Wait Omg I Had Reblogged This And Its Teaser! I Didn't Make The Connection In My Brain Until Now, Welp-
wait omg I had reblogged this and its teaser! I didn't make the connection in my brain until now, welp- all systems are now back online. SO CUTE this was the first fic I think I'd directly engaged with the author on
the very first night.
synopsis: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.
pairing: kim mingyu x female reader genre: exes to lovers, roommates!au | romance, angst, smut word count: 19.7k
warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, protected sex) please let me know if i missed anything! note: title is the song 'the very first night' by taylor swift. thank you for reading! :) (and i apologise for the wait; this fic is long overdue)
ONE
You think that all the decisions you’ve made in your life so far have all boiled down to this one moment.
Karmic retribution, if you will.
Despite the six months for which you and your ex-boyfriend have been separated, Kim Mingyu looks the same. The same floppy hair that never quite sits flat on his head—though he’s let it grow a tiny bit, and now it curls behind his ears—and the same tight-fitting black shirt you swear you tried stealing from him once. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and warm brown eyes that peer back at you. Pink lips which beckon you with a small, yet welcoming smile.
“Hey.” The word drags from his mouth, and he extends the last syllable for a second longer than necessary. “You’re here early.”
Shit. Even his voice sounds the same.
You heft your suitcase and place it by your feet just so you can avoid eye contact. Under different circumstances, Mingyu probably wouldn’t have let you carry your suitcase all the way up the stairs to the third floor—the elevator has been out of commission since before you even met him, and that doesn’t appear to change anytime soon. He probably would have lugged the whole thing upstairs, despite your protests and claims that you’re strong enough to do it on your own. But now, you can only sense his gaze on your figure as you place it securely on the floor.
When you straighten up, he’s still looking at you. He has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes are clouded, almost as if he’s built some kind of impenetrable fortress against you. You have your walls up, too—in the slight clench of your jaw and defiant raise of your chin—and it’s something someone else wouldn’t be able to notice, but you’re sure Kim Mingyu has.
“Yeah. Um.” You attempt to smile, pray it doesn’t visibly appear as a grimace, and gesture behind you with your thumb. “The packers and movers came by pretty early, so everything ended up moving faster.”
“I see.” He purses his lips, evidently running out of things to say. (Good for you, really, because there’s nothing for you to say either.)
You take the chance to glance behind him—a feat in itself, considering how broad his shoulders are—and observe the interiors of what is going to be your home for the next year. Beige walls, the ratty sofa he bought off a garage sale, the television set he originally used to play video games on but ended up using it to watch shows instead—and a potted succulent placed in the corner. That wasn’t there before.
Before you allow your lips to tug up amusedly, Mingyu speaks again. “Is that all? When’s the rest of your stuff coming in?”
“The movers said they’d have everything ready within two days. It might take me longer to get everything sorted out, though,” you reply, aiming your gaze downwards at your suitcase.
It’s an old thing, with fraying fabric and rusty wheels, but it currently contains a fraction of your belongings: Clothes, toiletry, a small pouch where you keep items that have a special significance to you. Only the bare essentials, really. Mingyu had assured you that the room was furnished, with a bed, closet and desk. His old roommate, Minghao, had moved out but left the furniture behind because he had no reason to take them with him—not when he moved in with his girlfriend in her own apartment. All that’s left for the movers to bring over is your bookshelf, your book collection, the rest of your clothes, the Ikea drawer you and your best friend, Park Jihyo, built together, and other smaller items like your desk lamp and office chair.
“That’s okay,” Mingyu says. “Take as long as you need.”
You nod, mumbling a “thank you”, then bend down to pick up your suitcase.
Mingyu moves aside, granting you enough space to roll it across the floor and head over to the side that leads to the Minghao’s old room. Right opposite you is the doorway that leads to Mingyu’s bedroom, and further to the side is the corridor that opens into the kitchen, the small space where he keeps a dining table, and the bathroom.
In a way, you’re glad your room is situated further away from those places. Ghosts of memories linger there, ones that you can’t bear to revisit.
No, it’s better this way; you’re away from everything that you used to consider a second home. Maybe if you close the door behind you, you can pretend like you’re in some kind of void where the only things that exist are you and the bed.
“Wait, Y/N.”
You pause, feeling… something. The way he says your name, so casually, as if it’s second nature to him (it used to be) and nothing has changed at all, has you on edge—not in the good way, but not in the bad way either.
You turn around. “Yeah?”
“Um.” Your ex-boyfriend hesitates for a second. “I’m… going out for dinner with Minghao and some others, is that okay? It might be late by the time I come back.”
“Okay.” Then, feeling the need to clarify something, you say, “You—you don’t have to tell me that. We don’t… owe each other an explanation for where the other is.”
Mingyu stays quiet, and you look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You wonder if he’s going to say anything—or even show any kind of reaction at all.
“Right. We don’t.” His voice is toned down with a kind of uneasiness that you don’t blame him for. Heck, even you feel a twinge of hurt rise up your throat at your own words. “I’ll… let you get some rest.” He nods once, places his hands in his pockets, and walks back to his room.
Your grip on the suitcase handle tightens. Once you enter your room, you let out a pained sigh. You shut the door and turn your back to the wooden blockade that separates you from the rest of the apartment.
This is not going the way you expected—but then again, what had you expected? That everything between you and Mingyu would just vanish and you could talk to him normally without feeling that tiny pinprick of bitterness stab your chest every time you address him? You and Mingyu have a history, filled with good times and bad times, and six months spent away from each other will do nothing to erase that.
You think of what your old roommate, Jihyo, would’ve said. He’s just a boy, Y/N. Make him clean the toilet all the time so he’ll automatically get sick of you.
You smile to yourself, unlocking your phone. Jihyo is probably too busy settling down in her new home in the city she moved to, so she can’t pick up your call. You decide to send her a text message instead.
You switch to the food app, order your favourite dishes from the Indian place a couple of streets away, and toss your phone onto the bed. Kneeling, you unzip your suitcase and unpack the few items you have with you. As you move around, you can already imagine how to decorate the place, how to make it feel more like a home and less like you’re an intruder. The closet is just enough for all the clothes you own—the ones you’ve packed and the ones stored in cardboard boxes yet to arrive. The desk placed opposite to the bed is perfect for when you have to work on your laptop late at night; if you place your lamp on it, you might even forget that you’re not in your old apartment. The bed already has a mattress with clean linen on the bedspread. You place your old Looney Tunes duvet on it.
Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You pause your unpacking to get the door and thank the delivery guy for the food. Mingyu has already left, judging by the lack of noise in the rest of the apartment. You just hope he doesn’t come back home drunk and shit-faced—that would definitely ruin the rest of your night, and the much-needed sleep you require.
You decide not to use the kitchen table, instead opting to take the food containers into your room, where you can eat and watch a show at the same time. It’s lonely, but at least you can have your meal somewhere comfortable.
Your phone rings with notifications. You pick it up, carefully balancing the bowl of curry on your knee.
(19:47) Jihyo: hows the apartment??? did u make mingyu clean the toilet yet?
(19:47) Mingyu: hey, i’m at a thai place. do you want anything to eat at home? i could get something packaged.
You smile at the first text, tense up at the second one, and place your phone down next to you. Not replying to either of their messages might be a bad idea, but right now, all you want is to have your spicy curry and naan in peace—your best friend and ex-boyfriend be damned.
TWO
It’s only after you move in with Mingyu that your separation from Jihyo truly sinks in. Now, there’s no one you can wake up at two in the morning because your period started and you ran out of pads, or gossip about that one campus couple who broke up in public at your favourite boba place.
Not to mention the fact that living with your ex-boyfriend is mildly awkward at best and stupidly melancholic at worst.
It’s been a week, but you and Mingyu seem to have figured out a way to work in tandem. It appears as though neither of you want to see the other—just yet, at least. He goes for a morning jog at six; your alarm rings at six. He comes back reeking of sweat at seven in the morning; you’re getting ready to leave for work by then. You do the dishes on the days he vacuums the apartment and vice versa. It leaves no room for conversation, other than the occasional greetings and small talk when you happen to cross paths.
In fact, ever since you purposefully ignored Mingyu’s text asking if you wanted anything from the Thai restaurant, he’s made a conscious effort at avoiding you.
You nearly jump out of your seat when someone taps your shoulder. “Hey.”
You turn around and meet your co-worker, Lee Seokmin’s eyes. He smiles at you, eyes curving into little crescents.
“Hi,” you say, smiling back automatically.
If there’s one person you can count on to bring a smile to your lips, even if it’s eight o’clock in the morning—at work, no less—it’s Lee Seokmin. His cheerful nature and lively personality is infectious. His happiness radiates outwards in waves that everyone gets swept up on. You might even consider yourself envious of how easily he sways everyone, with that exuberant smile and those good-natured compliments he doles out to everyone like they cost him nothing. (Which they don’t, you suppose.)
“Something on your mind?”
Your smile turns into a grimace. “You could tell?”
He gives you a little half-shrug, still smiling. “You had a weird, serious, think-y face. And before you come at me for think-y not being a real word—I’m very aware of that, thank you—it’s the best way I can describe you.”
“You chose think-y—” you bite back a chuckle— “as the best word to describe me? Come on, Seokmin, you can do better than that.”
“I can,” he agrees, “but only when the situation is appropriate.” His face turns grave, and he continues, “But seriously, Y/N. Did you have a rough night?”
His eyes roam over your face, evident concern shown in the curve of his lips and the slight dip of his eyebrows. You control your wince, wondering if the swollen bags underneath your eyes aren’t as concealed by your makeup as you thought.
Rough week, more like. But you don’t say that to him. “Something like that,” you say.
“You moved out a while back, right? How’s the new place?”
“It’s… good. Close to the supermarket and all that. Everything is within, like, a ten-metre radius, so I don’t have to go very far to get things.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Seokmin says, and you can tell he really means it. “I bet you’re tired, though, with all that packing and unpacking and moving around.”
He bends closer, the front of his loosely tucked shirt just barely touching the back of your chair. This close, you can smell the faint scent of Seokmin’s deodorant and fabric softener. He taps his finger on the arm of your chair. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?”
“Um.” You look back at your laptop and the pile of binders next to it. Seokmin seems to know what you’re thinking, because he huffs and says, “C’mon, I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind if you took a coffee break.”
“I guess,” you return, flashing him a smile when he rolls your chair backwards to give you space to stand up.
Getting up, both of you weave your way to the third floor, where the only functioning coffee maker is housed. The elevator is too crowded and busy for you to use to get down from your position on the seventh floor, so you settle for using the stairs. Throughout the ten-minute walk (which effectively turns into a fifteen-minute one, thanks to him), Seokmin waves and greets every single fellow office worker you pass by. By name.
You roll your eyes and bite your lip to hold back your laugh when a young, female intern—probably still in college by the looks of it—flushes bright red because Seokmin complimented her barrette.
He catches your eye and grins. “What’s so funny?”
You shake your head good-naturedly. “It’s nothing. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”
“What was I doing?”
“Oh, you know,” you say airily, “making everyone fall head over heels for you because you’re just so nice.”
His grin only widens. “You make it sound as though being nice is a bad thing.”
“That’s not what I meant at all,” you protest. “I’m just— Greeting every single person you see? By name? How do you even know everyone in the building?”
“I just check their ID card,” he explains, shrugging slightly. “I read this WikiHow article that said if you speak to people using their name, it creates a good impression and makes you appear more confident than you really are.”
“Really?”
Humming, Seokmin nods, before adding slyly, “I’m not sure what you mean by making everyone fall in love with me, though.”
“Please,” you snort. “You’re way too charming for your own good—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“You think so?”
You can hear the smugness in his tone and you roll your eyes again. “Yes, I think so.”
“Then…” He trails off, gazing at the handrail.
Seokmin’s voice turns softer, more serious. Contemplation bleeds into his features, and when he speaks again, he lacks the bravado he had with all the other people he spoke to on your way down.
“Guess I better work on charming the right people, huh?”
You blink, but before you can digest Seokmin’s words, he gives you another bright grin before rounding the corner and striding towards the coffee machine. You follow, the need for caffeine in your system overriding your instinct to mull over what your co-worker said. Unfortunately, it seems you and Seokmin aren’t the only ones who want coffee; a long queue runs ahead of you. Your coffee break might end up taking longer than you thought.
“So,” Seokmin casually drawls, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his ID card’s lanyard. “Do you want to talk about your rough night?”
“I…” You pause and consider.
Should you tell Seokmin? You trust him enough—you’ve known him for as long as you’ve been working in this company—and he’s always been friendly to you, offering you a ride home when both of you work overtime and paying for your food on the occasional visits to a café or a coffee shop. Besides, he’s the closest person you have to a friend, now that Jihyo lives in a different city and you can’t call her up whenever you feel like it. You decide to tread the waters first, only telling him the bare minimum.
“Hypothetically speaking,” you begin, “if you move in with someone you don’t like but have known for years, what would you do?”
“That’s a tough one.” He scratches his chin, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on the kind of past you share, y’know? But either way, I would try to… make peace with them, I guess. Like a ceasefire. Offer them an olive branch. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He grins knowingly at the last bit and you shove his shoulder.
What Seokmin said makes sense. You and Mingyu are living together; your past relationship shouldn’t come in the way of talking to each other. But it does, so much more than it should. Try as hard as you might, every time you think of Kim Mingyu, the first thing that comes to your mind is all the kisses you’ve shared, the way his arms feel around you, how both of you broke the promises you made to each other—all because you were too proud and he was too stubborn.
You still are proud. For all you know, Mingyu might still be stubborn.
What a pair, you think drily.
You and Seokmin shuffle forwards. He stays silent, allowing you to process your thoughts and wonder how, exactly, you’re going to get over Mingyu and talk to him without feeling like your stomach is twisting into a million knots.
Once you reach the coffee machine, Seokmin hands you a cup. “It’s hot,” he warns, before carefully handing you the styrofoam cup filled to the brim with the bitter brew. You cautiously take a sip, wincing when you almost burn your tongue and make a face at your co-worker when he chimes, “I told you.”
The walk back to your floor doesn’t take as long as the walk down. Before you part ways, Seokmin offers you a small smile and a pat on your shoulder.
“If you’re wondering how to approach your roommate,” he says, lowering his voice, “maybe start off by offering them food. Works like a charm every time.”
Food. Yeah, you can manage that. Dinner with your ex-boyfriend.
Should be a piece of cake.
THREE
Asking Mingyu if he would like to have dinner with you is decidedly not a piece of cake.
When he comes back home from work, Mingyu has only one trajectory: Travel in a straight line from the door to his bedroom, offering you a tight smile if he sees you along the way. His bag is always slung across one shoulder and his shirt is always untucked and his hair is always a wild mess. If his appearance wasn’t achingly familiar, you would probably laugh every time you see his unruly figure.
It takes a week for you to muster up the nerve to look Mingyu in the eye, after your conversation with Seokmin. He’s been pestering you incessantly, almost exactly like Jihyo. When you told her about Seokmin’s suggestion, she had been nothing short of enthusiastic. Your phone has been blowing up constantly with texts from her, egging you on and on and on to make a move first and raise the (hypothetical) white flag.
“If you keep putting it off, you’re going to be very miserable for the rest of your immediate future,” was her reasoning when you called and spoke to her on the phone three days ago. “But also if you don’t fucking ask him to have a meal with you within the next week, I will fly over and have you both sit in a room, alone, and force you to talk.”
Both the options are pretty much the same. You didn’t have the energy to tell Jihyo that.
It’s on a Monday evening that you catch Mingyu and pop the question. A Monday evening that’s insignificant, really. Almost laughable at how normal the evening is. Mingyu unlocks the door, closes it while toeing his shoes off, and gives you the same tight smile—one where it doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw is slightly clenched, and his lips thin into almost straight lines.
“Mingyu.” Your voice comes out breathless, like you’ve been jogging for miles before coming to a stop in front of him. He pauses, wind-ruffled hair framing his face in cloudy wisps.
“Yeah?”
“I—uh—” you force the words to tumble out of your lips, before you can overthink— “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”
Mingyu purses his lips, looking at you warily. He’s careful, cautious, when he asks, “Is… there any special reason?”
You swallow. “No,” you say honestly, not allowing your eyes to tear away from his. “There isn’t. But I tried making lasagne today, and I would like to share it with someone.”
For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, only lets his bag fall into the crook of his arm. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let me just change and wash up.”
You nod, making your way to the kitchen to bring out the casserole. You’re not usually one for cooking—you prefer ordering takeout because it’s easier and they make the food better than you, anyway—but simply ordering food didn’t sit right with you. Lasagne is a dish you’ve made a few times before, and you would rather make something you’re familiar with instead of trying to whip up something new.
When you go back into the kitchen, you find Mingyu already there, bent over an open cupboard’s door as he fishes out some plates and cutlery. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, fringe falling freely over his forehead and obscuring his eyes.
“Are our regular plates okay or do we need the china ones?” he asks, still bent over.
“Why do we need china plates? Wait, why do you even have china plates with you in the first place?”
He looks over at you and shrugs. “Dunno. Minghao had a china cutlery phase, I think.”
That does sound like a phase Xu Minghao would have.
“The regular ones are fine.” You don’t want to risk breaking Minghao’s precious cutlery.
While Mingyu wipes the plates with a dishcloth, you grab two mugs and pour orange juice from the fridge into them. You take one in each hand and follow Mingyu to the kitchen table, placing both of them on either side.
“Orange juice?” Mingyu’s eyebrows are raised.
“Yeah. So?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrows as well.
But he doesn’t say anything against your choice of beverage, only shrugs and mumbles, “We should really stock up on alcohol.”
Your lips twitch. You don’t allow yourself to smile.
Instead, you pull your chair back and sit down, steepling your fingers in front of you. Mingyu piles some food onto his plate. For some reason, you feel weirdly nervous. What if it’s not as good as you think? What if he doesn’t like it?
You shake those thoughts away. This is Kim Mingyu. Even if the food was bad, he wouldn’t tell you; he would only grin, compliment your culinary skills, and continue to eat despite everything.
“Is it… good?” you ask tentatively, after he takes a forkful into his mouth and chews deliberately.
He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “It’s great. Really good,” he affirms, and you can hear in his voice that he means it.
Well, almost.
It’s the slight dip and intonation of his tone, but it’s one you’re familiar with. You narrow your eyes at him. Mingyu continues eating, oblivious to your glare. In fact, he shovels more lasagne onto his dish and eats with more gusto, pausing every now and then to gulp down some orange juice.
“Really?” you say casually. “I’m glad. Maybe I should try some too.”
Mingyu’s reaction is so instantaneous, it’s almost comical. His eyes widen by a fraction, and he immediately reaches for the casserole. “You should definitely try some,” he says. “But it’s so good, I wanna have some more.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, watching Mingyu stuff more food into his mouth before deciding to put him out of his misery.
“Mingyu. Tell me the truth. How’s the food?”
He pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth and answering with a subdued, sheepish smile:
“It’s too salty.”
FOUR
“Why are you leaving so early?” Jihyo’s voice crackles through your phone placed on your bed.
“Seokmin said he wanted to try out the croissants at the new bakery that opened nearby,” you reply, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. “He also said he wanted to buy a baguette so that he could whack his roommate with it. Something about going all the way to Paris to buy it but his roommate used it to hammer a nail into the wall and broke it.”
A pause, and then, “Is his roommate okay in the head?”
“Good question.” You grin at your reflection in the mirror, pat down the hair at the back of your neck, and grab your phone. “I’m heading out now. I’ll text you later.”
“’kay,” your best friend says. “Tell Mingyu I said hi.”
“I will,” you say, but you already know you’re not going to greet him on behalf of her.
Things between you and Mingyu are… still pretty much the same, honestly. After that dinner fiasco, you’ve been too embarrassed to properly address him, and he’s not made much of an effort on his part. Or maybe you’ve been consciously avoiding him so much that he doesn’t get a chance to put his foot forward. Either way, your cheeks still burn up whenever you think of that night’s dinner, so for now, hiding in your room is quite possibly the only way you can prevent yourself from catching fire completely.
Stupid logic. You’re a grown adult, with the ability to make good judgements and make decisions. Unfortunately, your decisions are mostly borderline idiotic.
Shouldering your bag, you leave your room and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There’s a Post-It note stuck on the refrigerator. Peeling it off the fridge’s door, you read it curiously.
Got some cookies from Minghao’s friend’s bakery. I’ve kept them in the pantry. Enjoy! :)
Mingyu’s familiar scrawl is branded into your head, and seeing the yellow square of paper makes nostalgia bubble inside your chest like a bath bomb dropped into a bathtub filled with water. You pocket the note, and smile so widely, your cheeks hurt.
Maybe he’s put his foot forward, after all.
Seokmin is already waiting for you outside your apartment building by the time you go out. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing happily.
“Hi,” you greet him. “Did you wait long?”
“No.” Your co-worker shakes his head, still smiling. “I just got here, actually.”
“I’m glad.” You return his smile. “Should we head out?”
Seokmin nods. “Of course,” he says, and you fall into step with him.
He has a never-ending list of topics to talk to you about—and for the most part, you’re glad that he’s so outgoing. In twenty minutes, you’ve learnt almost everything there is to know about his roommate, Jeonghan, his older sister, his fear of ladybugs (you snort out loud at that particular anecdote), and his favourite anime (Haikyu!! and One Piece). In return, you tell him about that time you and Jihyo accidentally walked into the wrong restroom at a bar, and how you got dumped by your high school crush because he thought you were better than him at playing basketball.
It’s comfortable. Talking to Seokmin always is.
But you still don’t talk about Mingyu. You try hard to stop thinking of him, but he’s always there at the back of your mind, an unopened gift that you don’t unwrap.
Finally, you and Seokmin round a corner and find yourselves standing in front of the just-opened bakery. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the open door. An array of different types of breads and other desserts is placed carefully on a display at the counter, and the owner greets you with a welcoming smile.
“What do you want to have?” Seokmin asks, holding your elbow and leading you in.
You eye the basket of croissants. The buttery confection looks delicious, but so does the tray of muffins placed next to it. And the bagels placed beside the muffins. “I can’t decide.”
“How about one of everything?”
You glance at him to see if he’s joking, but Seokmin looks completely serious. “You’re kidding, right?” you say, grabbing his arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you buy one of everything in this store!”
“I would,” Seokmin admits, a flush creeping up his neck, “if you asked me to.”
You groan. “Seokmin. Please don’t.”
“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, if you wanted me to—”
“One croissant, please,” you interrupt, addressing the owner. “To go. And he will have…”
“Make that two croissants,” Seokmin finishes. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.”
“How gentlemanly of you.”
“I know.”
Seokmin pays for his croissant, and you pay for yours. The owner wraps them up and hands them to you, asking you to visit again. Once you exit, you unwrap yours and take a small bite. The bread is soft and melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet aftertaste. You take another bite, and it’s only then that you notice Seokmin looking at you, a corner of his lips turned upwards in a crooked smile and one hand in his pocket.
“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”
“No,” he replies. “I just… I would really love to do this again, Y/N.”
Oh.
Seokmin looks at you so hopefully. Like he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Like he needs to get something off his chest. Like he never wants this moment to end.
“...I’d like that, too,” you say.
Somehow, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, one that even another mouthful of the sweet snack can’t erase.
FIVE
It’s getting late, and yet Kim Mingyu is hellbent on getting you to keep him company. The worst part is that it’s working—though you would never admit that to him.
Being friends with your ex isn’t that uncommon. You and Mingyu can be friends. But how long are you willing to put up with this ruse before it all blows up in your faces? Friendship between two people who used to date isn’t that much of a big deal—but that’s just it, isn’t it? You and Mingyu weren’t just two people who used to date.
How did you even let him talk you into spending time with him? Or maybe that’s all on you; you’ve never been able to say no to him. One minute you’re looking at his face and remembering the lasagne gone wrong, the next he’s asking if you want to watch a movie with him. Except neither of you have updated your Netflix subscription, so this was a bad idea all along.
Maybe talking to Mingyu is a bad idea.
Maybe you should go back to your old ways, locking yourself up in your room and only acknowledging his presence when you happen to cross paths.
But the socialite in you nags, what if he thinks you’re some kind of hermit who only comes out to eat and drink? Besides, he’s here now, right next to you on the sofa—keeping a respectable distance between your bodies—as he watches a rerun of America’s Next Top Model because it was the least shitty thing playing on all the channels you scrounged through fifteen minutes ago.
Normally, you would be elated at the idea of poking fun at random reality shows, expressing your exasperation at the poorly-written scripted drama and the even worse acting. But even if the showoff between two aspiring models both named Jessica and sporting the same colour of fake tan and bleached blonde hair was somewhat interesting, you find your gaze keeps wandering to your ex-boyfriend.
You trace the contours of his face with your eyes—the cheekbones that jut out only slightly, the furrow created on his forehead as his eyebrows kiss, the way his honey-brown eyes stare at the screen in front of him with a focused intensity. Even the way his lips curve ever-so slightly upwards, despite him pressing them together, has you recalling just how soft they felt against your own.
His warm, soft skin. The prominent collarbone that you used to press small kisses to whenever you wanted to get his attention. The moles scattered all over his body, creating a canvas for you to paint on by tracing them with your fingers. The flex of his fingers as he bunches them into a loose fist.
Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.
Even this semblance of friendship that has bridged the drawn-out distance between you both feels strange—as though somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you recognise that this camaraderie is either a really good thing or could go extremely wrong. You’re in the middle of that bridge, trying your best not to lean too much to the right or to the left, but even a slight misstep could lead to everything going downhill.
“Are you rooting for Jessice H. or Jessica C.?”
“Huh?” You blink, escaping your haze of thoughts. “I’m sorry—which one is which?”
Mingyu glances at you with a deadpan expression. “We’ve been watching them trying to one up each other for the past ten minutes.”
“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “Both of them look the same to me.”
“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, before returning his focus to the show. “It’s the fake tan, isn’t it? Although the hair is similar too… No wonder they’ve been arguing about who put on their mascara better—it looks identical.”
You play along. “Or maybe it’s the supposed Gucci belts. I had no idea Gucci made handbags with fake crocodile skin.”
“The more you know…”
You laugh at that, and Mingyu looks at you—really looks, the same way he used to when you made a bad joke and giggled at it yourself. He looks at you with adoration written all over his face, in the upward twist of his lips and the crinkling in the corners of his eyes.
You clamp your mouth shut immediately, feeling a sense of nostalgia, longing and wistfulness seep into your skin, through your flesh and settle deep into your bones.
Too much. It’s too much, and it’s way too early, and you don’t want to dwell on anything at the moment. So you do what you do best: You hide.
You tear your gaze off him and rub your palms on your old jeans. You hear Mingyu’s sharp intake of breath, but you force yourself not to look, not to think about him.
“Hey, uh—I was supposed to call Jihyo right now,” you lie, and even you think it sounds lame coming out of your mouth, so there’s no way Mingyu can’t see through it.
“Y/N,” is all he says.
You hate the way your chest clenches—just because he said your name—but what can you do? Escape the situation and never bring up the obvious elephant in the room?
Yeah. That’s exactly what you do. Making decisions isn’t your forte, but you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later. Much, much later, if you can avoid it for as long as you’re living here.
You get up and make a beeline for your room, and Kim Mingyu doesn’t say anything to make you stop.
SIX
Whenever you faltered, Jihyo was your voice of reason. She would help you back to your feet, give you a solid nudge on your shoulder and list out the pros and cons of everything, allowing you to formulate your own opinion and come to a decision.
She isn’t being very helpful right now.
“Think about it,” she reasons. “Before, he was your ex. Now, he’s the guy you live with. You have to talk to him, no matter what.”
She’s right. She knows you know she’s right. You still refuse to acknowledge it, because pride comes before a fall, but you haven’t fallen yet. It’s more like you’re dangling off the precipice.
“How’s Jaehyun?” you say instead, referring to the guy she’s been crushing on ever since she moved to the new city.
Jihyo lets out an unimpressed sigh, the grainy image of her face on your phone screen contorting slightly. “Don’t think you’re being super smart by changing the topic, Y/N. And he’s fine. We went out for boba the other day.”
“Yeah?” You play with the fraying edge of the duvet thrown over your body. “That’s nice.”
Jihyo hums, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “And then he asked if we could hook up.”
You guffaw. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, affirming her statement. “I said no, obviously.”
“Why? Afraid he’s too much to handle?”
“Please,” your best friend snorts. “Have you seen him? I think I’m too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even pay for the boba without tearing his pocket because he was too enthusiastic in getting his wallet out.”
You smile thinly. Jihyo might be poking fun at the man, but you can tell from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her voice is filled with infectious joy that she’s enamoured by him. You wish you could meet him in person. Instead, you have to settle for checking out his Instagram profile.
“Anyway,” she continues, stifling a yawn, “it’s late and I have to head out tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” you say. “Good night. Don’t dream of Jaehyun.”
She flips her middle finger at you and you roll your eyes, pressing the end button. Just when you’re about to fluff your pillow so you can lie down, you hear a knock on your door.
“Y/N?” Mingyu sounds remarkably active, considering the fact that it’s currently fifteen minutes past midnight. “Are you awake?”
Curiosity compels you to answer honestly, “Yeah. Is everything okay?”
You tread over to the door, swinging it open. Mingyu is in his sweatpants—a pair you know he only wears for bed—and a loose graphic T-shirt. You’re wearing pretty much the same attire, except your shirt is an old one, worn-out from your high school days, and it doesn't fit you that well anymore. You tug the hem over your hips consciously.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I was just…” He pauses, raising a hand and ruffling his hair. “Do you wanna get some ice cream?”
Of all possible things you expected Mingyu to ask you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. You blink, bemused.
“Or—or we don’t have to,” he backtracks, when you don’t say anything immediately. “I was just craving something sweet, that’s all—”
“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with your answer. Mingyu is trying to extend the olive branch you placed in between you both, and you have to appreciate that. Regardless of your personal feelings. Besides, Jihyo was right—he’s the guy you live with, and you need to be able to spend time with him. As friends. Nothing more.
“Okay.” He exhales, relieved. “It’s right across the street.”
“I think I know the one you’re talking about.”
The ice cream parlour is a ten-minute walk from your apartment, but walking with Mingyu makes time fly. He says something about mint chocolate being an underrated flavour, and you insinuate that it deserves to be, and just like that, conversation flows between you both as though your past is some kind of a fever dream.
Where Seokmin is a bright ray of sunshine lighting up your way on a cloudy day, Mingyu is moonlight, skittering over your figure and providing solace in the dark. Seokmin is infectious laughter and gleeful smiles; Mingyu is whispered jokes and shared silence.
Perhaps it’s those very qualities that made you fall so hard for the man next to you. You know for sure it’s those very qualities that still have you in his grip, even though he doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why talking to him is awkward—because how do you move on from someone who captured your heart and kept it for safe-keeping but know that there’s one big, gaping hole in your chest where his heart is supposed to be? Even now, a small part of you belongs to Mingyu, like a little token which he’s kept locked up and hidden the key.
Six months is a long time, but neither you nor Mingyu seems to be able to bring up what happened. Maybe it’s for the best, you think. You would rather have a small bit of this domesticity that feels familiar than have everything blow up in your face because of the harsh words you exchanged.
You ignore the tightening in your chest and focus on the warmth pooling in your stomach when Mingyu grins and offers you a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to good ice cream flavours. You say mint chocolate is tolerable, but only because Mingyu likes it.
SEVEN
Seokmin drops by your cubicle almost every day now. He offers to drop you back home, too.
Each time, you smile but decline politely. You still feel guilty about saying that you would like to spend more time with him as well—but in your defence, you didn’t really lie; you do want to spend more time with him, but only as a friend. Seokmin didn’t specify how exactly he wants to go out with you.
It’s getting harder to say no, however. Seokmin is everything if not persistent, and his determination to take you out has you crumbling under his forlorn gaze and pleading words.
He doesn’t make your heart beat faster, or make butterflies erupt inside your belly. Being with Seokmin doesn’t come with bright fireworks or flashy songs. It’s finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and laughing yourselves silly over jokes that aren’t even that funny.
So. It’s not Mingyu, but Seokmin is nice and friendly and stable, and you think you can fall for him. You and Mingyu aren’t going to cross the threshold of friends ever again, anyway. There’s nothing stopping you from going out with Seokmin.
“Okay,” you say when he asks you again, a half-resigned look on his face when he assumes you’ll just say no again.
The way his expression morphs to elation is worth it, you think. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into your ear, and the joy he feels is infectious—as most good things with Seokmin are—so it’s no surprise that your cheeks are already hurting from smiling too hard.
When you update Jihyo about the latest turn of events, she tuts disapprovingly and says, “Have you told Mingyu?”
“No,” you say, feeling defensive. “I don’t have to tell him, do I?”
Your best friend waits for a beat. “You don’t, I guess.”
Mingyu interrupts your call then, and you quickly tell Jihyo you’ll text her later. He stands in the living room, holding up a pair of button down shirts, one in each hand, forehead creased and mouth downturned.
You lean against your doorway, amused. “You called?”
His face clears as he looks at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have this work event I need to attend tomorrow, but I don’t know what to wear.”
You observe the shirts he’s holding up. One is cream in colour, long-sleeved and ironed neatly. The other is black, with a thin white stripe along the collar and sleeves.
“The black one,” you say immediately. And then feel your cheeks heat up with your quick answer. In your defence, Kim Mingyu has always looked alarmingly handsome in black. Objectively speaking.
“I haven’t worn this one in a long time.” He brings it close to his face, squinting at it. “It probably stinks.”
“Smell it, then,” you say, chuckling at the mortified look on Mingyu’s face. “What? You’re telling me you’ve never worn your underwear inside out because you forgot to do the laundry? This isn’t that different.”
“I have never done anything of the sort.” He sniffs petulantly at you, before his eyes narrow. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve worn your underwear inside out?”
You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. I thought you knew me better than that.”
Mingyu tenses up at your offhand comment, and you look down, wondering why that even slipped out of your mouth in the first place. Of course you screw everything up just when things are going decently well.
“I do,” he mumbles. “I do know you better than that.” When you look at him, he has a wan smile on his lips. “Which is why I’m going to trust your judgement and wear the black shirt. Even if it’s musty from sitting in the back of my closet for so long.”
