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thatfeelinwhenyou · 1 month ago

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SMOKE SCREENS & CIGARETTES — part one

#1 - The Two Worlds

Lee Heeseung is always known as the quiet boy in class. Although his popularity in school would suggest otherwise, he is never viewed as the rebellious or partying type. In fact, he is the kind of student who reminds the teacher about pending assignments just as the lesson is about to conclude. Simply put, Lee Heeseung fits the stereotype of a nerd—at least, that's the version of him you are accustomed to.

So, when you unexpectedly encounter him at a club in another city during your summer break, his hair, now sporting green highlights, is slicked back instead of covering his eyes as it typically does on campus. He has multiple metal studs hanging from his earlobe, but above all, he seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself, dancing, drinking, and smoking without inhibition. Needless to say, you are taken aback.

While it's not uncommon for an overage university student to be partying during their vacation, this is Lee Heeseung we're talking about. The last thing you'd expect is to see him in Club Dark Moon, one hand holding a glass of some intoxicating liquid, and the other wrapped around the waist of a girl who appears to be of similar age to yourself.

This is the same Lee Heeseung who never knows when to take a hint in class, always finding an opportunity to correct the teacher. The Lee Heeseung who never fails to maintain perfect posture throughout 3-hour long lectures. The Lee Heeseung who becomes unresponsive and distant when the conversation veers away from academic topics. The Lee Heeseung who secretly envies you because you embody everything he isn't.

Now, in the flesh, is The Lee Heeseung embodying everything you thought he wasn't.

You are popular yourself, considering your extroverted and altruistic nature; you are popular because you know how to party. Lee Heeseung is popular because he is a quiet and smart kid yet has a mysterious aura that makes him so god damn attractive. The two of you are complete polar opposites, each other's antonyms, and while possessing many contradictory qualities, you are actually similar to one another in many ways that don't meet the eye.

You frequently attend the weekly Friday night parties hosted by the university fraternities. And with each step you take, you effortlessly command the attention of every person present, your magnetic presence impossible to ignore. Everybody yearns to be in your orbit; guys want you, while girls admire your confidence and charisma, secretly wishing to be you. Your friends eagerly drag you to every party down the block, basking in the reflected glow of being associated with The Y/L/N Y/N—a name synonymous with popularity and social prowess.

Despite the overwhelming amount of attention you receive throughout your undergraduate career, a persistent sense of unease gnaws at you as you find yourself grappling with a profound sense of disconnection. While externally you seamlessly blend into the pulsating dynamic of university life, internally, you’re like a solitary figure navigating a sea of expectations and obligations. You fit in, but at the same time, you don’t.

You always think that maybe you're just stressed out with assignment deadlines. Well, clearly, since you’re partying when you should be working on the next paragraph of your final year thesis. If only the answer were as simple as that.

No, you're not stressed. You just simply do not belong to the party life. However, as the nights blur into days and the days into weeks, you begin to feel the weight of societal expectations pressing down on you, particularly the burden of being labelled as the "popular kid." And popular kids always arrive fashionably late to every party. Popular kids are the lives of the party. Popular kids are party animals.

By the time you noticed your desolation, you're already too far gone, you've convinced yourself that this is your life and all you have to do is suck it up. This label of being the “popular kid” becomes both a mantle of honour and a burden to bear, as you struggle within the confines of a stereotype that fails to encapsulate the complexity of your identity.

You're constantly trying to squeeze yourself into the mould of expectations that your peers have so delicately carved out for you, that you often find yourself questioning the authenticity of your existence, wondering if the façade of popularity is worth sacrificing yourself. Your true self.

And that's being the ambitious and studious girl you always were and still are. You would rather stay at home and finish writing your 100-page psychological analysis on 'Social Cognition and Perception', or finish reading the third volume of the 'Persuasion, Propaganda, and Marketing' trilogy. Hell, you would even rather do a mountain of chores than attend another frat party.

Though you long to share your intellectual passions with your friends, you hesitate, aware that their interests lie elsewhere. They’re in it for the social society life, effortlessly navigating sorority events and basking in the glow of admiration that comes with being in your inner social circle. Yet, beneath their carefree façade, they remain oblivious to the dedication and diligence required to maintain your impeccable grades. Only assuming that you’re a natural-born beauty and brains.

It’s your last break before your final semester and you are thrilled as you eagerly plan your to-do list over the summer break. Maybe learn to play the guitar, go on a hike, or finally start reading that fiction book you had put off for months. You envision checking it all off before the final semester begins. However, your plans are unexpectedly put on hold when your friends suggest a pre-graduation chalet trip to a province northeast of Seoul.

This trip marks your first time travelling outside of the city, and it's with your adventurous, somewhat reckless friends. The decision is made hastily, with everything arranged at the eleventh hour. Your friends unanimously agree to simply "go with the flow," as Yunjin puts it.

Unfortunately for you, your meticulous personality type craves structure and detailed planning, and you are only able to feel at ease if you have an itinerary to follow.

Hence, it’s not a surprise that you were apprehensive about embarking on this trip. You even considered skipping the excursion altogether. Except that wouldn't be fitting for a popular kid, would it? Popular kids should be laid-back and adaptable, they should be going with the flow too, they do not need people telling them what to do should listen and act on what people expect of them.

"Y/N! We're leaving in 5 minutes, will you be ready soon?" Chaewon barges into your room in the Airbnb that the four of you share. Despite your reluctance, you plaster on your flawless façade and smile. "Yes, yes, I'm ready. So impatient as always," you half-jokingly roll your eyes, relieved that Chaewon doesn't catch the genuine hesitation in your tone.

It’s not that you dislike your friends or anything; in fact, you're grateful that they're the most genuine people you've met at university. Unlike most students who sacrifice their integrity to gain favour, your friends are refreshingly candid about their opinions of you. While you and Chaewon didn't hit it off at first, now you're practically two peas in a pod. Yet, it doesn't change the fact that you've become a puppet catering to your friends' partying whims.

As you gaze into the mirror, you confront a version of yourself that you yourself could barely recognise. The person you once were—vibrant, authentic, and unapologetically yourself—has become obscured beneath layers of societal expectations and peer pressure. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time choosing to pretend the girl in the mirror is you, because what’s another day of grinding up your confidence and making it a meal that would last you an hour at best?

So, you do what you do best—picking out the skimpiest dress you own, spraying on your most testosterone-provoking perfume, and drawing a cat-eye sharp enough to kill anyone who dares to meet your gaze.

You settle into the passenger seat of the taxi while your three friends squeeze into the back. Your first destination is Club Dark Moon, one of the province's most popular and bustling nightclubs. The bouncer checks your IDs and ushers you inside, the scene unfolding just as you anticipated for a Friday night.

The dance floor is packed, with male and female dancers taking their positions on mini-stages scattered around the room. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol mixed with hours of piled-up perspiration, nearly causing you to visibly gag. Nevertheless, you force a smile despite the prospect of being pressed up against complete strangers, moving to the beat in a tango of privacy invasion.

"Hey! You guys made it!" Jay calls out from the private booth you reserved earlier in the week. Despite the night still being relatively young, the table is already littered with empty bottles of cheap alcohol, the kind that debt-induced university students can afford. Almost immediately, Yunjin prances over to the booth and squeezes herself between Jay and Sunghoon, swiftly downing a glass of whatever leftover alcohol was in it before you even reach them.

"PSA: I will not be the one babysitting her and dragging her vomit-covered body back to the Airbnb later tonight," Sakura declares, promptly supported by Chaewon, leaving you designated as tonight's caretaker.

"Hey," you greet the two boys, though your attention remains fixed on Yunjin, who just finished another drink. Sunghoon appears to notice your distressed complexion, grasping your wrist and gently turning you to face him. "You look like you need to unwind tonight. Don't worry, we'll take care of her," he reassures you, his tone of voice having some sort of soothing effect on you.

Honestly, you'd be perfectly content not drinking much tonight anyway, but dealing with a drunken Yunjin is... a whole other challenge. Grateful, you offer Sunghoon a smile and a pat on the back before heading to the dance floor to do what you do best—put on a show.

It doesn't take long before you find yourself on one of the mini-stages, the effects of a few drinks starting to kick in just as expected. The strap of your black mini-dress slips off your shoulder, and the hem rides up your thigh, possibly revealing whatever’s underneath to the crowd. Once again, you're the centre of attention, and you're used to it. The predatory stares you receive start to feel unsettling, but what can you do? You were made for this exact moment.

Sakura joins you on stage, and together, you put on an electrifying performance, dancing against each other, feeling the heat of her body pressed against yours. At one point, she even buries her face in the crook of your neck, pretending to plant kisses on your shoulder. It’s not long before you notice your vision slowly becoming hazy from the combination of body heat and the alcohol being pushed on you by your friends.

You're aware that you've crossed the boundary between sober to tipsy, and continuing at this pace will likely leave you nursing a migraine on the floor of your Airbnb tomorrow morning. You’re also aware that another glass of alcohol would only blur your senses further, and you're about to call it quits when you catch sight of a familiar face dancing across the club.

"Is that Lee Heeseung?" you mutter to yourself, Sakura noticing your distraction. "Hey, you okay? We can take a breather if you're not feeling well," she whispers just loud enough for you to hear, receiving a reassuring nod from you. She then proceeds to take your hand as you carefully manoeuvre your way downstage, your gaze still fixed on the figure you assume is Heeseung.

"Y/N! You killed it up there!" Jay's voice booms across the club, announcing it to literally every single soul in the goddamn club. Before you know it, they're chanting your name, urging you to return to the stage as if you were some caged animal in a zoo performing tricks and stunts for onlookers.

Heeseung seems to catch wind of the commotion, his ears perking up at the familiar name. He turns around, locking eyes with you, his expression betraying a hint of surprise, as if he's been caught red-handed, doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

"Lee Heeseung?" you mouth his name, and that's his signal to make a swift exit. He hands his cup to the girl he was grinding onto moments ago and practically bolts through the emergency exit. By now, the cheers from the crowd around you have faded into the background. Excusing yourself, you navigate through the crowd until you reach the other side of the emergency exit, where you come face to face with none other than Lee Heeseung himself.

"Who the fuck are you?" you gawk, taking in his unusual attire as you scan him from head to toe. His eyes, now visible without glasses, appear larger than you remembered. His hair is styled back with faded green streaks in them, and gosh is that a tattoo on his chest? Who the hell is this guy?

"You already know, so why ask?" he retorts, raising his eyebrows, wrinkles creasing on his exposed forehead. "Wow, that's a record for the most words you've ever spoken to me," you quip sarcastically, realising perhaps it wasn't the best idea as he responds with a deadpan expression.

"So... you're into the party scene, huh?" you awkwardly probe, feeling thrown off by this unexpected version of Lee Heeseung standing before you.

"That's none of your business," he replies curtly. What you don't know is that the Heeseung standing in front of you is the real Heeseung, a side he's managed to conceal for most of his university career, until now, when you've downright busted him.

"What are you doing around here?" you awkwardly attempt at conversation, receiving minimal response from him. "My grandparents live nearby. I'm visiting for the break," you nod at his response, trying to come up with something to say to keep the conversation going, but to no avail. All you can do is stand there, fidgeting with the hem of your dress, when Heeseung pulls out a cigarette from his jeans pocket and offers it to you, which you decline.

He then proceeds to light it between his lips. You watch in genuine surprise, your eyebrows raising slightly at the sight of him smoking. It's unexpected, especially considering Heeseung's role as a student ambassador, a proclaimed role model for freshmen and prospective students.

The very same influential figure stands before you, with a cigarette between his teeth. You're taken aback, your mind trying to reconcile this new information as it's a stark contrast to the persona you've always known him to portray.

"You... smoke?" you ask, unable to hide your astonishment.

"Casual smoker. It's not that big of a deal," he shrugs, his tone nonchalant as he exhales a puff of smoke into the hot summer air.

"Yeah, not when you literally rebutted how people who resort to nicotine were just, verbatim, 'losers who are unable to get their lives together, so they look for an alternative to escape from reality,'" you quote him from a discussion your class had a couple of months ago during your psychology lecture on the topic of 'coping mechanisms.'

"Never said I wasn't one of them," he shrugs, turning to look at you. His doe eyes seem to be trying to send you a telepathic message, and you find yourself captivated by their intensity. You're struck by a mixture of surprise and intrigue, wondering what led him to this moment of contradiction. You simply nod in response, not because you don't have anything to say, as a matter of fact your mind is racing, but because his intimidating yet attractive demeanour has rendered you completely speechless.

It's no secret that Lee Heeseung is good-looking, but the scene in front of you suggests he's more than just good-looking. He's hot as fuck, and you can't deny the allure of his rebellious aura. His presence exudes an undeniable magnetism, and you can't help but feel a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

"Look, you're obviously not getting the memo," he says, taking the cigarette between his fingers. "Can we pretend we never saw each other? You go back to doing whatever you do, and I'll go back to doing mine. Deal?"

You stare at him, uncertain of his intentions. Sure, you could keep a secret or two, and you're confident you would have kept quiet about what you saw even without him asking. But the urgency in his tone makes you wonder: What is Lee Heeseung really hiding? The request feels more like a demand, and you can't shake the feeling that there's more to this encounter than meets the eye.

"Yeah, sure, I can keep it on a hush-hush, but I'm just asking out of curiosity..." you start cautiously, not wanting to push his boundaries. You only finish your sentence when you hear him sigh as if he already knows what you're about to ask.

"Why don't you go around school looking like this more often? I'm pretty sure you'd be way more popular if you didn't have your hair covering your eyes. Your eyes are really pretty, by the way, though I'm sure you've heard that like a thousand times before," you start rambling before you realise it. Heeseung just stares at you, his head tilted to one side, looking stunned, amused even. You can't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and frustration at your own inability to keep your curiosity in check.

"I have a reason for it, though I don't really feel like telling you," he says, taking another puff of the cigarette. This time, he blows the smoke out in your face, adding a touch of defiance to his response. The mainstream smoke formed a screen almost intentionally between you and him, a subtle barrier signalling that the two of you are from different worlds, enjoying different luxuries. You nod, taking the hint that he doesn't want you pushing any further than you already have.

"Well, if you're ever out and about again, you know who to call," you say, trying to inject a note of lightness into the atmosphere. Heeseung raises his brow, unsure of what you're implying.

"They don't call me the party queen for no reason," you wink, turning your back towards him, ready to stroll back into the club—back into your world.

As if the universe is toying with you, you start running into Heeseung more frequently than you would prefer at school. You saw him around campus before your little encounter over the summer break, but you never recall being so hyper-aware of his presence until now. Every time you catch sight of him, your heart skips a beat, and a rush of mixed emotions—curiosity, anxiety, even a bit of excitement—floods over you.

It's not that you're avoiding him; you just can't look at him the same way. The fact that you're hiding a life-changing secret (to him at least) makes you extremely cautious walking around campus. You feel a strange sense of responsibility, almost protectiveness, and it weighs heavily on your mind. You can't help but tense up whenever his name comes up in conversations with your friends, afraid that someone might notice your unease and start asking questions you aren't prepared to answer.

"You know if you keep acting so strange whenever we so much as breathe the same air, your friends are gonna start asking questions," Heeseung says, creeping up behind you while you're searching for research materials for your thesis in the library.

"Holy fuck! You scared the shit out of me. Please don't do that again," you whisper-shout, trying to keep your volume down as you notice students around shooting you annoyed gazes, disturbed by your sudden shriek. "What are you doing here?"

"The library is a property of Decelis University, and I'm a student. What do you think?" he responds with a smirk, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. His casual demeanour only adds to your flustered state. You can't help but feel irritated at his nonchalance but also admiration for the way he carries himself so effortlessly.

"Do you always have to answer in such an arrogant manner?" you ask, and he chuckles. It's the first time you've heard him laugh, and you find yourself oddly captivated by his straight, pearly white teeth. Once again, you catch yourself noticing another feature of his that you never really paid attention to in the past.

"Besides, where else would you find a nerd? The llibrary is basically my second home," he adds with a smug look on his face. Oh, how you wish you could rip that expression off his face. You mumble softly, but just loud enough for him to hear, "You're intolerable," before turning your attention back to the rows of books in front of you.

"Seriously though, you have to stop being so awkward," Heeseung teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I am not awkward," you retort, rolling your eyes and continuing to scan the shelves for any knowledgeable book titles so you can get out of there and away from him as soon as possible. The proximity to him is unnerving, making your heart race in a way that frustrates you.

"You so are!" Heeseung ruffles your hair almost as if it’s the most natural reaction for him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

"I don't recall us being that close..." you comment, trying to straighten out the hair he had so rudely messed up. Your fingers tremble slightly as you fix your hair, the unexpected intimacy of the gesture lingering.

"Ouch, I guess it was all one-sided all along," Heeseung says, clutching his chest as if he’s been shot. His dramatic antics are so out of character for the reserved student ambassador you thought you knew, and you can't help but let out a small giggle at how goofy he looks.

You never imagined that Lee Heeseung, known to be overzealous, would be standing in front of you right now, showing this playful and relaxed side of himself that he had bottled up for so long. It's a side of him that only you have the privilege to witness, and it makes you question everything you thought you knew about him.

You wonder what other facets of his character he’s hiding and why he’s chosen to reveal this side to you now. All because you know his little alter ego? Unlikely—you’ve already assured him you wouldn’t tell. Because he wants to uncover a secret of yours so that he'd have something against you too? Probably.

The thought makes your stomach twist. Is he trying to level the playing field, to make sure you both have something to lose? The idea unsettles you, but you can't deny the intrigue it stirs. What would he want to know about you? And more importantly, what are you willing to reveal?

You shake your head slightly, trying to clear your thoughts. The library’s quiet atmosphere suddenly feels charged with unspoken tension. You glance at Heeseung, who’s watching you with a knowing look, a slight smirk still playing on his lips. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a silent dare that both excites and unnerves you.

As much as you want to find your books and leave, a part of you wants to stay and uncover more about the enigmatic Heeseung. His duality is captivating, and you feel a pull towards him, an urge to understand the layers beneath his composed exterior. Your mind races with questions, but for now, you allow yourself to enjoy this rare, unguarded moment with him, feeling a bond forming that you never anticipated.

"Well," you finally say, breaking the silence, "if you’re going to keep surprising me like this, I guess I’ll have to get used to it."

Heeseung chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I guess you will. And who knows, maybe you’ll surprise me too."

"What are you doing here on a Friday afternoon anyway? Don't you have another party to go to or something?" Heeseung asks, scanning the stack of books on the cart you’ve picked out during your short conversation.

"I do actually, thought I could have a little me time before I get back to it," you reply without much thought. But Heeseung, being... well, Heeseung, immediately analyses your seemingly meaningless words.

"I'd assume you'd be a slave to fame at this point. Never knew the Y/L/N Y/N would appreciate some quiet time," he intentionally probes, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of you. As always, he hits the mark.

"There's a lot about me that you don't know, so don't assume shit about anything," you snap back, surprised by the aggression in your own voice. Before you can apologise, Heeseung does.

"Sorry, that was senseless of me."

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that. It's just... y'know, the popular girl gets tired and weighed down by all the attention too," you smile at him, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, and Heeseung notices.

"Anyway, I gotta go sort these out," you say, referring to the stack of books. "I'll see you in class." You’re already moving away before Heeseung has the chance to say anything. He only manages to mumble a quiet, "Bye," but he doubts you heard him.

You did.

In class, all you can think about is how, despite the lecture hall being ridiculously spacious, Heeseung still chooses to sit in the seat right in front of you, forcing you to stare at the back of his head throughout the entire lesson. You notice he no longer has the green highlights in his hair and wonder when he dyed it back. You also thought that after the encounter the both of you had in the school library yesterday, he'd be avoiding you too.

So, why did he choose to sit here, right in front of you? Is it a coincidence, or is he trying to send a message? The questions swirl in your mind, each one more unsettling than the last. You try to shake them off, but they cling to you like the smoke from his cigarette.

This class isn’t even compulsory. You signed up for an additional course on music production after developing a minor interest in DJ-ing, thanks to your extensive partying experience. Mostly, though, you took it for the extra credit and the convenient timing—Saturday evenings—giving you a perfect excuse to skip clubbing with your friends.

You were shocked to see Heeseung on the first day of class, especially since you had no idea about his interest in music production. That was before you discovered he was a beast on the dance floor. Now that you know about his little side hustle, it all starts to make more sense.

The professor’s voice drones on, but your mind is elsewhere. You steal glances at Heeseung, who seems completely absorbed in taking notes. You find yourself analysing every detail of his appearance and behaviour. The way his shoulders move as he writes, the occasional tilt of his head, even the subtle way he shifts in his seat.

You remember the way he looked at you in the library, the way he made you feel both exposed and connected. His presence is distracting, making it hard to focus on anything but the mystery he represents. You force yourself to pay attention to the lecture, scribbling down notes and trying to absorb the material. But your thoughts keep drifting back to Heeseung and the strange dynamic that’s developing between you two.

"Alright class, as we approach your final semester at Decelis, the faculty has been observing your work thus far and has paired you up for a final-year project," the professor announces, prompting a chorus of groans, sighs, and a few enthusiastic cheers from the lecture hall. You mentally curse yourself for not reading up on the coursework before applying; you're already overwhelmed with your thesis, and now you have another project to juggle.

"Settle down. Although the result of your work will not directly affect your GPA, you must actually submit this project to pass the course. Any poor quality or late submissions can and will be reflected on your student record," the professor continues, causing another wave of mixed emotions to ripple through the room.

"Now, don't be so discouraged; at least you'll be working in pairs!" The professor tries to lighten the mood, but it doesn't help much since the students aren't even allowed to choose their own partners. "We have paired you up with partners who either have similar working styles or share the same music taste. Hence, we will not be entertaining any requests to switch partners."

"Gosh, it keeps getting worse," the girl beside you mutters, and you silently snicker at her remark. Just when you think it couldn't get any worse, you're blindsided by the professor's announcement of your partner: Lee Heeseung.

Heeseung turns around in his seat, his usual smirk firmly in place. "Looks like we're stuck with each other," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You force a smile. "Yeah, lucky me."

You’re not particularly thrilled about this pairing because working with Heeseung means constantly being schooled and corrected. The worst part is, you probably can’t even refute him because, although he says it in the worst way possible, he’s never wrong.

On the other hand, you are interested to see how he'd tackle a music production project. You know he is more of a textbook learner, so when yours and Heeseung's names slip out of the professor's mouth in the same sentence, you are curious—excited even—to witness another side of Lee Heeseung that he's never shown to anyone.

Part of you even hopes you'd be paired up with him because you want to talk to him privately without students walking past and giving the two of you weird or judgmental looks. Of course, they would stare; you belong in completely different pigeonholes.

After the lesson is dismissed, you take the chance to talk to him. "Heeseung, hey!" you greet him as he stands up from his seat, packing his bag. To your relief, he doesn't seem to be upset with you about what happened yesterday in the library.

"Y/N!" He is about to give you a playful dab but then realises it probably isn't a good idea with the lecture hall still filled with students. However, you think it is because of what you said about not being "that close," and for a second, you feel a sense of guilt wash over you.

"I was thinking we should get this project started so we can get it over and done with. You cool with that?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he smiles, and you can't help but scream internally. It's such a shame that no one else can see this smile of his.

