ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ'ꜱ ʜʏᴍɴ

till forever falls apart 𑁍ࠬܓ jake sim

pairing: widower!jake x fem!reader

genre: LOTS of angst like a lot, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort/no comfort, some fluff here and there, coming of age, bittersweet ending.

word count: 8k words (or more..)

synopsis: jake came unto your life when you needed it the most. you didn’t expect it but he did and it all did happen on that one specific bench behind the beach you both grew up on, that one summer night. jake just had no idea you would slip through his fingers the way you did. and not that fast either.

warnings: character death, grief & loss, jake is a widower and has a daughter, unknown illness, mature language & cursing, low self worth, depression, mental break downs, fighting, marriage, mentions of seizures, hospitality, medication, just a lot of sad shit i’m so sorry in advanced.

a/n: here it is. mind you i wrote this with a heavy heart and a lot of thoughts in mind ( ; ω ; ) but either way i hope you all like this as much as i liked writing it. this is not proofread by the way, i apologize.

Jake’s feet were practically dragging. Everyone would probably have noticed that but in that moment, his biggest wish would probably be to erase everyone’s existence. He’s been living in his own shadow for felt like years. The only one he’s been vividly making eye contact with was his daughter and the florist he’s been going to for the past few months. Yet it felt for much longer. After all he was counting the days. With a heavy heart that was once filled to the brim with happiness and all the things he’s ever wanted.

The florist, a lady in her late fifties, always welcomed Jake with open arms and it was gestures like that, that made him feel smaller than ever. He wanted to return it, he really did but all he could do, was request the bouquet of flower he was in search for, with an even heavier heart. And if the words weren’t enough, he would point to that one specific section where they were kept. It usually didn’t take long since he memorized it.

Your favorite ones.

Peonies.

His mom called him before he left to buy those flowers. He was surprised with how different she sounded compared to him, or maybe it was because he was starting to forget how everyone sounded, especially those the closest to him. After all he was completely wrapped up in his own arms that felt far too empty and cold to the touch that he couldn’t help but let it happen. With his phone pressed to his ear, he let his mom do the talking while he was busy staring at nothing. More like the place where you used to sleep beside him and him basking in the comfort of your soft snores. You felt so close, so warm. You provided the warm that was missing and now he had to bask unto nothing but coldness. A lit up candle couldn’t even mend the wounds together. He had no idea how long he stayed on the phone with his mom for but at some point he could hear her sniffle and being in the state he was, he couldn’t ask her what was wrong. He was barely doing better himself.

And the call ended with him saying nothing and her saying it wasn’t his fault. The exact same thing she said the last time he saw her those many months ago.

He was debating whether to go check in on his daughter, knowing she would question the state he was. It wad the witty and her ability to be attentive and Jake knew she got that from you. He saw you right through her.

These were one of the days where he was far too deep unto the dark corners of his mindset where he didn’t bother with himself and how hard he was on himself. Jake almost breathed a sigh in relief when he saw his daughter still passed out in her bed, white sheets pulled up to her chin and tightly wrapped around her, the cloud lamp that you gifted to her on her fourth birthday, perfectly dimmed and casting a mellow glow over the roundness of her cheeks. Down on the floor, was Layla sleeping, with her resting on her front paws. The dog he got when he was ten, the one you raised with him.

This was one of the moments where Jake allowed himself to smile, a small smile without feeling bad for doing so.

Jake shook his head when he heard a voice briefly pull him out of his thoughts. His visions cleared and he saw the florist give him a sympathetic smile, probably sensing something, the grey hair framing her face in a way that matched her soft yet gentle features.

“Are you okay, young man?”

Jake was a bit taken aback but settled for a nod before eyeing the bouquet that the lady has managed to wrap up with obvious care.

It was like she saw right through him.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone.” She sadly smiled.

“These flowers,” She gestured to the Peonies, “They are for someone.. someone special, aren’t they?”

Gulping, Jake averted his eyes but still nodded.

“She was my everything,” He slowly forced out and he saw the lady perk up, “My childhood sweetheart, my best friend, my wife. And the mother to our daughter.”

“She was also basically everything I wasn’t yet she still made sure to remind me that she would love me no matter what. Her grip on my hand was tight until it wasn’t but even so, I knew she wouldn’t let go no matter what,” Jake swallowed back his urge to cry, but talking about her tugged at the strings holding him together. And he felt like the lady sensed that before she settled a old wrinkly hand on his shoulder.

The tears were already rolling down by then. Tears he’s been holding in all those months ever since.

“She sounded lovely,” Patting his shoulder, she continued, “I know she would’ve been proud of you especially for still being here, somewhere on the ground where she can look at you from afar,”

“I miss her, ma’am.” Looking up with bloodshot eyes, the lady offered another sympathetic smile, before handling him a tissue.

“I know, child.” She nodded, “I’m not saying you will overcome this grief soon or frankly ever. But you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. When you think about her, please do not always think about the negatives that comes along with it, think about the fact that out of everyone, you were the one she chose. Think about how she chose to love you even with all your flaws and how none of those things would ever change the way she saw you.”

Jake remembered the day. Clear and bright under the moonlight. He was eleven, fairly tall for his height with black strands that always fell over his eyes with how the wind always loved to mess with it. Everyone said that he had that soft look yet gentle demeanor look from his mom, he’s heard it so much to the point where he started believing them. After all his mom was a phenomenal woman.

Ever since dad walked out on both of them, mom has tried her hardest to raise him by herself despite her being young still. She was still in her youth and it was a sad sight to not see her do all the things people her age did. Travel the world, figure out themselves and planning their future without anyone standing in their way of doing so. Jake’s biggest fear was being in her way specifically, being a burden but the warmth from her embrace managed to tell him everything he needed to know. And so he tried his best to help her despite not knowing half of the things he did but he didn’t want his mom to cry anymore. He didn’t want her to downgrade herself and blame herself for things that were out of her control. He wanted her to go to bed with a gentle mindset and now all of the things that used to eat her up.

His mom went to sleep early that night and Jake promised himself that he would prep himself his own dinner and cut up some fruit for his mom since he knew she loved those, and then take out the trash.

Opening the gates, he dragged the plastic bag behind him before dumping it in the big green trash container. The summer nights were getting warmer and times like this reminded Jake off how much he loved it. Giving a toothy grin, he whipped his two hands on the front of his shorts before turning back to head inside, but not before casting a look over his shoulder.

There he saw someone. A few feet away from him.

At first, Jake had no idea what they were doing before walking closer. They were just. Sitting on the bench, in front of the beach. How odd.

“If you’re gonna stare, can you at least be less.. obvious with it?” The person asked, almost nonchalantly.

It was a girl.

Jake didn’t respond, fear of embarrassing himself further so he settled for walking closer to her before taking a seat beside her. So this was what she was doing, just looking at the waves. This late at night?

The young boy scratched behind his head with a small chuckle, “Sorry.. I didn’t think you would notice me,”

She casted him a side eye look before rolling her eyes.

“You’re not exactly quiet.”

And then she turned to stare back at the beach’s many waves. The stars glimmering in reflection with the water. It was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that.

He never bothered looking at where she was looking. But instead he decided to take her in. She was dressed in a white nightgown with a scruff at the end and at the ends of the sleeves, her hair wasn’t tied up or anything but fell behind her shoulders due to the wind, pointy nose, eyelashes casting a dim shadow on her the top of her cheeks which were a bit flushed due to the not too chilly breeze.

Jake might’ve been young but he wasn’t young enough to not know was beauty was when he saw it. And this might have been the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on. She might’ve been as beautiful as his mom.

“You really have a staring problem,” She told him, amusement evident in her voice.

“What!” Jake shook his head before scooting away from her, “What is that even supposed to mean!”

“Hmmm…” The still unknown girl tapped her chin lightly.

“It means you stare too much. My mom says that stuff will have you go blind.”

So this was how she wanted to play.

“Well, she’s wrong!”

He knew he hit a sensitive spot when the girl before him gaped lightly at what he said before huffing. He felt the panic dwell in and he was about to apologize before he heard her burst unto a fit of laughter.

“You should have seen the look on your face!”

Jake knew that day, that her laughter, that sound was his favorite melody of all time.

⋆

If anyone asked what you thought of Jake, the first thing that immediately came to your mind was — an oddball.

It didn’t add more to it when you both lived in the same neighborhood. Only two houses away from each other. To add more to it, your mom and his mom knew each other since they used to go to the same highschool together. They both suffered from the loss of their husbands, with yours dying before you were even born, which meant you had no idea who he was. So you lived off your mom’s words about him, the picture frames around the house and the photobooks your mom kept in a small box in the basement.

It was like your moms’ relationship drew you closer to Jake and now that you took a closer look at him, he wasn’t so bad and he wasn’t as irritating as the other boys in your class. The ones who said girls had cooties and girl disease. In fact, you took a hold of how Jake wanted or more so, looked forward to spending time with you any chance he got. He also came by a lot especially after school asking for you. You were pretty sure your mom held some kind of favoritism towards him because she never wasted a breath when it came to the boy with the brightest eyes you’ve ever seen. And before you knew it, you warmed up to him. It didn’t take long but it wasn’t fast either. You were a girl with a lot of things on your mind and frankly, you were just perfectly fine in your own world and peace. But Jake managed to add something to that. You had no idea what or how, but he did.

“Y/N look!”

You looked up from how absentmindedly you were coloring in a butterfly, when you saw Jake running towards you..

With a dog? On a leash?

You sat up with a slight gasp at the sight out of the creature and before you knew it, the dog hopped on you leaving gentle but happy licks all over your face.

“Layla, no!” Jake yelled sternly.

Holding up your arms, you tried blocking them away with a loud laugh before you settled for petting her. Not before pushing her away tho.

“Oh my,” The boy before you sighed in distress, a hand coming up to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “I’m so sorry about that Y/N. She’s still a puppy, so she’s full of energy,”

“Don’t apologize,” You shake your head before allowing Layla to take up the space on your lap for some more scritches.

“But I’m kinda mad, why didn’t you tell me you had a dog!”

“Umm…” Jake giggled sheepishly, “I actually just got her a few days ago. I was gonna tell you eventually..”

You gasped in mock offense before picking up a coloring pencil to throw at him.

“Hey!”

“You could’ve still have told me!”

“I was going to!”

Your bickering stopped by Layla jumping off your lap and running around the both of you in circles, indicating she wanted to play and have some energy spent. As if she hasn’t done that already.

“We we’re actually planning on going to the beach,”

Jake saw the way your eyes lit up and he couldn’t help the quick stutter his heart did. What was this feeling?

“Really? Can I join?”

“That was the plan, silly,”

Dusting off your lap from Layla’s jump earlier, you were about to stand up before two hands grabbed yours. Gently, they pulled you up to your feet and then gently let go. Almost as if knowing what was going on, Layla looked back and forth between the two young humans in front of her, before she barked to gather their attention.

“Oh! Uh, she’s getting impatient, we should go,” Jake quickly mumbled out before picking up his dog’s leash off the where he dropped it in the grass.

“Wait!” You looked back at your house before looking back at your friend.

And by then, Jake already knew what was stirring up your hesitation. He smiled at you reassuringly.

“I already told your mom. She said dinner will be done by the time you’re home.”

You could finally let out the breath you’ve been holding.

“Plus your mom loves me,” Jake quipped teasingly.

The young boy laughed at your eye roll and before you both knew it, you were both running, along with Layla down to the beach, with the dog before the both of you barking profusely with a hint of excitement. The whole afternoon was just you and Jake by each other’s side, with his dog running back and forth in the water. She even shook all of her water from her fur at both of you at some point to the point where you both were on the sand rolling around, both of your laughters mixing together that mingled in the sky above off you. It added more to the memories and you both knew you would be thinking about that day till the day you both grew old and wrinkly.

You knew that day, that you wouldn’t wanna spend days like these with anybody but with Jake.

⋆

Years went by, things blossomed and so did your bond with Jake.

It went from meeting him to that one random night on the beach, to you finding out you lived just barely away from each other, to you starting classes together properly after your mom’s job paid her enough for that to happened. You remember the sheer happiness when she told you that and how much that meant to younger you. You weren’t isolated by any means, in fact, your mom encouraged you to check the world for yourself. But you would rather have things done at your pace, so that’s what you did. Luckily she understood and you were beyond thankful.

You also noticed changes about Jake. At some point you and him were the same height, but ever since highschool hit, he’s grown like a head, almost two heads taller than you. He’s grown his fringes out, even at some point dyed it through the school years to the point where you had no idea how many times he did it. You remember one time dyeing it for him tho and that shit was a complete disaster and you wouldn’t have blamed him if he wanted to bald that way. You were still attached to the hip pretty much.

But something that has been coming back to biting you, was that you had no idea where you and Jake’s relationship were interlinked at. You were both seniors in highschool now and things were rocky. God forbid your younger self thought that growing older would result in you being able to talk about your feelings and emotions better, but no. You realized that wasn’t the case. There was definitely something holding you back. You just didn’t wanna come to terms with what it was. Running a hand through your head, you plopped down your bed, arms and legs spread out.

“Y/N?” You suddenly heard someone knock on your door before a head peeked in.

“Did you remember to take your medication?” She asked before stepping foot unto your room.

“Mom.. we already talked about this,”

“You can’t just keep pushing me away,” She insisted

You huffed before sitting, “Can’t we talk about this later please? I have to study for an upcoming exam. I promise I’ll take them later,”

“Y/N—“

“—Mom please..” You looked away from her, voice wavering, “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

You heard her sigh, before footsteps and the sound of your door being closed.

Reaching out for your phone on your bedside, your first instinct was to text Jake. But you knew the sound of his voice was exactly what you needed right now. More than anything. Hovering your thumb over his Caller ID, you slowly started debating if this really was a good idea. Now that you think about it, you and Jake haven’t really talked much due to busy schedules, and you’ve also noticed him confiding comfort in a group of friends you’ve never talked to before, while you had a group of friends of your own.

You missed him. And it was eating you up from the inside.

“Fuck it,” You whispered before dialing his number.

The ringing was not a fit match for how quick your heart was beating, it was practically beating out of your chest and you didn’t like it. Not one bit. But you couldn’t deny in how much need you were of his voice. It was almost embarrassing.

He still had no idea.

“Y/N?”

You smiled. After all this time, his voice was still your favorite tune.

“Hi Jake..”

“Y/N? Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Why do you always assume that something’s wrong?” You giggled and even tho you couldn’t see his face, you knew his face was definitely scrunched up in his one infamous frowns.

“Well, I’m sorry for caring I guess,”

“No you’re not,”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

The same old Jake.

“I miss you, y’know?” He finally spoke up, “I feel like I barely see you anymore.”

“I’m still here, Jake. Life has just.. been busy you know—“

“—Y/N, no,”

You heard some shuffling on the other side of the line, before a dejected sigh.

“It’s because I barely see you anymore. Even your friends are worried about you. You’re still at school, I know you are because I know you wouldn’t miss any of your classes no matter how busy or tired you are but you always disappear so quickly after..”

“Like is there something you aren’t telling me?”

You wanted to tell him.

You wanted to tell him so badly but you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the look on his face when you did. He would be crushed and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself for that.

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. Why wouldn’t they be?”

“Y/N—“

“No y’know what? I actually called you because I needed you and now you throw this on me—You and my mom are exactly the same. You both say the same shit and it’s pissing me off,” Not wasting a second thought, you hung up before throwing your phone on your bed, silent tears rolling down your face.

You went to sit on the bench by the beach the same day, after you heard your mom went to bed. Pulling up your knees closer to yourself, you were silently beating yourself up for not wearing something warmer. Though, you were eyeing your jacket, more or so Jake’s jacket that was hanging around your chair but decided not to take it at last minute.

Wrapping your arms around your knees, you took a look up at the night sky. The moon was seeking it’s place behind some dark clouds, the stars were doing their own things, the wind was getting colder. It was as if everything was going by slower? Or faster? You were not sure anymore but you knew it’s been an push and pull trick ever since that day.

Would it be too early to give up now?

“I knew I would find you here.”

“You can’t keep running away from us, from me, Y/N. I won’t let that happen,”

You turned your head, tears slowly starting to brim your eyes again. You didn’t want him to see you this way. Then there is a sudden pressure on your shoulders and by now you knew Jake has wrapped your upper body up in his jacket, with him now in his white sweatshirt and black plaid pajamas pants. He wasn’t expecting any response from you, in fact, he was just happy to be in your presence and not you running away nor pushing him away.

“I won’t force you to say anything,” He slowly sits down, the space beside you always available for him. There hasn’t been a day where it hasn’t been.

“But.. I hope you know you can talk—“

“I don’t have a lot of time, Jake,”

The first pen drop.

When you didn’t receive any response, you turned your head and hoped for the worst. Jake was still staring forward, towards the waves and how more far away they suddenly sounded.

“I only have two years left.”

That made him turn his head to look at you. The look in his eyes made your heart drop. In all these many years you’ve known Jake, you have never seen him look like this, so empty, so hollow of thoughts, so broken and if you weren’t such a mess yourself, you would have tried to pick up pieces back together. But what was it worth if you couldn’t even pick up your own? Staying alive at this point felt like a chore, a walk even down to the beach sometimes took all the air out of your lungs if you didn’t take your medications.

You managed to catch the tear you saw roll down his cheek with the soft pad of your thump. He gripped your wrist in his hand when he felt it about to retreat and held it up to his cheek, fearing you would disappear faster if he didn’t. Your warmth was all he needed now. Jake hated asking for too much but he wanted to be selfish for once, right now.

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head, feeling the tears roll again, “I should’ve told you. But this was what I was fearing for. Seeing your reaction, seeing the look on your face especially after—“

Feeling a warm gentle hand cupping your cheek, you felt your words get caught in your throat when you took in the way he looked at you now. There was still sadness lingering but you really couldn’t put a finger on what the rest was. But that didn’t really occur your mind. You just needed him to say something.

“Jake, please say something..” You begged, voice cracking, “Yell at me, scream at me, anything!”

You failed to see the way he moved closer.

“Especially for the way I’ve been treating you. That’s the least I deserve,” Pushing at his chest, you couldn’t help but let more tears roll, the place on your lap a sea of your own sorrows by that point

“Why are you looking at me like that, Jake please—“

Your hands faltered their pushing on his chest when you felt something soft yet wet on your lips. Closing your eyes which were still filled with tears, you pushed yourself closer and basked in the gentle kiss that belonged to him.

It was always him.

You knew it by now, you knew it ever since your first encounter on that one night at the beach, at the exact same place where you were at now.

⋆

A lot has changed, with how low your energy has gotten, you couldn’t bring yourself to attend to classes psychically anymore. And by what your personal doctor has said, any stress can trigger the most especially in the state you’re in right now and nobody, especially your mother wouldn’t ever wanna take that risk. So you settled for going to school but at home instead, in the walls of your room. Your routine has gotten progressively more straightforward than what it usually was. You were drained and the eye bags under your would tell anyone a story that you, yourself wouldn’t be able to, lips chapped and peeling. You could barely recognize the sight of yourself anymore.

Jake was walking around with a heavy heart. You were finally his but at what cost? These past weeks has just been him lingering by your side more and more each day to the point he might practically live at your place now. Frankly, he wasn’t doing better himself. He was beating himself up for making everything seem like your fault when nothing was ever your fault to begin it. The world was just too cruel to make space for someone as precious and as delicate as you, the world never deserved you. Jake can’t count the amount of times he’s managed to utter those words to you, while trailing his browns over your features, with your hands interlocked under the sea of stars and crescent moon. And he memorized your reaction to his words each time. You were really the most endearing piece of art to him.

He knew you were trying. You even told him you were so he wouldn’t worry too much, you would fe your ribs construct whenever you saw the way he was trying so hard to keep himself from breaking down when he felt the warmth from your hands, from your body slowly leave your body day by then. All that warmth that you usually provided, was all gone. All the warmth he would confide in whether it was after a stressful day after of classes, work or the insignificant days where he got unto an argument with his mother. He was seeking for your warmth everywhere he went.

Yet Jake held unto the last amount of warmth you had left. That was all he could do.

“Jake,” He heard his mother’s voice speak up before he felt her shake his shoulders, obviously trying to wake him from his afternoon nap.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Groaning he sat up and was met with his mom’s frantic pacing.

He gave her a confused look.

“Mom—?”

“It’s Y/N,” She breathed out, “Her mom just called from the at the hospital..”

“Apparently she had a seizure,”

That was then Jake felt his whole world collapse.

This couldn’t be..

“B-But how.. I.. She was okay when I saw her last day..” He felt his breath getting stuck along with his world. This couldn’t be. His mom didn’t say anything but instead pulled him unto his arms and that was where Jake allowed himself to break down fully. Without any care in the world. You were getting further and further away each day and he had no idea how to cope with it. He was angry, frustrated, why was he letting this happen? Why couldn’t he have done more? For you?

You deserved everything, but this.

⋆

“I will miss seeing the stars,”

Even with a light hoarse lilt to your voice, it still sounded soft and gentle in Jake’s ears. Like it always has. You were wearing a soft smile when looking at the stars from the hospital window, that never seemed to falter when you turned to look at him.

“I know you will, my love.”

Your smile faltered when you noticed that he was in deep in thoughts. He always we’re but this time it wasn’t out of sheer sadness and distress but more like.. he was bashful?

“Is something bothering you, my Jake?”

He didn’t respond but from the corner of your eyes, you saw him pull out a small black velvet box. You gasped.

“I know we’re still young and all but..” He says carefully, “But you’re probably the only person I’ve ever felt this sure with. This secure with and I honestly couldn’t have asked for someone better,”

Slowly opening the box, there was it. A ring. A silver ring littered with small diamonds on the sides, with the biggest one being shaped in a crystallized star. You looked up and you realized Jake hasn’t looked away from you once, trying his best to read your reaction and body language, making sure he hasn’t been overstepping anything.

“I know you hate asking for much, just like I do but..”

“Jake I..” You shake your head, eyes wide, “It’s beautiful..”

Taking out the ring from the box, he gently took your hand before slipping the ring on before bringing it up to seal it with a kiss to your knuckles.

“You don’t have to say anything.. I know that—“

“My Jake, of course I wanna marry you..”

⋆

Jake woke up startled to the someone knocking on his front door. Automatically he reached beside him but was met with nothing but the cold sheets.

Heaving another deep sigh from his chest, he slipped on slippers before walking downstairs, careful not to wake up his daughter. He was met with Layla who was pressing her snout against the door, curious herself, tail slightly wagging before letting out a small bark at the sight of her owner

“Hey girl,” He cooed with a scratch to the canine’s head, “Be quiet now, wouldn’t wanna wake anyone up would we?”

Honestly, Jake had no idea what he was expecting when opening the door but..

“Mrs. Y/N?”

“Hi son..” She muttered, “I hope you’re doing okay. Look, I-I don’t have much time but this morning I came across this while cleaning up in Y/N’s room and found this,”

The woman gave a careful smile and that was then he noticed a small envelope in her hand.

“I was about to open it but I think it was meant for you,”

Carefully taking the letter, he examined it before turning it around where he noticed something written in messy yet distinguished writing.

‘For him <3’

⋆

‘Dear you,

I don’t know what this letter will be when you receive it but I hope it lands safely in your hands.

Life hasn’t been easy and to be honest, I never expected it to be. You and I both know that. But what I do know is that you’ve made my life easier. I don’t know if that has do with the solace from your words or the stars from your eyes. But in me somewhere, I knew you changed my life for the better. I can’t think of a person who’s made me laugh and smile as much as you have, I think that itself alone is impossible if you ask me.

I hope you aren’t too hard on yourself. And if you are, a reminder that I never wanted you to be and neither does your mother and our daughter. I may not be here when you read this so please think about them when life gets hard and when you can feel yourself shift the blame on yourself for all the things that was never your fault to begin with. I didn’t ask for how my life turned out, neither did you. None of us did. Life just has some dwelling sometimes and at some point, they like to take it out on one of us.

It’s not fair. I know.

But I hope you can look up at the stars and see me.

I will always be here with you.

Your, Y/N L/N.’

taglist: @karinasbaby @nishions @hittoki @superbbananananana @mimizen127 @jjunie-0 @ghostiiess

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Me too dia... me too

one of the girls in a nutshell

mila w/ enha: i just wanna be one of your girls tonight…

mila w/ this mf: lock me up and throw away the key, he knows how to get the best out of me….

dancing with the devil. preview

pairing : fuckbuddy!jake x afab!reader

genre : angst, smut, hurt no comfort, totga

warnings : heartbreak, mature and sexual themes, drinking, smoking weed, usage of profanity (a lot!), jake can be a dick, morally gray characterization, just hear me out it’s a ride of emotions

taglist : OPEN! leave a comment or ask

IN WHICH, you want more and he can’t give it to you.

wc : 1.5k ??? idk sorry LOL (estimated 15-20k)

reblogs are super appreciated 💝

THE BASS SHOOK YOUR BODY, reverberating in your chest as you navigated through the sea of bodies in the crowded living room. You were shocked as to how hundreds of university students could fit in a shitty basement suite, but who were you to complain? Lights illuminated the crowd in hues of the most vibrant of colours, casting large shadows against the walls. You had never been one for loud, crowded places, but tonight was different.

Tonight? You were on a mission.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face amidst the chaos. And then, you saw him.

Ah, Jake Sim. The very (and only) reason you even thought of, let alone decided to go to a party. It’s not like you didn’t drink or didn’t have any friends, quite the contrary. You just never found any interest in mingling with sweaty bodies for hours just to stumble home and wake up with a raging headache. All of that is thrown out the window, anyway. You’re already here, faced with the purpose of your arrival.

You and Jake have a somewhat complicated relationship. You’ve known of each other since middle school, and even became apart same friend group for all four years of high school.

But you weren’t friends with Jake.

No, no you weren’t allowed to be friends with Jake.

Park Sunghoon, your now ex-boyfriend and current best friend of Jake absolutely hated the idea of you getting close to him. You never understood why he hated the idea of you and Jake being close; you never got the chance to even talk to the guy, let alone give Sunghoon a reason to forbid a friendship. You were quick to assume maybe he just didn’t like you being around guys, which was even quicker to be ruled out as a possibility. You were friends with every other one of his best friends except Jake.

Jake jumped at the chance to talk to you the second he heard the front door of his and Sunghoon’s shared apartment slam shut; the second he saw his best friend standing with his head hanging low in the middle of their shared space. He knew that was it. You guys were done and he yearned for you both but God, was he excited. He knew Sunghoon messed up when he didn’t tell you he was leaving to study abroad until days before his departure. He knew you were going to break up when he saw your face shift through all kinds of confusing emotions when he told you he was leaving. He knew this was his chance to finally get you.

It’s no surprise to anyone that Jake found you extremely attractive. Hell, he found you more beautiful than anyone, anything he’s ever seen. He sees more than just physical perfection; he sees the essence of everything he’s ever longed for. Your eyes hold a universe of secrets and desires, each flicker of emotion a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of your soul. Your smile is like the first light of dawn, it dances across your lips, a melody of joy and mischief that leaves him breathless.

He remembers how surprised you were when he first texted you out of the blue, even if it was a simple

hey

ik this is so outta no where 😭

but

how are you doing?

