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euphroseia · 10 months

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knowing mari, i knew i just have to trust the process for the happy part and resolution of it all. yet, it still didn’t prepare me for the pain this all comes with.

You had it all wrong. Hyunjin wasn't insisting about you and Chan because he was jealous, or because he was concerned -it was out of guilt. He, most likely, was realizing that you had indeed been waiting for him all this time while he had moved on. Of course he had moved on. Of course. Even a failed relationship was a relationship, after all.

as someone who waited over a person for a very long time, while that person found different love interests over the years, i sincerely felt this. yet, i don’t blame him, for he did not leave a reason for me to hold on.

but this isn’t about me. maybe i do understand hyunjin and reader, or maybe i don’t at all. but still, i felt the yearning and grieving for the lost of something that has not yet began, and it was, indeed, very heavy.

i don’t think i can quote every lines that broke me, because that would mean the whole story, but this “She had been with him more than you had. She knew him better than you did, and Hyunjin knew her more than he knew you. This was an undeniable truth. You had no claim over him.” hyunjin and reader love each other please i beg of them, especially reader, to hold onto it, even just that.

There was only one reason why you were hurting so much, and that reason was the love you had for Hyunjin.

i’m not a selfish type of person, but i wish hyunjin and reader would be. i can’t and don’t want them to feel the absence of love for the sake of others, i want them to be happy. yet, i’m not one to dictate, but i really do hope they get genuine happiness, even the people around them.

also, a little bit of change in emotions. i think i mentioned before i am scared of frogs but i was actually interested and found chives cute, but right now with a kitten, sign me up really for mr. pickles. he reminds me of my cat when he was still a baby and scared of people but was very active and playful ^^

as always, thank you, mari. for being so kind and sharing such a wonderful creation to us. i really do hope for the resolution of our super bored couple 🥹🫶🏻

do you know what your heart wants? | super bored chap. 3 🔞

pairing: hyunjin x afab reader | wc: 27k | genre: college au but they graduated, romance, smut | warnings: angst & mentions of the past, mutual pining, reunions, sorta love triangle stuff, drinking, recreational drug use (weed), adult themes/sexual content. This work is for adult audiences only. DNI if you're an ageless/empty blog. Explicit warnings under the cut. masterlist.

No matter how long you left it, when you returned home it always felt the same, it never felt foreign, and you always belonged there. Hyunjin could have been gone for fifty years and it wouldn’t have made a difference, not one bit.

smut warnings: no major warnings. sex under the influence (alcohol, weed) but fully consensual + protected sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m, f receiving), vaginal sex, edging, mild degradation (hj calls mc a slut affectionately), light breathplay/choking.

Chan offered his best smile to the room, the one you knew he only had when he was nervous but tried to play it cool.

“Maybe we could start with the basics—how about you give us a complete rundown of the charity, the cause, the fundraising, all that?”

“Absolutely.” Hongjoong accepted a cable from Chan and wasted no time connecting his laptop to the projector. You sat in silence with yours, waiting to take some notes on what may be relevant to you right now. “Big charity event—it’s a yearly thing, except this year is the 10th anniversary so we’re going for something bigger.”

“What’s the event like typically?” Changbin asked, looking very serious with his ipad and his glasses. You were tempted to snap a picture of him and send it to his girlfriend—she was a kind girl and she was funny and you were trying to find a way to become her friend. You knew this would make her smile.

Making friends as an adult was so hard. Well, for you at least. It didn’t seem hard at all for Chan—whenever he took you and the guys out for drinks after work, he seemed to attract all sorts of people who liked to make friendly conversation with him. A lot of the time women were hitting on him, too, but he rarely indulged them. And you were grateful about that since you did share an apartment with him…

“It’s for a children’s hospital,” So-yeon explained. She had already left a strong impression on you—in just the few minutes she had spent here in this conference room, you had learned that she had to work really hard to earn this job on the museum’s administrative board, and you respected her even more because of it.

It also made you rethink it all. How you had taken this job because Chan had offered it to you but you knew he didn’t have many other options. That had never been your dream. To be something someone settles for. That was maybe one of your greatest fears.

But was really a work meeting on a sunny afternoon the best place to contemplate life? Probably not. So you listened to the briefing about the museum charity instead, hoping it would distract you from your not-so-fun thoughts.

“In the past years, artists—sometimes local, sometimes international—would create paintings or pieces of art and they would simply be sold in an auction to raise funds for the children’s hospital,” So-yeon went on. You had a vague knowledge of this—you had probably seen footage of someone handing another person one of these giant checks on TV. “But for this year, we wanted the children to be involved, so the artists will collaborate with a few of them directly.”

“Oh, that’s actually pretty cool,” Chan commented. “Would an auction still take place to raise funds?”

“Yes, but we felt like it wasn’t enough,” Hongjoong continued. “So on top of that, the artists will also be painting the walls of the entrance hallway with as many children as possible. Like a giant mural. We thought we could also gather more attention if we invited celebrities—actors, idols, internet personalities, you know?”

“That’s a sound course of action if I’ve ever seen one.” Chan was typing furiously on his laptop as he was talking. “Honestly, I don’t see why the other guys dropped you. This sort of event promotes itself.”

There was a long silence in the room, punctuated only by the sounds of Chan’s keyboard. You and Jisung exchanged a knowing stare. “They didn’t like your art director, did they?” you asked, alternating between looking at Hongjoong, So-yeon, and Wooyoung. “The guy that’s on his way here with a whole ass cat in his shirt.”

So-yeon laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

“Then maybe they were not the right kind of people to lead the marketing campaign on a charity event,” you pointed out. You were no expert, but you knew for a fact that people who went out of their way to help others—animals or humans—couldn’t be so bad to work with if you had empathy.

“You and I agree on this.” Hongjoong flashed a smile at you and returned to his laptop. “Can I use your printer? I didn’t have time to print out the files so we can review them together.”

“This one’s out of ink,” you replied, pushing yourself out of your chair, a little too glad to have a great excuse to leave this room. You motioned towards the printer that was by the door. “Just select the second printer on the list, I’ll go get the documents.”

You didn’t wait for a response and made your way out of the conference room, vaguely hearing Chan saying he was coming to help you because ‘that printer always gets jammed’. Then, Wooyoung chimed in. “Oh, looks like our missing guy is here, he just texted that he’s at the door.”

“I’ll go get him,” Changbin announced, but already his voice was faint as you had just turned the corner. “Do we have some sort of box to put that cat in? Or is he gonna keep that cat in his shirt during the whole meeting—”

Still, you went down the hallway and towards your office. It was a small room but it was yours, and you had spent countless hours here, working on various projects. Usually with a podcast on, or some background music. You made sure to walk as quickly as possible in the hopes of evading Chan—you needed a minute. Just one minute, alone.

You had known a person like this. It felt like a lifetime ago but it really wasn’t. A boy who had found a frog by a bush of hydrangeas in Chan’s old backyard. A boy with fancy lollipops and a dorky laugh and a heart of gold. A boy who had made you feel things you never even thought possible, with honesty in every word he spoke. Misunderstood by the world around him and yet he saw beauty and art everywhere he looked. You had known a person like this. Who had been rejected because others couldn’t wrap their heads around someone like him. Someone carefree and yet deeply caring. Someone funny, talented. Someone real.

He had been real. Real enough that you thought about him every day—sometimes a lot, sometimes just as a passing thought. But he had changed you somehow. You saw him when you walked by ponds or when Jisung passed you a joint. You tasted him in red candy and felt him in cool autumn breezes. He had been real but he felt like your brain had made him up for some cruel reasons. Your own custom-made fairy tale.

“I’m here!” Chan put an end to your mind's mini-spiraling episode and you couldn’t even be mad.

The printing process had just begun. “I think I can manage a paper jam on my own, Chan.” You turned to him and crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s literally my printer. In my office.”

Chan chuckled and offered you an apologetic smile. “Yeah, no, you’re right.” Still, he came to stand next to you. “Exciting project, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, yeah. It’s a good thing for the community and it feels good to be involved in it. I already have some ideas… like—if the team is alright with this—I’d like to use children’s drawings to design the posters and—”

“Sounds good, sounds great,” Chan interrupted your sentence before you were done explaining your vision, which threw you off—he always listened to everyone diligently and it was very unlike him to cut you off, especially when it was about work. You saw on his face that he had noticed it. “Sorry, I just… I feel bad about lying to Jisung. About… the plus one. All of that.”

You nodded absentmindedly, focusing on the noises coming from the printer instead. “Don’t feel bad. We can find you an actual date before the wedding. I’m sure that many girls would love to go on a little cruise.”

Jisung and Sun-young’s wedding would take place on a real boat—not the huge cruise boats but still far from just a ferry—for a two-nights trip at sea. Sun-young’s father was the captain of that boat and he generously rented all the rooms for the guests while Jisung’s parents paid for the wedding dinner. It would be one hell of an event—so of course a guy like Chan would have absolutely no problem finding someone to go with.

“Oh, maybe,” Chan said with a shrug. “We could just… go together, you know? I mean if Ji needs to free an additional room… or just… it could be fun, yeah?”

Your heart jumped in your chest as your mind ran marathons. Bang Chan himself was asking you to be his plus one at your friend’s wedding. Your old college self would be creaming her panties at that idea. But your today self felt warmth spread behind her neck. You didn’t know where to look—you couldn’t bear making eye contact with Chan but the sight of the printer spewing sheets of paper made you dizzy. You settled for going to your desk, pretending to be looking for something in a drawer.

“I mean, we’ll both be going anyway,” you pointed out. “Won’t we?”

Chan followed you to your desk and leaned against it. With a sigh, you closed the drawer and mustered up enough courage to look him in the eyes. He had a soft smile on his face, although his cheeks were pink. “Sure, we will. Last I checked, I was the best man for this wedding…” Chan chuckled and you laughed with him, which eased the tension between you two. “Sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” The printer was done and the sheets rested in the tray, but you made no move to recover them yet. “Sorry for making things weird.”

“You didn’t.” Chan’s smile faded a little and he bit his lip softly. He sighed, as if his forces were abandoning him. “Look, we’re both adults, aren’t we? Can I speak frankly?”

Relief washed over you—tiptoeing around was much more exhausting than being straightforward. “For the love of god, yes.”

“Just earlier, I mentioned the party where Jisung met Sun-young. And… your mood shifted. I know why. I remember that party. I made you a s’more. You fell into the fire.”

If your mind had been going at lightspeed earlier, it quietly slowed down until it became the vacuum of outer space itself. You didn’t look away from Chan and didn’t pretend you didn’t know what he meant.

“I fucked up that night,” Chan went on. “I acted like a dumbass. Instead of hanging out with you, I hung out with another girl, but I didn’t even like her. It was to make you jealous. I don’t know what I was thinking, I was so fucking stupid... I wanted to ask you out.”

It wouldn’t have felt much different if Chan had dropped a block of concrete over your head. You choked on the nervous sip of water you had just taken from your bottle, causing you to cough violently for a few seconds.

For months you had had a crush on him. Chan the cool guy. You used to go out of your way to ‘accidentally’ bump into him after his classes when you didn’t even have lectures in the same building as he did. You'd follow Jisung to places you didn't care for if he mentioned Chan was going to be there. For months, you had thought he barely saw you.

“No fucking way…” Your voice sounded small so you cleared your throat.

“And I’m not even asking you out right now,” Chan added hurriedly. “But sometimes I wonder what would have happened if instead of messing around I would have stayed with you that night. Like, I know you left the party with—”

But the rest of Chan’s sentence was drowned by a sudden commotion coming from the conference room. Even from here, you clearly heard shouts and exclamations, as well as Jisung’s voice booming through the hallways.

“FROG BOY?????????????????”

Your eyes met Chan’s—your mind was empty and full at the same time, as if you couldn’t properly process what was happening. You looked at the hallway where all the shouting was still coming from, then at the printer, then at Chan again. In milliseconds, both of you were bolting out of your office to investigate the chaos.

And nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you entered the conference room again.

Everyone had left their seats and were standing in a circle around someone that hadn’t been there previously. A man, tall, with broad shoulders and a black hoodie. He was holding a small tabby kitten in his hands and was talking excitedly with Jisung and Changbin. He wasn’t looking at you but you saw him perfectly—the beautiful traits of his face, large, brown eyes, lips the color of roses. There had been a ring on the bottom one before but it was gone now.

His hair was still bleached to a warm, buttery blond color, but it was longer now, almost reaching his shoulders in length. It was silky smooth, shining under the sun that was filtering through the windows. One side of it was tucked behind his ear, showing not a flashy rose-shaped helix piercing but something more modest—two simple black rings.

He looked so different and yet exactly the same. A calm, poised aura, a soulful gaze, a genuine smile. You could have not seen him for a hundred years and you would be able to recognize him.

Hyunjin. Your Fairytale.

He didn’t look real because how could he be real? How could he be standing in the middle of this conference room, right now, today? What were the odds of the pieces of this puzzle coming together like that?

A million thoughts went through your head—how you should have known from the info disclosed by the museum team that he was their art director. Maybe you had known the moment you had seen the black hoodie in the picture. But why was he here? When had he returned from Paris? Why hadn’t he texted you? He looked good, healthy, happy. He looked all grown up, serious but with a playful glimmer in his beautiful eyes.

Hyunjin slowly twisted his neck, apparently to say something to So-yeon who you were now standing just behind, and he caught sight of you. The room fell silent immediately—you couldn’t not notice Jisung’s shocked expression and how he brought his hand to his mouth as if he was witnessing a life-changing event.

Hyunjin’s brows furrowed slightly, like he didn’t believe what he was seeing. “T—Tipsy?”

You couldn’t believe it either. You tried to say something, anything—his name, or just a goddamn hello, but your voice got stuck somewhere in your throat. Before you knew it, tears were pricking at the corner of your eyes, but they weren’t from being upset, or even from being surprised. Relieved was closer to it. Grateful would be more accurate.

In an instant, Hyunjin handed over the small kitten he had in his hands to Jisung who grabbed it without hesitation. A second later, you found yourself pulled into a tight hug, Hyunjin’s arms tightly wrapped around your body, and it felt like taking a rest after a long journey. He felt the same as it had before, but different. Better. Your head found its way to the crook of his neck where you basked in his scent, familiar and foreign all at once. He smelled like complex cologne with smoky undertones, like roses, like laundry detergent, like a soft breeze.

Hyunjin smelled like home.

“I’m actually really excited about this project guys. It could mean a lot of good stuff for us.” Chan’s smile had returned—he had just walked the museum team to the front door after the meeting.

You were still in the conference room with Changbin and Jisung, clearing up used cups and files that had been left behind. Your mind was even more clouded than it had been while Hyunjin was still here. “Will you come tonight?” he had asked you. You specifically.

Of course you would.

Changbin’s phone rang with a text notification. “Ah, Wooyoung texted me the address of Hyunjin’s place.” He started typing a response. “Kinda crazy that we met frog boy again, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.” You could feel Jisung’s eyes drilling holes into your skull but you didn’t even look at him—you just kept piling up the empty coffee cups to go and rinse them before recycling them. “Hey, y/n, could I borrow you for fifteen minutes? I’m supposed to submit the draft of the seating chart tomorrow but I fucked up the template on the file…”

You kept your eyes on what you were doing—grabbing your laptop in one hand and the cups in another. “Sure, Ji. I’ll get started on the pamphlets for the charity but meet me in my office whenever.” You made yourself smile and also made yourself look at him. He had a concerned expression on his face but you ignored it. You added, “I’ll do it free of charge, of course,” in case he thought you were going to ask him for money.

Jisung smiled back and turned to Chan. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” Chan responded. “She can whip up a simple seating chart in five minutes probably, but take as long as you need. Changbin, can you come with me? Let’s start looking for our ad slots right away.”

Chan and Changbin’s conversation faded in the hallway when they left. You left soon after them, making your way to the nearest bathroom after leaving your laptop on your desk. You began rinsing every cup religiously, almost as if your life depended on it.

Jisung came up behind you, leaning on the door which you had left ajar. “Hey. Need help with that?”

You shook your head. “No thank you, Ji. They’re just cups.”

“Sure. I’ll go get started with the seating chart then.” But he didn’t move.

You rinsed the last cup and left it to dry on the counter while you toweled your hands. When you looked up, you saw that Jisung was observing you through the mirror. “What? I said I’ll meet you in my office.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. “Are you okay? Don’t bullshit me.”

You placed the towel back on its metallic hook, making eye contact with your friend. The mirror needed to be cleaned, but you could tell that Jisung was genuinely concerned. You also noticed that you were pale, except for your flushed cheeks.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. You had no wish to lie to Jisung. You two had become very close—he often worked directly with you, and you often went to dinner with him and Sun-young. In fact, this closeness had started blooming before your college graduation. As if Jisung had sensed that something wasn’t quite right with you then.

“That’s alright,” Jisung said, putting his hand on your shoulder. “Nobody expected Hyunjin to just show up like that.”

“I’m just… I’m happy, like so happy, and at the same time… I don’t know.” You shrugged, but put your hand over his. “Don’t worry, Ji. I was just surprised, I think.”

Jisung pulled gently on you until you were actually facing the real him, not his reflection. He tilted his head and stared at you right in the eyes. “I remember the look on your face after he left. I’ll never forget that. Look—I think Hwang’s a neat guy. Saves frogs and kittens, obviously great at his job, all that. But I don’t want you to get hurt all over again. You know?”

Tears immediately welled up in your eyes as something tugged at your heart. You nodded slowly, feeling bare and vulnerable under Jisung’s piercing gaze, and yet safe. Relieved. “I know,” you replied, your voice small and a little shaky. “It’s okay, Ji.” You cleared your throat and wiped the corners of your eyes. “Let’s go work on your wedding seating chart, shall we?”

Jisung chuckled. “Oh, I lied about that. I just wanted to talk to you in private, which we did.”

You slapped him softly on the arm. “Dammit, Han!”

Jisung’s laugh warmed up your heart and you felt better instantly. He said he would go help the other two but that you could come to talk to him if you wanted. “Or you can just come work in Chan’s office if you don’t want to be alone. I think we’ll be leaving soon though…”

But Chan’s office was probably the last place you wanted to be. So you sat at your desk and tried to start working but couldn’t manage even basic photo editing properly—and no amount of coffee or soothing background music could help you. You texted the guys leaving now, see you later at Hyunjin’s place and went back home.

A long shower, a glass of wine, and several outfit changes later, you settled on a classic but flattering navy sundress. The skirt was flowy but stopped just above the knees. You decided to wear it with a distressed denim jacket and a simple but beautiful golden necklace that had been a gift from Lee Minho for your last birthday. I should call him, you told yourself as you finished applying some mascara. It’s been a while. The small pendant was cute—it was tulip-shaped.

Which also reminded you that it had been even longer than that since you had spoken with Chae—after her breakup with Minho, she had applied for a job in Busan and had moved away. Such potential wasted, and all for a stupid miscommunication issue. Things had been so good between Minho and her… until they weren’t.

Chae had needed to isolate herself after the breakup but it had been quite the opposite for Minho. One might have expected differently but he had started hanging out with you a lot more, becoming a close friend. The story was quite simple: when Chae had learned that Jisung was getting engaged, she had grown distant toward Minho, who had immediately assumed she may have had feelings for Jisung, which she had buried all these years. After all, it was a known fact that Jisung had a crush on Chae for most of their college years.

You hadn’t been able to get the full story from Chae, but you only knew that she had no romantic feelings for Jisung. The problem was elsewhere. I just don’t feel like commitment is Minho’s priority right now, was all she had said. And it hadn’t mattered, not really—the damage had been done. So they had parted ways.

Sometimes you just went on walks with Minho, or he called and asked if you wanted to go see a movie with him. He usually went home with you or you with him, and you had a few drinks and serious conversations. One night, he was slumping over the coffee table in your living room—you could hear Chan’s furious typing noises through the closed door of his bedroom—and Minho had said something that had stayed with you.

“It just doesn’t feel right to not be with her. My friends tell me to trust the process, that if she left it wasn’t meant to be, but I fucking know it in my heart that there’s nothing right about this.”

You had carried these words like a burden but also like a liberation—you weren’t crazy. You hadn’t made it up. Those feelings that you had, Minho also had them. It just explained why you were so lonely, and why you would stay lonely. You had known something that you no longer had. Something that couldn’t be replaced. And nothing had felt right ever since.

Until Hyunjin had held you in his arms today. That had felt real and that had felt right.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, neither happy nor unhappy with what you were seeing. As if it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t. The color of your dress, how much cleavage you were showing, whether your hair was shiny enough or not. He may have been your Fairytale and you may have been Tipsy to him, it didn’t change the fact that there hadn’t been anything tangible between Hyunjin and you, and that whatever had happened had occurred a long time ago. And yet, your mind often wandered back to these moments. The first kiss, in the park. The way he had pulled out a frog from his hoodie to show it to you. The feeling of his lip ring against your skin and the way he had fucked you—gently, deeply, good. His laugh, his smile. The way he always made sure your feet stayed warm.

You heard Chan’s footsteps outside of your bathroom and they stopped just by the door. “Hey, are you ready soon? The cab’s almost here,” he said with a soft voice.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, coming now.”

But you made one more stop before leaving your bedroom. You returned to your closet, digging deeper into it, until you found it. It was the same as it had always been. Hyunjin’s hoodie. The one he had left you that first night. The one you forgot to return. You felt the soft fabric under your fingertips, hesitating a few seconds before taking it off the shelf it was on.

You pressed it under your nose to inhale its scent, but it had none. Of course not. You had worn it a lot at first, after Hyunjin had left—so you had washed it often, too. You would wrap yourself in it and fall asleep like that, pretending that he was with you. Pathetic.

You quickly joined Chan waiting for you by the door—without a word, both of you went downstairs to wait for the cab you would share with Jisung, who lived near your building.

Chan shot a few glances at you—you were on your phone, drafting a short but thorough text for Chae. You wanted to hear from her. Hell, after that big project with the museum, maybe you could take a couple of days off and go pay her a visit…

“Are you really afraid of being cold? It’s summer,” Chan pointed out, motioning towards the neatly folded hoodie that you were holding.

“No.” You finished typing the sentence and sent the text, knowing that Chae would need a few days to process it anyway. You figured she had somehow found out you were close with Minho and that didn’t seem to please her very much. “I forgot to return this hoodie to Hyunjin, back in the day.”

Chan offered you a nod. “I’m still trying to figure out if we should have a conversation about this or not.” He paused, sighing. “I think that’s our cab over there.”

“There’s no conversation to be had,” you retorted. “At least not right now. I’m only one glass of wine into tonight.”

“Noted. And same, I guess we can talk after I’ve had a few shots.”

The cab in question slowed down before stopping in front of you both—you immediately saw Jisung pushing himself on the opposite side to let you and Chan in. “I still don’t know what I’ll tell you, Bang Chan.”

You pulled the door open and sat next to Jisung. He had a large bag on his knees—by the sound the bag produced when you squeezed yourselves to make space for Chan, it was filled with various bottles of alcohol.

“Thanks for running our errands,” Chan said once the car had started again, pulling his phone out. “I’ll transfer you the money right now.”

“Oh, me too.” You had asked Jisung to get you a few bottles of soju and had agreed to also share a bottle of wine.

“No it’s fine, it’s all on me guys.” By the look of it, Chan had already transferred the money.

“Thanks boss!” Jisung reached over you to slap Chan’s shoulder.

You decided to look in front of you, at the road and the cars driving around. Even the buildings were suddenly very interesting. “I’ll pay you back,” you said after a while.

“No, it’s a gift. Let’s use this evening as some sort of team-building opportunity,” Chan offered. “If we hit it off with the museum guys, I think they’ll come back to us for other projects, you know?”

“Damn, that’d be great! Government money!” Jisung seemed relaxed and you found yourself wishing you felt the same, too. Instead, you held tighter to the hoodie in your hands, letting it remind you of better days. Easier days, at least.

You never allowed yourself to think about it too much. About Hyunjin, and when he would return. If he would ever return. You only allowed abstract thoughts, nothing too tangible—hope was too heavy to carry over long periods of time. But as you scanned the scenery around the car, you slowly realized that there had been speckles of hope hidden in the darkest corners of your soul—they were coming alive tonight, and it was painful. It was beautiful. You felt them in every cell of your body, coursing through your blood.

You had never thought about what would happen if Hyunjin would return. Maybe you should have prepared for it—maybe you should have established a plan, a step-by-step procedure for that moment. But how could you have prepared for something like this?

The back of the car was growing warm despite the air conditioning—sandwiched between Jisung and Chan, you tried taking deep breaths and closing your eyes. Maybe you had drunk that glass of wine a little fast. Maybe your thoughts were wandering places you didn’t want them to go. Red lollipops, warm cuddles in a dimly lit bedroom. Slow kisses, feelings too big for the hearts that held them and for the time that had been allowed to them.

And yet, you just couldn’t forget the last Christmas party. Chan pulling up your skirt and spreading you open on his desk where he had fucked you. Tequila breaths. When you had gone to bed that night—you in your room and Chan in his, you had wondered what your life would be like if you had never met Hyunjin. A terrible thought. Something you didn’t mean, but a thought you had for half a second nonetheless. Because he had ruined you. No one in the world compared to him, not even your college crush. The kindness in his soul, the vivid memories of his tattoos and his fingers in your hair.

But you couldn’t wish that you had never met Hyunjin, even if it came with a cost. Because how could you ever want a life where you had never known something as beautiful, as real, as the moments you had spent with Hyunjin?

The drive took some time, but not too long—after a while it became easier to use the boys’ voices as background noise and forget everything. Lulled by the warmth of the day and the rocking of the car, you managed to find a semblance of peace. Or at least you liked to think so.

You found your way to Hyunjin’s floor rather easily. The building was clean and classy but not too flashy, and when Jisung knocked on the door and Wooyoung came to welcome you into Hyunjin’s home, you couldn’t help but think that his place was undeniably his.

You saw a lot at once, so much so that it took you a few seconds to process everything—you let Chan and Jisung in first, taking your time to switch from your shoes to some slippers.

It was a European-style apartment with high ceilings and large windows. The walls were plaster with a textured finish. At first glance, the furniture seemed to be a mix of modern and antique styles. It shouldn’t make sense and yet it did. Most surfaces were covered with something—a book, a piece of art, a candle, some dried flowers. You had never seen a place quite like this before. It screamed Hyunjin—the look of it, the scent of it, too. It smelled like him mixed with the scent of a lived-in place, too.

Wooyoung led Chan and Jisung away toward the rest of the apartment, but you stayed by the door for a few instants, watching as people appeared in and out of doors farther down the hallway. Part of you wanted to turn back and go home. You listened to the conversations, the voices. Changbin was already here by the sound of it, laughing about something with Hyunjin and now joined by Jisung.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? It’s your fucking party!” Jisung exclaimed. They were in the kitchen.

You took a few steps, approaching slowly. The apartment was long rather than wide, strangely narrow, but there was space for everything. You couldn’t not notice the many cardboard boxes piled up in corners of the condo, apparently still unpacked. Maybe Hyunjin didn’t deem it necessary to unpack his things—maybe he didn’t intend on staying for very long.

“I need to go get things for Mr. Pickles! I didn’t have time and he—”

Hyunjin’s sentence was cut off when he came face to face with you as he was exiting the kitchen. It was a nice kitchen, rather large, with a small dining table in the same room. You recognized most people present—Hongjoong, So-yeon and Wooyoung were there but it seemed like both HJ and So-yeon were here with their significant others. So was Changbin—his girlfriend, Ha-ri, waved at you when she noticed you. You waved back, a little taken aback but mostly distracted by Hyunjin.

He was still wearing his jeans but he had gotten out of his hoodie and had changed into a dark t-shirt with a print on it. It showed a sunset over a city, with a storm and lightning on one side. The shirt suited him, hugging his shoulders nicely but loose around the body. Your eyes traveled to his inked arms, recognizing many tattoos and also noticing designs that hadn’t been there before.

“Tipsy!” Hyunjin’s smile was bright enough that it almost made you flinch. “You’re here.” His smile didn’t waver but he stood a little awkwardly in the door frame between the kitchen and the hallway.

“Hey.” You tried to smile back but it seemed like you were frozen, glancing alternatively at Hyunjin’s face, his dazzling smile, his toned, tattooed arms. His eyes were big, the same deep brown they had always been. As silky as a cup of espresso. “I love your condo, it’s nice. Very you.” What a stupid fucking thing to say, but it was hard to think of the right words over the deafening sound of your heartbeat.

Hyunjin chuckled. “Thanks, I’m not even done unpacking though…” He leaned against the small section of the wall in between the kitchen and what seemed to be the bathroom. “I ended up buying way too many art supplies while I was in France and I have no idea how to store all of them.”

“You could buy some shelves,” you suggested, looking around. There was an opening in the hallway for a small sitting room with a round window high up on the wall—otherwise, the space was mostly empty. “It’d be great over there, don’t you think?”

“That’s a good idea. Maybe I’ll do some shopping this weekend. I’m actually headed out right now, I need to get stuff for Mr. Pickles…” He hesitated, glancing behind him at the guests around the table and then back at you. “He’s sleeping in my room now, but I need to get him actual cat food, and, uh… other stuff… right?”

You squinted, tilting your head. “You’ve never had a cat, haven’t you? Do you even know what you need to buy?” You couldn’t suppress the smile that appeared on your face.

“I have no fucking clue, do you mind coming with me?” Hyunjin said with a relieved sigh but he was still smiling. He seemed happier than he had been before, and it looked good on him. “No one here has a cat.”

Your heart jumped in your chest at the idea of being alone—really alone—with Hyunjin for the first time in over two years. You tried calming down but it was no use. You would need to get accustomed to having a small storm within you, apparently. For so long, the skies of your heart had been calm. Too calm. Neither bright nor dark, perhaps like a baby blue sky with a thin veil of clouds covering it. An in-between. And then Hyunjin came back, bringing with him hurricanes of color and warm rays of sunshine.

“Of course,” you agreed, trying not to sound too eager. You looked down at your own hands, still firmly holding the black hoodie.

Hyunjin followed your gaze. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the bundle of fabric. “Do you need to put this somewhere for later?”

“No, Fairytale. This is yours.” You handed it over. “It’s that hoodie I forgot to return before you left.”

Hyunjin stared at the hoodie but made no move to take it from you. Behind him, in the kitchen, Jisung was telling a lively story about his and Sun-young’s cake testing that had turned into a small catastrophe. You had heard that story before, but it seemed funnier now that it was punctuated by Changbin’s comments and Wooyoung’s questions. Still, you easily tuned it out, focusing on Hyunjin, warmth spreading at the back of your neck.

Finally, after what may have been an hour, Hyunjin reached for the shirt and took it in his hand, feeling the fabric of it first, an unreadable expression on his face. Then he held it with two hands for a few seconds before staring into your eyes again. “You could have kept it,” he said a little flatly, tugging at your heart. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “I wore it a little, it might not be… in perfect condition,” you chose to say. “But it’s clean.”

Hyunjin nodded too. “Well, let me put this away then, and we can get going.”

“Yeah, better come back soon or else we’ll drink all of your liquor, Hwang!” Changbin urged with a loud laugh, but then he quickly returned to Jisung’s story about the terrible cakes, especially after Ha-ri jokingly scolded him.

You followed Hyunjin to the door of his room and stayed there without going in, but he made no effort to hide anything either, leaving the door open while he put the hoodie away and grabbed his wallet.

The room had even more cardboard boxes than the entire apartment. It was relatively small and a window occupied an entire wall. The result was phenomenal lighting and a bright room—you weren’t surprised to see an easel in that corner, and although there was no canvas on it, there was some paint and brushes on the table nearby.

The bed was messily made but you still noticed the kitten on it, creating a small indentation on the blue and gray bedding. Hyunjin had also left bowls of water and canned tuna for him, but they were obviously human-sized bowls, way too big for Mr. Pickles.

“Are you gonna keep him?” you asked, motioning towards the small animal.

When he heard you, Mr. Pickles seemed to wake up. He let out a small meow and got up to go to you or maybe leave the room—in any case, you caught him before he could escape and brought him back toward the bed after closing the door behind you, ignoring the fact that you were now inside Hyunjin’s bedroom.

He closed the door of his closet after leaving the hoodie in there. “I don’t know. I really never had a cat, but I couldn’t just leave him there, you know?”

“I understand.” You let go of the kitten and he jumped effortlessly on the bed, now playing with the comforter. You watched him for a few seconds, painfully aware that Hyunjin was staring at you. “Weird to think that it would have been easier for you to rescue a frog than a kitten, don’t you think?”

You looked up when Hyunjin burst into laughter. You laughed too, and the slight tension in the room dissipated almost instantly. He still had his silly, dorky laugh, the one that you had always thought was so endearing. He laughed for longer than you, ending up sitting on the small stool near the window. You crossed the room, looking at the view behind him.

