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slut4hee · 5 days ago

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Red Lights

{Paring: Rockstar Sim Jaeyun x Groupie Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut, electric guitarist jake, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: Nightclubs, rock bands, and crowds of people has never been your thing, but it’s something about the Australian electric guitarist that keeps you running back for more. Finally after stepping out of your shell, you find yourself doing anything in your will to be noticed by Jake Sim, aka the lead guitarist of the band Red Lights.

{Warnings: explicit themes, hard dom jake, sub reader, reader has a thing for Jake’s aussie accent, jake has tattoos, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, ass spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), anal play , squirting, ass eating, nipple play, usage of handcuffs, fucking in a motel, lmk if I missed anything.

“Oh come on Y/n, please come. Just tonight please make an exception for your two best friends”. Nina and Bri, shouted at you through the phone, and begged you to go out with them tonight. You honestly didn’t feel like going out at all, you had just finished your finals, and all you wanted to do is eat a bunch of junk food and binge watch criminal minds.

“Guys I don’t know, I don’t think I’m really up for going out tonight, besides finals week has killed me I just rather stay inside tonight” Your best friends groaned over the phone, whining that you always come up with the same excuse every weekend, just for a reason to not leave the house. You would admit, you did feel a little guilty for always turning down your girls, but you vs big crowds of people just made the hairs on your neck stand up.

“But Y/n, this is one night you absolutely cannot miss, the 𝙍𝙚𝙙 𝙇𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 are in town for two days and this is our only chance to see them live!!” Nina squealed in excitement over the phone, you let a confused hum at the mention of the band Red Lights, you had no idea who they were.

“Who are the Red Lights?” You inquired.

“No! Y/n please tell you’re fucking joking right now” Nina gasped dramatically, at your oblivious of not knowing who the Red Lights are. You hear Bri burst into laughter over the phone, yelling at Nina saying “I told you she wouldn’t know who they were haha, drinks on you tonight sucka” Nina let out a fake cry before cursing under her breath

“Guys seriously who are the Red Lights?” You couldn’t help but be a little curious about who these people were, and how are they so popular, since they have your best friends begging on their knees for you to come to their show tonight.

“The Red Lights, are like THE rock band of all time. They sell out so many shows every year and they’re like hot asf you should definitely reconsider your decision Y/n” Bri said, the sound of her lips smacking coming through the line, indicating that she’s applying lip gloss to her lips.

“Here I’ll send you the poster, and the link to the show where you buy your tickets. If you’re still not up for it, then it’s all good, Me and Bri will just go and have the best times of our lives. Nina said, trying her hardest to persuade you, but not make it seem she was trying to persuade you at the same time.

Your phone dinged with the message from Nina, you clicked on it, opening the message. You gasped inaudible, as you took a good look at the poster, and holy shit your friends weren’t lying they are hot. The group consisted of 4 handsome men, Lee Heeseung the lead singer, Park Jongseong bass guitarist, Park Sunghoon drummer, and last but not least Sim Jaeyun electric lead guitarist.

You would admit, all of them were fine as hell, but there was one of the members that stood out to you the most. Sim Jaeyun, the lead guitarist, it was just something about his piercing gaze, and his striking facial features that intrigued you wildly. You could feel his intense aura radiating from the picture, and that’s how you found yourself agreeing to go out with your friends tonight all bc of Sim Jaeyun.

“Actually, you guys are right, i never get out of the house except for school and work so I think it’s time I do have some fun” you cringed at your own words, you couldn’t believe you were agreeing to going to a rock concert, at an underground club somewhere totally out of your comfort zone. You giggled at your friends cheering, and squealing in excitement, that you finally decided to go party with them.

“That’s my girl!! Don’t worry we going to have so much fun, plus you’re gonna love the Red Lights, their concerts are always a night to remember” Bri quoted, you honestly were a little excited, it was definitely something new and risky, and honestly you’ve been wanting to get out there a little bit more anyways but the fear of being judged raided your head like crazy.

“Great! Then it’s settled ladies, Y/n we’ll be there in 15, so don’t take forever and please for fuck sakes wear something that fits the occasion, not any of those Church girl dresses you wear all the time” Nina snorted, you rolled your eyes and sucked your teeth at the girl, it’s not your fault you weren’t too keen on showing off any skin and your curves.

You hung up the phone, and started to get ready. You searched through your closet, looking for something not too casual but something you would be comfortable with. You pondered and pondered, on what you should wear, and then it hit you, Bri had bought you a black mini dress for your birthday last year. You swiped through your hangers until you spotted the black piece, it was a little short but not too short, with a slit on the side and the top of it revealed a little bit of your cleavage.

You bit down on your bottom lip nervously, as you checked yourself out in the mirror. The dress hugged your curves tight, and your boobs sat up nicely. Before you could get any deeper into your thoughts, you heard a loud beeping of a car horn, indicating that Nina and Bri had arrived. You took one last look in the mirror, and took a deep breath, before grabbing your purse and walking out the door.

The wind of the cool night breeze, hit you instantly as you stepped outside, reminding you of the little amount of clothing you have on. You shivered a little, tugging the dress down, before walking over to Nina’s red Honda Accord. Your best friends gasped at the sight of you, it was such a rare occasion to see you dressed like this, and they were living for it.

“Holy fuck Y/n, you look hot as hell!” Bri and Nina screamed a little too loud for your liking, you gave them a playful glare and shushed them, reminding them you have neighbors and the least you want right now is a noise complaint.

“Sorry sorry, you just look so good girl! I knew you were hiding all that ass under those long granny skirts you wear all the time” Bri said, you rolled your eyes playfully at her before getting in the back seat.

“Buckle up ladies! It’s going to be a hell of a ride” Nina smirked, and giggled mischievously, before speeding off into the night. It was indeed going to be a hell of a ride….

꩜ .ᐟ

Finally you guys made it to the club, and the parking lot was full of cars, and the line was outrageous. You understand now why your friends made it very clear to get a vip ticket, for early entry and line cutting because if not you would’ve been standing out here like the rest of these people. The city was bustling, and the lights from the venue lit up the streets.

You could already feel yourself getting nervous and anxious, but you quickly reminded yourself you’re here to have fun, and not overthink and let your social anxiety get the best of you. All you needed, is a little alcohol in your system and you’ll be good to go, because there’s nothing like some good ole liquor courage. The bouncer scanned in you and your friends tickets, handing you guys your vip lanyards, as you guys made your way in skipping the long line.

As you stepped foot inside the club, you are immediately hit with a wave of heat, bodies packed together, the bass of the music blasting travels throughout the whole club, and the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke invades your nostrils. You made sure to stay very close to your friends, not wanting to take the risk of getting split up, that’s the least of your problems you need right now.

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get us some drinks, you two find a good spot by the stage, as close as possible please” Nina shouted over the loud music, as she made her way over to the bar to grab the drinks. Bri pulled you by the arm, as you guys made your way through the crowd of bodies. You honestly don’t know, how you two managed to get pretty close to the stage, but here you guys were literally two rows away from being barricade.

Not long after Nina came back with the drinks, you immediately took your drink out of her hand, and downed most of it. If you were going to survive tonight, you needed to not be all the way there and just let loose.

Suddenly the whole club went dark, and the crowd erupted into screams. You could feel your heart racing, and your palms growing sweaty, as the lights flickered back but this time they were a dark red color.

The stage started to light up as well, and you could see the members coming up from under the stage. Bri screams in excitement, pulling on your arm hysterically. You giggled at her reaction, and you even let out a little scream yourself.

Finally, the sound of an electric guitar echoed throughout the crowd, and you felt the adrenaline rush coursing through your body. The spotlight came on, and there they were, you stared at them in awe and you wondered if this was all some fever dream.

They looked so unreal, visuals out of this world, and the intense energy they let off was like no other. Your eyes landed on Jaeyun, and boy oh boy did your heart skip a beat, he was far more handsome in person and just how you imagined him to be. On top of that, his confident and dark aura was so intimidating and all too addicting.

“What’s up everyone, We are Red Lights!” The lead singer Heeseung spoke, you couldn’t help but check him out, his facial features and orange hair standing out. But that was quickly interrupted, when the man you’ve been anticipating seeing all night, spoke as well.

“Are you guys ready to go fucking crazy!” He growled, you felt a shiver run down your spine, and a throbbing ache starting to form in your core. A fucking Australian accent?! You thought to yourself, as you craved for him to speak more, you were a sucker for accents and Jake’s happen to be your new favorite.

As the show went on, you found yourself really enjoying their music, but you were enjoying Jaeyun way more. It was the way he played his electric guitar so passionately, and his stage performance was amazing, it was like he was born for this. There were times, you and him would lock eyes in the crowd, and it never failed to get your heart beating fast and your panties getting wetter by the minute.

Sadly the show had came to an end, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. You see why Bri said their concerts are a night to remember, and you would definitely remember this night. You genuinely had a great time, the Red Lights really know how to put on a show, and you already made up your mind that you will definitely be coming to tomorrow night’s show.

“Wow that was amazing wasn’t it” Nina shouted, slurring her words just a little, she was always kind of a light weight when it came to drinking, not taking much for her to feel the buzz of the alcohol.

“Sooo… How’d you like show, and what do you think of the Red Lights Y/nnie?” Bri inquired, holding up Nina by her arm, as the drunk girl wobbled and said incoherent words only she could understand.

“Honestly… I really enjoyed it, I mean their music is actually really good. You know, I was expecting it to be like the type of rock music, where all they do is scream” Bri chucked at your words, playfully pushing your shoulder.

“So, does that mean you’re on for tomorrow night’s show?” Bri winked at you. Of course you were going, and hopefully this time you could catch a certain someone’s eye, that certain someone being Mr sexy electric guitarist.

“Actually yeah, I do think I would like to come again” you nodded, Bri clapped her hands in excitement, and Nina jumped up and down, cheering in her drunk state. You couldn’t wait for tomorrow night!!

꩜ .ᐟ

“But Sir, you clearly stated you wanted a white chocolate mocha latte, with a double shot of expresso when you ordered” You said in your most friendliest tone, trying to keep your composure. These were the days, you really hated your job, and wanted nothing more than to throw in the towel but unfortunately you aren’t rich so you have to work for your money.

“No Miss! I clearly said I wanted a white chocolate mocha latte, and a double shot of an expresso on the side. Is this like your first day or something. The older guy raised his voice, and laughed sarcastically at you. You gripped the edges of the counter, taking a deep breath, before putting on a fake smile.

“Well my apologies sir, but you weren’t very specific with your order” You replied, you honestly wanted to scream and pull your hair out, why did you always get the grumpy old people who haven’t had their AM coffee yet.

“Are you calling me a dummy! Wow that’s so unprofessional on your behalf, young lady I demand to speak to your manager right this instant” The older gentleman complained, pointing his finger at you. At this point you were fuming with frustration, as you took a step back, to regain control over your emotions.

Luckily your manager came quickly, and took over the situation, and of course the guy changed his attitude quickly when a male was now present, fucking misogynist you thought to yourself. The doors to the coffee shop swung opened and two tall gentleman walked through them. Both had on mask covering their faces, and dressed in all black attire.

You don’t know why, you suddenly got the feeling that you knew them from somewhere, but you quickly shook that feeling off, greeting them and taking their order.

“Hello! What can I get started for you two” You said politely, while typing in your employee number on the register.

“What do you recommend, it’s my first time coming here” the gentleman with the black fluffy hair spoke up, your hands froze mid typing, and you looked up at him real fast. Why did his voice sound so familiar to you, almost identical to the male’s voice you’ve been daydreaming about at work all day.

“Umm w-well, we’re well known for our cappuccinos and lattes, but we also have really good teas” you stuttered, your heart starting to beat fast out your chest. The two guys looked at each other and you could tell from their eyes, that they were smirking.

“Well how about you, what’s your favorite?” the other guy replied, he was clad in a black hoodie, with red flames on it, but what you also noticed about him was his eyes. They resembled Heeseung’s eyes from Red Lights. You told yourself to snap out of it, and get a grip. There’s absolutely no way THE Lee Heeseung, and THE Sim Jaeyun, were standing right in front of you right now, asking about your go to coffee drink.

But they were….

“Umm well I’m pretty basic, I just usually get a latte or an Iced americano” You nodded, and they both nodded their head in agreement, chuckling softly before the one with the leather jacket pulled out his credit card.

“Alright, we’ll take two Americanos please” the one with the leather jacket said, handing you his card. When you went to grab it, you suddenly stopped, and looked at the rings on his finger. At this point, you knew for sure you weren’t imagining things, the rings he had on his fingers were the exact same ones Jake had on last night at the show

Yes, you were staring that hard….

“Something wrong princess?” He chucked softly, you couldn’t find your words, they were stuck in your throat, as you struggled to speak. That’s when the other gentleman leaned in, and whispered something into his ear. His eyes widened a little, but quickly turned relaxed and was replaced with a more playful expression.

“Ahhh I see, you know who we are don’t you?” He leaned against the counter. Your breath hitched at the semi close proximity, swallowing hard before replying.

“Y-yes, but I won’t make a scene I promise, I really like you guys music a lot” You were a nervous wreck, tripping over your words, and fiddling with your fingers. They both kept giggling and looking at each other.

“Haha thanks, did you come to our show last night?” Heeseung asked, you shook your head yes eagerly, then cringing at yourself for coming off so desperate. Jake finally pulled down his mask some, showing you half of his face. You melted on the spot, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“May I ask who’s your favorite, and will you be coming to our show tonight pretty” Jake said, smirking and biting his lips. You felt your knees go weak, and suddenly the air became hot, and you struggled to breathe correctly

Did he really just call you pretty?!

“W-well, I uh- well um, I really like you Jaeyun, you’re like so amazing” You slapped your hands over your mouth and widened your eyes, you didn’t mean to sound like a desperate fangirl, but him staring deep into your eyes had your brain malfunctioning.

“Oh really, is that so? Very cute” He smirked, before putting his card back in his wallet. You quickly made their drinks, almost fucking up in the process, because you could feel them staring a hole into you. You finished making their drinks and handed it to them.

“Here you are, please enjoy” You tried your best to sound confident. They both thanked you, but suddenly Jake grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles and you looked at him in shocked, as they grabbed their drinks.

“See you at the show tonight Y/n” Jake spoke one last time, before they walked out the doors of the coffee shop. You stood there, still in shock, as you stared at spot on your hand where Jake kissed. You couldn’t wait to tell Nina and Bri.

꩜ .ᐟ

The night came fast, and you were currently standing in front of Bri’s bathroom mirror, applying your makeup. You’ve decided, you really want to go all out, in hopes of gaining Jake’s attention. You went to the mall when you got off work, and picked out a black corset top, and a black mini skirt to go with it.

“I can’t believe you met them like face to face, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK” Nina’s said, her loud obnoxious voice making you laugh. You honestly still couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Yeah seriously Y/n, you don’t know how many girls will kill to be you right now!!” Bri singed, touching up her curls. You honestly did feel a little on top of the world right about now.

“Not only that, Jake fucking kissed your hand, he’s definitely into you girl” Nina wigged her brows, nudging you in the shoulder.

“Oh come on, a guy like him into me? He probably just enjoys seeing girls losing their shit over him” You didn’t wanna gas yourself up, only to get disappointed in the end. Jake was so out of your league, and had plenty of girls in line waiting to have a piece of him. There’s no way he would waste his time on a girl like you.

Little did you know….

Jake’s Pov

Jake knew when he first spotted you in the audience, he had to have you. You were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and not only that he could tell you weren’t used to coming to concerts or let alone clubs, just by the way you looked around like a lost puppy. He could feel, the innocence and curiosity, radiating from your body all the way in the crowd and he never felt so addicted in his life.

He wanted to swallow you whole, drain you of your innocence, and show you a whole new world out there. He couldn’t lie and say, he wasn’t taken aback, when he walked into the coffee shop and you were right there in all your glory looking gorgeous as ever. It took every thing in him, not to sweep you off your feet right then and there, and have his way with you.

But nah, he couldn’t make it that easy, he wanted to play with you first, get you all desperate for him which was never a challenge for him when it came to women. Jake knew he was good looking, and how easy it was to have any girl he wanted, so he used it to his advantage. But what Jake couldn’t quite grasp, is why did it feel different this time? Why does it feel like he’s genuinely into you.

Jake was always excited when it came time to perform, I mean why wouldn’t he? He loves what he does, and music is his passion. But in the back of his head, he’s a little extra giddy knowing that you’re going to be somewhere in the audience watching him, he hopes you keep your word and show up tonight. I mean, how else is gonna make his move on you, and get you in the bed tonight.

Jake was determined to have you screaming out his name tonight, and little did he know you were feeling the same way….

꩜ .ᐟ

When you and your girls pulled up to the venue, you instantly felt Deja vu, just this time you weren’t as nervous like before and you felt lighter, and more confident. You stepped out of the car, the cool night breeze welcoming you, as you guys made your way through the line of people. Just like yesterday night, it was packed like crazy, but vip ticket again hello.

You guys rushed in, not even bothering to get drinks, as the plan was to get barricade tonight and to your surprise the goal was achieved. You and your friends couldn’t help but feel giddy, boasting over being front row.

Not long after, the lights turned off and came back on, to the signature dark red lights. The crowd roars, and the energy is up instantly. The adrenaline rush, courses through your body, a lot more stronger since you’re in front of the stage. The members came up from under the stage, and you immediately start looking for Jaeyun.

You finally spot him, and what are the odds, he just happens to be on your side. Just like before, you stare at him awe, so fascinated by his godly presence. You locked eyes with him, and this time he winked at you and smirked, Nina also saw the interaction turning around and hyping you up.

As the show went on, you noticed that you had Jake’s attention, when you would look at him, he was already staring at you. And even this time, they went out into the crowd, and he made sure he passed by your section to hold your hand. When the show was coming to an end, and they were saying their goodbyes, Jake’s eyes remained on you, and you felt so small and imitated under his gaze.

The show ended, and you and your friends were getting ready to head out, but suddenly a gentleman with a mask and tattoos on his arms stopped you guys. Bri being the brave one in the friend group, she immediately was ready to tell the guy off, until the guy quickly spoke up introducing himself.

“My apologies for startling you ladies, but could you spare some of your time?” The guy asked, you all looked at each skeptically, before shrugging your shoulders.

“Sure what’s this concerning, you wanna buy us a drink or something?” Nina said confidently, never missing the chance to flirt with a hot guy. You and Bri looked at each other, and shook your heads.

“Haha I mean, I wouldn’t mind buying a pretty girl like you a drink at all. But actually I’m the manger of Red Lights, and I actually got word from the boys that they would like to meet you ladies backstage” Your eyes widened at his words, and you turned around and looked at your friends in shocked. You guys couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Like to meet them backstage?” You inquired, the guy nodded his head and said to follow him. You guys followed him to a back room, where it was labeled staff only and he opened the door and the members were all hanging out in there. You and your friends walked in, the atmosphere feeling heavy and awkward.

“Look who made it! Welcome beautiful ladies, come have a seat” Jongseong said, pointing at the space left on the couches. Nina sat by Sunghoon, Bri sat in between Jay and Heeseung, and then of course you had no other choice but to sit by Jaeyun. He patted the space next to him and you hesitantly took a seat.

“We meet again princess, see you couldn’t stay away” Jake said, looking at you with that look, that makes you wanna serve him like he’s your master. You swallowed down your nerves, before replying.

“Why would i, I mean you really know how to make a good impression Jake” You said confidently, flirtatious in your tone. Jake bit his lip, a habit you noticed he does a lot. He leaned in closer to you, stretching his arm around your shoulder, and whispered in your ear “Call me Jaeyun pretty girl” you almost moaned out loud.

His accent was the sexiest thing you ever heard in your life, voice smooth like honey, and the scent of his cologne invaded your nostrils. You wanted him so bad, never mind, you needed him so bad.

And that’s exactly how you ended up, messily kissing Jake, as the elevator moves up the floors. It dinged on the floor Jake’s room was on, and you both stumbled out the elevator, giggling and kissing each other like crazy.

Jake fumbled with the card, as he tried to put it into the slot, he was so fucking horny he could hardly think straight. You decided to help him out, giggling and inserting the card into the slot, and finally the light turned green and the door was unlocked.

Before you guys could get fully into the room, you were pulling Jake back into a heated kiss, pulling on the collar of shirt and rubbing your hands down his abs.

“Someone’s eager aren’t we?” He smirked, grabbing a handful of your ass, then landing a harsh smack to it. You moaned shamelessly, pussy soaking your panties already. You had been wet since the concert, and you really needed him to do something about it.

“Please, i need you Jaeyun I can’t take it anymore” You begged, grinding your pussy onto the fabric of his jeans. Jake groaned, his cock now throbbing in his jeans, fuck you were so perfect, he loved when a woman is desperate for him.

“Fuck baby, shit take off your clothes, i wanna see that sexy body of yours. But do it nice and slowly for me, i wanna appreciate every inch of you” He bit his lip, taking a seat on the bed.

You didn’t even have to be told twice, you started to slowly strip out of your clothes, swaying your hips slowly as you eased out of your thong and unhooked your bra.

Jake could’ve cummed in his pants at the sinful sight of you, you were truly a masterpiece, a body of a goddess.

“I want you to crawl to me slut, show me how bad you want this” You obeyed his command, dropping down to your knees, as you crawled to him, slowly and seductively. His gaze was intense, lust and desire, written all over his face. Your pussy is dripping wet, and your arousal is leaking down your thighs.

“Gonna show me what that pretty little mouth does huh? Be a good little girl and let Jaeyun fuck your mouth” You looked up at him with your big doe eyes, and nodded eagerly, you didn’t even care how shameless you looked anymore you wanted his cock.

He spread his legs open for you, as you started to unbuckle his belt, and he lifted his bottom up so you could take off his jeans and boxers. His cock sprang free, hard as a rock, and the tip red and leaking with precum. Your mouth watered at the sight of his big cock, it was long and thick, with veins running down the sides of it

“Fuck your cock is so huge, I don’t think it will fit all in my mouth” you moaned, pumping his cock, and smearing the precum off the head of his cock.

“That’s okay sweetheart, just take as much as you can, come on make me feel good” he grunted, hips bucking up desperately. You licked on his wet tip a little, teasing him before taking him into your mouth, sucking slowly. He threw his head back, exposing his perfectly sculpted jawline and neck.

