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savior complex (pt. 1) | bang chan

summary: Your father had wielded you to become a machine; a weapon. And a machine you would become. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat. He taught you how to protect; specifically how to protect your family. But he never taught you how to survive with other groups, especially when their leader seems to have it out for you.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | strangers/enemies to lovers + zombie apocalypse au, angst, fluff, smut word count: 19.9K chapter summary: you'd always known the end, and it had always known you. you just didn't know the beginning would be waiting for you when your time finally came. warnings/notes: zombie apocalypse au so . . . blood, guts, gore, sad, sad, sad. beware. lots of inspo from every zombie thing i've literally ever seen (twd, tlou, train to busan, etc.), typos probably, parental death, actions of violence and murder, religious TRAUMA, religious undertones, reader does not believe in god but she's deeply influence by it bc of her childhood and it haunts her, reader comes from a small toen and it's not explicitly stated where she's from but hollows are mentioned, hunting, reader wishes for death multiple times, chan goes by chris, no smut in this chapter but there will be in every chapter after, i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything, and enjoy! <3

chapter one: i know the end (and it knows me) ( series masterlist | next → )

Sometimes you felt like a ghost. It happened when the world was so silent that you could almost hear the beat of your unsteady heart pounding in your chest; when everyone else was asleep and you stayed up, eyes watchful and searching for threats. That was when you felt like the lost faces that haunted you.

It hadn't always been this way, at least not until the world ended. Most of the time you tried not to think about it. You tried not to think about much except survival these days.

Because that was smart. Surviving was smart. Anything else was stupid; anything else would get you killed.

Ironic, how you used to fear that very thing. Death. Now it was all you knew.

The apocalypse had come.

You knew how it sounded. Honestly, you didn't believe it when it first happened. You had been too afraid to admit it; too scared that if you did, you could never go back. There was no going back anyway. That was something you wished you had known back then. And as you sat on a log in the middle of those dark woods, overlooking your group who all slept silently while you stayed up, bloody knife in hand, and eyes watching for threats, it was hard to ignore the fact that this was your cruel reality.

Because the reality of it all was: you were living on borrowed time, trying your best to do right by your father and keep your family alive. You'd faltered that night, dotting the line between protection and predation.

And now . . . now you couldn't help but think about the beginning. How you would've never ended up like this if things had been different. But things hadn't been different. Things had happened exactly the way they had, and it'd left you with rot in your bloodstream and hate in your heart.

That was what made you clutch the knife closer, nearly cutting your own flesh. Because things hadn’t been different, but they also hadn’t always been this way. You hadn’t always been like . . . this.

You supposed it was because it was easy to kneel when you were just a girl. It was easy to ignore the ever-present scabs on your knees when you didn’t know any better. It was easy to tear yourself down the middle, pulling stitches from the back of your legs when you knew it’d all be re-sewn by morning. It was easy back then when the world hadn’t died.

From the moment you were brought into the world, barely kicking and silently screaming like it was a sin to voice your pain, you had been taught to be that girl; that easy, complacent girl with not so much as a rotten thought. From the moment you were born, you had been taught the foundation of the Church and its vocation, and it had carved its way into your rotten flesh even when the world was no more.

At age four, you were in the pews, listening to the words of God while creating imaginary friends in the statues. At age seven, communion. Then at age eight, you had begun to become an altar girl, fetching and carrying, ringing the altar bell, bringing up the gifts and the book, among other things—essentially being a servant to God. At age fourteen, confirmation. At fifteen, your mother doused you in holy water before your first date with a boy from school. Sixteen, heartbreak, praying to God and begging for him to help ease it all, only to be left with no response . . . even after all you had done for him.

Seventeen and the stitches down your legs remained undone, the scriptures now more of a question than a statement. Then . . . eighteen, the timer clicked into place, and you felt yourself begin to rot along with the world, forcing you to realize your entire life was just a cycle of kneeling before God, praying, and asking for forgiveness for your sins.

It had been easy to kneel when you were just a girl; when you didn’t know any better. And then it happened.

It.

Armageddon.

The Rapture.

The fucking apocalypse.

It didn’t matter what you called it. Doomsday was still doomsday even dressed up with fancy scriptures and sacred wine.

The apocalypse had come. Humans were deemed horrible creatures by some almighty who you didn't give a fuck to acknowledge. It didn't matter. Someone or something had deemed the human race unworthy.

The apocalypse had come, and you were deemed worthless. You were made to die. It was inevitable.

The apocalypse had come. There was talk that it had begun in the North. But much wasn’t known in your town. Now you realized they tried to keep it a secret. It was a way of controlling everyone, you supposed, but not like it mattered much now.

That was just how things were. Your mother refused to let you and your younger sister watch the news, refused to let you search anything about what was going on in the world, adamant that everything was lies and those lies would cloud your mind. A religious town bordering on a commune that resembled a cult perhaps just a tad too much. You realized all this now, of course, but back then your knees were still covered in scabs from kneeling before a God who would never come. Back then your mother kept you kneeling until the final bell tolled, her hand firmly clutching your shoulder to keep you in place.

You were only eighteen then. And while the outside world was torn apart month by month, its people haunted by death piled upon death, your town continued on as it always had. The whispers of a war that would end the world were just whispers, covered up by scriptures that the local preacher would sight every Sunday morning just after you’d collected the eggs from the chicken coop and put on your best dress like your mother had always taught you.

But it was different for you, even back then. Because while it had been easy to kneel when you were a girl, you had begun to grow. Eighteen then, but you had begun to see the flaws within the Church when you were sixteen. And by eighteen, you knew better.

By eighteen, you could see the sweat beading along the preacher’s forehead. By eighteen, you could hear wavering in your mother’s voice when she proclaimed that this was just a test. That this was meant to happen. That the Bible had always predicted this, and if you remained faithful, then you would be saved . . . spared.

But by eighteen, you knew better.

It took one quiet night and a hammering heart for you to sneak into your father’s study and head straight for this desktop. It took even less time to discover what had become of the world. One. Two. Three clicks and then . . .

You remembered the choking feeling bubbling up your chest as your eyes scanned the news articles. A virus. One so horrible and unforgiving that it could take a healthy vessel, and within twenty-four hours, the body would succumb to death. But, you’d seen stuff like this before, right? You knew there had been plenty of diseases and viruses and they all had cures. They all had to have cures. They had to.

That was just the thing: no matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t find any article that explained how this virus came about. It was unknown, deadly, spreading rapidly, and there was no way of telling when it’d reach your town. It was just . . . just . . . (It was the first time you truly felt helpless.)

You remembered staying up with the sun, looking for answers, only to come out empty-handed. And when your father discovered you in his study that morning, you nearly confessed right away, sobbing into his arms. But no shame was brought upon you that day.

Your father had been a good man. He had loved you so. He had loved his family, no matter the consequences or conditions.

This town, your town, was small. It consisted of around only three thousand people give or take, all of which were either Christian, secluded, or . . . your father. In all the years you had been alive, not once had your father stepped into the Church. You never asked. You never worried. Your mother just always told you your father was busy every single time, and you believed her because back then, you’d trusted her with all of you.

As you grew, your suspicions of him did, too, but you remained silent as you always had in life. And it was only until that morning when he wrapped you in his arms and let you cry into his shoulder, did you realize why he never entered the Church, why he never spoke the prayers your mother praised, why neighbors would talk of his name only in hushed conversations.

He didn’t believe.

No, he believed in something just not . . . this sacred word your town so desperately worshipped. And that morning, he told you the truth. From his childhood to how he ended up in a town like this. He told you it all, and then he told you the truth. He told you how your mother was scared (how she always had been) and how one day he hoped with enough trying, she’d see the world for what it was ( . . . she never did). And then he told you about the virus, and everything was so much clearer.

The town had everyone convinced this was some kind of test. There was no virus to them. This was the reaping. The scriptures were true to them. And so every Sunday, you were forced to acknowledge that Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death—the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse had come to earth with the power to destroy humanity.

That was how it had been explained to your town, and all its people believed. A sickness had struck the world, yes, they told that much truth, but they chalked it all up to being some kind of plot point in God’s plan. To top it off, it was said that if the townspeople all repented and did right by his name, then salvation would be given.

That was what was told, and that was what was believed.

You remembered the preacher’s voice even now.

Then I saw when the Lamb broke one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures saying as with a voice of thunder, "Come." I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer.

— Revelation 6:1–2

That scripture haunted you just as your father’s face did, but back then you hadn’t realized the detriment it would have on you. Back then, you played your part. Back then, you dressed as your mother advised, went to church, and listened, and then, when all was said and done and your mother had gone to her room, you snuck off to accompany your father on his hunts. And during those times, you’d learn the truth.

While the two of you hunkered down, waiting for deer to pass through your side of the woods, he told you about what was going on with the rest of the world. He explained how the CDC had claimed this thing; Pestilence (as your town believed) was some kind of virus, yes, only they wouldn't release the survival rate except for a few things that stated it was deadly, spread rapidly, and anyone could have it, but by the time symptoms had started to kick in, it would be too late.

As the weeks went by, as the more hunting extravaganzas you went on with your father piled up, his news became more worrisome. At first, the virus was contained in the North of the world, but as it took more lives and less information about it was being provided to the public . . . people began to panic. Hysteria spread throughout the world. Cases of this unknown virus peaked, and the government released statement after statement informing the public that face masks would be required to prevent the virus from spreading and travel restrictions would soon be put into place.

Only by that time, it was too late.

Carriers of this unknown virus had already traveled far and near, spreading the disease throughout the world. This so-called Pestilence might have only been given reign to a quarter of the world, but his disease had spread farther than his radius.

And while you had been young, you realized that this virus had only one purpose: to kill. There was no survival rate. No hope.

The world shut down soon after more and more people started dropping like flies, succumbing to the miserable disease that left them with boils and blisters covering their skin. Hospitals became overrun. Schools were wiped out with kids coming home with this deadly virus. Workplaces were abandoned, the people wishing to stay at home with their families, too afraid to step outside without any real knowledge of how this virus worked.

Your town remained oblivious, too, as the region shut down, gates being made so no one could enter or leave. It was safer that way they claimed. All of those who could be saved would be saved and helping those seeking a refuge was against the rules. It all felt like some kind of sick plan if you had anything to say about it.

By the time your father had taught you how to shoot your first deer without you sniffling in fear, Vaccines were finally attempted, but nothing worked; the disease only spread, and more people died.

Then . . . it all just stopped.

But your town continued to spread its lies.

The story remained the same even all these years later. You remembered how while you had learned the virus was supposedly coming to an end, your town still painted the picture of the Horsemen. Tales of Pestilence’s reign still remained.

They went on and on about how he rose from the depths of Hell. Pestilence had come. He, who sat on his white steed, had a bow, a crown that had been gifted to him by his gods had come, and when he had, he went out conquering. And so he did.

Until he was put to rest; until his conquering had come to an end. You listened with half a heart as the preacher went on and on about how his time had ended, yes, but this was not the end. All you had to do was keep praying, keep repenting, keep . . . kneeling, and you’d be saved.

But you knew better.

While others would attend midnight mass in addition to morning, you claimed you had to pray on your own, and when your mother had left with your sister on her hip, you snuck off with your father to learn of the world. You snuck off to better your shooting arm, to seek comfort in the only person who seemed to have their head screwed on right, to shoot ducks and geese and deer and everything in order to keep your town fed while everyone else prayed to a God that wasn’t doing half your work. And yet, every time, every kill, your father knelt beside the animal and prayed, until you had begun to do the same.

You weren’t sure why he did it. You had never asked. You never thought you needed to. (Now you would’ve done anything to know the answer.)

And so . . . life went on like that. Completely cut off from the world without the help of the internet your father provided for the two of you, life went on.

The virus no longer spread further, and many believed it was all just some hoax. News stations came to life again, but not much else was restored. That was how everyone found out the virus had concluded. Hell, even you remember being twenty-one years old, having your first legal shot with your father in the middle of the woods while the two of you watched news reporter after news reporter claim the virus had mutated and mutated so much to the point our bodies had accumulated a natural resistance to it.

But you couldn't believe it.

Three whole years of this deadly disease taking out population upon population, and then it all ceased. It felt almost too good to be true.

Of course, the town believed this too. Pestilence had conquered, and that was just the problem.

Every day, day in and day out, words spread throughout the hollow, the word in the Church mutated each week, even your mother who had spent the last three years praying to Jesus, Joseph, and Mary; your mother who had gone through rosary after rosary begging for God to have mercy on your family; your mother who had always forced you to attend those days at church on Sunday went around the house, boarding up the windows and hiding the special silverware in the basement, claiming that he would come next.

He has conquered, she had hissed over your shoulder when you and your father came back from one of your hunts.

Pestilence's reign had ended (according to your mother, who you were almost certain had a few screws loose). You didn’t believe it for a second, ignoring your mother's desperate ramblings.

War will come, she warned.

War will come.

But . . . you knew if something did come, it wouldn’t be this War.

And then . . . then he did.

The first sighting of the dead coming back was spotted just months after the virus that had plagued millions had ceased. And this time . . . the town allowed its folk to see the reports. Even your mother had brought the television from the basement to witness the dead rise . . . or rather . . . War. The news stations had captured a recording of these . . . people; people who had suffered from the virus coming back, and then with only their teeth, tearing any live thing apart. The recording was aired all across the world, fear, and hysteria spreading like wildfire.

The government was still up and running at this point with only one mission: to shoot down these seemingly reanimated corpses before they could cause more harm. People believed this to be a fluke, but your mother's words had stuck with you.

War will come.

It was all a little hazy now, but you remembered bits and pieces of the world back then. War had been quick, ruthless, and determined.

This was no man. This was War.

And it all became clear soon after.

While Pestilence had been silent, War had wanted an audience.

The things he could do; the people he could hurt . . . it was all so gutting. Those lost to the virus kept coming back, all with one purpose: destruction. With one bite, their victims would soon fall ill to that same virus, and then once it had taken their body, they’d come back, reanimated with the same gruesome purpose.

The government finally fell when the dead could no longer be stopped. Quarantines dropped, people ran, and everything just . . . stopped. These creatures tore through cities, sinking their teeth into civilians. And you watched it all on the television, until that, too fell, leaving the rest of the world in the dark.

That was when you realized just how real all of this was. That was when you realized the past three years of hunting with your father was not just something the two of you would look back on and laugh about one day when this virus was over. No . . . it seemed . . . it seemed you couldn’t quite see the end or maybe . . . maybe you could and that was the problem all along.

Your father, the man he was, tried to remind you that this was not War; that this was not the supposed God’s plan everyone was convinced of in your godforsaken hollow. And you tried to hear him, but for a while, you wished to be like everyone else in the town. You wished you could believe this was some greater plan. You wished you could believe that this was all because of some Horseman . . . but you knew better, and your father seemed to know this as well.

(And yet, when you thought back on it now, the stages in which the world ended still presented themselves as the Horsemen in your troubled mind.)

Because, well, you supposed that was truly when the world had ended—the day War came.

War will come, your mother had warned, and you knew that to be true the day the electricity stopped working. War had come, and he'd taken civilization with him. And while he reigned over the quarter of the world he'd been gifted, the rest of the world lay in the dark, trying to navigate throughout this new world.

From time to time you had heard talk of distant wars. You, however, had never seen one.

But War's ruthless hand still reached your town.

There was no news or contact with the outside world other than the people you could see with your own eyes. No transportation, no government, no nothing. It was said that cars had even been abandoned on highways as people tried to leave town to find their families. But they never got far; not with this newfound order bestowed upon the earth.

Because truly . . . War did not need to come to earth to corrupt it.

The government had fallen, the world had ended, the apocalypse had begun and that was all it took for chaos to ensue. People became their worst selves at the end of the world, you'd been told all your life through media upon media. But you had to disagree. You thought, perhaps, the end of the world brought out who people truly were deep inside. It allowed people to let go of civility.

And you discovered people really were perhaps even worse than this supposed War himself. Or rather a product of War and his righteous hand.

(Although, how righteous could he truly be?)

While War reigned, the rest of the world scavenged. Your family stood stagnant in your childhood home, holding up there for as long as you could. It was still warm when the second wave hit. You knew you'd need to find a different shelter when the time came.

The cold wasn't your only problem either. People were at their worst. When the news broke out in your town, the scriptures they held so dear began to fall apart. A lot left, some stayed, and others turned on each other, leaving houses with bloodstained splatters and a fear of thy neighbor. Your family stayed, however. Your mother read scriptures every day. Your father recited the truth. And they argued, while you sat by the window, terrified out of your mind as you watched the empty streets.

That was when you realized another truth about yourself. You were just about to turn twenty-two, the world had gone to shit, and you had never been so scared. Pestilence. War. Famine. Death. Their names raged on inside your head and it was as if you were still just a young girl, kneeling in church despite the scabs. Except now, you were a girl who could no longer kneel in church, and yet you were still so scared.

It felt cruel. Perhaps even unreal.

The scriptures had predicted this—the four harbingers coming down to scorn the earth. But you hadn't believed it. You were forced to now.

It was War’s reign back then. But Death would come one day. He had come to kill you all; to finish off everything his brothers hadn't touched, and one day he would.

It had been predicted. The words stuck in your head even now.

When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a pale horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.

— Revelation 6:7–8

Your mother told you long ago of these scriptures. When you were a child, you'd cover your head with your blankets, hiding from the mysteries of the night. Somewhere in your innocent mind, you'd convinced yourself the devil himself would find his way into your room, wrap his bony hand around your ankle, and drag you to the pits of Hell.

Back then you'd feared death. You'd done everything to steer far from its clutches.

She’s afraid of the world, your peers would hiss under their breath, not knowing you'd heard every word. And you knew they were right. You knew you had always been a scared kid, trying your hardest to keep the monsters at bay.

You wished you'd realized there had been no real monsters . . . yet. You would've lived more. Now you knew the consequences.

Now there was no more living, just surviving.

Still, sometimes you found yourself missing it; missing life. It was a bitter thought—what could've been had the world not ended all those years ago.

Back then—before the end—you'd feared death.

How far will this go? you remembered thinking back then when it was still War’s reign. How long until things are normal?

You didn't have the stomach back then ****to come to terms with the truth. You barely remembered it now.

But you did remember the day everything truly changed for you.

Up until that day, you'd been following your father's orders, huddling up in your home with your mother and little sister as the four of you survived day by day. Then . . . your house had been broken into, the intruder coming in through your window.

Back then you had feared death. You had thought you were going to die.

You'd thought this up until the very last scream ripped through your throat just as your father emerged from the shadows, a look on his face you’d never seen, moments before everything went red. You remembered that to this day. While everything else was blurry, that moment was clear. You could still feel the blood splatter on your face as you watched your father—the man who used to tie your shoes for you before you hopped on the school bus—kill a man before your very eyes, ripping out his jugular with his bare teeth.

Once a girl who could no longer kneel in church, became one painted with the blood from another. And you remembered a small part of you—the part that had once knelt so much her knees had turned to scabs—that this was all War’s fault.

You thought it until you watched the man pale, falling to your childhood bedroom floor with a thud. You remembered how his eyes stayed wide open, locked on you as he gurgled and choked on his blood, bleeding out onto your pink carpet. He didn't blink. Not once. Not even at all. They stayed cold and empty as your father breathed heavily above him.

And then you looked at him.

Your father was a good man. He was kind and just, despite the town. He believed in science and facts. He wanted the truth. But none of that mattered if his family was at stake.

Your father was a good man. He loved you, and he would’ve done anything for you.

Your father was a good man.

Your father had ripped out another man’s jugular in front of you.

Your father was a good man.

Your father had killed someone.

This was the end. You knew it, and it knew you, too.

(It wasn’t talked about, and you never brought it up again. He simply embraced you in a tight hug and kissed your forehead, leaving a smudge of blood from the man in doing so, and whispered apologies that would never sink deeper than your skin.

(Now you wished you would’ve told him you understood. Now you would’ve looked at him and seen an image of yourself staring right back. Now you would’ve hugged him back.))

That was all it took before your father took it upon himself to gather your mother and little sister, put all necessities in the car, and collect enough portable gasoline as he could before the four of you set off down the road. Where you were going was undetermined. There was no knowing . . . because there was nowhere to go.

The world had ended. There was nothing left. You just had to go.

You have to grow up. No more kid stuff, your father said to you that night on the road while your mother and little sister were fast asleep in the back of the car. One day I might not be here to protect you. You have to learn to protect yourself.

And you'd promised him you would. Because you had to. You had been old enough then, after all. You had been twenty-one . . . technically an adult.

(Now, however, you realized you had still been too young. Twenty-one wasn't old enough to face the end of the world.)

But . . . what happens when a scared young girl is forced to grow up too soon? She turns into a machine.

Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat.

Your father had borne that burden back then, when you first set off on the road. The car hadn't lasted long. Not that it mattered. The world was a wasteland anyway. Walking from town to town on the vacant streets and highways was nothing new now.

You just have to survive, he kept telling you. Survive long enough to keep them alive.

And you always knew what he meant. He was training you for the day when he would be no more. Because when that day came, you would be the one left in charge. He'd turned you into a machine because that was the world you lived in. You were the oldest. Your sister was barely five years old back then. And your mother . . . your mother who once believed this was all some greater plan, was now convinced that if she prayed hard enough it'd stop Famine from following after his ruthless brother.

It was your job to remember what your father had taught you when Pestilence first came to reign—how to hunt, how to shoot a shotgun, and now . . . how to survive.

And when Famine came; when you caught sight of the words Famine has risen spray painted on a billboard on the side of a highway, reminding you of your sick home. It was then you finally learned how to survive. You didn't realize how hard it would be until a year after Famine's birth, your father had passed because of you (because of a stupid decision that you had made which you still couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge).

Survival became all that you knew after that.

Your father was gone. It was just like he had warned. You were in charge now, and you had one purpose: keep your family alive.

The burden became yours to bear.

This was your purgatory and you'd do well to repent for what you'd done; for the man you'd sent out to die; for the father you'd lost.

Survive, survive, survive. It was all you knew.

And when the final Horseman rose, you knew what you had to do. It didn’t matter if it killed you, you couldn’t let your family die at the hands of one of those . . . creatures.

Death had risen. The entire world was a wasteland filled with undead and wars made by man.

If you crossed paths with one of those creatures and let them lay a finger on your family, your oath to your father would be broken. Death would kill you all.

So you kept going, trying to outrun the inevitable.

Because you had to. For him. For your father. For the ghosts that haunted you.

Your father had wielded you to become a machine. And a machine you would become.

Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat.

The routine was ingrained in your brain, going on and on like a mantra. You couldn't escape that. Not that it mattered. Survival mattered. Keeping your group, your sister, your mother, and your family alive mattered. They were all that mattered. You would skip as many meals as your body would let you if it meant they'd stay fed.

Sometimes you found yourself laughing at how naive you had been in the past. At twenty-five now, you were equal parts machine and woman, still oozing blood when wounded despite your protests. You didn't tremble at the sight of blood now. You didn't fear death.

When you were a kid, death was your greatest fear. Now, you envied it. Envied the fact you had to walk the earth; the same earth the dead destroyed. Because you couldn't die. That was the harsh truth: you couldn't die.

You'd feared death for so long and now as you sat awake, keeping watch while your group slept, you yearned for the clutches of death to drag you into nothingness. It was almost laughable.

In a world where people now fought for their lives, trying to outrun the dead, you wished to succumb to death. You knew it was wrong, and you'd never speak it aloud, but you yearned for it. This world was shit. Complete and utter shit, and you wanted to give up. Everything in you wanted to just wait like some brainless sitting duck and let Death or disease or even those wretched beasts you heard groaning in the dead of night have their way with your hollow body.

But you couldn't . . . not when you promised your father you'd protect them. He'd died for you, and it was your duty to keep your family safe. Your duty.

You couldn't die, not when you had to keep them alive.

So you let yourself turn into a machine.

And a ruthless machine you had watched yourself become.

That night had been enough evidence of this. Because that night as you sat on a log, slowly dragging yourself out of the past and into the present, you realized one thing. A bloody knife sat in your hand while you watched over your sleeping group, eyes searching for any sign of the dead, and that was when it dawned on you that you had been right all those years ago—the end of the world brought out who people truly were.

You were a machine. You didn't feel. You couldn't.

Glancing down at the bloody knife in your hand, you realized you hadn't felt anything that night.

That night you'd done something you never thought you would. That night your group was attacked by a man with a gun; a man who wanted to harm; a man who had put his hands on your little sister. She was only eight going on nine, and she was your responsibility, and as soon as his hand clamped down over her shoulder while he held a gun to her head, threatening to pull the trigger unless you gave up all your food, you lost it.

Everything went black. You couldn't see. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even think. You just felt this pure blinding rage.

When you finally regained your sight, you realized what you'd done—you'd killed the man.

No, killed was too vague.

Like the true machine you had become, you had slaughtered him; the bloody knife in your hand was evidence enough of that.

The man was dead, a chunk of his jugular ripped out while he clutched the many stab wounds piercing his stomach. And you . . . you stood above him, eyes wide, bloody knife in hand, and the bitter taste of blood on your tongue.

You'd never killed anyone before. You'd put people out of their misery, but you'd never taken another life like this. You'd never had to.

But you had that night.

And now you paid the consequences.

It had been hours since then. No one had spoken a word since. And your sister . . . your little sister had only looked at you once since then, and you could see the utter terror her round eyes held. Normally she would sleep by your side, but she'd curled up next to your mother that night.

She was afraid of you, and you couldn't blame her. You had once given your father the same look.

So you sat alone on that damned log, bloody knife in hand as you thought back on how you managed to end up in this Hell. Sometimes you felt like a ghost, and now you knew why.

Your brows pinched together. You couldn't help but think: is this what your father had intended?

How much of a machine had he meant for you to become? Were you supposed to clutch onto the part of yourself that was still human? Or had becoming a monster been part of the deal when you'd signed off your soul for machine parts?

You weren't sure. You weren't really sure of anything anymore.

Your sister had looked at you like you were one of the monsters that plagued your earth, slowly destroying it region by region.

Were you no better than the dead to her?

You swallowed hard.

Had you become a monster?

“You did what you had to do,” you heard a deep voice from behind you, perhaps answering your thoughts.

But you didn't jump as you turned to see Felix sit down on the log beside you, exhaustion weaving through his delicate features. You didn't speak a word, just stared at the side of his face for a second before you glanced back down at the bloody knife in your hand.

You did what you had to do.

You nearly laughed. It was just like him to say such things.

You see: Lee Felix had joined your group around the same time Famine took his reign, and ever since then he'd been following you around like your own personal shadow. That was three years ago now. Your father had saved him, offering him to join your family on the road. Perhaps your father had seen something in him. Or maybe he had just saved him simply because that was just who your father was: a hero.

Not that it mattered. You'd taken a liking to Felix, too. He was kind.

Kind had been rare back then. It still was.

And Felix stayed kind.

When your father passed, Felix stuck by you. Your mother had begun to look at you as if you were a stranger, and your little sister still had been too young to understand much. Felix had made life easier.

You'd taught him everything you knew partly because you needed to and partly because you liked being around him as if he were the younger brother you’d never had. Little bird, you called him . . . because you'd taught him everything. You'd taught him how to survive. And sometimes you thought maybe you would've been friends outside of this. If things were different, if you'd met in a world where the apocalypse hadn't happened . . . then you'd like to think you could have met; that your paths would've crossed.

But things weren't different. You weren't even sure if you could let him in entirely. Your friendship would surely put him in some sort of jeopardy. Because, really, it all came down to survival, and you needed him to live. You didn't care what happened to yourself. You just needed to stay alive long enough to make sure they'd all make it.

That still didn't stop the feeling of relief that washed over you as soon as you felt him lean into you, arm touching yours. He was trying to comfort you in the way that he knew, and you couldn't help but lean against him further.

He was still just as kind as the day you'd crossed paths.

But you?

Well . . .

“I ripped his throat out . . . " you heard yourself roughly mutter before you felt the words tumble from your tongue. You lifted a hand to your blood-stained lips and swallowed. “I ripped . . . throat . . . his . . . with my teeth.” You swallowed once again, harder this time as your eyes drifted to your little sister's sleeping figure. She had been so scared. You had done that. You had scared her. “She looks at me like I’m a monster.”

”You’re not."

“Lix."

“You’re not,” he reiterated, his voice as harsh as he could manage (which was not harsh at all) while he clutched your blood-stained hand and took it into his. “You did what you had to do.”

Your eyes flicked down to your hands. But you didn't look at him. You couldn't. You just kept thinking and thinking and seeing that look on your sister's face. And then . . . then you felt yourself say. ”She says all life is precious. She cries when we have to put down a squirrel for Christ’s sake. I should’ve known. I should’ve—”

”She’s just a kid."

“I didn’t have to kill him,” you continued. “There was a point where I could’ve knocked him out. I thought about it. And I still killed him.” Your eyes finally snapped to his then. “I wanted to kill him, Lix.”

A muscle in Felix’s jaw twitched. ”It’s people like him that make me wonder if this world got it all right,” he admitted after a second. “I’m glad he’s dead. I just wish I could’ve been the one to do it.”

Your breath hitched at his words, not because they'd shocked you . . . but rather because you found yourself agreeing. But that wasn't . . . right. Felix was kind. You were not. He was good, and you . . .

”You don’t mean that,” you mumbled, squeezing his hand. “You’re not . . . “

”Not what?” Felix countered, eyes searching yours. “Hmm? Not what?”

You blinked, your throat constricting. ”Too far gone,” you choked out.

His brows twitched, his expression softening. ”Neither are you."

His hand touched your face a second later, his thumb wiping the dried blood from your chin. You weren't a monster in his eyes. You were just his friend. He didn't fear you, but you knew he should've.

But for a second, you let yourself forget this. Instead, you closed your eyes, allowing him to clean your face of the man's spilled blood. And when he was done, your eyes fluttered open just in time to see him try to reach for the knife in your hand, probably to release it from your tight hold.

However, you shifted it out of his grasp. His eyes snapped to yours then, questioning.

You offered a weak smile—something you didn't do often, but would for him. ”Sleep,” you hummed, patting his shoulder. “We need your brute strength in the morning.”

”We need your brain more,” he countered, tapping a finger to your forehead.

”Sleep, little bird."

He rolled those round brown eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."

Nevertheless, Felix listened to you. He shifted down onto the ground, resting his head on the log, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes closed. And you watched him until you were sure he was resting soundly. Then, your eyes went back to watching, making sure to keep your promise to your father.

But just as you were sure it was just you and the silence of the night again, you heard Felix’s voice filter through your ears, ”You’re not too far gone."

You swallowed hard but said nothing.

You're not too far gone.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

As if like some sort of phantom, your knees had begun to itch like they used to after mass all those years ago. For the first few days, you tried to ignore it, writing it off as poison ivy or not bathing for a few weeks, but even when you’d scratch, the itch would remain. You came to realize that this wasn’t something you could write off; this wasn’t something that hadn’t been caused by anything other than . . . you.

A few nights ago, you’d killed a man. You’d ripped out his throat with his teeth, and for a second too long, you’d enjoyed it. Now . . . now you wondered just how deep your guilt ran. Now you wondered if given the chance, would you do it again?

But you already knew the answer.

Your knees had begun to itch once again . . .

And you tried to ignore it. Honest, you did, but his screams; how easy it was to bite into his flesh; the bitter taste of metallic blood on your tongue which oddly tasted too similar to honey; the life in his eyes quickly dissipating as you towered over him like a predator to its prey; all of it kept playing in your head over and over again. You couldn’t escape it, not even when night came and you were forced to close your eyes.

His face was always there.

Sometimes you wondered if any of it had actually happened. Sometimes you wondered if none of this was real or if you even were. Sometimes you wondered if this man had been Death; if the tales your town preached had been real and this was your test.

Sometimes you wondered if you had failed.

And you knew you had.

At night, you could hear your mother whispering prayers under her breath, pleading to the heavens that she and her daughter would be spared. And every time, you knew which daughter she meant. Every time you knew she was praying to be spared from you. Every time you knew it was you who she feared the most in this world. And every time you wondered if one day he’d finally answer her prayers.

You couldn’t even blame her, because a few nights ago you’d done the one thing you’d never thought you’d have to do—kill a man. You knew you were some kind of fucked for that alone.

Then, last night, you began to wonder if this was how your father had felt. You began to wonder if this was why he was dead and not you. You wondered if he’d done it to save you, and to put himself out of his own misery.

And then you began to pray, too. You’d stopped believing in God years ago, but it was an old habit that you sometimes indulged in for some sick kind of comfort. And this time, in the dead of night, you’d shut your eyes and beg for your father’s ghost to return to you. You begged for just one more minute. One more minute and he could tell you how to deal with this; how to survive this, too, just as he had taught you how to endure everything else.

But no ghost ever came, only the perpetual darkness galloped in, consuming you whole.

Your father was gone, and it was all your fault. Guilt was your ghost, not him.

He would still be here if you hadn't—

"Mom thinks you've been possessed by the devil," your little sister's voice brought you out of your mind.

You blinked once. Then, you glanced down at her, taking note of her skeptical eyes and furrowed brows. It was almost as if she were inspecting your face, trying to decipher if you, her older sister, really were possessed as your mother had claimed.

It had been the first time your sister had spoken to you in the past week. The four of you had been walking through the woods, steering clear of the main roads ever since you’d come into contact with that man—the man whose blood you could still taste on your tongue.

She’d taken to walking hand-in-hand with your mother, just a few feet behind you and Felix as the two of you led the way into the unknown. You didn’t know where you were going. You never did. That was the thing about the end of the world—the only thing that mattered was surviving day by day. There was no end-point.

But today while you led the group through the woods, eyes searching for any rodents or small animals to capture for food, your head stuck in the past, your sister had taken the chance to walk into step with you. And those . . . those had been her choice of words.

Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.

And now with the world a ghost of itself, you thought perhaps maybe your mother could be right. You’d changed. The world had changed you. The old taste of blood on your tongue was evidence enough of that.

You’d killed a man. You’d ripped out a chunk of his jugular with your teeth and plunged the very knife in your belt into his flesh over and over again until you were sure he couldn’t do more harm.

Kill or be killed, sure, but . . .

. . . You’d still killed a man.

You’d actually taken a life.

(You weren’t expecting it to haunt you this much. But it had. You could still see his face, hear his voice, smell him, feel him. He was still very much alive in your mind, haunting you like a ghost.

It didn’t matter if he was more monster than man . . . you had still killed him. You had still taken a life without a second thought. His evils didn’t matter . . . guilt still seeped in.)

Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.

And maybe you had been.

That would’ve been easier to fathom.

But instead of voicing these thoughts aloud, you adjusted your backpack on your shoulders, touched a finger to the knife tucked into your belt to make sure it was still there and tightened your grip on your father’s shotgun in your hand before you finally spoke.

"Mom's off her meds," was all you offered. It was all you could say. And it hadn’t been what your sister was searching for.

Your sister stepped back, allowing you to walk alone. You knew you were losing her. You knew she barely trusted you now just as your mother stopped considering you a daughter.

And you couldn’t blame them.

The end of the world brought out who people truly were, and you were someone not worth saving.

The sun had begun to set when you finally declared you’d be stopping for the night. It wasn’t a solid resting place, which meant another night of no sleep on your part, but that didn’t bother you much anymore. All that mattered was there were no signs of the dead, no low groans in the distance, no immediate danger, and the small creek running just a few meters from your camp would provide just enough for you to wet your face and clean any dried blood from your skin. That was what mattered—a temporary sanctuary.

Felix had taken to accompanying your little sister to the creek, while your mother gathered small twigs and broken branches to add to the fire you had just started. But your eyes never stopped watching your little sister, keeping an eye on her to ensure no danger would reach her or Felix while you were occupied.

That was your only concern. Your second was food. There had to be some crawfish lingering in the creek that you could fry up. That was your second concern right after the fire was steady enough to last until nightfall.

With a soft sigh, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from your sister’s smiling face. You tried to ignore how she smiled at Felix while he splashed water at her. You tried to ignore the soft laughter you could still hear as you stabbed at the fire with a branch. You tried to ignore the thought that she’d never look at you like that; never laugh like that with you; never trust you like that again.

You tried to ignore how you had become more of a loose end your family needed to tie off, than a daughter or an older sister.

But you couldn’t. The thought was always there. There it would remain, you were sure of it.

Clenching your jaw, you added the branch in your hand to the fire, watching it crackle under the embers. And for a moment, you wondered what it would feel like if you were to reach forward and let the flames lick your fingertips.

Had he felt like this, too?

Had your father had these thoughts before he died for you?

Did he ever wonder if—

“You’re just like him, you know?” your mother nearly whispered, tearing you from your mind as she set down the pile of branches she had collected.

You glanced at her once, then glared into the fire. “Is that supposed to hurt me?”

She shook her head only once. “It should scare you,” she clarified, standing to her feet so she could tower over you once again. “God’s plan—”

“God’s plan?” you immediately spat out with a humorous scoff, now standing to your feet as well. You were taller than her now, unlike when you were a kid; unlike when you used to do everything she told you; unlike when she still considered you her daughter. “What does God’s plan have to do with my father?”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “He has protected us this far. He couldn’t save your father. I’m worried if you continue down this path, he won’t be able to save you either,” she muttered back as she clutched the cross around her neck as if she thought it would ward you off like you had become one of the evils she’d warn you about when you were just a girl.

But you were no longer small; you were no longer moldable by her hand, and now, you were only made of anger. “You think God’s the reason we’re alive?” you questioned her, eyes narrowing into slits.

Your mother remained silent but clutched her cross harder. And you knew what that meant.

Your eyes flicked from her hand to her face. Then, you took a step forward, chin jutted out. “Is it God who kills so we can eat? Is it God who got us here, to this point? Is it God who holds dad’s gun?” you bit out as you touched a hand to your chest. “God doesn’t have a fucking plan.” You drilled a finger into your chest, your angry eyes never leaving hers. “I do. And God couldn’t save dad because it was supposed to be—”

But your words halted in your throat. You couldn’t admit it to her. You couldn’t tell her you were the reason behind your father’s death. It didn’t matter if she already knew. You just . . . you just couldn’t admit it to her face.

“God doesn't fucking exist,” you muttered out instead, turning away from her. “And if he did, he’s sure as hell dead now.”

“Your father filled your head with lies.”

You turned back to her, eyes glaring into hers. “Bullshit,” you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “He was the only one who ever told me the truth.”

Ignoring your words, she took a step away from you, her hand remaining on the cross around her neck. "Your father . . . I knew he was deeply flawed when I married him, but I just figured he’d change. I figured he’d see the way, instead he only got worse, but he knew when to control it. He knew right from wrong,” she went on, her voice steady, but her eyes had begun to water. And you knew tears would come, and when they did, you’d leave to kill the crawfish. "But, you, honey . . . I don't know where we went wrong with you. It's like you came out of the womb defective. You got all the bad traits of your father and nothing else. I look at you and I see this angry little girl. And, you know, sometimes I ask myself how in the world we managed to raise a daughter who is even more deeply flawed than her bastard father, but I never seem to know the answer."

There were the tears now.

But along with it came a knife in your chest that kept twisting and twisting the more she spoke.

Twist the knife, and she did.

"There's something wrong with you,” she whispered again after a moment’s silence, the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. “You frighten me.”

Twist the knife, and you refused to pull it out.

This was what you deserved.

Still, you didn’t cry, not for yourself. Never for yourself. Instead, you continued to stare at her with no emotion in your eyes as you muttered, “Talking ill of the dead is a sin, remember?” And then you began to turn.

But your mother’s hand landed firmly around your arm. “Don’t you turn your back on me, girl,” she warned, her words sharper than the knife she’d twisted into your chest.

Swallowing hard, you sucked on your teeth. “What else do you want me to say?” you questioned, but didn’t bother to turn and face her. “I have nothing else to give you, mom.”

She released your arm as if you’d burned her and hissed, “Don’t call me that.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion for a mere second before you realized what she meant; before you realized what you’d said; what you’d done. It was an honest mistake, as well. You hadn’t called her that in so long, and yet it still came out. You hadn’t meant to say it, but it still came out as if you were still small and thought the whole world was in her arms.

“Then what do you want me to call you?” you asked, your voice quieter now as you took a step back. “If not mom, then what should your daughter call you? Hmm? Or is the answer nothing? Is that what we are to each other now? Will that make God come down from the heavens and give us salvation? . . . If you abandon me?”

Your mother remained silent.

And you knew her answer.

Sucking on your teeth, you nodded in acceptance. “What?” you spoke in a whisper as you took another step back. “Am I not being loud enough for him?” You outstretched your hands at your sides, gesturing to the heavens. “Should I scream it? Will he finally fucking answer then?”

“Stupid girl—” your mother quickly scolded, grabbing you firmly by the arm— “don’t you dare put this family in danger,”

But you only tilted your head in question. “Does that include me?”

Her eyes fluttered, taken back. “What?”

“This family,” you reiterated. “Am I a part of this family?”

Once again, she remained silent.

But you knew the truth.

“God’s plan as long as I’m out of the picture, right?” you muttered under your breath, swallowing hard once again. “At least we finally agree.”

Then, you were tearing your arm out of her grasp, but you didn’t move, you didn’t even look away from her. Instead, you kept still. You kept your eyes locked with hers as if breaking that eye contact would sever the final string holding the two of you together. She didn’t speak either, and she refused to move. She wouldn’t move first. You knew that. She’d always been that way. So had you . . .

And when you were sure the world had begun to rot around you, you could have sworn her bottom lip quivered as if she were on the verge of saying something . . . anything. Only, when her lips parted a mere sliver, a shrill scream sounded from behind, and the perpetual darkness of your world crept back in through your peripheral vision.

Beat. Your heart shot to your throat.

It happened too quickly for you to think.

Beat. Beat.

You heard the scream and you knew your sister was in trouble.

Beat.

Without a second thought, you dropped everything and ran toward the scream; toward the creek; toward your sister. It wasn’t far, but it was far enough for you to catch sight of two of the dead. One Felix fought off, while trying to grab his knife from his belt. The other had found its way to your sister, pinning her to the forest floor as she thrashed and screamed, her weak limbs desperately trying to keep the thing from sinking its teeth into her flesh.

And you knew what to do.

For a brief second longer, there was screaming. Then the squelch of a knife being plunged through a skull. Then nothing.

The world faded away. No noise. No people. No nothing.

One. Two. Three seconds, then the world started to return.

Breathing heavily, you watched carefully as your mother rushed past you, tearing the dead corpse off your sister and holding her closer . . . closer than she’d ever held you. Your nose twitched for a mere second as your gaze shifted from your mother and sister staring at you in shock ((?) no, maybe it was horror) to the stilled corpse, and finally to the bloodied knife gripped tightly in your hand.

You’d killed that thing, yes. But you hadn’t even thought about it. You hadn’t stopped to think that this thing was once a person. You hadn’t even seen it as such, unlike your mother; unlike what the town had tried to drill into your head during Pestilence’s reign. And . . . you could see that realization in your mother’s eyes.

. . . You were getting worse.

Your legs had begun to weaken at the thought, but you quickly stabled yourself, afraid they’d see it as another sign to put you down like the violent dog you knew they saw you to be. Instead, you tore your gaze from the knife in your hand and met your mother’s eyes once again (but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet your sister’s tearful stare). “Tell me, mo—” you quickly stopped the word from tumbling from your tongue, then went on— “is this still what God’s plan looks like to you?”

But your mother didn’t reply, and you didn’t wait for her to. You could barely stand to hold her gaze for a second longer. Instead, you wiped the blood from your knife on your pants, shoved it back into your belt, and turned, walking back to the fire you had begun to make minutes before.

And as you walked, you took note of the silence which followed you. You took note of how even Felix hesitated slightly before he followed after you. You took note of how your mother and sister sat near that creek for a few minutes longer and didn’t bother to wander after you as if you were no longer their blood.

The final string tying your family together had begun to wear thinner. You wondered when it would finally snap. You wondered how long it would take for a violent dog to succumb to its instincts; how long it would take you to become the lost cause you knew you were destined to be.

Would they make the decision to put you down then?

Four days. Two sleepless nights. And one squirrel shared between the four of you. You felt a fever coming on a couple days ago. You saw the infected cuts from the fight with that man. You knew your body was weakening day by day.

If you didn’t stop soon, you’d sure become one of the dead.

But you tried your best to ignore it. You had to.

Your mother; however, remained hopeful (of course). You could hear her chattering on to your sister throughout the day while you watched the world.

According to her, no one really knew why the Horsemen came to earth. She claimed the world needed saving from certain people (what you were sure she was leaving out was the fact that she was convinced you were one of these people). So, she went on and on and on, and you quietly listened, too, because you were still a girl who used to kneel in church, after all; because you could still feel the bruises on your knees; because you could still see the scars left behind from the scabs.

So, you listened, but you did not believe.

The world was fucked and needed cleansing. People were inherently bad and God saw no other way for salvation (apparently) than to send his four loyal Horsemen to destroy Earth and its people. . . . Well . . . supposedly. You knew the truth; however. There were no Horsemen. There was just death. Something had gone wrong and no one really knew what, so they blamed it on some higher power.

Whatever.

(Supposedly) Pestilence had been a shadow. War had wanted an audience. The world fell before you could get a proper grasp on Famine. And now Death was here. He’d been walking the earth for two years now, and still no one knew why.

Just like the town, your mother had her theories. And while she believed this God was still on your side, still searching for the good in humanity, you thought him fucked up. The human race was just his playthings.

He’d made sure there was nothing left.

Hell, you knew there wasn’t even a god. The world was just fucked. The end.

Point blank: it didn’t matter. Nothing did anymore.

Survival was all that mattered.

Everything else was fucked.

And as you continued to lead the way into nothingness, listening to your mother’s ramblings about the Bible, all you could do was ignore how your knees had begun to itch once again, while you focused on one thought: survive, survive, survive. But . . . not for yourself . . . for them.

Survive long enough for them.

For your father.

For your sister.

For your mother.

For Felix.

For them.

By sundown, Felix managed to find an abandoned warehouse for the night. It wasn’t much, but it was better than sleeping out in the wild. Perhaps all of you could get some shuteye that night. Sure, luckily it was around Fall or maybe just before where it was still warm, but sleeping on logs wasn’t ideal. (Not that you could be picky. Not that you were.)

But, just your luck, sleep never found you.

Beside you, Felix softly snored, laying on his back with his arms crossed over his chest and his head resting in your lap. Your hand found its way to his dark waves, gently scratching his scalp as he slept. It brought you peace where you normally had none.

Sometimes you wondered when Felix would finally realize the monster you’d become. You wondered what it would take. How many more people would you kill for them in order for him to look at you as if you were a stranger?

You didn’t want to see that day come.

It’d already come for your mother the day your father died. Then for your sister when you’d butchered that man. You couldn’t bear living through Felix’s realization.

With a sigh, you glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on your mother’s sleeping figure as your little sister curled up into her side, miles away in her dreams. You hoped it was better there; that her dreams were still pure and innocent despite the world.

You tore your eyes from them a second later, instead opting to glance out the large opening in the warehouse where a window used to be. The world was so bleak now. Even the sight of the empty lands before your eyes stirred nothing within you. It was just so . . . distant.

Nothing was left.

Truly.

Reluctantly, you shut your eyes, trying your hardest to drift off into sleep, but the pounding in your head and the scratch in your throat kept you up. You were getting worse. You squeezed your eyes tighter, hoping this fever would subside soon. The world was darker now, the nothingness intensifying. You weren’t even sure if you could sleep anymore. Had you been? You couldn’t remember.

But just when you were sure sleep wouldn’t greet you that night, forcing you to keep watch, you could’ve sworn you heard an inhuman howl echo throughout the darkness beyond.

Your eyes snapped open, heart hammering.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Another howl echoed throughout the air. But this was no howl from a wolf or even a beast.

You’d heard stories from survivors in the towns you’d passed through in the two years Death had taken his reign over your lands. You’d heard the stories of Death and his steed. His steed, pale in color similar to a corpse, was rumored to have this cry.

The cry was no ordinary cry. Death’s steed cried similar to a wolf or rather a beast, hungry for blood. It was a war cry—a warning sign.

Of course, Death was not real and there was no horse with their cry. No, you knew what this was. You’d heard these cries in smaller amounts. You’d heard these cries as you plunged your knife into each undead’s brain, killing the parasite living within. And a howl like this only meant one thing—a hoard.

You swallowed hard.

Death was near.

You’d thought the undead didn’t hoard unless . . .

The man.

Your eyes widened.

The night the man had attacked your group, you had managed to hotwire a car. That had been your plan. You were going to use that car to get your group farther and safer. But because of that man . . . because of what you’d done to him, you’d accidentally popped one of the tires in the process, forcing your group to stay the night in those woods when you should’ve been on the road.

And his screams . . .

You’d slowed down and made yourself known, and now they were following the noise.

And . . . it was all your fault.

You exhaled a shaky breath.

Death was coming.

Immediately, you swung into action, quietly waking Felix up. His eyes questioned yours before he, too, heard the war cry.

Death was coming. Felix knew this now, too.

The two of you silently awoke your mother and sister, Felix informing them of the matter they had on your hands, while you gathered your father’s shotgun, crouching near the window for a better look. If they were near . . . how near?

You swallowed hard.

Maybe you could still run. You could still get everyone out if you ran. It could work—

But then you saw it.

In the distance, you caught sight of the undead as they cried, following each other.

You checked the gun’s chamber, removing and reloading the cartridges just to make sure they were in place in case you were forced to fire. Your grip tightened and loosened, and you could hear Felix whispering your name, but your eyes were transfixed on the hoard up ahead.

Death was here. So close. Too close.

They couldn’t see you now, couldn’t hear you, but . . . if you ran, they’d catch sight of you. They’d kill your family. They’d kill Felix. They’d kill you all.

There was no way you could outrun the hoard. Not when they were this close; not when they could smell you; hear your every breath.

Fuck.

You wanted to scream.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Your father had trusted you. They all had. And now you were going to let another person down all because you’d been stupid one night. You’d fucked all of you.

“Snap out of it,” Felix whispered, his hand on your shoulder. “Ideas?”

You could only shake your head.

Felix swore, running his hands through his hair. "There's no way," he nearly gasped at his words. "Fuck."

You swore you felt your heart drop as you slumped against the wall. They were going to die. Because of you.

There was no way out; no way any of you would make it past the hoard without them noticing. The moment they saw any of you, they’d follow you until they could get their teeth into your flesh. And while you had no care for your own life, you still had care for theirs—the people you'd sworn to protect.

Your father had died for all of you. He knew it wasn't safe, and he still went out. He'd traded his life for yours. He'd made you swear to protect your mother and your little sister, and along the way, you'd sworn to not only keep them safe but to keep Felix from harm. You'd sworn that, and you were not one to fall back on your word.

There was no way out together. But . . . there was one way out.

You knew what that meant.

This was what your father would've wanted. This was what he would've done; what he had done.

It was always going to turn out this way. You'd known that.

And in that moment, you accepted that. After all, you'd always been told you were your father's daughter.

This was how you made things right.

You nodded at your thoughts.

Then, you felt your eyes burn, your brows scrunching in confusion. Wetness slipped down your cheek and you briefly touched a finger to the tear, finding you were crying. You hadn’t cried in so long.

Angrily, you wiped the tears away. You didn’t get to cry.

This had been your fault in the first place. This was how you made it right. You didn’t get to cry. You didn’t.

So you sent one last glare at the hoard up ahead, then turned to Felix. Fuck. He would be the one in charge now. You trusted him, yes, but you knew how heavy that burden was. That was what you would regret the most—putting Felix through this agony, too.

Still: "Little bird," you whispered.

Fearful tears were already in his eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."

"Can't help it. I taught you how to fly," you hummed, voice soft and unlike you.

You both knew what you meant. You'd taught Felix how to fire a gun, taught him how to gut a fish, you taught him how to survive—you taught him how to fly. But he didn't need any more teachings. Like a baby bird, he'd flown from the nest ages ago. He could fly without you. The thought brought a melancholic smile to your chapped lips as you fought back the burning in your eyes when they met his worried gaze once again.

"Makes me feel important." You touched a hand to his cheek. He felt soft under your calloused skin. "But . . . you don't need me anymore."

Felix exhaled with a strained choke, his eyes widening in realization. "No," he rushed out, shaking his head as his soft brown eyes searched yours. "No." His hand enclosed around the one you'd touched to his cheek. "Don't. Don't."

You knew what he meant. Don't be the hero.

But that wasn't his decision to make. You had debts to pay; people to protect.

Living had never been something you wanted in a world like this. Sometimes you felt like a ghost; when the world was quiet and your heart beat a little slower—you felt like one of the many corpses you'd passed by on the daily.

Years ago, you promised your father you'd take over his job and protect. You'd never wanted to live, but you had forced yourself. Back then, you made a promise to yourself—you had to stay alive, not for yourself, but for them; you had to stay alive for the one you had lost. And you'd upheld that promise, but now . . . in order to save them, you had to break it.

You knew this.

Felix did, too.

He rested his forehead against yours. "Please. Don't. It's supposed to be you and me."

Your eyes squeezed shut. "I'm the reason he's dead."

The two of you knew what you meant. This was how you repaid him; how you repaid your father.

"Then let me do it," Felix muttered, hand dropping from yours to grasp the shotgun in your other hand.

You were quick to rip it from his hold. "It was always going to turn out this way," was all you said, and he knew what you meant.

The sound of the cries coming closer made you spring back from him. Your head swiveled, taking in your surroundings as your hands found their rightful place on the shotgun. Your eyes briefly found your little sister's—her round eyes wide with fright, only furthering your decision. You knew doing this for them, for her.

"Fine," you heard Felix hiss in a quiet whisper. "But I'm coming with you."

Your head snapped to him. "Like hell you are."

"You don't get to die."

"Neither do you."

"Then I guess we have a predicament."

Your eyes softened. "Lix."

His brows pinched together. "You don't get to die."

And you almost felt yourself smile. "Little birds are meant to fly," you hummed. Little birds are meant to fly; they aren't meant to die.

He shook his head.

You swallowed hard.

The cries grew closer, and your heart raced. You were out of time. This was your last goodbye.

You gripped his hand. "Protect them."

He latched onto your shoulders. “No. No. I’m not ready. Don’t make me say goodbye to you.”

Against your will, your bottom lip trembled. “It’s not.”

But it was. You both knew that.

Felix could only shake his head. “Please.”

“See you later, little bird,” you hummed, weakly, kissing his forehead before you tore yourself from him. And he reached for you, begging you to stay.

But . . . no amount of pleas could change your mind. You were already moving before Felix could stop you. You didn’t have the heart to glance back at your sister or your mother. You never wanted to live in a world like this, but if you looked back, you feared you might’ve found salvation in their eyes. You couldn’t put them through that. You’d put them through enough.

You worked quickly. You had to. For them.

The quiet cries of the hoard approached, moving slowly. You kept your eyes on their figures, stealthily stepping down the creaky stairs to the bottom floor. From there, you moved to the woods surrounding the area. You quickly crouched down in the dark forest, clutching the shotgun even tighter. This was your father’s, now it was yours, and you were going to use it to save your family.

You weren’t naive enough to think that you could actually kill all of them. But that didn’t matter. You were solely supposed to be a distraction. You would fire that damned shotgun at those things over and over again, not caring if it even did any damage. You just needed to keep their attention long enough to get them to follow you in the opposite direction. That would allow your family to escape. That was all you intended to do.

You knew there was no surviving this. And you were fine with that.

Death didn’t scare you. Not yours, anyway.

So you hunkered down, hands clutched on the shotgun as you waited for the hoard to get near enough to strike.

You heard them before you saw them. The cries echoed throughout the dark night, making your heart pound faster. It became louder and louder, so loud you felt yourself start to tense, and then the first came into view.

It came to a gentle halt, almost as if it had been expecting you. But that couldn’t be. It hadn’t seen you. You were still in the clear.

Still, you watched, remembering the lessons on hunting that your father had taught you. This was how you hunted—quiet, hidden, and alert.

The creature tilted its head back, eyes closed as the moonlight cascaded across its pale face. Your brows scrunched in confusion as you watched it, tilting your head to the side. It was almost as if it were basking in the moonlight, soaking up the feeling of the satellite shining down on it. And then you realized what it was doing: sniffing you out.

Behind it, the world was bleak as the rest of those damned creatures sauntered forward. The trees seemed to sag, the grass stale, and it was quiet, so very quiet. Every step they took, decay followed.

And then they began to move . . . toward the warehouse where your family still resided.

Your jaw ticked as you raised the shotgun. Your father’s instructions rang through your ears and you lined up the barrel, aiming at one of the creature’s chests as it was perhaps the only part of it you had direct access to. You were certain the impact wouldn’t kill it, you were almost certain it wouldn’t even hurt it, but . . . it would distract it, and that was all you needed.

Last week, you killed a man. You ripped out his jugular with your teeth. You’d slaughtered him. So this, killing this entity shouldn’t have made your stomach churn, but it did.

Your world was gone. Death remained. And it was all his doing.

Still . . . still, your finger hesitated on the trigger.

You would die tonight . . . by its hand, no doubt. And perhaps that scared you. Perhaps a part of you truly didn’t want to die. But you dumbed down this hesitation to just pure fear.

Fear that those things would find your family after disposing of your body; fear they’d kill them; fear all of this would be for nothing.

You swallowed hard and adjusted your grip on the gun. You had to try. Your life for theirs. It was that or you all died tonight, and you wouldn’t have that, not after all you had done; all you had put them through.

All you had to do was pull the trigger. And yet . . . you still hesitated.

Fuck. You closed your eyes, clenching your jaw as your heart hammered in your chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And as your eyes remained closed, you heard their voices then.

You're not too far gone.

Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.

There’s something wrong with you. You frighten me.

You have to grow up. No more kid stuff.

Your breath hitched. You have to grow up. And you had. Too quickly you now realized. It was always going to end up this way.

This was the only way to save them. The only way.

Your eyes snapped open, catching sight of the creatures still sniffing the air like they could just smell your terror. You sucked in a breath, then pulled the trigger. Exhale.

The ringing in your ears was almost immediate and the explosive sound echoed throughout the silent night. You barely even noticed the shotgun’s kickback, too focused on the creatures before you, watching with wide eyes as the pellets hit one of the things, knocking it entirely to the ground.

The others cried out, their noses no longer needing to be depended on as their eyes searched for the origin of the noise. And then you caught the eye of one, and you knew it was the end.

You faltered at the sight, stumbling backward as you tripped on a root, causing your body to hit the ground. A low groan escaped you before you could stop yourself.

Fuck.

Had that been too loud?

Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly glanced up, eyes landing on the creatures. More eyes stared back at you, hungry with . . . something as a few had begun to make their way toward you.

You swallowed hard.

Death itself had seen you.

Acting fast, you hastily grabbed the shotgun. You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up, but you needed to buy your family more time. You needed to end this.

And end it you would.

You clutched the shotgun tightly in your hand and sat up, groaning slightly when you felt a sharp pain in your ankle. But still, you went on.

Remembering your father’s teachings, you knew what a machine was good for at the end of its reign: making a lot of fucking noise.

And so with a heavy heart and angry tears pricking your eyes . . . you belted out a loud yell.

There was no hiding now. They had all heard you. And that was all that mattered to them.

“Come on, you fuckers!” you took it a step further as you yelled at them, clanking the butt of your gun on a tree to make as much noise as you could. And then, when you heard their cries echo with yours; when you saw one turn to two turn to ten following you into the woods, you knew it was time.

With a fleeting look at the warehouse where your family still resided, you fought back the urge to crawl into yourself and let that anger you’d been holding inside yourself for years now finally just . . . snap. You didn’t know if you fired the shotgun at one of the creature’s heads first or ran off further into the woods, still screaming. You didn’t know the present from the past, but you did know you couldn’t look back.

And so, you let yourself be loud, screaming for yourself, for the people you’d lost, for the people you’d never see again, for your father. You yelled and yelled, racing through the woods as they all quickly followed after you, releasing cries of their own.

The world fell behind you in those moments, time moving in slow motion as you weaved through the dark woods, your feet bounding off the ground as if you were in zero gravity. Sound evaded your senses, only the muffled noises of your rapid breathing could be heard echoing in your ears.

But you just kept running, letting the world escape you. Even when you’d trip over hidden roots, your knees buckling as you fell to the ground, surely bruising and cutting up your skin, you persisted each time. Like your father’s daughter, you pulled yourself to your feet each time, sparing a glance over your shoulder only to be met with the sight of the hoard getting nearer and nearer. And every time, you’d force yourself to swallow the bile crawling up your throat before you cocked your shotgun and fired into the hoard, taking off screaming for them to follow after you.

This was the end, and you planned to gather as much of them away from the warehouse and closer to you. You knew it would hurt, but you didn’t care. Their teeth ripping into your flesh would never be a match for the sins you’d committed in this lifetime. That was why you met every dead that got in your path with a lethal hit from the butt of your shotgun and a silent prayer that your damned soul could be traded for the safety of your family.

You were sure you would have continued running had your foot not slammed into a divot in the ground, twisting your ankle with such force that you hit the ground instantly, crying out in pain. And this time when you tried to stand to your feet, you realized the pain was too much to stand.

It hit you then.

Beat.

This really was the end.

You couldn’t run.

Beat.

The hoard was gaining on you.

This was the end.

Beat.

Swallowing hard, you clenched your jaw, shutting your eyes as you realized what you needed to do. Clutching your father’s shotgun close to your chest, so close it nearly touched your heart, your lips parted, and a scream bubbled up your throat, ripping through your vocal cords as it echoed throughout the dead of night.

But before you could inhale and breathe out another war cry of your own to match theirs, a hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your screams. Another hand was gripping your arm the next second, pulling you off the ground and shoving your back against the nearest tree.

Your eyes shot open, dropping your shotgun as your hands instinctively clasped around the wrist of the hand covering your mouth. Deep dark eyes stared back at you, a sense of urgency in them as you realized what was going on.

It happened so fast, too fast for you to process. But you quickly realized the eyes belonged to a man not much older than you. Dark eyes. Full lips. Sculpted nose. It was your first time seeing a man other than Felix . . . other than the one you’d gutted . . . in a long time.

What was he doing?

But you couldn’t ponder long as his eyes twisted to the scene behind you, and you could’ve sworn you felt his heart beat faster against your lips where his hand still lay. And at that sight, he kicked into action.

“You listen to me. We have a few seconds before those fuckers are at our throats,” he spoke in a hushed tone, his voice deep and controlled, but you could sense the fear on him. It was different from yours. “When I tell you, you run as fast as you fucking can in that direction and you don’t stop. You follow me and you don’t get lost or you’re dead.” His hand fell from your mouth as he began hastily digging through the pack over his shoulder. “Got it?”

You skipped a beat, not answering.

His eyes were on you instantly, expectantly.

But you only blinked.

You didn’t want to be saved.

No, he couldn’t do this. It was your time. This was your punishment. He couldn’t—

Your thoughts were cut short as he pulled something out of his pack, and you quickly realized a grenade now sat in his hand. Your eyes widened. He was going to—

“Run,” he bit out, an order.

And it all happened so fast.

You stayed put.

He turned from you, quickly pulling the pin and chucking the grenade as fast and hard as he could from your location. You watched the weapon soar, your heartbeat stilling in your throat as the seconds of anticipation crept upon you.

Beat.

Be—

A loud explosion sounded in the distance, the ground shaking beneath your feet as ringing in your ears commenced. Only then did you realize your feet had been moving on their own, carrying you farther and farther away from the scene as you caught a glimpse of the hoard following after the explosion. But you wouldn’t do this. You had accepted your death. You wouldn’t—

Your feet weren’t moving of your own volition. The world had fallen away from you, you realized, but as you turned your head away from the hoard you realized it was the man who was dragging you away from the scene. You realized in your daze, that he must have locked his grip onto your arm and took off running, dragging you along with him despite your injured ankle and dormant mind.

And for some reason, despite the urge to fall to the ground and let yourself fade away, you allowed him to drag you further and further into the woods. You didn’t realize just how much land you had covered until the sound of the hoard was so far, that he’d begun to slow down ever so slightly. You didn’t realize until the woods turned into sparse grassland, until the sight of what appeared to be a latched roof to an underground bunker of some sort. You’d heard of shelters like these, but you’d never seen one. You always just assumed the military had covered it all up, leaving people to die while they sat safely under the barren earth.

Your mind raced with a million thoughts, but you could barely see straight let alone think right as you allowed this man to drag you to the entrance. Hell, you allowed him to shove you inside, as you crawled down the ladder in the tunnel. It was a subconscious action, honest. Otherwise, you would’ve begged him to leave you outside to die. But there was no breath for begging as he followed in after you, shutting the hatch and twisting it closed to ensure it was tightly locked.

And when your feet finally met the metal flooring of the inside, you stepped back in shock.

As you had predicted, this was a government bunker. A rather large one at that. You swallowed hard. Fuck.

And when you turned around, your eyes searching the area, you were met with the scene of a group of survivors staring back at you in confusion. People. And they were alive. You hadn’t seen so many people since before Famine.

What the fuck?

But before you could react, something hard cracked over the back of your head, throbbing pain followed. The darkness seeped in instantly, your mind losing control of your body as you smacked the ground, eyes fluttering as you faded in and out of consciousness.

There it was, you realized.

Your punishment.

You were going to die.

And you couldn’t help but allow yourself one last selfish look because maybe there was still a small part of you that wanted to be alive. But that part could only live if things were normal again, if things were the way they had been before the world died. Still, that part of you took over and you watched silently, your vision fading in and out as you caught a glimpse of those dark eyes that had saved you, just moments before the world faded into darkness.