His building seemed to be one of many residential buildings surrounding a small park. There was a fountain, benches and tables and even a couple of swing sets. A few people were lazily strolling on the paved path, enjoying the last moments before the sun went down. It was a beautiful day, and you wished your heart wasn’t heavy. You wished that Hyunjin’s return brought nothing but wonder and respite, but it turned out it also brought questions and doubts.

You took a long look around the room, trying to find an answer to one of those questions—or maybe the one question that weighed the most on your mind. Most of the cardboard boxes were closed except for one and it contained small tubes of paint as well as a few pouches that must have had brushes in them. He had left the door of the closet cracked open—it was rather small, but despite that it wasn’t full, but from here you couldn’t tell whether all the clothes were his or not.

There weren’t too many decorations in the room, not as many as in the rest of the apartment. Just a few candles and a couple of decorative bowls with keys or other random knick-knacks in them. A poster for a French movie and a medium-sized framed photograph of Paris at night.

Nothing in the room made you believe that Hyunjin lived with someone else, and yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that some of these drawers might be empty, perhaps waiting to be filled with somebody’s belongings.

“I’ve never been able to see frogs the same,” Hyunjin admitted once silence had filled the room once again. “Whether it’s a cute print on a shirt, a toy, or an actual frog near a pond.” He stopped for a few seconds, the rest of his sentence lingering in the room. “I always think of Chives. And of you.”

Your heart sunk in your chest a little, but only to soar higher than ever. The urge to sit down overtook you—you were almost dizzy, but maybe it was because of the stuffiness of the room, due to the large window facing the almost-sunset. Hyunjin left his stool to sit next to you, the both of you looking at the scenery below. The park, the city, the sky’s colors slowly morphing into something else. His scent enveloped you once again, somehow different than before and yet the same.

He said nothing but he lifted his arm a little, putting it right into your field of view. It took you a few seconds to understand that he was showing you his tattoos—actually, one in particular. He even made it obvious by pointing it with his finger.

It was a very detailed blue hydrangea, the blue of it deep, reminiscent of an ocean. The stem was elegant, with pretty leaves on it. The lines of the petals were beautiful, the shading surprisingly realistic. It looked more like the actual flowers had been melted into his skin rather than tattooed with ink. It sat in between the rose, which you were familiar with, and the umbrella, which you had seen before but it looked like Hyunjin had gotten some improvements done on it since last time.

“When I got it done,” Hyunjin started, not even giving you time to react to it, “I brought the design and the tattoo artist really liked it. It was kind of early after I moved, and my French wasn’t very good… Anyway, we got it to work. After a while, he asked me if I knew the meaning of blue hydrangeas.”

You thought about it for a few seconds. “There’s a meaning to them?” The flowers had acquired a meaning for you personally after that night, the one night where everything had changed.

“Apparently.” Hyunjin’s smile faded a little, but not by much. “They mean regret or something like that. So the guy was asking me if I got the tattoo because I had regrets.”

You gulped thickly, choosing to keep your gaze on the horizon instead of looking at Hyunjin. You weren’t sure you wanted to see the look on his face right now. His eyes had the habit of speaking more than his words.

The sounds of laughter and conversation permeated the whole apartment, despite originating from the kitchen. It was a soothing presence. “Well. Did you?”

“Yes and no.” Hyunjin let his arm fall back to the side of his body. “I told him they reminded me of someone important I had before I left.”

You nodded, strangely numb. “What did he say?”

“He said, sounds like regret to me.” Hyunjin shrugged. “He was right. For two years, Tipsy, I regretted. I regretted not calling, texting more. And then I regretted not texting at all.” He paused. “All this time, all I’ve wanted to do was to apologize.”

He got up, positioning himself in front of you. It took you a few seconds to gather enough courage to look up and watch him, but you found that his facial expression was sorrowful despite the corners of his mouth still curved into a soft smile.

You frowned, also getting on your feet to observe him from up close. “Apologize for what? I didn’t text any more than you did, I—”

“I’m sorry I left,” Hyunjin blurted out. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit. And I really should have called. I should have called when I got here.”

You felt a familiar burning in your eyes, just focusing on not letting any tears spill. You held his gaze, really letting the silk of his irises coat your soul, letting that embrace comfort you. There were many emotions dancing within you, but you couldn’t have access to just one of these emotions at a time—your feelings were spilling in and out of you like waves crashing on a shore.

And yet, out of everything, your brain chose reason. “You had to go, Fairytale,” you said, forcing you to smile. “It was Paris! And look where you are now.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure where that is exactly, though.” Frowning, he reached for you and you jumped a little when his fingers caressed your cheek. A diffuse warmth spread in all of your body, settling somewhere in your gut. “I really should have called.”

Hyunjin sighed, his hand lingering on your face. His breath smelled like fruit juice. His skin was soft and warm. Familiar, but not like the distant memory it ought to have been—more like a presence that had followed you up until that point. His beauty was as striking as it had ever been, maybe more.

“Hyunjin. You have nothing to apologize about. It would have been a waste not to go.” You took the hand he had on your face into yours, squeezing it gently. “You’re here now.” You bit your lip. “Are you staying? Are you leaving after the project?”

He shook his head. “I—I wasn’t supposed to stay, but I’m staying. I decided at the last minute I guess.”

The tone of his voice suggested there was more to this part of the story but you didn’t press him—if he wanted to tell you someday, he would. All that mattered is what he had said anyway. He was staying. He wouldn’t leave in a month or two. Presumably. This was a start, wasn’t it?

But a start for what? What did you expect would even happen tonight, tomorrow, next week?

You tried chasing those thoughts away—they were of no use right now, and as you felt Mr. Pickles settle on one of the bed’s pillows beside you, you were reminded of the task at hand.

“I’m glad you’re back, Hyunjin. I really did miss you.” You made yourself smile, risking a look toward him. “But shouldn’t we head out and get this poor kitten some kibble? Do you even have a litter box for him?”

“I threw some sand I found outside into a small bin for now, but that won’t do, won’t it?” Hyunjin had a self-deprecating chuckle. “Let’s go before they indeed drink all of my booze.”

The building had indoor parking so you followed Hyunjin out to his car. “A rental,” he explained as he passed you to open the door for you. It was a normal car, maybe the most normal thing you had seen about Hyunjin so far—a black coupe, a little sporty, clean. “I mostly walk,” he added, almost as if he had read your thoughts. “Or I take the bus. The commute is really short from here to the museum.”

“It’s a nice area,” you replied as he circled the car to get behind the wheel. “And a nice car. Comfortable.” You weren’t lying. The seats were nice and the interior was black and gray with a lot of technological components.

“Yeah, I lucked out.” When Hyunjin started the car, it produced a satisfying sound and you felt the engine coming alive around you. “The condo was rented by a couple that Mr. Sang—that’s the art director who supervised my PhD—knew, and they moved away when they learned they were expecting a child. They needed extra space.”

You found yourself smiling when the car made it outside and the warm rays of the sunset hit the windows, caressing your skin. As Hyunjin was waiting for his turn to engage on the road, he turned on the radio, which seemed to play music directly from his phone. Soon, the car was filled with chill pop music. Not too loud, just enough to be a nice distraction from the long stretches of silence between Hyunjin and you.

He cleared his throat. “I saw there was a large pet store a few blocks away.” His driving was smooth and precise, and he seemed relaxed. You realized that you were calmer than you had been back there in his bedroom. When you only offered a non-committal hum as a response, Hyunjin glanced at you for a second only before reporting his attention to the road. “Can I ask you something, Tipsy? Since we have so much to catch up, we better start now.”

“Ask away,” you invited, suddenly curious. There wasn’t too much traffic, allowing the drive to be peaceful. You played nervously with the skirt of your sundress, wondering what this was all about. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Despite your eyes being glued to the road, you heard a faint smile in Hyunjin’s voice. “I just—I think I predicted something. That night, before I left. When I said you’d be with Bang Chan himself when I came back.” At this, your heart almost jumped out of your chest, but your mind became strangely empty. “Am I wrong, Tipsy?”

Hyunjin stopped the car at a red light and you wondered if you ought to open the door and walk away instead of having this conversation, not unlike you dodging a very similar conversation with Chan just earlier.

“Well you did come back to a wedding, just not mine,” you said with a joking tone, aware that you weren’t fooling him. You watched as cars crossed the intersection the other way. “But to answer your question, yes, you’re wrong. I’m not dating Chan.” You almost added, I’m not dating anybody, but figured it sounded a little too pathetic despite it being very real. “So does that mean you have a—what was it, already? A super hot French girlfriend?”

The silence that followed was somehow heavier than the several months during which you had no contact with Hyunjin. A silence that said a lot and yet nothing at all at the same time.

Hyunjin ignored your question entirely as the light turned green again and he drove forward. “Because it kind of seems like there is something between you and him.” He sighed. “Even Wooyoung asked me after the meeting.”

Why do you want to know? “We’re not dating,” you repeated. “He’s my boss. And my friend, and my roommate.”

Hyunjin let out a small gasp. “You live with him? Like, for real? And you’re gonna tell me there was never anything between you two?”

“Yeah! At first it was us two and Jisung too,” you started. You panicked when you saw Hyunjin’s facial expression. “We all have our separate rooms! But Jisung moved out when it got serious with Sun-young.”

You had made it to the pet store. At this time, the parking was almost empty—in fact, you’d have to hurry up because the store would close in about half an hour. You grabbed your bag and followed Hyunjin inside. You hated how light your heart was with him by your side. You also loved it.

“Ah, I see,” Hyunjin said with a nod after you had entered the store. You grabbed a shopping cart and leaned against it while you rolled it down the first aisle, but this one was for dog supplies, so neither of you paid much attention to it. “Still. Chan was checking you out, just saying. You might wanna keep your bedroom locked at night. Or not, if that’s what you want.”

You shoved him gently, turning onto the next aisle. “Shut the fuck up, Hwang.” There were no other clients in sight so you allowed the curse and the uncontrollable laughter that followed. “You just came back and you think you can accurately assess the situation on whether Bang Chan was checking me out during a meeting or not?”

“During the meeting, and after, and when you guys made it to my place,” Hyunjin listed, pretending to keep count on his fingers. “He was checking out your ass and your legs, to be more precise.” Hyunjin threw a glance at your legs and you were actually grateful for that—you felt a strong surge of warmth spread on your face. “Anyway. It’s none of my business, is it?”

“It’s not like you didn’t pretend you didn’t hear my question about your hot girlfriend,” you retorted with the same sarcastic voice. “But that’s none of my business, is it?”

Hyunjin looked away, now focused on the shelf on which there were food bowls for cats. When he reached out for one, you put your hand on his arm to stop him. “This one’s too big. He’s just a baby,” you pointed out. “Let’s get this one.” You grabbed a ceramic bowl of an appropriate size. It had little trees and little flowers painted on it. “And that one for his water.” The second bowl had peaches and peach blossoms on it.

Hyunjin made no effort to comment this time around either, so you simply pushed the cart onto the next aisle where you stood in front of cat food, reading labels.

“This one’s baby food,” Hyunjin said, pointing his finger at a bag. “He’s a baby.”

You looked over at the one he had found. “I don’t know this brand. I’m looking for the brand I’ve seen at Minho’s place… I’m pretty sure he would only feed the best stuff to his cats.”

Hyunjin exhaled inquisitively, raising an eyebrow. “Minho? Lee Minho? Does he work for Chan too?”

“Oh no, not at all, we stayed friends though. He has three cats.” You grabbed your phone to call Minho. You could try texting him but there was no straightforward text conversation with Minho. In general, he liked to spam people with meaningless texts before getting to the point.

Thankfully, he picked up the call. “Hey, what’s up? You calling me at this time—let me guess—you wanna get hammered?”

“Actually, no,” you replied with a laugh. “It’s a long story but I’ll make it short. Someone found a cat, and it’s really small. A kitten. We’re out trying to find food for him… I’m not sure what’s best.”

“Hm. How young do you think the kitten is? That’d make a pretty big difference.”

You turned to Hyunjin who was now looking at treats for kittens. For a second, you froze, suddenly very aware of how handsome he was. Farther down the store, two girls behind the cash register were staring at him, hands over their mouths, giggling. Not that you didn’t know that he was beautiful before, more like he was a kind of beautiful that could be witnessed from any angle and each angle brought a new emotion in you. Like he was a sculpture in a museum that deserved to be studied by scholars.

You cleared your throat. “You have no idea how old Mr. Pickles is, do you?” you asked him. He didn’t seem to notice you were speaking to him because he kept on reading labels. “Hyunjin, how old is he?”

“Oh—uh—I don’t know,” he stammered. “About this big.” He showed an approximation of the kitten’s size with his hands. “I don’t really know cat age. I can send you a picture though!”

Minho was chuckling while you watched Hyunjin get his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. “Hyunjin? You’re with a dude? You—” His voice trailed away for a second. “Hyunjin? Like, your guy? Frog guy?”

You didn’t reply for a few seconds, just enough time to gather your thoughts and also transfer the picture to Minho—it was a picture that Hyunjin had obviously taken right after coming home, showing Mr. Pickles on his pillow.

“Yeah, he’s back,” you chose to say as nonchalantly as you could. “He works at a museum and actually, they’re our clients right now, as of today. But that’s not the point. He found a cat and now we wanna feed the cat, Minho.”

“You’re with frog boy, I can’t fucking believe this. He found a cat.” Minho’s voice was full of disbelief. “We better catch up soon, I want to know everything. Get the same brand as I buy, it’s in a blue and green bag.” There was a pause. “Damn, that’s a small kitten. Better get some formula, too.”

“Formula? Like baby formula?”

“Yes, they make that for kittens that aren’t fully weaned. I’d also suggest a visit to a vet ASAP. Is frog boy keeping the cat?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You glanced behind your shoulder where Hyunjin had heard you and was carefully inspecting cans of kitten formula. “Thanks, Minho. I’ll call you this weekend.”

“You better. Say hi to frog boy for me!” Minho hung up before you could even say goodbye, and you put your phone back into your purse with a sigh, finally locating which brand Minho meant with the blue and green bag.

“Minho says hi.” You put the kibble into the cart while Hyunjin was doing the same with a pack of kitten formula—the most expensive one on the shelf.

“Oh,” Hyunjin said with a smile. “He used to call me frog boy most, if I recall correctly.” When he noticed your smile turning into a pout, Hyunjin giggled. “Don’t worry. Actually, he said it strangely lovingly.”

“I see what you mean.” You reprised your walk through the store, hurrying up now that all the aisles were empty and closing time was approaching dangerously. “He’s actually going through a rough patch—has been since Chae broke up with him.”

“What happened?” Hyunjin inquired, grabbing random cat toys without really paying much attention to what they were. “That’s too bad.”

You shrugged. “I don’t really know. Chae seems to think Minho got cold feet, but Minho says the same thing about Chae.” While Hyunjin was still chucking random toys into the cart, you went over to select a box and some litter sand. “It’s too bad.”

Hyunjin nodded slowly, putting himself in front of the cart so you couldn’t keep pushing it toward the register. “Was he busy tonight? Could he come over to hang out? Maybe that would distract him.”

Something reminiscent of a sunrise grew in your chest, coating your heart with an amber luminescence as memories flooded your mind. Hyunjin keeping shared custody of a dog to help his elderly neighbor. Hyunjin helping you get your mind off things by handing you a live frog. Hyunjin moving back here to help a man who wanted to retire soon. Hyunjin taking care of you when you were drunk. Hyunjin giving, giving, giving. What happened to these people? To those who constantly burdened themselves with the worries of others?

“Thanks, Fairytale. I’ll text him when we’re back in the car.” You looked somewhere behind Hyunjin. “I think these girls want us to pay for our purchases so they can close the store.”

“Oh! Of course!” Hyunjin apologized profusely as he approached the employees and you both put the items on the counter so they could ring them. He explained that he had found a kitten and needed last minute supplies for him.

Was he oblivious to the fact that these girls cared very little about Mr. Pickles’ backstory and were a lot more focused on Hyunjin’s good looks, his tattoos, his cool hair? If he noticed, he didn’t let it show.

The sun was setting outside and a soft breeze caressed your legs as you helped Hyunjin put the bags into the trunk of the car. “Were the summers good in Paris?”

“Honestly? Not so much,” Hyunjin chuckled and started the car after you had put your seatbelt on. “It’s just really humid and there isn’t a lot of shade. Also, people don’t really have air conditioning, so I just thought I would die.”

You couldn’t help but laugh with him. “I really did miss you, you know.”

“I missed you too, Tipsy. Thanks for coming along.”

You nodded, sparing yourself of having to utter a response. Instead, you texted Minho, relaying Hyunjin’s invitation to him. Minho thought you were joking at first, but when you insisted, you could sense some sort of warmth in his following texts, despite him politely declining the invitation. Another time, maybe. I’m tired. Big week at work. Say thanks for me, please.

Hyunjin seemed deeply sorry to know Minho couldn’t make it, but for the rest of the car ride, he chose to ask you questions about your job. You found that he didn’t deflect your questions too much if they were about his career, too. He seemed particularly interested in your approach to your designs, and the more you talked with him, the better you felt. Slowly, the rift that had been created between the two of you by time closed in and you could barely feel it anymore. Truly, it was as if he had never left.

You helped Hyunjin carry all the cat supplies to his apartment, although it took a little longer than it should have because Hyunjin had to mute two incoming calls on the way up. “Just work stuff, I’ll get to that later,” he said dismissively once you had reached the door to his place.

The ambiance in there was slightly more charged than it had been earlier—there was music playing and the guests were scattered around the apartment in small groups, drink in hand, talking excitedly. Although you couldn’t see everything from the entrance door, you felt a strange sense of comfort seeing all these people together, and hearing their laughter.

Hyunjin had already taken his shoes off and was looking in one of the bags. “I think I’ll wash all the bowls first and then put the food in it. Right?”

“You’re a cat dad genius,” you retorted with a laugh. “All that frog experience is really paying off, don’t you think? Maybe you should give up the whole art career thing and just start a zoo or something.” But really, you remembered his old neighbor’s dog, too—Chris the samoyed, the big fluffy angel with a never ending appetite. You weren’t sure you ought to ask about him yet, so you left it there.

Hyunjin shot you a falsely annoyed glance, but his face was illuminated with a smile. “Sure thing, Tipsy. Good one.” He giggled and walked away, immediately swallowed by Hongjoong and Jisung who were in a deep debate about the best type of coffee beans.

You went to check on Mr. Pickles in Hyunjin’s room, also offering him a few of his new toys at the same time. It didn’t take very long until he had a favorite—a little catnip butterfly. In fact, he entered a ferocious war with it, pawing it away in and down the bed, chasing it playfully. You took time to take a few more pictures for Minho, and joined the others.

Hyunjin was in the kitchen with Jisung, Hongjoong, his girlfriend and Chan. Hyunjin was at the sink, carefully washing everything that needed to be washed, while Jisung was helping him by drying the dishes.

You sat at the table with the others, wasting no time pulling toward you one of the wine glasses that had been set next to a bucket of ice containing three bottles and pouring yourself a generous glass of sauvignon blanc. It was hard not to notice the not-so-subtle glances that Chan was giving you, but he was talking with Hongjoong so you chose to speak with his girlfriend who was complimenting you on your dress and asking if it had pockets. Of course it had pockets, and so did hers, and you talked for a little while about your favorite places to shop for summer clothes. In that very short conversation, she also asked you about your job and if it was exhausting to work with all these guys.

Jisung responded for you. “Of course not. We’re all super chill,” he said, failing spectacularly at keeping a straight face.

You almost choked on your wine. “Yeah, yeah, that office is very calm all the time—zen gardens, flute and harp music, a massage salon. Nobody and I say nobody ever yells in the confines of this office. Monks envy me, really. I am surrounded by nothing but peace.”

At this, the whole room burst into laughter loud enough to alert the other guests in the rest of the apartment, and they came to inquire about what was so funny. Soon enough, the joke had been extrapolated to perhaps thinking about converting the business into a prayer temple. At that point, Hyunjin had left the room to go give the kitten his food and water, and guests were discussing about ordering some food.

You looked around, at the friendly group of people, at the view from the kitchen window. It was dusk by now, with only a sliver of light at the horizon. You noticed the door here led to a small balcony and, after giving your food order, snuck outside with a fresh glass of wine.

The air was cooler than earlier but not by much. You watched down below, at the park in the center of the apartment buildings. A few children were laughing and running around, probably brought out there by their parents to let them exhaust the last of their energy so they would perhaps accept to go to bed soon. The wine was cool and crisp, and you were trying to be happy.

You were happy. Right? Wasn’t today supposed to be a celebration of sorts? Hadn’t you waited two whole years for today to happen, specifically? Hadn’t you wished for Hyunjin’s return?

Yes, of course, you had—a lot. At first, his absence had been like a part of your soul had been ripped apart. Not that you had been given a lot of time with him, but you knew that if he had stayed, something would have come out of it. Something beautiful, and meaningful.

But you did know that you ought to be happy about him coming back, so why was your heart so heavy?

From here, you could not only see into Hyunjin’s kitchen but part of the hallway, too, and one tiny corner of his room. The light was on there and you even saw Mr. Pickles walking along the window, no doubt to go feast on his new food. The light was dimmed and, soon later, Hyunjin returned to the kitchen, immediately pulled to the side by Jisung and Hongjoong, and the three of them started talking about something on Jisung’s phone. You watched as Hyunjin glanced around the room as if he were looking for something.

You observed him. His smile, the way his hair elegantly fell to the side of his face and he often had to brush it away, exposing his sharp jawbone, his beautiful traits. To you, it seemed like he had changed a lot and so little at once. You found yourself wishing that it was just him and you here, and nobody else. You found yourself wishing you hadn’t come at all.

You jumped when the door was pushed opened and Chan appeared on the balcony. He clicked the door closed behind him using his shoulder. He was holding a beer. “Hey,” he said. “Was wondering where you went.” He took a few steps toward you, leaning onto the high railing much like you did. He, too, watched the people in the park. “I really think we should talk.”

You cleared your throat, choosing to swallow some wine before replying to him. “I don’t know what to say, Chan.”

He seemed concerned. Despite everything—above everything, too, Chan was your friend, and you didn’t like to see him like that. “Should I leave then?”

Your heart leaped in your chest and you clutched at that wine glass like your life depended on it. “No, of course not,” You did look into Chan’s eyes then. He was frowning, and you knew he was right anyway. “I just… I know we have to talk.”

He bit his lower lip, hesitating before reaching for you and softly caressing your cheek for just two or three seconds. “I really did fuck up that night, the party at my place. I know it was a while ago but… When I… when I saw you leave with that guy, I just…”

That guy. Your gaze suddenly flicked from Chan to the window behind him, showing the kitchen where the get-together was still going strong with So-yeon apparently pouring shots for every guest. But that was not what you were looking for. You found Hyunjin at the back, a shot glass in both hands, looking left and right, often staring at the hallway and where the bathroom door was located. He’s waiting for someone, a voice in your head said. What if it’s me? The hope in your heart, the one you had somehow managed to keep on a leash, seemed to be awakening. You wanted to blame the wine for this, but really, you knew you were doomed from the moment Hyunjin had pulled you into his embrace earlier. You could still feel it, him, his body, his arms around you.

Chan followed your gaze, looking through the window just like you were doing. You heard him sigh, just under his breath, barely any loud enough for you to hear over the sounds of parents gathering their kids back together to head back home.

“Do you love him?” he asked, not hesitating. His voice was soft, though. “I’ll back off if you do.”

You gulped thickly. Minho had asked you the same question sometime last year, out of concern for you: did you love him? And you hadn’t been able to say no. You just hadn’t been able to say yes either, because you didn’t understand love, and you weren’t sure what had happened with Hyunjin amounted to. Friendship? A special bond?

Love?

“I don’t know, Chan.” Your voice was shaking a little bit.

“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage either.” Finally, Chan’s smile was back. It was a little faint, but it was there. “I’d just prefer know now rather than later.”

His eyes were almost playful, but you did see regret in them. You couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t stumbled that night, if you hadn’t run into Hyunjin in line for the bathroom. If he hadn’t had a frog in his pocket.

“I—it was so hard when he left,” you admitted finally, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Chan, I don’t think I can… I don’t think that you and I…”

He interrupted you with a lot of grace. “It’s okay, I get it. Thank you for being honest with me.”

You nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’m sorry I’m so…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Chan’s smile was bittersweet. “What happened, happened.” Chan touched you again, pushing your hair out of your face. “Just be careful, please? We all hated seeing you become so sad after he left.”

You nodded, trying to forget that sting that had remained with you since the day Hyunjin had left. Even now that he was back, the pain lingered. Like a scar, like an old injury that refused to heal. “Let’s go back inside,” you suggested, “before they wonder where we went.”

Both you and Chan were eager to put an end to this embarrassing conversation so you followed him back inside. Your wine was empty by now but you managed to sneak your way through the guests to reach for the bottle… which was also empty.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got more.” Hyunjin had appeared, almost magically, to your right. He was still holding two shot glasses, both still full. “I thought you’d want to try So-yeon’s fancy tequila.” He handed you one of the glasses with an unreadable expression on his face.

Whenever Hyunjin was around, it was as if all of the heavy, gloomy fog that burdened your heart just disappeared. There was something in his presence that appeased you immediately, no matter what. Even when he was the cause of your torment.

You just couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, more free booze!” You took the glass from him and, after clinking glasses, you both drank the contents.

The tequila was flavorful and strong, sweet with agave and with notes of spice. It warmed up your mouth and seemed to shock your brain a little.

“Oh, that’s a good one!” Hyunjin looked at the bottom of his empty glass as if he couldn’t believe it. “So-yeon, where’d you get that tequila at?”

So-yeon was a little farther, in the hallway, chatting with Changbin. She shrugged. “It was a gift. I brought it here so keep it if you want, I prefer vodka anyway.”

Hyunjin did not waste a second—he grabbed the bottle from the counter and hid it in one of the cupboards, glancing at you playfully. “I’m keeping this, it’s too good,” he told you under his breath. “We’ll have some, you and I, sometime soon. Yeah?”

You had a good evening. Things were still awkward between Chan and you, but you managed to have conversations like normal people, especially when other guests were close. You spoke a lot with everybody, and a little with Hyunjin, too—as soon as the food arrived, he took it upon himself to give everybody plates and utensils and make sure everyone had what they needed. Jisung helped him out, so you let him, remembering that, after all, Jisung had known Hyunjin way before you did.

Chan and Changbin left first with the excuse of having work to do—you knew it was true, but you also knew Chan just wanted to be as far away from you as he could and that Changbin and Ha-ri just wanted to watch a movie together, but it was fine. Hongjoong also left with his girlfriend, and So-yeon followed—soon enough, it was just you, Jisung, Wooyoung and Hyunjin in the living room. You talked a lot but you listened even more as Hyunjin told stories about France and Paris.

“At first I barely got any rest,” Hyunjin said with a chuckle. “Every occasion I got, I went somewhere, all the tourist spots. Le Louvre, Notre-Dame de Paris, Eiffel Tower, Orsay, you know, all that stuff. After a while though, I would just go out and… observe. I’d just take a taxi, or a bus, or a train somewhere and spend a day there, talking to locals, trying new foods… that was the best part.”

“Oh, I bet you mingled plenty with the locals,” Wooyoung retorted, nudging Hyunjin a little into the couch, playfully. “We know what you mean you barely got any rest! Those Paris girls, am I right?”

You almost choked on your small sip of sweet port but managed to make it look like a normal cough. However, Jisung made no effort to conceal the concerned look he shot at you, and Hyunjin was now avoiding your gaze as though eye contact would kill him. Wooyoung, however, was understandably mostly oblivious to the sudden tension in the room and kept talking about French girls but also French food—apparently both of these things were very much worth eating.

You swallowed the wine but it was no longer sweet, it just tasted bitter. You mumbled an excuse that you were going to the bathroom and quickly got up to escape the discomfort in the room—however, as you did so, you stood up so fast that you spilled a good portion of wine on your jacket. It was hard to be even more embarrassed than you already were, so you just went on your way, relieved to leave the living room as tears pricked your eyes.

You pressed your back against the closed door of the bathroom, grateful for it, grateful for this safe space. The bathroom wasn’t large, but it had a clawfoot bathtub and a few plants on the windowsill. You took a deep breath, and another, trying to calm down. Trying to find some semblance of peace within you.

You—or anybody—would be dumb to believe that Hyunjin hadn’t dated some girls in Paris. The man was basically a fashion model. He was also an artist, and kind, and he smelled nice. He fucked really good. This, you knew very well. You often thought of him at night when your hand trailed between your legs. You thought of the weight of his body on yours, his full lips all over your body, on your pussy…

You swallowed a strangled sob, which you blamed on being tired from work and from spilling port on your jacket. You tried your best to dry your eyes without messing with your mascara and stepped in front of the sink to assess the damage. Yeah, the denim of your jacket was pale, and there was a fuckton of expensive port on it…

Anybody would have been dumb to believe that Hyunjin hadn’t dated while he was in Paris. For all you knew, he was still dating somebody to this day. However, it didn’t mean that you wanted to think about it. It didn’t mean it did not hurt you to imagine him walking hand in hand with a sexy French girl, perhaps eating macarons with her and fucking her hard in their cozy romantic Paris apartment. Did he like her when she spoke to him in French? Did it make him cum when she did so?

You splashed some cool water over your reddened cheeks as a lame attempt to chill the fuck down. You were going to exit this bathroom and go back home. Normally, you and Ji were supposed to wait for a car together but you’d just leave this apartment right now and get on a bus and go home. You didn’t want to be there anymore.

The more you were around Hyunjin, the more it became obvious that his heart belonged elsewhere. How could you blame him? He had spent a lot more time in Paris than with you. You simply had been foolish enough to wait for him.

Not exactly deliberately, though. But still, you had been waiting for him, knowing full well you were basically waiting to be disappointed. The truth was that you couldn’t just go on a date with Chan, because you liked him. After a while, maybe you’d even love him. It would make one hell of a story too—college crushes falling in love years later. It could have happened, it would have happened.

But Chan wasn’t Hyunjin. So it wasn’t fair to Chan. The problem was—and it really was a major problem—that only Hyunjin would ever be Hyunjin. There would be no other like him, ever. Would you be waiting all of your life for something that would never come?

A knock on the door made you jump. You let out a soft gasp and turned toward the door, panicking, frantically drying the new tears that had appeared on your cheeks, making sure your mascara hadn’t stained your skin as if the door was actually see-through.

“It’s me.” It was Hyunjin and, at that realization, your heart raced in your chest. “Are you alright?”

You stood, frozen in place as if you had forgotten words. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what your voice would sound like if you spoke—would it be too obvious that you had been crying? Out of the people still present in this apartment, he was the last one you wanted to be aware that you had cried. You didn’t want him to know.

You didn’t want him to know that you had been waiting for him all this time.

“Tipsy, I know you’re in there,” Hyunjin insisted, softening his voice. Tipsy. Despite everything, the nickname brought a faint smile to your face, warming up your insides. “Open the door, will you? I have a special product for wine stains. If you want.” He sounded like he was talking into the door, his mouth pressed against it, as if he only wanted to be heard by you. Like a secret.

Realistically, you couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever, so you unlocked the door and let Hyunjin in. He seemed concerned, his bleached hair a little more messy than earlier. Still, he offered you a reassuring smile, not clicking the door behind him, but not letting it wide open either.

“Damn, that’s a bad stain,” Hyunjin pointed out with one glance at your jacket. “Still can’t hold your liquor. You really haven’t changed, Tipsy.”

You watched him open a cabinet under the sink and go through bottles until he found the wine stain removal spray. “And you really haven’t changed either, Fairytale. Always saving drunk girls from themselves.”

“I’ve seen you drunker than this,” Hyunjin pointed out with a playful smile on his full lips. “Technically, I’m saving you from the sweet port that Changbin brought.”

You nodded with a gulp, the knot in your stomach slowly coming undone. Hyunjin’s presence worked almost as well as the IV of painkillers they’d given you when you had gotten your wisdom teeth pulled out. Immediate relief. He was the kill switch for whatever part of your brain was responsible for stress.

“You’re right. It’s actually Changbin’s fault specifically.”

“I couldn’t have said it better!” Hyunjin proceeded to take a step toward you. “May I proceed?” he questioned, motioning at your jacket. “S’il vous plaît, mademoiselle.”

The French was overkill, and yet it sent a shock of electricity through your body. The consonants hit the top of Hyunjin’s mouth and his lips so delightfully that it made you blush, and you hadn’t been particularly sensitive to French before. He had an adorable accent, too, and a warm smile. Mademoiselle sounded so pretty in his mouth, but also like a dangerous promise.

You gave him permission to proceed, so Hyunjin began to work. He slid a hand under your jacket, his fingers brushing your bare collarbone, and brought the bottle over the stain to spray the product over it. His hand was dangerously warm on your skin, almost as if he was feverish. And that fever was contagious, because a strange warmth engulfed you from head to toe.