"What about my place?" Heeseung suggests innocently, but your mind takes it out of proportion with your unnecessary imagination that you know would be better for both you and him to keep to yourself. A slight blush creeps up your cheeks, and you pray to God that Heeseung doesn't notice it.

He does but chooses not to pick on you about it, mainly because he feels his own cheeks heating up too. "Yeah sure, tomorrow okay for you?" he nods, and you reach your hand out to him. He tilts his head to the side, weighing his options before deciding to take it.

You laugh out loud at how cute he looks in the moment. "I was asking for your phone so I could give you my number, but this works too," you tease him, and he quickly pulls his hand back, jokingly pouting, which you find to be adorable.

Heeseung hands you his phone, and you enter your number. "There you go," you say, handing it back to him.

"See you tomorrow then," you say, giving him a small wave as you turn to leave.

When Heeseung texts you his home address, you can't help but feel a twinge of intimidation. You recognise the street name as one where high-status families reside in their luxurious landed properties.

You are further proven right when you alight from the taxi that manoeuvred through the neighbourhood with great difficulty to a meticulously maintained garden surrounding a grand, modern mansion. The sheer size of the property is daunting, and don’t even get you started on the rows of luxury cars parked outside. Your nerves tighten as you approach the front door, feeling like you’re about to step into a different universe.

Despite knowing you shouldn't be prejudiced—after all, you're a victim of it yourself—the thought of potentially running into his parents, siblings, or even distinguished guests scares you shitless. The last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of rich, snobby, and arrogant boomers.

However, you know better than to let that fear deter you from your original goal: completing this godforsaken project. Before you know it, you're ringing the doorbell to his private estate, which is oddly isolated from the rest of the neighbourhood. The gates open, and you step through—into his world.

#2 - The Parallel

Lee Heeseung is the eldest son of the Lee Group, South Korea's largest and most successful healthcare conglomerate. His father, Lee Daeseong, owns Seoul National Hospital and oversees a vast network of clinics, pharmacies, and even veterinary practices. The Lee family boasts a lineage of healthcare professionals, including renowned doctors, surgeons, psychologists, veterinarians, dentists, and pioneering lab researchers.

They aren’t just limited to healthcare either; the family also controls one of the country’s biggest and most luxurious department stores. This revelation surprises you, given that Heeseung never gave off any impression of being well-off, let alone being the eldest son of one of Korea’s richest and most influential families.

You stare in awe as you stroll along the ridiculously long hallway leading to the main living room. The walls are adorned with certificates, trophies, and commemorative pictures showcasing his family's impressive lineage. With each step, you feel smaller and more intimidated, overwhelmed by the weight of their achievements. If your impression of Heeseung hasn’t shifted by now, this discovery definitely did, but you try your best not to let your nervousness show.

You consider the possible reasons why Heeseung has chosen to hide such a significant part of his life behind closed doors. Maybe he was forced to keep it a secret? That seems plausible as you imagine yourself in his shoes—dealing with strangers sucking up to you, not because they wanted to be friends, but because they wanted a taste of old money and power.

As you painstakingly reach the end of the highly esteemed yet spacious foyer, you emerge into a lavishly furnished living area with high ceilings and large windows that let in an abundance of natural light. It exudes typical rich family vibes: unnecessarily large chandeliers, sofas upholstered in the finest fabrics that stretch for what seems like miles, a TV almost the size of your bed back home mounted on the wall, and a grand piano that likely hasn't been touched in ages, standing elegantly in the corner.

The air is perfumed with a subtle, expensive fragrance, and everything gleams with a polished sheen, making you acutely aware of the disparity between this world and your own. You can't help but feel a little out of place.

A friendly old lady approaches you, her steps soft and practised, offering to take your coat and presenting you with comfortable house slippers to switch out your dirty Air Forces for. "Thank you," you say, bowing slightly, feeling a pang of awkwardness in this palace-like setting. You guess she is well into her 70s, her demeanour warm and welcoming yet impeccably professional.

"The young master is upstairs in his room, the last door in the corridor to the right. Be careful not to make too much noise when you pass by the other rooms; Mr. Lee is resting," she advises, prompting you up the huge flight of stairs leading to the second floor. You gulp at her warning, knowing well that the "Mr. Lee" she refers to is Heeseung's father.

As you ascend the stairs, the opulence of the house continues to impress and intimidate you. Each step you take echoes lightly, the staircase grand and sweeping, lined with a plush carpet that feels luxurious under your feet. The walls are adorned with intricate woodwork and expensive art pieces that seem to whisper stories of the family's history and prestige. Finally, you reach the corridor and make your way to the last door on the right, careful to tread lightly as you pass by the other rooms. Your heart races, not just from the physical exertion but from the anticipation of seeing Heeseung in this new light.

You knock softly on the door, your knuckles barely making a sound on the polished wood. The door opens almost immediately, and Heeseung stands there, a welcoming yet slightly embarrassed smile on his face.

"Hey, you made it." Heeseung greets you, stepping aside to allow you into his room before closing the door behind him. "You sleep here?" you ask, scrutinising your surroundings and taking in the spaciousness of his room. "It's the size of my apartment," you add, fawning in awe.

Heeseung shrugs, seemingly indifferent. "It's alright, I guess? I'm not really home most of the time anyway."

"Oh? Then what made you suggest doing it here?" you inquire, genuinely curious.

"I have a producing studio," he replies nonchalantly as if it's the most normal thing ever to have a fully equipped studio in your house. Given the size of his mansion, you're not entirely surprised. Who knows what other unconventional amenities this dreamhouse has to offer? You nod slowly, still adjusting to the opulent environment.

For a guy, his room is remarkably well-kept and smells surprisingly pleasant. The colour scheme is rather mundane—neutral tones of grey and white, with minimal decorations. It doesn't seem to match the character of Heeseung you've come to know. It feels almost impersonal, more like a pre-decorated hotel room than a college student’s sanctuary.

He gestures for you to take a seat on his bed, and you do so awkwardly. You catch him stealing a glance at your exposed legs, making you wonder if wearing shorts and a t-shirt was the right choice, especially since his room is absolutely freezing. "I can lend you some clothes if it makes you more comfortable," he offers, and your ears perk up at the suggestion. You immediately accept.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of joggers and a hoodie. You throw them over your clothes, and it’s needless to say they are way too big for you. You secure the waistband as tight as you can to keep the joggers from slipping down your hips. The sleeves of his hoodie run all the way past your fingers, enveloping you in the familiar scent that comes along with it—a mixture of fresh morning dew and a hint of teakwood. You revel in the natural yet exotic scent he emanates, a fragrance that even the richest-smelling flowers would stand second to. It feels almost... homely, unlike everything else in this mansion.

"Thanks," you say, adjusting the oversized hoodie. Heeseung gives you a small smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual.

"No problem," he replies, his voice softer now. He moves to his desk, cluttered with music equipment and notes.

"Oh right, I really wanted to ask you something," you say, catching Heeseung's attention as he looks up. "I never really pegged you as the musical type, at least not until, you know," you trail off, and he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, "When did it... start?"

"You mean the part where I'm actually a self-absorbed womaniser and also an alcoholic raging reveller?" he quips, a teasing glint in his eye.

"You said it, not me," you respond, trying to keep the mood light.

"Why do you want to know?" he asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"I mean, if anyone else was in my shoes, knowing what I know, they'd be curious too," you explain. He purses his lips, nodding in agreement with your point.

"Well, I can't tell you when it started because, as far as I know, I've always been like this: partying, drinking, sex. It's fun," he shrugs nonchalantly.

"Right... and I can't get over the fact that those words just came out of your mouth. Pardon me, it's going to take a while for me to adjust to this," you say, flailing your arms to emphasise your point.

"All good, it's a first for me too. I don't think anyone knows about it, except you," he admits.

"So like... you're living your Hannah Montana dreams or what?" you joke. He scoffs, rolling his eyes, and you laugh, feeling proud of your joke.

"Why don't you want people to know?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

"Because I can't have my father knowing," he shrugs almost emotionlessly. "Typical crazy rich Asian parents whose entire reason to have kids is so they can impose whatever corrupt business they run onto you when they so unwillingly die someday."

"Sounds like shit," you sympathise.

"You have no idea how shit it really feels: having to hide, lie, and endure the harsh reality that I'll never be able to break free from the grasp of my birth giver. Not everybody gets the freedom to enjoy doing what they want like you do," he says, his voice tinged with bitterness.

You inhale sharply, realising you've touched a sensitive topic. However, you can't help but see yourself in him. "You'd be surprised to know that I actually do."

"How so? You literally have everything: you're pretty, you have good grades, you're popular, you can do whatever the fuck you want, and nobody is going to question you," he retorts. It hits you that even Lee Heeseung can't tell apart your egos. You must have put up a hell of a show to convince someone as sceptical as him.

"You think I'm pretty? I'm honoured, sir," you joke, not wanting to escalate the tension that was so evidently present in the room. Luckily for you, swerving topics is a long-honed skill of yours, having been in similar situations with your friends. Heeseung takes the hint and lets it slide.

Heeseung can't help but notice that he somehow always manages to put his guard down whenever you're around. It's unusual, more like a once-in-a-lifetime situation for him to accidentally lash out and even trauma dump on somebody. He wonders how you could have that type of effect on him when he barely even knows you.

"Enough moping around, let's get started!" you clap, breaking the awkward silence that has enveloped the room. Heeseung hurriedly agrees, and the two of you set off on your own research for ideas and inspiration.

As you scroll through a myriad of pop songs on the web, all of which somehow sound the same, you hear a faint humming despite your headphones pressing firmly around your ears. The sound is angelic, a stark contrast to the not-so-angelic person emitting it, that you think you must be hearing things. "You sing?" you ask, intrigued.

"Sorry, I didn't notice I was humming out loud," Heeseung responds, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Nah, you're good. What song were you humming? It's got a catchy melody," you say, slowly taking off your headphones. He awkwardly chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you, almost embarrassed.

"It's actually a song I've been working on. It's nothing much, though. I was just humming it subconsciously," he admits.

"It's really good," you’re generous with your praise, not able to get the melody out of your head. He turns to look at you, clearly unconvinced. "I mean it." For a few seconds, you and Heeseung just stare at each other, neither willing to look away first.

Your heartbeat speeds up, and you feel heat rushing to your cheeks, tinting them with a shade of pink. The room feels charged with an energy you can’t quite place. You look so divine sitting on his bed and praising his voice that Heeseung feels like he could tell you anything in the world, and you would still be sitting there, listening attentively to him.

"Thanks," he says, looking away shyly, now hyper-aware of your soft gaze on him. An epiphany strikes you as you realise that this is the inspiration you've been looking for, so you waste no time suggesting it to him.

"Actually, why don't we just produce it into an actual song? I think it'll turn out well."

"You think so? Won't it be too... I don't know, ballad-ish?" His interest is piqued when he sits upright after all this time.

"Who said we have to stick to making boring pop music?" you say, placing your hands on your hips in a jokingly menacing way. He laughs, the sound warming you.

"I'm fine with it, if you are," he says, looking expectantly at you. You nod and a huge smile creeps onto his face. You wonder if this is really the same Heeseung you met in that shady alley the day you discovered his alter ego. Because all you see in front of you is an overly excited boy, whose passion for music outweighs any nerdy stereotype or frat boy persona you once held against him.

At that moment, a saying from your psychology professor comes to mind:

"If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change."

Was it just you, or does Heeseung remind you a lot of, well... you?

As you and Heeseung toil away on the song for hours, the room gradually darkens with the fading light outside. With a sigh of frustration, you crumple yet another failed attempt at lyrics, tossing it aside. Draft after draft, the words blur together, leaving you more lost with each attempt compared to the last.

"If I write the word 'love' one more time, I might actually lose it," you grumble, running your hands through your hair and leaning back against the headboard, eyes closed. Heeseung, noticing your weariness, suggests calling it a day. Both of you have been so immersed in your work that time has slipped away unnoticed.

"I'll finish writing this verse, and then I'll leave," you declare, sitting up straight and stretching your arms and fingers as if you’re preparing for war. Rightfully so as it’s a mental battle at this point.

Unbeknownst to you, Heeseung has been watching you intently for a while now, his gaze filled with a mix of admiration and intrigue. Seeing you draped in his oversized hoodie, diligently working on a song that on paper, wouldn’t even benefit you the slightest, captivates him.

Today, Heeseung is the one who gets a glimpse of a different side of you—one that isn’t defined by alcohol-fueled escapades on the dance floor. He finds it admirable how you remain dedicated to your studies despite your popularity. He knows you’re genuinely passionate about pursuing psychology; he sees it in your active participation in class, although it's often misconstrued by others as seeking attention or being humorous, the intention isn’t lost on him.

Today's experience solidifies for him that you're more than just a pretty face, and witnessing your dedication cements his respect for you. Watching you research and write for hours shows him that you truly enjoy learning. How does he know? Because he's much like you, albeit in a different field. While you delve into the study of the human mind and behaviour, Heeseung pours his heart and soul into music—the one thing that keeps him grounded at home, if it can even be called that.

"I've heard so many sappy and depressing ballads, I’m convinced I might end up depressed myself," you confess, crumpling yet another sheet of paper in frustration as you catch Heeseung’s gaze. Heeseung, recalling a past conversation, approaches you with a proposition.

"You know… about that offer you made me that day, is it still on the table?” He stands up, making his way over to you on the bed. You tilt your head, not quite sure what he’s referring to.

“Offer?”

“The one about being called the party queen for a reason?" He prompts, extending his hand out to you. You’re surprised, not expecting him to remember your words that were carelessly spilt from your mouth that day. You didn’t even think he’d take it seriously.

"But it's a Sunday night, and we have class tomorrow."

"So what?"

"Well, shouldn't we be getting some rest?"

"Come on, Y/N, it'll be a nice break from all this. Maybe we'll even find some inspiration," Heeseung persuades, knowing you've entertained the idea yourself. After all, you’ve been drowning yourself in sappy romantic ballads the past three hours or so, that you actually yearn for the club music you despised so much. “Don’t tell me you’re going back on your words now?” Heeseung provokes you, and just like the people pleaser you are, you sigh and agree.

Heeseung suggests a discreet club not far from his home, and as you step inside, the air buzzes with an electric energy. It’s immediately clear to you that this is no ordinary club, and the probability of running into a familiar face is slim, almost close to zero. The most obvious telltale being the aura of sophistication exuded by the clientele, dressed in boujee and classy bejewelled statements that speak of wealth and privilege rather than cheap mini dresses or skirts. If you felt out of place in your casual t-shirt and denim shorts, it's because you are.

"Mr. Lee, I didn't know you'd be coming tonight," the bartender addresses Heeseung, clearly recognising him. You assume he must be a regular for the bartender to call him "Mr. Lee."

"It was on short notice. Don't tell my father though," Heeseung’s playful wink is met with a knowing smile from the bartender, their interaction hinting at a shared history or inside joke.

"So, what? Your family owns clubs now?"

"Not exactly, but I'd like to think we almost run this place. The hospital employees frequent this joint so much that it's become a bit of a Lee thing," Heeseung explains kindly, his tone tinged with a hint of pride. "It's also the only entertainment establishment I’m allowed in without being questioned by my father. If I'm going to be seen partying, it might as well be with the elites, am I right?" He shrugs.

As Heeseung's words sink in, you nod slowly, still processing the layers of his rich boy persona. The revelation adds another dimension to your understanding of his world and the complexities of his affluent background, where even leisure activities come with the weight of familial expectations and scrutiny.

Without warning, he pulls you onto the dance floor, and you can't help but remember the day you first spotted him in the crowd. You recall the look on his face when he locked eyes with you and how attractive he seemed that night. Although he still strikes you today, it's not as remarkable as he appeared the last time you saw him in this setting.

Considering that both of you practically rushed out of his mansion, he's only thrown on a plain top and a black leather jacket. His tousled hair is subtly parted down the middle, exposing his doe eyes that you've grown to appreciate. As you watch him move to the music, a pang of self-consciousness washes over you, thinking if you had something nicer to wear, you’d be turning heads by now.

"Okay, party queen, show me what you got!" Heeseung hollers, his hand firmly clasping yours as he twirls you around the dance floor with practised ease. You can't help but let out a delighted laugh, your heart quickening with the thrill of the moment. "Are you sure? I'm not easy to handle," you tease, raising an eyebrow in a playful challenge.

Undeterred by your jest, Heeseung pulls you closer by the waist. The warmth of his touch on your sides sends a shiver down your spine as you find yourself drawn into him.

Refusing to let him take control of the situation, you play tricks of your own as you throw your arms over his shoulders, drawing yourselves closer as the music pulses around you.

To your surprise, Heeseung doesn't even flinch. Instead, he envelops you in his arms, his hands now resting comfortably on the small of your back. As you gaze up at him, you catch a smirk playing on his lips. Clearly, he's no stranger to your dance floor prowess, and anyone who knows you knows that you can make any guy fold in an instant just by looking into their eyes for a little over three seconds. Well, three seconds pass and Heeseung’s gaze is still locked on yours with an undeniable spark of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"You're enjoying this more than I expected," you tease, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I literally have the esteemed party queen right in front of me, who wouldn't?" Heeseung's response is met with a roll of your eyes, though you can’t deny the flutter of excitement in your chest at his words.

"You're annoyingly flattering, you know that?" Your voice raised slightly above the music as you playfully jab his chest. He reacts with exaggerated surprise, bumping into a nearby patron who shoots you both a disdainful look, their gaze staying on you a second longer, undoubtedly judging your attire.

Ignoring the snide glance, you and Heeseung share a knowing look before bursting into laughter. "Seems she's allergic to your impressive choice of clothing," Heeseung quips, earning an unimpressed scoff from you.

"Please, if you had given me a heads up, I'd probably be the best dressed in this shithole," you retort with a mock huff, crossing your arms in front of you. Heeseung can't help but find your playful indignation utterly endearing, though he's careful not to let it show.

As you stand there, feigning annoyance but unable to conceal the playful glint in your eye, Heeseung feels a surge of affection wash over him. Despite the glamorous setting of the club and the pretentious glances from some of the other patrons, he finds himself drawn to you—an average college girl in a place clearly out of her league, sticking out like a sore thumb among the elites.

Suppressing a smile, he reaches out to gently nudge your arm, his touch light and reassuring. "Come on now, you’ll be turning heads dressed up or not," he says softly, his words sincere. In that moment, amidst the pulsating music and the dimly lit dance floor, he realises just how much he enjoys your company, your playful banter, and your unapologetic presence by his side.

The night was still relatively young, at least in your vocabulary, and just when you thought you had seen every side of this man, he managed to surprise you yet again. He dominates the dance floor with such confidence that you can't help but feel a twinge of competitiveness, sensing your throne as the party queen being challenged. Yet, there's something undeniably endearing about the sight of him, his smile radiant as he sings and dances with indifference to the music.

However, your admiration falters and you assume your eyes are deceiving you when you catch him dancing up against multiple girls, his eyes clouded with lust as he checks them out. From the intense intimacy you shared in his room earlier, dancing the night away was the last thing you expected. Yet, here you are, caught in the whirlwind of the moment.

As you sway to the music, you feel a presence coming up behind you, a young man presumably in his late twenties. You didn’t reject his advances so he takes it as a positive sign to move closer with each step. Turning around, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, swaying your hips in sync with his. His response is palpable, and you revel in the power you hold over him, whispering sweet nothings into his neck as he shivers under your breath.

You chuckle subtly to yourself as you look up from the man, locking gazes with a pair of eyes you know all too well. Meanwhile, Heeseung, wrapped in the arms of another girl, stares intensely over her shoulder at your interaction with the stranger. For a fleeting moment, he imagines himself holding you, corrupting you in ways only he knows how. Sensing your gaze, he quickly diverts his attention, forcefully grabbing the jaw of the girl in front of him, kissing down her neck with a calculated intensity that surprises even you.

Shocked by his sudden display, you feel a surge of heat coursing through your body. Refusing to attribute it to him, you take matters into your own hands. You start sucking on the skin of the guy in front of you, tasting the salty remains of his perspiration that makes you cringe a little as you feel him melt into your arms. Oh, the power you have over men.

All the while, your eyes remain locked with Heeseung's, a silent challenge passing between you. In that moment, he realises the depth of the connection between you, a connection that transcends mere attraction and borders on something far more dangerous. And as he watches the scene unfold, a sense of déjà vu washes over him.

You remind him of someone, someone he knows all too well—an uncanny resemblance to… himself.

Heeseung and you stumble out of the club sometime after midnight, giggling and visibly intoxicated as you lean on each other for support. He stands there, slightly swaying, with his leather jacket slung over his shoulder, a goofy smile plastered on his face. In this moment, he seems carefree and boyish, a stark contrast to the different facets of his personality you've come to know. Heeseung is a man of many faces, and you have had the honour of witnessing them all... well, almost all.

You gaze at him endearingly, reflecting on how your relationship with Heeseung has changed so drastically in just a matter of weeks. The two of you barely knew each other before; you were practically strangers with only a superficial understanding of one another. Come to think of it, you don't even know his favorite colour. However, the connection between you feels like you've known him for a lifetime, and you're sure Heeseung feels the same way.

As you stand there, the world spinning slightly from the alcohol, you reflect on how Heeseung has become a cornerstone of your life. There's a comfort in his presence that allows you to be vulnerable, showing him sides of yourself you wouldn't normally reveal to anyone else. He, in turn, seems to trust you implicitly with his deepest, darkest secrets (literally).

Not wanting this magical moment to end, you discreetly pull out your phone. You aim the camera at Heeseung, capturing him in all his glory—his tousled hair, his bright eyes, the unguarded joy on his face. The click of the camera shutter is soft, almost imperceptible, but the image it captures is one you know you'll treasure forever.

You are so caught up in angling your phone so the street lamp highlights his features perfectly that you don't even notice when Heeseung turns his attention to you. His smile softens as he watches you, a tender look in his eyes that catches you off guard when you finally glance up.

Snap.

"You know I'm right here in the flesh, right? Why look through a picture when you can experience the real thing?" Heeseung smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief as you fumble with your phone, quickly hiding it behind your back. His chuckle makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Come on, I'll take you home," he says, already starting to walk away before you have a chance to protest.

"You don't really have to," you say nervously, catching up to him. He looks down at you, his warm smile making your heart skip a beat.

"It's the least I can do after dragging you out here with me. Besides, it's getting late," he replies, his voice gentle and reassuring. You fiddle with your fingernails and nod in defeat, grateful but slightly flustered.

The walk home is quiet, but it's a comforting silence, filled with unspoken words of affirmation and the soft hum of the city at night. Your outfit isn't exactly ideal for the chilly fall weather, and you mentally face-palm when you realise you left your coat at Heeseung's place. The cold seeps in, making you shiver beneath the featureless grey clouds that blanket the streets of Seoul.

Suddenly, you feel a rough, heavy material fall over your shoulders, wrapping you in warmth. Heeseung has placed his leather jacket on you after noticing your visible shivering. "Idiot, you should've worn something warmer," he scolds lightly, his concern evident in his eyes.

You chuckle, feeling a surge of gratitude and a warm blush spreading across your cheeks. "I didn't think it'd be this cold already. Also, I didn't exactly plan to stay out this long," you retort playfully, shooting him a mock glare. He smiles sheepishly, his own cheeks tinged with a faint pink.

