#tomorrow by together

[choibeomgyuu]

BEOMGYU :: PANIC TEASER

[celli-ohs]

and then i'll leave without a trace

pairing: choi soobin x reader

genre: collegeau!, parenthoodau!, angst, nsfw, fluff

synopsis: your relationship with choi soobin is not a normal one. one might see you two out in public and assume you are lovers. his mother thinks you two are soulmates. your friends keep telling you to just date the guy already. but how can you bring yourself to date a total stranger? well maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to have a baby with him.

word count: 14.9k

warnings: mentions of drinking alcohol, intoxication, foul language, stds and other sexual diseases, depression, postpartum depression, parenting struggles, toxic familial relationships, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, sex while inebriated, sex while pregnant, oral sex (m&f receiving), fingering, and breeding kink

playlist: and then i'll leave without a trace

taglist: @beomgyusluver @94vsmonbebe @soobaglesblog @dawngyu @justandloyal2961 @yezznn @lesbiansforseonghwa @soobinieswife @chwesuh-imnida

note: i literally just finished this and like the psycho i am, I'm uploading it right away! i really hope you guys like it, this is my first time ever writing angst, as well as touching on the subject of pregnancy. this is part 1! i plan to do a part 2 in Soobin's pov bc I just like to make things harder for myself! also I had so many different entries I used all 30 photos for my dividers sorry for how plain it looks TT pls lmk how you like it! i want to be able to improve as i continue writing! much love <333

He’s surprisingly timid despite his appearance. That was your first impression of Choi Soobin. 

You two were at a party. It was homecoming season, the summer heat still resonating through the air even after the sun had set. You were cramped inside an apartment while the entire place was flooded with college students drunk off of cheap liquor. 

Your friends are busy gossiping about Jimin’s Psych professor cheating on his wife with his new T.A. You’re next to them silent, teetering between buzzed and tipsy. Your eyes drift off into the crowd, and maybe it’s because you’re currently sitting on the kitchen counter, but you feel as if you can see everything and anything.

Everyone’s heads are turned away from you but one.

A tall, awkward-looking man with tousled dark hair stares at you from his position across the room. He’s alone, back against the wall, two hands nursing his solo cup.

Your eyes connect for just two seconds before he looks away, he distracts himself by taking a sip of his drink.

You continue to watch him. This seems to make him skittish, he doesn’t know what to do. So he just downs his drink and excuses himself from his spot, struggling to push through the crowd to find refuge down the hall.

He’s weird, you think.

“Who’s that?” You tap Minjeong’s shoulder, roughly pointing out the man just as he ducks behind the corner. 

“Huh? Oh, I think that’s Soobin, one of Heeseung’s friends maybe.” She makes a face as she is unsure. You sit back up and look around again. Soobin is gone.

You don’t think about him for the rest of the night.

He’s handsome, this stranger.

The room is dark and you can barely see, but you know he is. He’s got soft skin, a tall round nose, and pouty lips that kiss the skin of your neck just right.

You don’t have to speak a word for him to know how to handle you, his hands do all the talking as they pull off your clothes, dancing against your bare body. You get chills every time you feel his breath tickle your ear.

And when his cock slips inside your heat with ease, you exhale with a smile. You lean into his touch, he’s more gentle than you could ever imagine. 

Your moans fill the room just like he fills you. You two are dancing in sync to the musical rhythm of what was pure raw intoxicated sex.

With every thrust you can feel your high climb up and up, you’re clawing for a release, and you’ll get it no matter what. A hand on your breast, another on your clit, anything to stimulate you more.

Sex has never felt so good. Maybe it was because you were drunk, or maybe it was because you were super horny, who knows? What you do know is that this was a high you never wanted to come down from.

He flips you around like a doll, and hungrily kisses you like you’re his dying meal. You can’t help but clench. Your hips move on their own, grinding up against the stranger. You consume him as he consumes you.

You beg God for the moment to never end.

Soobin is pulling up his pants as you sit on the edge of your bed, still wrapped in your sheets. You’re a bit ashamed that you can’t seem to remember what happened last night. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Soobin suddenly apologizes, he can’t look you in the eyes. You have no idea what prompted him to say such a thing.

“Why?” You ask, adjusting the blanket to cover your chest a bit more. “For what happened. It’s a little weird, don’t you think?” 

You turn away in thought. Sleeping with a stranger was nothing too new to you. You’ve had a few one night stands, they were enjoyable enough for you to not be bothered. Purely physical.

But maybe that wasn’t normal to him.

“Is this your way of telling me you gave me something?” You joke. Soobin freaks out, eyes bugged out of his face. “No! Oh God, no!” He shakes his head defensively. 

You let out a chuckle, looking up at him tiredly. “I’m joking.” He sighs, calming down and proceeding to finish getting changed. 

“Don’t take what happened last night too seriously,” You hum. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

You see Soobin falter for just half a second, it’s so fast you almost think you imagined it.

He just nods and walks out the room, letting himself out.

That was not the last time you saw Soobin. Because you soon find yourself pushed up against him in a bed time and time again. You don’t even know why you keep going back to him, you have to ask yourself this question as you lay next to him late at night. 

The sex was good, obviously. But was that really just it?

You turn your head, beside you Soobin sleeps peacefully, mouth hung wide open. His arms are strewn over both you and his bed, legs hanging over his mattress.

Could you see yourself being more than sexual partners with this man? Could you see yourself dating him? See him as a lover?

You had no real feelings of want or need to be in a relationship at the moment. There’s too much emotion involved, too much pressure and thinking. Too much vulnerability. 

You shift away from Soobin, your back facing him now. It’s colder at the edge of the bed so you have to pull the blanket up higher.

He feels you leave him, as he subconsciously scoots closer, wrapping his long arms around your torso like ropes. This time you don’t move.

You fall back asleep as you tell yourself over and over again that all of this was purely physical. Don’t get attached.

It was supposed to be a funny little game, it was supposed to be a joke. You agreed to this, how would you have known that this would be the outcome?

You were always so careful, maybe this is some form of karma, for all your thoughts and bad decisions.

Eventually it had to catch up to you.

You sit nervously at the table, foot kicking up and down as you try to distract yourself with your cup of water. Waiting felt like forever. 

Finally you hear the ding of the front door bell, and you look up to see him. 

Soobin smiles at you. It’s stiff and awkward, but you try and smile back. He sits across from you like he’s in a business meeting. 

“Hi,” He almost whispers. “Did you want to order anything?” You ignore his greeting, gesturing to the register to your left. He looks over then returns his attention back to you. “No, I'm okay.”

You nod and observe him. Maybe it’s because when you two usually meet, you’re both naked, but Soobin seems a bit dressed up. He’s wearing a plain t-shirt and knit cardigan, paired with a nice pair of jeans. He’s wearing glasses, you didn’t know he needed them.

“Something wrong?” He suddenly asks, and you’re made aware you’ve been staring for too long. “Huh? Sorry, I- I was just thinking,” You lie.

Soobin nods and clears his throat. “So, you wanted to talk?” He reminds you. “Yeah, yeah.” You mumble. 

Yesterday you had randomly messaged him in the middle of the day, asking to meet at a little coffee shop nearby your place. It wasn’t often you asked to hang outside the bedroom. 

“About what?” Soobin’s question was one that you were dreading for the past week and a half. But hearing them in person were different than imagining them. 

Your chest tightens and your head feels dizzy. Your stomach turns uncomfortably as you struggle to speak. The words collect at your throat, stuck there as your mind grows fuzzy. 

You’d rehearsed this so many times, why was it so hard when it was the real deal?

You finally look up at Soobin, his dark eyes are surprisingly bright and warm. His expression is confused, his brows furrowed together as he tries to read you. You suddenly remember why you’re even doing this. You owe it to him.

“I’m pregnant.”

You have to look away. You’re scared to see his reaction.

“A-And I think I’m going to go through with the pregnancy.” You cough out. “Once the baby is born, I’m going to give them up for adoption.”

This was your decision. You’d thought about this over and over again, and you felt this was what you wanted to do. 

You considered not telling Soobin at all, because well, you were admittedly scared of how he’d react. This stranger you slept with, would he care if you had his baby?

In your head, you believed you could keep quiet about this, cut him off, run back home and never have to worry about seeing him ever again. But something kept tugging at your heart to tell him.

You take some courage and peek at the man across from you. You weren’t sure what you were expecting from Soobin, but the pure look of shock on his face was different than you were thinking of.

You make eye contact, and Soobin finally blinks. He looks around the coffee shop, trying to find something else to focus on. “Uh, when-when did you find this out?” He asks.

“Almost two weeks ago.” You answer. You decide to not tell him you and your friends decided to do that stupid Tik Tok challenge where everyone takes a pregnancy test.

Yours was the only one that came out positive.

Soobin only nods his head, rubbing his hands as he struggles to form a sentence. You can understand what he’s going through. That same night you found out, you locked yourself in Jimin’s bathroom and took three more tests to confirm those two little lines.

“You don’t have to be involved.” You speak up. “I just wanted to tell you.”

His head shoots up at you in a mixture of confusion and surprise. “No, no I want to be involved, yeah.” He says this with zero confidence, it does nothing to convince you.

You look outside the window. It’s no longer summer, the leaves are now brown, the sky gray and cold. The transition to autumn felt abrupt and rushed to you. 

“Okay.”

Your interactions with Soobin after that become limited. You wonder if he’s avoiding you. Or if you’re avoiding him.

Deep down you feel as though you know the answer to that question. So you were surprised when he called to ask you to move in with him out of the blue.

“Like right now?” You ask, pressing your phone against your ear as you fold your laundry on your bed. 

“Not exactly,” Soobin sounds unsure of himself on the other side of the line. “But that way I can be of more help.” 

You set down your clothes to properly hold your phone. You’re sure what he’s saying is true. It would be nice to have someone around at home most days. Your roommate Gaeul hasn’t been too fond of your morning sickness. 

But the only thing stopping you was the fact that you would be living with a stranger.

A stranger who’d knocked you up with his baby before you even had a real proper conversation.

“Y/n? Are you still there?” Soobin asks. You hum, going back to folding your clothes. “Just think about it. It doesn’t have to be right away, we can wait a bit if you want. But maybe it’ll be better that way.”

You hum again and the two of you bid goodbye before you hang up the call.

Living with Soobin. You wonder how that would be.

Right now everything was changing: your body, your diet, your entire life. You’re sick all day, you feel like a zombie as you force yourself to go through your routine. 

You still go to class every day, though you almost always never know what’s going on with how horrible you feel. You work through your shifts gripping onto any shelf, counter or ledge in your vicinity. 

You always need to pee, your boobs are starting to hurt as they grow, forcing you to go out and buy new bras. You can barely hold a meal down without puking it all back up, you’re constantly fatigued, but no matter how much sleep you get you’re uncomfortable and restless. 

Plus, there was an upside to living with Soobin, he lived alone and his apartment was nice and spacious. You don’t know how he scored a single unit apartment the size of his by himself, but he also had a decent paying job and was the youngest of three, apparently his parents had money.

Would having Soobin around help ease any of that? You guess you’ll just have to see and find out.

Moving day doesn’t go as planned, because of course you need to vomit your guts out in the middle of organizing your boxes.

You’re leaning onto Soobin’s toilet for dear life as you hurl your insides down the bowl. Each breath you take seems to upset your stomach more than the one before.

“Are you okay?” Soobin asks nervously as he stands by the door, head peeking out. Instead of answering him with words, you puke up your earlier lunch. 

You don’t know if he stands there the entire time, or if he’s gone off to run away, but eventually you feel your insides calm down. You take the time to rest your head against your arm, closing your eyes as you barely have the energy to do anything but breath.

Your mouth feels gross, your throat is dry and it hurts to swallow even your saliva. With whatever energy you have left, you flush the toilet and stand yourself up to rinse your mouth in the sink. As you do, you look at your reflection in the mirror. 

You look haggard. There’s no trace of the woman you were just two months ago. You suddenly feel as if you are losing yourself. You couldn’t recognize your reflection.

Tears well up in your eyes and your vision is blurred as you cry to yourself quietly. This was all wrong. This wasn’t what you wanted. You wished you’d never chosen this. You wished you’d never slept with him, that you never met him. 

You wished you were a better person.

You feel a hand tap your shoulder, and you quickly whip around and swat it away. 

And it’s like you wake up. Soobin stares at you, taken aback as he holds a water bottle. His hands are up as if to show you he has no bad intentions. He looks as innocent as a young boy.

“I brought you water.” He hiccups.

You can’t figure out why in the moment, but this act of kindness frustrates you. You wipe your tears quickly and push past him, escaping out the front door to sit in your car.

The guilt sinks in later.

Makeup sex was for couples. And apparently for you and Soobin.

Though you weren’t sure if this was exactly that.

“S-Soobin-!” You gasp as he sucks the skin of your neck, his thrusts are much more gentle than you’re used to, yet this turns you on more.

“Hmm?” He hums, looking at you with lust-drunken eyes. As you lay on your back, arms thrown over his shoulders and legs splayed wide open for his access, you look up at the man. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. His lips are puffy from how hard he’d kissed you earlier.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” His hand instinctively goes over your tummy. This embarrasses you for some reason, turning to look away. “I’m fine.” You lie. Soobin pauses for a moment, before leaning down to kiss the side of your face, coaxing you to face him again so he can kiss you some more.

“Let’s keep going then. Let me make you feel better,” He murmurs, his voice so deep it tickles your ear just right.

You don’t argue with him.

“You’re due in August of next year, the 5th.” Your doctor informs you as she rubs the transducer against the gel on your skin. On the screen in front of you, you can see the black and white photo of what looks like a little blob.

“Your baby is about the size of a grape. Not a lot of facial features have been formed yet at this point.” She points at the little white thing on the screen, and begins to show you exactly what is the head and where the bottom is. 

You end up turning away, you can’t handle looking for too long.

You don’t want to get attached. You told yourself this from the beginning. You are not a mother, you’re simply carrying the baby to term.

Soobin on the other hand looks both fascinated and mortified. His eyes are glued to the monitor, he keeps nodding when the doctor speaks. It almost disgusts you how eager he seems.  

After the ultrasound you’re required to do a physical exam, then some bloodwork. You wince as the nurse inserts the needle into your arm, you can feel your blood flow through your arm and up the tube to the multiple vials beside you.

“You don’t like needles?” Soobin asks. You open your eyes and find he’s moved from his seat to stand next to you. “No, who likes needles?” You ask rhetorically. He scoffs at your question.

You ignore him, maybe it was your hormones, but everything seemed to be irritating you lately. You suddenly feel lightheaded, resting your head against the hospital bed. 

A hand reaches your free arm. You look down, it’s Soobin. He’s slowly inching towards your fingers, before he clasps you in his grip, giving you a reassuring squeeze. 

You start to regret your earlier feelings, realizing you should be grateful he wanted to go with you to this appointment. You had never considered how hard it would’ve been going alone.

You give him a squeeze back, and out of embarrassment, close your eyes and turn your head. You feel Soobin pet your hair, it’s comforting.

“Just one more vial, then you’re done, okay?” He whispers to you. You nod and subconsciously lean towards him. 

You never expected your parents to react the way they did. Your mother in tears and your father in disbelief. And in the end it wasn’t a happy moment.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat as Soobin drives you both home, the weather seems to mimic your emotion: it’s pouring rain.

You’ve been crying even before you got into the car. Your hometown was about 3 ½ hours away from your university, and you hadn’t seen your parents in months, so imagine their surprise when you arrived home with not only a boy, but his baby.

In fact, you weren’t even dating him, you were living with him and having his kid, but you weren’t dating.

You arrived at 12:30 pm just to leave an hour later. You’d planned to spend the night.

You never expected your parents to be happy. They always preached for you to get your degree and marry before settling down. You obviously ignored all of that.

But a small sliver of you thought they’d forgive you. You were their daughter after all. A parent’s love should be able to overcome such things, right?

You’ve never had the best relationship with your parents, but they've always had your back. This time they didn’t. You can still hear your mother’s sobs, they’re louder than the rainfall hitting the windshield as Soobin zooms down the freeway. 

The car suddenly slows down, and the harsh rain falls to a gentle splash. You wipe your eyes and look outside. Soobin parks at a rest stop. He turns off the ignition and unbuckles his seat.

“W-Why’re we here? Where are you going?” You hiccup, confused and anxious. “I’m grabbing us lunch, do you want to come with me? You can stay in the car if you’d like.” Soobin opens his door but doesn’t step out yet. 

You look back outside. There’s a bunch of stalls lined up, all of them have steam coming out from the piping hot food. You suddenly remember you haven’t eaten much since this morning. When you told your mom you were visiting, she excitedly informed you she would have a feast upon your arrival. You obviously didn’t eat a single bite.

You turn back to Soobin with a nod, and unbuckle your seatbelt. You open your door and step out, allowing the rain to hit your face. It’s almost refreshing. You two rush underneath the canopies, not wanting to get too wet. 

“What’re you craving? I think I'm gonna get sotteok sotteok.” He leads you to a stall. “Me too,” You decide, something spicy sounded nice. “And gukbap. And cider.” You add. Soobin laughs and nods his head, calmly ordering for the both of you. 

As you wait in line for your food, you can’t help but stare at Soobin.

This man was the father of your child, your baby daddy if you must. How does he feel about that?

You’re reminded of your mother’s screams from just earlier.

“Let’s go find somewhere to sit.” Soobin miraculously carries the tray of food in his hands, and the two of you sit down at the nearest clear table.

You two dig in, though you’re a lot slower and less vigorous than usual. You stir your soup absentmindedly, taking a sip every few seconds. You take nibbles of your sotteok skewer, and don’t even open your cider.

“Are you okay?” You usually hated hearing that question come from his mouth, but right now it felt different.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize. He looks at you with a full mouth. “If you don’t finish your food that’s fine, I can eat it.” He assumes you’re talking about your sudden lack of appetite.

“No, I mean I’m sorry about my parents.” You correct. “They said some pretty mean stuff back there to you.” You mumble.

Soobin goes quiet. He swallows his food and wipes his mouth with a napkin before speaking.

“And they said some really mean stuff to you too.” You take a big bite of your skewer to avoid talking. 

You both continue to eat in silence, that was enough of that conversation for the rest of the day.

“Feel good?” Soobin asks, though you can’t say anything because you were currently leaning against your seat in the car while Soobin’s fingers slid in and out of you.

You’re breathy, panting as you reach up and behind to grip the seat head for stability. You feel a bit exposed as you were still parked in the parking lot of the rest stop. Soobin had moved you guys to a far off corner away from the rest of the cars. 

The windows are foggy, the radio plays softly, though they’re drowned out by your moans. You’re too aroused to care if people can see you.

Soobin leans over the console box, enrapturing you in a tongue twisting kiss. Your hand finds its way to his hair, running though his locks as he speeds up his pace. 

His long veiny hands, his fingers are thicker and rougher than your own, it’s like they reach all the right spots. He’s curling, digging inside your gummy walls, trying to reach deeper and deeper.

Your breath hitches as you feel your orgasm approaching, your head is spinning from your high. Soobin pulls away from you, your lips are strung together by a single line of saliva. 

You look at him dazed, a look of lust.

Soobin continues to stare at you, his thumb coming to rest against your clit as he shoves his index and middle finger in your sopping pussy.

Maybe it was the direct and intense eye contact, or the adrenaline of being caught, but you come with so much passion you have to grip onto the door in order to ground yourself.

Your walls clench and convulse around Soobin’s thick fingers as he slowly pulls out, your cum leaves them glazed. As you try to catch your breath, you watch him stick his fingers inside his mouth, he sucks them decadently. 

Finally, he wipes your mouth with his thumb, licking it clean. This man knew how to push your buttons in all the right ways.

“Let’s go home,” He announces, starting the car again and putting the car in drive.

When your second trimester rolls around, it’s as if your morning sickness magically disappears. You can stomach just about anything now, in fact your appetite has grown.

Your bump is slowly coming in, it’s still small enough where you can see your toes. But you no longer fit any of your jeans, and have opted to wear sweatpants 24/7 as it’s the only thing that fits you. 

“These are kinda cute,” Minjeong holds up a pair of maternity chinos. “Jesus Minjeong, she’s trying to look like Rihanna, not a fucking politician.” Ningning swipes the chinos and hangs them back on the rack. Your friend sulks and takes solace by your side.

“Did you think they were cute?” She asks you. You pout and shake your head. “Sorry. I didn’t even like the color.” Minjeong’s frown deepens. “Hey!” Aeri shouts, waving you down. “Look at these jeans! They’re cute and baggy,” She shows you a pair of medium wash jeans. 

The legs are nice and wide, and not too long where you’d be tripping over them. “I can try them on,” You agree. She happily puts them into the cart. 

“I found this cute maxi skirt, do you like it?” Jimin saunters over and presents the flowy white skirt. “Oh this is totally giving Rihanna in the Bahamas vibe, you have to get it.” Ningning answers for you. You laugh and nod for her to add it to the cart. “I’ll try it on.” 

You guys pile on a few more articles of clothing before heading to the fitting room where you proceed to have a tiny fashion show for all your friends. 

“I kind of like that one!” Jimin nods as you try on a cardigan. “No, she looks frumpy, don’t get it.” Ningning is brutally honest.

“I think you should definitely get the skirt, the jeans, the overalls, the two tops we liked, and at least get the dress, it was totally a skims dupe!” Aeri says as you head back into the fitting room to change into your clothes.

“I like the sweater,” Minjeong reminds them. “Oh that one was cute, yeah, especially now that it’s starting to get cold outside.” Jimin agrees.

You step back out, grabbing the clothes you liked in one arm and the ones you didn’t in the other. “Let me help you,” Jimin grabs the no pile and hands it to the employee up front. 

“I liked them all, “ You admit. You haven’t gone shopping in a while, you were much too busy and anxious during your first trimester. 

Because of that you also didn’t spend a lot of time with your friends. You found it hard to be around them and not feel sick or uncomfortable.

But now you were getting back into your groove, and they seemed to notice it too, it reminded you of old times. 

“The total is going to be $223.47.” The cashier announces, and suddenly it’s like your morning sickness has manifested itself.

“Maternity clothes are that expensive?! We’re literally at Target!” Minjeong squeaks not so subtly to you and the others. 

“We could all pay together, maybe-” “No it’s fine,” You cut off Jimin. “I’ll just get the jeans and the one top please.” You tell the cashier, and he removes the other items.

“Y/n, what the hell?!” Ningning glares at you. “I can get more next time,” You tell her. “I just need something right now, I’ll get bigger anyways, I don’t want to get one size just to outgrow it again in a few weeks.” You argue. Your friends sigh and try not to say anything as you pay. 

But as you all walk back to Aeri’s car, you feel a bit ashamed.

No wonder your parents were so angry, you’re too young, too financially unstable to be with a child. You could barely afford a pair of jeans and a shirt, that you’ll probably discard once all of this is over.

You look down at your growing belly, you still find it hard to believe there’s a baby growing in there, despite you being actual living breathing proof.

At least you won’t have to constantly buy diapers and formula, you think to yourself as you get in the car.

“What do you mean you’re cutting my hours?” You ask your boss, staring him straight in the eyes. He sighs, grimacing at you from his seat. 

“You’ve been constantly calling out or you will leave early from all your shifts. You are not here when we need coverage, I can’t keep scheduling you if you’re not going to be here.” He decides.

You actually scoff at him in disbelief. “I wasn’t here because I’m pregnant. I’ve been physically vomiting any food that enters my body. I was losing bodily fluids more than I can intake, I was sore all over, I had little energy. I couldn’t help that I wasn’t here.” You argue, your anger fueling your adrenaline.

“I get that, I do Y/n- but I can’t keep giving you-” “But I’m here now, I’m better now!” You cut him off. “My morning sickness is gone, I don’t have a lot of nausea. I can still do my job.” 

Your boss sighs again, leans back into his chair as his lips go thin. “I have employees who are hard workers and need the hours. I’m required by store policy to give them hours as they are eligible.”

You sit in your chair, and it starts to seep in that no matter what you do, no one is listening. 

Then your boss says something to you that almost breaks you.

“Y/n, I’m doing this to protect you. Don’t you want to be able to rest more and stay at home?”

“Should we get orange juice or apple juice?” Soobin asks you as you two stand in the refrigerated section of the grocery store.

“Apple. We don’t like orange juice, it’s too tangy.” You grimace and grab the gallon from the shelf. 

When you place the juice into the shopping cart, you realize Soobin has been staring at you like you’ve grown horns out of your head. “What?”

“We?” He repeats, pointing to himself. You suddenly realize what he’s asking, and laugh. “No, we.” You gesture to your growing stomach, you meant the baby.

“Oh,” He seems embarrassed as it finally clicks to him on what you meant. “I was gonna say, I prefer orange juice.”

“We can get that next time,” You let him push the cart as you guys slowly pick up more groceries for the week.

Some meat (no pork, not after you’d gotten sick from throwing up breakfast sausage three weeks ago), vegetables, fruits (you liked to freeze some of them to make an icy snack), and of course ice cream.

“Same as usual?” Soobin asks and you eagerly nod, allowing him to open the freezer door and fish for your favorite flavor at the back of the top shelf, perks of having a tall baby daddy you think.

“Two Half-Baked ice creams from Ben & Jerry’s, pint sized.” He sets the tubs of ice cream into the filled cart in a grandiose manner, you applaud him.

“You’re a Godsend.” You sigh happily. A skip in your step as you guys finally make your way back to the cash registers to check out.

But half way there, something catches your eye. You pause, no longer following Soobin down the main aisle. 

You make a detour at the baby section.

Your attention has been swiped by an adorable little onesie, decorated with a drawing of a smiling sun and a couple of blue birds. Three birds to be precise, a mom, a dad and a baby bird.

You grab the foot of the onesie, it’s smaller than your palm. How can something be so little-

“Y/n?” You whip around. Soobin stands in front of you. He watched you.

“I was just looking.” You explain, dropping your hand from the onesie entirely. He nods, though his gaze is trained on where your fingers once were. 

“Okay,” He clears his throat and looks away. “I think they’re having a sale on the pastries, mind if I grab some?” You quickly shake your head, and Soobin runs off to the bakery section.

Once he’s out of sight, you return your attention back to the onesie. It’s fallen off the hanger, it’s laying on the floor.