“Fuuuk yeah, just let that, eat my cock baby” you moaned around his length at his vulgar remarks, the vibration of it, causing him to let out a loud moan. The taste of his salty precum on your tongue, was immaculate and you could feel his dick twitching inside your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, taking more of his cock in your mouth, as his tip reaches the back of your throat causing you to gag a little.

O-oh Shit yeah, deep throat my cock baby fuuuck yes” He groaned, pushing your head a little, as you sucked him off. Your pussy was throbbing, so you reached your hand down between your legs, rubbing your aching clit as you sucked Jake’s huge cock. He noticed, and pushed your head further down, cock going deeper into your throat.

“Who said you could touch yourself without my permission greedy little slut” he spat out, taking this opportunity, to grip your hair and fuck your mouth. You gagged, spit and his precum dripping on the sides of your mouth. You could tell he was getting close to cumming, his dick twitching uncontrollably inside your mouth.

He pulled his dick out, tapping your tongue with his length, before pulling his shirt off showing off his tattoos. Just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter. He came up and started kissing you again, tasting himself on your mouth and groaning at the taste.

Get on all fours baby, I wanna eat that pretty pussy from the back” He sighed out, lazy stroking his cock. You got up on the bed, arching your back, as you looked back at him wiggling your plump ass. Jake cursed under his breath, before making his way over to you, and rubbing his hands all over your ass.

“Fuck look at this beautiful ass, fuck just wanna take a bite out of it sweetheart” You whimpered, when he started to circle your clit with his thumb.

“Oh fuck please, please give it to me Jaeyun” You cried out, you were so turned on, it hurts. Jake smacked your asscheek, before putting his face in between your cheeks, licking and sucking on your pussy.

You let out a loud moan, his tongue felt incredible, knowing exactly where to lick, you could tell he was really experienced.

“God yes Jake, that feels so good please” You whimpered, back arching at the overwhelming feeling of his tongue, working wonders on your wet pussy. He was genuinely eating you out like a starved man, and you could tell he eats pussy for his own pleasure.

“Fuck this pussy is so good, sweet little cunt so tasty” He said muffled, as he started to lick your puckered hole. He could tell you never had your ass eaten, by the way you flinched at the contact. He couldn’t believe, nobody has ever tasted your sweet little ass before, but he’s honored to be the first one to get a taste.

“Does my naughty little bitch, like getting her ass and pussy eaten from the back” He smirked, licking a big stripe of your pussy, sucking on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You clenched around nothing, pussy fluttering, as he started to tongue fuck your hole.

“Fuck fuck fuck, right there Jake, please don’t stop I’m gonna cum” You whined, legs shaking and the band in your stomach, threatening to snap any minute. He landed a slap to your pussy, causing you to let it a pained moan, jolting forward.

“Call me Jaeyun baby, now be a good little whore and cum on my tongue” He spat, slipping a finger inside your tight pussy, fingering your gummy walls as he devoured your pussy. You screamed his name out loud, as your body felt like it was on fire, and the knock in your stomach unraveled.

“Jaeyun! Oh my god I’m cumming” You whined, coming undone in his mouth, squirting your essence everywhere. Jake continued to lap at your pussy, overstimulating you, before you pushed at his head because you couldn’t take anymore.

“God, I need to be inside you right fucking now” He growled, ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, you looked back at him, staring at his abs, and how his muscles flexed when he bent down.

“Face down baby” He said, before running off to grab something. He came back with handcuffs, twirling the black puffy object around his finger. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and you could feel yourself getting wetter, at the thought of your hands being restrained, as he fucked the living daylights out of you.

He pulled your body to the edge of the bed, spreading your asscheeks , as he rubbed the tip of his cock between your slippery folds teasing your throbbing cunt. You felt like you were going to die, if you didn’t have his cock buried deep inside you, pushing your ass against his pelvis.

He chuckled at your eagerness, before aligning his tip up with your hole, his cock slipping inside your tight pussy easily from how wet you are. He was big! You could feel him splitting you in half, his hard cock pulsating, as he started to rock his hips and forth.

“Oh Shit, yeah tight little pussy, squeezing me so good, he groaned, his pace speeding up, as he finds the perfect rhythm to fuck you deep. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he was able to find your g-spot immediately, gripping your waist tightly as he pounded you into the mattress.

“Jaeyun! Oh Jae, fuck me just like that. I love your cock so much baby fuck!” You cried out, throwing your ass back at him, as you desperately chased after his strokes. The sound of skin slapping, and the headboard slamming against the wall, echoed throughout the motel room, turning to on to the max.

“How does it feel, to be getting fucked stupid by a rockstar darling, feeling me deep in your guts” He pulled your body up from the bed, pulling your body flushed to his, as he pounded into you like mad man pinching and rubbing your nipples through his fingertips.

“F-feels so good, love being your little fucktoy so much” You whimpered, biting down on my lip harshly, as you took his brutal thrusts. He arched your back again, pushing your face into the mattress, as he let a glob of spit fall between your asscheeks. He smeared the saliva around your rim, then starting to slowly push his thumb inside your tight asshole.

“OH MY GOD JAE, I’m gonna cum, please let me cum on your cock I been so good for you” You slurred your words, your body trembling, and you could feel the band in your stomach tightening as you neared your high. You could tell Jake was close as well, his deep grunts, turning into whiny moans and whimpers.

“Fuck can I cum inside you baby, stuff you full of my cum, just to fuck back into your tight cunt” He growled, plowing into you, as his strokes started to grow erratic, fucking you into a oblivion. That sent you over the edge, the band in your stomach finally snapping, as you came hard for the 2nd time tonight.

Your orgasm triggered his, the tight clenching of your cunt, milking his cock for what’s its worth, as he shoots thick white ropes of cum inside you. His hips stuttered, completely emptying his balls inside you, and he collapsed on top of you, chest heaving up and down.

You laid there spent, body limp and weak, your hair is a mess and you looked so fucked out. So did he, sweat dripping down his forehead, as he tried to calm his breathing. The room was completely silent now, only the sound of you and Jake’s breathes could be heard.

This was the moment you dreaded the most, the awkward silence was so loud, and you didn’t know if you should get your shit and go. Or wake up to an empty bed, with no sigh of Jake.

“That was the best sex, I ever had in my life” You spoke up, breaking the silence, and trying to lighten up the mood. Jake hummed, staring up at the ceiling. You stared at him, admiring his side profile, he was so bad for you heart. Finally Jake got up from the bed, grabbing his jeans, and throwing them on.

You sit up in the bed, covering yourself with the covers, as if he wasn’t just balls deep inside you. You knew this was gonna happen, but some parts of you hoped would be different, but who were you kidding Jake’s a rockstar he has no time for dating.

“Are you leaving?” You asked him, even though you knew the answer to that, but still you were hoping he could prove your assumption wrong.

“Yeah I should head out, the band’s probably wondering where I am” He said nonchalantly, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Oh” Is all you said, a lump growing in your throat, as reality hit you hard that you were nothing but just another hookup for him.

“You should probably leave as well love, it’s not safe for a women to stay at these places by herself. He smiled at you, that damn smile you thought to yourself. Tears started to gather in your waterline, but you quickly wiped them away, and got up from the bed and threw on your clothes.

꩜ .ᐟ

You stood there awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers, as Jake checked out the motel, and tuned in the card. He turned, and looked at you, before giving you a faint smile and nodded his head towards the exit. You both walked out, side to side, the cold air hitting your legs.

Jake put his jacket over your shoulder, and kissed you on your forehead, and not long after a taxi cab was pulling up. Jake opened the door of cab for you, and you gave him a faint smile, before getting into the backseat of the cab.

“I had amazing time tonight princess, here’s my number, if I’m ever in town again we should meet up sometimes” he nodded, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad, you didn’t want this night to end, you just wished it could be different.

“Yeah I’d like that, be careful on the road Jake” Your voice cracked a little, trying to ignore the ache in your chest. He smiled at you one last time, before walking away and disappearing into the night. You finally let the tears fall, sobbing into your hands, you really fooled yourself this time

You don’t know if you will ever see Jake again, but until then, you can only cherish the memories of tonight….

A year later.

Your phone dinged with a notification, waking you out of your slumber. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, before clicking on the notification. Your heart stopped, when you opened the message, from someone you didn’t expect to hear from ever again.

Jaeyun: Hey love, I’m in town wanna meet up?🥴

The End.

A/n: The way I enjoyed writing for Rockstar Jake, I literally sobbed writing the end tho😭 but I really hope you guys like this fic, reblogs are greatly appreciated🫶🏽🩷 lmk if you guys want more fics like this in the future! Not proofread 🥲

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Taglist: @i03jae @ataver @ancnymcnzjy @slutforjaeyun @heebear @heeaxvhhoon @jaklvbub @jakeswifez @strxwbloody @meetletsinmontauk @eroqore if I didn’t tag you, it’s because it wasn’t working😭

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leejenowrld · 1 month ago

Text

‘love me back’ — four

pairing — mark lee x reader

word count — 33.3k words

genre — angst, smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love

synopsis — a tense confrontation exposes your secret relationship with mark, sending ripples of tension through your lives. whispers spread quickly, straining your friendships and mark’s relationships with his friends. despite this, you and mark grow closer, your relationship deepening to more intimate levels. but one moment of misunderstanding—one miscommunication—is enough to make it all begin to unravel.

chapter contents/warnings — college au, small town vibes, 2000s teen show vibes, this fic is heavily based on one tree, explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit themes, wall sex, rough sex, gripping, biting, and physically forceful actions public/party setting with a risk of being overheard or caught, y/n uses sex as a coping method, really soft sex, vanilla sex, emotional intimacy, soft giggles, soft breathing, hand holding, eye contact, confessions, intense party scenes, intense fights, y/n + mark go on campus together, they choose to go public, soft loving moments, mark takes y/n to river court, wholesome moments, tension between mark and his best friend, themes of guilt, betrayal, and emotional tensions, tense basketball practice as always

[fic ml]

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN

The pounding bass from the party music muffled the sounds of your heavy breathing and desperate moans as Mark held you firmly against the wall. His body pressed into yours, his cock driving deep inside you with unrelenting precision. Your back arched as you clawed at his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise.

“Fuck, baby,” Mark groaned against your neck, his lips trailing open-mouthed kisses over your skin, biting and licking between gasps. His breath was hot, his words strained as he buried himself deeper. “You feel so fucking good. So tight for me.”

Your walls clenched around him, the sensation drawing a guttural moan from his throat that made your thighs tremble. You could barely think, your focus consumed by the way his cock stretched you perfectly, each thrust hitting that spot that made you cry out. The coolness of the wall contrasted with the heat radiating from your bodies, adding another layer of sensation to the raw, frantic pleasure coursing through you both.

Mark’s lips found yours, kissing you with a fiery intensity that left you breathless, his tongue sliding against yours as his hips snapped harder, faster. “Don’t stop,” you whimpered into his mouth, your voice trembling as you dug your nails into his back. The tension building inside you was overwhelming, and you could feel the knot in your stomach tightening with every powerful thrust.

But then, the sharp ping of your phone pierced through the haze of pleasure. For a fleeting moment, you ignored it, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm of Mark’s deep, relentless thrusts. His hand slid down to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a possessive grip that sent a jolt straight to your core. He groaned low against your ear as you ground back against him, meeting every thrust with a desperation that matched his own. The curve of your ass fit perfectly in his hand, his grip tightening as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jawline, then back to your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses and bruising bites.

Another ping, and your eyes fluttered open. The sound pierced through the bubble of bliss you were in, dragging you back to reality. You tried to lean towards your bag on the floor, your hand outstretched, but Mark caught your wrist mid-reach, pinning it back against the wall.

“Don’t check it, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear before kissing you softly. “Stay with me. Let me make you feel good.” His voice was soothing, almost pleading, and for a moment, you let yourself give in, nodding as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist.

His thrusts became deeper, slower, as if to recapture your full attention. You felt every inch of him filling you, dragging against your walls in a way that had your toes curling. Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him back to kiss you, desperate to drown out the distraction. His groans mixed with your soft cries, the friction between you both unbearably delicious as the pressure inside you built again.

But the phone kept going off. Ping after ping. Each sound sent a chill down your spine, your anxiety creeping in despite the heat of Mark’s body against yours. Something felt off—a gut feeling you couldn’t shake.

“Mark, wait,” you finally whispered, your voice shaky. You pushed lightly against his chest, trying to break free even as your body screamed at you to stay. His brows furrowed, his thrusts slowing but not stopping as he studied your face.

“What is it?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hands stayed firm on your hips, grounding you. “You’re shaking. Baby, talk to me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip, before motioning toward your bag. “I just… I need to check my phone. Something’s wrong.”

His jaw tensed as he exhaled heavily, stepping back just enough to let you slip down from the wall. You winced at the emptiness as he pulled out, your legs wobbling as you bent down to grab your phone. Mark’s hands were on your waist, steadying you, but you barely noticed as your eyes scanned the screen.

Your heart dropped as you saw the flood of notifications—messages, missed calls and alerts have piled up on your phone. A cold dread seeped into your chest, replacing the warmth you’d felt moments ago. You covered your mouth with trembling hands, your chest tightening as you took in the flood of messages from Karina. Each one was a brick in the wall of a panic building inside you.

Your breathing grew shallow, your heart hammering against your ribs. The reality of what you were reading seeped in slowly but painfully, like ice spreading through your veins. The room now felt suffocating. You couldn’t focus on him, couldn’t feel the way his soft lips caressed against your skin, his body pressed close to yours. All you could feel was the weight of the words on your screen.

“What’s wrong?” Mark’s voice was soft, his tone tender, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. He kissed your temple softly, his hands never leaving your body. His presence was steadying, but the panic bubbling in your chest was threatening to take over. “Talk to me.” He whispers, hands cupping your face, trying to ground you.

You forced the words out, your voice breaking. “Karina—she… she’s flooded my phone with messages.” You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to breathe. “She told Jeno. She let it slip that we’re… that we’re exclusive.”

Mark froze, his jaw tightening slightly, but his concern stayed focused on you. “Jeno knows?”

You nodded frantically, the tears pooling in your eyes threatening to spill over. “He knows everything,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Mark’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t look angry—just steady. His hands slid to your waist, holding you in place, his touch gentle but firm as if trying to anchor you. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice calm despite the storm brewing inside you. “It’s fine. I’ll handle it. Just stay here. I’ll go talk to him.”

“No,” you said quickly, grabbing his arm. Your eyes darted to the door, imagining the scene waiting just outside. Your panic spiked at the thought. “I should deal with this,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him softly, your lips trembling against his. “I’ll come right back to you.”

Mark hesitated, his brow furrowing as he searched your face. “They’re all gonna be standing out there. I can’t let you deal with that by yourself, I won’t.”

His protectiveness made your heart ache, but you forced a small smile, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “Please, Mark. For me.” Your voice was low, almost pleading, and you saw the way his resolve cracked—his weakness was always doing anything to make you happy, no matter the cost.

He exhaled heavily, his hands tightening briefly on your hips before letting go. “You’ll come back?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the worry etched clearly in his expression.

“I will,” you promised, your voice faltering as you stepped back.

The door clicks shut behind you, and the muffled bass of the party is almost drowned out by the blood pounding in your ears. The guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders as you stepped into the chaos. Each step felt like a betrayal—to Mark, to yourself, to the fragile world you’d both built in secret. Your chest tightened further, shame and anxiety warring within you as you braced yourself for the confrontation waiting just ahead.

Each step you take feels heavier, but you push forward, scanning the sea of blurred faces in search of Jeno. It doesn’t take long—he’s already heading toward the room you left, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd, partygoers stumbling out of his way.

Jeno’s steps are purposeful, his jaw set and his fists clenched at his sides. His usually warm brown eyes are dark with rage and betrayal, his expression like a storm about to break. It feels like everything slows down when his gaze locks onto yours, confusion flickering across his features for just a moment before it hardens into something colder.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice unnervingly calm. Too calm. “We need to talk. Now.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry. Glancing briefly at Karina, who’s hovering nearby with a guilty expression, and Mark’s best friend, who looks like she’s bracing for a bomb to go off, you nod. “Okay,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

You lead Jeno away from the chaos, down a quieter hallway, your heart pounding with every step. Karina follows for a moment, her steps hesitant, but you whirl around and glare at her. The anger in your eyes makes her freeze.

“What the hell, Karina?” you hiss, your voice low but venomous.

“I didn’t mean to—” Karina starts, her voice desperate, trembling with guilt. She looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, her hands wringing nervously. “I swear, Y/N, it just slipped out. I didn’t think he’d—”

Her words falter as your gaze sharpens, cutting through her excuses. Without a word, you turn fully to Jeno, ignoring her completely. Karina clamps her mouth shut, realizing the futility of her pleas. Shoulders slumped, she walks away, her steps heavy with shame.

“I trusted you,” Jeno begins, his tone measured but heavy. “I told my dad he was lying. I defended you, Y/N. I believed you when you said nothing was going on with Mark.” His voice rises slightly, his composure cracking. “And now I find out you’ve been fucking him behind my back?”

Your face flushes hot with shame. “Jeno, it’s not like that—”

“Then explain it to me!” he snaps, stepping closer. “Make me understand why you lied to me. Why did you let me look like a fool for trusting you?”

You’re panicking, your mind racing for something, anything, that will diffuse the situation. The words spill out before you can think better of them. “It’s just sex, Jeno,” you say quickly. “It’s nothing serious.”

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. “Just sex?” he repeats, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“Yes,” you say, nodding frantically, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “We’re not exclusive. Mark’s seeing other girls, and I’m—” You cut yourself off, realizing how ridiculous it sounds even as the words leave your mouth. “It’s casual,” you add weakly.

Jeno scoffs, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “Ahhh, makes sense then,” he says mockingly. “Because, you know, a lot of girls are talking about wanting to fuck Mark.”

Jeno steps closer, his presence looming as his eyes search your face. “So you’re sure it’s just sex?” he asks, his voice sharper this time, pressing you like a blade against the wall. “You’re not lying to me again?”

Your throat tightens, the weight of his stare unbearable. You can barely meet his eyes as you nod slowly, weakly, the lie slipping out before you can stop yourself. “Yeah,” you whisper, the word catching in your throat. “It’s just sex.”

Jeno’s jaw tightens as he exhales sharply through his nose, taking everything in, his frustration is barely contained. “You know what really gets to me?” he says, his voice cutting through the tense air. “It’s not even the fact that you’re with Mark. Hell, yeah, I’d be pissed if you told me it was serious, but this?” He shakes his head, his tone growing colder. “It’s the lying. Over and over again. Making me look like an idiot for trusting you, for defending you against my dad.”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and unrelenting. You flinch, the guilt crashing over you in suffocating waves. Your chest tightens, and you open your mouth to respond, to say something, anything to fix this, but Jeno’s head shakes slowly, his calm veneer slipping. His jaw clenches, and his hands ball into fists at his sides, trembling with restrained fury.

Your lips part, but no words come. The weight of your guilt keeps your voice locked in your throat, and all you can do is stand there, frozen, as Jeno stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize the person in front of him anymore.

Without waiting for your response, he turns on his heel and stalks back toward the party, leaving you standing there, guilt and shame choking you like a noose. Your legs feel weak, and you lean against the wall, your head spinning.

The air feels heavy around you, suffocating, as if the weight of your lies to Jeno is pressing on your chest. You stay rooted in place for a moment, your thoughts spinning out of control. Regret mixes with guilt and a hollow ache, your mind replaying his words over and over.

Karina approaches you hesitantly, her hand reaching for your arm. Her face is soft with remorse, her lips parting to say something, but the moment her fingers brush against your skin, you shrug her off. “Just… don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling with exhaustion. You don’t wait for her response. Whatever she has to say, it won’t make this any better.

You don’t look back. Instead, you turn and walk away, leaving Jeno behind in the shadows of the quieter corner you’d taken him to. Your chest tightens, your pace quickening as a single thought pulses through your mind: Mark. You need him—his comfort, his touch, the way he makes the world feel smaller, safer. Your guilt feels like a raging storm, and he’s the only calm within it.

As you weave through the crowd, your steps falter for a moment when you pass Karina again. She calls out your name, her voice pleading, but you don’t stop. You don’t even glance at her, keeping your gaze straight ahead. The music pounds in your ears, and the noise of the party blurs into a dull hum as your focus sharpens on one goal—getting back to Mark.

Your guilt gnaws at you, whispering that you don’t deserve his comfort. You told Jeno another lie. You left Karina without so much as an acknowledgement. Yet none of it matters when you think of Mark’s arms around you, his warmth, his reassurance. The idea of his touch ignites a desperate craving in you, a visceral need to feel grounded again.

You find him exactly where you left him, his back leaning against the wall. His dark eyes light up the moment he sees you, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes in your expression. He’s always been able to read you too well. Before you can say anything, he’s already moving toward you.

“Baby,” Mark murmurs, his voice soft and laced with concern. His hands find your waist, pulling you close. “What happened?”

You don’t answer, your throat tightening as the chaos in your mind roars louder. Instead, you bury your face in his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around him. His scent surrounds you—familiar and comforting—and you feel his hand move to the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His words are like a balm to your frayed nerves, and you let out a shaky exhale, leaning into him even more. His hand moves to your hair, his fingers threading through it gently as if he knows exactly what you need to calm down. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch light yet firm, anchoring you in a way nothing else can.

You don’t know how long you stand there, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you afloat. The noise of the party fades into the background, the rest of the world ceasing to exist in the bubble of safety Mark creates around you. His hands never stop moving, never stop soothing, and you feel your heartbeat slowly returning to a steadier rhythm.

When he finally tilts your chin up to look at him, his dark eyes are filled with nothing but patience and understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it now,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “But whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod weakly, your throat still tight with emotion. He leans down and presses his lips to yours, the kiss soft and lingering. It’s not rushed or frantic, but slow and consuming, the kind of kiss that speaks of comfort and reassurance. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m here,” he whispers again, his voice steady and unwavering. “Always.”

You don’t have the strength to say anything back, so you just hold him tighter, hoping he feels the gratitude and longing in the way you press yourself against him. For now, being in his arms is enough. For now, you can let him hold you together even as the storm continues to rage inside you.

After a long moment, you pull back slightly, your eyes darting away as you muster the words. “I managed to calm him down,” you say, your voice softer than you intended. “It should be okay now.”

Mark leans back slightly, searching your face for a beat. “He’s calm?” His tone carries a hint of disbelief. “Just like that?”

You nod quickly, too quickly. “Yeah,” you reply, avoiding his gaze. “I told him it’s nothing to worry about, and he seemed… fine.”

