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saythenametotheworld · 2 days ago

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You’re Not Sorry | l.jn (18+)

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

one | two | THREE | four | five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Later,” you replied.

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

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

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

“Hi,” you replied, smiling back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sophomore Year, 20XX

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re leaving already?”

You stopped, glancing back. “Jeno—”

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

You hesitated. “My friend is expecting me.”

“Is it urgent?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Gigi: good bcs i already ate lol

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never,” she said, grinning mischievously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re absolutely right,” said Giselle.

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

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

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

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

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

You giggled at Karina, who just rolled her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scowled. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it didn’t happen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Done. How about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We do talk about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And just like that, he walked out the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t,” you protested weakly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

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

He hummed. “Look at me then.”

“Don’t wanna.”

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

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

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

“Not you, obviously.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Comforting,” he said dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He let out a feral grunt. “Fuuuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t wanna see you again, Jeno.”

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

You didn’t look back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Impulsive?” you echoed, defensive.

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

You stayed silent, biting your lip.

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

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

You: Can we talk?

His reply came quicker than you expected.

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“No, you can’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked at him, surprised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And just like that, the cycle repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You all laughed. “Hear! Hear!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you headed?” he asked casually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Renjun seemed skeptical. “Willingly?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked, your smile faltering. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You froze as soon as you looked up.

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

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

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

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

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

Or so you thought.

“Boo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Renjun blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

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

“Finally,” you huffed, shaking your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better,” he replied, his voice low.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fin]

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truffle-chocolate · 1 year ago

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«Seizing moments, I fall into summer

I remember them by heart

With fragments of a meter of my film

You can measure my path»

«Хватая моменты, я падаю в лето

Помня их наизусть

Фрагментами метра моей киноленты

Можно измерить мой путь»

Happy birthday little guardians

The twins relax together on the ocean shore, remembering moments from childhood that are pleasant to both of them. It's funny that it was with these guys that I started drawing in this fandom and posting my drawings. What I'm grateful for

Words from a song polnalyubvi -Моменты

#traditional art #utmv #utmv sans #dream sans #nightmare sans #dreamtale #undertale au #birthday dreamtale #🪴#always look under the line because there is something interesting there #post design is still too difficult for me

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diseaseriddencube · 1 year ago

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i keep going back to read sparklecare thinking i'll like it but i just...don't

maybe i'm silly but it feels very flat? I still have no real grasp on the characters or attachment to them, I have vague ideas of a few of their main traits but not much else. I'm aware the entire comic is basically vent art, it does just read like a child's fanfic though..not to be insulting to fanfiction, but it does have a certain style or writing or joking to it. I don't dislike it either, but the writing and characters just don't vibe with me, i don't have the words to adequately explain why though

#sparklecare #i love the idea of it all #this hyper saturated hospital themed comic #it was instantly something that interested me #i'm always a sucker for blood and gore under sparkles and neon #perhaps it's just the art style #the thick lines just aren't doing it justice sometimes #panels end up looking so cluttered it's hard to tell what's even happening really #i DO love the website though. the entire web design fucks hard #the design changing with the chapters is absolutely incredible #(though they REALLY need a 'skip to page' button. the volumes have over a hundred pages to individually skip)#i like how much effort they put into trigger warning for things #though...with this art style..it almost feels unnecessarily silly sometimes #like TW vomit and it's a single brush stroke drop of green on the floor #blood is just the most cartoony red blobs i feel like it wouldn't even scare a toddler #even i have trouble looking at needle scenes but i can easily lower the content warning because of the art style #it gives me the vibe of those tumblr bios with dnis and a giant list of mental illnesses from people who don't understand what a squick is #half the faq page feels like 'you can't do this because it makes me uncomfy uwu'#....this entire post is criticism but i'll keep coming back to read it anyways 😍😍

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atrwriting · 4 months ago

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thinking about stripper reader with old man logan.

he came in every week or so — disheveled outfit and hair. he was older, sure — but not in the way most men his age looked. no — the years didn’t wear on him, but whatever he did that day did. his wrinkles weren’t deep, but the bags under his eyes were. his smile lines weren’t permanent, but the distant look in his eyes was. his bones didn’t crack because they were old, but because they were under too much stress. you couldn’t help it — you wanted to take that pain away.

no one wanted to approach him because he seemed to keep to himself — worried he was a creep or something. he was quiet, too — only speaking when he ordered a drink or another after that. he replied in nods or shakes of the head, and his eyes were always on the stage. despite the fact that he tipped well — no one bit.

you were feeling brave that day when you approached him. you kept it simple — black lace teddy, black lace thong, and black heels. hair bouncy with light makeup, hoping to keep the star of the show your eyes and smile. you knew he could see you out of the corner of his eye, and it threatened your confidence — but he had peaked your interest for too long for you to toss and stumble now.

“hey, handsome,” you spoke, keeping your tone light. “need another?”

he didn’t cock his head towards you, keeping his gaze in front. he swirled the small sip of whisky left in his glass, appearing to contemplate your question. after a moment, he responded, “dancers don’t take drink orders, darlin’.”

“no,” you spoke, laughing slightly. you bent at the hips, hoping to be lower than his eye line. “but they don’t when they give private dances — interested?”

“no, thanks.”

his voice was final — and even though you were disappointed, you didn’t want to push it. you stood then, taking a step back. “okay — i’ll send a waitress over.”

after working the room — it was your turn to take one of the side stages. you had your pick of which — but you decided to keep it as far away from the man as possible. if he didn’t want to be bothered, who were you to threaten a good tip? curiosity would not be killing the cat tonight — especially not when there was more money to be made.

a few men had gathered during your set, throwing a few dollar bills here and there as you swung your hips to the music. you had switched into a falls cowboys cheerleader outfit — white shorts, blue top, and white bra. cliche and overdone, but by the look of your tips — you couldn’t care less.

you also couldn’t care less when you noticed a set of eyes on you — the man’s.

he was unashamed in the way he stared at you. he had gotten another round at some point — but wasn’t drinking any of the contents. he simply gripped it tight as he stared at your swaying hips and perfect curves. you bit your lip at the thought of him regretting turning you away, the confidence intoxicating you. before the song ended, you made sure to lock eyes with him — letting you know that this was your stage and your body he was silently and secretly drooling over. when you sent a cheeky wink his way, he shook his head — downing his glass in an instant. you smiled when he stood from his seat, immediately darting for the “vip” lounge in the back that proudly boasted a sign that read “private dances.”

when you made your way into the back room, you were told that a certain someone had specially asked for you. once you made your way back there, you found what you were looking for.

“make me feel young again, darlin’.”

you couldn’t help but smile. he didn’t say it in an insecure way, but in a way that suggested that his day had been too long and too tiring.

“tell me how you like it?”

he didn’t say anything — he just watched you. his eyes never left yours as you flung off your top, exposing your breasts. he drank his entire glass of whisky before you had planted yourself on his thighs. the flesh of your ass was like to pillows, fit for his large hands. he didn’t touch you — but by how hard he gulped, you could tell he wanted to.

“touch me, sugar,” you whispered. “i won’t tell.”

there was hesitation in his eyes, but soon his gaze darkened. restraint had fallen through the cracks, gone and forgotten. was a shame he had already paid for the dance — you would’ve fucked him for free.

now it was time to make it worth his while.

the man beneath you ground your round hips down into his pelvis, groaning at the friction. he hadn’t seen peace or pleasure since never, but it held his facial feature hostage as his nostrils picked up on the scent of your arousal. warm, tangy juices that leaked through the lace in your panties onto the denim of his jeans.

“take off your pants,” you breathed. “i’ll remind you how young you are — if you promise you’ll show me the skill that only comes with age.”

he had you bent over the table, hands behind your back held by his belt. he planted two heavy feet next to each of your ankles, keeping your legs spread and ready for him. his thrusts were hard against the back of your hips as you only had the table’s edge to support you. you felt him repeatedly hit your cervix, wincing at the aggression.

“that’s not the spot, huh, darlin’?” he spat.

you stayed silent — wanting to see how he reacted.

“i can feel it — resistance,” he grunted. “that sweet pussy needs more, doesn’t she?”

his hard, calloused hands rotated your hips so the tip of his cock repeatedly began to smack into the softest and gummiest part of your inner walls. a moan ripped through you like no other — your back arching upwards as your hips desperately tried to meet his thrusts.

“there it is — that’s it, darlin’. come on, fight back.” you could feel the rough skin of his finger tips dig up and into your pelvis, welcoming the pressure. one of his hands moved underneath you — hauling your hips upwards — pressing against your lower abdomen. he could feel the outline of his cock fucking into your womb, stuffing you full. “i can feel how deep you’re takin’ it, darlin’ — pussy so greedy, ain’t she? — always wantin’ more? those young boys just ain’ it? i’ll take care of her, darlin’…”

you were a whining mess beneath him — practically incoherent. he could hear, smell, feel, taste everything you were feeling. he had every part of you in his hands — completely vulnerable to his mercy and touch. and when your hips started to shake — fighting with him and against him — all he could do was force them down as you took his cock. you whined and whine and whinedwhinedwhined for more until the glam makeup began to melt off your face.

the man watched as your body shook for him — him and only him. you found his wrist, holding onto it for dear life as you tired to anchor yourself. the pleasure was too much, causing your head to spin. you could feel the man rub the skin of your ass tenderly, coaxing you into your orgasm. your womb bloomed for him, wanting to suck him dry and never let him go. his groans were animalistic, filling the room as you begged him to fill your pussy. he smacked your ass once, twice, thrice before he pulled out and painted your back with his cum.

once he pulled out, you were still on your stomach on the table as you tried to catch your breath. he bent down to meet your eyes — a youthful glow on his face — before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“you just ruined men my own age for me.”

“get your things, doll — takin’ you away from here.”

———

depravity - L xoxo lmk what u think ;)

#wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #the wolverine #logan wolverine #wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan x reader #logan howlett

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januaryembrs · 8 months ago

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WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Description: Sunshine rookie gets a boyfriend, and Spencer can’t help but think he would be so much better for her. But that definitely isn’t the jealousy talking, right?

Length: 8k

Warnings: nothing really, jealousy? talks of sex? embarrassment? Mention briefly of vomit because of allergic reaction.

main masterlist.

author’s note: I want to write for these two until my fingers are two little stubs and even then I’ll learn with my toes. Can be read as a stand alone!

He thought he was going to be sick when he saw her that random Thursday, leaning against her desk, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. Or, more specifically, Spencer thought he was going to need to at least sit down when he saw the man standing next to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the little daisy earrings Penelope bought her for her birthday almost laughing at his gobsmacked expression.

He liked Agent Taylor Bingley. He respected the fresh faced desk jockey from the third floor that swanned around their bullpen, usually discussing warm up routines with Luke. He was quick on his feet, a pretty decent shot. Never missed a report, never tardy, even offered his parking spot up to Spencer on more than one occasion because he didn’t mind the long walk from the other lot. He flew under the radar, and when he was noticed, it was because he was a particularly kind soul.

Spencer didn’t think he’d ever seen him without those rosy cheeks that made him look almost always sunburnt, or that trademark boyish grin a handsome guy like him had down to a tea. So it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see him lingering around his sunshine girl.

Except she wasn’t his, not by a mile. They just spent almost every second of the work day together.

“Check it out, rookie has an admirer,” Tara said, the heels clicking against the floor as she passed the door, where Spencer seemed to have stopped, his eyes narrowing at the happy couple, “Can’t say I blame him. She’s a pretty girl, don’t you think, Spence?”

She didn’t realise she was rubbing salt in a superficial wound, but Spencer felt his jaw feather with annoyance. Because she was beyond a pretty girl, she was honey and all the months of Spring and a hot drink on a rainy day and finishing a good book and the dessert your mom let you have on your tenth birthday. Not that he could admit that. So he just nodded, right as Taylor leaned over to kiss the apple of her cheek.

She shied away, smiling to her lap and playing with her fingertips, not looking up from her little potted plant that sat next to her on her desk, and Spencer knew it was because she floundered when people gave her too much attention.

Like when Garcia had said her blouse and bun combo she’d worn the other day made her look like a sexy teaching assistant, she’d stammered something close to a thankyou and headed to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Or when Rossi had said the bangs she had cut herself two weeks ago looked cute, that his daughter had been desperate to try something similar, she’d spilled her coffee down her front not even two seconds later because she had been so occupied telling the man it was no big deal.

“Morning, Doctor Reid, Doctor Lewis,” Taylor said, his pearly white teeth gleaming with that West Coast, surfer boy tan that made Spencer want to huff. The man was insufferable. Well, correction, he was insufferably nice for someone Spencer was desperate to pick apart with faults the second he’d seen her preening over their sunshine rookie.

“Morning, Agent Bingley,” Tara said civilly, smiling back at the Agent that passed them to head to the elevators. She caught a glimpse of Spencer, and was quick to make herself scarce in the interest of needing to check in with Penelope, because she knew what that stormy look in his eye and the way his lips pressed into a thin line meant, profiler or not.

Spencer didn’t pay much attention to Lewis leaving his side, not that he was trying to be rude, his eyes were zeroed in on the way she fumbled around her desk, looking for imaginary mess to tidy, which included rearranging the pots of glitter pens and highlighters next to her monitor, only to put them back exactly how they were before.

“Agent Bingley, that’s new,” Came a voice over her shoulder, that made her jump in her seat, and her expression was skittish when she swivelled around, Spencer towering over her with calculating eyes. Luke rolled his chair around the divider to lean in on the conversation, having witnessed the whole thing in high definition since her desk was right next to his.

“Oh, Taylor?” She squeaked, and Spencer didn’t need to touch her face to know it had gone hot just by the way she simpered and fiddled with the hem of her knee length skirt, avoiding their gaze, “Yeah, he took me to the aquarium at the weekend and we got lunch. It’s not really serious or anything, I don’t think,”

She seemed unsure, her lips pursed together and a tiny crease between her brow he hated, and it was then Luke’s deep laugh rumbled next to them.

“Does he know that?” Luke asked, and she shot him a look, wide eyed and confused, as he cleared his throat, “I was thinking I could take you out again in that pretty red dress-”

She threw a wad of scrunched up notepaper at him, an embarrassed smile on her face as she shook her head at him, “You have spent way too much time with Penelope, you’re turning into gossiping school children,”

But she seemed happy, like the thought of the conversation she’d had with Agent Bingley made her all the more girlish herself as she giggled lightly, her gaze meeting Spencer’s empty expression. He wished he could hide his jealousy better, perhaps even seem happy for her. She deserved someone soft and saccharine and humane like Bingley, not a rough shell of what once was a brilliant man. He knew he should feel somewhat pleased for her, at least now he had empirical, hard evidence on why he couldn’t have her, but he couldn’t.

“All I’m saying, rookie, is if you got that man bringing you breakfast and sweet talking you after one date, you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky by the time he’s your boyfriend,” Luke chuckled, and Spencer thought he might just burst a vessel with how hard he clenched his jaw at that dreaded b word.

Alvez had no idea just how much he had twisted a knife in Spencer’s gut, which was plunged even further when he saw that sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him.

“Ignore him, he’s a busy body,” She chirped, her teeth peeking from her lips when she hid a grin, “You wanna get coffee later? Taylor brought me tea and I’m dying for the good stuff,”

Spencer nodded with a small smile, because her attitude was infectious, and selfishly thinking that Bingley couldn’t be that perfect for her because she only ever wanted tea when she felt sick, usually towards the start of the month that he guessed was in correlation with her menstrual cycle but would never ask. She wouldn’t want tea for another two weeks, and would likely take an extra shot in her cappuccino today because this was when she felt the most lethargic.

Swivelling back around in her chair to log onto her computer, she remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil.

For once, Spencer wished he’d been late to work.

–

Two months. They had been dating for two fucking months. As far as Spencer could tell, from Penelope’s need to chatter about their sunshine rookie and her hot, stud muffin of a boyfriend, things had only been official for about five weeks of that time, but it hadn’t stopped Spencer from wanting to swallow glass because that would likely be less inconvenient than seeing the two of them together.

Taylor usually brought her breakfast whenever they would get back from a case, which infuriated Spencer because he always bought her tea. She was a people pleaser, Spencer knew it before he had ever thought of her as anything other than the shiny newbie with too much joy and doe eyes he’d never seen before. But now, knowing her better than anyone else in the office did because she practically shadowed his footsteps, it was blaringly obvious to him that she had either never told him she didn’t like tea first thing in the morning, or he had never bothered to take notice.

Spencer felt an odd puddle of smugness and fury when on more than one occasion he saw her pouring it down the drain, cold after sitting there for hours until it was unbearable and she couldn’t force herself to drink anymore. It was obvious to him, so why wasn’t it obvious to her own boyfriend? Spencer thought bitterly. But then Agent Bingley did leave a sour taste in his mouth these days.

Speaking of which, Spencer felt that pang in his chest the way he always did when the happy couple walked into the office together. Her hand was usually in his, though she seemed to simper under the weight of the team's glances; knowing and teasing as he’d take her to her desk and whip out the to-go pastries that he’d bought them that morning.

“Morning, Spence,” She skipped past his desk, Taylor trailing behind her like a dog, though she seemed not to mind keeping him waiting a moment as she spoke to her friend, “How was Doctor Who?”

He smiled despite his grudge, because she always remembered what he said. He’d told her once that Thursdays were his evening to watch the show, and every time Friday morning rolled around, she’d bound up to lean over his computer and ask.

“It was okay, I’m excited to see what they do with a Female Doctor, even if I’ll miss Capaldi,” He replied earnestly, and her eyes filled with glee.

“Did they give her a new one of the doo-hickies they have?” She asked, his chest butterflying with an aching sort of affection because she seemed to remember everything he ever told her.

“Sonic Screwdriver?” She nodded her head, even though Spencer knew she didn’t quite understand the show entirely, “Yeah, I prefer Sarah Jane’s Sonic Lipstick however,”

“I wish I had one of those, I could reapply and save the world, how cool would that be?” She said, and they laughed together a little, before Taylor popped his head over Spencer’s computer with that dentist white beam and his excitable eyes, bluer than any sea rolling onto shore.

“Morning, Doctor Reid,” Agent Bingley said, and the smile withered from Spencer’s face, morphing into a civil nod, his expression unreadable.

“Morning, Agent,” He said, his eyes tracking back to his screen as he suddenly found Emily’s group email about staff room fridge etiquette invigorating.

Taylor must have taken it as a sign the Doctor Reid was busy and finally let him have a minutes peace, that is until she took a seat at her desk and he leaned next to her, handing her a warm bagel.

Spencer heard them chatting for about ten minutes, of which he was trying anything to tune them out, including roping Luke into their own conversation. It wasn’t until there was a lapse in the chatter that Spencer’s ears pricked up, and he heard her stand up from her desk, eyes wide as she spat a mouthful out into a tissue.

“Does this have coconut in it?” She asked somewhat fearfully, Spencer’s head whipping around to her little corner of the bullpen. Her little self help stickers dotted around her desktop stared back at him, her reminder to ‘drink water’ almost horribly ironic the second he’d heard her question.

His stomach dropped when Taylor frowned, “Yeah, it’s coconut and raspberry, is-is that not okay?”

Spencer was quick to stand up out of his own seat, rifling through his satchel to dig out his water bottle, making it to her desk in just two long paces and handing it to her without another word as she looked up at him worriedly.

“If you need to puke, it’ll probably be for the best so that you can get the traces out of your stomach. You can’t have the steroids before you hurl or it won’t work,” He soothed, and she nodded, sipping on his water with shaky hands, and Spencer was quick to catch the way her skin had a slight sheen to it that hadn’t been there before. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gage if she was well enough to make it to the bathroom on her own or if he would need to drive her to the ER. Either way her expression worried him.

“I-I thought it was white chocolate,” She peeped, looking extremely sorry for herself as she dumped the chewed up brownie in her bin, and Taylor almost appeared at her side, looking entirely lost as he stroked a hand down her hair.

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, seafoam hues trailing down her sweating face in terror.

“She’s allergic to coconut,” Spencer cut in, his tone a little harsher than needed, and her boyfriend’s expression wilted like a kicked puppy.

“Shit! You never mentioned, I’m so- I’m so sorry, honey,” Taylor went pale, and she didn’t look much better as she pushed past the two of them, heading for the bathroom, Spencer a single pace behind her.

“I got her, don’t worry,” He called over his shoulder to Agent Bingley standing there like a gaping fish, his hand running through his blonde sweep as he watched her all but running out of the office, Spencer’s long legs keeping up with her.

“Is your skin getting prickly yet?” Spencer asked. Swouldn't go into anaphylaxis, at least not as far as they knew, but the large hives that would appear on her chest and neck and the vomiting was not ideal. She kept a tray of steroids in her desk incase an accidental cross contamination happened (and because Spencer had forced her to have some on hand), but seeing her panicked eyes as she tasted the chalky fruit had made him fawn over her like she was marked for the plague.

“Neck is getting itchy,” She replied, tugging at her collar and pushing the door to the unisex bathrooms open, heading for the nearest stall, “You don’t have to stay for this bit, it’s not-”

He cut her off by sweeping her hair into a ponytail, as if to tell her to stop worrying about him, and he stroked a hand over her arm to let her know he was right there, because he knew she really hated anything gory and gross like that.

He hushed her when she’d try to apologise, hand her his bottle of water in between moments where her whole body seized.

And for a minute, she thought that Spencer might be the only person who she’d ever let see her like this. Not Luke, or Garcia and certainly not Taylor.

The thought of it kept her quiet for the rest of the morning.

They seemed to move past the whole debacle quickly. Luke said Taylor had taken her to a fancy restaurant uptown to apologise, making a huge point to avoid the coconut banoffee pudding like it was an explosive.

“You guys are so cute, you’re like Jane and he’s literally your Bingley. I swear your kids are going to be sweet enough I could drizzle them right next to ice cream,” Penelope said over the SUV console speaker, Spencer in the driving seat and her in the passenger, flicking through her files as they approached the victim’s house.

The rookie blanched, “Woah, woah, kids?” She protested, and even Spencer felt himself nearly swerve the minute the bubbly IT geek said it. She looked shaken, awkwardly chuckling and reaching to tuck hair behind her ear, “Slow down, Garcia, we’ve not even- you know what, I think we’re talking about the wrong thing here-“

“You’ve not even what?” Penelope burst out, her need for the lastest gossip overwhelming the reading of the room. She swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat to face out of the window, her knees touching the door with a thud, “Have you guys not had sex yet?”

“Penelope!” The woman screeched, her face hot and gobsmacked that she’d even said it out loud.

But it was telling enough, and Spencer’s face whirled over the console to her, guilt written on her features.

“I just assumed you guys had done it seeing as both of you are the hottest couple I know, I mean I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was a guy-“ Penelope tried to save herself in the only way she knew how, by digging herself a deeper hole.

Spencer’s hand shot out for the centre screen, “We’re losing you, Garcia, you’re breaking up, bye,” He pressed the end call button, and he didn’t need to look at the girl’s face to know she was the epitome of mortified.

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, the awkward silence of the car killing him as much as he knew it was her, but he thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut. It took him a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again, if not to ask her if she wanted to stop at a drive thru for breakfast, but she beat him to it.

“I was going to say we’ve not even said I love you yet,” She murmured, keeping her body entirely swivelled away from him, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller, as if she could just smush herself into the seat so he wouldn’t say anything. She cleared her throat, scratching her wrist nervously, “But I guess that’s also true too,”

“Why not?” Her eyes snapped onto Spencer when he braved those two words, and he sensed he’d overstepped some sort of boundary before he realised it sounded like he’d been speaking about the latter, “Why haven’t you said it?” He clarified.

She went quiet, her shoulders shrugging being the only sign that she’d heard him, gaze trailing back out her window.

“He’s not said it yet either, and I don’t think I want him to. Not yet at least,” Her voice was soft, heavy as if every single one of them was coming from her heart, “Love is such a big emotion I think if he did say it, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Like, if I’m going to say it back to someone, I want to be sure I feel it otherwise it’s like I’m betraying everyone else’s version of love, you know?”

He thought she might just be an angel bottled up and thrown into his life, and he sometimes wished he could take a look inside that head of hers because how she had protected her beautiful look on the world after seeing so much hurt staggered him. He had become cruel and cold and heavy where she looked at the lecherous shithole heading for disaster they called Earth and saw right to its soul, gave it a hug, told it she would care even when no one else would.

He tore his eyes from the road, and took in the outline of her face, mindlessly watching the pedestrians on their daily commute to grab lunch, a dog peeing against a lamp post, a motorcyclist bobbing and weaving in between the midday traffic, her doe eyes never missing a trick.

Forcing his gaping expression back on the road, because he might just swerve and hit the damn rider off his bike if he let himself get lost in his little dreamscape that consisted of nothing but her and her face and her thoughts and her words, he cleared his throat, not sure how to add to the poetic, rose tint she seemed to see the world in.

“That’s good, that you’re taking things at your own pace, atleast,” He said, not particularly profound but at least it was something, “You shouldn’t do things just because someone else wants you to, even if you think it would make them happy,”

“But I like making people happy,” She countered, her expression troubled as she looked over at him with a quirked brow, “I like making you happy especially,”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Spencer asked, his mouth drying up, his stomach flipping in cartwheels when she giggled to herself like for once she was the smart one snd he was the one who needed teaching.

“It took you three and a half weeks to crack a smile when we first started working together,” His jaw clenched, because he was the one who counted the statistics. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her. “Honestly, I thought you hated me. I thought a seasoned agent like yourself probably would get frustrated teaching the dumb newbie the ABC’s, even ones that admire him. But then I thought, instead of getting so butt hurt about it all, I could just give you a reason to smile and you’d see that I’m not just a useless rookie learning to roll over for treats.”

Spencer’s throat bobbed. He’d hate himself forever for being so cruel to her those first few weeks, the clipped tones when she’d add something in a particularly chirpy voice, the way he would forget his manners sometimes when she’d bring him a coffee, because his head had been so deep in survival mode that being nice didn’t matter. Being nice had got him nowhere in Mexico, in fact it had shown his soft underbelly and drawn a target on it.

“I never hated you,” His voice croaked out, weak and pathetic, and it's times like that he remembered ten years ago talking to her would have made him blush, pop a boner, and lose half his IQ all in one go. Coughing, his knuckles turned white at the wheel, and he avoids her gaze that feels like a pitfall trap, “It’s difficult to go back to how you used to be when you’ve got a thousand eyes on your back waiting for you to lower your guard,”

“I know, I know that now, I jus-” She floundered, worried she’d touched a nerve, but he stopped her by leaning over the console and putting a gentle hand on her kneecap.

“Relax, I know I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Spencer said, his timbre quiet but honest, “You were one of the few things I looked forward to, if I’m honest.”

“Really?” She said, agog, like she was waiting for him to turn around and say it had been a joke, “You didn’t think I’m too loud or, like, too much?”

“How can there be too much of you? If your body wasn’t in correct proportion, your organs wouldn't function-”

“Spencer,” She said, though he knew she was smiling even without having to look, “You know that’s not what I meant,”

“I know,” He replied, a smug little smile quirking on his own lips because he loved making her happy too, “No, I could never find you too much.”

She simpered under his words, his hand a stoked flame on her skin as she brought her fingers over the top of them to squeeze them together, before she changed the subject because she knew her cheeks might just explode if they heated anymore.

–

They were back from a long case, one that had made everyone tired and grumpy, especially because they needed to swing by the office for an hour of admin even Emily couldn’t wriggle them out of.

And ofcourse, as he always was when Spencer was feeling like he was already about to strangle someone out of annoyance, Agent Bingley was right there when they entered the lobby.

She hadn’t slept well on the jet, despite Spence loaning her his jumper to use as a pillow, and she was in desperate need of coffee, the kind that Spencer and Penelope forced her to try instead of the cold caramel thing she liked. She’d even go for one of Luke’s zero sugar, zero milk atrocities right now.

“Hey guys, how was the flight?” Taylor jumped in to ask, and everyone gave some sort of variation of a groan because that was exactly how it had felt. His attention turned to her, as she pulled up the rear with Spencer attached her her hip because she had been practically sleepwalking the entire way there, “Hi honey,”

“Taylor, hi,” She said, her eyes perking up when he held out a hot take away cup for her, “You really didn’t have to,”

“Nonsense, herbal tea is supposed to alleviate headaches and help get you to sleep,” He replied, his other hand behind his back quickly whipping out to produce a bunch of flowers in front of her face.

She barely had time to flash him a grin to hide the disappointment that it was nowhere near as caffeinated as she’d like, nor that she didn’t even liked herbal tea, before a bunch of lilies were thrust her way.

“Lillies,” She said, her hand covering her chest at the touching sentiment, “Taylor, you shouldn’t have,”

“I know they’re your favourites,” The blonde replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and effectively putting a wall between her and Spencer, whether he meant to or not. Her expression wavered, and Spencer's eyes went straight to her, waiting for her to correct him. Because they weren’t her favourites, not even in her top five. Hyacinths were. Or Foxglove. Or Delphiniums. Not Lillies.

She nodded wordlessly, and the three of them headed for the lift, where the rest of the team held the door for them, her expression tiptoeing between guilty and smiling, Taylor’s almost ecstatic to see her after her long few days away, and Spencer’s entirely pissed off that the sun kissed jerk couldn’t see every sign blaring in his face.

“I might have to cut off the stamen when Ace comes over,” She queried, her eyes roving over the beautiful white petals opening towards her like a book.

“Ace? Who’s Ace?” He said, and Spencer and JJ exchanged a glance, because the whole elevator was now privy to their conversation as David pressed the six button. Taylor reached forward to push the three for himself.

“The dog I foster sometimes, the one I told you about. He helps me when I need to talk through some things. He’s a very good listener,,” She said with a dopey smile on her face, her eyes casting over her boyfriends face with a willing expression, because she knew for a fact she’d told him at lengths about the bouncy Spaniel that adored her, “He comes over for playdates, but the pollen inside lilies are poisonous to dogs,”

Taylor scrunched his nose up, “Ugh, I hate dogs, they’re so slobbery and the always seem to smell awful,” He commented, her face dropping the slightest in a way that made Spencer’s hand curl into a fist, because how dare Agent Bingley take that away from her, “I thought you were a cat person?”

“I like them both equally, but Ace is sweet. He curls up on my legs after we’ve gone for a walk,” Taylor still didn’t seem convinced, and she felt stupid for even mentioning it, well aware that the rest of her team were listening in on her childish description of the old dog that wanted nothing but love.