The next time your eyes fluttered open, a metal ceiling stared back at you.

There was a throbbing in your head, searing through your thoughts, and your shotgun was nowhere to be found. You released a soft groan, trying to shift in your spot, but you were met with resistance. You tugged and tugged, but your body didn’t budge.

In confusion, you glanced around, finding yourself on a medical bed, your hands tied together with rope, attaching you to the bed. This didn’t make sense. You hadn’t seen a bed in months maybe a year now. This didn’t make sense. Where were you? How did you—

And then . . . then the memories all faded in.

The warehouse. The man. The shots. The hoard.

This was Death’s doing.

The town had warned you of this and you’d denied it. You still didn’t believe. You couldn’t. God was dead and the Horsemen were just a figment of fearmongering. But for a second, you wanted to believe. For that second you were strapped to that bed, you wanted to believe that this was your purgatory and Death was punishing you. That would be easier: if you believed.

Death was an entity; one you had no idea about. There was no knowing what exactly he could and couldn’t do. And this . . . being bound to a medical bed with not even a soul to be heard felt utterly ordinary if he did exist, considering what you did know about this dark being.

But . . . why were you still alive?

Slowly, you lifted your head, groaning at the pain that followed as you assessed the rest of your body. You were alive. Cuts and bruises everywhere, but you could still inhale, exhale, breathe. You could still hear the beat of your heart if you closed your eyes and focused. You were alive.

You were alive.

Your jaw twitched. “I’m alive,” you whispered to yourself, a bitter taste left on your tongue. “I”m . . . alive.”

And for a second, you truly allowed yourself to believe Death existed. You allowed yourself that he had done this to you; that the two years he’d reigned all led up to this very moment. You allowed yourself to believe that he had kept you alive because suffering was for the living.

Was this his way of being kind? Sparing you?

Swallowing hard, you glared up at the unfamiliar ceiling. If you prayed, would he give in? Would he end this suffering? Would he finally give you your punishment?

Your mind wasn’t allowed much longer to ponder as the sound of a door opening brought you out of your repenting. Wearily, you watched with stern eyes as a man stepped in, carrying a bowl in one hand and a washcloth in the other. You watched as he let himself in, still not looking up while he closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh and finally . . . glanced up, meeting your gaze.

Him.

The man.

Slowly, your face softened as confusion consumed you. Him. He had done this to you. He had been the one to lead you here. (He’d also been the one to save you . . . ) He had knocked you out cold. And now . . . now here he was.

You clenched your jaw hard.

The man just stared a minute longer at you, his gaze stern, cold, calculating. Then, he was walking toward you, resting the bowl on the bedside table beside your head before he reached forward and tapped a finger to your chin, tilting your head so he could analyze the wounds on your face.

And you let him, analyzing his actions, preparing for his next.

“You’re awake,” was all he simply said as he dropped your chin and diverted his attention to the bowl on the bedside table. “Sorry about the blow and the rope . . . it’s . . . protocol.”

But you remained silent, watching.

"Your stunt back there . . . could’ve cost us this entire place," he muttered, his voice calm and controlled but you knew he was seething inside. He remained quiet as he dipped the washcloth into the bowl of what seemed to be warm water before he turned to you once again, his eyes lethal. "Screaming only attracts more of them, don’t you know? If you wanted to die, you should’ve just stayed put.”

You swallowed thickly.

There was something terrifying about a quiet rage.

"There's always someone like you," he continued, his eyes racking up and down your body in a menacing glare before the warm touch of a washcloth to your cheek startled a quiet gasp out of your lips. "Someone who ends up surviving longer than they should have." A scoff left him. "Someone who doesn’t care who dies for them as long as they get out unscathed. Did you even think there might be other survivors around before you took off attracting all of those things? If there were children? Families? People who survive together and want to stay alive without running into someone like you?”

And you hadn’t.

You never thought yourself to be stupid or any of the sort. You hadn’t been thinking. There hadn’t been enough time. You just needed to do something so your family could make it out alive. You hadn’t thought that there could be others. You hadn’t thought that saving your family could damn another.

Had your mother been right about you?

Were you really just a stupid girl? A stupid girl playing hero?

The man pulled a chair from the corner of the room, and placed it beside your bed, sitting on it as he dragged the washcloth down your arms now. His touch was somehow gentle despite his glare. Perhaps it was because no one had touched you so gently in so long. Perhaps it was because you had given up, but you let him clean the wounds on your body as you rested your head back onto the pillow, your muscles relaxing ever-so-slightly.

"No?" he questioned, reiterating his accusation. “In my experience, people like you don’t find themselves in trouble like that unless they’re planning something.”

You remained expressionless as you watched him, taking in his words. He thought you’d lured the dead here, and for what? Looting? Or just plain insanity?

Had you really become that corrupt even a stranger could sense it on you?

Slowly, you blinked, wondering if your father had ever felt this way before his death. And as you wondered, the man beside you continued cleaning your wounds, but this time, remained silent. Maybe he realized you wouldn’t answer. Or maybe he already knew the truth about you and your damned soul.

And as the minutes of silence ticked on, you did your own inspection.

Now, under the light, the man sat beside you, his eyes fixed on meticulously cleaning each wound with care despite his lethal words. It had been so long since you’d seen another man like this; a man that had to be around your age; a man so young yet so riddled with age. His dark hair was slightly curly, more tangled and messy than anything as if he hadn’t slept in days. The dark circles under his equally dark eyes were enough to show his evident sleep deprivation. And yet, he seemed almost too alert: his full lips were hidden as his teeth worried his bottom lip while he continued to clean the blood from your skin.

(You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t beautiful; so beautiful it almost made you believe in God once more.)

And for a second, you let yourself wonder what else your mother had been right about. You let yourself believe once again. You let yourself be a girl who could finally kneel in church without bruises being left behind. For a moment, you let yourself believe that she and the town had been right; that this whole thing was God’s plan; that the Horsemen had come; that they could be saved, but you would be condemned.

Then . . . you began to wonder if you had already been. Maybe it was the blow to the head you’d taken or the fever raging through your body or maybe it was the truth, but you began to believe that perhaps this was your purgatory; perhaps you had died in that hoard and you’d been sent here; perhaps the beautiful man beside you was Death himself.

Was this it then? Were you always meant to see him at the end?

Oddly enough, he reminded you of this small dog your sister had found near one of the abandoned houses your family had stayed in over the years. This was during Famine’s rule—when food became sparse, when lands became stale and yellowed; when the dead had only just begun to migrate south. This tiny dog found your younger sister then, and she’d brought it home, leaving you no choice but to care for the little thing.

Your sister had named her Berry. (A few months later you had to put her down; it was what we had to do to survive, you’d told your sister back then. You were sure it was then she first started to hate you.)

And as you stared at Death, taking note of how his eyes were a particular shade of brown, you realized they were the same shade that the silly dog had.

You tilted your head. Death somehow had eyes that were kind; eyes that were warm; eyes that reminded you of Felix. Was that how they planned to transfix you? Was Death meant to be this beautiful; this familiar so you’d go willingly? Had God forgotten you’d already condemned yourself? Had he forgotten you didn’t need to be tricked? Had he forgotten where your prayers resided?

Only a moment later, when you felt his hands running over your torso, did you snap out of your exhaust-ridden daze. You realized quickly he was cleaning the last of your wounds which resided on your ribs. And when he was done, he tossed the washcloth into the bowl without another care before he slowly leaned back, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched you with scrutinizing eyes.

Death narrowed his gaze, but it wasn’t menacing this time. Rather, he seemed almost perplexed. "Why aren’t you fighting?" he questioned. "You didn’t stop to run before. Why calm your fire now?"

Why aren’t you fighting?

The thing was: it was over. Your fight was over.

Sure, you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Death was painfully beautiful . . . but it went beyond that.

It was surely daylight by now.

Daylight had come, hours had passed, and Death had you in his hold.

By now, Felix had probably taken your mother and sister onto the road again. They’d escaped, and they were miles and miles away from you and Death. They were safe.

So . . . where was your fight?

You didn’t have one anymore. This was the end. Death would either kill you or make you suffer again and again and again, and your family would live. You’d once told yourself that you never wanted to live in a world like this, but you’d kept yourself alive to protect your family. Only now . . . you didn’t need to fight because there wasn’t anyone left for you to protect.

Your fight was over. Maybe you could rest now. Maybe he’d let you.

Death seemed to catch onto the shift in your demeanor as he narrowed his eyes. "Do you not speak?"

For a moment, you considered not replying. Until: "There's no point," you heard yourself say, voice dry and hoarse.

The look on Death’s face was unreadable as his eyes shifted across your face, his mouth slightly parted. "You smell of death," he muttered, gaze still searching your being.

And you almost laughed.

Because this was your end, and Death himself just told you that you smelled like shit or well . . . like him, you supposed . . . apparently.

It all felt a little unreal.

Death must not have liked your silence as he shot you one last glance before he pulled away and walked toward a table on the other side of the room. As he walked, you caught sight of the blood painting his body, his skin, him.

You swallowed hard. You’d brought that hoard to him. He’d fought his way out. You’d caused those wounds, and now he was more than likely going to do worse to you. He’d probably take that scythe you were told he carried and cut your head clean off.

But unlike what you thought, Death sifted through the miscellaneous items on the table before pausing and grabbing a small knife. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched him approach you, knife in hand.

There it was.

This was the end you were promised.

Was he going to slit your throat and leave you to bleed out? Or cut you open so you could see just how dark your heart had become? You wouldn’t put it past him. Hell, you might have even welcomed it. But as he approached you, your eyes closing in anticipation, he did not bring that knife down upon your body. No, instead, with a few quick motions and the sound of the rope being cut, you slowly opened your eyes just as your hands were released from the rope’s grip.

On instinct, you brought your hands close to your chest, rubbing your raw wrists. You couldn’t even speak, you just watched as he kept the knife in his hand but returned back to his position of leaning back against the chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on you.

"You're human," you found yourself uttering as you watched him watch you.

His brows twitched in confusion. "Of course I am.”

But Death couldn’t bleed. . . . Could he?

"You bleed,” you spoke your thoughts, dumbly.

His eyes met yours, but only briefly. "Am I not meant to?" he bit out before his gaze fell back on your hand rubbing your wrist. "Even the dead bleed."

Your confusion only spiraled. This was your end; your purgatory. This was Death, was he not? Your mother had been right. She had to have been right otherwise you were still alive; otherwise, you had managed to escape death once again without so much as a punishment. That wouldn’t be fair. That wouldn’t be right. That wouldn’t be just.

This had to be Death. You had to be dead or somewhere in between. It didn’t matter, this just had to be your end.

So, why hadn’t he condemned you yet?

Why—

"Why—” Death interrupted your thoughts, once you finally dropped your hand from your wrist— “did you think I couldn’t bleed?"

You glanced his way, finding his eyes already on you.

His stare only unnerved you more.

Why couldn’t he just kill you? You deserved it.

Your brows furrowed. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to play with your food?" you found yourself spitting out, finally finding your voice despite his devasting beauty capturing your words. "I put your lives in danger. I lead them here like you said. I could be with anyone. Having me here could kill you all, so take your revenge. Kill me."

The crease between his brows deepened further. "I'm not letting you die," he simply said, his anger quiet and calm . . . still. “You put my group in harm's way. I won’t pardon you for that . . . but . . . we don’t kill the living.”

That only unnerved you further.

Was this truly Death?

Surely he had killed before.

Although . . . you supposed perhaps he’d only just ever waited. Was that his fault? Waiting for the dead to find him? Is that how he found you in those woods? Is that how he’d taken your arm and helped you crossover to the other side? But . . . if that were true . . . where was your father now? Surely, he would’ve come to see you. Surely, he would’ve been the first one knocking at your door. Surely, he’d be here.

As you briefly wet your lips, your eyes flicked up to meet his. “Where’s my dad?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

A look of deep confusion twisted onto Death’s face, and then he was leaning forward to feel your forehead with the back of his hand. “Fever,” he mumbled more to himself before he pushed himself to his feet, the chair screeching against the floor. “Get some rest. Someone will be in to bandage you up and . . . I’ll be back in a couple hours with medication.” His gaze dropped to the large gash on your arm from just a few nights ago. “When you’re healed, we’ll give you some supplies and then you’ll be on your way, understood?”

But you just stared at him, silently pleading. Pleading for what? You didn’t know. All you knew was if your father wasn’t here, you couldn’t be dead. And if you weren’t, you wanted to be. You’d be able to find him then, because although you were no longer a girl who could kneel in church, you could still feel the scabs on your knees from years ago; you could still remember what it was to believe so blindly; you could still feel that insistent desire for there to be something beyond this world . . . something after this world.

There just had to be. You had to see him again. You had to find him.

You could die now. You could find him now. You would find him.

“Great,” Death muttered under his breath, breaking you out of your own mind. And with one final glance at your exhausted body, he began to turn and head for the door.

Fear struck you then. You had to find your father. “Wait, please—” you hastily grabbed onto his arm, only being able to reach his hand enough to dig your nails into his skin to halt him— “I beg of you.”

His eyes snapped to yours, wide and cautious as if at any moment, one wrong move and he’d grant your wishes. And all you could do was hope.

“Kill me,” you weakly whispered, hopelessly searching his eyes.

His brows twitched, taken back.

“Death,” you begged in a whisper, your bottom lip trembling, “please.”

But Death only stared back at you with a perplexing look written across his face. It was as if he couldn’t believe your request. Had no one ever begged him to die?

A heavy beat of silence pounded in your ears.

Death only continued to stare, a world raging on behind his eyes as he took you in. His demeanor was still calm, still collected, but he seemed . . . perturbed by your request, by your presence, by you. And you watched as his eyes trickled across your face, searching for something until finally . . . his gaze zeroed in on your cheek, his brows furrowing.

Then . . . you felt it.

A tear had slowly begun to slip down your cheek as if your body knew it was a sin to cry. But you were . . . crying that was.

You nearly gasped.

Another tear trickled down your cheek. Guilt followed.

But just as you were about to angrily wipe it away, there was a sharp knock at the door, breaking both you and Death out of your spell. The door opened a second later, a man peaking his head in with a solemn look on his face.

The man didn’t spare you a glance, he only cleared his throat and said, “Chris?” His brows raised, a silent message passing between the two. “A minute.”

Death only nodded, and then the man was gone, the door shutting behind him. Silence followed, but Death stayed unmoving, his arm still in your tight grasp.

“You won’t run,” he slowly spoke, his words a statement, not an order, but he didn’t turn to look at you. He kept his eyes on the door. “I don’t kill the living. I won’t kill you.” He paused, audibly swallowing, and then his eyes were on you. “And I know you won’t kill us.”

And then he was gone before you could blink, quickly tearing his arm out of your grasp before he reached the door and closed it behind him. You were alone with yourself once again, your thoughts running wild as your hand remained outstretched, almost frozen in place.

I know you won’t kill us, he’d told you.

But how could you kill Death? How did he know you wouldn’t if he didn’t give you what you wanted? How could he be so sure that you weren’t a killer, when you so clearly were?

You had killed before, and if he didn’t take you to the other side, you’d surely kill again. That was who you had become. That was who you were. He should’ve known that.

And then as you slowly laid your head back onto the pillow and allowed the minutes to tick by, the throbbing in your head began to subside, and the world became a little clearer. You were no longer a girl who could kneel in church. You did not believe anymore. The world had gone to shit, and it wasn’t because of God’s plan. There were no Horsemen. Your family was gone. And that . . . that man had not been Death.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you swallowed thickly. What was happening to you?

It all hit you then.

These were a group of survivors. That man surely was their leader, and you had just led hundreds of the dead to their doorstep. They should’ve killed you for that alone. You would’ve. You wouldn’t even hesitate if this had been your family. You would’ve done everything to keep them safe, even if it meant killing others, and yet . . .

I won’t kill you.

But why? You deserved it. You could see it in his eyes that he knew.

These were good people. And you were their bad omen.

It wouldn’t be long before your presence brought misery upon them, too, just as it had to your family. And it’d be all your fault.

You’d live, only to see many die. You’d make it out unscathed just as you always had, while they’d suffer, just as he had said.

It was then you realized this was not your purgatory, it was your Hell.

taglist:

@amaranth-writing @binchanluvrr @dreamingsmile @eternalrajin

(i did post the teaser like a year ago, so if you want to be taken off, send me a lil message <3)

#🥀🐺 chan #to read

400 notes · View notes

leeminho-hall · 1 month

Text

THE EXPERIENCE PROJECT | EP. 6 SIXTH SENSE

— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —

“It doesn’t even matter that you broke the contract.”

“Why?”

“Rule number five. Don’t fall in love with each other. I broke the contract from the start, Y/N,” he says.

[ abstract ]: Hyunjin—your long time crush—finally wants to ask you out. One small issue: you’re absolutely inexperienced regarding that matter. Going on dates and, yes, also everything physical. Gladly, Minho—your long time enemy who is part of your friend group—is there to help, teaching you all you need to know. Going on dates and, yes, also everything physical. All while he dearly hopes you won’t find out about the crush he has had on you for years.

[ general ]: minho + fem reader, [ hyunjin + fem reader ], enemies → lovers, college au, smut + angst + fluff, experienced minho, virgin reader, sunshine x grumpy, he falls first but she falls harder, please refer to series m.list for more info

[ warning ]: suggestive content [ semi-public encounters at a party, make out session, marking ], quick mention of weed [ jisung ], cigarette smoking [ jisung again], consumption of alcohol, mention of cheating, jealousy

[ words ]: 7.4K

[ note ]: thank you agaaain for everything. here is the next part and it's getting very angsty :( I hope you like it and if that's the case, I'm always endlessly happy about your feedback, no matter if reblogs, comments or asks. love you all xx !!

You wake up clinging to someone. Perhaps, you must have fallen asleep on the couch with Felix again. This happens quite often, especially during busier weeks like this one. You pull him closer, your eyes still closed, as your arms and legs stay wrapped around his form. Then you hear the birds singing. They sound extraordinarily loud today. Weird. You’ve probably left the window open.

“Y/N.”

Felix’s voice sounds different today as well.

“Hey, princess, you should wake up. We need to pack our stuff and head back home. The other ones are already waiting for us.”

Your eyes immediately shoot open. You’re cuddling with Minho. You must have fallen asleep with him last night. Together in a tent.

This wasn’t part of the contract, right?

His soft smile fills your vision but out of reflex you quickly let go off his body. “Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

This feels domestic. A little too domestic for your hopeless heart. Lee Minho shouldn’t be the one to cause butterflies to roam around in your stomach. Certainly not this early in the morning either. So, all you do is nod, as you try to avoid his gaze at its best.

“I’m gonna head to the washroom and take a shower, yeah?”

When he notices there’s no much reaction coming from you, Minho lets go and gets up. He dearly hopes he didn’t go too far with anything. After all, you’ve been the one to cuddle with him all night, sticking to him like glue. Perhaps, you’re overwhelmed. Falling asleep together wasn’t part of the plan, he knows that. And as if the worries caused by last night weren’t already enough, he’s also being plagued by the fact that your crush asked Minho’s sister out on a date. He needs to tell you but he fears he won’t be able to do it.

Once he is outside, you allow your mind to take a break from all this. Why did it feel so good—not just last night’s encounter but also sleeping in one tent together? You're aware that you’ve crossed so many lines by now regarding the contract and definitely when it comes to Hyunjin too. You feel like a cheater, absolutely sick of yourself.

“Y/N?”

Now you recognise this voice, “Yeah Lix?”

“Can I come in?” You allow him to enter the tent and he greets you, asking you if you slept well and all. “Everything okay?”

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know, Felix. I’m just… confused.”

“Is that something new?”

You shove your pillow into his side but let out a laugh.

“Sorry. Why are you feeling this way?” he questions again.

You sigh, “I’m… I went to the flea market yesterday with Hyunjin. On a date. At least I think so. We held hands and kissed and all. Then he bought me a necklace. It’s pretty, I can’t deny that but he also noticed how a different necklace caught my eye. One that’s more of my style, if you will.”

Repeating what happened yesterday makes you cringe a little. It suddenly feels as if Hyunjin and you aren’t quite compatible, if you think about it. But you don’t want to think that way. Not if you’ve held onto the idea for so long that him and you could become a couple. He’s the man of your dreams, right?

“He’s a man… a very heterosexual man, don’t expect much from him,” Felix says.

You chuckle, but start again, “That’s what I thought too. He thinks from his perspective but still wanted to do something to bring a smile to my face. But then we went camping and… suddenly Minho gave me this.” You bring out the accessories your so-called enemy granted you. “This is the one I was looking at. It matches the earrings I wore the other day when he was at our place. I’m… I don’t know what to do, Lix.”

Felix nods. You can’t quite read his expression. “Hmm, yeah, I get that. Well, it’s pretty obvious.”

“What?”

“Hyunjin is an idiot and Minho and you should get together,” he explains, clapping his hands.

Your eyes widen, “The fuck are you talking about?”

“You heard me. He obviously has feelings for you and the fact that you spent your whole last week with him without getting into a fight once—at least I suppose you haven’t—tells me enough. Well, you’re idiots too. But idiots in love,” he adds, a bright smile all over his face as if he’s talking about a fairytale. Because that’s what it is. Wishful thinking. Nothing more.

Wait, what?

Why are you in your head referring to it like something positive? How could your whole perspective about Minho change within five days? Well, to be fair at this point, you’ve never hated him. You’ve only disliked him because he’s done nothing but tease you for these past three and a half years.

“I’m not in love with him, how many more times do you want me to tell you?”

“I don’t care what you tell me or if you lie to me. But you should always be honest to yourself and, most importantly, to Minho,” Felix explains.

And his words sting. Because they are so unbelievably full of truth that it hurts. He’s right. You won’t be able to ignore it longer that you have to face your feelings.

“What about Hyunjin? Do you love him?” Felix asks now.

This question seems even more complicated. You’ve always thought you do. Because he’s been your crush for years, right? Your first kiss. Your first love. He should be your first boyfriend too.

But then again, he’s been making you wait for over half a year now and the necklace situation has left you even more confused.

“Y-Yeah… I mean, I’ve had a crush on him for years,” you reply. “I shouldn’t give up now, right?”

Felix chuckles, “Y/N… relationships don’t work like your college degree and exams do. If you don’t have feelings for him anymore you don’t have to get together with him.”

“I’m… just confused. I don’t know what I feel or what I want,” you admit. And it’s the first time you’re completely honest not only to your best friend but also to yourself.

“You know what? Maybe tonight will bring you some knowledge. You’ll see them together and perhaps your heart will be able to make a decision,” he suggests, patting your head.

You smile. “Maybe you’re right… thank you, Lixie.”

“Not for that, my dear,” he reassures you. You know you can always count on Felix. You’re so glad that he’s helping you with this whole dilemma. It shouldn’t be taken for granted that he just accepted the mess you’ve created and didn’t judge you like you had expected. But now you need to know more about his love life.

“By the way,” you start again, wiggling your eyebrows, “you and Changbin? Any news?”

He giggles, while scratching the back of his head, “Yeah, actually. We’re… well, turns out we’ve been on the same page this whole time so… he’s my boyfriend now.”

You squeal, “That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you, Y/N. I’ll tell you everything once we’re home, yeah? We should get ready now.”

Minho knows that it’s inevitable. Sooner or later he needs to get some advice and it seems as if the only person that’s possibly able to help him is Jisung. Which means he’s basically doomed. No offense to his best friend, but he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to solve this dilemma. But Minho has known from the start what he’s getting himself into, after all. It all started out so innocently. Well, no, that’s a lie. He was aware that it’d mess with his head and heart at some point.

So, now he finds himself in his apartment, having Jisung over for lunch, desperately trying to figure out what he should do.

“Ji?”

They’re sitting on the balcony, his best friend has a cigarette between his index and middle finger while Minho tries to escape the smoke.

“Yeah, bro?”

“Could I ask you for advice?”

Jisung shifts in his seat, “Me? You sure that’s a good idea, man?”

Minho snickers and so does his friend, “Fair point. No, but… I feel like you’re the only one who I can talk to about this.”

“Oh, I don’t have any weed with me, but I can head back home and sell you a few grams–“

“No, you idiot. It’s not about that. Just listen for a second,” Minho tells the other one, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, okay, princess,” his best friend jokingly replies, holding his hands up high as if he’s been arrested, unaware of the fact what this unserious pet name evokes inside his friend’s head that gets reminded of none other than you again.

“It’s something… about Y/N,” he lets out.

“You’ve still got a crush on her?”

Minho sighs, “Yeah… unfortunately.” He’s avoiding Jisung’s gaze or, well, anything that can be avoided, including his own feelings although speaking about it helps.

“Hm, with Hyunjin being back and all… I get it,” his best friend says, nodding.

How’s Minho gonna explain things? How’s he supposed to present this whole shitshow that he’s put himself into willingly and now is facing the consequences of?

“I think I made a mistake,” he starts.

“What? You’re Lee Minho. Mistakes aren’t part of your life.”

Minho takes a deep breath. “Last Sunday, no… do you remember when we met at her and Felix’s place last weekend?”

“Hm, I do,” the younger one replies.

“And you proposed that she should practice dating and sex with someone in order to get more experience for Hyunjin?”

Jisung’s eyes are widening, he’s shaking his head, already wondering what Minho is trying to tell him, “Oh, Min… where the fuck is this leading to?”

“Well, I offered it to her,” he admits.

His best friend bursts out in laughter, “You’re such an idiot. And now she thinks you’re an idiot too. Wait that’s nothing–“

“She accepted my offer. We made up some weird contract and have been messing around since then. Behind Hyunjin’s back. No one knows, well, except for you now,” Minho explains.

Jisung’s cigarette falls down, luckily landing in the ashtray, and for a minute his mouth stays parted and he seems paralysed.

“Ji? You okay?”

“Okay?! You ask me if I’m okay? After you tell me that you’ve been sleeping with the girl who you’ve been in love with for years? And you didn’t tell me?”

“She and I agreed to not tell anyone, it’s part of the contract,” Minho explains, as if this would make the situation itself any better.

“Which you just broke. Did you for real make a contract?”

“Yes,” he repeats, speaking through gritted teeth.

“I don’t even wanna know what else is in there, perhaps what positions you are gonna try– yikes, I’ll stop myself,” Jisung’s says, shaking his head.

“Shut the fuck up, you simp,” Minho counters.

The younger one’s arms are crossed in front of his chest. “I’m not a simp.”

“‘If you excuse me, I need to play video games now, smoke some weed and cry like a real man like God intended,’” he quotes his friend dramatically.

“Who told you that?”

“Y/N,” Minho chuckles.

“Ugh, you’re besties now, aren’t you?”

“We’re not,” he replies. “That’s the thing, she’s still head over heels for Hyunjin and… well, I thought this time would be different, I felt as if she was falling for me too but I guess that’s just wishful thinking, right?”

“Dude, listen,” Jisung starts, leaning forward, as he stubs out the cigarette properly, “she’s never been with a guy before. All she’d done up until then was give Hyunjin a little peck, that’s it. You invite her over, immediately gain her trust and within less than a week she allows you, no, encourages you to do things together that she wasn’t ready for in over twenty years…”

“Yeah but… in order to ‘study’ for her dates with Hyunjin…”

Jisung takes a deep breath, before his elbows come in contact with the wooden table, as he’s correcting his posture. “Has there been some moment where it felt like it wasn’t because of him?”

“Yeah… uhm, we fell asleep together last night in the tent and when I woke up she was clinging onto me,” Minho says.

“Well, Y/N is a person that likes cuddling.”

Don’t destroy the moment I thought I had with her.

“How do you know?”

“Felix,” Jisung says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Hm, okay.”

Minho tries to not show the emotions that are currently bubbling up inside his stomach but he does the worst job at it.

Jisung sighs, “Bro, seriously, don’t be jealous of him. He’s literally got his own boyfriend.”

“Sorry, you’re right,” he replies, knowing his best friend is speaking the truth.

“So, were there other situations?”

“It felt… it sometimes felt as if… when we were intimate as if she’s doing this to be with me.” Because that’s what it has been feeling like. He doesn’t want to believe that it was all fake. “Apart from that, we spent lots of time together just talking. As if we’re friends. And I keep wondering why we haven’t been close before.”

“Well, you idiot have been busy ignoring and annoying her,” Jisung tells him.

Minho scoots closer, “To make it easier for me, Han. Because this was the only way to have her near me without losing my mind and breaking my own heart.”

“But… It's been three years… Hyunjin and her have only been whatever the hell they are for like a year. I mean the flirting and all.”

Thanks for digging the knife in the wound, Jisung.

“I know. But… partly, I was just too scared to admit that I like her. You know I don’t have that much experience either which makes this even more ridiculous. I’ve only ever slept with one woman in my life, Areum–“

“Please put a trigger warning: Areum next time,” Jisungs cuts him off.

Minho rolls his eyes, “Anyway, I’ve only ever slept with one woman in my life and propose the idea of teaching Y/N as if I’m extraordinarily good at this.”

“I realise we’re all losers in this friend group,” Jisung lets out, reaching inside his jeans’ pocket to fish out another cigarette from the box.

“There’s a big difference between me proposing to my crush that I can help with her lack in experience and you chatting to imaginary girls on Discord,” Minho says.

“Fuck you. She’s real, okay? She just got shy and that’s why she cancelled the camping trip.”

Jisung places the cigarette between his lips and guides the lighter to the tip.

“Apart from that, Felix has a boyfriend now and Hyunjin… has everyone with a working pulse surrounding him as if he’s some Greek God,” Minho explains.

His best friend takes a drag, “That doesn’t make him less of a loser.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Lee Minho,” Jisung scolds him.

“Don’t use my full name, bro.”

The younger one rolls his eyes, “What I’m trying to say is… Hyunjin didn’t go on the camping trip for whatever reason. Y/N went there, fully knowing you’d be in a tent with her. She could have stayed home with him too. But she decided to be with you that night.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I'm saying is… Hyunjin has been here for some days and confessed to her before he went to Paris. Yet, they still aren’t together and she rather spends time with you, using the excuse of some made up contract. Dude, she likes you back if you haven’t noticed. Even I noticed that night you visited us and pretended I forgot something at your place. I see her eyes light up whenever she’s on the phone and she hasn’t even mentioned Hyunjin’s name once since he’s been back,” he tells him and Minho dearly wants to believe that this is all true.

Then, another much more complicated thought hits him.

“There’s something else…”

“What is it?”

“My sister told me–“

Jisung opens his mouth, trying to interrupt his best friend but Minho shushes his hands away, “No, I will not put a trigger warning for my own sister, you piece of cabbage.”

“You’re so random.”

“Pay attention, Jisung. It’s important,” he tells him.

“Sorry, baby,” his best friend adds with a wink.

“My sister texted me last night and said that Hyunjin asked her out on a date,” Minho explains.

“What the fuck?! Where the hell is Hyunjin, I’m ready to throw some fists–“

“Stop it, this won’t help us,” he reminds him.

“As much as I despise your sister, even I feel sorry for her now. What a piece of shit. And… fuck, does Y/N know?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Minho says. “She seemed a little off this morning but I thought it was rather because she didn’t plan on cuddling her enemy in her sleep.”

“I think you passed that stage and entered the lovers' level some days ago,” Jisung teases him.

“Not the point. What the hell am I gonna do?”

“Tell her. You obviously tell her,” Jisung insists, as if this is the only option. Because in his mind it is. Minho should be truthful with you even if he might hurt you in the process but this is all Hyunjin’s fault and not his best friend’s.

“What if she doesn’t believe me?”

“You can’t control what she will believe in. But if you truly care about her you tell her. This isn’t even about you and her and whatever the hell your relationship is–“

“Entirely business related.”

Jisung laughs, “Yeah, sure. But if you want to be her friend or even more, you tell her. She deserves more. And you deserve her too.

“I doubt it,” Minho says, drowning in self-pity.

“Stop it, I’ve always told you that you two would make the perfect match,” Jisung reminds him.

Minho scoffs, “Yeah, because you’re a good judge when it comes to romance.”

“I’m not, I know. But you’re both my best friends. If you trust me you will tell her. I can even help you if you want,” he offers.

“That would be great, Ji.”

“Of course. Anything else I need to know?”

“Yes but you will be mad at me for not telling you sooner,” Minho admits.

Jisung’s done with the back and fourth. If he wants to help his best friend properly he needs to know the whole story to this.

“Spit it out, bro,” he encourages him.

“It’s… two days before Hyunjin left for Paris, he came to me and told me he overheard you saying that I have a crush on Y/N.”

Jisung scratches his head, “Whoops, I don’t remember.”

“I don’t care. Even if you accidentally spilled it, this is not what I want to talk about,” Minho brings back the focus to what’s really important right now.

“What is it?”

“He started a conversation about it with me and I confessed that it’s true. Then he told me that he’s got a crush on her too and will be telling her about her feelings before he leaves. I told him that this would be pretty useless and mean since they wouldn’t be seeing each other for half a year,” the older one explains.

“Fair point. I know how much Y/N suffered and it just made me hate Hyunjin more,” Jisung’s says, nodding, before he puts out the cigarette.

“I know. The thing is, he became a bit angry then and overly dramatic and said he’s just doing it so… so I don’t have any chance and she falls in love with me instead,” Minho repeats the toxic shit that Hyunjin demanded of him over half a year ago.

“What a bastard. I’m sorry, Min, I’m absolutely peaceful but I can’t promise to not–“

“No violence,” he interrupts him.

“Who are you and what have you done to Lee Minho?”

“Funny. So, are you gonna help me… peacefully?”

“You can count on me,” Jisung says with a wink.

Meeting up in a café with Areum wasn’t exactly how you expected your Saturday afternoon to go, but then again you really have to repeat some of the files of your classes and she spontaneously asked you. It seems as if she really does want to be your friend but you’re still not entirely sure if you trust her. She’s nice, sure, very kind to you too and when she asks you how your day has been it feels as if she genuinely means it and expects an honest answer because she cares.

“I can absolutely repeat it again, Y/N, there’s no issue,” she says, sipping on her flat white, while the two of you go through this specific page again. “The topic isn’t easy, after all. But you’re doing a great job.”

You feel like a bad person for having an issue with how kind Areum is. But something tells you that it could be a pretense. On the other side, perhaps you’re highly misjudging her here and she’s actually just a warm-hearted person.

“Okay, if it’s no issue for you.”

“I will help you with the tasks of our lecture and after this I can ask you for some boy-advice, later?”

You don’t feel qualified enough for this position but you can still always try, right? You’ve kept wondering who Areum’s crush is over these past days, even coming up with the idea that it could be Hyunjin which would be awful. Although you’re not even sure you want to be with him anymore. As long as she’s not into Minho, everything’s fine. The thought of them together makes your stomach turn and the fact he did all those things he does with you also with her before the contract and when they were still a couple makes you sad. As pathetic as it sounds.

Fuck, are you seriously jealous? No. Absolutely not. It’s just… because you’re comparing yourself and it makes you insecure in your own… skills. It definitely has nothing to do with your feelings for–

“Good idea, Areum,” you manage to bring your focus back. Your new friend explains the exercise to you once more and on the sixth try you finally grasp it. She’s patient, genuinely wanting you to understand this topic and you must admit you’re glad to have her in your life.

“Thank you, seriously,” you tell her, sipping on your strawberry matcha latte. Yes. They added this drink to the menu, thanks to spring finally being around the corner.

“So… could I speak to you about something?”

You nod, reaching for another one of the cookies the two of you ordered. Areum even invited you. You wonder if this has something to do with her possible guilty conscience.

“Of course,” you encourage her.

She bites her lower lip. “I’ve told you I have a crush on someone, right? Nothing has happened so far between the two of us and I am very sure that there won’t be a future either. At least not from my side.”

“Why’s that?” you ask, wondering what’s behind it.

“Well… I found out that… he’s not that serious about it. We met at the semester opening part—I think I told you—made out but nothing more happened. Then he told me it’s nothing serious. He’s actually already seeing someone. However, yesterday, I think some time during the late evening hours, he texted me again,” she explains.

“What did he say?”

“He asked me out on a date. It was weird. Random. I don’t know, he was probably drunk or something but I haven’t replied. And I don’t think I will. This guy is such a red flag and I’m glad it was just a crush and not more,” Areum adds.

God. This is awful. What a piece of shit.

“I’m so sorry, Areum… what an idiot,” you tell her, meaning it. She doesn’t deserve this. No one does.

“Well, I should have thought this through more before making out with him, right?”

You instantly shake your head, reaching for her hands, “Don’t put the blame on yourself!”

She chuckles, “I hope your man that you are dating right now treats you well, though, otherwise I promise that he won’t have any more happy days coming in his life.”

“Areum, I wasn’t aware you had so much… petty energy inside you,” you tease her.

“Probably Minho’s effect.” She shrugs her shoulders, before she takes another cookie. “You wanna tell me more about your crush, Y/N?”

Without revealing the whole contract of getting tutored about sex by Areum’s ex-boyfriend, it could probably be a good idea to talk to her about Hyunjin. Get a perspective from another woman and all.

“Well… we went on a date, we kissed. But… I didn’t feel any sparkle, I don’t know. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” you tell her. Because it’s the truth.

“Maybe you fell in love with the idea of him,” she says and you know that she’s right. Deep down you are aware of that yourself. But you don’t wanna let go of it.

“Perhaps… but, you know, Hyunjin is one of my closest friends too so it would be awkward if we end things,” you add, not even noticing that you just dropped your crush’s name all casually.

Her eyes are widening, “Hyunjin? Hwang Hyunjin?”

“Yeah, him… why?”

She parts her mouth, before her hand fly up to her head and you can observe her contemplating what to say next. Areum takes a deep breath before she confesses, “Fuck, darling, I’m so sorry but Hyunjin is the guy I was complaining about.”

No.

This can’t be true.

Hyunjin is also dating Areum? Well not dating, but doing enough with her to make you jealous.

Should you believe her? You’re still unsure if you can trust Areum. Maybe the party will reveal more.

When Minho enters Hyunjin’s apartment, the place is already crowded. It smells like alcohol and cigarettes and he wonders what has happened to his good friend that used to be as introverted as him. Right. Paris. And probably one summer weekend in Saint Tropez. He wouldn’t be surprised.

Minho greets everyone he knows, handing the host a bottle of some drink and Hyunjin thanks him. A minute later he sees Jisung, quite surprised his best friend actually showed up considering the fact he can’t stand Hyunjin—which was only worsened since he told him about the whole background story regarding you.

You. Right. Minho should search and find you. He lets his eyes roam around in the room, seeing anyone but you. Hyunjin offers him a drink—Somaek with a way too high amount of soju—which he accepts as he makes his way through the living room.

And then he catches a glimpse of you. You’re as beautiful as you always are. Your hair is half-up, showing off your neck that he’s enjoyed kissing so much these past days. Your makeup is stunning like it always is. He gets a bit closer, wanting to say hello to you and then he notices it.

The necklace. And the matching earrings. Grapes are dangling from your ears and decorating your chest. Absolutely astonishing.

Until he realises who you’re talking to.

What the fuck is she doing here?

You’re in the middle of a conversation with none other than his ex-girlfriend, Areum. Since when did you two end up being friends and do you know that she and Minho used to be a couple? Fuck, he sure hope it’s not the case. And if it turns out to be reality, Minho prays that you aren’t aware of all the things he did wrong in his past relationship caused by immaturity. He regrets it, sometimes, how he didn’t show Areum the affection that she deserved but he can’t turn back time and he for sure can’t create feelings where there aren’t any.

“It’s time for a drinking game,” Minho hears Yeonjun—one of his and Hyunjin’s friends from dance practice—shout through the living room.

And that’s how he finds himself sitting in a circle with a handful of Hyunjin’s closest friends, ready to participate in a game of Spin The Bottle. Well, not ready, but what’s he supposed to do? Stand in the corner and perhaps watch you kiss your crush? Absolutely not. You’re Minho’s. He’s said thought it before. Hopefully, he can show you tonight where the truth lies.

“Everyone ready?” Felix asks and starts the first round.

The game is going alright, nothing much extraordinary happening. The rounds pass by, some people spend seven minutes in heaven Hyunjin’s storage room as if you’re still in high school. Minho’s been zoned out for some time now, not really paying attention, until the bottle that’s spinning around on the floor points at you.

“Y/N,” Jisung says, teasing you before he absolutely obviously looks at Minho but he ignores it.

Yeonjun gives the bottle another nudge and Minho observes the turns the object does until it comes to a halt. Now directed at himself.

“Oh, enemies to lovers, huh?” someone in the distance says. It’s no secret that you two don’t get along although these past days say something different.

Minho finds your gaze and you’re already getting up, before he follows you to the storage room. On his way, he notices how Hyunjin’s jaw is clenched and it lets a mischievous smirk erupt on Minho’s face. Still, he knows he will use these seven minutes for something else. He needs to tell you about what happened.

You get inside the cramped room and Minho locks the door behind you. You look confused, overwhelmed to say the least. After all, you’re still trying to figure out what your head wants although your heart has already chosen. And being here in this place with Minho together because some bottle pointed at the both of you during some dumb game is just another sign for you to finally catch the truth.

You’re ready to talk to him about it. Tell him how you feel. Until Minho speaks first.

“Hyunjin asked my sister out on a date.”

Your face falls. “What?”

“Yeah… she texted me last night,” he adds.

This can’t be true. Your whole world stops. Although you’re not surprised. This can’t be real.

“I… I don’t believe you.” Correction: you don’t want to believe him. First, Areum says something similar and now Minho’ sister is asked out by your crush too? Why would she even tell her brother about this?

“What?”

“Yes… I don’t believe you. I’m sure you just made that up to make fun of me,” you lie.

“Make fun of you?”

“Yeah… you don’t like me after all,” you say, knowing this isn’t true.

Minhos jaw clenches, before he gets closer to you, cageing you between the shelves behind you and his body. You gulp and your heart skips a beat.

“Are you even listening to yourself? What the fuck has this last week proven, hm? Would I sleep in a tent with someone that I hate? Buy them a fucking necklace that reminds me of them? Make food for them? Kiss them, touch them?”

“I’m sorry, that was unreasonable. I’m sorry, Min,” you instantly take back what you said.

His mood immediately shifts, “It’s okay, princess. I get it. I told you this because you deserve the truth, yeah?”

Can he stop being so… considerate? You’re trying to not lose your mind because there’s a high chance that you have fallen in love with your enemy, Lee Minho.

But this isn’t even the focus inside your head right now. Your heart has been shattered into a million pieces. Hyunjin didn’t only ask out Areum—who you do believe now—but also other girls?

“It’s… it’s not like I’m surprised. But why does he go after your sister and your ex girlfriend? Have you ever made him mad or what’s his fucking problem?”

Minho's eyebrows are scrunched together, “You know about Areum?”

Oh, fuck. Right, he wasn’t aware that his ex and you are close.

“Yeah… we have classes together. Kinda became friends. She’s nice. I… I get why you would date her,” you say, not knowing why you add that last sentence. Well, deep down you do know. You’re jealous. But you’re not ready for this conversation yet.

“Areum and I are over, that’s in the past,” he tells you.

“I-I know, Min,” you say, trying to push those insecurities away.

“Hey, look at me,” he tells you.

“Yeah?”

Two fingers are under your chin, as he tilts your head upwards so your gaze meets his own. “I don’t want you to make those sad faces, especially not when it’s about an idiot like Hyunjin.”

An idea appears inside your head.

“Why can’t… no, never mind.”

You need him close, it’s not rational you know that. But you want to forget about Hyunjin and you want to be with Minho, although you’re not ready yet to confess.

“What is it, hm?”

“Can you… can you make me forget about all this for a second? If it’s not too selfish that I’m asking… just a kiss, perhaps,” you ask.

He chuckles, before he gets closer, “Anything for you, Y/N.”

Minho doesn’t even care if you’re thinking about Hyunjin. Because his love for you has never been about himself, it’s been about you. He wants to see you happy and he wants to be the one responsible for this. In the end, it’ll all work out. That he is sure of.

His lips crash into your own, sealing them in a heated kiss. The sparkles are there everywhere, before they turn into fireworks. No, that’s not even enough. You can see a fucking supernova whenever he kisses you. The fact you’ve doubted your feelings for him is ridiculous. And he can’t hold back either, Minho starts drawing the prettiest pattern on your neck, when his lips linger over them, kissing and biting since he can’t get enough of you.

You feel his hardened dick pressed against your stomach showing you once again how easy it is for you to have an effect on him. He wanders further, making it his mission to let everyone know that you are his and not Hyunjin’s.

You let him. You don’t care about any consequences anymore when you’re with him. The whole world should know that you’ve always belonged to him.

When he lets go for a second and his eyes meet your own, something sparks inside your heart, “Minho, I think I’m in–“

“Seven minutes are over,” you hear from outside.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Let’s talk later, yeah?” Minho offers, smiling brightly because he already knows or hopes that you are gonna confess to him.

You get back to the group, sitting down and ignoring that a few suspicious eyes are hovering over the marks on your neck. When you catch a glimpse of Minho, you see that smirk on his face again and it makes you smile too.

“Okay, let’s spin the bottle,” Felix announces before he gives it a little nudge. The item is directed towards Hyunjin. You instantly hope that you won’t be the chosen one again—you dearly can’t take any more attention from anyone and the idea of kissing him makes your stomach turn.

The bottle spins around again and again until it points to Minho.

“I think a little make out session in front of us would be nice, wouldn’t it?” someone says.

“I’ve never kissed another guy,” Hyunjin confesses and you’re surprised. You’ve totally expected him to.

“Are you both fine with this?” Felix asks again and the two nod. If there’s something they love then it’s attention and you don’t blame them.

Minho gets closer to Hyunjin, before he aligns his lips with his. The older ones’ hand is placed on the younger ones’ jaw, pulling him towards him. And then they kiss. They start slow, before their tongues meet pretty soon and half a minute later the entertainment programme of tonight is over.

Hyunjin chuckles, “You kiss just like Y/N does.”

Minho's face falls and his jaw clenches.

Does Hyunjin connect the dots why you kiss like Minho? Is he aware of the fact that his friend has been teaching you how to kiss, touch and pleasure a man?

“What did you say?”

Hyunjin is already suspecting there must have been something happening inside his storage room and he wants to get back at Minho. He wouldn’t be surprised if you two kissed when he was in Paris. After all, Minho has always had a crush on you.

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “I said… you kiss just like Y/N kissed me… we kissed yesterday when we went to the flea market.”

He knows. He definitely knows.

Minho gets up, sprinting towards the hallway and the front door of Hyunjin’s apartment. You don’t care anymore, standing up and following him.

“Minho… wait,” you say and he comes to a halt.

He turns around, staring at you, “You broke the contract, huh? Rule number three—once Hyunjin and Y/N start getting closer physically and romantically the contract automatically ends.”

You didn’t consider it breaking the contract because you didn’t feel anything. However, you do know now that you should have ended things with Hyunjin and confess to Minho when you still had the chance. It’s probably over now anyway. You doubt that he will be able to trust you again.

“It’s not…”

Nothing more comes out. You’re overwhelmed, cursing yourself for your own decisions.

“It’s not what, Y/N? Do you think that making out isn’t physical and romantical? What is it then?”

You wonder if he thinks the same about the thousand kisses the two of you have shared. Has he viewed them in a romantic light too?

But you don’t have to wonder further, when Minho is already trying to explain it to you. “You know, what? It doesn’t even matter that you broke the contract.”

“Why?”

“Because I broke the contract first,” he says, his jaw clenching again. His piercing gaze is like so often pinning you against the wall behind you.

“What do you mean?”

“Rule number five. Don’t fall in love with each other. I broke the contract from the start, Y/N. I’m sorry,” he says, his facial expression suddenly becoming sad before he turns around on his feet and heads towards the door.

You follow him, “Minho, wait–“

He shushes you away. “I need time for myself now, okay? Please leave alone.”

Your heart shatters into a billion pieces.

Minho disappears but you don’t follow him. You’ve gotten to know him quite well during these past days to know that if he asks for space that he means it. Despite that—what are you gonna tell him? He’s got every right to be disappointed and hurt. You have to prepare more than a few stuttered out words when you want to win his trust again.

He loves you. Lee Minho loves you. That’s what he said, right?

He’s loved you from the start, even before your agreement started?

Well, if you’re completely honest with yourself, you’ve never been quite neutral about him either. The spark was just waiting to be set free once the two of you would get closer.

But you fucked up anyway.

“Y/N.”

Oh, no. The drama seems to be endless tonight.

You turn around, “Hyunjin.”

“I think we should talk.”

A minute later, you find yourself inside Hyunjin’s bedroom, awkwardly sitting next to him. Ideas are crossing your mind—pictures of all the women he’s brought here, perhaps even during this week. You feel so sorry for ever doubting Areum. Despite the fact that she’s Minho’s ex, she has always been honest and kind with you and you still didn’t believe her when she talked about what Hyunjin did.

So, you just start, allowing your heart to blurt out everything that’s been messing with you. There’s no holding back anymore.

“Maybe you should tell me first why you decided to take things slowly with me after making me wait for six months. I know, I was very understanding but… after that date, our kiss, and how we… don’t seem to connect. It doesn’t feel as if you’re truly interested in me,” you start.

“Y/N… I’m–“

“No, please let me talk first. I heard from multiple people that you’ve been going on dates with other girls. Okay, fine. But then also—throughout this whole evening you haven’t talked to me once and didn’t introduce me to your other friends. I'm not expecting you to tell them I’m your girlfriend because I know that I’m not but… do you… do you even have feelings for me anymore? Or was all you said that night before Paris a lie?”

Hyunjin lets his head fall down and his shoulders sink, “I’m truly sorry. I… I do have feelings for you. I guess I’m just a fuck up that’s afraid of commitment.”

You do believe him. Still, this doesn’t make the pain he’s caused go away. You’re still hurt.

“Don’t call yourself that,” you tell him.

“But it’s true,” he counters. “I could have had the most perfect girl and what do I do? Mess up. Run away. Destroy your trust. Not just by leaving the door open for other possibilities but also by not appreciating how you actually are.”

“What do you mean?”

“The necklace. You went back to the flea market and bought the grape shaped one,” he says, pointing at the jewellery around your neck.

“I’m… it was a gift,” you admit.

Hyunjin closes his eyes in regret. “That makes it even worse. I should have been the one to buy that.”

“Well, you had the chance,” you tell him. Is he truly surprised now that his actions have consequences?

“I know.” He takes a deep breath, wondering if he really wants to ask the question that’s burning on the tip of his tongue. “Can I ask you who bought it for you?”

“Minho,” you admit. You don’t even care anymore. Hyunjin should hear the truth. Not because he deserves it but because you deserve it. Even though the man who your heart truly belongs to probably doesn’t want to be with you anymore anyway.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows rise up. “Minho? Why would he do that?”

You scoff, “Why is this surprising?”

“He doesn’t like you,” Hyunjin says, knowing damn well he’s lying.

“Why would you say that?”

“You’re enemies and all,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. Wow. Now he’s just trying to make you feel bad even though he’s the one who messed up.

You take a deep breath. “Hyune… we’re not. We’re anything but that. I know that you’ve been meeting others behind my back too. Areum told me that you asked her out on a date.”

“We agreed to take things slowly. We’re not a couple so I am allowed to meet other people,” he explains.

“I’m not saying that this is extraordinarily virtuous but I know how you are. Which also means the same rules apply to me.”

“Sure,” he speaks, gripping the bed sheets, “what are you trying to say?”

“While you were on dates with other girls and busy buying a necklace for me that doesn’t really fit my style, I was spending time with Minho,” you say, clicking your tongue.

Maybe Areum was right. Spending time with Minho makes you adapt some of his pettiness. But you love it. It makes you feel so fucking confident.

“You kissed him inside the storage room earlier, didn’t you?”

You scoot closer, a faux pout on your lips, “Oh, Hyune… I did so much more with him than just kissing.”

“What?”

“Don’t pretend to be innocent now,” you say, smirking.

He nods, “No… I get it… I mean. You’re a free person and all. We’re not a couple, I set those boundaries myself. But as long as you’re only in love with me, we can work things out, right?”

“I don’t think so, Jinnie,” you tell him.

“Why… why not? Do you not want us to become a couple anymore?”

That’s when the sparkles hit you again. Maybe it’s your sixth sense finding you, as you enter a new era.

“I’m in love with Minho.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I said it.” You let out a laugh, finally grasping it. “I’m in love with Lee Minho. I can’t believe this.”

622 notes · View notes

leeminho-hall · 2 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/https-yeonjun/744887238844940289/okay-ill-just-say-it-i-pray-that-the-lord?source=share

As much as I feel bad for Riize I hate people like this who drag another group down just because they don't like them. Like they're all effin humans why are you treating them like they don't have emotions wtf

please report this person HERE

and im gonna address you personally @https-yeonjun you might be upset about what seunghan is going through, lord knows i am , im pissed off. his privacy was invaded several times and his company failed to protect him. but you saying this truly shows you don't actually give a fuck about what he's going through because you're worry about a group you claim to hate instead of riize.

stray kids are also going through stuff right now, hyunjin was roped into that mess that eunseok was involved in as well.

i don't care what kind of dislike you got for skz i don't, but saying useless shit when skz and riize have nothing to do with each other is crazy PLUS it draws attention away from the actual problem. if you don't like a group u leave them alone.

you're also spreading misinformation, never once has skz been misogynistic or bullies , the hyunjin situation has been debunk on numerous occasions by teachers and students from his school , it was a argument between two students in a class, this is what happens when you get your information off of twitter.

2. you seem to have a issue with stays from twt , then take that shit to twitter, kpop stans on twt constantly dog on skz and i never take it out on a group, if i don't like a group i ignore them i pretend they don't exist, no one is forcing you to listen to their music.

if u don't like skz cause of their past fine don't , but don't bring riize into you bullshit and get them more hate for no fucking reason cause that's the last thing they need.

AGAIN REPORT THIS PERSON AND DON'T BE LIKE THEM.

248 notes · View notes

leeminho-hall · 2 months

Text

instead of you [part forty] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, mentions of sex (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.4k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

That night, you turned Jisung’s words over in your mind over and over again. He was wrong, you were convinced. You would love him the same no matter what. No matter if he asked you to end things with Minho or not. You told him as much but he didn’t seem to believe you.

You went back to your room shortly after your talk. You had walked a little more, stopped for dessert at a little shaved ice stand on the beach, and then turned back. Jisung showered first, then you, but only after going over your agreement again. What you did with Minho was your business, but it had to be kept a secret. You were still Jisung’s girlfriend for the duration of the trip. It was mainly about his parents anyway. Jisung hadn’t explicitly told you why having a girlfriend was so important to him but after spending so much time with his family you could guess why.

The next day, everyone piled into the cars and took the forty-minute drive back to Honolulu where you’d landed. Traffic was awful. You knew it took everything in Minho not to honk at the cars in front of him. You could see his knuckles turning white around the steering wheel from the back seat.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he cursed as another F-150 cut him off.

You and Jisung traded looks but neither of you dared to say anything out loud. Even Felix’s grip on the armrest tightened when Minho swerved into the next lane to speed past the truck.

“We’re not in a rush,” you reminded him. You wanted to touch his arm, reassure him somehow, but you couldn’t.

“Yeah, Mom and Dad are way behind us now.”

“It’s not about speed,” he muttered. You weren’t really convinced about the speed thing. “It’s about the principle. These assholes shouldn’t be able to get away with driving like maniacs.”

“And what are you doing right now?” Jisung asked carefully.

His twin brother turned around in his seat to give him a warning look but to everyone’s surprise, Minho took a deep breath and actually stepped on the brakes. He only slowed down a little bit, less than five mph, but it was better than nothing.

“Sorry, I’m just so used to being late all the time.”

“We know,” Felix joked.

“You should see my girlfriend drive,” your best friend joked.

“Please, I passed my driver’s test on the first try,” you scoffed, making eye contact with Minho in the rearview mirror.

He shook his head at you and mouthed low blow. Next to you, Jisung was also shaking his head.

“Yeah, and I want to talk to whoever passed you because there’s no way they weren’t under the influence of something.”

“You’re in the fast lane to never getting a ride from me again,” you muttered.

Jisung raised his hands in surrender.

“Apologize,” Felix demanded, cutting in on your behalf.

“Yeah, apologize to me,” you agreed.

Jisung sighed and turned his full body toward you, taking both of your hands in his. “I’m sorry, my love. Please forgive me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

Jisung turned back toward his brothers. “I think I’m in the clear, guys.”

You smacked the back of his head.

The first stop in Waikiki was the ABC store. There was one on almost every block so you stopped at the first one you saw to buy snacks and drinks for the beach.

“How many musubis do you want?” you asked Minho, who was in charge of alcohol.

“How many are you getting?” he asked back with a grin.

He looked ridiculous with his arms full of beer, smirking at you like that.

“Two,” you said flatly.

“I’ll get two as well.”

You asked the others how many they wanted and raided the mini warmer for them before dumping them at the checkout counter with the rest of what the boys picked out. Dom paid and had the four of you take the bags back to the cars.

The next step was to find parking somewhere on the streets that were within walking distance to the beach. You had to split up from Jisung’s parents to do so because there was no way you were going to be able to find two open parking spots on the same road.

Once Minho parked, put money in the meter, and double-checked that the car was locked, the four of you slowly but surely made your way down to the shore where you met up with Nikki and Dom who had already picked out a spot in the sand.

You had never seen a beach so crowded before. There were people everywhere. And all of the available space was being taken up by beach chairs and umbrellas that you had to rent from one of the several stands stationed behind them. Some of the different colored umbrellas even overlapped with each other in an apparent turf war. You could only imagine what conversations between the rival attendants must be like.

The beach was still beautiful, of course. You were in Hawai’i. Any beach here was going to be breathtaking. Waikiki Beach attracted so many tourists because of its beauty.

“We rented four chairs,” Dom explained. “We figured not all of us would be sitting over here at once so we wouldn’t need six.”

Jisung nodded in understanding.

“Are you going to surf?” you asked.

“Probably,” he answered, looking over to his brothers. “I assume you won’t be?”

“I think I’ll sit this one out.”

You turned your foot over to look at your toe. Even though all of the sea urchin spines had dissolved, the marks from the injury were still fading. You couldn’t see yourself back on a board any time soon.

You were content to lay out in the sun with your book until Jisung wanted to wade in the water.

The boys left to rent surfboards and their parents headed in the opposite direction for a walk along the beach, leaving you alone with all of the stuff. You joked to Nikki and Dom that you would protect it with your life but in reality, you would hand it over if someone so much as looked at you threateningly.

You went to dig your book out from Jisung’s backpack but accidentally grabbed his instead. It was the one you had already read and annotated for him. Out of curiosity, you opened to where he left off to see what part he was at and were surprised to see his handwriting scrawled in the margins of the most recent page.

He hadn’t stopped annotating it. Even after everything, even when he was simmering with anger, he was still writing you little notes and responding to the ones you had left. You weren’t supposed to read them before he was done so you quickly closed it back and shoved it into the bag again before retrieving the book that was actually yours.

You took a brief look back up at the water to see how the boys were doing but there were so many surfers that it was hard to pick them out.

“Which one’s yours?”

The voice beside you startled you, making you jump a little before you realized someone had taken the seat next to you.

You weren’t sure where she had come from but a girl who looked to be about your age was perched on one of the chairs the Hans had reserved. She was pretty, really pretty. Head full of curls and freckles dusted across her cheeks. The tangerine-colored bikini she was wearing looked amazing against her skin and you weren’t sure whether you were more jealous of her or attracted to her.

“Huh?” you asked.

“Which one’s yours?” she repeated.

“Oh.” You squinted at the waves, trying to zero in on Jisung. “Uh, blue wetsuit in the group of three off to the side.”

The girl followed your gaze and nodded when she found him. “They just got out there, right?”

“Yeah, we only got here a few minutes ago.” You noticed the camera dangling around and realized she must be out there for someone too. “Um, which one is yours?”

“Long hair, kind of far out. He’s in the big cluster of surfers in the swell.”

Her boyfriend was easy to spot. He was paddling in the direction of an upcoming wave.

“Do you guys come out here often?” you asked.

She nodded, curls bouncing. “David’s lived in Kaneohe like all his life, which is like fifteen minutes from here so it’s super convenient. The North Shore isn’t as crowded but the waves are practically nonexistent in the summer,” she explained. “What about you guys?”

“We’re on vacation.” You were embarrassed to admit that but it wasn’t like you could lie. You didn’t know the island at all. You also didn’t want to risk mentioning that it hadn’t been your choice to come here and offend her if she thought you were implying that her home state was the worst or something.

“Oh, how fun!” she exclaimed. Ok, well that was a positive reaction at least.

“My boyfriend’s family was nice enough to invite me along,” you added, wanting at the very least to establish that it hadn’t been your idea.

“Holy shit, that is nice of them.”

“I know,” you agreed.

“Well, while you’re here you should definitely check out the Pillbox hike. It’s a little brutal if you aren’t used to hiking uphill but the views are totally worth it.”

“I’ll be sure to mention it to him! We have a free day tomorrow so maybe we’ll do that, thank you.”

You would not be going on the hike. You hated hiking and heights but you would still mention it to Jisung in case the boys wanted to go.

She smiled but then something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she was standing up to leave.

“Sorry, I promised my boyfriend that I would get some shots of him today and he’ll be pissed if I miss these waves.”

She threw you a wave over her shoulder as she jogged off. You waved back, calling out that it was nice to meet her. You never got her name.

You only managed to get through a couple of pages of your book before another person approached your chairs. This time, it was Jisung. He had come up to check on you.

“Make a new friend?” he asked as he shook water out of his hair like a dog.

“Oh yeah, did you see that girl talking to me?”

“Thought she might be trying to put the moves on you.”

“Oh my god, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not Bella Swan? Not everyone who talks to me is into me.”

“She was your type, though.”

“You say that about all girls.”

“Because that’s your type.”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend. “Either way, she wasn’t interested. She has a boyfriend. She was just asking me if I had a partner out there too.”

“That doesn’t mean she didn’t think you were cute,” he pointed out.

“You’re so annoying,” you groaned. “I don’t need a wingman anymore.”

He made a face. “That’s right, you’re fucking my brother,” he said, sounding disgusted. You couldn’t blame him.

“Do you have to announce that to the entire beach? I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, remember?”

Jisung shrugged and plopped himself down on the chair next to yours. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to get it out of his eyes. Because it was wet, it had taken on a mind of its own. You had witnessed Jisung try to tame his hair after a shower on several occasions. It usually ended with him just waiting for it to dry so that he could style it and then making you late to wherever you were supposed to be going.

“Are you going to go back out there?” you asked.

“Probably. Wanna join?”

“Very funny.”

“I was being serious.”

“Oh. Well, no thanks.”

“I figured but I just wanted to make sure.”

“You’re sweet.”

The boys surfed for a couple of hours before coming in to eat the musubis and snacks you bought earlier. Their parents returned around the same time and you all ate together.

Afterward, Jisung offered to wade around in the shallow water at the edge of the beach with you.

“You have to get in,” he insisted. “It’ll cool you down.”

“Okay,” you agreed.

You didn’t need any more convincing. You had wanted to get in anyway.

“Lix, Minho, do you want to come with us?” Jisung asked.

They looked at each other and shrugged. “Sure.”

The four of you wove through the sea of beach chairs down to the shore where the remnants of bigger waves lapped at the sand. The water was crystal clear, apart from the frothy white foam atop the waves. It fizzled against the hot sand when the waves crashed against the beach, lingering still even when the water subsided.

There were several groups of people in the ocean as well but it was less crowded than the beach. Families with small children were gathered right by the shore, the parents mingling with each other as the kids played with wet sand and beach toys. You wished you could remember what it was like to be that young. To meet a stranger and be best friends in the blink of an eye.

There were less and less people the further out from the shore you got. Fathers teaching older kids how to boogie board, teenagers jumping in the waves as they gossiped with each other.

You weren’t sure how long you spent in the water but before long, Nikki and Dom were waving from the beach to get your attention.

“They’re either saying it’s time to go, or they’re ditching us,” Jisung said, squinting and making a ‘what?’ gesture with his shoulders.

“It’s really a fifty-fifty shot,” Felix added.

“I think they want us to come in,” Minho guessed.

Minho was proven right mere seconds later when Dom beckoned you to join them.

The latter half of the day was spent walking around the city. Being the center of tourism on the island meant Waikiki had a lot of shopping. You had never seen so many high-end stores in one place before. You did some window shopping while the Hans did some shopping shopping. Practically everything in every single shop was out of your price range. You weren’t expecting otherwise but seeing the numbers on the backs of the price tags still hurt your heart.

You could tell a few of the sales associates recognized Minho from the way their eyes would get big when they saw him. They’d lean over and whisper to each other behind his back. Even though he couldn’t hear them you knew he knew it was happening. It made you feel kind of bad for him. Kind of.

You ate dinner at some restaurant attached to the lobby of a hotel. It was on the water, which was nice, but it was just as crowded as the beach had been. The poor servers were so swamped that it took over an hour to get your food. No one minded, of course, but by the time Minho laid his credit card on top of the bill it was dark outside.

“Do you remember where we parked?” Minho asked you as you

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to get there from where we are right now.”

“So you don’t remember where we parked.”

“No, I remember where we parked. But we’ve walked around so much that I don’t know how to get there.”

Minho shook his head at you. “You should always pay attention to where you’re going. It can be dangerous if you don’t know where you are.”

“Why should I? That’s what I have you guys for.”

“What if we weren’t here?”

“There’s a parked car option on my GPS.”

“What if your phone was dead?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I just want you to be safe!”