He remembers how surprised he was when you started responding to him in longer sentences. He remembers when your conversations prolonged for hours. He remembers when you confided in him on your problems. He remembers you told him when something good happened, and most of all? He remembers when you finally agreed to go to a party.

But not just any party, no. No, Jake had much more planned.

Sometimes he feels bad for himself. Sunghoon was being selfish and kept you away from him for the past four years? Jake thought Sunghoon was the luckiest motherfucker alive for having you as his girlfriend. He envied that Sunghoon would be able to call you his, he would be able to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close to his body around everyone, he would be able to kiss your plush lips that he could only dream of tasting, he would be able to hear you would moan out his name and chant it like a mantra. At the same time, Jake understood why Sunghoon kept you from him.

Sunghoon knew the way Jake looked at you.

He never said it, he didn’t want to confront it, so he dealt with it how he could to keep both your love and his friend in his life.

It’s funny how time can be so cruel.

It was inevitable that you started to slowly fall for Jaks as time went on. He filled the void that his best friend left in your heart. He was there for you and was objective with his opinion, he was soft yet stern with his words, he made your bad days good and your good days better, he made you feel new heights of joy, and he was exactly what you needed. You wanted Jake and there was nothing you could do about it; you were falling before you could catch yourself. You were unsure with if what you felt for Jake was right, if Sunghoon would be upset if he knew you guys talked- Wait, did he even know you guys talked?

Yet, you found yourself excited and void of any feelings of uncertainty when you saw Jake sporting a toothy smile on his face as he took another sip of God knows what in his cup.

He stood out like a scorching flame in the darkness of an abyss, his golden hair catching the hues of neon casting the room as he laughed with his friends. There was something so captivating about him, something that made everything around him glow, something that drew you in despite your better judgment.

With a deep breath, you pushed your way through the compact crowd, determined to make your move before doubt could take hold of you and push you away from this scenario. As you approached him, your heart pounded in your chest, the sound drowned out by the pulsing music. You could feel the second he saw you, the heat of his gaze burning your skin as you drew nearer, anticipation mingling with nerves in the pit of your stomach.

When you finally reached him, he looked down at you with the same grin. It sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps coated your skin, so much so you couldn’t tell if you were cold or if this was just the effect he had on you.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” he teased, his voice low and husky, yet loud enough to reach your ears over the deafening music.

You laughed, trying to ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he pulled you into a warm embrace. His arms looped loosely around your waist after pulling out of the hug, you swear your skin was burning under his touch

You could smell the alcohol radiating on his body. Alcohol. That’s what you needed.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed the red cup in his hand and downed the rest of what he had left. You felt the fiery burn flow through your body and veins- why the fuck is this so strong?

For a moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a vulnerability that you had never seen before. A dark gaze that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

God, Jake could cum to the image of you downing his drink.

"Couldn't stay away, could I?" you shot back, your tone playful despite the rapid beat of your heart.

"I'm glad you came," he said, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, “didn’t think you would.”

“Yeah?” you respond, Jake looks at you with a slight shrug before grinning

“Yeah, but you did,” he tightened the hold on your body and pulled you closer to his body, your arms found home looped around his neck, “for me.”

You felt the warmth spreading to your face after his last sentence. You weren’t sure whether it was the alcohol or the fact he made you so flustered.

“It’s okay though,” he leaned in closer to your face, lips centimetres apart, “I came here for you.”

He was about to kiss you, you’re sure. You could feel his breath ghosting your lips, but then he loosened his grip on you and back away. Before you could question if you did something wrong, he grabbed a hold of your hand and pulled you into the crowd, seemingly forgetting about his friends the second you arrived.

All that mattered to him was that you were here, in front of him, and he wasn’t going to let anything keep him away from you again.

“Sorry princess, my favourite song is playing and I need to dance,” you laughed in his face in disbelief. He mirrored the smile that you had.

Happiness looks good on you, he thought.

You were swept up in the whirlwind of the night, lost in a haze of laughter and music and stolen glances. But even as you danced with Jake all night, you couldn't shake this odd feeling that beneath the surface, there was something darker lurking, waiting to pull you under.

But for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. After all, tonight was about forgetting, about losing yourself in the chaos of the night and pretending, if only for a little while, that everything was okay, that this is your new normal.

adie yaps : sooooo do u guys like this lol … im lowk proud of it i’m kinda liking now it’s turning out so far but rereading some of this is making me 😵‍💫 bc i hate how i worded so much of it but idk how to make it better so Uhhhh im just gonna hope it gets better with time and not touch this until i feel motivation for it bc Lord i wanna write this story so baddd ..

⋅ GENRES: older brother’s best friend & summer romance; angst, fluff & smut

⋅ PAIRING: older brother’s best friend!Jaeyun x fem!reader

⋅ WORD COUNT: 35.7K

⋅ WARNINGS: implied age gap; mentions of a minor character’s death; mentions of alcohol and drugs; virginity loss; unprotected sex multiple times (three); a lot of art references as Jaeyun majored in Fine Arts, and i am not saying that there’s a scene where he paints the reader naked, but i am; body worship at some point; also biker!Jaeyun; and he calls the reader baby (valid warnings, in my opinion)

                  TRACK 04 OF TAKE MY HAND

Sim Jaeyun wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.

It’s not as if there was a written rule. No ink on paper or statement made it factual, but there was an understanding that his best friend’s little sister wasn’t someone he was supposed to fall in love with.

Yet, he did. And God — it had been a hell of a ride.

Phone calls from Park Jongseong never had been a good sign for Jake.

Jongseong hated phones, and in special — to make calls. Throughout the years of their friendship, the option had only been initiated by him as the last resort in the midst of the last resort; the keypad of their old dormitory breaking and leaving him out; his car running out of gasoline in the middle of the night; a forgotten file that supposedly could save Jongseong from failing his last law semester and made Jake run through half of the university campus on a winter morning to deliver it to him — and that was the problem of Jake receiving so few phone calls from his best friend. It doesn’t matter if he felt his shoulders stiffening as soon as he saw Jongseong’s name shining on his phone screen. Jake knew he needed to pick up.

It was almost noon when Jongseong called that day, the small shop busier in a way that only happened with the beginning of summer — the vacation season bringing an influx of tourists to Jeju and suddenly making everything a tiny bit more cluttered.

“Here’s the thing,” Jongseong said at the other end of the line. It was such a classic Jongseong way to start a conversation. Dramatic, and with a hint of urgency that Jake knew all too well. “I need a favor.”

“Good afternoon for you too. I am awesome, thank you. How about you?” Jake asked, making Jongseong huff at the other end of the line.

“I am serious,” he said. “Baby is giving me a headache and I need your help.”

“Your sister?” Jake demanded, his voice coming higher than he indeed and catching a few customers’ attention. Jake had never met you, not really. Everything he knew about you had been through these tiny pieces Jongseong gave through conversations, and although he knew you had given your older brother a few hard moments as you always seemed to reach for him first whenever you had a problem, Jake couldn’t imagine how he would ever be directly involved.

He turned around, his eyes focusing on the other side of the beveled glass. The sun fell warm and bright on the town and a myriad of bees hummed at the bushes on the other side of the street, the small insects enjoying the pinky-white blossoms that seemed to be disappearing as the summer kept settling on the island. Down the street, Mrs. Choi was also enjoying the beginning of the summer, leaning on the window of her bakery and screaming at Euntaek — her troublemaker grandson whom people there only cared to call Mrs. Choi’s grandson with a sigh.

“She has been trying this scholarship in the United States ever since she graduated high school, and now that she got it, out of nowhere, she decided to spend summer in Jeju — alone. I want you to be her emergency call,” Jongseong explained, catching Jake’s attention once again. “You are still living there, right? In your grandfather’s old house? Taking care of his pottery shop?”

It was a too practical way to describe the fact that Jake had run away to it — taking it as an inheritance when no one else wanted it, but Jake hummed in agreement.

“But Seogwipo is in the extreme south of the island, depending on the area she-“

“I know. It’s just in any emergency case, it would take several hours for any of us to arrive at the island.”

“Fine,” Jake conquered. “But why — why did she choose Jeju?”

Honestly, there was no reason for you to choose Jeju aside from your desire to leave Korea’s mainland. You had thought of Japan at first, the neighboring country being not even one hour and a half away by plane, but you didn’t know anything of its language aside from the small vocabulary you acquired by too many hours watching Ghibli animations and three months there seemed more stressful than having to deal with the whole expectation your parents’ had been putting on your upcoming university life in the United States. But then, someday you scrolled through a vacation website, and Jeju shone for you. It took fifteen minutes to convince your parents — an additional five to annoy your brother, but on the first day of summer, you took a flight to the Korean island and established yourself in a nice apartment downtown.

Yet, you had to admit, being alone wasn’t all the fun, especially with a landlord who seemed to prefer spending all his hours checking the security cameras rather than fixing your broken sink and had screamed at you for appearing with a stray kitten in the midst of a summer storm — a black furry thing that didn’t even have twenty centimeters but seemed to bother him as a lynx would. The nights were never quiet there and the city hardly slept, but instead of the soothing comfort you expect to find in it, you lay awake in your bed wondering if you had done something wrong. So when the landlord argued that the cat left or you left, you had no second thought before packing your belongings, and putting the cat in the pet carrier you had bought just a few hours prior almost as an omen.

You were too shrinking to call your parents for help not even two weeks into your supposedly independent vacation — too proud to give Jongseong the proof you weren’t ready to be on your own, so you put Sim Jaeyun’s address on the maps app and took the next bus to the small town where he resided, watching as the buildings disappeared and the fields of green tea turned boundlessly beneath the summer sun.

It took you exactly one hour and seven minutes to arrive at Seogwipo. With no transfers or changes, the bus stopped just a few streets away from Jake’s address — a pretty road running along the South Sea that made it easy to stroll along the sidewalk, nothing but the sound of your luggage against the pavement, and the waves, softly crashing against the stones. The busiest part of Jeju had been left by the downtown, tidy streets giving way to open roads and suddenly the hustling cities were part of another world — another reality. Even the skies seemed to acquire a new shade here.

There wasn’t much through the path, a convenience store, a library, a tiny bakery where an old lady sat by its door-

“Do you need help?” she asked. Her accent was strong, pure Jeju dialect which made you blink at her, taking a moment too long to make sense of what she had just said. You didn’t need help, honestly, your phone’s map seemed to be working just fine, but you felt bad about sounding impolite — especially in a place like Seogwipo seemed to be, so you smiled at her, immediately receiving the gesture back.

“I am searching for my brother’s friend’s house,” you said. “He supposedly lives in this street.”

“Tell me his name, I know everyone here.”

“Jaeyun — Sim Jaeyun.”

“Oh! Jake!” she exclaimed. “Yes, he lives straight ahead. I can ask my grandson to take you there.”

“No, it’s alright,” you broke in. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“It’s not a long walk, but you are with a luggage and-”she paused, availing the pet carrier in your hands. “A cat?”

You looked at it too, catching the idea of an ear but before you could answer, she was already leaning inside the bakery, filling her lungs and shouting. “Euntaek!”

Euntaek appeared at the door, and if the old lady hadn’t told you he was her grandson it would have been impossible for you to notice their connection by yourself. They were the opposite in every way — where she was short and plump, he was tall and lanky with a mess of dark hair being bathed in the late afternoon sun.

He stopped in the midst of a complaint, his mouth suddenly curling in a smirk when he caught the sight of you. His gaze trailed your fluttering white silk sundress, following it all the way to your tights and then back to your face.

“This is Euntaek,” she said as he stepped closer. “My grandson. He is always here over the summer, so if you need anything don’t hesitate to come to us and ask.”

“Just Taek,” he mended, leaning to your side. He smelled like autumn — a musky perfume that Jongseong would have advised him to keep to the cold seasons, all together with a faint scent of tobacco. And you didn’t need to guess what was in the box on the front pocket of his t-shirt.

“Stop playing around and take her to Jake’s shop,” the old lady demanded. He straightened himself at her words, looking ahead at the street as if he was suddenly confused, but he didn’t retort — didn’t reply, when he looked back at you he was smirking again as if he was satisfied with the situation.

“Give me your luggage,” he said. And you obeyed, partly because you thought it would be good for him to have something to put his attention aside from your presence and partly because you were starting to feel tired.

Euntaek guided you through the street as the sun kept going down, your shadow stretching out so long that its edges were already blurring with the approaching night.

“Are you staying the whole summer?” he asked, out of the silence.

“No, I-” you paused. Being completely honest, you hadn’t thought of what would happen after speaking with your brother’s best friend. “I don’t know — probably not.”

“Well, it’s a good idea. You should stay in the city areas, nothing really happens on this side of the island.”

“It seems pretty nice to me,” you admitted.

Euntaek lifted a brow at you, his flirtatious attitude finally eclipsed by something else. “Where are you from?”

“Seoul.”

“Ah, a girl from the city-city,” he said. “I could hear it from your accent, but I guess it makes sense for you to like this end of the world then.”

You didn’t reply this time.

“We are here,” he announced. Just like the rest of the street, Jake’s shop was a single-story construction. White walls and a beveled glass framed by bare woods, just as most Korean houses had been built in the fourteenth century during the Joseon dynasty.

“Give me your phone,” Euntaek said.

“My phone?” you asked, looking at the device still unlocked in your hands. His phrase came with no question marks, no rapport, and you wondered if the was always like this — throwing demands that should have been questions.

“Yes,” he smirked. “In case you need something — Jake doesn’t have a car, he is always taking the old Beomseok’s pickup but I-” The ramble kept going on, but as you extended your phone at him, you had already turned back to the shop. You had once heard Jongseong telling your parents that Jaeyun had moved to Jeju to take care of his departed grandfather’s shop, being the only one who took an interest in the old man’s business. Your brother had even come to help at the beginning of everything, but you never had considered asking him what the shop was about, and now you wished you had so you wouldn’t be so surprised as you caught sight of the dozen pottery pieces — from small mugs to bowls and enormous flower pots, all glazed in the modest earthy tones of Jeju; green, blue, purple, and brown filling the wooden shelves at the fairest end of the room. Down the middle of the shop, there was a long table, and some pottery wheels, their sheer number indicating he not only did it but taught.

The shop was fairly empty, saved from a couple studying the row of mugs, and Jaeyun — standing with his back to the beveled glass.

Euntaek handed your phone back, and you pulled it inside of your purse without even looking at him.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said.

“Anything you need just give me a sign.”

“Sure,” you said, already taking the handle of your luggage and stepping away.

A fluttering of crystal and bells clanked against the door as you pushed it, allowing the summer breeze to rush over the place, the earthy and pond-mud smell of clay taking over your senses as Jaeyun turned to you, a polite smile playing on his lips.

Until now, you had never seen your brother’s best friend — not that you haven’t tried, but his only social media seemed to be Instagram and the absence of posts left you nothing but the group pictures your brother showed you once in a while, blurry things that had been taken on drunk states or taken so distant you couldn’t really tell what he looked like aside from the idea of his sun-kissed skin and his dark hair always curled and always growing past his ears — boyish as he seemed pretty, you remembered once thinking, but up close with the golden light of the sunset bathing over him, you noticed he was utterly staggering and you became uncomfortably aware of the sun touching your face, turning your cheeks warmer and warmer beneath his gaze.

“Jaeyun?” you tried.

“Jake,” he corrected. “Whenever I hear Jaeyun, I feel like I need to look back to check if my father isn’t here.”

You had already spoken his English name in conversations with your brother, rolled through the letters of it absently far enough times to be familiar with it, but there was something different on it now that you could put a face on it. The name fitted him, young and beautiful, cheerful and bright. You couldn’t help but hold the shape of his name in your mouth, try it on your tongue with its new taste and he tilted his head to the side, carefully studying you.

“Would you be Jongseong’s little sister?”

“Yes, I-” you exhaled. “I — Would you have a spare room?”

┈

It took Jake fifteen minutes to finish his talk with the couple and turn his full attention back to you, leaning on the cashier top as you rambled about the apartment downtown, the summer storm, and the kitten — even pulling the animal out of the pet carrier as an appeal, and then, finally, you rambled about the landlord demanding you to put it back into the streets and how you simply could not so you left only with half of the amount your parents spent on the apartment downtown.

You hadn’t really thought about it, but the words kept coming hurried and messed up, a single stream of phrases being pushed out of you, and you told him you were going to find a place somewhere, you just needed time — and a room for a few nights.

“So let me see if I understood,” Jake said. “You came to Jeju to spend the summer, got a nice place downtown but because of this kitten,” he stopped then, theatrically pointing at the animal in your hands. “You got kicked out without getting your full deposit back and you don’t want to call your parents asking them to help you find a new place nor simply want to go back home?”

“Yes, that’s — that’s exactly what happened.” You felt small when the words reached back at you — your whole world becoming so small and silly, and you braced yourself for Jake’s judgment, but he did not. He tilted his head once again, thumping his fingers unrhythmically against the cashier’s top and you weren’t certain if this was because he was considering your situation or because it was simply quite a lot to take in just a few minutes. But he sighed then, a soft gust of air passing through his lips.

“You can’t come here with a kitten,” he said. “It’s obvious that I would say yes.”

You must not have truly expected Jake to agree, because the surprise you felt when you heard his reply stunned you to silence, and in the stillness that followed, you finally noticed how fast your heart was beating. It hummed against your ears so loudly — you had been terrified now that you could think about it.

“For real?” you asked then.

“Of course,” he said. “I will just close the shop and I will show you the house.”

You followed Jake back into the street, not knowing what else to do aside from standing there — watching as he closed the door, playing with the key and locking it. Outside, the night was slowly setting in, moonless and warm.

“Is it a girl or a boy?” he asked.

“What?”

“The cat.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “It’s a boy.”

“And have you named it?”

“Not yet. I am not even sure if I can keep him, I am leaving Jeju by the end of summer so I thought of finding a nice home for him here,” you blurted out, focusing on the small furry thing in your hands and when you looked at Jake again, he had already approached you. He was as tall as Jongseong, but differently from your brother he didn’t bottle you in the shadows and made a shiver settle on your spine. Instead, Jake was comfortably tall. He smelled like summer afternoons, like orange blossoms and that earthy scent that remitted the pottery pieces displayed on his shelves. “But I guess it should be correct to at least give him a temporary name, right?”

“Jeonchae,” he said. “I always wanted to have a pet with this name.”

“Jeonchae is it then,” you replied, and Jake smiled again, this time something beyond his polite lightness and you felt your heart keening, he had those types of smiles that took over an entire face. You couldn’t even react as he took the handle of your luggage from your hand, guiding you to a side path, countering the shop, and stepping into the back garden — or the front garden. It depended on where you were coming fro. His house stood on the other side of it, the design a perfect extension of the shop.

As Jake opened the front door and slipped in, you looked past him and into the hall. At first sight, the inside of Jake’s house was as plain as the outside. The same wooden frames and white walls you suspected he didn’t mind painting after he had inherited it, but as you walked inside, toeing out of your shoes, you noticed that the greatest of the place didn’t lay on the structure itself, but on the things. Nothing in the living room matched — not the green racks or the maroon couch. The shelves on the far wall were cluttered with books stacked between pieces of pottery and crafted figurines. The last afternoon light spilled through an open window, illuminating the room all together with the yellow lamps and everything was chaotic, bright, and unabashedly joyous.

And you were surprised to notice, you loved it.

Your family’s house was minimalist, bare even, everything almost planned to not indicate any of your personalities and you wondered how it would feel to have a place that showed exactly who you were inside.

“Nothing is exactly knew, but-”

“It is lovely,” you said.

“Kitchen’s over there,” he continued, pointing at the end of the room as if the open floor plan didn’t let it clear where everything was.

“This is my room,” he said, moving his attention to the first door in a row of three. You couldn’t even get a glimpse of the inside before he continued on, scrolling your luggage through the hardwood floor. “The door on the end far end is the bathroom and the laundry, seems a bit cluttered, but well, it is an old house — and here,”

“Can be your room,” he finished, gesturing for you to go in first. You did so, finally letting go of Jeonchae and allowing the kitten to hover over the room.

A bed lay in the center, only with the mattress. And although the windows had been flung wide open, showing the perfect view of the garden, a faint smell of glaze and paint remained in the room, something you couldn’t tell if it came from the pots of paint organized on the shelves, or the pottery pieces themselves — drying at the window frame.

“It was my grandparents’ room,” Jake clarified. “Now I just use it as-”

“A paint room,” you completed. “Is it ok if I look?”

“Yeah, I mean- yeah,” he whispered, rushing his fingers through his hair.

You crouched in front of the pieces, staying eye level with them. Jake had painted a few with the same earthy tones you had seen at his shop, but others he had drawn on it, gorgeous mixes of colors and styles. There were hills in the traditional Korean art style, and flowers in a modern — almost silly way. You could stay there, studying these pieces for hours and catching a different detail every time. But as you turned to say something to Jake, you caught the sight of a canvas leaning against the wall, a three-dimensional painting, with mountains coming out of the plain canvas that took your words away. Different from everything else it barely had colors. A mix of black and white and you could feel it, the struggle and the loneliness on the canvas. Your fingers tickled as if you wanted to reach for it — brush your fingers as if to tender the pain, but you forced yourself to remain still.

“My final project from my first university semester,” he said.

“It’s beautiful,” you said. “How have you done it?”

“Lots of baking soda — Jay was so annoyed by the mess I made in our shared room.”

“My brother is a naturally annoyed person,” you said, immediately coaxing a snort of laughter out of him, the sound so silly, yet vivid that you didn’t notice a smile was rising to your lips in response until it was already there.

“Now you said the truth,” he said.

“Well, I will leave you to settle yourself,” he continued. “The wardrobe is empty, aside from a few bed sheets, I think. You can use anything here, and if the paint and pottery bother you, just put it out, I can sort it anywhere else.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “Honestly, thank you so much.”

“I would ask you what you want for dinner, but my acknowledgment as a cooker is very little, and there are no take-outs nearby so-”

“Could I help?”

“Don’t worry, Jeonchae is going to help me,” he said, slightly lending himself so he could reach for the kitten, scratching the back of his ears, and eliciting a low rumble of happiness.

“Aren’t you, buddy?”

You were surprised to see the kitten, in fact, followed Jake out of the room and through the house, rushing through the kitchen not only as if he knew the place, but as if he was already part of it.

┈

You weren’t sure how long you were going to stay at Jake’s house, so you decided to not unpack everything, making settling yourself into his spare room a quick task and by the time you stepped out to the common area, he was just taking the pan out of the six-burner stove and putting it on the table.

You almost laughed when you noticed his very little acknowledgment in the kitchen meant lamen and a bunch of leftover side dishes for the night, the takeout pots affirming nothing was made by him. There was something endearing about Jake’s clumsy maneuvering around the kitchen, a certain charm in his earnest attempt, but you couldn’t help but worry if his dinners always had been like this — you were a Park at the end of the day, meals not only being important healthy, but as a manner of caring for yourself and others, so you stopped yourself, trying your best to not show your worry when he caught sight of you.

“I hope you didn’t have high expectations,” he said then, his eyes meeting yours. “It’s nothing like your mother’s or your brother’s — but it’ll fill you up.”

“I wouldn’t expect anyone to be like them,” you said. “Only high chefs love the kitchen as much as them.”

His eyes softened as he gestured for you to join him at the table.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he admitted, passing you one of the bowls. You weren’t surprised to notice it was handmade, irregular and pottery-crafted. You curled your fingers around the piece, relishing the coldness against your skin.

“Are your dinners always like this?” you asked. Jake looked at you at the other side of the table then, taking in how you hadn’t moved yet, and retrieved the bowl from you, ladling a heaping portion of lamen and placing it in front of you.

“You mean extremely unprepared and unhealthy?” he asked, and you gasped. You didn’t mean to offend him, but because you couldn’t find better words to describe it, you remained silent. “Most of the time, but once in a while Mrs. Choi brings me something, once in a while I simply do not eat, so we can say it’s not an every night thing.”

There was a pause, a skimpy moment full of awkwardness. But then, Jeonchae leaped at the dining table, immediately stealing a laugh from Jake. He spared a piece of meat to the kitten, quickly making the apology dice on your tongue, and just like that, the spell was broken.

“Jake,” you called. “What about I take care of dinner while I am here?”

“Oh no, she is surely a Park,” he teased, but he nodded at you, barely giving himself the time to think between a second and another, and making you suck your breath back.

"Really?" you asked. "I mean, I’m not like my mother or Jay as well-”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be like them,” he said, and that was it. It had been just your words in his mouth, but you couldn’t help but feel something very warm growing inside of you. It was the very first time you genuinely thought someone who knew your family, didn’t expect you to be like them. “But I would need to take you to the market tomorrow, I doubt there’s something usable in this kitchen.”

┈

You woke up to the street light spreading through the darkness of your room and a soft series of curses. At first, you couldn’t remember where you were. The scent of glaze and paint took you with a strange closeness, but then you remembered the discussion with the landlord, putting the kitten in a carrier, and taking the bus to Seogwipo to meet Jake — Jake.

You slide out of the bed, padding barefoot to the window, and opening it in time to catch your brother’s best friend adjusting the ladder closer to the house’s wall and taking the first step up to it.

“What are you doing?” you asked because Jake wasn’t possibly going up to the roof late at night although everything indicated it was exactly what he was doing.

Jake turned to you as fast as a complicated smile took over his features.

“Sorry, I woke you up,” he said, the certainty that he had been the one to wake you up stealing the question mark of his phrase and so you didn’t reply.

“Are you afraid of heights?” he asked then.

“A bit, yes.”

“Do you trust me?”

┈

There were stars, and there were stars at Seogwipo.

Some nights, back at home, you had lingered on your bedroom’s window, trying to catch at least a spare star above the city lights without much success, but as you sat by Jake’s side at the uneven tiles of his roof, and craned your neck to the vastness of the sky, you couldn’t help but sigh at the view, an appreciation sound that came from your bare heart. At Jeju there were never enough streetlights to obliterate the stars completely — you could always get a glimpse of them without much search, but at Seogwipo — so far from anything else, the stars created streams of silver and purple against the dark sky.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“Was it what you expected?” Jake asked. “When you decided to come to Jeju.”

“I don’t think I had any expectations. Honestly, I barely considered it before I decided to come to Jeju. It was there and suddenly it seemed like a great option so I took it,” you said. “It’s just — are you the youngest in your family?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed at your question, as if he was suddenly confused, and in the heat of the moment, you continued. “I am not blaming Jay or my family, it’s not like this. But there is something about being the youngest child no one speaks about,”

“When you are the youngest, you live in the shadows of either their failures or their successes. It wasn’t my dream to go to the United States to study — it was my father’s. He couldn’t do it back at his time, so he tried to make Jay do it for him, but when Jay failed due to his grades, I became the next in line, and I have been living my whole life like this — trying to fulfill everything they want to not be the letdown of my family. When I passed the university interview, got the visa and everything, they started talking about their expectations and it made me realize that I have never lived a single day to myself, so I wanted to try — at least this summer before I go to the United States to live a life I never dreamed about.”

