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dangermousie · 5 years ago

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Prior to 2010 kdrama rec post

@walkwithheroes84 asked: “What are some dramas (Japanese, Taiwanese, Chinese, and/or Korean) that are older (pre-2010) that you wish more people would watch.”

Ooooh boy, we are gonna be here all day so I am just going to do Korea and save the rest for later. I had to really cull!

A Love to Kill (2005) - I own Japanese DVDs of this, I was so obsessed. A dark, intense melo in which Rain gets a job as a bodyguard to a rising young star played by Shin Minah. His plan is to seduce and wreck her to avenge his dead brother (who he believes killed himself after she heartlessly left him for fame), but he recons without his own impossible feelings for her or the extent of SMA’s internal damage. They remain one of the most impossible, messed-up, intense, doomed OTPs I’ve ever shipped. Stock tissues.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJox8iEcFMs

All In (2003) - he is a gangster, she is a nun. Have I gotten your attention yet? This was a huge hit and Lee Byung Hun and Song Hye Kyo are out of this world together.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AuVDFLOytQI

Beautiful Days (2001-2002) - a super classic, grown up melo about a plucky poor girl and a tortured workaholic and Choi Ji Woo and Lee Byung Hun set the screen on fire.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3skKcivjJs

Capital Scandal (2007) - somehow both frothy and deeply emotional, this centers on freedom fighters and playboys and spies in 1930s Seoul. If you don’t love it, you have no heart.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HN-0tERlaNM

Chuno/Slave Hunters (2009) - possibly my favorite sageuk (it’s a threeway tie atm), this story about an aristocrat turned slave hunter, a general turned slave, and a slave woman turned an aristocrat, all involved with rebellion, court secrets and sheer desperation of their lives is amazing. Beyond amazing. Jang Hyuk, Oh Ji Ho and Lee Da Hae are all on fire and if you ever watch only one sageuk, make it this one.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5vAGdXpN6no

City Hall (2009) - Kim Sun Ah as a small town civil servant and Cha Seung Won as an amoral fixer for a powerful politician sparkle beyond words in the most grown up, smart kdrama romcom I have ever seen.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLek2pnv8yY

Coffee Prince (2007) - Yoon Eun Hye is a woman dressing as a man, Gong Yoo as a man horrified to discover he likes her while thinking she is a boy. This was a mad hit for a reason.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKSupXmez5w

Damo (2003) - my first sageuk, this is as good as ever. Ha Ji Won is a police tea servant, a noble lady whose family was executed and she came down in the world; Lee Seo Jin as her noble superior who loves her silently. She infiltrates a conspiracy led by the charismatic, tortured Kim Mim Joon, and epic tragedy follows.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGkglLvjJ9k

Delightful Girl Chunhyang (2005) - back when Hong Sisters were consistently good, this is a modern take on the famous folk tale. Our heroine is a studious poor girl and our hero a ne’er-do-well son of a local prosecutor. There is arranged marriage, true love surviving some insane sacrifice, one of my all time favorite OTPs, and a heroine and hero that grow into people I was obsessed with. Confession time - I wrote fanfic for this drama!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kTGHJZIUvA

East of Eden (2008-2009) - a sprawling multigenerational epic they don’t make much of any more, this has its flaws but the plots and brotherhood and romances and the characters and the revenge are so worth it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6LBIo16-e8

Emperor of the Sea/Sea God (2004-2005) - a larger than life sageuk epic they don’t make any more.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j53vbAxW3d4

Family’s Honor (2008) - Kdrama does North and South. Our heroine is a widow from an aristocratic family, our hero is a noveau riche ruthless businessman who gets attracted to her. This is so so good!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YrAMgTKg_As

Fashion 70s (2005) - period drama about a bunch of intense cool peeps, fashion and love. Just watch it.

https://youtu.be/qly7vkFUv3g

Friend Our Legend (2009) - the most criminally underrated drama on this list, about a group of childhood friends turned gangsters and the tragic fall out.I want a rewatch rn tbh.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJQx3tA5cGs

Goong (2005) - a giddily fun take on an alternate universe where an icy modern crown prince and a bubbly commoner have to get married.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAjz-5b4P6A

Green Rose (2005) - this tale of a man (Go Soo) trying to get revenge and get back to his love (Lee Da Hae) is a modern take on Monte Cristo and has one of my fave opening scenes ever.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epJt6jCIOlU

Hello My Teacher (2005) - Gong Yoo is a student in love with Gong Hyo Jin’s teacher.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNFoENWvEEk

Hong Gil Dong (2008) - starts out wacky, ends up by making me cry. A wonderful take on Korean Robin Hood and the OTP omg the OTP!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ingEOTBSnt0

IRIS (2009) - in the running for my favorite kdrama of all time, with definitely the most tortured hero, this starts out as a fun routine actioner until our hero’s life details in a horrifying fashion and even his attempts to right the world are doomed in this horrifyingly bleak, intense, romantic drama.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kesXxZOBzQ

Jumong (2006-2007) - the DADDY of all traditional sageuks, with insane ep count (81) and equally insane and deserved ratings. See our hero go from zero to hero and an awesome king.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILBnGNxtwXw

The Kingdom of the Winds (2008-2009) - Song Il Gook’s last sageuk (so far, though I don’t think he’s gonna bother to come back), a story about a cursed prince and his quest for love and throne, this is wonderful.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1qfC0yFIf0

Last Scandal (2008) - they dated in high school. Now she is an exhausted ahjumma with a deadbeat husband and he is a huge star. A second chance romance that starts out hilarious but turns profound follows. One of my all time faves.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zquHf8-p3ZU

The Legend (2007) - I’ve raved about it elsewhere; it is arguably my favorite sageuk of all time (or maybe even just plain fave kdrama), smart and passionate and hugely epic.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=853sc-s2hHE

Lobbyist (2007) - one of the very few actioners I’ve ever liked, and with more whump than you can shake a stick at, Song Il Gook is a tough as nails international arms dealer with an even tougher OTP (JJY) and this is a heaven of plot and love and hurt/comfort.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8puRJNmey4

Loveholic (2005) - a student/teacher romance AND a story about a man going to jail to protect the woman he loves all rolled into one. What more could you want?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6nVH75IRCM

Lovers (2006) - if it’s a smart adult love story you want, come right in!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgpe4VkbtNk

Mawang/The Devil/Lucifer (2007) - meet possibly my n1 kdrama of all time. Haunted past, tragedy, revenge, complicated characters and plot. If there is a perfect kdrama, this is it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkn1KYaCjVk

My Girl (2005) - Lee Dong Wook and Lee Da Hae set the screen on fire in a romcom with hidden identities and plot twists. PS it is funny but when the drama starts, I literally bawled.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0jpSCN72Wg

One Fine Day (2006) - Sung Yuri and Gong Yoo in a lovely, angsty romance.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVeUG5U3oCU

Piano (2001-2002) - this is like who is who before they got to be big stars - Go Soo and Kim Hae Neul are in love but can’t be together because they are stepsiblings, Jo In Sung is a young gangster, tragedy and melo all around.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRG_4Uxl4Zo

Que Sera Sera (2007) - Eric and Jung Yumi play the ultimate dysfunctional couple. He uses his good looks to date rich generous women, she is a neighbor who is neither. Their levels of obsession with each other are insane.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4XqW14_A7k

Queen Seon Duk (2009) - want a female centric sageuk that is intense and epic and amazing? Look no further!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZwIY4poVBNw

Resurrection (2005) - a tight, complex revenge thriller that more people should see.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_ZbmVAk8zQ

The Return of Iljimae/Moon River (2009) - Jung Il Woo’s debut, this is arguably my favorite take on Korean Robin Hood ever and except for Someday and Friend Our Legend, the most underrated drama on this list.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YjgmHVO3n0

Robber (2008) - Jang Hyuk and Lee Da Hae break my heart and then heal it in this intense story of a man preying on desperate women and a broken widow. Yes, it’s another two messed up people heal each other story. I love those!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDyy3UtUWeM

Romance (2002) - a teacher/student romance, with gorgeous young Kim Jae Won and Kim Ha Neul.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LBs1tnc5Js

Sang Do, Let’s Go to School - Gong Hyo Jin is a teacher, Rain is a gigolo taking gigs to support his son; they used to be each other’s first loves. It’s wistful and slice of life and utterly tragic. Written by Lee Kyung Hee of the A Love to Kill and Thank You fame.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRg1q3RULWk

Save the Last Dance for Me (2004-2005) - I binged 17 episodes of this baby at a go, a record that has not yet been surpassed. Ji Sung is a rich man who is in an accident and gets amnesia, being cared for and falling for Eugene. However when he recovers his memory and forgets his amnesia time - he will end up meeting her again and falling for her all over again (hilariously, his RL wife Lee Bo Young plays the psycho secondary girl in this.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ekfBrvJil8c

Say You Love Me (2004) - a much better attempt at Dangerous Liasons than the wretched Tempted. Kim Rae Won and Yoon So Yi, naive and tragic young lovers, come across a pair of jaded sophisticates; the female half of whom is intrigued by the fresh faced KRW and envious of uncomplicated young love and asks her partner to take YSI away from KRW for kicks.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niL2WJ_oAIU

Seoul 1945 (2006) - from WW2 to the Korean war, this is intense and smart and pulls no punches.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYsotv2rFQI

Shining Inheritance/Brilliant Legacy (2009) - Han Hyo Joo is a young woman tormented by her family; Lee Seung Gi is a spoiled rich boy who needs to grow up. I was obsessed with this.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_sWhVZA3DY

Snow Queen (2006-2007) - Hyun Bin and Sung Yuri do a tragic romance melo right. He is a poor, smart kid, she is a brittle rich girl with a terminal illness. It hurts so good.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEkAbJLYVpk

Someday (2006) - a sheltered cartoonist suffering from a writer’s block meets a sort-of small time private detective. They are both haunted by their pasts but find hope and healing with each other.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLVijs891dw

Spring Day (2005) - a very solid melo where Jo In Sung ends up stealing the girl from the original leading man.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ps7l27OBnVQ

Spring Waltz (2006) - the last and, imo, best of the seasons dramas, possibly in my all time top 10 kdramas, it follows a haunted young pianist and his OTP and their shared tragic past and hope for the future.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IGO0DST8dk

Swallow the Sun (2009) - Ji Sung as the haunted mercenary wanting revenge on his father, Sung Yuri as his tough, common-sense girlfriend, one of my fave secondary OTPs (mercenary x stripper) etc etc.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C51efR5Iq5I

Thank You (2007) - Gong Hyo Jin is an island woman living with the stigma and agony of having an HIV positive child. Jang Hyuk is a surgeon haunted by the death of his girlfriend. Two lost souls find and heal each other in one of my all time favorites.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVk1TjvZZOw

Time Between Dog and Wolf (2007) - Lee Jun Ki is tortured a lot on his path to revenge and love. I loooove this one.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v24-57tLFH4

Tree of Heaven (2006) - only ten eps but bring your tissues for this tender and tragic and gorgeous love story between Park Shin Hye and Lee Wan, stepsiblings for a brief time; they reconnect when she’s a cleaner and he’s a gangster. I was sooooo obsessed with it!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YnAZlXZjFcw

What Happened in Bali (2005) - Ha Ji Won, Jo In Sung and So Ji Sub are a trio of desperately damaged people entangled with each other in what is probably still the darkest melo I have seen out of Korea. Money grubbing poor woman played by HJW, high-strung, abused rich son played by JIS, or a cold, ambitious man on the rise SJS - pick any of them, there is enough damage to level a city.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKHcYvK5qZM

Will It Snow for Christmas (2009) - a melodrama with Go Soo and Han Ye Seul by Lee Kyung Hee.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bvQ14gtCqvw

Worlds Within/The World That They Live In (2008) - the last candidate for my n1 kdrama of all time. By Noh Hee Kyung, with seemingly mundane lives of TV station personnel. But every character is someone you feel you know and Hyun Bin and Song Hye Kyo are both real and unreal as the OTP.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBHrjZ8T6a4

Congrats if you made it to the end!

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honeydixonn · 18 days ago

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Current Wattpad Fics

short summaries and links

back to friends, lee myung-gi

Two old friends, once bound by a fleeting moment of passion, find themselves estranged-only to be thrust back together under dire and unforgiving circumstances. Will the trials they face rekindle what was lost, or will the weight of their past keep them apart as they fight for survival?

remember, kang dae-ho

Two lovers, buried in debt and desperate for a way out, unknowingly enter the same deadly competition. As they fight to survive the brutal game, secrets, sacrifices, and an unexpected secret threaten to tear them apart. Will their love endure, or will the games destroy them both?

die together, hae-jo | mr plankton

Hae-Jo, grappling with his terminal illness and a growing urgency to find his biological father, seeks out Seorin, his ex-girlfriend, to accompany him on an emotional journey. Despite the lingering tension and unresolved feelings between them, Seorin reluctantly agrees, carrying her own hidden struggles as they set out on the road.

As they traverse the coastal towns of South Korea, the pair are forced to confront their shared past and the pain of separation, while rediscovering the connection they thought was lost. What begins as a desperate search for closure transforms into a profound exploration of love, sacrifice, and the bonds that hold them together, even when time is running out.

through it all, hwang jun-ho

Rising K-pop star Ji-hyun's glittering career is overshadowed by the growing distance between her and her boyfriend, Jun-ho, a police officer consumed by his brother's mysterious disappearance. Unbeknownst to her, Jun-ho has gone undercover to infiltrate the deadly Squid Game, hiding the truth to protect her.

When Ji-hyun stumbles upon his secrets, she risks her fame and safety to help him, diving into a dark world of danger and deception. As their love is tested by secrets, fear, and the stakes of survival, they must decide if their bond is strong enough to face the shadows together-or if their worlds will tear them apart forever.

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honeydixonn · 16 days ago

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die together, hae jo | mr plankton

one, the clinic

2479 words

The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzed in the quiet clinic room, the stillness broken only by the rhythmic scratching of Dr. Yoon's pen on her clipboard. Seorin sat stiffly on the edge of the examination table, her hands resting lightly over her barely-there bump. It was small enough to still be hidden under the loose folds of her sweater, yet she could feel its presence in the tender tightness of her belly.

Her feet dangled above the cold floor, brushing against the stool below, as her gaze wandered to the rain-speckled window. Outside, droplets streaked down the glass, tracing paths that seemed aimless yet purposeful all at once. She'd felt like that lately—adrift, moving forward because she had no choice but to keep going.

Dr. Yoon looked up, her warm expression a thin veil over the concern etched in her eyes.

"Well, Seorin," she began, her voice gentle, "overall, things are progressing, but there are a few things we need to talk about."

Seorin straightened, her chest tightening. "Is something wrong?"

Dr. Yoon hesitated, flipping through her notes before meeting her gaze. "Not exactly wrong, but your blood pressure today is higher than I'd like. Combined with the headaches you mentioned, and the bit of swelling in your ankles, it's something we'll need to keep a close eye on."

Seorin swallowed, her hand unconsciously drifting to her stomach. "Is the baby okay?"

"Right now, yes," Dr. Yoon reassured her. "But I want you to take extra care of yourself from here on out. No heavy lifting, no unnecessary stress, and make sure you're getting plenty of rest. This is early still, but these symptoms can sometimes point to potential complications later. We'll monitor things closely."

Seorin nodded, though her thoughts were already spiraling. Rest? No stress? She lived alone, balancing her work shifts while trying to make ends meet. "I'll do my best," she said softly, the words tasting hollow even as she spoke them.

The doctor smiled faintly but leaned forward, her tone softening. "You're not alone, Seorin. If you need help, don't hesitate to ask. Do you have anyone—family, a partner—who can support you?"

Seorin froze, her fingers tightening slightly over her belly. Family? No. And as for a partner... her mind flickered to Hae-Jo, the man she'd once dreamed of building a family with. He didn't even know. She had decided long ago not to tell him, and standing here now, she couldn't bring herself to regret it.

"I'll manage," she replied, keeping her voice steady.

Dr. Yoon studied her for a moment, then nodded. "All right. Just promise me you'll come in if anything feels off—no matter how small. Okay?"

"I promise," Seorin said, sliding off the examination table.

As she walked out of the clinic, the weight of the doctor's words settled heavily on her shoulders. The rain had picked up, a soft drizzle now turning into a steady downpour. She paused under the awning, staring at the gray sky and the blurred outlines of people rushing past with their umbrellas.

She had come to the clinic feeling hopeful, her baby's faint kicks earlier that morning giving her strength. But now, the fear she had worked so hard to keep buried was creeping to the surface. Her eyes stung, and before she could stop it, tears began to blur her vision.

The rain mingled with her quiet sobs as she leaned against the wall, struggling to catch her breath. It wasn't just the baby. It wasn't just the doctor's warnings. It was everything—being alone, keeping secrets, and the overwhelming thought that she wasn't enough.

She barely noticed the man until he was standing in front of her, a tall figure in a sleek black suit. Without a word, he slipped a closed umbrella into her trembling hands.

Her tear-streaked eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to thank him, but he was already walking away, his strides quick and purposeful.

"Wait!" she called out, her voice cracking.

The man didn't stop. His back disappeared into the sea of rain and bodies, leaving her clutching the umbrella. It was plain and black, nothing remarkable, but the gesture itself left her stunned.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring after him. She didn't understand why, but the simple act of kindness felt like a lifeline—a reminder that even in her loneliness, the world wasn't entirely cruel.

Sniffling, she opened the umbrella and stepped into the rain, its soft patter now muted above her. As she walked to the bus stop, her grip tightened around the handle.

Who was he? Why had he helped her? The questions lingered, but they weren't heavy enough to overshadow the flicker of warmth that his gesture had left behind.

And though she didn't realize it yet, this fleeting moment would set off a chain of events that would change everything—because some strangers aren't strangers for long.

The rain began to pick up again as Seorin walked the short distance from the bus stop to her apartment. The umbrella, still clutched tightly in her hand, offered little comfort against the biting chill that seeped through her coat. By the time she reached her building, her legs felt heavy, and the weight of the day bore down on her like an anchor.

She climbed the narrow staircase to the second floor, the faint smell of damp plaster and old wood filling the air. Her apartment door creaked as she pushed it open, and the familiar emptiness greeted her.

The rain was pounding harder by the time Seorin entered her apartment, the icy chill clinging to her skin even as she closed the door behind her. The apartment smelled faintly of the damp outside air, mixed with the scent of laundry detergent from the clothes she had hung to dry two days ago.

She paused for a moment, leaning her back against the door, her eyes scanning the space she now called home. It was so quiet here—so still. A place that didn't ask for anything, didn't offer anything.

The couch sat in the middle of the room, sagging slightly in one corner where a spring had given out. Beside it, a small folding table served as her dining area, though it was empty except for a mug she hadn't bothered to clean that morning. The mattress in the corner was bare, save for a blanket she'd pulled over it in haste that morning before her appointment.

Her eyes drifted to the single unopened box in the far corner of the room. It sat there, half-covered by a draped towel, as if hiding it would make it easier to forget what it contained. The items inside had been bought on sale at a department store weeks ago, back when the thought of preparing for a baby felt like an exciting step forward. Now, the idea of opening it made her chest tighten.