Quietly, you pick it up and place it back on its hanger, putting it on its rack. You read the tag, the size was for newborns. 

You walk back to the cart and begin to walk slowly to the line for the registers. “The croissants were half off.” Soobin shows you as he meets you again. You smile and nod. 

Were babies really that tiny when they’re born? A small part of you wants to know.

You wake up to the smell of something sweet. That’s unusual.

You sit up, scratching your belly as you walk out the bedroom and into the kitchen, where you find Soobin preparing what you hope is breakfast.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, eyeing him. Usually you were the cook in the household, Soobin was a mess in the kitchen, most of his meals came out inedible.

He jumps at your voice, not noticing you were peeking over his shoulder. “You scared me!” He yelps and you smile. He must have been really focused.

You look at the pile of pancakes he has stacked on a plate, they look messy, but good. “I made you breakfast. The doctor said you have to watch what you eat, remember?”

He was right, just yesterday you two went in for a visit. Your doctor made it very clear that you needed to be eating healthy if you wanted the baby to be born healthy and to have an easy delivery. You needed to watch your sugar intake in case you developed gestational diabetes, common in pregnancy.

“You made all of this for me?” You question, still in disbelief that Soobin, a man who favored sleep over most, would wake up early to make breakfast.

“Well,” Soobin shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “For you, and for him.” He points and you look down at your bulging belly.

Yesterday you found out the gender of your baby. You were having a boy. A baby boy.

You unconsciously run a hand over your stomach, it’s warm, the skin smooth. You were going to have a son. 

Your heart skips a beat, and you have to physically pinch yourself back to reality.

“Thank you,” You try not to seem too happy. “Yeah,” Soobin seems to follow suit. “Here, I made you a plate already, I also got sugar-free syrup.” He drizzles some over your stack before placing the plate in front of you. 

You carefully take your fork and chop yourself a bite, surprised at the burst of flavor and how not burnt it tasted.

“Are there blueberries in here?” You ask inquisitively. Soobin seems delighted you realized. “Yes!” He grins. “I thought plain wheat pancakes would be boring, so I added some blueberries. They’re good right?”

“They’re delicious,” You hum, taking another bite. You must have been enjoying the pancakes too much, because you suddenly feel a fluttering feeling in your stomach, almost as if-

You suddenly drop your fork, it clatters onto the floor and Soobin spins around. “What? Does it taste bad now?” He’s so confused as you look up at him for your seat with wide, shocked eyes. 

“I-I think- I think he moved.” You point to your tummy, and you look down as if to confirm what you felt.

“What?” Soobin also is surprised he suddenly is on his knees, crouched down to match the level of your stomach, placing a gentle hand on top.

You two wait in silence, waiting patiently only for nothing to happen. Were you wrong?

“Maybe he’s shy, we’re putting him on the spot,” Soobin jokes, though you notice the sad look in his eyes. You suddenly get an idea.

“Hold on,” You say, and direct Soobin to lean in and press his head against your belly, allowing him to hear and feel intensely. “Keep your hand here,” You instruct. He listens obediently.

You go back to your plate of pancakes, using your finger you rip off a piece and begin to eat again. You chew, swallow, and wait one more time. It’s so quiet in the apartment, you could hear a pin drop.

Then it happens. That fluttery feeling again. It’s like a tickle on the inside. But the second it happens you and Soobin gasp, looking at each other with pure joy.

“He moved, oh my God he moved!” Soobin laughs with joy. “He moved!” You repeat. “He moved, he moved. God, he moved.” Soobin rubs his hand over your stomach excitedly as you giggle.

You two stay like this for a moment, before you make eye contact once more, and it serves as a reminder of the reality of the situation. Your chuckles die down, and Soobin stands back up, going back to the kitchen counter to finish and clean up the mess he’d made. You turn back to your food at the table.

���It almost felt like we were dating there for a second.” You try to make a joke.

Soobin is quiet for a moment, you can hear him flipping a few new pancakes on the stove.

“But we’re not, right?” He says flatly.

You decide to not answer that as if it wasn’t already obvious. 

“Oh!” The sonographer gasps, she wears a bright smile as she turns to you excitedly. “You can see his hand, it’s like he’s saying hi!” 

She moves the transducer around and points to the screen. And just like she says, right there is a tiny hand, all five fingers spread out as if waving out to you. Each finger is thin and long, the palm round and sturdy looking. 

Soobin leans forward and presses his index finger where the little hand lays on the screen. The entire pad of his finger is bigger than the hand alone.

Your heart clenches. How odd, you almost can feel your baby’s little hand wrap around Soobin’s finger, a fragile yet tight grip.

“How precious,” The sonographer grins, and Soobin pulls away. You notice his attention has shifted from the screen to his index finger.

“Dad, looks like he’s got your nose.” The sonographer suddenly says, and you both jolt, heads whipping around to the screen once more. You can see the side profile of the infant.

“And mom, I think the baby's got your lips, he’s going to be so handsome!” You’ve never been called mom before. No one has called you a mother, or regarded you as one, not your friends, coworkers, hell not even Soobin.

It’s strange to hear, it makes your heart rate speed up.

You never really considered that your baby would, well, look like you. Sure you knew that the baby growing inside you was yours, but you never took the time to imagine how he would look like, what he’d sound like, what his name-

You have to stop yourself from overthinking.

You weren’t a mom. You weren’t supposed to name him. You shouldn’t care about how he looks or how he’s sound. 

You shouldn’t care about any of this, all of this was temporary anyways, right?

It’s 3 am in the morning and you’re trudging yourself to the bathroom because your bladder is crying to be released.

You rub your eyes, the bright light of the bathroom blinds you. You sit on the toilet and yawn. As you finish, you wash your hands with your eyes still closed. 

You were exhausted, no matter how much you slept, you were never comfortable enough to fully get a good rest.

You’re about to turn off the lights and leave, when you catch your reflection. You’re wearing nothing but a camisole (which has ridden up over your growing belly) and your panties. 

Despite it being November, you run warm now that you’re growing a baby. Wearing too many layers has you sweating like a pig at night.

Funny enough, Soobin is always cold, he naturally drifts towards you in his sleep, his icy hands resting against your hot skin. 

You turn to the side, and you’re surprised how big you’ve gotten. You’re almost proud.

You shake your head. You need to stop acting like this. You have nothing to be proud of, nothing to think about. You just need to go to sleep and mind your business-

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a kick from your stomach. You look down, perplexed. Do babies read minds? 

You doubt that, but that seemed like too much of a coincidence for you to let it pass. You rub your hands over your bare belly, almost as if you’re apologizing.

Why do you feel guilty?

You swallow thickly and turn off the lights, leaving the bathroom to go back to bed. You enter the bedroom and see Soobin has taken your spot in bed, probably trying to find warmth in whatever was left from your body heat moments ago.

Nudging him, you slip back under the covers, letting him cuddle into your side, seeking your heat.

You naturally reach up to run a hand through his hair, it’s soft and fluffy and smells like fresh santal. 

Sometimes you envy Soobin.

For many things: like not having to deal with abnormal changes to his body, he doesn’t gag or feel sick by certain scents or foods, hang with friends without the stares, have a job that pays and schedules him fairly, loved by his parents no matter what he does.

You feel as if you suffer so much, just for him to continue a life of pleasure.

But as you lay together in bed, you’re reminded that you’re not the only one whose life has changed drastically this past year.

Soobin has had a stranger move into his home, puke her guts everyday inside his toilet for months, pays the rent for both of them, helps her stay caught up with schoolwork, goes with her to every doctor’s appointment, buys her all her weird cravings, cooks her food despite his challenges in the kitchen.

He runs her a bath when she’s too tired to shower, brushes her hair while she eats ice cream on the couch, pleases her sexual needs before his, he comforts her whenever she cries, even if it’s over the littlest thing like her struggling to put on her socks.

You cradle Soobin’s face in your hands. You hope your son looks like him. An innocent newborn shouldn’t look like someone as guilty as you.

You push Soobin away, turning the other direction. How could a horrible person like yourself be with a person who is giving and humble like Soobin?

“Merry Christmas!” Soobin’s mom is overjoyed to see you two at her front door. She immediately pulls you both into a bear hug. 

“Hi mom,” Soobin smiles. His mother pulls him down for a kiss on the cheek. “Have you been eating well? Sleeping well?” She asks him. He nods obediently. His mom turns her attention to you. 

“Y/n! I’m so happy to see you again.” She grins and without warning pulls you into another hug, petting your hair. 

“Me too,” You giggle nervously. You liked Soobin’s mom, you two previously met months prior when Soobin revealed to his parents you two were expecting a child. She was an incredibly sweet woman.

“How are you? Healthy? How is my grandbaby?” She leans down to cup your stomach, already baby talking to your unborn son. You try to relax and act normal, but your eyes flit over to Soobin, who tries to hide his grim expression.

Soobin has yet to inform his parents on your decision of adoption.

“Oh, come in come in! You two are probably cold! It’s freezing out there, snowing down a storm.” His mom ushers you both inside, allowing you two to remove your coats and shoes before entering. 

“Everyone’s here already, your sister-” “UNCLE SOOBIN!” A voice interrupts and you hear the sound of tiny feet running quickly. You look up and find a little boy running full speed towards you two. 

“Dokyung!” Soobin bends down, arms wide open as he catches the boy in a strong hug. The boy laughs loudly as Soobin tickles him.

Soobin stands back up, carrying the toddler in his arms as he faces you. “Dokyung, this is Y/n,” He introduces you. You give the boy a soft smile and wave your hand. “Hi Dokyung, nice to meet you,” 

He stares at you expressionless and you stare back. He looks so much like Soobin, like twins. You feel like you’re seeing double.

Not only that, but Soobin holds him so naturally, as if he were made to carry him, to raise a child. Dokyung looks comfortable as he lays in Soobin’s arms. It does something to your brain.

“Why is your tummy so big?” Dokyung suddenly asks, leaning down from Soobin’s grasp to pat you. You’re taken aback by his brash question, but what can you expect from an innocent child?

You find his curiosity endearing, and end up laughing. “There’s a baby inside, I’m pregnant.” You explain, rubbing a hand over your stomach as if to show.

Dokyung blinks at you. “Why?”

You blink back. How were you supposed to answer that?

“It’s almost time for dinner, are you hungry Dokyung? Grandma said she made lots of food for us,” Soobin jumps in and changes the subject. 

“No I want a cookie, mommy said I can eat a cookie because it’s Christmas!” Dokyung squirms out of Soobin’s arms, and drags him further into the house.

“He’s cute, isn't he? Dokyung is Soobin’s older sister’s son,” You almost forget Soobin’s mother has been here the entire time.

“Yeah, he’s funny,” You smile as you follow her to the living area. “We’re all so excited to have you join us this year for Christmas. And with an even newer member joining next year! Dokyung will be overjoyed to play with his new cousin!” She chuckles and you falter in your step.

You almost resent her for even mentioning that to you, but you can’t find it in your heart to do so.

“Happy New Year,” Soobin mumbles as you return from a midnight bathroom run. “Hmm?” You hum, unsure you heard him right.

“Happy New Year,” He repeats, his voice gruff as he sits up, leaning against the headboard. He looks good.

You crawl into the bed, but instead of going back to sleep, you decide to sit up in front of Soobin. 

He stares at you, eyes tired, while you’re practically wide awake.

You brush his hair out of his eyes, gently dragging your hands down to cup his cheeks. You lean in and give him a soft kiss . Your tongue licks his lips, asking for permission to enter. He grants it.

His own hands travel up your sides and to your neck, almost directing you how to kiss him.

You moan into his mouth, unable to control your reactions around him. You lean against his chest, you can feel his heart beating fast, it excites you.

Suddenly you pull away and Soobin looks at you dazed and confused. You pull him to the edge of the bed, already tugging at the band of his sweats. He complies, you two don’t have to speak to know what the other wants. 

Soobin is already halfway hard, but you can feel him thicken up as you drag your tongue across his length.

He holds your hair back and away from your face as you suck him off, you’re gentle and teasing tonight. In that dark room you look up at him with sincerity, you want to show him how grateful you are.

Your tongue swivels around the head of his cock, your cheeks hollowed out as Soobin throws his head back as he cums, you drink up every last drop until he’s begging you to stop.

He falls back onto the mattress, you crawl up next to him into his arms. You press a kiss to his cheek and whisper:

“Happy New Year,”

‘sorry not feeling good gonna stay in tonight :(‘

You press send and within seconds you see bubbles pop up, your friends giving you their best wishes, hoping you will recover soon so you can join them next time.

But you’re actually fine. But you don’t want them to know that.

You toss your phone onto the counter, and practically skip to the couch, giggling like a giddy child. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never watched The Princess Bride, it’s a classic!” You squeal as you lay on the couch, Soobin sits on the other side, letting you rest your feet on his thighs.

“Is it? I’ve never even heard of it,” He shrugs. You gasp and gawk at him, making him crack up. “Is that bad? Stop looking at me like that!” He points at you accusingly.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you until we’ve finished the entire thing, okay?” You prompt. He jokingly nods, and pretends to zip up his mouth and lock it with a ‘key’. You playfully take the ‘key’ and tuck it into your pocket. “Okay press play!”

As you predicted, Soobin is entranced by the movie as soon as it begins. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye every half hour or so, and his eyes are glued to the screen. 

You find it silly how easy he is to read, his expressions give him away so easily. The way his mouth is gaping wide open in shock, how loud he laughs when he finds something funny. You especially like the way his lips pout when he’s paying extra attention to the movie.

Eventually, Soobin has wiggled his way to your side, you both sharing the throw blanket. 

For some reason you can’t keep your eyes off Soobin. Even if your head is turned to the TV, your gaze falls to the man beside you.

Soobin abruptly turns to you, giving you a quizzing look. “What’s up?” He whispers, eyes flickering back to the TV then back to you. You shake your head and yawn. 

“Nothing.” You lie, and lean against his shoulder, deciding to close your eyes for just a moment. 

You feel Soobin gently resting his cheek against your head, and you fall asleep to dream land.

You feel as if you can’t breathe. Not because Soobin’s mom tied your hanbok a little too tight, but because you were currently sitting beside her son, posing for their annual family photo.

Soobin’s sister is holding Dokyung in her lap, her husband to her left. Soobin’s older brother is with his girlfriend, in matching hanbok. 

“Okay, everyone hold still! Honey, go press the button,” Soobin’s mom ushers her husband, and the older man steps out form his place to run and press the camera button on the propped up phone. He hurries back to stand beside his wife.

You put on your best smile, a hand resting atop your belly and the other in Soobin’s. Your h hand is sweaty and damp. You hear the phone click, and there's a bright flash. You blink as your smile falls, feeling dazed. 

“Hold on! No one move yet! Let me check to see if it’s good!” Soobin’s father calls out, and everyone remains in their spots. 

“Oh Dokyung!” The old man laughs. “No silly faces yet, just smile!” He chuckles. Dokyung’s mother giggles and fixes his hair as the toddler seems to find the situation silly. “One more time, smile everyone.” 

He runs back to his wife’s side and you all smile in silence once again. The camera clicks, there’s a flash, and you feel even more tired than before. 

“Perfect!” Soobin’s dad cheers, and Dokyung takes it as a sign to run off. As his parents chase after him, you let out a sigh you had no idea you were holding. 

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling alright?” Soobin helps you stand, and you fake a smile, fanning yourself. “Just need some air, I’m going to step out for a bit, I’m stuffy,” You tell him, letting go of his hand to head towards the front door.

You quietly make your leave, slipping on your outside shoes as you step out onto the small porch. You sit down on the steps, the air is brisk and cold, it feels like you’ve swallowed something minty with every breath.

It’s dark outside, the clouds cover most of the sky and it looks like it might snow again. Behind you, the bright and warm light of the house is contrasting. It’s full of life and love. You can hear Soobin’s family all happily conversing and every once in a while Dokyung's laughter.

As you sit and listen, admiring the peaceful outside, you hear the door open. You bet it’s Soobin here to check on you. 

But you’re surprised when the person grunts as they sit down beside you, looking up at the dark sky.

“If you stay out here for too long, you’ll get sick.” Soobin’s older sister lectures you with a soft tone. You turn to her, confused why she of all people is talking to you.

When you two first met during Christmas, she kept everything cordial and short, you two barely held a conversation alone, almost always someone else was involved. Not to mention half the time you were playing with her son.

“I was about to head back inside,” You lie. She takes a deep breath and nods, still not looking at you. You decide to turn your attention back to the scenery in front of you. You two sit there in awkward silence for a couple more minutes before she finds the courage to speak up again.

“Soobin told me what you plan to do after this.” You pause. She’s talking about after birth. “Yeah,” You cough out.

She finally looks at you, and you look at her. You originally thought the two siblings look nothing alike, but facing her now you can see the resemblance. No wonder Dokyung looked so much like Soobin. 

“Why are you doing all of this? Are you trying to hurt him more?” Her tongue is sharp and unrelenting, it throws you off guard.

“What?” You squeak out, flabbergasted by how upfront she was. Soobin’s sister drops the facade, the way she clenches her jaw you can tell she’s stressed.

“Why go through with the pregnancy? Why involve my brother? Why are you even here at our Seollal celebration? Why are you lying to my parents? Why are you doing any of this?” Each question feels like a knife piercing your heart. You feel as if you can’t breathe.

Out of fear you whip your head around, eyes focused on the cold concrete ground. Soobin’s sister waits for you to answer, she sits patiently.

Why were you doing this? You’ve never asked yourself this question, whether it be because you don’t know the answer, or because you do know and are scared to admit you do. Either way you have no way of explaining yourself.

“If you’re just going to give up on this child, there’s no reason to get my family involved.” She argues. “All you’re doing is making everyone around you suffer. My brother doesn’t deserve to have someone as selfish as you control him like a puppet. He’s his own person, let him make his own decisions.”

“I don’t know what you did to entrance him, but my brother is naive and genuine. He’s known nothing but love from the people around him. How could you force him into this when he’s obviously not ready? You’re not ready, that’s why you’re giving the baby up, right?” She taunts you. 

“I hate how you have my parents believing in this faux relationship you two have. Do you know how happy my mom was when Soobin told her about you? Her children are her treasures, imagine how she’ll feel when she finds out her youngest son was taken advantage of by an immature, irresponsible girl like yourself. You should be ashamed.”

Her words cut deeper and deeper into your already low ego, and you don’t realize you’ve been crying until you let out a sniffle.

“I-I’m sorry,” You choke out. Soobin’s sister stays quiet this time as you break down in front of her.

“I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You repeat over and over again. Deep down you know that no matter what you say, she won’t believe a word you say. You’ve already broken her trust even before meeting her, how do you expect to gain it back?

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sor-” 

“Sis, what the hell?!” You jump at the sound of Soobin’s voice, he sounds furious. 

“Don’t you yell at me! Someone needed to talk some sense into her-” “And why do you think you’re the right person to do so?! You have no right to do any of this!” Soobin steps in front of you as his sister takes her stand. 

“Soobin, I’m doing this for you, for us-” He cuts her off with a scoff. “Sis, I’m not a child anymore. I can take care of myself. This is my business, not yours.”

You’re wiping your tears as you watch the two siblings fight. Soobin’s sister may be older, but he towers over her. She glares up at him, then at you.

“Look what she’s done to you. You’ve never acted like this before. You’re letting her lead your life.” She jabs a finger in your direction.

“No she’s not. Leave her out of this. If you have something to say, you say it to me and only me.” Soobin is stern. Why was he doing all of this?

His sister looks bewildered how her younger brother could ever utter such a thing to her face. She opens her mouth to speak again when the front door opens once more. 

“What’s all this noise? Dinner's almost ready, it’s time to come inside,” It’s Soobin’s mother. Her eyes first land on her two children, taking in their angry expressions. Then her gaze falls to you, hiding behind Soobin with tears in your eyes.

“Dear, why are you crying?” She asks, stretching out hand for you to take. You don’t move, not that you could anyways, because Soobin’s sister begins to yell again.

“Mom, no!” She hisses. “Do you even know who she really is?! She’s using Soobin!” The man mentioned sneers at his sister. “Will you shut up?”

That little insult lights a fire within his sister. She tears away from her brother, and instead confronts their mother. 

“Mother, you need to listen to me. Soobin and Y/n aren’t dating. They aren’t keeping the baby. That woman is going to give the baby up for adoption because she’s a selfish brat who wants to go back to partying and being lazy.” She’s almost begging, grabbing the older woman’s hands and holding them between her own. 

Soobin’s mom is rightfully shocked by this information, her face says it all. She looks at her son, who stands defeated. She turns to you again, and you wish you had turned away because there’s betrayal written in her eyes. 

“Y/n, is this true? Soobin?” She switches between you both, searching for answers. You look to Soobin, waiting for a sign, something, anything.

“See? Mom, you believe me right?” Soobin’s sister almost sounds proud of this. You then realize that Soobin can’t tell his mom, and you suddenly realize his sister was right all along.

You let out a huff and stand up. All eyes are on you.

“Yes ma’am, it’s true. I’m considering giving up the baby for adoption.” You feel as if you’re trying to swallow a lump in your throat as you speak. “Soobin and I have already discussed this. We think this is the best option. I’m really sorry for deceiving you.”

And then it’s like the world goes silent. Like you’ve been drowning and you’re falling deeper and deeper underwater. You’ve fallen so deep, the sound of the world disappears.

What happens next is a blur. You don’t remember much other than Soobin taking your hand, grabbing your belongings and dragging you to his car for a long, tense drive home.

You feel relieved.

For some reason you sound distorted, but it doesn’t seem to bother your son. 

You’re singing him to sleep, he’s swaddled in a blanket, but you can’t seem to make out his face. 

You walk around the kitchen, patting his back, gently moving back and forth in hopes of soothing him. The second you stop he begins to cry a loud scream of terror. You’re panicking, you don’t know what to do.

Where the hell was Soobin? He should be here, this was his baby too.

You’re searching the apartment, trying to be a good mother while searching for the man in question, but he’s nowhere to be found.

You try to call out for him, but you have no voice. There’s no sound. None at all. It’s so quiet something feels wrong. 

You realize you’re empty handed. Your son is gone, missing. The panic begins to settle in quickly. 

You’re spinning around, you’re no longer in the apartment, but your local grocery store. It’s crowded, everyone seems to be getting in your way as you try to move. 

You try to stop someone, anyone. You need help, your baby is gone, your son, someone took him, you’re sure of it.

Someone kidnapped your baby boy.

Why was no one worried, why was no one helping you?! It was like you were all alone in this. 

As you begin to hyperventilate, you spot a familiar figure.

Soobin. You run towards him but it’s like you’re moving through water, slow and frustrating. You try to shout at him, but you forget you can’t make any noise.

So you run and run, but Soobin is getting farther and farther. And even worse, you’ve realized it’s him with your son.

His large back taunts you as he cradles the infant, walking a mile with each step he takes. 

You eventually fall and give up. You’re all alone out there, and not a single soul seems to care.

You wake up with tears rolling down your cheeks, and Soobin shaking you awake. 

“Y/n, wake up,” He sounds worried. You blink your eyes open and quickly wipe your eyes with the back of your hands. 

“Are you okay? You were crying in your sleep,” Soobin asks. You ignore him and stand up, speeding to the bathroom. 

“Y/n,” He’s following you, but somehow you evade him, running inside the bathroom and locking it. 

“Y/n? Y/n. Y/n open the door please,” Soobin knocks. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

How can he say something like that to you? You hate hearing him say such nice things. You wish he’d never said yes to you. You wish he never asked you to move in, you wished he never treated you well.

You sit on top of the toilet, trying your best to cry quietly, because you know you’d be worrying him more if he can hear you.

Soobin is still talking to you through the door.

You’re wiping your eyes with toilet paper when you feel your stomach flip flop and you stop breathing.

Your hands ghost over your belly, as if it would disappear if you touched it. You’re actually a bit relieved. 

Your son was right here with you.

In April, you’re shopping for yourself when you are stopped by someone you wish you hadn’t run into.

You were looking at shoes. Now that you were getting closer and closer to birth, your body was changing more rapidly. Your old sneakers and boots no longer fit your feet without your ankles being strangled.

With what little money your job gave you, you planned on getting the most comfortable pair of slip-on shoes.

“Excuse me, do you have these in a size-” “Y/n?” Your conversation with the employee is interrupted by a familiar voice that has shivers running down your spine.

You pause, not wanting to turn your head. Maybe you could pretend you didn’t hear, that you were not Y/n, and they would leave you alone.

But this person is relentless. You can hear them approach you as you try to talk to the employee again. 

“It is you. Y/n, it’s me, Yeji.”

Hwang Yeji, your ex best friend from high school. You guys never really had a falling out, you just went to different universities. You later found out two years ago that she was talking shit about you to make herself look better to her new uni friends after you reunited at a party.

You turn around and put on your bravest smile. “Oh, Yeji, hey,” Maybe it’s because you’re nervous that you begin to hug your stomach.

You see Yeji’s eyes wander down, then back up at you. Shelooks stunned. You don’t blame her.

“Oh my god. Congratulations!” She puts on a fake smile and goes in for a hug, you put up a hand to stop her. “Thanks. You look good.”

“You look good too!” Yeji laughs, though you know she’s probably rolling around with excitement on the inside.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long!” She squeals, grabbing your hands as if to hold you down. “I’m fine, I actually-“

“We need to get lunch and catch up, are you busy right now? Do you have time? I know a really good kalguksu place nearby here, the owners love me! My boyfriend and I are their favorite customers. You remember my boyfriend Jeno, right?”

Of course you remember Jeno, was she dumb? He was the boy you grew up with, your childhood crush since you were 10. Yeji knew you liked Jeno back when you were younger, yet she still went to date him. You hear they’re pretty on and off now.

“Yeah, I do-“ “Great! I'm actually shopping with him right now, I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you too! You can invite your boyfriend too,” She assumes. “Unless you’re alone?” She flashes you a malevolent smile, and you’re reminded of the hell she put you through just years before.

It’s then that you’re grateful Soobin insisted on joining you, because he arrives just on time to save you.

“Y/n! These shoes look nice and comfortable-” He stops abruptly when he notices Yeji. He approaches you slowly, and is even more taken aback when you yank your hands from her and practically hug him.

