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cutehoons02 · 3 days ago

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My lollipop girl

Jungwon pt Jake pt

*pairing: pervy rabbit hybrid Sunghoon x popular girl

*trope: oppositive attraction/grumpy x sunshine

*synopsis: Y/n is a university student who crosses paths with Sunghoon, an enigmatic and mysterious guy, who turns out to be a rabbit hybrid. Amid provocations, power plays, and growing tension, Y/N tries to catch his attention with a lollipop, but he mocks her. Despite his authoritative behavior, Sunghoon can't help but be drawn to her. As Y/n learns more about his hybrid nature, including heat and the knot, their relationship becomes increasingly intense, filled with seductive games and emotional challenges that push them further to their limits.

*tags: Sunghoon is a rabbit hybrid, lots of tension, Hoon behaves with superiority and loves to tease the protagonist always throwing arrows, territoriality, pervy thoughts, tutor Hoon, fake innocent girl, neddy Hoon, needy girl, kisses, hickeys, masturbation, double times fingering, unprotected sex (don't horny ppl) pet names (princess,sweetheart,good girl) (Hoon,hoonie)

13k (🍭)

(English is not my native language)

Being the most popular girl at the Academy had its perks. You never had to worry about being alone—everyone wanted to be seen with you, and everyone laughed at your jokes, even when they weren’t funny. One look from you was enough to get whatever you wanted, and if you wished for someone, that someone would come running to your feet.

But there were downsides, too. No one was indeed your friend. The girls who flocked around you gossiped about everyone the moment they turned their backs, and you could only imagine how many times they had done the same to you.

And then there were the hybrids—once outcasts, now accepted into human society, yet still treated as different. Every day, you heard those shallow girls giggling about them, whispering "animals" under their breath as if they weren’t human enough to deserve respect. You didn’t care. You weren’t there to be a hero. You only looked out for yourself.

At least, until that day.

The air in the advanced economics classroom was heavy, saturated with useless chatter and forced laughter. You walked in last, your usual strawberry-and-cream lollipop between your lips, your usual skirt just a little shorter than it should be, and your fitted blouse drawing eyes wherever you went. Scanning the room, you searched for an empty seat. Two options.

The first was next to Jeremy—the stereotypical football guy: arrogant, clingy, convinced every girl at the Academy would fall at his feet. He didn’t even bother to hide where his eyes wandered whenever you were around.

The other was next to Sunghoon.

Sunghoon wasn’t just handsome. He was the handsome that hurt to look at for too long. Soft black hair, almost too perfect, a face carved with precision, dotted with tiny beauty marks you wanted to examine up close… and kiss. His nose was perfect, his features sharp like a statue, his body lean but sculpted just right. But his looks weren’t the problem. His personality was.

Cold. Silent. Cynical.

He barely spoke, and when he did, it was to throw sharp remarks—often aimed at humans. You didn’t blame him. It had to be exhausting to coexist with people who still looked at him with suspicion just for being born different. But when he was with other hybrids… he became someone else. Once, you had heard him laugh—a real, deep, almost contagious laugh. And God, you had wanted to listen to it again.

Your body moved before your mind could think twice. You walked toward the seat next to Sunghoon, ignoring Jeremy’s surprised stare and the murmurs of a few girls.

You pulled the chair back, the scraping sound echoing through the room. Sunghoon looked up, his dark pupils locking onto you, his ears twitching slightly as if irritated by the noise.

For a few seconds, he said nothing. He just observed you, analyzing with that calculated gaze, as if trying to figure out why you had chosen him.

You sat down calmly, crossing your legs with a slow, deliberate motion, letting your skirt ride up just enough to reveal a glimpse of your thighs. You knew he was looking, even if he tried to mask it with that bored, impassive expression. You wondered what was running through his mind. You wanted to slip into his thoughts, to understand what he thought of you—if he was genuinely annoyed or if, deep down, he liked you more than he was willing to admit.

Sunghoon glanced at you briefly, but his eyes betrayed something else, something he tried to suppress. His tail flicked slightly behind him—an involuntary reflex he immediately stifled as if refusing to give you the satisfaction of knowing you were affecting him. He was always like this: cold, calculated, yet incredibly curious. It was in his hybrid nature, his way of analyzing everything, but with that hint of arrogance typical of someone who knew he was irresistible.

Then your scent hit him.

Strawberries and cream. Sweet—almost too sweet for him. He wasn’t the type to enjoy sugary fragrances; he preferred sharp, fresh scents, ones with cool notes that matched his personality. And yet, somehow, he thought that scent was perfect for you. Too perfect.

He looked at you again.

You were different from the other popular girls. Beauty? That was obvious. Intelligence? He already knew you weren’t an airhead. But there was something more. You had confidence and boldness, yet you didn’t hesitate to talk to anyone—not even hybrids. He knew you had a hybrid friend, and that made you even stranger in his eyes.

But what irritated him was something else.

The way you sucked on that damn lollipop beside him, your tongue lazily gliding over the sugary stick, your lips wrapping around the candy with too much ease. The way your skirt was too short, leaving your thighs fully exposed. The way your blouse was too tight, the faint outline of pink lace peeking through, hugging your full curves.

Sunghoon throws you a sharp look, but you notice. And you smile.

"Do you like the show?" you ask with a provocative smirk, tilting your head slightly as you run the lollipop between your lips.

He sighs quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. 'Stop dreaming, princess.'

But the moment he says it, his eyes betray a flash of amusement, and his white and gray tail starts moving uncontrollably.

You burst into laughter, swinging the lollipop between your lips with a cheeky smile. "Princess, huh? No one’s ever called me that before."

Sunghoon scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. 'Strange, I thought your ego would guarantee you at least ten nicknames like that.'

You raise an eyebrow, entertained by his sharpness. "Oh, so you’ve been checking up on me?"

He gives you a bored look. 'Hard not to when everyone keeps talking about you.'

Your crystal-clear laugh fills the air as you pull out your economics notebooks and arrange the pages with slow, precise movements. Sunghoon, with his watchful gaze, observes everything: your neat handwriting, and your perfectly completed assignments.

"What's up? Surprised that I’m smart?" you ask, tilting your head slightly.

He barely curves his lips into a sneer. 'No. I'm surprised someone like you has time to study between all your dates.'

You click your tongue, giving him a mock expression of pity. "How cruel, Sunghoon. You’re breaking my heart."

'You should get used to it.' he replies, expressionless.

You bite your lip to hold back a smile. You like this game. You enjoy how he teases you without filters, how he doesn’t get swept up like everyone else. But most of all, you like the idea of provoking him.

You keep sucking on your lollipop, and when you get to the best part—the one where the strawberry and cream blend perfectly—you notice how Sunghoon averts his gaze for a moment. But not fast enough.

His cheeks flush slightly. His tail stops moving, and his fluffy ears twitch ever so slightly.

Your smile widens. "You like lollipops?"

He bursts out laughing, but there’s something irritated in his expression.

'No. I don’t like unnecessarily sugary things.'

"Strange," you comment, running your tongue along the candy. "Yet, you seem like the type to melt for something sweet."

Sunghoon looks at you, this time with an even colder, sharper gaze.

'Maybe because you’re used to all those little puppies that circle you. But I’m not one of them.'

His tone is so cutting that for a moment, you almost take him seriously. Almost. You simply smile. "No, definitely not."

The professor enters, and the conversation stops, but the tension remains. When the tests are handed out, your gaze falls on the grade marked in red next to your name. 75. Not bad. But then you see the test next to yours. 100.

You slowly turn toward Sunghoon, and he simply blinks with an air of complete indifference as the professor praises him in front of everyone. But your gaze misses no detail: his tail instinctively rises, his ears stand up with pride, the faint blush coloring his cheeks.

You lean on your hand, watching him with your mouth slightly open. "You... are a fucking genius?"

Sunghoon slowly turns toward you and, for the first time, actually smiles. But it’s not a kind smile. It’s the smile of someone who’s enjoying every second of your surprise. 'Surprised?'

You blink, then cross your arms with a smirk. "I never would’ve guessed. I thought your only talent was being a bastard with me."

He tilts his head, his ears moving slightly. 'I can do both.'

At the end of the lesson, you walk up to him with a new lollipop between your fingers and offer it to him with a cheeky smile. "As a reward for your grade!"

Sunghoon looks down at the candy, then turns back to you with an arched eyebrow. 'Are you stupid or deaf?'

You place a hand over your chest, pretending to be offended. "Oh, such manners! I know exactly what you said." You take a step closer, tilting your head to the side. "But you know by now, right? I like to annoy you."

He takes a deep breath, as if holding back the urge to tell you to go to hell, then shakes his head with a cynical smile. 'And I’m supposed to like something just because YOU decide so?'

"Exactly," you reply without hesitation.

Sunghoon stares at you for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with you. Then he shakes his head, completely ignoring your offer, and stuffs his books into his backpack.

You sigh, swinging the lollipop between your fingers. "So, will you help me study for the next test? I want a 100 too."

Sunghoon stops for a moment, his jaw tightening slightly. He looks you up and down as if assessing whether your request is worth even a second of his time.

Then, with a slow, provocative smile, he takes a step closer. Close enough for his fresh, sharp scent to envelop you, a stark contrast to your sweet strawberry and cream scent.

He leans slightly toward you, his face dangerously close to yours. 'And why should I help you, princess?' he murmurs, his voice low and full of challenge.

You don’t lower your gaze. You don’t give him that satisfaction. You just smile. "Because I’m nice and cute."

Sunghoon chuckles softly, a sound almost amused, then straightens up. 'No.'

You freeze for a second. "No?"

He grabs his backpack and walks past you without sparing you another glance. 'Figure it out.'

You watch him with your eyes as he exits the classroom, a mix of irritation and amusement bubbling in your chest.

You tighten the lollipop between your fingers and make a smile spread across your lips, and you can’t wait for the next class to torment and tease Park Sunghoon, the hybrid rabbit.

The condominium where you lived was perfect for you: close enough to the university to make it there on time even if you stayed out late, but far enough to avoid the chaos of the campus. Plus, the best shops and cafes in the city were just a few steps away, making it easy to satisfy your sudden cravings for something sweet or an iced coffee.

That afternoon, with a mountain of bags in your hands and zero desire to climb four flights of stairs, you called the elevator. You were about to relax against the wall when, just a second before the doors closed, a shoe got wedged between them, forcing them to reopen.

And, of course, it was Sunghoon.

He was wearing a basketball tank top, the lightweight fabric clinging to his body still damp with sweat, exposing sculpted biceps and hinting at the perfect chest you could just barely see underneath the fabric. The basketball shorts revealed his muscular legs, and his tail flicked slightly behind him, betraying a restlessness his face didn’t show.

As soon as he saw you, he rolled his eyes as if the universe was out to get him. He didn’t say anything, just took a bottle of water to his lips, drinking in large sips as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

And damn, even that made him look incredibly attractive.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, watching him as his throat worked, water droplets sliding down his sharp jawline. Then he turned to you, absentmindedly licking his lower lip before giving you an annoying smirk.

'What’s up, princess? Did the lollipop go down the wrong way?'

Instead of answering his provocation, you tilted your head to the side, looking at him with a sly smile. “Since we live on the same floor, why don’t we study together? We could help each other out.”

Sunghoon chuckled softly, slowly capping his water bottle. 'I don’t think so.'

“And why not?” You crossed your arms, your tone deliberately mischievous.

He took a step closer, filling the space between you with his warm, slightly electric presence. He looked down at you, then took a deep breath, as if evaluating something.

'I don’t like your smell.'

You stiffened for a second, his low and direct voice hitting you harder than you expected. You stared at him, confused. “What?”

Sunghoon ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking his head slightly.

'It’s not that you stink. It’s just that… my hybrid self doesn’t find you attractive and can’t stand the scent and perfume your human skin gives off.'

You stared at him, surprised by how brutally he said it. You’d never been rejected like that in your life. You almost felt shocked by the slight discomfort that pricked at your stomach.

But you’d never let him see it. So you smiled, a venomous and cheeky grin. “What a shame, Sunghoon. I, on the other hand, find your scent very interesting.” You took a step closer, your strawberry and cream scent filling the space between you. “Maybe you should try getting to know me better before you speak.”

He snorted, but for a second—just a second—you saw his fingers twitch slightly. And in that moment, his tail flicked again, though he did everything to keep it still.

The elevator dinged as it stopped, but Sunghoon didn’t move right away. He looked at you with that gaze that always seemed to judge you, always guarded as if you were an annoying waste of time.

'So you like my scent, huh?' he repeated, his voice laced with sharp sarcasm. 'I have to admit, it’s the first time I’ve heard a girl say she likes the smell of post-workout sweat.'

He took a step closer, tilting his head slightly as he looked you up and down. 'Or maybe you’re just one of those who likes to be with hybrids because it’s cool, hm?'

This time, you were the one to snort. “Are you always this full of yourself?” You crossed your arms, lifting your chin challengingly. “I’m just telling you that hybrids smell different from humans. I didn’t say I wanted to roll around in your sweat, Sunghoon.”

He smirked, that signature asshole expression on his face. 'Too bad. I thought you were one of those weird girls who like hybrid pheromones.'

You stepped out of the elevator with a sigh, but instead of letting him go, you planted yourself right in front of him in the hallway.

unghoon looked down at you, and for a moment, the contrast between your height and his seemed to amuse him. Then, though, he switched back to “asshole mode.” 'Don’t block the way, princess. I need to go shower.'

But you planted yourself in front of him, and maybe you shouldn’t have started this conversation.

“I did some research on rabbit hybrids.”

You immediately saw his expression change, as if he was already bracing himself for the nonsense you were about to say. 'Should I be honored?'

You ignored his sarcasm and pressed on. “I discovered a lot of interesting things. For example… rabbit hybrids have a different kind of heat than other hybrids. It’s not just once a year like for some predators… no, their cycle is much more frequent. Depending on the individual, it can happen multiple times in just a few months. A real hassle, right?”

Sunghoon stayed still, but you noticed how his jaw tightened slightly.

You smiled and continued. “Ah, and then there’s the knot.”

This time, you saw him stiffen.

“I’ve never quite understood the mechanism,” you continued, feigning innocence. “But, during heat, a rabbit hybrid has a physiological response that… locks them to their partner for a while. It’s for reproduction, right?”

Sunghoon stared at you, his eyes slits. Then, slowly, his lip curled into a disdainful grin.

'And is this your twisted way of telling me you want to fuck me?'

You hesitated for just a moment but recovered in an instant.

“No, it’s my twisted way of letting you know that I know things about you that maybe even other humans don’t.”

He chuckled softly, his tail swishing slightly behind him as if the whole conversation entertained him. 'And did you find anything else in your research, little detective?'

“Yes.” You placed a hand on your hip, tilting your head. “Like how rabbit hybrids enjoy physical contact. It’s not an instinctual thing like it is for canines, it’s more psychological. They love being touched, caressed, bitten…” You paused to enjoy the look on his face. “But only when they truly trust the girl or ‘mate’ that’s theirs.”

Sunghoon snorted. 'Oh yeah? And where did you find this information, on a blog for girls obsessed with hybrids?'

“No, scientific studies. Oh, and one more thing… rabbit hybrids are territorial.”

This time, you saw him grip his water bottle tighter. He was listening, even though he pretended not to care.

“They don’t like sharing what they consider ‘theirs.’ Whether it’s space, objects… or people.”

Sunghoon burst out laughing, a low, mocking sound. 'And what do you want to prove with all this pseudo-science? That you’re an expert on me?'

You shrugged. “I’m just saying that the more I watch you, the more I understand things about you.”

He took a step closer, and this time, his expression shifted slightly. He was still cocky, but there was something sharper behind it.

'And if I told you that my hybrid self doesn’t find you interesting?'

You stopped for a moment, then looked at him with a dangerous smile. “Then why don’t you stop staring at me?”

Sunghoon licked his lower lip and chuckled quietly. Then he walked past you, giving you a light shove as he headed for his door.

'Instead of wasting time with your stalker research, you should study economics.'

“Oh, really? My highest grade was 75, so if we studied together, you could give me some tips.” You said, stepping closer to him.

Sunghoon glanced over his shoulder, the smile still painted on his lips. 'I’d rather get caught in a rabbit trap.'

And with that, he slammed the door to his room behind him. Fine. If he wanted to play, you were more than willing to join in.

That morning, you walked into class before the bell rang, a dark expression on your face and your usual nervous tic kicking in: tapping your foot against the floor. You were furious.

Some bastard had stolen your favorite strawberry and cream lollipop from the café downstairs, leaving you with only the watermelon ones. Sure, they were good, but they weren’t the same. The taste was too fresh, too light, missing that perfect balance of sweetness and creaminess you adored.

You sat down at your usual spot, right next to Sunghoon, and continued to sulk, distractedly twirling the lollipop between your lips.

When he walked in and saw your funeral face, that familiar mischievous smile appeared on his lips. He dropped into his chair with that predator-like grace of his, one arm resting on the desk and the other idly playing with a pen.

'What tragedy happened, princess? Did they ruin your manicure?'

You shot him a withering look and kept sucking on the lollipop with a frown.

Sunghoon tilted his head, studying you. Then he leaned in a bit, sniffing the air with that hybrid instinct of his and letting out a soft laugh.

'Watermelon?' He raised an eyebrow, his tone mocking. 'Finally, a more decent scent compared to that horrible strawberry and cream.'

You snapped your head toward him, dramatically pointing the lollipop stick at his face.

“Don’t you ever say that again.” Your voice was thick with indignation. “The strawberry and cream lollipop is the best, the king of all sweets. This”—you waved the watermelon lollipop in front of him—“is just a sad replacement.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair with that typical smug attitude. 'Oh really? Then why aren’t you eating it with your usual enthusiasm? Don’t tell me they ran out at the café.'

Your pout deepened. “Of course, they ran out. Someone bought them all, and there won’t be more until next week.”

He whistled low, amused. 'Well, look at that. There must be someone with your terrible taste.'

You crossed your arms and shot him a dirty look. “It’s a crime against humanity. If I find out who did this…”

You had no idea that Sunghoon had at least twenty strawberry and cream lollipops in his backpack. He bought them all just to piss you off. He loved seeing you like this, with that fire in your eyes and the pout on your lips. It was way too fun.

But he decided to push things a little further.

'You know, I really don’t get all this obsession…' he said nonchalantly, leaning forward.

And before you could even realize what was happening, his lips closed around your lollipop.

Your eyes went wide.

Slowly, with a bold and far too sensual move, Sunghoon sucked on the sweet, letting it slide between his lips in a languid motion. The stick was still between your fingers, but the sugary part was now wrapped in the warmth of his mouth.

His tail flicked slightly behind him, almost involuntarily. His ears, usually standing high and still, turned a light pink, and for just a moment, his cheeks… they warmed up.

Then you heard a low sound, almost a grunt.

You froze.

You had read about this in that scientific blog on rabbit hybrids. That sound… meant he was experiencing pleasure.

You stared at him, stunned.

Sunghoon licked his lower lip as he released the lollipop, looking at you with a smug grin.

'You know, maybe strawberry and cream isn’t so bad after all.'

You couldn’t say anything for a moment, too focused on the image you’d just seen. The way his lips had closed around the sweet, the slight tremor of his ears, that guttural sound he tried to suppress…

Damn.

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

The professor began the lesson, and Sunghoon immediately got to work, filling his notebook with notes with an almost unsettling precision. He seemed like a machine, his gaze fixed on the board, the pen moving across the page without hesitation.

You, on the other hand, were less… efficient.

You tried to keep up, really, but some concepts slipped through your fingers like sand. And then there was him. Always composed, always perfect, always… infuriatingly capable.

Absentmindedly, you chewed on the stick of your now-empty lollipop while writing, trying to solve an exercise. When the professor wrote the correct answer on the board, you glanced down at your notebook and noticed the difference.

Damn it.

You huffed, crossing your arms in frustration. You weren’t stupid, in fact, but some mistakes drove you crazy. How could you be in the advanced course if you kept making these stupid errors?

A shadow moved next to you.

'You’ve swapped these two numbers,' a low, confident voice murmured.

You turned and found Sunghoon leaning over you, a finger pointing at the error in your notebook. His tone was authoritative, almost nerdishly precise, but the way he moved closer… too close… almost made you forget his cheeky attitude.

You shot him a sideways glance, frowning.

“Oh. Right.”

'Mh.' He nodded, then returned to his notes without saying anything more.

But you weren’t the type to be discouraged. You tried another exercise under his watchful gaze, this time focusing to avoid making stupid mistakes. Yet, when you finished and checked…

Wrong again.

Once more, the final calculation didn’t match the one written on the board.

You sighed in exasperation, running a hand through your hair. Without even realizing you were speaking aloud, you muttered:

“How the hell did I get into this advanced course if I keep making these stupid mistakes?”

Sunghoon turned toward you with a smirk.

'Good question, princess.'

You shot him a death stare, ready to snap back, but then, with a lower and almost amused tone, he added:

'If you want to avoid embarrassing yourself during the exams, you can study with me.'

You stared at him, surprised. Did he just… invite you to study together?

But before you could answer, he stood up, casually stuffing his notebook into his bag with far too much-studied calm.

'But only if you can shut up and focus,' he added, his voice thick with challenge.

You followed Sunghoon without even noticing that some of the other students were calling out to you. The world around you seemed blurry, the background noise nothing more than an indistinct hum, and then, without thinking too much, your hand instinctively grabbed his arm.

It was an instinctive hold, almost an innocent gesture. Yet, Sunghoon’s body reacted immediately. His ears perked up, and his tail began to flick in a barely noticeable motion as if his body was torn between surprise and something else.

He looked down at you, his dark eyes veiled with something hard to decipher. Curiosity? Annoyance? Interest?

But his gaze was also sharp as if the contact had unintentionally put him on alert. You looked up at him and, without pulling your hand away, asked with a hint of defiance:

“Are you messing with me?”

He raised an eyebrow, his usual cocky attitude intact. 'I don’t like to joke.'

You pressed your lips together slightly, still skeptical. “So… we’re studying together?”

He sighed, turning his face slightly to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. 'If you don’t want to fail miserably at the course, I guess, I don’t have a choice.'

You nodded, satisfied. “Perfect. Can I come over to your place this afternoon?”

Sunghoon stiffened for a moment; then he made a face and turned to you with a slightly annoyed expression. 'NO.'

You froze. “No?”

'NO.' His nose scrunched slightly as if he were smelling something unpleasant. “I don’t like your scent.”

The comment hit you harder than you expected, and you pulled away slightly, trying not to show the slight discomfort it caused. He didn’t like your scent? You showered every day, wore a nice perfume, and your skin always smelled like strawberries and cream. No one had ever complained—quite the opposite—but then you remembered.

Sunghoon wasn’t human. He was a hybrid. And hybrids had different needs. Different sensitivities.

You looked at him with slightly furrowed brows. “What does that mean? That I’d invade your territory?”

He nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 'Exactly.'

You made a dramatic expression, clutching your heart as if he had just stabbed you. “Oh no! How will I ever survive? I, poor human, rejected by your sacred kingdom!”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. 'Would you stop being so theatrical?'

"NO."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. 'I’ll come to your place at five. First, I need to go to the gym.'

You looked at him, surprised. “OH.” Then you nodded, trying not to look too pleased. “Alright then.”

Sunghoon shifted slightly, and your hands slid away from him.

As he walked away, not looking back, you heard him grunt softly.

A grunt of pleasure, and your eyes widened.

He’d just told you he didn’t like your scent. And yet… his body had reacted to your touch.

When Sunghoon entered your room, he immediately sensed something was off.

The scent of strawberries and cream, the one he hated to admit he adored, was weaker, covered by the sweet, enveloping fragrance of vanilla. He wrinkled his nose, his ears twitching slightly, and his tail flicked behind him.

It was irritating—irritating because he liked your scent, irritating because he liked it too much, irritating because he knew exactly what it meant for a hybrid like him.

He watched you as you casually fixed your hair, your solitary princess-like air, your clothes always just a little too short, a little too tight, and your sweet but cheeky smile that made him so damn frustrated.

Why did you always have to be so annoying?

Why did you always have to be so damn attractive?

He slumped down onto your desk chair with a bored expression, but his eyes didn’t miss a single detail of your figure.

Your pink cardigan covered a light tank top that moved slightly with each breath you took, the short skirt revealing your smooth thighs…

'Tsk.' He shook his head. 'This room is exactly what I expected… Too much like a spoiled little girl’s.'

You raised an eyebrow, hands on your hips. “What do you mean, ‘too much like a spoiled little girl’?”

He allowed himself a sarcastic grin. 'White and pink everywhere, a scent that smells like it came straight out of a bakery… It’s like you’re trying to seduce someone with just the smell.'

You stepped closer with an innocent smile. “It’s not my fault hybrids have such sensitive noses.”

The way you said it, with that sweet, innocent voice, made him clench his jaw.

There was something unbearable about you, and it wasn’t just your popular princess attitude, it was the way you knew exactly how to make him want to put you in your place.

And the way, damn it, every single part of your body seemed made to be touched, held, bitten—Damn it, he had to get a grip.

'By the way,' he muttered, looking away and crossing his arms, 'that vanilla candle isn’t doing much to cover your scent.'

You stopped, surprised. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. 'I mean your scent is everywhere. It’s not just on your skin, it’s in here, soaked into the air, the bed, the clothes… probably even the carpet.'

You bit your lip, as if considering something, and he immediately looked down at it, cursing himself.

It was soft, too soft, and he wanted to take it between his teeth and—

No, stop. You flashed him a sly smile. “Are you sure you don’t like my scent, then?”

Sunghoon shot you a sharp look, his tail flicking slightly. 'Are you sure you want to play with me, princess?'

Your smile grew even more provocative. “Maybe.”

He leaned slightly forward, his eyes dropping to your lips, to your hands playing with your skirt, as if you were unaware of how much of your thighs you were exposing.

Asshole or not, he was still a guy, a hybrid with amplified senses.

And your body was speaking louder than you thought. It was maddening, it was irritating, you were excited.

Sunghoon shook himself out of those thoughts and ran a hand through his hair, looking annoyed. 'Look, instead of wasting time flirting, how about we try solving these exercises?'

You looked at him with sweet eyes, but the cheekiness never left your expression. “Flirting? Me?”

'Oh, don’t play innocent.' He chuckled with a tight-lipped smile. 'You know what? Let’s make it a game.'

Curious, you tilted your head. “A game?”

'Yes.' He relaxed in the chair, crossing his arms behind his head, his tone becoming more provocative. 'If you solve three problems out of five, I’ll give you a gift.'

Your eyes lit up instantly. “A gift? What kind of gift?”

He leaned slightly forward, coming closer to your face. 'You’ll only find out if you win.'

Sunghoon shot you a sharp glance as you focused on his notes. 'Repeat the concepts out loud. Clearly, without mistakes.'

You rolled your eyes but obeyed.

After a solid half-hour of reading, processing, and understanding, he nodded in approval. 'Good. Now put it into practice. Solve these problems, identify the right concept, and calculate.'

You bit your lip as you picked up the pen and started writing. Sunghoon sat beside you, arms crossed, eyes locked onto your movements. Every time you made a mistake, he corrected you with a firm voice—almost too authoritative.

And that entertained you way too much.

“Are you always this strict?” you asked with a teasing smile, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him playfully.

He didn’t even flinch. 'Are you always this distracted?' he shot back with a sarcastic smirk.

“No, it’s just that your voice is so deep and commanding that I find it hard to concentrate.” Your tone was deliberately sultry, and you loved the way his ears twitched slightly in response.

Sunghoon threw you a piercing look. 'Stop playing and finish the problems.'

You bit your lip to hide a smile as you returned to writing, but his unwavering stare made it difficult to focus.

More than an hour later, you sighed and stretched with a small, satisfied hum before handing him the papers. You leaned in a little closer, resting your arm against his, barely brushing against him.

Sunghoon gritted his teeth.

“What?” you asked with a mischievous grin.

'Go sit somewhere else. I need to correct these.'

You huffed but, feigning innocence, curled up on your bed. Sunghoon’s eyes flickered to your exposed thighs for a split second before returning to your exercises.

You watched him as he corrected them—his tense jaw, his large hands gripping the pen with confidence. He was handsome. Too handsome for your good.

And as you watched, your mind started to wander.

To how it would feel to kiss him.

To how it would feel to brush your fingers over his ears while his lips trailed down your neck.

To how his hands would feel on your body.

To how it would feel to have him inside you, his knot swelling as he filled you.

To how his breath would hitch as he sank deeper, to how it would feel to have him push until you lost your mind.

To how he would look above you—naked, his ears lowered, his sculpted chest glistening with sweat as his dark eyes devoured you.

You clutched your stuffed bunny tighter against your chest, letting out an involuntary sigh.

And you didn’t immediately realize that Sunghoon had finished grading your exercises. When you finally looked up, he was standing right in front of you.

His tail was flicking rapidly, almost uncontrollably.

His ears were lowered, and his eyes were fixed on you.

'What the hell were you just thinking about?' he murmured in a low, almost dangerous voice.

And the way he looked at you only made you want to push his buttons even more. You swallowed and shifted onto your knees on the bed, trying to appear natural, even as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Well?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation away from whatever he had just implied. “How did I do on the exercises?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms, his dark, piercing gaze never leaving you. 'I asked you a question first.'

You bit your lip and looked away. Damn it. He had noticed everything.

He smirked, his tail giving a small flick—a sign that he was enjoying this. 'Why are you blushing, princess?' His tone was teasing, but there was something else in his eyes.

You shook your head, trying to deny it, but his gaze dropped to your legs. He noticed how you had instinctively pressed them together and scoffed. 'Tsk. So it’s true.'

Heat exploded in your chest.

'You were thinking dirty thoughts about me,' he continued, his voice almost amused, 'while hugging a damn bunny plushie.'

His eyes flicked to the stuffed animal still in your arms.

You clutched it tighter against your chest on reflex. “This bunny has a name!” you shot back, desperately trying to change the subject.

'Oh yeah?' He leaned down, effortlessly snatching the plushie from your arms. 'What’s its name?'

“Mochi…” you mumbled, crossing your arms with a pout.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, inspecting the plush with a raised brow. 'Mochi, huh?' Then, after a brief moment, he tossed it carelessly beside you. With his usual authoritative tone, he pressed on, 'Now, tell me exactly what you were thinking'

You knew that if you kept denying it, he wouldn’t let it go. He wasn’t the type to back down. And honestly… you enjoyed playing with him.

So, with a shameless smile and a sweet voice, you tilted your head. “I was thinking about you.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

“About what it would be like to kiss you.”

His ears twitched slightly.

“To run my fingers over your ears while you kissed my neck.”

His tail gave a small, sharp flick, and his gaze darkened.

“To feel your hands on me…” Your voice dropped lower, deliberately sultry. “And to feel you inside me.”

For a moment, a thick silence filled the room. Sunghoon remained completely still, his jaw clenching as he stared at you with hungry eyes.

Then, he let out a small scoff, shaking his head with an incredulous smirk. 'You’re completely insane.'

“You asked,” you replied innocently, batting your lashes.

He studied you for another moment before reaching into his backpack.

He pulled out a strawberry and cream lollipop.

Your eyes lit up instantly as he unwrapped it slowly, deliberately teasing you.

'You got three exercises right,' he said, his voice slightly softer as he stepped a little closer. 'And a good student deserves a reward.'

He handed you the candy, and without thinking twice, you brought it to your lips and took it between your teeth, savoring the sweet taste you loved so much but you didn't even have time to really enjoy it before Sunghoon’s fingers rested under your chin, lifting your face towards him.

Your eyes widened slightly when his low, almost hoarse voice ordered you:

'Suck on it. And look at me.'

His eyes were fixed on yours, dark and intense. For the first time, despite his arrogance and the fact that he was being a complete jerk, you noticed something different in his gaze.

Was it sweetness? Only for a second, because his dark eyes were glued to your lips every time you sucked on the lollipop. Your tongue slowly gathered the sugary sweetness, and he felt an annoying heat spread across his chest. His tail, which until then had been moving in a measured rhythm, started to move faster behind him, a clear sign of his growing restlessness.

He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the growl that escaped his lips. Why the hell were you having this effect on him? Why did you insist on looking at him with those innocent eyes while doing anything but innocent things?

Suddenly, without warning, he grabbed your wrist and pressed the lollipop against his lips. His teeth sank into the candy with a soft crack, breaking it. The sugar melted on his tongue, the sweet taste filled his mouth... and he growled quietly, almost amused.

Then, without giving you time to react, he lowered himself onto you and kissed you with overwhelming force.

His lips were warm, and confident. The kiss was a mixture of sweetness and dominance, as if he was trying to punish you for every thought you'd dared to have about him.

You let out a surprised moan, and when he heard it, his tail stiffened for a moment before starting to move even more agitatedly.

You, of course, couldn’t miss the opportunity to tease him. Pulling away just slightly from his lips, you whispered with a mischievous smile:

“Wasn’t it you who said you hated the taste of strawberry and cream?”

Sunghoon looked at you, his chest rising and falling slightly from his irregular breathing, then clenched his jaw. Without saying a word, he grabbed you again and kissed you with even more intensity, as if he wanted to erase that cheeky smile from your lips.

You, amused, slipped your fingers into his dark, soft hair, gripping it slightly, and pulled him even closer to you. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, feel his muscles tense beneath your hands, smell the slightly wild scent of his skin blending with your vanilla and sugar scent.

Eventually, Sunghoon pulled away from you with a heavy breath, his eyes darker than ever.

''You’re impossible,' he murmured, lowering his gaze to your flushed lips.

“And you’re a liar,” you replied with a little smile, slowly licking your lower lip, still covered in sugar.

Sunghoon growled softly, his tail twitching in an involuntary jerk. Then, almost as a punishment, he gently pushed you against your pillows and lowered his head to your neck.

His warm breath grazed your skin, and then you felt his lips brush against you with agonizing slowness. One kiss, then another, then a soft bite on your delicate skin.

'You shouldn’t have thought those things about me,' he whispered against your neck, his voice a mixture of amusement and danger.

You shivered, but you certainly had no intention of backing down.

“You shouldn’t have listened to my thoughts, then.”

Sunghoon smiled against your skin, his low, deep laugh making you vibrate slightly beneath him. Then he lifted himself just enough to look at you with those sharp eyes, full of something you still couldn’t quite decipher.

'You drive me crazy, every day.'

You chuckled softly, your fingers still in his soft gray ears. You felt them twitch slightly under your touch, and when you gently squeezed them between your fingers, Sunghoon growled and a low moan escaped his lips. The sound sent a shiver down your spine.

'You’re playing with fire, you know that?' he murmured against your lips, his voice deep and hoarse with desire.

“Mh, I know,” you replied with a sweet smile, kissing him again.

His hands settled on your hips with a firm, almost possessive grip, and you could feel his tail thrashing frantically behind him. The kiss grew more intense, and hungrier, and you melted into his arms. Then, without thinking too much, you took his hand and placed it under your skirt.

Sunghoon stiffened instantly, his ears flattened backward, and his eyes darkened. The low growl that escaped him vibrated between you two.'“I don’t want to hurt you,' he whispered, with a sincerity that made you melt.

You smiled softly, biting your lip.

“You won’t.” He sighed heavily, his gaze burning as his fingers barely moved against your warm skin.

'You know too well that I could.' You tilted your head and gently brushed your fingers against his cheek, looking at him sweetly.

“Actually, I’ve studied a bit more about rabbit hybrids…”

At those words, Sunghoon raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, briefly returning to the cheeky and authoritative guy he usually was.

'Oh, really? And what did you discover about me this time?'

You hesitated for a moment, then, with a bit of shyness, you asked him:

“Are you in heat?”

Sunghoon stared at you for a moment before bursting out laughing, a deep, incredibly sexy sound.

'If I were in heat, trust me, I wouldn’t be here talking to you so calmly. I’d already jumped on you.'

You sighed theatrically, placing a hand on your chest.

“Phew! Thank goodness, I wouldn’t know how to handle you if you were in heat too... you’re already hard enough to handle normally.”

He growled quietly and grabbed you by the waist, pushing you back under him.

'Oh, sweetheart... and I thought you liked me precisely because I’m hard to handle.'

His mouth found your neck, and between one kiss and a soft bite, he asked with a low and intriguing voice:

'So, what else have you discovered about me?'

You blushed slightly, your hands still in his soft ears.

“Well… I read that rabbit hybrids are very territorial, that they can become a little obsessive with those they’re interested in... and that when they find someone they truly want, they won’t let go.”

Sunghoon raised his head, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous.

'Mh… true,' he whispered with a mischievous smile. 'And what else?'

You hesitated, then murmured:

“That... that rabbit hybrids have a knot, and that... when they want to claim someone, they don’t stop until they’re completely satisfied.”

Sunghoon licked his lips, his eyes locked on yours, then lowered his head near your ear.

'Sweetheart…' he whispered with a grin against your skin. 'If you keep talking like that, I’ll end up showing you exactly how true the things you’ve read are.'

“I read… I read other things about rabbit hybrids too.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, amused by your hesitant tone. His fingers absentmindedly brushed your bare thigh without pushing further.

'Mh… like what?' he asked, his deep voice still nibbling gently at your neck, leaving little red marks on your skin.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I read that... rabbit hybrids have a lot of stamina. Much more than humans.”

He smiled against your skin.

'True,' he murmured. 'We could go on all night without a problem…'

He teased you, and you felt the heat rise in your body. But it wasn’t over.

“And I also read that... when a rabbit hybrid is with the partner they’ve chosen, they become much more affectionate. That they need constant contact, hugs, and cuddles, even in the most ordinary moments.”

Sunghoon stopped kissing you for a moment and propped himself up on his elbow, looking at you with a sly smile.

'Oh, so you want to know what I’d be like if I were your boyfriend?'

You nodded, biting your lower lip a little.

“I read that rabbit hybrids can’t stand being away from the person they want. That when they get attached, they become a little... obsessive.”

He chuckled, and his gaze grew darker.

'So, are you implying that I’d be obsessed with you?'

You shrugged with a little smile.

“Maybe, yes?” Sunghoon shook his head, laughing softly.

“For now, I’m enjoying torturing you too much.”

He pricked your hip and you laughed, but immediately held your breath when you felt his fingers slide a little higher, under your skirt. He lowered his head and went back to suck on your neck, while his hand grazed the inside of your thighs, rising more and more.

"I also read..." you began, but your breath became shorter when the tips of his fingers touched the thin fabric of your panties.

'Mh? Continue, I'm curious.' he said with a smirk, without stopping.

"I read that the knot of a rabbit hybrid can last a long time and that when you're in heat, it can be swollen for hours." Sunghoon giggled his mouth still on your neck, and gave you a little bite.

'Mh... Interesting. Want to know how long it would normally last? Nod, blushing.

'Depend.' he whispered, his voice lower and velvety.

'But in the heat, I couldn't stop until I was sure I'd filled you up several times.'

A shiver ran through your back, and without even noticing, your legs tightened slightly. Sunghoon immediately noticed him and giggled, sliding his hand against your intimacy still covered in cloth.

'Are you wet already, sweetie?' he whispered, his fingers gently stroking the damp cloth. You swallowed and he lifted his face, looking at you with a mischievous grin.

'What color are they?' You blushed even more and looked down.

"I'm not telling you." Sunghoon laughed quietly and shook his head.

'Mh... then I guess.' he said, approaching your ear.

'Pale Rose ... with a nice white bow in the center.'

Your breath froze and he looked you in the eye, amused. 'Did I guess?' You nodded softly, biting your lip, and he smiled smugly.

'I knew you were the cute panties girl.' he muttered, sliding even closer, making you feel all the warmth of his body.

'You drive me crazy day after day, you know?' Sunghoon watched you from above, his breathing slightly heavier as his hands slid confidently down your thighs. His rabbit ears barely moved, attentive to your every sigh, while his tail swayed with a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm.

'Tomorrow if you put on this skirt again everyone will see my bites,' he whispered, his voice low and slightly hoarse, with a satisfied grin. His fingers traced invisible paths on your skin, leaving chills everywhere. 'Maybe you should think twice before challenging me like this.' You groaned slowly, biting your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much that phrase of hers had affected you.

"Oh? What if I did it on purpose?" you teased him with an innocent smile, which you knew would drive him crazy. Sunghoon growled softly, a deep, throaty sound that made his chest vibrate against yours. His dark, intense eyes shone with something predatory as he bent over you, his lips brushing against your neck.

'You're such a problem,' he muttered against your skin, leaving you a wet kiss before sucking hard, etching a dark mark right where he knew it would be hard to cover. His smile widened as he watched him contentedly, and then he looked at you with a more serious expression, his tone suddenly deeper.

'Do you want it?' he asked, his hand gently caressing you, in contrast to his voice charged with desire and warning. 'Because if I do... you will never go back.' There was something wild about him at that moment, something primal that made you want to provoke him again, but also to give him everything. You nodded, biting your lip, and his eyes darkened even more. Sunghoon giggled softly, his fingers slid higher, exploring, skimming, and then stopped right where you wanted most. He leaned over you, his mouth next to your ear as his warm breath tickled your skin. 'You're already so wet,' he whispered, the tone smug, almost mocking. 'And I didn't even really touch you.' You felt burned with embarrassment, but at the same time, you could not hold back a small moan when his fingers barely touched you, tracing lazy, provocative movements.

'Who knows how long you'd last with my knot,' he continued, laughing slightly as he played with you, watching your every reaction.

'As normal I could keep you tied up for quite a while... but what if I'm in heat?' he paused, letting the idea hit you, and then came even closer, his lips barely against yours.

'It could last a lot.' Swallow, feeling your body reacts to his words in a way you knew he had noticed. Sunghoon smiled against your skin, his satisfaction evident. 'Tell me, princess,' she continued, her voice like dark velvet. 'Are you sure you can handle me?'

Your bed looked smaller with Sunghoon above you. Or maybe it was he who seemed bigger to you, his warm body touching yours, his ears moving imperceptibly as he listened to your every breath.

'I can't believe you made me come here...' he muttered, his voice a breath against your skin. 'And for what? To see you blush and tremble like that?' The smile that curved his lips was the perfect expression of his character: mischievous, amused, but also dangerously sweet. He looked at you as if you were the most interesting game he had ever found. You tried to gather some courage, to respond with the same confident tone that he used to use with you. "Maybe you're shaking, Hoon."

You saw him raise an eyebrow. 'Oh? Are you trying to tease me?' Your body had a little gasp when a finger of his entered your pussy already completely excited. He was slow, maddening as if he had all the time in the world. 'How cute...' he whispered, tilting her head to the side.

'But do you know what the problem is, Y/n' He lowered his face until he touched your ear, his voice so low and velvety that it made you shudder. 'You're playing with a rabbit hybrid. And we never lose.' His ears moved, picking up how your breathing had broken, how your heartbeat had become faster. He laughed quietly.

'You feel it too, don't you? The way your body responds to me without me even having to strain.' The finger that was dent of you began to pump it faster and faster with more determination. A little groan eluded you, and Sunghoon bit his lip. 'Mm ... already so sensitive? But I didn't even start, baby.'

You felt like you were being blown away by the way he called you. "Stop making fun of me..." you muttered, but your voice had no conviction.

'Oh, no, no, no...' Sunghoon shook his head, an amused smile on his lips. 'See, I can't do that. It's too much fun watching you fight against something you know you can't win.' he teased your clitoris and without telling you anything he let another finger into your vaginal folds and grinned at the sight of how soaked and how you were taking them well, and when your body reacted immediately, his laugh was almost smug. 'See? It's useless. Your body is already begging me.' Frustration made you clench your fists on the sheets.

"H-Hoon..."

'Mmmh?' His tone was playful, but his eyes were dark, hungry.

'Tell me, love. What would you like?' Love. The way the word had slipped out of his lips gave you chills. There was something in the way he said it, in the sweetness contrasting with his possessive touch, that drove you crazy. And Sunghoon knew it. Oh, how much he knew.

"V-I want..." you tried to talk, but he interrupted you.

'Do you want me to continue? Want to hear more? Or do you want me to slowly drive you crazy until you are no longer able to think about anything but me?' Your body responded before your mind. You clung to his shoulders, your breath now broken. Sunghoon tilted his head, pleased. 'Oh, baby ... you've already lost, you know that, right?' He was made for this. To perceive you. To understand you more than you yourself could do. His fingers moved inside you with maddening slowness, yet the pressure and depth were perfect. You felt completely in his power, your body responding to him in ways that even you couldn't control. Sunghoon looked at you, his eyes dark and deep, as his chest rose and fell with irregular breaths.

'God, Y/n' Look how you're squeezing around my fingers.' His ears moved frantically, picking up your every broken breath, every slightest sound that escaped from your lips. Every time you moaned, every time your body trembled under his touch, Sunghoon felt something inside him light up more and more. The hybrid inside him wanted more. But he had to be cautious. When you asked him to study together that morning, his instincts leaped joy. Spending time with you, smelling your scent more closely ... was all she wanted. But then you said those innocent words, without even imagining the devastating effect they would have on him.

"Can I come to you, then?" Sunghoon had almost lost control at the time. Nope. It was his immediate response, dry, almost too harsh. But the truth was that he could not allow it. If you had walked into his room, your smell would have soaked everywhere, in his pillows, in his sheets, on his clothes. And with his hybrid heat starting to show... that would be the end for him. It was better to test the soil in your room. And now there you are, in your bed, your body under his, his fingers sinking into you with incredible precision, as if he knew exactly what to do to freak you out.

'Do you like it that way?' he asked with a hoarse whisper, his mouth a few millimeters from yours.

'Do you like it when I touch you like this, when I make you feel all mine?'

You couldn't even answer. You just tightened the sheets with force, the body starting to shake under him. Sunghoon immediately noticed.

His smile widened as he slowed down the pace a bit, making you almost whine in need. 'Wait, wait ... don't tell me that...' His fingers moved deeper, slower but more intense, and your body twitched involuntarily.

'Are you coming?' his voice was a mixture of fun and pure lust. You nodded faintly, your face red with embarrassment. "S-Yes ... continue, please..."

'Oh, sweetie...' he sighed, lowering himself to nibble at your earlobe.

'You don't even have to ask me.' And then you heard it. His thumb slid over your clit, tracing slow, torturing circles. A small cry escaped from your lips, and Sunghoon groaned softly at that sound. 'So sensitive...' he whispered.

'What if I did this?' He pressed lightly, pinching gently, and your body instantly strained, the tension within you now untenable.

'Come for me, Y/N.' His voice was an order disguised as a supplication. 'Just for me.' And as if he had turned on a switch inside you, the pleasure exploded into an electric shock that made you arch your back against him, a broken groan that filled the room. Sunghoon watched you intently as your body trembled under his touch, his irregular breathing as he tried to contain his desire. His fingers moved a couple more times, slowly bringing you down from the apex, and then he retreated, looking at you with a smile full of satisfaction.

'Beautiful...' he muttered, his dark eyes fixed on yours. 'And only for me.' He ducked down to lay a light kiss on your cheek, a surprisingly sweet gesture, almost at odds with the fire still burning in his eyes.

You tried to catch your breath, your legs still shaking but Sunghoon... he didn't seem at all willing to give you a break. You felt his warm breath on your thighs as his hands held you wide open, immobilizing you under his weight. And then his tongue-hot, wet, relentless—slid down your still throbbing flesh. A desperate groan escaped from your lips. "H-Hoon ... what are you doing?!" He laughed softly, his mouth still pressed against you.

'What a stupid question, baby.' His ears moved frantically as if picking up every little sound you made.

'I'm just enjoying my favorite meal.' He licked you again, deeper this time, and you gasped, trying to pull away. But there was no escape. His hands pressed on your thighs with more force, keeping you well open for him. 'Don't you dare run away.' His voice dropped an octave, turning into a barely noticeable growl.

'I'm still eating.' A shiver ran through your back. You had never seen Sunghoon like that—so wild, so obsessed.

'God, your smell...' he sighed, pushing his face even deeper between your legs.

'You have no idea how crazy it makes me.' His tongue slid into you without warning you felt that he slightly sucked your beautiful swollen and sensitive clit, you screamed, your hands clinging to the sheets as your body arched under him. "S-Sunghoon!" He groaned at you, the sound deep and animalistic.

'So tight... so hot...' he licked her lips, collecting every drop of your excitement. 'I want to hear you tremble for me again.'

"N-No... it's too much!" you tried to protest, your body still sensitive from the first orgasm. "I can't take it anymore!"

Sunghoon paused for a moment, looking up at you. His smile was lethal. 'Oh, sweetie...' He sighed with false compassion, slowly running two fingers over your opening. 'Don't tell me lies.' And then he mercilessly shoved his finger inside again and a broken sob escaped you as your body instantly welcomed him, wetter than you would have liked to admit. Sunghoon laughed softly.

'See?' he licked her lower lip, her dark eyes shining with pure lust.

'Your body is begging me for more' He increased the rhythm of his fingers, moving them inside you with frightening precision. Every shot was aimed, deep, perfect. "A-Wait ... Sunghoon!"

You writhe under him, trying to escape from that too-intense pleasure. But his hands held you motionless, his fingers faster and faster, more and more impatient.

'Wait?' He laughed with mockery. 'Why should I? Look how you already take me so well.' Then she ducked again, and her mouth closed on your clit. A scream escaped from your lips, tears stinging at your eyes from too much intensity. 'Shhh...' Sunghoon barely looked up, his warm breath on your sensitive skin. 'Don't whine, Y/N. I know you can give me another one.'

You shook your head hard. "N-no...I can't..." His smile widened dangerously.

'Oh? Can't you?' And without waiting for an answer, he added a third finger. "A-Ah! No ... it's too much!" Sunghoon groaned softly, the sound guttural and animalistic.

'No, honey. It's perfect.' He lowered his face until he touched your ear, his fingers continuing to move mercilessly. 'I must spread you well ...'

he whispered, his voice slipping like poison on your skin. 'You have to be ready to take everything. Because I want to tie you'

Your body froze. He immediately heard it and laughed quietly. 'Oh, yes...' His fingers moved deeper, his thumb lazily playing with your most sensitive point. 'I want to feel your body tighten around my knot. And trust me, baby...' He lifted slightly, his eyes burning with desire as he looked down on you. 'Once it is inside you, you can no longer escape.'

And with that last promise, he sank even deeper, determined to shape you perfectly for himself. Your body was completely surrendered to him, every breath was a moan, every movement an uncontrolled tremor while Sunghoon was lost in the pleasure of devouring you. His fingers were inside you again, long, dexterous, hungry. Each thrust was deeper, more precise, more cruel. And his tongue—that damn tongue-didn't stop, gliding over your most sensitive point with manic dedication.

"S-Sunghoon ... I ..." you stammered, your voice broken with pleasure. He laughed softly, sounding dirty and satisfied against your sensitive skin. 'Oh? You want to tell me something, bunny girl?' You hated Him when he called you that. No, it wasn't. You loved it. His ears barely moved, picking up every little sound you made as his fingers moved faster.

'Mh? Are you so close yet? What a good girl..' His tone was a sweet poison, made to melt you completely. You bit your lip, shame mixed with excitement that made your blood boil. "Yes ... s-I'm coming..."

Sunghoon groaned softly, the sound guttural and animalistic. 'Say it in my language.'

A shiver ran through your back. "C-What...?" He smiled at you, and without warning, closed his lips around your clit and sucked. You screamed, your head throwing back between the sheets.

'Say it.' His voice was low, an order. 'Tell me you're coming, in my language.' You weren't sure you could speak, your head clouded with the pleasure that was overwhelming you. But when his fingers folded into you in the right place, the words escaped from your lips before you even knew it.

"H-Hoon ... s-I'm going to s-squirt..." He groaned at you, his tongue pressing harder as his fingers continued their incessant rhythm.

'Yes ... so, sweetie. Combine a nice mess for me on my tongue.' Another accurate blow, another stronger sucking and the dam broke.

"A-Ah! H-Hoon!" Your body buckled violently, your hands clasping desperately to the pink sheets as the pleasure overwhelmed you with devastating power. The warm, transparent liquid slipped on his fingers, wetting the bed under you. Sunghoon paused for a second, looking with dark, bright eyes at the result of his work. Then she licked her lips, collecting every drop she could with her tongue.

'Look what a mess you made, good girl' His voice was low, dirty, full of pride. 'And to think that you pretend to be innocent.' He teased you, his crooked and dangerous smile as he stared at you from above.

'Did you like to dirty your pink cot?' Redness bursts on your face.

"I ... I'm a good girl!" you protested, your voice weak. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, amused.

'Oh? Are you sure?' His finger crept back into you, slow and deep, as if he wanted to punish you for lying. 'Because your body says the opposite.' You looked at him with shiny eyes, his breathing still irregular. You couldn't stand his satisfied look. So, without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his ears. Sunghoon grunted and made a low, deep, animalistic sound, directly against your clitoris. The vibration jolted you, and before you could stop, the pleasure hit you again, ripping off a second orgasm with a force that left you breathless. Sunghoon laughed quietly, satisfied, as he watched you tremble beneath him.

"N-It wasn't written in the blog..." you gasped, trying to regain control of your voice, "...that the rabbit hybrids were so obsessed with getting their companions to come."

Sunghoon froze for a moment, his ears rising carefully. Then he burst out laughing softly, the sound deep and satisfied. 'Oh, sweetie...' His tail darted with amusement, touching your sensitive skin as his gaze grew even more predatory.

'Are you suggesting that your stupid blogs know more than I do?' He teased you, his tone charged with mischief.

'You're really adorable.' He lowered his face, slowly biting your earlobe before whispering to you in a low, defiant voice: 'Should I show you how little you know about rabbit hybrids?' A shiver ran down your back, but your gaze slipped unwittingly lower, right on him. And when your eyes rested on his sweatpants and the noticeable length he pressed against the fabric, you felt your breath break. It was ... big.

Much more than you expected. And your body reacted before you could even stop. Your instinct told you to take off those pants, to find out what they were hiding, to satisfy the feverish curiosity that had just run over you. But your sweetest and timid side tried to resist. Sunghoon, however, already knew you too well.

'Mh? What is that look?' His voice was full of fun.

'You want something?' You felt yourself burning with embarrassment, but his defiant tone made you grit your teeth. You liked to tease him, you loved to challenge him, play with his limits, and provoke him until you saw his self-control crumble. So, without saying anything, you reached out and grabbed the edge of his suit. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, surprised. 'Oh? Look who takes the initiative...' You ignored him, biting your lip to hide a smile, and with a slow and intentional movement, you lowered both his pants and Boer There was a moment of silence.

Then your eyes opened wide. His cock jumped out, slamming against her abs with a slight bounce. It was long. Long, slightly pinkish, crossed by prominent veins that made it look even more imposing. A drop of pearl liquid was already dripping from the tip, a sign of his excitement that had accumulated to the limit. And for the first time, it was Sunghoon who seemed slightly embarrassed. He ran his hand through the black tufts, looking away for a moment, and his ears drooped slightly. His cheeks turned an imperceptible pink.

He popped his tongue, his jaw clenched. 'What the hell are you looking at me like that?'

"Are you ashamed, Hoon?" You teased him, your voice sweet and sparkling, swinging your feet slightly in the air as if nothing had happened. Sunghoon snorted, immediately returning to his usual confident expression.

'Stop talking nonsense.' But his tail betrayed him. He fidgeted nervously, brushing at you several times as if he could not stand still. You laughed quietly, but your fun was short-lived because a second later, Sunghoon grabbed your chin with two fingers and forced you to look at him. His gaze was dark, his smile dangerous.

'Teasing a hybrid is never a good idea and now...' Its tail slowly wrapped around your thigh, almost immobilizing you. 'Let's see if you can keep that swaggering look when I make you mine for real.' And with a sharp movement, he pushed you back against the bed, his hungry eyes chained to yours. His cock grazed your entrance, sliding along your already wet folds, provoking you with slow, deliberate movements. Sunghoon watched you from above, his body stretched above you, his ears barely moving, catching your every little breath. But when he spoke, his voice sounded more authoritarian than usual.

'Do you take the anti-hybrid pill?' His tone was peremptory, almost threatening. Nod quickly, cheeks on fire.

"S-Yes ... I'll take it..." Sunghoon squinted, his tail moved impatiently, touching your thigh. "So ..." His smile slowly widened.

'Are you telling me you really want it?' You felt your legs tremble.

Your breath was short, almost a whisper. "I want it." Sunghoon lowered his face until he touched your ear, his voice so low it made you shudder. 'You want it inside of you, huh?' He slowly licked the lobe of your ear, the heat of his breath driving you crazy. 'Do you want to be filled? Knotted to me?'

A shiver ran through your back. "Yes, Sunghoon..." you moaned, your body almost begging under his and with a last look that walked you from top to bottom, pushed into you with a single decisive movement.

A scream escaped from your lips. The pleasure mixed with an overwhelming feeling of fullness. It was too much. Too big. Too deep. Sunghoon grunted, his breath broken as he immobilized for a moment inside you.

'Damn... you're so tight...' His ears drooped for a moment, his instinct torn between the need to give you time to adjust and that of fucking you mercilessly.

'Are you all right?' he asked, his voice slightly softer. You reeled, trying to regain control of your body.

"S-Yes... it's just that..." You clutched the sheets, and your belly contracted around its length. "D-I have to get used to it..." Sunghoon snorted softly, his hands grasping your hips forcefully.

'Of course, you must." Then he pulled back slightly, and his tip grazed your entrance, making you shudder.

'Tell me when you want me to move.' His tone was a mixture of control and perversion. He left you a minimum of choice, but his body vibrated with the desire to take you as his instinct screamed at him to do. Your fingers clasped against his arms. "Move..." you gasped. "M-Move more ... please..."

A dark flash ran through his eyes. 'Whatever you want, sweetie.' And he began to move, slowly, at first. Pushing in and out with measured movements, making you feel every inch of its length, each lunge was deep, almost designed to make you lose your head but then, your body took over. "Hoon..." you groaned softly, fingers clinging to his shoulders. "P-Faster..." His ears strained, he stopped suddenly.

'What did you say?' His tone was dangerously amused, and your cheeks burned, but by now it was too late to go back.

"I want you ... faster..." you stammered, your breath broken. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his smile grew sharper and in that instant, his instincts took over. Her body lowered on you, her hands grabbed you with more force, his eyes darkened with pure lust and then she began to fuck you for real, no more slow and controlled movements.