You studied his face from up close, the moles adorning his honey skin, the holes where his numerous piercings used to be. His hair falling over the side of his face like a curtain of the richest silk. You could smell him, too. His cologne, his boozy breath. Him.

“I should probably take the jacket off,” you offered, your voice shaking a little bit. Not that you didn’t like that closeness with him, but you were so warm that you thought you were about to burst into flames.

“Ah, I guess that would work better,” Hyunjin admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle.

He didn’t let you do it yourself—Hyunjin gently pulled on your jacket, removing it from your shoulders, then your arms. His hands on your skin left residual warmth and pressure.

Did he do this to girls in Paris, too? Did he make a point of standing close to them until his beauty made them dizzy? Was Hyunjin fully unaware of his charisma?

He cleared his throat before carefully laying your jacket on the counter. “I—I like your dress,” he said, obviously a little uneasy.

You took a step back as your brain immediately told you that it was you who were making him tense. Had he maybe noticed you had cried? “Oh, thanks. It’s more of a comfort thing.” The fabric of the dress was very soft and breathable, for which you were very grateful for tonight in that tiny bathroom, barely a few feet away from the man who had once fucked you so good he had ruined anyone else for you.

Hyunjin nodded in silence, spraying layers upon layers of this product with very little to no effect on the wine stain. He sighed. “That was a lot of port,” he pointed out.

“Let me. It’s my mess after all.” You went to the sink and quickly read the instructions on the bottle before deciding to run some hot water on the jacket. Hyunjin stayed right there, by your side. You could feel his arm brush against you whenever you moved, and it made you shiver.

“I’ll get you another jacket,” Hyunjin started, stopping halfway through his sentence. “Wait, don’t I also owe you a pair of boots?”

You thought about it, laughing in the end. “I think you said that, but both times I ruined things because of my own clumsiness. Don’t worry about it.”

There was a pause during which you could only hear the water running from the tap and gently splattering on the porcelain in the sink. When you turned it off, you heard Jisung and Wooyoung’s voices coming from farther down the apartment, still near the living room.

“I owe you something else too,” Hyunjin started. His voice was low, strained. “Don’t you remember?”

You did. You remembered a little too well the day you had gone with him to release Chives-the-cute-frog in a pond. You both had said so many things that day that you didn’t expect he would remember anything at all, not after having spent two wonderful years in Paris, so far away from you. Surely, he had many things on his mind other than this. Other than you.

And yet, before he left, Hyunjin still promised to take you on a date—and he remembered it.

As you went to say something though, footsteps came from the hallway and stopped right by the bathroom. There was a shy knock. “Hey, everything okay in here?” It was Jisung. “I—uh—I was gonna leave, and Wooyoung too, so we thought of sharing a cab… if you wanna come with?”

You gulped, taking a deep breath. As you lifted your head to look away from the now submerged jacket, you caught Hyunjin’s reflection in the mirror. He was staring at you intensely as if he was awaiting your response more than Jisung was.

“We’re okay,” you started, “I spilled some wine on my jacket.”

Jisung timidly pushed the door open. He glanced at Hyunjin first, and then at you, obviously assessing the situation before continuing. “Oh, I see. I—uh—the night is a little cool I think, but you should be fine in the cab.”

You turned to Jisung. The truth was you didn’t want to leave this place. You never wanted to leave this place, maybe, but that was a little exaggerated. You had been without Hyunjin for so long. You had been without Hyunjin a lot more than you had been with him, and you wanted to hear his voice again. You wanted to feel his arm brush on your side again. And again. And again.

The truth was, also, that you had to leave this place. Because there were embers burning inside of you, and you knew that Hyunjin could either ignite or suffocate the fire. Somehow, you figured he could do both at once.

Hyunjin spoke before you could. “You guys are leaving already?” It was almost midnight, but he acted as if it was early in the evening. “I was in the mood to watch a movie.”

“Wooyoung’s pretty wasted…” Jisung stared at Hyunjin with a slight squint, as if he was trying to decipher him. “His place is on his way to mine apparently, so I figured…”

Maybe you’d regret ever uttering it, but you did. Besides, you could be crazy, but it was almost as if Hyunjin had used an impromptu movie night as some sort of escape. As if he, too, needed an excuse to prolong the night. “You go with Wooyoung, I think I’ll stay here and watch a movie.”

Jisung stared at you, then at Hyunjin, then at you again. “You sure?”

No, you weren’t sure. But you had missed Hyunjin more than you ever thought you could miss something. You had managed to keep it quiet—the yearning, the emptiness he had left behind. The hunger. It had been hard and your soul had paid one hell of a toll for it, but you had made yourself numb to it all. Most of the time anyway. But now that he was here, now that your body remembered what it was like to be embraced by him, now that his sweet voice had permeated your skin, the longing had taken over you.

You just wanted to be with him a little longer. For as long as you could, really, before your hope shattered once again. Because it would, wouldn’t it?

Because you couldn’t be the first—or the only—girl he called mademoiselle. What was the harm in pretending that you were, just for tonight?

“I’m sure.” You gave Jisung a stiff nod. “You go ahead. I’ll head back home later.”

“It’s gonna be pretty late.” Jisung wasn’t the kind to insist. He usually was pretty easy going, and preferred to hide his concerns. “You’ll call a cab?”

“My couch is pretty comfortable,” Hyunjin interjected. “I won’t mind sleeping on it if she wants to go home tomorrow morning.”

Jisung let out a sigh, shaking his head slowly, almost as if he was waving a white flag. Still, in his eyes, you saw a clear message: I warned you. He retreated, and you heard him inquire about the taxi to Wooyoung in the other room.

“I can take the couch,” you offered, turning around to face Hyunjin again. “What movie do you wanna watch?”

Hyunjin kept a stern look for about 0.02 seconds before breaking into a guilty smile. “I lied. I just… I just wanted to hang out with you. Wanna go to the park downstairs and get some fresh air?”

You put your hand over your mouth to muffle the sound of your laughter—you didn’t want Jisung to think you were making fun of him or anything. You took a deep breath to calm down. “We do have a history with parks I guess.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think we’ll try to release Mr. Pickles in that one.” Hyunjin winked at you. “I should probably check on him. Want me to bring you that hoodie you returned to me today?” He shrugged with a look at your ruined jacket.

“Sure, as ironic as it can be, I’ll take it.” You let Hyunjin leave the bathroom and locked the door after. Your heart was beating fast in your chest. After using the restroom, you took a lot of time to cool yourself down with cold water and to wring out your stupid jacket before leaving it to dry on the edge of the bathtub. There would be no removing that stain, it seemed.

When you returned to join the others, Hyunjin and Wooyoung were having a quiet conversation by the entrance while Jisung scrolled on his phone a little farther. Wooyoung seemed deeply amused—in fact, his cackling alarmed you enough that you frowned when he and Hyunjin stepped aside in the living room, disappearing momentarily.

“Tell me you’ll be careful,” Jisung begged, lifting his gaze from his phone. “Please? If not, I’ll have Minho kick your ass, also Hyunjin’s ass.”

“You couldn’t have anyone kicking anybody’s ass, Ji. You’re too soft for that.” You nudged him playfully, causing him to laugh with you. “Say hi to your girl for me, will you?”

“Sure thing. Look—I’ll leave my phone off silent mode. Call me if you need. Deal?”

Truly, you were grateful for Jisung. “Deal.” You shot a furtive glance at the living room door, from which you were hearing quiet voices and whispers. “I really did miss him.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jisung was smiling now. “I think he missed you too. Oh, shit, car’s almost here.” He knocked gently at the wall separating the hallway from the living room. “Wooyoung, time to go.”

Wooyoung reappeared instantly, followed by Hyunjin who was now avoiding your gaze again. Was he having regrets? Maybe you should leave with the guys, maybe—

“Alright, you guys have fun!” Wooyoung turned to you with a wink. “Watching the movie I mean!”

“He’s so fucking wasted—I—” Jisung groaned, opening the door and letting Wooyoung out. “I’ll try to get him home safely in one piece. See you, guys.” And just like that, he left.

Just like that, you were alone with Hyunjin again.

There were a few awkward seconds where both of you stood there, several feet away from each other, just staring at one another. It was Hyunjin who spoke first. “Mr. Pickles was sleeping—I think he went a little hard on the catnip. Still wanna go outside?”

“I’d love to.” And you meant it, too—for some reason, you thought things would be less awkward if you weren’t in between four walls. Maybe. “Unless you actually want to watch a movie.”

“Not really. Let’s go outside. For old times’ sake.”

Hyunjin gave you the hoodie you had just returned—it felt like going home when you wrapped it around yourself, when the soft fabric caressed your skin. For years, you had kept it close because it reminded you of Hyunjin. There were nights where you remembered him vividly. After a dream sometimes, or because you had seen something that reminded you of him that day. You usually cried a lot those nights, masturbated a lot, too, but you always ended up snuggling into that hoodie to sleep.

For a while, it was the only way you could feel him again. Not really him, like a ghost copy of him, but still.

The night was indeed cooler than you had expected, much cooler than it had been earlier out on the balcony, but you welcomed it, hoping it would conceal the nearly-constant flush on your face. Hyunjin was only in a t-shirt but he didn’t seem to mind—he had always been warm anyway.

“The park made me really want to live here,” Hyunjin explained as you circled around the building to reach a little locked gate leading to the courtyard. After typing his code onto the keyboard to unlock it, Hyunjin opened the gate for you and let you in first. “Après vous, mademoiselle Tipsy.”

“You seem to be very knowledgeable about your French courtesies,” you said, but really it was just to distract yourself, once again, from Hyunjin’s accent. “Must have been pretty popular.”

“Actually, people in Paris specifically don’t give a single—and I really mean, not even one—flying fuck about courtesy or politeness.” Hyunjin chuckled, closing the gate behind him before you both began to walk on the narrow path. It was quiet in this part of the city, and you liked it. “No offense to them, though. You get used to it. We’re here.”

Indeed, you were—the path led to the back of Hyunjin’s building. Other buildings were sharing the same courtyard, which was empty at this hour of the night. It was dimly lit but you could clearly see a few trees, some swing sets, and several benches. The fountain was in the middle of it, the soft flapping sounds of water giving the place a relaxing vibe.

“I also didn’t really have a place to be outside at where I lived,” Hyunjin went on. He was walking toward one of the swing sets. “So that’s why I like it here.”

You followed him in silence and watched as Hyunjin sat in one of the swings, wrapping his fingers around the chains. He pushed himself gently, swinging slowly in the night. The chains made a slight, barely audible squeaking sound.

There was a frown on your face. “Were you happy? In Paris?” you questioned, genuinely concerned. “You… You said there was so much to do there, right? And you got to go to that really famous school, and—and—meet new people, too.”

For a few seconds, Hyunjin didn’t say anything. You gave him some metaphorical space and let him think that over while you took a seat on the swing next to him, afraid that the effects of the alcohol previously ingested would hit, making it harder for you to stand for a long time.

“I wasn’t unhappy in Paris.” Hyunjin’s voice was quiet, barely any louder than the squeaking of the chains. “I just… I don’t think I was happy either.”

This hit something inside of you, deep, as if he had tugged at your heartstrings. You watched as he put his feet back on the ground, braking gently before turning to you. “What about you, Tipsy? Have you been happy?”

If Hyunjin hadn’t magically returned into your life today, and if somebody else would have asked you that question, you might have answered yes. To avoid awkward follow-up questions, but also because, much like him, you hadn’t been truly unhappy.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” But you wanted to say, no, I wasn’t really happy. You couldn’t, of course—because it was only by having him back that you understood what happiness could be. It was only because he was back that you knew you hadn’t known much of it while he was gone, and that was too heavy of a burden for him to bear.

Hyunjin gave you a nod, leaning his head on the chain to rest it there. In this light, he looked a lot like the boy who had kissed you senseless in a park much like this one. The piercings may not be there anymore and his hair may be longer, but Hyunjin was still undeniably him. He was even more handsome, if that was even possible. You stared at him for a long time, taking in the details of him. The curve of his lips, his round nose, the way it looked when the breeze ran through his hair.

“How long did you and Chan date for?” he asked without any warning, and you almost fell from your swing. “I don’t believe you. What you said earlier. That there was nothing between you two. He didn’t seem okay after you guys talked on the balcony, and he left early.”

The gentle warmth on your cheeks had turned into dangerous heat. You felt it radiating from your skin and there was very little the soft breeze could do about it.

“We never dated. Never went on a date,” you whispered slowly. “Why don't you believe me?” And why does it matter to you? you almost added, but stopped yourself at the last second. Instead, you said nothing.

Hyunjin took his time, thinking it all over perhaps. “I don’t know. I believe you I guess, but I also don’t.” In the distance, the sound of sirens managed to fill the awkward silence filling the space between him and you. “Sorry. We don’t have to talk about this. I guess—I guess… I don’t want him to have hurt you in any sort of way.”

Hyunjin turned away then, looking at the small opening between the two buildings in front of you to watch the few cars stop at a red light.

“He didn’t hurt me,” you assured. Maybe you were a little disappointed. Maybe some crazy part of your brain had been hoping Hyunjin just really, really wanted you to be single. And yet, despite it all, tonight really felt like being reunited with a close friend, and you had things weighing on your heart. “What about you, Fairytale? You’re avoiding all the questions everybody asks about girls. So, what’s her name? What happened?”

You didn’t know what you expected then—that he wouldn’t be able to give you just one name, that he kept a small notebook with all the super sexy French girls he fucked while he was gone. You knew what your heart was hoping for though—that Hyunjin would say there had been nobody at all. But that was selfish, and wrong. Of course.

But somehow, what Hyunjin said next hurt you more than anything your silly heart had prepared for.

He sighed, wrapping his hand around the swing’s chain again. “Camille,” was all he said at first, and time froze.

You froze, both very aware and numb at once, sinking into someplace dark. Sinking into the space in between the streetlights illuminating the courtyard. Sinking into the squeaking of the swing.

“We broke up just before I left,” Hyunjin went on, finally making eye contact with you. He seemed tense. “She didn’t want to come with me. She didn’t want me to leave Paris either. I… I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t happy there and I wasn’t happy with her. She said that if I left, I’d be choosing my job over her. And now I’m here, so you can guess what happened.”

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—you wanted to get up and pace around the park, feel the grass underneath you, feel the muscles of your legs get to work. You wanted to walk, and walk, leave this place, and go back home. Not even home. You wanted to walk until your feet were sore, until your body hurt all over.

You had it all wrong. Hyunjin wasn’t insisting about you and Chan because he was jealous, or because he was concerned—it was out of guilt. He, most likely, was realizing that you had indeed been waiting for him all this time while he had moved on. Of course he had moved on. Of course. Even a failed relationship was a relationship, after all.

“I’m sorry I asked,” you muttered, looking at your feet. “I’m sorry she didn’t come with you here, Hyunjin.” You frowned, remembering the conversation you had with him earlier. “But it’s just a temporary job, isn’t that what you said? Why choose to stay here if she’s back there? Why weren’t you happy with her? Don’t you miss her?”

Hyunjin shook his head, his blond hair swaying with him. “I don’t.” He sighed, a long, tired sigh. “She said she loved me, but I don’t think I loved her back. Not the right way, at least.”

Hyunjin pushed himself up but didn’t go very far—he stood, leaning on the swing set’s structure, hands in his pockets. “When you know what love feels like, Tipsy, it means you also know when there’s an absence of it.”

You stayed there for a few seconds, processing the situation. Processing the feeling of the hoodie on your skin, processing Hyunjin’s words, too. He was right.

“So was there another girl before Camille?” you questioned, your voice so small it was actually a little embarrassing. “The girl that you loved, I mean.” You stood up too, unable to stay in place anymore. You joined Hyunjin on his side, leaning on the iron bar next to him. “I just—I can’t believe you weren’t happy in Paris. It was your dream.”

“I wasn’t unhappy in Paris,” Hyunjin reminded you. “You know, it was my dream, remember? Paris, and to be an art director. But while I was there—actually, just two months before I left—there was a professor at the university who was injured and they needed someone quickly to give art history lectures. So I went.”

You felt a little more comfortable now that the topic was shifting away from Camille—she was very tangible to you at this moment, almost as if she stood right here in between Hyunjin and you. Tall, skinny, perfect. Did she smell sweet? Did he like to fuck her in the mornings, at night? Did he like to call her mademoiselle, too? Why did it feel like you had fallen into the end of the world and were struggling to get out of it?

“Woah, really?” You could very easily picture Hyunjin in a lecture hall, speaking relentlessly and passionately about art, about paintings, about colors and what they meant and didn’t mean. “Did you like it?”

“If I liked it?” Hyunjin scoffed and a smile returned to his face, like a sunrise over a lake. “God, Tipsy, I loved it. I loved it so much. I even got to grade papers, everything! I had my office, and students would request meetings with me to discuss their grades or their essays… I spent so much time in the library constructing my lectures and making them interesting…”

There was one thing about Hyunjin—whenever he was passionate about something, it showed. As if he became transparent, showing the fire burning in his chest. But you knew him well enough to know what was on his mind. “So… is that something that you regret? Would you rather be a professor instead of an art director, Fairytale?”

Hyunjin turned to you, his head tilted to the side, studying you not unlike if you were a painting. “But isn’t that fucked up? I could literally get a full-time art director job at a museum, which is something I’ve dreamed of most of my life, but now that I’ve tried something else, I just…” He sighed.

“How is that fucked up? Isn’t that the best of both worlds?” you offered in an attempt to soothe him. “You’re living your dream job right now, and then, if you want, you can maybe… keep it part-time? Give a class or two if you’d like? Or become a professor full-time if that’s what you want. Just follow what your heart wants, Hyunjin. It’s all that matters. If you don’t give it what it wants, it’ll make you miserable.”

There was a pause. Hyunjin hesitated before reaching for you. He took your hand in his. His skin was warm despite the cool air, and smooth, and sent a shock through your body. He pulled you toward him and you didn’t resist it—a moment later, you were nestled in the crook of his neck, his long arms wrapped around your body. “I missed you so fucking much, Tipsy.” He pulled you away just a few inches so that he could look into your eyes. “What about you? Do you know what your heart wants?”

It was almost as if your heart wanted to answer itself—it jumped in your chest as Hyunjin’s boozy breath caressed your face. He was close, so close. Close enough that you could see the light above you reflect in his eyes, and yourself too. Without hesitating, you said, “Yeah, I do know.”

Hyunjin put a hand in your hair, running his long fingers into it, sending shivers through your entire body. The shivers traveled beneath your skin, running marathons, to settle between your legs where they transformed into an acute—yet delightful—pressure. You pushed your thighs together, almost like a knee-jerk reaction, but managed to swallow the embarrassing gasp that almost escaped you.

“I tried to love Camille you know,” Hyunjin said, pulling you closer, so close that your body was flush with him. He was so warm, he was there, right there, his big eyes staring at you, his lips more inviting than ever. “I really did. But that’s not what love feels like. You’re not supposed to try. So tell me, Tipsy. Is there really nothing between you and Chan?”

You couldn’t look away from him, no matter how difficult this conversation was. “There was a one-night stand,” you finally revealed. “Last Christmas. It was bound to happen, but I—I don’t want anything with him.” You thought about it. “I think, if I dated him, I’d have to try to love him. Just like you said.” You may have been reluctant to admit it to yourself before, but Hyunjin was right—you had known love before and now you could recognize the absence of it.

Hyunjin nodded slowly, so slowly that he appeared to be moving in slow-motion. His gaze descended from your eyes to your lips, to his hand in your hair, back to your lips. “I know we need to catch up,” His voice was so low that you could barely hear him. “but I’ve been thinking about kissing you since the moment I saw you this afternoon. Can I?”

You had known love before, unexpectedly.

A lot of people talked about that—how some people felt like home. There were a lot of songs composed about it, poets loved to write about that, too. You had always found the metaphor to be moving but you had never understood it, not really, not until now. Not until your chosen home had left and returned. Not until you had experienced it Home wasn’t necessarily the place one had been raised in. Home wasn’t necessarily a house, or a town, or even a country.

No matter how long you left it, when you returned home it always felt the same, it never felt foreign, and you always belonged there.

Hyunjin could have been gone for fifty years and it wouldn’t have made a difference, not one bit.

You lay your wrists on his shoulders, tugging gently on his hair, his lips begging for yours and yours for his. Hyunjin took your face in his hands, as delicately as if he were holding a rare artifact. “Please kiss m—”

But you didn’t even have a chance to finish your sentence, Hyunjin kissed the missing syllable out of you and swallowed it. He pressed his lips against yours and they were warm, soft, cushiony. Home. Kissing Hyunjin felt exactly the same as it had the last time you had done it, the same warmth spread through your body like wildfire.

Hyunjin clung to you as if he were afraid of you slipping away from him, parting his lips open to take your mouth. It was a messy kiss, sloppy, wet. He groaned into your mouth and you moaned into his, his tongue grazing your lips, teasing yours incessantly. He cocked his head to the side, deepening the kiss, slowing it down, too—it becomes something less frantic, more sensual. Lewd, even.

His mouth tasted like port, like salt, his mouth tasted good. You pressed your hands behind his neck, pressing him closer as if he could be any closer than this. He was as hungry as you are, his fingers curled in your hair, his wet mouth devouring yours. When he paused the kiss so that you both could get some air, you noticed his cheeks—flushed dark, pretty. He looked more handsome than ever, his lips glistening with your spit. e

Did you look like that, too? Drunk on a kiss?

Hyunjin kissed you again, switching sides with you until your back was pressed against the iron bar. He let go of your face, his hands trailing down your body to settle on your waist. “I missed this so much,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours. “You. Your mouth.”

“I missed you too.” You let him kiss you again, but somewhere at the back of your head was a girl named Camille. You didn’t want to think of her. You only wanted to think about Hyunjin’s mouth and his warm body against yours, you only wanted to think about his strong scent, about the distracting warmth pooling between your legs.

“Do you… want to go back upstairs?” Hyunjin questioned, biting his lip, his fingers caressing your lower back through your clothes.

You giggled. You giggled like a virgin, burying your face into Hyunjin’s neck, blushing violently. “Yes,” you managed in your embarrassment. “Let’s go. We do have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Oh, we’ll be catching up alright, you’ll see.” Hyunjin took your hand in his and guided you back toward his building. Both of you were laughing like delinquent teenagers by now, unbothered, alone in the world. You didn’t want to think about anything else but this. You, and him, and how easy it was, how easy it had always been.

The second you reached his apartment and the door was closed behind you, Hyunjin gently pinned you against it to take your lips again. It was quieter indoors and you basked in the feeling of it, the sounds of it, too. The sound of your mouths colliding, fusing into one, the lewd noises of him swallowing you and you him.

“I have one more question about Chan.” Hyunjin had a strange smile on his face, almost daring. “How was it? Fucking him I mean. Was it everything you had dreamed of while in college? Did you fulfill your college girl’s absolute wet dream?”

“Oh my god!” You shoved Hyunjin away, howling with laughter. “What the fuck!”

Hyunjin put a hand over his mouth, laughing with you and retreating as if he were expecting yet another physical retaliation. “What? It’s a legitimate question!” You took a few instants to calm down and breathe normally while Hyunjin opened a small metal box on a table and produced an already rolled joint and a lighter from it. “I quit the cigarettes, but not that. Want some?”

“You quit smoking cigarettes in Paris? I feel like this should get you some sort of award.”

“I know right? I mean, I quit that but I drink a whole lot more wine than I used to… win some, lose some,” he retorted with a wink.

You followed him to the living room where he cracked open a window after lighting up the joint. You both sat on the floor, right below the window, and smoked for a few instants, in silence. You unzipped the hoodie—whatever fire Hyunjin started earlier, it was still burning within you.

“So are you gonna tell me or not?” Hyunjin said, blowing smoke to the side so as not to hit your face with it.

“Are you seriously interested in Bang Chan’s dick game?” The weed was helping you relax and you found the situation very funny, yet you couldn’t deny the pressure between your legs.

Hyunjin shrugged, his playful smile turning into a cocky grin. “Not really. Whatever happened, I’ll fuck you better than he ever did. I promise.”

Blood rushed to your face before the wildfire continued its course to your lower stomach. Hyunjin casually took the last drag from the joint before dropping it into an empty beer can that had stayed near the window. The light was dim, but you could see his face very well. Handsome. Enticing.

Hyunjin kissed you again, but this time it was different. He pushed his tongue past your lips but not to tease you with it—he fucked your mouth with his tongue, bobbing his head, keeping you close. Already, his hands were traveling all over you, your waist, your legs, your neck. You could feel your panties getting wet and sticky already, you could feel yourself oozing from this kiss and these touches alone.

His phone, discarded on the coffee table, rang a few times but neither of you paid it any mind.

You touched him too. For two years now all you had were the memories of him, and to feel him, the true him, under your fingertips was making you dizzy. You slid your hands under his t-shirt, feeling his toned abdomen, his smooth skin. He was still delightfully warm, reacting violently to every caress, flinching and biting your lip gently whenever you went places he was sensitive in. He moaned into your mouth when you pulled on the waistband of his pants.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his mouth still on yours, his hands now making their way up your thighs. You shivered, a rush of warmth spreading between your legs.

You smiled, taking a few seconds to recall the very first time you had sex with Hyunjin. And then the other time after that. You really hadn’t been allowed a lot of time with him, and yet he took up so much space within your heart. He haunted you. You tried to watch porn to distract you from him—you knew it was unhealthy to still think about him. To cum to him. But it was him who appeared in your mind when you were on the edge of your release, it was his cock that you remembered, the feeling of him on top of you.

“I’m sure, Fairytale. Are you?” You retreated, letting the breeze from the open window cool you down a little, but it was no match for Hyunjin’s fingers twirling on your inner thighs, dangerously close to your core.

While you had been still thinking about Hyunjin, he had been living his life in Paris. He had been with Camille, and his thoughts were as far away from you as they could be. And it hurt you. It hurt you and it humbled you even if you could still feel his scorching kisses on your lips, even if it was you on the floor of his living room tonight, your heart beating fast, panties soaked, covered in chills.

You didn’t resent him. You couldn’t possibly resent him for falling in love and for having a dating life. You looked into his big dark eyes just to get lost in them. On purpose. Because nothing else mattered, not tonight. They all wanted you to be careful—they all had hated to see you suffer after Hyunjin had left, they said.

But even if Hyunjin was to leave again tomorrow morning, you would still be with him tonight, on this floor, the taste of his weed lingering on your tongue. Because he was your fairy tale.

He slid his tongue across his bottom lip. “So fucking sure, Tipsy. I even had to ask Wooyoung for a condom because I haven’t bought any since I moved back here…” A pretty pink color spread on Hyunjin’s face as he used his free hand to produce a condom from the pocket of his jeans.

“Oh my god…” You giggled, burying your face into your hands, suddenly embarrassed, but not in a bad way.

Hyunjin let your laughter die off. Soon enough, you could only hear the city noises through the window and your own breathing—uneven, eager. “Look at me, Tipsy. Please.” You lifted your head up, finding Hyunjin leaning closer, his sinful lips parted open. “I wanna see your face when I feel your pussy just now.”

You couldn’t even process it—immediately, Hyunjin reached for you under your skirt, pressing his fingers flat on the fabric of your panties. You could feel your slick permeating the lace, coating his digits already. You gasped when he touched you, the contact of him with your intimacy sending a wave of pleasure through you.

“That’s it.” He pushed his fingers a little harder against you, moving them up and down. You opened your legs almost involuntarily, seeking friction. Hyunjin was looking at you like he was studying you. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.” He nudged your knee, gently, forcing your legs to open wide. “Let me feel you, will you? I promise I’ll fuck you so good after, I just miss your pussy.”

Hyunjin slid your soaked panties to the side, wasting no time caressing your folds. You heard it. You heard the wet noises, heard your wetness sticking to him, and it made it so much worse, and it made it so much better.

“Oh fuck…” He had three fingers teasing you, tracing your pussylips, ghosting your clit, tickling at your entrance. “So wet already… Is that really for me?”

You pressed your hand over his, urging him to touch you more, more, more. Your other hand made its way to his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. You kissed him hard, you kissed him for all the nights you had cum to the memory of him, whispering his name into your pillow, missing him as if you had been missing a part of your soul.

Hyunjin kissed you back with the same urgency, moving from his seating position to rest on his knees, one of your legs in between his, leaving as little space as possible between your two bodies. You couldn’t even feel the breeze anymore. You could only feel him.

“Touch me,” you begged into his mouth. But he was already touching you, caressing your pussy lovingly, his fingers dancing on you. “Hyunjin—I need you.”

“Not as much as I need you, Tipsy.” His thumb found its way to your clit, swirling around it in slow, lazy circles. “Just a warning: I don’t think I’ll have enough of fucking you just one time. I’ll fuck you all night if you let me.”

You kissed him, your hand in his long blond hair. It was silky soft, tickling your skin, and when you closed your hand in a fist to tug on it, it made Hyunjin moan.

“Then what are you waiting for?” You leaned against the wall, watching Hyunjin watching you, rolling your hips weakly to rub yourself onto his hand. His eyes were glazed over, his lips coated with your spit, his honey skin flushed pink. What a beautiful sight. What a beautiful fucking sight.

Nothing—absolutely nobody—could compare to him.

Hyunjin brought his fingers back down, teasing your hole. “Just so you know, the walls are soundproof,” he declared with a shrug.

“Oh?” you retorted with the same playful tone. “So that means I—” But you didn’t even finish your sentence—Hyunjin shoved not one but two of his fingers inside you, sliding them in easily from how fucking wet you were for him. You cried out, surprised, but the cry turned into a moan at the end when Hyunjin started moving inside you, twirling his fingers, rubbing them all over, working you open.

“Moan for me. Let me hear you. God, I’ve missed you so fucking much.” Hyunjin rotated his wrist, bending his fingers to reach your most sensitive spot already, probing and caressing and tickling you.

He had you under his spell. You were clenching already, squirming on the floor, fucking yourself onto his long fingers. And they were long. Hyunjin pushed the skirt of your dress all the way up, revealing you to him.

He hissed at the sight of your flushed cunt, fingering you harder. “Wish you could see what I see.” He pushed his fingers deeper into you in quick, relentless thrusts and the sound it produced was lewd. Wet. You were dripping on his hardwood floor. “God, you’re beautiful. Fuck yourself on me. Use me.”

Maybe he would leave tomorrow. Maybe he was thinking about Camille, even if he wasn’t sure of his feelings for her. But he was here. You were kissing him, his lips, and now his neck, sucking on his skin there to leave a mark. He was knuckles-deep into your throbbing pussy and you were staining his floor. He was there, he was real, and he was worth the pain it would cause you when he would leave again or fall in love in earnest some day.

You let your arms fall, caressing him all the way down, his upper back, his waist, the tattoos on his arms and all the stories they said. You looked at the blue hydrangeas on his skin as you felt him through his jeans, finding him hard already. You palmed his bulge, causing him to hiss.

“Fuck—” he managed, his voice strangled, halting his movements. You squeezed him harder, a blissful smile painting itself on your lips. You felt alive in this moment. “Let me take care of you first?”

You ignored him, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, pulling them down a bit. He was wearing dark gray boxer briefs and they hugged his pretty waist so well that it made you throb. They hugged his erection even better, though. You rubbed him over the fabric, feeling his cock for real. Long, hot, hard, just like you remembered. You hummed, closing your eyes, head falling back. Maybe it was the port, or the weed, or the way he was teasing your g-spot—you felt excessively relaxed now. You trusted the moment. You trusted him.

Hyunjin kissed you—a long, deep kiss. You moaned when he pulled his fingers out and squeezed his cock harder when he broke the kiss, too, but at least it was to lick your juices off his fingers. He throbbed under your palm when he tasted you, his eyelids fluttering as his tongue harvested your slick from his hand.

“Thought I’d forgotten how you tasted,” he whispered, his face so close to yours that you could smell yourself on his breath. “Thought there was no way my pretty Tipsy tasted as good as I remembered she did. But fuck—you do. Taste yourself, baby.” He kissed you again, your flavor invading your mouth with the spit he released, coating your lips and mouth with it. You tasted so much better like that than when you licked your cum off whatever vibrator you used on any given night. You tasted so much better when your essence came from his mouth.

“Hyunjin—” but you couldn’t even form a full sentence. Instead, you pulled his boxers down too, finally revealing his cock. That sight alone almost made you cum untouched.

His pretty cock, flushed dark pink, and the faint veins adorning it. So big, so hard. His balls were tight, tight enough that they looked sore. You wrapped your hand around him, squeezing gently. Hyunjin’s breath hitched and you watched with wonder as a few drops of precum appeared on his slit.