You didn’t want to hear any more. “Jisung, your brother is being an asshole!”

Your best friend, who had been walking alongside Felix, jogged up to meet you when you called for him.

“What’d he do?”

“I was just trying to-”

“I didn’t ask you,” Jisung cut in, glaring at Minho.

“He’s giving me a hard time because I don’t know how to get back to the car from here,” you explained.

“We can just use the GPS app,” Jisung said.

You turned to Minho with a smug grin. “See?”

“I can’t believe you told on me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Get used to it,” you hummed.

The last day on Oahu was a free day. You told Jisung about the pillbox hike that the girl from the beach had suggested and he woke up early to do it with Felix and Minho. He came back raving about it and showed you a bunch of pictures that made you feel a little sick to your stomach because of how high it looked.

“Thank god I didn’t go with you guys,” you sighed. “I’d be freaking out even if I stayed at the bottom, just thinking about you up there. There aren’t any handrails or guards to keep you from falling-”

“We were fine,” he assured you. “I didn’t even show you the pictures of us on top of the box.”

“You climbed it?”

“I mean, we’d already climbed the mountain. What’s a little concrete box? Everyone else was doing it.”

You held a hand to your heart like a scandalized middle-aged woman. “I don’t think I want to know anything else.”

Jisung took one look at you and laughed. “That’s probably for the best.”

You did some pre-packing at the hotel before joining his brothers to do some exploring. Like Jisung, they had showered after their hiking expedition. All three of them were sporting still-wet hair that was dripping onto their shirts like kids sitting in church service after their baptism.

You walked around the resort first, checking out all of the pools and hot tubs for later that night. Jisung told his parents that he’d cook for the family and he’d dragged Felix and Minho with him to get groceries earlier. Apparently, Minho said he would help grill while Jisung made some of the side dishes upstairs. You were interested to see how that would turn out. You didn’t have to wait long to find out.

You walked by the lagoons next, slipping into the resorts along the shore to scope them out. You were surprised to see that some of them were nicer than the one you were staying at. You assumed the Hans had chosen whatever the best money could buy was but maybe they were a more financially conscious family than you’d thought.

“This is the Disney hotel,” Minho whispered in your ear as you passed one of the pools. “It’s crazy expensive to stay here for just a night. Like a standard room is over six hundred dollars.”

“Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately. I mean, we probably could have gotten a discount but someone would have to pull a lot of strings and then a handful of people would know exactly where I’m going to be and when and we would have had to hire security... it was just easier to book somewhere else.”

“Isn’t it kind of dangerous to be walking around here in the open then?”

Minho shrugged. “I like to live life on the edge.”

You snorted. “Clearly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ji showed me the pictures from your hike earlier.”

His eyes widened. “He did?”

“Uh huh.”

“Shit.”

“You know, I could point out how hypocritical it is to lecture me about safety one day and then do shit like that the next, but I won’t.”

“You’re the one that told us about the hike!”

You ignored him. “Does your agent know you were climbing mountains this morning?”

He narrowed his eyes at you and leaned closer to your face. “No, and she never will.”

“You seem pretty sure of that...”

“You don’t have her number,” Minho said like he was trying to reassure himself rather than call your bluff.

“Not yet, I don’t.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

He gulped. “Why do I get the feeling that we’re not talking about my agent anymore?”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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leeminho-hall · 2 months

Text

THE EXPERIENCE PROJECT | EP. 5 TWO AND TWO MAKES FIVE

— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —

“That’s so not true. I can be the dominant one too.”

Minho snickers, “I’d love to see you try.”

[ warning ]: explicit sexual scenes [ softdom minho, corruption kink, oral m receiving, semi public encounters ?? they are in a tent but alone ], very short mention of weed [ jisung ], mention of cheating

[ words ]: 6.3K

[ note ]: I sound like a broken record but thank you again for all the support. you guys are seriously the best. i haven’t been on here for that long but you are really the kindest and it means the world to me how much you enjoy this little story and how you come up with theories and all 🌸 I’m always grateful about every sweet comment, reblog, ask or DM!

Minho wakes up with a weird feeling inside his chest. Perhaps his heart is telling him that he’s playing dangerous games by what’s going on between you and him. He told you to keep your eyes on him when you come, despite the fact that he fully knows you’re in love with Hyunjin. You are, right? That’s why you have that odd agreement in the first place. There have been some moments that have made him a bit more delusional, that made him believe for a second there could be more between the two of you but he dropped those ideas rather quickly.

He should understand that you and him are never gonna be a couple.

But what if you aren’t into Hyunjin anymore? What if something about your feelings has shifted?

You definitely were only excited about his visit last night because you want to learn more. Minho is sure that has nothing to do with his presence. You probably still can’t stand him. Although he notices how comfortable, safe and calm you’ve been feeling around him these past days. He’s never had an effect on someone like this before. And he’s never seen you act like that. Not that he knows much about you but at least while being with your friend group, you’ve never behaved like this around Hyunjin.

Fuck. He should calm down. Or else he’s gonna break his heart into a million tiny pieces if that hasn’t happened so far.

Minho sinks down on his couch, pulling out his phone when he notices you texted him.

[ You ]: hey, is your sister still at your place? can i come over tonight? i have food hehe

Shit, he really wants to see you tonight. But Thursdays are rather inconvenient for that, unfortunately. And maybe his heart also needs a day off from all this drama. At least that’s how he tries to hype himself up about the fact that he won’t be seeing you today.

[ Minho ]: Hey, Y/N. Sorry, everything is okay with my sister’s apartment again but we have dance practice tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow for the camping trip, right?

He excitedly stares at his phone screen like a teenage boy, his eyes getting filled with sparkles when you reply.

[ You ]: yeah sure but we won’t be able to be together there. hyunjin is with us too. have fun at practice tho 😊

Fuck. Yeah. He’s totally forgot about that part. Hyunjin. God, why does he have to destroy this?

[ Minho ]: We will figure it out. Thank you. Have a nice Thursday too.

[ Minho ]: 🍇🖤

He’s sure, there’s gonna be some solution to this. Minho seeks to be close to you and he’ll do anything to make that happen. He does feel disgusted sometimes about himself. The fact that he’s secretly hoping for you to fall in love with him during this whole agreement but love turns us selfish.

He gets dragged out of his spiral of guilty conscience when you message him again.

[ Y/N 🍇 ]: 😆🍋🤍

You are assigning him this emoji now?

[ Minho ]: I’m a lemon??

[ Y/N 🍇 ]: yeah, kinda fits you best

[ Minho ]: In what world am I similar to a lemon??

He rolls his eyes when he reads your reply. Then a smile makes it up to his face. You’re so adorable, his heart is gonna melt and turn into a puddle with him.

[ Y/N 🍇 ]: you get sour quickly 🤭

Still, he plays cool.

[ Minho ]: 🙄🙄🙄

[ Minho ]: Whatever you believe in. See you tomorrow and remember to pack warm clothes. It’s gonna be cold at night.

He’d lend you all the sweaters and jackets he owns but then again Hyunjin will be there. And Minho would rather see you in your clothes than in the ones from his friend. God. The fact that Hyunjin is his friend makes this whole situation just worse.

[ Y/N 🍇 ]: yes sir 🫡

His cock twitches inside his pants. God. It’s eleven in the morning and you’re flirting with him.

[ Minho ]: You’re playing with fire, princess.

He’s sure this warning will bring him nowhere, knowing you’ll just hop on it and provoke him more. When his phone receives another reply he knows his assumptions are right.

[ Y/N 🍇 ]: whoopsiiiee sorrryy, just trying to keep us warm in the cold 🤭 see you tomorrow min 🥰

Minho puts his phone away, still smiling brightly, before he feels someone plop down on the sofa right next to him. His sister is staring at her phone too, her eyes shining brighter than shooting stars, making him want to annoy her.

“Why are you giggling at your phone like this whenever you receive a message? You’ve got a boyfriend?” Minho asks.

She instantly rolls her eyes and puts the device away, “No, I don’t. It’s none of your business anyway.” His sibling turns around and looks at him. “Despite that, I saw you smiling earlier too when you looked at your screen.”

Minhos jaw clenches but he plays it cool. “What’s his name?”

“Tell me hers first unless it’s Areum then… Please keep that secret to yourself. You didn’t match at all,” his sister lets out with a sigh.

Minho is confused. He knows his family has never been Areum’s biggest fan but hearing it like this makes him wonder why exactly they’ve never quite liked her. “Why do you think so?”

She shrugs her shoulders, “I don’t know. She’s boring as fuck. I’ve always liked that other girl from your friend group more… What's her name again? Y/N?”

His heart stops. Why does she need to bring you into this?

“Yeah… Y/N. But that’s not gonna happen,” he quickly replies.

His sister tilts her head, “Why not? She’s funny, authentic and has a super pretty style.”

“You only wear black, you emo girl,” he teases her.

“And? I can appreciate when another woman obviously has good taste,” she explains.

“I don’t have a chance with her anyway. She’s dating Hyunjin,” he says, sounding a bit too hopeless.

His sister blinks twice. “Ugh. Why would she do that to herself?”

Minho has to hold back a laugh.

“What do you mean? He’s tall, handsome, creative. Spent last semester in Paris. He’s like a Disney prince,” he adds, knowing damn well he’s always comparing himself to these standards, knowing he’s never had a chance to begin with. Everyone seems to be in love with Hyunjin. Including you. The only woman he’s ever truly liked.

“A Disney prince that has dated the whole campus so far. Basically the reality TV version of a prince. Maybe he’s practising to apply for the next season of The Bachelor,” his sister reminds him.

“How do you know?”

“I went to the art exhibition with him yesterday—before you say anything, as friends, we have a bunch of classes together—and he was constantly on his phone texting different people.” She shakes her head, seeming quite annoyed. Until she notices that her brother’s mood has shifted. “Min? You okay?”

Minho knows that they’ve been friends for some time. After all, they’re majoring in the same field but his heart stings for different reasons. Hyunjin might just be playing with you, that son of a bitch. And he can’t allow that to happen, knowing you’re way to precious to get your heart broken by an asshole like this.

Okay, Lee Minho, calm down. This is still about your good friend. Hyunjin is your friend.

Yes, and? Isn’t he allowed to call his friends out if their behaviour isn’t acceptable?

He shakes his head, bringing his focus back to the conversation and switching topics a little, “Thanks for telling me. So… Who’s your crush?”

His sister smirks, one of her eyebrows rising up. “You’d love to know, don’t you?”

“I’ve told you mine too,” he emphasises.

“It was an easy guess, bro.”

“Come on, just a hint,” he says, nudging her shoulder.

“I’d love to tell you but it’s embarrassing…”

“Why? Is it Jisung?”

She nudges his shoulder. “Of course not. But the things is…I… I don’t know who he is,” she admits. “We’ve only been chatting online. I know, gamer girl cliché, and no, he isn’t paying for my Discord Nitro subscription.”

“You’re such a loser,” Minho teases his younger sibling.

“You too, you idiot,” she fights back, grabbing the nearest pillow that’s placed on the sofa and shoving it into her brother’s face but he doesn’t react anymore. He knows all her tricks.

“Anyway,” Minho says instead, getting up from the couch, “I’ve got a lot of classes today. Make sure to lock the apartment properly and if there’s still some issue at your place, call me, yeah?”

“I will. Thanks, Min,” she answers.

Friday comes quicker than you would have expected and once the sun is shining brightly—as if you’ve ordered great weather—you find yourself at the campus’ flea market of your university. Together with Hyunjin. On your second date. He hasn’t left your side for an hour now, telling you about all the things he’s seen and experienced during his stay in Paris while his hand desperately searches for yours. You let him, your fingers intertwined with his own a bit later and it makes you wonder if this could turn into something serious pretty soon.

Because—look at you—holding hands with none other than the one and only Hwang Hyunjin in public on campus isn’t something that’s seen quite often. He must be very excited and truly mean it. Hyunjin reciprocates your silly little feelings and you’re gonna be a couple in the future. Your long awaited dream is finally here.

Your crush drags you around the corner, before you approach a little booth with shimmering and glittering items, the most beautiful necklaces, gemstones and rings blinding your vision. You take a closer look, instantly falling in love with the odd looking ones—the ones that you also find when diving too deep into stuff suggested to you on Etsy—giggling about earrings in the shape of fried eggs on toast or the ones that look like rubber ducks.

Then you find a necklace that perfectly matches the grape shaped earrings you wore the other day. Your eyes hover over the material but you’re unsure if you’re allowed to touch the item so you don’t. Hyunjin is standing next to you, observing your motions and chuckling a little when he notices how adorable you look. He’s always liked this about you—how your eyes turn into stars when you see something that amazes you.

“You’ve always liked these fruit inspired accessories and clothings, right?” he asks, giving you a soft smile. Hyunjin has one of his hands inside his jeans’ pocket, the other one is still entangled with your own. He leans over to you, catching a glimpse of your beauty. He can’t believe it took him so long to confess to you. Hyunjin knows it wasn’t the best timing back then and it haunts him up until this day that he basically broke your heart—and his own—the day before he left for Paris when he admitted to you that he’s falling in love with you.

But he also knows that this was his only chance. After all, Jisung accidentally spilled that Minho might have a crush on you too. And Hyunjin couldn’t travel to France for half a year, wondering if his friend would make a move on you instead. Which is ridiculous and toxic, absolutely toxic, he knows that. But love makes him selfish. Although there’s nothing to worry about. You don’t even like Minho, let alone love him. The idea of his friend and you together in a romantic light is the funniest joke of the century.

“Yeah, I guess one could say it’s kinda my thing,” you say with a small giggle, which brings Hyunjin’s thoughts back to where they should be right now. It was a shame that he couldn’t go to the art exhibition with you two days ago, but then again another friend—Minho’s sister—went there with him and he was actually hoping to get some more details from her about her brother’s possible crush on you. Which didn’t work because that woman is the carbon copy of Minho, avoiding emotions at any cost except for when they include sarcasm.

“It’s cute, it suits you, Y/N,” Hyunjin says, still watching you look at the necklace with the grape shaped pendant. He’s seen stuff like this back in Europe too. Yes, he’s also thought about buying something for you but if he’s honest—sure, those fruit inspired accessories are funny and cute but he’d love to see you in something more… mature, too. Hyunjin knows a lot about art and fashion after all. And just imagining you wearing a pretty diamond necklace, while lingerie in the same shade is hugging your curves makes ideas shoot up to his head—and blood rush down to his cock—during a very inappropriate situation. Get it together, Hyune.

He reaches for a necklace with a violet jewel attached to it, making quick eye contact with the salesperson, before he shows the accessory to you. You catch a glimpse of it, adoring its glittering features but something feels… boring about it. You can appreciate the simplicity and beauty of the object but it doesn’t catch you, if that makes sense.

“But how about this? I’ve seen this in Paris everywhere. They made me think that they’d look astonishing on you. Purple is truly your color,” Hyunjin says.

He’s right about that part though. You love all the colors of the rainbow but purple is one of your favorites. Just like the grape necklace.

“What is this?”

“An amethyst. A symbol of peace and pure love,” he explains, picking the item up again and holding it in an angle so that the sun shines right through it.

“It’s pretty,” you admit. Because it is. It really is. But some weird—yes, this sounds so exaggerated—type of feeling spreads through your stomach. Hyunjin clearly saw that you looked at the other necklace, why is he trying to show you this one now?

“It really is. You wanna try it on?” he asks.

It’s alright, Y/N. He knows more about this stuff like you. And if there’s some spiritual meaning behind it, this makes it quite romantic, right?

You smile, “Sure. Why not?”

Hyunjin gestures to you to turn around and you follow suit. You do a little spin, until he’s standing behind you and you get reminded of how tall he is. His big hands reach over your head, until he puts the accessory around your neck and closes it. Gently, he lets it fall down until it lands right between your collar bones and your thumb and index finger instantly reach for it. It feels so special, so pretty and you’re sure it look just as beautiful on you.

“Woah, it’s amazing, it’s like it was made for you, angel,” you hear Hyunjin from behind you. Suddenly, his hands are attached to your waist and he turns you around again. One of his hands finds your face, before it wanders further and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’d love to buy this one for you.”

Your mouth falls agape, “Oh, Hyunjin, you seriously don’t have to. It’s fine.”

You don’t want him to spend money on you out of the blue. Although your subconsciousness knows that there’s another reason lying deep inside your heart. But you don’t let it free.

“I’d love to,” he reassures you. “Wait a second, yeah?” You watch him walk to the salesperson before he pays for the necklace and gets back to you.

His fingers reach for your own again. Hyunjin and you walk a little further, until you get around a corner and behind another booth, where it’s less crowded. You feel his hands glued to your sides once more, as he pulls you towards him. His fingertips graze over the gemstone for a second and you dearly pray that he won’t notice how loud and fast your heart is beating, basically threatening to burst out of your chest.

He tilts his head, as you watch his tongue brush his upper teeth, before he speaks, “Now everyone will know who you belong to, hm?”

You’re desperately trying to not lose your mind.

Who you belong to.

Hwang Hyunjin told you that. Your longtime crush. This is insane.

“Thank you, Jinnie,” you say, barely audible but he still catches it.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I’m back. I’ve missed you so much,” he confesses.

Your eyes are still fixated on his own, “I’ve missed you too.”

Hyunjin scoots a bit closer, his mouth wandering right beside your ear, so he’s able to softly whisper, “I’ve also missed kissing you.”

You shyly giggle, impulsiveness taking over you, “What are you waiting for, then?”

All he does is chuckle before he seals his lips with your own. God, those plump and oh so soft lips. How you’ve missed having them against your own. They feel so incredibly good moving with your own. The other two kisses that Hyunjin and you shared were rather innocent ones, more of a peck if you will, but thanks to you making out constantly these past days, you’re quite experienced when it comes to kissing.

Hyunjin also realises how much more confident you are compared to half a year ago and he loves it. You can tell when you feel him smile between kisses. He takes the invitation and slips his tongue into your mouth, fighting for dominance with your own.

Kissing Hyunjin is on a whole new level.

Magical is the best word to describe it.

However, the sparkle vanishes just as fast as it appears, leaving you… unsatisfied. You’ve kissed Hyunjin before. Twice. But something is different now, perhaps something inside your head, you’re not quite sure. It’s not just the fact that you are making out this time because you do feel comfortable with him, absolutely. He’s one of the people you trust most in this world and entering a heated kissing session with him feels nice.

But that’s it. It’s nothing more than that. You don’t want your brain or heart to go that way but there’s something missing. Something that you experience whenever Minho solely looks at you. But you scrunch your eyes, push the thoughts away and a few seconds later, Hyunjin is letting go of you again.

He gives you the sweetest smile, not at all realising that he isn’t the only man on your mind. Fuck. You’ve catapulted yourself right into the middle of the worst drama of this century. Great work, Y/N.

“This was great,” he says, biting his lips.

“Yeah,” is all you manage to let out. Do something about the awkwardness inside your own head. Now. Change topics. Although this will make it perhaps even more suspicious but you can’t function right now. “Do you have everything for the camping trip later?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen, “Oh, I’m not coming, I’m sorry. Felix said he told you.”

No, he didn’t. For whatever reason. You don’t question it.

What you do question though is why Hyunjin can’t tell this yourself and what his reason is. You decide to ask about the latter.

“Why not?”

He scratches the back of his head, “Ah, you know, I’ve never been a fan of this whole camping and nature thing.”

But I love it. And I even wanted to go to that art exhibition with you although I don’t even know when Vincent Van Gogh was alive or what the difference between cyan and turquoise is. Because I like you.

You ignore the ongoing weird feeling inside your stomach. “I totally understand this, Hyune.”

He smiles, “Thank you. We meet on Saturday anyway, right? For my ‘welcome back’ party at my place?”

You nod, “Of course.”

The conversation shifts again to other topics after this. There are still so many thoughts in your mind. Why did Hyunjin buy you a different necklace from the one that you looked at? It’s not like the prices differed that much and despite that he doesn’t have to buy you anything at all. Why did he mention stuff about Paris but never bought a souvenir for you? With whom did he go to the art exhibition? Is he in fact dating other people at this time as well?

You decide to stop worrying before your head explodes and when you catch a glimpse at your phone half an hour later, the two of you realise that you should really get going if you still want to go on this camping trip tonight. Without Hyunjin though.

But with Minho.

Well, and Felix, Changbin—your roommate’s gym crush—Jisung and the mysterious girl he met online. Yes, she told him she would be there too.

Before you two part ways, Hyunjin takes off his leather jacket and puts it over your shoulders.

“Don’t get cold, yeah? You can take this one with you. It matches quite well with the necklace, angel,” he says with a wink.

Hyunjin gives you one last kiss on your cheek, before your bus arrives and you hop on it.

“What do you mean she called off at the last minute?”

You come back to a very confused Felix and a pretty sad looking Jisung sitting in the living room.

“What happened?” you ask, taking off your shoes and the jacket Hyunjin gave you. You take a few steps towards where your friends are sitting and drop down on the couch next to them

“The girl from the Discord server… she’s not coming with us,” Jisung explains, his head hanging low, shoulders too, while he is staring into the distance.

“Maybe she doesn’t actually exist,” you tease him.

He looks at you like a baby that got his plushie stolen, “Stop it, virgin.”

You give him a strict glare but Jisung knows you can’t be mad at him for long. Instantly, your annoyed face turns into a laugh.

“So, what now?” Felix asks.

“I’m not coming. I’ll stay here,” Jisung says, shaking his head, while his arms are crossed in front of his chest. He looks like a whiny toddler sitting there that got rejected choosing something from the candy aisle of the grocery store.

“You’re such a loser,” your best friend tells him.

Jisung sighs but tries to drown out a laughter. He gets up from the couch and takes the fluffy blanket with him. “A broken hearted loser. And if you excuse me, I need to play video games now, smoke some weed and cry like a real man like God intended.”

Right before he disappears inside Felix’s bedroom, you yell, “If you need anything you call us, yeah?”

“Yes, babes. I love you. Take care,” you hear him, knowing everything will be fine. He just needs to be alone for a bit and you respect that.

When you turn around, you notice your best friend looking at you. There’s a huge grin on his face. “Isn’t this great for you?”

You stare at him confused, “Seeing Jisung sad? What kind of a psychopath do you think I am?”

“Perhaps a pathological liar but not a psychopath, no,” Felix corrects his sentence. “But this isn’t what I meant. This makes the tent arrangement a little different. A win-win for the both of us, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can share a tent with Changbin, and you with Minho,” he suggests.

Your mouth falls agape, “What?”

“Well, the other options are you and me in one but Changbin and Minho don’t know each other at all. Or you with Changbin which I bet is even weirder,” he reminds you.

Okay, this actually means Minho and you can continue where you left off. Given the circumstances that Changbin’s and Felix’s tent is far away from you and they are already asleep if you decide to get closer.

“Fine,” you huff. “Your gym crush won’t question it?”

“I doubt it,” Felix reassures you, shaking his head.

“Good.”

Camping has always been something you’ve enjoyed quite much. Luckily, your little group feels the same. You had some barbecue for dinner and talked a lot, finding out that Changbin is a really kind guy, making you cross your fingers that Felix and him will finally get together soon. In addition to that, you managed to place the tents a bit further away from one another. For privacy reasons and all.

Your best friend and his crush have gotten a little closer, being all cuddly and when Felix starts yawning with no end, they call it a night. Minho and you stay where you are, still sitting in the camping chairs next to one another, just enjoying the scenery above you. Stars over stars are filling your vision, giving you a way better view than you’d ever be able to experience in the busy city of Seoul although you didn’t even drive that far. It makes you want to stay here a little longer.

The night sky looks beautiful. It reminds you of the hoodie Minho gave you some days ago and the feeling of how soft the fabric felt against your skin. The silence spreads all over the fields, the only sounds are coming from cicadas echoing. But it’s nice. With Minho you don’t have to talk much. It’s nice to not speak at all too. In a good way.

“Uhm, Y/N,” he suddenly starts, instantly making you look at him. “I saw something the other day when my sister and I went to the flea market together.”

One of your eyebrows raises, “Yeah? What did you see? A squirrel?”

Minho rolls his eyes, you barely see it in the dim light of the night but still know for sure. “Jisung’s busy smoking and chatting with imaginary girls online, please. No. I meant something that reminded me of you.”

“Of me?”

Confusion is spread all over your face and Minho hopes you don’t notice how nervous he is.

“Yeah,” is all he says. He reaches for something inside his pocket, bringing out a small velvety bag in a pastel purple shade.

“I thought we were enemies and all,” you tease him, not even knowing anymore if this applies to you both. You could swear, one week ago you couldn’t be in a room with him alone for a minute because either one of you would start a fight and if the same situation occurred now, your first issue would be to withstand kissing him while your heart tries not to melt.

He scoffs. “I thought of you and bought it. Don’t put too much thought into it. It’s also okay if you don’t like it. It’s just… I think this one might still be missing in your collection. Of course—I don’t know. You have a shit ton of those funny accessories. But… you have earrings that are similar so I thought–“

You’re the one to roll their eyes now, “Spit it out, Min. What is it?”

“Here,” he gives you the small bag. “This. If you already have one like this or you don’t like it I can just–“

He gets interrupted when you open it and bring out a necklace.

Not just any necklace.

The one you looked at earlier. The one with the grape shaped pendant attached to it.

“You’re insane,” is all you let out, a bit too loud but you couldn’t care less. Your palm meets your mouth, covering it, while your eyes are widening and you let out a squeal.

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” Minho admits, unsure how to read your reaction.

You’re in shock. In a good type of shock. This is the best gift ever. “It means you’re amazing. I actually don’t have this one yet. Gosh. This is perfect. Thank you so much. I can’t believe this.”

Minho gets a little startled when he feels your arms getting thrown around his neck while you pull him into a tight hug. Tears are stinging in your eyes but he doesn’t notice because of the darkness that is surrounding you.

“Calm down, it’s just a necklace,” he says with an awkward chuckle.

You shake your head no, “A necklace with a grape shaped pendant. Fucking adorable. Seriously, thank you so much for thinking of me.”

Your eyes lock with his for another second, before you guide the accessory around your neck and secure it. What a shame you aren’t wearing the matching earrings today but this can wait for another time. You’re the happiest person on this planet right now.

“It’s nothing. I’m glad you like it,” Minho adds with a small voice but on the inside he thanks the universe for your reaction and the fact that he can spend time with you, just sitting here, listening to you talk about your interests and the world.

He’s always liked this about you—how your eyes turn into stars when you speak about a topic you like or do something that amazes you.

“So, what’s on today's schedule?”

You’re back inside your shared tent, after checking that Felix and Changbin have already fallen asleep in their own.

Minho frowns, “Schedule. Yeah. Well, I think you were a little too bold last time, hm? Teasing me like that just to fall right into submission the moment I tease you back?”

He’s going all in from the start. You’re in for a night.

“That’s so not true. I can be the dominant one too.”

Minho snickers, “I’d love to see you try. Despite that, you can be the one doing all the work and still be the submissive part.”

“Really?”

You weren’t aware of that. Well, you’ve never quite thought about it but the fact that Minho talks so openly about it and creates a safe space once again, makes you feel so comfortable and, of course, makes him even more attractive than he already is.

“Yeah. Dominance is about a certain dynamic, a role, if you will. Not what you physically do in bed,” he explains.

“Ah, okay. Well, then I’d like to be the… physically active part,” you confess.

He smirks, “I won’t say no to that. What do you have in mind?”

Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be okay. He’s here to help you, right?

“I liked… jerking you off… but I wanna learn more,” you admit with a small voice.

“More, hm? Why don’t you use your words like a big girl, huh?”

You roll your eyes and throw your head back. “Min…”

“Nah, we agreed that communication is key.” At least in bed. “So, tell me what you wanna do, yeah? It’s just me, remember?”

You nod, “Fine. I’d… Uhm, I’d like to suck you off.”

“Sure, baby.”

That’s how you find yourself kneeling in front of Minho a minute later. The tent is quite cramped, you can’t deny that. But you couldn’t care less. Not when he stares down at you like this, his piercing gaze hypnotising you. Your hands wander up his muscular thighs—making you think back to how amazing it felt riding them—going farther upwards until one of your palms lands on his crotch.

He’s already hard. You haven’t even done anything and Minho is already hard as rock. Why do you have such an effect on him? It doesn’t make any sense. You’re not exactly good at what you’re doing or at least you lack experience to scientifically evaluate this, right? Why is his body reacting to you so quickly then?

Because he’s in love with you, the subconscious part of your brain screams at you but you don’t hear it. You’re way too focused on something else anyway. Minho’s hand lands on your head, guiding you closer to his bulge and he chuckles.

“Come on, princess. Be a good girl and show me what you’ve got, hm?”

“Just start like last time, yeah? I’m sure I’ll like anything you do.” Why’s he flirting with you?

You nod, seizing your hand around his length, before you start pumping him. Minho hisses, throwing his head back from the little amount of motions you do. His grip tightens, when he tilts your head upwards, his gaze fixated on your face. You stare up at him with the eyes of a doll, while he feels himself grow even harder. You look so fucking adorable and he’s dying to be the one to ruin you, shape you just for his pleasure although you’re doing this for another guy and in the back of his mind he knows that quite well but pretending feels nice for a moment.

“I like it when…” he suddenly gets nervous. Minho knows exactly what he likes in bed. Although he hasn’t been with that many women. There was Areum and one high school girlfriend before his ex—yes, you’re the third girl he’s ever been in love with, believe it or not, and the second person he’s ever slept with. Yet, he calls himself a tutor, huh?

“Tell me what you like, baby,” you encourage him, being quite surprised about your sudden confidence.

“Start slowly. Just with some licks. I’ll guide you through it when I’m ready, yeah?” Minho has been ready for the past five or ten minutes now. Hell, even before you began this. But he can’t risk to come within seconds when it’s the first time you’re doing this.

However, you follow his advice and soon kitten licks erupt on his length, before you add a longer stripe to his shaft, making sure to keep eye contact. You’re gonna be the death of him, that Minho is sure of. He enters a state of pure trance then, watching you do what you seem to be naturally good at. Or it’s just his stupid heart and his stiffening cock speaking. It’s embarrassing what an effect you have on him. No one has ever achieved this. A simple look from you is enough to make him question everything he’s ever believed in. If someone told him two and two makes five, he wouldn’t even question it anymore at this point.

Minho catches himself, before he guides your mouth towards his tip.

“Whenever you’re r-ready, princess.”

It’s adorable how he’s stuttering and it gives you even more confidence, so you take the first few centimetres in. His length passes your lips before they wrap around it, letting him slide in deeper. Minho helps you with his hand showing you how to move, when you take him in and out, your head bobbing up and down. And when he watches you drooling all over him, obviously relishing the feeling of his dick inside your warm and wet hole, he takes the upper hand in this again.

You look perfect like this. Saliva is dripping down to the tent’s floor but none of you cares about it. You’re rolling your eyes to the back of your head, letting the sensation of being so close to Minho take over you.

“I’ve never expected you to enjoy sucking cock that much, baby,” Minho says, knowing damn well he won’t be able to hold back for that much longer.

“Is it… is it okay if I come inside your mouth?” he asks, not expecting anything from it. At this point, he would even thank you if you decided to edge him and deny him any orgasm for the rest of the night.

You hastily nod, encouraging him, while you continue with your movements. A little later, Minho allows the feeling to fully take over him, when he reaches that sweet sensation of pure ecstasy. His warm liquids shoot into your mouth and you make sure to swallow every single drop. You’re in trance too, watching Minho become absolutely powerless for you and you’ve never seen a more beautiful scenery like this, despite the fact that the night sky is right outside.

He suddenly comes to a halt and carefully slips his softening cock out of you, before he pulls his pants back up. Minho falls down to his knees, swiping away a few droplets of his come, before he places the sweetest kiss on the top of your head that earth has ever witnessed.

It’s in the middle of the night when Minho suddenly wakes up, feeling you attached to his body.

You fell asleep together. Right. Just after your little encounter, he took care of you and tucked you into your sleeping bag. He must have dozed off right away too.

He checks his phone, watching the time read 01:43. Then, he sees a message from his sister from not that long ago. The protective older brother he is, he instantly panicks and opens the chat.

[ Sis 🙄 ]: I didn’t wanna tell you this Min but I unfortunately value you a bit too much although you’re the most annoying brother on this planet.

He immediately replies.

[ Minho ]: What is it? Are you alright?

And when he reads the message, he realises that his sister isn’t in trouble but someone else definitely is.

[ Sis 🙄 ]: Hyunjin asked me out on a date. Despite the fact that I am not interested in him AT ALL and have only ever seen him as a friend I think you should know. Or Y/N should know, to be precise. I’m sorry. 😕

His heart sinks and then crashes into a billion tiny pieces.

[ Minho ]: Thank you for telling me. 🫂

He needs to talk to someone about it and find out how to tell you this nightmare of a story. Minho will protect you. Even if it means breaking the contract and telling Jisung about it tomorrow.

640 notes · View notes

leeminho-hall · 2 months

Text

star lost with you | hyunjin au | part 19

pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader

genre: friends to lovers, so much angst, smut, fluff, set in the idolverse, mutual pining, unrequited love, forbidden romance, slowburn (!!!) soulmate au, star-crossed lovers

synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him. there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again. he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you. hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned.

word count: 40K (yeah....i promise it doesn't feel like that much!)

warnings: cursing, lots of casual drinking, mature content, angst, mutual pining, a shit ton of sexual tension, slight jealousy, making out, kissing, mature language, dirty jokes, arguments, reference to depression, some self-blaming, whipped! hyunjin, a lot of fluff

a/n: this is definitely one of my favourite chapters, and ends with an arc I've been looking forward to for a while. it's a very hyunyn centric chapter, which is why i love it. i honestly could have worked on this chapter forever, because there's so much i wanted to include, and i hope you like the finished product. please get comfortable with snacks and a blanket to read, and some light music to match. you can listen to my star lost playlist here!

important: all works are fiction, and do not in any way represent the real personalities or real people, they exist only as faceclaims, and are fictional characters.

masterlist

The snowflakes had settled on his coat, melting slowly in the warmth of the apartment, battling the cold from the outside where he’d left the door open. His eyes were filled with confusion, gaze moving from you to the duffel bag in your hands. The wheels clicked in his head, and oh, to know what went through Hyunjin’s mind when he put two and two together. You would kill to know how his mind worked, especially right now. His lips parted, but before he could say anything, you said, “What are you doing here, Hyunjin?”

His brows furrowed as some kind of epiphany sank in, “Are you going somewhere?”

It wasn’t an answer to your question, and you had no energy to justify yourself right now, “That doesn’t concern you.”

“What do you mean?” He took a step up tentatively like if he stepped too close, you’d run away. But you were, weren’t you? You were running away. You didn’t want to talk to him, not when all of your latest conversations with Hyunjin had ended in heartbreak. You had made up your mind, and you were going home. He obviously didn’t want you in your life, as he’d explicitly stated every time. So why the fuck was he at your doorstep?

You looked him in the eye, a bubbling anticipation rising within you at his possible reaction. He obviously wouldn’t care though, would he? He wanted you gone too. You swallowed, speaking clearly so he wouldn’t misunderstand, “I’m leaving, Hyunjin.”

“What?” A flash of confusion crippled his features. Just then, Jeongin’s voice carried through the stairwell, and you heard his footsteps as he ran up the stairs, yelling, “The taxi’s here! I already put your suitcases in the trunk.”

Hyunjin frowned, “Your suitcases? What is he talking about?”

Helpless, you stared at him. You had no clue how to explain this to him because it would mean admitting that you were wrong about everything. About moving here, about the classes, about Jieong… You weren’t going to be weak in front of him. His cheeks were red, courtesy of the quickly developing storm outside. It just meant you needed to get out of here as soon as possible, you couldn’t wait around for your train to get delayed because of the increment weather. It was fitting, because the snowstorm matched you. You tightened the grip on your bag, taking a step ahead, and your voice didn’t waver as you said, “It means that I’m going home, Hyunjin. To Daejon.”

“I’m sorry…what?” His eyes widened. You stepped closer, lugging your bag with you, “You heard me…” Finally, you came eye-to-eye with him in the middle of the staircase, “I never should have come here. It was my mistake. So you don’t have to worry about me being in your life anymore, and since you’re probably never coming back to Daejon then….” You swallowed, staring at him, and suddenly it was harder to speak the following few words, “Then… I guess this is goodbye, Hyunjin.”

He blinked at you, voice raising in his prolonged disbelief, “Wait…What are you talking about? What do you mean, you’re going home?”

You had no clue how to explain this to him, you suppose it was out of nowhere…but what did he expect? Right at that moment, Jeongin finally caught up to you on the sixth floor, and he stopped to catch his breath, hands on his knees, panting, “I have no idea why I just ran up all those stairs.” He straightened up, finally noticing Hyunjin, “How did you get into the building?”

Hyunjin looked back at him as if this was the last of his problems, stating bluntly, “I pushed open the door. It wasn’t locked.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just come into a stranger’s building, what the hell, dude” It should have been expected that Jeongin, obviously was unaware of and possibly didn’t give a fuck about idols. In any other circumstance, you might have found it funny. Hyunjin frowned at him, “I’m not a stranger. She knows me.”

You sighed, “Jeongin, I’ll be down in a minute. Thank you for getting the taxi.” Jeongin was still suspiciously glaring at him, then looked at you, face immediately relaxing, “Okay. The drivers really hate waiting, so I suggest you go soon, Y/N.”

Your decision was suddenly settling in and becoming more real. You gave him a nod, “Right. I’ll get going then.”

You stepped past Hyunjin, brushing his shoulder, and a part of you was satisfied that he didn’t have as big of an effect on you as he used to. You didn’t stop dead in your tracks because of him. You’d decided what you would do, and nothing Hyunjin could say would change your mind. It seemed like he was still catching up to this new information you’d dumped on him. His face was in disbelief as you passed him, and you hurriedly descended the stairwell. If you stopped to think about this decision, you might regret it, or you might cry, and you weren’t going to let either happen. The front door was in sight, and chills ran up your skin the closer you got. Your head was pounding with the weight of this hurried decision. You won’t regret this. You couldn’t. Daejon was your home, and you needed to be there.

Through the fog of your thoughts, you heard Hyunjin call your name. At first, your name sounded like a realization, and then it was more in desperation. The taxi waiting for you honked loudly, and you paused at the front door. Hyunjin’s footsteps were loud in the atrium, and he was running down the stairwell. He was running to catch up to you. It was a stupidly dangerous thing to do. He could fall or trip. That was the only reason you stopped, turning around in frustration, “What are you doing? You could get hurt.”

He gripped the rusty railing, and his coat flew behind him as he caught up to you, breathless, “What’s going on? Can you please just tell me?”

“It’s stupid to run down the stairs. What were you even thinking?” You frowned, heart calming down at seeing that he was okay.

“I’m not thinking.” His teeth grit together, and he was still breathing heavily, voice hoarse, “I don’t understand. Can you just please talk to me?”

“What part?” A sorry laugh escaped you, “I told you. I’m going back home. That’s it. There’s nothing more to tell. Goodbye, Hyunjin.”

He reached out, grabbing your arm to stop you, “No, but why?”

You weren’t going to tell him about what happened. Of course not. “I don’t know Hyunjin. There’s nothing in the city for me to stay for. Why are you even here? I thought you said you couldn’t be a part of my life.”

Hurt flashed across his face, which you couldn’t even comprehend. How could he be hurt right now after he’d pushed you out this whole time? You’d been in the same city as him for months, yet he never reached out to you, or apologized. He couldn’t just suddenly want something else when it was convenient for him.

“But…what about the classes? What about Kim Jieong? He wouldn’t want you to leave.” He knew nothing about your time in the classes, he had no right to question you now. You squeezed your eyes shut, and all the emotions you suppressed came up. Just then, the taxi honked again, and the phone in your pocket started buzzing too. You looked at the caller ID. Felix was calling and you picked up, eyes on Hyunjin’s briefly, “Yes, Lix?”

“Have you left for the train station yet, love?” He was concerned, so full of care for you. Your heart softened, and your voice dropped as you held the phone tightly to your ear, “No, I’m on my way. I’ll keep you updated, okay?”

“It’s getting late. I’m worried about you.” He spoke. Hyunjin was staring at you as you took the phone call. Your gaze briefly flickered over him. Even now, after running down the stairs and walking through a freaking snowstorm, he looked like some kind of angel. There was snow all over his coat and his hair. His nose and cheeks were dark pink, and his lips were still bitten raw. “Don’t be worried. I’ll be home soon,” You mumbled, calming Felix’s tendency to worry about you. Felix had an unspoken excitement in his tone, “Okay. Love you. See you soon.”

You swallowed, highly aware of the man in front of you, “Love you too.” It’s as if those words changed the atmosphere. Hyunjin’s tense shoulders dropped as if resigning to a chosen fate. When you hung up, pushing the phone into your pocket, Hyunjin spoke, “So you’re just leaving? That’s it?”

“Yeah. What would you want me to do? Say goodbye? Maybe I would have, if I still had any way of contacting you,” You said. A taunt and petty jab, sure, but it was also the truth. Hyunjin wasn’t there when you needed him, so why was he here now?

He closed his eyes in regret. He couldn’t argue that. He knew it was the truth. After all, you two were practically strangers right now. You didn’t know what was going on in his life. You didn’t have any of his information. Yet he was here, in your apartment building. Curiosity tickled you, and you tilt your head, “Why did you even come here tonight, Hyunjin? Did something happen?”

His eyes pierced through yours, “I… wanted to talk to you. I would have come before, but… I’ve been traveling all month, I couldn’t help it”

“Right. Japan. Must have been nice.”

You were aware you sounded like a bitch, but that was the only way you could distance yourself, so leaving him behind would hurt less. Except that would only work if he let you leave. He grabbed your arm again, pulling you close, “Y/N… what’s going on? Please…tell me what’s wrong.”

His eyes seemed so sincere. He seemed so sincere. And concerned for you. Your heart squeezed in worry. He must be so confused. If you really wanted to hurt him, you would leave right now with no explanation. It would show him how you felt, how it felt to be on the other side of things, to be cut off like this. But you weren’t him, so you’d at least try to offer an explanation.

“Hyunjin…” Before you could continue, the cab outside honked twice impatiently, and you realized all your suitcases were in the trunk. If the driver got pissed and drove off, your stuff would be gone too. Not that there was anything you still cared for in it. But you panicked, “Fuck…I would like to explain, but I don’t have the time. He’ll leave, and all my stuff’s with him. I’m sorry, you’re too late, Hyunjin.”

His face dropped into despair and that was all you had time to register before you turned away, walking out the door. The taxi was parked right outside with the engine running to preserve warmth. The apology was already on your lips, “I’m sorry sir. I got held up.”

The driver looked pissed as hell, and he glanced at you from his window, “You’re heading to the station? Because it seems like you’re wasting my time.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

He rolled his eyes, slurring words, “Either get in, or take your shit and get out”

“Don’t talk to her like that.”

Oh god.

Hyunjin had followed you out, obviously having overheard this. You turned to him, “I got this, okay? You don’t need to—”

“Dude, I have other customers too!” The guy yelled at him, clearly pissed by how Hyunjin talked back, “I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Hyunjin was staring at him, eyes narrowed in annoyance. You didn’t know how he’d react. You’d never seen this side of him, and you reached out to him, “Hyunjin, whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t”

He bypassed you, stepping up to the guy, leaning in to rest on the driver’s side window, “How much?”

“What?” The guy spat back.

“How much does she owe you?” Hyunjin repeated in a calm tone. The taxi driver was eyeing him back, “For this nonsense, three hundred thousand won”

You almost laughed, “What?”

“Okay,” Hyunjin replied, and before you could even comprehend what was happening, he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He took out his credit card, and handed it to him calmly, “Please open the trunk”

The guy also didn’t seem to believe it, and he was wide-eyed, grabbing Hyunjin’s credit card to swipe it. And then with ease, Hyunjin grabbed your suitcases, pulling them out and settling them down on the curb.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, sir. I hope you have a good night,” Hyunjin said to him, still in a calm voice that contrasted with the drivers’. The guy looked up at him, “Yeah. Whatever, dude.”

And then he drove off in a plume of smoke and snow.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin?”

You’d been too shocked to process the state of things. Hyunjin looked back at you, the ever-present image of calm, “Can we go inside?”

You stepped up to him, in disbelief, “No, no, we fucking can’t. That was my ride. Why did you just pay him off? And three hundred thousand won? Are you insane? He completely ripped you off! And why the hell are you making decisions for me?”

“If you really want to go, I’ll drive you to the train station, but I’m not letting you get into a car like that, he seemed wasted.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms, “You’ll drive me to the train station?”

“Yeah, I will, if it means you’ll be safe.”

“From how you’re acting right now, you seem pretty wasted too.”

“Look.” He suddenly said, “Kairi told me you haven’t responded to her texts in a week. She got worried—”

“And she sent you here to check up on me? Kairi should know better.”

Hyunjin ignored your jab and continued talking, “And clearly she was right to be worried, because you’re moving out in the middle of the night in a freaking snowstorm!”

“I don’t owe you an explanation. Not really.” You stared at him, hugging yourself tighter. The snow was coming down heavy, wind building up so you could barely even hear each other. He seemed unaffected by every attack of yours, “I know you don’t…but… she’s worried about you. The least you could do is tell her what’s going on.”

You glared at him, “So you’re only here for her, right? If I call her right now, you’ll leave?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, sighing, “No…I’m worried about you too. I…don’t understand.”

Of course, he was worried now, the only time it seemed to matter the least. You were freezing, and the time for leaving seemed to have come and gone. You could book another taxi, but the snow was only growing, and there was still time for your train, so it wouldn’t make any sense to stand outside in this terrible weather. So you said, “Yeah. Sucks not to know things, doesn’t it?”

Hyunjin ignored the taunt yet again, and picked your suitcase up, “Can we please just wait inside?”

So, you didn’t argue for once and let him follow you back inside. It was just a matter of time, but this meant you’d need to have an actual conversation with Hyunjin, and you were dreading that.

“You live on the top floor?” He asked, looking up the atrium. You took your bag from his hands, “Yup. I’ll take that.”

“What, no” He didn’t let you, pulling it back, “You’re not carrying that up.”

It wasn't even heavy but you gave in, too tired to protest, letting him follow you up the stairs to your apartment. You were so annoyed that you only just realized that this meant he’d see where you live. You suddenly felt embarrassed. The stairwell was rickety and shabby. Your apartment was so small, it felt like a joke. And he’d see it. Maybe this was a bad decision, but it didn’t matter anymore what he thought. He probably already thought terrible things about you. He certainly wouldn’t have ignored you for months if he didn’t.

You pushed open your door, and he stepped in tentatively. There wasn’t really much for him to see, yet his eyes traveled across the entire space and all your furniture as he took it in. He’d never even seen your room in Daejon. So he must think you live like this all the time. Poorly and with no taste. It was laughable how different you two were.

“No art?” He questioned, staring at the empty, barren walls. A pang hit you as you realized, “I got rid of it.”

He glanced at you, eyes wide, “Oh.”

You sat on the armrest of your couch, facing him, and he still stood at the threshold, processing your apartment. He seemed weirdly fascinated with it and asked, “Can I come in?”

“You’re already like, halfway in, so yeah” You mumbled. He stepped inside, for real, shutting the door behind him. This all felt so insane. Hyunjin was in your fucking apartment. Why? You thought you’d got rid of all the anger in you, but you certainly hadn’t. Your conversation with Minnie and Jamie came back to you too. He used you, because you’re so fucking nice. They like the thrill of the chase, and when they actually get the girl, they’re bored of her. Is that why he was interested in you again? That’s probably why he was chasing you again.

“So…um, I know you don’t owe me an explanation, but what about your friends? Kairi…and the people from your classes. Do they know why you’re leaving in the middle of the night?”

You stared at him, observing his expressions. If you told him about Kim Jieong, you’d have no idea how he’d react. You mumbled, “No. They don’t. It doesn’t concern anybody but me.”

He nodded slowly, hurt flashing through him, “Okay. Can…we talk about something else then?”

You crossed your arms, unsure what he even meant, “Yeah. We can talk about how my train leaves in three hours, so I have to be at the station before then.”

He swallowed, “You’re…not going to show me around your place? This is the first time—”

“From where you’re standing, you already saw all of it,” You replied, feeling embarrassed despite not wanting to care. He nodded, “Oh. So…you sleep on the couch?”

You let out a dry laugh at that. Obviously, he was right to assume that based on what you said, but it was still funny because it could have actually been true. You’d been so stupidly fucking desperate for the city you’d have literally slept on a park bench if you had to. Hyunjin frowned at your laughter, “I…I was just asking. Sorry”

“No, I sleep in my bed, which is in my bedroom and I don’t really see why you’d care about that, so…can you cut to the chase and tell me why you came to my apartment in the middle of the night, in a snowstorm?”

He swallowed, resting his head against your front door, “It wasn’t snowing when I left…”

“Oh, right. That’s inconvenient for you. You wouldn’t have come if it was.”

“No, I still would’ve come.” His eyes narrowed, “Please…just…can you talk to me normally?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I understand that you’re pissed at me, but I just want to have a conversation. I came here because I was worried about you. I would have come sooner if I could, but with my work it’s impossible. So please…can we just talk?”

No, you couldn’t because if you 'just talked’ to him, you’d remember how crazy in love with him you still were, after all his repeated rejections and ghosting, and not wanting you. You changed the topic, “You know that cab driver ripped you off, right? That ride isn’t worth that money.”

Hyunjin swallowed, “I know. But…he was drunk, and it’s not safe for him to drive anyone. With that amount, he wouldn’t have to take any more customers for the night. It’d be enough for the week.”

So he was still kind to everyone except you. Even to your wasted taxi driver. Good to know.

“There. I answered your question. Are you going to be answering mine?” He spoke, for once matching your fervor and energy. You stared at him, “Which question? You asked me, like ten.”

He sighed, stepping away from the door, and closer to you. He was so tall, he really did make your apartment seem small. He was almost as tall as your couch. You gripped the sides of the armrest, looking up at him. His face traversed many expressions like he was struggling with the right thing to say, and then he spoke, “Are you okay?”

You chose to be honest, chewing on your lower lip as you admitted, “I will be when I get home.”

His face fell, like he’d been expecting something else, and his whole body seemed tense. You suppose it was a valid reaction because this had been your dream, so he couldn’t possibly understand why you were running away. “But…”

“But what?” You asked, looking up at him, not wanting to leave any breathing room for emotions because now was not the time. If you went down that spiral, you’d never come back out, “It’s your turn to answer now. I still can’t understand why you’re here, after our conversation in the car.”

He contemplated for a second, looking away, and then back at you, saying, “I came here to make sure you were okay… that’s why I got on the first flight back home.”

You stood up, staring at him, “Flight back from where?”

“Bangkok.” He stated, a tinge of embarrassment in his features, “We had a schedule there…a show, but Kairi told me that you hadn’t responded to her texts, she was really worried…I had to come back.”

You stilled, and he surprised you for the first time that night. “What about the others?”

“The rest of the band is still there.” He spoke, “I just… couldn’t wait”

“You…took a flight for this?” You were having trouble processing this. He nodded, resignation and disappointment in his voice, “But clearly I should’ve come sooner.”

For a second, you allowed yourself the luxury to wonder if things would be different, had he come sooner. If things had been different, had he never left you at all. You couldn’t even imagine the other side of things — a reality where he stayed with you all this, and maybe all those bad things wouldn’t have happened to you. You couldn’t blame Hyunjin for everything that went wrong in your life after he left, but it sure seemed convenient to blame him. A myriad of thoughts overwhelmed you. He was confusing you too much. You needed to get out of this city, far away from here, and it felt like you were suddenly leaving with no good memories. Hyunijn was looking at you so deeply, so you swallowed your pride, “Can you do me a favour, Hyunjin?”

“Anything. What is it?”

“Can we just…stop by the Atelier before you take me to the station?” You asked, hoping he would oblige you in this last request since he seemed far too eager anyway, “Please.”

“Oh. Okay.” Defeat sank into his shoulders as he realised you had indeed made up your mind. Maybe he expected to hear something else from you. He didn’t protest though, because he had already agreed. In deafening silence, he led you to his car, which was parked around the block. When he opened the trunk, you saw his own suitcase. A simple black suitcase. He really had just come from the airport. It shocked your heart in a way you’d craved for all this time. When Yeonjun had come home to make up with Hana, you’d wished that someone would love you that much, to fly across the country for you. And Hyunjin did even more than that. He flew from another country… Yet you didn’t know what to make of it. He only came because Kairi was worried for you.

He carefully placed your bags next to his, as if anything was fragile in them but your clothes. He was uncannily quiet as he drove you, and you had nothing left to say. You watched the passing skyscrapers, and craved for the quiet of the mountainside back home. The Atelier wasn’t too far from your place, and he already seemed to know the way.

“So why are we here, Y/N?” He asked, as you both stared up at the towering glass building that was home to your classes. Seeing it now in the dark, it was one of the prettiest buildings you’d seen, built like art, for artists. You remember seeing it on the front page of the brochure you’d found years ago, and it had decided the trajectory of your life. It was still snowing, flakes falling on the two of you, and it was so cold in the parking lot. You owed him an explanation so you spoke, “This last week, I was working on a painting. It was becoming something really special, but… I forgot it in the classroom. I’d like to take it with me when I go.”

“Oh.” He simply nodded like it made all the sense in the world, not questioning this stupid request, and followed you to the front door. Obviously, nobody was here. It was after hours, and no security guards were in sight. You stared at the revolving doors, trying to figure out a plan. “Is it locked?” Hyunjin asked you, sounding impatient in this weather, “You don’t have the access card?”

If you entered the building with your keycard, it’d send a notification straight to Kim Jieong. That’s how he’d known you were here the last time. The memory sent you a shudder, and the last thing you wanted was to bump into him. You bit your lip, “Wait. I’m thinking.”

The cold was making you do stupid things, like shifting closer to him, so your shoulder would brush his. Simple body heat. Even through your thick coat, and his, the touch sent a flutter to your stomach. Hyunjin glanced at you as you did that, and his lips were becoming icy cold, “Well… it’d be nice if you could think faster. I wouldn’t want to die of hypothermia before you figure it out.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sudden sass in his tone, “Are you done?”

“Give me your keycard, let’s just go in.” He let out a breath, fog leaving his mouth. You frowned, not wanting to explain the whole story, “I don’t have one. It’s deactivated.”

“Okay…” He sighed, looking around the facade, “Is there another entrance we can use?”

You thought over his words. You had an idea. It was a stupid idea. You shrugged, hands deep in your coat pockets, “The back door.”

“Well, why don’t we just use that?” He asked. You shot him a tight smile, “It’s technically off-limits.” It was the emergency stairwell. You’d heard enough lectures about it, but you didn’t care right now. That was the only way to get into the building. You’d just have to suck it up. “I’m going to have to…technically break in.” You stepped ahead. His eyes widened, and he reached out to stop you, “What?”

“Only technically. You should probably go back to the car, because if someone comes here, I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble. It could hurt your…reputation.”

“No, it could put us in jail.” He stated matter-of-factly, and the cold must make him more sassy or annoyed or something. You didn’t have time for this. You sighed, crossing your arms, “That’s exactly why you should wait in the car. I promise I’ll be quick. I’ll grab my stuff and come.”

He let out a forced laugh, and there was a shiver in his voice, “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll be quick,” You reassured him. He stared at you, deadpan, “You’re not going in there by yourself.”

You frowned at his displaced concern, “It’s just an art school, Hyunjin, nothing’s going to harm me in there”

He glanced up at the towering building that did look kind of ominous right now, “You don’t know that. I’m not taking any chances.”

You felt frustrated because he was only protesting and not offering any solutions, “Well, you’re not stopping me, Hyunjin.”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

“What?” You scoffed, “I’m breaking in. If somebody finds out, you’re going to get into trouble—”

“I don’t care.” He interrupted you harshly and then took a breath, repeating, “I don’t care if I get into trouble. I’m not letting you go in there by yourself.”

Your eyes widened, watching him. Did he really not think of the consequences? He spent all his life protecting his public image, and now he was willing to risk it for you? His words sent an unpleasant feeling down your spine. He cared. He cared about you to the point that he was okay with being caught. That was a new kind of feeling you couldn’t process. All this while, you’d prioritised Hyunjin’s needs and the consequences in his life because he was so much more important than you. This was new.

“Are you sure?” You asked. He glanced at the building and then around the abandoned parking lot as if he was seriously reconsidering this absurd request. You saw the hesitation in his posture, his lips parting as if to say no he was only joking, and he would never do something as stupid as this. Then his eyes landed on yours. They flickered over your face, the cold in his gaze melting into strange tenderness, “Of course I’m sure. I can’t let you go alone.”

“Fine.” You nodded, breath coming out in a cold puff, “We should be quick.” He followed you to the back of the building, the big glowing EXIT sign, and the notice that read, ‘This is not an entrance. Please use front door access’

You sucked in a breath for good measure, pushing the door open, and when no immediate alarms rang, you stepped in. Hyunjin followed you into the darkness, and you switched on your phone's flashlight to guide you. You were still shivering. There was no heating in here, and he asked, “Now what, Y/N?”

“My class is on the top floor,” You whispered, just in case someone was in the stairwell.

“I’m guessing we can’t use the elevator?” He deadpanned. You gripped the handrail, “Yeah. Using the elevator’s too risky. If someone’s still in the building, they’d realise.”

“This painting must be really important to you.” He spoke, following you up the stairs into complete darkness. The Atelier was fancy, but this stairwell…was not. It was industrially exposed, the sound of a loud generator buzzing and a flickering light above you. There was a constant banging sound that you guessed was from the pipes in the wall. You tried not to overthink this situation, where Hyunjin was breaking and entering with you in your dream academy. Each little sound was putting you on edge. You heard him mutter, “This is really creepy.”

Over your shoulder, you peeked at him. He had his flashlight turned on too, and it shone into his face, dark shadows over his jaw and lips. “Are you afraid?” You asked. He shook his head, “Let’s just get this over with, Y/N.”

You climbed the rest of the floors in silence, preserving your voice and breath. It was still freezing in here, and you did feel bad that you’d dragged him along for this. But out of everything, this was the least he could do. Even though you wouldn’t admit it, you probably wouldn’t have had the courage to come here alone, not after what happened the other night with Jieong. You were glad he insisted to come with you, even if you never would have expected him to in a million years. Finally, you reached the landing for the highest floor and stopped to catch your breath. There was a door marked ‘Rooftop Access’, that led to the greenhouse-studio.

“Do we exit here?” He asked, reaching out to the knob. As he pulled the door open, light flooded the stairwell from outside. The lights in the studio were usually always turned off, but if they were on.… The cogwheels in your brain clicked just in time.

“Stop!” You whisper-yelled, grabbing him by the coat and pulling him back towards you. He stumbled, losing his balance in the dark and you steadied him. He braced himself against the wall, unintentionally pressing you to it.

“What are you doing?” He whispered, eyes wide.

“The lights were still turned on. That means someone’s in there.” You breathed, heart racing fast. You could have easily been caught. You weren’t really worried for yourself because you had nothing to lose, but Hyunjin…you really didn’t want to get him into trouble, even if he was completely okay with the consequences. He squeezed his eyes shut, “Oh. Okay”

He stepped away from you, and you could hear his heartbeat. “You scared me” He mumbled, after a while. He reached up to fix his messy hair, moving it out of his eyes. “I didn’t know you were scared of the dark, Hyunjin.” You mumbled. He narrowed his eyes at you, “I’m not. I’m…scared of people yanking my arm suddenly in confined spaces.”

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” You touched his arm, brushing over the coat, wondering if you’d grabbed him too hard. Had you bruised him? He didn’t stop you, as if he enjoyed being fawned over and then spoke, “So what is our plan? Are we going to stand in the stairwell forever? I thought you were in a hurry to get to the station.”

“We’re waiting for them to leave, whoever it is” You mumbled, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall to rest, “I don’t want to run into anybody.”

“What if they decide to stay here the entire night?”

“They won’t. It must be a janitor. They’ll leave soon. Nobody even comes in after hours. The other night when I was—” You cut yourself short, not wanting to tell Hyunjin about the events of that night. He picked up on it though, tilting his head, “When you were what?”

You cleared your throat, “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

His lips pursed, but he didn’t question further. Suddenly, you heard footsteps. Hyunjin’s head whipped to the door, then to you, “Are they coming in here?”

Clearly he was still scared of being caught, despite all the talk of not giving a shit about the consequences. In panic, you pressed your finger to his lips, “Can you please be quiet?”

He instantly shut up, not that he had a choice with you shushing him like this anyway. His lips were soft to your fingertips, and you stared at each other in the low light of your flashlight. The footsteps sounded again, and you heard the elevator ding. Whoever was in the studio had just left. You were in the clear.

You retracted your hand, his saliva sticking to your fingers, and if it had been anybody else, you would have wiped it off immediately because that was gross. But with him…you didn’t care. You’d lick your own fingers to taste him, if he wasn’t standing right here. The thought crossing your mind was insane and you felt annoyed at yourself for trudging into that territory again. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with you the last time you met, and the time before that, and before that. Why were you so fucking weak around him? All your frustrations with him couldn’t seem to damper the attraction you felt. “They’re gone now” You mumbled, hoping to sound as emotionless and detached as you aspired to be, wiping your hand on your coat, and Hyunjin noticed that, his cheeks tinging pink.

“Let’s go” He slowly followed behind you into the elevator lobby, where the massive glass doors led to your studio. He looked confused, “I thought we were going to a classroom”

“Yeah. We are.” You replied curtly, pushing open the doors and walking onto the metal walkway. Plants drowned you on both sides, and your company's only telltale sound was his winter boots loud on the metal grate. Hyunjin was looking around in awe, he didn’t say anything, but his eyes would always give him away. He was awestruck. A small part of you was satisfied. You’d been dreaming of this reaction ever since you’d joined these classes. At least you got to see it before you left. He reached out, touching the petals of a dozen different flowers as you passed them, until you entered the studio space. You used to feel so much joy stepping in here. But it had always been coupled with sadness too —you’d been moving on from Hyunjin in this very space, and here he was, none the wiser.

“Shit. This is your classroom?” He stepped into the centre, doing a full circle, head tilted up to the glass ceilings. The view was so pretty at night, revealing the beauty of the lit-up skyscrapers. The famous city lights that Hyunjin loved.

“Yeah.” You nodded, walking over to the storage cupboards. You tried not to think of Kim Jieong and what had happened the last time you were here. You had a mission, a singular focus, and you ripped open the cabinets, rifting through them to look for your painting. It was a massive canvas, but maybe somebody had rolled it up and put them here. There was no way they’d throw it away, right? You’d been working on it so deliberately. They’d have to know it wasn’t trash. Kim Jieong wouldn’t do that to you either. But after looking through every cupboard, your heart sank. There was nowhere else it could be. Maybe he did throw out your artwork, because none of the paintings you’d made in the last few months were here. Shockingly, it seemed you knew nothing of him.

In defeat, you leaned against the desk, staring into the empty cupboard. You…had just wanted your unfinished canvas, as a stupid souvenir or something to take home with you so your time here didn’t feel wasted. You’d poured so much energy, hours of research and experience behind it. It was the first art piece in the city you’d genuinely been excited about, and now it was just…gone. Like it never existed in the first place, and you’d only been gone a week but it felt like you were already being erased.

A short laugh interrupted you. You turned to see Hyunijn bent over a telescope that looked out into the city, “This…is a dream. Holy shit.”

“I’m glad you like it” You mumbled, fiddling with your coat as you stayed in place. At least someone was having a good time. He glanced at you, cheeks red, and stood up straight, “This…is the coolest art studio I’ve ever been in.”

“Yeah. It is pretty cool”

“The range of this thing…is insane. I actually think I can see a planet from here” He spoke, focusing on the telescope again. It was cute, his tall frame bent over the telescope that was meant for much shorter people. He was so easily excited about things, like he had forgotten you’d broken into this building, and that you’d been arguing with each other less than an hour ago. It reminded you of how fixated he would get on the things he loved.

“A planet? Wow…” You mumbled.

“Do you ever use it in class?” He asked, excitement in his tone.

“No…I never got the chance to.” Your voice dropped, trailing off at the what-ifs and your missed opportunities. You were running away from the place you’d dreamed of for so long. All because of a stupid man. It wasn’t fair to you. Nothing about this was fair. Why had you worked so hard for it to be thrown away? He blinked at you, as if he noticed the sadness in your voice, “Do you want to?”

“I don’t really know how it works.” You swallowed, staring at the empty cabinets, and your heart felt so heavy, like a huge weight was pressing down on it, and you couldn’t breathe right. All of the anxiety bubbled up in your throat, filling your lungs with it too. Your lip quivered, a tremble traveling through your spine, and the heaviness in your chest was only getting worse as reality set in. You were never going to be in here again. So much for chasing that dream.

“Come here.” Hyunjin’s soft voice broke your avalanche of despair. You sucked in a breath, hoping any tears would disappear and glanced at him. He stood against the large floor-to-ceiling window, hands around the telescope, the city as his majestic backdrop. You didn’t want to protest. This was your last night in the city, you might as well indulge in it. You walked over to him, and each step felt like so much effort, your boots loud in the quiet room.