Only fast, deep, animalistic thrusts. The bed creaked under you, the pink sheets now crumpled. His every lunge hit a point inside you that made you scream with pleasure and his ears moved furiously, his tail trembled. He was in the throes of his instincts.

'Ask and it will be given to you, mh?' he gasped with a grin, bending over you to sink his teeth into your neck, marking you with his bite.

'Look how your body is reduced, all tense for my cock.' His hot breath drove you crazy. 'You like it, huh? Do you feel good getting fucked like this by a rabbit?'

You couldn't answer that. You could only moan, huddling around him. Then, suddenly, you felt something change. An overwhelming heat pervaded you, starting from the belly and radiating throughout the body. Your breathing became even more labored, and your body trembled.

"A-Ah ... H-Hoon...!" you stammered, your brain on fire. Sunghoon laughed softly, his gaze predatory.

'Oh? Are you feeling hot?' He knew very well what was happening.

'Finally your body reacts as it should.' You felt his cock throbbing inside you and then, you felt it. The knot began to swell, expanding inside you, preparing to tie you to him, you stammered that it was too much, but also such a beautiful feeling as Hoon continued to fuck you. Your poor vaginal lips sucked him all the time, and you lost so much excitement that he teased you, pulled his ears, your legs squeezed him even more to you, and you kissed him while he put his hand on your stomach.

'Feel how well you take my cock... how my knot is filling you.' His whisper was full of possession, of animalistic desire.

'Sooner or later the knot will break and you will carry beautiful hybrids on your lap.' You nod amid the broken moans, the pleasure too intense to answer with real words.

'H-Hoonie...I'm coming ... ” Sunghoon smiled perversely, lowering one hand to tease your clit with her fingers.

'Come for me. Show me how much you like being mine.' A choked scream escaped from your lips as the pleasure exploded inside you, completely overwhelming you. You made a mess over his length and on the sheets, while Sunghoon bit his lip at feeling you squeeze so hard around him.

'Oh, yeah, I'll fill you up.' With a throaty groan, he knotted completely at you letting his excitement fill you.

He stood motionless for a moment, breathing heavily, savoring every second they were still tied up. When it finally melted inside you retreated slowly.

'Look what a disaster you made.' Then he kissed you sweetly, letting you recover in his arms.

'I really think that from now on we will always study in your room!'

Then, without saying anything, he smoothly moved out of bed and bent down to pick up his shirt. He naturally slipped it on you, carefully covering you, as if wanting to mark the territory on you in that way too.

'Don't move,' he ordered in a tone that did not admit replicas before quickly getting dressed. You followed him with your gaze as he left the room for a few minutes, and when he returned with a damp cloth in his hands, you stared at him with an amused air.

"Look who takes care of me. Are you sure you're the Sunghoon I know?" you provoked him with a smirk. He slightly curled his nose and grunted softly – a deep, almost imperceptible sound typical of his hybrid instinct. He glanced sternly at you as he passed the cloth over your skin gently. 'It's the least a guy should do,' he replied with simplicity as if it were obvious.

After finishing, he slipped back into the bed next to you and, without thinking about it, wrapped you with his body, clutching you possessively against his chest. Its tail barely moved, touching your thigh, while its rabbit ears leaned forward slightly, attentive to your every breath. For a while, he remained silent, carelessly stroking your side. Then you felt his grip tighten slightly.

"What is it?" you asked him quietly, taking his hand between yours. Sunghoon hesitated. You could feel it. It was as if he was struggling with something inside himself. Eventually, his breathing became heavier.

'I'm scared,' he admitted.

You stiffen. "Of what?" He looked down, his ears bent back slightly.

'Of myself.' You watched him carefully, waiting for him to continue.

'With you I checked myself,' he confessed in a low voice.

'But my heat is approaching. I don't know how I'll react when it happens. And I'm afraid to show you everything about me.'

His tail moved nervously behind him, as if unsure how to express how he felt. For a moment, he seemed almost vulnerable. You approached him and, with a sweetness that even he did not expect, you let your lips touch the little ones on his face.

"I want to see every part of you, Sunghoon," you whispered against his skin. "I'm sure you won't hurt me."

He shuddered slightly at your touch, his body tense for a single moment before relaxing again. He looked you in the eye, and something inside him snapped, he wanted you but it was not just desire. It was something deeper. Something he had never experienced before. He ran his tongue over his lips, almost nervously, and then, with a half-smile, tilted his head. 'When we are in public, however, I want you to continue to treat me as usual.'

"Obviously. I can't ruin your image as a cynical, fake bad boy and nerdy boy!" He giggled, shaking his head.

'So you like bad boy and at the same time nerdy boy?' You shook your head, amused.

"You are not a bad boy, You're just a little gruff and authoritarian." Sunghoon sighed, but inside he felt a different warmth than usual. It wasn't just about attraction. He liked you. Really. And this frightened him more than any incoming heat and he knew that in the coming weeks it would come...

taglist: @stwrlightt @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @m3wkledreamy @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio @ancnymcnzjy @sofiafromvenus @kayjiguki @annovaz @kkamismom12 @forrds @inishij @amortenha @jayjw16enxp @sunnysidesins

PT2?

Rebblog and comments are appreciated

#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfic #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon #enhypen hyung line #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours

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okwonyo · 20 hours ago

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✉️ GIVE IT TAKE IT ◞ ◟ them as meet cutes.

❪ 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 ❫ ｡ 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗁. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

(ᴗ_ ᴗ。)⠀ enhyepn ୨୧ fem!rea 14OO fluff established relationship ── pet-names kissing skinship recueil ｡

분지 ܃ writing this was very, very fun ! enjoy 🎀

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HEESEUNG

you love going to basketball matches.

your heartrise is ridiculously high, when the pastime comes. you watch, with heart palpitations due to the game, the kiss cam go around the crowd. the palpitations get worse when the prettiest guy you have lied your eyes on is shown but it takes you a while to realize that he is sitting right next to you.

it takes you a while to understand that he is sitting right next to you. the sight of your friends hand tapping your shoulder makes you notice that you are the one who is supposed to kiss him.

he is even prettier whereupon you turn your head to his direction. so much, that your mouth fall agape at the sight of his pretty smile. “is it okay?” his voice is tender as he asks.

the crowd’s cheers get louder when you nod. he leans in, cup your face in the softest manner, and gives you a lingering peck that leaves your eyes fluttering open.

“my name is heeseung, by the way,” he tells you with his hands still on your cheeks and the taste if your lipstick still on his lips.

JAY

monday is always the rush. the feeling of freedom and being rested on the weekend doesn’t linger much, usually. going back to work is always a huge slap, no matter how short the weekend was.

but you will admit that today, you are having a wonderful day.

you don’t know if it’s because of the sunny look the sky is wearing or if it’s because you woke up with the sound of the birds chirping instead of your usual alarm— today is a great day.

there is still time when you get out of your apartment, therefore you decide to go get a coffee at the cute place in front of your building.

there is surely an angel on your side today, because as soon as you get ready to pay for your coffee and little snack, a man stops you, “can i?”

you turn around to see a tall dark haired man in a white button up, slicked back hair and dizzying cologne. speechless in an understatement in this kind of situation. today is a great day indeed.

JAKE

it happens when you decide to take a walk in the park next to your apartment building. the weather being too nice to not take advantage of it, you go out, on your own.

during that walk, you encounter a few dogs owner with their cute dogs— you pat the few ones who comes your way with a sweet smile before waving at the owner.

but this one is different. because that cream border collie runs to you, full force as if you saw each other before. and you can’t send a confused look at it’s owner because they are not there.

“hi, pretty,” you praise with a laugh as you lower yourself to be on its level. you pat her gently, and it seems to like, “are you lost?”

the dog doesn’t give you a proper answer and decides to try lick you instead. taken aback, you back up a tad with a chuckle coming out of your chest. too busy with the cute border collie, you don’t notice to man running towards the both of you.

he stands in front of you for a moment, and when you look up, your heart skips a beat. “you found her,” he smiles. he gets on one knee to pet his dog, you assume. he eyes are gentle as he looks at you, “thank you.”

SUNGHOON

you catch a glimpse of his beauty once and are unable to get your mind off of him.

he was there the first time you went to the gym, and he has been there everyday since then. for months, you saw him workout in his tank tops from afar, flexing his perfectly sculpted muscles.

you have to bite down your lips and fight the urge to stare at him for too stare at him for too long as you throw your head back— a sigh of despair leaving your mouth.

sometimes, you eyes meet and you hold eye contact for a few seconds. you are always the first to turn your gaze in front of that handsome man. and it gets worse when he offers to be your spotter.

“are you okay?” the man asks from behind you while you get mentally ready to do pull ups and have this angel touch you. a nod is all you give him as an answer.

his hands are huge and soft against your hips. he holds you tenderly, giving you his help for your exercise. he talks, but you don’t quite hear— too busy drowning under the softness of his touch.

SUNOO

you could take it as a lesson to not look at your phone while you are walking. especially in crowded areas like these, with this much people, with this fast rhythm. but you don’t.

perhaps, you were beyond taken aback when your body hit what felt like a walking wall. your body quite much recoiled against whatever you walked into. however, it took you a while to understand that it was someone.

your eyes were shut close due to the shock when strong hands gripped your shoulders and prevented you from falling to the ground. your head hit the person so hard that you feel a bit dizzy.

when your eyes open again, they are unable to look at anything else but the well-sculpted body of that man in front of you. his chest and arms are perfectly hugged by his compression shirt and you understand why your forehead hurts a bit.

“are you alright?” you feel as if you were in a dream when you finally see his face. he looks like an angel sent from above— the kind that guides and protects you. you can’t believe this cute face owns this kind of body. “i’m sorry, i didn’t see you.”

his smile makes him ten times prettier. you smile as well, “i–it’s okay,” there is a sudden shyness and nervousness creeping into your cheeks as you stutter.

JUNGWON

you are waiting for your friends near a crossroad, absentmindedly looking at the cars running on the road, your wired earphones playing a song in your ears.

the gentle breeze brushes over your skin. it tingles you as well as something else you cannot quite wrap your head around. it presses on your skin, burns you to touch your soul in the most pleasing way possible.

you look around, to see if there is anything touching your o r anyone staring at you but the pressure leaves as soon as you does so. you go back to staring at the cars from earlier.

after a moment, the pressure comes back. then, a finger taps your shoulder; hesitant and timid. you turn around as you take off one of your earphones to see the most ethereal man you’ve ever seen.

“sorry to bother you, but i saw you from afar and—” his smile digs his dimples and makes your heart stutter. he presents a rose to you, “i wanted to give you this.”

you open your mouth, unable to say anything. you wrap your fingers around the beautiful flower and chuckle at the cute unknown.

RIKI

sleeping this late is never going to happen again; that’s what you swear to yourself as soon as you open your eyes in the morning. tiredness weigh on your shoulder during the entire day.

it gets worse when you get into class, and impossibly worse when you get into the train to go back home. the thought of the comforting material of your bed makes your eyes close themselves without any warning and soon you are fast asleep.

half asleep, you feel your body fall to the side. you are too tired to stop it however, and you let if fall on the nearest thing to you. it doesn’t seem like a window to you.

it takes you a while to acknowledge that it’s someone’s shoulder. most likely someone who you don’t even know. the said someone staying still for an embarrassing amount of minutes is what leaves you speechless.

when you loo at them, they are already staring. your heart jumps in your chest as you recognize the face of your train crush. “i’m sorry!” you whisper loudly, jolting fully awake, red in the face.

the goodlooking man laughs, “it’s okay, you seemed really tired.”

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luvsicktyun · 2 days ago

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THANK YOUUUUU FOR 1,900!!! ILYYY ALL

COLLIDE l.hs

synopsis ⤑ Hockey boys were nothing but egoistic man boys who threw each other around, chasing a puck for a living. They lacked sustenance, they lived their lives like barbarians and you hated them, and everything they stand for. So being tasked to tutor the worst one of them all? An impossible task. Lee Heeseung was the poster child for a frat boy disaster and you wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Or so you thought. Damnit.

pairings ⤑ hockey player!heeseung x fem!reader word count ⤑ 19k

warnings ⤑ smut, loss of virginity, fingering, angst, a little bit of back and forth, frat boy activities, hockey, drinking, parties, tutoring trope, heeseung is a fuck boy and he’s kind of a dick, the reader is up tight, Ft. Yunjin (le sserafim), Soobin (txt), fictional relationships between real life idols, etc

crossing the line series.

You hated hockey. It was grueling and animalistic. Almost barbaric. It was not a hot sport and watching big hunks of men throwing each other around a big ice box was so not how you imagined your friday night would be going. But here you were, in the middle of the packed crowd of your college’s home hockey stadium. The arena is a frozen tundra of noise and chaos, packed with fans draped in red and white jerseys, faces painted and voices hoarse from shouting.

Yunjin bounces beside you, practically vibrating with excitement as she elbows your side for the tenth time in five minutes. Her eyes are fixed on the ice, where players crash into each other like it’s a battle to the death. She lives for the thrill of it. Loves coming to most of the games, i think her super hot boyfriend Choi Soobin being on the team really catapults her love for the grueling sport. And as her roommate and best friend you allow her to drag you along, sometimes.

“You’re gonna love this, I swear,” she insists, clutching her cup of overpriced soda with both hands. “Just wait until Heeseung scores. He’s, like, magic on skates.” You force a smile, but the sound of bodies slamming into the plexiglass makes your fingers tighten around the edge of your seat. The air smells like popcorn and sweat, and the fans behind you won’t stop shrieking obscenities at the referees. You don’t get it—any of it. The violent crashes, the speed, the way grown men bark and snarl at each other over a puck. Sure, Lee Heeseung was considered a star hockey player, one of the best your school has ever seen, they say. But you were impressed, what was so hard about chasing a puck and shoving each other. The announcer’s voice crackles to life, nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. “Goal scored by number seventeen, Lee Heeseung!”

Yunjin screams, leaping to her feet. The arena erupts, deafening, and you flinch as a pack of players smother Heeseung in a mess of helmets and gloves. They slap his back, crush him into the boards, grinning like wolves. You can barely see his face, but his name glows in bold white letters across the screen overhead, followed by a replay of the goal—a blur of motion and ice spray. It was disgusting, and you hated every second of it. You grimace, sinking lower in your seat. “Do they always act like that?” Yunjin was used to your need to abominate hockey and all it was so your question doesn't really phase her much. Yunjin laughs, eyes bright. “It’s called celebrating.”

“It’s called animalistic,” you mutter, but she doesn’t hear you, too busy cheering with the rest of the lunatics. The game drags on, seconds bleeding into minutes, periods crawling by in a blur of shouts and whistles and obnoxious goal horns. Every time a player crashes into another, you wince. The fights are even worse, gloves dropped and fists flying, the refs standing back like it’s some kind of gladiator match. Your butt is numb from the hard plastic seat, your ears ache, and you’ve never hated anything more. By the time the buzzer finally sounds, you’re half convinced you’ll go deaf before you escape. Yunjin beams at you, cheeks flushed and hair wild from excitement. “See? Wasn’t that amazing?” she gushes, grabbing your arm. “Heeseung was insane! I told you he’s the best.”

You manage a weak smile. “Uh-huh. Amazing.” Your sarcasm goes basically unnoticed by Yunjin, as she’s too busy celebrating the big win. The crowd around you turn to each other cheering loudly. You have to stop yourself from covering your ears with your palms to drown out the sounds. Finally, mercifully, the game is over. You shuffle out of the bleachers with Yunjin at your side, ears still ringing from the blaring horns and the relentless chants. College kids swarm the exits, jerseys half-zipped and voices hoarse, stumbling over each other as they yell about some after-party to celebrate the big win. You scuff to yourself because of course there is a party. A party you won't be going to. Instead you'll go back to the dorm and relax with a good book and a cup of tea. Lord knows you need it after spending hours in this ice box.

The hallway is a crush of bodies and echoes, and you’re too busy trying not to get trampled to notice the way Yunjin keeps sneaking glances at you—eyes wide and hopeful, lower lip caught between her teeth. It was painfully obvious she wanted to ask you something and even more obvious that you wouldn't like her question. You sigh. “Whatever it is, no.” shutting down any ideas she had before she could utter a single word. Her face falls. “But you don’t even—”

“No.” You adjust your bag higher on your shoulder, weaving through a trio of guys who reek of beer and cheap cologne. “I did my time. I sat through three hours of hockey without complaining—much. Can we please just go home?” You craved that night in to yourself. Yunjin grabs your arm, nearly making you stumble. “Okay, but hear me out. There’s a party at the frat house. The whole team’s gonna be there! Come on, it’s not even that far from campus. We can just—”

You cut her off again, rolling your eyes and saying “Absolutely not.” She pouts, eyes big and tragically betrayed. “Please?” begging you. She was begging you. And you couldn't give in. “Nope.”

“I’ll clean the dorm for a month,” she blurts, and you stop dead in the middle of the hallway. A guy with a blue foam finger scowls as he swerves around you, muttering something rude, but you barely notice. She puts up a tough bargain. Yunjin’s watching you like she’s just offered up her firstborn, palms pressed together in a silent plea. “I’m serious,” she says quickly, sensing you might actually be considering it. “Trash, laundry, dishes—everything. I’ll even organize your bookshelf!” Damn. She was good, she knew how to get you. Your eyes narrow. “Two months.” but you couldn't give up that easily. You had to fight at least a little bit.

“One,” she shoots back, biting back a grin. “And I’ll buy you coffee for a week.” You groan, already regretting this. “Fine,” you grumble, and Yunjin squeals, throwing her arms around you so suddenly you almost topple over. “You’re the best!” she cries, squeezing tight. “I promise it’ll be fun, I swear! Maybe you’ll even get to talk to Heeseung!”

You snort. “Not interested,” you laugh, prying her off with an eye roll. But your gaze flicks, unbidden, to the ice behind you—where number seventeen is still skating slow laps, head ducked as he talks to a teammate. His laugh is bright enough to catch even from this distance, mouth curved and eyes crinkling at the edges. You turn away with a scuff, no way you’d involve yourself with a man who plays hockey.

The party is already in full swing by the time you and Yunjin squeeze through the front door of the frat house. Music thrums through the walls, loud enough to feel in your chest, and the living room is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with sweaty college kids and empty red cups. Someone’s yelling something unintelligible from the kitchen, and a girl in a sparkly top rushes past, giggling as her friend tries to pull her back by the arm. It was like a playground. You had to stop yourself from cringy as you and Yunjin continued to push through the crowds of people. Your head spinning with irritation at the pure senselessness in the entire house. It was like no one here had half a brain. Yunjin, of course, lights up like a kid in a candy store. Within seconds, she’s weaving her way through the chaos, dragging you along by the wrist. You stumble after her, dodging spilled drinks and people making out against walls, and wonder for the hundredth time how you let her talk you into this.

Yunjin chats with everyone—absolutely everyone—with a pulse. She flits from one group to another like it’s the easiest thing in the world, tossing compliments and laughter around like confetti. You trail behind her awkwardly, fingers curled around a cup of something you’re too afraid to taste, smiling and nodding when you’re supposed to. Soobin must have not arrived yet so she was filling the gap with randoms until he got here.

You’re not sure how much time passes—long enough for your feet to start aching and for Yunjin to introduce you to at least fifteen people whose names you instantly forget—when she suddenly gasps, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, Jake!” she squeals, abandoning your arm to dart across the room. “Jay! You guys killed it out there!” You blink, half a step behind as you follow her gaze. Sure enough, Jake and Jay—both still in their team jackets, damp hair pushed back—are leaning against the staircase, laughing about something. Jake grins at Yunjin’s enthusiasm, eyes bright, while Jay salutes her with his drink.

“Yunjin!” Jake laughs, opening his arms for a hug. “You actually made it! Didn’t think hockey was your roommate’s scene.” His eyes flick to you, warm and teasing.

“It’s not.” You admit dryly. Jake chuckled, taking a big swig of drink before smirking at you both. “Well still, I bet you enjoyed Heeseung’s killer goal that won us the game. Pretty cool, right?”

“Sure.” Your answers were deadpan and you could tell you were making them both moderately uncomfortable but you didn't care. You’d much rather be literally anywhere else but here.

“Aren’t you having fun?” Jay asks, he was more nonchalant than Jake, less outgoing. He leaned against the sink with a lazy look on his face. It almost looked like he’d rather be anywhere else as well.

“I’m suffering.” Your candor had to have been appreciated because the look Jay sent you was one that screamed ‘i agree’. He definitely wasn’t the party type either. Which was almost unheard of when it came to team captains. Yunjin rolls her eyes fondly, but she’s already turning back to Jake, leaning in to ask about one of the plays from the game. You’re left to awkwardly clutch your drink, glancing around at the sea of strangers and trying to look less like a lost puppy and more like someone who actually belongs here. After a while of watching Yunjin converse with half the party you had to pee. Finding a bathroom in this massive house would be hard. And asking someone was out of the question, you've had enough socializing for one night. You right yourself preparing to walk among the sea of people in the way of the grand staircase. You clutched your drink in your hand weaving through the crush of bodies.

Reaching the staircase was no easy task, people were mushed together like a mosh pit. The hallway is somehow even more crowded, people pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and stumbling over each other in varying levels of drunkenness. You mutter apologies, clutching your drink to your chest and scanning the doors for a bathroom sign. There’s a line, of course, stretching halfway down the hall. You bite back a groan and resign yourself to waiting, tapping your foot impatiently and trying to ignore the obnoxious couple behind you sucking face like they might suffocate if they pull apart. You’re glancing at your phone when it happens. One second, you’re minding your own business—the next, someone slams into your side, and your drink splashes straight down your front, soaking your shirt in sticky warmth.

You freeze, disbelief flaring into white-hot irritation as you look up, ready to rip into whoever’s responsible— only to find Lee Heeseung drunkenly staring back at you with a tight lipped fake apologetic look on his face. It angered you, damn near enraged you. His hair’s mussed, dark eyes hazy and amused, and he’s laughing—actually laughing, low and unbothered—like he didn’t just body-check you into the wall. A girl no taller than you stood beside him hung onto his arm like her life depended on it. Her lipstick slightly smudged and hair ruffled, she looked like a hot mess.

You blink, rage sharpening like broken glass. “Are you—are you serious right now?” you snap, shoving your empty cup against his chest. “What the hell? Watch where you’re going!” Heeseung just glances down at the cup, brows raising slowly. The girl at his side huffs impatiently, tugging at his arm, but he doesn’t move—just smirks, dark eyes drifting over you in a way that makes your blood boil. “You’re kidding,” you scoff. “Is this funny to you?”

He tilts his head, grin widening. “Kinda,” he admits, and your jaw drops at his audacity. Where does he get off thinking he's the king of the world? What just because he won himself a game tonight means he’s the hottest thing around? Fuck that. “Oh, screw you,” you snap, swiping futilely at your soaked shirt. “God, just because you’re some hotshot hockey player doesn’t mean the world revolves around you, you know?”

Heeseung chuckles, a warm, lazy sound that makes you want to punch him right in his stupidly perfect mouth. “Actually,” he drawls, dark eyes glinting, “yeah, it does.” The audacity. Your hands clench, words stuttering uselessly on your tongue, but he’s already turning away—barely even sparing you a second glance as the girl tugs him down the hall, giggling and clinging to his arm. You stare after them, heart hammering with fury, cheeks hot and sticky drink dripping from your clothes. You hate him. You’ve never hated anyone more.

What seemed like forever soaked in sticky gold liquid, the line to the bathroom started dwindling down until you were the last one to reach it. You storm into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you harder than necessary. The mirror reflects the full horror of your situation—your shirt is soaked, sticky, and clinging to your skin in the most uncomfortable way possible. The scent of whatever cheap drink was in your cup lingers in the air, and no matter how many paper towels you use, the mess refuses to come off.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, aggressively scrubbing at the fabric of your clothing. Your mind replays the scene over and over, fueling your irritation. The smug tilt of Heeseung’s grin, the way he had the nerve to laugh in your face, to dismiss you like you were nothing. Yeah, it does. You grit your teeth so hard your jaw aches. Frustration crackles in your veins as you give up on your shirt and push out of the bathroom. The party is still going strong—music blasting, people shouting over one another, the air thick with sweat and spilled alcohol. You need to find Yunjin, tell her you’re leaving, drag her out of here if you have to.

But as you weave through the crowd, she’s nowhere to be found. Your irritation shifts into mild concern as you make your way toward the last place you saw her—near the staircase where she’d been laughing with Jake and Jay. Jay’s still there, leaning against the railing, casually sipping his drink as he chats with someone. You march up to him, crossing your arms. “Where’s Yunjin?”

Jay blinks, glancing over at you. His gaze flicks to your ruined shirt, and his lips twitch like he wants to ask, but wisely, he doesn’t. “Uh, last I saw, she went upstairs with Soobin.”

Your stomach sinks. “What?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, like ten minutes ago. Looked pretty cozy.” You inhale sharply, your irritation skyrocketing to full-blown fury. So Yunjin dragged you to this stupid party, bribed you into coming, abandoned you in a sea of sweaty hockey fans, and now she was upstairs with her boyfriend, completely forgetting you existed? Perfect. Just perfect.

“I’m leaving,” you mutter, spinning on your heel before Jay can respond. You shove your phone out of your pocket, pulling up the Uber app as you push your way through the crowd, biting down the urge to scream. By the time you make it outside, the cold air is a welcome slap to your overheated skin. You stand on the curb, shivering slightly, arms crossed tight over your chest as you wait for your ride. Tonight was supposed to be chill instead, you’re suffering through a hockey game, putting up with Yunjin’s antics, dealing with a party full of people you didn’t know. But somehow, he had to make it worse. Lee Heeseung. You scowl at the thought of him, jaw clenching. If the universe had any mercy, you’d never have to see him again.

Turns out the universe had no mercy at all. Not even an ounce. The next day, you’re still in a sour mood. You spent all night scrubbing your shirt, trying to get rid of the sticky residue and the memory of Lee Heeseung’s stupid smirk. Even after showering twice, you swear you can still smell the drink on your skin. But at least you’re back in your element now—your history class, where you TA. The classroom is empty except for Professor Kim, who looks up as you walk in, giving you a polite smile.

“Ah, good, you’re here,” he says, flipping through some papers on his desk. “I have a favor to ask. I know you tutor in your free time, and we have a student who’s in desperate need of help.”

You nod automatically. “Of course. You know I don’t mind tutoring.”

“That’s great to hear,” he says, looking relieved. “Because this student is failing, and if he doesn’t get his grade up, he’ll be ineligible to play.” You barely register his words, still waiting for a name. Then he glances down at his notes and says it.

“Lee Heeseung.” Your stomach plummets. No. No way. The universe had no mercy. “Wait—what?” You blink at him, hoping you misheard.

Professor Kim sighs. “Heeseung’s been struggling all semester. I gave him a warning last week, but his last exam was a disaster. If he doesn’t pass the next one, he’s off the team.” You open your mouth to protest, to say literally anyone else but him, but before you can get a word out, the door swings open, and in comes the bane of your existence.

Lee Heeseung strolls in like he owns the place, pushing his hair back as he yawns. His hoodie is wrinkled, his backpack is barely slung over one shoulder, and he looks every bit like someone who definitely did not wake up in time for his morning classes. “Sorry, sorry,” he drawls, not sounding sorry at all. “Rough night.”

You scoff before you can stop yourself. “I’m sure it was.” At the sound of your voice, Heeseung’s gaze slides lazily to you, and then—his lips curl. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face, and you immediately hate it.

Wait.” He tilts his head. “You’re my tutor?” He says in a mocking way, he’s making fun of you.

You cross your arms. “Unfortunately.” Heeseung clicks his tongue, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Damn. Lucky me.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes straight into another dimension. “Not so lucky for me,” you mutter. Professor Kim clears his throat. “So, you’ll meet twice a week until the next exam. I’ll leave the schedule up to you both, but I strongly recommend you start immediately.” You glare at Heeseung, who doesn’t seem remotely concerned about the fact that his academic career is hanging by a thread. Instead, he leans against the desk, watching you with amusement.

“Well, tutor,” he says, voice dripping with mock politeness. “When do you want me?” You open your mouth, then shut it. Heeseung’s smirk deepens, clearly enjoying the way you bristle. “Tomorrow at five,” you grit out.

“Perfect.” He pushes off the desk, stretching before making his way toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he glances over his shoulder, that irritating smirk still in place. “Try not to miss me too much until then,” he says, and then he’s gone. You stare after him, absolutely floored by his audacity. “Oh, I’m going to kill him,” you mutter under your breath.

By the time you make it back to your dorm, you’re fuming. Your entire walk across campus had been spent replaying your conversation with Heeseung, each smug smirk and cocky remark igniting your anger all over again. Of all people, why did it have to be him? You shove open the door, throwing your bag to the floor with a little more force than necessary. "Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable," you mutter, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

Yunjin and Soobin are sprawled out on the futon, a half-empty bag of chips between them as some random drama plays on the screen. It’s the first time you’ve seen Yunjin since she abandoned you at the party, and the second she looks up at you, she must sense the storm brewing in your expression. “Uh…” She blinks. “What’s wrong?”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Oh, I don’t know, Yunjin—maybe the fact that you ditched me last night?”

Yunjin’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh my God.” She sits up, looking genuinely guilty. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I just—Soobin showed up, and—”

“Yeah, I know,” you snap, glaring at Soobin, who at least has the decency to look sheepish. “Jay told me you ran off with him ten minutes after we got there. You know, after I suffered through a hockey game for you.” Yunjin groans, dragging her hands down her face. “You’re right. That was a shitty best friend move. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, collapsing onto your desk chair. “Yeah, yeah.” You wave her off, still annoyed but too exhausted to keep the argument going. “That’s not even the worst part.”

She tilts her head. “What do you mean?” You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples. “I have to tutor Lee Heeseung.”

Yunjin’s jaw drops. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “What?” she asks, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah. Apparently, he’s failing history, and if he doesn’t pass his next exam, he’s off the team,” you huff. “Professor Kim roped me into tutoring him before I even knew who it was.”

Yunjin snorts, clearly fighting a laugh. “Oh, that’s hilarious.”

“It’s not!” You glare at her. “You don’t understand—he’s a dick. He’s entitled, arrogant, and walks around like the whole world revolves around him.” Soobin hums, popping a chip into his mouth. “Heeseung’s not that bad.”

You whip your head toward him. “Are you serious?” Who asked him? He shrugs. “I mean, yeah, he can be cocky, but he’s actually pretty chill once you get to know him.”

Yunjin nods in agreement. “Yeah, he’s nice. I’ve talked to him a few times. He’s always been cool.”

Your mouth drops open. “Okay, no. You guys don’t get it. You didn’t see him at the party last night.”

Soobin raises an eyebrow. “What happened?” You launch into a full-blown rant, recounting every infuriating detail. “I was minding my business, just trying to use the bathroom, when he and some random girl bumped into me. I spilled my drink all over myself because they were too busy making out to notice other human beings existed. And when I called him out on it, do you know what he did?” Yunjin and Soobin both stare, waiting.

“He laughed. He laughed in my face and said, ‘Yes, it does,’ when I told him the world doesn’t revolve around him!” You threw your hands in the air in exasperation. Yunjin lets out a low whistle. “Oof.”

“Right?” You throw your hands up. “And now I have to spend actual time with him, tutoring him like he’s some helpless little idiot who can’t read a history book!” Soobin chuckles, shaking his head. “Sounds like he got under your skin.”

You scoff. “No. He’s just the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.” Yunjin exchanges a look with Soobin before turning back to you with an all-too-knowing smirk. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” she singsongs. “I just think this tutoring thing is gonna be very interesting.”

The next day, you show up at the library exactly at five. You even get there a few minutes early because, unlike some people, you actually value punctuality. You find a table in the back, away from the louder study groups, and start setting up—pulling out your notes, opening your laptop, lining up your highlighters like the responsible student you are. Then, you sit back and wait for Lee Heeseung to show up.

And wait.

You check the time. 5:15. You exhale sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to stay calm. Maybe he’s just running late. Maybe he got held up. Maybe— 5:30. Okay, seriously? You shoot him a quick text, nothing too aggressive. Just a simple: “Hey, you coming?” Nothing. Not a single response.

5:45. Your patience is wearing paper-thin. You stare at your phone screen, resisting the urge to type out something way more aggressive. Maybe something like: “If you were planning on wasting my time, you could have at least had the decency to tell me instead of making me sit here like an idiot.” Or better yet: “Fuck you.”

By now, you’re fuming. Your fingers drum aggressively against the table as you glare at the empty seat across from you, debating whether you should just leave. Clearly, he has no intention of showing up. 6:30. That’s it. You’re done. You shove your notebook into your bag, ready to storm out and text Professor Kim that you refuse to tutor an insufferable jackass, when— a voice behind you mutters a simple “Hey.”

You slowly turn around, already brimming with rage, and there he is—Lee Heeseung, strolling in like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. He drops into the seat across from you, stretching his arms behind his head with the kind of casual arrogance that makes you want to throw something at him. "Sorry I’m late," he says. Not actually sounding sorry at all.

You slam your laptop shut with way too much force. "You’re an hour and a half late."

Heeseung just shrugs. "Yeah, my bad. I had practice. Then I had to change. And, y’know, eat. Then I ran into some people…" Your eye twitches at his nonchalant attitude “And at no point did it occur to you to let me know?”

Heeseung raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t understand why you’re so worked up. "Didn’t think it was that big of a deal." You inhale so sharply your lungs burn. "Not that big of a—" You cut yourself off, pressing your hands against the table to ground yourself because if you don’t, you might actually throw your water bottle at his stupid, smug face.

Heeseung just watches you with lazy amusement, clearly not taking this seriously. “Don’t be so uptight,” he says, flipping open his empty notebook like he actually plans on doing anything. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Oh. oh something inside of you snaps. You can’t help the next words that leave your mouth and to be quite honest you don’t know if you care much anyway. “Oh, fuck off Heeseung.”

Heeseung pauses, blinks, then smirks. “What?”

"You heard me." You stand up, grabbing your bag. "I don’t have time for your arrogant, self-important bullshit. If you actually cared about passing this class, you’d take it seriously instead of acting like you’re doing me a favor by showing up." His smirk doesn’t even falter. If anything, it deepens. “Damn,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t know you were this feisty.”

You glare. “And I didn’t know you were this much of a dick. But here we are.”

Heeseung chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re kinda cute when you’re mad.” oh. That’s it. You’re officially done.

You shove your notebook into your bag so aggressively you nearly rip the zipper, and without another word, you storm out of the library. You can hear him laughing behind you. Actually Laughing. And you swear—you swear—you’ve never wanted to strangle someone more in your entire life.

The next day, you’re back at the library, sitting across from Kim Sunoo, a bright-eyed freshman who actually wants to learn. Unlike some people. You tap your highlighter against the open textbook, explaining a key point about the causes of the Industrial Revolution. Sunoo nods eagerly, his face lighting up in understanding. “Ohhh, that makes so much sense now! I swear, I was staring at this for hours last night and none of it clicked.”

You smile despite yourself. “It’s easier when someone explains it out loud, huh?”

Sunoo grins. “Way easier. You’re really good at this, noona.”

You chuckle. “It’s literally just history.”

“Yeah, but you make it less boring,” he says, scribbling notes as fast as he can. “I actually feel like I might pass this exam now.” Before you can respond, a shadow falls over your table. And suddenly, the lightheartedness of the moment is gone. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. The air shifts, tension creeping in like a slow-moving storm.

Sunoo notices before you do. His eyes flick upward, widening slightly. “Uh—”

“Hey”

You sigh. The last thing you need right now is him. Slowly, you look up. Lee Heeseung stands there, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, looking at you with something that is not his usual cocky amusement. His posture is relaxed, but there’s an awkwardness to it—like he’s not used to whatever he’s about to do.

You cross your arms over your chest. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk.” His gaze flickers to Sunoo. “Alone.” Sunoo, to his credit, looks between the two of you and seems to decide that this is not his business. He hurriedly starts shoving his books into his bag. “Oh! Yeah, of course, I—” You shoot Heeseung an annoyed look. “We’re in the middle of something.”

Sunoo waves a hand. “No, no, it’s fine! I was about to go anyway.” He flashes you a grateful smile. “Thanks for the help! I’ll see you next week?” You nod, still frowning as you watch him scurry off like he just escaped something dangerous. Which, honestly? Fair. Then, you turn back to Heeseung. You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, waiting. “Well?”

Heeseung exhales, looking almost uncomfortable. He shifts his weight, raking a hand through his hair before finally meeting your eyes. "Look… about last night…"

Your eyebrows lift. “You mean the hour and a half I spent waiting for you? Or the part where you acted like a complete asshole?” He winces, lowering his eyes to the floor. “Yeah. That.” You don’t say anything. You let the silence stretch between you, let him sit in it. And for the first time since meeting him, Heeseung actually looks nervous.

He exhales sharply, dropping into the seat across from you. “I was a dick,” he admits. “I know that. And I’m sorry.” You blink. Lee Heeseung, apologizing? Willingly? You half expect the ceiling to cave in. You narrow your eyes, skeptical. “Are you actually?”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I am.” He leans forward slightly, his voice lower now. Sincere even. “Look, I need this. I need to pass. If I don’t, I can’t play.” Something flickers across his face when he says it—something restrained. You get the feeling he’s hating admitting this to you, like asking for help isn’t something he’s ever had to do before. You study him, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tap against the table like he’s restless. For once, there’s no arrogance in his expression. No teasing smirk. Just… Lee Heeseung, stripped of his usual bullshit.

You hate that it actually works. That a small part of you softens. But still, you’re not letting him off that easy. “I’ll be on time,” he says, his voice firmer now. “I’ll take it seriously. Just… give me another chance.”

You tilt your head, considering. “And if you don’t?” He exhales through his nose. “Then you can tell Professor Kim to find me another tutor. You’ll never have to deal with me again.” You hesitate, watching him. You want to say no. Want to tell him to find someone else, that you don’t owe him anything. But at the same time… you do love tutoring. And despite everything, you’d hate to see someone fail because of their own stupid pride. Even if that someone is Lee Heeseung.

So, against your better judgment, you sigh. “Fine,” you say, and immediately he brightens. But you hold up a finger. “But if you pull that shit again, I’m done. No second chances.”

He nods immediately. “Got it.”

You squint. “I mean it, Heeseung. One more time, and I’m out.”

“I know, I know,” he says, lips curling up into something that almost looks like a real smile. “I won’t be late.” You purse your lips, still doubtful. “We’ll see.” Heeseung stands up, stretching. “Five sharp, yeah?”

“Five sharp.”

A slow smirk spreads across his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes and start gathering your things. “See, this is exactly what I mean.”

He chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No teasing. I’ll be good.” Somehow, you highly doubt that. As he walks away, hands stuffed in his pockets, you watch him go, feeling a mixture of irritation and reluctant curiosity. Because for all his bullshit, for all his cocky, self-important assholery… A small, tiny part of you is curious to see if he’ll actually change. And you hate that. So much.

That night, you and Yunjin fall into your usual routine—Chinese takeout, pajama shorts, and an unnecessary rewatch of Grey’s Anatomy. The apartment is warm, dimly lit by the soft glow of your laptop screen. The air smells like sweet and sour chicken, and your chopsticks lazily poke at your carton of lo mein as Yunjin lies sprawled across the couch beside you. “I still can’t believe you’re actually tutoring Heeseung,” she says around a mouthful of fried rice.

You groan, letting your head fall back against the couch. “Don’t remind me.”

“You hate him.” Yunjin continues.

“Exactly! Which is why this is actual hell for me.” You huff, setting your carton down on the coffee table. “He’s such a dick. He thinks the world revolves around him just because he’s good at hockey.”

Yunjin hums, twirling a noodle around her chopstick. “Soobin says he’s not actually that bad.” You scoff. “Oh, of course Soobin would say that. Heeseung’s his teammate.”

Yunjin shrugs. “Yeah, but like… he really meant it. Heeseung’s just—” She pauses, pursing her lips like she’s debating whether or not to say something. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

Yunjin sighs, setting her food down. “Soobin told me something about him. A story, actually.” You blink. “About Heeseung?”

She nods, sitting up a little. “Do you wanna hear it?” You hesitate, rolling your eyes. “Do I need to?”

Yunjin grins. “Oh, absolutely.”

You groan, but you can’t deny that you’re a little curious. You grab your drink, leaning back against the couch. “Fine. Spill.”

Yunjin sits up even more, tucking her legs beneath her. “Soobin told me that back in high school, Heeseung wasn’t—like—this.” She gestures vaguely. “He wasn’t popular. Or cocky. Or even a star player.”

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “What do you mean? He’s insanely good.”

“I know,” she says, eyes widening. “But apparently, his coach barely let him play. He wasn’t one of the ‘favorites,’ you know? So he rode the bench most of the time.” That… does surprise you. The Lee Heeseung you know is the player everyone talks about, the guy who steals the spotlight like it was made for him. The idea of him sitting on the sidelines, ignored, is hard to imagine.

“One day,” Yunjin continues, “one of the team’s star players got hurt before a big game. They had to put Heeseung in, and—” she snaps her fingers “—just like that, he destroyed everyone.” You blink. Surprised, this was not what you were expecting at all.

“He played so well that the entire crowd went nuts. Coaches were watching. He basically stole the game, and after that? He got a full-ride scholarship. Just like that.” Your brows knit together, trying to picture it. “But after that game,” Yunjin says, tilting her head, “he changed. Like, overnight.”

You frown. “What do you mean?” She exhales, leaning against the couch. “I mean he stopped being the quiet kid. He got stronger, started training harder. And when he got to college? Boom. Whole new personality. He’s loud, cocky, untouchable.” You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, that part tracks.”

Yunjin gives you a look. “But don’t you get it? He had to change. He was treated like nothing for years, and the second he proved himself, he made sure no one would ever look down on him again.” You chew on your lip, staring at the flickering light of the laptop screen. You don’t know what to do with that information. Because it’s easier to hate Heeseung when he’s just an arrogant, self-absorbed jock. When he’s just some guy who gets on your nerves. But now there’s a reason behind it. And you hate that it makes you see him differently.

The next day, when you step into the library, you expect to wait. You expect to sit down, go through your notes, tap your fingers against the table while checking the time, wondering how long you should stay before giving up. But Heeseung is already there And it throws you off.

He’s slouched in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, head tilted down as he stares at his phone. His brows are furrowed, lips pressed together, his thumb hovering over the screen but never quite moving. It’s an expression you’re not used to seeing on him. Tense. Quiet. Serious. It doesn’t suit him.

You shake it off, forcing yourself to walk over. You pull out your chair with a sharp scrape against the floor and drop your books onto the table. Loudly. Nothing. You fight the urge to roll your eyes and sit down. “Alright, we’re starting with Henry the Eighth today.”

No reaction. You tilt your head. “You know, the king who had six wives? England’s most dramatic ruler?” Still, nothing. Your patience thins. “What’s more important than not failing?” At that, he finally looks up, but instead of the usual lazy amusement or mild irritation, his expression is sharp.

“Mind your own business,” he snaps. It hits you like a slap. Of all the things you expected, that wasn’t one of them.

You straighten, gripping the edge of the table, surprised by the coldness in his voice. Heeseung has been many things since you met him—cocky, arrogant, insufferable—but he’s never been cruel. You inhale sharply, already pushing back your chair. “Okay. If you don’t wanna be here, I’m not wasting my time—”

“Wait.” The word is rushed, almost desperate, and before you can leave, Heeseung finally puts his phone down. He drags a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly through his nose. “It’s just my dad,” he mutters, like that should be enough of an explanation. You hesitate, watching the way his jaw ticks, the way his fingers tap restlessly against the table.

“What about him?” you ask, voice softer than before. Heeseung doesn’t look at you. “He was just asking how the season’s going. That’s it.” You study him for a moment, something itching at the back of your mind. This is the first time Heeseung has ever looked like this. Quiet. Withdrawn. Like his thoughts are somewhere else entirely. And last night, you learned something about him—something you never would’ve guessed on your own.

You shift in your seat, glancing at your open notebook before closing it. “You know…” You trail off, choosing your words carefully. “I heard a story about you.” Heeseung blinks, his gaze flicking to yours. “What?”

“I heard that back in high school, you weren’t allowed to play much,” you say. “And that when you finally got your shot, you proved everyone wrong.” His entire body stiffens. For a second, you think he’s going to let you keep talking, but then his expression hardens. His lips press together, his fingers stop tapping, and suddenly, the coldness is back.

“Don’t,” he says flatly. You frown. “I just—”

He cuts you off with his stern voice. A terrify you didn't want to wander “I said don’t.” It’s sharp, cutting, final. The look in his eyes makes it clear that whatever conversation you were hoping to have? It’s not happening. Your stomach twists, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, unsure if you should apologize or pretend like you never said anything at all. For a moment, the silence is heavy. Unbearable.

Then Heeseung sighs, running a hand over his face. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “Just… drop it.” You swallow hard, nodding slowly. “Right,” you murmur, flipping open your book again. “Henry the Eighth.” For a second, you think he won’t even pretend to pay attention. But then he leans forward, picking up a pencil and tapping it against the table. And this time, when you start talking, he actually listens.

Over the next few weeks you and Heesseung began to find some kind of rhythm that worked for the both of you. And after no time Heeseung was back to usual self. Being extremely and unavoidably annoying. But it was clear to you that all your tutoring sessions were starting to pay off, he was actually learning the material and he..seemed to like it.

The moment stretches—just a second too long. Your hand lingers against his, warmth seeping through the space between your fingers. It’s stupid. It’s just a high-five. Something you’ve done a thousand times with other people. But when you pull away, you can still feel the ghost of his touch, like it left an imprint. Heeseung’s smirk flickers, something unreadable flashing across his face. But then, just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by his usual cocky grin.

“See? I told you I was a genius,” he says, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to focus. “That was one right answer out of ten, relax.”

“An improvement, though.” He points at you like he’s proving a point. “You should be proud. I might actually be learning something.” You scoff, gathering your notes, but your stomach twists in a way you don’t quite understand. Something is different.And you’re not sure what to do about it. One Part of you is scared, another part is excited. And that fear continues to grow the more time you spend with Heeseung.

The study room is too small. Or maybe it just feels that way because Heeseung takes up too much space—not physically, but in the way he leans back in his chair like he owns the place, the way his presence seems to stretch and fill every available inch. The air is thick with the scent of his cologne—something clean, sharp, a little woodsy—and you hate that you notice it.

It doesn’t help that you’re sitting way too close. Your knees bump under the table every time one of you shifts. His arm brushes yours when he reaches for his pencil. The tiny room makes every movement magnified, every accidental touch unavoidable.

You try to focus. You clear your throat and point to your notes. “Okay, so if you actually want to pass this test, you need to remember the causes of the French Revolution.” Heeseung hums, leaning forward. “Right. The people were pissed.” You deadpan. “And why were they pissed?”

“Uh…” He chews the end of his pencil, eyes flicking to the page in front of you. “Something about taxes?” You exhale. “Something about taxes,” you echo, circling the words in your notes. “Yes. Specifically, the Third Estate—” Before you can finish, Heeseung shifts, leaning over your shoulder to get a better look at your writing. And that’s when it happens. His arm presses against yours. His face is too close. And suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of everything—the warmth of his skin, the scent of his cologne, the way his breath fans lightly over your shoulder.

You force yourself to stay still, to not react. “You have really messy handwriting,” Heeseung murmurs, completely oblivious to the absolute chaos in your brain. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that his voice is lower, softer in the quiet of the study room. “Maybe if you actually wrote your own notes, you wouldn’t have to suffer through mine.”

“I like yours better,” he says, smirking. You scuff, shoving your notebook toward him. “Then read them yourself, genius.”

He laughs, finally leaning back, and you exhale—only now realizing you were holding your breath. It was nothing. Just an accidental touch. And yet your heart is pounding out of your chest. You shake it off, clearing your throat. “Okay. Back to the revolution.” Heeseung smirks like he knows something you don’t. But he doesn’t say a word. And somehow that’s worse.

The party is loud—too loud, too chaotic, too much. You don't even know whose house this is. The bass is thumping through the floor, the air is thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and way too much cologne. Yunjin, as always, is in her element, talking to literally anyone with a pulse, dragging you around as she bounces between groups of people. You don’t even know why she drags you along to these things if she’s not even going to stay with you.

You're scouting your surroundings when you see him. Lee Heeseung. But he’s not like he usually is, No cocky smirk, no playful teasing, no girls clinging to his arm. He looks… different. Closed off even. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, a red Solo cup dangling from his fingers, but his eyes are unfocused, staring off at nothing. The usual arrogance in his posture is missing. He just looks… tired.

You hesitate. Normally, you’d avoid him. You’re not sure why you don’t this time. Maybe it’s because he’s alone, or maybe it’s because this version of him—the one that isn’t performing, isn’t playing up his reputation—intrigues you. So you walk over, crossing your arms. “No girl hanging off you tonight?” Heeseung barely reacts at first. He blinks, like he’s just noticing you, then shrugs. “Not in the mood.”

That’s not the response you expect. Usually, he’d fire back with something smug, something flirty, something to get a rise out of you. Instead, his voice is flat. You glance at him, studying his expression. His usual lightheartedness is gone, replaced with something heavier, something clouded. His fingers tighten around the cup, his jaw shifts slightly, and he isn’t looking at you. Something’s on his mind. And for some reason, you care.

“…You wanna get out of here?” The words slip out before you can stop them. Heeseung finally looks at you. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—surprise, curiosity, maybe even relief. And for a second, you think he’s going to brush you off, flash you that smirk and tell you not to flatter yourself. But instead, he nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Outside, the night air is cold, but it feels… lighter. You walk side by side down the street, neither of you saying anything at first. The party fades behind you, the music growing distant, replaced by the quiet hum of the night. It’s weird. You’ve never been alone with Heeseung outside of the library. You’re used to him in controlled environments—study sessions, parties where he’s surrounded by people, the ice where he’s the star. Not like this. Not just… walking.

“You okay?” you ask eventually. Heeseung huffs a laugh, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Didn’t think you cared.” You roll your eyes. “I don’t.”

He smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Liar.” You bump your shoulder against his without thinking. “Seriously, though. You’re acting different.” Heeseung exhales, looking up at the sky. For a second, you think he won’t answer. But then—

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Just hockey stuff.”

You frown. “You’re always dealing with hockey stuff.”

“Yeah, well.” He pauses. “It’s my whole life.”

You glance at him, watching the way his features harden, his usual carefree exterior cracking just enough for you to see through. And you remember what Yunjin told you—that he wasn’t always the hotshot, that he had to claw his way to the top. You don’t push him. Instead, you say, “Wanna grab food?” He blinks. “At this hour?”

“Diner down the street’s open late,” you say. “And you look like you could use pancakes.” Heeseung huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. But then he looks at you—really looks at you. And something shifts. “…Yeah,” he says, nudging you with his elbow. “Let’s get pancakes.” And just like that, the night takes on a different shape.

The diner is the kind of place that always smells like coffee and syrup, no matter what time of day it is. The booths are cracked with age, the neon sign outside flickers every few seconds, and there’s a quiet hum of old music playing through the speakers. It’s not fancy. But it’s warm, and right now, it’s exactly what you need. Heeseung slides into the booth across from you, stretching out his legs so they nearly brush against yours. You don’t know if he does it on purpose or if he just takes up that much space. You ignore it.

A waitress comes by, barely looking at either of you as she takes your order—pancakes, coffee, extra whipped cream. Heeseung raises an eyebrow at you, amused. “What?” you challenge. “I told you. Pancakes fix everything.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. But there’s something softer about him now. Not in the way he usually teases you—this feels different. And then the moment settles into a more calm setting. You lean forward, resting your arms on the table. “So,” you say, tilting your head. “Wanna talk about it?”

You expect him to dodge the question, maybe throw out some sarcastic remark to avoid actually telling you what’s going on. But for the second time that night, Lee Heeseung surprises you. He exhales, running a hand through his hair, making it even messier than before. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. “My dad found out about my grades.” Your stomach twists. You already have a bad feeling about where this is going.

Heeseung lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “He says if I’m gonna throw my entire hockey career away for some stupid class, then I don’t deserve his financial support anymore.” He pauses, staring down at the table. “Says I should ‘get my priorities straight.’” Your heart clenches. You should’ve expected something like this. It’s not uncommon—parents putting pressure on their kids, pushing them toward success, expecting perfection. But something about the way Heeseung says it, the way his voice drops just a little at the end… You know that feeling.

“I just—” Heeseung exhales harshly, gripping his fork a little too tight. “I never feel like I’m enough for them, you know?”

You don’t even think. You just say it. “I do.”

Heeseung blinks, lifting his gaze to meet yours. You swallow hard, suddenly feeling vulnerable, but you push through. “My mom and I don’t talk anymore,” you admit. “She didn’t approve of me getting a history degree. She wanted me to go into the family business with them.” You let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “When I didn’t, she basically—shunned me. Acted like I was a disappointment. Like I wasn’t worth her time anymore.” Heeseung stares at you, expression unreadable. You feel like you should keep talking, should fill the silence, but then Heeseung leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table. His gaze softens.

“That’s fucked up,” he says, voice quieter now.

You shrug, picking at the edge of your napkin. “Yeah, well. It is what it is.” There’s a pause. Then— “I don’t think it is,” Heeseung mutters. You look at him, and for the first time since you met him, you realize that Lee Heeseung isn’t just some cocky, aggravating hockey star. He’s a person. A person with his own struggles, his own fears, his own wounds. The realization shifts something inside you. The waitress comes by, sliding plates of pancakes in front of you, breaking the moment. Heeseung blinks, like he’s shaking himself out of whatever just passed between you, and you do the same.

You don’t kiss. You don’t hold hands. You don’t even bring the topic up again, but the both of you feel it. Something was different.

You glance at the time on your phone and exhale sharply, tapping your fingers against the table. Heeseung is late. Again. It’s been twenty minutes, and you’ve already convinced yourself that if he’s not here in five more, you’re leaving. To say you were disappointed would be an understatement, you were more sad than anything. You had thought that the two of you had made some much progress. You’re mid-internal rant about how utterly irresponsible he is when you hear the sound of hurried footsteps.

“I know, I know,” Heeseung says before you can even open your mouth. He holds up both hands in mock surrender, slightly out of breath. “Before you rip my head off, I brought you something.” You narrow your eyes as he slides a coffee cup and a neatly wrapped pastry across the table.

You hesitate, suspicious. “What is this?”

“A peace offering,” Heeseung says with a grin. “Your favorite, by the way. Thought it might keep you from murdering me in cold blood.” Your lips part slightly, surprised. “How do you even know my order?”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “You get it every time we go to the campus café. Not that hard to remember.” You press your lips together, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach does a weird little flip at that. Instead, you roll your eyes and mutter, “Still an asshole,” before taking the cup.

Heeseung chuckles, sliding into the seat across from you. “Yeah, yeah. But at least I’m a thoughtful asshole.” You’re about to start the tutoring session when a static-filled announcement echoes through the library speakers. “Attention, students: The library will be closing early tonight due to a scheduled event. Please begin packing up your belongings.”

You blink, glancing at Heeseung, who’s already stuffing his books back into his bag. He shrugs. “Guess we’re taking this somewhere else.”

“Wait!” You call out. “Where are we going?” You ask him, beginning to pack up your own things.

“Just come with me.” He says simply with a shrug of his shoulders. You huff but follow after him like he said, through the crowd of people also leaving the library.

You’re not sure how it happens, but twenty minutes later, you’re sitting across from Heeseung in a quiet corner of a late-night café, your books barely touched. At first, you try to focus on history. You really do. But for once, Heeseung isn’t the one slacking off—you are. The conversation drifts. It’s not about Henry VIII or the French Revolution anymore. It’s about movies.

“What do you mean you’ve never seen Interstellar?” Heeseung looks genuinely offended. You roll your eyes. “Sorry, I just never got around to it.”

He lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Unbelievable. You call yourself educated?” You nudge his foot under the table. “Pretty sure history knowledge is more important than knowing a random space movie.”

“First of all,” he says, holding up a finger, “it’s not just a ‘random space movie.’ It’s a cinematic masterpiece.”

You snort. “Didn’t take you for the type to get passionate over movies.” Heeseung sends you a smirk, one that you had to admit made you feel mushy inside. What was happening to you? “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” And for some reason, you find yourself wanting to change that. Then the conversation shifts again. This time, it’s about childhood.

You tell him about how you used to sneak into your grandfather’s study to read history books that were way too advanced for you, even though you were explicitly told not to. Heeseung tells you about how he used to skate on a frozen pond near his childhood home, even when it wasn’t completely frozen over. “Nearly drowned once,” he admits with a laugh. “Didn’t stop me from going back the next week.”

You shake your head. “That explains so much about you.” The conversation flows too easily. The barriers that were once so firm between you are now… blurred. It scares yet excites you at the same time. At some point, you notice Heeseung looking at you for a little too long. His eyes flicker over your face, his smirk settling into something softer. Something unreadable. It has your heart pounding and your palms sweaty. You felt like one of those rom com heroines that were head over heels in love with the witty Jock. What were you doing? Lee Heeseung was so not your type. Hockey players were so not your type.

“You know,” he muses, tilting his head, “this kinda feels like a date.” Your breath catches in your throat.

You scoff, trying to ignore the sudden warmth in your face. “In what world?”

Heeseung grins, leaning forward slightly. “Come on. Late-night café, deep conversation, stolen glances.” He raises a brow. “You sure you don’t feel it?” Your heart stumbles. You don’t know what to say. So you shift the topic into something more casual but still you don’t miss the knowing smirk on Heeseung’s face, like he knew the effect he had on you and he liked it. And a part of you liked it too..

The next day, you and Heeseung are back at the library, tucked into your usual corner. The energy between you is… normal. The way it always is. You tell yourself that last night at the café meant nothing. That Heeseung’s words—this kinda feels like a date—were just him messing with you, the way he always does. So you push it away, bury yourself in your notes, and act like everything is the same.

And for the most part, it is. Heeseung slouches in his chair, tapping his pencil against the table in boredom while you attempt to drill historical facts into his thick skull. He groans dramatically when you ask him a question. He teases you when you sigh in exasperation. Everything is normal. Until—

“What’s this?” Heeseung suddenly reaches into your bag and pulls out a slightly worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. You blink. “Uh, my book?”

Heeseung raises a brow. “You’re one of those people?”

