I Will Kms This Is Too Cute, It's 5:13 Am Rn Omd 😭

Wait I have a neck too so does that mean that milana likes me aswell 😍😍

︲ 还是你 〢 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔

╱ ❛   𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖨𝖲 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝖳𝖮 𝖬𝖤? … 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖠𝖭𝖲𝖶𝖤𝖱

𝖨𝖲 𝖠𝖫𝖶𝖠𝖸𝖲 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ❜ ╲

˚　　 ★₊˚﹟💐'    　,　　　　　.

﹙  context. SET DURiNG ‘ORANGE BLOOD’ ERA ; SEE MiLA iN ‘ORANGE BLOOD’ TRAiLER﹚

 ' ˚. ✦ ˑ ִֶ ┆ now playing … ❝ 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 ❞

━━ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗑 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˚ . ┃ SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGED. Mila would dare say that the boys were one such thing — and so was she. Not in the sense that they were stagnant, but in the sense that their hearts were steady in their passion, their kindness, and their unfaltering love. One year, two years, three years going on to four… And after all this time, they were still them.

So it was no surprise that Mila could accurately predict their reaction to her role in the trailer for their new comeback.

The board meeting for ‘Orange Blood’ was one that Mila looked forward to as much as she did any meeting discussing the future of the group. Though their schedules were busy with their upcoming Fate Tour, there was no denying the anticipation of releasing new songs, and the relief of knowing they were still very much in the race. (She considered herself fortunate that they weren’t one of the mistreated artists she’d often heard of, whose comebacks ranged around once a year — if at all.)

The concept was an unexpectedly bright and hopeful one compared to ‘Dark Blood’. Or perhaps, ‘nostalgic’ was the better word — yes, indeed, nostalgia was a perfect word for the concept. And all members of Enhypen were pleased with the proposed title track, B-sides (including Mila and Kiara’s subunit song, ‘Sweet Juice’), and overall aesthetic of the new album. It seemed as if it would be a carefree and fun era free of the drama of its predecessor.

Except, of course, that wasn’t exactly the case.

When the time came for the discussion of the concept trailer, the air of nostalgia surrounding ‘Orange Blood’ instead became replaced by déjà vu.

“Mila has a special part to play,” the director of the concept trailer said. “If you remember from the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer, she was the only one of you nine who survived everything.”

“Right!” Sunoo exclaimed excitedly. “It was one of the things all the Engenes kept making theories about.”

Mila smiled. Amidst all the drama of her jealousy for Sunghoon, Jay and the boys’ interactions with Park Jiwon, she didn’t give much attention to her own role as she should have. But it was still a very intriguing point in the concept trailer for all who watched it.

The director nodded. “That goes to say that means she won’t be with the rest of you for the majority of the trailer.”

A wave of surprise washed over the Enhypen members. Their eyes widened collectively, giving the impression of nine bewildered children who had just learnt Santa wasn’t real.

“And before you ask— yes, she’s still going to be in the trailer. She’ll just have different scenes from everyone else.” Mila smiled when the tension in the others’ shoulders relaxed. She knew they would be the first to jump to her defence if, for some reason, she was excluded.

“After being separated, their paths are obviously going different ways. While Mila is still unaware, you boys and Kiara will be reincarnated as humans…”

The director began to explain the first part of the trailer, which consisted of the boys being taken out of the ocean by Jiwon, followed by the next couple of scenes. Mila became sceptical at one particular scene involving Sunoo’s neck being bitten, but figured it wouldn’t be anything new — after all, Jay had his neck bitten in the trailer for ‘Dark Blood’. (She didn’t want to admit she was a little bothered by it… though she would ignore that feeling for now.)

Then it came to the part where Mila would make her appearance.

“Now, after all this, we finally see what Mila has been up to this entire time. And since she no longer has her friends with her, she is living a pretty lonely life.”

The others made noises of sympathy.

“…But then she finds a handsome young man who falls in love with her, and they live happily with each other as a seemingly loving couple—”

The sound of Kiara choking on her water echoed through the now silent room.

“What’s wrong?” The director asked cluelessly as he observed the group’s reactions. He blinked when he received no response. “Was it something I said?”

Kiara was alternating between laughing, struggling to swallow her water, and shaking her head in denial. Mila supposed it was good that at least one of them seemed amused by the situation — because the other eight of them were certainly not.

Sunghoon — who had been lost in his own daydream the whole time as he stared at a random spot on the table in front of him — suddenly snapped his head towards the director, eyebrows raised and eyes wide as if he had heard something incredibly offensive.

Sunoo’s jaw dropped in a slacked ‘oh’, while he side-eyed Mila beside him, and then slowly looked back towards the director, looking a lot like he did in his iconic reaction towards Seon in the first episode of I-Land.

Jungwon, whose eyes looked devoid of all life, said, “No… Not at all. Please — do go on.”

If his words could convince anyone that he was fine, they would have to be both blind and deaf— because anyone could hear the soulless conviction he spoke with, or the obviously forced smile on his face. 

Mila glanced at him before smiling at the director and drawing his attention to her. “So, I’m guessing my scenes will be with the actor then?”

The director cleared his throat. “Well, like I was saying — Mila, you’re looking for love to fill the gap left behind by seeing the others die, and you decide to court this young man as a way of moving on. So your scenes together will be pretty romantic.”

Mila blinked. “I see…”

That was probably the last thing the boys wanted to hear. And honestly, she didn’t feel too comfortable with the idea of acting romantically with another male, even if it was for work. It was awkward to try and replicate the chemistry of two lovers with someone that wasn’t the boys — let alone someone she hadn’t met.

Heeseung had visibly tensed, before rolling his shoulders to avoid seeming too affected. However, the way he pursed his lips and sat forward in his seat gave him away.

Jake’s eyebrows raised as he licked the inside of his cheek, fidgeting nervously by cracking his knuckles while he declined back in his chair. He didn’t take his eyes, instead staring at the sheet of paper in front of him.

Jay hadn’t said or done anything of note, but the set in his jaw and the subtle flex of his hand ok the table served as enough of a sign.

At that moment, Mila felt a hand on her knee, and looked beside her to see Riki with a carefully stoic expression. The only sign that he was bothered was the gentle squeeze he gave her.

Mila discretely reached out under the table to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

Looking for a way to comfort them, she asked, “But we won’t be overly touchy, will we? I mean — we won’t be kissing or anything.”

The director laughed, as if Mila had told him a funny joke. “Of course not! We’d never ask you to do such a thing.”

The boys took this as a good sign, and the air around them immediately became more relaxed. Mila smiled. She thought that would be the end of it until the director continued.

“You’ll just be very close to each other, instead — oh, and you might have to bite his neck.”

Mila, the boys, Kiara, and the manager who had just bought in coffee for the nine of them fell quiet. No one said a word as the director beamed innocently. They were too stunned to speak.

“I’M SURE IT WON’T BE THAT BAD.”

Mila didn’t know who she was trying to convince, but it didn’t seem like it worked on any of the boys — or herself, for that matter. As soon as they had gotten back to the dorms from the meeting, the boys were spread across the living room with silly expressions. (Kiara had, as usual, disappeared to visit the TXT dorms as soon as she could.)

“It will be just like you and Jiwon in the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer,” Mila said, “It’s all professional.”

“But you still got jealous,” Sunoo pointed out.

Mila scrunched her nose. “You really had to bring that back up…”

Heeseung laughed and pinched her cheek. “Don’t mind us, we’re just jealous that you get to act all romantic with someone else. But at the end of the day, we know it’s part of our job. We’ll be okay.”

Jake laughed. “This kinda feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

There was a silent agreement among everyone. Some things really didn’t change…

“Anyway, it doesn’t really make sense for us to mope about it when nothing has happened yet,” Jungwon claimed. “I don’t know about you, but I just wanna appreciate now first.” With that, the leader stood up and held his arms out towards Mila. “Come here.”

Mila giggled and launched herself into his arms. The younger immediately wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head, inhaling her scent. He closed his eyes and the other members chuckled around them.

“Hey, don’t forget me!” Jake said, before adding himself to the hug.

The others followed soon after, crowding around together in the middle of the living room. 

“To be honest, I think I’d rather not be there to watch you film,” Jay said quietly. The first day of Mila’s filming happened to be the last day of filming for the boys, so they would all be on set with her when she would be filming with the actor. “I don’t think I’d be able to control my emotions…”

Mila hummed. “I get it. You can’t help it. But at the end of the day, I’m always only yours.” She smiled slyly. “And if you ever feel like reminding, you can always try and sneak a kiss on set.”

“Ayyyyy,” the boys chorused. 

Sunghoon chuckled and patted the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”

“You mean ‘our’ girl, right?” Sunoo asked with a raised eyebrow. Everyone laughed, causing Sunoo to smile. With a smug expression, he said, “Well, just for the record— I’m the only one here who gets to film a scene with Mimi. And we get to hug.”

“That’s not fair!” Riki whined. “Why do you only get to film a scene with her?”

Sunoo shrugged sassily. “I guess we’re just destined to be together.”

“Then what about the rest of us?” Jay asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You tell me,” Sunoo said. “I was her first boyfriend and her first kiss, you know. You guys were just add-ons to our relationship.”

“What are you saying?!” Riki exclaimed. “I was the closest to her during I-Land. All of you tried to vote her out of I-Land in the first elimination.”

“I didn’t!” Sunghoon protested with a raised hand. “I liked her better than all of you.”

“Yeah, well, me and Mila were like—!” (Jake crossed his index and middle finger.) “—THIS!”

Heeseung crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I was her first love. So technically, I beat all of you.”

“Are you sure you want to bring THAT up, Hyung?” Jungwon asked the older male with a glint in his eyes. “You know how that went down…”

The others gasped in shock at the young leader’s bold attack. Mila laughed, watching the way Sunoo dramatically put both hands over his mouth with wide eyes.

As bickering started to ensue between the members, Mila shook her head in fond exasperation. She didn’t say anything as they made shots at each other, instead choosing to enjoy watching their bonding moment. 

There was something beautiful about these little moments they shared together. The moments that — while fleeting, and easily faded from memory — showed just how well they melded together. How much they belonged.

And she wished more than anything that they would be just as they always had. That this thing they had would never change.

Mila smiled as she rested her chin on her hand. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Later on that night, Kiara — who had been asked for lyrical input for one of the side tracks of the album — had thought to ask Mila for some ideas. She would be one of the few people who knew just how profound the younger female’s thoughts could be, even on the smallest of topics.

“What do you think about the saying, ‘Some things never change?” Kiara had asked.

“I think even though humans change, there are some things they are so connected to that they can’t do things any differently,” Mila said to her.

Ironically enough, Mila’s sentiment was the exact antithesis of the ephemerality romanticised in ‘Orange Blood’. There was no guessing what Mila could be thinking — she always managed to surprise people with her unpredictability. But it was for that reason that Kiara admired her mind so much.

“For example, you and Yeonjunnie-oppa love each other a lot, right? And whether it’s today or tomorrow, if there’s ever a time where you’re not together, you’ll still miss each other. No matter how many times you do it, it doesn’t hurt any less. And as long as you guys love each other, nothing will change, because your reactions and emotions come from the same place each and every time — in this case, your feelings for each other.”

Kiara blinked. She stared for a few seconds before she broke out of her awed state and started nodding.

“Okay… Damn.” She lowered her head as she stared at the paper in front of her, on which she had scribbled notes onto for inspiration. “I like that… I like that a lot.”

Mila beamed. “Is that enough to help you out? Or do you want some more to go off?”

Kiara looked at the younger female with a glint in her eye. Mila tilted her head in confusion, as Kiara smiled — the type one would give their student when they accomplished something significant in their studies.

“How about this?” Kiara asked. “I think you have a better grasp of this than me — so what about you write down lyrics for this that you can pitch to the PD? I don’t think I resonate with this song as much as you do, so it’s for the best. And I feel like you have a lot of good ideas for it.”

Mila furrowed her eyebrows. “But I’ve never written lyrics before… And what if he doesn’t like them?” Mila shook her head. “It would be better if you wrote them.”

Kiara kissed her teeth. “Yah. Aren’t you the one who always says to Engenes that there’s no harm in trying? If you don’t have anything, that’s fine. I’ll just hand in something. But if you do, then why not share it? I’m just saying, it’s not like you to throw away a chance before trying.”

Mila couldn’t deny the logic of Kiara’s words. She would be a hypocrite if she didn’t the didn’t do as she always said — and that wasn’t a standard she wanted to hold herself to. She nodded.

“Fine,” she said with a determined smile. “I’ll give it a try… Just don’t expect too much, okay?“

Kiara laughed. “Okay, okay.”

As she stared at the computer in front of Kiara, where the demo of the track was playing, Mila found her eyes settling on the title, letting it ingrain itself into her brain like a tattoo.

‘Still Monster’, huh?

IT WAS LATE IN THE NIGHT.

Mila found herself at the kitchen table, eating a snack as she scribbled mindlessly on the notepad in front of her. She had her AirPods in, repeatedly playing the demo of ‘Still Monster’ as she wrote whatever came to mind. It had been a day since she was given the task of writing some lyrics for ‘Still Monster’, and ideas flooded her brain like a river — the struggle, however, was finding a way to express them all.

“Noona?” Mila looked up from her notepad for the first time in the past few minutes to see Riki standing there, half-asleep as he rubbed at his eyes sleepily. “What are you doing?”

Mila smiled, internally cooing at how adorable he looked. “I’m just writing something…”

Riki tilted his head curiously. He slowly padded his way over to the table and pulled out a seat next to Mila. Mila watched as he rested his head on her shoulder, while groggily reading the contents of Mila’s notepad.

“‘Still Monster’? That’s one of our tracks, isn’t it?” Riki asked.

Mila hummed. She hadn’t told the boys about it yet because she didn’t want to disappoint them if the pitching didn’t go well, so she decided to keep it to herself until she received good feedback.

But Riki had always been someone she let her guard down with. It was one of the reasons she called him her ‘Peter Pan’: if she was Wendy, he was the one around whom she could always be carefree. As much as they bickered, as much as they fought, as long as it was him, she knew she didn’t have to fear being judged.

“I’m writing some lyrics for it.” She sighed. “But as you can see it’s not really going anywhere at the moment.”

There was a few seconds of silence, before Riki suddenly shot up in his seat. “You’re writing a song?!” he asked, his eyes wide with awe. “That’s amazing!”

Mila laughed as she brushed his hair away from his face. “Thank you… But like I said, it’s not really going anywhere at the moment. I have ideas — I just don’t know how to put them into words.”

Riki tilted his head. “Why not? You’re usually good at talking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mila narrowed her eyes playfully. “Are you saying I’m too talkative?”

Riki shook his head vigorously. “No, it’s not that… I just mean, you always know what to say.” Riki lowered his head, once again resting it on Mila’s shoulder. The strands of his hair tickled her neck, causing her to giggle when he nuzzled his cheek against her. “Remember during I-Land, when I was feeling down after I kept losing battles?”

Mila hummed and nodded. Those days weren’t ones he often reminisced on, but she knew they stuck with them even today — because how could it not? All of them, in some way, were affected by the wreck that was I-Land. Even if they didn’t show it. And for Mila and Riki — who had left everything behind to move to a foreign country where nothing was guaranteed — that trauma only increased twofold.

When the two of them were in Ground, losing chance after chance to go back into I-Land, they had finally reached their breaking point. And by the time the last test of Part One had begun to air, they had to do everything in their power to make sure they would be debuting.

“Do you remember what you said to me when I told you I didn’t think I was good enough?” Riki let out a small chuckle. His hand made its way to Mila’s, his fingers intertwining with hers like two pieces of a puzzle. “You said that people who always see ways to improve will never stop getting better. So, I was good enough — but part of me knew I was meant to be so much more.”

Mila let a smile break through. “That was such a long time ago… You still remember that?”

Riki nodded. “Of course,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I was so close to giving up, but as soon as you said that I realised I didn’t want to stop there.” He sighed as he breathed in Mila’s comforting scent. “You always said the right thing to make me feel better when I was sad… It didn’t matter if your Korean was still kinda bad—”

“Yah!” Mila let out a strangled laugh in her surprise, slapping Riki’s shoulder indignantly.

Riki laughed, before catching Mila’s hand in his own and placing a soft kiss on the back of it as an apology. “I’m just saying — it’s the message that I remember the most, not the words.”

Mila blinked. “That… actually makes a lot of sense.” She looked down at Riki with feigned shock. “When did you become so smart?”

Riki scoffed. “You didn’t even know how to order anything other than jjajangmyeon from restaurants until I taught you — and you’ve been living in Korea for longer than I have.”

Mila gasped. But before Mila could say anything, Riki looked up at her through his lashes. His eyes were like pools of pure water, containing nothing but clear international and sincerity. Mila faltered, watching the way his eyes held hers, the space between them both too far and too close for her heart to handle.

“Just write whatever comes to you. If it’s from you, there’s no way it won’t be beautiful.”

Mila smiled. And without another second wasted, she pressed her lips to his.

That night, the lyrics came as effortlessly to her as breathing. And at the centre of it all was them — the ones who, like the stars in the night sky, brought the light into her otherwise pitch black night.

“These lyrics are really good!” The producer praised as he looked over the final draft that Mila presented to them. “We’ll change some of it to fit the vampire concept — but otherwise it’s perfect.” The producer smiled. “I didn’t know you were this good at writing lyrics.”

Mila smiled. “Thank you… But I had help.”

I owe Riki some bunggeoppang.

The producer shook his head with a chuckle. “Regardless, this is a very good result. If you keep up the good work, you could even be doing songwriting on the side. Good work.”

Mila smiled sheepishly at the praise. 

“We’ll make sure to add your name to the credits. After some tweaking, it should be ready for the boys to record the vocals.”

Mila nodded. Since it was a subunit song for the boys — the same way Mila and Kiara had their own subunit — she unfortunately wouldn’t be able to be able to sing it herself. But somehow, Mila didn’t mind it so much. After all, there was something about the boys singing a song that she wrote for them that made her feel giddy inside. The fact that she also asked Riki to keep quiet (in case the feedback wasn’t good) also meant it would be a surprise to them.

She hummed as she left the producer’s office, looking like a giddy high school girl as she walked through the halls, greeting staff with a smile.

Mila couldn’t wait to see the boys’ reaction when they found out. Maybe she would even play a little prank on them, and wait until after everything to reveal the secret…

Mila giggled mischeviously. She was just full of good ideas, wasn’t she?

THE FIRST DAY OF MILA’S FILMING FINALLY CAME, and it couldn’t have been any sooner. The past few days, she had to watch the boys leave without her to go filming, and she had become the personification of a drowned puppy as a result.

Enhypen had already finished recording the singles for the album and the choreography, so the next step was to film the concept trailer. Since she was the only one who didn’t have a role in the first few days of filming, she would stay behind for them — something which she obviously didn’t take well to. The whole time while the boys were preparing to leave, she would follow them around the house with a cloud of gloom hovering over her head.

“Has anyone seen my charger?” Jay asked, while searching through his things.

Mila pouted from behind him and raised a finger to point to the door. “It’s in the living room, on the coffee table.”

“Ah— thanks, Angel.” Jay patted her on the head and left the room to find his charger. Mila sighed and trailed behind him, tugging on the ends of her (or rather, Sunghoon’s) shirt. When Jay found his charger, he packed it in his bag and put his hands on his hips. “Okay, that’s all for me. I’m done now.”

“Same here!” Jake replied as he slung his bag over his shoulder and placed a cap on his head.

Mila continued to sulk silently as the boys announced their readiness one by one. And when they got ready to leave the dorm, she stood at the door, giving each of them a hug before they walked out.

“See you later,” she said sadly as she wrapped her arms around Sunoo’s waist. “Love you…”

Sunoo laughed as he returned her hug, the sound like chiming bells with its gentle tone. He gently stroked the back of her head while pressing his lips to her forehead. And with a caress of her cheek, he pulled away while smiling, eyes dripping with honey.

“Love you too, Byeol-ah. Don’t miss us too much, okay? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“That’s right.” Jungwon latched onto Mila’s waist in a side hug. He rested his cheek against her shoulder and closed his eyes as Mila reached up to pay his head. “We’ll bring snacks with us.”

Mila nodded weakly, sparing a small smile. “Okay…”

Heeseung pressed a firm kiss against her cheek, making a slight smacking noise as he parted. “Love you saurrrr much.”

With that, Mila burst out into laughter.

The other boys gave her sweet goodbye kisses as they walked out the door, before eventually Mila was left alone. And the only thing she could say was sigh and trudge her way to her bed, where she would lie down scrolling through social media to see Engenes’ reactions to her new red hair.

And that process continued until today, the final day of the boys’ and Kiara’s filming, before Mila would film her parts, along with her scene with Sunoo. Since they were relatively simple scenes, they would be able to finish in one day. (According to the director, that was.)

They look like they’re having fun…

Mila smiled as she watched Kiara and the boys running through the field of flowers. Since all the scenes with Sooha were already shot, Park Jiwon wasn’t on the set today, so Mila didn’t get the chance to greet her.

Mila wouldn’t admit that she still thought a lot about the potential bite scene between Jiwon and Sunoo after reading over the script so many times. But in the end, the girl had proven to be very hardworking and talented. It was hard not to like her.

That’s too bad, Mila thought. Maybe next time.

With that Mila smiled and continued to get ready with the help of her staff.

Mila had just finished changing into her dress — a long, white number with spaghetti straps — when she ran into the assistant director, who was standing with someone she had never met before. He was tall and handsome, as well as rather young (he didn’t look much older than herself), and was standing before a makeup artist who seemed to be placing finishing touches on his face.

Mila immediately connected the dots and realised that he was, in fact, the actor she would be partnered with for the trailer.

“Ah, Mila!” The assistant director smiled when he took note of Mila standing there. Mila bowed as he ushered her to come closer. “Just the girl I was looking for! Come here for a second!”

Mila hiked up her skirt and made her way over. By now, the actor finished having his makeup done and made eye contact with Mila when he turned around. The two subconsciously bowed their heads in greeting, while the assistant director smiled and nodded in approval.

“You wanted to see me?” Mila asked.

The assistant said, “That’s right. I wanted to introduce you.” He gestured to the younger man beside him. “This is Park Hajoon, he’s been a model and actor under Hybe for the past two years. He’ll be your partner for today. Hajoon, you know Mila already. Greet your senior.”

Hajoon bowed to show respect before smiling widely. “Nice to meet you, Sunbaenim. I’ve been a big fan of yours since I-Land. I’m looking forward to today.”

Mila flashed a friendly smile. “Oh, really? Nice to meet you too; I’m lucky to have such a dedicated fan. Let’s work hard together, okay?”

Hajoon beamed enthusiastically, his eyes lit up in clear admiration. Mila lowered her head, avoiding looking into his eyes. She couldn’t help but feel bashful — every time she met a fan who looked at her with the same respect that Hajoon did, she never really knew how to react.

The assistant director chuckled and pat the younger male on the shoulder. “Well, since you’re familiar now, why don’t you two start discussing your scene together while the others wrap up their final scene?”

Mila nodded. “Okay, sounds good to me.” She turned to Hajoon with a smile and gestured to the tent not far away. “Shall we?”

“Yes, Sunbaenim!” he responded passionately.

Mila laughed. If he kept up the energy for the entirety of the shoot, he would be able to rival Mila for the title of the set moodmaker. And she couldn’t have that, could she?

“Let’s go!” Mila exclaimed equally as enthusiastically.

With that, the two laughed and walked away. They arrived at the tent, where the staff had already set chairs out for Mila and the rest of the group to rest in when the others were done with their shoot. But Mila and Hajoon would be leaving as soon as they were finished to head towards a cottage not far from where they currently had their equipment set up.

“How much experience do you have with acting?” Mila asked as she read through the script.

“I’ve had small roles in web dramas before,” he replied.

Mila ‘ooh’ed. “That’s impressive.” Hajoon lowered his head and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “In that case, we should be done in under three takes, right?”

Mila said it as a joke. She definitely wasn’t expecting Hajoon to suddenly get all fired up, eyes burning with determination as he held up a fist. “Respectfully, Sunbaenim — but I believe we can do it one!”

Mila’s eyes widened. He really was a bold one, wasn’t he? But that wasn’t a bad thing — not at all. She admired that sort of confidence more than anything. So, at that moment she knew she had gotten lucky with her partner.

“I like it! Okay, let’s aim for one take then!” she said with a smile. Mila then put the script on the table between them and pointed to an outlined scene, where Hajoon would be standing over Mila as she awoke from a nightmare. “For this scene here, I was thinking….”

And just like that, the two became absorbed in their work.

“IS THAT THE GUY?”

The remaining members of Enhypen had just finished filming their final scene together for the trailer and were heading back to the tent while the staff prepared the equipment for moving. They had originally been in high springs, considering they finally finished — but some certain members were immediately cast into a bitter mood as they spotted Mila waiting for them under the tent with an unfamiliar male.

The two of them were peering over paper together, their heads almost touching as they conversed with each other, unaware of the eyes on them.

Sunghoon was the first to propose who the unknown male was. Immediately, the others followed with dejected realisation that he was in fact the man who would be filming very romantic scenes with their girlfriend.

Jungwon pouted as he continued to walk towards them. “Come on,” he said to the others. “We should greet him.”

Regardless of their own feelings, the man hadn’t done anything wrong, so there was no reason to host any animosity toward him. Not to mention, when the positions were switched during the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer, Mila was also expected to be polite with Jiwon, even knowing that the latter would be biting Jay’s neck and very nearly sharing a kiss with Sunghoon.

“Now I know why Mila was so bitter about the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer,” Jake said as he watched Mila and her partner look at each other.

The latter lifted a hand as if to brush a strand of hair out of his face. Logically, Jake already knew it was to practise a scene in the script. But it still irked him nonetheless when he watched the unnamed actor tenderly stroke Mila’s hair, the way he often did.

Jay clenched his jaw. “He’s barely done anything, and I already feel defensive.”

“Why don’t you guys smile a little?” Kiara said with an amused smile. “You can’t scare the poor boy away.”

“Why not?” Heeseung immediately replied. With his doe eyes, one would think he was genuinely asking — though his co-members knew better.

Kiara rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You guys…”

At that moment, as if sensing them approaching, Mila looked up from the script she was sharing with her partner. The boys could practically picture bunny ears standing to attention on the top of her head. Her eyes brightened in recognition and a wide smile crossed her face as she waved enthusiastically.

The boys immediately fixed smiles on their faces, not wanting to worry Mila with their feelings when she was preparing for work. They joined both her and her partner under the tent, causing them both to stand to their feet.

“Congrats on finishing!” Mila applauded the boys with genuine pride. “I was watching you before — you did good. I think the shots will come out nicely.”

The boys become visibly lightened at the praise. 

Heeseung reached out and patted Mila’s head, smiling softly at her. “Thank you,” he cooed, eyes full of adoration as Mila giggled under his touch.

The mood completely broke when Sunoo looked at the male beside Mila and said, “I don’t think we’ve met properly.”

Taking the cue, the male actor bowed formally towards the members with a smile. As soon as he straightened his back, he introduced himself confidently. “My name is Park Hajoon. I’m a model and actor under Hybe. It’s nice to meet you all.”

Jungwon was the first to greet him back. “Nice to meet you.”

The other followed suit, leaving Mila to smile brightly on the side. So far, she would say they were doing very well in putting aside their personal feelings — it looked like they didn’t have to worry about much at all. She cleared her throat as she gestured to the script.

“We were just practising for our scene together,” she announced. “Hajoon here thinks we can get it done in one take.”

“That’s good,” Sunghoon immediately responded. By his logic, one take meant that they would be done as soon as possible, meaning that he, Mila, and the other members would be free to go back to the dorms sooner. Hopefully he would be able to steal Mila for some cuddles before the others got to her…

“How’s it going so far?” Jay asked. “Anything you’re struggling with?”

Instead of Mila, Hajoon was the one who replied.

“Not at all,” he said happily. “Mila-sunbaenim is really good at acting, so we already have a good idea of what we’re supposed to be doing.” Hajoon held a thumbs up as he smiled at Mila. “She’s really awesome.”

Sunoo eyed Hajoon suspiciously. He could pinpoint admiration when he saw it, and from the way this Hajoon person looked at Mila, the youngest knew for a fact that he held a lot of it for Mila — and dare he say, perhaps a little more than that…

Mila noticed this and explained, “Hajoon here has been a fan of mine since I-Land. Isn’t that great?”

“Ah, really?” Kiara asked with wide eyes. “Wah, how cute! You must be really happy to be working beside someone you’ve been a fan of for so long, right?” Kiara’s eyes had a hint of sly calculation when Hajoon nodded enthusiastically. She then asked, “What do you think? Is she prettier in person?”

Jake and Jay, who were standing next to Kiara, immediately threw a glare towards the older female, who grinned smugly. The others had their attention pointed towards the male in question, who had suddenly turned redder than a tomato under the sudden scrutiny of everyone.

Mila’s eyes widened as Hajoon dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Eung… She’s really beautiful.”

Kiara laughed light-heartedly and patted the flustered Hajoon on the shoulder. “Well, you’re lucky to be able to act as her boyfriend for one day. Make sure to cherish it while it lasts.”

“Ah— o-okay,” Hajoon stuttered out, turning even redder than before. And this of course, did not go unnoticed.

Kiara hummed, pleased by his reaction. With that, the elder female sauntered off towards her seat, escaping the inevitable fallout that would follow her controversial statement. As soon as she was gone, Hajoon found himself under the scrutiny of seven males who eyed him as if they were predators and he was a rival who appeared randomly in the wilderness.

He supposed he expected this. After all, having followed Mila’s journey for so long, he also got to know her members fairly well. And anyone who knew Enhypen knew that to get to the Princess, they would have to get past her seven knights first.

“So…” Heeseung crossed his arms over his chest. “You must be really happy that you get to act as Mila’s lover, right?”

Before Hajoon could reply, Mila rolled her eyes and gently tugged in Heeseung’s arms to uncross them. “Oppa, stop. You’re intimidating him. People might think you’re having a power-trip over your juniors!”

For good measure, Mila added a pout and used her eyes to plead at him. And just like always, Heeseung’s resolve immediately faltered.

“Okay, okay…” Heeseung turned to Hajoon. The latter immediately noticed that the light in Heeseung’s eyes from when he was looking upon Mila immediately flickered out as soon as they landed on him. Nonetheless, the elder offered a civil smile. “Sorry about that. I’m not trying to scare you.”

“That’s right.” Jungwon immediately followed up the elder’s statement with his own excuses. “The older members just worry a lot — don’t mind them.”

Despite the reassuring words he spoke, the smile on his face didn’t quite reach them.

Hajoon nodded and cleared his throat. “No, it’s okay! I already know that you’re quite protective — but don’t worry, I don’t plan on taking advantage of my role in the trailer today to satisfy my own selfishness. I admire Mila-sunbaenim a lot, but I respect her enough to maintain a professional boundary. I’m here to do my job and nothing more.”

Jay would be the first to admit he was pretty impressed with the actor’s initiative. He was sceptical at first of his obvious infatuation with Mila (call it a man’s intuition), but he did feel a little better seeing his conviction.

The rest of the boys — though some more begrudging than the others — would agree: Even if they were still very much jealous, they could tell the actor was sincere and had a pure soul. There was no reason to dislike him. They slowly started to lose some tension in their bodies.

“Okay, now that we got that cleared up, do you mind giving me and Hajoon some peace and quiet?”

Mila crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow, challenging the boys to keep them any longer from doing their job. The boys, being wise, immediately heeded the silent warning in her voice, which was perhaps the most polite form of ‘Play nice’ that they would get from her if they didn’t act right away.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Mila sighed as the boys scurried away. Shaking her head, she immediately gestured for Hajoon to take a seat. “Sorry about them, they can be a bit much.”

Hajoon shook his head. “No, it’s fine. If anything, I find it sweet that they openly show how much they care about you.”

Mila failed to hold back a smile as she replayed the boys’ reactions to Hajoon’s admiration for her. Even if she didn’t admit it, she did feel a bit giddy seeing them act so protective of her — even if she had to scold them a bit for being too intimidating.

“You know — you’re not wrong there…”

NOT TO BE OVERLY DRAMATIC, but Jungwon felt as if he was kicked in the stomach.

The staff had moved all the equipment to the cottage set for Mila and Hajoon’s scene together, with the cameramen and director being inside to film while the other Enhypen members and staff remained camped outside with monitoring screens. The scene between Mila and Hajoon was only a couple of seconds long, and so wasn’t prolonged agony by any means — but it didn’t make it any less painful to watch.

Jay, Jake and Sunghoon were smart enough not to watch it at all — however the others found themselves huddled around the monitoring screen, eyes fixated on the scene playing out before them.

Jungwon pouted as Hajoon caressed Mila’s face tenderly, the same way he would when they were in the privacy of their homes. (It was at times like this when he wished they didn’t have to hide their relationship from the public eye — so that he could unapologetically show off just how much he loved her.) Mila looked up at Hajoon with glassy eyes, letting him wipe freshly fallen tears from her face with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

At that moment, Heeseung wordlessly turned around and left, leaving the three youngest members alone in front of the scene. Jungwon bit his lip as Hajoon leaned down, his face impossibly close to Mila’s. Riki scoffed, before turning away and following after the eldest of the group. And just like that, only Sunoo and Jungwon remained.

Hajoon’s eyes flickered down to Mila’s lips. Almost reflexively, Jungwon’s hand clenched into a fist. He didn’t even know why he was still standing there — and yet he couldn’t look away, either, even as Mila’s lips slowly drifted towards the crook of Hajoon’s neck.

“CUT!”

The sound of the director’s voice couldn’t have been anything but intervention from the universe — otherwise how could he have known to stop the scene as soon as Jungwon had reached his limit?

“They have pretty good chemistry…”

Jungwon turned to Sunoo in confusion. When he did, he was surprised to see the expression on his face — nothing like the ray of sunshine that fans knew him to be, but one that resembled the sly fox hidden beneath his sweet smiles. Sharp eyes, and a cool expression, complete with a sharp twist of his lips.

Jungwon blinked, but didn’t get to say anything as Sunoo walked away. This hyung…

Jungwon shook his head and turned to the cottage, where he could just make out Mila and Hajoon bowing to the staff through the window. He immediately ran towards the currently empty gazebo, awaiting the moment when Mila would walk out. And as soon as she appeared, he threw himself onto her, pulling her into a hidden corner from prying eyes and clinging onto her like she would disappear if he didn’t.

“Oh— Wonie?” Mila laughed as soon as she realised who had unexpectedly jumped on her, a fond smile breaking out onto her face as she reciprocated the younger male’s hug. “What’s this all of a sudden?”

Jungwon didn’t respond, instead opting to bury his face deeper into her hair. He was too embarrassed to admit he was feeling this jealous over something meaningless, so he could only stay silent and hope Mila didn’t think of him as too clingy when he did.

Mila hummed. “Are you feeling jealous, by any chance?”

Jungwon felt his face heat up at being caught so quickly. But then again, Mila had always been the perceptive type. He gave a nod, causing Mila to giggle softly. Her fingers made their way to the top of Jungwon’s head, threading their way through his soft hair and filling Jungwon’s being with comfort.

“It’s okay to feel that way, Wonie,” she said gently. “When it’s just the two of us, you don’t have to be pressured to feel like a leader, remember? You don’t need to hide how you feel.”

“I know that, but…” Jungwon’s hands travelled down Mila’s sides before they settled around her waist. Jungwon frowned as he pulled away, before eating his forehead against Mila. “Can I have a kiss, please?”

Mila’s eyes widened. “A kiss?”

Jungwon hummed. “You said if I needed reminding that you were still mine, I could steal kisses from you on set… There’s no one here — so it should be fine, right?”

Mila blinked. “It’s fine…”

“Then kiss me,” Jungwon whispered, his eyes glassy and vulnerable as they stared into hers. Mila swallowed nervously as they travelled downwards, landing on her parted lips. Jungwon’s hands tightened their grip on her, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. “I think I’ll go crazy if you don’t…” 

Mila didn’t have to be told twice. As if possessed by his command, she pulled him down by the neck, so that his lips would find hers. The moment they met was like the collision of stars, forming something far brighter, far hotter than what they were on their own, consuming all others around them until there was nothing but the two of them left.

Milan’s hands wandered to Jungwon’s shoulders, smoothing down the length of them with trembling touch. She let out a stuttering breath when his lips parted from hers, taking in a gulp of fresh air — only to come crashing back towards hers once more. This time, more fiercely than before. His hands tightened their grip on their waist for a final time, before he parted for the final time, painting softly for air.

Jungwon let the final tendrils of the flame within him simmer down so that only ashes of his bitterness remained, completely doused by the sweetness of Mila’s mouth. Her face was flushed as she gazed up at him, eyes glazed over, as if lost in a trance — and Jungwon didn’t know if that was her own feelings, or if he was just looking at the reflection of his own eyes. For even if he couldn’t see his own face at that moment, he knew he had fallen far deeper than she had.

“‘How dare you, baby? My heart craves you…” Mila’s eyes widened as Jungwon began to softly sing all-too familiar words, his smooth and sultry voice sending a rush of electricity through her veins. “Even though I’m still a monster…”

“That’s…”

Jungwon chuckled softly. “It’s from one of our songs. ‘Still Monster.’ I don’t know why I thought of it all of a sudden… For some reason it just reminded me of you.”

Mila’s inhaled sharply, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. “Sing more for me,” she whispered. “What else about it reminds you of me?”

Jungwon began to smirk, an all-too familiar glint in the depths of his Cheshire eyes. His hand wonders down the beck of her neck, fingers brushing gently against her pulse. And with a voice all too alluring, he began to sing.

“‘The purity of her neck makes me crazy,’” he began, “‘Throws me into a desire I cannot cope with…”

Just like that, Mila’s lips collided with his once more.

IT WAS TIME FOR MILA AND SUNOO TO FILM THE FINAL SCENE OF THE CONCEPT TRAILER. The moment which Sunoo had been anxiously anticipating — and admittedly, so was Mila.

She hadn’t gotten to see the others after her small rendezvous with Jungwon, and had to go straight into filming again before the sun went down. By now, she had finished filming the opening part of their scene, where Mila was running towards the remains of the burning house, and was now standing there, awaiting the next scene — where Mila would sense Sunoo standing behind her and run up to him to hug him.

As the two waited for the camera crew to get ready for filming, they stood side by side, chatting carefreely.

“You did a good job filming with Hajoon earlier,” Sunoo suddenly said, with a petty undertone in his voice. “It was reallyyyyy believable.”

Mila scoffed. “Yah, are you being petty right now?”

Sunoo raised his eyebrows. “No. Why would I? It’s not like I had to watch you act so lovingly with some other man and make it look so real. I have no reason to be petty.”

Mila huffed and turned her head away, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. “I’m not the one who had some woman’s lips on my neck,” she muttered.

She didn’t want to think about it too much, but she knew that the scene between Jiwon and Sunoo would likely bother her when she eventually watched it. But she already had a dash of bitterness about it after hearing Kiara’s account of the scene, which supposedly was very intense. So Mila figured why not get the pettiness out of her before then. After all, Sunoo was the one who started it.

“What was that?” Sunoo asked.

“Nothing,” Mila replied.

Before anyone could say anything, the director suddenly called for everyone to get into positions. Mila turned away and walked to her starting position, leaving Sunoo to narrow his eyes at her from behind.

He had heard exactly what Mila had said — he just didn’t know it was that big of a deal for her. After all, it was nowhere near the level of what Jay and Sunghoon had with Jiwon in the previous concept trailer. But then again, Mila had always been somewhat possessive in her own way — even if she didn’t admit it.

Sunoo let out a small chuckle as he watched her stamp her way to her spot. Even if she was acting a little bratty, he still found her cute. And what sort of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t comfort her?

Better yet: What sort of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t upstage the performance between Mila and Hajoon with his own? After all, he couldn’t have anyone thinking a random male was a better fit for Mila than him, could he? His pride as a man wouldn’t let that happen. He formulated his own plan in his head and gave himself a satisfied smile when he decided what to do. 

Not long after, the director finally signalled for the filming to begin.

Mila turned around to face Sunoo and had a shocked expression on her face. Sunoo internally admired her acting as her shock morphed into unadulterated joy, a wide smile breaking out on her face as he held out a bouquet of flowers. The familiar chime of Mila’s laughter flooded Sunoo’s ears as she ran towards him, before throwing herself into his arms.

The next part came as naturally as it could have. One could say, Mila and Sunoo didn’t need a script for it. Sunoo lowered his head to bury his nose into her hair. His hand with the bouquet wrapped around her waist while the other found its way to the back of her head.

That was supposed to be it. But of course, it wasn’t. Sunoo’s lips brushed against the shell of Mila’s ear, causing the girl’s figure to freeze in his arms.

Wait, Mila thought. This isn’t part of the script.

Mila stood there frozen as she felt Sunoo’s lips travel down to her earlobe, and then further until it found itself on the bare skin of Mila’s neck. She felt her breath hitch in her throat as his plush lips sneakily found the most sensitive part of her neck — a spot he was very familiar with. Her pulse quickened, and her face started to feel when she suddenly felt his lips part, as if ready to kiss the spot then and there. 

The other members, who were watching from the monitor screen a distance away, were immediately taken aback when Sunoo looked at the camera with a sharp glare. He looked like a fox warning anyone who came close to stay away from both him and the woman in his arms — challenging and possessive.

The staff could only watch in awe at the electricity in the air. The tension between the two young people whose seemingly unidentified embrace became something more possessive — more carnal. And at that moment they accepted that, as expected, the chemistry between members of the same group was unmatched…

“AAAAND CUT!” The director yelled.

Mila barely heard his voice, or the following praises that he yelled at Mila and Sunoo, claiming that they were ‘perfect’ together. Instead, she could only shakily part from the hug between her and Sunoo, before searching his face for some sign of what had happened.

She didn’t know what she expected. But it wasn’t for Sunoo to unshaded as she smirked casually at her.

“Still jealous of Jiwon?” he asked teasingly.

Mila swallowed and shook her head. Every time she saw Sunoo like this — so assertive and, dare she say, masculine — she was never able to form words. Just his presence alone made her speechless. “N-no…”

After all, Jiwon wasn’t the woman who felt Sunoo’s lips on her neck in front of so many spectators. She would be foolish to still hold any jealousy towards 

the female after that bold display on Sunoo’s end.

“Man, this is so not fair!” Jake complained as he watched the pair stare into each other’s eyes, unplaced by the amount of people around them.

“I want to film a scene with Mila,” Sunghoon said sulkily.

“Next time we choose a concept we should ask about the concept trailers first,” Riki added. “Why does only Sunoo-hyung get to film with her?”

“YAH!” Jay yelled. His voice was loud enough that it carried to where Sunoo and Mila were standing together, causing them to break apart in surprise. “The shoot is over — stop hugging each other already!”

Sunoo and Mila shared a look. Their laughter was so loud the others could hear it perfectly, despite the distance between them.

THAT NIGHT, the members of Enhypen congratulated themselves on a job well done.

They still had a few more things to do for their comeback, but at the very least, they had made it through the concept trailer… Even if it was just barely. They (minus Kiara) had gathered in the living room to both enjoy each other’s company and to rid themselves of the bitterness from today’s shoot. Namely, their jealousy towards Mila and Hajoon’s scenes together.

“I’m so glad that’s over with,” Jake said. “I don’t ever want to see that kind of thing again. Never again, man.”

Mila laughed. “It wasn’t THAT bad.”

“‘Wasn’t THAT bad?’” Sunghoon raised his eyebrows. “The two of you looked like you would have kissed if the director didn’t say ‘cut’.”

Mila tilted her head. “I thought you didn’t watch me while filming?”

“He wasn’t,” Heeseung replied. “But later on, he asked the cameraman if he could watch the scene again, because he wanted to see how bad it was. His logic was that if he didn’t see it in real time, he could control his emotions better — but he still got jealous.”

“You’re one to talk, hyung.” Sunoo crossed his legs on the couch. “You’re the one who scared Hajoon the most.”

The other boys immediately nodded in agreement, convicting the eldest member for his actions.

“But you know… I was kind of embarrassed today,” Jay admitted. “Even though I know it doesn’t mean anything, I still get jealous over it.” Jay sighed. “I wish I had better control over my feelings… Then things would be easier for all of us.”

 A thick silence fell over the eight of them. None of them knew what to say, but it was clear that Jay wasn’t alone in his feelings. If Mila was honest, she herself had thought similar things before. And it was because of that she was able to find the words to comfort him.

“Me too,” she said. All eyes turned to her. “We’re only human, so it’s natural that we can’t control how we feel…” She smiled. “That’s why I wrote those lyrics.”

The boys became puzzled. Only Riki — who was there with her though the whole process — knew what she was talking about and smiled conspiratorially. He had been wondering when she was going to tell the others about her contribution. It seemed that she was saving it for this moment.

In truth, Mila had a feeling the boys would react this way. That they would struggle to come to terms with the fact that, for some reason, they were reliving the same memories over and over again. And so, she thought that perhaps this would give them comfort in some way.

“‘It’s as if nothing happened, you look at me with shadowless eyes…’” The boys’ (with the exception of Riki) eyes widened as Mila sang the opening lyrics to ‘Still Monster’. Realisation slowly sank in as she continued to sing, “‘I’m the one who’s been forgive countless times, but I’m still a monster…””

Mila laughed at the shocked expressions on their faces. She shared a smile with Riki before ending her serenade there.

“Obviously the lyrics are a bit more dramatic to suit the concept… but the meaning is practically the same,” she said.

“You wrote that?” Jake asked in awe. “For us?”

“Angel, why didn’t you say anything?” Jay added with a wide smile, amazement and pride all to clear on his features. “That’s amazing!”

Mila smiled sheepishly as the boys began to shower her with praises.

“I didn’t know you could write lyrics… Good job,” Sunghoon said as he patted Mila’s hair. “I’m proud of you.”

Heeseung smiled. “We all are.” He then hummed as he remembers the lyrics to the song, now seeing each line in a new light. “So that’s what they meant… If I knew it then, I probably would have given a better performance.”

Mila laughed. “I doubt you could have done better than you already did. But anyway— those lyrics were basically my feelings about you guys… I mess up a lot, and sometimes I let my emotions get the better of me. But each time you help me become better. And by the end of it, I know that you’re the only ones I’d want to be with.”

“‘What is love to me? Teaching love…’”

Sunoo began part of the chorus, immediately followed by the others who joined in.

“‘In the end, the answer is always, only you.’”

Mila laughed as realisation spread over their faces. “So? What do you think?” she asked. “Do you know what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Awwww, Baby…” Jake sprung into Mila and pulled her into his chest, smothering her with love. “I’m not jealous anymore! I’m just really happy…”

Heeseung giggled like a giddy lovesick teenager. “I’ve never had someone write a song about me.”

“Me too!” Sunoo was beaming so widely, his eyes became descents.

“You did so good, Angel,” Jay praised. “You always know what to say, don’t you?” 

Riki gave Mila a smug look that said, ‘Told you so.’ Mila laughed and shook her head, causing both Riki and Jungwon (who was next to him) to smile at her with all the fondness and adoration that a man could afford their lover.

Sunghoon, who was still in awe, was zoned out, staring blankly at a distant spot in the wall. After a few seconds, Jay lightly nudged his shoulder, completely breaking his trance.

“Yah, are you still there?” Jay asked.

“Huh?” Sunghoon shook his head. “Uh, yeah… I’m just still in shock. It’s hard to believe you wrote it for us… I’m touched. I think I might cry.”

Everyone laughed. Jay roughly pat Sunghoon on the back, and the previous tension in the air became infinitely lightened. After the revelation of Mila’s hidden talents, the boys — curious about hr work — continued to barrage her with questions, while simultaneously praising her to the heavens and back.

But one question in particular had Mila incapable of responding coherently.

“Wait a minute…” Jungwon tilted his head. “Does that mean you also wrote that line?”

Mila hummed. “Which one?”

Jungwon smirked. “You know… The one I sang to you before: ‘The purity of your neck—’”

“Ah!” Mila suddenly shot in from her seat was standing completely still as seven curious eyes turned to her. “No— you see— the thing is… they had to adjust the lyrics a bit to fit the vampire concept! So they… Well… Uh…”

“Ayyyyy,” Sunghoon teased. “Don’t tell me…”

“Wait so you have a thing for our necks?” Jake asked with a tilted head.

“NO!” Mila shouted.

Sunoo raised his eyebrow. “But then what about the lyrics, then?”

“You know, now that I think about it…” Jay pretended to be in deep thought, stroking his chin like a sage would his beard. “She does seem to like neck kisses a lot—“

Mila’s face almost exploded from how hot it was. “SHUT UP AND LET ME EXPLAIN!”

The room was filled with laughter as the busy observed Mila’s flustered state. And really — what else did she expect from them? Of course they had to tease her right after giving her so many compliments….

Indeed, some things never changed.

TAGLiST !

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DiA READERS

ahhh it’s so good to be back 😭 sorry for the wait guys but finally a full length chapter for you guys after my very long break🤭 (a very long chapter too— almost 10k wowza 🤯) i figured that we had so many hyung like focused fics that the maknae line should have time to shine - which is why this one focused a lot on their interactions with mila 😌 the ending was a bit meh bc i ran out of brain juice so sorry about that — but hopefully you enjoyed it nonetheless!! 🫶🫶🫶

but thank you guys for all your patience though the break and for being sl understanding! love you guys sm you’re the best readers na author could ask for and my break just made me appreciate you all the more MWAH MWAH MWAH 🩷🩷🩷

P.S. obv mila didn’t actually write still monster and credit goes to the actually writer, but let’s pretend 😆 also! for the anonnie who made this request for manly sunoo - hope this satisfied the requirements! 🫶

━━━━ GUILTY ; PART ONE

pairing : sunghoon x afab!reader

warnings : mentions of smoking and sex, drugs (weed), alcohol

word count : 4.3k

genre : angst, smut (mdni)

synopsis : you have to suffer with the tragedy of having excruciatingly drunk friends and sunghoon has to suffer the tragedy of having his girlfriend break his heart.

guilty masterlist

tag list : @deobitifull @haelahoops @sunasbl6nts @zerasari @imhyunjins-wifeofc @gucci-95 @ak4e7a @fakeuwus @denleave1088 @kyanmeai @kgneptun @baekxo07 @adeoluhh @heesvers @eneiyri @anikijay @hansoojinx @sunwonkiworld @seokseokjinkim @hotsforikeu @shotarowo @enhypenlovre

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“He broke up with me!”