“Why do you need a dog to talk anyway, babe? You have me,” Taylor said, in a way that was supposed to sound comforting but made Spencer want to shake him and tell him to listen to a damn word she was saying. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked at the lilies again, feeling entirely ungrateful for wishing they were something else, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. Taylor kissed her cheek and waltzed out of the lift with a quick goodbye to her team that was returned in murmurs. Turning to look at her, his body already in the anteroom of his own floor, he smiled sweetly at her, “I love you,”

JJ and Emily whipped their heads to her face, expecting to see some kind of puppy love blossom there, only to find wide-eyed panic, her smile slowly slipping. Rossi cleared his throat when she said nothing, the air turning stale as the team waited for her response, Taylor looking at her expectantly, and she wished the ground would open up then and there to swallow her whole, because that would probably be better than whatever this was.

Tara nudged her shoulder, waking her out of her daze, Luke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and it was then after a beat more of silence that Taylor opened his mouth again, “Babe, did you hear what I-”

She leaned forward to press the close door button, her doe hues in full flight mode, her fingers only picking up the pace when her boyfriend took a step closer towards the elevator, and Emily brought a hand over her mouth in muffled laughter when the doors slammed shut in front of him, their sunshine rookie entirely spooked and needing a quick exit.

The tiny metal box went silent, Spencer watching her face meld from alarm to horror, to sheer embarrassment.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you kid, that’s one way to do it,” Rossi said, patting her on the back and she shoved her face in her hands, the stems of the dove white flowers brushing against her cheek roughly.

“Please tell me that didn’t just happen,” She groaned through her fingers, JJ chuckling as the doors to their own floor opened up.

“Oh honey,” She said, rubbing the girl’s back gently, leading her out onto the BAU carpet that felt harsher against the souls of her shoes than it ever had before, “I think what you need is a coffee and a long talk with someone who isn’t a dog,”

Spencer watched her shuffle to slump down behind her desk, her expression still rattled and lost, JJ’s eyes flicking to him every now and then in a way that urged him to be the one to do just that because it was obvious by now who she talked the most openly to in the office.

But by the time he’d braved walking over to her desk, she’d already rushed through her report, excusing herself home for the day, and he knew her well enough to know she needed some breathing room before he could approach the subject, otherwise she would shut the doors on him too.

He hated the spiteful part of him that revelled in Taylor’s expression when that metal screen had slammed in his face.

—

It was three days later, and she had enforced a strict ban on talking about that day in the office. For once she didn’t look like she was going to break her resolve either, since every time someone tried to weasel information of her she would either pretend she hadn’t heard, or would excuse herself to make her fifth coffee of the day, or even had thrown her paperwork on the floor when Luke had pushed her for an answer just for an excuse to avoid the topic.

In fact, Spencer himself had been tempted to get her alone because he knew she would crack without much pressure from him, though the thought of using her trusting nature against her seemed wicked, and so he stopped himself and settled for curiosity.

It wasn’t until they were away on a case and they were shoved in a room together that the subject of Taylor was even brought up, and even then it was entirely out of his control.

“I’ll take the couch,” Spencer said, his eyes falling on the double bed in the centre of the room, striding over the other side of the room to throw his to go bag down on the two seater sofa that would wreck his back.

“Don’t be silly, we can just share the bed.” She said, as if it was the most obvious solution, which it was, “I sleep talk a little, but just give me a shove and I’ll shut up,”

Spencer paused, watching her fumbling around her bag for her toothbrush and paste.

“Won’t your boyfriend mind?” He asked, his palms clammy because he worried for a moment it was wrong to bring it up, and his chest butterflied when she froze, “Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, I just thought I wouldn’t like my girlfriend sharing a bed-”

“We broke up,” She said, taking pulling a large pink shirt out her bag and some strawberry printed shorts, her toiletries stuffed in her pockets, “So don’t worry about any of that stuff, we can share,”

And she waltzed into the bathroom without any more explanation, the lock clicking behind her and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.

They had broken up? Was it because of what happened in the elevator? Was it because of what Penelope said in the car? Was she the one to break up with him or the other way around?

Spencer felt like a gossip, even though his thoughts had gone no further than his cranium, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and in her pyjamas, he had already changed himself, tucked himself under the cover in the hope she understood they didn’t need to talk about it if she didn’t want to.

She smiled at him, tucking her dirty clothes back in her bag and heading for the bed, slipping under the plush duvet with a soft ooft.

“Light on or off?” She asked, her finger hovering over the switch beside their bed.

“On, if that’s okay?” He replied and she nodded wordlessly, shuffling down under the covers, pulling them up to just below her armpits. Crossing her arms over her stomach like she was snow white waiting to fall into a poison-laced slumber, her eyes bore holes into the ceiling, and his thoughts banged loudly against his temple. The silence of the room seemed to only turn their avoidance tactics into a cacophony they couldn’t ignore.

“If you’re going to ask questions, I might as well tell you before we get back to Quantico.” She said finally, her sigh heavy and exhausted and she looked over at him, his brunette locks splaying over the pillow in waves, his facial hair scratching against the sheet when he flicked his head over to her too.

Hazel had never been such a pretty colour than when they sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another, almost daring the other to speak first. He swallowed, his mouth watering at how she looked, tucked under the sheets, her body lax and soft under her pyjamas, her hands skimming over her stomach nervously.

“Is it because of the day in the elevator?” Spencer asked after a few minutes, breaths suddenly becoming difficult to regulate naturally unless he forced them to be, because he was so close to her under the covers, his entire body too long and gangly for just a twin bed, he could smell her shampoo and conditioning combo in full force. Her spearmint tongue rolled words around her mouth for a minute, dropping down to his Star Wars shirt he felt childish for wearing the minute he saw her looking at it.

“Kind of, he just wanted us to move so fast, it just kinda made me nervous, but I always thought being nervous was supposed to be good, you know?” She sighed, forgetting to breathe in between her splurge of words that had been building up inside her for weeks, “Like you said the feeling of excitement and fear are almost identical so I think I just convinced myself I was being dumb and I was being a bad person for not just giving him what he wanted. I’m supposed to love him, right? Being his girlfriend and all that,”

He had said that; because scientifically that was exactly correct. The hormones released during love and during fear were, down to their core, chemical matches, and it felt funny she’d remembered that fact considering she made him feel somewhere in between too. He knew she was special, just as much as he knew the idea of tainting her with his core terrified him. Like he secreted some kind of radiation that would ruin her if she got too close for too long. But he couldn’t help it. How do you stop yourself from wanting something good? It was just science. A Pavlovian response.

“You’re not supposed to do anything. There’s no timeline for how you feel, and you can’t force yourself to feel something any quicker or stronger than you do,” He said, shaking his head when she bit her lip, her fingertips playing with one another ontop of the sheets.

“He wanted to know when I was ready to have…” She swallowed, her cheeks heating, “Intimacy with him. A-and it’s not like I’ve not done it before, I had a boyfriend in high school, but I just felt like with him…”

“He didn’t pressure you, did he?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowing as he felt a surge of annoyance flash through his blood that she had wound herself up so much just because of some guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few months.

Her eyes widened, taking in the storm brewing in that beautiful woodland gaze of his, and she shook her head quickly, “No, no, nothing like that. This was all on me, it was all just me being dumb,”

“You’re not being dumb just because some guy didn’t like the answer you gave,” He corrected, exhaling deeply and letting his frown drop, because he knew she hated when he did that, “Why didn’t you want to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shrugged, looking back up at the dusty lamp shade hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs that smattered around the wooden panels.

“I don’t know, I just kind of never saw the two of us.. becoming intimate, you know?” She said, her tone sheepish like she was in confession and he was a priest sat on the other side of the divide. He looked over at her, scanning the outline of her face, but she seemed adamant on avoiding his gaze, because she knew she would spill everything the minute she looked at him. With Spencer, there were no secrets, and that was entirely the problem.

Spencer’s lips pursed, thinking of exactly the right thing to say to such a delicate soul when she was laying herself hypothetically bare for him.

“You don’t have to be intimate in a relationship if you don’t want to. No one who loves you should ever make you feel like there’s an expectation or like you owe them that,” Spencer explained softly, edging his pinky finger out the tiniest bit to catch the back of her hand that now lay flat on the bed, her head turning up to meet his round forest hues that looked down at her with more softness than he’d felt in a long time.

He wished he could stay here with her forever. In the quiet of this room, they were just the two of them, not Doctor Reid and the Special Agent he had a huge hopeless crush on that was years his junior and thought she could fix everything wrong with the world.

“I know,” She sighs, and his heart caught in his throat when her pinky raises up to meet his own, the tips of their fingers brushing against one another like they were meeting each other for a slow dance. He had touched her many times before, but there was something illicit about this time. Like their skin had become oppositely charged and was pulling the other one in with an electric crackle, “He never pressured me but I felt like I could have tried harder to want it.”

“If you don’t want it, you don’t ever have to have it. A lot of people reach your age when your frontal cortex is developed and realise they might be asexual, it’s not a bad thing-” He tried reassuring her, but she was quick to shake her head again, bashfully ripping her eyes away from him to look at their caressing fingertips.

“No, no. It’s not that I never want to be intimate ever, I just never really felt comfortable around him enough to let myself want it. Like I couldn’t just be me with him, I was just being what he wanted me to be. Like he never really knew the real me,” She explained, and she rolled over onto her side to face him, her other finger coming up to absentmindedly trace over the prominent vein that ran up his arm, stopping just below where his old needle scars were at the crook of his elbow. If she saw them, she didn’t say a word, but Spencer felt like she was trailing a flame over his skin. He thought if she took his manhood in her hand she’d probably get the exact same response from him, because with every invisible swirl and line she drew over his skin, he felt a heat ripping through his loins. “Does that make sense? Like I didn’t think he would like the ikky parts of me so I ended up putting on a charade,”

“Y-yeah,” He replied, and his stammer made her look up, eyes wide and innocent as she watched him all but falling apart under a single fingertip. God he was pathetic. Mid thirties and nearly finishing in his boxers over a pretty girl touching his arm. Only it wasn’t just a pretty girl. It was her. His sunshine girl. “But I don’t think you have any ikky parts, to be honest,”

Her eyes deepened into pools of awe, and he watched her trail a glance down his nose to his mouth vulnerably.

“Spencer, you’re being too kind,” She whispered, and he swore his chest lurched.

He cleared his throat, and moved to roll over towards her too, hoping to disperse some of the energy that was clogging between them, only for it to become dialled to a hundred, trapping them in a tiny box where they were looking at one another, laying on the bed they were being forced to share and almost holding hands, because committing to full thing was scary like they were ten years old in a playground.

“Of course that makes sense. It’s much healthier to form intimate relationships with people we trust and feel safe with than rushing into things,” Spencer tried to breeze past the tension, but her breath was fanning over his face, almost tripping him over his words, because she was still looking at him like he knew all the answers. Because he usually did. Except for this time. This time, he felt like he was walking blind towards his point, “Not that one night stands should be shamed or anything, but it’s much better to engage in sexual intercourse with someone when it feels right,”

She breathed out deeply, licking her lips, and her finger movements stopped.

“So it’s just a when you know, you know, kind of thing?” She asked, her brows pulling together in a saddened frown, “I’m not, like, broken or anything?”

He sat up on his elbow, grabbing her wrist tight enough she would listen the minute he said it to her, because he never wanted to hear her say that again, “There is nothing wrong with you, you hear me?” She looked up at him with glassy eyes, wide and shocked to see him so desperately insistent over her, “You feeling secure is more important than any guy out there, no matter how nice they are, got it?”

She nodded after a beat, because she thought her brain might have stopped working with the way he was leaned over her, looking down at her with a glimmer of the harshness he’d been drowning in when she first met him. These days he seemed to have mellowed out the tiniest bit, except the straightforward tone he held with everyone else who wasn’t her, or the general heavy handedness he didn’t seem to realise he was capable of. Like in the way his warm, rough hands gripped the skin of her wrist, his expression somewhat frustrated though not with her as he looked down at where she was half beneath him.

“Spence?” She whispered into the electricity between them, her eyes trailing over his nose again and ghosting over his half attempt at facial hair. They were just whisps, but they suited him embarrassingly well. He didn’t reply, just stared at her to wait for her response, “I feel safe with you, you know that?”

He swore his heart was thumping out of his chest. She looked divine under his hand, sweet like a pudding begging him to taste, and he couldn’t help it when his thumb trailed up the side of her jaw, brushing just under her bottom lip, and she seemed to press herself further into his touch, a cat being scratched behind velvet ears.

“You’d tell me if you ever wanted me to stop, wouldn’t you?” He murmured, gooseflesh crawling up his arm when she nodded, her eyes boring holes into his soul when she looked up at him like that.

“Always,” She answered honestly, blinking at him once, twice, before she took a deep breath for courage, “But what if I never wanted you to stop?”

Spencer nearly moaned when he crashed their lips together, and he heard her squeak in delight beneath him, his large hand cupping her jaw, weaving into her hair, tugging her closer. She felt like her was consuming her whole, and she had no qualms about it, not when she reached a hand up to his shoulder and tugged him even more on top of her, the weight of him on her chest comforting and achingly right.

He pulled away to breathe for a moment, but she was chasing his lips, her touch maddening and he swore his brain switched off when she ran a hand up his spine, slipping under his shirt and tracing over every one of his vertebrae making him shiver. Her lips were stronger than any craving he had ever felt, the instant dopamine rush embarrassing for a man of his age, so hardened by the world reduced to putty, ready to beg for more because now he’d had a taste of her ambrosia, he didn’t think he could ever think straight again. A man sent crazy by forbidden wine.

He pushed her hair away from her face, using his long fingers to wrap around the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer to him, his other arm skirting down to her clothed waist and pressing their bodies together. She whined in his mouth, and Spencer thought he could finally die happy.

He pulled away to let her catch a gasp, her fingers carding through his long, brown curls, scratching against his scalp in a way that drew a low growl from his throat. He needed more, needed her, more than the air he gulped down ravenously and he found himself kissing at her soft neck, her head tipped back in bliss as he kissed every inch he could.

“The reason I didn’t want it with Taylor,” She choked between manic breaths, her hands holding onto him so tight he knew she didn’t have any intention of asking him to stop, “Was because it didn’t feel like this,”

Spencer wove their fingers together, pushing her hand above her head as the other came up to tilt her face towards him, looking into her bleary eyes for a second, their noses ghosting past one another, her mint breath delicious on his lips.

“It never feels like this, baby,” He whispered, their foreheads pressing together before he gave into her again and pressed his lips against hers so hard she whimpered into his mouth.

And she believed him.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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sohnric · 3 months ago

Text

'cause all the cool kids, they seem to fit in. /

starting univeristy with you has jake tumbling into a big, irrational fear of losing you to all the new cool kids in your orbit. little does he know, you'd always be rather stuck with him instead.

pairing: jake sim x fem! reader

genre: best friends to ?, fluff, slice of life. domestic and so cutesy i wanna cry. jake is an insecure wet puppy in this i wanna hold him☹️ nerdy shy introverted jakey!!!!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: building legos with jake is my deepest life dream 💔 thank you as always for beta reading my belovedest!!! @csenke

Eyes drifting from the small words and lined artwork in the manual to the crown of your head as you look down on the little building materializing right in your hands and then straight towards the wall behind you, Jake is almost too painfully aware of the time on the clock as you sit on top of his bed, enveloped by his red hoodie rather than the clothes he helped you pick out when you two went shopping together earlier in the day, chewing on the inside of his cheek and wondering when the time will come and you will leave his room to go do something better, something more exciting.

He curses himself in his head for being the way he is. For not being cool enough, for not being social enough to hold big parties he could invite you to, much like Lee Heeseung did, fitting snugly into your tonight’s schedule. For not being bold enough to flirt with you like all the new guys you’ve been meeting since the two of you got into university. For not telling everyone he is interested in you when they first asked him the question upon meeting the two of you in your shared classes.

For not being loud and casual and funny like Jay is. For being nerdy and boring and maybe even a little shy.

He curses himself out in his head for everything that makes him him, for everything he cannot change. It’s only been a few weeks since you two started university, and he already grew fifteen times more insecure than he was before– all because the painful realization that you won’t be around him, by his side forever, finally settled in after orientation– when he noticed the way you carry yourself and how it catches the eyes of many, and not just his.

It’s too late now to do anything, though. He will have to watch you slip from between his fingertips, he’s fully aware. Because you were invited to Lee Heeseung’s party– an upperclassman’s party– and an opportunity like this doesn’t get declined.

The more he’s hypnotizing the clock on the wall, though, the more he’s concerned about the fact that you’re still residing in his dorm room instead of Lee Heeseung’s frat. And although he hates to see you leave, he doesn’t have it in him to stop his curiosity as he asks.

“Aren’t you supposed to be… like… on your way to Heeseung’s now?” he asks, voice coated with shyness mixed with curiosity, hating every single word that came out of his mouth.

“Hm?” you hum, looking up at him from under your eyelashes, a gaze that makes the boy immediately turn his head away and face his hands instead. “Oh, I dunno…” you trail off, not really giving him much of an explanation.

Jake furrows his eyebrows, confused. “Why?”

Out of the periphery of his vision, he sees you shrug. “I don’t really feel like going.”

This sentence alone makes the boy’s mood immediately a thousand times better. He can’t show it on his face, though– that would surely raise some red flags for you. Knowing he can’t face you because you can read him too well, he avoids all possible eye contact as he focuses on the Lego scattered all across his blanket.

“Suddenly?” he hums. “You bought a whole new outfit for it, though..?” A whole new outfit that you looked great in, Jake mentally grunts. A whole new outfit to show off in in front of Lee Heeseung, a whole new outfit that hugs your figure just right and makes Jake’s heartbeat quicken, his palms sweating as you twirled in the clothes outside of the changing room back at the store, asking him how you look.

“I can wear those clothes anywhere,” you snicker. “I dunno, Jake, I think I changed my mind about the party…”

Don’t show any emotion. Don’t look happy about it, Jake has to remind himself. Stay cool, calm and collected.

“Why?” He has a lot of questions.

“Well, first of all, I don’t really know these people,” you say, laughing to yourself. Jake could argue with the fact that Park Sunghoon, his new roommate for the year that you met a load of times before since you hang out with Jake in his room often, would be there– he doesn’t, though. He listens to you as you continue. “I doubt I’d have fun there if I don’t know anyone.”

“I think meeting new people is kinda the point of a party, though, isn’t it?” he notes, earning a soft chuckle out of you.

“I guess… But I dunno, I think the moment I got to your room and we started building these, I was completely sold on just staying over and hanging out with you instead,” you mumble, tone of voice soft and tender, making Jake’s stomach buzz with a thousand fireflies, lighting up his intestines and making him warm all over.

He prays it doesn’t mirror on his cheeks. There’s nothing to blush about in such a simple statement, after all.

“Oh,” is the only thing that leaves his mouth, taking the new information in.

You chose to build Lego with him over going to one of the biggest frat parties of the year? You chose to hang out with him over Lee Heeseung? All of it is making Jake’s fingertips buzz with excitement, a satisfied smile begging to jump onto his cheeks– he keeps suppressing it, though. He’ll keep the celebrations to himself, after you leave.

“Besides,” you clear your throat, “I think it was rude of them to not… not invite you as well, y’know,” you note, shrugging, all nonchalant.

Jake’s ears start ringing. He didn’t think you’d mention it– he didn’t even think you paid it much mind.

He wasn’t bitter about not being invited to all the big, cool parties. He made a few new friends already, and they aren’t going either– it’s not like Lee Heeseung and his group are the only acquaintances he could hang out with. It stinged a little when he realized your new friend group was so much different to the one he was building for himself– merely because the fear of watching you detach yourself from him after seeing just how uncool he really is compared to all the fun, outgoing people you surround yourself with nowadays was too much for him to handle.

“Well, they are your friends, not mine,” he shrugs. “And I’m not exactly the party type,” he justifies.

“Well, no,” you admit, “but the invitation would’ve been nice anyway. You’re my best friend, of course I would wanna bring you along.”

Jake chuckles at your words. He’s your best friend– and something about that makes him both overjoyed and a little defeated at the same time.

“Y/N, look, I won’t be mad if you still wanna go. You don’t have to stay with me–”

“But I want to,” you cut him off, finally forcing the boy to meet your eyes. You smile at him all soft and gentle, making Jake melt away and bashfully grin at your hurried argument. “I’m having much more fun building these with you than getting drunk with Lee Heeseung in a frat somewhere, trust me.”

As if to further prove your point, you nestle a little in your place and stretch your legs out as you plop your back against the perpendicular wall, landing your limbs right into Jake’s lap. The boy swallows at the sudden act of affection from you, instinctively resting his forearms against your shins as he continues to work on the Lego set you two picked out together in the mall.

If there’s one thing Jake enjoys doing the most, it’s Lego. His impressive collection stayed back home, though, so you insisted that he has to get at least one set to build to display in his dorm room as well. Convincing him was hard only until you told him you will get one as well and build it with him eventually– not really knowing just yet that the time would come the same day, later in the evening.

The boy lets himself relax once the idea of you leaving any minute and forgetting all about him and the bond you two have is disapproved of by your own words. Eyes involuntarily landing on your face every few seconds and the relaxing, yet heart-palpitation inducing humming of a song unfamiliar to him are preventing him from fully focusing on the Lego set in his hands, making him fall behind. The realization of the fact has you furrowing your eyebrows at him once you finish building up the blocks in your own hands, shifting in your position so now you’re sitting back next to him, legs still hovering over his– making you basically sit in his lap– as you speak up close to his face, having the boy’s ears ring and palms sweat, clammy with the bricks in between his fingertips.

“What’s taking you so long? I swear I witnessed you building that huge Star Wars ship faster than this little thing,” you giggle, taking a block from the little hoard of them on the blanket in front of you two into your hands and offering it to the boy.

“Dunno,” he mumbles, swallowing hard as you help him build up the little structure, hands tangling with his, skin brushing against skin, the scent of your shampoo hitting him in the nose.

It only takes you two a couple more minutes to finish building the little structure– since the Lego sets you bought were similar, which meant you already knew what you were doing– and as the Lego flowers sit right at Jake’s feet, he lets himself admire them for a bit.

“You should put them on your table there,” you prompt, pointing towards the desk under the window that’s sitting right opposite of Jake’s bed. “I think it would look super cute.”

Jake nods. He thinks he’d agree with anything that ever comes out of your mouth.

“Put this one next to it,” you snicker as you drag your own Lego set into his point of vision, the sakura flowers making Jake’s poor heart jump, twisting his head to face you.

“Huh?” he voices out. “But that’s yours.”

You shrug. “I bought it for you, ‘cause you like Legos so much,” you hum. “Besides, you can always think of me when you see it on your desk,” you nod.

That’s a silly idea. Jake always thinks of you.

“But you bought it with your own money, you can’t just–”

“Watch me,” you laugh as you scramble to your feet, taking both of the Lego plants and putting them into the corner of the desk, to the opposite end than his lamp is situated, admiring your interior design work.

Jake quickly follows you with a pout on his face. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the sentiment, no– he just really dislikes the idea of you spending money on him.

“Y/N, you spent money on that! I thought you were getting it so we could match and–”

You spin towards him, making the boy’s breathing hitch in his throat. It seems he didn’t successfully estimate the proximity of his body to yours as he was trying to take the Lego off the table, earning himself only a few centimeters between his and your face. Looking at you with wide eyes and mouth hanging agape– unknowingly making himself seem like an eager, adorable puppy– he can’t help it but let his eyes roam all over your features.

“You can buy me a real plant and I’ll keep that one on my desk, how about that?” you ask him sweetly, raising your brows at him and sending him that cute, cunning smile.

Something about you right in this moment is making Jake’s blood boil hotter, your composure teasing, daring. The second your arms sneak around his neck, he’s a goner– he can’t think of anything else besides your sheer existence and how that alone makes him feel. What’s worse, he can’t put his attention anywhere but to your soft, plump lips.

He thinks he’s going crazy. This is insane. If you like playing with him, then he’s happy enough to be your toy– anything but letting you go is good in his eyes.

He doesn’t allow himself to move. Having you like this is already enough for him– it’s far more intimate than anything he’s experienced with you, with anyone ever before– and it’s just a simple hug, goddamn it. You’re breathing the same air as you let your forehead rest against Jake’s, the action alone making him feel weak in his knees, a fit of fireworks erupting in his stomach harder than the New Year’s celebrations.

He’s trying hard not to think about kissing you right now. Not because he doesn’t want to– no, he just believes you don’t want to.

Because this is just what friends do on Friday evenings, right?

Don’t get your hopes up, Jake thinks. You just finished building Lego together– how much of a loser can you really be?

Not enough to stop himself from imagining, it seems.

Because your face moving towards his with unstoppable force can only ever be a dream– one he’s had far too many nights, far too often than he’d like to admit to himself.

It feels so real, though? He almost lets himself believe it. He almost lets himself indulge in the fantasy– perhaps even make it a reality– before the bubble bursts itself and all his hopes and dreams with the sound of the door opening, making you jump away from him.

You should’ve locked the door, Jake curses at himself. Actually, no– that would be weird.

Either way, he can’t help but roll his eyes when he hears the voice of Park Sunghoon break the silence.

“Yo, Y/N, are you coming or not? Heeseung texted me to ask about you. I can give you a lift, if you wanna, but I’m leaving, like, right now, so– did I interrupt something?” the taller boy finally realizes after you send him an annoyed look, the question so deadpan it has Jake cringing at the words.

“Yeah, no,” you clear your throat, dropping your arms and putting some space between you and Jake. “Uhm– I… I’m not going tonight. Thanks, though.”

“So you’re staying behind with that nerd?” Sunghoon asks, a teasing glint in his grin. Jake doesn’t know if he should be taking it personally.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Hanging with the nerd tonight,” you joke, looking behind your shoulder. The gaze you send Jake is softer, more tender than he imagined– something about it making heat crawl to all crevices of his body and making him immensely embarrassed, as he knows there is a blush very apparent and unhidable on his cheeks right now.

Sunghoon nods. After taking one last look between the two of you, the male shrugs. “Alright, then. Have fun!” he says as he turns to leave. Jake thinks the torture is finally over and he gets to be alone with you again, before his roommate spins on his heel and sends you two another shit-eating grin. “Can at least one of you text me if I should find a place to sleep tonight, though? I wouldn’t wanna interrupt again in case you end up–”

“Get out!” you yelp, chasing after the man, threatening him with your fists and kicks.

Jake feels like burying himself alive under the cold ground and disappearing. Curse Park Sunghoon, Lee Heeseung and all the cool kids in school– because it seems that one way or another, they always have a way of keeping you from him.

#bjnet #enhypen #jake #sim jake #jake x reader #jake fluff #jake sim scenarios #jake sim x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun fluff

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servicpop · 4 months ago

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obsessive ( nsfw ) obsessive toji f. x oblivious bttm male reader

Toji hated how oblivious you were.

You could run your pretty little mouth to a cafe worker and overlook the yearning in their eyes, or you would turn a blind eye to when your co-worker at your part-time job asks so blatantly for your number, but you just disregard it as just so you could be called in when they call sick.

He doesn't say anything about it, not when you two are out getting drinks — since it was your payday — and he sees a girl approach you, batting her eyelashes blotted black with mascara and throwing meaningless compliments at you. He only glares, his hand slipped around your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there as if he was voicing his complaints through actions.

But of course you brush him off, saying something along the lines of 'she probably wants to be friends,' which undoubtedly ticks him off.

A smile, however, graces his scarred lips when he sees the girl's eyes flicker to the hand around your sides and backs off ever so slightly and he swears he would never but he most definitely flipped her off while your attention was on her.

When your drinks were finally done, the worker handed it to you, and god did Toji almost throw a straight punch when he saw your fingers brush together. Why was everyone gunning for you? When he first started going out with you, he simply assumed that no one would dare come close because of his looks, but now, people didn't even look in his direction, only yours.

"You're like a fucking angel," He grunted under his breath, placing the paper straw that would eventually disintegrate from him chewing on it inbetween his lips to take a sip. You turn your head to ask him what he said, not being able to hear it through the rumble of his voice, but he replies with a blunt, "nothing."

Throughout your whole 'date,' Toji was just getting increasingly pissed off about the whole ordeal. Guys and girls were approaching you, trying to start up a conversation, and as the sweet little oblivious boy you were, you'd engage, which always ended in Toji having to scare them away with a glare and a hand wrapped around you.

The ride home was fairly quiet; Toji wasn't a man of many words but he couldn't shake off the jealousy that he desperately wanted to bury. His fingers brushed against his scarred lips, a habit he's adopted over the years, and his leg bounced repetitively before the words just spilt out from his mouth like gates opening. "Does it not bother you?" he speaks in a rather hushed tone, almost like he's trying to restrain the jealousy in his voice.

"Bother me how?" You question, getting out from your seat once you've reached your home. Toji is left trailing after you like a stray dog while the key chains on your keys clink together as you unlock your front door.

"When people are always coming up to you," Toji grumbles, extending an arm above your head to hold the door open for you. "They're interested in you, can't you see that?" His hands find their way to rest on your waist and he pulls your back to his chest. "I'm right here and you still wanna shoot your shot with someone else?" Toji has forgotten all about keeping his obsession over you at bay, all he wants to do is knock some sense into you.

Before you can even refute his words, Toji already has his hands crawling underneath your shirt. His large, thick fingers finding your chest to pinch at your nipples, twisting them lightly. One hand leaves your chest while the other is splayed across it, holding you back as he pulls at your waistband, stretching the elastic out to look down at you.

"Already hard and I've barely touched you," He tsked, and contradictory to his words, his hand wanders down to touch you more. He pulls at your pants, slipping them down until they pool at your ankles before he runs a finger along the bulge at your boxers.

You instinctively whine and grasp his forearms in a futile attempt to stop his hands but you just end up twitching in his hold. "What? Don't want it? Thought you loved attention," Toji slips his hand lower, trailing down so he could press the pad of his fingers to your hole through the fabric. There's barely any friction or penetration to get you going so your hips jerk back, pushing against Toji which elicts a low groan from the man.

"Yeah, yeah you do, you fucking love it," His laugh comes out harsh and he's folding himself ontop of you, getting you to bend over more. Both his thumbs link underneath your waistband and pulls it down with a small whistle. Toji's arm then constricts around your waist where your body bent, holding you up so you didn't fall or escape. For a second he holds you still and all you can hear is the clink of his belt coming off and the small pops of his buttons.

"Stay still for me yeah?" He growls in your ear, tugging at his own clothing to get them off. He snakes his hand to your front, curving underneath to slip a finger inside. His arm is brushing so lightly against your now erect cock, but he refuses to touch it.

You could feel every knuckle pushing into you, squeezing against his fingers as you panted. His other hand finally makes it to your dick, using his fingertips to pull your cock against your stomach, tracing his nails along the underside. This ripped out a moan from your throat, your arms thrashing around from the feeling but Toji's arms are so tangle with yours its hard to move.

"Oh? So that's where you're sensitive, huh?" He's blatantly mocking you, taking his anger out on you. You whine again when Toji starts to spread the fingers nestled inside your walls, scissoring you to stretch you out. "Open up for me baby, I know you ain't shy," he keeps his fingers apart, taking his own dick and lining it up to your gaping hole.