Seorin let out a shaky sigh and slipped off her coat, draping it over the back of the couch. She caught her reflection in the small mirror by the door—a pale face, tired eyes, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail that was already coming undone. Her gaze dropped instinctively to her stomach. The bump was still small, just a slight curve under her sweater that no one would notice unless they were looking for it.

She pressed a hand lightly against it, feeling the tautness of her skin, the faint life stirring beneath.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I know this isn't what you deserve."

The baby gave the faintest of kicks, a reminder that it was still there, still growing, still relying on her. Her throat tightened as she blinked back the tears threatening to spill over.

Moving to the couch, she sat down heavily, staring at the box in the corner. She hadn't even bought the essentials yet—no crib, no stroller, no bottles. The weight of what she hadn't done felt suffocating, as if she'd already failed before she'd even started.

But how could she prepare? How could she plan for a future that felt so uncertain, so fragile?

Her mind wandered to the life she had once imagined. The nursery she and Hae-Jo had talked about—the pale yellow walls, the bookshelf he had promised to build, the mobile they'd picked out together on a whim during a shopping trip. She could almost see him standing in that imaginary room, holding her close, his hand resting protectively over her stomach.

The memory was too much. She pressed her palms to her eyes, her breaths coming in uneven gasps as the tears broke free.

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispered into the silence.

The room offered no answers, only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the relentless sound of rain against the windows.

Seorin wiped her face, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She couldn't fall apart—not now, not when everything depended on her. She had made it this far alone, and she would keep going.

Her eyes drifted back to the box in the corner. Slowly, hesitantly, she stood and walked over to it. She knelt down, her hands hovering over the flaps for a moment before pulling them open.

Inside, everything was carefully folded and packed: a set of soft onesies in neutral colors, a tiny blanket patterned with stars, a small plush rabbit with floppy ears. She pulled the rabbit out, holding it in her hands, her fingers tracing over its soft fabric.

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine. To picture her baby holding this rabbit, clutching it tightly as they drifted off to sleep. To imagine a life where she wasn't so alone.

"I'll figure it out," she murmured, her voice steadier now.

Placing the rabbit gently on the table, she closed the box again, but this time, she didn't hide it. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

As the rain outside softened into a quiet drizzle, Seorin returned to the couch, her hand instinctively resting on her belly. She didn't have all the answers, but she would keep moving forward.

For her baby, and for the hope that maybe, just maybe, she could still build a life worth holding onto.

The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle by the time Seorin finished unpacking the box. The small plush rabbit now sat on the edge of the couch, its floppy ears tilted slightly to one side as if it were watching her. She stared at it for a long moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

The rabbit was one of the first things she'd bought—an impulsive decision made on a day when she still believed in the promise of what was to come. She'd seen it in the store window, its soft gray fur catching her eye, and before she knew it, she was walking out with the bag in her hand, smiling at the thought of the baby holding it someday.

Now, it felt like a relic of a life she wasn't sure she could give.

Her stomach rumbled, pulling her out of her thoughts. She realized she hadn't eaten since that morning—a halfhearted slice of toast she barely finished before heading to her appointment. She pushed herself off the couch, heading to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, she stared blankly at its contents: a carton of eggs, a half-empty bottle of orange juice, and a few wilted vegetables she'd been meaning to cook. There wasn't much else.

"You need to do better than this," she muttered to herself, grabbing the eggs and a pan from the cabinet.

As the eggs sizzled in the pan, she leaned against the counter, her gaze drifting back to the living area. The apartment was so sparse, so barren. She hadn't even bought a proper crib yet, just a cheap bassinet she'd seen on sale online. It was folded up in the corner by the box, still in its packaging.

The truth was, she had avoided buying the big things. Cribs, strollers, bottles—they all felt like commitments to a future she wasn't sure she could handle on her own. Every time she thought about it, the doubts crept in.

What if you can't do this? What if you're not enough?

Her chest tightened, and she turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs quickly before they burned.

After plating her simple meal, she sat at the small folding table, the plush rabbit still in her line of sight. The food tasted bland, but she forced herself to eat, knowing she couldn't afford to skip meals anymore.

Her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to Hae-Jo. She hadn't spoken to him since the breakup—not a word, not a message. He had made it clear that he didn't want her in his life, and she had done her best to respect that, even when it hurt more than she thought possible.

But sometimes, in the stillness of the night, she would imagine what it would be like if things had been different. If he had stayed. If he were here with her now, sitting across from her at this rickety table, teasing her about her cooking and making her laugh the way only he could.

She shook her head, pushing the thought away. It didn't matter. He wasn't here, and she was on her own.

As she cleaned up her plate and placed it in the sink, her phone buzzed on the counter. She picked it up, glancing at the notification—a reminder for her next doctor's appointment in two weeks.

Her hand tightened around the phone as the doctor's words from earlier echoed in her mind. "No heavy lifting, no unnecessary stress, and make sure you rest."

Seorin let out a shaky breath, leaning against the counter. Resting was easier said than done. She worked long hours at a small convenience store, standing on her feet for most of the day and dealing with customers who barely noticed her. She couldn't afford to take time off—not with the bills piling up and the baby on the way.

But she would have to find a way. Somehow.

Turning off the kitchen light, she walked back to the couch, sinking into its worn cushions. The rabbit stared back at her, its simple presence strangely comforting. She picked it up, holding it close as she closed her eyes.

"I'll figure it out," she whispered again, her voice soft but determined.

Outside, the rain began to pick up again, pattering gently against the windows. Seorin listened to it as she drifted into an uneasy sleep, her hand still resting protectively over her small, growing bump.

For now, that was enough.

#mr plankton hae jo #hae jo fanfic #haejo x reader #hae jo #mr plankton fic #mr plankton #woo do hwan #do hwan #mr plankton wattpad fic #kdrama fic

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honeydixonn · 2 days ago

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die together, hae-jo | mr plankton

seven, blurry steps

6386 words

The first thing Seorin noticed when she stirred awake was the heaviness in her body. It wasn't the comforting kind, the sort that came from being wrapped in warm blankets or from the deep exhaustion of a long journey. No—this was different. This was the kind of weight that settled deep in her limbs, making her feel like she was sinking into the hard wooden floor beneath her.

Then came the dull, relentless pounding in her head.

It was a slow, rhythmic throb, pressing against the inside of her skull like a steady drumbeat, dull but unshakable. It wasn't the sharp kind of headache she got when she was dehydrated, nor the fleeting discomfort of waking up too fast. This was heavier. More persistent. More wrong.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and immediately, her vision swayed.

The dim glow of early morning trickled in through the tiny window above, casting the small room in a soft, bluish-gray hue. The outlines of the furniture—the old wooden dresser, the small television, the fan humming steadily in the corner—blurred at the edges before sharpening again as she blinked.

The next thing she became aware of was the warmth surrounding her.

Hae-Jo.

His arm was still draped over her waist, his chest a steady, solid presence against her back. His breaths were deep and slow, fanning lightly against the nape of her neck. He smelled like faded cologne, clean cotton, and something distinctly him—something familiar, something that sent an ache through her chest.

If she closed her eyes, if she ignored the pounding in her head, she could almost pretend it was years ago, back when she would wake up every morning just like this. Back when she didn't have to miss him.

But she couldn't ignore it.

She couldn't ignore the growing discomfort in her body, the way her stomach felt unsettled—not quite nauseous, but as if something wasn't sitting right. She shifted slightly, and the dull ache in her joints became more noticeable. There was a strange tension in her fingers, as if they were stiff, like she had been clenching them in her sleep.

She swallowed, realizing belatedly how dry her throat felt.

Something was wrong.

Carefully, she moved to slip out from under Hae-Jo's arm, but the moment she shifted, his fingers tightened around her hip instinctively.

A low, sleepy grumble rumbled in his throat. "Mm... where are you going?"

His voice was thick with sleep, raspy and warm against her ear.

Seorin hesitated. "Just... bathroom."

He made a low hum in response, his grip loosening just enough for her to escape.

She barely managed to push herself upright before the dizziness hit.

The room swayed, the walls seeming to tilt for just a moment before steadying again.

She sucked in a slow breath, pressing a hand against the floor to ground herself. Breathe. Just breathe.

Forcing herself to her feet, she made her way toward the small bathroom in the corner, each step heavier than the last. By the time she reached the sink, her fingers were trembling.

She gripped the edge of the worn porcelain, staring at herself in the tiny mirror above it.

Her reflection didn't look right.

Her skin was paler than usual, her lips slightly chapped. But what unsettled her the most was her eyes—the slight puffiness around them, the dark shadows that seemed deeper than before.

Her breath came out shakily as she lifted a hand to her cheek, pressing lightly against the skin. It wasn't a dramatic difference, but she could tell. Something was off.

A wave of exhaustion rolled over her, so sudden that she had to brace herself against the sink.

She reached for the faucet with trembling fingers, twisting the handle until cold water gushed out. She cupped some in her hands, splashing it over her face, hoping the shock of it would clear her mind.

It helped—only slightly.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably.

She wasn't panicking yet. No, not yet. But there was a quiet, creeping fear slithering into her thoughts, whispering things she didn't want to hear.

What if something's wrong?

What if this isn't normal?

She had read about pregnancy symptoms, about fatigue and dizziness. But this—this felt different. This felt like her body was trying to tell her something.

She closed her eyes, taking another slow breath.

A soft creak sounded behind her.

Her eyelids snapped open, her heart lurching slightly as she turned.

Hae-Jo stood in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the dim morning light. His hair was disheveled from sleep, his jeans hanging low on his hips, his shirt wrinkled from where he had been curled up against the blankets. His gaze was laced with drowsy concern, his sharp eyes scanning her face.

"You okay?" His voice was quieter now, more awake.

Seorin forced a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah. Just thirsty."

His eyes flickered toward the sink, then back to her. He didn't look convinced.

For a moment, it felt like he was going to push—like he was going to call her out, press her until she admitted that something wasn't right.

But instead, he let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his face before tilting his head toward the bed.

"Come back to bed," he murmured, his voice low, softer than usual.

She hesitated, glancing at herself in the mirror one last time before shutting off the faucet.

Whatever this was—whatever this strange, creeping feeling was—she would deal with it later.

For now, she nodded and let him take her hand, his fingers curling around hers as he led her back to the blankets on the floor.

The moment she laid down, his arm draped over her again, his body warmth pressing against her back.

She could hear his heartbeat, steady and unbothered, so different from hers.

She wished she could match his calmness.

But as she lay there, staring at the ceiling, her fingers unconsciously resting against her stomach, the unease in her chest didn't go away.

It only grew.

The steady rhythm of the fan hummed in the background, the only sound filling the quiet room besides the soft rustling of blankets as Seorin shifted slightly under Hae-Jo's arm. She had been drifting in and out of sleep, the exhaustion from the day weighing heavy on her limbs, but something felt off.

Then, the sharp vibration of a phone cut through the still air.

Her body jolted at the sudden noise, her heart momentarily skipping a beat. She stirred, trying to move Hae-Jo's hand, which was still draped heavily around her waist, his fingers slack against the fabric of her dress.

But before she could slip away, his groggy voice stopped her.

"Wait, it's mine," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

She froze, watching as he groaned, shifting just enough to reach into his back pocket. He fumbled with the phone, blinking at the screen before answering in a low, tired tone.

"...Okay, I'm coming."

The words sent an immediate pang through her chest.

Her head turned sharply toward him as he sat up, rubbing his face with one hand while the other stayed shoved in his pocket. "Where are you going?"

Hae-Jo barely looked at her. Instead, he stood, rolling his shoulders, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs. He let out a long exhale, then casually shrugged.

"To give the DNA sample." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "Stay here."

Seorin felt something tighten in her chest.

She didn't like the way he said it, the way he brushed her off so easily, like she was nothing more than a temporary figure in his periphery. The weight of his warmth had barely left her side, and yet the space where he had been now felt cold, empty.

She stared at him warily as he slipped on his shoes and stepped outside, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.

The moment he was gone, the silence became unbearable.

The room that had once been too small suddenly felt too large.

She curled deeper under the blanket, pulling it tighter around herself. But no matter how much she wrapped herself up, it wasn't the same. The warmth wasn't his warmth. The safety wasn't his safety.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

She tried to keep herself awake, tried to stay alert for the sound of his return. But exhaustion was cruel, and her body was failing her. Her eyelids grew heavier with each breath, her mind floating somewhere between consciousness and sleep.

And before she realized it, she was gone.

It was the soft creak of the door that stirred her.

Her lashes fluttered, but she didn't wake fully. The weight of sleep still clung to her, her body sluggish, her mind foggy.

Hae-Jo stepped inside, careful not to make too much noise. His steps were slow, calculated, as if he were afraid to disturb the fragile quiet.

He glanced toward her still frame, her chest rising and falling steadily beneath the blanket.

Good. She's asleep.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before crossing the small room, setting his phone down on the crate beside the TV. Without thinking, he clicked it on, lowering the volume until it was nothing more than a faint murmur of sound.

The dim glow from the screen cast flickering shadows against the wall, filling the space with a false sense of normalcy.

He sat down beside her, his body feeling heavier than before, his limbs aching from more than just exhaustion.

The chaos he had witnessed outside still clung to him—the voices, the tension, the sharp reminder of why he was even here.

He didn't want to think about it.

Didn't want to think about the time slipping through his fingers, didn't want to think about the fact that even if he found the truth, even if he found him, it wouldn't change anything.

Wouldn't change this.

Wouldn't change her.

So he focused on the cartoon playing on the screen.

It was stupid, childish. But that was exactly what he needed. Something meaningless. Something that didn't remind him of everything falling apart.

He let out a quiet, breathy laugh at whatever was happening on the screen, but it was empty. Just a distraction. Just noise.

Then, as if drawn by instinct, his fingers found hers.

Even in sleep, her hand was warm, soft. He let his fingers curl loosely around hers, his grip barely there, as if he was afraid that if he held too tightly, she would wake up and pull away.

Or worse—disappear entirely.

Because wasn't that what always happened?

Every time he got too close, every time he let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he could have something real, something his—life reminded him that he wasn't meant for that kind of happiness.

His thumb traced over the ridge of her knuckles absentmindedly, his gaze locked on their intertwined fingers.

I don't want to lose you again.

The thought came unbidden, unwelcome.

He swallowed hard, pushing it down, burying it deep inside the same place he buried all the things he didn't want to admit.

Slowly, carefully, he shifted onto his back, keeping his hand loosely tangled with hers.

And for the first time in a long time, Hae-Jo allowed himself to feel something other than bitterness.

The fan hummed. The TV flickered.

And as sleep finally pulled him under, he held onto her hand just a little tighter.

Like he was afraid that if he let go—

She'd slip away forever.

When Seorin awoke, the first thing she noticed was that she was alone.

The small room was eerily quiet, save for the gentle hum of the fan that had been left running. The blankets that had once been beside her were now folded neatly in the corner, a pillow stacked on top, almost as if their previous occupant had never been there at all.

Her heart pounded.

Had he left her?

The thought hit her like a cold slap.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as she sat up too quickly, ignoring the faint dizziness that rushed to her head. Was this all just another one of his tricks? A final way to make a fool out of her before disappearing again?

She clenched her jaw.

No.

Seorin swung her legs over the edge of the pallet, determination setting her spine straight. She wouldn't be made a fool of. Not again.

She quickly began folding her own blankets, smoothing them out with stiff movements before stacking them in the corner. Every action was precise, calculated, an attempt to mask the frustration bubbling in her chest.

Her eyes flicked toward the door.

If he thought he could just abandon her here and disappear off to whatever reckless mission he had next, he was dead wrong.

She would not be left behind.

Striding toward the door, she reached for the handle—only for it to swing open just before her fingers touched the knob.

A familiar figure filled the doorway, the early morning sun casting a golden glow behind him, making him look almost ethereal.

Seorin's stomach flipped.

And then she realized who it was.

Hae-Jo.

With that insufferable smug grin.

"Going somewhere?" he drawled, leaning against the doorframe with the kind of arrogance that made her want to throw something at his head.

Seorin rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck. She pushed past him without a word, stepping outside onto the small wooden step. The morning air was crisp, the scent of damp earth lingering from the night before.

"Jackass," she muttered under her breath, reaching down to grab her shoes.

But before her fingers could even brush the material, they were snatched away.

"What the—"

Before she could protest, her foot was lifted into the air.

Her breath hitched as she found herself trapped in a ridiculous scene—Hae-Jo kneeling in front of her, sliding her shoe onto her foot with the precision of a man who had done this a thousand times before.

"Are you serious right now?" she snapped, but he only smirked, not even glancing up at her.

"Shh, princess," he murmured, tying the laces swiftly before moving onto the next shoe. His hands lingered for a moment, his fingers brushing over the curve of her ankle, his touch warm against her skin.

Seorin hated how her stomach twisted at the contact.

"There," he said smoothly, patting the top of her foot like she was some sort of well-groomed pet. "All dressed up and ready to go."

She glared at him. "I can put my own damn shoes on."

"Oh, I know you can," he grinned, finally meeting her eyes. "But where's the fun in that?"

She sucked in a sharp breath, biting down the urge to shove him onto his back.

Hae-Jo stood fluidly, dusting off his jeans before stretching his arms over his head, as if tying her shoes had been the most exhausting thing he had done all day.

"Let's go eat," he announced, his voice dripping with casual nonchalance. "On the house, by the way."

He held his hand out toward her, palm open, waiting.

Seorin stared at it.

His fingers twitched slightly, almost as if he was expecting—hoping—to feel the familiar warmth of her hand slipping into his.

But instead, all he felt was the cool morning breeze.

Seorin breezed past him, completely ignoring the gesture. "I can stand on my own."

The corner of Hae-Jo's mouth twitched, his cocky expression faltering for just a fraction of a second before he recovered, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

"Well, obviously," he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as he followed her toward the restaurant.

But even as he smirked, even as he played it off like it didn't sting—

His palm still felt cold.

The tension at the table was thick enough to slice with the very chopsticks they refused to use.

Two steaming plates of suyuk sat untouched in front of them, the aroma of the tender pork belly wafting into the small space, practically begging to be devoured. But neither Seorin nor Hae-Jo made a move, both too stubborn to be the first to cave.

It was a silent standoff, the kind that neither of them acknowledged outright but both fully participated in.

Hae-Jo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze lazily flicking across the room like he was completely unaffected by the delicious meal in front of him. His jaw ticked slightly, though, and Seorin knew he was hungry.

She, on the other hand, was losing the battle.

Her stomach betrayed her first, letting out a low growl that shattered the silence between them. She winced slightly but pretended she didn't hear it.

Hae-Jo, of course, smirked. "That your stomach or an animal crying for help?"

She shot him a glare before grabbing her chopsticks and stuffing a piece of pork belly into her mouth.

The moment the rich, savory flavor hit her tongue, she groaned, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth watered. The tenderness of the meat practically melted against her palate, and for a brief moment, she forgot about the man sitting across from her.

Then, an idea sparked.

"If you're not gonna eat it..." she mused, her chopsticks extending toward his plate, the mischievous glint in her eyes growing.

But just as she was about to drag his plate toward her own, a sharp slap landed against the back of her hand.