When you finished, Jake had been silent for so long that you thought he had zoned out — leaving you to talk to the vastness of the place. But you looked at him then, and he was there — with the same careful stare he had turned on you this afternoon, and making your cheeks grow warmer. It wasn’t like Jake was a stranger, he wasn’t, not really. You had co-existed on each other’s worlds for so long that it was almost peculiar to think you had met just a few hours previously. Yet still — you were not sure why you decided to tell him about your life like this. But you were hundreds of kilometers away from home, and it was summer, the season when people do things they would never think of. It was late at night, the world so still that it felt safe to let secrets be spilled in the wind, and Jake — he felt safe too.

“I do have an older brother too,” Jake admitted. “He has studied medicine in Australia and people love to praise him or say something like it must be hard for Jaeyun to have an older brother like you.”

A breath shuddered out of you with the harshness of his words, and his mouth screwed on something between a smile and a frown, his own history setting heavy on him, and making him pause, his gaze drifting downward. Jake watched as his fingers moved on his lap as if he was trying to sort his thoughts, and that was the moment you noticed whatever he was about to tell you was something he had been keeping for himself for years.

“It’s just like you said, I do not blame my family,” he started, the words leaving his lips a bit clumsy and strangely by the unused of being said. “But because my parents are doctors and my brother always knew he was going to follow their path, I grew up thinking I was the letdown of my family.”

“My grandfather, otherwise,” Jake continued. “He was an artist — not a very successful one as you can see from the house or by the fact that you probably never heard of him, but he loved it,”

“I used to come here every summer during my childhood, and whenever I saw him doing pottery — whenever I saw the happiness in him, I knew it was what I wanted to do too, but still, I was afraid I would disappoint my parents so I tried to followed their path and study medicine. I got into a university and went to the United States.” Jake had a dull tone, but it was almost like his canvas in your room — you could feel the pain in each syllable. “My grandfather died when I was there.”

You knew Jake’s grandfather had died — had picked the information in the echo of your brother’s conversation with your mother, but you never knew what the man had meant to Jake, and perhaps that was what made your heart keen as if you had just discovered his passing.

You reached out to Jake, placing your hand gently on top of his. It hadn’t dawned on you how intimate the gesture was until you felt Jake moving beneath your touch, but before you could pull away he had already turned his palm into yours, squeezing you, lightly, and reassuring.

“It’s alright. It has been five years already,” he said. “Somehow I already got to peace with this. But on his last phone call, he asked if I was happy — if I was doing what I wanted to,” he said. “And it stuck on me, you know? I wasn’t — so I came home for his funeral and decided I wasn’t going back to the States. I got into a university in Seoul, and well, I think you know the rest of the story. I graduated in Fine Arts like I always wanted, and came here to take care of his things.”

“I won’t lie and tell you it was easy — it wasn’t. When I told my parents what my plans were, my father asked me if I wanted to be poor like my grandpa. But what I am trying to say is that I understand you,” Jake said. “If you want to stay here during the whole summer to give yourself time, it’s alright with me — just be sure to live for yourself because there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Make a list of things you have never done and want to do. I don’t know. Just enjoy your time here.”

A breeze picked up in the following silence, the halted air suddenly stirring and shuddering the bushes on the other side of the street. Seogwipo was so silent at this hour that you could hear the soft rustling sound as they moved.

“You sound wiser than my brother,” you whispered. “Maybe I should start talking to you instead.”

“Well, you know where to find me,” he whispered back, leaning to your side. He was just a bit too close, his scent taking over you all together with the summer breezes. And he might have noticed it too because he drew a bit back, rushing his fingers through his hair as his gaze focused on the skyline once again. You did the same.

“But it can be a dangerous thing — to get me,” you replied. “I can become really dependent.”

Jake opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it had been was forgotten once he had turned to you. Although the world had turned dim with the night, whatever remnant light now raced towards you — the rose and gold of the stars and street lights softly painting your skin. And when you looked back at him, Jake finally understood what a professor once had said, beauty was rarely soft or consolatory, it was quite alarming. He could feel his pulse jumping at his neck, the bare image of you stirring something inside of him.

“Should we go down?” Jake asked then. “I have to take you to the market before I open the shop and I don’t even know what time it is.”

But he was already slipping through the roof tiles, taking the first step down the ladder before you had even replied.

You carefully followed him, edging your way onto the roof, but the moment you looked down, you felt your heart contracting, shivers scattering through the line of your spine.

“Jake?” you called, your voice sounding quieter than you intended to.

“Yeah?”

“Remember when I said I was a bit afraid of heights?” you asked, but he didn’t reply, his eyebrows furrowing as he peered at you. “I don’t mind being in a high place, but I can’t know how high it is.”

“You can’t look down?”

“It makes me vertiginous,” you admitted.

“Alright,” Jake said. “Let’s do it like this — can you sit on the edge of the roof and put your feet on the ladder?”

You nodded, heart thumping in your chest as you carefully shifted your weight and did as he said, finding the first step of the ladder with the sole of your shoes. Either the night had turned colder or your senses had turned very accurately due to nervousness, you felt Jake retreating the few steps he had taken down, and lingering closer to you, his whole body as warm as he sounded when he finally spoke again.

“Give me your hands,” he asked. “You can keep your eyes straight at the horizon or close them, I got you — Just don’t look down.”

You extended your hands at him, and he took it, his fingers curling around yours as he guided you down.

“Isn’t it dangerous for you?” you asked suddenly, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes and check how he was doing it.

“Just a few more steps, baby,” he said, immediately making both of you stop, the endearing word whistling through the space between both of you. It’s not like you thought he meant it to be endearing. Your whole family called you baby, from your grandparents to your parents and brother — and even their friends. Probably whenever Jake had heard someone speaking about you the word simply came by, but hearing it in his voice felt different, a flush of warmth creeping up to your cheeks.

“I am sorry,” he hushed.

“It’s alright,” you said. “I guess Jay called me baby too much around you.”

“Yes,” he said, the confirmation coming as a tight exhale. “It happened so commonly that when he first said your name I had to ask who he was talking about and he managed to feel offended.”

You laughed at it, softly, and his mouth quivered in response.

“Just a few more steps,” he repeated then. And with the help of Jake’s steady guidance, you managed to make it down from the roof.

Jeonchae was already waiting at the door. You tried to not feel offended when the kitten once again chose Jake, following him through the house and only stopping when Jake did too.

“Good night, baby,” Jake said, reaching for his door’s knob. He seemed to want to say something more, but stopped himself, slightly shaking his head before he slipped into his room.

He wasn’t quite certain what came first — the thought of it being natural or the feeling of it being natural. But when he lay himself onto his bed, quickly being followed by Jeonchae, he couldn’t remember how his nights had been any other way.

You woke up to the soft hustle of dishes echoing, drawers opening and shutting before finally the smell of toast browning and eggs hitting a hot skillet reached you.

Morning light flooded through the opened windows of the bedroom, the brightness of it catching you unguarded and making you blink a few times before you managed to roll through the bed, trying to catch what Jake was doing, but the gap in the door was small, a bare sliver that all you could see was his head tilted to the stove in concentration and his shoulders moving, the thin material almost giving you the outline of everything — you abruptly stood up, padding barefoot to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said, promptly extending you a mug. You wrapped your hands around the steaming cup, inhaling the bittersweet scent of coffee and vanilla.

“So you aren’t very fond of cooking dinner, but like breakfast?” you asked.

“I guess we all have one favorite meal.”

“Well, that makes sense,” you agreed. “But if I prefer baking what does it makes me?”

“A tea-time person, definitely,” he said. “Maybe you should meet Mrs. Choi, she has a bakery down the street-”

“An old lady? Not even one meter and a half? Gray hair and a really fierce accent?”

“I see that you already have met her.”

“She was sitting by her bakery door when I arrived,” you said. “Asked if I needed help, and made her grandson walk me here.”

“She made Euntaek walk you through one hundred and something meters?”

“Very fiercely, actually, but perhaps it was just her accent,” you admitted, quickly stealing a smile from him. It had been so quick — if your heart hadn’t keened to the sight of it you would think it had been an imagined moment.

“I thought about going to the market after breakfast,” he said. “Get the things you need, I genuinely only have eggs, three packs of lamen, and bread.”

“Well, you at least have something aside from lamen.”

“Don’t get too proud. Beomseok — a grandpa who lives at the end of the street sells eggs, and the bread is from Mrs. Choi’s bakery-”

“I am surely not proud,” you said, but despite the harsh choice of words, they carried no venom and Jake allowed himself to playfully pout at you. There was something adorable about his expression — almost puppyish, and you had to control yourself to not reach for him, ruffling your fingers through his locks and discovering if they were as soft as they looked.

“Don’t be so mean to me.”

┈

Euntaek had told you — more like warned you about the absence of a car in the midst of Jake’s possessions, always having to ask for the old Beomseok’s pickup. So when Jake told you he was going to wait outside, you had expected to step out to the view of a pickup — although you didn’t know what Beomseok looked like, much less his pickup. Or Jake simply standing there ready to walk you to the market, but not for a single second, you had expected to see him leaning on a motorcycle cruiser with two helmets in his hands.

The thing shone beneath the summer sun, all black, metallic, and nothing like Jake.

You had this odd conviction that often people matched their vehicles. Jongseong’s black Mercedes was made for him, just like your mother’s silver Audi was made for her, but where Jake was soft his motorcycle was hazardous. And you weren’t sure if it was conflicting or if you had just encountered a new side of him.

“No,” you said.

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, his hand halting in the middle of the motion of extending you one of the helmets.

“Can’t we go walking or something?” you asked.

“Why?” he asked back.

“Jay also has a motorcycle license, and mom made me promise I wouldn’t ride with him.”

“You promise you wouldn’t ride with Jay — I am not Jay,” he said, which was silly, and he knew it, but you seemed to think it was funny, and it very much felt like a victory. “C’mon, it’s safe.”

“As life?” you asked.

Jake was trying to look unamused, but it was clear by the way the corners of his mouth twisted that he was fighting a smile as he looked through the street, taking in the path you had already walked. He watched the whole path from Mrs. Choi’s tiny bakery to his own shop before he moved ahead, the shops and houses you still didn’t know as if he was looking for something.

Bees hummed over by the bushes at the other side of the street.

It was so impossibly summer.

“Let’s do it like this: you are scratching the first thing on the list of things you have never done before,” Jake said, hurling a leg over the motorcycle. “Beomseok’s pickup isn’t here, so he is probably using it. Next time we go to the market I promise you we will ask for his pickup, but for today it’s our only option.”

“C’mon, baby. I got you,” he said, tentatively extending you the helmet once again. And there it was. Baby. The word being familiar and unknown. Soft and overwhelming. It shaped through Jake’s mouth as easily as it did on the night previously. And perhaps because of the lack of surprise, perhaps because of the new insight the daylight brought, but you finally got it. Jake didn’t call you with the fondness your parents did, nor with fierce overprotection Jongseong did. He took your nickname and made it all his. Teasingly as it was overprotective, careful as it was wild. And you felt something moving inside of you.

You stepped forward, taking the helmet and hurling your leg at the motorcycle by the time a breath should be taken.

Jake put on his helmet too, looking over his shoulder. He was ready to say something to you, but whatever it had been, slid and slipped as he felt you resting your head at his back, the side of your helmet pressed against his jacket as your hands slipped through his waist, finding the shirt beneath his denim and twisting the thin material of it until your knuckles turned white. Jake spread his palms above yours, warm and reassuring, summer always stuck in his skin.

“I got you,” he repeated, a little more breathless. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And then, there was just the air past your ears, the roam of the motorcycle and Jake.

┈

Jake’s neighborhood had only one market.

It was a small and unassuming building tucked away on a noncommercial street. The owner even seemed to live by the second floor as a few clothes hung on a line by the terrace, the white pieces fluttering against the blue sky and spreading a scent of flowery softening through the morning breeze. There was no parking lot, the door opened right on the sidewalk — not that it seemed to be necessary. The establishment was completely empty aside from the cashier, a girl not much younger than you and with such a bored expression that gave you the assurance that she certainly wasn’t spending her summer morning there by option.

She didn’t even stray her attention from her phone as you both stepped in, the faint din of the latest summer hit coming from her earphones being the only sound mixing with the whir of the freezers.

Jake promptly took the shopping cart at the side of the doors. And there was something so domestic about the whole thing — so intimate on the way he pushed the shopping cart around the aisles, you by his side, elbows brushing, and hands tucking on each other whenever you wanted to stop because it was easier like this. It made your chest ache and suddenly it felt unkind to think of Jake just as your brother’s best friend — all the acknowledgment of him being given by a third part, so you started an ask game. It was simple, this or that questions that weren’t even that deep, but Jake tilted his head to appraise you, taking his time to think about it every time. And when he started to ask them back, you smiled at him, cheeks a bit warmer because it was less that he was just being polite and more like he wanted to know you too.

You turned to the final aisle, being greeted by a dozen candies and snacks, boxes and packages in an aggressive assembly of colors and almost mockingly being in their majority from America.

“Jake?” you called. “Where — where did you live when you went to the United States?”

“Ventura,” he said.

“California?” you asked, and he nodded at you. “What was it like?”

“Similar to Jeju, actually, greenish hills, and blue seas. There aren’t many high buildings, and everything had been painted in white as if there is some type of regulation,” he told you. “Yet it never felt like home. I was so lonely there, sometimes I think that city broke my heart.”

“I am sorry that it has been like this for you.”

“But you know?” he continued. “If someday you feel like going there, I know my way — if you want company.”

“I would love to,” you replied. Jake held your gaze — just for a moment longer, yet it made something inside of you unfurl, and you nearly caught yourself saying something more.

“What are you going to study? In the United States?” he asked then.

“Law,” you said. Jake blinked at you before he decided to move his attention to the shelves, his fingers fumbling through the cereal boxes with a concentration too unpretentious to be unpretentious.

“Is there something else you would want to study? Aside from law?” he asked then. It could have been just a simple question, no different from all the others you had been making and answering. But perhaps because of how he asked it, it very much felt as if Jake had already divined all the nuances of your whole being.

If you were to tell the history of your family, law school was so entangled in it that it was impossible to not mention it. Your father’s mother had been a judge, a rare gem as your own grandfather used to say — although you weren’t sure if it was because she managed to get such a high position in a field women were so rarely seen back in their time, or something else. Your father’s father had a mind of his own, so ingeniously crafted that his university refused to let him go, and made him a teacher where eventually, your father came to study and met your mother, the daughter of two counselors.

Family gatherings had always brought Legal Language — even when it wasn’t necessary to. The word abrogate was more used than deny and you knew — to follow their path was the only way to truly blend in. Jake had understood it, perhaps all too easily, and it made your lips part, surprise stunning you for a moment.

“I never stopped to think about it,” you said, already stepping forward.

You tried to pretend you were not so excited when your eyes caught a familiar cookie on the topmost shelf, extending your hand at it without much success. Your fingers have not even skimmed through the package.

“Jake, could you-” you started, but he was already there, easily ending the few steps you had created within. One of his hands rested on your waist as the other reached for the packages for you.

“How many?” he asked. His voice threaded through your hair, and all of sudden your body became extremely aware of his proximity. Jake was all around you — all inside of you, when you breathed in, everything that came into your lungs was the scent of summer, that odd mix of orange and earth that Jake was.

“Five?”

“What are you going to do with so many cookies?”

“It’s my solace cookies.”

“Solace cookies?” he echoed, and you didn’t even need to look at him to know he was smiling. You had heard it, the soft deed turning his voice warmer.

“And about the list? Have you thought about it?” he asked after a moment. “What you haven’t done yet, but want to.”

“Not yet,” you admitted. But it struck you late on — when you arrived back at his address, catching the sight of the pottery pieces on his shop’s shelves through the beveled glasses.

“Pottery,” you said. Jake stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk, shopping bags still hanging in his hands, but when you glanced over at him, he was beaming. “I never did pottery.”

“This one is easy to scratch,” he said.

┈

“Is it really fine to just not open the shop like this?” you asked. But Jake didn’t reply. Instead, he walked to a drawer you hadn’t noticed the existence until now, taking out an apron and looping it over his neck.

It was nearing midday and Seogwipo was already alive, locals and tourists strolling through the sun-bathed street at the other side of the beveled glasses. You saw a woman peering inside the shop as her little daughter tugged at her dress skirts, but the door was locked, and a small handmade sign informed the shop was closed.

“I am the owner,” he said. You looked back at Jake, tongue rolling on a retort. But he had already walked to you, looping an apron over your neck and making whatever you had thought of saying slip and slide with the weight of thick material on your shoulders. His breath brushed through your cheeks as he leaned on you — warm and sweet smelling, cream and strawberries from the ice cream you had shared while stocking the food as he took the strings of the apron at your back and brought them to your front, clutching them safely.

“It’s not too tight, is it?” he asked.

“No — no, it’s not.”

“Good,” he said, stepping away again.

You sat in front of a pottery wheel, watching as Jake filled a bowl with water and arranged it on a cart, strolling it to your side. Everything there was so carefully designed and considered that you couldn’t help but think about how this shop had been built with love.

“Alright,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

“What would be the easiest?”

“There is no such a thing,” he replied.

“What?”

“As long as you don’t want something that requires a lot of pieces and craving it’s easy.”

“A vase then?” you said. “Very tiny, preferably.”

Jake brought a stool to the other side of the wheel and sat down on it. His knee brushed against yours, a barely there thing that you couldn’t even feel his denim jeans against your bare skin, but maybe because your body was still lingering on the ride back, and the way he had reached for the cookies for you, you felt a flush of warmth rushing to your cheeks, that heat that seemed to be becoming a frequent feeling around Jake.

The fact that he had pretty hands didn’t help with anything — you hadn’t noticed it until then, artsy hands made for masterpieces, and you weren’t really sure if it made it harder or easier to watch as he pounded the clay into a ball and plopped onto the wheel, but when he looked at you, your body felt perilously close to coming undone.

“Ready?”

“I am not sure,” you said.

“Do you know what’s fun about pottery?” he asked. “You can’t mess this up. If you dislike it and feel like you did something wrong, you just pound it back into a ball and start all over again.”

“Don’t stress too much about it,” he continued. “Just enjoy the process.”

“Alright.”

“Wet your hands, and gently cup the clay.”

“Am I supposed to step on the pedal already?”

“Not yet. Cup it first,” he said. “Thumbs in the middle.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, now you step on the pedal.” You did as he said, allowing the wheel to move beneath the clay, twirling between your cupped hands, almost ticklish.

“Alright. Now use your left hand to give it a slight pressure. Your right is more for balance, to keep it upright.”

“It’s starting to get confusing,” you said.

“Like this,” Jake said, gently placing his hands above yours. He folded you over, clay immediately seeping between your fingers with the pressure and smearing Jake’s hands, filling the air with that earthy scent you had already grown used to.

“You are pressing my right hand,” you said. “Isn’t the one for balance?”

“It’s confusing my brain,” he confessed.

“What? Don’t you teach pottery?”

“Yes, but I never put my hands on people’s stuff, I usually just explain.”

“Are you somehow saying I am the worst student you ever had?” you inquired. You weren’t sure if you had intended to be funny, but suddenly, Jake was laughing, the sound rattling you to the core, and you couldn’t help but stop, watching him.

If you thought Jake’s smiles took over his face, when he laughed, it seemed to resonate throughout every line of his body. He tilted his head downward with the vehemence of it, his eyes closing, but not before you noticed how they were shining, glinting specks in his dark eyes.

And God — Jake wasn’t just pretty, but he was the embodiment of summer, warmth and sunshine always stuck on him, and making him glow. When his shoulders fluttered, it made something within your chest move, and you forced yourself to blink, redirecting your focus to the clay.

“Maybe we should stay on the same side?” you asked then.

Jake stood up, taking his stool and swiftly settling it behind you. His chest pressed against your back as he positioned his hand above yours once again, and your heartbeat rumbled so loudly that you almost didn’t realize he was speaking again. “Left hand to give pressure. Right to keep it upright.”

“Is it the time when I tell you that I hate to feel dirty?” you blurted out.

“You hate it?” Jake asked, letting go of you only to brush his fingers on your cheek, quickly smearing it with clay. You gasped at it, lurching up so fast, you almost tripped over the pottery wheel as you turned to look at him, but he only laughed once again, and instead of protesting, you reached for him too, smearing his jaw.

And that was it, the room was taken by laughter and clay.

The vase was destroyed by the amount of times you both had brushed your hands at it, smearing your palms only to clean it on the other one — if it was the right term, handprints being left on its awake. Jake’s arms were already covered when he finally gave it a break, looking at you and offering the precise moment when the idea stocked him. His smile turned a bit wilder, a bit teasing, and before you could truly understand it, he had closed his fist on the vase, sealing the top of it, but handing a good amount of clay.

You reached for his wrist, but as you tried to prevent him from dirtying you even more, you threw both of you out of balance. You hit the floor first and in a heap, the sound of your bodies collapsing on the concrete floor muffling the curse Jake released.

He braced himself above you, his palms spreading just a few centimeters away from your head as he pushed himself up, but he was too close still. When his lips parted, his breath brushed through your cheeks, the same sweet scent from early on, heating your whole body and riddling you in place.

The warmth light of the summer sun had found its way through the beveled glass of the shop, pouring around Jake in a beautiful and dazzling alchemy. Your fingers were clammy with clay, sticky with a grayish mix, but he didn’t mind it when you reached for him, palm splaying through his neck, fingers sliding to where his t-shirt hung loosely around his neck, if anything his skin shivered where you touched it. And when your thumb pressed onto his jaw slightly angling him to you, he released a breath stronger than before, taking you both out of the haze.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked then.

“No,” you whispered.

Jake nodded, very slowly before he stood up, holding his hand to you and helping standing.

“I am sorry,” he said. You weren’t sure what he was asking sorry for, the destroyed vase, the clay fight, for falling on you, or for the way your body was flaming up, every piece of skin burning with the bare memory of him against you. “We can start over.”

You blinked at him, taking a second longer to look at the vase. It had worn shapeless above the wheel, a good part of it lost in the middle of the fight and its top had been destroyed where Jake’s fist had closen on. it surely had no use aside from a very peculiar ornament, but you once had heard about people wanting to retain moments, turning the immaterial memory into something concrete so they could carry it anywhere and that ruined vase was it — doesn’t matter how many years passed, or where you were, whenever you looked at this ruined vase, it would remind you of Jeju, of golden suns and breezes that smelled like earth, and oranges blossoms at the end of afternoons — it would remind you of Jake.

“I like it that way,” you told him. Jake furrowed your eyebrows at you, but he didn’t say anything, taking a string at the table, cutting it off the wheel.

“We have to let it dry before doing anything,” he said. “By tomorrow or after we can fire it-”

“Wait, so people do not take their pieces home?” you asked.

“They do,” he said. “I mean, they receive it at home. I fire it and send it to them later.”

“Out of Jeju?” you asked, and Jake hummed at you, half focused on putting the vase on a wooden tray and taking it to the far end of the shop, letting it rest closer to the sink.

“It was my grandpa’s idea,” he said. “What better trip souvenir than something you did yourself? that’s what he used to say.”

“He seemed like a nice grandfather.”

“He was,” Jake told you. “I just wish he knew I am continuing it — that I didn’t let my father sell this shop.”

“He knows,” you whispered. “I am sure he knows.”

Jake paused, looking back at you. “Come here.”

You stepped closer to him again, and he took your hand, using a wet towel to clean the clay from your fingers, your wrists, his hands hovering through your skin, but not quite touching it.

“Jake,” you called. You weren’t sure if you wanted to say something more, it had just slipped through. And in the midst of your silence, he looked at you with, the same golden eyes and sun-kissed skin.

“Give me another towel,” you asked, and he quickly obeyed, getting another towel and handing it to you.

You took the towel with a hand, and his chin with the other, gently tilting his head to the side as you cleaned his jaw, and then his neck, taking the evidence of your touch from his skin.

“I am sorry. I think I pushed clay into your ears.” Jake snorted at you, something you always thought to be weird coming out as endearing from him.

“I like having you here, baby.”

“I like being here.”

For the next six days in Seogwipo, you barely did anything yet it felt like everything.

Mornings always started with you and Jeonchae sat on the kitchen counter as Jake hovered over the oven, the greatest variation of toast and eggs you had ever known being prepared. And nights always ended in the opposite way. You prepared dinner as Jake stood within reach, always ready to open cans and cut whatever you asked him.

You had to go to the market more times, but you stopped complaining about the motorcycle around the second time, and when you finally met Beomseok and his pickup, you didn’t think of telling Jake to ask for it — but you have to admit, it might have been because the man seemed pretty convinced that you were Jake’s girlfriend or fiancé or whoever could make him say, “you two should marry early. Living your life peacefully is better than anything else”, and you would rather never encounter him again.

Just the memory of it made your cheeks burn.

Jake taught you how to use the credit card machine, and allowed you to take the payments from the customers. You packed orders and watched as he taught people how to do pottery — never touching their projects, “it was just for his worst student,” he whispered when a woman seemed pretty insistent on trying to make him help.

By Thursday Jake asked you if you wanted to help him glaze a few pieces, and when you told him you were afraid of messing up, he laughed at you.

“It’s transparent glaze, baby,” he said. “I don’t know how you could mess this up.” But you liked using the kiln, being the first one to see how Jake’s pieces had turned out after being fired, and organizing it on the shop’s shelves to be purchased.

Mostly, though, you sat on the long table of the shop, Jake, and an endless thread of stories being your company. He couldn’t stay much still, you quickly noticed, always having to be working on something or using gestures throughout his stories. And you couldn’t help but think how Jake glowed there — the place that sculpted him into the person he was today and something within you broke to think of a time he almost lost it all.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

It was Friday morning, the usual hustle and bustle of customers coming momentarily on hold due to the end of the week, and Jake had taken the opportunity to work on a piece of clay as he tended to do when the movement was low, but this one seemed different from his typical methods. He wasn’t using the wheel, but molding it with his bare fingers and a few tools.

“Sculpting,” he said, turning the piece for you, and only then did you notice it was a cat. Chubby and furry.

“Oh my God, is it Jeonchae?” you asked. “I want it, charge me. I want it once you finish.”

“It will be one thousand won, but for you, I will do half of it,” he said. His gaze dropped to the clay once again, but you let your linger on the dark fringe of his lashes, the curve of his full upper lip.

It was easier to look at him like this.

“Do you want to try?” Jake asked.

“What?”

“Sculpting.”

“No.”

“C’mon baby, I got you,” he said, already scrolling back, creating a space in front of him that he was fast to occupy with another stool.

Your body burned as you walked to him, occupying the space between his legs.

“Jake, I am going to mess Jeonchae up,” you said.

“I will help you,” he said, handing you the small piece, but you were saved by the fluttering sound of crystal and bells clanking against the shop door as it was pushed, Mrs. Choi and Euntaek loudly announcing their entrance.

“Oh, sorry for interrupting. I brought some freshly baked pastries for you two,” Mrs. Choi said.

Jake stood up, cleaning his hands on his apron as he walked to them and accepted the tray Mrs. Choi was handing. The old lady rambled about how she had accidentally baked an extra tray this morning, and Euntaek took the opportunity to come in your direction — quickly bringing Jake’s unattended stool to your side. He barely settled himself in as his fingers reached for you, towing for a stray strand of your hair, and brushing it behind your ear. The touch was like a static shock, a spark of energy where skin met skin.

“You didn’t call,” he said. “Or message.”

