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gutsby · 4 days ago

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Easy to Please

Pairing: Sleazy Landlord!Joel x Reader

Summary: Months pass, and you can’t make rent—again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Dubcon à la power imbalance / sex for money. Infidelity. Pervy!Joel. Talks of abuse. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk.

Note: This fic was loosely inspired by my three favorite songs about female adultery—‘Thinkin’ Bout Cheatin’ by Mae Estes, ‘Lyin’ Eyes’ by The Eagles, and ‘Cheatin’ Songs’ by Midland. No, I don’t support infidelity. Yes, it makes for fun fiction.

Word count: 3.1k

You hate the face he makes when he cums.

You hate the way he tastes when he’s done.

You hate the grit and the heft of the man, every lone hair that sprouts silver from his chest, and the way he pats the open space beside him in bed after you roll away.

‘Never seen a girl so goddamn allergic to cuddling!’

What makes his observation worse is that you know you’re hating it more and more with every passing day.

Today you have seven Benjamins, two Grants, and a Jackson tucked into your purse. You walk with a sluggish gait, knowing you’re $310 short of making this month’s rent and last. But you go on anyway. It’s not like Joel can’t see you from where he’s seated on the porch.

The pleasantries you exchange are short. By now, you have only to breeze past him in his lawn chair and say, ‘I can’t stay long,’ and he knows the rest. He grabs his six-pack, then his Pall Malls, and asks after you all the same.

“How’s the wrist?” he says.

You sprained it over the weekend. You aren’t sure how he heard. At any rate, you ignore the question and set your bag down on the counter before going to the fridge. You deflect with a question of your own—what the hell happened to the lemonade? He had a full jug last week.

“Got thirsty,” Joel answers, shrugging.

You’re always thirsty, you tell him, and you eye the case of Heineken that he’s placed by your purse. You don’t need to see his face to feel the smile starting to form.

“Don’t I know it,” he says. Insinuating.

You’d hit him over the head if you’d been able to reach. He’s still smiling when your shoulder checks his—closer to his elbow, from the feel of it—and when you leave the kitchen, he leaves too. He trails behind you with an ease that says this is the sixth time this has happened since August, and you’re hardly a week out from Halloween.

It’s not just rent you need to pay; it’s other things. Transmission in your truck’s gone to shit. Phone’s been on the fritz since you dropped it in the tub. Talking heads on TV say the country’s on track to get hit with another recession, and from the way your boss has been slashing your hours in half, you think they may be right. The crack in your bathroom window was tiny last week. Today it’s gone, because your husband put his fist through the thing on Sunday. You patched the hole with duct tape.

Joel’s covering the cost for the pane to be replaced, but that’s because he has to. He’s your landlord—proud owner of the Delta Commons trailer park since ‘97—and that’s what landlords do. Everything else is yours to pay.

You’re a part-time student, part-time waitress, and a full-time caretaker for your ailing spouse, or so you call him. Joel knows Stetson’s not sick, just perennially unemployed and drunk. You pay for most things, and it’s rarely enough to cover your rent. Stetson doesn’t care.

And that’s where Joel comes in.

No pun intended, but in his mind, there’s really no nicer way to say it: you fuck his brains out to make up for the shortfall in rent. You blow him before work to make sure your husband and you will have enough to eat that week. You bite the warm, freckled skin between his shoulder and his neck while you ride him, because you know that gesture will get you a little extra cash when you leave. You smile after swallowing him, and Joel knows that it tastes like shit. You’ve gotten good at faking it lately.

What he hopes isn’t totally fabricated is the way you call him big. Strong. Handsome. So stupidly well-endowed that you have to wince for the first few seconds when you sit on it, and go slow when he takes you from behind

“O-ow!” you whine presently.

His dick isn’t even in you yet. You just stubbed your toe on the edge of his dresser on your way to the bathroom.

“You alright?”

“Fuck me!”

I will, he thinks.

“Want me to get an ice—”

“Let go-OW! FUCK!”

Joel barely even touched your wrist and you were flinching away with a brand new pain. You rub it, almost defensively, then pin him with an icy glare. Nice going.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Now he’ll be lucky if he can swing a half-hearted handy from the one that isn’t hurt. That’s how mad you look.

You turn your body away, and for a second, Joel assumes that his fate has been sealed: you’ll bumble over to the rug by his bed, toss a pillow on the floor, and assume what he already knows to be your least favorite position. You’ll kneel, and talk of migraines and your long, grueling day and in the end find an excuse not to use your mouth. That’ll be okay. But with the debts you owe him now, it also won’t be enough, and Joel will have to ask you back again. He hates sounding needy, but baby, deal’s a deal.

Luckily you don’t give him the chance to use that line. Much to his surprise, you get on the bed. You lie down. You seem to take a little more care settling in this time, but you take off your clothes. It’s a lime green tank top and some ratty jean skirt, but it’s enough to tempt him.

And not just tempt, but oblige him to accept, unblinking. He crawls over the bed to get to you, and he finds that his spit’s filling his mouth a little quicker. His hands are starting to shake as they slide over the duvet, and the tree trunks he once called his legs are runny, like eggs.

He has to remind himself, bluntly, of your last name, the shiny ring on your hand, your husband’s name, your—

“Age—what’d you say your age was again?” Joel asks.

You look confused for a second, but you tell him.

“Twenty-one.”

Way too fucking young to have gotten hitched three years ago. But then he remembers this is Leakey, Texas, and your family hasn’t strayed more than ten miles from the center of town in four generations. You told him that.

“I thought you said twenty,” Joel says, a little uneasy.

“I did. Up until this past Sunday I was.”

“Oh.”

A beat.

“Happy birthday.”

You blink.

“You gonna take your pants off or what?”

And he does. Maybe embarrassed at first, but then the jeans come off, and his boxers go next, and without so much as a word or a breath, his worries are sliding away like water off his back. Like his clothes now peeling off.

Like your smile growing thin at the sight of him half-stripped on the bed in front of you. Joel doesn’t flatter himself to think he’s even half as handsome as he was in his youth, but he knows he has his draws. What endears him to you today is, unfortunately, his wallet. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be convinced to like him more.

More than Stetson, he thinks without humor.

Dumb son of a bitch can’t tell his ass from his elbow and yet he’s won himself you, living it up these last three y—

“Oh.”

He sounds like an owl now. His clothes are off, and you’re rubbing him, pumping him gently in your hand, which you were so kind to make wet with your saliva. It even sounds better than his, the way it squelches with every flick. Joel can only say so much in strangled breaths.

He tries anyway:

“Feel like a dream, sweet pea.”

Sweet pea.

Your pace quickens. Joel swears he can see the corners of your lips twitch, but then he thinks you’re just wincing. You move down to the floor beside the bed. Kneel almost politely while you nestle yourself between his parted legs

Your mouth is warm. It’s always warm. Joel wouldn’t expect a girl’s tongue to greet his dick like ice, but yours is always heated to a thousand degrees, it feels like. He enjoys the sting. Your lips envelop his big, leaking tip, and he swears he can stay like this forever—in you.

On you, too. He’s got his palm resting flat on your head, and he doesn’t mean to, but he pushes. He bunches your hair in a fist and drags your face to make you swallow.

Mean old man, you must be saying in your head when he stuffs your mouth full. Makes your eyes prick with tears.

Sweet girl. My sweet pea, he thinks, affectionately, and continues to rub your scalp. He holds your teary gaze.

And then you’re moving up. Down. Coating his length with shiny spit and tiny whimpers as your lips move gently back and forth, again and again. Joel’s grip tightens in your hair, and he begs for more. More.

“More,” he orders, jaw clenched, “Fit a little more’a me.”

From where you’re kneeling below, you look put off.

Then you pull off, and you wipe your wet chin.

“Chokin’ me,” you grumble, “‘S’too big.”

Normally, Joel loves to hear that.

Now, however, he’s sliding his touch to your chin and tilting your head up to him. Thumbing at the spit dribbling out on either side of your mouth and subsequently coaxing your lips further apart.

He slides back in, and you don’t fight it. You like it. Holding his gaze in a soft, docile look while your lips stretch deliciously around his shaft, you must love it. Every inch and every twinge of pleasure from the brush of his cock going in and out must be your favorite thing.

Joel hopes it is, anyway. He holds your face now, and your throat convulses involuntarily. You’re so pretty.

“Such a good, sweet girl, ain’t ya?” he presses, watching the coarse grey hairs at the base of him tickle your face.

You respond well to praise. You preen under those words, and try to nod. But his cock is so deep down your throat you end up choking again. Joel watches all of it smiling.

Petting your head and not pushing again. Grinning.

“Love my cock nice and stuffed in that pretty throat?”

You blink instead of nodding, but it’s more than enough.

“Love me deep?”

And the head of him sinks somewhere he’s never been. Your eyes are like two wide pools, and your lips leak everywhere—your chin, your cheeks, your neck.

Joel’s smearing it all with his palm and smiling so wide that he thinks he might pull a muscle. He pants heavily.

“Just what you’re made for. Just what you need.”

You look like you might agree. He keeps going.

“My fuckin’ mouth. My pretty, pretty mouth.”

He holds your face. He thinks he might cum.

“Ain’t a damn thing Stetson can do for this mouth, huh?”

And then he doesn’t. Joel barely blinks, and you’re already bucking your head out of his hold, mouth skittering away while the spit spills out. You’re practically drenched down to the chest when your face rears back. Your eyes are alight and no longer smiling when you grit:

“Don’t.”

Joel should’ve known better.

He’s hit a raw nerve, and now he really wishes he hadn’t.

It doesn’t stop there—but it doesn’t get better, either. Things progress in much the same way as they always have but with none of the need, or the warmth, of before. You climb back up and straddle him quick. Not meeting his eye, you just sit down, and slide down, and don’t wince at all. You don’t tell him that he’s big, and he doesn’t get the chance to even groan at the first influx of pleasure before you’re riding him. Bouncing and grinding your hips against his with all the passion of someone perusing the newspaper. You don’t whimper or moan.