As you continue walking, you find yourself sneaking glances at Heeseung, marveling at how quickly he has become such an important part of your life. The leather jacket smells like him, a comforting mix of cologne, cigarettes and something uniquely Heeseung. It feels like a protective embrace, and you can't help but feel a little giddy.

In what seems like no time, you find yourself standing in front of your apartment building. Heeseung glances around, surprised at how quickly the walk seemed to pass. It felt like thirty minutes, yet somehow it seems like barely half that. You reluctantly hand his jacket back, feeling the warmth linger on your skin. "Thank you," you say, genuinely grateful and a bit sad to see the night end.

"Anytime," he replies with a soft smile, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. You bid him goodbye and head into the building, feeling his eyes on you until you enter the lift.

Heeseung puts on his leather jacket, now imbued with hints of your perfume. The scent lingers, a comforting reminder of the night. As he walks back home through the bustling streets, his mind is filled with the events of the evening, a smile playing on his lips. The city lights blur around him, and he can't help but feel that tonight was the start of something truly special.

Just as you had thought, clubbing the night before a school day probably wasn't the smartest idea, but if you were being honest with yourself, you had no regrets. After that night, you felt a noticeable shift in your relationship with Heeseung, and it was definitely a positive one. So many things were left unsaid, but there was no need for words; you both just knew.

It didn't come as much of a surprise when you and Heeseung stopped avoiding each other on campus. In fact, the two of you were practically inseparable, spending every possible moment together. Some might even think you were dating. That wouldn't sound so bad, except for the fact that your reputations were complete opposites—the party girl and the goody-two-shoes show-off? Unfortunately, you weren't the only one who thought it was an odd pairing.

"Y/N, what's up with you and the smart aleck?" Yunjin asks as she sits down across from you, joining Sakura and Chaewon in their persistent quest to dig up whatever you might be hiding about Heeseung.

"First off, his name is Heeseung," you sigh, shifting over to make room for Sunghoon, who sits next to you. "And there's absolutely nothing going on."

"Mhm..." Yunjin props her chin on her fingers, clearly not convinced by your half-hearted answer.

"Look, we're just working together on a project and got to know each other. He's actually a decent person, so there's no need for me to push him away. There's nothing more to it," you explain, trying to sound casual.

Sakura squints her eyes, staring intently into your soul like the lie detector she is. You realise you're holding your breath, feeling an unexpected wave of nervousness. Why are you so anxious? It's not like you're lying. When Sakura finally smiles, you silently release a breath of relief, thankful that her smile seems to have debunked the suspicions of the other girls.

"Okay, okay, we'll drop it... for now," Chaewon says, grinning mischievously.

"Speak of the devil," Yunjin says, pointing. You follow her gaze and, lo and behold, there’s Lee Heeseung with his attention on you and your group of friends. You smile and wave, which he gladly acknowledges, waving back and reminding you of your appointment later to continue working on the song you had to abruptly pause the other day.

As you watch him walk over to his own group of friends not too far away, you can hear his sweet laughter over the noise of the bustling cafeteria. Your body is at the table, reacting to your friends' conversations, but your soul is patently somewhere else, drawn to Heeseung.

"To be honest, he's actually not bad looking," Yunjin says, shrugging her shoulders and bringing up Heeseung again, which catches your attention. "If only he wasn't so annoyingly unlikeable. There's only so far a pretty face can get you." Your friends nod along with Yunjin's statement, and you suck in a quick breath, trying to hide your frustration. It affects you how your friends think of Heeseung, but you feel helpless to change their minds. After all, you've told them he's nothing more than a mere friend.

"Now that guy beside him," Yunjin nods towards the younger-looking boy beside Heeseung, "he could hit me up anytime." You roll your eyes at her usual flirty antics; she never fails to check out any decent-looking guy within her preying vision.

"I believe his name is Jake," Sunghoon pipes up, surprising you since he usually never joins in on your girly talks.

"Jake Sim? As in the famously smart junior from the faculty of health sciences?" Chaewon asks, and Yunjin seems intrigued.

"Yeah, you heard about him, Chaewon?"

"Of course, everyone from HS has heard his name before. He's famous for being the guy who tried to resurrect a rat during his dissection practicum, though it didn't exactly work out," Chaewon explains. You, being from the same faculty, struggle to recall ever hearing about this 'Jake.'

"He WHAT?" Yunjin bursts out laughing as Chaewon shrugs her shoulders. "Honestly, I don't even know. What I do know is, he's a total softie and extremely humble, unlike his best friend."

"I'm glad you and Lee Heeseung aren't what I thought you guys were. It'd be detrimental to your reputation if you were ever involved with him in that way,"

"Thanks for the concern, Yunjin, but I can take care of myself," you reply, standing up with your tray of almost untouched food. You excuse yourself, saying you don't have much of an appetite. Thankfully, your friends don't think much of it. Sunghoon, however, catches the tension lifting your shoulders and can't help but feel like you're hiding more than you let on—maybe even facts that you yourself aren't fully aware of.

As you walk away, you steal one last glance at Heeseung. He's engrossed in conversation with his friends, but for a brief moment, he looks up and your eyes meet. There's a spark of something unspoken, something that makes your heart race and your mind whirl with possibilities.

A week has passed since that weirdly infuriating conversation with your friends, and during this time, you've done a lot of thinking... like a lot. It bothers you how much their words about Heeseung affected you more than you'd like to admit. It's true that your relationship with him has changed in ways you never expected, but he was nothing more than a friend—friends who share life-changing secrets, but still, just friends.

I mean, you were just looking out for a good friend, right? It was out of your guilty conscience that you couldn't sit there and listen to your friends talk smack about someone they clearly didn't know two shits about. Your friendship with Heeseung has advanced to something more than just surface-level "heys" and "how's your day?" So, clearly, your friends were wrong for judging him based on stereotypes and rumours... right?

You find yourself running away from the answer you so desperately seek, but all you can think about is—do Heeseung's friends talk about you that way too? Do they see you as an attention-seeking whore, a chronic people-pleaser, a clubbing maniac with an alcohol addiction? If they do, does he defend you like you did for him?

The answer would be ‘yes’, because Heeseung had just as much of a week as you did, with his friends constantly asking about you. Each time, he gave them the same exact answer: "We're just working on a project together." It disturbed him how even people he barely knew felt compelled to ask about you, some going as far as inquiring if you were any good in bed. It saddens him that this is the impression people have of you when he knows you are so much more than just the girl who parties a lot. He wonders if you are aware of the things people say about you, and all he can hope for is that you stay blissfully ignorant of it.

You've been avoiding your friends since that day in the cafeteria, not because of what they said, but because of how you reacted. The intensity of your feelings scared you, and you dread being put in that same predicament again if they inevitably bring up Heeseung.

Your friends didn't sense anything off about your behaviour that day, and you don't blame them. After all, you've been hiding your true feelings from day one; you're far from an open book, and your friends know about as much about you as the strangers you walk past every single day.

However, a week of avoiding your friends did made them question if something went wrong, especially since you were so active around Heeseung but shied away whenever one of them approached you. Their concern grew, but it didn't last long when you showed up at the weekly frat party, best dressed as always.

You couldn't let this setback ruin the reputation you had worked so hard to build and keep, so you decided to suck it up, put on the sluttiest mini dress you owned, and went to work.

The party is in full swing when you arrive, the bass from the speakers vibrating through your body. You make an entrance, turning heads as you stride confidently through the throngs of partygoers. Your friends spot you almost immediately, their expressions a mix of relief and curiosity.

"Y/N! There you are! We were starting to worry," Yunjin calls out, waving you over.

You flash a dazzling smile, pushing away the nervous flutter in your stomach. "Hey, guys! Sorry, I've been a bit busy," you say, trying to keep your tone light and breezy.

Sakura raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Busy with Heeseung, huh?"

You laugh it off, though the comment hits closer to home than you care to admit. "We've just been working on our project. Nothing more."

The conversation shifts as your friends drag you to the dance floor, the thumping music drowning out any further interrogation. You lose yourself in the rhythm, your body moving to the beat, the worries of the past week melting away under the flashing lights and the haze of alcohol. Yet, even as you dance, you can't help but scan the room for Heeseung even though you know he can never be caught dead at a frat party. It's just become a habit, this unconscious need to know where he is, what he's doing.

Heeseung isn’t any better, constantly refreshing his Instagram feed to catch the latest updates on what you were up to. It’s not difficult, considering you were everywhere on everyone’s stories. Heeseung scrolls through the endless array of posts, his smile tinged with an emotion he can't quite place. He watches you chugging a glass of beer in Sakura's story, admiring the way you dance on the floor in Jay's, and even feeling a tinge of jealousy at the closeness you had with guys other than himself. Despite the show of carefree revelry, he knows you'd rather be working late into the night on the song you two were supposed to be writing together.

“What a life you have, Y/N,” Heeseung mutters to himself, laying back on the fluffy comforter that still carries the faint scent of you from your last visit. He hasn’t changed it out, clinging to the lingering trace of your presence, finding an unexpected comfort in it. He wishes you were right there beside him.

He closes his eyes, picturing your laughter filling the room, the way your eyes light up when you're excited about something. He imagines you working together on the song, bouncing ideas off each other, and the comfortable silence that often falls between you when words aren’t necessary.

A sigh escapes his lips as he grapples with these feelings, pondering if you feel the same way, if you think about him when you're out with your friends or if he even crosses your mind at all. The thought of you being surrounded by other people, especially guys who don't understand you the way he does, makes him uneasy.

Unlike you, he was fully aware of the tension between you two, a tension that screamed "more than friends." Despite this awareness, he had no immediate plans to act on it. Then again, things don't always go according to plan, do they?

You cannot begin to explain how thankful you are for Heeseung's perfect excuse to bail you out of this messy alcoholic galore. "Chaewon! I have to go!" you shout over the music, pushing your way through the crowd to get to her. "What? Why? It's not even midnight yet!"

"Something went wrong with the project file I'm working on!" Chaewon pouts, clearly disappointed that you can't stay longer. "Can't you stay a little while longer? I think they're popping the expensive bottles soon!"

"I can't, I’ve spent way too much time on it to lose it now!" You feel a pang of guilt for having to come up with yet another lie. Every time you swear to yourself that you won't do it again, but it happens so often that it has just become second nature.

"Sorry!" you say, downing the last of your beer and setting the glass down on the counter beside Chaewon. "You're good, I guess it can't be helped! I'll let the rest know you had to leave earlier, don't worry about it!" You mentally thank the angel that is Kim Chaewon for not questioning you any further. You hurriedly gather your belongings and make your way out of the house.

You’ve walked the halls of Heeseung’s mansion and knocked on the door of his room more times than you could count on one hand. However, this time you’re standing at the head of his door not because you can't wait to bombard him with ideas and song lyrics for your project, but because he simply wanted to hang out—just the two of you, in his room.

"Hey, you made it," he greets, opening the door. That familiar musky scent washes over you, and you notice how he stands there silently, staring at you—or rather, what you’re wearing.

"I couldn't change on my way here," you blurt out. You didn't really have to, but you find the need to explain yourself to him. You feel so vulnerable under his gaze, and you’re not sure if it's the alcohol kicking in that makes your body heat up or the fact that Heeseung is blatantly checking you out. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to turn up in front of him, visibly tipsy and wearing the most inappropriate thing you own.

"Come in, I’ll grab something for you to change into," Heeseung says, stepping aside and gesturing for you to close the door after you. You stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, waiting for him to return. In this short time frame, you can feel yourself sobering up in the quietness of his space. You wish you had drunk a bit more so you wouldn't be so hyper-aware of the tension that has conveniently presented itself within these walls.

After what feels like hours, Heeseung returns with a newly-washed hoodie. You recognise it as the one he always lends you when you come over. The hoodie is as much yours as it is his at this point.

"Why are you just standing there like that? It’s not like it’s your first time here anyway," Heeseung says, throwing himself onto the bed and gesturing for you to sit beside him.

You pull the hoodie over your head, feeling the soft fabric envelop you in its familiar warmth. The scent of Heeseung clings to it, making you feel a strange mix of comfort and nervousness. You awkwardly shift next to him, the bed dipping under your combined weight as he chuckles softly, amused at how differently you’re acting in front of him.

You mentally thank Heeseung for his insanely perfect proportions that his hoodie covered all the way down to your thighs, especially as you feel your dress riding up your hips when you sit down.

"Seemed like you were having a lot of fun. Didn't really expect you to actually show up," Heeseung says, grabbing the mid-sized soft toy sitting at the edge of his bed and placing it on your lap.

Chuckling, you play with the ears of the teddy bear. "You know damn well I’d rather be working on that song with you. Though we’re not actually doing anything right now..." Heeseung laughs, clearly satisfied that he knows you so well. It makes him feel special.

"Don’t get so cocky now," you smirk, looking at him.

"You think I don’t know you missed me so much you took the opportunity to invite me over even though you knew I was out?" You raise an eyebrow, intentionally teasing him. It has become a running joke between the two of you that Heeseung has some sort of infatuation towards you. He texts you over every little thing, and you, being embarrassingly awkward and heavily influenced by your flirtatious lifestyle, make a joke out of it.

Heeseung doesn’t deny it, though. Maybe he really does feel some sort of attraction toward you, one that’s more than merely sexual.

"What were you doing before I came over?" you ask, your curiosity piqued as you play with the teddy bear, moving its limbs in circular motions like a mini b-boy dance routine.

"Thinking," Heeseung replies, staring at you absentmindedly.

"About?"

"You," he says simply.

You turn to face him, a little too quickly for your liking. You don't want to seem shocked or flustered, so you keep your composure. Snickering, you try to play it off as a harmless tease. "Your awful attempts at seduction won't work on me, Heeseung."

"I didn't say it would be easy," he shrugs, casually picking a piece of lint off the sleeve of your—well, technically his—hoodie.

"You're such a flirt. How do the people around you not notice that trait of yours?"

"I'm a pretty convincing actor if I do say so myself," he says, dramatically brushing his fingers through his hair. "Better than you even."

"Puh-lease, even Angelina Jolie has nothing on me," you retort, joining in the act by dramatically flipping your hair in his direction, inadvertently smacking him in the face.

"Why are you here again?"

"Shut up, don’t act like you weren’t the one begging me to come over."

"Ha! You wish you had that power over me," you say, not realising how close you've gotten to Heeseung during your playful banter. He stares directly into your eyes, and you're not sure if he's being dense or just incredibly bold, but he shows no intention of breaking the eye contact. You lose the unintended battle when the intensity becomes too much as you fold and look away first.

"You're unbearable," you mutter, returning to fiddling with the teddy bear now sprawled gracelessly on your lap.

"I know," Heeseung replies, a smirk playing on his lips. “But you're right. I did want you here. It’s just… nice having you around, and not having the silence in this house deafen me once in a while.”

His honesty takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. "Well, I’m here now," you say softly, meeting his gaze.

“Okay, but you were the one who willingly showed up at my doorstep, so who's the one begging?”

“And you're back to being annoying,” you roll your eyes in mockery.

Heeseung laughs, the sound light and genuine. "Can't help it. It’s part of my charm."

"How does Jake even tolerate you?" you ask, carelessly name-dropping the Jake that you and your friends talked about the other day—the Jake he has never once mentioned to you. You mentally curse yourself the moment you realise your slip-up.

"Oh? How do you know Jake?"

"Everyone from HS knows him. He's pretty popular, didn’t you know?" You try to play it cool, channelling your inner Angelina Jolie, but your calm demeanour always seems to crumble around Heeseung. Unlike everyone else, Heeseung can read you like a book.

"Mhm..." He raises his eyebrows, smirking, and you know you've been caught. "To be fair, it wasn't me, more like Yunjin and Chaewon," you say, mentally apologising to your friends for throwing them under the bus. The last thing you want is for Lee Heeseung to think that you’re interested in him.

"Sure it was," he says with a benevolent smile, letting you off the hook.

"So, what kind of person is Jake?" you ask, trying to shift the conversation and cover your slip-up, after all you're a professional topic changer (or so you think). Heeseung doesn't tease you, sensing your semi-embarrassment at having exposed yourself for talking about him when he isn’t around.

"He's basically like the little brother I never had," Heeseung says, and you notice the corners of his lips lift as he talks about Jake. There's a softness in his expression that you hadn't seen before, a genuine affection that seems to light up his face. "He's had my back ever since middle school."

"The two of you must be very close then?" you prompt, curious about the depth of their relationship.

"Yeah... I mean, we do fight here and there, but it was never that serious. That was our friendship: equal parts irritation and cooperation," he trails off, a fondness in his eyes as he speaks. The way he talks about Jake, with such nostalgia and warmth, makes you realise how precious their friendship is to him. You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy, wishing you had someone who spoke about you with the same reverence.

"Which is why it would absolutely break my heart if he finds out I've been lying to him this entire time," he adds, his smile turning tender yet strained.

"You've never told him?" you ask, not wanting to be that person but realising you both are doing the exact same thing to the people you care about. Were you really such horrible people? Is it so wrong to be someone that you're clearly not?

"I couldn't bear to," Heeseung's usual imperious tone vanishes, replaced with a melancholic hint as if he’s on the brink of breaking down. "He looks up to me not just as someone older than him; he told me I was his role model." The tension in his voice is palpable, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. Heeseung's usually confident demeanour falter, revealing a vulnerability that catches you off guard. He’s always been the one with the answers, the one in control, and seeing him like this stirs something deep within you.

His voice wavers, and you feel the weight of his words. "Now what kind of person would I be if I told him that his role model is actually a delinquent who smokes and drinks his life away, on top of that doing everything behind his parents' backs?" Heeseung shifts his gaze from his fingernails toward you, but this time you don’t look away—you can’t. The Lee Heeseung you knew was confident, arrogant, and sometimes a total douchebag, so to see him so helpless, with pain so evidently present in his speech, completely breaks your heart.

You feel an overwhelming sense of empathy, realising that Heeseung, like you, is struggling with his own contradictions and fears. The façade he maintains is just as fragile as yours, and for the first time, you see him not as the perfect student or the flawless person but as someone who is deeply flawed and painfully human.

"Heeseung," you say softly, your voice trembling with emotion. "You’re not a bad person. We all have things we regret, things we’re not proud of. But those don’t define who we are entirely. Jake looks up to you because he sees something good in you, something worth admiring. Maybe it’s time you start seeing that in yourself too."

Heeseung's eyes soften, and you can see the conflict in them. He wants to believe you, to find solace in your words, but the weight of his guilt and shame holds him back. "It's hard," he admits. "Living up to everyone's expectations. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning."

You want him to know he isn't alone, that you relate to him, and that it's okay not to be okay. You try to convey this through your eyes, but this time, he’s the one who looks away first.

"Why do you think I attend all these parties?" you ask, your words heavy with emotion, urging Heeseung to look up at you. "Because you're stressed out about school and it's your stress reliever, isn't it?"

"That's where you're wrong, Heeseung," you reply, noticing the little arch forming on his eyebrows. You let out a giggle. "I club because that's what people expect me to do." You look solemnly at the teddy bear in your arms, as if speaking to it could somehow bring you comfort.

"Expect you to do...?"

"Because the popular girl is supposed to be fun and carefree, the life of every party. She's not supposed to be talking to self-absorbed smart alecs," you turn toward him as you finish your sentence, "because I'm that popular girl."

"Y'know, if my mom and dad saw me in this dress in some shady club downtown, they'd pack me up in a box and ship me off to North Korea," you joke lightly, not wanting the mood to spoil any more than it already has. "And honestly, I think my source of stress actually comes from me clubbing." You shrug it off, making it seem like no big deal. After all, you’re used to pretending to be somebody you’re not.

Heeseung, however, stares at you wistfully, his lips parted in surprise. This entire time he thought clubbing was something you enjoyed, a way to reduce your stress. He believed that the times you'd refuse to party were because you were caught up with submissions or exams. Your words strike him deeply, and it hurts him to think that you have to hear and endure the shit that comes out of people’s mouths about you that isn’t really… well, you.

"Your friends know about it?" Heeseung asks cautiously, aware of how close you and your friends are. He’s taken aback when you shamefully shake your head, your gaze fixed on the bear in your lap.

"Just like you, I couldn't bear to tell them. They'd be disappointed. Chaewon especially would beat herself up for not noticing," your voice is barely above a whisper, but in the silence of his room, it’s all he can hear. He feels the weight of your confession, the awkwardness overflowing the edges of the room. Not wanting to push it any further, you put on the smile you’ve perfected over the years.

Heeseung's expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "But you’re so much more than that," he says quietly. "You don’t have to be what everyone expects. You can just be you."

"I'm not trying to get your attention or sound pitiful. I just want you to know that you're not alone in this, Heeseung. I know how it feels to be helpless, thinking that the only way around it is to make up more lies to cover up the ones you've already told," you say, your gaze locking firmly onto his. Neither of you is willing to look away.

“We all feel like that at times. But you have people who care about you, who see the real you, even when you can’t see it yourself. And Jake—if he truly admires you, he’ll understand. He’ll still look up to you, maybe even more so for your honesty.” Heeseung nods slowly, absorbing your words. The vulnerability in his eyes makes your heart ache, and you wish you could take away his pain. “And it doesn't have to be now or tomorrow that we come clean about it. Hell, it might never even happen. So, don't blame yourself for it. If you do, you have to blame me too..."

You notice his face inching closer with every word that escapes your now quivering lips. You’re not sure whether he’s doing it intentionally or if he’s so deep in thought that he doesn’t realise your noses are touching, your lips just inches apart.

"Y-you don't have to tell Jake about it if you don't want to. I just wanted you to know that," your voice is breathless, probably inaudible if Heeseung wasn’t literally in your face. "So now that I know that you know that I know..." your train of thought derails with the distraction at hand. You bring your hand up to his chest in an attempt to wake him from whatever daze you think he’s in.

"I wouldn’t have to worry—"

He’s in no daze.

In the short one-and-a-half months that you’ve known this man, he’s reached into the deepest parts of your soul and connected them with his own, all before you even knew what his hands felt like. Despite what the majority say, despite everyone insisting that the two of you don’t belong together, you’re sitting here, body to body, chest to chest, hands in his, his hands on yours, and it feels so right.

So right that somehow, against all the wrongs you’ve been writing, you’re kissing him. You close your eyes, slowly drowning out the world around you; all the noise, the expectations, all the lies fade into white noise. In this moment, it’s just the two of you, raw and vulnerable.

You relish the familiar scent of teakwood and the fragrant floral scent of his laundry detergent. You also pick up the tangy smell of cigarettes lingering on his body, all of which drive you completely crazy.

The intensity of his kiss is indescribable, almost as if all the paths in the world have led to this very moment, and no matter how hard you or Heeseung try to stray away from it, you’ll always find your way back. He tugs on your arm, pulling you closer until you nearly fall onto his lap. He holds you so tightly, as if afraid you might run off. The sense of desperation he exudes is almost hungry, and you show him just how hungry you are for him too.

His arms slide around your waist, pulling you even closer. You swing your legs over him so that you are now straddling him, your arms running up his chest and around the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. Your lips move in unison, in a rhythmic silence that only the two of you can hear, speaking a language that only your souls understand.

There is a connection between you two that is so strong and priceless that the universe refuses to keep you apart. Heeseung moves back from your lips, but only far enough to catch a glimpse of your eyes, which remind him of the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on the ceiling of his room in an unfathomable mural.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes flicker between his darkened gaze and his lips, now swollen from your bites. To Heeseung, describing you as beautiful feels like an understatement. Everything about you is so foreign to him, yet so familiar. Maybe it’s the stories you’ve shared, the hurt, the longing for freedom that instigates that sense of familiarity.

