#yang jungwon

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CHERRY TREES

arranged husband!Jungwon x trophy wife!reader - confronting cold arranged husband on your first anniversary.

ENHA HARD HOURS 18+ MDNI, Angst, fluff, a second chance, the smut is crazy im ngl to u but the angst is worse, he actually goes insane like insane he loses it.

-

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed five times, its deep resonance echoing through the marble corridors of your estate. Without opening your eyes, you knew Jungwon was already awake. The mattress dipped slightly as he carefully extracted himself from beneath the Egyptian cotton covers, his movements deliberately gentle to avoid disturbing you. You kept your breathing steady, maintaining the pretense of sleep as you had so many mornings before.

Through barely-parted lids, you watched his silhouette move through the predawn darkness. Jungwon's routine never varied—not on weekends, holidays, or even the morning after your anniversary celebration when he'd had perhaps one glass of Château Margaux too many. Five a.m. meant feet on the floor, regardless of circumstance.

He disappeared into the expansive en-suite bathroom, closing the door with practiced quietness before the shower began to run. You rolled over to face the floor-to-ceiling windows, abandoning the charade of sleep. Outside, the manicured gardens remained dark and still, mirroring the atmosphere that permeated your mansion despite its immaculate decoration and luxurious furnishings.

One year of marriage. Three hundred and sixty-five mornings of this same choreographed dance.

By the time Jungwon emerged from the bathroom, you had straightened your side of the bed and donned your silk robe. He nodded in acknowledgment, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

"Good morning," he said, voice pleasant but neutral. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"No, I was already awake," you lied, the response automatic after months of repetition. "Will you be joining me for breakfast on the terrace today?"

He checked his watch—the elegant Patek Philippe you'd given him on your six-month anniversary. "I have an early meeting. I'll grab something at the office."

You nodded, expecting this answer. Despite your chef preparing an elaborate breakfast spread every morning, Jungwon rarely sat down to eat it. You'd long since stopped taking it personally, instead viewing it as simply another aspect of your peculiar marriage.

"Madame," came a soft voice from the doorway. Your personal maid stood waiting respectfully. "The blue gown has been pressed for tonight's charity auction, and Mrs. Yang called to confirm your appointment at the salon at two."

"Thank you. Please tell the chef I'll be down shortly."

Jungwon's expression softened momentarily with what might have been gratitude. "The blue gown is a good choice. It matches the sapphires."

The brief warmth in his eyes vanished so quickly you questioned whether you'd imagined it. He dressed efficiently, selecting the navy suit you'd suggested earlier in the week. You busied yourself reviewing the day's schedule on your tablet, giving him space while maintaining the illusion of comfortable domesticity.

"I'll send the car for you at six," he said, adjusting his tie in the mirror. Perfect Windsor knot, as always. "The auction starts at seven, but your mother-in-law suggested we arrive early to greet the host committee."

"I'll be ready," you assured him. "The blue complements the sapphires your family gifted me last Christmas—perfect for the society photographers."

He nodded approvingly. "Perfect. The Yangs must maintain appearances."

The phrase hung in the air between you, a reminder of what truly bound you together. Not love or passion or even friendship, but appearances. The Yang family name and reputation, upheld through generations and now entrusted to Jungwon—and by extension, to you.

Before leaving, he stopped at the bedroom door. "The new arrangement in the grand foyer—the one with the peonies and orchids. My mother asked for the name of your florist."

"I'd be happy to share their contact information," you replied, surprised that he'd noticed the flowers at all.

He hesitated, as if considering saying something more, then simply nodded and left. Moments later, you heard the soft purr of his car starting in the circular driveway below.

The suite fell silent, save for the continuing measured tick of the antique clock.

By eleven, you had completed your morning inspection of the household: reviewing the dinner menu with the chef, approving the landscaping plans for the east garden, and confirming that the linens for Friday's dinner party had been properly pressed. The mansion operated with clockwork precision under your supervision, a showcase of domestic perfection that visitors frequently praised.

Your phone chimed with a text message from Mrs. Yang—your mother-in-law.

The charity auction tonight is a perfect opportunity to connect with the Singhs. Their daughter returned from Oxford and has taken over their foundation. Jungwon could use their support for the new community project.

You typed a gracious reply, assuring her you would make the introduction. This was part of your unspoken role: social facilitator, network cultivator, the charming counterbalance to Jungwon's more reserved demeanor in public. Mrs. Yang had explicitly voiced her approval of your social graces during the marriage negotiations, though she'd phrased it more delicately at the time.

In the solarium, you sipped tea and reviewed correspondence on your tablet. The household staff moved efficiently around the estate, their presence indicated only by the occasional distant voice or the soft closing of a door. This cocoon of luxury and service had become your domain—a gilded cage, perhaps, but one you managed with impeccable skill.

The charity auction venue sparkled with crystal chandeliers and the gleam of expensive jewelry. You stood beside Jungwon, your hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm as he conversed with an important international investor. Your blue gown complemented the subtle blue in Jungwon's tie, a coordinated detail that Mrs. Yang had encouraged early in your marriage.

"And what do you think of the market's new direction?" the investor asked, unexpectedly turning to include you in the conversation.

Without missing a beat, you offered a thoughtful response based on fragments you'd gathered from Jungwon's rare comments about business. Your husband's arm tensed slightly beneath your hand—in surprise or approval, you couldn't tell.

"You've got yourself a perceptive wife, Yang," the man laughed, clearly impressed. "Better be careful or I'll recruit her for my advisory board."

Jungwon smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his handsome face. "I'm very fortunate," he agreed, turning to look at you with apparent pride.

For a moment—just a moment—the warmth in his eyes seemed real. Then a passing waiter offered champagne, and the connection broke as he reached for two glasses.

The evening continued in this manner: introductions, small talk, strategic conversations with selected guests, and the careful maintenance of the image you projected as a couple. Jungwon's hand occasionally rested at the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd with gentle pressure. To anyone watching, the gesture appeared intimate and caring.

"Your work with the children's literacy foundation has been inspirational," commented Ms. Singh as you were introduced. "My father is quite impressed."

You played your part flawlessly. Laughed at the right moments. Showed appropriate interest in business discussions. Made mental notes of important names and connections to record later in your planner. You orchestrated the introduction to the Singh family that appeared completely spontaneous, fulfilling your mother-in-law's request with such subtlety that even Jungwon seemed unaware of the manipulation.

During a lull in the event, you excused yourself to visit the ladies' room. Standing before the mirror, you studied your reflection: perfectly applied makeup, not a hair out of place, the picture of a successful young wife. Other women came and went, exchanging pleasantries, complimenting your gown or asking about upcoming social events.

"You and Jungwon always look so happy together," sighed a fellow socialite as she applied fresh lipstick. "My husband can barely remember which events are on our calendar, let alone coordinate his tie with my outfit."

You smiled politely. "Jungwon is very attentive to details."

When you returned to the main hall, you spotted your husband across the room, engaged in conversation with the Singh patriarch as you had arranged. His posture was relaxed, confident, his expression animated as he discussed something that clearly interested him. You rarely saw that expression at home.

As if sensing your gaze, he looked up and met your eyes across the crowded room. For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered across his face. He excused himself from the conversation and made his way to your side.

"Is everything alright?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," you assured him. "Mr. Singh seems interested in your project."

He nodded. "Yes, thank you for the introduction. He mentioned you'd spoken highly of the initiative."

"That's what wives do, isn't it?" you replied, the words emerging more wistfully than you'd intended.

Jungwon studied your face, his brow furrowing slightly. "Are you tired? We can leave if you'd like."

"No," you said quickly. "Your mother would be disappointed if we left before the final auction lot."

The mention of his mother was enough to settle the matter. Jungwon nodded and offered his arm again, leading you back into the social whirl. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of smiles and small talk, your practiced responses on autopilot while your mind drifted elsewhere.

The mansion was quiet when you returned just after midnight, though a few lights remained on for your arrival. The night butler opened the door as the car pulled up.

"Welcome home, Madame, Sir," he greeted with a respectful bow. "May I bring anything before you retire?"

"No thank you," Jungwon replied, loosening his tie. "That will be all for tonight."

As the butler disappeared, Jungwon turned to you in the grand foyer, its marble floors gleaming under the soft chandelier light. "Successful evening," he commented, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "The Singhs have invited us to their summer compound next month."

"That's wonderful," you replied, slipping off your heels with a small sigh of relief. "Your mother will be pleased."

He set down his keys and looked at you directly, something he rarely did at home. "You don't need to keep mentioning my mother. I'm capable of recognizing business opportunities on my own."

The unexpected sharpness in his tone surprised you. "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise."

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, disheveling it slightly. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong."

The apology hung awkwardly between you. Jungwon rarely expressed irritation, maintaining the same polite distance whether discussing dinner plans or household accounts.

"It's late," you said finally. "We're both tired."

He nodded, the momentary crack in his composure already repaired. "I have some work to finish. Don't wait up."

You watched him retreat to his home office, the door closing firmly behind him. In the kitchen, you found the chef had left a covered plate of small desserts and a pot of tea keeping warm. The thoughtful gesture—understanding your tendency to skip dinner at formal events—brought an unexpected lump to your throat.

The mansion was beautiful—spacious, elegantly decorated, with every luxury and convenience. The marriage looked perfect from the outside: handsome, successful husband; accomplished, supportive wife; respected families united through a beneficial alliance. You wanted for nothing material.

And yet.

Upstairs, your nightwear had already been laid out and the bed turned down. In the adjoining bathroom, you methodically removed your jewelry and makeup, the familiar routine requiring no thought. Your reflection stared back, younger without the carefully applied cosmetics but somehow sadder too.

When you finally slipped between the cool sheets, Jungwon's side of the bed remained empty. You knew from experience that he might not come upstairs for hours. Sometimes you woke briefly in the night to feel the mattress dip as he joined you, maintaining a careful distance even in sleep.

As exhaustion pulled you toward unconsciousness, you wondered—not for the first time—what thoughts occupied your husband's mind during his late-night work sessions. Whether he ever questioned the arrangement that had brought you together. Whether he ever wished for something more than this immaculate, empty performance you both maintained.

Outside, a gentle rain began to fall against the panoramic windows, drops catching the moonlight like silver tears against the darkness.

-

The first anniversary dinner had been your mother-in-law's idea.

"A small celebration," she'd said during your weekly tea. "Nothing extravagant, of course. Just family to commemorate the successful first year."

You'd nodded and smiled, playing your part. "I'll coordinate with the chef for a special menu."

A successful first year. The phrase echoed in your mind as you supervised the staff arranging peonies and orchids in the dining room—Jungwon's mother's favorites. The crystal gleamed under the chandelier light, the silver polished to mirror brightness, the napkins folded into perfect swans. Success measured in appearances, in business connections forged, in social obligations fulfilled.

Not in moments of genuine connection, in shared laughter, in the casual intimacy of a hand brushing hair from your face. Those metrics of success remained conspicuously absent from your marriage ledger.

"The wine selection has been brought up from the cellar, Madame," said the butler. "And the chef has prepared the appetizers exactly as you specified."

"Thank you," you replied, adjusting a place setting minutely. "Mr. Yang will be home by seven, and his parents will arrive at seven-thirty."

The butler nodded and withdrew, leaving you alone in the perfect dining room of your perfect mansion in your perfect marriage that was, somehow, entirely empty.

Jungwon arrived precisely at seven, as predictable as the sunrise. You heard the familiar sound of his car, followed by his measured footsteps in the foyer. When he appeared in the doorway of the dining room, he was already dressed in the suit you'd laid out—the charcoal gray Tom Ford that his mother once commented made him look distinguished.

"Everything looks lovely," he said, surveying the room with appreciative eyes. "You've outdone yourself."

"Thank you," you replied, accepting the compliment with practiced grace. "Your mother mentioned Mr. Kim might join them. I've set an extra place just in case."

Something flickered across Jungwon's face—annoyance, perhaps. "He wasn't mentioned to me."

"He's the family attorney. Perhaps there's business to discuss."

"On our anniversary dinner?" The edge in Jungwon's voice surprised you. "Some things should remain separate from business."

You studied your husband's face, wondering at this unusual display of emotion. "Would you prefer I call your mother and inquire?"

"No," he said, composure returning like a mask sliding back into place. "It doesn't matter."

But it did matter, and the tension in his shoulders told you so. This was new—this momentary crack in the facade. You wanted to press further, to understand what had triggered this response, but years of social conditioning held you back.

Instead, you said, "There's time for a drink before they arrive. Would you like something?"

He nodded, following you to the sitting room where the bar cart awaited. You poured him two fingers of the Macallan 25-year he preferred, your movements precise and practiced. When you handed him the crystal tumbler, your fingers brushed his—an accidental touch that shouldn't have felt significant but somehow did.

"One year," he said quietly, staring into the amber liquid.

"Yes," you agreed, pouring yourself a small measure of the same. "It's gone quickly."

The silence between you stretched, filled with all the words neither of you knew how to say. Jungwon seemed on the verge of speaking when the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of his parents.

The moment, whatever it might have been, evaporated.

Dinner progressed with the same choreographed precision as every family gathering. Mrs. Yang complimented the decor, inquired about your recent charity work, and dominated the conversation with updates on various family connections. Mr. Yang, stern and reserved like his son, contributed occasional comments about business or politics. And Mr. Kim, who had indeed accompanied them, observed it all with the calculated interest of someone evaluating an investment.

"The first year is always the most challenging," Mrs. Yang declared over the entrée, smiling at you and Jungwon with evident satisfaction. "And you two have managed it beautifully."

"Indeed," agreed Mr. Kim, raising his wine glass in a small toast. "The Yang family's standing has only strengthened. Your partnership has proven most advantageous."

Partnership. Not marriage. The distinction wasn't lost on you.

"And the foundation gala last month," Mrs. Yang continued. "Several board members commented on how impressive you both were. The Choi family was particularly taken with you, dear." She directed this last comment at you. "Mrs. Choi mentioned how fortunate Jungwon is to have found such an accomplished wife."

"I am fortunate," Jungwon agreed smoothly, the response automatic. He didn't look at you as he said it.

"Now, about the expansion into renewable energy," Mr. Yang began, turning to his son. "The board is meeting next week to discuss the proposal."

Business at the anniversary dinner, just as you'd predicted. You caught Jungwon's eye across the table, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. For once, it felt like you were truly on the same side, united in your recognition of the situation's irony.

As the men discussed business, Mrs. Yang leaned closer to you. "You know, dear, I've been meaning to ask... it's been a year now. Any news you'd like to share? Any... expectations?"

The delicate emphasis made her meaning clear. You felt heat rise to your face, embarrassment mingling with a deeper discomfort.

"Not yet," you replied quietly, maintaining your composure despite the intrusive question.

"Well, there's still time," she said, patting your hand. "Though of course, an heir is important for the Yang legacy. My husband's grandmother used to say, 'A tree without new leaves withers.'"

You nodded politely, taking a sip of wine to avoid having to respond further. Across the table, you noticed Jungwon's shoulders tense, though he gave no other indication of having overheard.

The rest of the evening passed in a similar vein—discussions of business, thinly veiled inquiries about family planning, and reminiscences about the wedding that focused primarily on its beneficial outcomes for the Yang family interests.

Not once did anyone ask if you were happy.

After seeing his parents and Mr. Kim to the door, Jungwon returned to the sitting room where you were nursing a final glass of wine. The house felt unnaturally quiet after the departure of the guests, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts.

"My mother was pleased," he said, loosening his tie and pouring himself another whiskey. "She said the dinner was perfect."

"Of course she did," you replied, a hint of bitterness seeping into your voice despite your best efforts. "Everything about us is perfect on the surface."

Jungwon looked at you sharply. "What does that mean?"

The wine, the emotional strain of the evening, the accumulation of a year's worth of silences—something inside you finally cracked.

"It means this," you gestured between the two of you, "isn't a marriage. It's a business arrangement with living quarters."

His expression hardened. "That's unfair. I've given you everything you could want."

"Everything except yourself," you countered, your voice rising slightly. "We live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, but you might as well be a thousand miles away."

"I don't know what you expect," he said stiffly. "We both understood the nature of this marriage from the beginning."

"Did we? Because I didn't agree to a lifetime of politeness and distance. I didn't agree to be nothing more than the perfect hostess and social coordinator for your business connections."

Jungwon set down his glass with careful precision. "You've never complained before."

"When would I have complained, Jungwon? During the three minutes of conversation we have each morning? Or perhaps during our public performances where we pretend to be a loving couple?"

He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling its perfect arrangement. "I thought you were satisfied with our arrangement. You manage the household, attend the events, fulfill your responsibilities—"

"Responsibilities?" The word struck like a match against your accumulated frustration. "Is that all I am to you? A set of responsibilities to be fulfilled?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? Please, enlighten me about my role in this arrangement, since clearly I've misunderstood."

His jaw tightened. "You're my wife."

"Your wife," you repeated, the word suddenly sounding hollow. "And what does that mean to you? Because from where I stand, I might as well be your assistant or your housekeeper for all the genuine connection between us."

"You're being dramatic," he said dismissively. "Perhaps you've had too much wine."

The condescension in his tone was the final straw. A year of suppressed emotions—loneliness, frustration, yearning—erupted like a volcano too long dormant.

"Don't you dare dismiss me," you snapped, rising to your feet. "I have spent a year of my life walking on eggshells, trying to be perfect, trying to please you and your family, and for what? A thank you when I select the right tie? A nod of approval when I make the right business connection?"

Jungwon stared at you, clearly taken aback by your outburst. "I don't understand where this is coming from."

"Of course you don't! You've never bothered to see me as anything more than a convenient addition to your perfectly ordered life. Wake up at five, ignore wife, go to work, come home, work more, sleep. Repeat until death."

"That's not fair," he protested, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Isn't it? When was the last time you asked me about my day? Or shared something personal about yours? When was the last time you looked at me—really looked at me—not as the 'Madame' of this house or as an accessory at a business function, but as a woman? As your wife?"

The color drained from Jungwon's face, but you were beyond stopping now. The floodgates had opened, and a year's worth of unspoken thoughts poured forth in a torrent.

"We haven't even consummated our marriage, Jungwon! One year, and you've never once reached for me in the night. Never once kissed me with anything resembling passion. Do you have any idea how that feels? To lie beside someone night after night, wanting to be touched, to be desired, and meeting nothing but polite distance?"

His eyes widened in shock at your bluntness. "I—I thought you preferred our current arrangement. You never indicated—"

"Indicated?" You laughed, the sound brittle. "Would it have mattered if I had? You barely look at me when we're alone together. You keep yourself locked in your office until I'm asleep. Tell me, Jungwon, are you repulsed by me? Is that it?"

"No!" The vehemence of his response surprised you both. "That's not it at all."

"Then what? What keeps you at arm's length? Because I can't live like this anymore—this half-life of appearances and politeness with nothing real beneath it."

You moved closer, anger giving you courage you'd never had before. "How do you satisfy your desires, Jungwon? Do you have someone else? Some mistress in an apartment downtown who gets to see the real you? Who gets to feel your touch, your passion?"

He looked genuinely shocked. "There's no one else. I would never—"

"Then what?" Your voice broke slightly. "Are you simply that cold? That disconnected from your own body, your own needs? Because I refuse to believe a healthy man in his prime feels nothing, wants nothing."

Jungwon's jaw tightened. "This conversation is inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?" You were nearly shouting now. "We're married! This is exactly the conversation we should have had months ago! Do you have any idea what it's like to wonder if there's something wrong with you? To lie awake wondering why your husband never reaches for you? To start believing that maybe you're fundamentally undesirable?"

"That's not—" he began, but you cut him off.

"I've started inventing stories in my head, Jungwon. Elaborate scenarios to explain why my husband treats me like a porcelain doll. Maybe you're secretly in love with someone from your past. Maybe you prefer men. Maybe you have some medical condition you're too embarrassed to discuss. I've considered everything because the alternative—that you simply feel nothing for me—is too painful to bear."

His face had gone pale. "It's none of those things."

"Then help me understand," you pleaded, anger giving way to raw vulnerability. "Because the silence is killing me. The wondering is killing me. Are you like this with everyone? This... removed? This contained? Or is it just me you can't bring yourself to touch?"

Jungwon paced away from you, his composure cracking visibly. For a moment, he looked like he might retreat to his office—his usual escape—but instead, he stopped at the window, staring out at the darkness.

"I live in my head," he said so quietly you almost missed it. "Always have. Physical... intimacy... doesn't come naturally to me."

"Have you ever let yourself feel something?" you asked, your tone softer now. "With anyone?"

He was silent for so long you thought he might not answer. When he did, his voice was strained. "There was someone in college. It ended badly. I lost control, became... emotional. My father said it was embarrassing. Unbecoming of a Yang."

The confession surprised you. This tiny glimpse into his past felt like more intimacy than you'd experienced in a year of marriage.

"And since then?"

"Since then I've learned to be careful. Controlled." He turned to face you. "I thought I was respecting your space. Your independence."

"Respecting my space?" You stared at him incredulously. "There's a difference between respect and indifference, Jungwon."

"I'm not indifferent to you," he said quietly.

"Then what are you? Because from my perspective, I might as well be living alone for all the emotional connection between us."

He turned away again, his shoulders rigid with tension. "I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"This." He gestured vaguely. "Marriage. Intimacy. I wasn't raised for it."

"Neither was I," you countered. "But I'm trying. I've been trying for a year while you've been hiding behind work and politeness and duty."

You moved to stand beside him at the window, close but not touching. "Do you ever look at me and feel anything, Jungwon? Anything at all? Because sometimes I catch you watching me when you think I won't notice, and there's something in your eyes that disappears the moment I turn toward you."

He swallowed visibly. "I notice everything about you," he admitted, the words seeming to cost him. "The way you arrange flowers according to your mood. How you always leave the last bite of dessert. The small sigh you make when you're reading something that touches you."

The revelation stunned you. "Then why—"

"Because wanting leads to needing," he interrupted, his voice suddenly raw. "And needing makes you vulnerable. My father taught me that. The moment you need someone, you've given them the power to destroy you."

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of truths finally spoken aloud. When Jungwon finally turned back to face you, his expression was uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, and for once, the question seemed genuine.

The simplicity of the question momentarily deflated your anger. What did you want? It was a question you'd asked yourself countless times during sleepless nights.

"I want a husband, not a housemate," you said finally. "I want to know the man behind the perfect facade. I want to feel wanted, desired, known. I want the possibility of love, even if it's not there yet."

Your voice cracked on the last words, and you felt tears threatening. "Sometimes I think if I sleep with you once and let you get me pregnant, at least I won't be so damn lonely. At least I'd have someone who needs me, truly needs me, not just for appearances or social connections."

"A child deserves better than to be born from desperation," Jungwon said softly, surprising you with his insight.

"And a wife deserves better than emotional abandonment," you countered. "I look at other couples sometimes—even the arranged marriages in our circle—and I see moments of genuine tenderness. A hand on a shoulder. A private smile. Small intimacies that say 'I see you, I choose you.' We have none of that, Jungwon."

He flinched as if struck. "Is that what you think? That I only see you as a means to an heir?"

"How would I know what you think?" you demanded. "You barely speak to me about anything that matters. For all I know, you've mapped out our entire future in that methodical mind of yours—the optimal time for children, their education, their role in continuing the Yang legacy—all without once considering what I might want, what I might need as a woman, as a person."

"That's not true," he protested, but his voice lacked conviction.

"When have you ever shared your fears with me, Jungwon? Your hopes? Your dreams beyond the next business deal or family obligation? When have you ever asked about mine?"

He had no answer, and his silence was damning.

"I can't do this anymore," you said, suddenly exhausted. "I can't keep pretending that this empty performance is enough. I need more than politeness and perfect appearances. I need connection. I need intimacy. I need to at least feel that there's the possibility of love someday."

"And if I can't give you that?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

The question hung in the air between you, a challenge and a plea at once. You met his gaze directly.

"Then this marriage is already over, regardless of what we show the world."

The words fell like stones into still water, ripples of consequence expanding outward. Jungwon's face paled, and something like genuine fear flickered in his eyes.

"You would leave?" he asked, the question revealing more vulnerability than he'd shown in a year of marriage.

"Not in body, perhaps," you replied. "The scandal would devastate both our families. But in spirit? I'm already halfway gone, Jungwon. Every day of polite distance pushes me further away."

He sank onto the sofa, looking suddenly lost. This wasn't the composed, controlled man you'd lived alongside for a year. This was someone else—someone real and raw and unsure.

"I don't know how to be what you need," he admitted finally.

"I'm not asking for perfection," you said, your anger giving way to a profound sadness. "I'm asking for effort. For honesty. For the chance to build something real together, even if it's difficult. Even if we don't know exactly how."

Jungwon stared at his hands, his wedding ring catching the light. For a long moment, he said nothing. When he finally looked up, his eyes held a complexity of emotion you'd never seen before.

"I need time," he said. "To think. To... process all of this."

The request was reasonable, but it still stung. Even now, faced with the potential collapse of your marriage, he couldn't give you an immediate response.

"Fine," you said, suddenly bone-weary. "Take your time. You know where to find me."

You turned to leave, your body heavy with emotional exhaustion, when his voice stopped you.

"Where are you going?"

"To the blue guest room," you replied without turning. "I think we both need space tonight."

He made no move to stop you as you left the sitting room, your anniversary dress rustling softly with each step. The grand staircase seemed longer than usual, each step an effort. Behind you, you heard the clink of glass—Jungwon pouring another drink, perhaps, or simply moving restlessly in the silent house.

The blue guest room was immaculate, as was every room in the mansion, but it felt cold and impersonal. You sat on the edge of the bed, still in your evening dress, too tired even to cry. The confrontation had drained you completely, leaving nothing but a hollow ache where hope had once resided.

From the nightstand, your phone chimed with a message. Mechanically, you reached for it, expecting perhaps your mother-in-law with some post-dinner comment.

Instead, it was Jungwon.

I do want you. I always have. That's what frightens me.

You stared at the screen, the words blurring slightly as you read them over and over. A text message—that was what it had taken to finally glimpse the man behind the mask. Not a conversation, not a touch, but characters on a screen.

Another message appeared below the first.

I'm sorry. I should have said this to your face.

I'll be in the study when you're ready to talk. No matter how late.

The formality, even now. The careful distance maintained even in apology. You placed the phone back on the nightstand without responding, a weariness settling over you that went beyond physical exhaustion.

For a moment, you sat motionless on the edge of the guest bed, the weight of the past year pressing down on your shoulders. The perfect house with its perfect furnishings suddenly felt suffocating—every object a reminder of the performance your life had become.

You rose and moved to the window, pressing your palm against the cool glass. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the night remained dark and close. The mansion grounds, usually so meticulously maintained, seemed oppressive in their perfection. Even the garden paths were laid out with mathematical precision, every plant and stone exactly where it should be.

Like you. Exactly where you should be. The proper wife in her proper place.

The realization came suddenly, with absolute clarity: you couldn't stay here tonight. Not in this guest room, not in this house, not with Jungwon waiting in his study for a conversation that would likely end with more careful words and measured promises.

You needed air. Space. A place where you could remember who you were before becoming Mrs. Yang.

With deliberate movements, you changed out of your evening dress and into simple clothes. Packed a small overnight bag with essentials. Found your personal credit card—the one not connected to the Yang family accounts.

You hesitated only when it came time to write a note. What could you possibly say that wouldn't be misinterpreted or dismissed? In the end, you kept it simple:

I need space to breathe. Please don't follow me. I'll contact you when I'm ready.

You left it on the bed, where it would surely be found when someone came looking for you. Then, silently, you made your way down the service stairs and through the side entrance—avoiding the main foyer where you might encounter Jungwon.

The night air hit your face as you stepped outside, cool and clean and startlingly fresh. You took a deep breath, perhaps the first real one in months, and felt something inside you loosen just slightly.

You didn't call for the driver. Instead, you walked down the long driveway and past the gates, your heartbeat quickening with each step that took you farther from the mansion. Only when you reached the main road did you order a rideshare, giving the address of an old friend—one who predated your marriage, who had no connection to the Yang family circle.

As the car pulled away, you glanced back at the house—a magnificent silhouette against the night sky, lights burning in the study window where Jungwon waited for a conversation that wouldn't happen tonight.

Tomorrow would bring complications, explanations, perhaps reconciliation. But tonight, for the first time in a year, you were choosing yourself.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Jungwon.

Are you coming down?

You turned off the notifications and watched the mansion recede in the distance, growing smaller until it disappeared from view entirely.

-

The city lights blurred through your tears as the car wound its way through the quiet streets. The driver, sensing your distress, maintained a respectful silence, occasionally glancing at you in the rearview mirror with concern. You kept your face turned toward the window, watching as elite neighborhoods gave way to more modest surroundings.

When the car finally pulled up outside Leah's apartment building, you sat motionless for a moment, suddenly uncertain. It was past midnight. What if she wasn't home? What if she had company? What if—

"We're here, ma'am," the driver said gently, interrupting your spiraling thoughts.

"Thank you," you managed, gathering your small bag and stepping out into the night.

Leah's building was nothing like the Yang mansion—a six-story pre-war structure with a faded charm that stood in stark contrast to the sleek modernity you'd grown accustomed to. You hesitated at the entrance, then pressed her apartment number on the intercom.

After a long moment, a sleepy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Leah," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "It's me. I'm sorry it's so late, but—"

"Oh my god!" The sleepiness vanished instantly. "Are you okay? I'm buzzing you up right now."

The door clicked open, and you made your way to the third floor, each step feeling heavier than the last. Before you could even knock, Leah's door swung open, revealing your oldest friend in mismatched pajamas, her curly hair wild around her face.

"What happened?" she demanded, then stopped as she took in your appearance—the elegant makeup now streaked with tears, the designer clothes hastily exchanged for whatever you'd grabbed, the overnight bag clutched in your trembling hand.

"Oh, honey," she said, simply opening her arms.

Something inside you broke. You stumbled forward into her embrace and the tears you'd been holding back for months—perhaps for the entire year of your marriage—finally erupted. Great, heaving sobs that shook your entire body, that made it impossible to speak or breathe or think.

Leah didn't ask questions. She simply guided you inside, closing the door behind you, and held you while you fell apart. Her apartment was cluttered and lived-in, books stacked on every surface, half-finished art projects leaning against walls—the complete opposite of your sterile perfection at the mansion.

"I can't—" you tried to speak, but the words dissolved into more tears.

"Shh," she soothed, leading you to her worn but comfortable couch. "Just breathe. That's all you need to do right now."

You don't know how long you cried—long enough for your eyes to swell, for your throat to grow raw, for Leah's shoulder to become damp with your tears. Eventually, the storm subsided enough for you to become aware of your surroundings again. Leah had wrapped a soft blanket around your shoulders and was pressing a mug of hot tea into your hands.

"Small sips," she instructed, settling beside you. "It has honey for your throat."

You obeyed, the warmth spreading through your chest, momentarily calming the chaos inside you.

"I left him," you said finally, your voice hoarse from crying.

Leah's eyebrows shot up. "Jungwon? You left Jungwon?"

"Just for tonight. Maybe a few days. I don't know." You shook your head, struggling to articulate the tangle of emotions. "I couldn't breathe there anymore, Leah. In that perfect house with its perfect things and its perfect emptiness."

"I always wondered," she said cautiously, "if you were really happy. You stopped talking about the real stuff after the wedding. It was all charity events and dinner parties, but never... you know. The actual marriage part."

"There was no marriage part," you confessed, fresh tears threatening. "That's the problem. We live side by side like strangers. Polite, distant strangers who happen to share the same address."

Leah reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "Did something specific happen tonight?"

You nodded, the evening's confrontation flashing through your mind in painful fragments. "We had our anniversary dinner with his parents. And after they left, I just... broke. All the things I've been holding back for a year came pouring out."

"Good for you," Leah said firmly.

"Is it?" You looked at her, uncertain. "I said terrible things, Leah. I accused him of seeing me as nothing but a showpiece, a means to an heir. I asked if he was repulsed by me. If he was sleeping with someone else."

"And what did he say?"

"He was shocked, mostly. I don't think anyone's ever spoken to him like that before." You took another sip of tea, gathering your thoughts. "But then he said something about... about wanting me but being afraid of needing someone. Of being vulnerable."

Leah nodded thoughtfully. "That actually makes a strange kind of sense. Your husband always struck me as someone who keeps himself under tight control."

"You've met him twice," you pointed out with a watery smile.

"Twice was enough." She grinned briefly, then grew serious again. "So what happens now?"

You shook your head, feeling utterly lost. "I don't know. I just knew I had to get out of there tonight. To remember what it feels like to be... me. Not Mrs. Yang, not the society hostess, just me."

"Well, you came to the right place," Leah said, gesturing around her chaotic apartment. "Nothing perfect or polished here. Just real life in all its messy glory."

For the first time that night, you felt a small laugh bubble up. "I've missed this. I've missed you."

"I've been right here," she reminded you gently. "You're the one who got swept up into the Yang universe."

The observation stung because it contained truth. After the wedding, you had gradually withdrawn from your old friendships, immersing yourself in the role expected of Jungwon's wife. It hadn't been a conscious choice, but rather a slow submersion into a new identity that had eventually consumed the person you used to be.

"I don't know who I am anymore," you confessed, the realization dawning as you spoke it. "I've spent so long being what everyone else needed me to be that I've forgotten what I actually want."

"Then maybe that's what this time away is for," Leah suggested. "To remember."

You nodded, exhaustion suddenly washing over you. The emotional release had drained what little energy you had left after the confrontation with Jungwon.

"The guest room is a disaster area right now—art supplies everywhere," Leah said apologetically. 

"The couch is perfect," you assured her, overwhelmed.

"Shut up, you'll sleep next to me,"

-

Jungwon sat in his study, crystal tumbler of whiskey untouched beside him, as he stared at his phone screen. The message showed as delivered, but not yet read. He refreshed the screen again, a gesture he'd repeated dozens of times in the last hour.

Are you coming down?

The timestamp mocked him. It had been nearly two hours since he'd sent it, and still no response. Unease had gradually transformed into concern, then alarm when he'd finally ventured upstairs to find the blue guest room empty, save for a handwritten note on the perfectly made bed.

I need space to breathe. Please don't follow me. I'll contact you when I'm ready.

The words had hit him with physical force. He stood there staring at the note, reading it over and over as if the sparse sentences might reveal some hidden meaning. Space to breathe. Had he really been suffocating you all this time without realizing it?

Now, back in his study, Jungwon fought against his instinct to act—to call security, to track your phone, to send drivers searching the city. You had asked for space. Following you would only prove that he couldn't respect your wishes, your independence. The very thing he'd convinced himself he'd been protecting all this time.

The irony wasn't lost on him.

Jungwon picked up his phone again, debating whether to try calling. His thumb hovered over your contact information before he set the device down with a sigh of frustration. What would he even say if you answered? The right words had eluded him for an entire year of marriage; they weren't likely to materialize now, in the middle of the night, after the worst fight of your relationship.

A relationship. Was that even the right word for what you had? You had called it a "business arrangement with living quarters," and the brutal accuracy of the description had left him speechless.

Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it completely. The careful composure he maintained at all times had crumbled the moment he'd found your note. Now, alone in his study, there was no one to witness his distress, his uncertainty, his fear.

Fear. That was the emotion he'd denied for so long, burying it beneath layers of control and duty. Fear of needing someone. Fear of being vulnerable. Fear of repeating his father's cold, loveless existence.

And in trying to avoid his father's mistakes, he had made his own. Different in method, perhaps, but identical in result: a wife who felt unseen, unwanted.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed two in the morning. Jungwon hadn't slept, had barely moved from his position at the desk. The silence of the mansion pressed in around him, no longer the peaceful quiet he'd always preferred, but an emptiness that echoed your absence.

On impulse, he rose and left the study, walking through the darkened house toward the master suite. Inside the bedroom, everything remained exactly as you'd both left it hours earlier—your perfume bottle on the vanity, your book on the nightstand, your robe draped over a chair. He moved to your side of the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and picked up the book you'd been reading.

A collection of poetry. Jungwon hadn't even known you liked poetry.

What else didn't he know about the woman he'd married? What interests, dreams, fears had you kept hidden—or worse, had tried to share only to be met with his characteristic reserve?

He opened the book to where a silk bookmark held your place. The poem was circled lightly in pencil:

Between what is said and not meant, And what is meant and not said, Most of love is lost.

The simple lines struck him with unexpected force. Jungwon stared at the words, wondering how many times you had tried to tell him what you needed, how many signals he had missed or misinterpreted.

From his pocket, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. His heart leapt as he fumbled to answer, but the caller ID showed his father's name, not yours.

"Father," he answered, struggling to keep his voice even. "It's very late."

"Where is your wife?" Mr. Yang's voice was sharp, cutting through the pretense of pleasantries.

Jungwon tensed. "How did you—"

"Mrs. Park saw her getting into a taxi. Alone. After midnight. She naturally called your mother with concerns."

Of course. The gossip network never slept. "She's visiting a friend," he said carefully.

"In the middle of the night? Without you?" His father's skepticism was palpable. "Do you take me for a fool, Jungwon? What's going on?"

A familiar pattern attempted to reassert itself—the urge to placate his father, to maintain appearances, to ensure the Yang family reputation remained unsullied. For a moment, he almost slipped into the expected response.

But the circled poem caught his eye again. Most of love is lost. He couldn't lose any more.

"We had a disagreement," Jungwon said finally, the admission feeling like ripping off a bandage. "She needed some space."

"A disagreement?" His father's tone grew icier. "Serious enough for her to leave the house? To risk being seen by others, creating speculation? What were you thinking, allowing this?"

The word "allowing" ignited something in him—a flicker of the same defiance he'd felt when his father had demanded he end his college relationship.

"I wasn't 'allowing' anything, Father. She's my wife, not my subordinate. She made a choice, and I'm respecting it."

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Never in his adult life had Jungwon spoken to his father with such open opposition.

"This is unacceptable," Mr. Yang said finally. "You will resolve whatever childish spat has occurred and bring her home immediately. The gala next week—"

"Is not as important as my marriage," Jungwon interrupted, surprising himself with the firmness in his voice.

"Your marriage? Suddenly you care about your marriage?" His father's laugh was without humor. "For a year you've treated it exactly as I advised—as a beneficial arrangement. Now you're telling me you've developed feelings? Become sentimental?"

The contempt in the older man's voice was unmistakable, but instead of cowering as he might have in the past, Jungwon felt a strange calm settle over him.

"Yes," he said simply. "I have feelings for my wife. I always have. And I've been wrong to hide them."

"This is disappointing, Jungwon. I expected better from you."

"I'm beginning to think your expectations are precisely the problem, Father." Jungwon took a deep breath. "I need to go now. It's late, and I have some thinking to do."

"Don't you dare hang up on—"

Jungwon ended the call, staring at the phone in mild disbelief at his own actions. Then, with deliberate movements, he silenced the device and set it aside.

Returning to the poetry book, he carefully noted the page number of the circled poem, then moved through the house to your closet. There, among the designer clothes and accessories, he searched for some clue to the woman behind the perfect facade—the woman he'd married but never truly allowed himself to know.

In the back of a drawer, he found a small wooden box, simple and clearly personal. For a moment, his ingrained respect for privacy warred with his desperate need to understand you. Privacy won—he couldn't begin rebuilding trust by violating it—but the box's existence gave him hope. There were parts of yourself you'd kept separate from your arranged life, a core identity preserved despite the pressures of being Mrs. Yang.

Jungwon returned to the study, his earlier paralysis replaced by a growing resolve. He wouldn't chase you—you'd asked for space, and he would respect that. But he could prepare for your return, could begin the work of becoming someone worthy of a second chance.

The task seemed monumentally difficult, decades of conditioning standing in opposition to what he now knew he needed to do. He had no model for the kind of husband he wanted to become, no example of vulnerability balanced with strength.

But for the first time since you'd walked out, Jungwon felt something like hope. If you gave him the chance, he would find a way to be better. To be real. To tear down the walls he'd built over a lifetime of emotional suppression.

Dawn was breaking outside the study windows when he finally drafted a message, simple and without expectation:

I understand you need space, and I respect that. I'll be here when you're ready to talk—whether that's tomorrow or next week. I'm sorry for a year of silence. I'm listening now.

He sent it before he could second-guess himself, then set the phone down and moved to the window. Outside, the gardens were beginning to emerge from darkness, the first light revealing dew on the perfectly manicured lawns.

For once, Jungwon didn't see the perfection. Instead, he noticed how the morning light caught in a spider's web between two branches, transforming the fragile structure into something beautiful and strong. Perhaps there was a lesson there, in vulnerability's unexpected resilience.

As the mansion gradually woke around him—staff arriving, coffee brewing, the day's preparations beginning—Jungwon remained at the window, watching the light change and wondering if you, wherever you were, might be watching the same sunrise.

-

The mansion felt impossibly silent as Jungwon moved through the darkened hallways, your poetry book clutched in his hand like a lifeline. Sleep had become not just elusive but impossible, the vast emptiness of your shared bed a physical manifestation of what had been missing between you for a year. The sheets still carried your scent—a subtle perfume that he'd never properly acknowledged until now, when its absence made the fabric seem cold and lifeless.