Of course, Joel enjoys the feeling. He also wants someone to punch him in the throat for what he’s done.

“Hey, hon—” he starts, voice strained, “Hon, I’m sorr—”

“Shut up,” you snap.

Your movements hardly falter, and now your hand is seizing the headboard. You’re clenching him tight inside your wet, drooling cunt, and it’s obvious you’re trying to make him cum as quickly as possible. You swallow hard.

Joel isn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, his body is being flooded with pleasure, and on the other, he fears you may never do this with him again. Quickly fixing on the latter, he cups your face in one hand. It’s still wet.

His fingers smear the spit, and somehow you look even prettier. You keep grinding your body in desperate little fits above him, and really, you feel fucking amazing, but Joel is too focused on other thoughts. He squeezes you.

“Baby—” he tries again, but you shush him just as fast.

Your hips are moving viciously now. No matter how sore your legs might have been from a long day toiling away—just a couple hours before your shift at your next job, if Joel’s remembering correctly—you’re working him well. Doing him in. Fucking his brains out, but you aren’t his.

His fingers smear the spit even more. Never will be his.

“Sweet pea—”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”

Now he can’t deny that his climax is close. But this isn’t how he wanted it to end—with you so incensed you can hardly look him in the eye. His hand rubs more, helpless.

And just when he’s seconds away from painting your insides white, losing it all to the pleasure, he sees it.

His wet, sticky touch has uncovered a residue.

Joel pulls his fingers away in a blink, and simultaneously, your eyes are fluttering closed. You’re focused now on climax; because of that, you don’t see what he sees.

What he’s stunned to find on his fingers: makeup.

Lots and lots of thick, heavy makeup on your cheeks. Concealer, he thinks he’s heard it called once or twice.

No matter the name, he quickly comes to see what it’s for. Just as you’re hitting your peak, squeezing the headboard behind him, and coming undone with a shockwave trembling all through your body, Joel pales.

The makeup that you applied so heavy tonight hides bruises. Black and blue and awful hues of greenish-purple too, your whole face, he sees, is engulfed.

He doesn’t speak. He won’t ask.

He won’t cum tonight, either.

He’ll finish something else.

You leave Joel’s trailer angry. You don’t say goodbye. The screen door screams shut behind you when you leave, and silently, you wonder why he didn’t cum. For once, you wish he had—and hadn’t said half of what he did.

Six hours pass like molasses, and by the end of it all—the close of your second shift—Stetson’s name still echoes in your head. The way Joel said it. It hums along the walls of your skull while you walk, and as you draw closer to home, you remember that strange and infuriating tone.

Then you remember your own less than two months ago:

Don’t talk to my husband. Don’t talk about my husband.

They were two simple rules, and Joel broke them both.

He must’ve defied the first when paying a visit to make repairs that week, and that’s when Stetson mentioned your hand: how you ‘slipped’ in the bath. Tripped and conveniently sprained your wrist the same night he almost tore your arm out of the socket for looking at a waiter a tad too long at dinner. You’d bet any sum of money Joel didn’t get to hear that part from Stetson when he came over to see about the window, though.

No, your twenty-first came and went without so much as a word about your wrist. Your arm. Your face—used to getting caked with concealer every third week or so.

You wince as you open the door. You walk slowly.

At first, you’re met with silence, and you sigh with relief. Then you hear it, and shortly drop your purse to the floor.

You all but fall down yourself at the sight: your husband doubled over across from you, in the kitchen. His head in his hands. You don’t need to see the face to know that it’s bleeding. Profusely. You tread ever slower into the room, thinking somehow, some way he’s going to blame this on you. And when he straightens a little and shows off the full, gruesome extent of his injuries, you blanch to think that it might be. His body’s been beaten to a pulp.

Your pulse hammers in your head so loud you can’t hear him groan. You see him, but you don’t really believe it.

And when Stetson reaches for you, you stagger back.

Your hands skim the counter, but your brain barely registers it. Your husband’s calling to you now, ‘Quit standin’ there lookin’ stupid, do somethin’, huh?!’ He’s screaming, and you’re not hearing it. Barely feeling like a sentient person at all but just a doll stumbling backward on two wooden legs. As you walk, your palm stays stuck to the laminate underneath it, and suddenly, you feel it.

An envelope.

In this state, you aren’t sure why you grab it, but you do.

You take the lone white paper, and you turn to leave. Your hands shake as you hold the thing, and your legs are hardly any better, but they carry you, miraculously, from the kitchen to the threshold of the back door. Then out. Stetson’s not just yelling but bellowing, loud, every last obscenity known to man as he holds his bloodied side and limps in his perilous, pathetic way. Fortunately, you’re gone just in time to miss the bottle he hurls.

Outside, you walk. And walk. And in the still of the night you’re obliged to find your way through a miscellany of trailers and trucks and old, creaking vans by moonlight, and the throbbing in your head begins to slow. You don’t rush to get far, and you don’t have your keys even if you wanted to drive off. You keep walking. Watching nothing.

When your eyes drift to the envelope in your hand, you barely see that either. You’re just blinking as you look, and breathing as you wait for the sight to make sense.

Inside, you find seven Benjamins, two Grants, and a Jackson staring back. Next to them are a few dozen others—enough to cover August, September, October, and several months before that, if you had to guess.

You hope you’ll get the opportunity to thank Joel, and maybe tell him that you don’t really hate him, someday.

#GAME JOEL I OWE YOU AN APOLOGY…….I WASN’T REALLY FAMILIAR WITH YOUR GAME #WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME HE SOUNDED LIKE THAAAAAAAT!!!!#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic

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fullsunalicia · 2 months ago

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gif made by @dojaejung ! all credits to @dojaejung !

roses (m.) | jeong jaehyun

“it’s killing me to know there’s someone else out there buying you / roses, roses” OR where jung jaehyun is pathetic enough to be yearning after his beautiful ex-girlfriend, whom he reconnects with after awkwardly crashing her date with a new potential lover.

jeong jaehyun x ex-girlfriend! reader

warnings: some allusions to stalking and online harassment, some make-outage, oral (fem. receiving), some exhibitionism ig?????, some cussing, jaehyun is EXTREMELY down bad (he who yearns is he who earns amirite yall), svt as side characters for my caratzen agenda, also i’m still an awkward writer (in my opinion) so that warrants its own warning

This is why Jaehyun despises leaving his apartment.

For the first time in weeks, Doyoung and Taeyong, in their combined nerdy best friends power, have managed to make him go outside again. Although it’s the middle of the winter, each day inching closer to Christmas day, the bustling city is filled with people enjoying themselves despite the sub-zero temperatures. It makes him sick, really. Not people in general, for sure, but the sight of couples swarming about, their happy faces making sure every single person’s envious gaze is following them until they disappear around the corner.

Winter is sickening. Winter makes people too cozy, too cuddly, too loving. When spring comes, that love melts away, fleeting as it was. It dims out like the warm fire you stoke in the evening as you gather with your loved ones, in the morning long gone and forgotten with the loss of the guests. Jaehyun hates it. His friends knows he hates it.

So did you.

As Doyoung and Taeyong keep him in their middle, holding on to his arm on each sides as if they were old aunts bickering away, he reminisces about your shared hatred of the cold. You had hated snow, most of all, he remembers as he watches the thick, cold flakes swirl around in the air. It leaves a mist on the people passing by him, painting them in the lovely shades of the cold. Rosy cheeks, white smiling teeth, blue fingertips. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine it’s you clinging to him again, complaining loudly about the weather, scared of falling to the ground. You had always been incredibly clumsy, and unashamedly loud. Every passerby could not help but smile at your antics, but none smiled wider than the man you had wrapped around your littlest finger; Jaehyun, who had always stared at you instead of ahead. Jaehyun, who in the end always made you guys fall because he wasn’t concentrating on walking, he was concentrating on you.

You, the single star in his solar system he was orbitting around. He had felt himself collapsing, folding around you, as if he could ingrain himself in your existence in the very same manner you had immortalized yourself in his soul. How pathetic you had left him.

“Hey, earth to Jae! You’re not seriously upset we made you leave the house, right?” Taeyong’s hand forces itself into Jaehyun’s periphery as he waves it infront of Jaehyun’s face, trying to gain the man’s attention. Every finger was perfectly manicured, the tell-tale rings that signified Taeyong snapping Jaehyun out of his daydreams. Mentioned friend looks worried, but not regretful. “We were beginning to think you had fallen asleep in there, like some bear. You shouldn’t hibernate.”

“But bears got it so right. It’s so much better to sleep the winter away.” Jaehyun sounds exhausted, almost childish. He knew he was a grown man, not a teenager mooning over his first love. But it certainly felt like he had become the former. That was your effect.

“Dude.” Doyoung grasps his shoulder then, boring his gaze into Jaehyun’s face. He had been dreading that, actually; it’s hard to act like a complaining child when Doyoung makes you face yourself just like that. Almost unconsciously, Jaehyun straightens up. It’s almost like facing your mother, and he’s trying to avoid Doyoung’s fussing. “It’s been almost a year. I hate to be the one to be saying this, but you have to let it go at some point, man.”

You have to let it go at some point. Doyoung’s right, of course, but Jaehyun hasn’t yet reached that point of being reasonable. It’s not like the five stages of grief. Jaehyun is in the awkward process of trying to understand what has actually happened to him; why your relationship came to an end, why you were so kind to him despite it all, how you had finally cut him off. No one really knows why you did it, least of all Jaehyun. As you had broke it off with him after dropping him off at the airport before he flew to the first stop of his current world tour, there wasn’t exactly time to ask questions.

You had given him a letter and apologized (seriously, so not cool to explain in a letter just so you didn’t need to face him), and just as soon as the flight touched down at his destination and his phone had regained connection to his cellular data, you had changed your number, deleted your socials and disappeared from his life.