Mark’s brows knit together as he tilts his head, studying you. “Nothing to worry about?” he echoes, the confusion evident in his voice. “That doesn’t sound like Jeno.”

You force a small smile, gripping his arm to redirect his attention. “It’s over now, Mark. Let’s not ruin the night talking about it anymore.”

Mark hesitates, the furrow in his brow deepening, but he eventually nods, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “Alright,” he says softly, though the faint edge of uncertainty lingers in his tone.

What he doesn’t know—and what you desperately try to suppress—is that you told Jeno it wasn’t serious with Mark. That it was just sex. That Mark was seeing other people, and so were you. The words had spilled out so quickly, a desperate attempt to deflect the weight of Jeno’s betrayal, to calm his anger, to keep the storm at bay just a little longer. But it was all a lie. A cruel, selfish lie that not only diminished what you and Mark had, but betrayed him in a way he’d never expect from you.

And now, standing here in Mark’s arms, the guilt gnaws at you relentlessly. It feels like a sharp claw digging into your chest, scraping against your ribs with every passing second. Your stomach twists painfully as the reality of what you’ve done presses down on you. You lied to Jeno to protect yourself, but in doing so, you betrayed Mark. And you didn’t stop there. You lied to him, too, letting him believe that everything with Jeno was resolved without telling him how you did it—or the price of that lie.

The guilt is suffocating, a heavy weight settling in your chest, stealing your breath. It clouds your thoughts, turns your skin cold, and makes your limbs feel heavy, as if you’re sinking into quicksand. The sting of your betrayal is sharp, because you know Mark would never do the same to you. He trusts you, and yet here you are, taking advantage of that trust.

You cling to him harder, burying your face in his shoulder as if that could shield you from the truth of your own actions. You try to focus on the way his arms feel around you, the warmth of his body, the steadiness of his heartbeat. But even that comfort is tainted, because you know he wouldn’t be holding you so tenderly if he knew what you’d done.

Mark whispers soothing words into your hair, his fingers threading through it gently, but they only make the guilt worse. The weight of the lie grows heavier, coiling tighter around your chest, a constant reminder of the storm you’ve set in motion.

What you don’t realize is that this fragile calm, built on the weight of your lies, is merely the prelude to a storm far greater than you can imagine.

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the hallway, the noise of the party surges around you like a wave, jolting you back to reality. You move quickly, separating from Mark as agreed, your heart pounding—not from the music, but from the remnants of his touch and the lingering heat between your thighs.

The party is in full swing, the pounding bass reverberating through the walls, vibrating the floor beneath your heels. The air is thick with the heady mix of sweat, alcohol, and a haze of smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. Laughter and chatter surround you, bodies swaying in rhythm with the music, but it all feels distant. Detached.

It becomes clear to you that word has been going around that you and Mark are seeing each other. A few people have already approached you, their faces curious and probing, asking pointed questions. You’ve muttered blunt and uninterested responses, trying to downplay the situation, but each interaction leaves your skin crawling and your mind racing. The tension between wanting to protect what you have with Mark and not wanting to be exposed weighs heavily with each passing second.

You keep your head down as you navigate through the crowd, the pulse of the music syncing with your own frantic heartbeat. Mark had disappeared into the opposite direction, as planned, and you could feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, his breath against your skin. It takes everything in you to keep your expression neutral, to blend into the partygoers lost in their own worlds, oblivious to the tension simmering just below the surface for you.

The room feels stifling, the lights dim and flickering, casting shadows that seem to dance with your anxiety. Your throat is dry, your hands clammy as snippets of conversation float past you. Names are exchanged in passing, jokes about who’s hooking up with whom, the usual party gossip that you’re suddenly terrified might include you and Mark.

You make your way toward the kitchen, hoping for a moment to compose yourself. The smell of spilled liquor and faint cigarette smoke assaults your senses, grounding you in the present, but it’s not enough to shake the gnawing feeling in your chest. Your mind replays images of him over and over again: his hands gripping your hips, the way his lips brushed against your neck, the sounds he drew from you. You shouldn’t feel this exposed, but you do.

Oblivious faces pass you by, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if anyone suspects. If anyone knows. You glance over your shoulder instinctively, searching for him, but Mark’s nowhere to be seen—at least, not yet. You know he’s lingering nearby, waiting for the right moment to rejoin the chaos without drawing attention.

A hand brushes your arm, and you flinch slightly before realizing it’s just someone stumbling past with a drink in hand, laughing too loudly at a joke you didn’t hear. The world around you feels sharp and muted all at once, and the only thing grounding you is the faint memory of Mark’s whispered reassurances still echoing in your head.

It’s been two hours since you and Mark agreed to keep your distance, and somehow, you’ve managed to follow through. Barely. Your eyes keep darting around the room, searching for his figure even though you know you shouldn’t. The ache of missing him has settled low in your stomach, and the memory of his touch lingers like a phantom, teasing and relentless.

You glance around and notice people starting to head home. It’s late—really late. The crowd has thinned, and the air feels less suffocating. For the first time in what feels like hours, no one’s looking at you suspiciously, no whispered questions about you and Mark linger in the air. It feels safer, quieter. You let out a slow breath, thinking this might finally be the moment.

Grabbing your phone, your pulse quickens as you type out a message.

you — i need you. now. upstairs bathroom, second door on the left.

mark — fuck, baby, you sure you don’t wanna just go to my car? easier to get away with.

you — i promise we’ll be okay. jeno’s house is massive. no one goes to that side.

A soft smile tugs at your lips despite the nerves coursing through you. Your heart races at the thought of seeing him again. You glance around one last time, ensuring no one’s paying attention, before slipping through the crowd. The pull toward him is magnetic, impossible to resist.

Having been to Jeno’s house more times than you can count, you know the way by heart, even in the chaos of the sprawling mansion. The upstairs bathroom is tucked away in a quiet corner, and as you reach the door, your hands tremble slightly with anticipation. You slip inside, closing the door softly behind you, and wait. The minutes feel like hours, the quiet amplifying the heat bubbling under your skin.

When you finally see Mark’s figure rounding the corner, relief and excitement flood through you. It had taken him several minutes after you arrived, and you knew it was for the best—if anyone had seen the two of you slipping into the bathroom together, they’d immediately suspect the worst, and all eyes would’ve been on you. Without hesitation, you pull him by the arm into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly with a sharp click of the lock.

Before either of you can speak, your lips find each other, crashing together in a desperate, heated kiss. The door bangs shut behind you, but neither of you flinch, too consumed by the feverish need building between you. Your hands grip his shoulders as his arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Finally,” Mark mutters against your lips, his voice thick with impatience. His dark eyes lock onto yours, his fingers pressing firmly into your hips. “This place is like a fucking maze.”

You giggle softly against his lips, the sound muffled as his mouth moves with heated intent down your jawline, leaving a trail of scorching kisses that make your skin tingle. Your head tilts back instinctively, giving him more access as his hands slide up to cradle your face, his grip firm yet tender.

“You found me,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice catching as his teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“After getting lost a hundred times, yeah I did,” he teases, his voice low and playful, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The humor in his tone makes you giggle against his mouth, the sound melting into the space between you.

His hands roam over your body, gripping and pulling, and the frustration of those two hours apart is evident in every movement. “Missed you,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and rough as his teeth graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Missed you so fucking much.”

You shiver at his words, barely able to respond before he turns you around, pressing your front against the cool bathroom sink. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping the hem of your skirt and yanking it up around your waist. “No more waiting,” he growls, pulling your panties aside. You feel the hard press of his cock against you, and your breath catches as he positions himself.

Mark pushes into you with one swift, fluid motion, and the stretch has your mouth falling open in a silent gasp. The thickness of him fills you completely, a delicious ache building as your walls tighten around him. His low, guttural moan vibrates against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and strained, as if holding himself back takes everything he has. The sound of your wetness is obscene, mingling with your shaky breaths and the quiet whimper that escapes your lips as he bottoms out, his hips pressed flush against yours.

“You take me so well, baby,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your waist possessively, his thumbs digging into your skin. “So tight. So perfect for me.” Your legs tremble, a moan spilling from you despite your attempt to stay quiet, and his low chuckle vibrates against your neck. “Can’t stay quiet, can you?” he teases, pulling back slightly before driving into you again, the sharp slap of his hips making you cry out.

Mark’s hands grip your hips tightly, his nails digging into your skin as he thrusts into you from behind. Your palms press against the cold bathroom sink for support, your breaths coming out in broken gasps that barely keep up with the rhythm he’s setting. The music from the party pounds against the walls, but it does little to drown out the sound of your moans and the wet slap of his hips against you.

“Fuck, baby,” Mark growls, his voice thick with need as he leans over you, his chest pressing against your back. His lips find the curve of your neck, kissing and biting, muffling his own groans as he loses himself in the heat of you. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your response is nothing more than a whimper, your head dropping forward as he pushes into you deeper, harder. The angle sends a shockwave through your body, and your knees threaten to buckle, but his grip on you keeps you steady.

“God, you’re so loud,” he teases, his words ragged against your ear. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the next moan, but it’s futile. The desperation in his movements, the way he’s taking you like he can’t stand to be apart from you, pushes you to the brink. Your moans only grow louder, your body trembling as his pace becomes rougher, more frantic.

But outside the bathroom door, someone is listening.

Jeno leans casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Mark slip inside the bathroom earlier. He saw Mark go in alone and he believes that it’s just another girl meeting him there. His lips curve into a smug grin, his chest puffing with misplaced pride at his brother's growing reputation.

Internally, Jeno marvels at how things have shifted. Damn, Mark’s really making a name for himself, he muses. Two different girls in one night? Impressive as hell. He’s smug, thinking about how Mark— his brother, is thriving, winning both on and off the court. He’s not sure when it happened, when Mark shifted from someone he hated to someone he genuinely cares about, but he doesn’t fight it. Their relationship has come a long way, and for once, Jeno feels content with where they stand.

“That guy can’t go ten minutes without pulling someone,” Jaemin chuckles nearby, elbowing Jeno. “Man’s got it good tonight. Two girls in one night.” Jaemin references you and the girl he believes to be in there, nobody knows it’s you.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jeno replies with a laugh, shaking his head as he waits, fully expecting to tease Mark once he comes out.

“Guess all the cheerleaders want a piece of him now, huh?” Soobin adds, grinning as the others laugh.

Jeno smirks to himself as he leans against the wall outside the bathroom, his knuckles rapping lightly on the door. He isn’t sure if he’s doing it to wind Mark up or because he’s debating barging in—maybe both. Chenle’s voice cuts through the moment, teasing and light. “Yo, Mark, you good in there? Taking your sweet time, man,” he calls out, his tone teasing.

Inside the bathroom, Mark stiffens slightly at the knock but doesn’t falter. He doesn’t know that it’s Jeno and the guys on the basketball team on the other side of the door. The chatter from the party outside create a blur of indistinct noise, masking voices. Mark assumes it’s just another drunk partygoer trying to get in, too caught up in you to give it a second thought.

You, lost in the haze of your own desperation and need, don’t even register the knock or Chenle’s voice. Mark’s cock stretches you perfectly, each thrust making your body arch into him. The tension in the air between you is intoxicating, leaving no room for outside distractions. Every ounce of your focus is on the way Mark fills you, his rough groans in your ear, and the way his hands grip your waist as if he can’t let go.

The knock on the door persists, louder and more impatient this time, cutting through the haze of the moment. Mark barely glances toward it, his focus unwavering. “One minute,” Mark shouts in response, his voice rough and breathless. His tone gives nothing away, but his movements don’t falter. He keeps going, his pace relentless, too caught up in the moment to care about anything outside this bathroom.

Jeno exchanges glances with the guys from the team lingering nearby, all of them snickering and making quiet remarks about Mark’s prowess. Jaemin mutters something about how Mark never misses, earning a laugh from the group. Jeno nods in agreement, his chest swelling with a strange pride. Brotherhood. The thought amuses him. They’ve come a long way, and moments like this feel like they’re finally on the same page.

But then the moans inside grow louder, more frequent, and something shifts in Jeno’s expression. His smirk fades slightly as a sense of unease creeps in. He leans closer to the door, straining to hear. Another moan echoes, higher-pitched, almost desperate—and far too familiar. Jeno’s jaw tightens. Is it you? The thought is maddening, the possibility clawing at him. He tries to brush it off, to convince himself it’s not you in there. But deep down, the sinking feeling grows, refusing to be ignored.

Jeno’s stomach tightens, his fists clenching instinctively. No way. It can’t be… He shakes the thought away, trying to convince himself it’s just another girl. Mark’s seeing other people, right? That’s what you told him. The logic steadies him, but not for long.

Jeno leans closer to the door, his breath catching as he tries to make sense of what he’s hearing. At first, it’s just muffled groans and the occasional moan, but then Mark’s voice cuts through, rough and possessive. “You’re all mine,” Mark growls, his tone dripping with intensity. “This pussy—fuck—it’s mine. Always so tight for me, baby.”

Jeno’s eyebrows furrow, his smug smirk faltering as confusion begins to creep in. He glances around at the other guys still joking nearby, their laughter and teasing comments fading into background noise. His focus is razor-sharp now, every nerve on edge.

Then, he hears it—your voice. Breathless and high-pitched, crying out, “Daddy!” The word pierces through the haze, and Jeno freezes. His heart pounds in his chest as his mind races. No. No fucking way. He doesn’t want to believe it, but the sound is unmistakable. He knows your voice, knows the way it pitches when you’re about to cum.

Inside, Mark groans again, louder this time, and his next words are like a hammer blow. “You’re my girl… no one else gets to have you like this. No one else ever will. You’re mine, baby. All mine.”

That doesn’t sound fucking non-exclusive to me, Jeno thinks, disbelief twisting into anger as the words loop in his head, sharper and louder with each repetition. His fists clench at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he tries to process the weight of it all. You fucking lied to him. Again. The betrayal sits heavy in his chest, simmering and threatening to boil over.

Each possessive word Mark utters from behind the door chips away at his denial, solidifying the truth. Mark? With you? His thoughts spiral, flashing back to your earlier conversation—your insistence that you and Mark were seeing other people, that it wasn’t serious. The memory feels like a slap in the face now, the sting of your lie more painful than he’d expected.

He takes a step back from the door, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, rage, and betrayal. The way Mark spoke to you—raw, possessive, intimate—contradicted everything you had told him. The reality of it burns, each word replaying in his head as he struggles to make sense of how the two of you could have been hiding this all along.

You and Mark? The thought twists his stomach. How the hell did this happen?

The air in the bathroom is thick with heat and tension, every sound amplified by the closeness of your bodies. Mark’s hands grip your waist tightly, his fingertips pressing into your skin with a possessiveness that makes your breath hitch. His lips hover by your ear, brushing against it as he whispers, his voice a husky caress. “Mine,” he murmurs, the words dripping with a mix of tenderness and hunger. “Always mine.” He kisses the shell of your ear, his breath hot and tantalising as he coos softly, “You feel so good. You’re perfect for me.” Each word sends shivers down your spine, his touch and voice grounding you in the moment, making you forget everything but him.

Then the door bursts open.

It’s not until the booming voice of Jeno fills the space that the moment truly shatters. His voice is loud enough to rival the pounding bass of the party. “What the fuck is this?!”

The sound crashes through the room like a gunshot, so abrupt and jarring that you jump, your entire body tensing. Mark’s movements halt instantly, his breathing faltering against your neck as his grip on your waist tightens protectively. Both of you freeze, wide-eyed, as your heads whip toward the doorway.

Jeno stands there, his chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides, and his face twisted in a fury so raw and unfamiliar it sends a chill down your spine. The weight of his presence is suffocating, the sheer intensity in his gaze cutting through the heat and leaving only cold dread in its wake.

The heat drains from your face as shame and panic take its place. You scramble to pull your skirt down, your hands trembling as you try to smooth yourself out. Mark steps in front of you instinctively, his body taut, his jaw clenched as his gaze locks with Jeno’s. His voice is firm but cautious. “Jeno—”

“Don’t,” Jeno snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. His gaze burns into you now, cold and unforgiving, before flicking back to Mark. The silence that follows is suffocating, Jeno’s fists clenching so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Jeno, just—please let me explain,” you begin, your voice shaky as you step forward, but he silences you with a look so chilling it makes you falter.

His voice drops, quiet but deadly. “You don’t need to explain. It’s all pretty fucking clear.”

You can see the realization sinking in for him, the pieces falling into place with a terrifying clarity. His nostrils flare sharply, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths as though he’s fighting to keep himself from exploding. His jaw clenches so tightly it looks like it might snap, and the veins in his neck strain against his skin. His fists are balled at his sides, knuckles white, trembling ever so slightly, and the sharp intensity in his gaze makes it hard to meet his eyes without a shiver of unease crawling down your spine.

Its anger barely contained, simmering just below the surface, threatening to spill over at any second. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, cutting like a knife. “You lied to me. Again and again. Do you even know how to tell the truth, Y/N?”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jeno. I was just trying to avoid—this. This exact situation.”

His laugh is bitter, sharp. “This exact situation? You mean me finding out you’re fucking my brother behind my back?” His gaze darts to Mark, then back to you, and it’s as if the realisation hits him again, harder this time. “You had every chance to be honest with me. I trusted you. I defended you to my dad—do you even get that? He told me this was happening, and I said he was lying. That you wouldn’t do this to me.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What could you possibly say?

Jeno shakes his head, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m just so confused about what I heard in here. You two didn’t exactly sound like you’re fucking other people or keeping it casual.”

Mark’s head snaps toward you at Jeno’s words, confusion flickering across his face before realisation sets in. That’s why you told him you managed to calm Jeno down—you lied to him about your exclusivity. His brows draw together, and a flash of hurt ghosts over his features, quickly replaced by a tense stillness. He doesn’t say anything, but the silence is deafening. The subtle clench of his jaw, the tightening of his shoulders, the way his eyes search yours for an explanation—all of it weighs heavy, making your stomach churn with guilt.

“It’s not what you think—” you start, but Jeno cuts you off with a harsh laugh.

“Not what I think?” he repeats, his voice rising. “Mark’s in there saying you’re his girl, acting like you’re his fucking everything. So tell me, Y/N, what the hell is it, then?”

Mark finally speaks, his tone low but steady. “Jeno, I don’t think this is the time—”

“No,” Jeno snaps, his gaze narrowing at his brother. “I think it’s exactly the time. Because she made me believe this was nothing. She made me believe you two were nothing.” He turns back to you, his anger giving way to something deeper—betrayal. “Was it easier for you? Lying to both of us? Was it easier to just pretend it didn’t mean anything?”

Mark looks at you then, his eyes softening despite the obvious hurt lingering there. He doesn’t say anything, but the weight of his stare makes your throat tighten. He knows you—knows why you lied, understands that your intentions weren’t malicious, that you were just trying to diffuse the situation. But that doesn’t make it hurt him any less. And that realisation is almost worse than Jeno’s anger.

The silence stretches, the tension crackling like a live wire between the three of you. You feel trapped, your chest heavy with guilt as you try to think of something—anything—to diffuse the situation again. But the truth is, there’s nothing left to say.

Jeno’s anger isn’t just about you and Mark—it’s a culmination of everything he’s been bottling up for weeks, months even. The weight of his father’s expectations, the constant pressure to excel in basketball, the results he’s supposed to deliver and the relentless scrutiny from Sunwoo and Eric. It all comes crashing down at this moment.

But what makes it worse, what makes it personal, is that he chose to trust you over his dad. He defended you when Taeyong accused you and Mark of sneaking around, dismissing it as another instance of his father meddling in his life. And now, the realisation that his dad was right all along, that you let him down, feels like a betrayal he can’t ignore. It’s not just about Mark; it’s about the cracks in everything Jeno thought he could rely on, and right now, you’re at the centre of it.

Jeno rounds on you suddenly, his eyes blazing. “When did it start?” he demands, his voice low but sharp enough to cut. “Tell me, Y/N. When the fuck did you and Mark start seeing each other?”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, your heart racing. The words stick in your throat, guilt twisting in your chest like a knife. “The night we broke up,” you admit softly, your voice barely audible. The confession hangs in the air like a thunderclap, and Jeno cackles—cruel and sharp. The sound cuts through the tense air like a blade

“The same night we broke up? Is that when it happened? You hooked up with him that fast?” His words sting, each one designed to deepen the guilt that’s already suffocating you.

You lower your gaze, unable to meet his piercing eyes, your hands shaking as you clutch the hem of your skirt. The shame feels like a physical weight pressing down on you. “I didn’t mean—” you try, but the words feel hollow, insufficient.

“Didn’t mean what? To fuck my brother?” Jeno hisses, his tone sharp and laced with bitterness. “You really didn’t waste any time, did you?” He scoffs, his anger boiling over into something cruel. “What, are you just a slut now? Jumping from one brother to the next?”

The word lands like a slap, and your breath catches in your throat. He doesn’t mean it; you hope he doesn’t. But it still cuts deeper than anything else he’s said.

At first, Mark stays close, his jaw tight but his posture calm, watching the argument unfold without interfering. He doesn’t want to speak for you, respecting your ability to handle the situation, even though tension ripples through him with every sharp word from Jeno. But when Jeno’s anger boils over, his voice cutting harshly as he calls you a slut, Mark’s calm exterior cracks. He’s momentarily caught off-guard by the sheer intensity of Jeno’s words. His voice slices through the tension before you can respond. “Jeno, that’s enough.”

Jeno’s head snaps toward Mark, his glare darkening as if his anger has only grown. “You don’t get to tell me what’s enough,” he spits, his tone venomous. “This is between me and her.”

Mark doesn’t rise to the bait, his expression steady but firm. “You’re angry, and I get that. But don’t talk to her like that. You’ll regret it later,” he says, his voice measured but with a distinct edge of protectiveness.

Jeno scoffs, his fists clenching tighter. “Oh, I’ll regret it? How about you regret fucking my ex behind my back? How about that?” His voice rises, drawing more attention from the growing crowd.

Mark’s jaw tightens, and he steps forward, placing himself subtly between you and Jeno. “We’re happy, Jeno. And we’re serious about each other. We are exclusive,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The declaration seems to be the breaking point for Jeno. His eyes darken, his anger bubbling over as he steps closer to Mark. “You’re proud of that, huh?” he growls, and before anyone can react, his fist flies forward, landing squarely on Mark’s jaw.