“He broke up with me!”

“I broke up with him!”

Those were the words Yoo Jimin had told her best friend Kim Minjeong, and through the power of gossip (and most certainly by Choi Beomgyu’s obnoxiously loud voice), the entirety of your campus were now incredibly invested in the dramatics of the beloved star couple Yoo Jimin and Park Sunghoon, who’d been dating since the start of the new term, and in retrospect, you all should’ve predicted the outcome of the pair breaking up, but never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined Yoo Jimin to be the one to do so. Not when they strutted around campus, Sunghoon’s arm wrapped around her shoulder with their fingers interlocked, and not when they were often seen making out in parties and barely even intoxicated as they did so. Cupid struck their hearts with his infectious arrow, and Jimin’s had fallen out before Sunghoon’s had even begun to feel even the slightest bit lighter.

“They looked so cute together! I thought in ten years, we’ll have little Sunghoons and Jimins running around,” Yunjin slurred out, slamming down her bottle of soju, heavily intoxicated at this point of the night, and you pinched your nose, already imagining how much of a hassle it would be to drive her home. Yunjin had never been the strongest soldier to alcohol, always splayed out over the seats in your car as you drove her home after a particularly energetic party. “But girl, look on the bright side!” your other friend Giselle drunkenly pointed her finger at you as she leaned her head on the table, “all you now need to do is scoop up your heartbroken man and he’ll thank you for accepting his hand in marriage.” Marriage? Now was the point you were sure they’d drunk too much for their brain to even properly function. Giselle was better than Yunjin when it came to drinking, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have her moments where she was completely drunk to the point you feared she’d fall asleep then and there. Chaewon shook her head frantically, downing the remnants of her drink. “No man, we first have to get them to date before marriage!” Chaewon protested, and you sniffed, fighting the urge to laugh at the conversation dictating yours and Sunghoon’s relationship. In your group dynamics, Chaewon was the more maternal figure of the group, usually being the one who cooked and made plans for you all to hang out (even though you all lived in the same dorm), and was the one who comforted each of you after a heartbreaking breakup that left you all eating chocolates while watching Legally blonde for the umpteenth time.

Since you’d all resorted to befriending one another after sharing a dorm together for three days, weekly get-togethers at the bar every Friday had been pencilled in and underline 4 times on your schedules, and you’d all joked that it was to keep your sanity in check, the workload for university being too difficult for you to handle in a continuous sitting like you all had the tendency to do. Each week, someone would have to be the designated driver to ensure everyone gets home safely, and of course this week, it just had to be you and you weren’t drunk enough yet to handle a conversation about your long time crush Park Sunghoon, who drove you to madness. Your small friend group were all aware about this crush and the history that accompanied it, and often, they’d ridicule you for it, but if you were being honest, you knew your petty crush would never work out every new year’s resolution for you had been to find a new lover to love and to forget about Sunghoon who’d done nothing for you. Not when Sunghoon had embarrassed you in front of everyone that one fateful day in 6th grade where he’d tricked you into admitting your crush on him after he overheard you fawning over him to another girl in your class, and as it slipped out that you were infatuated with him, he rejected you callously, even laughing, and he dumped you as a friend like your years of friendship had only lasted a day. Clearly, your friendship had never meant much to him. As they say, the winner takes it all, and Sunghoon had really taken it all triumphantly.

You’d never meant for your crush to get so out of hand, not when you’d vowed straight after that incident that you would no longer care about him. You said that as the tears stuttered down your cheeks, staining red in their wake as you deleted his number from your phone, hesitating momentarily. You said that as you tore up the polaroid pictures of you two, kept in the depths of the shoebox he’d gifted you for your birthday that had contained a pair of shoes you already had but you didn’t care because Sunghoon was the one who’d gifted it to you. You said that as you reluctantly threw the hoodies he left at your house into a bin, glancing at them one last time as you recalled how you used to press your face into his hoodie clad chest as you both watched some shitty film that only Sunghoon liked. You’d really thought you could get over Sunghoon within a day. What, after he humiliated you and broke off your friendship, how could you even stand him? And yet as you spotted him laughing with his friends by the water fountain, the butterflies spiralled uncontrollably from the pits of your stomach, your heart beating harder and harder the more you looked at him, and you couldn’t deny the way your cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. And that’s the moment you knew you were done for. You were utterly and forevermore in love with the despicable human being that was Park Sunghoon, in all his glory as he was praised by his fifty million girlfriends that truly believed they were the one for him.

“Well, I think we’ve all drank enough so we should be getting back,” you urged the others, helping Yunjin up, and she clung to your arms, her legs stumbling over one another, and drunken babbles spewed from her lips as she let you drag her away from the table, Chaewon and Giselle in tow with their arms wrapped around each other as they collapsed into your car, too dazed to even be able to put on their seatbelts, and you frowned, having not wanted to remind yourself of Sunghoon when you were out with the girls, who really should be distracting you from the topic. You already knew their hungover was going to feel like hell and mentally, you made a note to set an alarm to wake up early and prepare a hangover soup to nurse them so that they might be able to get even the slightest bit of work done the next day. You rubbed you forehead before entering the driver’s seat, backing the car out from the parking lot as you began the drive to the campus.

“Hey Y/N,” Yunjin mumbled, her eyes bleary having just woken up from her sleep as she made the continuous motions of tugging on the hem of your jacket, and you nodded, indicating that you were listening, as you focused on the road ahead of you. “You shouldn’t keep loving Sunghoon. He’s going to use it against you one day and you won’t be able to do anything about it. Plus, you’re too good for him. Go date Heeseung,” Yunjin whispered, before her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned against the window, her forehead creased as soft snores resounded through the car. Lee Heeseung. The poor boy had liked you for months now, even resorting to asking you out, but you’d softly rejected him, claiming that you needed to focus on your studies, but you were sure that he knew the truth. That you liked Sunghoon and not him. And he knew that while Sunghoon was his friend and remained on campus, Heeseung would always be shrouded by his monumental shadow. Heeseung was sweet and kind: he wasn’t an avid enjoyer of parties like Sunghoon was, he wasn’t cruel and he cared fiercely about other, and he always offered you a sweet smile in the corridor whenever he saw you.

“She broke up with me,” Sunghoon whispered, as he lay on the worn out sofa he’d once lain on with Yoo Jimin curled up by his side, and he stared up at the ceiling, fingers knotted through his damp hair as he clenched his jaw together. Sure, his and Jimin’s relationship hadn’t been perfect: they argued, they fought and they had their miscommunications, but it was damn near the most perfect relationship Sunghoon had ever had and he was in fucking love with Yoo Jimin. She was the only girl who truly understood him, and she’d been the precise dream girl he’d cared so much for. She wasn’t one of those girls he’d have sex with then proceed to leave behind, nor was she one of those girls who complicated their relationship by acting like she could do anything to change him. They’d started as casual friends with benefits, but it was when Yoo Jimin admitted she’d fucked Choi Beomgyu, and it was then that Sunghoon grew terrified Jimin would abandon him for someone better. Someone like Beomgyu who was practically the perfect boyfriend and would take her on perfect dates, and would give her perfect presents and a perfect kind of love. So he took it upon himself to buy Jimin a Vivienne Westwood necklace, a Pandora bracelet and a pair of Dior heels (girls liked that kind of things, don’t they?), and so Jimin accepted his grand proposal in front of a Michelin star restaurant where Sunghoon had burnt all his money on the food that was too small for the expense he paid. He took her on the dates Beomgyu could’ve taken her on, and bought her the presents Beomgyu could’ve bought her, and loved her the way Beomgyu would’ve. And it still wasn’t enough. Not when she broke up with him in the apartment she shared with Kim Minjeong, her eyes only slightly teary as she slammed their promise ring down on her bedside table, storming out of the room, and Sunghoon had to force his feet to move, dragging them against the floor slowly, wishing to the dear heavens that this moment wasn’t happening.

Fuck, his entire future was beginning to be shaped around her and when he thought about his future, he could only see her in it. How they’d have a house on the picturesque cul-de-sac, and they’d have two cars, and they’d have two children and one dog. After work, Sunghoon would go home to have dinner, and they’d hug on the sofa, and they’d put the kids to bed, and they’d have sex on their bed before showering and going to sleep. Then he’d wake up, knowing Jimin was with him, and automatically, everything would be okay. Everything. Everything had been with Yoo Jimin and now that she was gone, Sunghoon didn’t know what the fuck he was meant to do. He could never love anyone as much as he loved Jimin. They were soulmates, at least that’s what Sunghoon knew, and he’d dated a lot of girls, but none of them had made him embark on a cruise of passionate love like Jimin had forced him to do, their voyage now presenting itself as bittersweet.

“Hoon,” Jay called his name, shaking Sunghoon, and swiftly, a piece of pizza was dangled in front of him, the cheese looking remorseful. Jay was Sunghoon’s roommate, as was Jake and Heeseung, the latter pair having chosen to stay locked up in Jake’s room, worried that Sunghoon would go on an emotional rant and end up sobbing, and neither Heeseung nor Jake knew entirely how to comfort an emotional Sunghoon, who was often stoic. The

job of comforting a saddened Sunghoon often resided entirely on Jimin, but now she was gone as well, so Jay had to pick up the job, and though he was trying his best, he could never make up for what Jimin had done. “You should eat,” Jay said, sitting down on the sofa next to Sunghoon’s feet, and Sunghoon sat up slowly, crossing his legs as he grabbed the pizza from Jay’s hands, shoving the greasy food into his mouth, swallowing it with much difficulty, the cheese and tomato sauce sticking to his teeth, and he could feel the oil glide down his throat. If he’d been with Jimin, she would probably have made him some sort of tomato soup with basil, because Jimin had always been good at cooking, and afterwards, Sunghoon would clean up as Jimin picked a film for the pair of them to watch, and it was always some romantic shit that Sunghoon hated, but he watched it with Jimin because of the way her eyes sparkled and widened with adoration for the couple. Even though Sunghoon found it all too cheesy and corny, he watched it for Jimin because he was so dearly in love with her.

“That’s disgusting,” Sunghoon scrunched his nose up, and Jay sighed, grabbing the remote from its position beside him as he switched on the TV, glancing to the side as Sunghoon brought another piece of pizza up to his lips. “And you’re still eating it?” Jay pointed out and Sunghoon rolled his eyes, though he didn’t deny the fact. Stretching his arms above his head and realising that he’d been lying in that exact position for approximately 3 hours, Sunghoon made the decision that greasy pizza would taste best with a beer that costed $5 from the corner shop, and it would most likely be a beer that Jake brought so it would probably be ten times more revolting. Sunghoon opened the fridge, and to his surprise, there was around twenty bottles of beer left unopened, and if anyone else came to the apartment, they’d imagine the roommates were alcoholics. Actually, Sunghoon would blame Jake and call him a raging alcoholic. Besides, Jake was known on campus for having the highest alcohol tolerance, so it really wouldn’t be that far-fetched. Sunghoon bought for beers from the fridge, taking the bottle opener as he brought them to the sofa, handing one to Jay as he took his own, flicking it open as he took a sizable gulp, the pizza taste now having been washed down by the bitterness of beer. “I’ll text the others,” Jay commented, pulling out his phone as he sent a message to Jake, who would no doubt be playing video games with Heeseung. It seemed that if they weren’t doing work, they were immersed in the realm of video games, and would play well into the early hours of the morning where the cool rays dawn would begin to break through the cracks between the curtains, when they’d eventually drift off to sleep, headphones slipping off their ears.

“You good?” Jake emerged from his room, and he punched Sunghoon’s bicep lightly, grabbing two beers as he slouched on the sofa, handing one to Heeseung, who sat next to Jake, the pair of them having left Jake’s domain that was almost impossible to enter with the plates of food stacked within his fortress, and it had become an ongoing joke that there was probably a rat lurking somewhere. The mess had gone to such an extent that Jake would end up fucking a girl on Jay’s bed and Jay was pissed that he’d have to watch his cum soaked mattress and sheets, and so threatened Jake that if he didn’t clean his room soon, an exterminator would be called. The exterminator seemed to be a very possible future that was drawing near. In fact, the only other person besides Jake that could handle such a colossal mess was Heeseung, but that was because his room was no better, but at least Heeseung had the decency to watch his dirty dishes- his issue was the amount of plates strewn across the floor. Contrasting the pair of them was Sunghoon and Jay, whose rooms were kept as neat as possible.

“Fine,” Sunghoon lied, watching the TV screen where Jay flicked through the available films, before he eventually stopped at the Amazing Spider-man, and Sunghoon recalled how much Jimin loved Andrew Garfield. Oh, how she pressed her face into his shoulder with her finger curled over his top as she fawned over his crooked, awkward smile and Sunghoon would wonder what the fuck she liked about him that Sunghoon couldn’t make up for. And because Jimin loved Andrew Garfield in that spider-man suit so much, just that last Halloween, Sunghoon had dressed up as spider-man (and Sunghoon never dressed up for Halloween), and he’d twirled a giggling Jimin who’d dressed up as Jennifer from Jennifer’s body into his arms, kissing her so many times on her face as he watched her cheeks heat up, calling her the prettiest Gwen Stacy there could ever be. “Change it,” Sunghoon pointed at the TV, drinking from his beer bottle again, and Jay frowned, though after a nudge from Heeseung and a pointed look from Jake, in a disappointed manner, Jay changed to another movie, flicking through the remaining channels before halting on a Mission impossible film that Sunghoon must have lazily watched a hundred times, and so he hummed in agreement. Jimin hated Mission impossible, so they never watched it together. “It’s just so unrealistic!” she’d whine when Sunghoon would attempt to get her to watch it, and he would laugh, brushing the hair out of her face before agreeing to change to a stupid romcom. If Sunghoon was being honest, he preferred the romcoms if it meant seeing Jimin smile her pretty smile.

“We’re meeting the other guys tomorrow, just reminding you all. Also, Sunghoon, before you say no, we’ve planned this party for weeks” Jake announced, and Sunghoon grumbled under his breath that he wasn’t planning on saying no, even though he really was and he didn’t want to meet the other guys who’d be so obsessed about talking about Jimin, and Sunghoon would get so pissed that the meeting wouldn’t even be fun anymore. It seemed Heeseung recognised this, as he abruptly sat up, setting his beer bottle on the table as he turned to Jake. “Text the group chat and tell them to not bring up Jimin if they can help it,” Heeseung warned, and Sunghoon couldn’t help the snicker that escaped his lips. It wasn’t even particularly funny, and Heeseung hadn’t meant for it to come off as funny, yet Sunghoon couldn’t help the bubbles of laughter seeping from his mouth. The other boys gave him questioning looks, faintly concerned, and Jake quietly said that the guys they were meeting had agreed to the condition. And the laugh grew louder, as he clutched his stomach, the deep, throaty laughs echoing within the small room, and was eventually drowned out by Sunghoon chugging down beer, muffled under the liquid. Nothing was funny and everything was funny. He was happy, he was sad, he was angry, he was confused and at the end of the torrent of emotions boiling within him, Sunghoon was just quite plainly lost.

He missed Jimin.

Sitting with a group of boys Sunghoon quite frankly did not give a fuck about after enduring a breakup he’d have to spend a year healing from was an experience that was probably worse than writing an essay at 2AM under the harsh beams of light in his room while listening to Jay’s snores from the other room and Heeseung and Jake’s sporadic yells as they played video games. Actually scratch that, because nothing was worse than that. But this experience was probably right under that, because for once, Sunghoon didn’t feel very popular or arrogant or even sociable. Most of the time, in situations such as this, Sunghoon would be cracking jokes, making fun of the relationships the boys had attempted to embark on, and clowning them for their academic failures. But it seemed Na Jaemin from the older year had temporarily taken over his role, but Jaemin had a proclivity for getting high before any social gathering (he’d claimed once that weed was the only reason he could properly function in life, and that his plug would forever be written in his will), and so most of the topics of conversation Jaemin brought up were things no one really cared to speak about. And so Jaemin opted to roll a blunt, and offer it to Sunghoon. There were only two times Sunghoon chose to get high (he savoured the taste of cigarettes more even though Jimin hated it): he’s at a party or going through a midlife crisis. Clearly, Sunghoon was suffering from the latter and so gratefully, he took the blunt, sticking it between his lips and Jaemin pulled out his lighter, lighting the blunt for Sunghoon, and he inhaled deeply, plumes of smoke slipping from his lips as he exhaled and almost immediately, his head began to feel lighter.

“She just left me like that and I gave her everything. I don’t get what she wants me to do,” Sunghoon ranted, his words stumbling over themselves as he slumped on the sofa, both Jay and Jaemin next to him, looking equally as high as he was, their eyes rimmed red (though Jaemin’s was permanently rimmed red), and it seemed neither could completely process what he was saying. If Sunghoon was being honest, he didn’t know what he was saying anymore either, not after Jimin had left him so cruelly. Sunghoon hadn’t even been a bad boyfriend! Bad boyfriends don’t buy you pandora bracelets and buy you a charm every time there’s a celebration. Bad boyfriends don’t buy you flowers, cakes and a teddy bear for your birthday. Bad boyfriends don’t love you so much to the point they think their heart might give up from the weight of the love. “She’s going to go back to Beomgyu,” Sunghoon grumbled, folding his arms as he took the new joint Jay had rolled from Jaemin’s lips, and Jaemin pouted.

Jaemin was the person who’d introduced Jimin to Sunghoon, grabbing Sunghoon in a deathly grip as he grabbed him to the corner of the room in a party where Jimin stood, her body adorned in a sparkly silver dress, and her eyes glittering from metallic eyeshadow, and her lips were so plump and glossy. In that moment, Sunghoon knew he was a goner, as he looked at Jimin’s lips curve into an inviting smile as she held out her hand, straightening her ebony black hair over her shoulder. Jaemin was also the person who told Sunghoon to treat Jimin well, because she was sweet girl, and hadn’t Sunghoon done exactly that? Yet she still broke up with him, even though they were like jigsaw puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. “Then why don’t you make her jealous? Swear girls love that,” Jay claimed, as he stared at the ceiling, and Sunghoon sat up. Though the haze of the drugs made him bleary, there was no question about it that Jay was a borderline genius. “Yeah but you got to make sure that the girl isn’t too much of a hassle,” Jaemin pointed out, and Sunghoon frowned. That would be a more difficult criteria to check off because most girls he ended up dating where possibly some of the clingiest women in the female species.

“What about Y/N? She’d kill to date me, and she’d probably just accept she isn’t good enough if I break up with her. That’ll get her off my back,” Sunghoon rolled his eyes, the sudden thought springing to mind, and raucous laughter thundered from Jay’s chest, and Sunghoon widened his eyes. Jaemin shook his head, the corner of his lips quirking up ever so slightly. “Poor girl,” he mumbled, stubbing out the blunt, having evidently decided he was high enough, and he resumed his position slouched against the worn fabric of the sofa in Sunghoon’s apartment. All the boys had left, and Jake had left to go to Park Jisung’s apartment where Jaemin also resided, and Heeseung had left to hang out with Yang Jeongin who stated a few floors below. Sunghoon knew it was cruel, but when it came to Jimin, he was willing to do anything. He would move mountains, and capture stars, and he’d even give her the entire galaxy if she simply asked. “You really think she’ll accept? After all this time?” Jay chortled, and Jaemin couldn’t fight the amused look painting his face and Sunghoon rolled his eyes. Did they really doubt him. He scoffed, “of course.” Jay licked his lips, as though he was plotting something before he leaned forward. “Alright then. I dare you to date Y/N for 2 months with Jimin’s knowledge, get her to say I love you in front of Jimin and then you can break up with her. Deal?” Jay extended out his hand. Sunghoon was hesitant. What if it backfired?

“Deal.”

▶︎ DANCING WITH THE DEVIL. [Sunghoon.]

Abstract: You've always felt it in your guts that something is off about the campus heartthrob, Park Sunghoon. Being more of a rational person however, you tried to bury such gut instincts, chalking the dislike towards his wealth and pretty privilege instead. Not that your feelings matter though, you two are two world's apart, which means you two are bound to never get any closer. That is, until an ill-timed encounter with him at a party seemingly have led your worlds to collide because since then, he grew into a looming presence in your daily life. He was always around and always watching. The more you tried to avoid him, the closer he got and eventually you were forced to spend more time with him than you ever wished to. The more time you spent with him though the more you discovered that he was far from the arrogant airhead you pictured him to be, he was in fact, smarter and more diligent compared to the average Joe. In other words, your negative impression of him all these while had never been more wrong. Or so you thought. Because of the rare times your gut instincts turn out to be correct, it was actually for this one too -- but by the time you realize it, you already had your guards down.

Genre: vampire!sunghoon | horror | thriller | fantasy |||| wc: ~21.1k

Warnings: blood; slight suggestiveness; mentions of crimes (missing persons, murder, serial killings); manipulation.

Taglist: @axartia

“He’s staring at you again,” Sunoo, your bestfriend, whispered, “Park Sunghoon, I mean.”

You followed Sunoo’s gaze and indeed staring back at you from across the lecture theatre was the campus heartthrob, Park Sunghoon, with gaze unflinching even after you had caught him staring. What a psychopath, you thought to yourself when suddenly, as if reading your thoughts, one corner of his mouth lifted forming a coy smirk, catching you off guard and forcing you to break the eye contact. 

This was in fact not the first time that he had seemingly engaged you in some sort of silent unprovoked and unsolicited rounds of staring contest. It was the third time for this week alone. So far however, you hadn’t been winning — not especially when his stare had always have this sort of unexplainable intensity that pierces right into you, in spite of the distance, as if threatening to bore holes into the back of your mind. Perhaps that is what people were talking about when they harp about just how ‘magnetic’ or ‘hypnotising’ his gaze are. Though to you they felt rather unnerving and invasive. Like that of an old painting whose eyes seem to follow you wherever you move in the room.

“it’s all in your head Sunoo,” you replied dismissively, shifting your attention back to the board where the professor had just written down some important takeaways from last week's reading on Hobbes' Leviathan.  

“You wish it was. Pretty boy is still staring by the way,” Sunoo clicked his tongue, “at this point, either you had crossed him or he’s got a crush on you.”

“That’s a whole load of rubbish,” you elbowed Sunoo, trying to get him to shut up so you can continue concentrating in class and stop hearing anything about Sunghoon especially when you already get an earful on the daily from his horde of fangirls who are always singing praises about his looks, his stature, his manner and his wealth. Unlike the rest of the campus though, you have never had a good impression of Sunghoon. Born with both good looks and wealth, no example best display wealth and pretty privilege better in campus than him and his pretty friends who struts around in campus clad in all designers with special parking spaces reserved for their Teslas, Benz and Beemers while also having a whole room in campus dedicated for their hangouts like some sort of a secret student society.

Now and then though, in between the blind praises, you can hear wicked rumours spoken in whispers about these boys: their underground and political connections; all the drugs and booze; nepotism; and the list goes on. It’s unsurprising just how rumour-abound these boys are though. Afterall, not much is known about their families except that they are rich and powerful that no one in their right mind would dare to cross them. Legends are abound of what befell those who did cross them or their family, none of which end well: they either fall to the bottom rung of society or disappear off the face of the earth. 

“And he is still staring, go figure,” Sunoo scoffed, leaning back on his seat with arms crossed, looking offended as if he had been the one getting the stare down,  “You sure you haven’t done anything y/n?”

“Dude, what could I possibly have done when all I do is stay cooped up in the library or at home?” you retorted as a matter-of-factly. That was however a lie — though only partially. Truth to be told, you had a vague assumption as to why Sunghoon has been shooting daggers through his eyes at you. You believed it could be traced back to a party hosted two weeks ago by Jay Park, one of those influential one in Sunghoon’s circle, which Sunoo had dragged you into.

Long story short, in an attempt to escape the rowdy crowd, you wandered around their bachelor pad in search of quieter corners only to stumble upon Sunghoon making out with the Cheer Captain in one of the empty living rooms upstairs. You remember scoffing at the sight, suddenly reminded of all the A’s Sunghoon has gotten for all his Economic modules despite his absences in classes. Well, that’s a no brainer since he’s dating the Faculty Head’s daughter, you thought to yourself, still grimacing at the sight of her straddling his lap with her head thrown back as he feverishly buried his head on the crook of her neck. 

Sunoo would have loved a shot of this for his gossip column, you thought to yourself when suddenly you feel something shifting in the atmosphere. The next thing you knew, Sunghoon had lifted his head up, his eyes meeting yours immediately and directly in such a chilling precision as if he knew exactly that you had been standing right there and watching. In that instance, you swore, you felt the temperature in the room drop while the lighting around the hall grew dimmer. You remember swallowing thickly and backing up slowly, feeling small under the weight of his intense gaze and what seemed like an inhuman glint in his eyes which had sent shivers down your spine. You took off not long after, out of the hallway, out of the loft, not even bothering to tell Sunoo that you were leaving early.

That was when it all started, you reckoned. Because since then, you turned from seemingly being invisible to him to being in his radar.  Whenever your eyes accidentally landed on him in campus, you’d find that he was already staring but unlike any normal person who would have immediately stared away, he would maintain the eye contact as if wanting you to know that he had been meaning to stare. His lips would then often twist into a wry smile as if taunting you. It was as confusing as it was annoying because with all the stare down, it was almost as if you had witnessed him murdering the girl rather than making out with her. 

“I have a really bad feeling about this though,” Sunoo grumbled, interrupting your train of thoughts.

You scoffed, “I’ve told you a million times before that his vibes are always off — not that you’ve ever believed me anyway.”

Whatever, it will pass, you reassure yourself. 

Except it didn’t and nothing could have prepared you for just how badly things would unravel with Sunghoon.

“I just saw the announcement on the board earlier,” you said the moment you took a seat next to Sunoo the next day in Macroeconomics class, “the cheer captain got replaced?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, who are you and what have you done with y/n? She would be caught dead reading announcements from that corner of the hallway — if anything she’d be frequenting the notice board next to the City Hall instead — the one with the missing people and whatnot,” Sunoo remarked sarcastically before schooling his expressions after you shot him a glare, “I’m sorry. I repent.”

“Anyways, as I was saying, isn’t the match coming? Why is she suddenly getting replaced?” You repeated, taking your laptop out as more students rushed into the lecture theatre, filling it up with cacophony of noises.

“Well, the official story is that she fell off the pyramid and broke her leg. Since the match is coming, they can’t afford a limping captain can they? So off she went,” Sunoo answered sassily before smirking, “would you like to hear what I heard through the grapevine instead?”

“No-“

“Heard girlie is pregnant,” Sunoo cut you off, flashing a triumphant grin.

“Dude,” you gasped, looking around to make sure no one had heard it, “what did I say about rumors — if you don’t see it with your own eyes or hear it with your own ears, you pipe it not spread it.”

“Uh, if the shoe fits,” Sunoo quipped with a shrug, “Also, come on. I write one of the most highly-demanded columns in our campus newspaper so my sources are reputable.”

“Define reputable,” you answered sarcastically but Sunoo just ignored you as he began again, “As I was saying, she has been acting all sorts of weird lately — lethargic, forgetful, dazed — well you name it. She hardly attended practice and when she did, she could not execute her moves well at all. The next thing you know, she fell off the pyramid and broke her leg. Since the competition is coming up, they can’t be waiting around for her so they decided to swap the cheer captain. Must be devastating for her though — girlie is so ambitious to top everything, the cheer, and social circle and well, it’s all dust now. Doubt Sunghoon would stick around anymore, that boy got the hots only for the IT girls and well, she’s a has been now.”

“Good morning class,” the professor entered the room, silencing everyone almost immediately, including you two. All of sudden, the image of the cheer captain feverishly making out with Sunghoon from the other night popped into your mind. Your eyebrows knit in disgust at the memory.

“Anyways, maybe that’s why Sunghoon has got the hots for you as of late,” Sunoo giggled, jutting his chin out forward, beckoning you to follow his gaze. To your horror, sitting across of you in the front row, at the opposite side of the theatre, was Sunghoon, already staring back at you.

“I just realised that he has been taking front row seats too as of late, just across of us. They have always sat at the back, or just didn’t show up at all. Coincidence? Me think not," Sunoo winked at you, smirking mischievously.

“Can you stop? He is not staring at me," You rolled your eyes with disdain, "and I don't know why they have started to sit at the front. Maybe they've come to their senses and have started to realise that they should work hard in classes like the rest of us instead of bloody buying their way in all-”

“Y/N.” 

You jolted slightly in your seat, startled, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. You bit your lower lip anxiously, wondering if the professor had called your name out to reprimand you for talking in class. Fortunately, that was not the case. Instead, you became this week's victim for his usual surprise Q&A, "Last week we spoke about policy dilemmas especially in this era of new normal. Based on the reading I have asked you guys to do, what do you think is the best policy prescription that countries can adopt now considering the persistency of volatilities?” 

“You got this girl,” Sunoo quickly whispered while giving your hand a quick squeeze for support. You squeezed it back, before standing up to answer the professor's question, "At this stage, whether we like it or not, fiscal stimulus is highly needed because the inflation represents like a double-whammy to a the battered society. If we don’t help protect people’s rights to an adequate living standard in light of current situation, not only will their welfare be heavily compromised but the economy would slide into a recession due to the stalling demand which would leave the government with more thorny problems to solve.”

The professor nodded in agreement. As he opened his mouth to praise your answer however, another hand rose up from the crowd — it was Park Sunghoon. 

“Sorry Professor, I’m sure that that is indeed a true solution for certain times but we are potentially entering a new era in which inflation levels might stay elevated so if we continue to cater for the masses through fiscal stimulus — we’d be chasing pavements especially since the problem are also heavily driven by supply-side constraints. If anything, I believe it is time to pull back on the demand-side to lessen the pressure on prices,” Sunghoon explained, his eyes fixated on you throughout as if it had been a two-person debate with you instead. As soon as he finished, the corners of his lips twisted into a smug grin as if proclaiming victory. Unlike other times when you stared away, this time you held his gaze. Your brows furrowing in vehemence as this had been the umpteenth time that he had raised his hand to counter your points.

Normally, you wouldn’t even bat an eye to it. After all, you love listening and engaging in healthy debates. But with Park Sunghoon, it felt oddly personal, like he was trying to one-up you at everything — as if he had got a personal vendetta against you. Just like his unsolicited staring contests, he had begun countering any points you present forward, turning a simple Q&A from the professor to you, into a debate between you and him — an unsolicited debate, that is. Regardless of the modules, he would always find a contrasting argument to yours — trying to beat you as if someone was keeping score. 

Calmly you argued back, “I agree that that is a good argument against the use of fiscal stimulus but we are not facing just another one-off policy problem. We are also in a crisis. If we don’t protect people’s pre-crisis living standards, not only will their welfare be heavily compromised, demand could plunge and pull the economy down the recession rabbit-hole. So until the economy is decisively restarting, we need fiscal stimulus to continue fuelling the gears of the economy. Then we can wean them off it and tap on other policy tools like monetary policies. Not to mention the use of fiscal stimulus can also help address some of the supply-constraint problem that drove up inflation in the first place as it could also be channeled towards re-employment, investment, expansions and so on.”

“Wow,” the professor gave an applause, a proud smile adorning his lips, “You two indeed have showed the crux of the policy dilemma that countries face. While in normal times, both of your policies are perfect solutions — in crises, they can become a double-edged sword. So the answer is often in weighing the risks carefully — to weigh which policies should be leveraged more on further, for how long and how to ease it off in the mid-long term to prevent adverse implications from fossilising. Good job you two. I haven’t seen such contentious debates in a long time — I can die peacefully now.”

The class roared in laughter along with the professor as you two sat back down, eyes still on one another, the smirk never leaving Sunghoon's lips and the scowl never leaving your face. At this rate, it really did seem like he was one-upping you. That he had a bone to pick with you.

As soon as the class ended, best believe Jay was the first to poke fun at Sunghoon’s active participation in the lecture. With a sharp-angled jawline that looked like it could cut glass, and sharp deep-set eyes that are well-framed with strong arched brows — Jay is very masculine-looking and can come across as very intimidating. Despite that however, he is actually the social butterfly and the jokester in Sunghoon’s little clique. In other words, if you get pass his intimidating looks, he is actually the easiest to befriend and get along with.

“Are you trying to switch your reputation from being the campus heartbreaker to the campus nerd?” He raised his eyebrows as he sat on the table, waving at some of guys and girls that passed by who greeted him before they exited the hall, “You have been on a bloody roll in lectures and seminars these days. At this rate, you’ll end up as the teacher’s pet. Unless of course, that’s what you wanted, wait— is there a MILF that you’re trying to impr-“

“I’d wash your mouth with bleach if I could,” Jake smacked Jay by the arm. Jake, the blonde one, with the chiseled face, wide smile and plump lips, on the other hand, looks like the easiest to approach as he gave off Golden Retriever vibes though he is actually one of the most cunning one in the group with a penchant for flirting. “Nothing is hotter than a man with both looks and brains so whatever shit Sunghoon is trying to pull, I’m pretty sure it will bring more girls which translates to, more meals,” he added, snickering.

“Yeah, your mouth will get half of that bleach too Jake,” Heeseung chided, taking a jab at Jake as he joined them, “what did I say about being less explicit and crude when conversing? Do I have to print out a proper glossary for you guys? I have a reputation to uphold as part of the Student Body remember?”

Heeseung is the oldest one in the clique, the one that is pretty much the boy of every parents’ dream: handsome, an honor student, head of the Student Union and pretty much an ace, being able to master almost anything he decides to dabble into. Being the ”oldest“, he takes it upon himself to make sure the boys behave and do not step out of line.

“Pfft, loosen up,” Jay sneered, “most of the suspicious things we say are taken as innuendos anyways so we’re good. Had this been the 17-18th century however, we’d be burnt at stake.”

“That’s because your crowd are mostly those kind of people-“ Heeseung rolled his eyes at Jay before noticing Sunghoon spacing out next to them, “hey pretty boy stop staring at her, you’re burning holes.”

“Right… what is up with you lately,” Jake elbowed Sunghoon, “Found a new potential toy? A meal?”

“Might be a pest but I still can’t decide yet,” Sunghoon answered flatly, arms crossed as he leaned against the table behind him, eyes fixated on you. 

“Well for a pest, you sure are taking your sweet time brooding over it,” Jay mocked, “Have the accident with your most recent toy gave you some sort of trauma?”

“I wish I had made it into a real accident myself, then I wouldn’t have to deal with her calls,” Sunghoon scoffed, seeing his phone lit up for the umpteenth time from the same person this week: the Cheer Captain.

“Can’t you pick up her call at least once?” Heeseung sighed, “you owe her that much after ruining her life.”

“Don’t be overdramatic, it’s just a broken leg,” Sunghoon’s lips curled into a wry smile, showing a lack of remorse, “Also, how is that my fault? It occurred like a few days after that night so it’s all on her. She should’ve gotten a transfusion or get an energy drink if she feels lightheaded or weak.”

Heeseung sighed. This is the thing about Sunghoon — he has no tact at all which sometimes meant that Heeseung has the be the one cleaning up some of the little mess he stirs up. But then again, it is still much better compared to the mess that Jay and Jake stirs from being the more flamboyant, reckless and hot-blooded ones in the group. 

When Sunghoon looked back up from his phone, you were already done packing your things up, sharing a hearty laugh with the pale guy next to you as you two made your way out of your row. Sunghoon grabbed his backpack, looking like he was about to walk up to you. He was a step too late though as a red-haired guy beat him to it, greeting you loudly with a dimpled smile. He recognized the boy since his face was always plastered over the University’s notice board and paper. He’s the campus Taekwando champion, Yang Jungwon. 

“Tonight?” Sunghoon heard him ask you. You nodded, answering, “Yep, same place and time yeah?”

With that you headed out of the room, paying absolutely no attention to Sunghoon, as if he did not exist. Sunghoon scoffed, that was one of the growing list of things that irked him about you. The fact that you never showed him any other expressions than that of disinterest and contempt — the latter of which has to even be purposefully elicited from you such as by publicly countering your points in class and whatnot. He didn’t know why this irked him so much when he is already smothered with so much interest and attention already on a daily basis from half of the uni’s population, and you’re just one person, of no significance to him.

Whatever it was, he did remember when it all started though — it was the night of the party. As if imprinted into his brain, he remembered your expression of disgust during that night. The way you scoffed and rolled your eyes when you saw him with the Cheer Captain. He knew full well that you did not clearly see what he was doing but the expression struck a chord in him.

He was getting sick of the Cheer Captain and her constant need of attention and affection. His mind was also starting to tread dangerous waters, thinking of how unfair the relationship was on him. After all, she got everything and anything a human could possibly want in a relationship by dating him: a hot boyfriend with looks, brains and wealth, which in turn also shores up her reputation as the IT girl in campus. But there was honestly nothing to be gained for him from dating her, except for making him appear more humane, in Heeseung’s words, and perhaps to satisfy his carnal desire, though he hadn’t even have much of that to satisfy in the first place. She would go through lengths though to make sure it is fulfilled but at the end of the day, it still felt lacking for that was not the hunger and desire that he really needed to satiate. 

Unbeknownst to him, his head had travelled down her neck, triggering his own hypersensitivity towards the blood that was coursing through her veins. In the dangerous cocktail of thoughts and proximity, his throat dried up and his mind went on free-fall as soon as he sank his teeth onto her neck. He could feel himself losing control but he didn’t care, he was really getting sick of her, of everything — he could take care of another dead body easily so he thought, why not?

So he did. The euphoria, especially after depriving himself of fresh blood for a long time was off the charts. But it did not last long for he felt someone else’s presence nearby. As he lifted his head up directly towards the direction of that presence, he met your gaze, your face already contorted in a grimace at the sight. Being quite a prideful as a person, he did not take the your look of disgust well — not when it came from a mere mortal whom he could have killed in a heartbeat. But of course, that was not the sole reason as to why Sunghoon got so worked up. See, Sunghoon was always praised for his ability to restrain himself from devouring human for their blood. Unlike other vampires, he actually preferred to stick to bagged-blood diet for sustenance instead of hunting or preying on mere mortals. Other vampires might see this as discipline of the greatest form — something exemplary and someone worthy of utmost respect especially since times have changed which forced them to be extra cautious at liberally hunting human just for their blood. 

But the real truth is actually not so rose-tinted though it is something that only Sunghoon himself knew. Despite Sunghoon being amongst the elite of the vampire classes — the one with the pure-blood lineage, old money, and diverse and high education background — deep-seated within him was a hatred of his own nature. He loved control and order. With his wealth, intelligence, looks, charisma and magnetism — it was not difficult at all to either maintain or gain such control and order. The only thing that he failed to control was his thirst for blood when it does dawn. For a being that is supposed to be one step higher than mere mortals, the sight and smell of blood can immediately deprive his kind from any sense of rationality and free will — the satiation of which turns even the most noble into a beast, basically no different than an animal. Him notwithstanding. He hated that feeling — of losing control, of letting his hunger overthrow his rationality and consciousness. The disgusting aftermath of which serve as a reminder just how much of an animal their kinds can be. It all just feels like a vulnerability to him. Hence, he begun to depend on bagged-blood instead. Aside from being fuss and mess-free, a plus for a rather fastidious lad like himself, he won’t lose control. The constant uptake of which also help keeping him well-satiated which in turn helps him to withstand any direct exposure to human blood. But then again, he is loaded with lots of connection so it is relatively easy for him to source them. For other lower-class and average vampires however — they have little to no choice. Of course, he has not completely abandon such dietary needs yet. He still prey on people if they are easily accessible to him, which is pretty much all the time, given how people just buckle easily under his charm, wit and personal magnetism without him having to do much. It’s like they just willingly serve themselves on golden platter for him. Still, compared to other vampires, he always displayed more class and restrain when hunting/preying which explains his rather low body count. 

This is therefore why your expression of disgust that night, when he had lost control of himself in what he would have described a ‘moment of weakness’, struck a nerve in him. It was as if you were taking a jab at his deep-seated inferiority complex. You, a mere nobody and a mere mortal. Anger thus immediately rose within him at that time, as evidenced by the the drop in temperature and the dimming of lights in the room which reflect the sudden shift in his energy. Long forgotten was the limp body in his embrace for all he saw was you. Vexed, it occurred to him there and then to hunt you down and make you the next cold case in town though Heeseung came in just in time to warn him that he was almost draining his trophy girlfriend bloodless, kicking some sense into himself and stopping him from preying on another poor victim. 

Ever since then however, he cannot help but pick you out in the midst of the crowd, only realising that you two shared a few modules together as if you are just destined for him to mess with. He ran with it. Without realising however, in the midst of the constant in his life that was becoming boring, you somehow became a new point of interest in his life with your quirks and habits. Like a scientist fixated on a specimen, that is. Not to mention, he was beginning to enjoy the micro-change in your expressions which he can elicit from you just by staring you down or engaging you in a debate. 

“Well, if you need a new toy,” Jay slung an arm over Sunghoon’s shoulders, transporting him back to reality, “I know one that is just as perfect as your previous one. I happen to know that the new Cheer Captain got the hots for you — how does a new trophy girlfriend sounds like? She is also hosting a party tonight so you know…”

“You can take her,” Sunghoon cut him off, shoving Jay’s arms off his shoulders, “I’ve got more interesting thing to do.”

“You’re early.” 

You hear soon as the door of the personal study room you were in creaked open behind you. 

“You mean, you’re 5 minutes late?” You retorted as you swivelled around, expecting to see Jungwon, your partner for your Macroeconomics project. Instead of the red-haired cat-eye lad however, you were greeted by Park Sunghoon — the last person on earth you would expect to bump into in the library.

“You don’t look very happy to see me,” he said flatly as the door closed behind him, “I’m offended.”

“Uhh, this room is occupied and booked — in case the sign outside isn’t clear enough,” you replied curtly, “I’ve booked this room a week ahead already so you can’t just barge in and take this room okay? Follow procedures for once.”

“Well, someone already has a clouded opinion of me apparently,” he smirked, grabbing the chair that was across of you to your side, “you should consider being nice to me now. I’m your new project partner afterall.”

You stared at him in disbelief as he calmly sat down, “New partner? No, that can’t be right. It’s been 3 weeks, why would the professor suddenly change my partner?”

“Well, it’s not like the assignment of project partners have a statute of limitations,” Sunghoon shrugged before propping up his chin with his elbow on the table, facing you, “Regardless, I’m your new partner so get over it. I’m Sunghoon by the way.”

“Um duh, your notorious reputation precedes you, I know your name,” you replied as a matter-of-factly, flipping the pages of your notebook.

“I’m touched,” he smirked, “I know yours as well, it’s y/n.”

“mmhmm,” you gave him a quick glance, looking uninterested and unimpressed, before your eyes travel from the mind-map in your notebook to the opened email app in your laptop, “Let’s just crack on then. So, Jungwon and I have already discuss the potential structure and have also divided the tasks between ourselves. The parts highlighted in turquoise are his and in yellow, are mine. So far we have been doing the groundwork research for our respective parts. We are meant to meet again next week to piece them all up together and see what kind narrative we can go for in response to the question. But now that you’re here…” you drummed your fingers against the table, assessing the mind-map of work division on your notes, “the most straightforward way to divide the task between you and me would just be for you to take up Jungwon’s share and just continue where he left off. But I can see how that can be unfair since you weren’t the one agreeing to those share of subtopics in the first place so if you find any of the topics that I am currently doing more easy or comfortable to venture into — feel free to take them, I’ll switch them with yours. Don’t worry, I’ll hand over all the research and analysis I have done so far so you can build on it should you wish to pursue them.”

You looked up, slightly startled to see his face so close next to yours as he peered over to see your notes while calmly reassuring you, “don’t worry, I’ll take his share. You can just continue with yours.”

“If you say so,” you nodded in acknowledgement, quickly scribbling some notes on the mindmap, “Moving on. Like I said, we were meant to meet again next week to piece it all together. But, since you’ve just jumped in, I would have no problem postponing that — just let me know whenever you’re ready. Maximum by the end of this month I guess? So that we can have the structure and a definite direction ready at least.”

With a smug grin, he leaned back, “Oh please, no need for that. I’ll get it ready by next week. It would be as if nothing had changed.”

“That’d be perfect then,” you replied before shutting your laptop close, “I’ll email you the materials, template and some references.”

“That’s it?” he raised his eyebrows, watching you pack up.

“Unless you have any questions?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “just thought we’d be doing it together.”

“We will. But at this stage it would be more efficient to do some of the deep research individually since there are so many grounds to cover,” you explained, “And since it’s individually done at this stage — we don’t have to stay together. I’m pretty sure you’d rather be anywhere but here and be with anyone but me anyway.”

“That’s not true. I could have just sent you a text or an email if I didn’t want to spend time with you don’t you think?” 

You scoffed, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as you headed for the door, “See you next week, just email me if you have any questions or anything.”

Without sparing so much of another glance nor a wave, you exited the room. 

“How annoying,” he muttered as soon as the doors close. Though seemingly looking calm and unperturbed, his clenched fist and the slight twitch of his eyebrows indicated otherwise. Suddenly, the lights throughout the library flickered, startling everyone including yourself, who had just exited the lift. Only when he unclenched his fist did the lights stop flickering. He does not really like using some of his powers as it drains him easily especially in the absence of fresh blood but as of late — he had found himself uncontrollably tapping onto them.

No cross that, he thought, you made him resort to them.

“Told you we would find our boy in the library,” the blonde boy, with the golden-retriever energy, exclaimed as soon as he reached the top of the mezzanine floor, skipping happily towards the lad who was all hunched up over his desk at the corner. Sunghoon did not even bother looking up, knowing exactly who the owner of the voice was — it was Jake.

“Hi buddy,” Jake grasped him by both shoulders as if trying to scare him, not that Sunghoon budged. The lanky guy, with sharp eagle-like eyes, Jay, joined not long after, scoffing at the sight of all the works messily strewn across Sunghoon’s desk as he picked up one of the books on his table, “Really? You’re putting a massive blow on our image Sunghoon. I mean even the official nerds aren’t in the library at this hour.”

“Can’t you read the sign? This is the quiet zone,” Sunghoon emphasized, snatching the book that Jay was holding up, “Oh wait, I’m talking to the guy who kept on flunking his classes from one century to the next.” 

“Hey, I still score higher than you for Politics and History okay,” Jay retorted, “Also, I mean — come on, you’ve excelled in almost every classes in every century — how many more do you want? Are you not bored yet chasing such trivial pursuits like these mere mortals.”

“I don’t think the grades are his endgame,” Heeseung quipped, joining the boys last, jutting his chin towards the side of the ground floor where you were seating at, totally oblivious of the ruckus over the mezzanine floor.

Recognising the girl to be the one always in a heated debate in lectures with Sunghoon, Jay rolled his eyes, “Seriously dude? If you have a bone to pick with her just finish her out quick. You act as if you cannot just easily take her out. Why are you playing some cat and mouse game with her? Are you that bored now that your trophy girlfriend isn’t around?”

“Maybe our little prince here is loving the chase,” Jake touted, grinning mischievously, “We are predators after all — the chasing part of which can get even the sanest of us high. That is, if hunger does not overtake it.”

“Look, I don’t mind your little games,” Heeseung interjected, resting his hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze which felt far from comforting but more like a warning, “but you should be careful. You have been unnecessarily reckless as of late. First, the cheer captain then the taekwando champion — two important people in campus, two ended up hospitalised. If people around here were any smarter, they could’ve sniff out some similarities between the two cases which could put us in danger. This is no time to be playing around when beyond campus, missing people cases are already on the rise.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sunghoon shrugged Heeseung’s hand off, looking up at him with an almost taunting stare as he sneered, “Didn’t you hear what they all say? The cheer captain fell off the pyramid whilst Jungwon passed out from severe anaemia.”

The grin on both Jay and Jake’s face immediately dropped with the former almost gasping out loud, “shit that was you? Wait — if you’d been that bold and reckless as of late, you should have no problem preying on her. Instead you’re resorting to some lame cat and mouse game with her.Geez, what is wrong with this lad.” 

Indeed, like a true predator, he could just make things easy for himself by preying on you at your most vulnerable, which is pretty much most of the time for you. After all, you frequent quieter hallways, spaces and streets; you stay until graveyard hour at the library; you go home at the dead of the night and you’re pretty much alone half of the time he saw you in campus. Basically he had plenty of opportunities to do so. But he never did. Instead, he just observe you from afar or tail you — as if you’re a specimen, not a meal.

“Did she hit a nerve with you?” Heeseung raised his eyebrows, noticing the slight twitch in Sunghoon’s eyebrows as soon as he said it which confirmed his allegations. You can always leave it up to Heeseung to hit the nail right on the head. Sunghoon suddenly remembered the look of disgust you flashed him the night of the party. The contempt he felt never went away, it builds up the more he sees you. Most of the time, you act like he doesn’t exist — not even paying him the slightest attention unless forcefully elicited through some prolonged eye-contact or public debates. But even during those times, you either immediately stare away as if he was not even worthy to be stared at. Lately, in fact, you even purposefully avoided him. If he was in your lane or in a room you were heading, you just turn around, as if he’s a plague. Without realising, his hand was already curling into a fist, a glint sparking in his eyes as it stayed lock on you over at the ground floor. It was all painfully noticeable to Heeseung who then cautioned him, “You better nip the obsession in the bud Sunghoon. Don’t drag it out or else I’d have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sunghoon murmured, the corner of his lips lifted, forming a wry smile, “I’ll let her stay on her high horse for a bit — let it get higher, even. That way, when I push her off it — it would be one. painful. plunge.”

Heeseung sighed, shaking his head dismissively, “You’re calm and disinterested most of the time. But when not, so vengeful and obsessive.” 