He presses his lips back onto yours, attempting to tip your head back. You gasp as you feel him trailing feather-light kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone. The sensation is so new and out of this world that it sends shivers down your spine. You cup your hands around his face, pushing him away gently so that he is face-to-face with you again. Your eyes meet, and it's as if your souls catch on fire. With your heart pounding wildly, you’re sure Heeseung can hear it. Your suspicions are confirmed when he flashes you a teasing smirk.

"Excited now, aren't we, Y/N?" The tips of your ears heat up, and you can only imagine how red they must be. You push your finger into the centre of his forehead, trying to break his piercing gaze and give yourself a moment to regain composure.

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it yourself," you say, puffing up your cheeks in embarrassment. He shrugs, pulling you into one last embrace before lifting you gently off his lap and setting you back onto the duvet beside him.

"I'll go wash up and then take you home. Wait here, yeah?" He caresses your cheek, and you nod, watching as he stands up and heads towards the bathroom. You lie back, still feeling the warmth of his touch and the intensity of the moment lingering in the air.

You curl up in the comfort of his blankets, replaying the scene that had just taken place over and over again in your head. It only just occurs to you that you and Lee Heeseung had just made out. You place a hand on your chest, feeling the abnormal pattern of your heartbeat and the churning sensation in your stomach; it’s as if a whole zoo has been released inside you.

Exactly like how curiosity killed the cat, you dig relentlessly into the mystery that is Lee Heeseung. You notice that your heart is expanding uncontrollably as you get to know him better. It’s true that you’ve always desired a man to regard you as if you were a miracle, but what you hadn’t anticipated was that you would someday come across a man who actually do.

You smile softly, feeling a sense of connection with him that goes beyond the superficial. In this moment, you realise that despite the façades and the lies, you both are just trying to navigate through life, searching for acceptance and understanding. And maybe, just maybe, you can find that in each other.

Bringing the collar of his hoodie up to your nose, you inhale the comforting scent of Heeseung. You’re so occupied and distracted by everything that has happened tonight that it doesn’t even occur to you how physically and mentally exhausted you are. Without any care in the world, you unconsciously fall into a deep slumber, a subtle smile plastered on your lips as you grip tightly onto the sleeves of his hoodie.

On the other hand, washing up is just an excuse for Heeseung to escape the uninvited sexual tension that arose while you were making out. He closes his eyes, and all he can hear are the words of disappointment his father had said to him before. It scares him. Heeseung leans against the door of his bathroom, hands on his chest, feeling the irregular rhythm of his heartbeat.

He’s attracted to you, sure, but falling in love? It’s out of the question.

He takes a deep breath before confidently opening the door, his expression stoic. However, it’s later proved that he’s indeed a bad actor when his eyes soften and a smile unconsciously creeps up his lips as he watches you sleep so carelessly on his bed.

Heeseung sits down gently at the corner of his bed, the fondness in his smile never fading as he listens to the quiet breathing coming from your lips that were so desperately on his just a few minutes ago. He softly brushes a strand of hair aside and tucks it behind your ear, and only then does he notice just how long your eyelashes are.

He scrutinises your face, taking in every little feature he hadn’t noticed before, like the mole hidden right under your lip or the faded scar just above your eyebrow. He traces his finger along your jawline but snaps himself out of it when he realises how close he is to your face.

Sighing, Heeseung brushes a hand through his hair as he considers what he should do with you. Not wanting to wake you up, he tucks you in by throwing a blanket over you and slides onto the other side of his bed, making sure he isn’t too close to you. He lies on his side, staring at you, with millions of thoughts running through his mind. Only after what feels like hours does he slowly feel sleep catching up to him, not able to hear the sound of a car backing into the front porch of his property.

You awaken from your slumber to the blinding sunlight penetrating your eyelids. You lay on your back, unmoving for a while, staring at the ceiling covered in stars and down at the surroundings until you recognise that this isn’t your room.

You snap your head to the left and almost scream when you see the sleeping figure of Lee Heeseung, his face only inches away from you. His hand is draped around your waist, and his lips are slightly parted—those lips. That’s right, the same lips that were on your very own the night before. You can barely catch yourself staring compellingly at him when you see his lips move.

"Good morning, sunshine," your eyes flicker up to his, finding them open and staring right back at you. A teasing expression creeps up on his face, and you gulp, knowing damn well that he has caught you in your little act. Something about Heeseung seems different this morning—perhaps it's his demeanour. He does seem more confident for some reason. So, why does he suddenly seem more attractive to you?

You shake your thoughts away as you turn your gaze back to the ceiling. "I thought you were going to take me home. What happened?"

"I was, until you decided to sleep like a roaring pig," he chuckles as he slowly sits up from his lying position. "It was impossible to wake you up." Heeseung teases as he tickles your feet, making you jerk them back, a pout forming on your lips.

"I do not snore," you jokingly sneer at him as you lightly kick him in his shin. Heeseung laughs as he gets off the bed, shivering as the cold air comes into contact with his exposed skin. His morning voice throws you off with how deep it is, and you shiver at the tone of his voice. Heeseung then throws on a hoodie and leaves the room without another word.

Is it just you, or is Heeseung pretending as if nothing happened between you two last night? You feel your heart drop in disappointment, but the feeling quickly subsides when Heeseung returns a few minutes later with clothes in his hand—women's clothes.

"These belong to my older sis. Pretty sure you're around the same size," he says, handing you a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. You return the gesture with a smile and slowly begin taking off the hoodie you’ve been wearing since last night. You instantly notice Heeseung turning shy, his gaze momentarily dipping down before he looks away, pointing at your legs as he does so.

You look down, petrified, realising how far up your dress has ridden, exposing your thighs entirely.

"Don't look!" you shriek as Heeseung nods and you quickly throw on the clothes he provided over your dress, pleased that they fit just slightly bigger than you.

"Okay, you can look now," your voice is small, clearly embarrassed, but you try to play it cool. Heeseung notices, but he doesn’t pick on you for it.

"Hey, look at that, it fits just right," he smiles with a hint of nostalgia, his eyes tracing over the familiar clothing on a body that’s not so familiar to him.

"I didn't know you had a sister," you say, carelessly folding his hoodie and placing it neatly on the corner of his bed.

"Yeah, I don't really talk about her that much," he shrugs, picking up his car keys from his bedside table, signaling that he's ready to go whenever you are.

You slowly descend the staircase leading down into the common room, afraid that someone might hear and realise a stranger is in their house. Out of the many times you have been over, you have luckily never run into anyone other than the friendly old lady who greeted you at the front door.

Trailing behind Heeseung, your eyes wander everywhere except where you are going. This explains why you don’t notice Heeseung stopping in his tracks, and you clumsily bump into him. "You can't just stop in the middle of the halls," you grumble, peeking out from behind his shoulders to give him a big scolding. However, your intended reprimand is cut short when you see the reason for his sudden halt: an older man who bears a striking resemblance to Heeseung.

"Lee Heeseung, where are you going?" the man’s voice carries an assertive tone, his haughty demeanour sending shivers down your spine. His mere presence changes the mood in the usually silent house. He looks over at you, scrutinising you from head to toe, and then scoffs, giving you a look of disapproval as if you were caught committing a crime. In that moment, you mentally thank Heeseung for offering you a change of clothes.

Heeseung must notice how uncomfortable you feel under the man’s gaze. He pulls you behind him and shoots the man a glare of his own. "I'm just stepping out for a moment," he says, his usual snarky tone replaced with a nervous one.

"It's been a while since you've had someone over, hasn't it? Why don't you invite your little friend here to stay for some breakfast?" the man suggests with a smile that hides a hint of sarcasm. Who the hell does he think he is to talk to Heeseung like that?

"That won't be necessary, Father," Heeseung replies firmly.

Well fuck, you think, your eyes widening momentarily before you manage to withdraw the confused expression from your face. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Lee," you greet with a bow, trying to sound as calm as possible despite your pounding heartbeat. He barely acknowledges you, responding with a dismissive blink.

"I insist," Mr. Lee speaks with authority, making it clear that this is not a suggestion but a command. Heeseung is about to refute when you quickly interject, "I would love to.

As you make the long journey through the halls to the kitchen, you walk beside Heeseung with your head hanging low. Suddenly, you feel a vibration coming from your back pocket.

He nudges you softly, and you smile. That smile alone reassures Heeseung that everything will be okay because you are right beside him. The simple gesture, so intimate and sincere, calms the turmoil within him.

You sit next to Heeseung at the table, with his father situated across from him. The atmosphere is suffocating, making you feel queasy despite the lavish breakfast spread before you. It’s not just the tension in the air; it’s something about Mr. Lee—something ominous despite his composed demeanour. His presence dominates the room, casting a shadow over the entire meal.

"Eat," Mr. Lee commands, and Heeseung immediately picks up his utensils, stuffing food into his mouth with a mechanical precision. Despite your lack of appetite, you follow suit and start eating, the food tasting like sawdust in your mouth. You try to focus on the act of eating, but the knot in your stomach tightens with every bite.

"I didn't manage to catch your name, girl," Mr. Lee says, his voice dripping with condescension. You look up at him, noticing how even the way he eats is posh and lavish. His every movement exudes an air of superiority, making you feel small and out of place.

"It's Y/L/N Y/N, sir," you respond, your voice barely above a whisper. You hope the trembling in your hands isn’t too obvious as you place your fork down.

"Y/N, don't mind me asking," he continues, taking an elegant bite of scrambled eggs, swallowing, and then wiping his mouth with a handkerchief that probably costs more than the dress you’re wearing underneath. The dress, now drenched in sweat, clings uncomfortably to your skin. "Are you and my son dating by any chance?"

You nearly spit out your coffee, choking on the hot liquid. You’ve just met the man, and he’s already interrogating you, his eyes piercing through your façade. You resist the urge to scoff in his face, reminding yourself that you’re here to keep Heeseung out of trouble, not get him into more. "Sir—"

"We're just friends," Heeseung cuts you off hastily, his voice carrying a slight edge of desperation. You snap your head to look at him, his face a mix of determination and anxiety. It’s not like he’s lying; he’s practically saying what you were planning to. But why do those words leave you feeling so hollow, so disappointed? You try to decipher the look in his eyes, wondering if he feels the same sting of regret.

Yeah, you guys are friends—close friends even! So close that they kiss, make out, and sleep together. The memory of his lips on yours, the way his hands held you so tightly, flashes in your mind. The intimacy of the previous night now feels like a distant dream, overshadowed by the cold reality of Mr. Lee’s scrutiny.

"R-right, we're just friends. There's nothing to worry about," you stutter, still unsure of what you feel at that moment.

"Good," Mr. Lee smiles in satisfaction, his gaze cutting through you. "So, what brings you over so early on a Saturday morning?" His words are a thinly veiled attempt to humiliate you further, but you swallow your pride and respond calmly.

"Did Heeseung not tell you? We’re working on a project together," you say, trying to sound casual.

"Oh? What project, if you do not mind me asking?" Mr. Lee's voice is smooth, but his eyes remain cold and calculating.

"It's for a research project for a psychology presentation," Heeseung interjects quickly, cutting you off before you can respond. “Not like you care what I do in school anyway…” Heeseung’s voice is bitter, and you get the memo that his father probably doesn't know about him taking extra classes on music production over the weekends.

Mr. Lee clears his throat pointedly, a psychological tactic to reassert his dominance. You notice how Heeseung flinches, a small, involuntary movement that breaks your heart. The poor boy is scared shitless, and it infuriates you to think about how much emotional abuse he must have endured to flinch over a mere cough.

"I take it that you're in the same classes as my son?"

"That's right, I'm a senior majoring in psychology."

"If you're ever in a pinch looking for a job after graduating, there's an attachment program in my hospital just for fresh graduates like you, with no experience and connections," Mr. Lee comments. You know the intentions behind his words are far from genuine as you see the distinct flicker of power play in his eyes. And despite the jab affecting you more than you expected, you resist the urge to lash out.

In fact, you laugh in the face of humiliation. You won't show this self-conceited, power-tripping asshole that his words offended you because that would just be giving him what he was looking for—submission to power.

Mr. Lee seems to find it amusing that you aren't shivering in his presence, and that irritates him. "Well, do enlighten me about this research my son was talking about, Y/N." His striking gaze feels like it’s shooting lasers through you, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared. For fuck’s sake, you literally just found out about this apparent research project you were supposedly working on, and he wants you to 'enlighten' him?

But come to think about it, It's okay to be scared. It just means you're about to do something really, really brave.

"I would be more than happy to. Our area of research focuses mainly on coercive human behaviours," you smile at him, noticing a slight twitch in his eyes.

"Oh, is that so? What have you learnt so far?" Mr. Lee raises his eyebrows, feigning interest.

"That being a control freak is a weakness, not a strength," you start, noticing his facial expression hardening. "A famous psychologist once said, 'If you can't allow others to shine, you're exhibiting signs of narcissism and showing a lack of self-confidence.'"

"I personally think it's just isolation through ego," you shrug, turning to look at Heeseung. His eyes, which lost their sparkle ever since his father showed up, look at you with so much fondness and admiration that you swear you see the entire galaxy in them.

"I think that's all the time I have for today. Excuse me, for I am a busy man," Mr. Lee stands up from his seat a little too aggressively, and for the first time since you met him, he falters.

"Thank you for the wonderful meal, Mr. Lee," you calmly stand from your seat, reaching out your hand to him. He reluctantly takes it in his own, forcing a smile that almost makes you burst out in laughter.

"Thank you for the wonderful company and insightful conversation, Y/N."

"The pleasure is all mine," you reply, maintaining your composure even as he exits the room.

#3 - The Paradox

You sprawl over in your own bed, tangling up in your blanket as you recall the events of that Saturday morning. You must've been crazy, drugged even, to have had that much courage to stand up to his father like that. You, who couldn't even say 'no' to your own friends, lost your temper over something like that? It must've been a fever dream.

Except it wasn't, and you lie there in disbelief, cursing yourself for making such a bold decision. Maybe Heeseung was right—you really were an idiot. You think back about what made you so angry and every conclusion leads to one thing (or person, actually): Lee Heeseung.

You can't bear to see him so helpless and afraid in front of someone who is supposed to be his father. Someone who literally gave life to him was making him feel like he couldn't even be safe at home. It angers you and, thus, scares you because you care about him more than you ever realised. Because caring about someone means being vulnerable, and you've never been good at that.

You tell yourself that it didn't have to be Heeseung—that for anybody else in that same predicament, you would have acted and felt the same. You convince yourself that what happened was your guilty conscience talking, your sense of justice prevailing, or literally anything that fits the narrative. You fail to consider that, hey, maybe you do have a soft spot for him.

Sure, you care about the boy since he is someone you can lean on and be yourself around. So why does every thought about him lead back to you on his lap, hands on his chest, and his lips on your own?

Your fingers absentmindedly reach up, landing on your lips as you fondle them. You notice how chapped they are and mentally cringe at the possibility that they were in this condition when you and Heeseung made out.

There it is again—the sound of your heartbeat pounding vigorously against your chest. It was just a kiss. You've had plenty of those, so why is it that when it comes to Heeseung, you can't seem to get rid of that churning feeling in your stomach?

That feeling scares you. So, you avoid him.

Heeseung has texted you multiple times over the past few days, asking if you wanted to come over to continue with your project. You've exhausted almost every excuse possible to avoid doing so. Partially because you don't want to risk running into his father again, but mainly because you're running away from your feelings—feelings that you are already subconsciously aware of, just buried deep within you.

Each excuse you send feels more feeble than the last. "Got a lot of homework." "Feeling under the weather." "Have to help Chaewon with something." You know Heeseung isn't buying it, but he doesn't push. Each time, he responds with understanding, though you can almost sense the disappointment in his texts.

Every time your phone buzzes with a new message from him, your heart skips a beat. You can’t help but read his messages over and over, your mind replaying the scene in his room. You remember how his eyes softened when he looked at you, how his touch sent shivers down your spine.

The more you think about it, the more you realise that avoiding him isn't going to make these feelings disappear. It's not going to make your heart stop racing or your stomach stop fluttering. You can't keep pretending that what happened didn't matter.

I made a little room in my heart. You, who I can't forget, is standing there. I open that door, so that your voice that I long for calls me...

"Y/L/N Y/N!" The familiar voice jolts you back to reality, followed by a series of knocks at your front door. You frown, not expecting any visitors on a weekday evening. As far as you know, only Chaewon, Yunjin, Sakura, and your parents know where you live.

Dragging your feet to the door, you check the mini tablet and see Lee Heeseung standing on the other side. What the fuck? It comes back to you that Heeseung has walked you home plenty of times, some days even to your front door after you insisted that he didn't need to.

You mentally panic as you scrutinise your appearance in the full-length mirror by the door, grimacing at your musty attire and the messy bun your hair is tied up in. You look... awake at best.

"Y/N? I swear to God I heard something." Heeseung's voice echoes through the intercom, and the panicky feeling settles in even more. You think to yourself that he came all the way here to see you; you can't possibly leave him stranded outside like that. After another knock on your door, you give in, unlocking it and coming face-to-face with the very man you've been avoiding all week.

"About time," Heeseung smirks, catching a view of you in all your glory. You roll your eyes and step aside to let him into your humble abode.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

"To see you," he shrugs, as you look away, blushing. Not that it mattered anyway, since Heeseung is concentrating on taking his shoes off carefully to avoid creasing them.

"We see each other in school. You didn't have to come all the way here," you say, eyebrows raised, still unsure of his true motives. It wasn't unusual for you and Heeseung to be together in an enclosed space, just the two of you, but something feels different than before. An atmosphere that only started presenting itself after your shared kiss the other day.

"Yeah, but not when you're literally avoiding me," he replies, squinting his eyes at you. You mentally face-palm, realising he already knew what you were doing.

"I was not!"

"Sure, princess, anything you say." Your heart skips a beat at his new nickname for you, and you almost overlook the slight hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Though I would believe otherwise when you literally looked at me and turned the other way that day in the cafeteria."

"I didn't even see you... besides, I was rushing off to run an errand somewhere," you lie, though your alibi isn't solid enough to justify it. "So, you do remember what happened." He leans in close to you with a cheeky smile that you hadn't realised you missed over the few days you hadn't seen him.

"Gosh, you're intolerable," you mutter, putting a reasonable distance between Heeseung and yourself as you brisk-walk timidly over to your sofa.

"I know, you've told me that twenty-three times now," he says, genuinely surprising you that he was even keeping count of the things you say to him. Heeseung thinks to himself if he was always this attentive to detail or if it was just because of you.

You sit down on the sofa, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, trying to steady your racing thoughts. Heeseung follows, sitting beside you, his presence both comforting and nerve-wracking.

"Though I'm really here to see you, I would also like to remind you that there's a project of some sort due in two weeks," Heeseung smirks, and you playfully roll your eyes.

"I would have you know that I did not forget, which is why I've been working on the melody in my own free time. In fact, I was even singing it right before you so abruptly barged into my apartment."

"Barged?" Heeseung scoffs, picking up a pillow and throwing it at you, purposely aiming higher so it'd fly over your head. You laugh, feeling a warm sensation spreading from your chest to the rest of your body.

"Okay, rockstar, then show me what you got." He passes you a half-filled water bottle, presumably for you to use as a microphone. Heeseung wants you to sing, right now, in front of him?

"Hell no."

"Oh, come on, you do know we have to actually record it, right? I'll hear you sing sooner or later," he tries to convince you. To be honest, you still aren't very confident. You aren't tone-deaf, thankfully, but definitely not the best singer out there. The only other person you've ever sung to was your grandmother, and that was when you were ten years old.

"Fine," you huff. "You're not allowed to laugh though."

Heeseung cackles and nods to reassure you, which doesn't really help, but it's the intention that counts. You close your eyes and begin singing the lyrics to one of the verses you wrote the other day.

In this unstable world, when there was no place to stand. It held me from somewhere, that invisible touch. Once again I want your warm embrace, I'll go and find you...

The words flow out, surprisingly smoothly, the melody carrying them effortlessly. You lose yourself in the song for a moment, forgetting Heeseung is even there.

Heeseung once again finds all his senses bewitched by you; his eyes wander over your features as you sing, his nose drowning in the homely scent of you, and his ears captivated by the melancholic tone in your voice. He hears you sing for the first time, and it's almost angelic. As you had said, you're not the best singer, but that distinct sharpness in your voice makes it impossible for Heeseung to get it off his mind.

Heeseung finds himself reaching his hand out to you, unable to resist your magnetic pull as he you finish off the next line.

Your warm breath, dazzling smile. When I close my eyes, I feel you, I believe you...

You feel a warm touch rest upon your cheeks, and instinctively lean into it, seeking the comforting warmth in the approaching winter. Your eyes flutter open, wincing at the sudden waves of bright light that blur your vision. Gradually, as your sight clears, it focuses on one person alone, eclipsing everything else around you. Before you sits a masterpiece, captivating your attention entirely.

Heeseung finds himself ensnared in the stars of your eyes, momentarily delirious as he glimpses a whole other galaxy within them—a black hole drawing him closer to you. Then, amidst the cosmic symphony, he hears it—the mingling of your heartbeat with his own. His heart, accustomed to beating for himself, now beats for someone else, and it only takes a mere millisecond for him to realise he has fallen in love with you.

It also takes a mere millisecond for the image of his father to intrude upon his thoughts.

Heeseung insisted on driving you back to your apartment that day, but you were adamant about him staying. You didn't want him to get into any more trouble because of you. However, it never occurred to you that he might just have wanted to leave with you just to escape his father's presence.

As you bid him goodbye and walked off his front porch, his father's voice echoed from behind Heeseung in a low whisper, "Cut off contact after this project of yours. Don't disappoint me, son."

Heeseung withdrew his hand from your face in a panic, and you, seeking the warmth you had just lost, leaned forward in a futile attempt to recapture it.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you ask, concern lacing your voice as you notice tears streaming down Heeseung's face. He frantically hides his face in the sleeves of his sweater, seemingly trying to shield his vulnerability from you as he does not want you worrying.

Rightfully so, because you are worried. The last thing you expect when Heeseung shows up at your doorstep is to see him cry. Hell, you didn’t even know he had the ability to shed tears. Part of you wonders if you're somehow the cause of his tears, stirring up feelings of guilt within you.

"Was my singing so horrible that you burst into tears, Heeseung?" you try to lighten the mood with a joke, hoping to bring some comfort to the situation. You're relieved to hear a faint snort from behind his sweater paws, indicating that your attempt at humor isn't entirely lost on him. Still, you can't shake off the concern gnawing at you.

Instinctively, you reach out and grasp his wrist, delicately shifting aside his sweater to expose his tear-streaked face. His eyes are swollen, and his nose is red, the sight pulling at your heartstrings to witness him in such visible distress. "Didn't know you were such a crybaby," you say lightly, hoping to lighten the mood even more as you brush away a fresh tear that teeters on the edge of his cheek.

"You look like my bestie Rudolph!" you tease, lightly poking his nose. He scrunches it up, his lips forming a pout as he watches you caress his face, a hint of a smile breaking through his sadness.

"One might think you actually care for me," Heeseung murmurs, voicing his thoughts. You’re taken aback, the question echoing in your mind, both heart and mind answering: yes.