That’s when you notice a large group of people that’s formed around the three of you. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Some people shout, others pull out their phones, the scene unfolding like a movie in real time. You rush forward, your hands trembling as you reach for Mark, but he doesn’t budge. His jaw is tight, and he stares at Jeno with a calm intensity, even as a faint bruise begins to form on his cheek.

“Mark, please,” you whisper, trying to tug him away, but he shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Jeno’s.

“I’m not going to fight you, Jeno,” Mark says evenly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “But you don’t get to call her names. You don’t get to treat her like this.”

Jeno glares at him, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched. “You think you’re better than me? You think you’re some fucking saint?” he sneers.

Mark steps closer, his voice lowering but losing none of its strength. “This isn’t about being better. It’s about respecting her. I get you’re angry but don’t take it out on her. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”

The confrontation is electric, the air charged with unresolved tension and emotions too volatile to name. Around you, people whisper and gawk, their eyes darting between Mark and Jeno, waiting to see who will make the next move. You can feel the weight of their stares, the judgement pressing down on you, but your focus is solely on the two men in front of you, both hurting in different ways because of you.

The tension in the room spikes as Jeno’s fist connects with Mark’s jaw again, the sickening thud drawing gasps from the crowd. Mark stumbles back slightly, his jaw tightening as he lifts a hand to wipe the corner of his mouth. He sighs deeply, his fists clenching at his sides as he straightened himself.

“Okay,” Mark starts, his voice steady but simmering with controlled anger. “Maybe I deserved that. I get why you’re mad.” He takes a deep breath, glancing at you briefly before his gaze sharpens on Jeno. “Actually, no. I didn’t deserve that.” His tone hardens. “You have no right to tell me who I can and can’t fall for. I don’t care if she’s your ex, and I don’t care if we got together the night you broke up with her, you were the one who left her all alone that night. Not me.”

The room grows quieter, the weight of Mark’s words cutting through the murmurs. Jeno’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing dangerously, but Mark doesn’t back down.

“It’s not like your relationship was healthy,” Mark presses, his voice rising slightly. “So don’t call her a slut and act all surprised she moved on so fast. She deserved better. She deserves to be treated the way I treat her. Take notes, Jeno, because what we have? It’s real. It’s not just a fling.”

Jeno’s eyes darken, his hands balling into fists as the crowd watches in stunned silence. Your heart pounds, the suffocating weight of all the attention making your knees feel weak. All eyes are on you, the judgment and whispers carving into your skin like knives. You feel like you’re drowning, desperate to shift the focus elsewhere, anywhere but on you.

And then Jeno’s voice slices through the tension like a blade. “And I fucking felt guilty about seeing your best friend behind your back, while all this time you’ve been fucking my ex behind my back, keeping it a fucking secret.”

The silence that follows Jeno’s words is suffocating, a deafening kind of quiet where everyone holds their breath, waiting for the inevitable fallout. His eyes burn with anger, his chest heaving as if the weight of his confession is both a release and a punishment. You know why he says it—why he chooses this moment to lash out, even though it places him in the exact position as you, betraying those close to him and going behind their backs. It’s desperation, an attempt to justify his own actions by leveling the playing field. He’s cornered, humiliated, and furious, and this is his way of clawing back some semblance of control.

Your own reaction is quieter, more internal. You knew this moment would come, knew Mark would find out eventually, but the way it’s unfolding—so public, so raw—makes your chest tighten with guilt and fear. You can’t stop glancing at him, reading every twitch of his jaw, every flicker of emotion in his eyes. You want to speak, to explain, but the words catch in your throat. All you can do is stand there, rooted to the spot, as the crowd drinks in the drama unfolding before them.

The crowd’s reaction is a mix of shock and barely concealed excitement. Gasps ripple through the group, followed by low murmurs and exchanged glances. The buzz of whispers spreads like wildfire. It’s the kind of spectacle people live for, a front-row seat to chaos. Mark’s best friend, who had been hanging back, looks like she’s been slapped. Her face flushes red, a mix of anger and embarrassment flickering across her features. She’s trying to disappear into the background, but the weight of the accusation makes that impossible. She stares at Jeno, then at Mark, her mouth opening as if to say something, but no words come out. The betrayal she feels is written all over her face, her shoulders hunched as if shielding herself from the collective judgment of the crowd.

Mark’s reaction is what scares you the most. It’s immediate but layered. His brows knit together in confusion at first, processing the weight of Jeno’s words. Slowly, his expression shifts—his jaw tightening, the veins in his neck becoming more pronounced. His chest heaves, his mouth parts slightly, and for a terrifying moment, he’s silent. His eyes, usually warm and soft when they’re on you, turn dark and stormy as they flick to Jeno’s best friend, who stands frozen, guilt etched into her face. She mutters an apology, shaking her head frantically as if trying to plead with Mark to calm down.

You’ve seen Mark annoyed, even angry, but this feels different—deeper, colder. And you’re worried. Worried about what he’ll say, what he’ll do. You can see the gears turning in his mind, each revelation adding another layer of hurt and betrayal.

But it’s too late.

Without warning, Jeno’s fist flies again, landing hard against Mark’s cheek. This time, Mark doesn’t hesitate. He punches back, his fist slamming into Jeno’s jaw with a force that sends him stumbling. The crowd erupts in a mix of gasps and shouts, some people pulling out their phones again to record the chaos.

Mark steps back, his breathing ragged as he turns to you, his lip bleeding but his eyes softening momentarily as he reaches for your hand. But before he can pull you away, Jeno lunges at him, shoving him to the floor. The two of them crash to the ground, grappling and throwing punches with a rough, unrelenting intensity.

Mark grits his teeth as Jeno’s weight pins him momentarily to the ground. He throws a sharp elbow into Jeno’s side, using the momentum to shove him off, but Jeno retaliates quickly, swinging another punch that glances off Mark’s jaw. The sound of skin meeting skin is sickening, each hit fueled by frustration and betrayal. Mark counters with a rough shove, sending Jeno stumbling back, only for Jeno to lunge forward again, grabbing Mark by the collar and dragging him to his feet.

They’re both seething, their movements chaotic and unrelenting. Jeno lands a solid punch to Mark’s ribs, making him double over briefly, but Mark recovers fast, tackling Jeno into a nearby table. Glass shatters as cups and bottles spill onto the floor, and the crowd around them recoils, a mix of gasps and murmurs filling the room. Mark swings again, his fist connecting with Jeno’s shoulder, but Jeno grabs his wrist, twisting it away and shoving him back with enough force to send him skidding across the floor.

“Stop it!” you shout, your voice cracking as you step forward, but neither of them listens. Your heart clenches as you watch them fight, torn between defending your relationship with Mark and the remnants of your friendship with Jeno. Words fail you, the weight of the situation is too much to bear.

Jaemin and Chenle push through the crowd, their faces pale as they rush to break up the fight. “Enough!” Jaemin yells, grabbing Jeno by the shoulders and pulling him back, while Chenle grabs Mark and drags him to his feet. Both men are breathing heavily, their faces flushed with anger and bruises already beginning to form.

Mark’s eyes flick to you as you step forward, your hands trembling as you cup his face gently, your touch grounding him. “Let’s go,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. He nods, his jaw still tight as he takes your hand, ignoring the blood dripping from his split lip.

Together, you leave the party, the chaos fading behind you as you step into the cool night air. Mark’s grip on your hand is firm, protective, and you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you standing.

───────────────────────────────

The drive back to your apartment was suffocating in its silence, the hum of the car engine the only sound filling the space between you and Mark. Even as he parked, neither of you moved for a moment, both too caught up in the weight of the night. It wasn’t until he muttered a soft, “I’ll stay the night,” that you both finally stepped out, the tension following you like a shadow.

Inside, the low hum of candles flickered against the walls, their warm light casting soft, dancing shadows. The apartment felt quieter than usual, almost too still, the kind of silence that made every small sound feel amplified. Mark sat on the edge of your bed, his shirt discarded beside him, revealing the fresh bruises already forming on his torso. His lip was split, and a faint scrape ran along his cheekbone.

You moved toward him with the first aid kit, your chest tightening at the sight. You hated this—hated seeing him hurt, hated that it was always for you. Wordlessly, you dipped a cotton pad in wound alcohol, your hands trembling slightly as you knelt in front of him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking the silence like a fragile thread snapping. “You’re always getting into fights for me, getting hurt because of me.”

Mark’s gaze softened, his eyes steady on you as you dabbed the alcohol-soaked pad gently against the cut on his cheek. He hissed at the sting, his jaw clenching, and you immediately pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your voice quieter this time, guilt lacing every syllable.

Mark shook his head, offering you a small, reassuring smile even as his hands found their way to your waist, grounding you. “Don’t be,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. “I’ll always protect you. Always defend you. That’s not gonna change.”

His words should have been comforting, but instead, they felt like a dagger twisting in your chest. Every wince from him, every bruise you touched, felt like a punch to your gut, a reminder of the chaos you brought into his life.

How does he still look at you like that? you wonder, your eyes flickering to his face as his hands rest on your waist. Like you’re worth all this? After everything you’ve done—after lying to him, to Jeno, to yourself. You don’t deserve this.

“You’re too good to me,” you whispered, almost to yourself, as you moved to dab at the cut on his lip. He flinched, and your heart sank even further. “I hate seeing you hurt,” you admitted, barely holding back the tears threatening to spill. “I was so scared during the fight. Watching you get hit—it…”

Mark’s thumb brushes gently over your neck, grounding you in the moment. He leans in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering before he whispers, “Hey.” His voice is tender, steady, pulling you from the spiral of your thoughts. “I’m fine,” he murmurs softly, the reassurance in his tone making your breath hitch and your chest tighten with emotion.

Time stretched on after that. The room was quiet again, but this time, the silence felt heavier. Awkward. It never felt like this between you two. Even in your worst moments, Mark always managed to make you feel like everything would be okay. But now, the charged atmosphere pressed down on both of you, suffocating and unrelenting.

The revelation at the party hangs in the air like a storm cloud, filling the silence between you and Mark with unspoken tension. Of course, the campus now knowing about you two explains part of it, but deep down, you know this runs deeper. This tension isn’t just external—it’s something personal between the two of you.

You sit on the edge of your bed, fiddling with your hands as he leans against the wall, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. The low hum of a candle flickers on your nightstand, casting faint shadows across his face. You finally muster the courage to ask what’s been clawing at your chest since he brought you home.

“Mark,” you whisper, your voice trailing off so softly he almost doesn’t catch it. “Are you angry at me?”

He looks up, his expression flickering with something you can’t quite place. Then, he chuckles—a quiet sound that wasn’t meant to make you feel small, but it does. “I’m not angry,” he says, though his tone holds a subtle edge. “I just don’t understand why you lied to Jeno and said we weren’t exclusive.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you scramble to explain, unease clawing at your throat. “I only said that because I thought it would make him less suspicious of us. I didn’t want any drama or arguing, but I know I made things worse. I shouldn’t have lied.” A tear slides down your cheek, and you quickly brush it away, ashamed of your own actions.

He’s quicker, though, his thumb gently wiping the tear from your cheek. “I know why you lied,” he says, his voice softer now, though there’s still tension beneath it. “I just wish you’d thought about it first. Being exclusive with you means a lot to me, so it stings that you didn’t admit that to Jeno. I understand why you didn’t, but I’m still allowed to be hurt and confused by it.”

Your throat tightens, the weight of his words settling over you. “Being exclusive with you means a lot to me too,” you say, your voice cracking with sincerity.

Mark studies you for a long moment, his jaw tightening and loosening as if warring with his emotions. He looks somewhere between understanding and actually annoyed, a thin line that feels far too precarious.

“If you didn’t want to tell him we’re exclusive,” he says finally, his voice calm but pointed, “what does that mean for us? Is it because you didn’t want him to know we’re serious and risk his reaction? Or…” His gaze locks with yours, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. “Do you not take being exclusive with me seriously?”

Your heart sinks, and the tears come faster now, the floodgates bursting. “I was scared, okay?” you admit, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Scared of what Jeno would do, scared of losing you if things got worse. I panicked, and now I’ve made everything worse.”

Mark steps closer, his hands finding your waist as he kneels in front of you. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentler now, though there’s still a lingering hurt in his tone. “You didn’t lose me, okay? But you’ve got to stop letting fear make your choices for you. We’ll get through this, but only if we’re honest—with each other and with everyone else.”

You nod through your tears, leaning into his touch as the weight of the night finally catches up to you both. The tension doesn’t dissolve completely, but for now, his steady presence keeps you grounded.

Mark sighs, pulling you down with him onto your bed, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist as he tugs you under the covers. The weight of his gaze feels almost overwhelming, his eyes locking with yours in a way that makes your knees weak even as you lie beside him. There’s something so intense yet comforting about the way he looks at you—like he’s memorizing every detail of your face, like he’s anchoring himself in you despite everything that’s happened tonight.

The silence between you stretches, thick and heavy, until you break it by tracing the sharp line of his jaw with your fingertips. Your touch is light, almost tentative, as you follow the curve of his cheekbone, brushing your thumb softly over the corner of his lips. A faint smile tugs at his mouth as he catches your hand, holding it in his gently. “You’re just gonna stare at my lips?” he teases, his voice low but warm.

A quiet laugh escapes you, and you feel some of the tension ease. “They’re nice to stare at,” you murmur, your voice shy but honest.

His smirk deepens, but his expression softens as he shifts slightly, moving on top of you. The weight of him presses you into the mattress, and you gulp, your arms instinctively circling his back to pull him closer. Your eyes flicker to his lips again, the longing to kiss him tugging at you, but hesitation holds you back. Does he even want that right now?

Before you can overthink it, he leans down, cutting off your thoughts with the press of his lips to yours. The kiss starts soft, tentative, but it quickly deepens, turning feverish and consuming. His lips move against yours with a quiet desperation, and soft sighs and steady breaths fill the space between you, every second pulling you further into him.

When you finally pull back, your voice is soft and a little breathless as you whisper, “You’re still kissing me?”

He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing as if the question confuses him. “Why would I not?” His voice is steady, his words making your heart ache in the best way.

You lean up to kiss him again, melting into his lips. This time, when he pulls back, it’s his turn to speak. “I guess I’d be more annoyed if you lied about knowing about Jeno and my best friend and tried to act like you never knew,” he says after a moment of thought, his voice low but sincere.

A soft hum escapes you as you nestle closer to him. “I’m glad I didn’t go with that decision”

He huffs lightly, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Were you gonna?”

You shake your head, your fingers slipping into his hair, playing with the soft strands. “No. I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want any tension between us. You’re too important to me now, and I can’t lose you—not after I’ve let you see so much of me.”

His lips brush against you forehead, the kiss featherlight but full of meaning. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he murmurs, his voice low but steady. “You’re the most important person to me right now too.” His brow furrows slightly, and he sighs. “I’m still mad at you, though. And I don’t know how the fuck we’re gonna face Jeno after today. But it’s okay. We’ll do it together, hm?”

You nod weakly, your chest tightening at his words. He presses one last kiss to your lips before leaning back slightly. “Go to sleep, baby. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.” Without another word, you nestle into his arms, your head resting against his chest as his steady heartbeat lulls you to sleep.

───────────────────────────────

You groan as you reach for your alarm clock, shutting off the incessant beeping. Rolling over, you bury yourself deeper into Mark’s chest, his warmth enveloping you like a shield from the world outside. His scent—a mix of his cologne and the faint remnants of your body wash—grounds you, soothing your frayed nerves. “I don’t wanna go to campus today,” you mumble against his bare skin, your voice muffled and tinged with reluctance.

Mark’s hand moves up your back slowly, his touch light but firm, tracing lazy patterns with his fingertips. “Why not?” he asks, his voice still rough from sleep, the vibrations of his words rumbling softly against your cheek.

You let out a sigh, your shoulders sagging. “Everyone’s been messaging me. Everyone’s gonna stare at us,” you admit, anxiety coiling tightly in your stomach. The thought of all those eyes, the whispers, the judgment—it’s too much.

Mark tilts your chin up gently, his gaze steady and unwavering as his thumb brushes over your jaw. “We haven’t done anything wrong,” he says softly, his words a quiet reassurance. Leaning down, he presses a tender kiss to your temple, lingering there as if willing some of his calm to transfer to you. The kiss is light but deliberate, and the way his lips linger makes your chest ache in a way you can’t quite describe.

You stay in bed for a while longer, his arms wrapped securely around you as you steal soft kisses and exchange quiet murmurs. His lips graze over your hairline, the corner of your mouth, trailing along your neck as if grounding you with his presence. But eventually, the real world pulls you from the cocoon of his embrace, and you force yourselves to get up.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the two of you laugh softly at some half-forgotten joke, his hand brushing against yours as you walk. But the second you step inside, the warmth between you evaporates. Karina is standing by the counter, her posture stiff, her guilty expression painfully obvious as she busies herself setting out three plates of breakfast. The smell of toast and coffee fills the air, but it feels suffocating, too heavy for the sudden tension thickening the room. Mark’s hand instinctively brushes against your lower back, steadying you as your eyes lock on her. The air feels charged, fragile, like the slightest word could shatter the silence.

You stop in your tracks, your laughter fading. Rolling your eyes, you move to turn back toward your room, but Mark’s hand gently wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “Don’t,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes search yours, calm and reassuring. “You should talk to her.”

“I don’t want to,” you reply, crossing your arms defensively, your jaw tightening. “I don’t see the point.”

Mark’s grip on your wrist loosens, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “Do it for me?” he murmurs, his tone warm but tinged with quiet insistence.

You huff, your resistance faltering under his steady gaze. “Fine,” you mutter, your voice laced with reluctance. “I’m doing this for you. Only you.”

Karina’s gaze flickers up as you and Mark step into the kitchen, her shoulders tensing the moment her eyes meet his. Her hands, which had been idly tracing the rim of her glass, freeze mid-motion. The silence is thick, her expression unreadable at first, but her gaze lingers just a second too long on the way Mark’s hand rests lightly against your lower back. Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She looks away quickly, but not before you catch the flicker of unease in her eyes, the tell-tale flush that creeps up her neck and into her cheeks. Her fingers resume their fidgeting, now twisting the hem of her oversized sweatshirt, pulling at the fabric like she can’t keep still.

“Hey,” she says finally, her voice soft but strained, her words barely audible over the quiet tension filling the room. She doesn’t look at you again, her eyes fixed on a spot on the counter as if avoiding your gaze will somehow make the moment pass faster.

Mark murmurs a casual greeting, but you don’t say anything, your eyes narrowing as you watch her shift nervously from one foot to the other. Her entire body language screams discomfort—her shoulders hunched slightly, her weight shifting as though she wants to leave but doesn’t know how to. When she finally glances up again, her gaze flickers briefly to yours, then darts away, her lips parting like she wants to say something but can’t quite get the words out.

The knot of frustration in your chest twists tighter. You’ve caught this before— a mix of something unspoken, something that feels uncomfortably close to jealousy and longing. It’s subtle, but it’s there, thick in the air, her expression tightening every time she sees you with him. You’ve never brought it up, always brushing it off as your own overthinking, but now, standing in this tense, charged silence, your resolve crumbles.

Karina clears her throat, the sound too loud in the silence. Her hands move to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, but the motion is jerky, almost frantic. When she speaks again, her voice is uneven, like she’s forcing herself to sound normal. “So, um, how did you sleep?” The question is directed at both of you, but she doesn’t wait for an answer, her hand reaching for the glass in front of her. She grips it too tightly, her knuckles whitening, and takes a long sip, her gaze fixed anywhere but on you and Mark.

“So…. I’ll be in your room if you need me.” With that, he grabs the coffee Karina had poured and takes a bite of the toast she made, muttering a quick “Thanks” before leaving the kitchen.

Her stare lingers on Mark as he brushes his hand against your lower back as he leaves, the small touch protective and intimate, and it feels like that stare sears into your skin. The knot of frustration in your chest tightens, twisting painfully, and you can’t keep it in any longer.

“Why do you always look at us like that?” you ask suddenly, your voice sharper than you intended as you take a step forward.

Karina’s head snaps up, her brows furrowing. “Like what?” she asks defensively, though her voice wavers slightly.

“Like you hate seeing us together,” you bite out, the frustration spilling over, your emotions pushing past your usual restraint. “Like you don’t want me to be happy.”

Your voice trembles slightly, and the vulnerability in your own words makes your chest ache. Karina’s lips part like she wants to respond, but the guilt written across her face is undeniable. Her eyes dart away, and she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, avoiding the weight of your gaze. The room feels suffocating, the fragile thread of your friendship fraying with every second of silence.

Karina struggles to meet your eyes, her guilt evident in every nervous shift of her body. Her gaze darts to the floor, her lips pressed into a tight line as if holding back an apology she can’t quite voice. Her fingers fidget with the hem of her shirt, twisting and untwisting it—a tell she’s never been able to suppress. When she finally speaks, her voice is quieter, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay?”

You folded your arms across your chest, leaning forward slightly, the weight of her excuses pressing harder against your already strained patience. “Then why did you do it?” you asked, your voice sharp enough to cut. “Why would you go behind my back and tell Jeno of all people?”

Karina’s mouth opened and closed like she was searching for a response that wouldn’t make things worse, but her silence only made your anger simmer closer to the surface. “I thought…” she started, then faltered, biting her lip. “I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought if he—”

“You thought what?” you snapped, your voice rising as you took a step closer. “That it wasn’t messy enough? That maybe you should blow it all up for good measure?”

Her head jerked up, her brows furrowing, but the guilt in her eyes was unmistakable. “No! I swear I didn’t mean—”

“You knew exactly what you were doing, Rina. And honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did it because you don’t want us to be together. What’s next? Are you going to admit you have feelings for Mark?”

That accusation landed like a blow. Karina froze, her eyes widening briefly before narrowing in anger. “You’re unbelievable,” she said quietly, her voice trembling with restrained frustration. “Why the hell do you think everything is about you? You’re more delusional than I thought.”

The words hit harder than you expected, like a slap across your face, leaving your chest tight and your throat dry. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, the weight of her anger settling heavily in the space between you.

But Karina wasn’t done. She stepped forward, her own voice sharper now, edged with something colder than you’d ever heard from her. “You think I want your man? That’s what you’ve convinced yourself of? You’re so wrapped up in your own mess you can’t see past your perfect little bubble. Not everything revolves around you, Y/N.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, her words cutting through your anger and hitting something deeper, something raw. “You’re twisting this around,” you said, but your voice cracked, the weight of her accusations settling over your chest.