“Stand over here” He said, his voice low but filled with excitement. “Did you forget we’re in the middle of committing a crime right now?” You couldn’t help but say, wondering if it’d snap him back to reality, if he would stop being such a romantic. His lip curled up into a smile, and Hyunjin was so pretty in the moonlight, voice dropping into a secret, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

God. His words sent chills down your body, momentarily displacing that heaviness. A secret night with him. The temptation was screaming. You stepped up to the telescope, bending down to the eyepiece. Hyunjin grabbed your hands without hesitation, placing them in the proper position on the metal tube. His voice was tender as he explained, “Now, put your hands here, and try to look through the eyepiece in that direction.”

Had you completely derailed from the plot? Your train home was in a few hours. Each second being here was literally a crime. Still, you indulged him, squinting to see where he’d pointed it. You could only see black and perhaps you weren’t special enough to see magnificent things such as celestial planets. You felt frustrated, trying really hard to see, but it was a big blob of nothing.

“Do you see it?” He asked, voice a whisper. You saw nothing of significance.

“No…never mind.” You breathed, standing up straight with disappointment. “Wait…” He spoke, quick to want to fix it, “Can I…?”

You shrugged, not understanding what he was asking. He grabbed you by the waist, adjusting you slightly. His hand curled around your thick coat, and you wished he was touching your skin. He was so close to your body. Your breath was stuck in your throat, and then he said, “Can you try now? Bend down again.”

You followed his instructions like they were the words of god. You tried not to fog up with the eyepiece with your breath and to focus on the view, but Hyunjin was touching you and standing behind your body, so how could you possibly focus? You mumbled, “I just see…a big white spot.”

“That’s it” He whispered, leaning down, his mouth brushing against your ear, “That’s Jupiter, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you gripped the tube tighter for a better hold, “But it’s just a speck of light…”

He chuckled, breath warm on your ice-cold skin, “I know, we’re so far away from it, but it’s bigger than we can ever imagine. You see those two circles in the centre? Those are the cloud belts.”

“I see them.” You spoke, suddenly feeling so small. It was so huge, a real-life planet, and from here it was just a speck in the sky. Your place in the world felt even more trivial. It was so majestic. You tried to imagine all the pictures of Jupiter you’d seen, placing them into this context. Hyunjin’s hand was still on your waist, not that you could feel it much through the clothes, only a ghost of a touch. You straightened up, and he left his grip on you as you asked, “How do you know so much about this?”

He shrugged, like it was no big deal, “I’ve been doing some reading. We’re lucky the snow stopped. Usually, nothing is visible. The lights and cloud cover are too much.”

You stepped away from the telescope, wondering where he found the time to read up about this between his very busy life, “I see.”

He had a hint of a smile, “What did you think? It’s surreal, right?”

It was. It was so beautiful....

You suddenly felt sick to your stomach, “My painting isn’t here. We should go.”

The smile on his face dropped, and he nodded, voice returning to a normal octave, “Right. Where do you think it could be?”

“I don’t know” You sighed, and the weight on your chest was back, and you couldn’t look at him right now, “I checked everywhere. They probably threw it out. I should just go to the station, it’s getting late.”

“Oh. Right.” His voice sounded hollow. You didn’t want to leave him. But he wasn’t even here, was he? He was just…doing you a favour, and then he’d go back to not wanting you in his life.

“I can…help you look for the painting” He suggested, “Couldn’t it be in other places? We can check the rest of the building.”

“No, it’s gone. We came here for nothing. Please, let’s just leave.”

His shoulders dropped in disappointment, “This studio is beautiful. I’d…actually do anything to have a space like this to paint in, feels like I’d never run out of inspiration.”

You stared at him, wondering what point he was trying to make now. Then he said, “Why do you want to leave this, Y/N?”

You didn’t answer him, a horrible twisting in your gut, and glanced at the exact spot you’d been standing when Kim Jieong cornered you against the table, making all kinds of suggestions to you. You felt sick to your core again.

“It’s not because of me, right?”

You looked at him, feeling overwhelmed, and suddenly, the weight wasn’t pushing down but pulling you instead. You felt like you were drowning, lungs crushing with the force of being dragged down and you had tunnel vision, overwhelmed with everything, “What?”

“You’re leaving. Is it…because of me?” His voice was low, and his words were not helping. You couldn’t tell if Hyunjin was drowning you, or savi you right now.

A lump formed in your throat, forbidding you from speaking as you processed those words. Were you leaving the city behind because of him? Maybe. He was a big part of it, but you’d never run away from Hyunjin. You’d chase him forever if you could. How could he even think that it was cause of him? You bit your lip, “If it was because of you, I’d be gone a long time ago, Hyunjin.”

You turned to leave, and Hyunjin’s next words echoed through the large room, “Please don’t go.”

Your eyes widened at his…blatant, crude request. He’d done nothing but push you away. How could he ask you to stay?

“I know… I’m the last person who has the right to ask you to stay, but… there’s so much for you here. I know you would love it.”

You turned to face him, “Like…what?”

It’s like he didn’t expect you to actually humor him, and he blurted, tripping over his words, “You can’t leave without having seen Christmas. Everything’s…a blanket of snow, and it’s lit up, and the city lights…are so beautiful, Y/N. You can’t miss that. You can’t not see them.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, and you wanted to cry at this. What kind of reasoning was this? Hyunjin was asking you to stay, and you must be dreaming, right?

“Christmas is really far away, Hyunjin…”

He took another step closer, more confident like he'd found his reasoning now, “I know, but it’ll be so worth it. It’s my favorite time of the year. You’ll fall in love with it too. It seems like you hate this place, and it feels like my fault, but there is so much for you here. I’ve only been back a few months and I’ve already seen a hundred things you would love. You would appreciate them more than anybody, and I’ve thought of you every time. You belong here, not…in that town back home.”

It was so tempting, especially when he said it like that. “I can’t stay, Hyunjin”

He stepped even closer, “Why?” He asked, a desperation slipping through. He cared so much. You wish he had shown it before. It didn’t matter now. Things had immeasurably changed, in this very room. You had been trying so hard to not feel the weight of everything, but it was impossible. Not when he was looking at you like that.

The dam broke.

A single tear at first.

Then a sob. “Hyun…”

Immediately, without any question or hesitation, he closed the distance between you and pulled you into his arms.

His touch brought on a wave of tears. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest, pitiful sobs bubbling to the top. For the longest time, he just held you in his embrace and you cried. All you could register was his hold on you, and his heart racing against your ear. He squeezed you tightly, hugging you to him to pull you even closer to his body, “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“He…he tried to—” You sniffled, unable to form the words.

“What?” He tensed in your grip. He clearly hadn’t expected to hear anything of that sort, but his hand still ran circles over your back, “Who did what?”

“Kim…Jieong.” You mumbled, eyes squeezed shut in his chest, not wanting to burden him with this knowledge but your throat felt clogged with emotion that you couldn’t contain within yourself anymore, “He…said I could convince him”

You were aware that you made no sense, but it was enough for him to understand. Hyunjin pulled back, hands holding your shoulders as he looked at you, and his eyes were wide, “What? Did he touch you?”

“No…” You sniffled, lip trembling, “He…just…”

Hyunjin’s hand came up to your face, holding your chin unbeknownst that your professor had tried the same. You were only filled with terror when Kim Jieong did that, but right now…you felt the safest in the world. Your face was hot, his hand was warm on you. His thumb wiped your tears, the other hand holding your face tight, “What did he do?”

You shook your head, vision blurry from the tears in your lash line, and you had no idea how to explain this, “Hyunjin. I… don’t even know how to deal with this.”

“You don’t have to. That’s what I’m here for.” He said. You looked up at him, eyes blown wide, “What do you mean?”

He took in a breath, still holding you strongly, as his thumbs gently wiped the tears streaking down your face, and his soft gesture was a stark contrast to his next words, “Tell me what he did. I’m going to talk to that piece of shit.”

“No, you can’t. I…I don’t have any proof, Hyunjin and I don’t even know if he was trying something—” You trailed off, struggling with your words but he wasn’t even listening. He was staring into the distance, “I have to go talk to him.”

“What?”

He started walking out. What the fuck was he doing? You ran after him, tugging at his arm, “What are you talking about? It’s the middle of the night.”

He turned to you, his eyes were dark, and his jaw was clenched. and there was more emotion in his face than you’d seen in the past hour as he said, “He…he fucking touched you. He can’t… do that.”

“Oh my god, you can’t go after him”

“Why?” He asked, eyes searching yours. You weren’t equipped to deal with whatever anger he held in him. It seemed like Hyunjin had quickly forgotten who he was in this world. A world-famous celebrity who definitely couldn’t go after a renowned artist, especially not at this time of night. As much as you appreciated the gesture, it wasn’t thought out at all, and it pissed you off, “You don’t even know what happened, Hyunjin!”

“It doesn’t matter. I know enough.”

“Can you please just…calm down?” Your eyes widened, regret soaring through you, “I…I knew I shouldn’t have told you. It was a mistake.”

He frowned, stepping closer to you, “Fuck. Don’t… don’t say that. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to react. I just wanted you to listen.” You said. He let in a deep breath, like he was physically calming himself down, running his hands over his face, “Okay. I am listening. I just…need a second.”

You could see the anger surging through him, and you mumbled, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I’m…not thinking straight. I’m sorry, I just…”

“I should never have brought you here. I could have been on the train home already. You were right, okay? I am running away.” You admitted, lip trembling, “I’m sorry.”

His voice softened at your state, “What are you apologizing for? Stop. You didn’t do anything wrong”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, staring at the floor, and you realised you’d have to tell him the whole truth now, because you’d stupidly brought it up. You wiped at your face with your sleeve, but he reached into his coat pocket, handing you a tissue, “Let me…”

“You…carry tissues with you?” You vaguely registered through your clouded judgement, wiping your face. He was quiet for a minute, and you tried to collect yourself. You were embarrassed, and your face was burning hot from crying, and from the shame, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry…I ruined your coat.”

“Come here…” He led you to the nearest table, pulling you to sit next to him. He hesitated before reaching out, hand on your back as he spoke, “I’m sorry for reacting. I…I didn’t expect to hear that, but you can’t understand how this makes me feel. I know you don’t want to talk about it but I’m going to drive myself crazy if you don’t tell me what happened.”

He was right, and you probably would have reacted worse if someone had hurt Hyunjin. You would have lost your mind. You had thrust this information upon him unwillingly, and he did deserve to know the truth of it. Now that you tried to recall it, most of it felt like blanks in your mind and you muttered, “There’s an art scholarship that we were told about. It was a big one. If we won, it would pay for the rest of our year, and we could present our work in this gallery. It was supposed to be a huge honor. I was working on a painting for it the other night. I was here by myself…and…Jieong saw me working. I don’t…know how it led to that. I don’t remember most of it, but he said he liked that I was… desperate.”

“What?” Hyunjin interrupted you. You swallowed, “He said that I was desperate to be liked and respected and that I could go a lot of places in the world, if I…convinced him somehow. That all I had to do was ask him…and my dreams could come true.”

He scoffed, “By sleeping with him?”

“I don’t know. I left after that.” You mumbled, staring at the floor, “I was really confused.”

“He hurt you?”

You shrugged, a fresh wave of tears springing up, “No…at least not physically”

His hand reached out to yours, “I’m…really sorry that happened, Y/N.”

You pulled your hand back before he could touch it. You weren’t here tonight to seek Hyunjin’s comfort. You were just offering him an explanation so he wouldn’t be left in the dark after you were gone. You said, “But nothing even happened, Hyunjin. Nothing I can prove anyway. Except that he’s cancelled my scholarship.”

“He can’t do that” He said. You mumbled, “I missed out on an entire week of classes. He…has valid reason now.”

“Did you tell anyone?” He asked, “Any of your friends from class?”

As if having this conversation once wasn't embarrassing enough. You didn't plan to tell anybody else about it. It would be a secret you'd take to the grave. If you told people, all they'd question was your obsession to come here in the first place. After all, why would a married man come on to you at all, risking his career? You must have come on to him -- at least that's what everyone would think. You shook your head, “Nope…Just…you.”

“I’m…sorry that this happened. I wish I could…do something to help.” He spoke. You looked at him, unable to comprehend that he was being kind to you again. He was so tender and caring right now, but how long could this really last? The last time he was this tender was in the storage closet, and he’d kissed you so passionately and then immediately cut you off. Wasn’t this compassion just temporary? You stepped away from him, running a hand over your face to wipe away the dried tears, “Yeah. No biggie.”

He noticed the change in your demeanor, dropping his hands to his lap, but said nothing of it. You stared at the place where Jieong had tried to make a move, and where your canvas had been. You wish you hadn't come here that night at all, then you could have been blissfully unaware of his behaviour and stayed happy. The longer you stayed here, the sicker you felt.

“We should talk about this in my car.” Hyunjin said, offering his hand to you again. You stared at his soft palm and inviting touch, but you didn’t take it. If the rejection hurt him, he didn’t show it. You just hugged yourself, “Okay”

You followed him into the elevator lobby, about to head for the stairwell again, but he pressed the button for the elevator. You frowned, “We can’t go out the front door. If they see you—”

“I really don’t give a shit about that right now” He spoke, pushing a hand through his hair, and you noticed how tense he was, “If they catch me, I’d have a lot to talk to them about anyway.”

“But… this is not worth it.” You spoke, as the elevator doors opened. He took in a breath, facing away, running another hand through his hair, you realised he always did that when he was nervous, “I just… can’t believe they let an artist like that work with them.”

You steadied yourself against the elevator wall, as the floors went by. The doors opened into the lobby. You prayed that nobody was in there. No matter how much Hyunjin didn’t care, you didn’t want to cause a scene and you definitely couldn’t handle jeopardizing his job. If anybody saw you two… they could call the cops and he couldn’t afford to be put under scrutiny. It would risk his career and everything else that mattered. Uncaring of this, he stepped into the lobby, footsteps loud as he walked towards the front door. You followed, looking around and thankfully, the front desk was empty. The odds were in your favor, perhaps. He almost looked disappointed that there was nobody to confront as you exited the building. He was walking so fast, and you struggled to keep up as you made your way to the parking lot. Once you were sitting inside his car, you asked him, “You’re not going to do anything stupid, right?”

“I don’t know. He…needs to be fired. He can’t just get away with what he did to you. Once he gets fired, they’ll put in a new teacher, and…you can continue the classes. And for what they’ve put you through, they should grant you a new scholarship anyway, no questions asked. He should be the one to leave, not you.”

Before you could think about his words, your phone on the console buzzed, and you both glanced at it. He read it the same time as you. There was a text from Felix. have you made it to the train station yet, baby?

Hyunjin looked up at you, eyes that were suddenly devoid of anger, but…a new desperation, “Do you…still want me to take you?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of everything on your shoulders again. Your suitcases were packed and waiting in the trunk. Your train was booked. You’d made your decision. You stared at the window, “Your…plan sounds fine Hyunjin, but… I’m not important enough for them to fire their biggest artist ever. Nothing good can come out of me staying here with that false hope.”

His eyes flickered over your features before turning away. He started the engine, and said nothing, pulling out of the driveway. You tried to gather your emotions, watching the snow piled up by the sides of the street. Your first and last snow here. You imagined being home already. It would help so much. Felix, Minho and all your friends. You'd go back to working at the art shop. Maybe you could pay a grand and enroll in the classes at the Chateau, and practice art under Seungmin. Nothing would come out of it but at least you’d be occupied. Some people weren’t built for greatness, and you could be okay with that, unlike the boy next to you. Hyunjin suddenly spoke, hands gripping the wheel tightly, “It’s not false hope. Something like this can have serious repercussions. You should’ve told me the second he did that. He would already be out of his job by now.”

He was redirecting the conversation to him, when it was about you. Your head hurt at this faux chivalry. Did he really even care about Jieong or did he just want someone to pin his anger on? You stared at him, “I don’t even have your fucking phone number, Hyunjin.”

He stopped the car, bringing it to the side of the road. You hadn’t reached your destination yet, and you were in the middle of a random neighbourhood. You stared at him, unsure of what was going through his mind, “What are you doing?”

He reached into his coat pocket, took out two identical phones and handed one to you, “I was going to give you this tonight.”

You grabbed it from him, “What is this?”

“It’s…a phone with my number on it” He said, looking right ahead, “I bought it for you.”

Your brows raised, “You…bought me a phone?”

“And this one…” He lifted his own identical phone, which also seemed brand-new, “This is mine. The only thing on it… is your number.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s so we can talk to each other” He turned to face you, “And nobody can trace it back to us, The phone isn’t connected to anything else, except…to each other.”

You blinked, trying to process this, “Oh”

He looked frustrated as he spoke, “I know what I said to you last time. I know that I said we can’t be in each other's life, but… I’m trying my real hardest to find a fucking way around it. What I did and said was uncalled for. I realize that…it hurt you, but you have to cut me some slack, Y/N. I’m…really trying to figure it out.”

“I’ve cut you more slack than I ever would with somebody who’s made it absolutely clear they don’t want me around them” You blinked. He sighed, “I’m sorry. I understand that what I said hurt you, and…I really didn’t mean to. You know me, Y/N, better than anyone in my life and…I would never want to hurt you like that.”

“Then why did you say all those things…?”

He let out a sigh, turning to look at you, “I was only thinking about myself. I guess… I was running away too.”

You stared at him, the irony of tonight striking you. You were blaming him for what he’d done, when you were now doing the exact same thing.

All the fight died down in you.

“We’re more alike than I thought.” He mumbled. Maybe now you could finally understand where he came from. The urge to shut down and cut everybody out had felt far too tempting. You glanced at him, holding the phone tight in your hands. This could be the last time you saw him. He’d never come to Daejon, and you couldn’t afford to come back here. Was this really it? The last time you ever saw Hyunjin. A new emotion overwhelmed you, and you weren’t ready to say goodbye so soon. “Can you please just tell me something before I go?”

His hands rest on the steering wheel, and it seemed like he’d already given up on convincing you to stay. His question came out defeated, “What do you want to know?”

You stared at his side profile, “How did you get the pictures? The ones from the booth.”

“I…went back.” He responded, not questioning the randomness of what you’d just said. You were confused, “What? Went back here?”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, “Later that night, I went back to the summer carnival. After you’d already left. When we were in the booth, I deleted our pictures before they could be printed, but…they were still saved to the database. The machines have a backup server, they keep the data for a few hours before it’s overwritten.”

“How was that even allowed?”

“The guy that works there, I…asked him for a favor…and he obliged because well, it’s stupid…”

“Tell me.” You breathed, itching to know the story you’d been wondering for so long. His lip curled up into a reminiscent smile, “I promised to sign this album for his little sister. She really liked our band. Anyway, the guy, he let me access the backup, and…I printed them out.”

Your heart jumped at all of this effort, “Why did you do all of that after deleting them?”

He swallowed, “I changed my mind. I told you, Y/N…I wanted to remember that moment. I needed to.”

You looked away into your lap, “Oh…well…thank you for putting them in my sketchbook, but I’m sorry… I lost the pictures.”

“You what?” He looked at you. You breathed, feeling guilty, “They got ruined…so you did all of that for nothing.”

“Oh.”

There was no way for you to get them back. The summer carnival was long over, and the pictures were erased. It was strange how you two talked about them, clinging to a memory that was long gone, and he never questioned you and why you wanted them. He didn’t question why you were so fixated on them or what they could possibly mean to you. Hyunjin nodded, eyes glazing over you as if he lost deep in thought, “How did they get ruined?”

“They got wet in the rain.” You swallowed. He still seemed shocked at your previous statement, “So…you had them with you? I thought that you would throw them away, after we stopped talking…I thought you hated me.”

“You know me. I hold on to things stupidly, even if I was mad at you. Anyway, not that it matters now…” You shrugged. He nodded, like he was still in his head, and then he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He opened it, pulling out a strip. Your eyes widened.

He had them. In his wallet.

“You made a copy?” You couldn’t believe it. He let out a laugh, saying, “I went to a lot of effort for these, Y/N. Do you really think I wouldn’t have made a copy?”

“And… they’re in your wallet.” You realised. He swallowed, “Yeah”

“Have they been in your wallet this whole time?”

He blinked, “Yeah. In hindsight, it was a really stupid decision because if I ever lost it, anybody could have seen these. Guess I haven’t been thinking straight, but…you can have my copy”

You delicately grabbed it from him, and it was only worth a few coins but you handled it like it was worth millions. It was a treasured memory. A moment when you’d given in to each other completely, and you had been so happy then. You'd give anything to have those secret moments again, even if they stayed a secret forever. Nothing had felt as rewarding as his lips on yours, making you feel like he wanted you just as bad.

His copy was wrinkled, like he’d taken it in and out of his wallet a million times to look at it. Your copy used to be pristine, it stayed in your sketchbook but his…it was tattered with use. There were folds after every image, and you slowly moved your fingers over them. Your voice was soft, “Have you really changed your mind?”

“About what?” He asked, curiously. You looked at him, “You showed up at my doorstep. It must have been…for something.”

“I changed my mind about a lot of things…” He spoke, the dim streetlights reflecting in his eyes. Curiosity overwhelming you, your voice was a whisper, “You said you were running away too. What made you stop?”

In the darkness of the car, the shadows on his face were intense, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he said, “That night in the car. You said that… all this time you haven't been okay, and that you still aren’t and I couldn’t stop thinking about that. You said you didn’t know the real me, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Who I was in Daejon, that’s…the best version of me, and it took me a really long fucking time to realize that. It was an asshole move that I did. I know I apologized to you, but I wanted to do it again tonight. I’m…really fucking sorry for pushing you away, Y/N. I should have just explained what was going on.” He paused, “But…I guess I’m too late since you’re leaving anyway, right?”

You looked away from him to the snow on his windshield, “Yeah, what will I do in Seoul anyway?”

“He should be the one that’s scared of you, not the other way around”

“Why would he be scared of me?”

“Because you can literally ruin him, and his career. Who knows if you’re the first person he did this to?”

“Well, clearly nobody spoke up against him yet. He’s a legend. Nothing I say will change that, and I…really don’t want to deal with the repercussions of this. I just…want to stay away from it and pretend it never happened.”

He sighed, “I have to tell you about Karina”

“What?” You looked at him.

“She’s…a friend, I guess. A couple of months ago, I asked her if she could get me in touch with Jieong. I wanted to talk to him for you, but she said she isn’t on good terms with him. Something about the way she said it makes me think that she’s been through something similar, like you, and that’s not fair. He doesn’t just get to do that and still have a fucking platform where people worship him.”

Frustration crawled from your chest, “What am I supposed to do about that, Hyunjin?”

He squeezed the steering wheel, “I don’t know, but I’ll help you figure it out. You’ve wanted to come to the city your entire life, you even hid it from your friends, you worked every summer for it. You can’t just give that up so easily. You have to stay.”

“Stay and do what, Hyunjin?”

He turned to face you, shifting closer in the little space, and his voice was quaking with nervousness, staring right into your eyes, “I don’t know. We’ll figure that out too, but…I know you, and this isn’t you. What you did, coming here all by yourself, getting into the program, that wasn’t easy. You did something most people can only dream of, and I know I didn’t express myself well, and that I should have told you sooner but I’m… I’m so fucking proud of you. My first few years here, the only reason I could survive was the members but you…you did that all by yourself. But… you’re not alone, not anymore. If you want to report Jieong, I’m going to help you. If you don’t want to do that, I’ll respect your choice.” He swallowed to breathe, lip trembling, “If you want to stay away from that drama, I’ll understand, but please…please don’t stay away from me.”

Your eyes widened, hearing his plea, and your heart was beating so loud you feared it’d burst out of your chest. Your gaze searched his, and all you saw was honesty and…fear.

For the first time ever, you recognized the look on his face.

He was scared of losing you.

He had flown all the way here just to say this to you, and despite how horrible everything seemed…he was here with you. Your heart was shaking, unable to comprehend this side of Hyunjin, and you found yourself saying, “Tell me about the Christmas lights.”

His eyes lit up, “They… they’re beautiful. They cover the whole city with them, it looks like a dream and…you have to see it. If not for long, at least stay till then, and…you can make your decision after that.”

Your eyes flickered over his form, and the desperation in his face that made your heart beat faster than it had in a while, “Okay.”

He let out a breath like he couldn’t believe your words, “Okay?”

“The lights better be worth it, Hyunjin.” You spoke, and he laughed, at your words in slight disbelief and relief. You felt a strange sense of relief too, as he drove you back.

»»————-

Hyunjin was in your apartment again. He helped you bring the suitcases up, and he was breathing heavy as he shut the door. The snow had stopped, but the temperatures had dropped more. He rubbed his hands together, blowing on them. Your apartment wasn’t much warmer, but it was still a relief to be indoors, after the long night you’d had. You looked at him from across the room, standing in your little kitchen, “Do you…want tea?”

He stood out so much in this little space. He looked at you, “I can make it for us.”

“No, that’s fine…” You declined his offer, turning to your cupboard to bring out the little box of specialty tea you’d procured from a nearby market. In your peripheral, he simply nodded, looking around the living room. You’d unknowingly put as much distance between the two of you. Him being in your space made you so nervous. Earlier, you were in such a rush, but now…he could actually see things for what they were. You’d ripped your art from the walls, but other traces of you were still here. Your little tray of knick-knacks on your coffee table, the fluffy pink blanket on your couch, and the little plants that decorated the space. You hadn’t bothered packing them up, and now you were glad you hadn’t because you wouldn’t want to redecorate all over again. He stood still near the door, taking everything in.

“You can take your coat off.” You realised belatedly. He seemed uncomfortable in it, and it was wet from the snow. He looked at you, “Right. Okay.”

You’d taken yours off, and you stood in your white sweater. He slipped his coat off, and he wore a black turtleneck inside. He seemed so awkward. You were too. You knew that things wouldn’t just go back to normal, you couldn’t just pick up where you’d left off. Instead you watched the water in the pot boil, bubbles coming to the surface.

“Have you been to Myeondong yet?” He suddenly asked. You looked at him, stirring the water, “Uh, not yet. What is it?”

“You haven’t? It’s a popular street here. They have a lot of shops, boutiques and food. They have really good street food. I think you’d like it.”

“Do you go often?” You asked, and stopped yourself from suggesting that perhaps he could take you. He replied, “No, it’s…too crowded. I can go but the company doesn’t recommend it.”

You nodded, turning back to the pot, glad you hadn’t asked only to be shut down by him. It was stupid to think otherwise, “Right. You need their permission. Do they know you’re here?”

You heard a soft sigh, and perhaps you’d offended him, “No… I know it doesn’t seem like that but we can still do whatever we want. It’s not like we’re under constant supervision…it just feels like that because they’re not the only ones watching us, we also have to worry about the media, about…anybody with a camera who might see me.”

“I saw Baekhyun at a club once.” You blurted. His eyebrows shot up, “You did?”

“Mmh. He was making out with two girls at the bar, and nobody really seemed to care” You elaborated. He nodded, “Yeah. He’s famous enough to get away with it.”

You bit back a scoff, “Get away with what…? Kissing? You make it sound like a crime, Hyunjin.”

You were clearly more honest with him than you had been in the past, ridiculing all the crazy stupid standards of the industry he was a part of. Since when did people like him let a commercial, capitalist corporation decide how they live their lives? It irked you that Hyunjin gave into it so easily. Why didn’t he challenge it? Why was he just settling for it?

He seemed to have no response to your accusation, and instead said, “I thought you understood why things are the way they are.”

You did understand, at a point. When he kissed you for the first time, he had very kindly explained to you that he couldn’t let this become anything more. Yet it had. The phone he’d given you lay on the countertop, and you eyed it, “It seems like you really thought things through when getting me this phone. So what exactly happened…?”

“My managers found out about you.” He stated. You glanced at him, surprised how he said it so calmly when it had been his biggest fear, “What? How?”

“Yeah, they…overheard me and the boys at a party.” He said. You blinked, “You were talking about me at a party?”

“Be careful, the water’s going to boil over.” He stepped closer. You looked back at the pot, realizing this, and turned the stove off. He continued, “And yes. It was at the album release party. I called you that night”

“Oh” You recalled, and he had been drunk on the phone that night and you had wished to be next to him, “I remember…”

“So, anyway…they found out about you that night. It was my mistake…and they gave me a bunch of documents, and I don’t know I guess I kind of freaked out.” He came to stand opposite you, crossing his arms against his chest. His sweater was so tight on him and his arms bulged when he crossed them. You couldn’t help but notice. It was tucked into his pants, a thick belt holding them up. You leaned against your kitchen counter, facing him, “What kind of documents?”

“A…press release statement, and an NDA.” He cleared his throat, “I guess they thought we were dating.”

“Oh. So is that what happened then? Why you acted the way you did?”

“Some of it. I didn’t want to involve you in any of that legal stuff, and they didn’t believe me when I said we were just friends. Things were spiraling with Chan and the others, not that it’s their fault, but I…I guess cutting you out felt like the easiest choice to make at the moment.”

You looked away from him, a pang resonating in your chest at those words, and bitterness filled you. Maybe it was a mistake calling him here. Maybe he should leave. He noticed the drop in your expression, “Did I say something wrong?”

“It was easy?” Your voice was hollow in the little apartment, heart-shattering at his admittance.

“What?”

You glanced at him, “Cutting me out was easy for you?”

He gulped, staring at you and his eyes burned through you, as his lips parted to say, “No, it was…the hardest thing I ever did.”

For some reason beyond your understanding, you believed him. Everything in you wanted to believe him. It was a genuine response.

“The tea,” You said, realizing you’d forgotten it. You wanted to ask him a lot more about how the past months had been in your absence, but you’d take it slow. This was a lot for one night.

He stood up straighter, “Yeah.”

You turned around, reaching into your cabinet to take out two little mugs. You didn’t have much crockery, you hardly had people over much, and Hyunjin stepped up to help you. “Is everything you own pink?” He asked, taking the little mug from you.

You looked at him, embarrassed, “Just the mugs…”

“And the blanket…” He pointed out, looking at you. A little, teasing smile tugged at his lips. You fought your own smile, “Just drink the tea, okay Hyunjin?”

He nodded, smiling still, and poured the water into yours and his, levelling them the same. He dropped the tea bags in it, and handed it to you. You grabbed it from him, loving the warmth on your hands, “Oh. This is hot.”

He agreed, testing out a sip, “It’s nice. It was freezing outside”

You nodded, “You can sit, if you want.”

“No, that’s okay.” He shook his head and walked over to your kitchen window, bending down to peer out, “Do you keep it open always?”

“Yeah. I…like the sounds,” You told him, taking another sip, but you ended up burning your tongue, and you sighed, putting your mug away, “I heard you were in Japan. How was it?”

He had his hand out the window now, tracing the melted snowflakes that lay on the ledge, and he spoke, “Tiring, but…beautiful.”

“Kairi told me you were there for an award show?”

He turned to you again, snowflakes disintegrating in his palm, “We were”

“Did you win?”

He laughed, smiling at you, “Yeah. We won…a few. Album of the year.”

“That’s really nice.” You said, warmth blooming in your chest, “You deserved it, I’m sure.”

He laughed again, “You don’t even know who we were up against.”

“Well…” You traced a circle on the kitchen slab, “I don’t, but I heard your album. The day it came out. It was…really nice, Hyunjin.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know you listened to it.” He had a little smile as he spoke. His hair fell into his face, but some of it was tied up behind his head. Him standing with the tea in his hands, in the dim lighting of your kitchen, made him look like a dream.

Your phone buzzed, dragging both your attention to it. Felix was calling.

“Uh, I should take this.” You told him. Hyunjin’s smile fell, giving way to another neutral expression and he just nodded, “I can head out, if you want me to.”

You looked at him. You wanted him to stay but…for what? Things were awkward, and you were so overwhelmed. Plus, it’d probably be a long call explaining to Felix that you’d actually decided to stay, and that you’d only panicked beforehand. You didn’t look forward to that conversation. Hyunjin was ready to go now though, and you wished he would stay. You wished he would once again ask you to stay. All of his passion from earlier had settled into…awkwardness, like he didn’t know what to do with himself after such a heavy confession, after begging you to stay.

You spoke, “You haven’t finished your tea.”

He looked down at his mug, and he’d been drinking extra slow or maybe he’d poured more tea for himself just so he could stay here longer and find an excuse to talk to you, “But…Yongbok…”

Your phone kept buzzing, vibrating on the counter. You didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat, “You should talk to him, he must be worried. I… think it’s best if I go, and I should be back at the dorm before morning. I don’t want to raise any suspicion. When I took the early flight here, I told the company it was because I was sick, so…they’d be expecting me to be at home.”

Your heart deflated, and you agreed, “That makes sense.”

There was such a strange bond. You could be angry at him all you wanted, but he was the only person you could be yourself around. The only one who brought you comfort, just by his mere presence, even if he said nothing. You had no idea what the two of you were right now, but you were warming up to him again, and things could almost be okay if this continued.

“But if you want me to stay here with you tonight, I can.” He added, “I don’t…want you to feel alone, not tonight.”

But what about every other night? You would always feel alone without him. Your eyebrows shot up at his suggestion, “I don’t know, Hyunjin. I…I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

He nodded, “You’re right. I should go. That’s probably the right thing to do.”

“Okay.” You swallowed. He put his mug away, unfinished tea, and then approached you, “If you…need something, my number is on that phone. You can call me, anytime. Don’t worry about disturbing me or anything.”

“Yeah. Okay”

He exhaled a breath, “I’ll see you soon, then. Goodnight.”

He was so close to you that you could smell the cologne, and you could smell him. His shampoo, or whatever it was. It smelled so good. You forced a smile at him, “Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

He walked to your living room, grabbed his coat, and slipped it on.

You stood where you were, not wanting to be that close again, not trusting yourself with what you might do and regret. He looked at you from the door, “I’m…really sorry about what happened, with…Jieong, again. You don’t deserve that. Nobody does, but…yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s…not your fault.” You told him, the constantly buzzing phone not letting you think straight.

“I know, but…I should have been there for you. I’m sorry about that too, but…call me if you need me, please.”

Your heart was crumbling, not being able to comprehend this. After all these months of sadness, was he really in your life again? None of this felt real. It was like a dream you’d conjured up to stop yourself from being so sad, but he was here, right now in your apartment. He turned the knob, and you blurted, “Wait—”

He looked back at you immediately, eyebrows raising in hope, “Yes?”

You stepped up, eliminating the distance between you, looking up at him, “Do you really mean it?”

His eyes searched yours, “Yeah.”

“You won’t get in trouble? If I contact you? What if…your managers find out about the other phone? Will you have to block me again?”

Hyunjin stared at you, and there was a determination in his eyes that you’d never seen, and a confidence, “They won’t find out.”

“If they do?”

He swallowed, gaze falling to your mouth briefly, “I’m willing to take that risk.”

“Oh.”

Your phone kept buzzing. He spoke, “You should really take that call. He would be worried.”

“You’re right.”

He glanced at you one last time, before leaving.

You picked up your phone, voice shaky. You told Yongbok you’d decided to stay and when he asked you why, you didn’t know what to say. All your reasoning had blended into a mush of emotions and longing. Hyunjin must have said something really convincing back in the car, but you couldn’t remember what any of it was. You just knew that it had worked. You talked to him for the rest of the night. It was chilly and you should have gotten into bed, but you lingered in the kitchen for hours. It still smelt like him.

»»————-

You were woken up by a ringtone you didn’t recognise. Sitting up in bed, a heavy feeling settled in your chest. This had been happening for the past week. Each morning was compounded by sadness. As soon as you were conscious, you’d remember what happened with Jieong. Today, disorientation overtook the sadness.

A phone was ringing.

The ringtone…was a stupid silly love song that you were obsessed with back in Daejon. You reached for your laptop, pausing a rerun of The Vampire Diaries. You must have fallen asleep watching it, and you couldn’t comprehend what episode you were on now, having missed most of it in your asleep. Grabbing the blanket around your shoulders, you trudged to your living room, and sure enough, your new phone was buzzing. There was only one person who had this number. It was still baffling how Hyunjin bought you a flip fucking phone just so you could talk to him.

hyunjin hey, i just wanted to make sure it was working so i guess this is a test message you yea. its working. hyunjin oh im sorry. did i wake you up? you yup hyunjin sorry…i hope you got enough rest. how did yongbok take it? you he was disappointed. he really wanted me to come home.

hyunjin i can imagine. did he ask why you changed your mind? you why? you want me to tell him that it was because of you? hyunjin it was? you i don’t know hyunjin. im still trying to figure it out. im kind of all over the place. hyunjin i understand

You stared at his texts, and this must have been the millionth time he had said sorry, but did he even know what he was sorry for? So much had happened in his absence, and it seemed like he had no idea what his loss had meant to you. Every conversation still felt like walking on eggshells, you didn’t know what he wanted from you now. Did he still have feelings for you? The night in the Atelier, he had said everything to get you to stay, yet nothing at the same time. All of his words were so carefully constructed for you, and you wish he’d been clear about what he wanted. Your heart was so fucking torn and confused. A part of you was still pushing Hyunjin away, and perhaps your anger was still lingering. But oh, you missed him so much.

He wanted you to see Christmas. You found yourself searching through search engines for pictures of Seoul during that festive time, and it sure looked beautiful and pretty, but it didn’t seem like a big enough deal. He must really love Christmas or something. You glanced over at your suitcases that lay at the edge of your bed, second-guessing everything when your phone began ringing, and you didn’t have the heart to ignore him. You crawled over to where it lay on the nightstand, and put the phone to your ear, listening quietly.

“Hey.” He spoke, a relief in his tone, “You picked up.”

You lied back down, pulling your covers over yourself, “I did.”

“What are you doing right now?” He asked. You stared at your ceiling, “I was watching a show…” You hadn’t been the most responsive tonight or this past few days. You were having trouble figuring out what this new relationship between you and Hyunjin meant. “You…haven’t unpacked?” He asked. You shrugged, “No. I’d prefer having it ready to go if I change my mind.”

There was a pause on the other end, “Right. Well, if you do plan on leaving, I hope you don’t do it in the middle of the night again. It’s not very practical.”

He was joking about it, but for some reason it made you smile, “Yup. I’ll be sure to wait until dawn next time.”

“Back when I was at the academy, I always had my suitcase packed up under my dorm bed, and I hid it there, just in case I needed to leave one night.”

“Why would you need to leave?” You frowned. He chuckled, harshly, “Um, training was hard. I almost quit…a lot of times.”

“Why was it hidden?” You sat up. It felt weird that you’d known him all this time but never known this. He laughed, “I was too nervous to admit I was scared. If I thought of quitting, it would make the other trainees think I was weak. I couldn’t let them see that. That’s the fastest way to be targeted.”

You heart hurt at the thought of a younger Hyunjin being scared, “You never told me that…”

“Yeah, it’s…something I don’t really like to talk about.”

“I’m sorry for making you think about it.” You bit your lip, feeling guilty for reminding you of a worse time. His tone was light to reassure you, “It’s not your fault. I guess seeing you the other night reminded me…of me.”

“Yeah. Why are you up at this time though?” You glanced at your bedside clock. He spoke, “I’m waiting for the guys to get home. They’re coming back from Bangkok tonight, and they have a late flight. I hope you’ve been getting enough sleep though.”

It was a strange feeling, knowing you and him were in the same city, unable to fall asleep. This was a first. You wish you could call him over, and maybe you could help each other fall asleep. Holding him would definitely help all your worries, and you could imagine how warm his body would be to cuddle. Would he even fit in your bed and on your cheap mattress, or would you have to be on top of each other? The thought made your heart squeeze. You were so tired of holding back all these thoughts, you wanted to be able to say them out loud. There was no point keeping these feelings to yourself, but for now, it didn’t seem appropriate for this new friendship you two were discovering. You swallowed your desires, saying, “I have to go to the Atelier this week to withdraw my application.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“What?” Yes. Yes. You wanted him with you all the time.

“I just thought that you might feel anxious, and…I can wait for you. If you ever feel uncomfortable, you can let me know and I’ll take you home.”

It was funny how he always knew the right thing to say, pushing all the right buttons that made your dopamine go batshit insane. It was funny that he was perfect for you, yet you still weren’t together.

“But you can’t even be seen in public with me.” You responded, and you hated thinking with your head and not your heart. He was quick to offer a solution, “I’ll…be in my car. It’ll be fine. Nobody will know I’m there.”

You chewed on your lip, considering your options, “You don’t have to go through all of that effort. It just sounds like an inconvenience for you to be there.”

There was silence on the other end, and Hyunjin spoke, “I don’t want you to be around Kim Jieong by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.” The idea of Hyunjin accompanying you sounded tempting, but you couldn’t take responsibility for something like that. You’d caused him enough trouble in his life as is.

»»————-

Later that week, the receptionist of the Atelier was staring at you, a disapproving look on her face, “Are you sure? Once you input this request, you can’t change your mind.”

“Yeah. I’m sure. I’m…positive” You spoke, hands flat on the front desk. She frowned, “You’re… positive that you want to withdraw your admission?”

The words sent a pang through your chest, a cruel reminder to your predicament, but you nodded, “Yeah.”

A familiar, comforting voice suddenly rang through the lobby, and you turned to see Jeonghan run up to you, a huge portfolio bag in hand. He was a sight for sore eyes. He looked so relaxed in his bucket hat and an oversized mint-green cardigan, with a smile on his face, “Y/N! Are you feeling any better?” …Right. He thought you were sick. He thought that’s the reason you hadn’t shown up to any classes. You smiled up at him. You hadn’t seen him in a while, “Yeah. Can you just give me a second? I’ll finish up here.”

“Sure. I'm just waiting for my friend anyway.” He nodded, slinging an arm around you, pulling you close. The receptionist blinked at you, unfazed by Jeonghan’s affectionate arrival, “And you’ve spoke to Mr. Jieong about this?”

“Yes, I’m sure he knows” You spoke, “Spoken to him about what?” Jeonghan asked, looking at you. You bit your lip, glancing up at him, “I… it’s not important”

He frowned, a sassy look on his face, “That’s not suspicious at all.”

“I can’t withdraw your admission unless you get your professor's signature" The receptionist said, handing you back your documents.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jeonghan laughed. You sighed, stepping away from the front desk and he tagged along, “I’m fucking tripping, right? Or did she just say you’re withdrawing your admission?”

You shrugged, staring at the documents in your hand, “I don’t know, I can’t afford it anymore. I have to talk to Jieong. Do you know where he is?”

“Probably in his office.” He said, “But are you not going to explain what’s going on?”

“I can’t get into it right now. Will you please come with me? I don’t want to be by myself.” You asked. He spoke without hesitation, “Of course I’ll come with you.”

You felt a different kind of terror and disappointment when you entered Jieong’s office. Jeonghan was right next to you, holding your hand and he didn’t even know what was happening but you were glad to have his support. Kim Jieong was hunched over his desk, looking through what seemed like portfolios, until he noticed the two of you walk in. He smiled brightly at you as if nothing had ever happened, “What brings the two of you in?”

You stared at him, figuring out what you could possibly say. Jeonghan’s hand was on the small of your back, and he squeezed you lightly as if encouraging you, and he said, “Just accompanying a friend.”

You looked at Jieong, and the way he sat like a king in his chair, and spoke, “I…needed your signature on something.”

“Nate. Do you mind if I speak to Y/N alone?” He asked, sending him a sweet smile. Jeonghan nodded, “Sure, of course.”

You could say nothing as he left you two alone. Jieong took off his glasses, staring at you, “This is ridiculous, Y/N.”

“I can’t do the classes anymore” You told him. His eyebrows shot up, “After everything you did to get in, you’re giving up like that? I know it’s hard, but don’t be so temperamental.”

“I’m not giving up. I’ll…still paint” You mumbled. He tilt his head, “For yourself? Where is that going to get you? I just think you’re making a big mistake.”

You swallowed, “So what, I come just back to classes and pretend nothing happened?”

“Well, what did happen, Y/N?” He chuckled, “I came to check in on you. As a concerned adult, I am responsible for my student, and you just ran away. And then you decided to skip classes for some reason. Now you’ve lost the chance for the scholarship, but you can still continue in the program.”

You stared at him, not even realising that of course he’d deny everything. You wondered if you should address it, but maybe now was the only time you could. “You…you said I should convince you.”

He leaned forward on his desk, “By making your greatest painting yet, of course. How…else? You are an artist at the end of the day, aren’t you?”

“Can you please just sign my document so I can leave?” You spoke, more venom in your tone than you intended. He was pretending it didn’t happen. He frowned, clicking at his pen, “You’ve already paid for the next few months classes. You’re just going to let that go to waste?”

Were you making a big mistake? You were acting too much on emotion. Yet you couldn’t imagine being in the same room as him again, and feeling comfortable. He had ruined this for you.

“You used to be my favourite artist...” You said, almost accusatory. He stood up, the sound of his chair dragging against the wood was loud, “Used to be? Does someone else have your heart now?”

Your phone started buzzing in your pocket, Hyunjin must be calling you, and Jieong stepped around his table, walking closer to you. You hated this. You hated looking at him, and feeling this fear and anxiety when you should only feel admiration. “Please. I just need your signature and I’ll be gone. I haven’t said anything to anybody and I’m probably moving back home anyway, so please just do this for me.”

He crossed his arms, talking so nonchalantly as if this were a casual conversation, “No. If I let you withdraw, that’d be wasting your talent and potential.”

“So you want me to stay in the program?”

“That’s all I’ve wanted since day one.” He laughed, “You’re one of my most talented.”

Your head was beginning to hurt, “Then why did you cancel my scholarship…and why are you being like this?”

“I’m not being like anything. I’m just asking you to consider staying in the program. I don't know why you're so insistent on running away.” He stepped closer, and a month ago, his tone would could comforted you but not anymore. You made sure you were near the door so you could leave if you needed to, and you tried to find the least offensive way to say what you felt, “What do you mean? You made me uncomfortable the other night.”

“What did I do? Am I not allowed to check up on my students anymore?” He was acting clueless, and it pissed you off.. You felt insane like you were speaking to a child who couldn’t comprehend anything, “I don’t know…you tried to grab me.”

“No offence, Y/N, but you’re not exactly my type. In case you forgot, I’m a married man.” He held up his hand, showing you his wedding band, “If anything, you’re the one who’s been coming on to me.”

“What? No, I haven’t.”

“Really?” He didn’t seem like he believed you, and you didn’t have to justify yourself anyway. You felt frustrated by the way he was addressing this situation, making you feel crazy. “I’ve …never come on to you. That’s…insane. I have a boyfriend. I would be crazy to do that, not to mention how…inappropriate that is. Do you think I’d risk my—”

“You have a boyfriend? What you told me the other night was different.” He tilt his head. You were only going in circles and not going anywhere, as you said, “I try to keep my professional and personal life separate.”

“What’s his name?” He asked, clicking the pen in his hand, the noise driving you mad. You almost ended up saying Hyunjin’s name, until you realised you obviously couldn’t fucking do that. Hyunjin couldn’t be the convenience in this case, you don’t know what Jieong could do with that information, especially if he found out who Hyunjin really was. You swallowed, “Nate. Obviously.”

Jieong’s expression shifted, “I see.”

You weren’t sure if he believed you or not, but you wouldn’t stick around to find out, “I don’t even know why I’m talking about this with you. I just need you to give me my documents, so I can leave.”

“I’ll think about it.” He spoke. Your eyes widened, “What?”

“You can come collect them later, in case I change my mind.” He said, returning to his desk and sat down nonchalantly. You stared at him in disbelief, not wanting to start an argument or make him mad. This was pointless. You left his office, feeling worse than before, informing the receptionist that you couldn’t even fucking resign right now. Everything felt harder than it should be. A hurdle for everything. Getting into this program had been impossible, and it seemed like getting out of it was just as tough.

The phone in your bag kept buzzing, and you stepped into the bathroom, picking up his call, “What?”

“Y/N…” Hyunjin seemed surprised at your tone, “I…was trying to reach you. What happened?”

Your eyes brimmed with tears of frustration, “Nothing. I’ve had a bad day. Why were you calling me so much?”

“I was going to come to the Academy. Are you still there?”

“You’re what?” Your voice shot up. His voice was calm on the other end, “I can’t let you speak to Jieong alone.”

“Where are you right now? You can’t come. They keep a record of every visitor and… you can in trouble with your company for being here. And I already talked to him so there isn’t any point.” You spoke. It was also frustrating how you wanted Hyunjin to be there for you, but you had to think of his life and his job always first, before yourself. It had always been the case though. He was quiet for a minute and then said, “You were alone with him? Where are you right now?”

“Nate was with me.” You said, staring at yourself in the mirror, and you looked like shit, in a hoodie you had worn for three days straight, “He’s…waiting for me outside.”

“I see…” Hyunjin responded, “I’m sorry. I wanted to be there for you.”

You sighed, “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Hyunjin. I’m fine. Jieong was absolutely useless though. He didn’t even let me withdraw! He was…being cryptic, and frustrating. I had to tell him Nate’s my boyfriend just to get him off my back.”

Hyunjin’s response was dry, “Oh. Okay.”

“I mean… I was lying.” You were stupidly justifying yourself, and he mumbled, “Yeah. Makes sense…I haven’t been able to focus on anything else but you since I woke up, so I just thought it’d be better if I came over there.”

“You don’t have to leave work for me, Hyunjin." You suddenly felt guilty, "I’m sorry we haven’t talked much. I just haven’t been in the best state of mind.”

“I just…want you to know that I’m here, if you ever want to talk about it. I’m sorry that you’re having a bad day.”

“Don’t worry about it, it's not your fault or anything.” You mumbled. He said, “I’ve been thinking and…I want to take you somewhere. I think it’ll take your mind off things.”

The request excited you, but coming from Hyunjin’s mouth, you couldn’t really believe it, “Somewhere in the city?”

“Yeah.”

“But is that allowed? For you to be seen with me in public?” It was the only question you had. You didn’t mean for it to sound so cold. It came out harsher than intended. Allowed as if Hyunjin was a child who needed permission to do anything he desired. He was quiet, and you feared you’d crossed the line, but then he suddenly said, “I…asked my manager for permission.”

At those words, your eyes widened. That was certainly something you hadn’t expected. “And what did you say?”

He let out a nervous chuckle, “I may have lied and told him my cousin was visiting from America and that it was my… responsibility to show them around the city. He obviously can’t stop me from hanging out with family, even if it’s in a crowded place.”

“So…I have to pretend to be your cousin?”

He laughed, “No. God, no. You don’t have to pretend to be anything. You can…be yourself. It’s just gonna be me and you.”

“Really?” You didn’t know what this was. Hyunjin was…definitely opening up to you in a way he hadn’t in months. You had no idea what to make of it. Perhaps this meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Maybe he was only being friendly to make up for his behavior.

“Yeah. Is that okay with you? If it’s just…us?”

Just you and him. You’d craved for him this whole time. He seemed nervous since you hadn’t answered, “Y/N?”

“I’m here,” You said. He must have expected that you hung up. “Oh,” He replied, his tone relieved at hearing your voice.

“So where did you want to take me?”

“You said that you haven’t been to Myeon-dong, and… that’s a crime. I was hoping to show you around.” He added, “But I… don’t know. I would understand if you were still pissed about… what I did, and if you don’t want to go.”

“I’m not pissed…” You thought about his words, “I’m just kind of confused, Hyunjin.”

“About me?”

“No, actually, let’s not discuss this over the phone…things get misinterpreted and… I’m really tired right now,” You mumbled. Hyunjin suddenly wanted to hang out with you again and this was a lot to unpack and shouldn’t be done now. He agreed, “You’re right. I'm sorry again that I couldn’t see you. I really didn’t want you to feel like you had to do that alone. Because I’m here, for you. I know I haven’t been but…yeah.”

When he said stuff like that, your stomach twisted. You’d been trying to maintain a line between you and him, a boundary based on all of the recent events, yet it felt futile. Your voice dropped, “Yeah, thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

You nodded, and a part of you already felt lighter at this proposition, “See you then, Hyunjin.”

You stepped out, making your way to the entrance and Nate spotted you. He ran up to you, pulling you into a half-hug, “How’d it go with Jieong? I can’t believe he kicked me out of his office.”

You shrugged, squinting under the sun, “I may have told him you were my boyfriend…”

He laughed, a smirk on his face, “What? Is that your way of asking me out?”

It was kind of nice that he had no idea what was going on. You could still pretend that things were normal. You felt embarrassed, pushing your hands in your pockets, “Jeonghan…no.”

“I know. I know. I’m kidding” He smiled, then took off his bucket hat, placing it on your head to protect you from the sun, “You need to get yourself a pair of sunglasses.”

“Thanks” You smiled. It was nice to be distracted from your disastrous exchange with Jieong. He looked around at all of the art students walking to classes, then back to you, “So are you coming back to class on Monday? You know it sucks without you, right?”

“Really? I take it you guys miss me a lot then.” You smiled. He rolled his eyes, “Of course I do. Honestly, you were my favorite thing about it, especially this last semester. Jieong’s got a stick up his ass for some reason. Anyway, me and Minnie miss you. Well, me more than her. I don’t have anybody to teach me your crazy ass techniques anymore. I mean, you’re the only one who can make me get my hands willingly dirty and paint with them.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “They weren’t crazy. I thought you enjoyed painting with your hands. You’re a dick.”

He grinned, tapping your hat, “Only for you.”

You then noticed the black and gold bags at his feet, “So, what’s in the bags?”

“Unfortunately, nothing for you.” He sighed. “I was shopping for a tuxedo. Actually, now that you're here, I did have a crazy favor to ask you.”

You looked up at him, in anticipation, “Yeah? What’s the favour?”

“My sister, she lives in Busan, I told you, right? Well anyway, she’s getting married next Saturday, which is crazy in itself but…long story short, you’re coming with me. There’s no way I’m surviving that alone.”

“You want me to be your plus-one?” You asked. He shrugged, “I mean, you already told Jieong you’re my girlfriend…so it doesn’t hurt to keep up appearances does it?”

“I mean, I have to think about it. Do I have to dress up fancy and all?” You asked. He nodded, “Yeah, a formal dress preferably, but if anyone can pull that off, it would be you. You being by my side would actually make it bearable. Will you think about it and let me know? If you absolutely can’t go, that’s okay, I’ll take Minnie along, but… I’d…really prefer if it was you. After all, I can’t make out with Minnie when I’m drunk.”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s almost like you’re trying to convince me not to go.”

He smiled, “Please let me know about it. I gotta go meet my friend now. I’ll hopefully see you next Saturday?”

Maybe going to a fancy wedding would take your mind off things, and you smiled as he kissed your cheek goodbye, “No promises.”

»»————-

This was the Seoul you’d seen in the movies. It’s as if you’d stepped into a full spread of a magazine that you’d fawn over in your school library as you stared at Myeon-dong street. A seemingly endless alley of shops, food, and anything a person could want for. It was the afternoon, and it seemed to be the busiest time as throngs of people filtered in and out through the streets. Your gaze fell upon families, couples, and teenagers filling the streets still in their school uniforms.

There was a newspaper stand set up next to you, selling magazines and papers of all kinds, it even had some pop merchandise, random objects with pictures of idols on them, ranging from socks to mugs to paper fans. It was bizarre. The lady at the shop smiled at you, “Looking for something in particular?”

“Um, no, I was just looking.” You shook your head. She was dressed really well, and she smiled at you, “What’s your favorite group, sweetie?”

Your eyes meandered over the merchandise, and for a moment you considered saying the name of Hyunjin’s band but quickly decided against it, “Uh, I don’t listen to…” Just then, a teenage girl and her friend came behind you, filming a vlog of some kind, and the lady asked them the same question, her attention switching in a millisecond away from you, “Looking for something?”

To your surprise, the girl enthusiastically nodded, “Yes, please! Could we get a Hwang Hyunjin and Changbin necklace?”

Your eyes widened, and you stepped away from the stall to hide your reaction. You could see the lady reach into her supplies, pulling out several decorative items, along with t-shirts and necklaces. Hyunjin was on half of them, and a strange sense of pride and wonder filled you. That must be so fucking weird for him, but you suppose it also must be satisfying to be this famous. The teenage girl immediately reached for the Hyunjin necklace, a pendant with his name carved out in silver, and it was actually pretty, and not tacky, and a part of you wanted to get one for yourself but he’d think you were crazy if you did. She immediately put it around her neck, a big smile on her face. You stepped away, a strange jealousy building in your stomach.

It was almost the time he said he’d meet you here, so you walked to the junction, hands pushed into your deep coat pockets, looking around for the familiar face.

In the midst of the crowd, he was waiting for you.

He stood tall in a suede trench coat, a turtleneck, and a bag slung around him. He wore a black mask, obscuring his face from the onlookers, but people were still looking at him. Of course they were. He didn’t need to show his face to be the most beautiful man in the room.

He was looking around too, and you waited for him to notice you. Would you stand out to him too, like he did to you? Could he pick you out of a crowd of hundreds?

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, wondering if he would call and ask where you were. But then he noticed you. Even in this distance, you saw his eyes light up in recognition, and immediately, he stepped ahead, pushing through the moving crowd to get to you. You waited where you were, as he got closer and closer. Your heart pound to a different beat now. You had no idea what today would be about or what any of this meant to him, and one of the reasons you’d agreed to meet was to find out. He finally approached you, and his eyes crinkled as you imagined the hidden smile under his mask, “You’re here…”

You nodded, looking up at him, “Have you been waiting long?”

He shook his head, voice muffled, “No, don’t worry about it.”

You wish you could see him without the mask, but too many people here could recognise him. “There’s a couple of places I wanna show you.” He said, gesturing you to move. You walked next to him, and the tight space pushed you two together, arms brushing mistakenly. You looked around, “There’s a lot of people here”

“Mmh. It’s one of the busiest times of the day.”

“Why did you pick this time then?” You glanced up at him. He looked at you, “Well…Right now, we can just blend into the crowd. If there’s less people, we’re more likely to be noticed, and draw attention.”

So he had thought of that, and he was right. You weren’t really looking at other people because there were just far too many to keep track of, so they likely wouldn’t be looking at you too. To them, you just seemed like a normal couple on a day out. Your arms brushed against each other the whole time, and his hand hovered over your back. You kept sneaking glances at him, and it was harder because you were moving so fast, and he was taller and there was only so much of him you could see. Every time there was a change in the crowd, he’d quickly switch sides, grabbing your arm to keep you close. When you looked at him, his eyes crinkled as he tried to justify, “Just making sure I don’t lose you.”

The words sent a flutter through you, and you asked him, trying to be heard over the cacophony of sounds, “Did you know shops here sell merchandise with you?”

He looked back at you, distracted. He was seemingly too focused on finding his way through the crowd, “Um, yes, I’ve seen a few. Wait… this place has the best fried chicken, you need to try it. If we come later in the evening, there will be a really long wait for it. Changbin once made me wait two hours for it.”

“Oh, wow. Was it worth it?” You asked, stopping at what looked like an inconspicuous stall. He laughed, “I don’t know about that, but I’d do anything for Changbin, so I definitely wasn’t complaining. Anyway, the last time I was here, I could’t help but wonder what you’d think of it.” He then ordered a plate for the two of you, and you watched the vendor prepare it. It already smelled amazing, and you eagerly waited, hands in your pockets, “So do you come here with the guys often?”

He shook his head, “No, we haven’t gone out in a while. We’ve been so busy with promotions….and the album, haven’t really found time to relax.”

“I’m sorry. That sounds stressful. Do you not get any vacations?”

The vendor had finished preparing the chicken and was now seasoning it, sprinkling all kinds of spices over it. Hyunjin shrugged, “I think I used up my lifetime of vacations in Daejon.”

“Right.” You recalled all of his months there, “I hope you still got paid for it.”

He shook his head, face buried in the front of his coat, “It was still worth it though. I got to meet you.”

You blinked, wondering how and why he said such soul-changing stuff so casually. Like at a fucking chicken stall on the sidewalk. How did these things come so easily to him, but love so difficulty? You shrugged, “Right. I guess that’s why you didn’t need me anymore when you came back home.”

It was a joke, obviously, but Hyunjin’s eyebrows crinkled, “Y/N…”

“Oh, look, our food is ready.” You changed the topic, suddenly feeling guilty for bringing it up, and not wanting this to be awkward. He didn’t protest at your lack of subtlety, “Yeah. Come on, we can go into this alley so we’re not in everyone’s way.”

You followed him into a nearby alleyway. It was less crowded, so Hyunjin seemed more at ease at not being recognized yet you could see he was still a bit on edge as he kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with any passerby. He leaned against a brick wall, and you stood opposite him, savoring some of the chicken. He asked you, “You like it?”

To be honest, you couldn’t even process what you were eating. It was kind of hard to focus on other things when he was here, and this could have been the best chicken in the world but your internal monologue ran on a loop of Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. It was annoying, and you wish you could focus on the environment you were in, on the other people around you, on the street food. But you nodded, your crazy urge to be a people-pleaser and said, “Yeah, this is so fucking good. Are you gonna have some?”

He shook his head, laughing, “I’m good. I’m just glad you like it.” You hummed, “Thank you for making me try it…”

You hated that the mask obscured his face. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it made you anxious. He didn’t say anything for a while as you ate, like he was building up the courage to ask, until he finally did say, “So…how are you feeling, really? And please…don’t just say you’re fine. I want to know how you’re really doing. And how you’ve been the past few months. I’ve been wondering that for a while.”

Your eyes searched his, and that certainly didn’t seem like street side conversation but it was all you had, “That’s a pretty loaded question, Hyunjin, but I guess it’s good to be out of my apartment. Thanks for bringing me out here. I was kind of getting sick of my routine.”

He nodded, “I can imagine. You hate routines.”

You laughed, surprised that he knew that about you even though at this point, he probably knew you better than any human in the world, “Yeah.”

“Did you tell Nate that you’re thinking of withdrawing? I hope he convinced you to not do that.” He asked, hope in his tone. You shook your head, “No, he was in a really good mood, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“He seems like a really good friend, and I know I didn’t really have the chance to talk to him, but he seems cool.”

“Yeah. He definitely helped. Seeing him had definitely put me at ease.” You reached for another piece of fried chicken, “When I was about to go back home, he didn’t really even cross my mind…but I realized, yeah, it would have been unfair to him if I just left without a word. I would definitely miss him. He was…such a big part of my last few months. I wouldn’t have adjusted to living in the city without him.”

Hyunjin was quiet, and then he spoke, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” You laughed, feeling embarrassed at the memory, but Hyunjin was the one who wanted to know all about your life the past few months, “I was so lost when I moved here. Everything seemed so…scary, but he made it easier for me.” Hyunjin was still staring at you so you elaborated, finding the need to explain, “He…made me meet his friends, he took me out to some really cool bars, and going to class was scary but he’s probably the reason I didn’t go back home sooner… now that I think of it.”

“Oh.” He pushed off the wall, choosing to walk along the alley, and you followed him, trying to keep up with his footsteps. Little hair salons and souvenir shops surrounded you. As you walked, you observed how your feet fit in the cobblestones just so you wouldn’t feel so nervous around him as you replayed the last few months in your head, “Yeah. Wow, I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until you asked. I mean…he had no reason to be so nice to me, especially because…this is embarrassing to talk about—”

“What?” Hyunjin asked, looking at you. It felt weird to think of all those months, but you were only talking about this because he asked. You’d been crying almost every day, because of…well, him. Everything had seemed so hopeless without him in your life, and now…you had bigger problems. Such as your dreams of a lifetime being absolutely fucked and burnt into the dust. So perhaps you had made your peace with what Hyunjin had done. Nothing could have made him change his mind, and there was…no point crying about it.

You snapped back to reality, realising he was waiting for you to answer and you wonder how honest you should be. Something about how detached he’d been the past few months made it easier for you to open up, “It’s embarrassing because I was really all over the place. I was kind of…depressed? I don’t even know, but…Nate didn’t mind. He was so nice about it.” You then laughed, suddenly remembering the blind date Minnie had set you up on, “Oh, and I had this horrible fucking date, man it was so bad. Some people can be such assholes.”

“You were…depressed?”

You looked up at him, realizing how serious that could sound, “Um, I mean…that’s a big word…I guess.”

“Why…?” He looked at you, confused, eyebrows knitted together in sadness, “You weren’t happy about the apprenticeship?”

The happiness of that could never have compared to the sadness of losing him. You’d really dug yourself into a hole. You wondered how to say this without making it all about him. How could you tell him that he was your favourite thing in the world? You swallowed, “Uh…I…I was kind of lonely, I guess.”

Hyunjin stared at you, something flashing through his eyes, and it looked like…regret, or guilt. You immediately felt bad, gut sinking. He looked away from you, and cleared his throat, blinking, “So…you had a date? With Nate?”

“No, this other guy,” You explained, “A date with Nate would have been a million times better, but no, it was with this total ass. He…just wanted to get into my pants, I guess, and on top of that he also had horrible taste in beer. Nate did rescue me from it.”

“So…then what happened between you and him? At the party, you were…” He trailed off, staring at the ground as he walked, “You guys looked close.”

“I don’t know. We were just…fucking around. It doesn’t mean anything. He kissed me, and I guess that’s how it started.”

Hyunjin glanced at you, “He kissed you?”

Why did it even matter right now? You clarified, “Technically, I kissed him…after my terrible date. And he returned it. Then, I guess we just…were casual friends who kissed.”

“Oh…Okay”

“Yeah. You missed a huge chunk of my life.” You chuckled, and you’d finished all the chicken, so he threw the plate away in a trashcan. He then asked, “So…what else did you do in the city ever since you’ve been here?”

“I…uh…not much.”

“What were your favourite moments?” He asked, “You must have had some good ones, right?”

You drifted off, trying to remember the times you’d been happy, and it was weird how you couldn’t think of many, “Well, when I got accepted. I was the happiest then. Then…when Jieong told me that I was talented, and when my paintings got complimented on in class. I was happy when I discovered a thrift store near my house, and…they had the cutest skirt in my size. It looked really cute on me.”