He pushed in, and once you fit his tip through, he pulls his fingers back out, plugging you with his thick dick.

Toji hums contently, grabbing both your arms and pulling them back to his sides. You're already arching and he's got a great view of your back. "I feel like you're gonna split in half, God," its a shaky laugh because of how much you're squeezing him, wringing him out of whatever he has to offer. He pulls his hips away from you before he slams back in, the hands on your wrists pulling you against him with each thrust.

You can't do anything with your hands pulled behind your back, Toji's just using your body, handling you like you were a puppet and your arms were the strings.

You can hear Toji groan in frustration but before you could question it, Toji moves his hands, gripping your thigh and pulling it up. His other hand holds your side, as he pistons his hips into you in this new position. "That's deeper, yeah?" He groans into your ear, and you wobble from being forced to stand on one leg but Toji just tightens his grip around your waist.

Your whole body shudders when Toji finally reaches your prostate, hitting right up against it. A grin slowly emerges onto Toji's face when he sees your eyes go blank, and he knows he's found your sweet spot. "There we go, shit I was getting mad 'cause you weren't reacting that much." Toji's fingers dig deeper into the plush flesh of your thigh, and he laughs breathlessly at the obscene sound of his balls hitting against your skin.

"You take it like a champ y'know," he whispers through his teeth, "I'm so mean to you but you don't complain, huh?"

You're too far gone to even hear his words, your warm, wet walls clenching around him as you let out a small cry before coming as hard as you could, the sticky liquid falling straight onto your wooden floors. Toji's condescending laugh rings through your ears as the hand on your waist moves to your tummy, pressing down so he could feel himself rearrange your guts.

And apparently, that gets him off. Alot.

With one more thrust, Toji groans loudly, emptying for all he's worth into you. He pulls out almost immediately so he could see the white globs drip down your inner thighs. He lets go of your thigh that he was previously holding in the air and squishes them together, slotting his cock back between your sticky thighs to ride out his high.

He's peppering light kisses and small bites on your shoulder before speaking in a husky voice, "You gonna let people hit you up?" He asks, and you can barely reply from the physical exhaustion, "...No."

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #bottom male reader #male reader #sub male reader #x bottom male reader #toji x male reader #toji fushiguro x male reader #jjk x male reader #amab reader

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sirxlla · 24 days ago

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Whispering dirty Christmas lines in the Batboys ears 🎄

----------------------------------------------------

Dick: "Are you a candy cane? Because I’d like to lick you up and down." You said to him through comms.

"Y/N, you know everyone can hear you on comms." Dick stiffled a laugh.

"Oh, shit! Are you serious?" Embarressment and worry filling your voice.

"Nah, I'm just messing with ya. I switched our comms to private." Dick said with major confidence.

"Yeah, you must've not done it right Dumbass cause we can hear you loud and clear." Jason teases as he states through comms. Making your heart fall into your stomach.

Dick, in his embarressment stays silent the rest of patrol, you do as well. He thinks back to the comment in his heart swells proud of you for being confident enough to try to flirt with him considering usually you are fairly quiet and turned into a stuttering mess whenever he would flirt with you.

Jason: He was sitting on the couch reading a book just chilling. Something sweet about Jason is how the both of you needed space from each other on occasion but always came back to bother each other to tell each other about something that the other thought was interesting or random other things. You snuck up behind him even though he a thousand percent knew you were there before you got even close enough to whisper in his ear.

"Is your name Father Christmas? Because you look like a daddy to me." Giggling a bit as you spoke, your lips brushing against his earlobe.

"Babygirl, I'll be whoever you want as long as it makes you happy." He said with a charming smile; Something so lovely about Jason was how he could say just about anything and make it sound like smooth talking. He pulled you over the couch after setting down his book on the coffe table, sliding you into his lap facing him.

Bruce: You were in the cave filling in for Barbara as Oracle because she was feeling extremely sick this evening and Bruce wanted to give you a spin. Of course you have been flirting with him all evening.

"I need help spelling Elf. I have an E and an L. Can you give me an F?" You spouted the random Christmas pickup lines you read online cause this is exactly what Bruce intended the Batcomputer to be used for.

"I'm sorry, what?" He stopped in the middle of what he was doing on patrol.

"Seriously you just now noticed? I've been flirting with you all evening." There was a humor to your voice as you asked him in disbelief.

"Are you serious?" He asked with complete confusion and disbelief.

"Yes, I'm serious." An infectious laughs escaping your lips.

"Well at least youre having fun, Darling." He stated with a smile begging to reach his lips.

Tim: Everyone was sitting down for dinner as you passed him you whispered in his ear.

"Are you the Polar Express? Because I’d like to ride you." That's all it took for him to choke on his drink his face turning bright red. Of course you just returned your seat and acted like nothing had happened.

"What'd she say?" Dick teased Tim, noticing his younger brothers bright red face.

"I don't know but he is sure definitely gonna give Rudolph a run for his money." Jason teased as well.

"My face is not red, I don't know what you guys are talking about." Tim suttered as he lied through his teeth glancing at you. Obviously you had no choice but to look at him but you famed and innocent smile like you didn't just say that until his ear.

Damian: Considering how grumpy of a man he is you kind of knew what to expect when what you flirted with him in any sort of cringey cliche sort of way but that didn't stop you from trying and the joy you felt from his reaction so you walked into the training room.

"Do you believe in kissing someone under the mistletoe? Because mistletoe is what I named my sheets." You asked Damian with a shit eating grin.

"That's the best you could come up with?" He says with a bit of an annoyed tone as he approches you. There's a glint in your eye as you try to run off before you tackles you, a smile graces his thin lips, his smile sharp and cheeky.

"Oh no, I didn't say you could leave." he says in a rather happy tone, a tone he didn't let a lot of people see. He was very mushy on occasion and he could be extremely sweet.

Masterlist

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #batboys x reader #batboys #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #tim drake x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #batboy preferences

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balteredsworld · 7 months ago

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wilson’s hypothesis. gregory house

🥼🩺 | according to wilson, house likes you and you like him. so, house confronts you with wilson’s hyposthesis.

masterlist: greg house n all

warnings/tags! fluff of sorts, angst if you squint, talks of self-sabotage, idiots in love, sherlocked reference!!! (just watched 8x18—house self-sabotages so bad my lord)

author's note: lowkey hate this but it's idk what're we thinking fellow ducklings???

"wilson thinks i like you," house airs.

you throw him a strange glance.

"crazy, right?"

"yeah? and you think i like cameron," you mimic, matching his dismissive detachment to comedic effect.

only, house is serious.

“no, wilson thinks i like you.” house ignores your joke, repeating wilson’s solemn hypothesis.

when you pause to look at his face, your mind goes off into complete nonsense like's just tipped you over and left you with internal bleeding in your brain, upon the realization that he does, in fact, mean those words he's telling you.

"what makes him say that?"

"i'm apparently connecting with you,” house indulges, relaxing into the cold bit of wall behind him. the moonlight hits him in a more subtle way, half hidden in the shadows. the blue of his wrinkled shirt melts into the glow it radiates.

you're not particularly sure what to say. thankfully, he elaborates.

“you share your food with me, i take your food, ergo it means something in wilson's romantic world,” house offers, before quickly dismissing the thought of his supposed feelings for you. "but you know wilson, he's always been a romantic. thinks he can diagnose emotions as easily as diseases."

you consider the argument, "well couldn't that just mean i can't finish my food and you don't wanna get your own?"

he squints at you, as if with drills for eyes. you're playing dumb, unless you really believe that. but you don't.

you clear your throat, "well, do you believe that?"

"well it's either that or i must obviously like you."

you gawk. "well, do you?"

"do i have to spell it out for you?"

"wilson had to," you snark back. "so, do you?"

"no," he says with a flat face.

something in your chest drops, just as your brows shoot up. "no?"

"no," he reaffirms.

you don't know if you manage to catch your frown. house doesn't say anything if you didn't. you're more than a little embarrassed, surely flushed. you're thankful that the two of you are under the dim veil of night.

"well good thing," you grumble.

house looks at you with a curious look, as if he was almost offended you would say that. "good thing?"

“we’re both lonely. lonely means self-sabotage,” you explain, fiddling with one of the main trinkets that line the ledge. you were sure you proving your point, coming up with an off-putting rationale to cover up your embarrassment. "two self-saboteurs, well, that's an equation with proven unresolved issues... so yeah, good thing."

you were internally cringing at the words you were spitting out, but you were trying to play it cool. it's something that's never worked in your favour though when you were near an attractive guy, and you always swore this was to make them repulse the inkling of interest. and you swore off doing this years ago, but the blunt rejection, if you could call it that, sprung the teenager out of you.

then again, house affects you like that. blue eyes and blue shirt and all.

he makes it no secret that he's a ladies' man, often hitching hookers into the hospital despite cuddy's gentle parenting to make him stop. but house does whatever he wants in the hospital, hence all the lawsuits you've had to deal with.

when you look at him again, he's somehow uncharacteristically quiet. you're unsure if his speculative eyes are because of a lightbulb moment, but one thing's for sure: he was thinking.

"you're thinking, aren't you?" you glean in a tilt.

house doesn't say anything, but turns away from you. when he does, you're unsure if you see his lip curl in disappointment—he hides it too well. some part of you hopes, but you know you're not his type. a bit too much like him in the overanalyzing and overthinking.

and maybe you're convincing yourself, but realistically speaking, your happy arrangement of sharing food in the middle of a hospital shift may work for lonely and misery, but not for anything else. two people who like self-sabotage is like a dumpster fire.

you'd rather have house like this, happy and alarmingly blue.

"aaand you've stopped listening. i shall take that as my cue to leave," you announce, hopping off the ledge in the same ginger fashion you had waltzing in.

when you land your feet, house airs his deduction, nodding along as if he was finally making sense of you and wilson’s hypothesis.

“maybe he’s onto something.”

you turn to him with a tinge of a worrisome brow.

“who knows? maybe i’ve been sending subtle signals that even i’m not aware of. so what do you think?” he croons his head, all ominous, arriving to a conclusion. you can practically see the cogs turn in his brain. “you like me.”

"i never said that.”

house looks at you, rising in a smooth motion, as if to showcase his towering height, forcing you to look up at him. sitting down, he's not so large, but now, all you can think is that he's tall.

"you might not, but your body does," he croons, dangerous smirk playing about his face. his eyes probe your face, confidently with a proven theory. "pupils dilated..."

house grabs your wrist, eyes practically lighting up in delight at his impending diagnosis.

"…and pulse elevated. i understand that wilson thinks that love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry's incredibly simple," he says, softening his grip on you.

house doesn't let go, lingering in this proximity, leaning closer like some ghost and spirit you'll always look for. your breath hitches, but house doesn't afford you time to quite think, capturing your lips in a kiss that you reciprocate, clutching onto his arms for balance.

you feel one of his hand snake to the nook of your back, pushing you flush against him. house keeps his other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, large enough to cover that expanse of your face. it's a little dry and rough, but you don't mind, all too preoccupied with his lips.

house makes good work on you. his lips are even better than you'd imagine, but you finally register his words and what you were doing, so you pull away. the furrow of your brows returning, apprehensive about his next words.

you whisper, “i thought you didn't like me.”

"i was lying," he shrugs. "i needed to see if i was right, and i was."

"so you figured me out?"

"you like me,” house concludes, triumphant. “i was right.”

“i thought this was wilson’s hypothesis?” you cock a brow.

“hypothesis,” he nods before flicking your head. “but i can’t give him the credit for my diagnosis.”

you let out an airy laugh, relieved that he didn't make you spell it out for him. "you're an ass, you know?"

his eyes are proudly heralding trumpets. you could practically hear the victory going off them.

"it comes with the sitting arrangement."

#house md #gregory house #gregory house x reader #greg house #greg house x reader #house md x reader #house md fic #gregory house x you #gregory house fic #dr house #hugh laurie #netflix #fluff #slight angst #james wilson #dr wilson #james wilson fic #james wilson x you #james wilson x reader

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fatuismooches · 5 months ago

Text

cor meum, manus tuas.

synopsis: After your illness strikes again, Dottore decides to gift you a failed experi-, a new companion in order to soothe your injured heart.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: A cute fluff fic where Dottie gives you Foxttore and the pufflings as a pet (the blue monster creature from Nahida's fairy tale.) He loves you a lot. Really just pure fluff and Foxttore getting on Dottore's nerves. Enjoy!

For as long as Il Dottore had known you, you had always been one to suggest things that he had no interest in. It was a habit of yours, and sometimes he’s not sure if you’re being genuine about it or if you simply want to rile him up, as you usually do.

One such example was back in the Akademiya when the two of you finally successfully reversed-engineered one of those machines after a painstaking amount of work. It was arduous and tiring, but immensely rewarding. Oh, he had so many ideas and things to do now, but you- you had other plans.

“So, now that we’ve got it under our control, I think we should program it to have some new tricks.” Zandik had paused at your words, as for once that was a good idea. He wondered what the limit of such a killing machine could possibly be.

“Go on.”

“Alright, imagine this, it’s about to swoop in and land the finishing blow, but instead, a whole bunch of confetti pops out and-”

“No.”

“You can’t even pick up a sword properly. You know nothing about fighting like I do! Just hear me out, it’ll be a great distraction because they’d never be expecting that, and boom, that’s where the real attack comes in.”

“No.” (Later on, he found out that you’d programmed the thing to have a single flower shoot out, just for him. He swiftly removed it after you were done laughing.)

Or when you had begged and pleaded with him to let you teach him how to cook, just once. It was no secret you were always the one on cooking duty during the Akademiya, for he had a severe lack of skill for it. Furthermore, Zandik had no interest in it, not having the time or patience for something just meant as sustenance. You, however, were insistent on at least teaching him the basics, for it was no way for a student to live (according to you.)

The slicing and dicing went well enough, but the moment you turned your back for a few moments, he had somehow set the smoke detector off, and the Akademiya’s dorm director gave you two a good scolding. You learned your lesson after this particular incident, but from your giggles, he knew you didn’t feel an ounce of regret.

Your antics were truly something he wouldn’t get used to. And now, over four hundred years later, your teasing nature had remained the same, only that it became more verbal as you didn’t have the strength to pull off your elaborate plans anymore.

Which is why lately you had been clinging to him with pleading eyes and a jutted lip, vehemently asking for a pet despite his numerous rejections, going so far as to try and recruit other segments (who, unfortunately for you, did not join your cause.)

“Please honey, my darling, my beloved, my-”

“My answer is not going to change, [Name]. I will not tolerate anything running around and causing a mess.”

“Aww, but come on. I know you love cats. I know you secretly pet them when no one’s looking. I know that-”

“That’s enough from you. Now, will you sit or should I strap you down instead?”

That line of conversation persisted for a while until you mostly gave up, only throwing the idea in from time to time with a hmph. But now, he was uncharacteristically wondering if there could be a solution to this problem.

Lately, you had been confined to your bed and room, too physically weak to move around much. He and the segments had done their best, as they always do, to take care of you, but one did not need to be a genius to know that you were feeling down. Not only because of the aches your body gave you, but also because you were lonely for most of the day, seeing as his other selves were usually too busy to spend an adequate amount of time with you. Once again, despite his lack of care for the emotions and feelings of others, he could see straight through your feigned expressions of nonchalance.

Dottore hated it when you pretended around him.

He could raise the topic but it would probably make matters worse. Instead, it was much more logical to work toward a solution for the issue - the solution being a companion to keep a smile on your face, and your mind at ease. Now, an actual pet probably would be a hassle to maintain in the lab, knowing the kind of activities that were… well, unsafe to say the least, so he put that possible solution to the side for now.

Initially, he sought to create something mechanical, having seen the mechanical animals from Fontaine. Of course, his creation would be far superior, and it would be quite helpful with your condition and all. But upon further thinking, knowing your tastes… you’d probably prefer something softer, considering how much you liked to cuddle him and your plushies.

It was a conundrum the scholar found himself in, making his darling lover happy was not something that could be so easily scientifically concocted like the rest of the conclusions he reached. It required much more than simply following the lines of reason. Perhaps that’s why Dottore often struggled with it.

Yet he did not have the luxury of time to continue pondering, for he did not want to leave you by yourself for much longer. And so he continued to sit at his desk, his hands automatically filling out paperwork while his mind was focused elsewhere, still thinking about what he could possibly gift you. Something warm and cuddly with the ability to communicate with you to some extent…

That was when he remembered something he created long, long ago.

The memories of that creation came back to him rather quickly once he remembered. Dottore remembered every experiment he’d done, but some were just not very special or successful and lingered very little in his mind. This was one of those unnoteworthy results. It was no secret that he was known to… play around with the concept of life, ignoring the rules that guarded it so strictly… and it was this idea that led to the birth of a creature, one that certainly did not belong to this world.

It was a monstrous, furry black thing that hid its true self with some kind of suit, its lone eye bright and red. It hadn’t been the first time his experiments led him to the unknown, but this… was just something he didn’t care about at all. After a few tests on the creature, he lost interest rather quickly. It was the farthest thing away from the life Dottore wanted to toy with. In fact, he had planned to dispose of the thing, but the creature seemed to understand his words more than he anticipated. It quickly scurried away, creating chaos and knocking down almost everything it could, skillfully making its escape.

Dottore had contemplated searching for his odd creation but decided that it wasn’t worth the time or energy. Judging from the distaste it held for him, it probably wouldn’t come around anyway. So, it could exist in the far depths of the lab for all he cared. It wasn’t like this was the first time he threw things into the back and forgot about them. Now, he was rather pleased that he didn’t get rid of his experiment. He had known you for long enough that he was sure you’d find such a thing cute, for some reason. It checked the fluffy and easily holdable boxes too. His only question was whether it could be alive after all these years… well, it was certainly worth a shot, seeing as his solutions were limited.

The answer to Dottore’s question was a yes. It had unfortunately taken much longer than he’d liked to search the dusty rooms (although admittedly, he had gotten a bit distracted with reviewing the old things he dumped) but at long last, he had found the round creature peacefully dozing without a care in… some kind of bed it had crafted with a bunch of papers and black fur. It looked perfectly content… in all honesty, Dottore was a bit interested in what it had been up to all this time. Maybe it held more scientific value than he thought…

Regardless, in one swift motion, Dottore grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and it immediately awoke, attempting to scramble away. Once its single eye laid on the man who so rudely interrupted its sleep, it blinked, before multiplying its strength to escape, even trying to scratch him, but to no avail. The Harbinger’s grip was far too strong, of course. Meanwhile, Dottore had already lost a bit of patience from the creature’s incessant movements.

“Stop that,” he demanded sharply, and the critter instantly went still as its eye continued to stare at him completely widened. Dottore smiled, which felt rather eerie and frightening to the oversized creature.

“What, did you think I came all the way here to finish the job? Oh no, if I wanted to, I would have done so already a long time ago. Instead, I have another use for you. Something that will benefit both of us. I’m sure you’ll agree,” he hummed as he turned to leave the room. But as he took a single step, he found himself stepping on something soft. Curiously lifting his foot, he looked down to see a small, black, round ball of fluff staring at him with a red eye identical to the creature he held in his hand. And then another came into view.

… And another. Soon at least over a dozen had popped out of the shadows, all watching at him with anticipating eyes. He had forgotten these balls of black fur were also a byproduct of creating the creature. Now quite a few had surrounded his feet and were hopping up and down, attempting to climb his pants, which he quickly shook off with a scowl. Well, it looked like these things were going to follow him regardless of what he said…

“If you all are going to follow me, be prepared to make yourself useful,” he sighed in exasperation before finally leaving, stepping on a few more in the process. (The usefulness in question, was making sure you’d be left with a smile.) Based on the odd squeaking noises the smaller creatures made, they seemed to be on board with the idea.

—

When your husband suddenly presented you with a gift contained in a rather large box, you were a bit surprised. Not because you were receiving a gift, but because of the size of it. Normally, he would give you small trinkets and such, things he’d thought you’d like (that had no real purpose to him, retrieved solely for you. Yes, he was very cute unintentionally. You had a little shelf for his stuff.) But you had no clue what he could have possibly gotten for you that warranted the need for such a big container…

You had long discarded your book in favor of new entertainment (you were reading the same sentences over and over anyway), your hands gliding over the rough material. Dottore was looking at you expectantly, having barely said anything besides shoving the thing on your bed, with a simple “for you.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, your chest getting a bit lighter from the previously stuffy atmosphere dissipating.

“Are you going to explain yourself or leave me guessing as to what I’ve done to receive such a thing?”

“You have been lonely and tired, and I seek to alleviate your pain. Yet there are certain things I cannot always do, which is why I found a solution,” he stated simply, pushing the box closer to you as if it was no big deal. Your eyes widened as your jaw hung, speechless, before you sent a small, teasing smile to your husband.

“I… well, who knew you could be such a considerate man? Keep that up and you’ll make me blush.” You couldn’t help but heat up a bit from his concern, although he didn’t say it outright. And you didn’t really have it in you to deny his words too, he was right after all, you have been lonely and tired from being cooped up in your room all day.

“Still, I want a hint! Ah, it’s too heavy for me to even lift up…” You couldn’t guess what could be in here. “Could it be the latest new novels from Inazuma?”

“No, but those are on the way. It’s something more-” At that moment, the box slightly shifted and you blinked in surprise.

“Oh, oh! Are these new models of Beta’s miniature Ruin Machines? Did he finally make the Ruin Sentinels series?” In truth, initially, the segment wasn’t interested in creating such pointless machines, but after you oh so innocently challenged him to make them movable and fit in the palm of your hand, he took the bait and presented them to you smugly. Needless to say, you very much liked your little collection of action figures, and you were hoping he had finally made ones that could fly.

“No, it’s-” Once again, he was interrupted by even more dramatic shuffling, thumping echoing loudly from inside the box which made you scoot back a bit.

“Dottore, you sure whatever’s in here isn’t going to attack me…?” Your voice was more lighthearted than worried, but now you were squinting at him a bit suspiciously. Dottore’s expression remained unaffected, but inside he was the slightest bit annoyed. He had told those damn things not to move around. Thankfully, a sharp slap to the cover of the box caused the movements to cease, and he only smiled at you once again.

“As I was saying, it’s something you have been asking about for a long time.” He watched as your face turned thoughtful, fingers drumming when suddenly it became very obvious as to what it was.

“Is it… is it what I think it is?” He found your expression rather amusing as he witnessed your eyes becoming sparkly with joy.

“Go ahead,” Dottore motioned and you wasted no time pulling the cover off the box, your eyes meeting a furry, blue creature whose lone eye gazed up at you curiously. You blinked at it, and it blinked back at you, but you had no time to say anything before some other unknown creatures began pouring out the box and spilling onto your bed, some crawling on your lap. This was certainly not the average pet you had expected… but you were not complaining. These things were the cutest - not to mention the little strand of hair on the top.

“Dottore,” you giggled at the fluff tickling your skin, “what exactly are these- oh!” Your words were interrupted when the larger creature suddenly jumped out of the box and launched itself into you, pawing your chest. You reciprocated the attention in delight, giving it numerous head pats and taking a closer look at it. Most of its soft fur seemed to be blue, although its head was black, and its beak was harder than the rest of its body. Regardless, it was completely adorable, and it seemed to like you very much.

“It is something I created in my lab during one of my experiments. I figured it would be something you’d enjoy.” You lit up, and the scholar couldn’t help but appreciate how you seemed to glow.

“You made these little guys for me? Oh, I always knew you could be such a romantic! I have my husband, my son, and now a cute pet. Isn’t it nice to see our family grow, Zandik?” He remained silent at your hastily made conclusion, deciding that the little white lie wouldn’t hurt, especially not when you looked this happy. After all, he imagined your response to him keeping this creature in the backrooms of his laboratory for ages wouldn’t be very well received, considering how attached you were to it already. Thankfully, you didn’t notice the glare the creature sent him either.

“Do they have names yet?” Dottore thought back to the string of numbers and letters attached to this experiment and opted not to disclose that, shaking his head. You hummed, trying to think of what name to bestow upon your new pets until you quickly came up with something good.

“Foxttore,” you stated firmly.

“Foxttore?” He repeated a few seconds after you, rather unimpressed.

“Yes! Because he looks like a fox, and he also kind of looks like you!” You playfully squished the creature’s cheeks.

“I bear no resemblance to that creature,” he frowned, immediately refuting your statement.

“Don’t look like that,” you teased. “It’s a compliment. You’re both cuties that are the same shade of blue,” you leaned in to kiss him gently, a simple way to silence him despite his vexation. “Now as for these little ones…” you thought once more as the black puff balls clung to your arm, Dottorelings… no, that’s too long… how about pufflings? Yes, that will do nicely!” Seemingly understanding your words, the pufflings began jumping up and down in glee. You then moved closer to the man and enveloped him in a hug.

“Thank you for this, Zandik. I am very happy,” you whispered quietly as you snuggled into his neck. It was the truth - you really were happy to have some company constantly around. Your husband returned the hug and you loved how his strong arms felt around you.

“Of course. But if they happen to cause you any… trouble,” he sent a look to the thing now called “Foxttore”, “be sure to tell me.”

“Aww, don’t say that. Foxttore is a good boy! Right?” You smiled brightly at your new pet, who was kneading the blanket, watching the two of you. The contrast between its creator’s less-than-pleasant face and your wide grin was stark and rather easy to choose from. It then hopped up and practically wedged itself in between the two of you, looking up to you with a pleading eye, desperate for attention. You squealed with delight and pressed the creature to your cheek, nuzzling against it.

When Dottore noticed the cheeky look his creation sent him, he wondered if this was actually a good idea.

—

Foxttore and the pufflings were the best and cutest companions you could ever ask for.

The pufflings were always scattered about your room, resting in different locations. You honestly had no clue how many there were, nor could you tell them apart, but you swore they squeezed through the bottom of your door somehow because sometimes they’d return with random items. They seemed pretty starved for attention… they even liked it when you squished them like a stress ball.

Foxttore was equally as cuddly, but also rather intelligent. He would fetch you items so you didn’t need to get up, and he could even turn a doorknob… you were fascinated. One of your favorite things to do was give him a note for him to deliver to a segment, and he would actually deliver it. (Said note usually contained you begging a segment to visit you, otherwise you’d die without their attention.)

After a lot of cuddling and rubbing, you found out that Foxttore was just a severely oversized puffling with four legs instead. That blue fur of his wasn’t even his, just a suit he wore. It was quite funny to see him without it on. It seemed rather shy without its fox fur, but with enough kisses, hugs, and reassurance, it had no problem lounging around without it.

You read them stories, showed them everything your room had to offer, placed some of Beta’s cute pink bows on them, bathed with them - you were starting to look forward to the day much more now that you could wake up to them.

—

While Dottore knew that you would get attached to the little monstrosities he gifted you, perhaps he didn’t anticipate it to reach this degree. Even after you had gotten well enough to stroll around the lab again, the blasted things were attached to your hip the whole time.

Visiting the segments? They would come up to you, caressing and teasing you with their deliciously infuriating small touches and kisses, and then all of a sudden a small crash would sound throughout the room, the culprit being Foxttore.

Visiting him? He’d have you on his lap, about to pin you to his desk, when he noticed the pufflings watching him from all corners of the room. It was maddening trying to chase them away, but then you’d get pouty about how the creatures didn’t like to be alone. (The only segment that the creature seemed to like was Zandy, although it had taken a while - a bit of scolding from you, and many offerings of food from the child to Foxttore had done the trick.)

As much as Dottore was glad your mood had improved greatly, admittedly, it would please him if he could just chuck his creations out into the Snezhnayan snow, just to finally get some alone time with you. But you loved them too much, so he resolved to resort to other means… eventually.

Over time, your pets gradually began to not hog your attention the whole time, but you were very insistent on helping Dottore and them become friends. It wasn’t very easy, however, they seemed to have some tension between them. You weren’t really sure why, but you still loved having them together.

—

“Dottore! Oh Dottore, you have to watch this,” you puffed out your chest proudly as Foxttore trotted behind you. Your husband looked at you questioningly before you spread your arms out, directing them toward the creature.

“I taught Foxttore tricks! Watch this! Foxttore, sit!” Your pet obediently sat down, his tail wagging (although you had no clue how that worked since it was just a suit…)

“Foxttore, spin around!”

“Foxttore, roll over!”

“Now high-five me!” Dottore watched in amusement as the blue creature followed your commands with ease. Perhaps it really was smarter than he thought. Regardless, all he cared about was that you were occupied with something, rather than being by yourself.

“Okay, now fetch Dottore’s secret stash of sweets!” At that, Foxttore began making its way over to one of the numerous bookshelves in Dottore’s office before the Harbinger quickly realized what you said, and stopped the creature in its tracks.

“I knew there were too many pieces missing,” he stared at you humorlessly, while you sweated nervously.

“W-What? You said I was allowed to take some!”

“I said you, not this… thing,” the man then picked up Foxttore by its strands of blue hair, which the creature fought at, and dropped it in your arms like it was some pest. “I’m moving it.”

“Please don’t! I won’t do it again!”

—

The continued pampering of Foxttore had, unfortunately for your lovers, become a norm to see around the lab. He was a spoiled lil shit, in other words, who could do no wrong in your eyes… which is why every new thing you did had little to no effect on them anymore besides an eye twitch of annoyance and a promise to bully the creature later. The current situation was one such time. Dottore had come into your room only to see many abnormally small clothes scattered on your bed, with you in the center of it all.

“Oh Dottie, you’re just in time! Look at what I got!” You then held up Foxttore in all his glory, his new hoodie substantially thinner with different patterns, a great big smile on your face.

… It was only you who had the privilege of using his time like this.

“Now before you ask how I got these, I had them custom-made! See, I wanted to sew the clothes myself, but my hands have been too shaky lately and then you’d get all grumpy if I hurt myself with the needle, so I just asked Columbina to find someone for me and she did! She’s a great friend!” You continued to ramble on.

“See, the poor thing gets too hot sometimes, especially when he starts running on our walks,” you said sadly, while he wondered how exactly you walked this monstrosity, “that’s why I got him different clothes! And they’re stylish too! Look, he’s even got pajamas! Don’t you think it’s cute?” You looked at him, your eyes sparkling and glittering with light that dazzled him.

In all honesty, Dottore didn’t really care about the little abomination of a creature. In fact, he probably leaned more into disdain for it. But what he did care about was you, and what made you happy, what put a smile on your face since he hated for it to be missing.

“I believe your definition of cute is rather unusual.”

“Huh? How could you not think Foxttore is the cutest thing ever? Oh… I see your game. You think I’m the cutest thing ever, don’t you?” You boldly teased him which didn’t phase him, only making a confident smirk grow on his face.