You leaned over, bringing your mouth to the tip of his cock, and pressed your tongue flat on the head of it to harvest every drop of him that you could. You moved your head to accentuate your motions, lifting your gaze until you made eye contact with him. Hyunjin looked like he was struggling. His silky hair was falling over his face, and he was biting his lip so hard that it might make a little cut.

You wanted more, so you released a liberal amount of spit on the head of his cock and used your hand to lube him up, stroking him gently. “So big,” you commented, leaving small kisses all over his cock. “So pretty.”

You felt Hyunjin’s hand in your hair, clinging to you as if he was holding on for dear life—but also pulling you closer to him. You opened wide and, never breaking eye contact, took him into your mouth. Inch by inch. There was no way you could ever fit all of him, but you wanted to take as much as you could. His cock tasted good. Salty, musky, even a little sweet. You locked your lips around his girth, squeezing him at the base, twirling your tongue over his tip.

His legs almost gave out—he had to use the windowsill as an anchor, holding that, too. “Ah, Tipsy—fuck—fuck—oh fuck—” He was excessively sensitive, reacting to every flick of the tongue, every stroke, every dip of your head. You felt him coming alive under your tongue, throbbing, somehow becoming harder every passing moment. “Ah, ah, just—”

He let out a grunt when you started sucking him in earnest, your spit and his precum leaking from the corners of your mouth, onto your chin, even lazily dripping onto your chest and staining your dress. Hyunjin couldn’t stop whimpering and it drove you crazy enough that you pressed your other hand between your legs, fingering yourself gently while you sucked him off.

And then he gave the gentlest of thrusts. Inadvertently. You moaned on his cock, surprised by it but loving the way it felt when he forced himself deeper into your mouth. When he did it again, he went a little too far—you gagged on his cock, your mouth quickly filling with saliva, and Hyunjin quickly retreated.

Your eyes were full of tears. You did not bother with wiping the spit from your face, you liked to feel it there. You liked the sting that lingered in your mouth from it having been too full for a few seconds.

You gave Hyunjin’s cock a few kitten licks, playing with his balls gently. “Do you want to fuck my throat?” you asked, and the act of asking that in itself made you blush—but it also made you clench around your own fingers.

Hyunjin lifted your face toward him, pushing your chin upward. “I will later,” he said, and you knew he meant to keep his promise. “I need your pussy first, baby.”

You made a point of spreading your legs even more so that he could see you touch yourself, fingers smearing your juices all over your sensitive cunt. “Should we go to your bed?” The floor wasn’t particularly comfortable after all, and you needed him as much as he needed you.

Hyunjin gulped, looking behind him at the door leading to the hallway. “We can’t. Mr. Pickles is in my room... he’s just a baby.”

You pulled away, bursting into laughter. “Right, right. I forgot that about you.” You remembered Chives fondly. You pulled Hyunjin into a kiss and felt him seek the taste of his precum in your mouth, so you let him revel in it the same way you had.

Instead, Hyunjin helped you up. He held you and you held him, both of you giggling when you noticed it wasn’t that easy to stand up in the state that you were. But you didn’t know if you were drunk on wine or on Hyunjin’s precum. You didn’t if you were high because of the weed or because Hyunjin was back in your life and it barely felt real.

Except it was real. Hyunjin kissed you as he pulled the hoodie off you, as he slid your panties down. They fell at your ankles and you stepped out of them while he was taking his jeans and briefs off. He was insanely beautiful like this. His strong thighs, his long legs, lust written all over his face. You found beauty in yourself in that moment too, in the two of you, reunited and basking in the dim amber light of the room, facing one another with flushed faces and smiles and hearts beating fast.

There were scary thoughts in your mind—thoughts like, you believed now that love was nothing like what they showed in the movies. Love didn’t have to be the same for everybody. Some people met a person at work, or at a bar, and they went on dates and fell in love. You had met someone and then he had left. You had met someone and he had changed you forever. But that was frightening. And exhilarating.

Hyunjin guided you to the couch, helping you sit down comfortably, sliding a small pillow under your lower back. Instead of sitting with you, he kneeled again on the floor, facing you, taking place where you wanted him most— between your legs.

He opened them again, baring you to him, but you didn’t even feel shy—especially not when you saw the expression on his face. He stared at your pussy with big, eyes, licking his lips in anticipation. He gave your knee a little peck, then moved up along your thigh, leaving wet, warm kisses on your skin.

You watched him disappear there as Hyunjin lowered himself to your pussy. His breath tickled you there. You felt the vibration of his voice go through you when he spoke. “Your pussy really is so beautiful, Tipsy.” He used his fingers to open you up, eyes burning with lust. His movements were slow, purposeful, elegant. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long…”

Immediately, without any warning, Hyunjin laid his tongue flat on your folds and gave you one big slurping lick, really sinking his face into your heat. You let out a moan, louder than you had expected, but that didn’t seem to bother Hyunjin at all. Hyunjin gave you more kisses—your pussylips, your hole, your mons, your clit. “So pretty,” he said, looking you in the eyes as he released spit onto your cunt and used his tongue to spread it. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

Hyunjin focused on making out with your cunt again, opening his mouth wide open to lick and lap at you relentlessly, devouring you, building your pleasure. He returned to your clit often, licking you harder there, but never for long.

“Please—” you cried out, rolling your hips to meet the movement of his tongue and head. When all you got as a response was a smirk and Hyunjin sliding his tongue into your tight cunt, you let out a cry, gasping in desperation.

He tilted his head to the side to fuck you harder with his tongue. You sank into the couch, losing control rapidly, ripples of pleasure going through you every few seconds. The squelching sounds coming from the way Hyunjin was eating you out would have been enough to make you cum on the spot, but you wanted more. You wanted him, all of him.

You got a hold of his hair and pulled him closer—Hyunjin moaned when he buried his face deeper into your cunt, his fingers dug into the soft skin of your thighs as you rubbed yourself on him. Could you be this touch-starved? Could you be so desperate that you needed to cum right now?

“More,” you managed in a sigh, in between moans. “Please. Please. Yes, yes!”

Hyunjin flicked his tongue on your clit once, then twice, again and again. You were oozing all over his face, you could see your juices coating his lips and his cheeks. The smell of your pussy was filling the room the same as your voice was. Your whole body was coming alive. Even the friction of your bra and dress on your sensitive nipples was driving you crazy.

You started letting go of him when he locked his plush lips around your clit, suckling onto it gently, suckling onto it and swallowing you as if you were his sustenance, stopping every few seconds to inhale your scent. The sight of it all was beyond erotic—this beautiful man and his inked arms and his messy hair and his pink lips, swollen and raw and wet, right there, between your legs.

The pressure in your core was rising dangerously—maybe Hyunjin felt it, because he pushed his fingers into your hole again. “Taste so good,” he breathed onto your cunt. “Watch me, baby. Watch me feast on you.” He pumped his fingers in and out of you, returning to your clit, licking and lapping and twirling his tongue all over it, all over you.

He was everywhere. You listened to him, to the sounds of him pleasuring you. You felt his warmth all over you as your pulse quickened. “I’m c—I’m cl—” But you couldn’t even talk. All that you could do was clench around Hyunjin’s fingers. All that you could do was cling to him, to the couch, as you were slowly ascending. Even the sound of your own moans turned you on. You hadn’t moaned like that in a long time, with your mouth wide open, not holding back.

You throbbed when Hyunjin sucked onto your clit again, harder this time. You waited for the moment he would slow down, or pause to catch his breath, but the moment never came. He sucked and sucked and teased you with the tip of his tongue as you rubbed yourself against him harder and harder. You were going to pass out, surely you were about to lose consciousness. You moaned, you cried out, the pressure becoming too much.

As you were just seconds away from your orgasm, Hyunjin pulled away, also removing his fingers from your throbbing hole. You gasped, out of breath, still seemingly on the brink of cumming. He lazily licked your cream off his pretty lips and reached for the condom, which had remained on the floor not too far.

“Sorry about that.” Hyunjin joined you on the couch, sitting right beside you, his cock flushed dark, leaking even more than earlier. “Need to feel you clench on my cock like that.” You watched him apply the condom carefully, hissing at how sensitive he was to that touch alone. “Don’t worry. I’ll want you to cum on my tongue later. Bet you'll taste even better after I fucked your tight cunt.”

You were barely able to hold a thought, still trembling from your almost orgasm. As soon as Hyunjin was done with the condom, you pushed yourself on your knees, moving on top of him to straddle him. He kissed you then, and you kissed him back, letting him pull the straps from your dress—and bra—down, ultimately freeing your tits.

He immediately cupped your breasts in his big hands. They were still wet from you, and you moaned when Hyunjin played with your sensitive nipples, rolling them between his fingers, even bending down to kiss and lick them.

You reached for his cock, aligning him with your entrance. “Need you,” you whined, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

“Use me, that’s it.” Hyunjin gave a few tentative thrusts, rubbing his cock against your hole. “Let me feel that cunt. Let me see your cream on it.”

You guided him inside you, gasping when you pushed his tip inside you, but immediately hungry for more. You laid your hands flat on his chest to keep your balance, and you sank on his cock, letting it stretch you.

Both you and Hyunjin cried out at that, your heat engulfing him, your walls clenching around him. He was big. His cock filled you so good. You kissed him. You kissed him hard, not wasting a second before rolling your hips to fuck yourself onto that pretty cock. When you know what love feels like, it means you also know when there’s an absence of it. And nothing was missing in this instant, no void left within you, your pussy stuffed with his cock and with the strong emotions taking up all the space in you, even the space between your atoms.

“Oh my fucking g—” Hyunjin dug his fingers into your waist in an attempt to control your desperate pace. “I’m gonna fucking blow if you keep this up. How’s your pussy so fucking tight—”

You slammed onto him again and again, chasing your high. It was messy, it was sloppy. You were soaking him, his cock, his thighs, his couch. You rode his cock to your heart’s content, feeling his straining length take up all the space inside you. Tits spilling out of your dress, bouncing with you as you bounced on him. It was lewd, it was beautiful.

“You take that cock like a perfect little slut,” Hyunjin uttered between grunts. His face was red, he was sweating. “So horny. Look at you, look at how swollen your pussy is.”

You tried to get a glimpse of it, of his cock disappearing between your legs, but the sight of it sent you over the edge. You cried out, Hyunjin now using his grip on you to slam you onto him harder and harder, also fucking you from below. He was just as horny as you were, as desperate, biting his lip hard. You were so full of him, your pussy stretching for him, his cock massaging your walls every time you rolled your hips to ride him.

The skin on your entire body pricked when you felt the first waves of your orgasm threaten to overcome you. “Hyun—Hyunj—I’m—” You tried to speak, but it was impossible.

Hyunjin, driven by lust, his cock throbbing into your tight pussy, brought his hand to the side of your neck to anchor himself better. “Cream on my cock, baby.” And then he squeezed your neck, just a little. It did not hurt, but it sparked something inside you.

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head and Hyunjin understood your silent agreement. Agreement, or plea, a little bit of both perhaps. He wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing you to the exact same rhythm your pussy was throbbing and clenching. You gasped for air, embracing the light sting of it, losing yourself in the moment, in the feeling of his strong hand choking you. “Now, baby. Cum, please.” Hyunjin spread his other hand, reaching for you, gently rubbing circles on your clit, and your reaction was immediate.

You arched onto him as you came, the tension between your legs coming undone with your orgasm. Hyunjin held you by your neck, fucking you deep from underneath. You would bruise there. You would bruise on your neck, too. You came hard, pulsing on his cock, convulsing on top of him as your orgasm took over your whole body. It was good, it was too good.

Hyunjin did not give you a break—you hadn’t come down from your high when he held you by the waist and pulled you off him, only to lay you on your back on his big couch and sink his big cock into your cunt again. You were still cumming, for fuck’s sake. You were still fucking cumming when Hyunjin slammed into you hard again.

He groaned, his fucking becoming erratic, frantic, merciless. He was beautiful. He held your legs wide open, thrusting and rutting onto you like a madman.

When Hyunjin came, he pushed himself deep into you, moaning so prettily it gave you an aftershock. He pulsed into you, filling the condom with shallow thrusts and desperate whimpers, kissing you, biting your neck, your collarbones, kissing your shoulders, holding your neck, still. There was mild pain there now, but your brain did not register it as pain. It felt good. It only felt good, like you were drowning in a pool of pure bliss.

Hyunjin collapsed onto you, his hair sticking to the sweat on his face, his shirt damp with it, too. You wrapped your arms around him, letting the feeling of his cock softening inside you become a source of comfort, same as the rest of his body was for you.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, his face buried in your neck. It felt a little sore there because of his firm grip on you earlier, but you found that you liked it.

“I missed you too, Hyunjin.” You kissed the top of his head, and he propped himself up on one elbow. He had a soft smile on his beautiful face. “Are you really staying?” You needed to know. You needed to know in case you ought to prepare your heart for it again.

He nodded, giving you a gentle kiss on your lips. His mouth tasted strongly of you and sex, and you liked it. “Yes.” Another kiss. Then, he added: “I do owe you a date. I have serious competition after all—Bang Chan himself is courting you!”

You clicked your tongue and playfully shoved Hyunjin, laughing heartily. He pretended you had pushed him hard and exaggerated a fall from the couch onto the floor, causing the both of you to laugh even more. Maybe it was the dopamine from the sex, or the weed, but you truly felt at peace. And happy.

“Can’t believe you throw me on the ground when I’m just trying to ask you out on a date…” Hyunjin jokingly reproached, shaking his head. He turned away while he was removing the condom and discarding it, but came back with a box of tissues to give you a quick but thorough clean up. “You’ve changed, Tipsy. You used to be so nice.”

“I did pepper spray two assholes to save your ass, Hwang,” you reminded him with a grin. “Don’t forget that.”

Hyunjin bit his lip, gathering your panties on the floor. He looked beautiful, his cock gently softening, his hair a complete mess. “Okay. I’ll give you that one. But to turn violent toward me? Your Disney prince?”

You stood too, taking your panties from him when he handed them to you. “So fucking dramatic.” But he laughed again, and he kissed you. The kiss deepened quickly, with Hyunjin’s hands traveling over your body and settling on your ass, pulling you close.

“I’ve made promises earlier and I intend on keeping them,” he said against your mouth. “I’ll make us a snack with juice and we can continue for another round. Or three, or ten.” Your heart swelled up at that promise, both from lust and something else, something frightening but exciting.

“Do you have more of those tasty crackers, with the cheese dip? It was so good.” You kissed Hyunjin’s cheek. “I think I’ll go hang out with Mr. Pickles a little.”

“Coming right up! Let me know if he needs something, too.” Hyunjin disappeared to the kitchen.

You made a quick stop to the bathroom before entering Hyunjin’s bedroom. Your pussy was sore and it felt good. You were tired too, but in an exciting way. In a way that was a reminder that you were alive.

Hyunjin’s bed was cozy—when you noticed that Mr. Pickles was deeply asleep on it, you didn’t bother closing the door behind you. The kitten was curled into a ball in the middle of all the toys Hyunjin had bought for him today, looking adorable. You snapped another picture for Minho and sent it to him immediately, in case he was still awake.

Not long after, you heard Hyunjin’s ringtone. Again. One glance at the fancy digital clock on his bedside table confirmed it was well past 1 AM. Whoever needed to talk to him at this time really needed to get a hold of him… or was in a whole different timezone.

You gave Mr. Pickles a little kiss on his head and left the bedroom, choosing the close the door behind you this time. After all, the kitten was so tiny that it would be easy to lose him in this large apartment.

“Hyunjin?” you called, making your way toward the living room. “Your phone’s ringing again.” It could be an emergency, in which case it was better to at least take the call before Hyunjin could make it to his phone. Noises were coming from the kitchen, but they stopped immediately.

The room was cool due to the window that had been left open. As you reached for the phone on the coffee table, Hyunjin was barging in, hurrying past you to make it to his device first. As you shot one glance at the screen, you understood why.

Incoming Call . . .

Camille

You froze in place, letting Hyunjin grab his phone. He turned away from you, walking out of the living room to take the call, but there was very little that you couldn’t hear.

Suddenly, it felt as if the room was filled with not just a breeze, but a cold gust of wind. You shivered, exhaling sharply, finding it harder and harder to inhale. You located the black hoodie that had been your comfort for two years, left on the floor exactly where it had been when Hyunjin took it off you. Part of you wanted to wrap yourself in it right now and see if it would soothe you.

The pleasant soreness in your cunt turned into an unrelenting ache. The slight pang on your neck went from the delightful ghost of Hyunjin’s hand to the feeling of a vine leaving its poisonous trace.

“Non, arrête—j’ai dit—écoute—will you please fucking listen to me? S’te plaît?” You heard Hyunjin clearly but you couldn’t understand every word he said. He spoke English, French and Korean, alternating from one language to the other. It was strange to hear this much French in his voice, and should the situation have been different, you surely would have found it very charming.

But it wasn’t just the French, or the English, or the mix of all these languages together—it was the tone of his voice as he spoke to her. It screamed of familiarity. Of course.

“Non, j’ai jamais… I didn’t say that and you know it. You fucking know that. I—quoi? T’es où? Here? What do you mean you’re here? Ici?”

You may not be a walking dictionary but you understood what you needed to understand. You walked to the window, glancing outside, down toward the sidewalk. There was someone, a woman, standing right in front of Hyunjin’s building and talking on the phone while looking upward as if she was looking for someone. The window was open and you could hear her voice. It was melodious and beautiful. She seemed tall and lean and well-dressed with long, wavy pale hair. Camille.

There was a long silence on both ends. The silence infiltrated your brain, too. There were very few thoughts that seemed to linger in your mind, and they all amounted to the same thing anyway.

You heard a sob coming from outside, and a sigh coming from Hyunjin, and footsteps. “I’ll be right back, okay, Tipsy?” Hyunjin told you, but he didn’t wait for a response and you didn’t even turn to him. “I’m coming down, stay there,” he said into the phone again. “T’es là? Mimi?” Hyunjin left the apartment.

It was quiet, but Camille was still sobbing outside. It was quiet, but you could swear you heard the pieces of your heart as they shattered in your chest, the shards firmly planting themselves in your flesh from the inside out. Mimi. Not Cam, not even Cami, not mademoiselle. Mimi.

You watched as Hyunjin joined Camille on the sidewalk, but you had seen and heard enough. There were tears in your eyes and cries in your throat, but a stranger wouldn’t have guessed the turmoil within you as you appeared calm on the outside. You gathered your things—your shoes, your bag, your phone—and made your way to the kitchen, where you left by the balcony. As you went down the narrow staircase there, you felt a tear roll down your cheek, quickly followed by another. And another.

It was cold. You only had your crumpled dress on. You were trembling, you were a mess.

You were a fool, and had been since the beginning.

You crossed the park, walking past the swing set where you and Hyunjin had sat just earlier. You were crying in earnest now, doing your best to swallow your sobs and shame alike. You remembered the code from the gate and managed to leave the park—when you made it to the sidewalk, you saw Hyunjin and Camille, still in front of the building entrance. You heard their voices and the languages and the intimacy in their voices.

She had been with him more than you had. She knew him better than you did, and Hyunjin knew her more than he knew you. This was an undeniable truth. You had no claim over him.

So you walked away. Whatever would happen next, you didn’t want to see it. You didn’t want to go through the painful process of Hyunjin returning to his apartment and making excuses and saying she was here because of this or that reason. You didn’t want to see Camille from up close, and how pretty she was. You had made a mistake tonight when you had allowed those frightening feelings to take control of your mind. Of your heart.

You knew one thing: you couldn’t go back home, not tonight. Chan would be there, and he would know immediately. Hadn’t he known from the start? You didn't want to face him. Not now. You could call Jisung and crash on his couch, but he lived in a whole other area of the city, and you needed to talk to someone right now.

You knew that Minho kept his texts on Silent at night, but he allowed calls from a few of his contacts to filter through, and you were one of those people.

He answered, but it took him a few seconds to actually speak. When he did, Minho sounded sleepy—you had woken him up. “Hello?” A yawn. “What’s going on, are you okay?”

It was your turn to speak. When you tried to talk, only cries came out, with tears rolling down your face. You walked in silence, finally taking a turn to a smaller street to make sure you wouldn’t be seen in this state. Someone might call the police on you.

“What’s going on?” Minho insisted. “Where are you?” There was a pause. When Minho spoke again, his voice was softer. “You’re with him? You were with him. Did he hurt you?”

“N—no,” you managed through your sobs. “I was with… he… I just…” You tried to breathe, but it really was hard. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“Where are you now? I’ll come pick you up.” There was no hesitation. You heard some background noises on the call, as well as a few protesting meows.

You could insist, you could call a cab, hell, you could even walk to Minho’s place from here, but you didn’t want to. You felt lonely. Abandoned. Alone. You were cold and sad and scared. So you shared your location with Minho, and he said he would be there in fifteen minutes.

He picked you up twelve minutes later with a warm jacket and a cup of herbal tea. He did not ask questions, did not make comments about your appearance. You probably smelled like weed, like booze, like sex. Neither of you spoke until you had made it back to Minho’s apartment. He gave you a clean towel and some toiletries and you showered while he was fixing you some food. Just some veggies with cheese, but it was good.

It was two in the morning when you sat on the couch. Minho had laid blankets and pillows for you there.

“Can you stay with me?” you asked. “Just a little.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone anyway,” Minho admitted. He was wearing comfortable sweat shorts and a t-shirt—almost the exact same clothes he had given you for your night. Your dress was already in the washing machine as he had insisted on washing it. When he went to sit to your left, a chubby orange cat swooped in to steal his spot at the last second. “Dammit, Soonie…”

You scratched the cat’s head while Minho went to sit on the other side of you. You had stopped crying, but you felt empty. “Thanks, Min.” For everything, you meant to add, but you were afraid that if you talked too much, you’d start crying again.

“No worries. I set your phone to charge in the kitchen.” Somewhere in the apartment, you heard another one of Minho’s cats munching on his kibble. “He texted you. A lot. He called, too, left a voicemail.”

That tickle in your eyes… You tried to control your breathing. You sat in the dark, in silence. Slowly, the cries came back. Just quiet sobs, painful. Minho sighed—he wasn’t annoyed, not with you. You knew that. But he sighed and he pulled you against him.

“I was stupid,” you said. “I didn’t think.”

“You’re not stupid.” As if he could sense your distress, Soonie leaned against you, resting his big head on your thigh while you cried in his dad’s arms. “Just cry if you need to cry, and then sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

Minho and others had asked you this before—if you were in love with Hyunjin. And you had never been sure how you should respond to this.

But now you knew. Tonight, if someone were to ask you, do you love him? you would not hesitate one second.

There was only one reason why you were hurting so much, and that reason was the love you had for Hyunjin.

... to be continued.

a/n: long time no see for our frog boi! I went through some stuff as I was writing this chapter, which explains why it feels a little different than other updates and why it took so long to come out. That being said, I hope there were things you guys enjoyed in it. Thank you guys for the support, and for your patience regarding my posting schedule. I genuinely am so grateful. Thank you for keeping frog boi in your hearts. Take care!

permanent taglist: @cb97percent @changbinluvr @neosracha @hwan-g @staytheword @j-0ne25 @leedunno @aimeexx @hyunskizz @lotus-dly @thestarseeker @suhomylife @abiaswreck @ven-fic-recs @binstitsweat @hyunjinswifeee @straydhampir @fwess @skizzel-reblogs @katsukis1wife @chans1aptop @sunlitwilderness @erispancakes @skzfelixlove @hyunsungbased @revehosh @casualtaelyn @yourhwngness @hynjnskz @hyuneyeon @yourmercibeaucoupsblog @moasworld @neosfw @jollchacho @dreamingsmile @changbinheart @dwaekkiracha * please note that I will soon be making a post regarding my taglist/s.

#stray kids #skz smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #straywrds

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euphroseia · 10 months

Text

thank you so much for sparing your time to read this and sending love for it~ 💗

Unrequited love, what about it?

Minho x gn!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Genre: non-idol!au, high school au, fluff, angst

Warnings: none that i can think of (please tell me if i missed one!)

a bit self-indulgent, a bit not. i listened to this song while i was writing this. if you want, you can listen to it too as you read ^^

Unrequited love, they say.

But for you, it was all just admiration from afar, making that person an inspiration for your poems, or maybe the muse to your art.

You first laid your eyes on him during your senior year at high school. The school’s dance team captain, who’s not just known for his exceptionally good performance with what he loves doing, but also the good-looking and caring senior everybody admires.

Running through the hallway with your friends for a class you’re all gonna be late to in five minutes, leads you to the direction where the practice room is located. You heard music playing and at first you thought no one was inside, then you took a peek at the small glass of the door; someone was there slow dancing, trying to figure out the rhythm of the music that was playing at a low volume. You can’t help but to watch more because of the way his body was just swaying around, like it was flowing with the sound of the music. Then he turned around and there you saw him—Lee Minho, what a sight for sore eyes, indeed.

That moment was cut short after your friend dragged you, reminding you that you’re almost late for your class.

From that moment, you noted to yourself to always take that route at the exact same time every day.

You thought you’d be fine with admiring him from afar. Watching the dance team on every competition they joined, peeking through the door of their practice room, and taking the long way to your classroom just so you could pass his classroom and see him—until it wasn’t enough.

You knew you had to do something to bring you two closer. Knowing he’s smart, you studied hard just so maybe you could be classmates for the next semester.

Unrequited love, they say.

But how can that be love when you only want to watch him at his element? Your friends beg to differ. They say all you talk about was him. “How come he still looks that good even when he’s sweating a lot?” that, “Have you guys seen the way he smiles and laughs?” this, and the list goes on.

You just can’t help it. How could you? He’s good, great even, with what he does. Always on the top of the class, respectful to everyone, and very patient with teaching the dance steps to his team members.

How can you not love a guy like him, right?

Did you just say love? You never even noticed it. People said at that rate of admiration you had for him, it’ll only be a matter of days that you’ll fall for him; and fall you did—hard, head first, no turning back.

Lucky you, in your last semester as a high school student, your school shuffles the class sections, and just like an answered prayer, you and Minho are in the same class. On top of it all, both of you were elected as the class officers; him as the president and you as the vice president.

Having to do a lot of tasks together as officers of the class brought you closer to each other. Meetings with the officers of other classes sometimes end up late at night. He’d walk you to your bus stop and wait until the bus arrives and leaves with you in it. He would sometimes ask you to watch the dance team practice a new choreography, or help him learn it alone. And at times like that, your brain short circuits and your heart beats faster with the thought of being alone with him.

These interactions made you fall for him even more. Seeing the guy for more than just his looks, and experiencing first hand how good of a person he actually is.

Unrequited love, they say.

For the way you look at Minho is totally different from how he does to you. They say you look at him as if he’s someone you’d willingly risk everything you have for him, and if you’re being honest, they might just be right. On the other hand, they said he looks at you as how a best friend would do—adoring you and being proud of the things you achieve. Platonically in love with you but never romantically.

Your feelings for him gets deeper as months go by. Today, it was one of those late nights after a meeting with the other officers. Everything’s getting busier as your graduation approaches. As usual, Minho walks you to the bus stop.

Your bus arrives and he pulls you into his arms and you gladly welcome the warmth of his hug. It has become a habit of the both of you to hug each other before you part ways. This time, he held you a little longer, and if you’d allow yourself to be a bit delusional, you swear you could feel his lips press a kiss on top of your head.

When you let go, you looked up at him and saw him smiling just as widely as you. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he said. “Of course,” you answered and waved him goodbye as you ran towards the bus.

Unrequited love, they say.

And for the first time, you agreed to them. For you watched it unveil before your eyes as he falls in love with the girl that’s part of his team. The way you see yourself in him as he looks at her with admiration and love. Like he’s willing to give everything to her—just as you would to him.

Your physics teacher is not coming today, he informed Minho through a message just a while ago. So, you have the whole period as free time to do anything. You were scrolling on your phone, watching different videos or reacting to funny memes shared on your newsfeed when you felt someone sit beside you. Not really in the right state of mind to talk to him after you heard the gossip about the “none-other-than Minho” dating his prettiest co-dancer, you decided to just continue scrolling through your phone.

“Hey, Y/N,” he called to which you just hummed in response.

“Can you tell me your opinion about this?” He asked and showed you a bouquet of flowers flashed on his phone screen from a popular shop on instagram.

“It’s pretty. The colors of the flowers compliment each other the same way the wrap does to them.” You said as you really liked the flowers he’s showing you right now. “Why? What’s with the sudden question about flowers?” You asked, knowing exactly you’ll only hurt yourself from the answer he would say.

“Oh, do you remember Reigne?” You would ignore it if given the chance, but you can’t. Not when you notice how lovingly he said her name. Not when he had to pause a little just to smile after her name fell from his lips. “I heard her and her friends talking about how beautiful these flowers are. I’ve thought of giving it to her after our performance this Saturday.” There it is, the sting of pain in your chest. Of course, it’s for her. What else did you expect?

“I bet she’ll love that and make her heart beat faster once you give that to her,” you said in all honesty, because it’s Minho. Who wouldn’t love to receive a bouquet of flowers from him? Who’s heart wouldn’t flutter when you realize the flowers he’s holding were especially for you?

His smile widens and you see the twinkle of his eyes—pure of love and excitement to the thought you had just given him. “You think so?” He asked, smiling giddily.

“I know so,” you respond and return his smile.

“Okay!” He exclaimed and hugged you “Thanks, Y/N, you’re the best,” he said as he went back to his proper seat.

Unrequited love, they say.

When you can watch him become happier each day even if you’re not the reason behind his smiles, then, what about it?

You were fine with watching him from afar just months ago, it wouldn’t hurt to be on the sidelines of his life for the rest of it.

But Saturday came, the day you dreaded the most as it reminded you of his plan. You wouldn’t miss a competition your best friend worked hard for just because of your silly, little, one-sided feelings for him. You hate to be that kind person, so you wouldn’t be that kind of person. You’d want to support him, even from afar, just like before.

They were great, you knew that, everybody knows about that already . After all the competing teams have performed, you had expected their win. So, you went outside to get some fresh air; it was hot inside after all, considering that many people came for this is the last competition for this season.

You heard the name of your school and their dance team gets proclaimed as the champions. You smiled to yourself from the thought that you saw that coming. It was his last competition with this dance team, of course, he would do his best for them to win this—and win, they did.

You stayed outside a little longer than you expected, you saw everyone leave the venue and go home. But for some reason, you stayed there and it was getting dark already. You heard little noises from afar, as if your feet had their own brain, they walked to the direction of the noise.

There you saw Minho, the one you’ve been admiring from afar, the man behind all your love poems, the one whose nose you try so hard to perfect when you sketch him as he sleeps, the person you tried so hard to deny that you love, yet fail miserably—your best friend.

You witness as he takes a deep breath and moves forward little by little to the person in front of him. It was Reign. In his hand, he holds the bouquet of flowers. Oh, so this was how he planned it. You thought to yourself as you watched Minho approach her carefully and give the flowers to her.

Everything unveiling before you wasn’t that surprising at all, after all, he told you about this plan already. It was you who said she’ll like the flowers and indirectly said, she’d love Minho as much as he does to her. Yet, what you didn’t expect was to see him kiss her. You had learned to accept that your feelings would never be reciprocated by him, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Because a few months ago, when you tried to dance with him in the practice room alone, when you looked at each other a little longer than necessary and faces were too close to each other, you thought that you could actually kiss him at that moment.

That night, you cried so much you actually thought your heart was breaking. You convinced yourself that time would pass and all of this was just part of your silly, little inevitable part of life as high school students.

Unrequited love, they say.

You don’t agree nor deny it anymore.

You just want it all to be over and move onto the next chapters of your life.

Your graduation passed just like the blink of an eye. You and your batch mates are all gathered at the school for the traditional final class picture before you all part ways and go to college or work. You honestly didn’t want to go. You almost didn’t go to your graduation because you didn’t want to see Minho anymore. Thinking about how effective it would be to forget your feelings for him if you avoid him. But, of course, you can’t do that. You have done so much to have come this far. Setting aside your feelings and goal of eliminating them, you attended the graduation.

Today, you really didn’t want to come. Not because you didn’t want to see Minho, but because of what will be the outcome of your plan. You bought the book he’s been talking about to you that he didn’t want to buy because “it’s a waste of money” he said. So you bought it, it’s your money you’re wasting and not his in the end. There, you inserted a poem you made for him. Thought that maybe through this, you’d be over him.

The picture taking was over and all that’s left to do was to give him your present.

“Hey, Min,” you called for him when you saw him standing in the middle of your classroom.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled as he turned around and opened his arms inviting you to hug him.

You approached him and hugged him tight. You wanted to savor this moment, scared that it might be the last. When you pulled away, you handed him the small paper bag.

“Got you a little something. A parting gift, you may say,” you said, looking down as you fiddle with your fingers.