You cross your arms. “What does that mean? A person who reads?”

He grins, flipping through the pages. “Y’know. The ones who are obsessed with Mr. Darcy.”

You roll your eyes. “I like the book because it’s well-written. Not because I’m obsessed with some brooding 19th-century man.” Heeseung hums, still turning the pages. “Mm. I liked it, too.”

You stare at him. “What?” No way a guy like Lee Heeseung read and liked Pride and prejudice.

He looks up, amused. “What?”

“You read it?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah. Had to for a class in high school.”

You’re genuinely shocked. You don’t know why—Heeseung surprises you more often than you’d like to admit. But for some reason, the image of him reading Pride and Prejudice is not one you ever expected. “What did you think?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He leans back in his chair, tapping the book against his thigh. “I liked the way Mr. Darcy felt about Elizabeth. That whole ‘I tried not to love you, but I did anyway’ thing? Kinda hits, y’know?”

Your breath catches. Because the way he says it..It’s not teasing, it’s not sarcastic, it's not a joke. The air shifts between you and for a minute you just stare at each other, saying nothing but so many things all at once. Something pulses in the space between you—something unfamiliar, something dangerous, something you don’t quite know how to name. Then, before you can react— Heeseung laughs, then he leans forward and kisses you.

It’s quick. Just a press of his lips against yours. Light, fleeting. Like it’s nothing. Like it’s a joke. Something so trivial you do with the everyday person, something with no meaning. And it takes you a second to process what just happened before the reality of it slams into you like a freight train. You shove him back. Hard. “What the hell, Heeseung?” Your voice shakes with anger.

He just grins, laughing. “Relax. I just wanted to see you flustered.” Your stomach sinks. To him it was a joke, kissing me was a joke to see me– Flustered? That was funny to him? You don’t even realize your hands are shaking until you grab your things and shove them into your bag. Your chest feels tight. Your vision blurs. Because it wasn't a joke to you. You didn't enjoy being the punchline to someone's entertainment. “Hey, where are you—” But you don’t let him finish. You walk out.

You make it all the way out of the library before the first tear falls. You hate yourself for it. Hate that you’re crying. Hate that you’re letting Heeseung get to you. But you can't help it. That was your first kiss. And he stole it from you. It wasn't special, it wasn't meaningful if anything it was the opposite. It was just a joke. A way for Heeseung to entertain himself. You wipe your face harshly, forcing yourself to breathe. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it’s not a big deal. That it’s fine. But it’s not.

You’re halfway across campus when you hear footsteps behind you. “Wait—wait,” Heeseung calls. You don’t stop. If anything you walk quicker trying your hardest to get away from him. “Hey—seriously—” He jogs up beside you, still laughing. Like it’s funny. Like it’s just another thing for him to tease you about. And that’s when you’ve had enough. That’s when you break.

You whirl around, eyes blazing. “You think this is funny?” Heeseung falters, caught off guard by the sharpness in your voice. You scoff, shaking your head. “You don’t get it.”

Heeseung frowns, finally realizing that you’re actually mad. “I mean, come on. It was just a kiss—”

“No, it wasn’t!” The words come out louder than you intend. Heeseung blinks. Your throat tightens. You stare at the ground, voice quieter now. “That was…my first kiss.” The words feel like ash on your tongue, burning your inside out. Embarrassment flooding your senses.

And silence followed, dead silence. Heeseung said nothing at your confession. When you finally look up, Heeseung’s expression has completely changed. He doesn’t look smug anymore. He doesn’t look amused. He looks like he just got punched in the stomach. “Shit,” he breathes.

You shake your head, swallowing hard. “Forget it.” You turn to leave again, but this time, he grabs your wrist. Stopping you from moving away from him. You want to rip your wrist from his hands, it feels like fire on your skin. You just wanted to get away from him even for just a few minutes to collect yourself, so you could calm down.

Heeseung, although unintentionally, took something from you. And for some people your first kiss would mean nothing but not to you. You had been waiting for the right time, a first kiss, in your mind, was supposed to be romantic. It was supposed to mean something. Even if you didn't end up with that person in the end. Even if you had the messiest break up it didn't matter because in that moment they were the right person and the feeling was there.

It was the reason you read romance novels like pride and prejudice. You were a foolish, foolish hopeless romantic and you didn't care. You embraced it but now stuck in front of someone like Lee Heeseung who kissed girls like he changed his clothes you were embarrassed. Because it meant nothing to him, it was a joke to see you red, to see you stutter. You couldn't help but be angry about that and you weren't going to let him downplay it. You had more dignity than that.

“I—” He hesitates, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t know.”

You laugh bitterly. “Yeah. No shit.” because of course he didn't. Because in his world silly little romantic gestures and the innocence of waiting for the right time to have your first kiss didn’t exist. Kissing was something you just did for him.

Heeseung runs a hand over his face, looking genuinely guilty. His usual cockiness is gone, replaced by something that almost looks like… regret. “I—fuck. I’m an asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head.

You sniff, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah. You are.”

He looks at you, jaw tight. “I wouldn’t have done that if I knew.” And you believe him. You can see it in the way his lips are pressed into a thin line, the way his jaw clenches like he’s punishing himself for something he can’t take back. A long silence stretches between you. Were you really about to forgive him?

Then, you exhale, your voice small. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that.”

Heeseung swallows hard. “I know.” Your throat tightens as you look away, the ache in your chest still present but no longer suffocating. “It was stupid, and it—it wasn’t supposed to be a joke.”

“I know,” he repeats. And this time, his voice is laced with something heavier. Something genuine. You hate that you can’t hate him for it. You chew on your lip, staring at the ground. A part of you wants to stay mad. Wants to tell him to leave you alone, to let you hold on to your anger because that would be easier. But another part of you—one you’re not sure you like—wants to believe him.

Because Heeseung might be an arrogant hockey player with a flirty smirk and a ridiculous ego, but… he isn’t cruel. You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “I can’t believe my first kiss was with you.”

Heeseung huffs out a laugh, though there’s no amusement in it. “Yeah. And I can’t believe I ruined it for you.” You look up at him then, surprised by the way his gaze is so… serious. He was being sincere. “I’m really sorry,” he says quietly. “I was just being an idiot. I didn’t think—I didn’t know—” He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I swear, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

You stare at him for a long moment, searching his face for any trace of insincerity. But there’s nothing. You could tell with utmost certainty that he was sorry, that he regretted it. And against all odds, you sigh, your shoulders dropping just a little. “I forgive you,” you murmur.

Heeseung blinks. “You do?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

A slow, relieved smile tugs at his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You shake your head, still feeling a little raw, but… better. Heeseung watches you carefully. Then, after a beat, he hesitates before saying, “You know… if you wanted, I could—” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost shy. “I mean, I could give you a proper first kiss.” You freeze, your heart stuttering in your chest.

Heeseung seems to immediately regret saying it, his eyes widening. “Only if you wanted—and not now! I mean—just, like, someday. If you ever wanted to, uh—” You stare at him. Then, despite everything, a laugh bubbles up in your throat. Heeseung let out a groan, running a hand over his face in embarrassment “Just, forget i said anything.”

But you’re grinning now. It was your turn to tease him and man it felt good.

The arena is alive with energy, the kind that shakes the walls and hums beneath your skin. You’re here. At a hockey game. Voluntarily. Yunjin nearly fell off the bleachers when you agreed without your usual dramatic sigh and drawn-out complaints. She had pestered you the entire way here, elbowing you in the ribs, wiggling her eyebrows, making heart gestures with her hands.

“I know why you suddenly want to come,” she had sing-songed, a smug grin plastered on her face. You had simply rolled your eyes, refusing to entertain her antics. But now, sitting in the middle of the buzzing crowd, you feel… different.

For the first time, you’re actually watching the game. Not just tolerating it, not just suffering through it for Yunjin’s sake—you’re watching, eyes trained on one player in particular. Lee Heeseung.

You’ve never really paid attention before, never really noticed the way he moves across the ice like he was born on it. He’s fast, insanely fast, weaving through players with a sharp focus you’ve never seen from him anywhere else. The same guy who saunters into tutoring sessions late, who smirks and teases and never takes anything seriously—here, he’s different. He’s serious. Disciplined. And you suddenly understand why people look at him the way they do. Why he’s not just good—but great.

Your chest tightens as you watch him skate down the ice, stick-handling the puck with effortless precision before passing it off to a teammate. A minute later, the puck is passed back to him, and in one smooth motion, he winds up his shot. The slapshot is powerful, cutting through the air before slamming into the back of the net. The entire arena erupts. Heeseung’s teammates swarm him, cheering, helmets knocking against each other as they embrace. The student section roars, chants of his name ringing out through the stands.

And you— You cheer. For the first time ever a hockey game has actually excited you. You let the fact that it was a grueling, animalistic sport slip away from you and you allowed yourself to have fun. To watch the people around you at the edge of their seats and you be a part of it. You weren't sulking in your seat wishing you were anywhere but here, no you were having fun. It was liberating. Why hadn;t you allowed such a simple pleasure before.

You don’t even realize it at first. It’s small, just a quiet “yes!” under your breath, but Yunjin hears it. Her head whips toward you so fast it’s a miracle she doesn’t get whiplash. “Oh. My. God.”

You blink, startled. “What?”

Her jaw drops, hands gripping your arm in a death hold. “You just cheered.” You open your mouth to protest, but she’s already gasping dramatically. “I can’t believe it. You—you like hockey. You like hockey.”

You shove her off, cheeks burning. “I do not.”

“You do! You just cheered! You’ve been watching the game, and not in a ‘God, this is so stupid’ kind of way, but like a real fan.” She gasps again. “Oh my God, do you have a jersey under your coat? Are you secretly a hardcore Lee Heeseung fangirl?”

You glare at her. “I swear to God, Yunjin—”

But she just grins, eyes sparkling with pure mischief. “You like him.”

Your stomach flips. “I do not.”

“You do!” She wiggles her brows, giddy like she’s just discovered the best gossip of the century. “You’re watching him like he hung the moon, and you cheered, and you didn’t even complain when I dragged you here!”

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “I just—” You hesitate, glancing back toward the ice where Heeseung is still grinning, fist-bumping his teammates. And for the first time, you admit it to yourself. You like him. You really like him. Even if he stole your first kiss like it was a joke, even if he’s late sometimes, even if he never takes anything seriously with that stupid little smirk on his face. You like him. Lee Heeseung had surprised you. He was nothing you had thought him to be. He was funny, he was kind, he was smart even if he thought otherwise.

The realization settles over you like a weight you’re not sure you’re ready to carry. Because no way does Heeseung feel the same way about you. Does he? He called your little cafe hang out a date. He’s told you things about himself that i’m sure only his closest friends would know. He kissed you for god sake. Maybe he does like you back?

“Even if i do like him..” You mutter finding it hard to get the words out. “It’s not like he would like me back?”

“It doesn’t hurt to find out right?” Yunjin asks with a big dopey grin on her face.

“That’s the thing..” You trail off “It does hurt to ask, because if he doesn't like me back then it will be awkward, it will ruin everything we've done so far.”

“Sure.” Yunjin nods “But you can’t walk around with this crush looming over you. Things like this can’t go unsaid..”

You just nod at her not really wanting to further conversation here of all places. The game was over and everyone was starting to leave, it would be humiliating if someone were to hear the two of yours conversation.

“Come on.” Yunjin grabbed your arm “We have to wait for Soobin..”

You stand outside the rink with Yunjin, your arms crossed over your chest as she bounces on the balls of her feet, clearly eager to see Soobin. The energy is still electric from the game, students lingering in groups, buzzing about the win. You’re pretending to listen to Yunjin ramble about some play that Soobin made, but your eyes keep flickering toward the players filtering out of the locker room. Looking for him. But Heeseung’s nowhere to be found.

You’re not sure why you care. Not sure why your stomach twists in disappointment every time another player walks past and it’s not him. You were sure you looked like a little lost puppy, how pathetic of you really.

“Looking for someone?” Yunjin cooes, a grin on her face. You shake your head at her relentlessness. She never gives up does she.

“No.” You deadpan “I’m not.”

“Sure.” she giggles. But she didn't believe you. And truthfully you didn't believe yourself.

Luckily, Soobin finally emerges, and Yunjin squeals, launching herself at him. He laughs, catching her with ease, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. “Did you see my goal?” he teases.

“I saw everything,” Yunjin gushes. You roll your eyes, but there’s a small, unbidden smile playing on your lips as you watch them. You always admired their relationship and the way Soobin takes such good care of Yunjin. Sure, you weren't the biggest fan of hockey players but Soobin was one of the good ones. Yunjin loved him, so in turn you loved him too. Unless he hurt her. Then he’d had hell to pay. But, they've been going strong for two years now so the chance of that happening was slim to none it seemed.

The moment is cut short when a group of guys from the opposing team walks past, their presence immediately shifting the air. “Nice win,” one of them says, voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes land on Soobin. “Lucky, huh?”

Soobin tenses beside Yunjin, but his expression remains neutral. “Just played our game, man.”

One of the guys scoffs. “Right. Guess even a broken clock is right twice a day.” Jake and Jay join the group just in time to hear that, their easygoing post-game demeanor sharpening.

“Problem?” Jake asks, his usual grin gone. It was so unlike Jake to not have a beaming smile on his face. He was almost never this serious from what you’ve seen of him.

The guy just smirks. “Not at all. Just wondering what your team is gonna do when Lee Heeseung finally crashes and burns.” Something in your chest tightens.

Jake’s jaw ticks. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. You know it as well as we do. Without hockey, Heeseung is nothing. Just another dude who peaked in college and has nothing to fall back on.” The guy laughs, shaking his head. “Damn shame, really.” You see red.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you step forward. “Excuse you?” The guy turns to you, clearly amused. “Oh? And who are you?”

“I’m the person telling you to shut the hell up,” you snap, surprising everyone—including yourself. Heeseung might drive you insane. He might be arrogant and cocky and an infuriating flirt. But the way they’re talking about him—like he’s disposable, like he doesn’t matter beyond what he can do on the ice—it bothers you. It bothers you a lot. More than it should maybe. But at this moment you didn’t care. You sure as hell were not going to let sore losers talk down on him when he wasn’t even here to defend himself.

You keep going, anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t know anything about him. You don’t know how hard he works, how much pressure he’s under. He’s one of the best players in the league, and that’s why you’re all so bitter.” You let out a scoff. “And if he did quit hockey tomorrow? He’d still be ten times the person any of you are.” The group goes silent for a beat. Then the guy just laughs. He actually laughs. You tense up, readying yourself to really have at them.

“Damn,” he snickers, looking at his teammates. “She’s got it bad.” Heat rises to your face. Was it really that obvious? Were you just humiliating yourself? You cursed yourself for opening your mouth in the first place. For allowing these assholes to get under your skin.

You open your mouth to argue, but he just shakes his head, still chuckling. “Good luck with that, sweetheart.” Then they walk off, leaving you standing there, seething and embarrassed for making a scene.

“Damn.”

You turn to find all eyes on you. It made you want to sink into yourself and put yourself away for the next year. A closed off hole in the dirt would be a better place for you right now then where you were currently. Jake raises his eyebrows, impressed. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Neither did I,” Jay adds, smirking.

Even Soobin is looking at you like he’s seeing you in a new light. Everyone was looking at you like you were a totally different person than who you were. And you didn't know if you liked it.

But it’s Yunjin who nudges your side, grinning knowingly. “Interesting.” You groan, rubbing your temples. Because, yeah. It is interesting. Because for all the times you’ve denied it, all the times you’ve tried to pretend you don’t care about Heeseung— You just proved, in front of everyone, that you do.

The next day, you wait for Heeseung at the library, tapping your pen impatiently against your notebook. Five minutes turn into fifteen. Fifteen into thirty. But he never shows. Annoyance bubbles inside you. Typical. Still, something feels different this time. After the kiss, after everything that happened, you expected—no, hoped—things would shift between you. Instead, he’s just… disappeared. And you hate that you care. Everything was ok. He was flirty, so why was he ignoring you? Why was he flaking?

So, against your better judgment, you find yourself heading toward the frat house. The music is low, a few guys lounging around, but it’s nothing like the parties you’ve been dragged to before. When you ask where Heeseung is, they just gesture upstairs, some of them giving you looks you pointedly ignore. You don’t even knock. You push open his door to find him sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

He barely spares you a glance. “What do you want?”

You scoff. “Seriously? You skip tutoring and act like I’m the one bothering you?” Heeseung tosses his phone aside, finally looking at you—but there’s no teasing glint in his eyes, no smirk. Just something unreadable, something guarded. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”

You frown. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for you to ignore me, either.”

Silence. Heeseung rubs the back of his neck, exhaling harshly. “Look, just forget it.”

You shake your head, frustration growing. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” He quips with a sarcastic laugh. It makes your blood boil.

“Like this. Distant. Rude. A total asshole.”

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Funny. I thought that’s how you always saw me.”

“That’s not—” You stop yourself, clenching your fists. “What’s your problem?”

Heeseung stands, suddenly in your space, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “My problem?” His voice is sharp now. “My problem is you making me look like an idiot.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?” The confusion coursing through you was palpable. You couldn’t remember a time you had made him look like an idiot. The two of you hardly interacted outside of the library and you certainly hadn’t been around each other when your friends were near. So what the hell was he talking about?

“Last night,” he mutters, his jaw clenched. “You stood there, in front of everyone, and defended me like I’m some kind of fucking charity case.” Oh. Oh.

Your breath catches in your throat. “That’s not what I was doing—”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” he interrupts. “I don’t need you to tell people I’m more than hockey. I am hockey.” His eyes darken. “And just because we kissed doesn’t mean you’re my fucking girlfriend.”

The words hit you like a slap. You open your mouth, then close it. You don’t even know what to say. The silence stretches between you like a canyon.

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“I didn’t ask for you to do that,” he cuts you off. “I don’t need saving.” You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn’t trying to save you, Heeseung. I was just—”

He laughs, but it’s anything but amused. “You were just what?”

“Caring,” you snap. “I was caring, okay? God forbid someone actually gives a shit about you.” Something flashes across his face—something raw, something almost vulnerable—but it’s gone as quickly as it came. A beat of silence. Then, softer: “I don't need you to care.”

And that, somehow, it hurts more than anything else he’s said. You nod, pressing your lips together. “Just drop it.” He says with finality. But you weren't done. No, you were fired up.

You should. You should just let it go. But instead, you shove his shoulder. “No.”

He looks at you, startled. “Did you just—” You shove him again.

He catches your wrist. “You’ve got some nerve.” You glare up at him. “And you’re a coward.”

His grip tightens slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You take a shaky breath. “You push people away because it’s easier than letting them in. It’s easier than admitting that you actually give a shit.” Heeseung’s eyes flicker with something unreadable. “And what if I don’t?” You swallow. “Then prove it.” His grip on your wrist tightens. And then, suddenly— His lips are on yours.

This time you don’t push him away, this time you welcome him. Because you wanted this, more than you’ve wanted anything else before. It’s rough, heated, and you should push him away. You should be furious. But instead, you find yourself kissing him back. You barely register him walking you backward until your back hits the wall, his hands gripping your waist, his lips trailing along your jaw, your neck. The argument, the hurt, the frustration—it all melts into something else entirely. Something that has been building since the first moment you met. And you don’t stop him. How could you when this was all you’ve wanted. All you’ve been thinking of. The kiss is hard, almost punishing, like he’s trying to prove a point. But you don’t pull away. You kiss him back, fisting the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer.

It’s heated, desperate, fueled by something neither of you want to name. His hands find your waist, and before you know it, you’re stumbling back onto the bed. Your heart is racing. This is a bad idea. This is reckless and impulsive and everything you swore you wouldn’t do. But when Heeseung hovers over you, his lips brushing against yours— you don’t want him to stop. And you beg him not to.

“Don’t stop.” You breathe pulling away an inch to whisper the words. “Please.”

“But-” He stutters his own breathing labored “You’ve never..”

“I want to.” You nod at him, giving him all the reassurance he needs.

“Are you sure?” He asks you, his lips leaving a small trail on your neck down to your collarbone. “Tell me you’re sure.”

“I’m sure heeseung.” You grabbed his face, so his eyes were leveled with yours. “I want you.”

Heeseung’s hands continued down the expanse of your body. Running his palms up and down your sides until they reached your waist. He pulled at your body until you’re forced down onto your back with a huff.

“You’re so beautiful” Heeseung mumbles from above you. “I’m so lucky to be the only man to see you like this…” He coos as his hands made quick work of sliding your yoga pants down your legs revealing your white cotton panties to his eyes. “Right baby?” He hummed “I’m lucky right?”

You could barely form words as you watched drink in the sight of you. You nod at him that being the only form of communication you could offer him. His hands run up your body again, slowly caressing you. Until he reached your tank top covered breasts. His hands squeezed at them causing a broken gasp to leave your lips.

You had never been touched by a man like this. So sensually, so erotic. Your body felt ablaze with need for him; you didn't know how to contain yourself. “Please.” You whispered, lifting your hips off the bed, showcasing your ever growing need for him.

“Be patient baby, I want to take my time with you.” Heeseung pulled at the top of your tank top, yanking it down to expose your breasts to him. He smiled at you, a smile that had made you feel warm inside, safe. His hands kneaded the skin of your breasts. Breathy moans left your lips as you watched Heeseung in fascination. He was beautiful like this. You had never seen a more beautiful man before.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?” Heeseung asked, and for a second you were confused until you felt his nimble fingers on your most sensitive area. An area that had not yet been explored. It had your breath stuttering, your nerves alight.

Heeseung’s finger circled your clit, his eyes watching your for any signs of discomfort. “This might feel a little uncomfortable, just tell me if you want me to stop and I will okay?”

“Okay.” You sigh. Heeseung’s finger dips inside of you and at first the stretch is uncomfortable but not painful and soon..it starts to feel good. A moan leaves your lips before you could stop it.

“Fuck.” Heeseung hisses eyes trained on your pussy and how well you were taking his finger. “I’m going to add another one..you’re so tight.”

“Oh my god.” You whispered as the feeling of his fingers going in and out of you became almost too much to bear.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Heeseung whispered eyes still trained downwards, watching himself fuck you with his fingers.

“Yes, fuck yes.” Your moans were loudly and could probably be heard throughout the entire house but you didn’t care. It felt too good.

Suddenly, the feeling was yanked from you when Heeseung pulled his fingers out. His hands immediately traveled to his pants, yanking them down in one fell swoop. “You’re ready for me.” He said, pulling your hips to the end of the bed.

“Heeseung…” You trailed off “Is it going to hurt?” You asked him. Heeseung looked at you with a softness you had rarely ever seen from him before.

“It will sting a little..” He admits “But tell me if it's too much and I'll stop right away.”

“Okay, i’m ready” You give him a little smile and a nod, mentally preparing yourself. You were about to lose your virginity to a guy that wasn’t even your boyfriend. And you wanted to, you were excited to.

Heeseung lined himself at your entrance watching your face to gauge your reaction, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. You felt him run the tip of his cock up and down your folds, collecting your wetness. And finally after what felt like forever he slid in. slowly, inch by inch. The stretch was far more uncomfortable than his fingers. And he was right to say it would sting. But it was not unbearable. And finally when he was fully inside, hips flush against yours you had felt so close to him, more close than you had ever felt to anyone. It was almost romantic. Not almost, it was.

Heeseung slowly moved himself in and out of you allowing you to get used to his size.

“God.” He hissed out, his fingers making dents in your thighs as he tried his best to contain himself. “So…fucking…tight.”

“Yeah?” You asked, your voice light and airy. Your hands reached for his shoulders digging your fingertips into his skin. “Does it feel good?”

Heeseung groaned at your words pistoning his hips harder inside of you. “Y-yes” He stuttered. “Best pussy i’ve ever felt.”

You smiled at his crude words but you would be lying if you didn't think his words to be oddly…sweet.

“Faster.” You moaned, moving your hands down to circle at your clit. “You can go faster.”

Heeseung let out another deep girdled groan lifting your knees to your chest allowing himself to hit a deeper spot inside of you. It had you gasping for breath. The new angle sends you hurtling to your orgasm before you could even catch your breath.

“Fuckkkk” Heeseung’s moans were like music to your ears, a sound you had never thought you would have the pleasure of hearing and now that you have you would never give up.

Your orgasm served as a catalyst to his as he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty. His hand worked himself up and down, his breathing heavy and chest heaving up and down. “Oh my god.” He groaned as droplets of his cum landed on your stomach. You watched him with wide eyes, your own chest falling in tandem with his.

“Are you okay?” He asks after a while, letting you both catch your breath.

“Yeah..” You sigh. “More than okay.”

The next day, Heeseung is out of town for an away game, leaving you alone with your thoughts—ones you don’t particularly want to sit with. Over thinking the night the two of you had over and over again. It was perfect, in your mind. And you didn’t regret not one bit.

When Yunjin suggests another movie night, you jump at the distraction. Wanting a way to calm your raging nerves. An hour later, the two of you are curled up on your respective sides of the couch, Chinese takeout containers balancing on your laps, Legally Blonde playing on the screen. But you’re barely paying attention. Your mind is still tangled in the events of last night—the heat of Heeseung’s touch, the way he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, the things he whispered against your skin.

It’s only a matter of time before Yunjin notices. She shoots you a knowing look, pausing the movie. “Okay. Spill.”

You hesitate, staring down at your lo mein. “Spill what?”

She scoffs. “Don’t even try that. You’ve been acting weird all night. Like, more weird than usual.”

You exhale, pressing your lips together. Then, before you can overthink it, you blurt, “I slept with Heeseung.” The silence that follows is deafening. Yunjin just stares at you, chopsticks frozen mid-air. “You what?”

You groan, setting your food down. “You heard me.” She blinks. “Oh my god.”

“I know.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know!”

Yunjin drops her chopsticks and grabs your hands, shaking them. “Okay, okay. Start from the beginning. How did this happen?” So you tell her. You tell her about going to the frat house, about how Heeseung was being an asshole again, about the argument that escalated into something else entirely. By the time you’re done, Yunjin is still holding onto you, eyes wide. “So… what happens now?” You bite your lip. That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because the truth is—you don’t know.

“I have no idea,” you admit. “We didn’t really talk about it. He had to leave early for the game this morning.”

Yunjin watches you carefully. “And how do you feel?”

You hesitate. “I don’t regret it.” That’s the one thing you’re sure of. Yunjin nods, but there’s a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Just… be careful, okay?”

You give her a small smile. “I will.” She studies you for another moment, then sighs dramatically, flopping back against the couch. “Well, damn. I guess this makes you a hockey girlfriend now.”

You snort. “I am not a hockey girlfriend.”

“Not yet.” She waggles her eyebrows. You groan, throwing a pillow at her. She yelps, laughing as she ducks.

Monday rolls around, and you’re actually excited to see Heeseung again. It’s ridiculous. You know it’s ridiculous. But after everything that happened, after the way things felt so different between you, there’s a small, traitorous part of you that wonders if things have actually changed. But then hours pass. And Heeseung doesn’t text. Doesn’t call. You tell yourself you're not the type of girl that obsesses over whether a boy will call her or not but it’s hard not to. Not when said boy just made you feel like the most special girl in the world. The one who took your virginity and made it the most special moment of your life. The boy you're falling so madly and deeply in love with.

You’re not that type of girl. By the time evening comes around, you’ve tried convincing yourself a hundred times that you don’t care—that you don’t need to hear from him. So when Yunjin texts you, asking if you want to grab food at the diner, you immediately say yes. A distraction is exactly what you need. A night at a little diner with your best friend who knows about Heeseung. You can get some perspective from a girl who's in a happy and healthy relationship. She’ll tell you that Heeseung is just tired, he was away all weekend playing Hockey he might just want to rest. All your worries will be satiated and then you can focus on having a good dinner.

The diner is packed when you walk in, the usual buzz of students filling the space. You and Yunjin are making your way to a booth near the back when she suddenly stops short. You follow her gaze—and feel your stomach drop. At a table near the center of the diner sits Heeseung, Soobin, and the rest of the hockey guys, all laughing loudly over burgers and milkshakes like they don’t have a care in the world. And Heeseung—he looks fine. Like nothing happened.

Yunjin glances at you. “Do you want to—” Before she can finish, you take a breath and start walking. You’re not going to hide from him. That would be pathetic. You’re just going to go over, say hi, and act normal. But the second you and Yunjin reach the table, you can feel the shift in energy.

Heeseung tenses when he sees you, his usual cocky smirk faltering for a second before he recovers. “What are you doing here?” You blink, taken aback by his tone. “Getting food. What does it look like?” Some of the guys at the table snicker, and your stomach twists. You feel small. You feel helpless.

Heeseung leans back in his seat, his jaw tightening. “Didn’t realize you were such a fan of hockey hangouts.”

You furrow your brows. “What?” Your heart drops to your stomach.

He shrugs. “I mean, I just didn’t peg you as someone who follows guys around, but hey—good to know.”

The table erupts into laughter, and heat flares up your neck. You cannot believe this. is he seriously—after everything—is he seriously doing this right now? He’s humiliating you. And for what? To look cool? To hurt you? Because it was working, he was hurting you. Soobin, however, notices immediately. His gaze flicks between you and Heeseung, frown deepening. You glance at Yunjin, whose mouth is already set in a furious line. But before you can say anything, she grabs a cup off the table—one full of soda and ice—and without hesitation, throws it straight at Heeseung.

Gasps ring out. The laughter stops immediately. Heeseung sits there, stunned, soda dripping from his hair and down his face. The entire diner is watching now, but Yunjin doesn’t care. “What the fuck, Yunjin?!” Heeseung exclaims, jumping up, shaking the liquid off his hands. She glares at him with pure, unfiltered rage. “You are such a fucking asshole, Lee Heeseung.”

Then she grabs your hand, yanking you away from the table before you can even process what just happened. Leaving your heart at the table with him. Shattered for everyone to see.

The second you’re outside, the cool air hitting your flushed skin, you exhale sharply. “Holy shit.” Yunjin looks just as pissed as you feel. “What the hell was that?”

You shake your head, anger and humiliation swirling inside you. “I don’t know.” But what you do know? You’re done. Done making excuses for Heeseung. Done thinking that maybe—just maybe—he’s not the person you feared he was. Because he just proved exactly who he is. And it hurts.

When the two of you are back at the dorm you allow yourself to cry, to feel the emotions as they came. The heeseung you thought you knew would never do this to you. But it was clear to you now that he only used you as a means to pass his class. His sweet personality was only a well executed act that you were stupid enough to fall for. How could you fall for that? Hockey boys were nothing but egoistic man boys who threw each other around, chasing a puck for a living. They lacked sustenance, they lived their lives like barbarians and you hated them, and everything they stood for.

You yanked your phone out of your back pocket before swiping to Heeseung’s contact. You hovered over his name for only a second before you opened messages and typed out; “Tutoring is done. Don’t text me, don’t call me. Goodbye.” and you wished you could gather the words to hurt him the way he hurt you but you just didn’t have the strength. You wanted to forget Lee Heeseung and hockey all together.

Days pass in almost a blur. You contine life as usual only Heeseung is no longer a part of it. You avoid him like the plague, if he’s near at all you bolt. There was no talk of hockey in the dorm anymore. Yunjin was just as pissed and hurt as you. She was the best friend anyone could ever ask for really.

It was Friday night when you finally had time to settle in for the night. You had an old copy of pride and prejudice in your hand and a hot cup of tea next to you. Yunjin was with Soobin for the night so you were finally alone. It was just past ten-thirty when the sound of pounding on your dorm broke you out of your reading trance. You hurried out of your bed, opening the door with a sense of urgency. Only to be met with Heeseung.

He was holding a piece of paper in his hand, sporting a grin on his face. The audacity of him. To show up to your dorm..grinning. Was it is lifes mission to torture because it sure did feel like it. The look on Heeseung’s face as you slam the door almost makes you falter. Almost. You stand there, heart racing, hands clenched into fists as you try to steady your breathing. On the other side of the door, you hear nothing at first—just silence. And then: “Wait—no. Wait.”

A loud knock. You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to do this. “Please, just open the door,” Heeseung says, his voice muffled.

You shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “Go away, Heeseung.”

“I—no. Not until you listen to me.” Another knock. Then another. “I swear I wasn’t using you.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me.”

“I mean it.” His voice is closer now, pressed right up against the door. “That night at the diner—I fucked up, okay? I was an idiot. I didn’t want the guys to know about—” He pauses. “About us.” Something about the way he says us makes your stomach twist. You hate that a part of you still wants to listen. “Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you expect. “Why is it so humiliating to be seen with me?”

“It’s not,” he says immediately. “That’s not—fuck. That’s not what I meant.” You don’t respond. You don’t know what to say. “Can you—” He exhales, frustration laced in his voice. “Can you at least open the door so I can look at you while I apologize?” You hesitate. Of course, you hesitate. You should just tell him to leave. He doesn’t deserve the chance to explain himself after what he did. But against your better judgement and like a complete and utter idiot, you unlock the door.

The second it swings open, Heeseung is standing there, wide-eyed, like he wasn’t sure you’d actually do it. He looks… tired. Like he hasn’t slept in days. Slowly, he lifts the crumpled test paper in his hand. “I got a hundred”

You glance at it, then back at him. “Good for you,” you say again, flatly. “I guess using me was worth it.”

His jaw clenches. He rubs the back of his neck. “I know you don’t owe me anything. I just—” He shakes his head. “I panicked, okay? I thought if the guys found out about… us, they’d—”

“They’d what, Heeseung?” You cross your arms. “Make fun of you? Say something stupid? Newsflash—people say stupid shit all the time.” He looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it.”

His hands tighten into fists. His lips press together like he’s warring with himself. “I just—I’ve spent years making sure people see me a certain way. That I’m not the same loser I was before.” You stare at him. “And you think being seen with me ruins that image?”

His head snaps up. “No.” He steps closer, and for the first time since that awful night, his voice is softer. “That’s not what I meant.” He swallows. “You make me feel different. And that—” He shakes his head, frustrated. “That scares me.” You don’t know what to say. Because what do you do with that? What do you do with the fact that this boy, the same one who humiliated you in front of everyone, is now standing here saying things you never expected to hear?

A lump forms in your throat. “Then maybe you should figure out what you actually want, Heeseung.” He looks at you, something raw in his expression. “I already know what I want.” But you don’t let yourself believe him. Not yet. So you step back. And this time, when you close the door, you do it gently. And you let yourself cry because that’s the only thing you can control right now.

The next night you're curled up in bed, the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminating your face as a movie plays in the background. You’re not really watching, though. You’re just existing, letting the noise drown out your thoughts. The door swings open, and Yunjin and Soobin step inside, their laughter filling the space. Yunjin glances at you before excusing herself to the bathroom, leaving you alone with Soobin. He hesitates for a moment before sitting down on the edge of your bed. “Hey,” he says gently. “How are you doing?”

You don’t even look away from the screen. “I’m great.”

Soobin scoffs. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.”

You sigh, finally meeting his gaze. He’s watching you carefully, like he’s trying to piece you together. His usual playful demeanor is gone, replaced with something softer. “Heeseung is a mess,” Soobin says after a moment. “He misses you. And he’s sorry.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to care. But despite yourself, a single tear slips down your cheek.

“He used me, Soobin,” your voice cracks, and you look down at your lap. “How can I forgive him? Why would I?” Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t hesitate when he says, “Because you love him. And he loves you.” Your breath catches. it’s so simple, so matter-of-fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he’s just waiting for you to admit it to yourself. Before you can say anything, Yunjin steps out of the bathroom, looking between the two of you. “You ready to go?” she asks Soobin.

He nods, standing up. But before he leaves, he gives you one last look. “Just… think about it, okay?” Then, they’re gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sit there long after the door closes, Soobin’s words echoing in your mind. Because you love him and he loves you.

Your heart clenches, and you wipe at the tear on your cheek, frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard. You shouldn’t still care this much. But the truth is—you do. You sigh, curling up tighter in your blanket. The movie playing in the background is one you’ve seen a million times, but you’re not paying attention. Your thoughts keep circling back to Heeseung. His face when you shut the door. The way his voice wavered when he admitted you scared him.

Does he really love you? Or is this just another game to him? You don’t know. And that uncertainty terrifies you. Opening your heart up terrifies you. A soft knock pulls you from your thoughts. Your stomach twists, half-expecting it to be Heeseung, but when you open the door, it’s Sunoo. “Hey,” he says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Yunjin texted me. Said you might need company.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. Of course she did. Sunoo plops down next to you on the bed, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in your lap. He watches you for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. “So. Are we wallowing or plotting revenge?” You huff out a laugh, shoving him lightly. “Neither.”

“Boring.” He sighs dramatically, throwing himself back against your pillows. “Okay, then what’s the plan? You’re clearly miserable. And I’m pretty sure Heeseung is too.” You don’t say anything, just stare down at the popcorn in your hands. Sunoo sighs again, but this time, it’s softer. “Look, I get why you’re mad. You should be mad. But…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not close with Heeseung and I barely know him since it’s my first year, but I’ve never seen him care about anyone the way he cares about you.”

Your chest tightens. “Then why did he treat me like that?”

“Because he’s an idiot.” Sunoo shrugs. “And because he’s scared. But mostly because he’s an idiot.” You roll your eyes. “Not helping.”

He nudges you. “I’m just saying… Maybe talk to him. Really talk to him.” You sigh, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know if I can trust him again.”

Sunoo is quiet for a moment, then says, “Then make him prove that you can.” You swallow hard, his words settling into your chest like a weight. Heeseung owes you more than just an apology. Maybe if he really wants you, he’ll fight for you. And maybe you, just maybe you’ll let him.

That weekend, Yunjin had had enough. She wasn’t about to let you wallow in self-pity any longer. “You’re coming to the game,” she announced, standing in front of your bed with her arms crossed. You groaned, pulling your blanket over your face. “Pass.”

“Not an option.” She yanked the covers away. “You’ve spent all week moping. You need to get out.”

“I am out,” you deadpanned. “My bed is out.”

“Not what I meant.” She rolled her eyes. “Get dressed. Now.” Despite your protests, she wasn’t having any of it. Eventually, after an absurd amount of bribery (including the promise of ice cream after), you gave in. By the time you arrived at the arena, the energy in the air was electric—fans were buzzing with anticipation, the scent of popcorn and arena food filling your senses. The rink was already packed, the game about to start, and you felt out of place among the sea of jerseys and face paint. Yunjin, however, was thrilled, chatting with other students and cheering before the puck even dropped. You sat stiffly beside her, arms crossed, doing your best not to look at the ice—because you knew if you did, your eyes would immediately find Heeseung.

And you weren’t ready for that. A few minutes into the game, Yunjin’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out, eyes scanning the screen before she let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh. Soobin left his gloves in the locker room. Can you please grab them for him?”

You turned to her with a glare. “Why can’t y—”

“Just go do it,” she cut you off, shoving your shoulder lightly. Something about her tone made you pause. She sounded too casual. Too… calculated. You narrowed your eyes. “This feels like a setup.”

She gasped, all mock innocence. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” You weren’t convinced, but the alternative was sitting here and enduring the game, so you sighed. “Fine.”

Yunjin grinned, and you shot her one last suspicious look before heading down the corridor. The locker room hallway was eerily quiet, the distant sound of the game muffled through the walls. You pushed open the heavy door, stepping inside, expecting to see rows of empty benches and Soobin’s gloves lying somewhere in the mess of gear. instead, standing in the middle of the room, was Heeseung. Your breath caught. He looked different off the ice—less intimidating without his helmet, his hair damp with sweat, curling slightly at the ends. He was still in his jersey, the bold number on his sleeve catching the light, his hockey bag slung over one shoulder.

And he was staring at you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was heavy, charged with everything that had been left unsaid. You clear your throat, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “I’m just here to grab Soobin’s gloves.” Your voice is steady, indifferent. Like seeing him doesn’t completely shake you.

Heeseung nods slowly, then gestures to the bench behind him. “They’re over there.” You walk past him, determined to just grab the gloves and leave, but as soon as your fingers curl around them, Heeseung speaks again. “You’re here.”

You freeze, but don’t turn around. “Yunjin dragged me.” A beat of silence. Then, softer—almost hesitant—Heeseung says, “I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”

You inhale sharply, gripping the gloves tighter. Finally, you turn to face him. “You made that pretty easy when you humiliated me.” Regret flickers in his expression. “I know,” he murmurs. “I was an idiot. A complete asshole. I told you, I was scared.”

You scoff. “Scared of what, Heeseung? That people would find out you actually cared about me? That you weren’t just some player?”

“Yes,” he admits, and the raw honesty in his voice takes you off guard. “I was scared of how much I cared about you. Scared that you’d realize I wasn’t good enough for you.” Heeseung runs a hand through his damp hair, exhaling shakily. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t matter, because you do. You do more than you realize.”

Your chest tightens, emotions crashing over you all at once. You want to be mad. You want to scream at him for the way he made you feel. But there’s something in his voice, in his expression—genuine remorse, vulnerability—that makes it hard to hold onto that anger. “You really hurt me, Heeseung,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. He steps closer, carefully, like he’s afraid you’ll run. “I know. And I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you.”

You swallow, emotions warring inside you. For a moment, neither of you move. Then, hesitantly, he reaches out—giving you the chance to pull away—but when you don’t, his fingers brush against yours, light and uncertain. “Can we just… start over?” he asks. “Please?”

Your heart pounds. A part of you wants to walk away, to protect yourself from getting hurt again. But another part—maybe the bigger part—wants to believe him. You take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. “Okay.”

“Okay”

reg taglist. (★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae, @ch4c0nnenh4, @kristynaaah

series taglist. (★) @saejinniestar , @chwesun , @vixialuvs , @slut4hee , @xylatox , @ghstzzn @skyearby @m1kkso @jakeswifez @heartheejake @hommyy-tommy @yunverie @lalalalawon

@strayy-kidz @wolfhardbby @kwiwin @immelissaaa @fancypeacepersona @starfallia @mariegalea @adoredbyjay @strxwbloody @lovingvoidgoatee @beeboobeebss @zyvlxqht @weyukinluv @flwwon

@guapgoddees @demigodmahash @cloud-lyy @heesky @ikaw-at-ikaw @shuichi-sama @shawnyle @kwhluv @iarainha @ikeuwoniee @mora134340

crossing the line masterlist coming soon.

#lee heeseung imagines #lee heeseung smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #enhypen scenarios

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bambisnc · 2 days ago

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( ➴ ) 𝑝𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 ⋆ a beautiful riddle

𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾; 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗇𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒

### . STARRING ⌢ bf!y.jw ⋆ drabble + fluff (?) + 0.6k // unedited + use of "baby" + reader is a little Insecure/worried + 💏💏 ˖ ✧

𝓍𝗈𝗑𝗈 ─── won fic debut hai >3< this has been drafts since foreva :/ + queuing this n going Straight to sleep if theres typos pls lmk + [FILE.ZIP]

“you keep backing away.”

a string of curses loops in your head at the observation — most of which are directed at your own self. you’re more than well aware of the fact that there’s no one to blame but you for ending up in this situation.

yang jungwon’s gaze is steadily locked onto yours. you hate the effect that the simple action has on you.

it’s quite literally the bare minimum but it has you barely even being able to bring yourself to meet his eyes, your body curling into itself like you could actually disappear under the weight of his attention.

he’s right, of course. you only realize it after he actually puts it into words, but you’ve managed to back yourself up against the wall completely.

it’s not as if you’re scared, obviously, but something about this — about him — is overwhelming in a way you aren’t prepared for.

(also, the way your heart is racing at the proximity is decidedly not helping.)

“and you won’t even look at me.” his words are as straight to the point as always. your boyfriend’s never been one to beat around the bush, after all.

you scramble to think of excuses. the absolute least you can do is attempt to defend yourself, “it’s not like that–...” but you trail off, not really knowing where and how to start explaining.

“then what is it like?,” he tilts his head slightly, expression unreadable, “i don’t want to force you into doing something you don’t want, baby – you know that, right? but you have to talk to me. i need to know what’s going on with you.”

what’s going on with you? oh, not much. you’re just in the middle of a mild (read : full blown) crisis.

you can understand where jungwon's coming from.

one can only avoid so many of their boyfriend’s attempts to kiss them before said boyfriend starts getting suspicious.

it’s not like you don’t want him to kiss you.

you do. you really, really do.

based on the scenarios you’re constantly plagued with, of him teasing kisses along your jaw, your neck, the corner of your mouth; the trail finally ending with your lips on his…, that’s clearly not the issue.

you blink, shaking your head to bring your focus back to the present only to find that jungwon is somehow even closer now. his arm is braced against the wall beside your head now, his eyes still resolutely fixed on you.

…

the thing is … you’re scared.

scared you’ll be awkward. scared you won’t be good at it, not good enough. scared it won’t be the way you imagine, that it’d be messy, clumsy, disappointing.

and really, you know it’s stupid.

first kisses aren’t supposed to be perfect anyways, are they? there’s bound to be some … complications.

“it’s more than fine if you want to take things slow.” he’s always been rather perceptive, hasn't he? “we don’t have to do anything if you aren’t-”

but before he can finish, before the subtle worry in his voice can settle—

you kiss him.

… there are no fireworks. no birds singing, no spontaneous confetti.

and yes, it’s a little rushed, a little shaky.

but it’s real.

his breath stutters for only a second before he recovers, hands finding your waist, pulling you closer. the warmth of his lips is soft against yours, sending a wave through your system.

and — oh.

maybe you had nothing to be worried about, after all.

𐙚 . regulars : @chrrific @jessxxxfwd @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @weedatthegasstattion @flipitkickit ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

#ㅤㅤ[ 📋 ⋆ 𐙚 ]#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen jungwon #enhypen fluff #yang jungwon #yang jungwon fluff #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon x reader #enha x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #jungwon fluff #jungwon #kpop x reader

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itendtothinkalot · 1 day ago

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professional yearner (jake sim edition)

summary: growing up, you had two heroes: jake and sunghoon. thick and thin, chaos and crayons, they were always there. so when your ex dumped you for "being so oddly close to your best friends” well… fair. but what he didn’t get is that you never needed him. you’ve always had jake sim and maybe that was the problem.

genre: fluff | best friends to lovers | jake's a professional yearner

characters: best friend!jake x f!reader

words: 13k??

warnings: kissing? making out? thats it!

The schoolyard was too hot. The kind of heat that made your socks stick to your ankles and your patience wear thin. It smelled vaguely like cheese sticks and someone’s forgotten gym shirt. And in the middle of it all—Jake Sim was crying.

Not the loud, hiccuping kind. No. Jake cried the way the sky threatened rain—quiet, heavy, trembling on the edge. His eyes were red, his mouth pressed into a thin, brave line, and his fingers clutched a half-crushed grape soda like it might hold him together.

Across from him stood Minhyuk Kang. Middle school tyrant. Bad haircut. Worse personality. He was smirking like he’d won something.

You weren’t having it.

Your backpack hit the ground as you stormed across the yard, fists curled tight. Your heart pounded in your ears. You didn’t even think—just moved, fueled by friendship and blind loyalty.

“Hey!” you shouted, voice cracking. “Pick on someone your own size, you—oversized… loser!”

Not your best. You were eleven. Your brain was still 60% Capri Sun.

Minhyuk blinked, unimpressed. Then shoved you. Hard.

You hit the pavement with a thud, landing on your butt. Your backpack burst open–papers, pencils, and one private doodle of a sparkly unicorn horse went flying across the asphalt.

Laughter erupted around you.

And then—

That sigh.

That tired, long-suffering sigh that said “I’m getting tired of this,” from a boy who was spiritually seventy-five years old.

Park Sunghoon.

He approached with his hoodie sleeves covering his hands and his cap tilted sideways, like he couldn’t be bothered but also like he was already deciding how to fix this. He stopped beside you and glanced at the chaos—Jake’s glassy eyes, your scraped knees, Minhyuk’s dumb smirk.

Without saying a word, he gave Minhyuk a look.

The kind of look that could curdle milk. Or send boys twice his size packing.

Minhyuk flinched. Then, like the coward he was, mumbled something about catching his bus and slinked away.

You blinked up at Sunghoon. Jake sniffed beside you.

And then—without coordination, without thinking—you and Jake both lunged forward and wrapped your arms around Sunghoon at the same time.

He froze. Sighed again. But he didn’t pull away.

“I’m gonna be stuck looking after you two for the rest of my life, aren’t I?” he muttered.

You grinned into his sleeve. “Yep.”

“Definitely,” Jake added, his voice a little wobbly but smiling now.

Sunghoon didn’t say he loved you.

He didn’t have to.

The cafeteria buzzed around you—noisy, fluorescent, filled with the sound of trays clattering and people trying too hard to sound casual. Jake was nursing a carton of strawberry milk, lazily spinning it between his fingers. Sunghoon sat across from him, trying and failing to look like he wasn’t deeply regretting his protein bar.

Jake leaned over dramatically, voice pitched just loud enough to reach Sunghoon but still just out of your range. “Look at her,” he whispered, grinning. “In love. Disgusting.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up. “I give it two minutes before she makes us throw up.”

You shot them a look over your shoulder and tossed a crumpled napkin in their direction. “Shut up. I’m talking.”

Jake put on a high-pitched falsetto immediately. “‘Hi baby. No, baby, you hang up first. No, you.’”

Sunghoon chimed in, completely deadpan. “‘Babymuffin. Babylove. Babyback ribs.’”

You bit back your laugh and turned away, pressing the phone closer to your ear, trying to keep your voice soft. “No, I’m not ignoring you. I’m with Jake and Sunghoon.”

There was a pause.

Then, flat and cold: “…Again?”

Your stomach dropped. Just a little.

“I told you I’d be with them today,” you said. “It’s the championship game.”

“You said you’d try to come to my gig,” came the reply, sharper now. “You promised. But of course you’d rather play cheerleader for those two.”

“It’s not like that,” you said, your voice tightening. “I told you weeks ago this was important. They’ve worked so hard for this—”

“Jesus. Do you even care about me?” he cut in. “Or am I just the guy you date when your real boyfriends are busy?”

Your hand clenched around your phone. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re always choosing them. Every time. Like I’m your backup plan—”

“They’re my best friends.” You snapped now, barely keeping your voice down. “You knew that from the beginning.”

And that was when you noticed: the table had gone silent. Jake wasn’t spinning his milk anymore. Sunghoon’s jaw was tight. Both of them were watching you.

“And you’re supposed to be my girlfriend,” your boyfriend hissed through the line. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

You stared down at the table.

Then, softly, with every ounce of control you had left: “You should know that Sunghoon and Jake are–.”

Click.

The line went dead.

The phone hit the table with a muted thud.

You didn’t look up. Not right away. Your arms crossed, your nails digging into your sleeves. Your heart pounded too fast, too hard, and it wasn’t even from the words. It was from how familiar this had started to feel. Like you were always apologizing for choosing the people who never made you feel like a second choice.

Jake’s voice came low, tight. “What’d that idiot say this time?”

Gone was the teasing lilt, the sunshine tone. He looked like he was one bad sentence away from marching across campus and settling it the old-fashioned way. Sunghoon nudged him under the table but Jake didn’t look away from you.

You finally glanced up, eyes tired. Your voice came quiet. “It’s your championship day. Let’s not ruin it.”

Jake held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary. His jaw flexed.

But he nodded.

For now.

—

You kept your arms crossed, head low, your gaze fixed somewhere on the cracks in the pavement. Not in a sulking way. Not even angry. Just… heavy. The kind of quiet where the world felt muffled, like someone had turned the volume down on everything.

Jake didn’t say anything. Not at first.

He just walked beside you in silence—his steps matching yours like second nature. Every few moments, the soft fabric of his hoodie brushed your sleeve, but he didn’t try to fill the quiet with noise. Just stayed close. Present. Like always.

Then, after a beat, he gently bumped your shoulder with his.

You didn’t look up, not right away. But you felt it. That familiar nudge. Like he was reminding you: hey, still here.

A few more steps passed before his voice came, light but careful.

“How many fingers am I holding up behind my back?”

You stopped walking.

Your breath hitched, just a little.

God. That game.

It used to be your thing. A childhood ritual for every scraped knee, every bad grade, every time you wanted to cry but didn’t. Jake would hold his hand behind his back and make you guess. If you got it right, you’d get a prize—usually something ridiculous. A neon sticker. A broken crayon. One time, a scribbled picture of you with superpowers and him as the hulk.

You hadn’t played that game in years.

But the second he said it, a small appeared on your lips.

You glanced sideways.

“…Seriously?”

Jake smiled. The kind that barely lifted one corner of his mouth—the one that felt like a secret. Like it was just for you.

“C’mon,” he said, eyes glinting. “Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”

You swallowed.

“Two,” you murmured.

Jake didn’t break eye contact. Just slowly turned and held out his hand behind his back, showing you—

Two fingers.

You let out the softest breath of a laugh. The kind that didn’t really sound like one. Just a shaky little puff of air. But it was enough to lighten your shoulders.

Jake grinned, triumphant. “Correct. Prize pending.”

You shook your head, a real smile threatening your lips now. “You still owe me for the time you cheated and held up zero.”

Jake’s eyes widened in mock horror. “That wasn’t cheating. That was high-level psychological warfare.”

“You made me do the chicken dance in front of my mom for a sticker.”

“You did it twice.”

“You said the first one lacked commitment.”

Jake was laughing now, soft and golden, and you couldn’t help it. You laughed too. Quiet. Cracked around the edges. But real.

The silence between you didn’t feel heavy anymore.

He tilted his head toward the lecture hall ahead. “Go grab a seat,” he said softly. “I’ll get you a coffee.”

You blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said, already backing away. “Unless you’d rather have emotional support gummies.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was warm. “Coffee, please.”

Jake gave you a little salute—two fingers, same as before. “Coming right up, princess.”

You stood there for a beat too long, then finally made your way into the lecture hall, choosing a seat near the back. You slung your bag down beside you and reached into your pocket, fingers brushing something crinkly.

You frowned. Pulled it out.

Your favorite candy.

The exact brand. The exact flavor. Not something you’d had on you today.

Your breath caught.

Jake.

He must’ve slipped it into your pocket when he bumped your shoulder. Probably while you were distracted. Quiet. Thoughtful. Stupidly considerate.

You stared at the wrapper like it meant something. Like it said everything he couldn’t.

You tucked it into your bag gently, like it was something precious.

Outside, somewhere in a line too long for a Tuesday afternoon, Jake was probably ordering your coffee with extra sugar and exactly two pumps of vanilla.

Because of course he remembered.

Of course he always did.

And maybe you didn’t say it out loud.

But in that moment—you didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Because no matter what, you had Jake.

—-

The bleachers vibrated beneath your feet, alive with nervous energy. Late afternoon sunlight poured across the field in gold streaks, turning everything too bright, too cinematic. You stood at the railing beside Niki and Sunoo, fingers curled tight around the metal bar, heart pounding harder than the game announcer’s voice overhead.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

Are you seriously ditching my gig for those two idiot friends of yours?Again? Really?You’re always doing this.You say I'm important, but it’s always them.You’re not dating them. You’re dating ME.

You rolled your eyes.

There was no use replying. You’d tried. He never got it.

Jake and Sunghoon weren’t just friends.

They were everything. They were your history. They were your present. They were scraped knees and matching science fair disasters. They were the reason your parents felt safe sending you to college. They were Sunday family dinners and sleepovers that never really ended.

They were home.

And okay—maybe your gaze drifted toward Jake a little more than it should’ve lately. Maybe it always had. Not in a way you noticed at the time. Not in a way that meant anything.

Just… in a way. As a friend, cf course. He was just…always sweet. What could you do?

Your eyes found him instantly.

Jake—number 10.

Sunlight caught the edges of his hair, wind tugging at the loose strands near his ears. His jersey clung to him, damp with sweat, legs quick and sure as he shouted across the field. His eyes were locked in, his whole body moving with this reckless kind of energy that made him hard to look away from.

Not that you were trying to look away.

You shook your head and scanned the field again, trying to find Sunghoon—but your gaze found Jake instead.

Again.

The crowd roared as the clock ticked down. 2–2. Final minute. The tension in the air buzzed through your chest like a live wire.

“I can’t watch,” Sunoo muttered beside you, peeking between his fingers. “He’s gonna pass out.”

“Shut up,” Niki hissed. “It’s getting good.”

Your eyes tracked Jake’s every step. He had the ball now—legs moving like water, flowing past defenders like they weren’t even there. Sunghoon flanked beside him, silent and steady, drawing players away.

Then Jake cut sharp to the left.

A beat.

A breath.

And then he kicked.

The ball soared.

Time stopped.

It flew past the goalie—clean, sure—and hit the net with a glorious, perfect thwack.

Silence.

And then chaos.

The stadium erupted. Teammates swarmed the field, screaming, leaping, colliding into Jake like a tidal wave of celebration. People were crying. Someone was waving a flag. You might’ve blacked out for a second.

But Jake—Jake didn’t stay buried in the huddle.

He pulled himself out.

Looked up.

And saw you.

And then, he ran.

Straight through the chaos, through teammates and coaches and cheering fans.

Right to you.

“PRINCESS, DID YOU SEE THAT?!” he yelled, already grinning like he couldn’t contain it.

You didn’t even think.

You ran.

You jumped into his arms—legs around his waist, arms around his neck—and he caught you like gravity didn’t exist between the two of you.

He spun you around, both of you laughing, breathless and weightless in the middle of a stadium filled with noise.

“That was insane, right?!” he said, still spinning, still grinning like a madman.

“You’re insane!” you yelled back. “That’s my best friend!!”

He held you tighter for a second.

You barely noticed how close you were. How steady his hands felt against your waist. How natural it felt to be in his arms.

You didn’t think too much about the way your laugh curled into something softer as he smiled at you. Or how your fingers lingered at the back of his neck just a moment too long.

You were just happy.

And Jake?

Jake was still looking at you like you’d hung the stars yourself.

But then you saw him.

At the edge of the crowd.

Your boyfriend.

He was standing stiffly, guitar slung over his back, eyes dark. He looked right at you. Then at Jake.

Then back at you.

And you saw it happen—saw the confirmation of every suspicion he’d ever thrown at you. Every insecure question. Every argument. Every pointed “you’re always with them.”

His jaw clenched.

And then he mouthed it.

Two words. Sharp. Final.

We’re done.

And he turned.

—-

The door slammed open behind you with enough force to shake the picture frames.