Seorin gasped dramatically, clutching her hand like he had just assaulted her. "Excuse me?!"

Hae-Jo didn't even look up. He simply took his own chopsticks and grabbed a piece of pork belly, popping it into his mouth with an exaggerated hum of satisfaction.

"Eat your own," he said lazily, chewing slowly, savoring the taste.

Seorin huffed, rubbing the back of her hand. "You wish you could stop me."

"I just did," he countered, finally meeting her gaze with a smug look.

She scoffed, dramatically shoving another piece of food into her mouth as if to prove a point.

The meal continued in complete silence.

Neither of them spoke, neither of them looked at each other for too long, both pretending they weren't hyper-aware of the other's presence. The air between them was thick, filled with everything unsaid, with every memory that clung to the spaces between their words.

Hae-Jo pretended he wasn't watching the way she chewed, the way her lips parted slightly before she took a bite, the way her nose scrunched ever so slightly when she reached for the shrimp sauce.

Seorin pretended she wasn't acutely aware of the way his fingers moved, the effortless way he held his chopsticks, the way he sat with that same cocky confidence he always had, the way his tongue darted out to swipe the corner of his lip after every other bite.

They ate, pretending not to steal glances.

Pretending not to remember.

Pretending that this was just a meal, just two people sitting across from each other.

But beneath the surface—

Every look. Every movement. Every lingering second of silence.

It was all laced with the quiet, desperate ache of something unfinished.

The air in the small restaurant was warm, filled with the scent of simmering broth and the lingering spice of gochugaru. The clatter of chopsticks and muffled conversations echoed around them, blending into the background like an old, familiar song.

Seorin traced the rim of her water cup absentmindedly, her mind tangled in thoughts that had nothing to do with the steaming plate in front of her.

"When are you getting the results?" she finally asked, her voice neutral, as she lifted the glass to her lips, taking a small sip.

Across from her, Hae-Jo didn't immediately respond. He was hunched slightly over his food, chopsticks moving with practiced ease as he stuffed a piece of pork belly into his mouth, chewing like a man with no time to waste.

"I'm waiting," he said around the food, barely sparing her a glance.

Seorin's brow twitched.

"Oh, wow," she deadpanned, setting her glass down with an unimpressed clink. "The most informative answer ever."

Hae-Jo snorted, reaching for another piece of meat as if her sarcasm was nothing but air.

She rolled her eyes, but the playful irritation quickly faded as she glanced back at the older man a few feet away, sitting with his sons. They spoke in hushed but firm tones, the weight of something unspoken hanging thick between them. The daughter-in-law hovered nearby, her hands clasped together, her face tight with restrained worry.

Seorin sighed through her nose, turning back to her plate, but something had shifted.

Her appetite was gone.

The food that had been mouthwatering just minutes ago now made her stomach twist uncomfortably. Her fingers toyed with her chopsticks as she pushed the pieces around, frowning at the sight of them.

Hae-Jo caught the movement immediately.

His chewing slowed as his sharp eyes flicked to her plate, then to her expression. His brows knit together, the smug nonchalance from earlier fading into something softer.

"Why aren't you eating?"

Seorin shrugged, still avoiding his gaze. "I feel sick. Not too hungry anymore."

His chopsticks clinked against the ceramic plate as he set them down.

Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the table, eyes narrowing as he studied her. He wasn't looking at her like she was some puzzle he wanted to tease—no, this was different. This was something closer to concern.

Something dangerously close to caring.

"You sure you're not sick?" His voice was quieter now, lower, like he was afraid of the answer. "You've been acting funny."

Seorin froze for half a second, fingers tightening around her chopsticks.

But before she could respond, before she could even deflect, his attention shifted.

His head tilted slightly as his gaze drifted over her shoulder, his expression slipping into something unreadable.

He was listening.

Seorin blinked, confused, before following his line of sight.

A broad-shouldered man had walked into the restaurant, his presence immediately commanding attention. His voice was loud, sharp, carrying across the space with the practiced ease of someone who was used to speaking and being heard.

Real estate agent.

The realization settled in as Seorin watched the older man's sons and daughter-in-law hurry to seat the newcomer at a table near theirs, their movements tense.

Hae-Jo's jaw tightened. His posture shifted just slightly, but she caught it—the subtle change in his expression, the way his hand moved to rest against the table like he was grounding himself.

She knew that look.

It was the look he always got when he was listening for something important.

And just like that—he was gone.

Whatever concern had flickered in his eyes moments ago, whatever care had slipped through his defenses—it disappeared. His focus was elsewhere now, his thoughts locked onto a conversation that had nothing to do with her.

Seorin exhaled softly, a weight settling in her chest.

Of course he wasn't listening anymore.

Why would he?

She turned back to her untouched plate, her stomach churning—not just from nausea, but from something deeper, something uglier.

Because the truth was, it shouldn't have hurt.

They weren't together.

They hadn't been together for months.

He didn't owe her his attention. He didn't owe her anything.

And yet—

Something about the way he had looked at her, even for just a second, had made her want to believe. Made her want to pretend that maybe—just maybe—he still cared enough to notice when something was wrong.

But that wasn't who Hae-Jo was.

He had left her.

And yet...

Maybe he deserved to know.

Her fingers brushed against her stomach, a small, fleeting touch.

Maybe he deserved to know about the child they shared inside of her.

But looking at him now—

Listening so intently to a conversation that had nothing to do with her, with them—

She wondered if she was just fooling herself.

Because in the end, she had never been enough to make him stay.

Would this child be any different?

The tension in the room was suffocating.

The back kitchen doors swung open with force, and the third son stormed into the dining area, his face twisted in rage. His broad shoulders heaved with barely contained anger as his sharp gaze locked onto the real estate agent seated with his brothers.

"What the hell is this?!" his voice thundered through the restaurant.

He didn't wait for an answer. He reached forward, his fingers curling around the agent's collar, yanking him up from his seat with a force that sent the dishes rattling on the table.

"I'm not selling, so get the hell out of here, you dork."

Seorin furrowed her brows, watching the scene unfold in confusion. Meanwhile, Hae-Jo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the picture of amusement. He wasn't just watching—he was listening, soaking in every word like he was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The brothers started bickering, voices overlapping in a heated argument. The real estate man held his hands up, trying to calm them down, but it was too late—the truth was spilling out. They had already begun discussing how to split the money from secretly selling the restaurant behind their father's back.

That's when Hae-Jo decided to make his move.

"A five-way split, huh?" he said casually, holding up five fingers.

The three brothers turned toward him in confusion. They exchanged glances, their brows furrowing as they struggled to place him. Who was he, and why the hell was he inserting himself into their business?

Seorin's stomach twisted with unease.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against the sleeve of Hae-Jo's white button-up in an attempt to pull him back, to keep him out of whatever mess he was about to make.

"Hae-Jo, stop—"

But her grip slipped as he stood up, his usual smirk plastered across his face.

"It's just that I think I deserve a cut too," he continued smoothly, his hands slipping into his pockets as he strolled toward the group.

Seorin's heart dropped.

What the hell was he doing?

"That is, if you're gonna split it between the family," he added, tilting his head slightly, his eyes flickering with mischief.

The eldest brother squared his shoulders, his stance shifting in irritation. "And who the hell are you?"

Seorin pressed her fingers against her temple, her stomach turning. This was going to end badly.

Hae-Jo feigned a thoughtful expression, pacing between the brothers with an air of mock surprise.

"Well," he drawled, "I might actually be your brother. One of your dad's illegitimate kids."

A silence so thick it felt like the room had been vacuum-sealed settled over them.

Seorin wanted to sink into the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she muttered under her breath, watching in disbelief.

But Hae-Jo wasn't done. He leaned in slightly, speaking just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I mean, you all did say last night that the money should be split equally among the family," he pointed out, his grin widening. "You planned to sell the restaurant, your property, everything, and dump your dad in a nursing home."

The panic in their expressions was immediate.

Hae-Jo let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over his chest like he was scandalized.

"Wait, wait—didn't you say that, sister-in-law?"

His gaze flicked toward the pregnant woman near the kitchen.

She froze, eyes widening in horror. But it only took a second before she masked it with a scandalized expression, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"What is he saying? What is he, mad? I didn't say that, Father!"

The second eldest son had had enough.

In one swift movement, he lunged forward, gripping Hae-Jo's collar in his fist, pulling him closer with an angry glare.

"Who are you, dude? Huh?"

Hae-Jo barely reacted. He simply looked at the man, his smirk never faltering.

"Oh yeah, that's right," he mused. "You were against it because you think you deserve everything."

He patted the son's cheeks mockingly, flashing a grin.

"For taking care of your dad while he was sick, you greedy bastard."

The air crackled with tension.

Then, without warning—

"Psycho!"

The son reeled his fist back and punched Hae-Jo hard across the jaw.

Hae-Jo stumbled back, leaning against the table as Seorin shot up from her seat, hands flying to her mouth in shock.

"Hey! Stop!" she shouted, stepping forward, but before she could reach him—

The real estate agent shoved past her.

Her body lurched forward, her side colliding hard against the table's edge.

A sharp, stabbing pain radiated from her stomach.

Her breath hitched, panic seizing her chest.

Her hand shot to her belly in an instant, pressing against it protectively. She stood there for a moment, frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Then she looked down.

She was still standing.

Still breathing.

But the fear clawed at her throat.

"Shit," she whispered under her breath, forcing herself upright.

By the time she turned back, the room had erupted into chaos.

Hae-Jo was already throwing the brothers around, dodging their attacks like he had done it a thousand times before, his grin unfazed despite the punch he had taken.

Seorin backed toward the wooden support beam, her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach.

"Hae-Jo, stop," she called, her voice sharp but breathless.

Her vision swam.

A pounding sensation throbbed in her head, her body swaying slightly. She gripped the beam tighter, willing herself to stay steady.

A loud shatter rang through the room.

She looked up just in time to see the eldest son gripping the jagged remains of a broken bottle, the sharp edges glinting under the dim restaurant lights as he pointed it directly at Hae-Jo.

"You motherfucker!"

Hae-Jo let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head.

"Hey, knock it off or you'll get hurt, dipshit."

But the three brothers weren't backing down.

The restaurant owner stormed in from the kitchen, his face twisted with disbelief as he took in the chaos before him. His furious gaze swept the room before landing on Seorin, his brows furrowing.

His eyes flickered down to her stomach, confusion flashing across his face.

"What's the matter with you, son of a bitch?!" the old man roared, grabbing a nearby container of salt and throwing it directly at Hae-Jo's face.

A mix of salt and rage filled the air.

For a split second, the room stilled.

Then Seorin lurched forward, her stomach twisting violently.

She gripped the table, her breath coming out in short gasps.

"Oh my god," she rasped, her knees threatening to buckle. "I'm gonna be sick."

Her legs swayed, her vision blurring.

Hae-Jo turned sharply, his body stiffening as he watched her.

His smirk vanished.

And for the first time that day, real, unfiltered panic flickered across his face.

"Stop standing there! Help your wife and get out!"

The old man's voice rang through the restaurant, sharp and commanding. It cut through the chaos, through the tension, through the nauseating dizziness clouding Seorin's mind. Her breath hitched, her stomach still twisting from the earlier shock. The cold sweat clinging to her skin only made her feel heavier, more exhausted.

She pressed her hand against the wall, fingers searching for something solid, something stable as she tried to guide herself toward the door. Her legs felt weak, wobbly, and each step felt like moving through water. The sounds around her blurred—the furious shouting, the rustling of movement, the clatter of broken dishes on the floor—but all she could focus on was getting out, breathing fresh air, grounding herself before she lost complete control.

A strong hand suddenly found her waist, another landing on her shoulder, steadying her before she could stumble. She didn't have to look to know who it was.

"Just hold on," Hae-Jo muttered, voice softer than usual, missing its usual sharp edge.

She didn't have the energy to respond. She let him guide her out, feeling the tension in his grip—firm, protective, almost desperate.

The moment they stepped outside, the cool morning air hit her like a wave, and she barely made it to the tree before her stomach lurched. She bent over, gripping the rough bark as she emptied everything inside her onto the damp grass below. Her entire body trembled, exhaustion seeping into her bones, making her head feel light and her limbs feel heavy.

Behind her, Hae-Jo didn't say a word. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away in disgust, didn't make some careless joke about how gross she was. He just stood there, watching, his presence solid and unmoving.

And then—like the universe needed to remind him that he was still in the middle of a fight—he was ripped away.

The sons shoved him forward, throwing him onto the pavement in front of the shop. He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs for a second. But instead of reacting with anger, instead of lashing out like they wanted him to, he simply exhaled and reached for his phone.

Priorities.

Seorin wiped her mouth, wincing as she leaned back against the tree, barely catching her breath before another voice reached her ears.

"Four months with no belly? Sure."

The daughter-in-law scoffed as she walked past, her judgmental gaze sweeping over Seorin before she disappeared into the shop.

Seorin felt her stomach tighten, but this time it wasn't from nausea. It was from something else.

Her fingers instinctively found the fabric of her dress, curling against her stomach as if shielding the life growing inside her. For months, she had hidden it—hidden him, hidden her—but now, standing there in the cold air, feeling the weight of those words, she realized how cruel it felt to deny it.

She glanced up and met Hae-Jo's eyes.

He had seen it too.

His expression was unreadable, his usual cocky mask slipping just slightly. But before she could say anything, before she could even process her own emotions, the old man walked past them, his gaze lingering just a second too long on her stomach before he turned back to Hae-Jo.

"They're lying about all of it," Hae-Jo said suddenly, his voice casual but firm, as he stepped forward and held the glass door open.

The old man turned, staring at him with something close to amusement. "Well, who's lying to whom here, huh?" His voice was slow, measured, as if he was testing Hae-Jo. "Both of you were dishonest with me. Did you seriously think I had no idea about their little plan?"

Hae-Jo clenched his jaw but said nothing.

The old man scoffed, shaking his head. "I just acted clueless," he continued. "I wanted to see how far they'd go. And then you waltzed in, causing chaos in something that wasn't even your business."

Seorin watched quietly from the side, her breathing still uneven, her body still struggling to keep up with everything happening.

"Tell me who you are, kid."

Hae-Jo opened his mouth, then closed it. His jaw twitched, his throat bobbed, but the words wouldn't come out.

"I..."

Then his phone vibrated.

He looked down.

Whatever was on that screen made his entire body still. His fingers tightened around the device, his grip turning white, and for a moment, his face was blank. Completely blank.

Then the tension in his shoulders loosened, his fingers slipping from the doorframe. The old man took the opportunity to close it in his face.

Seorin watched him carefully, her stomach knotting.

"Are you okay?"

Her voice barely reached him.

It took him a second to register that she had even spoken, and when he finally turned to her, his expression was hard to read.

She stepped forward, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs, and reached for his arm to balance herself. "He wasn't the one?"

Hae-Jo shook his head.

Silence.

She let out a breath, her fingers twitching against his arm before she let go. Neither of them had the words to say what they wanted.

He let out a slow exhale, rubbing a hand over his face before turning back to her. "Come on."

She barely had time to react before he was leading her toward the jeep, his hand on her back again, making sure she wouldn't collapse. When they reached the car, he gently leaned her against the hood, his eyes scanning her with something dangerously close to worry before he reached into the vehicle and pulled out a bottle of water.

"Drink."

She took it wordlessly, her fingers brushing against his as she grabbed it.

He took a few steps back, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

Seorin huffed as she twisted the cap off the bottle. "Those things are gonna kill you."

Hae-Jo smirked, but it was empty. His voice came out quieter than usual, laced with something almost bitter.

"I don't think a cigarette is gonna be the thing to take me out."

The words hit harder than she expected.

She tightened her grip on the bottle, staring at him for a long moment. She wanted to say something, but the words caught in her throat, tangled between past resentment and lingering emotions she didn't know how to deal with.

So she just drank.

And he just smoked.

The silence between them felt heavier than it should have, but neither of them broke it.

Minutes later, they were back on the road.

Seorin didn't ask where they were going.

She just leaned her head against the window, watching the passing scenery blur into streaks of green and gold.

And Hae-Jo—

He gripped the wheel a little tighter, his mind spinning with too many thoughts.

One down.

Four more to go.

#mr plankton hae jo #hae jo fanfic #haejo x reader #hae jo #mr plankton wattpad fic #mr plankton fic #mr plankton #woo do hwan #woodohwan x reader

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honeydixonn · 2 days ago

Text

die together, hae-jo | mr plankton

six, uncasual sleepover

5389 words

The road stretched endlessly before them, the soft hum of the Jeep filling the quiet space between them. Seorin had long since succumbed to sleep, exhaustion wrapping her in its grasp as the gentle rocking of the car lulled her into unconsciousness. The last light of day melted into the horizon, casting a golden glow over the rolling hills before fading into the deep hues of twilight.

Hae-Jo kept one hand firm on the wheel, but his attention flickered to her every few minutes. The first time her head hit the window, he had ignored it, thinking she'd adjust. But then it happened again. And again.

At the third thud, he winced.

How does she sleep through that?

With a quiet chuckle, he reached over and gently cradled her face, guiding her head toward him. She nuzzled unconsciously into his shoulder, her breath warm against his shirt. His hand lingered at her cheek, his thumb lightly brushing over her soft skin before coming to rest there, holding her in place.

His heart clenched painfully.

She still pouted in her sleep, her lips jutted out just slightly, as if she were displeased even in her dreams. He had always found it ridiculously cute. Even back then, he used to tease her about it, whispering little jokes just to watch her frown deeper.

God, I'll miss this.

His grip on the wheel tightened as his throat grew dry, an ache pressing at the back of his eyes. A painful lump settled in his throat, but he swallowed it down, unwilling to let it win.

She had no idea how much he had wanted this—how badly he wished he could just rewind time, undo every mistake, take back every stupid thing he had ever said to her.

He wanted to be selfish.

He wanted to tell her the truth, to confess that he had lied that day in the park—that he never stopped loving her, that every moment without her felt like he was walking toward his grave faster than his condition already promised.

But he couldn't do that to her.

Instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the faint scent of lavender that still clung to her hair. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, disappearing into the strands.

"I'm so sorry, Ae-in," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind rushing past them.

She shifted slightly, her brows knitting together for a second before relaxing back into her usual pout.

A sad smile tugged at his lips.

"I do love you," he murmured, his voice breaking just slightly.

He quickly wiped his face with the back of his hand before returning both to the wheel, eyes fixed on the winding road ahead.

Truth be told, he wanted to pull over right there and let himself break. But he couldn't.

He wouldn't let his last moments with her be heavy with sorrow.

The neon glow of a wooden sign illuminated the road ahead, growing clearer as the Jeep approached:

30 Year Tradition: Sundae Soup of Fortune

Hae-Jo pulled into an empty parking spot just as the GPS confirmed their arrival. The faint aroma of broth and spice hung in the night air, but his focus remained on the woman sleeping peacefully beside him.

He sighed, his shoulder aching from holding her in the same position for so long. Carefully, he withdrew his arm, rubbing the stiffness away before turning toward her fully.

She looked so peaceful.

For once, he hesitated to wake her.

He always ruined her peace, one way or another.