Euntaek didn’t sound angry or annoyed. If anything, he sounded bemused. As if he wasn’t used by the fact that he might have been forgotten.

“I am sorry,” you hushed, using your wrists to not only brush any other strands he could come to find but to subtly create a distance within you. He smelled like his cigarettes, burning formaldehyde, and tar — something so different from Jake’s scent that you felt the back of your throat burning.

“I guess I was too subtle in stating that I want to go out with you,” he said. “I have a gig tomorrow night, it’s in a bar close to Jeju City — you should come. I can drive us there. We enjoy the rest of the gigs, and then go to one of my bandmates’ place for an after-party.”

“You have a band?” you asked.

“Yeah, rock, but we play a few pop songs once in a while depending on the place,” he said. “So what do you think?”

“I-” you started, looking back at where Jake and Mrs. Choi stood. Although the old lady was still talking, Jake’s eyes were on you as if he had been looking at you the whole time and you suddenly forgot what you were going to say, being mercifully saved by Mrs. Choi calling for her grandson.

She stepped out of the shop, gesturing for Euntaek to hurry up because they had left the bakery unattended. He stood up, his smirk unfaltering.

“Text me your reply, or just shout out the door, I will surely hear from down the street,” he said then, winking at you before he followed his grandmother outside.

Jake closed the door, leaving the tray on an empty wheel before he came back to you, sitting on his stool and tilting his head at you.

“What’s up?” he asked. “You seem bothered.”

“Euntaek just asked me out,” you confessed.

You didn’t notice how still Jake had become until he rubbed his finger against his thumb, brushing his digits as if feeling the remnant of the clay there a moment later.

“Do you want to go out with him?” Jake asked, and he was suddenly back at the university dorms, catching the echoes of your conversation with Jongseong through the phone — listening to how you always came up to your brother for advice, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you were looking up at him right now as a brother.

He was abruptly tired.

“I don’t think so,” you admit. “I just thought — I don’t know, I have never been to a bar nor have been asked to go to a gig. It seems nice, but I don’t know — Euntaek is a bit-”

“Peculiar?”

“Yeah, if we are kindly speaking.”

You turned, your face catching the afternoon light coming from the beveled glasses and Jake noticed a sliver of clay on your cheek, right where you tended to blush. He reached for it, softly caressing his thumb across the dirty skin.

“Clay,” he explained, turning the pad so you could see the remains when you looked back at him. “About Euntaek — it worries me a bit because well — it’s Euntaek, but in any case, you can just call me and I will pick you up. So you should think about it. If it is something that you want to do, you should go.”

And you thought about it.

You thought about it through the rest of the afternoon when a few customers came in. You thought about it when you prepared dinner for the two of you and spared a few pieces of meat to treat Jeonchae. You thought about it as you washed the dishes, appreciating the handmade pieces before you handed it to Jake to dry.

“I think I will go,” you told him. “It’s something I have never done. In the worst cases, I just scratch it and put it on my never doing again list, right?”

“You have a never doing again list?” he asked.

“Yes, and I intended to put riding a motorcycle, but unfortunately I had no choice on this.”

Jake laughed loudly. “It isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, it is,” you confirmed. “My hands are all sweaty every time we use that thing and let me tell you — my hands never get sweaty,”

“But I really enjoy doing the shop’s things.”

Jake tilted his head to the side, a small smile playing on his lips. The softest echo of his laughter. “I am glad to know.”

Sunsets at Jeju were often fairly things — hues of orange and pink painting across the skies as you had never seen before. And although Jake told you that mid-July was supposed to bring the rainy season to the island, Saturday hadn’t been any different. Golden strips of light bathed over the living room as you made your way to Jake’s bedroom.

His door was ajar, but he didn’t seem to notice your approach, still focused on the canvas in front of him. And for a moment, you just watched him, how his head had been tilted in concentration, and how his shoulders moved beneath the thin material of his shirt as he worked.

You knocked as gently as you could, trying your best to not open the door any further.

“Come in,” Jake said.

You pushed the door open, quickly revealing the great mess his room was. None of the bedrooms were really big, but Jake managed to make it even smaller with the amount of canvas and stacks propped against the walls. Everywhere — everywhere, there was something that showed he was an artist. Notebook stuffed by the paint on the papers, stray brushes, and paint. Jake was sitting on the floor, curved upon his newest project, but he straightened his back against what he supposedly called bed when you stepped in, the two mattresses sitting in the middle of the room and guarded by Jeonchae. You breathed a little harder, inhaling the smell of the paint he was using, and Jake — just Jake.

“I am about to leave,” you said, but your words came so small, you doubted Jake had heard you in the middle of the ruffle sounds that came when he stood up, stepping near to his desk and taking a piece of cloth to clean his fingers.

“Is he coming to pick you up?” he asked then, still focused on his hands.

Jake had been in a strange mood all day, but you assumed it was just the heat, settling heavily on the day and spreading with the certainty that summer had arrived. Also, there hadn’t been many customers today which made him decide to close the shop when you said you were going to go to the house and get ready, but there was something there, lurking just behind his actions, some private distress that you couldn’t figure out what was.

“Yes, Euntaek will be here in a few,” you said, but Jake only hummed at you.

You took a step closer to him then, extending him a package of your favorite cookies.

Jake immediately extended his hand at you, halting only when he noticed what you were giving him. “Are you trying to console me?” he asked.

“You have been in a weird mood the whole day, so yeah,” you said, and when he finally looked at you, he was smiling. It wasn’t even half of the smiles Jake tended to give you, barely curling the corner of his lips, but it was enough to make you feel your heart keening, and in the heat of the moment, you turned away, already walking out of his room and into the living room.

You were surprised when you heard him following you, calling you from across the living room. Not baby, but your name — your given name bending on his voice and rolling through the space between both of you. It was the first time he had ever said your name, and it caught you off guard. Not only because of the novelty of it but because no one ever said your name as Jake did — so slow and deliberate as if he wanted to taste the sound of each letter rolling through his tongue, and making you gasp.

“Wait,” he said. “Just — just call me if you feel uncomfortable with anything, alright?”

“Actually call me even if you don’t — even if you simply want to leave. I can go pick you up.”

“I will,” you said. “Thank you, Jake.”

He gave a slight nod in your direction, running his fingers through his hair as if to fix it. But his efforts only seemed to further dishevel his hair, stray strands falling across his forehead, and causing you to lift your hand, the tip of your fingers brushing them back into place before you had even thought this through. His hair was soft beneath your touch, but still somehow different from what you had expected. It was real — much real.

Jake leaned on your touch, coming closer and making his hair fall all over again, but you didn’t mind brushing them again, this time tucking it behind his pinkish ears, and it too — was very much real.

“Do you want me to walk you to his car?” he whispered.

“No, it’s alright,” you whispered back.

Just as you turned to leave, your phone rang, signaling Euntaek’s arrival. You took a deep breath and opened the door, making your way through the front garden and the small path between the shop and the stone wall, into the street, your head bumbling with the deconstruction of everything that had just happened.

Euntaek was leaning on his Jeep, a smirk already on his lips.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

┈

The bar was already full by the time you arrived, but you suspected it always was. Saturday night or any other night. It seemed to be one of those establishments downtown that locals relished because their reputation was tarnished by the fact it wasn’t on the tourist pages, or if it was — it wasn’t as a recommendation.

People milled around on the curb, chatting with their strong Jeju accent as they waited for friends.

Euntaek extended his hand in your direction as you walked past them. It took you a few seconds to notice he was offering it to you, and a few more seconds for you to accept it, allowing him to lead you through the entrance and into the bar.

The rest of his band had already arrived, spread through a rounded table together with a few women in the center of the dimmed-lit place. Euntaek exchanged fist bumps with them, telling you names and statuses you couldn’t truly hear beneath the furor of the place but you pretended that you did. And only by the time he pulled a chair for you, did he let you go, reaching for the breast pocket of his jacket instead as he sat by your side. He took the cigarette box, lighting it up with no ado.

“It’s bad for your health,” you blurted out, quickly causing a laugh to stir from him, the sound coming from the deepest of his body. He took the cigarette away from his mouth, considering the small thing between his fingers before he pressed it against the table. The flame extinguished immediately, but the smell remained.

“Just because I am with you tonight, baby,” he replied, immediately making you stop at the nickname. “I have been meaning to ask, I noticed it was how your brother calls you-”

“My brother?” You cut him out. Although Jongseong did call you baby you couldn’t imagine how Euntaek would come to know.

The crowd cheered as a band took the stage, and Euntael whistled as if you hadn’t said anything, but as the vocalist introduced the band, he turned to you again. “Jake’s your brother, isn’t he?” he asked.

“No,” you said. Maybe it had been the speed at which you denied it, maybe it had been the vexation but you could swear the smirk on his face faltered, dropped by an unsure smile.

“So what are you? Grandma seemed pretty convinced that you are siblings.”

“We-” you started, not sure what should be the rest of the phrase. Jake was still your brother’s best friend and perhaps he would always be, but you had already scratched this connection after the market, knowing it was too unkind to keep your relationship through a third part. You had shared every breakfast ever since you arrived, spent every afternoon together and then dinner, but the word friend didn’t come as easily as you expected it would though you didn’t want to admit the reason yet.

You were saved by one of Euntaek’s bandmates. The drummer, you thought, or the guitarist — you didn’t really hear when he was introduced. He said something in Euntaek’s ear, immediately making him stand up.

“Take care of her for me, Arin,” he yelled to the woman sitting in front of you, but before any of you could reply, he was already following his bandmate through the place, quickly disappearing through the crowd.

“So you are the Seoul girl?” Arin asked. You furrowed your eyebrows at her. You didn’t think she meant to be ambiguous but it made you halt — perhaps you were, perhaps you weren’t. It was quite difficult to tell as you imagined Seoul had a lot of girls, and a lot of girls who were wandering through Jeju in Summer, but by the time you thought about saying it, the question had been hanging in for too long, and Arin had already changed her interest. “I am going to take a drink, do you want something?”

“I would appreciate it.”

“What do you drink?” she asked then, and once again you stopped — not sure of what people usually drank in those types of places. She raised an eyebrow at you then, taking you in.

“Never mind, I got you,” she said, already standing up and making her way to the bar at the farthest end of the room dimly lit, with an array of colorful bottles lining the shelves, and the bartender gave her a knowing nod as she approached.

She returned with a shot, a small glass filled with an unfamiliar liquid. You noticed something small and white dissolving at the bottom of the cup as she placed it in front of you. “It’s a shot, drink it in one go,” she instructed.

You did as she said, at first it tasted sweet, with a faint burn of tequila, but then the world began to distort a little at its edges, and by the time you pulled the cup back into the table, everything had already gone softer.

The crowd erupted in cheers as another song picked up, but you couldn’t come to raise your head at it.

It’s not like you have never had alcohol in your whole life — you did. Sipping your mother’s martinis before it was even legal. Taking Jongseong’s champagne crystal flutes at parties and pretending it was ginger ale until your legal age came and you could order the thing yourself from the counter bars. You weren’t a stranger to the taste of alcohol on your tongue. So you couldn’t understand why your senses seemed so slow and the world so blunted around you. Your mind seemed too full, too empty, too askew. The bar suddenly became too warm and you just wanted a gust of fresh air.

You were almost at the door when someone called for you, but you couldn’t quite focus on the word. In the middle of the bar, the colorful lights flickered and faded.

“Are you alright?” Euntaek asked, taking your wrist and pulling you closer to his warmth. He wasn’t gentle, but you didn’t think he meant to be rough. You were more stuck on the fact you hadn’t noticed when he approached you.

“I think- I think I need to go to the bathroom,” you said.

“Use the one on the second floor, third door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

For several minutes, nothing happened as you stood inside the bathroom. You tried to breathe, but you barely could feel the air coming into your lungs. The world kept going blundered as you sat on the pinkish tiles, pulling your knees to your chest.

Then you reached for your phone.

┈

Jake woke up in the middle of the night to find the living room lights still on and his phone ringing.

He had fallen asleep on the couch, Jeonchae nestled in his arms as he waited — although he wouldn’t admit this last part willingly. He fumbled through the cushions, quickly finding the device as an unsaved number shone for him. The ID came from Seoul, and he didn’t need to think much about it to know it was you.

“Baby?” he tried.

“Jake,” you whispered. Your voice came small from the other end of the line, not quite like yourself. The muted sound of cheers in the background almost swallowed your following words. “I am scared.”

And it was enough to make him wobble, his heart tumbling inside of him, each wall collapsing individually, and crushing the one before it.

“Baby, send me your location, can you? I will be there in a few, alright?” he asked, and you hummed, hanging up so softly he took a few seconds to notice that you did, but he was already slipping through his front door, running through the street until he reached the small house Beomseok resided in. He jumped the stairs to the old man’s door, slamming it a dozen times, and then a dozen more before he could properly think about it.

“Jaeyun, son,” Beomseok exhaled as he opened the door. “Are you alright?”

“I am sorry,” Jake said. “But I need your pickup. Baby- I mean-”

“Your girlfriend?” the old man asked.

“Yes, my- my girl-” Jake mumbled, and he was thankful that the man didn’t inquire anything more before he reached for his entrance table, taking in the vehicle’s key and extending it to Jake.

“Do you want me to come?”

“No, it’s alright. Thank you.”

┈

This part of the island seemed to live in a completely different reality. As the rest of Jeju fell on a sleeping slumber, here it was still blaring with life. The curb outside the bar had been taken by a consistent line of cars, streetlights reflecting on their hoods and leaving not a single space for Jake.

He stopped in the middle of the street — pretty much sure it was the third infraction of the night, hauling the parking brake, and already throwing the door open.

Jake hadn’t been inside somewhere so noisy ever since university, and as he passed the doors, it immediately struck him — the smell of alcohol and damp skin, the smoky air that only could mean cigarettes and things that were illegal in Korea.

“Jake man!” Euntaek’s voice had turned sticky with alcohol, a pinch lower that Jake almost thought it was a stranger, but he would’ve recognized his silhouette anywhere, tall, lanky, and unnervingly annoying. “What are you doing here?”

“Where’s baby?” Jake asked, but Euntaek only blinked at him. The alcohol was making him take too long to comprehend anything, and Jake had to control himself to not reach for him, shaking his head in order to bring it back to its senses.

As Jake spent the last thirty minutes exceeding all the speed limits for you, Euntaek had been drinking his night out.

“She went to the bathroom, third door on the second floor-”

Jake stepped past him.

“What’s that about?” Euntaek asked, rushing behind, but Jake only ignored him, reaching for the bathroom door and trying the knob. It was locked.

“Baby?” he shouted. “It’s me, Jake.”

You reached for the lock, not really moving from your position on the floor and Jake was already opening the door, sighing in relief just at the sight of you.

“Shit. It was Arin, wasn’t it?” Euntaek asked. He was right behind Jake, and the moment he tried to step past to reach for you, Jake was already turning around, physically blocking him. Jake pulled a hand at his shoulders, pushing him against the wall. It was a miracle that you could hear them beneath the furor of the place.

“Your revels and the headaches you give your grandma at the end of the day are not my problem, but if you try involving baby in the middle of this ever again, it will be,” Jake coerced. “And I won’t make it pretty.”

“If you aren’t comprehending this,” he continued. “I will be clearer: from now on you are going to stay away from her.”

A breath shuddered out of you, almost sounding like Jake’s name, a small call that you weren’t sure if you intended to release, but he turned to you then, giving you a glimpse of what Euntaek had been seeing this whole time, and just then. There was something more frightening about him than the whole situation itself. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw clenched. You didn’t blame Euntaek for leaving so fast, but as Jake took the single step between both of you, crouching by your side on the bathroom floor it was all gone.

Jake was all soft again.

“Baby,” he called, just loud enough to be heard. He was mad, and you knew it, but he didn’t allow it to take over his tone — not when it was directed at you.

“I am scared,” you said. “We can’t go to the hospital, I don’t know what it is, but I am sure it is illegal in Korea and-”

You stopped, trying to regroup your intoxicated thoughts.

“Baby,” Jake repeated, almost as gently as how he reached for you, fingers curling around yours, holding your trembling hand and bringing it to his cheek. “It’s alright, I will take care of you.”

“I promise,” he whispered.

“I am sorry,” you said, but Jake just smiled at you, that one broad and reassuring smile.

“It’s fine, let’s go home.”

Jake had said this exact phrase a good amount of times already; as his fingers reached for the keys of his motorcycle at the exit of the market; at the exit of a pet shop you went to buy Jeonchae’s food on Wednesday; as he dropped the shop’s apron after a particularly busy day. But there was something on the way he had said it tonight, so softly and full of protection that home didn’t sound like a synonym for a house — for the place where you both have been sharing through the past week, but somewhere else, somewhere greater, and it ached within you.

You were safe now.

You hadn’t really thought of crying — perhaps the torment of the whole situation stole you from the most common reaction, but the moment Jake kissed the inside of your wrist, it was as if he had broken that thin thread you had kept to prevent yourself from breaking and tears flowed through your eyes as if they would never stop.

Jake didn’t need to ask you to put your arms around his neck, you did it as soon as he curled his arms on you, one on your back, as the other took the back of your legs, carefully lifting you. The full weight of your body in his arms amazed him, you had been taking so much space in his world, that it was hard to believe he could simply hold you like this.

When he reached the main floor and the flickering lights pummeled you once again, you pushed your face further into his neck. The scent of clay was gone, replaced by the faint smell of the flowery soap bar he kept in the bathroom and oranges, but it still lingered in with such familiarity in your lungs that you couldn’t help but close your eyes, breathing him in again.

Jake carried you out of the bar and into the warm summer night. The stars hung so low in the sky that you couldn’t really tell if it was too late or too early as he gently placed you in the passenger seat of Beomseok’s pickup and bent down, shrugging his jacket off to drape around your body.

“Baby,” Jake called, but you were already curling yourself on his jacket, closing your eyes to relish the warmth of it. “Babe, please, I need you to look at me — just for a second, alright?” he asked, cupping your face. His fingers spread against your wet cheeks, angling you to him. And when you looked at him, your pupils were a bit wider, dazed, and he shuddered out a breath at the view, his heart thrumming against his ears. He was terrified now that he could think about it. “Has anyone tried to touch you?”

“No, I had been in the bathroom the whole time.”

“Alright then,” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos of the night. He closed the door gently and walked around to the driver’s side, every movement meticulous and deliberate, as if afraid the world might shatter around him if he wasn’t careful enough.

The city slid beyond the pickup’s window as Jake drove away, but you didn’t turn your head — didn’t watch how the moon streamed through the fields of green tea, rather you watched as the street lights caught on Jake’s hair, turning the dark strands into copper.

“Jake,” you called. He looked at you, trying to spare his attention between the road and you, so you reached for him on the gearshift, resting your palm above the back of his hands. Almost immediately his hand shifted beneath you, turning so he could hold you back.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You hummed. “Are you?”

Jake chuckled at that, squeezing your hand. “I am fine — sorry about my reaction with Euntaek. Jay always said I had anger issues.”

“Anger issues?” you echoed.

“Yeah. But never on that level, honestly. I am glad he didn’t take it to the core because I wouldn’t know what to do afterward,” he confessed. “I had never been in a fight.”

Maybe it had been the alcohol still in your system, mixed up with the drug, or maybe it simply had been Jake, and his presence always making everything easier for you, but you laughed then, and Jake smiled in response, not straying his eyes away from the road. He looked more like himself than he had done the whole day, and you silently vowed to do whatever it took to keep him like that.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I told you I would,” Jake replied, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand in a gentle, reassuring motion.

┈

As Jake gently sat you on the bed, a faint light filtered through the curtains of his grandparent’s old room. It was just enough for you to see him bending down in front of you, his hands hovering over your knees before he decided to rest them on his own thighs.

“I feel disgusting,” you blurted out.

“You are not disgusting,” he said. Even in the dark, you could sense the smile on him, the softest of it reaching you before the view itself. Jake reached for you then, a single hand already taking a strand of your hair and brushing it away from your cheeks. “I swear, there’s nothing disgusting about you.”

“I am smelling, the sheets—”

“We can wash it in the morning.”

“I-” you started, thoughts still a bit too slow. The summer heat, leftover makeup, and the hours in the bar’s bathroom were fetching your dress, sticking to your skin, and making you feel awful now that you could truly care. “I need a shower.”

He exhaled then, but he didn’t disagree, instead, he asked, “Can you gather your things? I will turn the shower on.”

You nodded, feeling a bit relieved at his calmness.

Jake disappeared to the bathroom. Soon enough the sound of the water cascading down filled the silent house, and by the time you stepped into the white-tiled room, the steam was already rising. The stool where Jake kept his stuff vacant beneath the water.

“If you feel dizzy, sit down,” he instructed. “I will be outside if you need anything.”

You barely could nod again before he stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you to strip and step into the shower by yourself. The warmth of the water enveloped you, and suddenly the whole incident seemed an age ago. Another you had gone to the bar with Euntaek, stood among strangers, and beneath flickering lights — now there was only the streaming water and the flowery scent of Jake’s soap bar — Jake.

The bathroom felt smaller at the thought of him, brighter, and you doubt it was the drugs still acting in your system, but you sat on the stool anyway, staring at the white titles with the sudden realization. Jake had done so much for you, more than you had ever asked for, and the thought of being a burden weighed heavily on your heart.

It didn’t help that when you finally stepped out of the bathroom, he was sitting on the floor, head tilted to the ceiling as a bottle of water and a package of your favorite cookies were balanced on his lap.

He stood up, offering you the cookies first. Your hand hung above the extended package for a heartbeat more.

“I gave you the last package,” you remembered.

“I felt already solaced enough when you gave them to me,” he said. “Now I think you need-”

You opened it, shoving a cookie into your mouth, entirely, and Jake followed suit, taking one from your hands and shoving it into his mouth too. You laughed at him, unconsciously.

It was so easy to be with him.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” he said then, holding his hand out to you. Sugar stained the tip of his fingers. But you took it anyway, letting him lead you back to your bedroom.

As you climbed onto the bed, Jake hovered close to you, making sure you were comfortable as he helped you tuck yourself in with the blankets.

“I will stay here for a bit, alright?” he asked. “We don’t know what they gave you, so let’s be attentive to fevers or any reaction.”

You looked up at him. The bedroom had turned dimmer — the outside suddenly vivid in comparison to the dark room once again and the street lamps filtered through the curtains, bathing Jake in such a soft light.

In the midst of your silence, he sat on the floor, back promptly against the mattress, but then you reached for him, tucking at the lines of his t-shirt.

“Stay — sleep here, on the bed.” It took him a long time to make sense of your request, and when he did, the surprise kept him from moving for another moment before finally, he climbed to the bed, lying above the blankets.

Neither of you moved, not a single twitch. But then you reached to the front of his t-shirt, and he shifted onto the blankets, maneuvering closer to you. The collar of his t-shirt hung loose, showing his silver necklace, and allowing it to glint beneath the dimmed light. The tip of your fingers grazed through the skin-warmed metal before you could even notice, and once again you caught yourself wondering if you had gone too far — your body reacting to Jake before your own mind did, but before you could retreat, he reached for you too, his fingers curling around your wrist, thumb brushing against your pulse and causing you to close your eyes.

“I am never again going to a bar.”

“Traumatic first time, right?” Jake asked, and you didn’t need to open your eyes to know, he was smiling.

“Yes.”

“I will take you another day,” he resolved. “Let’s forget this first time, pretend it didn’t happen. I will give you a better memory.”

“I am sorry for everything,” you said. “It’s a rotten work, right? Taking care of me?”

“No, it’s not — I mean, not to me, not if it’s you,” he replied. You opened your eyes, encountering his gaze. His eyes were bright in a way that made your skin sprinkle beneath the night.

“Have some sleep, baby,” he whispered then. “I am here.”

You were not sure for how long you both stayed like this, but you had fallen asleep before he did. His light and watchful breaths lulling you to sleep, and stealing you from the moment he brought you closer, to him, your pulse steady against his lips.

“Baby?” Jake called. “Is it ok if I fall in love with you? You do not see me as a brother, do you?”

When you woke up, the house had been so silent that you had almost expected Jake to have already gone to the shop, starting his day ahead of you. But as you padded barefoot to the kitchen, you found him there, head resting against the dining table, lashes against his cheeks.

The year had just reached that point where the afternoons had an impossible glow — an idealist painter taking the lead of the world and suddenly turning everything into a vivid canvas. The curtains moved in the afternoon breeze, allowing the beams of light to come and go on Jake’s sleeping form, catching on his skin and picking strands of his hair, turning everything into gold.

You took the chair by his side and rested your head on the table just like him. After a moment, you carefully stroke a few golden strands of his hair, moving it away from his forehead, and drawing it to the back of his ear as you had done on the night previous. Jake opened his eyes then, a bit confused and fuzzy with sleep, but the sunlight caught them too, melting the darkness into gold, and you felt your breath catching in your throat.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I was going to make breakfast but I fell asleep.”

“I am the one sorry for making you stay up last night.”

“Yes, you are the one to blame,” he laughed, but he didn’t raise his head from the table — instead, he reached for you too, tracing your features with the delicacy you imagined artists would devote only to their masterpieces. The wind rushed through an ajar window. And for a moment, there was no time, just one breath after another, and Jake’s fingers on you.

Years from now, someone was going to ask you when you fell in love with Jake. You wouldn’t know how to reply. You never knew the exact moment when your heart decided that the next beat would be for Jake, you only knew that it had been built for you pretty much as the summer came to Seogwipo, the flower withering almost imperceptibly day by day, leaving only the greenish tone of the warm season until it was inevitable and you wondered how haven’t you noticed the small changes before. And then, you would remember this moment. Gleaming eyes on you, artsy fingers trailing through your hair. Because it was the moment you realized it already happened — you were in love with Jake.

You turned the thought in your mind, over and over again, expecting that every time you uttered that small secret the truth would feel smaller, something you could hold in the palm of your hand and hide within your pockets without anyone noticing. But instead, the more you turned it over the more it seemed to take over you.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Nauseous or something? I was searching for a hangover soup recipe, although I am not sure hangover is the exact term after being drugged.”

“I am fine, just a bit tired,” you said.

“That makes two of us.”

Somewhere over the surface of the table, Jake’s phone started to ring, a soft tune you are almost sure the system named it after a tree, the rustling sound of when the breeze hit it, and maybe that’s why none of you moved, not even when it went to the voicemail and started all over again.

“Maybe you should pick up,” you said, Jake hummed at you. He definitely should — no one would casually call him on a Sunday afternoon if not in an emergency, but despite the distress about it, he took a little longer to let you go, lingering on the warmth of your skin for a moment more before he reached for his phone.

You watched as his eyes widened a bit, a slightly curse forming on his lips as he straightened himself on his chair, but before you could ask who it was, the front door was thrown open.

You knew it wasn’t a real thing, but you could swear your heart quelled, a tiny gap forming where a heartbeat should be at the view of your brother.

“If it isn’t the two people I have been looking for,” Jongseong said. A smile played on his lips, but you quickly realized it was those types of smiles people gave in the middle of annoyance and not because they actually thought the situation was funny.

Your brother pressed something on his phone, immediately making Jake’s phone start ringing once again. “And look, their phones do work.”