Hyunjin must be smiling, because you could see his eyes crinkle over the mask, “And?”

“And…I was happy when I was with Kairi. We found this cute cafe we would go to. They had these really, really good sandwiches. I was happy when…” You stopped.

“When?”

You looked up at him, pushing your hands in your pockets, “When…I saw you, in the storage closet.”

He was quiet, processing your words, and then he said, “We’re almost here. Come on.”

You thought you’d just been walking aimlessly, but it seemed like Hyunjin had a destination in mind this whole time. There was a brick building hidden between K-marts and department shops. It looked abandoned. “Can we even go in?” You asked. He laughed, “Of course.” There was an incognito entrance, hidden from the public as you stepped in through the doors, “Are you sure? It feels like we’ll get murdered in there, Hyunjin.”

He glanced at you, “That’s a funny way of saying you don’t trust me.”

You shrugged, playing along because it felt nice to pretend that things were normal again, “So, if there was a serial killer in there, you would fight him for me?”

He let out another laugh, looking at you, “I obviously would, and no there isn’t anybody in there, but maybe I should be asking if you would do that for me?”

“Nah, I think I’d sacrifice you so I could get away.” You smiled at him, and he laughed as you entered a fancy corridor. There was a huge map on the wall with different levels marked on it, and far too much detail than you’d expect. You still had no idea where you were. You tried to read it but Hyunjin walked ahead, and you caught up to him asking, “So…where are we?”

“It’s this…really cool concept store, for mainly streetwear. It’s one of a kind, all their clothes are inspired from the 90s and the coolest part is nobody really knows who the designer is. People speculate and such, but it’s anonymous and because their identity is hidden from the world, they can pretty much get away with anything, controversial designs and stuff. Ever since my stylist told me about, I knew I had to bring you here. It’s like…if Banksy made fashion, you know?”

The thoughtfulness of that didn’t miss you. He’d been thinking of you for a while, it seemed, and it looked like he was right. The first room you stepped in was already breathtaking. Cool technology surrounded the open floor plan, a suspended spaceship hung from the center, and clothes of vivid colors were displayed on racks amongst art installations and paintings. It seemed more like a museum than a fashion store. “Holy shit. You weren’t kidding.” You spoke, taking in all the futuristic displays, “How much are these clothes even worth?”

Hyunjin laughed, “Just the same as any other high-fashion store.”

“So… insanely expensive,” You mumbled, running your hand through the variety of jackets hung up. They were the coolest designs you’d seen, and the precision that must have gone into designing them was obvious. Each had something that made it unique: different fabric patches, pockets of uncanny shapes, and neon colors that you couldn’t imagine pulling off. But in Seoul, there was an outfit for everybody, and these definitely weren’t for you. Each of them felt expensive to the touch, and you probably shouldn’t be touching them like so.

“I wore something like this for a stage performance last month, and I was so stressed about ruining the sequins the entire time. Do you like any?” Hyunjin asked you, browsing through them too. You laughed, “Um yes, I love them, but I shouldn’t.”

“This one is really cool,” He spoke, eyeing a purple jacket, with lavendar fur on the neckline and sleeve loops. It looked like something aristocrats or royals would wear in Buckingham palace or something, so you laughed when Hyunjin asked, “Do you want to try it on?”

“If I get a speck of dirt on it, would I have to sell my soul?” You raised an eyebrow. Hyunjin scoffed, “You’re allowed to try them on. Come on. There’s a mirror somewhere here.” He grabbed the jacket off the shelf so casually, walking through the maze of displays until you reached a huge floor-to-ceiling mirror. He held the jacket up to you, and you couldn’t take this seriously, “That is so not me. It would look good on like Gigi Hadid or something.”

He rolled his eyes, “Just try it on.”

“Sure. I’ll humour you this once, but after this, I get to pick something ridiculous for you to wear.” You took off your winter coat. Hyunjin grabbed it for you, and you slipped on the purple jacket. Immediately, it felt like you were wearing millions of dollars, rich and thick fabric. It hugged your body perfectly. You turned to the mirror, running your hands over the fur, it was so soft. Wearing this would definitely make anybody feel confident.

Hyunjin hadn't said anything yet. Your eyes darted to his, and he was staring at your reflection. His eyebrows were raised, eyes wide, but you couldn’t see the rest of his face and that bothered you. You held your arms up, turning to the side to observe it, “It’s like a work of art.”

“Yeah. You make it look like one.” Hyunjin spoke. You glanced at him, feeling shy suddenly. He was so observant, so fixated on you.

“Well. Anyway. It’s my turn.” You walked to another section of the store. Hyunjin followed you through all the abstract installations. There must be a narrative behind it, but you were just happy appreciating the visuals. Silver water fountains, clothing displays that moved on their own... everything about this place screamed future. It was inspiring just to be in here. Hyunjin was sifting through a rack of streetwear. A sunglasses case rest next to it, and you stared at them, grabbing a design off the rack.

“You should try this,” You told him, offering him the glasses. His eyebrows shot up and he laughed, “Really? You don’t think they’re tacky? The gold borders?”

“I think they’d look good on you” You mumbled, but kept them back based on his reaction, “But fine, you don’t have to try them if you don’t want to—”

“I’ll try them, Jesus” He interrupted you with a laugh and put them on. There were mirrors everywhere and he looked at himself. You wonder if he fell in love with himself too each time he saw his reflection. He pushed his hair back, a smirk playing at his lips, “Huh. I actually kind of like that. Makes me feel like a rockstar.”

He sparkled under the store lights. You’d only wanted him to wear it as a joke, but he actually made them look so good. He looked expensive, and... so out of your league. He was absolutely beautiful, and you mumbled, “You are kind of a rockstar. You should get them.”

He glanced at you, eyebrow raised as if it was even a question. Those glasses seemed to be made for his perfect face. He pulled them off, observing the frame, “You think?”

You just nodded, not trusting what you might blurt. Probably something embarrassing along the lines of how hot he made them look, even though they were just fucking glasses, but him in them was doing something unnatural to your body.

“I can’t remember the last time I bought something for myself” He stated, pushing the glasses up over his head. You leaned against the mirror, looking up at him, “Is it because you always have to wear sponsorships and stuff?”

He nodded, “Yeah. It’s easier in a way because I don’t have to pick out much of my clothes.”

“That’s such a first-world, rich person problem, Hyunjin. I can’t believe you just said that.” You rolled your eyes. He laughed, “Hey, I’m just being honest with you, sorry.”

“You’re pretty lucky. I wish someone would buy my clothes for me” You sighed, “Unfortunately, I don’t have a stylist, and a make-up artist, and a personal shopper and a manager—”

“Stop” Hyunjin laughed, interrupting you, “I think what you pick out for yourself is pretty fantastic.”

“Yeah, I know it is.” You smiled, “So, is there any other cool stuff in this store?”

He nodded, stepping back from the mirror, and his hand fell to your lower back again as he guided you, “Yup. There’s a cafe. That’s where I was initially going to take you until you got distracted by all the jackets.”

The cafe was a beautiful rooftop establishment, looking out at the views of Seoul. You had to hold back your gasp when you walked in. There were hardly any people in, just a few men that looked like CEOs seated at far tables. Your eyes fell to the menu that hung over the counter, where every bakery item was easily more than 30,000 won. Everything was so expensive, and probably explained why this place wasn’t buzzing with people. Not everyone could afford this taste. “You should try the Pain au Chocolat. It’s one of the best in the city.” Hyunjin nudged you. You looked at him, “That statement indicates that you’ve somehow tried all the chocolate croissants in the city.”

He laughed, “Not nearly. I come here with Changbin and Jisung often though. A few weeks ago, I tried it and I just…kept imagining how much you’d like it.”

You looked back at the menu, feeling giddy at the thought of being on his mind so often, in your absence. You stepped up to the counter, ordering two coffees and croissants. You’d come all this way after all.

“Hey, I got this.” Hyunjin said, stopping you before you could pay. But if he paid for your coffee, it would increasingly make this feel more like a date, which this wasn’t. You couldn’t make yourself feel delusional by thinking it was.

“Don’t worry about it.” You dismissed him, handing your card to the cashier. He frowned, clearly not happy with the outcome, but you wouldn’t let him buy it for you. The cashier also seemed expensively dressed, with good taste, and she input your order and then said, “Unfortunately ma’am, you can’t wear the store merchandise around.”

You realised you were still wearing the lavendar fur jacket, loving the feel of it on you just like Hyunjin had loved it on you. Gosh, you wish you could never take it off just to see the look in his eyes again. Except you weren’t just playing dress-up. This was probably worth hundreds of thousands. You felt so embarrassed, and you immediately reached to unbutton it, “Shit. I’m so sorry…I can go put it back now.”

Were they going to charge you a lot for this mistake?

“Oh. It’s not merchandise, ma’am. We’re taking it home.” Hyunjin interrupted, and then looked at you, “You can keep it on.”

The cashier just smiled, “Oh, of course. My mistake then. Your order will be out in a few minutes. Have a nice day!”

You gaped at Hyunjin, “What?”

He laughed, tugging your arm to pull you away from the counter.

“Are you insane?”

“Oh, don’t hurt my feelings, Y/N” He joked, leading you to a table in the corner. He sat down, comfortably stretching his legs. You were still processing it, “This cost a fortune, you can’t just do that on a whim. I’m not okay with that.”

He sighed, gesturing at you to sit opposite him, “Come on. It’s not a big deal”

You crossed your arms, “Is this a way to get back at me because I paid for our coffees?”

He laughed, “Only you’d think someone’s getting back at you if they buy you a gift.”

You frowned, sitting down, “Well, I don’t like feeling like I owe someone something. This is far too expensive and I did nothing to earn that”

“Hey. You don’t owe me anything” He leaned forward, “I wanted to buy that for you. You can’t stop me.”

“Why?”

“Because…you look beautiful in it. It’d be a shame for anybody else in the world to wear it, and…” He looked embarrassed, “Because I saw that a few weeks ago and imagined it on you."

His compliment made your heart jump, and you wish you weren't so weak and crumbling over a boy of all things, but you didn’t want to feel ungrateful, “Oh….Thank you…Hyun.”

“So… you’re not mad at me then? You haven't called me that in a while.” He laughed. Your voice fell, touching the expensive material of the jacket, “No…I really love it. It’s beautiful.”

His smile grew, eyes crinkling, “I know. You look great in it.”

You eyed his mask, and that certainly could't be comfortable and you felt brave enough to finally say, “Are you going to wear that thing all day? I can’t even see you...but I guess I understand if you need to.”

He looked around the cafe. He must have deemed it safe, because there weren’t many people on this floor, so he reached up, slipping his mask out finally. And god, he looked so fucking perfect under it. His nose was red from the cold. His lips were just as plush as you remembered, and they curled up into a beautiful smile for you, “Is that better for you?”

“I hate that you have to hide yourself.”

His eyes widened just a tad, and perhaps he hadn’t expected you to be so candid, but you just nodded, “Don’t make a big deal out of it or something. Everybody in this country is in love with your face.”

The waitress then brought a tray of your coffees, and croissants, placing them between you. The view of Seoul from here was beautiful. Your heart soared, watching the sun fall on him, and he slipped on his brand-new sunglasses. They really did make him look like a rockstar, with the reflection of the glass buildings in them. He pushed his hair back, but it was a useless gesture because the strands fell back into place, bangs covering his forehead, and his hair had grown out much more. You looked around at the few businessmen in the cafe and asked, “So your managers really don’t mind that you’re out with a girl…on a random weekday?”

He nodded, cutting into the croissant with his knife, “Yeah of course. They don’t have to know.”

You sipped your coffee and then realized what he’d said, “Wait, what? They don’t know you’re here?”

Hyunjin glanced up at you, mid-bite into the croissant, chocolate creaming his lips, “What?”

“You told me you asked him for permission, so you wouldn’t get into trouble.” You stated. Realization sank into his features, and he nodded, “Um, yeah. I did”

Clearly, he was lying…and the fact that Hyunjin lied to his company about today put you on edge. He clearly noticed that. A sigh left his mouth, “Please don’t worry about it, Y/N…I thought everything through. I wanted you to have a good day.”

You couldn’t understand. A few months ago, Hyunjin let go of everything just so it wouldn’t risk his job, and now he was willingly doing this? What changed? Was it that he noticed your desperation to leave and thought he was at fault? Was he doing this all out of guilt, because he asked you to stay? You wouldn’t get any answers out of him right now, so you just decided to enjoy the chocolate croissant.

“I am having a good day, don’t worry.” You remembered, “By the way I saw some shops out front. They had a lot of merchandise with familiar faces on them…”

“Oh no. What did you see?” He laughed, covering his face in his hands. He was so cute. You smiled, trying not to get distracted by how adorable he looked, “It was cool but I just… couldn’t wrap my head around it. How does it feel having your face literally everywhere?”

He took a long sip of his cappuccino, “Well…it takes some getting used to, but after a point you do.”

“I don’t think I could get used to my face being plastered everywhere, and people having it in their homes and stuff? It makes me anxious just thinking about it” You shuddered at just the thought, “You’re very brave.”

“Well, yeah you’d have your artwork in people’s homes instead.” He shrugged. You looked up at him, surprised, “That’s so far in the future, I can’t comprehend that”

“Maybe I could be your first buyer” He leaned back in his chair, “Would youu sell me one of your paintings for…a half a million won?”

“If you spend that much money on my shitty paintings, people would definitely think you’re sleeping with the artist.” You mumbled. He lift the mug to his mouth, eyes on yours over the rim, as he drank, “I suppose.”

If you could record your heartbeat in the moment, it’d cross inhumane levels surely. You stared at him, fighting the urge to smile, “Unfortunately, you’re fresh out of luck. All my paintings are in the trash as of last week…including the one I was actually proud of…the one I was working on for the prize.”

He grimaced, “Can I ask you what that painting was about?”

“Um. It was just based off this scientific theory… it’s silly.” You felt shy explaining the concept — it was completely inspired by the things Hyunjin had told you in the comfort of the night skies of Daejon. He frowned, putting away his food, “Tell me”

“I remember you telling me that there weren’t any stars in the city, and I was wondering…what would happen if there weren’t any for real. At all. In the world.”

He seemed intrigued, “And what did you find?”

“Just a bunch of theories, but… it’d make the universe a pretty bleak place. Most life would cease to exist…and I was trying to paint the ruins of the universe, or what would be left when everything was gone. I was trying out this new watercolour technique, for it to be abstract enough that it was up for interpretation but also concrete enough that…people felt despair when they looked at it.”

“That’s…depressing.” He blinked. You laughed, “I guess. You inspired me, I suppose.”

“Well, it seems like that painting would have been really beautiful. I’m sorry you lost it, but…I don’t understand why you threw the others away. I thought…you liked keeping all your old paintings, and holding onto those memories…”

For some reason you found yourself being so truthful with him, digging deep into your psyche to how you felt, “Man, I don’t know…everything in my life kind of feels stupid and meaningless right now. I wasted years of my life trying to get into that apprenticeship, only to basically be kicked out one semester in… it’s funny. And now I’m sitting in my apartment in my dream city with nothing to do. I guess holding onto things just feels stupid now. There’s no point. I don’t even feel like painting anymore.”

“You… shouldn’t feel that way, Y/N.” He suddenly sounded so sad, looking at you. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be sad anymore, you’d already lost everything. You shrugged, “It’s fine honestly… I’m sure I’ll eventually find some new dream to die over. I’m obsessive like that. I know there’s something out there…that’s meant for me. Probably.” The conversation seemed to have changed the mind though so you apologised, “Sorry for killing the mood.”

“You didn’t.” He responded instantly, and there was a deep emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place. You’d seen glimpses of it before, in moments when he’d kissed you, when you’d talk to him back in Daejon, but you’d never seen it like this. It was ever-present now, and prominent, like he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. Your eyes traveled over his face, and he was gazing at you in a way that made you want to curl up into yourself. It was too much.

You bit into the croissant, aware of the messy chocolate on your lips, and glanced in the window hoping to catch a bit of your reflection. You wanted to make sure you looked fine, especially sitting across someone who looked perfect, croissant crumbs on his lips. No wonder his face was in every shop here. You were seriously sitting across Hyunjin on a rooftop cafe in Seoul, for real. It felt like a dream. This wasn’t a date. Yet everything about it felt like one. It was hard to wrap your head around this reality. Hyunjin was draped in sunset light and casually sipped his coffee, looking at you like that — like he was simultaneously trying to figure you out, and like you also held all the answers to the universe.The sky was a beautiful hue of pink and orange, casting a bright glow over the entire top floor. He looked out the window, and you observed him, and then he swiftly reached into his little book bag, taking out a camera. He must want to capture the beauty of the sunset, but instead he surprised you, “Can I please take a picture of you?”

You stiffened up, “Right now..?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, pushing his sunglasses up so he could look through the camera viewfinder. You glanced at your reflection again, and you looked fine but your lipgloss was smudged. You felt conscious, “Do you mind if I fix my lip—”

“No” He immediately interrupted, sitting up, “I mean… Don’t fix it, please. I like it the way it is.”

You frowned, “But it’s all messy…”

“I know.”

His gaze pierced yours, sending shivers down your spine. And hell, you were supposed to be mad at him for a million things but you don’t think anybody had ever made you feel this beautiful before and he hadn’t even said anything. It was just the way he looked at you, the depth of his gaze, the intensity in his expression and his eagerness to capture you like this.

“Oh…okay” You nodded, and his lips spread into a satisfied smile. He lift the camera up, snapping a few and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You wish you were capturing the way Hyunjin looked at you instead. You could be a hundred years old and never get tired of that expression. His smile had given way to concentration, and he continued taking pictures of you. You wonder if you would ever get used to how he made you feel.

You think all of this had to mean something. You weren’t stupid. He’d been flirting with you the entire day, and you hadn’t stopped him, or questioned it. After all, his way of talking didn’t feel like anything new. It was just how he used to be with you. Every compliment spoken so… easily and tenderly. After being away from his adoration for months, it felt like being plunged into an ice-cold bath. He had no qualms about being too direct or straightforward. He wasn’t sugarcoating anything. Had he finally given up on the charade of not wanting you in his life? Because right now, you were very much in his life. He put the camera down as if he’d heard your private thoughts, “Thank you for today. I was worried before that I had somehow ruined everything…” He paused, as if he was struggling with his thoughts, “With you. I know I dug myself into that hole…but…it feels good to be here with you. Feels like nothing changed since summer.”

Your heart constricted at those words, making you feel uneasy, but you smiled, because he seemed so happy in the moment. Except you didn’t want it to be like summer anymore though. Summer was beautiful, but it wasn’t enough. You desired and wanted more. You needed more of him with you, on you, in you, and now…after everything that had happened, after today, you somehow felt brave enough to not shy away from it.

»»————-

Your little evening with Hyunjin had already ruined you. You’d been home for just a few hours, and you’d already started reliving the events in your mind. You hadn’t even taken off the jacket he bought you, even though it would get crumpled the longer you wore it. You tried to distract yourself by cooking dinner so the scent of food could fill your apartment instead, but it still couldn’t rival the lingering fragrance of his cologne that clung to the jacket draped over your chair.

Only an hour had passed and you gave up trying to distract yourself and sat on your bed, staring at the ceiling. You knew you shouldn’t be thinking about him, and you should probably try to protect your heart. You knew you should probably take off this jacket that cost hundreds. You’d worked so hard to try to move on but now that he was fighting to be in your life, it was like all your efforts had been for nothing. You ended up pulling up his videos, watching all of his performances from years and years ago, seeing the way he grew over time into the performer he was. All of the comments were in love with him. Millions, just like you, watching him in their bedrooms. You knew for sure, that you couldn’t let things go back to what they were: just fleeting moments of passion, and waiting on the edge of your seat for the next kiss. You knew now, that you needed something real from him. You’d changed and pretending that your feelings hadn’t deepened in his absence would only be a useless task.

»»————-

There was a voicemail in your inbox from Kairi. It had been a few days since you’d gone out with Hyunjin, and he’d unwittingly inspired you to step the fuck out of your apartment. You’d been walking through the market, browsing the collections of knick-knacks and shops, trying to find something Felix and Minho would really like. You wanted to mail stuff home that reminded you of them. You pressed your phone to your ear, trying to hear Kairi’s voicemail over the noise of the streets. She started out saying, “Hey, Y/N. I tried calling you, but I think you were busy so I just thought I’d leave you a message, and you can get back to me whenever. I know a lot is going on with you, and I haven’t exactly been the best friend I could have. I’m sorry, I guess I was still trying to readjust to having Chris back in my life.”

The electronics store you stepped into was huge, spanning almost five different floors, featuring tech that you hadn’t even heard of. The aisles were full of inventions and gadgets that Daejon could only even dream of. Kairi’s voicemail continued, “So what I was getting at is that there’s a…dinner party at my apartment. It’s…sort of an annual thing, I do it every year. My parents used to host them, but I've been doing them ever since they moved out. It’s fancy for no reason at all, but I love doing it because it’s a tradition? It’s not a lot of people, usually just me, the boys, and some of Chan’s friends. I’m going to make a six-course meal, and that sounds crazy. I guess it is, but I like doing it. Anyway, I guess this is just a long-winded way of me saying that…I would really like if you were there.”

You stopped in the middle of the aisle, listening to her continue, “I know that probably sounds like a lot for you, and… I’ve had these parties each year and I never really invite anybody, because it’s just…a really small gathering. The boys have been overworked too, so this would be perfect for them. I completely understand if you don’t want to come, but please consider it. I really want you there, and…you can bring Nate. I know that might put you at ease. Just think about it and let me know.”

Despite how warm her invitation made you feel, it was this Saturday. The same night you were going out with Nate. You had already long promised him you’d be his plus-one to the wedding reception. He was your friend and you couldn’t bail on him, no matter how much you craved to see Hyunjin and Kairi, and the others. Meeting him would just have to wait.

»»————-

Jeonghan’s arm fit perfectly on your waist, and he was all smiles as he introduced you to the rest of his family. Surprisingly, you weren’t nervous about tonight at all. His presence brought you ease. You’d bought a new dress, the color of cherries, a bow decorating the back, hoping it would match the vibe of everybody else at the reception. It made you feel confident enough to tackle tonight. It was a cold night, and the dress fell to your thighs, but nobody else seemed to care about the weather as they danced in strappy tops, and short skirts. Jeonghan, on the other hand, made you feel confident too. He’d proudly introduced you to everyone, and for a while there, it almost felt like you were going out together. He leaned into your ear, breath warm on your neck, “So, how are we feeling?”

You spoke through a smile, watching the guests on the dance floor, “Well. I’ve certainly never been to a wedding reception this fancy…people here really spend money on everything.”

He shook his head, “Nope. They just like to show that they can.” You glanced at him, “You know you are talking about your own family, right?” You had known Jeonghan was well-off, but truthfully, you never knew he was this wealthy. The wedding reception had been grand, and ice sculptures decorated each table setting. It was all a bit much, you could appreciate the grandeur though. He rolled his eyes, “Mum and dad have been planning this day their whole lives. I’m surprised they didn’t fly us all out to an island in the Bahamas.”

“Well, I would’ve loved to be your plus-one for that.” You laughed. He shrugged, “Who knows? Maybe for my wedding."

It was a beautiful location anyway, even if it wasn’t the Bahamas. An outdoor garden setting, hundreds of twinkling lights lit up the trees, and a dance floor where all the guests were letting loose, clearly very tipsy. You looked up at the canopy of trees, which were decorated with lush wildflowers, “Those alone must have cost you millions of won.”

“Much like your company tonight” He mumbled. You laughed, looking at him, “Whatever do you mean?”

He turned to face you, both hands grabbing you by the waist, “You know I really thought you’d ditch me tonight. Don’t you have your friend’s dinner party tonight?”

“Well…you asked me first. I made you a promise. I happen to be a good friend.”

Jeonghan smiled prettily, and he looked handsome today in the tuxedo, his hair swept back. He pulled you closer, hands on your bare back, “Thank you. Tonight would have sucked without you.”

“It’s your sister’s wedding. That’s not very nice to say” You frowned, teasing him. He chuckled, “Precisely. It’s her wedding, and I had no say on the guest list. You’re the only one I picked to be here tonight.”

You smiled, uncaring of the fact that you were in a very public space with almost all his relatives watching your intimate exchange, “I’m honored to be there for you.”

His eyes drifted over you, cheeks darkening, “You really do look pretty tonight. The other guy is definitely missing out.”

You rolled your eyes, the mention of Hyunjin stinging you a little bit, but all the wine you’d consumed tonight made it more bearable.

“Nate, honey, can you come here a second?” An older woman interrupted, stepping over to you. One of the guests, who he’d introduced to you as his aunt, smiled at the two of you, “I’m sorry to interrupt. I need your help with something, sweetie.”

Unwillingly, Jeonghan let go of you, fingers brushing the bow on your back as he did. “I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.” He spoke. You laughed, “Don’t worry. Take your time.”

He leaned in, pressing a cheek to your kiss before following his aunt through the crowd. You smiled as he left whilst complaining about whatever task she put him up to. Being here with Jeonghan felt intimate, but it was never uncomfortable. You felt relaxed around him and his family, and he never pushed your boundaries. The reception had also been beautiful, and even though you didn’t know the wedding couple, the hopeless romantic in you craved for the kind of love they held. They’d been high school sweethearts, and the idea of that itself felt crazy to you. How must it feel to be so sure of your choice, and to have been in love for so long? You held your purse tightly, watching the couples on the dance floor. It was sweet. It was only ten minutes until Jeonghan was running back to you, “I’m sorry that took me so long. She wanted me to take pictures of her. Again!”

You laughed, “She must think you’re a real good photographer.” He rolled his eyes, “She just wants a new Facebook profile picture. I think I need more tequila.”

“That doesn’t sound like a smart idea.” You mumbled. He tugged at your hand, pulling you to the open bar, “Just one more wouldn’t hurt.”

You gave in since this was his party after all and you were only a guest, letting him lead you as he ordered you both a round of shots. He leaned against the bar, rolling his sleeves up and admittedly that made him look hot. You glanced at your phone, noticing a few messages from Kairi. You don’t know why you expected a text from Hyunjin, but in your hurry, you’d stupidly left your other phone at home. The one he bought you, where he’d text and call you. After all, keeping track of two phones was hard.

After a quick round of shots, you settled on the bar stools, watching all his drunk relatives, laughing about the stories he told you about them. The hours passed, and you were both tipsy, sitting so close at the bar. You could have easily kissed him. But you couldn’t stop thinking about Hyunjin. It’s like Jeonghan knew that too. He was holding your face, thumb brushing against your mouth as he mumbled in a drunk-haze, “You know what I think?"

"Hmm?"

"I think you should really get to that dinner, Y/N. I’ll be fine here.”

“I can’t leave you alone. I promised you.” You spoke. He laughed, “And I’m glad you came, but…wouldn’t your friend feel bad if you don’t show up?”

“She knows I have…prior obligations. They wouldn’t miss me.” You frowned, and suddenly the anxiety was back in your stomach. You were a little tired, and the thought of showing up at the dinner, where Hyunjin would definitely be, paralyzed you. Yet you also told Kairi you’d try your best to make it, even if only for a little while to grab dessert and you had to be a good friend to her too. Jeonghan nodded, “Just show up for her. I’m sure she would want you there. Plus, you look…really hot tonight. It’d be a waste to only wear that dress in front of my traditional old relatives. I’ll call you a taxi, okay?”

He was right. The formalities of the reception was over and now it was probably just going to be a never-ending party until dawn. It would be nice to see Kairi and the others tonight, even if you weren’t mentally prepared for it at all. You hadn’t thought you’d get a chance to get there at all. You cracked a smile at his consideration, looking up at him, “I guess I should get going now, if I want to make it in time for dessert. Only because you’re forcing me.”

Jeonghan nodded, helping you jump off the bar stool, and you looked back at the reception party. Everybody was having so much fun, you wish you could stay the entire night. You let Jeonghan lead you to the street, where the taxi waited for you. He thanked you for showing up and kissed you a short goodbye. When you sat in the taxi, you sent Kairi a simple text that you were on your way, and you hope that you were still welcome there.

»»————-

Of course things weren't going to go your way. The cab driver dropped you off on the wrong street, and after a long struggle in your kitten-heels you finally made it to Kairi’s doorstep. The cold had definitely sobered you up a bit, bringing back your nervousness about being here, but Kairi had clearly felt comfortable enough to have you over so you’d suck it up. Her place was inside a lavish apartment complex, and you rang the doorbell, waiting impatiently. Your stomach was already twisting at the prospect of meeting everyone, and at seeing him again. It was Chan who answered the door, and for a second it felt like you had no idea what to say, until he grinned, “You’re here!” He stepped forward and pulled you into a half-hug, on his doorstep. You were taken aback, definitely not expecting the physical contact. After all this was only your second time meeting him, but you bought your arm up, hugging him back briefly. His hair was curly, and he smelled nice. It was all you registered before he stepped back, inviting you in.

“I’m sorry I’m so late. I was at a wedding…” You began to explain, and he shook his head, curls bouncing, “Don’t apologise! Kairi told me you had plans already so no hard feelings. We’re just glad you could make it in time…let me take your coat.”

He grabbed it from you, hooking it on a coat hanger as you looked around. It was a decently sized place, far bigger than your apartment. A set of stairs led to another floor. Dinner must have been really good, because you could still smell the aromas. Chan said, “And…I’ve been wanting to say this for a while, but sorry for my behaviour the last time we met, at Kairi’s birthday. I was really drunk and emotional, I’m not usually like that.”

“No, you were just really fucking desperate.” Kairi’s voice interrupted, and she ran over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. Relief surged through you at seeing her here. She looked beautiful, in a midnight blue corset, and high-waisted black pants to match and you smiled at her, “You look so good. Thank you for having me over. ”

“Me?” She laughed, raising an eyebrow, “Look at you. You’re all dolled up, like a fairy.”

“I’m really sorry I missed dinner. It smells amazing.” You frowned. She sighed dramatically, “I missed you to death, but I’ll live. This just means we need to do another one of these soon. Come on, everybody’s in there!”

Before you could mentally prepare, she’d pulled you into another room, Chan following behind. You tried to register everything. It was a cosy living room, ambient purple and orange lighting cast over everything. A popular pop song was playing at a low volume in the background. There was a lot of seating, a couch, and a bunch of unique, colourful chairs surrounded the coffee table. There seemed to be a lot of people in the room, and maybe that last round of shots had been a bad idea as you tried to register all of their faces. They were all busy in conversation, wine glasses in hand, not having noticed you yet, and you hoped it stayed like so. That way, you could just slip into conversation with no embarrassing announcement of your arrival. This was the first time you’d be meeting the band. There were two other people here that you didn’t recognise. They were both dressed casually, in cargo pants and a white beanie, and you felt a bit overdressed. “They’re some of Chan’s friends, and they work with the band. That’s Hanbin and that’s Sunmi.” Kairi leaned in to whisper. Somebody in the corner was playing the piano, a beautiful low melody, and Kairi tapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Hey. She’s here.”

Immediately, he stopped playing. Jisung — the one on the piano — burst into a smile and stood up, “Shit. You’re actually like, here!” He pulled you into a hug, just like Chan had, and they must all be touchy or very drunk. As he stepped back, he continued smiling, extending a hand, “Han Jisung, by the way.”

“We’ve met before…kind of.” You said, meeting his hand with yours. Realisation sank into his face, and all his expressions were exaggerated as he nodded, “Right, right, we have. In the company building when I dropped all your coins at the vending machine…I was an idiot.”

“When are you not?” Somebody joined you, slinging a strong arm around Jisung. You recognized him from the pictures, “Hey, Y/N…You must know who I am, right?” Changbin had a coy smile on his face, dressed in a navy button-up that only he could probably make look this good. You smiled at him, “Yeah, I do. It’s nice to meet you in person.”

He smiled, gesturing to someone, “I don’t think you’ve met Hanbin.” At those words, the boy you didn’t know stood from the couch, and you regretted pulling them out of their comfortable conversation circle, “Oh, you don’t need to get up for me.”

In the midst of the chaos and onslaught of introductions, your eyes finally found Hyunjin. He was standing by the couch, a drink in his hand, at the far end of the room, laughing about something with a girl — who was probably Sunmi. Your stomach jumped, goosebumps rippling up your entire body. He looked absolutely fucking insane. In a good way, in the best way. His hair was tied up into a low ponytail, but strands of hair fell into his face, framing it perfectly. The purple light cast rhythmic shadows on his face. He stood in a black sweater, and tight denim-wash jeans, one hand tucked into his pocket. He was only standing in a living room, but he could just as easily have been posing for a Vogue photoshoot, by his perfect stance. He hadn’t realized you were here yet, or maybe he was pretending to not notice. You didn’t have time to think about it before Hanbin stepped ahead, blocking him from your view, “Kairi would not stop talking about you the past three hours.”

You flushed, “Oh… I wish I could have been here for the entire dinner. Knowing her, it must have been great.”

“We did save you some.” Chan added. You murmured a thank you, feeling dizzy from all the attention. They were almost all talking over each other, and you were already so overwhelmed. Jisung gestured to you, “Grab a drink and sit with me.”

“No, let her eat first. Baby, you mind heating up the leftovers for Y/N?” Kairi asked Chan. You shook your head, “Please, there’s no need for that. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

Kairi rolled her eyes, “Girl, you’re my guest of honor.” Chan smiled at you, “You can follow me.”

So, you went with him into the hallway, passing by a doorway. A door was left ajar, a glimpse into a room. It was only half a second, but you saw a wooden bed frame and a sliver of a wall of art, “Is that Kairi’s room?”

Chan shook his head, “It used to be, but she made it into a guest bedroom. Hyunjin mostly sleeps in there now. Come on. The kitchen’s through here.” He said, his strong voice guiding you through the corridor. “Right, sorry,” you said, turning away from the door and following him to the kitchen. The kitchen was big too, and set up beautifully, with marble countertops and a small kitchen island. Chan reached into the sink, rummaging through some dirty dishes, “Sorry. We’ve been meaning to run the dishwasher. Kairi kind of goes crazy at these dinners.”

You leaned against the counter, “That’s fine. No judgement.”

“Thank you.” He laughed, looking over his shoulder at you, “We’re usually much more organized than this, I promise.”

“You have a lot on your plate already, Chan. I completely understand.” You told him, with a smile. He laughed, “You’re sweet. I’m just heating up some of the chicken and fondant potatoes for you. That good?”

“Could I actually have some water? If… that’s okay” You asked. He smiled, “Of course it is. Make yourself at home. There are some clean mugs in the cabinet. You can just grab one and help yourself.” You walked around the island, opening up the cabinet. Mugs of different shapes and sizes were arranged precisely in there, and Kairi’s unique taste was definitely recognisable. A cerulean blue mug made of porcelain rested in the very back. You rather get a mug they sparsely used, so you reached for it, pulling it out. Pushing it under the tap, you began filling it with water. Chan glanced at you and your selection, “Oh. That’s Hyunjin’s favorite.”

You stilled, “Oh. Sorry. Should I pick another?”

Of course it fucking was. Why did you have to pick that one amongst all of them? “No, no, go ahead. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Chan smiled, pushing a button to start the dishwasher and then crossed his arms towards you, “I’ll just go see if the guys need any more drinks.”

“Sure.” You responded, taking a slow sip from the mug, and the knowledge that it was his favourite mug made you feel jittery. Doing all those shots before coming to see Hyunjin had been a terrible idea. You grabbed your water and held it tight, returning to the living room, where you could hear loud laughter from. They were all back in conversation, and Changbin was imitating a silly dance, making Hyunjin laugh. You stood under the archway, watching them. A few seconds went by, and Hyunjin was still laughing, crinkled eyes, and he reached up to tuck his hair back absentmindedly, and that’s when he saw you.

You don’t know what you were expecting. He stilled, eyes widening, trailing off in the middle of his conversation. He really hadn’t known you had arrived. His lips formed a small smile, and that was so fucking attractive, and from across the room, he mouthed, “Hey.”

The tension within you dissipated. You had to fight your smile, feeling lovestruck and lovesick by a smile word. All he said was hi. Then why did your knees already feel weak? Why did it feel like the first time you had seen him, unable to comprehend anything except his absolutely, insane beauty? You shot him a soft smile, mouthing back, “Hey.”

He sidestepped his friends, walking over to you, and you felt shy under his intense gaze. His stance was casual and so confident, and in another universe you could imagine meeting him at a college party like this. “You came.” He spoke, and you tilt your head up to look him in the eyes, “Yeah. I did.”

His eyes fell to the mug in your hands, and you realised there was a lipstick stain on it. Your lipstick stain. On his stuff. You apologised, “Um, sorry, Chan said I can—”

“Don’t worry” He interrupted too quick, eyes flickering over your form, “How are you?”

You’d already decided this was your time to be brave, and you weren’t going to hold back tonight, “I’m okay. I’ve been wanting to reach out to you and I—”

“So, what took you so long tonight?” Hanbin asked, stepping up to the two of you. You glanced at him, wishing he hadn’t interrupted you but he was being polite so you spoke, “Oh, I was at a wedding reception. I promised my friend I’d be his date.”

“Ahh. That’s why you’re dressed up so pretty. Was it a good reception?” He asked. You smiled at his compliment, “Yeah. I…had a great time actually. It was definitely a fancy event.”

“Can I see the pictures? Please tell me you took some!” Kairi asked, overhearing the conversation. She was perched on Chan’s lap, and you shot Hyunjin an apologetic smile, you’d just have to speak to him later and you handed your phone over to her, “Yeah, actually I did. Jeonghan is kind of obsessed with taking pictures, so we took a lot.”

She scrolled through your gallery, and Jisung leaned in over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the pictures too, “Wow. That shit looks…expensive.Your friend’s loaded.”

You laughed, “I guess his family is pretty rich.”

“He took a lot of pictures of just you.” Kairi teased, scrolling through, “I mean, I don’t blame him. You look like you stepped out of a fairytale.”

“Um. You should have seen the bride.” You laughed. Jisung was still nosily peeking into your phone, “So, who’s Jeonghan?”

“He’s a…friend.” You explained, while Chan handed you a drink. It seemed like one of his famous cocktails Hyunjin had told you about, but nothing could beat the drink he had made you on his last night in Daejon. Despite how much you wanted to try this, you really didn’t want to be drunk tonight, “Um…I shouldn’t. I already drank more than I should have tonight.”

“I mean, objectively, the best thing about weddings is the open bars,” Changbin pointed out. You laughed, “You’re right and Jeonghan used that same excuse to force me through five rounds of tequila.”

Jisung’s eyes widened, “You’re fucking kidding me. You must have a high tolerance if you’re so sober after five shots.”

“I think the walk in the cold definitely contributed to that” You joked, and then explained due to his perplexed look, “I must have put in the wrong location because the cab driver dropped me off a few blocks away.”

“In those shoes? I would have given up.” Changbin asked.

“So you took a cab alone?” Hyunjin suddenly asked. Your gaze darted to him, surprised he’d spoken up and you hadn’t realised how much you’d insanely missed his delicate voice. You nodded, “Um, yeah.”

“Your… friend sent you here in a cab when you were drunk and by yourself?”

“I mean…yeah. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Nate couldn’t have dropped you here?” He asked. You frowned, “It’s not like I was gonna ask him to bring me here, it was his family’s party.” His eyebrows shot up, “Isn’t he rich? I’m sure he could have figured out a way.”

“These pictures are beautiful,” Kairi spoke, cutting the tension in the room as she handed you your phone back. You were staring at Hyunjin, and at his misplaced concern. Changbin had also clearly picked up on it, because he nudged him in the stomach, “If you were so worried about her, you should have offered to pick her up.”

Hyunjin took a sip of his drink, nonchalant face, “I did.”

Your eyes widened. When did he offer that? You showed your honest surprise, “I… didn’t know.”

The room was quiet, and Jisung chuckled, “Must be the first girl in history to ignore your texts, Jinnie”.

The others laughed, but Hyunjin genuinely looked hurt that you hadn’t taken him up on his offer. In all truth, you never saw that text. If you did, you would have said yes. You’d forgotten the phone he gave you at your bedside table, and you couldn’t be blamed for not being able to keep track of it when so much was going on. You shook your head, “No, I just…had a lot on my mind, I was with Jeonghan the whole day, I must have missed it.”

Your response satisfied the room, but seemed to be the wrong answer for Hyunjin by the slight hurt in his eyes that only you noticed. It sucked because the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel like that tonight.

“So how do you know Kairi?” Hanbin asked, smiling attentively at you. You couldn’t focus, hoping Hyunjin wasn’t genuinely hurt and spoke, “Oh…it was just a coincidence. I met her in a bar.” Kairi nodded along, “And she offered to give me her jacket! Some fucking loser had thrown his drink on me.”

Hanbin laughed, adjusting his beanie, “I see. I see...So I take it you’re not a fan then?”

“Sorry?”

“You ain’t heard these guys’ music before?” He gestured towards the boys. You nodded, realising he was asking if you liked the band “Oh, some of it, yeah.”

“Oh, you’re hurting my feelings, Y/N.” Changbin pouted. Sunmi rolled her eyes, “No, it’s a breath of fresh air to see you not fawning over them. I like you already.”

Oh, if only she knew how much you did obsess over one of them. She would be concerned for you, if she could read your mind around him. You forced a smile, “I just honestly… hadn’t heard of it until a few months ago.”

Her eyes widened, “You’re kidding. How do you live in Seoul and not hear of them?” Then Chan leaned forward, adding to explain to you, “Sunmi’s one of our producers, by the way. She’s been with us since our second album. One of the best.”

“And Y/N isn’t a local.” Kairi added, “She moved here a while ago.”

“Yeah the music scene back home is….not the biggest.” You said briefly, not wanting to talk about yourself too much. You had been hoping to blend in, not be the centre of attention tonight and Sunmi asked, “And where is… back home?”

“Okay! A pause on the questions. I need Y/N for something.” Kairi interrupted, coming over to you and leaned in to whisper, “Wanna come with me to the kitchen? I’m getting another drink.”

You nodded, relieved she could pick up on your body language. As soon as you were out of earshot of the living room, she mumbled, “I’m sorry. They ask you a lot of questions. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being interrogated.”

“No, I don’t mind, I’m just kind of tired and feel like I may not be at my best social energy right now.” You apologised, leaning against the counter, as she made a cocktail for herself. Her eyes wandered over you, “You really do look beautiful. I love the glitter eyeshadow.”

“You like my bow?” You smiled, twirling to show her. She laughed, “It’s the cherry on top. So, how was it tonight with Nate? As far as I remember…. he has the biggest crush on you, or he’s just a very sincere… fuckboy.”

“Regardless…I had a really good time with him.” You said, running your finger along the marble slab. You could hear Jisung and Changbin’s loud laughter from the other room. They seemed like a lot of fun, and you definitely wanted to relax for the rest of the night. You wanted them to like you too, so perhaps you could do with a little liquid courage. As if she read your mind, Kairi finished mixing her drink then tilt her head, “You suuure you don’t want one?”

But every other time you’d gotten tipsy around Hyunjin, you’d ended up doing something stupid. “No, I…think I’ll stick with water.” You decided. She let out a sigh, taking a sip of her vodka, “Did you two kiss tonight?”

“Me and Jeonghan…?” You were surprised at the question. She hummed, “Yeah, sorry if that was weird to ask. I just know…things between you and Hyunjin…aren’t the best.”

“Did you hear us? The other night in the car?” You ended up asking, even though it was embarrassing for you to bring up that argument. She looked up at you, “Bits and pieces.”

“And what’d you think?” You bit your lip. She sighed, “I think you both…have a lot of pent-up feelings. It’s good you got them out.”

“It felt…immature to fight him. I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I’m usually not…that vocal”

“There was nothing wrong with what you said. I mean, trust me, I’ve had a hell of a lot more aggressive fights with Chris. We end up saying a lot of stuff we don’t mean.”

“Well, that’s the thing. I meant everything. I don’t really regret any of it.”

“Then he needed to hear that.” Kairi agreed, “I didn’t know he cut you off like that completely. I would have been devastated if I was you. I’d say you handled it pretty well… Hyunjin doesn’t really talk to me about you, and I wish I could be more helpful. How do you feel now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know if I mentioned it to you, but he took me shopping last week… I don’t know how I feel about it. It felt a lot like a date, but it wasn’t. I just…wish I had some surety from him, you know?”

Her hand landed on yours comfortingly, “Well, you don’t have to decide right now. I’m just glad you chose to come tonight.”

“Are you girls gonna spend the entire night gossiping without us?” Jisung interrupted. You turned and saw him in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. You hope he didn’t overhear anything. Kairi laughed, “What do you need?”

Jisung grinned widely, “Well, actually. I was gonna go get ice from the fridge upstairs, if any of you want to accompany me for that? Make you feel helpful.”

“I could come with.” You offered, smiling at him. He did a small fist pump, “Exactly the outcome I was hoping for. No offence, Kair”

As you followed him up the stairs to the storage room, he reminded you, “Be careful, your heels. I’ve fallen face-first on these steps more times than I’d admit.”

Your heart warmed at his concern, and you grabbed the bannister to keep your balance.“Cool place though, right?” He asked, looking back at you as you observed the framed pictures on the wall and he continued, “Me and the boys used to spend a lot of our weekends here.”

“Oh? That must have been nice….” You walked into a storage room, of sorts. A mini-fridge stood in the corner and Jisung pulled it open, grabbing the ice box as he looked back at you, “Yeah. Kairi got so sick of having us over, she ended up turning her study into another guest room.”

“Of course she did.” You laughed, “Do you still come here often?”

He shook his head, reaching for more ice, “After Chan and Kairi broke up, we obviously stopped for a while, but… I’m hoping to get back to normal. Couldn’t be more thrilled that they’re back together.”

“Me too. They seem pretty…perfect for each other.” You smiled. He stood up straight, his ribbed top riding up, and you looked away. All of them were so attractive it was hard to comprehend such a pretty friend group existed. He grinned at you, “I should thank you for that.”

“Me? I… didn’t do anything”

“Do you mind holding this?” He handed you the ice box momentarily, “Well, Hyunjin told me that you helped them meet up at her birthday.”

“Oh. Right.” You nodded, gripping it within your hands and it was freezing, condensation making it slip in your palms, “I…guess I did.” You had the urge to ask him what else he talked about with him, but this was your first time meeting Jisung, and that would be weird to ask. “Sure sounded like a fun party. Hyunjin told me you organise those a lot.” Jisung continued, taking back the ice box from you, “And tell me about it downstairs. I would love to talk to you in this storage room all night, but… let’s get this ice to them before all of it melts, and before Changbin threatens to kill me again.”

Back in the living room, the music seemed louder when you returned, and Hyunjin was engaged in an intense conversation with Sunmi and Changbin. Kairi was showing Chan something on her phone. You settled on a seat, and Jisung naturally pulled up a chair to be closer to you. He clinked his drink with yours, before he took a big mouthful, cheeks full of the liquid before swallowing. “So…what was I saying?” Jisung asked, dropping his voice so only you could hear him. You took a sip of your water, already feeling more at ease around him, “About how I’m a really great party planner.”

He smiled, “Right. That. Have you ever thought of doing that professionally?”

You laughed, “Honestly, I don’t know what Hyunjin was talking about. I’ve only organised two parties in my life…my best friend's and Kairi’s…they both ended in a disaster.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, I’m sure.” Jisung rolled his eyes, “So… he also happened to mention you’re real good at art. Can I see some of it or are you going to be shrouded in mystery forever?”

You giggled, reaching for your phone, “There is absolutely nothing mysterious about that, Jisung. You can see it, but… it’s not the best.”

He peeked into your phone gallery as you showed him a few paintings you’d made over the past few years, and Jisung probably wasn’t interested in art, but he still smiled, reacting overtly to each of them and even pointing out which ones he liked. He reminded you a lot of Yeonjun in that sense, where he took interest in something just because of his friends. He was playful, and it was nice to see the physical manifestation of all the stories Hyunjin told you about. You glanced up and Hyunjin was looking at you, probably curious about why you and Jisung were peeking into your phone, so you explained, “I was just showing him some of my paintings.”

He nodded, making brief eye contact with Jisung before he said, “Ah. I’m uh…going to check on the dessert.”

“Do you want my help?” You asked, already moving to stand up. He shook his head, “No, don’t worry. I wouldn’t wanna pull you away from the conversation.”

Disappointed, you settled back down, and Jisung spoke, “Can I ask you something, honestly though?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you leave your fancy wedding date to come here?”

“I…promised Kairi I’d try to make it here.” You replied, staring at the liquid in your glass. Jisung hummed, “Right, right. I see.” You were glad he didn’t push you further, seeing as how he was Hyunjin’s best friend and any answer you could come up with would be embarrassing. Before you could say anything further anyway, Changbin started talking about an incident on their trip to Japan, and you let yourself be swept up into the conversation. He was a great storyteller, and so charismatic. It wasn’t too hard to imagine why they were so famous. You’d only been here an hour or so, and you could listen to them talk for hours. Almost mesmerised by their dynamic, you watched the boys talk, losing track of time… and of how long Hyunjin had been gone. Your mug lay empty on the coffee table, and you stood up to refill it, when Changbin asked, “Where the fuck is Jinnie?”

“Probably hyper-fixating in the kitchen. Y/N, do you think you could call him out?” Jisung replied, looking at you expectantly. You blanked, feeling taken aback by the question. Kairi noticed, moving to stand, “Um, I can get—”

“No, that’s fine.” You spoke. You were braver than that and it would finally give you the chance to talk to him by yourself, “I can just get him.”

“Okay…” She settled back down, shooting you a comforting smile. You walked over to the kitchen, and your heels were so loud on the tiled floor that he’d definitely hear you coming. The door was closed, and you knocked lightly, not wanting to interrupt him.

“Come in.” His voice carried to you. You pushed the door open, eyes falling on him. He was leaning against the counter, drinking from his glass, staring into nothing. Well. He was staring at the oven, but why was he alone in here? He looked over his shoulder, eyes flickering over your form, “Oh. Hey.”

You stood awkwardly by the door, hand holding it open, “Hi. Um. The guys were…asking for you. I thought you were getting dessert.” He looked around, at the mess of things, “I was. It’s still not ready, so I decided to wait for it. You can let them know I’ll be there soon.”

“Oh.” You spoke, wondering if you should leave… but you were curious, “You’ve been in here by yourself for really long.”

“Yeah. Just wanted to be by myself for a bit.”

A tinge of hurt hit you, “Oh…do you want me to leave?”

He let out a sigh, putting his glass on the counter, and turned to face you, “No…you don’t have to do that.”

“But…you just said you want to be by yourself.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at you, amused look on his face, “That…obviously doesn’t include you.”

You’d been standing on the threshold the entire time, but at those words, you stepped in, letting the door shut behind you. You looked around the little kitchen, “Sorry I used your mug.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “That’s fine. I’m surprised you ended up picking mine. Guess we like the same things.”

“You could say that.” You breathed, hands behind your back. His gaze felt so strong on you, and it was so quiet in here compared to the chaos of the outside. He smiled lightly, when you asked him, “So…what dessert are we having tonight?”

He glanced at the oven, “A…strawberry tart. You like those?”

You thought about it, “I don’t know. I haven’t had one since I was a kid anyway.”

Hyunjin put his hands on the counter, tilting his head, “Really? Felix never baked one for you?”

“He was kind of obsessed with chocolate…I had too much of that.” You recalled. Hyunjin smiled, nodding, “Right. I remember trying out the treats he made us…when we went to the Creek for the swim.”

“Wow…that feels like it was ages ago.” You remembered. Hyunjin nodded, “It was. I guess. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Do you miss it?” You ended up asking. His expression softened, “I…do. Your friends were fun to hang out with.”

“Aren’t they your friends too?” You laughed. He shrugged cutely, “Right, but I don’t think I would’ve talked to anybody in town if it wasn’t for you.”

You smiled, “I think you’re giving me too much credit. That was all Hana. She’s the one who…introduced you to us.”

“You miss them? Your friends?” He asked. You sighed, leaning against the door, crossing your arms to keep warm as you thought about it, “Yeah. Recently I’ve missing home so much and my friends, well at this point they’re…like my family. It sucks being separated from them. Kind of like…how you felt when you were away from the boys.”

“I’m sorry if I forced you to stay.” He suddenly said, “I realize that…it may have been my emotionally clouded judgment, and I feel like… I guilted you into staying here. Maybe it was selfish of me.”

Your eyes narrowed, a realisation sinking in as to why he seemed a little distant, “Is that why you’re in here by yourself?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Just needed to take my mind off things. I guess honestly, I just…miss spending time with you, like we did back home. The other night, I was learning a new routine and realised you’ve never even seen me dance. Not in person, at least. I mean, isn’t that crazy? We’ve known each other so long, but there’s so much of me you don’t know. The thought freaked me out, and then…”

“And then?”

“Then I started thinking that it goes the other way too. There’s so much of you I still haven’t seen.” He said, “Like the other day, when you wore the jacket, I realised…I only know you in the summer. I haven’t seen you in winter."

Your heart squeezed at his confusing but thoughtful words, and you smiled, “I’m the same in all the seasons, Hyunjin.”

He was looking at you from across the room, “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Did you know I was coming here tonight?”

He shook his head, “I didn’t think you would. Kairi told me you had a wedding date with Jeonghan…”

“Yeah, I did. He understands though…this was just as important.”

He nodded, “Right.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I would love to see you dance…if you feel comfortable.”

He looked at you at that, smiling slightly, before a short embarrassed laugh, “Yeah."

The oven let out a ding, interrupting whatever you might say. He smiled wide, and his demeanour already seemed lighter, “It’s done. Do you wanna do the honor?”

“Oh. Sure”. You stepped over to him,, and he pulled open the oven door. He was standing so close now that you could see the perspiration slide down his jaw, droplets cascading down neck, and he must have been nervous this whole time. You bent down to see into the oven, and it smelled amazing, but before you could grab the handle of the hot pan, you felt a firm grip on your arm stopping you, “Wait—”.

Startled, you looked up at Hyunjin, his hand circling your wrist tightly, “What?”

His eyes searched yours, “It’s burning hot. Y/N. You’ll hurt yourself.”

You then realised you weren’t wearing any mitts, and you were just gonna grab the baking dish like so, with bare hands. How stupid. Your hair fell into your eyes, making it harder to see Hyunjin, but you mumbled a pathetic, “Oh.”

He reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear, then let out a chuckle, voice soft, “What were you thinking?”

You swallowed, staring at his lips, “I wasn’t.”

He smiled, standing up tall, “I got this.”

Your face felt hot, and you were only a little mortified. Carefully, Hyunjin placed the baking dish on the kitchen counter, taking off his oven mitts; they were red and matched your dress. He nudged you, elbow against yours, “You wanna be the first one to try it? I’ll let you have an extra piece and if you end up liking it and want the whole thing, I can just tell the others I burnt the dish.”

You laughed, looking up at him, “You’d lie to your friends so I could have more pastry?”

A knock on the door pulled your attention to Chan. He peeked in, “Hey guys. Sorry, I don’t want to interrupt…but Hanbin’s leaving, so he wanted to say goodbye.”

“Oh. Of course” Hyunjin said, and you followed them out into the foyer, where Hanbin and Sumni stood in their winter coats already and everybody was gathered around them. Kairi was hugging them, when Hyunjin spoke, “You’re not staying for dessert? Come onn.”

Hanbin smiled apologetically, “Dude, it’s gonna snow again, and the traffic’s terrible. If we don’t leave now, we won’t make it home until morning.”

“Oh, you should still take some of the strawberry tart some with you” Kairi said, running back into the kitchen, “I have a few takeout containers.”

You looked at Sunmi, “You said traffic’s going to be bad?” She nodded, “Yeah, Seoul basically shuts down in bad weather. We don’t wanna risk it. It’ll only get worse, but …it was really nice meeting you tonight, Y/N.”

You glanced at Chan, realising they were probably right, and your stomach sank, “Oh. I guess I should probably get going too then.”

“What?” Jisung complained loudly, “You just got here.”

“We can drop you off.” Hanbin suggested, “Our car’s parked out front.”

Jisung let out a dramatic sigh. You didn’t really want to leave, you were just getting to warm up to Hyunjin, but you didn’t have a choice. If you didn’t leave, you could be stuck until tomorrow. You reached for your coat, “That sounds good Hanbin, as long as it’s not an inconvenience.”

Kairi walked back in with takeout boxes in hand, and her eyes narrowed, “What’s going on? Y/N’s leaving too?”

You slipped your coat on, tossing your hair out of it, “They said they could take me home. The snow’s piling up....” Kairi shook her head, “Nope. You’re not leaving.”

You laughed, stepping closer to grab her hand, “What do you mean? I don't want to leave but I I don’t exactly have a choice.”

She squeezed your hands, “Babe, you just got a few hours ago. Stay a while, and if things are still bad when you want to leave, you can just sleep in my guest bedroom. I mean, that’s what it’s for.”

You considered it, and then Changbin spoke, “See? You have no excuses. So if you still decide to leave now, that just means you hate us.”

You laughed, “Okay, I guess I can stay a little.”

Kairi squealed, pulling you into a hug. Your heart warmed at the idea that they all wanted to spend more time with you. It was only the first time you were meeting most of them, but they still reacted like that. It made you feel wanted. You’d only been craving that all this while. From the corner of your eye, you caught Hyunijn’s reaction. He wasn’t dramatically expressive, unlike Changbin or Jisung, who wore their emotions on their sleeve. Hyunjin was watching this exchange quietly from the corner, arms across his chest, leaning against a pillar. He seemed calm, like he was okay with whatever you ended up doing, but he was gazing at you so intently it made you want to stay just so he’d look at you like that the rest of the night.

»»————-

In a matter of an hour, the strawberry tart had been cut up and shared, and remnants lay on porcelain plates decorating the coffee table. Kairi had beautiful crockery. She had a beautiful home. She had beautiful friends. Changbin was funnier than you expected — Hyunjin had never talked about his humour before, and you were glad you were discovering it on your own now. He was also touchy, he’d find excuses to touch Hyunjin and Jisung every now and then, a giggle on his face when they unwittingly pushed him away. You’d only been here a few hours, but watching their dynamic unfolding was wonderful.

After Hanbin and Seonmi had left, you’d moved over to the couch, which was much more comfortable than your earlier seat, and Hyunjin had surprisingly stayed where he was…which happened to be right next to you. He was manspreading, leaning against the couch arm, a drink in his hand. The music playing was much softer now, so it was easier to have the conversations and listen to them, and Jisung was playing the piano again quietly. Kairi animatedly explained something to him, and Chan was just listening with a smile on his face, while he stroked her back. They were so cute it made you want to die. You snuck glances at Hyunjin to your right, every now and then. He was still calm as ever, but his cheeks were red from all the drinking. His hair was messier too, and it made him look hotter than you could ever imagine. It was hard to look him in the eye, when he looked this good, so you focused on everything else. You were so engaged in another one of Changbin’s crazy stories, you didn’t realize when you reached to pull your dress down, you accidentally put your hand on Hyunjin’s thigh.

You don’t know what you were thinking. You’d severely miscalculated the distance between you. It was only for a second, but he noticed. Of course he fucking noticed. Instantly, he tensed up, pausing in the middle of his sip. You wondered if he’d push it away. If he’d tell you to stop, or ask what you were doing. Instead, he lift the drink to his mouth like nothing happened. You pulled your hand back before anybody else noticed. It was only an accident after all.

Changbin’s attention was all on you; he’d been telling you about his favorite records and artists in the music industry. He was enjoying the strawberry tart Hyunjin baked, leaving crumbs behind, and paused to ask you, “So now that you’ve been here a while, what’s your favorite place in the city?” You tilt your head, mulling over it, “I’ll have to think about that…I haven’t seen all of it yet.”

“Nobody’s seen all of it, Y/N” Jisung rolled his eyes, punctuating it with a laugh, “Even though some of us have been here our whole lives.”

That was hard for you to comprehend. You knew every inch of Daejon, every rock, every tree, each house. You’d eaten at every restaurant, shopped in every boutique, and knew everybody. “This might be a stupid question but do you never feel like exploring more of it?” You asked. Changbin shrugged, “It’s not really possible. Nobody has the time or the energy, or the money.”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin spoke, surprising you. You glanced at him, and he paused from drinking to address you, “I feel that…people here get stuck in their little convenient routines and never feel a want for more.”

Your eyes searched his, “What do you mean?”

He swirled the drink in his glass, “So many people here…get so comfortable. Not that there’s anything wrong with comfort, but when you live in a city like this…I don’t understand. They only go to the same coffee shop for fifty years, the same restaurants, not really trying anything new.”

“I hate that.” You spoke up, before he’d even finished speaking. You hated the idea of that, of an endless routine, and an unchanging life. It was one of the few things in life you were sure about. Hyunjin was looking at you and only you, as he spoke, “I know. So many people here…build their life around a few places, and those places become their life. Even though the city is so much bigger than that, and I guess I hate…the idea of settling for whatever there is.”

Changbin cleared his throat, “Well. I think I’m too drunk for this conversation.”

A tissue box lay on the end table next to Hyunjin. Turning back to the room, you asked, “Is it okay if I have the last piece of the pastry?” It was a unanimous yes, and when you bit into the tart, little crumbs fell to your thighs, and between your thighs. It was a mess so naturally, you said, “Sorry, could you pass me that, Hyunjin?”

He looked around, noticing the only thing next to him, the box of tissues. He nodded, “Yeah, of course” and reached in for a few, passing them to you. You took them from him, fingers brushing against his. Your stomach flipped at the sensation. His hand was so warm, and your fingers lingered on his a while longer — as long as you could without making it weird. Then, you simply wiped away the crumbs from your thighs, drawing Hyunjin’s brief attention to them. After all, you’d only been this messy with the pastry so you’d have an excuse to talk to him.

You wonder if he picked up on that. You hadn't been too subtle about it, being as messy as you could possibly be just so he'd have an excuse to give you the tissues. Hyunjin was so close to you, after being so out of reach. Being in the same room as him wasn’t enough, sitting on the same couch as him wasn’t enough. You wanted to touch him, be on him, and for him to be on you. You did feel kind of insane, but this was so much more than how crushes or boyfriends had ever made you feel. The desire you felt...you never even knew that was humanely possible. You were so lost in him, and his warm body sitting next to yours that you wouldn’t notice even if the room around you disappeared completely. Still, you owed something to the rest so you asked, “Um, what about you Changbin? What’s your favorite place?”

He lift his glass up, a wide grin on his face, “That’s easy. The recording studio.” Chan laughed, picking up on your conversation, “I second that answer.”

They really loved what they did. You wonder why your favorite place wasn’t automatically the painting studio. Shouldn’t it be that, seeing as to how that was your biggest purpose in life? But ever since the past few weeks, you dreaded returning to a studio. The thought made your stomach sink. If you weren’t an artist, what even were you? It sent you into a spiral, and you were dissociating from this party, just thinking about it.

“You okay?”

You could drown in the softness of that voice. A gentle touch to your shoulder, and you looked at Hyunjin as he lowered his voice, asking again, “You feel fine?”

You nodded, gripping your dress tightly, “Yeah, I was just…thinking about something.”

“Good, or bad?” He whispered, not wanting to interrupt all of the conversations in the room. You stared at him, “I don’t know. Bad.”

“Do you want to step out of here?” He asked. He was so attentive. Maybe he could be the solution for your predicament too. You shook your head, “I want to ask you something but it’s kind of…random.”

“I’m listening.” He spoke, an amused smile on his features. You swallowed, fiddling with the glass in your lap, and it was easy to filter out every noise in the room when he was next to you, “We always talked about painting together. Would you still be up for something like that? Or…are you too busy with your schedule?”

“If that’s something you want to do, we can do it together.” He replied, “I have a personal studio…you could come to my place, or…I could come to yours.”

“Maybe I should come to yours. I…wanna see your room too.” You spoke. He cracked a smile, “We can make that happen.”

In the midst of all this, you shifted, absentmindedly inching closer to Hyunjin on the couch, until your leg was completely touching his. You felt like a school girl finding excuses to touch her crush, and even just this little touch sent fireworks in your belly. He didn’t move away this time either, and that was a triumph in your book. He just sent you a comforting smile. Of course, the bubble popped, and Jisung said something, pulling your attention back to him, “You should really visit our recording studio, Y/N. I think you’d appreciate the…precision and organisation of everything.”

“How do you know that’s something I like?” You laughed. He shrugged, “I’ve only known you for a few hours, but you definitely give off that vibe.”

“Well, that’s pretty accurate, I’d say,” Kairi laughed, then looked to you, “I think you’d appreciate the way Chan organized my record collection.”

“You have a record collection?” You were surprised. She rolled her eyes, “Of course I do. I’m pretentious like that.”

“I can show you. They’re right by the TV.” Chan proposed, standing up. You didn’t want to leave Hyunjin’s side and warmth, but you didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity, so you stood up, “I’d love that.” It was in the same room, so at least you wouldn’t be too far from Hyunjin, and Chan began showing you the TV cabinet and how he’d arranged all the records in order of release and by band. He was giggling, explaining something, and you told him how much this reminded you of Yeonjun - he also had a similar collection of DVDs. Chan’s eyes lit up at that. He was surprised that people still bought DVDs, and you mentioned that he should meet Yeonjun. It was a crazy thing to suggest, but you didn’t think too much of it. Your two worlds colliding. You think they’d like each other. Thinking of it, Chan would probably like Felix, too. As he sifted through the records, you glanced back over to the couch where Hyunjin and Jisung were having an animated conversation. He seemed so happy, laughing loudly, eyes crinkling. You’d missed seeing him like that. You’d been getting used to meeting the tense version of him, and this was a welcome change. Around the people he loved, he seemed like the truest version of himself.