You didn’t check to see if Jake and Sunghoon were behind you. Of course they were. You could hear their footsteps trailing in, less hurried than yours but tinged with the same confused urgency. Like golden retrievers caught in a rainstorm—uncertain, blinking, too loyal to run.

“I cannot believe he dumped me!” you snapped, flinging your bag onto the floor like it had betrayed you. “He. Mr. Can't-Name-Three-Films-By-Studio-Ghibli. Mr. ‘I think astrology is fake but also I’m a Scorpio so that’s just how I am.’”

You kicked your shoes off, one of them narrowly missing the umbrella stand.

Jake ducked.

Sunghoon raised his eyebrows and wisely stayed quiet.

“I mean,” you huffed, voice going up a pitch as you spun toward them, “he plays the same three songs on guitar and called Christopher Nolan ‘overrated.’ And he—that man-child with a Spotify playlist called ‘sad vibez’ and no vowels—broke up with me?!”

Sunghoon winced. Jake looked like he was watching a house on fire and wondering if throwing himself into it would help.

You threw your hands up in disbelief. “I was going to dump him! I had a list! A literal note in my phone! And this man—this emo scarecrow of a boyfriend—had the audacity to beat me to it?!”

You stormed to the living room and collapsed onto the couch like it owed you reparations, arms flung over your face as you let out a long, frustrated groan.

“I can’t believe this. He said I was emotionally unavailable. Me! The girl who went to all his stupid open mic nights and pretended his lyrics weren’t just stolen posts from 2018 Twitter in stupid long verses.”

In the hallway, Jake leaned toward Sunghoon.

“Should we, like… say something?”

Sunghoon didn’t even look away from you. “Absolutely not.”

Jake frowned. “You’re the stable one. You talk to her.”

“You’re the one in love with her.”

Jake made a wounded sound in the back of his throat. “That’s not—I mean—I’m—”

“You literally made her tea last night and wrote her name on the mug in sharpie like a loser.”

Jake whispered, “It was a nice mug.”

You sat up abruptly, glaring at them like a storm cloud with a vendetta. “HEY. Tweedle Dee. Tweedle Dum. Shut the hell up. I’m having a justified crisis.”

They both stiffened like they’d been caught shoplifting.

You threw yourself back onto the couch again, dramatically draping your arm across your face.

Silence.

Then—

“She definitely just called us Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum,” Jake whispered.

“You’re Dum,” Sunghoon replied flatly.

“At least I didn’t cry watching Tangled.”

“…You said you wouldn’t bring that up again.”

“Then stop being Dum.”

You let out a guttural groan. “Can one of you just bring me ice cream or, like, a time machine so I can go back and tell myself to swipe left?”

Another pause.

Then quiet footsteps.

And a moment later, something cold landed in your lap.

Your favorite ice cream.

Jake didn’t say a word. Just sat on the floor in front of the couch, back leaning against it like it was the most natural thing in the world, head tilted slightly to look up at you.

He didn’t smile. Not fully. Just that soft, familiar curve of his lips that you’d seen a thousand times, always reserved for you. The kind that didn’t ask for anything, didn’t demand a response—just offered quiet presence.

Sunghoon dropped onto the floor beside him with a sigh, already scrolling through Netflix.

And you?

You breathed. For the first time all day, you breathed.

It didn’t erase the anger. Didn’t fix the betrayal. Didn’t un-stupid your ex.

But it made your chest ache a little less.

Because even in your most unhinged, spite-fueled, mascara-streaked moments—you still had this.

You had your boys.

—-

Your room was quiet, except for the low hum of the party a few buildings down—the bass thudding like a heartbeat through the floorboards, too far to join, too loud to ignore.

The fairy lights on your wall glowed soft and golden, casting little halos across your shelves, your pillows, the stack of unread books by your bed.

You sat cross-legged on your comforter, oversized hoodie bunched around your hands, hair damp from your post-meltdown shower. There was still a tightness in your chest, the kind that didn’t quite hurt, but hadn’t let you breathe fully in days.

Sunghoon stood behind you, a hairbrush in his hand.

“You sure you don’t wanna go?” he asked, gently easing the brush through the tangles near your crown.

You shrugged, slow and small. “And see him all over her? I’d rather chew glass.”

Her—being the bass player in your ex’s band. The one he swore was “just a friend” until he posted a ten-second Instagram story of himself shoving his tongue down her throat. Classy.

Honestly, you still didn’t know what you ever saw in that idiot.

Sunghoon sighed. You felt it more than you heard it—low and long, his breath ruffling a strand of your hair.

He didn’t say anything else. Just kept brushing, slow and steady, like he could detangle your hurt the way he was detangling the ends of your hair.

He always did this.

Ever since you were ten and crying after a costume mishap in the school play. He’d walked you home, sat you down, and—wordlessly—grabbed the brush from your desk. He’d been doing it ever since. Whenever your heart cracked, he patched it up strand by strand.

He even used your products now. Knew the exact amount of leave-in conditioner. Knew how to finger-detangle without tugging too hard. Knew when to talk—and more importantly, when not to.

You sat still, head tilted slightly forward, letting the rhythm lull you. The brush paused near the ends.

Then came the voice.

Quiet. Measured. A little softer than usual.

“He didn’t make you happy.”

You opened your mouth. But before anything could come out—

“Not once,” Sunghoon continued. “You bent so far backwards for him I was scared your spine would snap. And he never once met you halfway.”

You stared at your lap. Said nothing.

“I know it’s only been two days,” he said, letting out a little laugh, “but honestly? The air’s been easier to breathe without him around. Jake and I Fortnite danced to High School Musical in the living room earlier. Jake even tried to do a backflip.”

You snorted. Couldn’t help it.

Sunghoon grinned behind you. “Almost died. But I’ve never seen the boy look so free.”

You hummed, lips twitching faintly. “He wasn’t that emo.”

“He had stupid hair,” Sunghoon said flatly. “And he smelled like cigarettes and insecurity.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

“He called The Wind Rises boring,” you muttered.

Sunghoon gasped, mock horror in his voice. “Criminal. Unforgivable.”

He gently brushed the last of your hair over your shoulder, like a finishing touch. Then crouched in front of you, eye-level now.

And when he spoke next, the teasing was gone.

“You are the actual sun,” he said softly. “And he made you feel like a flickering lightbulb. That’s not love. That’s dimming someone just to feel taller.”

Your eyes stung, just a little.

Sunghoon didn’t flinch. He never did, when it came to you.

“I hated him from the beginning. Jake started calling him ‘the ashtray’ after the second time we all hung out. Not even behind his back. Just… said it.”

That made you laugh—truly laugh—for the first time in days. You shook your head. “You two are mean.”

“We’re honest,” Sunghoon corrected, getting to his feet. “And we love you. More than that guy ever could.”

You didn’t answer. Just looked at him.

And he didn’t say anything more.

Didn’t need to.

You let your head fall back against the headboard and sighed. “Okay. If you keep monologuing in my ear like this, I’m never gonna change.”

“Change?”

“You want me to go to this stupid frat party, don’t you?”

He smirked.

“Get out,” you said, pointing at the door. “Shoo. Go do your weird little victory dance with Jake.”

He walked backward, ruffling your hair on the way like a proud big brother. “She’s back,” he sing-songed, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Not if you keep talking.”

He opened the door with a dramatic bow. “I’ll tell Jake you caved.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered even after he was gone.

And yeah, your heart was still cracked.

But it felt a little less sharp now.

A little easier to carry.

And when you looked at your reflection in the mirror, your hair brushed smooth, cheeks still warm from laughter—

You didn’t look like a girl trying to forget.

You looked like someone learning how to feel light again.

—

As soon as Jake stepped through the door, he barely made it three steps before he was swallowed by chaos.

“JAKE! JAKE! JAKE!”

A rush of frat boys and soccer teammates surged toward him, loud and reckless, lifting him up like some war hero. His legs kicked midair as they carried him toward the heart of the party, chanting his name with increasing volume.

“JAKE! JAKE! MVP! MVP!”

Fairy lights spun above him, casting halos over sweat-damp foreheads. The bass pulsed through the floor, the air thick with beer and adrenaline and championship glory. Jake laughed, a little breathless, a little panicked.

“No—no, I’m good, I swear—”

Then… you saw him. Your ex. And her.

They were near the kitchen—your spot. The one you always waited at after his gigs. The one where he used to pull you into those tired, post-show hugs and whisper how glad he was you came. Now? He was there with her. Arm thrown over her shoulder like it belonged there. Like it hadn’t been around you last week. She was laughing like she’d earned it. Like she hadn’t been “just a friend” two seconds ago.

And the worst part? He looked fine. Smiling. Relaxed. Comfortable.

You weren’t sad. You didn’t miss him. But god, you were angry.

He moved on like you were an old t-shirt. Like you didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t just made you feel like you were the problem for weeks on end. Like he hadn’t convinced you to shrink for him—and then left anyway.

You stood there for one second. Just long enough to feel the burn in your chest. Long enough for your hands to curl into fists at your sides. Long enough for the blood in your veins to scream Really? Already?

Then you turned.

Fast.

Didn’t look back.

You didn’t know where you were going, only that the party felt too loud and too quiet all at once. People brushing past you, drinks in the air, music thumping. And still, all you could hear was your own pulse.

“SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!”

You blinked—and somehow, it was your voice leading the chant.

Your heels dug into the floor. Your lip gloss was smudged. There was probably mascara under your eyes. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to care.

Someone handed you a shot. You didn’t ask what it was. You downed it like medicine.

It burned. But that was the point.

You slammed the glass down on the nearest surface. “ANOTHER!” you shouted, voice cracking, spinning in place. “Let’s go! If I’m gonna be replaced, I might as well be unforgettable!”

Someone whooped. Someone clapped. Someone handed you another.

You tossed it back.

You weren’t spiraling. You were burning.

And the only thing worse than being dumped… Was being replaced this fast. Like you didn’t even leave a dent.

You were angry.

Angry that he got to be fine. Angry that she got to stand where you used to. Angry that your hands still shook while his were busy holding someone else.

And yeah, you’d moved on too. You didn’t want him back. Not for a second.

But it still felt like something had been stolen from you.

And you needed control. Any kind.

So when someone handed you another shot, you took it. And when someone said, “You okay?” you laughed so hard it echoed. Loud, sharp, cracked.

“Never better,” you said, the words tilting sideways like your balance.

And then he stumbled toward you.

Tall. Drunk. Slurring your name like he knew you. Like he mattered.

“Hey,” he grinned, “you’re the girl Jake never shuts up about, right?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said, swaying. “In the locker room. He’s always like ‘she’s so funny, she does this scrunchy angry face when she’s mad,’ and like… he’s totally into you.”

Your stomach twisted—but your face didn’t budge.

“Cool,” you muttered. “Love being a conversation topic.”

“He thinks you’re amazing,” the guy said, nodding like he just solved world peace. “Hey—have you ever considered going bald?”

You stared. “Excuse me?”

He squinted. “I bet you’d look hot with a buzzcut. You have a strong jaw. That’s what matters, right?”

And maybe it was the alcohol. Or the smoke in the air. Or the ache in your ribs.

But you laughed. Loud. Too loud. And you grabbed his wrist.

“Got scissors?” you asked.

He blinked. “Uh. Yeah?”

“Bring them. Let’s find out.”

He stumbled into the kitchen drawer and came back, holding up a dull pair of kitchen scissors like a prize.

You snatched them, raised them in the air. “Thank you, brave soldier,” you said dramatically. “Now go lay down before you die of alcohol poisoning.”

And you turned, marching up the stairs like a woman with a mission and a pair of scissors she had no business holding.

Jake was mid-conversation when Jungwon ran up, breathless.

“Dude. DUDE. Your girl—she just went upstairs. With scissors. Talking about rebirth.”

Jake blinked. “What?”

“She said something about French bangs and reinvention and then took the stairs like a goddamn hurricane.”

Jake didn’t even think.

He ran.

Bolted through the crowd, shouldered past two people doing body shots, and took the stairs two at a time.

Because he knew you.

He knew that look. That chaos. That split-second decision to feel anything other than the helpless, boiling anger clawing through your chest.

He remembered it from middle school, when someone said your braces made you look like a robot and you tried to cut them out yourself with nail clippers. He remembered it last year, when your cat died and you bleached your bangs at 3AM.

Jake had always known your brand of chaos.

And he had always shown up before it got too far.

Now, he shoved open the bathroom door with zero hesitation.

“Don’t—”

The words died in his throat.

Because there you were.

Standing in the middle of someone else’s bathroom, scissors in hand, eyes glassy and smile way too proud.

“Jakey!” you beamed. “I did it!”

He froze.

There was a pile of hair on the counter. Your bangs—if you could call them that—sat uneven across your forehead. One was short. The other… shorter.

One eye was half covered. The other? Wide, glassy, wild.

Jake covered his mouth with both hands.

“Princess,” he whispered.

“Do I look like Tyra Banks?” you asked earnestly.

Jake blinked. Took a step forward. Then another.

And slowly—so gently—took the scissors from your hand.

His voice dropped to a hush. Steady. Calm. Familiar.

“Hey,” he said. “Let’s put these down, yeah?”

You pouted. “But I wasn’t done.”

He gave you a small smile. “You were perfect before you even started.”

Your lips parted.

His eyes searched yours, scanning every flicker of emotion you were trying to bury beneath alcohol and eyeliner and rebellion.

“You don’t need to do this,” he said. “You’re angry. I get it. I swear I get it. But cutting your bangs at a frat party is not justice.”

You blinked. The world tilted slightly.

“He moved on,” you whispered. “Like I was nothing. Like I was just a placeholder.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. His grip on the scissors hardened.

“You were never a placeholder,” he said, voice sharper now. “You were the whole damn story. He was just a footnote.”

Your eyes welled, but no tears fell. Not yet.

“You’re angry. And you have every right to be,” he said, stepping closer, his hand brushing your cheek. “But don’t punish yourself because he couldn’t see your worth.”

Your lip trembled.

“You think I’m punishing myself?” you asked.

Jake smiled softly. “Princess, look at your bangs.”

You let out a snort. A real one. Ugly and sharp and full of sudden breath.

“I look like an art student who lost a bet.”

Jake laughed. “You look like you could start a girl gang and lead a revolution.”

His voice dropped again. Gentle. Unshakable.

“But you still look like you. And you look perfect.”

You didn’t know what possessed you, but your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Like holding onto something solid in the middle of a storm.

Jake leaned down, resting his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to set yourself on fire to prove you're still burning,” he whispered. “You’re enough. Even when you’re mad. Even when you're messy. Even with gravity-defying bangs.”

Your breath hitched. The room stilled.

And finally, finally, your heart began to slow.

You closed your eyes.

And Jake just held you there.

Right in the middle of the chaos, in someone else's bathroom, with scissors on the counter and party noise below—

He held you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like he’d always been the one who would.

—

The next morning came quicker than you wanted. Your head throbbed, your mouth tasted like the inside of a frat house, and your body ached in weird places. But none of that mattered.

Because the second you looked in the mirror— “AAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The scream tore through the apartment like a war siren.

Sunghoon shot upright in bed, blanket wrapped around his legs like a noose. “WHAT THE—?!”

Jake fell off the couch with a dramatic thud, landing in a heap of hoodie and boxers. “SHE’S DYING, SHE’S BEING KIDNAPPED, THE LOVE OF—”

Both boys sprinted down the hallway like the apartment was on fire.

They crashed into your room, out of breath, expecting blood or a ghost or at least an explosion.

Instead, they found you standing in front of the mirror, gripping your bangs in both hands like you could physically undo last night.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” you wailed, your voice cracking halfway into a sob. “WHY DIDN’T ANYONE STOP ME?!”

Jake froze.

Sunghoon stared.

“I told you we should’ve hidden the mirror,” Sunghoon muttered.

“We have a bathroom,” Jake hissed back.

You whirled around dramatically, face streaked with tears, eyes wide and watery, holding up a sad tuft of hair like it was a smoking gun.

“I ruined my life!”

Jake opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Because, truthfully?

Your hair looked like it had been through a war. A bad one. Like a rodent got stuck halfway through building a nest and gave up. It was uneven in four different directions. The bangs… bent at angles. You defied geometry. Possibly physics.

Sure, you looked pretty. Beautiful. Perfect, even.

But that was only because Jake was in love with you.

And love had a way of turning disaster into art. Even when the art looked like a sewer rat.

Sunghoon sighed and rubbed his face. “I’ll make pancakes.”

He turned and walked out without waiting for a response. Pancakes were your household’s official emergency protocol.

Jake stayed. Still in the doorway. Still barefoot and half-asleep, but trying really hard not to laugh and even harder not to love you more for looking like this and still somehow being the most you he’d ever seen.

You looked up at him with trembling lips, eyes full of absolute heartbreak.

“I look like I lost a fight with a Edward Scissorhands.”

Jake blinked. “C’mere.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You launched yourself at him like a flying koala, knocking him flat on his back. You landed in a tangled heap of limbs and cotton and regret, curled into his chest, face shoved against his hoodie.

“I’M UGLY!” you wailed.

Jake didn’t even flinch. He wrapped his arms around you, full-on bear-hug style, holding you like he was trying to glue your shattered pieces back together.

“No, you’re not,” he murmured.

You let out a sound that was half sob, half snort, and buried your face deeper into his chest.

“You’re not ugly,” he said again, voice quieter now. “You’re the cutest person I’ve ever seen with a rat’s nest on their forehead.”

You groaned. “I look like Coconut Head from Ned’s Declassified.”

Jake snorted. Actually snorted.

Which made you groan even louder and smack his chest half-heartedly.

“I’m never going outside again,” you mumbled.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “We’ll start a new civilization here. No mirrors. Unlimited pancakes. Sunghoon and I will scavenge for food outside, bring it back here to feed you and our rat children.”

You sniffed.

“I’ll knit you a beanie,” he added. “It’ll say ‘emotional damage’ in rhinestones.”

From the kitchen, Sunghoon shouted, “There’s only enough chocolate chips for one stack, so I’m taking nominations for who’s had the most public breakdowns in the past 24 hours.”

“I CUT MY OWN BANGS AT A FRAT PARTY!” you yelled into Jake’s hoodie.

“And we have our winner!” Sunghoon replied.

Jake chuckled beneath you, brushing a strand of hair gently out of your eyes—or at least tried to. One strand was… vertical.

You blinked up at him. “I want them gone.”

Jake smoothed his hand through the top of your hair. “Let me try to fix them?”

You squinted. “Can you?”

“No,” he admitted. “But if I mess it up, you’ll get to yell at me instead of yourself.”

You stared at him.

He gave you that stupid little grin—warm, patient, already yours.

You sighed. “Deal.”

Jake grinned wider, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “Okay. Let me grab scissors, YouTube, and a whole lot of…uh…prayer.”

You smiled, soft and reluctant. But real.

Because even with tragic bangs, a hangover, and your dignity in shambles—

Jake made it all feel survivable.

Maybe even a little bit okay.

You were still in Jake’s lap, curled up like a broken barbie from a 6 year old with plastic scissors, when he sat up slowly, fingers brushing back your hair with more care than you thought anyone could ever use on someone so messily undone.

“Alright,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Let’s fix this rat’s nest.”

You sniffled, eyes puffy. “You mean my hair?”

Jake’s lips quirked. “Same thing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Say one more dumb thing and I’ll cry again.”

He grinned and stood, effortlessly lifting you into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Jake—” you squeaked, clinging to him. “What are you doing?!”

“You’ve clearly lost your decision-making privileges. You’re emotionally unstable. And you keep sniffling like a baby bird,” he said matter-of-factly. “So, I’m airlifting you to your redemption arc.”

You buried your face into his hoodie. “You smell like detergent and protectiveness.”

“You smell like tequila and impulsive choices.”

He walked you into the bathroom and set you carefully onto the counter, warm hands steady at your waist as you adjusted your balance. The moment you were settled, he stepped between your knees without hesitation, reaching for the comb and scissors.

You blinked. Suddenly, the bathroom was a little too quiet. A little too warm. And Jake was a little too close.

“I’m gonna try to even these out,” he murmured, running his fingers gently through your bangs. “Try being the keyword.”

“I feel like this is where I die.”

“You look like a girl on the brink of a villain origin story.”

“Perfect,” you muttered. “Make me look dangerous.”\

As you sat still on the bathroom counter, knees lightly brushing his chest. Jake picked up the scissors again, his brows drawn tight in concentration.

He was taking it seriously. Too seriously. His tongue peeked out just slightly as he combed a section of your hair, eyes sharp, focused like he was performing life-saving surgery instead of fixing your tequila-fueled haircut.

You smiled—couldn’t help it. Because how was he still so cute, even now? Even while fixing the disaster you made of your bangs, looking like an overworked stylist with something to prove.

He tilted his head, snipped gently. Paused. Tilted again.

“Stop smiling,” he muttered, eyes still fixed on your hair.

“I’m not,” you said, definitely smiling.

“I can feel it.”

You laughed softly. “You’re just cute when you’re stressed.”

That made his hands falter. Just a little.

But he didn’t say anything. Just cleared his throat and kept going, slower now—more careful. Like he was stalling. Or maybe... savoring.

Jake leaned in just a little, brow furrowed in quiet concentration. “Hold still,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked. “What—”

“There’s a bit of hair on your face,” he murmured.

His hand came up gently, fingers brushing the side of your cheek as he tried to sweep away the tiny, stubborn strand that had clung to your skin. You froze.

Because Jake—without even thinking—tilted your chin up with one hand, and with the other, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered against your jaw, fingers grazing your cheek, and then staying there.

You froze.

Jake didn’t move either.

His hand remained cupped on your face. His thumb brushed your skin. And his eyes—God, his eyes were locked on yours like they were holding something he hadn’t meant to let show.

You could feel the shift in the air. Heavy. Quiet. Like the entire world was holding its breath, waiting.

His gaze flicked to your lips. Just for a second.

And then it flicked back.

But it was enough.

Your heart stuttered. Your knees curled inward, brushing his hips. He leaned in—slowly, almost unconsciously. You could feel his breath now. Feel the tension between you, burning like something fragile and explosive all at once.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

It was so close. One more inch. Half an inch. Less than that.

You could see the way his lashes fluttered when he blinked. The way his jaw clenched like he was holding something back.

His forehead almost touched yours.

And just when you thought he might do it—just when your lips parted like they were waiting—

“GET YOUR DAMN PANCAKES!” Sunghoon’s voice echoed through the apartment like an accidental earthquake.

You jolted.

Jake stepped back too fast, hands dropping like they’d been burned.

You blinked hard, your pulse pounding.

“Right,” you said, hopping off the counter like it wasn’t shaking beneath you. “Breakfast.”

“Let’s go,” Jake said, voice too casual, too quick.

Neither of you looked at each other as you walked out of the bathroom.

But your fingers were still tingling.

And Jake’s heart was still lodged somewhere in his throat.—

The three of you were seated around the kitchen table. You sat across from Jake. The air smelled like sugar, butter, and unbearable tension.

Normally by now, you and Jake would’ve been locked in a battle of sarcastic wits, tag-teaming insults about Sunghoon’s tragic playlists or the sociopathic way he peeled his oranges.

But this morning?

Silence.

Sunghoon was the only one talking.

And he noticed.

“…So I told her, yes, I do moisturize, actually, and no, you can’t just borrow my $60 toner like it’s a sample at Sephora,” he said, pausing only to cut a triangle of pancake. “Anyway. These are the fluffiest pancakes I’ve ever made. Probably because I put love into them and not repressed rage, for once.”

You nodded absently. Jake let out a weird little hum like he was underwater.

Sunghoon squinted at you both.

He continued, tone flattening: “Also, I’m quitting college to become a juice bar cult leader. I’ll sell turmeric shots and emotional detachment.”

Sunghoon blinked slowly.

“…Hello?”

Silence.

He dropped his fork dramatically. “Okay. What is going on?!”

You and Jake looked up at the same time, startled like toddlers caught stealing cookies.

“You’re both being weird,” Sunghoon said, stabbing his fork in the air like a courtroom prosecutor. “Aren’t you usually bickering by now? Or pelting me with toast? Or roasting my skincare routine?”

You blinked. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Jake coughed. “Totally fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Sunghoon snapped. “You’re sitting there like someone died. Did the bang trauma finally kill your friendship? Was it the haircut? Did a ghost tell you to never speak again?”

Sunghoon turned to Jake. “And you. You haven’t insulted me once. Not even when I said I wanted to start a juice cult.”

Jake shoved pancake in his mouth. “I support your passions.”

Sunghoon froze.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “Who are you two?!”

You and Jake exchanged a glance.

Sunghoon’s jaw dropped. “No. No. No—”

“What?” you said too quickly.

Jake sipped his coffee like it was spiked with sedatives.

Sunghoon pointed at both of you. “Something happened. I don’t know what. But if this is about some repressed ‘we accidentally almost kissed while trimming tragic bangs’ situation, I swear to god I will scream.”

You choked on your juice.

Jake muttered, “N–nothing happened.”

Sunghoon leaned back, crossing his arms like a dad about to issue consequences.

“Right,” he said. “And I’m emotionally stable.”

He stood suddenly and grabbed his coat off the hook by the door.

You looked up. “Where are you going?”

Jake jolted upright. “Wait—wait. What? Where ya goin’, man?” His voice cracked slightly.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink. “Out.”

Jake laughed nervously. “Nooo, don’t go. We’re having a good time. Bonding. Pancakes. Healing.”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile that definitely wasn’t panicked. “Stay. We can watch something. I won’t even make fun of you for picking a romcom from the 60s.”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes.

“…You two are being so weird right now.”

Jake blinked. “What? No.”

“Totally normal,” you said simultaneously.

The tension between you and Jake buzzed like a power line. Sunghoon stared. You and Jake sat a full cushion apart on the couch, but somehow it felt like you were breathing the same air.

After a pause, Sunghoon grabbed the doorknob.

“I’m gonna get some more eggs, we ran out of them.” he muttered, and slammed the door behind him.

Silence.

One beat.

Two.

Then you and Jake both shot up and retreated to your rooms at the exact same time, slamming your doors like a choreographed sitcom exit.

You paced around your room.

Back and forth. Arms crossed. Hair bouncing (the parts you hadn’t murdered). You could still feel the ghost of Jake’s hand on your jaw.

Yes. Okay. Sure. You almost kissed him in the bathroom. But let’s review.

You were vulnerable.

You just got dumped.

Your bangs looked like they were cut by a raccoon with ADHD.

It meant nothing.

…Right?

You stopped and groaned into your hands. “It was the vulnerability. I was emotionally compromised and Jake’s dumb face got too close.”

You paused.

“…Jake’s dumb, pretty face…”

—

Late in the afternoon, you wandered into the kitchen with a bowl of greens and the vague desire to do something normal. Something quiet. Something safe. Your fingers moved on autopilot as you chopped vegetables—lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers—something about the rhythm calming the noise in your head.

Until you heard it.

The shuffle of feet down the hallway. That familiar cadence. Soft, unhurried. Jake Sim.

You paused mid-slice.

Jake walked in a second later, completely unaware you were already there—ramen in one hand, phone in the other, texting with his usual boyish ease. The hoodie he wore was slightly rumpled. His hair still damp from a shower. He looked so effortlessly himself it made your chest ache.

He looked up.

And froze.

Your eyes met for one long, breathless second. Too long. Too much.

Then he spun around so fast he nearly dropped the ramen.

He stood in the doorway, awkwardly half-turned, clearly debating whether bolting would make things better or worse. The silence was loud.

After a beat, he cleared his throat and forced himself to turn back.

“Cool,” he said, voice pitched an octave too high. “Great. Dinner.”

He grabbed a pot from the cabinet like it was a lifeline. Filled it at the sink with determined focus, pretending not to glance at you from the corner of his eye.

You turned back to your chopping. Tried to focus.

But the air in the kitchen had shifted—thicker now. Heavier. Like all that nearly-spilled affection from the bathroom was still clinging to your sleeves.

You could feel him next to you. Could sense every inch of space he left between you. Could feel every inch he didn’t.

Then you both reached for the stove.

At the same time.

Your fingers brushed.

You both flinched.

“Sorry—” you mumbled.

“No—you—uh—go ahead—” he said quickly.

It should’ve been fine. It was a stove. It was cooking.

But it wasn’t.

Now you were standing shoulder to shoulder, the side of his arm barely grazing yours every few seconds, and it was like touching static. Every brush sent sparks to your spine.

His noodles boiled. Your chicken sizzled.

And still, neither of you moved.

Jake kept stealing glances—tiny, fleeting ones, like he couldn’t help it. Like he needed to make sure you were real. You weren’t looking at him, but you felt him looking. You felt it like a pulse.

Your heart wouldn’t stop tripping over itself.

This is nothing, you told yourself. It’s proximity. It’s leftover tension. You’re vulnerable, fresh off a breakup. You’re not—

You reached for the pan.

Too close.

Your fingers hit the hot edge. Hard.

“Shit—ow!” you gasped, jerking your hand back.

Jake turned like he’d been shot.

“What happened?!” His voice was sharp with panic as he lunged toward you. “Are you okay?!”

“I just—I touched the—” Your words tumbled over each other as you blinked at your hand, already stinging and red, the skin rising into a welt.

Jake didn’t hesitate.

He grabbed your wrist with both hands—gentle but urgent—and rushed you to the sink, flipping the faucet with his elbow. The cold water hit the burn and made you wince.

But you barely felt it.

Because all you could feel was Jake’s hands wrapped around yours. His thumb against your pulse. His breath too close. His panic louder than yours.

“You okay?” he asked again, eyes never leaving the burn. “Can you feel this? Are you dizzy? Why aren’t you saying anything—why are you—”

He stopped.

Because you were smiling.

Barely. Just the smallest curl at the corners of your mouth.

But it was there.

And so was he. Right there in front of you, looking like he was breaking apart from how badly he wanted to keep you safe. Like your pain physically hurt him.

No one had ever looked at you like that before.

And suddenly, everything shifted.

Because in that moment—burning finger, cold water, trembling hands—you knew.

You were falling for Jake.

And maybe you had been for a while.

The realization made your chest tighten. Made your throat close. You looked at him and your heart skipped like it knew this moment mattered.

Jake helped you sit on the counter, still holding your hand like it might disappear. He moved carefully—so carefully—as he opened the first aid kit, his lips pressed together in a worried line.

He dabbed ointment on the burn with a lightness that made your chest ache. His brows furrowed as he wrapped the bandage, his thumb stroking the back of your hand like a whisper.

“You never pay attention,” he muttered, voice tight with concern. “Always spacing out. Always in your head. It’s like you want me to have a heart attack.”

“You make me worry so much it’s insane,” he whispered. Like he hadn’t meant to say it. Like it spilled out before he could catch it.

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Not when your pulse was roaring in your ears and his touch made you feel like you might float out of your body.

Then you heard it—quiet, almost to himself.

“God, you’re the only person in the world who makes me feel like this.”

“Like what?” You mumbled.

“Like I’m going fucking insane.”

Jake’s eyes widened a second too late. Like he’d only just realized he said it out loud.

You stared at him.

“…Say that again,” you whispered.

“I didn’t—” he started, panicking. “I didn’t mean—”

You slid off the counter slowly. Your hand still throbbed—but your heart was louder. Too loud.

You looked at him. And in his eyes, you saw everything.

The longing. The panic. The thousand things he wasn’t saying.

And then—

“If you’re gonna keep having slow-burn movie moments in the kitchen, at least don’t do it in the kitchen.”

You both jumped.

Sunghoon stood in the doorway, a grocery bag in one hand and a carton of eggs in the other. His eyebrows were already in judgmental orbit.

Jake stammered, “We weren’t—!”

“You were,” Sunghoon said, breezing past. “You were doing the eye thing.”

“What eye thing?” you asked, flustered.

“The longing one. With the breathing and the tragic backlighting. The tragic yearning...it’s disgusting.”

—

The BBQ joint was already full when you walked in—heat rising from tabletop grills, laughter spilling over like steam, the air thick with the smell of sizzling meat and farewell speeches. You stood at the entrance for a second, bag slung over your shoulder, your heart thudding a little faster than necessary.

You weren’t even sure why you’d come.

Sunghoon had bailed last minute, claiming a “group project emergency,” and you could’ve easily ghosted too. But something had pulled you here—maybe the closure, maybe the company, maybe the quiet, ridiculous hope that things might feel normal again. That you might feel normal again.

Your eyes swept the room, searching for a familiar face.

And there he was.

Jake, halfway across the restaurant, hunched slightly in his chair as he laughed at something someone said. His hair was a little messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His denim jacket hung on the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up as he reached for the grill tongs, utterly unaware that he’d just knocked the breath out of you.

You took a step forward. Small. Tentative. A part of you hoping—aching—that maybe he’d seen you already. He saved you a seat.

But then you froze.

Because a girl slid into the chair beside him.

She was pretty. Confident. One of those girls who didn’t need to try to draw attention. She leaned in with ease, like they already knew each other. She laughed, tossed her hair, said something that made Jake glance over and smile—polite, soft.

Not your smile.

Your feet stayed planted. Your throat tightened, jealousy wrapping around your chest like a rope. You didn’t want to feel it. You didn’t even know what it meant. But there it was.

That empty chair had never not been yours before.

And now, suddenly, it wasn’t.

You blinked hard and turned on your heel, moving so fast it felt like fleeing. You didn’t care where you sat—anywhere but there. Anywhere but near him and her.

Jay looked up from his grill station just in time to see you drop into the seat next to him with the force of someone trying to bury a feeling. His eyebrows lifted, chopsticks paused mid-turn.

“Woah,” he said, startled. “Dramatic entrance. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile that didn’t quite make it past your cheeks. “Peachy.”

Jay looked unconvinced.

You stared hard at the sizzling grill in front of you. The sound of meat crackling felt louder than the conversations around you. Too loud. Too sharp. But not sharp enough to cut through the coil of emotion in your chest.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Jake glance your way. Brief, unsure. You didn’t look back.

Instead, you reached for a piece of lettuce like it wronged you in a past life and stabbed your chopsticks through it.

Jay watched you for a moment, then cautiously leaned in. “Sooo... wanna tell me why you look like you’re about to wrestle that cabbage?”

You didn’t answer.

Because on the other side of the table, Jake was laughing again. Soft. Casual. Like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t been on the verge of kissing you in a bathroom two weeks ago. Like he didn’t used to look at you first when he walked into a room.

But today, he didn’t.

He looked at her.

Something sharp twisted in your gut. Something bitter.

Jealousy, maybe. Or disappointment.

Not that he was talking to someone else.

But that he let her sit there. That he gave away your spot like it never mattered.

Your jaw clenched. You shoved the lettuce into your mouth like it was responsible for your emotional spiral.

Jay winced in sympathy. “So… no comment?”

“None.”

“Cool, cool. I’ll just assume you’re possessed and move on.”

He turned back to the grill, wisely choosing not to push further. You didn’t notice, but your shoulders stayed tense. You didn’t speak. You didn’t breathe right. Your fingers picked apart a piece of grilled pork until it was unrecognizable.

Across the table, Jungwon raised his voice.

“Hey! Let’s talk about the class’s power couple!”

You looked up mid-chew. Wrong move.

“Jake and her, obviously!” he said, pointing at you both with a grin like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You nearly choked on your lettuce. “Yang Jungwon, I will throw this piece of meat in your face if you don’t–”

Jay coughed into his drink. “Here we go.”

Jungwon beamed. “What? You’re always together. It’s, like, a known thing.”

Someone else piped in. “It’s true. Jake’s always doing the sweetest things for her. Didn’t he bring you bubble tea for a whole week when you got your wisdom teeth out?”

“And didn’t he carry your whole bag once when your wrist hurt?”

“And hold your umbrella even though he was getting soaked?” Everyone at the table nodded, laughing. Agreeing. Smiling at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You flushed.

Jake stayed quiet.

Still across the table.

Still next to her.

And still not looking at you.

The realization hit slow and hard—like a wave you’d tried to outrun finally catching your heels.

Everyone saw it.

Everyone had always seen it.

Except you.

Until now.

Your throat felt dry. Your chest felt hollow. And your skewer? Obliterated. You stabbed through the last piece of beef with more aggression than necessary.

Jay leaned over and whispered, “You’re gonna set off the smoke alarm if you keep grilling that poor meat.”

You didn’t respond.

Because the chair he used to save for you wasn’t yours anymore.

And for the first time—you realized how much that seat had mattered.

You didn’t even realize how tightly your hands were gripping your chopsticks until your knuckles turned white. Your jaw ached from how long you’d been clenching it. Everyone at the table laughed at something you didn’t hear, and it felt like you were underwater—sound muffled, air thick, eyes locked on your untouched plate.

You hadn’t meant to care so much.

It was just a chair.

Just a seat at a dinner party.

But it was your seat. The one he always saved without asking. The one he used to pat with a grin like, "Reserved for royalty." The one where your jacket used to end up without thinking, your chopsticks already unwrapped by the time you sat down.

So seeing someone else sitting there—smiling like she belonged there—felt like stepping into a memory and realizing it didn’t remember you back.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

You weren’t together. Not really. Not even close.

But god, that seat had never been up for grabs before.

You slid into the open spot across the table like it didn’t burn, even though every movement felt like betrayal. Like you were betraying yourself by still hoping for something you couldn’t even name.

And then, he tapped your shoulder.

You stiffened immediately, already knowing it was him.

Jake.

The very air changed when he was around. Lighter, tighter, like it had more weight and less oxygen at the same time.

“Hey,” he said, voice easy. Too easy.

You didn’t look at him.

Tap.

“Princess.”

You froze.

Your throat tightened.

Because Princess used to be the softest thing in the world. A tease. A comfort. A reminder that he knew you, saw you, adored you in all the quiet ways he never said aloud.

But now?

It felt… different. Tainted.

It didn’t land the same when your chair was already taken. When he’d let someone else into the only space you thought was sacred.

So you didn’t turn.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t soften.

He hesitated—like he felt the shift, too.

“Hmph,” you crossed your arms like a child.

Jake’s voice dropped, lower this time. “Why are you mad at me?”

You still didn’t answer.

He let out a slow breath and walked around the table instead, crouching beside your chair like a boy trying to pick up something broken.

Your gaze stayed glued to your half-torn napkin.

“Is it… about the seat?” he asked, voice gentler now. Like maybe he already knew the answer. Like he knew exactly what that seat meant.

Your silence answered for you.

Jake swallowed hard.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he murmured. “She sat down before I even before I realized you were coming. I swear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“To what?” you cut in, quiet but sharp. “Replace me?”

Jake flinched.

You regretted it instantly. But not enough to take it back.

Because that seat—that tiny, stupid thing—meant something. And tonight, he let someone else take it like it didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking just a little. “I should’ve waited for you. I should’ve saved it.”

Your hands tightened in your lap. “Forget it.”

“Princess,” he said again, softer now. Pleading. Like maybe if he said it right, it would mean the same thing it used to.

But it didn’t.

Not tonight.

You looked up, finally meeting his eyes.

And he looked wrecked. Not in the dramatic, cinematic way. Just quietly ruined. Like he hadn’t realized how deep this cut would go. Like he was only just now understanding what he’d done.

You turned away before it could get worse.

Before your face could say too much.

Jake didn’t move.

Didn’t say another word.

Just sat there beside you like he would’ve done anything to rewind the night and start over.

But some things you couldn’t undo.

You were chewing in silence, half your brain stuck in a loop of spiraling thoughts and the other half… fully aware of Jake beside you. The way he kept glancing at you every few seconds. The way his leg bounced under the table like he had something to say but didn’t know how to say it.

You shifted in your seat.

He didn’t look at you, but he nudged your knee gently with his.

Then came his voice—soft, tentative, like he was knocking on a door he wasn’t sure he was allowed to open.

“I still owe you a prize.”

Your head turned.

Jake was already half smiling. That crooked, boyish smile that always cracked something open in your chest.

You blinked. “…What?”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“…Two,” you whispered.

Jake turned, hand still hidden behind his back—and slowly revealed two fingers.

Your breath hitched. Just barely.

He smiled wider now, eyes lighting up like he’d been holding that hope in all night.

“Correct,” he said gently. “Which means…”

Jake stood up suddenly, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Wait here.”

You blinked again. “What? Where are you going—?”

He was already walking off, dodging servers and plates of steaming food. He made a beeline toward the front of the restaurant where the owner stood at the counter, scribbling on receipts.

From your seat, you watched him gesture animatedly. He pointed to a pen. Then to a napkin. The owner blinked, clearly confused, but handed him a small notepad and a black pen.

You watched Jake furrow his brows, crouching at a little side table and scribbling furiously, tongue poking out slightly as he focused. His shoulders hunched like he was working on something important.

He returned a minute later, cheeks flushed with effort, pen still tucked behind his ear like an afterthought.

Without saying a word, he slid the paper toward you.

“Your prize,” he said, not quite meeting your eyes.

You looked down.

It was a drawing.

A bad drawing.

Stick figures, crooked lines, and a questionable attempt at your haircut—short, jagged bangs that stuck out at odd angles, cartoonishly captured in the most chaotic way possible. You almost laughed.

But then your eyes caught the words scribbled underneath:

‘Even with that haircut, you’re still the prettiest girl in the world.’

Your breath hitched.

You looked up.

Jake was pretending to sip water, very invested in the contents of his cup.

Your fingers tightened around the edges of the paper.

“…You’re such an idiot,” you whispered.

His gaze finally flicked to yours.

And even in the low lighting of the restaurant, you saw it.

The softness.

The hope.

The fear.

Like he didn’t know how you’d take it—but he meant every word anyway.

Your throat was suddenly too tight.

You didn’t say anything else.

You didn’t have to.

Because you were still holding the drawing.

—

You slipped your bag over your shoulder, the strap digging slightly into your coat as you muttered a quick goodbye to Jay and Jungwon. They teased you on the way out—of course they did.

The air outside hit your face like a wall. Sharp. Cold. Honest.

You exhaled, breath clouding in the dark. The city lights blurred into little golden halos around you as you wrapped your scarf with clumsy fingers, your hands still shaky from the night. From everything.

And then—

“Wait—hey!”

You turned.

Jake.

He was jogging after you, his jacket flapping open behind him, cheeks flushed red from the heat inside meeting the cold outside. His hair was a little windblown. His eyes found yours like they always did—easily, like home.

You blinked, lips parting. “What are you—”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” he asked, breath puffing in the cold. He slowed beside you, steps syncing with yours before you even answered.

You paused, your fingers still tangled in your scarf.

“…Weren’t you still talking to her?” you asked softly. Softer than you meant to. Your voice barely carried.

The silence stretched between you.

Then, wordlessly, Jake reached for your scarf.

You froze.

“Here,” he murmured, fingers brushing yours. “You always do it too tight.”

He didn’t wait for permission. His hands moved gently, expertly—unraveling the mess you’d twisted, smoothing the soft fabric like he’d done it a hundred times. Like muscle memory.

His knuckles grazed your jaw as he tucked the ends in.

You held your breath.

And when you finally looked up, he was already watching you.

You, wrapped in the coat he gave you. In the scarf he’d fixed. In the silence he hadn’t tried to fill with anything other than quiet care.

“I’d rather be walking us home,” Jake said gently. Not a question. Not even a request.

And still—you let him.

The two of you walked slowly, the glow of streetlamps casting long shadows across the pavement.

Jake was rambling beside you—something about Jungwon’s tragic karaoke and lettuce on a grill—but your mind was somewhere else entirely.

It was on him.

It was on every version of him.

On all the times he showed up when he didn’t have to. On all the gentle, quiet ways he loved you without asking for anything back.

On the umbrella he always tilted toward you.

On the bubble teas and playlists and dumb printed emoji sheets.

It hit you so hard you physically stopped walking.

Jake didn’t notice until he took two more steps and realized your footsteps had vanished.

“—and I swear, if he ever touches a mic again—wait, hey, you okay?”

He turned around.

You stood there, frozen in place, eyes wide and glassy like you were realizing something you couldn’t un-realize.

Jake’s face shifted instantly.

“W-What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping forward, concern flashing across his face. “Did I say something? Are you—”

You didn’t answer.

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him—just like that. No hesitation.

You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, arms looping around his back like you needed to hold something steady. Like he was the only thing steady enough to hold.

Jake stilled.

Completely.

And then his arms came around you.

Slow. Firm. Certain.

You felt his hand press gently into your back, the other cupping the back of your neck like he was trying to piece you back together with touch alone.

Your voice cracked when it came out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His breath hitched. “Tell you what?”

“That you’ve been in love with me.”

Silence.

Jake went still again. His hand flexed slightly against your back.

You pulled back just enough to see him—your hands still clutching his coat, his eyes wide, mouth parted, heart in his throat.

“That would’ve made everything so much simpler,” you said, voice trembling. “Maybe I wouldn’t have dated that idiot. Maybe I would’ve chosen you. A long time ago.”

Jake looked stunned. His lips parted like he wanted to say something—but you didn’t let him.

“I thought you were just being nice,” you whispered. “I thought… you saw me, maybe, like a sister. I didn’t know…you–”

His brows drew together. Something deep and aching passed across his face.

“I’m sorry,” you went on. “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it. You’ve always been there. Always. And I never looked at you the way I should’ve. Not until it was too late.”

Jake stared at you like you’d just knocked the air out of him.

And then.

He cupped your jaw with both hands.

Thumbs brushing the apples of your cheeks. Fingers resting gently, reverently, like you were porcelain. His eyes were locked on yours, searching. Burning.

And then he leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t tentative.

It was everything he’d held in.

Years of friendship, of quiet pining, of every moment he almost let it slip and didn’t—it all spilled into that one kiss.

His lips found yours with a kind of desperate relief. Like coming home. Like breathing after drowning. Like maybe, finally, he didn’t have to hold it back anymore.

Your hands curled into the front of his coat. You tilted up into him, breath catching as he deepened the kiss—his hands sliding into your hair, one curling at the nape of your neck, the other still cupping your jaw like he couldn’t bear to let go.

His lips moved, with tenderness, with the kind of aching care that made your knees weak and your chest full to bursting.

When he finally pulled back—just barely—you were both breathless.

Your noses brushed.

His hands didn’t move.

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes still closed, as if he couldn’t look at you and survive it.

“You didn’t have to see it back then,” he whispered. “I loved you anyway. I always have.”

You closed your eyes.

And kissed him again.

Because you didn’t need to say it yet.

You were already saying it in every breath.

And Jake?

Jake held you like he’d waited his whole life to because well…he did.

Because maybe you hadn’t fallen first.

But you were falling harder now.

You barely made it halfway down the street before you stopped again—just to kiss him.

It started soft.

His hand found your jaw, thumb brushing lightly beneath your cheekbone as your lips pressed to his, slow and testing, like you were still trying to figure out how this all worked now. How it was real. His nose brushed yours. Your fingers curled in the collar of his coat, tugging him just a little closer.

You took three steps.

Then stopped again.

This time his hands slipped lower—one landing on your hip, the other skimming the small of your back as he leaned in again, mouth warm and insistent. His kiss deepened, lips parting against yours, breath catching in his throat as your fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged, just a little.

“Jake,” you mumbled against his mouth, your nose nudging his cheek, “we’re literally in public.”

He didn’t move away.

Just smiled against your lips. “Not my fault you’re addictive.”

You rolled your eyes.

And then kissed him again.

Longer. Slower. Your body pressed into his chest as his arm wrapped firmly around your waist. He tasted like cinnamon gum and the cold air between you. His teeth grazed your bottom lip before his lips found yours again, open and hungry now.

By the time you reached your building, the two of you were fully drunk on it—on each other.

He had you backed up gently against the brick wall by your door, your back hitting it with a soft thud. His hands braced either side of your head. Yours slid down his chest, fingers dragging across the buttons of his jacket before slipping underneath and fisting in his hoodie.

His forehead rested against yours, your noses brushing.

“I can't believe I get to do this now,” Jake whispered, breathless, lips still ghosting over yours. “Like this. With you.”

You smiled, whispering back against his mouth, “I should’ve kissed you years ago.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his mouth dipping lower, kissing along your jaw before finding your lips again. “But then I wouldn’t have gotten to fall in love with you like this.”

Your arms curled around his neck. You were just about to pull him back in when—

“OH MY GOD. MY EYES!”

You both jerked away.

Jake turned first, one hand still protectively on your waist. You peeked around his shoulder, blinking through the haze of hormones and heat.

Sunghoon.

Standing frozen a few feet away, grocery bag in hand, jaw dropped so hard it could’ve cracked the sidewalk.

“SERIOUSLY?!” he shouted, voice breaking with disbelief. “MY ONE NIGHT OUT?! THIS IS WHAT I COME HOME TO? TONGUE WRESTLING? ON THE DOORSTEP?”

You immediately hid your face in Jake’s shoulder, laughing so hard you nearly collapsed.

Jake just grinned. “You’re just jealous you’re bitter, old, and single.”

“I LIVE HERE, YOU FERAL ANIMALS.”

You peeked up, cheeks burning, still giggling like a teenager. Jake reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers like he’d been doing it forever. His thumb traced slow circles on your skin.

Jake giggled, stepped in, slow and sure, until there was barely an inch between you. His hand let go of yours only to slide around your waist, pulling you in until your chest brushed his. His other hand found your jaw again, thumb grazing your cheekbone.

And then he kissed you. Again. Harder this time.

Behind you, Sunghoon made an actual gagging noise. “CUT IT OUT! This is why I prayed for your downfall, Jake.”

Jake just tugged you toward the elevator, still holding your hand.

—-

You barely made it into the apartment before Sunghoon yelled from his bedroom, voice muffled through the door:

“I’M NEVER WASHING YOUR LAUNDRY AGAIN.”

You and Jake burst into laughter, tripping over each other as you kicked off your shoes, still tangled in giggles and flushed skin and stolen kisses.

Jake followed you straight to your room, still holding your hand like it was his favorite thing in the world. His other hand? Firm on your waist. His mouth? Absolutely relentless.

The second the door clicked shut, he was on you again—his lips warm and insistent against your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. He kissed you like he couldn’t stop, like he didn’t want to stop, like he was mapping every inch of you with his mouth.

You laughed breathlessly, leaning back against the wall as his hands framed your face and his mouth finally, finally met yours again—deeper this time, slower but more demanding, like he was memorizing you.

“Jake—” you gasped between kisses, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, “we have class at eight tomorrow.”

He didn’t even blink. Just leaned back in and kissed you again, his thumb brushing along the underside of your jaw as he tilted your face up to him. “I don’t care,” he whispered against your lips.

You barely had time to respond before his mouth crashed into yours again, open-mouthed, his hand sliding from your cheek down to your waist, gripping just tight enough to make your knees weak. Your fingers threaded into the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer as your back hit the door, and you swore you felt the room spin slightly.

When you finally broke apart, panting, your lips felt swollen, kissed raw. Your heart was racing.

“So,” you murmured, dazed and breathless, “does this mean we’re… dating?”

Jake blinked, cheeks flushed, lips red. Then he grinned, cocky and breathless. “Are you asking me out?”

You rolled your eyes, still pinned between the wall and his body, smiling despite yourself. “It’s the least I could do, considering I didn’t realize you were in love with me for, like, a decade.”

Jake laughed—a low, husky sound that made your stomach flip. He leaned in again, brushing your lips with his, soft and slow this time. “You don’t owe me a single thing,” he whispered, one hand still at your waist, the other stroking your cheek like you were something fragile.

Then—just like that—he kissed you again. Harder. Messier.

He angled your chin just right and slotted your mouths together in a way that made you exhale a broken sound against his lips. His tongue teased against yours, slow and devastating, and when you whimpered into the kiss, he tightened his grip on your waist like he couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t just kissing anymore. It was kissing like gravity didn’t exist.

“Gosh,” he murmured against your lips, breath ragged, “I can’t stop. You’re like—” kiss “—a drug or something.” Kiss. “A really addictive one.”

You giggled mid-kiss, your hands sliding up into his hair. “You’re insane.”

And then SLAM.

Your bedroom door flew open like a jump scare.

Jake jumped away from you like you’d just been caught stealing a national treasure.

Before either of you could process what was happening, Sunghoon stormed into the room, dragging Jake into a headlock mid-sentence.

“WHAT THE—!” Jake shrieked.

You collapsed onto the wall, laughing so hard your knees buckled. Sunghoon grumbled something incoherent as he dragged a flailing Jake down the hallway like a sack of potatoes.

“I’m trying to sleep,” Sunghoon barked. “And instead I get moaning and giggling through my wall like I’m living in a romcom directed by Satan.”

Jake was breathless. “I wasn’t even going tor—”

“Yeah, yeah, pipe it, dumbass.”

Sunghoon slammed Jake down onto his bed and slammed the door behind him like it owed him peace.

You were still giggling in the hallway when Sunghoon’s door creaked open again. He stepped out looking 800 years tired, hoodie wrinkled and hair in chaos.

“And you!”

He pointed at you.

You stood straighter.

He stared. Then sighed.

“…Sleep well,” he muttered.

But just as he turned away, he mumbled under his breath: “God, you’re so happy it’s disgusting.”

And you were.

You were dizzy, breathless, borderline giddy.

Disgustingly happy.

And it felt perfect.

—

You laid in bed, the blanket tucked snugly beneath your chin, heart still racing from the absolute whirlwind that had been your night. Your lips were still tingling. Your cheeks ached from how much you’d smiled. Everything inside you buzzed, giddy and light, like you were a teenager with her first real crush.

Only this wasn’t a crush.

This was Jake.

You giggled into your pillow, kicking your feet beneath the covers, limbs wriggling like your body had no idea how to contain this much happiness.

Then—

Ping.

Your phone lit up beside you.

Jake 💙 i miss u already hehe

You let out an actual squeal, smacking your pillow with both hands, grinning like a complete lunatic.

God.

You’d never felt like this before. Not even with your ex. Not even close. This was warm. This was exciting. Safe. Stupid and lovely all at once.

This was Jake.

Still smiling, you typed back quickly, almost shy:

can u sneak back in?

You held your breath, eyes glued to the typing bubble.

But before it even disappeared—you heard it.

The quiet creak of a door unlocking.

You bolted upright.

Heart stuttering, you threw off your blanket and padded toward your bedroom door, cracking it open just enough to peek into the hallway.

And there he was.

Jake.

In pajama pants and a hoodie, hair tousled and fluffy, tiptoeing across the hallway like some cartoon burglar. His socked feet made no sound, but his face was full of mischief, lit up with a secret smile like this was the best part of his whole night.

He looked up and spotted you, then quickly pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shhh,” he whispered, a ridiculous grin tugging at his mouth.

You had to bite down on your knuckle to keep from laughing. He was impossible.

He reached your door in two quiet steps, gently pushing you backward into your room with both hands on your shoulders, like you were something delicate.

Just as he was about to step in—

SLAM.

Sunghoon’s door burst open like he was a horror movie jump-scare.

Jake froze.

You froze.

Both of you turned slowly, like kids caught red-handed raiding the snack cabinet.

Sunghoon stood in his doorway, hair sticking out in ten different directions, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, expression one hundred percent done with everything.

Jake opened his mouth, already guilty. “We—”

“Go. To. Sleep,” Sunghoon said flatly. His voice had the kind of force only a sleep-deprived man could deliver. “You absolute rabbits.”

You immediately clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter as Jake stepped back like a scolded puppy, both hands in the air.

“Okay okay! We’re sleeping!” he whisper-yelled as Sunghoon groaned, rubbed his temples, and slammed his door shut again.

The second it clicked closed, Jake leaned down toward your door and whispered with a grin:

“Tomorrow night, I’m climbing through your window.”

You giggled, heart racing again, and whispered back, “You better.”

And he did.

He really did. But he also got caught by Sunghoon. Again.

244 notes · View notes

yuons · 3 days ago

Text

SOBRIETY .. lhs

𝖦𝖭𝒪𝖬𝖨𝖢──── it proves to be easy to fluster your best friend

【 𝗢𝗥𝗕𝗜𝗧 】 lee heeseung x f!r ╱ 3OO+ o — fluff cau ! tion。 profanity flustered downbad heeseung

𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗶 : i’m going to taiwan next week :0

RBLOGS◜◡◝FDBCKS

lee heeseung is fucked.

he’s so tremendously done for. it wasn’t by his intention. god forbid, if he could ever rewind the time by 15 minutes he’d beg any force of the universe to lay down some pity on him.

but by the time he opens his eyes, you’re still there. still right in front of him with that stupid pretty smile of yours which takes up his thoughts in the mornings and even annoyingly more at nights.

“so? you’d do it won’t you?” you grin. watching your best friend’s stoic expression mull over to one of hesitance was all you need before you break out into the biggest smile of the century— or what seems like a century to heeseung.

heeseung fumbles for a good enough excuse he could conjure up, ”i’m not so sure i can, it might overlap with—“

“it’s on a friday night, heeseung. you don’t do anything on friday nights except bury yourself in your gaming chair” you sigh, your bottom lip jutting out. his eyes flicker there, just a moment longer than what’s necessarily ‘just friends’.

you look up at him, eyes roving over his fidgety hands and his gaze that just would never settle on yours. you sigh, he snaps his gaze back to you when he feels a warm hand on his neck.

“please?” heeseung’s breath hitch. you’re so evil. so, so evil for giving him that pout and even more for those eyes. “it’s just a one time thing”

heeseung breathes out, “fine”

how quickly your expression switches to a beaming light almost felt comical. he would laugh if it weren’t for the quick beat of his heart and the heat rushing to his cheeks that makes him want to die on the spot.

you tug him by his neck and place a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.“you’re the best! love you, seungie” all heeseung can see is the smile you shoot him before running back to your friends.

he promises himself it’s all casual. that you do favors for him too, that whatever is between you two is a stage of friendship. but even he knows it's a weak excuse.

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 30 minutes ago

Text

this is the biggest compliment ever😭😭😭im so glad you think so, i was really hoping this gave off accurate jake vibes so ty so much🫶🏻😫

no doubt ── s. jy

↳ summary ── struggling to balance a world tour, endless responsibilities, and...well, the sting of getting dumped by his girlfriend, jake finds peace & comfort confiding in you—one of his closest friends. what begins as lighthearted late-night phone calls while he's away on tour deepens into something more, quickly pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. as your connection with jake intensifies, so does your inner turmoil—torn between the comfort of your easy relationship with him and the terrifying possibility of falling for someone you're not even sure you can have in the first place. but jake? jake has absolutely no doubt of what he wants—and spoiler alert? it's you.