┈

It was a dream — it had to be. Perhaps you were still drugged in the bathroom of that dirty bar close to Jeju City because there was no way your brother was standing here. Jongseong belonged to your life in Seoul, your parents’ minimalist house, and the Michelin restaurants. He belonged to the fancy attorney’s gathering and champagne on crystal flutes. The mornings filled with pollution clouds, and the nights buzzed with the traffic on the avenues, but not to Jeju — not to your Seogwipo. It was silly and you knew it. Your brother had known this place before you — he had come here before you, some week after their graduation to help Jake move in, but you suddenly felt overprotective over the place, as if he was going to take it away from you — or take you away from it, actually.

There were no greetings, no hugs or smiles. There was just your brother walking to the kitchen, and standing as tall as he could in front of you and Jake.

The house was starting to get hot and drowsy by the setting afternoon, the July sun streaming directly at the dining table and onto your back as you watched your brother sigh and then sigh some more.

You didn’t need to tell him about the landlord, the summer storm, Jeonchae, the half deposit. Jongseong had discovered everything through the landlord himself when he went there early this morning.

“He was really unpleasant,” Jongseong said. “But have you ever thought about calling me? Fuck, baby. I wouldn’t tell mom and dad if you didn’t want me to, but I could have helped you.”

“How did you even come here?” Your brother asked.

You weren’t really sure about what he intended to get with his question, but still, you replied, your voice coming smaller than you remembered it ever being. “I took the bus,” you told him.

“Do you even know how to take a bus?” he asked then. It had been just words — unconcrete things that shouldn’t weigh anything but it did and the heaviness of it made something within your chest ache. Honestly, you didn’t know how to take a bus. Your parents had made sure you never needed to use public transportation, always being free in the morning to take you to school, and after that, to doctor appointments, extra classes, and wherever you needed to go. You had asked at the terminal, a gentle lady who ended up questioning how old were you when she noticed how confused you were. But to admit would only worsen the situation, so you didn’t. “That’s it, I am taking you back to Seoul.”

“Jay,” Jake called, his voice cutting through the small gasp you realize.

Jongseong stopped, all together with you, and you took the opportunity to turn to Jake, watching as he pushed himself from where he stood against the window, countering the table, and coming in the direction of your brother. A single hand rested on your brother’s shoulder and you weren’t sure if Jake was assuring him, or holding him. “Let’s talk for a second.”

“Baby, go to the shop for a bit for me, will you?” It wasn’t the question, but how Jake did it — the words directed to you when nothing of his body did that made you stand up, walking the path to the front door, stopping only to take the key at the entrance table before you stepped out.

“She calls my parents every day,” Jongseong said, his voice coming so perfectly through the wooden door that instead of going to the shop, you stood still, hearing them through. “Day and night.”

“I have heard a few times,” Jake said.

“And she hadn’t said anything about the landlord — she didn’t say anything about coming here.”

“Maybe she just didn’t feel the necessity.”

There was a pause, none of them saying anything and you knew your brother all too well to know he was using this to shoot Jake a pointed look.

“Oh please,” your brother murmured then. “She thought it was better to come here and bother you rather than calling me?”

Bother. The word felt like a slap on your face. Your heart pounded in surprise, a flush of warmth spreading through your cheeks and suddenly you didn’t want to hear the rest — but because you couldn’t move, you did. You heard your brother rambling about how you turned Jake’s life upside down, taking the settled routine he so laboriously built and made it into a mess. You had even brought a kitten! Jake didn’t even like kittens, he was a dog person for God’s sake.

“Stop,” Jake said. There was no anger in his voice, no unfairness. He said it just like he had called for your brother earlier on, that voice that could never not be listened to, and once again your brother turned silent. “You are being unreasonably rude. Baby is not bothering me — actually, she has been helping ever since she arrived.”

“Oh, is she?”

“She helps me with the market, and the food,” Jake said, and you really hoped he meant you went to the market with him, and prepared the food, because never once had Jake allowed you to pay for anything — not even a few nights ago when you told him you were getting ice cream from the convenience store and he ran after you, catching you on the sidewalk. He took your wallet from your hands and replaced it with his credit card, a minion printed on it that immediately made you laugh because, of course, Jake would have those printed credit cards. “She helps me in the shop.” that one felt more like a lie than the rest, you did stay in the shop with him, but help felt too deep for this stupid act.

“You are just mad because she didn’t call you as she is used to,” Jake concluded.

“Because she didn’t call me?” Jongseong echoed. He sounded to be talking partly to himself, that shocking echo people give when taken by the genuine surprise — Jake being good at seeing not only the nuances of your being but your brother’s as well.

The silence that followed was longer, and when it ended it came with the sound of cabinets being opened and closed, their soft rustle making it too hard to get the words and by the moment you noticed someone was approaching the door it was too late to leave.

Jake walked straight into you, stopping for a single second before he closed the door behind him. You would have thought he was going to pretend you weren’t there if he hadn’t smiled at you, and what a smile Jake. Just at the sight of it, your heart tethered itself. Not completely, but enough to stop quivering so much.

“Jake, I-”

He shook his head, silencing you by reaching out at you. His hands cupped your face — thumbs immediately cleaning the tears you hadn’t realized you had shed.

“He wants to talk to you. Wait a bit before coming in,” he whispered. “I am going to the market for a bit, alright?”

You nodded, leaning on him. You didn’t remember the decision to, only that you did, inclining your face in his palms as if it was the most natural thing to do. And although you didn’t shed any more tears, Jake rubbed his thumbs on your cheeks once again, immediately making something move inside of you, humming with warmth.

“Alright,” he whispered, stepping away. You watched as he crossed the garden, pulling his hands on the front pockets of his jeans as he tilted his head up to the sky, allowing the sun to bathe his skin, his hair, beams of light simply not being able to not reach for him. And once again you were reminded of how Jake belonged in this place.

The afternoon was utterly quiet. You could hear the breeze brushing through the brushes at the other side of the street and then another cabinet was opened and closed, and you sighed, taking the knob in your hand.

By the time you stepped inside the house once again, abandoning the shop key back on the entrance table, Jongseong was rubbing a hand over his face, his anger completely burned out by itself. He opened his arms at you in a silent yet clear invitation for a hug, and it was enough for you to rush through the house, curling your arms around your brother’s shoulders.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “Jake said I was mad just because you hadn’t called me for help, and yes, he is right — throughout the whole way here, I kept wondering why you didn’t call me before doing anything.”

“But I guess it was my fault. I was too harsh on you when you said you wanted to spend your summer alone, but what I genuinely meant was that you shouldn’t do anything alone, you always got me.”

Your heart keened at his words. You knew it — you knew you never had been truly alone. Not even when you stood in front of the apartment in Jeju City, the kitten in a carrier, and Jake’s address on your phone. You knew that if your immediate plan didn’t work, you could just call them — your mother, your father, Jongseong. They would find a way for you. You had never needed to be truly afraid. There had always been another hand to catch you, or at least to hold you as the things scrambled eminently.

“I don’t want to study law,” you whispered, it was so sudden, you didn’t know what fanthom you to say it. Your voice came so low yet still, you could hear the uneasiness on it, the truth being finally put into words. Your brother’s grip tightened on you, bringing you so close into him that you felt his tiny exhale.

“I know, baby,” he said. “Dad and mom know too.”

For a moment, you didn’t understand what he meant — the realization taking too long and weighing your body through the seconds that followed.

“Why do you think they allowed you to come to Jeju alone so fast?” he asked, moving away from you only enough for you to see his face. “I know you have it in you that you have to live greatly to not be a deception for mom and dad, but baby — we are so rich, and I am not talking about money, but love. Whatever you decide to do mom and dad will support you with the only thought of you being genuinely happy about it.”

“Listen,” Jongseong said. “Maybe it won’t be so easy to live with this, but you already got the good grades, and the school awards I failed, you finished the extra classes I dropped, and you carried all the expectations they could have had for us during school time, so let me carry the expectations they could have for after it.”

“The world’s always going to need lawyers, but it’s always going to need whatever you choose to do too. Find your way,” he said. “It’s not that bad, look at Jake — you know about his family, right?”

You hummed at him.

“I have to say, I was quite worried when I left him here after our graduation, I couldn’t imagine what would be like to live without the support of our parents, but he seems alright.”

“He is,” you said. Not sure how much true it was, he ate only lamen by the time you arrived, and although you had never seen him drinking, there were way too many beer bottles inside of the fridge, but somehow you believed that if he wasn’t, he was getting there.

“Do you want to stay here?” Jongseong asked then.

You moved closer to Jongseong once again, resting your cheek on his shoulders as you looked at the living room’s window. Outside, Seogwipo was as halted as it had always been, the sound of the bushes hanging tiny and fragile in the summer air, and you felt your chest aching.

How you wanted to stay.

┈

Jake couldn’t remember a time when the house had been this full — not that it was a difficult thing. His grandparents’ house was small and cluttered, too many years had turned it almost impracticable, too many mismatched furniture, and decorations that should have become an affective memory rather than staying an actual thing in the house. But as he came back from the market it was full in a different way.

Jongseong started complaining as soon as he spotted Jake because hadn’t I told you, Jake, to sharpen your knives when I left? And these pans were still your grandma’s? Jake, I-

But Jake was only half listening, handing Jay the plastic bags, he countered the dining table to stay in front of where you sat. You had changed, trading your pajama set for a pinkish sundress, the tone matching almost too perfectly with the color of your cheeks when you looked up at him, abandoning the task of cutting the vegetables and smiling.

You were smiling — smiling and definitely not packing your bags. And it shouldn’t be, but it was enough to loosen all the ties on his chest.

If Jake were to be honest, your brother wasn’t completely wrong — you had turned his world upside down. Years ago, he had moved to Ventura, a city so empty and full of regrets, he had lost something of himself there, a piece he thought he could rebuild once he had moved back to Korea, graduated on the major he always wanted, and inherited the shop. But instead, he watched the weeks flying by in between late nights alone, beers and clay — and then — and then, one day you showed up, wearing a brand dress as if it was nothing and a stray kitten on a carrier, and suddenly he didn’t need to pretend he was alright. He was.

It was a hell of a ride to have you here, but God — Jake would trade it for nothing.

“Naturally annoyed,” you mouthed, and the spell was broken. Jake laughed — only once as he tried to cough out the rest, but then, you were laughing too, and your brother demanded that both of you leave to go somewhere else because you were annoying him.

You both were still laughing when you stepped out into the garden, taking the side path and stopping in front of the shop. In the hurry of leaving none of you took the key to the shop where you had left it, and Jake showed you the flower pot where he hid the extra keys underneath it.

“The biggest one is for the house, and the smallest for the shop.” He didn’t look at you as he said it, his head still tilted to the small flower pot and allowing a few strands of his hair to fall over his forehead. A smile tucked at the corners of his lips, and he seemed so young like this — so pure. The words Jongseong had said twirled through your mind, and you didn’t know what had been on your face, perhaps the sadness of not knowing how to tell him he was doing alright and that you were proud of him, but when Jake looked at you a frown took up the space between his brows. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you whispered.

“You are going to stay, right?”

“Can I?”

“Of course, you can baby,” Jake said. His words were so soft that the breeze nearly destroyed them. “I like having you here.”

“That’s a good thing, because while you were on the market I called my parents, and told them I am staying here.” you told him. “My mom said she will mail us a few things and that she misses you.”

“But about Jeonchae-” you continued.

“Don’t take to the heart what your brother said,” Jake asked. “I never had a cat, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like them — actually, I have been thinking about adopting Jeonchae — if you allow me.”

“There would be no better home for him.”

It was alright, honestly, until it wasn’t.

Jongseong prepared brunch for the three of you, and cleaned the house as if it was a task. He asked you if your room was alright and if you needed him to buy anything because he could get it delivered to you.

“We are in Seogwipo, Jay,” you said. “I don’t know if it’s how things work here.”

Your brother seemed about to retort, but in the silence that followed he understood what you meant. There were no traffic sounds filling up the gaps between your conversation, no machines or reform sounds, it was just the breeze of the sea and nothing else.

“But tell me,” he said. “If you need anything. I can find a way.”

“I know,” you whispered.

After dinner, the three of you spread on the greenish grass of Jake’s garden, something you didn’t really know how you hadn’t thought of before. The moon was beautiful this time of the year and the grass was warm against your skin, the peak of summer giving you its all, and turning into a great memory for the next day, when another summer storm finally came in, making the downtown building steadily dripping as the three of you made your way to the restaurant Jongseong had chosen for his last night in the island.

The place was fairly simple for your brother’s exquisite taste and surprisingly empty. No one aside from a group of friends at the far end of the room, and the waitress.

She was somewhere between yours and Jongseong’s age. And a piece of art. She barely looked at you as you made your order, keeping her attention on the side of the table where your brother and Jake sat, and although it wasn’t clear which one of them had caught her fixation you felt your heart keen a bit. Her wavy hair had been held by a dozen pins — not the golden ones you kept in a jewelry box and which perfectly matched all your other accessories, but colorish ones, pink and blue pins holding her hair, and keeping them away from her freckles cheeks. Her necklace was made of beads just like a string she kept on the belt. She was the embodiment of the kids who were born in Jeju and were proud of it, and if you stopped to think about it carefully, she was completely Jake’s style. Artsy and free.

“You know what?” Jongseong said as the waitress left. “I am glad you both met — my beautiful family is finally reunited.”

“What?” Jake asked. “Is baby our love child now?”

“No. I meant my sister is your sister.”

There was a lost moment, a second where you should have released the air from your lungs but you didn’t, and it passed with it stuck in. Jake, however, laughed — out loud as he reached for the cup of water, swallowing the whole thing before he pulled it back onto the table but he didn’t deny — didn’t say he didn’t see you like this and the topic died between both of them, leaving you as the only one still stuck on it throughout the whole dinner, chest tighter than before and it didn’t help that when Jongseong finally called for the bill the waitress asked for Jake’s number.

None of you moved, not even Jongseong, and you took the opportunity to reach for the pickup’s key in front of Jake, murmuring something about waiting in the car. It seemed to take all of them out of the haze. Jake finally strayed his eyes from the waitress, and you were pretty sure that there was a reply, but you were already hurling out of your seat, and walking to the front door.

The weather had cooled down, another sparse rain treating to fall as you walked to where Jake had parked the pickup. The vehicle supposedly had a back seat, but the place was so small and cluttered — there was no particular discussion before you had been assigned for it on the ride here. Jake had pushed the driver seat forward, his hand resting at the sharp edge of the roof, so you didn’t hit your head as you jumped to the back, but you might not have paid attention enough. It didn’t matter how you tried to push it forward now, it didn’t seem to come in.

A curse was already escaping from your lips by the time you heard the front door of the restaurant being opened again — Jake surging in the yellowish light of the restaurant, already walking towards you.

“Baby, wait,” he asked. “You are going to hurt yourself like this.”

You stopped for a moment, the concern in his voice making your whole body cease to work, your heart stopping long enough to make you feel empty inside of yourself.

Jake was a nice guy. You knew it — had spent enough time watching as he smiled at strangers, presenting so much kindness that made it impossible for somebody to be uncomfortable with him. You had listened to him talking enough to know he truly cared about people and wouldn’t have a second thought before helping anyone in need and that was the problem. He was a nice guy, careful, and kind, but you had misread it as love and you had believed he could have fallen for you too.

“Baby,” he tried again. But you gave the final push and the driver’s seat finally gave in. Jake only had time to place his hand at the sharp edge of the roof, so you didn’t hit your head but this time you didn’t thank him, only hurling a great shuddered breath that was too close to tears.

┈

It had already been two nights ever since Jake had slept in your room, but you could swear, the sheets were still smelling like him.

You lay there, telling yourself to sleep, but instead, you found yourself standing up, tearing the sheet off the mattress, and tugging it into a small ball before you walked out to the living room, intending to put it on the washing machine. It was too late to make it run, yet the simple idea of doing something made you feel better and you continued but as you stepped out, there he was.

Even before the dim light of the living room bathed over, you had felt him. A piece of warmth in the middle of the cold night. A stroke of golden in the middle of a black canvas.

Jake looked up at you, straying his gaze from the cup of water in his hands, his eyes were so painfully soft beneath the dim light of the kitchen, your heart keened at the view and you wished you truly could hate him, turn all this mess inside of you into simple repulsion.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked then, and you hummed at him, already starting towards the bathroom.

You took your time putting the sheets inside the machine, loading everything as if you could start it this late at night because you expected that when you stepped out Jake would have already gone back to his bedroom, yet he didn’t, preferring to walk after you, leaning on the door jamb, hands shoved in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, as he often did.

“You are mad,” Jake said. He had already lost countable hours playing and replaying the events in the restaurant, trying to find where he could have done something that wronged you. He was profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of you being disappointed with him, and perhaps that was it that turned him too dull-edged to analyze it more. Jake just wanted to know. “Was it because of the waitress?”

Your eyes met, and your whole body warmed, a different heat from the anger you had been feeling earlier taking over you.

“Why would I be mad about her?” It had been a question, but it very much felt like the answer he needed because he smiled — faintly before he composed himself but not enough for you to not notice how his eyes were gleaming, and in the rush of the moment you started toward your — his grandparents’ old room, trying to step past him, but he caught your wrist, the sudden contact startling you so much that you tripped. Jake caught you, moving you until the low of your back met the kitchen counter.

If the scent of his floral soap flinging from the bathroom wasn’t a great indication that he barely had left the shower, the water droplets still clinging to the edges of his hair were — rivulets raced down his jaw and into his throat, making it even harder to look at him.

God — this whole day was a huge mistake.

“I am trying to see things from your point of view, baby, but I am having a very difficult time here,” Jake admitted. “I said I wasn’t interested — actually, I don’t even know what I told her before I rushed after you, but it was some variation of a no,”

“And the other option would be because of what Jay said then. Because I didn’t reply. But what did you want me to tell him?” Jake continued, the words coming so hurried and blurted, almost as if all he just wanted was to get it out of him. “I couldn’t tell him the truth, baby. I couldn’t simply say no, baby is never going to be a sister to me because I think I am in love with her — Jay would have taken you out of that restaurant in the same second and caught the first flight back to Seoul, and every time I think of you leaving, I feel so uptight — hell, Y/N, I feel so-”

His hand slipped from your wrist, folding his fingers through yours and bringing your hand to the back of his neck as he pulled you forward — or moved himself in. You weren’t sure what was happening anymore, everything inside of you was humming and making it difficult to think but his forehead was resting against yours and when he spoke again, it came as nothing but a hush of breath, the softest gust of air against your lips.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asked then.

You couldn’t say something. Not when your heart was cracking open under the weight of everything. But then the sound of a door being opened filled your silence and Jake moved back, his hands falling away and making your skin tingle, already missing his warmth.

“Do you always stay up until this late?” Jongseong asked.

“Yeah,” Jake replied, so fastly, you would have believed it if you hadn’t seen him knock out right after dinner for a couple of nights.

“It’s terrible for your health, you know?” your brother asked then, but none of you replied — you weren’t even sure if you had breathed as Jay walked to the fridge taking in a bottle of water and going back to Jake’s room without any other word.

But as the door clicked shut again, you turned back to Jake pushing yourself on the tip of your toes, hands finding and curling on the front of his t-shirt for support. He was trembling — or perhaps you were. You didn’t give yourself another second to consider anything before you placed your lips on the shell of his ears whispering: “I am in love with you too.”

And before Jake could hold you, you had gone. You had slipped out of his reach and the kitchen, rushing to your room and closing the door with a soft click.

Jake touched his ear then, pressing the place where your lips had been almost as if he could hold the words you had just uttered. He laughed, and then, he laughed some more, tilting his head to the ceiling and allowing the sound to spread through the night. He couldn’t care that your brother could appear again asking what was happening, Jake felt like he had experienced all the types of emotions known to mankind in a single hour and most importantly — you were in love with him.

You were in love with him too.

On the morning of the next day, Jake went to Beomseok to ask for the pickup once again and the three of you climbed up to it, taking the road to the airport.

The drive was surprisingly quiet. None of you had spoken the whole way up through the island, the sound of the wind coming through the open windows and the radio were the only things filling the space. And then an old song came in, something about country road and going to the place the singer belonged. Jake was the first one to murmur the lyrics, Jongseong following suit, their voices turned a pitch lower to match the singer’s tune and you couldn’t help but laugh.

In the rearview mirror, Jake caught a glimpse of you. You had tied your hair due to the wind, but stray strands wounded up around your neck as you threw your head back. He had never considered himself dotted in the artist’s eyes, curious and searching, always studying the subject and seeing something more than the concrete shapes. No, he always had been a realist rather than an impressionist, but then you straightened yourself back, caught his gaze in the rearview, your laugh turning into nothing but a soft smile on your lips, and for a slip second, he was — dotted and impressionist. And everything he wanted was to capture your warmth on a sculpture, a canvas — anything he could come back whenever he felt like faltering.

Out of Jongseong’s view, Jake drooped his hand between the driver’s seat and the door. His palm up, fingers stretched only enough to brush against your knees, catching your attention. You touched his fingertips, pinching his fingers, just for a moment, and then he withdrew his hand and put it back on the wheel.

“Jake, the exit!” Jongseong snapped.

“Oh shi-” Jake steered in a hurry, passing through the raised pavement markers. Jongseong reached for the handle above the door, the same curse Jake failed to complete fleeing through your brother’s lips and stealing another laugh from you, but this time Jake didn’t look through the rearview, his heart already was seconds away from bursting.

┈

“We are here,” Jongseong said, eyeing the airport for a split second before he turned to Jake.

“Don’t you want us to go inside?” he asked.

“It’s alright,” your brother replied. “It’s not like I am taking a long flight — thank you for the ride, and everything. I am leaving a great responsibility but feel free to just call me, I can come pick her up if you grow tired.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jake said. He extended his hand at your brother, that friendly handshake followed by a bump of shoulders guys loved to do, and then Jongseong turned to you. It was hard to hug, but you pushed yourself through the middle of the seats anyway, arms curling on your brother’s shoulders as he hugged you back.

“Take care of yourself, alright, baby?” Jongseong whispered. “And call me if you need anything.”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. “Thank you, Jay.”

He gave you one last squeeze before freeing himself, opening his door, and jumping out of the pickup. He hauled his carry-on from the trunk with no effort, a small smile on his lips before he turned around, and walked to the airport.

“Hey,” Jake whispered, his hand thumbing against yours. “Since we were in Jeju City, why don’t we do something over here?”

┈

You had already heard about the art museum of Jeju — had walked to it during the week you stayed in the city. The immersive digital exhibition had been listed as one of the must-go spots on the island by diverse tourist sites, but the sight of a group of friends arriving made you step away — too awkward to go inside and wander through the rooms all by yourself.

But today — today you had Jake.

The first room was a forest, red flowers hanging on the trees as their petals twirled through an imagined wind.

“Do you have an artsy explanation for this?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Once I went to an exhibition in Seoul with a friend — lights and something was the name. I spent the whole exhibition just appreciating its beauty, and then in the last room there were points of light imitating the pattern of birds’ flocking, that was when a woman appeared, she was with her son, and then she started giving a whole explanation about how birds never stray away from each other, always sharing their difficulties to reach a common goal and how that was what the artist wanted to show,” you said. “Ever since that day, I kept wondering if artists always intend to give deeper meanings to their creations than just beauty.”

Jake tilted his head back, red petals projecting on his face as he watched the exhibition going on. You knew they weren’t concrete, just a projector streaming images on him, but when they slid through his cheeks, you had that odd desire to reach for it. He looked at you then, leaning in, his eyes flickered beneath the lights, mischief glinting as if he wanted to tell you the most beautiful thing he had ever known.

“I personally think it’s just pretty,” he said, however, and you laughed at this, head thrown back, the sound so carefree and soft — your laughter seemed to be coming easier now and it was impossible for him to not smile back at you. “But if you want a more scholarly answer I would say: because art is an expression of personal perspective it is subjective. Their meaning and even what it makes others feel. Someone might come here and just think it’s pretty like me, but someone else might come here and feel like this field is speaking to them, a whisper from their childhood, a secret memory of their first love, or even a sign for a future decision. Art will never strike everyone in the same way.”

“Once a Spanish painter said you can look at a picture for a week and never think of it again. You can also look at a picture for a second and think of it all your life,” he continued. “Or something like that, the point is-”

“Some things leave no impression, meanwhile others become a life mark — there will always be the before and the after,” you said.

“Yes.”

The next room was a maze of paper lanterns. A couple of siblings ran in between on a game of tag, and when the boy rushed past you, you had to step closer to Jake, tucking on his jacket for support and being completely unaware of how he melted there. But if anything, he just slid his hand on yours, interlacing your fingers and guiding you through the rest of the exhibition.

There were more fields, and mountains projected on idealist sunset skies. There was an empty room in which flowers grew whenever you touched, and when you brought it to Jake’s attention, drawing a tiny line of flowers, he pulled you through the room, your finger still pressed on the wall and leaving a trail of flowers behind.

But it was the last room that genuinely made you stop — waterfalls of golden, electricity blazing and pulsing and cascading down around you like fallen stars.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered. “Life-changing beautiful.”

“It really is.” You turned to him, but he had his gaze already fixed on you, his eyes gleaming, lips curling. He had no embarrassment in letting you know he had been looking at you for the whole while.

Jake used your connected hands to pull you to him, and suddenly he was so close and the air stuffy. When he reached for a strand of your hair, he smelled like clay, that earthy scent that was already turning into your summer redolence and oranges.

“Am I too late to be your first kiss, baby?” Jake asked.

The moment seemed to take forever, it seemed to take no time at all. Your simple you are unfolded slowly, blending with the echoes of the world very — very softly, and perhaps it was what prevented his heart from breaking there.

“But I don’t mind forgetting it,” you whispered. “Pretend it never happened.” It was just the echo of his words on your lips, but he was smiling then, his hand leaving yours only to cradle your cheeks, holding you as he leaned over — his mouth hovering over yours, parted lips brushing on a kiss that wasn’t a kiss. And you knew you had told him you could forget your first time, but when his hand slid to the back of your neck, angling you up so he could pinch on your bottom lip, it was hard to not forget it. No one had ever kissed the way Jake did. He seemed to want to relish it, feeling you through each passing second of your connected lips. He seemed to not want to let it go, memorizing you through each heartbeat as he just grazed his mouth against yours, catching his breath before he kissed you again and again and again.

Someone cleaned their throat, immediately making both of you part, lips swollen, and causing you to bury your face in his chest, but Jake only laughed — the sound echoing through your body as he reached for you again, an arm curling around your waist as the other sized for the top of your head, tangling his fingers on your hair as he held you to him and murmured an apology to whoever it had been.

“What do you say about us getting some milkshakes before going home?” Jake asked then, lips falling on the shell of your ear as if it was just another ordinary day — like you were still Jake and baby from a few hours previous and that the taste of his smile wasn’t still lingering on your tongue. But that was the greatest thing about being with Jake: he made everything easy. And when he stepped away, holding his hand out for you, you took it without a second thought, allowing him to guide you out of the museum and back to the pickup.

┈

“Who was it?” Jake asked.

“What?” you asked, straying your gaze away from the milkshake in front of you.