“Oh, shut up,” you huff, walking over to him and grabbing the cloth out of his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
He only raises a single eyebrow at you.
That’s what prompts you to sniff at it. At his goddamn shirt. Like you’re one of those police dogs they use to find missing people.
It… doesn’t smell unpleasant. A little bit musty, like Mingyu said, but that can be attributed to him not wearing it often. Mostly, it smells of faint fabric softener and deodorant—and underneath it all, a scent that is solely Mingyu’s. (Pine and citrus and lavender, all mixed together, in a way that only Mingyu can pull off.)
“It smells fine,” you say, shoving it into Mingyu’s chest. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m not the one who grabbed it and shoved my face into it,” he says, “so who’s the real dramatic one here?”
“I didn’t shove my face into it!” You swat at his shoulder, but he laughs and dodges, eyes twinkling with playfulness.
“If you say so,” he returns, still chuckling to himself.
“When is this event?”
“Tomorrow evening,” he answers.
“Both of us won’t be at home then,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “I… have a date tomorrow,” you explain, and regret it almost instantly. Why are you even telling him that? He doesn’t need to know.
“Oh,” is all he says, followed by a quieter, “Have fun.”
EIGHT
Seokmin picks you up at exactly six o’clock, wearing a loose button down shirt and slacks, and his hair styled carefully. He perks up as soon as you wave at him, jogging over to you with a smile.
“Hey,” he greets you. “You look good.”
You return his smile, tugging at the edge of your blouse and smoothing out your skirt. “Thank you. So do you.”
Seokmin’s grin brightens, which you didn’t even think was possible. “Thanks,” he says, and then gently takes hold of your elbow. “So… the plan for today is to take you out for dinner, and then a movie. How does that sound?”
“It sounds… good,” you say, letting him lead the way. It’s basic, yes, but you’re a firm believer in clichés—there’s a reason they become popular, after all.
He doesn’t stop talking, and neither do you. Throughout the entire half an hour dinner in some hole-in-the-wall diner that Seokmin discovered a month ago and serves the best blue lemonade mojitos you’ve ever tasted, and the entire two hour movie that’s way too boring for you to focus on the screen anyway, you and your co-worker keep up an endless stream of banter and silly anecdotes and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would.
It’s refreshing, and when you and Seokmin finally make the walk back to your apartment, you find it difficult to let go of his hand. He pulls you to a stop in front of the building, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of your hand.
His smile is as bright as ever, albeit tinged with slight disappointment. “So. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I had a lot of fun.”
“Me too,” he returns. “Listen, I—”
He’s interrupted by someone stumbling across the sidewalk—not someone, you realise. It’s two people, tightly coiled around each other in a manner that is entirely indecent for the public eye. But as they trip around one another—still holding each other tightly—your heart sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.
One of them is Mingyu.
The other person is some girl, hair falling loosely across her face, Mingyu’s fingers tangled into her tresses, while his other hand bunches up the material of her dress at her waist. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and you don’t tear your eyes away until Seokmin makes a noise of disgust.
He turns around, blocking your view of them and takes both your hands in his. “I… I’ll call you. Okay?”
You nod numbly. “Okay.”
Seokmin leaves with a bright smile and a lingering kiss on your cheek. You plaster a smile onto your lips until he moves out of your line of sight, after which you begin the arduous trek back to your—Mingyu’s—apartment. Normally, the three floors you climb aren’t much of a strenuous task; tonight, however, every step you take makes you feel like your legs are made of lead.
You fumble in your purse for your key, the image of Mingyu kissing that girl not leaving your mind. It’s not supposed to hurt, you’re not supposed to be bothered by it. But it stings, like the biting cold on a freezing winter morning, making your fingers stiff and your ears chilly.
You hear footsteps right when you twist the key into the lock.
The last thing you see before you enter the apartment is Mingyu clambering up the staircase, clearly drunk but surprisingly upright. He has a lipstick stain leading from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, his hair is tousled—no doubt from someone running their hands through his silky locks—and his shirt is untucked and wrinkled.
He opens his mouth to say something, but you grab the door handle and step inside, because the last thing you want to confront is the fact that your feelings for Kim Mingyu might not be as forgotten as you believe.
Which is fine, all things considered, except Kim Mingyu doesn’t give a damn.
You let the door slam shut behind you before Mingyu can get in. Technically, it’s his house. Technically, he’s the one who has the right to lock you out.
Technically, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum, and technically, Mingyu is allowed to kiss whomever the fuck he wants.
You wish Jihyo was here. She would ground you, make you see everything calmly and rationally. But she’s been having boy problems of her own (Jeong Jaehyun, who is decidedly not as romantic as Jihyo was led to believe), and the last thing you want is to dump your boy problems on her.
Besides, it’s no big deal. Right?
Mingyu lives here. He should have his own copy of the keys. He’s also drunk. (Drunk and half-laid, your mind helpfully reminds.)
Before you start overthinking about letting the door close behind you, you decide that what you really need is a warm shower. So you let your feet lead you to the bathroom directly, and don’t allow thoughts of ex-boyfriends and overly friendly co-workers to enter your brain.
You don’t hear the sound of keys turning in the lock the entire night, but you shove down the guilt that bubbles up your throat. It’s Mingyu’s fault for not carrying them with him wherever he goes; you’re not his caretaker, anyway.
Your phone pings with a text message from Seokmin, and you pick it up.
(19:47) Seokmin: I had a great time today. Thanks for coming with me :)
Despite the fact that you only have a towel wrapped around your body, and the fact that your hair is dripping wet, you feel a tingling warmth creep up your chest.
NINE
Monday is a horrible day.
You woke up half an hour later than usual, which led to you rushing through your morning routine. Your clothes aren’t ironed, which is fine usually, but the shirt you pick doesn’t tuck in quite right and you don’t have the time to change it. You almost tripped over the curb in your rush to get to work and nearly spilled a cup of coffee—which is far too sweet for your liking, due to the dollop of sugar you added by accident—all over yourself. Your manager, Choi Seungcheol, doesn’t approve of the project portfolio you compiled, and the deadline is fast approaching, which means more late nights for you.
And to top it all off, your car engine won’t fucking start.
You’re really not in the mood for Seokmin and his exuberant enthusiasm, which is something he probably catches onto, considering the fact that he stands silently next to you, waiting for you to finish cursing the piece of metal you call a car. Once you’re done resisting the urge to burn down the automobile, Seokmin places a placating hand on your shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, training a concerned gaze over your figure. “I can drop you back home.”
“No, it’s fine,” you mutter sullenly. “I’ll just call a cab or something.”
“Y/N, please. It’s no trouble.” He pauses, and you glance at him, at the sympathetic crease of his forehead and the genuinity reflected in his eyes. It’s touching, and Seokmin flashes you a small smile. “I was gonna head over that way anyway—I wanted to get some stuff from that bakery we went to.”
“I—” You hesitate, and he takes the chance to slide in.
“You call the mechanic. I’ll wait for you in my car, okay?”
He scurries away, leaving you biting your lip and staring at your phone. You should probably call Mingyu; he can help. Knowing him, he would probably want to help, regardless of who was asking him. Instead, you search up the nearest mechanic shop and dial in their number, giving them the details of where you are. They arrive a couple of minutes later, and you watch as they hook your car onto their big tow truck and drive away.
Seokmin waves you over to his car, a sleek Hyundai that's probably a few years old but still looks brand new. He opens the door to the passenger seat with a smile before grabbing the stack of folders you had kept clutched to your chest. You let him take them. You’re far too tired to argue.
Briefly, your mind wanders to Mingyu—what he would do if you had told him. Probably run all the way here, your brain supplies, prompting a wry smile to form on your lips. You press them together when you think of Mingyu with that girl immediately afterwards.
The drive to your house is silent, only the rumble of Seokmin’s car and the soft noise of some interview playing on the radio filling the silence. He pulls to a stop near your apartment, bundles up your work folders in his arms and gestures for you to lead the way to your flat.
The door swings open before you get the chance to pull out your key. Mingyu stands opposite you, dishevelled—just woken up from a nap, it seems. His mouth parts when he sees Seokmin standing behind you.
“Who’s this?” he asks by way of greeting.
You shift uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but the words stick to your throat like you’ve swallowed chewing gum. Seokmin reaches out from next to you, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s positively beaming.
“Hi, I’m Seokmin,” he says. “I work with Y/N.”
Mingyu shakes his hand, eyes roaming quizzically between you and Seokmin. “Nice to meet you,” he says distractedly. “I’m Mingyu, Y/N’s… roommate. And ex—”
“Come on in, Seokmin.” You glare at Mingyu. He only raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Seokmin coughs slightly, blows out a puff of air, and follows you inside.
“You can just…” You wave your hand around vaguely. Gritting your teeth does nothing to bring you out of your haze. It only exacerbates it.
“Did something happen?” Mingyu moves aside, but you feel his eyes on the back of your neck.
“Y/N’s car broke down,” Seokmin supplies. “It’s at the mechanic’s right now, so I offered to drop her back home.”
“I see.” His next statement is directed at you. “You could’ve called me. I would have come.”
It’s only then that you turn around and face him. He doesn’t move, gaze locked unwaveringly on your hunched-over figure. It’s almost like he’s challenging you to say something.
“I know that,” is all you say, voice low.
Mingyu nods. “Good.”
You avert your attention to Seokmin. He appears lost, gaping at both of you as though he can’t quite catch onto what’s going on. “Let’s go to my room, Seokmin. You can leave my stuff there.”
“Okay.” Seokmin nods, giving Mingyu a hesitant smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mingyu.”
“You too.”
It’s a tiny exchange, but it’s enough to cause a fissure inside your heart. Seokmin is always so nice. He gives out niceness like he’s handing out free candy to toddlers. The only time you’ve ever seen him get remotely angry was when another co-worker of yours forgot a pen drive containing a crucial presentation to an important client—even then, all he did was level a glare at her before calmly asking for a backup drive to be brought.
Mingyu, on the other hand, is like a burning ember. Calm one minute, and angry the next—and it’s the reason you love him, but it’s also the reason you broke things off. You and Mingyu are far too similar, hot-headed and careless to a fault, like two candle flames competing to see who can burn their wick the fastest. You didn’t burn the wick. You ended up burning each other instead. Let it not be said that playing with fire isn’t one of your specialties.
Seokmin lets out a breath that sounds like a huff and a sigh simultaneously as soon as he enters your room. “You can leave the stuff here,” you say, pointing at your desk.
He obliges, carefully placing the stack on the table. “That’s your roommate, huh? Y’know, when you said that you were living with someone you didn’t like, I didn’t think you meant your ex-boyfriend.”
You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s… difficult. I needed a place to live and he was the only person who offered on short notice. It just happened.”
Seokmin nods understandingly, lips pursed in thought. “He seems like a nice guy.”
“He is,” you agree. “One of the nicest people I know.”
“Yeah?” Your co-worker lifts one corner of his lips in an amused half-smile. “What does that make me?”
The answer is on the tip of your tongue. You know Seokmin is expecting it. Hell, you’re expecting the words to just come out. The nicest guy of them all. That’s all you have to say.
“You’re… Lee Seokmin.”
The words are flat on your tongue. Seokmin’s expression falls—just the tiniest bit, a crack in the foundation—but you feel a terrible weight in your stomach, pulling you down, down, down until your head sinks below the surface of the metaphorical waves and the water erases your existence.
Seokmin is a nice guy—you know that, and you’ve reiterated it so many times. The only thing stopping you from being in a proper relationship with him is your ex-boyfriend, only separated from you by a wooden door and cement walls. Mingyu doesn’t like you anymore, not in the way he used to, and it’s clearly time for you to stop dwelling on what you had.
You swallow, looking at Seokmin directly. “And…” You take a step closer to him. “I consider myself lucky to have met you.”
Seokmin looks at you, his gaze unsteady, but he takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” His throat bobs when he speaks, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.
“Yeah,” you confirm, letting his fingers slip in between yours.
He shuffles closer to you, and you can smell his woody cologne intermingled with sweat. You can count the moles on his face, see your reflection in his pupils.
“Y/N, I really want to kiss—”
There’s a knock on your door, and you and Seokmin jump away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Seokmin looks down at his feet; you clear your throat before letting out a hoarse, “Yes?”
“You left your phone outside,” Mingyu calls. “The mechanic just called.”
“Oh, um. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of all possible times for Mingyu to be a cockblocker, why now? “S-sorry about that.”
“No, it’s—you’re fine,” he stammers out, clearly as out of it as you are. “I should probably leave too, I still need to stop by the bakery.”
“Oh, yeah!” you say. “I forgot. Do you want me to come with you?”
“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s getting dark outside and you need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” you murmur. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Cursed your car to oblivion, probably,” he teases.
You flush, heat creeping up the back of your neck and ears. “That—you didn’t have to see that.”
“I thought it was cute,” he returns easily, corners of his lips twitching.
Against your will, your lips twitch upwards too. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
Seokmin opens your door, and you follow him out of your room. He gives Mingyu a grin, says, “See you around,” and lets you close the door behind him.
Mingyu crosses his arms over his chest. You glance at him. His eyebrows are knotted together, lips pressed into a stoic line. You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Hey,” he begins, voice soft, “is that… your boyfriend?”
You raise your eyebrows. “Does it matter?”
He huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes—no. No, it doesn’t matter. I was just curious, okay?”
You open your mouth, then close it, at a loss for words. Are you and Seokmin together? Not really. Both of you haven’t done or said anything to define your relationship—if there is one in the romantic sense, at least. Seokmin wanted to kiss you, but Mingyu interrupted before anything could even happen—it’s your irritation at the day being shitty, and Mingyu being an asshole after everything he did that makes you roll your eyes at him and snap at him. “It’s none of your business.”
Mingyu’s face turns stony, a hardness to his features that you’ve only seen a few times before—it was directed at you the last time, too. “Okay. Fine. Sorry I asked.”
“Are you?” you retort, and before he can say anything to retaliate, you storm back into your room and lock the door.
Your heart feels like it’s been split into two, one half yearning for the comfort and familiarity that comes with still liking Mingyu, and the other excited to explore what Seokmin could offer you—and what he already has offered. But for now, you decide to get some sleep. Your heart can wait.
TEN
Jihyo is back.
Jihyo is fucking back, and she’s standing in your—Mingyu’s—living room, arms wide open and a grin on her lips so wide, her eyes crinkle in the corners. It takes all of your willpower not to launch yourself into her arms. Instead, you slow down, toe your shoes off, let your bag drop to the floor, and then launch yourself into her arms.
She laughs at your overzealous demeanour, and you giggle into her hair. God, you’d missed her. Texting every day and video calling every weekend can only do so much, and it’s nothing compared to seeing her in person.
“Hi,” she says, pulling back enough to escape your cage-like hold around her body.
“Hi,” you greet back, smiling so wide and so hard, you can feel your ears pop. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.” She confirms your statement by nodding. “Only for a week, though.”
“Ah.”
Your best friend lets out a sheepish chuckle, and you take a step back. Her suitcase is on the floor next to her, and she’s kept her backpack on the sofa. “Are you gonna stay here?” you ask.
She winces. “No, there isn’t much space here. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. It’s, like, ten minutes by walk from here and it’s not very expensive either,” she assures.
“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. If Jihyo stayed with you, at least the awkwardness between you and Mingyu might be reduced by a small fraction. Her overbearing nature and ability to make conversation with literally anyone would be a lifesaver, given the situation you’ve dug yourself into.
A situation that she knows nothing about.
You haven’t had the time to keep Jihyo updated about the latest turn of events—not when she was busy juggling a relationship with her sort-of boyfriend, Jeong Jaehyun. She doesn’t know about Seokmin, and she doesn’t know about your lingering feelings for Mingyu.
“Hey, you’re back already.”
Speak of the devil.
You turn around and find Mingyu leaning against the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. You feel your breath hitch. He continues, “I guess Jihyo already beat me to it, huh?”
“You knew she was coming?” you ask him, almost accusatory.
“You didn’t tell her?” Jihyo echos, a curious tinge to her tone.
He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”
Against your will, you find yourself grinning at him. Mingyu dissolves in the slightest—a small hint of surprise—before he grins back at you, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. Jihyo lets out a small huff from next to you, but you know nothing can put a damper on your mood right now. Not even your resurfaced feelings for Mingyu, nor your newfound ones for Seokmin.
Your best friend squeezes your arm. “I have some time before I need to check in at the hotel. Do you wanna check out our old place?”
You turn to her and nod. The prospect of going back to the place where you created cherished memories with someone so dear to you is enticing; then you remember your car is still at the mechanic’s. “My car is out of commission.”
Jihyo only turns and stares at Mingyu. He sighs resignedly, pushing himself off the doorway and heading inside his room. “Let me grab my keys.”
“Might as well stop for ice cream along the way,” Jihyo calls out gleefully to his retreating back.
You gulp. This… might not be a good idea. If Mingyu tags along with you, this would be the first time since last week where you’re speaking to him normally, making conversation that isn’t just along the lines of “Did you do the laundry?” or “I bought some vegetables”. Of course, if you told Jihyo what happened, she would immediately make sure Mingyu doesn’t come. You chew on your bottom lip, but before you can come to a decision, Mingyu emerges from his bedroom, car keys dangling off his fingers.
“Ready?” he asks.
Jihyo grabs onto your arm, excitement so visible on her face that it prompts the tension in your own features to melt away. You let yourself get carried away by her giddiness, not noticing the fond glances the only male in the group keeps giving you whenever he’s sure you’re not looking. If you’d met his eyes once throughout the drive to your old place, you’d see the way his eyes still twinkle at you with the same intensity as they did months ago, but you’re too busy catching up with Jihyo to notice.
Mingyu pulls to a stop in front of your old apartment building—a dilapidated structure that’s not half as modern as the current building you stay in. At least the elevator is still functioning; you purse your lips to contain your laugh when Mingyu looks at it, eyebrows raised in visible astonishment. Jihyo grips your hand tightly when you reach your floor. You tighten your hold on her hand as well, feeling a sudden burst of emotion erupt inside your chest like lava escaping from a volcano.
You and Jihyo round the corner to the apartment that used to be yours, Mingyu following closely. The door is the same dull brown it was back then as well, but someone has put in the effort to redo the varnish. There’s a potted fern next to it as well.
You let out a shuddering breath. Jihyo wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close; you aren’t sure if it’s just the wind rattling through the open window, but you hear something like a sniffle.
This is the place you lived in when you had your first boyfriend, when you had your first heartbreak, when you cried your lungs out at some stupid TV show that you were invested in at the time but can’t possibly remember the name of now. This is the place where you and Jihyo bonded over crappy supermarket deals and made a mess of the kitchen whenever you tried to learn how to cook something new.
This is the place where you first met Kim Mingyu.
You tilt your head at him, watch as he stares resolutely ahead of him, like if glares at it strongly enough, he can bore two holes straight through the wood. Eventually, his eyes land on yours.
His lips part but no words come out. He offers you a small smile instead, one so tender and heart-warming and achingly familiar. You blink, and the moment is gone. You’re left with the same sense of wistfulness and longing that you always feel around him.
Jihyo squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining. “Should we ring the bell?” she asks, and then presses the doorbell before you can respond.
A muffled “Coming!” from inside, and the latch is pulled open to reveal a college student—a few years younger than you, perhaps, with sleep bags underneath his eyes and a cup of coffee clutched to his chest. He looks confused—as anyone would be, you suppose, when you see a random bunch of strangers standing on your doorstep—but his expression clears when Jihyo explains who you are and why you’re here.
He says he’s living here with his boyfriend and their pet cat—a beautiful Siberian who coils itself around his legs, tail upturned—and you feel your heart swell with the knowledge that your old haven is being taken care of well. Jihyo consistently badgers him with questions and he answers each one patiently, to his credit.
A flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, however. Does Mingyu not remember this? He was looking for apartments in this building, too, when you met him. Doesn’t he remember the old landlady conversing with you? Doesn’t he remember the way people constantly asked if you two were together, which is what even prompted him to ask for your number in the first place?
You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a slight pressure on your shoulder. Mingyu’s hand is on your shoulder. Your gaze flits over to him.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. “There was a mosquito.”
He’s lying.
He remembers.
ELEVEN
“Spill.”
“The… tea?” you ask cautiously, looking at Jihyo. She’s holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand.
“You think you’re so funny.” She rolls her eyes.
“I know I am,” you quip, and she rolls her eyes again, taking a sip of the beverage.
“You’ve been distracted since yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Since we went to our old place.” Her voice quietens, “Is it Mingyu? Did he do something?”
You eye her warily, sitting down on the plush armchair opposite her. “No,” you say.
“Then what is it? Did—did you not want me here?”
“No.” You’re quick to alleviate her concerns. “Of fucking course I wanted you here. I missed you. So much.”
Your best friend smiles at that, swirling the tea in the mug. “But something’s bothering you.”
“...Yes.” You admit it slowly, playing with your fingers splayed out on your lap. “It’s not important. You’re here only for a few days, we should do something fun.”
“Y/N,” Jihyo says slowly, enunciating every syllable of your name like she’s speaking to a troublesome child, “if you’re worried about me feeling bad or anything, please don’t. I want to help you.”
You wave her away. “You have your own shit to deal with.”
“What, you mean Jaehyun?” She snorts. “I’m over him. I was over him ages ago.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Just.” You look down at your feet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”
Jihyo cocks her head to the side, studying you carefully. “Yes. I did. What about it?”
Your shoulder slump, dejectedness seeping into your figure. “How… did you do it?” You glance up at her, note the way she observes you carefully. Your voice is almost pleading when you continue, “How did you get over him?”
Your best friend’s expression clears, comprehension dawning on her face. She places her mug down, leaning forward and clasping your hand with hers. “It’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”
You shake your head miserably. “Not just him.”
“There’s someone else?” She doesn’t sound surprised, only intrigued and concerned.
You take a deep breath, lock gazes with her—and everything comes spilling out of your mouth like the tide receding into the ocean. You tell her everything, about Mingyu and Seokmin and how conflicted they make you feel; how one is like the living personification of sunlight on a gloomy day, and the other reminds you of clouds providing shade on a hot afternoon. You tell her about how guilty you feel, as though you’re leading Seokmin to believe that you’re ready for a committed relationship when a part of your heart still belongs to Mingyu. You speak until the words end up garbled and slurred, and your breathing turns heavy and salt water streaks across your cheeks, your best friend rubbing them away with the pad of her thumb.
When you don’t know what to say, Jihyo pulls you into a hug—it’s an awkward position, your elbows locked around her arms while your neck is bent at an odd angle, but it’s comforting, and you let your eyes close tiredly.
“Y/N,” she says, rubbing her thumb on your shoulder soothingly. “I know it’s hard for you to decide, but you have to know: What do you want?”
The question makes you contemplate. What do you want?
“I don’t know,” is all you can get out, slumping further into her arms.
She hums softly. “But you’ll figure it out. I know you will.”
Will you? You’re not so sure. Maybe when the time is right. But for now, you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder and let her rub circles onto your skin.
You pull back when the position becomes too uncomfortable—you can already feel a crick in your neck—and Jihyo wraps her fingers around her discarded mug. She raises it in a half-hearted toast. “To sexy girls who don’t need men in their lives.”
You giggle, rubbing your eyes. “Men are pieces of shit, anyway.”
“Damn right they are,” she croons, falling dramatically back onto the couch. “We should just get married instead.”
“If you propose to me the right way, maybe I’ll consider it.”
Jihyo grins at you, and it’s infectious enough to make you grin back at her. “Consider it done,” she says. “I have a ring in my nightstand drawer with your name written on it.”
“If it’s not pure diamond, I won’t accept.”
“Tsk. So greedy.”
TWELVE
Introducing Seokmin to Jihyo was not a part of your agenda for the week.
But it’s Seokmin and it’s Jihyo, so really, what else did you expect? Both of them integrated themselves seamlessly into your life, and they have no plans of leaving anytime soon. Might as well get the introductions over with.
Ironically, it happens when you go to collect your car from the mechanic’s, and once they’ve exchanged names and small talk, Jihyo and Seokmin are inseparable. The former regals him with tales of your college shenanigans, while the latter listens enthusiastically, eyes flitting between you both amusedly.
“Okay, that’s enough,” you hurriedly interrupt the conversation, right before Jihyo can go into the messy details of how you wanted to marry the toilet when you were drunk once and Mingyu had to physically carry you out of the house because you were convinced the white ceramic was proposing to you.
“You and Mingyu were together for a long time, huh?” Seokmin asks you quietly, once Jihyo is finished with her sulking at you interrupting her story. She’s at the side, conversing with someone on the phone, leaving you and your co-worker alone in front of your car.
You’re so startled by the question, you nearly drop your keys. “I—why do you ask?”
Seokmin licks his lips, a seriousness to his figure that you haven’t witnessed many times before. “Just… curious, I suppose.”
You look down once, see how he’s twisted his fingers together—even the Lee Seokmin gets nervous, after all—and look back up at him. “Yes,” you admit softly, voice hitching slightly, “we were. We… were in love, I guess you could say.”
He’s silent for a minute, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “And now?”
“I don’t know, Seokmin,” you answer him honestly. Your heart flutters inside your chest, while your stomach twists into tight knots—two reactions you didn’t think would go hand-in-hand, yet here you are, leaving your heart bare for Seokmin to take while gatekeeping a part of it to yourself.
He raises his head, warm eyes capturing yours. You see the smallest flicker of hope and sadness, two thin wisps of emotion dancing in his eyes—but even then, his lips are turned upwards, because it’s Lee Seokmin.
“But you could try?” he asks, so softly you can barely catch the words.
You push down the emotions that threaten to swallow you whole, swirling around your entire body like the blood that flows through your veins. “I don’t know,” you say again, no less honest than the first time.
He opens his mouth, but Jihyo walks back to you both, mouth downturned. “My company said they need me back as soon as possible.” She says it calmly, but disappointment and bitterness seep into her voice.
For a moment, you freeze, and then ask, “When do you need to leave?”
“Tomorrow,” she answers with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve already booked the flight.”
“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll drop you to the airport.”
“I’ll come with,” Seokmin chimes in, and adds, in true Seokmin fashion, “Make sure Y/N doesn’t drive us all into a ditch or something.”
You shove his shoulder, muttering an “asshole” under your breath, and his smile only widens. Jihyo glances in between you both, lower lip caught between her teeth, before she sucks in a breath and smiles. “Good to know my best friend is in good hands.”
“The best hands, actually,” Seokmin teasingly corrects.
You roll your eyes at the two of them. “Can we go home now, or not?”
“Home it is,” Jihyo agrees, “but first, I demand Taco Bell.”
“Fine,” you concede, letting her grab the keys from your outstretched palm.
Seokmin grabs your hand once she clambers into your fixed car. His palm is broad, skin warm, and his fingers wrap around yours with ease. He squeezes your hand once, gently, and it feels like a promise and a farewell at the same time.
Seokmin asks you out again three days after Jihyo leaves.
This time, he takes you out to an Italian restaurant. He’s dressed up in a suit and a bowtie—and actual blue velvet bowtie that sits snugly at the hollow of his neck—and he’s the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pouring champagne into your glass like a professional. (When you compliment him on his drink-pouring skills, he just mutters bashfully about how his dad taught him that to please a lady, you need to be good at pouring drinks; it does nothing to ease the quickening pace of your heart.)
Lee Seokmin compliments your dress, says that that specific shade of pink looks beautiful on you. He recommends you try out their vegetable lasagne, says it’s one of the dishes the restaurant is famous for. He laughs about his favourite show, tells you he would love to rewatch it with you someday. He asks if you like gardens because his neighbour is trying to convince him to grow a rosebush outside his house, but he can’t look after plants even if his life depended on it. He wants to go out for ice cream afterwards, but the night is too chilly for the cold dessert so you opt against it.
Throughout, you play someone who’s on her first date, who thinks this is all there is and everything she’s been dreaming of has come true.
You would like to think you’re a good actor.
Kim Mingyu has seen you in nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts and he used to whisper praises against your skin, flushed with sweat and sweet words. He ate the shitty lasagne you made without complaining, no matter how bad it tasted. He watched whatever was playing on television with you, just because he enjoyed your company and wanted to be wherever you were. He’s not particularly good with plants, but he has a little succulent named Spurt, making sure it gets enough sunlight and water. He likes mint chocolate ice cream, and would defend the flavour with his life.
Kim Mingyu and Lee Seokmin: Two sides of the same coin.
Jihyo’s question resonates in your mind as you and Seokmin walk back to your car.
What do you want?
As you near your vehicle, Seokmin puts a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N,” is all he says, and you hate the way your chest clenches at that—just because he said your name.
“Did you have fun today?” he continues, eyes roaming over your features like he’s committing you to memory. Like a soldier leaving his wife before he heads out to the frontlines.
“I did, Seokmin. I really did.” You place your hand over his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, pressing lightly on his knuckles; you need him to know that you truly enjoyed today—desperate for him to know, because it’s the least you can do for him after everything he’s done for you.
“Good,” he says. “I—I had fun today with you, too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Y/N.”
He bends down. You can feel his breath fan out on the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver. He turns his head, and his lips brush against your cheek. A small, soft farewell.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t—” you begin, feeling your voice begin to wobble.
“Don’t be sorry,” Seokmin whispers, but he sounds firm. “We’re still friends.”
Your heart plummets deep, deep down, a free fall that isn’t orchestrated by gravity. You think you know the answer to Jihyo’s question now.
“Thank you,” you whisper back to Seokmin.
THIRTEEN
The light is on when you enter the apartment. Mingyu’s figure lies hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, a half-empty beer can next to him. You quickly shuck off your heels and drop your purse onto the shoe rack.
Your ex-boyfriend looks at you when pad over to the living room. “You’re back.” He sounds hoarse, tired.
“Have you been drinking?” you say in return, raising an eyebrow.
Mingyu glances at the can in his hand then back at you. “Yeah. Long day.”
“Me too,” you admit quietly.
Perhaps it’s the quiet ambience of your shared home—silent, despite the noise of the city outside—that compels him; or maybe it’s the idea of coming home to someone you think you know better than the back of your own hand. Either way, when Mingyu pats the cushion beside him, your feet move automatically and you sit down, letting out a weary sigh.
It’s quiet, but not in the awkward sense. Not like back then, when Mingyu thought you and Seokmin were dating. Not even when you visited your old apartment. Exhaustion makes its home in your bones, and you suspect it’s taken over Mingyu too; there’s no way this shared piece of night can be so comfortable otherwise.
“Want some?” he asks after a few minutes.
“No thanks.”
Mingyu shrugs and puts the can down on the coffee table. “Wanna talk about it?” He leans back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head.
“No,” you answer, and then, “Do you?”
“No.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at you. “Were you with… Seokmin?”
“...Yes.”
You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know he’s clenching his jaw. It’s a pure rush of adrenaline that makes you ask, “Why does it bother you so much whenever I’m with him?”
Silence.
You turn your head, cheek brushing against the back of the sofa. Mingyu’s eyes are closed, hair falling in loose strands around his forehead and neck. You wonder what he’s thinking.
His answer excites you—in the rawest form possible. Anticipation builds up in your chest, threatens to explode through your windpipe. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, there is nothing you can do to stop your heart from rabbiting inside your rib cage.
“It doesn’t,” he says finally, an air of decisiveness about him.
For the second time that night, your heart plummets, and you tear your eyes off him. “Okay,” you say. “That is, um, good information to have.”
“Isn’t he your boyfriend?”
“How does it matter to you?”
Mingyu crosses and uncrosses his ankles, this time staring resolutely at the floor. “I don’t know. It just does.”
You purse your lips. He isn’t being fair to you. “What about you?” you demand. “What about that girl you almost brought back home, huh?”
His mouth twitches. “You saw that.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.
“I’m not blind, Mingyu,” you retort.
Your roommate lets out a sardonic chuckle at that, slowly dragging his eyes up. “I highly doubt that.”
“What do you mean?” You scowl at him, feeling your chest begin to heave. “You—you’re like some kind of a riddle, Mingyu. I can never tell what you mean by anything, and it’s even worse now that you’re drunk and—”
“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” he interrupts.
“I don’t care if you’re drunk or not—” you don’t realise your voice is caving in, growing softer and softer by the second— “stop saying things you don’t mean.”
“I want to kiss you,” he says finally. “I want to kiss you and I may be slightly drunk, but I don’t fucking care. And I mean it.”
You swallow, blood pounding through your veins. “Say that again.”
“What?” he says, sounding genuinely confused. His gaze never leaves your face, every ounce of earnestness and honesty written plainly on his features.
“Say it again,” you repeat.
“I want—”
You surge forward, capturing his lips with yours, pressing them firmly against his even when he lets out a muffled gasp. He doesn’t kiss back immediately, but his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly and crumpling the flimsy material of your dress. He kisses you back then, mouth jutting insistently into yours, tongue sliding against your lower lip. You arch your back, scramble to find some balance in this precarious position, and your hands end up tangled in his hair. He tastes like beer and aftershave and something that’s so distinctly Mingyu, you want more.
You pull away when air becomes a necessity, blinking even as Mingyu’s arms pull you closer to him.
“This isn’t over,” you manage to get out in between huffed breaths.
“Tomorrow,” he promises, but his eyes are glazed. He looks at you like a man starved, and tilts his head and kisses you again, kisses you like he might never see you again.
You let him. It’s Kim Mingyu, after all, and you’ve always been a little weak for him.
You don’t think of Seokmin; don’t let him come out of the tiny pocket you’ve preserved in your heart just for him. Instead, you wrap your arms around your ex-boyfriend’s neck, leaning into his chest and kissing him back with equal fervour, letting him know that you need him as much as he needs you.
God, you’d missed him. Way more than you thought. You’ve memorised his touch, branded it into your mind, but it still feels new. Like the first time you were with him, kissing like two teenagers with reckless abandon.
His cold fingers find their way underneath your waist, hitching up the loose material of your dress around your thighs. You kneel on the couch cushions in front of him, almost straddling his lap but not quite. His fingers brush against your sides in a way that sends shivers down your spine.
He nips at your lip, asking for entrance to your mouth to which you accept, parting your lips enough for him to get a taste. As he moves his tongue around yours, exploring your mouth in every way possible, you can’t contain the slight whimper that escapes your throat.