“Explains why no one dares to cross him,” Jake shrugged, “Anyways, we didn’t go all the way here to study or chit chat. We’re here to drag you to the party Sunghoon. So come on, pack up and-“

“Told you guys I wasn’t joining,” Sunghoon replied nonchalantly, brows furrowing when he spot your friend entering the study hall, skipping happily towards you.

Jay chuckled as he stood next to Sunghoon, as if rejoicing the fact that nothing can be done on Sunghoon’s part anymore, “Well, not much you can do tonight it seems — girl is occupied now. So, what do you say? Shall we head to the party? You’d be obsessing over the missed opportunity all night so better drink it all up tonight, no?”

Sunghoon glared at Jay before exhaling sharply, “Fine.”

Over at the side, by the bannister, Heeseung stayed silent as he watched Sunghoon, his eyes looking stern. Noticing his grave expressions, Jake approached the older guy, trying to lighten up the atmosphere for him, “Sunghoon has been so disinterested with life for quite a while — the change is kind of exciting to see no?” 

“I’d rather he turn her into the next cold case in town than let him play mind games with her,” Heeseung mumbled, face impassive, “He can grow too obsessive to the point of irrationality that it can put us all in trouble.”

“Oh lighten up hyung,” Jake nudged him, “He’ll probably get bored of her soon.”

Except, Sunghoon never did for it became a new habit from then on, to stay until the dead of the night at the library just so that he can be around you. He was not really sure why he would do such a thing for there never really had been any plan in mind. He just saw you walking to the library one day, followed you, saw you stayed and decided to stay as well. He kept himself occupied too while at it since you spent ingloriously long hours in the library and he cannot just sit around and watch you all night. Since he had always loved being alone, the dead silence of the library during graveyard hours provided him just the respite he needed from the all the ruckus he had to face from being the campus heartthrob. He is quite intelligent and cerebral too so doing work for real in the library did not felt like a chore — it was rather enjoyable to him. He was able to see how theories and schools of thoughts that rose to prominence during 'his time', now dismantled by another school of thought. So feeble, he thought, the ebb and flow of human life and thoughts.

Now and then however, whenever he glanced up from his work, he would find his eyes landing on you over at the ground floor. Like gravity always pulling things back to earth, his eyes just always find you. Sometimes he would feel compelled to just walk up to you, strike a conversation or just bother you but somehow whenever the desire to do so was the strongest, the pale guy that was always with you would appear. He noticed the guy would often come by around midnight, skipping happily across the carpeted floor, and not long after, you would pack up and leave the library with him. It was as if he came by just to fetch you — like a parent or a guard dog, he thought.

Tonight however, your little guard dog was nowhere in sight. As if the stars were aligned for Sunghoon too, you had somehow dozed off in your study carrel — giving him an easy excuse to come up to you in case he needed to justify himself. He carefully approached you as the clock chimed, noticing the way your shoulder rise and fall with every breathing, the look of ease that spread across your face, the way your hair softly fell over the side of your face and the fact that you were still holding onto your pen, the ink bleeding onto your notes as it stayed on spot for who knows how long.

As if there was a magnetic force in between, his hand had already reached out towards you, gently tucking strands of hair that had covered your face, behind your ear. The warmth of your skin electrifying against his freezing hands, it was almost comforting. Instead of stopping, his hand continued travelling downwards, from your cheeks, to the side of your jaw then to your exposed neck. Suddenly he can feel the shift within himself. With his senses heightening, he was now becoming hyperaware of your beating pulse, which he could feel right under his fingertips, and the blood coursing through your veins. He swallowed thickly, feeling his judgements starting to become clouded when suddenly your eyes fluttered open. Startled, you jerked backwards in your seat in surprise, smacking his hand away in the process, “The fuc—“ 

He stared at you, deadpanned, as if he had not just done anything remotely suspicious nor invasive, “Are you always this jumpy?"

“I- well what were you doing anyway?” you asked, flabbergasted, your heart still hammering against your chest. You realised that the place was empty save for both of you.

“I wanted to wake you up, it’s midnight,” he answered as a matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” you took a quick glance at your watch, suddenly feeling embarrassed that you were thinking so negatively of him, “yeah, you’re right. I must have dozed off. I should pack up. Sorry about that—”

“No… wait—” he held onto your wrist gently, stopping you, “Stay for a bit. I have something to ask.”

You looked around, wary of the security guard who should be doing his rounds by now. It was already half past two. By then the security guard would have lost his composure if he found out you guys were still in the library when you guys should have long packed up and leave as the library should have been closed 30 minutes ago, “I- uh, I guess we can do a quick one before the guard comes.”

“Oh don’t worry. He won’t,” Sunghoon muttered quietly. You gave him a quick side-eye as you sat back, wondering how can he be so sure but decided not to ask anyway. Truth is, he had made the security guard doze off earlier so that he can spend some time alone with you. But you did not need to know that, he thought, smirking to himself.

“So,” he began, placing his laptop on your desk as he lowered himself down your level, “You said, we could use these sets and these right? Perhaps we can add another? As a dummy variable? I’ve selected some years where like absolutely nothing out of norm happening. And then, I’m also thinking that we can trial 1980s data sets, it has similar noise to your 1950.”

You looked closely at the data sets he highlighted which indeed showed similar contexts, “That’s true. They were indeed times of distress which could serve our narrative well. Wow, I should’ve thought of that. But anyways, yeah sure we can add a dummy variable and trial that one period. They seem to be highly correlated which can help us support either arguments. I actually, saw some similar arguments from these authors —”

But Sunghoon was not listening at all. As you were busy raising some important points, his attention had long darted away from the project, to you. From the way you gesticulated to make your point; the way your eyes sparkled as you explained your points thoroughly; to your plush lips; then down to your exposed neck and collarbone — suddenly reminded of the warmth of your neck and pulse that he could feel right underneath his fingertips just moments ago. Without realizing, he found himself slowly leaning in, getting delirious from the thoughts which were further intoxicated by the captivating and alluring smell of your perfume — a delicate blend of green, citrusy, and woody notes. 

“You smell nice,” he murmured, his breath tingling against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Excus-“ you turned to face him, about to shoot him a glare, only to suddenly get caught off guard by the proximity between your faces. His stare was deep, almost sultry, as it bore onto yours, making you gulp nervously as you backed away slightly. The proximity and the uncalled-for comment was really triggering your flight response but as he had placed one hand on the edge of your table and the other on your seat’s headrest, you were effectively caged in.

He, on the other hand, was unflinching as usual and as if he could read your mind, you notice the slight twitch on the corner of his lips and eyebrows — looking as if he was satisfied seeing you flustered. Snapping out of it, you pushed his laptop and papers back towards him, “do you not have any concept of personal space? Move back. You’re hogging my share of oxygen.”

Grinning coyly, he straightened back up. He knows not to push buttons too far. Not this early at least, "Why? Did your heart lurch?”

“No, but my hands were just about to had you gotten any closer,” you deadpanned, rising up from your seat, realizing that he might have had underlying intentions —whatever it was, “Anyway, sure. Trial them. I’ll add on with the justification if the results are favourable…” you continued as you pack up, “We’re done right? I’m heading home.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“There is absolutely no reason to. Dont you live like at the high street or something — that’s the opposite way,” you countered, throwing your backpack over your shoulders and making your way towards the door. 

“Which is why I have a car,” he emphasized, following closely behind you, “I can drive you. The bus doesn’t run anymore at this hour right?”

“Doesn’t really matter, my accommodation is still within walking distance,” you maintained, suddenly wishing that the guard would show up and interrupt you guys. Sunghoon was getting really pushy and considering all the weird moments you two shared, you were starting to get really uncomfortable.

“Haven’t you heard of the rising cases of people going missing? it’s not safe to be out and about alone.”

“I’d rather be caught dead than be caught riding your Benz,” you scoffed as you reached the lobby, “You should go home too. Your pretty face is a better catch than me in its entirety.”

He smirked as he outpaced you, grabbing the door handle before you could, “well, not all predators target the same prey.” 

You looked up at him quizzically. Leaning down, he whispered in your ear, “be careful then", before pushing the door open for you, gesticulating that you are free to pass through. You wanted to reply him, to have the last word but decided against it. So far, any small talks with him will just snowball rapidly into something else, just like a trap, so without wasting any more time, you brushed past him, putting your headphones over your ears as you walked down the tarmac path towards the main road. As you walked though, you could not help shake the feeling that there was a slight edge in his voice when he cautioned you earlier.

The end of another week rolled by. End of weeks are kind of special for you and Sunoo because if you guys plan to walk home together, you guys would make sure to take a slight detour to the 24-hour bubble tea shop in the city centre as a little reward to yourselves for working hard in campus all week. That was indeed the plan for tonight too but you have just received a text from Sunoo earlier to not wait up. He was told that his dance club was suddenly invited to perform at a big event next week so he would have to practice until much later from tonight onwards. Thus with no one to remind you of the time, you got so engrossed in your work at the library. Not to mention, the guard, yet again, was nowhere in sight so you overstayed your time.  

“Where’s your little guard dog?” 

You jumped in your seat, startled, “of course, it’s you,” you huffed, hands flying over to you chest in an effort to calm down your heart that had almost leapt out of your body. It was Park Sunghoon, again.

“For someone who is kind of fearless, you really are jumpy,” he mocked.

“Excuse me, you’re the one who snuck up on me,” you retorted, “Also what guard dog?”

“You know, the pale dude who is always with you,” he replied as he casually pulled one of the empty chairs and dragging it to your side, “the one who looks like a fox."

“His name is Sunoo and no he is not my guard dog,” you corrected.

“I hope not your boyfriend either?” he quipped, eyebrows raised, lips curled into his usual playful smirk.

“What is it to you anyway?” You shot back, eyeing him suspiciously as he took a seat beside you, placing his bag between your seat and his, “Also, what do you want from me this time?”

“Geez, you’re always so friendly,” he remarked sarcastically. 

“And you’re always up in my business,” you replied sardonically, plastering a fake smile, “no seriously though. If you need anything from me, just shoot now. Before the guard comes, we are like overstaying our time here again. If he sees us, he’d go ballistic.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he grinned coyly, “I know for sure he won’t.”

Your brows furrow over his overconfidence again but decided not to think much of it, again. It has been 3 weeks since you guys started working together and naturally, since you two had to meet once or twice a week over it, the animosity between you two, or rather from your side, have slightly dissipated. All the contemptuous debates and snide remarks have been replaced with productive discussions and playful banters. That being said, you still maintain an arm’s length with him. Nothing good comes from getting close to a heartthrob, you reasoned.

“Did you see my email?” he asked.

“Oh sorry, I haven’t. Wait a sec,” you turned to your laptop, downloading the attachment, “Oh, so you’ve done preparing your parts already?” you mumbled, scrolling through his part of the slides that he just proposed to add a week ago, “this is—”

“Good?” he interjected, grinning smugly.

“Yeah,” you nodded, giving him a quick smile — probably a first, he thought. 

“Well, you look very surprised I’m almost offended,” he propped his elbow against the table, his chin resting on his palm, “You must’ve thought there is nothing going on for me except for my looks huh?”

“And your wealth too, I might add,” you replied nonchalantly, typing away, “To be honest. I didn’t think you were going to do your part. In fact, I was so prepared to pull the all-nighters to pull off your parts in case you bail.”

“Wow,” he bemused, “You sure are colder and more tactless than you look. Thought we just needed some time but it’s still very business-like between us.”

“Well, I mean the only thing that holds us together is this project so -“

“So, let’s change that then,” he cut you off as he rose up, suddenly packing up your books and notes that were strewn across your table.

“Uh, what are you doing?” you looked up at him quizzically as he picked up your backpack from the ground and put the books and papers into your backpack as if it was his. 

“I want us to be closer,” he winked before slinging your backpack over his shoulder while carrying his own backpack over the other shoulder.

“It’s 3 AM,” you protested, trailing behind him as he marched for the door.

“So? You usually leave late from the library anyway.”

“Yeah, studying,” you emphasized, trying to snatch your backpack away from him but he was too quick in dodging you. With a triumphant smile, he walked in a backwards manner, “come on, just some late-night snacks and some chit-chat that’s not macroeconomics. Don’t you think I deserve just that much considering how good of a project partner I’ve been? Even Jungwon can’t do half as good of a job.”

“I’d rather you be one of those freeloading group mate then,” you folded your arms, annoyed.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he finally asked, head cocking to the side.

“I don’t.”

“So you like me?”

“I also don’t.”

“Ouch.”

“Just give me my bag back,” you extended your hand, beckoning him to return your backpack.

He stared at your extended hand for a few seconds before grasping it instead, “Not a chance.”

“Hey-“ you shrieked as he pulled you along and exited the library. You sighed, relenting, letting him drag you towards the corner of the street just outside campus where a few food stalls were still opened, “What would you like?”

“Wait...” you stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and amusement, “The Park Sunghoon eats at stalls?”

“What?" he teased, "You weren’t expecting a Michelin-starred restaurant were you?”

“Of course not. I’m not you,” you scoffed, shaking his grasp off of your hand, “I’m just surprised you’re not as out of touch as I thought you were.”

“Trust me, I’m full of surprises,” he winked.

You rolled your eyes though you immediately changed your expressions as you turned towards the seller, beaming, “Can I get 2 Bungeoppangs please? Thank you.”

“Make that 4,” he added, offering the lady a wad of bills, beating you to it, “Oh it’s on me — I mean I’m the one who dragged you so late at night.”

Not a fan of being indebted, especially not to this Golden spoon , you quickly slip your money into his pocket, “Oh please, I’d never let you have that pleasure.”

“That’s fine,” he clicked his tongue, “I’ll just keep on dragging you for midnight snacks until you let me treat you. Here you go,” he grinned as he handed you the paper bag containing your orders. You scoffed realizing that he had just trapped you.

“So,” he started, beckoning you to join him to sit at the stairwell nearby which was looking out towards the distant cityscape — its lights twinkling like stars, “since you’re so hell-bent in showing that you don't like me, would you mind enlightening me on what you honestly thought of me?”

You stared at him in confusion, wondering what he was planning up his sleeves this time. Wiggling his eyebrows, he reassured, “oh trust me, you can’t hurt me so shoot away.”

“Fine,” you shrugged, “I thought you were a good-for-nothing airhead who floats through life all thanks to winning the genetic lottery and daddy's money."

He snorted before pressing his tongue against the inside of one cheek, staring at you with a look that seemed either he was proud of you or he just didn’t believe how vile your words could be, “Wow, and I thought I was tactless. You’re worse.”

Truth to be told, that initial negative impression of Sunghoon that you had, have already begun eroding the more you interacted with him. Instead of the arrogant, good-for-nothing airhead that you pictured him to be, Sunghoon turned out to be a smart, diligent and an agreeable lad, making you feel like a total prick for thinking otherwise. Not that you want to admit that to him though. His self-ego was already so inflated as it is.  

“Don’t worry, this level of unbridled tactlessness is only reserved for those deserving of it — like you,” you plastered a smile before taking a bite of your food, surprised by how good it was.

“Well, it must have have hurt your pride to know that I am not just wealthy and handsome but also,” he paused for extra emphasis, “brainy and competent in, I dare say, everything.”

“You’re shameless,” you scoffed but the corner of your lips were uncontrollably lifting into an amused grin.

“Hey, being humble isn’t my thing,” he clicked his tongue.

“Yeah I mean, being humble isn’t on-brand for you. I guess some people are just born lucky to have the whole package.” 

Suddenly, with a slight glint in his eyes, he uttered in a low voice, “if it’s of any consolation, I do have a major weakness. Would you like to know it?”

You held his gaze, unsure of whether he was serious, he was flirting or he was messing around, “I am pretty sure there is a catch to that.”

“Of course, you’re a good economist so you’d know that there is no such thing as free lunch,” he grinned smugly, leaning in closer, his lips just inches away from your ear, “it would cost you your life.”

“Wouldn’t even be interested in it even if it is free,” you whispered back.

With a grin that was unreadable, he leaned back, propping his back with his hands on the ground behind him, "you're like the personafication of the Great Wall or something, so hard to break.”

You just gave him a slight smile before continuing to stare at the view ahead, not minding his words. Sunghoon, on the other hand, had his eyes on you. Thinking quite literally of how hard it was to break the invisible barrier between you two. Sure, you were not as prickly as you initially were but it has been almost a month and the pace at which it was all developing was too slow for him. Just then his phone buzzed as a text had just come in.

Sir. It has been done. I’ve coaxed the tourism committee to give the spot to your university's dance society. Had to double the amount offered though. -Mr. Han.

Sunghoon was going to ignore the text but then another thought dawn on him, I should kick everything up a notch, he thought, as he fired a quick reply to Mr. Han:

That's fine. Need you to do something else asap. Will call you soon.

Patience was, afterall, never part of his virtue.

“I’m sorry,” Sunoo cried out for the umpteenth time over the phone, “I know I promised that tonight would be my treat but the head of the dance team isn’t satisfied with our performance so he’s making us practice until dawn. AGAIN.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” you reassured, making your way down the sidewalk, past the bus stop, “this could be your time to shine. There might be entertainment companies there so you might get scouted. All the more reason to practice hard until dawn.”

“That would have made all the all-nighters worth it,” he sighed, “Anyways, alright I won’t hold you any longer or else you’ll be going home even later. Point is, get a taxi okay? Don’t walk all the way back. You heard the news lately.”

“You are worrying about the wrong person,” you sung, “alright then, I’m going to cross the street now. See you in class tomorrow!”

Oddly enough while it was only 12 AM, the streets were already so eerily empty tonight, the silence of which was deafening. In fact, even after having walked for almost 10 minutes by the main road, you have yet to pass by a single vehicle nor person and it was beginning to fill you with trepidation. Perhaps the rising number of missing cases were really starting to instil fear and paranoia amongst the townsfolk, you thought. 

While that has never deterred you from going home late or being alone since you were never the type to get easily scared, something felt awfully off tonight. Besides your neighbourhood resembling more and more like a ghost town the farther you walk, it was just too still, too quiet. When you reached the end of the alleyway that you usually use as a shortcut, you threw one last glance behind you, trying to make sure that no one had been following you. Thankfully, indeed no one had — filling you in with relief but making you feel stupid for being too paranoid. When you turn back around however, you almost bumped into a tall figure, all clad in black. “It’s awfully late to be walking all alone don’t you think?” he asked mockingly in a gritty voice.

Before you could even react however, his hand was already on your arm, his sharp nails digging into your skin. The next thing you knew he had dragged and yanked you to the side, into another darker alleyway where the dumpsters were. Pain shot all over you as you got hurled onto the hard gravelled path. Looming before you was the man, laughing deviously as he lowered himself. He was probably around 25, pale and gangly, with a rather sinister wide smile plastered over his face and an inhumane glint in his eyes like that of a cat's tapetum lucidum, glowing especially in the dark.

With adrenaline and fear now on overdrive, you sprang to your feet, ramming him out of the way with as much strength as you could muster, sending him tumbling backwards with a loud groan. Without sparing another second, you sprinted off, taking every turns you can take in the hopes that the non-linear path you had taken would have thrown him off your trails. For a moment it seemed to have worked for you did not see a hint of him when you looked back nor do you hear other footsteps beside yours.

You were in fact only a few meters away from the nearest exit when suddenly you felt someone grabbing you by the shoulder, pulling you with so much force to the side, before throwing you harshly against the cement wall. It was the maniac from earlier, still grinning like a Cheshire cat as if his lips had been permanently sewn to stretch that wide. With both hands on your collar, pressing hard against your neck, you can feel the air being squeezed out of your lungs as he was choking you, "I could've made it so painless but well - you decided to play around..."

You wanted to scream but with his hands pressed up on your throat, nothing came out. You thrashed wildly, hitting him wherever your hands could reach though nothing seemed to have worked. Gasping for air, you were so sure that you were going to die in a matter of seconds. Just then you saw another dark figure looming behind the maniac with his hand raised upwards, holdimg what seemed like a bat or a plank. Within seconds the bat or plank hit the maniac squarely on his back causing him to double down in pain. With his grip loosened, you fell harshly to the ground, the pain shooting everywhere but at least you were finally able to catch your breath. Though still light-headed from the lack of oxygen and still coughing and wheezing from being choked earlier, you spared no seconds to drag yourself away from the maniac.

You turned your attention to the other man, who was standing next to the maniac with the bat or plank still swinging in his hand as if he was deliberating on whether to deliver another blow to the maniac. But then instead, he turned towards you. While indeed he had saved you, your flight and fight response was still on overdrive and you backed away instinctively as he trudged up towards you.

"y/n, it's me."

You stopped retreating, recognizing the voice and the silhouette as he came closer.

"Sunghoon...?" you called out though still uncertain. Only when he lowered himself down to you level, his face catching the lighting from the other side, did you exhale a huge sigh of relief for indeed it was Sunghoon. Never had you ever been so relieved to see someone. "Sunghoon, how did-" you croaked but stopped as you noticed the maniac earlier had already gotten up and had started to sprint away. "the guy- the guy-" you stammered, voice hoarse.

Sunghoon cussed as he watched the man slowly disappear into the dark, "Just let him y/n. I can’t leave you alone here.”

“But—“ you stammered, as he helped you get up to your feet, “what if that man is behind all the disappearances? He might just move on to some other victim. We need to-”

“y/n,” he reassured, gently rubbing your shoulders as if comforting you, “Calm down okay? I hit him pretty hard on his back, I doubt he would continue tonight. I’ll also make sure to go straight to the police later alright? Come on.”

He draped your arm over the back of his neck while placing the other hand behind your back, trying to hold you steadily as you walked. While you tried to walk as normally as possible, the pain over your knee and hips grew with every step that you cannot help but wince.

"You're hurt," Sunghoon murmured, "Its' better if I carry you-"

“No,” you protested, “it’s okay, I can walk.”

“Your knee will bleed more with all the limping and hobbling,” he replied as a matter-of-factly. You looked down at your knee, only then realising that blood has streamed down your calves, staining your white socks red, “I’d piggyback you but you’d have to bend your knees and it would just hurt more so I’ll just carry you okay? Bear with me.” You suddenly feel his other hand behind your knees, the other wrapping itself over your back, before he pick you up in one effortless and swift swoop. It was embarrassing, you thought, but there was not much you can do.

Within a minute, you two finally got out of the dark alleyway as it opened up into a brightly-lit street, the corner where the 24-hour convenience store was. The harsh white fluourescent lights, which you have always hated, suddenly becoming a source of comfort and safety. He gently set you down on the bench just outside of the store, “I’ll go and buy you something to treat your wounds with alright? I’ll be quick, don’t worry. I can assure you, he won’t come back.”

You nodded weakly. Truth to be told, you didn’t want to be left alone. You were anxious that the man would just pop out and drag you again like he just did. Not that you said anything though. True to his words, Sunghoon appeared back not long after, running towards you with a plastic bag full of first aid kit items and some drinks, one of which he had taken out and opened up in advance for you, “Drink up first.”

You muttered a thanks, dawning it — not realising just how parched you were.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked as he watched you rummage to the plastic bag for the appropriate medication to apply.

“Had the misfortune to run into a crazed dude, that’s all,” you mumbled, taking out a bottle of alcohol disinfectant and some cotton swabs, then trying to open the seal of the former, “Thank you for earlier. Really thought I’d die.”

“Let me,” he offered, taking the bottle and swabs away from your hands before kneeling in front of you. You protested, telling him that you can do it yourself. He gave you a small smile, “your shaky hands indicate otherwise.”

You furrowed your brows, “no they’re not, lo-“ you grumbled bringing your hands up to show him. Unfortunately for you, Sunghoon was right, they were. Not to mention, you had scraped your palm pretty badly from the fall as well.

“As much as you try to put up an unfazed front, the body keeps score,” he muttered calmly as he gently apply the disinfectant on the cuts over your legs, “Don’t worry though. He won't reappear. Not when you’re with me out here.”

You winced as he moved on to apply the disinfectant on the big scrape over your knee, “Hold on yea? You took a really nasty fall with this one.”

As Sunghoon continued to patiently treat your wounds, you couldn't help but observe his every move and his every features — the only time you had ever actually properly looked at him. You realized then how large his hands were, how slender his fingers were and how meticulous and gentle every move and touch was as if you're glass and he was afraid to break you. Every now and then he would look up, meeting your gaze, giving you a quick reassuring smile that contrasts his usual smug grin.

Suddenly, you felt guilt creeping up. This was the guy whom you thought was an asshat. The guy that you, despite all that he had shown to prove otherwise, still had zero faith in. The guy that you refuse to give any time of the day except when necessary. Yet there he was, having saved you from death and as if that wasn't enough, was currently kneeling on the dirty pavement in his expensive get-up, just to tend to your cuts. It occured to you then that perhaps you should swallow your pride and accept the fact that you were the one who had made unfair judgements about Sunghoon. That your gut instincts were wrong. That he was indeed a good person, happen to be born with a golden spoon in his mouth.

Perhaps, you thought, you should also stop lying to yourself and admit that you have actually begun to not just not mind his presence around you, but actually enjoy it. That you were incredibly thankful and grateful that he was there right where and when you needed someone the most. Yet, steeped in pride and naturally unable to express your innermost emotions, all you could mutter was, “Your hands are freezing.”

He chuckled as he gazed up while holding your hand to apply a bandaid over the scrapes on your palm. With a gentle smile, one that is wide enough for you to notice that he had a dimple on his right cheek, he muttered, "well, yours aren't warm either."

For the first time ever, you did not find his smile to be annoying nor did you feel like smacking his hand away when it lingered too long on your skin.

Jay tiptoed across the wooden flooring that night, looking around to make sure no one caught him slipping in so late. After the number of missing persons cases, and of course after Sunghoon’s little stunts, Heeseung imposed some sort of hunting ban on them at least for a few weeks. Him sneaking around late would’ve earned him an earful from the elder considering how he is the most flamboyant and easy-to-tempt out of the bunch.

As he was about to take the stairs, he noticed the living room door, which was usually closed, ajar. The room was dark but through some momentary flashes of lightning outside, he noticed something suspicious on the floor in that room. He approached it slowly, noticing that they were empty blood bags which, as he followed, were leading up to Sunghoon, who was at the end of room, sitting on the ground with his upper body leaning against the couch. With his head thrown back against the seat cushion, Sunghoon looked almost lifeless had he not just opened his eyes to mere slits at the sound of Jay’s footsteps.

“DUDE! WHAT THE HELL!!!” Jay exclaimed, aggressively hitting the light switch in the room to turn it on, causing Sunghoon to groan over the sudden brightness and throw his arm over his eyes.

“You eat human blood for breakfast, what are you so startled about?” Sunghoon grumbled lethargically.

“I thought you got killed or something! This place looks like a crime scene! You look like a crime scene,” Jay complained, staring at him incredulously as he looked at all the emptied blood bags strewn beside Sunghoon’s body, “Were you starved or something?! I mean, look at the amount o— wait, did you take some of my supplies too?!”

Sunghoon scoffed, “I’ll repay you twice as much, don’t worry.”

“Forget about that,” Jay plopped himself on the couch, arms crossed, “I just hope that you have a good reason behind all of these uncivilised mess you’re creating.”

“Uncivilised?” Sunghoon chuckled drily, letting his arm fall to his side, eyes blankly staring on the ceiling, “Would have been even more uncivilised if I allow myself to lose it earlier.”

Jay rolled his eyes, “Hey, stop speaking in prose.”

Sunghoon sighed, “I almost lost it earlier. But I didn’t. And now, I’m paying the hefty price of suppressing it.” He swallowed thickly, the scent of your blood still so fresh in his mind. It was so enticing and intoxicating, he was starting to see red. Thank goodness, he had diligently been satiating himself daily with bagged blood. If not, he would have immediately lost it while tending to you. He planned on driving you back home but he knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand it any moment longer, especially not in such an enclosed space. So he sent his chauffeur to drive you home, telling you that he wanted to head to the police and quickly lodge the report before the maniac gets away far.

“Don’t tell me it’s that girl again?” Jay sighed — the silence of which just confirmed it.

“It’s weird though,” Sunghoon mumbled, “With all the blood I’ve drank tonight —“

“You still want hers?” Jay interjected, “Boy, I guess you’ve just found blood that is likely to be exactly your taste. You’re in trouble now — that hunger, if you don’t tend to, can fester in uglier ways. You got to-“

“Is it you again?” Heeseung suddenly barged into the room, his voice booming. Throwing a piece of shredded muddy black cloth on the ground, he glowered at Sunghoon, “the bloodless dead body in the river. Is it your doing?”

Sunghoon just sneered, knowing exactly who Heeseung was referring to, “that guy was the one causing ruckus as of late in this town, aren’t you glad that I caught him and put an end to him?”

“It could have been handled better by the elders. Who are you to take matters into your own hands instead?” Heeseung fumed, “Not that you did a good job anyway since you’ve drained him completely out of blood.”

“I know you didn’t kill him out of some noble reason Park Sunghoon,” Heeseung continued, lowering himself to Sunghoon’s level and grabbing a fistful of his collar, “You tempted him didn’t you? I heard it from Mr. Han. You told him about some girl being within the vicinity? All just so you can play hero for her so that you can tilt whatever game you’re playing with her in your favour, huh?”

“To be precise, I did not tell him that that girl was a meal,” Sunghoon emphasized, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “I told him to scare her, that I’d offer him blood bags in exchange. He was more than eager to take it up for he was a starving mess. But well, apparently he was that parched, he went rogue and attacked her for real. If you consider that too, wouldn’t you say that I have saved another fellow human then?”

Heeseung scoffed, pulling the younger by the collar towards him as he glared menacingly at him, something unusual for the doe-eyed eldest to sport, “I told you stop playing games, didn’t I?”

“Guys, please,” Jay interjected, noticing the tension in the air, afraid of what were to come next, “We’re like fossil-aged, way past the time to be brawling. Heeseung, let him go -- for tonight at least. He's out of it right now.”

Heeseung pushed Jay’s hand away, harshly letting go of Sunghoon’s collar, “One more reckless move and I’ll take that as a your death wish Sunghoon.”

“I know I should be happy that you’re getting close to the guy of every girls’ and boys’ dreams,” Sunoo sighed, gesticulating wildly as you two walked towards the library the next evening, “but I have a bad feeling about Sunghoon.”

“He isn’t actually that bad,” you muttered quietly causing Sunoo to stare at you in aghast, “Okay okay, what happened to y/n? Did she get swapped with a double?”

“Stop overreacting,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s just because the deadline is approaching that we are spending more time together. Pretty sure we’ll be back to strangers after this.”

“I sure hope so,” Sunoo emphasized snidely, eyes narrowing into mere slits as if he was judging if there was any grain of truth to what you had just said. You shook your head dismissively as you two reached the entrance of the library door, “Alright, here’s my stop. Have a good practice tonight Sunoo.”

“Will do,” he pressed his lips together, forming a tight-lipped smile, before suddenly holding on to your arm stopping you halfway from passing through the library main entrance, “Wait… Just… Be careful okay? I know being alone is dangerous but… I feel like he’s not exactly the best company either.”

There was genuine concern in Sunoo’s eyes and voice which confused you. He was not always this protective nor paranoid especially when he has always been the one egging you to go on dates and talk to guys. You were going to say something when you felt someone standing behind you. “Oh sorry-“ you apologised as you turned your head, thinking you might have blocked someone’s way. But it was none other than Sunghoon who had just wedged himself between your back and the door as if holding it for you. He looked down at you, beaming, his dimples peeking through, “Hi — I was getting worried since you haven’t showed up.”

Noticing the unnecessary proximity, Sunoo protectively pulled you slightly to the side as he scoffed, “Don’t be dramatic. It’s only what? 10 minutes past 8 PM?”

You gave Sunoo a quick glance, signalling him to stop acting so sassy for no reason but he just ignored you, choosing to shoot daggers at Sunghoon instead.

“Well, she is never late so my worries are justified,” Sunghoon calmly remarked, “even more so when she’s just had a run-in with a maniac yesterday.”

Sunoo chewed the inside of his lower lip in guilt. While he did feel guilty about it all day, offering to treat you to the most expensive restaurants in town, and even planning to march to the police station to demand quick action, you were quick to calm him down by reassuring him that you were completely alright. That the maniac had not hurt you. That all the cuts and bruises are merely from, you lied, having clumsily fell to the ground while running away and not because you got thrown to the ground. But now, the guilt was creeping back up. Especially with the way Sunghoon said it. Had this been any normal day, Sunoo would have definitely retorted a smart comeback at Sunghoon but the guilt lodged his throat up so he just stared away, turning to you instead, plastering a fake smile, “Well, I’ll go now then. Don’t go home too late and call me when you get home later yeah?”

You nodded, smiling back as a reassurance, “same to you Sunoo. Text me once you’re home.”

Sunghoon’s smile faltered seeing the genuine care you two shared. He hated seeing the way you softly beam at Sunoo, the way you gently speak to him, the way you two touch one another so casually.

He wanted to be in Sunoo’s place.

You two ended up staying until midnight at the library, too engrossed in building perfect arguments for your respective parts — one another sometimes taking on a contrarian role to find each others’ loopholes. This goes on since that day, eventually becoming the norm as of late: you and him alone in the library together — three odd combinations that no one would believe unless they see it with their own eyes. You two no longer sat apart, you two were always next to each other in the library. All the heated debates from past weeks had now evolved into productive ones. All the glares and sneers turned to genuine awe, nods and even laughter. All the snide remarks turned to playful banters. It was weird, you thought, how this had all turn out and how quickly it progressed between you two. 

“You were right, there were inconsistencies, I’ll fix it then,” he nodded, scribbling some points on his printed draft. 

“Sorry,” you muttered sheepishly, worried if you’d been too overcritical.

“Don’t be. Better to be pointed out by one another than by the professor don’t you think?”

You find your lips curling into a smile almost automatically, impressed at just how cool-headed he was. Usually you would have to be extra careful of being critical of your partners’ work lest they become offended nor defensive but Park Sunghoon was different. He does his job and not only that, if he indeed saw how valid your criticisms were, he willingly accept it and gladly revise it. Feeling your smile stretching wider than you would have liked, you turned away, your eyes landing on the big clock near the door, “Oh shit, it’s 4 AM.”

Sunghoon looked up nonchalantly, shrugging, “Well, the guard isn’t around to bark at us, might as well overstay.”

“Well, if he comes out, he’ll definitely do more than bark at us. The library should’ve been closed 2 hours ago!” You panicked, packing your things up. Sunghoon extended his hand over to yours, stopping you, “trust me. He won’t be around. For a little while at least.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Did you make a deal with him or something? Why are you always so confident about this?”

He grinned coyly, “Not exactly a deal but I am definitely sure that he won’t be coming around.”

You shook your head dismissively, slipping your hand off his grasp, “Whatever it is. It is late and I should head back soon.”

The smile on Sunghoon faltered, visibly disappointed but he followed suit anyway, packing up. As you two walked towards the exit, the guard was indeed nowhere to be found but it was something to be grateful for anyway especially when you have overstayed your time so you didn’t think much about it. 

“What are you doing?” you asked as you two were outside, noticing that Sunghoon was still walking beside you towards the direction of the road leading up to your area, instead of the other way where his car was usually parked. 

He stared back nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pockets, “walking you home duh.”

“Um don’t,” you stopped, “our places are like the opposite way.”

“As if I’d let you walk home alone after what happened the other day,” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“So you’d rather walk me back?” you raised your brows quizzically, “it’s going to be a 45 minute return journey for you to go back here.”

“I can take the taxi afterwards, or we can take the taxi now,” he shrugged, “Well, it will all be easy if you just swallow your pride and let me drive you back home but you were dead set on not wanting to ride in my car.”

You scoffed. Sometimes, talking with Sunghoon really felt like engaging in mind games — like he knows just how to frame the issue to make you feel bad or to make you pick the choice that would make him win. “Fine, I’ll save you the troubles then,” you heaved a huge exasperated sigh, “Just this once though.”

Sunghoon smirked, nodding and mouthing a ‘sure’, before he led you towards his G-Wagon.

“I can’t believe I have become another statistic,” you muttered to yourself as you entered his car.

“Of?”

“Of the girls that rides in Sunghoon’s car,” you grumbled, slightly struggling with the seatbelt when suddenly you saw his hand reaching over. You turned, about to protest, but was quickly shut up by how close his face was to yours with his body just mere inches away from yours. He pulled the seatbelt over you and as the seatbelt clicked, his eyes flitted away from the seatbelt to your eyes, darting momentarily to your lips before reverting, causing your heart to skip a beat, “You’re the first actually.”

Your eyebrows twitched in disbelief as he backed away, grinning smugly as if he knew the effect the move had on you. You cleared your throat, trying to sound unfazed, “with the amount of girls you’ve dated — you should’ve chose a better lie to tell me.”

“Believe it or not,” he shrugged while firing off the engine, “people usually want me more than I want them so I'd get driven around instead. That, or I'd get my chaffeur to drive me around using my family's usual chaffeured car."

“Still not having any faith in that,” you maintained, “but if it is true, then I don’t know if I should feel bad for ruining that clean streak or feel triumphant that I am the one ruining the clean streak.”

“It’s up to you,” he clicked his tongue, pressing on the gas pedal, “Let’s just say, if I wanted to. I could’ve called my chauffeur to drive us in the usual car or called up a private taxi.”

You stared at him, wondering what was he getting at. He gave you a quick glance as if trying to emphasise his point, “But I didn’t.”

It felt like he was trying to smooth talk his way to your head but you thought skeptically that he had no reason to so you decided to just ignore it, looking out of the window instead. While a few days have passed since that night, seeing the streets and alleyway where it happened always brought the terrifying memories back. You gulped, staring away immediately, squeezing your hands to calm yourself down. That apparently did not go unnoticed by Sunghoon, “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered immediately, trying to think of other things than what happened the other night.

“I guess you were still affected by it?” he asked. Suddenly you feel his free hand enveloping yours while the other stayed on the steering wheel. His hand was cold but somehow it still gave some form of comfort, “regardless of how you try to mask it, your body keeps score y/n.”

You stared down at the way his big hand enveloped both of yours, slightly irked by the fact that you let him and also slightly irked by how comforting and calming it felt. Despite that though, unlike the usual times when you would have definitely moved your hand away, this time you didn’t. Even when his hand was freezing cold to the point that it was quickly seeping any little warmth your hands had.

You guys finally reached your place in about 10 minutes time. You muttered a quick thanks, suddenly remembering that you had wanted to give him something as a token of gratitude after incident the other night. You deliberated for a long time on what to get this cocky, rich kid, thinking that whatever he really wanted you probably couldn’t afford. Noticing how he always drank Americano in campus, you decided to get him a one-month worth of coffee voucher from the campus cafe.

“Seriously?” he looked up from the voucher to you, eyebrows raising quizzically.

“What? Not enough?” You answered blankly, slightly worried. 

“Not that,” he sighed, “I just… I don’t need material things like that.”

“Thought this would be the best functional gift that won’t cost me my liver,” you said jokingly, “I mean, you drink Americano all the time, right?”

Yeah, because it’s so dark-coloured it hides any traces of blood I usually sneakily put in, he thought to himself when you asked again, “Well, anyway, I still need to thank you though so tell me what you want Sunghoon? Anything within moral bounds and within my tax bracket, that is.”

With an eyebrow twitch and a playful smirk that, by now, you are able to interpret as him having a rather cheeky idea in mind, he said, “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a while. How’s that as a token of appreciation instead?”

You paused, blinking confusedly. He raised his brows, “you live alone, you should know how to cook right? Unless of course, you’ve been living off meal replacements or deliveries.”

“No of course I know how to cook. I’m not rich to be able to conveniently live off deliveries” you replied dismissively, “but, really? Home-cooked meals? That’s uh-“

“You said anything I want,” he cut you off, “that’s all I want. Simple isn’t it? I didn’t ask for no Michelin-starred dinners nor a Balenciaga.”

You sighed, relenting, “Okay okay fine. I can’t promise that it will taste as nice as restaurants though. When do you want it? I’ll send it over to your place or something.”

“You can just cook it for me live,” he deadpanned.

“So you want to see me cook it too? You’re so demanding,” you grumbled.

“Better to eat it fresh, no? Plus we get to bond more,” he quipped, “Well, if you’re uncomfortable of having me in your place then you can do it at mine?”

“Dude, both are just as questionable,” you objected.

“I can hire a kitchen space then if you like,” he offered.

“Damn, golden spoon kids are really of a different breed altogether,” you scoffed, “fine, just this once. I guess, I can let you come over.”

You grimaced just after saying that. You’re a pretty closed-off person, preferring to set boundaries on things including your personal space like your home so having to let someone breach that, especially that someone being Sunghoon was such a blow to you. But he did save you, so you definitely did owe him big time. 

“If you’re not too tired, can I ask for it now?” He smirked. 

You raised your brows, looking at your watch, “It’s almost 5 AM now.”

“Yeah, we both haven’t had dinner,” he nodded as a matter-of-factly, “also I heard your stomach rumbled a few times earlier.”

“Oh shut up,” you chuckled, ruminating for a bit, “I guess. I mean, it’s Sunday now — so I can just sleep in in the morning.”

Hence, that was why Sunghoon was at your place at the crack of dawn, looking around your humble accommodation with stars in his eyes. “I don’t know whether to be offended or not by just how much in awe you are of my place considering how you live in a mansion,” you shook your head.

“Your place is so warm and cosy — and I mean it in the best way,” he replied, looking at the books that filled your shelves up to the brim, “my place is just cold and empty. Even when it’s designed and filled with everything anyone can possibly want.”

“First world problems huh?” You remarked sarcastically at him as you opened your fridge which you had thankfully stocked up yesterday. 

“You’re very well-read aren’t you,” he asked, his fingers tracing the spine of the books he knew well for he, too, loved reading during his spare time. In fact, he was already born when some of the classics which you have in your shelf were first printed. 

You shrugged, “just felt stupid most of the time so I have to constantly read up on things. I enjoy them too so it’s a win-win.”

He scoffed incredulously, “you’re one of the smartest person I’ve personally known, you shouldn’t put yourself down like that.”

Noticing you staring at him, he just smiled, wiggling his brows, “what?”

“You really need to drop all the sweet talks,” you shook your head disapprovingly as you switched on the stove, “it may work on others but not on me okay? Not when it comes from you.”

“They’re not sweet talks,” he gave you a quick playful glance before sitting on the stool near you, observing your every move, “so nothing to drop right?”

You exhaled sharply, deciding to ignore him again. He smiled to himself, enjoying the sight. Everything just felt so warm and cozy — literally and symbolically. It was a feeling he hadn't felt for a long time since every thing always felt too distant, too cold and too empty for him — be it places or people.

Obviously, being a vampire, food offers no satisfaction nor satiation at all so he never liked doing it. But he thought it was the perfect way for him to linger around you a little longer than usual, a perfect way to get a little deeper into your life which to him was still shrouded in so much mystery. Usually he would have to spike his food with blood just to get the eating part done and over with but with you, over stories, jokes, laughter and banters, he gobbled it up without, not even realizing that so much time had passed and that the sun have already risen.

“Let me,” Sunghoon muttered when you gathered the plates by the sink, about to wash it once you guys finished your meal. You shook your head, “no don’t worry about it.”

You then felt his body against your back, his hand reaching over to grab the dishes you were rinsing in your hand, his head leaning low towards your level. Suddenly becoming hyperaware of the way his chest was pressing against your back, you were forced to acquiesce, suddenly feeling shy, “Sure, just don’t break them.”

You scooted to the side, taking a nearby clean cloth to dry out the plates that he had just washed, “Wow, I’m surprised you know how to do the dishes.”

He chuckled drily, pressing on the dish soap dispenser, “it’s not rocket science. I know how to do the laundry too, would you like to see that?”

"No thanks," you shook your head dismissively, "Pretty sure other girls would die for a shot of that though."

“You should stop trying so hard you know,” he mumbled suddenly.

“Huh? At what? The project? We’re this close to-”

“No,” he deadpanned, “At keeping me at arm’s length.”

You gave him a momentary glance which he took as an affirmation so he continued as he dried his hand on a napkin nearby, “Can’t you see that maybe our fates are meant to intertwine? If it’s already fated, you can’t outrun it no matter how fast you run. So might as well just go with it.”

You didn’t reply to that immediately as what he had just said was indeed something that floated in your mind once or twice over the past few weeks. No matter how hard you try, especially given how you have a very risk-averse and rather preventative attitude, he was just always around that your efforts just end up futile. Sometimes you wonder if perhaps you are indeed destined to get closer to him, to be friends instead of just course mates? But then again, regardless of that and your gradually improving relations and perception of Sunghoon, you can never fully shake the nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach. That everything is just too good to be true that it almost feels like a set up. Like you’re a rat in a maze. 

“I’m not keeping you at arm’s length,” you finally said, "I just take a long time to warm up."

"Ages," he emphasized, "Thank God, I have eternity."

You scoffed thinking that he was being sarcastic when he had actually meant it literally that he had eternity.

“So we’re friends?” he asked, leaning against the counter next to you. You shrugged, “I guess?”

“Then would you let me crash on your couch?”

“You are really shameless aren’t you?” You scoffed. He chuckled as he walked towards the living room and plopped himself on the couch, “just until the sun’s up high. I’m on a food coma right now and I’m a bit sleep-deprived lately, I don't think I can drive safely.”

You opened your mouth to protest, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the thought but considering the risk of him driving while having no sleep and having just eaten made you think twice. You reluctantly agreed, “I guess. No funny business okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, before the usual smirk starts enveloping his lips, “For safety measures just lock your door alright?”

“You’re relentless,” you scoffed, throwing the cloth at him as you switched off the lights in the kitchen. “I’ll head to my room alright. Just lock the main door when you leave later. No need to inform me or anything.”

Already laying down on your tan couch, he flashed his thumbs up. He watched you walk past the hallway into your bedroom thinking just how far he had gotten just from saving you, from making you feel indebted. Should have done it way back, he thought to himself, would have saved some time.

Obviously, being a vampire, he would never get food-coma nor would he feel sleep-deprived so indeed they were all just excuses. Excuses to stay around longer. Unknowingly a smirk was enveloping his lips as he placed both hands under his head in a leisure manner. If only you knew just how much danger you were putting yourself in right now, he thought. The smirk faltered the longer he stared at your closed door, boring holes into it as he felt something within him brewing. Suddenly, the memory of just how intoxicatingly tempting your blood had smelled like resurfaced, causing his mouth to water. Such a perfect timing, he thought, you and him alone, in the dead of the dawn. No one to hear you scream, no one to help you. As such thoughts brew into the usual toxic mix, he can feel his throat drying up, suddenly becoming so parched, while his gums tingled — signs that the his fangs were unfolding into its full length. 

Shit, he thought, he was going to lose it soon. He immediately got off the couch, summoning every bit of strength and rationality he had to fight his carnal desires to not just break your door and attack you. In a frantic hurry, he left your apartment, got on his car and fired on the gas pedal as if the cops were after him. Jay must have been right, he thought, there must have been something about your blood that really piqued his senses since he has not even tasted it and yet this was how far and low it had driven him. He scoffed at himself, clutching the steering wheel.

That aside though, what is still mysterious to him was why he even stopped himself. Everything was falling into place so impeccably like he always wanted: he got your guards down and he got you to trust him — it would have been a perfect opportunity since it was at your own place too. Like inviting a lion to your own house, it would have been the ultimate “I told you so” to her. And yet, instead of doing just that, he ended up fighting every last bit of rationality and conscience back there, to not let his predatory self took over and lay a hand on you. 

Perhaps, he wanted to taunt you a little longer, he thought.

Or perhaps, he had grown to enjoy your company.

“Oh my God, that clicks!” Sunoo exclaimed, gasping as he shuffled through the wad of papers on his table, “look, it’s the same like what you saw! Tall guy, clad in all black, gangly, mid-20s, eerily wide smile, a disturbingly gritty voice, bony hands, and glowy-ish eyes!”

“I guess,” you shrugged, taking another bite of the matcha brownie that Sunoo just got you from the cafe beside the Press Society Club Room. You had some time to spare after your last seminar class so you decided to give your bestfriend a visit. That being said, instead of some meaningful catching-up, he was busy badgering you with questions about that night when you were attacked — bribing you with your favourite matcha brownie and coffee, “I mean — since you’ve gotten all these info from these witnesses, don’t you think the police are already on his tail investigating this or something?”

Ni-Ki, the other guy in the room who was busy toggling with his DSLR, scoffed, “If the police are even a fraction as useful, you wouldn’t end up running into that man at all because some of these witnesses have reported their encounters like as far as 2 months ago.”

Ni-Ki is Sunoo’s close friend, a polar opposite that he got quickly close to given their similar hobbies which made them members of the same clubs: Dance Society and Press Society. Ni-Ki is skinny and tall, with pouty lips, sharp eyes, and deep voice. He wasn’t the easiest to approach given how he has a rather intimidating resting face but whenever you bump into him, he had always been very cordial: greeting you first and engaging in conversations with you. You clicked your tongue, “shit, you’re right. So what are you guys planning then? I mean all these reports, the articles, the pictures — that’s not just prep for some 1/4 page feature.”

“Bingo,” Sunoo snapped his fingers, beaming proudly as he tapped onto the mountain of papers in front of him, “It will be the next hottest special article from us. After that scum tried to kill my best friend, best believe I won’t stay put.”

You gave Sunoo a small smile, one that shows how appreciative you were but also one that was slightly concerned by how ambitious it all was, “I mean not to doubt you two since you guys have co-authored some of the best articles ever written by the School’s paper but what could the school paper cover that hasn’t been in the official press? And like what could a school paper do with its limited exposure anyway? Wont you guys just be, I dont know, fear mongering?”

“I knew it, if anyone would raise these kind of questions, it would be my smart bestie,” Sunoo smirked, as if already expecting the question and already having the answers prepped, “First things first, the press have done a shoddy job at reporting these cases — like all the alarming facts were just glazed over, no connections were made, no alarms were sound — nothing. It was weird, it’s like they didn’t care or something.”