“I suppose that would be accurate, yes. Nothing else comes to mind that could be compared to your beauty,” he said smoothly, plucking the creature from your hands and dropping it elsewhere, which it clearly disliked, but he was more interested in your reaction. Your mouth slightly ajar, heat creeping up your face with a flustered expression, breathing speeding up a bit.

“A-As long as you’re aware,” you mumbled shyly, turning your face away, although your slight smile was apparent.

Needless to say, Zandik was always aware of his beloved.

—

You always loved it when you were able to leave the lab. Sometimes they were frequent outings, sometimes they were very rare. It all depended on how well you had been feeling lately. Today, you had finally been able to go out for a short walk with Dottore after so long. The cold air and snow had you shivering, but feeling the wind hit your cheeks was worth it. (And being able to cling to your husband was a definite plus in your books.) But you were still happy to come back home.

… Especially when you were greeted by your little friend.

As soon as you walked through the door, you noticed that Foxttore was impatiently waiting by the entrance. The moment he saw you, he sped toward you at light speed and pawed at your legs for pets, hopping up and down. You couldn’t help but laugh as you bent down to give him some attention which he happily reciprocated, but then he pulled away and started wildly running around the two of you.

“Aww, Foxttore is having zoomies!”

“… Pardon?”

“He’s having zoomies!” You smiled at your husband before crouching down, and your pet immediately ran into your arms and settled himself there as you picked him up. “Aww, you must have missed us so much, didn’t you?” You cooed as you rubbed his tummy, while Dottore merely stared at you blankly. The man then noticed the creature’s eye had narrowed into a half circle directed toward him as if to mock him.

If there was a point system between the two of them as to who was able to steal your attention more, Dottore would sorely be losing.

—

It was one of the few nights where you were able to spend a night like most couples do at the end of the day - resting in the same bed with your lover. You weren’t even sure how you managed to do it this time. You thought it was probably due to your persistence but also that he was genuinely tired. (Well, he had been genuinely tired for ages now, but you were able to get him on a weak day, perhaps.)

You had always loved it when Dottore held you, even if it was slack or just one arm, you always felt safe. Protected. Warm. Happy. The feelings only amplified when both his arms caged you into his chest, which was the perfect place for you to snuggle. (Still, he’d never admit to being the little spoon from when he was a student.)

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done lately, by the way.”

“Of course,” his answer was as simple as could be. He stroked your hair languidly, always one to brush off your thank yous.

“I mean it,” you wiggled out of his grip to look him in the eye, lip jutting out slightly.

“I already know you do. You do not need to keep saying it every time.” You pouted at his response. How else were you supposed to show your appreciation? You then grabbed his arm, which was surprisingly pliable, and placed his hand over your heart.

“Then let me know if you need anything from me. Anything at all. I have to pay you back eventually, you know.” Dottore looked as if he was enjoying himself.

“What do you propose? I’ll listen to your suggestions.”

“Well… I have kisses and cuddles as my expertise. I can cook and bake for you sometimes too… oh, but I can also try doing some of your paperwork! …What? You’re not impressed? I guess I can try to do some more… unsavory tasks as well. The Fatui agents listen to what I have to say quite easily,” you continued to chatter as Dottore’s fingers made their way from your cheek to your neck and then your collarbone, making you stammer at the sensation. “Hey, you’re not even taking me seriously, are you?” Your husband only chuckled at your furrowed eyebrows and grumbling.

If anything, he would want you to repay him by letting him see the faces you’ll make once you’re finally free of your illness.

“Anyway…” you squeezed his hand with yours that still rested on your chest, “You probably know this already, with that ever-calculating mind of yours, but you hold my heart in your hands. I’ll always be here with you.” It was a funny thing to think about, giving your heart to someone like him, in both a physical and intangible sense. Trusting him with your frail body, trusting him with your love, knowing he could squeeze it to a pulp if he wanted to. But he wouldn’t.

He would treat your heart with the utmost care and precaution, not daring to risk even the slightest harm to it.

Dottore stared at you for a few moments while you held his gaze, resolute on making your point known. Wordlessly, he began to move closer to your soft lips, intent on making his response to your statement physical. He was so close, his nose brushing against yours, and your warm breath on his. He was about to finally satiate his desire when-

Something was scratching at the door. Loudly, too. The sudden noise made you jump back and turn your gaze to the door. The Harbinger had a bad feeling about this.

“Did you hear that?”

“No.”

“You’re just lying now!” With a huff, you pushed the blankets off, much to his displeasure, and made your way to the door, opening it. There was Foxttore, making strange noises that he tried his best to mask as cries.

The bliss Dottore felt a few moments ago had turned to immense annoyance immediately.

“Oh, you poor baby! Did you have a nightmare or something?” You exclaimed before quickly scooping Foxttore into your arms and bringing him onto the bed. “It’s okay, you’re with us now…” You softly murmured, stroking it gently as you let it settle on your chest. Where Dottore’s hands should be right now, cupping your soft skin instead of that damned creature.

Dottore swore he was going to throw that thing out once you were asleep.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin il dottore #genshin dottore x reader #genshin dottore #dottore #dottore fluff #il dottore #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #zandik x reader #genshin dotttore #dottore genshin #genshin impact x you #fragile reader <3 #divider by cafekitsune

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italiangirlcoresblog · 1 month ago

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main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠...

✩ : as the 2024 season comes to an end, so does the time you have left to finally confess your feelings to lando

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : lando norris

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,3k

✍︎ : this is my way of celebrating lando's win in abu dhabi. honestly, i was kinda hoping it would end like this, and seeing him smile again after the shitshow the last few races were was the best conclusion i could've imagined for this season.

i'm also planning to write one for carlos, a sort of 'other side of the coin': same scenario, same feelings involved, but a totally different atmosphere (which means heavy angst because i don't think i'll ever get over him leaving ferrari). let me know if you're interested! 🩷🧡

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

The McLaren garage had always been a lively place, but nothing could have prepared you — or any of your teammates — for the chaos that Lando's win brought that night.

Abu Dhabi, the last race on the 2024 season calendar, the last chance for the team to become great once again, and Lando had made it. He'd pulled off an absolute masterclass on track, securing both his fourth career win and the Constructors’ Championship title for McLaren, and you were there to witness it.

The moment he crossed the finish line in first, it seemed like the whole team gasped for air after holding their breath during the entire race. Then came the cheers, the hugs, the shouts, the tears of joy and relief… and him.

Being a part of the Papaya crew, you were as excited as everyone else for the long-awaited victory, of course, but the only thing you could seem to focus on were Lando’s watery eyes, sparkling under the bright lights of the Yas Marina Circuit.

It was written on his face — you could see it in his smile: he was proud of himself. For the first time in so long, that’s what his almost unbelieving gaze screamed, what you were dying to scream too.

You made it, Lando.

The celebration that followed was a blur of champagne, noisy music, and dances, yet the loudest party was the one going on inside your heart, which seemed to follow the rhythm of Lando’s laughter.

How long can a person hide their true feelings for someone they’ve known for… well, a while? In your case, what had initially started as a harmless, silly little crush almost seven months before was now the reason your world had lit up as soon as you’d seen Lando smile again.

You couldn’t keep it in anymore now, could you? After all, what better time to confess your embarrassingly strong feelings for him than as the perfect conclusion of such an eventful night?

Taking one last deep breath and a long sip of champagne from a nearby glass, you finally gained enough courage to walk up to where Lando was standing, surrounded by a crowd of orange t-shirts as he casually chatted with Oscar.

Once you reached him, you cleared your throat to get him to acknowledge you, which he almost immediately did, turning his head toward you with the biggest, brightest smile still plastered on his face.

“Hey,” you muttered, face flushed under his piercing stare. “Hey.” He didn’t hesitate, pulling you into an ecstatic side hug that only worsened your situation, totally unaware of the effect his presence — him in general, to be honest — had on you.

“I, uh… congratulations, Lando,” you somehow managed to blurt out, your cheeks completely on fire by the time he let go of you.

“Thanks.” His smile seemed to soften, as well as the look in his eyes, which lingered on your face with something that almost resembled tenderness. That’s all you needed to keep going.

“You deserve it. I mean it.” You stopped him before he could say anything, your voice unexpectedly firm since you knew he was about to shrug your compliment off. “You worked so hard for it, and I’m not just talking about tonight. The win, the championship — you earned it all, Lando. Everyone here is proud of you, and… I’m really proud of you, too.”

You could feel your face burning as the last words left your mouth, and when you dared to look directly at him, you could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of redness crawling up his neck and softly tinting his cheeks… but it must’ve been the garage lights, right?

“Well, thanks… again,” he chuckled, his right hand shooting up to scratch the back of his neck while his eyes finally left yours, falling to his feet instead.

As you opened your mouth once again, words fighting to go past the lump in your throat, someone from the team suddenly called out Lando’s name, his attention shifting to the engineer as he briefly waved at him.

This was it. If you let him go, you knew you wouldn’t find another moment like that for a while. No more backing down, no more second-guessing yourself — it had to be now.

“Wait, I… I need to tell you something else.” The almost panicked tone you used made his head snap back toward you, his eyes shifting from the hand you’d grabbed his arm with to yours, a spark of something you couldn’t really put your finger on flashing across them. “Yeah?” Was that… hope, in his voice?

“I just–well, I’ve been thinking about this… a lot. It’s not exactly easy for me to say, but–” You let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through your hair. “God, I’m already making a mess of this. What I’m trying to say is…”

Your gaze wandered over all the faces that surrounded you, suddenly very aware of their presence, until it landed on Oscar’s. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he just gave you an encouraging nod, to which the words started spilling out in a flood.

“I like you, Lando. I have for a while now. Ok, maybe more than a while, but that’s not the point. And not in a friendly kind of way, more like in a ‘I’ve-liked-you-for-over-seven-months-now-but-I-didn’t-know-how-to-tell-you’ kind of way, which sounds desperate when I say it out loud but–”

You stopped, realizing how fast you were talking, your words tumbling over each other. Lando’s expression hadn’t changed, and your stomach dropped.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, both your hands blocking out the defeated sigh you let out shortly after. “Listen, forget I said anything. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut–”

And that’s exactly what you did.

Before you could even process what was going on, Lando’s fingers were tightly wrapped around your wrists, giving them a firm yet gentle tug that drew you right into him, your lips meeting halfway.

The kiss took you completely by surprise, eyes widening in disbelief as your words got muffled by Lando’s mouth, which had crashed almost aggressively against yours, stealing your breath right away. His lips tasted yours, hungry, the lingering flavor of champagne making your head spin together with the room around you; someone whistled, someone even shouted an amused ‘Get a room!’, but you felt like you were under a glass bell, everything else shut out from the little universe only you and Lando had access to.

Lost in the burning sensation of your mouths moving together, he placed your hands on his chest and brought up his own to cup your jaw, his thumbs gently grazing your cheeks as you tangled your fingers through his brown curls to deepen the kiss even more.

When you broke away, he didn’t entirely pull back — not yet — his forehead rested lightly against yours, a lazy grin now plastered on his face. “You talk too much, you know that?” he teased, voice barely above a whisper, only for you to hear.

“I–you–why…?” A series of incoherent words fell from your mouth, the realization of what had just happened hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“Because I like you too, you muppet,” he mumbled, the blush on his cheeks now blatant. “And I would’ve told you tonight if you just didn’t beat me to it. But I guess I can’t win them all, now, can I?”

“Wait, you actually like me?” It was all too good to be true, like a dream from which you’d eventually have to wake up.

“Do I need to kiss you again to prove it?” His tone was playful, but the look in his eyes spoke louder than any words ever could. “Maybe you do,” you breathed out, your smile matching his own as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, the rest of the world immediately fading away and leaving no room for doubt.

Because now, now you knew.

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

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kaleidohscopic · 2 months ago

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TRY AGAIN — JJH

PAIRING: jaehyun x female reader SUMMARY: if you could have it your way, you'd never have to see, hear, or even think about jeong jaehyun ever again. a fortuitous blind date, and that same dimpled smile after all those years, is somehow enough to make you reconsider. maybe he was always meant to be by your side. GENRE: exes to lovers! au, slight coworkers! au, romance, angst, slow burn, humour, some pining, a touch of smut WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, too many descriptions of coffee and wine, mentions of sex, general mature content and themes, reader is not good at talking about her feelings, joy x doyoung, i try to write about the complexity of relationships and personal growth (i fail miserably) WORD COUNT: 32.4k NOTE: oh. my god. it's finally here! there's certainly something different about writing for your ult. office scenes inspired by the internship i did at a big 4 firm that ended up rejecting everyone from my department (yes i'm still bitter). i actually wanted to get this out back in august to celebrate jolo but alas, Life. i guess this is a parting gift? (jaehyun i am nothing and nobody without you.) i poured a lot of heart into this fic and posting it feels like letting my child go out into the world alone... be safe my darling xx

You should’ve brought an umbrella.

The early evening sky was darkening faster than usual, ominous grey clouds hovering between the skyscrapers like an unspoken but imminent threat. Though the ground was still dry, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be for long. Your haste to leave your apartment this morning had robbed you of the good sense to check the weather forecast, mind too preoccupied with tonight’s agenda to spare a thought for the possible torrential downpour that summer seemed to be so fond of.

A glance down at your feet sent a twinge of annoyance through you. Of course you picked the black pumps to wear today. They were pretty, which was why you had slipped them on in the first place, wanting to make a good impression even if you told yourself you didn’t really care that much, but they were also expensive, and you did not want to get them wet. You said a silent prayer. Hopefully the impending rain would be kind to the leather.

“You better not be flaking,” Joy warned, voice crackling through your phone speaker. “I don’t really care what he thinks of you for not showing up, but it’ll reflect badly on me, and I can’t have that.”

You suppressed a smile. Ever the drama queen.

“I am literally walking out of the station right now. The Italian place, right?” you asked, pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs to gather your surroundings. The restaurant she had picked out wasn’t exactly an unknown location to you, but it had been a while since you last visited, and the buildings seemed to look back at you with a dazed unfamiliarity.

She gave an affirmative hum. “Two streets down from the exit. The reservation is under my name, but I think he might be there already.”

“Yippee. How exciting.”

There was a loud sigh from the other end of the line, and you could almost hear her rolling her eyes at you. “You do know I set this up with your best interests at heart, right?”

“Are you sure it’s not because you were bored and needed to use some poor soul for your own entertainment?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who put three packets of salt in Jungwoo’s coffee,” she fired back.

Okay, maybe that one was on you. But it had been pretty funny seeing him spit it out all over the office kitchen counter and then meticulously clean up the mess with paper towels, all the while eyeing everyone on your floor with suspicion.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “give him a chance. I think you guys could really like each other.” There was a pause. “Plus, he’s super fucking hot. Like if I wasn’t happily taken I would be climbing him like a tree.”

“Gross. I’m filing a complaint with HR.”

“Reporting me to my own department? I’ll make sure that file never even makes it through the portal,” she cackled at your empty threat, and you joined in with her. “Seriously though, just give him a chance. At least stay until the mains come out.”

“Fine,” you acquiesced, though you made sure she heard the huff that accompanied it. “But if he starts talking about cryptocurrency I am leaving.”

Joy only laughed, assuring you he probably wouldn’t, and bid you goodbye with a parting command for you to enjoy yourself.

On days like these, you couldn’t decide whether you were grateful or unlucky to have been placed on a team with her for your first project at the company. Technically speaking, Joy was your senior by almost two years, but even at that first daily stand-up half a year ago, filled with nervous smiles and clumsy introductions, you had the feeling the two of you would gel. By the time that first project wrapped up, the two of you had long progressed past mere co-workers, having bonded over 8-hour days of Powerpoint formatting and your mutual dislike of olives. You had never been more thankful for someone so vivacious to show you the ropes, and help you settle into the new environment with such ease.

However, Joy was a meddler.

Her meddling was what had you currently navigating the crumbly asphalt in your nicest shoes to meet the apparent hunk she had set you up with. You didn’t know much about the guy since she refused to give you his name, afraid you’d search him up on social media and then make up some excuse to back out once you had seen his face — like you had done with the previous two that she’d picked out for you.

Apparently, this one was from the Digital department, and had been at the company for a little over a year. Those were two out of the three pieces of information that she had deigned to bestow upon you, the third being that he had dimples, which she thought you’d appreciate.

Oh, and now the fourth one being that he was ‘super fucking hot’.

Who knew? Maybe you would enjoy yourself. Getting back into the dating scene was pretty low on your priorities, with your career and trying to stick to a consistent gym routine taking up the majority of your time, but you were never opposed to a bit of fun.

Maybe Mr Super-Fucking-Hot could be a bit of fun.

Just take it easy, you thought to yourself, spotting the glass windows of the restaurant as you rounded the corner. Il Giardino, read the sign that hung above the door. Cute.

Hastily, you shifted your bag and cardigan to the other arm and smoothed out the creases in your black trousers. You had tried for something a little dressy, but also office-appropriate since you were coming straight from work, and not like you had tried too hard and spent an unnecessary number of hours thinking about what to wear on this stupid blind date. Another quick glance at your reflection in the window, just to make sure there was no food or lipstick in your teeth, and you pushed past the door.

Soft jazz filtered through your ears as you stepped inside. The restaurant was nicely decorated, a few vintage Italian posters hanging on the exposed brick walls, and an overall rustic feel that paired well with the warm, earthy ambience. Judging by the patrons already seated, this place was a popular date night location, with all but one table occupied by couples sharing soft touches and flirty smiles over half-filled glasses of red wine.

Joy certainly knew how to pick a spot.

You gave the smiling hostess Joy’s name for the reservation, managing a weak smile of your own when she informed you that the other half of your party had already arrived, and followed her through the tables further into the restaurant. Outside, the first few raindrops had begun to splatter against the asphalt, slowly darkening the road with wet patches that were sure to grow into puddles. It seemed you had arrived just in time to escape the rain.

The hostess stopped at a more private table towards the back, and gestured towards the empty seat with that same welcoming smile. Mystery man, aka Mr Super-Fucking-Hot, was sat with his back to you, leafing through what you assumed to be the drinks menu. His silhouette from behind was alright-looking, you supposed, if you really had to put a label to it, but there was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his head. Perhaps you had crossed paths in the office lobby before?

You approached the table, trying to sneak a peek of him out of the corner of your eye, just to see if he lived up to Joy’s oh-so-generous description, without being so painfully obvious—

And froze.

“Is everything alright?” the hostess asked, still beaming at you.

You barely heard her through the cotton wool that seemed to suddenly fill your ears, hands instantly clamming up as you took in the man in front of you. His warm eyes widened a fraction of a millimetre with recognition, quickly followed by something else you couldn’t place.

This was not happening.

“Is everything okay?” the hostess tried again. The corners of her mouth were beginning to slip, and she cast you a mildly concerned glance.

How strange you must have looked, standing stock-still beside your reserved table like a statue. The only things that could dispel the notion you had suddenly turned into stone were the light flush to your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your own heart that you were sure the whole restaurant could hear.

“Everything’s fine, just give us a minute please,” Jaehyun finally said, flashing the hostess a kind smile. She took her cue to leave, but not without another curious look between the two of you, hurriedly brushing away the waiter who was approaching the table and preparing to rattle off the specials.

Hearing his voice seemed to break the spell that had rendered you so immobile. You straightened, shifting your bag higher up your shoulder, and turned to leave. Whatever this was, you were not entertaining it.

Chair legs screeched abruptly against the floor.

“Wait,” he pleaded.

Your eyes landed on his hand latched around your wrist first, before they moved to his face again. Slowly, his fingers loosened, but he kept you in his hold.

“Will you sit, please?” he asked softly.

You looked at him. Really looked at him, taking in his full, straight brows, the slope of his nose, the pinkness of his lips. His cheeks had slimmed since you had last seen him, allowing the sharpness of his jaw to really come through. Breathtakingly handsome as he always had been. A little older, a little more masculine, and yet somehow still the same.

And maybe because you still saw him, the boy that you loved, the first and likely only boy you had ever truly loved, you did sit, sliding into your chair like it was made of ice.

“It’s been a while,” he began, lowering back into his seat. You gave no indication that you had heard him at all, eyes focused on the flickering tealight candle at the centre of the table. The wax was a pinkish red colour, and the light scent coming from it was sweet, with a touch of tartness. Pomegranate, maybe. At your silence, he cleared his throat and tried again. “How have you—”

“Did you plan this?”

He pulled back a bit, as if in genuine shock. “No, I swear, I had no idea it was you. Joy only told me it was someone from her department, and that you were pretty, and she thought you’d be my type.” A pause. “Did you?”

Your reply was icy. “Why would I plan to see you?”

He looked away at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. You were probably mistaken, but something akin to hurt flashed in those eyes as he gave a short nod at your words. Likely a trick of the light. It was a little too dim in here. What reason would he have to be hurt? Why would he be bleeding when you were the one with cuts all over your hands from picking up the glass shards of your own broken heart?

An uncomfortable beat passed. “Well, I’d say it was nice to see you, but you know I’m not good at lying,” you said. Shouldn’t have sat down in the first place.

Grabbing your bag and cardigan, you made to stand up again, regretting your decision to come here, regretting giving in to Joy so easily, regretting leaving the house this morning without a stupid fucking umbrella. The drizzle outside had turned into a downpour in no time, and the street drains were definitely going to clog up tonight.

Seoul and its fucking summer monsoon season.

“Can we just—please, can you—fuck. Can we have dinner and just talk? As friends?” His hand shot out across the table, as if itching to grab yours again, but thought better of it, letting his fingertips rest against the edges of the linen napkin you hadn’t even bothered to unfold.

A refraction of light from his sleeve caught your eye. His cufflinks. He was wearing the cufflinks you had gotten him for your high school graduation all those years ago.

They had been expensive. Four months of pay from your part-time job at the ice-cream parlour was just enough for the pale pearls set in sterling silver. You supposed it would have been silly of him to throw them away when they were so valuable. It wasn’t like you had thrown away the gold pendant he had given you either. That necklace hadn’t hung around your neck for a long time, but it still sat somewhere in the depths of your jewellery box, underneath all the newer ones you had bought for yourself or received from friends over the years.

“Fine,” you found yourself saying. “Sure. As friends. Why not?”

Sinking back into your seat, you reached for the wine menu immediately. Enduring the next hour in the company of your ex-boyfriend without a drink? Unbearable. As much as you liked to convince yourself you were over him, from your behaviour tonight it was clear you most certainly were not, and only alcohol could soothe that blow to your pride.

Your eyes flitted down the page of reds, then the whites, then the sparklings. Christ, the prices in this place were not pretty. Joy would have to be in a completely separate tax bracket from you if these were the kinds of establishments she frequented.

For a brief moment, you thought about ordering the most expensive bottle on the list — a Penfold’s 2018 Shiraz — just to be spiteful, but decided against it. If you were really going to be sharing a meal ‘as friends’, he would not be footing the entire bill. You wouldn’t let him.

The waiter, under the impression that things had somewhat cooled down, finally approached your table, albeit a bit cautiously. Hearing but not really listening, you let him sing praises about the wild mushroom ravioli, ordering it just to save yourself the effort of reading through the rest of the menu. When he reached the beverages portion of his spiel, you settled for a more reasonable bottle, a 2021 merlot.

It was only once he had left to put your orders in that you realised that you had not even checked if Jaehyun was driving tonight.

“I’ll pay for the wine, if you’re not drinking,” you said, fiddling with your napkin. You could probably finish the whole bottle yourself anyway. Maybe that would make it easier to look him in the eye.

“You really don’t need to do that,” he replied, voice soft but firm. The weight of his eyes on you was almost a tangible thing. “I’ll have a glass.”

Your waiter returned, making a show of uncorking the bottle before pouring it out into both your glasses. You couldn’t down the first one fast enough, draining half the contents in one long mouthful like it was your first taste of water after finishing a marathon. Jaehyun was more deliberate with his glass, taking only a few small sips before he set it down on the table again. If he noticed the speed at which you emptied yours, which it was pretty hard not to with the way you were gulping the wine down, he said nothing.

God, this was fucking awkward.

“So,” he began, trying to mask the crack of his voice with a cough, “what made you agree to this thing?”

You reached for the bottle. “Felt like I owed it to Joy,” you said, pouring yourself another glass. “I flaked out of the last two she organised.”

Maybe you should have just gone on that first one with Taehyung, or Taehyun, or whatever his name was. Then you could have avoided this situation altogether.

“So you do this kind of thing a lot, then?” came his careful question.

You were curt. “No.”

He blinked a few times, the movements slow with confusion at the abruptness of your answer. You knew you were being difficult. You wanted to be. Five years could heal most things, but unspoken words could linger like splinters under your fingernails, festering below the surface. Calluses had hardened over the splinters of your breakup, tough and protective, but now it was as if they were pushing through to the surface again, your fingers newly tender at the sight of him after all those years.

A small part of you wanted to give him a taste of your hurt, wanted him to feel the prick of tiny wood chips in the flesh behind his nail beds. The larger part, however, knew malice would do no good for you. You had survived the pain. There was no reason to survive poison as well.

“No, I don’t,” you tried again, a little softer, a little less jagged around the edges. “I think she just likes to set them up for fun. This is my first time on one of these blind uh…” The word date sat heavy on the tip of your tongue but refused to budge. “One of these things.” Maybe another mouthful of wine would wash it down.

“Her definition of fun can be rather interesting,” he said, politely filling the silence.

You hummed in agreement, raising the freshly filled wine glass to your mouth again as you scrambled around in your head for something, anything to say. It had been a while since you had last been out on the dating scene, and you were well aware of it, but good grief, it was like your conversational skills had evaporated into thin air.

“How do you know Joy?” was what you decided on after a deliberately slow sip.

Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to still know how to carry a conversation. “She’s one of the HR reps for Digital, so we’ve spoken a few times before. And her boyfriend is a friend from university.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “Have you met him?”

You shook your head lightly. “No, not yet. Hoping to, soon.”

“You’ll like him. Doyoung’s a great guy. Patience of a saint.”

“He’d have to be to keep up with her,” you said, hints of a chuckle sprinkled in your voice.

Something about the fact that he was already privy to more of Joy’s personal life than you were had a sliver of jealousy wriggling in your stomach. She was supposed to be your friend, and yet you knew very little about Doyoung besides his name, while your ex-boyfriend across from you had been buddy-buddy with him for probably years and years. Not that it was a competition to see who held more information about their coworker outside the office, but the feeling that you were somewhat losing didn’t sit well.

“It’s actually my first time on a blind date as well,” he said, allowing himself a tentative smile. “You know how convincing she can be. I mean, I don’t think I’d ever go on one if she hadn’t roped me in. It feels a bit silly meeting up with a complete stranger, you know?” He turned his smile to you, still tentative but coloured with a tinge of hopefulness, like he wanted you to understand, like he knew you would.

How could you not? There had once been a time where you believed that you and Jaehyun had been two halves of the same soul, carved into existence from the same stone. There had once been a time where you knew him almost better than he knew himself.

A time rather distant from now.

You kept your answer non-committal. “Sure,” you murmured, wishing his pretty face wouldn’t fall so quickly at your nonchalance, wishing you hadn’t caught the slightest droop to the curve of his mouth. Everything about him was still too familiar. “I’m just a bit surprised to hear that, I guess. You were so desperate to meet new people back then.”

Three seconds passed in silence.

His eyes dropped to his lap, as did yours to your own. This previously reasonable bottle of merlot was loosening your lips rather unreasonably.

“Sorry, that was—” Unnecessary? Mean?

True?

“I didn’t mean to say that,” you finally managed, the words spilling out of your mouth in a tumbled rush.

Or maybe you had.

Jaehyun could only flash you a weak smile. “It’s fine,” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t really.

Frigidity returned to the air between you, stopped just short of freezing over by the reappearance of your waiter, along with a plate of goat’s cheese arancini. Jaehyun politely gestured for you to eat first, watching as you speared the crusty surface with your fork and moved it over to your own plate. For a few seconds, the only noises that could be heard from the table were the clinks and clanks of stainless steel utensils against ceramic plates. The arancini could not have come at a better time, affording both of you the opportunity to hide behind the guise of eating, and put off the need to make strained conversation, even if the time it bought you was fleeting.

Meet new people. Those were the exact words he had said to you all those years ago. Han River on a Tuesday night, cherry blossom petals fluttering through the balmy April air, the iciness of winter finally melting away into a distant memory to reveal fresh green carpets and vivid blooms — few things could have been more romantic. Spring is the season of love, they said.

But for you, spring was the season of loss. It was the season when love ended, when love could be taken back and snatched away in the blink of an eye. On a Tuesday night in April, you learned that your love was not just not enough, but that it was a burden, an obstacle between Jaehyun and living his life to the fullest. That time spent with you was time squandered. That you were robbing him of the complete university experience, and to an extent, his youth.

Jaehyun had always been a wanter. He wanted boldly and he wanted freely, never dwelling too long on how his wanting could appear in the eyes of others, never shy about his desires. When he was ten years old, he wanted a dog, despite the reddening of his nose and the watering of his eyes whenever he’d get within arm’s distance of the bichon frisé. In tenth grade, he wanted you, with cans of peach soda and sweet little notes in your locker until you finally said yes to being his girlfriend after three days of public pursuit.

(You had arguably wanted him more, and for longer, though nobody had been none the wiser — you were rather good at hiding your feelings.)

Two months into your first year at university, his wants changed. He wanted more space and more freedom to meet new people. He wanted to be able to attend club social outings, and get to know his seniors, and play drinking games with his new roommates, instead of trekking to the other side of Seoul every week to see you, his girlfriend, who had now become his obligation.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed a shift in his behaviour in the months leading up to that fateful night. Smiles had become a little wearier. Texts had become sparser. You had chalked it up to the challenges of settling into the new routine and rigorous coursework, and the distance between your schools that occupied opposite sides of the city. Sure, the hour-long subway ride from his campus to yours wasn’t the greatest asset to your relationship, but 18-year-old you had remained optimistic it would endure whatever curveballs your first year of university and the beginnings of real adulthood would throw at you.

You had survived the CSAT together and emerged in one piece. What else could be harder than that?

“You’re right though,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his own piece of fried goat’s cheese. “I guess I was.”

You let your fork drop with a soft clang. “Let’s not, uh—we don’t have to talk about that.” Pink petals were swimming at the edges of your vision.

Please, let’s not talk about that.

A flicker of something behind his eyes could almost convince you he wanted exactly the opposite of your unspoken plea. Maybe this was a conversation he didn’t actually want to avoid the way you so desperately did.

And maybe he would have said something too, if not for the waiter who returned at that precise moment.

“The mushroom ravioli,” the waiter announced, setting the plate down in front of you, “and the amatriciana spaghetti. Enjoy.”

Four pieces of pasta covered in sage butter looked back up at you.

You made a mental note to never order ravioli at an Italian restaurant ever again.