“Uh, Hello,” He awkwardly bows, looking between you and Yeji as if unsure what to do. You turn back to Yeji. “Sorry, I am busy actually. My boyfriend and I still have some shopping to do for our baby.” You smile sheepishly. 

“I just love being a mom, you know? I can’t wait to give birth and have more of his kids, because we’re so so in love with each other, isn’t that right babe? Anyways see you Yeji, tell Jeno I said hi!” You say before dragging Soobin away.

You two barge out of the store, leaving the woman in shock. “Who was that?” He asks in a hushed tone, he keeps turning back to get a glimpse of your ex best friend. 

You have to grab his arm and pull him down the street, trying your best to not seem embarrassed or angry as you storm off. 

“No one important,” You huff. You can tell Soobin is staring at you again as you finally let go of him to walk ahead. 

You end up slowing down, running out of breath faster than you can imagine. Soobin stops as you rest against a wall.

“So I’m your boyfriend when it’s convenient for you? Is that all I am to you?” Despite his harsh words, he sounds more confused than anything.

You look up at him, trying to find the right words, because you didn’t want to admit that you wished everything you said to Yeji was true.

“It was just a lie. She was getting on my nerves.” You spit out. Soobin sighs, running a hand through his hair, leaving it a mess. He looks irritated, all because of you.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, trying to show your sincerity through your eyes. Soobin does nothing but look at you, his silence louder than any words he could have said.

You weren’t dating, but you two fucked like you were. That was 100% true.

You’re laying on your back as Soobin laps at your puffy cunt like he’s a starved man.

With every flick of his tongue you let out a whimper, Soobin temporarily stops grabbing you by the jaw. He turns you towards him, allowing him to have access to your pretty lips. He kisses you like his life depends on it, biting and licking your lips.

You’re out of breath, feeling winded and tired, yet you can’t help but move your hips closer and closer to him. This connection between you two was carnivorous, and you wished to be devoured.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” Soobin growls at you, as if he hadn’t just sucked the life out of you while he pumped his fingers in and out of your dripping hole. You only moan, craving him to move and give you that sweet, sweet release. 

Every part of him, his face, his chest, his arms, his fingers, his thighs, his cock, you love it all. You love how he spreads you open in all the right ways, how he's both rough and gentle with you. How he knows what gets you off, the amount of control you trust him to have over you and your body.

“You want more baby?” He asks, his tone switching to something softer as you grind yourself against his hand. You nod, desperate. He does as he’s told, and goes back, holding your legs wide open as he slurps you up. 

Your hands find their way to his head, groping his hair as you push him further into you. You can feel your stomach coil up, your breath hitching. You try to find some stability, gripping the bed sheets, Soobin’s hair, anything to keep your sanity. 

Your orgasm crashes into you, wiping you out completely. As you come down from your high, your body relaxes, losing all energy. Soobin drags himself up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He looks down at you like the prey you are. You’re unaware of what’s to come next, your eyes are closed. 

You feel the bed dip and hear it creek as Soobin joins you. Your eyes shoot open as you feel him rub his tip against your entrance. You’re met with a lustful man, his eyes droopy as he cages you beneath him. 

“Wanna give me one more, please?” He’s so polite, you answer with a simple nod. Soobin smiles, and with a single swift movement, enters your already throbbing pussy.

You hear him whine, something about how tight you felt, but you can’t concentrate. You feel as if you’re seeing stars from just trying to adjust to his size.

Soobin takes no time to start moving, his thrusts are deep and consistent, a rhythm you’ve come to recognize. You pout at him from your position, craving more of his touch. You lift your arms up, asking him to hold you. 

He does more than just hold you, Soobin consumes you. His body wraps itself around you, he becomes all you can see, hear, and smell. Your senses are flooded with him.

He’s like a drug you think, the way he stimulates you, heightens all of your reactions. You get a taste and you’re hooked. 

You lock lips, arms snaking around his neck, pulling him to you as your lips and tongue move in sync with him. Soobin’s hands roam your naked body, from teasing your perky nipples to rubbing your round belly affectionately. 

His hips begin to move rapidly, falling out inconsistently. He’s whining into your mouth, chasing after that high you will so gracefully give him.

“Fuck- Cum in me,” You gasp. It’s not a plea, it’s an order.

And Soobin listens, standing up to hold your legs together. His thrusts become crazed and rampant, his voice creeping out as he can’t control himself anymore.

Soobin collapses as he cums inside you, shaking as you milk him dry. After you lay beside him, his cum dripping out your cunt and onto the sheets, you can’t help but admire the man. 

He lays there, glistening in sweat and breathing heavily. His eyes are shut, a hand is thrown over his face as if to shield him, to you he looks like an angel who just descended from heaven.

You observe him for a moment longer before pulling yourself to sit up. You turn to look back at Soobin, his cheeks are flushed a bright red. You reach over to caress his face, drawing him to finally open his eyes and look at you.

“Let’s take a bath, hm?” You ask quietly. You swear his cheeks get brighter. “Yeah,” Soobin answers, letting you help him up as you two make your way to the bathroom to clean up.

The summer heat is settling in, you’re sweating, thirsty, and uncomfortable, but you have the biggest smile.

Despite your objections, your friends insisted on throwing you a small baby shower. So here you are, standing under a canopy in a public park, surrounded by the most supportive people you know.

You’re wearing a custom crocheted dress your old friend Sakura made just for this occasion, how she got your measurements without your knowledge, you have no idea. But it’s beautiful, you feel beautiful.

Aeri and Minjeong dolled you up, doing your hair and makeup for today, while Jimin and Ningning helped set up the party decorations.

There’s a little table with desserts, another larger one with catering, and folding chairs for everyone to sit on. Jimin even ordered a backdrop for everyone to be able to take photos together. 

You’re sneaking a bite of a cupcake when a hand sneaks around your waist, causing you to spin around. “You’re not supposed to be eating that,” Soobin teases, and you playfully roll your eyes.

“It’s just one bite! Here, finish it for me then,” You lift the cupcake to his mouth, feeding him the blue iced dessert.

Soobin takes a small bite, grabbing the cupcake and placing it back on the table behind you, wiping his mouth with his thumb.

His gaze lingers on you for a little too long, you feel goosebumps grow on your arms. Usually you’d tell him to stop, to leave you alone. But today you were allowing yourself to indulge in your desires.

“I didn’t know Minjeong invited your friends too,” You say, looking over to the small crowd of people in front of you. Soobin doesn’t turn to look, his attention focused on you.

“Yeah, I guess she knows Beomgyu through Heeseung.” He murmurs. You can see Soobin’s best friend conversing happily with a group of guys. Your friends were mingling well. 

You had all these friends gathered here today, yet not a single family member was in the midst. Yours were nonexistent for reasons you and Soobin knew long ago. But after Seollal you found out he’d temporarily cut contact with his sister. You don’t like knowing that he did that for you.

His mother was having a hard time coming to terms with your decision. She still calls and checks up on you two, but she always sounds sad and disheartened. 

You shake your head and try to not think about that stuff, you were supposed to be happy right now.

As you’re trying to find something to lift your spirits, Soobin speaks up. “Did I tell you you look pretty today?” Your head whips around, a little shocked he could say something so blatant to you in public.

“I mean you’re always pretty,” He doubles down a bit nervously. “But you’re especially beautiful today.” His honest words have your cheeks turning red, you’re lucky you’re wearing foundation to cover them. 

“Thank you,” You mumble, looking away from his deep intense eyes. They follow you and your every move. 

Feeling bold, you reach over and grab his hand, and you can visibly see Soobin’s mood perk up from this single physical gesture.

“Come on, I think Jimin said she’s got a game prepared, I need you to win me that body lotion set.” You pull him towards your friends. 

You hear him laugh, and his grip tighten around your hand. Maybe you can be selfish for a bit longer.

It’s the middle of June, and you’ve never been more thankful for Soobin’s apartment having an A/C unit than ever before.

In your old apartment, you always had to fight the heat by doing whatever you could to stay cool. The building was older and despite it being listed as having air conditioning, it really meant a plug in house fan.

You’re currently sitting on the couch, watching a show you’ve been binging all morning. Earlier in the season, a side character revealed she was pregnant, and now in this episode, she was arguing with her husband over baby names. Neither of them could come to a conclusive name they both liked.

You look down at your stomach, you’ve grown so much. You were due in a month in a half, so you were almost bursting at the seams.

Naming your baby was a topic you never really pondered on. Mainly because you felt like you didn’t need to with your decision. But a part of you is curious. You stare at your stomach for a while, internally fighting your conscience on what to do in this situation.

To name really anything you are giving ownership and possession of it. To name a person, you are giving them meaning, personality and a life.

As if urging you to make a decision, your son kicks, his leg pressing against the walls of your womb. You can see the left of your stomach jut out a bit more and usual.

If you do it alone, with no one to witness and persecute you, there is no harm done, right? You ask yourself this question over and over again until your baby moves again, almost as if telling you to hurry up.

You bite your lip, sucking in a tight breath.

“What about… Dongmin?” You say out loud, and it’s like the air grows thick with anticipation. You’re not sure who you’re asking, but you’re waiting for something, anything to give you an answer.

“Or Hyunsoo.” You wait. No one responds. Your anxiety slowly turns into hunger, you want an answer.

“Jisung, Leejoon, Seonwoo, Eunsung!” You begin to list off any name you can think of, eager to get a reaction out of anything. “Hajin, Juyoung, Eunjae-”

Your entire stomach flips. Your son is kicking, punching your side like his little life depends on it.

“That one?” You ask, bewildered that he would react so excitedly. He seems to calm down for a second, maybe it was a bluff.

You bite the inside of your gum, unsure how to read the situation. “Do you like that name?” You ask again, and there’s no response. You hold your breath, testing the waters once more.

Eunjae. Choi Eunjae.” You state loudly. Almost immediately you get a reaction, your son moves about in your belly like he’s doing somersaults.

You begin to laugh, you never thought a single name could elicit something so grand from within your womb.

“Is that right? Your name is Eunjae, Choi Eunjae.” You say again, and you feel your insides tickle. 

As you’re enjoying yourself, the silent apartment begins to consume you, reminding you that you shouldn’t be smiling at all. You shouldn’t even be naming your baby, you shouldn't be doing any of this.

The guilt starts to seep in, and your laughter soon transforms into cries of agony.

At 3 in the morning you wake up and realize Soobin is not in bed. Why are you awake as well? You have to use the bathroom, but you have a feeling that’s the same reason as why Soobin is missing.

After using the restroom, you creep out of the bedroom, yawning as you pad down the hall. What was he doing up so late?

Walking into the kitchen, you see the sliding door to the balcony is open. 

And Soobin is outside, leaning against the railing as he’s talking to someone on the phone. His voice is muffled and quiet.

You tiptoe closer, you know you shouldn’t spy, but your curiosity got the better of you.

“I’m listening.” Soobin sighs, pressing his phone against his ear as he yawns, struggling to stay awake.

“No yeah, I know.” You watch him hum, leaning against the wall for support. 

Whoever he’s talking to must have asked a question that irritates him, because he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Don’t say that.”

He lets out a long and tired sigh, you see him rub his face. “Y/n and I- We- stop acting as if we’re dating mom, you know we aren’t.”

It’s hypocritical, you think. You say it all the time, you and Soobin aren’t dating. You guys are not in a relationship, and you practically preach that you two will never ever get together.

But when you hear him say it out loud, those words you never imagined him speaking, you feel like every spark of hope left in your body has gone off and died.

And the fact that he was telling this to his mom.

You don’t want to listen to what else he has to say, you march back to the bedroom and throw the covers over your head.

You don’t want to cry, you can’t cry, you don’t deserve to cry. You brought this on yourself, you know this. So why were you so heartbroken?

You’re biting your tongue, clenching your fist in hopes of subduing your tears, when you hear Soobin walk back into the room. He stops and stands by the doorway.

He’s there for a moment, and you have to hold your breath.

“No, she’s still asleep,” You hear him say into the phone as he walks off back to the balcony. He shuts the door hastily behind him.

“What’re you doing?” Soobin asks, sounding threatened. You look up from your spot on the floor, caught.

“I’m packing.” You say simply, as if it weren’t already obvious. “Where are you going?” He questions further, stepping into the bedroom and staying by the door as if to block you from leaving.

You look up at him and scoff. “I’m not going anywhere.” You shake your head. You see him relax a bit. “Not yet at least.” 

“I mean, once I have the baby in a couple of days, there’s no reason for us to be living together anymore, right?” You remind him. “I’m just packing now so that I don’t have to worry about it afterwards, to make things easier for us.” 

Soobin stays silent as you turn back around and go back to folding and placing your clothes back into your suitcase.

“But you ended your lease, where will you stay?” He shuffles deeper into the room. “I’m gonna stay with Minjeong until I find a new place.” You try to ignore him to the best of your ability. 

“Why don’t you just stay here until you do? Why move out just to move in with your friend?” He argues, and you get the feeling this has nothing to do with inconveniencing your best friend. 

You huff, and roughly throw in your folded jeans into the suitcase, you can’t find it in you to turn to him, already hurt. “You know why Soobin,” You can see him sit down on the bed out of the corner of your eye.

“There’s no reason for me to stay, it’s not like we’re dating or-” “Then why aren’t we?!”

Soobin’s voice causes the room to shake, and your head snaps at him, eyes wide that he could utter those words at you.

He stares at you intensely, his fist are clenched in anger, his brows furrowed as he is desperately searching your face for an answer.

“We act like a couple, talk like one, sleep together like one- why can’t we?” His voice is so quiet, so meek that you’re reminded of the Soobin you first met that fateful night at that stupid party.

You immediately look away, you can’t even focus on your clothes anymore. He’s asked you a forbidden question.

“Tell me Y/n. I don’t get it.” Soobin pushes. “I’m your boyfriend when you need someone to provide, when an old friend annoys you, when you need to fuck. But suddenly you throw me out the window the second I get too close. I don’t know why but I want to understand you.”

Your gaze is fixed on the floor, your hands resting on your knees as you try your best to not break down in front of him. You couldn’t let him see you cry, you knew he hated it. 

“I-I love you, you know?” Those words open the flood gates.

“I’d do anything for you. I already do. I let you use me, twist me around, break me down. Just because I want you to just like me back. I feel like I’m doing everything I can in my favor, but you-” Soobin stops and sighs, getting off from bed to kneel beside you. He grabs your hands and has you face him. You shut your eyes and keep your head down. 

“I hate seeing you cry,” He mumbles, lifting your head to wipe your tears with his thumb. You try to pull away, but he’s got a firm grip on you. 

“Y/n,” His voice is soft. “I don’t know what’s stopping you, I know you love me too, I know you do.”

You finally open your eyes, and a part of you is relieved your tears have blurred your vision, because you can’t bear to see Soobin’s face once you disappoint him.

“No I don’t,” You lie, shaking your head. Soobin’s hands fall from yours, and you turn your back to him, hiding your sobs as best you can as you immediately regret your words.

You need to apologize, but you’re wiping your tears away when you hear Soobin get up in a rush. He’s out the front door before you can realize. You struggle to get up, hobbling out the front door.

You reach the hallway window just in time to see Soobin speed off, his car furiously disappearing down the street. 

“Fuck.” You cuss yourself out. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-” 

You suck in a breath as you’re leaning against the hall wall when you feel warm liquid run down your legs. Were you seriously so upset that you peed yourself-

A sudden spike of pain shoots up your uterus and you feel as if you can’t breathe. You almost fall to your knees, forcing yourself to stand until the pain dissipates. That’s when it hits you.

Holy shit your water broke.

You waddle back inside the apartment, insearch of your phone. You try to relax your breathing as you find it laying on the bed. You need to call Soobin. You don’t care that you two just had a fight, you needed to-

Your mind goes blank when you hear a familiar ringtone play loudly from the kitchen. You walk over and find Soobin’s phone ringing on the counter. On his screen is a photo of you from the babyshower. It’s a photo you hadn’t realized he’d taken. 

You were laughing at your friends, cradling a plastic baby doll in your arms. You looked so happy, that day he called you beautiful.

You feel your eyes well up again, but your sniffles are interrupted by another sharp pain. This must be contractions or something, because you felt like you were dying as well as needing to take a giant shit. 

But without Soobin here, you don’t know what to do. You never planned that today would be the day, your doctor promised you had at least another week. 

You stand there by the kitchen counter, agonizing in pain. You know you should call an ambulance, that you should call your family, your friends. But the only person you can think about is Soobin.

The man you’d hopelessly fallen in love with was long gone, leaving without a trace.

[dagonyang]

kang taehyun: #1 dagonyang defender

[ggukkiedae]

delicate.

PART 1

when a rumor about you starts to spread about a previous relationship that kept you from falling for people again out of fear, virtually ruining your career, you fly to new york to escape for a bit. there, you run into a previous co-star who does what he can to take your mind off things and treats you as you and not as the actress with the biggest scandal of the year. god, was he making you feel things, but could you risk falling again?

pairing : choi beomgyu x reader

word count : 9.7K

genre : actor!beomgyu x actress!reader, fem!reader, angst, slice of life, fluff, scared of feelings, miscommunications, kinda slow burn

warning/s : cursing, previous toxic relationship, media manipulation, hate

PART 2 COMING SOON

South Korea’s Angel Y/F/N and Nation’s Boyfriend Choi Beomgyu revealed to be starring in Everlasting Shine together.

A smile made its way to your face as soon as you saw the headline. It was finally out to the public, and you wouldn't have to keep pretending you knew nothing about it. This also meant filming would finally start. Well, script readings first, then promotional shoots before actual filming. 

The whole process for Everlasting Shine was strange to you, since the producers had asked you to keep everything secret and to train in close combat for a while. However, since it was a post-apocalyptic series where you’d be fighting your cast, you just went along with it and got training you thought would suit your character. 

Now that the news was out, things were getting real. You would finally be able to meet your castmates and start with filming. That was one of the things you were looking forward to especially after seeing the cast list. Everlasting Shine had a cast that was well-known to the public, especially your co-star. 

Choi Beomgyu. Also known as the Nation’s Boyfriend and a beloved singer-songwriter, he was starring alongside you as the “good guy” of the drama. He had a sudden rise to fame just a year and a half ago, just after he had played a minor character in a drama you were in. You were interested to see how much he had grown in the workplace. Obviously, from what you’ve seen in his projects, he had become a great actor, but you wanted to see how his work ethic grew to be like.

“What’s got you smiling?” Your manager raised an eyebrow at your excitement. You turned your phone towards Soobin with a grin, making him nod in realization. “Ah, yes. Exactly what my meeting just now was about.”

Soobin had always been the best manager you could have ever had. You both started out quite young in your jobs, which made the company assign him as your manager, but he had grown to be the most competent yet compassionate one there is. He was the best manager in the way Soobin always found you the best opportunities that he knew you’d enjoy while still making sure you didn’t get too worn out. He became your big brother in the way where he’d nag you, bicker with you, watch over you, and listen to you no matter how ridiculous the request as long as it was for your own good. Thank god for that since you didn’t want to attend meetings where they’d just discuss things that don’t need your opinion or input anyway.

You jumped, “Really? What’s up next? Do I still have to train? When’s the first script reading? When next month does filming start?”

The look on Soobin’s face made you want to back away. Not only was he presenting you with an apologetic smile, but it wasn’t the smile where he didn’t know the answer. It was the smile he had when he needed to break bad news.

“Oh no,” you backed away, “I know that look.”

In that moment, Taehyun walked into the room. Taehyun, your best friend and your bodyguard. He was with you throughout your entire career, and even before that. He was like your voice of reason who kept you out of trouble or from getting hurt by your own rash decisions. You trusted him with your life, and he always had your back. Which was why you’d hide behind his back every now and then. Now was one of those times.

“Tyun,” you hid behind him, “manager dearest is about to drop bad news, I can feel it.”

Taehyun shook his head in false exasperation. “Really? Right when I’ve finished parking?”

“Oh, relax,” Soobin began. “Y/n, and you by extension, Taehyun, will be lying low for the next few days.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Soobin began, “some rookie actor has been saying some negative things about you, so we’re going to let that die down first. South Koreans will believe their angel more than some rookie.”

You frowned. How could someone who didn’t know you say bad things about you? But you nodded and looked to Taehyun. “Looks like apartment hangouts will fill our schedule while they deal with… Who was this?”

“Lee Junsu.”

The name made you freeze. It was a name you knew all too well, and one you never thought you’d have to hear again. You exchanged looks with Taehyun. It had been five years since then… It couldn’t be the same person, could it? But who else would try to bring you down?

“You don’t think?” Taehyun looked at her in worry.

You shook your head. “It could just be the same name.”

“But no one else would have reason to go against you.”

“It’s been five years, I don’t think he’d still try.”

“Y/n, he was practically insane.”

“I’m sorry,” Soobin interrupted your mini spiel with Taehyun, “what am I missing here?”

Right. You’ve never told Soobin about your only previous relationship, mostly because it was a time you didn’t like to remember. It damaged the way you thought of yourself and your trust in others so much that you couldn’t even dream of trying to be involved with someone romantically ever again. Even making new friends after that relationship was hard. It took you two years to become close to Soobin, for God’s sake.

“Later,” Taehyun shook his head, “first, tell me. What’s this Lee Junsu trying to say?”

“Oh, um,” the eldest looked at his tablet, “that Y/n isn’t who we think she is. That she’s manipulative and that he’s uncomfortable with her because of some experiences in high school. Not much detail after that. Here’s a picture of him.”

The photo on the tablet he turned towards you sent shivers down your spine. The seemingly warm smile raised the hair on your arms as you remembered how cold the words spilling from it could be. You remembered how tight his grip could get, and how broken he could have your mind within a few minutes.

Taehyun, recognizing the face as well, glared and shut the tablet off. He brought you to sit on a nearby chair and tried to get you to calm down.

“I’m okay, just annoyed,” you looked at Taehyun, but he looked at her disbelievingly, “Fine, I’m kinda scared. But it’s him. Taehyun, I can’t deal with him again. I didn’t think I’d have to—”

Your breath was getting short, thinking back on the times he’d try to keep you from breaking up with him.

“Breathe,” Taehyun looked you in the eye and paced his breathing for you to follow. “Follow my breathing. He won’t get close to you, alright?”

“Hey,” Soobin’s voice was followed by his hurried footsteps before kneeling next to Taehyun in front of you, “are you alright? Stupid question, you’re not. What’s going on? What am I missing?”

Taehyun simply looked up at you as if asking for permission. You let out a long breath before nodding at him. It was about time her manager found out about him. Your best friend nodded then proceeded to help you up.

“Let’s get you back home, then we can tell Soobin, alright?”

You nodded and were about to thank him when a familiar voice rang through the hallway. 

“Alright, Y/n, time to get you in our magic chair so you can look alive in your meetings— wait. Who do I have to fight?”

A small smile made its way up to your face as your stylist made his presence known. Yeonjun had only joined your team just a year and a half ago, but he was able to join your close circle, which used to consist of just Taehyun and Soobin, in a small amount of time (Soobin and Taehyun liking him a lot was a big help in speeding up the process). He always made it a point to listen to your ideas, try new things, and still keep you looking good while keeping your personality. It wasn’t even two hours into his first day when he started going off about your previous stylist’s bland attempts of keeping your angel image.

Just like Soobin, Yeonjun had become like a big brother to you. He didn’t just care about his job, he took care of you. 

Which was why he was currently frowning, demanding Taehyun and Soobin for answers. The stylist’s mouth was moving in a way where you knew he was rapid-fire asking questions or ranting, and you could hear his voice, but the words were just sailing over and past your head.

“Can we go back to my place?” Your voice caught everyone’s attention. “I promise Taehyun and I will tell you guys everything.”

Yeonjun’s worry lightened as he looked at how upset you look. “Sure thing. I’ll order Chinese.”

Needless to say, by the end of the night, Yeonjun and Soobin were angry and looking for ways to take Lee Junsu down. (Though, if legally or illegally, the answer would depend on who you ask. Unless you ask Taehyun. He says both.)

What was supposed to be a few days turned into a week, then a week and a half, then eventually two weeks. Those two weeks were filled with the media trying to dig up your past with Junsu. That’s all you knew for sure, though, since your circle had decided to keep you from social media. That alone, though, told you things weren’t going too well. That’s why you were ecstatic when Soobin messaged you at the end of the first week that you could get back to working by the end of week two and asked you to come to the company the day before to get ready. 

Well, there you were on the last day of the agonizingly long two weeks of house arrest, at the company bright and early to hear what was in store for you.

“Hey,” you smiled while walking up to Soobin, “what’s on the schedule today, Mr. Manager?”

“You’re too chipper at this time,” he sighed but gave you a smile in return, “good morning, Y/n. You don’t actually have any schedules today, just a photo shoot for Everlasting Shine tomorrow with Choi Beomgyu. I thought you’d want to have breakfast together. It’s been a while, just you, me, Yeonjun, and Taehyun.”

The two he mentioned had just turned into the hallway as their names slipped out of Soobin’s mouth. Their idle conversation was interrupted as soon as you met eyes with Yeonjun. 

The stylist grinned at you before leaving Taehyun’s side to fix your hair. “There’s our Angel. You ready to get out of here? I heard that some American diner-style restaurant with great corn dogs just opened thirty minutes from here.”

“Oh no,” Soobin cut in, “we agreed on breakfast in the building.”

You pouted at that. They had been cooping you up in your apartment or in the company for two weeks, and it was getting suffocating. Even your food deliveries were monitored by Taehyun… Which made sense because he was your bodyguard, but still! 

It’s not like you were an idol with those crazed fans that do anything to be noticed. You were an actress, and actors and actresses never had the same restrictions as idols. But even idols got to receive their own delivery food. Not you, though. This stupid controversy was keeping you from doing anything. 

Yeonjun was about to protest, but Taehyun spoke up. “It’s just not safe. You’ve seen what the people are saying and how the media is reacting. As her friend, it’s my job to make sure she’s okay. As her bodyguard, it’s my job to make sure she doesn’t get hurt. We are eating here.”

The finality in his tone almost made it sound like he was the eldest out of everyone there. 

“This isn’t fair,” you brushed past Soobin and into his office behind him. “The PR team isn’t doing anything about the whole situation, and I can’t even post on social media about it.”