"If you know that already, then don't ever cry like this in front of me again," you say gently, your thumb tracing soothing circles on his cheeks. Your eyes search his face for any sign that he wants you to stop, but you find none. Instead, Heeseung leans in and plants a chaste peck on your lips, catching you by surprise. The warmth of his lips lingers, mingling with the salty taste of his tears. You purse your lips and cringe slightly, lightheartedly pushing him away as he laughs, the sound like music to your ears.

Heeseung, feeling an urgent need to be closer to you, grabs your legs and places them across his lap, positioning you to face him. The sudden movement startles you, but you quickly settle, bending your knees and leaning against them as you stare up at him. From this angle, you notice the sharpness of his nose, the slight stubble on his chin, and the way his eyes, now clear of tears, hold a depth of emotion that tugs at your heartstrings.

As you study his features, you’re overwhelmed by a rush of feelings. The boy who always seemed so strong and composed now looks at you with such raw vulnerability that it breaks and mends your heart simultaneously. Heeseung’s gaze is equally intense, his eyes exploring your face as if memorising every detail. He seems entranced, lost in your siren eyes as though he’s seeing you for the first time.

"Will you tell me why you suddenly cried now?" you ask softly, concern lacing your voice. A brief silence falls between you as Heeseung contemplates whether to come clean. You wait patiently, playing with the ring on his pinky finger, not wanting to push his boundaries if he isn’t ready to speak.

"Remember how I told you I have an older sister?" Heeseung begins, his gaze drifting past your eyes into a sea of nothingness. "Her name is Lee Hae-yi."

Heeseung giggles as he recalls details about his sister, and you look at him fondly. "She takes after our mother a lot. It's something I've always been envious of. Hae-yi, she's incredible. We had many similar interests growing up, and she was somehow always better than me at everything we did. She's my biggest role model. I'd give the entire world for her to be happy." His face brightens at the mention of his sister, and you find yourself envious of the sibling bond he has with her, wishing you had a sibling of your own.

"My father wants me to take over the company when he retires, but she’s the one that deserves it, not me. I have no intention of running the company, but he's very adamant about me being the one to do it." Heeseung sighs, tightening his grip on your hand. "Even though the entire family can see that my sister is the natural-born leader—it’s the only quality she takes after my father. But he refuses to leave it in her hands. He says a woman can never hold leadership positions or other misogynistic bullshit. So, my father sent her away to the States, told her to study there and someday prove herself to him."

"He was never going to give her a chance in the first place, and she knew it, but she went anyway..." Heeseung pauses, and your eyes shoot up when you hear him sniffle. "She left because of me. Now I can't go on another day knowing she probably hates me for taking her spot that she worked her entire life for." A lone tear escapes the crevices of his eye, and you reach up to swipe it away, your palm resting on his face as he leans into your warmth.

"My father has a reputation to uphold, and I am naturally a part of that reputation. He expects me to be the perfect son, even if it's pretentious. I became the person I am and do the things I do as an act of defiance. I didn't want to feel like he had full control over me," Heeseung smiles solemnly, finally making eye contact with you after fully exposing every detail about himself and his story. It hits you that the things you knew about him were only surface-level problems and that they actually ran much deeper than just Jake.

"Don't you ever just want to stop everything and be free?" you ask foolishly. Heeseung giggles at your innocence, unknowingly breaking your heart a little more.

"Of course I do, but I won’t suffer the consequences alone. To my father, his career comes first, and everything else falls in line after."

"Even family?" you ask, incredulous. Heeseung nods, and your lips part, wanting to say something, but you decide against it and return to listening attentively.

"That man would do anything to defend what's important to him, even if it means hurting his own blood. I can't—won't—allow the people I care about to suffer because of my actions, even if it means playing a pawn in his little game." Heeseung caresses your hand, drawing circles in the centre of your palm. You grin and push the hair covering his eyes away from his face, noting the softness of his hair and the way it falls perfectly even when dishevelled.

"Thank you, Heeseung, for telling me this," you say, your voice filled with sincerity. Although you want to argue that he should fight for his freedom and not live for the sake of others, you can't bring yourself to tell him that, because you are doing the exact same thing.

"No, thank you for listening, Y/N.”

"Well, if running a company isn't your forté, what do you actually want to do?" you ask, hoping to take his mind off his very pressing situation. You watch him closely, noticing the way his expression shifts to one of even deeper regret.

"I think you already have some sort of an idea," he replies, managing a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I want to be a singer-songwriter."

"That surprisingly kind of suits you, Mr. Idol," you laugh, reaching out to pinch his cheeks. He puffs them up, making you lose your grip, and you can't help but smile at his playful defiance. Leaning down, he gently pushes you back onto the sofa, his hand supporting the small of your back as he towers over you. Your hair sprawls over the cushion beneath you as you look up at him, your breathing becoming uneven from the sudden closeness.

As you gaze into his eyes, you feel an undeniable connection. Everything the two of you do feels so natural; from the hand-holding to the hugging to the kissing even. It's as if you two are actually dating, but you aren't. It feels almost too perfect, too seamless. That alone feels wrong, how it comes so naturally even though you have no labels.

You close your eyes, expecting your lips to meet his again, but instead, you feel his warm lips gently press against your forehead. The unexpected tenderness makes your heart swell, and when your eyes flutter open, you see his own staring back at you with an intensity that takes your breath away. He gazes at you as if you are the most precious thing in the world, and it sends shivers down your spine.

You giggle softly as he snuggles into your neck, his hand wrapping around your waist protectively. You make space for him on the couch, allowing him to fit perfectly beside you. With your face buried in his chest, his chin resting on top of your head, and his arms wrapped securely around your small frame, you feel a profound sense of peace wash over you. His warmth seeps into your skin, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you finally feel safe.

One question constantly replays itself in your mind as you slowly drift off into a deep slumber. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear is both soothing and grounding. In the hushed quiet of the room, you whisper, "What are we?"

The question hangs in the air, laden with all the emotions and uncertainties you've been grappling with. You feel his arms tighten around you, a silent promise of protection and something more. As you drift into sleep, the thought lingers, a beacon of hope and a source of fear all at once.

That morning, as you gradually awaken to the muted light filtering through your window, you're met with an emptiness beside you that's both physical and emotional. The warmth lingering in the vacant space beside you feels like a cruel reminder of Heeseung's absence, and it weighs heavily on your heart. The realisation that he left without a word of farewell hits you like a punch to the gut, leaving you disheartened and bewildered.

Before you have a chance to fully process his departure, the bright rays of the morning sun illuminate your living room, casting warm hues across the space. The sudden awareness of the time jolts you into action, and you curse under your breath at the realisation that you're running late for class.

"Curse you, Lee Heeseung," you groan, quickly ripping the blanket covering your body away and scrambling to your feet, feeling lightheaded from the sudden movement.

"Good morning, sunshine," your head instantly whips around at the familiar voice you were longing for just a few seconds again, momentarily taken aback before relief floods your senses.

"I thought you left," you murmur, the words tinged with a mixture of hurt and longing, though you try to keep your tone neutral. He smirks, sensing the disappointment in your voice. Oh, how you wish you could rip that sweet sweet smile off his face..

"Why? Were you disappointed because you thought I left?" Heeseung's teasing tone irks you, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. His smirk only serves to deepen your irritation, fueling a desire to push back against his playful demeanour.

"Jerk," you grumble and Heeseung laughs, finding your sulking expression adorable.

"Who's the crybaby now, huh?" Heeseung's playful jab catches you off guard, eliciting a scoff as you feign nonchalance.

"I'm not even crying, idiot," you retort, a mixture of amusement and exasperation colouring your words as you shoot him a playful glare. Heeseung giggles and carefully pulls you into a warm embrace, as if you’re a piece of fragile glass, afraid that even the slightest pressure might make you crumble.

It’s official—You and Heeseung are in a situationship. If someone were to ask you how it feels to have something you wanted so badly just within reach yet still fail to grasp it, you'd tell them it feels absolutely shitty.

It bothers you how he doesn't seem to mind that your relationship has no label, yet he still initiates things that only couples do. You're conflicted; your heart tells you one thing, but your mind tells you another, and you can't seem to decide which feeling to follow. The only thing you're certain of is that you want to be by his side.

It's a tangled web of emotions, one that Heeseung and you are both ensnared in. He knows it's complicated. He'd be a liar if he said he didn't want to be with you, close to you. But that courage to stand up against his father seems to evade him every time he tries to grasp it. Every time Heeseung closes his eyes, attempting to convince himself to fight for what he wants, his father's image intrudes his thoughts, and he’s back at square one all over again. It’s an endless cycle he can’t break out of. So, instead of making promises he knows damn well he can’t keep, he keeps you close to him under the guise of a research project that is only going to last a mere week.

As promised to his father, after one week, you'll be gone from his life, and vice versa. It's for the best, or at least that's what Heeseung has convinced himself of, that one week is all he needs to psycho himself into believing he doesn't need you; like the two of you never even met.

Except you did, and now you know each other's deepest, darkest secrets. But he knows you wouldn’t tell a soul, and likewise for himself. Then again, Heeseung is making all these decisions on his own, assuming that you’d be perfectly okay with it when the time comes around.

The ambiguity of your relationship with Heeseung leaves you grappling with questions that have no easy answers. As you try to make sense of it all, you can't help but wonder if he's aware of the turmoil brewing within you.

It's a silent struggle, one that you keep hidden beneath a façade of normalcy. It's almost funny how when you thought he didn't stay, you were hurt; when you realised he didn't actually leave, you were still hurt because you knew deep down that you couldn't hold onto him forever. Yet, amidst the confusion, there's a glimmer of hope, a fleeting sense of connection that keeps drawing you back to him, despite the looming deadline that threatens to tear you apart.

Saturday arrives, and for once, you find yourself declining your friends' invitation to attend the weekly parties. They're disappointed sure, but you reassure yourself that missing one party won't be detrimental to anyone. Chaewon did notice your frequent moments of distraction and introspection, behaviours she's never observed in you before. You brush off her concerns, attributing your preoccupation to stress over upcoming projects and submission deadlines. After all, it's your final semester.

Sunghoon also picks up on your behavioural changes, especially when you're around Heeseung. To him, you appear shy, like a kindergarten kid experiencing their first crush. However, he knows you well enough to anticipate that you'd argue otherwise if he were to express his observations.

Meanwhile, you find yourself spending most of your time in Heeseung's bedroom, working on a song that holds no academic value. You vaguely remember how you were dreading even thinking about this project and just wanting to get it over with, hell, you were even willing to turn in a nursery rhyme if the situation calls for it. With that thought, you chuckle to yourself as you sit in your usual spot on Heeseung’s bed, enveloped in the familiar scent of Teakwood and cigarettes lingering in the sweater that embraced you.

"Thoughts about singing the last chorus together?" Heeseung skillfully tucks the pencil he was just using behind his ear as he swivels around on his chair from his table to face you.

"You sure about that? I'm afraid I might outshine you." You comically brush your loose hair and shoot him a smirk, prompting him to jokingly roll his eyes back at you. "Is that so, Ms. Mariah Carey?"

"On a serious note, I really think singing the last chorus makes the song sound, I don't know... more desperate?"

"I see your point. Though I would hate to ruin the climax of the song with my horrendous singing, if Mr. Future K-pop Star says so, I have to do it." You smirk again when Heeseung scoffs before breaking out into small fits of laughter—laughter that sounds like music to your ears. "I can't take you seriously." He swivels back to face the computer displaying the music editing software. Your song is in its final stages of production before you and Heeseung can go ahead and record the demo, and it's one demo away before Heeseung has to completely cut you out of his life as promised.

The mere thought of letting go fills his heart with unease and uncertainty, crossing his mind during the day or even right before he falls asleep. Every fibre of his being resists the notion of parting ways, as if holding on tighter could somehow freeze time and preserve the precious connection you share.

In the quiet depths of his heart, Heeseung finds himself surreptitiously gazing at you, consumed by an overwhelming affection while struggling with the bittersweet truth that letting go may be an inevitable choice, but one he's not yet ready to make.

The universe is a paradox. Some might believe that even though a person eventually dies, your relationship with them doesn't, as it will live on forever, never changing. However, the truth about forever? It doesn't exist. Nothing lasts forever. Not you, your feelings, your relationships, the sun, the moon, or even the galaxies. Although forever has no meaning when one is living in the moment, and you, for one, aren't ready for that moment to end.

At the end of the day, the absolute truth is that all this shit about 'nothing lasts forever' is just an excuse for both of your lack of courage and commitment because those who truly want to be together find a way to make it happen.

In an inconspicuous outbuilding situated in the family's backyard, the hallways are unusually clean yet dark. Heeseung explains that the building is being used as sleeping quarters for the housemaids, which explains the customised doors that line the halls. He also mentions it's the only part of the house where he could actually build a recording studio without his father finding out.

You step into the recording booth, the air humming with anticipation as the padded walls cocoon you in a world of sound. With a pair of headphones hugging your ears, you feel the rhythm pulsate through your veins, while the microphone stands tall, poised to capture every nuance of your voice. The word 'nervous' is more than an understatement for what you're feeling at the moment as you watch Heeseung's every move on the other side of the tempered glass. It's endearing to say the least, watching the boy thrive in his element, right where he belongs.

You jump a little as you hear his voice coming out from the speakers in the booth, "You ready?" You find Heeseung looking at you with confidence, maybe more than you have for yourself. You feel the pressure, and Heeseung knows that the only thing he can do is show you that he believes in you. Heeseung is right because something about his unspoken trust assures you, even gives you that little boost of self-confidence you need as you sing your lines in the first verse.

Tears filled with regrets flow unconsciously. I wish I could follow to wherever and flow somewhere. In that warm sunlight, I want to let myself go, so that I can meet you...

Almost on instinct, Heeseung leans in, captivated by every word that leaves your lips, his gaze fixed upon you as your melodic voice fills the room. Every note, every accentuation, every lyric, is delicately captured by his ears as if he's savouring a rare delicacy.

At that moment, the world around him fades into a distant murmur, leaving only the desperate purity of your singing. He listens not only with his ears but with his heart, appreciating the beauty of your voice and the story it conveys. His face reflects a mixture of awe and admiration, mirroring the emotions woven into each line you sing.

The room is filled with an unspoken connection, a shared language that transcends words. In this tender exchange of sound, Heeseung embraces your vulnerability, your strength, and the extraordinary power you have over him.

You're one star, that's your name

You finish off the last line of the song before realising you had your eyes closed the entire time. Turning to look at Heeseung, who has an unfathomable expression on his face, you know singing wasn't your forte, but it couldn't have been so bad to the point he looked like he was about to cry. "So... did I do okay?" The sound of your voice brings Heeseung back from whatever futile thoughts he had running through his head, focusing on the present—on you.

"You were amazing, princess," Heeseung says, and you blush upon hearing the nickname he gave you. Although it isn't the first time, you still feel light-headed whenever he uses it. "I'll take whatever compliment I can get," you comment, and he smiles lightly to himself, replaying the recording so you can hear it for yourself. Heeseung was right; you weren't half-bad after all.

After re-recording some parts and unwillingly adding in adlibs as per Heeseung's request, this time you find yourself in the producer's seat while Heeseung stands behind the microphone, which he had to readjust to fit his height. It's no surprise that he manages to record everything in such a short period of time with very minimal mistakes. Once again, you catch a glimpse of the Heeseung who can do anything if he puts his heart and mind into it.

This is your first time recording a song, and you're pretty sure it shouldn't be this easy. You were mentally preparing yourself for the insults that he would throw at you. However, considering this is just for a mere ungraded school project, you think maybe that's why Heeseung isn't picking on every little flaw like he would any other project. Then again, the Heeseung you know is a perfectionist, so being able to leave the recording studio unscathed is a mystery for not only you but also Heeseung himself.

"I can't believe we actually finished this song," you remark as you stroll alongside Heeseung in the hallway, a slight spring in your steps. Heeseung grins, carefully matching his pace with yours, still attentively listening to your speech of accomplishment.

"The night is still young. I say we take our celebrations to the party at Sunoo’s. You could finally meet my friends so they can stop having this false perception of you. What do you think?" You turn on your heels to face him, half-expecting an excited expression on his face, so you are taken aback when a lone tear falls past his cheek.

"Heeseung-ah..." Without a second thought, you pull him into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry, I said that without thinking. We don't have to go. Let's stay in and watch a movie instead, hm?" Heeseung shakes his head beside you, and you pull away just enough to catch sight of his face. "No, I'm not crying because of that, don't worry."

"Then what is it about?"

"I'm just... happy, that's all."

"You're so precious, you know that?" You hold his face between your cold hands as you stare into his eyes, neither of you willing to look away first. You lean in and gently kiss the freshly escaped teardrop as if the essence of sorrow itself had been distilled into this tiny, tasteable form. "This is the second time I caught you crying, that's twice more than me." He giggles as he gently grabs your hands into the palm of his own. "Let's go."

"Great! I have this movie I really wanted to-"

"No, Y/N, let's go meet your friends."

With a heavy heart and a bittersweet urgency, Heeseung embraces the knowledge that your time together is drawing to a close. The impending separation looms, but he clings to a precious sliver of time, determined to make it count, even if it means sacrificing everything to see you smile one last time.

You give Heeseung the address to Sunoo’s place and tell him to meet you in front of his house. Standing outside in your off-shoulder top, you take yet another glance at your watch—10 minutes past your agreed meeting time. Anxiety creeps in, mingling with the chilly night air, as you wonder if he'll show up or if this was a mistake.

You come to a consensus that you should've known better than to convince Heeseung to go partying with you after everything he did to hide that fact from everyone. Guilt gnaws at you, knowing you may have pushed him out of his comfort zone, and you wouldn’t even blame him if he decided to bail on you.

You text Chaewon, asking her where they are so you can go ahead and look for them, but you receive no response. You figure she's probably having too much fun to pay attention to her phone.

Freezing and desperate for a glass of alcohol to numb your nerves, you make your way into the house. Inside, it pulses with energy as vibrant music fills the air, its rhythmic beats reverberating through the packed living room. Colourful lights flash and dance across the room, casting an enchanting glow on the eclectic crowd that has gathered for a night of revelry. The dance floor is a sea of motion, a kaleidoscope of bodies writhing to the infectious tunes, and you make a mental note not to lose yourself in the bustling crowd this evening.

Approaching the open bar, you pour yourself a cup of beer to kick off the night. The cool liquid soothes your parched throat, offering a momentary reprieve from the chaos around you. It's ironic, really, now that you think about it, because no matter how hard you try to escape or manifest excuses out of thin air, you always end up back here with a beer in hand, willingly or not.

As much as you've convinced yourself that you certainly weren't made for the nightlife, you can't deny that you stand out amidst the sea of people. Maybe sometimes, you actually do have fun, more than you'd let yourself believe.

As you take a sip from your cup, you feel a hand on your lower back, causing you to almost jerk forward. "Hey baby, you here alone?" Turning around, you find a young man in a button-up shirt that accentuates his physique. The strong smell of alcohol emanating from him indicates that he's already quite drunk, even though it's barely 8 PM.

"I'm actually here with some friends, thanks for asking," you respond politely, trying to maintain composure despite the uncomfortable situation. However, your patience wears thin as you feel him inching closer. "Can't a lady have her personal space?" you retort, your tone growing irritated as you notice his offensive scrutiny of your attire.

But he brushes off your discomfort, continuing to leer at you. "Come on, don't act like you hate it. You're basically asking for it, I mean look at this dress..." His words trail off as he shamelessly scrutinises your appearance, his hand still firmly planted on your back. Feeling increasingly uneasy, you shift uncomfortably under his gaze, and he takes advantage of your vulnerability by leaning in closer, his breath uncomfortably close to your ear.

You despise how some men automatically assume they're entitled to your attention or affection, simply because of how you're dressed. You know that physically fighting back would likely escalate the situation, especially since he appears much stronger than you. Not wanting to cause a scene in the bar, you consider threatening to call the police as a last resort.

Before you can take action, however, a sudden commotion erupts nearby, and the man is forcibly pulled away from you. Relief washes over you as you realise that someone has intervened, sparing you from further discomfort.

"She has a boyfriend." Your head snaps to the source of the voice, finding Heeseung glaring daggers at the man.

"Heeseung," you call out softly. He turns to you, searching your eyes for any sign of disapproval. When he finds none, he breathes a sigh of relief.

"Should have known it was too good to be true," the man mutters, ruffling his hair in clear frustration. You can't help but laugh, realising you're probably just one of many attempts he's made tonight. Heeseung walks up beside you at the bar, pouring a drink before turning to you.

"Didn't think I'd show up?" he asks, noticing the stunned expression on your face. You nod, still watching him, grateful for his intervention.

"So you're my boyfriend now?" you smirk, taking another sip from your cup to mask the fluttering feeling in your chest. Heeseung laughs, a bit embarrassed, and takes a sip from his own drink.

"Why? You like the sound of that?" he teases.

It's almost comical. You wouldn't take crap from any other man, not even Sunghoon or Jay, but you’d let this man openly tease you about your ongoing situationship. Yet, you willingly succumb yourself to the fluttering feeling in your chest.

"You don't?" you retort boldly. Your response catches Heeseung off guard, and he nearly chokes on his drink. As you laugh at his reaction, you notice a fleeting look of panic and sorrow on his face. The thought that he does like the idea of being your boyfriend crosses his mind, only dampened by the reality that this might be his last chance to be this close to you.

You're about to push the joke even further when a familiar voice calls out. "Y/N!" You turn to see Chaewon and Sakura making their way towards you from the corner where your friends are gathered. Their overjoyed expressions slowly morph into confusion as they notice Heeseung standing beside you.

You wonder why Chaewon and Sakura seem so confused—it’s not like they didn't know you were hanging around Heeseung. Then, as you really take in his appearance for the first time that night, you realise he’s dressed up for the occasion. He’s wearing a black graphic tee with a blazer thrown on haphazardly, his hair carefully parted down the centre, and his iconic round glasses are gone, no longer perched on his nose. This is the Lee Heeseung you first noticed at that club all those months back.

It slowly hits you: this is the first time your friends are seeing him outside of his usual nerdy persona.

"Lee?" Chaewon questions, eyebrows furrowed as she wraps her hand around Sakura's arm, nudging her. Heeseung smiles awkwardly and gives you a knowing look, silently asking you to act like you forced him to come (which, technically, you did).

"Chaewon, Sakura. I don’t think you two have officially met. This is Lee Heeseung." Chaewon subtly tilts her head, clearly puzzled as to why the academy's top student is at a frat party on a Saturday evening. "I wanted to have some fun after finishing our project, so I dragged him here," you explain hastily, hoping neither of them notices the little white lie.

"Wow, you really dressed him up nicely," Sakura remarks, her backhanded compliment making you roll your eyes as you quietly mouth curses at her.

"Come on, let’s introduce you to the gang," Chaewon cuts in just before the atmosphere turns awkward, and you mentally thank her for being the angel she is.

You sense Heeseung stiffen beside you, so you take his hand to reassure him that your friends are nice. Not that he doubted their kindness; he just doubted they’d want him there. However, he did say he'd come to meet your friends, so he doesn't resist.

With eager anticipation, you lead him into the heart of your cherished social circle, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as your two worlds collide. You can't help but steal glances at Heeseung, who seems to be taking in everything with cautious curiosity. Your friends, too, look intrigued, if not a bit taken aback, by his transformation.