Sighing, he reached out, cupping her face gently in his hands. His thumbs brushed delicate circles against her skin, memorizing the warmth, the softness—the way her lashes fluttered slightly at his touch.

"Ae-in," he murmured.

She scrunched her nose, her lips pressing together in faint protest.

His grin deepened. "I know, but you're hungry, right?"

Her lashes lifted, her sleep-laden eyes peeking up at him.

His heart lurched.

She looked vulnerable like this—unguarded, drowsy, the walls she had built around herself momentarily lowered. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, to have her wake up next to him every day like they used to, curled into his side, mumbling half-awake complaints that he always found adorable.

But that was wishful thinking.

She blinked at him once before groaning. "I want food."

Hae-Jo laughed, the sound genuine as he pulled away. He stepped out of the Jeep, walking to her side before she could even reach for the handle. With a quick, practiced motion, he pulled the door open and extended a hand.

"M'Lady."

She rolled her eyes but took his hand anyway as he helped her down.

"Why do you keep doing that?"

He shrugged as he closed the Jeep door behind her, his smirk widening. "Because you're a princess."

The teasing remark made her pause, her expression faltering slightly.

She wasn't sure why, but something in his tone felt... different.

The warmth of the restaurant wrapped around them as they stepped inside, a stark contrast to the cool evening air. The rich scent of simmering broth and spices lingered, settling deep in Seorin's chest. It was the kind of place that felt untouched by time, with wooden tables polished from years of use and old framed photographs lining the walls.

She rubbed her arms absentmindedly, shifting on her feet as she took in the cozy atmosphere. The feeling of stepping into a place like this—quiet, familiar, and far too intimate—made something uneasy stir in her stomach.

Hae-Jo, of course, walked in beside her like he belonged there, his presence filling every empty space effortlessly. He moved ahead, scanning the restaurant with a smirk, hands tucked lazily in his pockets. But she noticed how he kept glancing at her, like he wanted to make sure she was still beside him.

Before she could say anything, an older man behind the counter looked up and let out a sigh.

"Oh no, I wish you had gotten here a little sooner," he said regretfully, adjusting his glasses.

Seorin and Hae-Jo both turned toward him.

"I'm sorry, our kitchen's closed," the man continued, shaking his head. "At Sundae Soup of Fortune, our last order is at 9:30 p.m. You're a little late."

Hae-Jo let out an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head back like the world had personally conspired against him. "Unbelievable."

Seorin barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Always so dramatic.

But before she could respond—before she could even think—Hae-Jo moved.

His arm slid around her waist in one smooth motion, pulling her into his side with the kind of familiarity that made her body react before her mind could process it.

Seorin stiffened.

His palm pressed against the curve of her hip, warm and steady. His touch wasn't rushed or hesitant—it was practiced, like muscle memory. Like he had never stopped holding her like this.

And then, before she could push him away, before she could question him—

"I drove six hours here," Hae-Jo began smoothly, his voice effortlessly persuasive, "because my pregnant wife was craving your famous sundae soup."

Seorin's heart stopped.

Her mind blanked, every thought crashing into itself in a tangled mess of panic.

What?

How did he—?

No. He couldn't know.

She forced herself to think rationally, to breathe. Hae-Jo was impulsive, reckless, and sharp-tongued, but he was terrible at keeping secrets. If he had figured it out, he wouldn't have been able to stay quiet about it.

Which meant...

He was lying.

Her breath left her in a slow, silent exhale. But just as relief started to settle in, the old man gasped.

"Oh my, congratulations!" His eyes dropped immediately to her stomach, a delighted smile spreading across his face.

Hae-Jo's hand on her waist didn't move, his grip firm yet gentle. His thumb brushed absently against the exposed skin of her lower back.

Seorin nearly jumped at the touch.

"Can you help us out?" Hae-Jo asked, his voice laced with just enough sincerity to be convincing.

The man hesitated before sighing in defeat. "Are you being serious? Six whole hours?"

Hae-Jo nodded, his smirk deepening. "Would I lie about my wife's cravings?"

Seorin clenched her fists. I hate him. I really, truly hate him.

The older man chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Let me check if we have any soup left. Have a seat, I'll be right back."

Seorin bowed slightly in thanks, though her face burned with frustration.

As soon as the man disappeared, she turned to Hae-Jo, her voice sharp.

"Pregnant?" she hissed.

Hae-Jo smirked down at her, finally pulling his arm away. "It was the best excuse I could think of."

Her jaw clenched. "And wife? Why did you say we were married?"

He didn't answer right away.

Instead, he moved away from her and strode toward an empty table.

She followed instinctively, still fuming, but then—just as he always had—Hae-Jo reached out and pulled out a chair for her.

Her breath caught.

For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed, like this was just another night between them. Like he would sit beside her the way he always had, their knees brushing under the table, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her thigh as he talked about something ridiculous.

But then—

Instead of taking the seat beside her, Hae-Jo walked around the table.

And he sat across from her.

Seorin faltered, something twisting deep in her chest.

The empty space beside her felt unnatural.

Wrong.

She hated how much she noticed it.

She wasn't supposed to care where he sat.

She wasn't supposed to feel the absence of his presence next to her.

But she did.

Hae-Jo leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs as if he hadn't just thrown her entire world off balance. His gaze flickered to hers, and for a second—just a second—there was something wistful in his eyes.

"You were supposed to be," he finally murmured.

The words were soft, yet heavy.

Seorin swallowed hard. She glanced away, her arms folding tightly across her chest. "Not my fault."

Hae-Jo exhaled slowly, his fingers curling against the edge of the table. He looked down, his voice quieter than before.

"I know."

She almost didn't hear it.

Or maybe she did, but pretended not to.

And as the warmth of the restaurant wrapped around them, they sat in silence—two people who had once been everything to each other, now sitting across from one another.

So much distance packed into a single wooden table.

So much left unsaid between them.

So much that could have been.

Hae-Jo leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms as if the weight of the day was nothing but an inconvenience to him. His casual demeanor was effortless, but Seorin wasn't fooled. She had spent too many years learning the language of his body, the way he masked his real thoughts behind that smirk, the way he deflected with humor when something unsettled him.

"We'll have to hang around here until maybe tomorrow afternoon," he said, rolling his shoulders, eyes flicking away from hers.

Seorin frowned, setting her spoon down against the cloth napkin. "Why? I thought you had places to be."

He clicked his tongue, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he subtly nodded toward the kitchen. "Candidate number one."

His confidence was as cocky as ever, but there was something behind his eyes—something restrained, something uncertain.

"Oh."

She watched him carefully, studying the way his fingers tapped against the wooden table in an uneven rhythm. He was trying too hard to seem nonchalant, but there was an energy in him that betrayed the act.

Without thinking, she brought her hand to her mouth, biting at the tip of her nail absentmindedly. It was a nervous habit, one she had never managed to break.

Before she could react, warmth encased her hand.

Hae-Jo's fingers wrapped around hers, pulling it away from her lips.

"Bad habit, Ae-in," he murmured, his voice low, almost affectionate.

Her cheeks flushed, a flicker of embarrassment crossing her face. She quickly tucked her hands beneath the table, pressing them against the fabric of her dress.

She had forgotten how easily he could reach for her, how natural it was for him to touch her without hesitation. The way he did it now—so casually, so familiarly—made her stomach twist.

"Sorry," she mumbled, looking away.

Hae-Jo watched her for a beat longer than necessary before shifting back in his seat, pretending to be absorbed by the sounds coming from the kitchen.

A moment later, the old man reappeared, pushing a cart with two steaming bowls.

"Here we are!" the man announced, his voice warm and welcoming. "Lots of extra liver and intestines, just how you like it."

Seorin's face lit up at the sight of the food, her hunger growing unbearable. "Aw, you didn't have to do that."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she glanced toward Hae-Jo and immediately froze.

She remembered too late.

"Ah, right—he's not a fan of blood sausages and liver," she blurted, her hand flying to cover her mouth. "He always said the smell bothered him."

The words had come too naturally, slipping from her like a reflex, like they were still together.

She felt the air shift.

Hae-Jo paused, his grin faltering for a fraction of a second before he let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah... I wish you had told me that sooner."

Seorin turned quickly toward the man, trying to shake off the awkward moment. "No, it's okay. I'm sure he'll be fine. Thank you so much, I'm sure it'll be plenty for the baby if he won't eat it."

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "You're so tiny, though! How many months are you?"

Her hand instinctively drifted to her stomach, a small, automatic motion she didn't even realize she was doing.

Just as she was about to answer—

"She should be three or four."

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her eyes widened slightly as she turned to look at him, her fingers gripping the fabric of her dress.

Did he know?

No. He was guessing. He had to be.

She studied his face, searching for any sign of realization, but Hae-Jo's smirk remained perfectly in place. If anything, he looked amused.

The old man clapped his hands together. "Ah, congratulations to you two! Such a beautiful couple." He sighed fondly, glancing toward the kitchen. "My daughter-in-law is due next month, but we can't get her to stop working in that kitchen."

Seorin turned her head and found herself staring at the heavily pregnant woman in the back. The woman wiped down a table, her body moving slower, her exhaustion evident, but she still smiled, listening to the conversations around her.

A strange pang of longing settled deep in Seorin's chest.

Would she make it that far? Would she ever reach that stage?

Would she even have someone beside her when the time came?

She wasn't supposed to doubt.

But the fear clung to her, wrapping around her ribcage like a vice.

"She's such a workaholic," the old man chuckled.

Seorin barely heard him.

But Hae-Jo...

Hae-Jo was looking at the family.

His gaze had softened, the cocky energy he always carried suddenly dimming. His fingers curled slightly against the table, his expression unreadable.

"They all used to live somewhere else until I collapsed and got sick a year ago," the old man continued. "Then they insisted on moving back here. They're such good boys. You can't even imagine."

Hae-Jo's grip on his glass tightened.

For a brief moment, the mask cracked.

"...What happened?" His voice was quieter now, careful. "You were sick?"

The hope in his tone was subtle—so subtle that if Seorin hadn't known him better, she wouldn't have noticed it.

She did.

She always would.

"Oh, just a small stroke. Nothing major. I'm all better now."

The weight of disappointment was instant.

Hae-Jo's body shifted, his shoulders relaxing in forced nonchalance. He leaned back, letting out a breath.

Not him.

Not this time.

He barely had time to let it settle before he quickly covered it up with a smirk. "Oh, your hair."

Seorin's brows knitted together. "What?"

Hae-Jo suddenly leaned forward, plucking a single strand from the old man's head with practiced ease.

"I'll help you," he said smoothly, tucking the hair away.

The old man yelped, rubbing his scalp. "Oh! That hurt."

Hae-Jo waved him off. "Don't worry, I got it."

As the man left, Seorin gave him a look of disbelief. "You took his hair?"

Hae-Jo twirled it between his fingers before slipping it into his pocket. "DNA," he replied simply, pouring himself a shot of soju.

Seorin shook her head as she picked up her chopsticks. Before she could take a bite, his next words nearly made her choke.

"So, why were you crying at the hospital?"

She sputtered, coughing violently.

Hae-Jo leaned in slightly, amusement playing on his lips, but there was something behind it—something too sharp, too focused.

"How did you know I was at the hospital?" she asked, eyes wide.

"I was there," he said smugly. "And I saw you."

Her brows furrowed in concern. "Why were you there?"

"Crashed my motorcycle while on an errand."

"Hae-Jo!" Her voice rose, her eyes scanning him for injuries. "Are you okay? What were you thinking? I told you time and time again to stop riding that thing!"

He smirked, watching her fuss over him. "You still care about me?"

She froze.

Her lips parted, her hands tightening into fists on the table.

Finally, she sighed. "...Yes, I still care about you, idiot."

She slapped his arm. "Stop trying to get yourself killed." Hae-Jo's smirk almost dropped.

If only you knew, Ae-in.

"Okay," he murmured. She sighed, pushing the soup toward him. "Try to eat." He wrinkled his nose. "No thanks."

"Just try, please."

He groaned, picking up his chopsticks. "I'll eat," he said, "if you tell me why you were at the hospital." She rolled her eyes. "I was just doing a checkup and found out I'm anemic."

He paused. "That's why you were crying?"

"Yes!"

Hae-Jo blinked. Then he sighed, placing a hand over hers.

"Okay, okay. Geez."

Keeping his word, he tossed the piece of sausage into his mouth.

Seorin laughed as he grimaced.

And for just a second, everything felt normal again.

Slowly, the two began to eat, though the silence between them grew heavier with each passing minute. Seorin focused on her bowl, occasionally glancing up only to find Hae-Jo picking at his food, his chopsticks carefully avoiding anything he deemed unappetizing. His nose scrunched every time he pushed aside the blood sausage, his lips twitching in faint distaste.

She let out a small huff of amusement. Some things never change.

Despite the warmth of the meal, despite the flickering glow of the restaurant lights, there was an undeniable tension sitting between them. Not the kind of tension they used to share—the playful, teasing kind where his hand would brush against hers just to see if she'd swat him away, where he'd steal bites of her food only to grin when she protested.

No, this was different.

This was heavier.

By the time their bowls were empty, the weight of everything unspoken had wrapped around them like an invisible force. The easy flow of conversation from earlier had faded into something more uncertain, more delicate.

When the kind family returned to clear their dishes, Seorin barely noticed, exhaustion settling into her limbs. The warmth of the meal left her drowsy, and the ache in her shoulders from sitting in the Jeep for hours was beginning to make itself known.

She stretched as she followed Hae-Jo toward the counter, her fingers brushing lightly over the fabric of her dress as she tried to shake the sleepiness from her body.

"With the bottle of soju, your total comes out to 20,000 won," the old man informed them, wiping his hands on a small towel as he stood behind the counter.

Hae-Jo patted his pockets, a frown quickly replacing the smug expression he had worn all evening. His fingers moved faster, checking his back pockets, then the inside of his coat.

His shoulders stiffened.

"Did you leave it at the shop?" Seorin asked, a flicker of worry crossing her features.

Hae-Jo pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Ah, the gas station. I stopped when you were sleeping."

Seorin nibbled on her lower lip, her fingers fidgeting at the hem of her sleeve. She didn't have any cash on her either, and though she was sure they could work something out, the idea of not being able to pay left a sinking feeling in her stomach.

The old man must have noticed, because he let out a hearty chuckle, shaking his head. "You came all the way out here just to eat, so it's on the house. No worries. You should go look for your wallet tomorrow."

Hae-Jo blinked, clearly caught off guard by the generosity. "Are you sure? I don't mind—"

The man waved him off. "I insist. Just think of it as a thank-you for the company tonight."

Seorin let out a relieved breath, bowing deeply. "Thank you so much."

But just as she thought they were about to leave, Hae-Jo suddenly reached out, his fingers lightly touching the man's arm.

"Uh, since you're already being so helpful... could we bother you to let us stay the night?" His tone was easy, smooth, but there was an underlying hesitation beneath it—something subtle, something almost nervous.

Seorin's head snapped toward him.

The old man paused, his eyes flicking between the two of them. His expression was unreadable for a moment, as if he were considering the request, weighing his options. But then, his gaze settled on Seorin—the woman he still believed to be pregnant—and his face softened.

"Why not?" he said with a smile, swinging his arm toward the back of the restaurant. "Follow me."

Seorin let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, the stiffness in her neck suddenly more apparent now that she knew she wouldn't have to sleep sitting up in the Jeep again.

Hae-Jo, satisfied with the response, casually reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers as they followed the man outside.

Seorin stiffened.

She could have pulled away. Should have pulled away.

But she didn't.

The small room the man led them to was nestled outside the main restaurant, tucked between an old shed and a narrow alleyway. He unlocked the door, stepping aside to let them in.

It wasn't much.

The space was cluttered along the walls with various storage boxes and odds and ends, but there was a fan, a pile of folded blankets, and a small, old-fashioned TV sitting on a wooden crate. It was simple, cramped, but to Seorin, it was more than enough.

Hae-Jo took a long look around, his eyes scanning the space with a small smirk. "Five-star accommodations," he muttered under his breath.

Seorin elbowed him lightly, shooting him a look before turning back to the man. "This is perfect. Really, thank you so much."

The old man grinned. "It's nothing. Sleep well, you two."

As he walked away, Seorin and Hae-Jo both turned, bowing deeply in thanks before stepping inside, sliding their shoes off and leaving them by the door.

The moment they were alone, the silence stretched between them again.

"You can stay there."

His words halted Seorin mid-step as she reached for the blankets, her fingers pausing against the fabric.

"I'll make the pallets," Hae-Jo added, already lowering himself to his knees, the wooden floor creaking beneath him.

Seorin watched in silence as he worked, his hands smoothing out the makeshift beds with surprising care. The blankets were layered neatly, pillows placed at just the right angle. He left a few inches of space between them—just enough for distance, but not enough to make it feel cold.

He patted the soft material beside him, tilting his head. "Here, lay down."

Seorin hesitated, standing at the doorway with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. But when she finally stepped forward, placing her hand in his, his grip was steady, warm.

She let him guide her down gently, careful that she didn't trip over the folds of her dress. His fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary before he let go, watching as she slipped under the blanket and shifted to get comfortable.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

She turned onto her side, facing him. "Can you turn on the fan, please?"

His gaze followed hers to the small fan across the room, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, he nodded in understanding.

Of course. She always slept with a fan. She liked the white noise, the feeling of cold air against her skin. He had never understood it at first, but after years of falling asleep beside her, he had adjusted. Now, he found himself unable to sleep without it either.

He reached forward, flipping the switch to high. The fan whirred to life, sending a cool breeze rippling through the small room, rustling their blankets.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice almost lost beneath the hum.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then—

"You didn't have to hold my hand," she said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm.

Hae-Jo tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Didn't I?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No."

He let out a low hum, as if considering her words. Then, with a small, easy smirk, he leaned in slightly. "You didn't let go."

Seorin's breath caught in her throat.

Her fingers curled slightly against the blanket, her gaze flickering away. "I wasn't thinking."

Hae-Jo watched her carefully, his smirk still in place, but his eyes...

His eyes told a different story.

For a second—just a second—the cocky facade slipped.

There was something there. Something quiet. Something wistful.

Something longing.

But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by a lazy grin as he reached for the TV remote.

"Relax, Ae-in," he teased, turning on the old television. "I won't steal your virtue."

Seorin scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned over, tugging the blanket up around her shoulders.

Hae-Jo, however, didn't move.

He watched as her breath evened out, as the tension in her body slowly faded. He let his gaze linger on her face for a moment longer, watching the way her lips parted slightly as she drifted into thought.

You should have been my wife, he thought.

But he didn't say it.

Instead, he leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly as he turned his gaze to the ceiling.

One week, he reminded himself. That's all I have left with her.

He closed his eyes.

Make it count.

Hae-Jo turned back, only to find her already watching him.

Their eyes locked in the dim moonlight, the silver glow filtering in through the tiny window above them. The light softened her features, casting delicate shadows across her cheekbones, her lips. His stomach twisted at the sight.

"Seorin."

Her name left his lips as barely more than a whisper.

He crawled under his own blankets, mirroring her position. Face to face. Close, but not quite close enough.

"Yeah?" Her voice was soft, hesitant.