Jake had stopped on a dine-in halfway back to Seogwipo, a small parlor just off the interstate that advertised best milkshakes on the whole island! And made you both order not only two — one for each of you, but four, lining them in the middle of the table and sharing.

“Your first kiss,” Jake clarified. “Who was it?”

You weren’t sure if it was the sugar getting into your system, the euphoria of having kissed Jake, and having him sitting across from you, pinkish ear, and ankles resting against yours but you still took a moment too long to comprehend the question.

Was he really asking it or was he testing what you told him on the exhibition?

You pushed the strawberry milkshake back into the line, buying yourself some time.

“You?” you tried.

“No. I meant for real,” he said. “Who was it?”

“It wasn’t even that important,” you said. “It was on a game of truth or dare. I didn’t even like him, but I guess he did as his friend seemed pretty invested in getting us to kiss. He was kinda cute — had this wavy hair and had swimming classes in the afternoons, so I didn’t mind.”

“Did he ask you out after?”

“Yes, asked me to go to one of his swimming competitions.”

“Was he your first boyfriend then?” Jake asked. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, playing with the milkshake he had first chosen with his straw and you could swear, there was a hint of something in his tone, a covetousness about this particular topic.

You reached for his milkshake, pulling it back into the line and giving him another one. It took his attention, but you didn’t look back at him.

“No. I refused him,” you said, and Jake laughed.

“You kissed him and then refused when he asked you out?” he asked. “What a heartbreaker girl.”

“I was such a shitty person, right?” you said. “But I was always so invested in my studies to really think about my romantic life. I barely could fit my lunch between school and extra classes, imagine a boyfriend?”

“Can you fit it now?” Jake asked then. You looked up at him, immediately receiving a raise of eyebrow, shy yet flirtatious — that amusing combination he was, and when he took your hand in his bringing your wrist to his lips, shivers scattered through your skin before he had even continued. “Can you fit me into your life? I promise I will be a good first boyfriend.”

“Yes,” you whispered. The word squeezed out of you, coming as nothing but a tight exhale, but Jake smiled at you then, that one twist of lips that took over his whole face. “I guess I can make some time if it’s you.”

┈

You wondered if it would be awkward then. If the silence would start to stretch on too long, and the spaces between words would be filled with awkwardness — none of you knowing how to deal with this new thing between both of you. But later that night, when you encountered Jake on the space within your bedrooms doors as he walked out of the shower, it was easy to curl your fingers on the front of his t-shirt, allowing him to press you against the wall as he cradled your face and kissed you tantalizingly sweetly.

He pulled away quicker than you would’ve liked it, but it really didn’t matter because when you walked inside your room with your hands clasped coyly behind your back, Jake was already following you in, and when you both tripped onto the mattress of your bed he was already kissing you again. Jake caught your bottom lips between his, pinching enough times for you to open your mouth to him, his tongue pressing against yours and when you felt him leaning on so his chest was pressed against yours, you had this tiny epiphany. You haven’t lied when you told him about your lack of romantic experiences, but you suddenly wondered if you had been too subtle on the fact that you were a virgin.

“Jake,” you called, but he was already collapsing by your side, laying himself above the blankets just like a few nights previously, turning onto his side to look at you, and when you did the same, he pulled you against him, fitting your body to his — tangling you as much as he could into the circle of his warmth. A piece of a never-ending summer.

“Don’t worry, alright?” he whispered. “You are the one in charge — always.”

The shop was busier today. A group of foreigners on a vacation and desiring to learn how to do pottery. You stood there, watching as Jake talked to all the customers, switching between Korean and English as easily as some people breathed.

Jake made a little gesture at his chest, curtsying and gentleman-like as he bowed at a compliment. His dark hair tumbled forward into his eyes, and you wondered if he could get more prince-like.

You stared for a moment too long, and Jake’s gaze fell upon you as if all the gravity of the world was centered on you, and the force of it made you turn around, skin warmer in a way you knew it wasn’t the afternoon heat setting in.

You had stuck a stray brush in your hair to keep it up, allowing the afternoon sun to love the back of your neck, but strands refused to stay and wound up around. Jake approached you from behind, taking the brush from your hair just so he could pull it up again, threading his fingers through your locks before he stacked the brush again and leaned in, curling his arms around you, breathing into the base of your neck.

“What do you think about closing the shop early?” he asked.

“I think you are not taking your shop very seriously,” you said. You didn’t even need to look at him to know he was pouting then, his bottom lip being poured out as he tightened his hold around you.

“C’mon, baby” he whispered. “It has been a few days since we last took something from your list,” he remarked, but what he truly meant was that it had been a few days since you had only been making out on his couch, moving to your bedroom when it became too late, and when his hands slipped beneath your pajama’s shirt, spraying his hands on the bare skin of your waist, he suddenly stopped, laughing it off and kissing you sweetly before he collapsed by your side, and wished you a good night. “Maybe we could go to a bar as I had promised?”

┈

Jake rode you up to the island at sunset, the traffic turning thicker and thicker as he approached Jeju City — with its busy avenues, flashing lights, and more people than you’d seen ever since you had gone out with Euntaek.

When Jake held the bar’s door, placing his hand on the small of your back for you to go in first, you had braced yourself for a darkened room, the intoxicated air, a forced retreat to that night a week ago, and the hazed fear, but instead, you were greeted by neon lights and the electronic chime of arcade games humming beneath that old summer hit everyone knew. The machines lined the walls, from the old Pac-Man to VCR games cramming side by side to make room for the tables, and the wooden bar.

Somewhere a group of friends laughed and you couldn’t help but do the same. Surprise and relief burbling out. Jake, however, only smiled down at you, the lights making him glow peach and tangerine as he held his hand out for you.

Jake guided you to the bar where he traded two twenty-thousand won bills for some coins that he insisted were just enough for you both to have some fun, taking turns at the machines, being lit up by the flashing lights and the shimmer of it all. Your hands brushing, your bodies close together.

Outside Autumn was already approaching, pressing itself against the late July nights and making it a chilly thing but there — it was summer, warm, and heavy, making Jake remove his jacket, rolling the sleeves of his gray shirt absent and carelessly just below his elbows, allowing his bracelets to catch the colorful light of the place as you bet over the games. A drink over Pac-Man, and baskets of fries over Pinball. And when you said you had no idea how to play a shooting game, he stood behind you, his hands above yours as he guided you through. Just as Jake always did whenever he taught you something, but this time, you allowed yourself to lean on his touch, pressing your back against his chest and feeling the solid warmth of his being.

“Will you give me a kiss if I get you to break the record for you?” he asked as if you hadn’t been stolen pecks the whole night — as if you didn’t know the taste of his lips better than anything. But the request made your skin tingle, the night being too blazing, too sweet, and when he smiled into your hair, you nodded at him.

When the game ended, requesting you to input your name as Jake got the highest score you turned to him, the same peach and tangerine light gilding him, and it suddenly felt too strange to be in the middle of all those people. You weren’t sure who pushed first, but both of you were rushing past the tables and back into the summer night. Streetlights glinted off the hoods of parked cars, and the stars hung prettily above, the layered beauty taking you anew. But you only got a glimpse of it before Jake used your connected hands to pull closer to him, leaning on and bottling into the darkness of his height. You tilted your head up. Just enough for your top lip to catch his bottom. And he made it soft and sweet, languid and still tasting like the whiskey of the bourbons he kept on asking whenever you lost and the strawberries you always rewarded him from the bottom of your cocktails.

“Should we go home?” he asked.

And it was what both of you intended to do, but half an hour until you got to Seogwipo. Jake decided to stop at a tiny town that consisted only of an artificially bright gas station and a convenience store to fill his motorcycle. You wandered inside the convenience store as he took care of the motorcycle, almost feeling his gaze on you when you stopped at the cashier, paying for a package of cookies and two ice creams without his minion card. But when you stepped outside he didn’t say anything — Jake only shouldered off his jacket, spreading it on the sidewalk, and gesturing for you to sit down as he took the space by the side of it.

It was quite riveting how your bodies already knew each other. When you sat by his side, Jake soundlessly shifted his arm, pressing his palm on the pavement so you could lean on him, your head resting on his shoulder, and when a breeze came a bit harsher, Jake’s proximity was the only heat in the night. It warmed you, starting from your arms brushing against his until it filled your whole body and you pressed yourself to him, eyes fluttering to the sky. Even as you sat close to the streetlight nothing seemed enough to obliterate the stars. They kept shining above you, creating streams of silver and purple against the darkness.

You couldn’t tell if it was very late or very early. The hours blended on a moment itself and you didn’t want to leave, not in a few weeks, not never. And the sincerity of your own thoughts struck you. Your mother once had told you about a night from her youth years: she was right there — surrounded by her friends in the place she loved, and she knew, even as the years passed, she would always remember and miss it and how lucky and doomed she had been for noticing it while she was still there. And now, you finally comprehend her sentiment. You were still there, but your chest ached at the idea of losing the thread of this night — of losing Jake. You felt yourself saddened by the simple idea of someday that summer becoming just a memory of your youth years.

“I wish I was a painter,” you blurted out. “So I could paint this sky — this place, hold it forever.”

In your periphery, Jake tilted his head, following your gaze to the sky. He barely gave himself a moment before he said: “I can teach you — how to paint. I can teach you.”

┈

And that was how you found yourself in Jake’s garden in the middle of the night, a stack supporting a tiny canvas, and Jake sparing tint cans over the greenish grass, studying each color with a deliberate passion and you got yourself wondering about how it had been for him — finally leave his family’s impositions to live the life he wanted.

“Jake?”

“Yes, baby?”

“What was your favorite subject?” you asked. “In art school.”

“Painting,” he said, not even giving himself a moment to think about it. “I like painting landscapes and anything about nature. There are some weekends that I would drive out of Seoul only for it, but also there was this one semester that we had to do people’s portraits as our grade project — I have to admit I didn’t like it very much.”

“Portraits?”

“Yes, I painted your brother.”

“Was it that bad?” you asked.

“Maybe he wasn’t just the right muse,” he said, immediately stealing a laugh from you. The intensity of it made you throw your head back, closing your eyes as you allowed the sound to whistle through the night and when you straightened yourself back and looked at him, he was watching you, eyes all soft. “But I would like to try again — with you.”

“I would let you,” you said, feeling your cheeks warmer than before and in the rush of the moment, you kept talking. “But you know — I thought pottery would have been your favorite subject.”

“I thought so too, but it reminded me too much of my grandpa, it was hard to sit in the university’s studio and not sorrow not being here.”

“I am sorry,” you said, but he only shrugged, moving his attention back to the paint cans as if it was nothing, but you could see the slight bow of his shoulders, the weight of the mourning he never seemed to allow himself to feel.

Jake passed you a brush and a water cup, and when he rose to meet you, you were already stroking a great amount of water on his cheeks. His skin shimmered too prettily beneath the night sky but he only gasped at you, a momentary thing before his lips twirled on a smile, and it was worth it, even when he reached for another cup.

He ran when you did, feet a little clumsy on the greenish grass of his garden and neither of you really cared what you were doing. The peels of laughter made it worth it, the rush of the summer night on your face, and you had that feeling that was almost sadness once again — you didn’t want this night to ever end. But you were tripping upon an uneven part of his garden, being safe only because Jake finally reached you, his hands sparing onto your hips as he brought you to him. Both of you tumbled into the grass, Jake beneath you, legs tangled in a way you were already used to by the number of times you had made out on the couch.

Your hair fell on him, and he tucked it behind your ears — a fool thing to do because it kept slipping, and falling, tickling his cheeks. But he didn’t mind doing it again and again before he finally decided to simply hold it as he brought you closer to him.

It was a soft kiss, unhurried as both of you just wanted to be there, but then you were pinching at his bottom lips and he shifted both of you, rolling so your back was pressed onto the grass, but you didn’t really complain — you only parted your knees so he could fit better within the cradle of your thighs.

Perhaps it was the night itself making everything a little softer on its edges, but Jake finally allowed himself to reach for your knees hooking his fingers under them so he could bring you closer to him. The solid length of himself against your core and you couldn’t help but moan, the sound escaping through your throat before you could even notice it as you curled your fingers on the front of his shirt.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” he hushed, moving back, but you didn’t let go of his shirt, still twisting your fingers onto it and holding you to him. But he was rushing a hand through his hair. The bar’s heat and the motorcycle helmet had turned it mussed, and it stayed back. He looked panicked like he’d done something wrong — like he’d done something terrible.

“Jake.”

“I am sorry.”

“I want to,” you told him earnestly, your voice a nervous whisper. “I do. I want do everything with you.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” he whispered back. “Alright.”

You almost expected him to laugh it off for tonight, let it go as all the other nights because when he stood up, bringing you with him, he only turned around, placing his hand behind his back, encouraging you to catch up and grab it. You held hands across the garden and into the house, letting go only as you sunk yourself into the entrance seat to remove your shoes but Jake was already bending on a knee in front of you, fingers fumbling through the straps of your high heels and removing them, one at a time. And when he finished he didn’t let you go, curling his fingers on your ankles and bringing you to him.

Your knees parted for him, creating a slot that he took with no ado, allowing your thighs to straddle his ribs.

Jake traced, upper and upper through the skin of your thigh, finding the hem of your dress and hiking it up until he found the curve of your hips and splayed his fingers through.

“Hold on me,” he whispered. “Will you, baby?”

You didn’t even need to think before you finished molding yourself into his chest, arms curling around his neck as his finger sunk on to your skin, holding you so fiercely that you wondered if he was afraid you could simply fade away within the small moments he took to carry you to his bedroom, and sit you at the edge of his bed.

It was far gentler than you ever imagined it would be, worshipful even.

Jake kissed your forehead, then your cheeks. His lips brushed against yours tauntingly before he moved lower, kissing sweetly at the spot under your jaw, smiling against it when you shivered at the feel of him. And when he brushed down the column of your neck, you felt the tip of his tongue, a tiny tease that already got you aching for him.

“We don’t need to do anything you are uncomfortable with, alright?” he asked, moving back so you could catch his gaze, all sincere and earnest. “You ask me to stop, and I will.”

You nodded, and the smile on Jake’s face was like the whole of summer. Everything about him warm, soft, and absolutely intoxicating as he reached up on you — brushing his hands through your ribcage, drawing your dress up to your shoulder, and allowing it to fall somewhere over his bedroom’s floor.

You would have felt embarrassed sitting there, chest bare, panties a simple cotton to match your skin tone because your dress had been too thin, but he was looking at you like you were unreal — something an idealist painter had created in a dream, and you reached for him, fingers curling into the precise place where his hair had grown above the collar of his shirt and tilting him to you, catching his bottom lip on yours, once, twice — enough times to feel brave enough to brush your tongue against it, but Jake was already on it, sliding his tongue against yours.

It was dizzying to be kissed like this. Open-mouthed, and noises swallowed by one another, but Jake didn’t move his lips away from yours, not unless it was to slip his mouth to your body instead, slowly finding the inner curve of your breasts, your ribs, your low abdomen. His tongue swirled against your skin, sucking marks and kissing the bruises he left behind with a smile. You were so close to faltering when he kissed the front of your panties, the tip of his fingers fumbling through the edges of it.

“Is it alright if I take this off?” he asked, you nodded once again, hands tucking at his blankets as you moved a bit further into the edge of his bed, letting him slide your last clothing piece off and to the floor of his bedroom, altogether with your dress.

Your whole body ached to pull him closer, but as heavy as Jake’s gaze was, he was being so gentle with you, so unbelievably gentle. Everything was so willful and unhurried as if he meant to take his precious time — to store every inch of you into his memory and savor it at his own count pace. His hands were almost adoring when he hitched your panties down to your legs, deifying when his fingers dug at your ankles, lifting them to his lips.

“Can I use my mouth?” he asked.

“Jake,” you called, and he would have turned self-conscious if it hadn’t sounded like you tended to call him whenever you wanted to ask something — if it hadn’t sounded like you tended to say please. But it did and he moved into the space between your legs, his stomach pressed to the mattress as he brought your legs to his shoulders, tracing a path of kisses over the inner of your thighs, slowly turning greedy as he approached the place where you needed him the most, and when he finally licked a warm stripe over your folds, you whined at his actions, hands faltering at his blankets and allowing your back to fall into his mattress.

He kept his tongue flat, slow, broad strokes of it going from your entrance to your clit, applying a slight pressure that made you reach for his hair, your fingers tangling on it, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, just enough pressure to make him groan beneath your touch and his hands pried your thighs apart when they began to push against him, rumbling and making you murmur something you yourself couldn’t quite grasp. Your voice broke over the words but Jake smirked against you. He was so lost on how perfectly you looked underneath his control that he failed to ask if he could use his fingers on you, slipping two inside of you with no previous warning and making you arch, head thrown back into the blankets that smelled like him, that perfect combination of flowery soap and oranges, clay and glaze.

It’s not like you had never fingered yourself — you had, coming far enough times all alone, but Jake’s fingers were much thicker and longer than yours, finding all your sweet spots in a way you never could and not to mention how his tongue kept twirling on your clit. You could feel your body coiling tighter and tighter around him with no ado, cunt quivering around the base of his fingers with his every move and when you tilted your hips up at him, he swore, twitching inside of his jeans and moving back only to watch his fingers coming inside of you again and again and again.

His lips parted at the sight, another groan leaving him, eyes hooded and dark as he took you in.

“Hell, you’re so pretty,” he whispered and it almost sounded like he was talking to himself, calming himself down as he tumbled back to you then, knees bending slightly so he could crowd down into you, forehead dropping to yours, both of your breaths hitching as he tried to keep up his pace. “So — so pretty.”

You were sure you gasped his name, gripping on his shirt as your eyes fluttered closed at the feel of your orgasm crashing through your body, and Jake fondled at you, lips pressing against your cheek, as his hands swept through your thighs to soothe you out of your high.

You pushed your face to Jake then, your noses brushing as the reality slowly snuck back in. Seogwipo had always been silent — no matter the time, but tonight not even the breezes seemed current. There was nothing except for your breathing and the sound of your heart thumping against your ears.

“Baby,” he whispered. “Are you alright? I forgot to ask if I could-”

“Jake,” you broke in, and there was it again — his name sounding almost like a plea.

“Tell me what’s it.”

“I want you,” you said, spraying your palm in front of his jeans as if you desired to prove a point. He was painfully hard underneath your touch, releasing a tight cuss at this slight touch. “Please.”

He didn’t care about coming, not really, not when you had given him the opportunity to make you fall apart on his fingers. He could deal with himself quite well later on in the shower just with the memory of it, but then you were slipping your hands through his shirt, curling your fingers on his buttons, and how could he say no to you?

He could give you anything even if you never asked in a heartbeat — in the moment his body took to live from one moment to another.

Your hands met in the middle, opening all of his shirt’s buttons, and allowing Jake to hurl it out and onto his bedroom floor, a silent thud that matched the breathless gasp he released when you reached for him again, fingers spraying through his hips, following the skin of his just exposed abdomen until you had reached for his neck, curling it around the slope curve of it and bringing him back to you.

Jake had far enough experience, a reasonable body count for a graduated university man, but he somehow felt like he was pretty much rediscovering himself with you. He never knew how easy it was to make him falter with a kiss on his throat until you were the one doing it, lips parting against his skin and surely leaving a mark.

He groaned with your doing, the sound of it scattering shivers through your spine and making you feel bold enough to push at the waist of his jeans, fingers slipping past the band of his boxers and pushing it far enough for him to only kick it out. His jeans barely had hit his bedroom floor before his lips were on you again, tongue pressing against yours, and tasting like you still.

“Baby,” he whispered. You folded your legs around his waist at the endearing name, thighs clenching around him, squeezing him almost unconsciously as he crowded into you, one forearm by the side of your head, holding himself over you as he pushed into you.

You moaned at the stretch, the heavy pressure of him filling you and your hand flew to his wrist for some support, fingers curling around him. Jake’s hand shifted beneath your touch, adjusting himself so he could interlace your fingers, giving it the small and reassuring squeeze you knew so well.

“Baby, I need you to talk to me,” he said. “Am I hurting you?”

Jake talked as if he didn’t have his brows knitted and wasn’t patting himself, the breath being torn from him at the feeling of you tight around him, clenching down on his length until he went a bit hazed, but he didn’t dare to move, even if he felt like you were too much under him, softly shaking your head as you tilted yourself up to him, your noses brushing and lips so closely together that when you spoke, he tasted your words.

“It’s alright,” you said. “You can move, it’s alright.”

It was slow at first, the same patience you had watched him having with his creations, slowly and tenderly shaping them up to his confident acknowledgment — when he finally bottomed completely out, he already knew exactly how to move, how to make you tighten around him, and his name to escape from your lips a little bit more frantic. But he was careful with you still, sweet nothings brushing against your temples even as your body came tight around him once again, your hands grabbing at him, desperately trying to hide the fact you were shaking as he continued to move his hips into you.

You whined and he twitched inside of you, grip turning a little tighter and it pulled the breath from you.

Jake came when you did, as defenseless and relinquished as he could be, wrapping his arms around, and holding you until both of you had driven out of your highs. And when he moved to look at you, there were golden stripes painted across his cheeks, the same soft light of when you realized you were in love with him casting a warm glow over his skin and making it harder to let him go.

You didn’t notice a tear had escaped through your eyes until Jake smoothed a thumb over your cheeks, his eyebrows knitting together in worry, but you didn’t allow him to ask what was on his mind, catching his lips on yours, kissing him sweeter than it should’ve been considering you were still naked in his bed, your bodies so mixed up that you couldn’t quite tell where you ended and he began.

“I am fine,” you told him. “I am.”

You just weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with everything you were feeling for him.

The storm hadn’t been forecasted nor expected, a monsoon rolling through the last day of July and catching both of you unprepared from your trip to the convenience store for ice pops.

A gasp escaped through your lips, but you couldn’t confide if it was because of the sudden raindrops kissing your skin or the way Jake pulled you through the rest of the street, using your connected hands to rush you through the side path from the shop to the garden, and into the house.

You laughed as you tripped over the shoes at the entrance hall, but Jake was fast on catching you, leaning you against the wall in order to prevent you both from falling. One of his hands pressed over the curve of your lower back to push you further into him, the line of your bodies pressed together, as the other tangled through your hair, the tip of his fingers finding your nape.

“I want to paint you,” he murmured — blurted out, an admission you weren’t sure he intended to confess, but you caught yourself beaming at him. His voice was all fondness and appreciation. “Can I paint you, baby?” You already knew the answer, but you decided to draw the moment a little longer, tilting your head as if you were considering it. And Jake leaned on you, his lips brushing through the column of your neck, interleaving kisses and pleads, tiny pleases that went down to the neckline of your top, his knees already ready to bend as he planned to go further, but you reached for him, touching his neck, right where his hair grew above the collar of his shirt.

“Alright,” you said. “You can paint me.”

┈

“How do you want me?” you asked, immediately stealing a laugh from Jake.

His room was no brighter than the whole house. The rainy clouds making everything a bit grayish and dim. But he didn’t care about turning the lights on before he reached for a blank canvas prompt on his desk.

He turned back to you, taking that small sliver of skin between your skirt and top, grazing his fingers there. You shivered when he passed through the hem of it, rushing up to your ribcage, your whole body trembling as he brought you as close as he could.

“It’s a dangerous question, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing through yours. “But you are in charge — always.”

You weren’t sure what it was about Jake that caused you to find yourself doing everything you normally thought impossible, but you reached for the back zipper of your skirt, tugging it down until the piece got loose from your waist and fell, pooling onto your feet.

Jake’s breath hitched and stammered, his surprise taking him for a full moment before finally he slipped his hands a bit further, drawing your top out of you.

You sat on the hardwood floor of his room, his sheet barely wrapped around your waist, and leaving a lot of your skin to be bathed by the dim light as you watched Jake giving the first strokes. There was something satisfying about the way he painted, something controlled and beautiful as if the act of painting was an art itself.

Jake looked back at you, and he noticed how closely you were watching him, gaze following the familiar way his fingers curled around the brush, the way he knew the exact amount of pressure he was supposed to use only to make his stocks fluid on the canvas.

“I am starting to regret it,” he sighed.

“Why?”

“You are too pretty. It’s highly distracting.”

Your lips parted to retort, but whatever words you had chosen slipped and slid as he abandoned his brush, reaching for you instead. One of his hands pressed over the curve of your lower back as the other chased for your neck, the tip of his fingers tangling through your hair, and bringing your mouth to his.

His lips parted too, heavy breaths blending as he caught your bottom lips with his once, twice — just enough for you to feel comfortable enough to lick over him, slipping past his lips, and tasting the cherry ice pop he had gotten earlier in the convenience store and the rain still pounding against the windows and resonating with the rhythm of your heart.

Your hands snuck down to his sides, fingers scraping down to the waist of his jeans as you tried to end a distance that didn’t exist anymore. You were too close already, bodies so tangled you weren’t sure which one of you was shivering, but Jake seemed to understand your urgency as his fingers dug into your skin a little harder, pressing you to him, and when you grind against him, he groaned, the sound doing something to you that you couldn’t explain.

“Jake,” you murmured. “Wait.”

“Shit, I am sorry,” he said, hurling away from you. His back met the legs of his desk fast and in a heap, hands fleeing into the air as if he had been caught in a flagrant. “Not today?”

“That’s not it,” you said. “I — I want you to teach me how to touch you.” Although you didn’t give yourself enough time to doubt the wisdom of saying it, you had to take a breath before you spoke, inhaling summer, rainstorms, and Jake — just Jake, and it made the words come a bit weakly, almost too silent for your own ears, and for a moment you doubted he had heard you. But then, Jake stopped, a sharp swallow going into his lungs.

It took him a long time to make sense of your sentence, and when he finally did, it took every ounce of him to not simply rumble you through the floor, kneel before you and touch you — eat you, make up for all the gentleness he had with you on the first time.

He laughed, a bright burst that got you burning, but his own hands were already finding their way back to you, the tip of his fingers brushing a stray lock of your hair to the back of your ears as he moved closer to you again.

“How can I say no to you?” he asked. “Ask me anything and I will give it to you.”

“Anything?”

Jake hummed, leaning in so his nose brushed against the column of your neck. “Ask me the moon and I will paint it for you. Ask me a star and I will capture a whole constellation.”

“I just want you.”

“I am yours.”

You pushed your fingers underneath his shirt, rippling it with goosebumps at your bare touch, but if anything Jake only reached for the collar of it, helping you hurl it out and to the great mess his room was.

He was overwhelmed — he wouldn’t lie. Jake was harder than he remembered ever being, desire and lust laying right next to each other in his heart, each sharpening the other, but he allowed you to take your pace nevertheless, leaning himself against the legs of his desk once again as he watched you — burning you with affection and fondness as he accompanied every move you did, the way the tip of your fingers followed the lines of his abdomen before you finally reached for his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping it, pushing down to his thighs together with his boxers.

You loved the way you made him groan, head thrown back, pulse jumping in his neck as you curled around him, experimentally rolling your thumb through his tip before you started to pump him. You knew you didn’t need to ask if you were doing it right, his whole body was telling you that you were, his hands gripping on your thighs, your waist, rubbing you as if it could prevent him from coming too fast on you, but you did still, leaning on him so when you asked your lips brushed, softly, sweet, and nothing like you were still touching him.