Soobin followed her in with an apologetic look in his face. “Listen, Y/n. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is. They don’t want to release a statement until they gather all the proof to debunk the statements and evidence against you. And, I hate to say this, but Junsu fabricated everything way too well. As for social media, if you go on and make a statement before the proof of your innocence is gathered, all shots will be fired against you. I don’t want you in any trouble.”

“They’re making it seem like I’m a convict.” A disappointed sigh escaped your lips as you slumped onto the chair, quiet mutters following soon after. 

You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing to stop yourself from getting upset. This made you miss the silent exchange between your three friends. Yeonjun gave the two somewhat stricter boys pointed looks, mouthing a ‘she looks so sad’ to them. 

Taehyun had rolled his  eyes, but Soobin pursed his lips. You did deserve some type of break after being cooped up and silenced for about two weeks and running. He would regret this, but he was your friend before he was your manager.

“There’s a small restaurant behind the company,” Soobin’s voice made you look up at him in surprise, “and it’s somewhat hidden. I guess we can go there.” 

“What?” Taehyun’s surprised reaction was drowned out by your and Yeonjun’s cheers.

In excitement of going outside, not even caring that it isn’t the diner you and Yeonjun had originally wanted, you threw your arms around Soobin. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He chuckled but ruffled your hair. Yeonjun got up behind you and pinched your cheek. “She’s literally so adorable, how could anyone believe those rumors?”

Taehyun pushed his way between you and the two boys before anyone could answer the question. “Bodyguard coming through.”

This made all of you laugh, easing the earlier atmosphere. And, as always, it felt like a normal hangout with friends rather than a breakfast run with your circle.

It was a great feeling, to finally be out again, even if it was in a small and secluded place without much people. Laughter filled the small dining area of the restaurant as the four of you joked around. Yeonjun was constantly taking pictures and arguing with Taehyun while Soobin was doing his best to confiscate the eldest’s phone. You, on the other hand, were simply basking in the fact that you weren’t in the company or your apartment.

Sure, there was the occasional group of people double taking and looking through the windows, but Taehyun always made sure to shift himself in order to hide you from the outside. You could tell him a thousand times that he was off duty, but his protective instinct never let up. Of course, Yeonjun had teased him for never exiting work mode. The mood was light and fun, and it felt like everything was back to normal.

That is, until just after you had paid the bill.

Just as you were handing the bill and your payment to the waiter, there was a slight ruckus outside. Of course, the outer wall of the restaurant being made of glass, you could easily see all the people gathering outside with their phones and, were those cameras? 

“Is that Y/f/n?”

“Y/n! Can we get a statement on the accusations?”

“That bitch, look at her having fun fully knowing she traumatized and hurt so many people!”

A breath got caught in your throat as you turned your widened eyes towards your friends. Taehyun was quick to move by your side while Yeonjun threw his jacket on you, securing the hoodie around your head to keep your face hidden. 

“We’re gonna go through the crowd, alright?” Taehyun calmly whispered while keeping one of his arms around you and the other in front of you. “Yeonjun’s gonna be on your other side to make sure nobody touches you.”

You looked up at him, stopping your progress forward. “You guys might get hurt!”

“We don’t care about that right now,” Yeonjun tightened his grip on your arm. “They’re practically bombarding only you with questions and unsolicited statements. They’re not after us.”

“But–”

“What are you still doing here?” Soobin’s voice was louder than he normally would let it reach. “The crowd’s gonna get worse, let’s go!”

“You’ll be fine,” Taehyun’s voice was firm as he led the pace. 

Then you were out the door.

People were yelling, questioning you whether you actually did know Lee Junsu and all the other people who were speaking up about things you’ve done to them. There were people demanding you to speak up about the whole situation, whether it’s to defend yourself or lash out against the people accusing you. Hands were tugging on your clothes and pushing you around. Was it really this big of an issue? Why didn’t they tell you? But this couldn’t have all resulted from just one article. What weren’t they telling you?

You could feel your chest tightening, the breakfast you had just eaten churning in your stomach. The shouts all became muffled almost as if you were underwater while your vision, although mostly blocked by the hood Yeonjun had draped over your head, became blurry as your three friends helped push your way out of the crowd. You could tell that Yeonjun and Taehyun were yelling, but their words sounded way too far away from you. Suddenly, it felt like they were far away. 

You were drowning, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

The drowning feeling didn't leave, not even when you were sitting outside your CEO’s office while waiting for Soobin to come back from his meeting with the CEO and the PR team. In your stead, Yeonjun had come in to help explain what had happened, leaving you with Taehyun.

Breathing felt like lifting weights, and your surroundings were still muffled. All that you could do was try to calm down while watching Taehyun pace in front of you in worry until his mutters became decipherable to you. 

“I should have said no.” 

“Tyun.” Your attempt to get his attention fell on deaf ears. 

“We were supposed to just stay in here, but no. You just had to give in to them.”

“Taehyun?”

“She could have gotten hurt.”

“Please, Taehyun.”

“Fucking hell, they all could have gotten hurt.”

“Kang Taehyun!” His head snapped towards you at your outburst. “Can you stop blaming yourself? No one would have known that would happen.”

He ran a hand down his face before sitting next to you and handing you his water bottle. His eyes were apologetic as he waited for you to finish drinking water. “Are you okay?”

“I could be better,” a humourless laugh slipped past your lips. “Are you hurt?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he scolded you, “and worry about yourself. I’m debating on packing you up and shipping you off to New Zealand where no one will find you.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the doors to the office opened. Yeonjun walked towards you, face grim while Soobin’s heated voice behind him carried into the hallway.

“Soobin’s trying to convince them against it, but I don’t think they’ll change their mind.” He gave an apologetic smile before dropping the news. “You’re going on hiatus for the next month at least. They’re pulling you out of Everlasting Shine.”

The air grew heavy since the two boys knew how excited you were to start working on Everlasting Shine. All the hard work you went through while auditioning and physically training for your role went down the drain. You wanted to run away to where no one would find you.

Run away… Taehyun’s last statement made its way to your mind. Going to another country to escape for a while didn’t sound like a bad idea. But everyone would know if you went to New Zealand. It was no secret you wanted to visit the quiet country and surround yourself with nature. You needed somewhere no one would expect you to want to go to. Somewhere loud, busy, and not peaceful at all. Somewhere new to you.

That’s when it hit you.

“What did you just think of?” Yeonjun asked you suspiciously.

“Nothing,” you smiled at him before turning to Taehyun with a smile “I’ll see you soon. Can we go home?”

After everything that happened, how could he say no to you?

Sneaking away from Taehyun seemed almost impossible. 

First of all, since your apartments were directly in front of each other, your noisy door would immediately alert the light-sleeper and make him check up on you. He also tended to check in on you every thirty minutes, casually walking in with the help of his spare keys.

To your delight, at around three in the morning, you heard his door open and the sound of the elevator. He was probably off to workout because he couldn’t sleep (like an absolute monster, in your opinion). You took that as your opportunity and took a cab to the airport. 

16 hours of avoiding phone calls, ducking under hats and masks, watching movies, and reading later, you had arrived.

New York.

Everyone liked to think that they knew you, which isn’t false. You were an open book for the whole of South Korea to read, which is why they know that your idea of escaping would be going to a green country like New Zealand or Iceland. They knew that you would catch a flight there as soon as you needed to destress because you’d want to get away from all the people, skyscrapers, and noise.

Which is why you flew to New York. No one would expect you to go to the busiest city in the world, especially knowing you would get uncomfortable around the rush. It was a pretty smart and foolproof plan, and no one would find you. You adjusted the sunglasses on your face and took a quick look around. No heads turning, no whispering, no chasing. It was perfect.

Until you took your phone off of airplane mode.

You winced when you saw all the notifications rush in. There were hundreds of text messages from your group chat, and from the three boys individually. There were even over a hundred calls, most of them from Soobin. Huh, it looks like Taehyun probably tried to check in on you after his “can’t sleep workout” and told the others you were missing.

A familiar photo of your stylist falling over while playing badminton made its way on screen, requesting a facetime call. That’s what they must have turned to when they realized you must have turned your phone on airplane mode.

Preparing yourself for the scolding you were about to get, you found a somewhat secluded corner, took a deep breath, and picked up the call, keeping the camera off and your phone close to your ear.

“How’s my favorite stylist?”

“Y/f/n!” Yeonjun’s voice sounded relieved, worried, and angry all at the same time, making you sigh. “Do you know how fucking worried we are right now? When Taehyun called us at half past four in the morning saying you and a bunch of your stuff were missing, we all thought you had run off and fallen into a ditch or something!”

Maybe you should have left them a note… Oh well. Too late for that.

“Ask her if she’s hurt,” Soobin’s voice sounded from the phone, followed by Taehyun.

“Tell her to turn on the camera. I don’t think any of us can relax until we see her.”

“Guys, I’m safe.” You quickly connected your airpods before holding the phone further away and turning on the camera with a smile on your face. “See? No scratches or anything, and I have everything I need with me.”

Luggage. Clothes. Shoes. Toiletries. Laptop. Phone. Earphones. Chargers. Petty cash. Credit card. Debit card. Passport. Yup, everything you needed was complete.

Your three friends’ faces appeared on screen as well, looks of relief washing over their faces as they observed you. Soobin’s eyebrows furrowed as he observed you. Or something behind you. You turned around and saw a sign that clearly read “Arrivals'' hanging behind you. A sheepish laugh escaped your lips.

“Y/n,” he began, “I’m going to ask you this once, and I want you to be straight to the point okay?”

“I feel like I already know what you’re gonna ask but okay.”

“Where are you?”

“JFK.”

Yeonjun scoffed, “Well, Jesus fucking Christ to you, too. We just want to know where you are!”

A moment of silence passed in the call before Soobin sighed and Taehyun hit the back of Yeonjun’s head. “That’s JFC. I’m pretty sure she means she’s in JFK Airport. Does New York ring a bell to you?” 

You laughed at their antics. If anything, seeing those two bicker while Soobin judged them would probably be what you’d miss the most for however long you were planning on being gone. 

“Yeah,” a smile stuck on your face, “I’m in New York. I have an airbnb here for the next week, and I’ll probably spend most of my time there. Don’t worry about me.”

“Send me the address,” Yeonjun yelled as he walked towards what looked like his closet, “I’ll be there by tomorrow.” 

“No!” Your call made the three boys on the other end jump slightly, “I don’t want you guys to get in trouble with the company. I’ll be fine on my own for a bit, okay?”

Taehyun looked at you questioningly. “You sure?”

All you did was smile and nod. It’s not like you weren’t an adult who could handle yourself. Besides, it would probably be nice not to pester your three friends for a while. They were the ones who were with you practically everyday.

“Fine,” Taehyun relented, “but at least update us once a day! And say it the moment you need us, you know we’ll fly to you.”

“Got it,” you smiled before turning to your manager who looked wrapped up in thoughts. “Soobin?”

“Hm?” He looked back to the call. “Ah, yeah, don’t worry. If the company tries to hunt you down, I’ll reason with them. It should be easy considering they cancelled all your schedules.” 

“Thank you.”

With the chaos over with, you hung up and went to get your luggage, getting ready to go to your airbnb. But, for some reason, staying in the airbnb was the last thing you wanted to do that night. 

The cab ride going there just showed you how pretty everything was. The buildings were tall enough to the point where the lights from the top floors looked a little like stars. Amidst the traffic and the horns honking, music played throughout the whole route. People in corporate attire headed home while others were all glammed out and getting ready for a fun night. Everything looked exciting, even that one little kid you saw dropping his hotdog by accident.

Seeing all the people experience the city in a way you would have never normally done on your own made you curious. Was it going to be as fun as it looked? Would everything be as pretty as it was from the backseat of the cab? Maybe it was worth a shot to explore.

Slipping on a slightly more but not too formal white tweed set and sneakers, you found yourself leaving the airbnb, looking around for somewhere you could grab dinner. That wasn’t exactly your best idea.

When you said you weren’t made for the city, you meant it. You weren’t prepared for the bustling people pushing past you or the close calls with cars speeding as soon as the light turned green (or before that, even). Luckily, none of your stuff fell out of your bag, and you never actually hit the ground.

But you needed to breathe.

That’s why, the moment you caught a glimpse of a more isolated alley, you stumbled your way over there. A door caught your eye.

It was a brown wooden door with black metal detailing, making it look like the door of some type of cottage. There was the smallest garden (if you could call a few potted plants shoved together with the plants growing into each other a garden) slightly separating it from the street. A wooden sign hung above it in true old fashion.

Magic Island: Bar and Restaurant

The corner of the sign had a modern sticker saying 24/7 on it, slightly ruining the concept, but at least it told you that it was open. After double-checking your wallet, you walked in through the door to find stairs leading up to the rooftop. You climbed up the stairs. .

It wasn’t what you expected a rooftop bar and restaurant to look like. The floor was cobblestone, wooden tables and chairs with the same black metal detailing as the door littered across the whole area. A fishpond in the corner called your attention. On the opposite side of the room from the fishpond, there was an elevated wooden floor separated from the rest of the cobblestone floor with a black metal railing. That’s where the bar was.

“Welcome to Magic Island,” a waiter greeted you as you took in everything, “is there anywhere in particular you’d like to sit?”

Your eyes glanced towards the tables near the fishpond immediately, but they were four-seaters. It would be unfair if you asked to sit there.

A chuckle brought your attention back to the waiter who began to walk, gesturing you to follow. “You can sit there, it’s slow hours right now, anyway.”

A protest made its way up your throat, but you glanced around. There were only three or four other customers there, so there was quite a lot of space. You gave the waiter a grateful smile before settling down and allowing him to explain the menu to you. After ordering some pasta and sparkling lemon juice, you pulled out your phone to snap a selca with the fish pond behind you.

Y/n: *image attached* Y/n: Dinner at the prettiest cottage core place! YJ: Send some over! I don’t want Taehyun’s protein shakes for breakfast TH: You asked for them, excuse me? SB: Send food pics! If you like it, we can go there together! And stay off social media… Y/n: Will do!

You smiled as you looked at the messages. For sure, those three were still worried about you, but they were doing their best not to show it. It was sweet. However, no matter how sweet they were, you still felt the urge to go against Soobin’s wishes and open twitter, especially since you didn’t have anyone to stop you. You did, also searching your name as soon as you touched the search bar. A headline of a shared article caught your attention.

–

BREAKING NEWS: South Korea’s Angel Y/F/N Not as Angelic as She Seems

Six years into her career, Y/F/N is at her peak. The general public always rave about the dramas she is a part of, saying how she is such a great actress for excellently pulling off all those antagonist roles, especially the villainous and psychopathic ones, despite having the sweet disposition that earned her the nickname of South Korea’s Angel. 

It turns out, she isn’t too far from the roles she has played. 

Lee Junsu, a rookie actor in the industry, recently spoke up about what Y/n was like during their younger days. He spoke as both her ex-friend and ex-boyfriend. 

Y/n allegedly was extremely possessive and controlling over her friends and boyfriend, to the point where she’d become both obsessive and manipulative in trying to keep them with her and  doing what she wanted. Junsu reported that she would always stop him from auditioning in companies, claiming she should be the only one to become an actress. He reported that she would guilt trip him for stealing her chances whenever he went to apply and that she’d get angry when he spent time with his other friends without her, especially when he would forget to tell her about it. 

He also emphasized on the fact that she would only keep guy friends around, and never made time to be friends with other girls. She would get angry when they spoke to other girls, but she didn’t control them the way she did her boyfriend. 

Some of their previous friends have also spoken up saying that Y/n was rude as well, always pointing out the worst things and making fun of them. Screenshots of previous conversations with her surfaced, showing how she’d talk about her “friends” behind their backs.

As of this morning, there were additional rumors about her having bought her way into her career since it was revealed that she came from a wealthy family. There are, however, no further details on this additional detail to Y/n’s real character.

Despite all this, she somehow found a way to charm herself into becoming South Korea’s Angel. 

Y/n and Magic Entertainment both are yet to make a statement regarding the situation. However, judging by the silence and the sudden disappearance of the actress herself, the allegories are, in fact, true. 

–

With a roll of your eyes, you throw your phone onto the table in front of you and bury your face in your hands. None of that was true! If anything, it was the other way around. Junsu was obsessed with you and outdoing you in the industry. He literally spent months after you breaking up with him (for good reason, too, since he was hurting you constantly) trying different methods to get you to date him again. Gifts, apologizing, following you around, even gaslighting you by saying he was ruined without you. It only stopped when you blocked him, changed all your social media, and moved away for the rest of senior year and university. You had made your acting debut in freshman year of university, and it scared you, thinking he’d take that opportunity to look for you. But he never showed up, so you thought he had given up on you. You were wrong.

It looked like he still had a vendetta against you, especially now that you’ve definitely outdone him. But it was years ago, couldn’t he let it go?

“Finally in a scandal, huh?”

You jolted up in shock as someone addressed you. To your surprise, the last person who you’d ever expect to see was looking at you with a small smile on his face while he rested against the railing dividing the ground from the fishpond.

Choi Beomgyu.

You groaned. Of all people who could find you, it was who your Everlasting Shine co-star was supposed to be.

“Don’t you have a shoot for the drama?”

“Everlasting Shine?” He tilted his head in curiosity. “They postponed the whole schedule last week, that’s why I haven’t gone back to Korea yet. I opted out of the contract this morning, too.”

“So they didn’t even bother telling me until yesterday,” you muttered before burying your face in your hands once again. “Are you gonna curse me out, too?” 

“Nah. I don’t believe them.”

You lifted your head to see a slightly teasing smile on his face. He gestured to the seat in front of you asking if he could take it, making you raise your eyebrow at him. You nodded, allowing him to settle in the chair either way.

“That makes you, my bodyguard, my manager, and my stylist, then.”

“Which makes no sense,” he rested his elbows on the table, leaning closer and speaking low as if he were gossiping. “More people should be on your side. You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever seen. You're always so respectful to your staff and co-stars and you don’t brag or put yourself on a pedestal. Why would anyone believe some no-name-rookie over you?” 

His description seemed a little too personal to be an observation through the screen. “How would you know that?”

“I’ve worked with you before.”

“I know,” you looked at him, remembering the role from a few years ago. You played the spoiled daughter of a CEO, and Beomgyu played your character’s weird henchman/personal guard. You shook your head. “I just thought you would have forgotten about me after both your acting and music careers skyrocketed, Mister Nation’s Boyfriend.” 

“Why would I forget about you? South Korea's Angel! Especially when you helped me on set and my role with you was what made my career skyrocket?” 

A short silence enveloped you two after the brief round of laughter. You both probably remembered the same thing. Beomgyu had been so nervous on set back then that his few lines were all monotonous. As soon as you could see the director getting frustrated, you had excused yourself, saying you were dizzy. You remember sneaking to his waiting room and giving him a pep talk. 

He had obviously felt stressed, so you took it in yourself to comfort him or even get his mind off of it. Ironically, nearly three years later, it was the other way around.

“Hey,” he leaned back, “can I buy you a drink? My treat since you’re going through all this shit. Actually, dinner’s on me, too.”

You looked at him skeptically. He seemed as genuine as the Beomgyu you worked with from years ago, and he did show no signs of being in any way repulsed by the idea of you. And, despite having only really spoken just then, he was the only person you knew in New York. 

“I can drive you back to wherever you’re staying, too, since I am the only person you know here. So?”

For some reason, hearing your thoughts come out of his mouth made you feel like you could trust him even more. You shrugged.

“Sure.”

“Nice. Kai! Can we get a sangria here, thanks!”

You raise an eyebrow at him once again. 

“I’m a regular here,” he laughed before standing up and looking to where, presumably, Kai was already attempting to put Beomgyu’s food on a tray, “hold on, I’ll just grab my stuff from my table. I’ll be back.”

Dinner with Beomgyu was more pleasant than you thought it would be. He never brought up the scandal again, and he carried the conversation almost the entire night. Not once did he let silence come over you. You didn’t notice until the night was over and he had dropped you off at the place you were staying in, but you were grateful for his company. 

Not once did he bring up the scandal. He didn’t even bring up your line of work, which was something you deeply appreciated. Instead, he told you about why he loved New York and why he loved the small restaurant you were in. (“Not to mention they have the sweetest and most handsome Korean-American waiter who I’ve become close friends with. Right, Kai?” “Forget it. You’re not getting bottomless sangria for the price of one glass.”) 

It was a nice experience, and he didn’t pry too much about you or your life. Sure, he was friendly and genuine, but that didn’t mean you would just put everything out on a platter for him. To be fair, you were pretty sure you scared him off with how quiet you stayed for most of the night.

So, when Choi Beomgyu appeared at the door of your airbnb the next day, a big smile on his face and a spare motorcycle helmet in hand, you were surprised.

“Good morning,” his bright and cheery voice made you shrink back just a little, “get ready, quick. We’re going to Sutton Place Park for breakfast.”

“It’s eight in the morning, I just woke up.”

“I know. Your pajamas are cute, by the way. You a fan of BTS? Because I’m pretty sure I can get you an autograph.”

Your eyes widened as you looked down at the BT21 pajamas you were wearing. You ran towards the bedroom, yelling at Beomgyu over your shoulder to come in and close the door. His laugh echoed throughout your place as you pulled some clothes from your luggage. Before heading into your bathroom, you stuck your head out the bedroom door and looked at him. “I’ve got some food in the fridge and the cupboards in the kitchen. Help yourself, I’ll be 20 minutes.”

Sure enough, 20 minutes later, you walked out the door in a white pleated skirt and blazer set, ready to actually face your would-have-been co-star with at least some dignity. But his lips pressed into a tight line when he saw what you were wearing.

“Y/n,” he shook his head, “what are you wearing?”

You gave him an offended look. “Hey, I like sets.”

“They’re cute, yeah,” he shrugged his jacket off, “but we’re having breakfast near Queensboro, not grabbing cocktails at Daniel. Here.”

The navy blue and white varsity jacket felt heavy in your hand, but you put it on anyway, taking comfort in the fact that it at least matched your color scheme for the day. Pretty soon, the blazer was replaced by the jacket, and a satisfied Beomgyu was smiling at you.

“So,” you asked him, “any reason you wanted to kidnap me from my perfectly good airbnb?”

Beomgyu snorted while leaning against the kitchen island. “Please, you came to New York to sit around in your place? When you’ve made a friend with a New York resident?”

“We’re friends? And you’re not a New Yorker.”

“First of all, ouch,” Beomgyu scoffed, “I was befriending you and you just did that?”

Your eyes widened, “No, I’m sorry! I can’t really– Making friends is– I don’t—”

“It’s fine,” he chuckled at you, “I’ve seen enough of your interviews to know you take more than one dinner to call someone a friend.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, New York resident. Not New Yorker. I studied here for a bit as a kid, you know? And I’ve been staying here for a while.”

You looked at him a little cautiously. His presence was intimidating, but not in the way where it made you want to back away. It was intimidating in a way where it felt like he could rule the world easily with how confident he was in himself. And, somehow, he didn’t make it look cocky or arrogant. 

The eye contact he maintained felt almost too much for you. Yes, you visited a lot of talk shows and did interviews, but those usually had cameras and audiences that you could divert your attention to every few seconds or minutes. It wasn’t like that in real life. Beomgyu’s gaze held yours, never once wavering unless to chuckle or shake his head. It was almost too much, but it wasn’t.

He was so confident and self-assured, so what was he doing with someone so shy? On that note, his career was going amazing, so what was he doing hanging out with someone whose reputation was getting worse by the minute?

“Don’t look at me like that,” he gave you a pointed look. “I’ve made it my own personal goal to become your friend, and, as a good friend would do, I’m bringing you to a nice spot in New York where I know won’t be too overwhelming. You in?”

You looked at the helmet he was holding out to you for a second. Should you go? It felt like he was being genuine in wanting to be your friend. Besides, he was probably hiding from the Korean media as well, so he wouldn’t rat you out, right? 

With only the smallest bit of hesitation because you could hear your best friend’s voice in the back of your head (“Make friends, but be careful!”), you took the helmet and looked back up to meet his eyes.

“Great,” He got off the counter and headed to the door, opening it for you. “After you, Angel.”

You let out a small laugh. “I don’t think I’m South Korea’s Angel right now.”

“You’re not,” he smiled at you, a softer one compared to his earlier grin, as he helped you down the steps and onto his motorcycle. “Right now, you’re just Angel. Not South Korea’s Angel. Forget about that while you’re here, alright?”

“Alright.”

“And hold on tight. Riding a motorcycle is different in real life compared to on set.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. The wind felt a lot more violent and unpredictable, and you were sure that your hair would have been a billion times more messy if it weren’t for your helmet. But it was a great feeling. The smile never left your face the whole ride there, and the bustling noise of the city seemed somewhat pleasant in a weird disturbing way. You were almost disappointed when Beomgyu parked the motorcycle.

“Off you go, ma’am,” he helped you off the motorcycle and grabbed a little black bag that you didn’t notice earlier. He led you towards a bench. “Come on. Do you like people watching?”

“I… actually do.”

“Good, you’ll like it here.”

The first thing that came to your mind in response to that was to object. You knew you were in a busy city, probably the busiest in the world, so why would you like people watching when there are too many people who could get way too close? But you took a look around the place. 

The sounds of the river flowing filled the area as barely anyone listened. You could hear the car horns in the distance, but it wasn’t enough to bother you. There were probably around seven or eight people walking around the area you were in, so it wasn’t crowded at all.

“This is one of my favorite places to go,” Beomgyu told you.

Looking at him, you could practically feel his peace influencing you to relax as well. He smiled with such fondness, a smile that could only be given to something a person has grown attached to. 

He casually sat on one of the available benches, placing his bag on the floor and helmet on top og it with certain movements, as if he had done it multiple times before. An expectant look reached you as he looked back to gesture to you to follow his lead. You could only comply and sit next to him.

“It shows.”

“What?”

You gestured around yourselves, only getting a little distracted by what you saw around you, “That you love this place. I can see it in the way you take everything in.”

Beomgyu looked at you curiously before turning back to look at the river. “It kinda feels like home, you know? Just without the Dispatch cameras following our every move or the average citizen recognizing who we are.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant completely. Sure, you had an international fanbase, but it wasn’t so big that you’d be recognized almost everywhere you go like in Korea. However, looking at the busy people in their own bubbles whizzing by while the river flowed without hesitation in the background did seem nostalgic to being at the Han River.