(Not like he immediately found you again when you re-debuted on social media. Johnny, as a true best friend, has forced him to limit looking at your instagram account to once a week, but how will Johnny know if he does it more? No one needs to know. Jaehyun would lose face if even anyone knew how much he misses you.)

Jaehyun lowers his eyes then, unable to keep looking at Doyoung. “Let go. Yeah.”

Doyoung and Taeyong exchange a worried gaze at that, before nudging him to a new direction. Their footsteps leave soft white traces, disappearing as quickly as they are made as fresh snow falls. “I got just the thing to cheer you up,” Taeyong quips then, and when he smiles at Jaehyun in an attempt to comfort him, Jaehyun finds the strength to smile back. Those are his friends, after all. If he weren’t so detached from his emotions, he’d find himself moved by their sincerity; his silly friends that loved and cared for him despite his habits and his weird coping methods. They didn’t judge when he sent them new song lyrics he had written in the middle of the night because the memory of you is still haunting him, scaring him off sleep because the comfort he gains from dreaming of you is as addicting as chasing liquor. They had let him ruminate in his apartment for as long as possible. It was time to face the world properly now. “Hot cocoa and waffles?”

Jaehyun snorted. “Like children?”

“Like children,” Taeyoung announces, his voice too earnest for the statement. Doyoung laughs, and then it’s difficult to not join in. Taeyong grins, happy to have drawn that reaction out of them. For the moment, Jaehyun feels normal again, and he offers to buy the waffles as Doyoung and Taeyong line up to buy the hot cocoa.

That’s the same moment where Jaehyun immediately regrets having left the house.

The sight of you physically knocks the breath of his lungs. For just a second, just seeing your face erases the feeling of all the pain that had been wrenching at his heartstrings, your beauty so all-encompassing it stuns him into silence. The cold season has kissed your face in the most pretty way - as you throw your head back in laughter, your (incredibly tempting) lips curve into his favorite smile of yours, the smile that has to be stolen out of you, so surprised by something that you laugh involuntarily. Honest. And earnest.

And beautiful.

It’s almost beautiful enough to make him not acknowledge the other man that you are gifting it to.

Jaehyun forces himself not to look, the effort incredible. He does not want to see who you have replaced him with, he really doesn’t, truly not, but then the dizzy envy makes him look so that he can bombard the man with death threats in his mind. Not that it matters. He could have been anyone, anyone at all. What did it matter if that was someone he knew or someone unknown, when the most damning thing about the situation was that it wasn’t him?

When he looks back at you to keep analyzing whether you like this man a lot, Jaehyun has come to the startled realization that you have noticed him, aswell. Your face has dropped, the shock painted over your face like an ill-fitting mask. “Jaehyun?” you say, the sweet voice carried over to him in the wind, and his knees almost buckle. (Jesus Christ, he’s a grown man.) Your partner notices, looking up to see whom you’re addressing, and Jaehyun’s nonchalant reaction to the irrelevance of the man’s identity disappears instantaneously.

Fuck you, he thinks hard at the dude, as if the sheer mental strength of his thoughts could reach him, for actually looking gorgeous. Fucking hell.

“Jeong Jaehyun?” You call again, robbing him off the opportunity to maybe pretend he hadn’t heard you. He forces himself to move forward.

“You know each other?” the guy asks then, and Jaehyun thinks to himself, No, idiot, I am the stalker that’s been breaking into her apartment and leaving her letters. But then he remembers how Johnny has admonished him for doing the social media equivalent and how often he visits your socials just for a glance at you, and the thought almost immediately sobers him up. “Jeong Jaehyun,” he introduces himself then, reaching out his hand to shake the other man’s, even though he’d rather bite it off. “We were…”

“Acquaintances,” you interrupt him almost immediately. The smile you sport now is nervous, to the untrained eye flawless. But Jaehyun knows every inch of your soul, and the look in your eyes pleads him not to acknowledge it. “Jaehyun used to be really close to my brother. You’ve met my brother, right?”

“Oh, Seokmin, right?” The stranger’s eye glint in recognition. “That means you must be cool, man. Anyone who’s in Seokmin’s good cards is good in mine. My name’s Junseo.”

“Nice to meet you, Junseo,” he makes himself speak, although the words taste like coal in his mouth, turning ashy as he pronounces them. He’s never been a good liar, always careful about choosing his words, but then, he’s never been in the situation where had to meet the lover that was going to replace him in your heart. He turns to you, your lovely face ripping into him. You stare back as if you are aware of the effort it takes him to remain friendly. You don’t look like you enjoy inflicting this havoc upon him, but ever since that day, he doesn’t truly know what you are capable of. “It was nice to see you,” he tells you, turning away as soon as the words leave his lips.

He never hears your “Jae”, the sound ripped out of you like an old instinct.

jaehyun

could you maybe at least warn me that your sister is back in town

dk ��

i didnt even know she was

can you let her know to bring milk to mom’s house we ran out this morning

jaehyun

. . .

no dk i cannot i almost collapsed when i saw her

can you say hello to your mom tho

Jaehyun drops the phone on the couch, the interaction having soured his mood just as much as the meeting with you. Seokmin was cool, and a really good friend, although a bit clueless. He had been firm in his support for Jaehyun, not picking sides, but not abandoning their friendship either, and had been one of the friends who had dragged him out for dinner once a week ever since the break-up to make sure Jaehyun was actually eating. Jaehyun doesn’t even think this happened to your dismay. You were way too nice, and even your fucking break-up letter had been kind, even though it hadn’t been enough to wipe the blank look in his eyes as he had read it.

“Okay, so that may have went worse than we thought,” Taeyong proclaims, the hot cocoa still steaming in his hand. Even though they had technically paid for the cup as a loan, taking it back home felt like stealing. Jaehyun couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was staring at the ceiling, looking at no one. “But hey, at least we found out who the mystery guy on her instagram was!”

Johnny, who had let himself into the apartment while they were gone, perked up at that. Very aware of your instagram due to Jaehyun’s influence, he knew that there had been an odd silhouette in your instagram story the past few weeks, almost a soft-launch and almost not. There had been theories whether the mystery guy had been a new lover. Jaehyun had almost thrown up when Mark had suggested the idea. “You did? She was with a man?”

“Yeah, Junseo what’s-his-name. Didn’t give a last name, though.” Doyoung sounds concentrated, probably too focussed on not breaking Jaehyun’s new coffee machine. “Jaehyun, coffee?”

“No,” Jaehyun deadpans. “I want death.”

The entire room groans at that. “Fresh out of death, dude,” Johnny tells him, bowing over the couch to throw a blanket over where Jaehyun was laying and Mark had fallen asleep. Johnny was his best friend in the entire world, and very used to Jaehyun’s antics. Throughout it all(the acclimatization to the celebrity life, the growing into a fully formed and actualized person in the public eye, the stabbing ache of heartbreak), Johnny had become a brother to him. It was Johnny’s hand pulling him along through life, his ears that were entrusted with every joy and worry in Jaehyun’s mind, his kindness that kept Jaehyun standing sometimes. “It’s coffee or nothing,” he continues after ensuring both men on the couch were covered with the blanket. And then, as he turns back to Doyoung: “Make him some coffee. He hasn’t touched his cocoa.”

The quiet bickering of his friends fade away then, forcing him to come to terms with what has happened. Seeing your face again felt like being struck down by God, to put it in blasphemous terms. You had always been the most beautiful person to him, including both his preference that came from loving you and his attraction to people in general. Jaehyun hadn’t been the kind of man to have an exact type before meeting you, but now he looks for you in every smile, every fluttering lash, in every face he meets. Looking for the traces of where your ancestors had painted their magic, the overarching connection between several generations, the hand reaching across time. Whoever crafted you had taken his time to ensure every single detail, and the love that had flowed into the shaping of you glinted across every feature. Having been starved of seeing you, this interaction had thrown him into cold water face first. Even the memory stung.

You hadn’t looked bothered to see him. If anything, you had been as sweet as always, even though you hadn’t expected to see him. He had thought being gone from your side had hurt, but seeing that Junseo was making him sick to the stomach. It was his job to make you laugh like that. It was his duty to ensure your happiness. To think of that fool doing it in his stead made him spark up with a fury that he had long forgotten, the feeling so unfamiliar it made him reach inside those spaces inside himself that he had abandoned for so long. During the separation every emotion had come to him so dull and muted - happiness, sadness, surprise, anger. But as if they had never left him, Jaehyun recognized that he was jealous.

Awfully jealous.

So that was the next step of Jaehyun’s alternative five stages of grief process. Instead of coming to terms with the ephemeral nature of his relationship with you, he’s pining over the one woman he cannot have. He raises his hands to cover his face, his fingers shaking - it’s crazy, how you unravel him. It’s been eight months and Jaehyun is still willing to go on his knees to beg just to make sure you stop seeing anyone else.

(At that point, he was very unaware of how near in the future that was going to happen.)

“Hey, dude.” Jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by the raspy voice of one Mark Lee. He lowers his hands to see Mark peaking his head out of the blanket, hair completely ruined from tossing and turning in his sleep, looking just like the lion that his friends affectionately nickname him as. Their friends are still bickering in the kitchen, arguing about how to handle the coffee machine properly, with Doyoung’s voice cutting through the others. “You alright over there?”

Jaehyun clears his voice. He suddenly feels glad that Mark doesn’t know yet that he’s seen you, as he doesn’t want to burden Mark with his worries. He’s only a little younger, but he’s the closest thing to a younger sibling Jaehyun has, and he treasures him to the point where he often wants to shield him from the shit that Jaehyun has going on. “Yeah, all good. Why did you wake up? Not sleepy anymore?”

“Your phone has been going off like crazy.” Mark points at the aforementioned phone before yawning. As Jaehyun reaches for the device, he sits up and looks into the kitchen from the vantage point he has of the kitchen. The screen lights up after a few quick taps, and Mark asks: “Something important? Sounds like someone’s spamming you.”

dk 😁

not to be the bearer of bad news but mom wants to have you over for dinner on saturday

😭 maybe i shouldnt have delivered your greetings bro

i think my sister has a date on that evening tho so maybe nothing will happen?????

i mean you can say no but you know damn well my mom loves you (because you kiss up to her) so

yeah

i get if you dont want to

Jaehyun blinks. Several times. Then, he drops his face into his hands again, sighing so loudly that even Mark seems astonished.