You wanted to catch a subtle glance at him for another split-second. But you caught so much more. He was staring at you. He was speaking to someone but his gaze kept flickering back to you, and he wasn’t even subtle about it. At least you had tried to not be so obvious, but he was blatantly checking you out. His gaze would flicker from his friends, to you, to your dress, to your legs. It made you feel dizzy, and you tried to not react.

You couldn’t still be upset at him for what happened all those weeks ago. He’d apologized, and he already said it was the hardest thing he had done. He had more than made up for it, hadn’t he? He had convinced you to stay. You’d tried so hard to move on, to force feelings for others, you’d kissed another boy, but it was impossible. Ever since he left Daejon…you’d tried to not think about him, but he was everywhere and in everything you saw. In your good moments, and in your bad. Even after he broke your heart, he was all around you.

Chan started telling you about his favorite records, and you got lost in the conversation until Kairi called him back, whining cutely from the empty armchair. So with a few top-tier record recommendations by Chan, you made your way back to the couch, and Hyunjin was still laughing over a silly joke. He shifted so you could sit, and as soon as you did, he asked you, “Find anything you liked?”

“Quite a few. I’m excited to hear them.”

And just like that, with a small smile and a nod, Hyunjin’s hand moved to your bare thigh. Your dress had ridden up as soon as you’d sat back down, and he had jumped at the opportunity with no hesitation. Your heart raced at the realisation. Anybody could see this, but he didn’t seem to care. He inched upwards, settling comfortably on your upper thigh, right where the hem of your dress ended. It sent a wave of arousal though you. Jisung began speaking again. Trying to be nonchalant was hard, when your heart was jumping up and down at this little development. A part of you was so happy he’d forgotten any and all unsaid boundaries that he had set himself months ago. Things had changed with him, and you wanted to dig into his brain to find out what led to this behaviour. What happened to not wanting you, to not taking risks, to not wanting a relationship or love?

The others didn’t seem to care that Hyunjin was touching you so openly, or that he’d completely checked out of the conversation. He was too preoccupied with touching you. His thumb drew circles on your bare skin, and it was comforting, it wasn’t meant to be sexual, but how could it also not be? You’d been starved for this, so you couldn’t help the sensations through you at his simple touch. Chan spoke to you again, “You should really come to the building. We can show you around. Eunwoo would probably be okay with it.”

You guessed that Eunwoo was their manager’s name, and you supposed that Chan was directing that to Hyunjin, but Hyunjin had completely stopped participating in this discussion, forgetting that he held a purpose to this gathering other than touching you like this. But no purpose could be greater than that, could it?

Each circle he traced sent a shiver down your spine, strokes of lightning down your thigh, between your legs. Jisung started talking about something else, and you couldn’t keep track. You were lightheaded. You were dying. Each second that Hyunjin’s thumb brushed against your thigh, you screamed a bit inside. He was so nonchalant with it, holding your leg at a party like you were his. You were his. Despite everything. His metallic rings were cold on your skin, and Hyunjin's hands slipped between your thighs. All of his friends were here, but nobody was looking at that. Hyunjin was talking to Chan, smiling occasionally, and groping your thigh at the same time. You wish he'd never stop. It was so fucking hot. Your head was spinning, and your heart felt like it might collapse from beating too fast. It couldn’t be normal for it to pound so loudly in your chest. Could everyone in this room hear you? Could they hear the insanity within you for him? Why couldn’t he should just drop this charade, take you away and fuck you right now?

A drink. You needed a drink. You interrupted the conversation, perhaps speaking far too loudly, “Han, could you please pass me the bottle of wine?”

Han nodded, reaching over with the bottle clumsily, and it was fine until it wasn’t. He was too drunk and preoccupied as he handed it to you. The wine spilled over, landing right on your lap and soaking your dress. “Fuck!” Jisung exclaimed, standing up, “I’m so sorry!”

Hyunjin pulled his hand back from your thigh, at the sudden sensation. It was like a cold shower, snapping you out of your daze. The liquid ruined your dress, and it was an expensive one, but it wasn’t Jisung’s fault. You wouldn’t blame him when it was entirely your fault. You didn’t want to disrupt the party, so you quickly stood up, “Don’t worry about it.” You glanced at Kairi, who’d vaguely registered that this had happened, “Could I use your bathroom?”

“Of course. Do you need me to bring you a change of clothes?”

“No, it should be fine. Excuse me…” You made your way out of the living room. You went up the stairwell, the music fading in the background. Your heels were muffled on the carpeted staircase, and your legs felt shaky. Jisung had informed you the bathroom was to the right. You stepped in, catching a glimpse of yourself in the reflection. Your hair was messier than it should be, but it was still fine. You hadn’t drank anything in the past few hours, but you definitely felt drunk. Opening the faucet, you splashed droplets of water onto your dress. The wine had completely spread out, staining the skirt, and your only respite was that it was red wine on a red dress. You braced yourself against the countertop, letting out a sigh, wondering if this had been a stupid idea.

A soft knock pulled you out of your despair.

“Come in.” You unlocked the door to Hyunjin standing there. He was leaning against the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets, “Hey…you okay?” His concerned gaze fell to your dress, “What’s the verdict? Will the dress survive?”

“You tell me.” You laughed, lifting it up to show him the wine stain. He grimaced, “Shit. You need help?” You didn’t. After all, what could he do that you couldn’t? But you nodded, “Yeah”

He stepped in. The bathroom was tiny. It was cute, with a marble countertop and Kairi clearly had a flair for decoration. Hyunjin pushed his sleeves up, wetting his hands in the sink and grabbed the hem of your dress, fingers rubbing at the stain. He was bent over, eyebrows furrowed and concentrated. He must be trying a new cologne. His scent was so strong, infiltrating your brain, your body, your being. It was sexy, and it was so him. It didn’t help how dizzy you felt.

“I don’t think it's going to come out.” You said truthfully, so he wouldn’t engage in a losing battle. He seemed determined though, “I’m sorry. Jisung can be…such a klutz sometimes.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” You said, as Hyunjin suggested, “There must be something in the cabinet that would help, like a wine stain remover or something.”

“I doubt it.” You laughed, leaning against the counter and Hyunjin dejectedly let go of your skirt. He was frowning, a stupid pout on his pretty face, “It’s a shame… That’s a beautiful dress.”

You smiled, accepting this loss and crossed your arms, “Don’t worry too much. It’s only temporary. I’m sure it can be fixed.”

“Maybe I can step into Kairi’s closet, and grab you another dress?” He suggested. You shook your head before he could finish, “You don’t need to do that for me.”

Yet he was about to leave, determined to get you out of this sticky situation. A surge of panic rose through you. You grabbed the front of his sweater, pulling him back in, “Wait, Hyunjin.”

He stumbled back to you, confused, “Yeah?”

Your voice fell to a lower tone, a little embarrassed at your urgency, “Don’t go just yet.”

His eyes met yours, an intense look in them, “Why?”

Your eyes closed, and you were still gripping onto his sweater, “My head is spinning.”

“You drank too much?” He realised. You opened your eyes to look at him, and he was much closer than you’d anticipated, “I guess I was trying to deal with being in the same room as you.” You joked, with a dry chuckle. He seemed amused, “You really can’t stand me that much?”

You bit your lip, glancing up at him, wondering if he missed all the obvious signs tonight, “You know that’s not true.”

“And I know that your head’s not really spinning.” He said without pause. You frowned, straightening up, “How could you possibly know that?”

His lips curled up, and he could probably hear your pounding heart, “You didn’t even have a single sip tonight. I was looking at you the entire night.”

So he noticed that all you drank was water tonight, but you had to keep up appearances, “You’re accusing me of lying?”

“Maybe you’re just trying to keep me in here with you.”

Your voice dropped, “Why would I do that, Hyunjin?”

His eyes crinkled, an amused expression on his face which was so cocky that it pissed you off and turned you on at the same time. He said, “I don’t claim to know your secret agenda.”

“I don’t have an agenda.”

He shrugged, a smile playing at his lips, “Spilling wine on yourself on purpose sure makes it seem like you have one.”

“What are you talking about?” You gasped, laughing in disbelief at his accusation, “Why would I do something so stupid?”

“Because you knew I’d follow you.” He gripped the marble counter behind you, caging you between his arms. You lost your words, heat rising to your cheeks, and suddenly reality was settling in. He was closer to you every second, and you could see every detail on his face - you could see yourself in his eyes, and his lips were so close to to being on yours. The situation seemed all too familiar, and you had to think straight. You couldn’t let yourself be driven by lust again, you couldn’t just be conveniently kissing him, no matter how much you wanted it, without knowing what it meant to him. You mumbled, hands reaching up to his chest, like a physical barrier between your bodies, and it took you strength to do and say so, “Hyunjin…you can’t kiss me if you’re just going to leave again.”

His voice was soft, “I think for me to leave you tonight, someone would have to kill me."

Something in you shifted, and your body was buzzing and tingly all over. He never had trouble leaving you before so you couldn't understand, “What... changed?”

He paused, as if finding the right words, “Even when you were gone…you were everywhere.”

His gaze fixated on yours, like he could see right through you, into your soul, and maybe he could this entire time. Maybe that’s why everything he spoke was thoughts you’d kept hidden, and every touch felt like coming home. When he was gone, he was everywhere too. If you ever needed more of a sign...then this was it. There were so much you could say to him in that moment, but you just settled for saying, “You were right.”

He was incapable of looking in your eyes, gaze fixated on your lips, “About what—?” And in the same second, you pulled him to you, unable to keep any of this charade up longer, fists knotted in his shirt, crushing his lips to yours.

A surprised noise left his mouth at your urgency but Hyunjin was a lover before he was anything else and so he recovered within seconds, grabbing your face to kiss you back. His grip was tight, and desperate, and you pushed him until he was against the door. His lips tasted of a strange combination of red wine and of strawberry tart, and he pressed his mouth to yours so hard it could bruise, one hand around your neck, the other gripping your jaw, and it wasn't enough. He only pulled back to breathe, and let out a breathless chuckle, “I was right about what?”

“I did drop the wine on purpose.” You admitted, wondering his reaction, but he just immediately grabbed you again, crushing your mouths together again. It was stupid but you just needed to be alone with him, and it was the only way you could think of. He laughed in between the kiss, “That’s so stupid.” He pressed you to the counter, hands tight on your waist, knocking over whatever Kairi had so perfectly curated on the countertop. Your head spun with desire, and he pushed his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. He accommodated you so easily, tilting his head to kiss you better, falling back into this rhythm like it was natural to your body. You let go of his shirt, leaving it crinkled, so you could tug at his hair. His hands were everywhere. Around your neck, in your hair, at your waist. He groaned, pulling away for a second to mumble, “I missed you so much. You could have just asked me... And I thought I did stupid things to get your attention.”

“I missed you too.” You breathed, hands resting at the nape of his neck, sifting through his hair as you looked up at him, doe eyes, and since he wanted you to ask him, you would, “Please kiss me again.”

He didn’t hesitate, pressing his lips to yours and grinning into the kiss. Your hands dropped to the waistband of his jeans, and you tugged at them, trying to unbutton it. He must have sensed your urgency, a whine mixed in between your pecks, so he grabbed your thighs, lifting you onto the marble countertop. He didn’t stop kissing you for a second, fingers skimming your skin, sending a rush through your body, and his tongue slipped into your mouth again, and you wish you could swallow each other whole.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, so reminiscent of the first time you’d kissed him. It had been on a night like tonight, and the longing had built up so much it was pouring out of you. All of this pining certainly couldn’t be good for the two of you by the roughness of your touches, like you were both afraid to be pulled away from each other. You tugged at his sweater, pushing it up to his chest, so you could touch his skin. Your hands were cold, and he shivered at the touch, but he didn’t stop you, kissing your jaw at the same time you felt him up. Your head tilted to the ceiling as he trailed kisses down your neck, you let your hands explore his body, feeling the muscles in his abdomen and tightening your hold on him. He was so compliant. He was so desperate. You felt him undo your bow, unzipping the dress. A fire burned within you, and his name was a familiar moan on your lips, “Hyun…”

“Yes, baby?” His voice was hoarse, and his mouth and his face was covered in your red lipstick. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. A giggle escaped you, and you brushed your thumb against his lips, “You have some of me on you.”

He shook his head, unbothered, leaning in to kiss you again, “I have all of you in me.”

It meant something deeper than red lipstick. It meant so much that you could probably wonder about it for days, but you just grabbed his face in your hands, cupping his soft cheeks. All of him was in you too. He was a part of who you were, and you couldn’t recall a time before Hyunjin in your life. He kissed your cheek, trailing kisses down your neck. It was hard to think straight when his mouth was sucking on you, and the bulge in his pants was pressing against you. You're sure Kairi kept a condom in here somewhere. You would let him fuck you. Right here. Right now. But a familiar worry festered within you, and it was physically impossible to pull back from the kiss as you whispered, “Wait.. you’re sure about doing this?”

He opened his eyes to look at you, and he looked so lovesick, eyes-half lidded, breathing heavy, hair messy and your spit and lipstick coating his lips, “About what?”

You touched his face, tracing your fingers over his cheeks and his pretty mouth, tracing it all to memory again after it had been ripped away from you for all this time. Perhaps you were ruining the passion of the moment, but you couldn’t let yourself go through that heartbreak again, “I don't want you to regret this. You said you didn’t want to start something that could put you…or the band at risk. So are you sure about…what we’re doing?”

It seemed to be Hyunjin’s biggest fear — a relationship, falling in love, somebody finding out about you. His company. His managers. His fans. The press. The rest of the world.

“I was sure the minute I asked you to stay, Y/N.” He whispered, kissing you again, “You’re…everything to me.”

The confession seemed drastic from the Hyunjin who had pushed you away countless times, from the Hyunjin who kissed you only to tell you he could never want a relationship. Yet you still didn’t know what he actually wanted. Would he wake up and regret this? He kissed the corner of your mouth, like he couldn’t get enough of you, squeezing you in his grip, and said, “I’ve been doomed for you ever since I saw you. Nothing changed. I just…decided to stop fighting it.”

His words implied a sense of… inevitability and fate. You were doomed for him too. No matter what pulled you apart, something pushed you together always. It felt like an endless cycle…a trajectory you two were on that neither of you could control. Your eyes widened, and you'd never been this happy, “You’re…not just saying this because you’re drunk?”

He smiled at your words, cupping your face, “I’m not drunk, Y/N. If you really want to know what changed…the past month, I’ve just been feeling so fucking stupid. Seeing you with somebody else. I think I wanted to die when I saw you kiss Nate…and not being able to talk to you about everything, god, for the past few months, I couldn’t get you out of my head and I would have so much to say and no one to say it to…and then on the other hand, I see Chan the happiest he’s ever been, and I feel…so fucking stupid.”

His eyes seemed so sincere, so genuine and you whispered, “So…what are we doing to do now?”

“I guess... now we have to go back downstairs, because our friends are waiting for us…and you’re still soaked in wine.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip, and he pulled you closer, like he didn't want to let you go.

“Right…” You trailed off, tightening your grip on him, “That’s probably what we should do.”

“Yeah. That’s the right thing to do.” He mumbled, but he was already eating up his own words, swallowing your breath, and pressing you to the mirror. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer in a starved, hungry kiss and it didn’t feel humanely possible to be closer than this. He let out a moan, pressing kisses to your lips, “Fuck, I missed you so fucking much.”

You nodded, matching his every frenzied kiss, “Me too. I want you so bad.”

This rush. It seemed to always consume you, and Hyunjin squeezed your tits through your dress, pushing the skirt up and you were both losing control again. He pulled back, restraining himself, “I…we shouldn’t do this here.”

He said that, but he still kept kissing you, and this was a vicious cycle you would always find yourself in. You had wanted him for so long that you didn’t care where you were, but surely…this wasn’t the place. Your first time being that intimate with him shouldn’t be on top of a marble bathroom countertop, with so much opportunity to be interrupted by your friends. You’d just be setting yourself up for failure if you continued. You pulled back from the kiss too, “I think somebody needs to physically separate us for that to work.”

He laughed, and his voice was hoarse from all the kissing, and his lips were swollen. You were capable of waiting a while, instead of jumping each others bones right now. You were both adults, and you could restrain yourself. It was hard to take him seriously with imprints of your lipstick on his mouth. It made him look romantic. It made him look like yours. You wish you covered all of him in it, lip prints over his whole body, leaving no spot un-kissed. You’d missed him so much, it just felt dumb to stop now, but you did. He breathed in, calming himself, “You’re right. We…don’t have to rush.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “I want to rush though.”

He laughed, fingers caressing your jaw so softly, “I just…I have to ask you something, before we go back downstairs—”

“Yes?”

“I know that I’ve acted stupidly about this in the past, but when I told you all those things, when I said that it’s a risk, that’s still true, Y/N. It’s still dangerous. You don’t know how wild it can get, if…anybody finds out about you. People are just looking for an opportunity to hurt us, me, the other guys, and…if you’re around me, then that includes you too. I can’t let anything happen to you, or hurt you. I would never forgive myself.” Hearing him talk made you afraid again. This was where it had always ended. This would be the last thing Hyunjin would always say to you, after kissing you. It always ended here, like a dead-end to your perfect dream, and you dreaded his next words, heart pounding like you'd pass out. You expected it.

But instead he said, “I want you. So much. I know that now, that nothing can replace the feeling of you.”

Your eyes were wide, and this was already a different direction than it. had ever gone last time, “What are you saying, Hyunjin?”

“I’m saying that…if we…really do this, there’s going to be a lot of…discretion. It’s probably going to be difficult and frustrating as fuck, and we’re both going to have to be really careful. Is that… really okay with you?”

You understood what Hyunjin was asking you. If you and him were to be together, it could only be a thing of secrecy.

It wouldn’t be a relationship you dreamed of. Nothing about it would be normal, or usual. It would only exist behind closed doors, and in storage closets, and in the privacy of your bedrooms. If you and him were to continue this…it would always have to stay a secret.

It would be hard to restrain your love for him, but in all honesty… you had done nothing else since you were fifteen and saw him in the art shop. You had loved him since then, and you could love him in any circumstance, even if it was in secret. Going back to not having him in your life was impossible. You leaned in to kiss him, to remind yourself of how real this was, and how much he was worth to you. An excitement bloomed in your chest from what was to come as you whispered against his lips, “I guess it’s a good thing then that I’m good at keeping secrets.”

»»————-

masterlist ⇒

please let me know if you liked the chapter, or any thoughts on this part! thank you :)

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leeminho-hall · 2 months

Text

THE EXPERIENCE PROJECT | EP. 4 ON ALL FOURS

— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —

“Don’t tease me,” he warns you, looking at you again. “You’re gonna regret this. Otherwise I’m gonna have to put you in your place until you shut that bratty mouth.”

[ warning ]: explicit sexual scenes [ softdom minho, corruption kink, fingering, oral f receiving, edging, slight brat reader and brat tamer minho, slight sir kink, reader gets called a slut but combined with lots of praise ], consumption of alcohol, jealousy, mention of cheating

[ words ]: 6.9K

[ note ]: thank you once again for the INSANE support. I hope you like this chapter. Make sure to reblog, comment or send an ask my way. I’d be very grateful for it. Lots of love to y’all 🌸

A comfortable feeling is hugging your skin, the fluffiest fabric attached to your upper body, it almost makes you fall back asleep. However, you lost count how many alarms have been echoing through your bedroom by now and something drags you to finally stand up. Your eyes shoot open, telling you it’s time to get ready for your first class—while you curse yourself for choosing courses at early hours knowing damn well you hate getting up before 10 or at all.

When your eyes peek down to the material that’s covering your form, you witness a colour you don’t see on you that often. You’re wearing a new sweater.

Minho’s sweater.

Midnight blue suits you more than you would have expected and you wish you could wear said clothing for the rest of the day until you realise you have to leave the house and go to campus. Right. You grab a fresh towel and a dress with a pastel purple pattern on it, search for your fitting grape earrings and make your way to the bathroom. The hot shower does wonders to your delusional brain that’s been drifting in all the directions of how last night ended. The way you were sitting in Minho’s lap, the beautiful whimpers that made it past his lips and right into your ears or how he looked at you with those big brown boba eyes, silently begging for more. You’ve totally underestimated yourself by a thousand levels. You’ve never imagined to have such an impact on a man, certainly not Minho of all.

And it plays evil games with both your mind and your heart. Sure, you’ve been physically attracted to Minho before all that. Who isn’t, right? However, only within seventy two hours, this has grown into an avalanche that you fear you won’t be able to stop if you don’t slow down a little and hit the brake paddle soon. You’re not even friends, although you feel comfortable around him the way you do when you’re with Felix or Jisung. Apart from the fact that they haven’t been knuckles deep inside your pussy and you haven’t granted them a mind-blowing orgasm just with your hand.

Okay. Slow down. The brake paddle. A splash of cold water—thanks to how old this building is, which ends in a sudden change of temperature whenever your neighbours must be taking a shower too—brings you back to reality. Until you think about the deeper meaning of all this. Sure, it’s one thing that Minho is helping you with your little physical issues. But then again—he gave you his sweater. He made dinner for you twice. He went to an ice rink with you because you mentioned it once.

And you’re nothing better. After forgetting to text him the other day, the first urge your silly little heart experiences is to buy food for the both of you, spontaneously visit him and spend time with him. You don’t understand why you haven’t gotten along with him these past three years. Well, he’s been constantly teasing you, of course, but why is he suddenly so entirely different whenever it’s just the two of you alone?

You’re still strong. You’ve got enough power left to not think further about the consequences of a mess you willingly created. You love Hyunjin. You’ve been in love with him for years. A few evenings spent with Minho won’t change that, right? It’s definitely just the sign, a little challenge, that’ll end in you realising even more that Hyunjin is the right one for you. Although it should in fact be a sign that you’re constantly thinking about your enemy and haven’t even wasted a second dreaming about the date yesterday that you had been waiting for for six months…

Pushing this inner monologue as if you are the main character in some Ancient Greek drama aside, you hop out of the shower, finding the mirror all foggy. One day when you finish college you’ll hopefully have enough money to afford an apartment with a bathroom that has a window. You slip into your underwear, socks and the colourful dress, before you put your hair in a comfortable style for a long day of college classes.

“Y/N, good morning. How’re you?”

You’re back in the hallway and already putting on your shoes when you fully register that Felix is talking to you. “Fine! In a bit of a rush but fine. You too?”

“Hmm, I wanted to ask something,” your roommate says, his lower lip caged between his teeth. He looks a bit nervous and your heartbeat instantly quickens. You dearly hope he hasn’t caught up on the thing going on between Minho and you.

“Better make it quick, Lixie,” you tell him, both because you are actually in a rush but also want to avoid any drama in the morning—or at all.

“It’s just… we can discuss this further later… but Jisung said something the other day when I played video games with him,” he starts.

You look at your best friend confused, “Jisung? What’s with him?”

“Well not with him but… he has noticed you not being here that often. Maybe you’re studying a lot since it’s your last year and all but… it almost seems like you sneak out and come back late at night,” he speaks with a low and quiet voice.

“Lixie… I…”

They’ve noticed. They’ve noticed the lies and all the secret things you’re doing behind their back with Minho. They’ve noticed that their friend has invited you over three days in a row. They’ve noticed that you have a contract that states Minho will teach you everything regarding kissing, touching and all that comes beyond that. They’ve noticed—

“We were just wondering if you either are already back together with Hyunjin and didn’t tell us because we saw you coming back in a man’s sweater last night that probably belongs to him but then again you told Jisung you’d be going out with a friend to campus… so… perhaps you found other friends that are better than us?”

Your heart drops. Oh, God, this is seriously the last thing you wanted. This is awful. You haven’t even thought that far that your two friends would probably search for the reason for your odd behaviour by questioning if they’ve done anything wrong. So, you instantly pull Felix into a tight hug, as you reassure him it’s nothing like this.

“Baby, no… I haven’t. No one could ever replace you and I only need you. I’m so sorry, really. It’s just a lot going on but I swear I will always be honest with you, no secrets.” Lie number one. “And, yes, the sweater belongs to Hyunjin. I wore it because it got cold last night.” Lie number two.

You notice a huge weight dropping off your roommate’s shoulders and then a bright smile follows, his eyes turning into crescents, “I’m glad to hear that you’re finally getting together. I’ve always known he’s the one for you, Y/N.”

“I’ve gotta go now,” you end the conversation, blaming it on the fact you’re late yet again and not that you’re not sure anymore if what Felix says is true.

What would you know about truth? You’ve been lying to your closest friends for half a week now.

Felix is a bit startled but he doesn’t question it. “Sure, have a nice day.”

“I’m so happy to meet you,” Areum says, pulling you into a hug. Yes, you agreed on getting breakfast with her, both because you kind of don’t trust her, unsure what her true intentions are but you’re also very hungry after your 8AM class.

“I’m happy too, how are you?”

The two of you sit down at a table close to a window of this cute little café that you’ve been to so many times, after ordering at the front. “I’m great! I love your dress by the way. The colour really suits you and”—her mouth falls agape—“the earrings! They match perfectly, you’ve got such a lovely style.”

You seriously can’t read her. Still, you mumble a small ‘thank you’, hoping to not sound too awkward. There’s so much you want to ask her, most of the questions revolving around Minho, yes, but you don’t know her that well enough to do so. And something tells her she might feel the same, judging by how shy she suddenly gets when the conversation dies down.

“I know talking about exes isn’t the best thing,” she starts and you’re glad she’s doing so, especially with that topic, “but I’m truly sad that we’ve never gotten introduced to each other. I know Jisung and some of Minho’s friends from dance practice—Yeonjun and Hyunjin—but I’m more of a girl’s girl and rather hang out with women, especially when it’s about friendships, you know?”

Oh. That surprises you.

Two things, to be specific. Given the circumstances that Areum is speaking the truth, of course.

She calls herself a girl’s girl. Perhaps, to make you trust her or she’s actually being honest. You don’t know her enough to evaluate that but you hope it matches reality. This is something that’s truly important to you when it comes to—developing—friendships.

Second, she knows Hyunjin. Minho has introduced her to Hyunjin. Now you’re the one who wishes to have more female friends because this way you could have asked them for boys advice years ago. But instead you are left with a roommate that has a crush on his gym buddy, a nerd that only knows how to talk to women online and… well… your enemy that is indeed giving you tips but not in that way Areum or another girlfriend could.

Hopefully, she isn’t hiding behind a mask and you can perhaps ask her for advice soon. Because you damn sure will need it after the roller coaster this week has been. Of course, by leaving out the details that you’ve been messing around with her ex boyfriend.

“I get what you mean! I’m only ever hanging around with my male friends, I wish I had more female ones too. Some topics can be discussed easier with women than with… them.”

She chuckles, “You understand me. It might be a shame that Minho never told me about you”—you start to keep wondering why—“but destiny still brought us together, right?”

Talking to Areum feels strangely natural. As if you’ve known each other for years. You’re not the most similar, but your differences are what complements you.

“So, tell me, Y/N… are you someone that dates a lot?”

Oh, not the topic you hate the most. Perhaps, that’s why you only have a handful of friends and only ever stick to your chaotic group because they don’t talk about dating issues that often. For someone who lacks experience in that fiel big time, there’s nothing more annoying than getting asked the same questions over and over again.

“No, not really,” you admit.

Areum breathes out, “Thank God—I mean, you do you. But with other friendships I had in the past, especially when I was younger, they only ever talked about their dates and men problems.”

This can’t be. She completely understands you. Perhaps, Areum and you are something like platonic soulmates.

Okay, tone it down, Y/N, or do you want her to know that you’re a little bit of a weirdo who only hangs out with other weirdos?

“I relate so much…” you admit.

Areum gives you a soft smile, “Still, I unfortunately have a crush on someone right now but I’m sure it’s nothing serious. So nothing much to talk about.”

However, this catches your ears. Is she possibly not over Minho yet? This would be a disaster. It’s bad enough that you are becoming friends with a girl whose ex boyfriend is (almost) having sex with you, no strings attached. But you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if Areum still had feelings for him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s someone I’ve known for a while but we met again last night at the semester opening party,” she says, gently biting her lower lip.

Oh, right. You totally forgot that there was this party on campus last night, way too busy stroking your enemy’s dick, huh?

But, wait—this kind of shrinks the possibilities. Maybe Minho went to said party after your evening spent together. He could have gone to campus after bringing you home but last time you checked he isn’t really someone who attends festivities like these. But maybe he ignored that and went there for Areum. A weird feeling spreads through your stomach at the thought of it but you push it aside. It could be possible, though, and perhaps your new friend isn’t comfortable enough yet to confess that she’s still in love with her ex which would explain her cryptic way of speaking.

“I’ve got a crush on someone too… for some time,” you confess now all of a sudden hoping it will establish some trust. “We went on a date but we will be taking no all this slowly, you know?”

“That’s lovely,” Areum says with a smile that looks genuine. “If you ever feel comfortable talking more about it or need some advice, you know where to find me.”

You’re still thinking about the conversation with Areum once afternoon strikes you. Wednesdays this year seem to be extraordinarily busy but that’s okay. It’s your last semester after all. You’re on your way to your last lecture of the day, when a detail from earlier hits you again.

What if Minho actually met Areum last night? What if they are becoming a thing again? You should be happy, right? Well, except for the fact that he’d be breaking the contract but you went on a date with Hyunjin too. Your head keeps confusing you, until you get on your way back home, still thinking about the possibility of Areum and Minho as a couple and what it does to your dumb little heart.

You’re soaking up your useless and irritating thoughts, until your phone screen brightens while you’re on the subway. Great. Hyunjin finally texted you back. You asked him if he wanted to go to one of the art exhibitions on campus tomorrow. Unlocking your device, you read the message.

[ Hyunjin ]: Hey, angel ❤️ I’m so sorry but a friend I haven’t seen in a while already asked me to go there together. How about we go to the flea market together on Friday?

You send your crush a quick reply, wondering if there’s more behind this message than what he says. But you brush those ideas off, since you’re done with your brain messing with you. Not everyone wants to be the bad guy in your story and you should understand that. Everything’s alright. You’re gonna go home, make yourself some nice dinner and later go to Minho’s place for another study session.

After a quick shower, you change into a similar looking dress from what you wore for uni, before adjusting your makeup a little. You’re invited to Minho’ apartment once again, patiently waiting for another one of his lessons until you’re interrupted by your phone making a second, indicating you received a message. You pick up the device and read the text.

[ Minho ]: Hey, there’s one small issue about tonight. My little sis is still at my place. She was actually meeting up with some friends but they cancelled and there’s also a bunch of course work she has to get done so she’s staying here. Should we reschedule or do you have a different idea?

That’s a bummer. However, your roommates told you they’d be away tonight, as if you’ve got this all planned.

[ You ]: you can come to my place too. felix said he is leaving for the studio later with jisung. so it shouldn’t be an issue.

Problem solved. Minho sends you a quick reply back and a few minutes later, you’re ready for the night and make your way to the living room. You plop down on the sofa, watching some random show on Netflix, while you wait for your tutor to arrive. Half an hour passes and you receive another notification telling you he will be here soon.

Then the front door swings open. Wait. Minho doesn’t have a key for the apartment, how did he make it inside?

“It’s just us, Y/N,” you hear Felix’s voice, “Chan and Changbin postponed our meeting at the studio by like one or two hours.”

Fuck. You instantly grab your phone from your dress’s pockets and open the chat with Minho. Just when you’re about to send the text you hastily typed into the device, the bell rings. And faster than you’re able to react in any way, your best friend is already swinging the door open, revealing a very confused Minho.

“Min, what are you doing here?” Felix asks.

“I’m… Jisung forgot something at my place,” he lies, before his eyes find yours, as you desperately try to hide the panic swirling around in yours.

But, okay. He’s improvising and managing this situation quite well.

“Nothing new. Why don’t you come in? We wanted to order food,” your roommate offers. Jisung is still in the bathroom so he doesn’t notice that his best friend is here right now.

Minho nods, “Uhm, sure. You don’t have any plans tonight?” A subtle way of finding out why the hell your roommates are here when you told him that you’d be alone.

“Oh, we’re going to the studio later but Chan and Changbin need some more time so we still got an hour or so…” Felix explains, shrugging his shoulders, before he reaches for his phone and opens some delivery app.

“Cool,” Minho replies. “Yeah. I can just go back home when you leave, too.”

Suddenly, your roommate turns around to you, “Y/N? Is that okay for you?”

“S-Sure,” you stammer.

Twenty minutes later the food arrives and the whole group is sitting on the couch and chairs revolving around the little table in the middle. There’s some music playing in the background, coming from the TV.

“Let’s play a drinking game, friends,” Jisung suddenly says, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head.

One of your eyebrows rises up, “Drinking game?”

“It’s our last year, isn’t it?”

Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. But Jisung has always had the stupidest and most random ideas.

“Fine,” Felix says, getting up and bringing an empty bottle from the kitchen as well as some soju and a few shot glasses. “Let’s do some Truth Or Drink, hm?”

Jisung’s eyes get filled with stars, “Good idea!” He fills the little jars with the transparent liquid while you dearly pray the question you will be receiving won’t be as bad as you expect. Getting drunk isn’t quite what you anticipate right now but luckily, the food you ordered will work as a great base to stay relatively sober.

The first few rounds are pretty bearable. Some innocent questions about past crushes, the most embarrassing things you’ve done—although Jisung is clearly leading in this category—or some forbidden stuff you did when you were teenagers. Everything okay. Until your temporary roommate decides to change the route a little and the questions turn rather spicy.

“How far have you gone with Changbin, Lix?” he asks, having a smirk all over his face.

Your best friend rolls his eyes, “You already know this. Not far. He’s touched me a few times during gym sessions to adjust my posture but that wasn’t anything sexual from his side. Although it was more than nice, I must admit. Have you seen that man’s arms?!”

Yeah. You’ve all seen. Felix mentions it at least once every two hours. Your best friend is already in a great party mood thanks to the fact he is playing this game in a truth and drink version but you don’t mind. Until it makes him become a bit more creative with his own questions too.

“How’s it going with your crush, Sungie?” he asks and the atmosphere in the room turns even funnier. It’s hilarious how these two rile each other up.

“Not that much going on, bro. We’re in the same hopeless situation. However, just a few minutes ago when I went to the kitchen and grabbed another soju bottle, she sent me a pic wearing only red lingerie,” Jisung says with a wink.

“But you still don’t know what she looks like and what her real name is.”

Jisung scoffs, “Yes, and? We’re taking things slow.” He knows that this is a lie and he’s just too shy to make the next move. The girl he’s been talking to online after playing video games with her for literal months seems to have a good effect on her—if your friend just wasn’t so socially awkward and slightly inexperienced to finally gather up enough courage to ask her out in the real world. But you definitely aren’t someone to judge that case.

The bottle gets spun again, sprinting around in circles until it comes to a halt and lands on you.

“Y/N…” Jisung starts with a wide grin, “you and Hyunjin, huh? How’s it going? Are the rumours true? That he’s unbelievably good in bed?”

You obviously don’t know and also don’t wanna know where the hell Jisung has that information from. But then again, little Miss Gossip Girl has his nose everywhere so it doesn’t surprise you. When you shift your gaze around in the room, you find Minho’s face as neutral as ever. Of course. You wonder if the day may come when he will show the tiniest sign of emotions but then you remember that you achieved exactly this last night. Even if said emotion was pure lust. But it still counts.

Your eyes wander further, finding your enemy’s hands gripping the blanket underneath him, as if he’s trying to control his anger. His jaw is clenched now and if you weren’t so focused on checking him out, you’d realise that Felix is noticing the silent conversation between his friend and you, too.

“Y/N?” Jisung asks again, bringing you back to the room.

“Ah, right. I can’t tell because we… we haven’t gone that far yet,” you confess.

A few more rounds follow, most of them being Jisung’s turn because bad luck is on his side tonight but he withstands any embarrassment and drinks from time to time. The one hour they talked about is almost over, until the bottle’s tip points at Minho.

Jisung smirks, his long awaited question already pricking on his tongue, “What’s your favourite position, Min?”

Your enemy chuckles, still entirely sober just like you. However, he’s hypnotised enough by your sole presence, that his gaze locks with your own, when he says, “I like when she’s on top… but I’d say my fave is when she’s on all fours, you know? This way I can thrust into her harder… pull her hair a little… spank her ass.”

The two other men instantly nod, relating in some way or another with what their friend said and you hope they haven’t caught up on the fact of how Minho’s eyes are fixated on yours. That bastard is teasing you again. He’s trying to get a reaction out of you, for whatever reason.

Jisung receives a message from Chan a second later and all three get up, taking care of the mess in the living room.

“We won’t be long, baby,” Felix says, pulling you into a tight hug as if you are an old couple. Minho looks at you confused, jealousy bubbling up in his chest once again although there is seriously no reason. Your best friend and you are like siblings and apart from that, he has a crush on his gym coach. Even though it seems a bit hopeless.

“Take care, yeah?”

A minute later, all three of them exit the apartment and you drop down on the sofa again, waiting for a sign from Minho. Until you hear a sound coming from your phone.

[ Minho ]: I’ll be back in 5 minutes.

Three hundred seconds later—sharp—he rings the doorbell and you let him in. He takes off his shoes and hands you a plastic bag. You take it and peak inside, finding two green cans.

“Grape juice?” you ask.

Minho nods, following you to your room, “Yeah. I thought it suits your earrings, and something non-alcoholic after that weird round of this game is a good idea.”

You ignore the fact that neither Minho nor you were even taking a single sip from the soju earlier, but you try your best to hide the ridiculous smile that’s trying to make it up to your face.

Minho steps inside, having a good overview of the four walls you spend your most time surrounded by. It’s a lot more colourful than his apartment but he thinks it matches you. Flowers over flowers and posters and stickers on the wall, the glittery tapestry shimmering because of the dim LED–lights makes this so cosy, he wants to move in right away.

“I’m glad we could still plan things tonight,” you say, sitting down on your bed and telling him to join you. Minho opens the cans for you, before he hands you one of the grape juices. You take a sip, the sugar instantly filling your whole mouth before you place the metallic object aside.

“Me too.” Because I love spending time with you and tonight just showed me I want you all to myself. “Glad that worked out.”

The conversation dies down at this point, the two of you are just sitting next to one another, before the thoughts are hitting you again. Not just any thoughts and certainly not those confusing ones from earlier but you keep thinking back to what Minho said about his favourite position and what it did to you—or well, to your pussy, to be honest.

And by now you’re convinced he’s a mind reader. He must be. Otherwise, he wouldn’t chuckle, when he asks, “What’s going on in that little distracted head of yours, hm? Hyunjin?”

Why should Hyunjin be on your mind right now? “N-No. Not Hyunjin.”

“That’s good,” Minho says, the tip of his tongue gliding over his upper teeth, “because I should be the only thought inside your head when you’re with me.”

You gulp. Where the hell is this going?

“Because you need to focus, you know,” he quickly adds, covering his own nervousness.

“Is that so?” you ask, cocking your head.

“Hmm, you’re the best student I’ve ever had.”

You giggle, “What? Are you doing this as a side business, hm?”

He ignores your teasing. “Spit it out, Y/N. What’re you thinkin’ about?”

You don’t wanna say it. But you want him to know, if that makes any kind of sense. You’re a bit embarrassed about it, that’s why. When Minho talked about some of the stuff he’s fantasising about or has done with other women in his life so far—making you wonder if some described scenes were about Areum—there wasn’t only a bit of jealousy running through your veins. The most prominent feeling was arousal.

You get that he’s so gentle with you given the fact that he wants you to experience all these steps in a much softer way and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. But the idea of Minho just grabbing you, manhandling you and throwing you around to his liking, using you for his own pleasure while he guides you to another one of those mind-blowing orgasms, might make you forget your own name if you think about it for too long.

So, you gather up all the courage you have and speak. “I… The things you said earlier during the game… about your favourite positions and being rough… I-I kinda…”

He smirks, “You want me to go rougher, baby? Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Minho closes much of the distance between you, crawling towards you, before he’s almost hovering above you.

“I… I liked how you talked about those fantasies…” you confess.

His hand finds your face, grabbing your jaw, “Hm, you did?”

You nod. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Y/N,” he says with the softest voice.

“Have you… have you ever imagined having me in a position… l-like you described?”

You don’t even know where your confidence is coming from but Minho seems to like it.

He chuckles, “Oh, you’d love to know, huh? I have, yeah. I’m not gonna lie to you. But I’ve gotta promise that this still has to wait, yeah?”

“Why?”

“Well, only good girls deserve to get what they ask for and you’re not there yet,” he adds, his tone dropping lower, while his thumb starts caressing your cheek.

You gulp, “I’m… not? I’m a good girl for you, Min.”

He closes his eyes so that you’re not able to see how they roll to the back of his head. Minho can feel his cock twitch inside his pants, growing uncomfortably harder.

“Don’t tease me,” he warns you, looking at you again. “You’re gonna regret this. Otherwise I’m gonna have to put you in your place until you shut that bratty mouth.”

You click your tongue, “You make it sound like a threat…”

And that’s all he needs to make him want to tame the brat that you’re pretending to be just for him. Minho’s lips collide with your skin, roaming over your jawline, neck and wandering even further. He’s fast to sneak his hands under your dress, finding you without tights this time given the warmer weather and the fact you’re at home. In your room. On top of your bed. Minho has desperately tried to not bring you to his own bed these past three nights, knowing damn well his heart wouldn’t survive the smell of you that would still linger on his sheets long after you’re gone, just reminding him that nothing the two of you are doing is even remotely close to being real.

So, he’s been avoiding it. But of course, this strategy doesn’t work when you’re at your place and you’re sharing your apartment with two other guys, one of them temporarily crashing on your couch in the living room. Minho tries his best to push those thoughts aside, his fingers traveling right between your legs which you obediently part for him to give him better access to your very much drenched underwear.

He chuckles, before he pulls the fabric aside. His eyes find your own and when you give him a quick nod, his fingertips slide under the material, finding your clit without hesitation.

“Feels good, Min,” you confess, letting him play with you.

“She can be a good girl after all, hm? So much easier than teasing me, isn’t it?”

You hastily nod again, letting out a moan in agreement. Still, this isn’t enough for him. You won’t get away with it this quickly.

“Then go on, baby. On all fours for me, yeah?”

You gulp but follow suit. You’re a bit confused where this is leading to but you trust him.

“Don’t worry, yeah?” he adds, when he sees the slight worry in your eyes. “One step at a time. I want to touch and taste you, if that’s alright with you.”

You answer by arching your back a bit, leaning forward as your skirt rides up and exposes your soaked underwear. Minho hisses, his tongue wetting his lips before he makes quick work and slides down the ruined fabric. Your pussy looks pretty like this—you look absolutely adorable like this, even better than in all those fantasies he’s had about you, when he touched himself to the thought of you being in a position like this for him only. And now he’s got you right where he wants you.

You spread your legs further, before you feel sweet little kisses erupt on your lower back, before they wander over your ass. Minho’s hand lands between your thighs again, his fingers circling around your glistening entrance. He’s teasing you, just like you did earlier with your words.

“Min, please, n-need them inside of me,” you whine but he’s kind enough to grant you that wish. He pushes one of the digits inside, just like two days ago, thrusting it in and out of you. Your walls immediately start clenching around him, before you tell him to add another one. You’re extraordinarily demanding tonight but he’d do anything for his princess, after all. Yes, correctly. You belong to him. You just don’t know it yet. Although your subconsciousness has already caught up on it by now.

Minho’s fingers are spreading you open and soon two turn into three, as a squelching sound is echoing through the room. It feels so good, you’re already on the verge of tasting the stars in front of your eyes.

Until Minho pulls out of you.

“Why… what?” is all your foggy brain is able to let out, rational thoughts already shut off by now.

“I need a bit more proof of you being a good girl for me, darling,” he says, grabbing you by the hips. “On your back for me. Relax, baby. I’m gonna go easy on you for now.” Minho turns you around as if you weigh nothing, until you land in the position he wants you in.

His hands reach to your inner thighs, before he parts them and those gentle kisses appear on your skin right there. He travels further, dangerously close to your wetness, until his gaze locks with your own once more. “Look at me when you come, you understand?”

You nod, “Yes.”

Minho chuckles, “Yes, what?”

“Y-Yes… sir.”

He dives right in, two of his fingers spreading your pussy lips apart before his tongue collides with your clit. “I’ve always known you’re a quick learner, Y/N.” You arch your back once more, when he starts making out with your sensitive nub, while his fingers are back at your entrance and he slides them inside. He’s scissoring you open by now, his tongue never leaving your clit as if they’re magically connected.

He hums against you heat, “Come on, make that sound again.”

Oh, and you do. Moans, whimpers and groans are filling the room, soon becoming Minho’s favourite melody, that he wants tattooed to his brain so he can play it over and over again like a broken record.

“So good for me, hm? Such a good slut only for me, keep going,” he encourages you, knowing you won’t be able to hold back any longer. His cock twitches inside his pants, when he feels you being the one to grab his hair now, guiding his face the way you seem to enjoy and Minho won’t be complaining. He lets you take the lead a bit, until his fingers change their angle and he’s grazing over that velvety spot inside of you.

A few more thrusts, a few more licks and your high follows. Your eyes stay fixated on his own during the entire time, when you fall apart, legs shaking, creaming all over his face, when that hypnotising feeling takes over you and rushes through your body.

Everything that happens after this is a total blur. Minho takes care of you and cleans you, before he helps you into your pyjamas and puts you into bed. You feel a sweet kiss linger on your forehead before you doze off to sleep.

It’s already the next morning, when you will be reading his message.

[ Minho ]: I’m home. Sweet dreams, Y/N 🖤🍇

Thursday is a lot kinder to you, giving you the opportunity to sleep a little longer since you only have one lecture in the afternoon. You grab a fresh outfit and your towel, as you head to the bathroom wearing your slippers that look like frogs.

Felix is standing in your vision, giving you a soft smile and the look of his disheveled hair tells you he’s as tired as you are.

“Good morning, Y/N, I just wanted to let you know that I washed Hyunjin’s sweater,” he informs you, handing you the fabric.

You hesitantly reach for it, as you ask, “Morning… Hyunjin’s sweater?”

“The dark blue one,” your roommate says, pointing at it with his index finger. Right. You lied and told him you received this piece of clothing from your crush.

“O-Oh, right, yeah. The midnight blue one, yes,” you reply, awkwardly nodding and smiling. You take a few steps forward, making your way to the bathroom until Felix speaks again and you let the pile of clothes drop down to the floor.

“You can stop lying now, by the way.”

“W-What?”

“I really thought we were friends, you know,” Felix says, his jaw clenched. You turn around and look at him, finding his arms crossed in front of his chest and despite the distance of two meters between you, you can clearly observe the hurt in his eyes.

“Lix, I can’t follow,” you stammer out.

He scoffs, “I am sure you can. Why the fuck are you wearing Minho’s sweater? Why did I see his shoes in the hallway last night and hear someone leaving the apartment later? Have you been sneaking out to meet him? Is this why he got so jealous last night when we were playing the drinking game?”

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” you answer.

“Oh, you sure know,” your best friend adds, taking a few steps towards you. “I didn’t expect this from you, seriously, cheating on Hyunjin like this…”

“Lix—wait, I can explain, it’s seriously not what it looks like,” you interrupt him, sounding like the biggest cliché ever.

“Then tell me, I’m all ears,” he says.

“Okay, first of all, Hyunjin and I aren’t a couple. He asked me to take things slowly because he’s in a lot of stress and with it being the last semester and shit… you know how he is when he’s dating. He… he’s never dated just one girl at a time, right?”

“Oh, so you drop low to his level?”

“I am not. Because there’s nothing between Minho and me except some physical stuff… he… he gives me practical advice regarding, you know, sex,” you cringe when you explain what’s been going on these past days, feeling embarrassed about yourself. Although you don’t regret it. Not when Minho is so gentle yet passionate with you, granting you the best time of your life.

“Is he your tutor or something?”

You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, something like that. We… we haven’t slept together but did a bunch of other stuff because I am super inexperienced and insecure that Hyunjin might be… disappointed once we get closer and–“

“I can’t believe he took advantage of you like that,” Felix cuts you off, “I’m gonna find Minho and talk to him–“

“What?”

“Yeah, sleeping with a girl who’s insecure.” Thank you Felix, how about you dig the knife into the wound a little deeper, hm? “I can’t believe this. How could he do this to you and take advantage of your fragile state like this?”

Oh, God, your roommate has understood this all wrong. This is a disaster.

“It’s not… no. He offered it but I came to him and asked him. It was my decision, Lix. He didn’t do anything wrong, seriously. And I am happy with what we have and what we do,” you confess, immediately regretting your choice of words for that last sentence.

And then there’s a smirk on Felix’s lips as well as some imaginary lightbulb that’s appearing over his head.

“Because you are falling in love with him,” he says, clicking his tongue.

You scoff, “I am not. I’m only like Hyunjin and you know that.” You can’t believe he would actually think that. You hate when Felix teases you like this.

“What does Hyunjin say about it then?”

“He obviously doesn’t know,” you admit.

“Great.”

You tilt your head, “Oh, so you wanna tell me that his last girlfriend knew that he was dating other women while they weren’t official yet?”

“No offense at my friends but you kinda have a weird taste in men now that I think about it,” Felix adds with a smile. The atmosphere suddenly becomes less tense when you see him chuckle and you join with your own laughter. You’re kind of glad how he reacted, how he was ready to defend you. Your roommate truly is the best friend you could ever have.

Still, this doesn’t give him the right to suspect you having a crush on his other friend too.

“Thank you. I know. But I don’t like Minho. Not all all,” you insist.

“Keep believing that,” Felix adds, giving you a wink.

You roll your eyes. Then you reach for the lump of clothes that fell to the ground and pick them up, right before you are ready to disappear inside the bathroom.

“Y/N?”

You turn around one more time, looking at your roommate although you’d really like to shower first and then continue with the conversation once you’re a little more awake. “What is it?”

“No matter what I think about all this, your secret is safe with me, okay?”

You smile at him. “Thank you.”

“Although next time I’d be very grateful if you told me about it,” he confesses.

“I’m sorry, Lix. I was embarrassed and all,” you explain.

“I understand. But I love you, yeah?”

You get inside the bathroom and before closing the door you reply, “I love you too.”

592 notes · View notes

leeminho-hall · 2 months

Text

Addicted to you - Chp.12

Pairing: Minchan (mention of Changlix | mention of OT8)

Word Count: 5121

Summary: After weeks of pushing himself beyond his limits Minho's body gives up and he collapses during their live performance. It's Chan who's by his side when he does and also when he wakes up again...

Warnings/Tags: angst, collapsing, hospital, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

A/N: I hope you enjoy it😊

Chp. 11 | Chp. 13

I feel a little nauseous and my hands are shaking I guess that means you're close by My throat is getting dry and my heart is racing I haven't been by your side in a minute, but I think about it What A Time - Niall Horan & Julia Michaels

The morning before their live performance on TV, Minho woke up feeling incredibly sick. He barely made it out of bed, and even a cold shower couldn’t help him wake up. He was mentally and physically drained, his body ached all over, and he became more nervous about his health because of the performance scheduled later. Minho sat down shakily at the edge of his bed and wrapped his arms around himself, taking deep breaths.

Jisung came to wake everyone up for the day, and seeing Minho, he knew something was very wrong. "Minho hyung?" he asked softly and sat down next to him.

"I'm okay," he lied, smiling bravely.

“Are you joining us for breakfast?" he asked nervously.

"No," Minho shook his head firmly.

"Hyung," Jisung sighed. "We have a performance later, you can't be serious. You have to eat something."

"I know we are," he groaned softly.

"What's going on? Everyone's waiting for you two and -," Chan stopped, seeing Minho. "Min?"

"I'm fine," he said and mentally cursed himself for not locking his door this morning.

"You don't look fine," Chan shook his head.

"Then stop looking," he mocked him, and Chan snorted softly.

Chan came over and crouched down in front of him, trying to make eye contact. "Min, come on, let me help," he said and gently rubbed his thighs. Minho shook his head stubbornly and bit back a groan as his stomach cramped up painfully. "You want some breakfast?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Why?" Chan asked gently, trying to tear down his walls.

"Hurts," he just mumbled.

"Your stomach hurts?" Chan asked, and Minho nodded. "When did you last eat?"

Minho looked at him guiltily for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know."

Chan hummed and searched his eyes. "Then we both know that's why you're feeling sick. You have no nutrients in your body."

Minho chewed on his lower lip. "But I'll just throw up again."

"We'll start out with something small and easy. Not eating at all isn't the solution, you know. It’ll just make you feel worse." he told him.

Jisung could practically see Minho's resistance crumbling. He was glad it was Chan who came to get them, because at times like this only he seemed to get through to Minho. He looked down as their hands found each other, fingers intertwining and Chan gently fondled his knuckles. Jisung watched them quietly as Chan spoke softly to Minho and wondered once more where that had gone wrong that evening. These two just seemed to fit together so well that it had made no sense to him. Just as Chan said during an interview, they kept on finding each other no matter what. When Minho weakly leaned his forehead against Chan's he quietly got up and left to give them some space.

The door closed and Minho closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"It's okay," Chan told him.

"No, it really isn't. I promise if I survive today I'll start working on this," he told him tiredly.

"Stop talking bullshit," Chan said and reached up to cup his cheeks. "Of course, you'll survive today."

Minho smiled weakly and leaned into his touch. "I'll try my best."

"Do you need help with getting breakfast?" he asked gently.

"I think I do," he nodded timidly.

"Can I? Or do you want someone else to?" he asked and soothingly fondled his cheeks.

Minho covered his hands with his own. "I really don't want to make this a thing in front of the kids. It's bad enough that Lixie and Hannie already know."

"I'll do it then," he nodded and planted a tiny kiss on his forehead. "We'll get you through this."

"I think I should call mum tomorrow," he told him.

"I bet she'd be thrilled to hear from you," he nodded, agreeing.

"Channie?" he asked softly.

"Yeah?"

"If you don't back up now, I might end up kissing you," he admitted timidly and Chan didn't know where to look, a light blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Sorry," he chuckled and tried pulling his hands away. But Minho kept them in place. "Min?"

"You're warm, that's nice," he told him softly. "I miss you holding me like that."

Chan stared at him for a moment before connecting their lips into a sweet, gentle kiss. Minho whimpered softly against his lips in surprise and kissed back, attempting to deepen it. Chan pulled back, blushing heavily and lowering his gaze. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

Minho blinked softly. "It's not like I minded." He spoke softly, secretly wanting him to continue.

"We've decided to give each other space and time. You're vulnerable right now. And I won't use that against you," Chan told him gently and chewed on his lower lip.

"Yeah, okay," Minho nodded, looking away from him awkwardly. He understood where he was coming from. But god, did he miss feeling his warmth.

Chan turned his face back to him and gave him another short, very gentle kiss. "I didn't mind either, I just don't want you to get hurt. One thing at a time."

Minho nodded, giving him a brave smile. "You should go and eat something, Channie. We can handle this here later."

"You're sure?" he asked, and Minho nodded.

Chan noticed once more how much of a shadow of himself Minho was right before their performance. His hair was a bit of a mess. The dark patches beneath his eyes were a clear sign of how exhausted he was. He was awfully pale and quiet and, to the trained eye, it seemed like he lost quite a bit of weight.

Minho stood in a corner, mindlessly fumbling with the belt around his shirt, and stared into the distance. He changed his position a little and flinched when all his weight was on his injured knee. He tried to blend out the constant painful pulsing in his already heavily bruised and swollen knee. It surprised him that he was still able to walk this long. Minho didn't look in the mirror once as his makeup was applied, unable to stand the sight of his physical presence. He fidgeted with his outfit once more as he dragged himself up the stairs on stage and flinched when he felt Chan's hand on his lower back.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Chan asked him quietly. Although this was a major performance for the group, Minho’s health was most important.

"I have to be," Minho shrugged and took a deep breath. Chan pressed a subtle kiss on his temple, soothingly squeezing his hip. Just this one performance, then he could rest.

Their name was announced, and the music started, all of them taking their places on stage. Minho gave it his all, knowing he had to deliver. He was the main dancer, this was literally his job. And yet, still, he’s struggled so much with it lately. Halfway through their intense choreo, he started to get dizzy. His vision got blurry, and he felt awfully sick. After one particular jump he almost stumbled if Felix hadn't been there, grabbing his arm and steadying him enough to keep going. He found himself next to Chan during a short dance break and covered his microphone for a moment. "I'm gonna throw up."

"Right now?" Chan asked worriedly, watching as Minho started shaking visibly.

"If I don't pass out beforehand, yes," Minho told him and contorted his face. He took deep breaths to try and even his heart rate.

"Go take a break, right now," Chan urged him, and Minho began to consider his words. But Minho knew he was up next to sing.

"They'd kill me," he said before making his way to the center of the stage, smiling brightly.

He somehow managed to sing his part before his world started spinning and his knees gave out. Minho crashed onto the stage face forward, unable to catch himself, and met the ground with a pained moan. Chan was next to him within seconds, turning him onto his back as he was too weak to push himself up. He rested his head in his lap and looked down at him as the rest gathered around them to cover them from the cameras. "Minho?" he asked worriedly.

"I feel sick," he groaned weakly and squinted his eyes, seeing Chan double by now. A nasty ringing tone sang in his ears, and black dots started clouding his vision.

"Minho, love, look at me," Chan tried and patted his cheek, but all he got in response was a weak moan.

"Channie, stop," he groaned softly as the older slapped him gently. Minho closed his eyes as the exhaustion began to creep in. He was just so tired.

"Minho, hey, stay with me," Chan said and looked up. "Fucks sake, call an ambulance!" he snapped at their manager backstage. He didn't care that his microphone was still on. All he could focus on was Minho growing unconscious. His heart was racing, and he felt like throwing up himself. This was his fault. He got up, lifted him bridal style, and carried him backstage. Minho's head fell against his chest, whimpering softly as he tried to stay conscious.

Once they were backstage, Felix quickly removed Minho's microphone, making sure he was resting comfortably in Chan’s arms, who sat down with him. Changbin helped Chan with his and sent Seungmin to get a cold towel.

Minho pressed his eyes closed, hand against his stomach, and doubled over in pain slightly. He felt like throwing up, but he knew there wasn't anything left. He could feel his body shutting down slowly, and it scared the hell out of him. Something cold against his neck made him flinch, someone mumbled an apology. Minho suddenly found himself being lifted up again and groaned in pain as his knee protested against the movement. "Channie?" he asked weakly once his brain registered the absence of his comforting warmth and familiar scent.

Someone took his hand. "I'm here, Min."

Chan.

Then everything went dark.

Minho woke up groaning softly and squinted his eyes at the bright light in the room. He looked to his left and saw a monitor with his steady heartbeat on it. Glancing down he realized he was connected to an IV and things slowly started to come back to him. He turned his head and met a pair of dark brown eyes he knew all too well. Minho immediately lowered his gaze and stared at his blanket realizing he must've collapsed and ended up in hospital. He could practically feel Chan's eyes burning holes into him.

Chan stared at him, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he tried to figure out who'd talk first. He leaned forward and cleared his throat. "When exactly did you last eat?"

"Hi, welcome back, Minho. How are you feeling? Oh, I feel like shit, Chan, thanks for asking," Minho snapped and shot him a glare. Chan remained silent, simply looking at him. Minho sighed and looked away from his gaze. "Sometime before the performance."

"Don't lie to me," Chan shook his head. "You didn't eat anything after I left, did you?"

"If you know already, why the fuck are you asking?" he asked impatiently. Irritation quickly began bubbling in his blood.

"I'm curious if you even know yourself," he told him.

"I don't know, alright? You happy now?" he groaned and glanced at the IV. "Can I leave now? I'll write up some dumbass apology for performing sick or something like that."

"You won't do anything. You collapsed two days ago, and everything has been taken care of for you," he said, and Minho's head flew around.

"What?" he asked shocked. Two days ago?

Chan contorted his face, pained at the following words ready to leave his lips. "I'm also here to tell you that you're on a break. A month at least. You're going home, and your mum has been filled in."

"Chan," he protested.

"No, Minho. There's nothing you can do about it. You clearly don't know your limits, and I can't risk losing our main dancer because of that," he explained and was barely able to look at him. "I told you to get off stage."

"You can't be serious. That's not your decision to make!" he protested.

"It wasn't. It was Felix," Chan told him, and Minho's face fell. "He's worried about you, all of them are. It was his idea, we took a vote, and we all agreed you need some time off."

Minho's eyes filled with tears, and this time he was too tired to hold them back. "You can't just push me away," he tried weakly. "I wanted to leave and you didn't let me."

"No one is pushing you away. Minho, you need time to take care of yourself. You collapsed live on TV in front of I don't know how many viewers. People are worried about you! Your friends are concerned about your mental and physical well being…you scared me," he told him.

"Please don't do this," he pressed out as tears started making their way down his face. "Just back off, all of you," he whimpered and hugged himself tightly. "You can't take away that one thing I'm good at, Chan. I won't let you."

"Take that break, Min. Then you're welcome to join us at the house again," Chan said quietly as Minho started crying audibly. "Felix just arrived, he'll be in soon, okay?" He felt awful seeing him like that, but it was for the best. Any other time, he would've hugged him, told him everything would be okay, and that they'd pull through. Now, he was too scared to overstep a boundary, even to take a step closer to him. "I-I thought that's what you wanted?"

"You told me we'd work this out, and you'd help me, which is why I stayed," he sniffled and stared out of the window. "You lied again?"

"I…Min, you clearly need that time and space more than I do. You have a lot to work on, and I'm not sure if I'm the one you need right now," he tried weakly.

"So you are pushing me away because it's easier not to deal with the damage and take me back once I'm back to my old self," he said, staring at Chan. "How is that fair?"

"I'm not pushing -," Chan started, but Minho cut him off.

"I was there for you, Chan! When you felt like everyone would be better off without you. I was there every step of the way. You tried pushing me away then, and you're doing it again now," he said, clearly hurt.

"You being at home doesn't mean I can't be there for you. We have a phone for a reason, Min. I have no issue with driving to your parents' place regularly either," he said. "I'm not pushing you away. This is me trying to help you recover."

"Leave me alone," he said.

Chan didn't move and contorted his face. "Don't do this."

"Please, Channie."

Chan swallowed hard but did as he said and opened the door for Felix, who rushed to Minho's side.

"Minho hyung, you're finally awake!" he said relieved, and stopped in front of his bed, slipping out of his sneakers.

Minho looked up at him with teary eyes and suddenly forgot about his promise to himself never to let his younger members see him in such a way. He messed that one up with Felix a while ago, after all. He reached out for him and held back a sob. "Lixie," was all he was able to say before the younger climbed underneath the blanket next to him and wrapped him in a warm hug.

Felix's heart was racing seeing his friend like this, but he did his best to hide it. This wasn't about him. "I was so worried," he admitted as he hugged him close and soothingly rubbed his back.

"I'm so sorry," Minho apologized sincerely before burying his face in his chest.

"Don't be, it's okay," Felix promised softly.

Chan watched them for a moment and swallowed hard, realizing his spot in Minho's life was partly taken. He had been the only one Minho let his guard down around, the only one he felt okay with to cry in front of. Chan was glad that he felt comfortable enough around Felix to do so instead of trying to hold it all in. On the other hand, it only showed him how much he fucked up. He quietly left the room and hoped Felix would be able to help.

Chan fought back tears, slowly realizing how bad things were and how much Minho had actually been hurting. Nevertheless, he had been there for him, trying to make him feel better when he was having a shitty time. He once again put himself second. Looking up, he noticed Changbin walking towards him, who had been accompanying Felix to the hospital. His friend pulled him into a strong hug and gently patted his back. "Didn't take it that well?" All Chan could do was nod. "He'll understand why we decided to do this, in the long run."

"He feels like I'm pushing him away," Chan told him. "I'm just trying to give him the time and rest he deserves," he said weakly, his eyes filled with tears.

"I could've told him," he said gently. "I told you that repeatedly."

"No, he's mad at me anyway, it's better that way," he sniffled.

"All of us would be if the rest of the group made such a heavy decision. This isn't about you, Chan," he assured him and rubbed his back. "He'll understand. Deep down a break is all he wanted."

Once Minho had calmed down again, Felix started talking again. "He told you about the planned break?"

"Yeah," he responded quietly, not daring to meet his gaze.

Felix lovingly played with his hair. "I'm sorry I suggested it. But I felt like I couldn't get through to you anymore and now we had a profound reason for you. The doctors told us you haven't been eating for at least two days, which was the main reason you collapsed. They also said your body showed symptoms of severe lack of sleep and exhaustion. Also…they said if you don't take a break from dancing and exercising right now, you might not be able to perform ever again."

Minho shivered softly at the last part and closed his eyes in defeat. "It's okay, Felix, I would've done the same. It's what I wanted in the first place, just not like this."

"I called your mum to settle everything. She knows you're supposed to rest and be careful with your knee. I told her you had a massive fight with one of the members, and it's taking a toll on you, combined with your injury and busy schedule. I didn't feel like it's my place to go into too much detail," he told him and swallowed hard before the next part. "I also told her you had trouble eating due to all that, so she knows to start out patiently and light regarding the food."

Minho hummed softly, it made sense that she knew. "Okay."

"I already packed your stuff and bought the tickets. You'll leave the hospital in two days, and we'll take a train in the afternoon," he explained.

"We?" he frowned up at him in confusion.

"There's no way I'm letting you travel alone. I'll accompany you back home," he told him, and Minho smiled a little, squeezing him softly.