“What’s this?” He opened the bag and saw the book. “I-thank you, Y/N!” He said and pulled you in another hug. “I didn’t get you something though, how about I treat you to eat?” He suggested and you’d love to say yea. But you can’t. It’s selfish, you know, but you think it’s for the best.

“I’d love to, Min, but I really have to go now.” Tone a bit down, expressing that you really regret not being able to accept his offer. “I hope you read that well,” you said and looked into his eyes.

Hugging him one last time, and then you waved him goodbye as you ran out the door trying not to spill the tears that’s been threatening to fall when you looked at him.

Still a bit shocked by how fast you ran outside, and he swore he saw your eyes watered. He was left there standing alone again in the classroom as he removed the book from the plastic it was wrapped with. He remembers talking about it to you but never expected that you would get it for him. He opened the book and noticed something was inserted between the center page of it.

It was a small card, he’s familiar with the handwriting in it; it was yours. He read what’s written on it and he didn’t even notice he was crying until he saw the tear fall on the card.

If they ask me to talk about love,

I’d talk about us.

Or more lovingly, from my perspective, I'd talk about you.

I’d tell them how I see stars in your eyes when you talk about the new dance step you learned.

The way you’d smile so brightly, I almost thought I was facing the sun.

The way you passionately do something you love, and show everyone you’re great at it.

The way you excel at everything, but will never forget to still be kind and humble.

If they ask me to talk about love,

I’d say your name in the blink of an eye.

Minho, how lovely your name is.

Even if that’s just how I’ll always be,

I’d tell everyone how amazing being your friend is.

Unrequited love, they say. In an unrequited love, I would choose to stay.

#about: unrequited love #lee know x reader #euphroseia

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euphroseia · 10 months

Text

this was a roller coaster ride of emotions!! i love how we always see the point of view of both mc and how they pine for each other 😫 it was all worth the wait because again as expected i love it with all my heart.

thank you for this, mari! you are such a wonderful person 💗

if honey is pure, it will burn (chapter 2 pt. 2) | the taste of honey series (18 + only)

pairing: young aristocrat!hyunjin x afab reader | wc: 28.5k | genre: 19th century au, arranged marriage, romance, smut | general warnings: period-appropriate themes, mutual pining, mentions of emotional distress, mentions of period-relevant toxic parenting, heavy fantasizing, voyeurism (accidental), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. reader is a virgin and it's a big deal. explicit sexual content. MINORS DNI. this work portrays elements/themes that may be triggering, reader discretion advised. explicit warnings under the cut | masterlist. (not written with the intention of being historically accurate)

Some people, you figured, had holes in them, and Hyunjin was like that. It wasn’t even his fault. His light leaked from him, and you were no better than a moth.

explicit warnings (read at your own risk, contains spoilers) : suggestive themes, mentions of sex, heavy and graphic fantasizing. voyeurism (hyunjin @ mc), mc being a virgin is a big deal & turns hyunjin on. masturbation (m, f), pillow humping (f), cum eating, mentions of period-accurate birth control. bloodplay if you squint but in a non-sexual situation (hyunjin gets a small injury), sexual tension.

Every morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang.

And every day, you were becoming a little better at it—at being the Lady of Hwang Estate.

“The blue or the green, my lady?”

You turned to Anhjong, who was showing you the options for your wardrobe of the day. The blue dress was pretty, but the green one had beautiful lace on it, as well as silky green ribbons around the waist.

“Green, Anhjong. With the cream-colored shoes, too.” You took the last sip of your strong tea and put the empty cup back on your table where Cloud, as adorable as ever, was busy eating her breakfast.

“Good choice, my lady.” The maid put the blue dress back where she took it and began preparing it while you were getting rid of your night clothes. “Are you excited to meet the new Head Steward?”

“To be honest, I am mostly excited about having a Head Steward again at all,” you replied, scratching Cloud’s little fluffy head in passing. You carefully folded your nightgown and accepted a white chemise from Anhjong, which you put on followed by your undergarments.

Hyunjin had left with Changbin on their business trip—right before he left, he had finally announced to Changbin that he would no longer be his steward but become his first counselor instead. Naturally, Changbin had tried to refuse him, but Hyunjin was stubborn, and Ha-ri had made her husband take the job, which also came with a beautiful cottage house on the estate.

You were happy for them—you liked the Seo family, all of them. Ha-ri was a friend, and you liked to believe that Changbin was, too. Their children were sweet and kind, just like their parents. You were delighted for them even, but you really needed someone to help you run this manor. It was your first week as Lady Hwang and you were here, by yourself, and had to make all the decisions by yourself, too.

It was a lot. But at least you had Ha-ri.

“Mr. Park has a good reputation,” Anhjong said as she was lacing your corset. “He worked under Lord Christopher for many years.”

“I trust the Bangs to only send us their very best, Anhjong.” And you meant it—Hyunjin himself had asked Lord Christopher for this Mr. Park, who he liked a lot apparently, and his friend had granted him that favor. “He should be here already. Let’s hurry!”

You put on the rest of your gown while your maid was lacing your hair. She was great at it, and knew intricate types of braids. She had promised she would teach you so that you can braid your daughters’ hair someday, my lady.

The mirror in front of you showed an elegant young woman in a beautiful green dress, made especially for her by her friend. You weren’t sure you recognized that woman. The girl you used to be had died somewhere between her wedding night and this morning. The girl you used to believe in many things—in her future, in the beauty of simple things, in the taste of honey. She used to believe in love.

She had been a fool, and the woman you were today had perhaps killed her in her sleep when she was least expecting it. You tried to remember what it had been like to be that girl. Waiting, expecting. Thinking all year long of the letter you would compose for your future husband, but even more busy imagining the things he would say in his letter to you. All this time spent in your bed, clutching those sheets of paper, inhaling them to see if some of his scent lingered on them. You pitied her. That poor girl.

“There you go, my lady.” Anhjong, as usual, placed your pretty braid on your shoulder. She had decorated it with a green ribbon. “Would you like a scarf? It seems a little windy today.”

“The cream one, yes.” Cloud meowed behind you—you usually took her with you on your first walk around the estate, but this morning she would have to stay in your bedroom since you were meeting Mr. Park for the first time.

You went to the small kitten and picked her up to give her kisses and pets. “Ha-ri promised she would send Haerin to come to see you, Cloud. Be a good girl.” Haerin was Ha-ri’s eldest daughter, and she was completely enamored with Cloud. You often spent afternoons with Ha-ri, Haerin and Cloud, sitting in the shade, Cloud in her little basket. The little girl liked to pet the kitten and she would even make sure she had her own cup of milk while the adults were having their tea.

Anhjong had been requested to help another maid with unpacking Mr. Park’s trunks and bags so you let her go. He would occupy a nice, spacious room in the other wing of the manor and you wanted him to feel at home here.

You adjusted your hair, the ribbon in it, too, and your smile. The smile that had been taught to you and that you had learned to wear even when you didn’t mean it. There wasn’t much to do about that. The smile was what you wore on the outside—your insides were adorned with longing and melancholy.

The manor was as busy as always—the hallway was empty, but you heard lively conversations from the floor below. You smelled breakfast, too. Something savory but something sweet as well. You walked slowly, working on taking deep, steady breaths to calm whatever storm was brewing inside of you, the one that filled your nights with nightmares and lustful dreams alike. The very same storm that made you stop in front of Hyunjin’s bedroom and push its heavy door open.

You let yourself into the empty room, breathing in, letting your husband’s scent fill your lungs. It smelled just like him here—like paper, like his cologne, like whiskey. You walked around in circles, feeling the curtains, the books on the shelves, the fabric of a jacket he had left behind. You took the jacket off the back of the chair where it was to smell that, too. Hyunjin’s scent was stronger on it, as if he had worn it on a warm day. You closed your eyes to lose yourself in it, that smell, that memory.

Every morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang, in an empty bed, with an even emptier heart. You woke up tired from your restless dreams. Dreams in which Hyunjin fucked you so hard that you often stirred yourself up in the middle of the night at the sound of your own moans, wet and throbbing between your legs. Some other nights, you dreamt that you waited and waited for him and that he never returned. But the worst were the nightmares—when all you’d dream about was him locking you in a dark room while he fucked Anhjong, or Ha-ri, or your mother.

One time, you woke up and he was in your bed, on top of you, but his body was cold and stiff. Somewhere in the distance, a baby was crying relentlessly. Hyunjin’s eyes were frozen in place, his plush mouth pale and parted open, his body motionless and heavy. Dead. No matter how hard you tried to wake him up, he never moved. You couldn’t move either, he was too heavy. Somewhere, in the manor, a baby would not stop crying, and you knew that you had to go check on it but you couldn’t move.

When you woke up again, for real this time, your cries were so loud that they alerted Anhjong. You were so deeply inconsolable that she had gone outside and made her way to Ha-ri’s house, just by the pine forest, to ask for help.

Ha-ri had given you wine, then whiskey, and a shoulder to cry on.

Since that night, you made sure to drink a little wine or whiskey or cognac before going to bed. It seemed to stop the really bad dreams from happening. Or maybe you forgot them as you woke up—didn’t matter, as long as you stopped screaming yourself awake every night.

You put the jacket back, noticing it had lost some of Hyunjin’s scent already. How long had he been gone?

How much longer would he be gone?

You took one last look at the room before leaving it. You had instructed that nobody but you should enter this room during your husband’s absence—no maid, no maintenance, nothing. Truth be told, you just wanted the room to retain some of his scent for as long as possible. You made your way downstairs, trying not to think about how it had felt when Hyunjin’s pretty cock was throbbing in your hand. Trying to forget the taste of his whiskey mouth.

Chef Sungjae was just outside the kitchen, deep in conversation with a man you didn’t know. You made sure the smile was still on your lips when you approached them—Sungjae dipped his head but the other man bowed courteously. He was tall, with dark hair and soft traits. His clothes were crisp and nice.

“Lady Hwang,” the man said. “What an honor to meet you finally.”

“Please stand. You must be Mr. Park. Welcome to Hwang Estate—and thank you for accepting my husband’s offer. He’ll be glad to find you here when he returns.”

“I simply couldn’t pass that opportunity, my lady.” The new Head Steward flashed a bright smile at you, just as bright as his eyes. His gaze was intelligent but kind. “Even Lord Bang said I would be a fool not to come here.”

Sungjae laughed, so you laughed too. You couldn’t let anyone know the true thoughts underneath your forced joy. Mr. Park smiled shyly. “Breakfast will be served soon, my lady,” the chef announced. “Would you like to have tea, coffee, something with your meal?”

“I’ll have coffee, the usual.” You liked coffee with a pinch of cinnamon in it, and milk. “What about you, Mr. Park?”

“Please, my lady, do call me Seonghwa.” His smile warmed up a little, putting you at ease. “I’ve heard plenty about you and your extensive kindness through Lord Christopher and his lady wife. I would like it if you felt comfortable with me.” He then turned to Sungjae. “I’ll have tea with milk, thank you, sir.”

“Well then, shall we have breakfast outside, Mr. Seonghwa?” You gave a nod towards Sungjae, indicating to him that the maids should prepare the table that was under the large elm tree. “Seems like today is lovely.”

“It is indeed, my lady.” The young man dipped his head and followed you outside, complimenting the estate at length.

“I only just got here, Mr. Seonghwa,” you reminded him. “While I appreciate your kindness towards my husband’s home and land, I have absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“Of course.” A slight flush appeared on the man’s cheeks but he kept his smile and pulled a chair for you when you reached the table under the elm. “Forgive me. I haven’t congratulated you on your marriage, my lady. Please accept my most sincere wishes for this union.”

You motioned towards the chair closest to you and Seonghwa sat down while maids were setting up the table with a linen tablecloth and some cutlery. You made conversation with them, commenting on their wise choice on the tablecloth—it was a beautiful piece with elegant embroidery on it and lace at every corner.

You wondered if you truly meant it, this compliment, or if this was simply the ghost of your mother’s teaching that still haunted you. She had always said that you should make sure the staff respected you and liked you, but that they should also fear you. You weren’t sure how to do that, though.

Breakfast was ham with eggs, roasted carrots and potatoes. You also discovered what the sweet-scenting item that you had smelled earlier was—Sungjae had also added a small raspberry tart with some Chantilly cream. You had picked the raspberries yourself yesterday, spending all afternoon foraging for the wild fruits. They were perfectly ripe and you did not want to waste any—your forearms still showed the cuts from it, and your knees were bruised. But at least it kept you busy.

“This is delicious,” Seonghwa commented after a while. “And it is quite nice to eat outdoors like this. Thank you, my lady.”

“Our Sungjae truly makes some of the best food I have ever eaten.” You knew for sure that you were completely honest about this. “Did you not like the food at the Bangs’?”

“Oh no, I loved it.” Seonghwa ate the last bite of his raspberry tart with a delighted expression on his face. “But this is better.”

You gave him a laugh and a nod. After all, he was right—Sungjae truly made delicious food. Even if you hadn’t been here for very long, you understood that Hyunjin had given him free rein to manage the kitchen any way he saw fit and a near-unlimited budget to buy ingredients and food. And, well, it showed.

“Since it is your first day here,” you told Seonghwa, “Sungjae will come to you soon and ask you what you’d like to have on your first dinner at the Hwang Estate. It is a tradition of the place, I heard.”

“Oh!” Seonghwa’s face lit up and he fidgeted excitedly in his seat. “I should start thinking about it right away then!” He sighed pensively, staring at the gorgeous scenery right in front of you. “What did you have on your first night here, my lady?”

You didn’t let the question melt your smile away. “Oh, my first night here was… unusual, Mr. Seonghwa. It was the very first night I met Lord Hwang.” You decided to make eye contact with the steward, but you couldn't quite read his expression. “I had no say in the menu that night. You could say that I am an exception—besides, nobody would be interested in my ideal meal.”

“Well, I’d like to know!” Seonghwa had a playful smile now, and it was contagious. For the first time today, you smiled and you meant it. You could only indulge him.

“A chef from France visited our city one time, when I was still a child,” you recalled. “My father contracted him for one meal—he made us crepes, with roasted asparagus, melted cheese and hollandaise sauce… I ate so much I thought I would be sick!”

Seonghwa let out an appreciative gasp. “You have refined tastes, my lady. And here I was, thinking of asking for mutton…”

You gave his forearm a few gentle pats. “Go ahead, ask for whatever you’d like. Sungjae’s mutton is exceptionally good, I’m sure you’ll love it. Make sure to give him exact instructions on how you want it prepared and seasoned, Mr. Seonghwa. Our chef likes a challenge.”

Seonghwa nodded and leaned comfortably into his chair, looking around, his gaze lingering on the garden down the hill. “Thank you, my lady. Your reputation precedes you but there were no lies in it—you truly are a kind, generous woman.”

You stared at the garden too, at the magnolia tree. Its flowers would bloom any day now, and you knew that the flowers would be short-lived—you simply hoped that Hyunjin would be back in time to see them.

“Mr. Seonghwa,” you started, your voice suddenly lower, quieter. “What sort of reputation precedes my husband, then?”

The Head Steward turned to you—you caught sight of him at the corner of your eyes, but you kept watching the magnolia branches sway in the breeze. “My lady, I—”

“People seem to judge him harshly,” you went on. “People seem to say he is cold.”

Seonghwa smoothed the fabric of his vest, then his pants, visibly uncomfortable. You gave him time—you were in no hurry. You watched the trees and the flowers in the garden, you listened to all the bird songs around you, always drawn to that one song you simply did not recognize. Was Hyunjin like that, too? Like a foreign bird, one that simply could not be understood?

“I heard no such thing under Lord Christopher’s roof, my lady.” Seonghwa pushed his empty plate just to keep his hands busy. “He has a lot of respect for him. He is quite fond of Lord Hwang, too. So is Lady Bang.”

You nodded slowly. “Yes, indeed.”

“Naturally, I heard the… stories. The tales. Of his old doctor, and—and—and you, my lady. That Lord Hwang had dismissed this doctor from his service.”

“He did, and—”

“But I heard it was because of the doctor’s inappropriate behavior,” Seonghwa said hurriedly, cutting you off. You took no offense, but this time, you did stare at him. He was handsome, but you were making him uncomfortable with this conversation. “Lord Hwang would never let anybody harm you, my lady. I respect that.”

“Thank you, Mr. Seonghwa.” You made yourself smile again, hoping it was at least a little convincing. “I hear our new doctor will be here soon, actually.”

“I’ll make sure everything is in order—”

This time, you cut him off. “No. You only just got here, and I want you to feel at home. I’ll take care of the doctor’s quarters. You meet everyone you haven’t met before, you make yourself familiar with everything. Alright?”

Seonghwa dipped his head low, pressing a hand on his chest. “My lady, thank you.” He was still smiling when he looked up again. “I am available should you need my help with anything.”

The maids were coming back with trays to gather the empty plates and used cutlery. You got up, followed by Seonghwa, and dismissed him politely. “Thank you, Mr. Seonghwa. It was lovely sharing breakfast with you—I’m looking forward to working with you. Don’t hesitate if you have questions or if you just need to chat with someone. When Mr. Seo will return, he surely will have a lot to say to you, but in the meantime… you know.”

“Absolutely. I appreciate it, my lady.” Seonghwa proceeded to help you put together all the plates and put them on the tray for the maids while they folded the tablecloth.

You heard a voice behind you and looked around until you noticed a farmhand waving his arms wide at you, gesturing vaguely in your direction. When he noticed you had seen him, he stopped, and called for you. ‘LADY HWANG! SOMEONE IS HERE FOR YOU!’, and he kept on going but you weren’t sure you could hear everything as he was on the opposite side of the estate. Something about being unsure if he should let them in or not.

“Better if I investigate this, my lady,” Seonghwa pointed out. “I know you told me to see to my room inside, but I will be disregarding that. Forgive me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh—Seonghwa smiled shyly at you and immediately started towards the farm hand. You liked him. He was soft-spoken and sweet and seemed like a good fit for the estate. You only hoped that he could be trusted in the long run… That he would be able to be there for Hyunjin, maybe not in the same way Changbin had been, but something like that.

You followed him, eager to see what the commotion was about. Seonghwa had long legs and walked faster than you, so a conversation was already happening when you made it to him and the farm hand, a boy you had seen around the estate a few times. Ha-ri had told you that Hyunjin had found him at an orphanage years ago and offered him a job on the estate’s small farm. His lordship can’t stand the sight of a child being alone, hungry or cold, Ha-ri had said.

You noticed a carriage down the hill, stopped at the gate. Two horses, two men, carrying one large crate with slits on each side. You frowned, finally turning to the farm boy.

“They say they are farmers, from a few towns over,” he said. “They have a delivery for you, my lady.”

“Well I certainly did not order anything myself,” you pointed out. “I have yet to leave this estate to visit the town.”

“He said that Lord Hwang was sending them,” Seonghwa clarified.

You nodded, feeling a little tense as you wondered what was in that crate. In the end, you told the boy to let the carriage and the men past the gate, watching from your spot near the kitchen. You could smell the roses behind you, their scent carried from the garden by the soft morning breeze. At this moment, you felt your happiness, but you realized it was an elusive thing—it would always evade you, tease you, but it might never make a home out of your heart. So you breathed deeply, letting the floral scent remind you of Hyunjin and his whiskey kisses.

“Should I get someone else?” Seonghwa asked when the carriage had almost reached the end of the path.

You let out a disgruntled sigh. “Feels weird that you and I are in charge of this place and we have no fucking clue what to do, does it?”

Seonghwa was left speechless by your sudden candor but you heard his smile through his voice when he spoke again. “A little, my lady.” There was a pause, and then he added, “Oh, here comes Mrs. Seo, perhaps she heard the horses…”

Ha-ri was indeed coming out from the kitchen door, taking a second to look at the two men who were climbing down the carriage while the farm boy bowed low and said he was going to get Mingi for the horses. Seonghwa went to meet the two men while you stayed behind with Ha-ri.

“Are we expecting some sort of delivery, Ha-ri?” you questioned while the seamstress decided that now was the absolute best time to adjust the green ribbons around your waist.

“Not that I know of, my lady.” She finished redoing the bow and looked over at the carriage. “That’s one large crate, isn’t it? I heard the carriage from upstairs.”

“Hyunjin sends them, apparently.” You couldn’t hear the conversation between Seonghwa and the two men—they were from the working class, as indicated by their clothes and posture. You held no judgment. “Maybe he purchased something while he’s away in the big city.”

“Possible. Lord Hwang does like spending his money.”

Seonghwa had finally turned to you again and was inviting you to join them near the carriage. You lifted your skirt so as not to ruin the fabric at the hem—a habit you did not always keep when Ha-ri wasn’t around—and made your way to the men. They bowed very low while Seonghwa introduced them to you by last and first names. Commoners, but with kindness in their tired eyes.

“These gentlemen come from the town past the river, you must have passed it on your way here, my lady,” Seonghwa explained. “They said they met your husband a few days ago.”

You made them stand up. “Did you, sirs?” you asked, offering them a smile. You meant it this time, for some reason. “I hope Lord Hwang was healthy and well.”

“He was, milady,” the older of the two men told you. “His carriage was damaged right in front of our farm. He needed our help.”

You put a hand over your mouth, suddenly worried, glancing at the large crate behind them. “Oh! Was he, or Mr. Seo, injured?”

“No, no, milady, forgive my father for not making this clear right away,” the other one replied. “They stayed with us overnight and paid us generously. We gave them a tour of our farm, but Lord Hwang was not at all interested in our cows, or our chickens. He sent us here after buying it from us.”

You stared at them, intrigued. The father reached for a bag left on the carriage and pulled out an envelope on which you recognized Hyunjin’s handwriting.

“Buying what from you?” You scoffed, a little nervous, as Seonghwa took the envelope from the man.

“Can’t you hear them, milady?” the son asked you, a smile appearing on his face. “We made sure to take our time on our way so they would be fully healthy and well when they made it to you.”

Hear them? Hear what? You closed the distance between you and the carriage, listening closely. You heard the breathing of the horses, the distant noises of the manor, the bird songs, the breeze… and a low, steady buzzing.

Your mind came to a complete stop and you froze, too shocked to fully process what you were hearing. It took a few seconds before you made eye contact with the farmers again.

“Are those…” you whispered, your voice quivering, “bees?” Behind you, Ha-ri gasped loudly.

“Honey bees, milady, yes,” the father responded with a proud smile on his face. “We had two apiaries and your lord husband showed great interest in them. He made an offer we couldn’t refuse and asked us to deliver one of them to you personally. He said you’re a beekeeper, milady, that you’d take good care of them, that you make the best honey he ever tasted.”

Absolutely nothing could have prepared you for this—you looked around, searching for somewhere to sit as you suddenly felt dizzy, as if you hadn’t had breakfast. You took deep breaths, accepting the envelope from Seonghwa and wasting no time opening it. There was just a short note inside, written on low quality paper with cheap ink, but you would recognize Hyunjin’s handwriting and words anywhere.

Darling,

these two kind men agreed to sell one apiary to me. I may not know much about beekeeping, but their setup seemed proper and the bees were as healthy as they could be, feeding on clover and lavender pollen. I’ve paid them enough to cover them helping you set everything up at the estate, and also covered the fees for them to stay overnight at the town’s inn. May this small gift make your life a little sweeter, less harsh. Much like your presence does with mine.

I hope you are healthy, that things are going smoothly at home, and that I will be seeing you soon.

Sending you my warmest regards, Hyunjin

It took you a long while to get through the letter—so long that the others must have believed you were illiterate. But you read the letter once, and then returned to the very beginning.

Darling. Darling. Darling.

“Gentlemen, may I ask at what time of the day my husband wrote this letter?” you asked, carefully placing it back in its envelope. It was an unusual question, but you needed to know. Darling. Darling. Darling. “After dinner?”

Few things could bother you right now and the puzzled faces of these two farmers was certainly not one of those. “Uh… no, milady—I—”

“It was just before he left, in the morning, milady,” the father replied with a nod. “He asked for paper and ink while Mr. Seo was gathering their things.”

Darling. Darling. Darling. Maybe Hyunjin had still been drunk from the night before when he wrote the note.

You felt Ha-ri’s hand on your shoulder. She squeezed it gently. “My lady,” she whispered. “Are you alright?”

You couldn’t cry. Not now. Not in front of these two farmers, not in front of Seonghwa and not in front of Mingi who was coming to check on the horses. You swallowed your tears but swallowing the thorns of a rose might have been easier.

“Yes, Ha-ri. This is a big gift.” You would cry later, in your bed. You would cry yourself to sleep just like you did every night. Big, yes, but significant was the word you ought to use.

Only Hyunjin knew how you missed it and what it had meant for you to have your apiary at home. Only he could know what this meant for you, the void it had created in your heart when you had to part ways with your passion. With the one thing that had kept you going all these years.

“Where shall we install the apiary, my lady?” Seonghwa asked you, obviously overwhelmed. It was his first day after all, and he certainly didn’t expect he’d have to deal with beehives today.

You took a deep breath, glancing some more at the letter Hyunjin had written and at the hand that was holding it. The same hand that had squeezed his warm cock until he had spilled his seed all over it. The same hand he had held on your wedding day, taking you for your first dance. You had written him many letters with that hand. One for each birthday.

You had hoped for so much. You had hoped that your marriage to Hyunjin would be one of love—but really, did you know what love was at all? If you had never known love, would you know to recognize it?

“Over there, just past these shrubs,” you instructed, motioning at the exact area you had in mind. It would be perfect—there was shade for the beehive itself but plenty of plants and flowers for them to feed on. The view would be nice too, as the lake would be in your vision range as you worked.

The men got to work—carefully, they unloaded the crate onto a wheeled platform brought by a couple of the workers from the estate. Neither of them seemed very comfortable around the bees so you made a mental note—you’d offer them jars of honey as soon as you could. It was still relatively early in the summer so you trusted you’d be able to harvest at least a little of it, if not as much as what you were used to.

You followed them, guided by this brightness within you that the buzzing of the bees seemed to create.

“My lady,” Ha-ri said tentatively. “Would you mind if I went to fetch Hanni? She loves watching the bees gather pollen from flowers in the garden…”

You couldn’t stop a smile from painting itself on your lips. Many years ago, you had been that little girl. Fascinated by the bumblebees on a painted portrait in your house, much more than you had been interested in the main focus of the painting—your future husband.

“By all means, please do. Who knows—in a few years, perhaps she’ll want to learn the secrets of beekeeping.” You liked Hanni a lot. The little girl always had a smile on her face.

You watched Ha-ri walk away but soon reported your attention on the workers and beekeepers when they began opening the crate. While the three of them remained with the hive, the father approached you after taking off his gloves. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small wooden box that you recognized instantly. It was a tiny cage.

The farmer handed it to you. “Your queen, milady.”

You took the box in your hand, inspecting it carefully. The bee looked healthy. Her buzzing was steady and strong—she paced the small cage, eager to be reunited with her hive.

“Thank you, good sir. Thank you for everything.” You turned to the now exposed apiary—it was more modest than the one you had known back home but no less practical. It seemed sturdy, too. Already bees were flying in and out of the cracks disposed all around it. Drones, most likely, searching for their queen, which was still buzzing in your hand. The same hand with which you had touched Hyunjin’s lips, feeling their silky texture, their warmth. The hand that you slid between your legs at night when you were hungry for him.

You wanted to be alone with your bees, even for a minute. Still, you took the time to give warm thanks to the farmers who had sold their apiary to your husband—you asked Seonghwa to please escort them back to their carriage and to make sure they would have snacks and something to drink for their trip to the town, where they would spend the night.

The workers carefully picked up the remnants of the crate and gladly walked away—the more distance they put in between them and the hive, the happier they would be, it seemed. You smiled softly. You had never had it in you to be afraid of bees, and it wasn’t for a lack of stings. Naturally, you had known the pain of stings more than once as you did not like to work with gloves. But you got used to it. At the end of the day, this was better than the pain that you got when your mother made you dance for hours on end to ensure that you knew all the steps and could execute them elegantly. Your socks would be glued to your feet after those days, covered in caked blood and shame.

Bees stung and it hurt, but at least you had control over that. At least, you had chosen that pain over all the other achings inflicted upon you.

Feeling the wood and the slight vibration underneath it felt like coming back to life, or something close to it. The bees were flying around you, impatient to find their queen. You weren’t afraid.

Hyunjin had sent you many gifts over the years. Books, expensive silk and perfumes, fancy ink. Some years, he would send bulbs to be planted around your birthday so that tulips and hyacinths and daffodils would bloom around you in the spring. Make sure to plant them near your window, he had written once, so that the colors and beauty of these flowers keep you company until I can.

And then he had given you the gift of this new life. A safe space. Cloud for your lonely days, a bedroom just for you. A home. A bee colony.

So why was there a void in you?

It felt right when you released the queen bee. It felt meaningful, although you weren’t able to figure out why exactly. You watched her fly around her new home, perhaps she was making herself accustomed to it. Then she disappeared into the apiary.

You knew better than to get to work straight away—you’d give the bees some respite after their travels. Instead, you sat against the trunk of a nearby pine to look at the bees from a distance. To take it all in. To listen to their buzzing layered with birdsong, with the breeze, with the sounds of lazy waves flapping in the distance.

If you had never known peace, would you know to recognize it?

You heard Hanni before you saw the little girl—she appeared running with a smile brighter than the sun on her face, followed by her mother, who tried to keep up with her daughter as best she could. You caught Hanni in flight, hugging her and preventing her from going face-first into an apiary full of live bees. Instead, she settled next to you, an arm under yours.

“Aren’t they beautiful, Hanni?” you asked her while Ha-ri, visibly regretting her decision to involve this little bundle of energy into this, plopped on the other side of you, also leaning against the pine. You handed Hanni the small wooden box still in your hand. “That’s where they put the queen bee while they were transporting them over here. Wherever the queen goes, the colony follows.”

“Is the queen pretty my lady?” Hanni asked with big eyes, pulling gently on the fabric of your dress.

You smiled. Ha-ri reached over you to caress her daughter’s arm lovingly. You took their hands in yours, delight spreading in your heart like an invisible poison—you couldn’t help but feel like you were going to pay the price of the smile on your lips sooner rather than later.

“I think that queen bees are beautiful, yes,” you replied honestly. “But we don’t see them as much as the others, and they’re not as fuzzy as the worker bees, the ones you see working to gather pollen on flowers.”

Hanni sat in silence, nodding as she turned her attention back to the apiary. “Is the king handsome, too?”

You giggled. “There’s no king bee. It’s the queen’s world—she is in charge of the whole colony. She inspects honeycombs and makes sure she can lay her eggs safely.” You paused, watching as two swallows took flight from a small crevice in between two bricks of the manor. “The male bees work for the queen, not the other way around. They see that all of her needs are met, and that she’s happy and healthy.”

Ha-ri’s scoff told enough without words, but she still added, “We should have been born bees instead!” If Hanni hadn’t been there, you would have told Ha-ri about the downsides of the queen’s life, too—after all, it wasn’t all easy for her.

Virgin queens murdered each other so that only one remained—the true queen. After the victorious one emerged, she had only a limited amount of time to mate with drones. If she failed to do so due to weather or other unfortunate circumstances, it would be the end of the colony as there were no other eligible queens to carry it on.

Bees had barbed stingers. It meant that once they string, they died.

Not queens, though. Queen bees could sting repeatedly and remain perfectly healthy, for their stingers lacked barbs.

“I’d like to go out tomorrow, Ha-ri.” The day was beautiful. The sky seemed deep, a blue that reminded you of your favorite dress when you were eight or nine years old. Your sister had been jealous of that dress and had ‘accidentally’ ripped it when she had tried to put it on after stealing it from your bedroom. “Let’s visit the town, you, Seonghwa and I. I’d like to find a thank you gift for my husband.” A nice bottle of whiskey, perhaps. So that you would hear a darling spill from his soft lips again.

“Ha-ri, why is everybody staring at us?”

Behind you, Ha-ri gently pulled on one of the ribbons wrapped around your waist, making sure it held tightly after the short carriage ride from the estate to here. The day was blazing hot, sunnier than yesterday had been—if even possible—and you could already feel your hair sticking to your temples.

Next to you, Seonghwa was having a short conversation with the coachman, explaining that you would be quick with your errands.

You looked around, searching for an answer to your question. Ha-ri came to stand beside you, glancing at you with an enigmatic smile on her face. “Because you’re Lady Hwang, my lady.”

“But, how can they even tell?”

“They know you’re Lady Hwang because they recognize the horses and the carriage, yet, you're new in town,” Ha-ri explained. “They know you’re Lady Hwang because of the silk of your dress, your shiny hair, and because it shows.”

The town was small but had many shops as far as you could tell. You were standing by the pub where the coachman usually left the carriage while Hyunjin or Changbin went and did their errands. You had no idea what you wanted to get Hyunjin exactly, but you just knew that the scale of the gift he had offered you deserved at least a little something. It deserved a gift in return, something to let him know that you appreciated his gesture.