↳ pairing ── jake x f!reader, [ft. childhoodbestfriend!jungwon, bestfriends!enha]

↳ genre ── idol!jake, friends to lovers!au || angstttt, fluff, crack

↳ ✎ᝰ. 23.7k [never beating the allegations of getting too attached to my works and having too much fun writing i fear...]

↳ contains ── angst! very angsty but only after a lot of fluff...the cheesy cringe type but then it goes downhill real quick...but happy ending i swear!, mentions of insecurities, maybe one or two curse words, fic starts with jake dating og character named jenn, the use of pet names, jungwon practically plays therapist, jake is absolutely whipped for reader but is terrible at communication and a certified idiot . also jungwon is reader's best friend so the beginning sets up the context for that lolz

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── she's DONEEE [do u hear me crying in the background]...so some backstory lore abt this fic—basically two years ago i had a dream about the ~angsty scene~ of this fic and ever since then, i've had this itch of putting it into words. and when i finally decided to do it, no doubt came out and i thought it was literal fate since the lyrics match the vibe so well...don't tell me it isn't fate guys :') anyways..this is a little different than my typical writing style even though of course i had to include summm crack..but i am still nervous abt how it came out so i really really hope you guys like it :') thank u for all the support and love always <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

You and Yang Jungwon were literally born to be best friends.

Like, there was no other option.

Your mom? Their high school's poster child for academic perfection—top of her class, president of every club imaginable, a certified teacher's pet.

Jungwon's mom? Their high school's unofficial social chair—life of the party, karaoke queen, probably responsible for half the faculty's headaches.

Nothing alike.

So naturally, of course, they were inseparable. By their junior year, they'd already started planning their futures together, including one very specific and totally realistic goal that all teenage girl best friends make when they're young:

"We should have our first kids around the same time and force them to be best friends!"

"Oh my gosh, yes," Jungwon's mom agreed enthusiastically. "Like, we'll make them share everything! Matching outfits, playdates, joint birthday parties!"

But what your moms didn't realize as they were giggling over the playful promise that probably didn't hold any meaning to them at the age of 17?

The universe was taking notes.

So fast forward a couple decades later, and there you were, baby best friends from birth, fulfilling the shared dream of your mothers—the true puppeteers in this scenario.

All your moms had to do was execute their promise as planned, but the rest of it? The rest of it was easy.

You and Jungwon clicked before you even knew what words were, communicating in a series of shared giggles and unintelligible baby noises. By the time you turned two, you were finishing each other's sentences in your made-up gibberish language, and by preschool, the bond was unshakable.

You two—just like your moms—were inseparable.

By high school, everyone knew you were a package deal—where you went, Jungwon followed, and vice versa. So, when he announced your sophomore year that he was leaving to compete on a televised idol survival show, you were, understandably, skeptical.

"Are you sure it's not a scam?" You had asked, rolling lazily around on his bed while he scrambled around his room, packing his bags.

"It's not a scam," Jungwon laughed, carefully folding his clothes.

"Did they ask for your social security number?"

"Y/N."

"Exactly. I'm just saying—if you end up on one of those exposé documentaries about fake talent shows, don't say I didn't warn you."

Despite your teasing, you knew how much this meant to him. Jungwon had been dreaming about being in the music spotlight since he figured out how to work a karaoke machine at the age of six.

So when he eventually did make his debut with his group, you weren't surprised at all—it was inevitable, written in the stars, just like how your friendship with him was.

What did surprise you, though, was how seamlessly you got roped into his new world.

Sure, Jungwon's life got infinitely busier overnight, but there is no universe that exists in which he'd forget about you—his non-conjoined twin, ride-or-die, and ultimate life-long nuisance (his words, not yours).

And so naturally, you became an honorary member of this new life of his. The boys' practice studio might as well be your new home—the endless days camping out on the floor of their dance studio with your head in your textbooks while they drilled their choreography for the hundredth time proved that. Or maybe how you crash on their dorm couch so often that Sunoo coined you your new nickname: their unofficial eighth member.

Which brings you to now: a marketing major by day, unofficial idol by night, and, as always, a certified magnet to chaos.

Case in point? Whatever madness was happening around you at this exact moment.

"Okay, but hear me out," Heeseung says, gesturing dramatically with his pizza slice—one of many scattered across the coffee table everyone was sitting around. "Pineapple is the perfect combination of sweet and savory—"

"It's a crime against humanity," Sunghoon cuts in.

Tomorrow? The boys leave for their five-month tour.

Tonight? Tonight is tradition: the pre-tour pizza bash.

Naturally, it's chaos, as no one has bothered with the last-minute packing they're supposed to be doing.

Not a single bag is packed.

"It's fruit on bread," you scrunch your nose, taking a bite of your own normal pepperoni pizza. "This isn't dessert, Hee."

"Thank you!" Sunghoon reaches across the table to high-five you.

From the couch behind you, Jake chuckles and nudges your back with his knee, "Big talk coming from someone who claims pickles belong on everything."

"Uh, because they do," you whip your head around to glare at him. "Pickles are versatile."

"Versatile my ass," Jungwon mumbles from his spot beside you. "I love you, but you're deranged."

"Look who's talking, Mr. 'I-put-hot-sauce-on-everything'," you shoot back, eyes narrowing at your best friend. Everyone chuckles from around the table at your dramatic, yet endearing, overreaction.

"Hot sauce is different," Jay chimes in without even looking up from his phone. "It's an enhancer."

"Pickles enhance flavor too!"

"By making everything taste like vinegar," Sunoo deadpans from your other side. "Gross."

"Whatever," you roll your eyes. "You're all uncultured."

"And you're a menace," Jake quips from behind you, his voice dripping with amusement. You don't even have to turn around to see the smirk on his face—you can hear it loud and clear.

"Careful, Sim," you say with a sly glance over your shoulder. "Keep talking, and I'll start adding pickle juice to your coffee."

The room fills with laughter, but before Jake can fire back, his phone buzzes aggressively against the couch. You watch him glance down at his screen before his playful smile instantly fades.

"I'll be right back," Jake mutters, getting up and heading towards the kitchen without another word.

You frown as you watch him disappear around the corner, the sudden shift in his mood gnawing at you, and you can't help but wonder what's gotten under his skin.

After a few more minutes of heated debates over pizza toppings—and yet another round of everyone ganging up on your weird pickle obsession—you decide it was time for a drink refill.

Excusing yourself, you step into the kitchen, only to find Jake leaning against the counter, his arms crossed and gaze fixed on the empty wall in front of him. His phone sits abandoned on the counter, screen dark.

"Jake?" You call out softly, approaching slowly.

Your voice breaks through his haze, his expression flickering as he registers you standing in the doorway, your brows furrowed in concern.

"What's going on?" You ask, moving closer to stand in front of him.

"Nothing," Jake says too quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

You give him a look and he knows that you know he's lying, "Jake.."

He exhales, his expression crumbling as he runs a hand through his hair, "Just...Jenn called."

Ah. Of course. Jenn.

You almost flinch at the sound of the name, the weight it carries instantly souring your stomach. Jake's on-again, off-again girlfriend of two years was a constant source of heartbreak—not just for the poor boy, but for the entire group who helped pick up the pieces of his broken heart after every messy break-up…and even messier make-up.

"She broke up with me," Jake admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For real this time. Something about me leaving for tour and how it wasn't going to work out."

Your heart hurts at the sight of him in front of you—shoulders slumped, hands nervously twisting the hem of his shirt, as if trying to distract himself from the conversation.

"Oh, Jake...," you murmur, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you lean against the counter next to him.

"I'm fine," he insists, waving it off, but the expression on his face clearly betrays him.

"No, you're not," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "And that's okay."

Jake lets out a shaky breath, finally looking up from the ground to look at you, before shrugging, "I don't even know why I’m surprised. We've been...really off for a while now. Like, more than usual. But still, it sucks."

“Of course, it sucks," you nod, agreeing softly. "You guys were together for a long time. You cared about her."

For a moment, the two of you sit in a heavy silence with an unspoken understanding, the only sounds coming from the muffled chatter and laughter in the other room. You stay close, letting him process without pushing further.

Still, you can't entirely suppress the annoying flare of emotions bubbling in your chest—a tangled knot of sympathy and…something else. Relief, maybe? Not that you would ever wish any sort of pain on Jake—but you hate the way Jenn always leaves him like this: drained, doubting himself, and trying to piece together what went wrong, where he went wrong.

"Come back to the living room," you say finally, nudging his side gently. "Ni-ki is freaking out over which hoodies to pack. And I swear, they're all the same black hoodie."

Jake lets out a small, tired laugh, "You don't need me for that. He's gonna end up packing all of them, just watch."

"You don't know that," you tease. "Besides, I need someone's back up to help me convince him he's not actually going through an emo phase."

His eyes carry a faint smile as he looks at you, the corners of his lips lifting just enough to remind you of the warmth he usually carries.

"Okay," he says in a whisper, pushing himself off the counter.

You start towards the doorway, forgetting about your drink refill entirely, but his voice stops you.

"Y/N?"

You turn to find him still standing there, his eyes filled with warmth and appreciation.

"Thanks," he adds, a small smile on his face. It's such a simple statement, but the way he says it—soft, sincere, and maybe just a little desperate—makes something twist in your stomach. "For just...always being here."

You smile back up at the boy, "Of course, Jake. I'll always be here for you. You know that."

For a moment, he holds your gaze, as if taking a mental note of something. Then he nods, his shoulders relaxing.

"Okay," he says, exhaling as he gestures toward the doorway. "Let's go.”

You follow behind the boy back to the living room, silently hoping he knows just how much you mean your promise to him.

Jake's body is on autopilot at this point.

Another city, another show, another string of flashing lights and deafening cheers. It's a month into tour, and the endless loop of responsibilities has left him no room to just breathe.

And he loves this life—he really does. But tonight, for reasons he can't explain, the adrenaline that usually keeps him afloat isn't enough. Pure exhaustion lingers in his bones, heavier than the applause and screams echoing in his memory, and he just can’t seem to shake it.

When his head finally hits the stiff hotel pillow, Jake exhales with a heavy sigh. The city around him is alive, the neon lights brightly dancing against his windowpane, but he feels none of it.

Instead? He just feels the weight of homesickness and the ache of being alone.

Normally, he would push through, shove these thoughts into the back of his mind, call it a night. But tonight, the ache feels different—sharper, louder—and before he knows it, his phone is in his hand before he can talk himself out of it, his thumb hovering over your name on his screen.

A familiar battle wages in his mind, one he’s been battling more recently ever since tour became a little heavier on him. Slowly, the quiet yearning has been creeping in, and he’s been missing home more and more, craving the feeling of familiarity. But it isn’t just the physical places or the comfort of his regular routine that he craves.

It’s something else, something harder to name.

And for some other reason he can’t seem to explain, he thinks it’s you.

Jake doesn’t know when it started. Maybe it was hearing the sound of your voice through the phone whenever the guys called you to check in every now and then. Or maybe it was the way you would text in their shared group chat, your messages always tinged with humor or a sense of calm that somehow made everything feel a little less overwhelming.

Whatever it was, it stuck with him. He finds himself craving that unexplainable comfort only you seem to bring. He tells himself it’s nothing special, just the natural pull of familiarity. You’re back at home, the place he misses the most, so obviously, through association, it makes sense.

It’s logical. Nothing more.

That’s what he tells himself as his thumb hovers over your name. It’s not about you specifically—it couldn’t be. It’s just the connection to home. The grounding warmth of your voice. The way you somehow make the distance feel a little less suffocating.

Obviously. Nothing more.

He presses call.

Two rings. That's all it takes before your voice cuts through all the static in his head. Groggy, soft, and achingly familiar. Like home.

"Jake? It's late, is everything okay?"

Jake glances at the clock. 10:13PM where he is. Much later for you, he imagines. Guilt stirs, but...

He doesn't want to hang up.

Hearing your voice feels like the first breath of air after surfacing from deep water. He instantly feels more comfortable despite the heaviness in his chest.

"Hey," he mumbles, his voice quiet. "I'm okay. Just...needed to hear a friendly voice, I guess."

"Wow, are the boys that bad that you need to call me?" You tease warmly, despite the sleepiness lingering in your words.

Jake chuckles, the sound low and tired, "Nothing against them, really. It's just...sometimes you need someone who reminds you of home, you know?"

The other end of the line goes quiet for a moment. He can hear you shuffle, and he braces himself for a teasing comment about him being sappy and sentimental. But instead, your voice softens.

"Well, I'm glad I could be that for you," your voice telling him you're smiling brightly on the other side of the screen. "Though if I had a private jet, I'd send it right now. Bring you back instantly."

"A private jet, huh?" Jake's eyes flutter close as he's engulfed into the usual, playful rhythm that's always there between the two of you. "You'd do that for me?"

"Only if you bring back goodies, preferably snacks," you quip back, and the warmth in his chest grows.

There's another pause, the kind that feels comfortable rather than awkward. Jake shifts in his spot and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make everything feel...lighter. Like, I can’t explain it, but just hearing you makes me feel like I’m not carrying all this stuff by myself.”

Your voice softens at his sudden vulnerability.

“Because you don't have to carry it all on your own, Jake. You know that, right? That’s what friends are for."

Jake hums in response, a low sound of acknowledgement as he keeps his phone pressed close, your voice instantly soothing the heavy emotions he's been carrying.

"You sound exhausted," you say after a beat, your tone cautious but filled with genuine care. "How are you holding up? With everything—the tour, the...break-up, just...you?"

Jake lets out a low groan, his fingers brushing through his hair. "You sound like my mom."

"Well, someone has to," you tease lightly, a relieved laugh slipping into your voice, as if you'd been afraid you overstepped. "Seriously, Jake. Are you doing okay?"

Jake hesitates, the question catching him off guard. He hadn't let himself think too much about Jenn or the breakup since leaving for tour a month ago. The boys knew better than to bring it up, and Jake had been grateful for that—for the distraction.

But now, with you, it feels different.

Safer, easier. Natural.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” he sighs, the sound heavy through the phone. “Some days it feels like I’m fine, like I’ve moved on, and other days...it’s like I’m stuck in this loop of ‘what ifs.’ Like, what if I did something different? Or..."

He trails off to a pause, his throat tight, before he finally admits to you, and himself, "...what if I just wasn't enough?"

“Jake,” you say gentle but firm, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. “You are enough. You've always been enough. Jenn...she just wasn’t the right person for you. That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.”

He swallows hard, your words settling into the cracks he didn't even realize were there.

"Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. It's just...hard, you know? Haven't really talked about it since it happened. But talking to you helps—a lot."

“I’m glad." He can hear the quiet sincerity in your words. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing an amazing job. With tour, with...everything. You've got this, Jake. I’m really proud of you.”

Jake lets out a breathy laugh, the warmth in your words settling something in his chest—a knot he didn't even realize was there.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“It’s a gift,” you easily reply, and he can hear the grin in your voice, the easy banter making him feel lighter.

"I missed this," the words tumble out before he can stop himself. Then he quickly adds, as if to explain himself, "It's weird not having you around. The boys are great and all, but you give the best advice. Don't tell them that."

You giggle on your end, the sound making Jake's lips curve into a small smile and his heart twists.

In both a comforting and terrifying way.

"I miss it too," your voice quieter now. "But I'm here. You know that, right? Even if you're on the other side of the world, or if you call me at four in the morning like you're doing right now."

Jake lets out a chuckle followed by a sleepy groan, "Sorry about that. But...thank you, Y/N. For picking up."

"Always," you reply, and he hopes you mean it.

A beat passes. Jake knows he should hang up, that he should let you sleep. He tries to convince himself that you need the sleep more than he needs this call.

But he can't help himself.

"You'll yell at me if I don't sleep, won't you?"

"Absolutely. Go to bed, Jake. Or at least try. Zombie mode doesn't suit you."

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but his eyes feel heavier and he knows he's falling asleep, the tension in his body from before easing away. "But only because you scare me sometimes."

You laugh. "Good. Now get some rest. And call me whenever you need to, okay?"

"Okay," he mumbles into his phone quietly, his mind already slipping into a deep sleep.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Jake."

"Don't you have a bedtime, Sim Jaeyun?" You tease, answering the call. The clock reads 1:27AM, and you should be asleep—you really should—but you smile anyways when Jake's name appears on your screen.

"Bedtime? I don't know her," his voice slightly groggy, but as usual, still warm. "Besides I knew you'd be awake. You don't sleep like a normal person either."

You roll your eyes, knowing fully well he can't see it, "Yeah, well, I don't have to dance around a stage for two hours tomorrow."

"True, but you do have to deal with my constant calls and keep me entertained. That's way harder."

"Oh yeah, obviously," you say with mock seriousness. "Being your emotional support human is a full-time job."

“Emotional support human,” Jake repeats, chuckling softly. “You’re right. I guess I really owe you, huh?”

“Oh, 100%,” you shoot back, a grin in your voice. “I want one of those tour hoodies you guys keep posting with.”

“Done. What size?”

"The oversized one."

Jake pauses. “Let me guess—so you can sleep in it?"

You hesitate, suddenly sheepish at how he knows you too well, “Hey, it's only cozy if it's oversized!"

You hear his soft laugh on the other end of the line.

“Cute. I’ll make sure to steal one for you.”

You try not to overanalyze the way your stomach flips at the word cute, and the easy way he says it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You shake the thought off immediately. This wasn't new, after all, Jake's always warm and easy to talk to. But lately—over the past month of phone calls—the way he says certain things, the tone he says them in, and the way they make you feel? It carried a weight you weren't sure how to hold.

In both a comforting and terrifying way.

“So, how was your day?” you suddenly bring up, trying to redirect your thoughts.

"Tiring," Jake sighs, his voice muffled as he shifts around in bed. "And Jungwon keeps beating me at Mario Kart during our break time. My pride is in shambles, Y/N."

"Let me guess," you smirk, repeating his words from earlier. "He picks Yoshi, and you keep picking Toad because you think he's underrated."

"Excuse me," Jake scoffs. "Toad is underrated. But, for your information, I choose Toad because your go-to character is Toadette."

Your heart does that stupid flip again. His words are light—I mean, you guys are talking about Mario Kart for god's sake—but it's stuff like that that keeps you questioning the true meaning behind his words.

You ignore the feeling, instead, a laugh bubbles up in response, an attempt to sound unaffected.

"You're so weird."

“But you like it,” he quips, voice dipping just slightly, like he’s testing the waters.

You're caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone, but you recover just as quickly.

"Debatable."

“Liar.”

His tone is teasing, but there's something softer behind it, “You wouldn’t still be on the phone with me if you didn’t like me at least a little.”

“Maybe I’m just bored,” you shoot back, though your cheeks are burning at his sudden forwardness, questioning if he’s serious or just messing with you.

You hear him hum in response, "Then I guess I'll have to work harder to keep you interested."

“Oh yeah? How are you planning to do that?” You try to match his teasing tone, but internally, you feel unsteady under the implication of his words.

“By being my usual charming self, duh,” he says, his voice dropping into a smooth tone. “And, you know, calling you every night so you don’t forget about me.”

Your heart squeezes. "You already do that, stupid. You think I'd forget about you?"

“Never,” Jake's reply is immediate, almost instinctive, leaving no room for doubt. “But just in case…I like hearing your voice. Makes me feel like I’m not a million miles away.”

His words linger in the space between you, heavier than the playful banter from earlier. You swallow hard, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

“You’re not a million miles away, Jake.”

“Feels like it,” he murmurs. You hear a pause in his voice, as if he's thinking hard about his next words. “I miss home. I miss...you."

Your chest tightens, and your hands grip the sheets beneath you, as if the fabric could somehow ground you. Your heart is doing that thing again—the erratic, terrifying thing that makes you want to believe in something you're not sure is even real.

And at the same time, your thoughts are scrambling to say something lighthearted before the conversation steers into that dangerous, dangerous territory you were sure you weren't ready for.

Not yet.

"Well, you better win at least one round of Mario Kart for me while you're out there," you force a laugh, trying to mask the tremor in your voice.

Jake laughs, the sound genuine, "I'll try. But if I lose, just know I'm dedicating every race to you."

"Wow, I'm so honored," you try to deadpan, but he can sense the grin in your voice.

"You should be," his voice softens again. "Thanks for picking up tonight, by the way. I know it's late."

He never fails to thank you every night, as if you haven't been picking up every day for the past month and won't be picking up tomorrow, and the next day...and the day after that.

And, somehow, the same, genuine appreciation makes it so hard for you to ignore that weird, warm, fluttering sensation growing inside you every time you talk to him.

But, regardless, you always give him the same reply:

"Always," your voice matching his softness. "Call me whenever, okay?"

"Don’t say that," Jake warns, the teasing edge creeping back into his tone. "I'll actually do it."

"Fine," you giggle. "But if you call me at four in the morning again, I'm putting my phone on Do Not Disturb."

"Deal." He pauses, then adds, "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Jake."

As you hang up, you stare at your phone for a moment longer than you should have, your room feeling oddly quiet and too empty without his voice.

It's just another call, Y/N. Just another call between two friends.

But deep down, a part of you tells you it isn’t that simple anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—he knows it too.

“Are you busy?” Jake’s voice sounds more tired than usual, heavy with an overwhelming amount of tension.

“Never too busy for our calls,” you easily reply without hesitation as you lay back in your bed, phone close to your ear. Your voice is light, a stark contrast to the weariness laced in his, and when he doesn’t respond with his typical chuckle, you immediately sense his mood. “Hard day?”

He exhales slowly, the weary sound answering your question. Today was a lot. Hours of rehearsal followed by a concert, the adrenaline rush of performing, followed by the chaos of having the guys’ hotel information leaked. Crowds of paparazzi and fans swarmed the entrance, the relentless flashes of cameras breaking through whatever little pieces of calm he had left within him. The noise, the pressure, the endless cycle—all spiraled into a mental mess he doesn’t seem to shake.

The second he settled into his hotel room, all Jake knew was that he needed to talk to you—the one person who could steady his racing thoughts.

"I just...I didn't think this would get to me, you know? The cameras, the people, the flashes in my face—I'm just—it's like I'm never alone."

Your heart twists at the vulnerability and rawness in his voice, as if he’s admitting something for the first time—not just to anyone else, but to himself.

"I—I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could just disappear, just for a little while. Just to breathe, you know?"

You close your eyes, your grip on the phone unconsciously tightening as if it could anchor him somehow.

"I know it's not the same," your voice steady, even as you internally ached for him, "but...you can disappear with me, Jake. Even if it's just through the call. No cameras. No noise. Just...you and me."

He lets out an exhale—shaky, but relieved.

"You're really good at this. Making me feel like it's all gonna be okay."

"Because it is going to be okay, Jake," you reply softly. "You're not alone, Jake. Not with me."

"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, and he wishes more than anything else in this moment that he actually was with you. “I know.”

"Jake," you groan, sitting cross-legged on your bed, staring at the flustered boy through your laptop screen. "I'm begging you—just wear the black jacket. It's literally impossible to mess up black."

"But what about the beanie?" He whines as he pops back into view, his face scrunched up in genuine distress. "Do you think I can pull it off, or will I look like I'm trying too hard? Be honest, Y/N."

What started as a simple fashion-advice-question over the phone turned into a two-hour wardrobe emergency—all because Jake couldn’t figure out what to wear to the airport the next day (because, apparently, airport fits matter—his words, not yours).

"Jake, you could wear a literal trash bag to the airport and fans would still lose their minds," you tease, biting back a laugh.

He rolls his eyes at you, but the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.

"Okay, but seriously, you’re trying too hard. Just go with the jacket, no beanie," you add on, just to end this two-hour long madness.

"Hmm," Jake plops on his bed and turns towards his phone camera, and you swear you can see the pout forming on his lips. "But I already posted a preview of the jacket last week. Isn't that, like, repetitive?"

"Jake,” you blink at him, "it's an airport. Not a fashion show."

He stares at you for a beat, then lets out a dramatic sigh, "Fine! Jacket, no beanie. But if I see even one criticizing comment calling me basic, I'm blaming you."

You laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness, "Deal. Now go to sleep, Sim Jaeyun."

His grin softens as he adjusts the camera to fully look at you, pout gone, eyes glistening.

"Only because you said so."

"Hey," you say softly, answering the call as you snuggle deeper into your blanket, letting it engulf you completely.

The familiar sound of Jake's quiet breathing fills the space between you, and before he even says a word, you already know.

"Rough day?" You ask gently when he doesn’t say anything after a few seconds.

"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual, almost drowned out by the low hum of background noise. "I just...I don't really feel like talking right now, if that's okay."

"Of course," you reply without hesitation, your tone gentle, no questions asked.

On the other end, Jake presses the phone closer to this ear in an attempt to feel closer to you, instantly feeling better from your pure understanding of how he’s feeling, and he thinks—not for the first time—that you might be his favorite person in the world.

The warm silence engulfs the both of you like a shared blanket, unspoken yet understood. You can hear the faint echoes of his surroundings: the muffled laughter of the boys somewhere nearby, the distant honk of traffic outside his hotel, and then the quiet shuffle of Jake shifting positions in his hotel bed. You catch his breath catching slightly, like he's finally allowing himself to relax—to just be.

You don't try to fill the silence. You know that he needs this—a moment of peace in the chaos. Instead, you similarly press the phone closer to your ear, as if doing so can somehow bridge the miles between you, hoping he can sense your presence reaching out for him.

Minutes pass like this, and for a moment, it’s so quiet you begin to wonder if he's falling asleep. But then, a deep exhale breaks the stillness.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says finally, his voice low but steady, carrying a weight of sincerity that makes your heart clench.

"You don't have to thank me, Jake," your voice matches his softness. "You know that."

"Still," his voice is low, so quiet, it feels like a secret meant only for you. "I appreciate you. More than you probably know."

You smile to yourself, your heart aching in the best way possible, and you desperately try your best to ignore it, no matter how much excitement it brought you.

"Always, Jake."

“Tell me something about you that I don’t already know,” you challenge him, your voice carrying that light and endearing tone over the phone that Jake’s come to crave.

“Hmm,” Jake hums thoughtfully as he lies in his bed, eyes closed, just simply treasuring the small moments, like this one, with you.

Even though it’s definitely 3AM where he is right now. And he definitely has to be up in a few hours for rehearsal.

Oh well, completely irrelevant. Talking about everything and anything with you just felt so right.

“I don’t know,” he eventually exhales, his brain too foggy to think of anything logical right now. “I feel like you know me better than I know myself at this point, Y/N.”

“You’re so corny it physically hurts, Jake,” you scoff, and Jake swears he can feel your exaggerated eye roll from thousands of miles away.

“Oh—wait, wait! I have one,” he perks up, his eyes shooting open as he turns towards the phone in excitement.

“Hit me,” you say, unconsciously smiling at how cute he sounds.

“I’m allergic to flowers.”

The line falls silent for a beat before you erupt into a storm of giggles so wild it makes Jake feel sick from how fast the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering.

“That’s your fun fact? That’s so tragic, Jake,” you gasp through your giggles. “Like, depressingly tragic.”

“Hey! It’s not that sad, it could be worse,” Jake hopes you can hear his pout over the phone (you can).

“So you’re telling me you’ve never bought a girl flowers before?” You tease, smiling to yourself as you stare at your ceiling.

“Guess not,” Jake lets out a laugh, which surprises himself. “Jenn used to always get mad at me for never getting her any, but what am I supposed to do? Show up with a bouquet and an epi-pen? I literally start tearing up whenever I’m around any kind.”

You lose it all over again, your laughter spilling through Jake’s phone like sunshine, and Jake doesn’t even realize he’s smiling so widely until his cheeks start to ache.

But what Jake does realize is something unexpected: for the first time in forever, he can talk about Jenn without a single pang of…anything. No weird tension, no lingering sadness—just a casual mention and then…nothing.

It’s freeing, this feeling of lightness, like an invisible weight he didn’t know he was even carrying has suddenly lifted. He wonders if this is what moving on really feels like, if he’s found his emotional freedom. He wonders when it changed.

He wonders maybe it’s not when—maybe it’s who.

And he wonders if it’s you.

Today was supposed to be Jake’s day off. The golden ticket to rest, recharge, and not think about anything.

Key term: supposed to be.

Instead, Jake found himself knee-deep in the trenches of emotional warfare—and losing spectacularly.

The morning started innocently enough. No alarm, no schedule, just the soft promise of freedom that was so close within his reach. But by noon, Jake came to a harsh realization.

Freedom was a lie.

Because every step, every sight, every breath, was haunted by one inescapable thought: You.

It started with a boutique. Him and the boys had wandered down a cobblestone street in a city that Jake had already forgotten the name of—city number ten or eleven of tour? He barely knew anymore. But then his gaze caught on a mannequin in the window.

Big mistake.

The outfit on display—similar to his mind—had you written all over it. Immediately, his brain spiraled.

Y/N would love that. She'd probably drag me and all the guys in and force me to hold her bag while she tried it on.

He had to physically stop himself from dragging the group inside to purchase it on the spot.

Next? A coffee shop. And there it was: a poster featuring some limited-edition iced peach latte. Jake froze, staring at it like it held the answers to life itself.

You’d love it. You would order it, (well, you'd make Jake order it, because you hate talking to cashiers), sip it, smile, and probably rant about how overpriced it was—even though Jake would pay for it—yet you’d still finish the entire thing.

And then, you'd steal half of his drink, too.

Because you always did.

And Jake always lets you.

The final straw? A cat. Just a random stray, peacefully lounging on a sunny part of sidewalk, looking like it had zero interest in the world around it. And even that didn't escape Jake's you-obsessed filter. Without even thinking, Jake whipped out his phone.

It was instinctual at this point.

Jake [1:06PM]: (attached - one image) Jake [1:06PM]: thought you'd like this one :)

Because obviously, you needed to see that cat. Immediately.

By the time Jake collapses onto his hotel bed that evening, he feels like he’d run a mental marathon—except instead of a finish line, every road led back to you.

He flops onto his bed, hoping sleep would save him from the storm raging in his brain.

Spoiler alert: it doesn't.

Instead, it leads him to the complete opposite. He stares at your name on his phone, your contact picture, your last messages to him.

You texted him two hours ago—a sweet goodnight message that ended with your usual, 'Don't hesitate to call if you need me.'

Casual. Normal.

But it probably didn't mean, 'Hey, please interrupt my sleep from the other side of the world so we can discuss your ongoing emotional crisis over me.'

Don't do it, Jake. The remaining rational brain cells within him beg him to stop. You're being dramatic. She's not the air you need to breathe.

But at the same time, deep down, Jake really thinks you are.

The worst part? You two already had talked on the phone earlier—when Jake had another fashion crisis and couldn't decide what to wear for his day off exploring with the guys. Of course, you laughed at him, teased him, but then helped him pick something out anyways. Typical.

Personally, if it was up to him, he'd spent his whole day off on the phone with you. Talking about everything. Or nothing. Whatever you wanted, Jake would've done it, no hesitation.

Don't do it, Jake, his brain warns him again. What kind of obsessed-lunatic calls the same person twice in one day?

Answer: Jake.

But as Jake lies in his hotel bed, thoughts heavily clouded with the image of you and the sound of your voice, he realizes...this wasn't just a phone call thing. No, this was deeper, worse. And somewhere between staring at the same patch of ceiling and replaying every memory of you on a mental loop, Jake tries to rationalize it.

She’s just a good friend, Jake. A best friend, even! You think about her a lot because she’s cool and funny and…and she has the laugh of a Disney princess...But it’s normal to think about your friends, right? Right??

But the more he tries to downplay it, the clearer it becomes. This was something else.

And then it hits.

Like, really hits.

Oh my god. I like her.

Jake shoots upright, widened eyes filled with horror, as if the realization itself just physically smacked him across the face.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

Jake buries his face in his hands, groaning. But the groan quickly turns into a muffled scream, because the more he thinks about it, the worse it gets.

Because he thinks you're going to be the death of him. He really, really likes you. Not in the vague, 'Oh, she’s cute' way, but in the write-her-name-in-a-heart-and-doodle-little-stars-around-it kind of way. The stare-at-her-texts-like-they’re-poetry kind of way. The imagine-her-laughing-at-your-dad’s-jokes-and-enjoying-your-mom’s-meals-forever kind of way.

And this feeling? It's new. It's terrifying.

It's exhilarating.

Jake realizes in this very moment that he's never experienced this heart-pounding, face-flushing, breath-taking kind of feeling towards anyone. Sure, his past relationship had been meaningful in its own way, but now Jake is realizing that the foundation of his past relationship was tangled up in obligations and unspoken expectations. A tightrope act of Jake having to be the perfect boyfriend, the perfect idol, the perfect...everything. He never realized how suffocating it was until now—until you. Because this feeling with you?

This was pure. Simple, clear, and undeniable.

Your sheer existence proved that it's possible for someone to understand him better than he understands himself. Your laugh had a way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight of the world had been momentarily suspended. Just one look from you alone somehow always manages to make him feel like he was still worthy even on his worst days.

With you, Jake felt...himself, for once. Not Jake Sim, global popstar. Not Jake Sim, the boyfriend of so-and-so. Just...Jake.

Jake's heart pounds as the realization sinks in. He's now transitioned from screaming into his hands to his poor hotel pillow.

Because as clear and strong as this feeling is, the doubt is just as overwhelming. What if you don't feel the same? What if this ruins everything?

But at the same time...what if you do feel the same way?

What if this is his chance? The butterfly effect that changes everything? What if you're it? You have to be.

And so, like an idiot possessed, Jake's finger is one millimeter away from pressing call on your name again.

Because, obviously, the best way to deal with overwhelming feelings is to confess them from a hotel room five countries away.

Obviously.

Because what if he didn't call? What if he spent the rest of his night spiraling into an endless pit of unspoken feelings and overthinking, arms flailing as he knows the only way out of the pit is with your help?

What if his brain explodes with the sheer amount of feelings he has for you and he never has the chance to tell you ever again?

He presses call.

The line rings twice before you answer.

"Jake?" Your voice is soft, laced with surprise and just the faintest trace of sleep. "It's late for you, is everything okay?"

Jake's brain short-circuits. What time even is it for him? He has no idea, and frankly, he doesn't care.

"Yeah," he blurts, far too quickly that he winces at himself. He clears his throat before trying again, "I mean, yeah. Everything's fine. I just...couldn't sleep."

"Oh," you hum softly and Jake swears the sound alone could single-handedly resolve global wars.

Yeah, he definitely likes you.

"Is something stressing you out?" The genuine concern in your voice makes his chest tighten.

"No—well, nothing like that," Jake rushes to assure you, sitting up straighter in bed now, as if you could see him. His voice lowers, almost shy, "I just...I was thinking about you."

Silence. Jake's heart pounds so loudly, he's sure you can hear it through the phone.

"About me?" You finally tease, light and playful, but there's something softer underneath. "What did I do to deserve such an honor?"

Jake lets out a nervous, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair, “You exist. That’s what.”

Another pause. He hears you exhale softly, and the sound alone sends his heart into overdrive.

"That was smooth," your voice is quiet, soft, as if teetering on the line of teasing and nervousness at the same time. "Ten out of ten, Jake."

"I'm serious," Jake tries his best to keep his voice from cracking, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him. "I was lying here, thinking about everything, and I realized something."

"And what's that?"

Jake's throat goes dry. His heart is screaming at him to say it, but his brain begs him to reconsider.

But Jake's sure he's lost all his rational brain cells for sure at this point, so he swallows hard, and braces himself for impact.

"I like you, Y/N."

The words spill out, raw and unpolished, but so utterly true.

“I mean, I really like you," Jake continues, his voice barely above a whisper now. "More than a friend, more than anything.”

The line goes silent, and for a split second, a lifetime of pure awkwardness and torture of not having you in his life anymore flashes in his vision, and he rushes to fill the void.

"I know this is probably the worst timing ever, and probably really scary...and it's okay if you don't feel the same way," his voice definitely cracks this time, laying everything bare, but he doesn't care anymore. "But I had to tell you. I can't pretend around you, not when being around you feels like the only time I'm really me."

Then, you let out a soft exhale—a disbelieving, breathless sound that makes Jake's heart skip a beat.

"Jake..."

"You're...you're everything, Y/N. You make life better just by being in it. And I haven't even seen you in four months, but you're all I think about," Jake lets out a small laugh, swallowing the remainder of all his pride and dignity. "I promise, when I'm back...I'll prove it to you. I'll show you how much you mean to me. Anything it takes. "

For once in his life, Jake feels completely vulnerable—and yet, strangely, it feels right.

Because he means it, every word.

He's never meant anything more.

The line had gone quiet after Jake’s confession, his words echoing in your ears.

“I like you, Y/N.”

No, not like. Really, really like.

You spent the last few days replaying his words over and over, dissecting every syllable, every tiny inflection in this voice. At first, it didn't even seem real.

A part of you still thinks it isn't—that this is all a cruel dream and you're going to wake up any second now back in the real world. The one where Jake Sim, the boy who turns heads and steals hearts without even trying, didn't just confess his deepest, most vulnerable feelings for you in a single phone call.

But no. He said it, alright. Clear as day.

First, all you felt was pure happiness. Maybe it was hearing his voice everyday, or maybe it was seeing how his face lit up through the screen when you picked up his video calls—but somewhere along the way, you knew it was something deeper.

Something that made your heart skip when his name lit up your phone, something that left you craving his voice to make your day feel complete. And now? Now the boy who’d effortlessly become your favorite part of every day was telling you you’d done the same for him.

But then, came the fear.

Because what if this was just a rebound? What if you were just a soft landing for him, a way to patch up the holes left behind by his past? Here you were, standing at the edge of something terrifyingly real, wondering if you were just a step in his recovery process—a way to fill the cracks, but not the kind of permanence you were beginning to crave.

You weren’t naive enough to see Jake’s past relationship didn’t still linger in the corners of his mind. You’d seen him struggle with it before, how hard he’d tried to convince himself he was fine. What if you were just the next step in his healing, rather than something real—a Band-Aid for a wound that wasn’t even yours to heal?

And worse—what if you let it happen? What if you let yourself fall, only to hit the ground at an alarming speed, and...splat. Not just a regular, embarrassing tumble, no. But the kind that leaves you flattened on the pavement like a cartoon character who ignored every warning sign.

Because that’s exactly what it would feel like, wouldn’t it? Giving it, letting yourself hope—only to crash and burn spectacularly.

Deep down, you knew you weren’t just risking a little heartache. Because Jake? Jake had quietly claimed a permanent spot in your heart at this point.

You were risking everything.

And the worst part?

You were already halfway there.

That was the reason why you told him you needed time. The reason why all you could manage to respond was a meek, 'I just...I need to think about this.' And to his credit, Jake hadn't pushed. Of course, not.

But now, three days later, you were no closer to an answer. If anything, the time apart had made everything worse.

Because as the days stretched on, with every passing hour, every text you didn’t send and every call you didn’t make, one thing became gut-wrenchingly, undeniably clear:

You were already his.

You miss Jake’s voice, his laugh, the way he rambles about the most random things late at night. You miss how, somehow, he made you fall asleep with a smile on your face from the other side of the world. You miss him, that even in his absence, he was still your first thought in your mind when you woke up and the last before you drifted to sleep.

And no amount of overthinking or second-guessing could change the truth that finally settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t ready to admit to yourself:

You were his. Completely.

The only question now was whether you’d let yourself believe he was yours too.

"Y/N?"

"Jungwon," you groan helplessly into your phone. "Help me."

A pause. Then, "Are you sure you meant to call me? It's Jungwon, not Jake," he teases lightly. "I can go get Jake if you meant—"

"Jungwon!" You cut him off, panicked. "I'm being serious. It's about Jake, dummy."

"Oh," his tone shifts instantly as he senses the seriousness in your voice. "Did something happen? Because I swear, for the past three days, Jake's been moping around like a kicked puppy, and I was gonna ask you about it because I know you guys have been talking a lot more, but I didn't want to push, and—"

"That's exactly it, Jungwon!" You wail into your pillow, your voice muffled. Great, now you feel even worse, knowing Jake is moping around, waiting for you.

"What's exactly it?" Your best friend presses, voice curious. "I need specifics, Y/N."

You hesitate, the words clinging to the back of your throat like they're too heavy to admit. Finally, you take a deep breath and force them out.

"Jake told me he likes me, Jungwon. Like really, really likes me. He gave this whole monologue about how I'm all he can think about, and it was so cute, and it made me want to explode from joy and fear all at once, and I don't know what to do!"

A beat of silence.

Jungwon sucks in a dramatic breath and then, "Wait, wait, wait. Back up. First of all, this is not news to me."

You blink, as if he can see your look of shock over the phone, "What?"

"This was obvious, Y/N. The guy's been smitten with you for months. You guys literally have been talking every day since we left."

Your jaw drops, "So what? You and I talk every day! How is this any different?"

Jungwon snorts, "Y/N, we text every day. About minuscule things. Like me reminding you not to forget your keys and you ghosting my last text. But you and Jake? You guys talk for hours—into the illegal hours of the night, mind you. Trust me, I know. Hotel walls are thin."

You feel your cheeks flushing, "That doesn't mean anything."

"Doesn't it?" Jungwon's voice is laced with amusement. "When's the last time you called me just to hear my voice?"

"Jungwon."

"Exactly."

You groan again, "But Jungwon, what if…what if he's not over Jenn? What if I'm just a rebound?"

Jungwon goes quiet for a moment, his tone softening when he finally speaks, “Jake’s not like that, Y/N. You know that. He wouldn’t tell you he likes you unless he meant it.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Look," he interrupts. "Jake’s a lot of things—annoyingly loud, for one—but he’s not the kind of guy who’d use someone, especially you, as a rebound. If he said he likes you, he likes you.”

You bite your lip, his words settling over you like a warm blanket—because you know they're true.

“And for what it’s worth,” Jungwon continues, “I think you like him too.”

“I..,” you falter, your heart hammering in your chest. “I do.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the nerves coiled in your stomach, “I don’t know. I guess I’m scared.”

“That’s okay,” Jungwon says gently. “But don’t let fear stop you from something that could make you happy. You deserve that, Y/N. And so does Jake.”

You close your eyes, letting Jungwon's words sink in. Deep down, you know he's right, he always is.

"Thanks, Jungwon," you say, your voice softer now, tinged with gratitude.

"Anytime," he replies, and then, with a teasing lilt, "But seriously—you should probably tell him soon. I can't stand watching him mope around like a sad, abandoned puppy. It's seriously tragic, like, to the point where I’m gonna have to start letting him win at Mario Kart."

A small giggle escapes you, light and genuine for the first time in three days, "I know, I know. Eventually."

"Y/N," his voice turns playfully stern, like a parent lecturing their toddler. "Eventually isn't a time. Just call him. You've been thinking about him nonstop, haven't you?"

Unfortunately, Jungwon knows you too well. Your silent response betrays you, and Jungwon lets out a triumphant hum.

"Thought so. Well, you should go. You have a call to make."

You sigh, a mix of nerves and a new determination bubbling, "Okay, okay. But if this goes horribly wrong, I'm blaming you."

"It won't. But deal," his tone is reassuring, confident, like he already knows how this story ends. "You got this, Y/N."

The call ends, and the quiet still of your room taunts you. For a moment, you sit there, staring at your phone, the little icon of Jake's contact picture—a selfie the two of you took together many years ago—staring back at you like a challenge.

Your fingers hover. Your heart races, your palms feel clammy, and your stomach twists.

But then you remember Jungwon's words.

You deserve this.

And so does Jake.

You take a deep breath, then you press down on his name.

The phone doesn't even reach the second ring before he picks up.

"Y/N," Jake’s voice is rushed, a little breathless.

"Hey," you say softly, suddenly unsure where to start. "Um, were you busy?"

"No, no," he quickly responds. "Not at all. You could call me at 3AM, and I still would’ve picked up."

"That's unhealthy, you know," your lips twitch as you lay back in your bed, taking a deep inhale. You missed this—you missed him.

"For you? Worth it," you can hear the smile in his voice, but along with the slight tension just beneath it—the faintest tremor that tells you he's been waiting for this call, maybe agonizing over it just as much as you have.

You swallow hard, gripping the phone tight, "Jake, about...our last call..."

"Take your time," he says gently, though you don't miss the way his voice wavers ever so slightly. "I mean it, Y/N. There's no pressure."

You exhale shakily, closing your eyes, “I’ve been thinking a lot, too. About you. About…us.”

Jake stays silent, but you could hear the faint sound of him shifting, like he was bracing himself.

You squeeze your eyes hard, as you let the words finally come out, "I like you too, Jake. A lot. So much, honestly. It's just..."

"It's just...?" Jake's voice repeats softly, as if that's all he can manage to let out in the midst of his nervousness.

You hold your breath, scared of what you're about to admit—to Jake and to yourself.

"It's just...I'm scared," your voice comes out barely above a whisper, "I'm scared that this is too good to be true. That you're saying all of this because...I don't know—you're trying to move on...from the past, or because you're lonely on tour, or—"

"Y/N,” Jake's voice cuts through firm, but gentle.

"You're not…a rebound, or a distraction, or anything like that," he starts quietly, each word deliberate. "And this isn't about...Jenn, or me being lonely, or whatever else you think. This is about you."

Your breath hitches as you take in his words and open your eyes, hoping that staring at the ceiling above you could somehow ground you.

“You’re the one who makes me laugh when I’ve had the worst day,” Jake continues. “You’re the one I want to talk to, even when I’m running on zero sleep. You’re the one I think about when I’m on stage and wish I could just look into the crowd and see you there. It’s you, Y/N."

His words are overwhelming, too much, and you're unsure how to even process them. Your throat tightens, and you can feel the subconscious tears prickling at the corners of your eyes without even realizing they were forming.

"Are you sure, Jake?"

"More than anything else, Y/N," he says immediately, like the words have been waiting on the tip of his tongue. "And I want to do this right, Y/N. No rushing, no expectations. Just...tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You can picture him on the other side of the line, sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, his brows probably furrowed in that adorable way they always do whenever he tries to find the right words.

You bite your lip, a small laugh escaping despite the tears sliding down your cheeks, “You’re so cheesy, you know that?”

Jake lets out a small laugh, immediately easing from the tension that hung in the air.

"Only for you," he mumbles, his voice soft but steady.

You sigh, the sound reaching Jake on the other side. There's a pause, a moment of mutual understanding in silence, just listening to the quiet, peaceful hum of each other's breathing.

“Jake?” You say finally, your voice trembling.

“Yeah?”

“I think…” You take a deep breath, and you think your heart is about to break out of your chest. “I think I want to try too.”

The silence on the other end was electric, and for a moment, you think maybe the call dropped. Then, you hear the unmistakable sound of Jake’s laugh—soft, relieved, and filled with so much warmth that it instantly makes your own heart feel lighter.

“You're driving me crazy, Y/N,” he says, his voice almost breathless, but tinged with humor.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, a smile clear in his tone.

“I hope I am,” you quip, and it makes him chuckle, the sound warm and full of relief. “Guess I’m stuck with your cheesy lines now huh?”

“Stuck with me?” Jake repeats, pretending to sound offended. “No way. I’m stuck with you, Y/N. And trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

His words are so simple, yet so full of promise, and it leaves you feeling a little breathless.

“Good,” you whisper, your cheeks warm. “Because I don’t want you to.”

“Hi Jake,” your voice bright as you immediately pick up his call and see his face appear on the screen, his expression softening when he sees you.

“Hey pretty,” he replies, without missing a beat, his voice laced with a soft fondness that never fails to make your stomach flip.

You roll your eyes, failing miserably to hide the blush rising to your cheeks, “Oh, so now I’m pretty, huh?”

Jake smirks at your words, leaning closer to his phone, “Nah, you’ve always been pretty. Just didn’t have the guts to say it to your face before.”

You groan, dramatically planting your face into your pillow as an attempt to bury the smile on your face, your voice muffled, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Jake.”

“Stop that, don’t hide. Let me see your face,” his tone dips somewhere between playful and pleading, and you give in, lifting your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your red cheeks.

“Cute,” he says with a knowing grin, leaning back against the headboard of his bed.

“Whatever,” you murmur, but the smile on your face remains. “How was your day today?”

“Mmm, it was good,” Jake says, running a hand through his messy hair. “Busy, but good. I forget how loud the fans get each time. But it’s nice. Makes it feel worth it, you know?”

“I’m glad,” your smile grows as you watch him speak, feeling nothing but proud of him. “You deserve all of it, Jake.”

“Stop,” now he’s groaning, throwing a hand over his face to cover his shy expression. “You’re going to make me blush.”

“Mm, looks like you already are, Jakey,” you shake your head, laughing softly.

“Maybe a little,” he admits as he peeks at you through his fingers, his grin boyish and infectious, and you can’t help but laugh again.

The call falls quiet for a moment, but it’s not awkward—just comfortable, like a shared breath. Jake shifts, turning on his stomach and propping his phone up against some pillows to make sure you can still see him.

“I miss you,” he says suddenly, and there’s something raw in his tone, something unguarded that catches you off guard.

Your heart stutters.

“Jake, I literally called you this morning,” you tease, your tone light and sweet. But still, you can’t resist, “I miss you too.”

“You don’t sound convincing enough,” his eyes narrow at you, the pout forming on his lips quickly turning into a small smirk. “Say it like you mean it.”

“Fine,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “I miss you so, so much Sim Jaeyun, that it’s physically painful and I might conbust on the spot if I don’t see you soon. Happy?”

“Very,” he grins into the camera, making your heart beat faster. Ugh. "But please don't combust for me. Who else am I supposed to call every day?"

"Oh, please, you'd survive," you shoot back, smirking. "I'm sure anyone else would be more than happy to fill the spot."

Jake clicks his tongue, shaking his head dramatically. "Nope, no one could keep with you, Y/N. You're a handful."

"Excuse me?" You scoff, mock offense all over your face. "You're calling me a handful? Jake, who's the one that texts me random song lyrics at 3AM and expects me to interpret their deep meaning like it's poetry?"

"Okay, first of all, they are deep," he argues, his grin widening into something boyish and utterly unfair. "And second of all, I know you secretly love it."

You let out a laugh as you roll onto your side, propping your phone against the pillow next to you.

"Maybe I do," you admit with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant despite the smile on your face. "Or maybe I don't. That's up to you to find out."

Jake shakes his head, laughing softly, his eyes twinkling as they linger on your face.

"You really are a handful, Y/N," his voice teases while his eyes remain on you through the screen, as if studying you, and it makes your stomach flip.

You glance away, suddenly feeling shy again under his unwavering gaze, "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" His voice is innocent, his eyebrows lifting in feign obliviousness.

"I don't know—like you're trying to memorize my face or something," you mutter, your cheeks burning.

"Maybe I am," his voice dips, low and soft. "Honestly wouldn't complain if that's the last thing I ever got to remember."

His words hit you square in the chest, and despite how ridiculously corny they are, they manage to take your breath away. You don't know if you'll ever get used to this newly discovered side of Jake—the one that speaks so candidly, so sweetly—like you're the only person in his universe.

But honestly? You love it. You love how he makes you feel, how his words wrap around you perfectly like they were tailor made just for you. But as much as you love it, you fear it too.

Because the more you fall into this feeling, the more you wonder if there's anything solid beneath it. Despite all the soft words shared and sweet nothings exchanged, at the end of the day, deep down inside you can't help but ask yourself if his words, if he, is even yours to begin with.

"Jake..."

"Hmm?" His voice is gentle now, the teasing edge in his voice fading.

"You really mean it, don't you?" You ask, your voice quieter now, the question laced with your vulnerability. "You're serious about...this? About us?"

"Of course I am," he answers without hesitation. His soft eyes stay trained on you as he sits up in his spot in bed, as if to show just how serious he is. He lets out an exhale, as if mentally encouraging himself to continue, "I know we're not...whatever this is, officially yet. But I do know that I like what we have."

He brings his phone closer, a small smile on his face, his expression earnest, "And that I like you. A lot."

You swallow hard, his words settling in your chest in the best way possible. Because despite everything—the doubts, the undefined boundaries—you can't deny the truth of how you feel.

"Me too," you admit, your voice steady and honest. "I like what we have too. And I like you."

You pause, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you feel the remainders of your walls crumbling down, "You make me happy, Jake. Like annoyingly happy."

"Good. Because you make me happy too," His smile spreads wide, the kind that is contagious and could light up an entire room. "Annoyingly happy, if we're being specific."

You roll your eyes again, though you're smiling just as much, "We really are insufferable, aren't we?"

"Oh, completely," Jake nods, his tone playful. He's more relaxed, back to leaning against his headboard as he looks at you with a softened gaze. "We'll figure it out, Y/N. I promise. Whatever this is, or whatever it becomes, I'm not going anywhere. And honestly? I just can't wait to see you. Finally."

"Me too," you perk up, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you bring your phone closer, "It feels like it's been forever. This tour feels so much longer than the other ones for some reason."

"It does," Jake hums in agreement, his eyes thoughtful. "But you know what? I think It's because, this time...I actually have something waiting for me. Something—or someone—I want to come home to. And that makes every day feel so much longer."

You think, at this point, you should check yourself into the emergency department for the sheer amount of times you thought your heart was going to pound out of your body from Jake's words alone.

“You're ridiculous," you laugh, the sound bubbling out so naturally you couldn't hold it back even if you tried. "It's getting kind of out of hand how cheesy you are, Jake."

"And yet," he fires back with a smirk, "you love it. Admit it. I've cracked the code."

"Maybe I do," you tease, repeating your words from earlier as the corners of your mouth tug up into a smile you can't suppress. "But don't let it get to your head."

"Too late," he grins. "It's already there."

Jake [2:15AM] : can I call you? Y/N [2:16AM]: jake isnt it like 2AM for you? Jake [2:16AM]: well…yea but I was thinking about you so…

Your feet are kicking before you even realize, and before you can type up a response, your phone lights up with Jake's name and contact picture.

“Hi,” you answer softly, trying not to let the giddy smile growing on your face take over.

“Hey pretty,” he greets, voice warm and easy as he brings a hand through his messy hair. The lights in his room are off, and the dim glow of his phone screen casts a soft light over his features, making him look unfairly good for someone who should be fast asleep.

“You have two seconds to give me a good reason why you’re here talking to me instead of getting a good night’s rest before your concert tomorrow,” your eyes narrow in mock disapproval as you give him a knowing look.

Jake laughs lightly, “Hey! Okay, hear me out. I couldn’t sleep, so I did something.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You did something? That sounds ominous, I’m scared.”

“Yeah. For you,” he states plainly, leaving you even more confused for a second more before he continues. “I made you a playlist.”

Your brain stalls at how simple he says it—so casual, as if not packed with so much meaning.

“A playlist? You—wait, why?”

Jake shrugs, “I don’t know—I guess I just wanted you to hear what I hear when I think about you. Which, by the way, is a lot. So..”

You blink at the screen, your mouth slightly agape at the boy who's watching you with that lopsided grin that makes it practically impossible to function. You scramble to collect yourself, but the more you try, the worse it gets, and by now, you think he definitely took some secret class on how-to-make-Y/N-completely-flustered.

And aced it.

And of course, he notices—because Jake always notices.

“You okay there?” His voice breaks you out of your overwhelming thoughts, his teasing tone laced with curiosity.

“Define okay,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your face in an attempt to cool down the warmth spreading like wildfire across your cheeks. “Because if it means not feeling like a complete fool over a guy who’s halfway across the world, then no, I’m absolutely not okay.”

Jake lets out a low laugh, the sound affectionate as he leans closer to the camera, the light reflecting off his shining eyes, “If it helps, you’re not the only one losing your mind here.”

“Oh yeah?” you arch an eyebrow, “What’s your excuse, Sim?”

“My excuse?” He tilts his head with a small, exaggerated frown, pretending to think. “Hmm…let’s see…I’m hopelessly into this girl who somehow makes being teased fun, who makes me smile just by hearing my name come out her mouth, and who—“

“Okay! Stop, stop, enough,” your voice strangled as you try to talk through the fit of giggles you couldn’t hold down. “You’re gonna kill me, Jake. Like, actually. I’m not strong enough for this.”

Jake laughs at your flustered reaction, holding up a hand of surrender, “Fine, fine. But seriously, look.”

You hear the sound of faint typing in the background before your phone buzzes with a text containing a link.

“It’s called Songs That Remind Me of Y/N. Creative, right?”

You open the link, and your thoughts are dazed at the sight of the endless playlist of songs. Some new to you, some you recognize—all of them feeling like little pieces of Jake's heart he's handing to you.

"I think it's perfect," you murmur softly, scrolling through the titles, the warmth and appreciation for him now feeling almost too overwhelming.

"Yeah?" Jake's eyes shine with a mixture of pride and hope as he watches your reaction.

"Yeah," you repeat, switching your phone screen back to his face and giving him a genuine smile. "I love it. Thank you, Jake."

Jake hums in response, the look on his eyes gentle as a beat of comfortable silence falls between you two.

"Well, I should probably sleep for real now, but...listen to it when you miss me, okay? Because chances are, I'm probably doing the same."

You pause, letting the weight of his words settle over you—vulnerable, yet undoubtedly honest. "Deal. I'll listen to it right now, then."

"Good," his smile grows, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Because I am too. I miss you, too."

You both linger for a moment, neither wanting to end the call just yet, simply enjoying each other's pure, raw presence.

"Sweet dreams, Jake," you finally say, your voice gentle as you slowly let sleep take over.

"Only if they’re about you," he quips, grinning.

You roll your eyes, your chest feeling lighter, "Go to bed, Sim."

"Yes, ma'am," he winks, and with one last fond look, he ends the call, leaving you smiling at your screen like the absolute fool he's turned you into.

"I can't believe you're finally coming back tomorrow," you murmur into the phone, your voice soft but buzzing with excitement as you take in the sight of Jake sprawled out on his bed. The dim glow of his phone highlights just enough of his face to remind you how impossibly cute he is—even with the pillow creases on his cheek.

"I know," Jake sighs dramatically, flopping onto his side. His head sinks into the pillow, and you hear a soft fwump as he shifts to find a comfortable spot. "I just wish I wasn't landing so late. If I could, I'd come see you the second I land. Like, bags in hand, running to your door."

"You'd probably trip and knock yourself out with your carry-on, Jake," you snort but then smile, the imagine of Jake rushing to get to you playing in your head.

"First of all, I'm very athletic," Jake raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Second, that's exactly what would happen, but at least I'd be unconscious on your doorstep, which is still closer to you than I've been in months."