It seems like you’re not gonna leave his mind anytime soon.

The first time Jaehyun had met you, you had still been a junior in college.

He’s always known you existed, of course - the pretty-faced little sister that was off-limits to anyone, who had the most embarrassing haircut when she was still in middle school, who liked to receive flowers for her birthday instead of gifts. Seokmin doesn’t talk about you often, but when he does, there’s a gentle smile etched on his face that seems like the most jarring contrast to the way he bickers and fights with you in person. Jaehyun couldn’t conjure an image of you, but when he thought of your name, it filled Jaehyun’s mind with a sweet dream. He had been missing you in his heart before he had even met you, the soft tug of a red string around his littlest finger.

The request had been hastily asked and innocent in nature. Pick up my sister, please? An unusual request, as Seokmin never introduced his sister to anyone for your own privacy, but it didn’t bother Jaehyun to do it, especially since DK was a very good friend. You had been incredibly drunk, and uncomfortable at a party, and called for the person you trust most in the world. DK on the other hand, drunk out of his own mind at an entirely different party in his own dorm shared with his bandmates, had called a friend he knew he could entrust with the safety of his littlest sister.

Completely hammered and wobbling on your entirely too high heels, you had gladly clung to Jaehyun’s arm after realizing he had been the savior your brother had sent you. Your introduction came out loud and clear, and you had enunciated every syllable to make sure he heard it. When he correctly repeated the name back to you to ensure he remembered it, a dazzling smile had split across your lips in the cutest way possible. It had made his heart jump in a deliciously agonizing way.

“Can you walk?” he had asked you then, pointing down at your monstrous heels. He had truth be told been incredibly impressed with the way you had managed to leave the front porch of the party house, even though every step enunciated that you were incredibly intoxicated. You had waved off his worry and beamed at him with the innocent happiness only a drunk person could exude, completely free from all wordly burdens. “Don’t worry!” you told him, your voice as melodious as it was pleasing. “I’ve walked in worse heels! And I’m not even that drunk!”

Jaehyun had no intention of questioning you, but the exclamation did make him laugh. He had been awkward about the interaction the entire time he had driven here. Would you be able to even feel comfortable with him? What if you guys didn’t speak about anything? But your behavior had loosened up the tension inside his chest, and he found himself relaxing under your hold, gently guiding you back to his car. Your grip was tight, but not painful, and you had hooked your arm around his to keep close to him in a way that wasn’t entirely unwelcome to him. He had not expected to warm up to you so quickly. “So you’re able to hold your liquor? You must not actually be related to DK then. The guy can’t hold his liquor for shit.”

The joke tugged a surprised laugh out of you. It was a nice sound, the genuineness of it making a smile form around Jaehyun’s lips. So open, so friendly, so extroverted - so incredibly different from him, and yet a simple laugh from you made Jaehyun entranced with the existence of you. He wanted to relish the sound, making him wrap his fingers around the keys in his pockets to ensure they wouldn’t rattle when he pulled them out. “I’m sure he’s got that from mom,” you had explained to him while snickering, momentarily letting go from him as he opened the door for you. After clambering in and pulling the door shut, he had walked around the car to climb in himself. The door clicked shut. “I’m my father’s daughter through and through. We used to place bets at New Year’s parties with the family how much time it would take for mom to crash out after a single bottle of champagne.”

“And?” he asks. The engine of the car sprung to life with a simple press of a button, idling quietly while Jaehyun had put on his seatbelt. “Did you win the bet?”

Your expression in the rearview mirror was smug when Jaehyun checked his surroundings in it, pulling out of the parking space he had found near the house the party was in. “I was fifty bucks richer about half an hour later.”

Jaehyun couldn’t help but laugh - at your behavior, your teasing little remarks, the way you hiccuped before laughing because you were a little liar that couldn’t hold their liquor. By the time he had reached DK’s apartment building, where you had requested to be dropped off because you wanted to sleep over at your brother’s, your drunkenness had made you drowsy. Without even thinking about it, you had climbed over the console to envelop Jaehyun in a hug, shocking him to the core. Your floral perfume had been dizzying, but the near proximity of you had almost made him drunk himself. Jaehyun was an idol under the strict gaze of both his employer and his supporters. His resulting touch-starvation had made him grasp your soft waist with both hands, and he closed his eyes to soak in the warmth of your touch. It was startingly intimate. “Thank you for bringing me home,” you had murmured against his shoulder, momentarily resting your head on it, as if it belonged there - as if you had been made to be held by him. You lined up perfectly, like puzzle pieces, and for a moment, Jaehyun had felt complete in a way that made him question himself was my heart always hollow of you?

When you pulled back with your bright smile and your hazy eyes, a pink blush had dusted across Jaehyun’s cheeks that he prayed you hadn’t noticed. “You’re super duper nice,” you proclaimed then, not fully retracting from where you were leaning on his body. Not pushing his hands away, either. “And it’s way more fun to ride in your car than in Jeonghan’s. You drive like a responsible adult.”

“Are you saying Jeonghan doesn’t drive like a responsible adult?”

“I’m not sure he knows what that is.” Giggling, you untangled yourself from him, startling Jaehyun with the immediate ache for you. Get a grip, he thought to himself. Acting like a teenage virgin. “And I should know!” you enunciated. “The idiot tried teaching me how to drive. If DK hadn’t put an end to that, I would have never gotten my driver’s license.”

Jaehyun, still reeling from the affection you had graced him with, smiled shyly at that. “Well, I’m glad to have brought you home safe, like the responsible adult I am. Can you make it up on your own?”

You “mhm”ed loudly, noisily maneuvring yourself out of the car. Jaehyun winced quietly when the heels of your shoes clacked against the pavement harshly, almost sure one had broken. But you had straightened up with a grin, waving stupidly, shouting loud “thank-you”s and “get home safe!”s as he watched you walk into the apartment complex, running into your drunk brother and almost-brothers (as his bandmates liked to title themselves as, loving you like you were one of their own).

He had sat and waited for a long time for his erratic heart to slow down again. You were a miracle he hadn’t been waiting for, like a sudden blessing after a fervent prayer. He went to sleep thinking of your name, finally being able to connect it with a face, the yearning following him into his dreams.

It was that same yearning that woke him up in the middle of the night now, reaching for the empty bedside, remembering where you were.

Remembering that you weren’t reaching for him anymore, no matter how much you had loved him.

Jaehyun cleans up nicely, when he wants to. When he checks his reflection in the camera app one last time before ringing the door, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. Johnny’s girlfriend had helped him put on a little bit of make-up to cover the black shadows under his eyes and wished him luck, although he wasn’t sure what he needed the luck for. To see you? Not to see you? The question had been eating away at him on the way here, making his hands sweat to the point that the driver’s wheel had looked kind of disgusting afterwards. He can’t shake the cold fear that accompanies the thought of you these days. The desire to be in your presence was a knife turning in his guts, so sharp that even the pain seemed more welcome than another day without you. As he closes his eyes, he imagines you opening the door, welcoming him home, kissing all the exhaustion away. But when the door opens up after knocking at it, the sweet face of your mother receives him.

Not that the sight isn’t welcome. Jaehyun sees his mother often enough to not have to miss her, but the need for a motherly presence never truly leaves you, no matter how old you are. There is a part of him that will always be a child, reaching for his parents’ hands, knowing he will be safe there. Your mother fills that space often when his own cannot. “Jaehyunnie! I’m glad you made it, sweetling,” your mother gushes, hurrying to clasp his hands. The sight of her red, marred hands makes his heart hurt - has she been overworking herself? - but the pain is soon replaced with a gentle warmth spreading inside his chest at her motherly clucking. “Hurry inside, we made your favorite! You still like spicy pork, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He removes his shoes before stepping inside, feeling nostalgic. The first time he had met your parents, the house had been newly bought and hardly acquired, with your parents having haggled for an appropriate price for months. Over the years, the building had been renovated, filled with furniture, and changed as more and more memories had been made in this place. To see it now standing proudly and lived in made him happy, but also sad, as he wasn’t fully part of that experience anymore.

“Don’t be silly, boy! You know you call me mom here!”

“Yes, mom.”

“Mom,” rings out the complaining voice of Seokmin then. He’s standing at the foot of the stairs. His voice had been petulant, but there’s a very big grin on his face as Jaehyun approaches him in greeting, and they hug each other without hesitation. DK had seen him go through enough shit to not have to shy back from physical affection. “Don’t nag with Jaehyun before he’s properly inside. How’s it going, J? I heard your new album, it was awesome!”

Your mother nods enthusiastically. “You are hard-working as always, Jaehyunnie! The songs sound beautiful!”

Jaehyun laughs, bashful. He feels awkward and happy at once, to be complimented upon for his talents while simultaneously knowing that most of those songs had been written with you in mind. “Thank you for saying that,” he answers.

“It’s only right,” your mother tuts then. As she turns to walk back in the kitchen, she opens her mouth to say something again, but there’s another knock at the door, startling them all. The three exchange glances, both Seokmin and your mother seeming surprised by the noise. “Are you expecting someone, Seokminnie?” When DK shakes his head no in answer, she walks back to the door, humming to herself in confusion. “Maybe your father? But he’s not supposed to get off work until 8.”

Before your mother even opens the door, the dread of who could possibly be standing in front of that door tells Jaehyun what to expect. And as he turns over that assumption in that mind, the door opens to reveal you, clad in a red dress that hugs your curves and exposes your mid-thigh. “Oh, sweetie!” your mother exclaims. “But what are you doing here? Aren’t you going to dinner with that Junseo-ssi?”