“If you ask me, I would think that both the police and the press were eating from the same hand this time,” Ni-Ki chimed in, eyebrows wiggling as he mouthed the word “corruption”.

“Anyways,” Sunoo continued, “as I was saying, basically we had to do a lot of digging because apparently not a lot of news covered the important details such as the autopsy report, God knows why. We found that some of these bodies are reported to be almost bloodless, with some odd cuts over their necks but even that wouldn’t have been enough to leak that much blood out of the human body. Even bizarrely, there are no traces of their blood around the area which then brings the assumption that this was a rather well-planned murder, not a spur of the moment one, because it is likely that the body has been taken elsewhere, drained of blood then dumped elsewhere. In other words, with more than one killings being like this, we are definitely not dealing with just any normal murderer."

“Sounds good,” you nodded in agreement, pondering over the papers sprawled over the counter, “You guys will also be putting a question mark on a story, it will definitely get people talking-“

Your phone suddenly rang. You stared at it quizzically, trying to figure out who the unregistered number belonged was but decided to just take it, “Hello? Who is this?”

“Not sure if I should feel offended that you don’t recognise my voice or that you’re not here right now when we’re supposed to meet?”

It was indeed a very familiar voice. You pored your head over who that voice could belonged to and who could you be meeting with at almost 7.30PM. “Oh shoot, right Sunghoon sorry. I’ll be right there in 5-10 minutes.”

It would actually be the last night that you and Sunghoon would be working together since the deadline of your work will be by 9AM tomorrow. All hunched up in the usual desk by the large windows of the East Wing in the library, you felt a hint of pensiveness at the thought. Working with Sunghoon, have after all been such a breeze: he was smart, accommodating and cooperative — everything you could ever want from a project partner. Not to mention, as much as you didn’t want to admit, what made your time with him a little bit enjoyable and memorable than you expected was the fact that he turned out to be a decent person. Full of wit, charm, playfulness and worldliness — which you never expect someone with a pretty and wealth privilege like his would ever possess.

Deeply concentrating in finalising your joint-work, you didn’t even realise that midnight had rolled in until your concentrations were abruptly halted by the guard roughly knocking both of your tables. You jumped in your seat, realizing that this had been the first time you had seen him in quite a while, “Sorry guys, didn’t you see the notice outside? We’re closing at 12.30 AM tonight due to some maintenance work. Go pack up now.”

You heaved an exasperated sigh as you reluctantly closed your laptop shut, “we were so close though.”

“We can continue some place else,” Sunghoon answered calmly as he packed his things up.

“You’re right,” you agreed as you slung your backpack over your shoulder and walked next to him down the aisle, “Do you know any cafe that closes late nearby?”

“Bars do,” he grinned as he propped the door open, beckoning you to pass, “I wasn’t thinking of cafes by the way.” 

Suddenly he grabbed the backpack that was loosely slung over your shoulder, slinging it over his instead, “I was thinking of my place.”

You paused, blinking quizzically at him, trying to process if you had heard wrongly.

“You didn’t hear wrongly,” he uttered as if he could read your mind, “Why? Are you scared?”

“I’d rather go to the bar.”

He snickered, “yeah right. Come on, my place is only 5 minutes away and our deadline is 9 AM tomorrow.”

“What about your housemates?”

“Not to brag,” he smirked, “but I was talking about my other house, my own personal apartment where I usually stay at if I need some time alone.”

You pondered as you trailed slowly behind him. Indeed, he has by then proven numerous times just how much of a decent person he was which meant that being alone with him in his place should not be an issue. That being said, you still have this nagging feeling deep seated within you that still seemed to be warning you to not let your guard down — to stay away. But then you thought about how you guys were like only a quarter away from being done with the project and that you had spent countless times alone with him during which nothing happened so you just chalked up such feeling into irrational paranoia, yet again. 

“I guess,” you acquiesced, “Just until we finish our work.”

Sunghoon’s apartment differed vastly from the bachelor pad he shared with his little clique. Located at the top floor of the most expensive apartment complex in the area, his penthouse which was designed in an industrial architecture style, was spacious and had a dark colour scheme throughout — almost monochromatic, giving off a rather clean and sleek look but a bit too dark and cold even for someone like you who had always gravitated towards darker colours schemes. 

“Okay, I mean I know you’re rich but this is just on a whole new level. Now I’m even more offended at the way you stare around my place in awe last time. You must have felt like a tourist — exploring how the average Joe lives on a student budget,” you blabbered, swivelling around slowly to take a good look at his lofty penthouse. Its curtains automatically drew open as you approach the floor-to-ceiling windows of the open space, revealing the glorious view of the city and a nearby river at night, “If I were you, I’d rather live here than that rowdy bachelor pad of yours with your little clique.”

“I overthink a lot so I need their rowdiness in my life to drown it.”

You looked at him beside you, detecting a slight sad undertone, “You have everything anyone could possibly want and you’re still overthinking things?”

“Oh trust me, not everything,” he turned towards you with a small smile, “would trade all I have for that one thing to be honest.”

“Is this the same with your weakness?” You raised your eyebrows, “the one you told me would cost my life?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a sly grin, “they’re kind of related. So? What do you say? Want to take up the offer?”

“No thanks,” you shook your head dismissively. Setting your backpack on the counter nearby, taking out your laptop and notes, “let’s get working, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Oh please, you can overstay all you want dear,” Sunghoon answered in a sing-song voice. You shot him a glare over the last word to which he just winked at. Sunghoon initially recommended that you two work in the study room or lounge room, where it would be more comfortable but you insisted to stay in the living room — actually feeling more comfortable in the open space area, closer to the main door, rather than anywhere deeper and isolated. You two immediately got immersed in your work, not realising that time flew by across all the debates, discussions, amendments, revisions and banters. Only after having amended and revised the paper almost a billionth time now did you guys finally run out of things to amend.

“Or maybe our brain is just too fried for this already,” you heaved a heavy sigh as your scrolled down the 15-page report, “Shall we?”

“After you, you’re the main Architect,” he gesticulated for you to press the submit button. You dismissed him, grabbing his hand, “Hey, I do love to play Sherlock but for this project, there ain’t no Watson. We are both  the main architect of it. We are both Sherlocks.” You assured, beaming as you placed his hand on the mouse and then yours on his, guiding the cursor to the ‘submit’ button through his hand and clicking it after you received his final nod.

“Okay…. Now I can just hibernate,” you heaved a huge sigh of relief as you leaned back against the couch with your head thrown back, eyes closed. He stared at you all slumped on the couch, finding himself smiling as if endeared. He plopped himself next to you, his body facing you while his head rest on his palm with his elbows propped against the head rest. Though his eyes immediately fixated itself on your exposed neck, it was also increasingly distracted by your face. At your lips to be precise, which were parted and looked plush, looking almost inviting. He swallowed thickly, feeling some sort of gravitational pull all of a sudden.

“Stop staring, I can feel you burning holes,” you grumbled lethargically. 

“You were, too,” he replied. You can hear his smirk from the tone of his voice. You opened your eyes, slightly startled as it immediately met his gaze. He was, as usual, unfazed, “At Jay’s party. You were gawking remember?”

“Okay first things first,” you straightened up and then turned to him, “I was not gawking nor snooping around. You were the one making out in a rather public space. You can’t blame me if I walk into you. I mean if you’re so shy about it, you should’ve made out in one of the rooms.”

“Did you like what you see?” He grinned slyly, “because you were staring for quite a long time.”

“I was not,” you retorted, “okay maybe I did stare for like just a second too long. But that wasn’t because of you guys making out — I was just thinking — “

“That Sunghoon bones the Cheer captain for grades?” he interjected so casually. 

“Exactly. You took the words straight out of my mouth,” you said dryly, “Are you a mind reader or something? How is it that you can always tell what I am going to say.”

He shrugged with a smug grin on his face, “I just have a long experience with a lot of people. That and an unhealthy liking for Psychology.”

“Ah, that explains your penchant for mind games.”

“Well, it takes two to tango,” he said, biting the smile that was blooming on his face, “you’re good at it too.”

You were going to reply him with something but suddenly you became hyperaware of the way he was staring into your eyes. While getting stared at by Sunghoon was nothing new to you, the way he just kept gazing into your eyes as if trying to probe the depth of your mind was starting to make you feel self-conscious. There was almost this dopey, dreamy and dazed look to it which Sunoo had always told you is a warning sign to look out for. It’s kind of the look of awe and if you let it linger for a second longer, that gaze would probably change into something else — one which just screams that they want to get in your pants, Sunoo explained once, earning him a loud smack on the back by yours truly. You gulped, eyes blinking nervously as you start to feel something shifting in the atmosphere. While you were sure that seducing you would be the last thing in that campus heartthrob’s mind, it did made you feel nervous so, while feigning nonchalance you rose up and start to pack, “well, since we’re done, I should get going.”

“You can just stay,” he prompted ever so casually — which should be unsurprising as he has probably said that to other girls like millions of times (or vice versa). Standing by the counter where your backpack was, you begun shoving your books and stationaries inside, mumbling “Don’t be silly. The sun will be up in about an hour and a half.”

“Exactly,” he emphasized. You feel him coming up behind you, his body just mere inches away from your back, making you slightly nervous, “stay until sunrise then. There are no buses at this hour and taxis would just rip you off.”

“In a place so luxurious like this, I’d sleep like a baby and end up missing my 2PM class later so it’s a hard pass,” you rambled, saying absolutely anything out of nervousness. You slung your backpack over your shoulders and turned around, ready to leave but he didn’t budge and when you were angling to walk past him, he extended his arm, resting his hand against the counter behind you, blocking you, “why the haste y/n? Anything wrong?”

You would have stuffed up another lie but you find yourself instantly silenced when you looked up at him, meeting his gaze that had by then changed into something more unnerving. Long gone were those soft gazes. Perhaps it was the fact that he towered over you and was looking down at you but his hooded gaze was so intense and almost domineering, slightly sultry too, that it felt almost invasive and unsettling.

Sunghoon however felt the opposite, if his expressions and body language hadn’t given that away already. While staring at you was nothing out of ordinary for him to do, perhaps the way your relationship had progressed made the feat all the more addictive — as if your eyes were hypnotic or something. As if it was an ocean and all he wanted was to swim in it. He didn’t even notice that a thunder had just struck outside for all he see was you.

“It’s the crack of dawn Sunghoon,” you tried to diffuse the situation, feeling the tension in the air getting heavier, “I don’t have the bandwidth for your Mind Games.”

“We can always cut the chase,” he drawled, gradually lowering his face down, inching closer to yours. You noticed his stare flitting from your eyes to your lips, then back again with his gaze multiplying in intensity each time. You suddenly feel his other free hand come up to your shoulders, grasping the strap of your bag.

“What are yo-“ you fumbled, about to shove his hand off but his other hand was quick enough to grab your hand away as the other pulled your bag strap down your arm, letting it drop to the floor. He then took a few steps closer towards you, forcing you to retreat back. “Sunghoon, stop it-“ you cautioned. There was no mistaking his intent now as he placed his hand on the counter behind you, resting on either side of your waist, completely trapping you.

“Your guard dog is always this close to you, why are you suddenly shy when it comes to me?” He egged.

It would be a lie to say you weren’t unnerved but you weren’t one to just easily show any sign of fear nor vulnerability so you curtly replied, "I thought you said you’re good in Psychology but you seem to not know the difference between shyness and disgust.” you replied curtly as your mind went on overdrive, piecing puzzles of your past, specifically all the moments with him that seemed too inorganic to be coincidence and too good to be true. From Jungwon getting hospitalised suddenly; him becoming your new project partner; the security guard being missing most of the time; the maniac; him saving you; and now, it all culminated, to this. You swallowed thickly, still not wanting to believe that he could be this devious and manipulative — that it’s all just you and your usual unreasonable cynicism.   

Sunghoon scoffed, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as his lips slowly curl into a wry grin before it all faltered. With a twitch of an eyebrow, he inched his face closer to your level, cautioning you in a low voice, “you should be careful with your mouth — you think you can win a game with the person who created the playing field in the first place?”

With that, it all then fell into place. You weren’t too cynical nor paranoid. Your gut feelings had indeed been right all along — as if it was warning you of the malice he is capable of, of the malice he will do to you. But it was too late for you have willingly walked into the tiger’s dent. “you call that a game? It was just child’s play,” you spat, “All of your orchestrations, all the effort — they’re not working. Because if they did, I’d buckle right now for you — like all the other girls. But that isn’t the case is it? All I feel right now is an ever-greater contempt and disgust for you, in case you’re socially inept to have not picked that up from my facial expressions and body language.”

You feel a sense of triumph when you see his smug grin faltered within seconds, eyebrows twitching as if your words had seared exactly where his pride was. But such sense of triumph was short-lived. You can see now that that apparently was not the wisest move for his eyes darkened in a mixture of vehemence and lust — a concoction of thoughts and feelings rarely felt in tandem for him. He hated your guts but the intensity of the vehemence was somehow fuelling his existing attraction towards you — it was like a vicious self-reinforcing spiral. 

Now, Sunghoon wasn’t one to make rash moves. He was always so cautious. Every moves are often well-calculated and schemed. But at that time, it didn’t matter anymore. All he saw was red and all he wanted right now was to shut you up — in a way you loathe the most, of course. Wrapping his hand behind your neck, he crashed his lips onto yours, the warmth of which was gradually enveloping all his senses, pushing it into new highs, making him hungry for more. You froze, unable to immediately register the sudden unexpected move he had pulled. Only when his other hand slipped itself on the small of your back to pull you even closer, leaving minimal to no spaces in between, did you finally snap out of it and react. While you tried to push him off with as much strength as you could muster, he did not budge at all. He was after all bigger than you and stronger so any push or punch you threw were futile against him.

If anything, it seemed to embolden him even more with his kiss growing more intense and fierce. All the frustrations, contempt and attraction that was building up to this moment, was fuelling his hunger and desire even more that it was almost carnal as he pushed his body up against you, pressing you uncomfortably against the countertop. With flight and fight response now on overdrive, you balled your hands into fist, hitting him wherever your hand could land which forced him to loosen his restrains on you as he tried to take your hands away. This gave you the opportunity to peel yourself away from his grasp especially since he was getting too delirious.

“you fucking prick.” you spat, managing to free yourself and immediately rushing to the other side, all breathless. You harshly wiped your throbbing lips with the back of your hand, feeling disgusted and slightly dazed.

Sunghoon smirked at the sight. You looked as ruined as he wished you to be: lipstick smudged, hair slightly dishevelled, and your shirt was sliding off one shoulder as the top button came undone in your struggle earlier. “You see, I’m not a patient person,” he took a step towards you, “but I’m glad I’ve dragged this whole thing out. The look of betrayal and disgust on your face — it’s so…. gratifying to see.” He chuckled menacingly, suddenly reminded of the look of disgust that you flashed at him at the night of the party.

Your brows knit in alarm and disgust. Sensing another danger coming as you see the hunger in his eyes emblazoning, you made a dash towards the main door. 

“I’m not done with you!” you hear him scream across the hall as you grasp the large handle of the door, feeling hopeful that you could make it as the sound of his voice indicated that he was still in the living room but to your horror, just within a few seconds of opening the door, it shut back close with such a force. You didn’t know how he had got to the door so fast but you can feel him behind you, his large hand resting just above the handle, preventing you from reopening it. You feel your breath hitch as you feel his breath on your ear, “I said I’m not done with you."

“Let. Go. You. Fucking. Scum.” you seethed. You were going to elbow him right in the ribs, which could’ve bought you time to escape, but unfortunately this was Sunghoon you were dealing with. Not only did he manage to block your blow but as he grasped your arm, he harshly spun you around, slamming your back hard against the wooden door — his large hands pinning yours against it. 

“Playtime’s over dear,” he drawled menacingly, his gaze now steely and cold — sending shivers down your spine. He thought he smelled something and he was right: your blood. He scoffed as his eyes zeroed into your lips where blood had formed on the crack at the centre of your lower lip. What a fucking perfect timing, he thought to himself, as he felt the hunger within him deepening.

Suddenly you can see an inhumane glint in his eyes as he tilted his head. It then struck you that it was the same glint that you saw from the maniac who had attacked you just a week prior — the glint of which, now you belatedly realized and remembered you first saw from Sunghoon that night during Jay’s party though you had made yourself believe at that time that it was merely your eyes playing tricks on you.

“I actually wanted to be gentle with you, to drag it all even slowly. You’ve made this hunt so enjoyable, I thought you deserve that. You know as a gift,” he said in a sing-song manner before hissing in a low voice, “but you’re making it fucking hard.”

You swallowed thickly, realising that no amount of strength you had put was enough to even shift his grasp over you by a bit. I’m done for, you thought in horror. As if that was not horrifying enough, you noticed how Sunghoon’s canines, which were already so pronounced to begin with, seemed to have grown longer. While busy scrutinising his changing features however, Sunghoon had moved to recapture your lips into yet another needy kiss, but now sloppier — reflecting the hunger that had grown so entrenched and urgent within. You feel his tongue brushing over your bottom lip, making you wince, before sending you thrashing harder when you feel him softly nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip. You turned your head away trying to free yourself and catch your breath but to your horror, Sunghoon had begun to trail open-mouthed kisses down your cheek then down your neck. You feel his tongue brushing against a particular spot on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His teeth then grazed your bare neck — the sharpness of which was alarming for a normal human teeth, “I’ll try to make it quick but let me tell you, it will only hurt more if you struggle,” he murmured and not even a second after, you feel a sudden prick of pain over the area. 

“What the fuck, Park s-“ you cussed, brows furrowed in a mixture of alarm and confusion, did he just bite me, you thought. You can feel something warm gliding down your neck. You didn't know what it was but suddenly you feel slightly light-headed. You wanted to yell and scream but your voice were all choked up, energy suddenly draining that you could not even push Sunghoon off even when he had let your arms go, his hands now grasping you by the back of your head and back while his head was buried even deeper into the crook of your neck, his body pushing you up against the door. Whatever was gliding down your neck had now begun dripping onto your right hand, as it was laying limp beside you. You summoned every last bit of strength to lift your hand to see what it was. To your horror, it was blood. But it was too late. Way too late. You had no strength left and your consciousness was hanging by a thread. Your visions were getting dimmer by the second and your senses were growing num. 

Suddenly it all seemed to click: the inhumane glint in his eyes; the otherworldly charm and ability to read mind; the Cheer Captain’s accident; Jungwon being hospitalised from sudden anaemia; him saving you from the maniac; his shrouded background — it all formed one big shocking picture that tied so well into the context of the rising cases of missing persons and bloodless murders beyond your town: vampires. Though it still sounded silly in your head, what is for certain is that Sunghoon happened to be one of them. But none of all that mattered because it was too late. You would probably die soon, you thought, and that meant the truth will die with you. 

Within the last moments of your consciousness, you realised that you had indeed been nothing but like a rat in a maze — stuck only to traverse paths he had designed for you. You weakly scoff at yourself. You should have trusted your gut feelings. The bad vibes you sensed — it wasn’t just paranoia nor prejudice, it was your inert self sensing danger. Just like how certain animals have overdeveloped their senses to better protect themselves from predators, your gut instincts was trying to do exactly that. But this time, you decided not to listen — the price of which you’re paying with your life.

A/N: YASSSS I’ve finally finished it phew. I hope you like this as much as I did. It took so long to make — sorry for that but I hope the wait is worth it. Please let me know how I’ve done with this one — so much effort has gone into this, I’m drained of any creative juices now. I’m sure you’ve seen millions of writers posting just how valuable comments are. Whether they're praising us or giving constructive feedbacks, they do so much for us. Basically just, feedbacks <3 while likes and reblogs are much appreciated too, it is the feedbacks that keeps us going — telling us that all the sleepless nights, hunched on the table were worth it. So with that, I shall bid you adieu. Hope you enjoyed it :3

 ▶︎ [update: Part 2 is up - click me !]

Masterlist 

---

sim jaeyun — brighter days inc.

— “you’ll wait for my love? “i waited for your love.”

pairing. fem!reader x sim jaeyun.

warnings. angst, my heaviest angst post yet tbh, fluff moments here & there, layla !!, lots of miscommunication, lots of crying and panicking moments, no happy ending :(

word count. 12.3k

synopsis. just how bad was the punishment of falling in love with sim jaeyun?

— a, note. i apologise in advance for this, i would like to point out that this was completely and fully inspired by the we can’t be friends music video along with the entire eternal sunshine album by ariana !! i only added minor details & scenes here and there but hope u enjoy ! <3 p.s !! this whole post is viewed better in dark mode !!

「 just wanna let this story die, and i’ll be alright. 」

The soft fabric of your shirt soothed your trembling fingers, gentle wind breezing past you once the bell of the door jingled ahead of you, indicating the arrival of another patient wretched with agony and their own pain.

Your vision danced between the walls, the countless photos that hung on the brick pillars claiming a guaranteed peace of mind with the eye catching and loud titles of “brighter days ahead!”, different posters inked with the participants’ positive reviews towards the operation that haunted the patients whom were anxiously sat next to you, some wiping their tears while others gazed hopelessly into the wooden floors, their legs shaking up and down the longer the nurse took to call their names.

You pulled your jacket closer to your chest, in hopes of it protecting you from the words printed onto the paper in front of you, you had read the sentences over a hundred times by now yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to fully accept them.

You have given extensive thought behind your decision and give “Brighter Days Inc.” the exclusive permission to remove this person completely from your memory:

— ☐ yes | ☐ no

Closing your eyes multiple times while chanting “please let me wake up” was deemed futile, you couldn’t bring yourself to face the reality of the situation you had put yourself in. Though you had your reasons, countless of them. You had every right to sit in the waiting room for this clinic, yet you still couldn’t gather up the courage to fully accept the weight of the truth.

The great weight of the truth that weighed heavily on your shoulders, you knew this was the correct decision. You knew you weren’t physically affecting anyone by doing this, you practically weren’t going to hurt after this, yet your actions still hurt the present you, the one who was able to sense a thin veil of tears forming along her waterline for the nth time since you stepped foot into this clinic.

And you were doing this to save her from the pain, from the heartbreak you had been suffering through. The harsh wood of the board felt hurtful against your skin, the piece of wood agonisingly heavy atop your fingertips, your hand placed the pen in your lap before it instinctively moved towards your neck, caressing the special pine cone necklace that adorned your chest.

The feeling of the pendant beneath your touch felt gut wrenching, your whole being freezing as the sudden sharp edges grazed your skin, the pendant that held so many great memories to you that you hoped would comfort you for the last time felt like the thorns of a rose splitting your fingertips.

It was the sudden sharp dig of the edge of the pine that reminded you of a precious memory, one of the most special days in your life when your two favourite people walked into it.

Your foot sunk deeply into the snow beneath you, the wind a cold breeze blowing against your blushed face, your nose a distinct red shade as you sniffed due to the cold weather, hands digging further into your warm pockets to allow the blood to rush back to your frozen fingertips.

The breath turned into a glowing mist ahead of your eyes as it tumbled past your lips, you smiled softly at the sound of your best friend announcing her departure to collect more wood for the fireplace the two of you had wanted to create, you turned your head to the side to locate her small figure slowly disappearing into the slight fog that started to form a few minutes before the two of you had arrived to the small forest.

You took notice of how heavy the snow was, the ground a vast white that glittered with the sunrays, the sudden urge to lay on the floor that appeared as faux clouds and cotton overcame your senses and before you could rethink your decisions, you were already surrounded by the comforting cold of the snow hugging your every limb and every inch of your body.

Memories of your childhood flashed through your eyes, the happy moments that were filled with laughter exchanged between you and your friend as the two of you made snow angels, joyful giggles flew in the air around you once you both stood up to compare the shapes to one another and chuckle at the ridiculous outcomes.

Before you could fully indulge yourself in the memory, you felt a foreign object pressing against your foot, your eyes shot downwards to the sight of a dark circular item— a pine cone?

Your heartbeat unexpectedly picked up its pace, was there someone around? You weren’t in an area that had pine trees around them, they were atleast a few miles away from you.

Loud rustling reached your ears from ahead, what sounded like a person quickly walking— in an abnormally fast way that made you prepare yourself for the appearance of any random person, your senses heightening at the possible danger awaiting, the shadow slowly appeared in front of the fog, a really short one that confused you.

Once the mist finally had dispersed, revealing the last outcome you had been expecting— an adorable puppy that jumped its way through the snow, you stared at the shimmering fur that had gotten covered with small bits of the sparkling snow, the puppy barked at you in excitement, their tail swaying behind them in the snow while their shining eyes studied your face.

Your hands held onto the pine cone, a smile stretching out on your face once you noticed that the puppy was waiting for you to return the item, sitting in front of you patiently in a well behaved manner, a clear indication of how attentive and careful their owner is.

“Is this yours, hm?” You questioned, voice playful and low in fear of possibly disturbing the overly excited puppy who only barked in delight at your question, and as your hand was reaching forward to return the beloved pine cone, you and the sweet puppy’s ears picked up the distressed yells a large distance away.

The puppy turned its body towards the direction it came from, breathing the cold air in before barking countless times as if to signal their location and on cue the rushed footsteps that dug into the snow approached your figures closer.

“There you are, Layla.” A young boy appeared from between the twinkling mist, his features sharp and eye catching the closer he walked towards both of you, a charming smile etching its way onto his chiseled face at the sight of his beloved dog, “I was getting worried, pretty girl.” He breathed out in relief before finally noticing your presence.

His back suddenly straightened, shoulders pulling back while his eyes widened before the prettiest pink you’ve ever seen dusted his ears and cheeks, “oh hi.” He breathed out shyly, he could feel his heartbeat drumming in his ears as the last thing he was expecting to find Layla next to was a gorgeous girl.

You couldn’t help the quickened thump of your own heart either, the appearance of this young guy that was clad in a large dark coat, black pants along with a matching hat that revealed small peaks of his dark brown hair had your mind reeling, he was undeniably handsome.

“hello.” You whispered back, instinctively holding the pine cone towards your chest as holding eye contact with the beautiful man only made your body buzz further with excitement and nervousness, the guy also losing his internal battle with the possibility of facing you as his eyes had only been following his dog’s moving tail in hopes of calming his own nerves down.

The said puppy’s gaze danced between her owner and the new friend, unfamiliar with her owner’s sudden shy side appearing in front of a potential friend making her suspicions arise, and the moment she was about to bark in the direction of her owner once again, the guy spoke out.

“Did she tackle you onto the floor?” He asked, tone laced with concern at the realisation of your position on the snow while you held the pine cone in your hand, “no!” You quickly denied once you lifted your head and saw his worried expression, thousands of apologies disappeared from his tongue at your words and he couldn’t help but breathe another sigh of relief, “I’m actually making… snow angels.” Your voice had dropped a few octaves towards the end.

Quieting your own words to hide them from the handsome guy that you prayed wouldn’t make fun of you for your childish behaviour from your first ever encounter, you were preparing yourself for the worst reaction to slap you across the face and for his laughter to reach your ears yet— “oh I love snow angels!” His excited voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You turned to face him again, to see the genuine excitement and fondness lacing his face before patting the snow next to you, a warm smile gracing your features that made the unknown boy’s heart to leap in his chest, “come join me!”

The loud ring of the bell harshly pulled you out of the sweet memory into the reality you had been dreading, all of your senses returning to the present made a sinking feeling take over your heart, by the time you leave this place you won’t be able to remember this precious memory.

Your hand instinctively wrapped around the pine cone, in attempt to protect and shield it from the possibility of disappearing, the idea of one of the most precious days of your life dissipating from your memory lane made your shoulders sink further, the anxious feeling of pure unease settled deeply into your bones, and before you were able to prepare yourself further, you felt your throat closing up.

And as if your own body had turned its back towards you, your gaze had shifted beneath the cursed words to the bottom of the paper, where a clear and bold line awaited your pen to grace upon it.

signature: ________

Your vision then travelled towards the boxes, the finality of your decision settling into your limbs when your hand finally moved from your necklace to hold onto the pen again, and with a heavy heart along with a new veil of tears aligning your eyes, you finally allowed the first drop of ink to land on the paper.

☒ yes | ☐ no

The wind around you turned colder, it felt as if the breeze was scolding you for such decisions, the guilt by now had started to eat you up alive, tainting your brain and choking you up on your own unshed tears, you tried to breathe in deeply, attempting to calm your heaving chest down as with each passing second you felt your lungs constricting further.

“Miss, are you ready?” The nurse had suddenly appeared next to you, caring and worried eyes scanning your shaky figure on the seat, knuckles white around the wooden board that held your signature and confirmation for the procedure, your head lowered in shame of the sight of your tears being revealed, though all the hurt was evident in your body language.

“This way, miss.” She quickly guided you towards the office, your hand reached out to carry the box next to you, the cardboard that contained all of your memories that were stuffed into items, her hand reached out to hold the trembling board from your weak one while the other hovered around your lower back, bringing an odd sense of comfort for you as your feet walked you towards your own heartbreak.

The walls of the office appeared cold to the touch, the solid floor beneath you brought the aura of seriousness for you, almost as if awakening you from your hurtful thoughts to the reality of the situation, there was no turning back now. Then with each step that you took towards the chair, memories of this morning took over your mind.

Layla, your precious puppy sat ahead of your crouched figure in front of the bed, you sat atop the mattress that felt so unwelcoming, so foreign to you, as if you hadn’t slept multiple times between the same sheets with your love before.

Your puppy was cautious, big shining eyes studying every tear drop that ascended down the curve of your cheekbone, her own body slouching with each sob that wrecked through your body, “I’m sorry.” The yellow light from your bedside table casted a soft glow on both of your small figures, Layla reached towards you, one of her paws landing besides you on the bed as she lifted herself up while the other was placed gently against your leg.

“I can’t continue staying here, baby.” You explained to her, with each break in your voice her ears dropped lower, the sadness and confusion evident all over her adorable face, long gone was the look of excitement and pure love that painted her face whenever she saw you, as if she was able to understand your words she pushed her fluffy body towards you more.

“I can’t be with you, or jaeyun anymore.” You whispered, sweaty and cold palms reached out towards her small face, her golden fur comforting you as it brushed against your skin, you allowed her loving presence to curtain over the overwhelming sense of fright that your stomach was unable to digest, her familiar scent coating your senses bringing a feeling of ease into your panicked state.

“I love you so much.” You whispered to your little cupid, the one who had brought you together with your first true love. The one who had unknowingly brought so much happiness and joy to your dull life with her and her father’s presence.

“Are you ready, miss?” The doctor called out, dragging you out from the reality that only existed in your head now, a cloud of doom now hovered above your head as there was no space to return back to, this was it. That was your last time with Layla, ever.

The pill of the reminder suddenly seemed to large to swallow, the thought of an eternal separation from your beloved little cupid felt agonising to you, the tightening in your chest worsened, your fingers dug into your own palm to cause the tiniest bit of satisfaction when the pain travelled throughout your nerves, you deserved this.

You had known this was the correct decision a long time ago, this was the only way you had been able to save yourself but god how could you be so selfish at the same time? How could you leave two very important people behind you and live in eternal bliss? You heart began to thunder against your ribs, each thump begging you to return, to turn back on your footsteps and go back home.

To return to your love, to your small family, to endure the pain and the sting of the knowledge that jaeyun would never view you the way you had done.

To return to your angel, the one who sat by the door with her tail swaying behind her excitedly at the sight of the door opening, in hopes of a possible walk with her best friend, then her tail suddenly paused atop the wooden floor while her pointy and excited ears dropped, breaking your heart when you crouched down to kiss her head for the final time, in hopes of your feelings conveying to her through the loving contact, atleast for the last time.

You knew the love you held for him had to be dissipated. Though the pure, innocent adoration and devotion your heart carried for him didn’t deserve to be gone. Yet it wasn’t worth putting Jaeyun through possible pain and suffering.

If only you had known from the start that this was the consequence of your actions of inviting Jaeyun to create snow angels with you on that morning would lead you to the punishment of falling in love with Jaeyun, you would’ve never stepped foot into the snow that day.

The doctor held your hand gently, his eyes held nothing but sympathy and pity for you, your fingers pale and shaky in his hold as he placed the small device on your index finger, the pulse reader instantly showing your quickened heartbeat on the screen, “the procedure is going to be a quick and painless one…” the doctor’s words echoed throughout your eardrums, each word drifting off from one ear to the other as your vision was stuck on the numbers constantly picking up.

As if a chain had been tightened around your neck, your throat closed up further, you suppressed every sob that threatened to escape from you, your feet had gotten numb on the chair at some point while you shut your eyes with reassuring words replaying in your head in attempts to soothe yourself, yet each one was being repeated atop of an image of a smiling jaeyun behind your closed eyes.

The nurse behind you had brought the two iron pieces closer to your temples, each one glowing with a red light, indicating the disconnection while they approached your skin, and once both pieces were attached to you as if they were pieces of magnets, your heart only sunk further in your body.

The doctor exchanged incoherent words with the nurse that your ears weren’t able to comprehend, your senses only picking up the constant beeping of the monitor, each beat picked up its speed, symbolising how your heart was beating rapidly at the thought of your one and only love, at the thought of losing him entirely in less than a few minutes.

Your eyes then landed on the screen besides you, blue lights blinding your sight as you took in the multiple tabs open on the screen with “generating link” as the largest one, the percentage increased quickly, each number made your breath turn shorter as the gravity was finally settling in, the small sting that you felt on the sides of your head was incomparable to the ache of your heart, still filled with so much useless hope after all these months.

“Are you ready?” The doctor asked, a consoling smile etched onto his features, you nodded quickly, eager to get the procedure done with now before your weak heart convinced you to run outside of this clinic and into the arms of the man you fell in love with.

“Alright then.. we should be starting…” the doctor’s voice slowly disappeared, his words gradually faded away from you as your eyes remained shut while the machine forced you to a trip down your beloved memory lane, your memory path that was dedicated for sim jaeyun only.

The first memory you had shared with him after your first encounter played in front of your closed eyes, you remembered this one in a crystal clear way, the sight of you and Jaeyun walking hand in hand was imprinted onto the back of your eyelids, the familiar sight making your heart jump into your throat.

“I’m gonna win you the teddy bear!” Jaeyun shouted excitedly as he walked, his grip on your hand firm yet gentle while he made his way through the crowd in the carnival, rushing towards the claw machine quickly, bumping into random people every few seconds making you laugh at his enthusiasm, unaware of jaeyun’s heart thundering in his chest at the sound of your laughter.

“You really don’t have to, Jake.” You rushed besides him and the second the baby blue and pink lights of the machine landed on your smiling face he felt his breath hitching in his throat, your shining eyes presenting as windows to your excitement and pure joy you felt besides him made his heart leap in his chest, “but i want to.” he breathed out gently, mesmerised besides your distracted frame.

your eyes studied the glass window curiously, jaeyun was confused as to why he could tell exactly when your eyes landed on the teddy bear he mentioned, confused as to why he was able to study all of your expressions so well so soon, to why they mattered and intrigued him so much, surely the fleeing thought of cradling your face gently into his arms was an intrusive one, and totally not because of his own feelings and urge to do so, right?

his hands reached out to push his coin into the slot before reaching towards the small handle, his fingers buzzed with excitement and anxiety, the need to win this teddy bear for you chanting throughout his mind as he lowered the claw onto the fluffy toy, and once the iron claws wrapped around the bear, your hand sneaked its way between both of your figures to lace with his fingers, a soft squeeze of encouragement that made the boy’s heart thump needily.

“You got it, jake!” you beamed from besides him, you quickly held the fluffy toy in your arms, hugging the precious teddy close to you, the sight making jake’s world slow down its rotation, his heart jumping into his throat as he took in the sight of your happy expression, your sweet and thankful words falling onto his ear before they travelled out the other, he was hypnotised, your happiness casting a spell on him effortlessly.

“Jaeyun..” he suddenly breathed out, snapping back into reality with a soft, loving smiling permanently etching its way onto his face, “hmm?” You questioned, moving your sparkling eyes from the toy to his handsome face, his sweet grin made rose dust along your cheeks, he reached out to hold your hand before he spoke out again, “call me jaeyun.”

“Okay, jaeyun.” You chuckled affectionately at him, one hand intertwined with his slender fingers while the other held the teddy close to your heart, “what are you going to name it?” His eyes dropped back onto the teddy, quickly switching the topic as his heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding the longer he drowned in the ocean of your eyes.

“Jakey.” You smiled at the sight of his eyes widening, eyebrows lifting as he audibly laughed, the sound ringing like melodies in your ears. The view of him blushing and laughing under the stars becoming your favourite in that instant as everything else around you blurred and your sole focus was on him and only him.

“Let’s take you and Jakey to the ferris wheel then.” He joked before walking towards the said ride, fingers still laced with yours as he pulled your shy figure gently to follow him throughout the crowd.

And suddenly with a mere blink you were stuck in the middle of moving bodies, one hand unbearably cold while the other held onto a teddy, confusion laced your expression as the lights of the ferris wheel glowed ahead of you, why were you here in the first place?

Just like that, Jaeyun disappeared from a precious memory that belonged to you.

Your surroundings in front of the ferris wheel darkened, a small circle of light engulfing you before your dissociated out from the memory, you had your eyes closed shut, not daring to open them when all you could hear was the murmurs of the doctor and the nurse confirming the removal in the first memory.

All you could detect was the consistent sinking and pain aching in your heart, the dizziness in your head as you altered your memories and forcefully removed the only person who you ever truly loved in your life, the agony from the thought so great that it allowed new streaks of tears to decorate your skin.

And as you let out another shaky breath, you were pushed into another memory.

The harsh breeze of the wind grazed jaeyun’s skin while his teeth chattered slightly at the icy stabs along his arms, he quickly moved from the sidewalk to the empty road that accompanied the ray of sunlight courtesy to the shorter buildings next to it.

His shoulders relaxed at the warmth that travelled his system, his fingers didn’t feel like they were about to fall off anymore the longer he kept them pushed into his pockets under the sun, he relished in the vast difference between the cold breeze and the warm sunlight, a weird sense of soothe scurrying into his mind.

The comparison was awfully familiar, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it reminded him of.

Nonetheless he continued walking, making the final turn that allowed the sight of his house to enter his line of vision, his insides buzzed with worry and excitement at seeing you again, your appearance always brought him solace especially when he walked into the view of you playing with Layla happily in the living room.

Yet whenever he remembered the position both of you were stuck in regarding your importance in his life, his mind got jumbled with negativity and worry again.

But he was determined that tonight was going to make a difference.

Especially with the apology he had spent days memorising, his finger brushed against the small box in his pocket that brought an unexpected but welcomed wave of positivity for him, it was the first time that he felt so confident in himself with something that involved both of you.

The slight graze of the velvet against his skin reminded him of the way your skin felt against his, the sunlight that glowed atop his honey skin beautifully reminded him of the warmth your love provided for him, oh how he adored you.

And there was jaeyun, finally walking towards his door with a pep in his step, his chest feeling ridiculously lighter while the blood rushed to his face at the thought of you in front of his eyes.

His shaky fingers wrapped around the handle before pushing the large piece of wood, layla instantly greeting him at the door with a welcoming woof of her own, making him smile widely.

“Hello my princess,” he spoke with a soft voice, kneeling down to pet her after closing the door behind him, all worrisome thoughts disappearing from his brain the second her soft fur nuzzled against his palms, he chuckled at all of her licks against his cheeks, turning his head as he giggled and unknowingly seeing your missing shoes on the floor.

Confusion wrapped around his head as a weird, unnerving emotion settled into his stomach, he quickly looked around the living room for any sight of you only to be left further confused since you hadn’t told him about leaving the house today.

“Is she not home?” He questioned layla, his glossy eyes returning to the puppy who visibly lost all of her enthusiasm, quieting down and only licking at his palm in hopes of bringing some sort of comfort to her owner the longer he desperately searched for any sign of you.

“It’s alright,” he walked towards the living room, a sudden wave of dizziness crawling its way to his conscious, he involuntarily closed his eyes at the unexpected pain while his feet quickly led him towards the couch with a worried layla trailing behind him, “she’ll come back.” He whispered, comforting himself while his hands reached to hold onto his head.

And before he could realise, he laid onto the soft fabric of his couch as a wave of sleep took over him while his consciousness drifted. Unbeknownst to him, that would’ve been the last time he would remember you.

「 i don’t wanna tip toe but i don’t wanna hide. 」

The doctor’s hands paced around his instruments panically, your soft sniffles ringing in both his and the nurse’s ears as their heart broke for the nth time that day at the sight of the memory on the screen of their computer, the memory that held an immense amount of pain as the only thing you could focus on in that moment was the view of jaeyun sitting down next to a random girl, his arm wrapped around her shoulders while she turned her head to the side to quickly peck his jaw.

“Is that not.. jake?” Your friend asked from besides you, her eyes widening at the sight of the guy who captured your heart huddled next to an unknown girl by a cafe’s window, the view inevitably catching your gaze too as your brain almost shut down at that moment.

“It is.” You whispered in confirmation, the cobbled stone beneath your feet glued you atop of it while your world slowed down, just like your first encounter— you felt everything around you slowly dissolve till your sole focus was on jaeyun with a random woman.

You friend thankfully picked up your irregular breathing, and she was sure if she had listened close enough she would’ve also been able to hear the sound of your heart shattering into countless pieces while your face was an open window to your emotions.

The feeling of your stomach sinking completely brought you back into reality, the situation was laughable really, just a few weeks ago he seemed too shy to even hold your hand yet here he was now with his arm around another woman.

He might’ve not been able to hold eye contact with you just a few weeks ago, but right now he was able to laugh at the top of his lungs at what looked like a joke the woman said.

“Let’s go.” Your friend sternly announced, holding your hand the second she noticed your eyes swelling up with tears and quickly pulled you to walk into a different alleyway while jaeyun slowly disappeared in the background, leaving the random woman to sit alone in your memory before you quickly tumbled into another one.

Your vision began to slowly clear, another memory opening up ahead of you as you felt yourself getting lost in your emotions regarding this whole procedure.

The aroma of the coffee was pungent in the living room, wafting through the air accompanied by the sweet scent of cinnamon, Layla’s sweet coos and quiet noises of approval and support kept you company and sane after witnessing the man your heart thrummed for wrapped up in the arms of another woman.

Due to the unending conflict and doubts eating away at your mind, resulting in a very upset you and a worried Layla to walk around the house to distract yourself, and the perfect distraction did you find when your feet dragged you into the kitchen.

“I guess it’s just me and you.” Expressing yourself to Layla had always been something that came very easily to you, she was your closest friend at the moment after all. Always by your side to comfort you whether it was by cuddling you with your tears landing like rain drops on her soft fur till you fell asleep or by urging you to play with her and get your mind off her dad.

And right as you were about to move the few pastries from the tray onto the plate on the counter, you and Layla’s ears picked up the familiar and dreadful sound of the door being opened, announcing Jake’s arrival with the loud creak of the wood once he pushed it forward.

As expected, the air that carried the dizzying scent of your pastry was suddenly filled with tension. As if each golden particle of the sweets that travelled through the air while carrying your love transformed into a harsh droplet of ice, the atmosphere further thickening uncomfortably when the boy walked inside of the kitchen to the sight of you in front of the counter with your puppy nuzzling to your leg.

“That smells amazing..” he muttered, feeling shy and small when faced with your stiff back, and he knew he deserved the treatment that you had for him, he knew that you had seen him with someone else. Yet he didn’t have the heart to even think about bringing up that conversation, deciding by his own that stuffing the confrontation into a small box and pushing it far away to a corner in his mind was for the best now.

“Thank you.” Your response was curt, almost monotone with the way you tried your best to not have whatever conversation between you two last longer, his presence alone was suffocating enough for you, you didn’t have the heart to face him.

And jaeyun of course noticed all of this, he noticed the way your back was still faced towards him. A clear and painfully obvious contrast from the way you used to greet him with a loving hug and sometimes even a sweet, shy kiss to his cheek if you were really in the mood for it. The memories of those adoring welcomes will always eat away at his conscience, a constant reminder of what he lost.

But was jaeyun going to ask you to talk with him so both of you could finally address the invisible tornado of unspoken emotions in the room? Of course no.

“I was wondering if you…” he trailed off, voice quiet and almost hesitant in approaching you, and his doubts began to gnaw at his heart when your shoulders tensed further, his anxiety made his tone even more jittery when he continued “want to spend some time with me..?” The final syllable was a mere whisper.

Jaeyun felt the distance between you both panicking, he’s never felt you so far away and unreachable for him even though he knew the reason but his fear of rejection and possible failure was overpowering his logical idea of actually hearing your side and confessing his own thoughts, deciding alone for both of you that the best approach to this situation was not acknowledging it in the first place.

“It snowed yesterday, you know.” He pushed his coldly sweaty hands into the pocket of his sweatpants, he could unwillingly hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his frame was apprehensive as he kept switching his weight from one foot to another while awaiting for your answer, fearful from you declining his offer before he even finished off, “so.. wanna make snow angels?”

He let himself loose, letting go from all of his previous uncertainty and revealing a sweet smile when you finally turned around to face him, a ghost of a grin on your features that never failed to set his chest on fire and make his mind reel, a simple “okay.” had jaeyun was over the moon.

Even if Jaeyun was undeserving of your acceptance to his offer, even if this whole action will have a returning moment that will bite you both deeply but in that specific second the need to be wrapped in each other’s warmth surpassed any other feeling you both could have thought of.

And after minutes of being avoidant, hours of steering away from the unavowed storm of words that needed to be exchanged between your two souls to hopefully ignite some sort of hope for your love, after a day full of your eternal bliss in ignorance where you two played into the parts of loving partners that you had formed in your head that was far, way too far from your reality.

You found yourself tangled beneath the satin sheets, clad in your love’s shirt while he laid on his side to face you, every element surrounding you in this current atmosphere was a very clear display of love, of intimacy and devotion that circled the two of you.

With every intrusive thought of just how many times he’s been in this exact position with another woman that you pushed into the back of your head, your grip on his fingers tightened, it was almost driving you insane. The uncertainty and insecurity in your placement in his life was so evident for jaeyun in your actions, and it made his heart ache.

Further proving that he’s not the one for you, because of his undying need to comfort you and whisper his love for you in your ears to wash away all the bad voices in your head that were pushing you to believe that you were the complete opposite of what he saw.

Someone who deserved the utmost love the entire universe could be able to forge and give.

And out of nowhere, the forbidden three words craved their way onto his tongue, jaeyun’s heart leaped into his throat with the suddenly controlling urge to declare his love for you, his love that bursted inside of every vein of his and made his heart thunder between his ribs.

“I..” he unconsciously started, his tone a mere whisper that made your eyes widen, your fingers froze around him making him realise his own words, breath knocked out from his lungs at his own voice that was wavering. So full of emotion, carrying each and every ounce of combined fear and love that he held for you, there was no going back now, he thought.

“I lov—“ and his words were lost in the air, jaeyun was abruptly pulled away once again, vanishing from the other side of the bed and leaving no trace behind him, you sat up in shock at his unexpected disappearance, your chest rising and falling rapidly when he evanesced wholly.

The confusion only settled in a few moments later, why were you sitting on bed and searching for someone? And what was with the sinking and dreadful feeling in your stomach?

Before you could dwell in your turmoil further, a different scene of your memories started to play ahead, it was the day after.

「 and no matter how easy things could be if i did. 」

The scent of the blooming flowers of spring around the cafe distracted you from your friend’s disappointed gaze, her movements with the spoon that mixed the coffee with the cream halted before she cleared her throat, successfully garnering your attention and allowing you to see her dissatisfaction with your situation in only her eyes.

“How muc—“ “listen.” You cut her off, aware of the way that she was about to give you advice for the umpteenth time, to convince and coax you to leave, you felt used to it at this point. Her meaningful words failed to penetrate the wall you had built around yourself regarding anything that was related to jaeyun.

Her hope diminished further when she saw your tired eyes still overflowing with love, the neglect and exhaustion evident in your features, the lack of attention and reciprocation of love from jaeyun was crystal clear to your friend, she absolutely hated seeing you like this.

But she knew that Jaeyun had you wrapped around his finger, your heart drummed for him in a symphony created for only him. She knew that if your love was an ocean then you had drowned a long time ago.

The similarities between you two was almost frustrating for her, as if you both were created from the same soul blown into two different bodies, the love you held for each other heavy, intense and impactful yet you both cowered when faced with the mere possibilities of confession and rejection, far too afraid to lose one another and unaware of the fact that you both were slipping from between the other’s fingers.

“I know.” You whispered, voice barely audible beneath the chatter of everyone around you in the cafe, your heavy lidded eyes stayed on the cheesecake your friend convinced you to order as you felt no appetite, your stomach finding more comfort with the feeling of ache and longing than anything else.

“But I can’t do anything.” Your words broke towards the end, lowering your head in desperate attempt to hide away your glossy eyes from your friend that felt her heart shatter at your frail and weak frame, “I can’t force myself to not love him.” And before you broke down further, your friend’s arms wrapped around you and pulled you into her comfort.

And the feeling of her love and whispers calming you down and engulfing you settled a short moment of peace into your chest before your sight shifted into another memory.

The reminder of why you were here in the first place rang in your head when you finally entered the most dreaded one.

You didn’t want all of your happy memories to fill your being with sorrow, you didn’t want to grieve over a person who you saw everyday, he lived his life before your very own eyes, his every breath that called out to another girl, confessed his love to another woman whom you wished and hoped would become you one day matched with your every breath that called out to him.

Every day and every night your lips refused to not hold hope for his response, till the syllables of his own name tasted foreign on your tongue. they tasted bitter to you, not the familiar sweetness you felt when you had called out to him in the first few months of his delightful presence in your life.

The lightness you felt in you had turned into the constriction of your chest on you, the heavy weight atop your ribs felt as if they were pushing against your heart, punishing it for being so reckless and careless to fall in love with the only man you weren’t meant to be with.

Now each beat of your heart that you were convinced thundered for him, felt like hell breaking loose in between your veins, the burst of ecstasy and excitement had all dulled down to aches of anguish and despair.

And before you knew it, the rush of joy that ascended throughout your body had transformed to absolute misery.