Hae-Jo swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He had so many things he wanted to say, so many words that had been bottled up for five months, clawing at his insides.

I'm sorry. I regret everything. I should have never let you go. I want you back. I love you.

But when he opened his mouth, the words lodged in his throat, refusing to come out.

"I—"

He faltered. His fingers curled slightly against the sheets.

Seorin waited, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched, thick and heavy between them.

He exhaled, forcing a small smirk. "Are you comfortable?"

Seorin blinked, almost as if she had expected something else. Then, after a brief pause, she nodded.

The moonlight caught on her skin, highlighting the delicate curve of her nose, the faint part of her lips. She looked so much like the girl he used to fall asleep beside every night—so much like the woman he still loved, even now.

His breath hitched.

For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to pretend. Pretend that nothing had changed. Pretend that they were still together, that this wasn't temporary.

Pretend that she was still his.

But reality crashed down on him the moment he turned away, forcing his back to her.

The hum of the fan filled the silence, mixing with the sound of their breathing. The wooden floor beneath him was hard, the blanket too thin to provide real warmth, but he barely noticed. The weight in his chest was far heavier.

Minutes passed. Neither of them moved.

Then, just as his body began to sink into the lull of exhaustion, his quiet voice broke the silence.

"Don't run away."

Her entire body tensed.

The words were so soft, almost lost in the hum of the fan, but they struck something deep inside of her.

Slowly, he turned back toward her, only to find her already staring at him.

Her eyes searched his face, her brows slightly furrowed, as if she were trying to figure out something she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to.

"I won't," she whispered.

She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his. The touch sent a shiver down his spine.

Hae-Jo swallowed hard.

Before he could stop himself, before he could think about it too much, he closed the space between them.

His body hovered over hers, their faces barely an inch apart.

Seorin's breath caught, her eyes widening slightly, but she didn't move away. She didn't push him back.

"Hae-Jo," she breathed.

His gaze roamed her face, memorizing every detail.

She was still so beautiful. Still so familiar. The softness of her cheeks, the curve of her lips, the flutter of her lashes against his skin—he wanted to etch it all into his memory.

Like he was afraid he'd forget.

"Ae-in," he murmured.

His fingers ghosted over her cheek, barely a touch, but enough to send warmth trickling through his fingertips.

His thumb grazed the corner of her lips, feeling the way her breath trembled beneath his touch.

God, he wanted to kiss her.

But he couldn't. Not now.

Instead, he let his forehead fall against hers, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Can I lay with you?" His voice was barely more than a breath.

Seorin didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

His heart stuttered.

Carefully, he shifted, moving to lay behind her. The moment his arm wrapped around her, she folded into him, fitting against him like she always had, as if the past five months had never happened.

His chin rested against the top of her head, her back pressing into his chest. He could feel her heartbeat, steady and soft, echoing against him in the quiet room.

Her scent filled his lungs, something light and floral, mixed with something uniquely hers.

"I'm still mad at you," she whispered.

Hae-Jo let out a breathy laugh, his lips ghosting over her temple.

"I know."

His fingers traced soft circles against the back of her hand, memorizing the way she felt beneath his touch.

"I know..."

His voice trailed off into the silence, the words barely leaving his lips before sleep pulled him under.

The floor was uncomfortable. The blanket was thin.

But at this moment, he wouldn't ask for anything more.

Because for the first time in months—

He didn't feel alone.

#mr plankton hae jo #hae jo fanfic #haejo x reader #hae jo #mr plankton wattpad fic #mr plankton fic #mr plankton #woo do hwan #woodohwan x reader

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honeydixonn · 12 days ago

Text

die together, hae jo | mr plankton

five, mirror glances

3086 words

The sun hung high, golden rays filtering through the sparse branches of the oak tree where Hae-Jo stood, phone pressed lazily to his ear. His free hand shoved into his pocket, he leaned against the bark, his figure a mix of careless nonchalance and sharp, unspoken tension.

His annoyance was thinly veiled as Kkari's voice buzzed through the receiver. He tilted his head slightly, stealing a glance at Seorin. She was sprawled out on the grass, her figure illuminated by the warm sunlight. Her hair, kissed by the light, framed her face like a halo, and her eyes—those eyes that he couldn't forget no matter how much he tried—were fixed on him.

She's the most beautiful person I've ever known, he thought, his chest tightening as he caught her faint smile.

Mouthing Kkari, he rolled his eyes dramatically at her, his lips twitching into a smirk. She smiled wider, shaking her head as though she couldn't believe he was still the same flirty, cocky man she had once loved.

"On the road," he drawled into the phone, his tone deliberately casual.

"Okay, which road?" Kkari's voice was muffled but insistent, the underlying panic unmistakable.

Hae-Jo sighed, his fingers brushing the bark as he strolled closer to the edge of the road. "You coming to visit?" he asked, the sarcasm in his voice thick enough to cut through the air.

"When are you coming back?" Kkari's voice cracked slightly, catching him off guard.

His hand tightened around the phone as he glanced over his shoulder at Seorin. She lay on the grass, her face turned toward the sky, blissfully unaware of the turmoil behind his forced grin.

"Live your life, Kkari," he said, his voice quieter now. "Stop being my lackey."

There was a pause before Kkari spoke again, his voice quick and sharp. "Are you with anyone right now?"

Hae-Jo's lips curved into a lazy smile as he turned toward Seorin, raising his hand in a sarcastic wave. She noticed, arching a brow at him before sitting up and rummaging through her bag in the car.

"Just a really pretty lady," he replied, his gaze softening as he watched her search through the bag.

But something about her movements made his brow furrow. Her urgency was palpable, her expression tight with frustration.

"I've got to go. Call another time," he said, ending the call abruptly as Kkari tried to speak.

He took long strides back to the car, the sun catching the faint glint of sweat on his brow as he leaned against the roof. "Looking for something?" he asked, tilting his head as he peered down at her.

Seorin, bent over the bag, huffed in annoyance. "I think I forgot my phone charger. Shit."

She turned to face him, her body stiffening as she realized just how close he was. The small smirk tugging at his lips made her glare, though her heart betrayed her with a faint flutter.

"This feels familiar," he murmured, his voice low as his narrowed eyes gleamed with teasing mischief.

She groaned, pushing against his chest. "No, thank you," she said firmly, stepping back.

But before she could escape, he caught her wrist and spun her around with practiced ease. The move was smooth, calculated, and undeniably intimate.

"I'll buy you a charger when we get to town," he offered, his voice softer now, though his smirk remained.

Her eyes scanned his face, trying to decipher his intentions. Finally, she let out a small sigh and smiled faintly. "Okay."

She tugged her wrist free and turned, but the moment her foot hit the uneven ground, it twisted beneath her. She gasped, her arms flailing as she stumbled forward.

"Seorin!"

Hae-Jo's voice was sharp with panic as he lunged toward her, his knees hitting the dirt as he caught her. She had fallen hard, her knees sinking into the muddy ground. Her hands instinctively clutched her stomach, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Are you okay?" he asked urgently, his hands gripping her arms as he knelt beside her.

She hesitated, her chest rising and falling quickly. Slowly, she moved her hands from her stomach, the gesture catching his attention. Relief washed over him when she sat back, unharmed.

"Ah... my clothes," she mumbled, frowning as she looked at the mud streaking her jeans.

Hae-Jo stared at her in disbelief before letting out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "You just fell, and you're worried about your jeans?"

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly, her bottom lip poking out in a pout. "I just bought them two days ago."

He stared at her for a moment before a laugh burst from his lips, genuine and warm. "I forgot how clumsy you are," he teased, shaking his head as he bent down to brush the mud off her knees. "And dramatic, apparently."

She glared at him, but the corners of her lips twitched.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice light with humor as he helped her to her feet. "I'll buy you new jeans when we get to town."

She rolled her eyes, brushing her hands over her legs. "You think money solves everything, don't you?"

He smirked, his hand lingering on her arm for a second longer than necessary. "It's worked pretty well so far."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she turned away, brushing the mud off her clothes.

"Come on," he said, his tone softening as he nudged her toward the Jeep. "We should get moving before it gets dark."

She hesitated for a moment, glancing back at him. The light in his eyes, the faint worry still etched into his features, made her chest tighten.

With a small nod, she climbed into the passenger seat, watching as he rounded the Jeep to the driver's side.

As they pulled back onto the road, the tension between them felt heavier, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions.

The silence in the car stretched for a few minutes, punctuated only by the steady hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of wind through the open top of the Jeep. Seorin leaned her head against the headrest, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag as her thoughts swirled.

"Where are we going?" she asked, breaking the quiet.

Hae-Jo's eyes flicked toward her briefly before returning to the road, his jaw tightening slightly. His expression, though relaxed, carried a quiet determination. "Namwon."

She hummed softly, her gaze drifting out to the stretch of road ahead. "That's where the first candidate is?"

He nodded, his fingers tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel. "One out of five," he said, his voice calm but distant.

The quiet settled again as he reached for the stereo, twisting the knob until a familiar tune filled the small space. The soft strumming of California Dreamin' drifted through the speakers, and for a moment, it felt like time rewound.

Hae-Jo's lips curved into a small smirk as he hummed along, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. This had always been her favorite song. He remembered how she'd sing it at the top of her lungs on road trips, her laughter carrying through the air whenever he teased her about hitting the high notes.

Seorin caught the flicker of his gaze but pretended not to notice, instead staring out the windshield as the lyrics washed over her.

"Are you still running the errand place?" she asked suddenly, her tone casual but probing.

The humming stopped, and his smirk faltered. "Not anymore," he said simply, his fingers still drumming softly on the wheel.

Her brows knitted together as she turned her head toward him. "Why not?"

He shrugged as the first verse of the song played, his shoulders rising and falling with practiced ease. "I got bored."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she let out a dry scoff. "Oh, right. You just toss things away when you're bored."

Her words hung in the air, sharper than she'd intended. For a moment, his fingers stilled on the wheel, and she saw the faintest flicker of something in his expression—hurt, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Instead, he leaned into the song, his voice low as he sang along. "If I didn't tell her, I could leave today..."

The deliberate nonchalance made her want to roll her eyes, but she resisted, shifting in her seat.

"Can I use your phone?" she asked abruptly, hoping to change the subject.

His brow quirked in mild confusion, but he pulled the phone from his coat pocket, handing it over without hesitation. "Zero, one, zero, two," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

Her lips curled in mild disgust as she entered the passcode. "Easy ass password," she muttered, shaking her head.

"It's memorable," he countered, grinning as he watched her scoff.

She quickly texted her neighbor, asking if they could water her plant while she was out of town. Her thumbs hovered over the screen as her mind wandered, a pang of guilt tugging at her.

"Not telling anyone I kidnapped you, right?" he teased, his grin widening as he glanced at her.

Her eyes flicked to him in mock worry. "Should I delete the message?"

He let out a dramatic sigh, his lips curling into a pout. "No trust at all, Ae-in. None."

A short while later, Hae-Jo pulled into a gas station, the sun beating down on the faded asphalt. He killed the engine and leaned back, glancing at her. "You want anything?"

She shook her head without looking at him.

"Don't ask me why I didn't get you anything later," he warned, his tone teasing. He exited the jeep and stood by the passenger side.

Her lips twitched as she finally looked his way. "Something salty," she murmured, rolling over to face away from him.

He chuckled, leaning down to rest his arms on the edge of her open window. "What happened to 'I don't want anything'?"

"Just go," she huffed, waving him off, but her voice lacked any real bite.

He smiled, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Her silhouette against the sunlight, her hair spilling over her shoulder, the way she looked so effortlessly like the woman he loved—it was almost too much to bear.

"Be right back," he said, pushing off the Jeep and heading inside.

Seorin waited, the soft hum of the cooling engine filling the air. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, her thoughts racing. It was surreal to be here with him again, so close yet so far from the man she once knew.

The sound of the door opening pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to see Hae-Jo sauntering back, a plastic bag in hand and his usual smug grin plastered across his face.

He held the bag up triumphantly. "Salty, as requested," he said, tossing it into her lap before climbing back into the driver's seat.

She peeked inside, finding a pack of chips and a can of coke. "You actually listened," she muttered, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"Don't look so shocked," he replied, starting the engine. "I'm not a total ass."

Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile as she opened the bag, the familiar crunch filling the air.

As the Jeep pulled back onto the road, the tension between them eased slightly, though the weight of their unspoken thoughts lingered.

Hae-Jo glanced at her again, his heart aching with the knowledge of how little time he had. But for now, he held onto the fleeting moments of her laughter, her voice, and the faint flickers of who they used to be.

And Seorin, as much as she tried to push it away, felt a pang of longing in her chest.

One week, she reminded herself. That's all I'm giving him.

But something told her it wouldn't be enough.

The Jeep rolled to a stop in front of a small, unassuming store. The town around them looked like a relic of another time, with cracked sidewalks and faded paint on the storefronts. The streets were eerily quiet, not a single soul in sight, save for the two of them.

Hae-Jo glanced at the shop sign, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "No way. A designer store way out here?"

The sign read Givenchy Fashion Accessories, its lettering slightly worn but still elegant.

Seorin leaned forward, her skeptical gaze scanning the shop. "This feels like a trap," she muttered, her voice laced with suspicion.

Hae-Jo laughed as he stepped out of the Jeep, quickly circling to her side. He opened her door with a dramatic bow, his grin widening. "M'lady."

She scoffed but couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at her lips. "Oh, am I royalty now?"

"To me, you always were," he said softly, his tone light but tinged with something deeper.

Her breath caught for a moment before she brushed past him, stepping onto the uneven pavement. He followed close behind, pushing open the store door with a cheerful chime.

Inside, the store was surprisingly neat, with polished wooden floors and carefully curated displays. A friendly older woman behind the counter looked up and greeted them with a warm smile, though her eyes briefly flicked over their muddy clothes.

"Get whatever you want," Hae-Jo instructed, his tone casual as he wandered toward the men's section.

Seorin rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "How generous of you."

She approached the woman, her voice soft but polite. "Hi, where are the women's jeans?"

The shopkeeper gestured toward a section near the back, and Seorin followed. But as she walked, her eyes caught on something else—a beautiful midi dress in a brownish-green tattersall print. Its soft fabric seemed to shimmer faintly under the warm lighting, and before she could stop herself, she reached for it.

Ignoring the jeans, she clutched the dress to her chest and glanced over at Hae-Jo, who was shamelessly watching her from across the store.

"I'm going to the changing room," she muttered, avoiding his gaze as she walked past him.

Hae-Jo tracked her every movement, his chest tightening as she disappeared into the dressing room. She still had that same way of walking—confident yet unassuming, with a sway that pulled his eyes no matter how hard he tried to look away.

"Beautiful woman you have there," the shopkeeper said softly, her words laced with genuine admiration.

His lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice low. "Very beautiful."

The shopkeeper nodded approvingly and returned to her work as Hae-Jo picked out a fresh white button-up and a pair of light-washed jeans. He stood waiting near the dressing rooms, but the minutes dragged on, and his impatience grew.

He glanced at his watch, the ticking feeling louder than it should have been. Time, he thought bitterly. Why do I always feel like I'm running out of it?

"Taking her sweet time," he muttered under his breath, his foot tapping against the floor.

To distract himself, he turned to the shopkeeper. "No windows in here, right?"

The woman shook her head, smiling politely.

With that reassurance, he shrugged off his muddy button-up, pulling it over his head in one swift motion.

The shopkeeper let out a startled gasp, quickly averting her gaze. "Oh my," she stammered, turning away but sneaking a flustered glance from behind a rack.

Hae-Jo smirked, unbothered, as he slipped into the fresh jeans, fastening the belt with practiced ease. The white button-up slid over his shoulders, and he left the top two buttons undone, the open neckline hinting at the toned frame beneath.

Just as he finished adjusting the cuffs, Seorin emerged from the dressing room, the dress held shyly to her chest. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, and she bit her lip as she met his gaze.

His breath caught for a moment, and he quickly masked it with a smirk. "That's a good look on you."

"Can you tie the back?" she asked, her voice quieter now, as though she was reluctant to ask for his help.

He nodded, motioning for her to turn around. She stood in front of the mirror, her reflection catching his eye as he stepped closer.

His fingers brushed against her back as he reached for the loose ends of the fabric, the soft skin beneath the open back of the dress sending a jolt through him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he began to tie the material into a neat bow.

The mirror reflected her face, her expression softer than he'd seen in months. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes avoiding his as a faint pink crept up her neck.

"You've done this before," she teased lightly, her voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze lingered on her in the mirror, his lips curling into a wistful smile. "You'd be surprised what I remember."

Her breath hitched as his hands slid to rest lightly on either side of her waist. Their eyes met in the reflection, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"My Ae-in," he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Her breath caught, her hand moving to rest on top of his. "Not your Ae-in," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

She turned to face him, his hands falling away as the space between them shrank. His smirk faltered, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

"You were mine," he said softly, his voice thick with longing.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes searching his face. "Not anymore," she replied, her words firm but carrying a trace of sadness.

He nodded slowly, his chest tightening as she stepped away, the distance between them feeling far greater than the few feet that separated them.

"Let's pay for the clothes," she said, breaking the silence as she turned toward the counter.

He watched her go, the bow on the back of her dress swaying gently with each step.

Not anymore, her words echoed in his mind, cutting deeper than he cared to admit.

And as he followed her to the register, his heart ached with the knowledge that the time he had left wasn't enough to win her back.

#mr plankton wattpad fic #mr plankton hae jo #mr plankton fic #mr plankton #hae jo fanfic #haejo x reader #hae jo #kdrama fic

10 notes · View notes

honeydixonn · 12 days ago

Text

die together, hae jo | mr plankton

three, knocks

2857 words

Seorin moved through her small apartment, the light filtering softly through the curtains as she dusted the shelves and rearranged the sparse decorations. The faint hum of her fridge filled the air, the magnet holding her next appointment date in plain sight. She avoided looking at it too long—it only reminded her of how little time she had to figure everything out.

She worked methodically, her hands steady as she picked up picture frames and wiped the surfaces beneath them. The mundane task kept her grounded, but when she reached the last frame, her movements faltered.

It was a photo she'd thought about throwing away countless times but never had the courage to. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the black frame, her eyes tracing the image inside.

The picture was simple—she and Hae-Jo, dressed in a white sundress and a sharp suit, standing under a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. They had been laughing when it was taken, their joy almost tangible. She remembered how he'd joked that they looked like newlyweds, and her heart had swelled with the thought of it.

But that dream had shattered.

Her grip on the frame tightened as she forced herself to set it down, turning it away from her line of sight.

The baby's room was next, a work in progress she had been putting off for too long. She stepped inside and smiled faintly at the small pile of clothes her neighbor had lent her. The family across the hall had two sons, now out of the toddler stage, and they had generously given her a bag of hand-me-downs.

She picked up a onesie with a bear printed on it, her fingers smoothing over the soft fabric. The room still felt empty, missing the big items like a crib and a changing table, but she reminded herself that she had time. Five months felt both like an eternity and a breath.

The knock on her door startled her. She set the onesie down carefully and wiped her hands on her sweater before heading to the door. Assuming it was her neighbor with more clothes, she didn't bother checking the peephole.