You don’t answer, your eyes locked onto him. He recognizes the sight of slight panic and confusion in your eyes - apparently, DK hadn’t told you that you were visiting in the hopes that you wouldn’t see each other anyways. Although barely a second passes, it feels like eternity as you take each other in.

Fuck, you’re as beautiful as the day he lost you. He doesn’t even register that your mother is still chattering away as he drinks in the sight of you, the sinful silhouette and the angel eyes that have been accentuated by a skilled hand and your favorite eyeliner pen. The blood rushes in his veins, filling his ears with the sound of waves crashing, his desire lapping higher and higher until it makes his chest hurt. “Mom,” you manage to say. “He was called into work at the last minute. It’s pretty awkward to be the only one all dolled up here, so may I go up and change please? And not have to make awkward small talk in the salon?”

“Of course, sweetling, just go up! Seokmin will help me with the last preparations for dinner.” Your mother leaves at that, and the three adults remaining are crushed by the awkward tension in the room. Even more awkward for the third wheel in the room is that neither of both you and Jaehyun have looked away from each other ever since you walked in, and DK takes the chance to quietly slip out of the room to join his mother in the kitchen, leaving Jaehyun to his doom.

(Traitor.)

Jaehyun breathes out, struggling to fill his lungs with the air he needs. “You look stunning,” he says, his voice straining to pronounce the words. It’s pathetic how much he wants to press you against that wall and devour you. Even though his inner adult yells at him that he isn’t yours anymore, the thoughts do not stop coming. Truthfully, there can’t be any scientific explanation for how fast his heart races because of you, but it keeps on beating, jumping out of his chest. Falling to your feet.

You finally step out of the doorframe, into the house itself. The door quietly falls into the lock. You reach down to unclasp your high heels, the movement mechanic. You seem as dazed as he is. He entertains the possibility whether he has the same effect on you as you do on him, but he casts the thought aside immediately. You had left him, after all. “Thank you,” you answer, your voice meek. As if you were to strangers. “Are you … doing well?”

I hope that despite the way I’m ending things, you will be well. I pray that you are healthy, that you are eating enough, that you flourish in your career as you deserve to be. You are outstanding, Jeong Jaehyun, a flaming star lighting up the sky. I pray that you find it in yourself to forgive me.

“Well?” he echoes, as if that word was a joke. And then, almost in disbelief, he asks back, “Are you?”

You lower your gaze then. “I finish my master’s degree this year, so I’m a little stressed. But aside from that, I am fine, thank you for asking.” You straighten up, intending to walk past him. But Jaehyun, as if possessed, grabs your wrist; the touch makes both of you shudder, and you look up to see the absolute yearning in his eyes staring back at you. He doesn’t really know what made him do it, and he seems as shocked as you are; he had been thinking more quickly than he had been moving, and his muscles spasmed from the lack of communication between his nerves and his brain.

It’s written across his face, it must be. The intense wish to bow his head and lean against you, cage you against the railing of the stairs. To make you reach inside his soul and connect the broken pieces there that were the remaining shards of his heart. Jaehyun doesn’t want anyone else in the world to see inside him like that. He wants you, he wants to be your boyfriend. Despite it all. The good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. Are you well? Jaehyun’s hand slips lower, interlocking your fingers, the physical connection there setting fire to the skin. I pray that you are. “Take care of yourself,” he tells you instead of all the words that have been left unsaid ever since you abandoned him, all the tears that he has shed. He wants to tell you how his pride for your success makes him fly higher than any of his own achievements ever would, how soft his heart feels at the fact that you are so close to reaching your goals. How much he wishes to be a part of supporting you towards that. But he doesn’t.

You don’t break free of his hold, but it seems clear that you do not reciprocate the hurricane of emotions he is feeling right now. “You shouldn’t say that,” you tell him, tone polite, but your voice sounds hesitant. He wants to kiss the hesitation out of you, eat your laughter as he tugs at your lower lip. The proximity is driving him crazy. “I mean, I don’t wanna be rude. But I am seeing Junseo. You don’t have to worry about me, Jae. Jaehyun.” You cough awkwardly, as if that can erase the affectionate nickname, as if there isn’t something inside you still calling for him. You step backwards. If hitting the railing is embarrassing to you, you don’t let it show.

He lets go of you and steps back, then silently watches you go up the stairs. Your soft shuffling as you walk back to your room. The decisive shutting of a door.

Silently dreaming of what would happen if you graced him with your attention again.

The dinner itself is uneventful. You make polite conversation, thankfully sitting diagonally away from him, wedged in between your mother and your brother, whom Jaehyun sits across. But he sees the blush never truly leaving your face, and the way you throw glances at him when you think he isn’t paying attention. It makes him delusional enough to imagine that maybe, he wasn’t the only one still thinking about their ex.

Jaehyun glances down at his cleared plate, a half smile curling at his lips. Not truly a real smile. But not truly a lie, either.

@leey/n has started following you on Instagram!

@leey/n has liked a post!

The third time your paths cross, you truly think you are about to go crazy.

This is an art gallery, for crying out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jaehyun in a museum. Not that he’s uneducated or disinterested, mind you, but Jaehyun was the kind of guy to take you to places where you could etch your own memories across the place. The arcade in Busan where you won your first ever plushie and promptly gifted it to him, for one; the trip to Jeju where you had almost fainted and scared the shit out of Jaehyun; the high-end restaurant in Gangnam where you both can never let your face be seen again after having been thrown out for laughing too loud. You had spoken about the particular art gallery here once, debating about attending an event that was held in that month, but ultimately had the decision taken out of your hands after you unexpectedly had to go the hospital due to your appendix bursting. But here he was, looking like the most ravishing man alive in that stupid suit.

It should be forbidden to look that good. Genuinely. You think your heart stops momentarily when you see him, and then again when your gaze involuntarily drops to the exposed skin of his chest, displaying the vulnerable area due to the v-cut of his suit jacket. Hell. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was doing this on purpose.

You gather up the train of your dress and hurry over before anyone can recognize either him or you. He looks startled, and then that weird flash of desperation flits across his eyes before he hastily makes himself appear composed. You don’t for the life of you know why exactly his reaction to you is like that, but you suppose the time for complaining was over, since, you know, you broke up with him. You knew it had been a bitch move to write a letter, but you couldn’t exactly tell him the true reason to his face. Hey, I know this sounds stupid, but I’m afraid of ruining your career because netizens keep shit talking our relationship and tainting your reputation, have a nice day though!

No, he’d never understand. This was for the best. He’d been so close to completing his album, so proud of what he had achieved, and the grief of almost taking that away from him made you want to throw up. So you had decided to sacrifice yourself, in an as cowardly manner as possible.

No one would ever know that Jeong Jaehyun made your soul sing in the most exquisite way possible, and that your heart had been filled with so much joy that it almost burst. No one needed to know.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss at him. You turn your head to ensure that no one is actually looking, before tugging him to the side. Almost unconsciously, you take his hand and guide him to a different spot, a quiet corner where only strangers were staring at the art being displayed. Even the music was muted.

“Is this not a public event?” he hisses back, confused by your behavior. But he lets you do as you please, even lowering his head to yours to make sure no one hears. His fingers gently tangle with yours, swiping across your knuckles as he always does - did. It’s like your love runs deeper than human behavior, deeply embedded in your body’s instincts. You see it in the way the caution you display reflects back in his eyes, as if your secrets are still holier to him than his own. Even though he has no idea why you’re being so ominous. It’s one of the qualities you love most about Jaehyun; he never once tries to tell you what to do, always acquiescing your needs, letting you take the lead when necessary. It makes a traitorous happiness bloom inside your chest that he is still the kind of person who would always have your back. “Why exactly wouldn’t I be here? If it’s because you didn’t want to see my face, don’t tell me that. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Jeong Jaehyun,” you groan, exasperated as you are. You hastily scan the area, always dreading that Junseo is about to turn the corner to catch you both. It had already been a surprise that evening had been made possible, since Junseo was a workaholic. Your friends joked around that he loves his residency at Seoul General Hospital first, and you second. You did not want to squander this opportunity of growing closer to him, a whim based on the fact that he was a pretty face and you desperately needed to move on. You weren’t serious, and you could count the amount of dates you had been on on one hand, but it worked its magic enough. Jaehyun only needed to believe that you were moving on. And Junseo only needed to believe Jaehyun was unimportant. Not like it’s forbidden to speak with an “acquaintance”, even if he did see you both here - but Jeong Jaehyun wasn’t an acquaintance, he was your ex-boyfriend for crying out loud, and if it weren’t for the necessary masquerade to appear as if you were moving on, you wouldn’t even be entertaining Junseo’s presence, no matter how charming he was. It was a stupid plan, concocted by an even more stupid Jeonghan. “Who would’t want to see your face? That’s not what I mean.”

The compliment slips out before you can hold it back. It’s so easy, so habitual to make it, to admire Jeong Jaehyun’s existence. You had never even met a man like him. He was sin made flesh, with his well-formed, strong body, the gorgeous face, the sun-kissed hair that switched colors from comeback to comeback. Jaehyun looks surprised to hear it. The dimples in his cheeks signal the smile that stretches across his lips, sweet and genuine and startled. It makes you sad, that he doesn’t expect those compliments; he is the kindest, sincerest, most attentive man you know.

(And if you were still in a relationship, you would have torn the clothes off of him and jumped him for looking that good in a suit. Not want to see his face my ass - you could stare at Jeong Jaehyun all day.)

“I thought we weren’t supposed to say stuff like that,” he says back, his voice low. It sounds deliciously rough, the way it sometimes sounded when you woke him from his sleep to kiss him, the sleepy yawns turning into soft moans when you rode him, his hands mapping out the space of your skin. You shake your head, as if you can shake off the memory. Your adoration for him went bone-deep. “Whatever,” you say hastily, as if that can erase the obvious pining you are displaying. “I mean, I don’t want Junseo to see us. I know you don’t like to lie, and I’m sorry for introducing you as an acquaintance, but I’d like it to remain that way. For him to believe there was nothing between us, I mean.”