Mingyu groans, leaning his weight onto you as you both start moving together until you’re laid flat against the couch. He’s impatient, you can tell; his fingers dig into your skin, and he groans again when you bite down gently on his lower lip. He pulls back and moves downwards, kissing your jaw and behind your ear, suckling gently on a sensitive bit of skin with expertise. “Tell me to stop,” he says, whispering the words against your skin.
All you do is moan in response, rubbing your thighs together to get some friction with the way he’s moving his mouth against your skin.
“Tell me to stop,” he says again, more firmly this time.
“Shut the fuck up, Gyu,” is all you reply with, the nickname falling out of your lips with familiarity.
Maybe it’s the use of something that used to be your thing—something the two of you shared, the shortened version of his name—but hearing it come out of your lips again does things to Mingyu that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put into words for you. Trailing his movements down to your neck, he stops at your chest, a small smile spreading on his face. “Forgot how much I loved it when you called me that.”
Looking down at him, you hadn’t realised he’s moved further down your body and his fingers trace the edges of your underwear. Your dress is bunched up above your thighs, skin exposed to the cool air. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, pressing a tiny kiss to the inside of your thighs. He toys with the elastic of the waistband, chuckling when you shoot him an irritated glare.
He stares down at your clothed core, mouth watering while his hands move faster than you can comprehend. It takes him two seconds to hook his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down to your ankles and tosses them onto the coffee table.
You feel a wave of shyness overcome you—with the way he’s looking at you, desperate for your taste—and you try to close your legs, before his hands land on your thighs, halting your actions. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “I want to see all of you.”
Heat burns your cheeks and flows through your body. You turn your head to avoid his burning gaze as you feel him part your legs. He readjusts himself, laying as flat and comfortably as he can with what little space he has on the couch until he’s face-to-face with where you need him most. He tests the waters, leaning in with his tongue out, letting it graze your clit. You stifle a moan, biting your lip so hard, you think it might bleed.
He smiles, loving how you’re holding back. “So quiet, baby. Wanna remember how I used to make you feel.” Laying his tongue flat against your clit, he gives you slow and soft strokes—so gentle that it drives you insane.
“You’re such—such a tease,” you gasp out, right when he swirls his tongue around the nub.
Mingyu only raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t changed.” But all the same, any plans he had to be patient with you go straight out the window; he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you down further to his face. The sudden pull surprises you, and you gasp a little while searching for something to grab onto. He indulges in your pussy, tongue exploring your pulsating hole that clenches around everything and nothing all at once. He relishes in the way you feel on his tongue, groaning against your folds while bringing a hand up and rubbing his thumb on your neglected clit.
You’re a mess under his touch, squirming on the sofa, loud groans and soft mewls escaping your lips wantonly. Your fingers find their way into his soft locks, pulling gently on his hair and scratching against his scalp. He lets out a moan against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if you’re his last source of water. “F-fuck, Gyu, ‘m gonna—” a gasp— “‘m gonna cum.”
This only encourages him to work his mouth harder, wanting to watch you fall apart just by his mouth alone. You tug harder at his hair, moans growing louder and more desperate by the second, and your thighs shudder around his head, feeling the rush of your high come so close, you aren’t prepared for it.
With two final sucks to your clit, you come undone on his tongue followed by a string of moans with broken pieces of his name somewhere in between. Mingyu looks up at you with bright eyes and a satisfied grin, as if he didn’t just eat out your pussy like he would never get the chance to again. The mixture of saliva and your juices dripping down his chin makes your eyes widen even as you squint down at him.
With careful, deliberate motions, he moves away from you, the grin on his face replaced by a more serious expression. You sit up, leaning on your elbows. The aftermath of your passionate actions catches up to you; reaching over, you snatch your panties from the coffee table and swing your legs over. Throughout, Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He only watches, in that quiet, observant way of his, swiping at his mouth and chin with a tissue he grabbed from the tissue box next to the couch.
You glance at him. Is he going to say something? Or is he going to let you walk away again, with all the words you want to say to him lying on the tip of your tongue, always there but never released?
“Y/N.” He scrambles to his feet when you stand up, clutching your underwear in one hand and adjusting your dress with the other. He sounds… uncertain. Completely unlike the Mingyu who cockily asked you if Seokmin was your boyfriend, or who joked around with Jihyo like it was second nature to him.
You bite your lip. “Yes?”
“Do you… do you want anything? Water?”
You melt a little at his words like an ice cream left out for too long. Kim Mingyu, always so kind, always so caring—you know that better than anyone.
He can be cruel too, in the way he chips away at your already broken heart. He doesn’t know it but he does—lift your hopes only to let it all crumble down. Like how he broke the promises you made to each other, and how you broke the words you’d sworn to say to him alone.
It hits you again, how you and Mingyu were meant to be, and how lonely it was when he left. You wonder if he feels the same way—did he spend sleepless nights in bed, thinking of you? Did he ever think that if he could travel back in time, he’d do it all over again?
You shake your head no at him. He doesn’t say anything after that, but his lips part slightly. He watches you as you walk over to grab your purse and head inside your room.
That night, you don’t sleep at all—despite wrapping yourself up in your Looney Tunes comforter and the comforting weight of your pillow beneath your head that usually puts you to sleep instantly.
Instead, it feels like the very first night you and Mingyu broke up all over again.
SIXTEEN
You don’t tell anyone about what transpired between you and Mingyu. It remains hidden between you both, a secret neither of you are willing to bring up.
Jihyo is back to work at her new city, now completely devoid of boy problems of any sort, since Jeong Jaehyun has shifted his affections to another co-worker. (“It’s better this way,” she tells you, “he didn’t want a committed relationship, anyway.” You can tell she’s truly not bothered by it, so you grin and agree.)
Seokmin doesn’t come around to your cubicle the way he used to earlier, either. Your days at the office are dreary and boring, now that your co-worker’s sunshine smile isn’t there to keep you company. In fact, the only person who still talks to you voluntarily at work is your boss, Seunghcheol, but even then it’s mostly just a sympathetic smile he offers you followed by a new deadline or a project.
You and Mingyu are back to whatever it was you had when you first moved in, before the lasagne fiasco. Not talking to each other, but not not talking to each other either. You swerve around each other in tandem, finding more and more excuses to avoid whatever happened in between you both. He lied when he said he would talk to you about it the next day, after he ate you out on the couch.
You can’t blame him completely; you’ve made no effort to reach out to him, either.
Weariness seeps into your skin with every passing second. You rub at your already half-closed eyes and hide a yawn behind a closed fist. The letters on your laptop screen swim in front of you. The stack of folders next to it drags a tired sigh out of your lips.
You’re so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally you’re drained out, all the liveliness sucked out of you like someone vacuumed up the inside of your heart. The lack of sleep is getting to you; the lack of someone to brighten up your days is getting to you more.
If you and Seokmin were still on a talking basis, he would have sauntered over to your desk by now, hands in his pockets and the same question on his lips: “Coffee break?”
He’s not here now, probably tucked into his corner of the floor. Maybe his smile is directed at someone else. Maybe he’s taking someone else on the daily ritual that you used to consider yours. Maybe it’s time you get out of your fucking swivel chair and get some coffee.
You’re not doing it alone, of course. No, coffee at the office—no matter how shitty the machine is and how long the line for the coveted caffeine is—is yours and Seokmin’s thing. Besides, he said you’re still friends; it’s time for you to step up.
Stifling another yawn, you blink slowly before pushing yourself off your chair. It occurs to you that you don’t know exactly where Seokmin’s cubicle is—he’d mentioned it was by Seungcheol’s room once. You decide to start there.
It doesn’t take you long to find Seokmin. You walk into him—literally walk into him. A startled gasp leaves your lips when you collide into someone’s chest, an apology already on the tip of your tongue.
“Are you okay?”
You blink once. The voice is familiar. You direct your gaze at the person you bumped into.
“Seokmin,” you breathe out weakly.
He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.”
“I-I’m sorry I bumped into you,” you quickly apologise. “I was on my—”
“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” he interrupts. “I should’ve looked at where I was going too.”
“How… have you been?” The question spills out before you notice, and you realise that you’re genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. You’ve missed him, missed his companionship.
Seokmin looks briefly surprised that you’ve asked him. He clears his throat, once. “Oh, um. I’ve been fine—y’know, the usual. Work, home, sleep and then repeat. How—how about you?”
“I’ve been better,” you admit. “You look tired, though.”
He lifts his hand and rubs his cheek with an accompanying embarrassed chuckle. “You could tell?”
He has bags underneath his eyes. His shoulders sag ever-so slightly. His usually perfectly styled hair isn’t as neat as it used to be. You nod. “You look exhausted.”
“Ah.” Another embarrassed chuckle; you can tell he doesn’t know how to respond to that.
“Coffee break?” you offer, a small, lopsided smile gracing your lips.
This time, the smile Lee Seokmin gives you lights up his eyes.
SEVENTEEN
“This is ridiculous!” you call out for the nth time, glaring at the door with as much intensity as you can muster.
“Jihyo’s orders!” Seokmin calls back, from outside the room. “I have proof that she asked me to lock you two up in order for you to talk it out.”
Mingyu huffs out a breathless laugh from behind you. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, sheets crumpled and pillow on his lap. You turn around to level your glare at him.
“Give it up,” he advises.
“Don’t even.” You pinch the bride of your nose, closing your eyes in exasperation. “This is all your fault.”
“My fault? No one told you to tell Seokmin everything!”
“Well, how was I supposed to know he would go and tell Jihyo?” you splutter out, opening your eyes and bringing your hand down. “I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers!”
“Might as well get it over with,” Seokmin’s voice travels through the barricade once more. “The sooner the better.”
“I didn’t ask you, Seokmin,” you mutter.
“He’s right, you know.” Mingyu pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. “If Jihyo hadn’t forced him to do it, I would have found some way to do it myself.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” you retort. “You’ve been avoiding me since the day we—since the day we kissed.”
“I would have tried,” he reasons. “But since you’re here now, can you at least please listen to what I have to say?”
“Oh, so now you have things you want to say,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Regardless, you sit down next to him. You’re curious, you will admit. This conversation could potentially break your heart, or it could also change the trajectory of your relationship with Mingyu.
Your ex-boyfriend takes a deep breath before beginning.
“The other day, when I said I wanted to kiss you—I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I truly meant it. I’ve wanted to kiss you the minute I laid eyes on you again. I wanted to hold your hand, to take you places around the neighbourhood, to come back home to you.
“I thought we were making progress. I thought we were friends again, and I could somehow win your heart back.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “But then Seokmin came by, and you both just seemed so close. He—he brought back this life in you; your eyes sparkled whenever he was around, and you were always smiling when you were with him. I never saw that after we… after you moved in. You were always so jittery with me—understandably so—and I… I let my jealousy of seeing you with Seokmin get the better of me.
“That day, when I—” he pauses, glancing at you; his eyes are imploring, and you sense that he’s laying himself bare for you— “when you saw me kissing that girl, I did it on purpose. To make you jealous. And then I saw the look on your face, and even when I was drunk, I knew I’d fucked up. So I left her, and I followed you back inside—you closed the door just as I caught up with you. I called up Minghao, spent the night at his place. I think that’s when I realised completely that I—that I still love you.”
Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe you’re actually hearing these words.
Mingyu swallows. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Even after we broke up, even after all the things we said to each other—some part of me knew that I shouldn’t give up on you. I have loved you throughout. I will continue to love you throughout.”
He looks down, staring at his hands. In that instant, he looks so small. Vulnerable. As if giving his entire heart to you on a silver platter isn’t enough. As if he’s giving all of himself to you, mind, body and soul.
You need to tell him that your mind, body and soul have always been his.
“Mingyu,” you begin, watching as his eyes travel over to yours uncertainly, “you absolute fucking idiot.”
His lips twitch up briefly. “Wha—”
“I love you, too, idiot.” The words rush out breathlessly. “I never stopped.”
Mingyu’s eyes widen and his mouth opens imperceptibly. You continue, “I knew this would happen. The minute I stepped foot into your house, I knew I would fall for you all over again.”
You reach out and grip his hand, needing something to tether you against him. “And I did.” A watery laugh escapes your mouth. “I fell in love with you all over again.”
A pause, and then Mingyu’s free hand cups your cheek, skin warm against yours. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
Mingyu smiles at your confession—a full smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners and his lips turning upwards. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
You beat him to it, covering the distance between you both with one swift swoop. You capture his lower lip in between yours, hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He kisses you back with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You close your eyes and slide your tongue across the seam of his lips, smiling when he lets out a silent groan.
He only pulls away once he needs air, but even then he doesn’t let you go. He pulls you forward, making you straddle his lap as he kisses your cheeks, your nose, the column of your throat. You relish in his touches, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging gently at the silky strands.
“We should probably stop,” you whisper, when a particularly sharp nip at your neck elicits a soft moan from you. “Seokmin’s standing outside.”
“Fuck him,” Mingyu says. He presses another kiss on your jaw, looking up at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the universe.
You roll your eyes affectionately at him. “C’mon. I don’t want to scar him for life.”
“Who cares?”
“I care,” you say, slowly getting off his lap. Already you can feel the absence of his warmth.
“Fine,” he agrees, once you stand up fully and brush yourself off. “I love you.”
Warmth shoots up your chest and onto your cheeks and neck. Your heart swells, and you find yourself grinning involuntarily. “I love you, too.”
“Good.” Mingyu stands up and pecks your cheek. “Now let’s go save Seokmin from his misery.”
(Later, if you find Seokmin with bright pink ears as he pointedly avoids yours and Mingyu’s gaze, that’s no one’s business but his.)
EIGHTEEN
Mingyu sucks on a sweet spot right underneath your ear and you can practically hear his smirk when you let out a whine. You fist your hand in the sheets, feeling the soft material crinkle underneath your fingertips.
“Such a tease,” you whisper out.
He lowers his head, nips at your neck and then runs his tongue over the spot, soothing it. “So you’ve mentioned.”
Your retort dies on your lips when he moves lower and lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. You whine again when his fingers find your nipple, pinching the bud lightly in between his thumb and forefingers. He moves lower, breath ghosting over your abdomen and belly button, until he finally comes face to face with your clothed pussy.
He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties, nails scraping against your skin. You squirm under his touch, lifting your hips to help him pull the flimsy garment down your legs and toss it to the side. Mingyu sucks in a breath sharply when he sees your exposed cunt—despite already having seen it before, and you feel a rush of pride at the fact that you still have this effect on him. “So pretty,” he murmurs, eyeing your folds hungrily.
Mingyu works on your clit expertly, thumb rubbing against the nub, eliciting a loud moan from you. He licks a stripe up your folds, grinning when your hand automatically finds itself in his hair again. When he finds you’re wet enough, he slides a finger in. You inhale sharply, hole clenching around the digit. He circles his thumb around your clit once more, before sliding another finger in.
You gasp at that, tightening the hand in his hair. Mingyu leans forward, swiping at your clit with his tongue one more time and pulling both his fingers out at the same time. He relishes in the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling proud that you’re not trying to hide anything from him. You’re completely under his mercy, as is he when it comes to you.
He slides both the fingers back in, hissing when your walls contract against them, pumping the digits in and out a few more times. The way you moan—because of him—makes him finger your hole faster, enjoying the way your moans increase in pitch. When he sees your eyes beginning to cloud over, Mingyu quickly withdraws his fingers. You whimper at the loss of his touch and he chuckles. “Patience, baby. Don’t want you to cum just yet.”
Your head falls back on the pillow and you mutter a string of incoherent words under your breath. “Look at me,” Mingyu tuts.
You lift up your neck curiously. Mingyu waits for your eyes to land on his lips before he slowly, deliberately puts his two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and licking your juices off. He doesn’t fail to notice the way you bite your lip at the sight.
Once he pulls his fingers out, Mingyu bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Are you even gonna fuck me, Gyu?” you grit out, and his eyes widen.
“Call me that again,” he orders.
“Fuck me, Gyu.” Your voice is borderline a whimper, and, well—who is Mingyu to prevent you from getting what you desire? After all, he’s always been a little weak when it comes to you.
He gets on his knees, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. He pumps it a few times, groaning softly, before positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re on the pill?”
“Yes.” You nod almost desperately, waiting for him to slide it all the way in.
Mingyu enters you slowly—the pace is almost unbearable—but he shudders when he feels your walls against his dick. You grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. A loud moan escapes your lips when he jerks his hips forward, his cock pressing into your cervix. Your eyes screw shut, and Mingyu grunts, pulling out and thrusting back inside with more force. Almost unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his hips, granting him more access to your hole and allowing him to push himself deeper inside you.
He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud. You gasp out moans wantonly, and it spurs him to thrust faster and faster inside you. He watches you fall apart on him, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips when your moans become interspersed with chants of his name.
Your grip on his shoulders tighten and the muscles flex under your hold. Your cries reach a crescendo with one particularly sharp thrust; Mingyu can tell your climax is approaching.
He speeds up, pumping into you with as much strength as he can muster. Your nails leave white-hot trails along his back, his shoulders—you try to hold onto him as best as you can. You cry for more, beg him to keep going. A bit redundant, in his opinion—he has no plans of stopping until you’ve orgasmed.
Mingyu thrusts into you one last time, throwing you over the edge. Your walls clench around his cock tightly, black stars floating in your vision as you cry out his name. He pumps into you weakly, letting you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own high. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, and when your walls tighten around him, he comes inside you, his movements coming to a pause.
You stroke his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, both of you catching your breaths. He remains sheathed in you, even as he pulls you onto your side so both your chests are touching.
“Feel good?” he asks, one hand carding through your hair gently.
You let out a tired, but satisfied hum, smiling softly at Mingyu.
You spend the night curled up in his arms. He sleeps soundly next to you, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and hands wrapped protectively around your figure. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounds against your ear, and you smile, even in your sleep.
NINETEEN
“You have your thinking face on.” Your boyfriend saunters into the kitchen, a knowing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at him.
“You can’t tell me you don’t see it too,” you say pointedly, waving your wooden spatula at him.
Mingyu chuckles, moving over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “What, that Seokmin and Jihyo are meant to be? That smells amazing, by the way, love.”
“Yes,” you huff out, stirring the soup inside the pot boiling on the stove. “And thank you.”
From the living room, you can hear your two friends laughing over something you couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. Jihyo still lives in another city, but she comes over to visit whenever she can. You and Seokmin remain friends, and he often comes over whenever you, Mingyu and Jihyo decide to hang out—though, you suspect his enthusiasm to join you three has more to do with one particular person rather than the entire group.
“If you say so,” Mingyu agrees. “I think they’re just friends.”
“Friends don’t look at each other that way,” you say matter-of-factly.
“Really? I seem to recall him looking at you the exact same way not too long ago.”
“That’s different, Gyu. Here, can you taste some? I don’t want it to be too salty.” Grabbing a large spoon, you dip it in the pot and offer it to Mingyu.
He obliges, letting you shove the spoonful into his mouth—and yelps almost immediately. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was hot.”
You only raise an eyebrow at him, but a small hint of amusement dances in your eyes. “How does it taste?”
Mingyu rolls his eyes at you but rests his chin on your shoulder; his hair tickles your ear. “It tastes amazing as always, love.”
“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”
“I’m offended you think I would lie to you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you deadpan, and it makes Mingyu giggle.
“I’m serious, it tastes good.” He smiles at you, peeling himself away from you. “Let’s go join the other two.”
“Coming.” You put the stove on simmer and grab Mingyu’s extended hand. His fingers slot in between yours easily. Your lips curl upwards on their own accord, and your heart feels so full, it’s close to bursting.
You’re there, in a room with all your favourite people, and it’s perfect.
The very first night you and Mingyu broke up is pushed to the back of your mind, never to slip out of the corner you’ve tucked it into. The nights after made up for it, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You rebuild the promises you made and make new ones along the way.
You’d write it in the sky if you could, but you and Mingyu don’t need that.
author's note: this fic was such a wild ride. from start to finish, i kept writing, rewriting, and editing, so i hope you enjoyed reading this! thank you to my two best friends who helped me out whenever i got stuck and gave me new ideas for scenes; this fic wouldn't have seen the light of day if not for you guys! ♡ i also want to thank every single person who asked to be tagged in this; all of you gave me the motivation i needed to finish this. thank you for reading!
tag list: @matchahyuck | @minnie-mouser22 | @christinewithluv | @minghaossv | @ohmyhuenings | @appachicken | @sulkygyu | @p-dwiddle | @leeshineil | @yooririka | @kannisworld | @xcynthiaaa | @tis-niki | @vvaalleennttiinna | @ackermans-brat | @itsrachelsplace | @tastymintchocolate | @soohyukazz | @bbyboibinnie | @joonsytip | @binwons | @littleduckdropsposts | @leewonkyeom | @haolistic | @slut4donghyuck | @spicybangtanwings | @thes0obincafe | @mingyusito | @notscoupy | @jeonghansneez (bold couldn't be tagged)
More Posts from Hans0ul and Others
birthday bash ask!!~
let’s eat (🤤)- sarrrr this is dangerous!! i’m going to have to request mr kim mingyu (you know!!) and i’ll let you decide on a prompt(s) to use! (trust you with my all! gimme a dm if u want me to choose hehe)
5:13 p.m. — kim mingyu
prompt. “you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me. “
wc. 955
warning. mingyu fucks reader in a dryer (very unrealistic), needy!gyu, baby fever + marriage kink (my fav combo), use of mommy [x1], unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, SO much dirty talk, pet names [baby, angel] — MINORS DNI 18+
note. thank u for sending in an ask lu,, i’m so sorry if you dont like the piece or the prompt i used !!! i know it’s a lil intense and lacks a lot of detail 😭 i was in the mood to write needy gyu with baby fever without thinking abt logistics so,,, here it is (also im sorry it’s so short </3) [not proofread if u see a typo, i literally didn’t write this]
mingyu is a sucker. you’re not sure there’s a diagnosis for what he has other than a severe case of baby fever. it's not when he sees babies that sets him off, no, it’s you. you doing anything remotely domestic like chores around the house for that matter. when you’re cooking him dinner, loading the dishwasher, dusting and sweeping in your cute little house slippers, and his personal favorite, unloading the dryer.
to put it simply, he just can’t wait to give you a baby so he can come home and spoil his gorgeous little family. the mere mention of even wanting a future with him has him weak in the knees.
it’s why your his shirt is flipped over your ass and your panties are pushed halfway down your legs the second he finds you in the laundry room. “gyu, what the fuck are you– ah!” you cry out feeling his spit-slicked cock slip inside of you. you fall into the pile of warm clothes, the smell of clean linen filling your nose. “baby!”
mingyu groans, cock twitching at the word that’s had his head spinning for weeks, “that’s right, ‘m gonna give you a baby, angel,” he says, hands gripping your hips for dear life, the flesh of your skin nearly interlaced between his fingers.
you moan loudly, but it’s muffled by the wild white sheets in the machine. your skin burns up as if it weren’t already on fire thanks to the fresh heat of the dryer. you knew mingyu was ruthless and needy when it came to getting his dick wet, but never would you have thought you’d be in this position as he pounds into you.
“fuck, i love you so much. love you and this fucking pussy so so much. ‘m gonna fill you up ‘n ‘m gonna marry you,” he mutters, eyes watching the way you swallow his dick whole, disappearing as it goes in and out. “gonna make you a pretty little mommy, make you my fuckin’ wife.”
you’re partially convinced that your boyfriend has gone crazy, but the words head straight to your core, the increase in your arousal solidifying everything mingyu had said.
his breathing becomes labored, soft moans growing louder as they morph into deep groans. your ears pick all of it up even with the walls of the dryer attempting to drown him out. “tell me you wan’ it, angel, t-tell me you wan’na baby, a pretty ring… tell me you want me forever.”
you just can’t say no, the offer is too good. you want everything and more with this man, so you tell him exactly what he wants to hear. “i do, i wan’ it, gyu, w-wanna make you a d-dad! w-wanna marry you!”
a guttural groan erupts in his chest and his thrusts pick up, the tip of his cock ramming into your cervix eliciting a loud, muffled cry as you scream into the cloth. “baby, you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me.” he babbles, overstimulated tears pricking at his eyes. “i’m so close, angel. gonna fill this cunt with all my cum ‘n get you pregnant. it’s gonna take. s-swear to fucking god, it’s gonna take.”
your hands mercilessly fist at the cotton, wrinkling it in your tight grasp. you think the heat from the freshly dried sheets melts your brain because now you’re sobbing, incoherently babbling out pleas, but the only thing that can be heard in the mess of your words is the chant of his nickname, “gyu, gyu, gyu!” you clench tightly around his cock, gummy walls molding to the shape of him as they’re made to.
and, fuck, mingyu’s abdomen tightens at the euphoric feeling. his balls draw up, thrusts turning sloppy and inconsistent as he fucks into you. “shit, baby,” he mewls, his grip on your hips near bruising. “i’m gonna cum.”
all it takes is another tight hug from your cunt and he’s a mess. his cock throbs inside the heat of your stretched cunt before he slams into you and stills, his tip pressed right against your cervix as he empties his load.
it’s the ripple effect that triggers your own orgasm. you moan and whine as you feel his heavy seed filling you to the brim and painting your used walls white. all the while, the knot that’s been steadily forming in the pit of your tummy completely unravels and you’re left a shaking, crying mess inside a dryer full of wrinkled, tear soaked cotton.
it takes him longer than usual to come down from his orgasm, but he eventually eases his grip on your waist as he finds his mind again. he pulls your near-limp body out of the dryer and you let out a broken whine as you feel his cock slip out, creating a mess of cum on the ground. he doesn’t really mind seeing his load go to waste knowing he’ll pump you full the second you’ve recovered.
you slump in his arms while he wordlessly presses kisses into your hair. when you whine again, he murmurs apologetically. “sorry i was so rough, are you okay?”
you nod, still trying to catch your breath and regain stability. “it’s okay. i’m okay. just need a sec,”
he doesn’t say anything for a minute or so, holding you in his arms till you’re able to stand on your own but then he whispers. “can we go again? are you up for it?”
you laugh softly at his need. “we can, but can we try the bed this time? do you think you’ll make it to our room without fucking me against one of the walls?”
he shrugs, grinning to himself. “we’ll see.”
© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.
breakfast with jeonghan
lucky girl
pairing : model!jeonghan x fem!reader
content : smut (mdni), angst, fluff, fake dating, unrequited (but not rlly) love, friends to strangers to lovers
in which : jeonghan has no interest in a relationship, however it seems that everyone else is sticking their nose into his nonexistent love life. you’ve been in love with him for as long as you can remember, but that was ages ago. he shouldn’t remember someone like you, but he does. and he wants you to be his girlfriend (just for a little while though, right?)
warnings : public sex TWICE (this mf fucks u everywhere but a BED), couch sex (see what i mean???), oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe i’m begging), idiots in love vibes like so strongly you two are dorks fr, dirty talk, y’all want each other so bad, praise, cockiness, like one innuendo, a bunch of other idols make features in this (twice, txt, le sserafim, and svt ofc), mentions of rehab, crying, “arguing”, jealousy, pining and yearning and things of that nature
wc : 14.9K words
note : this took me so much longer than i thought it would but it’s finally here 😭😭 written from this request
Junior year of highschool is when you first fell in love with Yoon Jeonghan.
You were the new girl. The transfer student. The awkward, hormonal, sixteen year old girl who felt oh so small in such a big school. The nobody.
Pretending like the lingering stares, the pointing, the whispering—all of it—was just a figment of your imagination was easy. You had been used to tuning things out. At acting like it didn’t phase you.
Private school was different than public school. Too different. The only reason you were in this place is because you were sent to live with your aunt because of the fact that your mother was in rehab and your dad wasn’t in the picture. Many of the public schools in the area weren’t the best, so she pulled some extra money from her savings to send you one of the nicer, private schools.
You were grateful, for her concern regarding where you went to school, but the huge contrast from transitioning to this new place was anything but easy. You may have looked just like everyone else, but you never felt like them. A bunch of self obsessed, privileged, stuck up rich kids. Yeah, you weren’t that. Not by a long shot. It’s like they could tell you didn’t belong here, but you already knew that.
All of them except for him.
Jeonghan had heard the mumbled talk of your arrival since he arrived on campus. He didn’t get what the big idea was. New kids came all the time, bought their way in with mommy and daddy’s help. Each and every other student here was one in the same. Predictable. Boring.
“Shit, look, there she is,” Joshua whispered amongst the small group of boys, his head jerking in your direction. The rest of them—Minghao, Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Jeonghan—all spared you a single glance or two.
Minghao chuckled dryly. “She’s gonna get eaten alive.”
"She's kinda hot though, don’t you think?" Soonyoung mumbled, trailing his eyes over your body. "That skirt is way too small for her."
“It’s like six in the morning. Can you not be horny right now?” Mingyu sighed, yet Soonyoung’s gaze remained on you until you disappeared from his line of sight. Jeonghan remained silent.
Joshua nudged his friend. “What? You have nothing to say?”
“What is there to say?” Jeonghan asked, swirling around his iced coffee that had been way too expensive to taste so cheap. “She’s a girl and she’s new.” Soonyoung booed him, loudly, attracting the attention of other passing students.
“You’re no fun.” He said and crossed his arms. Jeonghan gave him no response. “Whatever. How long do you think she’ll last?”
“I’ll give her until the end of the day,” Mingyu nodded. The others looked at him in disbelief, which made the boy roll his eyes. “What? I’m an optimist.”
Soonyoung hummed in thought, weighing his available options. “Four hours max.”
Minghao shook his head. “Two and a half.”
“I’m gonna say…One hour.” Joshua added. Then they all turned their heads to Jeonghan. He didn’t respond until the staring became unbearable.
“God, you’re all such pessimists, you know that?” He scoffed. “I’m not doing this with you today.”
“You have faith in her,” Minghao teased, poking the older boy in the side. “You’re so easy to read.”
“Cut that shit out.” Jeonghan hissed, pushing away Minghao’s hand. Minghao, Mingyu, and Joshua giggled. He was so easy to piss off.
“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Soonyoung cracked his knuckles with a confident—bordering on arrogant—smile.
“Seriously, don’t—” Minghao sighed, but the other boy was beyond reason. By the time he even said anything, Soonyoung was literally in your face.
The expression on your face was pensive, relaxed even. Until…
“Hey, new girl.”
You looked up, your eyes looking over him with disinterest. Soonyoung cleared his throat when you didn’t reply, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to relieve the awkward atmosphere.
“I’m Soonyoung, but you can call me Hoshi.”
“No.” You deadpanned.
His eyes widened. Were you serious? He could hear the others trying to keep in their laughter behind him.
“Is there something you need?” You asked, raising one of your eyebrows. Soonyoung stammered, only managing to speak the words “I…” or “what?” before he sighed and lowered his head.
“Hoshi, are you done making yourself look stupid yet?” Mingyu shouted, stopping between almost every word so he could laugh. By now, there was an even bigger scene being made by Mingyu’s additional comment, much to your embarrassment.
“Excuse me,” you mumbled to him as you scurried off to the bathroom, leaving not only Soonyoung shocked but also the little audience you had gathered shocked as well.
“Wow, what a smooth talker.” Joshua clapped, a wide grin on his face. “She was all over you.”
Minghao giggled. “I recorded the entire thing. Hey, who should I send this to first?”
“Oh fuck off,” Soonyoung hissed, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Nobody needs to see that shit.”
“Right, like half the school hasn’t already.” Jeonghan gestured to the multitude of people still lingering around in the hallways, huddled in groups whispering about the events that had just happened. Glancing at Joshua after you were gone, he smirked.
“So?” Joshua asked. “What’s your judgement?”
Jeonghan sipped the last of his drink, shaking it around and poking at the ice with his straw to see if there was any left. When he discovered none, he discarded the cup in the trash and crossed his arms over his chest. “I like her.”
You spent very little time in the bathroom, your visit only being to calm your nerves and steady your thoughts, but you didn’t expect to see the same boy and the rest of his friends huddled outside the bathroom waiting for you.
Wide-eyed, you stared between the five of them.“Um…hello?”
“Hi!” Mingyu smiled at you brightly, side eyeing Jeonghan when he nudged him aside. A quiet gasp slips past your lips; this boy was gorgeous.
“I assume you have a name? Or should we continue calling you new girl?”
“My name…?” You repeated, feeling your body growing warm at the proximity between the two of you. “Oh, my name. I’m [Y/n].” Jeonghan nodded, and then he smiled at you. You felt even hotter now. A little dumb, too, certain that you were embarrassing yourself.
“That’s cute,” he said, still smiling softly. Jeonghan threw one of his arms over your shoulder, keeping you close to him as he and the rest of his friends started to walk down the hallway. “So then, you’ll sit with us at lunch, right [Y/n]?” You stared at him, dumbfounded, unable to believe that he was actually being serious with you. Soonyoung, finding this funny, couldn’t help but laugh.
“Who’s stammering now?” He quipped, earning him a glare from Jeonghan. Soonyoung didn’t speak again.
“Sit with you?” You asked again, and Jeonghan nodded. “Are you sure?” Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on you as you were basically escorted down the hall with Jeonghan at your side, except this time it wasn’t your imagination. For some reason it felt like you were being stared at now more than ever.
“Of course we’re sure.” Joshua reassured you. When he looked close enough to fully take in the look on your face, he gave you a smile that was full of sympathy. “Ignore them. They’re all assholes. We’re the nice ones!”
Joshua was right, in a way. Jeonghan and his friends were the nicest group of assholes you’ve ever been associated with. It was one of those “mean to everyone except you” type of dynamics, especially with Jeonghan himself. You knew it wasn’t wise to, but you couldn’t help how your heart would beat faster whenever he was around since he only seemed to regard you as a close friend and nothing more.
You also couldn’t help but notice that he was as oblivious as he was cute. The others noticed, (Joshua was the first, obviously, then Minghao, then Mingyu, and then Soonyoung, who was heartbroken that you’d choose Jeonghan over him, and you didn’t know if he was joking or not) but he seemed like the only one who couldn’t get a hint. Even when you were being as direct and obvious as possible, Jeonghan still remained as unaffected by your affection as a white crayon did on white paper.
By senior year, you and Jeonghan started to grow apart. It was gradual, falling out of touch with one another as the last school year just passed you both by, until it seemed like Jeonghan was once again nothing but the cute boy you knew nothing about like he had been on your first day. The rest of the boys were devastated, Joshua most of all.