It’s awkward at first, but after some drinks and a few icebreakers, Heeseung starts to warm up to your friends, and vice versa. Yunjin, in particular, gets more comfortable with him than you’d like. Knowing her, it’s probably her attempt at flirting with Heeseung now that he’s the hot guy at the party everyone wants a piece of. You don’t expect any better from Yunjin, but Heeseung? He gladly reciprocates her flirtatious attempts, even black knight drinks for her whenever she loses one of your drinking games.

You’ve been sending Heeseung death glares, which he’d notice if only he spared you a glance or two in the last fifteen minutes. The word 'jealousy' is an understatement at this point. But then again, why would you be jealous? It’s not like the two of you are dating. But you did get close to him first. You know his little secret, you slept on his bed, heck, you even made out with him. You, not Yunjin, not Chaewon, not Sakura, and certainly not Jay or Sunghoon. So why are you getting the least attention from him among everyone else?

Frustrated, you pull out your phone and send him a piece of your mind. His phone vibrates on the table, but he doesn’t notice it. Pettily, you kick him in the shin under the table, and he lets out a yelp. You signal to his phone, and he checks it, smirking when he sees the content.

Heeseung excuses himself first, and you follow a few minutes later, claiming you’re going to get more drinks for everyone. Your friends are already past the boundary between sober and drunk, and they probably don’t even hear you. If they do, they’re too intoxicated to process it in their heads fast enough before you leave.

You squeeze yourself between the messy tango of people in the house until you reach the base of the staircase. Upstairs has fewer people, though most of them are likely looking for an empty room to complete their seven minutes in heaven with a stranger they just met. You find Heeseung leaning against the ledge overlooking the ground floor, and you just stand and admire him in all his glory until he finally notices you.

“Took you long enough,” Heeseung teases, reaching a hand out for you to hold, and you do just that. He pulls you in closer, spinning you around against the ledge so you’re now trapped between it and him. His arms press against either side of you, leaving you with nowhere to run, not that you would if given the chance.

“Never knew The Y/L/N Y/N could get jealous so easily. I must have overestimated you.” He leans in, and you can smell the vivid scent of alcohol mixed with cigarettes edged onto the fabric of his clothes.

“I told you, I’m not jealous.” You roll your eyes, trying to mask the fact that he’s hit the nail on the head.

“Oh, really?” Heeseung’s voice is a low murmur, his breath warm against your ear. “Then why were you glaring at me like that?”

“I just didn’t like seeing Yunjin all over you,” you admit, your voice softer than you intended. The truth slips out before you can stop it, and you feel a rush of vulnerability.

Heeseung chuckles, a sound that vibrates through you. “Well, I’m sorry that you felt like I wasn’t giving you enough attention. You have it all now.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you look up at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. But all you see is the same boy who has become so important to you, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and affection.

“You’re impossible,” you mumble, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He shifts his hands to hold you firmly on your sides, not breaking eye contact for a second. “Am I holding on to you like you’re precious now?” You mentally cringe at yourself for having sent him that text. Not wanting to give him that satisfaction, you purposely ignore the question.

Heeseung smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “My precious princess,” he murmurs, closing the distance between you. His lips capture yours in a kiss that’s both gentle and passionate, and you feel yourself melting into him.

In that moment, the noise of the party fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world. And as Heeseung’s arms wrap around you, holding you close, you come to terms with the feeling that yes you do, you feel precious.

#4 - The Fallout

The night ends in a blur of emotions and stolen moments, the memory of Heeseung’s kiss lingering on your lips as you part ways. Heeseung walks you to your door, his hand lingering on yours before he finally lets go, promising to text you later. You watch him disappear into the night, a warm feeling settling in your chest despite the cold air.

But Heeseung’s warmth is replaced by a chilling reality when he arrives home. The house is dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the party. Heeseung tiptoes through the hallway, trying to avoid waking anyone, but the creak of a floorboard betrays him.

“Lee Heeseung.”

The voice is cold and sharp, freezing Heeseung in his tracks. He turns to see his father standing at the top of the stairs, the dim light casting a shadow over his face. His father’s stern expression is enough to drain any remaining warmth from Heeseung’s veins.

“Where have you been?” His father’s voice is controlled, but Heeseung can hear the underlying anger.

“I was just out with some friends,” Heeseung replies, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Don’t lie to me,” his father snaps, descending the stairs with heavy, deliberate steps. “I got a call from Mr Kim. His son showed him pictures of you at a party posted all over the academy’s forum.”

Heeseung’s heart sinks. Mr Kim, a family friend and strict disciplinarian. The old man's disapproval was well-known, and Heeseung’s father always took his word seriously. He must have been tipped off by his own children studying at the academy, and in true fashion, news spread like wildfire, especially among the elites. The anxiety gnaws at him as he imagines Mr. Kim's stern face, the way his father’s expression will harden with disappointment. Heeseung’s mind races, trying to find a way to mitigate the fallout.

“Father, I—”

Before he can finish, his father’s hand strikes him across the face, the force of the blow sending him stumbling back. The sharp sting spreads across his cheek, but it’s the look of disappointment in his father’s eyes that hurts the most.

“You disgrace this family,” his father seethes. “Sneaking out to drink and party like some delinquent. You’re throwing away everything we’ve worked for.”

Heeseung tries to speak, to defend himself, but his father’s next blow catches him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Heeseung doubles over, gasping for breath, his vision blurring with tears. He doesn’t dare fight back; he knows it will only make things worse.

“You think you can just do whatever you want?” His father’s voice is a harsh whisper, filled with venom. “You’re nothing without this family, without me.”

Another punch lands on Heeseung’s shoulder, and he crumples to the floor, curling into himself in a futile attempt to shield his body from the blows. Each hit is a reminder of his place, of the expectations he’s failed to meet.

The beating continues, each strike heavier than the last, until finally, his father steps back, breathing heavily. Heeseung remains on the floor, pain radiating through his body, tears mixing with the blood from his split lip.

“Get to your room,” his father orders, voice cold. “And don’t think about leaving this house again without my permission.”

Heeseung drags himself up, each movement sending fresh waves of pain through him. He stumbles to his room, collapsing onto his bed. The darkness of his room feels like a refuge, but it’s not enough to keep the tears from falling.

Heeseung curls into himself, clutching his phone to his chest. He wants to call you, to hear your voice, to find some comfort in your presence, but he knows he can’t. The risk is too great. Instead, he texts you a simple goodnight, hoping you’ll understand the unspoken plea for solace.

As the pain in his body slowly dulls, the emotional scars feel even deeper. Heeseung closes his eyes, wishing for sleep to take him away from the reality of his life. But even in his dreams, he can’t escape the feeling of his father’s disappointment, a weight that crushes him more than any physical blow ever could.

A whole week passes by since that night at Sunoo’s, and you wonder if the universe is playing another game with you. You no longer run into Heeseung in the hallway or find him huddled up reading in a corner of the library. It’s strange. Not only have you not seen him, but he also hasn’t texted you back. He always texts you back.

You even consider finding him at his mansion, but now that your project is done and dusted, you no longer have a reason to show up at his front door without looking like a clingy girlfriend—who isn’t his girlfriend. There is also the issue with his father; you don’t want to risk running into that man more than you need to.

Surely something must’ve happened for him to blatantly ignore you. You’re not even going to convince yourself otherwise, because nobody just suddenly goes radio silent on someone. You think back to that night, wondering what could’ve possibly gone wrong. Was it the kiss? Did you come off too possessive in your text messages? Or was it the fact you guilt-tripped him into attending the party with you, and his face ended up everywhere on the Decelis T?

Yes, you’ve seen the posts. You’ve seen the way people talk about you and Heeseung. Frankly speaking, you couldn’t care less. This isn’t your first rodeo with what the people in this school have to say about you. You’re used to it. What you hate to see are the posts about Heeseung, about how you ruined his bright future. And you can’t help but think that what these trolls are saying holds some truth.

The whispers in the hallways, the stares, and the snide remarks—they don’t bother you. But the thought that Heeseung might be suffering because of you does. You remember the way he had held you at the party, the way he had looked at you with such warmth and affection. It seems impossible that he would just abandon you without a word.

You decide to visit the library one more time, hoping against hope that you might find him there. The library is almost empty, the silence broken only by the soft rustling of pages and the occasional whisper. You scan the room, but there’s no sign of him.

Defeated, you sit down at one of the tables, your mind racing with a thousand questions. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your messages with Heeseung, rereading them in search of any clue you might have missed. Each unanswered text feels like a weight on your chest, a reminder of the distance growing between you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden ping from your phone. You glance down, heart leaping with hope, only to see a message from Chaewon. She’s asking if you want to grab lunch, but you can’t muster the energy to respond. All you can think about is Heeseung and why he’s disappeared from your life so abruptly.

With a sigh, you put your phone away and rest your head on your arms, feeling a mixture of frustration and sadness. The library’s quiet atmosphere does little to soothe your troubled mind. As you sit there, your mind in a whirlwind of confusion and concern, you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up to see Jake walking past you, a book in hand and a frown on his face. Relief washes over you at the sight of a familiar face.

"Jake," you call out, standing up. The boy seems surprised that you even knew his name, given that you barely talked to him.

"Have you seen Heeseung? I haven't heard from him all week."

Jake's frown deepens. "No, I haven't seen him. I thought he was just busy with you. Looks like you don’t know where he’s been either.” You sense some animosity in his words, but you try not to focus too much on it.

“What do you mean busy with me?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“That’s what everyone’s been saying. Lee Heeseung sleeping around with the campus slut.” You’re taken aback by his words, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting, especially on an open wound.

“Okay, ouch? What did I even do to you?” Your voice comes out more defensive than you wanted it to, and Jake isn’t dumb enough to not notice it.

“You’re one to talk,” he mutters, now just pushing at the tiny bits of patience you had left after all the shit you’ve endured this entire week.

Jake hesitates, then sighs. "He told me he was going to stay out of trouble and focus on his studies, but it seems like he lied. He’s been sneaking off to parties, thanks to the likes of you. Who knows? He’s probably grounded right now because of that.”

Your anger flares, and you take a step closer to Jake. "You think this is all my fault? That I'm some kind of bad influence on Heeseung? Do you even know what he’s going through? He needed an escape, Jake. He needed friends to support him, not judge him."

Jake crosses his arms, still looking skeptical. "Support? By dragging him to parties and getting him in trouble?"

"Support by being there for him when he feels suffocated by his father and this school!" you snap. "You don’t know half of what Heeseung’s dealing with. You think he’s lying to you, but maybe he just didn’t want to burden you with his problems."

Jake's expression softens slightly, but he still looks unconvinced. "I just thought he was focusing on his future. Now it seems like he’s throwing it all away."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Jake, Heeseung is trying to balance everything. He’s not perfect, and he’s going to make mistakes. But he needs his friends now more than ever. You don’t get to be disappointed in him without even trying to understand."

“And what makes you think you understand him? Y/N, you knew him barely for a quarter of the time I did. If there’s anything, he would’ve told me by now.” Jake snaps, his voice rising and attracting the attention of every nearby patron.

“I don’t think I understand him, Jake. I know I understand him, more than you ever will. Because if you really understood him, you’d know he never wanted to be tied down by all these expectations from you or his father. If you really cared about Heeseung, you wouldn’t be here arguing with me about what’s best for him, because who are you to decide that for him? You should be showing up, reaching out to him now more than ever, but you’re not.” You say your last piece with conviction, each word laden with frustration and a hint of desperation.

Jake is stunned, his face paling as he absorbs your words. You can tell by the way he’s disassociating, his eyes glazing over and his expression becoming distant, that some part of what you said hit him hard.

The library is now uncomfortably silent, the eyes of the other patrons heavy on you both. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, your hands trembling slightly from the intensity of the confrontation. But Jake doesn’t say anything, just stands there, his mind clearly racing.

You take a step back, the anger and adrenaline starting to ebb away, replaced by a gnawing worry for Heeseung. "I’m going to find him, Jake. With or without your help," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm. With your new resolve, you leave Jake standing still in the middle of the library, the gears in his head turning as he tries to recall all the times Heeseung was ever out of character, even for just a second.

Then it strikes him. All those times Jake showed up at Heeseung’s house over the holidays, he was somehow never home. His clothes always had a hint of cigarettes, but Jake was never too sure because Heeseung would attempt to drown out the smell with his cologne. Then there was that one time over winter break when Heeseung drunk-texted him one evening, but when Jake confronted him about it the next morning, Heeseung claimed he was at a company event with his father and had drunk to entertain the guests. All of it sounded perfectly reasonable to Jake at the time.

Jake’s mind races, piecing together the fragments of inconsistencies. Is Heeseung not who he seems to be? This realisation hits Jake like a ton of bricks. He’s been blind, perhaps too caught up in his own expectations to notice his friend’s struggles. And like the theorist he is, Jake is determined to find out the truth.

The conversation ends, and the conviction in Jake’s messages gives Heeseung a strength he didn’t know he had. Heeseung recalls a particular conversation he had with you, about how if Jake truly cares for him, he’d appreciate his honesty. And you weren’t wrong, because Heeseung and Jake come out of this with a brotherhood stronger than ever. It’s like you knew this would happen.

Then again, you always give the best advice and always know what to say to reassure him. You know him like the back of your hand, reading his thoughts like the cover of a book, which convinces Heeseung even further that if you aren’t soulmates, no other words can describe the connection you two hold. And it’s because you two are soulmates that the universe decides it’s finally time to piece the two of you together so that neither of you has to continue pretending to be someone you’re not.

But no, you’re not soulmates. What you have isn’t because of some cosmic design. Heeseung willed this. He willed you to come into his life; he willed you to show up at that club all those months back to catch him in the act; he willed you to be the one he can be himself around. He intricately weaved the threads of fate himself until they spelt your name. And right now, your name, Y/N, is like a mantra in his head, echoing itself over and over again until he sees you in the flesh, until he feels your presence in his vicinity. That mantra is the only thing driving his decision.

That night, Heeseung sneaks out of his mansion. He moves quietly, making sure not to alert anyone, especially his father. His heart pounds in his chest, each beat a mixture of fear and excitement. Every creak of the floorboards seems amplified in the stillness of the house, and he holds his breath, praying no one hears. Heeseung has never felt so alive, the adrenaline surging through his veins as he edges closer to freedom.

The cool night air greets him as he slips out the back door, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of his home. The stars above seem to twinkle with approval, as if they too support his decision. Heeseung pulls his jacket tighter around him, not just for warmth but for comfort, as he heads towards your apartment. Each step is a step towards reclaiming his life, towards taking control of his own destiny.

As he walks through the quiet streets, memories of you flood his mind. He thinks of your smile, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love, the sound of your laughter. The thought of seeing you again, of being in your presence, propels him forward. Heeseung’s heart swells with a mixture of longing and determination. This is what he wants. This is what he needs.

Heeseung finally arrives at your apartment building, his pulse quickening. He takes a moment to gather himself, taking deep breaths to steady his racing heart. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, but he knows he has to do this. For himself. For you.

He approaches your door, his hand trembling slightly as he raises it to knock. The sound echoes softly in the hallway, and he waits, his breath caught in his throat.

When you open the door, the sight of you takes Heeseung’s breath away. You look surprised, but there’s a warmth in your eyes that reassures him. For a moment, neither of you speaks.

“Heeseung,” you finally say, your voice soft but filled with concern and relief. “Where have you been? I was worried sick!” You hit him softly on his chest, and Heeseung smiles, the familiar gesture a balm to his frayed nerves.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Y/N. But I really needed to see you,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with regret.

“You think you can just disappear whenever it’s convenient and come back when you want to see me? What if I want to see you? Have you ever thought about that? Selfish jerk.” You fight back the tears threatening to fall. Part of you is angry that Heeseung is doing whatever he pleases, but another part of you wants to just forget the pain and longing you’ve been experiencing the past week and crash into his arms. It’s sickening, the power he has over you.

“I was wrong, princess. I won’t disappear again. Not anymore.”

You step aside, allowing him to enter. The familiar scent of your apartment wraps around him like a comforting embrace. The tension that has been gripping him for days begins to ebb away, replaced by a sense of belonging and peace. He realises now, more than ever, how much he’s missed you, how much he needs you.

You both stand there for a moment, the silence filled with unspoken words and emotions. Heeseung reaches out and gently takes your hand, his touch sending a reassuring warmth through you. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N. I didn’t realise how much until I couldn’t see you.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his for sincerity. “Promise me you won’t shut me out again.”

Heeseung pulls you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you securely. “I promise, Y/N. I won’t shut you out. You mean too much to me.”

As you stand there, enveloped in his embrace, you can feel the tension in your own body slowly melting away. You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Each thump is a reminder that he’s here, that he cares, that he won’t leave you again. You take a deep breath, savouring the moment.

You open your eyes, and the two of you just look at each other, a silent understanding passing between you. You smile, your heart full, and you know that this time, his promise will be kept.

You have no clue what happened to him the past week, you don’t know what stunts he had to pull in order to get to you today and have you in his arms. To be frank, you aren’t looking forward to finding out. The cuts on his face and the bruises on his arms tell you plenty—more than you need, really. You didn’t comment on it when you first saw it, not wanting to bring up anything that caused him pain. When he’s ready, he’ll tell you what happened on his own.

You draw back slightly to look at him, your fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin is warm under your touch, and his eyes hold a mixture of relief, regret, and deep affection. He leans into your touch, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. You take his hand and guide him to the couch, where you sit close together, the familiarity of your surroundings adding to the comfort of the moment.

You spent almost an hour talking about everything but nothing at the same time, it's like every time Heeseung felt he was ready to talk, he backs out and veers off into another topic instead. He shares about his reconciliation with Jake, how your advice about honesty proved true, and his regret over not being upfront sooner. He mentions the newfound attention he's received since the party at Sunoo's, people sliding into his DMs, but it all seems like a distraction from what he really wants to share.

You can see the struggle in his eyes, the weight of unspoken words on his mind. Without needing to say much, you place your hand gently on his, a silent assurance that you're here, you understand, and he can take his time. “Hey, slow down yeah? Heeseung, there’s no rush to tell me everything right now. I’ll be here whenever.” You say gently, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

In the depths of human nature, is an obsessive desire for logical explanations that make sense. However, there’s no explanation logical enough for how you just always seem to know your way around his emotions, because the gesture works almost immediately in calming his nerves.

Heeseung takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on your joined hands. His fingers intertwine with yours, and you can feel the tension in his grip. It’s a silent signal that he’s ready to share what’s been weighing on his mind.

“Remember, you don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready.”

“No, I need to tell you. You deserve to know.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “That night at Sunoo’s, everything was fine until I got home. My father was waiting for me. Someone probably sent him the pictures from the party, the ones all over the Decelis T. He was furious.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue. The anguish in his voice is palpable, and it breaks your heart to see him like this.

“He was so angry. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain. He just kept yelling about how I was ruining everything, how I was throwing away my future. And then…” Heeseung’s voice falters, and he swallows hard. “Then he hit me. Over and over.”

Your heart clenches, and you feel a surge of protective anger. “Heeseung…” you whisper, your voice trembling. You reach out, gently tracing the bruises on his arms with your fingertips. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he did that to you.”

Heeseung’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “I tried to stand up for myself, Y/N. I really did. But it only made things worse. He said I was a disgrace, that I wasn’t living up to the family name. He threatened to cut me off completely if I didn’t get my act together.”

You’re in fury by this point, because how could anyone possibly expect you sit still and listen when someone you care about is being hurt by someone who is suppose to shelter him with love and hope. This anger is mixed with sadness when you realise this is probably a frequent occurrence for him.

“You don’t deserve any of this. You’re amazing, Heeseung. Don’t let him make you believe otherwise.”

Heeseung takes a shaky breath, his grip on your hand tightening. “After that, Jake called me, and he helped me realise that I need to fight for my own life. That I can’t keep living under my father’s thumb. That’s when I decided to sneak out and come here. I needed to see you. You’re the one thing that keeps me grounded, that makes me feel like I can be myself.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you pull him into a tight embrace. “We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

Heeseung holds you close, his voice filled with a mix of relief and determination. "Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you." His words, though fitting for the occasion, hit you more deeply than you expect. You feel his heartbeat against your chest, each thump echoing the sincerity of his words. The realisation that he is relying on you as much as you are on him sinks in. You understand that the only thing keeping both of you sane, preventing you from becoming the versions of yourselves that others expect, is each other.

That night, you make the bold decision to invite Heeseung to stay over, considering it’s already well past midnight. As if sneaking out wasn't difficult enough, Heeseung assumes sneaking back in before dawn and before anyone realises he’s gone missing wouldn’t be too much of a challenge. Without even thinking twice, Heeseung accepts your offer, a mixture of relief that for a night, at least, he doesn’t have to feel trapped in the confines of his makeshift prison.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t fully thought this through. You live in a studio apartment, and with your queen-size bed spilling into your so called living room, there’s no privacy. You two are essentially sharing the same space. The room feels suddenly smaller, the proximity more intimate than ever before.

Noticing Heeseung’s fading bruises, you almost offer to take the couch so he can sleep comfortably on the bed. However, you know he’d likely reject your offer anyway so you didn’t even try. As you rack your brain trying to find a solution that works for both of you, Heeseung speaks up.

“We can just share the bed.” He shrugs, his expression stoic as if he hadn’t just spout the most out of pocket thing ever. Speechless, you stare at him, eyebrows raised, trying to form a coherent sentence that won’t embarrass you.

"Uhm..."

“What? Your bed is huge; I’m pretty sure we could both fit on there.” You can’t tell if he’s playing innocent, being naive, or if his dad knocked some sense out of him, but the shamelessness is almost baffling.

You won't lie and say the idea didn't cross your mind at some point, but the thought of sleeping next to Heeseung, especially now that you’ve come to terms with your feelings for him, seems like an impossible task. You’re afraid your heartbeat will vibrate across the mattress, and he’ll hear it and question you. The mere thought brings heat to your face, your pulse quickening at the proximity.

“Oh I see, you’re shy. Come on, it’s not like it’ll be the first time we’re sleeping together anyway.” He says, referring to the night the two of you made out and you accidentally fell asleep on his bed.

“Don’t phrase it like that, gosh. And that time was an accident.” You puff your cheeks, willing the heat to cool down but to no avail. The memory of that night, the closeness, and the vulnerability, floods back, making your heart race.

“You’re the one making this weird; it’s literally just sleeping. Not like we’re going to have sex or anything.” He giggles. You’re taken aback by the statement, and more so by his little giggle that accompanied it. How can he laugh in this situation when you’re as panicked as it is?

“Okay, now you’re just being annoying.” You turn your back towards him, rolling your eyes in feigned annoyance, though honestly, it only makes you feel more embarrassed for reacting the way you did.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. If it makes you comfortable, I’ll take the couch.” His voice softens, sensing your discomfort, but his eyes hold a plea, a silent wish to stay close.

“What? No! You’re injured; you should be getting plenty of quality rest.” You insist, your concern for him outweighing your own embarrassment. The sight of his bruises, the fatigue in his eyes, tugs at your heartstrings.

“And let you take the couch? Don’t even try.” He shakes his head, his determination clear. His gaze is steady, filled with a mixture of stubbornness and affection.

“Fine. We’ll share the bed, but you’ll stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine. No. Funny. Business.” You say firmly, trying to set boundaries, but the warmth in his eyes makes your resolve waver. The idea of sharing a bed with him, feeling his presence so close, is both thrilling and terrifying.