“I feel like you are trying to kill me, baby, but yeah — yeah, you are doing it perfectly.” It was dirty the way he said it, abdomen tightening, groans filling the gaps between words. He sounded wild, unraveled in a way you had never heard him, but it only made you smile at him, pressing the softest peck to his mouth before you raised yourself on your knees. 

“Jake,” you called. “Can I-”

Maybe it had been the way you were already hovering above him, but Jake was fast to catch you, a hand molded to your waist as the other slipped between your thighs, fingers hooking into the lace of your panties, pulling it to the side so you could line him to your entrance, his tip pressed against where you need him the most. 

His breath hitched when you came down on him, whispering your name, pronouncing it with the same deliberate slowness he always had and you couldn’t help but moan at the whole feel of him, palms spreading at the lower of his abdomen, head a bit thrown back and barely giving time before you you started a slow, hard grind on his lap, lifting yourself up and down, dragging your cunt against his pelvis, his length buried deep enough inside you that the base of him caught your clit.

“There is no way,” he murmured. “It’s your first time doing in it.”

“Who else could I have done it with?”

“Some stupid swimmer back in Seoul.” You weren’t sure if it had been because of his saying or your surprise when he rolled both of you through the floor, but you were laughing — laughing so hard that Jake stopped, his hands still hooked on the back of your knees but not quite bringing you to him as he intended.

“You are my only one,” you said.

Only one — not only your first but also the last one to come. And he might have just thought too deeply into it, but he didn’t care. As you looked up at him, dressed in nothing but the remains of light, and the echoes of your laugh, he didn’t care it might be just a temporary truth. He was your only one at that moment, and it was enough to make his breath hitch, heart plumbing inside of his chest.

Jake hiked your legs around his hips, holding himself carefully and sweetly above you as he took your lips, kissing you so when he pushed into you once again, you could feel how much he wanted you in every sharp breath.

His moves were careless this time, gone on all your previous teasing, but he still managed to make you tighten around him, fingers curling on the hair of his nape as your mouth parted against his, his name coming so softly from your lips that he couldn’t help but bury his face into the crook of your neck, eyes squeezed shut, hoping and praying that he could always remember the way you felt coming around him.

Jake whispered your name, a small call that you tried to reply to, but failed, hiccupping and gasping out a laugh when you realized and you didn’t know you were crying until Jake moved back, his thumb pressing against your cheeks, the tip of it barely brushing through your skin as he dried your tears.

“Baby, if you cry every time we have sex I will start being concerned,” he said. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, that’s not it,” you said.

“So what’s it then?”

You felt your lips parting to reply, your body reacting faster than your own mind, but when the words once again didn’t come, you stopped, another hiccup coming through instead.

“Baby,” he called, his voice softer than before. “Remember your first night here? When we went to the roof and you trust me with all your concerns? I said you could rely on me and I mean it still. Just because I am your boyfriend now, it doesn’t mean you can’t share your stuff anymore. I want you to trust me like you did back then. Can you?”

“I don’t want to leave,” you confessed. “Every time we are like this I catch myself a bit sad because — I just don’t want to leave for the United States, for Seoul. I just don’t want to leave you.”

Jake breathed in, a sharp intake that made your cheeks burn, suddenly too embarrassed to even look at him, but as you turned to focus on the canvas prompt against his walls, he reached for you, fingers spraying through your chin and angling you back at him.

“I won’t tell you to stay,” he said. “Not because I don’t want to, baby, or because you can’t. But because I don’t want to take this decision away from you. I don’t want you to look at me in a few months — in a few years, who knows, and say you should have gone.”

“To study abroad is a great opportunity. You have worked your whole life for it although it wasn’t your dream, I don’t even know which university you got in-”

“Havard — it’s the best for law.”

“No way, my baby is a genius,” he said dramatically and immediately stealing a smile from you. “But that only proves my point, it’s a great opportunity to have it on your curriculum.”

“Besides whenever you want to come back Seogwipo is going to be here,” he continued, his voice so soft beneath the rain. “I am telling you from experience.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you going to stay here?” you asked. “It’s just — Seogwipo doesn’t seem the same without you.”

“I will,” he replied. “I will stay here.”

You reached for him, a single finger tracing his cupid’s bow, the soft lines of his lips, before you allowed it to slip to his neck. His skin was hot beneath your touch, and you could feel the very faint rhythm of his pulses.

Jake closed his eyes, leaning in, just a bit further so his parted lips brushed against yours. “I will stay here for you.”

And just like that July melted into August, summer coming closer and closer to an end, but neither of you ever spoke of it. Not in the mornings when Jake started to linger a bit longer before going to prepare breakfast for both of you, his fingers following the lines of your body as if he was well aware that he had you memorized but still — was afraid of someday forgetting. Not when you both stayed at the shop, Korean tourists becoming a less common thing and leaving only a few foreigners to remain. And on the nights when he hugged you from behind as you stood in front of the stove he kissed your shoulders as if he wasn’t sorrowing that another day came to an end — as if the last week hadn’t came yet and the date printed on the reservation ticket you kept hidden on your luggage wasn’t coming closer and closer. His hands always slipped beneath the hem of your clothes, gathering the pieces on his forearms as he sprayed his fingers on your waist to push you further into him.

You could feel his breath, the soft hush of air as he opened his mouth to say something to you, but whatever had it been was stolen and forgotten as the front door was opened, your brother releasing a full curse. Jake stepped back, his hands slipping away from you, and allowing your dress to fall back into its place, but not fast enough for it to not have been noticed.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Jay,” you called, but it was already too late. Jongseong was rushing through the house, grabbing Jake’s t-shirt, twisting the thin material between his fists. He didn’t seem to think about the consequences of his actions — he simply did it, using his grip to push Jake away from you.

They tripped over the house, falling on the small space in front of the maroon couch, your brother above. The sound of their bodies collapsing against the floor was almost imperceptible beneath the sound Jake released when the punch came.

You stopped in the midst of a complaint, but Jake couldn’t blame you. He always imagined what was a fight, the throw of punches all drove in the heat of feelings, but instead, there was just a moment of deadness, his blood rushing to the point where Jongseong had punched him and nothing — absolutely nothing. Even the breezes seemed to have stopped outside.

“Don’t take it personally, I would punch anyone who I caught sneaking his fingers through my sister’s dress,” Jongseong said. Jake opened his mouth to reply but quickly closed it again. Your brother was quivering. Not from his shock, like you or Jake, but from some chained emotion, so Jake stayed still, allowing Jongseong to curl his fights on his t-shirt harder, hurling him from the floor and back into it once, twice — enough times for his anger to start to burn out.

“Shit Jake, couldn’t you choose someone else to hook up with?” he asked. “There aren’t enough girls on this island so you had to go after my sister?”

“Jay, stop it.”

“Stay away from this, baby,” your brother grunted at you. “Actually, even leave the house for a bit.”

“Definitely not.”

“Jay,” Jake called then. Jongseong looked back at him, and it suddenly felt like every other argument they ever had, even though this time there was a growing bruise on the corner of his lips, Jake knew they could counter it. “I am sorry.”

“She is my little sister,” Jongseong said, his tone not coming mad, but tired. “She is so young.”

“I didn’t mean to make it a secret, not because I am hooking up with her. I mean, we-” you forced out a whine, immediately making Jake recollect his thoughts. “I am serious about her.”

“It’s true that she is young and needs me way more than I need her, and maybe it is always going to be like this, but you know? I don’t care, I want her to rely on me because I like her — hell, I love her,” Jake said, his genuine feelings slipping like a breath through his lips. He had pronounced love so — so unconcerned, he didn’t even need to think about it before. And maybe that was it that ceased the last flame of fury on your brother, making him hurl away from Jake, throwing himself on the couch instead.

Jake sat up too, a bit slower due to his growing bruises, but you remained still, Jake’s words humming inside of you.

He loved you. He loved you.

“How long has it been going for?” Jongseong asked.

“A month and a few days,” Jake replied.

“I was here one month ago!”

“Yeah, and it was thanks to you that I finally told baby what I was feeling,” Jake said. “So thank you, bro.”

“Don’t make me punch you again Jake,” he hissed. “Who the fuck is your bro?”

Yet despite the harsh choice of words, your brother’s tone had a bit of a joke on it, something only best friends acknowledged. Somehow they had gone from such a terrible place to a joyful one. And Jake felt an extraordinary rush of relief.

“But you better know where you are going, that girl has been spoiled ever since she was born,” Jongseong said. “She wasn’t even a year and dad was already putting a gold bracelet on her wrist.”

“Hey!”

“I know,” Jake said. “And I can handle a spoiled baby.”

“So it’s already come to this — do as you feel like then — I guess,” Jongseong said, standing up. “I am going to take a shower. Get me a towel and some clothes, I am too lazy to deal with my luggage.”

Neither of you moved until your brother had already closed himself on the bathroom, the water cascading stealing the sound of the breath you shuddered out of you as you rushed to Jake.

You took his chin with the tip of your fingers, tenderly angling him to the living room’s light. The wound was worse than it seemed from afar, bleeding as a darker bruise started to form, and immediately making you frown, eyebrows knitted, lips pressing into a thin line. You reached for it, the tip of your fingers wandering through his skin as if you could erase them with your bare touch.

“I am sorry,” you whispered.

“Why are you asking me sorry? It’s your brother’s doing,” he asked, tilting his head into your palms.

“Exactly, if it wasn’t because of me, Jay wouldn’t have punched you.”

“Jay was mad just because he simply wanted to be, you aren’t the one to blame, baby,” Jake said, but you didn’t seem convinced, so he reached for you too, arms curling around your waist as he brought you closer to him. “Do you think your father will react better or worse than this?”

“Remember when I said I never had a boyfriend before?” you asked. “I guess we will have to find out together.”

He chuckled at your statement, it was a minuscule sound spreading through the night but it seemed to loosen something within both of you and he allowed himself to lean on you, his cheek resting against your hairline.

“Jake?” you called. He hummed at you. “I love you too.”

┈

Later on that night, Jongseong grasped at your door, his knuckles against the wooden piece before he opened a small sliver just for him to catch sight of you.

“Is the small flurry ball here?” he asked.

“Jeonchae?” you asked. “Yes, since you are allergic to cats, we had to close him here.”

“So can you step out to the garden for a bit?” he asked. “I want to talk to you.”

The air had turned misty with the humidity, the grass still damp from the amount of days rain had been washing summer away, so you both only leaned against the wall, head throwing back as both of you watched as the clouds raced by.

“Do you want to go?” he asked then. “To the United States? Do you still want to go?”

“I never did.”

“True,” he sighed. “But there was a time that you accepted it. How are you now?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Jake indirectly told me to go. He said it is a great opportunity and I know it is, but my heart breaks whenever I think of leaving him and this place. I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to study law, but I haven’t called mom and dad saying this because I also know I — I can’t simply stay and build my whole future around Jake, not because I don’t think it will work in the long future, but because—”

“You need to be a person of your own?” Jongseong tried. You weren’t sure if it was the best way to put it, but because you couldn’t find other words you nodded at him.

“I should get a degree, right?”

“You put it in a weird way,” he laughed. “I don’t think it’s something as necessary as breathing if that’s what you are implying. Ever since I started working at dad’s office and taking a few cases I met a lot of people — good people who don’t have a degree and are happy with their lives, and it is what matters in the end isn’t it?”

“I think so.”

“As Jake said, it’s a great opportunity to study abroad, but if you know you are going to be unhappy there is no point in it.” Jongseong sighed then, reaching for your hand and giving a slight squeeze. “I personally think that giving up before even trying won’t do it. Nothing is permanent, baby. Life is so full of possibilities. You can go to the United States and study law, you can go and change your course, or you can simply go and come back in the middle of the semester. Restart in Seoul or even here, there are universities here too. Jeju is a small island, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“Did you search for Jeju’s universities?” you asked.

“Did you not?” your brother teased. “Well, it doesn’t matter. My point is what I told you back when I found out you were here — whatever you decide to do, you have our support, mine, mom’s, dad’s, and now Jake’s.”

“What still feels a bit weird to me,” Jongseong concluded. “I feel disturbed whenever I stop to think carefully about it, but at the same time, it kinda makes sense — you and him. You both are made of the same impossible stuff.”

You weren’t sleeping.

Early on Jongseong had called Jake to his room, forbidding him from spending the night in your room as you both were already used to.

But it was your last night at Seogwipo and your body knew it was a loss to simply let the remaining hours slip into slumber, so when you heard the faint sound of your brother’s snore, you stood up, padding barefoot to Jake’s room.

His door was ajar, as it often was, a bare sliver that only gave you the idea of Jake sitting at the end of his bed. You didn’t need to say anything, gesture anything. With a single glance at your brother, Jake stood up, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

You were already on him, pushing yourself on the tip of your toes, arms curling around his shoulders as you brought him to you.

“I know Jay told you to stay there, but I don’t want to spend my last night away from you,” you whispered.

“I guess it makes things a bit more exciting, doesn’t it?” he asked, but you didn’t reply, giving him a slight push as you let him go, cheeks burning and body suddenly too warm.

It was more playful than you remember it ever being. You moved at the same time, a push and pull of two bodies meeting in the middle. Fingers in hair, hands cupping necks, open-mouth kisses that got you dragging on each other cheeks for breath, and giggles dangerously loud as you made your way to your room. The moment the door was closed, Jake was already reaching for the collar of his t-shirt, hurling it over his head, and taking the single step you had given to reach the bed. A final tug and both of you fell, Jake above you, his hands pawing impatiently over your body, finding the hem of your pajama top and curling on it to slip it off you.

“I need you to be quiet for me, baby,” he whispered. “Will you?”

His hands sprayed over your sides, fingertips moving up through gaps in your ribs before he smoothed across your bare skin. He grazed a thumb over your nipple, leaving it all hard for his mouth to take, his tongue swirling and sucking on it, quickly stealing a moan from you.

You placed the back of your hand against your lips, but not before you had received a warning from him, his teeth pinching you as his fingers hanked deeper into your skin.

“Baby,” Jake warned, but his voice was chaotic, almost as if he was actually hiding his own moan, and you doubted he really cared. He was already slipping further into you, kissing the same path down to your lower abdomen, and curling his fingers on the waist of your pajama shorts, pulling the material down your leg and throwing it away. But as he took your panties off, he put it in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Are you keeping this?” you asked. Jake hummed, already leaning back on you. “I want something too.”

“Anything you want.”

His fingers curled into the back of your knees, lifting your legs over his shoulders, and when he kissed the inner of your thigh, you had to stop, recollecting your thoughts. “A t-shirt?”

“I will let you take all you want in the morning.”

“What about your leather jacket?”

Jake smiled, giving you another kiss. “Fine.”

“You?”

“Do you want to put me in your luggage?” he stopped, looking up at you. And although it had been him that brought this possibility you couldn’t find yourself agreeing — not even as a joke. Jake belonged to Seogwipo, to the greenish hills and the breeze that always smelled like the sea. He belonged to his grandfather’s pottery shop with its earth scent. He lived it, and you could never ask him to let go of something so vital to him.

“No. I want you now — on me.”

“This one is easier,” he agreed.

You didn’t get a chance to reply before Jake was bringing his mouth down on you, a wet press over your folds, his tongue prodding gently until he found your clit between them and making you reach for his hair, your fingers tangling on it, pulling it on its roots, and making him rub his hardened length against the sheets.

“Jake,” you called, voice shaking, and you didn’t need to finish your thoughts. He already knew — moving away only to hover over you, one forearm on the pillow by your head, holding himself over you as the other worked to push his sweatpants away.

“I needed to prepare you,” he justified.

“I am.”

Jake laughed at that, but he didn’t reply — didn’t retort. If anything he took himself in his hand, giving a few hard plumps before he pushed into you.

It took every ounce of you to not moan too loud, hands clinging on his back, parted lips against the skin of his neck, tongue wringing the sound into a sup, but it only proved useless as he was the one groaning then, the whole feeling of you being too much for him.

Jake gave you both a moment, his hand dropping to your waist, the curve of your hips, trailing down to the back of your knee, hooking his fingers underneath as he hitched your leg to his hips.

And when he finally moved it was slow — not with the learning of the first time, your bodies trying to understand the new shape of each other, but it was slow with nothing but the simple unhurriedness, none of you wanting to be nowhere else but there — the night where you were still together and the parting was just a possibility.

Jake pulled all the way to his tip before he pressed in again, and when you arched to him, he took the opportunity to slide a hand over the small of your back, holding you so close to him that you couldn’t tell where your heartbeat ended and his began. And you couldn’t help it anymore, couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to cry, not again — not this time. But when Jake leaned on you, pressing an I love you into your lips, you did.

“Ah, baby,” he whispered, reaching for the stream of tears as he always did in the aftermath.

“I am sorry,” you hushed. “You didn’t-”

“I know,” Jake said. “I don’t want you to leave too.”

“I can come back, right?”

“Whenever you feel like.”

“Next summer — no matter what happens, I will be here next summer.”

“Next summer,” he conquered.

On the morning of your departure, you stood on the curb, your brother and Jake briefly bickering about the arrival of the taxi.

“I could have driven you both,” Jake said as he closed the trunk.

“I know,” Jongseong agreed. It had been your idea, actually — the taxi. You couldn’t bear the idea of making Jake drive all the way back to Seogwipo alone, dragging this longer than you knew both of you could handle.

You watched as they gave that friendly handshake followed by a bump of shoulders before Jake turned to you. The same washed jeans he had been using the whole summer, a white t-shirt, and the morning sun softly bathing over him. Only that now he got a vivid hickey on his neck, pretty much for your brother's dismay, but although Jongseong seemed close to giving Jake another punch this morning, the bruise on the corner of his lips remained the only one.

You held your hand out at him, and he took it as if he was already waiting — wanting it, giving it a brief kiss before he brought it to the back of his neck and pulled you forward to him, the line of your bodies pressed together, your noses bumping.

“I guess that’s it then,” he whispered. And you sobbed at it. It sounded too much like the end, like a closure.

“Jake?”

“Yes, my baby?”

“Thank you for everything, I-” you started, but the words stammered and stumbled, too small for all the things you were feeling inside of you. You had been trying the whole day to not cry, but the moment he curled his arms around you, he once again broke the thin thread keeping you from falling apart, and tears flowed through your eyes, straining your cheeks.

“Ah, baby,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours, and all of sudden you could smell him, although he wasn’t smelling like clay, and it made your heart ache, that sickening sadness that felt bigger than you.

God — how are you supposed to step away when it feels more like home than anything in this world?

Your tears seemed endless, and it took you a while to notice it hadn’t been only your tears rushing through your face, but his.

“I am already missing you,” you confessed

“I am already missing you too.”

“Don’t you dare accept another hopeless girl with a stray cat,” you said.

“This is something only you could do,” he laughed. “Believe in me, but even if it happens, you are my only one — you and Jeonchae are my only ones.”

Although there was a hint of entertainment in his voice, your answer was solemn, “You too,” you said. “You are my only one.”

“Your first and only,” he said, and you smiled at him. You didn’t need to confirm, both of you knew. “Next summer, right?”

“Yes. Next summer.”

From Autumn to the end of the Spring of the next year, you lived in an apartment close to your university’s campus. It was an odd thing that surely wasn’t worth the price. Although the windows caught the streams of the sun from morning to afternoon, the place never seemed to get light enough and never felt exactly warm. The air inside was always soaked with the smell of the never-changing humid weather and the chocolate cookies your door neighbor baked for extra cash.

Your father said you could find a better place and move, he could afford it — he surely could afford it. But the thing was: you knew that it wouldn’t matter. One call to Jake and you knew — this odd apartment or luxurious one, no place would ever make you feel at home like his house did.

“Soon,” Jake whispered every time. “Soon you will be back home.”

And you did. Three hundred forty-nine days later — according to Jake’s count, but you did, and Seogwipo was the same as you remembered.

Exactly one hour and seven minutes away from Jeju City, the bus stopped just a few streets away from Jake’s address — the same pretty road running along the South Sea and that made it easy to stroll along the sidewalk, nothing but the sound of your luggage against the pavement, and the waves, softly crashing against the stones.

Mrs. Choi gasped as she caught sight of you, immediately standing up from the stool placed at her bakery’s door. She rushed at you, meeting you in the middle as her arms curled around you. It was weird that you have gotten closer to her after your departure, almost every other day receiving her audio messages through Jake’s phone as she stopped at his house, leaving just baked bread together with some side dishes and telling you “she was taking care of your boy”. She also occasionally told you about Euntaek, finally getting his life straight and entering a university on the mainland — Busan, which was not his dream goal, but he was at least better than when you came to know him.

“Jake said you were only coming by next week!” she exclaimed then.

“I decided to surprise him.”

“You are going to give him a heart attack, he was counting the days, and telling everyone you were coming back for the summer,” she said, affectionately hitting your shoulders. “But hurry up then, I don’t want to keep you both away. Do you need help with the luggage?”

“No, it’s alright,” you smiled. “Thank you.”

Just as the rest of the island, Jake’s shop remained unchanged. As you looked through the beveled glass you caught sight of the pottery pieces, the same earthy tones you had engraved on your mind, the same table and pottery wheels. There was only one thing different, the canvas you had painted after changing your major from law school to art school and mailed him had been displayed too, leaning on the shelves with a tiny sign informing it wasn’t for sale.

A fluttering of crystal and bells clanked against the door as you pushed it, allowing the summer breeze to rush over the place, the earthy, and pond-mud smell, taking over your senses as Jake turned to you, a polite smile playing on his lips.

It had been ages since you had been there, standing in this pocket of the universe — looking at this exact man without knowing he would become your life mark, forever branching out the before and the after.

No, it had been no time at all.

“Baby,” he gasped, barely giving himself a moment before he rushed to you, his arms involving your waist in a familiarity that made you ache. Jake swirled you, just once — pulling you out of the ground as his nose buried at the side of your neck, trying to inhale every little detail he could before he put you back on your feet and drew himself away, just enough to encounter your gaze.

“Surprise,” you whispered.

Jake shook his head, his smile now taking his whole face. And you couldn’t help but reach for him, a single finger tracing his cupid’s bow, the soft lines of his lips, before you allowed it to slip to his neck. His skin was hot beneath your touch, summer and sunshine always stuck on him.

“Welcome home, baby,” Jake whispered, and the word rattled through your chest, filling you together with the scent of soap and oranges, clay and glaze. Everything about Jake — just Jake.

Yes, you surely were back home.

moth to a flame | psh.

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: like a moth to a flame, you kept coming back to park sunghoon even though his flames can burn you.

wc: 3k

warnings: smut, mention of cheating. dni.

slutofpsh 2024 © all rights reserved.

the continuous slapping of your skins are making a sound so erotic adding to the heat you are feeling with your bodies linked together. the bed squeaked while your hand gripped hardly over the sheets. your eyes shutting tightly because of too much pleasure that sunghoon is making you feel at the moment.

“stay fucking still, pretty.” sunghoon grunts.

"oh my-" you couldn't even finish your sentence as your body starts convulsing after reaching your second orgasm. your mouth slightly hanging open, doesn’t even give a fuck if there's drool coming out. mind too clouded over pleasure as he hit it from the back deliciously.

sunghoon groaned rutting his cock even deeper to your hole as he try to catch up on you. he smirks then bit his lower lip, canine showing then slap your butt once. the view of it jiggling as he hardly thrust turns him even more. he leaned down placing a wet kiss at your shoulder before turning you around, making you lay on your back this time.

your eyes met while you're both catching breaths and the view of him staring down at you, eyes filled with so much lust, just makes your hole twitch in anticipation.

you shake your head when he shamelessly licked his hand before starting to give slow strokes to his dick, aligning it to your entrance once again. hole so wet with your cum mixed together. it felt so dirty, but for some reasons, you like it. you like it so much.

"i c-can't anymore." you whined and hand stretches in attempt to push his hand away. it was no use because he easily shoved it away, eyeing you fiercely for trying to stop him from having his sweet pleasure.

“one more, baby." he says using his husky voice and easily slides in you again, hands gripping your hips so hard that his big veiny hands will surely leave prints.

the sensation of being filled by his thick cock makes your cunt excited, squeezing and suffocating it.

"just one more..." he mumbled, like as if trying to remind himself that you two needs a break too. he follows it with a low grunt as he started to thrust harder and faster again.

you moaned, starting to feel all your energy draining out of you. feeling too much from being overstimulated and exhaustion already kicking in. you two had been at it for hours already and sunghoon's stamina is just crazy. you could never get into his level, but there’s no way to tell him off because damn, does it feels so damn good. so damn good. nothing can ever beat this feeling.

his lips searches for yours and started kissing you messily. his hand gripping tightly over your jaw making you stay still as he devoured your lips. not giving you any chance to pull away, if you even plan on doing so. he bit your lower lip, making a moan errupt softly from it.

“ugh..” lips falls open giving him a clear entrance for his tongue. he didn’t waste any time and let his explores yours, tongues dancing with each other.

sunghoon's a good kisser, very good even. with the lips so perfect it would be such a waste not to put it in good use. your makeout sessions is always great.

but whenever he's so drunk with lust his kisses became so wet and dirty, just how you both love it.

"hmmp-" moan came out muffled because of his lips still attached to yours. a knott started to form in your stomach when he kept hitting the right spots, a sign for yet another delicious orgasm.

“r-right there, hoon! ughn,” you whimpers at the feeling of exploding inside you. “so deep, so deep. fuck.”

he slightly pulls away from your face to chuckle sexily near your ears, nibbling it. "i know baby. hold on," he whispers, and gave your cheek a sweet peck.

his thick brows draws near to each other as he focused to a stable pace that made it even more hard for you to contain your moans. you are starting to see stars from weariness and too much pleasure.

sunghoon just can't stop himself. if you look this hot under him how can he ever refrain himself from burying his cock to your cunt every damn time. you are just so perfect for him, just for him.

"f-fuck, you feel so tight around me... so fucking tight." he growled lowly, one of his hand reaches over your breast fondling it before giving it a suck.

"i'm so c-close, hoon." your grip to his arm tightens.

he gave your sensitive bud one more kiss before he raises his head to look at your face. seeing your face so aroused and so close from passing out just makes him lose his mind. you look so pretty.

"cum with me, baby." and with his command you released. he didn't stopped just yet and leans down to connect his lips with yours.

this time his kisses are slow and more affectionate as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you, painting your insides with his hot cum.

he fell beside you and you're both a panting mess after that. the room fell silent and eye lids are starting to feel heavy, but you are fighting it. this isn’t the right time to pass out here, inside his room. regardless of that thought, none of you said a thing or moved. just trying to go back to your senses after a very intimate and hard fuck.

a phone ringing brought you into your right head space. hearing that it was your ringtone, you pushed yourself up from his bed and searched for your phone in an instant. the space between your thighs hurts a little, but you give it no mind and focused on finding your damn phone.

"jay!" you cleared your throat as you try to sound normal. it felt strained from all the screaming and because of being choked in bed multiple times by sunghoon.

sunghoon sat up from laying down and you can see from your peripheral that he's watching you closely. it made you feel conscious and intimidated, specially now that you aren't fucking him and yet still fully naked. he was always the type of person who makes people feel conscious of themselves. maybe because of his godly visuals or basically everything about him.

you used your shoulder to hold your phone by your ears while gathering your scattered clothes, dressing up in a hurry.