Aside from you, it seemed like he was the one who wanted Jeonghan to quit being dull and realize you liked him. Just tell him already, that’s what he’d always say. You always said you would, only to end up doing the opposite.
What if Jeonghan didn’t feel the same way? What if it destroyed your friendship? What if he never wanted anything to do with you after you told him? Each question seemed more unbearable than the last. It was easier to love him than to lose him.
The last time you saw him was at graduation. After the ceremony, roaming around the parking lot past all the smiling families taking pictures of their children with their brand new diplomas, looking for your aunt’s car—you ran into him.
“[Y/n]!” He called out to you, waving both of his arms in the air to draw your attention. He hugged you once you were close enough, squeezing you a little bit. “I’m sad now, we’re not going to see each other every day anymore,” he pouted, and you smiled, even though the thought of that saddened you just as much.
Having him act so naturally with you threw you for such a loop. Talking to him like this made it feel like your friendship hadn’t come to an end, like you two were old friends who had never been apart.
“Don’t be sad. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” You continued to smile, trying hard to make sure it didn’t look fake. You needed to believe what you were saying if you wanted him to do the same. Luckily for you it seemed effective, because Jeonghan’s face soon broke into a smile as well before he held his pinky up to you.
“Promise?”
Now you were smiling for real. Jeonghan, at the ripe age of eighteen, still believed deeply in pinky promises. They were sacred, never to be broken, those were his words. Others may have found him childish for this, you found it noble.
Nodding, you linked your pinky with his. “Promise.”
The promise you made with Jeonghan turned five today. Five years since senior year ended, five years since you made that promise with him, five years since you’ve seen Yoon Jeonghan’s face in person.
Now you saw him everywhere; on billboards, in ads, plastered on posters in the windows of just about every store—everywhere you went, Jeonghan’s face was sure to be there.
He was certainly doing better than you, no doubt. Odds are he wouldn’t even recognize you anymore. You worked at the local Ihop, drive your aunt’s old Toyota Camry, trying to save up enough money to move out of her house and into your own apartment.
You had wanted to attend college, even if only for a little, but your aunt only had enough money stashed away to send you to that ridiculously pricey private school, not to mention room she was already taking care of you for your mom while she was still…away, and you couldn’t afford to go into debt or pay anyone back.
So while Jeonghan walked runways in Milan and New York, you stayed in town and missed him every time his name was mentioned by one of your coworkers, forcing away the feelings you harbored for him.
Something like that was bound to happen to him, though. He was already so handsome, and his parents no doubt had the connections needed to allow something like that for their son. You were happy for him. Even after all this time, you continued to remain his biggest supporter. You’d buy every product he endorsed, watch any content he was featured in, and you’d stare at his pictures in awe, unable to believe that he just always seemed to get more and more good looking.
To Jeonghan, it was different. He enjoyed the attention. He liked being told by other people how handsome he was. He liked having people who adored him. But that was about it. Not once did he enjoy waking up early, rushing from shoot to shoot, sitting through meetings, none of it. He could live without the pressure to keep smiling, or the nagging from his parents, or—worst of all—the questions on his love life.
Jeonghan had never dated anyone since becoming a model, not even in private. There were zero scandals regarding a romantic relationship when it came to him, but the media was still unconvinced. He wondered how or why they always found the time to be so nosy. Why couldn’t they understand that’s just not what he was looking for right now?
“So Jeonghan, I think you all know the question on every one of our minds, right?” Jihyo asked with a smile, shifting around in her seat a little. Jeonghan responded with his convincing fake laughs—he had to have them mastered by now after all the invasive questions he’d constantly be asked by people like the paparazzi, or in this case, talk-show hosts. “Is there a special girl in your life that you’re hiding from us?”
The audience erupted into a fit of “ooo’s” and “aah’s” all while Jeonghan tried to hide his discomfort with the subject. “Honestly, Jihyo? There really is nobody right now. I’m just…not interested in dating.”
“Oh, come on! Are you sure you’re not seeing anyone in secret?” The sound of Jihyo’s laughter echoed through the studio as is blended with the reactions from the audience. Jeonghan laughed along with her, wondering how much longer he’d be here. He’d already had to have a long meeting with his parents and his agency this morning, then done a product endorsement for a cosmetics brand afterwards, and now he was here, entertaining Jihyo and her live studio audience. Today was relatively low maintenance for him, so after he left here there was only one thing he wanted to do before going home; eat.
Jeonghan shook his head, a small smile on his face. “If I were seeing someone, they wouldn’t be a secret.”
Jihyo’s face lit up in surprise, her mouth parting as she took in his response. “Wow! It seems like Jeonghan is that kind of boyfriend, huh?” Various reactions came from the crowd, most of them being screams of Jeonghan’s name praising him for his response. “All right, that’s all the time we have for today, but tune in tomorrow to hear Jo Yuri talk about her acting debut! That’s all for now!”
“Alright, that’s it people! Let’s wrap it up!”
Jeonghan exhaled with relief, saying a polite goodbye to Jihyo before he excused himself off the set and to his car. He cursed when he noticed how dark the sky was beginning to get. Most of the places he wanted to go would be closing by now. He thought hard to remember the places that stayed open late, then remembered that the local Ihop was always open. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the place, not by a long shot, but he’d just have to suck it up for the sake of his hunger.
Business at work had been slow today. It was only Monday, and you never got too much of a crowd during the start of the week, especially not when it was so early in the morning. Chaewon had suggested the two of you take a short break in the bathroom (though knowing her, she just wanted to gossip).
“No way, [Y/n]. You’re telling me you really knew Jeonghan in high school?” Chaewon asked you, leaning against the bathroom sink as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. “What was he like?”
You shrugged as you washed your hands. “He was nice. Well, he was nice to me.” This made Chaewon gasp and grab onto your shoulder, pressing her lips together to try and hide the smile creeping onto her face.
“Oh my gosh, he was totally into you!”
Yoon Jeonghan? Into you? You laughed dryly, really finding your friend’s enthusiasm cute, but at the same time you seriously doubted it. If what he said in those interviews were true, there was no chance. He wasn’t interested in dating; in relationships altogether.
You were just about to respond to her when the door to the bathroom flew open. Sakura, your manager, was standing in the doorway staring at the two of you like she’d caught you doing something you shouldn’t have.
“What are you two still doing in here?” She asked. “Someone is waiting to have their order taken.”
“Coming,” you sighed, patting your hands dry with three paper towels too many and rushing out behind Sakura. You approached one of the booths closer to the entrance, notepad in hand. “Welcome to Ihop, what can I—”
The person sitting in the booth lowers the menu, and time seems to stop. He looks up at you. You look down at him. It was like neither of you could believe you were seeing each other in this setting, of all places.
“Jeong…han?” You mumbled, blinking rapidly to see if he was really the person sitting there. He couldn’t really be here, could he? But then he smirked and you were convinced; he was real.
“It’s good to see you too, [Y/n].” He muses, flipping back and forth through the menu a few more times before setting in down on the table. He soaks in the dumbfounded look on your face with an overly smug smile. “Don’t just stand there, sit.”
“I’m the waitress, I can’t just—”
“Sit.”
You slid down into the seat across from him without missing a beat. A part of you felt embarrassed for giving into him so easily, the part of you with dignity.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, which got you an amused laugh from Jeonghan.
“I’m hungry, [Y/n]. Why else do people come to Ihop?”
Well, it was good to know he was still a smart ass after all this time. Even if you were attracted to him, then and now, you still couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Okay, you know that’s not what I mean.”
Jeonghan tilted his head to one side. “I live here too, remember?” Then he sighed and laughed weakly. “Has it really been that long?”
A frown found its way onto your lips. Maybe it has been that long, it was like Jeonghan was suddenly a stranger to you even after the time you’d spent together in school. Thinking about that made something inside of you ache.
“I guess it has.” You mumbled. Your eyes remained locked on the table and not Jeonghan, not even when he started to give you his order. Sliding out of the seat, you gave him your usual service industry smile. “I’ll be right back with that.”
You scrambled to the kitchen, handing off the order to the cooks. “Hey, Chaewon, can you go bring the customer out there his drink?”
Slightly skeptical, Chaewon glanced down at the glass in your hand yet took it anyway. “Why can’t you go bring it to him? You already took his order.”
“Just help me out, okay? Just this once?” The girl sighed, mumbling under her breath as she exited the kitchen. You try to take this moment to finally catch your breath and calm your nerves, but it’s quickly ruined when you hear a shriek, followed by Chaewon running back to the kitchen, a starstruck look on her face.
“Yoon Jeonghan is in our restaurant,” she says, her hand clutching the front of her shirt. “And he’s asking for you, [Y/n].”
Of course he’s asking for you. There was no way you’d get out of this little reunion with him so easily. Jeonghan never let things be simple, you’d learned that quickly from your time being friends with him.
“Just bring the food once it’s ready, Chae,” you muttered, walking out of the kitchen and back to the booth Jeonghan was seated at. He looked up at you, pointing to the spot across from him, and you sat. “Is there something you want from me, Jeonghan?”
“Just some company,” He replied with a faux pout. He noticed that you were still looking at him like you could see through his lie, so he shrugged and smiled. “Okay, fine. I really did come here to eat, but I do need help with something else too.”
Raising your eyebrows, you urged him to continue. “I need you to be my girlfriend.” If you had opened your eyes any wider, they probably might have popped out of your head.
“W-What?” You shouted. Jeonghan put one of his fingers to his lips to shush you, which only helped to get you quiet and not to calm your racing heart. “But you’re always saying…”
“Listen,” He held one of your hand with both of his. “I know, I know. I’m always saying I’m not looking to date right now. But that’s exactly why I need you. I’m hoping to get everyone off my fucking back even if it’s just for a little while. Once the news of our relationship dies down, we can call it quits.”
You felt like this was a really vivid dream; like your subconscious was playing an elaborate trick on you and that none of this was actually real. Jeonghan squeezed your hand and looked at you expectantly. This must’ve been really important to him, and he was counting on you. Curse your simple heart, seven years had passed and you still felt like the love struck sixteen year old you were when you first met him.
This was a bad idea. No, this was a terrible idea. You should tell him that. There is no way you should say—
“Okay, fine. But only until the news dies down.”
Jeonghan grinned, visibly pleased with your response.
“I knew I could count on you.”
Thinking with your brain was always hard for you to do whenever you even thought about him, so having him make such a large request of you was basically keeping you from acting with any sort of rationality.
But Jeonghan didn’t need to know all that. You propped your elbow up on the cool surface of the table and leaned your head into the palm of your hand, swallowing down your apprehension. “What are friends for?”
When you woke up the next morning, the only thing on your mind was Jeonghan. Your interaction with him at your job hadn’t been a dream. He had asked you to be his (pretend) girlfriend, and you had agreed. You partly regretted the decision like you would a hangover, knowing that you still had feelings for him and telling him you’d go along with his plans could only end so many ways. You’d have to stop thinking with your heart so often.
In your moment of doubt, you received a text from Jeonghan. After he had finished his very late lunch yesterday, he tore off a piece of the receipt and scribbled down his phone number on it for you to keep, leaving you behind with a generous tip and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach. Fucking butterflies.
He’d also left you a very lovely, romantic text.
I’m picking you up at 7:45.
Ever the charmer. You checked the time; it was exactly 7. You groaned and hoped that this wouldn’t become an everyday thing, you didn’t even go into work this early.
Jeonghan ended up arriving outside your aunt’s house ten minutes later than he said he would, which only made you feel dumb for racing against the clock to make yourself look presentable.
He kept his eyes on you as you buckled up. “Good morning.” You side-eyed him, just barely making out the stupid lopsided grin on his lips.
“For you, maybe.”
“You’ll get used to it, I already have.”
So this would be an everyday thing. Great.
Accompanying Jeonghan around had given you a unique perspective on your own life. You had already thought there was a lot on your own plate, but Jeonghan, you weren’t sure how he handled it all. Sitting through meetings, fittings, hair and makeup, and photoshoot after photoshoot was tiring you out and you weren’t even the model.
You did like the rush of pride you got whenever Jeonghan introduced you as his girlfriend. Getting to see the shocked look on the faces of the people who worked beside him made you feel like you were important. If you didn’t have to get up so early all the time, maybe this was something you could get used to.
“It’s boring, right?” Jeonghan said, pulling you out of your thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
He sighed, waving away the man that was wiping off his makeup. “The sitting around, the waiting, all of it. You’re bored, aren’t you?”
You raised one of your eyebrows. “Why would you think I’m bored?” You asked. “Are you bored?”
“Obviously,” he scoffed in reply. “I would’ve rather done pretty much anything else. I mentioned being a model, like, one time and they just went with it. I didn’t wanna argue with my parents, though.” He shrugged, and that was it.
There was a sudden awkward tension in the air with Jeonghan’s overly honest confession. You glanced at the man who was in charge of removing his makeup, sharing a sheepish look with him before breaking eye contact. He was two for two on the eye opening revelations today, and you weren’t too sure you could handle a third.
Clearing your throat, you tried to think of a way to steer the conversation into a different direction. “So, uh, where to after this?”
“The gym. I would’ve gone tomorrow but Joshua said he’d meet me there.”
Finally, a break in this drag of a schedule of his. And you’d get to see Joshua. You could feel your boredom melting away like ice on a hot day as you got up and stretched.
“I’ll be in the car.”
So, about the visit to the gym…
It was fine at first. Normal. You greeted Joshua, hugged him, expressed how good it was to see him and how much you had missed him after all this time, and he smiled and done the same.
Speaking of Joshua, he had almost screamed when Jeonghan mentioned that you and him were seeing each other, and when he looked at you to confirm that he was telling the truth, he did scream, earning him confused and concerned stares from the people around you. Lying to him warded off the happy feeling you had built up on the way over here in a heartbeat, so you stayed silent for the duration of his workout with Jeonghan.
“Shit, dude, I gotta go. Something just came up,” Joshua apologized quickly and rushed out of the building, leaving just you, Jeonghan, and a small handful of other people rich or important enough to get into this private space.
You weren’t sure why, maybe it was the hot, sticky air of the gym. Maybe it was Jeonghan sitting there, all sweaty and panting and looking at you with that stupidly sexy smirk on his face. Maybe it was a bunch of other things you couldn’t bring your mind to conjure up the words for, but something was about to happen, you could feel it.
“I should shower.” Jeonghan suddenly said, parting his sweaty body from the machine he had been occupying. His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite place. “Wanna join?”
That’s the short version of how you ended up pressed up against the wall gym shower, your back to Jeonghan as he took you from behind. Your head spun with desire and a dash of shame. Even though it felt really good, you hadn’t even kissed Jeonghan once since declaring your status as (fake) girlfriend and boyfriend.
“Oh, baby. If I had known you felt this good I’d have done this ages ago,” Jeonghan moaned into your ear, and you could feel your knees buckle under you. That sweet-talking mouth of his would definitely be a problem for you, you were calling it now. Hearing such vulgar comments fall from his lips so naturally made you wonder why he was so good at this.
“F-Fuck, Jeonghan. Don’t stop…” The tiles of the small shower felt cold and wet against your skin, the feeling being the only thing keeping you somewhat grounded. Jeonghan’s hands held your hips tightly when you almost slipped as he mumbled something about being careful. If you weren’t in this position you’d have slapped him. “You’re not funny.”
Jeonghan isn’t bothered by your remark in the slightest. He snaps his hips forward, loving the way you gasp and push yourself back to meet his thrusts. He really thought you looked cute like this, so easily losing your composure because of him. He knew about the effect he could have on people, but none of them mattered now that he saw how you reacted to him. “Tell me how it feels baby.”
“So good, Jeonghan. F-Feels so fucking good.” You whined, your mine tuned in on the feeling of his wet skin against yours and the sounds of both of your moans.
“That’s right, feels so good. You’re so cute, you know that?”
Your muscles clenching around his cock when he said that was the one thing that seemed to have Jeonghan lose his cool. He nestled his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin there while he rubbed your clit in fast circles, urging you closer and closer to the bliss of your release.
“Gonna…I’m g-gonna—” You try to say only to be cut off by your own hoarse wail of Jeonghan’s name as your orgasm hits you. Afraid that you might fall, Jeonghan holds onto you even tighter all while continuing to fuck you through your high. He glances down, biting his lip at the sight of the white ring forming at the base of his cock and the streaks of cum streaking down your inner thighs. Never did he think a visual so filthy would get him off, but he couldn’t help but bite your shoulder and curse quietly as he felt himself cum.
The water had gone cold by now, making the realization of just how long you’d been in here weigh heavy on your mind. Jeonghan squeezed one of your hips before he pulled out of you and stepped out to find some towels. You turned off the cool water, leaning back against the same wall you’d just been fucked against and sighed.
Now you really couldn’t go back.
Out of nowhere, a hauntingly embarrassing thought crawled its way into your mind. “Oh no,” you gasped. “Jeonghan, what if someone heard us?” He just laughed at your panicked words.
“Private gym, private showers.” He explained, smiling when you visibly relaxed. “You make some pretty funny faces, has anyone ever told you that?”
You rolled your eyes, but there was a smile on your face. “Yeah, you have, back in school.” There had been many instances in your teenage years where Jeonghan had often laughed harder to your reactions to certain events more than the event itself, and he’d always tell you how “fascinating” your range of facial expressions were. History does repeat itself after all. “Has it really been that long?” Hearing the words he’d said to you the other day elicited a soft chuckle from Jeonghan as he pulled your body closer to his, wrapping one of the warm towels around your shivering frame.
You didn’t like the way your heart was beating faster at an action as simple as that as if he hadn’t just had his way with you in that little cubicle this place dared to call a shower, but you just laughed with him and hoped that he wouldn’t notice.
“I guess it has.”
When you returned to work on Friday, you received a warm welcome from your favorite coworker and best friend.
Translation: Chaewon screaming at the top of her lungs and shaking you back and forth.
“You didn’t tell me you’re DATING YOON JEONGHAN!” Her grip was entering bruise territory. “I thought we were friends!”
“Chaewon, please,” Sakura sighed, prying you out of her arms. “You’re dating that boy that came in the other day? What’s the big deal?”
Chaewon had never looked so shocked. Well, that’s a lie, but right now that’s just how her face looked. “The big deal is him! He’s literally everywhere, Sakura. He’s YOON JEONGHAN!”
The customers could no doubt hear her frantic screaming from the kitchen despite your best efforts to make her quiet down. Unfortunately trying to get Chaewon to calm down was like trying to get a penguin to fly.
“How do you even know about that anyway?” You asked. Chaewon held up a finger, quickly pulling her phone out of her pocket and typing a few words into google and hitting search. She held it out to you and Sakura, and your jaw dropped.
Pictures of you and Jeonghan leaving the gym together, hand in hand, along with a plethora of articles inquiring about your identity as Jeonghan’s girlfriend. Your face wasn’t visible in any of them, but anyone who knew you could tell that you were the one beside him in those photos.
“Oh, wow. Yeah, that’s you alright.” Sakura hummed without even sparing you a glance. “That’s nice. He’s a handsome guy. Good for you, [Y/n].”
You smiled, feeling a little awkward with all the sudden attention. “Thanks, Kkura.” You couldn’t even prepare yourself to be grabbed by Chaewon a second time, so you just let it happen.
“Tell. Me. Everything.”
“Uh…”
“You can talk after work,” Sakura sighed, pulling you away from Chaewon once again. “[Y/n]’s boyfriend will still be with her after her shift is over.”
You really hoped so.
For almost the entirety of your shift, you were somewhat unfocused on your actual job and more on the leaked pictures of you and Jeonghan. Never had you been used to having so much attention on you, especially over a guy. Of course, Jeonghan wasn’t just any guy, but still. All of the hype had to be because of what he’d always preached about not being interested in dating, no doubt, but other than that your sentiment was similar to that of your manager’s: what’s the big deal?
Chaewon also seemed off, though it was mostly only because she couldn’t wait to pick your brain about your relationship with the model. She kept looking at you and smiling for the entirety of your shift, and you’d just try and pretend you didn’t see her. It was working fine until you know who came back to pay you another unexpected visit.
“Hey, your boyfriend is here!” She whispered to you when you returned from a quick trip to the bathroom. You felt confused and surprised at the same time, he was supposed to be…anywhere but here right now. The stupid organ in your chest jumped when you considered the possibility that he was actually here for you.
Making your way to the front of the restaurant, Jeonghan stood there, hands in his pockets, looking pleased to see you.
“Jeonghan, what are you doing here?” He pouted at you.
“Is that the only question you know how to ask me?” You crossed your arms, not in the mood for his little games right now. “Sorry, fine. I wanted to see you. Make sure you’re handling the news well.”
“News…? Oh, that.” You weren’t too thrilled to talk about your sudden rise to fame even though it had been the only thing on your mind ever since finding out from Chaewon today. Kind of ironic. “It’s whatever, I guess. I mean, I couldn’t believe it when Chaewon showed me the pictures, but that was pretty much it.” You shrugged.
“Wow,” Jeonghan hummed. “Have you always been this blunt? Where’s the girl with the bob? I like her energy better.” He started to laugh, the sound only getting louder when you hit him on the chest. You knew didn’t hurt him, not even in the slightest, and his cute giggling only made you madder. Damn him and his smart mouth. “Just kidding, baby.”
And there he goes with the nicknames again. Seriously, damn him and his smart talking, filthy, mouth and all the words he’d speak with it to get you all flustered.
“You never answered me. Don’t you have a photo shoot or a fitting, or, I don’t know, somewhere else to be instead of Ihop on a Friday?”
Jeonghan just smiled at you. “Forgive me for wanting to just stop by and say hello to my girlfriend.”
“Jeonghan.”
Your eyes watched him as he tried to bite back the smile on his lips to no avail. He nodded slowly, seemingly getting the hint that you could always manage to see right through him. He didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing.
“Alright, alright. You remember that show I was on not too long ago? The one with Jiyho?” Of course you remembered. Chaewon had sent the link to the video once it was uploaded to youtube (like she did with everything involving Jeonghan) along with a bunch of incorrectly spelled words in all caps expressing her excitement and disbelief. He continued speaking once you nodded. “Yeah, so, she pretty much wants me back on the show…with you.” He puts his hands on your shoulders, waiting for you to object to the whole thing.
But you don’t object. You glance to the side once, then back at him, and shrug like you had done moments earlier. “Okay. I’m off on Wednesdays and Thursdays.” The man in front of you sighed and shook his head.
“She wants us there tomorrow. Can’t you get someone else to come in for you, or something?”
You exhaled a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Fine. But you owe me, okay? This is coming out of my paycheck.” The look of utter happiness on Jeonghan’s face whenever you give into him is something you think you’ll never get tired of seeing, like he really thought it’d take more convincing to get you to say yes. You’ve literally been wrapped around his finger since you were sixteen, it was honestly surprising that he had the nerve to explain himself to you sometimes when you damn near lacked the ability to say no to him.
“You’re the best,” he was still smiling when he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, okay? Wear something cute.”
You made some sort of strange yet quiet noise of acknowledgment, watching him with slightly parted lips as he walked out of the doors and back to his car. Jeonghan had just kissed you. On the forehead, yeah, but it was still a kiss. And not like he had kissed you in the shower, either, this one felt different. Tingly. You’d have probably stayed rooted to that spot if Sakura hadn’t started yelling for you to get back to work.
“Coming!”
Mornings always seemed to come too fast for you, especially when you were going anywhere with Jeonghan. Time had to be speeding up on purpose knowing that you were always rushing to get ready lest you make Jeonghan late to one of his unmissable and very important (that you were still shocked to discover how much he despised) events.
You were worried about wearing the “wrong thing” even though you had no idea you should wear for something like this and texted Jeonghan for help last night. He responded with a short explanation of what he’d be wearing and said that you could just wear whatever you thought would match or complement what he’d have on. And then he’d sent one more a few minutes after that. One that read:
good night [y/n] sleep thigh
You had responded with a series of question marks, expecting some kind of explanation or clarification, but he must’ve gone to sleep right after that because there was no response for the rest of the night.
So when you had settled yourself into the passenger seat of his car, you’d decide to question him about it now.
“Oh, I meant sleep tight,” Jeonghan told you. He pointed at the seatbelt, staring at you until you were buckled up and only then did the car start to move. “Were you really thinking about that all night? Even I make spelling mistakes, [Y/n].”
You could sense that he was about to start laughing even before you started talking. “No! I just…whatever, nevermind.” And you’d been right, Jeonghan laughed just like he always did whenever you seemed to make what you considered a fool of yourself in front of him. He noticed that you were frowning from the corner of his eye and placed one of his hands on your thigh. You flinched at the contact.
“What?” He asked, starting to pull it away, but you grabbed it and placed it back down.
“Nothing.” You shook your head. “It’s nothing. Your hands are just cold.” This made him smirk. He poked your cheek, your forearm, and your upper thigh, the smile on his face getting wider each time you shivered and tried to push it away. “Quit it!”
“You like it,” he was giggling now, and you were too. You didn’t even realize that you were until he had pointed to your mouth and laughed even harder. As long as Jeonghan had known you, you’d never giggled before. He joked that he was starting to rub off on you as he poked you with his cold fingers one more time. “I like that dress, by the way.” His hand found its way back to your thigh, feeling slightly less cold now. Maybe the heat of your body was warming him up, because you definitely felt hot right now.
“Thank you.”
“Mhm. You wore it just for me, didn’t you?”
Your eyes grew the slightest bit wider. That was partly the truth, yes. You’d also worn it because he’d told you to wear something nice and this dress just so happened to be one of the nicest pieces of clothing you owned that was appropriate for an event like this. The former option seemed to be the one he was more interested in though, seeing as how he was pushing up the hem of the dress and glancing at your underwear—and the wet patch on it.
“Well, yeah, you kinda told me to.” Jeonghan loved the fact that you were actively choosing to either ignore the fact that you were wet right now or pretend like it didn’t faze you. He pressed one of his (still somewhat cold) fingers on the spot and started to rub it, making you shiver and moan. “J-Jeonghan, you’re doing this now?”
“Ah, you know what? You’re right. My hands are still cold, aren’t they?” He mumbled, but his hand stayed placed firmly against your upper thigh. You hated the way you whined at his teasing and the way you craved more. “Aww, baby. I was just doing what you wanted. Are you mad at me now?”
“You’re literally the worst!” Huffing, you slapped his hand away and Jeonghan, stubborn as ever, just placed it right back down on your thigh. “Don’t touch me.” You tried sounding stern despite the way you were starting to grin, much to Jeonghan’s amusement.
“I owe you one, okay?” His voice was full of nothing but sincerity as he pulled the edges of your dress back down. “Put on a good show for Jihyo and I’ll let you cum as many times as you want later, deal?”
Your response came immediately, like you hadn’t even had to think about it. “Deal.”
Jihyo was even prettier in person. You weren’t used to seeing her without her hair in a bob, like Chaewon, but she seemed to be in the process of growing her hair out. Her skin was a little tanner in person and she had a smile that was kind and natural, which made you feel at ease.
“So, everyone, I’m sure you’ve all seen the pictures, right? Of Jeonghan and his supposed girlfriend?” Jihyo turned so that she faced the audience, nodding along at their responses. “I know, I saw them too, and when I tell you my jaw literally dropped. I was like, I’ve gotta get him back on the show. Well here he is, everyone! And with his mystery girl too!” She held one of her arms out and the audience erupted into applause seeing you and Jeonghan hand in hand walk onto the set. Jihyo clapped as well, watching the two of you the whole time while you took your seats beside each other.
“It’s good to be back, Jihyo. Thanks for having me.” Jeonghan was as polite as ever, his fingers still interlaced with your own. The woman just scoffed and shook her head.
“Oh, it’s nothing! You know how much of a joy you are to have on set.” Then she turned to you, eyebrows shooting up. “And you! What’s your name, sweetie?”
“I’m [Y/n].” The smile on your face was a little awkward, but the audience still received the interaction positively and applauded once more.
“Well [Y/n], aren’t you a lucky girl?” She leaned a little forward in her seat. “You’re doing what a lot of other girls could literally only dream of. How does it feel to be dating Jeonghan?”
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s like a dream come true. It’s perfect, in every sense of the word. And it’s all one big lie.
“It’s…it’s really crazy to think about it, you know? Like, I’m just a normal girl, but I’m dating him?” You ended your reply by gesturing to Jeonghan, both of you smiling. More clapping came from the audience. It seemed to be going well.
“That’s totally understandable. If I were you, I would’ve lost it. You probably did lose it a little, I would imagine, right?” You nodded at her question, recalling the day he had proposed the whole idea to you. Thinking about how you managed to keep your nerves under control in that situation amazed you, followed by a surge of pride for being able to keep up your act on nonchalance so well when in Jeonghan’s presence. So in Jihyo’s words, yeah, you did lose it just a little.
“Right, right. And you, mister, how long has this been going on?” Jihyo pointed one of her neatly manicured fingers right at Jeonghan. “I remember you saying you’d never keep that special someone a secret.”
Jeonghan leaned back and rested his hands flat on the arms of his chair. “[Y/n] wasn’t ready to be in the public eye. She was just nervous, and I’d never make her do something she didn’t want to. Forgive me.” Seeing the fake pout on his lips caused one to form on Jihyo’s face as well. He was pretty good at this lying on the spot stuff. Maybe a little too good.
“You sweet thing. What a considerate boyfriend. Anyone else feeling a little bit jealous right now?” Jihyo glanced at the audience, responding as eagerly as ever. “I’m definitely feeling a little envious. Like just a pinch. No, but seriously, I wanna know everything. Oh, tell us this: who fell in love first? I’m really curious.”
You sat up in your seat a little straighter. Should you answer? Should you tell the truth? Would Jeonghan finally get the hint you just confessed right now, or would he think you’re just playing along?
“I did.” You snapped your head in Jeonghan’s direction, and you felt tingly again. It didn’t help that he winked at you either, insinuating that this was yet another lie and that you should continue to act naturally. The audience was eating this up.
Jihyo held her hands over her open mouth, looking between you and the crowd. “Wow! I…just wow! I’m so shocked! I was expecting you to be the one who…” She couldn’t even finish speaking given her exasperation, but you could read between the lines. Jihyo wasn’t the only one thrown for a loop with his answer, you genuinely had no idea he would say that. “[Y/n], sweetie, did you know he was the one who liked you first?”
“No,” you were being honest for the first time. “I’m just as shocked as you are.” You look at Jeonghan once again, your eyes immediately noticing the smug look written all over his face. You didn’t like it.
A few more questions later, Jihyo announced that there was “no more time, sorry, i know,” and started to dismiss everyone on the set. You and Jeonghan gave her one last round of polite smiling and goodbyes before you let Jeonghan escort you back to his car. The difference in your moods was stark; Jeonghan seemed to be on cloud nine while you were still hung up over what he had told Jihyo earlier.
“Um, Jeonghan, about what you said back there…”
“I know, right! Did you see the faces of the people in the audience?” He looked so happy, sounded so happy. Anyone could tell he was enjoying the attention. You weren’t. You wanted answers.
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I saw them. They really just eat up anything you say, even if you’re lying.”
For the first time in a while, you noticed a dramatic change in Jeonghan’s expression. It was only for a second, maybe less, but it happened. Something like nervousness mixed with a dash of sadness and a pinch of guilt mixed together and slapped right onto the canvas of his face to create the masterpiece of his composure being lost. And then just as quickly as he let it fall, he slapped the mask back onto his face in the form of that carefree grin.
“I know, and I’m sorry baby. I’ll drop you off and then we’ll talk all about it.”
Jeonghan was good at keeping his promises. He kept the one you made at graduation to see you again—which was probably just dumb luck, but it counted. He kept the one he made to you after you left the gym and brought you to your favorite coffee place so you could a drink and a cake pop. He even kept the one he made to you in Junior year when you dropped Minghao’s phone in the pool (you both blamed it on Mingyu). He had not kept his promise to talk to you about what he said in the interview with Jihyo. You were too occupied with his other promise (technically, it was a deal) you’d made with him before that.
“You’re a natural on camera, baby,” He whispered into your ear, running his hands up and down your sides. Jeonghan had his hand down your underwear the whole drive back to your aunt’s house, and when he finally pulled into the driveway, you were scrambling into his lap. Seeing you so worked up made Jeonghan feel good. He leaned back the drivers seat and let you grind against his erection, flooding the inside of your mind until you could think of nothing but him. “I can tell they just loved you.”
“You really talk too much sometimes,” You mumbled. Jeonghan loved nothing more than when you talked back to him, it only made things more fun when he watched you fall apart on his cock in the moments that would follow. “You and your filthy mouth.”
“Shut me up then.”
Jeonghan licked his lips, and you watched him do so with bated breath. He was challenging you. Up until now, you had never kissed each other. You were afraid that if you did, some kind of invisible, imaginary line would be crossed and then it’d be that much harder to let him go. But what the hell, you’d already had him balls deep inside of you, what was a kiss compared to that?
His perfect, pink, lips were calling out to you like a siren does a sailor. There was no resistance when you finally kissed him, finally feeling the softness of his lips against your own. Jeonghan pulls you closer, the sudden friction between your bare core and his clothed cock making the two of you moan into the other’s mouth.
“Ride me,” He whispered with need. Need, you thought, Jeonghan needed this from you. This would’ve been the ideal time to tease him back considering his current state. But fuck, you needed him too.
Jeonghan helped you unbutton his pants and slide them down along with his boxers just enough for you to sink down onto his aching cock. It felt different, but not in a bad way. He felt so much deeper, so much better, so much closer.
He let a chuckle slip past his lips. “Your heart…it’s beating fast.” His ability to be snarky and annoying never seemed to escape him.
“Is yours not?” You asked him while you rocked your hips back and forth lazily. The last thing you wanted to do was rush this moment, this might be the last time you got to have him like this, you wanted it to last. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around one of your wrists and placed it flat against his chest.
His heart was beating just as fast as yours.
There was probably a word out there somewhere to properly convey the emotions you were feeling, not that you could think of it right now with the way Jeonghan was scrambling not only your insides—but your mind, too.
Neither of you spoke again after that. You became caught up in the moment, in the way each other felt. Jeonghan’s eyes fluttered closed when the motions of your hips became faster, the obscene sound of his moaning overpowering your own gasps and whines of pleasure. He looked a fucked out mess; swollen lips, dark eyes, messy hair, the whole nine yards. If your eyes could take pictures, you’d want a million of him in this moment.