It felt strange, though, being there with Beomgyu. You originally designated going to the Han river and people watching to either be an activity done alone or on a date. You haven’t even gone to the Han river with any of your friends. It felt strangely intimate…

Although, it probably didn’t count because you weren’t sitting by the actual Han river.

A quick motion to your left brought you out of your thoughts as Beomgyu had practically snapped himself forward to reach into his bag. Why he didn’t just lift it up, you would never know.

He sheepishly takes out a container that looked like a chemistry experiment gone wrong and handed it to you.

“I thought you’d like a little dessert to start your day,” he smiled, “I love starting my day with something sweet. I hope you don’t mind that it’s all smushed, though. It got a little tossed around during the ride to your place and here.”

It was wholesome, the way he was sharing something similar to a tradition with you, but you didn’t eat most desserts with frosting. You didn’t want to disappoint him, so you opened the container, bracing yourself for the overly sweet smell, only to be met with a tamer fragrance.

“Carrot cakes,” you smiled down at the pastry, trying to figure out a way to eat the one dessert you would absolutely never say no to.

“Carrot cupcakes,” he nodded, “with cream cheese frosting. I heard on an interview that you prefer these over traditional cupcakes or cakes, so I got these.”

“Thank you,” you accepted the fork he handed you and immediately went to get a piece.

Beomgyu pulled out his own container of tossed carrot cupcakes and got ready to eat it before turning back to you and asking a question.

“So, what’s up with that? The whole avoiding-sweets-as-much-as-possible thing?”

The hairs on your arms stand upon remembering the overwhelming smell of sweets from whenever Junsu would lovebomb you to keep you from leaving him. You unconsciously stabbed a muffin harder than you have been.

“I bet you had the worst cavity ever,” Beomgyu hummed in a teasing manner, eating a piece. His eyes widened as he looked at the container in pleasant surprise. “I don’t blame you for liking this, though, this is amazing!”

“I like to think I have good taste when it comes to most things,” you laughed as he stuffed more of it into his mouth, handing him a tissue from your bag. “You’ve got a little something on your, well, everywhere.”

“Good food usually means messy eats,” he winked at you. “Speaking of good food and messy eats, I have actual food in my bag, not just dessert, don’t worry. It’s some chicken from a Korean place near mine.”

You simply grinned at him, nodding in thanks as you both turned back to watching the people walking by and making up stories of their lives to entertain yourselves. You were halfway through the box of boneless chicken when Beomgyu broke the topic of people watching and asked you what you had planned for tomorrow.

“I literally came here without a plan on a last minute decision.”

“Nice! I have a meeting with my manager this afternoon and a social call tonight, but tomorrow’s free. I’ll pick you up at 9AM? I can take you to a few good spots in the day then for some touristy things at night. You have to see the view from Empire State, I swear. We can have dinner after at Magic Island.”

He laughed at your curious look, making you sigh and shake your head. “You’re really spending your day tomorrow on the most disliked person in the current Korean media right now?”

“Hey, they don’t know you, and I’m trying to know you,” he held his hands up in mock surrender. “I want to know what goes on in your brain, you know?”

The blatant overuse of the word ‘know’ made you shake your head once more at the wiggling of his eyebrows, but a small laugh did escape you. Beomgyu leaned back, crossing his arms in satisfaction at making you laugh.

“You’re trying to know me by showing me your favorite spots in New York?”

“Something tells me I can learn more about you in those spots.” The look he gave you was genuine and not the same joking and playful look her had before. Though there was still a hint of mischief in his eyes. “So? You down for the Beomgyu Special Tour tomorrow?”

You made an exaggerated thinking face, laughing at his attempt of convincing you through looks, before answering, “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 10AM.” He gave a nod of approval before launching into another convoluted life plot he made for a random stranger. 

Before you knew it, Beomgyu had dropped you back off at your airbnb, and you were making yourself some tea to get ready to facetime with your friends.

There was no doubt they’d all be surprised when they found out who was in New York as well as spending time with you and convincing you to hang out. In fact, you were surprised yourself when you realized that the only time you felt uncomfortable with Beomgyu was when something related to Junsu was on your mind.

You honestly did not know whether to be proud or scared.

With all other actors you’ve previously worked with, you would have had to be two weeks into filming (not even counting the production meeting and table reading) at least before you felt even remotely that connected with someone the way you seemed to be doing with Beomgyu.

“Y/N! MY CHILD, I MISS YOU!” “Yeonjun’s blaring voice was the first thing you heard as soon as the call connected.

A small laugh slipped past your lips as you watch your three friends bickering, each trying to be the main person in the frame.

“Will you guys knock it off?” Taehyun made his way to the middle, elbowing an offended Yeonjun and Soobin to the sides. “Y/n is grinning not just her amused grin and I need to know why! Spill.”

You just shook your head. Taehyun was always able to read you well, and the grin on your face hasn’t left since Beomgyu took you out anyway. “I had a pretty good night. And morning. And I think I’m gonna have a good day tomorrow, too.”

That seemed to catch the attention of the two boys who were still bickering behind Taehyun. Soobin raised an eyebrow while Yeonjun leaned forward, much to Taehyun’s dismay.

“And why is that?” Yeonjun was quick to ask.

“You guys know my would-have-been co-star on Everlasting Shine, right?” Once all three of her friends nodded, she smiled.

There was a moment of silence while the context caught up to the three boys before Yeonjun’s jaw dropped.

“No way?” The stylist had practically pushed Soobin out of frame in surprise at his realization.

Taehyun, the ever protective best friend, narrowed his eyes with suspicion. “Choi Beomgyu? You’re hanging out with Choi Beomgyu?”

Your nod seemed to have pushed Yeonjun back through the screen as he stepped away and grabbed a pillow from the couch, hitting the two other boys with it. Out of the three of them. Yeonjun seemed to be excited rather than suspicious or pensieve. 

“I kinda ran into him by accident,” you mess with the cuffs of the jacket you were wearing. His jacket. “It’s like some huge coincidence, given the circumstance. We talked for a bit, then it kinda evolved into us hanging out today and, well, he’s taking me on a New York tour tomorrow.”

“Oh my god!” Yeonjun sat back down, leaning in closer to the screen. “A coincidental New York run-in with the charming actor you were supposed to star alongside with? Y/n, my darling child, my angel, you’re literally living a full-blown rom-com!”

A small lifeless laugh escapes your lips despite the feeling of heat creeping up your neck, “Yeah, well, my rom-com’s kinda missing one big part. The part where the audience actually roots for the main character.”

“Hey,” Taehyun’s voice caught your attention, “you still are the main character. Just… don’t worry too much, okay? We’ve got you. We’re making progress.”

“Progress?”

“Progress.” Soobin nodded in confirmation. His voice was careful in the way he spoke, breaking his unusual silence. The expression on his face softened as he noticed your confusion and the hints of anxiety regarding the scandal creeping up on you. “Some people who knew you are starting to question Junsu’s story. Old classmates, people you’ve worked with, just anyone who’s been around you actually. They’ve been quietly reaching out to the company.”

“The truth is coming to light,” Taehyun added, his eyes sharp. “Pretty soon, that sorry excuse of a human being is gonna face the repercussions.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment. The tightness in your chest that came with thinking about the whole scandal eased the slightest bit. People were on your side. There was a chance that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the end of you.

“Speaking of truths,” Yeonjun inserted, lifting the mood with a mischievous smirk on his face, “Can we circle back to the fact that the Nation’s Boyfriend Choi Beomgyu is playing New York tour guide for you? Honestly, it sounds suspiciously… romantic.”

Your cheeks heated up as you shook your head. “It’s not like that, though. He’s just… He’s easy to be around.”

“And hot.” 

The way Yeonjun wiggled his eyebrows made you look at him and let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeonjun”

“What? I’m just saying, there’s nothing wrong with some romance as your redemption arc kicks in, right guys?” He looked at Soobin and Taehyun, both who just gave Yeonjun judging looks.

Despite your best effort to remain stern about it, you laughed. The same laugh you haven’t been able to do with your friends in a while. It felt like a fresh breath of air being able to laugh like that with them again, even through a screen. The chaos of everything brought back a sense of normalcy.

But as the warmth of the chaos faded at the end, a complication in the back of your mind came forward, sending chills throughout your body. 

Because as the room fell into silence, the gravity of the things Taehyun, Soobin, and Yeonjun were doing for you—not just as your bodyguard, manager, and stylist, but as your friends— settled on your shoulders. The fact that they were risking their names and careers to help you weighed down on your chest.

And somehow, Beomgyu’s kindness felt just as heavy.

The way he chose to believe in you, to get to know you before following the public’s opinion on you, to spend time with you despite your reputation being at its worst.

It scared you. Because if you let yourself get used to that kind of warmth—what happens when it’s gone?

And worse—what happens if you ruin him too?

that's the end of part 1! delicate has been something in my drafts for more than a year, and i was never satisfied with how things were rolling out in the plot, but beomgyu's mixtape is giving me motivation (i say a few hours before panic's release). i haven't posted here in a while, but this is my comeback, i'm claiming it! i missed writing~

see you in part 2!

~ cia 🫶🏼

[minasaikoarigatou]

soobin+karina.

[noquesitos]

like & repost ♡

[zeroseuniverse]

Personal Makeup Artist

Word Count: 1K Summary: “Hey,” you greeted with a bright smile. “What’s up?” Without answering, he lifted a small makeup bag. Your makeup bag. You blinked in confusion. Pairing: Huening Kai X Reader

Taglist: @zaycie @sh0dori @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120 @0-ryolei-0 @ltfirecracker

Navigation

The first time it happened, you didn’t think much of it. It was just a casual moment between you and a classmate—a lazy afternoon after lecture, sprawled out on the floor of your dorm room. You were playing music off your phone while flipping through random makeup products you hadn’t used in months.

“I’m bored,” your classmate announced, reaching for your makeup bag. “Let me practice on you.”

You shrugged with a small laugh. “Sure. Why not?”

You sat cross-legged on the rug, leaning back slightly as they blended a warm bronzer along your cheekbones. The two of you were chatting about nothing in particular—complaining about homework, gossiping about your professors, making plans for the weekend. You barely even noticed how close they were leaning, how their fingers occasionally brushed your skin as they worked.

But someone else did.

HueningKai hadn’t planned to stop by that day, but he found himself walking toward your dorm anyway. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, hair slightly tousled from running his fingers through it. It wasn’t unusual for him to pop in unannounced—you’d always told him he didn’t need an invitation. But today, when he reached your door and saw it slightly ajar, he hesitated.

His brows drew together as he took in the scene. You, sitting with your legs tucked beneath you, smiling at the classmate hovering too close. Their fingers delicately traced along your jaw as they applied a soft highlight to the high points of your face. You didn’t seem to mind the proximity. You were laughing, your eyes crinkling in that way he adored.

But for once, that smile wasn’t directed at him.

Something heavy settled in HueningKai’s chest. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t make his presence known. He simply turned and walked away, jaw tight and heart uncomfortably heavy.

The next day, you were startled when you opened your door to find him already there, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes were calm, but there was something unsettlingly unreadable about them—a touch too blank, too neutral.

“Hey,” you greeted with a bright smile. “What’s up?”

Without answering, he lifted a small makeup bag. Your makeup bag. You blinked in confusion.

He stepped into your dorm and nudged the door shut behind him with a quiet click. The motion was slow, deliberate. His gaze never left yours.

“Sit,” he murmured softly, voice low and even.

You gave him a playful look but obeyed, plopping down on the edge of your bed. “Since when did you become a makeup artist?” you teased.

He didn’t answer. He knelt in front of you, carefully unzipping the bag and laying out the products. His movements were unhurried—deliberate but almost detached. His eyes were low-lidded, expression calm, but his fingers were firm when he tipped your chin upward with the pad of his thumb.

His touch lingered just a beat too long.

“You let someone else do your makeup yesterday,” he murmured, almost offhandedly, as if he were mentioning the weather.

You blinked at him, confused by the statement. “Yeah. It was just for fun.” You shrugged lightly, brushing it off with a small smile. “Why? You jealous?” you teased.

For the briefest moment, his eyes flickered. But the faint smirk that tugged at his lips was casual, almost lazy—so subtle you could’ve missed it if you weren’t watching him so closely.

“Mm. No,” he drawled lightly, voice disinterested, fingers lazily brushing over the curve of your jaw. “Just figured I could do a better job.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat when he dipped his brush into the foundation and began to apply it.

His motions were slow, meticulous. You felt every pass of the bristles, every light graze of his fingertips as he blended along your cheekbone. His thumb brushed idly along your jaw—an absent-minded caress rather than a necessary touch.

Your breath stuttered slightly. He was so close. Close enough that you could see the dark flecks in his irises and feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

He moved on to your eyes, dragging the shadow along your lids with practiced ease. His thumb smudged the corner softly, and the pad of his fingertip lingered against your cheek longer than necessary. You could feel his knuckle faintly graze your skin as he leaned in, eyes lazily half-lidded as he examined his work.

Your throat tightened when he reached for the lip tint. His eyes flicked briefly to yours—watching, wordless—but there was something distinctly heavy in the glance. Something that made your stomach flip.

He dragged the wand along your lower lip, slow and deliberate. You caught your breath when he repeated the motion, running the applicator over your lips a second time. Slower this time. Almost too slow.

Your lips parted slightly without meaning to. His eyes dropped, lingering on the shape of your mouth. And then—just as slowly—he pressed his thumb against your lower lip and dragged it downward, smudging the pigment with an infuriating gentleness.

You exhaled sharply. “You’re messing it up,” you murmured.

His eyes met yours, unwavering. He tilted his head slightly, the faintest ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Mm. Doesn’t matter,” he replied softly, almost dismissively, his voice low and velvety.

And then he kissed you.

The contact was unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. His lips moved over yours with infuriating softness—barely a brush at first, nothing more than a teasing graze. But when you sighed faintly against his mouth, he pressed in further. His hand slipped beneath your jaw, fingertips warm against your skin as he coaxed you closer.

You felt him inhale slightly against your lips—a sound almost too soft to catch—like he was drinking you in, slowly and deliberately.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen and slightly blurred—the once perfect application now softened at the edges. His own lips were stained faintly with the same color, a barely-there smudge left behind.

He lingered there for a moment, his breath warm against your cheek. His eyes were calm, impassive. He didn’t say a word.

But just before he pulled away, his thumb swiped slowly—almost lazily—along your bottom lip, smearing the color just a touch further.

And when he finally sat back, he wore the same unbothered expression as always—calm, indifferent, as if nothing had happened.

But his eyes—just a little darker than usual—lingered on your lips for a second too long.

And he smirked faintly to himself.

[winteringdream]

EVERY WORD ──── huening kai

✩ ⋅ pairing. huening kai x gn!reader ✩ ⋅ genre. fluff ✩ ⋅ warnings. none! ✩ ⋅ wc. 328 ✩ ⋅ a/n. check out the 600 event to request

You’re talking, voice filling the quiet space between you. It’s not anything important, just the frustrations of the day, the little things that annoyed you. All of it spilling out in a tired, rant. You don’t think too much about it; you just speak, letting the words flow out of your mouth, knowing that Kai is listening.

And he is. 

He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t offer solutions or reassurances. He just stays there, silent and steady and though you don’t know it, he’s looking at you. His eyes full of love, slightly smiling as he listens to your words.

You sigh, shifting slightly, running your fingers absentmindedly along his arm as you continue. “And then, ugh, you wouldn’t believe what they said to me.”

A quiet hum from him vibrating against your skin where he rests.

You don’t think much of it. He’s always been like this: quiet, thoughtful, never speaking more than necessary. You’re used to it, comfortable in the way he listens without needing to fill the silence with unnecessary words.

But then, he moves.

It’s subtle, almost absentminded. His arm tightens around you just slightly, and his face buries into the crook of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and for a moment, your words are catching in your throat.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t shift away. He just stays there, pressed close, holding you as if this is the only place he wants to be.

You hesitate, lips parting as if to say something, but you decide not to say anything.

And then, somehow, as if the atmosphere has changed without you realizing, your voice lowers. You can’t see his face in the darkness, can’t tell what he’s thinking. But the way he holds you, the way his fingers curl just slightly against your skin says enough.

He’ll always be there for you. 

You keep talking, letting the words flow, and even though he doesn’t say a word, you know he’s listening.

[viasdreams]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

soobin as your loser bff !! (he want you so bad)

a/n: does this make me a loser since i just made him like all the things i like??? 😞 also bunny girl senpai being his fav anime will never not make me laugh

fake text m.list ☁︎⋅

[dawngyu]

RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

Sitting at parties surrounded by lovers, a silent third wheel at movie nights, the friend holding the camera at weddings—your hands are always... alone in the spaces where others are full.

Were you an error in the grand scheme? An anomaly? A glitch in the unforgiving script? Or maybe, he simply doesn’t really… exist.

That’s how you ended up here, standing beside your korean-pop-obsessed friend who practically dragged you out and swore you’d love the show. It all became a blur when your eyes met his.

He’s on stage, gripping the mic impossibly still, staring down back at you like he feels it too.

He shouldn’t be real.

warnings: red-string au, strangers to lovers, reader is two years older, normal society norms, waiting, anxiety, doubts, sasaengs, insecurities, hasty decisions, drunk-in-love beomgyu. pov switching. everything written is a work of fiction. let me know if I missed anything.

smut-warnings: MDNI, explicit-descriptions, missionary, fingering, oral!fem receiving, dom beomgyu.

wc: 20k — playlist.

notes: fighting both my delulu and my demons while writing this. 😭 Might just be the fic I enjoyed writing the most—I hope you love it just as much! so glad to be part of this beautiful event. a big thank you to @killa-1009 for beta reading this. ilysm.

1/5 part of the valentine event with talented moas! see the full masterlist here.

If fate promised you something so certain, how could you not long for it?

Since childhood, you’ve heard the stories. The way people speak in hushed voices, weaving fate into riddles, how somewhere out there, it's waiting—a single red string, unseen until the exact moment it’s meant to appear.

The rules are simple: the second your eyes meet theirs, a delicate crimson thread will wrap and tug around your ring finger, stretching across, tied to the one who is destined to love you.

You watched it happen to everyone else. From playground giggles in elementary school to whispered confessions in high school hallways, to late-night talks in college dorm rooms. You listened as your friends spoke about finding their own soulmates, the feeling—the pull, the process. It's everywhere. In the way, your parents fit together like pages of the same story. On the way your younger sister—still so new to the world found her match.

When you’re told your whole life that destiny is waiting for you, how could you not ache for it?

The universe doesn’t make mistakes. And yet, your hands remained... stringless.

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

You press the shutter, capturing the way they look at each other. You lower the camera, but they don’t even notice—they’re too caught up in their own little world, whispering sentences only they’ll ever understand. They laugh, eyes soft, bodies leaning in just a little closer.

How does love do that? How does it make someone shine like they’re carrying sunlight beneath their skin? Like just standing beside the right person is enough to set them alight?

And why, no matter how long you wait, does that light never seem to find you?

There are days you curse it—this cruel design, this aching uncertain certainty. You tell yourself it would be easier not to know, to live without the quiet hope that somewhere, someone is meant to find you, or that fate had already written your name beside someone else’s.

And then there are days you fear it.

What if they don’t want to find you? What if that’s why you’re still alone? What if they got it wrong, skipped over your name, and he simply… doesn’t exist?

You're an anomaly. A glitch in the well-made script.

You lost count of how many times you wished it was never made this way. That love shouldn’t be a promise. Yet in the deepest hours of the night, you found yourself—gasping, trembling, and sobbing to your palms. The feeling of—

How can you miss someone you've never met?

You want to reach for a hand you’ve never held. You long for a voice you’ve never heard, a scent you’ve never breathed, a shadow you’ve never chased. And more than anything, you wish you had a name to whisper, to give you hope.

You swallow, forcing a smile as you turn back to the couple. "Congratulations," you say, "It’s a beautiful wedding."

"Thank you, Y/N!" Ha-rin squeals, practically glowing as she steps forward to hug you. "And thank you for being our photographer—I know you must be busy."

"You’re welcome," you reply, adjusting your camera strap. "It’s what I do, after all."

Ju-won steps in then, reaching for Ha-rin’s hand like he can’t stand even a moment of space between them. "Thank you, Y/N," he says, his eyes never straying far from his wife.

They were your high school classmates. You remember the day they met—first year, first morning, when their eyes met across the classroom, and just like that, the red string appeared. They grew together, from awkward introductions to effortless friendship, and now, here they were, husband and wife.

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

Ju-won leans in, pressing a kiss to Ha-rin’s cheek like it’s the first time, like they haven’t spent years by each other’s side. The look in their eyes is so easy, so full of love, that you have to look away.

You can't look.

"Uh, I’ll get some drinks," you say, forcing a smile that feels as out of place as you do. You don’t wait for a response. You just turn, your heels clicking against the polished floor, head spinning as you try to count how many weddings you’ve attended this year.

Or no. You’ve lost count.

Everyone you grew up with—your friends, your classmates—have already found their soulmates. Most are married now, some already raising children.

Your heels dig into your feet with each hurried step, but you don’t slow down. You just keep moving, past everyone. You know exactly where you’ll end up. The same place you always do.

Alone at the sidelines.

You grab a drink, bringing it to your lips a little too quickly, hoping the cool burn will settle the unease twisting in your stomach.

"Hey! It’s been a while!" A voice cuts calls out, familiar—but not familiar enough. You turn to see a girl skidding towards you, her face vaguely recognizable. A former classmate? A clubmate? Someone who once sat next to you in a lecture hall?

"How have you been?" she asks, taking a drink for herself.

"I’m fine, thanks," you reply, forcing an easy nod before taking another sip.

A second passes, and then another girl joins the conversation, breathless with laughter. "Beom-seok finally let me go," she teases, tilting her head toward the man across the room—her soulmate. "The guy’s obsessed."

"Of course he is," the first girl grins. "He’s your soulmate." She swirls her drink before adding, "Mine just got back from overseas. He’ll see me tomorrow once he’s in the city." And there it is again—circling back to the same topic, the one you can never take part in. You nod, offering a small smile, pretending to listen.

Because what is there to say when everyone else has something you don’t?

"Y/N?" Your name pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Did you meet yours yet?" The question hits like a slow, squeezing ache in your chest.

"No," you say, reaching for another drink. It's embarrassing that everyone knows you're empty. "I haven't."

"That's… weird, right?" The first girl tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. "I mean, we sat through those lectures together. Didn’t the studies say most people find their soulmate before twenty-five? That’s what the records say."

There’s no malice in her voice, just matter-of-fact. Like she’s pointing out a statistic, saying out what’s already been made painfully clear to you. it’s the same tired reminder, the same unspoken question: what’s wrong with you?

You’re used to it by now.

"Yeah," you say, unwilling to argue. What’s the point? Your mind slips back to those reckless high school days—the days when older girls, too cool and too cruel, mocked you for not having a soulmate. You remember snapping back, pretending their words didn’t sting.

Later, the tears came on the bus ride home—carving rivers down your cheeks as you sob. Strangers offered tissues, soft words, awkward kindness, but none of it could stitch you back together. You remember your mother's words after seeing her home. To stop them from hurting you, you have to accept all of yourself.

But how do you accept the whole of you, when it doesn’t even feel like you have all of you?

From the corner of your eye, you catch the second girl nudging her. "Don’t mind her, Y/N," she says quickly. "She doesn’t always think before she talks." Then, after a beat, she adds, "Have you tried dating in the meantime? You know, while you're waiting?"

You blink at her, taken aback.

"I mean, it's not like it’s cheating, right? Since you haven’t met them yet."

You set your drink down, your fingers suddenly cold. "Why are you suggesting something you wouldn’t even do?" Your voice is calm, but it makes her shift uncomfortably. "Or did you? Does your soulmate know?"

Neither of them speaks. Guilt in their expressions. You don’t wait for an answer. You're done for tonight.

It’s time to go.

You turn away, not bothering to look back. No one needs you here—your part is done. Your role here is over. You pull out your phone, quickly typing out a polite apology to the bride before slipping it back into your pocket.

The drive home is silent, and the buzz of the engine is the only company you have. Your hands grip the wheel a little too tightly, your thoughts drifting despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. When you finally reach your small apartment, you step out, clutching yet another wedding souvenir in one hand a meaningless token of a night that wasn’t yours to celebrate.

You lock the door behind you and lean against it blinking, exhaling shakily. "I guess today wasn’t the day either," you murmur to no one in particular, wiping away the single tear that managed to escape. "What's taking you so long?"

No matter how often you whispered this question, it never hurt any less.

"What's taking you so long?"

Beomgyu groans from under the covers, trying to burrow deeper into the warmth of his bed. The sudden tug of his blanket makes him blindly reach out, attempting to grab it back. "You shi—"

"Beomgyu, you're the last one. We're all almost ready to go," Soobin says, adjusting his belt in the mirror. "Look at this little child."

Beomgyu stretches with a dramatic yawn. "I'm up, I'm up," he mumbles, sitting up sluggishly and blinking against the light. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, feet landing on the bedside table. Soobin shakes his head but doesn't stick around—his job is done. Beomgyu is finally awake.

Minutes later, Beomgyu trudges into the living room, hair a mess, voice still deep with sleep. "Are we eating there?"

The entire room turns to look at him.

"You woke up late, and that’s the first thing you care about?" Yeonjun teases, shaking his head with a laugh.

"Well, I didn’t eat last night," Beomgyu grumbles.

"Oh?"

"Liar," the maknae pipes up from the couch, casually applying lip balm. "You literally snuck out to eat."

"You snitch," Beomgyu gasps, feigning betrayal. "I didn’t raise you to turn on me like this!"

"You? Raise me?" Kai scoffs. "Soobin hyung’s the one who raised me, what are you talking about?"

Soobin smirks and chucks Beomgyu’s towel straight at his face. "Exactly. Now go shower, you idiot."

Laughter erupts around the room as Beomgyu groans, trudging toward the bathroom. "Shower quick, hyung," Taehyun calls out.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Beomgyu’s slightly damp hair clings to the back of his neck. He hadn’t had time to dry it properly before they rushed out of the dorm—there was no room for delays today. A broadcast for their comeback. Another promotion. His stylist would handle it in the green room anyway.