The sound of scraping utensils returned to your table, lightly blanketing the stilted pause in conversation with idle noise. Without much enthusiasm, you sliced at one of the four pieces of your ravioli, throwing what you hoped were sneaky glances at the full plate of spaghetti sitting in an appetising red sauce laid out before your ex-boyfriend.

“Do you want to try mine?”

Sneakiness had never been your forte.

Your polite refusal came quickly, even if it was rather weak to your own ears, but Jaehyun was already twirling a portion out onto the share plate the waiter had kindly provided a few minutes earlier. He made sure to scoop some sauce and pancetta bits on top as well, before gently pushing the plate towards you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, though you made no move to dig in.

Everything wasn’t supposed to feel this familiar. You weren’t supposed to soften so easily at the sight of his dimpled smile. You weren’t supposed to feel that strange tug in your chest at his thoughtfulness, at the way he could still pick up the slightest change in your expression. And maybe the bar was too low, and here you were fawning over nothing more than the bare minimum, because what guy would see his date enviously looking at his food instead of her own and blatantly ignore it?

But with Jaehyun, it was different. You knew it was. Within every action, there was familiarity and practice, there was thought and care, there were years of history that were unerasable, even with the passage of time. You weren’t the same wide-eyed teenagers now as you had been then, and yet scenes from the rest of that excruciating first semester flickered in your mind.

A silent breakdown during a business administration lecture. Your roommate’s concerned expression when you decided to skip dinner again.

The tug in your chest was leading you back into dangerous territory.

For the third time tonight, you debated grabbing your things and walking straight out. You had only promised Joy that you would stay until the mains came out. If you were going to leave now, technically, you would still have fulfilled your end of the promise. Arguably, this wasn’t the best time to make an exit — fifteen minutes earlier would have been much better so that the kitchen would have time to cancel your stupid ravioli before they started preparing it. Leaving now wouldn’t be the most optimal, but it was still an option. A tad heavy on the dramatics, but you could live with that. You’d just never be able to step foot in this establishment again.

A shame. The spaghetti looked good. You’d have to search up if this place did delivery.

“You can go if you really want to, I won’t hold it against you,” Jaehyun said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the fork he was twirling through his dish. You supposed you should’ve been surprised at the way he could read your mind without even looking at you, but you couldn’t find the energy in you to pretend.

“But,” he continued at your silence, “if you’re willing to stay, I’d really like it if we could just catch up?” At this, he finally met your eyes and offered a small smile. “It has been a while, after all.”

Maybe it was the sincerity contained in those soft brown eyes. Maybe it was because you really did want to try the amatriciana spaghetti while it was hot and fresh off the stove. Whatever it was, you found yourself resolving to stay, despite all the reasons not to, despite the sound of them loud and clear in your head, ready at your disposal. Allowing yourself to indulge in nostalgia once in a while couldn’t be that bad for you. Right?

So you stayed. And you ate (his spicy amatriciana scored a landslide victory over your mushroom ravioli). And you talked. As two friends would do, catching each other up on the things that had shaped your lives since you had gone on your separate ways.

Conversation was clunky at first, that was to be expected. Even the closest of friendships would encounter some choppy waters when reconnecting for the first time after five years. But conversation with Jaehyun gave way to smooth sailing much quicker than you would have expected. He still wore the face of the boy who would sneak an extra serving of fried sweet potato from the cafeteria because he knew you liked them, but he wasn’t quite the same. Older, certainly. Maturity wasn’t something that went hand-in-hand with age like you had thought when you were younger, but he was more mature too. Surer of himself, and his place in the world.

You heard of the summer he spent in the UK after graduation, visiting his uncle and their family, appreciating classical architecture and the leisure inherent to rolling green hills that he hadn’t been able to find in the metropolis he had grown up in. (The food, however, was an entirely different story. He had never been so overjoyed to see a bowl of rice that wasn’t covered in mushy peas or sitting in a puddle of questionable-looking curry.)

He learned of your semester exchange in Amsterdam, including the unfortunate incident involving you, a runaway bicycle, and the freezing water of the Dutch canals. Fortunately, a nasty cold and two weeks in bed over the Christmas break were the worst things that came of it. Those few months had been eye-opening, to say the least. Stepping outside of your own bubble had made you realise how much more there was to the world, and how little you knew of it.

Yes, Jaehyun had changed, but then again so had you. The realisation dawned halfway through dessert, slowly settling over you as you spooned at the tiramisu in the centre of the table. Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to him that you had been harbouring this seed of antagonism towards him for all these years. He, so afflicted by youth, as you both had been back then, was only doing what he thought was right and necessary. Could you really fault him for that? You had seen enough of life now to know that sometimes, nobody was to blame.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation before he spoke again. The sound of his voice drew you away from the window, where you could see that the rain had slowed from the earlier dramatic downpour to a lighter shower.

“I know I probably wasn’t who you were expecting today,” he said, a little hesitant and gauging your expression.

“You definitely were not.” You gave him an amused half-smile over the rim of your barely-filled glass, which he returned. The bottle of merlot sat tall and empty on the table.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, taking in a breath, “I’m glad it was you. It was really nice to see you again. And I’m sorry if you were disappointed that it was me.”

There was something sad in the curve of his mouth, you thought. It tempered the warmth in his eyes.

“I’m not disappointed,” you heard yourself say. “Really.”

It was the truth. You knew he could see it written across your face. Dishonesty and insincere flattery were not familiar weapons you wielded. He knew that. He knew you.

Jaehyun sat back, bringing his own glass to his lips and draining the lingering contents. Perhaps to hide the private smile that broke out across his handsome face, which you pretended not to see, turning your attention back to the raindrops pattering against the window.

The evening air was cool on your bare arms when you stepped out, taking shelter under the awning in front of the restaurant. You weren’t the only one who had forgone a weather app consultation today. Jaehyun stood beside you, hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his slacks, a not unwelcome companion while you waited for your taxi to arrive. He’d call one later, after he made sure you had gotten in the car and were on the way home.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” he asked, tone light.

You cast a sidelong glance at him. His profile was backlit by the warm light emanating from inside the restaurant, carving out the straight bridge of his nose, a soft shadow cupping the fullness of his bottom lip. Would there ever be a time the sight of him wouldn’t take your breath away?

“Maybe,” you breathed. Letting him back into your life wasn’t a decision you felt ready to make yet, and you had no intention of promising him anything you couldn’t be sure you’d be able to deliver. Even if you would only be promising him friendship.

He didn’t push it further and hummed in understanding. Then your taxi was pulling up in front of the restaurant, the splash from the tyres just missing the hem of your trousers, and you were bidding him goodbye, staring a second too long at the dimples that appeared, and trying not to step in a pothole puddle as you clambered rather ungracefully into the car.

But because realisation was never punctual, it was only when you arrived home, carefully kicking off the black pumps and patting them dry with a microfibre cloth, that you realised two things.

First, you had left your cardigan at the Italian restaurant.

And second, Jaehyun had footed the whole bill.

There was a reason the seventh floor was your favourite floor in the building.

It wasn’t because of the little in-office cafe with the cute but ridiculously overpriced pastries that tasted even better than they looked, or the deceptively comfortable bean bag chairs by the far window that would always tempt you with a mid-afternoon nap every time you sank into one of them.

No. The seventh floor was your favourite because it had a Nespresso machine. Free use. Company-funded.

A seventh floor coffee was one of the only things that could get you to leave the comfort of your desk and willingly walk up two flights of stairs. (The elevators always took too long.) On Monday afternoons like these, after an entire morning swimming through attendance and sick leave reports from the last quarter, the promise of a smooth and velvety cappuccino felt like your only hope for humanity. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like everybody else had the same idea, if the line in front of the coffee machine was anything to judge by.

“You should have told me!”

You gave Joy an incredulous look. “Right. Because I definitely knew exactly who he was.”

“Well, you could have worked it out. You’re a smart girl.”

“You said a total of three sentences about him.”

She paused, fixing you with a contemplative stare. Her eyebrows were doing that weird lifting thing when she was running something through her head. “Five sentences,” she finally managed, tapping around the rim of her empty mug.

Why she came up with you at all when she wasn’t a coffee person, would probably take two sips of the espresso, and then complain it was too bitter, was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered if she was really that good at her job, or if her workload was just so non-existent that she could take five coffee breaks a day. It couldn’t be the latter, because you had seen that her calendar was full for the entire morning.

“Let’s not spend the next fifteen minutes talking about last Friday,” you sighed, already pushing thoughts of dimpled smiles and warm eyes to the far corner of your mind. Hopefully not to be revisited for a while. “I want my head outrageously blank while I enjoy this cappuccino. Swear to god Junmyeon is trying to drown me with those leave reports.”

“You know he only assigns them to you because you’ve never told him you hate doing it.”

“He assigns them to me because I’m the only one available who can get it done properly. You’re always blocked out, and Jungwoo has that weekly coaching session. Jisung tried to help me do it this morning, and he didn’t even separate paid from unpaid leave. The numbers looked like we were bleeding PTO.”

She gave you a sly smile. “You know you can block yourself out too,” she said off-handedly.

“You can what?”

This was new information.

“You’re telling me someone else could be sifting through that 70-page file if I just schedule in a random meeting with myself?” you asked again, to which she nodded.

“Has yet to fail me. But make sure you name it something that makes sense, and don’t do it all the time, otherwise it’ll look suspicious.”

Corporate bullshitting was a fine art, and you were beginning to realise you were still but a novice at it.

“And lay off the intern,” she added. “He’s just a child.” “He’s taller than Junmyeon.”

“A child in spirit, then. You know what I mean. He sort of reminds me of a cute little mouse,” she mused, trailing off. If her apartment complex didn’t have a pet ban, you had a feeling she would be taking in every stray animal off the street.

However, she was right. Jisung had been a bigger help than you had expected of a second-year commerce student. Even if it was just skimming through a finished presentation pack to fix up any typos and align text boxes, you couldn’t deny that having an extra pair of eyes and hands had made your life a little bit easier. Maybe you would even miss him once his summer placement came to an end and the semester rolled back around. As long as there weren’t too many more incidents like the one from this morning.

Speaking of this morning…

“Hey, does that mean you’ve been making yourself unavailable so you don’t have to read the—”

“Oh look! The line’s getting shorter. You should move up before someone cuts in.”

You shuffled forward, but not without throwing her a displeased look along with a grumble or two. Next time the quarterly attendance analysis rolled around, you were definitely making use of the trick she had just told you about. A quick glance up ahead. There were now three people in front of you in the line, but only one green capsule left on the rack.

Please, caffeine gods be willing, let that last one be yours.

“I can’t believe I told you that I thought your ex-boyfriend was super fucking hot. I feel so icky, like I’ve betrayed you somehow,” Joy said, making a face. The dimpled smile fought its way back into your consciousness, and you suppressed the twist in your stomach that seemed to accompany every recollection of it.

“It’s honestly fine. There’s no way you could have known.” You shrugged, partly to reassure her it wasn’t a big deal, and partly to shake off that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The better part of your weekend had been spent trying to make sense of the night, after battling a merlot-induced migraine for most of Saturday morning and early afternoon. Three glasses had been a necessity to get through dinner, but it was ultimately overkill. You were no longer the girl from two years ago who took advantage of her afternoon class the next day by destroying a few soju bottles with your roommates. On a weeknight, too.

Joy gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Still, I’m sorry I put you through that. Hopefully it wasn’t completely awful?”

Completely awful, it was not. Awful at some parts? Maybe.

Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to see Jaehyun again. Not to say that you had never thought about it — you definitely had, running simulations through your head about how you would run into him on the street, ignore his greeting and walk past him like he didn’t even exist. But those were the musings of a heart-broken teenager, turning to spite and cheap endeavours at revenge to cope with the loss of her first love. Last Friday did have spite rearing its ugly head, but that spite was short-lived, and only one aspect that made up the whirlwind of emotions that came with seeing him again after all those years.

“No, it wasn’t all bad,” you were about to say, when your eye was suddenly caught by a movement up ahead.

A slender, veiny hand reached out to grab the last green pod from the coffee rack. You watched as the thief’s fingers closed around the capsule and slotted it into the machine. He pressed the lever down — because of course, it was a man. Not only was he on the better side of the gender wage gap, but he also had to be ahead of you in the caffeine race as well.

The sound of the capsule being punctured was the final blow.

“My coffee,” you lamented under your breath.

“Have some patience,” Joy chided. “We’re nearly there. You’re like a zombie when you don’t have your little cup of bean juice.”

You shook your head glumly. “The last Peruvian. I waited for so long. It was supposed to be mine, and he took it.”

“Who did?”

“The guy at the front.”

Your eyes were still glued on the hand as it wrapped around the mug filled with your favourite blend, completely unaware that it had just robbed you of the only small pocket of joy you had been looking forward to all afternoon. Peering around the two people still ahead, your gaze travelled up his exposed forearm and the sleeve of the white dress shirt cuffed there. If only you could catch a glimpse of the face that had stomped all over your hopes and dreams…

The lady in front of you shuffled closer to the coffee machine and finally cleared your line of sight. Coffee stealer’s ear came into view before his face did, and he was—

“Jaehyun?”

His name fell out of Joy’s mouth before you could even get your own to start working again and beg her not to call out to him. For a moment you were afraid you had conjured him out of thin air from the uninvited thoughts of him circling the outskirts of your mind. At least now you knew he wasn’t a hallucination.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows pinched in confusion first, then surprise, before finally smoothing over with recognition. He offered a small wave, eyes flitting from Joy over to you, and then he was walking over, and you were fighting for your life trying to mask the panic that was bubbling away inside your chest.

You shot Joy a frantic look. Why did you do that?

I don’t know! Sorry, said her returning one. The corners of her mouth were turned down in an apologetic frown, but she quickly schooled it into a smile at Jaehyun’s approach.

“I’ve never seen you on seven before,” Joy said, the spitting image of friendliness, nevermind that you were beside her and desperately looking for an exit out of the incoming conversation. “You’re always holed up somewhere on ten.”

You supposed you should have known this would happen sooner or later. Six months without running into each other when you worked at the same company, in the same building, was the exception, not the rule. You were just grateful Joy didn’t try to bring up her clever little dinner setup that had been plaguing you the entire weekend, or try and rope the two of you into awkward and unnecessary introductions.

“Someone told me I should come down and try the Nespresso machine. Apparently it’s really good,” he said, gesturing at the mug you had been staring at for the past three minutes.

“It is,” were the first two words you managed. Both pairs of eyes shifted towards you, waiting for the rest of your comment to come, but you could only disappoint, the syllables hanging thick and dumb in the air.

There appeared to be some sort of blockage in your mouth-to-brain pipeline.

Joy cleared her throat lightly, throwing you a sideways glance. “Which one did you try? They all taste the same to me, but she only drinks the green ones,” she said, ignoring the panicked twitch of your mouth. She knew full well that he was the one you’d been staring daggers into ever since he grabbed that stupid capsule. Your stupid capsule.

Jaehyun’s eyes flicked between your face and the steaming drink in his hand a few times.

“Do you want mine? I think I might have taken the last green one.” He offered the mug to you. “I didn’t really know what to press, so it’s just a cappuccino. Regular milk. I haven’t had any yet.”

“It’s fine, you should have yours. I’ll get another one,” you politely declined. No matter how much you liked the Peruvian blend, it was not worth the charity from your ex-boyfriend. Even if it was the only thing that could get you through the rest of the afternoon. Even if he was holding the exact thing that you had been planning on getting.

Hopefully the kitchen staff would restock those capsules by tomorrow.

The look he gave you was not a convinced one, but he didn’t push further. With your dismissal of his offer, the three of you lapsed into a sticky silence. Even Joy, who was so adept at making topics of conversation out of nothing, had little to add, passing up the challenge of pulling meaningful sentences out of your mouth. The stifling tension between you and Jaehyun must have been more powerful than you thought.

“Shoot, I think I’m getting a Teams call,” Joy suddenly said, making a show of pulling her phone out and tapping the screen.

Liar. She didn’t even have the app notifications turned on.

“I should probably take this, but I’ll see the both of you later.” She flashed a contrite smile, and then she was off, almost speed-walking her way down the stairs you had come up together, all the while pressing her phone to her ear with a little too much urgency for a mid-afternoon cold call. By the look on Jaehyun’s face, he hadn’t been all that impressed by her impromptu theatrics either.

“Are you still in the line?”

“Sorry, yes,” you muttered at the woman behind you. Clearly, you were not the only one impatient for their caffeine fix.

Finally, you were at the counter. You stared blankly at the rack of capsules. The empty space where the green ones were usually stored was glaringly obvious, jumping out at you while you skimmed through the other blends for a passable alternative. After many more seconds than would have been necessary to pick one flavour out of the remaining three, your fingers closed around a gold one. It would have to do for today.

Jaehyun watched as you dropped the capsule into its slot and made your selections. Why he was still here with you was somewhat of a mystery. You would’ve thought that Joy’s hasty exit would have prompted him to do the same, saving the both of you from having to make bumbling small talk about the weather, or the weekend, or whatever else that two people working at the same company, with no other relational history, could talk about to fill in the silence.

Maybe he wanted to talk about the dinner bill. The fact that he had settled it, without you even noticing, had been weighing on your mind. It was less of a money thing — though you were pretty sure the total hadn’t been a modest number — than a pride thing. Being indebted to others always left a smear on your conscience.

Being indebted to your ex-boyfriend was like someone had shit all over it.

Whatever. If he didn’t bring it up first, you would. This was the 21st century. You were both financially independent adults. Splitting the bill on a first date didn’t have to be such a contentious thing.

Although technically, it was far from your first. And it wasn’t a date either, because you had refused to label it as such in your head.

The last few drops of milk and espresso trickled into the mug, before the machine stopped whirring altogether. You knew he was still there. You could feel his presence behind you. He had probably been waiting for the noise to stop so that you’d be able to hear him speak. Taking your mug off the stand, you turned to face him.

“Your cardigan,” he said.

“Huh?”

Confusion splashed over you. You weren’t even wearing one today.

“I have your cardigan,” he amended. “From Friday. You left it inside the restaurant. One of the waiters brought it out, but you had left already, so I took it with me.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I have it now, if you want it back.”

“You do?”

“I mean, it’s at my desk. I brought it in today,” he added quickly, seeing the way you were looking about his person like you were expecting it to materialise into his hands.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the brain fog that had decided now was the perfect time to strike. “Yes, I—thank you, um, for that. I can take it off you…?”

Had you meant to have it sound so much like a question? It seemed like your capacity for human speech was always afflicted by some sort of malfunction in his presence.

“Okay, uh, do you want to come up to my desk? I’ve got it there.”

The elevator ride up to the tenth floor was a short one. You could have taken the stairs just to get the extra steps in, but with both of you holding uncovered drinks, three flights of stairs combined with your clumsy fingers were a slip hazard just waiting to happen. Still, despite the short journey, the seconds inside the elevator seemed to drag on for much longer.

Before you could lose your nerve, you opened your mouth to crack the silence.

“Let me pay you back for dinner.”

Good. It sounded good. Firm, but not overbearing. Hell yeah, you were getting the hang of this conversation-with-your-ex-boyfriend thing.

Jaehyun seemed a bit taken aback by that, turning to you slightly with surprise woven into the crease of his brow. “You really don’t need to do that,” he said after a beat.

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out through the sliding doors before you could form a coherent response. It took a second for you to follow, the coffee inside your mug almost making a dangerous appearance all over the elevator floor as you caught up with his strides.

“Think of it as me taking care of a junior colleague. I am your senior, you know,” he said over his shoulder, a smile gracing his features at the latter part.

“Only by half a year,” you grumbled. “That doesn’t even count.” The light shake of his broad shoulders let you know he had heard your gripes over his attempts at enforcing seniority. His accompanying laugh was a soft one. You barely caught it above the noise of the tenth floor office.

The mellowed cosiness of the fifth floor HR department was hard to be found here. You were used to some chatter, with the occasional high-pitched laugh from Joy punctuating the air. On days he was feeling particularly jovial, Junmyeon could be heard humming from whichever desk he had decided to park at for the day (such was the beauty of hot-desking and hotelling). The few occasions you shared a table with him had allowed you to recognise the melody of The Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever — always the same song, and he hummed everything except for the words ‘strawberry fields’, which he insisted on singing, albeit softly.

Nothing about Digital was soft or cosy. Except maybe the sofa in one of the open creative spaces. The floor buzzed with activity, from the influx of incoming call ringtones to agenda-packed meetings in conference rooms. A group of people were clustered around a floor-to-ceiling whiteboard covered in diagrams that were undecipherable to you, engaged in animated conversation while pointing at various parts of the board. Some of them greeted Jaehyun as he walked past with you in tow.

“I had no idea Digital was this busy,” you mused out loud, following him as he weaved through the desks.

He chuckled lightly. “We like to talk a lot. And some of us can get a bit loud,” he said. The joking undercurrent to his voice had you thinking that the second part was said with someone in mind. “But it’s more hectic than usual. We’ve just won a really big bid and Johnny’s excited about his first time leading one of the streams.” He paused to wave and give a thumbs-up at the man standing at the very front of the whiteboard group (you assumed this was Johnny), who returned the greetings with just as much enthusiasm.

Jaehyun had always been a people person. That was one thing that would likely never change.

The two of you arrived at his desk, a quieter one next to the windows offering an almost unobstructed view of the city. He dug around his workspace, pulling out a Jo Malone gift bag.

“Ignore the bag,” he said, catching your wary expression. “I didn’t want to stuff it in my duffel with the rest of my gym stuff.”

You took it from his outstretched hand, with a quick glance to check that it was in fact your cardigan. The ribbed black fabric sat inside, folded neatly over itself.

“It got rained on quite a bit, so I washed it. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course, that’s kind of you, Jaehyun. You didn’t have to.” For a moment, you wondered if he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. The smell of it used to cling to his school uniform, a burst of freshness you always sought during the muggy summer days.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a grateful smile. “I thought I lost it for good.” In your mind, you had already made peace with the fact that you would probably see the thing ever again. Yet all weekend, it had been taking up space in Jaehyun’s hamper, uncertain as to when it would finally be able to reunite with your closet.

You gave him a careful look.

“Did you plan on seeing me today?” you asked.

“No. Yes. I mean—” The tips of his ears took on the faintest hint of a pink flush. “I didn’t know if I would run into you, so I’m glad I did. But otherwise, I was just going to give it to Joy and get her to pass it along to you,” he trailed off, gaze shifting sideways to the cityscape posted on the other side of the glass windows.

Neither of you had bothered with exchanging contact details after dinner, an oversight that was more deliberate than not on your part. His re-entry into your life was something you hadn’t felt quite ready for. And yet—

“Do you want my number?”

Stupid mouth. The words were out before you even registered that you had spoken. You prayed he wouldn’t pick up on the unintended suggestion of the question, though judging by the quick raise of his left eyebrow, you weren’t the only one who realised the other possible interpretations of your words.

“I mean, just in case something like this happens again. So you can contact me directly,” you added quickly. Heat slowly crept its way up to your cheeks. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Sure,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

Considering you were the one who had said it out loud in the first place, it would have been strange if you suddenly decided it was not okay with you.

There was some fumbling with each other’s phones, before you were typing your number to add into his contacts, and he was doing the same to yours. Would he realise yours was still the same string of digits as it had been five years ago?

“Well, I’d better get going,” you said, handing back his phone. Now was as good a time to make an easy exit as any. You had planned on gossiping with Joy in the level seven kitchen for the rest of the hour, but back to your desk appeared to be the more likely destination this afternoon. 70-page files didn’t read themselves. “Thanks for the cardigan. I’ll see you later, then?”

Jaehyun looked like he had more to say, but you were already turning around, ready to leave the hubbub of the tenth floor. Ready to leave the presence of your ex-boyfriend-turned-friend? Acquaintance? You shook your head lightly. A drink was needed to unpack that box of worms.

A call of your name had you pausing mid-step.

“Your coffee,” Jaehyun said, tapping you on the shoulder to hand you your mug.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from his grasp. You hadn’t even bothered to take a sip of the non-Peruvian cappuccino, the surface still untouched. It was probably cold now. Maybe you’d pass it off to Jungwoo, this time sans the salt.

“You know, if the dinner bill thing bothers you that much, you can just make it up to me later.”

You blinked at him a few times. “Make it up to you how?”

“Ah, that’s for me to decide,” he replied, a boyish glint to his smiling eyes. Both his dimples popped out, and you found yourself unable to choose which one to focus on.

Then he was moving, and you were left staring at the broad expanse of his back as he walked away. Head full of thoughts wondering what the hell kind of favour he would now hold over your head, you almost walked straight into Jungwoo as you came out of the elevator.

“Hey, I got a Nespresso from seven. You want it?” you asked, offering him the coffee you stopped yourself from spilling all over him. He eyed the mug apprehensively.

“You put salt in it again, didn’t you?”

“No? Where did you even get that from? Hang on, how do you know it was me?”

Jungwoo sucked in a breath through his teeth. “So it was you! I knew it! You know, you really are a scary woman,” he grumbled. “Who ever would have thought an evil spirit lurked behind such a kind face?”

“So that’s a no to the coffee?”

“I don’t trust you anymore, so no.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrugged, making your way back to your desk. The attendance reports stared back at you as you logged into the monitor, drawing a sigh out of you. You took a sip of the coffee.

And frowned.

You brought the mug to your mouth again. Like the first sip, the second was also lukewarm. But like the first sip, the second also tasted exactly the same as your usual Peruvian blend. Maybe there really was no difference between all the different coloured capsules, you thought, skimming through page 33 of the file.

That thing about realisation never being on time? Still true.

On the subway ride home, gripping the handle with all your might while sandwiched between two middle-aged men in stuffy suits, it dawned on you.

Jaehyun had given you his coffee instead.

“Thanks everyone for dialling in today. We’ll chat soon.”

The screen reverted back to its default background as the call ended, and you let out a sound somewhere in between a groan and a whimper. Junmyeon did not look to be faring any better, head in his hands while his elbows rested on the meeting room table.

“Can somebody please tell Jackson and the rest of the Marketing heads that Summer Fridays doesn’t mean they can just take Fridays completely off?” he groaned, the sounds escaping through the gaps in his fingers. “Our absenteeism looks like it’s at an all time high. Nayeon, you’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”

The girl pressed at her temples. “I mean, we were in the same advertising and PR club back in university, if that counts for anything. But yeah, I’ll schedule some time with him and go over it.”

“Great, thank you,” Junmyeon sighed, throwing his head back. “Alright, I’ll send around a debrief email later this afternoon. Thanks everyone for your time.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. A second later and you were out of the eighth floor Marketing meeting room, already on your way to the Nespresso machine downstairs. Another coffee at 4pm was slightly pushing it, but you needed a pick-me-up urgently to wash away the gruelling two hours spent going through company policy with Marketing.

The buzz of your phone was a momentary distraction from your mission.

It was a message from Jaehyun. Something silly in response to a text you had sent earlier in the day.

jaehyun [04:07 pm]: in dire need of a fake mango right now jaehyun [04:07 pm]: mmm fake mango milkshake

The smile that crept up onto your face was almost like a reflex in the way it couldn’t be helped.

Now that you were acquainted again, it was like you saw him everywhere. How you had managed to completely avoid each other for the last half a year or so was a fascinating mystery. Some mornings you’d run into him in the building lobby. He’d hold the elevator doors open for you, and you’d exchange pleasantries on the ride up to the fifth floor, where you’d get off and bid him goodbye, or see you later. And see him later you did. Whether it was at the seventh floor coffee machine, or in line at the cafeteria on twelve, the sight of his face had become a nice interruption to the hours spent at a monitor, or in a call like the one you had just escaped.

He would come down to the fifth floor sometimes, stopping by Joy’s desk or yours to say hello and have a chat if you weren’t busy. You found yourself wishing he would spend less time with Joy than he did with you — not because you wanted to see him more (because that was absolutely not the reason at all), but because he was steadily gaining a lead over you in the Joy friendship competition. The three of you had spent a few lunch breaks at the cafeteria together, granted that your schedules matched, with an odd appearance from Jungwoo every now and again.

You saw more of Johnny (loud) and Mark (louder), Jaehyun’s friends from Digital who you’d normally hear before you’d see them. Johnny was his “beloved coffee mate” (Jaehyun’s exact words) and possibly the only other person in the building who cared about the green Peruvian capsules as much as you did. Mark was… Mark, for lack of a better description. There was nobody the boy couldn’t strike a conversation with. If he really needed to, you suspected he could probably get along with a wet paper towel.

You had been offered an invitation to join the three of them for one of their weekly lunches outside the company building. Johnny was more than happy to let you know he was somewhat of an expert at finding the hottest eats in the area, having put half his floor onto the cold noodle place he had sought out at the start of the month. And laugh as you had when he proudly told you about it, Johnny’s influence was no joke. News of the restaurant had somehow trickled its way down to HR, with Junmyeon just the other day asking around the team if anyone had tried the place before.

Perhaps you’d join them next week. It was always nice to be ahead of the trend.

You arrived at the seventh floor kitchen and sighed. The rack was out of green capsules again. Although, maybe that was to be expected. It was nearing the end of the day, and the gold capsules were finished too. So much for a 4pm pick-me-up, you thought, though it might have been for the better — too much caffeine in one day always made you a bit antsy and had your resting heart rate up in the high 80s.

With empty hands and a pout on your lips, you made your way back to the fifth floor.

Joy’s eyes were glued to her screen when you walked past her. “Jaehyun stopped by while you were in that Marketing call,” she said without looking at you, squinting at a spreadsheet.

“Did he?” you replied, trying your best at nonchalance despite the little flip of your stomach.

“Are you talking about her handsome friend from Digital?” Jungwoo peered around the table with a playful grin on his face.

You were back on good terms now, thanks to your promise to pay for his lunch from the cafeteria for a whole week to make up for the coffee incident. The look in his eyes right now had you thinking life was better that week where he had been afraid of you.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Joy said distractedly in between clicks of her keyboard. “Jisung, can you just double check these numbers for me? I’m in the second tab of the Excel file.”

The intern was quick to comply. You had a feeling she was his favourite senior.

“Anyways, I think he left you something.”

You made your way over to your desk, ignoring Jungwoo’s oohs and ahs. Sure enough, there was something sitting next to your diary and the three empty glasses you hadn’t had the chance to rinse out yet.

It was a coffee capsule. Specifically, it was a green coffee capsule.

There was a sticky note stuck to the back of it, which you turned around to read. His handwriting was still identical to that of the silly little notes he used to leave in the margins of your home economics workbook.

saved this last one from johnny’s clutches. enjoy ^.^

Despite the jitters from the end-of-day caffeine fix, you smiled the whole way home.

“I’ve found a way you can make it up to me.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the screen. 9:34 am. The Saturday morning still had you in its clutches, and it took a few seconds to process the sounds you were hearing.