Something to let him know that you weren’t upset with him for what had happened the other night. Sometimes, when your surroundings were too quiet, you still heard him apologizing profusely. I’m sorry. Darling, I’m sorry. A voice heavy with shame. With regret, maybe. You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you could read regret in others even though you had known plenty of it.

Lady Hwang. The one thing you had always known you would become.

You cleared your throat, looking away, choosing to focus on Ha-ri and Seonghwa. “Well, let’s not give them too much of a show to watch,” you decided. You were very much aware of Hyunjin’s reputation around town and had no doubt that the circumstances surrounding his firing of Doctor Yun were known by most, at least to a certain extent. It was the first time you ventured out of the estate since the wedding and you figured that a short appearance would be better than spending the whole day out. Besides, you were looking forward to being back home already to take care of your bees.

You walked behind Seonghwa but next to Ha-ri while she told you all the gossip there was to know about each building and shop on the main road. Who was married to who, who was widowed and who was friends with who.

You had spotted a market where a vendor was selling plants and other greenery—you were considering buying Hyunjin seedlings to add even more roses to his mother’s garden when you passed a shop that caught your attention.

Jeon’s. The building was elegantly built and decorated—large windows showed beautiful furniture as well as other decor items inside the shop.

This was obviously Lord Jeon’s shop, and you stopped right in front of it. “Let’s go in there,” you offered. “I’d like to buy a table or two for the setup around the apiary.”

“W—what? My lady, this is the Jeons’ place,” Ha-ri replied. She almost looked frightened, as if something terrible was waiting for you in that store. “Lord Hwang doesn’t shop there.”

For some reason, you thought about queen bees at that moment. “Well I’m not Lord Hwang, my Ha-ri.” You crossed the few steps that separated you from the door. “Besides, Lord Jeon invited us to dinner. I ought to show some manners and go say hi, don’t you think? It’s not like they’re enemies, is it?”

But Ha-ri’s face seemed to tell you otherwise. Seonghwa opened the door for you, though. “I think Lady Hwang is right,” he said. “It might be good publicity for her to be seen in this store—she’s new blood, after all. It could diffuse the tension between the two families. Besides, I doubt that Lord Jeon himself would be in that store today.”

You weren’t sure you understood why there was tension between Hyunjin and the Jeons, but you were glad that Seonghwa supported you. “Ha-ri, you know, if you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to come in.” You looked behind her, at the stores on the other side of the street. “Isn’t that the shop where you buy your fabrics? You can go there if you prefer. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“With all due respect, my lady, you’re not going in there without me.” Ha-ri walked past you and entered the shop before you or Seonghwa could.

The store was spacious and well-lit due to the large windows all around the building, letting all the sunshine in. A lot of furniture was displayed, and it was all very elegant and fancy. Chairs and armchairs with expensive upholstery, tables made of foreign wood, shelves with elaborate carvings on them. Clients walk among the furniture, looking at everything carefully.

You immediately located the exact kind of table that you thought would suit your needs. They were at the very back of the store, where the more plain-looking pieces were. They may have been a little less intricate in their design, but they had something else you wanted—they looked sturdy and durable, which was ideal for something that would spend several months outside.

“Oh, these tables…” Ha-ri touched one of them, the same one you had noticed. Made of stained hardwood, it was large, with bulky legs and smooth surfaces.

“Wouldn’t this be perfect for your sewing room?” you asked the seamstress, reading her thoughts. “Do you reckon they have more than one of these?”

As if on cue, a man approached the three of you. He was tall and undeniably handsome. Wavy strands of warm brown hair framed his elegant face, but his clothes may have been even more elegant. Linen, velvet and satin. You heard Ha-ri gasp next to you but made yourself smile your best smile. The very one your mother had taught you.

“You must be Lady Hwang,” the man said, dipping his head respectfully. “I thought I recognized your seamstress. What a surprise to see you here today.” He flashed a friendly smile. “I’m Kim Taehyung, it’s a pleasure to have such a special guest in our store today.”

You scanned your memory for that name but it did not ring a bell. Without missing a beat, you turned to Ha-ri and tried to find an answer in her eyes, but she seemed too stunned to react. Thankfully, Seonghwa was acquainted with this man.

“Mr. Kim, thank you for your warm welcome. We’re delighted to meet you.” He spun on his heels, facing you. “My lady, Mr. Kim Taehyung is Lord Jeon’s associate. He is in charge of the company’s stores.”

You nodded and dipped your head in return, showing respect. “Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Kim. You have a lovely selection of items here. Impressive.”

“This would be the first time a Hwang has set foot in this store,” Taehyung observed, still grinning. “And not only is she pretty, she is also gracious. I never thought I’d live to see the day a Hwang would say something kind about our work.”

You weren’t an idiot—you recognized a backhanded compliment when you saw one. You had been the victim of many of those before anyway, and this Taehyung wasn’t particularly subtle about it. After all, before you became one, there was only one Hwang left, and the disdain this man had for Hyunjin was obvious.

But your experience had taught you one thing: in these situations, the best weapon wasn’t cunning, or sarcasm, or criticism. They would be wasted on people like this man who fed on malice. Kindness, however, could take you places. It used to drive your mother crazy when you responded to her acrimony with a soft voice and thoughtful words.

You took a step toward him, reciprocating his grin. “The honor is all mine, Mr. Kim. In fact, I think I’ll be making a significant purchase today.” You spoke gently, making your voice as merry as you could. “Unless you’d rather not do business with a Hwang?”

A flick of the gaze. A slight change in posture. Your arrow had reached its target, but you didn’t let it show that you had noticed, keeping your cheerful demeanor. Kim cleared his throat. “I don’t see why we wouldn’t,” he responded. “In fact, there’s nothing I’d want more, my lady.” He hesitated, shifting his weight on his other leg. “I hear the wedding was quite an event—congratulations are in order. I hope your marriage will be a happy one, my lady.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Kim.” You gave the table a gentle tap. “This one caught our attention—do you have more than one of these?”

“I think we do.” He nodded. “But wouldn’t a lady like you be interested in something more… delicate?”

You gulped, swallowing your rage. Something in the man’s behavior painfully reminded you of your mother. Taunting, concealed between lines of rehearsed fake benevolence.

Whatever rivalry may have existed between your husband and this man’s boss, you figured, had nothing to do with you. So why the witty tone, the remarks? The line between warmth and deception was thin. Thin enough that you saw right through it.

“I assure you that I possess enough intelligence to know what sort of table I require, Mr. Kim. I value durability over looks when it comes to the things I buy, you see. I need two of these tables—one will be for you, Ha-ri—and maybe one of these?” You motioned toward another table a few feet away, similar to the one you had already picked, but in a different size. “They’re for my work and Mrs. Seo’s, so we want something we can trust, and I hear you build the very best furniture in the country.”

Taehyung paused, but only for half a second. “Of course, my lady.” He raised his hand, catching the attention of an employee who hurried toward you with a pen and some paper. “It would be an honor to do business with you.” He dipped his head and when he showed his face again, you thought you saw a glimmer of something in his eyes. Something mischievous, but not quite evil. Playful, perhaps. You hoped for his sake it wasn’t mocking. “Please allow me to offer you a friendly discount for your shopping today.”

Politics, nothing more. You knew enough about men to know this—whatever reasons Kim Taehyung had to offer you a discount, they were not genuine. He would be able to use them against you, or against Hyunjin, should he ever feel like it.

“That won’t be necessary,” you concluded. “Thank you very much, though, but I insist on paying the same price as anyone else walking into your store.” You offered the man a smile, making it as real as you could—but still making sure to add a drop of bitterness to it, to make sure he didn’t take you for a fool—then turned to Seonghwa. “Mr. Seonghwa, would it be alright for you to finish the purchase? Mrs. Ha-ri and I will wait for you outside.”

You let out a sigh after exiting the store. The heat was even worse than it had been before, but at least no one had stuck around just to gape at you.

“What an insufferable man,” Ha-ri muttered under her breath. You suppressed a snort—it wouldn’t be very ladylike of you. “You showed him he shouldn’t treat you like a foolish girl my lady.” She groaned. “Lord Jeon is even worse. I wonder if you and Lord Hwang should decline his invitation…”

You nodded, watching the busy street. A little farther, a group of children were playing with a ball, and part of you wanted to join them. But you stayed close to Ha-ri.

“I don’t like to fold, Ha-ri.” You felt warmth spreading within you, almost as if the rays of the sun permeated through your skin. “All my life I was told to be a good girl and taught how to be one—but I would lie if I said I didn’t enjoy using a little bit of contempt on men like them. Whatever rivalry exists between them and my husband, I don’t intend on letting them think they’re better than us.”

Ha-ri watched you with a mix of apprehension and something that looked like approval. You’d invite her to your room tonight and share a bottle of wine—this way, you’d get a detailed list of all the things she hated about the Jeons.

“Let’s get wine,” you told Ha-ri, turning to her. “And whiskey,” you added, hoping they would have something special. You would get a whole bottle just for Hyunjin.

As Ha-ri was telling you about your options between two different stores to make your purchase, yet another, unrelated shop caught your attention. Across the street, a few buildings down from the one you were standing in front of, was a wooden storefront with a large window. William’s Crafts.

“What is that over there, my Ha-ri?” you asked, showing your friend the store with the painted canvases in its windows.

“Oh! Bill’s! Haven’t been there in a while.” Ha-ri offered you a smile. “I bet his hair is all gray now. He sells art supplies, you see.”

You didn’t know Hyunjin—you had moved here just so recently, weren't yet accustomed to your new life. You had never met him before, had never seen him before except for one portrait sent by his family to yours when you were a baby. You didn’t know him except for the letters he sent you every year.

You knew him better than anyone on this Earth, and you had read Hyunjin’s letters over and over until they were engraved in your brain, in your soul.

I was hoping I could send you a sketch this year, but I’m afraid I can’t. Father doesn’t want me drawing, he says it’s a waste of time and gave my pencils away to the Count’s daughter.

Seonghwa was reappearing, climbing down the few steps of the Jeon’s store to join you again. “Ha-ri,” you started, your voice shaking with trepidation, with something darker, too, “let’s go to Bill’s shop right away. I’d like to see what he has.”

Hyunjin may have been exhausted from traveling and from the week of hard labor behind him, but all he felt when he saw the outline of his home in the distance was relief. It grew in his chest slowly, reminding him of the wisteria that grew on the western walls of the manor—vines progressing slowly, becoming sturdier, stronger, until the fragrant flowers bloomed. This is how he felt. Like a sweet scent had established its quarters in his heart.

Because, for the first time in his life, Hyunjin had something to return home to. Something. Someone. You.

Had the apiary made it in one piece? The farmers had assured him they would be able to transport it safely and that the colony would only suffer minimal losses. They had showed him how they would proceed, and had even demonstrated their methods to ensure the well-being of the queen. Hyunjin knew nothing about beekeeping, but these men had seemed like they were capable enough.

Had you liked the gift? Had it made you happy? Happier, at least?

Hyunjin emerged from his distracted state when Changbin nudged him. The carriage’s cabin may have been small—and they may have been just the two of them in it—but Hyunjin had been lost in his thoughts nonetheless, not paying much attention to what his friend was telling him.

It was dusk—the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, cooling the air a little. Still, Hyunjin kept his gaze on the window. “Sorry, Changbin. You were saying?”

“I was asking if the new doctor would be there,” Changbin retorted, obviously annoyed but also amused.

“Unless there has been a change of schedule, Dr. Lee should arrive tomorrow,” Hyunjin reminded him. “Are you alright?”

Changbin chuckled, trying to conceal a grin but failing miserably. “Me, sir? I’m quite alright. It’s you I’m worried about. I haven’t seen you in this state since… well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” Seo Changbin was a funny man, and his playfulness always came from a good place. In fact, it was his humor that had kept Hyunjin going a lot of the time, all these years.

Hyunjin played along but kept his composure. “Seen me like what, Changbin?”

Changbin let out a laugh. “Whatever the opposite of sulking is, sir.” He paused, his expression returning to something more serious. “I jest but really, I mean it.” Another pause, longer this time—long enough that they had reached the gate by the time Changbin spoke again. “Are we not going to talk about the other night, Hyunjin?”

There were no specifications required—Hyunjin knew exactly what night Changbin was referring to. The evening with you, in your bedroom, the evening where jealousy and lust had created an ugly storm within him. Not ugly. Mighty would be a more appropriate word.

He had thought a lot about that night, about the things he had learned about you and the things you had learned about him. You had every reason to hate him, to resent him—Hyunjin knew this. The apiary and the bees weren’t a way to make you forget his faults and his flaws, flaws that he had well before marrying you. It was just a way to make your daily life a little better. It was just so you could have something that was yours, and yours only.

Hyunjin had thought a lot about that night, the same way a religious man would think about his god. The same way a man affected by illness would obsess about a cure. And what if there was no cure? What if there was no god to hear his prayers?

He couldn’t stop thinking about you, your lips like satin, your warm breath on his skin. Your hand around his cock, inquisitive, forgiving, smooth. He couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of your mouth and the scent that had lingered on his fingers after you had pressed his hand between your legs. Just a faint smell, sweet, made diffuse with the scent of his own sweat and the floral water your clothes had soaked in. He wanted more of it, more of you. He wanted your scent sticking to him like expensive cologne from Paris, your essence coating his fingers, his cock, his lips—

Changbin interrupted his thoughts, and perhaps it was better this way. “So I guess we’re not going to talk about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest as the carriage slowed down, approaching the manor.

“What is there to say?” Hyunjin meant this. As far as he knew, all that Changbin was aware of was that he had gotten drunk and then you had needed his help to get Hyunjin up the next morning.

The truth, of course, was much worse. Or much better, depending how one perceived it. Hyunjin had gotten drunk on whiskey, but then he had gotten drunker on you and the jealousy stirring up inside of him as he learned about you, and that maid of yours. And yet he had no reason to be jealous.

He wanted to forget your eyes the exact moment you had asked him about the brothels, and the girls. But just like the memory of your scent, your gaze haunted him.

How would you welcome him back home? Hyunjin was no fool—he knew all too well that an apiary wouldn’t suffice to erase his wrongdoings. He just wanted you to have something. He just wanted you to feel like you belonged.

“You are your own worst enemy,” Changbin reminded him. “The only thing getting in your way is yourself.”

Hyunjin felt a pang of anger rise within him but he made efforts to keep his voice low so that he wouldn’t be heard by the driver. “You know that’s not exactly true.” But really, Hyunjin meant, you know I have my reasons. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t even want to think about it.

The only thing getting in Hyunjin’s way was his father, and the legacy he had left him with. The Hwang curse, the one he had passed on to you when he had married you. He shouldn’t have kept his end of the bargain—the deal had been between his father and yours in the first place anyway.

He wished he could free you. That he could disappear, get on a boat and fuck off to another continent. They’d assume he was dead and you would become the sole owner of his property. You’d eventually remarry, hopefully to a good man who could give you a child or two before it was too late. A man that wouldn’t be cursed. A man with a heart in his chest instead of a vacant space.

He couldn’t. He simply could not do that for reasons too ugly, too elaborate for him to even think about tonight. This fairytale would never come true, not even if he actually died right here, right now. All of this thanks to his shithead of a father. All of this thanks to the legacy he had left behind.

Hyunjin’s breathing became shallow when the carriage slowed down, then stopped. He turned to Changbin. “I appreciate your counsel, Changbin. I’ll keep that in mind. You should go and find Ha-ri, I’m sure she and the kids missed you.”

Changbin was not an idiot—Hyunjin’s polite way of dismissing him only indicated he wanted to be alone. Still, Changbin nodded. “It was my intention to do just that, sir.”

The night was nice and a warm breeze flew over them when Hyunjin left the carriage. The driver was already getting their bags to a domestic. He was with Anhjong and with another man that Hyunjin finally recognized as Park Seonghwa.

“My replacement!” Changbin had initially wanted to refuse his new position among Hyunjin’s council but in the end Hyunjin had convinced it would be for the best. More importantly, he had made him understand that his upbringing shouldn’t be a source of shame for him. “It’s nice seeing you again, Seonghwa. It’s been a while.”

Seonghwa had been employed under Christopher for many years but had left the Bangs for a short while when his father had become ill. Not wanting to leave his mother and younger siblings in need, he had returned to the farmstead where he had been raised, only to come back when he was no longer needed over there. Christopher had taken him back, naturally—but at the news of his return, Hyunjin had asked if he could perhaps employ Seonghwa. He had always liked him, his soft demeanor, his intelligence. It had been the perfect occasion to finally promote Changbin.

“Mr. Seo, what a pleasure indeed.” The new steward dipped his head with a wide smile. He turned to Hyunjin, dipping his head lower. “Lord Hwang, it is an honor to—” But Hyunjin cut him off when the man went to kneel.

“No, please.” Hyunjin hated this. How people either respected him because of his last name or despised him because of it. As if there was no in-between. “Stand, Mr. Seonghwa. And let me wish you a warm—but late—welcome into my home. Thank you for accepting to come work here.”

Few people actually wanted to work for him. Because of his last name, of course. Thankfully, being a Hwang had the perk of making him rich, which greatly helped when it was time to find staff.

“Thank you for offering the job, my lord.” Seonghwa’s smile grew larger if it were even possible. His eyes shone under the dim light of the lanterns. “When Lord Christopher told me about it… I couldn’t refuse. I’ve always liked your estate, sir.”

Hyunjin felt a strange pride rise within him. There was one thing he did like and it was the manor itself, its stone walls, its large windows, and the pine forest surrounding the grounds. He liked the garden, too, and its fragrant flowers, and the magnolia tree.

“I’m very much looking forward to having you among us, Mr. Seonghwa. Are things going smoothly?”

Changbin seemed to have calmed down, but Hyunjin knew he owed him an apology, and not just for the last few moments in the carriage. He had been insufferable all week, tortured by regret and dark thoughts during the day, and haunted by the memory of you at night. Your delicate hand around his cock… your face as you had tasted and swallowed his cum. He was certain he would become crazy. Insane. That he would have to be institutionalized.

“Quite good, or so I think.” Seonghwa was helping the driver as he piled up bags, and Hyunjin joined them while Changbin was gathering the belongings left on the seat. “Dr. Lee arrived a couple of days ago and he’s settling in well. Oh, and there was a minor plumbing issue in the east wing but it was fixed the same day with no damage, my lord.”

Hyunjin nodded. He’d need to meet with Dr. Lee as soon as possible, but he figured it could wait as it was already late. After all, they weren’t supposed to return tonight—the initial plan involved them staying overnight in the nearby town instead of traveling in the dark, but Hyunjin had offered Changbin to travel for a little longer so that he could be reunited with his family sooner. Of course, Changbin had accepted, and while Hyunjin knew he had been eager to be with them again, he also knew his friend had read him like an open book.

“Thank you, Seonghwa.” Hyunjin cleared his throat, thankful for the darkness. He leaned against the bags, taking a deep breath. “Do you happen to know if my wife has gone to bed?” Ignoring Changbin’s side glance, he went on. “I bought a few things for her on my travels.”

Anhjong had left for a few minutes for the kitchen, bringing back with her a pitcher of lemonade and empty glasses. She had been avoiding his gaze, but did a very poor job at suppressing her amused smile when she heard Hyunjin.

“Ah, we haven’t seen much of your lady wife this week, have we, my lord?” Seonghwa chuckled, sharing a knowing smile with Anhjong. “She’s been quite busy with her apiary.”

Hyunjin’s heart jumped in his chest. “So she likes them? The bees?”

It was Anhjong who responded to him. “That would be an understatement, my lord.” She offered him a glass of cool lemonade, which he accepted eagerly. He noticed it wasn’t quite the same as usual. Just as sweet, but a different kind of sweet. It had been made with honey instead of sugar. “Mr. Seonghwa isn’t exaggerating—we’ve barely managed to keep your wife indoors for more than an hour at a time since she’s received your gift.”

He tried to remain calm and to keep his composure. Hyunjin drank the lemonade in one go, putting the empty glass back on the tray. “She can’t be still out there at this hour, can she?” He couldn’t see your window from here.

“I actually am not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” the maid admitted. “I’ll go get her, my lord.”

Hyunjin sounded a little too keen when he spoke. “No, that’s alright!” He cleared his throat. “I mean, it is late, Ahnjong. You and Mr. Seonghwa deserve to get some rest. Where did they install the apiary, exactly?”

“Oh, not far from the furthermost entrance of the garden, by the pine tree,” Seonghwa explained.

Hyunjin breathed deeply, hesitating. “Then I should go check up on her, make sure she gets back inside. Goodnight, everybody.” He offered a shitty but apologetic smile to Changbin. “Say hi to Ha-ri for me, will you?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

After urging everyone to get to their rooms, Hyunjin started his journey around the manor to reach you. He actually took the longer route just to give himself some time to clear his mind, to think about something other than the ideas clouding his thoughts. Your lips, soft, delicate, coated in honey. Or his saliva, or his cum. Your laugh, the one you had when you really meant it. The letters you had written for him and the sweet gifts you had attached.

There were many things Hyunjin didn't like about himself. In fact, he may have many enemies in this world but nobody hated him as much as he hated himself. But you had changed things. And perhaps you had changed him—it certainly felt like it, although he couldn’t say how exactly. But you were his favorite thing about his life, and had been for a long time.

It was completely dark by the time he reached the spot, but the soft lighting of the dining room window sufficed to tell Hyunjin you weren’t, in fact, working on your apiary tonight. He couldn’t see too well, but he noticed the apiary itself sitting on top of what seemed to be a sturdy table. Another table had been added next to it, with a couple of chairs and some tools and other supplies. He dared not approach—would the bees react to him, attack him?

Instead, Hyunjin looked farther down the path ahead of him. If he followed it, he would continue to circle the manor and eventually pass your window. If I see light, I’ll at least let her know I’m home, Hyunjin decided. It seemed like the sort of thing a husband would do, right?

His mouth was dry despite the lemonade. Would you even want to talk to him? Maybe the time apart had been enough for you to realize what a loser he really was—for all he knew, the reason you apparently spent all your time outside was because you couldn’t bear to be elsewhere. Maybe—

Hyunjin’s train of thoughts was cut abruptly when he noticed the light in your window. It was dim, but it was there. No more than a candle or two, but enough to let him know that you were awake. You liked to read before bed, you had always told him in your letters. It had made him want to be a talented author so that he could write for you, endlessly, story after story.

Instead of heading back inside, Hyunjin decided to go up the outdoor stairs leading to your balcony. This way, he’d be able to make sure you were actually awake instead of knocking at your door and risk waking you.

He wouldn’t be mad if you were asleep. Would it be wrong to stay there and watch you? Just for a little while? He hadn’t been able to stare at you long enough, and maybe his whole entire life wouldn’t be enough anyway. As if your beauty was too grand, too intricate, for him to process in just a few minutes, hours, or even years. It was the sort of beauty that started from within, that grew from your heart, extending to every part of you.

The sort of beauty that his mere existence would be enough to taint it. To ruin it, to ruin you.

Hyunjin heard you when he reached the top of the staircase. The curtains were pulled, but you had left the door cracked open, and the sound came from there. He stopped in his tracks, almost falling down the stairs, listening more closely. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. Surely, he hadn’t heard well. Surely, it was something else.

Until he heard your voice again. Moaning, breathing hard, whimpering. Moans so beautiful it made him want to cry. Moans so beautiful it made his cock twitch, and an aching pressure grew inside of him.

And then the anger came. Were you with a man in there? Were you actually letting a man have his way with you while you thought Hyunjin was still away?

Hyunjin wanted many things at once—he wanted to turn back and run away, far far away. He wanted to barge into the room and kill the man who dared touch you, to make you moan like that. He wanted to sit here on the cool rock of the balcony and listen to you and cry.

But instead, he took a look inside.

When he was little, Hyunjin had ventured out of the manor, craving adventure. Craving solitude, too. He was usually allowed in the garden on his own but no farther. That day, however, he had gone into the pine forest, and he had walked for a long time. Just him, a pen, and a piece of paper. He also kept a bottle of ink in his pocket in case he ran out, but he took note of all the things he saw that day. Deer, partridges, a few minks here and there. Foxes, ravens, all sorts of warblers he couldn’t name. Another strange bird whose voice sounded like a flute. He had thought he saw a bear in the distance but he wasn’t sure.

Anyway—Hyunjin had gotten lost that day following the trail of a badger. He just wanted to catch a glimpse of it and its striking black-and-white face. The sun was already on its way down when he had realized he couldn’t find his way back to the estate, and a wave of panic had spread through him, taking up all the space inside his veins, his whole body, doubling his body weight, or so it had felt like it. There had been many layers to that panic—his father would kill him when he’d find out, and what would the maids say behind his back? Would they blame his mother? Was it too late—could he avoid being caught at all? Surely, nobody had noticed his absence. Right? Right? Right?

He felt sort of like that tonight but instead of surging through him, the state of alarm grew slowly and steadily, setting fire to his skin. He could not look away from the inside of the room, could not look away from the bed.

He could not look away from you.

There was a lot to process and watching you truly felt like being lost in a forest after dark. You were on the bed, on your knees, and your body was undulating much like the branches of a willow on a breezy day, or maybe like the waves of a stormy sea. You had a white nightgown over your body but it did very little to conceal your thighs and Hyunjin could see something in between them. It wasn’t a man, or a woman, and it wasn’t even your own hand.

You were rubbing yourself onto one of your pillows, squirming and moaning and rolling your hips, seeking pleasure in each movement. The moans were quiet as you often bit your lip to prevent being heard. But you couldn’t help it, the little whimpers, the gasps, as you fucked yourself onto that pillow.

Hyunjin watched, stunned, observing every detail of the scene, every detail of you. The white, almost see-through fabric of your sleep gown, allowing him to see your nipples poking through and the soft color of them. He wished it wasn’t so dark and he wished he could see better.

He wished that instead of the pillow, it was him between your legs. Blood rushed to his cock as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust, as your head fell back when the rolling of your hips intensified. He was throbbing already, his erection pressing against his pants almost painfully. He wanted nothing more than to join you and fuck you into your mattress, over and over, filling you to the brim. He wanted nothing more than seeing his own seed drip from the hole he had just fucked sloppy.

He wanted to eat his cum off your pretty cunt and kiss you with his mouth full of it.

He felt his cock over his trousers, imagining it were your hand fondling him, picturing your bare breasts and his mouth over them. Maybe he would cum on them, too. If he could, if he were anything but what he was—the Orphan or Lord Hwang or whatever—he would fuck every part of you. Your virgin cunt, your tight ass, your pretty tits. He would fuck your mouth, watch his cock disappear between your peach-colored lips, and listen to the sound of you choking on the cum he would spurt directly into your throat.

His eyes followed your movement—his hand, too. He rubbed himself to the same swaying motion as your hips. If any blood was still flowing to his brain, he would notice the amplitude of your movements. But all he had in mind was to be in the place of that pillow and to watch you take all of him, just like that, just like the little whore you were.

He had to bite into his fist when you came. You came the same way an angel would ascend from earth after a divine visit—quick humps on the pillows followed by long, languid ones, both of your hands on your breasts, your legs wide open. Hyunjin had been to museums a few times and none of the paintings there could compare to the art that was your orgasm.

Deep, raspy moans, long ones, moans that you couldn’t keep quiet. Your voice made him want to die—if he wasn’t the one making you scream, what was the point anyway? Your voice made him want to live forever, because the existence of you was the point of life itself. You, the perfection that you were, his pretty wife fucking herself—and fucking herself good. Good enough to fill your bedroom with your honeyed voice, in waves of pleasure more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before.

His cock was throbbing and leaking by the time you collapsed onto your bed with a sigh, spent and content. He quickly disappeared behind the door, fearing you might see him now that you were done. But he couldn’t hold himself for much longer. Hell, if you decided to go at it again, he didn’t think he could resist joining you. Maybe he’d fuck you once on your bed, then he’d bend you over your table and fuck his cum deeper into you until he had rendered you properly dumb, until you had lost your words.

The knock on the door inside your bedroom brought him back to his senses. “My lady?”

It seemed to shock you just as much as it shocked him. He heard an abrupt brushing of fabric and figured you had probably quickly covered yourself. “Anhjong? What is it?” Your voice was trembling a little and you were out of breath. He wanted nothing more than to kiss your neck and revel in the taste of your sweat.

“I’m so sorry to bother you my lady, I saw light and…” The maid’s voice trailed off, just for a few seconds. “Lord Hwang just returned and he… he was looking for you, my lady. He went to look for you at the apiary but you weren’t there, and I thought you’d like to be informed of his return.”

The silence that spread in the room was thicker than honey. “Hyunjin? He was supposed to be back tomorrow.” Again, brushing of fabrics, but followed by footsteps now. You had gotten up. Hyunjin gulped and closed his eyes, hoping you wouldn’t be coming anywhere near this side of the room. He feared you might hear his pulse if you did, for his heart had rarely beat so strongly before.

He heard more ruffling and a door being opened. “Where is he now?” you asked. “Did he say why he was back early?”

Hyunjin heard the playful smile in your maid’s voice. “According to Mr. Seo, Lord Hwang tried to insist it was to make sure he would be reunited with Ha-ri sooner.” She chuckled silently. “But I think he missed you, my lady.”

You didn’t say anything for several seconds, and Hyunjin couldn’t hear ambient noises while a breeze blew over. It faded after a while but you still hadn’t spoken.

When you did, it was with a much steadier voice than you had earlier. “How do I look? My hair?”

“Beautiful, my lady. Should I send Mr. Seonghwa to find Lord Hyunjin?”

“No thank you, Anhjong—I’ll find him myself, he can’t be very far.” He heard more footsteps, and the beginning of another sentence, but it was cut off when you closed the door behind you after leaving your bedroom.

… and Hyunjin breathed again, finally filling his lungs and exhaling painfully. He was still dizzy and he knew now it had very little to do with his lack of oxygen. What would you have thought of him if you had found him like this, stalking you during this intimate moment with a hand over the bulge in his trousers?

He knew two things—he needed to cum and he needed to get the fuck out of there. If you had been told he was outside, it was likely that he’d encounter you if he went down the steps and through the main entrance. He did not want you to see him in the state he was in, not after being absent, not after what had happened before he left.

Hyunjin would go through your bedroom and into the hallway and lock himself in his bedroom to take care of the ache in his balls. And then he’d let you see him, perhaps, if he had calmed down. If he could ever calm down.

There were voices in Hyunjin’s mind, and one of them kept telling him that he would never, ever be content, never feel satiated, not if he couldn’t have you.

He smelled you the second he stepped into the room and it made the simple task of walking difficult. There were a few scents floating in the room—the floral water they soaked your linen in, your perfume, and the faint smell of your previous home that lingered on your clothes and your belongings, like the salt of the ocean. But the only scent that seemed to be of any importance to Hyunjin was you—not whatever you sprayed behind your ears. Your essence.

He should have crossed the room and not paid any mind to anything but your bed caught his attention. The pillow was still on it, exactly where it had been while you were riding it and cumming all over it. The bed was unmade, unruly, and he wanted to lie on it and coat himself in your scent. He wanted to wait for you there.

He did not. Instead, he came closer. The bed was still warm but that wasn’t the important part—in the dim light of the candles, Hyunjin could see that the pillow was wet. There was a stain where your pussy had been moments ago, and it glistened under the quivering flames. He choked on his air, his blood boiling under his skin. Surely, this is how dying felt like.

His aching cock begged him to please, please touch the stain, inhale your scent, fill his lungs with it. Naturally, Hyunjin obliged.

He reached for the soft pillow, pulling it towards him and then under his nose. His pulse was so loud that he wouldn’t hear you if you came back into the room but he was past caring. All of his troubles had evaporated into thin air, replaced by the ghost of your moans echoing in his ears and the sweet scent of your virgin cunt. He smelled again, and again, his cock pulsing each time.

Your scent was as pretty as you were. Hyunjin’s eyelids fluttered when his lips accidentally brushed against the damp fabric of the pillow, harvesting a few drops of your juices on them. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—

There was no turning back now. Hyunjin inhaled deeply before carefully parting his lips to lick you off the pillow. He couldn’t let it go to waste, could he?

Your taste hit him like a violent storm, like an earthquake, like a song, like the first day of spring. You tasted sweet and tangy with deeper, more complex whispers of salt, musk and honey. One lick was not enough to comprehend the intricacy of your essence—Hyunjin began lapping frantically at the stain you had left while burying his hand into his trousers to relieve the unbearable pressure in his groin. His cock was the hardest it had ever been, and warm to the touch.

He used the pillow to muffle his moan when he squeezed himself. He was close already. He wanted to cum, finally, to rid himself of the ache. He never wanted to cum, he wanted to stay here, lost in your scent, your taste. The pillow wasn’t enough—he needed his face buried into your pussy, your sweet juices coating him, your thighs around his neck, your weight on his throat. It should have been him you were straddling, it should have been his face you were riding. For hours. For days. It didn’t matter if Hyunjin died there because he would have reached heaven before his last breath.