He couldn't bear to remain in that room, surrounded by the ghosts of a thousand nights spent in careful distance. Instead, he found himself back in his study, the room that had been his refuge from intimacy for so long. Now it felt like a prison of his own making, walls lined with business achievements that suddenly seemed hollow.

With trembling hands, he placed your book on his desk and opened it once more to the marked page, the one with the circled verse that had first pierced his carefully constructed armor:

Between what is said and not meant,

And what is meant and not said,

Most of love is lost.

His fingers traced your handwriting in the margin—small, delicate notes that revealed more about your inner thoughts than a year of careful conversation had. Next to this poem, you'd written simply: Us? with the question mark trailing off like a fading hope.

One word, followed by a question mark. So much longing contained in those three small letters. Had you written this recently, or months ago? Had you been silently questioning the emptiness between you while he maintained his facade of contentment?

Jungwon turned the page, discovering more of your markings. Some poems had stars beside them, others had entire stanzas underlined. Some had exclamation points, others question marks. It was like finding a secret language, a code he should have deciphered long ago.

A poem about two rivers running parallel without ever meeting carried your annotation: This is what marriage feels like. So close yet never touching.

His breath caught. When had you written that? While lying beside him in bed, bodies carefully not touching? While sitting across from him at breakfast, exchanging polite comments about the day ahead?

He continued reading, unable to stop himself now. Each page revealed more of your hidden inner life. A poem about seasonal changes had reminds me of childhood summers before expectations written in the margin. Another about distant mountains carried the note wish we could travel together somewhere without his family or business associates.

Each annotation was a window into desires you'd never expressed, dreams you'd kept hidden. Why had he never asked what you wanted? Where you longed to go? What made you happy?

The night deepened around him, but Jungwon barely noticed. He was falling into your world, glimpsing for the first time the woman behind the perfect wife he'd taken for granted.

Then he found a page with the corner folded down, a poem about physical love:

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Your handwriting beside it was more hurried, almost feverish: too much to hope for? would he ever lose control enough?

Jungwon's throat tightened painfully. All those nights lying beside you, maintaining a careful distance, while you marked poems about passion and wrote desperate questions no one would see. How many nights had you lain awake, wanting him to reach for you? How many times had you considered reaching for him, only to retreat in fear of rejection?

He turned more pages, finding increasingly intimate selections. Next to Pablo Neruda's words:

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes

You'd written: I dream of his mouth on my skin. Would he be disgusted by such thoughts?

The pain that shot through him was physical. Disgusted? How could you think that? But then, what else could you think when he'd maintained such careful distance, when he'd retreated to his study each night rather than face the vulnerability of desire?

Another poem, this one about hands tracing the geography of a lover's body, carried your note: I've memorized the shape of his hands during dinner parties, imagined them on me instead of on his wine glass.

Jungwon looked down at his own hands, remembering all the times they'd almost touched you—passing dishes at dinner, handing you into the car, the brief contact when giving you a gift—and how he'd always pulled back just slightly too soon. What would have happened if he'd let his fingers linger? If he'd given in to the urge to trace the line of your jaw, to feel the softness of your skin?

Hours passed as he lost himself in your secret thoughts. Some poems had tear stains, barely perceptible wrinkles in the paper where droplets had fallen and dried. Those broke him most of all—the tangible evidence of your solitary tears, shed perhaps just feet away from where he sat working, oblivious to your pain.

One poem about loneliness had simply: I am disappearing inside this house, inside this marriage, becoming nothing but "Mrs. Yang" scrawled across the bottom in handwriting that shook with emotion.

Dawn found him still at his desk, eyes burning from reading and from tears he hadn't realized he was shedding. The morning staff moved quietly through the house, shocked to see him disheveled and unshaven, the immaculate Yang heir looking like a man undone.

He ignored their concerned glances, your poetry book still open before him. But it wasn't enough. One book couldn't contain all of you. He needed more.

"Sir," the housekeeper approached hesitantly as Jungwon emerged from his study, still in yesterday's clothes, "would you like your breakfast now?"

"No," he replied, his voice hoarse from a night without sleep. "I need to see all of Madame's books. Every book in this house that she's ever touched."

The housekeeper exchanged a worried glance with the butler. "All of them, sir?"

"Every single one. Novels, poetry, anything with her handwriting in it. Bring them to the library."

He moved with feverish purpose to the library, pulling books from shelves himself—any that showed signs of your touch. Dog-eared pages, bookmarks, the slight cracking of spines that indicated frequent opening to favorite passages.

Throughout the day, the staff delivered more and more books—novels from your nightstand, reference books from the sunroom shelves, journals from your writing desk. Jungwon created careful piles around him, transforming the library floor into a map of your mind.

He found a travel book about Greece with dozens of Post-it notes marking specific locations. The private cove where no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked read one note that made his heart race. Another, beside a picture of a small village: No social obligations, no family expectations—heaven.

You'd been dreaming of escape. From the mansion, from the Yang name, from him? The thought was unbearable.

In your copy of Jane Eyre, he found your underlining of Rochester's passionate declaration: "I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you." Beside it, your handwriting: To be truly SEEN by someone. What would that feel like?

"Oh god," he whispered, the words escaping involuntarily. "You've never felt seen."

How could he have failed so completely? He, who prided himself on his attention to detail in business, had missed everything that mattered about the woman who shared his home, his name, his bed.

As afternoon turned to evening, Jungwon discovered a small leather journal tucked between larger books on a bottom shelf. He hesitated, knowing this was crossing a line from reading your notes to reading your private thoughts. But his need to know you, to understand what he'd missed, overrode his sense of propriety.

The journal wasn't a diary but a collection of poems you'd written yourself, clumsy in places but raw with emotion:

I practice conversations with you in my head

Witty things I might say that would make you look at me

Really look at me

But when you enter the room

My words evaporate like morning dew

And we speak of dinner parties and business associates

Never of stars or dreams or why your eyes

Sometimes follow me when you think I don't notice

Jungwon felt his careful composure—the mask he'd worn his entire adult life—shatter completely. You had seen him watching you. Had known there was something beneath his polite facade. But he'd never given you enough to be sure, had never been brave enough to let you see his wanting.

Another poem, dated just two months ago:

Your fingers brushed mine as you handed me a glass

Accidental touch that burned through my skin

I wonder if you felt it too

That current between us, electric and dangerous

Or if I imagined it, desperate for connection

For any sign that beneath your perfect suit

Beats a heart that could want me

As much as I want you

He had felt it. Every accidental touch, every brush of your hand, every moment when you stood close enough that he could smell your perfume. He had felt everything and denied it all, retreating into work and duty and the expectations drilled into him since childhood.

The worst entry was the most recent, written just days before your anniversary:

One year of marriage

Three hundred sixty-five nights of lying beside him

Listening to his breathing

Wondering if he's awake

Wondering if he ever thinks of touching me

Of breaking through the invisible wall between us

One year of perfect Mrs. Yang While the woman inside me slowly suffocates

Sometimes I think if I just reached for him once

If I was brave enough to cross that divide

But what if his rejection destroyed the last piece of me

That still believes I'm worthy of being

Wanted.

Jungwon closed the journal, his vision blurred with tears. You had been silently begging for him to reach across the divide while he had been congratulating himself on respecting your independence. The magnitude of his failure crushed him.

He didn't eat that day. Didn't change clothes. Didn't acknowledge the increasingly concerned staff who hovered at the library's periphery. Instead, he immersed himself in your hidden world, learning you through the books you'd loved, the passages you'd marked, the words you'd written when you thought no one would see.

Dawn arrived, but Jungwon had lost all sense of time. The library floor was covered with open books, each one containing fragments of your soul. He had read himself into a state of emotional exhaustion, discovering more and more evidence of your loneliness, your desire, your gradual loss of hope.

A desperate energy seized him. Reading wasn't enough. He needed to act, to change, to create physical evidence of his awakening before you returned—if you returned.

He summoned the head gardener, ignoring the man's shocked expression at his disheveled appearance.

"I need every peony on the estate moved to the front garden," he announced, his voice rough from disuse. "Every single one. From all the gardens, the greenhouse, everywhere."

"Sir, that would be hundreds of plants," the gardener protested. "And the formal design—"

"I don't care about the design," Jungwon interrupted, thinking of a note he'd found beside a picture of a wild garden: Why must everything be so ordered? So perfect? I long for beautiful chaos. "I want them arranged naturally. The way they would grow if they chose their own placement."

"But sir, your mother's landscape plan—"

"Is no longer relevant." Jungwon's eyes flashed with an intensity that made the gardener step back. "The peonies were always her choice, not my wife's. I want a garden that reflects what she loves."

"This will take all day, possibly longer," the gardener warned.

"Then start immediately. And I need something else. The bookshelves from the east parlor—bring them to the east garden. All of them."

The staff exchanged alarmed glances, but Jungwon was beyond caring about their concerns. He continued issuing instructions, driven by the need to transform the mansion—to break the perfect mold that had trapped you both.

"Sir," the butler ventured cautiously when the others had gone to carry out these strange orders, "perhaps you should rest. You haven't slept or eaten—"

"How can I rest?" Jungwon's voice broke with emotion. "Do you know what I've discovered? She's been living here for a year, lonely and unfulfilled, while I congratulated myself on being a proper husband. I've failed her completely."

The butler, who had served the Yang family for decades, had never seen the young master in such a state. "Sir, if I may... it's never too late to change course."

Jungwon looked at him sharply. "Have you seen her? Has she contacted anyone?"

"No, sir. But knowing Madame, she's not one to leave matters unresolved."

With renewed determination, Jungwon returned to the library. He selected dozens of books containing your most revealing notes and had them brought to the east garden. As the shelves were positioned on the grass, he began arranging the books, creating a physical testament to what he'd learned.

The gardeners worked throughout the day, transplanting hundreds of peonies to the front garden in a naturalistic arrangement that would horrify his mother but, he hoped, would speak to you. The once-formal approach to the house transformed into an explosion of your favorite flowers, arranged with the organic randomness of nature rather than the rigid precision of Yang tradition.

By late afternoon, Jungwon had created an outdoor library in the east garden—the private corner of the grounds where you often walked alone. He placed books on the shelves and opened others on the grass around him, creating a circle of revelations.

He had sent the staff away, needing to be alone with the evidence of his awakening. His phone buzzed repeatedly—his father, his mother, business associates all demanding attention. He ignored them all.

Instead, he picked up your poetry journal again, reading and rereading your most vulnerable confessions. The precise handwriting becoming more jagged with emotion. The careful Mrs. Yang breaking through to the woman beneath.

As sunset painted the sky in shades of pink and gold, Jungwon sat amidst the books, surrounded by the fragments of you he'd collected, feeling more alive and more terrified than he had ever been. What if it was too late? What if you had already decided that the year of emotional solitude was too high a price for the Yang name and fortune?

He wouldn't blame you. How could he? He had offered you everything except himself.

Night fell, and still he remained in the garden, under stars you had once described in a margin note as witnesses to all our silent longings. He read your words by the light of lanterns the staff had silently provided, losing himself in the labyrinth of your unspoken desires.

In the faint light, he reread the poem that had started his journey—the one about love lost between what is said and not meant, what is meant and not said. He traced your question mark with his finger, feeling the slight indentation in the paper where you had pressed the pen, perhaps harder than you intended, the physical evidence of your frustration.

"I see you now," he whispered to the empty garden, to the books that held pieces of your soul. "I see you, and I'm terrified it's too late."

The night deepened around him, but Jungwon remained among the books, keeping vigil, waiting, hoping you would come home—and fearing you would not.

-

Five days since you'd left. Five days of freedom from the perfect imprisonment that had become your life. Five days to remember who you were before becoming Mrs. Yang.

On the morning of the sixth day, as you sat on Leah's small balcony with a chipped mug of coffee, your phone lit up with a text from Jungwon's personal assistant.

Mr. Yang has canceled all appointments for the foreseeable future. The household staff reports concerning behavior. If you could contact them, they would be grateful.

You stared at the message, rereading it several times. Jungwon never canceled appointments. Even when he'd had the flu last winter, he'd conducted meetings by video rather than reschedule. His schedule was sacred, immovable.

"What's wrong?" Leah asked, noticing your expression.

You handed her the phone. She read the message and raised her eyebrows.

"Sounds like someone's having a breakdown."

"Jungwon doesn't have breakdowns," you said automatically, then paused. The man you'd confronted before leaving—the one who'd admitted his fear of vulnerability, who'd texted you his feelings rather than say them aloud—perhaps that man did have breakdowns after all.

"Are you going to go check on him?" Leah asked.

You sighed, setting down your coffee. "I have to, don't I? At the very least, I need to get more of my things." You'd left with only a small overnight bag, having no plan beyond escape.

"Want me to come with you?"

"No," you said, more decisively than you felt. "This is something I need to do alone."

As you showered and dressed, you tried to prepare yourself for what awaited. Would Jungwon be coldly angry, his moment of vulnerability already locked away? Would he have summoned his parents, ready for a united front to convince you of your duties? Or would he simply be absent, buried in work as a shield against emotion?

In the rideshare on the way to the mansion, you rehearsed what to say. You would be calm but firm. This wasn't about blame anymore but about whether a real marriage was possible between you. You needed honesty, vulnerability, true partnership—not just the performance of marriage you'd endured for a year.

But as the car approached the gates of the estate, your carefully prepared speech evaporated. The formal gardens that had always greeted visitors with mathematical precision had been transformed. Instead of the orderly rows of seasonal blooms, there was a riot of peonies—your favorite flower—planted in natural, wild groupings that looked almost as if they had grown there spontaneously.

"Wait here," you told the driver. "I may not be staying."

As you walked up the long driveway, your heart hammered against your ribs. The front door opened before you reached it, the butler appearing with an expression of profound relief.

"Madame," he said, bowing slightly. "Thank goodness you've returned."

"I'm not staying necessarily," you clarified, stepping into the foyer. "I just came to—" You stopped, noticing more changes. The formal floral arrangements that always occupied the entryway tables had been replaced with wild, exuberant bouquets of peonies and wildflowers. "What's happening here?"

"Mr. Yang has been... making adjustments to the household," the butler replied diplomatically. "He's in the east garden. He's been there nearly two days now."

Two days? "Is he... is he all right?"

The butler hesitated. "I believe he's waiting for you, Madame."

You made your way through the house, noting more changes as you went. Books that had always been perfectly arranged on shelves now sat in haphazard stacks on tables, many open to specific pages. Your books, you realized, from your private collection.

When you reached the doors leading to the east garden—your favorite part of the grounds, where you often walked alone—you paused, gathering your courage.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you found.

The garden had been transformed into an outdoor library. Bookshelves stood on the grass in a semicircle, filled with books—your books—many open to display specific pages. And in the center, sitting cross-legged on the ground surrounded by open volumes, was Jungwon.

You'd never seen him like this. His usually immaculate appearance was completely undone—hair disheveled, several days' stubble on his jaw, clothes rumpled as if he'd slept in them. He was reading intently from what you recognized as your private poetry journal, his expression a mixture of pain and wonder.

He looked up as your shadow fell across the page, and the naked hope and fear in his eyes made your breath catch.

"You came back," he said, his voice rough as if from disuse.

"What is all this?" you asked, gesturing to the surreal scene around you.

Jungwon carefully closed your journal and set it aside. He rose slowly to his feet, a man moving carefully so as not to shatter something fragile.

"I've been trying to find you," he said. "The real you. The one I should have been looking for all along."

You stepped closer, picking up one of the books from the grass. It was your copy of Neruda's love sonnets, open to a page where you'd scribbled Would he ever touch me like this? in the margin.

Heat rose to your face. "You've been reading my private notes?"

"Yes." Jungwon didn't try to justify or excuse it. "I needed to understand what I'd missed, what I'd ignored. I needed to see you—really see you."

You should have been angry at the invasion of privacy, but something in his broken expression stopped your protest. This wasn't the controlled, perfect Jungwon Yang you'd married. This was someone else entirely—raw, desperate, real.

"Do you have any idea," he continued, taking a step toward you, "how much you've wanted? How much you've needed? All these books, all these words you've underlined, notes you've written—they're full of longing I never acknowledged."

You remained silent, unsure what to say as he moved closer, stopping just short of touching you.

"I found your poem about lying beside me at night, wondering if I was awake, wondering if I ever thought about touching you." His voice broke slightly. "I did. Every night. I lay there wanting you, terrified of reaching for you, convinced that maintaining distance was the same as showing respect."

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he must hear it. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I almost lost you." The simple truth hung in the air between you. "Because I realized that the thing I feared most—vulnerability, need, the possibility of rejection—was nothing compared to the emptiness of letting you walk away without ever knowing how much I want you. How much I've always wanted you."

To your shock, Jungwon suddenly dropped to his knees before you, looking up with eyes that held none of his usual composure.

"I don't deserve another chance," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I've been a coward, hiding behind duty and family expectations. But if you're willing—if there's any part of you that believes we could start again—I swear I will spend every day trying to be worthy of you."

You stood frozen, overwhelmed by his declaration, by the sight of Jungwon Yang—heir to an empire, always in perfect control—on his knees before you, walls finally shattered.

"I want to build a life with you," he continued, the words spilling out as if he couldn't contain them any longer. "A real life, not this performance we've been trapped in. I want mornings where we don't pretend to sleep through each other's routines. I want to hear about your day and tell you about mine. I want to take you to that cove in Greece where no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked."

Your cheeks flamed at the reference to your private note in the travel book.

"I've read every word you've written in the margins," he confessed, his voice dropping lower. "I've memorized your poetry. The ones you circled, the ones you starred. Neruda's words—'I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees'—I understand them now. I feel them in my veins."

His eyes locked with yours, their intensity almost unbearable.

"I dream of you. Of being inside you. Of knowing nothing but the depth of your eyes when you look at me. Of drowning in your skin until my mind forgets every lesson in restraint I've ever learned." His voice shook slightly. "All those nights I lay beside you, rigid with control, while you wrote of desire in book margins—it was never indifference. It was fear. Fear of how completely I would surrender to you if I allowed myself a single touch."

You couldn't breathe, couldn't speak as he continued, years of suppressed desire breaking through the dam of his composure.

"I found where you wrote 'would he ever lose control enough?' The answer is yes. God, yes. Every moment of every day I've wanted to lose myself in you. To press you against walls, to taste every inch of your skin, to hear my name in your voice when I'm buried so deep inside you that we can't tell where I end and you begin."

He trembled visibly now, hands clenched at his sides to keep from reaching for you.

"I want children who know their father can feel, can love," he went on, his voice breaking. "I want to be the man you deserve—not the perfect Yang heir, but a husband who sees you, hears you, wants you exactly as you are."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back. This was what you'd wanted—wasn't it? The real man beneath the perfect facade. But now that he was here, raw and vulnerable, you found yourself terrified of your own power to hurt him, to be hurt again.

"I don't know if I can trust this," you admitted softly. "What happens when your father calls? When your mother visits? When business demands return? Will you retreat back behind those walls you've built over a lifetime?"

Jungwon nodded, acknowledging the fairness of your question. "I already told my father I won't be controlled by his expectations anymore. I hung up on him—" He gave a small, disbelieving laugh. "I actually hung up on him when he tried to order me to bring you back for appearances' sake."

Your eyes widened. In the Yang family hierarchy, defying the patriarch was unthinkable.

"I can't promise I'll never struggle," Jungwon continued. "A lifetime of conditioning doesn't disappear in a week. But I can promise to try. To talk instead of withdraw. To let you see me—all of me, even the parts I was taught to hide." He swallowed hard. "And I can promise that no business meeting, no family obligation, nothing will ever be more important to me than you are."

The morning sunlight filtered through the garden trees, casting dappled light across his face, highlighting the exhaustion in his eyes, the vulnerability in his expression. In that moment, all the trappings of wealth and status fell away, leaving just a man asking a woman for another chance.

"I love you," he said quietly, the words clearly strange on his tongue. "I think I have from the beginning, but I didn't know how to show it, how to say it, how to let myself feel it without fear."

Your carefully constructed walls began to crumble. The honesty in his eyes, the tremor in his voice—this wasn't another performance. This was real in a way nothing between you had been before.

You took a deep breath, making a decision that would change everything.

"Stand up," you said softly.

Jungwon rose slowly, uncertainty in every line of his body. He stood before you, not touching, waiting.

"I need time," you said finally. "Not away from you—I think we've had enough distance. But time here, together, building something real. Day by day. No quick fixes, no grand gestures, just... honest effort."

Relief washed over his face. "Anything. Whatever you need."

You reached out slowly, your hand trembling slightly as you placed it against his cheek. The stubble was rough under your palm—a tangible sign of his unraveling, his transformation.

"We start again," you said. "As equals. As partners. As two people choosing each other every day, not just fulfilling an arrangement."

Jungwon covered your hand with his own, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes," he agreed simply. "That's all I want. The chance to choose you, and to be chosen by you, every day."

You stood there in the garden surrounded by the evidence of his awakening—the books, the wildflowers, the breaking of perfect order that had defined your lives together. Nothing was resolved yet, not really. The real work of building a marriage would take time, patience, courage from both of you.

But as Jungwon's fingers tentatively interlaced with yours, you felt something you hadn't experienced in a very long time: hope.

Not the desperate hope that had led you to mark passages in poetry books, dreaming of connection. But a quieter, stronger hope built on the foundation of truth finally spoken, of walls finally breached.

A beginning, at last, after a year of beautiful emptiness.

-

The transformation didn't happen overnight. Real change never does. But it began with small, deliberate steps—each one a silent promise, a brick in the foundation of what you both hoped would become something genuine and lasting.

The first week was tentative, both of you navigating an unfamiliar landscape of honesty. You moved back into the master bedroom, but Jungwon slept on the chaise lounge across the room, respecting your need for physical space while closing the emotional distance. Each night, you talked—sometimes for hours—about everything and nothing. Your childhoods. Your dreams. The books that had shaped you. The places you longed to visit.

"I never knew you wanted to see Greece so badly," Jungwon said one evening, sitting cross-legged on the chaise, looking younger and more relaxed than you'd ever seen him. "We could go. Whenever you want."

"It's not just about going," you explained, hugging your knees to your chest as you sat against the headboard. "It's about going somewhere simply because we want to, not because it's expected or beneficial to the family business."

He nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "A trip just for us. No schedules, no business meetings disguised as vacations..."

"Exactly."

Two days later, you found a travel guide to the Greek islands on your pillow, with a note in Jungwon's precise handwriting: Pick the places that call to you. No expectations. No time limit. Just us.

-

The second week brought the first real test. Mrs. Yang arrived unannounced, sweeping into the foyer with the authority of someone who had never been denied entry.

"I've heard disturbing reports," she announced, eyeing the wildflower arrangements with thinly veiled distaste. "The garden completely rearranged. Appointments canceled. Your father says you're not taking his calls. And now this..." She gestured to the informality of the house, the books scattered on surfaces, the general disruption of the perfect order she'd helped establish.

In the past, Jungwon would have immediately adjusted his behavior to appease her. You braced yourself for his retreat back into the perfect son role.

Instead, he surprised you.

"Mother," he said calmly, "we're in the middle of some changes here. I should have called to tell you it's not a good time for a visit."

Her eyes widened. "Not a good time? Since when do I need an appointment to visit my own son's home?"

"Since now," Jungwon replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We're working on our marriage, and we need space to do that properly."

Mrs. Yang turned to you, expecting you to be the reasonable one, to smooth over this unprecedented friction. "Surely you understand that family obligations—"

"Are important," you finished for her, "but not more important than our relationship. Jungwon and I are learning to put each other first."

Her mouth opened and closed, momentarily speechless. "This is your influence," she finally said to you, her voice sharp. "My son has never been so disrespectful."

You felt Jungwon tense beside you, but before he could speak, you placed your hand on his arm. A silent communication—I've got this.

"It's not disrespect to establish healthy boundaries," you said, maintaining a respectful tone despite the accusation. "We both value you and Mr. Yang, but we're building something here that needs protection and care."

Mrs. Yang looked between the two of you, noting the united front, the way Jungwon stood slightly closer to you than necessary, the casual intimacy of your hand on his arm. Something in her calculation shifted.

"I see," she said finally. "Well. Call when you're ready to rejoin society. The foundation gala is in three weeks, and people will talk if you're absent."

"Let them talk," Jungwon said simply.

After she left, you turned to Jungwon, studying his face for signs of regret or anger. Instead, you found him looking almost relieved.

"That was the first time I've ever said no to her," he confessed with a shaky laugh. "It feels... terrifying. And right."

You squeezed his hand. "You were perfect."

"Not perfect," he corrected. "Real. There's a difference."

-

By the third week, physical barriers began to dissolve. Jungwon moved from the chaise to the bed, though always maintaining a careful distance. But one night, half-asleep and cold from the air conditioning, you instinctively shifted closer to his warmth. Without fully waking, he draped an arm over you, pulling you against him with a contented sigh.

You froze, suddenly wide awake, your heart racing at the casual intimacy. His breathing remained deep and even, clearly still asleep. Slowly, you relaxed into the embrace, allowing yourself to feel the solidity of him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the warmth that radiated through his thin t-shirt.

It was the first time you'd slept in each other's arms. In the morning, when you both woke to find yourselves entangled, there was a moment of awkward uncertainty before Jungwon smiled—a genuine, unguarded smile that transformed his face.

"Good morning," he said softly, making no move to pull away.

"Good morning," you replied, marveling at how natural it felt to be here, in this moment, with him.

That day, the staff noticed the shift between you—the lingering glances, the casual touches as you passed each other, the private smiles. The mansion seemed to exhale, as if the building itself had been holding its breath, waiting for life to finally fill its rooms.

-

A month after your return, Jungwon came to you with a proposal.

"I've been thinking about the house," he said over breakfast, which you now took together every morning before he left for work. His schedule had been completely reorganized, with strict boundaries between work and home time. "It's beautiful, but it's never felt like ours. It's been my family's vision of what our home should be."

You nodded, understanding immediately. "It's always felt like living in a museum."

"Exactly." He pushed a folder across the table. "What would you think about this?"

Inside were architectural plans for a new house—smaller, more intimate, designed around shared spaces and natural light.

"You want to move?" you asked, surprised.

"I want us to build something that belongs to us," he clarified. "Something that reflects who we are together, not who everyone expects us to be."

You studied the plans more carefully, noting the library with two desks facing each other, the open kitchen designed for cooking together, the master bedroom with windows that would catch the sunrise.

"There's room for a nursery," you observed quietly, looking up to gauge his reaction.

His eyes softened. "I thought... someday... if we decided..." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I want children with you. Not for the Yang legacy, but because I can't imagine anything more beautiful than creating a family with you. But only when we're ready. Only when our foundation is solid."

You reached across the table, taking his hand. "I'd like that. Someday."

He squeezed your fingers, a simple gesture that had become precious in its newfound ease. "So, the house?"

"Yes," you decided. "Let's build something that's truly ours."

-

Two months into your new beginning, you attended your first social event as a changed couple. The charity auction—ironically, the same type of event where you'd played your roles so convincingly before—now became the stage for your authentic selves.

When you entered on Jungwon's arm, the subtle changes were immediately apparent to the careful observers of high society. The way his hand rested at the small of your back—not for show, but because he liked the connection to you. How he kept you within his sight even during separate conversations. The private smiles you exchanged across the room, small moments of complicity in the public setting.

Mrs. Singh approached you during a lull in the evening. "There's something different about you two," she observed shrewdly. "You seem... happier."

You smiled, watching Jungwon across the room. He was engaged in conversation but looked up at that exact moment, as if sensing your gaze, and smiled back with undisguised affection.

"We are," you replied simply.

Later, when the dancing began, Jungwon led you to the floor. Unlike the choreographed movements you'd performed at countless events before, this time he held you closer, his cheek occasionally brushing against your temple, his hand warm and secure against yours.

"Everyone's watching us," you murmured, feeling the weight of curious eyes.

"Let them," he replied, his lips close to your ear. "Maybe they'll learn something."

The evening continued, but unlike before, you weren't simply playing a part. The genuine connection between you was unmistakable, and as the night progressed, you felt something shift in the atmosphere around you. The calculated social maneuvering gave way to something more genuine, as if your authenticity had granted others permission to drop their own facades, if only slightly.

When you returned home that night, the tension that had always accompanied these performances was absent. Instead, there was a shared sense of accomplishment, of having navigated the social waters together without losing yourselves in the process.

"That wasn't so bad," Jungwon admitted as you both prepared for bed. "Being real in public."

"It was actually nice," you agreed, sitting at your vanity to remove your jewelry. "Though I think your mother nearly fainted when you declined the board seat Mr. Lee offered."

Jungwon laughed, the sound still new enough to delight you. "The old me would have accepted immediately, even though we both know it would have meant even less time at home." He moved behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "I have different priorities now."

He reached for the clasp of your necklace, his fingers brushing against your skin as he helped you remove it. The simple intimacy of the gesture—one that might have seemed ordinary in most marriages but was revolutionary in yours—made your breath catch.

When he finished, his hands remained on your shoulders, thumbs gently caressing the exposed skin above your dress. Your eyes met in the mirror, and the desire you saw there—no longer hidden or denied—sent heat cascading through you.

"May I kiss you?" he asked softly.

It wasn't your first kiss since the reconciliation—there had been gentle pecks, cautious explorations—but something about this moment felt different. More significant.

You turned to face him, rising from the vanity bench. "Yes."

He cupped your face with reverent hands, studying you as if committing every detail to memory, before leaning in slowly. The kiss began gentle but deepened as months of carefully banked desire kindled between you. His arms encircled your waist, drawing you closer until you could feel the rapid beating of his heart against yours.

When you finally separated, both breathless, Jungwon rested his forehead against yours. "I love you," he whispered, the words no longer strange or difficult but natural, necessary.

"I love you too," you replied, the truth of it filling every part of you.

That night, for the first time, you truly became husband and wife—not through social obligation or family expectation, but through choice. Through desire. Through love that had fought its way past barriers of conditioning and fear to find expression at last.

-

Six months after your confrontation, the new house was completed. It stood on a hillside overlooking the city, modern in design but warm in execution, with natural materials and spaces designed for living rather than showcasing wealth.

The move was symbolic in more ways than one—leaving behind the mansion with its rigid expectations and cold perfection, stepping into a home created specifically for the life you were building together.

On your first night there, after the movers had gone and the essentials were unpacked, Jungwon opened a bottle of champagne, pouring two glasses as you both stood in the expansive living room, floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city lights spread below.

"To new beginnings," he said, raising his glass.

"To us," you added, clinking your glass against his.

After you both drank, he set his glass aside and reached for your hand, his expression turning serious.

"I want to ask you something," he said, leading you to the sofa. When you were both seated, he took both your hands in his. "This past year—these six months especially—have been the most transformative of my life. I feel like I'm finally becoming the person I was meant to be, not the perfect heir my father designed."

You squeezed his hands encouragingly. "I'm proud of you. The changes you've made, the boundaries you've set—none of it has been easy."

"It's been worth it," he said simply. "And I want to keep growing, keep becoming better. With you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. "Which is why I want to ask you to marry me. Again. For real this time."

He opened the box to reveal a ring nothing like the elaborate diamond he'd given you during your engagement. This one was simpler, more personal—a band of intertwined gold and platinum with a small sapphire that matched the color of your favorite flowers.

"Our first marriage was arranged for us," he continued. "I want this one to be chosen by us. No families planning, no strategic alliances, just two people who love each other deciding to build a life together."

Tears filled your eyes, but unlike the lonely tears you'd shed in that first year, these were born of joy, of wonder at how far you'd both come.

"Yes," you whispered, watching as he slipped the ring onto your finger, alongside the formal engagement diamond you still wore. The contrast between them—one chosen for appearance, one chosen for meaning—perfectly symbolized your journey.

"I thought we could have a small ceremony," Jungwon said, pulling you close. "Just us and a few people who truly care about our happiness. On that Greek island you've been reading about."

You laughed through your tears. "Your mother would never forgive us."

"She'll survive," he said with a smile. "This isn't about the Yang family or social connections or business advantages. It's about you and me, choosing each other. Every day. For the rest of our lives."

As you kissed to seal this new promise, you marveled at the journey that had brought you here—from empty performance to authentic partnership, from silent longing to expressed love, from arranged marriage to chosen commitment.

The road hadn't been smooth. There had been setbacks, moments when old patterns threatened to reassert themselves. There would be more challenges ahead, more work to maintain the vulnerability and honesty you'd fought so hard to establish.

But looking into Jungwon's eyes—eyes that now held nothing back from you—you knew with absolute certainty that the difficult path was worth it. That true connection, once found, was worth fighting for. That love, real love, could grow even from the most barren beginnings, if only given the chance to breathe.

-

The most shocking transformation in your renewed marriage wasn’t the tenderness.

It was the hunger.

Jungwon, who used to sleep with a polite space between your bodies, now touched you like he couldn’t bear even a millimeter of distance.

The man who once bowed his head before kissing your hand now dropped to his knees and begged to taste you.

It was as if years of restraint had finally snapped—like some tight, internal knot had come undone—and he was feral from the release.

The first night you truly became intimate, you realized just how much he’d been suppressing.

His hands, once always tucked in his lap, now gripped your thighs like a lifeline, dragged you down onto the sheets with a growl. He shook when he touched you, but not from nerves—from sheer fucking relief.

His mouth, which had always only spoken in formal tones and quiet dinner conversation, now whispered against your skin—

“I’ve dreamed of spreading your legs and living between them.”

You gasped. He kissed lower. His breath hot between your thighs.

“Every night beside you, pretending I didn’t hear how you breathed heavier when I got too close. I wanted to fuck you so bad I used to take cold showers just to stop myself from humping the fucking mattress.”

You were already soaked, trembling.

You cupped his face, forced him to look up. “You don’t have to hold back anymore.”

His pupils were blown wide. He licked his lips, nodding.

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

He broke.

He devoured your pussy like it owed him rent. Like it was his first and last meal.

No teasing. No patience. Just his tongue, buried deep, moaning into you like your taste was the only thing that ever made him lose his composure.

You came once on his mouth—fast and loud—and he didn’t even let up.

“Again,” he groaned, “fuck, again, I want to feel you fall apart.”

And when he finally hovered over you, flushed and trembling and naked between your legs?

“Tell me,” he whispered, cock dragging through your soaked folds, “tell me what you want. What you’ve been aching for. Let me ruin you the way I’ve dreamed about.”

So you did.

You told him all of it. The fantasies. The positions. The filthy little things you’d only ever written down in notebook margins when he was still cold and distant.

And Jungwon?

Did. Not. Flinch.

He nodded, breath shaking, and said—

“You want to be face down? Crying? Begging? I’ll give it to you. Just know when I start, I won’t stop until you’re fucked stupid.”

And he meant it.

He took you face down on the mattress, hips locked in place by his grip, his cock slamming into you so deep you saw stars. He growled things you’d never imagined him saying—

“This pussy’s mine. All fucking mine. You think I don’t know how wet you get when I talk like this?”

“Look at you—slutty little wife, dripping down your thighs like you’ve been waiting to be treated like a whore.”

“How many times you make yourself cum thinking about me breaking like this, huh?”

You choked on your moans. You were sobbing by the time he made you cum again, legs shaking, jaw slack, vision blurry.

He kissed your spine afterward. Slowly. Tenderly. Like he hadn’t just rearranged your insides.

Pulled you into his arms and whispered, “I used to leave the room when I got too hard just looking at you. I thought wanting you like this made me weak. My father always said a Yang man should control his urges.”

He paused. Smiled against your neck.

“I’ve never been so happy to disappoint him.”

-

In the weeks that followed your first night together, the shift between you became impossible to ignore. And impossible to contain.

Jungwon couldn’t stop touching you.

He didn’t even try. His hand found yours under the breakfast table.

His palm slid across your lower back when you walked past him in the hallway—lingering there, possessive.

He stole kisses while you were brushing your teeth, while you answered the door, while you loaded the washing machine.

It was as if his body was always reaching, always chasing, making up for a year of self-denial all at once.

You gave in to him every time.

One afternoon, he came home early from the office to find you kneeling in the garden, soil smudged on your knees, digging holes for the last peony bush you’d saved from the mansion.

You didn’t hear him approach.

But you felt it—the change in the air. The heat behind you. The sound of breath catching.

Hands on your waist. A sharp inhale. And a low, devastating voice.

“That’s what I come home to?”

You turned your head, startled—and then flushed under the weight of his gaze.

He was already unbuttoning his sleeves.

Already breathing too hard.

“Jungwon—”

He hauled you to your feet. Didn’t flinch at the dirt. Didn’t care about the sunlight.

Just gripped your waist, pulled you close, and kissed you like you’d been killing him in his dreams. You gasped against his mouth, hands braced on his chest, heart pounding.

“What was that for?”

His eyes were black with need. He didn’t let you go.

“Because I can,” he said. “Because I spent a year not touching you. Not letting myself want you. Not letting myself want to bend you over every surface in our house.”

You trembled.

He pulled you closer.

“I refuse to waste another fucking day.”

The peonies were forgotten.

He dragged you inside, dirt on your hands, sweat beading on your spine—and kissed you again against the door.

His jacket hit the floor first. Then yours.

Then his belt, as he backed you into the living room like a man possessed.

When your knees hit the rug, he dropped with you.

Didn’t even bother removing your clothes properly—just shoved your dress up and pulled your underwear down like it offended him.

“Here,” he growled, palming your ass as he pressed you forward onto all fours. “Here on the floor, where I can see every inch of you. Where I can fuck you raw and you can scream for me.”

You moaned, breath hitched.

“God, I wanted to do this the first night I married you. I wanted to wreck you. I wanted to see what sounds you’d make with my cock in you.”

You were dripping by the time he pushed inside.

No teasing. No patience. Just one smooth thrust that made you cry out, already clenching.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed. “So wet and hot and mine.”

He fucked you hard, fast, hips slapping against your ass as your moans echoed through the empty house.

You didn’t care. You let him take everything.

He gripped your hips, pulled you back onto him harder, chasing your high like he’d been dying for it. You came shaking on him, and he groaned, low and broken, before following with a curse buried into your shoulder.

You collapsed to the rug in a tangled heap, both of you breathless, glowing in the afternoon sun. Later, still half-naked, your cheek resting on the rug, he lay beside you—head on your stomach, smiling like a teenager.

“My father would be appalled,” he murmured. “The Yang heir behaving like this. Desperate. Loud. Fucking his wife on the floor.”

You laughed, running your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“And what do you think?”

He tilted his head. Kissed your bare hip, then lower.

Then smiled.

“I think we should do it again in the kitchen.”

A pause.

“Then the stairs. Then the study. Then maybe the floor again.”

You didn’t even get a chance to answer. Because his hand was already sliding between your legs again.

-

What amazed you most was his attentiveness. Jungwon, who had once seemed completely disconnected from physical needs, now anticipated yours with an almost uncanny perception. He noticed when tension gathered in your shoulders and appeared with warm hands to massage it away. He registered which touches made your breath catch and revisited them with deliberate intent. He cataloged every sensitive spot, every preference, every response with the same meticulous attention he'd once reserved for business reports.

"How did you know?" you asked one evening when he drew you a bath exactly when you needed it, complete with the lavender oil you preferred when tired.

"Your left eyebrow tenses slightly when you're exhausted," he explained, kneeling beside the tub to wash your back with gentle hands. "And you roll your shoulders every few minutes. Plus, you've been on your feet all day with the interior decorator."

The fact that he noticed such small details—that he paid such close attention to your physical comfort—moved you deeply. This wasn't just passion; it was care, consideration, genuine desire for your wellbeing.

One night, as you lay tangled together in the afterglow of particularly intense lovemaking, Jungwon traced patterns on your back with his fingertips, his expression thoughtful.

"I used to think that needing someone physically was a weakness," he confessed. "That it gave them power over you. My father warned me about it—how desire could cloud judgment, make a man vulnerable."

"And now?" you prompted, propping yourself up to look at him.

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features in a way that still took your breath away. "Now I think vulnerability is its own kind of strength. The courage to need someone, to show them exactly how much you want them..." He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I've never felt stronger than when I'm completely undone in your arms."

-

The physical transformation in your marriage rippled outward, affecting every aspect of your lives together. Jungwon, once rigid in his schedules and plans, now embraced spontaneity. He would cancel meetings to spend the day in bed with you, laughing as you expressed shock at his newfound willingness to prioritize pleasure over work.

"The company won't collapse if I take a day off," he said, pulling you back under the covers when you suggested he shouldn't neglect his responsibilities. "And this—" he kissed you deeply "—is a responsibility too. To us. To what we're building."

Even in public, the change was evident to anyone with eyes to see. Though still mindful of appropriate boundaries, Jungwon couldn't seem to stop himself from small touches—his hand at the small of your back, his fingers laced with yours, the way he would occasionally lean down to whisper something in your ear that made heat rise to your cheeks.

At a corporate gala, Mrs. Yang cornered you by the refreshment table, her eyes narrowed in disapproval. "Your husband's behavior has become rather... demonstrative lately," she observed acidly. "It's unseemly for a man of his position to be so openly affectionate."

You smiled, watching Jungwon across the room as he spoke with investors. Even engaged in business conversation, his eyes sought you out regularly, as if making sure you were still there, still his.

"I disagree," you replied calmly. "I think it shows remarkable strength for a man to be secure enough in himself to express his feelings openly."