As you both settle into bed, the silence is filled with the soft rustling of sheets and the distant hum of the city outside. The mattress dips under his weight, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body and hear the steady rhythm of his breathing.

The room is dark, but the glow from the streetlights outside casts a soft light across his face. He looks peaceful, and for a moment, you just watch him, your heart swelling with emotions too complex to name.

Heeseung turns to face you, and you immediately turn away, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. You lie stoically on your bed, looking up at the ceiling, afraid to move a single muscle as you sense his gaze on you.

A few minutes pass, and you still feel his eyes on you. You suspect Heeseung himself doesn’t even realise he’s been staring at you unwittinglyaa as. You feel the tension between you hit a new high, the silence growing heavier with each passing second that you feel the creeping need to dig a hole right where you are and hide inside it. The elephant in the room is big, way too fucking big, and you finally decide to address it.

“There’s something else we need to talk about,” you say, finally turning your body to face him. His eyes meet yours in the dim light. You can barely make out the expressions on his face, but you can tell from the sudden shift in his body language that his guard is up at your proclamation.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice soft yet tinged with apprehension.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts and courage. “This… situation between us. What are we doing, Heeseung?”

Heeseung’s eyes flicker with uncertainty, and he looks down at his hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” he admits. “I don’t want to mess this up, whatever it is.”

You feel a pang of vulnerability, a raw honesty hanging in the air. Before you can say anything else, Heeseung speaks up, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with intensity. “I like you, a lot actually. If it wasn’t already obvious enough, I like you, Y/N.” You can tell it took him a lot of courage to confess this to you.

Before you even got the chance to reciprocate his feelings, he stops you, wanting you to finish listening to what he has to say before he can bring himself to hear your answer. So you let him.

“I know our situation is really unconventional, and that it’ll be situationally better for both of us if I stayed away from you. That’s how I initially planned to keep you safe. But something about you, its like a drug; I just keep wanting more. Every minute, every second of every fucking day I’m just thinking about you. I want to know what you’re doing, who you’re with. I want to punch every single person who has nothing good to say about you. I want to feel you, I want to hug you, god, I want to kiss you so bad.”

He pauses, his eyes locking onto yours. “I realised how much you mean to me when I no longer try to force myself to sleep, trying to dream of something that'll numb my pain just a little. Instead, I can't sleep thinking about you because, for the first time, my reality is finally better than any dream. This, whatever we have, is real, and it’s the only thing that makes sense in my life right now. But every time I close my eyes thinking about you, I’m just reminded of the fact that I can’t have you and treat you the way you deserve.”

“You can have me, Heeseung,” you say, your voice filled with determination and emotion.

“You know what I mean, Y/N. I mean just look at the state I’m in. If my father can do this to his own blood, I don’t see why he wouldn’t do worse to you. I can’t have that.”

You reach out and gently touch his face, your fingers tracing the bruises and cuts. “Heeseung, I don’t care about the risks. I care about you. I want to be with you, no matter what.”

Heeseung looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear, hope, and love. He leans into your touch, his hand covering yours. “I don’t want to lose you, Y/N.”

“You won’t,” you promise, your voice steady and sure. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Heeseung’s eyes soften, and he leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Those words again. The phrase, "I don’t know what I’d do without you," to you isn’t mindless appreciation but a genuine confession. In your fucked-up realities, you are each other’s only salvation where he doesn’t have to shed any part of himself to feel connected with you. You see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way he looks at you with a mixture of hope and desperation. It’s a look that tells you he needs you as much as you need him.

With that realisation, you know you are ready to be the person who loves him, no matter how imperfect he is. This is no easy feat, because it is easy to love someone when they’re perfect. But loving someone when they are wearing their flaws like an apology, when nobody else tries to really know them and accept them for who they are—that is what truly makes a difference. You think back to all the moments when he was vulnerable, when he let down his guard and showed you the parts of himself that he kept hidden from the world. Those are the moments that made you fall in love with him, not despite his flaws, but because of them.

You smile, your heart swelling with love as you reply to his sentiment, “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

Heeseung’s arms tighten around you, and you can feel the tension in his body slowly melting away. His shoulders, once rigid with stress and fear, relax against you. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint smell of cigarettes, is comforting and familiar. You realise that this is where you both belong, in each other’s arms, facing whatever comes your way together.

Heeseung’s fingers gently brush against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, and your eyes flutter closed as his lips meet yours in a tender, lingering kiss.

When you finally pull away, Heeseung’s forehead rests against yours, his fingers tangled in your hair. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, to make this work.” You nod, tears welling up in your eyes.

Funny, isn’t it, how you started insisting he stayed on his side of the bed, and now you’re wrapped in his arms with barely any space between your bodies. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, his breath against your neck. His eyes meet yours, and you see a depth of emotion there that takes your breath away. It’s a look of pure, unfiltered love and gratitude. You know that this moment, this connection, is what you’ve both been searching for.

It’s the kind of love that makes you feel alive.

That makes you feel whole.

That makes you feel like you.

masterlist | part two

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wannabepoeticischiya · 2 months ago

Text

if I can stop one heart from breaking

[ 06 ] — the breaking dawn

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He existed in the morning dew, in the afternoon haze, within the illusions of twilight. He was there. In the silence of midnight, in the wake of dawn... he was there.

Hoshina Soushiro was everywhere... except right here. He existed in every corner of the cosmos-just not in the space beside her.

Hoshina Soushiro deemed himself a man riddled with patience to last a lifetime. He was not quick to anger; others believed him to be kind, and he was. He was kind beyond rhyme and reason. Soushiro was patient above symphony and sense. Many times has he been given reasons to waver, to quit, to give it all up—yet here he remained.

In this place littered with cold, heavy words of repudiation, he existed. Alone, embraced by words of false belief, pitied by the eyes of his own blood. Here, living in the shadows of his elder brother, shackled by all the things that he didn’t have, broken by the visions that he wished he did.

A lone star amidst infinite darkness, he burned.

Without an ally, without a friend. He lived in this place shrouded in everlasting midnight, left to stand and watch as the heavenly bodies drifted further and further away from him. Out of reach, never to be seen.

When he gazed beyond those boundaries, past every possibility, every expectation, all the words the universe had to offer—the scenery stayed the same: empty, devoid of life, restrained by despair.

Then out of the darkness came a flicker of fire.

Small at a passing glance but when he blinked, rays of the break of dawn came shining down on him. Streams of light flooded his every waking thought, scattering the haze to give way to the sea of blue overhead.

And right there, smiling in the center of it all… was her.

Hoshina never really made much of the feelings of others, nor did he hold his at a higher regard. But it didn’t merit that he was ignorant of the way others would look at him: some in admiration, in envy, while the very concerning ones were the hungry stares—as though they planned to lock him up in their basement never to see the light of day again.

If he had to be blunt, he could care less. In this world, there was only one destination, one goal. Nothing else mattered so long as he reached the place that held everything he could have ever wanted. Even if the road had to be plunged in darkness, decorated in shards, littered in ravines—he would push through; stop at nothing.

Yet, for the first time in this long journey he treaded, he saw something at the crossroads. Standing in the middle of it all, cradled under the waking sunlight… someone was there.

She looked at him, frozen—like she could hardly believe he was there. That after waiting for so long, their paths had finally met, and there was no other road left to take but the one laid before them.

Soushiro was never one to spare a glance at people who looked at him with such fervent longing. How could he afford to do so when there was so much left for him to achieve?

But he stepped closer to where she stood and mirrored the gaze she had so shamelessly given him.

One drowning in the depths of familiarity, it’s you… it’s going to be you. Dispersing all the colors of the universe because beyond them… nothing mattered. Remnants of exhaustion evaporating at the sight of one another.

Finally, after so long… I’m home.

Why should he deny her? When she was the only one his soul had so painfully longed for.

Every tug towards the next step existed for this every moment.

Maybe that was the reason why nothing seemed to work out before… because she was here, waiting for him in the future.

Domed by an eternal blue sky, the autumn skies descended to give way to the coming of winter. Vermillion grounds were blanketed in mist that when the sun would peek over the drifting clouds, the grass would shimmer in a thousand lights, as though they gifted the lands precious stones. The trees lost their foliage leaving their branches to reach for the sky in hopes for comfort, no longer were there gales of vermillion and amber.

Soushiro gazed at the empty engawa.

Because right now, there was no sunshine.

In the space she used to occupy for herself, there was no her.

He spared a glance at the old clock hanging at the end of the hallway. The measured sounds it emitted felt like mockery; that for every rotation, the days grew darker and the nights dragged on, the mellowness faded and the cold settled.

[Name] felt so far away.

Soushiro got so used to hearing her laughter from the far end of the corridor, seeing her in every open window, the scent of daylight that trailed behind her everywhere she went. The smiles she’d send his way, looks she’s stolen when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, the touch of her fingers, whispers of her voice. All that she was had been engraved in the space she inhabited for less than two full moons.

And he yearned for them to return to him.

He reveled in her presence so much that he forgot the days when he was nothing more than a stranger to her.

“Soushiro-sensei… she just went home for the holidays. You don’t have to act like she left you forever.” Shin groaned in frustration at his teacher’s gloomy attitude, shifting from one foot to another. The young boy’s legs were shaking from fatigue from how long they were ominously standing in front of the room [Name] had once occupied.

It felt strange to the young Hoshina as well. Not so long ago, laughter would echo in these halls, and everything would look a shade brighter. Now, it was gone. The room was as cold as the forthcoming of winter.

Perhaps he too, had gotten used to the warmth that would radiate from her quarters whenever he’d pass by.

“I ought to give ya another lap for that comment, Shin.”

Soushiro slid the doors shut, turning to face and stare down his student. Carved on his lips was the usual teasing smile, eyes forming two crescent moons.

“No! No more!” Shin raised his hands to cover his face, shoulders tensing at the hint of having to run in the cold. He reckons he’d collapse from hypothermia before even reaching half the grounds.

Soushiro laughed at the young boy’s reaction, reaching a hand to ruffle the threads perched atop Shin’s head. “I’m just teasin’ ya!”

“Man, you really take after her, so easy to rile up!” He grinned at the thought of her, feeling his heart swell at her reminder.

“Don’t be so hard on him, Soushiro.” She’d nudge him for the hundred time that day as she sat comfortably on the engawa, waiting for her servants to fix the rest of her belongings, not minding the lack of haste in their movements.

[Name] had etched her soul in this small room. Her carvings ran so deep that Soushiro wasn’t so sure what he’d see when she no longer existed in this space.

“He’s just a kid.” She would say then her stare drifted from the gardens only to land on him, and he’d note that there was not a single speck of anything else but adoration in her irises. “You gotta let him be one.”

Soushiro vaguely recalls the cease of the clatter before silence blanketed the area around them.

He’d see the way her lips moved animatedly as she nagged her heart out on what he should and should not do around kids. Her arms would flail wildly as she tried to emphasize her point, then her eyebrows furrowed, and she’d lean in closer before snapping her fingers in front of his face to see if he was still listening.

“Really?” She’d sigh exasperatedly, fed up with his behavior. And right at that moment, her breath would stutter, just like it always did when she breathed out, and his name would fall short of a syllable. “Hiro—” she would say, unaware that her little habit had Soushiro over the moon with joy, “Pay attention!”

“I am paying attention.” He’d protest whilst smiling at her, not even bothering to hide his adoration. But he knew well enough that he was far too preoccupied mapping her very being into his soul to process the words she freed into the wind.

“Yeah? What was I saying just now?” [Name] crossed her arms and glared, daring him to say the words that would cause the hole he dug for himself to reach deeper levels.

“Uh… that I should treat Shin more kindly?” He offered, displaying his palms for her to see—like it would print his sincerity on his skin. But [Name] did not cease her piercing stare, and he knew right then and there, he was done for.

Her quietness was deafening, Soushiro remembers hearing his own heartbeat drum from the confines of his ribs. Her cozy mellowness morphing into raging fire.

She was so adorable, he would think. But so scary…

Soushiro knew he was at fault. Because whenever it was [Name] in front of him, everything blurs into nothingness. There was no color, no sound—nothing existed… except for her.

He bridged the gap between them, hovering the pads of his fingers over her forearms before they stopped right above her hands.

The swordsman would take a quick glance at her face, to scout for any signs of protest—a rejection—a sign for him to cease his ministrations.

But the sight that greeted him was the sulking face of his lover. Her eyes found anything worthy of her attention so long as it was not his face. Lips shifted into a scowl.

How cute, he would think.

Yet Soushiro knew well enough that she waited for him to shower her with his affection, or, at the very least, say he was sorry for deliberately ignoring her.

He laughed, resting his head on hers as he engulfed her hands with his much larger ones, carved in callouses but held her with so much affection.

“My lady [Name]~” He cooed, nuzzling his cheek on her hairline. His heart was racing so fast, thudding so loudly in the caves of his ears—he was no longer sure if was just his alone. “I’m sorry,” he would say, moving away ever so slightly to look her in the eye, knowing he meant every word.

“You can tell me now; you have all of me.”

“Sensei!”

A harsh shake caused the memory to shatter, its remnants disappearing along with his smile, free-flowing towards the horizons—carried by the winter zephyrs.

“What is it, Shin?” He acknowledges absentmindedly, still hung up on what the rest of the memory had to offer.

Soushiro felt a tug at the seams of his sleeve, dragging his attention away from the closed screens.

The older Hoshina witnessed the way his student’s face morphed from shock to fear, like he had just seen a ghost. Shin’s hold on his clothing tightened upon hearing the footfalls of someone come closer to where they stood.

“Soushiro.”

At the mention of his name, the hairs on the back of his neck rose to full alert. The flow of his blood turned cold as ice. And his lungs ceased to breathe the air he needed.

“Shin, training is done for the day.” He said through gritted teeth. Soushiro gently pried the young boy’s deathly grip open, “You’re dismissed.”

Shin, with great hesitance, relented his hold on his teacher. He kept his gaze on the floor, frightened of the sight that would greet his eyes should he raise them even just an inch higher.

However, his vision did not miss the stark difference of their hands: the ones that fell aimlessly to his side—the hands that shook with fear.

And the ones that used to pat his head so kindly, correct his stance and the grip on his blade with endless patience, ones that had bandaged his cuts and tended to his bruises, had now curled into fists, trembling in wild aggravation—primed to hurt somebody at the earliest call for it.

With worried eyes, Shin glanced at his teacher’s pensive face. He found it so bizarre. At the plain mention of his name from the man at the end of the hall, his entire demeanor changed.

If it was Lady [Name] calling for him, he would burst a thousand shades of crimson and fumble for his words, and even after that, he would still struggle to look her in the eye during the moments when she’d catch him off guard.

But right now, Shin wouldn’t pry, no—not when the man he respected the most looked like what he did three full moons ago. Irritated. Angry. Jaded.

So, Shin moved a few paces back and bowed respectfully to his teacher. Giving him the acknowledgement he so rarely gets but deserved more than anybody else.

Soushiro waited until the falls of his student’s steps dulled into quietness. When he was sure he wouldn’t fall witness to what was about to transpire, he turned to face the person standing a few feet away from him, face devoid of any traces of emotion.

“Brother.”

He was the same as he recalled. Ashen hair that faded to amethyst, narrow eyes that were a replica of his own, the same condescending welcome he gave him with what little he actually returned to this place.

“Don’t be like that, Soushiro.” Sure, his brother said it like he was offended, as though there should have been more to their dynamic than bitter resentment, but in truth, Hoshina Soichiro rejoiced in the ire he evoked from the violet-haired swordsman.

Soichiro’s glove was cold when they patted his shoulder, acting like it was anything but unwelcome.

Soushiro bit back his harsh remarks at the sight before him: his brother could not even be bothered to change from his uniform to something more appropriate—say a yukata for instance.

Here, they were governed by the commandments of both their ancestors and their father, held above all else. The laws of the defense force would fall null the second they step foot on the grounds of the Hoshina Clan.

If Soichiro had time to prance around him like a child then surely, he could spare a single second to obey the rules of the family.

“Why are you here?” Soushiro crossed his arms over his chest, staring coldly at his brother who disregarded his hostility and smiled like it was a reward for those who’d see.

“Just dropping by for some things.” His older brother shifted in his stance and rested one hand on his hip, letting his eyes wander on the barren corridors.

Soichiro’s observant gaze didn’t miss the stagnancy of the person before him. Soushiro stayed put, right in front of the doorway like he had done it a hundred times, and he would do so a thousand more if he was given the chance.

“Are you waiting for someone? That room is unoccupied, you know.” He pointed out.

“I do, not that it would be right for you to assume given that you never return here. And it’s none of your business.” Soushiro was quick to shut down any attempts of the older Hoshina at small talk.

He wanted to make it clear that he wasn’t just about to forget what he did all those years ago. How could he? When his words pummeled him to the ground, pushed to the brink of throwing it all away.

Soushiro wasn’t one to hold grudges, or so he liked to believe. But the sight of his elder brother was nauseating.

“Ouch.” Soichiro mocked, putting a hand over his chest, above the area where his heart should be, yet his tone betrayed the meaning of his actions.

Because he was everything he could only dream of becoming.

“You talk big for someone who has no skill.” Soichiro crossed the distance between them, sneering at the sight of his younger brother.

Soushiro felt small under his scornful gaze.

And all of a sudden, he was six and scared all over again. Left in the rain to practice until his knees would give out on him. Running behind the person who did nothing but leave tacks in his wake. Back to the days when one word from the person he looked up to would be enough to shatter his dreams.

Soichiro knew that. He knew that he was everything Soushiro wanted to be. That his opinion would matter, and he would take to heart the things he would say. A single sentence would have plunged his world into anarchy. He knew that.

Even still… he said it.

“You’ll never be good enough, Soushiro.”

“Don’t you get that?” And Soichiro would push his shoulder, and he’d fall to the ground. The mud would stain his clothes, feeling the raindrops as it mixed with his tears.

Only this time, he did not fall, and he did not cry.

Soushiro looks at him in hatred, hands shuddering from the crushing weight of anger he kept dragging for so long.

But the shackles broke, clattering loudly as they fell to the ground. And a breath later, Soushiro’s fist was raised to hit his brother.

Soichiro was quick enough to counter the hit with his palm, encasing the heated hand with his fingers.

“Still the same as ever, little brother.” He chuckles, tightening his grip as he feels Soushiro force his hand, desperate to make contact with his face. “Can’t control your emotions. Can’t think before you act. Can’t keep anything in check. You think you can survive out there as you are?” The older Hoshina scoffs, straining his muscles to flick Soushiro’s hand away.

The violet-haired swordsman faltered in his stance, stepping sideways from the sudden force.

Soushiro knew what would come next. Even if his eyes were downcast, and his hair shadowed his vision, he heard those words plenty of times to know that they would still hurt, no matter what.

He heard the same footsteps draw nearer. He felt the same hand pull at the back of his clothes. And he met the same eyes that never looked at him with anything but contempt.

“Give up. You’ll die before you even come close to the kaiju.”

Soushiro felt inferior. His brother treated him like a child. Looked down on him as if he’d never be capable of being more.

And he hated that.

More than anything else, he hated that Soichiro could have been anything, but he still chose to be the one who hurt him. To crush his dreams into a million pieces. To put him behind an invisible wall.

Soushiro hated that Hoshina Soichiro was everything but an older brother.

Family… family doesn’t hurt you just because they feel like it. They don’t ask for irrational things, and they don’t back you into a corner with no way to escape.

He glared at Soichiro under the curtains of his hair, stamping a foot to regain his balance. This is the last time you’ll treat me like this, he swore to himself.

Soushiro snatched the hand that pushed him down and flung it away. He watched as Soichiro looked at him in shock, like he anticipated every outcome but the one happening right in front of him.

Crimson irises burned through the older Hoshina. He reveled in his older brother’s momentary surprise, mapping out the face of the one who tormented the years of his childhood. Never again will you look down on me.

Soushiro lunged at Soichiro.

They should be the ones to bring you comfort, cover you in a sense of safety—like nothing’s gonna be able to hurt you as long as they’re with you.

Grabbing him by the collar and lifting him from the ground. Pure, unbridled rage powering him. Finally, after so long… Soushiro is the one with the upper hand. He had the golden child of the family in a chokehold. One move was enough to end it all. Retribution for all the things he loved that were crushed like insects under his foot.

“You know no one will be waiting for you there, right?” She held his face in the palm of her hands, caging him between their warmth.

And he could only stare at her, frozen.

Why was it now that he remembers her so clearly? The contours of her skin, the glimmer in her eyes, the fondness of her touch…

How could she look at him like that?

“We can’t go back in time to change what’s already been written.” The pads of her thumbs rubbed the distance under his eyes, brushing over his nose every now and then. “Though if it were up to me, I'd want to pitch in a request for us to meet earlier.”

How could she sit there and make it seem as though he was everything this world had to offer? Like she could wake at the ungodly hours of the morn, trace the outlines of his lips with hers, and she’d have done enough even before daylight painted the lands.

“If I held onto every little thing I left behind me, I’d have no room for you here in the present or anywhere else in tomorrow.” She rested her cheek on the curve of his shoulders and intertwined her hands with his.

“I’d rather have forgotten all those than live a life devoid of you.”

Soushiro stared at the fabric crumpled under the weight of his hold, threads of obsidian and silver lining the clothing worn by the soldier.

And once more, he met the stare of his older brother: trembling in fear. Funnily enough, this was the most he had seen from him. It was always discouragement with him, and if not that then there was nothing at all.

Soushiro’s impulsive intention of ending Soichiro’s life fades into nothingness.

All at once, the sensation of cold leather covering his knuckles flooded his being. And he was privy to the urgency rippling in the older Hoshina’s narrow eyes.

What would you make of me if I had taken his life?

Soushiro let his grip weaken, letting his brother’s agitated form fall into a heap on the floor.

Would you still look at me like that? Will you still allow me to be near you? Or would I have to live a life… deprived of you?

He drew in a breath, letting the oxygen lull his senses—ease his tense muscles. Slowly, one by one, the blood flowed freely from his wrist to the tips of his fingers. No longer were the peaks of his knuckles painted white, crumbling until they merged with the plains of his hand.

It was difficult to welcome someone who had done nothing worthy of forgiveness.

He is family, or so others would say.

He’s still your brother.

But it would not erase what he had done.

In reality, it only made things worse.

Wouldn’t it hurt more because it was Soichiro who had done it?

Their words left Soushiro thinking, how could you have done that to me… when I am also your brother.

Everything Soushiro did, he had done it out of admiration for him. Because he loved and respected the person who paved the way. But his adoration was met with discouragement.

The back of his brother, which once shone like a star, had now turned into a wall that caged him from the outside world.

Looking back on it, the young him really was deprived of luck.

He was free to dream, but every hope he stacked upon each other was knocked down. Unrestrained by the cruelty of this world yet shackled by the words spoken to him. He pushed through, even if the people around him did everything in their power to hold him back.

He thought anything would be possible.

So, he prayed to every star, to every god that he knew that his brother would change. That Soichiro would treat him kindly—like an older brother would. Every meteor that grazed the sky and set alight the night in streaks of fire, he’d catch them all. Every birthday wish. Eleven elevens of the clock. All so Soichiro would say that his dreams were important, too. That he could achieve them, and he’d be there to support him.