Here you were again, in another painful memory. The mattress sank softly at your weight when you gathered the courage to face your love and your fear, though you weren’t quite sure when those two interlinked.

You knew love was never supposed to be fearful, the unblemished love your heart had held for the boy who had his back turned towards you on the bed was not supposed to frighten your mind with dread of the outcome of tonight.

Jaeyun was on the other side of the bed, huddled beneath the blanket as if using the fabric to protect himself from his surroundings, hiding away from the reality and the truth that awaited him with impatience, “jake..” you whispered, voice low as you tested the waters and longed for any sort of reaction from him.

Yet he remained stoic atop the sheets.

From your perspective, jaeyun appeared so close yet so far away and out of your reach, as the days passed by he pulled further from your grasp, backing away from the same hold that once brought comfort to his distraught conscience, as if the graze of your fingertips burned him.

And before you were able to realise it jaeyun was too far away, standing a large distance far from the circle that contained your warmth, where you stayed. Both of your beings were suddenly standing in a parallel line with no signs of interlacing in a messy circle once again.

You weren’t exactly sure when both of your hearts had gotten intertwined so awfully to one another, a tangled web forming between your ribs. Yet it seemed that whatever force connected the two appeared defenceless and weak when faced against the same force that was rapidly pushing your bodies and minds away from each other.

It appeared like the love that poured in every web and vein wasn’t enough to pull your soul against his own.

“We should talk.. we need to.” you breathed out, tone heavy as if you knew he was going to be quick to shut you out once again, but you weren’t sure if you were going to walk away for a safe amount of time before returning to him again this time.

Just how many times have you lived through this exact scenario? And how many times were you willing to do so?

“There’s nothing to talk about.” he replied through gritted teeth, closing his eyes once he felt the familiar burn around his iris, and there it was. the same answer you had memorised yet so desperately tried to forget, it left a bittersweet feeling to your moment, you were expecting it and the melancholy of hearing it again settled into your emotions.

Instinctively, you turned your head towards him. Your eyes tracing every tense muscle beneath his shirt, the rigidness of his shoulders as he appeared uncomfortable in his own room and god was the thought a punch to your gut when the possibility of your presence making him uneasy crawled its way into your brain.

And the guilt returned to your system immediately, “i’m sorry.” you spoke, words dragged from your strained and tightened throat as you desperately wanted to sprint into the bathroom before a sob fell from your lips. You felt pathetic, really. His coldness and curt replies never affected you as much as this one, maybe it was because you knew this was going to be your last attempt.

With your eyes unfocused on your surroundings, your feet pushed the door of the bathroom behind you before you leaned onto the wall for strength. And unbeknownst to you, jaeyun finally let out a shaky breath fall from between his bruised and bitten lips, allowing all the tears to spill past his skin, the same skin you so lovingly kissed just a few months ago, and now the mere thought of your lips against him was shredding his own emotions apart.

Jaeyun knew that with every harsh word he spoke, he was also single-handedly ripping apart every web between your hearts.

The pale blue moonlight illuminated the room, landing directly on the empty spot in the middle of the bed, as if asking for one of your tense bodies to move towards one another, yet both of you remained with your backs against eachother. Jaeyun was slowly counting the seconds, he knew the exact amount of minutes it took you to fall asleep by now as he had repeated the same routine every night, except this time your breathing was taking longer to deepen than it was supposed to.

That was until he heard a quiet sniffle ring in his ears.

He froze atop the cold sheets, the sound echoing in his mind as if it was tormenting him, the blame and guilt instantly rooting themselves deep in his stomach and extending their branches far in his body, planting themselves fully in his lungs till the point he couldn’t breathe, his breaths turning shallow the more sniffles and quiet cries of heartbreak reached his ears.

The sweat around his palms turned icy, his own body betraying him as he remained paralysed beneath the blanket, his heart screamed at him to go, to move for good for once, fingers itching to turn around and wrap your shaky figure in his hold, to protect you from the demons that were tormenting you both endlessly, yet he couldn’t move.

The louder his heart drummed in his chest to move, the sterner his mind reminded him of how much he deserved this, after all those months of neglect who did he think he was to suddenly switch and turn back towards you? After all those steps he took away from you, how dare he even think of walking back on the same footsteps?

And so he stayed. His body stoic in fear of moving an inch.

He breathed out his first deep breath when he realised that you stopped, when you finally fell asleep and he was able to move and breathe again. Jaeyun wasted no time in getting up from his side of the bed, his feet felt cold against the floor, each step he took towards your side felt heavy on his heart, countless pangs of guilt arrowing themselves directly across his chest at the sight of your sleeping frame hugging the blanket close to you.

The closer the walked towards you, the more he felt the torturous sting in his eyes, he gulped the moment his rigid frame made contact with your blanket, sitting down right next to your small frame. And as he took in the features of your face that he so dearly loved he felt his soul hurting further.

He noticed all the glimmering streaks of tears that aligned your skin, your wet eyelashes that carried and held onto smaller droplets of your pain, the soft redness tainting the tip of your nose matching your cheeks, the longer he stared at you the worse his hands ached to hold you against him.

The comfort of your aura around him had stayed the same, your mere existence around him felt tenderly welcoming to him. The presence that felt like the manifestation of a hug from the whole universe, the warmth that was carefully picked from every star in the galaxy was all provided to him by the heavens in the form of you.

Yet his presence had changed. It had matched yours in the beginning, the presence that was a combination of all galactic bodies, the mere light of his aura challenged the light of the sun and all the stars combined, a glow so bright that rivalled the brilliance of every heavenly titan, he was otherworldly. he was your sunshine.

And now the warmth of the sun had dulled, dissolved into the shell of what he used to be, you thought that maybe each light had its own darkness since even the moon had its own dark side that it was ashamed of turning to show.

His fingertips landed against your soft skin, the disappearance of the coldness from his body the moment it made contact with yours made him melt in front of your sleeping form, and he allowed himself for once to sob all of his pain out.

“I’m sorry..” he whispered, voice breaking as he attempted to convey his emotions once they intensified by the seconds, his misery streaming down his face, “I’m so sorry..” he repeated, the heaviness in his heart worsening at the sight of his tears dripping down onto your blanket, his pain surrounding you once again.

“I wish—“ he gasped for breath, his insides shattering apart the longer he spent next to your frame, “I wish you hated me, so much.” He finally breathed out, his heart stinging with each word, sight blurring further as more tears fell past his cheeks.

“You don’t deserve me, my love.” Jaeyun smiled sadly at your sleeping form, the thought of you receiving the same kind and brave love that you felt for him brought a short-lived happiness to him, he knew he was incapable of reciprocating the adoration that filled you whole because of him.

Jaeyun was scared the second he realised that you had handed your heart over to his hands, he knew his bravery wouldn’t hold enough power to clench his fingertips around your fragile heart, resulting in the delicate and weak item to slip out of his fingers and shatter like countless pieces of glass on the floor.

How he wished he had the courage to love you the same way you loved him, to adore you the same way you adored him, to run back into your warm circle and keep you hidden and protected in his embrace till the end of times, yet he was incapable. His fears and doubts eating away at all the potentials that existed in your heart.

“But I don’t want you to not love me either.” He cried quietly, the thought of you receiving the same love you deserved from someone else destroyed him completely, the visualisation of you smiling the same way you do with him to another man had his hands springing upwards from your skin to grip onto his hair, paining himself in hopes of the torturous image dissipating from his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated once again, his eyes stinging at the continuous hurt his body had bottled up and just got the courage to spill, Jaeyun knew he wasn’t brave enough to show and confess his love to you the way you had done for him, and that fact tugged further on his heartstrings.

The rational part of him hoped aimlessly for a day to arrive where you would realise your worth, realise that jaeyun was still being eaten alive with his fear and doubts and guilt all at the same time, his love for you was overflowing yet he hid each and every bit of it so well.

He knew you deserved better, his rational part always tormenting him with his unworthiness and pushing him further away from you, yet his heart— god his heart couldn’t possibly handle the simple thought of you being away from him.

It was his weak side that still clutched you against him so tightly, the side that was fully and wholly controlled by his emotions that were feral for you, the part of him that desperately ignored all warnings and reminders of his logical side.

Deep down, you knew you and jaeyun were never meant to be. The difference between you and him was vast, similar to the difference of the sand and the ocean, the land and the sky, the moon and the sun. Both parts completing each other while repelling one another at the same time.

You two were never meant to intertwine in the first place.

And even if Jaeyun was finally ready to push every pearl and grain of sand into the ocean, to make the sky fall atop the land and to alter the moon and the sun’s planes’ into a permanent eclipse, it was way too late.

For by the time he wakes up, he won’t even be able to remember you.

The metal pieces on your temples glowed green, indicating another opening for a memory for you, a few days after your despair with jaeyun, where he finally collected all the dispersed courage from his head and went out of his way to make it up to you, inevitably wrapping you both further into his unhealthy cycle of messing up and redeeming himself.

Disregarding the fact that both of your hearts can only take so much. After so much heartbreak and neglect to the core of your soul that only held passion and love towards him, it was bound to give up on trying one day. But you were still loving him. And jaeyun ignored all the voices in his head when they began to claim that your unreciprocated love can’t last that long. Because Jaeyun believed in you.

And maybe it was blinded belief, blurred with his own hope that contained to bloom in his chest, his hope to fix and repair himself as soon as possible so he can present himself to you wholly, even if his time was running thin, even if he didn’t believe in himself, he still found comfort in the small amount of optimism that maybe he can bring the version of him that you adored in your to life.

You both knew that you fell in love with a side of him that he was too afraid to share, too doubtful to uncover and give himself and his most vulnerable parts to, and he knew that he had imprinted himself onto your mind, tattooed his presence onto your heart and he could say that the same implied to himself, it was only a matter of time.

But Jaeyun didn’t know that the longer he was taking to mend himself, he was breaking you further. Just how much longer were you supposed to wait for him to walk back and finally engulf you in his arms again? How much longer was he expecting you to wait while he cured himself? How much longer were you supposed to wait for his love? Unmindful of the way that you, yourself needed to heal as well.

Yet here you were, hand laced with jaeyun’s as he pulled you towards the dining room in the house, his excited giggles rang throughout the walls before the sound got trapped in your head and repeated continuously, your legs moved you in front of the table where a small chocolate cake was placed with three candles atop the icing.

“I made t—“ he started off before he felt your puppy’s fur graze his leg and cut his words, “me and layla made this for you.” He corrected himself, you were still facing the glowing cake with your oh so gentle gaze that never failed to make jaeyun sigh lovingly besides you, “happy birthday, my love.” He whispered, each word knitted with his undying devotion for you, and you felt it. Which made you love him further.

“Thank you, Jaeyun.” You replied, the room suddenly blurred from around you as your only focus was back to him again, to jaeyun’s charming smile and twinkling eyes when you finally faced him, the soft golden burn from the candles made him glow beautifully for you, with his closeness to your body and his fingers still intertwined with yours, you felt yourself falling in love with him all over again.

And jaeyun felt the same, your grateful grin as all of your features softened when your gaze met his made his heart melt into a puddle in his chest, the familiar electricity buzzed between both of your frames, the small glimmer of hope became a fired storm that lit and roared more when the two of you only seemed to get further lost in each other’s presence.

With jaeyun’s face inches away from yours, his arms reached to wrap around your waist, swiftly lifting and placing you on the wooden table next to the cake, the surprised gasp that fell past your lips made him chuckle, his hands then lowered to rest on your thighs, “make a wish, sweetheart.” He spoke, you could feel each flutter of his eyelashes against your skin as he held you close to him.

His slow breath that brushed against your collarbones when he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you closing your eyes to drown completely in this moment, dedicating your mind, body and heart in the close and comfortable warmth of one another that your souls craved for so deeply and desperately, the need clawing away at your heart and finally settling once your hand moved onto his chest, settling above his ribs. You almost melted against him when you felt the rapid thumping of his heart beneath your fingertips.

He moved his head into the crook of your neck, a sudden drowsiness creeping through him as he felt so safe and shielded with you so close to him, you didn’t feel as far and cold from him like you usually do, and that thought brought so much peace to his mind for the first time in months.

And so you breathed his scent deeply, surrounding yourself further in him as you made a wish where you weren’t asking for too much, just for jaeyun’s love.

“Blow them out.” He lifted himself away from you, his fingers ghosting against your legs while he smiled encouragingly at you, both of your eyes seemed glossier with the light of the candles casting down on them.

“Do it with me.” You requested with your tone fragile and careful. jaeyun’s widened, his eyes turning into crescents as he looked at you tenderly. He nodded making you turn your head towards the candles, the slight warmth provided by the small fire lead shivers to run down your spine before you both leaned down and blew on the candles together.

And right when you turned back to face jaeyun with a grin, you were left alone next to the chocolate cake, the cold air jabbing at your skin while your eyes uncontrollably sought for the sight of anyone, you could’ve sworn you felt warm hands on your thighs, but there was no one else in the room other than you and layla.

Where did this cake come from? And why were you not able to remember who made this cake?

「 i waited for your love. 」

All at once, the machine glitched. Losing its track on the map of your mind when the lights around your temples glowed scarlet, indicating the loss of the connection, the interlink pausing for a brief second when a sob wrecked through your body when you remembered the memory you were about to erase.

The nurse’s rushed movements to carefully pat your cheeks that were dampened with your tears were useless against your gut wrenching cries, a rush of emotions that raged in your chest before they fell through your eyes, like a dam shattering apart as the waterfalls streamed down your face and separated from your chin to land on your lap, gradually dampening the fabric.

“Please keep t-this one.” You whimpered, each word falling apart as your voice quietened slowly, your hands reaching to clasp around the necklace that graced your chest, the small piece of pine almost penetrating your skin with its sharp edges the tighter you held it when you opened your blurry eyes to the sight of the doctor and the nurse gazing at you warily, the sorrow was shared in the room as their sympathy towards you was clear in the windows of their eyes.

The woman’s warm hands gently held onto your shaking shoulder while you begged and sobbed with the machine glitching to please keep this upcoming memory, you felt helpless. More parts of your love, of your heart being ripped away from you were finally catching up to you and god was the pain absolutely unbearable.

Was this the punishment one had to pay for the innocent act of falling in love with sim jaeyun?

Words and voices became blurred and intangible from around you, the apologies from the nurse and the doctor never fully processing in your mind as the sorrowful memory had started to play ahead of your eyes with no help from the machine.

Your last whispers were to keep this memory, to leave the memory so you can hold onto the final and most precious piece of sim jaeyun that you got to see and experience first hand, the moment where your adoration and devotion towards the boy was solidified, before the pieces returned to glow in thier emerald hue and the device relinked.

Your head ached with the continuous tears flowing down your face when the memory of you and jaeyun sitting next to each other on the couch unfolded, his fingertips ghosted on your skin, dancing around and drawing shapes and words only he knew the meaning behind while he held you close to him, the inexplicable need and desire to hold you near took a hold of him, and you understood it.

You and jaeyun understood one another beyond the boundaries others deemed possible, you understood his soul so well, his soul that was crafted from a language so intricate and delicate and you were fluent in it. And when faced with the opposite situation of him knowing your soul, he flowed in every crack and crevice of your being easily.

his presence had seeped its way throughout all of your walls that you spent day and night building, growing rapidly all over your walls like vines before breaking them all one by one, till he rooted himself in a great spot, deep in your heart.

If possible, he knew your soul better than he knew his own. But the disagreement of your minds overpowered the link between your hearts and unraveled your tangled souls from one another.

And maybe your mastery in his language was the dawn for the demise of your sweet, innocent love. Because you hated that you could tell how fidgety and anxious jaeyun was around you in this current moment.

“Is something wrong?” You finally had the bravery to voice out, worry worsening when you felt his movements freeze. He cleared his throat before sighing, pulling himself slightly away from you to stare into your eyes.

You felt time slowing around you when you saw his glossy gaze, sim Jaeyun looked breathtaking with the amount of emotions that swirled in his eyes, an amount you couldn’t even begin to fathom or comprehend, you felt yourself gradually losing yourself the longer both of you drowned on the other’s presence, the atmosphere then carried a great sense of doom that both of you decided to ignore.

Too scared to face the results of your avoidance.

“I have a gift for you.” Jaeyun breathed out, the weight that he dragged on his shoulders became heavier when he continued his typical routine of ignorance, of running away from the problem in every possible direction even if they led him to the most tragic path.

Nodding to encourage him, you pursed your lips in anticipation, excitement sparking slowly when you finally pushed away every anxious thought of what could be possibly bothering jaeyun, his hands reached towards his pocket where he pulled a box, your eyes widening when— “I’m not proposing!” He quickly blurted out once he caught your shocked expression, “it’s just— a special gift.” He blushed making you tilt your head in confusion, unknowingly deepening the blush on his face.

“Here.” He handed you the white velvety box, your fingers brushed against the fabric one final time before opening the lid and god you’ve never felt so many conflicted emotions all at once.

The intense vehemence and hurricane of feelings swirling around your heart and chest uncoordinatedly lead the device unable to keep up with the contrast between your happiness in the memory and the sheer ache that you were facing in the current time.

Like the tides of an ocean, your regret washed down on you. Intensifying as if the waves were battling with a storm, escalating the worse the strikes of the thunder became with the time. How were you supposed to forget about him?

“Why are you crying?” His voice was weak, lips quivering in panic of you repelling his gift, hating the small pine cone necklace that adorned the box in your hands, “what?” You asked, confusion laced in your voice, you were over the moon why would you be crying?

You fingertips left the soft pine cone pendant to touch your face, flinching when feeling the small tear drop on the pad of your finger, you never cried in this memory.

“Please calm her down, her emotions are disrupting the memory.” You heard the muffled voice of the doctor followed by the panicked and comforting whispers of the nurse in your ear, whispered promises of living in peace and finding happiness barely reached your mind when you were wiping away your happiness yourself right now.

“Let me help you put it on.” Jaeyun proposed, smiling softly when you nodded and turned around after handing him the necklace, Jaeyun chanted words of reassurance in his head in hopes of calming his shaking fingers that burned when they brushed against your skin, clasping the necklace for the first and final time around your chest, he felt happiness and pride blooming in his heart at the satisfaction of having a piece of himself around you at all times.

“Turn around so I can see you, pretty.” He leaned in and whispered into your ear, his smile widening when you chuckled at his words and turned around.

But why was there no one behind when you turned?

Gasping through your tears with the pieces glowing crimson around your temples, you searched through the blurry figures of white coats and stethoscopes for a different one, though unknown to you who exactly you were searching for, your eyes still raced through every corner of the room.

“Please calm down, miss.” The nurse reassured, pushing the device back onto your temples when you still weakly looked around, too exhausted to respond or fight for your belief that someone is supposed to be here for you, “we’re one final memory away.” You heard the doctor talk before breathing a shaky breath in and taking your final trip to your memory lane.

“I’ll return before night, love.” Jaeyun shouted from the door, hoping that you weren’t able to hear his wavering voice when he left you on the only day you asked for him to stay, but after all of your attempts and requests to get him to stay were unsuccessful, you stayed in the room with your puppy as you waited for her father.

And what was supposed to be two hours became three, what became three turned into the evening, and here you were with your back leaning against the door Jaeyun walked out from when it’s past midnight, Layla’s figure quickly found your own crouched one, arms wrapped around your knees to allow the sleeves of your shirt to catch your tears when the thunder struck for the nth time that night, the night that Jaeyun didn’t return.

Your chest felt empty, as if your heart had been ripped and now the cold air passing through the void of where you used to hold a blinding love made goosebumps align like constellations along your skin, you felt hollow.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, baby.” You cried to layla who’s ears only lowered, if it wasn’t for the poor lighting in the hallway you would’ve been able to also see her own glossy and hurt filled eyes at the sight of you, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t make him love me.” You turned your head from her silhouette. Shame, humiliation and heartache overflowing you entirely as you sobbed behind the same door jaeyun was leaning against.

He stood there with his frame freezing from the cold, another night of him not being able to tell the difference between the rain droplets falling from his hair and his own salty tears as he allowed the guilt to eat him up from the inside out, not having the heart to possibly open the door and greet the view of a heartbroken you.

He had seen the sight of your tired eyes too many times, and knowing that he himself was the root of the pain made the heartache devour him whole, so he slid down onto the wet floor beneath him with his back towards the door, chuckling tearfully at his own patheticness.

If only he had the bravery to free fall into the sweet and accepting love that bloomed between the two of you like you had, maybe he would’ve been on the other side of the door to engulf you in his arms and console you.

But who was he kidding, he’s the same guy that couldn’t handle the responsibility of your pure heart and distracted himself with other women, surrounding himself with different fragrances and lipstick prints all when the lady of his heart was always within arm’s reach.

He wished he had moulded himself back into the version of him that you met, the loving and easygoing Jake that gazed at you with stars in his eyes, but the damage had already been done. There was no turning back now.

Especially not when you finally opened your eyes fully to the blinding light in the room, the soft blue light being sighted in your peripheral vision, indicating the completion and the success of the operation.

Elation sparked in your body, gradually burning into a small fire when you couldn’t remember anything.

“How are you feeling, miss?” The nurse asked, a hopeful smile gracing her features while she gazed at a confused you taking in your surroundings as if it was your first time, “weirdly.. light?” The doctor chuckled at your words, “the operation was a success.” He spoke before grinning pridefully at his triumph.

“You did amazing, miss.” The nurse praised as she helped you to stand on your own feet with no heavy weight on your shoulders for the first time in months, discarding the metal pieces before shaking your hands, words of gratitude and wishes for a healthy and happy life were exchanged before you finally walked out of the door belonging to the office, taking your first strives with no burden or guilt surrounding you as if you were floating.

Oblivious of the knowledge that Jaeyun woke up with a headache on the other side of the city, the back of his head pounding with him barely able to register Layla’s worried coos, unable to fully open his eyes and lifting his hand to rub the sleep away before— wait was he crying?

The young boy stared at his hand that shined with his tears in confusion, why was he crying? He tried to remember if he had seen a nightmare, a dream, anything— only to reach no answer.

“Hey pretty, don’t worry about me it was probably a dream.” He decided on comforting his puppy that only cooed sadly, his hand reaching forward to pet her fur while the other reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone when it brushed against a foreign object.

Jaeyun’s eyebrows furrowed when he pulled out a small box from his pocket, the item resembling a weirdly intimate small box, he opened it to reveal a beautiful ring— a promise ring. embroidered with a bunch of small diamonds around the silver lining, his confusion deepening when he had absolutely no clue of who this ring could possibly belong to.

He searched the inside for any sort of engraving to no avail, “who was this for..?” He whispered to layla who deflated further into the floor, sadness overflowing from her eyes at the defeat and loss of her friend.

And at the end, you and jaeyun’s tragic love story became encapsulated into a small forgotten star in the vast, wide and endless sky.

Already opening new opportunities and doors for different stories to be woven into your lives, you finally met up with the guy your friend had set you up with, and you knew the decision of trusting her taste was successful when a tall, doe eyed guy showed up to your table.

“Hello, my name is heeseung.” He smiled sweetly, his warm aura welcoming and pulling you in completely, unknown to you that this was just the beginning of your story with the love of your life, both of you getting lost in tangled conversations filled with questions and your interests, unaware of the different couple passing outside of the window.

“Wait so jungwon scored right?” Jake laughed, engrossed in the story of how his best friend almost ended up in the hospital, “after making riki trip, yes.” The girl besides him chuckled when Jake threw his head back in laughter, without noticing how his puppy stood outside of a cafe window, layla was no longer following him and instead she seemed to gaze intensely into the window.

Her tail swishing in excitement and joy when she spotted your figure sitting on one of the chairs, accompanied by a man that wasn’t afraid to wrap his arm around your shoulder while you laughed at his words.

Both you and Jake blind to the sight of the conflicted puppy who’s head only swished on both of your distant figures with two different people around you now before walking away with a heavy heart in jaeyun’s direction.

Maybe you and Jaeyun were never meant to successfully intertwine.

— fin

a,note. this feels so weird to share now because this is my first ever heavy angst filled work that’s also very emotionally connected to me in a way, first of all thank you ariana for releasing album of the year and inspiring me to write this, if you haven’t listened to eternal sunshine please so as soon as possible.

second i’d like to share how somewhat uncomfortable it is for me to share this as i had to take a lot of breaks throughout writing it (i’m an emotional b word pls) and also there were alot of moments that were inspired by my closest friendships / emotional experiences so i really feel like im sharing some sort of part of myself with this as well, but either way i hope u enjoyed reading this !! i love u layla and i’m sorry :(

Eternal Sunshine

pairing!: Non idol!Sunghoon x fem reader

genre!: angst, a little nostalgia, and a pinch of fluff that you’d have to use a magnifying glass to see it.

trope!: second chance

prompt!: After a bad argument that resulted in sunghoon angrily racing out of your apartment, he begins to worry about you when you don’t respond to any of his messages the following days after the fallout. When he figures out that you’ve decided to erase him from your mind forever, he makes it his mission to get to you before it’s too late.

warnings!: profanity, arugements, breakups, crying, descriptive writing panic attacks, mentions of disassociation

songs!: eternal sunshine- ariana grande, imperfect for you- ariana grande, talk- beabadoobee, saturn- SZA

Sunghoon hadn’t known how they had gotten to where they were.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows in the living room. The couple both stood on opposite sides of the room, their faces flushed with frustration and anger and the remnants of their latest argument hung in the air casting a palpable tension between them.

"This isn't working, Sunghoon!" Y/N exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, her heart aching with words unsaid; unable to say under the daunting cold stare of her longtime boyfriend

"We can't keep doing this. We can't keep hurting each other like this."

Sunghoon ran a hand through his brown hair, his eyes darkened with frustration. "And whose fault is that, Y/N? You're the one who always picks fights over every little thing. You’re insufferable!" Y/N knew that Sunghoon was sometimes like this. After a year of dating, of intimate moments and arguments like this she had known what Sunghoon had up his sleeve and in his books.

Sometimes unreasonable, like a rampaging ape, he would make no room for explanation or justice. Y/N flinched at his words, her eyes widening in hurt and discomfort. "Insufferable? Is that really what you think of me?"

Sunghoon threw his hands up in exasperation. "You never listen! Every time we have a problem, you just keep pushing and pushing until I can’t take it anymore. It's like you enjoy making things difficult. Like you get some sick pleasure out of seeing me frust"

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, her voice breaking up at the sound of sunghoons words. Her heart had filled itself with somewhat of a burning esaperated ache, sending signals to the waterline of her eyeballs "I push because I care, Sunghoon. I push because I want us to work, because I want us to be better. I push because I know you won’t and I know you’ll return to loving me like you didn’t do something that hurt me. But it feels like you’ve given up."

Sunghoon shook his head, his voice softer but no less intense. "I haven’t given up, Y/N. But I’m exhausted. I’m tired of feeling like nothing I do is ever enough for you." The words hung between them, the weight of them sinking in. Everything sunghoon did was enough for her. All the times he had cared for her, had sat beside her in silence; just for company reasons, the sick days they had spent together. Everything that Sunghoon does, even if it’s just standing in the middle of a room, was more than y/n couldve asked for.

After a long stale silence Y/N took a step back, crossing her arms as if to protect herself from the sting of his words. "So what are you saying? That you don't love me anymore?" Sunghoon's face softened, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "I do love you, Y/N. But sometimes, love isn't enough. Sometimes, we just aren’t good for each other." Y/N felt a tear slide down her cheek, her heart breaking at the realization of his words. "So this is it, then? This is how it ends?" Again there was a silence, the cars outside the open window on the busy street seemed to echo in the darkened apartment.

Sunghoon's shoulders slumped, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. After a breath to calm him down he began to speak "Y/N—”

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "Maybe you're right. Maybe... maybe we need to let go."

The silence that followed was deafening, both of them absorbing the finality of their choice as Y/N spoke with a firm halted voice; the lump of sobs in her throat beckoning to come out. Y/N felt a hollow ache in her chest, the pain of losing someone she once believed was her forever. Loosing someone who she had thought would be the last person she’d see when the light had left her eyes. Sunghoon took a step towards the door, hesitating for a moment. His hand laid on the handle and without saying another word he walked out unable to make sense of the situation. Y/N nodded to herself as she watched as Sunghoon leave, the door closing behind him with a quiet click that echoed throughout the empty room.

The sobs that had been threatening her came out distant, almost as if it had escaped her throat without permission. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, pressing down on her chest like a boulder, making it hard to breathe.

A numbness creeped into her limbs, spreading slowly, paralyzing her. Her mind raced, replaying every word of their conversation, every painful syllable that had led to this moment. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, the cool wood pressing against her skin through the thin fabric of her pants. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in the pieces that felt like they were falling apart, trying to desperately hold the remaining lingering touches he left on her in the previous days.

Her heart pounded erratically, each beat a painful reminder of what she had lost. She had never known that a heart could physically ache, but now as it did, she understood every clichéd song, every poem, every tear-stained line about heartbreak. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made the tears spill over, hot and relentless, carving paths down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming, an endless stream of sorrow that she couldn’t stop. Her mind flitted back to the good times, the laughter, the shared secrets, the warmth of his touch, the whisperings of sweet nothings as they laid beneath the sunday morning sun. She remembered the way his eyes would light up when he saw her, the way his arms felt like home. Now, every happy moment seemed like a cruel joke, a setup for the devastating situation she was presented with.

The hours passed in a blur of tears and pain, the world outside moving on while hers stood still. Every sound seemed too loud, every shadow too dark, every breath too hard. She dragged herself to bed, curling up under the blankets that still smelled like him. and his softly fragrant cologne. She buried her face in his pillow and had shared her tears with the white satin cover. Her silent sobs continued until her body was exhausted and as she drifted into a restless sleep, the playful memories of Sunghoon and her faded in and out of her head.

Sunghoon had hated this distance. In the three weeks they had been apart, his body seemed to ache for her. His restless sleep seemed to take the form of the dark bags under his eyes and every night was a struggle, his mind replaying their last argument, the hurt in her eyes, the choked down shaker voice that she presented to him and the words he wished he could take back. The words he wished she had taken back. He had been stubborn, prideful, and now he was paying the price for it.

He wandered through his apartment, each corner filled with memories of her. The couch where they had spent countless evenings watching movies, her head resting on his shoulder. The kitchen, where they had danced to old songs while cooking dinner, laughing when they inevitably messed up the recipe. The bed they had shared, where they whispered secrets and dreams to each other in the quiet moments before sleep.

Sunghoon picked up his phone, scrolling through their old messages, his heart clenching with each sweet word and shared joke. He remembered their first date, the nervous excitement as they sat across from each other at a small café, sipping on coffee and talking for hours. He had been captivated by her smile, the way she lit up when she talked about her passions. They had walked along the river afterward, hands brushing until he finally gathered the courage to hold hers. It had felt like the beginning of something magical.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. The weekend getaway to the mountains, where they hiked during the day and cuddled by the fire at night. The spontaneous road trip to the beach, where they played in the waves and collected seashells. Every moment had been perfect, every experience richer because she was by his side.

Sunghoon’s chest tightened as he thought about the night of their argument. He had been so frustrated, the stress from work boiling over into their conversation. He had said things he didn’t mean, his anger masking his love for her. He had seen the hurt in her eyes, the way she had tried to hold back tears. He wanted to reach out, to pull her into his arms and apologize, but his pride had held him back. Instead, he had walked away cowardly, the silence between them heavy and oppressive.

Now, he regretted every word, every moment of stubborn silence. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she was excited, the feeling of her hand in his. He missed the way she understood him, sometimes better than he understood himself. Without her, everything felt dull and lifeless. The world seemed less vibrant, the colors muted.

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had to make things right. He couldn’t bear this distance any longer, couldn’t stand the thought of living without her. He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. He knew she wouldn't dare be at her own apartment, that wasn’t like his lover he knew. He knew she had to be out, maybe working extra hours at the local library or even at the mall to distract her from the feelings that ached her at night. He would need to go talk to her two friends if he wanted an exact location.

As he walked, he thought about all the things he would say. He would tell her how much he missed her, how every moment without her felt like an eternity when he did find her.

The streets were quiet, the evening air cool against his skin. Sunghoon’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and hope. When he finally reached the rented building of her friends, he paused, taking a deep breath before knocking.

Jake answered, his expression immediately turning wary when he saw Sunghoon. “Sunghoon?”

“I need to talk to you guys about Y/N,” Sunghoon said, trying to keep his voice steady. Jake stepped aside reluctantly, allowing Sunghoon to enter. Isa was sitting on the couch, and she looked up with a frown as he walked in.

“Sunghoon, this isn’t a good time,” Isa said, her voice tinged with frustration.

“I know you’re not happy to see me,” Sunghoon began, “but I need to find her. It’s important.”

Jake crossed his arms, standing protectively by Isa. “She doesn’t want to see you, Sunghoon. You need to respect that.”

“I get that I messed up,” Sunghoon said, his frustration bubbling up. “But I need to talk to her, to make things right. Please, just tell me where she is.” Isa and Jake exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them then finally, Isa sighed and looked back at Sunghoon, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and anger.

“She’s trying to move on, Sunghoon,” Isa said firmly. “You need to let her go.” Sunghoon had saw the worried stare they had held between eachother and a strong uneasy feeling washed over him, his patience wearing thin. “You’re hiding something, i see it. I’m not here to play mind games, i’m here to figure out where my girlfriend is” He urged. Isa and Jake sighed before Isa had opened the little cabinet below the coffee table, pulling out an envelope and handing it to the taller in front of her.

“we got this in the mail yesterday," Jake said, breaking the awkward silence as Sunghoon examined the envelope. Sunghoon sat in disbelief as he stared at the envelope his friends had just handed him. It was plain and unassuming, yet Sunghoon had a sinking feeling that whatever was inside would change everything.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He was frozen from fear, and the feeling of impending doom that washed over him, His hands tremble over the open slit that was already made by the two who sat in front of him. “I…I can’t open it.” It was getting harder to breathe. The tension in the room grew thicker. Isa’s face softened with sadness, and she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Jake stepped forward, his expression grim.

“She’s…she’s erasing you, Sunghoon,” Jake said quietly. The words hit Sunghoon like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean, erasing me?” disbelief painted his mouth thickly, like oil paint. “She went to a clinic,” Jake explained, his voice heavy. “They specialize in erasing memories of someone the client wants gone. She’s trying to forget you, Sunghoon.” He finished and Sunghoons stomach twisted inward, his throat holding back the nausea he’d experience.

In almost a second his eyes dart down to the document that explained the procedure and the precautions necessary to find the shipping address below the signature “Sunghoon…” Isa tried to explain, maneuvering the blanket that covered her lap to stand up. But Sunghoon wasn’t listening, her words like fuzz bled into his ears. The surrounding areas around him had became almost uncannily non-existent and the envelope in his hand had became moist from the sweat his palms had produced. A piercing continuous beep had replaced the muffled voices of jake and isa and the tv that sat in front of the three for background noise, all he could think about was her.

About the procedure, about the feelings her would forget when it was said and done. Jakes hand had snapped him out of the reeling disassociation his mind had made him experience “Are you alright?” Jake had asked worryingly, but Sunghoon just replied in a cough and without another word, he bolted out of the apartment, his heart racing. He had to reach her before it was too late.

Sunghoon stood outside the clinic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had run the entire way, his mind racing with disbelief and desperation.

The clinic loomed in front of him, its sterile facade a stark contrast to the chaos inside his heart. He pushed through the double doors, his eyes scanning the waiting room frantically, barely taking in his surroundings as he made his way to the reception desk. “I’m looking for Y/N L/N” he said breathlessly. “Please, I need to see her.”

The receptionist looked up, her expression professional but slightly wary. Her hesitation became greatly known to Sunghoon fast. He knew he looked crazy, almost insane by the way the older womens eyes dialated with fear. His hair had been disheveled and the cold crisp air of winter had painted his nose a bright Rudolph red from all the running he did “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Please,” Sunghoon interrupted, his voice cracking. Something in his desperation must have reached her, because she nodded slowly. “She’s in Room 3” Sunghoon sprinted down the hall, his footsteps echoing loudly. He reached the first floor to where “room 3” was plastered in bold font on a hanging sleek sign and took another 4 big strides before throwing the door open, his eyes landing on Y/N, who was lying on a reclined chair, electrodes attached to her temples.

“Stop!” he shouted, rushing to her side. The technician operating the machine paused, startled by the sudden intrusion “You cannot be back here!” Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, confusion and sadness swirling in them as she looked at him. “Sunghoon?” He closed the distance between them without a second thought and in a few strides his chest was heaving. "I know what you're about to do. Please, don't go through with this."

Y/N’s gaze hardened, a protective shell forming around her vulnerability. "Why do you care, Sunghoon? You said it yourself—sometimes love isn’t enough." Sunghoon’s face contorts with regret. "I know what I said, and I was wrong. I was angry and frustrated, but that doesn’t mean i should’ve treated you like that. Please, let’s talk about this."

Y/N shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "Talking isn’t going to fix this. We’re broken, Sunghoon. We hurt each other too much."

He reached out, his hand trembling as it cupped Y/N’s cheek. "We can try to fix it. We can learn from our mistakes. But erasing me, erasing us—it won’t solve anything. It’ll just leave us emptier than before."

Y/N closes her eyes, leaning into his touch despite the almost burning frustration she felt from doing so. "I can’t keep living with this pain. Every memory, every moment we shared, it’s like a sword had punctured my lung."

Sunghoon’s voice cracked, desperation seeping into his words. "If you do this, we’ll lose everything. The good memories, the laughter, the love. Please, Y/N, don’t let go of us this way." She took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "What if it’s too late? What if we can’t fix this? What if you can’t forgive me for doing this?"

Sunghoon shook his head, his grip on her hand tightening. "I would never hold this against you, you’re vulnerable Y/N, I would never take advantage of you like this. It’s never too late. We can start over, we can rebuild. But we need to do it together. Don’t, Y/N. Please.” Y/N looked between Sunghoon and the panicked doctor who was on the phone with security, wastefully debating between the comfort of forgetting and the pain of holding on.

Sunghoon's footsteps echoed softly on the deserted platform, the early morning mist curling around his ankles in a cooling breeze. He adjusted his scarf, trying to fend off the biting chill of the ghostly morning, and scanned the horizon for the first hint of dawn. He loved these quiet moments, when the world still asleep, it coddled him in a warm sense of possibilities. But today, an uneasy feeling gnawed at his usually calm demeanor, something the train platform rarely gave him.

Y/N stood at the other end of the platform, her breath forming small clouds in the frosty air as she tried to find comfort in the cold crisp air. She shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets, seeking warmth and comfort. The train station felt like a ghost town, a stark contrast to the noisy chaos that usually accompanied her mornings.

Both of their eyes met across the platform, and for a split second, time seemed to freeze. There was something eerily familiar in Sunghoon's impatient colding gaze, something that tugged at the edges of Y/N's memory. But before she could dwell on it, the loudspeaker crackled to life, announcing the arrival of the next train.

Sunghoon hesitated, then took a step toward Y/N, meeting her in the middle of the trains inside "Hey," he said, his voice sounding strangely loud in the quiet almost empty train. "Do I know you?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "I... I don't think so," she replied, though uncertainty laced her words. "But you seem familiar. Have we met before?"

Sunghoon frowned, searching his mind for any recollection but no memories had seemed to reenter his consciousness. "I don't think so. But... I have this weird feeling that we have. Maybe in another life or something."

Y/N chuckled, a soft, wistful sound. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe we're just two strangers on the same train." She joked, earning a small laugh from the taller.

footnotes!.

keb notes!: HEYYYY SO LIKEE…I do not like this piece at all lolz 😆. I feel like it was rushed even though i spent 2 months on it, the formatting is off and most of all, i honestly just feel like i did an ASS job at writing this whole thing but i love ariana grande so i had to put this out there..also…MY ASS DID NOT GRAMMAR CHECK THIS SSORRRYYY😭😭

if you couldn’t tell this us based off of the 2004 movie “Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind” it’s honestly one of my favorite movies and when one of my favorite artists made a song referencing the movie in her music video i knew i had to write something ab it lol😭

This is also my first ever enhypen fic on tumblr!! I’ll be posting a jake fluff to compensate for this fic tho…

With bright hazel eyes.

Pairing: reiner x marleyan!reader

Summary: You’ve known Reiner since you were both children; unlikely friends bound together despite your place as a rich sugar merchant’s daughter, and his as a poor Eldian boy. You weren’t supposed to like him—devil-blooded as he was—but he made you laugh and listened when you played the violin. He was wonderful, but Marley taught you wonders never last.

Tags/warnings: childhood friends, romance, mutual pining, forbidden relationships, hurt/comfort, ptsd, depression, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes of prejudice & racism, sorta slow burn (depending how you look at it)

Word count: 6.4k

Table of contents: Chapter 1 - out now on ao3!

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43

part one

an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol

wc: 5.2k

Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.

But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.

The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadn’t once thought it was right—he had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. They’d been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway.

But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel they’d rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasn’t he?

The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. He’d travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.

And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The way she’d looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monza—before she left for good. The way she’d walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.

What if I had chosen her?

He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. She’d moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasn’t—steady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasn’t tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram story—her laughing, the two of them in a café in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happy—had been the final blow.

That was the last straw.

And now, three years later, here he was—about to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasn’t his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. She’d followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he loved her anymore. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

She had been the easy option. She fit into the world he’d built for himself—the shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.

But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one who’d loved him first and probably would, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he hadn’t been able to see it for what it was.

He hadn’t thought about her for a while—not in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. He’d buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angelo’s name pop up, or when he’d hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldn’t help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?

He could only imagine the life she’d built without him—the kind of life she deserved.

But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if he’d ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldn’t help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?

His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancée. A text: “Hey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!”

He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

He knew he shouldn’t, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadn’t heard from her in so long, hadn’t even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.

But, for some reason, there he was—typing out an invitation to his wedding.

It’s the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. They’d spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.

He hit “send” before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.

It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta and wine—and now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.

Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.

She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since she’d thought about him—since Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way he’d looked at her before everything changed.

Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.

I hope this message finds you well. It’s been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. I’m getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldn’t feel right without including you.

I understand if you’re unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.

I hope everything is going well in your life.

All the best,

Fran

She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.

Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud of—one that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldn’t be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.

And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.

She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angelo’s gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made together—together, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Franco’s message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.

She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasn’t hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?

Why am I even asking myself this?

She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didn’t want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.

The following morning, the soft clink of Angelo’s keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.

She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. “You seem a little quiet this morning.”

She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Franco’s invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldn’t escape.

“What’s up?” Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.

She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.

Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.

Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “He’s getting married, huh? I didn;’t believe it when I saw it on the news.” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. “I guess he thought I should know.”

“You’re not planning on going, are you?” Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “He’s my past now. It doesn’t matter. It’s… it’s not something I need to revisit.”

Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to her—how he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.

“I haven’t seen Franco since we were sixteen,” Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. “I know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.”

She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. “Closure?” she repeated, almost incredulously. “I don’t need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.”

“I know,” Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. “But I think sometimes it’s easy to say we’ve moved on, that we’re over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing him—seeing that life—will help you put the final chapter behind you. Don’t you think?”

She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasn’t about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I don’t want to go and be reminded of something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. “It won’t. I promise. You’re the one I want, mi amor You’re the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, that’s not us. It’s not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then I’ll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like that—steady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didn’t hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.

With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. “You’re right. Maybe it would be good to go. I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.”

Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. “Then we’ll go. Together.”

She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his life—whatever that was now—could stay in the past, but she wouldn’t be running from it anymore.

“Thanks,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “For always being here.”

“Always,” Angelo replied, his voice warm. “Now go. You don’t want to be late for your shift.”

She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.

Three months later

The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.

She was here. With him. With Angelo.

He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice tender.

She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. “You look handsome, as usual,” she added with a smile.

He chuckled softly. “I try,” he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. “Are you ready for this? I know it’s been a long time coming.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready. It’s just… it’s strange. You know? We’re not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like I’m finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.”

“Whatever you need, you have it,” Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.

She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.

“I’m going to step outside for a second,” she said, pulling away from him gently. “I’m going to grab a photo of the schedule. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.

She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremony’s schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.

That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.

Franco.

He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years ago—handsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.

Her stomach tightened.

“You came,” he said, his voice soft with surprise. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. “I said I would,” she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.

He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldn’t quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t think you’d follow through,” he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She didn’t know what to make of that. She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least be polite.”

A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Franco’s gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his words hesitant.

She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to go back to the past—didn’t want to open that door again.

“I’d rather not,” she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.

Franco’s expression softened. “It’s been three years. Three years overdue, don’t you think?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didn’t owe him anything, and yet, a part of her—perhaps the part that had loved him—knew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadn’t been able to shake off.

She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. “Fine,” she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. “But just for a minute. I don’t have time to rehash everything.”

“Thank you,” Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. “My room’s just down here. I won’t keep you long.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. “Water? A drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.

“So…” Franco began, taking a breath, “I guess this is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. “A little.”

Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I did, but that wasn’t ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I should’ve done better. I should’ve realised…”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.

“I should’ve told you,” he started, voice low, almost regretful. “I should have told you that I loved you.”

She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. “Don’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. “You can’t do that. You can’t come here and say things like that after all this time. It’s... it’s mean.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I should’ve told you,” he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, perhaps? Regret?

She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. “Why are you still with her, then?” Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. “It’s easier to pretend to love her,” he admitted, his voice flat. “It’s easier than facing the truth.”

“Than what?” she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. “Than admitting you love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Franco’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. I still don’t.”

She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking with frustration. “You don’t get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You don’t get to say things that undo everything we went through.”

Franco’s gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. “Say it, and I’ll leave her,” he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. “Say you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and I’ll do it. I’ll walk away from her. I’ll choose you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was there—familiar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t the girl who would wait around for him to realise what he’d lost.

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m happy now. I’m happy with Angelo.”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Franco’s eyes—still searching, still wanting—she realised that she meant it. She really did.

Franco’s face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. “You don’t understand,” he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. “I never stopped loving you.”

She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. “No,” she said firmly, her voice resolute. “You don’t get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when I’ve spent three years getting over all of this. You don’t get to come here and break my heart all over again.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.

“I can’t undo what happened,” she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. “But I’m not that girl anymore. And I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything they’d been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.

She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

“I’m happy now, Fran,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. “And you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I can’t be part of that anymore.”

She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.

The wedding was beautiful.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.

She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautiful—everything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasn’t.

She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Something feels wrong.”

The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.

After a few more minutes, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. “Do you think he’s going to come?”

Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. “I don’t know, cariño. Maybe something’s happened. He’s probably just... running late.”

But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasn’t just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.

And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw him—Franco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasn’t in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.

The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of faces—his family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didn’t speak immediately.

He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the bride’s family sitting in the front row.

“Excuse me,” Franco’s voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry for the disruption,” he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. “I... I can’t do this. I can’t marry her.”

The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldn’t look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could,” he went on, his voice quiet but steady, “but I can’t marry her when I love someone else.” His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had been—it was all there in that single glance. But she didn’t feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone else’s dream unravel.

The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors he’d just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Franco continued, his voice breaking, “I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry. I—I just can’t.”

Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.

The room was filled with stunned silence.

Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didn’t know how to feel—didn’t know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.

And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.

She couldn’t help herself.

The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.

It was her fault.

the end.

an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah

tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls

when they cheat on you

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, choso, higuruma, shiu, ino, shoko, uraume

ʚ cont: so much angst it’s gonna make u sick

ʚ note: i hated making this so much so i hope the 400 of you who wanted this enjoy… (this is the best smau i’ve ever made)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

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Please, Please, Please | P.JS

criminal!jay x good girl!reader

warnings: angst, slight fluff, smut (mdni), multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (m&f rec.), multiple orgasms, fingering, car sex, cliffside bj, white dragon, slightly toxic!jay at the beginning, possessive, crime (obvs), mentions of robbery, theft, guns, money laundering, violence, blood, overall criminal behaviour from multiple parties, tough love, confrontation, touch her and you'll die, anything else lmk!

w.c: 34k (sorry)

synopsis: synopsis: visiting your tax fraudulent dad in prison and nothing was new, except the boy being carted in to the police station in cuffs. when you follow your connection on a reckless whim, it opens you up to a world filled with crime, love, and realisations about who you are.

a/n: hi! this was heavily anticipated and i went back and forth on this for a long time regarding making it a series or keeping it a one shot. In the end, i decided to make it just one thing. i really do hope you like it, i tried to set the pace as best i could with the little wordcount blr will give me so i am praying it's okay! anyway, enjoy! as always, reblogs, comments, etc etc are all appreciated and loved <3

“Now be a good girl for me, Y/N,” your dad gushes, his eyes tired and hand placed against the glass. He looks like half the man he was before stepping into this place.

The greyness of the prison seems to leech the colour from everything around it, leaving only the stark contrasts of shadows and light, along with his navy and white uniform. The fluorescent lights inside cast a sickly pallor on your father's face, accentuating the lines of worry and regret etched into his once confident features.

He was a self-made man, once the toast of the town, known for his business acumen and seemingly Midas touch. But behind the facade of success, he had been entangled in a web of deceit. It all began with a seemingly harmless decision to bend the rules - just a little. He had justified it to himself as a necessary measure, a way to keep the business afloat during tough times. It was just a bit of creative accounting, he had thought. But what started as a small indiscretion soon snowballed into a full-blown scheme of tax evasion.

For years, he had hidden his tracks well, moving money through a labyrinth of offshore accounts, shell companies, and falsified records. His lifestyle had grown ever more lavish, the fruits of his ill-gotten gains displayed in a sprawling mansion, luxury cars, and vacations to exotic locales. Yet, the more he accumulated, the more paranoid he became, always looking over his shoulder, fearing the day when his carefully constructed house of cards would come crashing down.

And crash it did. An anonymous tip-off to HMRC triggered an investigation that swiftly unravelled the elaborate fraud. The evidence was damning – millions of pounds in unpaid tax, laundered funds, and fraudulent claims. The trial was short and sharp, the verdict inevitable. The judge's gavel fell with finality, marking the end of his freedom and the start of his journey behind bars. 

Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you view it, he only got five years in prison which is unheard of for someone who committed such a lavish crime with lots of money involved. So far, he has served four and a bit out of five years and is set to come home in 6 months.

However, that freedom is still a while away, and the only way you can see him now is through this thick glass panel, speaking to him through a telephone. The visitation room is grim and impersonal, with rows of metal chairs bolted to the floor, and a cacophony of muffled conversations echoing off the hard surfaces. The phone is cold in your hand, a lifeline to the man who once seemed invincible.

Your dad's prison uniform hangs loosely on his frame, the drab, coarse fabric a far cry from the tailored suits he used to wear. He shifts uncomfortably on the small stool, the shackles around his wrists clinking softly with every movement. Every visit you have with your dad, it’s always the same jargon; “Be a good girl”, “Stay out of trouble”, or, “Don’t be bad like your dad.” It’s always a useless reminder because, for 20 years of your life, you have never once gotten into bother.

From a young age, you have been the epitome of a model child. You always listen to your parents, excel in school, and never once give them cause for worry. Your teachers often remarked on your diligence and kindness, always quick to help a struggling classmate or volunteer for a school project. While other kids might have dabbled in teenage rebellion, you stayed focused, driven by an internal compass that always pointed towards doing the right thing.

You are just so scared of disappointing your father.

Even at University, you stay away from parties and stay focused on keeping your head straight, making friends with people of similar character to you - if they even are still your friends. Most of them dipped on you once your father got convicted, not wishing to be associated with a criminal’s daughter, or more importantly, a girl with no money.

Little did they know that you were very much still wealthy thanks to your dad’s extra-sneaky antics.

Now, sitting across from your father in the sterile confines of the prison, you feel a pang of sorrow mixed with frustration. His reminders to stay out of trouble feel almost insulting, a stark contrast to the reality of your life. You have always been the one to shoulder responsibilities, to pick up the pieces and move forward.

Sometimes, you wish you could just do something out of character, something others would deem reckless.

“Dad, I’ve never been in trouble,” you remind him gently, trying to hide the sting of your words. “I’ve always been a good girl, remember?” To a fault, sometimes.

He sighs, the weight of his guilt evident in his tired eyes. “I know, Y/N. I just…I worry about you. I don’t want you to end up like me.”

“You don’t have to worry,” you say firmly. “I’m not you. You made it perfectly clear the path I need to be on.”

Your words sting into his chest, but his face never shows it. You’re right anyway, you have always lived up to his impossible expectations. Instead, he nods and relents, dropping the subject altogether. Just in time, too, because the guard quickly steps in to wrap up the visit.

“Time’s up,” the guard announces, his tone brisk and indifferent.

You both hesitate for a moment, savouring the last few seconds before the separation. “I love you, Dad,” you say, your voice soft but resolute.

“I love you too, Y/N. Be strong,” he replies, his hand still pressed against the glass.

With a final nod, you place the phone back on the hook and stand up, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you as you walk away. The sound of the door buzzing open and then locking behind you is a harsh reminder of the reality you both face.

Stepping out of the visiting room, a tumult of emotions surges within you - sadness, frustration, and a lingering sense of helplessness. Each step feels heavy, as if the burdens of your father's past are pressing down on your shoulders. The overhead lights in the corridor cast a stark, cold glow, reflecting off the polished linoleum floor and intensifying the sterile atmosphere of the prison. You hate it here, trying to avoid the place as much as possible, only visiting your dad maybe once every five months.

It’s not that you don’t love him but this place isn’t built for someone like you.

As you navigate the maze of hallways to head to the exit, a sudden commotion draws your attention. Two guards are escorting a man into the facility, his wrists bound behind his back with handcuffs. He walks with a defiant swagger, despite the firm grips on his arms. His black slacks and tight-fitted black polo shirt cling to his muscular frame, giving him an air of unrefined power. His hair, meticulously gelled back, now shows signs of disarray from the rough handling, with a few rebellious strands falling across his forehead.

"Fucking calm down, I'm walking with you," he growls, his voice dripping with sarcasm and defiance. The deep timbre of his words reverberates through the corridor, causing a ripple of tension among the guards and onlookers. 

You pause, momentarily taken aback by the scene unfolding before you. The man's audacity and the raw edge in his voice contrast sharply with the controlled environment of the prison, sparking an unexpected intrigue. Certain prisoners cause scenes, but never have you seen it up close, only hearing about it through the words of your father.

As the guards march him up the corridor, his dark eyes lock onto yours for a brief moment. His face is strikingly beautiful - dark eyebrows framing his symmetrical face and dangerous eyes that seem to pierce right through you. He looks more like a model than a felon, and the incongruity of his appearance in this setting sends a jolt through your system.

His gaze trails down your body as he gets closer to you, slow and deliberate, igniting a rush of heat that spreads from your cheeks to your core. His eyes linger on your curves, and you notice the way he licks his lips, a predatory smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The intensity of his attention makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you in this stark, fluorescent-lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’, how’s it going?” he asks as he passes, his tone nonchalant but menacing, the kind of menacing that makes your pulse quicken and your skin tingle.

“Move along,” one of the guards snaps, shoving him forward. But even as they push him into a room, he cranes his neck to keep you in his sight for as long as possible. His eyes burn with defiance and amusement, and he smirks, the expression filled with a dangerous charm that leaves you momentarily breathless.

The door slams shut behind him, and the spell is broken. You’re left standing in the corridor, your heart racing and your mind reeling from the unexpected encounter. The raw magnetism of his presence lingers in the air, intertwining with the myriad of emotions already churning within you.

“Ma’am, please come this way,” a guard gestures for you to step through the gated door. Numbly, you follow his direction, your mind still preoccupied with the intensity of those dark eyes.

You step through the gate, hearing the metallic clink as it locks behind you. Making your way to the front desk, you feel a strange mix of adrenaline and bewilderment coursing through you. You remove your visitor’s badge and place it on the desk, your fingers lingering on the smooth plastic for a moment.

“Who was that?” you ask, trying to sound casual, though your voice betrays a hint of the curiosity you feel.

The guard behind the desk, a burly man with a no-nonsense demeanour, looks up from his paperwork. “Park Jongseong,” he replies, his tone matter-of-fact. “He's a series regular here. It's best not to catch his attention; he eats girls like you for dinner.”

You swallow hard, the guard’s words sending a shiver down your spine. “Eats girls like me for dinner?” you repeat, more to yourself than to him, the gravity of the warning sinking in.

“Yeah,” the guard nods, his expression grim. “He’s got a reputation. Charismatic, but dangerous. You don’t want to be on his radar.”

You nod, thanking the guard before turning to leave. The encounter with Park Jongseong, brief as it was, has left a deep impression. You replay the guard’s words in your mind, a cautionary tale that echoes with the reality of the world you’ve just stepped out of.

But you’re so over listening to everyone’s advice, allowing your body to rule your head for a moment. Maybe this is your chance to break free from the shackles of your life and enter a new world of freedom.

Even if it is with someone behind bars.

_____

You sit in the visiting room, the sterile environment starkly contrasting with the elegance of your outfit. You're wearing a pastel blue Versace dress, its delicate fabric clinging to your figure in all the right places, the intricate design showcasing a blend of sophistication and subtle allure. The dress features a fitted bodice with delicate lace details, the skirt flowing gracefully to just above your knees. The soft, cool hue of the dress enhances the warmth of your skin and the high neckline adds an air of modesty.

Your heartbeat feels like a defining accessory, pounding in your chest, a constant reminder of your anticipation. Normally, visiting your father doesn’t elicit such a reaction - your heart maintains a steady rhythm, the meetings imbued with sadness and routine. 

But today is different. Today, you aren't here to see your father. You're waiting for the man who shared a fleeting moment with you two weeks ago, the memory of his intense gaze still fresh in your mind.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one amplifying the tension coursing through you. Your eyes keep darting to the door, waiting for it to open and reveal the man whose presence had left such an indelible mark on you. The guards move about their routines, the clinking of keys and distant echoes of conversations creating a backdrop to your restless thoughts.

This is a bad idea, probably your most foolish one, but you had to see him just once more to truly understand the leap your heart performed when you looked at him for the first time. You have never gone against your father’s wishes of staying out of trouble, but this was an itch you couldn’t ignore, the pull towards the felon all too real.

Your emotions are a chaotic cocktail of anticipation, fear, and excitement. The adrenaline rush is almost dizzying, your heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to leave, to not get involved with someone so dangerous, but the other part - the part that felt an inexplicable connection - can’t bear the thought of walking away without understanding what it is about him that draws you in so powerfully.

You glance down at your hands, noticing how they tremble slightly. You clasp them together in your lap, trying to steady yourself. The fabric of your dress feels soft and cool against your skin, a contrast to the heat coursing through your veins. You shift in your seat, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but every small sound in the room heightens your awareness, keeping you on edge.

As each second drags on, the waiting becomes almost unbearable. Doubts creep in - what if he doesn’t remember you? What if this was all just a meaningless encounter for him? But then you recall the intensity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, so why wouldn’t he remember you?

You tell yourself that this is more than simply gratifying a passing curiosity; it's about understanding the electrifying connection you felt. It's about breaking free, even if only for a moment, from the bounds of your usual, routine existence.

Your father’s voice echoes in your mind, warning you about the dangers of straying from the straight and narrow path. You’ve always been the good girl, the one who follows the rules, but something about Park Jongseong makes you want to throw caution to the wind. There’s a thrilling allure in the forbidden, in stepping outside your comfort zone to explore the unknown.

When the buzzer sounds around the room, you jump slightly even though you have heard that klaxon indicating the unlocking of the door numerous times over the years. But this isn’t a polite chit-chat with your dad; this is a meeting with a man whose crimes you don't know the extent of, nor how dangerous he truly is, all because you got fanny flutters.

The prisoners filter through, each one going to their respective visitors with longing and hurried speed. Then, Jongseong waltzes in, his hands cuffed in front of him. His navy, ill-fitted trousers, paired with a tight white v-neck that showcases just enough of his chest to let your imagination run wild and non-styled hair give him a dishevelled yet irresistibly handsome appearance. His dark eyes scan the room, exuding a sense of confidence and dominance.

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs over as you try to compose yourself and stop tears from escaping down your legs. Prison boys have never done anything for you, but Jongseong is on another level of attraction.

The room feels hotter, the air thicker, as your anxiety spikes like you’re playing a brutal game of emotional volleyball and you are always on the losing side. Jongseong whispers something to the guard beside him, his voice low and smooth but indecipherable. The guard glances your way, then points directly at you, making your heart race even faster, like you’re suddenly under the spotlight of an interrogation room.

Jongseong’s eyes land on you, and a smug smile spreads across his face. There's a flicker of surprise and confusion flashing across his features, but it quickly vanishes, replaced by that same predatory gleam you remember. He strides over to you with a casual arrogance, his every movement exuding confidence.

As he reaches the booth, he throws himself into the seat opposite you, the long chain connecting his hands and feet skate along the floor. He leans back, his eyes never leaving yours, the cuffs around his wrists clinking softly with the movement. The intensity of his gaze makes you feel as if the rest of the room has faded away, leaving just the two of you in this charged, electric moment.

Reaching for the phone, he places it against his ear and waits for you, chewing his gum leisurely, his eyebrows raised in an expectant arch. Your body remains still, paralysed by the magnetism of his presence, his pupils like black holes, sucking you into his hold. For a few beats of your heart, you can’t move, his gaze pinning you in place with an almost hypnotic intensity.

Finally, you gather the courage to lift the receiver, your hand trembling slightly as you bring it to your ear. The action feels monumental, the weight of the phone a tangible connection between you and the enigmatic man before you. As soon as you do, Jongseong smirks, leaning his elbows casually on the ledge behind the glass panel.

“Now who are you?” he inquires, devouring your appearance with trailing glances.

“...My name is Y/N,” you reply so softly he almost doesn’t catch it coming through the receiver. 

"Well, Y/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He drawls, his voice a low, lazy murmur tinged with amusement. His eyes gleam with a mix of curiosity and wickedness, and the leer never leaves his face.

You remain silent, the words caught in your throat as you grapple with the swirl of emotions and thoughts racing through your mind. His half grin widens and he tilts his head slightly, still chewing his gum with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Okay, let me rephrase,” he says, his tone shifting to a mockingly thoughtful one. “What is a little lamb like you, requesting to see a big bad wolf like me for? Do we know each other?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and charged, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies your reaction. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat in your ears, a relentless drum that amplifies the tension between you. His words, laced with a blend of sarcasm and genuine intrigue, challenge you to respond and also hurt your chest a smidge. You have been thinking about this man who you saw for a maximum of 20 seconds for the past fortnight, dreaming about him and finding ways to get a visitor’s badge to see him and you probably haven’t passed his mind once.

Taking a deep breath, you find your voice, albeit shaky. “No…we don’t know one another,” you admit, suddenly realising the insanity of this whole ordeal. You begin to bite your lip and inwardly curse yourself for being so reckless.

“Then why are you here? ... Fuck, are you the lawyer they keep trying to pounce on me?” The sudden defensiveness in his words gets your attention, the sharpness of his voice creating a tremble in your legs. He is slowly putting his guard up the more he looks over your expensive outfit, drawing conclusions about you in his mind as he mistakes you for someone he would rather jab himself in the eye than see.

Quickly, your eyes widen, and you shake your hand up in defence. “No, no, no. I’m not a lawyer,” you explain, rushing the words out of your mouth to halt the wall he is placing between you. “I just-I want to get to know you.”

He pauses, the tension in his posture easing slightly, but his eyes remain wary. “Get to know me?” he repeats, his tone conveying scepticism and enlivened curiosity. “And why is that, darlin’?”

You swallow hard, your heart still racing and now paired with an uncomfortableness in your underwear as he calls you the endearing nickname, his accent filtering through your ears like your favourite song. “I don’t know,” you confess, looking down at your lap. 

It’s pathetic, you know it, but you don’t know why. Well, you know you had to see him because your brain is insufferable and will not let you forget anything of the man’s existence, but that is all the reason you have come to see him, all it took for you to want to delve into his life. If you told him that, he would either see you as pathetic or easy prey.

“You don’t know?” he echoes back to you with a laugh, his body fully unguarded once again. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. It is at this moment that the penny drops as to who you are, his finger starting to wag as he leans back in the chair with an elated beam on his face.

“You were here when they carted me in.” The fact sits between you as it kisses a blush over your face in embarrassment, his realisation of your identity now suddenly making you wish that the ground would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. “Did you like what you saw that much, you just had to come see it up close?”

Jongseong’s eyes glint with amusement, the smugness radiating off him like heat waves off asphalt. He leans back further, making himself comfortable, his chains clinking softly against the chair. His body language oozes confidence, the kind that borders on arrogance, and his grin stretches wide, revealing perfectly aligned teeth that contrast heavily with the dark intensity of his gaze.

“Look at you, all flustered,” he teases, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “I must’ve made quite an impression, huh?”

Your mind races, searching for an answer that feels as elusive as he is. He chuckles softly, the sound rich and full, vibrating through the phone line and into your very core. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” he says, his tone almost gentle now. “Your eyes tell me everything I need to know.”

His self-belief is unshakable, a fortress built on years of navigating the rough waters of his life. The smugness in his manner is not just arrogance but a well-honed weapon, a way to keep people at bay while drawing them in. He knows the power he holds, and he wields it with a finesse that leaves you both disarmed and intrigued.

“Okay,” he leans forward again, his face so close to the glass panel that you wish it would disappear, allowing you to admire his features without the glare from the overhead lights as they dance annoyingly on the shield. “Let me tell you a few things about me. My name is Park Jongseong, although you already know that, don't you, darlin’?” 

He pauses, his gaze lingering on you with a disconcerting intensity as you shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny. How else could you have possibly arranged a visit with him? The question flashes across his face, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. After all, as far as he knew, only family could visit him and fuck knows where they are. So how did you manage to worm your way in?

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. He nods knowingly before continuing. "I'm 22, been in and out of here about four times. I love romantic walks on the beach, and before you ask, it was car theft." The words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and trepidation. His casual confession answers most of your unspoken questions, including the big one: why he was here. The revelation that he wasn’t in for something more sinister like murder eases some of your apprehension. Your heartbeat steadies and you feel a strange sense of relief mixed with the undeniable pull towards him.

The glass between you seems to distort, creating a shimmering mirage. Every word, every glance is charged with electricity. It's reckless, dangerous, but the allure is intoxicating. He studies you, his eyes drinking in your flushed cheeks and trembling lips. Leaning closer, he whispers into the phone, his voice a husky caress, "You're fucking beautiful. I could eat you alive."

The words are a cold reminder of the guard's chilling warning. Yet, instead of fear, you feel a thrill of defiance. Before you can stop yourself, you whisper back, "Why don't you?"

Surprised by your own boldness, you feel your face heat up even more. Jongseong’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of astonishment crossing his features before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. “You’d like that, huh?” he asks cheekily, poking his tongue to his cheek.

He spots the cross hanging around your neck and shakes his head in disbelief. “Darlin’, you’re a good girl, I can tell. So why the fuck are you trying to play with me?”

His question hangs in the air, challenging you. You can feel his eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. The intensity of his gaze, combined with the unexpected boldness that had surged through you moments ago, leaves you speechless for a second.

"I..." you begin, your voice trembling slightly. "I don't know. Maybe because for once, I want to do something reckless. Something just for me."

He chuckles a deep, throaty sound that reverberates through the phone. "Oh, so you’re saying I’m just for you? That I can give you what you crave?” His voice is dripping in seduction and you are pretty sure you’re dripping on the stool you’re uncomfortably shifting on. “You’re playing with fire, little lamb. You sure you can handle the heat?"

The challenge in his tone ignites something inside you. You nod slowly, eyes locking onto his. "I'm not afraid of being burnt." You are, in fact, scared of a little heat but the thumping of your heart and the lightness of your head right now is a feeling you want to experience again and again, and you know for certain that the only person in this world that can give you this exhilaration is the criminal in front of you.

Jongseong's eyes hold a captivating potency as he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over the glass. "We'll see about that," he murmurs, a low, dangerous promise. "But be careful what you wish for, darling. Once you step into the fire, there's no turning back." His words hang heavy in the air, a tantalising mix of threat and allure.

Just then, the harsh clang of a metal object against the door shatters the intimate atmosphere. "Visiting time's over!" a guard's voice booms through the room. A wave of disappointment washes over you, a bittersweet pang as the realisation of impending separation hits you hard. Time flew by far too fast and you felt like you didn’t even get to scratch the surface of what you wanted this meeting to be

The playful arrogance in his eyes softens, replaced by a vulnerability you hadn't expected. "Hey," he begins gently, his voice a stark contrast to his usual bravado. "I'm out in three months." The words hang suspended in the air, a promise that ignites a spark of hope within you. “Wait for me, yeah?” he asks, his eyes searching yours for an answer. Despite the softness, there's a flicker of his usual cockiness in his gaze, as if he already knows your answer. “Come on, you know you want to. I’m worth it.”

You nod, your throat too tight to speak. The guard’s voice booms again, and you know you have to go. The brute of a man is already making his way over to Jongseong to escort him back to his cell. Jongseong stands up, still holding the phone, and smiles a mock-innocent grin at you.

“Take care, darlin’,” he says, his voice a soft caress that sends shivers down your spine. “And don’t go fucking around while I’m gone. I’d hate to have to get done for murder.” A mischievous glint dances in his eyes, a reminder of the man he is and that he has made you his own from here on out.

His words are a blend of a promise and a threat, leaving you breathless. The guard finally reaches him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and pulling him back. Jongseong doesn’t resist, but his eyes stay locked on yours until the last possible moment, a smirk playing on his lips.

As the guard leads him away, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you - excitement, trepidation, and a strange sense of belonging. The connection between you and Jongseong is undeniable, and the anticipation of what’s to come only heightens the tension. 

You hang up the phone and stand, your legs feeling unsteady. As you make your way out of the visiting room, the reality of your decision settles over you. Jongseong has already left an indelible mark on your heart. And as much as he has claimed you, you realise with a surge of confidence that you have claimed him too.

And you’ll patiently wait as long as you have to.

_____

The sun blazes overhead, its subtle heat beating down as you sit on the hood of your car outside the prison gates. Your outfit is casual yet sexy: a form-fitting red tank top with mesh detailing paired with high-waisted denim shorts that accentuate your curves, knowing Jongseong will appreciate the effort. You’ve learned a lot about him over the past three months through your almost daily phone calls. Conversations about life, likes, dislikes, and everything in between have built a connection that transcends the barriers of the prison walls.

The memories of those short but impactful conversations play through your mind as you wait. Jongseong's deep voice details his favourite songs, the foods he craves, and the gossip around the cell blocks. You remember laughing together over his stubborn insistence that dark chocolate is superior to milk and the surprising revelation that he actually does like to walk along the beach and it wasn’t just a sarcastic comment the first day you met him.

There was that one agonising week when you couldn't reach him. The anxiety had eaten at you until you finally learned he'd been thrown into the hole for an outburst with another prisoner. The story came out later: a dispute over the weight bench had escalated until Jongseong had whacked the guy over the head with a dumbbell as a result of testing his patience. It was a reminder of the world he was still entangled in, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he is in prison for a crime and that you both aren’t just long-distance lovers.

Seeing him in person had been almost impossible due to the strict visiting rules regarding family members being the only ones who could visit. But you weren’t deterred. With a little persuasion and a few hundred pounds slipped to the right people, you managed one precious visit. The memory of him that day is vivid: a busted lip, a black eye, and a new tattoo of a dagger with a dragon wrapped around it. The sight had sent your pulse racing. Despite the bruises, or perhaps because of them, he had never looked hotter. You’d been tempted to break the glass and pounce on him right then and there.

Although you still have some fear about injecting him into your peaceful life, you can’t deny the happiness you feel when he calls or the flutter in your stomach when he makes a slightly lewd comment describing exactly what he is going to do to you once he gets his hands on you. 

You know you’re in for a wild ride in every sense of the word.

Luckily for you, you don’t have to wait too long because, right on time, you hear the gates open with a strained creak and yet, your heartbeats are somehow louder. The door of the gates swings open with a groan, revealing Jongseong. He's wearing the same black polo and fitted black trousers you saw him in that first day, now with an added black duffle bag slung over his shoulder. The sight of him makes your heart quicken and throat close up as anxiety, both good and bad, courses through you. He looks every bit as dangerous and enticing as you remember, his stride strong and purposeful.

The closer he gets to you, the more urgent his steps become. His eyes lock onto yours with an ardour that makes your breath catch. He can’t wait to finally hold you in his arms, to feel your skin touching his. The world around you fades away, leaving only the magnetic pull between you two.

You jump down from the hood of the car, your legs slightly wobbly with excitement and nerves. Jongseong reaches you in a few long steps, chucking his duffle bag to the ground without a second thought. His hands grasp your face, fingers spreading out to cup your cheeks and jaw, his touch both firm and tender. The heat of his palms sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively lean into him, your hands finding purchase on his broad chest.

His pupils blaze with longing and something deeper, more primal. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones as he holds you in place, as if grounding himself in the reality of your presence. He can’t quite believe you’re here and that he can finally know what you feel like. The air between you crackles with unspoken desire and the pent-up tension of months just out of reach.

"Fuck. Hi, darlin’," he whispers, mouth slightly open and eyes shaking. Part of him can’t fathom that you waited for him; most girls he fucks with never keep their promises to stay his, too scared to actually tag along in his life, but you did because that’s the kind of good girl you are: forever loyal and faithful.

"Hi, Jongseong," you smile softly, any fear you had now replaced with glee. The way his eyes are drinking you should scare you, the same way they did that day three months ago, but now it makes you feel wanted and desired in a way no other person has ever made you feel. 

Call it the growth of character and a desperate need for the man in front of you.

Jongseong's eyes darken as he watches you wet your lips, anticipation crackling in the air between you. His gaze locks onto your mouth, and then suddenly, without giving you a moment to react, his lips crash against yours with a fervent urgency. His hands thread through your hair, fingers tangling as he tugs your head back. The motion elicits a gasp from you, and he takes full advantage, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore and conquer.

The kiss is wild, messy, and breathtaking. His tongue moves against yours with a possessive hunger, claiming every inch as if staking his territory. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mesh of his unique flavour and mint that leaves you dizzy. His lips move with a bruising intensity, sucking and biting, leaving your mouth tingling and swollen.

You moan into the kiss, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, needing something to anchor yourself as the world spins around you. The force of his kiss, the way he devours you, sends a rush of heat straight to your core, making you ache with need. Every brush of his tongue against yours, every pull and nip of his lips, fans the flames of your desire higher and higher.

Jongseong's hands slide from your hair to your waist, pulling you flush against his body. You can feel the hard planes of his chest against your softer curves, the heat of him searing through your clothes. His touch is both rough and tender, a dichotomy that leaves you craving more.

The kiss deepens, growing more frantic and desperate. It's as if he's trying to pour three months of pent-up longing and frustration into this one moment, and you respond with equal fervour. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you.

Never in your life have you been kissed like this. The rush and excitement tingle all over your body as his large hands dig into your skin, his fingers pressing firmly into your back, grounding you in the intensity of the moment. His tongue strokes against your own in a heated dance, each movement eliciting a new wave of desire that courses through you.

Your ex-boyfriend gave you soft pecks and gentle arm rubs, leaving you wondering if you even wanted to be with him. Those kisses were perfunctory, lacking the fire that now burns between you and Jongseong. This heated exchange, this raw, unbridled passion, makes you understand just how much you can crave a person.

Your own hands roam over his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric. Every touch, every brush of his lips against yours, ignites a spark that sets your entire being ablaze. You feel like you could drown in this moment, in the intensity of his desire and the way it mirrors your own.

Jongseong breaks the kiss just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as you both pant heavily. His eyes are filled with a mix of lust and seduction. It makes you want to keep kissing him until your lips fall off, your mouth missing the invasion of his tongue suddenly.

As you go to lean in once again, he pulls back and shakes his head, a cocky smile plastered on his face. Your heart drops for a minute, thinking about how you might be too needy for him, too clingy. It was a constant complaint from your last boyfriend, so that insecurity bubbles up to the surface.

“No, baby,” Jongseong says, his voice low and teasing, his smile widening at your puzzled expression. “Not unless you want me to fuck you in front of the guard back there.”

Your cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson, embarrassment and excitement mingling to create depth to the shade. You cast a quick glance over your shoulder, spotting the guard lingering a few feet away. Jongseong twists his body to give the officer a final wave, his gesture a clear, arrogant fuck-you to both authority and the system that has confined him. His smirk is one of satisfaction, and it only makes you shiver more, feeling the raw energy that radiates off him.

As the guard’s eyes follow Jongseong’s movement with disapproval and curiosity, Jongseong finally pulls his gaze back to you. His hand moves to grab his duffle bag, lifting it with effortless ease before sliding his arm over your shoulder in a possessive, almost protective manner. The touch of his arm against your skin sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you instinctively lean into his side, savouring the closeness and warmth of his body.

“Come on,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, commanding murmur, suddenly turning slightly serious despite the small smile on his face. “We gotta stop somewhere real quick.”

_____

Stepping out of the car, Jongseong takes your hand and leads you towards a diner. The building has a certain charm despite its rundown appearance. The paint is peeling in places, and the sign flickers intermittently. Only a few patrons occupy the scattered booths inside, which is slightly strange considering it’s the middle of the day and diners like this are typically occupied by teenagers and first dates.

Which is exactly why you are so excited. This is your first real date with Jongseong, and you cannot wait to get to know him on a deeper level. Although you would say you know him pretty well, all those 15-minute-a-day calls have done wonders for learning about each other, but this isn’t time-restricted or monitored by guards; this opens up the opportunity for a pure and unfiltered conversation with him.

Peering up at him, you see his relaxed manner and smile. You will never know what it is like to be locked up, but you can imagine how draining it can be - the kiss of freedom from the air must uplift his spirit. 

As you walk into the diner, the chequered floor and the nostalgic aroma of coffee and fried food fill the air. The decor is dated, with vinyl booths and Formica tables, but there's a certain cosiness to it. You expect Jongseong to lead you to a booth so you can have your long-awaited date, but instead, he guides you through the diner's main area, straight towards the kitchen. 

You glance around, confused. "Where are we going?" you ask, looking back at him.

"Just some business, then you'll have me all to yourself, alright?" he replies with a wink, giving your knuckles a soft kiss before continuing forward.

You follow him, weaving through the bustling kitchen. The clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of food on the grill, and the chatter of the chefs create a cacophony of sounds. Jongseong nods and exchanges brief greetings with a few of the cooks, who glance at you curiously before returning to their tasks. One chef, a burly man with a white apron smeared with grease, gives Jongseong a nod of recognition and jerks his head to the door coming into view.

Finally, Jongseong pushes open a heavy metal door at the back of the kitchen, revealing a starkly different environment. The room beyond is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of smoke and something more acrid. It is filled with brute-looking men, one of them is counting a stack of money with deliberate precision, his thick fingers moving with practised ease, while the others eye Jongseong and you with cold, assessing gazes.

The atmosphere is tense; you feel suffocated, if not by the smoke, then by the glares you are currently receiving. Something tells you that these men and Jongseong are not on the best of terms.

The man counting the money looks up, his eyes narrowing slightly. He has a thick, muscular build, and a scar runs down the side of his face, giving him a permanently grim expression. “Park fucking Jongseong,” he chides, placing the notes down on the table beside him. “Where the fuck did you go?”

“Aw, did you miss me, Bang?” Jongseong fake pouts, jutting out his bottom lip. “I’m touched, really.”

Standing up, Bang towers over the table, his broad shoulders casting an imposing shadow. His eyes, dark and unyielding, bore into Jongseong with a mixture of contempt and curiosity. 

Jongseong, however, remains unfazed. His casual demeanour contrasts sharply with the palpable hostility in the room. He releases your hand and takes a step forward, his movements deliberate and confident. “I was in the slammer for a few, you know how it is,” he says coolly, like losing months of his life to prison bars was as casual as forgetting to pick up milk from the shop run. “I’m here for my money.”

Bang scoffs a low, guttural sound that reverberates through the room. “What fucking money? you waltz back in here like I owe you something, is that it?” He crosses his arms over his chest, muscles bulging under the strain. “You’ve got some nerve.”

Jongseong’s smile doesn’t waver. “I’ve always had nerve, Bang. And you owe me for the car that put me behind bars.” He glances back at you, his eyes softening for a moment before returning to the hardened stare of his adversary.

You stand rooted to the spot, your heart pounding in your chest. The smoky air feels even thicker now, each breath a struggle. The men shift slightly, their eyes flicking between Jongseong and Bang, anticipating the next move, like they’re awaiting instructions.

You’ve seen scenarios like this play out in movies and even then do you hate the feeling it gives in your stomach, so now watching the movie play out in real life makes you feel a little nauseous because you know this can only end badly.

Bang’s lips curl into a sneer. “You’re demanding I pay you for that piece of shit car? The one with the kicked-in engine? Mate, you’re fucking delusional. That car couldn’t have even paid your pathetic bail.”

“You asked me for that specific car, I delivered, now give me my money.” Jongseong’s calm and cocky aura suddenly shifts to a dangerous one, one you hadn’t quite prepared yourself to see. Of course, you knew this side existed; you don’t survive multiple bouts in prison without developing an edge. But witnessing it firsthand is something else entirely.

His posture changes, shoulders squared and jaw set, exuding a raw, unfiltered intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. The room seems to shrink around the two men, their confrontation a silent battle of wills. The other men at the table straighten up, sensing the shift in tension, readying themselves to pounce as soon as their boss gives a signal.

This is bad.

Placing your hand on his arm, you draw his focus to you. Your eyes gleam up at him, silently conveying worry. “Jongseong, let’s just leave it, you just got out,” you plead as your head shakes in disapproval. If there was one thing you have learned from the stories Jongseong has told you, it’s that his temper is a short fuse, and with the lock on his jaw, you know he is a few seconds away from exploding.

His eyes soften momentarily as he looks at you, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if to rein in his anger. For a brief moment, it seems like the confrontation is over. But before you can even attempt to lead him out of the room and back to your car, Bang’s voice cuts through the air, dripping with derision. “Yeah, Park, listen to your bitch before I set my men on both of you.”

The words hang in the air, a malicious echo that sends a chill down your spine. Jongseong stops dead in his tracks, his body going rigid. You feel the shift instantly, his muscles tensing under your hand.

The calm exterior he had tried to maintain shatters. Jongseong whirls around, eyes blazing with fury. “What the fuck did you just say?” he snarls, his voice low and dangerous, a stark contrast to the calm, controlled tone he had used before.

Bang smirks, leaning back in his chair, clearly relishing the reaction he’s provoked. “You heard me. I said listen to your slutty side piece before I make sure you both can’t walk again,” he repeats, his voice dripping with contempt. “Did that hit a nerve?”

Before you can react, Jongseong lunges forward, his fist connecting with Bang’s jaw with a sickening thud. The force of the punch sends Bang sprawling to the floor, the chair skidding across the room. The men around you jump to attention, but no one makes a move to intervene, their eyes wide with shock.

“You don’t ever threaten my girl like that,” Jongseong growls, standing over Bang, who is struggling to get up. “Ever.”

You can’t deny the fuzziness in your stomach when he claims you as his girl. The simple slip of the tongue somehow drowns out his outlandish actions. Bang deserved it after all.

Bang wipes a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes blazing with a mix of pain and rage. “You’re gonna regret that, Park,” he spits out, though there's an unmistakable tremor of fear in his voice now. With a snap of his fingers, his men spring into action, advancing toward Jongseong with menacing intent.

Jongseong steps back, his stance shifting into a defensive posture, muscles coiled and ready. “Darlin’, go wait in the car, I’ll be out in a minute,” he murmurs, his gaze locked onto the advancing men. His arm is outstretched to shield you, the veins in his forearm prominent as he tenses.

You hesitate, torn between the urge to stay by his side and the instinct to protect him despite his obvious capability. “But-”

“Be a good girl,” Jongseong’s voice is firm yet gentle, laced with a protective urgency. He meets your gaze with a stern but concerned look that brooks no argument. With a heavy heart and a lump in your throat, you nod reluctantly, stepping back into the kitchen.

Your eyes remain glued to him, a mix of fear and helplessness tightening in your chest. The seconds tick by slowly, each moment feeling like an eternity as Jongseong prepares to face off against men far larger and more intimidating than any security guard or gym bro you’ve ever encountered.

The room’s atmosphere thickens with tension as the men close in on Jongseong. One of them, a burly figure with arms like tree trunks, grabs hold of Jongseong, his grip like iron. Jongseong struggles against the man’s hold, his muscles straining as he fights to break free.

Another of Bang’s men seizes the opportunity, delivering a brutal punch to Jongseong’s midsection. The impact sends a sharp gasp through the air, and you watch in horror as Jongseong’s body lurches from the blow. His face contorts in pain, but he doesn’t give in, still trying to break free from the grip holding him back.

From your vantage point, you can only watch in helpless horror as the fight unfolds. Jongseong’s strength and skill are evident, but the overwhelming numbers and sheer size of his opponents make it daunting. Each punch landed on him seems to resonate with a bone-deep impact, and the grunts and shouts of the men create a chaotic symphony of violence.

The sight of Jongseong, usually so composed and confident, struggling against the odds is almost too much to bear. You want to rush in, to do something, anything to help, but the kitchen's doorway feels like an insurmountable barrier. Your heart races, your breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps as you watch the scene unfold.

Jongseong’s eyes meet yours briefly, a flicker of reassurance in their stormy depths even as he endures another punishing blow. The look he gives you is a silent promise that he will get through this, that he’s fighting not just for himself, but for both of you. He will be damned if any of these men thought for a second that it was acceptable to threaten you or lay a finger on your precious body - especially not since he has just found out how beautifully soft your skin feels on his fingertips, or how perfectly your lips mesh with his own.

With a strained grunt, Jongseong uses his legs to kick out at his assailants, creating a brief moment of respite. His body, still taut from the impacts, is hunched and battered, but his spirit remains unyielding. He turns to face you, his voice a mix of anger and desperation cutting through the cacophony. “Y/N, get the fuck out of here!” he yells, his command urgent and fierce.

Nodding frantically, you stumble back, your breath hitching as you watch Jongseong throw a sharp, decisive punch at the man who had been holding him back. The impact sends the man staggering, giving Jongseong a brief but crucial reprieve. The fight rages on around him, but for a moment, his focus is entirely on you.

You retreat through the kitchen, your mind spinning with fear and helplessness. Your only thought is to get to safety, to ensure Jongseong’s instructions are followed. You burst through the back door and into the parking lot, the air cold against your flushed skin despite the sun still blaring.

Once outside, you hurry to the car, your mind racing. The dim light of the diner’s parking lot does little to ease the anxiety curling in your stomach. You can’t help but worry about Jongseong - about what’s happening inside and whether he’ll come out unscathed.

You lean against the car, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you glance anxiously towards the diner. The minutes stretch on interminably, amplifying the knot of worry in your stomach. The tense stillness seems almost unbearable, and just as the fear of the worst begins to grip you, you see Jongseong’s figure finally emerge through the door.

He strides towards you, each step purposeful but burdened. His face is a canvas of bruises and blood, his eyebrow bleeding in a thin streak that trails down his cheek. The sight of him, battered and raw, sends a shiver of dread through you. You can barely hold back the tears as you rush forward.

“Oh my god, Jongseong-” The words tumble out, laced with a mix of relief and anguish, but they are abruptly cut off as Jongseong’s lips crash onto yours. His kiss is fierce and demanding, a raw burst of emotion that takes you completely by surprise.

His hands are strong and desperate as they frame your face, his touch scorching against your skin. The kiss is so hungry, so primal, that it eclipses the first kiss you shared, which is hard to believe if you weren’t the one on the receiving end. The intensity of it is overwhelming, the force of his need evident in every movement. He pulls you closer, his lips moving with an urgent, almost frantic rhythm.

As he deepens the kiss, his hand trails down from your face to his own throat, his fingers gripping the base of his neck. The gesture is both intimate and possessive, reminding you that he called you his girl and fought on behalf of you. The thoughts add another layer of desire from your end, the protectiveness he already has over you despite only knowing you for a hot minute makes your skin tingle with glee.

Every sensation is amplified - the rough texture of his lips against yours, the heated pulse of his touch, and the faint tremor of excitement in his frame. You can taste the salt of his sweat and the faint metallic tang of blood from his cuts mingling with the warmth of his breath. His other hand moves to your lower back, pulling you tighter against him, his body pressing firmly into yours.

Jongseong had forgotten how much of a thrill he got from fighting, the way seeing the blood splatter - from both his rival and himself - made him feel alive. It had been too long since he had a good kick like this, the prison scraps he would be part of were nothing like this, too weak and pathetic. This is the kind of adrenaline he wanted, one when he didn’t know if he would make it out alive. But he knew he had to, for your sake.

The image of you flashed in his mind as he was pummelling into the men and Bang. The thought of dragging you into this dangerous world gnaws at him, but it’s a burden he’s willing to bear. He can’t imagine asking you to walk away, even though he knows he’s pulling you into a dangerous world with wicked consequences.

Jongseong pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath heavy and laboured. The heat in his gaze is unmistakable, an intense blend of desire and desperation. Blood smears across your cheek where his fingers had been, the sight and scent adding something raw to the moment. He never wants to see you hurt, but the blood smudged on your skin makes his blood run thinner with lust.

He gets horny when he is riled up like this, that much is evident by the way he is suddenly pushing you against the car and pressing his growing erection into your lower abdomen. The cold metal of the car against your back is a stark contrast to the heat of his body, a jarring reminder of the reality you're in, yet it only heightens the sensations coursing through you.

Jongseong's lips return to yours, more aggressive and demanding as he tries to consume you entirely. His hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, fingers digging into your skin with a need that borders on feral. The bruises on his knuckles brush against your flesh, a rough reminder of the fight he's just endured for you. His touch is searing, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

A low, guttural groan escapes him as he grinds his hips into yours, the friction sparking a desperate ache deep within you. Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling him closer, as if you could fuse your bodies together. 

His name falls from your lips in a breathless whisper, a plea and a promise all at once. Jongseong responds with a growl, his lips trailing down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks that claim you as his. His hands roam lower, gripping your thighs and lifting you slightly, pressing you harder against the car.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he whispers into your mouth with promise. He means this both figuratively and physically. He is going to lead you down a dark path, and he can’t say he’s even the slightest bit sorry about it.

Without warning, he swings the backseat door open and tosses you in, his strength overwhelming. You barely have time to catch your breath before he's on top of you, the weight of his body pressing you into the seat, his hands moving with a desperate urgency. His lips find yours again, a hungry, demanding kiss that leaves you gasping.

The confined space of the car adds an extra layer of intensity, the heat between you palpable. Jongseong's hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, his fingers digging into your skin with a need that borders on feral. He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, "I need to taste you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a thrill of anticipation that leaves you trembling. He moves down your body, his lips and hands leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The car's interior feels too small, too hot, as he shifts between your legs, his eyes dark with desire as he looks up at you.

“You okay with this?” he asks, seeking consent. Your body language is enough to tell him that you want this probably as much as he does, but the thing is, he doesn’t know how much of a good girl you are. If no one else got to touch you like this, he would be ecstatic, but it also means you could want to take your time.

There is a flash in his eyes that makes your core pulse and has you nodding without thinking. “Yeah, I want this,” you whisper out, though it sounds like you’re bellowing the words through a megaphone, the desperation in your voice making sure of that.

Kissing along your stomach as his hands undo your shorts, his lips dipping lower as he pulls them off of you. “Has anyone had you before?” The tone of his voice is gritty and hoarse, swallowing his jealousy at even the thought. 

Just because he would be fine with it, doesn’t mean he can’t wish to curse any man that had the audacity to think they are worthy of being with you.

Swallowing the forming saliva in your mouth, his dangerous glare into your eyes tells you that perhaps you should lie and say no, that you haven’t had past lovers. But if he caught you lying, you think the repercussions might be worse than whatever will come if you tell him the truth.

“Yes, one.”

“How many times did he have you?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“How many times did he put his disgusting, unworthy mouth on you?”

Oh.

You physically shrivel up, feeling small under his intense stare and gripping hands. You can’t actually recall how many times your ex boyfriend went down on you but it can't be more than four times, claiming he didn’t see the point in it when he could just fuck you. Safe to say the sex you had with him was lacklustre.

“Not many,” you manage to whisper, feeling the heat of shame and anger rise in you. The memories of the past, the way you were neglected, seem to pale in comparison to the intensity Jongseong is offering you now. “Three times? Maybe four?”

“Well, which is it? Three or four?” he insists. His fingers dip into the band of your underwear, teasing your skin with a ghosting touch.

“Why? Does it matter?” This was absolutely the wrong follow-up question to ask because Jongseong’s eyes turn black, jaw setting into the same locked position it did earlier.

“So I know how many times I need to make you cum to wash him out of your system,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your underwear, the touch searing and electric against your skin. He pulls them down, tossing them aside with a careless flick of his wrist, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze is almost too much to bear, a raw hunger that leaves you breathless.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them apart with a possessiveness that sends a thrill of anticipation through you. The heat between your legs is unbearable, the need for his touch almost painful. His breath is hot against your skin as he trails kisses down your inner thigh, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

Jongseong’s lips hover just above your centre, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive parts, making you shiver with need. The anticipation is excruciating, every nerve ending screaming for his touch. 

“Tell me, how many?” he murmurs, holding back from diving in which is just as painful as it is for you.

“I really…I really don’t remember,” you reply honestly. No matter the number of times your ex-boyfriend was between your legs, he never made you cum anyway so that might have everything to do with the memory lapse.

Something tells you that you will remember exactly how many times Jongseong gets between your legs.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with determination. "Okay, I’ll make it five, just to be sure," he says, his voice rough with need. When his tongue finally makes contact, it’s like an electric shock, pleasure shooting through you in waves.

He works you over with a skill and intensity that leaves you gasping for breath. His tongue moves with purpose, each flick and swirl designed to draw out your pleasure. He knows exactly where to touch, how to lick, to drive you wild. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he devours you, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You arch against him, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could never get enough. His low, satisfied growls vibrate against you, adding another layer of sensation that leaves you trembling.

"Jongseong, please," you gasp, your voice shaky and filled with need. The world narrows down to the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his hands, and the waves of pleasure crashing over you. You can feel yourself spiralling towards the edge, every touch pushing you closer and closer.

Jongseong has a tongue and mouth simply made for eating pussy, and he is showing you just how someone should be licking and slurping at your sensitive area. Not even two minutes have passed and you can already feel the pressure of your orgasm building; a new record for you. Not even when you manage to find some alone time can you make yourself cum this quickly.

His mouth is relentless, tongue flicking and swirling with a precision that has you seeing stars. He alternates between gentle laps and firm, insistent strokes, each movement designed to push you higher and higher. His lips seal around your clit, sucking and releasing in a rhythm that leaves you gasping. The heat of his mouth, the roughness of his tongue, and the sheer determination in his every move send you spiralling towards ecstasy.

When the first orgasm hits, it’s like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Jongseong holds you through it, his mouth never leaving you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you’re left trembling. His hands grip your hips, anchoring you to the car seat as you ride out the waves of sensation.

But he doesn’t stop. His fingers find their way inside you, curling and stroking with a skill that has you begging for breath. He adds a second finger, then a third, stretching and filling you, making you deliciously overwhelmed. His tongue continues its assault on your clit, harshly flickering in tandem with the movements of his fingers.

“Jongseong, I-” you gasp, trying to form words through the haze of pleasure.

“I know, darlin’,” he growls, his voice vibrating against your skin. “I can feel you. Don’t hold back.”

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot with unerring precision, each stroke sending shivers up your spine. His tongue dances around your clit, alternating between gentle flicks and firm, insistent licks that have you teetering on the edge. The second orgasm comes even faster, your body hypersensitive from the first. It crashes over you, leaving you gasping and moaning his name. Jongseong’s mouth is relentless, his tongue and fingers never stopping, never giving you a moment to catch your breath. He knows exactly how to push you to the edge and then pull you back, prolonging the pleasure until you’re a quivering mess beneath him.

His determination is relentless. He pushes you through the third orgasm with the same intensity, his touch never faltering. He adds another layer to the sensation, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue and fingers continue their work. Each orgasm leaves you more breathless, more spent, until you’re a quakinh mess beneath him, gripping at his hair in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from euphoria.

“I need you to scream my name,” he murmurs against your folds, his voice dark and commanding. “I want everyone to know who’s making you feel this good.”

It is only at that moment you remember that Jongseong is eating you out in a diner car park where anyone can look in the window and see your lewd actions, never mind hear them.

But that doesn’t stop you obeying him.

The thrust of his fingers quickens as your juices begin to fly around in your car and drip down your leather seats, your essence acting like holy water as you bless the car with your backseat serenade. Your hand grips the silver cross around your neck as you curse the Lord's name in vain, the only thing you can worship right now is a criminal’s touch.

“Jjongie,” you mewl out, losing yourself to your lust and heat, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He smirks as you create a nickname in the midst of the pleasure, loving the way it sounds falling from your tongue. 

He will only ever let you call him that.

The fourth orgasm builds slowly, the pleasure mounting with every touch, every stroke. Jongseong’s fingers hit that perfect spot over and over again. His tongue dances across your clit as he makes his tongue rigid, each flick sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. You can feel the pressure building, the heat coiling in your belly, until it finally explodes, leaving you shuddering and gasping for breath.

“Jjongie, please,” you beg, your voice hoarse and broken. “I can’t take anymore.”

“Yes, you can,” he insists, his voice rough with desire. “You’re gonna give me one more. Just one more, darlin’.”

He keeps going, his mouth and fingers working together in a symphony of pleasure. The fifth orgasm is the most intense yet, your body extremely susceptible and on edge from the previous ones. He adds a fourth finger, stretching you wide, probably even wider than your ex’s cock ever did, his tongue working your clit with a precision that has you seeing venus. He uses his tongue apply pressure in ways that have you feeling every single nerve ending come alive. The pleasure builds and builds until it finally crashes over you, leaving you a quivering, trembling mess beneath him for the nth time.

When he finally pulls back, his lips and chin glistening with multiple layers of your arousal, he looks at you with a fierce, possessive pride. "There," he murmurs, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "Now you’re mine. Only mine."

He climbs up your body, his mouth finding yours in a searing kiss that tastes of you. The connection between you is electric, something beautiful. You fight the tiredness as you plaster a smile of happiness and contentment across your face, and he kisses all over your cheeks and lips, creating a line of adoration. His kisses are softer now, each one a tender promise.

As the initial rush of passion subsides, you finally take in the full extent of his injuries. His face is a canvas of bruises and cuts, each mark a testament to the fight he endured. Your fingers move gently, tracing the path of the blood streak on his eyebrow, smoothing over the swollen skin with care. The sight of him beaten like this makes your heart ache.

"Promise me you won't keep doing this?" you ask, your voice tinged with worry and desperation as you wipe the mixture of your slick and saliva from his mouth. Your eyes search his, pleading for an answer, a reassurance that he won’t put himself in harm's way again.

Instead of a verbal response, Jongseong leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one is soft, tender, and lingering. It speaks of unspoken promises and the turbulent emotions between you. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

Although you take the kiss as a sealed promise, you should know better than to trust a criminal.

_____

Walking out of your campus building, you see an unfamiliar car paired with a very familiar man waiting on the sidewalk. Jongseong leans against the sleek monochrome vehicle. He looks as confident and imposing as ever, with his hair gelled in his typical style and a fitted black T-shirt that shows off his tattoos, earning some judgmental glances from your peers.

You wave off your friends, a wide smile spreading across your face. Skipping down the stairs with glee, you bound towards him, unable to contain your excitement. The moment Jongseong spots your figure approaching, the hard stare and scowl he portrays vanish, replaced by an expression of equal joy to yours.