“Oh, am I?” she shot back, her words quick and scathing now. “You’re the one sneaking around with Mark. You lied to Jeno. You’ve been lying to yourself, to everyone, and you somehow expect me to clean it all up for you. Like I always do.”

Your voice rises, refusing to back down. “I’ve seen it—the way you look at Mark. It’s like you’re waiting for something to fall apart, like you don’t want us to work.”

Karina’s flush deepens, but instead of denying it outright, her frustration explodes. “You don’t get it,” she snaps, her voice trembling with emotion. “Everything just works out for you. You get Mark, you had Jeno’s trust, and even when you screw up, people bend over backward to forgive you. Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch you get everything while I’m left dealing with the fallout?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears, and anger flares in your chest. “Why now, Karina? Why does this matter so much to you?”

She exhales sharply, her tone cold. “Because you’ve dragged me into this, made it my problem. And maybe if you’d been more careful, Jeno wouldn’t have found out.”

The argument had reached its boiling point, voices echoing in the kitchen like thunder. Karina’s face was flushed with anger, her arms crossed defensively, while your own hands trembled at your sides. You shouted, your voice cracking with the strain. “You think I wanted this? You think I asked for all of this chaos?” Your breath hitched, emotions boiling over as you tried to steady yourself against the counter. “You’re just mad because for once, I have something good, and you can’t stand it.”

Karina’s laugh was bitter, hollow. “Good? You call lying to Jeno and dragging Mark into your mess ‘good’? Maybe Mark deserves to know just how selfish you really are. Or better yet—maybe he already knows.” Her words hit you like a slap, and before you could even think of a response, she stormed out, leaving you standing there, reeling. The finality of her words left a jagged silence in the air, and you felt your knees weaken as you crumpled to the floor, your breath hitching into sobs.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, curled into yourself in the corner of the room, the tiles cold against your legs. The sound of your phone vibrating against the counter barely registered, and when it stopped, you heard Mark’s voice calling your name. His footsteps grew louder, quicker, until he rounded the corner and found you there.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with urgency as he dropped to his knees in front of you. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Baby, I’m here,” he whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

Your shoulders shook as you broke down, burying your face into his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you, grounding you in his warmth as his fingers threaded through your hair. “Let it out, baby,” he murmured against the crown of your head, his lips brushing your skin with every word. “I’ve got you.”

His voice was steady, his presence a solid anchor against the storm swirling inside you. His hands moved to your back, firm and reassuring, drawing soft circles as he let you cry into him. The weight of Karina’s words, the fight, everything—it all spilled out in heaving sobs that left you trembling in his hold.

When the tears finally slowed, Mark didn’t rush you. He stayed quiet, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck as he tilted your head to meet his gaze. His eyes were warm, deep with understanding, and when he leaned in to kiss your tear-streaked cheek, you felt a sliver of calm settle in your chest. “Whenever you’re ready,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you tried to steady your breathing. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t,” he said softly, shaking his head as he pulled you even closer. “You don’t have to apologize. I’ve got you, okay? We’ll get through this —”

Mark didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before your lips crashed against his, cutting him off. It wasn’t soft, nor sweet—it was desperate, rough, and full of fire. Your teeth scraped against his bottom lip, your tongue forcing its way past his, and the kiss was messy, all-consuming. You straddled him in an instant, your nails digging into his scalp as you tugged his hair with a force that made him hiss against your lips. The sting didn’t stop him—it spurred him on. His groan was guttural, his hands locking onto your hips as you ground against him without hesitation.

“Slow down, baby,” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal, though there wasn’t a hint of true resistance in his tone. His grip tightened on your hips, trying to steady your relentless movements, but you didn’t stop. If anything, you pushed harder, grinding down until the hard length of him pressed perfectly against you through the thin layers separating your bodies.

You didn’t care about the consequences or about taking your time. All you wanted was to drown in the heat of him, to feel him in a way that would push out every other thought. Mark groaned again, his hips jerking up to meet yours. “Fuck,” he muttered, his head falling back as your lips left his to kiss along his jaw, then down to his neck. Your teeth scraped against his skin before you sucked hard, marking him, branding him as yours. The sharp gasp that escaped his throat sent another surge of heat rushing through your veins.

His cock strained against the confines of his sweats, and you made quick work of sliding your hands beneath the waistband. He was hot, hard, and heavy in your grip, and the way he hissed when your fingers wrapped around him was enough to make your thighs clench. Without a word, he stood, gripping your ass tightly as he carried you upstairs, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your lips never left his as he moved with practiced ease, making it to the bed without hesitation.

Mark barely had time to drop you onto the mattress before you were on him again, pushing him back until he fell onto the bed. You straddled him, your movements fueled by nothing but lust and frustration. With a sharp tug, you yanked his sweats down just enough to free him, your eyes darkening at the sight of him fully exposed and aching for you. The need in your chest was unbearable as you sank down onto him in one swift motion, your slick heat enveloping him completely.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice wrecked as his hands gripped your thighs tightly, his blunt nails digging into your skin. The stretch of him was intense, almost too much, but you didn’t slow down. You rode him with a rough, desperate rhythm, your hips slamming down against his with each movement. The wet, obscene sounds of your bodies echoed through the room, mixing with your sharp breaths and his guttural groans.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Mark growled, his hands sliding to your ass, guiding your movements as he thrust up to meet you. The force of his hips made you gasp, your nails raking down his chest as you leaned forward, capturing his lips again in another bruising kiss.

He tried to slow you down, murmuring your name as if to coax you into easing up, but you shook your head, your expression hard. “Don’t,” you bit out, your voice laced with irritation as you moved faster, taking what you needed. “Don’t try to fix this. Just—just let me.”

Mark’s jaw clenched, the muscles tightening as he realized what you were doing. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave marks, and for a moment, he let you take control, let you use him. But when you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear, and whispered, “Maybe I should ask for someone else’s help,” the tension in his body snapped.

“Maybe Jeno’s.”

Mark’s reaction was instant, a low, feral growl rumbling in his chest that sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could even process it, he flipped you onto your back with an almost primal force. His hands captured your wrists, pinning them above your head and the hard length of his cock grinds into you through the thin barrier of fabric. The dominance in his gaze was undeniable, his eyes blazing with frustration and unrestrained desire, the intensity making your breath hitch.

His lips curled into a dark chuckle, his voice dripping with mockery. “Is that so?” he murmured, his tone equal parts teasing and dangerous. “But that’s too bad, baby. Jeno probably can’t handle how needy you are all the time. Or maybe…” His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, “…I’ve just let you push me around for too long.”

Your pulse raced as his words settled over you, the heat in his tone both thrilling and unnerving. You met his gaze, defiance flickering in your eyes as you pushed back, testing the edge he was toeing. “And what if I did ask for his help?” you murmured, your voice trembling but bold. “What would you do?”

The air between you turned electric, the sharp press of his cock grinding against your soaked core making your breath catch. His hips rolled with deliberate force, the friction igniting every nerve as your thighs tightened instinctively around his waist. The sharp edge of his teeth grazed your jawline, a low, guttural growl rumbling from his chest. “You really want to test me like that?” he bit out, his voice a dangerous whisper, his hands gripping your hips to keep you pinned beneath him. The rigid heat of him pressed harder, dragging against your clit in a way that made your body writhe against him, desperate for more. “Go on,” he growled, leaning in so his breath fanned hot against your ear, his hips bucking just enough to make you gasp. “Ask for Jeno’s help. I dare you.”

Your teeth grazed his neck, sinking in just enough to leave a mark, and the way he tensed beneath you made your stomach flip. “You’re mine,” you whispered, your voice trembling with equal parts desperation and resolve. The possessiveness in your tone lit a spark in his eyes, and the dark, primal hunger that flickered there sent heat coursing through your veins. His body pressed harder against yours, his cock throbbing against your core, and the sharp inhale he took was pure, raw desire.

His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand even the slightest distance between you. Before he could speak, you clung to him, your nails raking down his back as you gasped, “But you won’t leave me, right?” Your voice cracked, frantic and pleading, every word a desperate attempt to anchor yourself. “You said—we’d figure it out together. Please, Mark. Don’t go. Please.” The urgency in your tone sent a jolt through him, his lips parting as his breath grew heavier. Without hesitation, he crashed his mouth into yours, the kiss consuming and feral, his hands roaming your body like he was trying to memorize every curve, every shiver, every moan.

The bed groaned under the force, matching the rhythm of his hips, and his grip on your wrists remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted you. Yet, despite the commanding edge, there was something sweet in the way his thumbs brushed your skin, his mouth trailing soft kisses along your jawline between gasps. His every move was possessive but laced with care, making you feel claimed and cherished all at once as he drove you closer to the edge, whispering, “Mine too.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice softer but no less authoritative. His eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your chest tighten, the vulnerability of being so exposed under his stare sending a thrill through your body. “I want to see you, baby. Every part of you.”

You couldn’t look away, even as the overwhelming pleasure built to a breaking point. His thrusts grew deeper, rougher, his cock hitting the perfect spot inside you with every movement. Your hands slid up to cradle his face, your voice trembling with affection as you whispered, “You’re so good to me, Mark. So perfect.” Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t bear to let him go. “I love how you make me feel,” you murmured against his lips, your words punctuated by soft moans, each one driving him to thrust into you with even more intensity.

Suddenly, Mark’s hips moved slower, deliberate in their pace, drawing a frustrated groan from you. Your nails scraped lightly against his shoulders, trying to spur him on. “Why are you going so slow?” you demanded, your voice laced with irritation as you attempted to grind harder against him.

His thrusts didn’t falter, staying maddeningly unhurried as his gaze locked on yours. “You feel so tense, baby,” he whispered, his voice soft but steady, a stark contrast to the heat between you. His hands moved to your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You shook your head, avoiding his eyes, your lips parting to deflect. “Mark—just—don’t.”

But Mark wasn’t letting it go. He stopped completely, his length still buried inside you, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I’m not going any faster until you tell me why that talk with Karina has you so upset,” he murmured, his tone calm but firm. “I need you to trust me, baby. Let me in.”

The ultimatum hung heavy in the air. You clenched your jaw, your body trembling slightly from the emotions bubbling up, but you stayed quiet, your eyes darting away. Mark’s thumb brushed your cheek, coaxing you to look at him.

“Okay, baby,” he continued, his voice softening further, “I’ll fuck you. But we’re not going to do that thing where we don’t communicate. I want to know you. Your feelings, your emotions, what’s on your mind. I want you to talk to me.”

His words caught you off guard, and your breath hitched, the frustration in your chest threatening to spill over. You hesitated, your lips pressing together as you tried to avoid the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare.

Finally, the tension broke, and your voice came out trembling, thick with the weight of everything you’d been holding in. “Our talk went nowhere,” you admitted softly, the words stumbling out like they couldn’t wait any longer. “The party, when she told Jeno about us, was my last straw. I don’t care if she made a mistake.” Your breath hitched as the memories replayed, her words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit.

“It’s been building for weeks, and then today, we just—screamed at each other. She said things—things I can’t get out of my head.” Your throat tightened, and you forced yourself to keep going. “She said I don’t deserve you. That you’ll figure out how selfish and what a liar I am—or that you already know. That you’ll leave me.” Each word hung in the air like a wound, the hurt laced with an underlying fear that maybe, just maybe, Karina had a point.

As the first tear slipped down your cheek, Mark leaned forward, kissing it away with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. His lips brushed against your temple, lingering there as his hand moved to cradle the back of your neck. “I’m sorry you’re carrying all that, baby,” he whispered, his voice warm and soft. “But you know that’s not true, right? You deserve everything. You deserve me. All of me. I wouldn’t ever leave you”

The dam broke, and a sob escaped your lips. Mark pulled you closer, letting you bury your face in his neck as the tears came. His hands stroked soothing patterns along your back, his presence steady and unwavering. “It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing the side of your head. “I’m here. Just let it out.”

As the tears spilled down your cheeks, Mark’s embrace tightened around you, providing a refuge from the storm of your emotions. He gently cradled your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. His hands roamed your back in slow, comforting strokes, each touch a silent reassurance of his unwavering support. “You don’t need to do anything to make me stay,” he whispered, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your hair. “I’m here, no matter what, through every high and every low. Just be here with me too, that’s all I need.” His voice was a calm anchor in the tumult of your feelings, reminding you that his commitment wouldn’t be tied to moments of happiness or intimacy alone, but was a constant, steadfast presence in your life.

You nodded, your voice still trembling. “I’m sorry. I just—I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Mark’s thumb brushed against the back of your hand, his touch grounding and steady. “Hey,” he started softly, his voice low and calm. “I’m not saying what she said was okay—because it wasn’t. But maybe try to see where Karina’s coming from. She’s probably feeling overwhelmed, maybe even cornered, and people say stupid, hurtful things when they’re angry. That doesn’t mean she meant all of it.” He paused, his gaze locked on yours, making sure his words didn’t come across as dismissive. “I’m not defending her actions, baby. I’m just saying… try not to let it eat you up. She’s been your friend for a long time, and I don’t think she really believes those things about you.”

He shifted closer, cupping your face with both hands as his thumbs brushed the tears lingering on your cheeks. “You don’t have to fix this right now. Let time heal everything, yeah? Give her space, give yourself space, and let things cool down.” His forehead pressed gently to yours, his lips ghosting over your skin in a comforting gesture.

You let out a shaky breath, Mark’s steady voice and grounding touch doing their job to ease the storm inside you. His words didn’t erase the pain Karina had caused, but they softened it, giving it a shape you could begin to understand. “You’re right,” you murmured, your voice small but earnest. “I know you’re right, but it’s so hard not to take it personally. Especially when she said those things about me not deserving you. It just—it really got to me.”

Your tears came harder, your sobs shaking your body as the weight of everything seemed impossible to hold in any longer. Mark stayed silent, holding you tightly, his presence grounding you as he pressed soft, reassuring kisses to your damp cheeks. His hands moved gently along your back, tracing calming patterns that made your breathing hitch but also steadied you. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. His touch, the way he kissed you softly, conveyed everything he wanted you to feel: that you weren’t alone, that he was here for you.

When he moved inside of you, it was slow and deliberate, his body leaning into yours with quiet intention. His hips rolled softly against you, deliberate but unhurried, each movement meant to comfort rather than overwhelm. His forehead rested against yours, his lips brushing tender kisses over your cheeks, your temple, your lips. “I want to make you feel good, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing, a promise that carried more than just words. “I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

Each thrust was unhurried but deliberate, his hands guiding your body as he moved inside you. He wasn’t just fucking you—he was holding you, grounding you, reminding you of everything he was for you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, letting yourself melt into the safety of his embrace.

As your cries softened into quiet gasps, he held you closer, his body a steady anchor against the storm inside you. The lewd, wet sounds of your connection filled the air, mingling with your breathless whimpers. His lips brushed over your ear, his voice rough yet tender. His strokes became slower, deeper, coaxing your body to relax completely against him. His name fell from your lips in broken whispers as his pace evened out, each thrust rocking you gently back into his arms.

Finally, when the exhaustion overtook you, Mark’s movements grew softer, coaxing you to the edge of sleep. He stayed buried inside you, his hands stroking your back, his lips pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you,” he whispered again, his voice a low hum that matched the soothing rhythm of his body. You mumbled his name in a half-asleep murmur, feeling the comforting weight of his body against yours.

“Baby, can you promise me something?” Mark murmured, his voice low and filled with earnest warmth as he held you closer, his steady presence enveloping you in comfort. His eyes locked onto yours, soft yet intent. “Can we always make sure to be honest and communicate with each other, no matter what?”

A wave of vulnerability washed over you at his words. A silent fear crept in, rooted in the complexity of your own thoughts—deep, sometimes dark, and intricate. You worried silently that the full extent of your inner turmoil might be too much for him, that the raw, unfiltered parts of your mind could push him away.

Mark noticed the slight tension in your expression and reassured you with a tender, affirming tone. “You don’t need to ever hide anything from me, you know I’ll always prioritize and understand you, right? You won’t scare me away; you won’t ever do anything to make me leave,” he whispered, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

Nodding. “I promise, baby.” You extended your pinky finger towards him, a small but significant gesture. He linked his pinky with yours, sealing the promise. As your fingers intertwined, Mark leaned in to kiss you softly, then playfully added, “You know, pinky promises are legally binding, right? You can’t break it now.” His light-hearted tease drew a soft smile from you despite the lingering tension from earlier.

Holding his hand, you kissed it gently, reaffirming your connection. Mark then pulled you into his arms, creating a safe haven as you nestled against him. You kept your hands interlocked, a silent testament to your need for his presence, your fingers tightly clasped as you drifted towards sleep.

As your breathing evened out, his warmth surrounded you, pulling you into a dreamless, comforting sleep. Mark stayed with you and inside of you, his hold never wavering, ensuring that even in your most vulnerable state, you felt completely and utterly safe.

───────────────────────────────

The morning light filtered softly through the windows, casting a golden glow over your room as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of your mini skirt. The fabric skimmed your thighs, perfectly accentuating your curves. Paired with a fitted tank top that clung to your figure and your favorite boots that added just the right edge, the outfit made you feel bold—confident in a way you hadn’t felt in days. It wasn’t your usual choice for college, but today wasn’t a usual day. You needed a distraction, for yourself and for everyone else.

“Is your plan to dress slutty to make people distracted so they don’t ask you about us?”

The deep, teasing drawl of Mark’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned, meeting his gaze as he leaned casually against the doorway. His smirk was lazy, but his eyes gave him away—dark, intent, and utterly fixated on you. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly as his gaze roamed over you, taking in every detail of your outfit with an intensity that sent a ripple of heat through your body.

“You like it?” you asked, your tone light but knowing.

Mark’s presence was a steady warmth as he comes behind you, grounding you in the moment. His fingers clasped the delicate necklace around your neck, the chain cold against your skin as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. You leaned back into him, letting his arms circle your waist briefly.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep my hands off you today,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice was low, sultry, and sent a shiver down your spine. His hands slipped under the hem of your mini skirt, the rough pads of his fingers gripping the curve of your ass possessively.

“Should I just take it off then?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

His grip tightened slightly, his voice deepening as he responded, “Yes, please.” The way his hands lingered made your knees weak.

“—And change into something else?” you finished, tilting your head to look at him. His lips quivered into a knowing smirk, but the tension was momentarily broken. He let his head rest on your shoulder. Unable to resist, you turned your face toward his, brushing your lips against his in a tender kiss. The contact started soft but quickly deepened, a spark igniting as his mouth moved against yours with deliberate pressure. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your face to his liking, the kiss growing hungrier, more intimate. You sighed into him, your lips parting to welcome the heat of his tongue. The exchange left you breathless and for a moment, everything felt simple again.

But simplicity wasn’t the reality.

“Let’s go now, you ready?” His voice was gentle, but the weight of his question wasn’t lost on you. Today was the first day back on campus since everything had changed—since everyone knew. Your relationship with Mark wasn’t a secret anymore, and the fallout had left your closest relationships in shambles.

You nodded, the tightness in your chest making it hard to find your voice. Although you looked calm, the emotions beneath the surface churned like an unrelenting storm threatening to break free. As Mark opened the door and you stepped out, the reality of facing campus settled in. By the time you reached the college after a short car ride, the sight of the familiar buildings had your stomach twisting in knots. You gripped the edge of your bag, your fingers trembling slightly. You felt like throwing up.

Mark’s arm slid around your waist, his touch firm yet soothing as he pulled you into his side. His body pressed against yours, his warmth acting as a buffer against the rising tide of your nerves. Leaning against the car, he cupped your face with both hands, tilting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. There was that look in them—one that made you feel like the rest of the world could fade away if you stayed close enough to him.

“Will you be okay if I hold your hand? Kiss you?” His voice was soft, his tone layered with concern.

You hesitated, glancing down at your intertwined hands. “Everyone already knows, Mark. What’s the point of hiding now?” Your sigh carried a note of resignation, your gaze flickering to the groups of students scattered across the campus, their eyes already beginning to wander in your direction.

Mark’s thumbs caressed your cheeks softly, his touch as reassuring as his words. “Are you sure? If you’re not ready for this, we can wait.” His voice was so tender it made your chest ache. “You’re all that matters to me. Not them. I just want you to be comfortable. I don’t care what anyone thinks as long as you’re okay.”

His sincerity pulled at the tight strings of your heart, and you nodded, touched by how deeply he cared. “I’m sure, baby. Yeah… okay. Let’s stop hiding.”

He smiled softly before leaning in, pressing a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t rushed or fleeting—it was a promise, one that calmed the chaos within you for just a moment. “Just squeeze my hand if you feel like it’s too much, yeah?”

Stepping onto campus hand in hand, the sun bathed everything in a golden glow, soft and warm against your skin. It should have felt like a fresh start, but instead, the whispers and pointed glances started almost immediately. Mark, ever aware of your unease, kissed your temple in passing and whispered, “You’re doing amazing. Just focus on me, okay?”

Still, the weight of the stares and hushed conversations started to press down on you. Your breathing quickened, your chest tightening as anxiety curled around you like a vice. You squeezed his hand tightly, your grip almost desperate. Mark immediately noticed, gently removing his hand to assess you, his brows furrowing with concern.

He guided you into the quiet corner he’d found, his hands steady on your shoulders, grounding you as the hum of campus life faded into the background. You could still feel the lingering stares, the weight of whispers clinging to your skin. The tension was suffocating, and your voice came out barely above a whisper, wavering with unease. “Mark,” you murmured, unable to stop your gaze from darting nervously around. “Everyone’s looking. Everyone’s whispering. It’s like they’re just waiting for us to fall apart.”

Mark’s expression softened, his brows furrowing as he gently turned you to face him fully. His hands slid from your shoulders to your waist, his touch firm yet comforting as he leaned in closer. “No one is waiting for anything,” he said softly, his voice steady but laced with determination. “People will talk, but that’s all it is—talk. It doesn’t matter what they think. No one’s looking at us like that. Everyone’s too wrapped up in their own lives. This will all pass, I promise. You just have to breathe through it. I’ve got you, alright?”

His words, so intimate and full of care, managed to pull you out of the spiral, and for the first time, you let yourself believe him. “Okay,” you whispered, the tension easing slightly.

When you returned to the open campus, you felt lighter, his hand back in yours. But the need for closeness overwhelmed you again, and without thinking, you squeezed his hand. Mark, misunderstanding, pulled his hand away again, only for you to grab it right back, intertwining your fingers tightly and leaning into him.

You laughed softly at his confused expression, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Not letting go this time,” you murmured, and Mark chuckled, his smile warm as he pulled you even closer.