Jeonghan couldn’t stop kissing you. He’d been waiting for you to take the initiative, to let go of your hesitation. And now he was addicted to you and the way you kissed him and slipped your tongue into his mouth like you just couldn’t get enough.
“‘M gonna fucking cum, baby,” he breathed, thrusting up into you without warning. You wrapped your arms around his neck, panting, feeling yourself get close too. He kissed you, sloppily, his dick bruising the spongy spot inside you until you were seeing white. No less than a few seconds later Jeonghan was doing the same, your sloppy cunt milking him dry. You stayed like that for a while, his forehead pressed to yours, until the speed and sound of your breathing fell into the same rhythm.
“I’ve gotta go,” is how he chose to break the silence, kissing you to silence your whine of protest. “I know, I’m sorry. But hey, my family is having a party in a few weeks. Some business shit, probably for publicity. I don’t know all the details, but they told me to bring you so they could finally meet you in person.”
You couldn’t muster any other response aside from a sigh. “I’ll be there.”
He kissed you one last time. “That’s my girl.”
One promise kept, another one broken.
“You know, that day you asked me to cover your shift, I didn’t expect it was because you were running off with your boyfriend to go on some talk show,” Yeonjun mumbled, taking the somewhat heavy box labeled “bathroom” out of your hands and walking it to that room. “It must be nice, right?” His voice echoed through the empty space of your new apartment.
“Why, you jealous?” You could hear him scoff all the way from the bathroom, making you and Chaewon laugh.
It’s been two weeks since you’ve heard from Jeonghan. His schedule has gotten increasingly busier ever since his reappearance on Jihyo’s show (which only made the news of your relationship more popular) , and you missed him for a multitude of reasons. One of them being that talk you never had about what he’d said that day. Every time you’d try to bring it up with him there was always a way he managed to weasel his way out of giving you an answer, so you’d given up trying at this point.
In better news, you’d finally managed to save up enough money to move out of your aunts house and into a decent little apartment downtown. It was kind of small, but it was just you, so you were fine with it. Today you’d finally started to move in most of your things. Joshua, Mingyu, and Soonyoung would come over tomorrow to help you set up your bed and shelves and other things that required the ability to decipher Ikea instructions. Minghao would come too, but not to help put anything together. He just wanted to scope out the place and advise you on the best way to decorate it.
So for now it was just you, your coworkers, and a couple of boxes containing the few things that you owned.
“What was it like seeing Jihyo in person?” Chaewon asked, taking a seat on the edge of the kitchen counter.
“She was nice. And pretty. She’s also more tan in person.” You replied. “I really need to go to the store, I’ve barely got any real furniture.” You stared into your box labeled “kitchen” and felt taunted by the plastic cutlery that rested inside.
There was a sudden knock at the door. You looked at Chaewon and she shrugged, just as clueless as you. You padded to the door, unlocking it and opening it just a crack. It was Jeonghan. Chaewon gasped, and you could hear her jump off of the counter and shuffle over to the doorway. He looked tired and a little annoyed standing there with his hands buried in his pockets. Today must’ve been one of his off days because he was dressed way more casually than he normally was.
“Hey baby. Hi Chaewon.” His voice sounded slightly deeper than you were used to hearing it. Chaewon waved tentatively from her position behind you. “Can I come in?” You took a step to the side, enough to let him come in, and he looked around the mostly empty space with an unreadable expression. “You never told me you moved out of your aunt’s place.”
“Right, yeah, sorry,” You shrugged. “You were just so busy, I didn’t want to bother you. It just slipped my mind.” Jeonghan just shook his head and leaned against the counter.
“It’s fine, I would’ve made time to stop by and help if I’d known. Would’ve been better than all the shit I’ve been doing.”
Chaewon stood awkwardly to the side, soon accompanied by a clueless Yeonjun who had just gotten over the initial shock of seeing Jeonghan inside your apartment. “Um…we should get going right now actually. We’ll come back another day, okay [Y/n]?” She smiled at you and waved to Jeonghan with a bit more confidence this time and yanked Yeonjun out of the apartment behind her by his wrist, shutting the door behind her with a kick of her foot.
The air suddenly felt a lot thicker.
“Do you think you could do me a favor?”
You hummed questioningly, watching Jeonghan’s head drop down and his gaze lower. You followed his eyes all the way down to the bulge in his pants. He frowned when you started laughing.
“This is funny to you?” You only laughed harder, one of your hands hovering over your mouth. “I don’t find anything funny about this.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you spoke through your laughs. “How did this even happen?”
He leans his head back and sighs. “I was thinking about you.” Your laughter immediately stops.
You’ve just come to two realizations.
1. Jeonghan admits he gets hard at the mere thought of you.
2. He came running here during one of his few days off because he wants your help dealing with it.
You felt a mix of things right now. Horny—obviously—but also proud, and kind of special. Weirdly enough, you liked the idea of Jeonghan running to you to find some sort of release. Or maybe you just really missed him in the wrong way.
“Come here.” Jeonghan beckons you closer, cupping your face in his hands and rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. “You’re so pretty…”
“You too,” came your mumbled reply. You reached down to palm him through his sweatpants, eliciting a drawn-out groan from Jeonghan. His hips bucked into your hand, one of his hands wrapped firmly around your wrist similarly to the way he’d done in the car. You slowly sank to your knees, never once breaking eye contact with him.
The sight of you on your knees, looking up at him through your eyelashes and your bottom lip between your teeth, Jeonghan could’ve blown a fucking load right then and there.
“Did you miss me, Hannie?”
Jeonghan sucked in a sharp breath when you yanked down his pants and boxers at the same time, exposing his cock to the cool air of your apartment. “I always miss you, baby.”
You paused for a moment and wondered if he really meant that, but with his dick literally in your face you came to the conclusion that maybe it wasn’t the best time to mull things over. You peppered his tip with kisses and ran your hands up and down the base. You’d almost forgotten how much you love it when he moans for you.
“S-so good…you’re so good to me,” he rested his hands on the top of your head, breathing shakily when you finally closed your lips around him. Just when he thought he couldn’t become any more addicted to you, you went and proved him wrong.
You choked and dug your fingers into his thighs at an unexpected show of force from Jeonghan, pushing his cock deeper down your throat with a thrust of his hips. A loud gag shot out of your mouth when it hit the back of your throat, tears starting to well up inside of your eyes. He would’ve apologized if he didn’t think you didn’t like the sight of you like this. “You’re fucking perfect,” he said it without thinking, too caught up in the moment.
A single tear trailed down your cheek. You moaned around him and he copied the sound, the vibrations making him shiver with pleasure. Your jaw was starting to hurt, just a little, but Jeonghan seemed too far gone go notice anything but his own need to cum down your throat. You whined as loudly as you could, and that’s when he finally seemed to get the memo.
His grip became the slightest bit looser, letting you wrap your hands around whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You feel kind of gross when you notice that there’s spit dripping down your chin, but Jeonghan thought it was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. He literally couldn’t take his eyes off of you, big brown eyes now dark with arousal.
“Will you be good and swallow for me, pretty girl?” He asked, though the question seemed entirely unnecessary given that you would’ve done so anyway. Nevertheless, you hummed in agreement, which was all he needed before the warmth of his cum spilled into your mouth. His body went limp once you tore yourself away from him and he leaned back against the countertop.
“I’ve never actually done that before, by the way,” you mentioned all too casually. Jeonghan stared at you, completely dumbfounded, like you hadn’t just sucked the soul out of him. Your face felt hot when you noticed his face. “What?”
“It’s kind of hard for me to believe that after what you just did, but okay.” He shook his head. “Oh, by the way, the party my parents are having is on a Thursday. Totally random, I know, but at lease you won’t have to call off and miss work. You can still make it, right?”
He really remembered that?
“Yeah…I can still come.” Jeonghan smiled and kissed the tip of your forehead. It made you giggle. Maybe he really was rubbing off on you after all.
“Perfect.” You expected that to be it and for him to leave you, but instead he picked up one of the boxes on the floor and began unpacking the contents inside. “Do you like it here?”
“Huh?” You pushed aside the shock you felt by him still being here to give a proper answer. “Oh, yeah. It’s nice. The people upstairs are kind of loud at night, though.”
Now he was giggling. You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Not that kind of loud, Jeonghan. You’re so gross.” He was smiling at you, totally unbothered.
“You love me.”
Oh, if only he knew.
.
Thursday has never come so fast. Time definitely had something against you, and this was the proof.
The venue for the party—some building as fancy as it was big located in the heart of the city—was hot with dim lights and hallways that were way too long. Dozens of people were lined up around the entrance with cameras and microphones. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them, even from the passengers seat of Jeonghan’s car, and he grumbled.
“The fucking press is still out here?”
It’s late in the evening. The sun is setting. They’ve been camping out here for days. These people are nothing if not devoted.
“You did say this was a publicity event,” you squeezed his hand. “We’ll just walk fast and smile.”
A smile broke onto his face. “I’ve only done that, like, three times.”
“I remember it being more than that, actually.”
He pouted at you, making you giggle. He was so cute it was almost unbelievable.
“Are you nervous?”
“Well, maybe just a little.” It wasn’t the party or the public that scared you, but the idea of meeting Jeonghan’s parents made your stomach churn. He eased your worries with a kiss, then another, and another.
“You’ll be fine. I promise.”
You wanted to believe him. You don’t know if you really do. There’s no fooling your brain, but your heart is much more easily swayed by his words. He holds your hand tightly as he leads you past the hundreds of cameras and people crying out your name followed by some of the strangest questions you’ve probably ever been asked—no, definitely ever been asked. You squint your eyes, allowing them to adjust to the low interior lighting, and you can see two people approaching. Jeonghan’s thumb rubs the back of your hand to soothe you.
“Ready?” He mumbles. You smile and nod.
“Not like I have a choice.”
“Jeonghan! [Y/n]! So happy you could make it.” His father greets you warmly, paired with a smile and a firm handshake. His mom is a bit less reserved with her affection, immediately pulling you into a hug.
“You look lovely, dear. Absolutely stunning.” You smile at the compliment. “It’s so good to finally meet you in person.”
“I feel the same. I’m still a little shaky.” You laughed and it seemed to ease the tension, given the way his parents laughed along with you. His father handed you a skinny glass of champagne which you eagerly accepted, sipping down the bubbly liquid. Jeonghan let go of your hand, now holding a glass of his own.
“I hope Jeonghan doesn’t give you too much trouble. We know he can be a bit of a handful at times.” The woman said, getting another laugh out of his father and you.
“Mom, please.”
“No, it’s okay. He’s really such a great guy. Our time together has been…” You sucked in a breath and glanced up at Jeonghan. He looked down at you, smirking. “…special.”
“Jeonghan? Oh, it really is him! Jeonghannie!”
You and Jeonghan both turned your heads to search for the source of the voice, both of your eyes landing on a girl with dark hair and plump lips waving at Jeonghan.
“Momo,” he smiled at her. “Good to see you. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Momo smiled back. “We would’ve been here earlier, but Sana couldn’t decide on what to wear and Mina wasn’t being any help.” She huffed at the memory and shook her head. “But we’re here now. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even see you.”
You smiled tightly, trying to remain polite. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. It was the exact opposite of fucking fine. Not only was this Momo girl interrupting your moment with Jeonghan and his parents, but she was also acting as if you were invisible. And worst of all, Jeonghan seemed less bored with her sudden appearance and was paying more attention to her than you.
You paused. Were you getting jealous?
“Hey, you don’t mind if Jeonghan takes some pictures with me and my friends, right?” She put a hand on your arm and squeezed lightly, snapping you out of your daze.
“No, it’s okay.” Momo smiled again, and you couldn’t help but notice just how pretty she was. With your approval, Momo linked her arm with Jeonghan’s, leading him to the opposite end of the room where two other girls stood waiting, their faces lighting up at the sight of the male model she had managed to drag along with her.
“Come on [Y/n] dear, he’ll be back. Oh, there are some people we’d like you to meet. Have you met Kang Seulgi? She’s a very talented designer.” Jeonghan’s mom rambled on, guiding you towards an expectant looking crowd of people.
Shockingly (well, it was shocking to you), your attention is the one thing that the majority of the other guests seem to be after. Many of them gather around you and Jeonghan’s parents, hanging off every word you say and looking at you like you’re one of the most precious things they’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. The topic of the evening is, of course, your relationship with Jeonghan.
"It's..." You search for him in the somewhat dark expanse of space, but you couldn't find him anywhere. He probably ran off somewhere with Joshua, no doubt.
Jeonghan had fucked you over. He’d brought you here just to abandon you. He made you feel special just so you’d make him look good in front of his parents. You felt like some kind of broken toy, so easily thrown to the side once he no longer wanted to play with you.
"I don't know. It's a lot of things. I'm happy though, you know? He's good to me." You smiled, the lie stinging your throat and burning your tongue. There was only so much more of all this attention you could take.
“You’re so lovely, [Y/n].”
“Isn’t she just a dear?”
“She’s the sweetest! Don’t you just love her?”
And there it was; your breaking point. One of your hands flew over your mouth, keeping the pathetic sob from escaping. Concern flashed across the faces of the guests, and you apologized as best as you could as you pushed your way through the mass of bodies and out to the hallway. None of them followed you, probably still confused as to why you had even run away in the first place, but it didn’t matter. None of this mattered.
Jeonghan’s friends loved you. The media loved you. His parents loved you. All these guests whose names you didn’t even know loved you. Everyone loved you but Jeonghan, so in the end none of it even mattered. He had no problem discarding you when you were no longer of use to him, like you were nothing, because he didn’t love you.
You finally cried. The regret, the guilt, it consumed you. You slid down to the floor, your face covered by your hands, crying on the floor like a child.
“[Y/n]?”
You could recognize Jeonghan’s voice in a heartbeat. He stared down at you, worry written all over his pretty face, but you gave him no response.
“Why are you crying?”
He knelt down beside you, trying to get you to at least look at him. You wiped away the last of your tears and sighed.
“I think we need to end this, Jeonghan.”
“What?” He seemed genuinely shocked that you said that. “[Y/n], we’re more popular than ever. That wasn’t the deal.”
You picked yourself up off of the floor, suddenly overcome with anger. "Is that seriously all you care about? How popular you are? What about me?”
His silence was painful.
“God, of course. I don’t even know why I bothered asking. You only care about yourself.”
“That’s not true. I care about you, [Y/n]. You know that.” Jeonghan frowned.
Under different circumstances you might’ve believed him, let him sway you with his sweet words and sad little expression.
“Do you? It feels like you only care about me when you want your dick sucked or when you want someone to clap for you.”
The look on his face changed in an instant. Jeonghan’s patience was wearing thin, you could tell, but there was a part of him that was holding back.
“If that’s how you really feel, why didn’t you say anything? Why even agree to do this in the first place?”
The words came flying out before you could stop them. “Because I love you, Jeonghan! I’ve always loved you!”
A heavy silence enveloped the hallway. It was tense—suffocatingly so. You could hardly make out how his face changed once more in the low lighting that enveloped you.
“[Y/n]—”
“I’m not done!” You’re not sure when you started crying again, but you arely registered the wet droplets streaming down your cheeks. “I don’t even know why I’ve tried so hard to get you to notice the fact that I love you when it’s obvious the only person you love is yourself. You’re nothing but a selfish asshole. I hate you.”
Your vision was blurred with your tears, but you could just barely make out the dejection painted on his face. It didn’t suit him. You hoped that he would say something, anything, but Jeonghan did nothing but stand there. You couldn’t do anything but laugh pitifully.
“I’m going home. Have fun at your party.”
“Wait, [Y/n], please don’t go. Let’s talk about this.” He held onto your hand when you tried to walk away. You tried to get him to let go, but he wasn’t ready to let go.
“What else is there to say, Jeonghan? We’re over, now leave me alone. Why don’t you go ask Momo to be your fake girlfriend, I’m sure she’d be more than happy to.”
You snatched your hand out of his grasp, fooling yourself with the last bit of hope you had that maybe he would chase after you. He made you a promise, after all.
It’s a shame he couldn’t keep it.
You didn’t go into work on Friday. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. After you got home last night, you buried yourself beneath the covers of your bed, too exhausted to do anything other than lie there in the darkness until you fell asleep. When morning came, you couldn’t even muster up the strength to move, so you called Sakura and said that you were sick and wouldn’t be able to come in for the next few days.
Jeonghan had left you an unbelievable amount of texts and calls, none of which you bothered to respond to. Chaewon and Joshua also texted you to ask about the party and if you’d heard anything from Jeonghan; apparently no one had heard from him since the party. As if you’d know.
On Sunday, you’d managed to tear yourself away from your bed—for longer than a trip to the kitchen or the bathroom—and out onto the couch. A rerun episode of Jihyo’s talk show was playing on the TV, the one that featured you and Jeonghan. You watched with a heavy heart as the two of you walked hand in hand, smiling, waving to the studio audience.
How could you ever fall in love with him? He was just another self serving rich boy who used you for his own personal gain. It didn’t matter that he was charming or funny or cute or—
Fuck, even when you were mad at him you found it impossible to ignore the beating of your own heart when you remembered just how nice it felt to be with him, even if it was all just for show.
Someone was knocking. You sighed, not wanting to get up, but the knocking only grew louder and more urgent.
“Okay, I’m coming! Damn…” You shouted, lifting yourself from the couch and over to the door, frowning at the person standing on the other side.
Jeonghan’s state of being didn’t seem to be any better than yours. His eyes had bags under them, his hair was in desperate need of a brush, and he was still in his pajamas. Even so, he smiled weakly at the sight of you. “I was worried you wouldn’t answer. I’m happy to see you’re doing okay.”
You scoffed. “I’m not.” You missed the way his smile dropped at that. “What do you want?”
“I want to apologize to you.”
Shaking your head, you started to shut the door, almost closing it on Jeonghan’s arm in the process.
“Wait, please! I really mean it, just give me a few minutes and then I’ll be gone, I swear.”
There was no way you were in your right mind, because you actually let him in. He smiled and followed you to the couch, sitting at a distance to keep you from getting uncomfortable.
“I thought about what you said at the party. The stuff you said about me wasn’t wrong. I was being selfish. I did only care about my image. You had every right to be upset with me.”
“I’m still upset with you.”
“And that’s perfectly fine, but just hear me out,” His voice was frantic. “Those two weeks I didn’t talk to you were the worst two weeks of my life. I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you. I really missed you, [Y/n]. And the more I thought about you, the more I realized that I was falling in love. I’m so in love with you, [Y/n].”
You weren’t buying it. “You could’ve texted me. Or called. Or something.”
Jeonghan turned to face you, eyes flickering over your face. “I wanted to, and I should’ve, but…”
“…But what?”
His cheeks were growing pinker by the second.
“But what, Jeonghan?”
“But I didn’t want you to leave me. I didn’t tell you how I felt because I thought it would overwhelm you. If you start to feel real feelings in a fake relationship, what are you supposed to do?” He sounded so…sad.
When the reality of his words finally sunk in, clarity followed. Jeonghan was in love with you. Jeonghan was scared that you would want things to be over. Jeonghan was worried about how you would react to him.
You breathed out a laugh.
“You’re such a dummy, Jeonghan. Why would I ever leave you?”
His sadness evaporated, now replaced with relief and joy and love. He pulled you into a hug and sighed happily when you returned it.
“I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. My heart literally fucking broke when you cried because of me and my shitty attitude.”
“Oh, but I love your shitty attitude. Just not when it’s making me cry.”
“Good. Pretty girls shouldn’t cry.” He whispered against your lips before kissing you. You felt giddy at the way his lips moved against yours, smiling into the kiss. He gently pushed you so you were lying on your back, breaking away to look down at you.
“My pretty girl…” He said again, voice sweeter than sugar, fingers trailing up your legs. They felt cold against your burning hot skin, and it made you shiver. “Gonna let me make you feel good like you deserve?”
“Yes, Hannie, please.”
Jeonghan groaned, pausing the movement of his fingers to bask in the sound of you begging for him. You had no idea what you did to him and it made his dick that much harder. “Good girl. I’ll take care of you.”
“Hurry up, your hands are cold,” You whined. His eyes flashed with mischief, pressing his fingers down into the flesh of your inner thigh, watching you shiver and moan.
“I don’t know, I think that you like it, am I right?”
“If you don’t hurry up and touch me, I’ll do it myself.” To prove your point, you slipped your shorts off and tossed them somewhere onto the floor. Jeonghan touched you before you could even think about sliding off your underwear, cupping your leaking cunt with his hand.
“The only one who gets to play with this pretty pussy is me, baby. Don’t ever forget it.” You moaned at how fast his demeanor seemed to change, nodding furiously as you tried to grind into his hand to relieve the ache he was making you feel.
Pouting and panting, you looked up at him. “Hannie, don’t be mean…”
He found it insane how he didn’t realize how whipped he was for you earlier. Like really, he was totally wrapped around your finger. This must’ve been how you felt for all those years.
“Whatever you want, baby,” He lifted your legs a little higher, situating himself so he was lying flat on his stomach, face only a few inches away from your cunt. He pushed your underwear to the side, gasping at the sight of how wet you were. “Shit, baby, you’re fucking dripping.”
“Just for you.”
He seemed pleased with that. “Better be.”
Jeonghan buried his face in between your legs, groaning when the taste of you hits his mouth. He’s making an even bigger mess of you, licking at you greedily and sloppily, drowning himself in the wetness between your thighs.
You’re moaning louder than you think you ever have in your life. Shaky fingers slide into his soft dark hair, gripping tightly. He doesn’t seem to mind though, already too caught up in you to register the little bit of pain. You grind into his face, staining the lower half of his face with your arousal.
“Hannie, fuck,” You manage to say despite your fucked out state. Jeonghan hums, and the sensation makes your thighs close around his head. If you could speak, you would apologize, but Jeonghan seems to grow impossibly more aroused by the act.
He slips two of his fingers inside of you, it’s easy given how wet you are and keep getting, while he occupies his tongue on your clit. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, any and all coherent thoughts having escaped you in that moment. The only thing you could focus on was Jeonghan, his lips, and his fingers.
You could feel yourself getting close, a familiar feeling blooming in your stomach. Jeonghan could feel it too with the way you were tightening around his fingers and arching your back to stay as close to him as you can. He circles your clit with his tongue before starting to suck on it, your legs shaking with the force of your orgasm.
“You taste so good,” Jeonghan says, licking his lips clean of every last drop of you. He presses one last long, lingering kiss to your pussy before gathering the strength to pull away and wipe his mouth clean.
“We could’ve kept going.” The look you gave him was so innocent and sweet, a contrast to the way your legs were still spread open with your juices staining your inner thighs. You almost convinced him. Almost.
“Don’t look at me like that,” He spoke slowly and softly, as if he was in no rush to give you more despite the painfully obvious tent in his pants.
“Well then hurry up and fuck me already.”
Jeonghan doesn’t want to keep you waiting, but he can’t help but tease you just a little bit more. He sheds his clothes with little urgency, and he smirks like the little cocky shit he is when he sees the way you’re looking at him, like you could just devour him here and now. It’s like you were seeing him naked for the first time all over again, astonished by the sight of him. He was just so pretty all over.
He slides the tip of his cock up and down your slit, teasing your entrance until you were squirming. “Hannie, please,” you whined, steadying your hands on his shoulders. Clearly he was just as desperate as you were, because he pushed into with a groan no more than a moment later.
“So tight, baby, shit. Are you trying to make me cum already?”
His strokes are slow and deep, and you can feel every single inch of him inside of you as he drags himself all the way out before slamming back inside. Whenever you clench around him, he falters and lets himself moan something unintelligible about how good you feel or how pretty you are.
“F-Faster, Hannie, I want—” Jeonghan cut you off with a sloppy kiss, swallowing each and every one of your noises.
He cooed at you and shook his head with fake disapproval. “When did you get so demanding?” Your words turned into whimpers when he increased both the pace and the force of his thrusts, rendering your ability to speak useless. “You know I’ve got you baby, I know what you need.”
“Stop talking like that.” Your nails dragged down his back, streaking his unblemished skin with thin red lines.
“What are you gonna do if I don’t? You gonna cum and make a mess of yourself all over my cock, huh baby?”
You whimpered again, leaving Jeonghan to assume that he was correct and giving him yet another ego boost. With one hand, he pushed your shirt up to reveal your braless chest, kissing and sucking at the supple skin of your tits.
There was no way you weren’t going to be getting a noise complaint. The sounds coming from Jeonghan’s hips snapping against yours paired with the steady stream of sounds coming from both you and Jeonghan were sure to have them making a fuss. Not that any of that mattered at the moment, well, not to either of you.
His hand snakes between your bodies, rubbing feverishly at your abused bundle of nerves, whispering so sweetly into your ear the words “cum for me” which is all you needed before doing just that. Jeonghan watches your face as you cum, and he thinks that you’ve never looked more beautiful than you do now, letting yourself fall apart underneath him like this.
“I love you so much,” He says in between his strained grunts of pleasure. “So fucking much, baby.” Even after you had already cum, Jeonghan’s hips never once stopped moving against yours.
“I love you too, Hannie, fuck.” The overstimulation was starting to hit you, and you whimpered because of it.
“I know, baby. I’m almost there.”
His tip is bruising your sweet spot with each of his thrusts, making you squeeze around him impossibly tighter, and the feeling makes him so dizzy, reminding him of the fact that he is truly and utterly yours. “Want me to cum inside you, pretty girl? Use your words and tell me.”
“Yes, yes, please, Hannie! Need your cum inside of me!” Your mouth and body are reacting on their own, saying and doing what they want as you feel yourself cum a second time. He doesn’t hold back anymore, the warm sensation of his cum being fucked deeper and deeper into you overtaking all of your senses, leaving you feeling fuzzy and lightheaded.
Jeonghan’s head rests on your chest, breathing in your scent and listening to the sound of your heart. He’s too lazy and too tired to pull out, but you don’t mind. “Can you be my girlfriend for real now?” Even as you work to catch your breath, he still manages to make you laugh.
“Hm, I don’t know, nobody was around to hear you say that, should we go find you an audience?” You tease, and Jeonghan whines loudly and shakes his head.
“In that case, yes. I’d love to be your girlfriend.”
the great war
❝Because the greatest war Seungcheol had ever waged was against your heart.❞
historical! au | enemies to lovers! au | smut, fluff | 41k words
s u m m a r y : there was only one thing you hated more than your restricted life, and that was choi seungcheol—the greatest venetian general who has ever lived. when a marriage is arranged between the two of you, you were sure it would end in bloodshed. however, as you and seungcheol are forced to attend balls and share a few hard truths, you realise you have more in common with the mysterious general than you thought.
c o n t e n t : military commander! seungcheol, noblewoman! artist! mc, artist! minghao, artist! soonyoung who are both annoying (affectionate), cheol and mc absolutely hate each other because i need to see proper e2l, cheol has a scar on his lip (yes this needs a separate warning), this is set in renaissance venice so there will be many artist references, the doge = basically ruler of venice, themes of sexism, constant arguing between mc and cheol, there is fluff, also angst mature warnings -> tons of sexual tension, making out fuelled by hatred, cheol calls you carrissima (which personally i find very hot) fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (only because medieval contraception is horrendous), petnames cheol says some vile things during the deed, slight corruption kink
p l a y l i s t : dangerous woman by ariana grande || war of the hearts by sade || love is stronger than pride by sade || i don’t understand but i luv u by seventeen
t a g l i s t : at the bottom of the fic!
a u t h o r ’ s n o t e : hi hello thank you everyone for waiting for this monster fic!! thank you alice and addy for being the reason i finished this fic, thank you chia for creating a beautiful picture of general! cheol, and greatest thanks to choi seungcheol the man you are </3 i hope you all enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it <33
WHEN THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC DEFEATED THE OTTOMANS ONCE AND FOR ALL, EVERY CITIZEN—BE IT PEASANT OR THE RICHEST ARISTOCRAT—KNEW WHO WAS BEHIND THAT VICTORY.
His name sparked life into the deathly, cramped streets. Whispers and cheers carried along the murky lakes, the rushed streams underneath the city, lapping up to the cobblestoned shore—entering the ears of marketeers, patricians, nuns, prostitutes, everyone. Wherever one went, the commander’s name rang like the dozen church bells, scattered throughout the lake-locked lands.
The buzz in the air was more frantic this afternoon, though, because the victors’ party was finally returning to the state.
Finally returning home.
You, despite your family’s excitement, despite your connections to the man behind the success of it all, could not have cared less.
Keep reading
愛 : TYPES OF BOYFRIENDS WITH ENHYPEN !
enhypen ot7 x fem!reader warnings -
( heeseung ) as your loser bf
— don’t be fooled by his stunning visuals, lee heeseung is a loser. he is most probably the type of boyfriend who’ll buy those silly socks with his favourite ramyeon brand patterned on it, asking you to match with him. you can’t say no to him, but blaring red shin ramyeon socks are definitely not the best thing to wear out to meet your friends. you end up persuading him by saying that you’ll match with him when you’re alone and he agrees ( thank god )
the rest under the cut !
( jongseong ) as your embarrassing bf
— when i mean embarrassing, i mean endearingly embarrassing. the kind of boyfriend who will shout across a carpark that he loves you, along with the furious waves of his hands and if that doesn’t make your cheeks red enough, he’s asking ( shouting ) you why you’re not saying it back. he gives immense princess treatment and will bring a camera everywhere, asking you to take a picture every ten minutes. collects them and makes a collage for each date for keeps.
( jaeyun ) as your clueless bf
— sim jaeyun is so goddamn oblivious about anything going around around him it’s so adorable. and it makes him treasure every single surprise ten times more because of this trait. you could literally buy him a lego set and leave it out in the open and he probably won’t question a single thing. when you tell him gossip about a person you dislike, he’ll be like “yeah i hate her too, who is she again?” will get you mixed up with your own story
( sunghoon ) as your competitive bf
— coming from a sports background, how can sunghoon not make everything a competition ( it’s literally entwined in his bones ). imagine going to a restaurant to eat, he will bring it up if his food arrives before yours. even when you bid goodbye to him and tell him that you love him, he’ll definitely say something like “no, i love you more, i win,” when it was never a competition to even begin with. ( but he wins things for you during fair dates so you can’t complain )
( sunoo ) as your simp bf
— sunoo will brag about you anywhere he goes, if you are the topic of the conversation or even if you’re not, he’ll find a way to bring you up. he will stop anything to attend to your needs, and will do anything for you. you’re tired and need help drying your hair, he’ll do it, even if he complains about it “why can’t you do it yourself” he still ends up doing it for you ( god bless me i need sunoo in my life )
( jungwon ) as your possessive bf
— i haven’t really seen much about jungwon being a clingy boyfriend, but i am 1000% sure he is clingy and possessive. has an arm around you at all times, and will constantly compliment you on absolutely anything. most definitely will say “wear what you want, i can fight” and he will fight for you no matter what. is the type of boyfriend to tease you a lot, but can’t take it if someone else teases you.
( riki ) as your playful bf
— you and riki have the goofiest dates that are out of the world, forget watching a movie or going to the fair ( pft boring ) you’re probably having a water fight in your backyard at 2 in the morning, trying to make the weirdest yet tastiest food combinations, filming the weirdest tiktok challenges or seeing who can make the funniest capcut edits. will definitely throw you the worst pickup lines at random moments “hey girl, are you fever? because you make me weak”
© SJYUNS
"This story is a tragedy because it didn't have to end this way."
vs
"This story is a tragedy because it was always going to end this way."
Choi Seungcheol is the perfect man, In this essay I will…
die in your arms
pairing: prince!jaehyun x (f) reader
genre/warnings: smut, angst, horror, arranged marriage, unprotected sex, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of vomiting and suicide, major character death
word count: 22.4k
summary: Every single night before bed, you play your royal husband, Jaehyun, a song on his grandfather’s piano as a distraction from the ominous sounds you hear. To the public, you’re all smiles, but discreetly, you’re a slave to your suspicions. Though it seems the more you pry, the more secrets you start to unravel.
author’s note: so, remember when i said i wasn’t writing a halloween fic? yeah, i lied. happy spooky season!
Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, you chanted to yourself, running because your life depended on it.
Your feet hurt and you had lost track of how long you had been running for, but you pushed yourself forward even as your energy from the adrenaline started to dwindle.
Never had you needed to fight for your life before. Fight for anything. Your legs burned from ache, begging for a break while your bare feet slapped against wet dirt. Your face was damp with tears and rainwater. But you never stopped. Not even for a second.
Not as long as he was behind you. Even after hours of running, you knew he wouldn’t stop until he had at last caught you. He could run across acres of land and never break a sweat.
Lightning struck and you screamed, only to realize it was the shrouds of darkness looming over you. You were on edge.
“My love,” Jaehyun sang, calling out to you from a distance.
His voice made you shudder, but you bunched your dress into your fists, the white gown difficult to run in. You didn’t look back, though you knew that he wasn’t far.
Pushing Jaehyun’s voice to the back of your head, you tried to find an escape route. The garden had to stretch across at least a thousand acres. There was no end in sight. You were inclined to believe you were running in circles across perfectly manicured grass and stone trails.
Jaehyun had the upper hand. It was his palace, for heaven’s sake. He had grown up wandering around these paths and exploring halls that were carbon copies of each other. You had barely made it out of the palace, clearing corridor after corridor, though unsure if you were making any distance because of how they paralleled.
You found another stone footpath, feeling the ground harden beneath your feet where moonlight shone through the tiniest of puddles. For whatever reason, seeing your scared face in your reflection gave you chills. Your face that was once perfectly made was ruined with streaks of mascara, black.
What should have been the happiest day of your life had quickly turned upside-down.
When you glanced aside, what you saw nearly got another hair-raising scream out of you, but you bit your lip hard enough to make yourself bleed.
Horror was beginning not to explain your feelings as you fought for survival, wide eyes drifting around the pond in a perfect rectangle. There were tombstones surrounding the pond, watered by rain. You could see names etched on them; your parents, Jaehyun’s parents, and some of his servants. Dead fish floated in the water.
“No,” you cried out, kneeling aside your parents’ gravestones. You didn’t care that your dress dirtied. You lost all purpose for it the second you saw him for the monster he had been all along.
From the beginning this had only been a perfectly crafted game where you never had a chance. You were baited like an animal and Jaehyun was somewhere watching you like a hawk in the sky, because little did you know, you would never make it out.