Ignorantly did he believe that if he wished for it eagerly and hopefully enough, the universe would move the stars to make it so.

Sometimes it did… but many more times did it stay stagnant; waiting for everything to burn into oblivion.

You’re not gonna hurt me anymore, brother.

Soushiro stared at Soichiro before he pivoted on his heel and walked away.

The falls of his step echoed in the halls, passing through every chip in the wood until they reached the ears of the man sitting with his leg propped up, his elbow resting on it.

“Father wants you to meet with the Uehara head in my place.”

Everything fell silent. All that remained in that small space were the two brothers: one who was starting to learn that nothing awaited him here aside from wrath and ruin, and the other, ridden in guilt for all he had done.

“See to it that you arrive on time, Soushiro.” But to Soichiro, guilt was not enough to rid of the roots of envy that ran deep. “You’re enough of a failure as you are. Don’t need to add tardiness to the list.”

To Soushiro, his brother was never going to be strong enough to slay the monster of arrogance that reigned over his heart. He was foolish for ever believing that he would be capable of change, even after a thousand chances… Soichiro remained on the other side.

He was tired.

With that, his steps continued forward leaving the older Hoshina on the cold floor.

The stillness remained after his younger brother’s departure. It draped over him like a cape, rested on his head like a crown. Soichiro was king to a soulless kingdom. And his people would continue to shy away from him so long as his vainglory was set first before everything else.

He sighed, biting the inside of his cheek. His head wilted like a flower, whether it be in shame or in exhaustion.

Once more, he stole a glance at the place his brother had once occupied.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or his conscience finally had enough. But for a moment, in the place of that tall swordsman was a much smaller kid. His eyes shone in delight, and he’d approach him with eagerness, wanting to be showered in praise. His practice sword was taller than him and he wore a big smile, even if his face was smudged with dirt and one of his front teeth was missing—he was happy all the same.

But when Soichiro blinked, both figures were gone. One disappearing at the end of the hallway and the other, down the depths of memory lane.

---

[Name] had been staring blankly at the distance for the past hour. Her head leaned to rest on the peak of her left shoulder; hands planted firmly behind her, supporting the weight of her body.

An eerie silence blanketed the grounds. The trees had their branches reaching for the azure heavens, grey clouds painting shadows over the earth. Melodies of the winds and the whispers of cicadas had dulled to a faint hum.

Normally, she would have been elated at the stillness of it all; basked in the generous offer of the universe. Yet… why did it all feel so foreign?

Since when did the embrace of her four walls become so cold? That her every waking moment felt empty, or that every turn around the corner was dreadful. The gardens that once shone in everlasting luster were shaded in banality.

[Name] could not help but put the weight of her home on a pan, desperately looking for the one thing that would balance the scales. To what extent did her luxury here fall short of what she had in a stranger’s house?

She was given meals the same way: brought to her room and taken back to the kitchens when she had her fill; saved from the dreary emptiness of the cold dining table that was far too large for one girl. The seconds of her twenty-four hours were spent sitting by the engawa, nothing but her shadow keeping her company. Walking the halls was pointless. All the rooms were mirrors of one another. Monotonous. Cold. Empty.

Servants behaved the same way. They were distant—indifferent to her attempts at friendship, fearful of the punishment that would befall them should the elders convene.

“Hey.”

The calculated falls of footsteps resonated in the room, bouncing off the vacancy that littered the space she had slowly begun to love. Luminescence from the fluorescent light situated over their heads painted his shadow in compressed strokes, dyeing the valleys of his eyes with pools of ebony.

[Name] felt her heart swell at the sound of his voice. Even more so when he placed himself in front of her, carrying his own tray of supper.

“I heard a pretty lady was holed up in her room eating dinner alone.” He began merging the dishes he had brought with the ones she had already placed, “can’t let that happen~”

Soushiro beamed at her, pressing his hands together proclaiming his gratitude for the meal.

“You like those yellow things, right? Saw you lookin’ at some earlier when I passed the kitchen.” The swordsman rummaged through the insides of his yukata, brows furrowing in concentration as he tried to pat for whatever it was that he had crammed into his clothing.

Now that [Name] had a good look at him, she noticed the little bumps over his chest and above the line of his obi. She reckons he probably got a few unwanted stares because of his odd choice of fashion.

One by one, he placed the smuggled goods on the small table—already filled to the brim trying to accommodate two people when it was made for one only. They looked like a poor couple trying to make ends meet, and [Name] found the idea of it somewhat endearing. Just the two of them against every odd of the world.

[Name] wouldn’t have minded that—no, not one bit. She could have been stripped of her title, her inheritance, the fame that came with the sound of her name. She could have lived free from luxury—all the things she had ever come to know—and she would have been alright. So long as he would sit in front of her for every meal, feel his embrace in the trying times, hear the sound of his breath as she drifts to sleep.

“So I… asked for these—”

It became clear to her: that a life devoid of him was not a life she had wanted to live at all.

“Steal, you mean.” She pointed, raising a brow at his sorry attempt at a cover-up.

“Ah—well, don’t worry over the small stuff too much, [Name]!” He chuckled, pulling out the last of what he stole. Soushiro’s hand moved to rub the surface of his nape, feeling her sharp stare stoke the flames of his rue.

He was adorable, she’d think.

When he was caught red-handed at something, he always failed to meet her stare. Perhaps he feared the look that would greet him should he take that leap of faith. And he should! But this—when he goes out of his way to do something that he knew would make her happy, how could [Name] be mad?

She smiled at his nature. He truly was kind beyond reason.

[Name] leaned over the small table crowding the space between them, tilting her head to try and meet his forlorn gaze. And she smiled, raising a hand to cradle the underside of his face, grazing the smooth pads of her fingertips under and over his eyes. Her gentle touch coaxed his heart to turn and look at her, finding that no mar of anger was carved on her expression.

“Mangoes aren’t gonna cut themselves, sword boy.” She grinned, flicking away the hair that stuck to his forehead. “Get to it, but next time, no more taking! Or you’ll kiss your blade instructor job goodbye!”

Was it the fault of the looming winter?

How could the weight of a soul she’d known for less than a month parry the value of a place she’d known for all her life?

But this house had nothing but empty lavishness decorating its corridors. There existed no traces of violet—no narrow eyes dyed every shade of red. The echo of his laughter didn’t calm the waves of silence that swallowed the world of her isolation. His footfalls were nowhere to be heard. In daybreak. Spells of the afternoon haze. Arrivals of twilight.

He wasn’t anywhere.

[Name] loved her home. It was the only lasting thing that remained when all everyone and everything did was change.

She loved her room. The little cracks in the wood on the far corner. The stain on the ceiling that never quite faded when she accidentally threw the ink bottle too high. Even the teeny tiny holes in the screen that led to the gardens.

This was all she’d ever known. Her memories are bordered by these four walls, domed by the winding halls and the never-ending stream of servants waltzing about.

Only now did she realize how wrong it was of her to weigh the value of something she had treasured all her life—of the one thing that was there when everybody else was not. But the home that should have eased this gaping hollowness eating at the seams of her heart served as the very reminder that it was the root of this suffocating sensation in her chest.

Because here, where her memories were mixed with one another, the absence of his life became all too apparent.

Maybe the reason why [Name] felt like a stranger in what used to be a familiar setting was because her heart had found haven somewhere else.

Where Hoshina Soushiro was breathing… that was the place where she felt at peace.

Hums of the winter gale startled her from her daydreams. Taking every ounce of fondness that his memory brought upon her, sinking her soul into oceans of frosting darkness.

The image of him spilt her skies open, making way for the tears to rain down her cheeks; dousing what was left of the hope flickering in her heart.

[Name] recalls the moment it had all come crashing down.

‘He is your betrothed—’ Oh, how those words haunted her every waking moment.

Sentiments that her father spoke felt heavy on her tongue.

‘You are to marry in spring, five months from now.’

[Name] wasn’t so sure if the same sentence could escape the prison of her throat and not bring her to violent sobs.

‘For the good of the clan…’

In the frozen wasteland of midnight, the echoes of his joy would come rushing back to her. The tenderness of his loving hold, and his fleeting touches saturated in patience.

How could she have endured sitting there so silently when the love she held in the palm of her hands was being threatened to ruin?

Illusions of his painted laughter dyed the rays of dawn a burning red. Crimson as the eyes that only looked at her with kindness; colored in nothing but the intention of loving her with all that he was—with all that Hoshina Soushiro could.

When I am with you, I swear… you will never have to shed another tear.

Right after she had so boldly declared her love for the swordsman—had him intertwined with the threads of her destiny that was set burn, how could she have just accepted the terms given to her like a mindless doll?

When Soushiro wasn’t everything she thought he’d be… [Name] shut her heart out—and chose the easy way out: acceptance. Running away.

Is that how fickle her love was? To falter without giving a fight? To grow tired at a single hurdle?

When everything would be set in stone and done, could she gather the strength, look Soushiro in the eye, and tell him that she could no longer love him?

How could [Name] hold his heart, riddled in scars from years of disappointment—marred by every living second of discouragement—wounded by the words of others who have yet to fall privy to his kindness, and ask him to take it back? How could she do that when he gave it to her so willingly? How could she hold his heart out for him to take when she did not want to let it go?

Battered and blue yet it remained hers to break.

Will the light of their love end their journey with the other burning to oblivion? With one heart shattered to a million pieces as the older holds the hammer. Dying by the hands of the other as its mirror lives out the rest of its life in guilt and torment.

Throw away every ounce of his kindness. Burn the memories of his affection. Plunge them all into infinite darkness for the sake of her family’s expectations.

To hurt the person who only ever wanted to love her.

No.

[Name] would not do that.

She would renounce the Uehara name before she’d even take the single step that would break the heart that covered hers in stardust—one that shone most fervently when there was nothing but darkness.

[Name] dried her tears and stood on her feet.

If she had to pluck her teeth and pull her nails to get her father to agree then so be it.

But heaven be damned if she had to marry anybody else that wasn’t Hoshina Soushiro.

---

Herds of people swarmed the streets of Tokyo, rushing past one another to get to where they needed to be, oceans of scarves and waves of flowing coats left to flutter in their wake. The earth trembled from the collective rhythm of their footfalls; whispers of everyday life stopped by the doors of the vehicle he occupied.

Hoshina Soushiro has been stuck in the same place for the past thirty minutes. He sat mindlessly, fiddling with his blunted nails as he prayed for the traffic to move forward.

“Soushiro-sama, I’ve just received word that the road has been blocked due to the recent Kaiju attack. If we wait, it’ll take two hours—”

The sun would be setting by then.

“No worries, I’ll just walk the rest of the way.” He dismissed, staring at the driver from the rear-view mirror to affirm his statement; reaching a hand to clutch the handle of the door.

“Sir, it’s four kilometers—” the driver’s protest fell on empty space. Long gone was the recipient of his words, disappearing around the intersection. “… away.”

Babel of the city life swarmed the borders of his ears. Towering skyscrapers bordered the lines of his vision, casting their entirety to graze the heavens above. Planes flew overhead, whirs of their engines sounding down on the city.

The sun peeked over the wall of clouds, breathing out its warmth, a momentary refuge in the unending spiral of frost.

Soushiro tucked his uncovered hands in the tunnel of his sleeves, rubbing his palms over his forearms to melt the cold rising in the horizons of his fingertips. Despite the clear signs of the chill, stubbornly did Hoshina opted to wear a montsuki over the clothes that could have caged his temperature.

Meeting a clan head was considered an important event even if he was going as a proxy. And he would rather freeze in the dead of winter than set a bad image of himself in the eyes of [Name]’s father.

Soushiro passed by a park, stopping shortly to gaze at the children jumping in puddles left by the last autumn rain. Airy laughter rang in the open space, flowing its way into the rivers of his ears.

He trailed his gaze from the playing kids and onto the ones watching over them—parents, he guessed. Hands linked with one another, the mother ushering the children to smile as her husband held out a camera, capturing the scenery forever in that photograph.

The cold breeze waltzed in their midst, distorting the scent of reality. Rivers of clouds drowned the painting of the sun, coloring the world in shadows.

And for a moment, in the place of those two strangers was the woman he loved so dearly, accompanied by the mirror of his own self. Only he was carving into time the image of her as she laughed at the sight before her. His hands ruffled the threads of her hair; she’d reprimanded him for spoiling what her handmaidens worked so hard to achieve.

On the roads he trekked, Soushiro saw the picture of her in everything.

Waiting on the other side of the street, smiling so kindly at him, not even minding the currents of people drifting past her. She’d wave at him unceremoniously, unfit for a princess like her but he’d see no trace of regret in her eyes.

Alongside the falls of his steps was another set of feet, smaller in stride so he’d have to cease his usual pace to be parallel to hers. If he could, Soushiro would walk slower—match the tempo of the elderly if he had to—just so every second with [Name] would feel like it lasted for eternities.

Waiting in line for their turn at a restaurant, childishly giggling at the jokes they would tell.

Soushiro turned his gaze to the side, finding the image of his most fervent daydreams gazing back at him. Her hands were enveloped by his own, a gentle curve of the lips decorating her face.

Is this what it would be like to live a life blessed by her soul besides his?

That he’d be cradled under the blues of her sky, blanketed by her everlasting affection, soaring the heavens of her love.

He’d be the luckiest person in the universe if it were so.

The borders of the Uehara Clan came into view. Concrete walls lined the perimeter, trees stripped from their foliage scattered across the courtyard. Clacks of his sandals meeting the cobblestone path echoed in the silent grounds.

Waiting by the opened gates of the noble family’s home was an attendant bowed in a formal greeting to the visitor.

“Hoshina-sama,” he spoke, eyes glued to the soles of his feet.

Only when the man acknowledged his formalities did he cease his action, “Uehara-sama is waiting for you in the tearoom.”

Soushiro breathed in the scene of [Name]’s home. A certain fondness bubbled in his heart at the thought that during once upon a time, she too, was far too tiny for a place that was so spacious.

A small pond covered the expanse of the gardens, a stone bridge hovering over it in an arc. On the far side of it was a pavilion, empty just like the rest of the courtyard. Flowers of varying colors bloomed for no one to see.

Would [Name] insist on occupying this space far into the future? Will she drag him in the winding halls of her home, and tell him of the tales that those nooks and corners have witnessed? Could she ever bring herself to share her dreams with him and to one day… share her home?

Soushiro would mind. It would be his honor. He’ll linger around this place so much that there won’t be any room left for desolation.

He passed through the doors of the household, still escorted by the same helper who welcomed him here.

Soushiro could almost see the echoes of her memories in these halls. He wondered: Did she ever run away from her lessons? Or snuck something out from the kitchens? Perhaps hide in a place no one knew but herself?

Picturing [Name] as someone who was far from the person she was now felt strange. Somehow, it made her seem more human—more real, and it brought a great comfort to Soushiro to be reminded that she existed. That the woman he had fallen so head over heels for wasn’t a figment of his imagination—that she was here, and she loved him, too.

The aid knelt on the floor and knocked, letting a few streams of afternoon sunlight stream through the half-opened screen. “Hoshina-sama has arrived, my lord.”

Clatter of ceramic arose in the room, probably clearing what was left of lunch and replacing it with refreshments.

“Let him enter.”

The servant turned and nodded at the swordsman, a silent cue for his entrance.

Soushiro’s hands trembled at the thought of meeting [Name]’s father. Though he was here as a substitute for his brother and not a suitor, it did not stop his heart from hammering the insides of his ribs.

He exhaled the nerves away and stepped through the doors. The helper shut it in his stead as he bowed respectfully at the older man.

“Ah, Soushiro-kun! What brings you here? I thought the meeting was with Soichiro.” He smiled kindly at the Hoshina boy, welcoming him to have a seat.

“My brother had urgent matters to attend to, Uehara-dono. I am here in his place.” He replied, settling in the cushion on the floor.

“Well, that is unfortunate. But no matter! You are just as bright as your brother.”

Soushiro felt his heart lighten at the comment, sensing no tones of deception or hesitation. He could see where [Name] got her ideals from—even the same emanation of compassion. They were mirrors of one another: her and the Uehara head. Perhaps it was an inherent trait in their line of the family.

“Thank you, my lord. I shall do my best.”

The dialogue exchanged by the prominent figures of the two families lingered in the small room: away from the anxious form of the figure staggering down the halls.

[Name]’s breathing stuttered at the thought of confronting her father.

What would I even say?

Her fingers drummed against the windowsill; eyebrows furrowed as the last threads of her patience had finally burned out.

It scared her to the ends of the world. Rattled her soul into anarchy. Her father’s approval—his happiness—was something she had put on a pedestal, coming first before anything else. And it would break her heart to see his face stricken with disappointment at the words she would say: that she already loves someone—a swordsman, and she would not be able to stomach marrying anybody else.

To what horizons would her disrespect cost her? Being stripped of her inheritance was nothing, but if he ceased to love her… what then? If she had to live the remainder of her life as someone whom her father could not look in the eye, what then? She would be happy with the one she loved yet it came at the price of resentment from the one who had watched her become who she was.

She loves him so, much more than words could say but… don’t I deserve to be happy, too?

[Name] would respect any decision he would make, so long as it was not one where he would revoke his love for her. Because, at the very least, her happiness should not come at the expense of his.

Finding a flicker of determination, [Name] slid the door open, bracing herself to declare the words fissuring the dam of her tears.

“[Name]?”

Soushiro spoke her name as easily as he breathed. The smile playing on the hills of his lips rose higher upon her arrival.

The Uehara heir faltered in her step, seemingly trying to escape a scene she did not want to be part of. In her tornado of panic, she nearly tripped over the small cat unknowingly trailing behind her. One whose tail failed to form correctly; waves of its limb looked more like frantic swatting.

[Name] looked behind her to see the little animal pawing at the fabric of her clothes, asking to be held. Quickly, she bent down to reach for the feline, standing back to her full height as she hugged it close to her chest.

“Soushiro! What are you doing here?”

The swordsman’s eyes shone like starlight at the sight of her; hurriedly rising to his feet to greet her.

“Ah, [Name], I see you’ve met Soushiro.” The voice of the Uehara head shackled him back to reality, a somewhat awkward reminder that it wasn’t just him and [Name] occupying the room. His tone was blanketed in care, as though the small matter of meeting one another was less conflicting than it actually was.

[Name] stepped through the doorway, taking the cat along with her.

“Of course, he paid his chivalry to me on my first night in their home.” More like I tried to kill him…

The older man shifted in his seat, before rising to his feet as well. “Soushiro-kun is the son of the Hoshina Head. I can expect that you had given him the proper courtesy when you crossed paths?” He raised a brow at his daughter.

[Name] shifted her stare to Soushiro who swallowed thickly, tugging at the collar of his montsuki, before retracing back to meet the expectant gaze of her father.

He’s… an heir…

[Name] hummed in agreement, pulling a look of approval from the clan head. “Of course, father.”

Her head raced to formulate reasons for the arrival of the Hoshina heir. Soushiro could already feel the storm he would face after this. The waves of her temper he’d have to calm. Giants of her anger he’d have to slay.

“Did I interrupt your conversation?” [Name] asked, tilting her head to the side as she looked at them back and forth.

“No, my dear. We were just about to conclude.” The Uehara head nodded in acknowledgement in the Hoshina’s direction, patting down the creases in his clothing. “I greatly appreciate your visit today, Soushiro-kun.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Uehara-dono.” Soushiro bowed.

[Name]’s father patted his daughter’s head and left.

Deafening silence echoed in the confines of the room. [Name] did not ease her sharp glare as she crossed the distance splitting them apart.

Standing a few breaths from him, [Name] intertwined her arms over her chest as Soushiro looked at anything that wasn’t her probing stare.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” [Name] asked.

“I didn’t think it mattered.” He countered just as hastily, trying to take a step closer to where she stood.

[Name] looked at him in exasperation, astounded at the weight of his words.

“What—you—just—” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why on earth would you think that is not crucial information? After I—you… you tricked me!” [Name] pointed an accusing finger in his direction, lines of silver rising from the horizons of her eyes.

“Made me go on and on—I thought—gah!” She flailed her hands in the air, relenting at the sheer bewilderment of the situation.

“I’m sure you understand [Name]… what it means to be a descendant of power.” Soushiro’s statement was vague, but to them who shared the common ground of nobility, he spoke every word that was needed.

“But you knew who I was—”

“I didn’t.” He admitted, drawing nearer to her warmth as though he was starved of it for all the seconds he was not next to her.

Soushiro caged her hands with his own, raising them closer to graze them with his lips.

“I came to that room with the intention of chasing you away. But when the servant spoke your name, only then did I know.”

“That it will be you…” their words were echoes of one another, like a symphony made to last for the rest of the infinite vastness to come. Grazing the skies of every world in streaks of fire; a declaration of the love that was set long before they came to be.

“It was going to be you, regardless if I asked you or not.”

At the whisper of his admission, the density in her heart exploded into stardust. All the sleepless nights wondering what to make of her father’s decree faded to a dull rhythm. Fractures littering her heart were sealed shut by the gravity of his confession.

And in that small rift in space and time, [Name] truly felt glad. Because here, in this lifetime she had him, and he had her. In this life, she loved him, and he loved her, too. And she thought—maybe, just maybe—this would work, that it won’t be so bad… because he was here, and she was going to marry him. Hoshina Soushiro, and not anybody else.

[Name] was going to spend the rest of her life loving him. I’m going to marry you.

She has never felt so elated, so seen than when she was with him. No one had ever come so close, embraced her in understanding aside from him. In his arms, in the presence of his love… heaven descended on earth.

“Idiot.” She breathed, burying her head in his chest; tears flowing freely, only to be wiped by the threads of his clothes.

“Yeah…” Soushiro wrapped an arm over her shoulders, tracing patterns over her kimono as the other rose to tangle through the locks of her hair.

And he wonders then and there if this was what it felt like to be betrothed to her. What would it be like to live a life married to her…

“You gonna tell me what you were talking about just now?” She sniffled, pulling her face free from his chest soaked with her tears, smiling up at him.

[Name] raised a hand to cease her tears, only to have it be bested by his hands that enveloped the expanse of her face, wiping away the remnants of her sadness.

“I would but then I’m going to have to cut your head from your shoulders for hearing classified information. I’d rather not do that to you whom I’ve come to like very much.”

“Oh, shut up.” She laughed, leaning further into his warmth. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love me, though.” He teased, pinching her cheek.

[Name] rolled her eyes and pulled at his cheeks as well, “A decision I am now coming to regret.”

And she wonders briefly if this is how the rest of her life would look like. Would his teasing ever cease? Prodding and poking at any sign of weakness. [Name] wouldn’t mind. Of all the stars in the universe to exist, every timeline—all the worlds out there, here… in her own, she had him.

“That’s cold.” His pout made him look like a duck, and it made [Name] laugh.

Her laughter vanquished the remains of Soushiro’s anger, the image of his brother burning from the forests of his mind. It didn’t matter then: all his discouragement, taunts that he would never rise to greatness, that his talent was useless in the age of firearms.

Sure, he would be labeled a prodigy in the past… but he would not ponder on that when [Name] is in the future. Nothing awaits you there, because everything is here.

Where [Name] existed, that’s where he’d rather be.

Among all the stars, realities that I could have lived, across the infinite galaxies… how lucky am I to have met you here.

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#chiya's head rent 🎐#kaiju no.8 #ao3 #kaiju 8 #kn8 #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soushirou #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro

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