Your gaze swept across the courtyard, heart pounding as you took in the scattered students milling about, laughing, talking, entirely caught up in their own worlds. For a moment, the anxiety threatening to consume you ebbed, replaced by a quiet realization—none of them mattered. Just like they were in their own world, you had yours. And your world, right now, was Mark.

With a steadying breath, you moved your hand from his and slid it around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Before he could question it, you leaned in and kissed him, hard and purposeful. The action was unplanned, raw, but it felt right. The connection between you sparked like a live wire, and for a heartbeat, Mark froze, startled by your boldness.

Then, just as quickly, he melted into you, his hands gripping your waist as he kissed you back with just as much intensity. His lips pressed against yours, eager yet tender, and his breath hitched as if he couldn’t quite keep up with the rush of emotion. The world around you blurred, students and whispers fading into nothing as he pulled you even closer, his grip firm but protective. It was just the two of you now, fully and unequivocally together—no hiding, no hesitation. You were his, and he was yours, for everyone to see.

───────────────────────────────

The late afternoon sun filtered through the gymnasium’s high windows, its golden glow casting long shadows across the bleachers. You sat with Winter, your cheer practice bag tossed carelessly at your feet. The buzz of practice filled the air—shoes squeaking on polished floors, low chatter, the occasional barked command from Coach Suh—but your focus was split. Winter’s sharp voice had dragged you out of your daydreams, and now you found yourself regretting it.

“So, I heard you and Mark started groping each other on campus,” she said, a smug tone coloring her words.

Your face flushed at her phrasing, irritation bubbling up immediately. “All we did was kiss,” you muttered, your voice clipped. You weren’t one for public displays of affection beyond holding hands or a casual kiss. Mark respected that, never pushing the boundaries, and you appreciated it. You weren’t sure why Winter made it sound so scandalous, but her tone had you instantly defensive.

“How’s it going?” she pressed, her curiosity too pointed, her gaze too observant.

“Good,” you replied curtly, hoping your brevity would end the conversation. It didn’t.

“Is he your boyfriend yet?” she asked, her tone lilting with feigned innocence.

You exhaled sharply, biting back the words you wanted to say: You know, it’s really none of your fucking business. Before you could give her a polite response, she barreled on. “You know, you should be the one to ask him to make it official,” she suggested, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

You stared at her blankly, unsure where this was going. She continued, “I mean, isn’t he always the one doing all the ‘firsts’? I heard he initiated your first time, plans all your dates, decided when you’d be exclusive… Maybe you should surprise him for once.”

Her words stuck, even as you bristled at the assumption. Winter wasn’t a mean girl, but her observations often felt more invasive than helpful, leaving you feeling exposed. Whether she meant it or not, her comment hit a nerve. It planted a seed of doubt you hadn’t realized was there. Had Mark been carrying the weight of your relationship all along? Did he ever feel tired of being the one to make things happen? What if he got sick of trying?

Your thoughts spiraled further when you wondered how Winter even knew so much. The answer was obvious: Karina. You had confided in her about so much—your highs and lows, your doubts and hopes—and now it seemed she had shared those details with others. The idea stung, a sharp pang of betrayal that simmered quietly under your skin.

Your gaze drifted toward the court, where the guys were joking and laughing between drills. Mark was talking with Jaemin, his grin wide and carefree, and for a moment, your heart softened. But then Coach Suh’s voice cut through the air like a whistle.

“Lee,” he barked. Both Jeno and Mark turned to him, but the coach clarified with a nod towards Mark. “You’re excused from practice today. You can go.”

Your brows furrowed as you watched Mark grab his bag and leave the court without much fanfare. Before you could process what had just happened, Karina’s voice broke through your thoughts. It was soft and measured, her tone at odds with the tension lingering between you.

“Y/N, you can go too,” she said. “Catch up at the next practice.”

You didn’t question it, grabbing your bag and heading out without a backward glance. Whether Karina did it out of spite or indifference, you didn’t care. Cheerleading was the last thing you wanted to deal with right now.

As you wandered the empty corridors, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and saw a message from Mark.

mark — come meet me by my car.

Curiosity piqued, you made your way outside. The parking lot was nearly empty except for his familiar figure leaning casually against the hood of his car. His arms were crossed, but his smile softened the stance as you approached.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, giving him a quick kiss.

“Why aren’t you in practice?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I asked Karina to work something out so we could both get out of practice and classes for the day,” he said with a small smile.

You felt a pang of irritation at her involvement, but you forced it down and smiled back. “And she managed to pull that off?”

He chuckled. “She can pull off anything, apparently.”

You wiggled your eyebrows playfully, trying to lighten the unease inside of you. “So, what’s the plan? You wanna take me home?”

He shook his head, his smile turning softer. “Not quite. I wanna take you somewhere. Come on.” He opened the passenger door, pressing a kiss to your temple as he gestured for you to get in.

You slid into the seat, your curiosity growing. Wherever he was taking you, you could tell it was more than just a simple getaway. And for now, you let yourself trust him, letting the tension of the day slowly melt away.

As the car slowed to a stop, it didn’t take long for you to realize where Mark had brought you. The river court came into view, the familiar chain-link fence surrounding the cracked pavement and faded lines. Basketballs echoed against the asphalt, accompanied by the faint sounds of laughter and chatter that carried on the breeze.

Mark reached over, his fingers intertwining with yours as you stepped out of the car together. “Come on,” he said, his voice soft but encouraging. As you walked toward the court, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, sensing the hesitation in your step.

When the sounds of his friends’ voices grew clearer, you turned to him with wide eyes. “Who’s here?” you asked, your tone both surprised and slightly nervous.

Mark’s smile was calm, reassuring. “I wanna introduce you to all of my friends,” he said, his expression warm as he glanced down at you.

You nodded, but your heart raced. Even though you’d been here once before with Mark, this felt entirely different. This wasn’t just the two of you stealing a quiet moment together—this was stepping into a world that meant so much to him, meeting the people who had shaped and supported him long before you were in the picture. The weight of the moment settled over you as the court came fully into view, the sacred space alive with movement and laughter.

Mark stopped, his eyes scanning your face. “You sure you’re okay with meeting them?” he asked, his protective tone laced with care. “If it feels like too much, we can leave.”

You took a deep breath, the tension in your chest easing as you met his gaze. His concern was so genuine it made your heart ache. Smiling softly, you squeezed his hand back. “I’m okay, I promise. I want to be here.”

His lips twitched into a satisfied smile, and he leaned down to press a quick, tender kiss to your temple. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. He led you forward, his hand never leaving yours, the small gesture grounding you as the court bustled with life.

The moment you stepped into their line of sight, all eyes turned to you. There was a beat of silence before Donghyuck’s smirk broke the stillness. “Well, well,” he drawled, raising his camera to get a shot of the two of you. “Lee’s finally brought a girl to the court. Everyone act normal, don’t scare her off.”

Chenle elbowed Renjun, his voice far from subtle. “She must be a saint to put up with him.”

Wooyoung’s laugh rang out, light and teasing. “Or maybe Mark finally got his shit together.”

You couldn’t help the mix of nerves and amusement bubbling inside you. Their jokes felt lighthearted, but you still clung to Mark’s presence beside you like a lifeline. Sensing your unease, his hand slipped to the small of your back, a soft but steadying touch. “Ignore them,” he murmured, his voice just for you as he guided you toward the bench. “They’re idiots, but they’re my idiots.”

You smiled despite yourself, leaning into him just slightly as he led you into his world, his fingers never letting go of yours.

The sun dipped lower in the sky as the game kicked off, painting the river court in golden hues. You perched on the bench between Donghyuck and Chenle, your laughter blending with the rhythm of basketballs hitting the pavement. Donghyuck leaned forward, his hands mimicking a microphone as he began his dramatic commentary.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the legendary river court showdown! Lee Mark with the ball, ready to either prove he’s a legend or will he trip over his own feet?”

You giggled, nudging Chenle. “Does he always do this?”

Chenle smirked, his gaze fond as he watched his friends on the court. “Always. He started narrating games when we were kids. Now he’s official at the matches, but this place is where it all began. It’s where we all started—me, Mark, Hyuck… this court made us who we are.”

You glanced around, taking in the faded lines and worn pavement. This wasn’t just a court; it was a piece of history, etched with memories. The warmth of their bond enveloped you, a reminder of how special it was to be here, to be a part of this world.

Your eyes caught Mark’s from across the court, and everything else seemed to fade for a moment. The way his gaze softened at the sight of you made your chest ache, your grin widening on instinct. Without thinking, you raised your hand in a small wave before blowing him a playful kiss. He froze mid-dribble, his hands faltering just enough for Wooyoung to swoop in, snagging the ball and making an effortless shot.

Donghyuck’s voice rose, gleeful. “And look at that! Lee Mark pauses mid-dribble to make heart eyes at his girl. Focus, Lee, focus!”

Mark’s jaw tightened as he glared at Donghyuck, but the edges of his lips betrayed him, curling into an irrepressible grin. His eyes flicked back to yours, and you could see the amusement—and something deeper—shining in them. It made your cheeks warm under the attention.

Chenle leaned in beside you, his smirk both knowing and mischievous. “So,” he drawled, voice low enough for only you to hear, “you’ve officially broken Mark’s streak of never bringing a girl here.”

Your soft laugh slipped out before you could stop it, tinged with the heat of your flushed cheeks. “I guess I have,” you murmured, the words carrying a quiet pride you hadn’t realised you felt.

Donghyuck, ever the instigator, caught the tail end of your exchange and immediately chimed in. “Breaking records and breaking hearts! But real talk —” His voice took on a conspiratorial tone as he leaned toward you, eyes glinting with playful curiosity. “Is she his girlfriend? The people need answers!”

Mark groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, his face tinged with embarrassment. “Can you not?”

Chenle pressed, leaning in conspiratorially. “Seriously, though. Girlfriend or…?”

Mark opened his mouth, but you beat him to it. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” you said confidently, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

The words hung in the air, and Donghyuck gasped, dropping his imaginary mic. “You heard it here first, folks! She claimed him!”

Mark froze mid-dribble, the ball rolling away unnoticed. His wide-eyed gaze locked onto yours, the joy in his expression unmistakable. “Wait, really?” he called, his voice cracking just slightly.

You nodded, heart pounding as his grin spread. “Yeah, really.”

In an instant, he was across the court, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into a deep, breathless kiss. The cheers and exaggerated gagging noises from his friends melted into the background. Mark’s lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands steady on your waist, grounding you in the moment.

“I need to hear you say it,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and warm, his forehead pressing against yours. “Ask me to be your boyfriend.”

Your voice trembled, but the words came without hesitation. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his lips crashing back onto yours. The kiss was harder this time, full of raw, unspoken emotions, his fingers gripping your waist as if to anchor you to him. It was your first kiss as boyfriend and girlfriend, and it felt monumental, like the entire court tilted just for the two of you.

Fueled by your words, Mark returned to the game with an energy that bordered on unstoppable. He dominated the court, each basket sharper, more purposeful. His grin widened with every point, the happiness radiating from him infectious. The other players groaned and cursed playfully as Donghyuck narrated with over-the-top enthusiasm. “And Lee Mark takes the crown! Powered by love, apparently!”

As the game wrapped up, Mark jogged over to you, slightly breathless but glowing with joy. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you close, his lips brushing your temple. “Told you it was the best game ever.”

Mark leaned in close, his breath warm against your cheek as he ducked his head to position his ear near your lips. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and your words were a whisper, low enough for only him to hear. “Can we go home soon? I want to suck my boyfriend’s cock, you know, as a reward for winning.”

His reaction was immediate, a stifled moan rumbling from his chest as his eyes snapped to yours, darkened with adoration and lust. His fingers squeezed your hand, grounding himself, and a smirk teased at the corners of his lips. “We will,” he murmured, his voice husky, “but come with me first.”

You barely had time to register his words before he clasped his hand firmly in yours, pulling you gently but purposefully toward the court. His steps were confident, his touch commanding, and you followed without question, drawn to him like gravity. He stopped in front of the hoop, his body close enough to block the breeze, his presence shielding you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, but when he retrieved the ball and placed it in your hands, realization hit.

“Mark—don’t make me shoot. It’s gonna be embarrassing,” you protested, laughing nervously.

His eyes held yours, steady and unwavering, and the intensity in his gaze left you breathless. “You’ve got this,” he said simply, shaking his head as if your doubts were ridiculous. He stepped behind you, his body pressing softly but unmistakably against yours. His warmth enveloped you, his chest flush with your back as his hands slid over your arms to guide you. The faint scent of his cologne surrounded you, woodsy and rich, and it made your head spin.

“Just like this,” he murmured, his voice low as his fingers adjusted your grip on the ball. “That’s my girl,” he whispered in your ear, the praise sending a rush of heat through you. His lips brushed your temple briefly before he straightened, his hands still steady on yours.

You tried to focus, making a few practice throws, but every attempt fell short, the ball missing by a mile. “You’re doing great,” he encouraged, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest as he stayed close. “Don’t overthink it, baby.”

His words only made your cheeks heat further, and your laughter bubbled out despite your frustration. “You’re gonna be saying that when I miss again?” you teased, your voice lighter now.

He chuckled against you, his breath tickling your neck. “No, I’m gonna make sure you get it this time.” His hands shifted on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body pressed firmly into yours. His touch was deliberate as his hands moved back to your arms, guiding you again, his voice low in your ear. “Relax. Breathe. Keep your eyes on the rim.” His fingers flexed against your skin, steady and sure, and the heat of him seeped through your clothes.

This time, with his hands guiding you, the ball arched perfectly through the hoop, the satisfying swish drawing a cheer from the boys. Mark’s grin widened. “That’s my girl. See? I knew you could do it.”

For the next shot, his hands left yours, though he stayed close, his chest still brushing against your back. He leaned down, his voice dropping into something deeper, something charged with promise. “If you make this one, I’ll give you a reward.” The tone of his words sent a shiver down your spine, the implication unmistakable.

You whimpered softly, your body reacting before your mind caught up. “Really? I think I might need more details,” you whispered back, your voice breathy as your gaze flicked over your shoulder to him. “Can you give me a hint about this ‘reward?’”

Mark’s hands gripped your waist more firmly, his body pressing into yours as his lips brushed against your ear. “Just feel me, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough and laced with promise. The hard, unmistakable press of him against you sent a wave of heat through your body, and when you instinctively pushed back, the low, guttural moan he let out made your breath hitch. His touch was intoxicating, each subtle movement igniting something deep inside you, but Donghyuck’s loud commentary from the sidelines jolted you back, forcing you to suppress a smile as you refocused on the hoop, fueled by Mark’s quiet, teasing presence behind you.

Mark moved to stand beside you, his voice firm but soft as he gave you pointers. “Feet shoulder-width apart, knees soft,” he murmured, his voice steady and calm. His fingers grazed your arms as he helped you position the ball, then shifted to your hips, guiding you slightly forward. “Elbows in, aim for a smooth arc, and don’t overthink it—just let it glide naturally,” he added

Your breathing hitched, Mark’s promise of a ‘reward’ was more than enough to push you. You took a deep breath, centering yourself. You aimed, focused, and released. The ball sailed through the hoop with precision, the swish drawing loud cheers and exaggerated commentary.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Donghyuck announced dramatically. “She shoots! She scores! Lee Mark’s girl just became the queen of the river court!”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, the happiness bubbling up in you so intense it felt like it might burst. Mark didn’t waste a second. He crossed the distance, cupping your face and pulling you into a kiss that was both deep and electric. “That was so hot,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with barely restrained need. “I’m so turned on.”

“Yeah?” you whispered back, breathless as your fingers curled into his shirt.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he picked you up, spinning you around as laughter spilled from your lips. The pure joy in your expression made his chest tighten, and he couldn’t help but kiss you again, harder this time.

From behind, Donghyuck’s voice rang out, “Look at this guy! So down bad for his girl. Get a room!”

Mark ignored his friends and their teasing, laughing softly against your lips, his forehead pressing to yours. His fingers traced gentle circles on your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as the world around you blurred into nothing but him.

───────────────────────────────

The surprise had come later than you’d expected, testing the limits of your patience in the best way. After leaving the river court, where the tension between you had already been palpable, you made an unplanned stop by the beach. The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, and for a time, the two of you simply sat together, hand in hand, basking in the quiet sanctuary of the moment. You had both even posted on Instagram, making your relationship public.

By the time you returned to his apartment, the longing between you had built to an almost unbearable crescendo. It only took minutes for his hands to find your body, for his mouth to claim yours, and for your clothes to scatter in a trail to the bedroom. Desperate to show your gratitude and admiration, you’d begged him to let you take him in your mouth, to show him how thankful you were for everything—the win at the river court, his unwavering care, his presence. But Mark had only cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he whispered, “I just want to be inside you, baby. I need to feel you.”

And now, with him buried deep inside you, every movement is a testament to that need. His cock draws soft whimpers from your lips that he swallows with a kiss, his mouth capturing yours like he can’t get enough. “Mine,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and full of adoration. You can feel the slight tremor in his grasp, betraying how much he’s holding back to savor every second of this. “Look at me,” he whispers, his voice low and firm, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes meet his, and the vulnerability in his gaze makes your chest tighten.

He pauses briefly, his lips brushing your temple first, lingering there with a tenderness that sends a wave of warmth through your chest. He moves to your forehead, pressing a firm, deliberate kiss there as if sealing a silent promise. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you tilt your head slightly as his lips travel down to the bridge of your nose, then to the tip, soft and teasing, making you smile despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. When his mouth finds your cheeks, he kisses each one slowly, as though committing the feel of your skin to memory. The sensation makes your breath hitch, your entire body tingling under the deliberate care of his affection.

His lips trail to the corner of your mouth, brushing over the sensitive skin before finally capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and consuming it leaves you breathless. He pulls back only to place a tender kiss on your chin, his eyes locking with yours as he smiles softly, his love and desire for you written in every touch. Each kiss feels reverent, grounding you, while the weight of his body against yours reminds you just how connected you are. The world fades away under his attention, the only thing anchoring you being the sheer intimacy of his touch and the heat radiating between you.

“You feel so tight, baby,” he groans, his hips pressing deeper, his movements unhurried but full of intent. Your nails press into his back as your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him even closer, your breath catching when his hand moves to cup your jaw, tilting your face back to claim your lips once more. “I love how well your body takes me,” he breathes against your mouth, his voice dripping with desire. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten instinctively around his waist, locking him closer as you meet his thrusts with soft, deliberate movements of your own. His cock fills you completely with every roll of his hips, and the way he watches you—eyes dark, yet so tender—makes your chest ache with something deeper than just pleasure. “Mark,” you whisper, your voice trembling as your hands slide up his back, nails grazing his skin gently. “You’re always gonna be mine.”

Mark’s response comes as a low groan, his hips stuttering slightly at your words. His hands slide down to grip your hips firmly, pulling you even closer, making sure there’s not an inch of space left between you. “Always yours, baby,” he breathes, his voice thick with need and emotion. He leans down, brushing his lips over your temple, your nose, and then capturing your mouth in a kiss so deep it makes your toes curl.

“My boyfriend,” you whisper, giggling softly, your voice light and full of joy.

Mark’s response was immediate—a deep, guttural moan that vibrated through him as he surged forward, burying himself inside you completely. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, your giggle dissolving into a soft gasp as he adjusted his grip on your thigh, pulling your leg higher and tighter around his waist. The angle allowed him to hit even deeper, each precise thrust leaving you breathless and clinging to him.

“Say it again,” he whispers into your ear, his voice thick with desire, his breath brushing against your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. His lips ghost along the shell of your ear before trailing down to the curve of your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses that make your breathing hitch. His hands slide up your sides, gentle yet firm, his fingertips grazing over your skin as if he’s memorising every inch of you. The warmth of his touch makes your chest tighten, and when you whisper, “My boyfriend,” it’s barely audible, your voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. A soft moan escapes you, and before it can fully form, his mouth captures it, his kiss deep and consuming, stealing your breath as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“Again.” He moans into your mouth.

“My boyfriend,” you murmur again, your voice trembling as soft, needy moans spill from your lips into his. His eyes stay locked on yours, dark and intense, yet brimming with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. The corners of his lips tug into a faint, knowing grin, and he leans in, pressing the gentlest kiss to your mouth, his tongue brushing over yours with a deliberate slowness that leaves you breathless.

His hands cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever held, even as his hips move against yours with an intoxicating rhythm. The slick, tight pull of your walls around him makes his breathing hitch, his lips brushing over yours in breathy whispers of praise as the quiet rhythm of your bodies fills the room. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together echo softly in the room, mingling with his deep, guttural groans and your breathless whimpers, your toes curling and your back arching against him.

“I didn’t expect you to make me your boyfriend—not that I’m complaining,” Mark murmurs, his voice soft but full of warmth. His eyes glimmer as they stay locked on yours, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m happy. So happy.”

You lace your fingers with his, bringing his hands closer to your lips as you kiss his knuckles tenderly, the gesture intimate and grounding. It feels like the right moment to explain yourself, the words spilling out as your heart races. “I feel like from the start we both knew it was always more than just sex,” you begin, your voice quiet but steady, filled with emotion. “I’ve been falling for you, Mark. I really have. You’ve made my days better in ways I can’t even explain.”

You press his hand to your chest, right where your heart beats wildly beneath your skin. “Do you feel that?” you whisper. “It’s what you do to me. Every time I’m around you, it’s like my whole body remembers how much you mean to me.” Your pupils widen as your gaze locks with his, and he tilts his head slightly, the corners of his mouth curving into a playful smirk.

He coos, brushing his thumb over your cheek, silent as he absorbs your words, fully aware of how rare yet precious these moments of vulnerability are for you. You hold his hands tighter, wanting to be even closer. “I would do anything to make you happy,” you say earnestly, your voice trembling with sincerity. “You’re the most important thing to me, Mark. It’s been difficult these last six months, keeping us a secret, and I know how much you’ve had to agree to for my sake. You’ve respected my pace, how anxious I can get… And I just wanted you to know I see that. I feel it. And I’ll always appreciate you for it.”

You take a breath, your hand brushing his neck gently. “I guess I felt like I wasn’t doing enough to show you how much I care. You’ve initiated so many of our firsts, and I wanted to do this for you. I wanted you to feel what I feel every time you remind me how much you care. I thought it would make you happy.”

“I want to make you happy the way you make me happy,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never felt this way before, Mark. Never.”

He leans into your touch, his smile softening as he presses his lips to your palm. “You do make me happy. In every way,” he says, his voice low and reverent.