It took three strokes for Hyunjin to cum. He came thinking of fucking your virgin cunt with his tongue and teasing your clit until you sank your finger nails into his scalp. He came thinking of your soaked folds, of your pretty pussy, all creamy, just for him. He came thinking of your moans turning into his name that you were chanting, over and over, as he fucked you. He came so hard that he lost his balance and ended with one knee on your bed as he shot long strings of cum, soiling his pants. He gasped and whined into your pillow and your juices as he pulsed into his palm, his whole body convulsing through his orgasm.

Maybe it took him an hour to recover. Maybe it took him a minute. His cum was dripping down his thigh, almost reaching his knee, when Hyunjin managed to stand upright again. He let go of your pillow, putting it back on the bed where it had been. Hyunjin adjusted his softening cock into his pants and wiped his hand on them. He would need to change. He needed to clean up. You’d smell him and you’d smell yourself on him, too, if you saw him.

So Hyunjin made a run for it, bolting out of the room and carefully closing the door behind him. The hallway was dimly lit, but he noticed Cloud as the kitten chased something. A mouse, or a bug perhaps. She paid him no mind as Hyunjin ran to his room as quietly as he could.

Shame overcame him when he pressed his back against the closed—and locked—door of his own bedroom. It washed over him slowly and he closed his eyes. He could still smell you. He could still taste you. His cock was still tingling with the aftershock of his strong orgasm.

Every time he took a breath, your scent invaded him again, and the taste of your pussy haunted his lips. This whole time, his whole life, he had been certain that by marrying you, he was going to make you miserable—that you’d be a prisoner. A captive of the misery he had put you in.

But now he understood. You may have been a prisoner but so was he. His wrists were bound by an invisible thread made of shame and guilt and gold. He was just as much of a captive as you were, but his goaler had lips softer than silk and a pussy that tasted sweeter than honey. People thought of him as unstable, people said he was insane—but Hyunjin knew that was nothing compared to the madness that would conquer him over time. Simply because you were his wife. Simply because he’d rather destroy himself than letting you pay the price of his father’s mistakes.

Hyunjin jumped when someone knocked at his door. Afraid it might be you, he quickly pressed against the door to make sure that you wouldn’t be able to open it despite it being locked.

He sighed in relief when he heard Seonghwa’s voice. “My lord? Are you in there? Your lady wife is looking for you—she was not outside, but indoors.”

Hyunjin took a deep breath. “Thank you, Seonghwa.” He hesitated. “I realized I was rather grimy after all this travel and that I should change before meeting with my wife. In fact, could you send a basin of warm water, please?”

“Of course, my lord. I’ll make sure her ladyship is informed that you’ll meet her shortly.”

Hyunjin didn’t even respond—besides, he heard Seonghwa’s footsteps as he walked away in the hallway. He didn’t waste any more time and went into the bathroom to undress. Someone must have been warned of their arrival because they had lit up his bedroom already, and the room basked in the soft lighting of a few lanterns and some candles. He watched the flames dance for a few seconds before using a handkerchief to wipe the cum that was drying on his thigh. He wrapped himself in a robe while Ahnjong herself brought the water. She still had this smile on her face that Hyunjin simply couldn’t read.

“Thank you, Anhjong.” The maid also left him with clean towels. “I’ll be downstairs very soon.” He wasn’t even sure he wanted to see you right now, not that the idea was unpleasant, but more because he didn’t know how he would react. And yet, he had missed you. More than he thought he would.

“Actually, my lord, your wife has asked me to let you know she’ll be waiting for you in her bedroom in a little while.” The maid’s smile grew wider but she did her best to conceal it. “She is washing up as well and will be ready promptly.”

Yes, of course—you’d want to wash the scent of sex off your skin before meeting with him. Same as he was doing. In another life, his scent would have been laced with yours. Perhaps he would bathe with you after making love to you, and massage your favorite oils into your skin. Would you let him brush your hair? Would you let him wrap you in soft blankets and hold you until you fell asleep?

This life that could never be. This life that would haunt him.

“I’ll be quick,” he assured, and Anhjong exited the room, leaving Hyunjin alone.

Hyunjin washed up, starting with his face. Despite the warmth of the air, the hot water felt good on his skin, melting the day away, and the sweat, and maybe a little bit of the shame, too. But it would take a lot more than warm water to erase all of it—Hyunjin didn’t think that anything could ever rid him of this burden anyway.

You sat for what seemed like a long while on the stone railing of your balcony. You needed fresh air—your heart was beating in your chest as if you had run laps around the estate, and one might have believed that you had a fever based on the warmth emanating from your skin. But it was not that at all. You were nervous. Excited, maybe. A little bit of both.

Hyunjin was back. Finally.

You had missed him, missed his presence around the manor, missed the sight of him wandering the garden in the afternoon. The sound of his voice, the scratching of his pen on paper, his delicate footsteps. You had missed him and yet you feared his return. He gave you bees. He gave you a colony of bees, you kept repeating yourself. The night was clear and there were stars in it, twinkling and shining and decorating the dark-blue sky. It must have been a new moon because you couldn’t see it. There was a knot in your stomach. He gave you a bee colony, but what did it actually mean?

Would he speak to you gently? Would he tell you all about his business trip, the people he met? Would he tell you about the foods he ate, about the work he did? Would he ask you about the bees?

You looked down at the small table in between the set of chairs that had been placed for your convenience, so you could enjoy your balcony. The bottle of whiskey you had bought for Hyunjin waited here—when he would join you, Seonghwa would take care of moving the other gift you had found for Hyunjin into his room. You hoped that he would like it.

You hoped that he would drink some whiskey, that you would hear him call you darling again, that he would kiss you and touch you, that his tongue would play with yours again. You hoped for more, you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help craving him, his smooth cock, his scent. His voice in your ear, whispering everything and nothing all at once. The look on his face while he came—the ecstasy overcoming him, taking control of his soul. You wanted to feel him again. Taste him again.

Hyunjin knocked at your door just a few minutes later—you were grateful he didn’t leave you to wait for too long, as you were a little impatient to see him again. You didn’t even know how he would behave. After all, after the other night, he had barely talked to you, and then he had left…

You recognized his personal knock. It was short yet melodic. “Yes,” you said, making sure to speak up to be heard. “Come in.” But you didn’t hear the door being pushed open due to how deafening your heartbeat was.

You had forgotten how handsome he was. You knew that he was handsome, but it was as if his absence had made you forget exactly the extent of his beauty. You observed him as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, noticing that he did not lock it. He was wearing a white linen shirt and dark slacks, but his hair was unruly and he seemed tired. Or maybe that was a trick of the light.

He was looking around the room, evidently searching for you. “I’m outside,” you called. “Care to join me for a drink?” You took the bottle from the table, hiding it behind your back. Childish, foolish. And yet. Your skin was pricking from the anticipation of being reunited with your husband, as fucked up as your marriage was.

Hyunjin paused, or hesitated, before crossing the room. You stood as he stepped foot on the balcony, unable to look away from him, his angelic face and the dark locks of hair framing it. His lips like rose petals, his molasses eyes. You froze in place, air stuck in your throat, the memory of his body against yours invading your mind, clouding it.

He froze too, staring at you intently, his eyes going up and down and left and right, waltzing over your body like a skilled dancer would on a dancefloor. And yet, his gaze always returned to yours, although it tended to melt a little and linger on your lips more than elsewhere.

You dipped your head—just a little, not too much so as not to upset him. “Welcome back, Hyunjin.” You smiled when you looked at him again. “I’m happy to see you.”

He did not move, did not bat an eye. Hyunjin stared at you for a long while, a frown forming between his brows. You wanted to jump over the balcony railing and run away in shame.

He must have noticed a sudden change in your mood, but he stuttered when he spoke. “I’m—I’m very—huh—” He gulped thickly and bit his lower lip. “You’re happy to see me.”

He hadn’t said it as a question, not even really as a statement—Hyunjin was repeating your words as if he hadn’t grasped the meaning of them, despite the words being quite simple.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you tried again, hoping the message would reach him, but it didn’t look like it did. You decided to act quickly and pulled the whiskey bottle from behind your back. “This is just a small welcome-back gift. And a thank you gift, too.”

Hyunjin blinked, staring at the whiskey. “For me?”

Would he just repeat everything you said like this until you both grew old and gray? “Yes, for you.” You shook the bottle, inviting him to take it from you. “Be honest with me if you don’t like this. I wanted something special for you.”

Slowly, Hyunjin reached for the whiskey and looked at the bottle under the flame of a candle. “Infused with botanicals?” His voice was soft, low, almost like he didn’t want to be heard. “I never tried that before.” He frowned again, meeting your gaze. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to.” You leaned against the railing, welcoming the cool stone under your touch. You paused, searching for the right words, but there was no right or wrong here, just the blunt, simple truth. “You bought a bee colony. For me.”

Hyunjin nodded, putting the whiskey bottle on the table as he worked on opening it. “Yes, it was a pure coincidence that one of our wheels needed repair exactly at this location.” Every word he said filled his mouth like notes played on a piano before spilling from his plush lips like the most gentle breeze. “I… I know it doesn’t erase what I did.” Maybe he found it easier to speak with you when he was looking away from you. “I hope it makes you happier. A little.”

“What you did?” You sighed, hoping he didn’t mean what you thought he meant. “Are you talking about… about the other night, before you left?”

It took several seconds before Hyunjin spoke again. “I should not have disrespected you. I’m your husband.”

Sometimes, you could still feel him rutting against you, your hand wrapped around his pretty cock. Thinking about it made you wet. “You didn’t disrespect me. I’m your wife.”

Hyunjin turned around swiftly, facing you. He was closer now, just inches away from you, towering over you—but you were not frightened, no matter how upset he may look. Darkness may have made a home out of him, but you had never been afraid of the dark. “And you think that I should treat you like this just because you’ve had the misfortune of being promised to me?”

You took a deep breath. To keep your composure. To inhale his scent. He smelled like freshly pressed clothes and sweat and cologne, and you wanted to bury your face in his neck. “It’s not a misfortune.” Why you were happy to be his wife eluded you, but you were, and you couldn’t deny it. “Not to me,” you added, knowing full well he was projecting his own issues onto you.

To relieve his bitterness, maybe. Or something. After all, Hyunjin was an important man—his father may have done what he did, it had only affected his wife and son. It had taken nothing away from the weight of the Hwang name. A weight that burdened Hyunjin… and you, too, now.

But Hyunjin was important enough that he could have married some relative of the king himself. Hyunjin looked like a prince, sometimes acted like one. A tortured one, but still—you knew he didn’t resent you, but you also knew he resented his marriage to you.

Your husband gazed into your eyes, scanning your irises as if you were a book written in a foreign language. You tried to hold his gaze but it was difficult. You wanted to look at his lips, too, to remember what they felt like.

He just shook his head, did not deny your suspicions. “Thank you. For the whiskey.” He wet his lips with one enticing swipe of the tongue. “Let’s have a drink.”

You sat down while he unscrewed the cork, looking away. You couldn’t see much from here, but looking at the dark night was better than the alternative. Not that Hyunjin was unpleasant to look at—quite the contrary.

The more you stared at him, the more love for him grew in your heart, and you knew it could destroy you.

The familiar sound of the amber liquid being poured in your glass brought you back to reality. Hyunjin raised his glass at you after sitting across from you and you returned the gesture, still letting him have the first taste. You did study him as he coated his mouth with the liquid, letting its flavors spread on his taste buds. His expression softened and the corners of his lips turned into a faint smile.

“This is delicious, actually.” He signaled you to have a taste. “I’ve never tasted anything like this.”

Neither had you. The whiskey itself was crisp, yet sweet, and yet undeniably vegetal. It tasted like a summer day. Like freshly cut grass, like rosemary, like marjoram, like bitter orange, like juniper berries. The man who had sold it to you had also mentioned it being infused with saffron and fir needles.

“Oh my god,” Hyunjin added, drinking more, licking every drop of it off his plush lips. “How come I never had this before?” He was staring at the content of his glass as if it contained the answers to his question. The whiskey was darker than a regular one, but you still saw the candle flames reflect on it like a dance.

You chuckled, pleased that your gift had the desired effect on him. “I doubt you often do your own shopping, especially not in town,” you pointed out. “Am I wrong?”

“You’re not.” Hyunjin had finished his glass and was already pouring himself another, not even asking before adding some whiskey to yours. “I’m not very popular, as I’m sure you’ve noticed if you did go.” Suddenly, he frowned, looking at you inquisitively. “You didn’t go alone, did you?”

“I was with Mr. Seonghwa and Ha-ri.” You thought about Kim Taehyung’s condescending attitude, letting Hyunjin drink a few more sips of liquor before breaking the news to him. “I bought a few tables for myself—the apiary—and for Ha-ri’s sewing, too.”

“No problem at all, I will settle the bills at the end of the month.” Hyunjin was still enthralled by the whiskey and the scene was almost endearing. He was now studying the label on the bottle, often returning to a sip or to smell it.

“I paid with my own money.” You put your glass back on the table. Hyunjin looked away from the bottle, his frown returning. “That’s not the point I was trying to make. I bought the tables at the Jeons’ shop.”

You often saw a passing darkness clouding Hyunjin’s eyes, turning them from molasses on pound cake to ink stains on fancy paper. One wasn’t more beautiful than the other, but one made you worry. You reached for him across the table, putting your hand on his forearm. He flinched, but you squeezed him a little tighter. Gently.

You didn’t let him lie to you. You didn’t want him to have to lie to you. “I had been warned beforehand of the… delicate situation between you and Lord Jungkook. And his mother, too.” Hyunjin shot a frightened stare at you. “I decided not to entertain a rivalry between your late father and Lord Jeon’s also very dead father.”

Hyunjin gulped, eyeing his glass, but remaining still. “Was he there?” he asked, his voice so low that you could barely make out the words. “Jungkook?”

“No, he wasn’t.” You let go of Hyunjin, and he reached for his glass. “His business partner made the transaction with us.”

“That Kim guy?”

“Yes.” You paused, hesitating. “What an arrogant prick.”

This stunned Hyunjin. You watched the clouds lift from his eyes, much like the strong winds clearing the skies after a storm. He had difficulty swallowing the whiskey while he suppressed his laughter.

“I couldn’t have said it better.” A smile looked good on him. Like it belonged there. “I hope you didn’t let him talk down on you.”

“I sure as fuck didn’t, Hyunjin. I don’t think I helped your cause. I don’t think I made you any more popular, not at all.” At this, the both of you laughed together, putting your hands over your mouths to cover the noise.

You drank a little while recovering your breath. This is all you wanted. All your life you had known that you would become Lady Hwang—you hadn’t known it would turn out like this. You hadn’t known that Hyunjin would rather be burned alive than consummate the marriage. You hadn’t known that doubt would be at the back of your mind, day and night, as you wondered what you needed to do to make him love you. You had been foolish, but could you forgive yourself for that?

But this—tonight—wasn’t bad. Expensive whiskey and a chat with your husband.

“I don’t care that they hate me,” Hyunjin said after a while. “It’s not like I ever see them anyway.”

You bit your lip with a sigh. “About that…” Concern grew within you, tugging at your heart. You emptied your glass in one go, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Lord Jeon sent us an invitation for a dinner he is hosting, and I already accepted.”

“You did what?”

You had never been afraid of the dark, whether it was in your bedroom, under your bed, in a closet, or in Hyunjin’s eyes. But what about when his gaze turned to fire? You recoiled, pressing your back against your chair. For a moment, you thought Hyunjin would lash at you, but not like a predator—like a wounded animal, desperate, fighting for survival, knowing its demise was inevitable.

Hyunjin’s voice was trembling, but you couldn’t tell whether it was with fear or rage. Maybe, most likely, it was with an ugly mix of both. “When did we receive this letter? And why did you take it upon yourself to accept the invitation without consulting me?”

You held his gaze. You weren’t used to the scene unfolding in front of you. You had heard men raise their voices for much less than this. You had heard men become upset for petty reasons, but you had never, ever seen so much alarm in one before—certainly not for something as insignificant as a response to a letter.

And yet, all that you could see in Hyunjin was terror.

“Your father hated his and they had a rivalry,” you responded. “It doesn’t mean you have to hate him.”

Hyunjin hit the table with his fist—your glass clinked loudly against the bottle, but you didn’t jump. Not on the outside anyway. You expected him to scold you, to rebuke you, you expected him to strike you. Most men would have.

Yet when he spoke, his voice was slow, faint, like his throat was strained. “It’s not about hate. It was never about hate, darling.”

Most men would not hesitate to strike their wives if they infringed such obvious rules, but Hyunjin didn’t need to. All he had to do was let that word dance on his lips, offering it to you like a dagger to the heart.

You pushed yourself up, pacing on the balcony for a few seconds. Hyunjin’s obstinate stoicism didn’t help. Maybe you had wanted him to fight back, to punish you somehow. Maybe you had wanted a reaction out of him, any reaction, no matter the nature of it. Maybe you wanted him to touch you, even if it meant hurting you with a wrath bigger than himself.

His glass was empty and Hyunjin drank from the bottle instead of filling it again.

“I’m going to bed,” was all he said, and he left with the whiskey.

You stared at the chair he had just vacated, your mind as blank as your heart. You tried enumerating all the reasons why you had decided Hyunjin and you should attend this dinner. You had good reasons and they came from a good place, but you understood why he was hurt.

And of course, you should have consulted him before, but doing so would have resulted in his immediate refusal anyway. He always locked himself away, even when he paced the garden, when he was working, when he was talking to you. He locked his heart away, making sure that nothing could ever reach it.

But at what cost?

And now he was going to stay enraged and lock himself in his bedroom and—

You remembered what was waiting for him in his room. The gift you had gotten him—the actual gift, as if a simple bottle of whiskey could ever repay the gesture behind him buying that apiary for you.

You went after him, bolting out of your room to see if he was still in the hallway, but you didn’t even hear his footsteps. You ran after him, only to find him standing in the frame of his door, bottle of whiskey still in hand, but frozen in place.

“Hyunjin…” You looked past him, inside his room. Seonghwa had left the gift exactly where you had asked him to.

An easel made of copper and imported rosewood. With sketching paper and canvases and paints and brushes and pencils, too.

Hyunjin’s father had never let him draw. There was so much darkness that came from the things his father had done—and the things he did not let Hyunjin be. But it didn’t have to stay this way.

“The whiskey was only part of the gift…” Your voice was small, foreign. You realized you were shy, even embarrassed. Now that you were facing it, you could tell how desperate you looked—how desperate you were. Desperate for him. For anything from him.

When Hyunjin turned to you, his eyes were wet. No tear rolled down his chiseled face, as though the abysses of his eyes were deep enough to hold them in, and maybe they were.

“I apologize,” you uttered, approaching him warily. “I’m sorry about Lord Jeon, and the dinner.” You meant it. You hoped he could see that. “I know you’ve been cultivating all those malignant thoughts inside you, and I fear… I fear they will fester, perhaps, some day. That they will take over your heart. I wanted to help you. I wanted to offer you a chance at something else… anything else.”

He turned back, facing the easel again. Seonghwa had left it in the bedroom but not far from the door leading to Hyunjin’s study, right by the window. During the day, he would have plenty of light to paint or draw.

But Hyunjin did not speak.

“I shouldn’t have done this,” you went on, following him into the room as he went in, but still keeping some distance between you two. “In fact, I will draft another letter to the Jeon family right this instant—I’ll explain that I became very ill, that we won’t be able to make it to the dinner.”

It seemed Hyunjin wasn’t listening to you. He left the whiskey bottle by the small table and reached for the easel, caressing the rosewood as gently as if he had been touching a newborn baby, or perhaps the delicate blossoms of a cherry tree. You could hear his breathing, steady but louder than usual. He felt the bristles of the paint brushes, one by one. He studied the paints too, each color, and looked at the tin box containing the perfectly sharpened pencils. They glide like butter, Bill had told you at the crafts store. He had helped you select the absolute best supplies, sparing no expense to make sure Hyunjin could experience art at least once.

It had been taken away from him at such a young age. Too early to be refusing such simple things to a child, whether it was a piece of chocolate, some pencils and paper, or the right to climb a tree. And maybe this was what had made him the way he was, much more than the number of affairs his father had.

Hyunjin’s voice was barely audible. Small, uncertain. “Is this all for me?” Like he couldn’t believe it. Like he didn’t want to believe it.

“Of course it is, Hyunjin.” You took yet another step toward him, and another, until you were close enough to smell him. “You don’t have to like it. If you don’t want any of it, I’m sure we can bring them to Ha-ri’s little girls, they—”

One second, you were standing behind Hyunjin, facing his back as he studied the items before him. The next, he swirled around and pulled you against him. Your body so close to his. Your body belonged in his embrace, it felt like. He closed his arms around you, enveloping you comfortably, squeezing you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm and it smelled like whiskey.

You wanted to ask him to please kiss you again. You wanted to ask him if he had fucked any pregnant women during his trip.

Hyunjin squeezed you tighter. “I love it.” His voice wouldn’t sound any different if he had been crying. “I want it. I want all of it. I want…” But the rest of his sentence trailed off, and you didn’t push it. Your husband kept you in his arms for a long time and you stayed right there, with your face against his chest, listening to his heart. It was slowing down gently.

Hyunjin didn’t let you see his face as he pulled away and you respected that boundary, instead decided to pick up the whiskey bottle to go and pour two glasses of it. As you busied yourself, you listened to noises in your back—Hyunjin discovering his gifts, his soft breathing, his sharp inhales.

You wondered what your life would have been like if you hadn’t been allowed to raise bees and become a beekeeper. How bitter would that have made you?

When you returned to the study, you found Hyunjin carefully placing a canvas on the easel and adjusting it. “I’ll try some of the paint,” he explained, and it was as if he hadn’t been upset at all just moments ago. “I’ve never actually done this before…”

“Then you should try watercolors,” you advised, pulling the tubes from the pile of paint. “Bill said they’re easier than oil.”

“I’ll just do colors,” Hyunjin went on with an enthusiasm you had never seen in him.

He really did just do colors, and you watched him do so. You watched as Hyunjin carefully mixed the colors, making different shades of blue or orange or red before he applied them on the canvas, blending them with a sponge or with a clean brush. Sometimes, he would stop for a few moments and just stare before returning to his paint, mixing new colors and starting over. The glass of whiskey remained by his side, forgotten.

You watched him paint, you watched the way he held the brushes—awkwardly at first, then, with more confidence. He wouldn’t speak, but sometimes he muttered a few words to himself. You didn’t speak either, you just sat on his bed, watching your husband be himself for, maybe, the first time in his life. Soon enough, three, then four canvases were laid around the room to dry, saturated in bold colors. Gradients and blotches and shapes. Colors. You wondered if, perhaps, Hyunjin was trying to show you the colors of his heart. You wondered if perhaps he was just trying to figure out what exactly were the colors of his heart.

You fought it when you became sleepy, lulled by the whiskey and the newfound comfort of this strange intimacy. Hyunjin and you, in the same room, not speaking a word and yet undeniably… together. As normal people.

You fought sleep until you no longer could. By then, most of the candles had burnt out in the room. But this is what you saw as you fell asleep in Hyunjin’s bed—him, in front of his easel, the light from a wall lamp dancing over him and the art he had wanted to make all his life.

That night, you fell asleep as Lady Hwang. When you woke up the next morning, your husband was laying next to you, on his side, with his back facing you. The room was filled with the soft morning light. Hyunjin was there—close, so close, so warm. He smelled good even though the scent of last night’s whiskey lingered on both of you. You touched his silky soft hair, felt the fabric of his shirt under your fingertips.

Every day, you woke up as the one and only thing you had been allowed to be—you woke up as Lady Hwang.

But today, you woke up as the girl who had fallen in love with Hyunjin through his letters, his delicate cursive, his thoughtful gifts, his words, his thoughts, with the unfiltered version of himself he could be with you. Today, you woke up happy.

Few people would care about this, so you had never told anybody before, but one of your favorite things about beehives was the smell of them. This unique scent that you couldn’t get anywhere else, that, truthfully, couldn’t be compared. A beehive smelled like honey left out in the sun, like melted wax with wood undertones. As you moved the bees and reached deeper within the hive, though, you could also get traces of musk and balm and something overly sweet, like rotting fruit.

And you loved it.

You worked with your bees every day, making sure that they were healthy, making sure that their surroundings were clean and filled with pollen-bearing flowers and plants. You had filled the nearby soil with flowers of all kinds—goldenrod, lavender, primrose, a couple of raspberry bushes and some wild rose bushes as well, along with the usual sage and rosemary. With this, you were certain that your wildflower honey would be full of flavor and as sweet as it could be. You should look into planting a few orange trees for the years to come—their blossoms would round up the honey’s taste.

You loved the smell of a hive and the feeling of the bees buzzing all around you as you worked to harvest the honey and clean the nest. You felt at peace here, like this little corner of the estate was yours and yours only. Like you belonged here, in this place, in that very moment.

The sky was blue and the air was warm already, hinting at yet another hot summer day. Life at the Hwang Estate was not bad at all. You may be yearning for a kiss from your husband, or hoping he drank enough whiskey at night and called you darling, but you had everything else. Ha-ri and her daughters and Changbin, who seemed to shine in his new position on the council.

You had your bees, and you also had Hyunjin’s paintings. “I’ve never done this before,” he would say after showing you his most recent creations. He used to blend colors on canvases at first but he was a bit more adventurous now, drawing more complex shapes and adding light and shade, too. For his very first ‘portrait’, Hyunjin had chosen Cloud as his model.

I’ve never done this before, he said once again when he handed you the painting. It was smaller than the others and he had it framed. A proper gift. You hugged him and he hugged you back that time, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Sometimes at night, when your hand trailed between your legs, you still thought about that moment, and all the other moments. You also thought about all the moments that had never occurred. You often thought about his cock and how it had felt in your hand. Often, also, you dreamt about Hyunjin making love to you.

You almost dropped the large jar that contained today’s honey, startling a few bees and causing them to fly away. You sighed, making sure that none of them had been hurt in the process, and gathered the jar from the ground. Some honey had spilled onto the grass, leaving a puddle. You didn’t like wasting honey, but you decided that perhaps some time later a little creature could use it, especially in this heat.

You heard footsteps to your left and, expecting Ha-ri, spun on your heels to greet her. But it wasn’t Ha-ri, and it also wasn’t Seonghwa or Hyunjin, who, sometimes, liked to sit under the shade of a tree and sketch while you worked with the bees.

“I thought I’d find you here, my lady.”

Lee Minho—the estate’s new doctor. He had been acclimating to his new home easily and he was well-liked among the staff. He was soft-spoken and intelligent, and Hyunjin particularly enjoyed sharing a drink with him and Changbin after work. He was a good addition to this home, you thought. He was friendly and yet, he seemed vigilant, always keeping his guard up. In that way, he reminded you of a cat. For good reason, perhaps, as he seemed particularly fond of Cloud—and Cloud of him.

“Doctor,” you said with a smile, still surprised to see him here this morning. Minho spent several days of the week treating patients in the two clinics in town. “What a splendid day, isn’t it?” You had found over time that making small talk helped ease your nervousness around people, making you seem confident.

“Indeed,” Minho responded with that enigmatic smile of his. He was an attractive man with a lot of kindness under the mysterious veil that he kept around him. He pushed his elegant dark hair from over the round glasses on his nose. “Wow, my lady—that is a good harvest you have there!”

You accepted the compliment with a bashful smile—yet another thing your mother had taught you. “Thank you, Dr. Minho. Would you like to have a taste?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say no to that offer.” Minho made his way to you, a little wary of the bees but eagerly grabbing one of the spoons you had brought with you to test your product. He dipped it in the jar, not wasting a second before he ate his spoonful. “Oh, good god, wow…” Minho, however, took his time to savor it, so you gave him the required space.

Instead, you busied yourself with closing the beehive back, ready to let the hive be for the day. You had gathered a lot of honey and, for the first time with this colony, harvested a small amount of honeycomb. And you knew exactly what you wanted to do with it.

“Thank you my lady,” Minho spoke respectfully, dipping his head. “I was told of your delicious honey, but it’s one thing to taste it on a cake and another to have it just like that.”

You shook your head distractedly, now finished with the hive. The honey was in a jar, and the honeycombs in a large pot. You put everything back on the tray, along with the used spoons and your gloves, but left everything on the table.

You knew that Minho’s unprompted visit to your beehive had a purpose. Yes, he was a nice, pleasant man, but above all else, he was a doctor. Your doctor more specifically.

“Your lord husband will surely have a good hunt today, with that spectacular weather,” Minho went on. “I heard he and Changbin left before sunrise.”

You took a deep breath, readying yourself to face Minho’s inquisitive eyes. When you turned to him, you found him shielding his eyes from the sun, licking the remaining honey off his lips. You liked him. Minho. You knew very little about him—you knew that he had a good reputation. You knew that he liked to go fishing and that he always shared some fish with Cloud when he returned. You also knew that he used to work for the Jeons and that he left of his own volition.

“I know why you’re here, Mr. Lee.” You spoke with your voice low but enunciated every word very clearly, so that he, and only he, could hear you. All around the estate, life went on—windows were open, people walked around, busy at work. “I wish our maids had been more… discreet.”

Minho let his arm fall to the side of his body after adjusting his glasses, offering you an apologetic smile. “Don’t hold it against them, my lady—they only worried for your well-being and came to me immediately.”

A surge of rage enveloped you—but the rage wasn’t alone, there was sadness woven into it, despair, and shame, too. “I fail to see what is so worrying about blood stains on bed sheets, doctor. Women bleed once a month, after all—a doctor ought to know this.”

Minho let the sentence hit him and he took it gracefully. If he were angry, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he leaned against the table, never looking away from you.

This morning you had woken up in Hyunjin’s bed—something that occurred more and more often. Not because your husband had decided he wanted to consummate your marriage, no, but because he seemed to enjoy your company more. He liked to paint a lot, but especially in your presence. Sometimes, he’d say, “join me, will you?” and you would. You didn’t really know how to paint but you’d grab a brush and add a few strokes here and there. The more Hyunjin painted, the better at it he became.

The more Hyunjin painted, the more you loved him.

So you liked to be there as much as you could, to take in the sight of him standing in front of a canvas, brows stitched together as he tried to execute his ideas as well as he could. These days, the rooms would remain warm even after sunset, and Hyunjin often painted in just a thin white shirt and light trousers. He was handsome, and peace looked good on him. You knew that this could only be temporary—you knew that Hwang Hyunjin, the one they called the Orphan, the one they said was cruel, would not allow something as ordinary as painting to make him happy.

Still.

You often fell asleep in his bed because you liked being close to him and the sheets smelled like him. Sometimes, you would wake up so close to him that it was almost as if he loved you back.

This morning, though, the bed had been empty—you knew it would be so because Hyunjin had warned you about today’s hunting trip, and how important it was to him. The dinner at the Jeons was in a few days from now and Hyunjin intended on bringing some game as a part of the gift he would offer to your hosts. You’d of course part with a jar of your precious honey and with some seeds for a garden.

You hadn’t however foreseen your body reminding you that Hyunjin refused to put a baby in you and had woken up in a small puddle of your own blood. In fact, your bleeds had been late, which you had blamed on the stress of moving into a new home, so you weren’t especially surprised. You had taken the sheets off the mattress and had gone to wash them yourself, but the maids had come in and offered their help.

Minho took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. “I heard there was a lot of blood, my lady.”

Ashamed, you turned away, pretending to adjust the contents of the tray. The honey shone under the bright sun, amber, beautiful. “I assure you I am completely healthy, sir,” you managed, clearing your throat. “This is not an abnormal occurrence for me.”

When you looked at Minho again, he was nodding slowly. “You’re tense,” he pointed out. “My lady, let me reassure you—you have nothing to fear from me. I’ve been forbidden by your husband to perform certain… physical examinations on you, unless he gives his consent before, and unless he is present at the time of the examinations.”

This, you also knew—when Dr. Lee had been welcomed to the estate, Hyunjin had assured you that he was a better man than Yun had been, and that he would make sure nobody ever touched you. That nobody found out about your secret, too.

“I am aware,” you retorted, doing your best to remain calm.

Minho barely let you finish your sentence. “I know about the teas you drink, I’ve seen what you put in them. I know they’re not to settle your headaches or upset stomach. I know what boiled thistle does, I know what ginger root and rue oil do. I know why fertile women take those. So, as your doctor, let me ask you—how much blood was there, and are you in pain?”

Once, your mother had caught you stealing cake from the kitchen. You had been fourteen years old at the time and it had been your birthday cake, which you had been forbidden from eating. You had felt so ashamed. Because it had been your mother finding you eating cake, and because she had made sure that everybody in the villa heard her as she scolded you, calling you weak and stupid, calling you worse things even.