He had made sure of that.
“This is your home now,” Jaehyun exclaimed, but it was all white noise to you. You didn’t even know where he was or how far he stood from you. Your mind was racing but empty all the while.
You knew there had to be a shed somewhere. If you were quick, maybe you could hit him over the head with a trowel or a really heavy pot. If you wanted to make it out alive, you had to escape on your own. You knew there was nobody else alive out here aside from you and Jaehyun.
Not to mention thinking about what Jaehyun would do to you if he caught you made your blood run cold, because you simply didn’t know. He was an enigma to you now. You went from living every little girl’s dreams of becoming a princess to living a never-ending nightmare.
“Darling. There you are,” Jaehyun said, as if he hadn’t already had you trapped.
You screamed, screamed a silent cry, unable to hear his wet footsteps over the sound of your mind racing a thousand thoughts per hour. It was over. You lost. He had caught you.
Jaehyun swept you into his arms and crooned, “Shh, it’s alright. Everything is okay, darling.”
Every exhale was a battle. You heaved, chest undulating, and tried to regain some semblance of composure. Your eyes studied the room and you realized you were no longer in Jaehyun’s boundless garden, but in his chamber. There was no rain pouring on you. Only sweat beading at your skin, cooling at your neck.
“It was just a nightmare,” Jaehyun whispered, voice sweet and tender as it had always been.
You still shuddered, but you were relieved that it was only a dream. You leaned into Jaehyun’s touch, breathing in the crisp air.
You flitted your gaze to the balcony attached to the giant chamber, blocked off by a glass door. The royal blue curtains were drawn, giving you a perfect view of the garden it overlooked. Rain fell brutally and little droplets gathered at the screen.
Nights like this were a recurring series of events ever since you started sharing a bed with Jaehyun. You would wake in the middle of the night, damp with sweat, screaming your lungs off. Jaehyun would hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ears, trying to calm you down.
If you were being honest, it wasn’t Jaehyun that was giving you nightmares, in spite of the fact that the one key element they all shared was that he would be hunting you down in all of them. It was the dangerous lack of sleep you were getting. Interestingly, the monarchy had owls that kept you up at night, and when you finally fell asleep, bad dreams loomed over you.
For whatever reason, sleep deprivation made you prone to them. You tried to remind yourself Jaehyun was a great guy and your stupid brain playing tricks on you was not a reflection of his character, but the fact that you consistently had more or less the same dream solely about him made you antsy.
Grow up. Dreams don’t mean anything. You sound like a little girl afraid of the monsters under her bed, you hissed to yourself, chastising. The fact that it was so silly was enough to make you promptly dismiss your worries.
For the three months you had been engaged, Jaehyun took the extra time to get to know you. It was strange, because he didn’t need to. Your marriage was a business proposal rather than the kneeling before your lover kind, and both of your parents had influence throughout the country. You had never spoken until then.
In spite of that detail, Jaehyun treated you as if he could see himself truly loving you one day. Maybe because he wanted things to be as non-awkward as possible, given that you would be sharing the same bed at night.
By day, Jaehyun would flaunt you in front of the media and hold you flush against him at royal events as he did throughout your betrothal. The wedding had to have been the most remarkable occasion of them all. It lasted throughout the entire day, hundreds of thousands of people present to celebrate your nuptials.
When you married, you moved into the palace, which was precisely when the nightmares started. Because of those goddamn owls.
Some nights later, you shot up again, having yet another nightmare. Noticing the bedside lamp was switched on, you glanced to your side, observing Jaehyun with a book in hand and spectacles sitting squarely on the bridge of his nose. “Another bad dream?”
You nodded, biting your lip. You felt bad and slightly embarrassed. Never had you and Jaehyun shared a bed until your honeymoon, so his first impression of your sleeping habits were you being prone to crying out in the middle of the night.
Jaehyun, setting his book to the side after marking his place, opened his arms for you. You crawled into them without hesitation. Over time, they had started to feel like home. It took the edge off your homesickness.
This is your home now. You shivered. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a very bad fucking dream, you comforted yourself.
Jaehyun whispered tenderly, “Tell me what you saw.”
You swallowed and damped your throat. Though you had told him about the owls, you kept to yourself the bit about him chasing you like a serial killer. “It’s a little dark,” you told him in fair warning.
Jaehyun didn’t seem to give a damn. “It’s only a dream. It can’t scare me. Unless a monster is going to hop out of your cute brain and yell, ‘Boo!’”
You giggled. Leave it to Jaehyun to make you laugh when you needed it most. He had come to learn your needs over those three months of bonding.
Jaehyun threw you an expectant look. “Well?”
You hesitated, but ultimately gave in. Jaehyun was your husband now, for fuck’s sake. What couldn’t you tell him? “Well, every night I have the same nightmare about… you. You’re always chasing me throughout the castle. Every time, I get close to escaping, but you catch me in the end. And then I wake up.”
“It’s not very realistic.”
You pulled back, giving him a look. “Hm?”
“I would never chase you,” Jaehyun said. “I will always have you right where I want you.”
Your eyes flickered. It was an unsettling comment, but you tried to let it go. Jaehyun doesn’t have an evil bone in his body, you reminded yourself. He’s harmless.
Jaehyun clambered out of bed, sitting his spectacles on top of his book, and stood on two feet. When you merely watched him with interest, he beckoned you to mirror him. “Come on. I have something to show you.”
Hesitantly you obeyed him, crawling from bed and sliding on your slippers. Following him into the halls, you walked hand in hand with Jaehyun the entire time who had laced his fingers through yours comfortably. The gesture made you smile, no matter how little.
Like in your dreams, the corridors were of length and resembled each other almost precisely. High stone walls stood tall, statues at its sides, and chandeliers glared at you from above your heads. Given it was after nightfall, the halls were dimly lit.
One of the statues you swore you saw move and give you a mean glower. You asked curiously, “Did you ever break anything when you were a child?”
“Not that I remember. No.”
“Huh,” you retorted. “You must have been a wonderful child.”
“I stayed in my room and looked out the window,” Jaehyun muttered under his breath.
Your eyes flickered.
Jaehyun brought you to a room at the very end of the passage but before he drew the doors open, he told you softly, “Close your eyes.”
You rolled your eyes, but did as told, giggling. Jaehyun got a hold of both of your hands and placed them over your face for safe measure. Then, he drew the doors open, pushing you inside.
Jaehyun guided you mysteriously throughout the room and you let him without question. You knew he had switched the lights on, the corners of your vision getting brighter in spite of the dark void, and he stopped you momentarily.
“Now, open.”
You slowly opened your eyes, squinting while you adjusted to the bright lights. Then they focused in front of you, and what you saw made you giddy with excitement.
“Whoa,” you gasped, running a hand over the grand piano. It was royal blue, monarchical patterns thoughtfully designed over the lid.
Jaehyun was sporting the biggest smile you had ever seen. “Do you like it?”
You bobbed your head. During your engagement, you remembered telling Jaehyun, en passant, that you had been enamored with playing pianos since you were little. “You remembered,” you said quietly, touched.
Jaehyun’s dimples showed and it was the cutest thing ever. He spoke softly, “This was my grandfather’s piano. He hated bad weather and played it when it stormed. I know that it’s not the same, but I thought that maybe if you played the piano before bed, it would help with your nightmares.”
“That’s really thoughtful of you, Jaehyun,” you replied, heat spreading through your chest like wildfire. “Do you want me to play you a song?”
“Yes,” Jaehyun said and pulled out a chair.
You sat on the piano bench, getting comfortable and warming up your fingers lest they cramped in the middle of your impromptu performance. For a multigenerational piano, it was still in perfect condition.
“My mother taught me this,” you told him in preparation.
You proceeded to play him a mind-blowing masterpiece, your eyes and hands trained to the keyboard. Jaehyun was dumbfounded that any human being could be so graceful while playing an instrument and kept himself fixed to your supple fingers. He was enamored, knowing then and there that he wanted to hear you play your sweet song forever.
Eyes closed, everything disappeared behind the sound of the keys, and you carried yourself to a world where there was nothing but you and your piano. Where no harm could reach you.
Me and my song. That's how you got through everything. As long as you had a piano, everything would be okay.
When you were done, you glanced up at Jaehyun, studying him for a reaction.
Jaehyun was all smiles. He was endlessly proud of you, clasping his hands together in applause when the performance ended. His heart was asking for an encore, and he knew you most likely wanted one yourself. He could see that you were truly at peace when you played, in a world of your own, at your happiest.
“You’re the most talented player I've ever heard,” Jaehyun whispered sweetly.
Heat filled your cheeks and you hid it with a roll of your eyes. “You’re only saying that because I’m your wife.”
Jaehyun took your hands in his palms again, kissing the back of your palm tenderly. “You are my talented wife, who I love very much.”
Your heart stopped. His wife. Who he loved. He loved you? You expected to be merely something he had to put up with, but Jaehyun had come to genuinely love you. To say nothing of yourself. This boy had swept you off of your feet in no time at all.
“I love you too,” you whispered back, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. Now that he had done such a thoughtful gesture, you loved him even more.
Jaehyun saw the stars in your eyes and squeezed your hand. “Are you ready to go back to bed?”
“Yes,” you chirped with glee.
Jaehyun hoisted you into his arms bridal style and you squealed in surprise, wreathing your arms around his neck while he carried you back to the bedchamber.
You slept soundly after that. No screaming. No nightmares.
As it turned out, his grandfather’s piano was the perfect countermeasure for your night terrors. You were dumbfounded that you actually managed to sleep through the whole night, well rested for the formal dinners and publicity appearances that came with being royalty.
For each of them, you clung flush to Jaehyun’s side, radiant. You didn’t speak unless spoken to. It was no question why you of all the women from a handpicked list were selected to become his wife. You had been cautiously groomed for the role, the pretty and obedient little thing meant to stand by the prince's side and carry his children. Especially his son.
Maybe it seemed demeaning, though you had no intention of making waves in the monarchy. You kept in step, rather than marched to the beat of your own drum. You were more than content to silently bathe in their luxuries and confide in your husband.
But it did get lonely.
One lazy afternoon, just after lunch, the king approached you and Jaehyun as the two of you were shooting the breeze in The Great Chamber. You noticed his father first and greeted him respectfully, “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”
Jaehyun opted for a polite bow.
The king motioned his head. “Good afternoon. I am only here to announce your mother-in-law and I’s departure. We will be traveling abroad on business for a couple of weeks. Your mother-in-law is already with an escort waiting outside the exit hall.”
That baffled Jaehyun. “Why the abrupt exit?”
“We have some affairs to attend to that couldn’t wait and we owe the prime minister a favor. We will return as briefly as possible.”
Jaehyun nodded. “Travel safely.”
“Of course. And son, the country is yours in our absence,” said the king. Then, he locked eyes with you. “Yours as well.”
You were stunned for a couple of seconds, but masked it well and replied demurely, “Yes, sir.”
The king bid each of you farewell individually then scurried to the exit hall with his wife to be chauffeured to their private charter.
Jaehyun met your eyes with a mischievous smile and said when his parents were out of earshot, “Appears it’s just the two of us.”
“Mm-hm,” you hummed, amused by the amount of sheer mischief in his stare. “Just me, you, and the hundred other people that live in this palace.”
Jaehyun chuckled, lifted your wrist, and pressed a sweet kiss to the back of your hand. “What if I sent everybody home? You heard my father. I’m in charge.”
“I also very clearly heard him mention that I’m in charge too. And I don’t think that’s a very good idea. Who’s going to make the spoiled prince’s every meal three times a day, everyday?”
“Fair point,” Jaehyun mumbled. “Do you really think that I’m spoiled?”
You replied without skipping a beat, “Rotten.”
“What a shame,” Jaehyun said. “Would it also be a shame if you came upstairs to spoil me some more?”
“Only if you didn’t spoil me back,” you replied tamely, but Jaehyun could see the unbridled lust in your eyes. It never lied to him.
You two scurried through the halls like a pair of hormonal teenagers, staggering towards the elevator with dwindling patience and giggling the entire ride upstairs.
When you came to bed that night after spending an undocumented amount of time playing Jaehyun the piano in what was once his grandfather’s bedchamber, he threw his big arms around your waist and drifted off to the view of your backside.
But when you abruptly woke, he was nowhere to be found.
You sat up in a panic. He’s just using the bathroom. Yeah, that sounds about right, you consoled yourself. The clock stared back at you on the wall, and noting the time, you decided you would wait for him to return.
Jaehyun never returned to his bedroom. You watched hours tick away at their own pace, but there was no sign of him. And in lieu of your husband’s soft snores, you only heard those familiar owls, feet dragging down the hall, and impatient ticking.
Which was completely unnerving.
You didn’t get any sleep that night. Not until Jaehyun at last came back and worriedly asked why you looked as if you had just finished a twelve-hour shift in the dungeon.
Choosing to ignore him, you snarled, “Where were you?”
Jaehyun’s eyes flickered. “Well, I was in the study. I had some late night affairs to attend to.”
“The king and queen are absent. Our royal activities have been suspended. There is nothing you could possibly need to take care of at four in the morning,” you pressed, arms folded.
“Most of our royal activities have been temporarily suspended,” Jaehyun corrected with a swiftness. “Why do you think my father left us in control? The country never sleeps.”
You sulked, especially grumpy from the lack of sleep.
Jaehyun watched you with surprise. Your grouchy, irritable attitude graveled him, because he couldn’t comprehend what he had done that was so wrong. “What’s gotten into you?”
You exhaled loudly. Maybe you were overreacting a little. Jaehyun did make a valid point, after all. Somebody still needed to nurse the country in the king and queen’s absence. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being unreasonable,” you replied, unable to justify your cynicism.
Not to mention you couldn’t think of a single other thing that Jaehyun could have been doing so early in the morning. It was a completely plausible excuse, whether you believed it or not. And it wasn’t as if Jaehyun had ever given you a reason to doubt him.
But the feet dragging through the halls was the second most eerie sound you had ever heard, just after those evil owls that reminded you too much of gargoyles. You chalked it up to some staff members keeping guard on a late shift and gave it up.
Jaehyun pried your stubborn hand away from your crossed arms and you let him. His touch was exactly what you needed to soothe your unease. “You look tired,” he commented. “Have you been sleeping?”
“No, I was waiting for you to come back,” you grumbled gruffly and stifled a yawn out of habit. It was unladylike, they said.
Jaehyun chuckled in amusement, but scolded, “You shouldn’t wait up for me. I’m a busy man and a princess needs her beauty sleep.”
“Maybe I feel safe when you’re next to me,” you mumbled under your breath, eyes fixed to his thumb rubbing circles at your wrist.
“I’m never far from you, baby,” Jaehyun reassured you gently. “I’m always two steps behind you.”
“Behind me or ahead of me?”
“I’m omnipresent,” Jaehyun whispered and kissed your cheek sweetly. “You can play the piano. I can sing. Would you like for me to sing you a song?”
“Yes,” you replied without stopping to mull it over.
Jaehyun told you to lie back down and you obeyed without a second thought, slipping under the blankets. You felt even warmer when he snaked his arms back around you and started to croon softly in your ears, voice tickling your neck and ultimately lulling you back to slumber.
Whether or not he got back up after that was entirely unbeknownst to you.
You slept so peacefully in Jaehyun’s embrace that you didn’t even rouse until afternoon, well after Jaehyun had slipped from bed and told you good morning, whispering something in your ear about how he had duties to attend to.
You, on the other hand, were cleared of any scheduling. Which gave you ample time to explore the gardens.
Now sporting a pretty knee-length dress, you had some tea and toast as a makeshift breakfast and scuttled outside in quick, short strides. The grandiose garden was easily your favorite spot in the whole palace. You could get lost in its labyrinth of superbly pruned shrubs and terraces decked in flower petals.
For lack of a better word, it was a humbling experience. It made you feel small to be isolated in such a huge garden. You may have been a princess, next in succession to the queen’s throne, but you were also just some girl in a world larger than you would ever know.
You could prance around and gawk at pretty flowers day in and day out. It didn’t take much to keep you happy. But you rather liked company.
When you noticed one of the gardeners you recognized tending to some blossoms, you chirped, “Hi, Giselle.”
Giselle greeted you very respectfully, curtsying at your presence. “Greetings, Your Royal Highness.”
“Oh, please,” you said, almost rolling your eyes. “You can call me by my name.”
“The king and queen wouldn’t approve of the informalities, ma’am.”
You didn’t really give a damn and waved her off, replying nonchalantly, “While that is true, the king and queen are not here, and it’s only the two of us in this garden. When we are alone, you may call me by my name and I will call you by yours.”
“If you insist,” Giselle replied, followed by your name.
You smiled triumphantly.
From your previous encounters and run-ins, you had already gathered that Giselle unfortunately wasn’t very much of a talker, though you couldn’t fault her. She did what she was told and minded the business that paid her. Literally. It would do her no good to kindle conflict in the monarchy.
“These flowers are pretty,” you remarked absentmindedly.
Giselle hummed. “They’re azaleas.”
“Elegance, temperance, and death,” you said knowledgeably, staring from the terrace.
Which surprised Giselle. “Are you into flower symbolism?”
You shrugged. “I know a thing or two.”
“Hm.”
You pointed to some other flowers. They were very recognizable to you at this point. “Those are white roses. Purity, innocence, loyalty, and fresh beginnings. It’s no secret why they were scattered all over my wedding.”
“Secrecy and silence,” Giselle added offhandedly.
For a couple of seconds, that, metaphorically speaking, threw you off balance. “That too,” you said quietly.
Giselle said nothing.
You considered making peace with the silence, but with your thoughts at daggers drawn with one another, you quickly accepted that wouldn’t be possible. Secrecy and silence. There was no doubt it suited the monarchs aptly. Sometimes you even wondered what you knew about Jaehyun, because he was ghastly private.
Maybe you weren’t the closest of married couples, but you knew enough. Jaehyun liked music and singing. He was introverted and quite shy, which was laughable when considering that he was soon to become king. He was calm and sensitive. Sensual, but reticent.
Jaehyun already made clear he loved you. Maybe with time, he would show you his heart.
Then, you had another thought. Secret, but not so much silent. “Hey, Giselle,” you called out. “Do you ever hear strange noises in the palace?”
“I don’t know what you mean. Everything is normal in the royal palace.”
You frowned. It hit you that you never asked Jaehyun if they bothered him. It was possible that growing up in the castle had numbed him. “I hear owls at night.”
“That is because there are owls and they are nocturnal. We haven’t tried to get rid of them because they are helpful with the garden,” was all Giselle said.
“Well, sure,” you mumbled, because it was an entirely logical explanation. “But what about the noises I hear in the hallway?”
“Some employees take late shifts to keep guard of the palace. They are merely monitoring the halls.”
That was what you told yourself, because it was completely reasonable. But something about this place gave you a bad gut feeling and left a bitter taste in your mouth. You couldn’t explain it, because it was just a hunch.
“In all due respect, what you hear is elementary. Word of advice? Believe what I tell you now or get two hours of sleep at night later.”
You recoiled in surprise. “Excuse me?”
Giselle turned around, glanced around for any watchful eyes, and made eye contact with you. She stepped onto the terrace and whispered, “I hear scratches in the walls and cries in the floorboards. You can rationalize footsteps in the hallway, but whimpers in the chamber? Not so easy. Convince yourself that it’s nothing while you still can.”
“If I have to convince myself that it’s nothing then that means there’s something,” you shot back, looking her plain in the eye. Which also meant there was something she wasn’t telling you. “What are you hiding?”
Giselle wavered, hesitant. She wore it on her face. Her body language was screaming at you and you desperately wanted to know what it was saying. “You’re royalty,” she finally said after a moment. “You have lived lavishly your whole life without ever needing to worry about a thing. Maybe I envy what you have, but I’m not telling you this from a black heart when I say my woes are not yours.”
You didn’t bristle, but softened. She was opening up to you, and you knew there was more to this tangent of hers.
“I come from a poor background and work here to provide for my household,” she said tamely, harboring no resentment whatsoever. She wasn’t the least bit vindictive. “Because of that, I can’t afford to poke my nose where it doesn’t belong. Even if it keeps me up at night.”
“The noises,” you said. “They keep you up at night?”
“Because of that piano,” Giselle grumbled under her breath.
“What?”
Giselle pivoted and walked back to the plants, dismissing your concern. “I’ve already said too much. Please, mention this to nobody. But if you must, leave my name out.”
You nodded. “Off the record.”
Giselle smiled thinly.
Backpedaling, you pointed to another shrubbery of flowers. “What are those?”
“Hydrangeas. They might seem high maintenance, but they are fairly easy to take care of. The queen loves them, so I give them some extra attention,” Giselle told you while hoisting a watering pot.
You hummed. “Blue flowers.”
“Desire, love, and infinity,” Giselle sighed poignantly.
For half an hour, you volunteered to help Giselle with her gardening duties before she shooed you away, claiming you had done enough of her responsibilities. You wandered in the garden still, lingering, just outside of Jaehyun’s bedchamber window.
When you glanced up, you saw him watching you fondly through the balcony screen, and waved him down with a beaming smile.
Jaehyun was downstairs in a flash, sporting chinos and a casual blazer. He looked very handsome, which was nothing new for him. Plus with his pretty brown eyes and adorable dimples that were both impossible to not get lost in, you had to will yourself not to swoon.
“Hi,” you greeted.
“Hi,” Jaehyun replied, mirroring you. Except he leaned in to snake his arms just below your ribs and kissed the corner of your mouth.
You smiled at his affections, though they had disarmed you a long time ago. His ability to unsettle you when he was gone but soothe you when he touched you was to be studied. “How has your day been so far?”
Jaehyun groaned. “Next subject.”
That got a chuckle out of you. Being the ruler of a country was no easy feat, but if there was anybody fitted for the role, it was Jaehyun. “Hopefully your parents haven’t left you with too much trouble.”
Jaehyun shrugged his shoulders. “I want to relax. You look like you’re having fun.”
“Something like that.”
You decided against confiding in him about the reality of your day thus far. Not because you didn’t trust him, but because you weren’t sure of anything yourself. Giselle had mentioned something about the piano he had gifted you. Jaehyun might have been your best bet at knowing what she meant, but you needed to do a little more investigating before you got him involved.
Now that you had another person’s opinion, you could say with total confidence that you weren’t crazy. There was something spooky going on in the monarchy and you wanted to know what.
For now, you would shove the thought to a corner in the back of your mind. Days at the palace were full of whimsical fun. The nights were terrifying.
Speaking of whimsical fun, Jaehyun spoke up and asked, “Do you want to ride the ferry with me?”
That caught your attention. “Ferry?”
“Yeah. There’s a huge lake down this path and we have a mini ferry that travels from one end to the other. You interested?”
“Sign me up,” you exclaimed enthusiastically.
Getting a hold of your hand, Jaehyun walked you through the courtyard to the wooden dock at the top of the lake. Unsurprisingly, it had a decorated roofed patio with a lounging nook to wait for the vessel to return.
Fortunately for you, it was already waiting at the dock, unoccupied save for the captain Jaehyun had called up during your relaxed walk to the boating site.
Jaehyun helped you aboard, having done this more times than he cared to admit. When you were safely secured on the tiny ferry, you thanked him for being a gentleman and watched him climb aboard himself.
The captain exited the wheelhouse. “Once to and from, Your Royal Highness?”
“Make it twice. We have time to waste,” said Jaehyun, looking at you with all the affections a man could possess.
Shortly afterwards, you started moving. You stood beside Jaehyun and gripped the railing, watching the water splash beneath the boat. This place was beautiful, no doubt. Your choice to get married in the garden was unregretted.
Eerily beautiful, you thought. Though you loved the garden, there were a couple of places you avoided. Mainly the ones that made appearances in your nightmares, like the shed.
The silence was comfortable, both you and Jaehyun soaking in the view, but you broke it to say, “You’re an only child.”
“I guess you could say that.”
You gave him a look. “What do you mean?”
Jaehyun shook his head, dismissive. “Nothing. Keep talking.”
You were curious, wanting to know all there was on this boy, but let it go for his sake. “Doesn’t it get lonely - alone in this big palace? Your parents are busy nurturing the country like it’s their own child.”
Jaehyun didn’t show a single fucking emotion on his face, though that was far from shocking by now. When it was time to get personal, he became the iciest man you knew. His cold indifference somehow burned you.
You grimaced when you saw his face. “Sorry if I crossed a line.”
“No, it’s okay,” Jaehyun replied, giving you a reassuring kiss to the cheek. “I was lonely before I met you. No siblings. Few people I could trust. When I was young, I learned rather quickly that life is a game of survival. You can never be too sure who’s friend or foe.”
You listened attentively, nestling closer to his chest.
“I was taught to be my own guard, in a way. And there’s nobody to blame but myself for chasing away everybody who tries to get close. But then you came,” Jaehyun said, smiling at you adoringly. “And there was an instant connection. I think I saw pieces of myself inside of you.”
“You did?”
Jaehyun bobbed his head. “Yeah. Some people see this meek, demure princess, but I see the woman that almost cooked my ass when I wasn’t tucked into bed with her,” he joked, getting a laugh out of you.
You giggled.
Jaehyun was smiling like an idiot. It was cute and wholesome. “On a serious note, I see somebody strong and assertive. Somebody who’s not afraid to fight for what they want, even if it means going through hell and back. Somebody unbroken and undeterred.”
“Mm-hm. And you liked that,” you hummed, giving him a hooded stare.
“You have no idea,” Jaehyun purred before leaning in to smash his lips against yours.
You giggled into his mouth. Your heart skipped a beat or two when Jaehyun kissed you, tempted to leap into the palm of his hands where she belonged. The Jaehyun you had come to know was a romantic and there was nothing more romantic than making out with your lover on a beautiful ferry ride.
Except for making love with your lover below a beautiful ferry ride.
“Below deck,” Jaehyun murmured in your ear, delicately slipping his hands from your waist to lace his fingers through yours. You didn’t hesitate to follow him through the little hall, coming out in a bedroom at its very end.
You hardly even got to stand long enough to take note of your surroundings before Jaehyun hoisted you up and threw you against the silk sheets. You cried out in shock. Jaehyun had taken you more times than you bothered to count, but you were in awe at how rough the prince got when it came to sex.
When Jaehyun crept over you, staring at you with a blend of awe and unbridled lust in those pretty brown eyes of his, you combed your fingers through his dark hair and drew his mouth to yours again.
You could hear your heart thudding in your ears as you kissed him slowly. Your lips only knew each other and you could taste the ecstasy on the tip of your tongue. To say nothing of the touches. While you were fisting his hair, Jaehyun stripped you naked, tossing your dress and groping your perfect breasts.
Jaehyun was warm to the touch, but his fingers never failed to make you shiver. “I love the way your lips feel,” you confessed when he separated from your mouth.
Only to kiss his way down your stomach, lips gentle and tender. Jaehyun cocked you a glance and grinned. “And what about my dick?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions. I love your dick, duh, but that’s a different conversation deserving of its own speech. Particularly a long-winded one with a very heartfelt peroration at the climax.”
Jaehyun’s head bobbed as he snickered at the thought, before teasing, “Well, we have the Great Chamber for that when you’re ready. Feel free.”
Your laughter rang out in the little bedroom. Then, Jaehyun switched on a dime, dragging your legs towards the edge of the bed before spreading them apart like jelly and burying his face between your thighs.
Every time Jaehyun took you to bed, you remembered the first night of your honeymoon. When he took you to a cabin in the woods in April’s spring, flipped you over, and made you cry for all the forest to hear. By day, you watched nature and waltzed to his many vinyls, and by night, you made love for hours.
And to think that was only a month ago. You felt as if you’d loved Jaehyun for years.
Jaehyun ate you out until you came undone at the mercy of his brutal tongue, clamping his palms at your thighs while you convulsed and shuddered, and undulated. Fuck, he knew your body too well. You arched off the bed one final time then slumped down, defeated.
You gawked in disbelief while he watched you scramble for breath with a cocked brow. Your body’s capacity for pleasure knew no bounds when Jaehyun was the one pleasing you. “Ready to take my cock?” he asked, excitement nipping sharply in his chest at the thought of ruining you.
You nodded your head almost instantly. Your lack of patience was written all over you and you wanted him. Right now.
Jaehyun’s hands were quick to reach for his cock, steering himself skillfully to bury himself inside of your pussy. A wet sound filled the air when he sank inside and you instantly moaned his name as though it was an instinct.
You drove Jaehyun mad when you called out his name like that; with pining and desperation, and everything in between. Heaven had brought you to him and fate would keep you by his side until the very end.
“Jay,” came your airy voice. Just being filled with your husband’s cock made you feel like you were elevating, ascending into the air.
Your sounds were euphoric and drove Jaehyun to the very brink of madness, and with the last of his restraint gone, he was impelled to move at long last, thrusting into you at a leisurely yet hard pace. He lowered his face to meet yours, lips locked in a wet smack. You were skin to skin, your stiff nipples pressed against his bare chest.
Every moment was as special as the first. As a woman groomed to become a figure of importance, you were raised to remain chaste until marriage. And the day you exchanged vows with Jaehyun, he made your whole body shudder.
“God is a woman,” Jaehyun rasped, heart racing so quickly it might have burst. You were warm all over and his hands roamed every nook of your body, every curve.
Even though you wanted to laugh, all that came from your mouth was a breathless moan. Moments like these where you knew nothing but Jaehyun, scooped into his strong arms, you couldn’t help but realize how lucky you were. Not a second went by where you took him for granted.
Things could’ve been different. Jaehyun could have been an insufferable spoiled prick that acted entitled to his wife, but he was far from the visions of him you saw in your nightmares. You were grateful to be married to a man that both respected you and valued your happiness.
You locked your legs around him, pulling him into you deeper, and kissed him until the two of you were gasping for air. “You get me so wet, Jay,” you whispered, tangling your fingers through his head.
At those words, Jaehyun released an animalistic growl, so aroused you thought he might break. His thoughts revolved solely around you. How much like poison you were. How outrageously perfect you were. Head to toe.
You beamed with pride, pleased to have such a dangerous effect on your husband. The two of you meeting each other was mutually assured destruction. Nothing had been the same since Jaehyun laid eyes on you. When he saw you for the first time, he knew that he had to have you.
While your body rocked from the sheer force of Jaehyun’s thrusts, the boat gently thrashed in the water. Your breasts bounced and the sight had made Jaehyun lose what was left of his mind. One day, in the none too distant future, they would be swollen with milk and Jaehyun imagined you carrying his children.
That thought alone could have finished him. He thought of it every time he fucked you full of cum, pumping his load inside of you rough and deep, just the way you begged for him to. Watching your belly swell with your shared child would do unspeakable things to Jaehyun’s psyche.
Part of you drowned out the sounds of the water splattering against the boat in favor of listening to Jaehyun’s relentless groans. Your husband always had a flair for the romantic. Hopelessly, he used to think, until he met you.
Staring up at Jaehyun, you were bewitched by the gentle gracefulness of his features, especially as they tensed with unbridled pleasure. “Can I tell you something?” you asked.
Jaehyun nodded his head. “Anything,” he whispered.
“You smell so good.”
Jaehyun’s laughter rang out in your ears. The sight and sound brought a smile to your face. You didn’t know anyone with a more perfect laugh and you would give anything to see it again. “That’s so random.”
“But true,” you added, inhaling his scent the closer he got to your naked chest. There was hardly any space between you two at all.
Jaehyun was all smiling from ear to ear. “Can I tell you something?”
“Always.”
Jaehyun leaned into your ear, deepening his voice to a breathtaking whisper, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
Your heart stopped. There was something about his voice tickling your earlobe that made you gush and tighten around his cock. After searching for the ability to speak, you replied, “Funny. I feel the same way about you.”
Jaehyun chuckled deeply and you swore you became lightheaded. “Yeah?”
“Can I tell you one more thing?”
“Go for it.”
“I’m about to cum,” you told him, climax threatening to rip you apart.
“I’m gonna make you cum,” Jaehyun said, voice dark with determination. You gasped when his fingers sank to your clit and his thumb teased your bundle of nerves.
Heat swallowed you whole. You couldn’t process all of the sensations that your body was experiencing all at once. A scream came out of your mouth and Jaehyun stifled them with his palm as you trembled with orgasm, cursing the stars.
Jaehyun didn’t stop fucking until he was certain that you couldn’t take anymore. You went round after round, fisting the sticky sheets, grateful that he chose to take two trips across the lake. You had time to kill.
Your body was worn and utterly spent when Jaehyun was finished with you. You fell slack against the sheets, unable to move your stiff limbs. Given that Jaehyun was left with more than a handful of responsibilities, it should’ve come to you as no shock that he took his stress out on you.
And you were more than eager to let him. When Jaehyun made love to you, the power he wielded over you was endless. Your body was seized by him and your heart was his on a platter.
“I love you,” Jaehyun whispered deeply in your ear. It was enough to drive any woman mad. You were too breathless to say anything back, chest undulating.
For a couple of moments neither of you could hardly move and you stayed nestled into each other’s side till you regained the strength to hunt for your tossed clothes. Flush against Jaehyun’s skin, the sexual tension still lingered, and he was overwhelmingly aware of how naked you were.
After quickly redressing yourselves, you just sat on the bed for a little longer, feeling the boat still sway and knowing you weren’t back home. Jaehyun’s hand was flat against your backside, never letting you forget that he was at your side.
You tried to fend off some wandering thoughts, but your curiosity got the better of you and you surrendered to your need to know. “Jaehyun, I have something to tell you.”
Your tone was not lost on him. “It sounds serious.”
“Yeah, kind of,” you replied, swallowing the taste in your throat that made you nauseous. “It’s about my dreams. It’s not just the owl noises. I think there’s something else going on.”
Jaehyun’s brows were furrowed. “Like what?”
There was a lump in your throat. After you confided in him about your doubts and suspicions, there was no going back. “Like the piano,” you said, unsure of yourself.
Jaehyun’s demeanor shifted suddenly, aggressively. He went from cool and collected to stern on a dime, chastising, “Stop looking.”
His tone affronted you. “Excuse me?”
“It’s for your own safety. You need not to worry your pretty little head.”
Narrowing your eyes, you pressed, “So there is something going on that you’re not telling me.”