Her heart nearly stopped when she opened the door.

Standing there, hands stuffed into his pockets and a cocky grin plastered on his face, was Hae-Jo.

"Ae-in," he said, his voice soft but playful, as if testing how it felt to say her name again.

Seorin's hand gripped the doorframe tightly, her knuckles whitening as she steadied herself. Her chest tightened, and her throat felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. "Hae-Jo..."

His grin widened, though there was a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. "I was in the neighborhood," he said, rocking slightly on his heels. "Thought I'd drop by and see my favorite ex."

Her stomach flipped at his casual tone, a mixture of anger and longing bubbling up inside her. He looked just the same as he had four months ago, yet somehow, the sight of him felt foreign.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

"Is that how you greet guests now?" he teased, his grin still firmly in place. "I'm drenched, you know. Are you really going to make me beg to come inside?"

She hesitated, her mind racing. The apartment wasn't prepared for his presence. There were baby clothes in the next room, hints of her pregnancy scattered in plain sight. But she couldn't stand in the doorway forever, and his smug demeanor only made her want to put him in his place.

With a sigh, she stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Fine. Come in."

He walked in confidently, his hands still stuffed in his pockets as he glanced around the space. "Cozy," he commented, his tone light but probing.

"Make yourself at home, I guess," she muttered.

She could feel his eyes taking everything in—the minimalist furniture, the faint scent of lavender, the signs of a life carefully held together. Her stomach churned, knowing that just beyond the living room was the baby's room.

"I'll grab something," she muttered, slipping quickly into the other room.

Once inside, she worked fast, gathering the clothes and shoving them into a drawer. She glanced around to make sure nothing else gave her away—the small box of diapers, the folded baby blanket—and closed the closet door with shaking hands.

When she returned, Hae-Jo was leaning against the counter, his hands in his pockets again. He looked relaxed, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched. "You've got good taste,"a familiar smirk on his face as he picked up a small trinket from the shelf, turning the item over in his hands.

"Cut to the chase, Hae-Jo," she said, crossing her arms. "Why are you here?"

He placed the trinket back carefully, leaning back against the counter as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I wanted to talk to you," he said casually, though his voice had an edge of something deeper.

"About what?"

He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his damp hair. "I'm looking for my biological father. Figured it's time I tie up some loose ends, you know? Get some closure. And..." He hesitated, but quickly masked it with a grin. "I need someone to come with me."

She stared at him, her mind racing. "Why would I want to help you with that?"

"Because you know me better than anyone," he said softly. "You always did."

His words were like a knife, cutting through her carefully built defenses. "You left me, Hae-Jo. You don't get to show up here and ask me for anything."

"I know," he admitted, stepping closer. "And I'll never stop regretting it. But I can't do this alone."

She turned away, her hands gripping the counter as she tried to steady herself. His presence was overwhelming, stirring up feelings she thought she'd buried.

I don't know, Hae-Jo," she said finally. "Things are... different now."

"Different how?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You've got a new boyfriend or something?"

Her head snapped toward him, her glare sharp. "That's none of your business."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin faltering for a moment. "Fair enough. But this isn't about the past, Seorin. It's about... making things right. For both of us."

"Think about it," he urged. "It's not just for me—it's for you, too. Closure. Answers. And... maybe a chance to figure things out."

Her head snapped toward him. "Figure things out? You think this will fix what you broke?"

"No," he said, his voice quiet. "But maybe it's a start."

"I'll think about it," she said, her voice quieter now.

"That's all I'm asking," he replied, his smirk returning as he headed for the door. "Take your time, but don't take too long. I'm not exactly getting younger over here."

He slid his hands into his coat pockets, his fingers curling tightly into fists as though trying to steady himself. The tension in the room was palpable, and his smile—though cocky and self-assured on the surface—was a poorly disguised attempt to mask the vulnerability simmering beneath.

As he turned toward the door, he hesitated for a moment, glancing over his shoulder. His dark eyes softened, the usual mischievous spark replaced by something far more raw, something closer to desperation. The faint lines around his eyes, etched from sleepless nights and too many cigarettes, deepened as he spoke.

"I'll come back tomorrow at noon," he said, his voice quieter now, lacking the bravado he'd carried through the conversation. His gaze flicked briefly to her, searching for something—agreement, hesitation, anything that might give him hope. "Maybe the rain will clear up by then. Just... think about it, Ae-in. One last adventure."

Her lips curved into a short, hesitant smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. She gave him a small nod, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, as though she were holding herself together.

For a moment, he lingered, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His eyes dropped to the floor before he dipped his head in a polite nod. "Take care," he added softly, the words barely audible before he turned and opened the door.

The rain greeted him immediately, cold and relentless, the sound of it hitting the pavement echoing faintly in the hallway. He stepped out without hesitation, letting the downpour soak through his hair and coat once again. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound feeling far more final than he wanted it to.

Seorin remained rooted in place, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as she stared at the door. Her chest felt tight, her breath shallow as her mind raced. The faint scent of rain and his cologne lingered in the air—a mix of something sharp and musky, a scent she had tried to forget but couldn't.

She closed her eyes, her fingers trembling as they curled into fists. Her mind flashed with images of his face—the slight twitch of his jaw when he tried to hold back his emotions, the faint shadow of stubble along his chin, and the way his lips curved just slightly as he spoke her name.

"One last adventure," she murmured to herself, the words tasting bittersweet on her tongue.

Her gaze drifted to the shelves, to the picture she had turned down earlier. She reached for it now, her fingers brushing the edge of the frame as if touching it would bring her closer to the past.

The photo was still the same—two people frozen in a moment of happiness that felt a lifetime away. But now, with him standing in her apartment just minutes ago, the weight of that happiness felt heavier than ever.

Outside, Hae-Jo's steps slowed as he reached the bottom of the stairs. The rain poured over him, matting his hair to his forehead and running down the lines of his face. He tilted his head back, letting the cold droplets hit his skin, as though they could wash away the gnawing ache in his chest.

His heart still raced, his mind replaying the brief moments he had spent in her presence. The way her lips had trembled when she first saw him, the flicker of hesitation in her eyes when he'd said her name, one of endearment he's always used—it was all burned into his memory now.

What am I even doing? he thought bitterly, rubbing a hand over his face. He hadn't planned for it to hurt this much, seeing her again. But then again, how could it not?

His hands shook as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, shielding it from the rain as he lit it. The first drag was sharp and bitter, but it steadied him, gave him something to hold onto.

"Tomorrow," he muttered to himself, the smoke curling around his words. "One last shot."

He stared up at her window, the light still on inside. He could almost see her silhouette moving across the room, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself believe that maybe she was thinking about him too.

But the thought was short-lived. He dropped the cigarette onto the wet pavement, crushing it under his shoe as he turned to leave. The rain continued to fall, each drop a steady reminder of all the things he had lost.

The faint hum of the heater filled the small apartment as Seorin prepared for bed, her movements slower than usual, weighed down by her racing thoughts. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the fluorescent light casting a pale glow on her face. Her reflection stared back at her, her expression conflicted.

She reached for her moisturizer, her fingers pausing mid-air as the image of Hae-Jo flashed through her mind. The way he had stood in her doorway, dripping with rain but still carrying that maddeningly confident smirk. His dark eyes had softened just enough to betray the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

Her hands trembled as she rubbed the cream into her skin, her mind replaying his words over and over.

"One last adventure."

Her heart twisted. He always knew how to phrase things in a way that tugged at her emotions, that made her feel like he was offering her something extraordinary. He had always been persuasive, able to bend even the firmest of her convictions with a smile and a few carefully chosen words.

But this time, it wasn't that simple.

In the quiet of her bedroom, Seorin slipped under the covers, the soft fabric offering little comfort as her thoughts continued to spiral. The rain outside had softened to a faint drizzle, the occasional patter against the window the only sound in the room.

She couldn't stop thinking about him. About how he had looked at her, his gaze lingering just a little too long, as if he were searching for something. About the way his voice had softened when he called her Ae-in, the endearment striking a chord she thought she'd silenced months ago.

Her fingers brushed against her belly absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting to the life growing inside her. She had kept it hidden for four months, unwilling to share it with the man who had left her behind. But seeing him again, standing just a few feet away, had stirred something inside her—a mix of longing, anger, and a faint glimmer of what might have been.

She bit her lip, her brow furrowing as she stared up at the ceiling. Could this trip really be an opportunity? A chance to tell him what he had missed, to finally confront the truth she had kept from him?

But then the resentment crept in, sharp and unyielding. The memory of their breakup was still fresh in her mind—the lies he had told, the coldness in his voice as he pushed her away. It was a wound that hadn't fully healed, and she wasn't sure it ever would.

Her thoughts turned to practicality, trying to ground herself. How long would this trip take? She had a doctor's appointment next week, an ultrasound she couldn't afford to miss. The baby needed her to stay on track, to be prepared.

Her eyes drifted to the calendar on the nightstand, her appointments carefully marked. The thought of abandoning those plans, even temporarily, filled her with unease.

And yet...

Her chest tightened as she remembered the way he had looked at her when he asked her to come. There had been something in his eyes—an urgency, a rawness that wasn't like him. It was as if he were asking for more than her company.

She turned onto her side, her hand brushing against the empty pillow beside her. The space felt larger than usual, colder somehow.

Across the city, Hae-Jo lay on a threadbare couch in a dingy one-room apartment, staring up at the cracked ceiling. A cigarette burned in his fingers, the smoke curling lazily in the stale air. His coat and shoes were still damp, discarded carelessly on the floor.

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

Her face, her voice, the way her lips had trembled when she saw him—it was all burned into his mind. He had kept his distance for four months, convincing himself that it was for the best, that she was better off without him.

But now that he'd seen her again, the carefully constructed walls he had built around his heart were crumbling.

Does she still hate me? he wondered, the thought cutting deeper than he expected.

He took a long drag from the cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the dim room. His chest felt heavy, a dull ache settling in his ribcage as the memories of their time together flooded back. The mornings they had spent curled up in bed, the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears, the way she had looked at him like he was the center of her world.

And now, he couldn't stop thinking about what she might be hiding. Her eyes had darted nervously as she moved around her apartment, her hands fidgeting in a way he hadn't seen before. Something had changed, and he didn't know what it was.

But he intended to find out.

Back in her apartment, Seorin closed her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep. But her mind wouldn't quiet, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like a storm cloud.

If she went with him, it could reopen wounds she wasn't sure she could handle. But if she stayed, she might never get the chance to tell him the truth, to show him what he had left behind.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket as she whispered to herself, "What if this is the only chance I get?"

The rain outside softened further, but her thoughts only grew louder.

#mr plankton wattpad fic #mr plankton hae jo #mr plankton fic #mr plankton #haejo x reader #hae jo fanfic #hae jo #kdrama fic

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honeydixonn · 12 days ago

Text

die together, hae jo | mr plankton

two, hae-jo

4159 words

The sharp fluorescent lights of the hospital room reflected off the sterile white walls, casting an unnatural glow over everything. Hae-Jo's breath steadied as he stirred awake, his body slick with sweat, his head pounding like a drum. Blinking away the remnants of his trauma-induced dream, he narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar surroundings. The antiseptic smell, the scratchy sheets, the beeping monitors—it all screamed hospital.

He rolled onto his side, groaning as his muscles protested, his mind replaying the chaos of the bike crash. The sound of screeching tires and yelling voices echoed faintly in his ears.

"Hyung-nim!"

The voice snapped him back to reality as Kkari, his loyal but impulsive friend, rushed over from a chair near the bed. His face was etched with concern, but there was a spark of relief in his eyes as he leaned over Hae-Jo.

"You're awake?"

Hae-Jo ignored the question, rubbing his temples to ease the pounding sensation in his skull. His body felt heavy, and his thoughts were sluggish, but Kkari's presence was an annoying constant he couldn't shake.

"Hyung-nim," Kkari pressed, clearly worried. "Hey, how many?"

Hae-Jo opened one eye, watching in irritation as Kkari held up a middle finger, then another, waving them rapidly in his face.

"How many fingers? How about now?"

"Motherfucker," Hae-Jo muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse but audible enough to make Kkari grin in relief.

"Ah, he's fine," Kkari said, plopping back down into the rolling chair beside the bed. "They think it's just a mild concussion. Is your recklessness bringing you good luck or what?"

Hae-Jo groaned, pushing himself upright despite the pounding in his head. Every movement felt like dragging himself out of quicksand. He glanced down at the IV needle in his arm, frowning at the sensation of the cold fluid trickling into his veins.

"The lady?" he asked, his voice flat.

Kkari scoffed. "Oh, that bitch? She rolled out before the crash. Got her scratches treated and hightailed it to the airport. Probably sipping champagne by now."

Hae-Jo's expression didn't change. He gave a brief nod, more to himself than to Kkari, as he yanked the IV needle out with a grunt. The sharp sting and cool air hitting the puncture site made him wince.

"Let's get out of here," he said, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his jacket from the chair.

Kkari threw his hands up in exasperation. "Are you serious? You almost died, and now you want to just walk out like nothing happened?"

"Uh-huh."

As they moved toward the door, a voice from behind stopped them.

"Excuse me, a moment please."

They turned to see a doctor standing in the doorway, his expression calm but purposeful. Hae-Jo frowned, the man's demeanor putting him on edge.

"You're Mr. Hae-Jo, correct? If you don't mind, I'd like to discuss something with you privately," the doctor said, gesturing toward a small office down the hall.

Hae-Jo hesitated, glancing at Kkari, who shrugged. With a resigned sigh, he followed the doctor, his footsteps heavy against the linoleum floor.

The cramped office had walls lined with medical books and anatomical diagrams. The doctor's monitor on the desk flickered as he displayed a series of CT scans. Hae-Jo sat in the chair across from him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and tapping his fingers together impatiently.

"You see these round, white masses here?" the doctor began, pointing to the screen.

Hae-Jo squinted at the images, his brow furrowing. "Like sae-al, or what?"

The doctor blinked. "Sae-al?"

"Yeah," Hae-Jo said, sighing as he gestured vaguely. "The little rice cake balls in patjuk."

A flicker of recognition crossed the doctor's face as he refocused on the scans. "Well, not exactly, but... I suppose they could look similar. These are blood vessels in your brain that have knotted up in abnormal formations. That's why they appear as these tangled masses."

"Tangled?" Hae-Jo repeated, leaning closer.

The doctor nodded. "These malformations reduce blood flow to the brain, decreasing the oxygen supply to brain cells. Over time, the intracranial pressure increases, and eventually—"

"They'll explode," Hae-Jo interrupted, his face pale. "Like a bomb."

The doctor hesitated, then gave a grim nod. "That's... one way to put it, yes."

Hae-Jo leaned back in his chair, his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants until his knuckles turned white. "I'm dying?"

The doctor's face softened, but his tone remained clinical. "This is a rare condition. Untreated, it's terminal. Surgery might be an option for others, but in your case..."

"How long?" Hae-Jo asked, his voice sharp, cutting off the explanation.

The doctor paused, leaning on the desk. "It's hard to say definitively, but... if we're being optimistic, three months."

Hae-Jo exhaled sharply, the weight of the words pressing down on his chest. His gaze drifted to the window, where the faint outline of the sun shone weakly through the tinted glass.

"Hereditary?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

"In most cases, yes," the doctor replied. "Do you know if your parents or siblings have a similar condition?"

A bitter laugh escaped Hae-Jo's lips. He shook his head, scratching his nose as he stared at the floor. "Parents? Siblings? No. Just me. But it's good to know they left me their ticking time bomb."

The doctor opened his mouth as if to say something, but Hae-Jo stood abruptly, cutting him off.

"This doesn't feel fair," Hae-Jo muttered, his laugh hollow as he adjusted his jacket. "But what is, right?"

The doctor watched as he walked out of the office without another word, his mind already racing toward the only question that mattered: What do I do with the time I have left?

Hae-Jo sat in the dimly lit hospital lobby, the sterile smell of disinfectant and the muffled chatter of voices pressing in around him. His chest felt hollow, his body heavy as though gravity itself was punishing him for simply existing. He stared blankly at the screen mounted on the wall, playing an endless loop of public service announcements.

"We will stay by your side like your family so that your final moments are beautiful."

The words crawled across the screen in pristine lettering, their message meant to be comforting. Instead, they clawed at his mind, taunting him. Family. A concept he'd never known and would never have. He shifted uncomfortably, biting back the bitter laugh that threatened to escape.

His phone buzzed against his thigh, the vibrations a sharp interruption in the stillness of his thoughts. He pulled it out of his pocket, the screen glowing with Kkari's name. With a tired sigh, he pressed the power button, silencing it.

The weight of his reality pressed harder on him. Every mistake he'd ever made, every decision he'd avoided, all of it played back in his mind like a relentless reel. What if he'd stayed with her? What if he hadn't lied? What if he had chosen differently?

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw movement in his peripheral vision. A figure walked through the lobby, her head hung low, and her hands clutched a bag like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

His breath caught.

Seorin.

She hadn't seen him, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Her lips were pressed together in that familiar way, trembling as though holding back tears. She'd always done that—swallowing her pain, pretending she was stronger than she felt. His heart ached at the sight, a sharp pang that nearly knocked the air out of him.

Her hair was longer than he remembered, lighter too, the color framing her face delicately. But her glasses—her signature glasses, the ones that always slipped down her nose—were gone. He had loved those glasses, loved the way she adjusted them absentmindedly when she was thinking too hard.

His chest tightened as he watched her step outside, into the rain that had started to fall heavier. He stood without thinking, his body moving on instinct when he heard the first choked sob escape her lips.

He approached the glass doors, his footsteps quiet, his breath shallow. She was leaning against the wall outside now, her back to him, her body trembling as she clutched her bag for support.

She still wore the gray coat he had given her last year, the one with her initials stitched on the tag. He remembered the day he bought it, how she had laughed at the extravagance, saying, "What do I need with initials on a coat? Who's going to steal it?" But she'd loved it. She'd worn it almost every day.

He clenched his fists as the memories washed over him. She looked so small now, so fragile against the backdrop of rain and gray skies.

She hated the rain. He remembered that too. She hated water on her face, hated swimming, hated anything that reminded her of drowning.

The wind picked up, and the rain began to splash against her pants, but she didn't seem to notice. She stayed there, her sobs quiet but raw, the sound cutting through him like a knife.

Hae-Jo took a shaky breath, his emotions warring within him. His hand reached out almost of its own accord, grabbing a black umbrella from the bin near the doors. He stepped into the rain, pulling his hat low over his face to shield his identity.

When he reached her, his steps slow and deliberate, he slid the umbrella into her hand. His fingers brushed hers for a fleeting second, a spark of connection he hadn't felt in months.

But he forgot to open it.

His nerves frayed, his heart pounding in his chest, he turned on his heel and began walking away, his footsteps quick and uneven.

"Wait!"

Her voice cracked, the sobs still clinging to her throat, and it stopped him dead in his tracks. His heart burned as if someone had set it alight, her voice reverberating through his very core.

He didn't turn around. He couldn't.

Instead, he walked further, stepping to the side and lighting a cigarette with trembling hands. The smoke filled his lungs, the brief reprieve doing nothing to calm the storm inside him.