They pile into the van, the usual quiet settling over them. Despite being fully dressed and ready, exhaustion hangs heavy. One by one, his members drift off, heads resting against windows, bodies slumped in their seats. Only Kai remains awake, lost in his own world, music pulsing through his earphones. The maknae was so engrossed on his phone, obviously texting with a small smile on his face.

Beomgyu sighs, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, his breath slightly fogging up the window. Today would be a long day. Rehearsals, performances, a challenge video, taping. He missed this. He missed MOAs. The rush of the stage. The high of performing. And then—

Oh.

The van slows at a red light, and his gaze drifts absentmindedly to the sidewalk. His chest tightens.

A couple walks by, laughing, hands intertwined, completely lost in their own world. The way they move together, effortlessly in sync. In love. Content. Happy. He stares longer than he should.

He can't look away.

His throat feels tight as the van lurches forward again, pulling him out of his thoughts. He blinks hard, shifting in his seat. The image stayed, pressed into the back of his mind.

All four of his members had already found theirs—their soulmates. The one they could lean on when the world became too loud. Beomgyu was happy for them, of course, he was. He remember how he was when Kai blushed when he met his soulmate recently, right after his 23rd birthday.

Everyone teased the maknae relentlessly for weeks.

Beomgyu had been too busy his whole life, training since he was just a kid, running full speed toward a dream. His mind is busy to the point he sometimes forgets it. He does not mean to. It's just that—he never let himself dwell on it for too long. Pushing it aside became second nature, the same way he’d forget to eat when he was too busy, too distracted.

But every year, without fail, when the room dimmed and the birthday candles in front of him, his wish was always the same.

His soulmate.

It didn’t matter how many years passed or how much he achieved—when the glow of those tiny flames danced in his eyes, it was the only thing his heart whispered.

Beomgyu exhales shakily, his fingers curling into his hoodie. a quiet sigh slipping from his pouting lips.

Where are you?

The stark white walls of the hospital room loom over, mocking your awkwardness.

"There's nothing wrong with you, dear," the woman in front of you says, her lab coat lending a sense of authority to her words. Her voice is gentle, reassuring, but it barely soothes the unease twisting in your chest. "Soulmates do tend to find each other early, statistically speaking. But that’s just a pattern, not a guarantee."

You swallow hard. The lump in your throat stays put. "Is there… any chance this is a mistake?" Your voice is quieter than you intend, fragile in a way you hate. "That someone could go their whole life without one? That—" you hesitate, your chest tightening, "that I’m just… meant to be alone?"

Something flickers across her face—pity, maybe. You’re not sure. "I’ll look into it, I promise," she says after a moment. "I know twenty-six feels late, and I know it’s frustrating. But… trust in destiny a little longer. If you want, I can also recommend a therapist. I know the pressure can get to you."

Her words are meant to be comforting. They only make the weight in your chest heavier. You shake your head, managing a quiet “thank you” before slipping out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you.

“How was it?” Da-hee’s voice reaches you before you even look up. She’s already on her feet, eyes scanning your face, searching for an answer. “What did they say?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” You sigh, walking past her. “I told you I should not do this.”

She huffs, crossing her arms as she falls into step beside you. “You never tried it,”

Your best friend doesn’t argue anymore, following you to the counter in silence. The cashier barely looks up as they say, “That consultation is $120 total, plus taxes, bringing it to $145.86. Card or cash?”

You catch Da-hee reaching for her wallet, but you gently push her hand away. “Don’t,” you murmur. “This was for me.”

You hand over your card. A quick swipe, a faint beep. And just like that, you’re down nearly $150 with nothing to show for it but a sinking feeling in your stomach.

That much money for a consultation. A conversation. No treatment, no tests, nothing tangible. Soulmate doctors are expensive. Too expensive. And health insurance? Useless. They don’t cover something as rare, as unquantifiable, as soulmate problems.

Because to them, it’s not a real sickness, proving that you are—once again—the outlier.

Perfect.

“Come on,” you say, nudging your still-guilty-looking friend. She follows you out of the hospital, quiet and pouting.

At the car, she pulls open the driver’s side door. “Let me at least drive?” she offers, voice softer now.

You chuckle at her persistence, shaking your head before tossing her the keys. “Okay.” Sliding into the passenger seat, you reach for the radio, as she pulls out of the parking lot.

"Let's hang out at your place," Da-hee says, and she grins as she sees you nod your head.

Music played softly through the speakers, blending with the casual flow of conversation. The air is light, and easy—until your car rolls past a towering black building.

HYBE.

Funeral wreaths. Trucks. Massive banners.

Your brows furrow as you take it in, the sight so jarring that it silences you for a beat. The road ahead clogs with slowed traffic, people lingering to gawk at the scene.

“What the fuck?” Da-hee mutters, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, eyes darting across the scene. The traffic slows as more people crane their necks to look. You do the same, stomach twisting at the sheer scale of it. "This is insane."

“What’s going on?” you ask, still trying to piece together the meaning behind it all.

She exhales, lips pressing into a thin line. “Lee Heeseung. An idol,” she starts. “News got out that he recently went out with his soulmate.” Her voice dips, sadness flickering across her face. “And now… now, people want him out of the group.”

Your stomach twists. “What?”

You strain to read the bold, angry messages plastered across the banners:

GET LEE HEESEUNG OUT OF HYBE.

APOLOGIZE, LEE HEESEUNG.

EXPLAIN THIS, LEE HEESEUNG.

ENHYPEN IS NOW ONLY SIX.

IDOLS WITH SOULMATES ARE NOT IDOLS.

The messages feel suffocating, each one worse than the last. Then you see it—one of the trucks, its LED screen flashing an image like a public execution.

A man, young and striking, caught mid-laughter as he eats ramen with a girl beside him. She’s smiling too, her expression warm, content. The matching caps on their heads make them look like any ordinary couple, but the grainy, long-lens quality of the photo gives it away. Someone had been watching. Someone had been waiting to expose them.

Your stomach turns.

“It’s worse when so many fans are… young,” Da-hee murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “Most of them are stringless.” She says the last word carefully like she doesn’t want to offend you.

But you almost hear what she isn’t saying.

Stringless people can’t understand the soulmate bond. And when it comes to idols, that misunderstanding twists into darker. As insane as it sounds, they feel entitled. Possessive. Like their devotion should be enough. Like an idol’s life—who they love, who they belong to—should be theirs to control.

It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?

The car inches forward, and your eyes drift back to the scene outside. Security guards push against the surging crowd, their faces strained. The banners wave wildly, like battle flags in a war meant to punish.

You swallow hard. “I don’t get it.” You don’t know him. You don't need to know him to know the injustice of it. “Why treat him like he committed some kind of crime? He’s meant to have someone. He’s a person, not—” You gesture vaguely at the protest, frustration bubbling up. “Not their property.”

Da-hee sighs. “That’s why idols who are caught with their soulmates—especially the ones who confirm it, get cancelled. Fans turn on them. They lose everything.” She shakes her head, voice laced with exhaustion and resignation. “It’s sad that they have to hide it.”

The thought of society hating someone just for loving who they’re meant to love makes your chest feel tight. How could something meant to be beautiful turn into this?

You guess your own situation isn’t the only cruel, unfair thing in this world.

The two of you make it back to your apartment, settling in for a movie with a bowl of popcorn between you. The glow of the TV flickers across the room, a comfortable silence stretching between you—until Da-hee suddenly squeals, nearly knocking the popcorn over in the process.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, shoving the popcorn bowl off her lap as she scrambles to her feet. “OH MY GOD.” She starts stomping in place.

You glance at her, unimpressed. “I want to wipe that ridiculous grin off your face.”

She just giggles and shoves her phone in front of you. “Joon bought me VVIP tickets. I’m going to die.” She pumps a fist in the air, bouncing on her toes like a kid who just won the lottery. “And there’s two. He can’t go—oh my god. Please, please, I am begging you to come with me. It’s next week! That sneaky bastard didn’t even tell me he bought them ages ago.”

You hesitate, already feeling the excuse forming on your tongue. “I don’t think—”

“Come on, Y/N.” She grabs your arm, shaking it dramatically. “Look at me. I have a soulmate, and I still thirst over Tomorrow X Together.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “That’s a long-ass name.”

“They’re my babies,” she says, clutching her chest like she’s been personally blessed by the gods. “You’ll love the show, I promise. And maybe—you’ll be like me. While you wait for your soulmate, it’s harmless to fangirl a little. OMG, what if you become a MOA? That’s my dream. Imagine us going to cafés with photocards, buying merch, collecting albums—”

“Okay, first of all, they are grown men. Not babies.” you cut in before she spirals. You know from experience that once she starts talking about her fangirl life, she never stops. “Anyways, okay, I’ll go. But don’t expect anything.”

Da-hee lets out another excited squeal before launching herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing way too tight.

“You won’t regret this!”

You already do.

It was your turn to trail behind Da-hee like a lost puppy, weaving through the sea of fans decked out in carefully coordinated outfits. Everyone is well dressed. So prepared. Keychains and accessories dangled from their bags, the sound of clinking metal filling the air.

"Look at them," Da-hee suddenly stopped, pulling out her phone. You followed her gaze to the massive banner hanging outside the arena.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER

They... didn’t look bad.

"My husbands," Da-hee sighed dreamily spinning turning to you with wide eyes. "Let's take a selfie!"

Before you could protest, she yanked you in, holding her phone high. The two of you posed—her grinning ear to ear, you looking like a reluctant daughter humoring her overexcited mom.

At the ticketing section, an attendant handed you both event wristbands and ID laces. You're about to shove yours into your pocket, but Da-hee looped it around your neck like a medal.

“So you don’t lose it,” she said firmly.

You sighed, adjusting the strap as you followed her toward a merch booth. Fans swarmed the display, eyes gleaming as they scanned the shelves stacked with albums, shirts, and accessories.

"Everyone's so hyped," you muttered, glancing around. "I can see a lot of Da-hees here."

"Of course they are," Da-hee said ignoring your last comment with a dramatic sway of her hand. She skimmed the display. "This comeback is a masterpiece."

You frowned. "What are we even doing here?"

"You need a picket." She says. "And don’t even think about saying no. I’m still heartbroken you refused the lightstick, so at least take this. We’re gonna be right at the barricades, you can’t just stand there empty-handed. Pick one."

You groaned, "Fine."

Your eyes sweep over the options, scanning each face printed on the glossy boards. You won’t say it out loud—not yet—but you’ll admit it now. They’re all… ridiculously handsome.

And one of them stands out.

Soft brown eyes. A small, almost knowing smile. Something about his face makes your breath hitch. "Uh..."

Da-hee leans in, brow furrowing. "What are you picking? Wait. Are you okay? Why are you so red—"

"I'm not," You quickly pointed at the picket, avoiding her stare like your life depended on it. "This one."

A slow, mischievous grin spreads across her face. "Oh-ho." She turns to the waiting merch seller, smiling some more.

"One Beomgyu, please."

You followed her... once again.

You didn’t have much of a choice. But this time, your steps felt… lighter. Movements are less reluctant than when you first arrived.

You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the way the heat had finally eased, the golden glow of late afternoon settling over the pavement. Maybe it was the way MOAs—total strangers—smiled at you like you belonged, their warmth making you feel strangely at ease. Maybe it was the fact of not hearing the word soulmate even once. That you don't feel the odd one out.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the picket you now held carefully in your hands.

You didn’t know how it happened. How you went from teasing Da-hee about her obsession to clutching a piece of laminated paper like it meant something. But the more you looked around, the more you understood.

It wasn’t just about the idols printed on banners or the music playing faintly in the background. But also, it was about them. These people who glowed with excitement, who found joy in simply being here, in loving unapologetically.

You were sceptical of it at first, seeing the front of HYBE last week. The protest. But just like everything, you saw it. The good side of being a fan.

How they shined—not only because of who they adored, but because of how they adored. How happy they were to love, and to share that love with everyone around them.

And somehow, standing here among them, you felt a little brighter, too.

"Where are we going now?"

"MOAZONE," Da-hee answers without hesitation, pulling you toward yet another booth. The concert doors won’t open for another thirty minutes, but she’s on a mission. The funny thing is—she doesn’t really need to drag you anymore.

Something has settled in your bones. You’re going to see this through, stay until the last song fades. And maybe—you’ll find yourself here again next time.

"It’s a booth where you can pull a concert-exclusive photocard," she explains further, eyes shining with excitement.

You nod, letting her lead the way. The line is long. When it’s finally Da-hee’s turn, she gasps, then squeals so loudly people around her chuckle. "Yeonjun!" she cries, clutching the card to her chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. "I got him!"

Then, it’s your turn.

A row of face-down cards is laid out before you. You don’t think too hard about it—you just point to one.

The staff hands it over, and when you flip it, your breath catches.

"You got Beomgyu?!" Da-hee shrieks, bouncing on her toes beside you. You barely hear her. Because there he is.

Elbow propped up, chin resting on his hand, that same small, knowing smile—only this time, it’s wider.

Fucking hell.

Da-hee grabs your arm, shaking you. "Girl, you are officially a Beomgyu magnet. I'm unfriending you if don't start liking them,"

Beomgyu.

Beomgyu. His name loops in your mind, over and over. And for some reason, it fits. His name suits him.

You tried your best not to break a smile. "Come on,"

If you had told yourself a year ago that you’d be here—crammed into a packed venue, surrounded by screaming teenagers—you would’ve laughed. Hard.

And yet, here you are, laughing. Not at the absurdity of it, but with it. Caught up in the moment with Da-hee, the crowd’s energy vibrates as hundreds of voices chant their names.

“It’s soundcheck first,” Da-hee leans in, her voice barely cutting through the noise. “Then the main concert.”

You nod, still grinning. “Okay.”

Then, the opening notes of a song play through the speakers. The crowd erupts. “Oh my god!” Da-hee shrieks, “It’s Deja Vu!”

The five of them step onto the stage. It’s a blur—lights flashing, voices screaming. Your heart pounds against your ribs as the music swells, wrapping around you like something alive.

It’s beautiful.

A tall man—easily the tallest—moves toward your section, waving with an easy smile, deep dimples carving into his soft-looking cheeks. It reminds you of bread. The warmth of it is infectious, and before you even realise it, you're waving back, grinning at someone whose name you didn’t even know this morning.

Then, the song begins to wind down. And that’s when you see him.

Beomgyu.

His steps are slower than the others, like he’s taking his time, scanning the crowd with careful eyes. You tell yourself not to look. Not when he gets closer. Not when that strange, restless nervousness twists in your stomach. You clench your fists and stare at the ground. Why? Why does this feel so overwhelming?

Around you, voices grew. The energy shifts, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. You look up, unsure.

The mic is at his lips, his voice singing into the melody—until suddenly, he stops.

All because his eyes meet yours.

Everything else fades. The crowd, the shake of Da-hee beside you, even the music that was supposed to be loud. All that’s left is the pull—a red thread stretching between, searing itself into your vision, blinding in its intensity—demanding to be seen.

On stage, he stands impossibly still, his fingers gripping the mic like he sees it too.

It can't be real.

“We're trending again,” Taehyun says, flopping onto Beomgyu’s hotel bed with a sigh. “What the hell?”

Beomgyu leans back against the headboard, “How much time do we have?”

Taehyun checks his watch. “Practice is in… oh. Hours.” He exhales, shaking his head in awe. “This is actually happening. A sold-out stadium, Beomgyu. Can you believe that? Remember that tiny, run-down building we used to train in? The cracked floorboards, the growing mushrooms?” He laughs, eyes distant.

“When Yeonjun used to sneak his soulmate in, trying to show off like he was already famous? As a trainee. And now—now, we’re here.”

Beomgyu snorts. “In that practice room, too. I still don’t know how his soulmate put up with that. Or how Yeonjun didn’t get kicked out.”

“Yeah. They just couldn’t let go of each other.” Taehyun laughs, shaking his head. “And I don't think Big Hit will let go of him too."

It had been one of the first rules drilled into them during training—no soulmates. No... searching. And if they already had one? They had to tell them. Have the conversation. An agreement that would turn everything into a secret.

Soulmates were inevitable, unstoppable. Beomgyu still remembers the contract in his hands, the way he read every word over and over, heart pounding. As if somewhere in the fine print, there was a clause that might hurt his soulmate. In the end, he signed.

If he ever found his soulmate, no one could know. Not until everything was over. In other words, disbandment.

"I'm missing her like crazy these days."

Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away. He just shrugs, tossing things out of his suitcase—a hoodie, a toothbrush, whatever his hands find first. He had noticed how restless Taehyun had been, the way he kept his phone glued to his hands, typing, hesitating, typing again. But what was there to say? What could he do about it?

The others were good at pretending. Hiding. The quiet hotel meetups, the stolen hours between schedules. But if Beomgyu was being honest, he could count on both hands the number of times any of the four had actually been with their soulmates since debut.

The fear of getting caught kept them all in line. Not just by the company, but by the fans. The horror stories weren’t just industry rumours—some were ancient, some recent.

If this doesn’t work out, I don’t know if I can take it. Taehyun had said that once. This career was everything. He wasn’t going to risk it. He wasn't ready. And Beomgyu understood. Everyone understood. He could already picture the protest trucks outside the company building if anyone ever slipped up.

"You heard anything from Heeseung?" Taehyun asks, his voice careful, his fingers tightening around his phone. Beomgyu knows him well enough to catch the shift—the way his mind drifts, went from missing his soulmate to remembering the latest scandal in their world.

Heeseung, the newest idol thrown into the fire.

He, who got caught with his soulmate.

"Yeah," Beomgyu says, swallowing. "He's okay, but… his soulmate is taking the worst of it."

Taehyun stills. The thought of his own soulmate being dragged into something like that—starts to burn at the back of his mind. What if it were her?

"Hey, don't overthink it," Beomgyu says because he sees it. He sees it in all of them. The quiet way they carry it, that they aren’t supposed to want. In their world, the idea that you should be free with your soulmate is just that—an idea. Or maybe worse. A peril. A risk too big to take.

He remembers Soobin crying once, blaming himself for wanting this life—this job. And how, in the end, the only person who could calm him down was his soulmate. The same person the company treated like a liability. Yet, the only one with the power to bring their leader back to himself.

The irony.

He also remembers the night he sat with his dad, asking him how he knew Mom was his. He had tilted his head, recounting their encounter, before he said one thing that stuck with him.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Beomgyu used to cringe at that. Now, he wonders if he'll ever get the chance to feel it.

“Did you see everyone? Insane.” Yeonjun says, eyes wide as they sit in the salon-like chairs. “They’ve been out there since last night.”

Kai glances at him as much as he can without moving his head, his makeup artist carefully blending eyeshadow. “Yeah, I saw them. MOAs are bundled up out there, and it’s freezing. It's worrying me.”

"I feel like I'm about to throw up. I'm nervous,"

Playing a stadium—a sold-out one, this is the dream. The one every trainee chases, the one Beomgyu used to stare at the ceiling imagining, too afraid to believe it could ever be real. And yet, here it is.

His mind pulls him back to the past. The long nights, the aching muscles, the quiet sobs muffled into his pillow. The moments of doubt, the voices—his own, the other's—telling him he wasn’t enough. He remembers how hard they worked. How hard he worked. How many times they shared one meal because they couldn't afford another one. And still, somehow, they held on.

He knows he earned this, and fought for it with everything he had. But standing here now, bathed in the price of it all, it still doesn’t feel real. He stares at his hands once his stylist is done with his eyes. There’s something else tugging at him, a strange feeling that’s been lurking since morning.

What it is, he can’t quite say.

Beomgyu's eyes sweep over the big space. The kind of big that makes his head spin if he thinks about it too much. In a few hours, this place will be much packed. He’s been—on stages just like this, under lights just as bright but somehow, it still knocks the wind out of him.

It's soundcheck. He likes it because, with the lights up, he can actually see everyone. It was one of the rare moments he could see faces. He likes it as much as the offline fan signs. They move through the set, running back and forth across the stage, but his feet keep pulling him toward one side—like an instinct.

Beomgyu likes looking at MOAs. It feels good. Familiar, almost. Sometimes, he even recognizes a face— it was a feeling like a reminder of home, a classmate from school, someone he’d seen before. And then there’s the simple joy of it all. The way someone’s face brightens up because of him. It never gets old. It never stops making him happy, too.

But then, he notices one weird thing.

It’s strange. He’s right here. He could understand if you were looking at another member—fans have their favourites, after all. But you’re not looking at anyone. You're staring at the floor?

You’re not looking at all.

He tilts his head, trying to see better—to get a curious glimpse, and suddenly, his whole world shifts. His heart slams to a stop. It’s so sudden, so overwhelming, he almost stumbles forward, yanking him toward the barricade. "What?"

And then—you move, as if you heard his thoughts.

Just the slightest turn of your head, your face lifting, eyes locking onto his. He stops breathing. His fingers go numb around the mic. Everything slows, softens, blurs at the edges until there’s nothing but this moment. Just the two of you, staring.

The closeness of Beomgyu makes the crowd shift, bodies pressing closer—but you don’t move. You just stand there—still, steady—while the rest of the world shifts around you. Like the last grain of sand in an hourglass, holding on as everything else rushes past.

He swears he would’ve stayed like that forever—frozen, staring, lost—if not for the firm hand on his shoulder. A small tug. He blinks, the spell breaking just enough for reality to slip back in.

"Beomgyu? What's wrong?" Soobin. His leader gives him a look of worry and urgency, and that’s when he hears it, the music. He closes his agape lips, and clears his throat. The song is still playing. Right. He’s supposed to be—

But then his gaze flickers back to you.

It’s nothing, he tells himself. You’re just so so pretty. That’s all. Maybe it was your eyes or your hair or the way you did it. It was just fucking cute. It doesn’t mean anything. And—

His breath falters. He sees it.

He hadn’t noticed before. He had been too busy looking at you. Too caught up in the moment that he missed it entirely. Something all of the members have. Something Beomgyu had waited for his whole life.

The thread.

Thin, and so impossibly red. A string stretched between, glowing faintly under the stage lights. He looks down at his hand—at his ring finger— it's tied there. His eyes trace its path. To you. His chest tightens.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Soulmate.

You’re his. After everything—after all this time—

He finally found you.

The dressing room is a blur of movement, stylists rushing, last-minute adjustments being made, and voices overlapping but he just sits there. Staring at the floor.

He’s dressed. He’s ready. He should be used to this by now, the pre-show jitters, the nervous energy that always sits in his chest before he steps on stage. But—his soulmate is out there. Somewhere in the crowd. And the thought grips him so tight it almost hurts. What if he never sees you again? What if you’re gone before he can find you?

Your face lingers in his mind, vivid and haunting. The way the lights hit your dress, the way you looked at him—it knocked the breath right out of his lungs. He was completely unprepared for it. You were so beautiful that he almost forgot what he was doing.

He’s never been shaken like that before. Not in his personal life. Not as an idol. Not in school, at the company, on stage, meeting seniors, at award shows—never.

Waiting for the music queue, he finally lifts his head.

Muscle memory takes over. His body knows what to do. He’s trained for this, conditioned for it. Every movement, every note, every expression—it’s muscle memory now. His instincts take over before his thoughts can catch up. This is his life. His career. The one thing he chose, out of everything he could have been. How many people in the world get to do this? To stand under those lights, to hear thousands of voices calling his name, to live a dream most wouldn’t even dare to chase?

Would he trade it all, just to see you again?

His feet move—before he can stop them, despite his thoughts, his heart pulls him stronger toward your section. It's a force beyond his control. When he finally sees you again, it feels like a miracle. You’re still near the barricade, still close enough that he doesn’t have to search.

He keeps up, waves, and makes faces—things for MOAs, things he’s done a thousand times before. But his mind isn’t on them. It’s on you. And you’re just standing there again, frozen in place like you don’t trust yourself to move.

He waves again, but this time, it’s for you. Directly. You tilt your head, hesitant, and then—an unsure wave back. It’s so small, so subtle, but it makes him smile. His grin spreads before he can think twice.

Got you, beautiful.

He pumps his fist in an exaggerated show of triumph, like he just won a game only the two of you are playing. He watches as your eyes go wide, and if the lights weren’t so blinding, he swears he’d see the warmth rising to your cheeks. He fists his hand, trying to hold back from reaching out to you.

He crouches, and the fans around you surge forward, eager to be seen, but you don’t move. And then, he sees it—your eyes kept flickering downward, tracing the thread again and again, like you were making sure.

Yet you see it perfectly too.

You smile—small, hesitant, like you’re not sure this is really happening. Then, as if on impulse, you lift your hand, forming a careful, uncertain hand heart.

He doesn’t even wait a second before returning it.

His eagerness made you laugh. A breathless, disbelieving kind of laugh. He can’t hear it, not over the noise of the crowd, but he sees it in the way your shoulders shake, the way your eyes crease at the corners. His chest aches.

You're even more beautiful when you laugh.

He tosses a few kisses out into the air, but he gives his last kiss, the last one to you. You hesitate for only a second before sending one back. His response is instant—dramatic, ridiculous—clutching his chest like you’ve just shot him straight through the heart. He stumbles back, clutches at his clothes, so completely gone for you.

It’s meant to be a joke, but it isn’t.

Because you do have his heart, don’t you? And the strangest thing is, he doesn’t even know your name. Has never heard your voice. But right now, none of that matters. Maybe he’d stay here forever if he could, but the next song cut through the air, pulling him back to the present. His feet move, leading him away—away from you.

Before he joins the centre, just for a second, he looks back. A second to meet your eyes again, to make sure you're watching him.

And you are.

"Hyung," he breathes out.

Soobin turns, both of them standing still as stylists tug their sweat-drenched shirts off, replacing them with fresh ones.

But Beomgyu isn’t thinking about the show anymore.

He’s looking at Soobin. Waiting. Searching for the right way to ask without anyone else catching on. He doesn’t want them to hear. Doesn’t want them to know.

Not yet.

Soobin frowns slightly. “What? You've been looking distracted since earlier. Are you okay?”

“Your soulmate…” His eyes flicker down. He hesitates, searching for the right words. The right way to say this. "At—Tokyo? How did you…?"