"You shouldn't have," he said gently.

"I wanted to," he assured him.

Minho remained quiet for a while before speaking up gently again. "How are the others?"

"Jisung is worried, so he was the one who proposed a break to me. Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin have been avoiding any rumors during their interviews yesterday and made sure to tell everyone you're injured and overworked. Changbinnie..has been taking care of everyone but especially Chan," he hesitated a little at the end. "Chan is blaming himself for what happened and hasn't left your bedside since you got here. He wanted to be the one breaking the news to you and see you before you leave."

"I don't get it," Minho said honestly. "He pushes me away, denies everything in front of you all, and talks shit to save himself. The next day, he acts like he cares and even seemed like he wanted to kiss me at some point, which is why I told him to back off in the first place. It confused me, and I didn't want to just forgive him and move on like nothing happened. Then he felt like shit, and out of everyone, he ended up in front of my door. Now he's pushing me away again."

Felix hummed, agreeing, and frowned a little. "I think we all know he didn't mean what he said…but now that you two keep your distance, he keeps up that act. I don't know if that's because he wants the rest to see you have every reason to be upset. But deep down, he still cares about you a lot, he tries to respect your boundaries and acts like an asshole to do so. Maybe you two can talk again when you get back from your break?"

"Even if he apologizes again, even if he tells me he didn't mean it…how am I supposed to trust him? He promised me heaven and earth Felix. As soon as one of our closest friends asks about us, he freaks out. I believed him when he told me all those sweet things…I also believed him when he snapped that evening. I want to believe in what he said a few nights ago. How do I know what's truly going on in his head?" Minho explained tiredly. "And how often would he deny what's between us before finally standing up for it?"

Felix nodded and mindlessly played with Minho's hair. "I wish I could answer that…but I don't think I'd feel or think much differently if it had been Changbinnie pulling this shit."

"He was the one person I truly trusted with everything. Now I can't stand being in the same room with him," he groaned at himself. "I keep snapping at him, even if he just asks me something or wants to make sure I'm okay. Or when he pulls me in, and my brain stops like nothing ever happened. We kissed again before the performance, and he stopped, saying I'm vulnerable, and he doesn't want to use that."

"Give yourself some time. Maybe those few weeks away from him will do you good," Felix tried. "Everyone back home understands why you're feeling this way. If Chan hadn't thought about leaving…I don't think everyone would be so nice to him right now. We all try to support you both and give each of you enough time to figure things out." Minho sighed softly, and Felix thought for a moment before speaking up again. "Chan started arguing with two of our staff members, saying no one can accompany you. It was quite intense. Chan was really pissed off and told them he wouldn't do a thing until he saw you."

"What?" Minho asked, shocked.

"They allowed us to come in pairs, so he took me with him, and he seemed completely calm...but when we got here, he had a panic attack because he feels responsible. He knew he fucked up that night, and he knew he made it worse by letting you go on with your destructive behavior."

"He had another panic attack?" he asked, getting a little worried.

"It was quite…intense," he nodded. "A nurse gave him something to calm him down a little."

"You think I should try calling him while I'm away? Maybe not seeing him will help me stay calm," he thought out loud, and Felix smiled a little.

"If it feels right, I think that's a great idea," he agreed, gently rubbing his shoulder.

They remained silent for another while before Minho spoke up again, thinking about their live performance. "How bad did it look?"

Felix seemed to understand rather quickly. "We looked at certain camera angles to decide how to contain the damage," he chuckled. "You look like shit right before you fall, and it's a surprise you're still conscious after dropping on the floor. But besides your fall, you don't see much because Chan got to you so quickly, and we all blocked the view."

"Do you have your phone with you?" he asked, and Felix nodded, handing it to him. Minho searched for the video and sucked in a sharp breath seeing himself. "You're right, I do look like shit," he laughed and rubbed his face. "I have no idea how I managed to pull through up to that point."

"Me neither," Felix chuckled. "It's a surprise your face didn't bruise."

"I think I kind of landed on my arm because I didn't feel any pain in my face hitting the ground," he told him before handing his phone back. "One way to start your vacation."

"Idiot," he laughed.

"Oh, and by the way, Chan calling you love made the news, combined with you collapsing," Felix told him.

"I told him so often to take the damn mic off when things get personal," Minho groaned.

"Yeah, well, Chan will have to come up with something for that if someone asks," he shrugged.

Two days later, Minho sat on the sofa back at the house and scrolled through his phone, waiting for Felix. They'd be leaving soon, and Felix confined Min to the sofa, not allowing him to walk upstairs and get his suitcase. He sighed softly and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Somehow, he was glad to go home for a while, see his mum, and take care of his cats. Nevertheless, he'd miss his second family and his work. The front door suddenly opened, and Jisung, Changbin, and Chan wandered inside. The two younger ones spotted him immediately and rushed over excitedly. "Minho hyung!" Jisung cheered and gave him a tight hug.

Minho chuckled softly and returned the hug, only to gasp for air as Changbin wrapped his arms around both of them. "Help," he pressed out jokingly. He didn't get much of a break as Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin stepped inside a few seconds later, rushing over to hug him as well. Minho sighed softly but let them continue knowing they were simply worried. He giggled as they all gathered on the sofa around him, finally letting go of him again. Looking up, he met Chan's eyes, who was leaning against the kitchen island a little further away from them. A small smile rested on his lips, watching the kids gathering around Minho excitedly. Minho bit back a sigh and signaled him to take a seat as well with his eyes before focusing back on Jisung, asking him how he was. Not much later, Felix was back downstairs with Minho's suitcase and a small backpack for himself. "Minho hyung, let's go."

Minho pushed himself up, squinting his eyes as black dots danced in front of his eyes. He cursed quietly to himself and let Seungmin hold him for a moment before exhaling softly. "Alright then, let's get this over with," he sighed, playfully annoyed and opened his arms. The others laughed at him before all walking up to him and giving him a hug goodbye. Chan stayed in his seat, watching them quietly before meeting Minho's eyes again. "Come here," Minho said gently.

"What?" he asked stunned.

"I won't offer again. Come here and get your hug goodbye, or I'll leave without it," Minho said impatiently, and Chan got up a little confused.

"Are you su-?"

"Oh, for fucks sake, Channie," he groaned and pulled him into a hug. Chan stiffened in his hold for a moment before wrapping his arms around him and hugging him back. Minho met Felix's eyes over Chan's shoulder before glancing at the other members. He could see how clearly they appreciated that small gesture of him. "I know I fucked up, it won't happen again," he told him quietly.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Chan asked quietly enough, only for him to hear.

Minho swallowed hard before nodding. "Take care of the kids while I'm gone, alright?" he asked just as quietly.

"Always," he promised and squeezed him gently.

Minho stayed in his arms for another moment, indulging that familiar feeling and warmth. He was holding onto him more tightly than he did the rest and buried his face in his shoulder. "I really don't want to go anymore," he whispered.

Chan tightened his hold on him. "I'm only a call away," he promised. "No matter what time."

"I'm sorry for snapping at you at the hospital," he told him quietly.

"I know. You were feeling like shit, I kinda made it worse," he chuckled and very gently kissed his hair.

He fought with himself for a moment before patting Chan's back, signaling he had to leave. He looked up and met his eyes, noticing a suspicious shimmer in Chan's eyes. "I'll slap you if you start crying after sending me into exile," he threatened jokingly, loud enough for everyone to hear. The others giggled softly.

"You know I hate goodbyes," he told him, chuckling.

"I know," Minho said before rolling his eyes, cupping his face, and kissing his forehead. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't," he promised and searched his eyes. Seeing the fear in them, he didn't think much and gave himself a push. Chan leaned close and captured his lips in a kiss.

Minho kissed back, a little surprised, before pulling back and searching his eyes for clarity. Did he just kiss him…in front of their friends?

"I love you, okay?" he said softly, and Minho's eyes filled with tears hearing those three words, with meaning, for the first time. "Hey, we said no crying," he protested.

Minho gently shoved his chest. "Fuck you."

"Not the answer I was expecting, but fine," he giggled, and was cut off by Minho giving him a short, but sweet kiss.

"I love you too," he smiled shyly. "I'll call you," he said, and it sounded more like a question.

Chan searched his eyes for a moment before nodding. "Okay, sure thing," he said gently. "Just let me know when so I'll make some time."

"Alright," Minho nodded before finally stepping back and inhaling softly. "Kids behave, alright?" he asked all of them and smiled softly as they chuckled at him.

Chp. 11 | Chp. 13

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/ removed from the taglist)

@soullostinspaceandtime @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni @aaasia111 @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @galaxycatdrawz

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leeminho-hall · 2 months

Text

Addicted to you - Chp.11

Pairing: Minchan (mention of Changlix | mention of OT8)

Word Count: 6561

Summary: Staying together for the night, Minho and Chan have trouble fighting against what they both long for deep down. Making out in the kitchen, they get caught by Felix, who isn't very amused. Both Chan and Minho try and figure out how things will develop from here on.

Warnings/Tags: cuddles, fluff, angst, yearning (?)

A/N: I hope you enjoy it😊

Chp. 10 | Chp. 12

Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay, but if I woke up with you in the morning I'd forget all the ways that we're broken Stay ~ Gracie Abrams

They stayed in each other's arms for a very long time, not talking much but simply holding on for dear life. Minho was mindlessly rubbing Chan's back as Chan played with his hair. Minho pulled back first, reaching for the tissues on his nightstand, and handed Chan some as well.

They both blew their nose and wiped their cheeks before Minho slowly slipped from his lap. "We should probably go and warm up that stupid tea," he said raspily.

"Probably," Chan nodded, getting up as well.

Minho grabbed his cup, took Chan's hand, and walked downstairs with him. They put their cups into the microwave, and Chan leaned against the counter whilst Minho leaned against the kitchen island opposite of him. Somehow, their hands found each other again, and their bodies seemed to inch closer as they lost each other in their eyes.

"Min, we shouldn't -," Chan started, already leaning forward.

"We really shouldn't," Minho agreed, not resisting the invisible pull that’s guiding him towards the man.

Chan's lips brushed against Minho's before he knew it. "Tell me to stop," he whispered.

"I don't want to," Minho whispered back right before their lips crashed against each other. Minho's hand sank into Chan's curls, pulling him in deeper. Chan wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close against his body, kissing him heavily. Their kisses grew passionate, and Minho stumbled back, reaching for the kitchen island to brace himself. Chan pressed him up against it and moaned softly as Minho reached down to squeeze his ass. The microwave interrupted them, and Minho pulled back with a groan, slipping from his arms to turn it off. Chan stepped behind him, pulled him flush against his body, and kissed the back of his neck. "Fuck," Minho whispered and reached back, tangling his hand in his hair. He pressed back against him as Chan's hand slipped beneath his shirt.

"Please tell me to stop," Chan mumbled between the light kisses he placed on his neck.

"Don't stop, please just don’t stop," Minho told him, and his eyes fluttered close as Chan's full lips traveled over his skin. He smiled softly and rested his unoccupied hand on Chan's arm that was wrapped around his waist. A low moan fell from his lips as Chan bit down gently below his ear. Minho felt the familiar rush take over his body and moved without thinking, pressing himself closer. Suddenly, the lights turned on, and they backed away from each other as if touched by fire. "Felix," Minho breathed out in shock.

"You two are fucking ridiculous," Felix said, glaring at them from the stairs. "You've been destroying the whole team spirit for weeks now, making everyone walk on eggshells around you two. We've all been taking care of you because you felt like shit, and now you're making out in the kitchen in the middle of the night?!"

"Felix, lower your voice. The others are sleeping," Chan told him.

"You shut up," he gave back, and Chan raised his eyebrows at him. "What's that about, huh? Do you just think sex will fix this? That's what got you into this mess in the beginning," he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"That's not what's happening her-," Minho tried gently.

"Sure looks like it," he scoffed before looking at Chan. "You're trying to get your toy back for another round?" he asked, and Chan's face fell in shock.

“Felix!” Chan protested, seeing Minho’s eyes begin to tear up at his hurtful words.

“And you're too stupid to believe it's going to be anything beyond that?" he asked Minho, who had been quiet and grown pale.

“I-,” Minho spoke up quietly and shut his mouth seeing Felix shake his head.

"Seriously, you two are -."

"Felix, that's enough," Changbin said, appearing behind him. "You don't know what happened before, you don't even know if they talked or not."

"Oh, so you're supporting the shit they're putting everyone through now?" Felix huffed at him, clearly upset.

"Lix, that's not what I said," Changbin sighed and took his hand. "It's not your decision to make then fix whatever they got going on. Now come on, you’re not making things better by hurting their feelings either."

"I really thought you were smarter than this," Felix told Minho before stomping up the stairs.

"There are people trying to sleep in this house!" Changbin said frustratedly and rolled his eyes at him before looking down at his hyungs. "He's drunk; he didn't mean it," he sighed softly. "Just…fix whatever this is soon, alright?" he asked them, and they nodded gently.

Minho nervously fidgeted with the sleeves of his sweater and turned toward the microwave. He opened it shakily and took out their cups. "Am I?" he asked timidly.

“What?” Chan asked, still in shock about Felix’s outburst.

“A toy? To let off steam when you feel like it?" Minho asked, hand shaking as he put down Chan’s cup on the table.

"I never said anything like that, Min, and I never would," he told him. "That's not how I see you."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay, sorry."

"It's okay," he said gently.

"I uhm…we should probably get some sleep now and then talk again tomorrow," he said.

"Yeah," Chan nodded and carefully reached out for him.

Minho let him cup his cheek and leaned into his touch. "I want to believe in this, Channie. I just need time."

"Yeah, me too," he nodded gently, and Minho turned, kissing his palm.

"You're still welcome to stay for tonight. Then we'll take some time to think," Minho told him, and Chan nodded, agreeing.

"I wouldn't mind the company tonight, to be honest," he admitted, and Minho nodded understandingly.

Not much later, they were sitting opposite each other on the window sill, both sipping their tea and sharing the cookies Minho had brought earlier. They both were wrapped up in a blanket and stared outside, watching the city lights and stars illuminate the night sky. Minho glanced at him, and his breath stopped for a moment. Chan's eyes looked dreamy with the lights reflecting in them. His curls framed his face effortlessly, and his full lips shimmered from the tea. His long lashes threw their shadows on his cheeks, and Minho realized once more why he fell for him in the first place.

Chan felt his eyes resting on him and slowly turned his head, giving him enough time to look away. He didn't. Their eyes met, and Chan searched them observantly, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. "Thank you," he said softly.

"For what exactly?" Minho asked and tilted his head at him.

"For not pushing me away tonight," Chan told him. "I…I really needed you, if that makes any sense."

Minho looked at him quietly before nodding slowly. "I figured. You usually come to find me when you're feeling unwell."

Chan nodded and smiled sadly. "I always did."

"Mhm, you still do, apparently," he hummed.

"Can you promise me something?" Chan asked.

"Depends," Minho told him with a sad smile.

"I want you to come and find me when you're feeling like shit, too, no matter what," Chan told him.

Minho contorted his face for a second. "What if you're the reason?"

"Especially then," he told him quietly. "Especially when I'm the one that hurt you."

"What's that supposed to be good for, huh?" he asked gently. "You'd be punishing yourself seeing that you upset me." Chan's eyes flickered with guilt, and Minho fondly rolled his eyes. "I know you better than you think, dear."

Chan put aside his empty cup and sighed. "I mean it, though, please let me take care of you when you need it."

"Okay," he nodded, gently squeezing his hand. "Promise."

Chan looked down at their hands and saw that Minho had started picking his nails again. His eyes wandered up, taking in his appearance, and suddenly, he noticed how exhausted Minho looked. His hair was a bit of a mess, his face seemed slimmer, and his lower lip was dry, full of bite marks. "How are you doing, seriously?"

"Pretty shitty," he chuckled weakly and mindlessly fondled Chan's knuckles.

"How's your knee?" he asked gently, and Minho pressed his lips together tightly, avoiding his eyes for a moment. Chan knew the worst thing for Minho was him being injured and unable to dance properly. "Hyunjin says you haven't been resting much lately."

"Traitor, I think he misses me feeding him tissues," Minho huffed before closing his eyes. "Gosh, I'm actually awful."

"Stop that," Chan shook his head.

Minho stared at him as if he wanted to remind him it hadn't been that long since he uttered those same words. He shifted a little before rolling his eyes at himself and swallowing his pride. "My knee's completely fucked. I'll have to take a break from dancing for real after our performance in a few days. Everything's fucked up right now. My sleep schedule, my eating habits, my confidence…I haven't talked to mum in two weeks either." Chan listened attentively and looked at him with a mixture of guilt and compassion. "Don't blame yourself for that. The injury is messing with me, our fight was just the cherry on top."

"I'm sure your mum misses hearing from you," he told him gently.

"Probably. I'm just scared I'll get emotional. I usually do with her," he confessed and subconsciously rubbed his injured knee. "She spammed me with messages once that interview went live online."

"Did you answer?" he asked.

"Told her I'm fine and some shit about being sleep-deprived and sick. She didn't buy it, but she never does," he shrugged. "Have you talked to your family lately?"

Chan shook his head. "I still haven't told them about that night I wanted to quit. To be honest, I'm afraid I might slip up. Especially after tonight."

"Why don't you tell them?" he asked. "I'm sure they'll understand."

"My sister would hate me," he shook his head.

"She'd snap at you because she's worried," he reminded him. He knew her quite well by now.

"I know my mum won't stop worrying about me once I tell her," he tried.

"You think we don't?" he asked softly. "You scared me tonight. I can only imagine how the others are feeling."

Chan nodded understanding. "I'm sorry, Min. I promise you, I'm working on it."

"I know you are," he nodded and squeezed his hand before letting go of it again. He shifted a little, adjusting the position of his legs to relieve some of the tension on his knee. Minho felt a little sick from eating those cookies before but chose to ignore it. He glanced at Chan, who shivered a little, growing cold as he got sleepy. Minho gently patted the space between his legs and signaled him to come over.

Chan scooted over, leaning against him and smiling softly as Minho wrapped his arms around him. He looked down as Minho intertwined their hands on his stomach and closed his eyes as he planted a tiny kiss on his hair. After a while, Chan cuddled a little closer, feeling like he'd be asleep soon.

Minho noticed and softly rubbed his arms. "Let's get to bed?"

"Mhm, okay," he mumbled and got up sleepily.

Minho pulled him with him, knowing Chan's brain wasn't functioning once he got ready to fall asleep. He made sure Chan was comfortable and gently played with his hair as he drifted off to sleep. Minho looked at him as he was sleeping and felt tears burning in his eyes. Why couldn't he just erase all the bullshit and get this back? This feeling of safety and trust between them. The feeling like the other one was the only one who truly got them and loved them with all their flaws. He buried his face in his curls and smiled sadly as Chan cuddled closer in his sleep. God, he missed him like hell.

The next morning, when Minho woke up, Chan was already gone. He sighed softly and sat up, noticing that Chan had taken their cups and trash with him and folded his blanket. As if he actually hadn't been here last night. Someone knocked at his door, and he tiredly rubbed his face. "Yes?" He spoke groggily and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, surprised as Felix appeared in his sight, nervously playing with his hands.

"Hey," he said gently.

"Hey," he gave back before sighing softly and patting the mattress.

Felix sat down and contorted his face. It was obvious he was apologetic, but didn’t know where to begin. "I was drunk last night. I wasn't thinking before I spoke."

"Mhm, is that a new habit here? People not thinking before saying mean shit to my face?" he asked quietly, and Felix lowered his gaze guiltily. "Don't get me wrong, I know you mean well. But what you said hurt my feelings."

Felix nodded and chewed on his lower lip. "I'm really sorry for what I said. You're not stupid, and you're not just Chan's toy. I know that he cares about you a lot. You mean even more to him than any of us can imagine," he told him nervously. "It's just…I'm worried about the two of you. You're both a shadow of yourselves, and I -."

"I know it looked weird last night," he sighed softly and patted Felix's knee calmingly. "And I know we've been acting awful lately, so obviously this pisses you off. Sober or not."

"Changbinnie told me about what you told him in the kitchen before. Is he okay?" Felix asked timidly.

Minho shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think I'm in the position to know if he's truly okay."

"Are you?" he asked gently.

"No," he shook his head. "Not at all. Everything's fucked up, and my mixed feelings for Chan are only a part of it. I hurt him, he hurt me, but we both apparently still have some sort of feelings," he explained and rolled his eyes at himself. "I'm trying, Felix, I swear I am. We both agreed on being there for each other, but also agreed to giving each other some space to figure it out."

"Okay," he nodded gently and offered him a hug, which he took. "I just don't want you to get hurt again."

Minho squeezed him softly. "Don't be too hard on him, alright? He's been having a shit time and really misses his little brother." He glanced over at his desk. The letter. "You know there's a letter with your name on it."

Felix frowned softly and got up, searching for the envelope. "What's that all about?"

"Chan told me he wrote a letter about each of you that he wanted to give you when one of you is in a crisis or has a massive fight with him. They were functioning as his goodbye letters later," he said, smiling sadly. "Yesterday, he said I can give you yours."

Felix looked at him, surprised, before taking it. "Should I read it now?"

"You probably want some privacy for that," he told him gently. "We'll talk later?"

"Okay," he nodded before leaving.

Chan tiredly rubbed his neck and cracked his hurting back as he walked back downstairs. He had been to the gym with Changbin and Jisung in the morning, filling them in about last night since they both somehow were part of it. They both seemed relieved to hear that he and Minho were talking and wanted to work things out. It was also nice to have someone to talk about how he was coping with all the mess.

After his shower, he felt like making breakfast, knowing that soon enough, everyone else should be awake. He prepared everything he'd need and was ready to get to work. Footsteps descending towards the kitchen from the stairway caught his attention. His heart stopped seeing Felix come into view, who seemed to be sobbing quietly. "Felix, mate?" he called out hesitantly. Felix came right over and hugged him tightly, burying his face in his chest. Chan immediately wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back. "Hey, what's going on?" he asked gently, surprised that Felix came to him after their exchange yesterday.

"I'm sorry," Felix whimpered.

Chan shook his head and held him tighter. "No, seriously, don't be. It's okay, I know I've been a lot."

Felix pulled back and took something from the pocket of his sweater. "Min gave me this."

Chan took the pieces of paper and recognized his own handwriting. "Oh," he nodded weakly and timidly searched his eyes. So Minho made that decision for him.

Felix was back in his arms before he knew it. "I really love you, Channie."

Chan relaxed and hugged back lovingly. "I love you too, sunshine," he said softly. "I'm really sorry for all the things I said, that wasn't fair. I know how much Min means to you and that you’re just trying to help."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too," he told him. "I really hope you two can work things out. You deserve to be happy, and we’ve all seen how happy you were together."

Chan buried his face in his hair for a moment. "Thank you," he whispered honestly. "We're trying our best."

"I know," he told him and squeezed him tight. "That letter was really sweet."

Chan laughed weakly. "Told you I wouldn't leave you behind, didn't I?" Chan looked up as Minho came down the stairs and mouthed a silent 'thank you'. Minho simply nodded with a small smile, knowing he did the right thing.

Soon, they all gathered downstairs for breakfast, and Minho watched them fondly as he tied his shoes. He grabbed his jacket and pulled up the zipper.

"Aren't you having breakfast with us, hyung?" Seungmin frowned softly.

"Uhm, I have to go on my daily walk. It's fine, I'll eat later," he said and didn't dare to look at Chan, Felix, and Jisung, who all looked at him worriedly.

"Are you sure?" Jeongin asked.

"Very sure," he nodded quickly and went outside.

Chan bit back a sigh and exchanged a look with Felix. "Is he eating at all?" he asked quietly.

"Not really," Jisung shook his head. "It's bad, Chan."

"He told me his sleeping and eating habits are fucked up," he nodded and chewed on his lower lip. "And you haven’t been able to get through to him, huh?"

"I've tried, mate, but he's stubborn," Felix sighed.

Minho returned later when they were all done and exhaled, relieved as the house didn't smell like food anymore. He kicked his shoes off and rubbed his face tiredly. Minho sat down on the closest chair heavily and held his pulsing knee, contorting his face in pain. He didn't dare to look at it, knowing it was bad. The pain didn't help his overall sickness, and he blinked a little, feeling dizzy. He looked up as someone put a glass of juice on the table in front of him.

"You look like you could use some sugar," Chan simply said and patted his shoulder, walking past him.

"Chan?" he spoke up and turned in his chair. "I hope I didn't overstep your boundaries by giving Felix his letter."

Chan shook his head. "I would've given it to him soon anyway."

"Okay," he nodded gently.

"Try and eat a little today, okay?" he asked gently.

"Okay," he nodded, stomach sinking as he knew he probably wouldn't.

Chan turned in his chair, a little bored, as Jisung and Changbin were writing some lyrics at the table behind him. It had been three days since he and Minho agreed to give each other space, and things had grown a little calmer when they were in the same room. Minho still wasn't joining them for dinner or breakfast, and Chan decided not to push him. They had decided together to stop practicing that new dance at the moment since it wasn't really good for his injured knee. He sighed softly and glanced up as the door to the studio opened.

Minho came over and stopped in front of his desk, putting down two pages of paper and a small recording device. "I wrote something, the rough melody is on there. Can you work some magic and turn this into something?"

"Uh, sure thing," Chan nodded and took the paper; looking down, he recognized Minho's handwriting.

"Can I record this soon?" he asked, and Chan blinked at him. "I know we have no intention of publishing solo songs at the moment, but just keep it stored away until then."

"Then what's the rush with recording?" he asked gently, trying to ignore the curious looks of their friends.

"My mood fits the song right now," he simply said, shoving his hands into his pocket. "So?"

"Yeah, okay, sure. I'll let you know when I'm done mixing, you can record it tomorrow."

"Great," Minho nodded before leaving again.

As soon as the door closed, Jisung ripped the paper from Chan's hands and read through the lyrics. His heart grew heavy, and he scratched his neck awkwardly, showing it to Changbin.

"What?" Chan asked, confused.

"You really turned him into a poet by breaking his heart, congrats," Changbin said dryly, not even protesting as Jisung hit him.

“Don’t say that,” he told him with wide eyes.

Chan took the paper back and read through it. He stared at them after he was done and gently put them down on the table before getting up and leaving the room. He jogged down the hallway, spotting Minho in front of the elevator. "Minho, wait."

Minho looked up, surprised. "Why?"

"It's your song. You should be in there finding the right music for it," he told him.

"Since when?" he asked, slight irritation in his tone. Chan knew he wasn’t the best when it came to producing and mixing.

"Since this is clearly about us, and I wouldn't feel comfortable setting the tone for it all by myself," Chan said, and Minho's face fell. "I think it'll be great, but it should be your work."

Minho cleared his throat and gently adjusted his sleeves. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure," he nodded.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Minho nodded gently. "Okay then."

Jisung and Changbin glanced at them as they returned and got comfortable at Chan's desk.

"It's beautiful, hyung," Jisung spoke up.

"No, it's a sad mess," he gave back and rolled his eyes at himself. "Just like myself," he added quietly, but they all heard.

"We love a good mess," Changbin said, and Minho snorted.

"You sure do when it's named Felix," he said, and Changbin's jaw dropped as Jisung started laughing loudly.

Chan glanced at Minho, amused, who had turned around in his chair, grinning at Changbin. "Sorry, I'm tired."

"That was a good one, I'll give you that," Changbin chuckled.

Minho and Chan got to work and soon enough, they had created a wonderful melody. Minho was feeling the music and seemed motivated to work, which Chan silently took note of. "Do you want to record it now?" Chan asked, testing the waters.

"Sure, why not," he nodded and got into the recording booth. Minho warmed up his vocal cords for a few moments before putting on the headphones and reading through it once more.

Jisung's jaw dropped as he started singing softly and reaching higher notes as he went on. Changbin stopped working on his lyrics and watched Minho sing his heart out. They both glanced at Chan, who was watching Minho with a suspicious shimmer in his eyes and a sad, but proud, small smile. He let him go on, seeing his raw emotion go into his passion for music. Chan was amazed, to say the least.

"Fuck, he's good," Jisung nodded stunned.

Once Minho was done with all the different sections, everyone was quiet for a moment, and he hesitantly took off his headphones, looking at their shocked faces. He stepped outside of the booth and frowned. "That bad, huh?" His doubts already jading his mind based on their reactions.

"Quite the opposite, mate," Changbin told him, and Minho visibly relaxed. "Your voice has gotten stronger."

"Thank you," he smiled gently.

"This is going to sound amazing," Jisung nodded eagerly. "But I have a question: why the hell didn’t you finish the song? Clearly, there’s another verse and chorus missing from it."

Minho gave him a thoughtful look. "Because maybe it isn't the end yet," he said and met Chan's eyes, spotting the tears in them. He visibly swallowed and put aside the headphones. "Can I hear it?"

Chan cleared his throat before nodding and pressing play. They all listened quietly as the recording played and began to envision the final product. Minho nodded once it was over, satisfied with the result. Chan spoke up, "What do you want to call it?"

"A slap back into reality. All the times he broke my heart," Minho suggested, clearly joking, and Chan stared at him until Jisung and Changbin started giggling. "Nevermind, just call it Limbo or something like that."

"Okay," Chan nodded and saved the song under the title.

"Great, that's it for me then. Don't stay up too long," he said, walking to the door.

"Minho," Chan stopped him, and the younger one turned back. "You did well," he complimented him gently.

"Thanks, Chan," he nodded softly before leaving.

"Let me hear it again?" Jisung asked.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee, have at it," Chan told him, unsure if he could listen to it again without feeling the true weight of them. Those lyrics and Minho's beautiful voice hit too close to home. He closed the door to his studio and took a deep breath, slowly walking toward the awaiting coffee machine.

"Chan hyung, wait," Jisung suddenly called out and caught up with him quickly. "Are you okay?" he asked very gently.

Chan pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head, tears brimming his eyes. "No," he whispered.

Jisung flashed him a compassionate smile. "Cuddles?" he offered, opening his arms for him.

Chan laughed weakly, a single tear dropping down his cheek. "I miss him," he admitted and let his friend pull him into a tight hug.

"He misses you too, Channie," Jisung assured him. After all, he knew just how much Minho loves Chan.

"You think so?" Chan asked, burying his face in his shoulder.

He gently rubbed his back, humming agreeingly. "I know so. I know he's not easy to talk to at the moment but that's because he's hurt and caught up in his own insecurities. When he snaps at you or is vulnerable around you, he means well. You mean the world to him but he’s in his head right now. He wants to fix this. He's just so deep in his own mess that it gets hard to focus on the noise." He sighed softly and leaned his head against Chan's. "Taking care of you a few nights ago and that song are proof enough that he hasn't given up on you yet. Just try to stay calm the next time his emotions get the better of him. He needs you to hold his hand on the way out of this mess. He just doesn't know it yet."

"Thanks, Hannie," Chan whispered and squeezed him tight.

They were currently practicing for their performance in a few days, and Minho's patience was very thin today. It didn't bother him that they made mistakes. He was in massive pain; his whole body screamed at him to take a break, and he longed to finally be done with this. "Felix, please," he groaned softly, and his friend looked at him with wide eyes.

"Sorry," he quickly apologized and tried to focus really hard.

"Jeongin, for fucks sake, not again," Minho said only moments later as he messed up the same step for the fifth time.

"I'm sorry, hyung, I'll do better," their maknae apologized timidly.

"Minho, how about we all take a break? Just to give everyone a chance to breathe and get centered. We can continue in a moment," Chan proposed from the back of the room, seeing the stress lacing his whole body. Minho met his eyes through the mirror, not responding but simply staring at him. "Be back in ten minutes everyone, okay?" he told the rest, watching Minho worriedly as the younger one huffed, clearly frustrated. He took a deep breathe and walked over to him. "Min."

"What?!" he snapped. "You got your break, I didn't disagree. What do you want?"

Chan searched his eyes. "You look like shit."

"Great, another thing I can add to the list of insulting things you've said to me in the last few weeks," Minho nodded, pressing his lips together tightly.

"What I mean is you're clearly not up for this. Take a fucking break for once and let me handle this," he sighed.

"You keep messing the steps up yourself, Chan. How's that supposed to work?" Minho asked defensively. "If you want this to work on live TV in a few days, you have to let me fix it now."

"No one here has to be fixed, Min. It's a dance like any other. We'll be fine," he said patiently and hesitantly brushed his fingertips over the back of Minho's hand.

Minho closed his eyes and shook his head. "Don't do that," he whispered.

"Why?" Chan asked. "Because it's comforting? Because it calms you down?"

"Because it hurts," he told him and opened his eyes again. "It shows me what I can't have right now."

"Hey, we're a team, okay? We're leading these kids together, so would you take my hand for once when I offer it?" he asked. "There's no other intention behind it."

After slight contemplation, Minho's hand found his grasp seconds later. "I'm so fucking tired, Chan," he whispered so only he could hear. "I can't do this."

"I know," he nodded and gently squeezed his hand. "I'm here, you don't have to do this on your own."

"Two more times, okay? Then I'll give up for today," he sighed, and Chan nodded.

"Okay."

They got back to work after that, and everyone seemed so anxious to mess up and upset Minho that it only led to more mistakes. Minho tried to stay calm, knowing it wasn't their fault he was being hard on them. He just needed to be more patient.

Minho moved to the front, realizing too late that Seungmin had once again moved to the wrong side. Minho stumbled over his foot and crashed down on the floor, barely catching himself on his hands. His injured knee hit the floor full force, and he retched at the impact, the pain shooting through his body instantly. Minho slammed his hand onto the floor "Fuck!" he shouted and tried to get up, whimpering at the pain slowly taking over his body. Hot tears shot to his eyes, and he barely noticed Seungmin apologizing anxiously. He buried his face in his arm with a low groan, wishing nothing more than to disappear. He coughed softly and tried not to throw up on the floor.

Chan's heart raced as he sat down beside him, quietly telling the others to give them the room and calling it quits for the day. He soothingly rubbed his lower back and leaned down to him. "Min?" he asked softly, and Minho only whimpered in response. "Hey," he tried gently as Minho's body shook with a violent sob and pulled him up against his own body.

Minho buried his face in his chest and broke down. "It hurts," he sobbed, not daring to touch his knee. "I-I told him s-so often," he rambled on, voice completely broken up. "Ch-Channie, what d-did I do wrong?" he hiccuped, and Chan's heart broke at the helpless sound of his name.

"You did nothing wrong, Minho," he assured him anxiously and rubbed his back. "He didn't mean to, it was just an accident."

"I know he didn't mean to," Minho protested, gripping Chan's shirt. "How am I supposed to help them wh-when I can't even do it pro-perly myself?"

"Stop pushing yourself past your limits. You're injured, and you should be resting. You're working harder than all of us, that's not right," he tried to reason with him gently. "I know you're our lead dancer, and I know how you hate not being able to move the way you did before. But you need to take a step back to heal. If you keep pushing, you'll hurt yourself worse and may never be able to dance again."

"I can't," he shook his head and tiredly rubbed his face.

"Why not?" he asked reluctantly.

Minho sniffled softly and tried to collect himself again. "I have to stay strong for the rest of the team."

"Minho," he scolded him softly. "You can't be serious. Showing them it's okay to work your mind and body through pain doesn't teach them anything good."

"I hate you," he breathed out, and Chan's hold on him loosened. Suddenly, the air became still, harsh.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"How can you expect me to take care of myself and love myself when you gave up on me in the first place?" he asked.

"I never gave up on you," he said, slowly growing irritated from his words.

"Admit it, I wasn't enough. I was getting bitter because of my injury. I was too caught up in my head to support you the way I should have been when you were struggling. That's why you said all those things," Minho said, observing his eyes for signs of hesitation. Although deep down, he didn’t want anything he was saying to be true. But he had to know. "Fucking admit it and make it easier for me to blame myself."

"Minho," Chan said firmly as he slipped from his lap, whimpering at the movement.

Minho stared at him with a mixture of pure desperation and sadness. His mind was racing and he was speaking before thinking. "Sometimes I wish you cheated."

"Excuse me?" he asked, shocked. Minho’s emotions were surging through his body. It was clear, in this moment, he didn’t know where to place his anger.

"It would give me a reason to hate you instead of hating myself so much," he said darkly, and Chan's face fell. "You really fucked me up, Chan, I don't know what to believe in anymore."

Chan stared at him blankly, his heart sinking at the darkness clouding his face. "I don't think we should continue this conversation right now," he said, trying to stay calm and take Jisung's words to heart.

"Why?" he laughed weakly. "Afraid the truth will slip out again?"

"Will you shut up?" he asked angrily. "We've been here before. I thought we were moving on from this."

"Easy for you to say. You’re the one causing all the damage," he scoffed.

"Now you're just being an asshole," he gave right back. "You're not exactly innocent, Minho, and a few days ago, you seemed to know that as well."

"Huh, is asshole your new term of endearment for me?" he asked sarcastically. "I know I'm not innocent, but all I did was tell the truth. That's the fucking difference here."

Chan stared at him before getting up. "If you want to continue to be this way, I'll leave. I stayed to help you out because you were clearly in pain. I didn't stay to start a fight and make things worse."

Minho rolled his eyes. "Leaving again, great."

Chan crouched down in front of him, and that's when it hit him. His nose locked in to a lingering scent on Minho. Alcohol. "Maybe this wasn't even Seungmin's mistake to begin with."

"What are you talking about now?" he asked harshly.

"I told you no drinking during the day," he said firmly. "You know the rules, Minho."

"Seriously?" he laughed. "It takes a lot more than what I had to get drunk."

"Have you eaten today? Or yesterday?" he asked, and guilt flickered in Minho's eyes. “You don’t have any substance filling your body, so you’re going to get drunk faster. Enough is enough, Minho."

"Fuck you," Minho pressed out, eyes clouded with hurt, but his heart squeezed.

"Fuck you yourself," Chan gave back quietly. "Get yourself together and stop messing with the younger ones."

"They've fucked up. That has nothing to do with me," he defended himself.

"There was a time they came to you because you're patient and understanding. You help them instead of making them feel like shit," he told him.

"There was a time a certain someone didn't break my heart, yes, and I still had the energy to do so," is all he could answer to that. They stared at each other for a very long moment, and neither of them knew what to say. Until Minho gave up and closed his eyes in defeat. This was stupid. "I'm sorry," he whispered, remorse filling his body. "I'm in pain and very frustrated right now. This has nothing to do with you."

"Doesn't everything lately?" he asked, almost sounding sorry.

Minho pressed their foreheads together and very hesitantly brushed his fingers over Chan's cheek. "This is wrong, Channie. We are wrong."

"Don't say that," Chan whispered and cupped his face. If he could pull him any closer, he would in a heartbeat just to feel his warmth.

"This has gotten toxic, and you know it," he said tiredly.

"It doesn't have to be. We had something really good, Min. We can get that back," Chan told him.

"Will it ever be the same?" Minho asked quietly.

"Can't it be better?" Chan asked. “We can make this so beautiful between us, with a real second chance to do better.”

"I really want it to be," Minho whispered.

"Me too," Chan assured him and traced the features of his face with his fingertips. "Min, I lo-."

Minho covered his mouth with his hand with wide eyes. "Don't you dare."

"Sorry," he mumbled against his hand before grabbing his wrist and turning his hand a little, planting soft kisses on his palm. A tiny kiss on his wrist followed before he leaned in, cupping his face again. Sincerity blanketed his expression as he maintained eye contact briefly.

"You know, a kiss doesn’t fix everything," he told him, timidly searching his eyes.

"Maybe not everything," he nodded agreeingly before crashing his lips onto Minho's. Minho gripped his shirt and kissed back fiercely. They held onto each other desperately, chasing each other's lips out of hunger. Chan could taste the alcohol as they kissed and moaned as Minho pushed his tongue into his mouth. "Baby," he moaned softly.

"Channie," Minho moaned against his lips before pulling back to catch his breath.

"This is a bad idea," Chan said quietly.

"I know," Minho nodded sadly.

"We have to stop doing that," he breathed out, but unable to tear his gaze away from Minho's already swollen lips.

"Then stop looking at me like that," he whispered, slightly pleading.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"You say that a lot lately," Minho smiled sadly.

"I feel it a lot more lately," he smiled back, reflecting the sadness in his lover’s features.

Chp. 10 | Chp. 12

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/ removed from the taglist)

@soullostinspaceandtime @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni @aaasia111 @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict

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leeminho-hall · 2 months

Text

rsvp

pairing: lee minho x afab!reader

warnings: 🔞!!!!, original vampire!minho, vampire!reader, dubcon (boundaries, consent, safe words, etc. are implied to have been established prior to this!!), phone sex, masturbation, compulsion / mind control, ruined orgasms, biting / feeding, blood play, cunnilingus, minho’s vampire venom, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, squirting, reader is a bit of a Brat and receives a very minho-esque punishment <3

a/n: this is my own take on this post and inspired by the vampire diaries <3 i have some notes at the very end that give you some background info on this universe! this lore is specific to the vampire diaries, idk any other vampire lore so if it’s not accurate to what you know, don’t come for me lol. also thank u to my bae juno for coming up w the title!!!

“this isn’t funny,” minho coos. faux nice. his teeth are gritted, that much you can tell even over the phone. his small fingers drum against the frame of your wide open front door. that’s as far as he’s gotten.

you know when this is all over with he will actually find it funny. your wit is one of his favorite things about you, he’s told you plenty of times. you’re clever, and you can give just as good as you take. in his thousand years on this earth, he’s never met anyone like you; that’s a fact.

he sighs and steps away from the door, and you can hear the creak of the porch swing through the speaker when minho plops down on it.

“it’s cold out here.”

“you’re dead, stupid,” you reply back, and the curl of your fingers takes your breath away a moment later.

minho’s silent on the other end, and you drop the phone from between your ear and shoulder to the pillow beside you, tapping the speaker button on your screen.

you know for certain he can hear the slick noises of your fingers bullying themselves inside your cunt. you’re so wet it’s just that loud, but he’d be able to hear it regardless. enhanced hearing and whatnot.

any other time, minho would have barged inside the house you share with your best friend, door hinges be damned.

see, minho knew your lease was coming to an end. you might have just skipped out on a few details in order to have one last bit of fun in your rental house for old time’s sake before moving in with him. minho has been to your place countless times, has walked in like he owns it more than you can remember. once you invited him inside, he could come and go as he pleased. and he did.

your name was on the lease then, but it isn’t anymore.

unbeknownst to your beautiful, beautiful minho, you signed the lease fully over to your best friend yesterday. now that the ownership of the house has changed, minho can’t come inside without your best friend’s explicit permission. which you oh so conveniently forgot to mention while he was on his way over.

“you’re dead, stupid,” he mocks back. that’s true. he had to turn you. “jagi. let me inside.”

“come in, lino,” you sing-song through the phone, teeth snagging your bottom lip while your fingers slip from your cunt to rub sloppy circles all over your clit. “i’m so lonely, my minho. i’m naked and lonely and no one is here to touch me…”

he growls, and your teeth ache in response. you kick your feet in excitement. no matter how many times you tell him to come in, he won’t be able to, and you both know it.

“where is she?” minho mutters. your best friend. “tell her to let me in. i’ll even ask her nicely.”

you’re going to get it for laughing at his expense, but you can’t help but giggle. your best friend and your boyfriend share an unwavering, mutual respect for one another, yet they don’t always see eye to eye. some witchy-vampire thing that goes way back.

“it’s a nice day today. i think you should stay outside a little longer and enjoy the sunlight. you’re wearing your ring, aren’t you?” oh, you’re definitely going to get it.

but he’s so fun to play with.

your head turns away from the phone fitfully as your fingers catch on the swollen little bud of your clit, legs spreading wider on their own accord. “oh, min- minho,” you whimper. you can see him now, cellphone pressed tight to his ear and nose angled high. he can hear you without the phone, and you know he can smell you too.

that hitachi wand he bought you for your last birthday would feel so good right about now, but you’re too desperate to move your hand away from your cunt for even a second to grab it.

“sweet jagi,” minho croons. you’d swear he was a siren if you didn’t know any better, voice tender and airy and so very enticing. “it feels so good, doesn’t it? but it could be better. you know i can do it better. stop and get your friend, alright? tell her to let me inside so we can play…”

he’s back at the mouth of the door again. you can hear his fingers tapping on the wooden frame once more, and you shudder when you pull your fingers away from yourself. the desperation to make yourself cum is suddenly overridden by the desperation to finally obey your sire. you end the call and leave your phone on the bed, approaching your closed bedroom door without a second thought to spare.

the door cracks open with a gentle push of your finger, and with a whiff of the air, you can tell that your best friend is in her bedroom on the other side of the house. she’s quick to answer when you call her name.

she opens her door and leans against its frame.

“yeees?” she asks slowly. she already knows what you want.

“would you be a doll and let minho in? he’s- he’s been waiting outside.” you ask, making sure to bat your eyelashes and give her your best puppy dog eyes through your barely cracked open bedroom door.

“what if i don’t want to?”

“i could compel you, you know?” you’d can’t. you couldn’t compel a witch no matter how badly you wanted to. she cocks her head and the lights in your hall flicker.

“ha! i’d like to see you try.”

she loves to give you a hard time, but she dutifully leaves her post against her door and complains her way down the hall.

“don’t ever involve me in one of your weird, vampire sex things again, you freaks. and light a candle when you’re done! i’m leaving, by the way. like, leaving right now.” you hear the jangle of her keys when she picks them up from the counter and rush to climb back onto your bed. “ah, wonderful. lee minho. please, come inside. or whatever.”

it’s eerily silent when the front door slams shut. it has you giddy. your own heart pounding in your chest is the only thing you can hear, overpowering the rhythmic thump of minho’s heart pumping that you’d usually be keenly aware of.

however, your nose tells you he’s in the house, but where? you have no clue.

you’re contemplating getting up and locking your bedroom door to really mess with him, but before you have the chance, it’s flying open and banging against the wall adjacent to it. minho’s on you in a flash, so quick that you can’t even get your bearings straight before he’s pressing you against the mattress and sliding a mean hand up your thigh. his hands are rough, but the little smile on his face is anything but.

“you think you’re so funny, hm?” he asks, cocking his head and slipping two fingers right inside. “keeping me from what’s mine.”

“i’m hilarious,” you breathe. “you tell me so all the time.”

your hips buck against his probing fingers. he lets you ride them for a moment, but minho’s quick to pin you down by your thighs when he feels you’ve had enough.

“you’re being a brat. i think it’s time you listen to me and do as you’re told. is that clear?”

all you do is huff in response, and you turn your head away from him in defiance.

“jagi. i’m not asking.”

minho grips your cheeks in his hand until your lips poke out in a pout, and he forces your head to turn back towards him. your stomach flips in anticipation when your eyes lock; you know what’s coming.

he kisses you softly on your pouted lips before his pupils begin to dilate, and yours immediately follow suit.

“you’re going to keep playing with this needy pussy just like you did on the phone with me earlier, yeh? but just when you get close, right when you start to tumble over the edge, you’re going to pull your hands away. you were so mean to me, jagi, i think this is what you deserve. mm, yes. that’s good.”

“yes, that’s good,” you parrot, dazed and entranced, and he kisses you once more.

minho blinks; you blink, and you shake your head free of his grasp. he laughs at the look of bewilderment on your face and thumbs at the confused scrunch of your eyebrows.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. wasn’t he just fussing at you for being a brat?

“because i love you,” is all he says, and it still makes your heart race even though you can tell he’s up to something. minho pulls himself off of you and settles comfortably against the headboard. “you should continue what you were doing earlier.”

it’s like your body moves on autopilot. you scoot as close to him as you physically can before throwing a leg over his and slipping your hand between your thighs. you’re surprised he’s letting you touch yourself at all after the stunt you pulled, but you won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. your gut tells you you’re missing something though, you just can’t put your finger on what.

“it feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks against your hair. it does feel good. your pussy’s been soaked, and it’s pruning your fingers. you dip two fingers into your hole to gather more wetness to spread on your clit. a strangled gasp leaves your lips at the noise it makes, slick and dirty, and minho hums his own approval.

he lets you use his thigh as leverage as you grind against your own fingers, leg pushing down on his whenever you drive your hips against your hand.

“i’m gonna cum,” you whimper. you’ve waited so long.

minho smiles and peppers a kiss to your ear. “yeah?”

two sticky fingers press harshly down on your clit. you can feel your release coming, can almost taste it in the air. it burns in your belly, swirling and building as your hips thrum in their search for your pleasure.

your cunt gives its first throb as you begin to cum, and your hand slips away before you can even register that it’s moving.

the first instinct you have is to bring your hand back to finish the job, but you can’t. your mind won’t let you. a pained keen leaves your lips, and minho holds you while you squirm through a ruined orgasm.

“m-minho! minho, nnnn- wha- what? why? minho, please!”

a kiss to your cheek, a smile against your temple.

“hm? what’s wrong, jagi?”

“w-why? why? i can’t-”

“you can. do it again.”

you tuck your face against his chest but readily comply. minho sits up straighter so he can hold you close, one arm around your shaking shoulders and the other arm resting on one of your spread thighs. your clit is sensitive, achy with an unexpectedly ruined orgasm. this time, this time you’ll cum, you swear it.

your wrist is starting to hurt, but you don’t pay it any mind. you’re desperate to cum, desperate to cum for minho. so much so that you’re drooling into the cotton of his t-shirt. you open your mouth and clamp your teeth down on the fabric; minho doesn’t even react when you begin to gnaw on it.

he knows what your frantic, garbled mumbling means the second you start, and he smells your tears before he sees them as you’re forced to ruin your second orgasm.

your legs clamp shut this time in an attempt to feel any last dreg of pleasure, but minho is quick to pry them open and claw at your thigh until you’re whimpering.

“aigoo, my baby. what are you crying for, hm?”

“min- minho, minho, i don’t know wh- why i can’t. why? i want to cum!” you could throw a tantrum. you want to. you want to kick your legs and holler and roll around on your bed until you get your way.

“silly, you’ve been cumming,” he coos, wiping your tears and licking the salty wetness from his thumb when he’s done.

his hold on you changes every time you touch yourself. now, he holds you like a baby and rocks you gently while your fingers are squashed between your slicked thighs. your movement is tempered like this, but it still doesn’t stop you from trying to really make yourself cum again.

your cramped, tired digits rub back and forth against your clit; it’s sensitive and achy due to two unsatisfying orgasms, but you don’t want to stop until you cum right. you can do it. minho sucks a deep kiss into the thrumming pulse point on your neck.

“yes, yes, i- m’gonna cum, i can. i’ll cum, i’ll cum-”

the third ruined orgasm doesn’t come as a surprise, but it still makes you cry into his shirt when your hand slips from between your thighs without your permission.

“alright, alright. enough of that. i hate seeing my jagi cry.”

“no you don’t,” you snivel with a pitiful headbutt to his chest.

“ah, you’re right. you’re so pretty when you do. i just want my turn now.”

minho shucks off his drool-covered t-shirt and rearranges you until you’re laying on your back. your limbs barely work, flopping uselessly wherever minho manhandles them. you can’t even grab onto his hair when he bullies himself between your legs and kisses sloppily up your spread thighs.

“i’m hungry,” minho purrs, and you tilt your hips up closer to his face. if he’s hungry, you’ll happily let him eat. he watches you arch your back and rock your hips with a glint in his eyes, letting you debase yourself for his viewing. your brain finally catches onto what he means when the white of his eyes turn dark red and his veins begin to protrude out from under them.

you can’t complain too much when a sharp bite to your thigh is just as pleasurable in its own unique way. it’s euphoric. whether it’s because it’s minho who’s biting you or because of the venom in his saliva when his fangs elongate, you can't say. your body goes taut, hands clenching into fists at your side as minho’s fangs pierce the tender skin of your inner thigh.

minho hums against your skin as he drinks. he doesn’t feed from your thighs as often as you feed from his, much prefers the intimacy of feeding from your neck or looking into your hazy eyes while he bites into your wrist.

your blood is a delicacy to him, and you know it. he’s told you before, and you’ve experienced it yourself when you feed on him. vampire blood has a smoother aftertaste than that of humans or animals. minho closes his eyes and lets his hands pet at your sides while he feeds.

it’s a shame when he pulls away, but you’re blessed with the sight of a sated minho. remnants of your blood drip from his fangs, smearing red across his swollen lips and his chin. you can feel your own mouth watering in response. pavlov’s dog. minho’s fledgling.

“want,” is all you can manage through the rush of your near bloodlust, and minho’s arm snakes up to your open mouth.

he doesn’t even flinch when your now extended fangs pierce the skin of his wrist, but he coos when your uncoordinated limbs move to hug his arm to your chest.

you drink frantically from his wrist, wanting more more more, but you can only take so much at a time. his blood seeps slowly from the corners of your mouth in your haste to take in as much as you can before swallowing in needy gulps.

all you’re focused on is the feel of his skin and his warm blood flooding your mouth, so you’re shocked out of your stupor when minho’s bloodied lips find the still slick heat of your cunt. his hand falls from your lips when you cry out, but he’s quick to cover your mouth with a rough palm so he can eat in peace.

his red-stained tongue circles your clit like it’s candy, and when he burrows his face further into your cunt, some of your leftover blood smears against your pubic mound.

you’re getting it all over, is what you want to say, but you can’t with his mean hand covering your mouth.

minho’s fangs have since retracted to their normal length, but the residual saliva from his feed makes your cunt tingle in ways it only can when you come into contact with his venom.

the sounds are filthy. you’re thankful it’s only you and minho in the house because there’s no doubt the noises coming from your bedroom are blaring. if it’s not the wet clicking noises of minho’s devious tongue flicking against your swollen clit, it’s the muffled cries you’re making behind his hand.

if you were in your right mind, you’d notice he’s being even more thorough than usual when he eats your pussy. minho’s spit seeps down to your hole, and he uses two fingers to swipe it up before bullying them inside.

“hugging me tight already,” he muses. minho purses his lips in a sloppy kiss and shakes his head from side to side while his fingers work you open.

it’s not until the tingling on your clit fades into numbness that you realize what he’s doing, and your legs kick out in defiance.

“mmmph!” it’s muffled by his hand that still covers your mouth, but you finally muster enough strength to shove his hand away. “minho! minho, no, please don’t be mean!”

“i’m mean? oh, jagi. you were mean to me earlier, don’t you remember? i’m just giving you the punishment you deserve.”

oh, if it’s not the consequences of your own actions.

his tongue dips down to lick where his fingers spear you open, and you can’t feel it at all, nor can you feel his steadily thrusting fingers.

“i-!” you’re going to cry again. “minho, i’m sorry! i just- i wanted to play, that’s all. i’m sorry. pleasepleaseplease don’t, i can’t feel- can’t feel anything.”

“i’m sorry too, baby.” his voice is so sweet, so gentle. so condescending. “you made me do this.”

you can only tell he removes his fingers because you see him do it. you weren’t lying when you told him you can’t feel anything down there, the venom left over from his feed numbing you inside and out due to his dexterous tongue and sneaky fingers.

the slap to your pussy comes as a surprise. your breath catches on a gasp, throat clicking with viscous spit. it doesn’t hurt at all, but the sound of it is enough to have you trembling.

his teeth are tinted red when he smiles that devil bunny smile you hate to love so much. minho doesn’t even bother taking his sweatpants off all the way, just tucks the band of them under his sac and situates himself on his knees between your spread legs.

minho sheaths himself inside slowly. for whose benefit, you don’t know, but he grunts when he stills balls deep in your cunt.

“so soft inside,” he murmurs. “such a wet pussy.”

you’re pathetic; tears are already brimming in your eyes again. you want to feel how hard his cock is, you want to feel the way he makes a home for himself inside of you.

“minho,” you mewl. “does it feel good? can’t- i can’t feel, you have to tell me. please tell me.”

“your pussy is perfect.”

that makes you whine. all you can do is lay there and let minho use your body to get off. your breasts bounce with his thrusts, he shifts you up the bed with how good he’s fucking you.

his head hangs low as he watches himself slide into the gummy wetness of your cunt, hair dangling and bouncing when he moves. his hands are balled into fists, and they press against the mattress on either side of you.

“my little doll,” he grits. “just a- ah, ahh fuck- a fuckhole. you were so mean, jagi, aren’t i so nice to fuck you still?”

“yes! yes, fuck me! please, minho i was bad, i’m sorry. will you- keep- please, keep fucking me until you cum.”

he pushes your knees to your chest and raises into a squat, his thighs press tightly against the backs of yours. his cock slips free and he’s the only one to fuss, but he takes the base of his cock in his hands and slaps the mushroom head against your clit.

minho looks big like this. he towers over you, shoulders wide set and chest bulging. a droplet of sweat drips from a wet strand of hair and onto your cheek. he watches it roll down into your hairline as he sheaths himself inside again. the slick noises your cunt makes has your chest heating up right away, and minho catches your arms before they can reach up to cover your face.

“take it. just let me in,” he says, and you nod.

the angle is deeper this way; the slap of minho’s skin against yours is nearly deafening.

“you’re clenching so hard on me, jagi. gonna cum, hm?”

are you? can you? you can’t feel a thing. can’t feel the way his cock wrecks your little hole or the new addition of his fingers rubbing uselessly at the stiff bud of your clit.

“i can’t fe- feel anything, minho, i dunno?!” you cry. your chin quivers when you look up at him, but there’s a frantic look in his eyes when he nods his head back at you. the laugh that bubbles out of his mouth is almost maniacal.

“you’re going to. i don’t have to compel it out of you either, hm? ahh, jagi. oh, jagi, there. you’re cumming. you’re cumming, baby, i can feel it. keep-”

if he tells you so, you believe it. you must be cumming for him. the only further proof you need is the sudden burst of wetness you feel against your thighs. it’s loud, and your cunt contracts so violently that it pushes minho’s cock from inside, splashing against his stomach and soaking his sweatpants.

a moan bursts from behind your lips when he slips inside again, and his own breathy moan follows suit. he loves your noises, loves how desperate and high pitched they get when you’re waiting for his cum, so you keep it up despite the lack of sensation you feel. he fucks you rough and fast in his haste to cum too, and you’re shamefully a little disheartened you can’t feel the overstimulation you know would be setting in by now.

“please cum inside me. my minho, my minho, please? i love you. i love you. i’ll be good now, baby, please?”

he stops breathing when he cums, pressing deep inside and stilling as he empties it inside where it belongs. his belly trembles and his thighs do too, and you’d giggle at the little whine that leaves his lips if you weren’t so focused on trying to feel his cum spilling inside despite your numbness.

minho’s toes crack whenever he eases back on his haunches and guides his softening cock out of your hole. he doesn’t even bother pulling his pants all the way up before slumping to the side and smushing his cheek against your sweaty shoulder.

he rests a small hand on his favorite emotional support boob while you both come down together.

“i can’t believe you made me squirt and i didn’t even feel it,” you mumble. you squeeze your thighs together. still nothing, but you can feel his leaking cum smearing against the plush of your thighs.

“i can’t believe you actually managed to uninvite me into this house on a technicality. that’s cruel. you’re cruel and mean.”

“you can’t call me cruel and mean after i squirted for you!”

minho jiggles your boob in his hand and pinches your nipple until you swat at him.

“yeah, and now i have to walk out of here pantless.”

ok HI here are some facts if you've never seen the vampire diaries or just some facts about this universe specifically!

vampires have to be invited into a residence by the living owner of said residence. your rental house was leased by both you and your bestie, so you could invite him inside. now that ownership has changed to just your best friend, she is the only person who can. even after you died and became a vampire, he was still able to come inside since the ownership of the house hadn't changed. until now :)

the ring you mention to minho on the phone is a daylight ring. vampires will burn in the sunlight without it, so you and minho having a daylight ring is a necessity! even if you're inside and you walk by a window during the day without your ring on, your ass would catch on fire lmao

original vampires (the lee family... minho, felix, hoseok, taemin, chaeryeong?? shit, idk. i'm just naming lees i like lolll) are the first ever vampires to walk the earth. that's why they're called originals. original vampires can compel regular degular vampires (and humans, and vampire hybrids!) which is why minho is able to compel you. non-original vampires cannot compel other vampires, so it doesn't work the other way around, but they can compel humans.

compulsion is mainly done by making eye contact with whoever you want to compel and stating whatever it is that you want them to do. when someone is under compulsion, they won't remember the act of being compelled. so basically, you don't remember what minho made you do to yourself until he tells you about it afterwards, hence the dubcon tag. so in this case, he'll have to tell you he made you ruin your own orgasm three times as part of a punishment lmao

vampires can feed from other vampires, but it takes a very long time and a lot of dedication for it to be a sustainable way of life. it's very rare for that to happen, so you can feed on whatever you like! humans, animals, blood bags.... you and minho feed on each other in bed because it's sexy. not to actually gain nutrients. the numbing venom is something i came up with though, sorry i didn’t make that very clear, but i thought it would be a fun little addition!

i kind of wanted to touch on sire bonding, which could possibly have added more to the dubcon element, but i decided against it because i would have had to add sooo much more plot that i don't have the patience to write LMAO. if you have any questions about that though please ask! i'd be happy to explain what i had in mind :)

#🌸🐰minho

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leeminho-hall · 2 months

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Don’t let me love you ♡ Hyunjin (Siren part II)

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Camboy!Hyunjin, friends with benefits to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), sex work, mentions of smoking, drinking, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm delay/denial, sex toys, marking, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, choking (only a little tho)

♡ Word count: 15.7k

♡ Synopsis: Hyunjin has been a camboy since he turned eighteen and a host since the age of twenty. His life and line of work had him building up a fortress of walls to keep himself safe, but he’s powerless as he watches you unknowingly break them down. Although he knows you deserve better than him, he battles with a selfish desire that wants nothing more than to allow himself to love you.

♡ A/N: Part two of what was supposed to be a one-shot, but people made my brain think things and I wrote 15.7K WORDS. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that so many people actually wanted a part two of something I wrote, so I wanna say thank you 🩷

← part I

Your situation with Hyunjin has been going on for almost eight months now.

Some things have changed; he’s undoubtedly more clingy with you, and you started hanging out with no intentions of having sex. What remains unchanged, however, is the fact that he’s still the same old egotistical idiot.

The thing is, you somehow grew to like that about him. It’s amusing to you just how much he loves himself, gloating about his conquests at the club or bragging about maintaining his number-one spot on the camming website. Although this only makes you even more certain you would never entertain the idea of being with someone like him, having the man who makes you come so hard also make you laugh just as much is a nice bonus.

Hyunjin began coming over to your apartment around two months ago, gradually wearing down your resistance with a lot of pestering until you finally let him in. Your home was almost sacred to you. Hooking up in his apartment was one thing, doing that in the familiarity of your home made it feel almost too intimate. You’ve fucked on the couch, on the kitchen counter, in the shower, but you never allow him into your bedroom. You’re not entirely sure why, but it would feel as if you were tainting your favorite place if he were to fuck you in your bed.

You’re getting ready for a date in your bathroom with Hyunjin sitting on the floor behind you, claiming the view of your ass from that angle was optimal. He lets out a loud chuckle as he watches you dab yet another layer of concealer on the hickey he left on your collarbone earlier tonight.

“Fuck off,” you snap at him. “You think this is funny?”

“Well, yeah, ‘cause it is,” he simply says, and you see him shrugging in the mirror, a grin tugging at one corner of his lip.

Hyunjin has the maddening habit of marking you. Although you told him numerous times how much you hate it, he conveniently ignores that when you have sex, and you’re always too clouded by lust to say anything about it.

“What are you doing on your livestream tonight?” You ask after finally making the small, red blotch on your skin imperceptible.

Watching Hyunjin cam has become your go-to de-stressing method after work. Sitting in a corner far away from the camera, you watch him do his job with ease, like it’s second nature to him. It’s almost intoxicating how he seems to always know what to say to get his viewers going, knowing exactly when to be mean and when to play the role of a caring boyfriend. It makes you clench around nothing, hungrily watching as he makes himself come all over his stomach so deliciously it has you eager to be fucked as soon as he’s done.

He hums. “Well, they really seemed to like the toys I tried last weekend, so I guess that’s what I’m doing for the next few weeks.”

“Ooh, so you’re sticking to the toys now,” you tease him with a grin.

Last Saturday, you watched as Hyunjin opened fan gifts he had received in his PO box during his livestream. Some were extremely questionable (if you had a nickel for every time he pulled out used panties from a box, you’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice), while some were exactly what you would expect to be sent to a camboy. A variety of BDSM gear, kinky costumes fans wanted him to wear, and of course, a lot of sex toys.

Hyunjin shrugs again, leaning on his left hand and staring up at you through the mirror. “I kinda have to do whatever my viewers want to keep my number one ranking.”

“And are you going to the club tonight?”

“Nah,” he yawns and rests his head against the wall. “Took the day off. My spot there is secured,” his lips upturn into a grin. “No other guy at that club can compete with me.”

That’s another thing you learned about Hyunjin these past months; his club and website rankings are extremely important to him. You also learned he has an Only Fans account on the side where he shares videos and pictures of himself, and he pesters you about making any type of content with him every couple of weeks. You were tempted after seeing the enticing amount of money that was in it for you, but your decision was unswayed.

Your confidence wasn’t like his. You’re sure having your performance and appearance scrutinized by strangers would make you go insane.

Nonetheless, you struggle to conceal your jealousy toward Hyunjin’s jobs, as they seem so damn perfect in your eyes. How great would it be if you could essentially work only when you felt like it? Not to mention the fact that both his jobs are basically having orgasms and looking pretty, which certainly seems heavenly when compared to your headache-inducing corporate job.