From the corner of his eye, he watched her. The rain blurred his vision, but he saw the way her tears slowed, her sobs subsiding as she adjusted the umbrella he'd given her. For a moment, she stood there, and he allowed himself the faintest smile.

But the smile was short-lived.

A sharp crack of thunder pierced the air, and suddenly his vision blurred. Pain exploded in his head, his hands flying to his temple as his knees buckled. He stumbled to the side, gripping a low concrete wall for support as the world tilted around him.

The groans left his lips unbidden, his nails digging into the rough surface of the wall as the searing pain radiated through his skull. He forced himself to glance up, his vision swimming as he caught one last glimpse of her.

She was stepping onto a bus, the rain still falling in sheets around her.

His heart twisted as the bus pulled away, carrying her into the distance.

This wouldn't be the last time he saw her. He would make sure of it.

He couldn't leave this world—not without being with her again. One last time.

The rain soaked through Hae-Jo's clothes, the cold seeping into his bones as he slumped against the concrete wall. His head throbbed with a relentless pain, each pulse of it dragging him deeper into the memories he'd tried so hard to bury. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, as if he could force them away, but they came anyway—sharp, vivid, and unbearably cruel.

He remembered the mornings. The way she'd burrow into his chest when the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, her body warm and soft against his. She always woke up first, her sleepy voice teasing him to get up, but she never moved until he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to steal a few more minutes of peace.

He remembered the pictures she took with her old, beat-up Polaroid camera. She loved that thing, despite how often it jammed or smeared the photos. Her laugh had filled the room whenever they tried to pose together, her head resting on his shoulder as they waited for the film to develop. Those photos had been everywhere—tacked onto the walls, slipped into her notebooks, tucked into the corners of his wallet. He still had one, creased and faded, hidden deep in his drawer.

And the rings. He'd surprised her with matching silver bands on their second anniversary, simple but elegant, just the way she liked. She had cried when he slid the ring onto her finger, her smile brighter than the sun. She never took it off. He wondered if she still wore it now.

Then there was the fish tank. She adored it, spending hours studying the colorful fish swimming lazily in the water. She had names for all of them—Sundae, Bada, even one she called Mr. Wiggles. She'd sit cross-legged in front of the tank, sketching the fish in her notebook, her brow furrowed in concentration. The tank was empty now, the glass cracked and stained. The fish were gone, killed in the chaos caused by that woman and her bodyguard. He hadn't even gotten to fix it.

And he remembered the words he had once said to her. "You'd make an amazing wife." He'd meant it. She had a way of making even the coldest spaces feel like home. But he had left her. He had taken that dream away, all because he thought she deserved better.

The memories darkened, turning sour and sharp.

He remembered their argument a month before the breakup. She had been frustrated, confused by his sudden distance, and he'd lashed out, telling her things he didn't mean. "You deserve better than me. I'm just an errand boy. What kind of life could I even give you?"

Her response had been fierce, her voice trembling but unwavering. "I don't care about any of that. I chose you. Why can't you see that?"

But he couldn't let himself believe her. He couldn't let her stay.

Then came the breakup.

It was cloudy that day, the sky heavy with the promise of rain, though it never fell. They had met at the park, under their favorite oak tree. He'd told her the lies he thought would make it easier for her to walk away. "I don't love you the way you deserve to be loved."

He had watched the disbelief shatter into heartbreak on her face, watched the tears spill over as she turned and walked away. She had left without looking back, and he had stood there, unmoving, holding back his own tears until she was gone.

It had been the worst kind of pain, the kind that hollowed him out and left him empty. She was the only woman he had ever truly loved, and he had let her go.

Now, standing under a faulty awning that did little to shield him from the rain, Hae-Jo lit another cigarette with trembling hands. The glow of the ember reflected faintly in the puddles around him, the smoke curling into the cold air like whispers of regret.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, warm against the cold of his skin. He wiped it away quickly, almost angrily, before it could reach his lips.

"You fucking idiot," he muttered, his voice cracking.

The words felt hollow, but they were all he could say. He let out a shaky laugh, bitter and broken, as he cursed himself. His lips trembled as he stared out at the rain, his mind racing with the memories that wouldn't let him go.

He thought of her walking out of the hospital earlier, her frame trembling as she stood in the rain. He thought of the way she had looked at him that day under the oak tree, the way her voice had cracked as she said goodbye.

He wanted to chase after her, to grab her hand and tell her everything—that he had lied, that he had never stopped loving her, that he was a coward for letting her go. But he couldn't.

The rain fell harder, streaking down his face like the tears he refused to shed.

Hae-Jo puffed on his cigarette, the smoke burning his throat, as his hands tightened into fists.

"This isn't fair," he whispered to no one. "None of this is fair."

But life wasn't fair. Not for him, not for her.

The cigarette burned down to the filter, and he dropped it, crushing it under his shoe as the rain began to wash it away. He leaned against the wall, his head bowed, the ache in his chest spreading like a sickness.

He didn't know how much time he had left, but he knew one thing for certain.

He couldn't leave this world without seeing her again. Without making things right, even if it was too late.

By the time Hae-Jo arrived at the apartment, he was drenched. Rainwater dripped from his hair and soaked into his shirt collar, the sharp scent of wet earth and asphalt clinging to his clothes. He punched in the code on the door handle and pushed it open, only to be met with Bong-Suk standing in the entryway, her arms crossed, a face mask pulled over her skin, and her silk pajamas glowing faintly under the fluorescent lights.

"What happened to you?" she asked, her brows raised.

Hae-Jo grinned smugly, holding up the plastic bag of takeout he'd grabbed on his way over. "Peace offering," he said, stepping past her as she reluctantly let him in.

He trudged toward the bathroom without another word, his body feeling heavier with each step. The cold rainwater clung to his skin, making him shiver as he peeled off his soaked clothes and let them fall in a sad pile on the floor. The hot water from the shower barely warmed him, his thoughts clouded with the weight of the day, the words from the doctor replaying in his head like a broken record.

When he emerged, he was wrapped in a blue robe, his hair still damp. He made his way to the fridge, pulling out a can of diet Coke. The hiss of the tab breaking the seal echoed faintly in the small apartment.

"What's wrong with you?" Bong-Suk's voice broke through his thoughts as she watched him from her perch on the bed.

He ignored her question, instead sitting on the edge of the bed and taking a slow sip of the Coke, the carbonation fizzing faintly on his tongue.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone disinterested.

"You avoided me when I was looking for you, and now you're here, sucking up to me with soggy takeout," she pressed. "What's gotten into you?"

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the green wall in front of him, its surface uneven and faintly scratched from years of use. He stared at it as though it held answers. "Hmm."

She wasn't about to let him off the hook. "Don't you have any friends to drink with? You're still young, for god's sake."

Hae-Jo's eyes fell to the can in his hand, his fingers tracing the aluminum rim. "If I did," he muttered, "I wouldn't be here now."

Her scoff was loud, filled with irritation. "I'm your bong, I guess."

"Bong-Suk-a," he said, only half-joking.

She glared at him and hit the back of his head. "Ju-Ri, Bong Ju-Ri. I changed my name a long time ago, you brat."

He sighed and turned his head away, his lips curving into a small, bitter smile. "Don't hit my head, all right?"

That only egged her on. She crawled onto her knees and began slapping the back of his head with both hands. "Don't hit your head? Don't hit it like this? What are you going to do about it?"

Without thinking, he grabbed her wrist and gently pushed her down onto the mattress, pinning her there.

"Stop," he said, his voice low, but there was no anger in it. "Keep hitting it, and it'll explode. There are a bunch of bombs in my head. Fourteen at that."

She rolled her eyes as he chuckled softly, but the laughter faded quickly, his smile turning hollow. He stared at her, but his mind was elsewhere—thinking of someone else entirely.

Seorin.

He missed her. The way her breath would fan against his cheek when he pinned her like this, her heartbeat quick against his chest as she waited for him to make the next move. She always looked at him like he was everything, her eyes soft and full of trust he didn't deserve.

It hurt, thinking about her now. It hurt every time he did something—every time he breathed—and thought of her. Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how many lies he told himself, he couldn't escape the truth: he had ruined everything.

Ju-Ri snapped him out of his thoughts, pushing him off her. He rolled onto his back as she tossed him a blanket, shaking her head. "You're crazy," she muttered. "Wandering around in the rain, talking like that. Just go to sleep, all right?"

She sat against the headboard, patting his chest lightly as if to comfort him. "Go to sleep."

He stared at the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. Her voice became background noise, a faint hum as she began singing a made-up lullaby, but it only made his mind wander further.

"Sleep, sleep, my dear Hae-Jo," Bong-Suk sang softly, her voice laced with a teasing edge as she patted his chest.

He sighed, staring at the ceiling, the dim light from the window casting faint shadows across the room. "Bong-Suk-a."

She bit her lip in mock irritation and swatted him lightly on the chest. "You little jerk, how many times do I have to tell you? It's Ju-Ri now. Bong Ju-Ri. You'd better remember it."

He gave a half-hearted chuckle, closing his eyes and placing his hands behind his head. Silence fell between them for a moment, broken only by the sound of rain tapping against the windowpane.

"Why do tragedies always seem to find people whose lives are already pathetic?" he said quietly, almost to himself. "If you're poor, you're more likely to get sick. And when you're sick, there's no one to look after you because you don't have a family. And if you don't have family, you're truly... all alone."

He paused, the weight of his words settling heavily in the room. His voice softened, cracking slightly as he continued. "And loners always push away other loners. So why did I push her away?"

Ju-Ri laughed, breaking the tension with a sip from his can of soda. "Are those song lyrics or something?"

He didn't respond, didn't even glance her way. Instead, he turned over, his back to her, and stared out the rain-streaked window. His breath hitched as the memory of the breakup hit him like a train, the vivid images replaying in his mind: her tear-streaked face, her trembling voice, the way she had walked away from him without looking back.

The pain of it all burned in his chest like a smoldering ember, refusing to extinguish. He closed his eyes tightly, but the tears threatened anyway, prickling behind his eyelids.

Bong-Suk said something else, but he barely heard her. The sound of her voice faded into the background as he let out a shaky breath, the rain outside mirroring the storm raging inside him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the memories came anyway. He saw her again, crying outside the hospital earlier that day, her shoulders trembling under the weight of whatever burden she was carrying.

Why was she crying? Why was she there?

He remembered the message she'd sent him after the breakup: Get your things tomorrow when I'm at work. I don't want to see you or them again.

She had blocked him after that. No contact. No closure. Just silence.

"What a fucking joke," he whispered to himself, his voice breaking.

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling as the rain outside grew heavier.

If only he had stayed two more weeks, maybe he'd know the thing she was hiding now. Maybe he wouldn't have thrown everything away.

But now, he had no clue. And no time.

#mr plankton hae jo #hae jo fanfic #haejo x reader #hae jo #mr plankton wattpad fic #mr plankton fic #mr plankton #kdrama fic

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honeydixonn · 17 days ago

Text

die together, hae-jo | mr plankton

prologue, ruined

The rain had long since stopped when Seorin finally let herself pause, standing by the window of her apartment and watching the city lights blur into soft halos against the glass. This place had been hers for months now—small, quiet, and suffocatingly lonely. It was a space that didn't hold echoes of the past, unlike the apartment she had shared with him. Unlike the life they had built together.

Four years. Four years she had spent believing in a future with Hae-Jo, trusting in the warmth of his love, in the steady rhythm of their lives together. She had seen forever in the way he looked at her, in the way he showed up for her without hesitation. And yet, in the end, it had all slipped through her fingers, like the rain tracing crooked paths down the windowpane.

Her fingers curled into a fist as she turned away from the glass. It was stupid, wasn't it? Believing him when he told her he cared. Stupid to think the way he'd held her so tightly, so protectively, could mean something permanent. Yet the memories lingered, refusing to leave her in peace.

He'd take her to the park.

The sunlight filtered gently through the leaves of the giant oak tree, casting dappled shadows over the picnic blanket. Seorin stretched out on the soft grass, laughing as Hae-Jo teased her about the way she squinted at the crossword puzzle in her hands.

"Is it really that hard?" he asked, leaning over her shoulder, his chin propped on her head.

"You're not helping," she muttered, swatting at him with the pen.

He grinned, plucking a grape from the small bowl between them and popping it into his mouth. "Fine, let me try."

She handed him the puzzle, watching as his brow furrowed in exaggerated concentration. He got the answer wrong on purpose, of course, writing "catnap" instead of "cataclysm," just to hear her laugh.

The hours passed like seconds, the world shrinking to the sound of their voices and the rustle of leaves above them. These were the moments Seorin treasured—the simplicity of being with him, the way his presence made everything feel lighter, as if nothing bad could ever touch them.

Show up when she needed him.

The bell above the door jingled, signaling yet another customer's arrival. Seorin glanced nervously at the steaming cup of coffee in her hand, trying to recall whether the man in the suit had asked for one sugar or two. She placed it on the counter and called out his name, only to be met with a sharp sneer.

"Is it really so hard to get a simple order right?" the man snapped, his voice cutting through the air.

Her cheeks flushed as her coworkers exchanged glances, some stifling smirks. Before she could stammer an apology, Hae-Jo appeared at the counter, his face set in a calm but unyielding expression.

"Maybe if you spoke to people like they were human beings, your day would go better," he said coolly, his height and tone making the man hesitate.

The customer muttered something under his breath and left, and Seorin turned to Hae-Jo, her eyes wide. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did," he said firmly, his gaze softening as it settled on her. "No one gets to talk to you like that. Not while I'm here."

Run when she was hurt.

The fluorescent lights in the emergency room were harsh, and the pain in her ankle was a dull throb as she sat on the bed, waiting for the doctor. She had just started to doze off when she heard his voice echo through the corridor.

"Seorin!"

Her eyes snapped open just as Hae-Jo rushed into the room, his hair disheveled and his breath coming in short bursts. He looked like he'd run the whole way there.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, his hands hovering over hers as if afraid to touch her, afraid she might break further.

"It's just a sprain," she said, smiling weakly.

"Just a sprain? You were crying when you called me," he said, frowning. "If they don't take care of you, I'll..."

"Stop," she interrupted, laughing softly. "I'm fine. You didn't have to come."

"Yes, I did," he said, his voice dropping to a gentler tone. "You'd do the same for me."

Surprise her with big things...

When Seorin unlocked the door to her new apartment, she froze. The boxes she'd been dreading unpacking were gone—not gone, exactly, but opened and neatly arranged. Her books were stacked on the shelves. Her dishes were in the cabinets. Even her toothbrush was in the bathroom cup.

"What...?"

She turned to find Hae-Jo standing in the doorway, holding a bag of takeout.

"You're welcome," he said casually, walking past her to place the food on the counter.

"How did you—when did you—"

"You don't have to do everything alone," he said simply, pulling out two sets of chopsticks.

She stared at him, tears pricking at her eyes.

"You're impossible," she muttered, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

... and little things.

Every morning, there was a neatly packed lunch waiting for her on the counter, complete with a sticky note scribbled in Hae-Jo's messy handwriting.

"Don't work too hard today. You're amazing."

"If you get bored, think about me."

"Eat the fruit first. Yes, that's a rule."

Each note was a reminder of him, a small piece of his love tucked into her day. She kept every one of them, folded neatly in the corner of her journal.

Her throat tightened, and she clenched her jaw. "And then he ripped it all away," she muttered, the words bitter on her tongue.

It was mid-afternoon, the kind of cloudy day where the sun fought to break through the thick gray clouds, but never quite succeeded. The air smelled faintly of rain, and the park was quiet except for the occasional rustling of leaves. Seorin stood under the oak tree, watching Hae-Jo pace back and forth. He looked agitated, his hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, his shoulders hunched as if trying to shield himself from a storm no one else could see.

She crossed her arms, trying to fight the knot forming in her stomach. "You've been weird all week. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Hae-Jo stopped pacing, finally turning to face her. His expression was unreadable, his usual warmth replaced by something cold, distant. It was a look she didn't recognize, and it made her heart ache.

"I don't think this is working anymore," he said abruptly.

The words hit her like a slap. "What are you talking about?"

"Us," he said, his voice flat. "This relationship. I don't think it's working."

She stared at him, uncomprehending. "Where is this coming from? Everything was fine yesterday, Hae-Jo. What's going on?"

"It's not fine," he snapped, his voice sharp enough to make her flinch. He took a breath, visibly trying to calm himself. "It hasn't been fine for a while. I just... I've been thinking, and I don't think I love you the way you deserve to be loved."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Seorin took a step closer, her voice trembling. "You're lying."

Hae-Jo's jaw clenched. "I'm not."

"You're lying," she repeated, her tone more forceful now. She could see it in his eyes—the way they flickered with guilt, the way he wouldn't meet her gaze for longer than a second. "Why are you doing this? If something's wrong, we can fix it. We've always been able to fix it."

"This isn't something we can fix," he said, taking a step back from her. "I've been holding you back, Seorin. You have so much ahead of you, and I'm..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"And you're what?" she pressed, her voice breaking. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not good for you," he said finally, his voice cracking. "You're better off without me."

Seorin's breath caught in her chest. She felt tears pricking at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "That's not your choice to make. If I'm with you, it's because I want to be. Don't try to tell me what's better for me, Hae-Jo."

"I don't want to do this anymore," he said, forcing the words out quickly as if saying them faster would make them hurt less.

She took another step forward, close enough now to see the tremble in his hands. "If you don't want this, then look me in the eyes and say it. Tell me you don't love me anymore."

His mouth opened, but the words didn't come. For a brief moment, she saw the truth—saw the pain he was trying to hide, the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of whatever he wasn't telling her.

"I don't love you," he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The lie was obvious, but the weight of hearing it still hit her like a punch to the chest. Her tears fell then, hot and unchecked, and she shook her head as if that would erase the words.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

She wiped her cheeks, trying to steady her breathing. "If you think I'll believe this is what you really want, then you don't know me at all."

Her words hung heavy in the air as she turned and walked away, her steps slow but resolute. She didn't look back, even as her heart screamed at her to stop, to turn around and fight for him.

Hae-Jo stood frozen under the oak tree, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep his composure. When she finally disappeared from view, he sank to the ground, his head in his hands.

He told himself he was doing the right thing, that letting her go was the only way to protect her. But as the first drops of rain began to fall, he felt the weight of his decision settle deep in his chest, suffocating him.

For the first time, he wondered if maybe he'd been wrong. If maybe, just maybe, pushing her away wasn't the act of love he'd convinced himself it was—but the biggest mistake of his life.

She could still feel the ache in her chest, raw and suffocating, as he stood under that oak tree and let her walk away.

But now, in the silence of her small apartment, Seorin wondered if maybe she'd been the stupid one. Stupid for believing that kind of love could last forever. Stupid for letting herself trust someone who thought the best thing he could do for her was to leave.

Even as she curled up on the couch, her arms wrapping tightly around herself, she couldn't stop the tears that blurred her vision. Because no matter how much she told herself to let it go, she couldn't shake the feeling that the Hae-Jo she had loved—the one who had once loved her so deeply—was still out there.

And she hated herself for wishing, even now, that he'd come back.