Your mother-in-law's lips thinned, but before she could respond, Jungwon appeared at your side, his hand automatically finding yours.

"Mother," he greeted her with polite warmth. "I see you've found my wife. I hope you'll excuse us—this is our song."

There was no song playing that held any special meaning, but Mrs. Yang couldn't know that. With a small bow, Jungwon led you to the dance floor, pulling you closer than was strictly proper for such a formal event.

"Rescued you," he murmured against your ear, his breath sending delicious shivers down your spine.

"My hero," you teased, relaxing into his embrace. "Though your mother might never recover from the shock of seeing the Yang heir so besotted with his own wife."

"Let her adjust," he replied, his hand splayed possessively against your lower back. "This is who I am now. Who we are together."

Later that night, he touched you like he’d been holding it in all day—like the hours of careful, public restraint had coiled inside him, pressing tight under his skin, begging for release.

Now, with you spread beneath him in your shared bed, every breath he took seemed heavy with need.

His thrusts were deep, deliberate, dragging moans from your throat with each slow roll of his hips.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t look away. He studied you.

His dark eyes locked onto yours, watching every flicker of expression, every twitch, every gasp, like he wanted to memorize the exact second you shattered.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, voice low, tight, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

You blinked up at him, dazed, overwhelmed. “That I hardly recognize you sometimes.”

His rhythm stuttered—hips faltering, jaw tensing.

His brows drew together. “Is that… disappointing?”

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and pulled him closer, arching up to meet him.

“No. Quite the opposite.”

Your fingers slid into his hair, your voice thick with wonder and arousal.

“I’m amazed that all of this—”

Your hands trailed down his chest, to where your bodies met, to the heat and slick and stretch between your legs,

“—was hidden inside that perfect, restrained man.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a crooked, mischievous smile—so at odds with the version of him you’d once known that it sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.

“I have years of self-control to make up for,” he said, lowering his mouth to your throat, his voice a warm rasp against your skin. “You don’t think I’ve imagined this? Every night. Every day. Watching you walk around like you didn’t know how badly I wanted to fuck you into the mattress?”

You whimpered, breath catching.

“You think I didn’t notice how soft your thighs looked in those dresses? Or how your voice changed when you said my name?”

His tongue flicked over a sensitive spot just below your ear, and your back arched without thinking.

“I used to jerk off in the shower,” he whispered, filthy now, “biting my lip so you wouldn’t hear. Palming my cock like a coward while I imagined you moaning for me just like this.”

You gasped as he pinned your wrists above your head, not rough, just firm—controlling, possessive. His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers circling your clit with devastating precision.

“You’re mine now,” he said against your collarbone. “I don’t have to hide it anymore. Don’t have to pretend I don’t want you crying and shaking under me every night.”

The need in his voice made your toes curl.

“I don’t think anyone could be prepared for this version of you,” you managed to gasp, hips bucking as his thumb pressed harder.

He chuckled darkly. “Good. I like catching you off guard.”

Then his lips ghosted over your pulse, and he murmured:

“I like knowing no one else gets to see you like this. Just me. The mess. The begging. The way you moan when I hit you right there.”

His hips snapped, and your whole body trembled.

“I like owning this version of you. The version that melts under me. That asks for more even when I’m already inside.”

The sheer possessiveness in his voice—raw and reverent—nearly undid you.

Your whole body clenched, eyes wide, breath gone. “Only you,” you whispered, completely wrecked. “Always you.”

He kissed you then. Deep. Unrelenting.

And when you came again, shaking apart in his arms, you knew:

You’d never seen the real Jungwon before this.

Afterward, as you drifted toward sleep in his arms, you reflected on the journey that had brought you here. From polite strangers sharing a bed without touching, to lovers who couldn't bear even the smallest distance between them. From a marriage of appearance to a union of body, heart, and soul.

Jungwon's arm tightened around you, even in his sleep unwilling to let you go. The man who had once feared needing someone now embraced that need without reservation, transforming what he'd been taught was weakness into his greatest strength.

As you snuggled closer to his warmth, you silently thanked whatever courage had prompted you to finally break the silence between you, to demand more than the empty performance your marriage had been. The risk had been terrifying, but the reward—this man who loved you without restraint, who showed that love in every look and touch and whispered word—was beyond anything you could have imagined.

Epilogue: Aegean Dreams

The light breeze carried the scent of salt and wild herbs through the open French doors of your villa, perched on the cliffs of Santorini. Dawn had just begun to paint the horizon in shades of gold and rose, the Aegean Sea below reflecting the spectacle like a mirror. You stood on the private terrace, wrapped in a silk robe, drinking in the view that had once been nothing more than a wistful note in a travel book margin.

Warm arms encircled you from behind, and Jungwon's lips found the curve where your neck met your shoulder.

"I woke up and you were gone," he murmured against your skin. "For a second, I panicked."

You turned in his embrace, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. No product kept it in place here—just like no tailored suits or carefully crafted personas had made the journey to this small Greek paradise.

"Just wanted to see the sunrise," you explained, smiling at the vulnerability he no longer tried to hide. "Old habits. Though I'm not used to you noticing when I slip out of bed."

"I notice everything about you now," he said, tightening his hold. "Especially when your warmth disappears from beside me."

Two years had passed since that fateful anniversary night when everything had broken open between you. Two years of learning each other, rebuilding trust, discovering what it meant to truly choose one another every day. The small, intimate wedding you'd held on this very island six months ago had merely formalized what your hearts had already decided.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jungwon asked, noticing your contemplative expression.

"I was just thinking about that travel book," you said, leaning into him. "The one where I marked all those Greek islands, never believing I'd actually see them."

"And now you've seen five of them in three weeks," he replied with a smile. "With three more to go before we have to think about heading back."

The itinerary for this trip had been deliberately open-ended—a luxury neither of you had ever permitted yourselves before. No business calls, no social obligations, not even a fixed return date. Just the two of you moving at your own pace through the islands you'd dreamed of.

"Remember that cove I mentioned in my notes?" you asked, a mischievous glint in your eye. "The one where 'no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked'?"

"How could I forget?" Jungwon's voice dropped lower, his hands sliding down to your waist. "It's circled on the map in our bedroom. I've been wondering when you'd bring it up."

"The boat captain said he could take us there this afternoon. Completely private, accessible only by sea."

His eyes darkened with desire—a look that still thrilled you, even after months of uninhibited passion. "I'll tell him we'll double his fee if he drops us off and doesn't return until sunset."

You laughed, stretching up to kiss him. "Always the efficient businessman."

"Only when efficiency serves pleasure," he countered, deepening the kiss until you were both breathless.

When you finally pulled apart, the sun had fully crested the horizon, bathing the white-washed villa in golden light. Jungwon led you to the small table on the terrace where he'd already set up breakfast—fresh fruit, local yogurt, honey, and coffee prepared exactly the way you liked it.

"I have something for you," he said, reaching into the pocket of his linen pants as you both sat down.

He placed a small package wrapped in simple brown paper on the table between you. His expression held an endearing mix of anticipation and nervousness that reminded you how far he'd come from the controlled, emotionless man you'd married.

"What's this for?" you asked, picking up the package. "It's not my birthday or our anniversary."

"Do I need a reason to give my wife a gift?" he countered with a smile. "Open it."

You carefully unwrapped the paper to find a leather-bound journal, its cover soft and supple. When you opened it, you discovered it was filled with poems—some typed, others handwritten in Jungwon's precise script.

"I've been collecting them," he explained, watching your face closely. "Every poem that made me think of you. The ones that helped me understand what I was feeling when I didn't have the words myself."

You turned the pages, eyes widening as you recognized some of the poems you'd once secretly marked in your books, now preserved in this new collection. But there were others you didn't recognize—contemporary pieces, older classics, even what appeared to be original works.

"Did you... write some of these?" you asked, looking up in surprise.

A flush crept up his neck—the unguarded reaction still so different from the controlled man he'd once been. "I tried. They're probably terrible, but..." He shrugged, a gesture of vulnerability that would have been unthinkable in the old Jungwon. "I wanted to find a way to tell you what you mean to me that wasn't borrowed from someone else's words."

You found one of his original poems, dated from the early days of your reconciliation:

I lived behind walls so high

Even I forgot what lay inside

Until your voice broke through

And light flooded places

I had kept dark for so long

I had forgotten they could shine

Tears pricked your eyes as you continued reading. The progression of the poems—from hesitant early attempts to more recent, confident expressions—mirrored the journey of your relationship.

"This is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me," you said finally, closing the journal and holding it against your heart.

"There's one more thing," Jungwon said, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I've been thinking about what you said last week, about not being ready to go back to real life yet."

"I was just being silly," you assured him, though the thought of returning to schedules and obligations did fill you with a certain dread. "We can't stay on vacation forever."

"Why not?" He smiled at your startled expression. "Not forever, but... longer. I've been working on something." He pulled out his phone—rarely used during the trip except for taking photos—and showed you a property listing. "It's a small villa on Paros. Nothing extravagant, but it has a garden for you and a study for me with a decent internet connection."

"You want to buy a house here?" you asked, stunned.

"I want us to have a place that's just ours. Not tied to the Yang name or business or social expectations." His eyes held yours, serious despite his smile. "A place where we can come whenever we need to breathe. Where no one expects anything from us except being ourselves."

"But your work—"

"Can be managed remotely for extended periods," he interrupted gently. "I've been talking with the board about restructuring my role. Less day-to-day management, more strategic direction. It would mean fewer hours, more flexibility."

You stared at him, processing the magnitude of what he was suggesting. The old Jungwon would never have considered stepping back from his corporate responsibilities, would never have prioritized personal happiness over professional ambition.

"What about your father?" you asked, knowing that Mr. Yang would view such a move as a betrayal of family duty.

"He'll adapt," Jungwon said with surprising calm. "Or he won't. Either way, I'm not living my life to meet his expectations anymore." He squeezed your hand. "What do you think? Not about him—about the villa."

You looked out at the endless blue of the Aegean, then back at the man who had transformed himself for love of you—who continued to transform, to grow, to choose your shared happiness over prescribed obligation.

"I think," you said slowly, a smile spreading across your face, "that I'd like to plant bougainvillea along that terrace wall in the photos."

His answering smile was radiant. "Is that a yes?"

Instead of answering with words, you stood and moved around the table, settling onto his lap. His arms came around you automatically, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in his world—which, you knew now, you were.

"It's a 'you make me happier than I ever thought possible,'" you said, framing his face with your hands. "It's a 'I love the life we're building together.'"

"Even if it scandalizes my mother?" he asked, laughter in his eyes.

"Especially then," you replied, leaning in to kiss him as the Greek sun climbed higher in the sky, warming your skin, illuminating the future stretching before you—unplanned, unprescribed, and gloriously your own.

Behind you, the pages of the poetry journal fluttered in the sea breeze, open to the last entry, written in Jungwon's hand just days before:

Once I thought perfection meant control

Now I know it's the moment you laugh

Head thrown back, eyes dancing

Completely unguarded in my arms

The sound of your happiness echoing

Through rooms once filled with silence

This is the music I want to hear

For all my remaining days

fin.

-

TL: @addictedtohobi @azzy02 @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @zzhengyu @somuchdard @annybah @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist

[itsactuallylina]

FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT ☆ YJW

SYNOPSIS: falling for your best friend's cousin was never the plan, but as you and jungwon grow closer, keeping secrets gets harder. Especially when minju starts to notice!

PAIRING: best friend’s cousin!jungwon x f!reader

GENRE: fluff, angst(most of it), flirty jungwon, high school au, love at first sight kinda, mention of panic attacks , A LOT of angst, pov switching, intended lowercase, possible mistakes

FEATURING: enhypen sunoo, illit minju, zb1 gyuvin, kiof belle , bnd taesan

WORD COUNT: 12.8k (ik it’s crazy)

A/N:lol 😝 this is a revamp (?) of my old ass smau which has like 2 chapters LMAO. i was thinking about writing it as a long fic for like a year and finally did it! first long fic too bruh. pls lmk if u like it 🥹 also english is not my first NOR my second language 😭 so sorry if there are any mistakes ; tagging @miumura

check out the masterlist —> here !

“minju, where are we going now?” — you whine, not wanting to walk again, you were pretty sure that you already had over 15 thousand steps today, and yet, minju has another place she suddenly wants to go. “i am tired”

“you’re always tired” she claims, staring into your eyes. “you’ll like it, I promise”

you groan, tilting your head back. “every time you said this, I end up regretting it later”

“excuse me?” minju says baffled, “did you regret the arcade? the rooftop picnic? the train to nowhere?”

“…okay, those were fun,” you admit, narrowing your eyes. “but i’m still tired”

she grins, already tugging your wrist. “it will be quick, just a few pictures. i’ll even let you pick the filters!”you sigh, following her. “fine fine, but if I look half-asleep in them, thats your fault”

“deal!”

you knew that you would give in, you love minju. she is your best friend after all.

the photobooth minju suggested to go to was located in the popular arcade, the one you went to that one time. as you walk in, the neon glow of the arcade flickers above you, minju is already almost at the booth area, you quickly catch up with her, escaping the air filled with buttered popcorn and soda scents. you’re mid laugh, looking at the ridiculous stickers displayed at the entrance when—

thud.

you barely register the warmth of another person before you stumble back, almost falling off your feet.

and then you look up.

wow.

you almost forgot how to breathe.

he is gorgeous. the guy standing in front of you is tall, hands stuffed in pockets.

for a second, his gaze locks onto yours—in this mere moment you notice his boba eyes, lightly curled hair and his catlike features.

you realized you probably looked like a creep, so you break off the eye contact.

“y/n, are you alright? you almost fell down” minju took a hold of your hand, worry visible on her face, before it disappeared as she looks in the way of the person you bumped into.

your best friend scoffs. “ugh, seriously? again?”

again? your brows knit together as you glance between them.

that guy chuckled, his gaze locked on you again. “I’m happy to see you too. didn’t know you had such a pretty friend.” he says with utmost confidence. you can feel the warmth appearing on your cheeks at his compliment, trying to avert your eyes somewhere else.

“oh my god, can you not?” minju sighs dramatically, you never knew she could be so annoyed at sight of someone. huh, guess there is a side of her you don’t know of.

“what? you won’t even introduce us?” he smirks, not looking away from you.

“fine, jungwon this is y/n, y/n this is jungwon, my cousin.” a nth dramatic sigh escaped from her.

so he is minjus cousin…

“nice to meet you, y/n” he says, extending his hand for you to shake, your name rolling off his tongue the way you never thought you would hear.

“uh, yea, nice to meet you too” you stutter, mentally slapping yourself for it. that’s what you say? seriously ?

“you’re really cute, you know?” jungwon suddenly said, you still didn’t calm down from the previous compliment and he throws another one at you?

the blush on your face only deepens, making you look like a tomato. gosh, so embarrassing…

“sorry, but she’s off limits to you, don’t try.” minju remarks before you could even respond.

“off limits, huh. that’s a shame” her cousin replies. “oh well, we can still be friends, right y/n?”

mention of your name makes you jolt, and before you could even think, you agree. “Of course! Yea, we can be friends, no problem”

“y/n?! whatever, just don’t cross any boundaries” ou, maybe you shouldnt have said that.

minju grabs your wrist, pulling you towards the booth. “you can ignore him if you want to”

you let yourself be dragged away, but as you step in the photo booth you make a mistake of looking back.

jungwon is watching you, a smug grin on his face, like his cousins words don’t mean a thing to him.

If only you knew that it was just a beginning.

since it was a little holiday break before the school starts, you decided to visit your favorite record shop to finally buy a vinyl from your favorite group, arctic monkeys.

walking in, you feel the warmth of the cozy atmosphere. the record shop is filled with a quiet melody, which you recognize but can’t put a name on. the air is thick with the scent of old vinyls, worn leather, and a faint trace of coffee coming from the counter. your fingers skim over the albums on display, the rough texture of cardboard meeting your skin. the lighting is dim and golden. it was a place where time slows down. you loved it.

when you find the needed section, you scan the variety, thinking which vinyl you should get. your eyes stop at the familiar black cover with a white sound wave—AM, one of your favorite albums of all time. weird how you never got it, since your first choice song, fluorescent adolescent, is on it.

your hand extends towards the album, and as you almost take it, it disappears from your sight. you firmly turn, hand still in mid-air, eyes locked onto the thief who dared to snatch your treasured almost-purchase. and then—you freeze.

yang jungwon.

the same guy who shamelessly flirted with you back at the arcade, minju’s cousin. but now, the smirk he had the first time you met is nowhere to be found, replaced by an expression that you can’t quite read.

“jungwon?” your own voice comes out before you can even think. maybe you should get that checked out.

he blinks, then lets out a small laugh that gives away his disbelief. “huh, didn’t think that i’d run into you again.”

your gaze flickers to the album he still holds in his hands. “didn’t think you’d steal my vinyl either, but here we are.”

“steal? didn’t see your name on it.” the smugness you remember makes its way back onto his face.

“i literally was about to grab it,” you huff, crossing your arms.

jungwon tilts his head, examining the record while considering something, at least from the looks of it. “you have good taste, but i’m not sure if i should be impressed or offended that your first arctic monkeys vinyl wasn’t this one.”

“i didn’t really ask for your judgment,” you say, rolling your eyes.

he grins, offering the album back to you, but as you were about to take it, he pulls it back. “how about this?” he muses, eyes shining. “i’ll let you have this if you… beat me in a game at the arcade. let’s keep it fair and simple.”

your brows shoot up. “you can’t be serious.”

he shrugs his shoulders. “oh, but i am. you win—you get your precious AM album. and if i win?” he slightly leans in, just enough to make your heart do something stupid. “you take me out for coffee.”

you can sense heat creeping up your neck as he goes back to his original position. “that sounds more like a win-win for you, though.”

“exactly.”

you narrow your eyes at him, pretending to think about your options. jungwon watches you with amusement, twirling the vinyl between his fingers. finally, you sigh. “alright, lead the way.”

his smirk widens as he gestures towards the door with an exaggerated bow. “after you, my lady.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide the flutter the silly nickname gave you. feeling his presence behind you, you go through the aisles of the store. the dim light fades into the neon gleam of the arcade across the street. the distant sound of buttons and clicking fills the air, instantly reminding you of the last time you were here.

but before you can dwell on it any longer, jungwon steps beside you. “hope you’re ready, because i won’t go easy.”

you glance up at him. “never expected you to.”

maybe you should have been a little bit less of a nerd and agreed to gyuvin’s and taesan’s offer to go to the arcade.

you’re losing horribly. you did not expect jungwon to be this good at the games.

it all started with the air hockey—you were in the lead for the first few minutes before jungwon suddenly interrupted your scoring streak and literally humbled you. was it karma for being too confident?

then came the basketball shootout. jungwon scored three points out of five effortlessly. “i’m not going easy this time,” he teased.

“you said that six times already,” you muttered, focusing on the game before you, remembering the basketball lessons you attended in middle school.

your first shot bounced off the rim, making jungwon’s smile wider. “what’s wrong? scared?”

you ignored him, concentrated again, and—swish. the next shot was clean. then the next one. and the next one. and also the last one.

jungwon’s confidence wavered as you scored four points. you won.

he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “you got lucky.”

you grinned. “sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” it was finally your turn to tease him.

now, the dance dance revolution is happening. the glow of the DDR machine flickered as the game loaded. the platform beneath you slightly vibrated, metal panels cool under your shoes.

as soon as the game started, the arrows flooded the screen. the music played through the speakers, matching your moves. jungwon was beside you, moving effortlessly, barely missing a step.

you, on the other hand, weren’t so careful. your movements were a little frantic, messy, but fun. laughter bubbled up between breaths as you nearly tripped on a tricky move.

“is that all you got?” jungwon teased.

“just wait,” you huffed, eyes locking onto the screen.

the song sped up, so did both of you.

your movements became more precise, matching the beat. the combo is unbelievably high right now, and everything seemed good.

until it didn’t.

you can feel yourself slipping because of the slick material of your shoes. already prepared for the impact, you’re expecting the pain, squeezing your eyes shut—

but instead, you feel warmth engulfing your hand and bringing you back up.

“careful now, it’s still not the end,” jungwon says while holding your hand and continuing to dance.

you, having no choice, but to carry on with your movements, but now, with intertwined fingers with the guy beside you.

laughter filled the air as the music started to fade away before it completely stopped and the game started to count your scores.

you, still breathless, still holding hands with jungwon, look at the screen.

87.

you feel proud, but you quickly glance at the screen next to yours, and it says the exact same thing.

you look at each other’s eyes before bursting into chuckles again.

“so it’s a tie?” he asks, turning to you.

“i guess so,” you reply, chuckling a little bit.

“alright then,” jungwon says while tilting his head towards the exit. “we both get what we want.”

you nod, still catching your breath. “right. first things first—my album.”

“lead the way.”

as you both made your way back to the record shop, the warm scent of vinyls and coffee filled the air again. scanning the shelves, you grab the desired AM album before jungwon could.

he just laughed. “happy now?”

“very.” you grinned, already going to check out.

when you paid for the vinyl, you find a phone right before you.

“put your number in. you promised me a coffee, remember?” he reminded you.

for a second, you hesitated, remembering minju’s words.

“come on, we had a deal.” a little pout appeared on his face, making you chuckle.

“alright, alright.” you take the phone from him and enter your number before giving it back. you feel your own phone vibrate in your back pocket.

“just making sure it’s real.”

“do i look like someone who gives fake numbers?” you scoffed.

“not really. more like someone who’d block me instead.” jungwon hummed.

you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, he was already heading toward the exit. “i’ll text you. be ready.”

and with that, you were left alone near the checkout station of your favorite record shop, with the number of a really handsome guy who was off-limits.

the break ended, and you were back at school. the bell rang, signaling the start of lunch. you packed your bag and headed toward the cafeteria to meet up with your friends. when you arrived, you could see your friend group sitting at your usual table.

“hey, everyone.” you greet them, sitting near belle. you unpack your lunch, listening to the conversation flowing around you. belle was excitedly talking about some new drama she started, while minju scrolled through her phone, occasionally nodding. across from you, gyuvin and taesan were locked in some silly debate about whether mint chocolate was a real ice cream flavor or not. the usual chaos filled the cafeteria—laughter, the clatter of trays, and distant complaints about break ending too soon.

just as you were about to take a bite of your food, minju nudged your arm. “so,” she started, “did you end up getting your album?”

you put your chopsticks down. “yeah, why?”

belle perked up. “wait, didn’t you say jungwon was there too?”

at the mention of the guy’s name, minju sighed dramatically. “ugh, don’t remind me. of course he was. he is everywhere. seeing him at school and family gatherings is enough for me, but no, of course not.” she complained further, making belle laugh.

taesan, who was half-listening, raised an eyebrow. “jungwon, as in your cousin yang jungwon?”

minju sighed again. “yes.”

gyuvin smirked, leaning toward your side with curiosity. “this kinda sounds like a wattpad story. you and jungwon at the record shop? what happened?”

you shrugged, not wanting to give details. “nothing much, we just ran into each other,” you say, leaving out the arcade and the bet. technically, you didn’t lie—you did run into each other.

minju scoffed. “yeah, and he used his annoying charm, didn’t he?”

belle grinned. “that explains why y/n looked a little flustered.”

you decided to ignore her comment, but the way minju stared at you made you shift uncomfortably.

before she could interrogate you further, a new presence approached the table.

jungwon.

your breath hitched as he casually walked past, chatting with some of his friends, some of whom you recognized. jungwon didn’t stop, but as he passed, his gaze found a way to you—just for a second. a glance and a knowing smirk.

your stomach did a weird flip.

taesan must have noticed because he nudged you with his elbow. “uh-oh. what was that?”

you quickly shake your head. “nothing.”

minju, however, caught on immediately. “y/n.”

you ignore her, suddenly finding your lunch very interesting.

but your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you had a guess who that was.

jungwon: hope you’re not backing out of our deal, pretty girl :)

you locked your phone, hoping no one saw that message.

yeah… this was going to be a problem.

if before you never noticed jungwon at school, now it’s a different story.

minju was right—he is everywhere. you go to the vending machine? he is there. go to your locker to grab a textbook? jungwon is across from you, near his own locker. even in the cafeteria, he always seems to find a way to sneak a glance at you. what’s worse? he makes it obvious. always smirking at you, showing off his dimples. at times, texting you compliments, reminding you of your promise to get coffee with him.

now, as you come out of the teachers’ lounge after discussing your projects with the physics teacher, you really hope not to bump into jungwon.

but luck is not on your side.

as you step out of the teachers’ lounge, you barely take a few steps before a familiar figure casually leans against the wall beside you.

“took you long enough.”

you blink at jungwon, who’s watching you with his signature smirk. “were you waiting for me?”

he shrugs. “let’s say i had a feeling you’d pass by here.”

you cross your arms, raising a brow. “and why exactly would you wait for me?”

“well, i think someone still owes me coffee.” he tilts his head, pretending to be in deep thought.

you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “i didn’t forget.”

“good, because i was starting to think you were trying to escape from our little deal.”

you scoff. “please, if i wanted to, you wouldn’t even see me.”

jungwon chuckled, clearly amused. “is that right? guess i’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

he steps back, shuffling his hands into his pockets as he starts to walk down the hall. “meet me at the front gate after school, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah. don’t be late.”

he grins. “i should be the one saying that, pretty.”

and with that, he disappears into the crowd, leaving you standing there, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck.

but someone noticed the blush on your ears, and they weren’t overjoyed with it.

minju and you had been friends since middle school. she truly cared about you, thought of you as her best friend. but as she watched your interaction with her cousin, she couldn’t help but feel the disappointment creeping in.

she wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much—maybe it was the way jungwon looked at you, like he already had you all figured out. or maybe it was the way you looked back at him, the kind of gaze she had never seen you give anyone.

minju had always been protective of you—it was a responsibility she felt. she had been by your side for years. through every bad grade, every family argument, every late-night conversation about life. you were her person, and she assumed she was yours too.

but now, watching her cousin tease you with his shameless smirk, watching you try to stop the smile from appearing on your face, she felt like someone had stabbed her with the sharpest knife.

it wasn’t jealousy, as she thought. she didn’t really care about jungwon chatting with her friends, but the thought of him stepping into the space she always thought was only hers, the thought of you abandoning her for her cousin—made her stomach twist in pain.

she knew how jungwon could effortlessly pull people in with his natural confidence, and she knew you too, how easily you could be swayed with kindness.

was she overreacting? maybe, but as she caught the faintest blush on the tips of your ears, she couldn’t shake the feeling that made her feel horrible.

and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

the afternoon sun hung low as you stepped out of the school grounds, only to be met with a familiar smirk. jungwon was already waiting, leaning against the fence, looking too pleased with himself.

“thought you’d run off and break our promise,” he teased.

you rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips twitched. “you wish. i take my debts very seriously.”

“so buying me a coffee is a debt now?” he raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

“you practically scammed me into doing this.”

jungwon let out a laugh, his dimples showing. “and yet here you are, willingly taking me to the café. interesting, isn’t it?”

you didn’t have a comeback for that, so you stayed silent, making him chuckle as he opened the café door for you.

you both walked to the counter to make your orders.

“i’ll have a peach iced tea, please,” you ordered your usual.

jungwon hummed, looking at you with an amused expression. “peach iced tea, huh? didn’t think you’d be the sweet type.”

you almost looked offended. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he grinned, turning to the barista. “i’ll have an iced americano. card, please.”

you blinked. “wait, what?”

jungwon shrugged, handing over his card before you could protest. “consider it a treat. since, you know, you’re already so sweet.” his tone was playful, but the smile told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

you groaned, hiding the warmth creeping up your face. “you’re impossible.”

he simply laughed, nudging your arm lightly as you both stepped aside to wait for your drinks.

you didn’t think jungwon would be an interesting person to talk to.

yeah, he made you feel something, but you just brushed it off as pointless flirting.

but as the conversation between the two of you kept going, you realized there was more to him than just smooth lines and smug grins. he was funny—witty in a way that kept you on your toes. he listened, asked questions, and actually seemed interested in your rants about movies, books, music—whatever else slipped past your lips.

at some point, you caught yourself not hiding the smiles anymore, leaning in a little closer. it was easy—too easy—to get comfortable around him.

still, you reminded yourself: it was just playful banter. nothing more, nothing less.

at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

as the evening settled in, you and jungwon stepped out of the café. the cool air was a stark contrast to the warmth of your conversation. the streets were quieter, bathed in the golden light of street lamps.

“you didn’t have to walk me back, you know,” you said, glancing at him.

“i wanted to.”

you didn’t protest, secretly enjoying the way his presence made the walk feel shorter, lighter—better. the conversation continued, usual teasing remarks mixed with moments of quiet comfort. by the time you reached your doorstep, an unfamiliar hesitation lingered between you two.

“well,” you started, gripping the strap of your bag. “thanks. i had fun today.”

jungwon grinned, but this time, there was no smugness behind it. his smile felt softer. “me too. see you tomorrow?”

you nodded, stepping inside, giving him a little wave he reciprocated. when the door clicked shut, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

as jungwon walked away from your house, the usual confidence in his steps faltered. the night air felt heavier, and for the first time in a while, he found himself deep in thought.

at first, it was fun—teasing you, watching you get flustered, sneaking in compliments just to see your reaction. it was easy, something he never took seriously.

but now?

now there was this unknown feeling in his chest, one he didn’t understand. the way you laughed, the way your eyes lit up as you ranted about your favorite songs, the way you looked at him when you thought he didn’t notice—it all replayed in his mind, like an arctic monkeys album on repeat.

he liked you.

the realization hit him. it was both exciting and terrifying because it wasn’t harmless flirting anymore. it wasn’t a game anymore.

and suddenly, fear crept in—the fear of messing up, of ruining the dynamic you already had, of what minju would think, of what you would think if you found out how he was starting to care.

with a sigh, he pulled out his phone, hesitating before typing a message. but in the end, he deleted it, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he continued walking.

for now, he’d play it safe.

but he knew these feelings weren’t going to disappear anytime soon.

minju has been acting weird. not in a way that it’s obvious to everyone—she still laughed at gyuvin’s dumb jokes and rolled her eyes when taesan ranted about some rock band he had a hyper fixation on. but with you, something shifted.

she didn’t text as often, and when she did, her replies seemed distant and dry. at lunch, she still sat beside you, but the stiffness in her posture gave out how she was forcing herself to act normal.

you had a guess it was about jungwon, but there was no direct proof. she hadn’t said anything, nor confronted you. she hadn’t even mentioned his name. when you caught her looking at you, you could see an unreadable emotion—something about it pained you so much, no words would be able to explain it.

the worst part about it all—she pretended everything was normal, when it was clear as hell it was not.

did she think you wouldn’t notice?

you had enough.

after a week of minju’s distant behavior—short replies, the forced smiles, all the excuses—you could not take it anymore.

so when the last class of the day ended, before she could storm off as she did the past week, you gathered up all the courage you had and reached for her wrist.

“minju, wait.”

she froze for a second, carefully turning to you, her expression blank. “what?”

you exhaled, steadying yourself. “can we talk?”

you could recognize slight hesitation in her eyes. but then she sighed, pulling her wrist from your hold. “okay.”

you didn’t miss the way her shoulders tensed, she already knew what you were about to say.

as the teacher stepped out of the classroom, leaving you two completely alone, you opened your mouth to say something—but nothing comes out. the guarded look on minju’s face made you hesitate.

still, you pressed further. “minju… have i done something wrong?”

her brows furrowed, like she did not expect that. “what do you mean?”

“you have been avoiding me—barely talking, no daily update texts, you don’t even look at me!” you said it all in one breath. “please, tell me if i have done something wrong.”

she scoffed, shaking her head. “you didn’t do anything.”

“that doesn’t sound really convincing.”

she exhaled heavily, gripping the strap of her backpack. “i just—” she stopped herself, biting her bottom lip, before muttering, “nevermind, it’s nothing.”

you frowned. “it is if it’s making you act like this.”

she looked conflicted, her fingers twitched, like she wanted to grab something, maybe steady herself. then, she let out a humorless chuckle.

“you really don’t get it, do you?”

you raised your eyebrow, signaling her to elaborate.

minju sighed. it wasn’t her usual frustrated huff, it was heavier, emotionally deeper.

“it’s jungwon.”

you blinked. “jungwon?”

she nodded, letting out a breath she was holding. “you and him. i see the way you two are.”

you looked at her confused, not exactly understanding what she meant.

she looked at you, her eyes did not hold any frustration behind them, they were hurt.

“i hate it.” her hands clenched at her sides. “i hate seeing you with him. i hate that your smile is brighter with him rather than me.”

your breath hitched at her sudden confession. “minju…”

“i know i shouldn’t feel this way, i know it’s selfish,” she continued, her voice wavering. “but i can’t help it. you were my best friend. and now—” she swallowed hard.

“now, i feel like i’m losing you.”

you could feel your heart ache. minju had always been at your side, and you’re making her feel like this.

you took a step closer, taking her hand. “ju…”

she shook her head, wiping a few stray tears with her free hand. “i just don’t want you to leave me behind.”

you hesitated, guilt twisting inside you. fidgeting with your fingers, you remembered all the times minju had been distant lately, the way she avoided you, the way warmth in her was replaced by something unfamiliar, colder. it wasn’t about jungwon. it was about you. about her. about the space growing between you.

you couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her more than you already did.

your arms flung around her, hugging her tightly. you whispered, “i won’t see him anymore.”

minju’s eyes widened. “what?”

“if it brings you that much pain… i’ll stop.”

for a moment, she stared at you, as if she didn’t believe you. then her lips parted slightly, letting out a shaky breath.

“…thank you,” she whispered, hugging you back.

you gave her a small smile, as you continued to hold her. but deep down, you felt something twist painfully.

you ignored the feeling, because if staying away from jungwon would fix things, then that’s what you will do.

you will keep your distance. you will ignore the way your heart pulled you in the opposite direction.

making things right with minju was what mattered the most.

but as you held her, a storm of emotions burst inside you, and you couldn’t ignore the feeling that this decision would leave a crack in your heart that might never heal.

that night, as you lied in bed, the weight of your promise crashed on you like a big pile of stones. every time you closed your eyes, you saw jungwon’s smile — the way his dimples would appear when he teased you, the way his eyes softened when you reacted to it. you tried to push these thoughts away, telling yourself it was for minju, but to no avail. the harder you tried to fight it, the more his face lingered in your brain. was this really the right thing to do?

you decided to scroll through your chat with him — for the last time, before everything comes to an end. going back to older texts, you stared at your phone, that one message glowing on the screen: “hope you’re not backing out of our deal, pretty girl”. a smile tugged at your lips, before quickly wiping it away, remembering minju’s tear-strained face. she was—is your best friend—your person. you had to fulfill what you promised. but then why did it hurt so much, even from a mere thought of letting jungwon go?

you decided to go wash up, maybe a cold shower will freshen you up.

that’s what you thought.

the cold water hit your skin, sharp and biting, but it did little to wash away the mess in your mind. you stood there, letting the water hit you, hoping that it would drown out the thoughts about jungwon. but instead, it only made them louder. overwhelming thoughts clouded your mind. what if this was all a mistake? your—whatever it is—with jungwon. maybe he really didn’t care about you, maybe he was just bored and decided to play with you. but then you remembered the way he looked at you — like you were the only one in the whole world. undoubtedly, jungwon made you feel like it. you remember the way his hand held yours back in the arcade — warm and steady, like the tickling of a clock. even now, you swore you could still feel it, under the icy stream, the ghost of his touch hugged your fingers.

was it possible to miss someone that much?

after what you thought would be a refreshing shower, your mind never cleared up. changing into pjs and trying to sleep—uncountable attempts at emptying your head and tossing and turning in your bed.

concluding that trying to fall asleep was pointless, you went to your small balcony, the cramped comfortable place with a small couch. you always liked it, the way the city noise faded into distant hums, the way the sofa would cradle you when everything was too heavy.

you hugged you knees to your chest, looking up at the star-filled night sky, the cool air brushing against your skin. the familiar comfort of the balcony couldn’t help with the ache in your heart. why did it have to be like this? why did you have to choose between the person who was always there for you and the person who made your heart race in a way that you’d never felt before?

life is so unfair.

you knew that the next day would be challenging. you woke up earlier than usual, just so you wouldn’t bump into jungwon at your locker, just so you didn’t have to regret the decision.

one thing you were grateful for—jungwon wasn’t in your class. belle and gyuvin were—they helped you to empty your mind, they made things so much easier for you. at that moment you silently thanked them for being there.

during lunch, you sat at your usual table, forcing a smile as belle and gyuvin had a heated debate over something silly again. minju was next to you, her laugh ringing out as she teased gyuvin for his unluckiness. she was looking better, happier.

she gave you hope that everything might be okay. when she noticed you looking down, which she always did, she took a hold of your hand, squeezing it lightly. you looked at her, smiling and squeezing her hand back, signaling that everything was okay.

it was a lie.

you noticed jungwon coming closer to your location with your peripheral vision and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking, but you had to. you could since the way his gaze lingered on you for a second too long. you couldn’t reciprocate it, you shouldn’t. so you didn’t, you simply ignored him, rather engaging in a chat with your friends about who knows what.

this choices pained you, but you didn’t pay attention to it. thinking everything will be alright as long as you don’t acknowledge it. just to make sure, you squeezed the hand in your again, hoping the gesture would help to relax, but all it did was remind you of the promise that could be broken with a single glance.

it will be fine.

that’s the phrase you kept telling yourself, over and over, like a mantra. but as you sat there, surrounded by your friends, their laughter and chatting filling the air, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were lying to yourself and everyone else. you didn’t wanna believe it, refusing to accept your own thoughts. everything will become easier.

right?

the rest of the day passed in a blur. everything was as usual—you answered some questions in class, nodding along your conversations, even laughing at the right moments. you tried to delude yourself into thinking that everything was fine, and you almost succeeded. in the back of your mind, thoughts about jungwon still lingered.

when the last bell rang, you let out the sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding. you hurried back to your locker, you had to go home as quicker as possible, you didn’t want to encounter with anyone. but to your luck, fate had other plans for you.

“hey”

the familiar tone of his voice made you freeze. slowly closing the door to your locker, you stepped back, to make the distance a little bit longer between you two, as it didn’t feel as an enormous canyon already.

as your gaze met his, for the first time today, you were stunned. there he was in all his glory — jungwon. he was casually leaning against the lockers, hands holding his backpack.

“you’ve been avoiding me” the way he said this was light, but it carried something heavy, his eyes tell everything.

you open your mouth to deny, but you can’t. because its true. you have been avoiding him. you did everything just to not interact with him. suddenly, you can’t look him at the eyes, unable to focus on anything, your eyes run across the hall, just to find something. anything.

“is everything alright?” his soft, somewhat scared tone made your eyes flicker to him again. this time, he wasn’t looking at you, instead, he stared at the floor beneath him.

if the smirk that had a place on his face at the start of the conversation, now it disappeared. his face carried so many emotions, but one stood out the most.

fear.

this is the first time you see him like this, the confident, cocky jungwon, was now too scared to look at your eyes, asking such a simple, but at the same time difficult question. you didn’t know what to do.

one part of your mind whispered—to apologize for ignoring him, to hug and to comfort him. you want to say that you didn’t want to make him feel like this. but on the other hand, someone screams at you to go away, to stop seeing him, to tell him to block your number. and the one thing that pulls you to do so, is the promise between you and minju.

you never have broken your promises, never. even in the third grade when you got one C, you promised your parents to get 100 in all the classes next semester. that you did, even when you were sure that they wouldn’t mind if you got less. even in the 7th grade, when you promised to bake cookies for all your friends, with zero knowledge of baking. you still did it, even if the taste wasn’t that amazing. you still did it.

you can’t break the promise you made yesterday, the promise to your beloved best friend.

what you were about to do will hurt you, and you will definitely regret it, but it just had to be done.

“lets stop this” you say sternly, trying to hide away all the pain that your own decision brought you, hoping that it will ease the impact on jungwon, fully knowing that it wont.