Your heart does a little flip at the sound of the sincerity in his voice as you try to keep your tone casual, "It's okay, Jake. I'm not going anywhere. We'll see each other the next day? If you're free, maybe."

Jake's face softens in that stupidly adorable way he always does when he knows you're just trying to play it cool. "Free or not, I'll find a way. Nothing's stopping me from seeing you, Y/N. Not jet lag, not my schedule, not even my manager if he tries to barricade me in the building."

A giggle escapes you, partly at his sheer determination and partly to cover up the butterflies constantly causing the havoc in your stomach when it comes to him. And Jake, of course, looks all smug, like he knows exactly what he's doing to you. Typical Jake—sweet, determined, and impossibly endearing.

But as much as his words make your cheeks warm, there's another reason why you're holding back your smile.

Because, despite what Jake thinks, you're going to see him much sooner than he expects. All thanks to a message you got earlier from the group's manager:

Y/N! Hope you’re doing well! We all miss you and can’t wait to see you soon! As you know, the boys are returning tomorrow late at night, but the staff and I want to plan a little surprise party at their apartment, they have no idea. The team’s already prepping everything. We’d love for you to come—it wouldn’t be the same without you. 10 PM! See you!

You're practically vibrating with excitement, each passing minute on the call with Jake making it harder and harder to not just blurt it out and tell him you'll be seeing him in less than 24 hours. And, somehow, hearing his sleepy voice on the other side of the call, completely oblivious, just makes it even harder to contain yourself.

Jake's brows furrow as he watches you try (and fail) to suppress your grin, "What's up with you? You're smiling so much, and I'm pretty sure I didn't say anything that funny."

"Me?" You blink innocently, even though your heart skips a beat. But you shrug casually, masking your smile with a feigned yawn. "Nothing's up, you've just been acting too cute tonight. That's all."

"You're lucky you're cute," Jake narrows his eyes at you, but even you can see through the dim lighting the red creeping across his face, "And that I'm tired. Or else I'd call you out for how you're gaslighting me right now."

"Gaslighting?!" You sputter out, breaking out into laughter. "How am I gaslighting you for calling you cute?"

"Because I know you're hiding something—" Jake replies, his pout audible in the way his voice drags. He yawns mid-sentence, the soft sound and the image of his eyes fluttering closed making your heart melt. "—and you're using my sleep-deprived state against me. It's not fair."

"I'm not hiding anything!" You protest, your face one second away from cracking into a guilty smile. "Go to sleep—you're barely holding it together over there."

"Like I'd ever fall asleep on you," he mutters, his voice heavy with drowsiness. "You're way too important for that."

His words hit you like a train, and you have to physically restrain yourself from squealing, burying your face in your pillow before you let out a strangled, "Okay, enough sap for one night, Romeo. Go to bed."

"Mmhm, fine, fine," Jake hums before he yawns again. "Goodnight, pretty. Dream sweet dreams, okay?"

You let out a breath, losing the last remaining bits of your composure at this point—but in the best way possible, of course.

"Goodnight, Jakey. I'll see you soon."

The day flies by in a whirlwind of anticipation and sheer chaos, the emotional hurricane brewing up inside you rooting from one source and one source only.

Because ever since you woke up this morning, every step, every sight, every breath was haunted by one inescapable thought:

Jake.

The morning was a blur of pacing around your room like a Sims character who was glitching after being told to "Go Here", overthinking every possible scenario for how tonight—when you finally see Jake in person—could go down.

Because, really—how exactly do you approach the boy you've been friends with for years, who you've fallen for, in a room filled with people, including yours and his closest friends, all while pretending your heart is trying its hardest to not control, alt, delete itself?

Not exactly something you can Google.

Like, do you hug him? Does he hug you? What if he doesn't hug you? (Unacceptable, you decide, before pacing faster.)

By the time afternoon rolls around, you're about 78% sure you've developed three-and-a-half migraines from the sheer pressure of it all. Not to mention, the borderline illegal amount of caffeine coursing through your veins isn't helping—why did you think drinking four cups of coffee was a good idea? (You didn't. Your brain has officially gone rogue.)

And now, here you are. The buzzing apartment of the boys is alive with the sounds of laughter, the crinkle of party streamers being hung up, and two staff members arguing about where to put the over-dramatically large "WELCOME HOME" banner. You, along with everyone else, await for the signal, passing time by keeping up small conversation with the friends and staff you've gotten to know over the years—all the while you desperately try to keep your nerves from causing a mental crash out right here and now.

Eventually, one of the staff gets the alert that the group has landed and is minutes away, the energy immediately shifting, both in the apartment and mentally. You settle in place in the back of the crowd, near the door but not too near the door—because 1) you're 99.99% sure you're not emotionally stable enough to be front and center, and 2) the staff and camera crew are already hogging the entrance as if this was the world's greatest comeback (and spoiler alert—to you, it really is.)

The lights dim, the chatter fades, and the room hums with anticipation. And meanwhile? Your heart won't. Stop. Pounding.

Any second now.

Your nerves bubble up even more than you thought is humanly healthy, and you're not sure if you're about to a) pass out, b) puke, c) or both.

Simultaneously.

The sound of multiple footsteps echoes faintly in the hallway, followed with muffled voices—one of them the unmistakable sound of Jake's laughter. Your breath catches.

And then the door swings open.

"SURPRISE!"

The boys freeze in the doorway, their suitcases still in hand, the looks of genuine, yet pleasant, confusion plastered on all their faces. Sunghoon's eyes dart to the snacks table, Jay looks like he's deciding whether to laugh or roll his eyes, Sunoo is on the verge of tears, and Jake—Jake looks beautifully, stupidly confused.

Your eyes immediately find Jake's face, like some natural gravitational pull you can't fight, and suddenly it hits you: he's here. In front of you. No blurry video calls, no glitchy Wi-Fi interruptions—just Jake.

It feels surreal, like you're living in a sugar-induced dream that you aren't sure of is real yet or not. Last time you saw him in person, he was merely just Jake, one of your best friends, your go-to guy for bad jokes and late-night rants about life. But now? Now he's Jake—the boy who's somehow become the main character of your life (and brain capacity) over the past five months.

Every memory of your late-night calls, every teasing smile, every time his sweet, groggy voice promised he'd prove himself to you—it all comes rushing back. Like those cheesy montage scenes in a rom-com, except instead of a whimsical romantic song playing in the background, it's the sound of your brain, and heart, screaming WHAT NOW Y/N?!

But then, finally, his eyes land on you.

The moment your eyes meet, you think your lungs give up on life. Breathing? Never heard of it. It's like someone hit the pause button on the entire universe, and you're convinced that the only thing to ever exist is Jake looking at you with that soft, unreadable expression.

But you manage half a second of calm—half a second—before that softness on his face disappears. Just as quickly as it appeared, it's replaced by...something else. Something you can't quite put your finger on. Something you've never thought could exist on his face. A flicker of...conflict? Hesitation? Like he's staring straight at you…but also from miles away at the same time.

His jaw tightens slightly—so slightly only you would notice with how intently you're looking at him—and for a split second, his hands fidgets at his side before he quickly clasps it over the handle of his suitcase. And right as you process it, right as you're about to convince yourself it's just the million grams of caffeine rushing through your blood that's making you hallucinate and see things—

He looks away.

He looks away. As if you're not even standing there, as if he didn't just short-circuit your entire brain. His attention shifts to the nearest staff member, greeting them with a quick nod, and suddenly he's smiling and laughing at something they're saying like nothing just happened.

And just like that, the universe hits the play button again, and you're left standing there—staring, blinking, wondering if the last thirty seconds of your life was, indeed, a caffeine-induced hallucination after all. Surely. Right?

Because Jake definitely didn't avoid you on purpose. Nope. Because that would be insane. Insane, you think to yourself, as the invisible angel on your shoulder continues to whisper into your ear the same sweet words Jake's been telling you the past five months about how much he cares for you, how much he likes you—remember all those times he said it?

Right. Right. Of course, he does. But still, you stand there frozen, trying to ground yourself, even though your hands start fidgeting at your sides anyway. Great. Fantastic. Cool, cool, cool. This is fine.

You mentally curse yourself for not being closer to the door after all, and then, you mentally curse every single person in this room for not magically gaining telepathic powers and knowing that you, personally, were trying to have a moment.

It's fine. You'll find him again. He's just too preoccupied with all the staff members and people to greet. Busy Jake. Social Jake. You're just imagining things. Definitely.

Trying to distract yourself, you glance around the apartment, everything suddenly feeling suffocating. Maybe a snack. Maybe a drink. Maybe a portal to another dimension.

Shaking your head out of your spiraling thoughts, you bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself and turn away from the crowd, quickly settling yourself near the beverage table, pouring yourself a cup of...whatever this is—your mind too cloudy to even bother looking at the sign on the table.

You don't know how much time passes, and frankly, you don't even know if you're fully conscious. Your mind is still living in the past, lingering in that moment where you locked eyes with Jake for the first time in five months, and despite all the overthinking you did this morning of all the possible scenarios that could happen—this was not one of them.

You're about to pour yourself a second drink just to keep your thoughts busy when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Y/N!"

Before you can fully turn around, you're engulfed in a warm hug, the familiar scent of Jungwon's cologne immediately grounding you, "Oh god, I missed you. Took me forever to find you with all these people."

"Jungwon!" You exclaim, a genuine smile lighting up your face despite the emotional tug-of-war in your chest, because, of course, leave it to your best friend to immediately ease your inner panic. You squeeze him back, playfully ruffling his hair as you pull away, "I can't believe they made you grow out your hair. Now you actually look older than me for once."

He stares at you, blinking. "Y/N. I am older than you."

"Literally by a week. We all know I'm mentally older," you deadpan, crossing your arms.

"Okay, I take it back. I didn't miss you after all," he scoffs as you laugh, pulling him into another hug for good measure just to annoy him.

"I'm so glad you guys are back," you say as Jungwon grabs the drink in your hand and takes a sip himself as he listens to you. "I was dying of boredom without you guys."

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, "Uh-huh. Definitely didn't sound like boredom all those nights you called Jake at 2AM."

You freeze. Oh. Great. The one topic you were trying to avoid (how you were going to avoid it—given you're at his literal apartment, with his literal group members, and literal staff members that all work for him—you're not sure. Avoidance was a doomed plan from the start, I fear).

But before you could answer, Jungwon continues, "So...are you guys, like, a thing now? I know you guys were just talking this whole time, but now that we're back, are you guys gonna be in a relationship and all that stuff? Because if so, I need a heads-up. As much I love you both, I don't know if I can stand you two being all couple-y right in front of me—oh, and also—"

"Jungwon."

"—if he hurts you in any way, I swear to god I will not hesitate to—"

"Jungwon!"

He stops, wide-eyed, before flashing you a sheepish smile. "Sorry. But seriously, what's happening? You haven't given me any updates!"

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. Because if he had asked you yesterday—or even an hour ago—you would've been able to answer confidently. But now? After Jake's apparent Olympic-level avoidance of you? You're not so sure anymore.

"I...I don't know," you mumble, the words barely audible. Jungwon tilts his head, leaning closer to catch them.

"What do you mean, you don't know? You guys haven't talked about it?" His brows furrowing as he studies your face, clearly picking up on your hesitation in true best friend fashion.

"I, uh, I haven't...seen him yet," you admit, hoping the crack in your voice doesn't reveal the real reason you haven't approached the boy in question. "Everyone's busy, and I didn't want to get in the way."

Jungwon gives you a look like you just said the earth is flat.

"Get in the way? Y/N, you're insane. This is the guy who's been counting down the days to see you. If anything, everyone else is in his way."

You give him a helpless shrug, but Jungwon isn't having it. He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, pointing across the room to one of the other snack tables past the crowds of people.

"Look. He's right there. Alone. Perfectly free to talk to you. Go."

Your eyes land on Jake, back facing you and Jungwon, casually scooping chips into a bowl. You hesitate, scanning his relaxed posture, and the knot in your stomach tightens. Because that's exactly the problem. He's perfectly free. And if he's so excited to see you, how come he hasn't spoken to you yet?

But before you can voice your doubts, Jungwon gives you a not-so-gentle nudge forward, "Go talk to him before I carry you over there myself."

And next thing you know, Jake's right there. In front of you. His back is to you still, his eyes scanning the various snacks lined on the table, completely unaware of the full-on mental breakdown occurring just behind him.

This is your moment, you tell yourself, despite the endless alarms going off in your brain. Every single nerve in your body is on high alert, screaming at you to abort mission, abort! But before you can give in to your panic, your hand is already reaching out, lightly tapping his shoulder.

"Jake!"

Jake turns around, and for a moment—a fleeting, fragile moment—you catch it. The way his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. The way his lips part as if they're about to break into that familiar smile you've missed for months. But just as quickly, similar to earlier, it vanishes, replaced by that flicker of hesitation, and it's enough to make your breath catch.

"Y/N."

Your name on his lips used to sound like a warm promise. Now?

Now it feels like an afterthought.

His voice is calm, steady—too steady, stripped of every ounce of emotion, and not at all like someone who's been counting down the days to see you. He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the crowd behind you before reluctantly meeting yours, "It's been so long."

Your stomach sinks. That's all he had to say? You were completely wrong. You spent precisely 23 minutes of your morning debating if he was even going to give you a hug—but now? Screw the hug, he won't even give you a full sentence. Something's off, and your mind races to figure out what happened, as if you missed a major chapter of your own life.

Trying to ignore the sharp pang of something lodging itself in your chest, you offer a small smile, hoping to break the tension.

"Are you...okay? I thought...I don't know, I thought you'd be more excited to see me," the words spill out before you can stop them, and you want to crawl into a self-dug hole from how raw and vulnerable you feel.

Jake shifts uncomfortably, glancing at the floor, then at you, "No, yeah, of course I am. I'm just...really tired. The flight, you know. And all this," he pauses to gesture at the environment around you two, "it's a lot."

You stare at him in disbelief, waiting for him to crack—silently begging for some sign of the Jake you thought you knew. But all you get is a shrug.

A shrug.

Suddenly, his words feel like a punch to the gut, let alone the way he can't even fully look you in the eyes. In just those few seconds, the invisible angel on your shoulder—whose voice sounded just like Jake's—whispering those promises into your ears suddenly disappeared with no trace in sight, as if it was never there—as if it was never yours—in the first place. Every late-night call, every whispered promise, every shared laugh.

As if they never belonged to you.

You swallow hard, trying to keep the growing lump in your throat from choking you, hoping your emotional turmoil isn't blatantly obvious to the boy in front of you.

"Right," you murmur, nodding as if his excuse makes perfect sense. But it doesn't. "That's...understandable."

The silence that follows is suffocating. Not the comfortable kind of warm silence you two used to share, but the awkward, unbearable kind that makes you claw at your own skin and makes you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right then and there.

Jake shifts again, and for a moment, his eyes meet yours. There's something there—but before you can grasp it, a voice from the crowd calls his name.

"I—I should go," he mutters quickly, stepping back. His voice is quiet, his tone almost apologetic, but his words feel like he's hammering the nails to your coffin. "I'll...see you later though, yeah?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. He's gone before you can say anything, before you can process his words, and for the second time that night, he leaves you standing there with your heart in pieces and your thoughts in chaos.

For a moment, you swear you're paralyzed. You can't move. Can't breathe. Your vision blurs as every doubt you'd buried for months comes rushing back, screaming in your face louder and crueler than ever. You've never felt smaller, more foolish.

Your heart beats erratically now, fighting against the realization of the truth settling in your chest—a heaviness so suffocating it threatens to take you under. The Jake who stood in front of you just now—guarded, distant, a stranger—was so unlike the boy who had made you laugh until your sides ached, who'd stayed up with you on countless late nights, sharing secrets no one else knew.

The Jake who made promises.

Your mind spirals. Maybe...maybe those promises were never meant to be kept. Maybe they were just words to fill the time.

Maybe you were just someone to fill the time.

Your breath starts to pick up and you're frantically scanning the room, desperate for an escape from your thoughts through any familiar face. Your eyes finally land on Ni-ki and Heeseung casually sitting on one of the couches, their carefree laughter a stark contrast to your inner implosion. You beeline to them, forcing a smile on your face as you plop down beside them.

"Y/N!" Ni-ki grins the moment he spots you, scooting over to make room. "Where've you been hiding? Thought you ditched us for good."

"I've been here,“ you give the boys a small smile, praying they don't notice the way your hands tremble as you sit down, “just...mingling."

Heeseung raises an eyebrow at the faint crack in your voice, but doesn't push further, "Well, we all missed you. Pizza pig-out sesh and games tomorrow? You can tell us everything we've been missing out on."

You laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, but it comes out shaky, your voice tight under the weight of your hidden emotions, "I think it's you guys who need to catch me up."

Ni-ki tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you, "Are you okay? You look...off. What—did someone spill punch on you? Lemme guess, was it Jake?"

At his name, the knife in your stomach twists even deeper, and you look away, hoping they don't notice the way your face falls.

But Heeseung notices. Of course. His gaze sharpens, the playful teasing in his expression replaced with a softened concern, "Y/N...what's going on?"

"I'm fine," you reply a little too quickly, your voice a little too high. You plaster a smile on your face, turning back towards the two boys, concern written all over their faces. "Just tired. Long day."

Neither of them look convinced, but before Heeseung can say anything else, Ni-ki nudges him and gestures towards something across the room.

"Hey...isn't that—"

You follow Ni-ki's gaze, and you immediately wish you didn't.

Because just like that, your world crumbles.

There she is—Jenn.

You're not even wondering when she got here, how she got here, or even why she's here in the first place. No, not even.

Because all that's occupying your mind right now is the way she's there, perched comfortably on Jake's lap on one of the couches in the distance, her arm draped casually over his shoulder.

The way she's laughing freely at something he says, her hand lightly brushing against his as if it's second nature, her fingers briefly pushing a strand of hair away from his face.

The way Jake doesn't even flinch, the way he doesn't pull away.

The way he smiles at her.

That same smile—the one you've spent weeks convincing yourself was yours—now feels like a cruel joke.

And that does it. For the first time that night, despite all you endured, you shatter.

You force yourself to look away, but it's too late. Your chest hollows out deeper and deeper with every passing second, until all you're left with is a final realization:

Maybe you never really had him at all. He was never yours in the first place.

Ni-ki and Heeseung exchange glances before looking at the expression on your face—all the color drained, as if you were merely just a body, paralyzed. Both of them open their mouths, but nothing comes out, clearly unsure of what to say, but you don't give them the chance. You're already standing, grabbing your bag at your side with trembling hands.

"Y/N, wait—" Heeseung starts as both him and Ni-ki stand up with you, but you shake your head, his voice distant and muffled as if he's speaking to you underwater.

"I need some air," you mumble, but you're sure neither of them hear you, your voice barely above a whisper.

Before they can stop you, you're already weaving through the crowd, your vision blurring as you fight the overwhelming urge to break down. You stop at the door, your eyes quickly scanning the cluttered floor for your shoes. For a moment, you think you've made it—escaped the suffocating air and heartbreak clawing at your throat—but a mistake you didn't mean to make stills you.

You glance over your shoulder, and there he is.

Jake's eyes meet yours, and the world comes to a stop. His easy smile slips from his face and is immediately replaced by a flicker of panic, his brows drawing together as if he's just realized something, but you don't stick around to analyze it.

Not when your heart is already in pieces on the floor.

You quickly look the opposite way, fighting the sting of burning tears threatening to spill over as your fingers fumble desperately with the zipper of your coat when you hear a concerned voice from behind you.

"Y/N?" Jungwon's familiar voice cuts through your haze, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "What—where are you going?"

"Home," you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you finally manage to get your coat on, turning towards the door.

Suddenly, Jungwon steps in front of you, a firm frown on his face, "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Talk to me—"

"Jungwon, I need to go," you look up at him as your voice cracks for the nth time that night, feeling Jake's set of eyes on you still, "Please, Won."

He hesitates, clearly confused but more worried over anything else, "Okay, but I'm driving you."

You sigh, shaking your head, "No, it's fine—"

"I'm driving you," Jungwon repeats, leaving no room for argument as he's already grabbing his coat and walking out the door.

Not bothering to look behind you to see if Jake's still watching, you follow Jungwon out to the hallway, the chill of the air feeling like a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you all at once: embarrassment, anger, heartbreak.

You're too caught up in your spinning thoughts to even notice the sound of frantic footsteps behind you until a voice cuts through the silence.

"Y/N."

His voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled hum of music and laughter seeping from the party you should've escaped from a long time ago.

But still, you hear it anyway—because of course you do. Because it's him. And no matter how much you wish you didn't, you'd silence the entire world just to hear that voice.

And you hate it.

You hate how your entire body freezes mid-step, you hate how every nerve within you comes alive at the sound of his voice, you hate how your heart stumbles, as if trying to root itself in the pain you've been trying so hard to outrun.

You turn around slowly, against every ounce of logic telling you to keep walking. And when your eyes land on him—on the raw, desperate, almost broken look on his face—you hate yourself even more.

Because even now, even after everything, your heart still sinks at the sight. And you hate how you give him the power to break you with just one look.

“Can we talk?” Jake asks, his voice low and unsteady as he takes a small step towards you.

From beside you, Jungwon hesitates, his gaze flickering between you and Jake. After a beat, he nods, "I'll get the car. Wait here."

He spares Jake a final look of warning before nudging you for comfort and stepping into the elevator.

The elevator doors close, leaving you and Jake alone in the hallway, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions.

You swallow hard, your throat tight, but you steel yourself, "What do you want, Jake?"

You shift your weight and instinctively cross your arms, a defensive barrier between you and the boy you spent too long letting into your heart. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability in them makes your resolve falter.

He takes a hesitant step towards you before exhaling shakily, running a hand through his hair.

“I—I messed up tonight. I didn’t mean to...," he trails off, his words fumbling, his eyes searching yours in desperation, his heart breaking at the way your tears are a second away from falling over.

"...to completely ignore me all night? Make me feel like nothing?" You finish for him, your quiet voice breaking despite your attempt to stay composed.

"No. God, no. You're not nothing," he says quickly, his voice faltering on the last word. "Y/N, you matter so much to me."

“Well it definitely didn't feel that way,” your voice is barely audible, but you finally look up at him, the hurt finally bubbling to the surface. “After everything you said—promised, everything we talked about…”

"I know, I just—" he hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes a tentative step closer, his movements slow and careful, like he's afraid you'll break if he gets too close. "I was nervous."

"It’s been so long, and I didn’t know what to say, how to act. I wanted to get it right—to make it perfect—but instead, I just—" he stops, dragging another frustrated hand through his hair. His eyebrows knit together in that familiar way that once made your heart flutter, but now only adds to the ache in your chest.

You let out a hollow laugh, the bitter sound foreign even to your own ears, “Well, congratulations, Jake. You managed to mess it up anyway.”

“Please,” he looks devastated, his hands trembling at his sides. “Y/N, please don’t think I don’t care about you. I do. More than you know. I just—I don't know how to do this. I panicked and I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear."

"Then why was...," you look at him, your eyes still stinging from all the unshed tears as you take a shaky breath, “...why was she all over you tonight? Why didn’t you stop her?”

He falters, his shoulders slumping under the weight of your question, “It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t—I couldn’t—”

“You couldn’t,” you echo, the words spilling out in a rush now, each one cutting him deeper. “I should've known. Let me guess, she wants to get back together, right?"

Jake's silence is deafening, and it immediately answers your question. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. The way he looks at you—eyes wide and filled with regret, lips trembling as if searching for the right words—confirms everything you were afraid of.

You squeeze your eyes shut, a shaky breath escaping your lips—a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a choked sob. No matter how hard you try, the wall holding back your emotions cracks under the weight of it all. The doubts you’ve tried so hard to bury suddenly resurface, crashing over you like waves, each one carrying the sting of every insecurity, every fear you’ve ever had about this moment. Your chest feels tight, your heart splintering under the realization that everything you were afraid of might be true.

"Jake, I can't do this," you whisper, shaking your head. "I can't be the person you lean on while you try to figure out what you want."

"No, no—Y/N, I do know what I want," he pleads, his voice cracking as he tries to step closer. "And it’s you. Always been you, Y/N. Everything I said—I meant it."

His words hang heavy in the air, the faint echo of the party music filtering through the cracks in the door and into the quiet hallway. You look away, refusing to let him see the way your tears finally spill over.

"You promised," you let out softly and slowly, through your sniffles. “You promised you wouldn't hurt me. You said you'd prove that I could trust you, that I didn't have to be scared. You knew I was worried, Jake. And you...you hurt me anyways."

"And I swear I meant every word I said. I still do," Jake says, his voice desperate as he shakes his head. He steps even closer, his hand reaching out and brushing against yours, but you pull back before he can close the distance. "You have to believe me. Please, Y/N. You're the only one."

You shake your head again, the tears now freely rushing down your cheeks despite your best efforts, "I—I don't know if I can believe that anymore, Jake. I want to, I really, really do. But tonight..."

Jake’s face falls, the weight of your pain crashing into him all at once. His lips tremble as he struggles to hold himself together, his eyes turning glassy themselves. The sight of you—broken, because of him—cuts deeper than he thought was humanly ever possible. His voice is barely above a whisper, raw and pleading, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I—God, please. Please give me a chance.”

You look at him—at the boy who became your safe space these past few months—and all you feel is the ache in your heart.

"I can't do this right now, Jake," you finally let out through your broken voice as you take a step back. "I think I just need space."

The words hang in the air like a death sentence. His breath hitches as if your words physically hit him in the face, "Y/N..."

Your phone suddenly buzzes, a text from Jungwon letting you know he's outside. You glance down at it, then back at Jake. For a moment, you hesitate, your heart screaming at you to stay—to give him the chance he's yearning for. But your brain knows better.

"I have to go," you murmur softly, as you take a final step back, turning away before more tears threaten to spill all over again. You force yourself to keep walking, fighting the overwhelming urge to look back—to let him pull you into his arms, where you wished so desperately you belonged.

Frozen, Jake watches helplessly as you walk away, his chest tightening with every step you take. Everything feels like it's caving in, regret clawing at him the more he lets you walk further away. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—but the words fail him, silenced by the weight of his own mistakes.

To Jake, the sounds of the party are now far in the distance, drowned out by the pounding in this ears. Instead, the hallway falls into a haunting silence, broken only by the faint echo of your retreating steps—a cruel reminder of what he's just let slip away.

The car ride starts in complete silence, the only sound between you and Jungwon the soft hum of his engine and the faint sound of whatever playlist he was playing in the background. You stare out the window, watching the city lights blur together, your coat clutched tightly under your grasp as if it's the only thing keeping you sane.

Jungwon glances at you out the corner of his eye, his hands steady on the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything at first, but you know him well enough to sense the storm brewing in his head.

"Okay," he finally says, as if on cue, breaking the silence. "Spill."

You don't respond, your eyes still fixed on the surrounding city breezing by you, as if the passing view could somehow erase the memory of him. Your fingers dig further into the fabric of your coat, your knuckles going numb.

Jungwon gives you a few more moments of silence, but when you don't make any sign of responding, he speaks up again.

"Y/N," his voice softens, but the edge of his concern cuts through. "Don't do that thing where you shut people out. Especially me, you know I hate that."

"I'm not—" you start, but your voice wavers, and the lie dies on the tip of your tongue.

“You are," he exhales sharply from beside you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "Look, you don't have to tell me everything, but don't pretend you're fine when you're clearly not."

The words sit heavy in the air as you swallow hard, your throat burning as you finally whisper, "It's stupid, Jungwon."

He doesn't take his eyes off the road, but his tone is firm, "I'm sure if it's got you looking like this, it's not stupid."

You want to argue, to tell him to just let it go, but the hurt pressing down on your chest is too much. The ache in your body threatens to take over again, and you hate it. You hate how the tears form again, how you can still see Jake looking at you like that, like you were breaking right in front of him and he didn't know how to stop it.

Jungwon waits. He doesn't push, because he knows you. He knows you're just hurting, struggling to grasp your overwhelming emotions, so he gives you the time you need. But his quiet patience is unbearable, like he's peeling back every layer of your resolve just by being there, and eventually, you give in.

"It's Jake," you finally choke out, the name tumbling from your lips like a curse.

Jungwon doesn't respond immediately, but you can feel the shift in his demeanor. His jaw tightens, and his fingers flex against the wheel, "I figured as much honestly, after what I saw in the hallway, but what exactly happened, Y/N?"

You shake your head, your voice shaky, "It doesn't matter. I—I just feel so stupid, Won. Like, how could I think..."

You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. Jungwon gives you a softened glance, signaling you to continue whenever you're ready to.

You take a deep breath before you speak up again, "How could I ever think I was good enough for him, you know?"

There's a silence that follows after your words and you hear Jungwon take in a deep inhale.

"This isn't on you, Y/N. This has nothing to do with whether you're enough or not," Jungwon's voice is steady, but there's a firm edge to it now. "Look, I don't want to overstep or anything...and I definitely don't want to vouch for him—especially right now but...are you sure he's not just freaking out?"

You tilt your head over at the boy next to you, "Freaking out about what?"

"You," Jungwon says simply like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"That doesn't make any sense," you start shaking your head. "Why would he—"

"Because you're you," Jungwon interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact as he keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him. "And Jake's a complete idiot, but even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."

You blink, Jungwon's words sinking into all the cracks formed within you, "You really think he cares about me that much?"

“Are you kidding?” Jungwon scoffs, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Y/N, the guy looks at you like you hung his moon and stars. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”

And you don't know what comes over you, but Jungwon's words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the tears you've been holding back come rushing forward, hot and relentless. You cover your face with your hands, your body shaking as the sobs you've been swallowing all night finally make their way out.

Jungwon quickly looks over at you and, without hesitation, glances over his shoulder to pull over to the side of the road, the soft clicking of the hazard lights mixing in with your cries. When he finally puts the car in park, he doesn't say anything and just leans back in his seat, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder—close enough to remind you he's there, but not too much to smother you.

"I'm sorry," you manage to gasp out between sobs, your hands going up to wipe your face as all the overwhelming emotions finally take over you.

"Don't," Jungwon says firmly, "Don't apologize for feeling like this."

You take a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself together as your sobs eventually start to slow down, "I just don't understand. If he cares so much, why does this hurt so bad?"

"I don't think it's about how much he cares," Jungwon sighs, as if carrying your pain alongside you. "Sometimes...sometimes people care so much that they don't know what to do with it. They panic. They overthink. And they mess up in the worst ways because they don't know how to handle what they're feeling."

You look up at him, your face still wet with tears, "So you're saying it's an excuse."

"No," Jungwon replies, quickly shaking his head fervently. "Definitely not an excuse. Jake screwed up, Y/N. Big time. And it's 100% on him to fix that, not you. But—"

He pauses and thinks for a second, his words deliberate, "—it doesn't mean his feelings aren't real. Or that he doesn't care about you."

You look away, glancing down at your hands in your lap, fiddling with the hem of your coat as you take in Jungwon's words.

"It's just feels like...like I'm the only one who got hurt here, Won. Like I'm the only one who..," you trail off, unable to form your thoughts into a coherent sentence, but leave it up to Jungwon to always fully understand you.

"You're not the only one," he says softly. "He's hurting too, Y/N. Maybe not in the same way, and maybe he doesn't deserve any sympathy, but I can see it. I've seen it. Jake...Jake isn't Jake without you. And honestly? That idiot is probably tearing himself apart right now."

Your lips part, but the words don't find you. Instead, you let the weight of Jungwon's words sink in, unsure what to do with how true they may be.

"You don't have to forgive him right now," Jungwon adds after a moment. "Hell, you don't even have to forgive him at all. Honestly, that might satisfy me just a bit. But maybe...maybe you owe it to yourself to hear him out. Not for him, but for you."

You turn to Jungwon, your lips forming into the smallest pout, "But what if it just makes everything worse?"

He gives you a faint, grounding smile, equal parts reassuring and honest.

"Then you walk away knowing you did everything you could—for yourself. And if it does come to that," he shrugs lightly, "we'll figure it out together."

You're quiet for a long moment, the thought of walking away from Jake and everything he means to you terrifying you…but you know Jungwon's right. You owe yourself the chance to try—even if the unknown outcome fails you.

With a shaky breath, you nod, brushing away the last of your tears, "Thanks, Jungwon."

"You're welcome," Jungwon hums in acknowledgement before his lips curve into a small grin, the atmosphere lightening slightly, "but, uh, could you at least use the tissues in the glove compartment before my seats turn into a snot rag?"

You manage to let out a small scoff of disbelief as you roll your watery eyes, "You're the worst."

"Nah," Jungwon replies with a cheeky grin as he shifts the car back into drive, but not before he reaches over to ruffle your hair playfully. "C'mon. Let's get you home."

The knocking at Jungwon’s door comes at the worst possible moment.

He’s halfway through organizing his desk—something he only attempts when he’s too frustrated to sit still—and the last thing he expects to see when he swings the door open is Jake, standing there looking like he hasn’t slept a millisecond all night.

Jungwon makes no sign of saying anything or making a move, just staring at the older boy in question. Jakes shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his messy hair, not used to seeing Jungwon in this sour, expressionless mood.

"Hey," Jake finally says, his voice hesitant.

“What do you want?” Jungwon deadpans, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He knows he sounds harsh, but, frankly, he doesn’t care.

Jake falters for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground, "I...I need your help."

Jungwon's eyes narrow, "With what, exactly?"

He knows what, but he's not letting Jake off that easily. Not after last night.

"With Y/N," your name hangs in the air between them as Jake's voice cracks, and Jungwon clenches his jaw before he lets out a frustrated sigh.

"I don't think you're in any position to be asking me for help right now."

"I know," Jake says quickly, his hands raising in surrender. "I know, okay? I screwed up big time. I—God, I don't even know where to start, Jungwon. I just...I don't want to make things worse."

Jungwon lets out a bitter, humorless laugh, stepping back and motioning his head to let Jake enter his room, "You've already got a good head start on that, I see."

Jake steps inside, awkwardly hovering near the door as Jungwon moves to sit on the edge of his own bed. He doesn't offer Jake a seat, and Jake doesn't ask for one.

"She cried, you know," Jungwon says after a few moments of silence, his voice stone cold. "I had to pull over because she couldn't even hold it together long enough for me to get her home. I've known her my entire life, and I don't think I've ever seen her cry that hard, Jake."

Jake flinches, the words physically hurting him, "I didn't mean to—"

"Yeah, I know," the younger boy cuts him off, his voice sharp, his anger rising on behalf of you. "You didn't mean to hurt her. But you did. And now you're asking me to help you fix it like it's that easy."

"It's not easy," Jake mutters quietly, his hands fumbling with the edge of his hoodie. "Nothing about this...none of it is easy. But I know I messed up, and I—I can't just leave things like this, I can't lose her, Jungwon. I care about her too much."

Jungwon deadpans at his friend, fighting back the urge to scoff in his face, "If you cared about her, you wouldn't have let her walk out of that party looking like her entire world was falling apart."

Jake looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with something Jungwon can't quite name...desperation, maybe. Or guilt. Or both.

"I didn't know what to do," Jake finally admits, his voice still barely above a whisper, as if admitting to himself for the first time, too. "I saw her, and she looked so...broken. And I—I panicked, I didn't know what to do, and by the time I realized, she was gone."

Jungwon leans back, groaning as he runs a hand over his face. The anger bubbling within him hasn't fully faded, but he knows there's something else now—something softer, something that makes it harder to keep his protective guard for you up.

Because he knows Jake isn't lying.

"You don't get to half-ass this, Jake," Jungwon finally says after he thinks to himself. "She's not some random girl you're trying to impress, she isn't Jenn. This is Y/N. If you want to fix things, you have to be ready to own up to everything. No excuses, no backing out. She deserves that much."

Jake nods quickly, his eyes wide and hopeful at Jungwon's slight change in demeanor, “I will. I swear, I will.”

"And don't think she's going to forgive you right away," Jungwon adds. "She's hurt. You have to give her time. This isn't about what you want—it's about what she needs."

Jake swallows hard, nodding again, “I just want to talk to her. To explain. To tell her I’m sorry and—”

His voice cracks, and he looks down, his hands trembling slightly. Jungwon lets out a sigh, his mixed feelings turning more into something closer to pity. Because as much as he wants to stay mad for your sake, he's known Jake long enough to know that he's a good guy—and that his heart is in the right place.

But even more than that, he knows you. And he knows how much Jake means to you, even if you won't admit it, especially not now more than ever.

"You're actually an idiot," Jungwon says after a few beats, his voice carrying a lighter tone now. "But for some godforsaken reason, knowing her, I think she might actually miss you."

Jake looks up from his hands, his eyes searching Jungwon's face for any flicker of doubt, "You really think so?"

Jungwon shrugs, standing up and moving towards his door, "I think you've got a lot of work to do if you want to earn her trust back. But...I think you still have a chance."

Jake doesn't say anything as he follows Jungwon to the door, but the look on his face says enough—there's a new slight look of hope. It's small, but he's clutching onto it like it’s his lifeline.

“You know," Jungwon says when he reaches the doorway. "Y/N’s not the type to let people in easily. She puts up walls—but with you…she let them down. You’re special to her, Jake, even if she doesn’t say it. Don’t throw that away. For her sake, and yours.”

“I won’t,” Jake promises, his voice steady now. “Thank you, Jungwon.”

Jungwon nods at the older boy before giving him a faint smile, "And just so you know, I defended you yesterday. So don't prove me wrong or I'm actually going to deck you."

Jake lets out a weak laugh as he hangs outside Jungwon's door, "Noted. I promise I won't let her down again."

Jungwon doesn’t respond, just closes the door with a soft click, and hopes—for all their sakes—that Jake means it.

Jake [5:12PM]: hi Y/N Jake [5:12PM]: i know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now. and i don’t blame you at all Jake [5:13PM]: but i cant just stay silent and let this sit between us, and i value you too much to not respect you needing space and just show up at your door Jake [5:14PM]: even though it’s killing me to stay away Jake [5:14PM]: after you left the party last night, i went back inside. i told jenn that whatever we had in the past is exactly that, the past. and i swear to you, Y/N, there’s nothing between us. there hasn’t been for a long time. and it’s my fault for making it seem otherwise. Jake [5:15PM]: and as for how i acted…i don’t even know where to start. i fucked up extremely. nothing will excuse my actions and i don’t expect you to forgive me. but i need to apologize properly, you deserve that much. Jake [5:17PM]: please let me see you, Y/N. i don’t deserve it, and i don’t deserve you. but you mean everything to me, and i hate that i hurt you. and i promise, if you let me, i’ll do everything to make it up to you.

You stare at the phone in your hand, the messages feeling like salt to an open wound. The words on the screen begin to blur together as tears prick your eyes, spilling over before you even realize it. You don't bother wiping them away—the sting in your chest too raw, too heavy. Each word feels like Jake is standing right there in front of you, his voice soft and broken, tangled with regret.

You tell yourself to stop reading. You've already gone through the same messages at least a hundred times in the past ten minutes, overanalyzing each syllable as if they hold the answers to all of your questions.

And yet, you can't stop.

You want to be angry. You are angry. Or, at least, you think. Because beneath the flame of your anger that's already threatening to die out? There's an ache you can't ignore—a small, stubborn part of you that refuses to let go to the sincerity in his words, clinging onto the hope that he's telling you the truth.

You mean everything to me, and I hate that I hurt you. I promise, if you let me, I'll do everything to make it up to you.

The ache twists harder, curling into doubt. What if he means it? What if he's telling the truth?

But of course, the fear rises just as quickly. Because what if he's not? What if you let him back in, and it all falls apart again? What if you let yourself believe in him, giving him the second chance he's asking for, only to have your heart shattered worse than before?

And then, there's Jungwon's voice, soft but steady, cutting through the chaos brewing in your mind: "Even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."

Your breath catches.

Because that's the worst part. Knowing that maybe—just maybe—Jake really does care. Knowing that maybe he's telling the truth—and you're the one too afraid to take the risk, ready to build up the walls Jake's managed to get through.

Your phone screen suddenly dims, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. You blink rapidly, wiping at your face, your mind a mess of emotions you can't untangle or describe.

Fear. Hope. Doubt.

And something else—something you're afraid to admit, but you know is unmistakably real.

And it's stronger than the fear churning in your chest—it's something that's pulling you forward.

Your heart pounds almost out of your rib cage as you let out a shaky breath, the weight on your shoulders pressing harder and harder with every second you hesitate. The ache doesn't let up, but neither does your hope.

So you stop thinking altogether, letting your heart take control instead.

You shut your eyes, as if bracing yourself for a crash, take a deep breath, unlock your phone, and let your fingers fly across the screen, each word feeling like a leap off a cliff.

You hit send.

Y/N [5:30PM]: hi jake Y/N [5:30PM]: you can come over

The soft knock at your door startles you, even though you know it’s coming.

“Y/N?”

His voice. Jake’s voice.

Your heart clenches painfully, a conflicting mix of longing and hurt washing over you all at once. It hasn't even been a full day since the party, but the weight of his absence has already hollowed you out, leaving a hole you can't ignore. You know he's the one who caused it—that the cracks in your heart are his doing—but at the same time, the stubborn part of you whispers that he's also the only one who can mend them.

You make your way to the door, your movements hesitant as you crack it open, peek out, and...there he is.

"Hi," Jake says softly.

He's a mess. A beautiful, saddened mess—his hair messy, like he's been running his hands through it all day, his eyes rimmed with the kind of exhaustion that isn't just physical. One hand is buried deep in his jacket, and in the other—

"Flowers?" You ask, raising a brow in surprise.

Jake's ears turn red. "Yeah. Uh, I didn't know if you had a favorite, so I got—"

You open the door wider, revealing the full bouquet—daisies, tulips, roses, all wrapped together in crinkled tissue paper.

"—a little bit of everything," he finishes awkwardly, his voice trailing off, pausing for a second before holding them out to you with a sheepish smile.

Your lips twitch subconsciously, despite everything.

"Jake, you're literally allergic."

His mouth opens, then closes, the redness from his ears now spreading to his cheeks.

"Well, yeah, but—," Jake mumbles, shifting on his feet. "—not, like, deadly or anything dramatic like that."

He pauses, his voice dropping into something softer, more vulnerable, "I just wanted you to have them. That's all."

You feel your insides tighten, the sincerity in his voice getting to you. For a moment, all you can manage to do is stare at him—at the way his eyes are silently pleading, wide and unsure.

You hesitate for a second, then step back and open the door wider.

"Thank you," you say quietly, your fingers brushing against his as you take the bouquet, sending a flicker of warmth through you. "Come in."

Jake hesitates, his eyes searching yours like he's not sure if he's actually allowed to. When you turn away and walk towards your kitchen, he finally steps inside, kicking off his shoes quickly and hovering by the door like he doesn't know what to expect next.

You set the flowers down on the counter, adjusting them carefully before turning back to him. He's still standing there, stiff and uncertain, the distance between you feeling larger than ever before.

"So..." You say, crossing your arms tightly across yourself, shifting your weight as a way to ground yourself—though the lump in your throat makes it feel impossible.

Jake exhales shakily, his hands fidgeting by his sides and gaze darting to the floor before finally landing on you, "I came to apologize. Properly."

You blink at him, expression unreadable, "You already said sorry."

Your voice comes out sharper than intended, surprising even yourself, but the words leave before you can stop them. Jake flinches, just slightly, but he nods, knowing he deserved that.

"Not like I should have," he says, stepping closer, his voice low and careful, like he's afraid you'll run out of your own apartment. "I know I messed up. I hurt you, and I hate that I did. I hate that I made you feel like you weren't enough or that someone else could ever compare to you, Y/N."

Your arms tighten around yourself as if the words might knock the breath out of you as look away, unsure if you can meet the rawness in his eyes.

"Last night," Jake continues, his eyes filling with guilt, "I didn't handle last night right. And not just how I handled Jenn, but I let my own insecurities and stupid fears of being perfect for you get in the way. I let it happen and mess everything up. I let you think that you didn't matter to me, and I will never forgive myself, Y/N."

His words hang in the air, heavy yet sincere, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him as you process his words slowly.

"And I don't expect you to forgive me either, Y/N," Jake's voice wavers before he continues, "but I need you to know that I'm so, so sorry. No excuses. For all of it—for making you feel like anything less than everything, for making you feel like you weren't my first choice. Because you are. You're my only, Y/N."

His words hit you with a force that crashes over the walls you tried so desperately to build. They're overwhelming yet tender, like rediscovering a piece of yourself you hadn't even realized you lost. And you want to let them comfort you, you do. But the pain from last night lingers deep down, reminding you of why you built those walls in the first place.

For a moment, the silence stretches on longer than you intend, the weight of his words settling in the air between you. Jake doesn't look away though—his gaze unwavering, vulnerable, and raw.

As though he's laid himself bare before you, giving you the power to either accept or shatter him completely.

When you finally find your voice, it trembles despite your best efforts, "Jake...I don't know if I can just forget what happened."

"I'm not asking you to forget," he says quickly, taking another step closer until there's only a few feet left between you. "I just want the chance to fix us. I can't lose you like this, Y/N."

Your breath catches at the proximity, his presence pulling you in like gravity. The pain from last night tries to claw its way back into your heart—sharp and bitter—but his warmth reminds you of something else that refuses to be ignored.

That flicker of hope that's demanding your attention, screaming at you to just let him in—not just for his sake, but for you.

You take a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. "Jake, I don't need you to...to be this perfect person. I don't need you to prove anything to me."

You pause, pushing past the lump in your throat, "Because since the beginning, I always believed you. And...I think I still do. Even after last night, I still believe you, Jake. No matter how hard I try to."

Jake lets out a breath he thinks he's been holding in for hours, "Really?"

"Yeah," you nod slowly, as if reassuring yourself as much as him. "But I don't need any of your promises or proof or any of that. I just...I just need you as you."

His eyes soften at you as he nods so quickly it's almost desperate.

"And I need you to be honest with me, Jake," you continue before he can speak. "If we do this, I need to know I can trust you. Because I don't know if I can do this...this waiting game anymore."

"You can," he says immediately, closing the distance between you two, making your breath hitch. You can see the way his hands are trembling, the slight quiver in his lips. "You can trust me. No more hesitation. I'm all in, Y/N. This is it for me, you're it."

You search his face for any sign of doubt, any speck of hesitation. But all you find is his sincerity—so hopeful and so real—the kind that makes you want to let him in fully and let your walls crumble all over again.

So you do.

"Okay," you say softly, almost as if you're testing the word.

Jake's eyes widen, the relief and hope flooding his features. Slowly, as if asking for permission, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours tentatively.

"Okay?" He whispers, his voice barely audible to you as his eyes flicker between your hands and your face.

You nod, your own hand turning over so your fingers curl around his in an instinctive gesture that feels so natural it makes you want to scream. The warmth of his touch feels like the first real comfort you've felt in forever, and it's enough to make your resolve slip.

"But," you add softly, your eyes not leaving the way his hand wraps around yours so perfectly, "this doesn't mean everything's fine. We need to talk. We need to figure out where we stand, and where we go from there."

Jake nods again, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, "We will. Whatever it takes, Y/N, I'll do it. I need you to know how much you mean to me and I'll never stop trying to show you that."

You let out a shaky breath as you take in his words, finally looking up from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes, your own slowly filling with the tears you've been holding back.

"You really hurt me, Jake," you say quietly, your voice breaking from the sheer weight of your vulnerability being laid bare.

Jake's face crumbles instantly, guilt etched into every line of his expression. Without hesitation, his free hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb light brushing away the tears that fall, as if he's afraid you might pull away.

Your eyes flutter closed at the warmth of his hand, and despite the emotions raging inside you, you let yourself lean into him. It feels both reckless, yet inevitable, like free-falling and trusting—knowing—he'll catch you.

"I know," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion he can't swallow down. "And I'll spend as long as it takes to deserve you, Y/N. I'll never make you feel like that again."

You nod weakly, and before you can think too much, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into the safety of his chest, his chin moving to rest on top of your head as his warmth envelops you completely.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself break, burying your face into his chest as the tears flow freely, the weight of everything finally breaking free as you let yourself melt into his tight embrace.

It's not perfect. It's not a fix-all.

But as Jake holds you close, whispering quiet reassurances into your hair, you know it's a start.

And a start is all you need.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

epilogue:

“Hi, pretty.”

“Hi, Jake.”

On the other end of the call, Jake lets out a playful scoff. Even with the slight lag, you can see his lips twitch into that familiar pout—the one that still gives you butterflies, no matter how many times you've see it now, even a year later.

“After all we’ve been through, you still won’t give me a cute pet name?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin, “What do you want me to say? Hi, my handsome, perfect, kindest, funniest, boyfriend in the whole wide world?”

Jake leans closer to the camera, his expression completely serious as if you should already know his answer, "...Yes."

Giggles burst out of you, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re too cute to be doing all that, Jake. Pick a struggle.”

He clutches his chest dramatically, “You know, what? You’re my struggle—I fly across time zones, run on three hours of sleep, and you still won’t give me a crumb of your affection?”

“You’re exhausting.”

“And yet…,” Jake trails off with a teasing smirk, his voice dropping into that playful, yet low lilt that still makes your stomach flip to this day. "Here you are, calling me at 1AM in the morning.”

Your cheeks flush as you glance away from the screen, trying to ignore the way his teasing gaze makes you feel, "Don’t' get confused, it's not like I wanted to or anything. I just figured someone should remind you to go to bed or else you'll look like a zombie tomorrow at the fanmeet."

Jake laughs softly, the sound grounding you in a certain way only he ever can. "You're so thoughtful, babe. My number-one hater and number-one fan, all at once. I'm so lucky."

You send him an air kiss, the teasing grin on your face mirrored by the fond one tugging at his lips. He looks at you like he did in that first-ever call way back then—like you're his whole world, and he can't believe you're real.

"How's the jet lag this time?" You ask, steering the conversation to safer ground.

"It's not so bad," he shrugs, despite the clear exhaustion in his voice. "At least this trip is only for a few days. Then I can come back to the comfort of our bed."

You raise an eyebrow, "My bed."

Jake's eyes narrow, "Our bed. Just admit it—you miss me."

You pause. "Maybe. Just a little."

His grin widens, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, the conversation lulling into an easy silence—the kind of warmth that only comes with knowing someone so well.

Finally, you shift under your blanket, getting comfortable as Jake watches you through this screen, his gaze tender, as though memorizing the curve of your smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.

"You should sleep," you murmur, holding your phone closer to your face. The glow of your phone reflecting off your soft features sends palpations to Jake's chest so loud he almost doesn't hear your words.

"Mm, I really should," Jake sighs, though he doesn't move an inch. "I'll talk to you soon, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you hum, your eyes closing at the softness of his voice.

“Sleep tight. I love you,” his says, voice soft and deliberate, making sure you feel every word.

“Goodnight, Jakey,” you tease, letting the smirk creep into your voice, peeking an eye open just to catch his reaction.

Jake groans dramatically, running a hand down his face, “Y/N…not this again.”

You giggle, the fondness within you growing tenfold as you take in his face—the slight pout of his lips, his messy hair, his eyes shining with unwavering adoration for you.

“I said I love youuu,” he whines, dragging out the last word, his lips tugging into the tiniest of smiles, his entire universe reflecting from his eyes.

Finally, you give in, smiling sweetly.

“I love you, too, Jake. You already know.”

And you’ve never meant anything more.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Songs that Remind me of Y/N:

From the first call to forever—you've always been my favorite melody. Yours, Jake <3

"As I Am" – Justin Bieber (ft. Khalid)

"Daylight" – Taylor Swift

"DIE 4 YOU" - Dean

"Psycho, Pt. 2" – Russ

"Heaven" – Bazzi

"Every Kind of Way" – H.E.R.

"Off My Face" – Justin Bieber

"Before You" – Benson Boone

"Sunflower" – Post Malone & Swae Lee

"Pink + White" – Frank Ocean

"No Doubt" – Enhypen <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it all the way, this is for you:

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡♡♡♡♡♡

p.s. i wanted to leave the ending kinda up to interpretation—hence the time skip to a year later..but lowkey what if i wrote short drabbles/scenes of things jake does to gain Y/N's trust again, from small to big gestures etc etc..lmk if that's something anyone would wanna see !!

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list (love you all <3):

(i hope it let me tag everyone!)

@thesassy-mia @ikeulove @renaishun @xylatox @puma-riki @blackberryrains @dreamiestay @junislqve @lamin143 @dreamy-carat @etherealhan @vvenusoncasual @belovedsthings @somuchdard @sumzysworld @mirouie @almondtofu006 @fancypeacepersona @vivimura @hollxe1 @missthang600 @sugarikiz @sanasour @enhamonsterghoul @etherealriki

#──── ✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊ no doubt!#enhypen x reader #enhypen jake #enhypen angst #enhypen #jake sim #enhypen fics #enhypen jake sim #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios

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woniedarlin · 1 day ago

Text

The Price of Perfection

pairing: Academic Rival! Jake x fem! reader

synopsis: You are always first. The one everyone expects to win. Confident, prideful, and untouchable. People admire you, envy you, resent you. But it doesn’t matter because in the end, you always prove them right. Then you go home. And first place isn’t enough. Second is unacceptable. Third is a disgrace. Anything less is failure. But then there’s Jake. Jake, who wins because he loves to. Jake, who has everything you don’t.

And the moment he looked past the perfect image you built, everything began to change.

warnings: This story contains themes of parental neglect, emotional abuse, academic pressure, and self-doubt. It covers on inadequacy, angst, and emotional breakdowns, but also slow-burn romance and comfort. Read at your own risk.

author's note: This story is deeply personal to me. It’s the first time I’ve poured so much emotion into something. If you relate to any part of this, please remember: you are enough. Always. Thank you for reading.

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

The cameras flashed. The medal's weight around your neck was heavier than it should’ve been. Gold, cold, undeserved. Applauses were loud.

You smiled. Of course you did. It was the expression expected of a champion. Graceful, composed, proud. You had practiced it enough times in the mirror, so much so that it no longer hesitated. You let the corners of your lips go upward just right, enough to appear humble but not so much that you seemed arrogant. Enough to sell the illusion that this victory was yours to enjoy.

Your parents stood at the front of the crowd. Their hands clapped the loudest, and their smiles stretched the widest. They shook hands, nodded in gratitude, and took every compliment thrown their way as if they were the ones who had spent sleepless nights preparing. As if they were the ones who had earned this. “We’re so proud,” they had said when your name was announced. “You did it.”

Did what, exactly?

You stood there as the flashes went off, the cheers rang in your ears, and your parents continued to receive congratulations on your behalf. You stood there and dared to look down.

Second place was crying.

Not just the silent kind, not the polite, quiet tears of someone accepting defeat, but the kind that came from deep inside, that cracked a person open. Their shoulders trembled as they looked down at their silver medal, fingers curling around it so tightly you thought it might shatter.

And then there were the others. The ones who had fought, who had given everything, who had wanted this much more than you ever did. Some stood stiffly, disappointment carved into their faces, blinking back the loss with forced indifference. Others stared blankly at the floor, avoiding your gaze because looking at you only deepened the wound.

It didn’t feel good.

It never did.

Taking something that wasn’t yours to take, crushing someone’s dreams just because you could. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel right.

And maybe it wouldn’t have felt so hollow if this had been your dream. If you had wanted this as badly as they did. If you had fought, struggled, and clawed your way to the top because it was something you couldn’t live without. But that wasn’t the case.

You had never wanted this.

But you won anyway.

And that was the worst part of it all.

🪢

The hallway was full of students moving in clusters. Conversations were overlapping, and lockers were slamming shut. Same faces, same voices, same excitement over things that would be forgotten by next week. You walked through the center of it all, and people noticed you without needing to say anything. Whispers followed you, talking about your latest win and how easily you had secured another first-place title. People admired you, but bitterness and jealousy were hidden behind their forced smiles.

“Look who’s finally back from their throne,” a familiar voice called out, loud enough to turn a few heads. A heavy arm slung over your shoulder before you could react. It was Seojin, one of your so-called friends, though that word had lost its meaning a long time ago. He grinned down at you, his smile wide. There was something in his face that made it clear he wasn’t celebrating you.

You scoffed, shrugging his arm off easily, adjusting your bag strap as his touch had thrown off your balance. “What, miss me already?” Your voice was light enough to remind him where you stood in this hierarchy. “You should get used to it. Winners are always busy.”

Laughter spread through the group gathered around you. A few people exchanged glances, nodding as if they agreed with each other, truly believing you were unstoppable. Seojin laughed and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Busy collecting more trophies, huh? I have to say, it must be tiring being the best at everything.”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t know. It comes naturally.”

Immediately, the group reacted with a chorus of “oohs” and chuckles. Another voice joined in. “You looked like you belonged on that stage. I mean, holding that trophy, you seemed made for it.” Jihoon added.

For just a moment, your smile faded a little.

“Made for it.”

Those words should have felt like a compliment but instead felt like a reminder. A cage.

But you couldn’t let them see that. So, you laughed easily, like every other lie. “Of course I did,” you said, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “I make everything look good.”

More laughter followed. More voices joined in. More noise.

You kept up this act because it felt natural now. This confident version of yourself, who never had doubts. This group, these people, this constant game of who could seem the most untouchable. It was tiring.

And none of them were even your friends.

They were here because your name meant something. Because standing next to you made them look better. Because being associated with a winner was better than being another nameless face in the crowd.

Some people called you cocky.

Maybe they were right.

Or maybe you just played the part because it was the only thing you knew how to do.

The moment you stepped into the next hallway, the energy shifted. The laughter, the background noise of your so-called friends. It all faded into something heavier. Because there he was.

Sim Jaeyun, or Jake as most would call, was the person who never treated you like a high-status figure. He didn’t feel any pressure from your name. He was a real threat and didn’t even have to try. While you acted like a confident champion, enjoying victories you didn’t care about, Jake was different. He truly wanted this, and that made things more complicated for you.

Unlike you, he was genuinely passionate. He stayed up late studying, not to keep up his image, but because he loved learning. He was brilliant but never showed off. He made people feel comfortable around him. Your presence was sharp and demanding, while he was warm and easygoing. Your so-called friends stuck to you for your status. In contrast, Jake’s friends liked him for who he was, not his achievements. His parents didn’t take credit for his success. They supported him and celebrated his efforts, not just the results.

You had everything. Yet somehow, he had everything you wanted.

And maybe that was why you hated him.

Or maybe you didn’t.

Maybe you didn’t know what to do with him.