#woo do hwan #do hwan #mr plankton #netlix #kdrama fic #haejo x reader #hae jo fanfic #hae jo #mr plankton fic #chae seong hyeok #mr plankton hae jo

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honeydixonn · 12 days ago

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die together, hae jo | mr plankton

four, cardboard box

4248 words

The sun streamed through the windows of Hae-Jo's cramped apartment, the morning unusually warm for the season. The faint clink of a spoon against ceramic mixed with the low drone of the TV. Kkari sat cross-legged on the floor, a steaming bowl of patjuk in his hands as he slurped noisily.

On the couch, Hae-Jo was sprawled out, his head propped on one hand as he absently watched the screen. His thoughts, however, were far from the mindless variety show playing in front of him.

He wanted Seorin to come with him. No—he needed her to. The thought of facing this journey alone felt unbearable. He had spent four months pretending to be fine without her, but seeing her again had shattered that illusion.

I'm dying, he thought bitterly, his fingers digging into the fabric of the couch. And if there's one person I want with me, it's her.

He wanted to tell her everything—that he had lied, that the breakup had been the biggest mistake of his life, that he wanted nothing more than to spend whatever time he had left making her happy. But every time he imagined saying the words, a wall of fear rose up, choking him.

With a frustrated sigh, he suddenly sat up, startling Kkari.

"Where are you going?" Kkari asked, his mouth full of rice.

Ignoring the question, Hae-Jo slid his feet into his house shoes and made his way to the coat rack. He grabbed his watch, strapping it on with quick, precise movements. Two hours until noon.

"To meet Darth Vader," he said nonchalantly, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Kkari blinked, confused. "What?"

"That bastard brought me into this shitty world, so it's only fair that I see his face before I die." Hae-Jo grabbed his thin black jacket from the wall, slipping it on with practiced ease.

"You were asleep two seconds ago," Kkari said, sitting up straighter. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Hae-Jo pointed a finger at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Listen carefully, Kkari. You're fired."

"What?" Kkari sputtered, dropping his spoon in shock.

Hae-Jo checked the time again before glancing back at his stunned friend. "Your severance is whatever you made from your 'secret gigs.' Go sell everything in the office. That's your pay this month."

Kkari scrambled to his knees, his face a mix of panic and indignation. "Wait, Hyung-Nim, I can explain!"

But Hae-Jo was already out the door, his grin widening as he hurried down the stairs. "I'll see you!" he called back, ignoring Kkari's protests.

The drive to the fertility clinic was quick, the top off his blue Jeep allowing the wind to whip through his hair. The sun glared down on him, and he slipped on his sunglasses, his thoughts racing faster than the car.

By the time he left the clinic, his grin was almost feral. The destruction he'd caused, the shouting match with the doctor, and the long list of possible donors in his pocket were more satisfying than they should have been.

Five potential fathers. Five leads.

But even with the small victory, his mind wandered back to Seorin. He thought of her smile, the hesitant one she'd given him last night. He thought of the way she used to laugh, the way her face would light up when they teased each other.

Four months without her felt like an eternity. He missed her more than he cared to admit, and he wasn't about to let this chance slip through his fingers.

Pulling into the parking lot of her apartment complex, Hae-Jo parked the Jeep with a deliberate confidence, his grin returning. He climbed out, taking long strides up the steps until he reached her door.

He knocked three times—loud, deliberate, just as he always had.

The silence that followed made his brow furrow. He knocked again, but before he could finish, the door behind him creaked open.

Laughter spilled into the hallway, light and familiar.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Choi," Hae-Jo said smoothly, turning to face the older woman. He bowed politely, a charming smile spreading across his face. "How's Mr. Jung? And the kids?"

Mrs. Choi blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Oh, they're good, dear. Sorry to keep you waiting, I was just lending Seorin more ba—"

Seorin appeared in the doorway behind her, cutting her off with a sudden coughing fit. She doubled over slightly, her hand gripping her knee as she sent a pointed look at her neighbor.

"I'm so thirsty," she said quickly, her voice strained. "Let's go inside."

Before Mrs. Choi could respond, Seorin grabbed Hae-Jo's arm with one hand, the other clutching a cardboard box tightly against her chest.

Hae-Jo smirked as he watched Seorin struggle to juggle the cardboard box while fumbling with the door. Her flushed cheeks and narrowed eyes only made his grin widen. She was as stubborn as ever, refusing to ask for help even when it was painfully obvious she needed it.

"Need a hand, Ae-in?" he teased, leaning slightly to the side to watch her struggle.

"Don't call me that," she snapped, her tone sharp but unconvincing as she huffed in frustration.

With a dramatic sigh, Hae-Jo stepped forward, slipping the box from her arms with an ease that made her glare up at him.

"Voilà," he said, his grin smug as he held the box with one hand and gestured to the now-open door with the other.

Her lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile creeping through before she quickly turned away, hiding her face. "Just go inside," she muttered, her voice clipped.

He followed her into the apartment, setting the box down on the counter as she slipped off her shoes. The faint scent of lavender and something faintly sweet greeted him, a smell that immediately brought back memories of lazy Sundays spent in her apartment.

But his attention was drawn back to the box. Its flaps were slightly open, and inside he caught a glimpse of something soft and pastel. Curiosity prickled at him as he tilted his head, trying to get a better look.

"Thanks for your help," Seorin said quickly, stepping between him and the counter as if she could block his view.

He arched an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from her face to the box and back again. "What's in there?"

"Nothing," she said too quickly, her voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing.

His grin turned mischievous. "Nothing? Doesn't look like nothing."

Her hand pressed against the edge of the box, her body shifting slightly to shield it from him. "It's just... stuff Mrs. Choi lent me."

He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. "Stuff, huh? Like what?"

Her jaw tightened, her eyes darting to the box and then back to him. "Just some things I needed, okay?"

The corner of his mouth twitched as he watched her squirm. He had always loved that about her—the way her cheeks flushed when she was caught off guard, the way her eyes darted around when she was trying to hide something.

He straightened, his curiosity growing as he moved to nudge the box with one hand.

"Don't—" she started, her voice sharp as she grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

Her reaction only deepened his suspicion. He tilted his head, his expression softening as he searched her face. "Seorin," he said, his voice quieter now, "what's going on?"

Her grip on his wrist tightened for a moment before she let go, stepping back as if his proximity burned her. "It's none of your business, Hae-Jo," she said firmly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, his mind racing. There was something here, something she wasn't telling him. But he decided to let it go—for now.

He gave her a small, disarming smile, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. No need to get so defensive."

She relaxed slightly, though her shoulders remained tense as she crossed her arms.

"You're awfully nosy," she muttered, her eyes narrowing.

"Old habits," he replied with a shrug, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "But don't worry, I won't pry. Yet."

Her glare sharpened, but he caught the faintest twitch of her lips, as if she were fighting back a smile.

"Anyway," he said, changing the subject as he leaned against the couch, "I'm glad to see the neighbors are still as generous as ever. Always lending you... stuff."

Seorin rolled her eyes, brushing past him to straighten the box on the counter. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Nope."

His quick reply made her pause, her hands hovering over the box as she glanced at him. He wasn't smiling now. His dark eyes had softened, and there was a weight to his expression that made her stomach twist.

"I meant what I said last night," he said, his voice steady but laced with something vulnerable. "I want you to come with me. On this trip. One last adventure."

She turned away, focusing on the box as her fingers fidgeted with the flaps. "I don't know, Hae-Jo. It's not that simple."

The mid-day sun poured through the curtains, casting long, golden streaks across Seorin's small apartment. She stood in the kitchen, wiping the counter for the third time, her mind elsewhere. She could feel the weight of his presence in the room behind her, lounging on her couch as though he'd never left her life.

Hae-Jo had made himself perfectly comfortable, leaning back with his legs stretched out and his arms sprawled across the backrest. His cocky grin hadn't faded since she'd let him in.

"So," he began, his voice carrying that familiar playful lilt that always made her roll her eyes. "What's it going to take to convince you to come with me?"

Seorin sighed, her grip tightening on the dishcloth in her hand. "I told you, I can't just drop everything and go gallivanting across the country with you."

"Gallivanting?" he repeated with mock offense, sitting up straighter. "Ae-in, you make it sound like I'm asking you to rob a bank. It's just one little trip. You'll barely notice we've left."

She turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's not that simple, Hae-Jo. I have responsibilities. Things to take care of."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Responsibilities? Like dusting the shelves and wiping counters? I think the world will survive if you leave your sponge behind for a few days."

Her jaw clenched, and she gave him a withering glare. "You don't know anything about my life anymore."

His smirk faltered for the briefest moment, his dark eyes softening. "Maybe not. But I know you."

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard, and for a moment, the tension between them thickened. He stood, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps.

"Look," he said, his tone quieter now, though the playful edge still lingered. "I'm not asking you to drop your whole life for me. Just... one week. That's all. I need you on this trip, Ae-in. I can't do it alone."

She narrowed her eyes at him, skeptical. "Why me? You could've asked anyone else—"

"Because no one else knows me like you do," he interrupted, his voice firm. "No one else can tell when I'm lying, or when I'm about to do something stupid. And... you're the only person who ever cared enough to stick around."

Her breath hitched, the words hitting her like a sucker punch. She hated how easily he could disarm her, how effortlessly he could worm his way back into her heart with just a few well-placed words.

She turned back to the counter, focusing on folding the dishcloth to distract herself. "One week, Hae-Jo," she said finally, her voice low.

His grin returned instantly. "One week? That's more than enough time to make some memories."

She shot him a warning look. "I'm serious. One week. And I'm only doing this because you clearly need help. But don't think for a second this means I've forgiven you."

He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "Forgive me? Ae-in, I'm just a humble man trying to make amends. You wound me."

She rolled her eyes, turning to leave the kitchen. "I'm packing a bag. Don't touch anything while I'm gone."

"Not even the box?" he called after her, grinning when she glared at him from the doorway.

"Especially not the box."

Fifteen minutes later, she returned with a small duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Hae-Jo had moved to the window, leaning casually against the frame as he fiddled with a cigarette between his fingers.

"Ready?" he asked, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded stiffly. "Ready. But I swear, if you pull any of your usual stunts—"

"I'll be a perfect gentleman," he promised, his grin widening as he straightened and grabbed her bag.

She let out a soft scoff but didn't argue, following him out the door and down the stairs to his Jeep.

The vehicle stood gleaming in the sunlight, the top removed, inviting the breeze. Hae-Jo opened the passenger door for her with an exaggerated bow, his cheeky smile still firmly in place.

"Your chariot awaits, Ae-in."

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag. A week. That's all it was. Just one week to help him find his father and then come back to her life. She told herself it wouldn't be more than that.

But as she climbed into the Jeep, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the warmth of the sun, she couldn't shake the feeling that this trip would change everything.

Hae-Jo slid into the driver's seat, slipping on his sunglasses before starting the engine. "Buckle up," he said, shooting her a sideways grin. "This is going to be fun."

She didn't respond, her gaze focused on the road ahead as he pulled out of the parking lot.

One week, she reminded herself. That's all.

But in the pit of her stomach, she knew it wouldn't be that simple.

The Jeep hummed steadily as it sped down a long, empty road flanked by stretches of wild grass that swayed gently in the breeze. The sun hung high in the sky, its golden rays casting warmth over the earth. The open top of the Jeep let the wind whip through their hair, a sharp contrast to the silence that had settled between them.

Seorin sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag as it rested in her lap. She stared straight ahead, refusing to glance at the man beside her, though she could feel his presence like a weight pressing against her.

Hae-Jo, for his part, seemed at ease, one hand on the steering wheel and the other draped lazily over the door. His sunglasses obscured his eyes, but the faint grin tugging at his lips betrayed his mood.

"See?" he said, breaking the silence. "This isn't so bad, right? Just the open road, good weather, and great company."

She rolled her eyes, turning her face toward the window. "Let's not get carried away. I'm only here for a week, remember?"

"Ah, yes," he said with mock seriousness, tapping the steering wheel. "One glorious week. I'll make it count."

She didn't respond, the tension in her shoulders only easing slightly as she watched the endless fields roll by. But her calm didn't last long.

A sudden wave of nausea hit her, sharp and overwhelming. Her stomach churned, and she clutched at her middle, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Stop the car," she said quickly, her voice tight.

"What?" Hae-Jo glanced at her, his grin vanishing when he saw her pale face. "What's wrong?"

"Just—stop the car!" she managed, her hand flying to her mouth.

He slammed on the brakes, the tires skidding slightly on the gravel as he pulled off to the side of the road. She scrambled out before the vehicle had fully stopped, her legs unsteady as she stumbled toward the grass.

"Seorin!" he called after her, quickly jumping out of the Jeep.

She dropped to her knees, clutching the tall grass for support as her body heaved. Hae-Jo reached her in a few long strides, crouching down beside her and pulling her hair back from her face.

"Hey, hey," he said, his voice softer than usual. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

She waved a shaky hand at him, unable to speak as her body trembled.

His brows knit together, worry etched into the lines of his face as he held her hair back with one hand and steadied her with the other. "Breathe, Ae-in. Just breathe."

After a moment, her breathing slowed, and the nausea began to subside. She sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her face was pale, her forehead damp with sweat.

"What happened?" he asked, his tone still soft but laced with concern.

She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. "I must've eaten something bad," she said weakly. "Or maybe I'm just dehydrated."

He frowned, clearly not convinced. "You didn't look like this last night. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly, her voice firmer now. "Really, it's nothing."

Hae-Jo let out a long breath, reaching into his backpack. "Here." He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to her, along with a small, packaged cookie. "Eat this. It'll help."

She hesitated, but the look in his eyes—equal parts worry and stubbornness—made her take the offerings without protest.

"Thanks," she murmured, unscrewing the bottle and taking a small sip. The cool water soothed her dry throat, and she broke off a piece of the cookie, nibbling on it slowly.

Hae-Jo stayed crouched beside her, his dark eyes fixed on her face. She hated how his presence felt comforting, how easily he could make her feel cared for even when she didn't want to.

"Do you need to rest?" he asked after a moment.

She shook her head, forcing a faint smile. "No. Let's keep going. I'll be fine."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue. Instead, he helped her to her feet, his hand lingering on her arm for a moment longer than necessary.

As they climbed back into the Jeep, the silence between them felt heavier, the air thick with unspoken questions.

"Let me know if you feel sick again," he said, his tone softer now.

"I will," she replied, though she avoided his gaze.

The Jeep roared back to life, rumbling softly as it rolled onto the long stretch of road ahead. Seorin leaned against the passenger seat, the bottle of water cradled in her hands. Her chest still felt tight, her stomach unsettled, but she forced herself to focus on the scenery outside—fields of wild grass stretching endlessly under the bright, cloudless sky.

Hae-Jo was quieter now, his usual cocky banter replaced by something more subdued. He glanced at her from behind his sunglasses, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "It's probably just something I ate."

He hummed, his tone skeptical. "You didn't look like it was just 'something you ate' back there."

She sighed, setting the bottle in the cup holder. "I don't need a diagnosis, Dr. Hae-Jo. I'll be fine."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but the smile didn't fully form. "I'm just saying, you scared me for a second."

His words hung in the air, the unspoken concern in his tone making her heart ache. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, catching the faint furrow in his brow, the way his lips pressed together as though he was holding back more.

Why does he have to care now? she thought bitterly, turning her gaze back to the fields.

The ride continued in heavy silence, the warm breeze from the open Jeep brushing against her skin. Seorin couldn't help but replay the moment in her head—the way he had rushed to her side, the way his hands had steadied her and pulled her hair back so gently.

It was infuriating how natural it had felt, like no time had passed between them. And yet, it only made her resentment simmer beneath the surface.

Hae-Jo, on the other hand, was battling his own thoughts. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, stealing occasional glances at her pale face. Her earlier sickness had shaken him more than he wanted to admit.

"You're not secretly dying too, are you?" he asked, attempting to lighten the mood with a small chuckle.

Her head snapped toward him, her glare sharp enough to cut. "That's not funny."

His grin faltered, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry. Bad joke."

She shook her head, looking away again. "Don't joke about things like that."

The guilt in his chest twisted painfully. If only she knew how close to home the joke had been.

An hour passed, the sun climbing higher in the sky. The road narrowed, weaving through patches of trees that provided brief bursts of shade. The air smelled fresh, the faint earthy scent of grass and soil carried by the breeze.

Seorin leaned her head against the seat, her eyes drifting shut as the rhythmic hum of the Jeep lulled her into a light doze.

Hae-Jo glanced at her again, his expression softening. The tension in her body had eased slightly, her lips parted as her breathing steadied. He couldn't help but smile, the sight of her so familiar yet painfully distant.

But his smile faded as his thoughts darkened. Four months without her had felt like a lifetime. And now, knowing that his own life was slipping through his fingers, the thought of losing her completely was unbearable.

When Seorin stirred, blinking against the sunlight, she realized the Jeep had slowed. They were pulling off the main road, the engine rumbling as it came to a stop under a large oak tree.

She sat up, confused. "Why are we stopping?"

Hae-Jo turned off the engine and leaned back, his arm resting casually on the steering wheel. "You've been looking a little green. Figured you could use a break."

Her brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I told you I'm fine."

"And I told you to let me know if you felt sick again," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "Call it a pit stop. Humor me."

She huffed but didn't argue, stepping out of the Jeep and stretching her legs. The shade of the tree was cool and inviting, and she found herself reluctantly grateful for the break.

Hae-Jo grabbed a blanket from the back of the Jeep and spread it on the grass. "Sit," he said, gesturing to it with a flourish.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "What is this, a picnic?"

"Don't flatter yourself," he replied with a smirk. "I just don't want you passing out and blaming me."

Despite herself, her lips twitched into a faint smile. She sat down, her legs crossed beneath her as she leaned back on her hands.

Hae-Jo rummaged through his backpack, pulling out another bottle of water and a pack of salted seawead. He handed them to her without a word, his expression unreadable.

She took them hesitantly, her fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. The touch sent a jolt through her, and she quickly looked away, focusing on opening the package.

"Thanks," she muttered, taking a small piece.

He watched her for a moment before leaning back on his elbows, his gaze shifting to the sky. "You know," he began, his voice quieter now, "I wasn't kidding when I said I need you on this trip."

Her chewing slowed, and she glanced at him cautiously. "Why me, Hae-Jo? Why not Kkari or someone else?"

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Kkari's an idiot. He wouldn't understand half of what I'm dealing with."

"And you think I would?"

"I know you would," he said, turning to meet her gaze. "You always did."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. She looked away, her chest tightening as memories of their past flooded back.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" she asked after a long pause.

"Nope." His smirk returned, but his eyes remained serious.

She sighed, taking another bite of the granola bar as she weighed her options. He had always been persuasive, and part of her hated how easily he could get under her skin.

"Fine," she said finally, her voice quiet. "But I'm still only giving you a week."

His grin widened, genuine and bright. "That's all I need."

She rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips as she took another sip of water.

One week, she reminded herself. Just one week.

But deep down, she knew nothing about this trip would be simple.

#mr plankton wattpad fic #mr plankton hae jo #mr plankton fic #mr plankton #hae jo fanfic #haejo x reader #hae jo #kdrama fic

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