“Who is this?” you croaked, sleep lacing your voice.

“It’s Jaehyun.”

You sat up a little straighter against the pillows. “Jaehyun?” you echoed.

“Yes, it’s me. Do you not check the caller ID before you answer?”

You grumbled something about it being too early on the weekend to have your head screwed on properly, to which he laughed, a vivid sound even through the phone.

“Do you have plans later today?”

You hesitated. Technically, no, unless a hot date with Netflix and whatever leftover snacks you could find in your pantry counted as plans. You were due for a grocery trip soon. The three eggs and single sprig of spring onion in your fridge would not last for long. Cooking had never been something you enjoyed, especially not after a full work day, and yet living alone required so much of it. You didn’t want to make up a non-existent dinner reservation, partly because you knew he’d be able to tell the untruth just by listening to your voice, and partly because something unpleasant niggled at your insides at the thought of lying just to avoid him.

“Why, what’s up?” you asked instead.

“Well, you know that jazz festival?” You gave an affirmative hum. “I have tickets for today. Mark and I were supposed to go together, but he just called me saying he can’t make it. Something about a leak in his apartment from all the rain. So…”

You stifled a yawn. “So?” Your brain was still trying to catch up with the land of the awake and living.

“Come with me?”

The words took a while and a few blinks to register. When they did, your first instinct was to say no. Jaehyun was fine in small doses. A quick chat over coffee, sporadic texts throughout the day, conversation within the safety of a group setting — these were all fine. Manageable. Nice, even. But Jaehyun in the flesh, outside of the office, with nobody else around to buffer the strange sort of tension that seemed to always thrum between the two of you — that was an entirely different ball game altogether. Sometimes, a mere run-in was enough to have your heart going a little faster than usual, nerves lighting up at the unexpected sight of his face.

“I am not above begging. Please don’t make me go to this thing by myself.”

And yet, there was a flicker of something pleasant and sweet, something akin to excitement that curbed the nervous flutter in your gut. You were fifteen again, waiting outside the movie theatre, a little too giddy at the thought of spending time with the boy whose sweet smile had become the cause of your stomach somersaults. And that was before you had even admitted to yourself that you liked him, as more than a friend.

“What time is it?” you found yourself asking.

So maybe you were seriously considering it. You had been meaning to put that new film camera to use. The thing had been collecting dust in one of your drawers ever since you bought it on a whim one night scrolling through Pinterest. Somehow, the rows of tables and monitors in the office didn’t seem like the most interesting camera subjects compared to the scenes of concerts and beach bonfires that had driven your impulsive purchase.

“Well, the doors open at 11, but the first performer is at 12. And Lauv’s set isn’t until later in the evening.”

“Lauv is performing?” Your voice had gone up almost an octave, but you couldn’t care enough to be embarrassed. This was a crucial piece of information. Now you had to be there.

He laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s a yes.” The covers were flipped off your legs in an instant.

It wasn’t that Jaehyun looked bad in slacks and a dress shirt. That was not the case at all. But you had grown used to them on him over the last few weeks, and the sight of his long legs in a pair of well-fitting trousers no longer caused a spike in your heart rate.

Jaehyun in casual clothes outside the office was uncharted territory.

The midday sun was strong outside the subway station. Clad in a black graphic tee over a pair of baggy green cargos, Jaehyun stood idly at the entrance, face hidden by the brown baseball cap on his head and eyes trained on his phone. How someone could look so gorgeous in something so ordinary was a secret only he knew the truth of. He caught sight of you from across the road, waiting for the pedestrian light, and raised his hand in a wave.

“It’s different seeing you out of your work clothes,” he said.

“Different good or different bad?”

A soft smile grazed his lips. “Just different. You look younger.”

“So do you,” you replied.

You look like the boy I was in love with all those years ago.

“Did you taxi?”

“No, I took the bus. There’s one that goes straight from my building. I didn’t know you lived around here,” you mused to yourself.

“My place is really close.” He pointed somewhere behind him. “Five minutes that way, tops. You should come over sometime.”

A slight pause. Jaehyun’s eyes flitted down to the pavement. You weren’t sure if the heat in your cheeks was from the sun or something else entirely.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably go. It takes 40 minutes to get there, so if we leave now we should be able to catch the 1pm.”

The subway on the weekend was nowhere near as awful as it usually was during the weekday rush hours, but packed nonetheless. You definitely preferred being stuck in a carriage full of bright-eyed and chattering teenagers than the usual crowd of solemn-faced office workers. When a seat finally freed up, Jaehyun was quick to offer it to you, manoeuvring himself so that he could stand in front of you as you sat down. Toe to toe, the tips of his shoes grazed yours, and you were suddenly reminded of study periods at the library. The two of you could never agree on who first started the game of footsie under the desk.

“See those girls over there?” you asked quietly, nodding towards a group of likely high schoolers down the other end of the carriage. Jaehyun turned his head to follow your gaze, catching sight of the girls who immediately erupted in whispers and giggles upon making eye contact with him. “They’ve been staring at you for the last two stops.”

He was quick to turn back towards you, nose scrunching and slightly embarrassed. “Kids these days are so weird,” he said with a soft groan. “Why are they doing that?”

“You know they’re only staring because you’re handsome.”

Despite the pinkness of his ears, he was smiling wide. “You think I’m handsome?”

You blinked up at him. “I didn’t say that.” Did I? “I meant they probably think you’re handsome. Which is why they’re staring. You know. It’s nice to look at good-looking people.”

The rushed explanations did nothing to shake the feeling that you had slipped-up somehow, and he had caught it. Jaehyun’s dimples only deepened at your backtracking.

“You know what I mean,” you finally huffed, biting back a smile at the deep sound of his responding laugh. “Whatever. I think this is our stop.”

The festival couldn’t have picked a better day to be held. The skies were clear and blue, and the air carried a light breeze that provided a welcome relief from the heavy stickiness of midsummer. It was a nice change from the sporadic rainstorms that had plagued the city over the last two weeks or so. Mark’s leaking apartment was proof of the temperamental weather. If you had one bone to pick, the sun was a tad strong, but that was to be expected. You had come prepared, tugging the bucket hat down further to cover your face.

Alaina Castillo’s set was well underway by the time you and Jaehyun made your way into the venue grounds. A decent amount of people had already arrived, trickling in to fill up the gated area in front of the main stage. The two of you filed in with the rest, finding a place towards the back of the growing crowd where there was ample room to breathe without inhaling someone else’s breath.

You had never been one for being stuck in a swarm of people. A harsh reminder of why that was the case appeared when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s elbow dug into your arm, knocking you sideways in their determined path towards the barricade.

The steadying hand around your shoulder was instantaneous.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked, and you mumbled something affirmative in reply, trying not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin on your bare arm. His eyes followed the stranger who was still pushing on through the crowd in front. “People really need to watch where they’re going,” he muttered, brows drawn together in a frown.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded more smoothly. It was a little unsettling how normal and nice everything felt. Jaehyun kept close to you for the sets that followed, the distance between the two of you gradually shrinking as the crowd grew in size. The occasional brush of your forearms as you moved to the music was no longer something to jump at like you had the first time it had happened. You managed to snap a few pictures on your almost-new film camera, mostly of the artist performing, but there was one of you in there somewhere amidst the stage shots, taken by an insistent and smiley Jaehyun during one of the set breaks.

“So this is why you wanted someone to come with you,” you said, sliding onto the bench and passing him one of the burgers from the food truck.

“It’s so much more efficient when you can line up for two things at once. If I was by myself, I’d either wait for the beer and let my burger get soggy, or wait for the burger and let my beer get warm and flat. This way the food is fresh, and our drinks are ice cold out of the fridge.”

You cracked a smile. “And here I thought you called me because you enjoyed my company.”

“I do enjoy your company,” he said without missing a beat. “The other stuff is just an added plus.”

You took a sip of the cold beer, hoping it would stave off the quick flush of your cheeks. Jaehyun said things so easily. Too easily. It was harder and harder to adhere to that invisible boundary you had been so adamant on protecting.

Why were you so reluctant to let him back in? Why all the walls? He made it too easy for thoughts like that to creep in and loiter in the back of your mind.

Evening had begun to settle, the brightness of the midday sky fading away to a twinkling twilight blue over your heads. The music was quieter at the picnic tables by the tents, where festival-goers sought respite from the main stage crowds with a cold beverage and something greasy. Between mouthfuls of an early makeshift dinner, you and Jaehyun sat in your own bubble, comfortably falling into conversation about the performances throughout the day, or whatever else happened to be on your minds.

“Your mouth opens so wide,” you said, watching as he all but inhaled half the burger in one go. His nose scrunched up as he tried to take the massive bite, and the sight of it was such a far cry from his usual cool guy image that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snap a picture of it. The click of the shutter had him looking up at you mid-chew with a dismayed expression.

“That’s not fair. You attacked when I wasn’t ready!”

“I’d hardly call that an attack,” you said, not without a smile. “I was just getting a candid.”

He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “Okay, my turn then,” he said, gesturing for you to hand the camera over. You obliged, letting him point the lens at you and fiddle with the knobs along the top. His slender fingers navigated the controls with a practised ease.

“Relax,” he added softly, noticing your fidgeting. Twenty-something years, and you had made little progress in mastering the art of posing for photos. “Pretend the camera’s not here, and it’s just you and me.”

Right. Like that was supposed to make you loosen up.

“I actually used to be really into photography. Got pretty good at it too,” he said.

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Picked it up in uni,” he explained. “Had all this free time on my hands and didn’t know what to do with it. Besides drinking.” A pause. “Honestly, first year second semester was pretty rough after… you know.”

The last part caught you somewhat off-guard. After that fateful April night, you had always assumed Jaehyun was off living his best life, blowing through society events with the new friends he had made, maybe even letting a few of them warm his bed now that you weren’t around. It wouldn’t have been the biggest surprise. Even at nineteen, Jaehyun’s good looks were uncontested. His sweet and attentive personality was the cherry on top of an already delectable cake. Whatever he got up to when the sun set, you were none the wiser, having completely wiped his existence from your phone by the time your first semester exam period rolled around.

Though you didn’t go as far as to block his number, he never reached out, and so Jeong Jaehyun became a relic of the past, embracing his newfound freedom now that he had shed himself of you, his unwanted baggage.

Or so you thought.

“But yeah,” he continued, “I started getting into photography. Burnt a hole in my wallet trying out a bunch of different cameras,” he said with a chuckle. “I liked film the most though, I think. It’s the only one I still use now.”

“What do you like about it?”

He took a moment, pausing in thought. “The colours, mostly. How it’s a bit muted, it has that vintage feeling.” You hummed in agreement. “Selfies on a film camera are fun as well.”

“You must really like looking at yourself,” you teased, enjoying the sight of his ears flushing with colour from where they poked out above the camera.

“Not like that,” he said in reply to the raise of your eyebrows. “It’s more like… when you take a selfie on film, you can’t see yourself, right? Whether the focus is focusing, or if the angle is right.

“Or if your whole face is actually in the shot, not just your right eye.”

“Exactly. But then taking the picture anyway. That’s what I like.” He pulled away from the camera to flash you a small smile. “Isn’t it funny, the way we try so hard to capture moments of time?”

Jaehyun’s attention returned to the viewfinder, leaving you to quietly dwell on his words. How else could one keep a piece of time stored away if not through photos? And yet, photography would never be able to capture the entirety of a moment the way a memory could. The sound of the band’s bass guitar from the side stage in the adjacent garden. The smell of summer carried by the evening breeze as it ruffled through his hair.

The warm feeling in your chest as you sat across from him at this wooden picnic bench, surrounded by people, sharing wistful conversation and a basket of fries.

The feeling of coming home.

The shutter clicked.

“Got it. That last one is going to turn out so nice.” Jaehyun smiled triumphantly, cheeks dimpling. “If you make this your profile picture you have to add the ‘photo by’. I need my credits.”

You blinked away the precarious thoughts. “Alright, mister photographer man, give it back now. Don’t use up all my film before Lauv.”

He handed the camera back to you, looking very pleased with himself. The light from the nearby tents cast a dusky glow over his face. Jaehyun from Digital was sharp and polished. The Jaehyun before you now, with his hair dishevelled from taking off the cap earlier, was softer, more open, and more subtle in the way he had slipped under your defences and picked the locks chained around your heart.

The question now was whether you’d let him in further than you already had.

He tugged at his collar. “God, it’s still muggy at night, isn’t it?”

“You stay here, I’ll get us some more beers,” you said, already standing up.

If anything, you were grateful for the errand, a welcome distraction from the tumultuous battle between your heart and your head that always forged on at any thought of him. The line for the bar was no shorter than it had been half an hour ago, to nobody’s surprise (this was a festival in Seoul, of course the queues would be severe) and it was a while before the two cold plastic cups were in your hands.

The short time away from him had given you the space to steer your mindset back onto the charted platonic course. A little voice in the back of your mind objected, and was making a damn convincing argument about why you should be more inclined to go beyond plain friendship with Jaehyun, but you chose to ignore it, suppressing the nagging with a deep breath and a smile that you hoped looked less conflicted than how you felt. Beers in hand, you carefully made your way back to the picnic table — only to be met with a rather interesting sight.

Jaehyun was still where you had left him, thankfully. But the two girls that now stood around him were a new addition.

“Hey,” you greeted, tapping him on the shoulder to pass him one of the beers. The taller girl visibly deflated when he flashed you a grateful smile, taking the plastic cup from your hand. The shorter one, however, ran her eyes up and down your figure with an almost calculating gaze.

“Is this your friend?” the shorter one asked, question directed at Jaehyun.

“Uh, yeah, um—hi,” you answered very eloquently, introducing yourself. You tossed a glance between Jaehyun and the two girls. “Do you um—are you guys friends?”

“Well, no, not really. Minjeong and Jimin just came—”

“We were actually going to ask if you guys wanted to join us up closer to the main stage?” the shorter one (Minjeong perhaps?) asked, flashing a sweet smile you suspected was more for Jaehyun’s benefit than yours. “We have a blanket and a few chairs set up, so you can sit and watch the closing set. It’s much more comfortable than standing inside the barricade.”

“Jaehyun looked a little lonely by himself,” the taller one added.

Lonely because you left him for ten minutes to go get some cold drinks? These girls were unbelievable.

“What do you say? Want to join us?”

Maybe you should’ve taken the group of highschoolers on the subway earlier more seriously as a forewarning. Not that you had any say in what Jaehyun could and could not do — he was his own person, and the closest thing you had to a claim on him had disintegrated years ago. If he wanted to go hang out with pretty strangers, he could go and do exactly that, and you didn’t have to follow him either. The invitation had clearly been meant for him more than it had been for you.

So what if you had been looking forward to enjoying the last set together? You were a big girl. You could brave the main stage crowds by yourself if you had to.

Jaehyun glanced at you, searching your eyes while you tried your best to keep your face neutral and devoid of the uneasy thoughts bubbling away beneath your skin. He was his own person. He could make his own choices.

After a second or two, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and turned back to the two expectant girls with a polite smile. “We’ll take our chances with the pit,” he answered. “But thank you for the offer. That’s kind of you guys.”

The two girls made their exit shortly afterwards, but not without a final look at him, and a decidedly less enthusiastic one at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you sipping on your beers without a word, waiting for the other to speak.

“You could have gone with them if you wanted to,” you finally mumbled, eyes fixed on the contents of your cup.

To your surprise, Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty sure Minjeong had an engagement ring on her finger.”

“Oh, what?”

You definitely had not noticed, too occupied by the saccharine looks she was throwing his way.

“Yeah. It was a pretty big diamond too. I think she must have forgotten to take it off today.”

You turned to look at him then. Jaehyun already had his eyes on you, sporting a lazy grin. “Come on, you can’t think I’m the type to mess around with married women?”

“That’s not what I—I didn’t know—”

“Don’t worry,” he interjected. “You’re still cute when you’re jealous.”

The quick heat rising to your face dispelled any of the remaining nonchalance in your expression. “I wasn’t—I’m not jealous,” you spluttered. “I was just worried—I mean, not worried,” you paused, sighing. “I thought you’d leave me.”

His eyes sought out yours, keeping them captive once they grabbed a hold.

“I wouldn’t leave you.”

The teasing brevity to his voice had disappeared. Somehow, you had the feeling he wasn’t simply talking about the jazz festival. The sincerity in his gaze made it hard to look away, but you had to, in the name of self preservation. Too long staring into those brown eyes was an unnecessary test of the upper limits of your heart rate.

“Maybe she came with her husband. He could be up there on that picnic mat, waiting for her.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “Trust me, if her husband was here, she would not have been looking at me like that.”

To their credit though, finding a spot to watch the main stage proved to be rather difficult now that everyone had arrived to catch the final act. For a moment you considered leaving the pit to take the two girls up on their offer. But with Jaehyun by your side, you were able to navigate the crowds with a bit more peace of mind, his presence a solid and comforting anchor within the sea of people. A few rogue pushes here and there had you stumbling — and perhaps the two beers on a rather empty stomach were coming on faster than you had expected — but he was there, steadying you with a gentle hand around your arm, or the light press of his firm chest against your back.

And maybe you leaned into him for longer than necessary to regain your balance, but was that really a crime? To enjoy the touch of a friend? Was it a crime for warmth to pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him swaying along to Lauv’s Enemies?

No, the little voice in your head denied forcefully. Jaehyun grooving to the music had always been one of your weaknesses.

As the closing chords of Paris in the Rain sounded out across the venue, you pulled out your film camera.

“Walking down an empty street.”

A gentle nudge of Jaehyun’s shoulder had him turning towards you, nose scrunched in a happy half-laugh from watching the performance. You moved to face the back of the crowd and raised the camera high, pointing it towards the two of you.

Was the stage in the shot? Was Lauv?

Were you?

“Puddles underneath our feet.”

Call it courage, or liquid courage, or just plain recklessness on your part. Rising up on your tiptoes, you pressed your cheek to his, and clicked the shutter button.

The final chord of the song struck, softly, like an afterthought, and the crowd burst into appreciative hoots and applause, marking the end of the performance.

You were beaming as you turned back towards him. “Do you think I got that one?”

Jaehyun simply stared at you, lips parted and turned up slightly at the corners. He looked more caught off-guard than he had when you had told him you thought all the Cigarettes After Sex songs sounded the same. You felt the glowing smile on your face slip, little by little, as you let his eyes roam your features, gaze indecipherable. They flitted to your lips, and for a second you were sure you stopped breathing.

Just do it! Just fucking do it! screamed that little voice in the back of your mind.

And perhaps you would’ve done it too, whatever it was, if it weren’t for the shove from behind that sent you almost face-planting into his chest.

“What the hell?” you yelped, whipping your head around.

What was with the people here today? You never thought jazz lovers could be so aggressive and insensitive to others’ personal space. Trying to find the perpetrator was a futile task, since the crowd had started to disperse following the end of the performance, moving in all directions.

Jaehyun looked over you with concern, the earlier expression on his face now gone.

“Come on,” he finally said, fingers gently circling around your wrist. “Let’s get out of here before we get trampled by the crowd.”

Overhead, the blue-black sky that had been so cooperative for the whole day emitted a low rumble, as if to emphasise Jaehyun’s words. Sure enough, by the time the two of you arrived at the station, it had started to sprinkle. Perhaps the clouds had been holding back the rain until the very end of the festival. How considerate of them, you thought.

The ride back into the city felt shorter than the one to the venue, though it couldn’t have been. Saturday nights were even busier than the weekday rush hour, with people young and old out and about, ready to tame the weekend with sheer determination and a bottle of soju in the stomach. This time, there were no free seats in your carriage, but you didn’t mind. Standing with Jaehyun, your heads pressed together to go through the videos in his camera roll, made the time pass faster. There was something to his photos, you decided. Something in the angle, or the light, or the composition, that made them look nicer than the ones on your phone. Maybe you ought to take a photography course too.

The clouds may have been considerate enough for the festival to hold off dumping their contents during the day, but they certainly were not for the two of you tonight. Standing under cover at the subway station exit, you watched as the torrential deluge only seemed to worsen. Thunder cracked angrily through the air. It wasn’t July without the threat of flash flooding.

“Any drivers around?” Jaehyun asked.

You gave a sad shake of your head. “Nobody’s picking up my request. Must be because of the rain,” you muttered. Overhead, the sky split open with a strike of lightning, startling you, and you jumped back a bit, further into the covered area of the exit.

“How about the bus?”

“I think I just missed one,” you answered, checking the timetable on your phone. “It says the next isn’t for another twenty minutes. But with the rain, it might be delayed even longer.”

You flicked through the taxi app, then the bus timetable app, and then finally back to the weather app, which you always seemed to forget to check on days like this. Three consecutive 100% signs stared back at you, and you let out a sigh. The sky would not be clearing up anytime soon.

“My apartment is only two streets down, if you want somewhere to wait out the rain,” he said.

You looked up at him. The smile on his face was guileless, but at the same time, there was something guarded about it, like he was expecting your rejection. Perhaps you had studied his face for too long, because then he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and averting his eyes to the ground.

“Or you don’t have to, we could just—”

“Okay,” you said.

His head shot back up. “Okay?”

You shrugged, a smile finding its way to your lips. “I’d rather not be soaking wet on the bus.”

“Okay,” he repeated, corners of his mouth turning upwards to mirror yours. “To my place, then.”

The usual five minute walk to Jaehyun’s apartment from the subway station turned into a two-and-a-half minute mad dash under the downpour. Despite your attempts at keeping to storefront shelters and ducking under the cover of big trees, the short trip had ended up with the both of you drenched to the bone, teeth chattering as you dripped rainwater all over his lobby.

You said a silent apology to the building cleaners.

It was a relief to be dry again. Jaehyun’s sweats swamped you, the French terry fabric pooling around your feet as you sat on the couch in his living room. The top was no better, reaching almost to your knees, with the sleeves completely covering your fingertips. His clothes weren’t always this big on you. At least he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent.

The sound of the running shower blended smoothly with the raindrops pelting violently against the balcony window. You wrung your hands, unsure of what to do while you waited for him to come out of the bathroom. It was easy to feel out of place in a home foreign to you. The sleek furniture and minimalist colour palette of the apartment looked nothing like Jaehyun’s childhood bedroom.

Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to come to his place. While you were pretty sure he hadn’t invited you up with any ulterior motives in mind, there was still something ambiguous about being in your ex-boyfriend’s home and wearing his clothes. And only his clothes.

You would have liked to keep your undergarments on, but they had also been soaked through. Going bare in these too-big sweats had seemed the less questionable option, compared to sitting with a wet patch around your butt and crotch. Heat flooded your face as you thought about your underwear and bra hanging on the heated towel rack in the bathroom.

Whatever. It wasn’t like they were things he’d never seen before. And as for his clothes, of course you’d wash them before giving them back to him.

It was then that you decided that you had enough of sitting around in a puddle of fabric and your own thoughts. Jaehyun’s living room wasn’t all that big, even if it felt roomier than your own, with enough space to fit a decently-sized couch and small coffee table. The tv on the far wall sat atop a rather large entertainment unit that, upon further inspection, also housed a record player and an impressive collection of vinyls.

You padded over, eyes flicking through the various titles printed on the covers. One of them had been taken out from the shelf and sat splayed on top of the cabinet. Maybe he had meant to play it, or just forgotten to put it away. Slowly, you let a finger trace around the edge of the jacket and over the black lettering of the title. You’d recognise that white album cover anywhere.

Only you knew how much effort it had taken to source the thing, scouring auction sites and dodgy online stores until you finally bit the bullet and ordered it from a reasonable-looking seller with a 4.7 star rating. But it had all been worth it. The unadulterated joy on Jaehyun’s face as he undid the wrapping paper to reveal Frank Ocean’s Blonde was not something you could easily forget. Later, you found out that it had probably been a bootleg, since the official Blonde vinyls were a limited release, but he had hardly batted an eye when you broke the news.

“Still my favourite birthday present that anyone’s gotten me,” Jaehyun said.

Dressed in a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants, he leant against the bathroom door, surveying you with an easy smile. You must not have heard the shower turn off, the noise drowned out by the storm raging outside. His hair, still damp from the shower, hung over his eyes, and you watched as he brushed it back with his right hand, arm flexing with the movement.

The sudden flare in your lower belly was something you’d rather not feel, alone in these four walls with him, with nobody else around to witness or put a stop to whatever might follow. You’d like to think self control was something you had a firm grip on, but it seemed Jaehyun was made to put you to the test.

“Actually think it might be my favourite present ever,” he added, pushing off the door frame. He reached you in a few strides, maintaining a polite distance between your bodies.

“I didn’t even realise you still had this,” you murmured, letting him take the record from your hands. You tried not to flinch at the brush of his fingers against yours. “You didn’t even have one of these back then,” you said, lightly tapping the case of the record player.

“I changed my mind, actually. The turntable is my favourite present.”

An unfamiliar twinge of dread zipped through you. “Who gave it to you?”

Could it be an ex-lover’s gift sitting on display in his living room? That did not sit nicely in your stomach.

“Myself.”

He was holding back a laugh, eyes squeezed into crescent moons and too busy appreciating his own joke to catch the quick roll of your eyes. Instantly, your chest felt a little lighter, and the dread vanished as quickly as it had come on.

“Here, let me put it on,” he said, shuffling over towards you to lift up the case on the record player. With gentle fingers and a delicateness you didn’t see often, he unsleeved the record and carefully placed it on the turntable. A few fiddles with the side knobs and a precise adjustment of the needle arm later, the opening bars of Frank Ocean’s Pink and White filled the air of his living room.

For a minute, there were no words exchanged, the two of you simply content to enjoy the music as it filtered through the speakers. There was a quiet smile on Jaehyun’s face. You wondered if he, like you, was thinking of the last time you had listened to this album together.

The image of the two of you, sprawled out on his bed, sharing a pair of wired earphones, was hard to shake. It had been early evening, or nearly twilight. Sometime before sunset. The reflection on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom had changed along with the sky, until the only light left in the room was the dim blue glow from the laptop on his desk. At his mother’s call for dinner, he had gently shaken you awake, fingers light on your shoulder and against your cheek.

Jaehyun was undoubtedly handsome in the light. But there was something about dusk and the softness of the shadows on his face that made him all the more compelling. You usually weren’t one to initiate, so the kiss you pressed to his mouth in the barely-lit room had surprised you both.

Even now, the thought strangely sent a flood of heat to your cheeks.

“Sorry, did you want something to eat? I haven’t been a very good host.”

The grumble of your stomach answered before you could. You bit back an embarrassed smile, but Jaehyun was not so frugal with his amusement, letting out a short chuckle. Your feet followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Perched on the marble countertop, you watched as he rummaged through the fridge.

“I have eggs, yesterday’s leftovers, and a shit ton of beer cans,” he announced.

You exchanged a glance.

“Let’s do ramen, actually. That sounds better.” He bent down to dig through the pantry, pulling out two red packets, before moving back to the fridge and getting two eggs. “I can crack these in too, and—why are you looking at me like that?”

It was your turn to laugh, the wide grin on your face a contrast to the cautious smile on his.

“Are we having ramen?”

His brow creased a little. “I thought you liked ramen?” The innocent tilt of his head made him all the more endearing to look at.

“I do, but… did you really invite me back to your place… to have ramen?”

It took a few seconds for the ball to drop. You held back giggles as his ears flushed hotly, as they always seemed to do on the occasions you decided to indulge yourself and tease him.

“Come on, that’s not—you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, bottom lip jutting out with the suggestion of a pout. Despite his grumbles, the shape of his mouth slowly settled into a defeated smile at your visible glee of having flustered him.

Jaehyun, soft-spoken and easy-going, was not the type to be easily ruffled. You excelled and enjoyed the challenge of it more than most.

“No,” he said once your laughter had somewhat subsided, voice low and velvety. “But I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

The silence that followed was a loud one. It was hard to ignore the way your mouth dried up at his words. Something warm and tingly spread from your stomach all the way down to your toes as you stood there under his level gaze, eyes drawn to his like magnets. He had to know. The effect his words had on you were surely plastered all over your face, obvious in the tight grip of your fingers against the countertop and the shortening of your breaths.

Jaehyun leaned in a little closer and you felt the inhale stick in the back of your throat. Then he cracked a crooked smile, pretty teeth all on display.

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

He moved away then, busying himself with pouring water into a pot and bringing it to a boil while you tried to blink yourself out of the daze. “Ramen okay?” he asked over his shoulder.

You cleared your dry throat, somehow finding your voice again. “Ramen is fine. Thank you,” you added after a beat. You took a deep breath, waiting for the rush of blood to drain from your face.

Something sour settled in your chest — something akin to disappointment, though surely it couldn’t be. Disappointed that what? Jaehyun wasn’t actually sexually attracted to you? When you were obviously still attracted to him, despite all your attempts at convincing yourself you weren’t?

You scoffed to yourself. As if.

A quick shake of your head was almost enough to clear your mind, save for the remnants of that sour feeling that lingered. You asked if there was anything you could do to help, not wanting to simply sit around on your thumbs and wait to be fed. He had insisted you do exactly that, warning you there was only enough space in the kitchen for one, and assuring that there was nothing he needed from you besides patience and faith in his cooking.

Patience you could give him. Faith was a little harder to muster, given your memories of the kitchen disaster from when he had tried to make okonomiyaki.

The questionable, half-burnt half-uncooked taste was one thing. You finding random pieces of cabbage on the tiled floor for days afterwards was another thing entirely.

However, it seemed Jaehyun had improved from his old ways. The steaming pot he brought over to the coffee table not only smelled delicious, but looked the part too. You helped carry over the small bowls and chopsticks, along with two cans of beer, despite his requests for you to just sit and be ready to eat.

You took the first bite, blowing on the noodles to cool them down before slurping them into your mouth. All the while, he watched you, an expectant expression painting his face.

“Wow. You’ve grown up, Jeong Jaehyun. Who would’ve guessed you’d become such a whiz in the kitchen?”

He smiled, a bashful one at your compliment. “Being able to cook ramen is nothing impressive,” he said, digging in with his own chopsticks.

“There was no way you could have made this for me when we were 17. Look at this egg!” The centre was perfectly soft, not too runny, but not rock hard either. Just the way you liked them.

You took another mouthful. “You’re a changed man,” you said. “Honestly, your place is a lot cleaner than I expected it to be.”

“That’s what living with four other guys will do to you. I had to learn how to clean out of pure survival,” he chuckled.

“Was it really that bad?”

He grimaced. “You should’ve seen my dorm room. Basically a biological hazard.”

“They didn’t let non-students into the building. Your building RA was crazy scary, remember?” Even now you could remember the perpetual scowl of the law major when Jaehyun brought you into the dorm lobby.

“It was probably for the best. You would’ve broken up with me on the spot the second you walked through the door.”