Jaehyun exhaled a heavy breath, smoothing a hand through his hair. “Promise me you’ll stop prying. This is serious. I will tell you everything that you need to know when it’s time.”
“Jaehyun, you know I can’t promise that,” you whispered.
“Please,” Jaehyun said, eyes glistening.
God, he was begging you? It had to have been serious. You couldn’t fathom him pleading for you not to investigate otherwise. But rather than discourage you, it only intensified your will to get to the bottom of the matter.
Massaging your temple, you sighed, “Okay. Pinky promise.”
You giggled when Jaehyun interlocked his pinky finger with yours, but you weren’t certain how long you would be capable of keeping that promise.
Soon after your confession, the captain signaled that the boat had returned to the dock. Jaehyun led you back through the narrow hallway with your hand in his, as if nothing had happened.
The sex. The little divulgence that followed. He’s way too naturally gifted at slipping back into this royal character, you realized. In a way, you already knew that. Jaehyun could fuck the daylights out of you then smile and wave at the media as if he was their innocent successor to the throne.
Though this was different. Jaehyun obviously had no intention of letting you know exactly what he was hiding any time soon. And if he thought you would just sit around and wait for answers, he had severely underestimated you just like every other man in this country.
Something unforgivably dark and sinister was happening. That was undeniable. You just needed to find out what.
Hours came and went, as did people. Jaehyun was right, you supposed. The country never slept. The palace alone was bustling with life at all times.
Which made you think. If both you and Giselle were apprehensive of the obvious skeletons the monarchy had in its closet, there was no way you were alone. Somebody else had to know something. Somebody with just as much to lose.
You just had to play your cards right. Giselle didn’t lie when she said that she had a lot more at stake than you. Even if the royal family abandoned you for whatever reason, you had the safety net of your own wealthy family to fall back on. Not everybody was as fortunate.
When the sun set below the horizon, Jaehyun accompanied you to his grandfather’s bedchamber, though only because you didn’t want him to grow suspicious. The piano was the only way to bulldoze your ceaseless thoughts. You were lost in your own head.
“I love you, Jaehyun,” you told him out of nowhere.
Jaehyun looked pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t often you confessed your affections. “Where’s this coming from?”
Your mind wandered back to earlier. Though you weren’t happy about him brushing off your concerns, your heart couldn’t deny the way it thumped for him. “I never said it back. And you didn’t make me.”
“Because I already know.”
You blew out a breath. Your heart told you not to risk losing his trust, but your mind was screaming that he was keeping something from you. Days ago, you would’ve been more than content with submissively obeying your husband’s commands.
But peace had never been an option.
It wasn’t long before you crept into bed with each other. You slept peacefully and uninterrupted by any nightmares. Again.
Breakfast was spent together as always. Now that his parents had left the two of you in charge, it was often the only time you had available in the mornings to share.
Any other morning, you would complain, but you were waiting with bated breath for the opportunity to get away and sneak around like a thief in the night. You weren’t keen on lying to Jaehyun, but he would just have to understand the rationale. You couldn’t keep living antsily.
You spread some butter on your toast and asked, “Would you like to visit the markets with me this afternoon?”
Jaehyun frowned. Had he not been so busy, he would’ve done whatever you wanted. You wondered why your schedule was so clear, because when Jaehyun was preoccupied, half the time so were you. “I would love to, but the committee needs my opinion on some political stuff.”
Your tone was disappointed, “Political stuff?”
Jaehyun nodded. He seemed to have fallen for it somehow. “I won’t bore you with the details.”
“Well, I won’t keep you, then,” you said, taking a sip of steaming hot coffee. Jaehyun had made it for you just the way he knew that you liked it.
“Are you trying to get rid of me? I’m not expected to be present for another fifteen minutes.” Jaehyun’s tone was light, but the accusation made your heart beat faster.
Donning your most innocent voice, you assured him, “Of course not. I just know how much you like to be punctual.”
“That is true,” Jaehyun muttered.
Ironically, the hours seemed to drag on, because you couldn’t wait for Jaehyun to leave for once. The second he was finally far out of your vicinity you discarded your leftovers and prepared yourself for the grueling task ahead of you.
Only when you emerged from the dining hall and set out on your little exploit did it occur to you that you didn’t have even the slightest clue who to ask. A couple of servants had been around quite longer than others, yet they were dreadfully tight-lipped. But for good reason.
Bumping into a younger one, you exclaimed, “Oh, good heavens! Pardon me, Mr. Kim.”
Jungwoo bowed gracefully and replied, “No, I apologize, Your Highness. I’ll pay closer attention.”
“It’s fine. I’ve been out of it since I got out of bed with Jaehyun,” you confessed, flashing a courteous smile.
To your surprise, Jungwoo threw you a baffled glance. “You share a bed with the prince?”
“Yes, he is my husband. Is that odd?”
“I’m surprised. It goes against tradition. The king and queen have always had separate bedrooms,” Jungwoo told you, scratching the back of his neck.
That was news. Though given how secretive these people were, everything was news to you. “I didn’t know that.”
Jungwoo rifled through his pockets for a spare key, pressing it into a lock on a nearby door as he rambled, “I wouldn’t either, but my dad worked here. And my granddad. With their debts, they passed down useless knowledge.”
Your interest was quickly piqued. Maybe you didn’t need to take your chances with an older worker after all. Jungwoo, way more affable and approachable, bore the knowledge of generations. “No knowledge is useless.”
“Yeah, maybe, but it’s not exactly power,” Jungwoo said, grabbing some items out of a utility closet.
“What do you mean?”
You watched Jungwoo shut the door and promptly lock it behind himself. “There are some things it’s better you don’t know, ma’am.”
“I’m sick of other people telling me what’s best for me,” you grumbled irritably. “I already know about the piano. Well, kind of.”
Jungwoo’s entire attitude flipped on a dime. Glancing across the hallway twice as if he was preparing to cross a road, he dropped his items on a cart and spoke softly, “Follow me.”
Obviously, you were confused, but you didn’t dare disobey. This might’ve been your only chance at getting closer to the truth.
Jungwoo led you to a door hidden behind the stairway with a big sign warding off intruders, though it was locked, as to be expected. This family apparently couldn’t afford to take any chances. With what, you had no clue.
Strangely enough, Jungwoo had a key and wheeled his cart inside of the room after it clicked open. You curiously trailed behind him once he locked it behind you, wanting to know all there was to learn about this place.
There was a chain to your right and Jungwoo tugged on it, watching the lights barely flicker on. It was dim and empty, and though it was a test of your willpower, you fought off your nerves and remained unbroken.
Narrowing into a hallway, the entrance seemed to go on for a hundred miles and a half. Your footsteps bounced off every wall and the sound made you nervous. Of course, Jungwoo would never in his life knowingly lead you astray and you chose to have faith in the belief that he’d never bring you straight to danger.
But it made you wonder. If you recalled correctly, Giselle mentioned something about scratching in the walls. Your understanding of architecture was limited, but this place had to be built in between other parts of the castle.
Weird, you whispered to yourself, rubbing your arms. It seemed that the deeper you went down this hallway, the colder the air got.
“Watch your step. It’s creaky,” Jungwoo warned, leaving his cart in the hall. You glanced around him to see what he was talking about and that was when you noticed another set of stairs.
You shook your head and cursed, “Pardon my language, but Jesus Christ - how deep does this shit go?”
Jungwoo chuckled. “Too deep, ma’am.”
You had no strength to tell him to drop the titles. This was a few conversations far from your first encounter with Jungwoo and he respectfully declined each of your suggestions for him to call you by your name.
The floorboards did indeed creak as you stepped down them and the sound couldn’t have been any more unnerving. You appreciated Jungwoo dutifully walking in front of you as if he was defending you with his life. Not that there was anything down here to jump out and get you.
You hoped.
Whatever disaster of a room that you just walked inside of was far from what you expected this staircase to lead to, though you weren’t too sure. At the end of the seemingly never-ending hallway was nothing but a pile of junk. If you were being frank, it looked like a bunch of hungry wild animals had a field day. Things had been tossed. Almost as if a fight of some kind had unraveled here.
It was a hot mess. The place looked a solid minute away from crumbling in on itself, and that was you being generous. Your arm hairs were standing at attention now. You took one good look at the barrels just shy of you, noted the temperature, and pieced together why.
“It’s… a cellar,” you said, noticeably disappointed.
“It was a cellar,” Jungwoo told you, glancing around and wrinkling his nose. “This room hasn’t been used for at least a decade.”
Voice dripping with sarcasm, you deadpanned, “You don’t say.”
“Oh, I say.”
Your lips parted and the room echoed with your laughter. You were very grateful that Jungwoo made you laugh, because it helped you forget how anxious everything about your surroundings made you. “Why?”
Jungwoo outwardly processed every emotion and confusion was the most expressive of the plenty. “Pardon?”
“Why did you bring me here?”
Jungwoo stepped forward, inspecting the walls as if he was checking for damages. And there were many. “Because I have something to tell you that I can tell nobody,” Jungwoo said, his usually chipper tone borderline stern. “But first I need you to tell me what you know.”
Those weren’t exactly inviting words, but it was Jungwoo. You could trust him. Or maybe you wanted to, at least, but you couldn’t even trust Jaehyun. You confessed, “Assuming you mean the piano, it’s nothing much. But I know it’s connected. To the sounds I hear at night, I mean.”
“Oh, the walking. And the whispers,” Jungwoo said like it was the most normal thing in the world.
You shook your head in disappointment. You weren’t fucking crazy and Jaehyun’s family wasn’t going to trick you into thinking that you were. “I knew I wasn’t the only one.”
Jungwoo’s tone was only slightly accusatory, “Jaehyun doesn’t know that you’re investigating.”
You frowned. He was a little too good at this. “You didn’t phrase that like a question.”
“There’s no way that he would let you get this close.”
“It’s been justified,” you huffed, irritated. All this secrecy and suspense was killing you. You just wanted to get to the heart of… whatever.
Skeptical, Jungwoo’s head was tilted. His loyalty was in you, but also the heir. “Has it?”
You donned your most assertive voice and reasoned, “Jaehyun is obviously keeping something from me. Things that keep me up at night for hours. I refuse to continue my life in such a manner. It’s an eye for an eye.”
Jungwoo listened to your rant and agreed that your actions were justified. Thus he would be keeping this between the two of you. With a nod, Jungwoo replied, “Okay, I understand.”
You nodded. “Good.”
“But I also understand the prince.”
Your eyes darted to Jungwoo.
Before you could part your lips to speak, Jungwoo added, “Because once you know the truth, it spreads and festers like a wildfire. If you let it, it can consume you. That’s why I hate that you know this.”
“I don’t know anything,” you grumbled.
“Jaehyun’s grandfather used to own that piano in his bedchamber,” Jungwoo started, passing down what only moments ago he thought was useless info.
“Yes, I know. Jaehyun told me.”
“Yeah, well, his grandfather was extremely territorial with the piano,” Jungwoo said hesitantly. “If there was a problem, he cleaned it himself. Mended it himself.”
You were yet to understand what that had to do with anything. “Sounds like he just didn’t want anybody touching his stuff.”
“That’s what my dad thought, but apparently anybody who touched it either died mysteriously or disappeared without a trace soon after.”
Your expression shifted from confused to painfully perplexed. “That’s foolish.”
“I told you that my father worked here. He thought it was rubbish. Then, one day after leaving to clean that very bedchamber, he never came back home,” Jungwoo said, willing himself to keep it together. After so many years, grief was a nonfactor. Despair was channeled into anger.
“Jungwoo…,” you trailed, choosing your words carefully. You knew what it was like to lose somebody. “Are you sure?”
Jungwoo’s eyes were sharper than you had ever seen them. You never knew such an easy-going guy was harboring so much pain. “I’ve been told that because I’m grieving a loss, I’ll believe anything for closure. I don’t agree. There’s something fishy going on and unlike the others, I’m not afraid to admit it to myself.”
“This is a lot,” you told him.
Jungwoo nodded, wholly aware. “True, but it doesn’t stop there. Did you know that Jaehyun had an older brother?”
Your shoulders stiffened, because you recalled mentioning that Jaehyun was an only child yesterday, and he became deflective. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, four years older. Apparently, he died after falling out of a window.”
You grimaced. “He commited suicide?”
“So the story goes,” Jungwoo answered, but his tone said loud and clear that he didn’t buy it for one goddamn minute. “And get this - he fell from the window of his grandfather’s bedchamber.”
Scratching the back of your head, you asked skeptically, “How come the public didn’t know about the first-born son?”
Jungwoo snorted. “I had a feeling that you would ask. The royal family waits five years before announcing the birth of their children. Isn’t that convenient?”
“Almost too convenient,” you mumbled under your breath. If Jaehyun’s older brother died just shy of five years old, that would’ve simplified the process of covering up his death.
Jungwoo glanced over at you, aching. And maybe a little desperate. “Do you believe me?”
A tiny sigh escaped your mouth and you planted your palm on your forehead, overwhelmed by the load of information that was just dumped on you and unsure what to do with its weight. “If what you’re saying is true, this is dangerous,” you replied levelly.
Jungwoo huffed, “You’re telling me.”
“But Jaehyun and I have touched the piano on several occasions. I play it every night just so that I don’t have to hear those godawful noises,” you added, hesitating. “Shouldn’t I be dying?”
Jungwoo fell silent for a sudden, mulling something over. Then, he said quietly, “There is another possibility...”
“What?”
“Perpetuity,” was Jungwoo’s response, voice quieting even though only you were there to hear him. “This one I’m not so sure of. The rumor is that if you touch the piano, you meet one of two fates. Death at your hand, or being condemned to your worst nightmare. It sounds like bullshit.”
His confidence seemed to waver, but you were interested. You were driven by a determination to discover all there was to know about this godforsaken place. “How exactly is one condemned to their own nightmare?”
“Your deepest fear will become your ultimate fate,” Jungwoo explained, wrapping his arms around his torso. “Your worst nightmare will come to life. And you’ll live it everyday until you die.”
You devolved into nipping cold shudders. And it had little to nothing to do with the basically subzero temperature of the room that you occupied. Of course, Jungwoo didn’t mean literal nightmares, but it didn’t help that not too long ago you were being haunted by bad dreams.
Your worst fear was living the same day for the rest of your life. Adventure was your natural instinct and curiosity was your vice. It’s what you stood for and a part of yourself that you refused to negotiate. You could’ve had every dollar that the world had to offer, but you would never gamble away your freedom.
Thankfully, this life gave you more than enough. So what you were expected to be beautiful and ladylike when people had their eyes fixed to you. Did it matter? That didn’t change that when there was nobody there to judge you, you were liberated.
Because it had always been that way, ever since you were a kid. You knew that to some people your existence served one purpose. And you didn’t care. You got to be yourself in the solace of this gigantic palace.
At least for now. Freedom came with a sacrifice; your own sanity and peace of mind. And truth be told, you weren’t sure if it was a fair trade.
“I’ve been having these dreams,” you started, swallowing.
“What kind of dreams?”
“Bad ones,” you confessed, wanting to curl into yourself. Those dreams put the fear of god into you. “When the noises weren’t keeping me awake, these nightmares would take their turn. Jaehyun hunted me down in all of them. And I would wake up after he catches me.”
Jungwoo noticed that your voice was a little shaky and offered you a compassionate hand squeeze, saying, “It’s okay. They’re not real. Jaehyun wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I know, but…,” you trailed. “I had them repeatedly. Same dream, different night. The only other difference was that they would happen in another place. But they stopped after Jaehyun started taking me to play the piano before bed.”
Jungwoo stiffened. “That’s… convenient.” Like a lot of things here.
“I know,” you agreed, shaking your head. Just the thought of Jaehyun was making you tremble with anger. You knew he was secretive, but it felt like he was borderline lying to you.
Then again, Jaehyun didn’t deny that there was something that he was keeping from you. Instead of telling you cheap excuses of consolations, he admitted that there was something grave enough he couldn’t even confide in you about it. And you didn’t know if that was worse.
Things were beginning to appear increasingly more eerie. “Do you want to know why I took you down here?” Jungwoo asked quietly.
Bobbing your head, you shifted to give Jungwoo your undivided attention. Something about the vibes of this room put you off. You didn’t like it. You could sense that something heinous had occurred maybe in the very spot that you stood.
“The prince’s grandfather spent a lot of time down here.”
“Really?”
Jungwoo nodded. “Apparently, he flipped out one day and trashed the whole place. It happened a few days before he passed, so the story goes. Then, they relocated the cellar and closed this room off.”
That explains the mess, you thought to yourself. But not much else. “Why would they do that?”
“Like hell I know,” Jungwoo replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “My bet is that they’re hiding something. Which we already knew, but I get lost every time I try to figure out what it is exactly.”
“You aren’t the only one,” you droned, releasing a pained breath.
Jungwoo mustered a smile, but it was thin. “Well, if it’s quite alright, I would like to return to my duties, Your Highness.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for everything. You’ve been a great help,” you said, bowing respectfully in gratitude.
Jungwoo mirrored your movement. “It’s been a pleasure,” he told you sweetly. “I can’t skip out on my daily responsibilities, but if you ever need me, say the word and I’ll come.”
After thanking Jungwoo again and him assuring you that you weren’t in any way indebted to him, you trailed him up the creaky stairs and headed your own separate ways.
The brightness of the hallway compared to the lifeless cellar made you squint your eyes and wobble towards the edge of the stairs as you took a moment to readjust. Your brain also needed a second to process the newfound information. Now you had more answers, but twice as many questions.
Maybe Jungwoo was right. Maybe knowledge wasn’t power; it was a burden. But you were already in too deep to quit looking.
Jaehyun was too preoccupied to accompany you to his grandfather’s former bedchamber tonight and thus you opted out of the visit altogether. Of course, you knew what would inevitably happen if you didn’t press those keys, but you had an aggressive curiosity to sate.
The piano and your dreams were related. You knew that now. But if one of the piano’s unpredictable fates was to prolong its victims' agony, how come it abated yours instead?
For half a second, you wondered if Jungwoo was really telling the truth. You wanted to believe him, you really did, but something came to you and whispered not to trust anyone.
Not even Jaehyun. Hell, especially not Jaehyun.
Pulling the blankets over his thighs, Jaehyun glanced over to you as he crawled into bed and asked, “Did you have a good day without me?”
“It was long without you,” you replied, plopping a glass of water at your bedside in case you got thirsty.
“I’m sure. What did you do?”
“A little bit of everything. I had the most wonderful dinner. I only wish you could’ve stuck around for dessert. The chef said he misses cooking in front of you.” It was only partly a lie. Your weakened appetite wouldn’t allow you to eat in spite of the full-course meals prepped for you.
Jaehyun was smiling at some passing memories of him tagging along with you to aggravate the chef with curious banter. Though you mainly did all of the talking. “That’s good,” he said, chuckling quietly in amusement. “Tell him that I’m sorry I wasn’t there to hush you.”
Rolling your eyes, you grumbled, “Whatever.”
Jaehyun's infectious laughter filled your ears again. “Goodnight,” he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to your brow.
“Goodnight,” you said back, releasing a shaky breath. For all of a second, you forgot that you were mad at him. His arms felt safe. Like home.
This is your home now. A cool shudder wrecked through you. How Jaehyun could feel so dangerous but so inviting all at once was beyond you.
You sank to your bloodied knees, unable to withstand the cramp shooting its way up your calves. Your tireless sprinting left you with just enough strength to crawl behind a door, thanking god that it was unlocked and quietly pushing it closed.
The space was completely silent, save for your labored breaths that you endeavored to suppress. Jaehyun couldn’t have been too far. It was a blessing that you even managed to escape him.
For now. Something told you that he wouldn’t give up so easily.
Pure darkness suffocated you with its chokehold. You glanced up and searched desperately for a light source. Your surroundings were virtually invisible. Propping your hands on the door, you pushed yourself off of the floor and groped the wall for a light, finding a chain and tugging it impatiently.
It took a couple of tries for the lights to flicker on. The space around you was hardly any less dim, but at the very least, you could make out where you were.
“Darling, come back,” called out Jaehyun’s featherlight voice just outside of the door. “Let’s just talk. All I want is to talk.”
He was closing in. You never realized your heart could thump at this quick of a rhythm. You never imagined the day where you would be terrified for your life. Your eyes winced in pain as you moved along the cracked wall, but you couldn’t stop.
Shivers tensed your entire body as you descended down the hallway. Bare feet hit the cold naked floor, because you opted out of running in heels minutes earlier.
Jaehyun’s footsteps came louder, closer. You swore quietly to yourself, realizing that the lights might’ve shone under the door and given you away. But the harder you tried to move, groping the wall for purchase, the more tempted you were to cry out in excruciating pain.
And then the worst happened. The door opened, a fraction of outdoor light stretching down the hallway to where you stood.
Your heart screamed in panic and alarm. Fear was merciless. None of this was fair. Jaehyun could give chase for hours, and he would if it came down to it, but you were running on empty.
“Baby, I know you’re in there,” Jaehyun called out gently, yet menacingly altogether.
It took everything in you not to mutter, “Fuck,” under your breath as you tried to get further and further away from him, hoping and wishing that he wouldn’t follow you if you were quiet enough.
Taking in one deep inhale, you tried to stabilize your breathing, but after running halfway across the palace, your work was cut out for you. You walked inch by inch, careful with your motions in case your injured legs misstepped and you came to the ground with a resounding thud, and moved as soundlessly as you could.
To your shock, you came across a stairway. In spite of how strangely familiar it seemed, you didn’t know where it would take you, but there was absolutely no way in hell that you were turning back.
It was only down from here.
Except there was a problem. The stairs had no railing and you didn’t trust yourself to feel your way through without tumbling down to your doom. You dropped to the floor again, putting your back to wherever the stairs led, and began to descend.
Jaehyun’s footsteps let you know he was still there, easing his way down the dark hallway. You didn’t understand why he walked so leisurely, taking his time to capture you. Almost like he knew you wouldn’t get far either way.
Your feet passed one stair at a time, cautious. You didn’t want to make any noise, but that ship sailed when one of the stairs creaked loudly. They reacted unfavorably to too much pressure, whining in response.
Panic made your blood thump in your ear and you hoped that Jaehyun didn’t hear, but you gave up on that when he said, “Darling, I can hear you.”
With all hope gone, you scurried down the stairs, ceasing to care about how safely you got there as long as you still made it alive in the end. You didn’t focus on breathing. Only on getting the fuck out of here.
You kept glancing up the stairs just to make sure Jaehyun wasn’t too near until your foot touched a different cool surface and you knew you were at the bottom. When you turned around though, your terror only intensified.
There was no place for you to go. Nowhere for you to run. There were no other paths for you to take because the room was a dead end.
“Give up, baby,” Jaehyun said, finally at the top of the stairs. He was coming down, slowly but surely, and he was going to take you. “I’ve got you. There’s nowhere else for you to run.”
With every step he took down the stairs, you took twice as many backwards, wobbling towards a wall. Like there was some kind of secret passage that would save your life.
There was no use anymore. Jaehyun set his feet on the floor and grabbed you just as you tried to turn away from him, pulling you into his open arms. You never stood a chance. He was stronger than you. Faster than you.
“It’s all okay,” Jaehyun whispered as you sobbed, your back burning wherever his fingers attempted to soothe you. “We’re together now.”
Your body veered to life, jerking awake. Your eyes instinctively snapped to your legs, searching them for injuries, but at worst they looked slightly stiff.
The rest of you trembled. You knew this was going to come, but it felt worse than you remembered. With a quick glance to your left, you noticed that Jaehyun wasn’t there.
You didn’t know if it was really something that you should’ve thought twice about or if the circumstances were just naturally making you suspicious. Either way, you wanted to know where he was. After a long day of handling his responsibilities, he should’ve been unable to leave bed, and yet, his side of the bed wasn’t even a little warm.
Too cold for him to be in the bathroom. Too cold for him to take a quick trip to the kitchen for a midnight snack.
You impulsively decided to investigate and rose to your feet, putting your toes in your slippers and stealthing down the corridor. You didn’t know where to look, but it helped that you saw a light coming from just down the hall, and you followed it discreetly.
All it would take was one wrong move for Jaehyun to overhear your footsteps. There didn't seem to be anyone patrolling down this corridor, which was typical, because Jaehyun’s family usually had their guards stand outside the entrance doors.
That only meant that you had to be quieter. The door to Jaehyun’s office was wide open, inviting anyone to see what he was up to, but you didn’t want to make yourself known yet. You wanted to see who he was when you weren’t there.
Ignoring the formidable stares of the statues, you crept closer to Jaehyun’s private office, breathing solely through your nose. The same hallways you loved to cruise seemed so much scarier when the lights were off.
Finally, you approached the light, hearing chatter the closer you grew to the door. You attached yourself to the wall, peaking your head inside ever so slightly. But when you saw what was happening inside, you stifled a gasp.
Jaehyun was at his document-laden desk, looking far from exhausted, and he was sitting face-to-face with Jungwoo.
“Accordingly, I will have to take charge of the country a little longer and my parents duties will fall into my palms,” Jaehyun said, folding his arms across the desk.
Given that you were at an awkward angle, you couldn’t see Jungwoo's face, but you could hear the confusion in his voice, “I understand, Your Highness, though respectfully, I don’t see why you asked me here.”
“I’m requesting a favor.”
“May I know what it is?”
You shuffled to get a better glimpse into Jaehyun’s office, but scraped the floor with your heel in the process. You swore under your breath, hoping they didn’t hear you, and sensed your heartbeat quicken.
Jaehyun stiffened in his chair. “Did you hear that noise?”
“Well, this palace is infamous for them, but I’m afraid that I can’t say that I’m a victim of sound,” Jungwoo replied, cocking his head to trail his gaze where Jaehyun’s had fallen.
Your face tensed with confusion. Jungwoo didn’t hear the noises?
“That’s not what I meant,” Jaehyun said, standing from his seat to investigate.
At the sound of footsteps, you quickly tiptoed towards a nearby door, pushing it open and squeezing yourself between hardware supplies. It was a tight fit, but you only focused on avoiding Jaehyun.
He glanced around both sides of the hallway, as if he was preparing to cross a bustling road. There was nothing. You were hiding in a closet merely a few feet away.
You exhaled a quiet breath of relief when you heard him retreating, but frowned when you heard the door close behind him. You were clueless. What did Jaehyun have to hide? And with Jungwoo of all people, you wondered.
Stumbling out of the closet and into the darkness, you crossed your arms. Jungwoo was one of the few people you found reliable here, but there was something he knew right now that you didn’t. You turned the corner to withdraw back to Jaehyun’s bedchamber, immediately jotting down a mental note to press him about it later.
When you came back to bed, you found yourself still nervous without Jaehyun beside you. And you rebuked yourself for it instantly after.
You didn’t realize it in your sleep, but the place where your dream occurred was the cellar Jungwoo had taken you to. Only darker. And with a soon-to-be king chasing you to the end.
You shook your head with a groan, deciding that you would catch some sleep. For whatever reason, you had a strange feeling that you’d be needing it soon.
To your shock, it was daylight when you rose again. Somehow, you actually slept through the entire night. The only sounds that jolted you awake were those of impatient knocks coming from the bedchamber door.
You exhaled grumpily and groaned, “Can I help you?”
“Good morning, Your Highness. Per your husband’s wishes, I’ve come to wake you for your schedule today,” came Jungwoo’s voice.
Your eyes snapped open. Glancing to your side, you noticed that Jaehyun wasn’t there, and wondered if he ever returned. “I wasn’t aware that I had anything scheduled for today.”
“It was arranged overnight.”
“May I ask what was arranged?”
Jungwoo answered, “There will be a dinner party this evening in the east wing in honor of His Highness’ grandfather. The staff will be coming to style you shortly.”
Huh, I didn’t know that his grandfather’s birthday was today. Then again, Jaehyun was very private. “Okay, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Before he could run off to take care of his other tasks, you called out, “Jungwoo?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
You considered asking Jungwoo about his encounter with Jaehyun the night before, but decided at the last minute that you didn’t need him to know that you had been there. “Nevermind. Thanks a ton.”
For a whole day, you were kept preoccupied in Jaehyun’s bedchamber with a number of women fixed to you. The hours were so busy that you barely had time to think about your ongoing crisis. And half of you wondered if it was deliberate.
At least for a minute, you did. With the corset throttling the life out of you, it was difficult to focus on anything else. You were grateful when they lessened the pressure on your organs. The dress was a sparkling royal blue, like you suspected the bulk of the guests attire would be. According to Jaehyun, it was his grandfather’s favorite color.
It took hours for the women to finish with your makeup and hair. When the final touches were added, it was rapidly nearing dusk. The sun would be retiring below the horizon and the moon would settle over you now, quietly watching.
Just after seven o’clock, an nth staff member came to escort you to the ballroom on the east wing. You were disappointed that Jaehyun hadn’t come, but sucked it up. Like you, he had most likely been preparing for the party. He must’ve had other roles to fulfill. After all, it was in honor of his late grandfather.
His parents were out of the country, too. You remembered overhearing him mention to Jungwoo that their visit had been extended for whatever reason.
In a nutshell, he was a busy man.
Most eyes fell on you when you entered the ballroom’s double doors. You greeted anyone nearby courteously and extended them a polite thanks for coming, as a princess should welcome her guests.
But your attention was quickly drawn to your husband. You were still mad at him, or at least part of you wanted to be, but he looked mighty fine in that royal blue suit and his dark hair slicked back to hell. Goddamnit.
“Jaehyun,” you said when you finally caught up to him, almost out of breath. He refused to stay in one place for longer than a minute, one-by-one mingling politely with the crowd.
“There you are,” Jaehyun said, appearing more than glad to see you. Then, he grabbed your wrist, pressing his thumb to your pulse with an arched brow. “Your heart’s beating fast. Did you run a marathon before you got here or something?”
“Or something,” you murmured, shaking your head. Your husband was light on his feet.
Jaehyun said to a server passing by, “Please get my wife something cool to drink.”
“Yes, immediately, Your Highness,” the servant replied, making a break for the kitchen.
In the meantime, you scanned your husband. Other than his sexy suit that had your mouth watering to hell and back, Jaehyun was sporting a beaming smile, grinning from ear to ear. He looked happier than usual, in a way.
“You’re giving me that look.”
You flinched. His voice broke your thoughts, but your eyes kept wandering; wondering. “What look?”
Jaehyun retorted teasingly, “The one that makes me feel like you’re going to eat me.”
You snickered. “It’s your grandfather’s birthday. He’d be turning in his grave.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind as long as we had fun. My grandfather was big on milking a celebration for all that it was worth. He partied until his last breath,” Jaehyun joked.
That was delightful news to you. “I didn’t know royals knew how to really party.”
“Please. You should see my mother after three shots of vodka when there’s no camera rolling. She’s full of crazy.”
Your heart simpered. There was a lot you didn’t know and hadn’t seen about this family. Remembering the thought itching at the back of your mind, you wanted to mention how he wasn’t in bed last night, but didn’t know if it was a good time. Instead, you opted for a quiet, “You didn’t tell me your grandfather’s birthday was close.”
You expected Jaehyun to respond with something deflective, but it caught you off-guard when he replied honestly, “There’s a lot of things I don’t tell you.”
Your eyes shone with shock, but you played it off. “Like what?”
Jaehyun kept his eyes fixed to your face without a word, as if he was studying you before making his move. “Darling, If I told you all there was to know about me, we’d be here for days,” he finally said. “Maybe weeks.”
“I want to know you,” you whispered, something poignant in your voice.
“You do know me.”
The gleam in your eye shifted from sad to vicious, to coy. “Do I?”
Jaehyun nodded his head, gently smoothing a hand down the small of your back. “Yes, you do. I may not always lay my heart on the line, but deep, deep down inside, you know me. The real me, baby.”
Your eyes were staring into Jaehyun’s, like they were trying to forcibly peel back his layers and bare his soul to you, but it was all in vain. All you could liken it to was looking at someone with drunk double vision, your eyes deflecting two different images of him and your mind unsure of which one to trust.
Sometimes I feel like you tell me just enough to keep me satisfied. And then you feed me more crumbs when I start to get cranky, like giving a bottle to a baby.
“That drink you wanted, sir,” came a manly voice from beside you.
“Thank you,” Jaehyun replied politely, handing you the glass of water.
You accepted it gratefully, although your thirst was no longer for anything tangible. Nothing that you could touch with your bare, naked hands. It was for something deeper.
Only a couple seconds later, Jaehyun said, “Well, I’d better get going.”
Your eyes went wide. “You aren’t staying with me?”
“I have some more guests to greet and then a speech to give, and then I should be all yours,” Jaehyun told you, shooting you a consoling grin. “You look beautiful in that dress, by the way.”
Your lips spread into a tired smile. “Thanks. I’ve been wearing it all day.”
Jaehyun snorted and gave you a final pat on the back of reassurance before stepping away.
The party seemed to drag on without Jaehyun near your side and you were irreparably bored. You chatted with some guests with a polite set of white teeth ready to flash, but only because it was the expectation. Sneaking a couple of peeks at Jaehyun, it looked like he was still making his rounds.
Usually, the king and queen would help, but they obviously weren’t here. Thus, it was Jaehyun’s problem. He couldn’t just leave his own grandfather’s party unattended. That wouldn’t be in good taste.
You took a curious glimpse around and wondered how long you could disappear without anybody noticing. Probably only a couple of minutes. The whole ballroom would definitely know if you made a break for the double entrance, but if you slipped away through the kitchen, you had better odds.
With your glass of water in hand, you casually sauntered towards the little back hallway, hopeful your guests wouldn’t question your getaway.
When you entered the kitchen, you were immediately asked, “Where are you going?”
“Ten,” you gasped, a hand on your chest. He hadn’t even glanced up from his phone. You nearly dropped the glass of water. It had exhausted its purpose. “Would you ask that to a server?”
Ten retorted, “Would a server enter the kitchen with clacking six inch heels?”
“Touché,” you said. That explained how he knew it was you without even looking.
Ten was the only son of the family chef and he had no regard for the royal life. Well, that was debatable. Your in-laws would’ve thought he was disrespectful, had they (god forbid) ever met. You took Ten as someone unafraid to challenge the status quo. Of course, the two of you vibed. It was refreshing to talk to someone who didn’t remind you of your title every now and then.
Ten never, ever called you Your Highness. Not because he thought it was beneath him, but because he recognized your need for a friend. Not a follower.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Just getting away for a second, if that’s okay with you,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.