In the past month, you and Jongseong have grown incredibly close. Despite his semi-cold exterior and rough edges, there's a softer side to him that only you get to see. He's protective and loyal, his tough shell cracking open whenever you're around. The little things he does - like texting you as soon as he wakes up, remembering your favourite bands name, plus all the members, or listening to you read him excerpts from the book you divulge in while he works out - reveal a tenderness he rarely shows to anyone else.

Jongseong opens his arms, and you leap into them, wrapping your legs around his waist as he catches you effortlessly. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply, grounding himself in your presence. The onlookers judge, whispering among themselves, but neither of you cares. Being with each other is all that matters.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes.

He grins, a rare, genuine smile lighting up his face. "Couldn't stay away from my darlin’ too long, could I?" he murmurs, his voice a blend of affection and mischief. "Thought I'd surprise you."

You chuckle, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Well, paint me shocked."

Setting you down gently, he keeps his arms wrapped around your waist, not wanting to let you go just yet. “I thought we could drive out for a bit, I need to visit my bank for a…slight withdrawal,” he explains.

You nod, eyes twinkling. It doesn't matter what the errand is; any time spent with Jongseong feels like an adventure. Over the past month, you've done everything together: hitting the gym, shopping for your dorm kitchen, and running around to the post office to send some letters. Even mundane trips to the bank like this seem exciting when he's by your side.

As you both get into the front seats, you can't help but ask the million-dollar question, "Where did you get this car?"

Jongseong's life outside has been anything but easy; his criminal record makes it difficult for him to secure a steady job. Despite this, he's always trying, often because you push him to stay on the right path. You appreciate his efforts, knowing how much he resists resorting to his old ways. At least, as far as you know.

"Just a banger from one of my mates," he replies nonchalantly, as he starts the engine. "Nothing compared to yours."

"I think it suits you," you say, glancing around the shabby interior. The car is a patchwork of bumps and scratches, with a dashboard that's seen better days and seats that are well-worn and torn in places.

"Because it's battered and dented?" he quips, a teasing note in his voice.

"No," you respond, playfully hitting him on the arm. "Because it has a certain charm about it, if you look past the scrapes and cuts."

A shy, almost boyish grin settles upon Jongseong’s face, very much out of character for him. Considering you’re admitting to seeing past his rugged appearance and guarded heart, even through the guise of the car, he can’t help but appreciate the compliment. His fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel as he pulls out onto the road.

You settle back into your seat, watching the world pass by outside the window. The car rattles slightly, but it feels like an extension of Jongseong himself - rough around the edges, but with a hidden depth that you can't help but admire.

The journey takes you away from the hustle and bustle of the campus, the road stretching out for miles ahead. The landscape transforms into a picturesque scene painted with warm, golden hues. Sunlight bathes the rolling fields in a soft glow, casting long shadows that dance across the green grass. Farm animals graze contentedly within the sweeping wind, their movements leisurely and peaceful. The serene beauty of the countryside envelops you, a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts that often plague your mind.

As the scenery blurs by, you unlock your phone and realise you've been so caught up in sight-seeing that you hadn’t noticed how much time had passed. A slight furrow forms on your brow as you glance at the clock, wondering why on earth you are still driving.

"Your bank branch is really far away, Jongseong," you observe, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Yeah," he replies, placing a hand on your exposed leg, his touch warm and reassuring. "I guess it is, huh?"

His tone carries a weird, knowing look on his face, something that makes you sceptical but also intrigued. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes, one that you’ve come to recognise. It’s the look he gets when he’s planning something unexpected. Despite the small sliver of doubt in your mind, you decide not to question him further, choosing trust over anything else.

The road ahead twists and turns, each bend revealing more of the idyllic countryside. Birds soar in the sky, their songs adding a melodic backdrop to your journey. You find yourself relaxing into the seat, the comfort of Jongseong’s presence and the captivating landscape blending together into a perfect moment of tranquillity.

That moment is about to be severely interrupted.

Jongseong takes a sharp turn off the main road, driving down a narrow, gravelly path that leads to a run-down building in the middle of nowhere. The structure of the bank is weary and neglected, its facade chipped and the white stones which make up its exterior are now yellow with a mixture of smoke and years of tear. The windows are grimy, and the door doesn’t shut over as the hinges hold the doors askew. Weeds sprout through the cracks in the pavement, and the entire place exudes a sense of forgotten utility. You wonder who on earth decides to keep money here.

Jongseong pulls the car to a stop and gets out, jogging around to open the door for you. He helps you out with a gentle grip on your hand, his touch a stark contrast to the bleak surroundings. 

You notice the tension in his shoulders, his usually composed exterior seems frayed, much like the edges of the black duffle bag he retrieves from the backseat. The bag, reminiscent of the one he had when coming out of prison, is empty save for something weighing it down slightly. 

"What's that for?" you inquire, pointing to the duffle that is trapped in his tight grip.

"I'm just going to get a lot of money, that's all," he replies, smiling so innocently that it looks almost devious.

Why wouldn't he just keep it all his money in the bank in the first place? Places don't even usually take cash these days. You internally start to question, unable to suppress the growing unease. He is acting strange and suddenly, your gut isn’t feeling so happy.

Jongseong extends his hand, fingers stretched for you to interlock with his. His grip is firm, reassuring yet compelling. They are so big compared to yours that they practically swallow yours whole. As he starts to walk away, you can’t help but notice he isn’t locking the car. You know no one is around, but considering he used to steal cars for a living, you think he would know the dangers of leaving it out in the open like this.

Regardless of your apprehension, you follow him, the gravel crunching under your feet as you approach the run-down bank. Jongseong’s pace quickens, his body language a mix of urgency and confidence.

As you step inside, the air is stale, carrying the scent of mildew and old paper. The interior is dimly lit, dust particles dancing in the beams of sunlight. Surprisingly, there are people scattered in the foyer: an older couple who have to be in their late sixties and a man who exudes zero confidence, his pale complexion and silver-rimmed glasses, paired with his shrivelled frame.

The worst thing the man does is look at you for a second longer than Jongseong would like. Cracking his neck, Jongseong pulls you closer to him as he stares the man down, giving him a warning shot. Quickly, there are no eyes on you.

Jongseong is always like this, silently threatening any man who even dares to glance at you. One time, you were at the supermarket, innocently buying a bottle of wine and some Sensations chilli and lime crisps, when the clerk had the audacity to speak to you - it was just to ask if you needed help, that was too many words according to Jongseong. He had given the clerk a harsh look, his jaw clenched tightly as he pulled you closer, ensuring the man understood his silent message. The poor guy had paled, quickly ringing up your items without another word.

You glance around the run-down bank, taking in the cracked tiles and peeling wallpaper. The entire place feels like it’s on the verge of collapse. As you watch Jongseong, you notice him checking the duffle bag a few times, his eyes scanning the room with a sharp intensity. Something about his demeanour makes your stomach twist with unease.

"Jongseong, what are we actually doing here?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing anxiety.

"Darlin', I'm getting money, why else would we be here?" he laughs as if you’ve asked the dumbest question he has ever heard. His tone is light, but his eyes remain hard, focused.

You bite your lip, glancing around the room once more. The older couple is speaking softly to each other, their attention nowhere near you. The timid man with glasses is fiddling with his phone, his hands trembling slightly. Despite the seemingly mundane scene, your gut is yelling at you that something is terribly wrong and you think you know what it is.

"How are you getting the money?" you ask, the words catching in your throat. You’re scared to even pose the question due to the answer you might receive.

Jongseong doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he glances at you, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he turns his attention back to the bag. The silence stretches uncomfortably, and you can feel the tension in the air growing thicker.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the realisation dawning on you. “Jongseong, please, tell me we’re not here to-”

“Next,” the woman calls in front of you, breaking your chain of thought.

Jongseong gently unravels your intertwined hands and steps forward to the desk. The woman behind the counter looks up with a bored and disinterested expression, her fingers tapping impatiently on the worn-out surface.

“What can I help you with today?” she asks, her tone flat and mechanical.

Jongseong smiles brightly, tilting his head slightly as he leans closer. “I need you to put all the money in the bag,” he says, his voice smooth and sweet.

The woman furrows her brow in confusion, her mouth opening to question him, but the words die in her throat as Jongseong smoothly pulls a gun from the duffle bag and presses it to her forehead. His smile never falters, remaining charming and innocent, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

You feel your stomach drop, a cold wave of fear washing over you. Your hands tremble, and your breath catches in your throat. The world around you seems to blur, the edges of your vision darkening as panic sets in. You can hardly believe what’s happening. This isn’t the Jongseong you know, the one who holds you gently and kisses you tenderly. This is a side of him you’ve never seen, a side that terrifies you.

“Jongseong,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the rushing blood in your ears.

He doesn’t look at you, his focus entirely on the woman in front of him. With a calm and steady hand, he clicks the safety off the gun. “10s and 20s in the bag, love. Quickly.”

The woman’s eyes widen in fear, her hands trembling uncontrollably as she begins to gather the bills. The crisp rustling of paper fills the charged silence, punctuated only by the faint hum of the bank’s outdated air conditioning. Her movements are jerky and hurried, every action underscored by the mounting tension in the room. Her terrified gaze flits nervously between Jongseong and the duffle bag, reflecting the same panic you feel surging within you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice another bank worker, a woman in her late forties with a spiky haircut fit to rival Shirley Carter from Eastenders, sliding her hand toward the hidden panic button beneath the desk. Jongseong’s sharp eyes catch the movement instantly. With a swift, fluid motion, he pivots the gun’s direction, the barrel now pointed at the second worker. “Don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice cutting through the air like a razor blade.

The woman’s face drains of colour, her eyes widening in terror as she freezes mid-reach. Her fingers twitch nervously, the hand hovering inches from the button. You can see the palpable fear in her expression as her face goes slack, slowly withdrawing her hand to ensure her own safety, not daring to provoke Jongseong’s ire.

Turning back to you for a moment, Jongseong makes eye contact with you, winking in joy as if you are equally having as much fun as he is.

And the funny thing is, he can see it inside of you. Behind that fear, is a flash of thrill that even you haven’t registered. It’s something he can identify because it is the exact same look he has in his orbs when he does something that spikes his adrenaline. This is exactly why you came to him that day and the exact reason he has kept you by his side.

You’re cut from the same cloth, even if sewn to different clothes.   

As the woman finishes stuffing the bills into the bag, her hands moving with a frantic speed, Jongseong maintains his disarming smile, but the menace in his eyes betrays his calm demeanour. The bag grows heavy with the weight of the cash, the rustling paper now almost rhythmic, a morbid symphony underscoring the gravity of the situation.

When the woman finally slides the bulging duffle bag across the counter, her face pale and stricken, Jongseong’s fingers close around the handle with a sense of finality. He casts one last wary glance around the bank, his gaze briefly meeting yours with a reassuring nod that feels more like a promise of survival than comfort.

“Thanks for the service, sweetheart. Really, it has been class. I’ll write you a good Yelp review, for sure,” Jongseong's voice drips with arrogance and sarcasm, an unsettling calm underlying his criminal actions. He turns to you, his eyes intense yet strangely affectionate. “Let’s go, darlin’.”

With the duffle bag in hand, he leads you towards the exit, his grip on your wrist firm yet unyielding. Your legs feel like lead as you follow him, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the empty space. You glance back at the bank workers, their faces a portrait of fear and confusion, and you can't shake the crushing sense of guilt that weighs on your heart. Yet, there is a strange feeling of exhilaration that beats in your chest, a rush you’ve never felt before.

The two of you step back into the bleak daylight, and Jongseong’s car waits in the same spot. Now leaving it unlocked makes sense; you need to make a quick getaway. He opens the door for you with an almost gentlemanly gesture, though his eyes are still sharp, scanning the surroundings.

You both jump into the car, the doors slamming shut simultaneously. Jongseong hits the gas, the car lurching forward with a screech of tires. The engine roars to life as he maneuvers onto the road, the world outside blurring into a frenetic swirl of colours and shapes. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, adrenaline flooding your system. It's the closest to an existential crisis you’ve ever come, the reality of what just happened clashing violently with the surreal rush of it all.

Jongseong wears a shit-eating grin, his eyes sparkling with a dangerous glee as he speeds down the highway. He runs a hand through his hair, the strands falling back into place messily. Suddenly, he slams his palm on the steering wheel a few times in sheer excitement, his laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. “We fucking did it!” he exclaims, his voice filled with disbelief and triumph.

You look at him like he’s crazy, his entire being now radiating joy despite just committing a felony big enough to land him back in jail. Your mind races, a whirlwind of fear, excitement, and bewilderment. How could he be so thrilled, so elated, after what just happened? The exhilaration from moments ago is rapidly giving way to a gnawing anxiety, the reality of your actions sinking in.

"Pull over," you finally manage to say, your voice barely steady.

"What?" Jongseong's grin falters for a moment, confusion clouding his features.

"Pull over," you repeat, more forcefully this time.

"Do you want to get caught?" he snaps, acutely aware that the police have probably been alerted by now. His eyes dart to the rearview mirror, scanning for any signs of pursuit.

“I want to know what the fuck you think you’re doing.”

Jongseong’s jaw tightens, and any joy that was flowing through his body has now evaporated, escaping through the heavy exhale from his nostrils. His hands grip the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white, the tendons in his arms standing out starkly. The atmosphere inside the car grows heavy, thick with tension and unspoken words.

You realise instantly that you’ve crossed a line, the severity of your words sinking in as his anger radiates off him like a palpable force. The air between you crackles with electricity, the adrenaline of the heist replaced by a chilling fear of the unknown. You’re not scared of Jongseong, not really, but of the intensity of his reaction and what he might be thinking.

He hard shoulders the car to the edge of a cliff, the tires screeching as he brings the vehicle to an abrupt stop. The scenery outside is almost picturesque, the cliff overlooking a vast expanse of ocean, waves crashing against the rocks below. The golden hues of the late afternoon sun cast long shadows, but the serene beauty of the landscape does nothing to alleviate the suffocating tension within the car.

Jongseong's cold glare freezes you in place, his eyes dark and unyielding. "Repeat that last sentence," he demands, his voice low and menacing.

"I...I," you stammer, too overcome with slight fear to form a coherent response. It’s not Jongseong himself that scares you, but the raw intensity of his emotions and the unpredictability of the situation.

"Did you just swear at me?" he asks, his tone sharp enough to cut through the thick silence. His eyes bore into yours, and you can see the flicker of hurt beneath the anger.

The fear of what he’s thinking, the consequences of your words, paralyses you. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. The reality of the situation crashes over you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“I... I didn’t mean to-”

“Get out of the car. Now.” His voice is a low, dangerous growl, leaving no room for argument.

You scramble to comply, fumbling with the door handle. Your fingers tremble as you push the door open, the heavy metal creaking in protest. As you step out, the uneven ground beneath your feet adds to your growing sense of disorientation. The wind whips through your hair and the cliff's edge looms just a few feet away, adding to your sense of vulnerability.

Is he going to leave you here? The thought is a panicked whisper in your mind, the idea of being abandoned on this desolate cliffside sending a fresh wave of fear coursing through you. But he wouldn’t do that, he is too infatuated by you to abandon you.

So you’re quaking in trepidation and adrenaline for what he has planned.

Jongseong steps out of the car with a deliberate calm, the door slamming shut behind him with a resonating thud. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, the earlier anger now replaced by something cold and calculating. 

“On your knees,” he commands, his voice hard and unyielding.

You hesitate for a moment, confusion and anxiety warring within you. The words seem surreal, echoing in your mind as you try to process what’s happening. But then the steel in his eyes brooks no argument, and you realise you have no choice but to do as you’re told.

Slowly, you lower yourself to the ground, the rough gravel biting into your knees. The indignity of the position, combined with the terror of being so close to the cliff, leaves you feeling utterly exposed. You glance up at Jongseong, searching for a hint of what’s to come, but his face is a mask of icy determination.

Noticing the tremble in your lips, a soft, almost tender expression flickers across his features. He reaches down, his hand cradling one side of your face gently. “Shhh, darlin’. I’m just going to wash those dirty words out of your mouth,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively soothing.

Your heart pounds harder, anticipation and fear twisting into a knot in your stomach. You watch, wide-eyed, as he undoes his belt with deliberate slowness, the metallic clink echoing in the stillness. He pulls down the zipper, his movements controlled and precise, never breaking eye contact with you. It is only now that you know what he means by washing the dirty words out of your mouth.

Jongseong takes out his cock, thick and long, a sight you can’t quite get used to, no matter how many times you see it. Your fingers grip tightly at your skirt as you endure the rough gravel digging into your knees. Despite the discomfort, your focus is entirely on his eight-inch length, its pink tip throbbing with desire, mirroring your pulsing clit.

Seeing the light of excitement in your eyes, Jongseong smiles wickedly. What he saw back at the bank, that flicker of wanting rush and spontaneity is instilled deep within you, and what perfect way to get it out of you than making you suck his cock on the edge of a nth-drop-foot cliff.

He taps the head of his cock against your lips, his expression a blend of mock innocence and raw hunger. “You know I don’t like doing this, Y/N," he says, his tone dripping with false remorse. Jongseong doesn’t care about you swearing at him, not really; he’s just looking for an excuse to ease the horniness swimming through his blood and to bring out the real you that's hiding in the shadows.

“Unless...you want to be bad?” He tilts his head, his gaze feigning curiosity because he already knows the answer. “I saw it in your eyes, darlin’. That blood rush because you know you’re doing something bad.”

You shift slightly on your knees, licking your lips, your eyes fixated on his member. The desire to take him in your mouth is overwhelming. The fear, guilt, dread, excitement, and power mix into a heady cocktail -  it creates something inside you that you have long sought after. Your life that has been so built up in the foundation of being perfect for your father is draining and mundane, which is why you were drawn so irresistibly to him. He can give you everything you crave, even through unorthodox situations like this.

Jongseong teases you, swiping his tip along your lips. As you open your mouth in eager anticipation, he pulls away just out of reach, a smirk playing on his lips as you lift your ass from your heels, chasing it like a dog with a bone before you yield. 

He starts pumping his cock slowly, his eyes locked onto yours. “You can be as bad as you like, baby,” he leans down slightly, his voice a low, seductive growl. “As long as you're a good girl for me, okay?”

“Yes, Jjongie,” you nod quickly, desperate for your mouth to be filled. The anticipation, mixed with the danger of the cliff and the fear of being caught, makes your pussy ache and your heart race.

With a sudden, forceful motion, Jongseong grabs the back of your head, pulling you closer. "Open wide," he commands, his voice firm yet filled with desire. You comply, your mouth opening eagerly as he thrusts himself deep, filling you completely. He groans in pleasure as he begins to fuck your mouth with rough, passionate thrusts.

His hand rests on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he sets a deliberate pace. You hollow your cheeks, sucking him in, your tongue swirling around his length, paying extra attention to his tip when it hits the edge of your lips. The heat and weight of him on your tongue send shivers down your spine, and you moan around him, the sound vibrating through his dick.

“Take it all, darlin’,” he murmurs, his grip tightening as he pushes deeper, your gag reflex kicking in. Tears spring to your eyes, but the mixture of pain and pleasure only fuels your desire. You moan around him, the vibrations making him groan louder.

Jongseong’s pace quickens, his long length hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. You struggle to breathe, but the sensation of being used, of surrendering completely to his control, sends waves of heat through your body. Despite the intensity, you crave more; you can’t get enough. Every thrust, every moment of control he exerts over you, only deepens your need. You love this, even though you probably shouldn’t.

Because you have always been so compliant to him, never pushing his buttons, every time he has ever touched you has always been rough but with an overwhelming cast of softness, scared to push you too far considering your limited sexual experiences. But right now, it is pure lust and dominance taking over his body. This is your chance to show you can take it, soft or hard, as long as it’s Jongseong.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he pants, his eyes dark with lust. “So good at taking your punishment.” You nod as best as you can, his cock still buried in the back of your throat as you try your best to widen it, accommodating his girth the best you can.

His praise spurs you on, and you bob your head faster, your hand coming up to stroke the base of his cock in time with your movements. Jongseong’s breath hitches, his hands gripping your roots for support. The veins on his arms bulge with the intensity of his grip, his knuckles white.

His breathing becomes erratic, and you feel his cock twitching, a clear sign he's nearing climax. His eyes close momentarily, his brow furrowing, then lock onto yours again, filled with raw desire.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he groans, his hips thrusting in sync with your movements. “I’m so close.”

His thrusts become more urgent, more forceful. You can sense the muscles in his abdomen tensing with each movement, a sheen of sweat making his skin glisten. His jaw clenches, his breathing ragged. You are lost in the moment, your body reacting instinctively, wanting to please him, to draw out his release. The sensation of his cock filling your throat, the taste, the feel - it’s intoxicating, leaving you craving more with every second.

Suddenly, he tightens his grip on your scalp, pulling you down hard onto his cock, burying himself so deep that his bell is well past your tonsils, almost hitting your voice box. The force and intrusion makes you gag, and he holds you there, deep in your oesophagus. Your eyes water, and you feel his cock pulsing as he reaches his peak.

With a guttural moan, Jongseong shudders violently, emptying himself deep within you. The hot torrent of his seed floods your throat with a sudden intensity that makes you gag, the unexpected force sending spurts through your nose. The sensation is both startling and overwhelming, the heat and discomfort mingling in a strange thrill. Your nostrils burn slightly, each breath catching the faint, musky scent of his cum, and you feel the final thick, warm fluid trickling down your throat and seeping from your nose.

Jongseong's grip on you is unyielding, his body taut with pleasure, eyes squeezed shut in an expression of raw ecstasy. His cock pulses and twitches as he drains himself completely, the final spurts leaving him trembling. Slowly, he loosens his hold, withdrawing from your mouth with a slick, wet sound, his length coated in a mixture of saliva and cum.

You gasp for air, your lungs burning as you draw in ragged breaths. The remnants of his release cling to your lips and drip from your nose, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. The myriad sensations leave you dizzy and lightheaded, but there’s an undeniable satisfaction in the aftermath of such a powerful, primal exchange. Your chest heaves as you recover, each breath a challenge, and despite the intensity, you can’t help but feel a deep, insatiable hunger for more.

Jongseong tucks his cock away before looking down at you, the white dripping down your nose, chin and onto your chest. The sight makes him tremble, an aftershock of pure adoration for the messy girl before him. "You are so beautiful, baby," he murmurs, crouching down to wipe the seed from your face. Your lazy smile spreads across your lips, a blend of bliss and contentment washing over you. The intensity of the experience leaves you feeling floaty and disoriented, but there’s an underlying sense of satisfaction and connection that warms you from within.

"Just don't swear at me again, okay, pretty? You gotta trust me," he continues, opening your mouth with his thumb and sticking his fingers in, making you clean them up. The taste of his cum lingers as you obediently suck his fingers clean, your eyes overcast with a mixture of bliss and unfamiliarity. You nod, feeling a bit contrite.

"I'm sorry. It won’t happen again, I was just...surprised. You should have told me what we were doing." You can’t help but feel a twinge of regret. It would have been nice to have a heads-up that you were committing your first crime, even if you were just an accomplice.

Jongseong sighs, understanding your point of view. He helps you stand, his hands steadying you as your legs feel like jelly. He brushes the gravel from your knees, his fingers lingering slightly as he ogles at the indents and scrapes, oddly admiring the view. There's a gentleness in his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of moments before.

"You would never have agreed to come with me if I did tell you. I wanted you to see and feel the rush of it all," he explains, his voice filled with conviction. He leans in, kissing your lips gently, the softness of his kiss a vastly different feeling from the burning in your throat and nose. "You did, didn’t you? You understand it now."

The memory of the heist flashes vividly in your mind, the exhilarating chaos of it all. Standing side by side with Jongseong as he robbed the bank was like stepping into another world, one where every second was charged with a thrilling sense of danger and excitement. The cold metal of the gun in his hand, the authoritative bark of his commands, and the wide-eyed fear in the faces of the bank staff and customers - it was a symphony of sensations that left your heart pounding in your chest in the best possible way.

You pause, the truth sinking in. "I...I do," you admit, knowing there’s no point in denying it. The rush, the adrenaline, it’s undeniable. But the risk, the fear of losing him, it lingers in your mind. "But there are other ways to get that same rush, ones that don't risk me losing you."

For the first time, Jongseong's heart feels like it's punching his rib cage. He can’t believe the depth of your concern, the intensity of your feelings for him. "I know, but I'm not going anywhere," he promises, his voice filled with sincerity. You give him a sceptical look, worry etched into your features. "I'll be careful. You're my good luck charm, and you're never leaving my side. So, what is there to worry about?"

Jongseong's arms wrap around you, bringing you closer. His warmth envelops you, providing a soothing presence amidst the chaos of your thoughts. You cuddle into his hug, a smile pulling to the middle of your cheeks. His steady, robust heartbeat is a calming contrast to your own. The lingering taste of him, the scent of sweat and musk, it’s all becoming music to your senses. 

He can't believe he has found someone so perfect for him. Someone to ground him and see his potential, even through everything. Maybe there is a part of him that wants to tone it down a little, because the fear of losing you too is something his heart doesn't want to bear thinking about.

Although the rush and excitement of breaking the law pumps the blood through his body, even just laying his eyes upon you has the same desired effect. Perhaps you could be his new rush. Jongseong had never considered another way to get his kicks because this is all he has known for so long, the window you're opening up in his mind lets him peep into what could be, rather than what he knows.

Sirens blare softly in the distance, almost acting as a backing track to your loving waltz. But you know you can’t stay standing here for long, very few roads to turn and navigate if they caught up to you. Looking up at him, you smile, oddly calm despite the circumstances around you. “Let’s go. We can book a motel.”

“Good shout. I don’t think I can wait to fuck you.”

You look puzzled, brow furrowing as you process his words. "Do you not hear the police? I mean we need to keep low."

Jongseong laughs, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. His hand traces your waist, fingers pressing gently into your skin. "Oh, I know," he says, his eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and desire. "But I also meant what I said."

_____

The smell of chlorine fills the air, a sharp, clean scent that immediately evokes memories of summer afternoons spent poolside. Beneath the tang of chemicals lies the faintest hint of dampness, the kind that clings to cool tiles and wets the soles of your feet. The ambient humidity wraps around you like a warm blanket, the moisture hanging heavy in the air as you take careful steps forward, your senses heightened by the darkness that surrounds you.

A blindfold is secured over your eyes, its fabric soft against your skin, blocking out the world and leaving you in a realm of anticipation. Jongseong's hands are firm yet gentle on your arms, guiding you carefully, his touch reassuring as he leads you to the unknown. His fingers occasionally rub soothing circles on your arms, grounding you, while his lips brush tenderly against your shoulder, planting a kiss that sends a shiver of warmth through your body.

"Just a bit further," he murmurs, his voice a low, comforting rumble in your ear. The sound of it makes you smile, your heart swelling with affection, but the mystery of what lies ahead keeps a slight edge of nervousness tingling in your veins.

“Jjongie,” you giggle, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling in your chest. “What’s the surprise?”

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through you. “If I tell you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

You laugh, but there’s a faint tremor of unease beneath your amusement. “I don’t like your surprises...” you say, trying to keep your tone light, but there’s a flicker of real concern in your voice.

Your mind drifts back to the last time Jongseong had surprised you. What was supposed to be a simple drive had turned into something much more exhilarating - and terrifying. He’d taken you on a late-night drag race, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as he floored the gas pedal. You’d ended up in his lap, your lips wrapped around him as he tried to navigate the twisting roads. The memory of him nearly crashing into a lamppost as he swerved around a corner, the car jerking violently while you were mid-act, flashes vividly in your mind. It had been thrilling, dangerous, and unforgettable, but it had also left you with a newfound wariness of his surprises.

Jongseong suddenly stops, halting your thoughts along with your steps. He releases his grip on your arms and takes a moment, his eyes scanning over the scene before him. You can sense the slight shift in his demeanour, the way his breath catches ever so slightly, as if he’s nervous, though he’s doing his best to hide it.

“Okay, are you ready?” he asks, his voice taking on a more serious tone, as if the moment ahead holds weight.

“It depends on what for,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as the tension in your chest tightens.

“Yes or no answer, darlin’,” he says, his tone gentle but firm.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as the anticipation builds. It crawls over your skin like tiny insects, a sensation that makes you think of the creepy-crawly trials from I’m a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here. The unknown feels like it’s pressing down on you, making your heart race in your chest but in an excited, throwing-up way, not in an anxiety-inducing throwing-up way.

“Yeah...I’m ready,” you finally breathe out, your voice laced with a mix of courage and curiosity.

With that, Jongseong reaches up and slowly removes the blindfold. The world beyond the darkness gradually comes into focus as your eyes adjust to the light. You blink a few times, your vision sharpening, and then the scene before you fully reveals itself.

You find yourself standing at the edge of a beautifully lit gymnasium pool. The water is calm, its surface reflecting the soft glow of the lights that line the ceiling and walls. The pool stretches out before you, the deep blue water inviting and serene. The entire space is transformed, the usual harshness of a gymnasium replaced by an almost magical ambience. The soft glow of string lights hangs above, casting a warm, golden hue that dances across the water’s surface. Candles flicker gently along the edges, their flames steady despite the humidity, adding a touch of romance to the already enchanting atmosphere.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart swelling with emotion as you take in the sight before you. “Jjongie...” you whisper, your voice thick with a mixture of awe and emotion. A smile begins to creep across your face, slow but unstoppable, and you feel a sting in your eyes as tears threaten to spill over.

“It’s nice, right?” Jongseong asks, his voice soft, filled with an affectionate warmth as he watches your reaction.

“Nice?” you echo, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s beautiful. When did you do all of this?”

“A few hours ago, while you were getting ready,” he admits with a shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck as if the effort was no big deal, though you can tell he’s pleased with himself. It actually took him well over three hours to sort everything out, and an hour of that was simply to untangle the lights he had managed to wrap himself up in.

You look at him, the adoration you feel for him filling every corner of your being. The surprise, the thoughtfulness of it all, is overwhelming in the best possible way. It’s not just about the setting he’s created, but the care and effort he’s put into making this moment special for you.

As you step further into the softly lit gymnasium, your eyes catch sight of a blanket spread out near the edge of the pool, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights. The setup is simple yet thoughtful: a wicker basket sits in the centre, along with two plates, some cutlery, and an assortment of your favourite snacks. You can't help but smile as you notice a small bag of Percy Pig sweets peeking out from the basket, their bright, cartoonish faces bringing a touch of humour to the romantic setting.

Jongseong follows your gaze, a proud grin spreading across his face when he sees you've noticed the details. “See, I got all your favourites, even those ugly pigs,” he teases, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tries to keep a straight face.

You turn to him, feigning offence. “Excuse me? Percy Pig deserves respect.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” he laughs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Now, sit down before I eat them all myself.”

You both settle down on the blanket, the fabric soft beneath you as Jongseong reaches for the basket. He pulls out a bottle of cheap wine and a pair of plastic glasses he bumped from Tesco, it’s not really stealing, just an accidental 'forgot to scan it' - along with the basket, some plates, and the fairy lights that encompass the space. He did pay for the wine though, that much he can pour guilt-free.

“This is really nice, Jonseong. But how did you manage to rent out the pool after hours?”

He takes a sip of his wine, a nonchalant shrug accompanying his response. “I know a guy.”

You narrow your eyes at him, scepticism evident in your expression, but you don’t press further. “Why did you choose this place? You know, picnics are usually in parks, not next to chlorine-filled water.”

Jongseong chuckles, his eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “Well, duh. I know I’ve spent most of my life in prison, but I do know basic picnic etiquette.” He rolls his eyes dramatically before continuing, “I just wanted to do something different. Trying to create an original experience, you know? Besides, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly fancy restaurant material.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, appreciating his honesty. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the stillness only broken by the gentle lapping of the water and the hum of the old but functioning AC. The ambience is peaceful, the soft glow of the lights reflecting off the pool’s surface, creating a serene atmosphere that makes you feel completely at ease.

But there’s a question that has lingered in the back of your mind for some time now, one you’ve never dared to ask. You hesitate, the words sitting heavy on your tongue, unsure if now is the right moment to bring it up. Eventually, curiosity wins out, and you break the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

Jongseong looks at you, his expression softening. “Anything, darlin’. You know that.”

You’ve always respected his privacy, never prying into his past because, in your mind, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the person he is now, the man who’s made you feel more cherished than anyone else ever has. But he’s mentioned his past in passing, little snippets here and there, and now feels like as good a time as any to learn more.

“When did you first go to prison?” you ask, your voice tentative, almost unsure.

His reaction is immediate, his eyes widening for a split second before he quickly downs the rest of his wine, using the alcohol as Dutch courage. Jongseong usually isn’t nervous about discussing his past, knowing that the judgement and resentment from others can’t change the path he’s driven down. But with you, it’s different. He doesn’t want you to see him in a different light, doesn’t want his past mistakes to taint the way you look at him now. 

You see the turmoil flickering across his face, and you quickly reach out, grabbing his hand to offer comfort. “It’s okay,” you say gently, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to tell me...it was stupid of me to ask.”

He shakes his head, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself. “No, it’s not stupid. You deserve to know.” He pauses, his voice quieter when he finally speaks. “I was 16. They charged me with domestic assault.”

You feel your body tense up at his words, recoiling slightly, but before you can pull away. Though your brain doesn’t want to jump to that conclusion, it’s the first thing your mind flickers in front of your eyes. 

Jongseong squeezes your hand tightly, his eyes earnest and pleading as he sees you leap to conclusions that make him feel sick. “Oh God, no, not like that, baby,” he quickly clarifies. “I would kill myself before I ever laid a hand on my partner. I couldn’t even fathom the idea.”

Relief washes over you, your muscles relaxing as you search his eyes for the truth. “Then who?”

He looks away for a moment, his jaw clenching as he struggles to find the right words. “My dad,” he finally says, his voice rough with emotion. “He was fucking awful, and I just snapped one day after school. The neighbours called the police, and they carted me off. Next thing you know, I’m serving two months in juvie.”

You feel a surge of anger on his behalf, your heart aching at the thought of what he must have gone through. “He deserved it, though, right?” you ask, needing to hear it from him.

“Fuck yeah, he did,” Jongseong replies, his voice seething with barely contained rage. “Fucking prick was a good for nothing low life and let him know it. After that, it was just a downhill spiral. Selling, stealing, fighting... it’s hard to get out of that life once you’re in it.”

The rawness of his words hangs heavy in the air, the weight of his past pressing down on both of you. You can see the pain in his eyes, the memories of a life he’s tried so hard to leave behind. You want to say something, anything, to make it better, but words feel inadequate. Instead, you simply hold his hand tighter, letting him know that you’re here for him, that you’re not going anywhere.

As Jongseong finishes recounting his story, you listen intently, the gravity of his words settling over you. The conversation has taken a turn for the deeply personal, exposing vulnerabilities you had only glimpsed before. His past is a labyrinth of mistakes and regrets, mirroring the tangled web that ensnares people once they slip into a life of crime. It reminds you of your father’s own downward spiral, how once he got entangled in embezzling money, every effort to escape only seemed to complicate matters further. It’s a relentless cycle, each attempt to break free only making the situation worse. 

But as you gaze at Jongseong, with his defiant eyes and mischievous grin, you see a boy who, despite his reckless choices, has a core of goodness. The crimes he’s committed are not born from malice but from a life he was thrust into, a life he has never known how to escape. Maybe, just maybe, you can offer him a different path, one that leads to a better future.

“I think there’s a better life out there for you,” you say softly, your voice trembling with sincerity.

Jongseong meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that catches you off guard. He stares at you for a moment, his mind churning and eyes twinkling with realisation. “I think there is.”

A gentle smile begins to spread across your face. Despite the adrenaline-fueled adventures and the excitement of petty crimes you’ve shared with him, you’ve come to realise how much Jongseong means to you. The thrill has been exhilarating, but now it’s time to give back, to help him find the life he deserves. The life that’s not defined by theft and deceit but by something more meaningful.

“I got you something,” he says, breaking the silence with a hint of mischief in his tone.

Curiosity piques as you ask, “What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, his voice light but carrying a touch of seriousness.

You comply, and the sounds of him rummaging through the picnic basket fill your ears. The rustling of items and the faint clink of metal create a suspenseful atmosphere. There’s a brief pause, and you hear him take a slow, steady breath. The anticipation is palpable, crawling up your spine like a swarm of butterflies, each flap of their wings a reminder of the momentous occasion unfolding.

“Okay, open.”

You slowly open your eyes, adjusting to the dim glow of the fairy lights that flicker around you. Jongseong holds out a tiny white box, his expression a mix of nervousness and hope. Your heart skips a beat as you take the box from him, the weight of it feeling surprisingly significant.

“Jongseong...” you whisper, a mixture of shock and affection in your voice.

“Open it,” he urges, his eyes locked onto yours with a fervent intensity.

With trembling hands, you lift the lid of the box. Inside, nestled in a bed of soft cotton, are two simple yet elegant rings. The sight of them takes your breath away, the understated beauty of the rings striking a chord deep within you.

“What is-”

“Now, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jongseong interrupts, a playful glint in his eye. “I’m not proposing or anything. I love you, but I’m not letting you marry an unemployed loser who’s couch-hopping between friends’ flats. This is just to remind everyone that you’re mine.”

Your eyes widen, the significance of his words settling over you like a warm embrace. “Y-you love me?”

Jongseong looks at you as though your question is absurd. “Wasn’t it obvious? I’m literally obsessed with you.” He takes one of the rings and carefully slides it onto your finger. “I didn’t think I had to make a big song and dance about it when I show you how much I love you every day.”

The simple act of placing the ring on your finger speaks volumes. It’s not just a gesture; it’s a declaration of his feelings, one that surpasses words. Jongseong has never experienced love before, has no frame of reference, but if all those tacky magazines in the prison recreational room were correct, this is what love is supposed to feel like. It’s raw, sincere, and unfiltered.

It’s willing to become a better person for them.

“I love you too,” you say softly, the words flowing from your heart with a new depth. It’s the first time you’ve uttered those words to someone who wasn’t family, and the weight of the phrase carries a profound significance now. It’s not just about affection; it’s about a deep, abiding connection.

Jongseong’s laughter fills the air, a rich, throaty sound that resonates with joy. You tilt your head, puzzled by his sudden amusement. “What?”

“Well, duh!” he says, his tone a mix of mock arrogance and genuine affection. “You get googly-eyed every time you look at me. Even when I was getting carted off to prison, you were practically gushing over me - probably in more places than just your chest.” His gaze drops to your skirt, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh my God, shut up!” you exclaim, playfully shoving him. But as you do, his balance falters, and he tumbles backward into the pool with a splash. The cold water surges around him, and you burst into laughter at the sight of his surprised, spluttering face.

Before you can fully enjoy the moment, Jongseong’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the pool with him. The shock of the cold water envelops you, the fabric of your dress clinging uncomfortably to your skin.

“Jongseong!” you cry out, trying to push him away as you sputter and splash him. “This is Prada!” You gesture to your drenched dress, the expensive fabric now ruined.

“And this” he retorts with a grin, pinching the soggy fabric of his non-designer t-shirt, “is from the lost and found box.” He gives you a sheepish smile, but when he sees your unamused expression, he quickly adds, “Okay, okay, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“It’s ￡700!” you protest, though there’s a playful undertone in your voice.

“Then I’ll steal you a new one,” he quips, his tone light but earnest.

You fix him with a serious look, though your lips twitch with a suppressed smile. “If you want me to keep this ring on,” you say, holding your hand out of the water to display the glinting band, “then you need to promise me you’ll stop stealing, and fighting, and anything else that could get you locked up.” Your voice grows more serious with each word. “I can’t lose you.”

Jongseong’s expression softens as he takes your hand in his, pressing a tender kiss to the ring before placing your hand over his heart. “Scout’s honour. For you, I’ll be on the straight and narrow. I solemnly swear that I, Park Jongseong, will never commit another crime.” His tone is light-hearted, but the sincerity in his eyes assures you that this promise is different from the ones he made before.

Just as you’re about to respond, a booming voice interrupts. “Hey! What are you two doing here?”

You both turn to see a security guard marching toward you, his face a mix of irritation and confusion. Jongseong glances at you with a sheepish grin, water dripping from his hair. “Well...starting now, I’ll commit no crimes.”

“Huh-” Before you can fully comprehend the situation, Jongseong is already dragging you out of the pool, his hand gripping yours tightly as you both scramble to your feet. You catch sight of the security guard sprinting toward you, his expression growing more determined.

“I thought you said your friend helped you out?” you huff as you run alongside him.

“Yeah, my friend called Lockpick,” Jongseong replies with a grin that reaches his eyes, bending down to pick his ring up. “Now come on, let’s get out of here.”

Despite the chaos, you find yourself mirroring his bright smile. Maybe you’ll let him commit some crimes after all - just as long as you’re along for the ride.

_____

The reflection in the mirror feels like a portal to the past, a glimpse into a version of yourself you thought you’d left behind. The long, opulent gown drapes elegantly over your frame, its intricate embroidery catching the light in a way that’s both nostalgic and unfamiliar. The diamond earrings - a gift from your father on your 16th birthday - sparkle with a cold brilliance, a stark reminder of the expectations that have always weighed heavily on your shoulders. Your hair is styled in a sleek, elegant updo, every strand meticulously in place, as if you were once again the picture-perfect daughter in his carefully curated world.

It’s been months since you last had to dress like this, stepping into a role that now feels more like a distant memory than a reality. But tonight is different. Tonight is a special occasion. It’s the night of your father’s grand welcome-back party, a lavish affair meant to reintroduce him to the world of business after years behind bars. This event is more than just a celebration; it’s a calculated move to solidify his reputation as a formidable figure in the corporate world, a moneyed tyrant who, against all odds, has maintained his iron grip on power.

Despite the scandals that would have buried anyone else, your father’s influence remains unshaken. His business partners and corporate clients still stand by his side, drawn by the promise of wealth and the unspoken agreements that bind them together. Perhaps it’s the money he’s skillfully laundered for them over the years or the secrets he’s kept buried deep, that have ensured their loyalty. The room will be filled with men in tailored suits, their faces masked with polite smiles, but beneath the surface, a web of silent transactions and mutual dependencies will be at play. 

You love your father, you really do, but big soirees like this have never been your thing. Attending them always felt like a chore rather than a time of relaxation and merriment. Maybe it was because of the prestige and pressure it was being your father’s daughter, or maybe it was the constant polite smile and meaningless interactions with people you didn’t know that weighed down the atmosphere.

Either way, you had to show up for your father, just as you are now. He would be so disappointed if you missed this and you can’t bear the thought. So you will put up with the uncomfortable attire for at least a night.

The good news is, one man will be by your side the entire night, a thought that washes over you like a wave of relief. Jongseong's presence brings you an immense sense of ease, though the prospect of him meeting your father for the first time still stirs a flutter of anxiety in your chest. It has to happen eventually, and what better setting than a crowded party where distractions abound?

Jongseong isn’t a people person and he avoids interaction unless absolutely necessary. The only person he ever makes an exception for is you, which is why he agreed to accompany you tonight despite his discomfort. You know how much this evening will demand of him - being surrounded by a crowd so different from him, full of people who thrive on small talk and business banter. But he would do anything for you, simply because he loves you. And you know that no combination of words could ever fully express your gratitude for that.

As you twirl a strand of hair into place, you steal a glance at the ring on your finger, smiling at the symbolic silver. It puts some comfort into your chest even as you mentally brace yourself for whatever the night will bring. You step out of the bathroom and your eyes immediately find Jongseong. He stands in front of the free-standing mirror in your dorm room, struggling with his tie, wrapping it around and around, only to fumble with the knot.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, drawing Jongseong's attention. His head snaps up, and the frustration in his eyes melts away, replaced by a look of pure awe. His gaze softens, shimmering with admiration as he takes you in. It never seems to matter whether you're dressed in sweatpants or a £5,000 gown - Jongseong always looks at you as if you are the only person in the world.

To him, you are. The only one who truly matters, anyway.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles, his hands dropping from the black silk tie as he stands there, completely mesmerised. He takes in how the dress hugs your waist, how your hair frames your face perfectly, and he suddenly feels unworthy to even be in your presence. “You look so beautiful, darlin’. You make diamonds look dull.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you dip your head slightly, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. Slowly, you walk over to him, smiling softly. “Thank you, Jjongie. You look really handsome,” you reply, your voice earnest and full of affection. And it’s true - he looks like something out of a wet dream, the kind you've had more times than you’d ever admit. The way his fitted black trousers accentuate his frame, the crisp white shirt that contrasts so beautifully against his tanned skin, and the fresh undercut that highlights the angles of his face - all of it makes you want to forget about the party entirely and lose yourself in him.

As you reach him, you gently take the tie he was struggling with earlier and start to tie it, your fingers deftly creating a Windsor knot that could rival any royal affair. You’ve done this countless times for your father, and the thought crosses your mind of how he might be feeling as he dons a suit for the first time in five years.

Jongseong tilts his head back slightly as you loop the end of the tie through, fidgeting like a restless child. “Hold still,” you chide him with a playful roll of your eyes, amused by his toddler-like impatience.

“I fucking hate ties,” he grumbles, trying his best not to squirm as you pull the knot tight. Jongseong has never been one for formalwear; he despises suits with a passion. The only times he’s ever worn one have been for court dates and funerals, events that always seem to bring trouble in their wake. To him, the tie feels less like an accessory and more like a silk noose.

You sigh softly, nodding in understanding. “I know, baby, but please, just bear with it. Tonight is important.” Your voice is gentle, and you shoot him an apologetic glance as you finish adjusting the tie, making sure it’s perfectly in place.

Jongseong knows how much this evening means to you. He’s also noticed the subtle changes in you ever since your father regained his freedom. He’s not blind to the way you’ve become a little more reserved, a little more cautious. He wonders if it’s just the anxiety of tonight or if it’s the looming reality that your father will soon learn about your relationship with him, along with his not-so-angelic extracurricular activities. Either way, Jongseong has been extra vigilant, more protective of you than ever.

You pin the tie bar in place, stepping back to admire your handiwork with a smile. “There, not so bad, huh?”

“I feel like a circus attraction,” he mutters, resisting the urge to loosen the knot and unbutton the collar. Formalwear has never been his style, and tonight feels like he’s being paraded in front of an audience he wants nothing to do with.

You place your hands on his chest, rubbing small circles to ease the tension you can feel building beneath your palms. “I would come to see you perform every day,” you joke lightly, rising on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. His mouth is warm, his lips soft, making you wish they were attached to yours every second of the day.

A smirk tugs at the corners of Jongseong’s mouth as his hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer. He deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips, the sensation causing your carefully applied Charlotte Tilbury Pillow Talk lipstick to smudge and transfer onto him. The kiss grows more intense, erasing all thoughts of the party, the people, and even the daunting meeting with your father. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and nothing else matters.

But it can’t last forever, as much as you wish it could. In an ideal world, Jongseong would rip the overpriced dress off your body, and the two of you wouldn’t leave your dorm room for days. Yet, reality pulls you back, and with it, the obligations of the night. You reluctantly pull away, feeling the weight of the evening settling back into place.

Jongseong instinctively tries to follow your lips, but you step back, offering him a remorseful smile. “C’mon. We need to head downstairs. Sunghoon should be arriving to pick us up in a couple of minutes.”

At the mention of another man’s name, your boyfriend’s ears perk up, and his eyebrows knit together in suspicion. “Sunghoon?” He practically spits the name out, his jaw tightening visibly. There’s an edge to his voice, one you recognise all too well.

You roll your eyes playfully, familiar with Jongseong’s lack of enthusiasm when another man is in the same room as you. “Babe, he’s just the driver for my parents. They insisted he pick us up,” you explain, your tone gentle but firm, hoping to diffuse his growing irritation.

Jongseong’s gaze softens a fraction, though a trace of his protectiveness lingers. “I could drive us,” he offers, his voice low, the implication clear. He wants to be the one to look after you, not someone he doesn’t know.

Exhaling loudly, you shake your head and cross your arms. “If you drive us, you won’t be able to drink. Now imagine being in a room full of upper-class businessmen and not one ounce of Jack Daniels in your system?” 

That gives Jongseong food for thought as he stands in silence, weighing up the pros and cons of an alcohol-free night next to pretentious laughter and fake compliments. He shivers at the thought, his body visibly shaking at the idea of sobriety. 

The look on his face causes you to laugh and nod your head. “Exactly. Now come on.”

Your boyfriend loosens his tie slightly, prioritising his comfort over meeting your father’s strict expectations. The simple gesture sends a ripple of unease through you, as if the crooked tie is a symbol of everything that could go wrong tonight. You wouldn’t say you’re normally an uptight person, but moments like these set your nerves on edge, making every little detail feel like it carries immense weight.

As you pick up your handbag, you pause at the front door, bracing yourself for the conversation you know you need to have. Your heart races, fearing how Jongseong might react. “Jongseong?”

“Yeah, darlin’?” he replies, his voice softening as he senses your hesitation.

You swallow, choosing your words carefully. “Please don’t…embarrass me tonight.”

The words hang in the air, and you immediately regret how they sound. Jongseong’s expression shifts, confusion flickering across his face as he narrows his eyes. For as long as he has been yours, he’s never known you to be embarrassed by him. “When have I eve-”

“Maybe not embarrass, but…” you interrupt, realising your words came out harsher than you intended. “Just don’t be so overprotective or try to hunt down any man that looks at me or breathes next to me. I love you so much for it, but not tonight, okay? This is a big deal for my dad, and I need you two to get along.”

You see the surprise in his eyes as he processes your request. Despite your concerns, you can’t help but adore his possessive nature - the way he scowls and asserts his claim over you in front of anyone he sees as a threat. The way he reacted to Sunghoon’s name even sent a thrill through you, though you knew tonight wasn’t the time for that. You need him to dial it back, and surprisingly, he doesn’t push back.

Instead, Jongseong simply takes the Prada bag from your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours. There’s a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a sign that he understands your embarrassment isn’t about him but about the high expectations your father holds.