Jake looked up as you walked toward him. His face was hard to read. You both seemed very different. You wore an arrogant smirk, surrounded by people who only stuck around when you won. He stood there relaxed, with his friends laughing at a joke you hadn’t heard.

But you needed to keep up your image.

“You seem pretty relaxed for someone who lost yesterday.” You said.

Jake paused his conversation and looked at you, his friends noticing you too. He met your gaze, and his smile was small and genuine momentarily, not bitter or angry. It made you feel like entering a game without knowing the rules. “And you,” he replied, “look a bit worried for someone who won.”

For a moment, your confidence almost falters. Almost. But you quickly kept your expression smooth. “Worried? Not at all. I barely broke a sweat.” You let out a short laugh and raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, you put up a good fight. I almost thought you had a shot.”

Jake kept looking at you. He didn’t react the way others usually did. Instead, he took his time before responding. “Almost, huh?” He spoke as he was contemplating your words. He studied you, and for once, you felt like the one being examined. “I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms, shifting your weight to show confidence. “Go ahead. We both know how this usually turns out.”

His lips turned into a slight grin, neither a smirk nor a laugh. “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t a challenge or bragging. It was just a simple statement from someone who seemed to believe that the future was unpredictable. For some reason, that feeling shook you more than anything.

People like you were not supposed to hesitate. People like you were not supposed to let doubt creep in.

But Jake Sim had a way of making you feel uncertain.

You weren’t even sure if he noticed.

🪢

The moment you stepped outside the school gates, you were still the person everyone expected.

You smiled, laughed, and stood tall.

Your so-called friends hung around you, stretching out their goodbyes. They gave half-hearted compliments and exaggerated praise about your latest win. You nodded along, pretending their words mattered. You let them talk, enjoying the moment before you walked away, climbed into the waiting car, and left them behind for the day.

As soon as the car door shut, the act ended.

The silence weighed heavily. The outside noise turned into a dull hum and was muffled by the thick glass. Your confident expression finally dropped. There would be no more forced smiles or sharp comments.

Just quiet.

Your older brother, Jay, was already in the backseat, sitting comfortably with his long legs stretched out. He looked calm, as usual. When you settled beside him, he glanced up from his phone and met your eyes. “Hey,” he said, relaxed.

You hummed back, leaning against the seat and feeling your exhaustion set in.

“How was school?” Jay asked. He asked because he always wanted to hear it from you, even if he knew the answer.

“It was alright,” you replied. It was the most straightforward answer.

Jay didn’t respond right away. He studied you momentarily, his fingers tapping his phone, deciding whether to call you out on your lie. In the end, he didn’t press you. He never did.

The car started moving away from the school, and with it, the image you had kept up faded. You watched the students outside continue their laughter and conversations. What felt suffocating just moments ago now seemed far away.

No one at school knew this version of you.

You didn’t speak unless someone spoke to you. You didn’t fill silences with witty remarks or smug comments. You didn’t carry the weight of expectations. You didn’t feel like you were performing.

At school, you were never quiet. You were always loud and talking, making sure everyone noticed you. Being quiet meant giving others space to think and see through you.

But in the car, you didn’t have to fill the silence.

In the car, you could just be you.

So, you let the quiet settle. You relaxed your shoulders. You stared out the window, watching the city blur, knowing you could just be yourself for the next twenty minutes.

Jay didn’t say anything else. He lets you sit in silence and take it in. And that was enough.

🪢

The moment you stepped into the house, you already knew something was wrong. The air was too tense. Too quiet. You barely had time to take off your shoes before your mother called your name. You could tell something was wrong. You always knew when it was.

Your father was already in the living room, which made it clear there would be no discussion. Your mother stood next to him, looking exhausted and grim. “You didn’t sign up,” she said. It wasn't a question or an accusation. Just a fact. They already knew the answer before you walked in.

Your stomach dropped. Of course.

You had tried not to mention the competition and hoped they wouldn't notice when the deadline passed. You thought, maybe for once, they would let it go.

But they didn’t.

“You didn’t even try,” your father said sharply with his piercing gaze. “We had to call them ourselves. We begged them to let you in after registration closed.”

Begged.

That word felt heavy and suffocating. Your well-respected parents had to use their influence and name because you didn't do what was expected. Your mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you know how embarrassing that was? Do you even care?”

“I just won a championship,” you replied. You didn't raise it or show your fatigue, but it was hard not to let it show. “Why does it matter if I skip this one?”

Your father shook his head in disbelief. “Why does it matter?” he repeated, astonished that you would even ask. “Do you think success ends with one win? That one victory is enough?”

Your mother stepped forward, her face showing disappointment and frustration. “Do you realize how many doors this could open for you? How many people would do anything for a chance like this?”

You knew because you had seen those students who wanted it badly. They cried when they lost and studied late into the night, chasing something that was handed to you.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re competing,” your father said firmly. “End of discussion.”

There it was. They made the decision for you, as usual.

Your mother sighed and rubbed her temples. “We already submitted your name. The least you can do is show some gratitude.”

Gratitude.

You swallowed the bitterness rising in your throat.

There was nothing left to say.

So, you nodded. You nodded because it was easier than fighting. Because no matter what you wanted, it never really mattered.

Because, at the end of the day, this was the life you had been given.

And no matter how much you wanted to, you could never escape it.

“I’m sorry,” you said with the words barely escaping past the tightness in your throat.

Your father scoffed, turning away because your apology wasn’t worth acknowledging. Your mother sighed before walking past you, her hand lightly brushing against your shoulder, not as a sign of comfort but as if she were dismissing you.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Because in this house, your choices didn’t matter.

Only the results did.

🪢

Everything in the dining room was arranged perfectly. The food was carefully portioned. It looked beautiful, but it tasted like nothing to you. You sat still, your back straight, moving your fork absently, pushing the food around rather than eating it. The conversation between your parents was casual, even. But you knew where this was going before they even said it.

Then, there it was.

“Jake placed first in the regional math competition,” your father said as he cut into his steak. “I spoke to his father earlier today. Apparently, he not only won, but he beat last year’s champion by a huge margin.”

The muscles in your jaw tightened. You knew better than to look up.

Your mother hummed, sipping her wine before delicately setting the glass down. “I’m not surprised,” she said, dabbing with a napkin at the corner of her lips. “Jake’s always been a hardworking boy. So polite, too. His mother told me he spends extra hours studying every night without being told. He even tutors younger students in his free time.” She sighed, shaking her head, almost wistful.

“You could learn a thing or two from him.”

You knew it was coming.

That didn’t make it any easier to hear.

Your grip on your fork tightened, your fingers pressing into the cool metal. You didn’t lift your head. Didn’t argue. Didn’t say anything at all.

Your father continued, “Jake doesn’t have everything handed to him,” he said, placing his knife down with a soft clink. “And yet, he’s still doing better than you.”

The words sat heavy in the air, heavier than the food sitting untouched on your plate. Jay, who had been quiet up until now, let out a sharp exhale. He placed his utensils down with more force than necessary, the sound cutting through the tension in the room. “You’re acting like she’s not already winning every other competition,” He spoke calmly, but you could hear a tension in his voice that only you noticed. “Maybe, instead of comparing her to someone else, you should acknowledge what she had done. Instead of acting like it’s never enough.”

Your mother shook her head, seeing what he said was unreasonable. “That’s not the point, Jay,” she said sharply.

“Then what is the point?” Jay shot back. He looked directly at them. “That no matter how much she achieves, it’s still not enough for you?”

Your father turned to him. He didn’t get angry. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said as if that was the end of it. As if that was all that needed to be said.

And just like that, the discussion was over.

There was no room for argument. There is no room for anything.

Your parents continued eating, their conversation turning to something lighter, meaningless, as if the weight of their words hadn’t just settled in your chest like a stone. It was as if they hadn’t reminded you once again that you were still not enough. You forced yourself to take a bite, chewing slowly, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

Jay glanced at you from across the table, his expression softer now, but he didn’t say anything else.

Because he knew, just as you did, that there was nothing left to say.

🪢

Jake didn’t think about you much. Not in the way others did.

To everyone else, you were a name that carried weight, a student who stood at the top without fail. People whispered about you in the halls. Some with admiration, some with jealousy. You had everything. The grades, the reputation, the influence. And you knew it. You walked through the school like it belonged to you, like everyone else was just a step below, trying to catch up.

Jake never had to catch up.

He had always been fine where he was. He worked hard, he did well, and that was enough. He didn’t need to stand on a podium to prove anything. His parents were proud whether he won or not. His friends didn’t care if he was in first place or fifth. His achievements were his, not something for others to measure their worth against.

That was the difference between you and him.

You acted like everything was a competition. Every test, every ranking, every moment you could use to remind people where you stood. It was almost entertaining sometimes. The way you smirked when your name was called first, the way you barely spared a glance at the people below you.

People always assumed the two of you were enemies. The belief that academic rivals are destined to despise each other. But Jake never really hated you.

He didn’t respect you either.

Because arrogance didn’t impress him.

So, when he passed by you in the hallway, watching as you threw an arm around your so-called friends, laughing too loudly, standing too tall. He didn’t feel envy. He didn’t feel admiration.

He just felt nothing.

And if you ever turned your gaze his way, lips twisting into that confident smirk, daring him to try and take your place at the top. He only ever smiled back, easy, unbothered.

Because, unlike you, he had nothing to prove.

🪢

The room was silent except for the clicking of keyboards and the scratch of pens against paper. The weight of expectation pressing down on your shoulders. Your fingers flew across the page, solving, calculating, writing. Each answer had to be perfect. Each step is precise.

You couldn’t afford to be slow.

You glanced at the timer. Two minutes left.

Your heartbeat pounded fast. Your breathing was shallow. You could hear the clock ticking. It's louder than it should be. Your grip on the pen tightened until your knuckles turned white.

One last question.

Your eyes looked at the numbers on the screen. You ran through the calculations in your head, fingers trembling as you wrote them down on the paper.

Something didn’t feel right.

You double-checked. No, no, no. This wasn’t what it was supposed to be. You rewrote the equation, erasing and correcting. The answer wouldn’t come out right. The numbers blurred together, your mind racing faster than you could keep up.

Your hands were sweating.

One minute.

You swallowed hard. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t-

Your hand slipped. The pen streaked across the page, ink smudging. You cursed under your breath, hastily fixing the mess, but-

Thirty seconds.

Shit

Your breath hitched. You were running out of time. You forced yourself to write down the answer, even if you weren’t sure. You couldn’t leave it blank. You couldn’t-

Five seconds.

Your eyes darted to the scoreboard.

Jake’s score was higher.

Your stomach dropped.

No.

The timer beeped.

The competition was over.

Jake had won.

🪢

This is what it feels like.

To be second.

The cameras flashed, but they weren’t for you this time. Your lips twitched, struggling to form the familiar, practiced smile. It was supposed to be easy. You had done it a thousand times before, in every victory and moment you stood at the top.

But this time, you couldn’t.

You stood there, trophy in hand, a step lower than ever. A step below Jake.

Jake, who stood on the podium above you, smiling. Genuine, effortless, like he belonged there. His name was called, his score announced, and the crowd cheered. His parents were among them, their voices the loudest, their pride so clear. His friends clapped, laughing, celebrating with him.

You swallowed hard.

Your eyes looked to where your parents sat.

They weren’t clapping.

They weren’t smiling.

They weren’t doing anything.

Their faces were blank, unreadable, but that only made it worse. It would have been easier if they were angry, if they scolded you, demanded answers, questioned why you weren’t standing where you were supposed to be.

But they didn’t.

They just watched.

And somehow, that silence crushed you more than any words ever could.

You turned back to Jake, forcing yourself to look. He was still smiling, still happy, still surrounded by people who were happy for him.

You had never been jealous of him before.

But now?

Now, you wished you knew what it felt like to win and actually deserve it.

🪢

The medal was cold against his skin. But his heart was warm.

Warm from the embrace of his parents, their arms wrapped tightly around him, their voices with nothing but pride. Warm from his mother’s teary smile as she cupped his face, whispering you did so well. Warm from his father’s hearty laughter, the way he clapped him on the back and said, we knew you could do it, son.

Warm from the cheers of his friends, their voices overlapping, already talking about celebrating, about how Jake had earned this.

It felt good.

Not just winning. But knowing, truly knowing, that he deserved this moment. That the people around him were happy for him, not because of what he had achieved, but because it was him. “Excuse me for a second,” Jake murmured, offering them a smile before stepping away. The main hall was busy with flashing cameras and loud applause. He just needed a breather, a moment to let it all sink in.

But as he walked toward the quieter side of the building, his steps slowed.

He saw you.

And it wasn’t at all how he expected.

Your father stood in front of you, voice low but strict. Your mother was beside him, her arms crossed, her words quieter but no less cruel.

You didn’t look at them.

Your head was bowed, your hands clasped so tightly in front of you that your knuckles had turned white.

Jake stopped in his tracks.

For as long as he had known you, you had never looked like this before.

You, who always carried yourself with that arrogant smirk. You, who always made everything a competition, never settling for anything less than first. You, who always acted like winning was your right.

Now, you looked-

No. You didn’t look like anything at all.

Your face was blank. Your shoulders stiff. Like you had frozen in place, unable to move, unable to fight back.

And then-

Your father exhaled. “Embarrassing.” His voice was something worse than anger. More like disgust. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for us?”

“Second place?” Your mother scoffed. “Do you think that’s acceptable? After everything we did for you?”

Jake clenched his jaw.

It was the way they spoke. Like you had failed them. Like coming in second was the same as losing entirely. Like you were nothing more than a disappointment.

And then it happened.

Your father reached forward, fingers gripping the silver medal around your neck. Without hesitation, without a second thought-

He ripped it off.

The thin ribbon snapped. The medal clinked against his wedding ring, slipping from his fingers-

Into the trash.

Jake felt sick to his stomach

You didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

Didn’t even look at it.

Like it wasn’t even there.

Like it never mattered.

Your parents didn’t wait for you. They turned, walking away, their faces unreadable, like this was routine. Like they had done this before.

And you-

You followed.

Quiet. Expressionless.

Like you weren’t even there.

Jake couldn’t move.

His hands tightened into fists. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

Was this… normal for you?

Had this been happening every time you lost?

No. Jake knew you. He knew your pride, your arrogance, the way you carried yourself with confidence.

But was it ever real?

Jake had never questioned what was behind your smirks, your constant need to be first.

Not until now.

🪢

Your bedroom was dark. You sat at the edge of your bed, staring at nothing.

You should be crying.

Shouldn’t you?

But you felt nothing.

Not anger. Not sadness. Not even disappointment.

Just… numbness.

Jay knelt in front of you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. His warmth covered your skin, but it didn’t reach the coldness inside. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, like he always did when things felt too heavy, when you came home and locked yourself away, and when the weight of expectations became too much to carry alone.

His embrace was the only thing tethering you to reality.

And it hurt.

Because Jay was all you had.

The only person who saw you for more than just a name. The only person who didn’t care if you were first or second or last.

The only person who stayed.

“…I’m proud of you,” Jay whispered. His voice was calm, but there was something fragile in the way he held you. He was afraid you’d shatter. “No matter what, I always am.”

Your hands clenched the fabric of his sweater, but you still didn’t speak.

Because what was there to say?

That you never wanted any of this?

That winning had never been your dream?

That you were tired. So, so tired of being the person everyone expected you to be?

That when your father threw your medal away, he wasn’t just throwing away an award. He was throwing away you.

Jay pulled back slightly,

“Get some rest,” he murmured. “Please.”

You knew you wouldn’t.

Because even with your eyes closed, the weight of it all would still be there.

Pressing. Crushing.

Never letting go.

🪢

You had been walking through life on autopilot for as long as you could remember.

Winning, smiling, shaking hands, collecting medals like they meant something. Like they made you something. It was a routine now. Just another thing you did because it was expected. Because that was who you were supposed to be. And yet, standing at the podium while staring at Jake Sim of all people, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Exposed.

You weren’t sure why you were still here. The hallway was empty. The competition had ended yesterday. The results had already been burned into everyone’s minds.

Jake won. You didn’t.

Simple as that.

But it wasn’t simple. Not when you could still hear the sound of your father’s voice slicing through your ribs, carving up whatever was left of you. Not when you could still see the silver medal at the bottom of that trash can.

Jake’s voice cut through the silence.

“You don’t look happy.”

Oh, he’s here too.

You scoffed. “You sound surprised.”

“I thought winning was everything to you.”

Your fingers twitched at your sides. “Yeah, well. First time for everything.”

“You don’t seem that upset about losing.”

That made you look at him. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t smug. He was just… watching. Like he had been watching all night.

“What are you getting at, Sim?”

Jake looked at you. “I saw what happened.”

The world around you blurred.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

“Outside. After the competition.” He tilted his head. “I saw your father.”

“I saw him throw your medal away.”

You wanted to laugh. To brush it off. To say so what? But the words wouldn’t come.

He continued. “That wasn’t the first time, was it?”

You swallowed, “Mind your own business, Jake.”

He didn’t back down. “I see you now.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “And what exactly do you think you saw?”

“Someone who’s exhausted.”

A slow, bitter smile appeared on your lips. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But I know what it looks like when someone’s been forced to win their whole life. And I know what it looks like when they finally realize they don’t want to anymore.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, before you could stop yourself, before you could shove the words back down. Your voice slipped out, quieter than you intended.

“What would you have done?”

Jake blinked. “What?”

You clenched your jaw. “If you were me. If you had my parents, my life, my expectations. What would you have done?”

His expression changed. Softer. Almost… sad.

“I don’t know.”

You huffed out a bitter laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

Jake didn’t argue. He just watched you like he was waiting for you to say something real.

But you didn’t.

Because you didn’t know how.

So instead, you did what you always did.

You turned and walked away.

🪢

The sun was beginning to set. Jay had just stepped out of a convenience store, a cold soda in hand, when he heard someone call his name.

“Jay?”

He turned, barely catching a glimpse before an arm wrapped around his shoulder in a quick bro hug. “Jake, man!” Jay grinned, giving him a solid pat on the back before stepping away. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Jake smirked. “Yeah, I was just passing by. You headed somewhere?”

“Nah, just grabbing something to drink before going home.”

Jake glanced at the can in Jay’s hand and grinned. “Still hooked on soda, huh?”

“Still better than your overpriced coffee addiction,” Jay shot back.

Jake let out a laugh. “Fair.”

They found a bench nearby and sat down, cracking open their drinks. “Man, feels like forever since we just sat down like this,” Jay said, taking a sip. “Like when we were younger. Back when drinking soda made us feel cool.”

“Still does,” Jake replied, and they both chuckled.

The conversation was easy. They talked about random things. Old friends, stupid childhood memories, how fast time was passing. But then Jake’s playful energy in his eyes dimmed just slightly.

“Jay… can I ask you something?”

Jay raised a brow. “Since when do you ask permission?”

Jake didn’t laugh this time. His fingers tapped against his can. “It’s about your sister.”

Jay’s smile faded.

“What about her?”

Jake hesitated, just for a second, but long enough for Jay to notice.

“I saw…” Jake paused. “Never mind.”

But Jay already knew.

The way Jake wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Jay set his drink down, voice calm but firm.

“What did you see, Jake?”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He looked like he was deciding whether to speak at all. Jay didn’t rush him. Finally, Jake continued. “After the competition… I saw her with your parents.”

Jay didn’t react, not outwardly. He just kept his gaze on Jake. Jake hesitated, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “I didn’t mean to listen, but I—I heard what they said. What they did.” He clenched his jaw. “Jay, they threw away her silver medal.”

Jay’s expression didn’t change. He simply took another sip of his drink,

“Is that all?”

Jake frowned. “Jay-”

“No, really,” Jay cut in. “Is that all you saw?”

Jake stared at him confused. “What do you mean?”

Jay scoffed, shaking his head. “If you think that’s bad, then you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Jake felt something cold settle in his stomach. He had always known Jay’s family was strict, but this… this was something else.

“How long has it been like that?” Jake asked quietly.

Jay leaned back against the bench. “Since forever.”

Jake’s grip tightened on his soda can. “Why don’t she say anything?”

“Because it wouldn’t change anything.”

Jake hated how casually Jay said it, like it was just a fact of life. Like it wasn’t something that should make someone furious. “I don’t get it,” Jake admitted. “Why did she still… play along? Why act like everything is fine?”

Jay finally looked at him tiredly. “Because that’s the only choice she have.”

Jake didn’t know what to say to that. For the first time, he regretted knowing. Because now, he couldn’t unsee it. He couldn’t forget the way you had stood there silently and not moving, as your father discarded your achievement like it was nothing. He couldn’t forget how you had walked away, your shoulders heavy, your head bowed. Not out of shame, but out of exhaustion.

He had always thought of you as arrogant, competitive, impossible to break.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

“You know, she’s always been quiet,” Jay said suddenly.

Jake looked at him confused. “Quiet?”

Jay nodded. “Yeah. Like, really quiet. Always has been. Since we were kids.”

Jake frowned, trying to piece that together with the girl he knew. “That doesn’t sound like her.”

Jay chuckled. “Yeah, well, that’s because you don’t know her like I do. People think she’s all confidence and competition, but that’s just what she lets them see. You strip all that away? She barely says a word.”

Jake stayed silent, letting that sink in.

“She was always the quietest one in the room,” Jay continued. “Never talked much, never caused trouble. Just did whatever was expected of her. I think people used to forget she was even there sometimes.”

Jake found that hard to believe. “So why the change?”

Jay shrugged. “Didn’t change. Not really. She still doesn’t talk much when she doesn’t have to. Just learned how to play the part when she needs to.”

Jake tilted his head, thinking back to all the times he had seen you surrounded by people, laughing, teasing, always in control of a conversation. And yet, he couldn’t remember a single time you had actually talked about yourself.

“So all that confidence-“

“Not her,” Jay cut in. “But, she’s still quick-witted, still kinda funny when she wants to be. But when she’s not ‘performing’ for people? She’s quiet. Always has been.”

Jay stretched his legs out. “You know, you should at least try to be friends with her.”

Jake raised a brow. “Friends?” He let out a small laugh. “Pretty sure she’d rather choke than let that happen.”

Jay smirked. “Yeah, she’s dramatic like that. But she’s actually really funny when you get to know her.”

Jake gave him a confused look. “Funny?”

Jay nodded. “Like, in a really deadpan way. She doesn’t even try, but it makes it worse because she says stuff so seriously. And she’s good at keeping a straight face too, so people never know if she’s joking or not.”

Jake thought about it. He had seen glimpses of that before, the way you could make a single remark and have people either dying of laughter or questioning their entire existence. But he had always assumed you did it on purpose, as part of the persona you carried.

“You’re telling me that under all that arrogance, she’s just… quiet and funny?”

Jay grinned. “Yep. Oh, and she also eats weirdly. She cuts everything so neatly.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Jay chuckled. “It’s weird. She won’t just bite into a burger. She’ll actually cut it first. Like, who does that?”

Jake laughed.

Jay continued. “But seriously. She’s not as impossible as you think. Just… don’t be an idiot about it.”

Jake stayed quiet. He didn’t know why, but the idea of getting to know you, really know you, stuck with him longer than it should have.

🪢

The wind was pushing against you like it wanted to knock you over. You welcomed it. The cold, the force of it, it was the only thing that felt real right now.

Footsteps.

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“You always come up here when you’re pissed off,” Jake said.

You exhaled through your nose. “And yet you always follow me. Should I start calling you my shadow? ”

“If it gets you actually to talk, sure.”

You huffed a dry laugh. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

Jake didn’t say anything. He just walked forward, stopping beside you, mirroring your posture as he leaned against the railing. For a while, neither of you spoke. “You lost back there,” he said finally. Not taunting, not victorious. Just a fact.

You closed your eyes briefly before reopening them. “Yeah. I did.”

A pause. Then, softly, “And? ”

You swallowed. “And… it’s funny.” Your voice was quieter than you intended. “Because I didn’t even want to win.”

Jake turned his head toward you, but you fixed your gaze on the skyline. You couldn’t look at him. Not now. “Then what do you want? ” His voice was gentle.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

What did you want?

The question pressed against you. You’d spent your whole life running, fighting, and competing. Chasing after a finish line someone else had drawn for you. You were always trying to get ahead and be the best. Not because you wanted it but because you were expected to. So then… what was left when all of that was stripped away?

Jake was still watching you, waiting. But you had no answer.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t respond right away. When he finally did, his voice was quiet. Almost… sad.

“You know, for all the years I’ve known you… I don’t think I’ve ever really known you at all.”

Your throat tightened. You finally turned to look at him.

“Let me help you figure it out,” he said.

And for the first time in your life, you wanted to let someone try.

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

“How?”

It wasn’t arrogant. It wasn’t with the usual sharpness you carried. It was… quiet. Uncertain. Real.

Jake was caught off guard. Maybe he had expected you to scoff, to push him away like you always did. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You were tired.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw as if thinking. “We start small,” he said finally. “We talk. We stop pretending to know everything about each other when we don’t.”

Your fingers loosened around the railing. “And then? ”

“And then we figure it out.”

You stared down at your hands. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not.” Jake studied you. “But it doesn’t have to be impossible either.”

You swallowed. “Why do you even care? ”

He was silent for a long time, long enough that you almost regretted asking. But when he spoke, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it.

“Because I saw you that day,” he said. “With your parents. I saw the way they looked at you. The way they spoke to you. And I realized… you’ve never had someone who listens to what you want, have you? ”

No. You hadn’t.

You didn’t even know what you would say if someone ever asked.

You turned away from him, your grip tightening against the railing again. “I don’t need your pity, Jake,” you murmured, but even you didn’t sound convinced.

“It’s not pity,” he said. “It’s just the truth.”

The truth.

You let out a bitter laugh. “You act like it’s that easy. Like suddenly, because you noticed, something will change. It won’t.” You inhaled sharply. “My parents won’t. I won’t.”

“Then let’s stop talking about them,” Jake said. “Just for a second. Forget them. Forget all of it. Just tell me. What do you want? ”

There it was again. That question.

“I…” Your fingers trembled. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” His voice was steady. “Then we start there.”

You turned to look at him, and for the first time, you didn’t see Jake as your rival. You didn’t see the boy who beat you, who had everything you didn’t. He was just looking at you.

And for once, that was enough.

🪢

The crisp rustle of paper snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Here you go,” your professor said and slid a registration form onto your desk with a smile. “I assumed you’d be competing again this year. You wouldn’t want to waste your momentum, right? ”

You stared at it. The words are printed at the top. Bold, formal, suffocating. It felt heavier than it should.

“Right,” you muttered and forced a smile as you picked it up.

Of course. Of course, they’d assume. Because that was who you were. The star student, the prodigy, the competitor. Even if you hadn’t breathed a word about joining, people just knew. Your parents must have already whispered it to the right ears. You walked out of the classroom, staring at the form in your hands. It felt like holding a contract with no escape clause.

And then, before you could process it, the paper was gone.

“What’s this? ”

Your head snapped up. Jake. Standing in front of you, turning the paper over in his hands.

“Give it back,” you muttered, reaching for it, but he took a step back.

“Are you actually signing up for this? ” His tone wasn’t mocking, but something about it irritated you.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” you said flatly. “They expect me to.”

Jake’s face didn’t change. “And do you want to? ”

You scoffed. “Why do you always ask me that? ”

“Because you never answer,” he said.

Your fingers twitched at your sides. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“It should.”

He was so sure. So convinced. You almost envied him for it.

“Then tell me, Jake,” you said. “If I say no, if I throw this form away and never look back. Then what? ”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll be right there with you.”

“What-”

“If you don’t sign up, I won’t either,” he said. “If you want to walk away, then let’s walk away. Together.”

Is he being serious right now?

“Why? ” you whispered.

“Because I told you. I want to know you. The real you. And if that means letting go of some dumb competition, then so be it.”

You had never felt so seen in your entire life.

🪢

The aluminum can was cold in your hands. You stared at it, confused, before glancing at Jake.

“…Why? ” you asked as your brows furrowed.

Jake only shrugged. Popping open his own can with a hiss. “You looked like you needed one,” he said simply and brought the soda to his lips.

You eyed him for a moment longer before taking a small sip. The carbonation fizzed against your tongue. It gave you something to focus on. Something other than the boy sitting beside you. Jake leaned back against the bench, his arm resting casually along the backrest. “Jay was right,” he said. “You really are quiet.”

You paused mid-sip. Lowering it just enough to glance at him.

“Huh? ” You weren’t sure what he meant by that.

Jake didn’t look at you right away. Giving you space to process his words. “I mean… when you’re not performing. When you’re not playing the role everyone expects. When you’re not competing or surrounded by people who only care about your name.” He finally turned to you and smiled. “You don’t say much at all.”

You pressed your thumb against the can’s surface. “And that’s a problem? ” Your tone was neutral.

Jake shook his head. “Not at all,” he said steadily. “Just… different.” He took another sip of his drink before adding, “I think I like this version of you more.”

That was strange. You weren’t used to being seen like this. To someone noticing the parts of you that existed outside of competition, outside of expectations. You didn’t know how to respond. So, you didn’t. Instead, you took another sip of your soda, letting the taste of artificial sweetness and carbonation sit heavily.

“I’m jealous of you.”

The words left your mouth before you had the chance to second-guess them. They weren’t said with bitterness or anger. Just exhaustion. A quiet sort of truth. Jake didn’t react at first. He was processing your words. “Jealous? Of me? ” His voice held genuine surprise.

You let out a breath while your shoulders sagged. “Yeah.” You turned the can in your hands again, staring at the condensation gathering on the surface. “You have everything I don’t. A supportive family. Friends who actually care. You don’t have to prove yourself every second just to be worth something.”

Jake stayed quiet, listening. He always listened.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be me,” you continued, voice quieter now, but no less raw. “To have people around you, but still feel alone. To have a name everyone respects but never be sure if anyone actually likes you. To constantly win, but never feel like you’re allowed to lose.” You let out a dry chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “And the worst part? I don’t even want to win.”

Jake’s face was showing understanding. Or pity. You weren’t sure which one was worse.

“Then why do you? ” His voice was gentle.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

Because you didn’t have an answer. Or maybe you did, but you weren’t ready to say it out loud.

Jake leaned forward slightly. “I don’t know how you feel,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend I do. But… you don’t have to be alone in it.”

You scoffed. “And what? You’re going to save me? ”

“No,” Jake said simply. “But I can listen. If you let me.”

You had spent so long keeping these thoughts buried. Locked behind walls built too high for anyone to climb. But somehow, he had found his way through.

“Jay is the only thing I have,” you admitted.

Jake stilled beside you. “What do you mean? ” he asked, though you could tell he already had an idea.

“He’s the only one who really knows me. Who doesn’t care about the name, the rankings, the medals. If he wasn’t there…” Your throat tightened, but you forced the words out. “I think I’d have nothing.”

Jake didn’t speak right away. His eyes on you. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “You know that’s not true, right? ”

You laughed bitterly. “It is.” You gestured vaguely. The proof was all around you. “Everyone else only sticks around because of the reputation. Because it benefits them. I see it. I know it. And my parents-” You stopped yourself. “They only care about the success, not the person behind it.”

Jake was quiet for a moment. “That’s not how it should be.”

“Yeah, well.” You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Not all of us get to have what you have, Jake.”

Jake frowned. “And what do you think I have? ”

“Everything.” The word was heavier than you expected. “You have people who support you. People who love you. Who don’t just see you as a title or an achievement. You don’t have to fight for their approval, because you already have it.”

Jake held your gaze. Then, slowly, he set his can down beside him and leaned back on his hands. “I don’t think that means I have everything,” he murmured. “Not if it means you have nothing.” Then, he stretched beside you. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day where you admitted you were jealous of me.”

You shoved his arm lightly. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t. I’ll just make sure to remind you every chance I get.” He grinned. “‘Jake, you have everything,’” he mimicked in a terrible impression of your voice. “‘Jake, you’re so humble, so talented, so-’”

You shoved him harder this time. “I take it back. I’m not jealous of you. I pity you.”

Jake only laughed, catching himself before he could tip over. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips turned upwards despite yourself.

“So,” Jake finally said while tapping his fingers against his knee. “Since we’re being honest today. What do you actually like? You know, aside from crushing your opponents in competitions.”

You raised a brow. “Who says I like that? ”

“You sure act like it.”

“I don’t know.” You hesitated. “I guess… I never really thought about it. I’ve just been doing what’s expected of me.”

Jake hummed thoughtfully. “Well, maybe it��s time you start.”

You glanced at him. It was unsettling how easily he could be both annoying and unexpectedly kind in the same breath. “And how exactly do I do that? ” you asked.

Jake shrugged. “Figure it out. Try something new. Do something for yourself instead of everyone else.” He paused, then smirked. “Like, I don’t know. Maybe getting ice cream with your ‘rival’ after school?”

You narrowed your eyes. “That sounds suspiciously like a date.”

“Call it what you want.” He stood up and stretched. “But I’m getting ice cream either way, and I won’t stop bragging about it if I go alone.”

🪢

After classes, you two went to a nearby ice cream shop. The ice cream was cold against your tongue. You sat across from Jake at a small outdoor table, absentmindedly tapping your spoon against the cup. “You know,” you started with your voice flat, “this is the first time I’ve eaten ice cream without the crushing weight of expectations looming over me.”

Jake snorted. “Wow, what a tragic backstory.”

“It is,” you deadpanned. “Every bite before this was accompanied by the echo of my parents’ disappointment.”

He stared at you for a second before bursting into laughter. “God, you’re so dramatic.”

“Am I? ” you asked, still completely serious. “I think it adds depth to my character.”

Jake shook his head, taking another bite of his own ice cream. “Jay was right. You really are funny in the weirdest way possible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, still expressionless.

“It wasn’t meant to be one.”

“Too late.”

Jake just chuckled, shaking his head. The conversation carried on like that. Quick exchanges, half-serious jokes, and you, testing the waters of what it felt like to simply be. No competitions, no expectations, just sitting here, eating ice cream with the one person you never expected to share something so normal with. And when you looked at Jake, mid-bite, you realized something else…

Maybe this was what it felt like to have a friend.

🪢

For the next few months, something unexpected happened.

At first, it was a small change. Jake started waiting for you after class. The two of you walking together, sometimes in silence, sometimes bickering over the smallest things. He would flick your forehead whenever you made a dry joke, and you would roll your eyes when he got too philosophical about life. Then, there were the study sessions, the shared lunches, and the exchanged texts that started out about assignments but eventually turned into things that had nothing to do with school.

Somewhere along the way, “rival” wasn’t the right word.

You still competed, of course. Old habits were hard to break. But there was a difference now. When you turned in your test papers, you didn’t feel like you had to prove something to him. When you saw his name next to yours on the scoreboard, it didn’t feel like an attack on your worth. Jake had a way of existing so effortlessly, like he belonged wherever he stood, like he had nothing to prove. And for some reason, being around him made you feel like you didn’t have to prove anything either. One afternoon, as the two of you sat on the school rooftop. “I think I’m forgetting how to be competitive.”

Jake looked at you. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. ‘’It’s not.”

🪢

The moment the results were announced, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Third place.

For a second, the world seemed to slow. The crowd cheered, cameras flashed, and the weight of all the past competitions pressed against your chest. But instead of disappointment. There was…

Relief.

You turned your head and saw Jake standing on the highest podium. He was smiling, beaming, and when his eyes met yours, his expression softened. He wasn’t just happy for himself. He was proud of you. And strangely, you felt proud too. The old you would’ve hated this. Would’ve obsessed over the what-ifs, convinced yourself that third place meant failure. But now, standing there, you just smiled. Genuinely smiled.

Jake stepped down from his podium before the ceremony was even over, ignoring the announcer’s call. In a second, he was in front of you, eyes searching, until you opened your arms. And then, he pulled you into a hug. It wasn’t brief or hesitant. It wasn’t a victory embrace, not in the way you used to think about winning. It was steady, warm, something unspoken but understood.

“You did amazing,” he murmured.

You let out a small laugh. “You did better.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point” he squeezed your shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

You swallowed. For once, you didn’t brush it off. You didn’t argue.

You let yourself believe it.

🪢

The moment you stepped out, the harsh light from the parking lot made the situation feel colder than it already was. Your parents were already waiting for you by the car. Their faces were tense. They didn’t even look at each other before they started in on you.

Your father’s voice was low. “You’ve failed again.” His words hung in the air. “How many times do we have to do this? We put you in the best position possible. I thought you’d learned something after last time, but all you’ve proven is that you can’t handle the pressure.”

You stayed quiet, your hands at your sides, unwilling to look up. There was nothing you could say that would make them understand. Not now. Not ever.

Your mother spoke, her voice a little softer but still sharp. “We give you everything, every advantage, and you still can’t manage to bring home the result we expect. You got third place. Third. Why? Because you didn’t care enough. Because you were distracted. Because you-” She stopped herself.

You wanted to say something, anything, to defend yourself. But you knew it wouldn’t matter. Your words would fall on deaf ears. No matter what you said, it would never be enough.

“I thought you’d work harder. But it’s clear now. You don’t care about winning. You never have,” your father added with his voice cold now. Then, there was silence, and it was unbearable. You could feel the tears welling up behind your eyes. You fought them back. You had to. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break. And just as you thought you might snap, you heard a voice from behind you. Calm. Steady. Unshakable.

“That’s enough.”

Jake.

You didn’t turn to look at him, but his presence was like a wall between you and your parents now. He stepped forward, his shoulders straight, eyes hard as he looked at your father. “With all due respect, sir, that’s not fair.” Jake’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. “She tried. You can’t pretend that she didn’t. I’ve seen her work. I’ve seen how much she puts into this. You can’t just tear her down like that because she didn’t win. That’s not how this works.”

Your father’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to being challenged. Not by anyone. Certainly not by someone like Jake. Your mother, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes. “You’re out of line. This is a family matter, Jake. You don’t know what we’ve sacrificed to give her everything she needs to succeed.”

Jake’s eyes softened, but there was still a firmness to it. “I’m not saying you didn’t sacrifice. But you’re hurting her. You’re not giving her a chance to breathe. To be more than just the next win on your list of expectations. She’s not a machine.”

You could feel your heart racing now. This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want Jake to defend you like this, not like this. You didn’t want to be the center of their conflict. But you also couldn’t help the way his words felt so protective and heartwarming. Your father’s voice cracked this time. “You have no idea what it’s like to be responsible for someone like her. You think this is easy for us? ”

Jake didn’t flinch. “I’m sure it’s not easy. But that doesn’t mean you can break her every time she doesn’t meet your expectations. She’s already carrying a burden you don’t understand.”

There was a long silence. Your parents, caught in their own frustrations, didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw your father this quiet. This is uncertain. And yet, it didn’t make you feel better. It made the pain worse, somehow.

“Go to the car.” Your father looked at you.

You didn’t move. Not immediately. You couldn’t. Your feet felt rooted to the ground. Your mother’s voice broke through the fog. “Come on, let’s go.” There was no warmth in her voice. No understanding. Just a demand, as though you were nothing more than a tool they could use to achieve their own goals.

Still, you didn’t move. But then, your father’s gaze hardened, and with a final glance at you, he turned away and started toward the car. Your mother followed without a word. They got into the car and drove off, leaving you standing there, frozen, isolated. Abandoned in the worst way possible.

The car was long gone, and the sounds of your parents’ angry voices were still in your mind. You were left in the cold, standing at the edge of the competition venue, a place that was supposed to celebrate achievement, yet all you felt was an unbearable emptiness. You didn’t know how long you stood there, paralyzed by the weight of it all, until you felt a presence behind you.

Without saying a word, Jake came up behind you and pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a way that was protective and almost desperate. For a moment, you stayed completely still, not knowing how to react. You tried to suppress the tears that threatened to break through, but the more you tried to stop them, the more they came. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to fall apart like this, but the pain, the frustration. It was all too much.

Jake didn’t say anything at first. He just held you. Your body shaking against him. His hand ran through your hair gently. After a long silence, his voice broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

You froze. You weren’t ready for this. You didn’t expect it, not like this, not in this moment of raw vulnerability. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was cry harder, the pain in your chest intensifying with every breath you took. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t need to explain. His arms around you were all the explanation you needed.

And then, in the most fragile, broken voice, you managed to choke out, “I love you too, Jake.”

Your voice cracked as the words left your mouth, the reality of it all hitting you harder than anything else. It wasn’t just the weight of your parents’ disappointment. It wasn’t just the competition. It was everything. The years of trying to prove yourself, the years of hiding your pain, of pretending you were okay. But in that moment, with Jake holding you, all the walls you’d built around yourself crumbled.

You didn’t know how to explain it. You didn’t even know what it all meant. But you knew that in this moment, you weren’t alone.

🪢

It was late in the evening. The sun had long since set. You and Jake were at the same spot, the one you’d found yourselves in countless times before. It had become a place of understanding, where the noise of the world couldn’t reach you, where nothing else mattered except the moment you were sharing. Jake leaned against the railing, one arm crossed. You sat next to him, just a little distance apart, but the space felt non-existent.

It had been a few weeks since everything had changed between you two. Since the “I love you’s.”

“You know,” Jake said, breaking the silence, “I never really thought about how much I’d come to care about you. I think I spent so much time trying to figure you out that I missed how much I wanted to just… be with you.”

You didn’t say anything at first. The honesty in his voice hit you harder than you expected, and for a brief moment, you felt exposed. “I never really let anyone get close,” you admitted quietly. “But… with you, I don’t know. It just feels like it’s easier.”

Jake’s gaze softened. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything with me,” he continued. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be anything you’re not. I only want to be here for you.”

You finally turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. Without thinking, you leaned in, the distance between you two shrinking with every heartbeat. And then, without a word, Jake mirrored your movement, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he closed the space.

When his lips met yours, it was like everything had clicked into place. It wasn’t forceful, nor was it with frantic energy. It was gentle, careful. You pulled back slowly. Jake’s smile was soft, and when he opened his eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he said quietly.

And when you smiled back at him, it was different. It wasn’t the kind of smile you gave anyone else. It was for him. For everything you were beginning to understand about him, and about yourself, too.

🪢

You don’t know why you agreed to meet them. Maybe some part of you still wants to believe they’ll listen this time. That they’ll understand. You sit across from them at the dining table in your family’s home. Your father is the first to speak. “Are you done being distracted? ” His voice is calm but sharp. “We gave you time to sulk after your loss. Now it’s time to get serious again.”

Your mother looked at you with disappointment. “Do you know how humiliating it was for us to see you standing there in third place? After everything we’ve done for you? ”

You don’t flinch. Not this time. “I was proud.” Your voice is steady. “For the first time, I was actually proud of myself.”

Your father scoffs. “Proud of what? Settling for less? ”

“Proud that I didn’t hate myself.” The words come out before you can stop them. And for the first time, silence fills the room.

Your mother’s expression tightens. “Where is all of this coming from? Since when did you start talking like this? ”

You grip your hands under the table. “Since I realized I could breathe without trying to be perfect. Since I stopped believing that my worth was tied to a trophy. Since Jake.” But you don’t say any of that out loud. Instead, you swallow and meet their gaze. “I’m not going to keep chasing something that makes me miserable just because it makes you proud.”

Your father’s hand slams against the table, making the dishes rattle. “You think you know better than us? You think you can just throw away everything we built for you? ”

“You built it for yourselves. Not for me.”

Your mother shook her head. “Ungrateful. We gave you everything. And this is how you repay us? ”

Then your father delivers the final blow.

“You’re making a mistake.” His voice, ice. “And when you fail, don’t expect us to be there.”

Something inside you cracks. Maybe it had already been breaking for years. You stand up. Your chair scrapes against the floor.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

And with that, you turn and walk away.

🪢

The months pass, and so do the expectations that once weighed you down. You’re still you. Still sharp, still competitive when it matters, but you’re no longer fighting a battle just to prove something. There’s no more need to mask everything behind arrogance. No more need to win just to feel like you deserve to exist. People notice the change. You’re quieter now, but not in the way that feels like suffocation. You’re reserved, but not closed off. And most importantly, you’re kinder. Not just to others, but to yourself. Jay is the first to point it out one day, laughing as he nudges you. “You used to act like you had to be the smartest person in every room. Now you actually let people speak.”

You roll your eyes. “I never did that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.” He grins. “But look at you now. I’m proud of you, you know? ”

You pause at that. It’s not something you hear often. But from Jay, it’s real.

You shrug. “Took me long enough.”

And then there’s Jake.

He’s always there, not in a way that feels like an obligation, but in a way that feels natural. Like you were always meant to meet him at the finish line, no matter where it was. You sit beside him on the rooftop as always. After a moment, he glances at you, eyes warm. “So, do you regret it? ”

You tilt your head. “Regret what? ”

“Letting go.”

You don’t answer right away. You think about everything you lost. The approval you once desperately sought. The expectations you’ll never meet. The people you had to walk away from.

But then you think about everything you gained.

You think about Jay’s laughter, about the way he never left your side. You think about Jake, about the way he looks at you as someone he chose to stay with.

For the first time, your answer is certain.

“No,” you say. “Not even for a second.”

Jake smiles. And when he reaches for your hand, you don’t hesitate before taking it.

Because for the first time in your life, you don’t need to win. You don’t need to be the best.

You just need to be here.

Extra Scene:

You and Jake sat on his bed, legs stretched out, backs resting against the headboard. “No, seriously,” Jake said, chuckling as he shook his head. “You were the most terrifying person I’d ever competed against.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You make it sound like I was some villain.”

Jake laughed and looked at you for a moment. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. You knew what he was thinking. A comfortable silence passed between you before he suddenly reached over to his nightstand, pulling open the drawer. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then his fingers brushing over something inside before carefully pulling it out. Your breath caught in your throat.

It was the silver medal.

The same one your father had ripped from your neck that night after the competition, thrown carelessly into the trash.

But here it was, resting in Jake’s hands.

The thin ribbon that had once been torn off had been stitched back on. Messily, but carefully. The fabric wasn’t perfect, the stitches uneven, but it was there.

Whole again.

“You…” You swallowed as your eyes looked up to his. “You took it?”

Jake exhaled a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I saw it in the trash that night. Just sitting there, like it didn’t mean anything.” He paused, turning the medal between his fingers. “But it did mean something. Maybe not to them, but to you. So, I took it.”

You reached out, your fingers brushed over the uneven stitches.

“You fixed it,” you whispered.

Jake smiled. “It was never broken,” he murmured. “It was just… waiting for the right person to hold onto it.”

You looked at him then, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.

Being around him felt like peace.

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jeondesu · 3 days ago

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WISH YOU BACK !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ streamer!jay x youtuber!f!reader ˒˓ exes to lovers 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. smau, fluff, (some) angst, cursing, chaein from purplekiss as faceclaim, some suggestive language, jealousy, kys/kms jokes, i have bad humor srry lol

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — my first smau for enha on this acc, i’m so nervyy >.< this was a request and i rlly thought it was gonna be a short one but no i got way too invested in this fake story i created, i loved this tew much. lmk if you liked this at all, feedback is much appreciated <3

if you already couldn’t tell, i took inspo from the whole pokimane and faze kaysan drama that happened a while ago LOL. i thought the whole premise of it would be a funny idea so yeah :p if you liked this please reblog/comment/like, it rlly helps me out !! ^.^

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cutehoons02 · 22 hours ago

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Summer of desires

*pairing: pervy library student Heeseung x popular rich Girl

*trope: grumpy x sunshine/he fall first, she fall harder

*synopsis: What would happen when the city bookseller as well as your classmate timid with sweet air but with extreme dirty thoughts about you from the first day he saw you for the first time sold you spicy books? Between summer bonfires, stolen kisses in the library, provocations and summer baths what will happen between the popular girl with no wires on her tongue and a slightly perverted nerd?

*tags: A lot of tension, Heeseung is downbad for the protagonist, obsession, fake innocent girl, needy heeseung, needy girl, tease each other, summer vibes, kisses in the private pool, fluffy, masturbation,nipples plays, fingering, touchy girl/Hee, pacifiers, virgin protagonist, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) pet names (sweetheart,baby) (hee)

14.9k (👙)

(English is not my native lanuage)

The seaside town of Jeongdongjin was famous for its crystal-clear sea and fiery sunsets, but in that small community, there was also a place many didn’t notice, except for its dusty windows and the smell of yellowed paper that mixed with the scent of the sea. The Quiet Corner, the town’s bookstore, was a peaceful spot, but it was also a refuge of sorts for Heeseung. He was the typical nerd on campus, but not in a conventional way. Yes, he loved spending time between the pages of books and in front of the console, but he wasn’t just the solitary guy that no one noticed. Heeseung, with his glasses and always pensive expression, was also the type of guy who knew how to flirt with girls, but never really committed. He was an ambivert, so sometimes he seemed distant, at other times perplexing, and sometimes even charming, especially with girls. And with Y/n, he had a very different interest: he was obsessed with her innocence. Y/n, the perfect girl on campus, seemed to have stepped out of a dream. Long, curly hair that sparkled in the sunlight, eyes as clear as the summer sea, and skin so pale it seemed almost unreal. She was the silent queen among the girls, always elegant, flawless, and dressed like a good girl. Her innocence was almost tangible, an aura that made her irresistible to everyone. But Heeseung didn’t just see the angelic Y/n. He saw her as a target. A target to conquer, yes, but not in the way the other guys would. For him, the allure was in stripping away that aura of purity. He knew Y/n was a virgin, and in some way, he found that incredibly exciting. He wanted to see how she would react, wanted to uncover her darker side, the one no one knew. He wanted to ruin her. Heeseung’s thoughts were often fueled by less-than-innocent fantasies. He imagined her, saw her in his mind, stripped of her virginal calmness, shaken, like a butterfly caught in his net. Yet, despite his desire to break her, he always did it from a distance. He watched her from afar, observing every movement, every smile Y/n gave to the world, while he noticed the imperfections no one else could see. He had never really approached her. They had only spoken twice—once at a bonfire party when she had asked him where the bathroom was, and another time when they had bumped into each other in the corridor on campus. Nothing much. Yet, for him, every single exchange had been like an electric shock. Almost enough to send him into a frenzy. It was a late summer afternoon, and the heat outside seemed endless. The cicadas sang, emitting a constant sound that almost seemed to scream, "even hotter." Heeseung was behind the counter, focused on the computer while checking the shipments. The bookstore, now empty, didn’t see many customers, especially since people had started to prefer online shopping. It was one of the few places still holding live readings on the terrace overlooking the ocean, but those events only attracted a handful of enthusiasts. It was the usual boring afternoon when the sound of the door opening interrupted the monotony. A soft, familiar voice, almost blending with the wind, made him look up. And there she was, standing in front of him.

Y/n. Her light dress, a white sundress, fluttered just above her body, revealing the swimsuit underneath. The sun illuminated her, creating a sort of halo around her. Her tanned skin seemed to shine under the afternoon rays. The strap of her dress was slightly slipping down, exposing part of her swimsuit, and Heeseung couldn’t help but notice. A shiver of desire ran down his spine. "It's ridiculously hot outside," said, smiling. Your voice was cool, like the sound of a sea breeze. "I'm tired of being at the beach, so I thought I'd come grab a book. My roommates are dying to get away from university and read a few books under the sun, and they told me to buy some books that are going viral on TikTok." Heeseung snapped out of his daze and, trying to stay calm, responded, "Of course, no problem. What books did you order?" His tone tried to sound natural, but he couldn’t hide the unease that was growing inside him. His gaze once again fell on her dress, the strap slowly slipping off her shoulder, as if it wanted to reveal even more. His mind was immediately overtaken by mischievous images and desires he couldn’t suppress. You pulled out your phone and looked at the titles of the books spotted on her FYP. "So… let's see… A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair, The Deal by Elle Kennedy, and Twisted Love by Ana Huang," you said, smiling innocently, but Heeseung immediately sensed the spark those romantic and “spicy” books evoked. He raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the playful tone, but a small mischievous smile crept across his face. "I didn’t think the perfect, innocent girl on campus would be reading books like that," he said, almost challenging you. There was something in the way you looked at him that made him feel more uneasy, but at the same time, it also made him feel closer to her.

You, of course, blushed immediately. Your cheeks turned bright red as you looked down. "Well," you said with a nervous laugh, "everyone, even people older than me, has stumbled upon spicy romance. It's not that strange, right?" You tried to downplay it, but your face betrayed your insecurity. Heeseung couldn’t hold back a smile as he watched your reactions. The sweetness of Y/n always struck him, but now there was a different vibe. A vibe of complicity that he had never felt before. "A secret, huh?" he said, moving slightly closer to the counter, his smile becoming more intense. "I’m not as innocent as I seem," he added, lowering his eyes onto you with a look that was anything but innocent. His mind began to wander into darker, more sensual territories, imagining what it would feel like to touch your skin under his hands. You looked at him, your crystal-clear eyes now a bit confused, while your lips curved into a shyer, almost uncertain smile. Your sweetness, that same innocence that had always drawn Heeseung to you, made him feel conflicted. He wanted to know that side of you that no one seemed to be able to see. But his mind, growing more crowded with perverted thoughts, couldn’t stop. He could still see the strap of your dress slipping slightly, almost as if inviting him to look more closely. He wanted to pull it down even further, to discover what was underneath. You, unaware of the thoughts Heeseung was having, shifted slightly, trying to appear more at ease. "Yet, it’s not that strange," you repeated, trying not to seem too embarrassed. "After all, I’m part of Gen Z, right? We’ve got our secrets too."

Heeseung looked at you, his smile growing bolder as he observed you with amusement. "Are you sure you want to share them with me?" he asked, his voice now lower as if he were playing with you as if there were an unspoken challenge between you two. You, now almost completely red, felt torn between wanting to run away and wanting to continue that conversation. "I think it’s a secret you should keep to yourself," you replied nervously, trying to distance yourself from the moment that was becoming heavier with tension. Heeseung looked at you with more intense eyes, his smile more knowing than ever. "Maybe one day, when you’re not so… innocent anymore, I’ll reveal it," he said, as a flash of desire crossed his gaze. You, with your innocence mixed with embarrassment, could no longer keep your heart from racing. "Maybe," you replied, trying to joke, but the way Heeseung looked at you made you feel something strange in your chest. It was a tension that grew stronger, like the heat filling the summer air, as both of you felt trapped between desire and embarrassment.

"I didn’t prepare them, but you can easily find them in the BookTok and Romance section, right at the corner of the bookstore," Heeseung said with a smile that hinted at a bit of amusement. His voice was softer, almost as if he was trying to mask the little game he was playing. You smiled excitedly, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, like a puppy eager to run to a playground. "I can’t wait to check them out!" you exclaimed, your tone light and cheerful. "My roommates sent me tons of aesthetic TikTok videos. The fan art was amazing!" As you said that, you approached the counter with a confident step, your white dress moving delicately, revealing your tanned skin that Heeseung tried not to stare at for too long. But he couldn’t help noticing it, especially with your straps slightly slipping down, almost as if inviting him to look. Heeseung gestured for you to follow the path to the corner, where the section was hidden between shelves full of books. As you walked together, his mind filled with thoughts he tried to push away but couldn’t ignore.

"So… what are they about exactly?" he asked, trying to sound casual, although his gaze was a little more intense than before.

"Well," you replied, "in Twisted Love, there’s this incredible chemistry between the main characters. If I’m not mistaken, he’s the best friend of the protagonist's brother with a dark past, and there’s a lot of tension, and... well, let's just say calling it ‘spicy’ is an understatement," you said, laughing with a hint of mischief. "But I love these dark romance dynamics! The spiciest part is when she realizes she wants something more. And then... well, I’ll let you find out."

Heeseung stopped and looked at you, a small mischievous smile playing on his lips. "I figured," he said. "And what about The Deal by Elle Kennedy? Do you like sports? Hockey, right?"

"Hockey!" you exclaimed, a bit surprised by the question. "I don’t know much about it, to be honest. But... I’ve heard it’s one of the best in the series." Your voice was light and sincere, but you couldn’t hide a slight hesitation. "And then... the main characters have this amazing chemistry. She’s a total chatterbox, and he’s a bit grumpy at first, but then they start to discover each other. I think I’ll like it!" you added, trying to sound more confident.

Heeseung chuckled softly. "It is, and one of the spiciest too, if I may say," he said, his tone playful but with a hint of provocation. "It might surprise you." His eyes couldn’t seem to look away from you, from your crystal-clear eyes reflecting the sunset light, from your golden skin that seemed to almost invite him to do something more... intimate.

You became a bit more serious as if trying to understand better what Heeseung was trying to imply. "I think the spiciest one, though, is Twisted Love," you replied without hesitation, with a smile that carried a bit of complicity. "I don’t think you’d fully understand it. Let’s just say... it’s spicier than you think."

Heeseung looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and a hint of challenge in his eyes. "And how do you know all these things?" he asked, keeping his smile. "I didn’t picture you as so… experienced," he added lightly, with that little bit of flirtation he couldn’t hide. You laughed, but the laugh was shy, almost embarrassed. "Well, it’s another secret," you said, giving a little wave of your hand, as if trying to keep that little mystery. "Don’t tell anyone, okay?" Heeseung watched you, his hands in his pockets as he followed you along the shelves. "Another secret, huh?" he said, his smile widening a little, his eyes seeming to never want to look away from yours. Every word coming from your mouth felt like a little game between you two as if you were both trying to discover something more, bit by bit. But in the meantime, his hands were slightly sweating. The tension between you two was palpable, like the warm, dense air that filled the bookstore. Finally, Heeseung took the books you had chosen, one by one, and carefully placed them on the counter. "Here you go," he said, his voice lower now, almost a whisper. "All the books you’re looking for." You moved to pay, and while he did, Heeseung couldn’t stop watching you. His heart was pounding harder. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Your skin, the way the sundress moved delicately on your body, your straps continuing to slip down slowly… It was all so tempting. When you grabbed the bag with the books, you turned to Heeseung and smiled at him with an air of complicity. "See you around, Heeseung," you said with a smile that was as innocent as it was dangerous. Heeseung was stunned, his heart skipping a beat inside him. How did she know his name? She had called him by his name. How was that possible? His thoughts started to whirl, and soon a flood of perverse images filled his mind. "See you…" he mumbled, still confused. "Y-yeah, see you…" he said, trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling. You walked away, leaving the bookstore, while Heeseung stayed there, watching you leave.