“what?” his head shot up, a surprised look evident on his face. for a moment, he just stared at you, as if waiting for you to laugh and say it was a joke. but that moment didn’t come, his expression shifted, confusion and hurt played on his face, along with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.his eyebrows furrowed, “are you serious?”, his voice cracking slightly.

you just nod your head, despite the storm and explosions inside your brain. fixing the bag strap on your shoulder, you just walk away, like it didn’t bother you, like you didn’t care about the record shop, arcade, cafe, like every his message didn’t bring you joy, like you didn’t care about him.

each step was heavier than the last one, you could feel the way he stared at you from behind, even when you wanted to, you wouldn’t dare to meet his eyes. if you did, you were sure you’d break.

tears welled up in your eyes. you want to apologize, want to say that it was just a stupid prank. but you couldn’t. not even for him.

as you walked away from the school grounds, you let tears spill, not able hold them back anymore. you wiped them away, but they kept coming, they were serving a reminder of what you just did, what you just lost.

as you walked home, the weight of your decision settled with unexplainable pain in your chest, a constant sickness that didn’t fade.

when jungwon arrived home after that night, he started thinking immediately.

should he confess or should he wait? if the first, then how? where? with flowers? with a plushie? with a vinyl?

as he thought about these, the moments of your talk flickered in his memory. not wanting to forget a single detail, jungwon grabs his notepad and writes down everything he remembers.

even after scribbling down his thoughts, his heart didn’t calm down—it still raced, he couldn’t understand, it was the first time he felt this way, he didn’t think that someone would be able to make his stomach flip with every emotion known to the world. he leaned back in his chair, spinning mindlessly around his room as different outcomes played in his mind. he was fed up with all this overthinking.

he should rest.

that’s the conclusion he came to. jungwon rushed to the shower, turned up the coldest temperature and screamed in terror.

that’s not what you do, idiot

after adjusting the temperature, he basked in the comfortable rain, calming down his mind and heart. that night he slept almost worry-free.

the week went smoothly, usual eye contact with you at lunches became something more, little waves joining the routine. jungwon tried to talk with you during breaks more too, finding you at your locker or vending machine in the backyard of the school campus.

sometimes you would share short jokes with each other, laughing quietly. the other, you would get to know each other more, playing 21 questions, this way jungwon was able to show you the picture of maeumi and find out that you adore dogs, especially the small ones. that small fact brought a smile on his face, he started to imagine the walks that you two would go on, he’d bring maeumi along, and you would have a nice picnic date, maybe.

he was quickly snapped back into reality with your next question, pretending that he didn’t just imagine how you would intertwine hands.

one time, you were quiet with each other. it could’ve been awkward, but it wasn’t, it was comforting actually. the wind gently blowing on you, carrying faint noise from other classes along. you two would just laugh at that while making eye contact.

everything seemed to go smoothly, jungwon was already brainstorming ideas for his confession—already sure with his choice. there was just one question left to ask: what is your favorite arctic monkeys song.

and he was sure that today he would ask it.

the morning went as usual, he got up, brushed his teeth, got dressed and went to school. his first period was math, but even that couldn’t ruin his mindset, which wasn’t unnoticed by his friend, sunoo.

“what’s up with you today? you’re never this hyped for mr. lee’s class”, he asked, looking at jungwon like he grew 2 heads.

“it’s nothing, just have big plans” and that he did, jungwon planned to take you to the vinyl shop where you met during the break. listen to some albums and ask you the question he badly needed an answer to.

“something related to y/n?” sunoo asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

instead of a response, jungwon just smiled, the red cheeks answered for him. and when he heard the giggle his classmate made, the blush only deepened.

up until lunch, jungwon couldn’t contain the happiness he had, smiling through all his classes, even through chemistry. his classmates looked at him like a maniac, i mean, who smiles during organic chemistry explanation?

he didn’t care about all that tho, all he wanted is to see you at lunch, look at your eyes and smile.

when he met up with jay near the cafeteria, he knew that they would pass your usual table, he mentally prepared himself for that moment.

he walked in your direction, that way, you would face each other perfectly, and when he almost waved, you refused to meet his gaze, preferring to engage in a conversation with your friends.

the smile on jungwons face immediately faltered. he felt an instant drop in his chest, confusion overtook his expression, if the cafeteria wasn’t so crowded, he would definitely stand like a deer.

jays arm was placed on his back so he would continue walking, and jungwon couldn’t help but submit. a wave of emotions struck him. what was that just now?

he could only keep walking, but the only thing replaying on his mind was how you turned away from him. over and over.

did i imagine that? maybe y/n just didn’t see me, yea that has to be it.

he tried to reason with his own brain, but the more he thinks about the interaction, the more doubt he has. you looked at everyone else, hell, jungwon swore, you looked at his direction for a millisecond. you saw him, you just—chose not to.

the weird feeling appeared in his stomach, not the one from before, no. it didn’t make him giggly and happy, instead, it made him sorrowful, doubtful.

jays words don’t even make sense now, jungwon can’t hear them, all he can think about is: what did i do wrong?

when he met up with his other friends, his mind was somewhere else, he didn’t answer their questions, he couldn’t even hear them, he was deeply immersed in his own thoughts. every single possibility crossing his mind. he had to ask you what was that.

after lunch, he could not focus. if in the morning it was because of the happiness that distracted him, now it was the misery casting upon him. he had to get out of this class immediately. jungwon counted seconds until the bell. and when finally it rang—he ran to the backyard with all his strength. he doesn’t mind his friends who look at him confused, he has to go to your spot. and when he arrives—

nothing.

jungwon is met with emptiness of the backyard, if you wanted to come here, then you would, your classroom was literally a minute away, unlike his. but you didn’t.

you’re not near the vending machine, not sitting on the bench, and you’re not even crouched down in the corner where you two would usually sit.

then it hits him. it’s not a coincidence.

you’re avoiding him.

jungwon just stands there, not knowing what to do. he takes in the silence—the emptiness. the place that was associated with warmth was colder than any winter.

now he must talk to you. he checks his watch, it was 2 minutes before the bell on the last lesson. he had no choice but to come back. when his friends tried to question him, jungwon just shrugged, signaling that he didn’t want to answer anything.

he just has to wait for another hour. damn it.

when that painfully long 60 minutes passed, jungwon stuffed all his things into his backpack, not caring if it was messy, which was unlike him, he always made sure that his notebooks are all organized. the mess in his head made his actions look chaotic.

when he arrived at the lockers, he saw you. rushing to put all your textbooks in a tiny blue locker. why were you in such a hurry? is it because you didn’t want to see him?

jungwon shakes his head, there was no time to overthink, he just had to ask, you were right here, in front of him.

as he tried to calm his mind down, you were almost done. he leaned against the lockers, almost whispering:

“hey”

jungwon could see you stop in your movements, this little detail made his heart sink, his hands gripping the backpack strap so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

as you carefully close your locker and take a step back, which breaks his heart, you finally look at him, at that moment, jungwon felt mute, he couldn’t get any words out of his mouth, and he had plenty. he wanted to curse at you, question you, adore you, but all that he is able to muster out is — “you’ve been avoiding me”

you look stunned, like you didn’t expect that question, but quickly that expression transformed into one of regret? that only made jungwon more curious at what you had to say. he felt despair, he was dying to know what prompted such behavior from you.

after noticing how your orbs scanned through the school hall, he couldn’t continue looking at you, instead, shifting his gaze to the floor, wishing that it would swallow him as a whole. “is everything alright?”, he manages to whisper.

few seconds later, which felt like an eternity, you look at him, with a stare so harsh, that it felt like a hit by a metal bat.

“let’s stop this” you say, and jungwon can’t believe his ears. his breath got caught in his throat. you didn’t have to specify what you meant by ‘this’. it was obvious, you both acknowledged the growing tension between the two of you.

he felt like a deer in headlights. “are you serious?” he asks, because he feels like you’re joking. he is waiting for you to laugh at him, to point his expression, just say something, anything.

but you don’t, you just nod, rubbing salt into the wound. and when it couldn’t get worse, it did. you turned away and walked away. just walked away. the ache in his chest spread all over.

jungwon felt devastated. after everything — you just turn away from him? he wants to cry, to break down, but doesn’t find any strength in himself to do so.

he just watches your figure slowly disappear when you walk towards the direction of your home.

you cried the whole evening.

when you just got home, you broke down, disturbing everyone present. your mom looked so heartbroken at the sight of her daughter in such misery. and she couldn’t do anything but give you a comforting hug and offer your favorite tea, which was enough.

your dad decided to give you space, which you were grateful for. you didn’t know what to do and what to think. you just…had no idea.

even your older brother gave you some space by not teasing you for your tears, feeling that it was something serious.

when you went up to your room, you dropped your bag, which resulted in a loud noise, but you paid no mind to it, you just wanted to cry.

not bothering to change out of your school uniform, you collapsed onto your bed. the dampness of your pillowcase only reminded you the reason why you were crying.

jungwon.

the way he looked so hopeful, but so doubtful at the same time. visions of him only strengthened the flow of your emotions.

you want to apologize, to call him, to confess in everything you felt, how he made your heart race, or how you couldn’t think straight way back when you two met at the photobooth.

and then you remember minju. how happy she looked, like she was released from the heaviest load. or how she looked when she admitted her feelings, how much stress she buried within herself.

all these overwhelming feelings made you tremble. your fingers curled into the fabric of your jacket, gripping it so it could somehow steady you, like it could calm down the storm in your mind. you tried to take a deep breath, but it only made everything worse—you could smell the scent of cinnamon of your shampoo, the one that jungwon teased you for all the time.

you exhaled. shaky and unsteady.

why did it feel like this?

every time you though of him—his eyes searching yours in the sea of others, his smile with unforgettable dimples, that made you giggle too—it felt like a weight pressuring down on you. you squeezed your eyes shut in attempt to forget those memories, but they clung to you, like lyrics of the song you loved.

you had done the right thing.

then why was the pain so sharp?

monday was a dread. the start of the work week, the sudden change in the sleeping schedule and an overwhelming amount of tasks and responsibilities weighing over you.

but this week, it’s even worse. because this week, you had to face him again.

you still weren’t over the emotions that consumed you over the weekends, still feeling regret, melancholy and sorrow. and that showed in your academics. you had no energy to even talk, there’s no need to mention solving an equation at the board.

thanks to your good reputation, teachers decided to let you rest, that you needed. honestly, you wouldn’t have come to school, if not for the physics quiz, but there is one.

your friends—belle and gyuvin—seemed really worried, asking you numerous questions about your well being. you didn’t wanna explain, so you just said that you didn’t sleep well. an excuse that works all the time.

you felt bad for lying, but you felt that the moment his name will leave your lips, you would break down in tears, not wanting to embarrass yourself further, you saved yourself the trouble.

your look hasn’t changed at all when it was lunchtime. barely making your way to the cafeteria, dragging your legs across the floor. when you did arrive there, you felt overwhelmed, your mind clouded with scrabbled thoughts, and suddenly, it was getting harder to breathe.

trying to compose yourself, you get to your usual lunch table where everyone else were waiting. plumping yourself on the seat and greeting others, you pick on your food, having no appetite, even though you haven’t had breakfast in the morning.

all the words don’t make sense, whatever minju is telling you, it goes into one ear and leaves through the other, you can’t focus on anything.

the struggle to breathe came back. dropping your utensils, you grab your head, not being able to deal with all these noises. you could feel tears forming in your eyes, daring to roll down. the heartbeat went far away from normal.

this is not you, focus y/n

you try to tell yourself, but to no avail. you could feel like the control of your body slipped away from your grasp.

suddenly, there was a sharp sensation, someone is trying to wake you up, shaking you. its minju.

“y/n? y/n! Y/N?”

it is definitely her. her voice stands out from the crowd. you could finally see what’s happening around you, blurry, but good enough.

“follow me. inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale” minju repeated worryingly, imitating what she meant.

you did as she asked, inhale and exhale, and repeat.

feeling the warmth of the real world, you gasp, your hands quickly taking ahold of whatever first came into contact, which happened to be your best friend’s arms.

“y/n! are you alright? what happened?” all the eyes were on you, staring into your soul.

“i…don’t know, i juts lost myself for a second, i guess…”

“come with me, ill walk you to the nurses office” minju says and immediately brings you up, giving you no room to refuse.

having no choice, you follow her, hoping to get a little bit of silent time.

jungwon watched this unfold from few meters away.

the moment he saw you, tirelessly dragging yourself to your friends, he couldn’t tear away his gaze from you, not even the pain you brought stopped him. he just knew that something was wrong.

when the faint sound of chopsticks falling onto the table could be heart, he became tense, stopped eating himself.

the tears that formed at your eyes made his eyes widen, and his posture weird, like he wanted to stand up and come to you.

jungwon’s fingers twitched against the table, he couldn’t, he shouldn’t, but he wanted to.

while he was in the internal conflict, his body moved up on its own, but not making more moves, like testing his limits, if he can hold himself back.

but his mind was too slow. his own cousin was already helping you, trying to snap you back into reality. he could feel his chest tighten at the sight.

was it jealousy? was it sorrow? maybe both? jungwon didn’t know, only you were on his mind.

how he hates to see you in pain and how you pained him. the contrast was overwhelming, but before he could even decide what to do, you were walking away, in the arms of minju.

what was he supposed to do? was he supposed to do anything? questions filled his mind.

he didn’t even notice how he sat back, his mind being too clouded.

jungwon hopes he will have a chance to know if you’re well.

the moment you lied down on the bed in the nurses office —you fell into a deep slumber, having no worry in the world, it might have seemed like that, but it was actually the opposite. the overwhelming amount of things that clouded your mind made you pass out.

to be frank, the sleep was nice. but the sound of someone calling your name disturbed it.

and just like that, you were woken up and met with the face of your own mom.

she sweetly said: “sweetie, i’m here to pick you up. your homeroom teacher told me what happened. are you okay?”

“im fine now. what time is it?” you answer her, scratching your head, ignoring the mess that formed there.

she looked at her watch and looked back at you. “2:30, you won’t miss much, don’t worry”

“alright, should we go now?” you stand up on your feet, holding her hand.

your mother just nodded at you, saying goodbye to the nurse.

when she finished filling out the form, she took ahold of your shoulders, as to steady you.

“im alright mom, i wont fall”

“better be safe than sorry” she said softly, but worry was evident in her voice.

“if that makes you feel better”

as you both sat down in the car, the feeling of drowsiness appeared again. the drive to your house was not short, so you decided to sleep for a bit. your mind was clear as day, like it was washed, which is so unusual for you, especially in the past few days.

when you arrive at the house, you decided to check your phone, several messages appeared, some from social media, some from other stuff, and a lot from the specific group chat.

it was your friend group chat — and multiple messages made it clear that you made them worry a lot.

minju: y/n pls text when you’re feeling better :(

belle: yes! and don’t forget to drink lots of water and rest a bunch TT

taesan: belle is right, you should rest. don’t come to school tmrw

gyuvin: you made us worried bro 😭 don’t scare us like that the next time

smiling at their care, you quickly type a response.

you: sorry everyone! thank you for all the support, and i don’t think ill come tmrw either TT

you: im alright now tho, just gonna rest a lot lol

a few bubbles appear immediately, wishing you a good rest, and saying that you should take better care of yourself.

you reacted to their messages, silently promising that you will do as they said.

putting your phone on the charger, you change into more comfortable clothes and go back to your bed, ready to make up for missing sleep the past week.

tuesday, you, as promised, didn't show up. minju was glad that you let yourself rest, even if it’s just for a day. she was worried about you after all, it wasn't like you to have a panic attack in the middle of lunch.

it was boring though. usually, you’re the one who agrees with minju, the one who would listen to her. it’s not like the others won’t, but it just wasn’t the same.

“whatever,” minju thought. “at least i leave early today”

today was some kind of a family event at her house, her mom loved inviting guests over. jungwon will be there too. minju didn't feel anger as she usually does, talking with you helped a lot more than she thought.

after the fourth period, right before lunch, minju was already packing her bag. as she walked to the gates, she noticed a familiar figure waiting there.

“jungwon?” minju asked, when she was close enough.

the said boy turned around to face her, he didn't seem surprised though, like he was waiting for her.

“oh, hey. my mom will be here soon”

“huh? auntie is picking me up?” minju was surprised to hear that, as she wasn’t notified of this.

jungwon looked at her weirdly, raising one of his brows. “yea? pretty sure, your mom texted you about this.”

minju immediately checked her phone—taking it from her pocket—and jungwon was right. there was a message from her mother that minju will be picked up from school.

“oh.”

awkwardness filled the air; it was weird, the two of them got along just well, playfully bantering, but supporting each other when needed.

“are you alright? you seem pretty out of it” minju broke the silence, genuinely worried for his well-being.

“huh? oh yeah, just fine” he replied, his words trailing off into something barely audible.. “um,” jungwon hesitated.

“is y/n good…?” the question was asked impulsively, jungwon was surprised himself.

minju looked at him weirdly. “yes, she is. why do you care?” the previous awkwardness shifted into something more sharp and stern. friendliness slowly disappearing.

“i guess, i was worried. looked like she was having a hard time yesterday.” he didn't mind minju’s tone, like it was normal for her, which it kinda was.

their one-sided tension was interrupted by the sound of a car honk. it was jungwon’s mom.

“hey, you two! get in! we’re already late!”

the two teenagers looked in her direction and sprinted off to the vehicle. both of them got into the backseat, on the opposite sides. while minju was talking with her auntie, jungwon decided to wear his headphones and tune into his world of music.

when they arrived to park household, minju and miss yang went to the kitchen to help minju’s mom, while jungwon went upstairs to minju’s room.

“you can go to my room” he recalls her saying.

as he walks in, jungwon is met with a splash of sky blue. her bed is made, with different jellycats on top of it, near it, minju’s desk stands, different makeup tools and school stuff lay on it. but jungwon’s attention goes to the board above her desk. different polaroids and photobooth photos are there, but his gaze is fixed on only one.

three photos with you and minju. you look exactly the same as the day when he first met you. the same sweater, hairstyle and lipgloss.

jungwon’s eyes widened. he doesn't know why. he is aware that you’re best friends with his cousin, so why did his chest tighten?

he still likes you.

that’s right. he still does. even after you said that you gave to stop seeing each other, his feelings still lingered.

“hey jungwon, you should go downst-”

minju stopped in her tracks when she sees her cousin staring at her board with pictures. her eyes immediately landed on what he's staring at—those pictures.

“oh, yeah, lets g-” he didn’t have time to finish his sentence as the sudden door slam scared him.

“what’s up with you? first you ask about y/n, and now you’re staring at her photos? didn't i tell you to stop whatever you're planning?” annoyance was evident in minju’s voice. she hated the fact that jungwon looked like he cared about you, minju knew he didn’t, she hoped he didn’t.

jungwon's chest tightened, his hands formed fists as a habit whenever anyone raised their voice at him.

"what are you talking about?" his voice was quite, but sharp.

minju scoffed at his ignorance. “don't play dumb, jungwon. you know exactly what im talking about. its y/n”

his jaw clenched. the sound of her name felt like a hit in the ribs. “what? i can't ask if she’s okay now?” he tried to play it cool, he didn't want to show his vulnerability.

minju let out a dry laugh. “you don’t get to pretend like you care.”

jungwon couldn’t believe what was he hearing now, he can’t back down now, that’s for sure. “you think i was, am pretending this whole time?”

minju was stubborn, her knuckles turned white. “then explain, why did she stop talking to you, huh? if you truly cared for her, then she wouldn’t walk away, right?”

jungwon flinched. his heart rate picked up and his fingers curled tighter into his palms.

he has been asking himself the exact same thing.

he sharply exhaled, forcing his voice to stay steady. “how about you tell me?”

minju froze, her eyes widened, her hands relaxed.

her reaction wasn’t unnoticed by jungwon. that’s when the realization hit him.

“so it was you? you told her to do it” his gaze locked on hers—piercing, demanding to confess.

“yea, so? it was the best choice for her” minju snapped, but quickly quieted down, as she started to pick ner nails. nervousness took a hold of her.

jungwon let out another exhale. “you cannot be serious now” he took a step closer. “who are you to decide what’s best for her?”

minju was triggered, she was everything he wasn’t to you. “i am her best friend, who are you to decide that you’re the one who she needs?”

“are you calling yourself her best friend when you can’t even see and value her feelings?”

“I-” minju had no words. he was right, she made you stop talking with him out of her selfishness. she wanted to keep you for herself. she didn’t want jungwon to take you from her. she didn’t want that to happen again.

“yeah, exactly.” he looked at her for one last time before rushing to the front door. he needed some fresh air.

“jungwon? where are you going?” “to the shop, i'll be quick!”

minju could hear voices downstairs, she was completely frozen. she was slapped with realization that she had no right to decide what’s best for you. even if she just wanted you to be happy.

tears formed in her eyes, silently running down her cheeks. minju leaned against her door and plumped on the ground, sobbing inaudibly.

she can’t just do nothing now. she was proven wrong. she hurt two of her closest people. the guilt was eating her alive.

minju stood up and sprinted to the front door, shouting “i’ll be right back!” ignoring the yell from her mom, she had no time, she had to apologize to you.

it’s a 15 minute walk from her house to yours, but she made it in 7. she started ringing your doorbell, even when she was still catching her breath.

“minju? what’s up- what happened?” you opened the door just to be met with your best friend breathing profusely, her face slightly puffy. from the looks of it, she looks like she cried. “did you cry? are you alright?”

when minju calmed down and was able to breath properly, she looked at you straight into the eyes.

“y/n, i-i am sorry. i’m so sorry.” she started apologizing, for what? you had no idea.

your brows furrowed. “huh? minju, why are you apologizing?”

her hands clenched at her sides. she looked like she wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out.

you had never seen her like this before—so frustrated with herself, so shaken.

she swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. “i’m so sorry y/n, it was me”

you were still dumbfounded. “what?”

minju’s voice cracked, but she kept going. “i was the one who made you stop talking with jungwon” she exhaled sharply. “i thought it would be for the best, but it wasn’t. i acted on impulse and because i was selfish. i thought if you and jungwon got close, you wouldn’t need me anymore. i didn’t want you to talk to him because of that, but i never asked you how you felt, and i guess you really like him, maybe i knew it the whole time, but didn’t want to indulge into the thought that i was in the wrong, but it doesn’t matter” she rambled before making a quick pause.

minju’s eyes were glistening again, her voice barely above whisper. “i hurt you both with my actions, and i want to apologize.” she wiped her eyes harshly.

minju took a deep breath and stepped closer, bowing almost 90 degrees. “i know i don’t deserve it-” her voice was raw with emotions. “can you forgive me?”

you listened to all her ramblings, trying to catch everything. and when you did, your mind went blank.

you had tried to justify what you did—tried to convince yourself it was for the best. but now, hearing minju say it out loud, admitting her mistakes, the truth weighed heavier than you had imagined. a moment of silence has passed before you broke it off.

“minju, i forgive you” you replied to her apology. “i understand how you felt, and i guess it was wrong to just randomly start talking with your relative.”

minju stood straight and grabbed your shoulders. “no! it was entirely my fault! i have no right of controlling who you decide to talk to.”

you placed your hands on her own. “i never knew you felt that way. i’m sorry for not noticing.” you bitterly smiled, feeling guilty.

minju hugged you, shuffling her head into your neck. you instinctively hugger her back, her tears dampening your shirt.

“come on, i’ll make you some tea”

you had spent an hour or two calming minju down.

she kept apologizing even after you told her you forgive her.

you listened to her worried and reasons behind her actions, and you never knew that she felt like this.

“you should confess to him, you know?” minju suddenly said, making you almost spit out your tea.

“huh? who said i liked him?” you looked around, like searching for the guilty one.

“it is pretty obvious. you never get flustered around anyone. the only time i remember was back in 8th grade.” she put her head into her head. “was his name jongseob, or something? you liked him a lot” minju reminded you of an old crush, which made you more embarrassed.

“ugh, stop, it’s embarrassing.” you lightly hit her. “i don’t think jungwon even wants to see me now. not after i said all that stuff to him.” tearing your gaze away from her, you looked around.

“you’re kidding. he literally asked me only about you today. ‘is y/n okay?’ ‘is she doing alright’ blah blah blah” she exaggerated even more by showing talking signs with her hands.

you quietly laughed at her antics. “i don’t know. i think he doesn’t want to see me”

“if there’s anyone he doesn’t want to see, it’s me, i promise you” she breathed out. “we got into a fight which resulted in me coming here.”

you looked at her with pity. “sorry, i guess, i am the reason behind it”

“stop. don’t blame yourself. it was all me.” minju looked at you sternly.

“sorry-“ you couldn’t hold yourself.

“stop apologizing! you should fix that habit of yours, it starts to get annoying”

you laughed lightly at her, almost apologizing again.

when minju came back home, everyone was gone. her place was filled with silence.

“oh, minju, where were you? you missed everything” her mothers voice filled the air.

“sorry, i had to do something urgent. has everyone left already?” she quickly made her way to the living room, where her dad was napping and her mom was watching the TV.

“yes, about half an hour ago. did you and jungwon had a fight? he looked pretty sad.”

“uh, yeah, it was my fault. i’ll apologize to him soon, don’t worry” minju felt guilty at the mention of her cousins name.

“i hope so, he looked miserable. you two always got along well too” her mom sighed, “go to sleep, you have school tomorrow”

“alright, good night” minju said as she went upstairs.

“good night!”

the next day, you didn’t have any trouble with breathing nor steadying yourself. you were just nervous. in the morning, minju pulled you aside, telling you that you need to confess to jungwon today.

after that, your focus was shifted to something else. how will he react after seeing you? to you confessing? will he reciprocate? will he reject you? all kinds of thoughts filled your mind up until lunch.

you wanted to look for him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. when you felt his presence near, you quietly turned your head to look at him, just to find him already looking at you.

kathump.

the feeling in your chest was back. your heart rate sped up again.

a light hit made you snap back, it was minju, she wore a teasing smile that literally said “i told you so”

your mind went back to that interaction the rest of the day. you couldn’t stop thinking about it. but when it was the time to talk to him, you were ready to go straight home.

you were scared. when minju noticed your hesitance, she slightly pushed you.

“your prince charming is waiting, look” she pointed at the direction where jungwon stood.

when you turned to look at your best friend, she was already leaving, mouthing you a good luck.

oh you needed it.

as minju disappeared from your view, you looked back at jungwon.

there he was. hands in pockets, standing tall.

you decided to take one step. and you already felt dizzy.

it’s okay. you can do it.

you quietly said to yourself. you swallowed hard. every step towards him felt heavier, like your legs didn’t want to move.

but you that you had to, that you wanted to.

as you were almost there, he looked at you. jungwon just stood there and watched your approach him. even though his hands were barely visible, you swear his fingers twitched—like he was holding himself back from walking to you.

you stoped in front of him.

silence.

the weight of everything crashed down at once .

“I-“ you started, but didn’t know how to finish. you just stared at him.

and he stared at you back. he blinked at you—his expression unreadable, but his eyes, they were curious, like they were searching for the reason you came up to him.

you turned your gaze to the ground below you, unable to stand under the pressure of his eyes. fingers finding the straps of your jacket.

“jungwon, i-“ you took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to look at him again. “i’m sorry.”

his face flickered with surprise. “for what?”

“for-“ your throat tightened like your grip on your jacket. “for pushing you away. for saying things i didn’t mean. for not asking how you feel. for-“

you exhaled.

“i miss you”

the words made their way out before you could stop them. your feelings summarized in three words. you just missed him.

jungwon froze.

he fixed his posture, continued to look at you, waited for you to continue.

your hands let go of your jacket and balled into fists. “i like you, jungwon” you made a slight pause. “i truly do, i don’t know how and when it started, but-“ you let out a shaky laugh, shaking your head.

“i just know because when i’m not around you, everything feels wrong”

jungwon was still staring, like a deer in headlights, but then, in a second—

his hands weren’t in his pockets anymore, they were on your face.

your breath hitched. you could feel the warmth, both from his hands and your fluster.

his fingertips, warm and gentle, carefully traced over your cheeks-like you weren’t real, like you could disappear in a millisecond.

his voice was barely audible. “are you serious?”

you nodded. “i am”

a small, breathless laugh escapes him.

and then-

he kissed you.

the warmth of his lips connected with yours.

your eyes widened, but you quickly adjusted, closing them, your hands made their way to his shoulders.

when his lips started moving, you couldn’t help but reciprocate. it just felt right.

you kissed each other just right. it felt wonderful.

the lack of air made you pull away first, but jungwon quickly kissed you again.

and when he did pull away, he smiled.

you saw the smile that you adored, the cutest dimples made their way back on his face.

jungwon hugged you, pulling you close by your waist. “i like you too,” he whispered into your ear. “i always wanted to say that.”

you hugged him back and lightly laughed. “so, can i be your girlfriend?” you asked him.

“i’d love that” jungwon replied, stuffing his head deeper into your hair.

you and your boyfriend lied in your room, enjoying each other’s company.

arctic monkeys’ ‘AM’ album playing in the background. and it’s all you could ever ask for.

“still can’t believe minju was the one who promoted you confess” jungwon suddenly said as he played with your hair.

“if it wasn’t for her, i’d never look at your direction again, honestly. you should thank her” looking back at him, you enlightened him.

“nah, we’re even.” he joked. “i’m glad she apologized tho, unexpected from her.”

“stop making her sound like a villain!” you hit him, but you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “she’s the one who made me go to that photobooth.”

jungwon held you tighter, kissing your cheek. “whatever, i have you now. the others don’t matter.”

at that you could only hum, closing your eyes.

as fluorescent adolescent—your favorite song—started playing, you drifted into slumber in your boyfriends arms.

[heeluvv]

LIKE THAT.ᐟ

pairing.ᐟ wonki x 8th member reader

genre.ᐟ smut

warnings.ᐟ oral (f), etc.

natty's notes.ᐟ request, mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

the dim light in the practice room cast a warm, golden hue across the mirrors, softening the sharp edges of the space but doing nothing to ease the pressure settling in your chest. your skin was already slick with sweat, the heat curling low in your stomach as your breath came faster, shallow. your clothes clung to you, damp with effort, but you pushed through—mind focused, heart racing—not for yourself, but for them.

this unit performance meant everything. just you, jungwon, and niki. the three of you had been selected for a special stage at the upcoming event—something bold, sensual, and completely outside the boundaries of your usual group choreographies. this dance was different. every movement demanded more than just technical skill—it craved confidence, seduction, intention. it was intimate. exposing.

and that was the part you struggled with.

not the steps. not the timing. but the way jungwon and niki looked at you when you danced. like they wanted more. like they knew exactly what this dance was doing to you.

you tried to match their energy—niki, fluid and teasing, always one step ahead with his body language; jungwon, sharp and controlled, every motion precise, almost predatory. next to them, you felt like you were unraveling, your body caught between the urge to perform and the deeper, unspoken desire to please.

you wanted them to say you were doing well. you needed it.

and beneath it all, a quiet truth pulsed: this wasn’t just practice anymore. not when jungwon’s eyes followed every sway of your hips. not when niki’s fingers lingered just a second too long on your waist. not when your body began to respond to the attention in ways that had nothing to do with choreography.

you were dancing for them now.

your hips moved in smooth, hypnotic circles, exactly how they’d shown you, every motion coaxed from you through repetition and quiet encouragement. the music pulsed like a second heartbeat in the room, slow and heavy, each beat syncing perfectly with the roll of your body. your breath was shallow, lips parted as you focused on the mirror, watching the way your silhouette swayed beneath the soft studio lights.

you heard his footsteps before you felt him—jungwon, silent as always, calculated in his every movement. then his presence washed over you like a tide, and a second later, his hands were on you.

he stepped in behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his chest. his palms slid up your arms, fingertips dragging along the soft curve of your shoulders before he gently took hold of your forearms. without a word, he raised them outward, guiding your posture. his touch was firm, steady, grounding.

“lower,” he murmured, voice brushing against the back of your neck.

you obeyed instinctively, sinking into a smooth drop, bending your knees as your body descended with a slow, deliberate grace. your eyes found his in the mirror—dark, focused, intense—and you held the gaze as you moved, your breath catching when you saw the subtle smirk tug at the corner of his lips.

“just like that…” he praised, his voice soft but full of heat, and something about the way he said it made your entire body ache for more.

as he straightened you back up, his hands trailed down the sides of your body with purpose, stopping to settle at your hips. he kept them there, grounding you, controlling the rhythm of your movements with small, intentional presses of his thumbs. your hips moved in time with his now—perfectly aligned—and the friction of his body against yours made your head go fuzzy.

his grip tightened, and he pulled you back against him, his pelvis fitting snugly into the curve of your lower back. your breath stilled. your stomach fluttered.

he rolled his hips once—subtle, slow—and you nearly forgot how to stand.

then he spun you.

it was smooth, fluid, like part of the choreography. his fingers curled around your waist, turning your body in one practiced motion until your back was pressed against another chest, another familiar warmth.

niki.

his arms wrapped around you immediately, securing you to him with a casual kind of ease, as if this had all been planned. his hands settled low on your hips, his chest rising and falling steadily behind you.

“look at you…” he breathed against your ear, his voice a lazy murmur. “so perfect like this.”

his hands moved with you as you kept dancing, guiding you through the movement as though your body was his favorite thing to touch, to study, to praise. the air around the three of you grew heavier, more charged. your skin tingled under their fingertips. your heart pounded in your ears.

“how about we make it even better?” jungwon said, voice calm, but heavy with something electric beneath the surface—something that made your breath catch before you even turned to look at him.

he walked toward the speaker in the corner of the room, each step measured, purposeful. the dim light above him caught the sharp lines of his profile, the sheen of sweat along his collarbone, the way his hair stuck to his temples. his fingers hovered over the speaker controls for a second before pressing down. the volume rose gradually, the beat deepening, bass thickening the air until it felt like the rhythm lived inside your chest.

you watched as his hand drifted away from the speaker and slowly moved down the front of his body, to the hem of his shirt. his fingers curled around the fabric and pulled it upward, slow and unhurried, revealing inch after inch of taut, glistening skin. the material clung slightly before giving way, stretching over his arms, then up and off. he let the shirt fall to the floor without a second thought.

his body was everything you expected—toned, lean muscle beneath golden skin, sweat trailing down the dip of his chest. his breathing was steady, chest rising and falling like he’d just stepped out of a dream. he wasn’t out of breath, but there was something about the way he moved—like he was pacing himself. holding back. savoring this moment just as much as you were.

and then, behind you, came a soft sound. a chuckle. low and warm.

niki.

his voice was close, teasing against the shell of your ear. “don’t just stand there, angel.”

his palm pressed gently against your lower back as he guided you forward—toward jungwon. the warmth of his touch was brief, but it lingered long after he let go, your body already aching with anticipation.

you moved to the center of the room, the soft thud of your footsteps drowned by the music and the thrum of your heartbeat. as you turned to face them, you caught niki in your peripheral vision—his fingers already tugging at the hem of his own shirt, that lazy grin tugging at his lips.

he peeled it off effortlessly, the motion smooth, practiced, like he’d done this a thousand times. the fabric dropped beside him as he stepped next to jungwon, the two of them now standing side by side, shirtless beneath the studio lights.

and they were unreal.

the glow from above traced every ridge of their bodies—the sharp cut of their abs, the subtle flex of their arms, the sheen of sweat painting their skin like it had been poured there on purpose. they were both lean but strong, each line of muscle shaped by hours of training, of discipline, of effort. they looked like they’d been carved out of heat and control.

but what got you—what really got you—was the way they looked at you.

like you were already theirs.

“come on, baby,” niki said, voice low, a little breathy as he leaned casually against the cool mirror behind him. his arms rested loosely at his sides, but his gaze? razor sharp. hungry. “dance for us.”

jungwon said nothing at first, but his silence was louder than words. he stood still, arms crossed, eyes fixed on you with the kind of intensity that made you feel naked. he didn’t need to speak—not when every inch of his body screamed watching, waiting, wanting.

“show us what you’ve got for your solo,” niki added. “we’ve been dying to see you lose yourself.”

you stood there, caught in their eyes, in the press of heat pooling low in your stomach. your fingers twitched slightly at your sides, breath coming quicker. the music seemed louder now—deeper, more primal. and still, they just stood there, shirtless, patient, expectant.

you hadn’t even moved, and already you were unraveling under their gaze.

and they knew it.

you let the music take over, sinking into the sound as the rhythm pulsed through your veins like heat. the beat was low and slow, rolling like thunder beneath your skin, guiding every shift and roll of your body. you didn’t think—you felt. your hips moved in slow, sensual waves, each motion dripping with intention. your breath came a little faster, and the world around you blurred until it was just them, the mirror, and the way the bass rattled through your bones.

your knees bent as you slowly lowered yourself to the floor, letting your body sprawl out with a graceful sort of abandon. your legs slid apart—one extending long and fluid across the cool studio floor while the other bent up at the knee, creating a deliberate arch that drew their eyes like a magnet. your back followed, arching to match the beat just as the bass dropped, your head tilting back slightly, hair brushing along your shoulders.

it wasn’t just a dance anymore.

your hands moved with purpose, gliding up the sides of your waist, fingers brushing the curve of your ribs before finding the hem of your shirt. you peeled it off slowly, deliberately, every motion exaggerated under their eyes. the fabric slipped over your head and off your arms, falling soundlessly to the side. you were left in nothing but your red lace bra—delicate, sheer, sinful in the low light of the studio.

the sound that followed wasn’t from the music.

it was from them.

two soft groans echoed into the space, barely audible over the heavy bass but sharp enough to send a thrill down your spine. you looked up through your lashes, chest rising with each breath, your body still swaying with the rhythm even as you knelt there—barely dressed, flushed, and fully aware of the effect you had on them.

you looked beautiful like this. powerful.

and they couldn’t look away.

niki shifted slightly, leaning harder into the mirror as his tongue slipped across his bottom lip, his gaze fixed on the curve of your waist, the red lace against your skin, the way you moved like you already knew what they were thinking. jungwon hadn’t moved an inch, but his eyes had darkened, jaw tense, breath slow. whatever restraint he had left—it was hanging by a thread.

they weren’t just watching anymore.

they were consumed.

at this moment, nothing else existed.

not the solo piece. not the choreography. not the upcoming performance or how perfectly you were supposed to execute each step.

none of it mattered anymore.

your mind had slipped away from the routine completely, swallowed whole by the weight of their stares—the heat in their eyes, the way their bodies remained still, but tense, like they were barely holding themselves back.

all your focus now belonged to them.

your body moved on its own, slow and deliberate as you began to rise from the floor, muscles stretching with each breath. the music still played, a steady rhythm in the background, but it was no longer your guide—it was background noise, a heartbeat compared to the storm inside your chest.

you stepped toward them, hips swaying with a natural grace, eyes locked on theirs, watching the way their expressions shifted—lips parting slightly, eyes darkening even more, chests rising a little quicker with every step you took.

you could feel it—the hunger, the want, the anticipation pulling the air tight between all of you.

when you reached them, you didn’t say a word. you let your hands speak for you instead.

both arms lifted slowly, each one reaching out in opposite directions. your fingertips brushed against their skin at the same time—one hand finding niki’s toned abdomen, the other sliding over jungwon’s.

your touch was featherlight, barely grazing the surface at first.

niki’s abs flexed slightly under your fingers as you traced the defined lines of muscle, dragging your touch upward toward his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin and the way his breath caught for just a second.

at the same time, your other hand explored jungwon’s torso—his body rigid, tightly coiled beneath your palm. your fingers followed the line from his ribs down toward his waist, slow and intentional, feeling the heat of him beneath your skin, feeling how still he went under your touch—like any sudden move might shatter the last thread of control he was gripping onto.

niki stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing—like the sight of your body, flushed and glowing under the studio lights, your delicate fingers exploring his bare skin, was something out of a dream he’d been having for far too long.

his chest rose and fell faster now, the muscles beneath your hand twitching slightly as you dragged your touch higher. the tension in him had reached its edge—tight and trembling, like he was fighting to stay still, to keep control. but your soft, exploring touch? it shattered him.

his patience snapped.

with a suddenness that made your breath hitch, his hands shot up, cupping your face between them with a firm, almost desperate grip. his eyes locked onto yours for a heartbeat—wild, dark, hungry—before his lips crashed against yours.

the kiss was messy. hungry. overdue.

your gasp was swallowed instantly, drowned by the pressure of his mouth moving furiously against yours, teeth dragging over your lower lip as if he needed to taste every part of you. his body pressed closer, pulling you in like gravity, like he couldn’t get close enough fast enough.

your hands flew to his chest instinctively, clutching at him as the heat between you flared. he tasted like sweat and mint, his breath uneven as he kissed you like he’d been holding it in for far too long.

his hands didn’t stay still.

they slid from your cheeks to your shoulders, down your sides, then back up to cup your breasts through the delicate lace of your bra. his thumbs brushed over your nipples through the thin fabric, drawing a whimper from your throat that vibrated against his mouth.

“fuck…” he breathed between kisses, his voice rough and full of everything he’d been biting back. “fuck, i’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so fucking long.”

he leaned in again before you could respond, capturing your lips in another bruising kiss, one hand still gripping your chest, the other sliding down your back, anchoring you to him like he was afraid you’d disappear.

and all you could do was melt into him, lost in the heat of it all—the kiss, the touch, the sound of your name barely whispered into the space between gasps.

but it wasn’t just niki’s hands you felt on your body.

before you could even fully catch your breath, you felt another presence behind you—steady, controlled, unmistakably jungwon. his touch was different. deliberate. calculated. his fingertips brushed along your sides with barely-there pressure, tracing the shape of your waist as he closed the space between your bodies. each motion was unhurried, like he was savoring the way your skin reacted to every movement.

you shivered beneath his touch, but you didn’t pull away. you leaned into it.

his hands traveled up your back, slipping beneath the band of your bra. and without a single word of warning, you felt the clasp pop free—his fingers so precise, so practiced. the lace loosened, falling from your chest like a final layer of hesitation, sliding down your arms and catching at your wrists.

“look at you…” jungwon murmured, his voice low, laced with something dark and possessive. it wasn’t a compliment. it was a claim.

niki finally pulled his lips away from yours, breathless and flushed, but he didn’t move far. his eyes stayed on your face, then dropped to your chest as the bra fell to the floor, his gaze drinking you in like he hadn’t seen something so perfect in his entire life.

you barely had time to process before jungwon’s hand was suddenly on your jaw, firm and grounding. he tilted your face toward the mirror, forcing your eyes to meet your own reflection—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, chest rising and falling as their hands moved over you like you were made for them.