“We’ll get along just fine, darlin’. We already have so much in common. We can swap prison stories,” he jokes, but the humour is lost on you. Your gaze hardens, stern enough that it could turn anyone to stone, and he immediately raises the hand holding your bag in mock defence.

“Okay, okay. I’ll behave,” he promises, his tone shifting to a more sincere one. “But if anyone speaks out of line about you, I’m knocking them into next Thursday.”

You sigh, the tension easing slightly as you nod in agreement. “Thank you,” you murmur, leaning in to peck his cheek in gratitude. The small gesture of affection helps to soothe the lingering anxiety, and as you walk him out the door, your heart feels a little lighter.

_____

As expected, when you arrive, the scene before you looks like something straight out of Jay Gatsby’s wildest fantasies. The sprawling 13-bedroom mansion, once your childhood home, has been transformed into a shimmering spectacle of wealth. Guests are crowded around the grand entrance, their laughter and chatter spilling out onto the manicured lawn. The estate is alive with the hum of a party that promises decadence at every turn, a stark reminder of the world your father has clawed his way back into.

Despite the legal battles and the assets stripped from him, your father had been too cunning for the law. He’d anticipated the fallout, shielding the most valuable pieces of his empire under your mother’s name. The house, the cars, even some of the art that adorns the walls - they all remained untouched, legally out of reach.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the evening settle over you as you step out of the car. Jongseong is by your side in an instant, his presence a steady anchor amidst the swirl of luxury and status. His hand intertwines with yours, a silent promise that he’s with you every step of the way. Although he might be uncomfortable, his main priority is ensuring your happiness throughout the night.

As you both approach the entrance, the grandeur of the night unfolds around you. The glittering chandeliers cast a warm glow over the marbled floors, and the air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and cigars. The crowd parts slightly as you and Jongseong make your way inside, their eyes flicking toward you, assessing, judging, some with curiosity, others with veiled envy. 

Jongseong’s grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly, a small but reassuring gesture. You glance up at him, catching the faintest smirk on his lips as he surveys the scene. He’s out of his element here, but you can tell he’s already sizing up the room, assessing who’s who and what role they might play tonight. There’s an edge to him that you can’t help but feel guilty for, placing him in an environment that you know won’t accept him.

Even though his tattoos are covered and his criminal status is concealed behind the expensive suit you bought him, these people sniff out those who aren’t like them, making it known by the judgement on their faces.

Gazing around, Jongseong quickly understands why you’ve been so anxious about tonight. The reality of this world is even worse than anything he could have imagined. The opulence, the haughty faces, the way the guests carry themselves with an air of superiority - it’s suffocating. How you were raised among these people and managed to emerge with your spirit intact is beyond him, but it makes one thing abundantly clear.

“Now I know why you came begging me for a change of pace,” he whispers in your ear, his eyes never leaving the snobbish guests who seem to be measuring each other up as much as they are the room itself.

You twist your head to look at him, a curious expression on your face. “I did not beg,” you correct him, recalling your first encounter differently than he does, the memory bringing a smile to your lips.

Jongseong shrugs, a playful grin spreading across his face as he swings your bag lightly by his side. “Well, you certainly were begging the day I got out. What was it you said to me in the car?” he teases, eyes sparkling with mischief as your cheeks start to heat up at the memory. “That’s it! It was ‘Please, Jongseong, I can’t take it-’”

Your hand shoots up to cover his mouth, your eyes widening in playful horror, though a laugh escapes your lips before you can stifle it, making your attempt at scolding him lose some of its edge. “Stop it! This is what I meant by behaving,” you warn, though your tone is more amused than stern.

Jongseong chuckles against your palm, his eyes softening as he leans in to kiss it gently before lowering it from his lips. “Actually, you said not to get possessive,” he counters, still grinning. “You should have been more specific.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress your own smile as you meet his flirty and playful gaze. He has a way of easing your nerves even in the most tense situation. 

As you share a quiet laugh with Jongseong, the warmth of the moment is interrupted by the sudden approach of a familiar figure from your past. A woman with perfectly styled blonde hair and a designer dress that practically screams old money makes her way toward you, her smile wide and fake, the kind that never quite reaches the eyes. You recognize her immediately - Emily, a girl you once called a friend before your father’s fall from grace. Her presence alone is enough to make your stomach turn, knowing the kind of person she truly is.

“Y/N! Oh my God, it’s been forever!” Emily exclaims, her voice dripping with an over-the-top enthusiasm that you know is completely fabricated. She flings her arms around you in a hug that’s more for show than anything else, the scent of her expensive perfume cloying as it invades your senses.

You force a smile, stepping back slightly as you extricate yourself from her embrace. “Emily, it’s...good to see you,” you reply, keeping your tone polite but guarded. The last thing you want is to give her any ammunition, especially not tonight. 

It’s not just Jongseong that has to behave.

“I was just telling everyone how much I missed you,” she gushes, her tone oozing false sincerity as she waves her hand around, drawing attention to her perfect manicure. “I mean, it’s just been so sad without you around. How have you been? And your father - what a comeback, right?”

The mention of your father sends a pang of irritation through you, but you maintain your composure, nodding politely. “Yes, it’s been a challenging time, but he is getting through it.”

Emily doesn’t miss a beat, already shifting her focus as her eyes flicker over to Jongseong. Her smile widens, eyes sparkling with interest as she takes in his tall, imposing figure. “And who is this?” she asks, her tone dropping into something far more flirtatious. Without waiting for an introduction, she steps closer to him, batting her eyelashes in a way that’s almost comical. “You must be new around here. I’m Emily,” she purrs, her hand reaching out to lightly touch his arm.

Jongseong’s expression shifts instantly, his easygoing demeanor turning icy cold. He doesn’t flinch, but the look in his eyes makes it clear that her touch is entirely unwelcome. He slowly peels her hand off his arm, his disgust barely concealed. “Jongseong,” he says curtly, his voice devoid of any warmth or interest.

Emily’s confidence wavers, but she recovers quickly, trying to brush off his reaction as if it were nothing. “Well, Jongseong, if you ever need someone to show you around, I’d be happy to-”

“Not interested,” Jongseong cuts her off, his tone sharp enough to slice through her facade. He shifts slightly, positioning himself closer to you, making it clear that he’s not here to entertain her or anyone else.

Emily's smile falters at Jongseong’s blunt dismissal, but she’s not one to back down so easily. She adjusts her posture, regaining some of her poise as she leans in closer, clearly determined to salvage the situation. “Oh, of course,” she says with a laugh that sounds more forced than genuine. “But you know, sometimes it helps to have a fresh perspective. Someone who knows how these events work, who can help you navigate the crowd.” She casts a glance at you, her eyes flickering with something that resembles pity before she looks back at Jongseong, her flirtatious tone back in full force. “I mean, you wouldn’t want to get lost in all this chaos, right?”

Jongseong doesn’t even dignify her with a glance this time, his patience visibly wearing thin. He can feel the subtle shift in your posture, the way your hand tightens around his, signalling your growing irritation. The last thing he wants is for this interaction to ruin your night - or worse, to make you feel anything less than the incredible person you are.

He sighs softly, more to himself than anyone else, before turning his full attention to Emily, his expression hardening. “Listen,” he begins, his voice low and steely, “I don’t need anyone to navigate this place, least of all someone who doesn’t know when to back off.” He steps even closer to you, his arm slipping around your waist possessively, pulling you snugly against his side. “I’m here with my girl. She’s all the perspective I need, and she’s the only one I’m interested in listening to.”

Emily’s bravado crumbles further, her forced smile now barely holding together as she realises she’s completely outmatched. The icy edge in Jongseong’s voice leaves no room for misunderstanding - her presence is neither wanted nor tolerated. She tries to laugh it off again, but it comes out as more of a strained chuckle. “Well, I didn’t mean to intrude,” she mutters, clearly flustered, as she takes a small step back.

Jongseong doesn’t let up, his gaze still fixed on her, making sure she fully understands. “You did,” he replies bluntly, “but you can fix that by walking away.”

You watch the exchange, feeling a mix of relief and admiration for the way Jongseong handled it. He didn’t just brush Emily off - he shut her down in a way that left no room for further attempts. You can’t help the smug smile that is etching onto your face.

Emily finally seems to get the message. With one last awkward smile, she turns on her heel and hurries off into the crowd, her confidence shattered. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, the tension in your body slowly easing as she disappears from sight.

Jongseong looks down at you, his expression softening instantly as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” he asks gently, his tone a stark contrast to the icy one he’d used just moments ago.

“Yeah. Let’s go get a drink.”

“Music to my fucking ears,” he laughs, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head before letting you lead the way to the kitchen. The hum of the party surrounds you, but all you can focus on is the comfort of his presence.

As you walk, Jongseong asks, “Why did she even come up to you? Didn’t you say they all turned on you once they found out what your dad had done?”

You nod, casting a glance at the sea of faces that once belonged to people you called friends. Now, they wave at you as if the last five years of cold shoulders and whispered gossip had never happened. “Yeah, but back then, they didn’t know my dad had managed to keep a massive chunk of his money. While he might not be a billionaire anymore, he’s still a millionaire - and that matters more to them than a prison sentence.”

Jongseong raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of incredulity and disgust. “So they would’ve stuck around if you’d just shown them your bank account?”

“Pretty much,” you sigh. “But Dad warned me not to flaunt the money he’d managed to save, just in case HMRC came snooping again. So when they thought our family lost everything, they ditched me without a second thought.”

You pause as the reality of it all sinks in, the bitterness of that betrayal still fresh. The socialite life was all you had known - luxury, parties, and a circle of 'friends' who thrived on status. But when your family needed support the most, they scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving you to navigate the fallout alone.

“Darlin’,” he begins, his voice low and soothing as his thumb traces slow circles over your waist, pulling you closer to his side. “You’re worth more than any thick-wallet prick in here,” he assures you, his tone filled with a sincerity that makes your heart swell. And you know he means it. If you were anything like the sea of people flooding your childhood home, he would never have given you a second glance.

But Jongseong saw the real you. From the moment his eyes locked onto yours in that cold, sterile visiting room, he knew there was something deeper inside of you - a spark, a fire that refused to be dimmed by circumstance. It’s why he held you so close then, why he slipped that ring onto your finger with unwavering certainty, and why he’s fallen so madly in love with you. To him, you are the closest thing to perfection, a rare and beautiful soul in a world obsessed with superficiality.

Despite the designer clothes that drape your frame, Jongseong sees beyond the surface. He sees your heart - pure, honest, and untainted by the judgmental ways of those around you. He knows you crave something more, a life that pulses with thrill and adrenaline, and he’s vowed to give you just that until his last breath.

Reaching the bar tucked away in the back of the kitchen, Jongseong picks up two champagne glasses and hands you one. He watches the bubbles rise rapidly, a sign of the high quality, and it sparks a question in his mind.

“Can I ask something?” he begins, his tone careful.

“Sure,” you reply, your gaze still lingering on the crowd outside.

“I know your dad still has money, but how is he allowed to keep making it if he stole millions? Surely that puts him on some sort of corporate blacklist?”

Before you can respond, a deep, familiar voice cuts through the air, stopping you cold. “Well, actually, son, no one can stop you from making money other than yourself.”

Your eyes widen as you whirl around to face him. Your father stands before you, looking nothing like the man you last saw behind bars. He’s put together, polished, every bit the powerful businessman he once was. His suit is immaculate, tailored to perfection, and his cufflinks gleam, catching the light and silently broadcasting his wealth.

The transformation is startling. Gone is the weary, defeated figure you remember. In his place stands a man who looks like he’s never missed a day in the office, as though the years of scandal and incarceration were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His presence is commanding, and it’s clear that the fall from grace hasn’t stripped him of his confidence - if anything, it’s sharpened it.

Jongseong’s grip on your waist tightens subtly, a silent show of support as your father’s eyes sweep over the two of you. The tension in the room thickens, and you feel yourself shrinking under the weight of his gaze. The confidence you’ve worked so hard to build falters, replaced by a shyness and timidity that Jongseong hasn’t seen in you for a long time. It’s as if you’ve reverted to the woman you were when he first met you - uncertain, reserved, and desperate for approval.

This isn’t the version of you that Jongseong knows and loves. You’ve grown so much since then - becoming strong, confident, and unafraid to live life on your own terms. You’ve finally broken free from the need to be a good girl for your father, embracing the freedom that comes with living for yourself. But that was easier when your dad wasn’t standing right in front of you, his mere presence pulling you back into the shadows of your past.

Jongseong feels a pang of frustration as he watches you retreat into yourself. Everything he’s done - every word, every action - has been for your sake, to help you see your full potential. Even the blowjob he made you give as punishment on the cliff a few months ago was meant to ignite the spark inside you, no matter how harsh or cruel it might have seemed at the time. Because when you love someone, you want to see them thrive, to become the best version of themselves.

But as he watches your father’s influence pull you back, he realises that this whole life - the expectations, the wealth, the need for validation - holds you back from that. Your father is the anchor chaining you to a life you’ve outgrown, and Jongseong knows that as long as he’s around, you’ll never truly be free to be the person you’re meant to be. And that’s what hurts him the most - seeing the woman he loves, who’s fought so hard to break free, being dragged back into the very world she’s been subconsciously trying to escape.

“Who’s your friend?” your father asks, his tone dismissive as he deliberately reduces Jongseong’s role in your life to that of a mere acquaintance. He doesn’t even spare him a glance, focusing instead on you with a look that makes your heart race with anxiety.

“Dad, this is Park Jongseong. He’s my boyfriend, actually,” you reply, but your voice grows quieter with each word, betraying the confidence that usually defines you.

It feels like being hit with a brick as you watch your father’s mean stare shift to Jongseong, sizing him up, looking for flaws, for any reason to disapprove. The tension is suffocating, and you can’t help but feel the weight of your dad’s judgement pressing down on you.

Your father’s eyes narrow slightly, and after a moment of uncomfortable silence, he asks, “How did you two meet?”

You hesitate, suddenly realising that the truth might not be the best option. You should have thought of something more palatable, maybe something like Tinder or Hinge - anything but the truth. Your mind scrambles for a safer answer, but before you can stutter out a response, Jongseong steps in, his hand tightening on your hip as he smiles confidently.

“Prison, actually,” he says, his voice smooth and unbothered.

Your father’s expression barely changes, but the atmosphere in the room grows even heavier. “Oh? And what were you in for?” he asks, his tone as sharp as ever.

Jongseong meets your father’s gaze evenly, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Now, sir, you know that’s the number one rule of prison - don’t ask a man his crime.”

Your father’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, you know mine and you seem to want to dig your nose further into my business. It’s only fair I know yours, considering you’re chasing my daughter.”

Jongseong almost laughs at the word ‘chasing’ as if he hadn’t had you wrapped around his finger from the moment your eyes first met. “Let’s just say my conviction only landed me a few months and not five years.”

You nudge Jongseong’s side sharply, panic flaring in your chest. This isn’t what you wanted. You wanted them to get along, for your father to see the man you love the way you do. But instead, it feels like they’re circling each other, sizing each other up like adversaries in a game where you’re the prize. The tension between them is thick, and you can feel the clash of their personalities reverberating through the air.

Even with the sharpness of Jongseong’s words, your father doesn’t flinch. Instead, he recovers with the kind of ruthless calm that only years of power and manipulation can teach. He steps closer, eyes narrowing as they lock onto Jongseong with cold precision.

“Is that so?” your father begins, voice low and dripping with disdain. “I’ve always believed a man’s past speaks volumes about his future. What exactly does yours say?”

Jongseong doesn’t back down, his grip on your waist firm, almost possessive. “It says I learn, I adapt, and I move forward.”

Your father’s eyes harden, his lip curling into a sneer. “Adapting is for the weak. Real men don’t make mistakes in the first place.”

Jongseong’s smile is icy, his eyes flashing with barely restrained anger. “Is that what you told yourself when you ended up behind bars? Or is that just the lie you’ve convinced everyone else to believe?”

The words hit like a punch, and for a split second, something dark and dangerous flickers in your father’s eyes. But he quickly masks it with a cruel smirk. “I’d watch who you’re speaking to, kid.”

“Oh, I am,” Jongseong replies, his voice steady but laced with venom. He leans in slightly, his gaze unwavering as he adds, “I’m just not a fan of the view, if I’m being honest.”

Your father’s wicked grin tightens, the facade of civility cracking just enough to reveal the simmering rage beneath. He steps back, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Jongseong’s defiance. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? But cleverness won’t get you far in my world. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

Jongseong doesn’t flinch, his expression hard as steel. “I’m not in your world. And I don’t want to be.”

For a moment, the tension between them is palpable, a silent battle of wills that electrifies the air around you. Your father’s gaze flicks to you, his eyes cold and calculating, as if weighing his next move. Then, just as quickly, he turns on his heel, dismissing you both with a scoff.

The confrontation leaves you seething, a turbulent mix of anger and frustration churning inside you. You turn to Jongseong, your eyes alight with fury, the fire of your indignation barely restrained. “I told you this was important to me! Why would you speak to him like that?” Your voice is sharp, quivering with raw, unfiltered emotion that has been simmering beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

Jongseong meets your gaze with a hardened expression, frustration and determination reflected in his eyes. “Because, unlike you, Y/N, I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not in front of your dad.”

The accusation hits you like a slap, your eyes widening in disbelief. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you demand, your heart hammering against your ribs, the blood pounding in your ears.

Jongseong steps closer, his voice dropping to a lower, more deliberate tone, yet the weight of his words lands heavily. “Look at yourself. The moment you heard his voice, you shrank. You’re biting your lip like you did when we first met - nervous, unsure. I’m not exactly close with my own family, but I’d say you shouldn’t regress to a scared little girl just because your dad is around.”

His words strike a nerve, a pang of guilt mingling with your anger. The urge to defend yourself rises within you, but the sting of his observations cuts too deep, slicing through your defences. The bitter truth of it, undeniable as it is, leaves you reeling. The moment your father entered the room, all the strength and confidence you’ve painstakingly built crumbled, leaving you feeling vulnerable, like the uncertain girl you once were.

You open your mouth to retort, but no words come. Instead, a flood of frustration and hurt surges through you, overwhelming your capacity to respond. Your hand shakes as you grab your drink, the glass cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the burning turmoil inside. Without a second thought, you down it in one long, desperate gulp, the sharp burn of alcohol barely registering as you push past Jongseong.

Your footsteps are heavy and determined, as you weave through the crowd, making your way out of the extravagant party and up the stairs to find some solace. You hear Jongseong call after you, but you don’t turn back. His brutally honest words, coupled with your father’s oppressive presence, have left you feeling raw and exposed, your every nerve frayed. 

You push open the door to your old bedroom, the wood groaning in protest as you force your way inside. The room is a ghost of your past, a time capsule of your childhood preserved in pale pink walls and delicate lace curtains. The bed, still dressed in floral sheets that once seemed so perfect, now feels foreign -  too innocent. The room should have felt comforting, like a sanctuary. Instead, it feels like a cage, trapping you in a version of yourself you no longer recognise.

Jongseong is right behind you, his presence filling the doorway as he refuses to let you retreat into silence. “Don’t walk away from me, Y/N,” he says, his voice low but firm, tinged with a desperation you rarely hear from him. “This isn’t how we do things.” He will always make sure that any argument that arises between you is figured out then and there, knowing how unresolved issues lead to cracks in any relationship, and he refuses to let your father be the hole in your boat.

You whirl around to face him, anger and hurt warring within you. “Well, sorry if being called a scared little girl by my boyfriend makes me not want to speak to him,” you snap, the words dripping with sarcasm and bitterness. The accusation still stings, a wound that refuses to heal.

Jongseong steps further into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His expression is stern, but there’s a flicker of pain in his eyes, a crack in his resolve that you can’t ignore. “Then fight me on it,” he challenges, his voice rising with frustration. “But you can’t, can you? Because you know it’s true.”

You shake your head, the denial is quick and sharp. “It’s not, Jongseong. You just wouldn’t get it.”

His laugh is bitter, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. “Why? Because I’m not upper class and drinking my weight in champagne that costs more than your college tuition?” His words are laced with an edge, a defensive wall thrown up to protect himself from the hurt he feels.

You recoil, the accusation striking a chord you hadn’t expected. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then what do you mean?” he presses, his gaze unwavering. “You love me for who I am, right? Because class doesn’t matter to you, and you see me for who I am?”

“Exactly,” you reply, the word strong and meaningful. It’s the truth - you do see him, all of him, you saw him as more than his prison uniform, you saw him as more than the scum society makes him out to be, you see him as your equal, not someone below you.

Jongseong takes a step closer, his voice softening as he reaches out to you. “That’s exactly my point. I see you for everything you are, past the good girl and quiet mouse, because you’re more than that. You’re confident, powerful, your mind is so fucking strong, baby. So why on earth are you turning into someone who’s scared to even breathe too loud as soon as he steps in front of you?”

His words pierce through your defences, and you feel a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. “Because, Jongseong, he would be so fucking disappointed in me,” you confess, the admission tumbling out before you can stop it. The weight of your father’s expectations, of the life he’s tried to mould you into, hangs heavy over you. “He told me my entire life to stay out of trouble, to be a good girl, keep my nose clean, and just get through life. If he finds out I-”

You falter, the words catching in your throat. You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, to admit the truth that’s been festering inside you for so long.

Jongseong doesn’t let you hide from it. “You what? Actually found someone who makes you happy and lets you breathe?” His voice is intense, but there’s an underlying gentleness to it, a plea for you to see what he sees. “Y/N, he’s trapping you, and you can’t even fucking see it. That first day you came to see me in prison, you told me you wanted to do something for you, something reckless. You want out of this life, Y/N, and he’s gonna drag you by the feet back into it. He might have gotten out of prison but he’s trapping you in one.”

His words cut through the fog of fear and doubt that’s been clouding your mind, the truth of them undeniable. The life your father envisioned for you - a life of safety, of predictability - has always felt like a gilded cage, something that kept you comfortable, but never truly alive. The past few months with Jongseong have been a whirlwind, a taste of something real, something that makes you feel like you’re actually living instead of just existing. And yet, here you are, retreating back into old patterns.

Jongseong takes another step closer, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. “I’m sorry but I’m not going to watch the love of my life lose herself, all to please a hypocritical prick.”

The tears that have been threatening to fall finally spill over, and you close your eyes, letting the weight of his words sink in. He’s right. You hate the mundane, prissy life you’ve been living, the one that your father insists is the only right path for you. The past few months with Jongseong have been the most precious, the most real, moments of your life. But even as you were getting ready for tonight, you could feel yourself slipping back into those old, timid ways, the ones your father would approve of.

You open your eyes, meeting Jongseong’s gaze, and for the first time, you allow yourself to truly acknowledge the truth. The life your father wants for you isn’t the one you want for yourself. And as terrifying as that realisation is, it’s also liberating.

Your voice trembles as you finally speak, the weight of everything crashing down on you. "I’m sorry, Jongseong," you murmur, your words carrying a multitude of apologies: sorry for lashing out, sorry for dragging him to this party, sorry for trying to hide who he is from everyone downstairs who didn’t even deserve to know him, sorry for all of it.

But before you can continue, Jongseong cuts you off, his voice firm but tender. “Don’t you dare fucking apologise, darlin’.” He pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly that it feels like he’s trying to shield you from the world itself. His embrace is warm, strong, grounding - everything you need right now. “I just want you to be happy. It might come off as mean but if I have to thump it into your head by showing some tough love I will.”

His words are more than just a declaration; they’re a vow. A promise that he will protect your happiness at all costs, even if it means standing against your father or anyone else who threatens it. You can feel the fierce determination in the way he holds you, as if he’s ready to take on the entire world if that’s what it takes to keep you safe, to keep you smiling.

You look up at him, your eyes searching his, and what you see there makes your heart swell. He’s not just saying these things - he means them, every single word. “I am happy,” you whisper, your voice soft but full of conviction. The truth of it warms you from the inside out because you know that your happiness isn’t tied to the gilded expectations of your father or the superficial approval of those downstairs. It’s here, in Jongseong’s arms, in the life you’re building together.

His eyes soften at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he leans down. The moment hangs in the air, thick with unspoken emotion, and then his lips meet yours in a kiss that is tender, yet filled with all the passion and love that’s been bubbling beneath the surface. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you, anchored in this shared moment of understanding and connection.

The kiss deepens, a slow, deliberate melding of lips that speaks of everything words cannot. His hand finds the clasp that is holding your hair neatly and unhooks it from your strands, his fingers threading through your hair as he draws you even closer, erasing the space between you. There’s a fervent intensity in the way he kisses you, as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of his love, his frustration, his devotion into this single moment. You respond in kind, your hands sliding up his chest to clutch at his shirt, needing to feel the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips.

Your heart races, matching the rhythm of his as you lose yourself in the kiss, in him. The heat between you rises, a slow burn that spreads through your body, making you dizzy with the intensity of it. Every brush of his lips against yours, every breath you share, feels electric, sending shivers down your spine.

When you finally break apart, it’s only because you both need air, but even then, he doesn’t pull away. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he exhales shakily. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze, and what you see there makes your breath hitch - a raw, unguarded love that leaves you feeling vulnerable yet more cherished than ever.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion, as if the kiss has stripped away all his defences. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N.”

You smile widely, joy and harmony finally flowing through your body for the first time tonight. The tension that had gripped you earlier is melting away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through your chest and settles deep in your bones. In this moment, with Jongseong’s love laid bare before you, everything else seems to fade into insignificance. It’s just the two of you now, tangled in this shared vulnerability, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly free.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking your head slightly as you take in the man standing before you - the man who has seen you at your weakest, yet loves you with a fierceness that makes your heart swell. Considering how you started as a good girl, falling into the dangerous allure of a criminal, you can’t deny how far you’ve come. The path you’ve chosen has been anything but easy, but standing here now, it feels like it’s all been worth it.

Without another word, you lean in and capture his lips in another kiss, this one more deliberate, more purposeful. It’s as if you’re reaffirming the connection you share, grounding yourself in the reality of his presence. Your hands slide up to cradle his face, your thumbs gently brushing over his cheekbones as you pour every ounce of your love and desire into the kiss.

Jongseong responds immediately, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, as if he’s afraid to let go. The kiss deepens, the heat between you growing as your bodies press together, the boundaries between you blurring until all you can feel is him - his warmth, his strength, his unwavering love.

As the kiss intensifies, you pull back just enough to catch your breath, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “Does doing anything for me include having sex with me on my childhood bed?”

The playful challenge in your voice brings a mischievous glint to his eyes. Jongseong smirks, his fingers tenderly wiping away the semi-dried tears on your cheeks, as if washing away the remnants of your earlier sadness. His touch is so gentle, so reverent, that it makes your heart ache with affection.

“Well,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone as he smirks down at you, “I did say anything.” There’s a teasing edge to his words, but you can see the heat in his eyes, the desire that matches your own.

He steps back slightly, his hands moving to the knot of his tie. With a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to loosen it, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight of him, his dark hair slightly tousled from your earlier embrace, the way his fingers work the tie free with a practised ease, sends a thrill through you. It’s as if the act of loosening the tie is symbolic, a shedding of the constraints that have held you both back tonight.

As the tie finally slips free, Jongseong lets it fall to the floor, his smirk widening into a full, knowing smile. His gaze is filled with undeniable heat as he reaches for you again, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper against your ear.

“More than sure,” you breathe, your hands sliding up his chest and around his neck as you pull him toward the bed. The thought of being with him here, in this room filled with memories of your past, feels like a reclamation of everything you’ve fought to become.

Jongseong follows your lead, his hands never leaving your body as you guide him toward the bed. When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, you sink down onto it, pulling him with you. The look in his eyes, a mix of affection, desire, and something deeper, something primal, makes your pulse quicken.

He hovers over you for a moment, his hands braced on either side of your head as he looks down at you. The air between you is charged, electric, as if every breath, every touch is heightened by the intimacy of the moment. “You’re so beautiful,’” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, and then his lips are on yours again, claiming you with a fierce, possessive hunger.

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, and you begin to work them free, your movements impatient, driven by the need to feel his skin against yours. He lets out a low growl of approval as you push the fabric aside, your hands sliding over the smooth planes of his chest, tracing the contours of his body and tattoos as if memorising every line, every dip.

Jongseong’s breath hitches when your hands dip lower, and he meets your gaze with a look that is equal parts love and raw, unfiltered desire. “You really want this, darlin’?” he asks, his voice rough as his fingers brush against your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Because you might not be walking straight down those fancy stairs of yours after this.”

You nod, your eyes locked onto his as you answer, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I want you. I need you.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. With a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine, Jongseong leans down to capture your lips in another searing kiss. His hands begin to work on the fastenings of your dress with a sense of urgency, his touch both gentle and insistent. He slowly unzips the back of the dress, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pushes the fabric down.

As the dress falls, it reveals your bare chest, and the sudden chill of the air causes your nipples to harden instantly. Jongseong’s eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight, his breath coming faster as he revels in the moment. His hands, now free of the dress, move to gently cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, making you gasp softly.

Jongseong’s hands continue to explore your body, his touch electrifying as it moves from your breasts down to your waist. He pauses for a moment, eyes locked with yours, his breath heavy with desire. With a deliberate slowness that makes your pulse race, he hikes up the skirt of your dress, the fabric bunching around your hips as his hands trace the length of your thighs. The anticipation is almost unbearable, your skin tingling everywhere he touches.

As his fingers brush against the lace of your underwear, a soft gasp escapes your lips, the heat between your bodies intensifying. Jongseong’s eyes flicker with a primal hunger, but there’s still a tenderness in the way he touches you, a silent promise that he’s going to take care of you, to give you exactly what you need.

In response, your hands move with equal urgency, fingers trembling slightly as you reach for the button on his trousers. You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten under your touch, the barely restrained power that lies just beneath the surface. The button comes undone with a quiet pop, and you begin to slide the zipper down, the sound barely audible over the heavy breathing that fills the room.

Jongseong lets out a low groan as you push his slacks down his hips, your hands brushing against his hardness through the thin fabric of his boxers. The sensation sends a jolt of desire through you, making you more impatient to feel him against you, inside you. You could start a new religion for his cock alone.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a newfound urgency. As his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, he teases you, drawing out the moment until you’re practically trembling with need. His touch is both gentle and demanding, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You arch into him, your hips pressing closer as he slowly slides your panties down, his hands skimming over your skin in a way that leaves you breathless. Jongseong’s mouth leaves yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin.

“I want them to hear you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, a promise of what's to come.

“Jongseong-” your voice falters, cut off by the way his fingers dip between your thighs, tracing a slow, agonising path along your slick heat. The sound of your own gasp fills the room, and you can feel the tension winding tighter within you, ready to snap at any moment.

He smirks against your skin, a dark satisfaction in the way your body responds to his every touch, every word. "I need to hear you beg for it," he whispers, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he pushes his fingers deeper, coaxing more desperate sounds from your lips.

Your hands find his hair, tugging him closer as you grind against his hand, needing more, needing everything. "Please, Jongseong...I need you," you manage to gasp out, the words barely coherent as pleasure overtakes your senses.

He pauses, his breath hot against your ear as he lets out a low chuckle. "I know you can do better than that, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice laced with a teasing challenge. His fingers press deeper, curling just right, as he waits for you to give him exactly what he wants.

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You moan, your body instinctively arching towards him, craving more of his touch. Your fingers dig into his scalp as you writhe against his hand, the building pressure almost unbearable.

"Please," you gasp, your voice trembling with need, "I need you so badly, Jongseong. I'll do anything...just, please."

His smirk widens, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he feels the intensity of your plea. "That's more like it," he growls, his voice deep and full of raw desire. He continues to work his fingers in and out of you, his rhythm slow and deliberate, keeping you on the edge.

"You’re doing so well," he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear as his lips brush against your skin. "But I want to hear you scream my name, baby. Let me hear how much you want me."

Your chest heaves with each breath, and the pressure inside you becomes almost too much to handle. You nod frantically, your voice a desperate plea as you finally give in, letting out a loud, passionate cry that fills the room. Jongseong’s eyes light up with approval, his fingers and lips moving with even more intensity, pushing you towards the edge with an insistent rhythm.

With a low growl of approval, Jongseong finally sheds the last of his clothes, his eyes locking onto yours with a hungry intensity. He positions himself at your entrance, and the first thrust is a slow, deliberate invasion that fills you completely. A moan escapes your lips, resonating through the room and mingling with the soft rustle of the sheets beneath you.

He holds himself still for a moment, savouring the way you clench around him, feeling every shiver that ripples through your body. His eyes roam over your flushed skin, admiring the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath. “You feel incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “So tight around me.”

Gradually, he begins to move, each thrust steady and deep, pushing you further into the realms of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you to match his rhythm. “That’s it,” Jongseong growls. “Feel every inch of me, darlin’. It belongs to you anyway.”

His words ignite a new fire within you, and your body responds with a frenzied energy. You feel every ridge, every curve of him, each thrust driving you wild with desire. “Jongseong,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need, “more…”

His pace quickens, becoming urgent and insistent, the pleasure building to a nearly unbearable crescendo. The room is filled with the heady mix of your moans and the rhythmic sound of flesh meeting flesh, each noise echoing off the walls and creating a chorus of raw, primal passion.

With a sudden shift, Jongseong pulls back slightly, his hands guiding you to a new position. He flips you onto your side, his movements smooth and fast, a mixture of desire and intent in his eyes. You roll over and get a surge of anticipation as Jongseong positions himself behind you, allowing him to enter and hit you deeper than before, giving you that ‘more’ you so desperately craved.

Jongseong’s thrusts are now angled upward, hitting a spot that makes you gasp with each push. The sensation is overwhelming, a blend of deep, rhythmic pressure and the intimacy of your shared movements.

“Is this what you needed?” Jongseong asks breathlessly, his voice filled with a rough, almost primal edge as he adjusts his rhythm to match the new position. “Tell me how it feels.”

Your answer comes out as a moan, your words mingling with the sounds of your combined pleasure. “Yes, Jongseong,” you manage to gasp, “It’s so deep, so perfect.”

As he continues to thrust into you, Jongseong’s lips find your neck, his kisses soft and heated against your skin. He trails his mouth up and down your neck, each touch sending shivers down your spine. His breath is warm and tantalising, his kisses growing more insistent as he marks you with his mouth.

You can feel his tongue flicking against your skin, each kiss more urgent than the last. His teeth graze gently, then with a bit more pressure, leaving a trail of kisses and marks that grow darker with each pass. “You’re mine,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice a deep, possessive growl. “I want everyone to know.”

The sensation of his lips and teeth against your neck only heightens the pleasure you're already experiencing. Each mark is a vivid reminder of the passion that drives you both, a tangible sign of the intensity and connection you share. “Jongseong,” you gasp, feeling the combination of his thrusts and the trail of kisses that map your neck. “Please, don’t stop.”

But you mean it in every sense - don't stop fucking you, as though every thrust and every shuddering release is a lifeline. Don’t stop loving you, as though the depth of his affection and the way he holds you close is your greatest comfort. Don’t stop pushing you to be who you are, to embrace every part of yourself, to feel alive in his arms and in his gaze. You want him to keep driving you to discover and explore every hidden part of yourself, to keep challenging and encouraging you in ways you never imagined.

He responds with a low, approving growl, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you with renewed fervour. “I won’t,” he promises, his voice rough with desire and a depth of emotion that goes beyond the physical. “Never.”

As he continues to thrust into you, his movements become more intense, more urgent, as if he’s trying to convey his promise with every powerful push. The room seems to pulse with the rhythm of your shared passion, the sounds of your pleasure echoing off the walls. Jongseong’s grip on your hips tightens, his touch both possessive and protective as he guides you through the waves of ecstasy.

“Feel every part of me,” he murmurs, his voice a blend of tenderness and raw need. “I’m right here, with you, always.”

The intensity of his thrusts pushes you closer to the edge, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through your entire body. His kisses become more fervent, each one a reminder of his love and his commitment. You can feel his heart pounding against your back, a steady, reassuring presence that matches the rhythm of his thrusts.

“You’re everything to me,” Jongseong says, his voice breaking slightly with the force of his emotions. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you ride the waves of pleasure he’s giving you. His words, combined with the sensation of him inside you and the way his lips leave their marks on your neck, create a powerful cocktail of intimacy and desire. “I don’t,” you manage to breathe out, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and gratitude. “I never will.”

With a final, deep thrust, Jongseong brings you both to the peak of your shared climax. Your body convulses in waves of pure, unadulterated bliss, each shudder and moan a testament to the intensity of your connection. Jongseong’s release follows closely, his groans mingling with yours as he holds you tightly, his kisses now soft and tender against your neck.

As the initial rush of pleasure begins to subside, your muscles gradually unwind, each tremor giving way to a lingering afterglow. The room is filled with the soft symphony of your synchronized breathing, the steady rise and fall of your chests in perfect harmony. Jongseong’s kisses on your neck become gentle, almost reverent, as he trails a tender path of affection across your skin. 

You feel his body relax against yours, his warmth enveloping you in a cocoon of intimacy. He pulls your face to his, capturing your lips in a deep, tender kiss that steals away the breath you had only just regained. Lost in the peacefulness of him, you savour the slow, lingering connection, each touch and caress a silent expression of his affection.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Jongseong murmurs against your lips, his voice low and inviting, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod, a contented smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s do it,” you reply, your voice filled with unwavering resolve, knowing that the moment you step out of this place you once called home, you’ll never look back. He grins, playfully nudging your nose with his, his eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and mischief. “If Emily even looks at you again when we go down there, I might just rip her eyes out.” Jongseong is sexy all of the time but he is even sexier with a post-sex glow, so you know there are going to be some eyes on him, a pair of them just better not be hers.

Jongseong’s laughter fills the room, a deep, resonant sound that carries a note of both joy and possessiveness. He rests his head on your shoulder, planting light, affectionate kisses. “And to think, I was the one who was supposed to keep my cool and not get possessive,” he teases, his voice light and full of warmth.

“You’re not the only possessive one in this relationship, you know?” you reply with a soft smile, a hint of playfulness in your tone. “I just don’t show it as much.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening as he shifts slightly, still buried to the hilt inside you. “I think you should show it more often,” he suggests, his voice low and laced with a delicious hint of provocation. “I’d let you put a collar on me and walk me like a dog if you asked.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you giggle, your laughter mingling with his as the intimate moment stretches between you, the connection deepening with every shared breath.

Eventually, you both begin to move, your limbs heavy with the lingering remnants of passion. The atmosphere shifts as you get dressed, pulling on your clothes with deliberate slowness, savouring the last few moments of solitude before reentering the world outside this room. The extravagant party downstairs beckons, the muffled sounds of music and laughter a distant hum, reminding you of the life you’re about to leave behind.

As you descend the grand staircase, the chandelier above casts a golden glow, illuminating the room filled with elegantly dressed guests, all of whom are focused on your father as he prepares to make a speech. The moment his eyes land on you and Jongseong, he falters, his gaze narrowing as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. His jaw tightens, and though he says nothing, the tension in the room shifts, a subtle ripple that everyone seems to sense. He knows exactly what you’ve been doing.

At the bottom of the stairs, you pause, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your mind. The opulence of this life, the weight of the expectations you’ve carried for so long, all press down on you. For a brief moment, doubt gnaws at the edges of your resolve.

Sensing your hesitation, Jongseong wraps his arms around you from behind, his presence grounding you in the here and now. He presses a tender kiss to your neck, soothing the marks he left there, his lips warm and reassuring against your skin. He keeps direct eye contact with your father, an unspoken challenge in his gaze, before turning his attention back to you.

“Let’s go, darlin’.”

And that’s all the encouragement you need to leave everyone in this room behind, everyone but the man holding you close, promising to love you forever.

_____

You sit across from each other in a worn red booth, the familiarity of the setting wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The walls are adorned with faded photographs and vintage memorabilia, a tribute to a simpler time that feels worlds away from the chaos that often surrounds your lives. The table between you is cluttered with half-eaten plates of food - greasy fries, a burger with a bite taken out of it, and a tall milkshake slowly melting in its glass. It’s a scene of domesticity, of normalcy

“I’m sorry, but not even anything in prison was that disgusting,” he quips, his eyebrows raised in exaggerated horror.

You can’t help but laugh at his theatrics, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. The way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world who matters, even with your food combination choices, makes your heart swell with affection. “Come on, just try it! I promise you’ll love it,” you urge, holding out a fry that you have dipped in your milkshake, your eyes sparkling with playful challenge.

Jongseong hesitates for a moment, then leans forward and takes a tentative bite. His expression shifts from scepticism to genuine surprise as the sweet and salty combination hits his taste buds. His eyes widen, and he breaks into a grin. “See?” you say, triumphantly, as he reaches for more fries, dipping them into the ice cream and stealing them from your plate.

“Get your own, oh my God!” you protest, swatting his hand away with a laugh, though there’s no real annoyance in your voice. It’s moments like these - small, stolen snippets of happiness - that make everything else worth it. The world outside might be chaotic, but here, in this little diner, it’s just the two of you, lost in each other.

But the illusion of safety is fragile. As you’re caught up in the moment, a subtle shift in the atmosphere catches Jongseong’s attention. A police car pulls up outside, its lights off but the engine still running. You barely notice it, too wrapped up in your banter, but Jongseong stiffens, his senses on high alert. His gaze follows the officers as they exit the car with a sense of purpose, their strides firm and unyielding as they approach the entrance.

You feel a prickle of unease, a small knot forming in your stomach as you notice Jongseong’s change in demeanour. His playful smile fades, replaced by a mask of cool detachment, his eyes darkening with the familiar wariness that never quite leaves him. The joy that lit up his face moments ago vanishes, leaving behind the hardened edges of a man who’s been on the run for far too long.

The officers push through the diner’s doors, their presence commanding immediate attention. They don’t bother with the usual pretence of surveying the room; their eyes are locked on your table from the moment they step inside. Your heart races as they approach, each step closer fueling your growing sense of dread.

“Park Jongseong?” one of the officers asks, his tone clipped and authoritative, as they come to a stop in front of your booth.

Jongseong doesn’t flinch. “Who’s asking?” he replies, his voice steady, laced with a defiant edge. He’s been here before, too many times to count, but it never gets any easier. The threat of losing his freedom, of being torn away from you, is always looming, always just one misstep away.

The officer’s gaze sharpens, not missing a beat. “You’re under arrest for theft. Anything you do or say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

Your heart skips a beat, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. Your mind reels back to the bank job you both pulled off, the thrill of it now tainted by the cold reality closing in around you. Jongseong remains unfazed on the surface, but you can see the flicker of realization in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens ever so slightly.

“Yeah? And what exactly did I steal?” Jongseong challenges, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he stands up, squaring his shoulders, ready for the confrontation. He never liked the police for obvious reasons, but what makes it worse is when they hound him like this when he has done nothing wrong.

The bank you robbed months ago would have already sent him to prison if they knew it was him, and any of the other petty crimes don’t require four policemen and a van.

The officer doesn’t back down, keeping his tone calm but firm. “Mr. L/N has reported his diamond cufflinks missing, and when we searched your place, we found them.”

Your boyfriend lets out a harsh laugh, the sound bitter and incredulous. “Yeah? First of all, you can’t search my home because I don’t have one. Second of all, you need a warrant for that, don’t you?” But even as he speaks, you can see the gears turning in his mind. If your father is behind this, as it now seems, the situation is far worse than he’d anticipated.

Your dad is far more powerful than you could ever imagine. That time in prison only gave him more contacts than enemies, and with Jongseong just another fish in a pond, they will happily throw him back to the sea with the right amount of persuasion. 

Before Jongseong can react, the officer pulls out a pair of handcuffs, snapping them around his wrists with practised ease. He struggles, but it’s no use, the cuffs hold firm, and the officers aren’t about to let him go.

“Jongseong!” you cry out, desperation lacing your voice as you rush to him, placing yourself between him and the officers. Your hands cradle his face, trying to keep him grounded, to keep him from doing something reckless. His eyes soften as he looks down at you, trying to offer a reassuring smile, but you can see the worry etched into his features.

“It’s okay, darlin’. They’ve got nothing on me,” he says, his voice gentle, but you both know the truth: if your father is pulling the strings, there’s no telling how deep this goes. He’s trying to comfort you, to make you believe that everything will be fine, but there’s a part of him that’s not so sure. 

“But-” you start, only to be silenced by the press of his lips against yours. The kiss is soft at first, a promise of return, but it quickly turns desperate, as if he’s trying to memorise the feel of you, to hold onto this moment in case it’s the last. It’s a kiss that tells you everything you need to know - he’s scared, and so are you.

You can’t lose him.

The officers pull him away, and you watch helplessly as Jongseong is dragged out of the diner and shoved into the back of the police car. His face, once full of life and laughter, is now clouded with that deadpan stare. You run out after him helplessly and fear for what will come coursing your veins. 

Through the window, he mouths the words, “I love you,” and you nod, tears blurring your vision as you choke out the response, “I love you too.”

As the police car drives away, taking him with it, the world around you seems to crumble, leaving you standing alone in the diner’s driveway. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, snapping you out of your daze. You pull it out, and your heart sinks when you see the message from your father: “Come home, princess. Be a good girl.”

The words ignite a fire in you, a seething anger that burns hotter with every passing second. You clench your fists, your eyes falling on the ring Jongseong gave you - the promise of a future together, a future you’re determined to fight for. You made a vow to him, to wait for him no matter what, to stand by his side through thick and thin. But before you can keep that promise, there’s one last obstacle you need to overcome.

Your father.

_____

the apartment we won't share | CS55

a carlos sainz x fem!doctor! reader oneshot

summary : inspired by niki's the apartment we won't share, carlos and his partner navigate through their emotions as they part ways — their minds lingering on the things they've done and could have done.

warnings : slightest bit of angst and a sprinkle of hurt

word count : 927

a/n : i actually shed a tear writing this one it hurts so bad...i have a love-hate relationship with it and i wouldn't wish this experience upon my worst enemy. it's a oneshot so, i'll leave you with that ;)

all the best, ellie.

---------------------------------------------------------

the last box sat untouched in the hallway, flaps open like a gaping mouth that still had room to swallow the final pieces of what used to be them.

carlos leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her kneel in front of the kitchen cabinet — the cabinet where they used to argue about where mugs should go. she was pulling out the last few plates she claimed were hers, her movements mechanical, almost too quiet, as though sound might make it real. the sound of the plates clinking as she stacked them reverberated throughout the kitchen.

he hated the silence more. it was sharp and deafening. none of them knew which would break first — them, or the plates in her hand.

“you’re taking the white ones?” he asked, voice rough as if he’d been choking it down his throat.

she paused, blinking up at him. her hazel eyes looked tired — not the tired you fix with sleep, but the kind that buries itself in your bones. “yeah,” she answered. “they were mine when we first moved.”

“right,” he nodded. “right.”

the clock ticked like it had been waiting for them to notice the seconds they were wasting. the apartment that once was filled with late-night takeout and her humming while she studied on the couch, with his racing gear tossed in corners and promises whispered between flights — felt cold now. like it had already let go of them before they had let go of each other.

it hadn’t always been this way. there was a time they used to sit cross-legged on the floor, her in his sweater, him still in socks from a flight, planning a life that now would never happen.

they had plans.

“we’ll always have dinner together. no matter what. even if it's just ramen at midnight,” she’d once insisted, and he had pinky-promised it over chinese takeout.

they had a list of countries to visit on the off-season : greece, argentina, new zealand.

they talked about a dog. about moving somewhere quieter after his career. about maybe starting a family someday, when hospital shifts didn’t break her and jet lag didn’t swallow him whole.

none of it came.

instead, there were missed calls. cold food. messages left on read at the worst times. she slept through his races. he didn’t make it back before her night shifts. they became two ghosts in the same apartment.

until the night it cracked wide open.

“you’re never here,” she said, standing in the doorway of their bedroom, arms wrapped around herself. “and when you are, you’re… not with me.”

she never begged. he always promised that it wouldn’t be necessary because he would never give her a reason for it. and yet here she was, her voice breaking in desperation.

carlos exhaled. “i’m trying, joder. you think i don’t miss you too?”

“you missed my birthday, carlos.”

he flinched. “i was stuck in japan. i told you—”

“that’s the point. there’s always something. a race, an appearance, media, flights, engineers — there’s always a reason i'm not worth showing up for. come on, carlos? not even a text? or an attempt to call?”

“that’s not fair.”

she laughed bitterly. “isn’t it? we said we’d make it work.”

“and we did,” he snapped. “for as long as we could.”

silence.

she stared at him then, really looked at him — the man she’d memorized and loved and lost, all in the same body.

“we can’t keep doing this,” she whispered. “this slow dying of something that was once beautiful.”

and the worst part?

he didn’t disagree.

so they packed.

box by box.

memory by memory.

now she taped the final one and stood, brushing her hands on her jeans.

carlos stepped forward, hesitating.

“so… this is it.”

she nodded. “yeah.”

“i don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

“then don’t say anything,” she said. “not this time.”

but still, she lingered in the kitchen, her hand on the countertop they once sat at, legs tangled as they talked about cities and calendars and dreams. she looked at him, really looked.

“i hope one day we stop hurting when we think of each other,” she said.

he swallowed hard. “do you think we will?”

she didn’t answer right away.

“i don’t know. i hope so,” she finally said. “but hope is… tricky.”

then she picked up the box, carried it toward the door, and opened it slowly.

she paused, her back to him.

“i don’t hate you, carlos” she said. saying his name felt like a lump in her throat. “i never did.”

his voice came out broken. “i know.”

and with that, she stepped into the hallway, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

carlos didn’t move. the apartment buzzed with silence. empty shelves. a faint outline of where their photo frame used to hang. a wine stain on the carpet from a clumsy night full of laughter.

gone.

he walked over to check the remaining things they left. his eye caught a beige envelope lying on the shelf. he assumed it was hers — it was too neatly folded to be someone else’s. it seemed as though it was okay for the letter to either be found or not.

with a sigh, he tucked the paper in his back pocket and walked over to the light switch by the door, hand trembling.

he looked around one last time.

then he turned off the lights.

and in the darkness, all that remained were the echoes of everything they didn’t become.