It had been a week since the last time he had seen you, and on the bookstore's website, you had written that you would stop by to buy more books. The sky over the coastal town had turned gray a few hours ago, and the streets had been suddenly flooded by a torrential downpour that forced everyone to seek shelter. Heeseung, however, had stayed in the bookstore, nervously staring at the clock on the wall. 5:30 PM. You had told him you’d come by, and he – in a way he wouldn’t even admit to himself – had even switched his shift to be there. He had fixed his bangs at least ten times in the reflection of the computer, carefully chosen what to wear – no glasses this time, a slightly oversized t-shirt, and dark jeans, trendy enough not to look too nerdy – but there was no sign of you. He had almost convinced himself that you weren’t coming when the sound of the bell on the door made him snap his gaze upward. And there you were, soaked, with your hoodie completely drenched on your head, the light t-shirt sticking to your body from the water, and the only piece of clothing still somewhat intact and not fully wet were your light denim shorts, hugging your legs as if they were tailor-made. The wet fabric of your shirt, however, betrayed the secret hidden underneath: the pink bikini you wore was perfectly visible, and Heeseung suddenly felt very, very hot. But then, instead of complaining like most girls would have, you burst out laughing.

"Didn’t you hear the weather forecast? The rainy season has started," Heeseung remarked, crossing his arms over his chest while desperately trying not to look at you too intensely.

You shook the water off yourself, still laughing. "I was a little busy, actually," you said cheerfully, with a bit of cheekiness. "I was studying… or maybe I was too caught up in the spicy books you recommended."

Heeseung’s breath caught for a second. He looked at you, slightly shocked but mostly amused.

"...So you read the spiciest ones?"

You smiled, tilting your head to the side as you dropped your hoodie on the nearest chair. "Of course."

Heeseung swallowed. There was something dangerous in the way you were looking at him like you were playing with him as if you were enjoying seeing how far you could make him crumble. And he wasn’t the type to be cornered easily.

He took a step closer, lowering his gaze slightly. "So tell me, then… which one was your favorite?" he asked, his voice lower, slower.

Your eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. "Mmh... hard to say," you murmured, biting your lip slightly. "But I think Twisted Love was the most... intense."

Heeseung smiled, the more dangerous side of him beginning to show. "Intense, huh?" You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest in an involuntary gesture that almost drove him insane – because the movement highlighted how the wet shirt clung to your body. He looked down, and you caught him in the act. With two fingers, you gently lifted his chin, making him look you in the eyes.

"My face is higher, Heeseung."

He held his breath, holy hell, you were provoking him,

he swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some control. "Do you need a dry t-shirt?" "That would be nice of you," you replied with a smirk. Heeseung sighed, shaking his head as he turned toward the back door. "Come with me, I’ve got one in the locker room." You followed him into the small room behind the counter, where the shelves with the bookstore supplies and lockers for the staff were. Heeseung opened his locker, pulling out a white basketball shirt with a number printed on the back. "It’s the only one I have." You took it, looking at it for a moment before lifting your gaze to him. "It’s huge on me." Heeseung leaned his shoulder against the locker, crossing his arms. "Better that way." You raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Why?" He moistened his lips, looking at you with that intense gaze. "Because at least it covers everything." He challenged you to say something, but you just shrugged, turning your back to him to change. "Heeseung," you called softly. He turned his gaze away. "Tell me." "Don’t suppose you have any shorts, too?" He ran a hand over his face. Holy shit, he was screwed!

Heeseung looked at you for a moment, as if he were processing your request. He did indeed have a pair of basketball shorts in his locker, but giving you his clothes meant imagining you in them. Imagining you without yours, and that simple thought was enough to send him into a spiral. "I only have these basketball shorts…" he finally said, scratching the back of his neck while pulling the garment out. You reached out to take them. "They’ll be fine, I’ll just tighten them with the elastic." He hesitated, still uncertain, before handing them to you. And then, he stood there, dumbfounded. You smiled, tilting your head slightly as a mischievous spark flashed in your eyes. "Do you want me to give you a private striptease?" Heeseung’s eyes widened, and he raised his hands in surrender. "No! No, absolutely—" But the Adam's apple that trembled slightly betrayed every word of rejection. Without saying anything, without even giving him time to process what you were about to do, you moved your hands to your jeans and casually slid them down, letting them fall down your legs. Heeseung swallowed audibly and saw the pink bikini you were wearing hug your hips, accentuating your golden tan. The fabric stretched perfectly over your wet skin, tracing every curve in a way that Heeseung found unfair. His eyes were glued to your legs, to the way the water left little glowing trails on your skin. He should have looked away. He should have. But it was as if his body had suddenly disobeyed him.

Then, you reached out and took the shorts from his fingers, but in doing so, your fingers brushed against his. Without thinking, you guided his hand to your bare thigh. Heeseung felt like he was dying. Shit. He was touching you. Your skin was warm, and smooth, and the contrast with his slightly colder fingers made him shudder. You lifted your gaze to him, amused. "No guy has ever touched me so close to an intimate part." His fingers tightened imperceptibly on your skin. If only you knew the things running through his mind right now. His thoughts were dirty. Too dirty: he imagined the skin beneath his fingers burning against his palm, he imagined his hands slowly moving up— No. Stop. He swallowed again, trying to hold on to some semblance of composure. "Why me?" he asked finally, his voice a little hoarser than usual. You smiled. "Because you look at me differently." Heeseung stayed silent. Differently. Oh, if only you knew how much. His gaze had never been innocent. He had watched you from afar for too long, studying the way you moved, the way you smiled at everyone as if you were untouchable. Yet here you were, with his hand on your thigh, letting him do something no one else had ever been allowed to. He stared at you for a few seconds, then let out a small crooked smile. "Maybe it's better if you don’t know why." A jab. You caught it instantly but pretended not to notice. Or maybe you just wanted to keep playing. With agonizing slowness, you took one of his fingers and guided it along the edge of your bikini, right on your stomach. Heeseung stiffened, and you heard him quietly breathe as his finger slid over your skin, following the fabric's line to your hip. It was the final blow. He shuddered slightly, his fingers trembling as if fighting a primal instinct. But then you moved away, laughing, and slipped into his basketball shorts, tightening the elastic at your waist. Heeseung forced himself to take a step back, running a hand over his face as if to recover. The problem? You still hadn’t taken off your shirt, and he wasn’t sure he could survive the next scene. Heeseung felt the heat rise dangerously along his neck, all the way to his ears. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where to look. It had already been hell watching you take off your jeans in front of him with such casualness, feeling the heat of your skin under his fingers, as if you had intentionally decided to drive him mad. And now this? You had taken off your soaked shirt with no shame, and the pink bikini you were wearing seemed painted onto your body. Damn, perfect.

His jaw tightened as his eyes involuntarily slid down to your chest, full and soft, the light fabric of your bikini clinging too well, revealing your hardened nipples from the cold. Holy. Shit. He cleared his throat, desperately trying to maintain control, but the smirk on your lips made it clear that you had noticed. "What's wrong, Heeseung?" you asked with an overly calculated innocence. "Have you never seen a girl in a bikini?" Something changed in his eyes. You were playing. And if there was one thing Heeseung knew, it was how to change the rules of the game. He suddenly became more serious, a shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. "You're aware you're playing with fire, right?" His voice was lower, deeper. You tilted your head, biting your lip. "Really?" He took a step forward. And you didn’t back away. Another step. And your chest brushed against his. Heeseung knew he should step back, he should stop you, stop himself—but he didn’t. Without thinking, he placed a hand on your back, his warm fingers sliding down the curve of your spine until they found the thin strap of your bikini. Your breath hitched in your throat. He was taller than you, and when he leaned in slightly, his eyes found yours, locked, dark, filled with something that made your legs shake. "What if I wanted to undo it?" he whispered, his fingers dangerously playing with the knot at the back of your bikini. A shiver ran down your spine. Heeseung lowered his voice even further. "What would people think if they walked in and found you with your bare chest, hm?" You smiled faintly. "You would never." A flash of amusement passed through his gaze. "Oh no?" You moved even closer, rising just a little on the tips of your toes, your body perfectly aligned with his. Your chest pressed against his, and Heeseung held his breath. Then you smiled again, tilting your head slightly. "You would never because you want to be the only one to see me naked."

A low moan escaped from Heeseung's lips, so quiet that you almost didn’t hear it. Almost. The tension between you became unbearable, and before he could react, before he could do anything, you rose on your toes again and pulled him closer, your hands gripping the collar of his shirt as your lips found his. You kissed him.

With passion, with desire, with an intensity that Heeseung never expected. And him? He didn’t think twice before kissing you back. Your lips against his were an explosion—it was the third kiss you’d ever given in your life. But with Heeseung… it was different. It was bolder, more intense, more desperate. He was the first to surprise you, because despite his grumpy and sarcastic demeanor, he kissed with a sweetness that made your legs tremble, but at the same time, there was something fierce in the way his lips moved against yours, something necessary, as if he had desired you for too long to hold back. And you? You weren’t any different. Your hands had gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, your chest pressed against his, the heat between you becoming unbearable. You felt the taste of his breath mingling with yours, the faint swipe of his tongue against yours, which made you moan softly into his mouth. That small sound was his undoing. Heeseung grunted slightly, his hands tightening around your waist with more determination, and the kiss became more intense. Deeper. More hungry. His lips moved against yours in perfect rhythm, sometimes slow, sometimes more aggressively, as if he wanted to learn every single angle of your mouth as if he wanted to mark you. His tongue caressed yours again, and you shivered slightly, your chest rising and falling in heavy breaths as his hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer. When you pulled away, both of your breaths were uneven, your chest rising rapidly against his. Your lips were swollen, and slightly reddened, and without even thinking about it, you bit your lower lip, savoring the taste of Heeseung in your mouth. He stared at you. With those dark eyes that seemed to devour you. "Stop," he muttered, his voice low and slightly husky. You tilted your head, confused. "What?" you asked with your usual calculated innocence. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "Stop biting your lip like that, it makes me want to kiss you again. And bite you."

A dangerous smile slowly spread across your lips. With absolute nonchalance, you reached out a hand, your fingers slipping through his soft hair, gently pulling him downward until his breath mingled once again with yours. Your voice became a warm whisper against his mouth. "Then why don’t you bite me?" His pupils dilated. You lowered your chin slightly, bringing his face even closer to your body. "Maybe… here?" you suggested innocently, brushing the edge of your bikini at your chest, the fabric stretching against your skin. Heeseung swallowed. The air around you thickened. "You’re playing with fire," he whispered. You tilted your head with a golden retriever girl look, your usual sweet smile on your lips. "What if I want to burn?" Heeseung clenched his jaw. He hated you. He hated you because he knew you were playing, testing his self-control, wanting to see how far he would go. But most of all, he hated that you were winning. His hand moved slowly, caressing your warm skin as it slid along your side, reaching the thin fabric of your bikini covering your breast, and you held your breath. His eyes found yours as his fingers gently grazed the curve of your chest, almost with reverence. "No one’s ever touched you here, have they?" he asked, his voice low and slightly raspy. You shook your head. He smiled faintly, his eyes igniting with a dangerous kind of desire. "I thought so." And then, slowly, he lowered his head, his warm breath brushing your skin. His mouth barely touched the fabric of your bikini where your nipple had hardened beneath the cloth. The first thing you felt was the heat of his lips, then the slight pressure of his teeth, nibbling gently, almost testing your reaction. A shiver ran through you, and then a sound escaped your lips. A muffled moan, a moan that contained his name. "Hee…" It was his undoing. Heeseung closed his eyes, his thoughts now completely clouded by desire. He had imagined you this many times beneath him. He had imagined you with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and your warm body beneath his. He had imagined you with heavy breath, his name slipping from your lips in that sweet, innocent tone that drove him wild. But now? Now it was real. And damn, you were even more beautiful than he had imagined. Heeseung continued to lick and bite at the small bud still covered by your light bikini, and every time his mouth pushed and licked at the fabric, you arched your back, pulling his hair. You didn’t think that such a simple gesture could make you go wild and crave more, but Heeseung pulled away from your skin with one last bite on the taut bud of your breast, still covered by the bikini, and you shivered, the warmth of his breath making your skin tingle. Instinctively, your fingers tightened in his soft hair, pulling him slightly, and he fully pulled away, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed slowly.

Then he sighed as if trying to regain control over himself.

"Raise your arms," he ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.

You looked at him with eyes still a little dreamy, your lips swollen from the kiss earlier.

"Why?"

He tilted his head, his gaze dropping for a moment to your bikini, still slightly damp. "Because if you stay like this in front of me, I might do something I shouldn’t."

Your skin heated. Despite his authoritative tone, his voice was slightly hoarse, and for a moment, you felt the urgency of his desire.

You bit your lip—which, of course, didn’t go unnoticed—and then slowly raised your arms above your head.

Heeseung slid his large shirt over you with a slow and careful gesture, as if trying not to touch you for too long. But when the fabric settled over your body, a faint smile brushed his lips.

You were beautiful.

His shirt was too big for you, the soft fabric sliding over your body, the sleeves reaching past your hands. The scent of Heeseung enveloped you instantly, a mix of light cologne and something more masculine, more his. You felt your cheeks warm slightly, suddenly shy, and he noticed, of course. Without missing a beat, he smiled sideways, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"So... today I discovered another secret," he said with a playful air.

You tilted your head, curious. "And what would that be?"

He chuckled softly, his voice low and velvety. "...that you’re not so innocent after all."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You looked at him, trying to figure out if he was joking, but in his eyes, there was only amusement—and something darker, more dangerous.

In a spontaneous gesture, you reached out and offered him your pinky.

He raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Pinky swear," you said with a sweet smile.

He stared at you for a moment as if he couldn’t believe that, after everything that had happened, you were still you, the girl who always smiled and seemed to see the bright side of everything.

Then he smiled, shaking his head slightly before intertwining his pinky with yours.

"I won’t tell anyone," he promised.

✦

After a few minutes, you left the private room, and he led you to the romance section of the bookstore.

"I want to recommend something better," he said, running his fingers along the spines of the books.

"Better than what I've read so far?" you asked with a small smile.

He shot you a challenging look. "Let's see... this one is without any spice," he said, handing you a book with a pastel-colored cover and a sweet title.

You took it, slightly surprised. "Wow, so you think I need purer reading?"

He laughed, but didn't respond.

Instead, he grabbed another book and handed it to you, this time with a dark cover and an eye-catching font.

You looked at it more closely.

"Oh my God," you whispered, recognizing the title. "This is super spicy."

He smiled to the side. "But it’s also one of the best stories. Trust me."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you hugged both books to your chest.

Then you turned to him with your usual bright smile.

"Well, see you, Heeseung."

✦ Later, after a warm shower, you slipped under the covers with your hair still slightly damp. The book he recommended was already in your hands, but before opening it, you grabbed your phone. You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip, and then, without thinking too much, you typed his name on Instagram. Follow. The notification popped up on his profile right away. And you couldn't help but think about how stupid you'd been for never noticing him seriously before today.

The days had passed with the same routine: mornings dedicated to studying, afternoons at the beach with friends or relaxing in the pool at your villa, with the breathtaking view of the ocean. Yet, despite everything seeming perfect, there was one constant thought in your mind. Heeseung. You were too embarrassed to go back to the bookstore after what had happened, but at the same time... you wanted to get to know him more. You’d spent more time than necessary scrolling through his Instagram profile, browsing through pictures of him with his friends, images of him playing basketball, posts about his favorite video games, his travels, and his style—always a little effortless but terribly attractive. The more you watched, the more you felt a slight shiver of anxiety because, to be honest, you had never had a real crush on anyone before now. And that scared you, but if there was one thing you were good at, it was coming up with excuses. So, nonchalantly, you wrote to him on Instagram. - “Heyy, I forgot to order three books that were recommended to me! Can you bring them to me? Pls 🥺”

And he, after a few hours, responded: - “You’ll have to pay me double for the home delivery. 😉”

You smiled like an idiot in front of the screen. And now, here you were, lying on a poolside lounger, wearing sunglasses and a new swimsuit, when the voice of your maid made you lift your head. 'There’s a cute guy at the door with a package for you.' You immediately brightened up; your plan was working. You quickly tied the sheer sarong around your waist, leaving your purple bikini with daisies peeking out.

Above, you didn’t bother to cover yourself—just the bikini, sunglasses, and the smile of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. You walked calmly to the entrance, and when you saw him, you couldn’t hold back a small amused smile. Heeseung looked like a confused puppy. His eyes were wide as he observed the entrance of the villa, hands in his pockets, the look of someone who felt slightly out of place. When he noticed you, his cheeks turned a light shade of red. You were winning, Heeseung didn’t know what to say. He’d already seen you in a swimsuit, but now the situation was completely different. Here, in your villa, under the blazing sun, with your skin still damp from the pool and your mischievous smile, you seemed like you’d just stepped out of a forbidden dream, and his thoughts immediately turned dirty. Damn, you were perfect. The daisies on your bikini seemed deliberately placed to distract him, the sheer sarong did nothing but make him even more frustrated, and your damp hair fell perfectly on your shoulders, driving him crazy. “Do you like my villa, Hee?” you teased, tilting your head with an innocent air. He cleared his throat and nodded quickly. “Yeah... yeah, it’s very nice.” He handed you the envelope with your books, but you didn’t take it immediately. “In exchange, I’ll offer you a lemonade.” Heeseung raised an eyebrow, hesitant. “I don’t want to disturb you, I need to go back to the bookstore.” You ignored his excuse and, without giving him time to protest, grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him toward the pool. It was hot, his skin burning under your fingers, and when you reached the pool’s edge, you handed him a glass of iced lemonade and gave him a fake pout. “I’d be offended if you didn’t drink it and tell me what you think.” Heeseung let out a small smile. “Oh yeah? Are you that sensitive to criticism?” “Only the ones that matter to me,” you replied, winking at him. He shook his head, amused, and brought the glass to his lips. Bad, very bad, because you casually watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, sweat running down his collarbone, and the way the sun highlighted every line of his muscular arms. When he finished, he looked at you with a mischievous grin. “I didn’t know you were also talented at making lemonade.” You burst out laughing. “Hee, do you realize what you just said?” He thought about it for a moment, then covered his face with his hand. “Shit, I didn’t mean to—” “Too late,” you teased, stretching out on the lounger, relaxed. He, however, seemed slightly uncomfortable—awkward, out of place. “You can sit here,” you said, pointing to the lounger next to yours. “I told you I have to—” “Heeseung, it’s August 15th,” you interrupted, taking off your sunglasses and looking him straight in the eyes. “No one is going to the bookstore today. And with this heat, are you sure you want to go back there?” For a moment, you thought he’d come up with another excuse, but instead— without thinking twice, he took off his shirt, and damn, Heeseung knew exactly what game you were playing. The problem? He was also really good at playing, but at the same time, he looked at you a little shyly.

You burst out laughing. “What’s wrong, Heeseung? Are you shy to take a swim with me?” He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, but the redness on his cheeks betrayed him. “Your maid is here.” You raised an eyebrow, holding back a mischievous smile. “So?” Heeseung stiffened slightly, avoiding your gaze. That’s when you understood. “Oh my God,” you chuckled, giving his bicep a light tap. “And you’d be the innocent one, huh?” He scratched the back of his neck, biting the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t say I was innocent.” You looked at him for a moment, your smile becoming even more amused. “No, indeed. You’re not innocent at all.” Without saying another word, you untied your sarong and slowly slipped it off, knowing full well that Heeseung’s eyes were glued to you. He swallowed. Damn, you were incredible. You sat on the edge of the pool, letting your legs slide into the cool water, letting the sun kiss your skin. Heeseung didn’t move, he looked petrified. “So?” you pressed, swinging your feet in the water. You didn’t give him time to say anything else. You slid into the pool, diving in with an innate elegance. It was your element, and when you started swimming underwater, you decided to push it further, moving agilely between the bubbles, holding your breath for longer than usual, hiding among the reflections in the pool. When did you surface? You didn’t. And that’s when Heeseung started to worry. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed, and without thinking twice, he dove in. Underwater, you saw him coming towards you—fast, strong. His movements were precise, fluid, and for a second, you got distracted watching him, but then you decided to have some fun. With a sudden flick, you slipped behind his back, and before he could react, you grabbed him and pulled him backward. He opened his eyes underwater, surprised. When he resurfaced, you were there, your face lit up by a radiant smile. “Are you crazy?” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Don’t exaggerate, Hee. I was just playing,” you replied, chuckling. He shook his head, running a hand over his wet face. “How the hell do you hold your breath for so long?” You shrugged. “Like you love basketball, I love everything to do with water.” He looked at you intently, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely fascinated. Drops slid down his face, his wet fringe falling on his forehead, his lips slightly chapped from the sun, and damn—those shoulders, those muscles, everything about him seemed sculpted to perfection. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from staring too much, but it was impossible. Without thinking, you reached out and ruffled his hair, laughing. “You’re gorgeous, Heeseung.” He froze. He cleared his throat, trying to cover up the little cough that slipped out. “What?” You smiled, amused by his reaction. “You heard me perfectly.” He lowered his gaze, biting the inside of his cheek. “No girl has ever told me something like that.” You were surprised. “Really?” He nodded, shyly. “Well,” you shrugged. “I was just telling the truth.” Before he could reply, you dove again, swimming to the other side of the pool with the grace of a mermaid. When you turned around, he was still there. Motionless, staring at you. You leaned against the edge of the pool and shouted, “Are you going to stay there stuck for the rest of your life, or are you going to come closer?” It was like you had woken him up from a dream, his eyes darkened, his expression hardened, and then—he moved. He swam towards you with determination, with an intensity that made you hold your breath. When he arrived in front of you, you found yourself pressed against the pool’s edge, and him? He was so close that you could feel the warmth of his body contrasting with the cool water.

The light touch of your fingers along the contours of his face made him tense for a moment. With the tip of your index finger, you traced the line of his jaw, then moved up to his lips, barely brushing them.

"You know I like them?" you whispered, your eyes locked onto his.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain his usual aloof attitude, but the redness on his ears betrayed him. "What?"

"Your lips," you replied with a mischievous smile.

He cleared his throat, lowering his gaze for a moment. "Ah."

You bit the inside of your cheek, amused. "And do you like mine?"

Heeseung remained silent for a second, then shook his head with a smirk. "Too confident."

"Answer," you pressed, tilting your head slightly.

He stared at you for a few seconds, but instead of answering immediately, he lifted a hand and began to touch you gently.

"Your hair," he murmured, twirling a curly strand between his fingers. "I like it."

He playfully pinched the curl, making you laugh.

"Your eyes," he continued, lowering his lashes as his fingers traced the curve of yours. "Your lashes are long, almost annoyingly perfect."

His fingertip slid down the bridge of your nose. "Your little nose too," he added, tracing its shape with a light, barely perceptible touch.

And finally, he reached your lips. His thumb slowly glided along your lower lip, stopping right at the center.

"Your lips," he said, his voice slightly huskier. "I’d want to kiss them all the time."

A shiver ran down your spine, but you couldn't let him win that easily. You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be unfazed. "And?"

Heeseung smirked.

"Too much attention for just one girl, don't you think?"

You shrugged with a playful smile. "Maybe I deserve it."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head. "Maybe."

And then—he ran a finger along the side of your neck, his touch barely there on your wet skin.

He brought his lips close to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. "Your neck," he murmured. "Because I want to kiss it and mark you."

A shiver shot down your spine, and fuck, Heeseung noticed—but he didn’t stop. His fingers slid slowly along your collarbone, then lower, brushing over the soft curve of your breast.

He barely touched it before pressing slightly, increasing the tension.

"This," he said in a low, deep voice, his touch almost hypnotic. "I’ve already bitten and kissed it."

He lifted his gaze to you, and in his eyes, there was something dark, something possessive.

"But I want to hear you moan my name while I do it again."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Damn.

His fingers trailed lower, moving down your stomach, while his warm breath ghosted over your neck. Then, he reached the edge of your swimsuit—but stopped there. His finger played with the fabric, teasing, waiting. And you realized—he wanted to see how far you were willing to push him.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. "What's wrong, Hee? Did you freeze up?"

Heeseung lifted his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes burning into you.

"Careful, Y/N," he murmured, his voice deep and rough. "You love playing with fire too much."

Your arms wrapped around his neck as your legs instinctively locked around his waist. His breath hitched slightly, his eyes widening—not in shock, but in intrigue. His chest rose and fell faster, as if your touch alone was testing his self-control.

Then, without giving him time to react, you tilted your head and started kissing his neck, feeling his muscles tense under your lips.

"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice a mix of warning and want—but you didn’t stop.

If anything, you leaned in closer, brushing a soft kiss near his earlobe—and that’s when you heard it.

A low, strangled groan escaped his lips as his arms instinctively tightened around your waist, fingers digging into your damp skin.

A victorious smirk played on your lips before you went back to his neck, kissing and lightly biting that one spot you knew was his weakness.

"Hee," you teased, your voice nothing but a whisper. "I like your lips too."

You felt his jaw clench, as if he was struggling to hold himself back, but his hands gripped your hips even tighter.

Then, with innocent mischief, you leaned into his ear and whispered, "Lie down."

He raised an eyebrow, studying you—but you simply took his hand and led him toward the lounge chairs near the pool entrance.

He thought you were the one who wanted to lie down—only for you to push him back gently, making him settle onto the warm chair.

Heeseung looked up at you, his chest still rising and falling unevenly.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You sat on the edge of the chair, the heat of the stone searing lightly against your skin.

"Studying," you replied with a playful smile—before lowering your head and beginning to kiss him.

First on his chest, leaving soft kisses and teasing bites as you traced his skin. Then, you moved lower, trailing kisses along his toned abs, and—damn.

For a bookworm who spent most of his time in the library, his body was surprisingly well-defined.

You looked up at him, biting your lip. "How the hell does a nerd—okay, fine, a basketball-playing nerd—have a body like this?"

He let out a low chuckle, trying to keep his composure. "Did you expect me to be some scrawny guy with glasses and a plaid shirt?"

"A little bit, yeah," you admitted, laughing.

"Library or not, I work out. I don’t spend all my time reading romance novels like you do."

You raised an eyebrow at his little jab, amused.

"Doesn’t seem like you mind," you shot back before kissing him again.

Your lips trailed further down his skin, reaching his navel—and right at that moment, Heeseung tensed up again

"Y/N, stop," he said, his voice lower now, wrapped in a veil of tension.

You stopped, lifting your gaze to meet his with a teasing smile. "Why?"

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he stared at you intensely.

"Because if you keep going, I won’t be able to stop."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, but instead of intimidating you, it only urged you to tease him more. Slowly, you lowered your hand, letting your fingers trail along the waistband of his swim trunks.

Heeseung held his breath. You looked up at him with a falsely innocent gaze.

"Like this?"

In an instant, he gently pushed you backward onto the lounge chair, making you lose balance for a second. His body hovered over yours, his hands framing your face, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

And this time, he was the one to kiss you first.

His lips pressed against yours with a softness that contrasted the firm way he had pushed you down. It was a slow kiss, but it carried something deeper—something possessive.

Heeseung wasn’t just kissing you—he was exploring, savoring, claiming every inch of your lips.

A faint moan escaped your throat as the sweet taste of lemonade mixed with his, making everything more intense, more electric. Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him even closer.

Heeseung felt your body press against his, your breath melding with his, and in that moment, he realized—this was better.

Better than all the filthy dreams he had about you. Better than any fantasy that had kept him awake at night, picturing you beneath him, moaning his name.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes roamed over your flushed face, your swollen lips parted slightly as you caught your breath.

"You’re beautiful," he whispered, his thumb tracing the outline of your mouth.

You lowered your gaze, a shy smile playing on your lips. "Will you say that again?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I bet you hear it every day."

You shook your head, ruffling his hair with your fingers. "It’s the first time someone has said it without jealousy or ulterior motives."

Heeseung frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts. "Girls usually resent me for it, and guys… well, the compliments I get are always shallow. No one’s ever looked at me the way you do."

For a moment, Heeseung remained silent. Then, with a small smile, he lowered his gaze and absentmindedly traced soft patterns along your side.

"So, what you’re saying is… I’m special?" he asked, a mischievous lilt in his voice.

You scoffed, feeling warmth creep up your neck. "Don’t turn this into an ego boost."

He chuckled, but his smile turned softer. "Too late, sweetheart."

You stiffened slightly.

"Sweetheart?" you repeated, surprised.

Heeseung noticed your reaction and tilted his head in amusement. "I can’t call you that?"

You weren’t entirely sure why, but hearing that nickname from him sent a shiver down your spine. You gave him a small nod, avoiding his gaze out of embarrassment.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked, hoping your voice wouldn’t betray too much emotion.

Heeseung stared at you for a moment before nodding. "Tell me." His dark eyes studied you, and the mix of embarrassment and boldness in your expression made him realize you were about to ask something intimate.

His fingers on your waist stilled, his thumb tracing slow circles on your still-damp skin.

You lowered your gaze, biting your lip. Your hands fidgeted nervously, but there was determination in your posture. "I… I’ve never been touched there. Only by myself."

Heeseung’s pupils dilated slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

It was strange—he was usually the one who always knew what to say, the one with a teasing remark ready to throw at you. But now? Now he was completely thrown off.

"You…" he started, but then stopped, wetting his lips.

You lifted your gaze and, barely above a whisper, confessed, "I was wondering if… if you wanted to."

Silence. The only sounds were the distant crashing of waves and the frantic beating of your heart against your ribs.

Heeseung clenched his jaw, his gaze locked onto yours. For a moment, he almost looked conflicted. Then, moving slowly, he lowered his face closer to yours, his nose brushing against yours.

"Sweetheart," he whispered against your lips, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, "you do realize that if you say something like that to me… I won’t be able to hold back, right?"

Heeseung watched you from above with a mischievous grin, his dark eyes fixed on your still damp body. The costume adhered to your skin, making you feel even more exposed under his watchful gaze. He ran his tongue over his lips and leaned toward you, his fingers moving light on your thighs, barely touching you, enough to make you shudder. "Lie a little lower, pretty.” His voice was low, hoarse, an order disguised as a request. His hand gently pressed on your belly to guide you backwards. “I want to touch you better.” Nod without much thought, cheeks burning with anticipation.

He smiled, pleased. "Good girl," he whispered, sliding his finger along the edge of your bikini. "But remember that you can stop me whenever you want.” You nodded again, but you already knew that you would never do it. Her lips settled on the skin of your thighs, first with slow and soft kisses, then with small bites that made you wince.

His warm breath mingled with the cool pool air as his fingers drew invisible lines on your thighs. He caught you off guard when he looked down and whistled softly. "Cute... this is not pool water.” You opened your eyes wide, a shiver down your spine. "C-What?” Heeseung chuckled, a deep, cheeky sound, and slowly lowered the edge of your purple costume.

“Look. Are you so wet just because I touched and kissed you a little? Are you always so responsive?” You covered your face with your hands, embarrassed. “It never happened to me...”

He shook his head and with a quick movement gently took your wrists, moving your hands away from your face. His gaze became darker, more intense. “Don't hide.” His voice was more authoritarian now, deep and slow. “I want you to remember that the first one to make you feel that way was me.”

Your throat tightened, your breath trembled. His eyes did not leave your face, and you felt every inch of your skin catch fire under his gaze. He was grumpy, authoritarian and arrogant. And yet, you knew you never wanted to run away from him. Heeseung slid his fingers lower, touching your clit with slow, provocative movements. Your body reacted immediately, your hips involuntarily arched towards him, looking for more clutch.

"How cute," Heeseung muttered, looking at you with greedy eyes. "Before you were so cheeky, now what? Where did the girl he was taunting in the bookstore and the pool go?” You glanced at him, biting your lower lip. “I'm still here”

you replied, with a twinge of voice. He sneered. "Oh yes? Then show me.” And without giving you time to answer, he slid a finger into you. A groan escaped from your lips as your body adapted to the new feeling, unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your fingers had never been able to make you feel like this, and you knew it too.

“So tight, pretty, " he muttered, his voice a mixture of excitement and pure adoration. “And so wet just for me. Are you enjoying it?” He nodded frantically, unable to form words.

He chuckled. “Speak. I want to hear from you.” he whispered against your skin, adding another finger and increasing the pace. You felt like you were going to go crazy, and when his mouth drooped to graze your clit with your tongue, you screamed his name without even realizing it.

He moaned at you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. "Damn, pretty you're already losing your slimy cum and you haven't even come between my fingers and between my lips,”

the muttered before returning to work your mouth and pump more of his long fingers inside your poor shiny cunt that he divinely took. His touch, his tongue, everything was too much, too intense, he caught you off guard when he pinched your breasts still covered by the bikini, and the pleasure completely overwhelmed you. Your hands found his hair and you pulled it hard as your body trembled under his touch.

You came moaning his name, no longer ashamed. Heeseung slowly peeled off, licking his lips with a satisfied look. He looked at you as you tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling frantically. "Beautiful," he muttered, running a finger down your leg. “And this time I want you to remember it well.”

The end-of-summer party had been organized by the student council on the open part of the beach. From your house’s terrace, you could already see the soft glow of the bonfires, the shadows of people laughing and dancing, the sound of the waves blending with the music playing in the background. The sky, however, wasn’t completely clear—shades of pink and white intertwined with deeper tones of violet, creating an almost magical atmosphere.

You quickly checked your phone: no rain forecast. Perfect.

You slipped into your sparkly butterfly top, paired with a bralette that was both sexy and sweet—just like you. A flowy white skirt brushed against your legs, and delicate sandals adorned your feet. Your curly hair cascaded over your shoulders, with two small braids framing your face. You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled—you felt beautiful. But maybe, just maybe, you wanted to look beautiful for someone in particular.

For Heeseung.

You arrived at the party with a confident stride, immediately welcomed by the warmth of the crowd. Friends greeted you, laughter filled the air, and the salty scent of the sea mixed with the smoky aroma of burning wood. But as you talked, your eyes wandered, unconsciously searching for someone.

Lisa, of course, noticed right away. 'Looking for someone in particular?' she asked with a teasing smile.

You shook your head a little too quickly. “N-No! Just… looking around.”

Emma crossed her arms. -Mmmh, sure. Then why do your eyes keep landing in the same spot?-

You swallowed, trying to play it cool, but then—your heart skipped a beat.

There, near the shoreline, illuminated by the warm glow of the bonfires, stood Heeseung.

He was wearing a white shirt that highlighted the slight golden hue of his skin, paired with dark jeans that fit his tall, lean frame perfectly. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his fingers through it more than once. He was talking to Jay and Sunghoon, laughing from time to time, but… he wasn’t alone.

Next to him, a girl was clearly trying to monopolize his attention. She laughed dramatically at everything he said, touched his arm with too much familiarity, and tilted her head to the side every time she spoke.

And Heeseung?

He didn’t seem particularly interested—but he wasn’t pulling away either.

A faint sting prickled in your chest. It wasn’t jealousy… right?

You had never been jealous in your life—perhaps because you had never truly liked someone before. But now, with your eyes fixed on the scene in front of you, a faint burn crept from your stomach to your chest.

As if drawn by an invisible force, you turned to your friends. “I’m just going to say hi to someone.”

Lisa and Emma exchanged a knowing glance before nodding with amused smiles. You could hear their whispered comments behind you, but you paid them no mind. You had other things to focus on.

Walking confidently across the soft sand, you approached Heeseung’s bonfire and his group of friends. But instead of heading straight to him, you stopped nearby, pretending to be interested in something else entirely.

From there, you could hear the conversation clearly.

And just as you’d suspected, that girl was blatantly flirting with him.

“Anyway,” she licked her lips, tilting her head to the side, “I just can’t believe you’re still single, Heeseung.”

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair, already visibly uncomfortable. “Uh… yeah, well… it’s not that—”

She laughed, cutting him off. “No, seriously, it’s crazy! I mean, look at you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder with far too much familiarity. “Tall, handsome, those dark eyes… And I heard you play basketball, so I bet there’s a nice body under that shirt, huh?”

Jay and Sunghoon exchanged amused glances as Heeseung blushed slightly, lowering his head.

“Uh… I just play for fun, nothing serious,” he murmured, trying to downplay it.

She giggled again, stepping a little closer. “Oh, sure, sure. But I bet you’re super competitive, aren’t you? Guys like you always are. Tell me, what if we played… one-on-one? If I win, you buy me a drink. If you win… well, we’ll figure something out.”

Her voice had dropped lower, turning more suggestive.

You rolled your eyes.

How much longer did you have to endure this?

Letting out a small huff, tired of the conversation, you decided to step in.

With a mischievous smile, you approached Heeseung—just like you had done at the pool.

Wrapping your arms around his back, you completely caught him off guard.

His whole body tensed for a second before he spun around, eyes wide, his face turning an instant shade of red.

“Oh,” he stammered, visibly taken aback.

And the way he was looking at you… was exactly what you wanted.

His gaze traveled over you slowly, almost as if he didn’t know where to stop. The sparkly top highlighting your shoulders, the light skirt fluttering around your legs… your skin glowing under the firelight. He swallowed dryly, running a nervous hand through his hair yet again.

“Hey, Hee,” you greeted him with a sweet smile, laced with that teasing tone you knew always made him flustered.

“H-Hey…” he replied, dropping his gaze for a brief moment before bringing it back to you.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” you tilted your head to the side, feigning innocence.

The girl next to him looked at you with an expression teetering between surprise and annoyance.

“No, no,” Heeseung quickly interjected—too quickly. “We were just… uh…”

“Yes?” you smiled again, watching the way he bit the inside of his cheek, clearly flustered.

Jay chuckled quietly beside him, while Sunghoon covered his mouth to hide his amusement.

Heeseung cleared his throat, trying to collect himself, but the blush on his cheeks wasn’t going anywhere.

You, on the other hand, simply looked at him with soft amusement. Because you knew that, shy as he was, he would never back down from the game.

And indeed, after taking a deep breath, his eyes grew a little more certain.

“You have perfect timing,” he murmured with a hint of a smile. “I was just about to ask someone to save me.”

You burst into laughter while the girl next to him crossed her arms, visibly annoyed.

“Oh, so I’m your savior now?” you shot him a playful look.

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I could get used to it.”

When you asked if he wanted to take a walk by the shore, he didn’t hesitate for even a second.

“Of course.” Then, without giving you a chance to say anything else, he grabbed your wrist and started walking, gently pulling you along with him.

The warmth of his skin against yours made you shiver slightly, but you tried not to let it show.

The sound of the party gradually faded as you walked away, leaving only the gentle crash of the waves against the shore and the soft creaking of the wooden pier beneath your feet.

“I never thought I’d see you dressed like this,” Heeseung murmured, breaking the silence.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “And what exactly does that mean?”

He turned to look at you, with that usual mix of embarrassment and boldness in his gaze. Then, he ran a hand through his hair—a clear sign he was searching for the right words.

“It means that…” his eyes lowered slightly, scanning you carefully. “That you look beautiful.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hide your smile.

“Oh? That’s already the third or fourth time you’ve said that.”

He let out a quiet laugh, lowering his head. “So what? You want me to stop?”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “No, but at this point, you could at least switch up the compliments.”

He leaned in ever so slightly, tilting his head to the side. “Alright. Then can I tell you that you’re driving me crazy dressed like this?”

His voice was lower now, deeper, and the way he was looking at you sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt his hand graze your waist, warm against your bare skin.

You swallowed. “Better, definitely more original.”

He barely smiled. “See? I know how to tease too.”

You bit your lip, looking at him with playful amusement. “So, do you prefer me… or the girl you were flirting with?”

Heeseung scoffed, his expression almost irritated. “Flirting? Are you serious?”

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, making you gasp.

“She was the one flirting,” he continued, lowering his voice just a little. “Not me.”

He held your gaze for a few seconds before slowly leaning down toward your ear. His breath brushed against your skin.

“I’d choose you over any other girl.”

Your stomach tightened. Then, with an even softer whisper, he added:

“I’ve had so many dirty thoughts about you that I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

Your breath caught for a second. You tried to compose yourself, but your cheeks were burning. So, to distract yourself, you teased him about something you knew would work.

“You’re too tall,” you muttered, looking up at him.

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “And you’re too small.”

You huffed, giving him a light push on the chest.

He chuckled. “If you want, I can bend down.”

And as he said it, he slowly lowered himself until your faces were just inches apart.

“Better like this?” he whispered.

Heeseung noticed that you were trembling slightly.

Without a word, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders with a slow, almost absentminded motion.

You looked up at him, gripping the fabric between your fingers. “Well, aren’t you a gentleman.”

He shrugged, feigning indifference. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

You giggled, pulling the jacket tighter around you. “And yet, you don’t really seem like the type to worry so much.”

He was about to answer when a loud clap of thunder shattered the silence, making both of you jump.

Then, as if the sky had been waiting for the perfect moment, small raindrops began to fall, cold against your skin, still warm from the party.

You burst into laughter.

“Well, I guess it’s fate,” you exclaimed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along with you.

Heeseung let himself be dragged without resistance, laughing softly as you ran along the beach, the rain growing heavier by the second.

“Every time we see each other, we always end up in the water!” you shouted, squeezing his hand and picking up the pace.

He shook his head, amused. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

You both laughed again, not stopping until you reached the small gazebo on your property.

Without thinking twice, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into a sudden embrace.

You felt his chest rise and fall against yours. His breathing was still uneven from the run.

Instead of pulling away, you lifted a hand and tousled his wet hair. “You’re soaked.”

He scoffed quietly. “So are you.”

Your gaze drifted down to his wet shirt, now completely see-through and clinging to his body.

You bit your lip without even realizing it.

“Okay… I have to admit,” you said, tracing a finger from his biceps down to his abs. “This shirt looks ridiculously good on you.”

Your fingers lightly brushed the skin beneath the fabric, cold and featherlight.

Heeseung shivered just slightly.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

You looked up at him with that innocent expression he knew was anything but innocent. “Nothing.”

He knew you were playing.

But he didn’t expect what happened next.

You rose onto your tiptoes and, without hesitation, kissed him.

The kiss was sweet at first, slow and uncertain.

Your lips moved against his with an almost maddening gentleness, as if you wanted to savor him slowly, without rushing.

He gave in immediately, closing his eyes and resting his hands on your waist, gripping you lightly.

But then he felt your tongue barely graze his, a soft caress that made him let out a quiet moan against your lips—and everything changed.

The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier. His hands tightened on you, pulling you against him as his chest rose and fell unevenly.

Your body pressed perfectly against his, the soaked fabric leaving no space between you.

When you finally pulled away, he was panting slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

But then, with a smile that was both mischievous and impossibly sweet, you whispered:

“I want you.”

Heeseung froze, his eyes widening slightly, his fingers—once gently caressing your waist—now going still.

He stared at you, trying to understand if he had heard you correctly.

Okay. Okay, one thing was making up fantasies about you. One thing was touching himself in the shower while thinking about you. But now?

Now it was you—the girl everyone wanted, the sweetest girl he’d ever met—the one who teased him but also smiled at him with such innocent warmth—you were the one saying you wanted him.

And suddenly, he couldn’t think straight anymore.

Heeseung looked into your eyes, his breathing still uneven from the kiss.

“Are you messing with me?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse, that low tone making you shiver.

You shook your head, biting your lip. “No.”

You took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and pulled him inside.

You could feel him behind you, his steps slow but heavy as you climbed the stairs. When you crossed the threshold of your bedroom, you felt his gaze land on every little detail of your world.

He looked around, curious. Your books stacked on the nightstand, the small trinkets scattered across your desk, the photos taped to the wall, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of fairy lights.

Suddenly, you felt shy.

You didn’t know why, but the fact that he was here, in your most intimate space, made you feel vulnerable.

Slowly, you turned toward him, lowering your gaze.

“Do you want me too?” you asked softly, almost whispering, unable to look at him.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, you heard a quiet sigh, followed by a smile.

“All of a sudden, you’re shy?”

You felt his fingers brush against your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. His eyes were darker now, his expression serious—but amused at the same time.

“What happened to the girl who wouldn’t stop teasing me?”

You blushed even more, and he chuckled softly.

“Cute,” he murmured, lowering his face toward your ear. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for months.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

He tilted his head, his nose grazing your skin as his hands slid down to your waist.

“Every time I saw you, every time you laughed, every time you looked at me with those eyes…” His voice dropped lower as he pressed a soft kiss to your earlobe. “…I became obsessed.”

Your breath hitched.

His hands traveled back up, gripping your waist slightly. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You turned slightly toward him, your heart pounding in your chest.

He smiled, but his eyes were dark, filled with something deeper.

“But do you know what I like the most?” he whispered, his lips just barely brushing against yours.

You swallowed, shaken by the way his body pressed against yours. “What…?”

He smirked, tilting his head.

“The fact that with me, you’ve let yourself go.”

He kissed your neck, his lips warm against your skin, still damp from the rain.

“The sweet girl that everyone loves…” His hands slid down your back, touching you with an agonizing slowness. “…but with me, she loves to tease.”

His teeth grazed your skin lightly, making you shiver.

And then, in a deeper voice, he added:

“You know something?”

You swallowed hard, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his lips trace down your jawline.

He smiled against your skin.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about you.”

Your breath caught.

“How many times I’ve touched myself thinking about you.”

Your eyes snapped open, heat surging through your body.

Heeseung pulled back just slightly, watching your reaction with an amused smirk.

“Does that embarrass you?”

You shook your head quickly. “No.”

He chuckled. “You’re adorable when you try to act tough.”

Then, with a more commanding tone, he grabbed the hem of his soaked shirt and lifted it slightly.

“If you really want me,” he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, “then take it off.”

You took off his shirt without saying a word, your hands sliding over his warm skin as you brought your lips to his neck. You began kissing him softly, letting yourself go with small bites and gentle sucks, feeling his breath grow heavier. He chuckled amusedly and, with a provocative smile, asked:

“Where did you learn these things?”

You looked up, a flash of challenge in your eyes.

“From the books you recommended to me this summer.”

His laugh filled the room, vibrant and genuine, as he teased you in return. But you didn’t stop. You continued down, your lips grazing his collarbone, then his chest, lingering on his nipples. He bit his lip, his breath becoming shorter. You went lower, your lips tracing a slow, deliberate path down his abs, until they brushed against the sensitive skin around his belly button. A soft moan escaped him, and you saw him run a hand through his hair. By now, you had learned to recognize those small gestures: he did that when he was impatient... or shy.

Your hands held him gently at the waist as you looked up at him from below, a mischievous smile on your lips.

“I’m a little embarrassed… I’ve never done anything like this with anyone before.”

He lowered his gaze to you, his face a mix of sweetness and desire.

“You can take all the time you want with me. I want you to be sure.”

Those words warmed your chest, but a shiver ran through you when you felt the damp fabric of your top against your skin. You looked him in the eyes, biting your lip.

“Then… take it off.”

He didn’t need any more words. He didn’t even let you finish the sentence before he slid the fabric down your arms. As your top fell to the floor, he whispered, with a genuine smile and eyes full of admiration:

“You’re beautiful.”

When Heeseung saw your bralette, a playful grin tugged at his lips. His eyes lingered on the thin lace that covered your chest, and with a finger, he traced slow circles on the fabric, barely touching you.

“You’re too cute like this… so innocent, it makes me want to make you blush even more.”

The heat rose to your face, but you didn’t have time to reply, because his mouth immediately found your neck, sucking with an intensity that made you shiver. His hands moved confidently over you, and before you knew it, the bra was gone. He pulled back slightly to look at you, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“Finally... I’ve been dying to touch them.”

The way he said it made you instinctively clench your thighs together, but he noticed and laughed, biting his lip. Then, without giving you a chance to react, he gently pushed you onto the bed and positioned himself above you. His mouth wasted no time, moving down to torment your breasts with bites and sucks, intensifying the heat inside you.

A small moan escaped you as his body slid against yours, and you clearly felt his arousal press against your sensitive center. The contact made you shiver, and without thinking too much, you murmured: "I feel ... your length..."

For a moment, Hee stopped. Then he burst out laughing, raising his head to look at you with an incredulous and amused expression. "Length?!"he repeated, amused. "Do you really call it that? Why are you always so adorably naive?" His tone was full of mischief as he lowered his voice and his pelvis barely moved against yours, making you gasp again. "

Say it right, baby." he whispered against your ear, slowly biting your lobe. "They say fuck." You bit your lip, your face on fire, but he had no intention of letting you go without hearing it from you.

Hee peppered you with kisses along the body, descending further and further down until it reached your navel. He paused for a moment, looking up at you with a mischievous smile. "Can I take off your skirt?"he asked in a hoarse voice.

A shiver ran through your back. Without hesitation, you raised your hips slightly as a sign of assent, and he, with a satisfied smile, slowly slid the fabric down your legs. He whistled quietly, but his attitude changed as soon as he saw what you were wearing underneath. His eyes darkened, his expression became more intense, almost possessive.

"A thong?" His voice dropped an octave as his fingers grazed the thin fabric. "And for whom did you put it?" You shrugged your shoulders with a sly smile, without immediately answering, but your provocation made him lose his temper. Without warning, his hand struck your thigh with a firm slap, making you wince.

"Hee!" his name eluded you in a small surprised cry. "Who did you put it for?" he repeated, the more authoritarian tone this time. You looked down, biting your lip, before whispering softly: "Just for you."

His smile returned, more smug than ever. "Mh ... and tell me, do you like it?"you added in a playful voice. "I have a dozen like that..." As soon as those words came out of your mouth, Hee snorted quietly, shaking his head with a mixture of disbelief and pure desire.

"Damn, y /n..." he laughed, but his gaze was loaded with something deeper. He teased you with a few more jokes, but his mouth wasted no time. He began to kiss you over the thong, brushing every inch of bare skin, making you arch under him. One of his hands slid under you, firmly grabbing your bottom and clasping against you. His breaths were heavy, his control almost nonexistent.

"I'll ruin you..." he muttered in a low voice, his lips touching your skin as he spoke. "I've been obsessed with you for months."

His teeth pulled the rubber band of the thong flat before sliding it off. He whistled again when he noticed how wet you were. He looked up at you, a flash of pure adoration in his eyes.

"Even wetter than that time in the pool..." he whispered with a crooked smile. You bit your lip, trying to hide the embarrassment, but with a thread of voice you told him: "Just for you, Hee." And his last crumb of control faded completely.

His hands explored every inch of your warm skin. His eyes, dark and full of desire, rested on your center now lit by his touch. He ran a finger along the still damp fabric of the thong he had just moved and smiled. "If you really want to lose your virginity to me, I have to prepare you well."His voice was low, hoarse. "But you need to relax… and most importantly trust me."

You looked at him with a defiant smile, trying to play with him as always. "Who said I was tense?" But Hee wasn't in the mood for your little games, not this time. "Don't be smart, Y/ n." he replied in an authoritarian tone, and without warning, he shoved a finger inside you. A gasp ran through you as you clutched the sheets in your hands,the breath breaking. "Be… it's beautiful…" you could say, biting your lip. He giggled quietly, his gaze full of fun. "Oh, yes? Then you could get another one, don't you think?" And without waiting for an answer, he added a second, slowly moving them inside you, making you feel every inch of their presence. The heat enveloped you, your body instinctively moved against his hand, while he laughed quietly, amused by your reaction.

"Look… you're making my fingers touch you so well. What will you do when it's my cock inside you?" His dirty words made your face burn, but the pleasure growing inside you was too strong to think of any answer. Then, in a slow and precise motion, he slid his thumb over your most sensitive point, barely pinching it. A cry escaped from your lips. "Hee—!" "Are you close?" he asked with a satisfied smile. He nodded frantically, his body trembling under his touch. But his gaze suddenly became more authoritarian as he slowed down his movements. "Don't even try." His voice was an order. "You have to be ready for me, so I'll add another one." "No—wait -" But he ignored your protest, pushing a third finger into you. A wave of pleasure swept over you, your back arched as your body adjusted to the feeling of being so wonderfully filled. You could feel the moisture sliding down his fingers, your white, slimy excitement shining on his skin. Your hands ran to his hair, pulling it hard, desperately trying to hold on to something as your body completely surrendered to him. Hee smiled against your skin, his voice a whisper full of satisfaction.

"Now you can come." And those words were enough to make you completely lose control. The pleasure exploded within you, and his name escaped you in a cry as your body trembled under his touch.

Your body was still shaking, your breath broken as the wave of pleasure slowly subsided. But Hee didn't give you a moment to recover. You felt missed when you saw him stooping between your legs, his lips touching your still sensitive skin. And then, without any hesitation, his tongue slipped on you, collecting every trace of your excitement. A groan eluded you as the warmth of his breath caressed you.

"You're so sweet..."he whispered, looking at you with bright eyes. "I'm lucky I was the first to taste you. And it will only be so, forever." You stammered something, your brain still clouded with pleasure.

"I ... you ... Hee -" but you couldn't even make a sensible sentence. He laughed softly, his gaze full of fun and desire. Without saying anything, he pulled himself up, his hands running to the edge of his pants. When he slid them down, revealing his Calvin Klein box Hee noticed your gaze fixed on him and tilted his head with a smirk.

"Oh? Are you embarrassed for so little?" Then, however, his tone changed slightly, becoming more serious.

"Y/n ... are you sure?" You met his eyes and nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I want it." He smiled contentedly and confidently took your hand, guiding it to the edges of his boxer.

"Then take them off." The heat of his order hit you right in the stomach. Your fingers shook slightly as you grabbed the rubber band and slowly lowered it. And then, as soon as the fabric slipped off, its member snapped free, revealing itself in front of you. It was really big, slightly pinkish, with a thin patina of desire that shone on the tip. Swallow, trying to dampen the tension with a shy smile.

"Well ... I definitely didn't expect it that way."

Hee laughed softly, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me now?" Then, he lowered his voice slightly. "You want to touch him?" The heat that enveloped you was almost unbearable. But, without taking your eyes off his, nodded.

"Yes…" As soon as your fingers brushed him, you felt his warm, taut skin under your touch. Hee tilted his head back, a low groan escaping from his lips.

"If you continue like this..." he muttered with a crooked smile. "I may not last as long as I want." You bit your lip, enjoying his reaction, then looked up at him.

"Then...before fucking me can you tease me a little the entrance to fit me slightly?" He looked at you for a moment, his gaze becoming even darker. "For you, anything."

His hands slid over your thighs, slowly opening them. Your heart beat faster when you felt its hot tip touch your slimy folds. Both groaned at the same time, the electrical contact, a mixture of expectation and pure desire. Hee approached your ear, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Are you ready for me?"

His cock began to slightly tease your slimy cunt and you moaned at the inward sensation of his cock teasing your entrance, Hee looked at you intently and felt that you were still slightly tight and he wanted your first time to be perfect.

"Dear, give me your hand, if you feel that it hurts too much you squeeze it and you can also tell me to stop if it's too much"

You nodded as you felt more and more of his cock sliding inside you but he wanted to hear you say it in your voice. "rispond Y/n, answer me, I want to hear that beautiful voice not a simple gesture with the head!" you took his hand and told him that you would do it if it was too much and he gave you a little kiss on the forehead and with one stroke slid its length into you slowly and you moaned together.

"God, you're so tight pretty, is everything ok?"

you looked at Heeseung above you with clumps of still damp hair falling on his forehead and he gave you comfort in having sex with him for the first time.

"Yes, yes, I have to get used to it all again," he pushed himself to escape slightly, and then I told him he could move more. Heeseung pushed for the first few times slightly softly on your poor vaginal lips that still had to adapt to his leaking cock, the room was flooded with your body odor, you could hear only the whistling of the wind and rain. with his of your kisses and your bodies rubbing together.

"Hee, more please" you said slightly embarrassed to feel the feeling of well-being of his cock getting more and more sucked by you, he took your leg and put it slightly over his shoulder. "Look at you, so pretty and good at taking my cock, I had no doubt that under that aura of a good innocent girl there was a good girl to seduce to take me well!"

his thrusts became irregular inside you, it was all too much and you shook his hand to make him understand that it was too much but at the same time you moaned madly in feeling it inside you more and more deep. "Hee, please, I'm almost there" you said with tears in your eyes coming down from pleasure, he told you he was going to make you cum and teased you with his thumb your swollen clit and little twitches ran through your body and you screamed his name as your white cum scned between your thighs and his cock that could not stop hammering your poor cunt now soaked and sensitive.

"Where, where do you want me to come, cute?" you told him inside that you had started taking the pill and after two more pushes deeper and deeper inside you felt his sperm splash inside you and groan with the feeling of your bodies still embraced and merged with each other.

After cleaning you up with a damp cloth and taking you to the bathroom to change, Heeseung wrapped you in his arms, your face hidden against his chest while your heart raced uncontrollably. Your breath was still a little uneven, but you found the courage to whisper the words you had been holding inside for a long time.

"...I love you."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, suddenly, Hee burst into laughter.

You stiffened, and with a sulky expression, you turned away, ignoring the slight discomfort in your legs. You didn’t want to look at him. If for him it was just something to brag about to his friends, then let him. But he would never have anything else from you.

You felt him stay still for a few seconds, his breath barely noticeable against your skin. Then, as if a switch had been flipped in his mind, he gently grabbed you and turned you around, making you snuggle against him again.

"Hey," he murmured, his fingers grazing your side.

You pouted. "If for you it’s just something to tell others to brag about, then go ahead… but know that I’ll erase you from my life forever."

Hee sighed and gave you a small pinch on the side, making you flinch. "Stop saying nonsense and be quiet for a moment."

You looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes.

"I love you too."

His words were direct, without hesitation. You felt your cheeks flush, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I don’t believe it..." you murmured, looking down.

Hee smiled, amused, and with two fingers, he lifted your chin to make you look into his eyes again. "I love everything about you," he whispered with an intensity that made you shiver. "I love your sweet and friendly personality, but also your shyness. I love the innocent girl who blushes for no reason and the one who knows how to tease me without any shame."

His smile widened as he kissed down your cheek, all the way to your neck. "I love the one who gets jealous when she sees me with another... and the one who chose to give me her first time."

Your face was now completely red, your heart feeling like it was about to explode. You couldn’t hold back and kissed him, holding him tightly.

When you pulled away, your eyes sparkled with emotion. "So... are you my boyfriend?" you asked, a hint of shyness in your voice.

Hee smiled, shifting above you to settle you more comfortably between his arms. "Of course," he replied possessively. "I have no intention of sharing you with anyone else."

You bit your lip, a mischievous smile breaking through the redness of your cheeks. "Neither do I, you know?"

He chuckled and pulled you even closer. "Good. Because you’re mine."

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