Ten gasped dramatically. “During the party in loving memory of your husband’s dead grandfather? That’s scandalous, babe.”
You scoffed. “Please. You’re not even at the party.”
Ten shot back, “I’m not married to the prince, either.”
Though you didn’t mean it at all, you snarled, “You make me sick.”
“You hate that I’m right,” Ten said boastfully, sporting a victorious grin.
“Yeah, whatever,” you grumbled. “Where’s your dad? I thought the stew was supposed to be out fifteen minutes ago.”
Ten shrugged. “Smoke break. I wouldn’t eat it if I were you. Gave me the business.”
You winced. “Jesus. Well, I’ll be back. I need some fresh air.”
“I’ll let the hubby know if he asks questions.”
“Thanks.”
Then, you were on your way.
The corridors were less dense than they typically were, though considering there was an event happening not too many feet away from you, you figured security was keeping a close eye on the hallway on the other side.
If you were being frank, you had no clue where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t be in that room with all those people much longer. Maybe you were starting to realize that the royal scene wasn’t for you. Or maybe it was your heightened suspicion planting those thoughts in your head.
Whatever it was, you didn’t like it. You wondered if Ten would take you in. You had no idea what a day in the life of Ten Lee was like, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out. That was a nice backup plan.
But leaving Jaehyun would sicken you in ways more lethal than any deadly disease. And Jaehyun would never forsake this life in this castle.
It was a part of him.
You’re talking crazy, you hissed to your insane thoughts. Perhaps it wasn’t a great idea to leave you alone by yourself with nothing but your thoughts and the silence that fed them. You might’ve been better off finding a guest with ears prepared to be talked off.
The east wing was unfamiliar to you although much of it looked identical to the west one. When you somehow traveled back over to your side, it came to your attention that the gardens were nearby. Curious, you made a beeline for the doors, wondering if Giselle was out finishing up her obligations for the day.
Night had dulled the sky completely when you stepped onto the familiar stone paths. The moon was there in her full glory, round and curvy with a thin veil of mist overneath, and the stars were few.
The clacking thud that Ten spoke of was a telltale sign of your presence, but you didn’t see anyone there to warn. Instead, the sound grounded you in reality, keeping you as far away from your teetering thoughts as humanly possible.
Wind was the only other sound. Actually, that was a lie; you heard owls lurking somewhere in the distance and knew they were wide awake. A sign that the night had truly begun.
“Hello?” you called out. “Giselle?”
Silence. That was strange. These people usually worked from bright and early in the morning until unsettlingly dark and late at night, but of course, if Giselle had gotten off early, you couldn’t complain. Good for her.
You were prepared to turn away and disappointedly retreat back to the party when you barely noticed something out of place in the corner of your eye.
Blood.
You were a curious person by nature. But this wasn’t an inquisitive investigation. This was a precautionary measure to make sure that nobody was injured.
But what you saw made you physically nauseous, a stir settling in your belly instantaneously. Your first instinct was to scream at the top of your lungs. Giselle was sprawled out just shy of the ice cold stone, lying on her stomach in a thick pool of her own blood.
“Oh my heavens,” you exclaimed, paralyzed with shock. Or fear. Probably a little (or a lot) of both.
Given that there was a ladder pressed against a tall tree and pruners almost right near her body, you made the reasonable assumption that she’d fallen. The shock dimmed a little in order so that you could think, and you kneeled over to check her for a pulse, but came to the heart-stopping conclusion that she was dead.
You backed away from Giselle. Your heart ached for her, but you couldn’t touch a dead body. The smell of death was foreign and overwhelming and you didn’t know how to keep yourself composed. Finding your bearings, you did what any reasonable person would do after discovering a lifeless body.
You went to find help.
It looked like an accident, like she had taken a wrong step and made a fatal mistake, but that didn’t mean you could just leave her there to rot. Somebody still had to call the police. And an ambulance.
Tears blurred your vision as you ran back to the east wing. You couldn’t believe that Giselle was gone. You didn’t want to believe that. She never let you get too close, but you recognized Giselle for the hard-working woman she was that had her life all too suddenly ripped away from her.
Fuck, this shouldn’t have happened. Giselle divulged to you about how her family needed her. They survived off of her income, her grueling long hours of hot hard work.
Your mind couldn’t help but come to the worst possible conclusions. What if she knew too much? She was the first one to mention the piano to you and she seemed to be in denial about something.
No, that’s ridiculous. There’s no way the monarchy would kill a devoted worker for keeping their filthy secrets, especially from their newest addition. She’s been inadvertently doing them a favor.
Then again, someone was guaranteed to keep a secret if it died with them. Still, there was no evidence that her untimely death and the piano’s curse was even remotely linked together. You saw the scene yourself. It looked like an accident, not a crime.
That made you remember what Jungwoo told you in the cellar about the deaths and disappearances. About how anybody who touched the piano either died mysteriously or disappeared without a trace.
You had no way of knowing for sure if Giselle ever touched the piano, but if she was a victim of sound, as Jungwoo put it, that should’ve somehow placed a target on her back. And yours. You shuddered at the thought.
Spooky sounds meant contact with the piano. You had done more than touched it. You’d played it. Almost every night for weeks. Jungwoo mentioned to Jaehyun that he didn’t hear the sounds, but he never told you if he touched the piano, either.
But if his father had, then knowing what Jungwoo knew, you doubted that he would.
Whatever it was, nothing made it easier to cope. Pictures of blood kept flickering behind your eyelids whenever you blinked. Your sobs echoed off the hallway walls with your hurried footsteps, but noticing the double doors finally come into view, you tried to pull yourself back together.
You subconsciously sighed out in relief when you got there, but when you came to draw it open, the hands refused to budge. “Fuck!” you cursed out.
Not that anybody would hear you. There was music thumping beneath your feet even outside the door and it would’ve done you no good to knock. It was strange that the door was locked, though. Now that you thought about it, there also weren’t any guards in the hallways.
But there was another entrance through the back.
Ten, you thought, already running again. Your legs ached from sprinting in heels, but somebody needed urgent medical attention. And Ten had a cellphone.
The kitchen entrance luckily wasn’t too far from where you already were and you came prepared to charge through the doors, but those, like the others, were also locked. You started to bang tirelessly on the door, yelling with complete vigor, “Ten, open the door! Someone needs help!”
There was no answer. You tried to beat harder, to scream louder, but every effort seemed useless. With your voice turning hoarse, that glass of water you left inside the kitchen suddenly sounded tempting.
“What the fuck,” you grumbled under your breath, exhausted and confused and in shock. You needed to lie down, but you refused to rest until help was on the way.
Why would Ten suddenly leave? Dinner couldn’t have even been ready yet. You didn’t know why he tagged along with his dad sometimes, but you did know that they came and went in the same
vehicle.
There was a door just to your left, one that led outside where Ten’s father would’ve parked. You immediately made a beeline for it, curious if they were gone. It was the only way you could rationalize the locked door and Ten’s absence.
You hoped to see somebody out there, and you did, but they weren’t breathing.
The chef was on the ground where he usually took his smoke breaks, bleeding as if he was torn from every seam and had been ripped open from every angle. You gaped, fixing a hand to your mouth as you wobbled in surprise, gripping the nearest wall for purchase.
Turning away from him, you heaved for breath and tried to keep your stomach's contents inside where they were. But there was blood splattered everywhere you looked. And if you thought the stench was overpowering earlier, you were in for the wildest ride of your life.
This death said loud and clear everything that Giselle’s didn’t. This was no mistake. Matter of fact, this scene was so messy that it couldn’t have not been done deliberately.
“Oh my god,” you rasped, unsure of what to say. And what to do. Never had you seen a dead body outside of a funeral backdrop and having seen not one, but two very dead people was seriously wounding your ability to think.
All you knew was that something was fishy. You thought Giselle’s death was a self-inflicted mistake, but you weren’t so convinced anymore, all things considered. This was the second body to wash up, metaphorically speaking. And this one had been undeniably murdered.
There was a serial killer on the loose.
Your first thought was Jaehyun and you started to panic, but you consoled yourself with the reminder that he had an entourage of loyal servants to protect him with their lives and shield him with their bodies. He was okay. Giselle and Ten’s father, on the other hand, not so much.
Speaking of Ten, you still had no clue where he was or what he was doing. For all you knew, he could’ve been the killer.
No. There’s no way. Ten didn’t have a mean bone in his body, much less a murderous one. Plus, what would he have against Giselle?
And why would he kill his own father?
I don’t know. None of this makes sense. I don’t know why anyone would hurt Giselle or the chef, or anyone for that fucking matter, you huffed, angry. These people didn’t deserve to die. The person responsible would pay.
Unable to withstand the stench, you pinched your nose and turned for the door. Of course, it would be the only one unlocked. You had the misfortune of seeing what was behind lucky door number three.
Back in the halls, you only walked aimlessly. You had no idea where the fuck you were going and it was probably a terrible idea to be out and about with an anonymous blood-hungry murderer on the loose, but you weren’t thinking that far.
Images continued to flicker in your head. You wondered what were the last things these people saw before they died, if they knew what they had coming. And you realized what a shame it was that everything these people knew died the second they took their last breaths.
You couldn’t wrap your head around this happening. And you wanted to know why. With the chef’s murder, accidents were completely out of the window, and you thought about the piano again. But that made even less sense.
What business would the chef have with the piano? You doubted that man had ever strayed further than the dining hall.
Your thoughts traveled even further. Giselle was a gardener. The bulk of her work happened outside and there was hardly any need for her to come indoors when all the tools for her job could be found in the shed.
More than ever, you needed answers, and more than ever, they seemed impossibly difficult to come by.
The further you traveled down the hallway, the louder the sound of jagged breathing grew until it finally snapped you out of your biohazard of thoughts. You stiffened with alarm, body alert, and realized it might’ve been in your best interest to locate a useful weapon.
You ducked behind a corner, not wanting to be caught like a helpless damsel in distress if it was the killer (though only a lousy one would’ve been so noisy), but you heard a groan and knew in your heart that you recognized that voice.
Peeking around the corner ever so slightly, you noticed Ten clutching his stomach and clinging to a wall for dear life, sticky with hot sweat. And you discerned that he was no threat.
“Ten,” you called out, approaching him with concern. “What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?”
Ten shook his head, only barely keeping himself standing. You came to grab him and noticed he was burning up a thousand degrees, helping him slowly sit on the floor. “I told you. That stew gave me the business.”
“This isn’t just a stomach ache, Ten. I think you were poisoned,” you said, crouched down to be eye level with him.
Ten forced a smile even though he was clearly uncomfortable and in a lot of pain. “Yeah, you’re telling me. But my father was the only one controlling the food. He wouldn’t do that to me.”
The mention of his father made your shoulders stiffen. You scanned Ten’s face, wondering if you should’ve told him what you knew. If he was still alive by the end of this, he would find out one way or another. “Ten, have you seen your dad?”
“I know he’s dead.”
You cocked him a glance. “You don’t sound disappointed.”
“Do I sound like I’m in a lot of pain?” Ten asked.
“You sound like you’re trying to keep yourself whole.”
“That’s because I’m kinda dying here. I’m sorry if I’m bad at multitasking,” Ten hissed, paling on the spot.
Your gaze turned apologetic. “Listen, I’m sorry,” you whispered quietly, glancing around the hallway for suspicious onlookers. “I’ve found two dead bodies and I’ve been running all over the palace looking for help. Please, don’t be the third.”
“Trust me, I don’t wanna be any more than you want me to be…,” Ten trailed, wincing. “Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit. I’m gonna die.”
“Don’t say that!” you screamed.
Ten threw his head back and groaned, “Babe, I feel like my guts are being ripped open, and not in a good way.”
You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Ten was good at keeping the mood as light as it could be as he literally died right before your eyes. And there was nothing you could do to save him. You felt helpless.
“We’ve got to find help,” you told him, grabbing his hands in yours.
Ten shook his head. His skin was glistening with a thick layer of sweat and each of his breaths sounded labored. “I can’t move. The room feels so hot. I think I’m gonna pass out.”
He looked like it, too. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you fought them back. At the very least, if Ten was going now, he wouldn’t go alone. “Ten, somebody did this to you. You already said your father wouldn’t. Somebody else had to be in the kitchen.”
Ten shrugged weakly. “So many people went in and out of the kitchen. I don’t even know their names. It could’ve been anyone.”
You released a shaky breath. That answer helped no one.
Ten’s eyes started to flutter and you shook him in your arms, begging, “No, please don’t close your eyes on me. You’re a fighter. Fight.”
“I’m fighting,” he whispered, voice on the verge of silence. “But sometimes we just lose.”
“I can’t lose you, too,” you cried, trembling as you held him. For as long as he was there, breathing and talking to you, you wouldn’t let him think that he was alone.
Ten shook his head. You knew he had given it his all, because Ten wasn’t the type to go down without a fight, even if he didn’t win in the end. He’d never let someone else claim a peaceful victory. “If I die right now, I want you to know it’s been a pleasure knowing you.”
“Ten…,” you said. Tears made your eyes burn now. You were clenching your fists so hard his hands were probably sore.
“They might come for you. Don’t surrender. Whoever this guy is, you give them hell until you can’t anymore.”
A lone tear finally slipped past your cheek. “What if I don’t make it?”
“Then you die knowing you did absolutely everything you could to stay alive,” Ten whispered with the last of his strength.
Your heart was bursting with sadness and unadulterated rage. To watch somebody in their final moments was different than imagining it unfold. This made it even more real. This was a picture you would never forget even in death.
Finally, Ten’s strength gave out, and you lingered there for a minute even after. Your thumb pressed to his wrist and you noted that he still had a weak pulse.
You nodded your head. That was enough for you. But you had to find help immediately.
And you absolutely had to find out who was responsible for this. They would have a brutal punishment.
You wiped the tears from your eyes and started to run again, but you didn’t get far before you collided into Jaehyun’s chest, and you released a breath of relief when you saw him. “Oh my goodness, Jaehyun. Thank god it’s you. I’ve been trying to get help for ages. Two people are dead and I think Ten’s on his way out.”
Jaehyun’s voice was unbothered. “Really?”
You realized then that the night was far from over.
You pulled back, suspicious. You just told him that two people had died in his castle. He should’ve been fuming. “Why do you sound so nonchalant?”
Jaehyun’s lips were in a line. “I warned you not to go looking too deep. You should’ve listened like a good girl.”
The realization was starting to settle in, but you didn’t want to know the truth. You didn’t even want to fathom it. For so many weeks, you’d been unknowingly wallowing in ignorance. “This is your fault. You did this, didn’t you?”
“Yes. All of it was me,” Jaehyun said, like he was proudly boasting about his murders.
You shook your head. You knew there was something going on, something that your husband was at the heart of, but not like this. “Ten’s dying.”
Jaehyun looked and sounded completely indifferent, “Okay, that’s dramatic. He shouldn’t be dead. He’s in for a solid nap, though. And a concussion if he hit the ground too hard.”
That didn’t happen. You had been the one to personally lower Ten to the ground. Either way, you were none too pleased. You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be reassuring, because Jaehyun’s tone was empty and his face was borderline inscrutable.
Your whole body felt weak. The room was spinning. Your own body was on the brink of collapse.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jaehyun commented, studying your appearance. You probably looked like you had actually run a marathon.
“You’re a monster,” you snapped, brimming with loathing and hatred.
Jaehyun didn’t flinch. “It’s been said,” he told you, like it was only a regular insult to him.
You shook your head. This couldn’t be happening.
Jaehyun took a step closer to you, and you took twice as many back. You wanted to be nowhere near him. This wasn’t the Jaehyun you knew. He was cold. Alternatively, maybe this was the Jaehyun you’d known all along, the one you’d tried to suppress.
Your mind was showing you the warning signs. She was giving you all the right signals. And yet, you were blind to each of them.
Jaehyun tilted his head, looking at you with fucking nothing. There was nothing in his eyes. Nothing on his face. “Do you believe in happy endings?”
“Not with you in it,” you seethed, convulsing with a newfound anger you never thought you could possess, much less direct towards your husband.
Jaehyun snickered for the first time since you’d last seen him. “I’m giving you the chance to have yours.”
You glared at him, wary. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you have thirty minutes to leave this castle and have your happy ending without me, but if I catch you before then, you’re mine. It’s like hide and seek.”
You wanted to rage. This man had the audacity to play fucking games with you when so many lifes were gone and many more were probably at stake. There was no telling who else he’d hurt. “When do my thirty minutes start?”
“Right now.”
You left then and there. You couldn’t stand to be in proximity of Jaehyun for another fucking second. And he didn’t follow. He was letting you think that you had a chance.
When you turned the corner, safely out of his vision, you could finally acknowledge the beaten and battered condition of your heart. The look Jaehyun had given you only moments ago was unlike any other you’d ever seen. It was colder.
You should’ve seen it coming. Jaehyun was the missing piece. This was all happening because of his grandfather’s piano, for fuck’s sake. The same grandfather whose birthday happened to be today. Of course, it wasn’t a coincidence that bodies started dropping that same day.
You were angry. You were hurt. To be honest, you were just the right amount of everything. And yet, you were thinking about how madly you were still in love with Jaehyun.
Wincing your eyes closed, you wished that this was just a nightmare like everything else. That you would wake up in Jaehyun’s arms and he'd tell you that it was all a bad dream. Unfortunately, the longer the night went on, the more you accepted that that couldn’t be farther away from the truth.
The only real difference was that Jaehyun wasn’t right on your tail. He was giving you an opportunity to escape and free yourself from this hellhole once and for all. Your shoulders suddenly felt cold when you recalled something that he’d told you.
I would never chase you, Jaehyun had said. I will always have you right where I want you.
The statement made you feel uneasy then, but you overlooked it, because you wrongfully assumed that Jaehyun was harmless.
You shook the thoughts away. He wasn’t worth thinking about right now. Survival was your top priority and escaping was the only way you’d ever know peace.
The palace had a grand total of four entrances stretched across its acres - the main gate, the east entrance, the south entrance, and the west entrance. Only the east entrance was nearby. You knew Jaehyun wouldn’t have made this easy, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
You hurried to the nearest exit leading outdoors and breathed only a little easier when you were met with the fresh, crisp night air. Given that you’d been running in heels for what felt like hours, you finally ditched them near a bush and started to run again.
Traveling to the gate would take forever without a car. The same could be said about the rest of the castle, far from tiny, and you only had thirty minutes on the clock.
You had to make every minute count.
You wanted to sob, but you focused solely on getting the fuck out of there. You hadn’t forgotten about Ten, but you couldn’t help him here. Jaehyun had apparently taken mercy upon him, sparing his life where he hadn’t hesitated to steal others.
Why? Was it some kind of reflection of control? Did he realize that Ten wasn’t the root of his need to kill?
Whatever that was.
“Too much is going on right now,” you whispered to yourself, heart thudding quicker.
For a second you wondered if the other staff you cared for was alright. These were people you saw everyday, working from dusk till dawn, and yet still treated you with respect and kindness. Their sweetness deserved to be spread, not eliminated and forgotten.
Giselle was gone and had no hope for revival, but as far as you were concerned, Jungwoo was still skipping around with a burden of secrets on his shoulder. Part of you couldn’t bring yourself to fully trust him, not after his disaster of a meeting of Jaehyun, but that didn’t mean he should’ve died.
Apparently, you and Jaehyun weren’t on the same page. The worst part was that you couldn’t even begin to fathom what he got out of slaughtering his employees like animals. You’d never been able to see inside his head.
The east gate came into view and you circled in on it, desperate to make an escape. You briefly considered the possibility of Jaehyun being nearby, potentially having taken a closer exit, prepared to hinder you by any means necessary.
But when the gate refused to budge like you feared, you came to the conclusion that he was definitely far away. Jaehyun was five steps ahead of you.
He had all of the advantages in this twisted game, you realized. Jaehyun grew up in this palace; he obviously had to know all of the ins and outs, every nook and cranny. It would take you, on the other hand, the entire thirty minutes to navigate from one end of the place to the other.
This game was never created to be fair. You remembered him showing you little shortcuts along the palace to make your trips shorter. If you wanted to survive, you’d have to fight for your life.
“Fuck,” you groaned under your breath. You had no way of telling for sure how much time had passed, but if you had to guess, at least ten minutes.
The sky was dark and mistier than it was earlier. At least it felt that way. The tears stinging your eyes made it even harder to see and you were inching closer to succumbing to the battle. If Jaehyun had rigged it from the start, you knew there was no way in hell you were getting out.
But Ten’s words rang out in your brain. He was alive for now, but as far as he knew, they could’ve been his final ones. And you knew you couldn’t give up yet.
Mustering the courage to continue fighting like Ten would’ve, you remembered something. There was an emergency exit near Jaehyun’s grandfather’s room. You didn’t care to know why. Bad things just seemed to happen when he was involved.
Without a second thought, you headed back inside. If you wanted out, you didn’t have a choice.
Your sanity fought for control against your pumping adrenaline and you came to accept that it wasn’t possible for both to coexist with each other. One or the other. And if you were up against a sicko like Jaehyun, you needed to fight fire with fire.
You had to degrade yourself to his level, meet him where he was at. You had to become you at your worst version. A hell-raising monster with a thirst for blood.
There was a familiar ground nearby when you approached the door. The part of the garden you never wandered into, because it was the same place that godawful dream happened. With the pond and stone galore.
You quickly swiped a pitchfork, throwing it over your shoulder, and when you were finally through the door, started sprinting back down the hallways. The emergency exit was all the way in the west wing and you had less time than you would’ve liked to make it the hell out of there.
Every bone in your body ached, but you had too much to fight for. You didn’t even know what all was at stake if Jaehyun won, but you didn’t want to know, and you couldn’t sleep beside him at night anymore knowing who he was and what he’d done.
Turning each corner, you looked around for signs of a lingering Jaehyun before you kept going. Every hallway looked exactly the same as the one that came before it and it made you feel like you were walking in circles, impossible to tell if you were even going anywhere. It was thrusting you far past the brink of madness.
Minutes passed, but courtesy of the painful yet handy adrenaline rush, it felt like seconds when you found the west wing stairs. Taking the elevator would’ve been a quicker option, but if Jaehyun was nearby, he would know if the elevator was preoccupied, and you had no interest in playing russian roulette with your life.
But there was a familiarly pungent smell in the air.
You wanted to be sick when you saw the source. The others were messy, but this death was brutal in ways you had never witnessed. Jungwoo’s remains were perched on the stairs within a pool of nauseating blood, sitting in his own overkill.
His insides were definitely on the outside. Matter of fact, they were everywhere, decorating a number of steps. Jungwoo was savagely mangled and mutilated, similar to how a wolf would ravage an elk, like his killer wanted there to be little to nothing of him left.
“Jungwoo,” you gasped in shock, crouching down as your legs started to tremble.
His dead body was on display. Like the person who killed him wanted you to see what they’d done. And you couldn’t bring yourself to accept that Jaehyun was the reason why.
All the skepticism you had towards him devolved into regret. Of course, Jungwoo wasn’t to blame for any of the wicked stuff happening in the shadows. Like his father, he was a victim. And at the end of the day, like you, all he wanted was answers.
There was a weight on your chest and an unbridled rage spiraling inside your heart. “I’ll find them for you,” you whispered vengefully.
Then, you heard it. Scratching in the walls stretching near the stairway. In spite of the several claims of their existence, you’d never heard them until now. Soon after, you could’ve swore you heard a familiar voice.
Jaehyun. He was in the fucking walls?
Stepping around Jungwoo’s bloody corpse, careful not to step your bare feet in any stray specks of blood, you headed upstairs with a sparkling revolve keeping your blood pumping. The emergency exit was close.
It was actually right down the hallway. When you were walking from the bedchamber with Jaehyun, the journey felt longer, but you ignored every glare from those evil statues and came right in front of the emergency door.
After yanking the knob, it begrudgingly opened and you stepped inside without a moment of consideration. There was no time. Do or die.
The door closed behind you on its own terms. You just kept pushing. This was your only ticket to escape and though you weren’t exactly sure where the path led, you had no intention to stop and fret about your whereabouts. It was worth nothing though, that the deeper you came, the more it felt like a secret passageway.
The hallway didn’t look the way you pictured an escape route. The walls were accessorized with portraits and lights. And you couldn’t believe your shock when you saw it diverge into different paths like a crossroad.
This fucking was a secret passageway.
There was something else you noticed. Those scratches sounded closer than they had when you were outside, like somebody dragging their nails onto the walls as they walked.
“What the fuck?” you wondered.
You stiffened when you heard your husband’s voice, “Darling, is that you? Your thirty minutes are over.”
Nope. Silent as ever, you made for the other path. You were picking your battles.
Jaehyun was probably closer to the way out of here after all. He would’ve never given you a free opportunity. He was probably guarding the escape just in case you were clever (or lucky) enough.
His footsteps were slow. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him, and he was in no particular hurry to catch you. You worried that you were walking into a dead end, but when you came out on the other side, there was another set of doors.
Your eyes flickered between them. You had time to waste before Jaehyun even got anywhere close to you, but you wanted to get ahead. After a moment of carefully contemplating, you made the nerve-wracking decision to go for the right.
When you stepped out, you found yourself right back where it all began. You were outside, but not as far as you would’ve liked. It was the gardens. You glimpsed around and saw the tree you wed Jaehyun under.
Though it had been full of white flowers the day you exchanged vows, promising each other eternity, they had unfortunately succumbed to the drier air.
“That was a fun day, huh?”
Your startled body jolted with alarm and the usual ease that filled you when you realized it was only Jaehyun behind you was nowhere to be found. He was the evil you’d been searching for, hiding in plain sight.
He had you fooled. He made you think that he was somebody he wasn’t. Worst of all, you believed him. You trusted him, completely and utterly. You were willing to give him all of you at the drop of a dime.
“Stay back. I’ll hurt you,” you threatened, posing the pitchfork in your sweaty hands.
Emotion flickered over Jaehyun’s face; amusement. “A pitchfork? That’s really medieval, don’t you think?”
Your tone darkened, “I’m warning you.”
Jaehyun stepped closer, leaving himself open and vulnerable. “Then, do it. I’m right here. I have no weapon,” he said, holding his hands above him.
Panic settled in. It occurred to you that your feelings for Jaehyun would never let him hurt you unless your own life was threatened, and for some reason, you believed that Jaehyun would never hurt you. He had all of the opportunities. Yet he had never a finger on you.
Plus you still needed answers. For yourself, and for the people whose lives were taken because of them. Tears stinging your eyes again and a shattering echoing out in your heart, you tossed the pitchfork aside and roared, “I hate you!”
“That isn’t true,” Jaehyun said, gentle and tender. His voice was loving, but his eyes were soulless. “You love me. I make you happy.”
You shook your head vigorously. “I’ve spent the past couple of hours in distress, all because of you. Why? What’s really going on, Jaehyun?”
“At the end of the day, the piano calls, and I answer. The responsibility skipped my father, but it’s what my grandfather did. I didn’t have a choice,” Jaehyun said, wholly convinced that this was some god-given obligation.
And you were having none of it. It was just excuses. “That doesn’t make sense. You killed all of those people because of a fucking piano?”
“This is why I couldn’t tell you. I knew that you wouldn’t understand. You have to live it to know.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” you seethed, stepping away from him.
Jaehyun didn’t follow. He was comfortable standing there and watching you, because he knew you had nowhere to run. “This isn’t a regular piano. It hands out curses like candy. It’s an entity and to prevent itself from being destroyed, it chooses its protectors.”
The whole world was spinning. Was he trying to tell you that the piano was alive or something?
“He was the chosen protector - my grandfather, I mean. Like I said, it skipped my father and went to me. The piano gives anyone that touches it one of two curses to protect itself. I only enforce that fate.”
The world around you was starting to blur. Jaehyun didn’t see those corpses as people. Instead, he saw them as curses that needed to be removed.
Standing required too much extra strength that you didn’t have. You stumbled and staggered, weakening by the second, and when you started to head for the ground, Jaehyun caught you in his strong arms. “Careful. You might get hurt.”
He was perfectly composed while everything as you knew it was falling apart, piece by fucking piece. Glancing into his eyes, you hissed, “What are the curses?”
“Hm?”
“You said that when someone touches the piano, they get one of two curses. What are they?”
“Death,” Jaehyun said as normal as ever. “Or perpetuity. They have to live their worst fear until the day that they croak.”
You didn’t think that you could get any angrier, but that didn’t even begin to describe the sharp pain heating your whole body up to hell. “You let me touch that piano, you encouraged me to, knowing I would immediately be cursed.”
Jaehyun saw where you were going with this and replied coolly, “If I knew you were going to die, I would’ve kept you away from it.”
“So you knew I would’ve been cursed with perpetuity,” you said in an accusing tone. “Meaning you knew my biggest fear.”
“I might’ve exploited my power. Your every nightmare revolves around me. You’re so scared of me it keeps you awake at night. I had to use that to my advantage. I can’t lose you.”
And there it was. The ugly truth on a silver platter. Jaehyun gave you the creeps and instead of trying to prove his innocence to you, he took advantage of your fear, making sure to create a reality where you would never be able to get rid of him for as long as you both breathed.
This was the end. Glancing at the tree where you exchanged vows only earlier this spring, you realized that everything pointed back to Jaehyun. It always had.
Pulling back from Jaehyun, because you couldn’t stand to touch him, you snapped, “You didn’t chase me, because you knew that in the end, everything led back to you.”
Jaehyun didn’t deny it, chuckling. Like he thought that he was clever. “Why would I chase you when I’ve already bound you to me?”
You physically felt weak and sick. You didn’t want to believe that Jaehyun had somehow manipulated your fate so that you couldn’t leave him. Your only escape was through death. Every shaky exhale you took ached.
Jaehyun continued, “That’s why your little dreams don’t make sense. It doesn’t matter how far or quickly you run away from me. I will always catch you without trying. I always get what I want and you’ll never slip through my fingers. You’re mine.”
At those words, you wobbled away, but it was more like a vicious drawback. “You killed Giselle and Jungwoo and Ten’s father. Why?”
Like he was incapable, there wasn’t a lick of remorse in Jaehyun’s voice when he replied, “I put Giselle out of her misery. She had the perpetuity curse. No matter how hard she worked, she was going to be doomed to her worst nightmare for the rest of life - dying poor. I only made it happen sooner. It was quick.”
You felt like regurgitating yesterday’s lunch the longer this conversation happened, but you held it back.
“Jungwoo had it coming. He didn’t have the curse, unlike his father, but it was obvious that he had a thing for you and it was disgusting. I honestly did him a favor. He doesn’t have to live in pain anymore.”
Had a thing for you? You never got that vibe from Jungwoo. He was polite and respectful, and you treated him likewise. You never thought you would get a man killed for his manners.
“And the chef,” Jaehyun began, pleasure flickering onto his face for the briefest of seconds, but you swore it was there. “He was just practice and a victim of opportunity. It’s been a minute. I’m rusty.”
“You killed him for no reason,” you spat.
“It appears that way.”
Your body recoiled with every unpleasant feeling it had to offer. “You killed Jungwoo for no reason, too. He was just a nice guy,” you said through gritted teeth.
It was like the angrier you got, the calmer Jaehyun stood, taking every one of your metaphorical hits like they were a gentle nudge to the shoulder. “I killed him out of love for you. He wanted what was mine. I had to remind him of his place. He was a nobody.”
Turning away, you decided that you couldn’t look at Jaehyun any longer. You couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. You were upset and disappointed and everything in between.
Jaehyun’s eyes were fixed to that goddamn tree. “I had no feelings for you at first. Marrying you was just another duty I knew I had to fulfill for my country. It was business. But then we started to get to know each other, and I fell for you.”
“I had feelings for you too,” you croaked, voice shaking with pain.
Jaehyun was quick to add, “You still do. Don’t you see what I did for you? I turned you into royalty.”
“I never fucking asked you to,” you screamed off the top of your lungs. Letting the whole palace hear you for all you cared, if anybody was still alive in there. “I married you because it was what my parents wanted. I just happened to actually like you for a minute.”
“You’ll come around,” Jaehyun said nonchalantly, unfazed by your aggression. “You’ll realize that you were made for me. And you’ll accept that our love was written in the stars.”
There were no stars when you glanced into the night sky. Not even a sliver of the moon. Even she was too ashamed of what was happening under her nose right now and couldn’t bear to witness it unfold.
But it dawned on you then. The only time you would ever see the moon and her stars again was if you stepped onto the grounds of this very garden. Jaehyun had caught you. You waltzed straight into his trap and now you had to reap what you’d sowed.
You were his. Whether you liked it or not. You might’ve not ever given up on escaping him, even if it took a lifetime, but for right now, Jaehyun had won.
“Let’s go, baby,” Jaehyun said, wrapping an arm around your waist. You shuddered. His hands were cold to the touch. “It’s late. We should get ready for bed. We have to stop by the piano so that you don’t have bad dreams.”
The walk to Jaehyun’s grandfather’s bedchamber was quieter than it had ever been. You kept him at arm’s length, ashamed. And maybe a little fearful.
And there the piano stood in its glory when the door opened, untouched and unmoving. She was evil as ever, wallowing in her curse. Your fingers ran across the keys as the curse wrecked through your blood, present and constant.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” you whispered, glancing up at Jaehyun.
For the first time in a minute, Jaehyun smiled. He replied sweetly, “Darling, it’s okay. You’ll understand soon. We only have each other now.”
You didn’t want to know what that meant. Instead, you pressed your fingers to the bitterly cold keys, squeezing your eyes closed as you played a melody by heart.
Finally, tears started to fall down, gathering on the keys. Then, you realized that you weren’t a victim of sound, but an indulger. Your body was there, but your mind was with nature. With the blowing wind and gentle breezes, the rippling water and swimming critters.
Your mind was with your friends. With Giselle in the garden, helping her trim branches and plot plants for the queen. With Jungwoo, exploring new places around the palace that you never knew existed. With Ten, rambling about anything and everything under the sun.
You escaped through every harmonious noise, fingers pacing ruthlessly, and keeping your eyes closed as you pretended that everything was okay.
Jaehyun came behind you, resting his head on your shoulder while his arms came around you again. His touch was familiar and though it used to keep you whole, when you sat there, defenseless and helpless, you could feel a piece of you break off and die in his arms.
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