You shared a laugh. Strangely, jokes about your break-up were light-hearted in their landing, the words leaving much less of a prickly uncomfortableness than you had been expecting. Perhaps it was still an event of importance in your life, but that cloudy unpleasantness you had come to associate it with had dissipated. It was a turning point, certainly. But so was graduation, and moving out, and travelling overseas for the first time.

Your feelings about those things weren’t all bad. As you shared the pot of ramen and sipped on your beers, you realised, neither were your feelings about Jaehyun.

“I’m telling you, I was drinking Taeyong under the table. And I do mean that literally. He was passed out and laid across the stools.” He grinned, proud at the memory of beating his senior even five years later. You couldn’t help but grin too, amused by the sincerity of his expression and the way his shoulders set in accomplishment.

“Okay, okay. So now you’re a better drinker, you’ve gotten good at cooking, and you’re cleaner too.”

“And funnier,” he added.

“That one is still up for debate,” you joked, and his eyebrows furrowed together in mock offence. Digs at his sense of humour were not taken lightly.

“Just because you don’t get my high quality gags,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re missing out.”

You nodded, making a noise of agreement if only to appease him.

“What about me? How am I different?” you asked, voice curious.

Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat. “Hmm, I think you got older?”

“Come on, I’m being serious!”

His laughter subdued then, surveying you thoughtfully. A quiet smile tugged at his lips when he spoke again.

“You’re more outspoken than you used to be.” He paused, taking a sip from his can while trying to find the right words, all the while keeping his eyes on you. “You prioritise yourself more. And you’re more sure of who you are. You shine brighter, I think.”

Strange, how a person’s gaze could strip you down and make you feel so naked. There was nothing but earnestness in his eyes, plain and absolute, and the intensity of it was almost too much for you to bear. After all your time apart, Jaehyun could still see you, and see through you.

I think you still know me inside out, and that scares me, you wanted to tell him.

Instead, you looked away first, tearing your eyes away from his with considerable effort. The pot of ramen on the coffee table, lukewarm now, was almost finished. The music had also stopped playing a while ago. Neither you or Jaehyun had bothered to get up and flip the vinyl to the other side, too busy eating. All that was left was the rain, and even that had faded to a soft pattering against the glass, following its own rhythm.

Hastily, you stuffed a piece of kimchi into your mouth, for lack of anything better to do. The crunch of it in your mouth was loud, and you fought back a cringe.

“Did your mother make this?” you asked, hoping your attempt at diverting the conversation wasn’t so obvious.

If Jaehyun noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodding in confirmation.

“She dropped some off last month,” he replied. “Remember how you told me her’s was better than your own mother’s?”

You let out a scandalised gasp. “As if I would ever say such a thing! Don’t let my mother ever hear something so blasphemous about her favourite daughter.”

“You’re her only daughter.”

“And you care too much about technicalities. Just because I’m the only one doesn’t mean I can’t still be the favourite.”

The crisp crunch of another piece of kimchi punctuated the end of your sentence. There was certainly something different about Mama Jeong’s recipes. If there was one thing you missed besides Jaehyun himself, it would have been his mother’s cooking. The woman knew her way around a stovetop better than a Michelin chef, at least in your eyes.

You thought of her warm smile, and her even warmer embrace. Jaehyun had inherited many things from her, kindness being the greatest of them. Back then, she had been so sure of your future place in their family, welcoming you into her home as if you were her own daughter. You wondered where she stood on that now.

Still clinging onto that idea, perhaps, or were her sights now set on someone else?

“You’ve got something…” Jaehyun murmured.

He reached across the table, over the pot and the small bowls, the movement quick and almost instinctive. Soft fingers found purchase on your left cheek. His thumb was gentle as it brushed away the stray chilli flake from the corner of your mouth.

Just the lightest touch against your bottom lip. And the warmth of his hand cradling your face.

Then he froze, as if to catch himself, but the damage was already done.

Jaehyun pulled his hand back with a start, an inscrutable expression across his face. He spilled a quick apology that you smiled away, putting on a composed front. At least, you assumed it was an apology. It was hard to hear anything above the buzzing chaos of your mind. The air filled with idle noise as the two of you shuffled in your seats.

“I should um—I should probably get going,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. The meal had long been finished. Your hands were already beginning to gather up the bowls and utensils into a stack for easy carrying.

Jaehyun hummed, something akin to resignation in the noise. “Yeah, uh… I guess so.”

“Let me help you clean up first, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Despite his protests against you assisting with any kind of housework, there you were at the sink, helping him scrub everything nice and clean within the small space of his kitchen. Maybe he was right about there only being enough space for one person behind the counter. The aluminium beer cans went into their designated bins, and you made sure to wipe down the coffee table too.

This time, your half-damp, half-dried clothes found their way into a Byredo shopping bag — Jaehyun would rather die than not smell good — though your shoes still squelched rather uncomfortably when you slipped your bare feet in. By luck, you were able to book a taxi and could pass on the wet walk to the bus stop.

You thanked him again for bringing you along, noting that you probably got more out of the alleged ‘favour’ than he did.

“Trust me, going with you made the whole thing so much better,” he said, both cheeks dimpling in your favourite smile of his. “And let me know if you need to get the film on your camera developed. I know a place.”

The ride home was flavoured by a sudden loneliness. Maybe it was the view of the city at night, or the absence of people out on the rainy streets, that had an empty feeling settle in your chest.

Perhaps you should have delayed leaving his apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left at all, and instead weathered the night away with Jaehyun on the couch, some slasher flick playing on the television while you shook under the blankets and tried not to scream at the jumpscares, like you used to. You never did understand why he liked horror films as much as he did.

Perhaps he’d slot his fingers between your own and give them a reassuring squeeze, and gaze at you with the kind of amused fondness he only ever reserved for you.

Heat flooded your face. As if you were entertaining the thought of spending the night at your ex-boyfriend’s place. And getting butterflies at the thought of holding hands?

How embarrassing.

One thing was for certain. The walls you had put up were cracking, and there seemed to be little hope of patching them up.

“Will you stop messing with that thing?”

Jungwoo clicked his tongue against his teeth, fingers still fiddling with the ribbon on the gift bag.

“It’s not straight,” he grumbled, pulling at the bow.

“You’re so pedantic.”

“It’s called being detail-oriented,” he fired back, leaning against the backseat of the taxi with a sigh.

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I’m not.”

“Well,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. His mouth formed the shape of a smirk.

You flicked a glance towards the rearview mirror, checking to see if the driver was paying attention to the two of you in the back. After verifying he was not, you landed a few (soft…ish) punches on Jungwoo’s upper arm, revelling in the shocked little noises he made, along with a few mumbles of ‘that actually hurts’ and ‘crazy woman’.

How nice it was to let your hands fly without the threat of some other fifth floor witness reporting you for physical harassment.

“I’m telling Joy the present is entirely from me,” you warned, turning around to face the front again.

“Right, except the card inside says my name too. So that’s not going to work.”

You reached into the gift bag, pulling out said card before rolling down the window. “Let me just throw this out.”

It was Jungwoo’s turn to deliver a light smack to your wrist. You dropped the envelope back in the bag, not without tossing an eye-roll his way. He knew just as well as you did that there was no real substance behind the threats — banter with Jungwoo was more for amusement than anything else. Deep down, you were quite fond of him, even if your actions tended to say otherwise, and you’d like to wager he quite enjoyed your company too.

You couldn’t wait to get a few shots in him later tonight. Word had it he was a notorious lightweight.

“Hopefully nobody vomits. I’d hate to be cleaning that up in my own house.” He shuddered at the thought.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” you smiled sweetly, patting him on the shoulder. “You just focus on sticking to your limit, okay? I heard what happened at last year’s wrap up event.”

He bristled. “Nothing happened! It honestly wasn’t even that bad. I’m getting unfairly slandered,” he sulked. “I think you should stop hanging out with Joy so much.”

“Yeah, alright. Should we just skip her birthday party and turn the car around then?”

“Shut up.”

The taxi pulled up in front of Joy’s apartment complex, a tall modern thing with much bigger windows than your own building. And so much more glass, too. After splitting the taxi fare with Jungwoo, the two of you stood at the entrance, waiting for the intercom to connect.

“Are you sure you pressed the right buttons?” Jungwoo asked, peering over your shoulder.

“Yes, of course. Apartment 814.”

“Maybe you should let me try.”

You let out a sigh. “It’s three numbers, Jungwoo. How is it going to be any different if it’s you pressing them instead of me? Do you think the keypad is going to magically—”

“Hello?”

An unfamiliar male voice crackled through the intercom. “Are you here for Joy?”

“Yes,” you and Jungwoo answered in unison.

“Great, I’ll come down to get you guys now. Will only be a minute!” and then the line disconnected.

You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance. “Is he going to let us in?” you asked.

“He literally said he’d come down to get us,” he answered flatly. “Do you not listen?”

“It was hard to hear him clearly with all the noise in the background,” you grumbled in defence. Hopefully Joy’s walls were thicker than your own, and her neighbours would not lodge a complaint halfway through the night.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the face of the intercom answerer. It wasn’t detective work to match up the real thing to the pictures Joy would sometimes show you, though he looked taller in real life than he did in the photos from their weekend Jeju trip.

“Sorry about the wait, it was a bit hard to hear the doorbell,” he greeted, ushering you both inside with a warm smile. “I’m Doyoung, by the way.”

You and Jungwoo both introduced yourselves as you stepped into the elevator after him, to which he responded with a hum in recognition, and a knowing grin.

“Are you on door duty for the night?” Jungwoo asked.

Doyoung nodded, pressing on the button for the eighth floor. “It appears I am. She has her hands full with guests to entertain, so,” he trailed off, eyes glazing over for a split second, “you’ll see what I mean when we get up there.”

You had never imagined that a 2-bedroom apartment could fit so many people. Granted, it was nothing compared to the kind of parties you frequented during your university days where cheap spirits and green soju bottles lined the counter, but it was quite a distant cry from the gathering you thought it would be. Judging by the look on Jungwoo’s face, he had not been expecting this either.

There had to be at least forty people. It almost made you wonder why she didn’t just book out a space instead of letting everyone invade her and her boyfriend’s shared home.

Doyoung made his exit rather quickly after letting you in, probably off to tend to one of his many other duties as unofficial host — poor guy was likely in for a very busy night — leaving you and Jungwoo to fend for yourselves in the entryway of the apartment. There was barely any room left in the tiled space for you to put your shoes.

How did Joy even know this many people? was the thought at the forefront of your mind as you helped Jungwoo stack his sneakers next to yours on a rack further down the hallway. Her present was left on a table near the entry piled with gift bags and wrapped boxes that you assumed was the designated drop-off area.

Speaking of the birthday girl, you spotted her mingling in the living room and pointed her out to Jungwoo, though it was no easy feat finding her. The number of people, coupled with the dim ambient lighting, made it a challenge to recognise familiar faces. Joy, champagne glass in hand, was swept away in conversation with one of the most beautiful women you had ever laid eyes on. The gorgeous lady held a matching champagne flute in one hand, while the other was wrapped around the arm of—

“Junmyeon? What the hell is he doing here with that beautiful woman?”

Jungwoo took the words right out of your mouth, a somewhat displeased noise making its way past his lips. You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can’t believe this turned into a work function the moment we stepped through the door,” you all but groaned. “And here I thought having you around was bad enough already.”

You expertly dodged the elbow he jabbed into your side.

Joy spotted the two of you then, lingering by the kitchen, and quickly excused herself from the conversation to rush over. The champagne wobbled precariously in her glass as she approached, engulfing the two of you in a sweet-smelling hug.

“My little children! I’m so glad you could make it!” she cried, resting her chin in the space between your shoulder and Jungwoo’s. You exchanged a glance with the boy amidst the chorus of ‘happy birthday’s.

There was a 77% chance she was drunk already.

“Had a little too much fun tonight?” you asked, helping to prop her upright again.

Joy only beamed in response. “All the more fun now that you two are here. My favourite fifth floor prisoners.” She gave your cheek a soft pinch.

“Quick question,” Jungwoo began, “why is our manager in your house?”

“With his arm around a beautiful woman way out of his league?” you added, swatting her fingers away from your face.

“That’s my sister Irene,” she said, like it was common knowledge.

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you have a sister?”

“Okay, well not my real sister,” she amended, hurriedly waving off your words. “She was a senior in my department. I was really close with her back in university, so, basically my sister. I think we look pretty alike, honestly.”

“And her relation to Junmyeon is…?”

Joy threw a conspiratorial glance around before leaning in, beckoning the two of you closer. This time, a few drops of the champagne did manage to escape via the side of her glass, narrowly missing Jungwoo’s white socks.

“I set them up. On a date!” she whispered, eyes glinting with pride. Why she chose to whisper when it was already hard enough to hear her above the noise at her normal speaking level was beyond you.

You blinked at her a few times. “You set up a goddess like that… with our manager?”

Joy waved another hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Like Junmyeon’s not handsome too. You only think that because you’re too used to seeing him frown and squint at a monitor.”

You cast a glance in his direction. Maybe she was right. Junmyeon did look somewhat more like a human without his glasses and the semi-permanent lines etched into his forehead. He even looked (dare you say it) quite nice. But maybe it was the poor lighting that made it seem that way.

“Anyways, it’s been about… two months now? I think they look pretty good together,” she mused, following your gaze.

Junmyeon must have said something funny — a rather loose use of the word by your standards — because Irene had her lovely face scrunched up in a laugh, the pitched sound of it ringing out clearly above the noise of the apartment. In her amusement, she even threw a hand out to slap him lightly on the arm, which he appeared very pleased by.

Sure, you laughed at his jokes too, but it was more out of corporate self-preservation than actual amusement.

“He kind of has been in a better mood recently,” Jungwoo said thoughtfully.

Joy grabbed his hand with fervour. “Yes, exactly! See? Thanks to my sacrifice, we can all enjoy a nicer, much more pleasant office environment.”

“I’d hardly call that a sacrifice,” you chuckled. “You take too much pleasure in playing matchmaker.” Joy’s response was nothing more than a guilty smile, followed by her emptying the rest of the glass.

It was then that you heard it — the deep, reverberating laugh that always bordered a little bit on breathlessness. It was slightly unnerving how quickly you could pinpoint the sound of his voice without even seeing him, or knowing that he had entered the room.

You turned around first, eyes drawn to the entry hallway in search of the face to which the laugh belonged. Of course he was going to be here. You knew that. He had said as much two days ago, bidding you farewell across the cafeteria table with a promise to ‘see you on the weekend at Joy’s’.

Lunch with Jaehyun had recently become a rarer occurrence. From what he told you, and the bits of information you gleaned from Joy about Digital, Johnny had pulled Jaehyun onto his team to try and get a firmer grip on the reins not even two weeks ago. Already, the intensity of the new workload was obvious.

You certainly saw him less, much to your disappointment — you could admit that to yourself now.

Jaehyun emerged from the hallway then, midway through another laugh with an arm slung around Doyoung’s shoulders. Funny, how all the other faces were so murky and hard to identify under the dim lighting. And yet, the shape of his dimpled smile was unmistakable to you, as bright as the beacon of a lighthouse on the midnight sea.

Doyoung scanned the room, catching sight of Joy with you and Jungwoo. He gestured at his girlfriend, and Jaehyun obediently turned in your direction, likely wanting to give his greetings to the birthday girl.

Your eyes locked, and your heart gave a woeful little squeeze in your chest.

“I’m just going to do a quick check on the drink inventory,” Doyoung said as they approached, “I’ll be right back. And please take care of my favourite guest.” With a final friendly pat on Jaehyun’s shoulder, he was off, ducking into the kitchen.

“Happy birthday!” Jaehyun beamed, arms circling around Joy in a hug which she enthusiastically returned. He grabbed Jungwoo’s hand, pulling him in for one of those man greetings. (Since when were they close?) Their apparent friendship was an unexpected development.

And then it was your turn. You wondered if it was as easy for others to find solace in a mere gaze as you did with Jaehyun. His eyes did not stray far, wandering around your face, something tender and comforting in his appraisal of your features. A hand came up to brush against your lower back, a gentle and quiet greeting against the excitement of the previous two. His lips pulled into a soft smile as he called your name in greeting.

“You two are ridiculous,” Joy scoffed.

You inhaled sharply. Was it really that easy to tell? The depth of your attachment?

“You planned this, right? I mean seriously, matching outfits?” she asked, gesturing at you and Jaehyun.

You blinked a few times, looking down blankly at yourself. The dark wash denim and white silk that you had picked out yesterday looked back at you familiarly. Then you glanced at Jaehyun, taking in his white t-shirt, half tucked into a pair of jeans that were exactly the same wash as yours.

The coordination was completely unintentional — you had no idea what you were going to wear tonight the last time you had spoken to him — but the look on Joy’s face told you there was no use in trying to convince her of the truth.

(You would’ve argued that the cowl neck of your white silk top elevated your outfit above Jaehyun’s plain white tee, but you digressed.)

“Okay. I’m done with this,” Jungwoo said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’m going to do what single people do, and that is to get a goddamn drink.”

“Me too, another bubbly,” Joy chimed, grasping onto Jungwoo’s arm as he turned to leave for the kitchen. “See my success rate? Let me set you up with someone. My hairdresser’s daughter went to Korea University Business School and graduated not too long ago.”

The rest of her appeal to play matchmaker for Jungwoo was swallowed up by the music and chatter of her guests. And then it was just you, and Jaehyun, and the thirty other people filling up the living room.

The two of you shared a glance before dissolving into a few light giggles.

“I do think I pull it off better,” you teased, giving Jaehyun another once-over. He was as handsome as always, the white cotton draped picturesquely across his lean frame while the dark jeans made his mile-long legs look even longer. He could wear a garbage bag and make it look couture.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said with a crooked smile.

He raised his arm to reveal the denim jacket draped across his arm that you hadn’t noticed before, too busy making sad little googly eyes at him that you hoped other people couldn’t see. The jacket was coloured in the same wash as his jeans, and your own.

You gave a scandalised gasp. “No, a matching set? How am I supposed to beat that?”

“You can’t. You can only admit defeat to the double denim. I out-Justin-Timberlaked you.”

“Justin Timberlake is not a verb.”

He only grinned in response, teeth pearly and eyes sparkling as he took in the slight pout of your mouth.

“Whatever,” you conceded with a wave of your hand, though a smile crept its way onto your face. “You win. Let’s get something to drink.”

Jungwoo and Joy were nowhere to be found when the two of you made your way to the kitchen. What you did find was an impressive selection of bottles atop the marble counter, a selection that easily outdid the ones from your university days in both quality and variety.

At least one thing was the same. Green soju bottles were always a dependable presence.

“Shall we go for your favourite?” Jaehyun asked, holding up what looked to be a bottle of wine. You moved a little closer, peering at the label through his fingers.

“I do enjoy a good red,” you replied, accepting the glass he offered you with a quiet ‘thank you’. You took a small sip — because tonight, you felt no need to gulp down alcohol like a camel to ease your nerves — before adding, “Merlot is far from my favourite though.”

“Really?’ He raised an eyebrow. “I do seem to remember how you pretty much finished a whole bottle by yourself. At dinner, that time at the Italian place.”

You held back a wince at the recollection of that fated blind date. Of course he’d remember that. It would be hard to forget the way you all but sculled down three full glasses in the time it took him to finish one. A quick sideways glance revealed the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, paired with a telling glint in his eyes. Jaehyun was teasing.

“It was honestly quite impressive,” he said, lips curling into a full-blown smile now.

“That was different,” you said. The next sip went down a little faster than you would have liked. “That was out of necessity.”

There was no way I could’ve made it through that night without alcohol in my system, you almost said, but caught yourself just in time.

A few seconds passed before either of you spoke again.

“Were you really upset to see me?”

Gone was the playful lilt to his voice. This question was asked softly, carefully, the sound of it so delicate you were afraid it would shatter in the air at your clumsy reply. Slowly, you turned to look at him, seeking the reassurance you were sure you could find in his eyes, but they had moved to the contents of his own glass. You followed their path, watching as he gave the liquid a few absent-minded swirls.

“Maybe. A little, I think,” you admitted. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on in my head that day. When I realised it was you.”

A pair of giggling women — Joy’s guests who you didn’t know — approached the counter, one of them tentatively reaching for something in front of you. Noticing her struggle, you shuffled slightly towards Jaehyun, trying to make some space around the counter. The one with her hand outstretched flashed you a grateful smile, which you politely returned, although with far less vigour.

Perhaps the bustling kitchen in the centre of all the foot traffic wasn’t the best place for a conversation like this.

There was some fussing with the bottle cap, or whatever it was that they couldn’t quite get to work, followed by a considerably clean pour for two people who were clearly not quite sober. Then they were gone, giggling the entire way out of the kitchen and freeing up the space around you.

If you wanted to, you could have stepped back and returned to your original spot before their arrival. Put some more distance between you and Jaehyun again. Not that you were seriously encroaching on his personal space, but it was enough for you to recognise the proximity.

Instead, you took the smallest of steps closer and placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes flitted down at the touch, taking in the way your fingers lay feather-light on his skin, just above the ridge of his wrist.

“I’m glad it was you,” you said. The words were true, but the honesty of them still tasted odd on your tongue, and you fought back a cringe. Jaehyun finally turned to meet your eyes, some semblance of hope, or maybe it was relief that coloured his expression. “And I’m glad we’re here, now,” you added.

You hoped he knew you weren’t talking about the far right corner of Joy’s kitchen.

Jaehyun smiled, and it was like the sun had finally risen up over the stark mountain peak, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. It was the kind of warmth you didn’t realise you craved until the full force of it spilled over you, washing away the blue and the cold.

“Me too,” he said softly.

Even if you hadn’t fallen victim to Joy’s schemes, you would like to think the two of you would still end up here, only via longer and slightly different routes. Perhaps an unexpected run-in in the lobby on a Tuesday morning, or the eventual and excruciatingly awkward introduction through Joy. Whatever it may have been, you’d like to think you would’ve found your way to each other again eventually.

Curiosity tickled your mind. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He was still smiling, the lines by his nose just visible, and he had his eyes on you, though there was a faraway look about them. Something about his gaze reminded you of the way you’d regard a painting, framed and hung up on a wall in some art museum — carefully examining the details of the brushstrokes against the canvas, yet all the while trying to hold the whole piece in your mind’s eye, and let it touch the surface of that primal emotion somewhere inside of you. The depth of his gaze was enough to make you self-conscious, and you quickly averted your eyes, taking another sip from your glass. It was a good excuse to school your features before you spoke again.

“How did you feel when you saw me? Were you upset?”

Jaehyun regarded his own glass wistfully. “Not exactly upset, no,” he began, though a movement in his peripheral had him trailing off.

Another of Joy’s guests had appeared, hovering beside the two of you with his eyes set on the bottle of whiskey directly in front of you. Politely, Jaehyun side-stepped away from the counter and wrapped a gentle hand around the bend of your elbow, guiding you out of the hectic buzz of the kitchen. It stayed there, warm and comforting, until you found your way back to the open space of the living room, and even then he was slow to let you go, fingertips lingering a just second too long before they retreated back to his side.

“I think I was surprised, more than anything,” he continued. “Didn’t really know what to expect, not that I was expecting much. I never even thought I’d get to see you again after university. Thought you were gone for good.”

He paused, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly. The movement was small, and you wondered if you were supposed to have caught it at all.

“You stood there, with your bag in one hand and your cardigan in the other, looking like you were waiting for me to spontaneously combust—”

“Okay, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“—and all I could think about was how you were even prettier than I remembered. And back then I already thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

At that, you were quiet. Whatever silly rebuttal or attempt to defend yourself died quickly on your tongue as you let his confession settle beneath your skin, warming it from the inside out. Jaehyun was not even one bit fazed, looking like he had just said something trivial about the weather, or stated some objective fact like ‘grass is green’. For him, honesty had never been the heavy, cumbersome challenge it was for you. Judging by the resigned smile on his face, he wasn’t expecting some grand response from you either, which was all the better, because god, what were you supposed to say to something like that?

“Oh, there you are,” came a voice from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder.

Joy’s timing was impeccable, as always.

“Sorry, this one is coming with me,” she said to Jaehyun, looping her arm around yours with half-drunken determination. “Us fifth-floors have some business to settle. With darts.”

Your eyes followed the direction of her outstretched arm, where sure enough, there was a dartboard hanging on the wall by the balcony. Jungwoo was there, standing obediently with his hands crossed in front of his stomach as he politely nodded along to whatever Junmyeon was animatedly saying. The beer bottle Jungwoo cradled, now forgotten, seemed more like an accessory than an actual beverage. He caught your eye and sent you a frantic look.

You whipped your head back to Jaehyun. “Please don’t let her take me.”

Surely, he could see the pleading, the desperation in your eyes.

Jaehyun, having witnessed the whole exchange between you and Jungwoo, only grinned. “It does sound like some serious business,” he said, cheeks dimpling. Joy made a noise of agreement and gave your arm a little tug.

“You’re more than welcome to come and spectate, Jaehyun,” she called out over her shoulder as she herded you towards her destination. His only response was a hearty laugh. You stared at him in despair as you were towed away by the birthday girl. Next time you’d invite his boss to the function.

The game of darts (or seven games, if you were being precise) was decidedly less awful than you had expected. Junmyeon had promised not to speak about work and by some miracle, actually stuck to his word. Maybe you even got to know the guy a little better, outside of his office habits like the specific order in which he drank his three teas everyday (yuja, then chamomile, and lastly peppermint). Like you, he was somewhat of a wine enthusiast, though his knowledge of French vineyards was far superior to yours.

By the third round, the game had clearly left your little work circle. Jaehyun joined in at one point, competitiveness getting the better of him. Doyoung tried his hand too, and he was honestly abysmal, but smiled the whole time and seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he had to pick the darts off the floor on every turn. Out of all the players over the course of the seven games, Junmyeon’s date Irene had been the most unexpected hidden card, scoring three bullseyes in a row.

Oh, to be a goddess and have perfect hand-eye coordination.

“You feeling okay?” you asked a rather blank-looking Jungwoo. His eyes were beginning to droop, and so was the rest of his body, long limbs sprawled out against the leather. You could swear he only had his initial bottle of beer and the two celebratory soju shots Joy had forced him to take (from which you were not exempt either), and yet here he was, half-asleep on the couch.

“Hmm,” was his eloquent reply.

The party was slowly drawing to a close, the living room much emptier now than it had been when you first walked in. Junmyeon and Irene had made their departure some twenty minutes ago, and there were only a handful of guests left, most of them getting ready to leave as well. Grown adults didn’t gamble with their sleep schedules.

Doyoung emerged from the hallway, running a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head, already tousled from the fifty or so times he had repeated the action throughout the night.

“Okay, she’s knocked out,” he sighed. On his face, you glimpsed the first sign of relief you had seen all night. “I don’t think she’s going to puke, but I left a bucket by the bed just in case.”

You flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t imagine it was easy having to wrangle all these people for so long.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. As long as Joy’s happy and had a good time.”

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Doyoung smiled, and the fondness held within it felt like a private thing you shouldn’t have witnessed. Your mind went, now as it always did, to a certain dimpled smile.

“I’d better get this one home,” you said instead, gesturing at Jungwoo slumped on the couch. You turned towards the boy, patting his shoulder gently. “Come on, time to go.”

“Mmffh.”

Another brilliant and enlightening response.

The owner of your favourite dimpled smile stepped out from the bathroom to the sight of you struggling to get Jungwoo upright enough to loop an arm around your shoulders. The half-asleep boy was lean, but definitely heavier than he looked, or perhaps the few glasses of wine over the course of the night had sapped some of the strength from your body. Jaehyun was at your side in an instant, shouldering most of Jungwoo’s weight as the two of you dragged him to a standing position.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, no room for discussion in his tone. You had no mind to protest anyway.

Doyoung was already busying himself with clearing plates and glasses from the living area when Jaehyun bid him farewell. The guy seemed to have formulated a detailed plan of attack to get his apartment back to the no-doubt spotless state it had been prior to tonight.

“I sorted out most of the empty bottles so you should be able to just throw them out in the morning,” Jaehyun said over his shoulder. He crouched on the ground, guiding Jungwoo’s disobedient left foot into the correct shoe, carefully doing up the laces once both feet were inside their corresponding sneakers.

You tossed a glance back at Doyoung whizzing around the place like a Roomba, feeling a pang of guilt for not having done much to help him clean up. Even though you had been a much more gracious and tidy guest than other people in Joy’s company, you couldn’t help but feel like there was more you could’ve done, apart from babysitting a very not-sober Jungwoo and making sure he didn’t crack his head open on the corner of the coffee table.

“It’s fine,” Jaehyun said softly. You turned to look at him, half-surprised, and he only flashed you a small smile. “Doyoung likes to clean. I think he finds comfort in it.”

He was fluent as ever in your micro-expressions. Maybe one day you’d learn to stop being surprised by it.

The taxi back to Jungwoo’s place was shorter than you had expected. His head lolled between your shoulder and Jaehyun’s in the backseat, before finally finding a home in Jaehyun’s lap. Even when you finally tucked the younger boy safely into his own bed — after going to great lengths to extract his building code which involved a series of profuse apologies to his neighbours who you had mistakenly rung in the middle of the night — there was an impressive imprint on his right cheek that exactly matched the side seam on Jaehyun’s jeans. You could’ve sworn there was a small, wet patch of drool left behind on the denim, and you were sure Jaehyun himself had noticed it too, but he gave no indication of complaint.

“Are you far from here?” Jaehyun asked once the elevator had brought the both of you back down to Jungwoo’s lobby.

“I’m actually just a fifteen minute walk away,” you answered.

The invitation in your voice was silent, and you knew he would’ve accompanied you home even if you lived on the other side of the city. Still, some achingly pleasant emotion settled over you when you heard his footsteps fall in with yours against the pavement. He took his place between you and the open street, shielding you from the bustle of late night delivery bikes and club bound taxis.

Though the days still resembled summer, nights were when the beginnings of autumn could reveal itself. The slight chill in the air was not unbearable, but still noticeable against your bare arms, and just enough for goosebumps to spring up on the skin there. Before you could even bring your hands up to wrap them around yourself, Jaehyun shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, drawing the collar close around your neck. The stiff denim was a little rough, but warm from his body heat all the same, with faint traces of his woody scent lingering on the fabric.

Jaehyun thrust his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Now you out-Justin-Timberlake me.”

“Still not a real word.”

You supposed there was something about night-time that made it feel all the more forgiving to the emotional afflictions of the human condition. Perhaps it was only against the muted palette of the midnight blue sky and the dimly lit city streets that you felt brave enough to face the truth of your feelings, without agonising over the consequences of acknowledging them. Even so, you found yourself wishing the night would stretch on for just a little longer. Honesty always seemed to wear off faster than it came on.

“You’ve been crazy busy lately.”