But then, his breath catches, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you instinctively shift beneath him, your walls clenching tightly around his cock. “Baby,” he groans, his voice strained, a mix of pleasure and desperation, “don’t do that. I won’t last.” His head falls into the curve of your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispers for you to stay still. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down your spine, and you nod softly, grounding yourself in his closeness.

The stretch of him inside you is intoxicating, his size filling you completely, every inch of him pushing your limits but somehow fitting perfectly. He’s so big, so thick, the press of his cock against your walls leaving you feeling full and so warm. He stays still, buried to the hilt, his body flush against yours, radiating heat that seeps into your skin. The way he fills you is unlike anything else, a connection that’s both physical and emotional, his presence grounding you in the moment.

The two of you knew what this night would entail—slow, deliberate movements, soft kisses exchanged between gentle moans, whispers of love and quiet reassurances shared in the dim light of your bedroom. This night wouldn’t be about chasing release; it’s about savoring each other, the intimacy of simply being together. You’re more than happy for him to stay like this, his cock nestled deep inside you, keeping you warm and connected as his lips press soft kisses along your temple and down to your jaw.

“I want to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get scared,” he says softly, his voice steady but laced with emotion. The weight in his tone pulls you to reality, grounding you as his serious gaze locks with yours, full of sincerity and vulnerability.

Your stomach twists, and despite his reassurance this entire time, your breath catches in your throat. Your mind races, a familiar pang of fear creeping in. What did I do wrong? The moment had felt too perfect, too good to last. But then his next words cut through the haze of your doubt, wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m in love with you. I’m so fucking in love with you,” he confesses, his voice deep and unshaken, his gaze piercing and unrelenting. There’s no hesitation, no fear in the way he says it. His eyes lock onto yours, his expression so raw, so vulnerable, that you can’t look away even as the intensity of his words makes your chest tighten.

It feels like the world shifts beneath your feet, his declaration grounding and unmooring you all at once. You feel warmth spreading through you, an overwhelming swell of emotion that makes your throat tighten and your hands tremble. Love. The word itself feels impossibly big, heavy with meaning, yet his voice makes it feel lighter, softer—like something you could finally hold onto without fear of it slipping away.

And yet, there’s a small part of you that resists. You’re unsure whether you can call it ‘love’ yet. You’re not sure if you can claim that word yet, not sure if you’re ready to let yourself fully embrace it. The depth of what he’s said, of what he feels, terrifies you. You’ve spent so long second-guessing yourself, so long wondering if you’re worthy of this kind of love, of someone like him. His words are like a mirror, reflecting all the things you’ve been too afraid to believe about yourself.

He doesn’t rush you. “I’ve felt like this for a long time,” he continues, his tone gentle but insistent, like he’s determined to let you know exactly where he stands. “It’s something that’s been building in me for so long, and now just felt like the right time to tell you. You can feel it, can’t you? How much I love you?” His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, grounding you in the present.

You nod slowly, your eyes soft, pupils blown wide with a mix of nerves and something deeper, something unspoken but mutual. You lean into his touch, pressing your palm lightly against his. But it’s the silence that lingers between you that catches his attention, and it doesn’t surprise him. He knows you—knows your tendency to retreat inward when the weight of your emotions becomes too much. And he doesn’t take your silence as a rejection.

“You don’t have to say it right now, don’t want you to feel pressured” he says, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so soft it feels like a promise. “I know you’re not ready.” The fear doesn’t leave completely, but it softens in his presence and at his words.

He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand anything from you that you’re not ready to give. There’s no expectation in his expression, just quiet patience and unwavering care. His words echo in your mind, weaving through all the doubts and insecurities that have kept you guarded for so long. I’m in love with you. I’ve felt like this for so long. The way he says it makes it clear he’s not waiting for reciprocation; he’s simply giving you the truth of his heart, letting you hold it if you’re ready.

“I know what we have is real for both of us. Until you can say it, I’ll just keep reminding you, hm?” He adds. His voice is a soothing hum, filled with patience and understanding.

“Reminding me of what?” you mumble, a small, teasing smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, your coyness earning a fond chuckle from him.

“That I love you,” he repeats without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. The flutter in your chest is undeniable, and you can’t help but smile through the happy tears that well in your eyes. It amazes you how easily the words roll off his tongue, how unafraid he is to show you the depths of his feelings. For the first time in your life, you feel truly seen, truly worthy of something this profound.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently as you tease, “But in the photo you posted of me on Instagram, you said you were falling in love with the view—not that you were actually in love.”

A grin spreads across his face, and he matches your playful tone. “I was talking about the view at the beach,” he says, his chuckle warm and light.

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, right.” You know he was fully referring to you, and the thought makes your cheeks flush.

His teasing melts into something more serious as he shakes his head, his expression softening. His eyes, so full of tenderness, meet yours as he speaks. “Well, for a while, I was trying to figure it out—wondering if I was really in love with the view. But then…” His smile grows, and his hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer. “The view asked me to be her boyfriend, and that made me realize I’d been in love this whole time.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way his words wrap around your heart, makes you lean forward and kiss him deeply. And in that moment, you know without a doubt that this love—this connection—is yours to keep.

───────────────────────────────

As you step onto campus, it feels like the world shifts around you—your bubble bursts so violently it’s like being jolted awake from a dream. The quiet, warm haze of being with Mark yesterday is gone, replaced by an overwhelming awareness of the world outside. The early morning air is crisp, the sun casting soft golden light over the scattered groups of students. Though the campus isn’t as packed as it will be later in the day, it feels impossibly crowded to you, every sound amplified, every face turned toward you.

Mark had left early in the morning after spending the night, waking you with the lightest shake and a soft kiss on your lips, his voice low and raspy as he murmured, “I’ve got to finish that project—it’s due today.” His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled away, brushing a thumb over your cheek and promising, “I’ll come by later.” Now, without him beside you, the campus felt unusually quiet, the absence of his presence leaving an ache you couldn’t quite shake.

You walk alone, your shoes tapping softly against the pavement, the sound oddly loud in your ears. Eyes seem to follow you with every step, whispers trailing just behind them. It’s disorienting. Yesterday, with Mark by your side, you’d felt invincible—his hand in yours was like a shield, grounding you and keeping the world at bay. But today, without him, every glance, every hushed word cuts through you.

Your chest tightens, and a rush of heat creeps up your neck as your heart pounds erratically. The air feels thinner somehow, and you struggle to draw a full breath. Your fingers tremble slightly, and you clutch at the strap of your bag as though it might anchor you to reality. Your legs feel heavier with each step, the weight of invisible eyes pressing down on you. By the time you near the performing arts building, your head spins, the whispers around you blending into a low hum that grows louder with every passing second.

“Did you hear?” a voice filters through the noise, sharp and distinct enough to make your stomach churn.

“I heard she was with Jeno first…” Mia says, her words cutting through the haze like a blade.

You glance toward the group of girls, their laughter grating as they openly stare at you. Your gaze drops to the ground, unwilling to meet their eyes, but the tension coils tighter in your chest.

“She’s so lucky to have Mark,” Aisha adds, her tone almost admiring but laced with speculation. “But did she really cheat on Jeno with him?”

The word ‘cheat’ sends a jolt of nausea through you. Your pace quickens instinctively, but their voices still reach you, each syllable sticking like thorns in your mind.

“What does he even see in her?” Mia responds, her words ringing louder than the rest.

Your vision blurs slightly, and you force yourself to keep walking, even as your pulse races. The air feels heavier, your throat tightening with every breath. You hear a final mutter, this time from Ryujin, loud enough to be deliberate: “He could do so much better.”

It’s like a punch to the gut, their words echoing in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your spiraling thoughts. They’re saying I cheated. The accusation feels like a foreign object lodged in your chest, sharp and suffocating. Your mind twists and turns, trying to make sense of it, trying to remember every step you took with Mark, every moment you shared with Jeno. Confusion clouds your thoughts. You want to defend yourself, to explain, but there’s no one to listen, no one to tell you what’s true or false anymore.

Your steps falter as the weight of it all pulls you down, threatening to crush you. You’ve never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, and the performing arts building ahead feels impossibly far away. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself forward, though every step feels like a battle.

Focus on Mark, you reminded yourself, gripping the bag of breakfast tightly as you made your way to the music department. Mark had left in such a rush this morning, his stress about the project radiating off him. You could tell he hadn’t eaten, and the least you could do was bring him something to keep him going. He needs this, you thought, and you need to see him.

As you step into the music department, the atmosphere changes instantly. The bustling energy of the main campus fades, replaced by a quieter, more focused hum. The high ceilings, clean white walls, and warm wooden accents give the building a sense of calm. The halls are lined with soundproof practice rooms, each one a small sanctuary for creativity. You pass students engrossed in their music, their heads bent over pianos, guitars, and laptops, completely absorbed. No one spares you a second glance, and the weight on your chest begins to lift.

This is what you needed. This side of campus feels safe, far from the gossiping whispers and pointed stares. The arts students are too focused on their own work to notice you, and the quiet hum of melodies drifting through the air feels like a balm. You tighten your grip on the bag in your hands and smile when you push the door open to the room he was in.

He sat at a desk cluttered with audio equipment, headphones on, completely immersed in the layers of music on his laptop screen. The room is spacious, with a sleek desk covered in audio equipment, a keyboard against one wall, and a few guitars propped in the corner. A large monitor displays multiple tracks on Mark’s laptop screen, the intricate layers of his music in progress. The faint glow of the monitor highlights his features as he sits at the desk, headphones snug over his ears, completely absorbed in his work. His fingers fly over the keys, pausing occasionally to adjust a slider on the audio interface. His head bobs slightly to the rhythm, and his brows are furrowed in concentration.

For a moment, you just watch him. He’s in his element, so focused, and it makes your heart swell. Last night’s memory flashes through your mind, the way he’d held you, kissed you, murmured soft words against your skin. The thought sends warmth through you, pushing away the remnants of anxiety from earlier.

“Mark,” you called softly, stepping further into the room, but he didn’t so much as glance your way. A grin tugged at your lips as you took in how absorbed he was, Perfect. Quietly, you tiptoed up behind him and tapped his shoulder, leaning in slightly as you waited for him to jump.

Nothing.

His posture didn’t even shift. His focus was unshaken.

With a dramatic sigh, you sat down next to him, close enough for him to see you in his peripheral vision. “How do you do that?” you pouted, crossing your arms. “You always make me jump when you sneak up on me, but I can’t even get you to blink.”

Mark finally smiled, pulling off his headphones and turning to face you. Without a word, he leaned forward and kissed you softly on the lips, the warmth of his affection melting away your mock annoyance. “Because I’m always ready for you,” he murmured against your lips, his smile widening as he pulled back just slightly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Nice try, though.”

His gaze drops to the bag in your hand. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” you said simply, placing it on the desk. “I know you didn’t eat before leaving, so…”

His expression softened as he opened the bag and found exactly what he liked: an everything bagel, avocado slices, crispy bacon, and his coffee—medium roast with oat milk, no sugar. He took a bite, followed by a sip, his smile widening. “You’re amazing,” he said warmly, looking at you with so much affection it made your heart skip. “Best girlfriend ever.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I try.”

As he continued eating, you stood, ready to head to class. “I should go. I don’t want to distract you,” you said, already moving toward the door.

Mark caught your wrist just as you started to move away, his touch firm but gentle, pulling you back toward him. “Don’t go yet,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a soft yearning that made your heart skip. His thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist, a small, intimate gesture that sent warmth spreading through you. “I need recharging.”

“Recharging?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow, though your lips tugged into a playful smile.

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief as he tugged you onto his lap effortlessly. His hands settled on your waist, fingers spreading wide against your sides as he adjusted you to fit perfectly against him. “Yes,” he said simply, his voice dropping lower. “You’re my battery, baby.”

You laughed, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, your fingertips playing with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. “You’re ridiculous,” you teased, though your heart swelled at how easy it felt to be close to him like this. His presence had a way of grounding you, making the world fade into the background.

Mark’s lips lingered against your temple, soft and teasing as he murmured, “And you love it.” He slid his headphones over your ears, his fingertips brushing lightly against your skin, and hit play. The music enveloped you instantly, a perfect blend of layered harmonies and intricate beats. It was beautiful—raw and unmistakably his. Your eyes fluttered shut as the melody filled your senses, drawing you into the world he’d created. When he finally pulled the headphones away, his gaze was full of quiet anticipation, his lips quirking into a small, hopeful smile.

“I love… it,” you breathe, your voice trailing off into a soft moan. Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks as the kiss deepened, slow and tender at first before turning playful. He nipped at your lower lip, making you giggle, and followed it with gentle smooches along your jawline and back to your lips, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His warmth surrounded you, grounding you in the moment.

But the sound of the door creaking open shattered your bubble. Both of you pulled away abruptly, your eyes darting to the figure standing in the doorway—Mark’s best friend. She stood there, her expression unreadable, but her gaze flickered between the two of you before settling on Mark with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

“Hey, Y/N, can I have a moment with Mark?” she asked, her tone polite but firm.

You blinked, caught off guard, and nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course.” You started to rise, already thinking that maybe they needed this—time to talk and mend whatever had fractured between them.

But before you could take another step, Mark stood too, his hand slipping into yours as he turned to her. His jaw tightened, and his eyes hardened, the warmth from moments ago replaced by something distant and cold. “No, you can’t,” he said flatly, not even looking at her before he guided you toward the door.

You hesitated, your steps faltering as you glanced back at her. Guilt churned in your stomach, and you gently stopped Mark, placing your hands on either side of his face to get his attention. “Don’t you want to talk to her?” you asked softly, searching his eyes. “It’s a good idea. Just… get everything off your chest. Listen to what she has to say.”

“I’m not interested,” he muttered, his tone clipped, leaving no room for argument. His expression was set, frustration simmering just beneath the surface as his fingers tightened slightly around yours.

Still, you turned back to her, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” you murmured, your voice small before Mark pulled you out of the room, his grip firm yet protective.

Once outside, the tension in your chest only grew. “I can’t believe you still haven’t made up with her,” you mumbled, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. It was hard to ignore the guilt gnawing at your edges. Jeno’s revelation about you and Mark had sent shockwaves through everyone’s lives, exposing secrets and unravelling relationships. The fallout between Mark and his best friend, the strained connection between you and Karina, Jeno’s own conflicts—it all stemmed from the lie you’d told, the choice you’d made.

Mark’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, grounding you again, but the guilt didn’t dissipate. How could you and Mark be so happy, so wrapped up in each other, when everyone else around you was hurting? The thought clawed at your insides.

The tension in the air was palpable as Mark tightened his grip on your hand, trying to reassure you. “Look, one day I will talk to her, but I don’t want to right now. I just want to enjoy my time with you.” His voice was calm, steady, as if trying to convince both you and himself.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of the door creaking open cut you off. She stood there, her expression unreadable as her gaze flickered from Mark to you. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she let out a soft sigh. “Can I talk to you then, Y/N?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

Mark’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, his hand tightening around yours protectively. “You don’t have to,” he said softly, leaning in as if to shield you.

You shook your head, giving him a small smile to reassure him. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “Go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

He hesitated for a moment, his hand lingering on yours before he nodded reluctantly. “I’ll message you,” he said, his voice low and careful. His eyes stayed on you as he left, clearly uneasy about leaving you alone with her.

You followed her back into the music room, the once-welcoming space now feeling cold and uninviting. The door shut behind you with a soft click, the sound reverberating in the silence that followed. You didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t the venom that dripped from her words the moment she spoke.

“This is fucking unbelievable,” she began, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. How the hell hasn’t Mark gotten away from you?”

“What?” you asked, the single word escaping you before you could even process her attack.

She didn’t stop. “You’re everything he doesn’t stand for. The lying, the deception, the attention—the negative attention. I’m so surprised he’s still with you.”

Her words were like daggers, sharp and precise, each one finding its mark. You felt your chest tighten, your breathing shallow as you tried to formulate a response. “You don’t know anything about us,” you said quietly, biting your tongue to hold back the surge of emotions threatening to spill over.

Her laugh was humorless, almost cruel. “But I know him,” she shot back, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer. “I’ve known him since we were kids, Y/N. Trust me, this? This entire thing with you? It’s unlike him. I’m in disbelief that he made you his girlfriend after everything… That isn’t like Mark at all. He doesn’t rush into things.”

The words hit harder than you expected, each one planting seeds of doubt in your mind. You tried to tell yourself she was speaking out of anger, that she didn’t mean it, but the cracks in your resolve were already forming. Your voice was small when you finally responded. “How do you know I’m his girlfriend?”

Hanni tilted her head, an incredulous smile tugging at her lips. “Well, now I do,” she said, a bitter laugh escaping her as she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone in the room with your spiraling thoughts.

The silence that followed was deafening. Her words echoed in your head, relentless and unforgiving. Mark making you his girlfriend isn’t like him. It replayed over and over, each time driving deeper into your insecurities. Your chest felt heavy, your throat tight as tears threatened to spill. You couldn’t stop the doubts from taking root, couldn’t stop the suffocating feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was right.

“He’s been shutting me out,” she said flatly, her voice pulling you from your train of thoughts, she speaks heavy with resentment. “Mark doesn’t do that. He doesn’t just disappear from my life the way he is right now. We’ve had arguments before, but he’s never ignored me for this long. I’m the one who’s always been there for him. But ever since you came into the picture, it’s like I don’t exist anymore.”

“That’s not true,” you said quickly, the defensiveness in your tone giving you away. “Even when we were together, he always found time for you. He hung out with you, checked in on you—he never forgot about you. The only reason he’s shutting you out right now is because he’s hurt. You know that. The whole Jeno situation broke something between you two, and it has nothing to do with me.”

Her eyes narrowed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “It has everything to do with you,” she snapped. “If you hadn’t lied about what was going on between you and Mark, none of this would’ve blown up the way it did. You’re the reason he’s pissed off at me. You made this mess.”

You took a step back, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest. “That’s not fair,” you said, your voice quieter now but still firm. “You’re projecting all your anger onto me because you don’t want to face the fact that you messed up. You’re the one who didn’t tell him about you and Jeno. You kept it a secret just like we did.”

Her laugh was short and bitter, her frustration spilling over. “Are you really trying to compare the two? I was protecting my relationship. What were you protecting? A secret fling? A lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie,” you shot back, heat rising in your voice. “Mark and I didn’t even know what we were at first. It wasn’t planned, and it definitely wasn’t meant to hurt anyone. You and Jeno made your own choices, just like we did. Don’t blame me because Mark’s mad at you.”

She shook her head, her gaze cold and unrelenting. “You don’t get it. Mark and I have been through everything together. He’s my best friend. And now, because of you, he’s shutting me out. Do you even know how that feels?”

“I do,” you said softly, meeting her glare. “I know what it’s like to feel like you’re losing someone you care about. But this isn’t about me. If you really care about him, then stop blaming me and talk to him. Own up to what you did. Don’t use me as your excuse for why he’s mad.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but no words came out. Instead, she shook her head again, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. “You think you know him, but you don’t. Not like I do.”

“Maybe not,” you admitted, your voice steady now. “But I do know that he’s not shutting you out because of me. He’s shutting you out because he’s hurt. And that’s something only you can fix.”

The silence between you hung heavy, her glare still sharp but faltering. For a moment, you thought she might say something else, but instead, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone with the echo of her words and the tightening knot in your chest.

You sank into the chair Mark had vacated moments ago, the wood creaking softly beneath your weight. Your hands trembled as they rested on the table, a faint shiver running through your body despite the warmth of the room. You inhaled deeply, trying to steady your breathing, but your mind refused to quiet. Every word, every sharp edge of her accusations replayed in your head like a relentless loop.

You told yourself you’d held your ground—that you’d spoken logically, defended yourself and Mark with the conviction you knew the situation demanded. But her words still cut deep, slicing through your carefully crafted walls. You understood, at least on some level, that she spoke from a place of hurt—hurt caused by Mark’s indifference, by his attention shifting entirely to you. Yet knowing that didn’t dull the sting; it only made the ache sharper, heavier.

Your thoughts spiraled as doubt crept in. Is this too much for him? Are you dragging him down, pulling him into something he doesn’t deserve? Does he regret this? The questions churned in your chest, twisting the knot of frustration and guilt that had taken root there. You curled your fingers into fists, pressing your nails into your palms as if the slight pain could pull you back to reality.

You exhaled shakily, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the chaos in your mind to subside. But her voice lingered like a shadow, her accusations clinging to you in a way that felt impossible to shake.

You knew Mark’s best friend was struggling, torn between her newfound relationship with Jeno and the fallout with Mark. For her, it wasn’t just about the sudden public nature of her relationship; it was the weight of the friendship that had stood the test of decades, now fractured under the strain of secrets and misunderstandings. She had never been in a relationship before, and you could see how she was still figuring it all out—discovering herself as she went.

Still, the hurt between her and Mark was palpable. Mark, for all his cool demeanor, carried his own weight of sadness and betrayal. You understood why he was keeping his distance—he was trying to approach things logically, to avoid letting fresh emotions lead to more arguments and deeper fractures. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt. She had been his confidant, the one person he trusted to share the depth of his feelings for you without judgment. The fact that she hadn’t reciprocated that same trust stung. Maybe he understood why she hadn’t told him—because of who her relationship was with, and how delicate things used to be between him and Jeno—but understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.

And you? You felt like the weight of it all somehow rested on your shoulders. Even though you hadn’t been the one to drop the bombshell, you felt responsible for the fallout anyway. You hadn’t told Mark because of your promise to his best friend, but seeing the pain in his eyes, knowing how much her silence had hurt him, left an ache you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to fix it, to push them to talk and sort it out, but you knew it wasn’t your place. This was something they had to navigate themselves, and all you could do was hope they would find a way back to each other.

Your chest tightened further, the unspoken weight of their fractured relationship pressing down on you. You felt like you were caught in the crossfire, the burden of loyalty tugging you in opposite directions. And yet, as much as you wanted to help, you knew you had no right to intervene. This wasn’t your story to resolve—it was theirs. Still, the guilt lingered, making it harder to breathe as you stared at the empty coffee cup Mark had left behind, wishing for an answer that didn’t exist.

You pick up Mark’s empty coffee cup, your hands trembling slightly as you toss it into the bin. The sound of it hitting the bottom feels sharper than it should, echoing in the silence left after the confrontation. You take a deep breath, trying to push away the conversation that still lingers like a shadow over your thoughts. But the knot in your chest refuses to loosen.