He doesn’t need to finish the thought. How can the older forget the only time he managed to sneak his soulmate backstage? Soobin stares at Beomgyu. The latter's face is practically screaming his questions. How did you do it? How did you get them backstage? How did you make it happen?

Beomgyu has to see you. In front of him. Next to him. Because what if you disappear? What if he lets this slip through his fingers, and suddenly—you’re just gone? And what if this is his only chance?

The room moves around him—zippers, voices, fabric rustling—but all he can hear is his own ragged breathing. He moves his eyes. And there, watching him is their leader who knows him better than anyone—with that equally knowing look on his face.

"Let's talk. Just the two of us."

Beomgyu is your soulmate.

The boys just disappeared backstage, their song still ringing in your ears, but your hands won’t stop shaking. Your chest is tight, your throat burns, and there’s a sting at the corners of your eyes.

You're not a mistake. He’s here. He saw you.

His eyes, his smile. The way he moves, the faint dimple that appears when he does. The thought is too much—it makes your knees weak, and forces you to grip the barricade to keep yourself upright.

"Girl, I swear Beomgyu kept looking over here," Da-hee says, nudging you, completely oblivious to the storm unraveling in your chest. Then she catches sight of your face—at your trembling fingers, at the way you can’t seem to catch your breath.

“Y/N?” Her voice softens. “What’s wrong?”

The words leave your lips before you can even think. "I saw my soulmate."

Your voice shakes, barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. Her eyes go wide. "Wait, what? Oh my god—where is he? Is he a MOA? Is he—”

She doesn’t even get to finish the thought before she freezes.

It clicks.

Then, slowly, her face shifts—from confusion to shock to absolute disbelief. The finding out, then the realising. She stares at you, her mouth slightly open, her hands hovering in the air like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Oh my fucking god.” Her hands fly to her mouth, like she needs to physically stop herself from screaming. Then she grabs her hair, like that’s going to help her process this.

“Is he—is Beomgyu—” She cuts herself off, whisper-shouting now, eyes darting toward the stage, toward the place where he just was. “Is that why he kept coming back over here?”

Her grip tightens on your arm, searching your face, waiting for you to confirm what she already knows. But you can’t say anything. All you can give is a small nod.

Minutes pass. The music swells and fades, song after song drifting through the speakers.

Da-hee stays by your side, rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispering reassurances you can’t fully process. At some point, you catch her sniffling into her hands, wiping away her own tears.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years of friendship, of growing up together, of knowing each other better than anyone else ever could. She’s seen every version of you—the messy, the broken, the parts of you even you struggled to accept. She’s cried with you, cried for you, carried your grief like it was her own. Even after finding her own soulmate, she never left you behind. Never made you feel like you were missing something, like you were less.

And now—now she’s the reason you’re here.

She’s the reason you met him.

You think of every birthday candle she ever closed her eyes for, every whispered wish she made on your behalf—because she believed that if two people wished for the same thing, the universe had to listen.

And maybe she was right.

It doesn’t matter if he never speaks to you. If the lights were too bright, if the crowd was too big, if he never even saw the thread at all.

It doesn’t matter. Because you saw it.

And that means you were never a mistake. Never some error in the grand design.

He exists.

Da-hee squeezes your hands, grounding you as a woman in staff uniform approaches. Her eyes lock onto yours, scanning your face, your outfit—like she’s confirming, making sure. Then, she stops directly in front of you. “We need to check some information on your tickets.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. You’re not stupid. You know what this is. You know they wouldn’t say it outright, not here, not in front of all these people.

“I—I have a friend with me,”

The staff member hesitates, studying you for a beat too long. Then she nods. “She can come with you, but she’ll have to wait in the holding room.”

You turn to Da-hee, and she’s already looking at you, her eyes wide and glassy. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she forces a wobbly smile.

Let's go.

You’re going to meet Beomgyu.

The walk was terrifying. Your hands clench tighter with every step, nails digging into your palms, but it does nothing to steady you. Every passing glance burns into your skin—people sneaking curious glances—staff members, crew, people who know exactly why you’re here.

Da-hee had to stay behind in the outer lounge. Now, it’s just you and the staff member leading you deeper into the backstage hallways. The air is thick, suffocating, and you force yourself to breathe through it.

Then she stops. A white door stands in front of you. Dressing Room is printed neatly on a sign, but the words blur as your mind spins.

She knocks. Opens it.

Panic rushes in. What if he doesn’t want this? What if he only let you come here to reject you—to tell you, to your face, that even if the universe says you’re meant to be, he doesn’t want you? What if—

The thought vanishes the second you see him.

Beomgyu.

He’s mid-step, like he’s been pacing. He removes his hands from his face, his eyes widening just slightly before he clears his throat. “Come in,” he says, voice softer than you expected. It’s meant for the staff member, but his gaze never left yours.

The staff steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. Heat crawls up your neck as you force yourself to move, hyper-aware of the way he’s watching every step.

“You have 60 minutes, Beomgyu,” she says before closing the door behind you.

Beomgyu stares at you, and you stare back.

For a moment, neither of you move. Just standing there, eyes locked, as if the world has paused just for this. To anyone else, it might look awkward—but you can't look away as he does.

Your eyes traces over his face, bare and fresh like he just washed up. The soft curve of his cheekbones, the freckles and moles scattered like constellations—proof that the universe took its time with him. Perfect in a way that makes your chest ache.

He blinks, and your eyes catch on his lashes—delicate, dark, fluttering against his skin like something out of a dream.

How can someone be made this perfect?

The question lodges itself in your throat, and before you can stop it, your vision blurs. Tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away. You don’t even know if he wants this yet—

"What’s your name?" Beomgyu asks, his voice quieter than he expected. He watches the way you blink, the slight parting of your lips like you hadn’t expected him to speak first.

His hands curl into fists at his sides. The urge to reach out—to cup your face, to feel your skin—is overwhelming. But he holds himself back.

Beomgyu has never considered himself the kind of person to take the first step. But not this. Not with you. He wants to start a conversation, anything—to get you talking, to hear your voice, to know you.

"Y/N." The sound of your voice stills him. It settles in his chest, not as something new, but as something he swears he’s always known—like a song he’s heard in a dream, waiting to be remembered. His lips twitch into a small, almost dazed smile.

Your voice is so pretty, he thinks. So pretty that it hurts.

He repeats your name, slower this time, rolling it over his tongue like he’s memorizing the way it feels to say it. And when you smile—just the faintest curve of your lips—his own smile widens into a grin.

"So, uh, hi?" Beomgyu says, and it pulls a laugh from you. His heart stumbles over itself at the sound, warmth blooming in his chest. It’s ridiculous, really, how easily you affect him.

"Did you come here alone?" he asks, trying to steady himself.

"I was with a friend," you say, and his eyes flicker—just for a second—to your lips before settling back on yours. "She’s outside."

"Hm." Beomgyu nods slowly, as if letting the thought settle. Then, slowly, he reaches out—his palm open, facing up, an unspoken invitation for you to give your hand out.

Your breath catches. Hesitation flickers for just a moment before you place your hand in his. Beomgyu feels warmth creep up his neck the second your skin meets, a flush he hopes you don’t notice. His fingers curl gently around yours, testing the weight of your hand in his own.

"Come on," he says, his voice softer now. He tugs you forward—careful, gentle, afraid he's hurt you in any way if he pulls too hard. "You should sit. You must be tired from standing out there."

"I could say the same," you murmur as you both sink into the couch. Beomgyu turns slightly toward you, his knee brushing yours, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. His thumb traces absentminded circles against your skin. "You danced and ran around the stage all night," you add, tilting your head at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and a little breathless. Your eyes drift around the room—clothing racks, scattered bags, the quiet remnants of a space that had been buzzing with energy just minutes ago.

"Yeah, I was pretty tired," he admits. Then, after a pause, softer this time, when you look at him again, he’s already staring. "But not anymore."

Beomgyu takes in everything—your lips, the way the light catches in your eyes, the soft of your hand in his. He doesn’t even think before he speaks, before the thought that’s been looping in his head since he first saw you finally slips past his lips.

"God, you're so beautiful."

Beomgyu watches as your cheeks flush, the warmth creeping up your skin like the slow bloom of dawn. He knew—you were his soulmate. Fates stitched together long before this moment, yet nothing could have prepared him for the way you looked right now. He never imagined that watching you blush under his words would feel this intoxicating.

"You’re the one who’s beautiful," you murmur, barely above a whisper. The words feel foreign on your tongue, yet true in a way that unsettles you. You clear your throat, trying to mask the way your heart stumbles over itself, but Beomgyu only tightens his grip on your hand.

You wonder how you even got here. This morning, you woke up with no idea that by evening, you'd be sitting across from your soulmate, flirting like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He chuckles—Beomgyu has heard the word beautiful more times than he can count. It’s been thrown at him in passing, whispered through screams from fans, printed in glossy magazines. But somehow, from your lips, it sounds different.

The next few minutes passed in easy conversation. Beomgyu had already pieced together bits of your life—you were only here because Da-hee dragged you along—he’d been hoping to meet her too, if only to thank her.

He knew you worked a corporate job, that photography was your escape. That you were two years older than him, a fact that he immediately latched onto, whispering noona in a teasing lilt just to see the way you’d roll your eyes laugh and swat his arm. But the truth was, he didn’t want to call you that. It was your name he wanted to say. He felt like he’d already spent a lifetime missing it, and now that he knew it, he never wanted to stop saying it.

You had learned things about him, too. That he’d loved music since he was a kid, that he picked up a guitar before he fully understood its chords. That he was cast as a trainee before he even hit the climax of his teenage years, and that six years had passed since he debuted. Things you could have easily searched online, or you could have read every article, and watched every interview, but nothing made your heart flutter quite like the way he told his own story.

The contrast between your lives was undeniable. Maybe that’s why it took so long for fate to push you toward each other.

While you were drowning in homework, he was in a practice room, chasing a dream. While you sat through lectures and worried about exams, he was in a studio, recording songs that would echo through stadiums. While you cried over a failed job interview, he stayed up until dawn, running through choreography again and again until his legs gave out. Your society—were parallel lines moving in different directions.

But sitting here, watching him scrunch his nose in laughter, none of that seemed to matter. Two people from different worlds, felt like it had faded into one—just by being next to each other.

He hadn’t once let go of your hand for the past hour.

"No, I just—I didn’t know where else to put it, so I stuck it there." You fumble for an excuse, cheeks burning as Beomgyu grins at you. He had spotted the photocard of him tucked into the back of your phone case, and he hadn’t let it go since.

“And it was random,” you add quickly, feeling your face heat up. “You have to randomly pick it.”

The truth is, Beomgyu knows. He knows it was a random selection. He knows you’re flustered. And he loves it. Loves the way you try to explain yourself, loves hearing you ramble, loves the way your face heats up under his stare. And to be honest, if it had been another member’s face staring back at him, no matter how petty it sounded, he also knows he wouldn’t have been too thrilled about it.

He’s in deep.

"Beomgyu, it's time to go." The same staff member says, pulling you both back to reality. You didn't even hear the doors opening. Her eyes flicker to your joined hands for a second, but she doesn’t say anything—just turns and steps outside.

You glance at Beomgyu, and he’s pouting. "We’re flying to Japan tomorrow morning, Y/N."

"Oh." The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You just met your soulmate, and by morning, he’d be gone. "Okay."

You stand up, expecting him to do the same, but he doesn’t move. Your hands dangle between you because he still hasn’t let go. "Beomgyu?"

"I’ll see you as soon as I get back, okay?" His voice is softer now, like he’s trying to find the right words. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable for a moment, before he finally stands. He squeezes your hands gently. "It won’t be too long."

"Alright… we have each other's numbers, so… text me."

"Just know your phone might be buzzing non-stop,"

"Got it." You roll your eyes, smiling. "I’ll survive."

"And wear warm clothes—it’s winter."

"You too."

"Eat on time."

"You’re the one doing concerts. I should be the one saying that."

He ignores your deflection, pressing on. "Sleep well. Lock your doors properly. You live alone, so it’s dangerous. Don’t go out too late. And if you do, call me, okay? Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t go out too late at all. Please—make sure you don’t—"

He doesn’t get to finish. Before he can say another word, you reach up, sliding your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into a hug. His words cut off instantly, replaced by a soft inhale—like he hadn’t breathed since he started speaking. Your heart squuezes over itself at his endless concern, spreading through your chest. Blinking rapidly, trying to push away the tears threatening to spill.

For the first time tonight, Beomgyu lets go of your hand—only to wrap both arms around you, one firm around your waist, the other reaching up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

"I’ll see you soon, Beomgyu," you murmur.

You feel him tilt his head slightly before pressing a fleeting, warm kiss to your temple. "I’ll see you soon."

Elevators terrify you. It scares you because it feels like everything could come crashing down at any second. Why would you trust something that rises so quickly—too fast?

It can't last, doesn't it?

You feel him snuggle to you more, and you chuckle, pressed against him, his scent, his arms around you, holding you safely—his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, as if whispering that the fall you fear will never come.

Elevators terrified you.

You wish you could have captured Da-hee’s face when she saw you walking over with Beomgyu beside you, his hand resting firmly on your back. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly agape, before she shot you a knowing look.

Beomgyu offered her a quick thanks, the paper bag with your heels swinging from your hands, and you stood there in the fresh pair of sneakers he’d somehow found in your size—because he wanted to. His eyes met yours for just a second longer before he turned to leave.

The second you stepped into the parking lot, Da-hee lost it. She let out a squeal so loud you had to clamp a hand over her mouth, laughing as she practically vibrated with excitement. "What just happened?!" she whispered against your palm, her eyes sparkling.

That night, as soon as you got home, your phone rang. His name lit up the screen.

It took only a second before answering.

It was awkward at first—neither of you really knowing what to say—but before you knew it, you were talking about everything and nothing, voices laced with exhaustion but neither willing to hang up first. He was leaving in a few hours, and you had to be the one to convince him to sleep, reminding him—more than once—that he had a flight to catch.

You had just curled up in your blankets when your phone buzzed again. Dozy, you reached for it, thumb swiping across the screen.

Choi Beomgyu I’m sorry for making you wait. I promise we’ll make up for all the time we lost. Sleep well, beautiful.

Even as sleep pulled you under, the smile on your lips never faded.

You wake up to the relentless ringing of your doorbell. A groan slips past your lips as you burrow deeper into your blankets. It’s Sunday. No work. No alarms. Just sleep—at least, that was the plan.

The doorbell rings again.

With an exaggerated sigh, you drag yourself out of bed, doing the bare minimum to look somewhat presentable. Your hair is probably a mess, your face still puffy from sleep, but you don’t care. Whoever decided to disturb your well-earned rest better have a damn good reason.

You glance at the clock on your way out. Oh. It’s not even early—it’s almost 1 PM.

Squinting against the bright light as you crack the door open, you’re met with a sight that instantly wakes you up. A delivery man stands there, arms full, holding the biggest bouquet of red roses you’ve ever seen. The sheer number of petals is overwhelming, a deep sea of crimson spilling over the edges of his grasp.

"What—" Your brain struggles to catch up, and then it clicks. Beomgyu. He asked for your address yesterday.

"Y/N?" The man confirms, struggling under the bouquet.

Your eyes widen. "Damn, just how many are in there?"

"Three hundred and fifteen roses," he says, barely holding onto the mass of flowers. "Please sign here."

Three hundred and fifteen. You’re smiling as you take the pen from him.

You stumble slightly, still half-dazed as you carefully set the massive bouquet down, trying not to crush a single petal. Your fingers tremble as you reach for the small card nestled between the roses, your heart already beating a little too fast.

315 months of not being with you. This won’t make up for it, but I hope it makes you happy.

You inhale sharply. Your chest tightens. 315 months. He counted. Beomgyu counted the exact number of months you’ve been alive—how does he even think like this? Tears prick at your eyes before you can stop them. He’s ridiculous. He’s thoughtful in a way that completely undoes you.

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re running. Not walking—running. Because suddenly, every second without hearing his voice feels like a second wasted.

Your fingers fumble as you dial his number, pressing the phone to your ear. It barely rings once before the line clicks open—like he had been waiting for this call all along. “Beomgyu—” your voice comes out uneven, breathless.

He chuckles softly, “So… I take it you liked it?”

It’s already 3 PM.

Somehow, you lost track of time, carefully splitting the bundle into smaller arrangements, placing them in vases around your apartment. Now, your living room and kitchen are drenched in the scent of roses—not that you’re complaining.

Beomgyu had stayed on the phone with you the entire time, talking about his morning, his voice in the background as you worked. That is, until someone called for him on the other end, reminding him he had things to do.

You sighed when the call ended. It's sunday, and his sunday is like the worst day of your week. And you're here, resting.

Now, fresh out of the shower, droplets of water still clung to your skin as you stepped onto the cool tile. A shiver ran down your spine as you grabbed a towel, pressing it to your face, inhaling the soft, familiar scent of fabric softener.

Dressed in cozy clothes, you curled up on the couch, remote in one hand, a bowl of yogurt and berries resting on your lap. Television played softly as you mindlessly scrolled through channels, enjoying the quiet.

Until your phone buzzed. You unlocked it, eyes immediately landing on the message.

Nut-job Da-hee. Girl! He's extra glowy today!! OMG <link>

You tapped the link, expecting a video to pop up, but instead, it directed you to download an app. You went along with it, quickly signing in and typing out a cheeky username.

The video loaded—Soobin and Beomgyu, in a hotel room. A small table sat near the camera, cluttered with food containers and drinks. Beomgyu was on the bed, lounging comfortably but still close enough to be part of the frame.

And Da-hee wasn’t exaggerating—he looked good. The black shirt fit him just right, his dark hair falling effortlessly, lips tinted a soft pink. A phone in hand, completely unaware of just how stunning he looked.

An idea sparked in your mind.

"It's not barley tea, MOA," Beomgyu laughs, shaking his head as Soobin insists otherwise. No matter how many times their leader repeats himself, the comments keep flooding in, doubting him.

"Choi Beomgyu really traumatized you, huh?" he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"What do you mean?" Beomgyu argues, but Soobin is already moving on, reading a new comment aloud. "Barley tea is healthy,"

Just then, Beomgyu’s phone buzzes. He glances down at the screen.

My Y/N Live?

His back immediately straightens. Shit. You’re watching? He’s about to type out a response when another message pops up.

You look handsome.

Beomgyu presses a hand over his mouth, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He wants to—

"Beomgyu, MOAs are asking what you're doing," Soobin interrupts, his eyes full of silent curiosity.

"Nothing," Beomgyu says too quickly. "Kai sent a meme." He shifts closer to the camera, Soobin right beside him. With his phone in his hands, he types a message, fully aware that Soobin is peeking at his screen. They probably look ridiculous—both of them staring down at their phones while thousands of people watch.

You're watching?

A few seconds pass before your reply pops up.

Yes.

Beomgyu inhales, trying to focus as Soobin keeps talking. His fingers move instinctively.

I'm shy.

Why? You look good.

A pause. Then another message.

Wait, stop looking at your phone. Let MOA see you? Username: 315flowersmyass.

Beomgyu chokes on a laugh. His lips curl up as he locks his phone and holds it up to the camera, as if to prove he’s done. As if to prove that he followed your words.

"So cute," he sings, the words slipping out without thought. The chat erupts, MOAs spamming hearts and messages.

Then he catches it.

315flowersmyass kekekeke -

His grin stretches wider. He closes his face on the screen. "Hi, MOA." He giggles.

This—this is cute. He’s always enjoyed going live, but now he knows you’re watching, he discovers a love for it he never even knew was possible.

The live eventually comes to an end. As soon as it does, Soobin turns to Beomgyu with a knowing smile. "I'm happy you finally found her," he says simply. Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away—just smiles, warmth spreading through his chest. Then his phone buzzes.

He checks it, and the moment he does, a gasp slips past his lips.

It’s a picture. You.

A snack is held near your face, your expression relaxed. You’re in cozy clothes, looking effortlessly beautiful, breathtaking. The picture made Beomgyu wish he could fly back to you right there and then. Over his shoulder, Soobin leans in. "Is that her?" he asks, then grins. "She's pretty."

Beomgyu doesn’t look away from his phone as his lips curl into a smile.

"She is," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"She’s here."

Ji-an’s voice pulls you from your focus. She’s standing beside your desk, phone pressed to her ear, while you scan last week’s finance report. Your eyes flick over the spreadsheet, catching an error in a formula, but before you can fix it, Ji-an calls your name. "Y/N, there’s a delivery for you. They’re at the door."

"Oh," you murmur, pushing your reading glasses up the bridge of your nose. Contacts felt like too much trouble today. "Thanks."

As you stand, a familiar warmth spreads through your chest. Outside, the delivery man hands you a bouquet—this time, white roses.

You peek at the note while walking back, the click of your heels filling the space. Your way back to your desk by the window. The skyline stretches endlessly beyond the glass, a vast expanse of city lights and open sky.

Ow! I fell! Fell for you~ —bg <3

A laugh escapes before you can stop it—he's so silly. One of the things you realised recently.

"That's the fourth bouquet this month, Y/N," Ji-an muses, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "I know you just met your soulmate, but flowers every week? That’s next-level sweet. I’m jealous—mine isn't really a flowers kind of person."

You return her smile, "Yeah, he's the sweetest."

It’s been a month since you met Beomgyu. A single day—that’s all you had together. And yet, in the weeks that followed, he never let distance become an excuse. Even with his tour in full swing, miles stretching endlessly between you, he still found ways to reach you. A call in the middle of the night. A voice note filled with sleepy laughter. And these flowers—his way of saying, I'm here. I'm coming back to you soon.

Ji-an leans against your desk, eyes glinting with curiosity. "So… when do we get to meet him?" she asks, wiggling her brows. "You know the drill—everyone meets everyone’s soulmate. It’s basically tradition. At least one or two quick bond drinks a year, right?"

The playful edge in her voice makes your stomach twist. Because as much as you want to laugh along, to pretend that everything is as simple as it should be… you know the truth.

They can’t meet him. Your friends, your family—none of them can. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. You don’t even know when you will see him again.

You swallow, forcing down the sudden tightness in your throat. The warmth you felt just moments ago, thinking about him, is now laced with something heavier.

"He's—he's busy," you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. You glance at the bouquet on your desk, fingers tracing the petals as if they hold an answer you don’t have. "Maybe next time."

The day finally ends, and you’re grateful Ji-an didn’t push for more.

You clutch the bouquet a little tighter as you step into the elevator, the faint scent of roses lingering in the air. By the time you make it to the parking lot, exhaustion weighs on you—but then you remember.

You forgot to send a text. Pulling out your phone, you type: I’m heading home now.

The message sends, and a small smile tugs at your lips. Beomgyu is probably fast asleep by now, lost in a time zone opposite yours. He won’t see it for hours, but you text him anyway—because you can already hear his voice in your head, playful and pouty. You forgot to tell me again, he’d whine. Can you please let me know?

You’ve learned a lot from him in such a short time. How simple it is to make someone feel remembered. How easy it is to reach out. How even in the busiest moments, there’s always a second to say, I haven’t forgotten you.

Because that’s what he’s been doing for you all along.

You slip your phone back into your pocket, ready to head to your car when someone stops you. Your steps slow, brows knitting together as your scan lands on a girl—sitting right on the hood of your car.

Your car. She’s perched there like she belongs, fingers idly tracing patterns against the metal.

"Hey," you call out, keeping your voice even. "It’s not really polite to sit on someone else’s car, sweetheart."

Her head lifts, eyes locking onto yours with disdain, "Don't sweetheart me, you slut."

The venom in her words knocks the air from your lungs. Your breath catches, shock flashing through you as she stands. She’s young. Much younger than you.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.

Your instincts flare—this isn’t normal. You take a step back, "Leave. Now. Before I call the police."

But she doesn’t move. Instead, she tilts her head, and smirked. "You’re Beomgyu’s soulmate, aren’t you?"

Your body locks up. How does she know? Your fingers tighten around the stems of the flowers, the thorns pressing into your palm. You want to speak, to deny, to do something, but the words won’t come.

Because you know—whatever you say next could make this worse.

She clicks her tongue, taking a slow step toward you. "Do this while I’m still being nice," she says, voice eerily light. "Stay away from him. Or I’ll destroy everything." She tilts her head again, a slow blink. "I’d rather see him ruined than with you, unnie."

She steps past you then, her shoulder knocking into yours just hard enough to make you stumble back. Your hands cold, heart hammering against your ribs. She doesn’t look back. Not until she’s a few feet away.

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

I’m heading home now.

Beomgyu rubs the sleep from his eyes, his fingers fumbling for his phone the moment he wakes up. Checking for your messages has become second nature—his first instinct, before he even fully shakes off sleep.

The corners of his lips curl into a soft smile as he reads your text. You remembered.

God, he misses you.

When he gets back, he’s not letting you out of his sight. He’ll beg his company if he has to—anything to steal just a little more time with you. He wants to spoil you, to show up with flowers every single day just to see that shy smile of yours. He’d buy you things you didn’t even know you needed, take pictures of you at every chance, make playlists for you, drag you into late-night game sessions just to hear you laugh and call him ridiculous. Love is effort. That’s what his parents always told him. He’d give it—all of it.

Maybe one day, he’d convince you to visit Daegu with him. Introduce you to his family, let his mom fuss over you, watch his brother tease him relentlessly. And Toto… Would you like Toto?

The thought makes him chuckle as he taps your contact and presses call. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. His smile falters.

Then, voicemail.

His brows knit together. He tries again. Straight to voicemail. The phone feels heavier in his hand now.

It’s the first time you haven’t picked up.

He’s in the van now. It’s been hours.

Beomgyu grips his phone, scrolling through his notifications, eyes darting to every new alert. His heart lifts for a second—only to sink just as fast when he realizes it’s not you. The screen dims in his hands, but he doesn’t put it down. He can’t.

"You still haven’t heard from her?" Soobin asked. He’s the only one still awake, eyes heavy but observant. Beomgyu hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but he’s never been good at hiding things—not to his members.

"No," Beomgyu mutters, shaking his head. His throat feels tight. "We always talk before she falls asleep."

Soobin exhales, tilting his head back against the seat. "She probably crashed as soon as she got home. Long day, maybe?" He keeps his tone easy, reassuring. "Just focus on later's concert. She’ll probably be awake by then."