“And is there?” Jaehyun’s voice sounds steady. It kills you to see the hope in his eyes, even now, even after you’ve hurt him after flaunting a new relationship. You remember his beautiful face on that day at the Christmas market, where the agony in his eyes had almost made you weep. You never ever wanted to be responsible for Jaehyun’s grief, not even now. “Nothing between us?”

You falter then, forgetting what you want to say. You can’t tell him the truth, you cannot - the truth being that when you look into Jaehyun’s eyes, your knees go weak and your hands yearn to claw at him and your kisses want to devour him whole, bones and all. You want to crawl inside him and live there forever, like the insane lover you are. You want to kiss him until you forget your own name, until the mornings become routine where you wake up next to him, where the sight of his beautiful face becomes the first thing you see after waking up for the rest of your life. The wish is so fervent it catches you off-guard, and it weakens your resolve. “There’s nothing, Jaehyun,” you say. Even you can hear the uncertainty. The atmosphere is so tense that you didn’t even notice the room has cleared out; the area is curtained off, a special exhibition inside the actual exhibition, for a yet-to-be-discovered artist who gained the space to present their art through chance. The few people who had mingled here had quietly left, identifying the situation as a lover’s spat. Anyone could walk in. Anyone. The realization makes your heart skip a beat. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Your words make sense, yet your actions don’t. You unconsciously inch closer to him. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t. “You’re confusing me,” Jaehyun responds, sounding frustrated, but when his hands find your waist, his touch is careful. Gentle. Like a collector in awe of the precious rare item he has found. “I thought you hated my guts. You know, that’s the kind of interpretation a break-up letter entails.”

“Jaehyun,” you whisper. You want to rip his hands off, leave him here to come to terms with the realization that this relationship is over. It had been such a difficult situation, and so painful; to rip the band-aid off in the manner that you did. You hadn’t even told Jeonghan about the reason you broke it off, so afraid of the consequences, yet more afraid of the repercussions of your relationship to Jaehyun’s career. You needed to tell him off now, before you do something you would regret. You do none of these things, however. You let Jeong Jaehyun cradle your face in the middle of the gallery as if nothing has changed and the two of you are eternal and you have never been apart. Something inside of you reaches for his soul, across the gaping abyss that forced mythological Orpheus and Eurydice apart. You let him bring your face close enough that he can press his cheek against yours, mimicking Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss hanging in the hall outside. A sweet irony. It had always been your favorite painting, and you know there was a copy of it hanging in Jaehyun’s living room, bought by you for an anniversary long past. His lips trace the lines of your cheekbones, feeding the selfish ache inside you that is always desperate for Jaehyun. “It doesn’t matter. I’m with a different man.”

The answer makes Jaehyun draw in a sharp breath, but his ministrations continue on; as if his love for you was an instinct he was chasing after unconsciously. His lips trail a burning path across your face, his fingers curling at your nape. Lulling you in. Entrancing you. “At the risk of sounding like an asshole - I don’t care,” he murmurs against your skin, the words reverberating in your blood. “I would give anything for being able to touch you like this. Even if this is the last time.”

You screw your eyes shut. Even if this is the last time. Almost mechanically, you raise your arms to draw him against you, your bodies lining up perfectly; you had always secretly enjoyed how well you guys fit together. A perfect match. When you had dropped him off at that airport, you had been robbed of truly saying goodbye to him. Coming home late, almost oversleeping and missing his flight, riding in separate cars because the staff had piled into the seats of which at least one should have been reserved for you. You couldn’t even kiss him goodbye - you had let go of Jaehyun with a heavy heart, a mind full of anxieties turning over all the threats you had received not only digitally, but now even physically, and with a mouth full of lies. This is the last time. You look up at the same time as Jaehyun decides to throw all caution against the wind, bowing his head to inch closer. “Let me kiss you, please,” he whispers, the desperation in his voice so heady it makes you feel drunk. “May I kiss you?”

You draw in a sharp, shuddering breath, and murmur your assent. As if this had been a decision and not a stabbing, sharp need below your chest. “Yes. Yes, Jaehyun.”

Your lips meet his halfway, although meet is the wrong words. It’s a crash and burn, two stars folding around one another and exploding in a supernova; there is nothing human about the way Jaehyun hungrily devours the surprised gasp you let out. His kiss is all fire and blood and teeth, the messy clacking of two people who had been made to love each other once and then cut apart by fate. Your hastily sucked in breaths keep getting interrupted every time Jaehyun kisses you again, and again, and again. It’s a sweet torture, and a productive one. By the time he has dragged you against a wall you are lightheaded and out of it, your skin prickling with the feeling of Jaehyun mapping out his way. “Oh sweetheart,” he sighs out against your collarbone, his teeth painting markings across your chest. You barely even register him falling to his knees. “I could die tomorrow and be a happy man.”

“What are you doing?” You ask him, dazed. Your hands find his shoulders (has he become even broader? You seriously need to have a talk with Johnny and the gym routine he forces Jaehyun through). Despite your confusion, your body remembers Jaehyun. You barely even think about following his guidance, complying almost immediately when he taps against your waist so that you raise your leg and angle it over his shoulder. The belated realization makes you blush heavily; your addled mind cannot keep up with your body’s compliance. “Jeong Jaehyun! Are you insane?”

You intended to sound fierce and reprimanding, but when you finally look down to meet his gaze, your knees almost buckle. Jaehyun looks like a man starved, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, the irises blown wide to ensure every detail of you is burned into his recollection. He looks like a worshipper, and his hands move across the supple flesh of your thighs as if in prayer. Blasphemous and heavenly. And incredibly dangerous. You can still hear the loud chatter of the other guests behind the curtain, just across the room. The nervousness makes your veins thrum. “Baby,” he says, sounding genuinely disbelieving. “Do you honestly think I won’t use this chance to taste you one last time? I don’t know what made you tolerate me suddenly, but I am not going to be the idiot that ruins the opportunity. You’ll let me go down on you, won’t you, sweetheart?”

The term of endearment makes you all fuzzy-minded and giddy. “I … yes … But anyone could walk in…” you nervously start, and yet you angle your hips forward so that Jaehyun can tug down your black lace panties, barely noticing that he tucks them inside his suit pockets. “And we’re not supposed to … I mean, I shouldn’t …. Jesus, Jae!”

In the middle of your feeble attempt of climbing back to the moral highground, Jaehyun had positioned himself right at your core; your hands fumble to hold on to his shoulders before he kisses your vulva way too innocently for a man who’s currently going down on you in the middle of a public art gallery. You barely remember to lean back against the wall for support before Jaehyun dives in like you are the last meal he is ever permitted to have on this earth, and he is determined to make it last.

You bite back a cry when Jaehyun finally laps at you, the torturous kitten lick lighting your entire body aflame with want. Although Jaehyun immediately follows it up by generously sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves, you cast aside all pretense of decorum due to your greed and dig your fingers in his hair to direct him closer, much closer, and Jaehyun moans. The sound is so delicious it makes your veins burn with desire, the physical pain of craving him running almost hotter than your need to be pleasured. Keyword almost. You wanted to come all over his mouth just for that delicious fucking noise, but your stomach was tensing up, the quick arousal accomplished by the serious lack of sex and masturbation that the past few months had been for you. Jaehyun’s hands claw at your knees, climbing to your thighs, forcing your legs wide open to welcome his fingers where he drags them across your all-too-welcoming entrance. “So wet,” he groans against your core, and you whimper at the vibration, bucking against his lips. Even though he loves to run his mouth during sex, he gets it to work anyways. Jaehyun laps up your sweetness as it drips down, his thumb flicking at your sensitive spots until he has you keening and tearing at his hair. “God, sweetheart, look at what a mess you’re making. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Jaehyun,” you gasp when he finally dives his tongue into you, the muscle pumping in mock-fashion of what he would love to do to you. The compliments are doing insane things to you and your heart, your poor heart that is going to cling to this moment forever. While Jaehyun’s fingers work their magic, your own begin to spasm, pulling and tearing at him. Submitting to you and your feral hunger he finally adds a finger, his right hand busy with fingering you while his left hands continues to trace circles over your clitoris. The sudden penetration has you remembering that his own digits are way longer than yours, the memory accompanying the sensation of him reaching further and further until he finds the right spot that has you bowing over him with a loud moan. This is what you missed, what you were imagining when you were daydreaming about sex, daydreaming about the godly way Jaehyun pounded you into the mattress. He knows he’s got you now, speeding up his ministrations at every noise you make. You screw your eyes shut with a bone-deep shudder, the sweet tension inside your abdomen pulling tighter and tighter in a familiar tell-tale sign. “Jaehyun, slow down, fuck!”

He’s curling his fingers, eager for your approval, hungry for more noises - through your blurry eyes, you realize he’s watching you through it all, the gaze of a predator. Not once does he look away, continuing his sweet song of praise. “So beautiful,” he coos against your pussy, pressing close so he can speak the words into your skin, your soul. In your state, it almost sounds like Jaehyun is the only thing in your world, and hasn’t it always been? The miracle in your life that you surrendered all your worship to? You lurch forward when he sucks your clit into his mouth, seeing white for a second, the stimulation becoming too much. “Keep looking at me, please. Wanna watch you when you come.”

“I…. can’t!” you manage to babble, realizing you are edging closer to your climax. You’ve never once been this quick, not with anyone but with Jaehyun; the only man in your life that knew every inch of you, the very shape of your soul. Your body is as familiar to him as the back of your hand; more familiar to him than his own self. Jaehyun is too impatient to deal with your arguments, though. “You can,” he hisses against you, dragging his fingers more fervently. Your warm walls tighten around them, hungrily trying to keep them in, to keep going. The sudden clenching around his fingers makes it difficult. “Look at me and cum or you won’t get to cum at all, I swear it.”