Jaehyun’s responding laugh contained little amusement. “Crazy busy is one way to put it. I can’t believe Johnny has had to deal with all of this the whole time. This client is so,” he paused, trying to find the right word, before finally settling on “demanding.” The look in his eyes gave you the feeling there were many other more colourful adjectives he wanted to use instead.

The two of you passed the convenience store corner of your street. Your place was not too far up ahead, the glass building doors almost visible if you squinted. The night was coming to an end, and something cold and heavy settled in your chest to accompany the realisation.

“They want us in New York working on the new client site as soon as possible, so we’ve been running around trying to get visas and everything sorted,” he sighed.

Your footsteps faltered.

“You’re going to New York?” you asked.

He nodded.

“When?”

“Within the next week, if everything comes back approved.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you had come to a standstill until Jaehyun’s footsteps also slowed to a stop. The both of you stood like that, under the dim glow from the streetlights, in the middle of the sidewalk.

“We’ll probably be there until the end of the year, at least until the design piece is done,” he said.

Did your face betray the sudden drop of your stomach? Did the sound of a fissure cracking through your chest escape through the slight parting of your lips?

It was silly, really. That one small piece of information could turn your entire world on its head. International travel on a project wasn’t a rare occurrence. And you supposed you would’ve found out sooner or later, even if he hadn’t told you, because he had no obligation to update you about every development in his life, even if they involved crossing continents. Even if you wanted to know every little detail.

Jaehyun’s eyes moved from his shoes to your face. The shadows cast by the streetlights made it hard to decipher his expression, but you thought there was a pleading look to his handsome face. What he was pleading for, you weren’t entirely sure.

You cleared your throat and finally found your voice again. “That’s really exciting, Jaehyun,” you managed, trying to keep your tone light. “I hear New York is gorgeous this time of year.”

The smile you pasted on your face was a flimsy one, and you could feel your top lip begin to tremble when he didn’t quite return it. Before it could turn into a grimace, you let the corners of your mouth fall. There had never been any use in putting on an act in front of him. Unsure what else to say without sounding insincere — though you were excited for him, truly, this little fit of sadness was a silly thing that would pass surely and quickly — you turned and resumed your steps towards your apartment.

Another few minutes and you’d be in the safety of your own home. Free to let your top lip tremble and quiver, and let the inexplicable lump in your throat force its way out, rather than try to swallow it down.

It only took a few steps for you to realise that Jaehyun had not followed. You looked over your shoulder to find him standing there by the streetlight, eyes fixed on the ground again.

“I don’t want to go,” he said, toeing at a crack in the concrete. “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to leave…”

You.

He may not have said that last word, but you heard it all the same. Your chest squeezed with emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“But you have to,” you said softly. A gentle breeze blew through the early autumn air and you briefly wondered if your words had been carried adrift.

He looked up at you then, eyes burning into yours with unspoken sentiments. A thousand words were conveyed with that one look, those few seconds in which you understood everything he wanted to say, and nothing he wanted to say, because he hadn’t said much at all. Just like how he could read your emotions with a simple glance at your face, you saw his reluctance. You saw the irresolution in his resolve, and how it wavered as he turned over in his mind the things he wanted to say to you, and how much of his heart he was willing to risk.

“But I have to,” he agreed.

Jaehyun still knew you inside out, yes, but you knew him too.

Your feet dragged over the last few hundred metres to your apartment complex, until you finally reached the door and there was nothing left you could do to delay the inevitable.

“Here,” you said, handing his jacket back to him. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He took it from your outstretched hand, fingers just brushing your knuckles. “Of course.”

And maybe Jaehyun was just as unwilling to let you go. His feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete pavement in front of your building, even though you were pretty sure no harm would befall you across the five steps into the lobby. The two of you stood there for a while, neither quite knowing what to say, or how to ward off the odd melancholy you knew he felt too.

There were so few guarantees of forever in life. You knew that. And even if you had never really gotten him back in the first place, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him again. Except this time, he wouldn’t just be a 67-minute subway ride away. This time, he’d be a 14-hour flight away, on the other side of not the city but the world, with 7,000 miles and the entire Pacific Ocean separating you.

And yes, he’d come back eventually, but who could promise that the feelings between the two of you now would be the same upon his return? You knew that you were in no position to demand he refrain from exploring other romantic pursuits, to deter him from making new connections in the diverse metropolis that was New York City, and all the excitement and energy that came with it.

You had unknowingly gotten in the way of that once.

“Well, I’d better get inside,” you said quietly, gesturing at the building behind you. Jaehyun only nodded.

This was it. All things must come to an end, you thought as you walked up to the lobby door. Even if they never really started. Perhaps you and your hesitance to let him in had played the biggest part of all, and whatever it was between you and Jaehyun wouldn’t be ending before it began if you had only been more forgiving at the start. Less pointy and disagreeable. Perhaps then you would be parting now on more certain terms, and you’d carry some peace of mind knowing he’d be coming back to you, instead of the crushing weight of disappointment currently lodged underneath your sternum.

And yet, what difference did it make? You’d be losing him anyway, no matter what you did. In two weeks’ time, he’d be sitting in a conference room on a different continent, regardless of whether you said nothing or cussed him out to his face right now.

Your hand froze on the steel handle for only a second before you turned around to face him again. Three determined strides was all it took to close the distance between you.

“What is it?” he asked.

There had been few occasions where you had seen Jaehyun drunk, or at least not sober, in the years you had known him. Your split early on in university had not afforded you many chances to witness his supposedly high tolerance in action at weekend benders. Nothing more than a few underage sips snuck from his dad’s glass at the dinner table. You took a second now to look at him, really look at him, taking in all the details of the face you knew almost as well as your own.

Pink. Everything about him was so pink, from the slight tinge around the whites of his eyes, to the lingering flush in the apples of his cheeks.

To the pretty colour of his soft, full lips.

They parted with confusion when you approached. Carefully, you reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek, feeling the way he leaned into your touch almost immediately. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments before they were searching your face again, almost fervently.

“I just…” you whispered, trying to commit this picture of him to memory.

What difference did it make?

It was hard to tell who moved first. You’d like to believe it didn’t matter.

The rhythm of your lips against his was unfamiliar at first, clumsy from years of disuse. Through slow and careful movements, you reacquainted yourself with the shape of Jaehyun’s mouth, the pillowy swell of his bottom lip as it gently slid in between your own. It fit there perfectly, like it always did. His hands came up to graze the curve of your waist, resting lightly on your skin as if he was afraid you’d crumble like sand in his grasp.

You tilted your head, parting your mouth ever so slightly to let the tip of your tongue brush against the underside of his top lip. The kiss changed immediately. You felt his surprise in the small puff of air that escaped through his nose and landed softly against your cheek. His fingers gripped at you with a newfound strength, pulling you flush against him. Even through the fabric of your shirts, the outline of his toned chest was unmistakable. Your hands found their home in the softness of hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the throaty sound that left him as you ran your hands through it.

How had you denied yourself of this for so long?

Jaehyun must have pulled away first, because suddenly you could breathe again, shaky gasps coming in and out through your mouth. He fared no better, pressing his forehead gently against yours while he tried to catch his breath.

You couldn’t think. You felt electrified, as if every nerve ending in your body was simultaneously firing, as if your blood was laced with dynamite. Hell, you had half a mind to invite him up to your room and finish off what you had so brazenly started.

“It’s late,” he finally managed, voice rough. “You should head in.” His hands, however, stayed firmly in place around your waist. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow.

Right. Perhaps it was best to let the night end here, before you could do anything else that you might regret.

“Yeah, I should probably,” you murmured, catching the way his eyes followed each movement of your mouth as you spoke. The sound of your voice seemed to break the daze he was in, and you felt his grip on you loosen, slowly and reluctantly. The arms you had looped around his neck made their way back to your sides. You were released from his warmth far too quickly.

Impulsive decisions (like inviting your ex-boyfriend to spend the night in your one-bedroom apartment with nowhere to sleep except in your bed) seldom ended well. You should’ve known better than to make those rookie mistakes.

You had barely turned around to walk up to your building doors when Jaehyun wrapped a warm hand around your wrist and pulled you back into him. He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing the small noise of surprise that left your mouth. This time, his kiss was softer, surer, and in it you tasted the sweetness of unspoken promises he was determined to keep.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, dark eyes fixed on you with conviction. Your lip colour had smudged by the side of his mouth, leaving behind a faint pink stain that only added to the pretty hue of his now kiss-swollen lips.

He was still the most gorgeous person you had ever seen.

“See you when you’re back, then,” you echoed.

Some odd emotion, neither happy nor sad, settled in your chest as you pushed open the door to the emptiness of your home. You had rushed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun before he left, only to find he had gone already, and the sidewalk outside your building was as vacant as to be expected for this hour of the night.

No matter. You’d wait for him to come back.

“One more prosecco before he disappears to the bathroom for the rest of the night.”

You cast a glance at the catering table and clicked your tongue against your teeth.

“Half a prosecco,” you concluded, taking a sip from your own glass.

Joy raised a shapely eyebrow at you. “You know it doesn’t hit until at least twenty minutes after he gets the munchies.”

“True, but he specifically told me he skipped lunch today so it would hit earlier, and he’d have the energy to mingle.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “I guess that’d do it.”

The two of you turned your gazes back to the catering table, where Jungwoo was doing some serious damage to the salmon ceviche tostadas. The glass in his hand was empty, and you watched as he asked for a refill from one of the waitstaff.

“Someone should really stop him,” Joy sighed. “Before we get a repeat of last year.”

“Someone should,” you agreed.

Neither of you made a move.

As far as year-end wrap-up events went, this one wasn’t too bad, even if it was your first at the company. This year, HR had managed to book one of the smaller function rooms at an upscale hotel, with an open bar and hors d’oeuvres menu to match. It was a nice chance to celebrate the year’s achievements, and get to know the other people in the department a little better. Already a year in this place, and you’d be lying if you said you knew the name of every person on your floor.

September to November had flown by in a blur. Recruitment for the company’s graduate program next year had been an intensive few months of screening, interviewing, reviewing, and then interviewing again. As hectic as it had been, the fruits of your team’s efforts had been warmly recognised with smiles and praises from the senior managers and higher-ups you’d had the chance to speak with tonight.

Traditionally, each department hosted their own event, though from what you gathered, HR and Marketing were the only ones that put in any real effort. While HR liked to keep things classy, Marketing liked to go all out.

“Do you think it’s true that Marketing rented out a yacht this year?” you asked. Surely their budget wasn’t that excessive.

Joy made a face. “God, I hope not. It’s the middle of December. I’d be surprised if the Han River wasn’t all frozen over.”

Winter had come early this year, sinking its cold fingers into November and staking its claim. Yet, there had been no snow, even though it was only a few days out from the holidays. Though it was nice that your clothes stayed relatively dry all day from the lack of precipitation, you couldn’t help but miss the sight of the city covered in a blanket of white softness.

“There he goes,” Joy said, nudging your arm. You turned to see Jungwoo excuse himself from the conversation, setting down a barely-touched glass on the tablecloth. He made a beeline for the men’s restrooms, or as close to a beeline as he could manage in his current state, face flushed and a little queasy.

It was a good thing the company’s holiday closure started tomorrow.

“Okay, you win. Want to come and get a refill with me?” she asked. “We can say hi to a few of the directors over there.”

The thought of having to network with more seniors, when you had already spent the last hour and a half donning bright smiles and laughing politely at their lacklustre jokes, was not a pleasant one. You knew it would be a good thing for you to go and introduce yourself, but your battery for social interaction had long since been depleted. Perhaps you should’ve taken a page out of Jungwoo’s book.

Still, you flashed Joy a grateful smile. “You go ahead. I might grab some air, actually.”

“Okay,” she replied, eyes warm with understanding. “But make sure you put your coat on. It’s freezing out there.”

She was right, of course. The toasty interior of the function room was a completely different world from the frigid gust of wind that greeted you as soon as you pulled the sliding door open. An upscale hotel needed to have a matching upscale view of the city. You leaned against the balcony railing, blocking out the icy sting of the metal against your hands, and took in the sight of the not-quite-frozen Han River below, and the sparkling Seoul Tower further away on the skyline.

You’d only be out here for a little bit, you told yourself. Just a few minutes, and then you’d head home.

Truthfully, you could have left half an hour ago when your reserves for socialising had just run out, and be within the warm and familiar confines of your own bed right now, doom-scrolling to your heart’s content. But these days, the solitude of your apartment that you had once found comforting had evolved into a loneliness that you’d rather avoid.

The empty echoes of your own footsteps across the tiled floors didn’t bounce against the walls like deep laughter did.

Absent-mindedly, you thumbed at the pendant sitting at the hollow of your throat. You had turned your jewellery box inside out, almost fully convinced that you had lost the thing entirely until you finally spotted the milky pearl set in white gold, underneath all the other chains. It was gorgeous when you had first opened the velvet box all those years ago, and it still was now, even if you hadn’t seen it for quite some time. Jaehyun always had an eye for beautiful things.

You weren’t the only one who endured a few packed and chaotic months. Johnny’s team had flown out of the country the Wednesday after Joy’s birthday and had been sequestered in New York ever since. Between your swamped schedules and the 14 hour time difference, conversations with Jaehyun were intermittent at best, and sparse and uncoordinated at worst. Sometimes he’d message with silly little things, like the time he sent you a picture of a doll sitting in the window of an antique shop.

this reminded me of you, the accompanying text had said.

He was due back soon, and there was still much left to be said, but above all, you only hoped that he was well, and that the New York winter was much more forgiving than it was here at home.

The cloudy wisps of air formed by your breath floated upwards before they dissipated into the night sky. No wonder the balcony was empty — who would want to be out here when there were mozzarella stuffed mushrooms and central heating on the other side of the glass?

You heard the doors slide open behind you as someone else equally as crazy decided to step out into the cold. Just as well. It was time for you to head back anyways. You turned to make your way inside, only to freeze in your tracks.

“They told me I’d find you out here. You really know how to pick a spot, huh?”

A soft gasp left your mouth.

“Jaehyun?”

He gave you a smile, your favourite smile, where his dimples were only just visible, and there was the hint of a pout to the shape of his lips. He was here, and he was in front of you, looking at you like you were the most wonderful thing in the world that he would ever have the good fortune of knowing. Your chest swelled almost painfully at the sight of him.

“When did you get back? How did you even get in here?”

“We landed in Incheon earlier this afternoon. I had to pay the door guy outside a hundred bucks for him to let me in.”

Your eyes widened. “He can’t make you do that!”

“Just kidding,” Jaehyun chuckled. “I only had to show him my company ID.”

He walked over to where you stood by the railing and rested his arms against the metal. His profile was sharp against the darkness of the night sky, and you took a moment to study the details while he took in the view.

“Are you tired?” you asked. “It can’t be easy adjusting to the time difference.”

“A little,” he admitted. The bags under his eyes were dark and purple now that you could see his face up close. He must have been exhausted. Nobody ever slept well on long haul flights. “You should see Johnny though. He would have come tonight, but jet lag is seriously kicking his ass.”

You shared a laugh, traces of your breaths mingling in the air. Beside him, you settled back into your original spot, mirroring the way he leaned against the metal railing. Jaehyun was close, but not too close, your elbows only a few centimetres apart. A mellow silence settled over the balcony as you gazed out at the river, watching the never-ending stream of cars as they circled the waterfront.

With even this, you were content. His mere presence next to you was a remedy in itself, regardless of the words shared or touches exchanged. You felt more at home in this moment now than you had in over 3 months.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, still gazing out into the distance. The gravity in his voice hinted at circumstances beyond the recent season he had spent on the other side of the world. And yet, he had said it so simply, as if the words were an immovable truth that would withstand the corrosion of time.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied.

Maybe it was just that simple, because it was the truth. The nights weathered away in your own apartment were only lonely because there had been an absence of him, an absence that was known to you, even if you had not felt it for many years.

He turned to you, taking in a shaky breath. “I should never have let you go.”

“Oh, Jaehyun—”

“I was young, and foolish, and I thought I knew what I wanted. And I had you, but I thought I wanted more, because I wanted everything. I wanted the whole damn world.”

Something sharp pricked behind your eyes as you listened to the honesty pouring out of him.

“And then I lost you, and it was—god, it was… like someone had sucked all the colour out of my life. And I had no one to blame, because I was the one who did that to myself. To us.”

It was so hard to not notice the pain etched into his beautiful features. The tight set of his jaw. The redness that rimmed his eyes. Your fingers ached to reach over and smooth out the crease between his brows.

“There were so many things I could have done to make things right between us again. Even if you wouldn’t have me back. But my pride, and my ego… I did nothing—”

“You can’t pin it all on yourself, Jaehyun,” you said, shaking your head. “I had no idea what I wanted. And even when I did, I never acted—I never stood up for myself. I could’ve fought for us, but I didn’t. I just accepted everything. Hell, I never even told you how I felt.”

You flashed him a watery smile. “We needed the time away from each other, don’t you think?”

There was a moment where the two of you simply stared at each other. A hurricane of repressed emotions swirled in your chest, finally breaking the surface five years on. Jaehyun must have felt the same, reliving all those memories now. You could see it on his face.

Youth was so beautiful, and precious — even the heartbreak, and all the other foolish things that came along with it.

“I let you go once, and maybe that was meant to happen.” He took a step closer. “But we’re not dumb teenagers anymore. I’m not… I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His eyes locked on yours as he gazed at you with reverence. “Don’t you still feel the same? Even after all these years?”

I do, you wanted to say.

You would have too, if it weren’t for the small speck of white that landed in Jaehyun’s dark hair. It was visible for only a few seconds before melting away. You looked up and sure enough, the night sky was dotted with white.

“First snow,” you breathed, watching as the snowflakes fell from the sky. “Do you know what that means?”

Jaehyun gave you a small shake of his head. Of course. He never believed in superstitions.

You reached for his hand, feeling his fingers respond to yours immediately. He was so warm, and his touch breathed life back into your frozen body.

“If you see the first snow with someone you love, it means that your love will be true and long-lasting.”

A few seconds passed as he took in your words, trying to make sense of them.

“You… love me?”

“I do,” you admitted. A teardrop finally spilled out from your waterline, leaving behind a wet track on your cheek that stung in the cold. “Even when I thought I hated you, deep down, I think I still loved you.”

One of his hands came up to wipe away the trail of moisture from the escaped tear. The action sent a shiver through your entire body.

“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed softly, stroking your cheek. You felt it then, that deep, aching feeling that had threaded itself into the very marrow of your bones.

Longing. You longed for his presence, his smile, his touch. You longed to hold his heart in your hands again, and give him yours in exchange. You had missed him more than you could bear, and here he was, telling you his heart was where it had always been, sitting in the centre of your palm.

Perfect moments didn’t exist, but damn did this one come close.

“Come here,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling you into him.

His mouth was just as sweet as you remembered. His lips were a little rougher, slightly chapped from the cold. His kiss was slow and patient, taking his time to explore the shape of your mouth and mould to it again. You felt his smile, the slight tension in his bottom lip giving him away, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, a quiet giggle bubbling in your chest before escaping through your lips.

“I really fucking missed you,” you mumbled against his mouth, another giggle accompanying the words. “You kissed me and then you were on a plane to the other side of the world.”

“I told you I’d see you when I was back, didn’t I?” he reminded, giving your waist a small squeeze. “And for the record, you kissed me. Not that it matters.”

You swatted a hand against his chest. “I see you still care too much about technicalities.”

Jaehyun only laughed, that deep and familiar sound you had craved to hear for the last 3 months. He pulled your hands into his warm ones, and pressed his lips to your knuckles.

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around yours.

“Well, I was about to head back inside when you found me. It’s nice and toasty in there.”

“Do you want to go in now?”

You looped your arms around his neck and buried your head into the crook of it. “Let’s just stay out here for a little bit longer,” you said, words muffled by the fabric of his coat. “You always run hot in the colder months anyways. Enough to keep me warm.”

He hummed in agreement, holding you flush against him as the snow fell around you. In his arms, you were the most at ease you had been in years, and the thought was almost enough to bring a fresh new wave of moisture to your eyes.

“What is that—something’s digging in,” he suddenly said, pulling away from you. His eyes landed on the pendant that had slipped out from underneath the lapels of your coat. Wordlessly, he reached for it, running his thumb across the pale pearl that hung from your neck.

“You kept this?”

“Of course,” you answered. “You kept yours.”

He smiled, a big one, dimples marking his cheeks. “Of course,” he repeated.

“We’re lucky, aren’t we? To have found each other again after all this time?”

Jaehyun’s reply took the form of another sweet and unhurried kiss. It warmed you from the inside out, all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“So we’re really doing this, right?” he asked. “We’re giving us a second chance?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you said all that earlier just for shits and giggles?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, squeezing your sides again. “I just wanted to make sure. I think I might lose faith in the world if you tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” you reassured. The snow was sticking to his hair, and you took a second to run your hands through it, brushing off the half-melted pieces. His eyes fondly followed your every movement.

“Good, because I plan on keeping you for a long time.”

You returned inside shortly after. The snow had picked up and it was clear that you couldn’t stay out for much longer (unless you wanted hypothermia, which neither of you did). The function hall was much emptier now than it had been when you stepped out, and of the remaining faces, none of them were familiar.

A quick glance at your phone showed a few unread messages from Joy.

joy [08:32 pm]: hey, had to leave, doyoung’s still working tomorrow so it’s an early night for me joy [08:33 pm]: hope you and jaehyun work things out joy [08:33 pm]: i’m rooting for you guys!!

joy [08:37 pm]: also can you see if jungwoo is okay joy [08:38 pm]: i don’t think he’s come out yet

“Can I ask a favour, just before we go?”

Jaehyun smiled back at you sweetly, devotion written in his eyes. “Anything.”

“Pop into the men’s room and check if Jungwoo’s still alive?”

Life was a funny thing.

“There are so few things in life that are guaranteed. Death, for one, and taxes, for another. Sorry if that was a bit dark and killed the mood. You can laugh, by the way. But I think everyone here would agree, neither of those two are all that conducive to happiness.”

Roundabout.

“So when the girl you’ve been chasing, for what feels like an eternity, finally gives you a second chance, you absolutely cannot take it for granted. You grab onto that chance with both hands, and even your teeth if you have to. It’s no guarantee for happiness, but it’s your best bet.”

Unpredictable.

“I’m not a God-fearing man, but I’m a God-believing man. I thank God everyday for bringing such a magnificent woman into my life.”

He raised his glass.

“Joy, you make me the happiest person in the world, and I can’t wait to be married to you.”

The crowd broke into warm applause as Doyoung finished off his impromptu speech by planting a kiss on his bride-to-be.

“He’s so good at talking,” you mused, wrapping your arm around Jaehyun’s. “If that’s his toast for this, I wonder what his vows will be like.”

A year ago, you would never have believed that you’d be attending your co-worker’s engagement party, much less with your ex-boyfriend who you hadn’t seen in 5 years. Spring had well and truly arrived, and with it came promises of love and new beginnings. The last rays of the April afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of the riverside art centre. The venue was gorgeous, floating on the edge of the river with unobstructed views of the skyline and where it met the water — as always, Joy knew how to pick a spot.

“I didn’t know she rejected him before they got together. He must have really liked her.”

Jaehyun gave you a crooked smile. “Four years of university, and he never gave up. Even when she started dating that blockhead from liberal arts.”

“I bet he would’ve felt like the luckiest guy in the world when she finally said yes to a date,” you said, watching as the happy couple shared a moment, giggling about something nobody else was privy to. Jaehyun followed your gaze and made a small noise of agreement.

“Not as lucky as I am to have found you again.”

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. You could’ve sworn there was stardust sprinkled into those pretty brown eyes of his.

Life was a funny thing, for sure. It had a funny way of bringing back things you once thought you had lost forever. You knew now that you had to seize them before they passed by. Who knew if they’d ever turn up again?

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Jungwoo set his glass down on the table with a loud thunk, lightly startling you.

“I’m right here. You guys know that, right? I am right in front of you.”

A sheepish smile was thrown his way. “Sorry.” You patted his hand once, softly. “Your time will come, I’m sure of it,” you reassured. “How did the date with the KU Business girl go?”

“I flaked,” Jungwoo said simply.

“No! Why?”

He sighed. “Blind dates are really not my thing. It’s too awkward. And it feels so superficial. Like, what if you have nothing in common, or there’s no physical attraction, or—”

Jungwoo paused, cutting himself off. “Actually, I’m not talking about this with you people. I’m going to get another drink.” With that, he turned and headed straight for the cocktail bar. You and Jaehyun gazed at him from behind as he walked off.

“I’m gonna be babysitting him again tonight, aren’t I?” Jaehyun asked, the question directed at nobody in particular.

“People are going to start wondering if you’re dating me or him.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “Should I give them a reminder?”

“My boss is standing right over there, so no.”

Junmyeon and Irene were still going steady, to your surprise. You’d probably be seeing more and more of him, since Joy and the rest of the Parks genuinely treated Irene like one of their own. The thought wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, but not awful either. Maybe you were warming up to him.

“Also, you should probably be careful about who you call blockhead,” you said to Jaehyun, holding back a smile.

He fixed you with a suspicious stare. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his head. The smile broke through, your cheeks lifting as you tried to keep the laughter from coming out. He, on the other hand, was thoroughly unimpressed.

“You should really watch your mouth,” he said lowly, though he was smiling. There was a look in his eyes that sent a jolt straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Or what?”

His hands were all over you before you even made it through the door.

“My beautiful, gorgeous, sexy girlfriend,” he mumbled, peppering your neck with kisses between each adjective. The keypad finally beeped and you pushed down on the handle, letting the door swing open as you pulled him in by the collar.

“Stop talking and just kiss me,” you sighed, dragging his face back up to yours. He was all too eager to comply, mouth slotting over yours with practised ease. His tongue brushed along yours in the way he knew you liked, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. Fire licked at your insides as he drew a light moan from you.

Four months in, the second time around, and everything with Jaehyun was still electrifying.

Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, finally succeeding with undoing the top one after a few tries. Hands came up around the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto his kitchen countertop. The marble was cool to the touch, and you felt it through the silk of your dress, a soft gasp of surprise flying from your mouth into his awaiting one.

“Been wanting to do this all day, ever since you put this thing on,” Jaehyun rasped. The heat of his body radiated into you from where he stood between your parted legs. He was so warm up against you, and he smelled so good, you were positively light-headed with desire.

His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You look so fucking good,” he said, teeth gently grazing the skin of your neck. “My pretty girl.” The quick press of his hips into yours pulled another moan out of you, and you braced a hand against the marble countertop.

Your fingers knocked against the edge of something sharp and sent it tumbling to the floor, where it landed with a heavier thud than you were expecting.

“What was that?” you forced out in between gasps. Jaehyun’s teeth nipped at your collarbone, showing no signs of letting up. “Wait, Jae, something fell on the floor.”

You had smashed a mug in your apartment in the midst of it once. Better safe than sorry.

Reluctantly, Jaehyun detached himself from you and bent down to retrieve the fallen item. He was breathing hard as he picked up a thick, padded envelope, and flipped it over to read the details.

“Photos,” he finally managed, tossing the package back onto the counter. “We can look at them later.”

His mouth was on you again, working at the spot between your neck and shoulder that always had your knees weak and toes curling.

“Wait,” you giggled, “my film photos? I want to see.” He had sent the camera off almost two weeks ago, and you had been (im)patiently waiting for the developed pictures to be sent back.

Jaehyun looked up at you with hooded eyes. “Really? You want to look at them now?”

You nodded.

A beat passed before his face broke into a lazy smile.

“Okay,” he chuckled softly, reaching for the envelope again.

There was a good stack in there. The ones on top were more recent, with a few shots from his birthday that had recently passed. You had taken him ice skating at the outdoor rink atop Namsan Mountain. The twinkling lights that hung from the trees surrounding the rink were still beautiful, even through photos. Jaehyun was good at so many things that it was unfair — how could he be so talented and have a face like that? — but on that day, you discovered that ice skating was not one of his strengths, and the bruises on his tailbone could attest to that.

“The colouring on these is really nice,” you murmured, flicking through the photos.

He hummed. “They are. This place doesn’t over-saturate the images, which is why I like them.”

A few more pictures from Christmas, where the two of you had set up a pillow fort — it had always been a childhood dream of yours — and stayed in watching movies for three whole days because it was too cold to do anything that required leaving the house. Funnily enough though, you had spent New Year’s Eve out in the cold with a few thousand others, waiting for the annual fireworks. There were a few shots of those as well.

You neared the bottom of the stack, recognising the blur of colours that formed the crowd of the jazz festival from last year.

“All of these are out of focus,” you complained, a pout adorning your lips. The shots of the stage, of the artists, even the one of Jaehyun and the cute face he made trying to fit the burger in his mouth. Only the two pictures of you were crisply defined, because he had taken them.

You flipped to the last photo. It was the one you took at the end of the show, during the closing bars of Lauv’s set. Miraculously, this one was in focus. You could see the press of your cheek against Jaehyun’s, and the slight surprise in his eyes as you had clicked the shutter. Lauv was nowhere to be seen, but maybe a clear shot of him as well would have been asking for too much.

“Can I say something cheesy?” Jaehyun asked softly.

“You’ll say it anyway.”

“I really wanted to kiss you. On this day.”

Strange, that it was these words which brought heat to your cheeks. Surely there were other things that would be more appropriate to blush about, instead of a months-late admission that was degrees more innocent than your current situation, where Jaehyun’s shirt was half undone, and the fabric of your dress was bunched up around your hips.

“I wanted to kiss you right there, in the crowd. And then I wanted to kiss you again, here, when you made that stupid ramen joke. And when you had that chilli flake stuck on the corner of your mouth.”

You set the last photo down on the counter and turned back to Jaehyun, who was still standing between your knees.

“And how about now?” you asked, the corners of your mouth lifting in a teasing smile.

He cradled your chin, tilting your face towards his, and let the pad of his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The crescent moon was high and luminescent in the sky when you caught your breath again, the last few waves of euphoria ebbing away through your body. Jaehyun always indulged you.

Maybe a little too much.

You turned to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of soap and his skin. A finger lazily traced over the ridges of his stomach.

“That tickles,” he mumbled into your hair. It must’ve still been damp from the shower, but he didn’t seem to mind. Fatigue was already tugging away at him.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, looking up at him.

He shook his head, just slightly. “I like knowing you’re there.”

You resumed your movements, but it was only a few seconds before Jaehyun was shifting, soft laughs filling the intimate space of his bedroom.

“That really does tickle,” he said, smile threaded into his voice. One of his hands reached for yours, pulling it up to rest against his chest. The gentle press of his lips on your forehead was a delicate thing.

You fell asleep like that, feeling the steady beat of his heart, quiet and sure beneath your fingertips. It was warm in his hold, and safe. There was no other home you needed to know.

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