“eyes on the mirror,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “watch how pretty you are for us.”

your legs felt like jelly beneath you, heart thudding wildly in your chest. then his hands dropped again—lower this time—hooking into the waistband of your pants. you didn’t resist. your body moved on instinct, letting him peel them down inch by inch, dragging your panties with them.

the cool air hit your skin, and your breath caught in your throat.

you were completely bare now.

niki crouched without hesitation, helping to slide the clothing all the way off. he lifted each leg gently, pushing them aside with careful, teasing hands. his touch was soft, reverent, like he was handling something sacred. and the second you were free of the last scrap of fabric, both of them stepped back to take you in.

and god, the way they looked at you.

their gazes dropped to your exposed body, and the room shifted. the air thickened. the silence stretched, charged with something deeper than lust—something almost dangerous. their expressions darkened, pupils blown wide, lips parted like they were both holding back something primal.

you felt it before it even happened—the weight of jungwon’s stare, the heat of his breath ghosting over your neck.

and then, his fingers slid down.

your thighs twitched at the first contact—just a soft graze between them—but it was enough to make your breath catch. he hadn’t even touched your pussy yet, not really, but the promise was there. his hand moved slowly, knuckles brushing inner thigh to inner thigh, his fingers dancing closer with each heartbeat, teasing, lingering.

every nerve in your body lit up like fire.

you were bare, trembling, caught between them—every inch of you exposed and open. and still, they took their time, savoring every second like this was a gift they’d waited forever to unwrap.

his fingers found your clit with ease, rubbing soft, precise circles that sent a jolt of pleasure rocketing up your spine. your legs trembled instantly, thighs threatening to close around his hand, but he only pressed in closer—his body solid behind yours, grounding you as your body reacted on instinct.

your back arched against his chest, breath hitching as your mouth fell open in a silent gasp. you couldn’t even think—your mind blank, consumed entirely by the sensation, by the heat of his fingers moving against that sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure. he knew exactly what he was doing, and he took his time doing it.

“so pretty…” niki murmured from below, his voice a breath of silk that tickled across your skin.

you barely had time to look down before he was sinking to his knees in front of you, eyes locked on your trembling form with something close to awe. his hands reached out, firm and warm, gliding along your thighs before sliding beneath them. he gently guided them apart, spreading you wider for him as if he’d done it a thousand times.

and then he leaned in.

he kissed the inside of your thigh first—slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second of having you open like this. the press of his lips sent shivers up your legs, especially when he added just the faintest scrape of his teeth. he trailed more kisses upward, closer, closer still—until his breath was fanning hot across your dripping center.

you didn’t even have time to plead for more.

his tongue darted out and slid through your entrance without hesitation, the sudden contact forcing a loud, broken moan from your throat. your hands shot forward, grabbing onto his shoulders—or maybe jungwon’s arms behind you, you couldn’t even tell anymore—just needing something to hold onto as your knees nearly gave out.

niki groaned softly against you, the sound vibrating through your core as he buried his tongue deeper, licking and tasting like he was starving. his hands gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you open for him, keeping you from pulling away even if your body wanted to escape the overwhelming sensation.

every flick of his tongue made your stomach clench. every moan from him made your head spin.

you could feel yourself unraveling. every nerve in your body buzzed beneath your skin, hypersensitive and raw in the best way, like every soft touch and every whispered word was amplified. the moment was heavy—thick with heat and sound, the low thrum of music in the background blending into the rhythm of your own pulse. you were caught between their bodies, their mouths, their hands, and it was too much. it was everything. it was perfect.

niki’s tongue moved with skilled precision, every flick deliberate, every press of his lips designed to drag you further down. he was relentless in the way he devoured you, his mouth glued to your soaked center like he was starved for it. his tongue licked in slow, languid strokes at first—teasing, tasting—but it didn’t stay gentle for long. once he felt the way your body responded—your thighs twitching, your back arching, your breath stuttering—he locked you in place with his grip and started working you harder. his tongue dipped into your entrance, lapping up everything you gave him, then dragged upward to circle your clit, over and over, never letting up. the sounds he made were sinful—little groans and hums that vibrated through your core, filling the air with need, like your taste alone was enough to drive him wild.

behind you, jungwon remained anchored against your back, his body firm and steady, chest rising and falling in slow control. he held you like you were something precious—his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, his other hand working low between your legs, fingers slipping into the space niki’s tongue wasn’t already filling. he rubbed tight, perfect circles against your clit, syncing with the rhythm of niki’s mouth so precisely it made your head spin. you couldn’t tell which sensation belonged to who anymore—all you could do was feel, and feel, and feel, as their attention consumed every part of you.

your moans were constant now, falling from your lips in broken cries, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. your hips moved on their own, rolling forward into niki’s mouth and back into jungwon’s fingers like you were caught in a tide, a current you couldn’t fight. your fingers dug into jungwon’s forearm, clutching desperately, and he didn’t flinch—he only tightened his hold around your waist, pressing you harder against him like he wanted to merge your bodies together.

“breathe, baby,” he whispered into your ear, his voice low and velvet-smooth. “just breathe. let it happen.”

you nodded, or tried to, but you weren’t sure if your body even listened anymore. all you could do was take it—all their praise, their touch, their worship—and hope it didn’t destroy you completely.

niki looked up through his lashes, his lips slick, his mouth still busy as he moaned softly against you. the vibrations shot through your core like lightning. “you’re doing so fucking good,” he murmured, voice thick and wrecked. “you’re so wet… so perfect for us.”

the pressure was unbearable now. every roll of jungwon’s fingers sent sparks shooting up your spine. every stroke of niki’s tongue made your legs tremble harder. you felt it building, rising fast, too fast—the heat coiling in your belly, winding tight, threatening to snap.

“don’t hold back,” jungwon said, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “we want to hear you. let go, baby.”

“come for us,” niki breathed against you, kissing your inner thigh between strokes. “right here. right now. show us how beautiful you are when you fall apart.”

and just like that—your body broke.

the orgasm ripped through you like a wave crashing into the shore, sudden and overwhelming. your entire body clenched, muscles tightening as the release surged through your core, your limbs, your throat. you cried out, a raw, open sound that echoed around the studio, your knees buckling as your hips jerked forward. jungwon held you firmly against his chest, anchoring you through the storm, whispering soft praise as your body trembled violently.

niki didn’t stop—his tongue slowed, gentler now, coaxing every last ripple from your shaking body. his lips pressed tender kisses against your sensitive clit, his hands still holding your thighs apart even as they quivered under his grip.

you couldn’t speak. couldn’t move. your chest heaved with each shallow breath, your head falling back against jungwon’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as the aftershocks rolled through you like aftertremors. you were completely undone—skin flushed, legs weak, breath stolen—and still, they held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

jungwon’s hand slid slowly up your body, fingers brushing along your ribcage, then cupping your cheek as he turned your face toward his.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. “so fucking perfect for us.”

niki looked up from between your thighs, lips kiss-swollen and wet, his expression soft but starved.

“you’re not done yet, baby,” he said, voice full of heat and promise as he rose slowly from his knees, pressing a kiss to your stomach. “we’re just getting started.”

natty's notes.ᐟ hoped you guys liked it !

[liwinly]

𝗗𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗞 𝗢𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨: texts I didn't mean to send (but totally did)

enhypen hyung line ｡｡ when they accidentally confess to you when they are drunk

fluff friends to ??? drunken confessions ✶ mention of being drunk

【 COLLECTiON 】

ꢾ꣒ REBLOGS & FEEDBACKS

── .✦ @amoressb @chrrific @slayyuna @woniefication @ijustwannareadstuff20 @cheruphic @irasvr @puma-riki

[jnnul]

tokyo 1988

a/n: oh my god. everything hurts. when i say that this fic took it all out of me...i mean it. i learned as much from this fic as i healed. love is never easy and first love especially is so difficult. but there will always be a way to get up. special thank you to hua @polarisjisung for reading this monster of a fic and loving it with me! quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 29.5k (i'm so sorry...)

tags: girlboss neuroscientist!y/n x her resident!riki x ex!jungwon, she's a complicated one, lot to be learned and a lot of hurt to be experienced there’s a lot of soul searching in this one, i poured my heart and soul into this please love her the way i do warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol, death, pregnancy, family trauma, relationship trauma

[tokyo, 1988]

you stand outside the tokyo international airport, rubbing your shoulders to bring some warmth into them. you knew to bring a thicker jacket but somehow, it had completely slipped your mind when you left seoul. 

of course, you were otherwise occupied when you left so leaving behind a jacket was really the least of your concerns. 

your gaze strays upward as you wait, looking at the downcast skies and quite threatening clouds. they’re angry and a deep gray that makes you more and more sure that it was going to rain soon. 

you’d forgotten your umbrella with your coat. of course.

you check the watch on your wrist sullenly as you continue to wait. it was already half past two, meaning that yang jungwon was a good twenty minutes late. which would be concerning, considering how punctual the man was, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to be upset with him. 

it’s hard to be mad at someone you’d been in love with once - no matter how it ends. 

just as you’re about to head back inside to make a phone call to jungwon’s office to get a hold of him, an unfamiliar toyota pulls up to the curb of the airport pick up area. jungwon rolls down the window and your breath catches in your throat when you see him.

he’s a little bit more masculine than he was from your memory. a little more filled out, with more muscle than baby fat that had all but melted off of his body. he’d grown out his hair a bit, long enough that he had to shake it out of his eyes. his eyes were a little more tired but still full of life, just as you remembered. 

“long time, no see,” he quips, offering you a slight smile - one that you reciprocate. 

“it’s only been four years,” you point out as he exits the driver’s side to help you load your bags (the only two that you had) into the back of the car. 

when he’s shut the door to the backseat, he turns to look at you and you suddenly realize that he’d somehow grown even taller. you hesitate for a moment before stepping forward, and jungwon envelopes you into a gentle, tender hug.

“a lot can happen in four years, y/n,” jungwon says softly into your hair. you don’t say anything, not trusting your voice to speak without giving way to the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. but you know he knows by the way his grip on your frame grows just the slightest bit more firm before he lets you go. 

you try not to think about the implications of the fact that it almost physically hurts to see him pull away, as he took his warmth with him. 

jungwon opens the passenger side door for you, closing it gently when you’ve sat down and settled in your seat. 

he pulls out of the airport pick up area, merging onto the highway with ease - as though he’s done this many times before. he’s gotten used to tokyo, with the winding roads and the traffic that far exceeds seoul’s own traffic. your heart grows tight in your chest before you remind yourself that you’ve lost all right to feel anything anymore. 

“have you told hyewon that i’m in tokyo?” you ask after a couple minutes of jungwon driving in silence. jungwon hesitates before nodding.

“yes. she knows you’re in tokyo,” jungwon concedes. you sigh, leaning back into the seat.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t make it to your wedding,” you say. jungwon just shakes his head as he takes an exit off of the highway.

“it’s alright. i’m sorry to hear about your grandmother,” he says and you just turn to look at the scenery outside. there’s a slight drizzle as you and jungwon drive through the busy streets of tokyo that slowly morph into less busy residential areas.

“she missed you,” is all you have to offer in comfort. jungwon sighs, closing his eyes when the car rolls to a stop due to the traffic. 

“i’ve missed her - and your grandfather - too,” he confesses and somehow, the words bring more sadness than happiness that jungwon still cared for the past that the two of you shared - even if he didn’t care about you as a person anymore.

“i’m sorry.” jungwon stares at the road in front of the two you with a particularly confused look and you know that the look is meant for you. 

“for everything,” you continue, pressing forward with your eyes focused on the landscape outside, not once looking at jungwon, who sounds as though he’s about to protest. “for not coming to the wedding. for not telling you about my grandma. for not explaining anything before i called because i needed a place stay. for not being a good girlfriend while i had you. and - and for still loving you even when i have no right to anymore.”

jungwon is silent, and you know you’re not being fair to him at all. but jungwon is the one person that you’ve always been truthful with, even when it’s not fair and you know it’s not fair. because he’s the only person you’ve ever loved and quite possibly the only person you will ever love. 

“it’s not your fault,” jungwon promises.

he puts the car in park as you pull up to a standalone home near the outer ring of the city. 

somehow, the fact that he’s not upset with you the same way that you were upset with him makes you want to cry just a bit more. 

you get out of the passenger seat once jungwon unlocks the door, hesitating before stepping out. 

the house is nice - especially considering how expensive homes were this close to the city. it was two stories tall, with a well maintained lawn and a couple of rose bushes that lined the path to the front door. the entire house was white and gray, painted a color that was muted but somehow still lively against the dark tokyo skies. 

it was picture perfect. just like jungwon.

and jungwon and hyewon’s marriage. 

“come on, y/n,” jungwon says, carrying both of your bags. he’s standing at the point where the driveway gives way to the entrance of the home and for some reason, you want to take a picture of him like this. in front of this perfect home, looking every inch the man you’d fallen in love with as a young woman. 

maybe you could look back at the picture later, pretending that it was your house that you’d bought with jungwon. if you closed your eyes shut tightly and tried hard enough, you could imagine browsing houses until you found one that you and him both like. you could imagine making sure that the neighborhood was connected to a good schooling system for your future children. you could imagine waking up in bed next to jungwon everyday, knowing that it wasn’t a luxury to be able to do so because he was the man you’d married.

you open your eyes.

jungwon is standing in the entrance of the doorway turned to look at you, where jo (yang, you have to correct yourself) hyewon is standing with him, watching you.

[seoul, 1982]

“what would you do if we broke up?” you asked, playing with jungwon’s fingers. you already knew what jungwon’s answer would be but you can’t help the question anyway, needing to hear it from him.

“we’re not going to break up,” he said gently, shifting to look at you but you continued to stare up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle in the dead of the night. you’re not supposed to be on the rooftop of one of the college lecture halls with him like this but you figured that if you weren’t rebellious in the last few months of college, you’d never get the chance to do it again.

“but if we did,” you persisted, letting him weave his gentle and calm fingers with your own restless ones. “what would you do?”

jungwon was silent, the same way he was every time he was in deep in thought. it was one of the things that you loved about him the most; jungwon never said anything lightly or just for the hell of saying it. he was always so soft and gentle, thinking every word through before putting it out into the universe.

“i don’t know,” he confessed finally. he turned to look at the stars with you. “i don’t know what i would do. but i do know that i would never be the same. i don’t know if i could ever live a life without you, y/n.”

in that moment, the world felt so big and yet all yours. 

now, you knew it was just the foolishness of young lovers but at the time, it just felt like the truth. you’d taken jungwon’s presence, his love, and all of his patience for granted at the time, thinking that it was an infinite resource that you could always call upon.

it wasn’t until you were forced apart by fate that you realized just how silly the notion was.

[tokyo, 1988]

the interior of jungwon’s house is nearly as perfect as the rest of him. there’s cozy furniture placed tastefully, every inch the comfortable and inviting home. the dark wood of the house contrasted with the emerald green accents and the occasional gold decorative piece made the entire house look incredibly put together and well thought out. an elegant balance between a cozy look and and an expensive taste.

“hyewon picked it out,” jungwon says from behind you. you nod, swallowing down any bitter words as you try to offer the younger woman a sincere smile.

“it’s very beautiful,” you manage, a little bit softer than you were hoping. hyewon is silent for a moment, a habit you know she’s picked up from jungwon, before a small yet hopeful smile spreads on her lips. 

“i’m sure you see a lot more impressive people at work,” she says shyly, and you feel a tight squeeze in your chest when you realize just how young and sweet she is. 

“being a doctor seems a lot more fancy than it really is,” you cough drily, forcing a smile when you see that hyewon’s seems to have faltered, receding into her shell a bit. “but it is really special to be able to study the brain in ways you never would’ve expected.”

at this, hyewon seems to perk up once more, seemingly enthused that you held no contempt for her. 

you honestly didn’t. nothing that happened between you and jungwon was her fault. and while it hurt that she was living the life that you’d wished for so long was your own…it really wasn’t her fault. as much as you might hate the circumstances of your arrival back in jungwon’s life, you really couldn’t hate her.

“y/n, why don’t you go ahead and take a shower in the guest room? the flight to tokyo might be short but i know how much you hate not taking a shower the second you get home,” jungwon offers, head inclined towards the interior of the house - where you assume the guest room is.

you hold the bag in your arms a little closer to your chest before smiling sadly. “i don’t get that paranoid about not taking showers as soon as i get home anymore. there’ve been a few too many times i’ve collapsed without showering after a twenty-four hour shift at the hospital.”

jungwon falters, and almost as if to search for comfort, his eyes drift to hyewon. your heart feels tight in your chest when he does. there’d been so many times that he’d done that with you. when you were the person he sought out amongst people he knew and loved, just because he knew he would always be the most comfortable with you.

“but,” you choke out, clearing your throat. “i should take a shower this time. it seems that it’s the time of year where everyone has a runny nose and a cough.” 

the tension in jungwon’s shoulders melts in just the slightest as he nods, and you follow him further into the house. of course, the entire house is decorated similarly to the living room, with all dark wood paneling and…heated flooring?

“you have heated flooring even outside the bedrooms?” you ask incredulously, examining the warmth that seemed to be radiating beneath your feet. jungwon laughs sheepishly before opening one of the doors next to the kitchen area, leading you into the guest bedroom.

“hyewon gets cold pretty easily so we decided to get heated flooring installed everywhere for the colder months,” jungwon explains, depositing your bag at the foot of the bed. you hum in understanding before your eye catches on a specific painting faced away from you, so that you would see it laying in bed but not when entering the room.

you draw closer to it, breath catching in your throat as you recognize the painting.

“it’s the one you painted for my birthday,” jungwon says gingerly, and you nod, the lump in your throat not allowing you to verbalize your inner thoughts.

“i didn’t think you’d keep it after - after we broke up,” you confess and jungwon shrugs, looking at the painting with you.

it’s a simple painting. it’s just a crude painting of an emerald jewel that you’d painted after taking a painting class with jungwon in college. you’d always promised that you would show your magnum opus that you’d been working on for the entirety of the course to him when it was finished, finally presenting it to him on his birthday.

when he asked you what it meant, you’d cited his own words.

“we’re not going to break up. so this emerald is meant to represent our love, since emeralds symbolize deep, unconditional and everlasting love.”

the irony of the situation is not lost on you as you stare at the painting until the emotions inside of you overwhelm you to the extent that you feel like you can’t even breathe properly, forcing your head away from the painting.

jungwon coughs before turning away as well, padding over to the other end of the room, pushing a door open to reveal the attached restroom.

“feel free to use anything in there,” jungwon mumbles before rushing out of the bedroom, leaving you there, alone, with nothing but your racing thoughts and beating heart.

“thanks,” you whisper to no one particular, a cold loneliness setting in your bones - even with the heated flooring.

[incheon, 1981]

“who’s most likely out of all of us to get married first?” lee heeseung wondered aloud, slurping from his ramen. there were six of you huddled around a campfire, bundled in blankets and warmed up by the ramen that park jongseong had boiled for all of you.

“logically, it should be you, heeseung, since you’re an old fart,” park sunghoon said, twisting away when heeseung threatens him with the lid of the pot that the precious ramen was resting in. “but honestly, probably jungwon and y/n.”

you and jungwon shared a shy look before turning away, huddling closer in the much too thin blanket that heeseung had brought. 

“nah, it’s probably going to be jay and sumin,” you pointed out. it was then your turn to evade death by ramen pot lid, ducking into jungwon’s warm embrace when jongseong (who’d gotten the name ‘jay’ due to the time he spent in america before his family moved to seoul) started wielding the pot particularly intimidatingly.

“we’re only twenty-three years old!” bae sumin protested, but you see her leaning further into jongseong’s embrace, and it was clear that she wasn’t all that put off by the idea of marriage.

“so? my mom and dad got married and had me by the time they were twenty-one,” sunghoon snorted and you and jungwon had twin expressions of alarm on your face.

“i’m twenty-one, sunghoon and i’m nowhere near having a child!” jungwon exclaimed, and you nodded. while marriage wasn’t completely foreign to the two of you, with you having established that having a career set in place was most important (the path to becoming a doctor was a long and tiring one), you inevitably had to push back any plans of marriage for later than perhaps most couples who’d dated as long as the two of you.

after all, dating for six years was usually an experience that people heeseung’s age were more likely to have rather than your own peers as juniors in college.

“yes, but by the time that y/n gets into medical school and jungwon’s in a good place for his job, you’re going to be around twenty-four? maybe twenty-six if jungwon goes to military service right after college?” jay pointed out, finally putting the lid back on the ramen pot instead of wielding it around like a shield.

“heeseung will be his late twenties by then,” sunghoon sniggered and heeseung rolled his eyes, taking another slurp of his ramen.

“i’m only going to be twenty-eight or twenty-nine. i don’t know why you guys make me sound like an old fossil,” heeseung said sullenly, shaking sunghoon’s hand off of his back when he rubs his back in a part sympathetic and part sarcastic gesture.

“you already are an old fossil,” sumin joked, joining in on making fun of the oldest friend in the group.

the rest of the night was more fun at the expense of heeseung, the ramen pot lid being tossed from person to person to prevent decapitation at the hands of the enraged eldest.

you and jungwon hadn’t said anything at the time, just sharing a sweet smile and all too thin blanket.

[tokyo, 1988]

“when do you start work?” jungwon asks from across the dinner table. hyewon’s laid out a korean dinner filled with all of your favorites - almost like your grandmother did for you when you lived in the house she’d shared with you, just two months ago. 

staying in the house that you had been born in and your grandmother, the only parental figure you’d ever had in your life after your grandfather died three years prior, died in was far too much for you to handle, which is why you’d all but uprooted and ran away from seoul with little formality as soon as you could.

it’s funny, how something as simple as bulgogi can shake even the strongest of minds, taking them back to memories that they’d prayed to move past. 

you thank hyewon when she hands you a pair of wooden chopsticks that have a design engraved into them, shaking you out of your thoughts. they were a nice pair of chopsticks; not just a random pair of chopsticks that you give to guests for a single use. the knowledge that one of them had bought you a pair of nice chopsticks in case your stay extended long enough to need them makes you feel strange.

“i technically start on the fourteenth but i have to go in on the twelfth to get some paperwork in,” you explain, waiting for hyewon to sit to begin eating.

“do you need a ride to work?” he asks, reaching over the table to deposit some rolled omelette cutlets into his bowl, smiling up at hyewon when she does it for him instead.

“uh, yes, i would appreciate that. at least until i buy a car,” you say softly, eyes fixed on your own plate, unsure of if you really had it in you to look up and see more of their intimacy. 

“that reminds me,” jungwon begins, taking a bite of the omelette once hyewon’s also sat down next to him. “there are a couple of dealerships near hyewon’s school. we can all go together after i pick up hyewon from office whenever you’re free.”

you nod, chewing on a spring onion slowly. “sounds good with me. i was planning on going on the twelfth so you won’t have to be driving me around for more than a week.”

jungwon waves you off. “it’s not a bother for me. the hospital is owned by the university that hyewon’s doing her masters at so it’s not out of my regular route.”

“you’re doing your masters?” you ask hyewon, who’s been silent throughout the meal. hyewon seems to be startled, as though she had been checked out completely before she nods belatedly.

“yes, i’m doing my masters. i worked for a couple years but i realized that i wasn’t really getting promoted because i’m a married woman and because i don’t have higher education,” hyewon elucidates. jungwon opens his mouth to say something - undoubtedly to comfort her by saying that the sexism of those around her was not an accurate representation of her caliber but you beat him to it.

“you’re a smart and talented person, hyewon. higher education just gives you a certificate to prove it but i’m sorry that people don’t want to acknowledge your talent without a simple, largely useless piece of paper,” you say, voice steady and clear. hyewon pauses mid-bite and jungwon also freezes, his chopsticks halfway between his bowl and his mouth, his omelette slipping from his chopsticks and falling into the bowl.

they exchange a look before hyewon smiles - a real, genuinely touched smile.

“that means a lot coming from you, y/n,” jungwon says and you know he means it in more than one way. 

the rest of dinner is relatively quiet, with hushed requests for one dish or another but for some reason, it finally feels as though the tension in your shoulders has started to melt and you feel like you can take a breath of fresh air.

after dinner, hyewon decides to retire early, leaving you and jungwon to do the dishes, even though both of them protest heavily. 

“what kind of host would i be if i let you wash the dishes?” jungwon complains, physically trying to nudge you away from the sink with his hip but you ignore him, starting to move the various dishes into little containers once you find the correct cabinet.

“i’m living in your house as an uninvited guest until i find a house of my own, jungwon. i can’t take advantage of your hospitality,” you chide, snapping the lid of the tupperware open to line up the leftover cutlets inside.

“please don’t feel like a guest or feel uncomfortable. you moved to a new country and we’d love to make your move as easy as possible,” hyewon says, having changed into sleep ware as she unscrews her water bottle to fill it up with hot water she’d heated up before heading upstairs.

you just shake your head as you stack each filled container on top of each other, moving the emptied dishes into the sink. “i won’t feel like a guest and please don’t treat me like one. think of me as long lost family, if that makes you feel better about me doing the dishes.”

jungwon frowns as he sets the washed dishes into the dishwasher next to the sink to let them dry. “i’m not letting you do the dishes, y/n. but i will be very thankful if you could put those containers in the fridge.” 

hyewon just watches as the two of you work in tandem, slipping into a familiar rhythm as she turns around to head back upstairs, her water bottle still empty and her heart feeling as though it was going to beat out of her chest.

[tokyo, 1988]

hyewon wasn’t unaware - not of your history with jungwon. he’d been very open about his past and only previous relationship with you and had told hyewon very early into their relationship. she knew about how you and jungwon had been friends for years before realizing that perhaps there were more than just platonic feelings for each other. she knew about how he’d asked you out during your first year of high school at the suggestion of his friends, park sunghoon and park jongseong.

neither of them had come to jungwon and hyewon’s wedding - only lee heeseung and bae sumin.

hyewon knew about how the two of you dated for eight years before breaking up due to various reasons. she knew about the wreck jungwon had been after breaking up with the girl who was his first love, best friend, and inspiration to work hard all during the breakup. she knew about the eight months that hyewon and jungwon had tiptoed the line between friendship and something more when jungwon moved to tokyo, a year after you and him had broken up. 

she knew that he told her that he fell in love with her at first sight but he was carrying so much guilt from everything from his past relationship that he couldn’t cross the line in good consciousness until hyewon crossed it for him. she still remembers the look in his eyes when she kissed him as he was rambling about how he wasn’t good enough for her and that she deserved someone who wasn’t such a mess. god, he was so in love with her that it almost breaks her heart to realize how long it’d taken for her to really understand that look in his eyes.

so when jungwon told her that you were moving to tokyo after the death of your grandparents, hyewon thought she was okay. she had all the facts laid out in front of her and she knew that jungwon, while he would always hold a soft spot for you, was no longer in love with you anymore. she knew all of this as a fact because jungwon had promised that he wouldn’t open their doors for you if hyewon was even a bit uncomfortable with the idea that you would stay with them for however long it took you to get on your feet in a new country.

he told her, in words that were a lot more gentle and less charged, that the year of marriage that the two of them shared was a lot more important to him than the eight years of love and eleven years of friendship you’d shared with jungwon.

so yang hyewon had said that she was alright - that she wanted you to stay with them as long as you needed to. 

but when you appeared, stepping out of jungwon and hyewon’s red toyota, somehow hyewon lost the quiet confidence she’d had previously. not her confidence in jungwon. not when the moment jungwon parks the car, and perhaps even before, his eyes begin to search the entryway of their shared home for her, drinking up the sight of her the moment she opens the front door.

it’s when you step out of the car with so much grace, so much poise, carrying yourself with a sense of regality that hyewon cannot begin to emulate. that’s when hyewon starts to lose confidence in herself.

you’re elegant, with every step you take filled with a self-assuredness that hyewon knows only comes from having been battered down by the world in every way possible and still getting up every time. your blouse was pressed neatly, tucked into your slacks as though you’d walked off a ralph lauren runway, rather than the runway of an airport. 

your hair is perfectly pulled back into a low but neat ponytail, mascara smudged ever so slightly so it gives you a touch of humanity rather than looking messy. your eyes are analytical but still full of warmth when you look at jungwon - whether you realize or not.

and then you looked at her, and you’re skeptical. of what, hyewon’s not sure. maybe of the way she looks? her age? the way that she carries herself? her clothing? suddenly, hyewon feels like an awkward teenager again as she looks down, examining her body.

she’d gained a bit of weight after finals last semester, prone to late night meals after spending too much time studying. not so much that she felt she’d changed drastically, but hyewon can clearly see that there’s more fat around the circumference of her thighs than she remembered there being. her clothes are wrinkled at the ends of her shirt - not so much that it’s obnoxiously obvious but for some reason, hyewon feels as though you were able to see right through her and at all of her flaws.

see how she was just a young woman fumbling through life, trying to prove to the entire world that she was capable of being a career woman. it feels like it’s just not possible, though, when she knows that you’re a doctor (a neurologist, at that) and that you’re everything that hyewon wishes she was. intelligent, strong, brave, hard-working, elegant, and somehow, the right amount of detached and attached from and to the world.

for some reason, for some explicable reason, hyewon wants to prove herself to you. prove that jungwon was in good hands, even if you’d broken up with him. she wants to prove that even though she was two years younger, she was still mature enough to be included in every conversation. that she was able to hold her own household - one that included her husband. 

and then you enter the house, saying that the interior was beautiful and suddenly, everything makes sense to hyewon. 

hyewon was guilty. she felt guilty that she’d gotten all of the blessings in her life at your expense. at the expense of your relationship with jungwon. at the expense of your happiness.

she wanted to prove that she was worthy having everything that you wished for. just as you had everything she had wished for.

and as jungwon holds her to his chest, his other arm running through her hair gently, hyewon can’t help the tears that stain his satin pajamas - something that jungwon chooses to keep to himself, just holding her even tighter.

[seoul, 1987]

“i’m sorry man, i just really don’t think i’ll be able to make it to the wedding,” sunghoon said over the phone, tucking the cup of the phone into his shoulder as he pours two mugs of coffee.

“is everything alright in seoul, sunghoon? jay called me yesterday and told me that he’s not making it either,” jungwon said over the other end. his voice sounds grainy, somewhat choked up but sunghoon couldn’t tell if it was because of the connection or because of the emotion in his voice.

“i really am sorry, jungwon,” sunghoon said simply, sliding over one of the mugs to where you were sitting at his dining table, stretching the cable of the phone thin as he padded over to the table and then having to spring back before he pulled the phone box out of the wall. 

jungwon just sighed, and sunghoon felt a pang of guiltiness in his chest before jungwon spoke again, sounding almost defeated. “it’s alright. i just - i won’t have half of my friends on the biggest day of my life. i just always wanted to have all of you here with me but i understand that life doesn’t work the way we want it to sometimes.”

he was silent, perhaps waiting for sunghoon to change his mind and retract his statement but when sunghoon didn’t say anything either, he just whispered a soft goodbye before the phone clicked, indicating he’d hung up. sunghoon put the phone back in the phone box before slipping into the seat across from you, where you were sitting, a blank look in your eyes.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you go,” you said softly, never looking up from the inky recesses of the coffee you were sipping from. sunghoon reached over, covering your hand with his.

“i’m not going because i don’t agree with what he did, y/n. not just because of your - history with him. that wouldn’t be fair to him and it really wouldn’t be fair to you either,” he said, patting your hand gently before lifting his mug to his lips, retracting his hand from yours. 

“he did what was right, considering the situation, sunghoon,” you protested, but your voice was weak even to your own ears.

sunghoon thought for a moment, shaking his head when he came to his own conclusion. “no. he didn’t. leaving you when your grandfather had just passed was not right, no matter what you try to say.”

“sunghoon, you’re not being fair,” you tried to say but it was clear that your words were falling on deaf ears.

“he could’ve postponed going to tokyo, even if you guys had already broken up by then. we were all friends even before you guys started dating. it’s ridiculous that he forgot that conveniently,” sunghoon said, and your gaze grew concerned when you realized that his grip on the mug had turned his knuckles white. 

“don’t do that sunghoon. maybe that was his way of trying to get over everything. a fresh start in a fresh place. grandpa was always fond of jungwon, like a son. it must’ve been hard on him and he moved to a new country while he was mourning the loss of a father figure.” sunghoon was silent and you knew that no matter what you tried to say would’ve been moot to him - sunghoon had always been like an overprotective older brother towards you and had been the first person to draw lines between you and jungwon when you broke up. your first ally.

“you’re too kind to him.” 

“i love him.”

sunghoon shook the hair out of his face, looking at you with a strange expression as he analyzes your words carefully. 

“you love him?”

“i can’t help myself. i’ve spent twelve years out of twenty-six being in love with him.” 

[tokyo, 1988]

the drive into downtown is surprisingly less awkward than you’d expected it to be. hyewon and jungwon are engaged in quiet conversation in the front and you’re left to dissect your own thoughts in the back, feeling as though you’d be intruding on a private conversation if you were to listen to them speak. 

like an uncomfortable guest in a cozy home.

you shift in your seat, watching the skies turn from pinkish-orange to blue as the sun rises in the sky, later than you’d expected, shocked by the inky skies when the three of you had piled into the car twenty minutes ago. it seemed like the sunrise was even later than it was yesterday, when you and jungwon had headed out together for you to complete your paperwork at the hospital.

“y/n, you’re the first one on route,” jungwon says, turning onto a smaller street off the main one. you nod before realizing he couldn’t see you and coughing out an, “alright.”

“my classes are over at three and jungwon gets off of work at six o’clock,” hyewon explains, twisting in her seat to meet your eyes. “when do you get off of work today?”

you sift through a couple of papers that you’d been handed yesterday to learn your schedule before starting your rotations today, squinting as you read when you would be ending today. “today…i get off at three o’clock.”

hyewon hesitates before speaking, clearly not having discussed what she was about to say with jungwon. “would you want to go to the dealership with me before jungwon gets off work? it’s not too far of a walk from the university and it’d be good to look at your options before finalizing a car. unless - unless you already have a car in mind?”

for some strange reason, there’s a funny feeling in your stomach when you hear hyewon lose her confidence as she speaks and it’s plainly obvious that jungwon senses it too when he glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

“i have a few models in mind but i’d love if i could get a second opinion before i get a third,” you say as gently as you can, trying to make it obvious that this was as close to an olive branch as you would be able to extend.

hyewon hums in satisfaction and turns back around, but not before you see the shy smile on her lips. jungwon meets your eyes through the rearview as the car draws to a stop in front of the hospital and as you set foot outside the car, he nods.

thank you.

you tug your bag over your shoulder, stuffing the other papers you’d been examining into the bag somewhat haphazardly as you head into the hospital, not once turning around to watch the car drive off into the distance.

the hospital itself is much larger than you’d thought it would be when you first arrived yesterday, given that it was a sister hospital to the hospital you’d originally been working at had shifted you to as part of the fellowship program you’d applied to.

everything is white and glass, looking as though it’d been pulled straight from the future, with top to bottom glass windows and various, streaking pillars of sterile white that supported the entire hospital.

you fumble with your keycard as you pull it out of your bag, flipping it upside down once or twice before finally figuring out how to swipe it through the glass gates that separated the employee entrance from the rest of the hospital. you tuck the keycard into your bag before rushing through the gates as they start to close on you, letting out a sigh as you manage to make it through.

“it was pretty confusing on my first day too,” a voice says from behind you. you turn around to confront the new voice, only to have your gaze continue to travel upward as you come to face an extraordinarily tall man, who looks at you with a cheeky grin.

“i see,” you say simply, turning back around. the man doesn’t seem too discouraged however, reaching out from behind you to press the up button as you wait for the elevator to arrive.

“my name is riki. riki nishimura,” the man continues and you turn around once more to get a good look at him. he’s tall, dark, and every inch the type of beautiful that makes you a little nervous. the type of beautiful that an elegantly carved dagger might be - dangerous and yet so captivating.

he has dark hair that’s strewn across his forehead in a carefully calculated way so that he still looks put together and yet so casual at the same time. angles draw the harsh lines on his face, with a sloping nose and a gaze that makes you feel like he’s reading you inside out. but all of his lines are somehow softened by his lips, which are full and…currently moving, sounding out words that you most definitely have not been listening to.

“the elevator’s here,” the man - riki - is saying when you tune back in and you turn in horror to see that the elevator, in fact, is very much open and the doors are about to close in your face when riki’s hand shoots out to prevent them from closing. you rush inside abashedly, scolding yourself internally for being so caught off guard.

this wasn’t the first time that you saw a pretty face and most certainly wouldn’t be the last time you saw a pretty face. that didn’t mean that it was alright to stutter and trip over yourself every time you did, and for the elevator ride up to the ninth floor, you’re completely silent, chiding yourself for acting so immaturely.

“ladies first,” riki says, extending his arms in an almost overly gentlemanly way. you just bow your head in his general direction before hurrying out the elevator, turning to enter the neurology department’s office, only to belatedly realize that riki had not only not gone the other direction, but was actually patiently waiting for you to enter the office so that he could enter behind you.

you clear your throat, willing yourself back into the composed, analytical version of yourself you’d grown so accustomed to before opening the door to the office, not bothering to keep it open for riki.

there aren’t many people in the office, you notice, as you enter. there are a few very tired looking interns and residents who are scattered throughout the office, with majority of them taking power naps on the long table at the far end of the office or filling up yet another cup with coffee from the coffee machine.

you duck your head forward to see if you can catch sight of your little office from here, only to rear backwards when riki moves directly into your line of sight.

“are you dr. l/n? the new neurology fellow?” he asks, his hands tucked into the pockets of his white coat. you nod, attempting to side step him to make your way to the office but riki stands in your way once more.

“i’m sorry, can i help you?” you ask, shifting so that the bag sat a little more comfortable on your shoulder. riki watches you for a moment - a moment that makes you feel more nervous than you care to admit - and then he shakes his head with a grin.

“you’re spearheading the biomedical research on the new study on neuron death, right? and it’s relation to age and lifestyle?” he asks and your heart for a sinks for a split second as you realize why exactly his face had struck such an impression on you (or at least enough to render you speechless long enough to nearly miss an elevator).

“you’re my resident for the next three months,” you say drily and riki’s grin grows even cattier, if that was even possible. “i was told that you’d be showing me around the hospital today.”

riki offers a mock bow before straightening up quickly when he realizes that the other people in the room have started to brighten up from their fugue state at the presence of a new doctor.

“i’ll be showing you around the hospital and the laboratory facilities. and i’ll also be at your beck and call for the next three months - you’re the only doctor at the university of tokyo’s medical hospital studying synapses and i’m the only resident who’s on any of the neurology research related rotations,” riki explains, looking all too smug as he does so. 

you hum in understanding before turning to him with a question swimming in your eyes. “there’s so many residents in here. how are you the only resident on the neurology research rotations?”

riki finally steps out of your pathway and the two of you exit the main office to walk through the hallway to your office (which was the size of a broom closet, much to your delight) in tandem.

“they’re all first year residents so they have to go on all of the rotations. i’m a second year resident, so i get a little bit more control over the specialties i work in. not to mention that neurology research is a fairly difficult area of specialty to get into in the first place,” riki says as you stop in front of your office, pulling out your keycard to swipe into the small office, trying to keep the wonder off your face at such advanced technology when the lock to the office clicks open.

“i see,” you say absentmindedly, dropping your bag on your chair as you draw the blinds open, pleasantly surprised by the view, as you were greeted with the view of tokyo’s streets filled with people embarking on their own journeys.

“i hear that you’re the youngest doctor to be conducting neurology research,” riki says, making you aware (as if you could forget) of his presence in the cramped room.

“korea’s system is a bit different from japan’s medical system,” you say, turning back around to start pulling out the necessary papers from your bag. 

“i think you’re being too humble,” riki smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “i read your file, you know. wanted to see who would be taking over such a big research project. that was when i saw that you graduated at the top of your class in medical school and that you’d already published research as a medical student, two years earlier than other students. and then that you’d finished your speciality residency in two years, meaning that you’re the youngest fellow at our hospital.”

you blink, genuinely taken aback at the amount of research that riki has done into your academic history. “uh…i didn’t know any of that was publicly available information.”

riki just smiles, fingers tapping his arm as he watches you carefully. “it’s not.”

you frown, but before you can ask riki what the hell he means by that vaguely ominous statement, he slinks out of the room - presumably to check in at the computer in the front of the office, leaving you bewildered and somewhat worried in the room.

you take a deep breath, pulling out more papers when your eyes fall on jungwon’s signature on one of the forms.

emergency contact: yang jungwon.

a pang of guilt runs through your body, a dull ache like thunder after lightning, and for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to even begin to wonder where the guilt came from.

[seoul, 1983]

jungwon held your hand tightly between two of his own, tears threatening to escape from his eyes as he sat in the chair that he’d pulled up to the side of your hospital bed. sunghoon stood at the foot of the bed, frowning as he examined your state.

he’d just returned from military service a couple days prior, excited to see his friends (other than jay and heeseung, who he was forced to see everyday in the military) after making his rounds with his family, only to have to rush to the hospital in shock after jungwon called him that morning.