Today, under the unyielding sun, standing in front of Minho, you felt just about the same.

You gulped, feeling the familiar and unwanted prick of tears at the corner of your eyes. “I just—I just want—”

“I know what you want and I’m not judging you for it, my lady.” Minho took a step closer to you, but it was to study you. He silently asked for permission to touch you, which you granted with a stiff nod, and he pressed his hands at specific areas of your neck and under your arms. “In fact, your secret is safe with me. The reason you can trust me is because I will also give you a secret of mine in exchange—it was actually the reason I came to visit you in the first place.”

You looked into Minho’s eyes and saw nothing but honesty, except perhaps a few drops of concern.

You knew about some herbs and their uses—you had heard some of it from Sookie and the rest of the information had been absorbed in your many years of eavesdropping all around your family home. Your older sisters, your mother, your cousins. The maids, especially those who really liked boys. So it only felt natural to try and make some of that tea that supposedly stopped a woman’s fertility.

“Well it didn’t work,” you said ultimately with a sigh, deciding that Minho was trustworthy. “I lied earlier. There was more blood than usual.”

Minho nodded, pulling away from you. “Your blood vessels seem alright. However, for the time being, I suggest you stop consuming the teas, my lady. They are not as efficient as you believe. Nothing can fully prevent pregnancy.”

You swallowed your tears and your pride back, averting your eyes, feeling more and more like a little girl being scolded by her mother, despite Minho’s gentle voice. “It doesn’t hurt though, doctor. It did this morning, but not anymore.”

“Then you will be alright,” Minho assured. “But… should you have been pregnant, this could have been a miscarriage—a bad one at that. Please keep that in mind, my lady.”

“No more teas,” you offered as a promise, your voice weak and small.

“I don’t like that you will be away and that I won’t be able to check up on you tomorrow,” Minho admitted. “I don’t know who Lord Jeon hired to replace me, but whoever it is, do not hesitate to seek help if you feel sudden cramps, or if you bleed too much, my lady. Understood?”

“Understood.” You played nervously with the fabric of your sleeves. “Thank you, doctor. And, huh—please—”

Minho chuckled, waving his hand. “I will certainly not tell Lord Hwang about this. I meant it—a secret for a secret.” With this, Minho produced an envelope from his pocket. “I am kindly asking you if you could give this letter—secretly—to somebody at the Jeons’.”

You took the envelope in your hand, seeing no problem in executing that task. “Of course, doctor.” There was a name on the envelope. “Su-jin?”

“I couldn’t give him proper goodbyes,” Minho explained, his voice suddenly strangled, shoulders tensed. “Although it isn’t enough, I hope this… I hope this can be something like that. A goodbye.”

You nodded slowly, carefully hiding the envelope under the pot on the tray. “Was he a close friend, sir?”

Something in Minho’s eyes revealed plenty about this small envelope and its precious contents. “He and I were very close. Too close,” Minho explained. “Some people… took advantage of that. It ended badly. I chose to leave so that Su-jin could be free and happy.”

Minho had said he and I were very close but you heard the truth laced in between his words. You felt love in his voice. Love, and pain, too. Not that the former could ever exist without the latter, though.

“I see.” You pressed your hand on your chest. “I promise I will deliver this letter discreetly and quietly. I won’t even tell Hyunjin about this.”

“I appreciate it.” Minho smiled at you and, without asking, took the tray from you. “Let me at least bring this inside for you.” He obviously wanted to change the subject so you allowed it. “I must admit, my lady, that I took the liberty to ask the chef if he could prepare red meat and some green vegetables for you. To prevent anemia. But I just said you were craving them.”

“Oh.” You covered your mouth, giggling. “Thank you, sir.” You followed Minho as he took the tray and walked around the manor, circling it to make it back to the front door. The air smelled like flowers and like freshly cut grass. “Did they say… anything else? The maids, I mean. Those who saw the blood on the sheets.”

Minho was walking slowly, much slower than you had seen him before—definitely because he didn’t want to exhaust you. You felt fine, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “Yes, but not to me. I heard them speculate over how soon you would be with child.”

A dagger to the heart would have been quicker and painless compared to this. You did not like the taste of shame on your tongue. “I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

“My lady, if you truly do not want to become pregnant—”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, doctor. Thank you. The teas were a mistake—perhaps I drank too much of it, too often. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll handle the rest.” It would be very easy to handle as you would never become pregnant.

You had hoped—foolishly—that if you managed to stop your monthly bleeds, Hyunjin would find you desirable the way he found pregnant women desirable. At this point, you were desperate enough that you thought a simple kiss would be enough to set you on fire. You had thought it was hard when he was cold and distant with you but it had turned out to be the opposite—spending so much time with him only made you yearn for him more. Some days, you found yourself inhaling your own hair—the scent of Hyunjin’s bed lingered on it.

“I apologize for this, my lady. I understand.” But you had made it to the front door, so Minho naturally switched the topic of conversation to the beehive and how he couldn’t believe how much honey you had gotten that morning.

He left you by the kitchen, thanking you again for the envelope you had taken from him—you took this so seriously that you immediately went upstairs to your room to hide it under your pillow. Feeling the paper on your fingertips made you nostalgic.

For years—your whole life up until just a few months ago—you only had that to keep you going. Letters. One every year, no more. You still had them, keeping them in a small wooden box. Hyunjin would write about everything, about nothing. For all these years, you had wondered this: how could he feel so close to your heart, yet so far away? And for all these years, you had believed this would be resolved by you finally becoming his wife and moving under his roof. Naturally, you had been wrong. You had been wrong about so many things.

The morning of the dinner at Lord Jeon’s, Seonghwa came to wake you instead of Ahnjong. You found it strange but appreciated the steward’s gentle voice. That morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang, but you felt empty.

“Where’s Ahnjong?” you asked, wishing with all of your soul that you could stay in bed all day. You were tired. “Is she alright?”

“She’s with Ha-ri, my lady,” Seonghwa explained. “They’re packing a few evening gowns for you. Lord Hwang is already up—would you like to have a bath before leaving?”

“Ah, the gowns. Of course.” You smiled fondly into your pillow. “Yes, Seonghwa. I’ll have a bath.”

“Would you like to use the tub in Lord Hwang’s room? I know you prefer it. Lord Hyunjin is downstairs with Mr. Changbin, finishing up some things for work. The room is all yours.”

You accepted Seonghwa’s offer as it was a quite widely known fact that Hyunjin’s bathroom was far better than yours. He bowed swiftly and left the room to prepare your bath and you were happy to find your bed sheets had absolutely no blood on them. The ache in your lower abdomen had completely disappeared too. This was, by far, the worst menstruation you had ever experienced. As if the burden of being a woman in itself wasn’t enough…

You wrapped yourself in your favorite robe and exited your room. From the hallway, you could hear voices downstairs—mostly Hyunjin and Changbin though, apparently giving directions for the factory while they would be away since Changbin would make the trip with you and Hyunjin.

Seonghwa had left a maid to take care of your bath. You recognized one of the young girls who had seen your blood on the sheets the other day but did your best to remain kind and friendly to her. Someday, when you’d have more time, you would teach her about the hardships of a woman, and how she might want to consider facing certain situations in the future. She was young and you didn’t hold it against her. If anything, you envied her. You missed the times when you were ignorant. You hadn’t been allowed to be that for very long, though.

Still, you asked her to leave you alone for the bath. You’d be able to wash your hair on your own and you preferred to soak in the warm water for a long time. The room smelled like Hyunjin, like his cologne, and was still steamy from his own bath. You tried not to think about that too much, about his lean body submerged in water, about his dark hair floating around his porcelain face, about his hand between his legs…

You splashed water on your face and scrubbed yourself clean, still sleepy. You would need strong tea to keep you awake, but you figured you might be able to nap quickly on the way to the Jeons’.

You had rinsed out your hair and were applying oils into it to make it shine when you heard footsteps outside the bathroom. “Seonghwa? Anhjong?”

The footsteps froze. “It’s me.” Hyunjin. “I came to shave and get dressed—I’ll—I’ll come back later,” he added, stammering. Hyunjin seemed to dislike the idea of you naked, almost as if his cock could escape his pants and accidentally fall into your cunt, impregnating you on the spot.

“Don’t, I’m done here, I’ll be out in a second.” This was his room after all.

“We’re leaving in about an hour,” Hyunjin said from the other side of the door. “Are you… feeling alright?”

You left the bathtub as the water was turning lukewarm rather quickly, beginning to dry your skin with the linen sheets provided by the maids. They smelled like the same rose water they soaked your clothes into after washing them. “I’m alright, Hyunjin.” You were suspecting that despite Minho’s absolute silence over it, Hyunjin had heard bits and pieces about the blood on the sheets. If you did trust the doctor, you didn’t always trust the maids to stay quiet. “Just need a minute here.”

“Take your time…” Hyunjin said, but he didn’t quite finish his sentence, letting it trail off instead.

You did your best to wring your hair dry but that was usually something you let the maids do, as your mother had always taught you. Be delicate with your hair, she’d always say. She had been terrified that you’d damage it, especially when you spent time outside in the winter. But you had always liked winter and its eerie silence.

Once you were as dry as you could get in the span of a few minutes, you quickly put on the loose, cream-colored gown that had been left for you. You hadn’t expected company so there wasn’t much here to cover you, however there were a couple of Hyunjin’s shirts hung on the wall, and you picked the blue one.

Your husband was facing the window when you exited the bathroom, his hands behind his back as he stared outside. The view from here wasn’t as nice as the one in your room, but one could see part of the garden here, and the lush pine forest around the estate.

Hyunjin didn’t turn when he heard you. “How was your bath?” he asked. Without letting you answer his question, he went on, “Don’t worry. I’ll have the tub and plumbing of your bedroom upgraded as soon as we’re back from our trip.”

Words could sometimes appear kind in appearance and yet they felt like blades. This was one of those times. “I did not think it bothered you that I used your tub, Hyunjin. I wish you'd told me.”

He did turn to you then, concern written all over his handsome face. “No! No—I just—I should—” He sighed, exhaling a long, tired breath. “I simply meant that I should have provided you with better installations already.”

You gulped, swallowing your pride at the same time. “I like your lavatory,” you admitted, taking a few steps toward him. He stood tall next to the window, his gaze following you, his gaze working very hard not to dip anywhere below your neck. You weren’t wearing anything besides that linen and his shirt, and he must have noticed. “I like your bedroom, too. It doesn’t mean I don’t like mine.” You hesitated, almost reaching for his face to feel the light stubble around his mouth. “I like your company as well, Hyunjin.”

He flinched, turning away, not even pretending to busy himself with something else, simply walking away from you. “I like your company too,” he managed from the other side of the room. Then, tentatively, he repeated, “We’re leaving in about an hour.”

“It takes me twenty minutes to get dressed,” you said. You wanted to smile but the muscles in your face were frozen. All your life you had known that you would become Lady Hwang, but you had been wrong about what it would cost you. You had never imagined that he would turn you into such a desperate, touch-starved fool. “Let me help you get ready, will you?”

Hyunjin glanced at the still unpacked clothes, neatly folded on his dresser. Normally, you left today for the Jeons’ and would return early tomorrow morning after spending the night in a hotel, since Lord Jungkook lived near the city and Hyunjin adamantly refused to sleep in his mansion. Still, to be safe, you would pack enough essentials for a couple of days should the weather leave you stranded away from home.

“I’d like that very much, thank you,” Hyunjin admitted, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I’ll just be… over here.” He motioned toward the bathroom you had just left.

It really only took you a couple of minutes to put everything in Hyunjin’s travel bag—pants and underpants and shirts, but you felt like something was missing. Making sure he wasn’t paying too much attention to you, you decided to take a look in his drawer, as you wanted to see if that was where he kept his hair comb—you hadn’t seen it in the bathroom earlier. You did see the comb but you also noticed something else.

Sheets of paper, envelopes. Some blank, some had words on them. Some had Hyunjin’s handwriting scribbled all over them.

Some had yours.

You gasped, recognizing the letters you had sent him over the years. All of them, seemingly. The older ones were damaged and your handwriting was messy, childish. And yet you saw yourself writing them, sitting at a desk too big for you, putting so much effort in every single word so that Hyunjin thought your handwriting was neat. You would write drafts upon drafts of the same letter, practicing diligently until everything was perfect.

For some reason, you hadn’t imagined that Hyunjin kept those. It didn’t feel quite real despite holding them in your hands and feeling the smooth paper under your touch. You skimmed through a few of them, only catching bits and pieces of each.

My sister came to pester me today, Hyunjin. I was just working at my apiary and she must have been bored. She made fun of me… I do not hate her. I do not resent her. I know she is impressionable, friable, and I know her mind has been poisoned by my mother. Today, she called my apiary stupid, and other worse things. I asked her to leave and she did not. I tried not to listen to her but I wanted to cry. Do you think crying is an act of weakness? I cried once during a big, big dinner. There were so many strangers, Hyunjin, and I was only a little girl. They all looked at me and they would all ask questions to my parents about me… about you, too. You really are famous, do you know that? Anyway… What happened with my sister is that a bee stung her and she accused me of doing it on purpose. She seemed to believe I controlled the bees. As if… Did you know, Hyunjin, that bees die after they sting? I would not want a bee to waste its life on my sister.

Hyunjin! I loved the gift you sent me on my birthday. I have never played with marbles before as I was not allowed to. Sometimes, I would sneak out of my dancing lesson and go watch my brother and his friends play, but I could never figure out the rules of the game. Perhaps there are many games and I simply confused them all. But since you sent me marbles, Mother says it’s alright, but I am still not allowed to sit or kneel on the ground as the boys can. I see them come home sometimes, covered in mud and dirt with big smiles. It makes me wish sometimes that I had been born a boy, too. Do you like to play in the mud too, Hyunjin? Do you think that when we grow up and get married, you will teach me how to play the marbles game? Other games?

This the second to last letter I will write you, assuming I will no longer need to write you letters once we are husband and wife. In a little over a year, I will travel the long journey to you… I hope you are not too discouraged about it. The reason I am mentioning this is very simple, Hyunjin. We are friends, are we not? So I want you to truly think about it. Should you cancel the marriage, I will not resent you. I know I am not the wife you ought to have been promised, and I know I have my father to blame for this, as he once convinced your father that I would be the best thing to happen to you. You do not need to say anything. You are my friend, Hyunjin, and I only want you to be happy. I lay in bed at night wondering if that is something I will do for you. Make you happy. There are days I wonder what it even means, happiness. I don’t recall the last time I was truly happy, but the closest I get to it is with my bees. What about you, Hyunjin? Are you happy? I hope you are. And I hope that if you choose to marry me, I can at least not make you unhappy. Please, promise me that we will still be friends, married or not.

I kept reading the last letter you sent me, do you remember it? In it, you told me so much about fabrics and textiles. From this day I haven’t looked at my dresses the same. I never realized all the work that was put into fabrics. I have been trying to find some knowledge to give back to you, something that you will carry with you the way I carry with me what you told me.

Here is what the beekeeper told me, though. He said that when honey is pure, it will burn. He said that only very pure honey actually burns, and polluted honey melts into nothing, like sugar in tea. He also said this would be a lesson for me later, but I’m not sure what he meant exactly. I tried though. I tried burning honey. It smelled sweet and warm. I poured it on my skin and it burned me but I liked it. Does that mean something, Hyunjin? Do you think that people can be pure, too, or do we all have darkness inside us, making us melt into nothing?

There was a lump in your throat when you decided to stop rummaging through the letters. Reading them all in the wrong order might not have been the best idea either. You realized that you had not kept the drafts of your letters—after the envelope was sealed, you would bring the letters to be burned into the furnace immediately. You knew you ought to do that or else you would drive yourself crazy, reading them over and over, finding reasons for Hyunjin to despise you.

You put the letters back, your vision suddenly blurred by tears. Promise me that we will still be friends, married or not. You wiped your face, finding something else in the drawer. You recognized the delicate ribbon that had adorned your wedding dress. You barely remembered that night and yet you remembered a little too painfully. There had been blood on the sheets that night too, but it had been Hyunjin’s. He had undone this ribbon from your dress so gently that you had almost fallen on your knees. In your life, you hadn’t known a lot of happiness, but you had known Hyunjin’s touch—a little of it, at least—and it would have to be enough.

“Damn it!” You heard Hyunjin’s groan echoing from the lavatory, so you quickly pushed the drawer closed and made sure your face was dry when you went to check on him.

“Is everything alright, Hyunjin?”

He looked at you from the reflection in the mirror. There was a small, red dot on his chin where he had cut himself. “Just a cut,” he said pointlessly. “Don’t worry.”

You knew that, technically, Hyunjin wasn’t used to shaving his own face. It was the sort of thing that Seonghwa would do for him, and yet, today out of all days, Hyunjin had chosen not to call anybody. You were not like your sister—you hadn’t allowed your position or your mother to make you dense, and you read the situation quite quickly. Hyunjin wanted to be with you, and with you alone. He was nervous about tonight, about facing Lord Jeon.

“Let me.” You didn’t wait for an answer and made your way to him, taking the straight razor from his hand. The blade was heavy, sharp, beautiful. The handle was gold-plated and had elegant carvings on it.

Hyunjin stared at you, still through the mirror, puzzled. “But—”

“I’ve learned how to shave a man’s face,” you told him, “and other things, too. Will you please fetch a chair?”

Hyunjin’s lips moved silently as he repeated your words under his breath, looking as if he hadn’t understood you. Still, after a few seconds, he walked away and returned with one of the chairs in his bedroom.

“Sit down, please,” you invited him, cleaning the blade in the shaving mug and preparing the brush and the soap. You retrieved a clean, hot towel and applied it on Hyunjin’s face once he had taken a seat. “You didn’t argue,” you pointed out. “Do you really trust me with this?”

You couldn’t see Hyunjin’s mouth under the towel, but you saw his smile lighting up his eyes. “Are you going to cut my throat?”

“I’ll try not to,” you retorted in the same playful tone. “Don’t move.”

You removed the towel and got to work, but your heart was beating painfully fast in your chest. The last time you had been this close to Hyunjin’s face, he had kissed you. And then he had fucked your hand. He smelled good. He smelled like his cologne and like the shaving soap you were lathering onto his face with the bristle of his brush. His lips were shut tight, but they sometimes quivered when you pressed your fingers on his neck to angle his head to suit your needs.

It became easier after a few seconds when Hyunjin closed his eyes. You watched him then, really taking in the sight of him, the black hair, the cheekbones, the lips. The man that he was and the things he made you feel. The warmth in your chest was the same as the warmth between your legs. You just needed to focus on the shaving part of the moment and not on what you wanted to happen—all that you wanted to do was to straddle Hyunjin and feel him between your thighs. All that you wanted was for him to press his pretty lips against your mouth and kiss you until he bruised you.

But instead, you pressed the blade against his cheek, stretching his smooth skin skillfully. “Ready?” you asked him, making your voice soft.

Hyunjin gave you the smallest of nods, barely moving, humming in approval. “We leave in an hour,” he muttered.

You took a deep breath and, finally, swiped the blade on Hyunjin’s skin. He inhaled as you went, tensing up, but exhaled when you pulled away without having cut his face open. His breath smelled like the lemon and mint water he liked to have in the mornings. He even giggled, his cheeks turning pink under the bubbles. “You’re good,” he complimented. “Good flick of the wrist, steady, smooth.”

“I probably have more practice than you do,” you pointed out, biting your lip to swallow your laughter.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow but waited until you had repeated the process farther up, shaving the left side of his face first, to respond. “Did your mother make you learn that?” he asked.

“Yes.” You hesitated, looking at the mirror as if it held any answers. But all you saw was you towering over your husband with a blade in your hand, his face so close to yours and yet so far away. “She taught me that good wives shave their husbands and themselves, too. You know. Everywhere.”

Hyunjin frowned, his eyes opening up. He couldn’t move as you had kept on shaving him, now holding him by his chin, pressing the top of his head against your stomach. He stared at you from below, his gaze lingering on your breasts and not shying away from it. You let him. You pretended you weren’t seeing that and focused solely on the shaving. “Don’t look so shocked, my lord. I bet you’ve seen many more pussies than I have, and I can’t be the only woman in this country shaving mine.”

It was physically impossible for Hyunjin to fall down this chair, yet his reaction almost caused it to happen regardless. As if he jerked awake from a bad dream, he straightened up in the chair, giving you half a second to pull the blade away from his face, avoiding cutting him there. In the process, however, his long arm flew by it and he hit the razor with his hand on accident.

He sat straight in the chair, somehow both pale and his cheeks flushed dark. You circled him, bending down to pick up the razor that had fallen by his side. Doing so let you catch a glimpse of his hand—there was a small cut on his thumb where the blade had met his skin.

“Oh—” Quickly, you slammed the razor on the counter and took his hand in yours. A few drops of blood landed on your gown. The flow was continuous despite the small size of the cut. “I’m sorry, I’m—” You squeezed his hand into yours, trying to stop the bleeding.

Hyunjin took a deep breath. And another. He was staring at you, the veil of darkness you had known in him returned to cloud his gaze.

Some people called your husband frightening and you understood why. But you refused to let fear take control over you. His blood was warm and sticky in your palm, reminding you of his seed coating your skin.

When he spoke, it was in a low voice, enunciating every word very slowly. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what?” You pressed harder onto the cut, afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop the blood from dripping out. Or maybe it was because you liked the feeling of his skin against yours too much. “It was just… humor. Aren’t we friends? Can’t I use the word pussy in front of my husband?”

In that moment, you realized that despite having exchanged letters for all these years with Hyunjin, you didn’t understand him. You understood all the parts of him, though—his fears, his pride, the sadness in his eyes when he looked at the magnolia tree in his garden. You understood his yearning for painting and drawing and why he enjoyed hunting, too. You understood why he was so gentle with Changbin and Ha-ri’s little girls, and why he often asked Lord Christopher for counsel. Hell—it hurt you to think about it, but you understood why Hyunjin kept his heart away from yours. But today, you were realizing that you couldn’t understand the big picture, but that you weren’t to blame. Hyunjin simply would not let you past a certain point. This—whatever this was—was all you’d ever get.

So you did understand that, at least—that you weren’t supposed to try crossing that line.

His silence was deafening. “Hyunjin?” you muttered, releasing your grip on his hand. It fell on his knee, limp, almost as if he were dead, but he was still bleeding, and he was pressing his thighs together.

Instinctively, you brought your hand to your lips, delicately cleaning the blood away with your tongue. You were not afraid nor disgusted by blood, your own or someone else’s, and Hyunjin’s blood tasted like metal, like salt. If this was the only way you could have him, then you would shave him every day in case he got a cut, and keep drinking his blood for the rest of your life.

Hyunjin took a deep breath, obviously trying to stay calm. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, and you watched as his gaze flicked between your face, your lips, your collarbone. In the heat of the moment, the shirt you were wearing over the gown had fallen down a little. “I’m sorry, darling.”

Darling. Your heart raced faster than your brain at that, but you couldn’t keep your thoughts encaged either. He had said it, he had said the word. To you. And he wasn’t even drunk.

You lowered your gaze to check on the cut—it seemed like it had mostly stopped bleeding by now. “Don’t apologize,” you retorted, finding it easier to stare at an injury on your husband than into his molasses eyes, much like you had on your wedding night. How much blood would he spill because of you?

You got up, deciding that you ought to finish shaving him instead of lingering in this lavatory, ashamed and hurt. You restarted the process—the blade, the shaving soap. Hyunjin let his head fall back, allowing you to reprise the shaving.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” he whispered, his jaw dancing under the blade as you were shaving him. You liked the sound of that, of the razor gliding over his skin. You liked feeling him close, too. “I know you’re not doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what?”

To this, Hyunjin said nothing. You thought you were used to it, to his silences. Sometimes you would be watching him paint and ask him a question, but he wouldn’t respond right away. Sometimes, you’d get the answer two days later, out of the blue. That yellow in the sunset was a little strange but it reminded me of the marigolds in the garden, so I kept it.

You pressed the razor on his skin, holding his head in place, and scraped the blade across with precision. You had always enjoyed the shaving practices, perhaps more than the dance lessons or mandatory needlework. Maybe because they were also a test of your composure. After all, you had to resist cutting men’s throats open.

“I won’t do it again, Hyunjin, I promise,” you whispered, close to his ear. “Crude humor, I mean.”

He gripped at his pants as if he were afraid to fall down. “No… It was funny. Really, it was. I just…”

At that exact moment, you noticed his tented pants, bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. You felt a chill on your spine, cold at first, and then warm. The warmth spread to your core and between your legs.

But you shaved him.

“It was unexpected, wasn’t it?” you chose to say to at least have the grace of finishing his sentence instead of letting him make a fool of himself. Your voice was a little unsteady and you cleared your throat, ignoring the way Hyunjin’s gaze caressed you. Because you felt it. You felt his eyes on you and they were like kisses. You felt his warmth, for fuck’s sake you even felt his hardening cock from here…

“Unexpected, yes.” Hyunjin cleared his throat too. “Are you almost done?”

You pretended you didn’t see him adjust his cock through his pants. “Almost. Don’t worry, I know we are leaving soon.”

There were so many things you wanted to ask him, right here, right now. Why are you hard, Hyunjin? Is it because of the joke I made? Are you not used to girls making jokes like that? Because we, girls, jest like that all the time when it’s only us. Do you like that? Do you like it when I talk about pussy? Do you wish you were seeing mine? Do you wish I lifted my skirt to show it to you? Is that why your cock is hard, Hyunjin?

But—of course—you said nothing at all.

When you were done shaving him, you rinsed the razor and quickly came with a wet towel to also wipe Hyunjin’s face. He was still there, unmoving in his chair, tense. You could swear you saw his neck pulse to the rhythm of his heart.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin managed. When you went to pull away from him, he didn’t let you—he cupped your face in his big, warm hand. He was sweating a little. When he touched you, you felt it in your cunt. “We have to talk about something, darling. Will you listen to me?”

Darling. You nodded, unable to speak. Hyunjin pulled you even closer—so close that you felt his warm breath on your face.

“I know about the teas you drink. And don’t resent Dr. Lee for that,” he quickly added when you opened your mouth in protest, “I didn’t hear it from him first. It’s a smaller estate than you think, and the maids like to talk.”

“I—I just—” you stammered, face burning with shame.

Hyunjin clicked his tongue softly, his eyes lingering on your lips. “I know why you were drinking them, but please don’t poison yourself on my account. I’m not worth it.”

“But—”

Hyunjin cut you off. “No buts. I don’t like doing this, but do listen to me now—as your husband, I forbid you to drink those teas, or to take any medicine for… that purpose. You will only harm yourself, and I won’t allow that.”

Hyunjin said that and yet, what you heard was: you can kill your womb, shove any poison you want directly into your cunt, I will never fuck you.

He was still staring at your lips, and you at his. You tried pulling away again, not that you didn’t like the proximity, but because you were feeling a tingle between your legs, and you were afraid to start a fire that couldn’t be put out. Hyunjin let go of you, his arm falling to the side. He was slumping on the chair. He seemed more tired than after a long day of meetings and work.

In the life you had imagined, Hyunjin loved you the way you loved him. If he had found himself needing you, he would have fucked you, quickly, efficiently, deep thrusts. Taking you from behind perhaps, slamming you onto him. You used to think about that sometimes, even before you married him. You still thought about it now that you were his wife, but you were older now, and having him so close yet so far was nothing short of torture. You were tired, disappointed, miserable. Entire nights were spent, covered in sweat, rubbing yourself onto pillows or your hands, cumming and thinking of him while you came.

In the life you had imagined, today Hyunjin would push himself up to kiss you, to devour your mouth, leaving your lips swollen. He’d hitch up your skirt to feel your cunt and groan into your mouth at the discovery of wetness there. He would turn you around, pressing your face against the wall, he would pull out his hard cock from his pants and bury himself into you, stretching you. In the life you had imagined, Hyunjin would fuck you against the wall, rutting like an animal, seeking his release, finding solace into your pussy. He’d call you darling, he’d pull your hair, he’d kiss your shoulder. He would fuck you and you would cling to him as he came. Would you feel it? Would you feel his cum filling you? You liked to imagine that you could, somehow.

But this was not the life that you imagined. Hyunjin did none of that, or almost. He did push himself up, and he did pull you against him. He held you like that, close, close enough that you felt his erection pressing on your lower stomach. He wrapped you in his arms and you listened to his heartbeat.

You held Hyunjin tighter, but he used his hand to lift your face up to him, pressing his thumb under your chin.

“My beekeeper,” he whispered, his breath tickling your skin. “You know I only want you to be happy, right? I’ll never let my shame stain you.”

Your throat was tight as tears welled up in your eyes. You scanned his perfect face, touching it, his soft cheek, his soft hair. You drew invisible lines around his plush lips. “I love you, Hyunjin. I’m a fool for this, but I love you, I really do.”

You didn’t think Hyunjin would have looked any different if you had gutted him alive. Lips trembling, he stayed there, holding you, his eyes in yours.

“We leave in about an hour,” was all he said.

He let go of you and you missed his embrace immediately. Hyunjin left the room, neither quickly nor unhurriedly. He left the room as though nothing had happened, as though you hadn’t stuck a dagger into your own chest and cut it open, baring yourself to him by speaking three little words.

What happened next scared you—you waited a few instants and quickly put back the razor and soap in a drawer. You left Hyunjin’s bedroom to get into yours, cleaning yourself up quickly, summoning Ahnjong so that she could help you dress. You made conversation with her as she was lacing your corset. You chose a pretty gown for the road, a comfortable one. Later, you found Cloud in Minho’s office and saluted the doctor after giving your cat a little kiss on the top of her head.

Ha-ri was downstairs to see his husband off, but she did hug you. You got into the carriage first, followed by Changbin, and then Hyunjin came last. Half of his hair was held by a white ribbon. He wore a linen shirt and black trousers. He looked just like he had the first time you had met him. Handsome, more beautiful than a prince or a princess, even. He did not look at you. He spoke to Changbin a little, but then Changbin dozed off.

It scared you because you felt numb. It scared you because you wished you could cry about it, or perhaps even scream. You wished Hyunjin would hold you in his arms. He didn’t have to fuck you if he didn’t want to, but you liked being in his arms.

Was this it? Was that what it meant to become better at being Lady Hwang? To become numb, desensitized, to have cried all of the tears you had to cry?

The trip to Lord Jungkook’s domain took exactly two hours and forty-three minutes—you knew that because you monitored the time on Changbin’s watch. For two hours and forty-three minutes, Hyunjin did not speak to you. The silence was heavy despite Changbin’s attempt at diffusing the situation. But you looked through the small window, watching the scenery change, watching the towns as you passed them. By the time you passed the gates to Jeon Domain, you thought you had it all figured out.

Some people, you figured, had holes in them, and Hyunjin was like that. It wasn’t even his fault. His light leaked from him, and you were no better than a moth. It also meant that no matter how much love you would pour into him, it would leak, too. In the end, Hyunjin would be empty, and so would you.

But what scared you even more than being numb was how, due to being nervous, you almost tripped as you climbed down the carriage. There was a rather large amount of people to welcome you, all waiting by the large entrance doors. The Jeons’ mansion was huge and very high, and it made you dizzy to look at it and its dark bricks as you exited the carriage.

But Hyunjin caught you just in time as a man who could only be Lord Jungkook approached you. You didn’t even notice him. Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you. You wished you were numb to that, too. You wished that your heart didn’t jump for the shipwreck that your husband was. “I got you,” he said, in your ear, just for you. “Hold on to me. You’re okay, darling.”

Some people, you figured, had holes in them, but you weren’t like that. In fact, it was quite the opposite—there was love piling up endlessly within you, filling every corner of your soul. It had nowhere to go. It just stayed there. Some day, you would crumble under the weight of it. And that, maybe, scared you more than anything else. It was then and only then that you understood what the old beekeeper had tried telling you all those years ago, because you could feel your pure heart as it burned, burned, burned.

... to be continued.

a/n: WOAH.... long time no see for Lord Hwang, right? I'm sorry about the terrible wc and lack of general action in this chapter. I had everything planned but I simply could not write it in less words than this, trust me, I tried. I was so excited to bring you all to Lord Jungkook's home!! So so sorry about this. Thank you for your patience, for waiting for this update, for your support. It means a lot to me, truly.

permanent taglist: @cb97percent @changbinluvr @neosracha @hwan-g @streetlight-s @j-0ne25 @leedunno @aimeexx @hyunskizz @lotus-dly @thestarseeker @suhomylife @abiaswreck @chanlovesme @skzho @binstitsweat @hyunjinswifeee @straydhampir @fwess @skizzel-reblogs @katsukis1wife @chans1aptop @sunlitwilderness @erispancakes @skzfelixlove @hyunsungbased @revehosh @casualtaelyn @yourhwngness @hynjnskz @hyuneyeon

#the tension hehehe sign me up ^^#taste of honey #stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #smut #straywrds

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