That’s all it takes for you to finally let go, almost weeping with the overwhelming pleasure. Your orgasm washes over you almost too violently, forced on by Jaehyun’s overstimulation as he keeps going and going and going, and by the time you push him off your sensitive pussy there are tears falling from your eyes. But you drag him close and kiss him, kiss him so hard you think he’s going to bruise, and Jaehyun lets you; it is much sweeter and patient than the beginning of the altercation, so sweet on your tongue it has you melting against Jaehyun. This is it, that adrenaline you kept chasing; true, painful, but worth it love. You feel too sensitive and too aware and too alight, but you wrap your arms around him all the same, as if you can keep him forever. Your kisses reach inside of him, desperate for connection, heavy with the longing that had accompanied you everywhere ever since you left him. You think you were born to love Jeong Jaehyun, and you kiss him as if you are Eve reaching for the forbidden apple - knowing it’s wrong, wanting it anyway. You want and you want and you want. Your hands are on his soft cheeks, dragging against his shoulders, careless, loving. You love Jeong Jaehyun, love him so much that your very existence is exploding from the inherent triumph that accompanied witnessing him.

You think you would gladly go to hell for tasting divinity on Jaehyun’s lips. You’d rather be a sinner than apart from him for being a saint.

When you finally tear away from him, Jaehyun’s lips are swollen(your heart almost fails at the sheer pleasure that sight gives you). He lets you drag your thumb across the kiss-stained lip, wiping away the lipstick, tracing his jawline. “Such a beautiful face,” you tell him, watching as he preens from the affection. Your heart to yearns to give him more, but you finally force yourself to step away before you die from the overdosis that is Jaehyun. He watches you, completely out of it. “This is the last time,” you remind him. The lie comes so easily now, even though you are trying to memorize his gorgeous face, tattooing it across your mind palace. You will never forget this, no matter what illness or loss comes for you. Not Jeong Jaehyun. “The last time, okay, Jae?”

You place your hand over his heart, and he places his own above it. For a moment, the situation feels eternal. You were in love and you were both idiots, but it was okay because you were handling it together. Because you would face all the challenges together. Because you would work towards a future together. But the spell is broken soon, and you make the first step back, biting your lip at the sadness resurfacing in his eyes. Jaehyun, you think. The only man you’ve ever entrusted your heart with like this.

“Okay,” he finally answers, helpless. He holds on to your hand, though, making the last few steps to follow you before he is forced to let you go. You turn back at the last second before you enter the main hall, just to see if he is looking away, but there he stands, watching you.

His face is forlorn, softened by his quiet sadness, and your heart breaks again. You leave him there before you can do something else you regret.

When Jaehyun had fallen in love you, he knew he was in for some deep shit.

Picking you up had become a natural habit now. You had long since stopped calling your brother and instead resorted to texting Jaehyun first. It felt like an honor, to be entrusted with your care. That you’ve started to know him in a way that makes you rely on him. Picking you up had led to late-night-drives to sober you up, late-night-drives had turned into a shared breakfast the next morning when Jaehyun was worried about you having hangovers, and fussing over you had turn into regular meet-ups because Jaehyun could no longer deny that what he craved was not reassurance of your well-being, but you in person.

He remembered one morning where he had slept over after a particularly nasty crash-out. You had been laughing and weeping incoherently, your friend Karina aiding him with the information that you had failed your exam and drowned yourself in booze. He had texted DK a “FYI, your sister’s puking her guts out in my apartment” after deciding his home was closer than yours and you wouldn’t last long enough to throw up in your own toilet, before he had sat there with you and braided your hair back while you emptied out your entire stomach. The next morning, when he had woken up to you cuddled up to him still on the bathroom floor, he had carried you to his bed, tucked you in and walked into the kitchen to cook hangover soup, something he had mastered by this point due to the amount of times Mark had familiarized himself with that toilet just like you did last night. Having checked his phone, he read your brother’s only response: “LOL. didn’t even realize she left party”

You had wandered in shortly after, sleepy and pale like a ghost. The sound of your footsteps had startled Jaehyun, but his surprise had turned into a sudden happiness at the sight of your eyes lighting up when you saw him. The realization that his presence made you as happy as yours made him was invaluable. He loved the kind of person he was when you guys were together; existing felt like floating, a light cloud of pure contentment.

Even though there hadn’t been a lot of talking, you had both been deeply comfortable. That was the very first time he had kissed you; when you couldn’t stop singing his praises after claiming his soup was too tasty, he had simply leant over and shut you up himself. It was almost funny at how quickly you had dropped that spoon, tugging at his pyjama shirt to pull him closer, damn right pulling him over the counter. Not that he was complaining. He loved the way you made him feel, the way your touch made it feel like there were stars blooming below his skin. It made him feel like the brightest sun in the sky. “Why did you do that?” you had immediately asked when he finally pulled back. Jaehyun had cradled your face, realizing he was holding his entire world in the palm of his hand. “I just suddenly understood that I want to hold your hair back for you for the rest of my life,” he had admitted then, earning himself a slap to the shoulder. But you had laughed, that pure boisterous laugh that sparked with joy, and his heart had pounded in his chest: unable to handle the luck he was experiencing.

The mornings had blurred into days, the days into weeks, finally bleeding into the most happiest months of Jaehyun’s life. He’d never been cautious, but you had certainly made him braver. Sudden shenanigans in public, joking around entirely too loud during important events, having fun everywhere you guys were together. You had made him believe there were no honeymoon phases. Jaehyun woke and rose in the morning, and went to sleep in the dawn obsessed with you. There were rough patches, stressful and grieving periods when your private lives had been rocked particularly hard with a certain event, but he never once stopped adoring you. You were in every waking breath, every racing heartbeat.

Even now, as he wakes the day after your goodbye in the art gallery, he wakes up with the taste of hope in his mouth, of the shape of your heart on the tip of his tongue. He wakes still dreaming, always dreaming of you.

“So what you’re saying,” states Johnny, twirling a biscuit around in his coffee, “is that you had sex with your ex-girlfriend in a public museum, fully knowing she’s dating someone else.”

“Johnny,” comes the muffled response from where Jaehyun hides his face in his hands. It’s too beautiful of a day. It should be raining, to reflect Jaehyun’s mood, to encompass this entirely too awkward feeling of knowing Jaehyun was still in love with his ex. He had spent the entire morning racking his brain for ideas to get rid of the other man, feeling like Lana del Rey in her worst situationships. Jaehyun has reached a very new low, the kind of pathetic that makes him not care that he’s embarrassing himself by still being at your beck-and-call. “It wasn’t sex.”

Johnny waves the retort away. “Oral sex, then. Still sex.” The comment is too loud and earns Johnny some weirded-out looks, but the man looks completely unbothered. He had once watched Johnny talk about different sex positions completely seriously while standing in line for gelato in Little Italy, back when they had visited New York together. Johnny Suh did not know what shame was. “I never even knew you were freaky like that. Little exhibitionist freak. Maybe I underestimated you.”

“Johnny,” Jaehyun deadpanned. “Is this the time to be making jokes? Can we get to the point?”

“What point, dude? You basically went on your knees and asked her to take you back, and she didn’t. I didn’t realize you wanted me to throw salt into the wound.”

Jaehyun lowers his head to the tabletop, resting his too warm face against the metal surface. He doesn’t dare close his eyes, because the image of you is burned into his eyelids. He feels like an addict itching for a quick fix. It had been like this the entire week now. It was one thing to be ghosted by you and forced to move on by the lack of interaction, and another to be making out with you and getting his hopes up despite the fact you told him this was the last time. All it did was make him delusional enough to think he could convince you for it not to be. “She didn’t say no,” he tells Johnny, sounding pitiable even to him. “She just told me this had to be the last time.”

A few seconds pass before Jaehyun finally raises his head due to the lack of answer from his best friend. The look Johnny gives him tells him is answer enough, and Jaehyun pulls a grimace. He hadn’t expected of Johnny to be feeding into his delusions, but there had been some hope. Hope for you to call. Hope for you to come back. Hope for you to still want him.

You hadn’t unfollowed him yet; you hadn’t posted in days; and your brother has kindly snitched to him that you’ve even been blowing off Junseo. He knows you have finals coming up soon, but thinking rationally was something Jaehyun severely lacked at the moment. He had been entertaining the idea that the … meeting, for a lack of better words, in the museum had shaken you up as much as it did him. He kept replaying the memory in his head, the way your plush thighs had trapped him there on his knees, your pretty lips jutted in a pout, the tears falling from your eyes from the way he was making you feel so good … he almost felt himself get hard again, but quickly killed the boner by thinking of something else. “I just wish she’d be more clear,” he sighs out. At the sight of Johnny raising his eyebrows, he clarifies: “I mean that she’s playing hot and cold with me. I’m not stupid enough to not realize she does want to put an end to this. And yet she’s the one that followed me on Instagram, and kissed me, and made me fall all over again for her. I wasn’t doing well before I saw her again, but I was going somewhere.”

“Somewhere,” Johnny repeats, his tone mocking, but then he sets down the biscuit that had come with his coffee. This is what Jaehyun liked about him the most. He considered everything and thought about everything carefully before giving his honest opinion, and even though he sure as hell wasn’t unbiased, he still tried his best to be. “I guess,” Johnny concurs then. “I guess that’s true. I just think there must be a reason to this. I haven’t known her half as long as you do, but we were friends once, and she never once acted as irrationally as she did this past year.”

Jaehyun perked up at that. It was true, at least. In the weeks leading up to your break-up, as well as the months afterwards, you had been acting incredibly off, to the point that even your close ones had been questioning your case. He hadn’t realized how keen Johnny’s observations could be. “So you think she’s going through something that she couldn’t tell me?” he asks, his voice tentative.

Johnny shrugs. “That sounds like the most logical explanation to me. So you either hook up with her again and question her while you’re at it, or you start looking up ways to get rid of Junseo, I guess.” The suggestion makes Johnny’s face light up with excitement. “Dude, I actually always wanted to hire an assassin on the dark web. Do you think we can do that?”