“sunghoon? hello? sunghoon?” jungwon had warbled out, immediately striking fear into sunghoon. in all the years that he’d known the younger man, sunghoon could count on one hand the number of times that he’d heard jungwon be that concerned.

“jungwon? what happened?” he said, already rushing to the entryway of his apartment to grab a coat from the coatrack. 

“y/n - she - she’s been working so hard lately because she’s doing research and she’s just started her first year of medical school,” jungwon said, it’s only then that sunghoon realized that he’d completely misread jungwon’s emotions. while there was definitely concern swimming in his voice, he could finally hear the sheer panic that jungwon was facing.

“jungwon. where are you?”

“at the hospital. y/n’s medical school called me, saying that she passed out. sunghoon, i’m her emergency contact.”

sunghoon tried his best not to show his displeasure on his face as he watched jungwon, who had his head down, buried into the hospital bedsheets.

“i’m her emergency contact.”

for some reason, jungwon’s words kept running through his mind like a never-ending chant as sunghoon tried to think. it wasn’t the words themselves. no, the words themselves were…fine. 

it was jungwon’s tone. the way that he sounded like he was somewhat in disbelief that he would be your emergency contact. the way that he almost sounded…unhappy? no. no, jungwon would never feel unhappy. he simply wasn’t the type to sound unhappy about anything that was related to you - or at least, as far as sunghoon was aware.

so what was it? what was it that was rubbing sunghoon in all the wrong ways?

it’s only when you finally woke up, two hours later, promising jungwon that you wouldn’t work yourself that hard again, that sunghoon finally realized what exactly was wrong about the whole situation.

it was jungwon’s panic, as if the reality that you cared about him more than he could ever realize, had just set in.

and somehow, sunghoon had a feeling that it was a reality jungwon wasn’t ready to face.

[tokyo, 1987]

“jungwon, please,” hyewon cried, reaching out to try and hold onto jungwon’s hand. jungwon stood as still as a statue, and for a moment, hyewon thought that he was going to shake her hand away, that he would cringe from her touch. but jungwon relaxed as she coaxed her hand into his, and it looked like all of the fight left his body as he slowly sank to the floor.

he looked up at hyewon, who was seated on the couch, watching him worriedly with eyes filled with unshed tears. jungwon closed his eyes, letting himself cry freely and hyewon falls to the floor, gathering jungwon in her arms as she cried into his hair.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, hyewon,” jungwon sobbed, clutching at her tightly, as though he was scared that she would disappear if he didn’t hold onto her.

“it’s okay,” she whispered softly, tucking his head under chin as they sat, kneeling on the floor.

“it’s not, hyewon. it’s just not fair. it’s not fair to you because it’s not fair that i’m still crying about y/n when i just married the woman of my dreams less than a month ago.”

hyewon remained silent, knowing that jungwon needed to spit up all of the guilt that had turned into poison, sitting deep inside his soul, to finally get better.

“it’s not fair because i loved her so much. i loved her so much that i thought i was going to die when she broke up with me. i - i knew that we weren’t perfect, that there were so many things that came in our way at the end of our relationship. but i thought that we would get past it. we’d made it eight years, and i can’t help but think that if i had just made it past those last eight months, we would’ve lasted.

“and i just feel so frustrated with myself because i cannot believe that i’m even saying that because if things had actually worked out, i never would’ve met you when you’re the single best thing that has ever happened to me, hyewon. the day that you changed your name from jo to yang, i swear to god, i thought that it would be okay if god decided to take me from earth that very second because at least i’d die the happiest man on the planet.

“but - but there’s a part of me that i just can’t understand. did - did all of those eight years mean nothing? did i even love y/n like the way i thought i did? i did at some point, because i wouldn’t have been so broken when we ended our relationship…right? but if i loved her then and that was true love, then what is this? and if this is true love, then what was that? is my doubt the real reason why we broke up? then will i be the cause of destruction for our relationship too? it’s my fault that i couldn’t introduce you to my friends - the friends that i’ve spent half of my life. i’ve destroyed every single relationship i’ve ever made for myself. maybe…maybe you and i - ”

jungwon never finished his sentence, his rambling mind given a pause when hyewon pressed her lips to his, firm and so sure of herself.

and between salty tears and apologies, jungwon finally learned how to forgive himself.

[tokyo, 1988]

you’re unsure of what to say, what to do when hyewon finally meets your eyes.

“why the hell would you tell me that, hyewon?” you ask, unable to keep the anger from staining your tone. “what could you possibly achieve from telling me about the intimate details of your marriage?”

your voice is soft but deadly, and yet hyewon sits, unfazed by the sheer venom in your voice.

“i couldn’t sleep these last few weeks,” hyewon confesses, holding her books closer to her chest. you look at her incredulously.

you’d just come back home after a grueling week at work, where you were meeting people that you didn’t particularly care about meeting, fending off riki’s double-meaning words, and trying to figure out how the hell anythingworked in japanese hospitals. where you were hoping for some quiet, perhaps some peace of mind, hyewon had asked you to follow her upstairs, into her and jungwon’s shared bedroom.

jungwon wouldn’t be back for another two hours, so you had been confused on why hyewon wanted to speak with you and hyewon’s recollection of the first month of marriage with jungwon was certainly doing a very poor job of helping you understanding anything.

“i’m really not following what you’re trying to say, hyewon. i’d be very thankful if you could just tell me,” you say gruffly, and hyewon looks at you strangely, as if you were the weird one for not understanding her intentions.

“i haven’t been able to sleep for a week - not because i was worried that something would happen. i see the way that you look at him, you know. i know that you still love him, and it’s so incredibly heartbreaking to see you love him so much because you need to know that it’s just not worth it.”

hyewon’s words feel as though as she’s struck you with something very large, very heavy and very painful as the wind gets knocked out of you.

“it’s not worth it? what’s not worth it?” you eke out once you manage to find your voice.

hyewon looks at you with sad eyes, an unreadable expression on her face. “loving him this much, now, isn’t worth it. maybe it would’ve been worth it back then, when you spent night after night working at the hospital instead of spending time with jungwon, but you chose to prioritize your career.”

“are you seriously saying that because i chose to become a doctor, my relationship with jungwon failed?”

hyewon shakes her head rapidly, almost as though she was begging you believe her. “no! no, that’s not what i mean. i mean…jungwon thinks that the reason that your relationship didn’t work out is because of his own doubts that you didn’t love him as much as he loved you. and there’s some stupid, dark, twisted part of him that won’t admit it but i know that it was because he felt insecure. all the doubt, all of the complaints about the long hours at the hospital, all of it came from his insecurity and i know that because i love him so much, i want him to be the proudest person on the planet. i want him to always hold his head up, being the most perfect person in the room and - and i just want him to be happy with himself.”

you’re shocked into silence, unsure of what to say - or if there even was anything that you could say at this point.

“and i’m telling you all of this because you love him so much that you keep loving this vision of him that you’ve glazed over in rose-colored glasses, holding onto a love that only exists in the past. and it’s just not worth it, y/n. you’re everything that i’ve ever wanted to be and i can’t bear to see you look at jungwon like that,” hyewon says, tears streaming down her cheeks.

you gulp, trying to force down the lump in your throat painfully. “like what?”

“like you’ll never be able to love anyone but him ever again.”

you sigh, turning your head so that hyewon wouldn’t be able to see you cry, brushing away the tears in your eyes as quickly as they form in your eyes.

“why are you telling me this, hyewon? all of a sudden? two weeks after i’ve been living in your house? are you telling me this because you want me to leave? what do you want from me? are you trying to see if i’m going to try to steal your husband? what do you want that i could possibly even give you?” you manage to eke out, trying your best to keep your emotions out of your voice.

“i want you to know that you might not have jungwon but you have so much,” hyewon says, slipping down from the bed to sit next to you on the loveseat on the other side of the room. “and that what you went through with jungwon’s parents was the same i went through. maybe that my career, or my profound lack thereof, was the reason why they pushed jungwon to marry me, even though we had only been dating for a year. that his insecurity about your career wasn’t jungwon’s issue alone, but the thoughts that his family had been shoving down his throat - but you already knew that.”

you laugh, a dry and grating laugh that sounds bitter even to your own ears. how could you forget? how could you forget the way jungwon’s mother had tried to convince you to quit medical school when your grandfather brought up marriage for the first time with the families? the way that jungwon’s father had turned his nose up while your grandmother bragged about the seventy-eighty hours a week you’d spend studying, working, or in class? the way that jungwon’s bright eyes clouded over with doubt at some point, whenever you brought up the future?

the way that sunghoon had been silent the whole time that you’d been in the hospital during your first year of medical school, slipping out quietly when jungwon asked you why you made him your emergency contact, a look of anger and sadness on his face.

“i still don’t know why you’re telling me any of this,” you say, looking up at the ceiling to physically push the tears in your eyes back to where they came from.

“because even though it’s so much easier said than done, you need to fall out of love with jungwon. you’ve gone through so much in your life and if there’s something that i know about you, it’s that you deserve to be happy. and you’re never going to be happy stabbing yourself with a double-edged sword of heartbreak. you deserve to heal, y/n,” hyewon says, mimicking you as she looks up at the ceiling.

“why now, though? why are you telling me all of this now?” 

“i don’t know. i’ve always been a patient person but i just felt like i needed to tell you. it was eating me up day and night for the past few weeks. i just - i just thinking that maybe if my older sister was still alive, she’d be a lot like you. and i’ve never wanted her to be anything but happy.”

“you want me, your husband’s ex-girlfriend, to be happy? the one that i’m sure your in-laws have been completely defaming for the past two years? the same one that happens to be living in your house without paying a cent of rent?” you ask, and this time the laugh in your voice sounds just a tad bit less sad than before, more shocked than anything else.

hyewon smiles through her tears, shrugging. “i’ve learned that anyone my in-laws don’t like is someone that i should definitely go out of my way to talk to.”

“how rebellious for the princess,” you say sardonically, and hyewon turns to you with a nostalgic melancholy written plainly on her face, seemingly not having picked up the dryness in your voice.

“my older sister used to call me princess,” she whispers, voice full of adoration, and it’s clear that hyewon’s older sister was an important figure to her - wherever she was. you turn to her, and for the first time in two and a half months, you feel as though there’s something that’s keeping you tethered to the ground beneath your feet. someone to keep you tethered.

“i’m sure your sister would be so proud of the way her younger sister has grown,” you say, turning away when hyewon starts crying even harder, trying to hide her tears from you, and you two sit there for almost an hour, just trying to be okay with not being okay.

[tokyo, 1988]

“are you avoiding me, dr. l/n?” riki questions, leaning against the inside of the door to your office, having had stormed into your office quite early in the morning as you sit at your desk, looking through some previous literature.

“i’m not even avoiding my ex-boyfriend that i live in the same house as when his wife told me that i need to fall out in love with him because she wants to see me happy after twenty-eight years of sheer tragedy,” you respond, not even looking up from your papers. “not to mention the fact that i quite literally can’t buy a house right now because i’m not a japanese citizen so my ex-boyfriend and his wife are my sponsors in this country so i can buy a house in another two months - even though this country colonized mine just forty years ago.”

“uh…i don’t know if you’re being completely serious about that or not but i hope you know that i personally don’t (and didn’t) condone the japanese colonization of korea…” riki says, his usually suave demeanor giving way to his genuine worry. you crack an ironic smile, looking up at him finally.

“i’m not avoiding you, riki,” you counter, setting down your pen to give him your attention. “and i’m being completely serious. although…i’m not sure why i told you any of that.”

riki hums, ducking to see if anyone was looking into your office before sitting down in the chair across from you. “i haven’t been in the lab for the past week.”

“you haven’t?” you ask sarcastically. “i never realized that my only resident never showed up to work.”

riki rolls his eyes before checking his pager to make sure that he hadn’t been paged before leaning forward in the chair.

“it took some threatening but i heard from dr. watanabe that you’ve been scheduling me conveniently on his rotations more often rather than your own. that sounds like you’re avoiding me,” riki points out and you shrug, neatly stacking the papers in front of you into piles.

“i hear you’re considering neurosurgery as the speciality you want to declare next year - dr. watanabe is one of the best neurosurgeons this department has to offer. i figured you might want to get as much exposure as possible before you go ahead and grab a scalpel,” you explain drily but riki’s gaze doesn’t soften in the slightest, jaw tight as he watches you.

“i’m considering neurosurgery. i might also want to go into neurology research too; i don’t know how i’m supposed to make an informed decision if i only have enough information about one career path because my fellow keeps pushing me away,” riki says and for a split second, your movements pause at the iciness of riki’s tone.

“i’m sorry riki. as your fellow, i thought i was doing you a favor so that you’d be able to make decision towards a cooler profession,” you confess, eyes soft and tone gentle, as though you were speaking to a petulant child - and this only serves to piss of riki even more.

“i’m twenty-seven years old, dr. l/n,” riki says after a moment of silence. “if i felt a certain way about being scheduled on your rotation, i am more than capable of saying so.”

“i’m glad to hear that, riki. i’m sorry for overstepping,” you say, attention diverted to the articles in front of you once more, completely oblivious to the grim line that riki’s lips were set in. the caring tone of your voice should convince riki that you might be shedding some affection on him but it’s not the caring warmth of someone who loves another.

it’s the type of care that a babysitter might offer to the child. like the affection between a young child and a daycare worker. platonic, mentor-like, and just far too coddling.

he watches you for a couple more seconds before getting up suddenly, the squeak of the chair when he does so resounding through the tiny room, startling you enough to accidentally mix up a couple articles. 

“dr. l/n, you may be the brightest person in the room when it comes to neurology but…” riki never finishes his sentence, shaking his head as he leaves the room, leaving you just as bewildered as you always seemed to be in his presence.

[tokyo, 1988]

“hey, you guys know my cousin? the korean one?” one of the residents said excitedly, waving a piece of paper suspiciously as he spoke.

“uh, the hot, married way too soon one?” riki asked, flashing the resident a smirk when he groans.

“yes, hyewon. anyway. she told me that we’re getting a new fellow from korea,” the resident continued. riki yawned, looking around to see if the line for the hospital cafeteria had reduced enough for him to go and get lunch.

“…and she’s SO hot, i actually think i got a nosebleed when i snatched this,” the resident said, taunting the other men around him by hiding the piece of paper from them, which riki belatedly realized was likely this hot new fellow’s application.

riki snatched the paper from him, ignoring the protests from the resident as the other men crowd around him, and immediately, a gasp seems to echo through the four of them. and riki couldn’t even blame them.

dr. l/n, y/n. god. even your name was gorgeous. 

his eyes traveled down the paper at lightning speeds, trying to soak up every piece of information he possibly could before he eventually lost grip on the paper that everyone else was trying to snatch away from him.

“she’s hot and she’s smart? we’ve got to keep her as far away from riki as possible,” one of the other residents joked, merely laughing when riki glared at him.

“i can’t believe that riki’s playboy antics are going to cross international borders,” the first resident snorted, rolling his eyes when riki’s eyes stare daggers into him.

“all of you need to shut up,” riki muttered, and the men finally seemed to register riki’s displeasure with their joking because the clump broke up as the men took their seats.

“why sleep with seven nurses in the same hospital if you didn’t want the reputation of it?” the resident said, stuffing the paper back into his coat pocket. he’s about to say something else (which most likely would’ve led to his death) but he was interrupted by his pager going off, groaning as he gets up to throw out the rest of his unfinished lunch.

“is it true that you actually slept with seven nurses?” one of the other residents, one who still has a bit of shine in his eyes, asked before leaning back when riki raised a very critical eyebrow.

“i don’t know who the hell started that rumor but i highly doubt that spreading lies like that led to too much of a laugh,” riki replied simply, and some of the men groaned, upset that the rumor of the neurology resident stud was untrue.

“you’re lowering our street cred, riki! if people find out that the rumor isn’t true, then no one is going to want to join neurology anymore!” they bemoaned but riki just ignored them, getting up to finally get his lunch since the line had grown so short.

but every step riki took to the lunch line felt like his legs were made of cinderblocks as he kept thinking about the beautiful doctor on the paper. not only was the doctor drop-dead gorgeous, but also well studied and extremely accomplished for only being a year and a few months older than riki.

he sighed as he dug his hands deep into the pockets of his white coat. there’s no way a woman like that could ever fall for him, he decided finally. no matter how riki portrayed himself, he was well aware of his capabilities and his capabilities seemed to lie exclusively in falling for women who wouldn’t even look at him twice. 

granted, there weren’t that many people who fell in that category in the first place, but that made riki’s predicament even worse.

y/n.

something about that name, that face everything made riki feel as though his entire body had been doused in cold fire.

it was confusing, invigorating, and frustrating all at the time. little did he know that it was only to get more confusing, invigorating, and frustrating, just with your mere presence.

[tokyo, 1988]

“dr. l/n!” you hear someone call out behind you, and you slow your pace as you turn to meet the person who’d called for you. you’re face to face with a man that you’ve grown quite accustomed with over the past few weeks in your time at the hospital, and it’s clear that he’s had to speed up quite a bit to catch up with you by the way he’s perspiring just the tiniest bit when he reaches you.

“dr. watanabe,” you greet, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. dr. watanabe flashes you a crooked smile, running his hand through his hair.

“dr. l/n,” he says and you look at him strangely, even with a hint of a smile threatening at your lips.

“you already said that line,” you remind him and this seems to snap him out of his stupor as he shakes his head.

“right. sorry. brain fog,” he explains as the two of you start making your way to the revolving door. “i’ve learned that a neurosurgeon should never do more than three surgeries a day to keep from going a little loopy.”

“i’ll keep that in mind?” your voice lilts upwards, as though you were asking a question rather than making a concrete statement. 

“right. you don’t do surgeries. sorry. brain fog,” he repeats as he pushes the first panel of the revolving door so it would be easier for you to push your own, given how heavy the doors were.

“is there anything you wanted to speak with me about, dr. watanabe?” you ask once the both of you are standing on the other side of the revolving doors.

dr. watanabe shoves his hands into his pocket before shaking his head, and then nodding, moving his head in circles from the conflicting motion. you watch him with a bemused expression before a small laugh escapes your lips, clearing your throat to regain your composure.

“i’ll get going then?” you say, feet pointing towards the parking garage you stationed your brand new toyota everyday. dr. watanabe’s hand reaches out, as if to physically stop you before he retracts it quickly, shoving deep into the pocket of his coat.

“i just - i just wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to get some drinks?” he asks, blinking his eyes quickly (due to what you presume to be nerves). noticing your hesitation, he adds, “it’s with the entire neuroscience department! or the ones who are either fresh grads or young residents, anyway.”

“oh, i’m not sure…” you trail off, checking your watch. but for some reason, hyewon’s face flashes through your mind and you look up at dr. watanabe, who’s looking at you as though you’d physically hung the sun in the sky yourself, an uncharacteristic shyness for someone so intelligent.

“i understand if you’re busy, dr. l/n,” he says softly and you bite your lip, debating your options when your eye catches on riki, who’s looking at you from the other side of the glass, an unreadable expression on his face as he watches you.

“no. i’m not busy - and please. call me y/n,” you say, smiling up at dr. watanabe, who returns a megawatt grin as he tells you to also call him by his first name.

“here, the bar’s not too far away from the hospital (which is honestly a safety concern, now that i really think about it) so you can leave your car here. also, you can’t have more than a drink if you’re driving back but you can leave your car in the parking garage and i can drop you off at home if you drink more than one drink over an hour,” haruto rattles off as the two of you start walking in the direction that you presume the bar is. you nod along, tucking away the important information as you walk. of course, you weren’t planning on having more than a drink (or staying longer than one or two hours) so that wasn’t much of an issue but it was still kind of haruto to look out for you. 

it was strange that he cared about your safety as much as he did though - whether out of just politeness or gentlemanly tendencies or even a crush that he’d happened to develop of the course of mere weeks and few conversations outside of neurology was still yet to be discovered.

in fact, it was very surprising that dr. watanabe of all people were to invite you to this gathering. out of everyone in the neurology department, you were closest to riki, due to working with him nearly every day for the last month. so the fact that this invitation had been extended by haruto rather than riki was surprising to say the least.

“dr. watanabe - i mean, haruto…is it alright if i invite riki too? i really don’t know anyone besides him and you, of course, but i’d hate to occupy your attention the whole time,” you explain, finding an answer in the intention behind dr. watanabe’s actions when he bristles at the mention of the younger man.

and riki said you were oblivious to things. you can’t help but turn your nose up a little bit, proud of yourself for not being out of the realm of worldly desires for so long you forgot what it was like to have someone like you.

huh. have someone like you. that, you were no stranger to. have someone like you back. that…it’d been a long time since you’d felt that.

you wait for haruto to mumble out an, “of course - i love riki!” before hurrying back inside, where you see riki pressing the button outside the elevator door to go upwards through the glass.

you fumble with your keycard, which you’d tucked deep into your bag, thinking you’d no longer need it for the day, cursing when you see the elevator door open through the employee’s entrance.

you rush through the door, hurrying to stop the elevator from closing on you but you groan in despair when the elevator doors close before you even get within three meters of it. you sigh, a bit too tired too really contemplate your uncharacteristic behavior (you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had the energy to run for anything) after nearly twelve hours of running experiments in the lab.

you’re about to turn around to rejoin haruto, somewhat dismayed, when the doors slide open, bringing you face to face with riki.

he doesn’t say anything, just looking at you with those piercing eyes, a sense of mirth swimming through them as he watches you take deep breaths to regain your balance. and somehow, you can’t find words to piece into the situation, as you watch him from the other side of the elevator. you watch as the doors are about to shut in your face before riki takes one step with those long legs so that he’s outside of the elevator vestibule, far too close for comfort.

his chest nearly presses against your own as he waits for you to acknowledge your behavior - or at the very least, say what you chased him down to say.

but instead, you just look up at him, unsure if you could find the right words to offer to him, tired and every bit confused of what exactly you were doing. it felt as though your brain was fuzzy, filled with cotton instead of brain matter and its a feeling that instills a deep seated panic in you. 

this was riki. the boy - man that you saw more of a younger brother than anything else…right? a mentee? a student? definitely nothing similar to siblings, if you really think about it. but…what? why was it that suddenly, being this close to riki made you feel like taking too deep of a breath was too intimate?

you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this way. had you ever felt this way? reckless and confused? utterly flummoxed by the person opposite from you?

you don’t get an answer to your own question as riki just smirks, cocking his head. 

“let me grab my stuff and sign out,” he says, not once breaking eye contact with you. 

he steps back into the elevator, and even with the distance between you now, you still feel like you’ve just run a marathon with how short of breath you are - all the way until the elevator doors close in your face.

you turn around, your back hitting the wall rather roughly as you try to catch your breath. 

something about it all makes you feel as though every single nerve in your body had been set on fire and then doused in icy cold water soon after.

[seoul, 1980]

“you really think that this is a good idea?” you questioned, ducking under the umbrella that jungwon holds out, shielding you from the pouring rain. 

“does it matter? we’re only twenty and stupid once, y/n,” jungwon reminded you, smiling when you nearly tripped into his embrace.

“true…so what does being twenty and stupid mean to you right now?” you asked, looking up at him, drinking up every single inch of perfection that jungwon always reflected.

“in this moment?” jungwon whispered, leaning in so close, you can see the individual water droplets that are starting to collect together from where he’d gotten soaked running to get you an umbrella. “it means we finish the soju in your apartment. sumin is staying at jay’s place tonight.”

“how do you even know that?” you retorted, inevitably smiling when jungwon presses a rather deep kiss to your lips.

“because jay asked me if i have any spare condoms,” jungwon snickered and you gasped, looking around as though anyone would be outside your apartment complex at two in the morning, eavesdropping on your conversation.

“jungwon! you can’t just say things like that!” you reprimanded him, but to no avail, clearly, when jungwon just ignored you to clasp your hand in his tightly, running straight through the cutting rain to make it all the way from the convenience store your apartment complex faced to your apartment building.

“but i just did!” he called out over the rain and you couldn’t help the shy grin that twists at the corner of your lips. it wasn’t often that jungwon acted like that - like a normal twenty-year old instead of an old man, as you so often teased him for acting like. jungwon always acted as though he was well into his forties and always spoke as though he’d had at least three lifetimes of experience before he’d even hit fifteen years old. it was usually endearing and definitely fit into the slow, innocent love that you and jungwon shared.

but the way that jungwon looked at you in that moment made you feel as though your entire body had been doused in gasoline and then set on fire. there was something different in his eyes - something that you hadn’t seen in the past four years that the two of you had been dating.

a hunger that you’d only dreamed of in the most private of your dreams but never really seen in your kind, sweet, calm boyfriend.

even the way he had one arm wrapped around your waist, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze on your back as you looked determinedly forward, almost too nervous to look back and see what exactly you were faced against.

the way that jungwon had been tapping his foot, waiting for you to unlock the door to your apartment with uncharacteristic impatience as you fumbled with the keys.

the way that his clothes got your own as wet as his when he presses you up against the door of your apartment the next second that you manage to click it closed.

the way that he grasped at every inch of your body in a way that wasn’t foreign or unwelcome but in a way that made you feel as though he was burning your skin with every touch.

the way that he made you gasp as his lips started to lead downwards - further down than you’d ever remembered them going. 

the way that it suddenly felt suffocating for the two of you to be in so many clothes. 

the way that you felt absolutely complete and satiated in his presence.

[tokyo, 1988]

“you’re being cruel, y/n. come on, we all know each other way too well and you’re already a bottle of soju in and you won’t even let a single secret loose!” one of the residents cries from the other side of the table at the restaurant all of you were seated at.

you laugh, waving the overenthusiastic resident off. little did he know that you were about half a shot of soju away from absolutely word vomiting about everything you’d ever done in your entire life - starting with all of the secrets you’d sworn never leave your little box of ‘cannot ever share’. but you’re glad that night after night of drinking yourself nearly to death whenever you’d crossed the legal limit for hours you could work a week had allowed you to perfect this poker face you had going on.

or rather, a very precarious grip on your lips.

“i’ve told you a lot about myself,” you laugh, ignoring the protests of those around you. namely, you very determinedly ignore the way riki is staring at you out of the corner of your eye and the way haruto is slumped over pitifully on your other side.

“you’ve told us that you’re twenty-eight, a neuroscientist, and that you want to adopt a dog. you’re not exactly revealing world class secrets here,” another resident points out and you can’t help the drunken giggle that escapes you.

if there was one thing that you were good at, it was keeping your mouth shut. which made the fact that you told riki the real situation you were faced against early into your working partnership all that much more compromising for your sanity but that would have to be an issue when you could stand on your own feet without teetering over as a drunken mess.

“what else do you want to know about?” you hiccup, smiling at riki when he passes you a water bottle, still determined to keep from looking him straight into his dark, probing eyes. somehow there’s a pool of fire in the pit of your stomach that takes you back eight years but you just can’t place the time or the feeling exactly.

all you know is that if you have any more alcohol and you do make direct eye contact, all sense of propriety and decorum would be going straight out the window. and you did not have the confidence to keep it from doing so.

“tell us about your first love!” the original resident calls out from the other side of the table and the entire table immediately erupts into a series of cries and protests (the two women present, who were thankfully more on your side) and wolf whistles (wildly inappropriate and incredibly drunken behavior from the rest of the twelve or so men barring haruto and riki). 

“you think that such a big secret will come out just like that? come on, dr. y/n. take a shot and at least slip us half a secret or so,” the other most proactive (read: drunk) resident retorts, sliding over a shot glass filled to the brim with soju.

“you’re telling me that i have to take a shot and i have to spill a secret? how drunk are you guys?” you laugh, pushing back the shot glass. the table groans, having failed to get their mysterious new fellow to spill her guts but somehow you find that the shot glass has made its way back to your side of the table.

you look up, and you regret it for just a moment when you see just how deep riki’s gaze is when you meet it. he pushes the shot glass just a tad bit closer to you, a challenge hidden in the way looks at you and with a sense of absolute lack of control over his sobriety. or perhaps, that was just the way that he looked, with the red blush that dusts over his cheeks and the way his eyelids are heavy as his gaze grows naturally sultry.

and for some reason, you accept the shot glass and knock it back in one smooth motion - and no one notices, having dispersed into their own little conversations by the time you do. in fact, even haruto is too busy trying to keep his head up at all to even pay attention to the fact that you and riki have slapped down a few thousand yen bills and have shrugged your coats on and left.

but it doesn’t seem to make much a difference because the rest of the night is a blur and you can’t seem to remember a single thing after you left the restaurant with riki.

[tokyo, 1988]

there’s a violent pounding in your head when you come to and you severely regret whatever it was that you did last night - even though you can’t quite remember what exactly it was that you did last night.

you remember bits and incriminating pieces as the previous night fades in and out of your mind like a sick and twisted person had to decided to play a rerun but decided to leave all the crucial parts.

you try to sit up but slip, and your head meets the pillow rather unceremoniously when you realize two things: these sheets were silk and that was an issue. not because the sheets are ridiculously high quality silk.

but because you (or rather, jungwon) doesn’t own high quality silk sheets.

you gasp, lifting the covers of this foreign bed ever so slightly, wincing when you realize that you were wearing nothing but a men’s t-shirt and boxer shorts - both of which you did not own.

you take a deep breath, trying to recall as much of last night as possible before you get a migraine from thinking too hard.

there are a few things that come to mind:

you were at a little company ‘dinner’ with all of the neurology residents.

you left said company dinner early after getting violently drunk like you haven’t in quite some time.

you left with riki nishimura, one of the main reasons you got as drunk as you did.

you remember having wine with him after you got back to his apartment.

you remember asking him about his first impression of you.

you’re woke up in his bed wearing his clothes.

it’s not much to go off of but it doesn’t take a neuroscientist to figure out what had happened last night. your worst fears are realized when you twist to the best of your efforts and come face to face with riki. or rather, chest to face, as you realize that riki had, and some point in the night, laid his long (rather well built!) arm across your body, from the way that his arm falls just short of your thighs.

you twist back as quietly and gently as possible, trying your best to refrain from any sudden or large movements that might wake the slumbering giant next to you. you lean just slightly out of the bed to catch the time written on the alarm clock, cussing when you realize that you’re not only too late to make a clean escape back to jungwon and hyewon’s place without either of them realizing, but way too late to make it on time for your shift.

“i called us both out sick. the hospital knows that the neuro residents get rowdy during these dinners - they only let us do this twice a year,” a deep voice rumbles from behind you.

you freeze. okay. this is fine. there has to be a solution for this situation. 

attack it systematically. the facts are laid out in front of you. what next?

you decide to slowly sit up in the bed, realizing that there was no way that you could make it out of this situation without having a conversation with the unfortunate owner of the bed you were currently in.

“oh. uh. good to know…i think,” you say, swallowing as you realize just how dry your throat is. “do - do you know what happened last night?”

riki is silent and you steel yourself to sneak a glance at him, only to realize that he was already looking at you with those stupidly hard to escape eyes, full of depth and a promise to something that you’re not quite sure of.

he shifts so that he’s also sitting up and turns so that he’s sitting facing you, much to your horror.

“you don’t?” he asks, eyes not leaving your face even once. you swallow again, pretending to be very interested in the thread count of riki’s bedspread (at least a few hundred, you gather, from how soft these sheets were) rather than having to face him like the grown woman you were.

“not really. i remember pretty much everything up until insisting that you don’t call me a taxi home,” you confess, still trying to memorize every stitch of satin. “i can’t remember a single thing after taking a sip of the wine.”

the silence that fills the room feels stifling as you wait for riki to say something. to put you out of your misery by addressing the elephant in the room. or even better, not address it at all and pretend as though it never happened.

“i see,” he says finally, and there’s a twinge of pain that forces you to finally tear your eyes away from the sheets to look at him. he looks the same, you think. there’s no change in expression on his face…but there’s a twitch of the eyebrows, a look in his eyes that gives way to the inner war that you know he’s going through.

not because riki was easy to read. but because of the way that the same war seemed to ravage at your own chest. stupidly enough, you wanted him to feel the same tear in his chest that you felt in your own.

about what, why, or what you were even feeling, you didn’t have a single clue. all you knew was that you didn’t want to feel alone in these feelings. it felt like after the loss of your grandmother, you’d been alone for so long. 

and although this wasn’t the catalyst you’d expected would finally get you to start processing the sheer amount of trauma she’d left behind, for some reason, you just didn’t want to feel alone in this. even stranger, you wanted riki to accompany you in these feelings.

for the first time in about four years, jungwon wasn’t the one on your mind.

“do you want to talk about it? or acknowledge this at all? or do you want to pretend it never happened and bury it?” riki says finally, shaking you out of your thoughts. a question that you don’t have an answer to.

“i don’t know,” you answer honesty. “do you?”

riki sighs, running a hand through his hair. “i can’t believe that you don’t remember anything that i said last night.”

your eyebrows furrow. “what does that mean? what did you say?”

he looks at you, and this time, you can’t even pretend to not see the heartbreak written so plainly on his face. 

“forget it, y/n. let’s pretend this never happened, if that’s what you want.”

and although that is what you wanted initially, for some reason, there’s a tightness in your chest that, like everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours, you can’t explain.

[tokyo, 1988]

the torment doesn’t end when you make it back to jungwon’s home. as it unfortunately appears, both hyewon and jungwon had been so worried sick about your whereabouts that they had taken the day off from school and work to wait and see if you’d make it home before presumably notifying the authorities.

neither of them were strangers to days where you were so busy with a patient or an experiment that you wouldn’t be able to make it back but you were usually really good about phoning home or leaving a voice message about your whereabouts.

so when you finally stumble through the door, exhausted both physically and mentally, by the events of the past day, you’re immediately greeted by a teary eyed hyewon wrapping you up in a deep hug.

“where have you been y/n?” jungwon asks from behind her, arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed. his tone is stressed, angry, worried, and even a little bit disappointed, you register vaguely.

“i’m sorry, i should’ve called,” you concede, setting down your briefcase next to the umbrella stand as you manage to peel off your jacket and hat the best you can with hyewon still lingering around you.

“yes, you should’ve called. but can you at least explain what you were up to for the last twenty hours that you’re completely unaccounted for?” jungwon says and you’re taken aback for a moment. yes, it was irresponsible of you to get that drunk in a foreign country. and yes, it was very kind of jungwon and hyewon to extend their home to you considering the history between you two. 

but you were also an adult woman who was free to do what she pleased, according to your own free will. you were a neuroscientist for crying out loud. you were more than capable of making intelligent decisions for yourself.

…is what you wish you could say.

you just sigh and shake your head, hanging the jacket and hat up on the coatrack. “i’m sorry jungwon. the neuro department had a dinner last night and i had a few too many to drink. a coworker took me back to their place.”

jungwon doesn’t seem to be appeased by this answer and begins to start questioning even further but hyewon thankfully cuts into the conversation, latching her arm around yours as she guides you to the bedroom you were using. 

“come on, you should get some food and a nice hot shower in you. i can’t imagine how tired you must be right now,” hyewon says, turning around to undoubtedly shoot jungwon a death stare when he starts to protest behind you.

“thank you,” you whisper when the two of you have moved far away enough from the overprotective man standing in the foyer.

“don’t mention it,” hyewon says, but it’s clear that the conversation is far from over when she closes the door behind her when the two of you reach the guest bedroom.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, trying not to think about the fact that the bedspread that you’d been using for the past three months suddenly felt so much less comfortable than you remember it being as you sit down on the bed. hyewon wrings her hands, clearly unsure how to bring up whatever was on her mind.

“i got a phone call from my cousin. i’m not particularly close to him or anything - so i’m sure you can imagine my surprise when i got the call,” she begins and you start to grow worried as she seems to contemplate every word that leaves her lips. 

you nod, wanting to give her the space to approach the topic however she felt most comfortable.

“he mentioned that you had left the dinner with riki, one of the last year residents. mind you, he was drunk out of his mind and he said that riki was probably just making sure that you sober up and get home safe. i just know riki’s reputation so i wanted to talk to you about it. or at least let you know that i’m here if you want to talk to me about it,” she says finally, looking up tentatively. “i didn’t want to tell jungwon because you know he gets about people he feels protective over.”

you just look at her, not quite sure what to say. “right…”

“yeah. that’s all i really wanted to talk about,” hyewon concludes, wrapping her cardigan around her lithe frame a little tighter.

you nod, processing this new information that had been added to the equation. “can i ask what you meant by riki’s reputation?” 

hyewon bites her lips as she contemplates for a moment. “i mean, from what my cousin has told me, riki has a bit of a reputation as a playboy. i don’t know how true it is - and i also know that my cousin is very prone to exaggerating things to make them seem cooler but i figured it was better to tell you than find out that you had no clue later on.”

“i didn’t,” you whisper, a hot rush of shame rushing up your shame. 

“what?”

“i didn’t know that riki had that kind of reputation,” you explain, swallowing with great difficulty as it feels as though some obstruction was forcing your throat shut. “i didn’t realize that. i mean, i worked with the man for what, three months? i must’ve really been living in a bubble these past few months.”

but even as you speak, you find yourself more confused than ever. what did it matter if riki had this reputation? riki was a grown man and could have relations with whoever he pleased and however he pleased. you had no stake, claim, or even reason to wish for anything over him. 

and yet there’s a whisper of a certain green-eyed monster sitting on your shoulder that you have to physically shiver to shake off, unsure of why it was there in the first place.

“i wouldn’t take it too seriously. i just wanted to let you know since - uh - it seems that the two of you are rather close,” hyewon says, trying to backpedal and take back her words. you just shake your head, offering hyewon a bitter smile.

“thanks for letting me know, hyewon.”

[seoul, 1984]

“hey, are you alright?” sunghoon asked, shaking you out of your contemplation. you were sprawled out on his couch, exhausted after another grueling day of talking to people who thought of you as much as they thought of a piece of gum stuck on their shoes. patients and fellow doctors alike.

“i’m fine,” you offered with a smile, accepting a cup of coffee that sunghoon offers you.

“you know this is the third all-nighter you’ve pulled this week, right?” he reminded you and you just nodded tiredly.

“don’t worry about it. i signed up for this,” you sighed and sumin rustled from the other side of you, adjusting so that she was facing you as she spoke.

“yeah…but did jungwon?” she inquired carefully. you and sunghoon both tensed up alike at this. jay’s eyebrows were furrowed, clearly wary of what she was going to say.

“i’m sorry - what does that mean?” sunghoon demanded and sumin just shrugged, taking a sip of her own coffee.

“i mean, you knew that you were going to be working long hours and everything but it kinda feels like jungwon was left in the dark about all of it,” she explained and you looked at her in shock.

“he knew what y/n was signing up for. he was the one who pushed her to apply to medical school. he gave up on korea university to go to seoul national university with y/n so that they could both work on getting her into medical school,” jay fought back and for some reason, it feels like your vision is tunneling as the tensions in the room start to rise.

sumin rolled her eyes as jay spoke, and it was clear that wasn’t the first time they’d fought about this very topic.

“yeah. and then he couldn’t get a job for six months because all of his connections preferred a candidate from korea university,” she reprimanded and you’re stunned by the anger in her voice.

“sumin, did jungwon say something to you? it feels like you’re kinda saying things deliberately but i’m just not sure where it’s coming from,” you retorted. sunghoon sat down next to you, his grip on his coffee mug rather tense.

sumin set down her cup of coffee on the table in front of the two of you, silent as she chose her words.

“it’s just…don’t you realize how much jungwon has given up for you? he chose the same university as you to support your goals and ambitions. he fights with his parents about you spending long hours at the hospital. he pushes off his own wants and needs for you. and he even gave up on marrying in his twenties like he dreamed of because he knew that you wouldn’t be ready to even think about marriage until you started fellowship. and then the only time that he really feels how important he is in your life is when you list him as your emergency contact. you don’t call him while you’re at the hospital. you don’t have the energy for dates.

“even now, you’re only sitting here because heeseung emotionally blackmailed you into being here because we haven’t seen you in four months, y/n. can you believe that? we all live within twenty minutes of each other by walking distance and you haven’t even called anyone. it’s either we reach out to spend time with you or we don’t even see you.

“i can’t even imagine how tired jungwon must be. he put in all of this effort - he changed his entire life just for you and it’s just not fair to see him get bogged down by all of the realities of how much effort he puts in to treat you well and how much you just don’t do the same.”

“i do love him,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. sumin looked at you with a sympathetic look but it was clear that she felt no mercy as sunghoon just gave her a death glare and wrapped an arm around you loosely to ground you to the situation instead of being lost in your own mind and insecurities like sunghoon knew you tended to do.

“i believe you, y/n. but i just don’t think that it’s enough for him. and to be honest, there are a lot of other things that i think that he’s so kind to just brush past in your relationship but i really don’t think that it’s my place to say any of that,” she concluded, picking up her coffee mug once more.

“i think that’s quite enough. you’ve said a lot of things that weren’t your place to say,” jay said finally, getting up rather abruptly. he stormed into the kitchen and you exchanged a look with sunghoon, and you left sunghoon’s side to go talk to jay, knowing that it was best sunghoon that stayed with sumin right now than you.

“hey. you okay?” you asked quietly, watching carefully as jay stared out of the tiny window above the kitchen sink. jay was silent, but you knew that he didn’t mean to use the silence as a weapon. the two of you were similar in that; silence was a friend, not a foe and you and him both knew that you being there was enough of a comfort for both of you to try to sort through your thoughts.