Needing a distraction, an anchor, you go to find Mark. He’s sitting in one of the other music rooms on the same floor, leaning over his laptop, his fingers typing steadily. When you step in, he looks up almost instantly, his eyes softening as they land on you.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity.

You hesitate, shaking your head quickly. “Nothing,” you say, though it comes out too abrupt to be convincing.

Mark furrows his brows, his gaze narrowing slightly as he studies you. You know he doesn’t believe you. He knows you too well, sees you too deeply, and you can feel him reading every flicker of emotion you’re trying to suppress. But to your surprise, he doesn’t push.

Instead, he leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before turning his attention back to his screen. “Okay,” he says softly, giving you the space you weren’t sure you even needed.

You stay where you are, hovering by the door, your mind still replaying the conversation. It had shaken something in you, and now all you wanted was to bury it, to forget it entirely. Anchoring yourself to Mark felt like the only way to ground the spiraling thoughts in your head, but his silence—his willingness to wait for you to come to him—left you unsettled in a different way.

He must know something’s wrong. Mark always knows. He can see through you so easily, always has, so his restraint is surprising. Maybe he’s giving you time, you think. Space to sort it out and come to him when you’re ready.

He glances at you again as he stands, brushing his hands over his thighs before stepping closer, his presence magnetic and grounding. His hands find your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. He rests his forehead against yours for a brief moment, his breath warm as it fans over your lips. “Hey,” he murmurs softly, his tone laced with both curiosity and reassurance. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, even though the answer feels far from true. “Yeah,” you say, forcing a small smile. “I actually need to go to class now. I’ll be late.”

His hands shift, one sliding up your side, his fingers grazing the curve of your ribs, while the other moves to cradle your face. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, his touch slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing the way your skin feels under his fingers. “I’ll walk you to class,” he says without hesitation.

You shake your head quickly. “It’s okay, it’s not far from here.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and familiar. “That’s good, because I do really need to focus on this project.” He leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s soft at first but lingers longer than it should, his mouth moving gently against yours like he’s trying to tell you everything he can’t say aloud.

When he finally pulls back, he presses another kiss to your forehead, then to your temple, before his hand slides down your arm, his fingers grazing yours. “I’ll see you later at practice, yeah?” he murmurs, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go. You stand there for a moment, watching him as he steps back toward his desk, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin. You nod to yourself, exhaling shakily before stepping out of the room.

───────────────────────────────

The gym buzzed with the familiar rhythm of practice—basketballs thudding against the court, the screech of sneakers cutting through the air, and the sharp whistle blasts from Coach Suh. The cheer squad was set up at the far end of the gym, practicing their own routines with bursts of laughter and chatter, but your focus was on the game unfolding in front of you.

You had been excited to see Mark at practice, eager to anchor yourself to his calm presence after the tension of the day. But when your gaze landed on the court, that excitement fizzled into unease. The air was thick with tension from the very start, and it didn’t take long to see why.

Mark and Jeno were locked in what could only be described as a silent battle. They were hyper-focused—but not in the usual, coordinated way. Instead of working together, they seemed intent on outplaying each other at every turn. Jeno went out of his way to block Mark aggressively, shoulders colliding in ways that bordered on outright shoving. Mark retaliated by intercepting passes meant for Jeno, his movements sharp and deliberate, as if to prove a point. When communication was necessary, they outright ignored each other, their glares speaking louder than any words.

The sound of the ball bouncing on the hardwood echoed with every quick dribble, but the game itself was messy. Passes were intercepted, plays were broken, and rebounds turned into outright battles for the ball. You winced as Jeno and Mark collided under the basket, neither willing to back down as they scrambled for the rebound.

It wasn’t long before their frustration boiled over into outright defiance. Mark intercepted a pass meant for Jeno, ignoring his teammate’s call for the ball as he sprinted up the court. Jeno, visibly irritated, blocked Mark hard enough to send the ball flying out of bounds. Instead of a quick reset, they glared at each other, the tension crackling between them.

Coach Suh blew his whistle, the sharp sound echoing through the gym and silencing everyone instantly. He stormed onto the court, his face a mix of frustration and disbelief. “What the hell is going on with you two?” he barked, his voice booming across the gym. “You’ve gone back to square one! You’re supposed to be teammates, not enemies!”

Mark and Jeno stood a few feet apart, both avoiding each other’s eyes. Jeno’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he tried to keep his cool. Mark looked just as tense, his hands resting on his hips, fingers flexing as if itching to say something. The rest of the team stood frozen, their eyes darting between the two, the tension thick enough to choke on.

“You want to throw this season away? Because that’s exactly where this is heading if you two don’t get your shit together,” Coach Suh continued, his voice cutting through the stillness. “Figure it out, or you’re both benched. I don’t care how good you are—this isn’t about you; it’s about the team.”

The whistle blew again, signaling a break, and the players dispersed toward the benches. You watched as Mark grabbed a water bottle, his movements stiff with frustration. Jeno lingered nearby, pacing slightly, his jaw set in a hard line.

You could feel it before it even happened—the inevitable explosion.

“You gonna keep hiding behind the coach, Lee,” Jeno muttered, his voice low and sharp, “or you gonna play like a man?”

Mark’s head snapped toward him, his brows furrowing as his eyes narrowed. “You’re the one acting like a damn child,” he shot back, his voice louder than Jeno’s but no less tense. “Bringing personal shit into practice? Real mature.”

Jeno stepped closer, his grip tightening on his water bottle. “Personal shit? You mean like you sneaking around with my ex behind my back? Or maybe it’s about you telling me to stay out of your business while you’re all over mine.”

Mark’s jaw ticked, his shoulders squaring as he closed the gap between them. “You’re really gonna stand there and act like you’ve been some innocent saint in all this?” he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re the one who can’t keep things professional. I’m here to play, not deal with your goddamn insecurities.”

The exchange was loud enough to catch the attention of the rest of the team, who pretended to stretch or hydrate but couldn’t hide their curious glances. Murmurs rippled through the players, their eyes darting between Mark and Jeno like spectators waiting for the next move in a boxing match.

Coach Suh stormed over, his face red with anger. “Enough!” he bellowed, his voice silencing every murmur in the gym. “Sort your shit out, or get off my court.”

Mark and Jeno didn’t look at each other, their standoff ending as Coach Suh’s words sank in. Mark’s lips pressed into a thin line as he turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Jeno exhaled sharply, his grip on the water bottle tightening before he tossed it onto the bench.

You watched it all unfold, your chest tightening with unease. The tension between them was suffocating, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were only going to get worse before they got better.

“What’s going on with Mark and Jeno?” Aisha asked suddenly, nudging your side. Her tone was casual, but her sharp gaze suggested she was already piecing things together.

“I don’t know,” you lied, shrugging and forcing your face to stay neutral. You focused on straightening the hem of your cheer skirt, avoiding her eyes.

But Aisha wasn’t the only one curious. Yiren, standing nearby, leaned in closer. “It looks intense,” she said, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Is it true you and Jeno used to date? And now you’re with Mark?” Her voice dropped into a teasing lilt, her words dripping with faux curiosity. “That’s so messy.”

Yiren wasn’t deterred. “I mean, Jeno’s hot, but Mark?” She let out a low whistle. “How did you even pull him? Like, for real.”

You stiffened, your cheeks flushing hot, the bluntness of Yiren’s words hitting like a slap you hadn’t braced for. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your throat felt tight, constricted by the sudden weight of humiliation pressing down on you.

“Guys, stop,” Chaeyoung said, her voice cutting through the tension. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a pointedness to it that made the others fall momentarily silent. For a split second, you felt a flicker of gratitude—until she kept talking. “Her and Mark are just hooking up though, right? I mean, it would be so much worse if she actually got with him as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

The words sent an icy chill through you, the blood draining from your face. It was like the floor had been pulled out from under you, leaving you standing there exposed and vulnerable. Your eyes darted to Chaeyoung, searching for some sign that she realized how cruel her comment sounded, but she was already looking back at Yiren and Aisha, her expression almost too casual.

You couldn’t believe they were talking about you like this—as if you weren’t standing right there, as if your entire life was just gossip fodder for their entertainment.

“Seriously?” you finally managed, your voice low but edged with disbelief. The words barely made it out, drowned by the lump in your throat.

Aisha tilted her head, feigning innocence. “What? It’s not like it’s a big deal. People hook up all the time. But, like, you guys aren’t actually dating, are you?”

Across the court, the tension between Mark and Jeno reached its peak. Mark stormed off first, his face dark with frustration, the muscles in his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt. Your heart sank as his eyes briefly flicked to yours. The anger and hurt in his gaze made your stomach twist painfully.

Moments later, Jeno stalked past, his steps deliberate, his posture rigid with barely contained tension. His expression was cold, unyielding, and his gaze stayed locked ahead, not sparing you even a passing glance. Yet, his proximity was enough to make your skin prickle, a sharp, invisible chill creeping up your spine. You could feel the storm of his emotions radiating off him—anger, frustration, maybe even betrayal—all tightly bottled beneath his unreadable mask.

The air around you felt colder as he moved away, like he’d sucked the warmth out of the gym with him. His presence lingered, heavy and suffocating, long after he disappeared into the hallway. The echoes of his retreating footsteps seemed impossibly loud against the muted murmurs that filled the gym.

The cheerleaders had fallen silent, the weight of the scene settling over them like a shroud. Their gazes darted between Mark, who had stormed off moments earlier, and Jeno, who was now gone, before finally snapping back to you. Their stares burned, each glance feeling like a spotlight, their judgment palpable in the charged silence.

Then the whispers started again.

“Wow,” Aisha muttered, breaking the quiet with a tone dripping in mock awe. She leaned slightly toward Yiren, her lips curving into a smirk. “I can’t believe you’re at the center of all this. Must be nice to have two guys fighting over you.”

Their words hit like a physical blow, leaving you frozen in place, your cheeks burning. You couldn’t stay here—not with their judgmental stares and whispered comments suffocating you. “I need some air,” you said quickly, excusing yourself before they could say anything else.

The hallway outside the gym was quiet, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights filling the space. You leaned against the cool wall, willing yourself not to cry, but the tears pricked at your eyes anyway. The guilt, the humiliation, the overwhelming weight of everything—it all felt like too much.

You pushed off the wall and made your way into the nearest bathroom. The door creaked shut behind you, and you stood frozen for a moment before slipping into a stall. Closing the cubicle door, you locked it and sat down on the closed toilet seat, trying to catch your breath. Your hands rested on your lap, trembling slightly as you stared at the tiled floor, your mind racing with the words and stares from earlier.

The silence was short-lived.

The bathroom door swung open, and the sound of footsteps echoed across the tiles. You heard the faint hum of conversation as a group of girls entered.

“I mean, it’s messy as hell,” Aisha’s voice cut through the quiet, casual but loud enough to make your stomach twist. “Jeno and Mark? And she’s just… right there in the middle of it all.”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized they were talking about you.

“Exactly,” Yiren chimed in, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. “She’s been playing both sides, whether she realizes it or not. Like, come on, you don’t get in the middle of something like that and act innocent.”

Chaeyoung’s voice joined the conversation, softer but no less cutting. “I mean, people are going to talk. She’s kind of brought it on herself, don’t you think? Dating Jeno first and then Mark? It’s messy, and it looks bad. Of course people are going to notice.”

You clenched your fists in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as the words echoed around you. Each comment felt like a blow, the knot in your chest tightening with every passing second.

But then, Karina’s voice cut through, sharp and firm. “That’s enough.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable even from your hidden vantage point.

“What?” Aisha asked, her tone defensive but cautious.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Karina snapped, her voice carrying an edge of frustration. “Mark and Jeno have had problems for ages—long before she was in the picture. This isn’t on her.”

“But still,” Yiren argued weakly, “she’s kind of—”

“She’s kind of what?” Karina interrupted, her tone icy. “Trying to live her life while everyone judges her for shit she can’t control? Seriously, do you even hear yourselves?”

There was a pause, the kind of awkward silence that came when people realized they’d been called out.

“I’m just saying, it looks bad,” Chaeyoung mumbled.

Karina didn’t back down. “And maybe it wouldn’t look so bad if everyone minded their own business instead of turning her life into gossip. You don’t know what she’s dealing with. So just drop it.”

The other girls muttered faintly, their tones subdued now. After a moment, you heard the shuffle of footsteps as they made their way out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind them.

You stayed in the stall, frozen, your breath shaky as you tried to process what you’d just heard. Karina had defended you—fiercely, unapologetically—even though you hadn’t expected her to. Even with all the tension between you two lately, she had stood up for you when you weren’t there to do it yourself.

The lump in your throat returned, but it wasn’t entirely from sadness this time. It was something else—a mix of relief and gratitude that left your chest aching.

You stayed in the stall for a few more moments, letting the quiet wash over you, before finally standing and unlocking the door. Your reflection in the mirror looked just as tired as you felt, but there was a flicker of something steadier now, a tiny spark of strength.

Karina’s words lingered in your mind as you splashed cold water on your face, steadying yourself for whatever came next.

You left the bathroom quietly, making sure no one saw you as you slipped back into the empty hallway. You wandered aimlessly until your feet carried you toward the far end of the gym, where you hoped to find Mark. You needed him. Even if you couldn’t explain everything, even if you couldn’t ask him to fix this, you needed him.

But as you rounded the corner, you stopped in your tracks.

Mark and Jeno were standing near the vending machines, their voices low but tense. You couldn’t make out every word, but their body language spoke volumes. Mark’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set, while Jeno gestured sharply, his expression hard.

You lingered at the edge of the hallway, torn between stepping forward and retreating. The sight of them talking—arguing, maybe—only made the knot in your stomach tighten. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady the ache, but it refused to go away.

For now, all you could do was watch, your heart sinking further as their conversation continued, the tension between them refusing to break.

Mark stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set in a way that made his frustration painfully evident. His stance was defensive but grounded, like he was trying to maintain control of his emotions. Jeno, on the other hand, was a storm. His hands gesture wildly, his tone laced with bitterness and anger, his words cutting even from a distance.

“I started to see you as my brother,” Jeno said, his voice trembling slightly with an edge of anger. “I actually thought we could finally be something after all these years. I thought maybe we could be close, that the distance and bullshit between us didn’t matter anymore. I fucking believed you, Mark. I believed you over my dad.”

Mark’s brows furrowed, his expression softening just slightly. “And we still can be,” he said, his voice even, like he was trying to diffuse the situation before it spiraled further. “We can still be brothers. Nothing has to change, man.”

Jeno’s laugh was short and bitter, the sound echoing in the. “I didn’t believe my dad when he warned me,” Jeno said, his voice low and full of venom. “He told me you’d try to take everything from me—my spot on the team, my friends, my life…” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he leaned slightly closer. “My fucking girl.”

Mark’s laugh came suddenly, cutting through the tension like a crack of lightning. It was sharp and humorless, a sound so unlike him that it sent a chill down your spine. “You mean my girl?” he said, his voice dropping into something almost possessive. He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable but his tone unmistakably clear. “She was never yours to begin with, Jeno. Not in the way that matters.”

Jeno’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his face twisting with a mix of anger and disbelief. “Don’t bullshit me,” he hissed, his voice sharp and cutting. “You want to stand there and act like this wasn’t about proving a point? Like you didn’t look at her and see another chance to one-up me? To take what was mine?” You just want to prove that nothing I have is safe from you, that you can take away anything I value.”

“You know what?” Jeno continued, his voice rising slightly. “Congratulations, Mark. How does it feel to live in the shoes of the better Lee brother? The one our dad always picked over you? You’ve finally got it all, haven’t you?”

Mark laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh—it was sharp, humorless, full of disbelief. “You’re so full of shit,” he said, shaking his head. “You really believe this, don’t you? That I’m living to compete with you?”

Jeno crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Mark’s response came quickly, his tone hardening. “Believe whatever you want to. At least I’m not drowning in my insecurities. If you think I stole Y/N from you, then yeah, you definitely feel threatened by me, huh?”

The words hit you like a freight train.

Your chest tightened painfully, and your breath caught as Mark’s voice echoed in your mind. You hope he didn’t mean it but the laugh, the lack of a direct denial, the way he didn’t defend you against Jeno’s accusations—it was like a knife to your already fragile heart.

The cheerleaders’ voices echoed in your mind, their careless words stacking like bricks on the weight pressing against your chest. Their gossip, so casual and cutting, played on a loop: how you and Mark were probably just a fling, how messy the situation was, how someone like Mark could have anyone he wanted. But it was his best friend’s earlier comment that hit the hardest, resurfacing now with sharper edges: the observation that it wasn’t like Mark to move so fast into a relationship. The weight of those words settled heavily, twisting your insecurities further, feeding the voice in your head that whispered Mark’s feelings might not run as deep as yours.

Your thoughts spiraled uncontrollably, your dark mind overpowering the light and love you’d been holding onto. Maybe it was true. Maybe Mark didn’t really love you. Maybe this was all some petty way of proving a point to Jeno. The laugh—the way he hadn’t argued against the insinuation—it felt like confirmation.

Your chest heaved as anxiety clawed its way through you, your heartbeat thunderous in your ears. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady the ache, but it refused to go away.

You wanted to burst into the conversation, to scream that they were both wrong, that you weren’t some trophy for either of them to fight over. But your legs refused to move, your throat constricted too tightly to form words.

Mark’s voice brought you back to the present. “You think I care about what you or anyone else thinks?” he said, his tone steady but cold. “You’ve always been so focused on yourself, Jeno, that you can’t see the bigger picture. None of this is about you.”

But to you, it felt like it was. Every word they said cut deeper, even the ones meant to shut Jeno down. Your mind twisted them into something else, something cruel, something that made you feel smaller and more insignificant than ever.

His voice rose slightly, trembling with barely contained frustration, as if every word was dragging up years of resentment he’d kept buried. “All she fucking is to you is a trophy. Another way to show me you’re better. You started screwing around with her behind my back when I was still seeing her. So don’t stand there and play innocent. At least admit it.”

Mark shifted his weight slightly, his hands dropping to his sides as he took a step forward. His voice was quieter now, but no less firm. “Not this fucking broken record again,” he said, a hard edge to his tone. “You fucking broke her heart, Jeno. That’s when we started seeing each other. Don’t twist the narrative just to fit your sob story.”

Jeno’s bitter laugh returned, loud and sharp, his disbelief pouring out of him like a broken dam. “Yeah, because you’re just the fucking hero in all this, aren’t you?” he spat. “You swooped in to save her when I couldn’t. You’ve been waiting for your chance, haven’t you?”

Mark stood frozen for a moment, his jaw tightening as Jeno’s words hung in the air. The silence stretched unbearably, and you could feel your chest tighten, your pulse quickening in the stillness. When Mark finally moved, it wasn’t with the fire or frustration you expected. Instead, he let out a slow exhale, dragging a hand down his face before looking back at Jeno with an unreadable expression.

“Think what you want,” he said quietly, his tone clipped, the words stripped of any emotion. “I’m not here to argue with you.”

Your heart sank.

He didn’t deny it. Not outright. Not in the way you’d desperately hoped he would.

Mark’s posture shifted slightly, his arms falling loosely to his sides, his shoulders tense but no longer squared. He wasn’t leaning forward to make his case, wasn’t stepping into Jeno’s space to defend himself or you. He just… stood there, letting Jeno’s accusations settle like they didn’t matter enough to correct.

“I don’t owe you anything,” he added, his voice low and deliberate.

Your breath hitched. The words felt like a dismissal, not just of Jeno but of everything—of you, of your relationship, of all the things you thought he might stand up for.

Jeno scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, but you barely registered it. Your attention was fixed on Mark, on every subtle movement, every microexpression that your anxiety twisted into something damning. The way his eyes darted briefly to the side before meeting Jeno’s gaze again. The way his hands flexed at his sides like he was holding something back. The way he didn’t rush to correct the narrative, didn’t immediately say what you needed to hear.

Your thoughts spiraled, crashing into one another in a wave of self-doubt and dread. Maybe this was true. Maybe Mark didn’t care enough to argue because there was nothing to defend. Maybe he had seen you as something to win, another way to prove he was better than Jeno.

Why isn’t he saying more? Why isn’t he stopping this?

Mark’s gaze flicked briefly in your direction—so quick, so subtle, you weren’t sure if he’d actually seen you. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t call out, didn’t soften, didn’t come to find you. He turned back to Jeno with the same detached calm, his voice cutting through your spiralling thoughts.

“Believe whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said, his tone almost disinterested. “If it makes you feel better to think I took something from you, fine. But don’t blame me for the things you lost on your own.”

The words hit hard—not just because of what they meant for Jeno, but because of what they didn’t mean for you. Jeno’s accusations and Mark’s responses felt deeply rooted in their rivalry, a tug-of-war between their insecurities and unresolved history. But none of it felt like it was about you, not really. Mark didn’t defend you, didn’t affirm your place in his life, didn’t even acknowledge the accusations for how they might affect you.

Instead, his words were focused on shutting down Jeno’s insecurities, on countering his claims, and that made it feel like you were just a symbol in their conflict—another thing for them to fight over. You wanted Mark to say something for you, to fight for you, to make it clear that you weren’t just caught in the crossfire of their issues. But he didn’t. And in the silence, your anxiety whispered the worst possible answer: Maybe you were never the point at all.

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing, but the ache wouldn’t go away. Your brain latched onto every little thing—the way Mark’s tone lacked warmth, the way he avoided direct confrontation, the way he didn’t once defend your relationship. It felt like confirmation of everything you feared, even if logic tried to tell you otherwise.

He didn’t fight for you.

Your hands trembled as you stepped back, the sound of their voices fading into the background as your thoughts drowned out everything else. You didn’t know how long you stood there, watching, waiting for something that never came. But when Mark finally turned his back to Jeno and walked toward the vending machine without another word, your heart clenched painfully, and you knew you couldn’t stay any longer.

You turned and slipped quietly down the hall, your legs heavy and unsteady as you tried to make sense of the weight crushing your chest. Every breath felt harder than the last, every thought louder, more invasive. You didn’t want to think it, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

Maybe Jeno was right. Maybe Mark never loved you at all.

authors note — hi loves! if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! it truly means the world to me. i poured so much effort into this, so if you could take just a moment to send an ask or leave a message sharing your thoughts, it would mean everything. your interactions—whether it’s sending an ask, your feedback, a comment, or just saying hi—give me so much motivation to keep writing. i’m always so happy to respond to messages, asks and comments so don’t be shy! thank you from the bottom of my heart! <3

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