He even delayed the starting time of his livestream tonight for the sole purpose of tormenting you while you get ready.

Jihoon is your first proper date in almost a year, as you only allowed yourself the luxury of dating after getting the promotion you were working for. He’s in your company’s finance department, and you two have been casually flirting for three months. You tried your best to ignore him for a couple of weeks, but not only was he ridiculously good-looking, he was also the breathing definition of boyfriend material. He was kind, holding doors open and helping other workers carry heavy boxes with a smile on his face. He was caring, always arriving at the office with coffee for his coworkers, having memorized everyone’s order.

Not to mention the whispered rumors that echoed through the hallways of the ninth floor. Your friend, who had recently moved into the finance department, shared them with you after a drunken night out. Jihoon was apparently amazing in bed, all while being a perfect gentleman. The perfect blend of rough and sweet, and never one to kiss and tell — all these rumors apparently coming from women in his department who had dated him and couldn’t keep themselves from gushing about their unforgettable experience with him.

But it would be a lie to say you were excited about this date because of him.

It was the prospect of how much this could vex Hyunjin that really got you eager.

A couple of nights ago, you joked with Hyunjin about how Jihoon was the complete antithesis of him, hence why he was the ideal candidate for a boyfriend. Hyunjin’s reaction was exactly what you anticipated, with him becoming visibly annoyed and grumbling about how Jihoon probably talks a big game but does the bare minimum in bed.

You simply laughed because the mere thought that another man could be just as good, if not better, than him in bed was what ticked Hyunjin off. Never mind that you said Jihoon was perfect because he was everything he was not.

“You know,” Hyunjin suddenly says, “We should make a bet.”

And you hesitate for a beat and a half because you know Hyunjin.

Still, you sigh and answer, “Sure. What kind of bet?”

“If this guy is really that good in bed, then I’ll pay for your next date myself,” he vows, his smirk only growing as you turn to look at him through the mirror. “If he’s average, you go on a date with me.”

You silently look at him for a few seconds before laughter bursts out of you.

“Hyunjin, do you fucking hate me?” You ask, turning your body toward him. “I get shitty sex then have to endure a date with you?”

He shrugs, rising to stand in front of you. “This just proved to me how much faith you have in your date,” he calmly says. He then leans into you, caging you against the countertop, hands beside your body. Hyunjin bends his face to yours, his breath tickling your skin as he speaks, “Just admit you know no guy will ever be a better fuck than me.”

You scoff at his arrogance, pushing him until his back hits the wall.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Hyunjin follows you when you leave the bathroom to grab your purse in the living room, loudly clicking his tongue behind you.

“Why’d you dress up for him?” He huffs, and you turn to look at him with a raised brow. “This fucking short dress and shit.” He rakes his eyes over your body from head to toe, tugging at his bottom lip. “I should make you dress up for me, too. You look hot.”

By now, you’ve learned that the best course of action to follow when dealing with Hyunjin’s monumental ego is to ignore it altogether. It’s also quite entertaining to purposefully give him answers you know will vex him, so you sweetly smile at him.

“Thank you,” you beam, your fingers toying with the hem of your short dress, pulling up the fabric. “Hopefully Jihoon thinks the same.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, curling an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. He harshly presses his lips to yours, undoubtedly smudging your lipstick. His tongue pushes past your lips, brushing against your own. It’s almost like an act of possessiveness — leaving his taste on your tongue before you go off to your date with another man.

He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you even closer. But just as you’re getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the sound of your doorbell echoes through the room, and your eyes widen. Pulling away, you promptly push Hyunjin back and wipe the corners of your mouth. You stifle a chuckle when your eyes land on his face; red lipstick smudged all over his lips.

“Stay in the bathroom until I leave,” you tell him while grabbing your purse from the couch. He rolls his eyes again, this time with a scowl contorting his features.

You smile at Jihoon when you open your door. Barely giving him the chance to say hello, you hurry him toward the elevator, reminding him of your reservation. You know Hyunjin, and you wouldn’t put it past him to show up behind you simply to stir up some drama.

But that’s the thing; you know Hyunjin, yet you still choose to stay in this strange arrangement with him. Because it’s the fact that you know him, for some reason you’re unsure of yourself, that makes you actually like him a little bit.

Hyunjin ends his livestream as usual, saying goodnight with a promise of seeing his viewers again tomorrow night. He never acknowledges tips and addresses no one by their name or username. Some cammers wear masks to conceal their identities — this cavalier persona, uncaring and nonchalant, is Hyunjin’s mask.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he goes on to do the arduous task of cleaning up the fleshlight he used tonight. It was a gift from a viewer, who begged him — with quite a lot of tips — to use it for her. What was initially meant to be a one-time thing has now become his new routine, as his viewers couldn’t get enough of it.

Hyunjin hates this part of his camming job: the incessant need to please the people who watch him, lest they abandon him and move on to a new cammer. He doesn’t mind the sex toys — although cleaning them makes him want to throw his entire collection out the window — but he’s had to do a lot of shit he really didn’t want to, all in the name of maintaining his number one spot.

He was eighteen when he first started. In desperate need of money after moving out of home for college, one of his friends suggested he sell his nudes to people around campus. When Hyunjin scowled and asked why the fuck that was his first and only suggestion, the boy laughed. He remembers his words to this day:

“Hyunjin, you know you don’t really have anything else other than your looks. Your grades are shit, and you’re lazy as fuck. This is pretty much the only way you can ever make money.”

And by that age, that was nothing new to Hyunjin, as he had heard different variations of that same speech his entire life. When he was a child, his parents urged him to become an idol or a model, going so far as to motivate him to ignore his schoolwork to attend auditions (even when he whined about how much he hated them).

His mother always said his face had the power to make people love him while studying would only lead to success.

“It’s much better to be loved, Hyunjin,” she told him when he was ten. “Anyone can reach success if they try hard enough, but being loved is a privilege only special people can have.”

By his late teens, when his reputation began to precede him after countless hookups during high school, his friends assured him he could make a lot of money off of sex.

Either way, the consensus was always that the only thing Hyunjin had to offer were his looks and body.

At first, he hated it. He wanted nothing more than to be appreciated for anything other than what his face looked like, or how good he was in bed. He got his grades up, excelled in hobbies he actually liked, and even set goals for himself after college. But Hyunjin never heard a word of praise from his parents, and his friends were always more interested in who he was hooking up with than how he got to the top of his class. After a while, he realized he was simply fighting a losing battle.

So he accepted that truth, because it couldn’t hurt him if he were the one to incentivize it.

That was why he decided to follow his friend’s asinine suggestion.

His first endeavor was with simple videos of himself jerking off in front of his mirror, the shitty camera of his phone certainly hindering his attempt at making the whole thing pleasing to the eyes. He would promote them through text messages to acquaintances he’d met at parties at first, later creating a Twitter account dedicated solely to selling these videos. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was certainly more than his friends made while working monotonous shifts at coffee shops.

Only four months later, he coincidentally entered the world of camming through a girl he had been hooking up with.

They were in her bedroom, just about to have sex, when she giggled against his lips and told him she could make a lot of money if he fucked her during one of her livestreams. He said he could make a lot of money if she let him record them fucking.

They ultimately reached an agreement, and Hyunjin appeared on his first-ever livestream that same night — a mask covering both their faces and the money made split evenly between them.

He recalls how his eyes were glued to her computer screen the entire time. He was used to praises and compliments, but there was something different about having a stranger openly say they’d do anything to be in that girl’s place, that they would pay to have him fuck them, or even something as simple as telling Hyunjin how good he was. It had a rush of euphoria cursing through his veins.

It was as if, for the first time in his life, he had found something he was truly good at, something that he was entirely in control of. He was a natural, and he enjoyed every moment of it, easily slipping into the persona he wears to this day.

He got drunk on that validation and was desperate to have it again.

After that night, he created his own account, with many of his hookup’s viewers following him immediately. He dropped out of college soon after he started, as the money he made from camming along with selling his content on Only Fans already exceeded the estimated salary in his field of study.

Hyunjin was good, and he loved being good. Most importantly, he loved knowing he was good.

That’s why he simply ignores the few times he’s had to do things he wasn’t all that keen on doing. Because at the end of the day, that’s the only thing he’s good at — pleasing people, no matter the cost.

After a long shower, Hyunjin walks back into his room and sinks into his bed. He’s glad he took the day off from his job at the club since a viewer tipped him $300 to edge himself for as long as he could tonight. After an hour of that, the only thing he wants is to curl up in bed and sleep for hours.

He buries himself under his blankets, but just as his eyes flutter closed, the sound of laughter echoes through his room. Your laughter.

He sits up in bed almost immediately, a grin etched onto his lips. He still remembers the day he found out his walls were paper thin; the day you touched yourself while he was streaming. He knew you were so sure you had been quiet — only letting out small whimpers and sighs — but he heard you regardless, and your pretty noises made it even easier for him to come that night. He initially assumed you were simply masturbating, but when you came knocking at his door the very next day to complain about how noisy he was, he knew you were touching yourself to the sound of his voice.

Hyunjin has fucked many women in his life, but for that silly fact alone, none piqued his interest quite like you did.

He rests his back against the headboard, ready to listen to you complain on the phone to some friend, grumbling about how fucking awful your date had been. But a masculine voice suddenly permeates through the wall, filling his room with the sound of your date’s obnoxious laughter.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” he slurs, clearly a bit tipsy.

“Me too,” you giggle, and Hyunjin’s face twists into a scowl. Since when do you giggle like that?

He hastily yanks the covers off his body, rushing to settle into his computer chair in a shameless effort to hear your conversation more clearly.

“Sorry I laughed when you spilled your drink on your dress,” the guy — whose name Hyunjin frankly didn’t care enough to memorize — apologizes before adding, “Do I make you that nervous?”

And it’s like Hyunjin can hear the smirk in the man’s voice. Why the fuck must this annoy him so much? Couldn’t you go back to his place to fuck? Maybe you’re pissed at him over the bet, and this is a desperate attempt to prove you’re right. He scoffs, running a hand through his hair before reclining on the chair.

Just means you’ll be having mediocre sex while he listens.

“Of course I was nervous,” you reply. “Look at you, this shirt’s been driving me crazy since you picked me up.”

The man snickers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you state matter-of-factly, “Kept looking at your arms the entire night. Couldn’t think straight,” your voice drops to a whisper, and Hyunjin could recognize the alluring lilt that envelops your voice from a mile away.

You use it with him almost every night.

Your date hums. “Oh, you like my arms?”

And Hyunjin can just picture the man flexing his muscles. What a fucking idiot.

His room is filled with the creaking sound of your bed, and he physically cringes. He can’t believe you’re really gonna make him listen to you fuck another guy. He especially can’t believe you so easily let this fucker into your bedroom. Hyunjin has known you for eight months, and you still adamantly insist that your bedroom is off-limits.

Maybe this is his long-overdue punishment for making you lose sleep for a month.

Your room suddenly falls into an odd stillness. All Hyunjin can do is sit in the dark, consumed by the incessant ticking of his clock, unable to tear his gaze away from the wall in front of him. His mind becomes his own worst enemy, flooding his imagination with vivid images of you laid out underneath this man, his arms you seemingly love so much caging you between the mattress and his body while his lips explore every inch of your skin. Or maybe you’re on top, rolling your hips in that slow, tantalizing rhythm that drives Hyunjin mad while looking at him with lust-clouded eyes.

The sound of you softly whimpering shakes him out of his thoughts, and Hyunjin subconsciously clenches his fists. Despite hearing the guy talk to you again, all he makes out is a jumble of garbled, muffled sounds.

He isn’t sure how long he stays there, eyes boring holes into the wall until his vision goes blurry and gnawing on his lips until he tears at the delicate skin. His ears sting with the sound of your bed frame hitting your shared wall, and your sighs and moans he loves so much only seem to mock him.

When the sardonic symphony eventually fades into silence, Hyunjin remains where he is. He feels powerless; he can’t stop how his heart weighs heavy in his chest or do anything but feel the scorching flame of anger searing his veins.

He’s memorized your date’s name by now — Jihoon, as your voice repeatedly called out.

For the first time in so long, Hyunjin was no longer in control.

Hyunjin struggles to conceal his annoyance when you show up at his door the next day as if nothing had happened. The hickey he gave you no longer being concealed by makeup and your ever-present grin only added to his aggravation, as if you were relishing in his agony. He wants nothing more than to fuck that smug grin off your pretty lips, but he can’t bring himself to touch you. Not when his ego is bruised by how easily another man could please you.

After all, that was all Hyunjin had to offer. Why were you even here in the first place? If you had already found someone else to fuck you, he had nothing more to give you.

Sitting on his couch, Hyunjin’s frustration gets the best of him, and he’s the first to break the silence.

“I don’t even gotta ask if you had a good time last night,” he sneers, and you stifle a chuckle, trying but ultimately failing to keep a straight face.

“Yeah, the restaurant was nice.”

Hyunjin can’t contain the scoff that escapes his lips, his mouth curling in disdain. “You know damn well I’m not talking about the restaurant.”

You cock your head to the side, brows knitting together as you put on your best act of naivety.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” You ask, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Hyunjin is pushing your body onto the couch before he realizes what he’s doing, the rage he felt last night no longer laying dormant in his bloodstream. He cages you against the cushions, his hands resting beside your body. You instinctively spread your thighs to accommodate him.

“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?” He asks, bending his face to yours. You shrug with a contented sigh, lifting your arms to wrap around his back.

Hyunjin scoffs, and you let out a yelp as he abruptly hoists your legs over his shoulders, fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs. He leans down to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth but pulls away before you can register to kiss him back, leaving you to chase after his touch.

“Is this how he fucked you?” He asks with a hum, his lips hovering mere inches above yours. His hold on your thighs becomes bruisingly tight as he waits for your answer. “Hm? Did he fuck you good?”

“We were both tipsy,” you murmur, breath hitching as he pushes his hardening member against your clothed core. “It was okay.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips, and Hyunjin mockingly pouts. “So he wasn’t the sex god you were promised, baby?”

You roll your eyes. “I just said it was okay.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, his gaze transfixed by the way your eyes look up at him while you subtly roll your hips up into him. He’s not stupid, he knows the reason why you have such an infuriating effect on him. He’s never going to be good enough for you outside of being a good fuck, yet he feels a blooming yearning inside of his chest that makes him selfishly want to keep you to himself. Even if he has nothing else to offer you.

So he chooses to swallow his pride, just this once, to prove to you why you should choose to stay and stop searching for pleasure in other men — because Hyunjin knows you will find much more than that in them. Much more than what he has.

“‘Okay’ isn’t what you deserve,” He tuts, his mind slowly fogging over with desire as you roll your hips harder against his length. “Isn’t what you’re used to after all these months, is it? Hm?” He urges, raising a hand to lightly brush against your jaw before gripping it. “Answer me.”

Hyunjin knows you’re struggling not to give in; that’s one of his favorite things about having sex with you. The push and pull, how you try so hard to act tough and unbothered but ultimately melt under his touch every time. Even so, he was only able to truly break you for the first time a couple of months ago. You’re obstinate, he’ll give you that.

You shrug again, and he knows it’s the only answer he’ll get from you for now.

“Are you gonna see him again?” He asks instead.

You let out a quiet sigh as Hyunjin lazily grazes your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t think so.”

“Yeah?” He asks, arching a brow almost knowingly. “I can’t help but think you only brought him home to make me listen to you.”

And you giggle at that. The same overly sweet, coy giggle Hyunjin heard through his wall last night.

“I guess you’ll never know,” you simply answer, running a hand through his hair and lightly gripping a fistful while your eyes flicker down to his lips.

Hyunjin wastes no more time talking to you — he knows your conversations usually lead nowhere. He crashes his lips into yours, fingers gripping your jaw once more and forcing your lips open, his tongue slipping inside your mouth. You whimper into the kiss, a sound he knows slipped past your lips unwittingly. Your tongue swirls against his, and he savors your taste with a low hum.

You tilt your hips up, chasing after him again and whining when Hyunjin moves out of reach. He smiles.

“You want me to give you what you’re used to?” He asks against your lips, and you’re quick to nod. “So fucking greedy, made me listen to you get fucked last night only to come running back to me.” He slides his hands under your ass and picks you up effortlessly, carrying you toward his bedroom with an exasperated sigh. “Would’ve been easier if you just admitted no guy will ever be as good as me, wouldn’t it?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl, but your words are cut short as Hyunjin throws you onto his bed and promptly walks to his wardrobe. “At least Jihoon got to it quick. I’m not one of your viewers, I don’t care much for your chatter.”

Hyunjin lets out a hearty laugh, retrieving a small blue box from among his clothes and sitting at the edge of the bed. “He got to it quick? Is that your way of telling me your date was a one-minute man?”

You open your mouth as if you’re ready to refute him but ultimately close it and cross your arms over your chest, willing him to do something. Hyunjin stifles another laugh.

“Good thing you have me, then,” He mutters, the goading lilt to his voice impossible to disguise. Placing the box on his nightstand, he hovers over your body once again. “I got all these toys, and we never got around to playing with them together.”

You visibly shudder, nodding slowly as Hyunjin looms over you. He slots your lips together once more, this time much more softly. Your tongue lightly brushes against his bottom lip, licking into his mouth as your thighs wrap around his hips, hooking your ankles behind him and drawing his body flush against yours.

With each languid and deliberate stroke of his tongue, Hyunjin revels in the way he can feel you grow more impatient, tugging at the fabric of his shirt and rutting your hips against his. His hands slip under the hem of your shirt to grip your waist, easing your movements. The way his cock strains against his sweatpants becomes impossible to ignore as his hard length presses against your warm core harder and harder with each roll of your hips.

Hyunjin’s hand glides from your waist to your stomach, caressing your skin before finding its way to your cunt, fingers harshly pressing against your clothed wetness. You whimper into the kiss as he lazily circles your clit over the fabric of your shorts.

“Let’s make a deal,” Hyunjin whispers as he pulls away. “You admit I’m the best fuck you’re ever gonna have, and I might let you come.”

He punctuates his words with a firm press of his fingers to your clit, and he can visibly see your resolve crumbling before him, but you still force out an indignant huff.

“In your dreams,” you shakily breathe out.

Hyunjin shrugs, his fingers leaving your core and traveling over the expanse of your stomach. He promptly rids you of your shirt, and you hiss as his hands brush against your sensitive nipples, Hyunjin watching as they immediately stiffen in response.

Your habit of not wearing a bra nearly drives Hyunjin insane — even on the first day you came knocking at his door, he remembers having to fight the urge to glance down at the way your nipples peaked beneath the fabric of your white shirt.

You’ve been driving him crazy since you walked into his line of sight.

Hyunjin lightly massages your breasts before grazing your hardened nipples with his thumbs, swiftly sucking one into his mouth, causing sighs to spill from your lips as your hand tangled in his hair. He flicks the stiff bud with his tongue before grazing his teeth over it, and you roughly tug at his roots. He smiles against your skin, nudging the peak of your nipples with his lips and sighing.

“Say it,” he calmly tells you, but your only response is tugging harder at his hair. “You’re so stubborn,” He chides, tugging his shirt over his head. “I told you, you’re only coming if you fucking admit it.”

He slowly moves onto the foot of the bed, his hands roaming along your legs with featherlight touches. He places wet kisses from your stomach to your inner thighs, sucking lightly at the skin until his lips hovered tantalizingly close to your still-clothed, aching cunt. And then he stops, instead pressing a kiss to your hips.

“Hyunjin,” his name falls from your lips as a breathy whine. He looks up to find your gaze already on him, eyes silently pleading. He grins, thumbs drawing circles on your inner thighs as you push your hips into his face, but he promptly pulls away. “Please,” you finally whisper, although barely audibly.

Hyunjin hums, satisfied, pressing a wet kiss to your core through the fabric of your shorts before sliding them down your legs along with your panties. He hisses through his teeth at the sight of your wetness, thumbs gliding up and down your folds before spreading you before him. His tongue immediately pokes out to travel up your slit before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit, sucking harshly, and your hand soon flies to rest on his head.

He lifts his eyes once more, humming against your folds as he finds your head rolled back onto his pillows, lips falling open as you softly mewl. He could listen to your sweet sounds all night, reveling in the way every flick of his tongue made you become louder and louder until you were all but screaming his name.

But he has to teach you a lesson tonight.

His tongue delves deep into you, gliding against your slick inner walls, causing even more arousal to flood his lips. His eyes flutter closed with a pleased hum, lapping up every drop of your wetness.

“Fuck,” you rasp, and Hyunjin knows you’re close.

With a wicked grin, he slips two fingers into your warm cunt, curling them just the way you love while his tongue expertly circles your clit. When you roll your hips against his lips, yanking his head toward your body, Hyunjin pulls away.

He watches as your eyes shoot open and you frown at him, but he simply grins, thumb wiping at his glistening mouth before slipping the digit into your agape lips.

“Say it,” he repeats, unrelenting, and stifles a laugh when you groan loudly.

You hook a leg around his waist, bringing his body close to yours again, the heat of his thick cock pressing against your soaked cunt. Hyunjin sucks in a breath, focusing on reining in his emotions, determined not to let you win. His mind is already completely clouded with lust, desperate to fuck you into the mattress, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction of watching him give in to you.

He bends his face to yours, gasping out a curse as he watches the way you swirl your tongue around his finger with a hum, lazily sucking it while maintaining your eyes locked onto his. He presses the pad of his thumb down onto your tongue, and your lips obediently fall open before upturning into a taunting smile.

You still think you’re in control.

Hyunjin shakes his head, his resolve coming back to him.

His fingers fall from your tongue, and he presses his lips against yours. You melt into the kiss, hands traveling down the expanse of Hyunjin’s abdomen, then back up to wrap around his broad shoulders. He lets you do as you please, rummaging through his box until his fingers brush against what he’s looking for. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, ultimately distracting you, and you let out a small whimper, which grows into a loud groan as he presses the blunt tip of the massaging wand to your clit and switches it to the medium setting.

“What the fuck,” You all but growl into his lips, and Hyunjin hums.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

You let out a shuddering sigh. “T-Too much,” you whimper, hands scrambling for Hyunjin’s arms in an attempt to ground yourself, but ultimately clawing at his bedsheets.

He glides the wand along your drenched folds, moving up and down, eyes transfixed on the way your arousal drips out of you and coats the toy. Your entire body jolts when he harshly presses the vibrating tip directly onto your clit. He could come just by watching you squirm underneath him, loud groans falling from your lips. How he wished Jihoon could be in your room, listening to how beautiful you sound when you’re actually being taken care of properly.

Hyunjin feels his cock twitch every time your body shudders, trying to escape the relentless vibrations, sticky precum gathering in his sweatpants and increasing his discomfort. He desperately wants to fuck you.

With a low grunt, he leans in closer to you, pinning your arm to your side and flicking his wrist as he presses down harder on your swollen clit.

“Got no idea how pretty you sound, do you?” He hisses, “If only you weren’t such a fucking brat and just — fuck.”

His words dissipate when your free hand wiggles between your bodies and pulls down his sweatpants, freeing his cock. Your fingers immediately wrap around his length, squeezing him tightly before frantically stroking him. The sounds that echoed through the room were lewd, unmistakable evidences of both your arousals.

Hyunjin pulls the wand from your clit, turning down the vibrations and letting it rest against one of your peaked nipples while he grips his cock in his fist, the swollen tip prodding at your entrance, just barely pushing in. You whimper loudly, clutching his arm, fingernails digging crescent moons into his pale skin.

“Come on,” he growls, cock now gliding up and down your slit. “I know you wanna come, just fucking say it.”

But you’re unrelenting, staring into his eyes and weakly shaking your head.

Hyunjin stops his movements altogether, his shaft nestled against your soaking cunt, the head of his cock resting heavily on your clit. He presses the wand down onto his length, increasing the intensity to the highest setting. A loud, broken moan falls from your throat as your shaky hands grip his wrist, your back arching off the bed. You try to push the toy away, but Hyunjin’s free hand wraps around your neck, effortlessly pinning your pliant body down onto the mattress.

He presses his forehead to yours, his sweat dripping down onto your breasts as he fights off his orgasm.

“Fucking say it,” he hisses, tears gathering in your lashes. The unyielding vibrations from the wand traveling through his cock and going straight onto your clit, coupled with the way his hand tightens around your throat, finally have every bit of your resolve crumbling.

“You,” you choke out, “Best fuck I’ll ever fucking have, Hyunjin, god — I wanna come, please.”

Hyunjin feels satisfaction enveloping his entire being, and the pleasure intensifies tenfold, his cock twitching and a low groan reverberating from the depths of his chest.

“Come for me, baby,” he breathes out, giving your neck one last squeeze, and your climax erupts from you with a loud cry. As your entire body convulses and your head tilts back, Hyunjin can feel your release coating his cock before dripping onto the sheets below.

As you struggle to catch your breath, your grip on his wrist tightens and your body squirms away from the vibrations, but Hyunjin only presses down harder, seeking his own release. He soon comes with a sigh, eyebrows scrunching together, his cum landing all over your cunt.

He turns off the vibrator, labored breaths mixing with yours as you two come down from your highs.

“You’re fucking insane,” you chuckle after a beat.

And Hyunjin’s lips stretch into a lazy smile. “And you owe me a date.”

You were reluctant at first, having assumed it was simply Hyunjin’s ego talking that night, only teasing you because you were going on a date with someone else when he proposed that odd bet. However, you eventually found out he wasn’t at all joking and actually wanted his ‘prize’ — as he called it — for winning the bet.

Figuring out a date was an aggravating task, given that Hyunjin worked on weekends and you worked on weekdays. You told him numerous times to just let it go; you could simply hang out in his apartment like you usually did and call it a date. It wasn’t anything serious, just another one of his whims.

But Hyunjin’s persistence was unwavering, and he settled for taking yet another day off and canceling his livestream altogether so he could take you out on a Saturday.

Although you weren’t looking forward to it at first, you unknowingly smiled whenever you saw the day marked on your calendar alongside your endless work assignments. It was ridiculous, and you wouldn’t admit it to him, but deep down, you were actually excited about this date. You wanted to know what it’s like to have a conversation that doesn’t end in you two bickering, wanted to know what it feels like to hang out with him without the thought of fucking looming over your heads.

You were strangely excited to get to know Hyunjin outside the four walls of your apartments.

But the Sunday before your date, disappointment washed over you like a cold bucket of water when Hyunjin told you he had to cancel.

What did you expect? You knew Hyunjin. This should’ve been the obvious outcome from the start, but you were stupid and allowed yourself to be swept away by a hope that proved too good to be true.

He waited until he finished his livestream to tell you — as if canceling less than a week before wasn’t already bad enough. Your irritation reached its peak as you sat in his bed and listened to him insist it wasn’t his fault.

“One of the other hosts had a family emergency so he’ll be gone for two weekends,” he explained, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words. Family emergency. Of course.

“Hyunjin, you say that like you don’t take countless days off with no issues,” you refuted, and his frown deepened while he shook his head.

Just say you don’t wanna go on this stupid date.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s not like that. We have rules to follow,” he insisted. “Only one host can be absent at a time. I don’t have a valid reason for bailing on Saturday, so I’m forced to go.”

“Or you’ll lose your precious number one spot?”

“Or I’ll lose my fucking job.”

And you simply shrugged as you ultimately realized that was yet another pointless conversation between you. You then went on to have sex, as you always did when confronted with the threat of a serious conversation, and the topic was forgotten.

At least by Hyunjin.

You spend the next days avoiding him to the best of your abilities. Deep down, you know you’re behaving like a child, but the way you allowed yourself to get excited over something as stupid as a date with him still makes you feel pathetic. It’s impossible not to feel like he raised your hopes only for the pleasure of shutting you down. All because you went out with someone else, and you know that was a blow to his ego.

You two have never been anything more than friends who hook up — and even using that term feels almost comical, seeing as you two can’t have a conversation without it turning into a petty argument or an ego battle — but his insistence on this date, and your own eagerness seemed to hint at something more.

Clearly, you were mistaken.

You brought Jihoon back to your apartment hoping to have mind-blowing sex after a nice date. Plus, you knew Hyunjin would hear you, and you terribly wanted to deflate his ego. A win-win situation in your book. Instead, you had mediocre sex at best. Jihoon skipped foreplay entirely, simply pounded into you, and finished far too quickly while leaving you hanging.

Maybe he was too tipsy to perform well, or maybe the women in your office are living in a depressing reality where a guy’s ability to find the clitoris means he’s a god among men. Either way, even after putting on your best performance, Hyunjin still saw right through you.

And the worst part is, even you can’t explain why you did that. Your mind argues it was all for the pleasure of vexing him; he’s been annoying you since he first moved in next door, after all. But your heart is quick to jump in with a list of facts and reasons why that can’t be the case — all while presenting some valid arguments that lead you to believe you might like Hyunjin more than originally planned.

But he was still Hyunjin at the end of the day. Your egotistical idiot neighbor whose fragile ego you hurt, so he’s retaliating.

After three days of successfully ignoring Hyunjin, one of your friends at work makes all your work crumble with a single phrase.

“I can’t believe we still haven’t gone back to The Siren,” she grumbled during lunch, and you stabbed an innocent piece of broccoli with your fork.

That was all it took to ignite your curiosity.

You sit at your desk later in the day and look up that damn club, telling yourself you simply want to find out why your friends are so desperate to go there. This has nothing to do with Hyunjin.

Upon entering their website, you realize The Siren wasn’t a nightclub as you had imagined; it’s an elegant lounge with a lavish-looking bar you’re sure charged $5 for a bottle of water. As you read the club’s About Us page, the entrance fee almost has you choking on your coffee, despite it being expected for such a place. Among several rules, one catches your eye:

The club allows a maximum of twenty attendees per night, offering a choice of twenty-five hosts.

You gnaw on your bottom lip at the realization that perhaps Hyunjin wasn’t lying, and that was the reason only one host could be absent at a time.

Eventually, you find your way to the Hosts section of the website. You’re a bit taken aback by how these men are presented as amenities, like products displayed at an online shop, with nothing but their names and a picture along with their price.

They’re divided into tiers: gold, emerald, and platinum. Hosts in the gold tier are younger, most likely having just started on the job, and their prices are the most affordable. The emerald tier is more expensive, with some hosts who look old enough to be your father. The disturbing realization dawns on you that these men’s values diminish as they age.

On the platinum tier, only five hosts are displayed, and you blanch at each of their unique prices. Hyunjin is the most expensive, at $500, excluding extra fees. You click on his black and white picture, and a myriad of photos of Hyunjin flood your screen. You’re struck by how different he looks in these shots; his styled hair and impeccably tailored suits look nothing like the man you see at your apartments every day, lounging around in sweatpants and loose t-shirts.

A description sits at the top of the page, short but still enough to make you grimace.

Hyunjin has held our club’s esteemed number-one position for two consecutive years now, and rightfully so. Complementing his striking good looks is an alluring personality that will make you feel cherished throughout the evening. His undivided attention will undoubtedly meet your satisfaction, and his additional services will leave you breathless.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting — you were already aware of the nature of Hyunjin’s job as a host — but the club’s portrayal of these people as mere products leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your curiosity has morphed into frustration as you return to the homepage, but a message catches your eye just as you’re about to exit the website. Three spots are now available for Saturday night due to the absence of one of their hosts. And before you can even process your actions, you’ve already booked these spots for you and two friends.

Thank you for choosing to unwind at The Siren! We will contact you individually regarding further details, including host orders.

Host orders? That is enough to make you close the website.

You can’t believe you’re going to do this. You know for a fact Hyunjin will be upset, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If he wants to toy with your emotions, you have every right to show up at this club.

You wait for Hyunjin to leave for work to get ready on Saturday. You weren’t able to avoid him this afternoon and spent the day lazying around in your apartment, binge-watching some new reality TV show he’s obsessed with.

You expected Hana and Naeun to eat you alive for buying tickets to this overpriced club without consulting them first, but their excitement overshadowed any anger they had. You also played up your excitement, although, by the time your shift had ended, you mostly felt regret for spending all that money purely out of spite.

The email you received explains The Siren has a strict dress code, not allowing any client in unless they’re dressed to their standards.

The patrons are required to match our club’s overall atmosphere.

You rolled your eyes. At least their arrogance fit their ostentatious price.

As you skim through their several other rules, you find out that booking a host isn’t mandatory, and often, hosts will seek out patrons themselves if they’re free for the night.

Be prepared to be approached by one of our available hosts at any given moment. Should you be fortunate enough to capture their attention, that is.

Among the rules, you’re also explicitly told that tipping the hosts anything beyond their set prices is strictly forbidden. The more you learned about this club, the more you struggled to understand why Hyunjin held it in such high esteem.

You bring out your best dress from the back of your closet, hoping you ‘matched the club’s overall atmosphere.’ You let out a heavy sigh as you make it past the What Not to Wear crew guarding the entrance alongside the bouncer, and you are officially in.

“This is your first time here, right?” Hana asks you, linking your arms together. You nod, and she grins before adding, “You’re in for a treat.”

The Siren is exactly what you saw in the pictures, only the dim glow of purple neon lights illuminating the extravagant chandeliers, corner sofas, and opulent decorations you know cost more than your month’s rent.

The owner herself personally escorts every single patron to their seats — a tradition spanning over a decade since the club was first inaugurated. Briefly introducing herself as Taeyeon, the beautiful woman leads you through a long corridor adorned with the hosts’ pictures on the walls. Finally, you arrive at a sofa, where a champagne bottle nestled in an ice bucket already waits for you. She informs Naeun that the host she ordered for the night will be a bit late due to personal reasons, before bidding you goodbye with a smile.

You awkwardly shift in your seat as Hana leaves to fetch you drinks from the bar, and your eyes scan the lounge as it slowly fills up with people. You notice a few of the men you saw on the website parading around the club, a grin etched onto their lips as they lock eyes with a few of the patrons. Other hosts are already tending to their ‘dates,’ sitting beside them on the sofas and attentively listening with warm smiles.

Hyunjin wasn’t lying when he said his job was making lonely women feel wanted.

The club itself is rather boring without the satisfaction of a host pampering you. The slow jazz music playing softly in the background makes you feel almost drowsy, and the dim lighting does little to help. For an hour, you watch as hosts come and go. Some lead their clients toward the bar area, partaking in drinking games with other clients and hosts. Others guide women up the black, shimmering staircase at the back of the club, leaving you to wonder where they could possibly be off to. Thankfully, you’ll have Hana to keep you company when Naeun undoubtedly disappears off to somewhere with the host she ‘ordered.’

Your gaze falls on the sofa in front of you, where a host’s dimpled smile lights up his face as he playfully strokes a woman’s cheek, eliciting a shy giggle from her lips before she continues her story. His intense gaze remains fixed on her face, his hand soothingly trailing down her back while he nods, seemingly enthralled by their conversation. It would be a lie to say coming here after a tiring week at work wouldn’t seem like stepping into a dream. Even if it’s all a well-constructed lie, having a handsome guy cater to your every need and listen to you complain without uttering a word is almost fucking idyllic.

Your eyes then wander toward the back of the club, where a small group of hosts is huddled around a circular table, quietly laughing among themselves. Sitting at the center, Taeyeon’s intent gaze oversees her club’s activities while engaged in a heated phone conversation, her scowl deepening with each word she mutters.

You assume these hosts weren’t booked for the night or are still waiting for their clients to arrive. Just as you’re about to advert your gaze, Hyunjin emerges from a door on the left. His hair is meticulously styled, slicked back to reveal his gorgeous face, and his tall figure is dressed in a white button-up shirt tucked neatly under an expensive-looking black blazer.

Hyunjin has always been beautiful in your eyes, but seeing him exude so much confidence stirs up something inside of you.

His mere presence captivates you so strongly you find it impossible to look away, even as his gaze meets yours. A look of utter bewilderment washes over his face as he stills his movements, looking almost startled. You two fall into an impromptu staring contest as if you’re attempting to communicate with your eyes alone until Naeun taps your shoulder, snapping you out of your haze.

“He’s so fucking hot, isn’t he?”

Your brows knit together. “What?”

“The host you’re ogling at,” Naeun giggles, “I saw him on their website the first we came here, but I was too late so I couldn’t get him to myself. I’m so glad you asked us to come tonight ‘cause I got to order him before he was booked,” she explains, and you feel as if all the air has frozen in your lungs. Hyunjin is the host your friend ordered. “I’m fucking broke now, but I know it’ll be worth it.”

You inwardly grimace at how she talks about Hyunjin, almost like he’s only a shiny toy she couldn’t buy in the past. That, coupled with how booking a host is so casually referred to as ordering, makes you feel a bit nauseous.

Hyunjin eventually walks over to your table, as you knew he would. He’s Naeun’s host for the night, after all. As he slowly strides toward your sofa, his focus remains solely on you. For a split second, his eyes flicker with something akin to sadness before he quickly resumes his usual persona.

He immediately takes Naeun’s hand, kissing her knuckles with half-lidded eyes and a sultry grin. The way he looks at her has the knot in your stomach tightening, aching with the realization that it’s the same way he always looks at you. You were never anything special or significant to each other — you’re well aware of that — but the sting you feel is unbearable for some reason.

Hyunjin sits beside Naeun, and his focus shifts entirely to her. His wandering hands leave a trail of goosebumps from her arms to her bare legs, while his whispered words make her cheeks flush a rosy pink. And it feels as if he’s completely ignoring your presence, which is such a foolish thought you almost feel ashamed. This is his job, but reminding yourself of that every couple of minutes somehow only makes you feel worse.

Because this isn’t a one-time thing, this happens every single time he works.

At some point, while you were too busy engrossed in Hyunjin and Naeun, Hana got a host of her own. With his bleached blonde hair, a constellation of freckles on his cheeks, and a deep, gentle voice, it seems he’s done his job at captivating her. Each host seems to embody a specific persona. From his less-touchy demeanor to the softness in his eyes when he looks at Hana, it’s clear that this guy is going for the caring boyfriend type.

As you remember how available hosts sometimes approach clients themselves, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. If they’re available, no one has booked them for the night, meaning they won’t earn a single dollar. Their focus will undoubtedly be on finding the wealthiest available patron. Hana came from old money, only working at your company after falling out with her family, but her head-to-toe Chanel attire radiates wealth. It’s no wonder this host so graciously chose to sit beside her.

Eventually, Hana is led to the large bar by her host, and the atmosphere in your little space becomes increasingly uncomfortable for you. Your neglected drink is now lukewarm, leaving a damp spot on the hem of your dress as condensation seeps through from where you rested the glass on your thighs.

Hyunjin leaves a few minutes later, taking Naeun by the hand. He briefly turns to look at you, his gaze now nearly unreadable. Only disappointment — or was it hurt? — flashes in his brown eyes before he walks away to lead her up that stairwell.

You sit alone for what feels like an eternity, the once bustling lounge slowly falling into a deafening silence around you. Jealousy and hurt intertwine inside your brain, spinning around in an endless cycle and making your head throb.

You’re only waiting until you’ve finished your way too expensive Cosmopolitan — far too warm to be enjoyable now — when a figure suddenly sits beside you. To your surprise, it’s a host. His styled dark brown hair is messy as if he’s been running his hands through it, and his black button-up shirt has the sleeves rolled up, exposing the veins running along his forearms. He’s hot, there’s no denying, but your sour mood won’t be solved by some eye candy.

“Seems we’re both alone tonight,” he starts, a smile slowly spreading across his lips.

You simply hum, taking a final sip of your drink before placing the glass on the table. You’re not really in the mood to entertain this conversation, so you uncross your legs, ready to leave.

But your movements halt when his hand gently rests on your knee.

“You seem so lonely here all by yourself. Why don’t you come with me?” He offers, and your eyes narrow. He lets out a hearty laugh. “No need to act so suspicious, I’m just making an offer. We’re both alone. What’s the harm?”

To say you were skeptical would be an understatement. You clearly remember his face from the website as he was right beside Hyunjin, at the number two spot of the platinum tier, his price only slightly less offensively expensive.

“I’m Minho,” he offers his hand, which you reluctantly take after telling him your name. After your awkward handshake, you try to pull back, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he places your clasped hands on your lap, his thumb drawing circular shapes on your skin as he continues, “I waited all night for my client to show up. I could really use a distraction.”

Of course.

You take a deep breath, and your gaze shifts towards his face.

“I don’t have money to order you, sorry.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Minho’s lips, his hand leaving yours and finding the skin of your thighs. “How about I make this my treat, then? My client has this habit of ordering me and then ghosting me,” he sighs, “Isn’t that cruel? Taeyeon said she won’t let it fly anymore and is refusing to give her a refund for tonight.”

As Minho’s soft touch glides along your skin, his fingers inching closer to the hem of your dress, your mind replays the scene of Hyunjin’s hand on Naeun's legs. The way he touched her mirrored how he had touched you so many times, and it replayed in your mind like a flickering film. It ignites the flame of ugly jealousy inside of you once more.

“Your treat?” You whisper, and Minho’s face inches closer to yours, your noses brushing together.

“I’d hate for a pretty girl like you to go home unsatisfied,” he whispers.

You’re walking up the gleaming steps of that staircase before you can make sense of what you’re doing. Minho’s hand doesn’t leave your skin for a second, fingers now gliding across your arms as he leads you down a wide corridor. You eye the place curiously, taking in the row of closed, dark wooden doors lining both sides of the hallway.

Minho leads you toward the only door that has been left ajar, and it finally dawns on you what happens on the second floor of The Siren.

The room is not large; a round bed occupies most of the space between the small bar and the dark velvet couch. Following your initial conversation with Hyunjin about this job, he consistently evaded any further questions you asked until you eventually gave up. You always assumed he found the subject boring, much like you did when forced to talk about your own job.

You knew his job as a host meant pampering women, making them feel wanted and tending to their every need throughout the night. It seems your brain conveniently failed to remember that it also implied having sex with them.

“I only fuck them if they’re willing to pay, and I’m expensive.”

You feel a shudder run through your body as those words ring inside your mind. That’s what extra fees meant.

Hyunjin led Naeun up those stairs. It doesn’t take much imagination to know what they were doing at that exact moment.

Minho locks the door behind you, and his strong arms circle your waist, drawing you closer to his body. His gaze drops to your lips, and a smile spreads across his face.

“Is this okay?” His voice is gentle, with no pressure lingering in his words. You know you could say no, go back home, and wallow in your self-pity for the rest of the night.

But you don’t want to do that.

Because you know Hyunjin is currently fucking your friend. And, despite the rational side of your brain screaming that this is his job, it does little to extinguish the searing fire of jealousy that burns under your skin.

So, you allow yourself to fall into bed with Minho.

His touches are almost feather-light, his kisses gentle, and his movements deliberate as he fucks into you.

It feels good, but it’s not what you’re used to.

It’s not Hyunjin.

Hyunjin returned home as soon as he possibly could after his shift.

Any anger was dampened by the sadness and shame he felt because you had to see him at the club. It’s his job, but it’s a job he never truly loved. He feels vulnerable and powerless as a host, a stark contrast to what he feels when camming.

Taeyeon personally scouted him from his livestream. He was twenty and already making enough money to provide for himself. He didn’t need a new job, but the allure of the validation he knew it would provide him was enticing. Compliments and adoration fueled Hyunjin throughout his entire life. He knew it was a bit pathetic, but that was how he was taught to be.

During his training period, Taeyeon and the older hosts instructed him. They taught him how to erase his true self to fit into what would most appeal to clients. That was easy for Hyunjin. He’d already been doing that for most of his life.

He wasn’t tricked into anything. He was given a meticulous explanation of every minute detail of the job and was allowed to set hard limits for anything he wasn’t comfortable doing. Taeyeon treated the hosts like her family, like older and younger brothers she cared for. She provided apartments for those who came into the job with nothing, paid off student debts, and was always willing to listen to their problems.

She would be the perfect boss if not for her love of money.

Every host receives only 5% of any money they make for the club. Hyunjin, as the highest-paid host at The Siren, only makes around $100 per weekend — if he’s lucky enough to have clients booking him for extra services every night.

He knows he’s being exploited but can’t bring himself to quit.

When he first discovered the ranking system at the club, he turned to smoking because of pressure. Naturally, he started at the lowest tier but needed to climb as fast as possible. He was determined to do whatever it took to reach that number one spot. He bleached his hair, splashed out on clothes he didn’t like, and even took up groups of clients per night. Hyunjin had always found comfort in sex. He had complete control of the situation and the satisfaction of knowing he was the reason someone felt good was just another form of validation, like he was loved for as long as the sex lasted.

Sex at the club was never like that. It was a chore, something he did because he had to. It wasn’t anything like camming, and it wasn’t like having sex with someone he actually cared about.

It wasn’t anything like having sex with you.

Seeing you that night only made it harder for him to drag himself up those stairs and do what was expected of him.

Hyunjin got home that night and fell asleep on the couch. He couldn’t be bothered to do anything, especially shower, as the thought of facing his reflection in the mirror was unbearable. Different emotions swirled inside him like a tornado until they ultimately consumed him before he finally dozed off.

He thought he could trust you, thought you knew him well enough to understand why he wanted to keep this part of himself hidden from you. The night he first told you about this job, he put on a mask — like he always did — and put on his best act, playing up his arrogance despite how scared he felt. When you told him that same night he wasn’t anything worth falling for, and that you could be together only until you found something better, he felt as if his heart had shattered for the first time in his life.

That was the night he realized a mask couldn’t protect him from everything. Especially his own heart.

It wasn’t intentional — liking you this much hasn’t been exactly enjoyable. It simply happened. Because you were the only one who ever chipped away at his impenetrable wall and saw the closest thing to the real Hyunjin, yet still chose to stay.

You hadn’t stayed because of his looks; you two never cared about impressing each other.

You hadn’t stayed solely for the sex; you two often got together simply to enjoy each other’s company.

Hyunjin couldn’t be blamed for assuming you had stayed because you knew him. Not the mask he wore or the persona he showed to the world — the real him.

But tonight, even among all the designer clothes and expensive drinks, he felt as if you had just witnessed him at his lowest. And he could only hope you still chose to stay after that.

You’ve barely been awake for an hour when a knock echoes through your apartment. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, because there’s only one person who could be at the other side of the door.

After your jealousy-clouded brain made the asinine decision to sleep with Minho, you’ve locked away any and every thought into a pretty little box inside your mind. You didn’t want to think about what you had done because you knew the remorse would slowly erode your mind. You certainly didn’t want to think about Hyunjin, as even the faint memory of his eyes from the previous night would dig at your heart until it shattered.

But there was nowhere you could hide outside of your mind.

Hyunjin is quiet as you open the door, and he remains quiet as you two sit together on your couch. Your tea sits forgotten on your coffee table, and you focus on the swirls of steam rising from your mug as you endure his silence.

You force yourself to speak when your tea finally goes cold.

“I’m sorry,” you simply say.

Hyunjin’s hands tug at the sleeves of his sweater, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. “Why did you come to the club without telling me?”

“I was angry at you,” You bite your lip, knowing your reasoning is ridiculous. “Because of the date…” you trail off, and Hyunjin turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he walked into your apartment.

“So you thought coming to my work would be a good idea?”

You shrug, instinctively looking away as you feel the intensity of his eyes on you. It was just like when you first met him, only it made you ashamed instead of flustered. You missed that initial lightness, but you knew that was long gone now. Sorting out your issues with Hyunjin was necessary if you ever hoped to have a healthy relationship. If every conversation turned into an argument that would only be avoided through sex, there was no point in dragging this on.

“I wasn’t thinking,” is all you can say.

Hyunjin scoffs. “That was kinda obvious.”

The biting tone in his voice makes you rise to your feet, shaking your head. You put as much distance between you and him as possible.

“What? You wanted me to be rational when I thought you were just playing with me?” You throw your hands up as you blurted out, exasperation consuming any remaining trace of pride within you. “When I thought you were having fun acting jealous and proposing dates only to come up with shitty excuses to shut it all down?”

“Playing with you?” Hyunjin mirrors your words, eyes narrowing as he closes the distance you had created. “I thought you knew me enough to know I mean it when I say something. I wanted to go on that date with you, and I was fucking jealous. That night you forced me to listen to you fuck another guy made me wanna punch my fucking wall.”

You open your lips, but no words come out.

You’re embarrassed. Going to The Siren wasn’t the first childish thing you had done out of spite because of Hyunjin. But your anger was never directed at him. It was always you; for allowing yourself to become so attached to him and like him so much that it drove you mad.

Going on that date simply to rile Hyunjin up, showing up at his job because you felt entitled to when your mind insisted you had been wronged — that was all you and your stupid mind being incapable of accepting the fact that you have fallen for the guy you swore would never be of any significance to you.

The guy you so proudly declared unworthy of falling for.

“Are you really not gonna say anything?” Hyunjin lets out a weak laugh, and when your eyes meet again, his expression leaves no room for doubt this time. Sadness swims freely in his eyes while they well up with tears that he vigorously fights to hold back. “I thought you knew me,” he reiterates. “Thought you stayed because you knew…” He trails off, shaking his head.

As he turns to leave, you instinctively reach out for him. After nine months of knowing each other, you hold his hand for the first time.

“I do know you, Hyunjin,” you blurt out, squeezing his hand when he refuses to look at you. “I stayed because I know you. Beyond your rankings, beyond that club, beyond this damn wall you built around yourself. At least a little bit, I know you.”

He takes a deep breath before his eyes lock on yours again. “I feel like you’ve been tearing down brick by brick of my wall.” He’s the one to squeeze your hand this time. “I kinda fucking hate that.”

You attempt to stifle a chuckle, but it escapes your lips nonetheless. Hyunjin smiles.

“I’d love to know you even more, beyond this mask you wear all the time,” you confess. And you’re tired of hiding behind your own mask, so you tell him, “It’s tiring feeling like I only know half of who you truly are when I already like you so fucking much as it is.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen, surprise eclipsing any trace of his initial sadness.

“What? You like me?” He sputters, and you bite your lips as a smile spreads on your lips.

You cannot believe this is the same Hyunjin whose ego made you want to punch his face.

“Well, no shit,” you chuckle. “Why do you think I put up with you for so long? Don’t you think if I was looking for something better, I would’ve found it already?”

Hyunjin’s lips crash into yours before you can say anything else, his fingertips barely brushing against your skin as he cupped your face.

Your lips part for him, and a low hum resonates from his chest. You wrap your free arm around his shoulder, your hands still tightly intertwined, and pull him closer to you. It’s an awkward position, but neither of you is willing to unclasp your hands.

Hyunjin’s tongue glides languidly into your open lips, making you clutch at his arm as your mind goes dizzy. You had never kissed like this — always too impatient and lust-drunk to savor the feeling of each other’s lips properly.

It sends your entire body ablaze.

He’s pulling away far too soon, tugging at your bottom lip with a small smile.

“I’m not something better, but I’m gonna be,” he mutters against your lips. “For you.”

But you shake your head. “Just let me in. You’re already more than enough.”

In order for your efforts to work, you and Hyunjin established three crucial rules: absolute honesty, open communication, and no fucking until significant progress is made.

You start slowly, with that unfulfilled date that had been the catalyst for you two finally confronting your feelings.

Hyunjin was nervous. The few times he’s gone on dates, his mind was set on wrapping it up as soon as possible to take the person home. It didn’t matter where they went or what they did; every date inevitably led to his bed.

This time was different.

You certainly weren’t expecting to have a picnic on a Saturday afternoon. Your surprise was evident as your eyes widened at the sight before you: Hyunjin, standing at your door with a picnic basket and a digital camera slung around his neck. When you jokingly commented on how that was the most un-Hyunjin thing you had ever seen him do, he nonchalantly shrugged.

As you two sat together under a tree, however, he told you he’s always loved picnics. Growing up near a park, picnics became a family tradition that started when he was just a kid and still happens whenever he visits his parents. The silly smile that was etched onto your lips lingered throughout the entire day. Hyunjin’s closed-off nature made that small piece of information feel like a precious gem you had just collected. It was far greater than any of the pointless conversations you two had in the last nine months.

It felt like watching another brick from his once towering wall shatter to the ground.

Hyunjin quit his job at the club a month after your first date.

He didn’t elaborate on it at first, simply telling you it felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. You had now learned it was best to give him space, as his tendency to shut himself off only worsened if he felt pressured. Deep inside, Hyunjin yearned to share every little detail about himself with you and hear your own stories in return. However, years of keeping everyone at a comfortable distance hindered his ability to open up without feeling vulnerable.

So you only pulled him into a hug, running your hands through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh. You two then set off for your date at a bakery close to your apartments, with the subject seemingly forgotten.

Until Hyunjin suddenly told you the entire truth under a lamppost in front of your building. He whispered that he didn’t want to go home yet, and you found yourselves sitting on the sidewalk as you listened to his story. You weren’t exactly shocked at the information dumped on you, but it still made your heart sore. He was taken advantage of because he longed to feel accepted, to feel loved.

During the elevator ride, you could tell Hyunjin was struggling to hold back tears with every ounce of his strength. You know he was eager to be alone when he pressed a weak kiss to your forehead before heading towards his door. So you reached out for his hand once more and pulled him toward your apartment despite his protests.

That night, Hyunjin struggled to suppress his tears until they ultimately overflowed out of his eyes and down his cheeks as you held him on the couch. Before you knew it, tears unwittingly streamed down your face as well. It was as if your emotions were a mirror image of his.

Another brick down.

You discover Hyunjin’s love for photography by accident.

Everywhere you went together, his camera was draped around his neck. At first, you paid little attention to that detail. His job consisted of being in front of a camera; it wouldn’t be outrageous to surmise he simply enjoyed documenting his daily life. You teased him about it one day as he stopped in front of a flower shop to snap yet another picture. He shrugged, casually telling you he’d been taking pictures since his teenage years, later majoring in photography before dropping out of university.

Unable to tame your nagging curiosity, you urged him to show you his pictures. Nestled deep inside his wardrobe were several boxes filled with photographs he had taken over the years. Most captured the simple beauty of ordinary places and simple things, like the pretty flowers he saw at the shop you walked past, but some showed people candidly laughing while immersed in the happiness of their daily lives in parks or museums.

He wore an unabashed grin on his lips when he opened another box, this one containing around ten developed pictures of you. Among the small pile of photos, one catches your eye: your smiling side profile beaming at a group of kids, a hand shielding your eyes from the sun. You turn the picture around, and the words “First date. I was so nervous, and she was so pretty” are scribbled in black sharpie. Hyunjin groaned beside you, telling you he just jotted down something stupid without much thought. It made you smile like a kid.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a weak chuckle, “I never show them to anybody. None of them are really good, anyway.”

You furrowed your brows at his words, studying his face for any hint of sarcasm. His pictures were beautiful, perfectly depicting how happiness and mundanity often blended into one unbeknownst to people. But Hyunjin noticed, with his camera always ready at the right time for the perfect shot, even with things as small as a snapshot of your first date.

“They’re amazing, Hyunjin,” you told him matter-of-factly. “This is the kind of thing you’d find in art galleries. I can’t believe you keep this talent hidden.”

He shrugs your words off at first, taking a photo in his hand and studying it for a few seconds. His lips curve into a small smile, shyly at first, until his face is beaming as he looks down at his work. You can’t help but smile along, noticing how his cheeks blushed for the first time since you met him.

Another brick down.

In two months, you and Hyunjin went from meeting only at your apartments to going on weekly dates and from pointless bickering to actually understanding each other. The more he opened up, the more you found yourself being vulnerable around him as well.

You learned Hyunjin’s confidence was truthfully a part of him; he simply played it up to a maddening degree to protect himself. He is a confident man, but he’s certainly not the egotistical idiot you once believed him to be.

Your suspicions about him secretly being a softie were also confirmed as you witnessed him cry nearly every time you watched the romance movies he sheepishly confessed to loving. At first, he would sniffle, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat, before excusing himself to the bathroom. A few movies later, he allowed himself to openly cry in front of you for the second time. He’s proven to be a certified crier since then, often laying his head on your chest and silently shedding tears while you played with his hair.

At the end of the day, Hyunjin was a flawed, complex person like any other. He wasn’t always soft and sensitive, but he wasn’t only a cocky and smug little shit, either.

You found you loved both sides of him equally.

Your rules proved to be exactly what you needed, as you only felt closer to Hyunjin each passing day.

But a particular rule became your number one enemy after a month.

Your pent-up sexual frustration seemed to escalate with each passing day, fueling an increasing desire to just say fuck it and climb on top of Hyunjin. It certainly didn’t help that he was even clingier now, long limbs always tangling with yours when you lay on the couch, or his warm body pressing against you while you were cooking. Not to mention that you listened to him livestream every weekend. You opted to wait in his living room — because watching him would just be masochistic — but it felt like you had been transported back in time. Sitting alone for hours and listening to him moan was still as torturous as the first time it had happened. Even if you touched yourself to the sound of his voice, it was never enough.

You knew what you needed, but you have been essentially blueballing yourself for a month now.

As you two lie on your bed, watching another sappy romance movie, you can feel the heat rising inside your body, like a thermometer reaching its peak. You were fully expecting Hyunjin to cry, but this movie turned out to be far more erotic than romantic. His persistent need to have his lips on you — be it with a kiss or with lazy nibbles on your neck — also certainly doesn’t help your suffering.

You power through as you watch the love interests making out while Hyunjin lightly presses his lips to your neck, his body all but caging you against your bed. But the moment the couple heads to the bedroom, hastily undressing each other with heavy pants and sighs, you absentmindedly part your legs. Hyunjin is hovering above you before you can make sense of what’s happening, your laptop carelessly thrown to the side. His body pressed against yours, fitting perfectly between your thighs, as his darkening eyes bore into you.

“Hyunjin,” you have half a mind to say, “Our rule.”

He simply nods, and goosebumps ripple across your body when you feel his hardening member brush against you.

“We made progress,” he states with a grin. “You even let me into your room now.”

“It’s not enough to justify fucking again.”

As much as you were desperate for it.

He swallows slowly, nodding and bending his face to yours. “But our rule says no fucking,” he reasons. “If I make love to you, then it won’t even count.”

“Love?” You whisper, and the thermometer shatters as he presses a long kiss to your open lips.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin smiles between kisses, brushing his lips against yours. “Love.”

It’s not a clear confession, not a beautiful I love you whispered between kisses — but you know Hyunjin, and the sincerity in his voice says everything.

Your fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt as you pull him even closer to you, and he promptly presses his mouth against yours, his tongue teasingly gliding across your bottom lip. Each roll of your hips ignites the heat within you like scorching lava, your desire swallowing you entirely after so long of craving this.

His tongue presses against yours, effortlessly taking control of the kiss, capturing your bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it and traveling toward your jaw. He sucks the sensitive skin into his mouth with a hum, drawing out a whimper from your lips while he moves down the column of your neck. Smiling against your collarbone, Hyunjin alternates between harsh nibbles and soft kisses, leaving blooming rosy spots on every inch of your skin. He travels toward your chest, his hands slipping under your shirt and brushing your skin before tugging off the fabric.

Hyunjin’s hands cup your breasts, your nipples tightening under his attention, and his lips move down your body, placing kisses from your chest to your stomach. His hand eagerly kneads the soft skin of your chest while the other pinches your nipple, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingertips.

“I missed this,” he whispers, voice muffled against your skin, and you let out a shaky breath as a response when his fingers toy with the waistband of your sweatpants. “That was a stupid rule.”

“Shut up.” You let out a breathy laugh. “It was a great rule, it helped us make progress.”

“Fuck progress,” Hyunjin groans, tugging your sweatpants off.

He wastes no time hoisting your legs over his shoulders, causing you to shudder and goosebumps to ripple through your body when his lips close around your clit without warning. His tongue licks long stripes up the length of your slit, his fingers spreading you open so he can lap at your arousal with a low hum. Hyunjin’s thumb rubs circles around your clit as his lips find your inner thighs, sucking and biting at the skin, leaving another blushing trail of his yearning for you.

His tongue delves into your wetness, savoring you with tantalizing, pleasure-filled groans that travel through your cunt. The insistent throb between your thighs intensifies, your hand tugging at his hair and your hips rolling into his touch as you arch your back. Hyunjin’s fingers dig into the skin of your thighs while you reach your peak, his teeth pulling your clit gently as you come with a broken cry.

Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are heavy with lust when he looks at you, his firm grip keeping your legs over his shoulders.

“You still think that rule was great?” Hyunjin gives you a lopsided grin that almost has you rolling your eyes, only he presses one last kiss to your sensitive clit, rending you unable to do anything but mewl and tug at his hair. He chuckles, pressing his lips to your inner thighs once more, his eyes still locked onto yours.

You needed him closer, his strong arms surrounding you and his scent enveloping your senses until you felt dizzy. The mere thought of his cock has you clenching, arousal trickling down your slit, and you tug at his hair harshly with a whine.

Hyunjin climbs over you again, tugging his shirt over his head in one fluid movement and crashing his lips into yours, the taste of your release swirling in your mouth as your tongues meet.

“You’re so fucking needy,” he chides. You simply hum, his thick length brushing against your core as he leans down to kiss you again.

“You’re one to talk,” you smirk, breaking the kiss and rolling your hips up into his erection. Hyunjin scoffs, his hands capturing your wrists and pinning them over your head, his eyes darkening as he looms over you.

There’s no more push and pull between you two during your daily lives, but it’s something you hope never fades away during sex. You’re sure Hyunjin’s need to have control, coupled with your taste for riling him up, will make sure that never happens.

But Hyunjin has no intentions of making you beg tonight — not after so many weeks of making himself cum to the thought of your pretty cunt, knowing that damn rule kept him from actually having you.

He tugs his sweatpants out of his way, one hand still pinning your wrists to the mattress. You bite your lip at the sight of his cock hanging heavily, tantalizingly close to your sopping cunt. Hyunjin strokes himself hastily, clearly having grown impatient, precum dribbling from the ruddy head of his cock and easing the glide of his fist.

The swollen tip slides against your wetness, and he lets out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to yours. The delicious stretch as he presses inside has your hands instinctively reaching out to him. But his grip on your wrists only tightens, keeping them in place as he leans into you, stretching you further with a hiss.

“Fuck, I missed being buried in your cunt,” Hyunjin mumbles, and you moan as his teeth nip at your earlobe. “Always so tight, like you were made for me.”

He sheaths himself inside of you completely, and you arch your back with a groan as his cock twitches inside your sensitive spot.

“Made just for you,” you choke out as Hyunjin slowly thrusts into you, agonizingly slow and deliberate movements making you dig your nails into your palms. “Hyunjin,” his name dissipates into a whine as he pushes his cock in and out of you languidly.

He chuckles against the shell of your ear, and you wrap your legs around his torso, rolling your hips faster against him. The drawn-out moan that escapes his lips has your cunt clenching and leaking more arousal around his length.

“D’you still like the sound of my voice that much?” He hums, and you nod with a sigh. His slender fingers wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “Yeah? Like it when I moan in your ear?”

He finally picks up the pace, pulling back before snapping his hips forward. His lips swallow your moans as he kisses you once, his hand finally releasing your wrists and digging into your hips as he pumps his cock into you. He leaves a trail of wet kisses along your sweaty skin, tracing his tongue along the marks he left earlier.

“You’re mine,” he groans against your skin. “Been dying to say this for so fucking long.”

You gasp at his words, your body jerking when he slips his hand down to circle around your swollen clit. “‘M yours,” you whine, “Fuck me like I’m yours. Please—”

Hyunjin groans, your words igniting a fire within him, and his hips fall into a ruthless pace, pistoning his cock into you while his fingertips expertly stroke your clit. The hot coil of desire in your stomach tightens, finally breaking as your climax surges through every fiber of your being, a million stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“Fuck, you always feel so good,” Hyunjin rasps out, his movements shifting into a messy tempo. “Gonna fill you up, okay?”

You nod with a whimper, your overstimulated cunt clenching around his cock as his thrusts remain unrelenting. With a low grunt that ripples through his chest, Hyunjin’s hips slam into yours, his cock twitching and his grip on your throat tightening. He paints your insides with a final testament that you were his.

He stills on top of you, pressing featherlight kisses to your cheeks and lips, his cock softening inside of you as you stay that way for a while. When he pulls out, his fingers promptly smear his cum over your cunt as it leaks out, two digits thrusting his release back into you with a contented hum.

“Can we still fuck now that I found something better?” You ask him with a grin, and he laughs, burying his head in your neck.

Your mind is wholly clouded with bliss — both from your orgasm and the feeling of love that courses through your veins. You inwardly laugh. Hyunjin fucking you in your bedroom had definitely not tainted it. He had basically transformed your bed into a sanctuary.

Hyunjin helps you shower, gentle hands wash and caress your body before coaxing your third orgasm out of you under the soothing cascading water. He makes you a cup of your favorite tea the way you love it — which he made sure to memorize — and insists you two finish watching the forgotten movie before going to bed. It feels awfully domestic, and it would be a lie to say you hated it.

That night, you fall asleep beside Hyunjin in your bed for the first time; inside a little sacred space you are slowly building with him.

It was never your intention to be his. You were certain Hyunjin was the type of man who would never allow himself to be vulnerable, to truly fall in love with someone without his ego getting in the way. By keeping him at arm’s length, you believed you were guarding yourself from inevitable heartache.

Behind his cocky smirks and self-assured words, an amazing man hid himself out of deep-seated fears of rejection, unworthiness, and not being loved for his true self. Each day, he allowed glimpses of himself to shine through the cracks in his fortress. He became an enigma you were dying to unravel because you knew he was worth it.

Because you knew him.

And unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin has been yours all along. From the moment you walked into his apartment with a scowl and frustration-filled words, it was as if his heart became wired to crave you. He was simply hoping and waiting for you to become his as well.

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#🌺🦙 hyunjin

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