“i’m sorry about that,” he said softly, loud enough for you to hear but not loud enough to drown out the tension in the other room. “i wish i had an excuse for her behavior but she’s been acting the same way with me these last few weeks.”

“i’m sorry to hear that, jay,” you consoled him gently, sighing as you set down your coffee mug. “it’s not easy to be in a relationship for so many different reasons. sometimes…you learn that it’s best to call it quits than to try to force it.”

jay looked at you through the corner of his eye carefully before shifting his gaze back to the stars. “you really want to call it quits on an eight year long relationship? you think that’s fair?”

you figured that it was a rhetorical question at the time so you didn’t answer, even though in retrospect, you probably should’ve.

you probably should have told the truth about just how much pain you felt every time you had to leave jungwon’s sleeping figure to creep out in the middle of the night and head to the hospital. about how you used to cry yourself to sleep in the on call room when you missed anniversary after birthday after promotion after the next reunion with friends. explained how you loved them all beyond belief but the only way you’d ever be able to win over your mother’s family was to show them just how successful your grandmother and grandfather had raised you to be.

there was so many truths that should’ve come out in that moment. perhaps if they had, jay would’ve helped you explain the situation to jungwon and heeseung, who were late to the reunion due to work. maybe it would’ve pushed him to be more honest with sumin about their relationship’s troubles, and maybe jay and sumin wouldn’t have broken up three months later. 

maybe when jungwon came home that night with news about a promotion to the tokyo office, you wouldn’t have encouraged him. and maybe that gray house with the wood and emerald green interior would be yours and his.

but you didn’t. and the price you paid came at the expense of your friends, your lover, and every bit of warmth left in seoul.

[tokyo, 1988]

“you’re avoiding me,” riki says, echoing his statements from just a few weeks ago. this time, he doesn’t knock. doesn’t offer you any pleasantries about his day or even sound slightly amused by the way that you’ve been dodging him. you don’t look at him, pipetting the buffer solution into the tube carefully. 

“you’re not my resident anymore, riki,” you remind him, ejecting the pipette tip into the little bucket before sticking a fresh one onto the pipette.

“since two days ago, y/n. you’ve been avoiding me for the past week and a half!” riki exclaims, running a frustrated hand through his hair

“i had no assignments for you to get done. i already submitted a glowing recommendation if you choose to do neurology research and patient care,” you offer in rebuttal, but you know that once again, you’re doing everything to avoid addressing the actual issue. 

“you’re not being fair, y/n,” he says, and although you can hear the pain and just how fed up he is, you still can’t bring yourself to give him the closure that you know that he’s seeking.

“you said that we didn’t have to talk about it if i didn’t want to talk about it,” you say softly, carefully moving the tubes over to the freezer to chill the specimens over night. 

“i said we could pretend it never happened,” he corrects, although it’s hard to believe the kindness in his words when he says them through gritted teeth. 

“so let’s do that!” you exclaim, ripping your gloves off.

“yes, but that means that we have to be able to exist in the same space, y/n!” riki yells back. you give him a hard stare before turning away.

“just because you have practice doing this doesn’t mean i do,” you murmur under your breath, hoping he wouldn’t hear you. but alas, riki catches it because as you try to leave the workbench, riki corners you against the wall, so that you’re forced to look at him.

“what is that supposed to mean?” riki says, his voice dangerously low. you try to duck out of sight, not wanting to have this conversation here, where either of the two other professors who use this lab space could come back.

“forget about it, riki. i didn’t mean to say that,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

“didn’t mean to say it or didn’t mean that i would hear it?” he presses.

you squirm. “what difference does it make? either way, it doesn’t matter.”

“it makes all the difference in the world, y/n. if you didn’t mean it, then you’re so stressed because of something that you’re just saying things you don’t mean. if you did mean it, then there’s something you want to talk to me about that you’re just not brave enough to raise,” riki retorts.

“brave enough?” you pause your squirming, and for some inexplicable reason, a wave of fury flushes over you. “don’t you dare talk to me about being brave enough for something, riki.”

you push your finger into his chest, angry beyond belief. “i came to a foreign country by myself because i couldn’t bear being in the same country that i lost all the parents i’ve ever had. my mom, my dad, my grandfather, and then my grandmother. and i’m still here, trying to do my best to stay afloat and not break.”

riki is silent, staring at you in shock, but you’re not done yet.

“i’ve lost so much, riki. i’ve lost my parents. my grandparents. jungwon. my friends. i’ve lost so many people for reasons that were completely out of my control. so i started to just push everyone away! the second that i feel like i start to want to see someone in my life, i push them away before they go ahead and leave on their own.

“so when i woke up in your bed, not knowing what the hell happened the night before, what do you think was going through my head? i didn’t know what i did with you, what i told you, or even how i got there in the first place. i don’t even know why anything that happened happened. i don’t know why i asked you to come to the dinner. i don’t know why i couldn’t even get those words out, to ask you to come.

“i don’t know why my heart feels like it’s going to fall out of its chest when i see jungwon at home and then i come here to see you and suddenly, i get the same damn feeling. i don’t know why i started stumbling over my words the day we first met. i don’t know why i’ve worked this hard for this position and i lost so much in the process, only for it to somehow make sense when i met you.

“you frustrate me beyond belief for reasons that i kept telling myself i didn’t know, when the reality was that i just didn’t want to accept the truth that i possibly could’ve started to like someone. the last person i liked was the love of my life! the man that i had dated for eight years. the man that i thought i would get married to. what the hell do you think that i felt when i got that funny feeling in my stomach when i saw you being so…charismatic? handsome? with that stupidly probing look in your eyes, like you could read me to filth? only for hyewon to tell me that i’m one of maybe fifty women who also feel like that! to know that whatever the hell i might feel about you was probably completely not reciprocated!”

your chest heaving, and you’re painfully aware of how crazed you must look in this moment. hair in every which way from the way you’d been tugging at it in frustration. eyes wide and teary with rage and confusion. the slight goggles line on your forehead from a good four hours with them on. the way your lips are swollen from the way you’d been biting at them all day.

yet, he just looks at you, eyes fixated on your own. 

almost as though he can sense another rant coming on, he lifts his hands to cup your cheeks.

and suddenly, his lips are on yours. soft. insistent. but gentle. sweet. tender. you want to push him away, yell at him for doing that. but you can’t. even as your lips don’t move, shaking as you try to process everything. even as you raise your arms to push him away, to shield yourself from the vulnerability that comes with being so intimate with someone, you just can’t. 

even when you break, so damn tired of fighting him away.

even as your arms snake around his neck to pull him even closer, feeling the warmth radiating off of him.

his hands drift from your cheeks to your waist, pressing your body directly against his own. it feels as though all of the anger that you’d been harboring was slowly starting to melt away the longer he held you in his arms, enough pressure to keep you anchored to him but gentle enough to let you run away at any moment.

but you don’t. you find that your heart is tired of running and so you let it rest here, in his embrace.

riki doesn’t push you away, even when he pulls away. he lets out a soft sigh as he catches his breath, resting his forehead against your own.

“are you still angry with me?” he asks, eyes traveling across your face, as though trying to commit every inch to his memory.

“yes,” you whisper, although you’re well aware that there isn’t a shred of anger in your voice.

“that’s okay,” he laughs softly, bundling you up in his arms. “now that i know you feel the same way towards me that i feel towards you.”

“what about all the other women you’ve used the same line with?” you retort drily. riki finally pulls away from you to ensure that you can see the sincerity oozing from his eyes as he speaks. 

“i’m not sure where i got this playboy reputation from, y/n. it’s true that i was flirtatious with women in the past but i’m not a player. i don’t do one night stands. i had a phase when i was in college but i’ve grown out of it. my reputation followed me into medical school and i never felt the need to correct anyone because i never liked anyone enough to want to dispel the rumors. but hear me loud and clear when i say this: i have never loved someone like i love you.”

you can’t help the tears that gather in your eyes again, and suddenly even his gaze feels too intimate for you. you look away, trying to brush away the tears that slip from their confines.

“i don’t think that i can love you, riki…not yet…” you warble. riki just smiles a sad little smile as he steps closer, using the pads of his thumbs to brush away your tears.

“that’s okay, y/n. for you? i’ll wait until whenever you’re ready. i’ve got enough for the both of us.”

[seoul, 1987]

“you know, since jungwon moved on and is getting married, you could also put yourself out there again,” sunghoon said, confiscating your soju bottle. you didn’t even have the energy to fight him, letting him steal your solace from you without so much as a peep.

“i don’t even have enough time to take care of myself. where would i get the time to go date someone?” you lamented but sunghoon looked neither bemused nor sympathetic.

“you drink yourself half to death and then max out your hours at the hospital very much voluntarily, y/n. i’m not throwing you a pity party here,” sunghoon said firmly. you couldn’t dispute his statements. he was right. the death of your grandfather and breaking up with jungwon were both things that happened to you somewhat out of your control. the alcoholism and working yourself to the bone at the hospital was all your own doing.

but it just wasn’t fair.

“did you see the picture of her in the wedding invitation?” you asked sullenly, slumped over sunghoon’s table. sunghoon just stared at you for a moment before sighing, sitting down in the seat next to your own.

“i did,” he admitted.

“she’s gorgeous.”

sunghoon was silent. he agreed.

“i want to move on, sunghoon. you think i don’t hurt? i might’ve broken up with him but it wasn’t because i loved him any less than i loved him when we started dating. i honestly love him even more than that! you know that’s why i broke up with him. and you know how much my grandfather meant to me. after everything that happened with my mother’s side of the family, he still was the one to fight with all of them and cut all of them off when i landed on his doorstep.”

“i know.”

“so then why won’t you let me be sad, sunghoon? why won’t you just let me ruin my own life when i’ve already lost two of the most important people i had!” you cried, but even through your tears, you could feel how ridiculous you were being. 

“i love you, y/n. you’re one of the most important people i have. and i refuse to make that past tense.” so simply. that was it. sunghoon loved you and you loved him. he was the brother you’d always wished you had. the family that you wished you had when you saw other children bring their brothers and sisters to the park to play with them. 

sunghoon took one look at you before covering your hands with his own. “would you let me do this to myself?”

you sniffled. “no.”

he finally cracked a smile at the speed of your response. “so i’m not going to let this happen to you. you’re my little sister, right? i’m gonna protect you.” 

and that was how you finally started healing.

[tokyo, 1988]

“do you have any christmas plans next week?” hyewon asks. it’s a rare feat to have all three of you sitting together for dinner, with jungwon often coming home late due to the end of the year projects at his office. it also didn’t help that you had taken on more patient care work, meaning that your hours were all over the place, trying to treat patients and also complete your research in time for the holidays.

“not really,” you say. “do you two?”

jungwon and hyewon exchange a look before jungwon clears his throat, leaning forward in his chair.

“we were going to hyewon’s uncle’s place in the evening…” jungwon trails off and you can surmise the parts that the two of them are struggling to say.

“go. please. i am a big girl and am more than capable of spending time by myself,” you laugh. more time to get some paperwork done, you think. maybe even spend some time calling sunghoon, since he’d also been very busy with the end of the year projects he had to complete.

“i know…but still. i remember how much christmas meant to your grandmother. i don’t want you to feel like you’re alone on the holidays,” jungwon explains gently and your breath catches in your throat for a moment before you’re able to swallow down the pain.

“oh, don’t worry about that. grandma always wanted me to be a successful doctor more than she wanted me to be a family woman because of everything that happened with my mother’s…you know what. don’t worry about it. i’m gonna be just fine, trust me,” you rasp, picking up your chopsticks again. hopefully shoving more food down your throat would make you feel less like throwing up.

“honestly y/n, i’m more than fine with skipping this dinner if you want to do something together instead,” hyewon says earnestly, but you just shake your head.

“no, please, i don’t want you to miss out on spending time with your family on my account. i heard christmas is a couple’s holiday in japan anyway, right?” you say, trying your best to keep from sounding too sardonic. “besides, i’m not going to be alone.”

hyewon nearly falls out of her seat. “you’re not gonna - do you have a boyfriend?”

you think for a moment before shaking your head. “not a boyfriend.”

“then what? if you know that christmas is a couple’s holiday, and you’re not going to be alone, that means that you’re in a relationship - right?” jungwon interrogates. 

you shrug. “you don’t have to have a boyfriend to be in a relationship.”

“well, then do you have a girlfriend?”

“no.”

“significant other.”

“…jungwon.”

“so then what do you have?”

“i don’t know. we’re taking things slow. it’s only been two weeks. i’m not ready to put any labels on this just yet,” you say casually but your explanation doesn’t seem to satisfy jungwon, who just chews on his shoga-yaki rather intensely.

“uh…but it’s a something?” hyewon asks tentatively. you pause before nodding slowly, tapping your chopsticks on the plate as you think.

“it’s a something,” you agree. “but i’m being very serious when i say that i want to take things slow. i’m a bit out of practice and this is the first time i’ve liked someone since…”

suddenly the wasabi in front of the three of you looks incredibly interesting. hyewon clears her throat, the first to recover. 

“well, whatever it is, i hope it makes you happy, y/n. you deserve a lifetime of happiness,” she says, scooting out of her chair to start putting the leftovers away. jungwon looks at you with a certain look in his eyes - one that you know all too well.

you saw it quite often right before you broke up with each other. 

the feeling that you’re being pulled in opposite directions from each other.

“you’re too sweet, hyewon,” you say, unable to take your eyes off of jungwon - who holds your gaze. he wants to say something - you can tell by the way his grip on his chopsticks grows just that much firmer. you wait, and it feels as though the tension is physically rising to suffocate you…and then jungwon’s grip grows lax again as he turns his gaze back down to his nearly empty plate.

“oh, speaking of big changes,” you begin, getting up slowly. “i have some news for the two of you. i haven’t said anything yet because nothing was finalized but i think that there are only a few steps left.”

hyewon turns off the sink she was washing dishes at, turning to you with a worried look. “is everything okay y/n?”

you nod. “everything’s more than okay - you guys remember the apartment i went to see a few weeks ago? well, i just got my clearances back today and the landlord said we could move forward with the process! i’ll be out of your hair in less than a month, at the maximum! it’s in azabu, so the other side of shibuya but the commute to work is much shorter.”

hyewon leaps forward to wrap you with a tight hug. “that’s so amazing, y/n! you’re never a bother for us but it must be so exciting to have your own place and everything now!”

you laugh and hug her back. but even as you do so, you are distinctly aware of jungwon still sitting at the table, silent. hyewon seems to register this as well by the way that she peels herself off of you to look at him.

“jungwon, aren’t you so happy for her?” hyewon asks, her arms still resting on your own. jungwon doesn’t respond, instead putting the dishes in the sink and then heading upstairs wordlessly, not once looking at you or hyewon.

[seoul, 1984]

“you want to break up?” there’s no anger in his voice. no surprise, no disbelief, nothing. 

you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

“it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” you could hear the sheer exhaustion in your own voice.

jungwon sighed, running a hand through his hair as he contemplates. “i don’t know.”

“when did you start waking up and knowing that this wasn’t going to work?”

“i don’t know.”

he sounded equally as tired. you swallowed, almost afraid to ask the question that had been pressing on your mind since sumin had confronted you two weeks ago.

“do you still love me?” you ventured. jungwon looked at you as though you’d asked him if you were suddenly glowing and bright blue. and for the first time since you’d sat him down half an hour ago, saying that you needed to talk, there’s an emotion other than tiredness jungwon’s face.

“i love you so much it hurts, y/n. but sometimes, love isn’t enough.”

[tokyo, 1988]

“what are your plans for christmas, riki?” you ask. you don’t look at him, casually flipping through the pages of your literature. not a word on those pages register in your mind as you wait for riki’s answer.

riki hums, tying his shoelaces. it’s been a long day for both of you - riki was officially in the surgery rotation and was being pummeled left and right with long hours and back to back surgeries. his suspicion was that haruto was taking out his anger on his resident but you thought that haruto was too nice to do something that petty.

“i’m not sure. my parents don’t really care for christmas so…i guess it depends on what the girl i’m seeing wants to do,” he says smugly. you can feel the heat rise up your spine and settle on your cheeks, ducking out of sight from riki before he takes notice.

but it’s clear that riki had spoken with a clear goal in mind, with the way that he smirks from across the desk.

“uh, that’s nice,” you manage, clearing your throat. “and if she wants to just stay at home?”

riki shrugs. “that’s fine by me. i’m not scheduled for christmas so i’m alright with doing whatever you’d like.”

you nod, setting down the papers that were blocking your face once you’ve managed to compose yourself. you’re about to say something (perhaps another quip at the ‘girl riki was seeing’) when a wave of nausea washes over you, forcing you to grip the handles of your chair as you try to fend off the wave.

riki looks at you with concern, watching you keel over as you try to take deep breaths to keep yourself from emptying your lunch all over your desk.

“y/n? are you alright?” he asks tentatively, getting up to squat down in front of you. his brown eyes are full of palpable concern and you try to muster a smile, waving him off. 

“i’m fine,” you manage. “i’ve just been having these bouts of nausea lately. i think that the sashimi i had a couple days ago has been taking a toll on my body.”

riki doesn’t laugh at your attempt at lightheartedness, instead calculating in his mind. “y/n…you know, it’s been around four weeks since we…”

you lift your head slightly. “yeah?”

riki takes a deep breath, taking one of your hands in both of his. “did you get your period this month?”

you reel backwards, snatching your hand away from riki in the process. “don’t be crazy riki. it’s food poisoning, not a child.”

riki raises his hand in surrender, still kneeling on the floor.��

“i believe you!” he says, but you can tell that he’s not fully convinced. “but wouldn’t it be better to be safe than sorry?”

you just stare at him, unable to process anything all of a sudden. you had been having pretty bad migraines the past week. and your appetite was suddenly nowhere nearly as robust as it used to be. but you had chalked all of it up to working too hard over the past few weeks, trying to tie up all the lose ends before the end of the year. 

no. all of that was just due to stress. there was just no way that you were pregnant. you were dr. l/n y/n, for heaven’s sake! there’s just no way that you would be pregnant of all things. not after you’d done everything to run away from a family, there’s just no way that the universe could be so cruel to give you the one thing that you were the most afraid of.

but something about the way that riki was looking at you made you feel as though there was a cause for being concerned.

“i - we didn’t use protection?” you ask incredulously. riki pauses before slowly nodding his head and then shaking it.

“we did…the first two times,” he says, somewhat sheepishly. and even as you’re scared shitless, you can’t help the startled giggle that escapes you.

“riki, i need you to tell me exactly what happened that night.” your voice is serious, but not unkind and riki sighs before getting up, dragging the chair on the other side of the desk to the side that you were on.

he holds your hand once more before taking a deep breath, and recounting what had happened that night.

[tokyo, 1988]

“i’m not drunk, i swear,” you promised, but riki was thoroughly unconvinced by the way that you couldn’t walk in a straight line. riki was nowhere near sober (in fact, he was vaguely sure that he was also on the verge of blacking out) but at least he could tell his left from right. with about 10% confidence. 

and somehow, that was better than you were faring.

“yeah, and i don’t have the world’s fattest one sided crush on you,” he snorted, somewhat under his breath and somewhat for you to hear.

it’s clear that even if your occipital lobe might not be functioning at 100% capacity, your auditory system was sharper than ever. you pause, stumbling into riki a little bit.

“you what?” you asked, hiccuping slightly as you gasp. “did you, at the ripe old age of twenty-seven years, old use the word crush?”

riki rolled his eyes. “that’s what you’re fixated on?”

you giggled. “it’d be so beyond stupid of me if i never noticed the chemistry between us.”

this took riki aback, sending him stumbling into the alleyway behind him. in any circumstance, riki would be wary of being in such an alleyway in the middle of the night in the dead center of tokyo but he’s too fixated on what you said.

“you knew?” he whispered incredulously. you shrugged, clearly not understanding the weight of the words you were saying.

“that you had a ‘crush’ on me? not really. but i always felt kinda attracted to you - like magnets, you know? i figured it wasn’t one sided if the tension was that strong.” you said it so nonchalantly, as though you were reminded riki that there are 365 days in a year or that uracil is found in RNA, not DNA. 

the next thing riki remembered is the look in your eyes when he drew closer and the gasp when his lips were on yours.

after that? nothing.

[tokyo, 1988}

you look at riki, trying to gauge whether he’s messing with you or being completely serious. “you don’t remember anything after that?”

riki shakes his head. he ducks quickly to avoid the angry swat you aim in his direction. “hey! it’s not like i was sober either!”

“but you remembered enough to know that we…you know…more than once!” you splutter, and riki lifts up a finger as if to protest.

“i only know that because of contextual reasoning, actually. i found the condom wrappers in the trash later but i know we went to sleep around four or five in the morning because my alarm went off at five and you nearly fell out of bed because you thought it was a fire alarm,” riki says, eyebrows drawn tightly together as he tries to piece together what happened that night.

you let out an exasperated sigh. “if we were both that drunk, i can’t imagine we were making all the best decisions regarding sexual safety.”

riki’s hand latches itself back onto your own. he looks up at you earnestly, sincerity oozing from him. “i mean this so genuinely, y/n: no matter what happens, we’ll figure it out, okay? pregnant or not, we’ll figure this out. just promise me one thing.”

you look at him, almost afraid of what he was going to ask of you.

“what?”

“just promise me that you won’t run away. promise me that you’ll let me be by your side. promise that you’ll actually lean on me. promise me that we can figure this out together,” riki asks, emotion thick in his voice. you blink, shocked that that’s what he wanted you to promise. 

he could’ve walked away at any moment. pregnancy or not, you knew that the blame always fell on the women. especially in asia? pregnant? when you and riki weren’t even in an established relationship, much less not married? you knew that the implications would be enough to make you lose your job, just for the absolute tarnishing of your reputation.

but riki wants to be here with you, and take the fall with you? the fall. oh. you’re gonna lose your job. and riki’s gonna lose his job for standing by you. and then…and then it’ll all go to shit. all of the things you’d worked so hard for your entire life would be for nothing. all the sacrifices you’d made to get here would be moot. everything your grandparents gave up for you to become a doctor would be meaningless.

riki seems to register that you’re starting to spiral by the way your breathing grows more rapid, as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. he gets up, and gently guides you into his embrace as he leans over to hold you to his chest. his chest is firm, and so is his grip on you, but in the way that a snug sock might be. firm but not demanding. gentle and reassuring. maybe not like a sock then.

“it’s okay, y/n. i promise,” he whispers into your hair. and suddenly, it’s as though he’s unlocked something inside you as the tears start to flow, soaking riki’s button up shirt. 

“how can you say that?” you sniffle through your tears and riki’s heart seems to physically break at the pain in your voice. he might not know what you’ve gone through for you to seem so distraught or unbelieving of the fact that everything was gonna be okay but riki made a solemn vow to himself in that moment.

he was going to make sure that you never had to doubt that he would be there with you. that you’d have to struggle to make everything okay on your own.

“because i’m here with you, y/n. and i promise that i will be for as long as you’ll have me.”

riki doesn’t move as you just cry for the next twenty minutes.

[seoul, 1985]

you sat, almost numb to the coldness of the hospital chair as you tried to commit your grandfather’s every minuscule movement to memory. your grandfather had always seemed so strong - as though he’d been made out of the thunderclouds that were threatening torrential rain outside. he was tall and still fairly muscular - remnants from his youth as a farmer’s son. he always had a bright smile and a looked like he hadn’t aged past forty well into his seventies.

it was so strange seeing him laying there in that hospital bed. he looked so small and fragile. completely opposite from the grandfather that you remember teaching you how to ride a bike or write a check. the grandfather who’d knock on your door and bring fruits while you were studying and didn’t have time to eat.

it felt wrong.

your grandmother came back into the room with two cups of coffee, extending one out to you. you sat up in your chair as you accepted it and she sat down next to you, watching the gentle rise and fall of her husband’s chest.

“i can’t believe he has cancer, grandma,” you said, unable to keep the worry out of your voice. your grandmother looked at you before looking back at her husband.

“i told him that those cigarettes would be the end of him,” she sighed, but you could hear the pain in her voice. “but he was a stubborn old man and he always used to tell me that they were his one solace when you weren’t at home.”

a feeling of guilt sat low in your belly, like it was churning its sickness into you. 

“i should’ve come home more often,” you whispered but your grandmother waved you off.

“we wanted you to work hard and become a doctor. it was your mother’s dream, after she saw her sister become a dentist but things never really worked out,” your grandmother sighed. you paused, your breath catching as you turned to your grandmother slowly.

“my mother had a sister? i thought you told me that you only had mom and that’s it,” you said. your grandmother paused, as though she were deciding to rectify her slip or to smooth it over. the truth won out as your grandmother sighed, leaning back in her chair. you watched with bated breath, shocked at the possibility of having a family that your grandparents had withheld from you.

your grandmother kept her gaze on the cup of coffee in front of her.

“your mother had a sister. she was from your grandfather’s first marriage.” your grandmother took a long sip of her coffee as she waited for you to at least somewhat recover from her shocking revelation.

“what happened to her? i knew that grandpa had a wife but i didn’t know that they had a child,” you spluttered. your grandmother nodded.

“they had a child. your mother and her were very close when they were children, even though they had different mothers. her mother died when she was young so i was like her real mother. and it was all alright until she went to college. your mother must’ve been fifteen or sixteen when her sister went to college.

“i don’t know what happened. it was as though she went as a happy, loving child and came back so broody and snappy all the time. that was around the time that your mother and her sister started growing distant. eventually, she stopped coming home.

“she started to cut us all out slowly, only keeping in touch with her father. and then one day, she showed up on our doorstep with a wedding invitation with some rich boy. his parents had looked at our family background and offered her an ultimatum: denounce her family or be unable to marry their son.”

your grandmother sighed, looking down in her lap. had she always looked so weathered? the lines in her forehead seemed so prominent all of a sudden.

“she chose the boy. she wrote to your grandfather a few times but that was about it. and then your mother grew to become an english teacher and got married to your father and got pregnant with you. she always missed her sister, no matter she tried to hide it. she invited her to her wedding but she never came. i think she had someone drop off congratulatory cash though.

“your grandfather was so upset by that that he forbade any of us from speaking to her - not that that was possible. he wrote her out of the will and never allowed us to speak about her. but your mother, she had a heart that was too soft for her own good. after - after she died giving birth to you and your father died in that car crash on the way to the hospital, we found out that she wanted you to grow up under her sister’s care if something happened to her and her husband.

“the last time we saw your mother’s sister was when she came to our house to say that she wouldn’t adopt you because her in-laws were too obsessed with pedigree. they said that they didn’t want to adopt someone who was born to poor parents and…a child who had ‘killed’ her parents before she was even born. it didn’t help that your father also didn’t have his parents and didn’t have a huge sum of cash to fall back on. your grandfather was so furious at her words that he held her by her elbow and threw her out of the house.”

the tears streamed down your cheeks silently as you listened, unable to even think straight as you tried to process her words. your grandmother chuckled drily, shaking her head.

“that old soul loved you from the moment he laid eyes on you. said that he lost his daughter for only three minutes because she was finding her way back as you,” your grandmother said and you choked as you tried to catch your breath, winded by the realization of just how much your grandparents had sacrificed for you.

“i can’t believe you didn’t tell me this,” you said, unable to speak properly because of the tears clogging your throat. your grandmother tried to smile, rubbing your back gently.

“what good would’ve that been? you are our angel, y/n. our blessing. we got to experience being parents all over again because of you. but that’s why your grandfather and i always pushed you so hard to be a successful doctor. we wanted you to do everything your mother couldn’t do…and prove to them that pedigree has nothing to do with the amount of money you have, but the way you grow,” your grandmother said, and you leaned into her warmth as she continued to rub your back.

“i will grandma. i am going to be so successful that grandpa is going to be able to walk down the streets with his head held high because that family is going to weep because of how successful i’d become,” you promised, eyes red with determination.

and even though in hindsight it was probably just coincidence, there was a slight smile on your sleeping grandfather’s face as you grit your teeth and set your sights on ambitions higher than the clouds in the skies.

your grandmother swore, two weeks later, that that determination is what finally allowed him to rest easy when he closed his eyes for the last time.

[tokyo, 1988]

riki looks at you, beyond shocked at what you’ve revealed to him as the two of you sit on his couch at his apartment. the two of you had decided to move from the hospital to his apartment so that you could take a walk watching the tokyo sunset to calm down your emotions a bit after buying the pregnancy test. you laugh through the tears streaming down your face as you fan yourself.

“that’s the first time i’ve ever told that actually. i can’t believe how much burden has been lifted off of my shoulders by talking about that,” you say. riki is still frozen as he tries to process this incredible amount of information that you’ve disclosed with him.

“i - i don’t know what to say, y/n,” he says honestly. “i am so thankful you trust me enough to tell me though.”

you brush at your cheeks to wipe away the tears. “i felt like i had to explain my spiral from earlier.”

riki finally moves, raising his own hand to cup your cheek and brush away your tears. “you don’t have to justify yourself to me, y/n. but thank you for telling me. it makes a lot more sense why you told me you were so protective about your job…and your hesitation with pregnancy.”

“yeah, having your mom die during pregnancy and then being called a killer for her dying in labor doesn’t really prove to be a great way to embrace motherhood,” you eke out, failing to keep the dark dryness out of your tone.

riki lifts his other arm, twisting so that he was facing you as he sat, and cups your other cheek. “y/n, if you take that pregnancy test and it’s positive and you don’t want this child, i am here for you. it’s one hundred percent your decision and my approval or lack of it means absolutely jack shit but just know that if you want to abort this baby, we will abort this baby. you are the most important person here right now and i want to do whatever you want to do.”

you nod, unable to come up with the words to express your thankfulness. not just at the way riki has placed so much of the deciding power in your hands, but also because of how gentle and kind he has been throughout the entire time you’ve been spiraling.

“i wish i could tell you how much that means to me,” you whisper gently, leaning into riki’s warm touch for just a moment longer before taking a deep breath and pulling away.

“you okay?” he asks, slowly retracting his arm. you hesitate for just a moment before resting your hand on his arm, trying to offer him a comforting smile.

“i’m perfect, riki. i - i think i should take the test. it’ll take half an hour to get the results anyway,” you swallow and riki just watches you carefully before slowly nodding.

“alright. well. you know where the bathroom is - let me know if you need anything, okay?” he says softly. you nod, but you can’t hear him well over the pounding of your heart as you slowly make your way to the restroom.

the process itself takes a lot less time than you’d expected. between opening the package and peeing on the stick, you manage to finish the whole thing in less than seven minutes (which you know for a fact because you count out each individual minute for the last four minutes). the rest of the time that you’re in the bathroom (six minutes, that you also count out) is you biting your nails, trying to figure out how to break this to jungwon.

whether it was negative or positive, there was just something that seems to have clicked when you were sitting with riki on his couch, talking about things that you’d never had the courage to talk about prior to this evening.

with jungwon, things had always been so easy - everything just happened because it felt like it should happen. there was no hardship until the moment that the two of you grew up, and realized just how much you would have to sacrifice for each other to stay together. it felt like when push came to shove, the two of you had been so used to the comfort of always having each other’s presence that you never truly imagined how difficult it would be to adjust outside of that life.

but with riki, every step seemed to be the universe offering you a new life lesson. there was so much growth that came with riki and yet, it felt right. riki never ran away from you, no matter how much you thought you were a burden in his life for all of the unresolved, messed up, jumbled feelings that seemed to weigh you down everyday.

and in the few short weeks you’d been seeing riki, somehow you were presented with more difficult decisions and more conflict than you were exposed to with jungwon over the near decade that the two of you were dating.

and the fact that riki was able to coach you through all of them, despite the fact that he was younger than you, and give you the support that you needed (never mind the near magnetic compulsion you felt towards him) gives you the courage to step out of the restroom.

riki is standing just outside the restroom, back leaned up against the wall as he seems to be reassuring himself quietly, rubbing his thumb over his own knuckles in a rhythmic motion.

“how are you holding up?” you ask quietly, and riki’s head whips towards you when he realizes you’re out of the restroom. he shrugs, running a hand through his hair but you know that there are words he wants to say that are on the tip of his tongue.

“i’m fine,” he says. you nod, almost ready to take this as an answer before a chord of dissonance strikes through your body and you turn around to face him once more.

“are you sure, riki? i mean, this is a big decision for you too,” you say gently. and it’s as though these are the words that riki needs to hear for the dam of his emotions to just break. he looks at you for just a moment, taking in every single inch of your aura as he just stares.

and then he pulls you in for a kiss that feels as though he’s physically trying to mould your soul into his. like he’s trying to transfer every single ounce of his doubt, fear, and love into your brain just by the force of his kiss. 

your hand trails up his arm to cup at his cheek, gently caressing it as riki begins to calm down, his heart rate growing steadier and slower with your touch. he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he tries to steady his breath.

“i’m so scared. but i’m also so ready for this. and maybe our relationship happened all out of order and without convention but i just…i know that there’s something here. something i can’t let go of, y/n. no matter what,” riki whispers.

these words uttered by anyone else, would make you want to run and scream and bury your head in the soil, running far far away. but from riki? it just feels right.

you just look up at him and smile, taking a deep breath. “i’m here for you riki. just as much as you’re here for me.”

riki nods and then pushes the door to the bathroom open, where the pregnancy test is sitting on the counter and you don’t even have to look at the test to know the answer.

instead you just see riki melt into you, wrapping you up in a protective, warm, and vulnerable hug.

it’s positive. 

[tokyo, 1989]

“that’s the last of the boxes, i think,” jungwon huffs, dusting his hands off as he sets down a large cardboard box. you and hyewon had been a little too excited when you’d gone furniture shopping together for your new apartment so the number of boxes that were now lined up against the walls were far too many to count.

“thanks for helping out, jungwon,” you say, offering him a glass of water that he accepts with a tight smile. hyewon was downstairs, in the lobby of the apartment building, picking up the carry out food that you’d ordered to your apartment.

or at least, this was the excuse that she was using to escape from the sure to be nuclear fallout that would emerge after jungwon found out that you were pregnant, which she’d convinced you to reveal today.

you’d told hyewon pretty much right after you’d found out. they’d just come back home from christmas dinner, and hyewon had been looking so light and bubbly.

“you know what, y/n. i wish that you’d get married to that boy soon. i just visited my niece and she is just the most precious person on the planet! i wish i’d get pregnant to have my own bundle of joy but until then, i’m gonna hound you until you have one,” she’d said, folding her formal attire and putting it away in the closet. you didn’t notice in the moment, but she was looking at you with a strange, almost knowing look as she spoke. you hummed, nodding along as you meditated on whether or not to tell her that her wish may be coming true sooner than hyewon might expect.

you glanced at the shut door that led to the bathroom, where jungwon was taking an obnoxiously long shower. 

“hyewon…” you began, a thumb running over your knuckles in an effort to ease your nerves. “i have to tell you something.”

hyewon turned around slowly, her gaze growing serious at the pensiveness in your tone. “is everything alright?”

you nodded, and indicated for her to follow you out of the master bedroom. she might’ve invited you up there to chat but you still didn’t want jungwon to see you speaking in hushed tones with hyewon. he’d been a little distant from you since you told him that you were going to be moving out and you didn’t want to put hyewon in an awkward place if he saw you confiding in her.

not to mention the fact that there was no way in hell that you could even tell jungwon about the pregnancy.

“everything’s fine hyewon. do you wanna drink some hot cocoa with me? i brought some from my date,” you said, trying to calm hyewon down. she nodded, though clearly not satisfied with your secrecy.

the two of you made your way downstairs, each lost in your own thoughts. the entire time that you fix up two mugs of hot cocoa, you’re silent, unsure of what exactly to say to her. 

“are you pregnant?” hyewon was the one to break the silence and you turned to her, shocked. 

“how did you know?” you asked, dumbfounded that she’d known so quickly. hyewon accepts the mug of hot cocoa that you handed her as she thought, trying to find the words to answer your question.

“i’ve known for a while,” she admitted quietly after a few moments of silence. “there’s a glow that you didn’t have before. at first i thought it was because of the man you were dating but it’s almost…softer than that? i don’t know. there’s a maternal energy that you have that is a lot more prevalent now. you’re a lot warmer now.”

there’s a blush on your cheeks as you listened to hyewon. had you truly changed that much? were you that different of a person? in the short time that you were aware of your motherhood, you had never really considered that anyone else would be able to recognize your inner tsunami of emotions.

much less that anyone would be able to tell that you were growing a new life - a thought that was equal parts frightening and beautiful.

“does anyone else know?” she asked, and you’re forced back into the quiet hum of the heating in the background.

“just riki - the father - and you,” you confessed and hyewon nodded, taking a long sip of her hot cocoa.

“does sunghoon know?” she continued. you shook your head, opting to drink from your own cup instead. you’re not sure if it’s the morning sickness or the realization that you need to tell sunghoon but there’s a queasiness in your stomach that doesn’t seem like it’s going to leave anytime soon.

“not yet. and obviously, neither does jungwon,” you said. hyewon nodded, silent as she contemplates your words.

“neither of them are going to react well to this,” she said plainly and while you’re somewhat taken aback at her matter-of-fact statement said so bluntly, you knew that was the truth. seeing the panic on your face, hyewon got up, pausing for just a moment in front of you before wrapping you in a deep hug.

“but even if they don’t, know that i am happy for you. if you want this baby, i will be here for you every step of the way. they’ll come around. they just love you a lot,” hyewon said.

you hoped so.

“hello? earth to y/n?” hyewon says, waving her hand in front of your face.

“sorry, i was just spacing out,” you say, blinking as you’re brought back to the present.

“you’ve been really spacey over the last two weeks, y/n. is everything alright?” jungwon asks. it’s the first time that jungwon has spoken to you about anything other than basic small talk ever since you’d broken the news that you were moving from their place. 

hyewon and you exchange a look and hyewon mumbles something about using the restroom and escapes once again, leaving you to face jungwon alone.

“jungwon, i have to tell you something,” you say with a deep sigh. jungwon stares at you, unsure of exactly how he was supposed to react to that statement. he settles for just nodding, and the two of you head from the kitchen to the living room, where the only furniture that had been set up was a couch and an ottoman.

you sit on the ottoman, across from jungwon, who sits on the couch. but as you open your mouth to tell him the news that had been causing you to be so distant lately, there’s a buzz at the door and your stomach sinks. 

in your rush to move all the boxes and all the furniture into the apartment, you’d completely forgot that you had invited riki to come over and help with the move in process, thinking that jungwon and hyewon would leave by the time he would come over. you curse as you check your watch, realizing that you’d miscalculated just how long it would take to move everything in. 

jungwon gives you a strange look. “are you going to answer the door?” 

you swallow, nodding as you get up, buzzing riki in. “jungwon, i need to tell you about someone and…you’re going to meet him right now and i need you to like him. okay?”

“y/n, what are you talking about?” 

you’re not sure what compels you. maybe it’s the fact that this is the longest conversation that you had with jungwon in over a month. maybe it’s the growing pressure to tell him. maybe it’s the nerves. the probing look in his eyes. or maybe…maybe it’s the comfort that you feel in jungwon. the comfort that you felt years ago, when you were head over heels in love, and felt like it was almost a crime to keep anything from him because you knew just how much he cared. 

“i’m pregnant, jungwon. and riki is the father. and you don’t know riki. but he works with me at the hospital. he’s a year younger than me and i’ve been seeing him for two and a half months. and i - i think i love him.” 

the words practically trip over themselves as they rush out, each one more disastrous than the one before. jungwon grows pale with your confession, before a flush rises in his cheeks, anger so obvious in his eyes that for the first time in your life, you’re afraid in his presence.

and as if the universe hadn’t had enough contempt for you very existence, there’s a knock at the door and you don’t have time to react. jungwon leaps up, faster than you can move, and opens the door in the blink of an eye. 

everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. jungwon grabbing riki’s collar. riki locking eyes with you and keeping his hands behind his back. jungwon pulling riki into the apartment. pushing him against the wall. hyewon rushing out of the bathroom. riki doing nothing to stop jungwon when he draws his fist back. hyewon trying to physically pull jungwon away from riki.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT - YOU KNOCKED HER UP? HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO HER? DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE DID TO GET TO WHERE SHE IS NOW? AND YOU JUST RUINED HER LIFE?”

jungwon was screaming, but for some reason, you can’t process anything he’s saying. all you can do is stare, dumbfounded. 

riki just looks at him, almost as if he’d expected this explosive reaction, but perhaps for all the wrong reasons. you’d told riki bits and pieces of your past with jungwon - especially about why you were so hesitant to jump into a serious relationship - but nothing significant enough for him to just stand there while jungwon was threatening to beat him up.

“i love her, jungwon.”

jungwon’s fist just barely swings past riki. you don’t give him a chance to wind up and aim properly this time. you leap out of your seat and push jungwon away, and it’s clear that jungwon is taken aback by the statement when he practically topples over from your slight push.

“you what?” jungwon whispers, chest heaving as he looks at riki as if he’d grown a second head. hyewon looks tense from behind him, her arms still circled around his waist.