Beomgyu nods, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, hyung."

Soobin claps a hand on his back. "Don't think about it too much."

Beomgyu did his best to push thoughts of you aside during the concert. He smiled, he sang, he danced—gave everything to the stage like he always did. But the second he was backstage, drenched in sweat and breathless from the high of performing, his hands were already reaching for his phone.

Still nothing.

Back at the hotel, Soobin and Yeonjun made sure he ate. He forced down a few bites, just enough to keep them from worrying. Now, fresh from a shower, exhaustion settles deep in his bones. His muscles ache, the weight of the night pressing down on him, but sleep won’t come.

His phone sits beside him on the bed. You’re probably asleep. He tells himself that. He should leave it alone.

But knowing doesn’t stop him from pressing call. It rings.

Once. Twice.

He’s about to give up when the line clicks.

“H-Hello?” Beomgyu stutters, his voice unsteady. No response. His heart pounds as he pulls the phone away, checking the screen just to be sure. The call is still connected. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Beomgyu.” The way you say his name makes his breath catch.

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” He hears you take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” His grip on the phone tightens.

"What is it?"

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” A pause. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

Beomgyu shoots up from where he’s sitting, running a hand through his hair, fingers pulling at the strands. He feels cold all over. His pulse pounds in his ears.

“Where is this coming from?” His voice is raw, edged dangerously close to panic. “What happened, Y/N?”

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” There’s a pause. A beat of silence that feels like a lifetime. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

His chest tightens. “Are you breaking up with me?” The words feel foreign in his mouth. His voice drops to a whisper. “Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

And then the line goes dead.

Beomgyu stares at his screen, his fingers frozen, his mind racing to process what just happened. His chest caves in, breath shaky as he stumbles back onto the bed. And then—he breaks.

His hands cover his face, shoulders trembling as it all crashes down on him. He had a feeling when you didn't answer his call. A whisper of doubt, an inkling of fear.

And now, it’s real.

4 AM, and Beomgyu still hasn’t slept. His eyes burn from exhaustion, but his mind won’t shut off. He’s been texting you, calling you—over and over—but every attempt goes straight to voicemail. At some point, your phone must have died, or worse, you turned it off.

He lies on the stiff hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s unfamiliar. Cold. But then again, when was the last time anything in his life felt familiar? Felt like home?

His phone dings.

He scrambles for it, heartbeat hammering, but before he can check the notification, an unknown number flashes across the screen. It’s stupid to answer an unknown call at this hour. Their managers had given them talks about it. But something—something in his gut—tells him to pick up.

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

“Beomgyu.” A pause. Then— “It’s Da-hee,”

His breath catches.

“She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you,” Da-hee says, voice hushed, urgent. “But I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

"Please."

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

You take another sip of whiskey, curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest. The tears won’t stop. No matter how many times you wipe them away, they keep coming, slipping down your cheeks, burning just as much as the liquor sliding down your throat.

Your thoughts won’t stop either.

Beomgyu.

He has everything—his dream, his career, a future so bright it could swallow you whole. He has the world at his feet. And you? You’re just… you. Not worth the risk. Not worth the detour. Maybe this was always how it was supposed to be. Maybe that’s why your paths were never meant to cross in the first place. You saw the consequence, felt it when you passed the Hybe building, that heavy reminder of the impossible divide between your worlds.

It should be enough. Enough that you got to know him, enough that he even knows your name. Enough that you get to see him on a screen. It should be enough.

But is it?

“Fuck,” you choke out, voice breaking. You press the heel of your palm against your eyes, as if that could stop the ache. “Just when I finally saw you… What a joke.” You shake your head, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. “The universe is a fucking idiot for ever thinking we were meant to be.”

You take another drink, and it burns.

“Y/N.”

You blink up, vision swimming, to see Da-hee standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.

“I’ve been ringing your doorbell,” she says, stepping closer. “I used the spare key—why are you crying?”

You don’t respond. You just stare at her, eyes glassy, cheeks wet. She moves toward you, eyes flickering to the near-empty glass in your hand. You’ve been drinking for hours. You already called in sick to work—there’s no way you could function like this.

"Oh, honey," She sighs, reaches for the glass, and you don’t fight it. You let it go. "What happened?"

“Fate is already taking back what it let me borrow.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. She your holds your hand.

“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Explain.”

You swallow hard. Your throat feels tight, like every word is fighting to stay buried. But you force them out.

“A sasaeng,” you murmur, watching as Da-hee’s eyes widen in alarm. “She found out about me. She knows everything, Da-hee. Where I live, where I work, my family—everything.” You suck in a shaky breath, blinking back fresh tears. “And the worst of it, she fucking said she’s going to ruin Beomgyu.”

The moment the words leave your lips, your resolve shatters. You cry—like a child finally breaking after being scolded in front of everyone, holding it all in until no one’s around to see. Da-hee pulled you into her arms as you sobbed. You cling to her, hands fisting her sweater. “I have to let him go,” you choke out. “I can’t do this to him. To them. They don’t deserve this.”

Da-hee pulls back, her hands firm on your shoulders. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can go to the police. We can tell Beomgyu—”

“And then what?” you cut in, voice hollow. “What can they really do? Stop her from telling the world? Keep every single person quiet? Even if she gets caught, the damage will already be done.”

Da-hee doesn’t answer. She just sinks onto the couch beside you, eyes shining with unshed tears, because she knows you well. She knows you too well—knows that the emotional version of you wouldn’t be able to hear her, not right now. Not until the sobs quiet down and the pain in your chest eases just a little. So, she just holds you.

Your phone screen lights up between you. Another call.

Beomgyu. He’s still calling. Still trying.

"I don’t think it’s best to answer it right now—"

But you don’t listen to Da-hee’s warning. Your fingers tremble as they hover over the screen. You have to end this. Now. While you still have the strength. Because deep down, you know—

If you wake up tomorrow, you might not be able to let him go.

“H-Hello?” He stutters on the other line, his voice unsteady. Your breath catches in your throat. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything is wrong.

“Beomgyu.”

I miss you. How can I go on without you?

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” You take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” You hesitate.

I’m not okay. I’ve been thinking about you, only you, and how my existence could ruin everything you’ve worked for.

"What?" His inhale is sharp, laced with the beginnings of panic.

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” You pause, fingers trembling. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, desperate to believe your own words. “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

I should be replaceable. And I shouldn’t be your priority. You press a hand to your mouth, as if you can keep the words from spilling out—keep the truth from bleeding through.

“Where is this coming from? What happened, Y/N?”

My heart is breaking. And you’re too far away to hold it together.

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” You pause, swallowing. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

Please sleep. And forget about me.

“Are you breaking up with me? Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

I want you more than anything. That’s why I have to do this. If I can save you from losing everything, I’ll do it. Even if it means losing you.

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

You press the end button.

The sobs rip through you, shaking your whole body and stealing the air from your lungs. You curl in on yourself, pressing your fist to your mouth, as if that could stop the sound, as if that could stop the pain. How can love be this cruel? How can the same thing that made you feel so alive now leave you feeling so hollow?

But this is for him. You tell yourself that over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer, like a desperate attempt to make it hurt less.

You’ll do this for him. Even if it destroys you.

Da-hee wipes at her eyes, sniffling as she looks at you—curled up in the fetal position, your body tense like you’re bracing for impact even in sleep. She managed to get you into bed, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

She’d do anything for you.

Carefully, she tiptoes to the bedside table and picks up your phone. Her heart pounds. If anyone’s watching me, I’ll beg for forgiveness later. But right now, she comes first.

She types in your usual password. 8888. Incorrect. She frowns, thinking. You changed it? Then, almost without realizing it, her fingers move on their own. 0313. The screen unlocks.

Beomgyu’s birthday.

Da-hee lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. “You idiot,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You love him so much, and yet you’re willing to walk away. How can you be this selfless?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she scrolls through your contacts, searching for his name. Her thumb hovers over it for only a second before she types his number on her own phone.

You’ll be furious. You might never forgive her. But if there’s even the slightest chance this stops you from making the biggest mistake of your life—she’ll take that risk.

Someone has to tell him the things that you can’t.

The line connects, and Da-hee inhales. “She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you, but I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

She’ll prepare her apology later—more than that, she hopes Beomgyu will fight for you.

"I want to go home." Beomgyu’s voice is firm, but his hands are clenched into fists at his sides. His manager looks up from his laptop, brows furrowing.

The door bursts open. Soobin stumbles in, slightly out of breath—he must’ve run after him. Beomgyu doesn’t care.

Beomgyu already knows everything—Da-hee told him. Every sickening detail. And now, standing here, he has no idea how to fix this. No idol has ever come out of this unscathed. But none of that matters right now. His only priority is getting to you.

His manager sighs, already exasperated. “You’re flying back home in a few days, Beomgyu.”

“No,” he says, jaw tightening. “I mean now. I need a few days. To rest. To handle something personal.”

“You know your schedule is packed—”

“Then move everything,” Beomgyu interrupts sharply. He feels Soobin’s hand on his shoulder, hears his name spoken softly, but he shrugs it off. No one is stopping him from getting to you.

His manager sighs again, firmer this time. “We can’t do that.”

“You won’t even try?” His voice wavers between frustration and desperation. “You won’t even let the management know?”

“We can’t make last-minute changes like this.”

Beomgyu lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Of course.” He clenches his fists. All his life, he’s done everything they asked. Pushed through exhaustion, smiled through sickness, showed up even when his body begged him to stop. “I won’t follow you on this,” he says, voice steady. “I can’t do this. Not this time. If you won’t let me go, I’ll still leave.”

“Beomgyu, let’s talk about this when you’re calm,” Soobin says gently, patting Beomgyu’s back. “Please.”

Beomgyu turns to him, his eyes dark with frustration. “I love MOAs, hyung. I love all of you. They gave me everything.” His voice wavers, but he pushes through. “But Y/N… she is my everything.” His breath hitches. He can't even explain it properly. How badly he needs you. “You’re lucky. All of you. Your soulmates—"

“So this is about your soulmate?” The manager exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Don’t you see? She’s making you choose between her and your career.”

“No.” Beomgyu’s voice breaks, his chest tightens, and the lump in his throat is unbearable. “She’s not making me choose. She’s already choosing for me.” His next breath is shaky. “She’s leaving. Can you let your own soulmate leave?”

The room falls silent. Soobin watches him, stunned. He’d never seen Beomgyu like this before—this angry, this desperate. And the question stings the older.

Beomgyu turns away, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. Explaining further is useless. He’s already said everything that matters. Nothing is going to stop him now. When he steps into the hallway, he sees Yeonjun standing there, leaning against the wall.

He’s been listening the whole time.

Yeonjun immediately reaches out, tugging at his arm. “Yah, Choi Beomgyu, come on,” he says quietly. “Let’s talk with everyone.” Beomgyu exhales shakily. If there's anyone he owes an explanation. It's them. His brothers.

So Beomgyu told them everything.

About the sasaeng. About the threats. About how you were walking away to protect him. About how he refused to let that happen. And just like he knew they would, the four of them listened—not as bandmates, not as colleagues, but as brothers.

No one understood him better than they did.

They didn’t tell him to reconsider. They didn’t tell him to stay. Instead, they held onto him, arms wrapped tight, as if they could shield him from the storm that was already brewing. They prayed—not for him to change his mind, but for the world to understand.

Kai was the first to break. His voice barely above a whisper, “Is it really worth it… if the world doesn’t want us to have soulmates?”

It shattered something in all of them.

Beomgyu didn’t answer—not with words. Because what kind of world was it, where love had to be hidden? Where choosing your own heart felt like a betrayal?

With the help of his members, he managed to slip through the cracks, securing a last-minute flight. Now, as he sat on the plane, adjusting his mask, pulling his cap low, he caught his own reflection in the window.

Maybe it was time. Time to stop pretending. Time to stop hiding.

Because an idol in love isn’t supposed to be shameful. Because having a soulmate shouldn’t be treated like a scandal. Because loving you would never make him love his dream any less.

He just had to believe in MOAs. In the people who gave him everything. What he has with them, he treasures so much that the thought of baring his heart isn’t impossible.

And he would.

Completely.

He would trade it all, just to see you again.

The pounding in your head hasn’t let up, a dull, relentless throb that even the hot shower couldn’t wash away. You pop an aspirin, sighing as you press your fingertips against your temples, willing the ache—and everything else—to disappear.

Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.

Dragging your feet toward the door, you barely think as you swing it open—then freeze.

Choi Beomgyu.

His face bare, a backpack slung over his shoulder. A car idles in your driveway, but you barely process it. Your eyes lock onto the messy strands of blonde peeking out from under his hoodie, his gaze searching yours. He looks at you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks.

“Y/N—” The door slams shut in his face before he can say another word.

Your breath stumbles. Your pulse pounds. The damp strands of your hair cling to your neck as you press your back against the door, fingers gripping the handle like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. Shit. He fucking looks good with his new dyed hair— wait. Don't think about that. What is he doing here?

“I’m parked out front,” his voice comes through the door, muffled but you hear it. “I just want to talk.” A shaky inhale. Then softer, “Baby, I’m here. When you’re ready, just open the door.”

His footsteps retreat.

You start pacing, your heart ricocheting against your ribs. He’s here. He came all this way. After everything you stupidly said. You hurt him yet—

The doorbell rings again.

You yank it open, “Wait, my ass—”

“Chinese takeout for Y/N?” The delivery guy blinks at you, holding up the bag.

“Oh.” You blush, embarrassed. You fumble for your wallet, signing the receipt with shaky hands. Your eyes keep drifting past him, toward the car still parked in front of your house.

Just like what he said. He's there.

The hours slip away unnoticed, morning fading seamlessly into afternoon. Every time you steal a glance through the curtain, he’s still there. Evening creeps in as you start making dinner. Without thinking, you plate portions for two. Your hands hesitate over the dishes, your heart heavy. When you check the clock, it’s 8 p.m. He’s been outside for twelve hours—silent, waiting.

Just like he promised. He never knocked again. Twelve hours. Your hands tremble as you turn off the stove. He must’ve just come from another gruelling day, looking like he’d stepped off a plane after hours in the air—rumpled, drained, and still without rest.

Why did you let him wait this long?

You don’t stop to think anymore. You grab your keys, shove your feet into your slippers, and head straight for his car, blinking back the tears that blur your vision.

He must see you coming because, before you even reach him, the car door swings open.

And there he is.

His hoodie is pushed back now, his hair slightly dishevelled like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. His face is drawn, exhausted. His eyes—red-rimmed, heavy, like he’s been crying for hours. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Come inside,” Your voice cracks, but you don’t stop. You just turn around and head back toward the door. You don’t have to look back to know he’s following.

He steps inside, his tall frame filling the space as you quietly shut the door behind him. Your apartment looks small with him around. When you turn, your eyes meet, "Beomgyu—"

You barely get his name out before he’s on you. He can't stop himself anymore. It’s how you looked outside, so effortless—your hair pinned up, the simplicity of your everyday clothes, and yet, you somehow seemed untouchable. He envisions a life with you, a routine, your soft smile waiting for him when he comes home, you looking like something angelic—his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body heat searing through your clothes. His lips crash into yours—hungry, desperate, like he’s been starved for you. His mouth moves against yours, claiming, taking.

His fingers thread through your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue slides against yours. His hands roam down, gripping, pulling, making sure you feel every bit of him. He grabs your wrists, lifting them, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lips move to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath ragged as he nips your sensitive skin. "I missed you," he murmurs. Another kiss—hotter, deeper, his body pressing your back against the wall. "I got fucking scared you'd never open the door."

His movements were hurried, frantic, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he lifted you, his steps unsteady as he carried you to the bedroom. Your bedroom. The air felt heavy as he laid you down on the mattress.

"I get it. I know you don’t mean it—that you really believe this is for the best." His voice softens, almost breaking. He presses his crotch to yours, eyes seeking yours. "But did it ever cross your mind what I want? What I think is best for me? For us?"

“I'm sorry,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve.

"I'll always forgive you." His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. He grinds desperately to you. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word as he captures your lips again and again. "Because your words could never hurt me as much as your leaving does."

You surrendered to his touch, your body softening beneath him. Your hands gripped his shoulders for balance as he pressed you deeper into the mattress, which groaned under your shifting weight. You reached for Beomgyu’s lips, catching him off guard as you kissed him with everything you had, tongues colliding in a heated frenzy. His hand slid between your thighs, cupping your middle and sending a shiver through you. But even in the haze of his taste, a heavy guilt settled in your chest. "Gyu,"

"I need you, baby. Or I'll go crazy." His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours. Your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on. His body pressed against yours, grinding to yours, while his hands roamed over your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. His lips trailed downward, leaving soft kisses that melted into your flesh, a path leading straight to your core.

He stripped you of every barrier, leaving you bare under his gaze. His eyes shimmered with adoration and awe as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He's on top of you, looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world.

Beomgyu's eyes never left yours as his fingers found your hand, seeking the place where the string was tied. The red thread appears, and he lifts it to his lips. A kiss—featherlight, reverent—pressed against the place where destiny tied you to him.

“It's going to be okay…” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. Tears pricked your eyes because you wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. His hands explored further, his fingers shakily reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly rubbing, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of.

"I'll fix it for us, for you." He looks at you—wanting to see every expression you make. He’s going to fuck you until you cum all over his dick and then he’ll do it again. Until you won't be able to think about leaving him anymore. He goes down further—kisses down and the smell of you is divine.

His face hovers and with his fingers he spreads you apart. He swallows—salivating. He sticks his tongue out, lightly licking your clit. You taste so—He buries his face in, tongue inside, hands on your hips. "Shit, you were really gonna leave me? And I was gonna miss this?" He groans, lapping up, sucking the arousal out of you. He moves up, nose bumping on your clit then he suckles more. His cock throbs with every taste of you, the way you melt against his mouth driving him insane. He feels you slick against his chin, but he doesn’t stop—doesn’t leave a single inch of you untouched by his warm, greedy mouth. It was as if your body had been crafted for his lips alone, flesh and heat meant to be devoured at his leisure.

When you tug hard on his hair, he groans against you, finally pulling back. His lips glisten as he moves up your body. He crashes his mouth onto yours, the kiss deep and hungry, and you taste yourself on his tongue—messy, desperate, a mix of him and you, blurring the lines between who’s devouring who.

“I love you,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—"I'm sorry it took this long."

"You feel so so good, don't ask me to stop, please." His touch was gentle even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,"

“I love you,” you replied, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist.

"Beomgyu, I— It was selfish of me—" You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw.

“Shh, no,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head. "None of this is your fault," he murmurs. "But you have to trust me now."

All the horrors inside you dissolve with every kiss he presses to your skin, each one stripping away the fear, the doubt, the self-imposed distance. He kisses you like he’s rewriting everything, like he knows exactly where every shattered piece of you belongs. As if he’s memorized the map of your ruin and decided, you were always meant to be whole.

And you let him.

Because now, in his arms, with his lips claiming yours over and over, only pulls away when breathing becomes a necessity—his forehead pressing against yours for a fleeting second before his mouth finds yours again, as if letting go for too long might break him, you realise the truth—it was foolish of you to think that pushing him away would solve it all.

It was foolish to ever believe you could ever live without him.

Waking up with Beomgyu’s arm draped over your bare waist felt like something out of a dream.

The second you tried to slip away, he pulled you right back in, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a sleepy rough hum. His grip was loose but unwilling, like even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go. He filled your morning with lazy kisses, tangled limbs, and muffled laughter, his fingers tracing over your bare skin.

You could live a lifetime like this and still never believe it was real.

Now, you sit at your vanity, dressed for work, fastening an earring as Beomgyu, fresh from the shower, tugs on a clean hoodie. He catches your eye in the mirror and grins as he walks over. “What are you doing baby? Dolled up and all.”

“Drying my hair,” you say, “I’m actually early today. Da-hee is dropping by later too, by the way.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you.” He leans down, eyes flickering to the hairdryer on the desk. He picks it up, flipping it on. “I know how to do this.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh. I could probably do your makeup too.” He presses a teasing kiss to your cheek, making you giggle.

The warmth of the dryer was against your scalp as he carefully runs his fingers through your hair, drying it with surprising patience. His touch lingers even after the dryer clicks off, his fingers gently gathering strands of your hair.

“I used to braid my mom’s hair when I was younger,” he murmurs. “I want to do yours too.” You nod, watching him through the mirror, watching the way he looks at you with so much quiet devotion it nearly steals your breath. "It will be an honour to do this every day for you, you know."

And just like that, you fall in love all over again.

You sit in the passenger seat, your hair loosely braided—the proof that he wasn’t just bluffing. His fingers lace with yours as he drives, his thumb idly tracing circles against your skin. Every time the car slows at a red light, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you,”

He grins, that same cheeky, heart-stopping smile. "Love you more," he replies.

You let out a quiet breath, leaning your head against the window, watching the world blur past. But then—out of the corner of your eye—you see it.

And your breath catches in your throat.

Rain Lilies.

Flowers that shine the brightest in the wake of the storm.

It looks out of place. You remembered last night’s rain. It had come down in furious sheets, drowning the streets, washing everything away. The pavement is still slick, puddles reflecting the grey morning sky. And yet—there it is.

Small. Alive.

In the middle of a city that never stops, where people rush past without a second glance, too busy to care about a thing so insignificant, so easily overlooked—it stands, untouched. A quiet defiance against the cruelty that tried to take it.

It looks out of place, and it's beautiful.

If something this fragile can survive and still bloom—maybe, just maybe, so can you.

"Hyung!" Beomgyu’s laughter rings through the air as he runs straight into his brother’s arms. They embrace, laughing like they’re kids again, the older one attempting to lift him off the ground. Behind them, his parents rush to catch up, smiles stretched wide across their faces. The house, with its endless stretch of green, looks like out of a memory—soft, a paradise.

Beomgyu turns to you then, his hand resting gently on your back. His eyes soft when he speaks.

"Mom, Dad," he says, "This is Y/N."

You bow politely, but before you can even rise fully, his mother pulls you into a hug. "I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, dear," she murmurs against your shoulder.

When Beomgyu’s father steps forward, you feel your chest tighten. He smiles, and for a second, it’s like looking at Beomgyu in the years to come. His hug is just as warm, just as safe.

Lunch is a blur of laughter and stories, of hands brushing, of Beomgyu sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

His parents laugh along with your stories—the one about meeting his sweet members, and how Da-hee had begged to meet them in person. You describe her pale face, wide-eyed and on the verge of fainting the entire time, and how Beomgyu grew irritated every time Yeonjun jokingly flirted with you, insisting he should be your favorite.

But it’s the story of Beomgyu meeting your family last week that really gets them, how he’d been so polite, yet adorably nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he tried to make the right impression.

His mom grins, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’ll have to meet them soon,” she says, already making plans in her head, as if you’ve always been part of the family. At some point, Beomgyu tells them you’ll be staying for the week. They are overjoyed, and Toto, takes an instant liking to you.

Beomgyu sits on the porch, it's evening now.

This deck—he’s spent years here—on this very step, staring out at the world, wondering when he’d find you. Wondering if he ever would.

His fingers tighten around the handwritten letter on his phone screen, the words waiting to be sent out into the world. His heart pounds. What if they don’t understand? What if this changes everything? What if—

Laughter drifts from inside the house, yours mixing with his mom’s, his brother’s. It was the only assurance he'd ever need.

He exhales sharply, thumb hovering for only a second longer before he clicks post. It loads. He doesn’t watch. Just locks his phone and sets it aside as the front door creaks open.

"You’re trying to escape me, cookie?" Your voice is playful, arms crossing as you step toward him. Beomgyu only grins, shaking his head at the nickname his father gave him. He slips an arm around your shoulders as soon as you sit down, pulling you while he presses kisses on the side of your head.

"Never," His fingers find yours, a new habit of his—thumb caressing over your ring finger. His thoughts slip to the diamond ring hidden in his dorm, the one he bought after a week of meeting you. He just needs to find the right moment, the right words. Because even now, after everything, you still make him nervous. The way his heart races when you walk into a room, how everything seems to stop for a moment when you look his way.

He meets your smile with one of his own. Would he ever be this lucky in another life? To find you, to love you—not by destiny’s design, not by some divine script, but by choice?

Even without a soulmate mark, even without fate—

It would always be you.

Maybe in another world, the sky is burning, the world is ending, an apocalypse, and he still falls in love with you. Maybe in another life, he is a man undone, a husband who shatters more than he mends, but even then, he would spend eternity piecing himself back together just to be worthy of you.

Beomgyu knows this much: no matter the lifetime, no matter the universe, he will love you. Again and again, without hesitation, without end. As if loving you is written into the very fabric of his existence.

His fingers graze your cheek, and you lean into him like you were always meant to—like the universe has been bringing you back to him for centuries. Your smile reaches your eyes, soft and certain. His missing piece. The better half of him.

Beomgyu looks at you, and to him, you are something that comes after the rain—the hush of the earth reborn, the golden light breaking through the clouds, the promise that even the chaos was worth it.

He can’t help himself. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Not when your smile is the only thing he ever wants to see.

So he leans in.

The phone sits forgotten, lighting up with messages—teary words, heartfelt congratulations, the world calling for him. But none of it matters.

Because right now, you are in his arms. Right now, he is kissing the soft of your addicting lips. And right now, that is all that ever was, all that ever is, all that ever will be.

THE END.

taglist: I love you @beombunni @lovingbeomgyudayone @virtaideen @hyukascampfire @fancypeacepersona @bamgeutori @lilbrorufr @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @xylatox @imlonelydontsendhelp @yunverie @baekberrie @soobabby @hyunelixbun @kejingken @blossommi @sumzysworld @tyunningstar @filmnings @channieismylove @frankghgr @missychief1404 @fatbixchwithanopinion @saejinniestar @brrytears @sbnslver @hoefororeo @pagelets @urlocal-moa @ewsnup @moagyuu @melmochii

[choibeomgyuu]

BEOMGYU :: PANIC

[soobrownie]

My Bias' Bias Ep. 1-5

[dagonyang]

yeahh .. okayy

[aceorei]

ㅤㅤ⋆ ʕ -᷅ ༝-᷄ʔ ⁺ ∿ miracle . . ✿

[hyunchans]

changbin doing the ggum challenge with yeonjun (transl)