“No, you idiot,” Jaehyun hisses back. But the gears in his head are already turning, chipping away at the past year, at your secret glances and your guilty letter and the sadness in your eyes when you had let him go. He had always thought that even though you had been decisive, you had at least been sad for not being able to love him in the way he deserved to be loved anymore. now he wonders how selfish he has been, and whether he should have been texting his ex all along instead of grieving what was.

Well. Jaehyun thought it couldn’t hurt to try.

Jeonghan sees him before you do.

It’s the way your best friend immediately starts cackling and turns back around to walk back into the library. You halt in your movements, looking at him imploringly. “Your ex, dude,” he tells you, visibly enjoying the way you immediately enter full-panic-mode. “You’re on your own.”

Your panicked “Hannie!” is drowned out by his snickers, and Jeonghan leaves you to your distress to pretend going to the bathroom. You met Jeonghan years ago, and even though he was older than you, you had become such fast friends that DK threatened to beat you guys up for laughing too loud whenever you were over at their dorms. He was your stupid older unnecessary brother that loved you more than anything, but he is also the most brutally honest one out of all of your friends. You do not go to Jeonghan for advice if you aren’t able to handle the truth. He cuts to the chase real quick and will call you out on your bullshit.

It’s also why he immediately told you that your plan wasn’t going to work out. “Let’s not pretend this is the most lovey-dovey you’ve ever been in your life,” Jeonghan had told you with a straight face. You wince at the memory; Jeonghan’s words are able to tear down buildings. “You love-love that man. You’re in deep, deep shit. Whatever it is you don’t want to tell me about, the thing that made you think up this idiotic plan in the first place, it won’t be able to amount to the feelings you have for him.”

Yes, you love-love him; you know just as much, and your heart sings with that knowledge. It pinches and tingles beneath your ribs, calling out a certain name. It rejoices at the sight of Jaehyun out there, in the rain, wearing not even a jacket but instead jeans and a hoodie that looks large even on him, and a bouquet in his hands. But you love him enough not to want to be selfish enough to endanger him.

The messages had blown up your instant message box for weeks then, each threat becoming more explicit. At first, you had resorted to deleting them. They were all the same at their core, anyways, the same hatred being spewed with different names. But then one persistent account had started attaching pictures to their messages, waking you up from the rose-tinted dream that was being in love with Jaehyun. Pictures of him at private events, including the other band members as well, even the youngest ones who were innocent. You hadn’t responded, but the fear had you making hasty plans; setting up everything carefully, writing the letter, while you prepared to leave Jaehyun in the most respectful way you could imagine because that is what you owed him. But then pictures of his own rented studio inside SM building had started popping up, a room you knew no one but Jaehyun and his aides should have access to, one single message with one ominous threat: Leave him or I’ll ruin the both of you. His life’s work being killed will be your fault.

Your lack of answer surely had made them furious.

You didn’t know whether to approach the managers, or even the police. Stalkers weren’t unheard of in the industry, one being caught and sued almost weekly by now, and Jaehyun had cycled through his fair share of them. No one had ever went for you in that way, though. You were certain that this wasn’t a singular threat, certain that this was someone who would pull out all stops to get rid of you. SM Entertainment was more tightly under lock and key than a literal jail. This person knew what they were doing. And so you did what you thought was right, at the cost of your own wellbeing. How much you had sacrificed and cried after distancing yourself from the man you considered your heart.

And yet here he was.

You shake the umbrella open before stepping out of the library, into the rain. In three quick strides, you’ve reached him. You try to convince yourself you’re just eager to be rid of him, but the corners of your lips quirk up way too happily for your brain to believe that. “Is this your equivalent of a boombox outside my window?” you question.

Jaehyun smiles, and it untangles the heavy knot of dread inside of you. The weather is awful, but you feel warm, spreading inside your chest like the soothing effects of medicine. “It kind of is,” he answers. He sounds like he is carefully weighing his words, but his voice is gentle. “I didn’t know which one your window was. And entering the building to go visit you in your apartment seemed creepy to even me.”

You tentatively reach out, brushing your fingers over the roses. They’re a deep red, plush and freshly bloomed. Expensive. Junseo has never even got you a three-dollar-bundle of flowers from the grocery store. “You know, I already have someone who’s giving me flowers,” you tell him, but the threat is empty. Every inch of you is bursting with happiness. Jaehyun is here, even though it’s the middle of the night and the weather is completely awful, just to give you roses.

(You never even make the connection someone must have told him you’re here. (DK was shitting himself for days in fear of you finding out he was the tattletale.)

Jaehyun hands you the bouquet, his hands covering your own as you grasp it. You watch him as he takes the opportunity to step closer to you, never once reprimanding him. His face is open and trusting, and the force of his loving gaze hits you right in the chest. “I know,” he retorts. “And the thought is killing me. It should be me. And so I will. I will keep buying you roses until you ask me to stop, sweetheart, because I don’t mind if you forget about me, but I was made to adore you. I can’t ignore my instincts.”

The confession does funny things to your heart, in a way that makes you beam at him for the first time in months. You haven’t smiled like this in so long, and your cheeks hurt from the lack of practise. Jaehyun, the damn fool; Jaehyun, the hopeless romantic; Jaehyun, the love of your life. “Killing you,” you muse, entertaining him. You are playing with fire, you realize, but you are coming to the understanding that even though you had made a decision for him in a completely unfair manner, because you felt threatened to do so, Jaehyun still chooses you. And he continues to choose you. He has respected your wishes, has kept his distance despite the grief you have caused him, and has only re-entered your life because you allowed him to do so. It was your own self-doubt about being the one for him that had forced your hand and made you not ask him for help about the threats; and despite the fact Jaehyun never understood why, he had still reassured you.

“Do you honestly mean that?” you ask him, even though you know what his answer will be. Even though your heart has always chosen him, this sweet boy who knew just what to say to cheer you up. Who listened when you talked. Who bought you gifts just because you mentioned liking some trinket in passing. Who remembers to kiss you every morning before you leave the house, even if it means dragging himself out of bed at 5am in the morning just to see you off because he knows he won’t see you the entire day. Who leaves little notes around the house for you to find when he is too busy to be with you. Jaehyun, your Jaehyun.

“I will always, always mean it,” he answers in the most earnest way possible. “I’ve been thinking about you all this time. I know how pathetic this sounds, but all this time, I kept envisioning you, and the thought of you kept me going even though I knew you weren’t a part of my life anymore. I like the person you made me become, sweetheart, and the way you have helped me shape my life into something I can be proud of. I just wish I had realized sooner that there was something bothering you - because there is, right?” His fingers gently squeeze yours in encouragement, and your little nod makes him press on. “I’m sorry,” he says, and surprises you. “I’m sorry for being so in love with your good and pure heart and failing to realize that it burdened you, despite how good and pure it was. You were going through something that you couldn’t handle, and I couldn’t see it, and I’m sorry.”

You tug at Jaehyun’s hands. His instantaneous, responding smile makes your heart skip a beat, and he lets you pull him down until you can press your lips to his soft, dimpled cheek. “You’re such a sore loser, Jeong Jaehyun,” you whisper then, but you loosen a hand from the bouquet and place it against his cheek to keep him there. To treasure him. “And such a sweet little idiot. You don’t have to apologize about a single thing to me.” He smells like home, like the only home you’ve ever known. Jaehyun hums, and nods in assent to the insults, and the agreement makes you laugh. You kiss his cheek again, and again, and again, until Jaehyun’s impatience makes him turn his head and kiss you so urgently that your head feels like it’s spinning. “Jaehyun,” you sigh into the kiss, feeling his teeth nip at your lower lip, feeling his hands close around your heart.

You have never felt so safe.

Jaehyun rests his forehead against yours, the pouring rain cascading around you both. “Does that mean I can kill your little boy toy now?” he asks, but you only smack him and smile shyly, your face radiant with adoration for him. “I am going to resolve some things first,” you tell him. “Until then, no murder.”

“And after that?”

“After that,” you say, “I am going to prove that my heart has always belonged to you, Jeong Jaehyun. Even when I made you doubt that.”

(For your information, Jeonghan has recorded that entire interaction and forwarded it to Johnny without context. Johnny had texted him back almost seconds later, asking, Who’s this and how’d you get my number? Hannie’s response, as you discover after he had confessed his betrayal, was I have my ways.)

Jaehyun,

I realize me writing another letter is cruel and ironic, but hear me out, please.

When I wrote my first letter, it was with the selfish intention of at least something of mine remaining with you. By the time you read this, I’ll hopefully have gathered enough evidence to explain my case to you and maybe have the guts to ask you to accompany me to the police, but what I first want to reiterate is: I love you. I love you the point of self-sacrifice. I love you enough that I turned my back on being selfless anyways and selfishly chose you, because you are the most important person in my heart. You will always come first.

When I wrote that letter to break up with you, I imagined a piece of myself embedding itself in the ink so that at least something could remain forever. In my mind, you were never ephemeral: no matter how many times I changed my paths and adjusted my future, it has always included you. I never once imagined building a life for myself that didn’t have you as its brilliant, shining center piece, the light of my life, my Jaehyun. I’ve always been afraid of falling in love head-first, always afraid of loving more than the other, but you have proven me wrong. And I love being proven wrong by you. I love the fact that you fiercely, sincerely, and lovingly pull me back to reality every time. Reality with you is more perfect than anything I could have ever dreamed of.

Since my first letter was supposed to be a goodbye, I want this letter to be proof that I choose to greet the future with you. I want this letter to be proof that I will never need a letter again. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and telling you about it, and I will reassure you of that always, in the same manner as you have always me reassured me. You told me that my heart was good and pure, but I genuinely believe that I am constantly reflecting back what you give me: your kindness, Jae, your sincerity, your unbelievable humanity.

You are the only man I ever want roses in my life from, and that will never change. :) So if you finish reading this, stop creeping on my Instagram waiting for me to drop the other man and come bring me another bouquet so I can prove to you there has never been another. You are the only one in my heart.

With love,

your sweetheart

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