“i said, i love her. and i’m gonna stick by her. and…and if she wants to keep the baby, i’m gonna marry her,” riki says, almost matter-of-factly. this time, you almost topple over. it’s as though the sheer nonsensical nature of the situation has knocked all the anger out of jungwon as he just stares at riki. and then you. and then riki.

“you’re…what?” he says.

“you - you’re - you…what?” you echo. riki nods, looking down at you with a warm yet concerned gaze. he lifts his arm, no doubt to wrap you in a protective hug, but decides against it when he looks at jungwon again.

“if you want to keep the baby, i’ll marry you, y/n. not because i think that marriage is going to magically take away all the issues or anything. but i want life to be easy for you. i want life to be good for our baby. i want you to have a family - if that’s what you want.” his voice is soft, but firm. earnest and sincere but full of conviction. 

if he was running for a political seat, you’re sure that you would’ve already cast your vote for him. 

“huh?” at least the confusion was causing jungwon to steer away from anger as he just looks at you with an almost visible question mark floating above his head.

riki is the one to answer his (many) questions. “i’m a doctor at the hospital y/n works at. i’ve known about her since way before she and i even met and i’ll be honest - it was love at first sight for me. but i didn’t think that she would ever look at me like how i looked at her.”

“youngest in her class to be a fellow. top graduate from one of the best schools in korea. at the forefront of innovation in her field. sincere and dedicated to all of her patients. she was just about perfect in every way, shape, or form. and then i met her in person.”

“she was gorgeous, intelligent, and every inch of a walking goddess that i had envisioned her to be. but she didn’t see me. not the way that i saw her. at first, i thought it was because of my age; the fact that i was a year younger than her. or perhaps that i wasn’t nearly as accomplished as her. or even that i scared her. i didn’t know what it was.”

“then one day, she casually mentioned you - jungwon - and her living situation. she mentioned in passing, like she wasn’t thinking about it but for some reason, it was stuck in my head. and then i realized that she didn’t see me because she wasn’t seeing any man - any man but you. so i tried to give up. i tried to forget it but when you know, you just know. no matter what i did to try and push away my attraction - writing it off as lust or just puppy love, i couldn’t. i was in deep.”

“and then…she walked into the hospital and suddenly i just knew. knew that even if she wasn’t completely over you, maybe i had a chance. maybe she would open her eyes and look at me - see me for me. see me the way i had been seeing her the whole time.”

“imagine my surprise when she confessed, drunk out of her mind, that she saw me at least somewhat like i saw her. we were both at the neuro department’s dinner and had one too many drinks. and with that confession and all that alcohol, one thing led to another and…we…slept together. i woke up with the woman of my dreams in my bed and i was beyond ecstatic - did this mean that we could progress past the relationship of a fellow and her resident? did she see me as a man instead of an immature person who followed her around?”

“she said she wanted to forget it ever happened. i didn’t know what to do. it felt like my entire world was crumbling to pieces. i had hoped, dreamed, and twisted my heart into so many different shapes that i didn’t think it could handle any more bending before breaking. did she just see me as a one night stand? or worse…did she even know that it was me? was her confession just an alcohol induced babble? i was lost. and then she stopped talking to me. avoided me when i came to talk to her. pretended she didn’t see my pages. assigned me to so many surgeries, i was too tired to search for her.”

“there were more times than i can count that i staked out in front of her office, determined to catch her and confront her. only to fall asleep before i could. i always woke up to a warm jacket wrapped around my shoulders and another intern waking me up to tell me to sleep in the on call room. i knew she cared - i just didn’t know why she was running away.”

“and then she kissed me and suddenly, nothing mattered anymore. she kissed me, she was in my arms, she was running and she chose to come back. and that’s all that mattered. everything else, i would figure out. i would help her fix it all. not because she needed me or my help. but because i wanted nothing more than to be hers. i wanted to be in every inch of her life that she would let me touch. i just wanted her to trust me and tell me everything that she’d been afraid of, excited for, and ever in love with. i wanted her past, to heal her. i wanted her future, to be a part of it. and i wanted her present, because i wanted her to realize just how beautiful she was. inside and out.”

“then came the pregnancy. when she was taking the test, i was nervous. not because i didn’t want a family with her. no. i knew from the moment she ran up to the elevator, flummoxed by the badging in system that she was the woman i wanted to marry. but i was nervous because i was scared she would run again. and this time, i was scared that she would run away from me. and there wasn’t a thought scarier than that. but she didn’t. she looked at one of the most frightening moments i can only imagine straight in the eyes, grabbed my hands, and decided to run headfirst.”

“i want to marry her, jungwon. she was my inspiration to be a better man before i ever even met her. when i was just her resident, there wasn’t an effort i spared to try and impress her so that she would notice me as anything other than just her resident. when we became something more, there wasn’t a star i didn’t thank for getting so lucky with her. and then when she became pregnant, there wasn’t a god i didn’t pray to that we would get through this and she would let me stand by her side. i want to marry her because she’s been in every beat of my heart since i started counting the moments that i have with her. i want to marry her because she’s been in every dream since i developed dreams beyond just waking up every morning. i want to marry her because i want to be there for her in all of her moments. when she’s sad, angry, happy, upset, frustrated, ecstatic, proud. i want to just be there for her in it all.”

“and as much as i hate it, this world won’t look kindly upon her if she were to give birth without a ring on her finger. to me, marriage is just a paper to declare something that i already know: i found the love of my life. but i want nothing more than for her success to be expressed in its fullest. i want people to look at her with all of the respect and love that she deserves. and if this world were any more fair, they would regardless of a baby. but if they won’t, i’ll do everything to protect her - and our child.”

for the first time in a very long time, your heart has never felt so light. even with everything, this was enough for you. you throw your arms around riki, not caring for who was watching or what they were thinking, tears streaming down your face.

“will you marry me?” he whispers into your hair, and you feel the weight of the velvet box in his pocket when he says the words. so tender. so gentle. so forgiving.

“i will, riki. i’ll marry you."

[tokyo, 1989]

jungwon doesn’t look at you. the door to the bedroom that the two of you are sitting is closed but you’re well aware that hyewon and riki have already left the apartment. they’d mumbled some excuse or another as they herded you and jungwon into the bedroom and shut the door behind them.

you look at jungwon, trying to memorize every curve and line of his face. not in the way that you used to, hoping that if you stared at him for long enough, you’d be able to commit his face to memory to carry you through long nights studying and clinical shifts.

just…because you forgot what it was like to search through every dip and curve of his face to read him. it had been so long since you’d felt like wanting to do so.

“you’re going to marry him?” he still doesn’t look at you. 

“i’m gonna marry him,” you affirm. “he’s a good man, jungwon.”

jungwon sighs, hanging his head low between his knees. you look away, almost ashamed of causing jungwon to feel like he has to do so. it isn’t for another few moments that you realize that jungwon is crying.

as if there hadn’t been enough shocking moments today, jungwon’s shoulders start shaking as his sniffles grow louder.

“are you - are you crying?” you ask. it’s a stupid question but the universe has thrown one too many curveballs today. 

jungwon doesn’t answer, but his cries grow even louder, despite his best attempts to conceal them. you watch for just a second longer before scooting over, weaving in between the boxes scattered across the room. you pause…but then you hug jungwon.

it was strange. it was jungwon that you were hugging. your jungwon. your first boyfriend. your first chance at universe’s best gift. your first love. but it didn’t feel the same. something had changed. it felt like you were hugging an old friend, one that you were greeting after years apart.

someone who’s changed in the absence but cares about you just the same.

“where did all fall apart, y/n? i couldn’t be happier with hyewon. she’s everything that i’ve ever needed. she loves me despite my flaws and my faults. she’s the most patient, loving woman i have ever had the pleasure of loving in life. she’s everything to me. she’s my everything. i couldn’t live without her but…where did…where did we end? was it the day we broke up? the day that you and sumin fought? when my parents confronted your grandparents? when your grandfather died? when we committed to the same college?”

you’re silent, unsure of what to say. when had it all fallen apart? but when you try to pinpoint a singular moment, you find that you’re unable to.

“i don’t know, jungwon. but you’re never going to stop being important to me,” you admit. “you’re always going to be my first love. and we have grown apart, into different people. i know it’s strange. but…i think it was meant to happen. it feels strange that someone who was my entire world is someone that i can walk away from - into a new apartment and into a new life. but trust me when i say this jungwon: i will always be here for you. think of us going back to the start. we never fell apart; we’re just going back to the way things were supposed to be. we’re going back to being friends.”

“i thought that you stopped loving me. i thought i stopped loving you. i was dead wrong about myself - i don’t think that i could ever stop loving you,” jungwon confesses. you smile, despite the tears in both of your eyes.

“jungwon. you know that it’s not the same. i will always love you. but i’m not in love with you. and you love me. but you’re not in love with me. i’m in love with riki, the man who challenges me and supports me in every way possible. you are in love with hyewon, the woman who inspires you to be a better man everyday.”

“this is all so complicated.”

“it’s life and we’re humans, jungwon. it’s all meant to be complicated.”

“how the hell are you gonna break this to sunghoon?”

“i was hoping i could leave that to you.”

“he already hates me. i’ll be sure to invite you to my funeral though.”

[tokyo, 1988]

“i hope to find love again,” you said, kissing the coin in your hand before flipping it into the fountain before sighing, gathering your bags as you headed towards the hospital to sign your paperwork.

on the opposite side of the fountain, unbeknownst to the you, a tall man stands, holding a coin tightly in his fist.

“i hope she’ll love me back one day,” riki wished, flipping the coin into the fountain.

maybe it was luck. maybe it was fate. or maybe it was the will of the universe when the coin flips onto the fountain and lands right next to where a young, heartbroken woman’s coin had fallen.

the two of you walk in opposite directions but life has a funny way of working out. between gray clouds and broken hearts and reconciliation, tokyo in the year 1988 would prove to be the year that everything fell apart and seemingly fixed itself all over again. 

because that’s life. and life is beautiful, messy, complicated, and full of love if you know where to look.

[bang-chan-my-man]

[nfly5]

ENHYPEN for Elle Korea (April 2025)

[wonforjwon]

chat place ur bets on what color hes dying his hair RNRNNNNN

Yang Jungwon - 04 line!

[coriihanniee]

THE ENGAGEMENT GAME - enhypen smau

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ SYNOPSIS : Forced to enroll in an elite school and bound by an arranged engagement, you must uncover which of the Seven Heirs is your fiancé before the school year ends—or face a life you didn’t choose. As rumors spread and secrets unravel across campus, the boys turn your struggle into a game, but the lines between truth and desire blur, leaving you to question everything, including your own heart. Will you uncover the truth before it’s too late? And what happens when you start falling for the person you least expected?

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ PAIRING : elite student!enhypen x forced engagement!reader

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ GENRES(S) : smau, romance, drama, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ WARNING(S) : kys/kms jokes, sexual jokes, gay jokes, manipulation, power dynamics, profanities

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ STATUS : first chapter soon!~

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ AUTHOR'S NOTE : another smau let's goooo!! I think I'm posting too frequently (oops...) but you guys gave so much love for my mystery bf bnd smau that I decided to write another one, with Enhypen! This plot is much more interesting, full of twists and turns~ Are you ready? Let the games begin! (header edit isn't mine btw, credits to original creator 🥹)

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ This is purely fictional and does not reflect the idols' real personality!

PROFILES

yn and her sugar babies

the nepo bitches

CHAPTERS

01. engaged to WHO?!?!

02. hanseong's new villainess

@coriihanniee ☁️

taglist open! :)

taglist : @lvlyhiyyih @supi-wupi @tinyelfperson @8makes1atom @s0shroe @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @mydeepestsecrects @brownetry @pumpkg @heeheesang @jungwonbropls @nujeskz @enaile23

[flowerwinds]

This Jungwon again because I haven’t moved on

[jenoddity]

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼ Minimalist Jungwon Moodboard ⭑.ᐟ

[xo-iceprince-xo]

[writeformesinpie]

There’s someone watching you – you can feel it in your bones – yet every time you turn your head there’s no one there. It’s not your imagination; you can hear someone breathing in the room. You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s just the sound of the computer, that it’s an old house and everyone knows old houses make creepy noises. That’s all it is, just a spooky old house.

Still, deep (though not that deep) down inside you know someone is here, someone is watching you. What are they waiting for? Some cue from you no doubt. The moment you try to leave the room perhaps, or if you call out and ask the dreaded, ‘Is anyone there?’

Eventually you will have to leave. You can’t stay here forever after all, but not yet. Not while your heartbeat is thudding inside your eardrums, drowning out the unfamiliar breathing. Not while the goosebumps cause a shiver to ripple through your flesh. Not while you sit staring at the blank screen before you. There’s a dark image, an outline of what you are sure is a person behind you in that screen, so close if you turned now you’d see him. You mustn’t turn, you can’t. Even as he stalks towards you, you must keep your eyes away from him. You mustn’t let him know you see him.

The flash of a smile and you know he knows.

In one swift movement you pull hard against the keyboard and turn with it in your hand to smack it against his face. Instead the cord yanks you angrily to a halt and you stand there in shock, useless and unsure, your arms in midair.

If he wasn’t inside your house, if he hadn’t been smiling so demonically just moments before you wouldn’t have believed the man in front of you was capable of anything horrendous. His face is one of pure innocence. His aura, however, is filled to the brim with malice.

“Shhh.” He’s beside you now, his soft fingers brushing away tears you didn’t realise had started to form. He eases the keyboard back to the table and strokes your hair. “It’s okay, baby. No one’s going to harm you while I’m around.”

[sch1z0prenic]

what the fuck

[ranni-moon]

a compilation video of heran and jungwon moments from en oclock ???

🩰 now playing : en-o'clock being the ultimate hewon instigator!

synopsis : a 13 minute compilation of some of heran and jungwon's most questionable en-o'clock moments. a push and pull fueled by heran's competitive nature, and jungwon's inability to stand on business when it comes to her.

masterlist | wattpad

[ added captions are in brackets ]

indented italics are additional voice overs

hey, everyone! welcome back to my channel—aka—the hub for hewon enthusiasts! if you're here, you already know what you're in for... but for the uninitiated, strap in because once you go down this rabbit hole... there's no escape—

totally kidding, of course! ha ha ha... a quick debrief for the newcomers—heran and jungwon are a walking disaster (but in a cute way). and if there's one thing that fuels their chaos, then it's en-o'clock. every single nerve in heran's body is powered by one thing: the burning, uncontrollable desire to win. she's fucking insane super competitive! and won? the exact opposite. he fully believes in just having a good time and trying your best. and because of this clash, it causes some hilarious tension. she throws a few more snarky comments his way, gets a little hot headed, and screams more than usual. but he loves it... WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE YANG JUNGWON!!

[ quick cut to heran playfully scolding jungwon, while he just smiles and rolls his eyes ]

so buckle up, kiddos-grab your snacks, take a deep breath, and prepare for some of my favourite moments of them together. the good, the bad, the yelling... you know the drill. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT THEY ARE NOT DATING!! (or that's what they say..... hmmmmmm)

[ yang "heran can say whatever she wants to me" jungwon pt 3243242 ]

the cameras were dually focused on the eight members neatly sat at their own desk on the classroom set. dressed in school uniform and carrying the same weight of dread and tension as if they were in an actual classroom—the only difference being that they found this more entertaining.

and by "this"—they meant listening to heran ramble on about a topic she was overally passionate about.

it started off the same as it usually did—with someone disagreeing with her to an unhealthy extent. and unfortunately, that day, jungwon was the victim.

heran was leaning back in her chair, then pen in her hand spinning through her fingers with a practiced ease that suggested that her guard was down. she was only half-listening, relaxed, not particularly concerned about the debate that was happening around her.

[ she is toooo foineeee ugh ]

that was until she heard him speak. the words fell from jungwon's tongue, casual, careless. "fate has nothing to do with coincidences though—it's purely spiritual. meaning that most relationships are driven by coincidences."

for the first time the entire segment, she actually sat up, shifting in her seat, the slight confusion in her eyes morphing into something closer to disbelief. she ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face as the cogs in her mind turned to formulate her own opinion.

heeseung was arguing his opinion, most members agreed with jungwon which wasn't a surprise. "jungwon's right. I don't think there's ever someone truly meant for you—it's what you make of it," heeseung said and a few more chimes tuned in.

heran's brow furrowed. "wait, wait," she waved her hand in the air, finally drawing the attention of her members. "do you guys know what fate entails?"

the question earned a few responded nods. "It's when the universe has something planned out for you, which logically doesn't make any sense," jake retorted, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

heran's mouth fell agape. "so you'd rather believe in coincidences?"

jungwon eased into his seat, his lips slightly pursed. "I'd rather believe in coincidences than the assumption that the universe had a plan set out for me before I was even born."

"so you think that we're all here because of a few perfectly alighted coincidences?" she asked again. "that despite us having met each other in one way or another before i-land, are here just because?"

jungwon shrugged, completely unfazed. “I mean… yeah.”

heran sat back in her chair, blinking at him as if he had just spoken an entirely different language.

[ why is she staring at him like that?? I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE ]

the other members watched the exchange with mild amusement, some of them nodding along to jungwon’s words, while others—like ni-ki and sunoo—were too entertained by her reaction to pick a side.

[ sunki knew that this mf was about to get COOKED ]

[ it's always them smh ]

“I don’t get why you’re so shocked,” sunghoon added, resting his chin on his hand. “It’s not that deep.”

heran let out an exasperated laugh, running a hand through her hair again as she tried to make sense of it all. “not that deep?” she repeated. “so none of you think that maybe—just maybe—some things are meant to happen?”

“things happen because of choices, not because the universe willed it,” jungwon argued, his voice calm as ever. “If fate existed, wouldn’t that mean everything in our lives is predetermined? that we don’t actually have control?”

heran frowned, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before sitting up properly, her expression serious now.

“that’s not what fate means,” she countered. “fate isn’t some rigid plan—it’s a force. It’s what brings people together, what nudges you toward things you didn’t even know you needed. It’s not about control, it’s about connection.”

jungwon tilted his head slightly, watching her intently.

she was fully engaged now, her usual playfulness momentarily replaced by something deeper—something convicted. her fingers tapped lightly against the desk as she spoke, her eyes flickering with thought.

“I just think… there are too many things in life that feel too perfect to just be coincidences,” she continued. “like—okay, take us, for example. we all auditioned at different times, from different places, and somehow we've all had interactions before properly meeting, we all ended up in i-land. and then, against all odds, we all debuted together?”

“that’s just luck,” heeseung cut in, ever the realist.

heran shook her head. “It could be luck. or it could be fate. maybe we were all meant to be here, to meet, to be in each other’s lives.”

[ fate did me bad by not letting me be her girlfriend... ]

It was a proper 1 v 7—and she wasn't anywhere near to throwing in her towel.

"you're really passionate about this," jay hummed, the smile on his lips not faltering.

heran scoffed. "because I'm right."

[ yes ma'am 🙇🏼‍♀️]

[ let's keep in mind that these idiots are trying to argue with a girl who has lawyers for parents AND was the debate club president throughout high school ]

[ It's like they want to die smh ]

it was then that she noticed the way jungwon had been staring at her—not in the way he usually did when they were teasing each other, but softer, almost fond. like he wasn’t really paying attention to the debate anymore, just her.

a warmth crept up her neck, but she used it to her advantage.

she turned to face him properly, tilting he head to the side. "so what about us?"

[ US??? TF YOU MEAN US?? ]

[ BRO'S TALKING ABOUT THEM!! MY SOULMATES UGHHHHH ]

the reaction was immediate.

jungwon blinked, caught completely off guard. “that’s not fair—wait."

the atmosphere in the room shifted as jungwon pushed his chair back, the scraping sound of the legs against the floor startling everyone. the members laughed, waiting for his next move, and jungwon himself seemed to be weighing his options, clearly thinking that standing might give him a better shot at making his case.

“look, we're different though,” he said with a smile, his voice steady but filled with a strange certainty, as if this one statement would somehow put an end to their debate.

the silence in the room lasted all of two seconds before the reactions came pouring in, like a dam had burst. jay raised an eyebrow, sunghoon’s mouth dropped open in mock disbelief, and jake looked personally offended as if jungwon had just insulted their entire existence.

heran, however, was still leaning back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on him. she watched him as if trying to figure out where he was going with this. there was a slight shift in her expression—an amused smirk forming on her lips, but she didn’t speak right away.

[ she knew exactly what she was doing here don't even play rn RAHHHHHHH ]

the others were quick to call him out.

“what do you mean different?!” jake practically exploded, his voice half-laughing, half-serious.

sunoo was already shaking his head, grinning ear-to-ear. “oh, I'm starting to love this more than I thought I would."

but heran? she just sat there, watching him with an amused glint in her eye, before shaking her head. "so you’re saying we’re the universe’s exception?"

[ let's do a tally on the amount of "coincidences" these two have been in, according to the boys' logic ]

[ won and heran met when they were 14 for the first time at a taekwondo tournament ]

[ they ended up tying. which was heran's first time since the age of 5 that she hasn't outright won a match ]

[ I just know she was crashing out so bad on the way home ]

[ for an entire year and a half they had their trophy's, both their names engraved on each ]

[ THEY WERE WALKING PAST THAT TROPHY EVERYDAY FOR A YEAR NOT KNOWING HOW DEEP IT WAS ]

[ they were both bighit trainees before jungwon moved to belift ]

[ then they met at i-land, and ended up in the same group for every unit performance ]

[ THEN THEY JUST HAPPENED TO TIE IN VOTES AT THE END OF THE SHOW?!?! ]

[ yeah, they are more than an exception ]

jungwon hesitated.

that was not what he was trying to say, but the way she phrased it made it sound ridiculous. he ran a hand through his hair, a flustered laugh slipping past his lips. "no, that’s not—okay, wait."

before anyone could say anything else, he moved.

straight toward her.

[ SIR, WHERE ARE YOU GOING???? ]

heran raised an eyebrow as he crossed the room, coming to a stop right in front of her desk. the others went feral.

"NO WAY, IS HE TRYING TO RECOVER?"

"JUNGWON, TURN BACK, YOU ALREADY LOST."

but he ignored them, placing both hands on the edge of her desk and leaning down slightly so they were eye-level. “just hear me out for a second.”

[ I'm sat 🪑]

but then there was the other part of him—the one that had just spent the last few minutes on a losing streak against her—telling him he was in too deep. he had already lost this round, and there was no way he was going to win. Not with that look she was giving him.

so, he tried to speak, but his words faltered. his throat seemed dry. he paused mid-sentence, unsure whether to continue or just let this moment go.

she was waiting for him to speak, to defend his point, but the way she was looking at him made it impossible to concentrate. his breath caught in his throat, and he felt a strange warmth rise up his neck.

this wasn’t how it usually went. mormally, when they bickered, he’d shoot back with a quick retort, but now? now, he could barely remember what they were debating about in the first place.

she tilted her head slightly, as if inviting him to continue. “okay, I’m listening,” she said, her voice soft, almost coaxing.

It was like a switch had flipped in his head. his mind raced, but all his thoughts were tangled in one thing—her. the way she was sitting there, calm and collected, waiting for him to figure it out, was… unsettling. he felt his pulse quicken, his stomach flipping as he watched her, his thoughts scattered in all the wrong ways.

[ can we please get these two a room...? ]

jungwon, unable to hold it together, stared at her for a beat longer before his mouth opened, and his next words were a breathless surrender.

“I’m sorry.” he deadpanned, the embarrassment hitting him immediately. “you were right, I was wrong.”

the words came out almost too easily, but as soon as he said them, the weight in his chest lifted just a little. heran looked up at him, surprised by his sudden admission. the room was still—no one had expected this.

for a split second, it felt like everyone was holding their breath, but then—

“OH MY GOD!” sunghoon exploded from his seat, hands on his cheeks. “did you just—"

heeseung had his hands in his hair, utter shock on his face. "YOU IDIOT!"

"well," jay sighed, throwing his head back in defeat. "that's one way to lose a debate."

[ when a man knows when to stfu>>> ]

“YOU’RE A GONER,” jake declared, pointing at jungwon with the intensity of a courtroom prosecutor.

jungwon barely had time to process his loss before sunoo dramatically flopped onto his desk, clutching his chest like he had just witnessed a tragic love story unfold in real time. “I can’t believe it. we lost because of this idiot.”

meanwhile, ni-ki was cackling, absolutely losing it. “hyung, you folded faster than my laundry—AND I DON’T EVEN DO MY LAUNDRY.”

heran, still seated, finally let out a laugh, shaking her head. “I was just messing with you, won.”

jungwon inhaled sharply—he knew that. he should’ve known that. But the way she was looking at him, the way she had maneuvered this entire debate like she was playing chess while he was stuck in a game of tic-tac-toe—it had felt real.

so, with a dramatic sigh, he lowered himself in front of her desk, bending his knees and resting his head on the surface in total defeat. “I knew that,” he muttered into the wood, but the heat creeping up his neck betrayed him.

heran grinned, amused, before lifting a hand and gently patting his head. “sure you did.”

the moment was short-lived because—

“GET UP, YOU COWARD,” heeseung shouted, throwing a crumpled paper ball at him. “HAVE SOME DIGNITY.”

jungwon didn’t move.

“leave him,” jay said, shaking his head solemnly. “this is his life now.”

[ bro turned into a housecat for her I'M SICK ]

[ heran's inevitable crashout ]

In this en-o'clock episode, the members were handed a silly yet surprisingly difficult challenge: they had to thread a needle while their hands were handcuffed together. the task was as ridiculous as it was frustrating, but the real entertainment came from watching the chaos unfold as each pair struggled to get the needle through the thread.

heran and jungwon were once again paired up, and the moment the handcuffs clicked around their wrists, the other members immediately started to snicker.

[ the en-o'clock directors know what we want for realllll 😩😩😩 ]

[ every day I thank them for the heran and jungwon content that they feed us ]

“are you kidding me? this is how we’re spending our time today?”

jungwon, always calm, gave a small smile, trying to hide his amusement. “It’s not that hard.”

heran shot him a look, already feeling the impending chaos. “yeah? watch me as I try to not stab you with this needle,” she said, waving it around dramatically.

she immediately started fidgeting with the needle, her hand shaking as she tried to get it through the tiny hole. but every time she tried, her movements were limited by their handcuffs, pulling jungwon into an awkward dance.

“hold still, please,” she grumbled, her frustration growing.

“I’m trying,” he replied, his voice a mix of amusement and patience. he kept his movements slow and gentle, trying to avoid bumping into her too much.

[ y’all, I’m dying ]

[ he’s so calm while she’s freaking out ]

her eyes were locked on the needle as she tried again and again to get the thread through the eye. “this is so stupid! we're gonna be here all day!” she exclaimed, exasperated.

jungwon couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, though he quickly tried to calm her down. “It’s okay, rannie. just focus. you're getting too excited."

“FOCUS? I can’t even move properly with these handcuffs!” she threw her hands up, nearly hitting jungwon in the face in the process.

[ the way he dodged her hand I'm screamingggg ]

[ this girl is a safety hazard bro ]

“okay, okay,” he said, trying to make sense of their position. “let’s take a breath. we need to breathe before you stab us both.” he carefully moved her hand back, avoiding the sharp edge of the needle.

heran exhaled loudly, her dramatic energy mixing with his calm demeanour. “okay, but this is a nightmare,” she whined, but she tried to calm herself.

jungwon gently took her hand and guided her fingers back to the needle, moving them both carefully. his calm voice was steady. “don't rush it. we still have a minute left.”

despite her obvious frustration, heran felt the weight of his words. she took a breath, refocusing, and with hisgentle guidance, the needle finally slid through the thread.

the room fell silent for a second as the task was completed, and then—

“there you go,” jungwon said softly, smiling warmly. “good job.”

[ me next! me next! ]

[ her reaction 😏 ]

heran blinked at him, almost in disbelief, as the tension finally released. her face lit up with a smile, pride swelling within her despite the chaotic journey to get there. “oh my god, we actually did it. finally!”

[ look at how gentle he is with her 😩😭 ]

[ our first proper hewon moment since i-land ]

[ may i present to you, the en-o'clock episode that stared it all ]

[ we have jealous jungwon, heran being hot as fAWk, and them being all cutesie ]

the weather was slightly overcast that early afternoon, that had already been filled with laughter and momentary betrayal. the members had just finished setting up their tent on set, and were playing around with some of the games.

heran was particuarly engrossed in the football at her feet, tapping it in the air as she explained the gist of her position to the camera.

[ OH SHE IS TOO HOT WTF THIS IS UNREAL ]

[ WHY IS SHE KICKING THE BALL WITH SO MUCH EASE I'M GONNA FAINT ]

after that bit, one of the staff members announced that as a reward they got a watermelon which they had to fetch themselves down the stream. naturally, they rushed over only to be met with the difficult task of getting it out of the water while staying dry.

heran was minding her own business, standing a little too close to the edge for comfort—and there he was—park sunghoon—getting ready to commit murder on camera for whatever reason.

[ when I tell you that he had it out for her the entire episode ]

[ look at him smirking... psychopath! ]

"what if someone just—"

that was the last thing heran heard before she felt his hands on her back, applying a little more pressure than needed before her ear-piercing scream rung through the air.

[ the editors did her so dirty with this part bruh ]

[ the slowmotion fall has me WHEEZING ]

heran's first instinct was to grab onto the thing closest to her or stability, and that just to happened to be jay. she yelped, jumping onto him with an urgency of someone trying to run away from a tsunami. her arms flung around his neck in panic, her legs around his waist in the most koala-looking way imaginable.

[ HAND PLACEMENT! HAND PLACEMENT! ]

[ I need jay to hold me like that yesterday actually ]

the members were in tears, clutching their stomachs at he reaction—except for jungwon.

[ yeah... uhm... I'm scared ]

his gaze was hard, confused even as he watched the scene unfold. heran in jay's arms. that sure didn't seem right.

[ jungwon rn : that should be me, holding your hand! that should be me, making you laugh! ]

[ F in the chat for leader yang guys ]

the episode continued to unfold with similar moments, a little more tension than usual but of course it melted away as quickly as it happened. they got their watermelon and were lounging around on the grass—but something caught heran's eye.

jungwon was sitting on the grass, staring at his watermelon slice as it if had a personal vendetta against him. he was battling with the seeds, already not in a good mood.

[ aw wonie looks so sadddd ]

[ my SHAYLAAAA ]

then from the other end of the camera's view heran caught a glimpse of the issue and immediately got up. "you look like you're dissecting that thing," she said, her tone light a she crouched down beside him.

he glanced up, surprised by the sudden proximity. "It's got way too many seeds," he mumbled, holding it up as evidence.

heran didn't even hesitate and held out he own slice for him to take. "here, take mine. there's barely any seeds in it."

[ SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP ]

jungwon blinked, startled by the gesture. "what about you?"

she shrugged, plopping down beside him on the blanket. "I'll just steal another one when jay isn't looking."

[ absolute menace ]

"thanks," he said quietly, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile.

"no problem, won."

[ the moment that started it all ]

[ it was the end of border : carnival promotions ]

[ the fandom was tweaking ]

[ heran was being dragged into bullying rumours ]

[ and this moment single handedly saved us all from depression ]

[ who's the prettier princess? ]

"hyung, why does it suit you so well?" ni-ki asked in between his laughter, the other members soon joining in as jungwon placed the tiara on his head.

[ HE IS SO CUTE GUYS I'M GONNA SCREAM ]

[ AWW LOOK AT THE BABYYYY ]

his cheeks were momentarily flushed in embarrassment as he turned to the camera. this wasn't the worst punishment that he could have gotten—but it wasn't the best either. the only thing holding him together was heran's reaction.

she covered her face with her hands, fighting back the urge to squeal from beside him. "why do you look so cute?" she asked sweetly. "this is so unfair."

[ says the most gorgeous person ever??? ]

[ she's so self-unaware sometimes istg ]

sunoo clapped his hands together, loving every bit of this punishment. "you're supposed to be posing for the camera."

the other members chimed in agreement, egging him on and making sweet comments about how he was definitely a fairy in his past life. he couldn't bare the attention, dropping his head into his hands with a groan.

"how much longer do I have to do this for?" he asked, only to be met with more requests to pose for the camera properly, but for the life of him he couldn't.

but then heran happened.

she calmed herself down and grabbed his attention, nearly losing he composure when he turned to look at her. "won, you need to smile at the camera or else they're going to keep this on you," she said in between a fit of giggles, straightening the tiara on his head.

jungwon threw his head back with a groan. "It's too much, I can't take myself seriously."

ni-ki snorted from a few tables down, crossing his arms but his smile still there. "If it helps, we never take you seriously."

[ this absolute CLOWN ]

the room was filled with hushed snickers that only made jungwon even more reluctant. but heran was going to make sure that he looked at the camera, this was the perfect opportunity for a new lock screen background.

she nudged him with her foot. "come on, just a small smile for the camera, wonie," she encouraged, flashing him the same sweet smile that he could never say no to.

[ I love it when she calls him that ]

two seconds later he was facing the main camera, putting on his best act while his members cooed over the sight—especially heran, who was on the verge of having heart palpitations.

she tilted her head to get a better look at him, his flustered smile making her pout. "we need to see your dimples, baby, stop being shy."

[ WHEN I TELL YOU THAT I THREW MY PHONE ACROSS THE ROOM WHEN I HEARD HER SAY THIS ]

[ never in my LIFE have I heard best friends call each other baby ]

[ she slipped up here and didn't even careeee ]

[ the scream I SCRUMPT!!!! ]

[ THE ABSOLUTE MESS THIS THIS MOMENT CAUSED ON STAN TWITTER WAS BEAUTIFUL ]

that was jungwon's breaking point—the smile was involuntary—a natural reaction to anything that heran did, and there it was, his dimples etched so beautifully into his cheeks that she reacted to heavily to the point where she knocked her knee on the table.

[ an employed crashout indeed ]

the members were having a field day, losing their composure after something so small yet so entertaining. when it was finally over and jungwon was hit with another wave of embarrassment that had him sinking even further into his seat.

the excitement died down for a bit, the camera now focused on heran trying to calm him down. she rubbed his back soothingly, something that she wasn't aware was making him even more flustered. "you'd make such a pretty princess to be honest," she teased with a warm smile.

[ yes he would. speak your truth queen ]

he sat up straight at her proclamation, fully turning to face her as he took the tiara off his head and gently placed it on hers, brushing a few stray strands of hair out the way. "too bad, because you're my pretty princess."

[ ME WHEN?? ME FUCKING WHEN?? ]

[ I LOVE THEM SO MUCH I'M GONNA THROW UP ]

[ seperation anxiety but make it hewon ]

they didn't know who decided that it was a great idea to lock each of the members in a room for a few hours, but none of them were complaining—except for jungwon.

the other seven were more than content with their own company, a few snacks and something to keep them entertained. In heran's case it was her nintendo switch—which the fandom believed was more important to her than most things in her life.

she was sprawled out on the floor, the sun's rays seeping through the open window and onto her face with a familiar warmth. everything was going well, but she could have sworn that she heard a scream from time-to-time.

"ah! I drove into a turtle shell!" she exclaimed, her eyes trained onto the game of mario kart that she was immersed in.

[ my girlfriend is a gamer don't even ]

It was peaceful, rewarding, but strangely empty. It took her nearly 30 minutes before she cracked. "I wonder how the other members are doing?" she turned to look at one of the cameras in the corner of the room.

[ well wouldn't you like to know... ]

then the clip switched over to jungwon who was undoubtably relapsing. like heran, he was sprawled on the floor, only he had a lot more whining, kicking, and rolling on the floor. yang jungwon was losing his mind.

"how long has it been? two hours?" he asked, a slight pout on his lips.

[ 30 minutes. It has been 30 minutes ]

after a few more moments of throwing a very controlled tantrum, he sat up straight, and stared directly at the camera. "I feel so alone."

[ me too, buddy. me too ]

his attention flickered from the door that was locked, to the window until the cogs in his brain started working. and as if on cue a knock came from the other side of the door, and it was gently pushed open.

a staff member popped their head in to check up on him, just as he did with the other members. "are you okay in here?" he asked and jungwon sighed.

[ comical to say the least ]

"I'm going insane. Is heran okay?" he couldn't help himself.

[ heehheheheheeehhe ]

the staff member chuckled and gave him a reassuring nod. "she said that she's having the time of her life."

jungwon's heart dropped to his stomach, his brows furrowing in genuine shock. "why?" the question slipped. "doesn't she miss me?"

[ oh lawddddd ]

[ get ready guys ]

"I'm sure she does," the staff member answered and then took a step out of the room, ready to lock it for the next hour, but jungwon was quick.

his excuse was that one of the cameras in the room made a funny sound, and that it should definitely be checked out now instead of later. "It could be a serious issue, I'm not sure."

[ a mastermind at work ]

[ he invented prison break, I don't make the rules ]

then, just as the staff member took his first few steps into the corner of the room jungwon made his grand escape out the door. in his defence, it was a foolish mistake to leave it open with him in the room of all people.

his adrenaline filled screams echoed through the house, his figure running past a few very confused staff members until they caught on and eventually started chasing him. it was a sight to behold, and the members locked up all shared the same thought.

[ the staff members really said "..... OH SHIT!" ]

"that's definitely jungwon."—heeseung

"wow, he lasted longer than I expected, props to him."— sunghoon

"this is why I stay away from him."—sunoo

"I wonder how long the staff members are going to chase him for?"— ni-ki

"Is that jungwon screaming? how did he get out?"—jake

"I'm surprised he didn't jump out the window."—jay

the only person who didn't hear him was heran, because she was too distracted by her own screaming to notice his. that was until, she heard a bang on the window behind her, followed by a pair of hands gripping onto the window sill.

"what the hell?" she asked and walked over, peering our to see jungwon standing on the lawn about 3 meters down, clearly out of breath.

"open the window more!" he screamed. "hurry, they're chasing me!"

[ you cannot make this shit up ]

heran didn't have a clue as to what was going on but obliged, muttering something under her breath as she took a step back, watching as he took one big leap and successfully pulled himself up.

less than a minute later he was rolling through the open window, a few staff members gathering outside and ultimately giving up with a few chuckles and tired pants. "that's definetaly gonna make for good content time. we should thank him."

[ get that bag I guess ]

she was dumbfounded to say the least—her lips parted as she stared at the boy laying on the floor, attempting to catch his breath. "can I get an explanation, please?"

after a few more deep breaths, he sat up straight and stared at her with narrowed eyes. "why didn't you miss me?"

[ DEAD!! ]

[ get yourself a man who YEARNSSSS ]

heran stared at him a moment longer. "huh?" she ran her fingers through he hair, trying to make sense of the situation. "you jumped through my window to ask me that?"

he let out a dramatic sigh, sitting up. “yeah, because you had mario kart and zero loyalty.”

“excuse me?”

“I suffered in that room,” jungwon continued, clutching his chest like he had survived a life-or-death situation. “and meanwhile, you were just chilling, living your best life, not even thinking about me.”

she scoffed. “for the record, I did think about you.”

jungwon narrowed his eyes. “when?”

she paused. “...like, at some point.”

he let out an exaggerated tch before sprawling out dramatically on the floor again. “wow. betrayed. I can’t believe this.”

heran sighed before dropping back onto the floor, settling into her previous spot. jungwon watched her expectantly, waiting—waiting—for some kind of grand gesture, some token of appreciation for his bravery. but when she simply picked up her switch again and continued her game like nothing had happened, he was scandalised.

"that's it?"

[ bro expected her to propose or something ]

heran didn’t even glance up from her screen. "jungwon, I'm locked in the room too. I have nothing to give you right now."

he groaned, letting himself fall back onto the floor with a dramatic thud. "I'm too tired to even argue right now. I've never run that fast in my life."

"yeah, I could tell. I thought you were about to pass out at my window."

jungwon waved her off weakly, too exhausted to keep up his usual antics. she sighed, setting her switch aside for a moment. she looked down at him, then at the clock ticking away on the wall. another hour of being stuck in here. she might as well make things a little easier for the poor guy.

without saying a word, she patted her lap. “we’re here for another hour, come on.”

[ WOOF WOOF BARK BARK ]

[ WHY'D SHE PAT HER LAP LIKE THAT?!? ]

It took less than a second for jungwon to shift, rolling over until his head was resting on her lap. he let out a deep, satisfied sigh as he closed his eyes. "this is so much better. I should've come here way earlier."

[ bro is never beating those cat allegations ]

heran let out a soft laugh, about to reach for her switch again when suddenly—

her hand was stolen.

she blinked, looking down to see him guiding her fingers onto his head.

"how am I supposed to play mario kart with one hand?"

jungwon cracked one eye open, giving her the most shamelessly innocent look imaginable. "skill issue."

[ SIR SHE WILL KICK YOU OUT STFU ]

she gawked at him. "excuse me?"

he closed his eyes again, letting out an overly dramatic sigh. "I risked my life to be here with you. the least you can do is comfort me in my time of need."

[ dramatic ahh ]

heran rolled her eyes but ultimately relented, fingers slipping into his soft strands as she lazily combed through them. "you're an idiot, you know that?"

jungwon only hummed, already halfway to falling asleep.

do you feel unlovable yet? because I know I do! hahahaha. I'm tweaking. please leave me alone while I wallow in my sorrows, because lee heran will NEVER run her fingers through my hair or say, "we need to see your dimples, baby" TO ME!!