"i just finished my shift, love. where are you? let's meet up and have late dinner." your boyfriend sounded so excited from the other line.

yes, it sounded that fucked up. jay is your boyfriend and you are in bed with someone else. you’re a terrible person.

a string of guilt came into you after hearing his sweet voice. "o-okay, sure! just pick me up at the store near my apartment."

sunghoon stood up and grabbed his sweatpants to wear it. his eyes never left you, he was just silently watching. fighting the urge to talk and ruin something precious for you. he stared with dead eyes, a bitter feeling poisining his whole system.

"alright, i love you too." and ended the call before starting to get your stuff.

he scoffed and put his hand inside his pocket.

"what do you think will my brother feel if he knew you were screaming my name moments before he called you?" he asks taunting.

your jaw clenched and hand hang from getting your coat. it was knife straight towards your chest. and just by thinking about that thought already makes you tremble in fear. you are very much guilty and you know what you've been doing is unforgivable. having him say that was like a slap on your face.

it was wrong to sleep with another men other than your boyfriend, and its even worst that he was his brother. you know this is bad. like fucked up very bad, and yet you just can’t stop yourself from going to sunghoon. you can’t stop falling for those stares and his hot touch. no matter how hard you try to stay away from him, you always go back.

like a moth to a flame, he was forbidden for you. because he’s trouble and he’s bad for you. but just like a moth, you didn’t care. you wanted his fire and so you are both burning, sinfully letting yourselves enjoy the flame you’re never should have shared.

slowly, you faced him and his placid expression was so far from how he looks at you in bed. there was no emotion or anything. just blank.

"hoon, please..." he clicked his tongue at the side of his cheeks before smirking. hearing you beg in bed is one thing, hearing you beg outside of it is another. both have clear effects on him, tho. its driving him out of his mind.

"we already talked about this. we agreed on just casual fucks—" your words hang when he took a step closer to you, making your bodies almost touch. the way your heart reacted with his action like he’s the ownder of it is just crazy.

“you know that's not the case anymore. we both know something else is going on here.”

you teared your gaze away from him, couldn't stand staring at his eyes. it always has its way on you. the way it stares at you just pushed into some kind of trance, like as if you are under his spell.

"i'm leaving." you mumbled and grabbed your bag, but was abruptly stopped when he took a hold of you.

"don't go." his tone almost made you give in, but you know it will just bury you two into the sin that already eating you both alive.

you licked your lips and slowly looked at him. sunghoon clenches his jaw as he stares at your teary eyes. its odd. he never felt this way before. countless girls cried in front of him, but not once did he felt like he wanted to protect them. like he wanted be submit and just lets them have what they want. just you. only you can make him feel like this.

“i l-love your brother...”

stabbed. you are stabbing him straight to his heart, but why are you the one hurting? why does your heart ache for sunghoon? it was illegal enough to sleep with him and it will be even horrible to have feelings for him.

“you do now, huh?” he taunts and tilts his head to the side. the corner of his lips lifts up, eyes not breaking eye contact.

“so what’s this?” he asks, “if you love him why do you keep coming back to me? craving more of me? is that what you call love?” a tear left your eyes when he said those words.

“ahh,” he sighs and acts as if he just put every pieces together. “you love him but the sex is just so boring that’s why you go to me everytime he cannot satisfy you.”

you shoved his hold off of you and shoot him glares. guilty. but you will never let him win like this. jay’s the perfect boyfriend. sweet, thoughtful, loving. everything you wish for a guy to be in a relationship with, he have it. but he seems so sweet and soft towards you that sex is not that thrilling. sunghoon was right. its a little boring. or maybe because you’re just into something else and so afraid to open it with him.

sunghoon’s the complete opposite of his brother. he’s arrogant, a notorious playboy, he’s the type of guy who just a go with the flow, mischievous and always full of himself. he fucks really hard and good too. it slowly became your addiction. the one time mistake was followed by another. and then another. and another. until you had lost count of them.

“what y/n? my sweet brother can’t satisfy you so you come running to me like a slut for my dick—”

“park sunghoon!” the fact that he’s saying all these things just makes you feel even bad. you know he’s a jerk, but it seems like his attitude became worst.

he scoffed with an unamused grin. “what? i’m just telling the truth.” he tilts his head over to the side, smirk growing wider to mask his real emotions.

“he’s so pathetic and boring to the point that he cannot even satisfy his own girlfriend.”

“enough!” you yelled at him.

“you can’t keep this forever.”

“that’s why i’m ending whatever this is right now.” you looked straight to his eyes.

“no you’re not.” his gaze burned at you, jaw clenches as he grabs your arm firmly.

sunghoon wanted to stop himself from saying or doing anything stupid. he isn’t someone who let his emotions control him. when it comes to this game, he’s an expert. he’s never the one to beg or stop someone from cutting whatever this is. he usually just shrugs it off then move to another one.

so why the fuck is he holding you so tight? why does his heart aches so much just by hearing those words from you?

he wanted to convince himself that its his pride and ego that you’re stepping into. that he just really hates losing to his brother. but he knew pretty well its his goddamn heart you are crushing and he’s letting you. sunghoon gave you his heart and doesn’t even care if you stab it until you are satisfied.

you can ruin him. you can ruin everything in him, if that’s how he gets to keep you.

“s-sunghoon,” you resist from his hold which is useless as he was like a stone. its funny how you think you can even break free from him.

he shook his head firmly, “you are not leaving me. no.”

your heart aches and it took everything in you to pull your walls up. the wall you built to barricade your heart to keep it from beating for him.

“i’m so sorry.” you whispered, lips shaking. the words processed inside your mind, but it was too hard for you to say it out loud.

you know it will hurt him and that will probably end whatever this is. it will hurt you as much as it will hurt sunghoon. but you know this is what’s right and you should’ve done that long time ago. before you two gets too attached.

“i love him.”

your words cracks his heart. no, he was already broken. and now that you made that choice, shatters it. his hold from you loosen and it took everything in you to leave him. this is your chance to make things right.

you’re not really yourself while you went back to your apartment to shower and freshen up a bit. sunghoon’s scent are stuck on you, like an alpha male claiming his omega. you shoved him away from your thoughts and just focused on getting ready.

“hi,” you greeted jay with a kiss on his lips after you arrive the restaurant.

he agreed on just waiting for you here since you informed him that you’ll take a while to get ready. this is one of your favorite place to eat and jay always gets you two a reservation whenever you plan to have a date.

“you look tired, love. everything okay?” his worried eyes carefully scan you and strings of guilt once again starts to suffocate you.

a small smile is all you can give him, “just tired from work.” you lied and eyes dropped at the menu placed in front of you.

“did you order already?” you ask trying to switch the topic.

he gently reach for your hand and placed a soft kiss on it, “not yet.” then smiles warmly. his eyes still look worried for you so you tried to assure him that you’re fine.

“let’s order then?” and was about to raise your hand, but he stopped you.

“let’s wait for a few minutes.” then he glanced at his phone.

your brows furrowed, “why?”

he lifts his head and innocent eyes stares right at you, “oh, sunghoon’s around town so he told me he wants to dine with us.”

you can feel your heart thumping hard and ears slowly muffling. shivers and cold sweats runs through your spine.

“w-what?”

he ignored the look on your face and doesn’t take it as a big deal. his eyes shifted towards the entrance and his eyes brightens at the sight of his own brother, walking inside.

“hoon!” he even raised his hand to catch his attention.

sunghoon smirks as he nods his head before starting walking towards your table. you didn’t move and just sat there, uncomfortably. he grins inwardly, watching how nervous you are.

“hi y/n.” he greets meaningfully before sitting at the chair across of you.

you cleared your throat and tries to smile at the man in front of you. just by the look on his face, it was visible that he’s enjoying this very much. he enjoys seeing you so tense.

“hi.” you shortly respond.

sunghoon chuckles before he looks at his brother to greet him with a wide grin.

“it’s good to see you man.” your boyfriend says, very delighted to have a meal with his brother after a long time.

“yeah. same here.”

“you said you want to tell me something?” jay brings up that got you stoned at your position. you hitch your breath as you glance at sunghoon.

jay’s arm rested at the back of your chair and his hand casually caress your arm. it caught sunghoon’s attention and his grin fell for a short period of time. he managed to pull it back and with a clenched teeth he tries to smile.

“later. first, let’s share a meal, shall we?” and he arches his brow sexily before glancing back at you, his words giving a double meaning.

tag-list:

@jeoncarla008 @hongshuaknow

MR. FUCKING BRIGHTSIDE

pairing. slytherin!jake x hufflepuff!fem!reader

summary. although sim jaeyun constantly surrounds himself with douchebags and looks like he could stomp all over a girl’s heart; you knew the real him that was deep inside. but did you really?

genre. hogwarts!au, ANGST, bits of fluff, right person wrong circumstances, forbidden/secret love

warnings. jake can be a bit of an asshole, the insult “mudblood” is used, slytherin gets shitted on as a house (dw, i’m a slytherin 😭)

Sim Jaeyun, or everybody knew him as Jake, the sixth year Slytherin, seeker of his house’s Quidditch team, and nevertheless, charming to every girl that has stepped foot in his proximity.

Half of your friends would disagree—that he was not charming but rather just another slithering snake in the worst possible house at Hogwarts.

Jake’s friend group consisted of three people: Draco Malfoy, Blaise, and Pansy Parkinson. They just so happen to be an insufferable lot, maybe except Blaise who minded his own business half of the time.

“Today you will be working in pairs.” Professor McGonagall states, fixing her glasses as she holds a stroll of paper. “I’ve already decided them, absolutely no changes.”

There’s groans that fill the room, one of whom you recognize as no other than Jake.

“Seriously? I wanted to pair up with Blaise!” He whines, earning a glare from Draco. “What? C’mon Dray, we both know you and I don’t get anything done.”

“Alright,” Professor McGonagall clears her throat. “Blaise Zabini with Nancy Drumswell, Aidan Callaghan with Hermione Granger, Harry Potter with Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy with Pansy Parkinson, and finally, Jaeyun Sim with Y/N L/N.”

You don’t blink when you realize who your partner is. Rather, you just sigh a bit in defeat, coming to the conclusion that you cannot do anything to convince McGonagall to change partners.

“Hey.” Jake plops himself down on the seat next to you, laughing as Draco gives him a shove on the way to his own table.

“Hi.” You murmur, suddenly finding your yellow robe more interesting than him.

“I’ve never been paired with a Hufflepuff before.” He grins, the shit eating grin that weirdly captives your senses. “Are you guys as nice as you claim to be?”

“I don’t know Jaeyun, you tell me.”

Jake’s eyes widen before he lets out a giggle. “Jaeyun? No one ever calls me that anymore.”

You shrug, sliding him the piece of paper with the instructions to your project. “You can stop by the Hufflepuff dormitories at 8, I’ll be done with dinner by then and I’ll open it for you.”

“Sounds like a plan sweetheart.”

You cringe at his words, the obvious disdain on your face makes him laugh even harder.

“I’ll see you then.” He whispers, and just like a movie, stands up as soon as McGonagall dismisses the class, merging into one with his friends.

♡;

Just as the clock struck eight, you heard a knock. Your books, pens, and parchment were spread out in front of you, eagerly waiting to be used.

As you slowly get up to open the door, you’re met face to face with Jake, who entered the room with a confident stride

"Hey there, Y/N," Jake greeted, flashing you a charming smile as he took a seat across from your side of the table.

"Hey," you politely turn his smile. "Ready to tackle this project?"

"Absolutely," he affirmed, pulling out his own notes and spreading them out on the table. "I've got some ideas already. How about you?"

You nodded, slightly impressed by Jake's readiness to dive into the work. "I've been brainstorming as well. Maybe we can combine our ideas and come up with something great."

As the two of you began discussing your approaches to the project, youcouldn't help but notice how articulate and intelligent Jake was when he wasn't surrounded by his usual group of friends. His confidence shone through, but it was paired with a genuine interest in the subject matter that caught you off guard.

"You sure sound different when you’re not around Draco," You remarked.

Jake only chuckled, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. "Yeah, well, I guess I don't always show this side of me around my friends. They have a different idea of what's cool."

You can only nod in understanding, realizing that Jake was more complex than you had initially assumed.

As you continued working, you couldn’t help but find yourself paying closer attention to the small details about him—the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the soft lilt in his voice when he explained a concept, the way his eyes sparkled with passion for the project.

"Thanks for coming, Jake," you say, offering him a genuine smile. "I really enjoyed working with you."

Jake returned your smile, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sent a sudden flutter through your heart. "Anytime, Y/N. I had a great time too."

As you bid each other goodnight, you couldn’t help but suddenly miss his presence, something you didn’t expect to happen with just one session with him.

♡;

In your second studying session, you and Jake found yourselves engrossed in their project once again. This time, you two decided to move to a quiet corner of the library, away from prying eyes and distractions. The Hufflepuff dorms were too crowded, and you knew you’d rather die than step into the Slytherin dormitory as a Hufflepuff.

As you discussed your research findings, you couldn't help but notice how Jake's demeanor had softened since your last meeting. He seemed more relaxed, more open, as if he felt comfortable letting his guard down around you.

Jake suddenly reached across the table to grab a book, his hand brushing against yours in the process. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, leaving you quite literally breathless for a moment. “Here Y/N, I heard this book was good for this particular topic.”

Your eyes met briefly, and you felt your cheeks flush with warmth.

“Thanks,” you murmur, looking down slightly.

Jake smiled back at you, seemingly oblivious to the effect his touch had on you. For a person who charms so much girls, you’d think he know how much his advances affected others.

“No problem, seems like we got a lot done within these 2 days huh?”

"Yeah, it seems so," you reply softly.

Even though it had only been 2 nights, in those quiet moments, away from the prying eyes of their classmates, you had realized just how much you actually enjoyed Jake's company. He wasn't just the annoying Slytherin she had initially pegged him to be—he was kind, intelligent, and surprisingly easy to talk to.

"I guess that's it for tonight," Jake said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Can’t believe they only allow Prefects in the library past ten.”

"Yeah," you groan, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of saying goodbye. "But we'll see each other again soon, right?"

Jake nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Definitely. Let’s just hope Malfoy doesn’t ruin it.”

♡;

As you made your way through the corridors of Hogwarts with Hermione, you spotted Jake surrounded by his Slytherin friends, including Draco and Pansy. Suddenly feeling the wave of confidence at the sight of him, you decided to muster up the courage to approach him.

But as you drew nearer, you noticed a subtle shift in Jake's demeanor. His usual friendly expression hardened, and a smirk spread across his lips as he turned to face you and Hermione.

"Look who it is, boys," Draco says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Little Miss Hufflepuff herself."

Jake and Pansy chuckled, exchanging knowing glances with Draco as if they were in on some inside joke. Your smile faltered, confusion and hurt swirling in your chest as you struggled to make sense of Jake's sudden change in attitude.

"Um, hi, Jaeyun," you replied, voice barely above a whisper as you fought to keep her composure.

"Seriously? Jaeyun? That’s hysterical.” Pansy laughs, as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

“What's the matter, Y/N? Can't find anyone from your own house so you bother our Jake here?” Draco continues to taunt you, his words like daggers aimed straight at your heart. “Or should I say Jaeyun?”

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment as the laughter of Jake's friends echoed in your ears. You had never felt so small, so insignificant to the group in front of you.

“I was hoping to discuss our project.” You say quietly, looking at anyone but Jake.

Hermione could sense your hostility, pulling you close to her side as she gave Draco a snarl.

“Listen Y/N,” Jake says, “all that crap you Hufflepuffs preach about loving each other and expressing feelings is a lie. No one really cares about what you have to say.”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Hermione says, shielding you by putting herself in front of your frame. “What has gotten into you?”

But Jake just shrugged her off, his smirk widening into a sneer. "Mind your own business, mudblood. This doesn't concern you."

Feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you quickly turn on your heel and fled down the corridor, desperate to escape the humiliation of Jake's cruel words.

Had you really been so stupid to place your trust in Sim Jaeyun knowing full well his reputation? By the looks of it, all answers pointed to yes.

♡;

By 7pm, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the surface of the Black Lake just in front of the Slytherin Common Rooms.

“Y/N?” Almost as if he knew exactly where you were, Jake shows up in front of you, making you give him a glare.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," he murmured, his voice tinged with remorse as he avoided your gaze. He takes a seat next to you on the grass, his fingers tracing patterns across them in nervousness. "I messed up back there. I let my pride get the best of me, and I hurt you in the process. I should have stood up for you."

You sighed, your heart heavy with disappointment but softened by Jake's sincerity.

“I don’t get it,” you say. “One moment you’re all kind and sincere around me, and the next, you say all these things like I’m worth nothing.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the air filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds. Then, Jake spoke again, his voice hesitant but earnest. "I guess my friends just have an influence on me that I can’t control. I’m sorry for what I said earlier, you’re one of the kindest people I've ever met, Y/N. I admire that about you."

You slightly smiled, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. "Thank you, Jake. That means a lot to me."

As the sky darkened and stars began to twinkle overhead, the two of you continued to talk, laughter mingling with the night air.

♡;

The next night was one of the more important nights at Hogwarts. Everybody had finished their exams—and the Ravenclaws decided to throw a party at their Commons.

The music throbbed as you entered with Ron Weasley, who, at the sight of his twin brothers, ran towards them. You roll your eyes at his behavior, and start pulsing through the crowded room, a plastic smile plastered on your face.

You notice Jake in the corner, sipping on what looked like a bottle of beer. He exchanged nods and greetings with those around him, his eyes scanning the room for something—someone.

But before you could gawk at him any longer, Draco cut in smoothly, his tone laced with mockery. "Oh, look who decided to show up. Did you bring your Hufflepuff friend to the party, Jake? How charming."

Pansy giggled, her eyes glittering with malice as she looked at you up and down. "I didn't know us Slytherins were into charity work."

“Guys, seriously? Cut it out,” Jake gulps, eyes directly meeting yours.

“He’s right,” Blaise says, and you swear it’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him. “Don’t ruin the party.”

“Whatever.” Pansy throws her hand in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t want to make the Hufflepuff cry.”

Hermione comes to your rescue right after Pansy throws you a glare.

“Piss off.” She says, interlocking her arms with yours.

“Thanks ‘Mione.” You thank her softly as you’re lead away from the lot. “For saving me back there.”

“Always,” she smiles. “Now cmon, I heard Ron’s already drunk!”

You two giggle at that, you letting Hermione lead the way into the crowd of people.

♡;

It’s about 2 hours later and the Ravenclaw party is still loud as ever, filled with with laughter and music.

Despite the Weasley twins making a full ruckus of themselves, your eyes were drawn to a figure slumped in a corner. It was Jake, only this time, he looked uncharacteristically vulnerable, his face pale and contorted with some type of emotion you hadn’t seen before.

Concern etched onto your features, and your body felt itself navigating through the crowd of people until you’re knelt beside him. "Jake? Are you alright? Where’s Draco?”

He lifted his head, and you swore you felt your heart clenched at the sight of his glassy eyes and trembling lips. "I'm fine," he mumbled, but his voice betrayed the lie.

"No, you're not," you reply softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Jake swallowed hard, his gaze flickering with a mix of emotions. "It's... it's nothing," he slurred, but his words lacked conviction.

You stayed silent, sensing he needed to unburden himself. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice raw with emotion. "Do you think I’m good for nothing?”

"What?" You asked gently, your heart sinking as you watched him struggle to form his thoughts.

"I mean look at this, look at me," Jake gestured vaguely, gesturing to the party around the two of you. "This charade I constantly put on. Pretending to be someone I'm not."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Jake trailed off, his breath hitching. "Was it all worth the six years of be pretending to be who I wasn’t? Pretending to be the egoistic charming Slytherin everyone claims to know so well?”

Jake pauses before looking up at you, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. "You know I care about you a lot, right? I like you, a lot.”

“You do?” You say quietly, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes.

“But we just can’t.”

“What?”

“Why not?”

"Because,” Jake's voice cracked, and he looked away. "Because I wish you were in Slytherin."

You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces at his words. You almost knew it then, with a painful realization that you could never compete with the loyalty he felt towards his house and the expectations placed upon him by his housemates.

Tears stung your eyes as you realized there was nothing she could do to change his mind. With a heavy heart, you rose to your feet.

“Well I’m sorry then, Jake.” You say, turning around so he wouldn’t see your tears.

And as you walked away, the echoes of his confession lingered in your mind, haunting your thoughts with the bitter realization that sometimes, love simply wasn't enough.

Spotify Wrapped didn’t have to call me out like this 😭

CASUAL — lando norris (smut, angst, nsfw)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: whatever you and lando have, it's anything but 'casual'. warnings: smut 18+, a LOT of angst, mdni, fingering, oral (f receiving), (situationship?) a/n: i lowkey want chappell roan's casual to be inserted into my brain and OMG this one is too sad

"nah, nah. the two of us... it's complicated, y'know? just a casual thing, honestly."

the words echoed in your mind on the flight from london, replaying as the seatbelt sign dinged off.

casual.

the word had always carried a negative connotation, but hearing him say it made you feel so much worse. it made you feel insignificant, as if the months that had passed meant nothing to him, while it had meant so much more to you.

you were anything but casual.

all those nights, the mornings after, the kisses, the rendezvouses. they meant something, didn't they? you thought they did, at least.

the way he'd look at you when the lights dimmed and his voice would turn soft. the way he'd kiss you as if it was what he was made to do.

he knew every inch of you. every freckle, every curve. he knew you better than he knew the tracks he raced on.

but, then again, lando norris was never known for being reliable.

he was young and wild and carefree, a bachelor to be envied by all. a party boy, a flirt, a ladies' man. he was charming and he knew it.

he was good at making people believe that they were special.

everyone loved him. the oh-so charming lando norris. the young driver who had a bright future ahead of him. he was bound to get whatever he wanted, right?

the first night he touched you, the two of you had come to an agreement—no attachment. he made it clear that he didn't have time for anything serious, but that he would love to have fun with you.

you, of course, had agreed to that.

in the beginning it was nothing. 'accidentally' crashing into each other at parties, accompanying the other into hotel rooms, and then disappearing as soon as the sun rose.

but do these 'no attachments' things ever work? it wasn't even a complete month before the two of you became more and more involved and realised you weren't just having fun.

as you exited the airplane, your heart clenched at the thought. the two of you had never actually said anything, but it was there, hanging in the air, almost suffocating you.

the first time you realised it wasn't just fun, you were in the passenger seat of his mclaren. he was on his knees, big blue eyes staring into yours as he flicked his tongue in you. you were so close, you had been for a while. he could tell. his eyes were locked onto yours, a glint of smugness in them. and then, with the tip of his finger, he brought you over the edge.

after you both came, he had crawled into the driver's seat and smiled at you. his lips glistened, his chin damp, and his hair sticking up in places.

"you look beautiful." he said, a hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"i think i like you." his voice was barely a whisper, and if you hadn't been staring right into his eyes you might've missed what he said.

"yeah, me too." your voice was breathless.

and that was the only time either of you'd ever said anything about it.

was it casual?

then, that one time when you had flown to his family home in the uk and met his parents. they'd welcomed you with open arms and treated you like one of their own, and lando's face had glowed with joy the whole time.

"i still can't believe that lando has such a pretty girlfriend." his mom had said to you, giggling as the two of you shared a bottle of wine.

"mom!" lando had whined from the other room. "can't you just shut up for once?"

"oh, hush! i'm just saying it as it is." she shrugged.

you had blushed furiously at her words, looking down at your feet as you took another sip of the expensive italian wine.

you had thought he would deny the 'girlfriend' title, or at least laugh it off, but he didn't. instead, he grinned like an idiot and you wondered if the wine had gone to his head.

"yeah, guess i got lucky." he'd muttered, and his mom had smiled, nodding knowingly.

when the day ended, you had fallen asleep curled up next to him, his body warmth enveloping you like a blanket.

now, your eyes stung as you walked through the airport, a million thoughts running through your mind.

you'd spent the rest of the week there and it was the best time you'd had in a while. he'd taken you on a day-trip to oxford, but the two of you ended up staying the night at some cottage. he'd held you closer, kissed you harder. you slept together as many times as you could.

fuck, you weren't just casual.

and the time the you woke up in each other's arms, his face buried in your hair, hands wrapped around your waist. he had asked you what your plans for the future were.

"get an apartment in monaco right next to yours so that i can stalk you everyday. binoculars and everything." you had joked.

"really? not gonna say you're going to marry me and have a billion kids and we're gonna grow old together?"

you'd looked up at him, eyebrows raised. and then the two of you had burst out laughing.

"what the fuck, lando. i'm not having a billion kids with you."

he just smirked in response.

or the time when the two of you vacationed in italy with his friends, and at the pier he had introduced you as his 'hotshot pr girl'.

"he's paying me a million dollars to pretend to be his girlfriend because he doesn't like being called a virgin."

"hey!" he'd laughed, nudging you.

"shut up, loser."

and then you'd pushed him into the water.

"i'm never talking to you again." he'd pouted.

"oh yeah, find someone else to have your billion kids with. my uterus will be happy."

or the countless times he would call you in the middle of the night and tell you about his new merch drop, and you'd whine about how it was 2 in the morning and you couldn't give a flying fuck.

and when you had just gotten off the phone with his sister, "flo is such a sweetheart, i love her."

"my sister talks to you more than she talks to me. you know she likes you better, right?" he'd mumbled, looking offended.

"what can i say, i'm such a charmer." you'd said in the most british accent you could muster, and he'd rolled his eyes and shoved your face away.

december came, and cisca invited you to celebrate christmas with them.

"if he doesn't ask you to be his girlfriend, promise me you'll tell him it's over." your best friend has said, looking at you sternly.

you had just sighed in response, shaking your head.

"i'm serious. you don't deserve someone like that. not if he doesn't think you're worth the commitment."

"you're right. i know. i'm just... i'm just scared. i like him so much. i don't know what to do."

the morning of christmas, you'd landed in london and gone straight to his place. he was all dressed up, and you'd almost cried at how gorgeous he looked.

"merry christmas, darling." he'd murmured, and you'd melted at his words. he welcomed you with a kiss, the way he always did.

the day was spent exchanging gifts with his family, watching christmas movies and cuddling under blankets.

his family adored you.

"i'm glad you're here." he said.

"where else would i be?"

"anywhere else."

you smiled at him, and he returned it with a cheshire cat one.

that night, the two of you had been invited to dinner with his parents, and halfway through the meal you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

as you stood there washing your hands, you'd heard the door swing open, and the familiar figure appeared next to you, locking the door behind him.

"lando."

"yeah?"

"what are you doing?"

"i need to wash my hands." he'd shrugged.

you raised a brow at him, looking at him pointedly.

he shrugged again, taking a step towards you.

"you look too good in this dress, can't help it."

you rolled your eyes as he stepped closer to you, fingers about to grasp your waist before you told him to back off.

"what?"

"wash your hands first. didn't you come here to wash your hands? there's no way in hell i'm letting greasy salmon fingers touch me."

and then the two of you had laughed before his lips found yours lips. it felt so natural, the way your body reacted to his touch or the way your lips melted into his.

"lando, we shouldn't." you protested, neck arching as he pressed kisses everwhere.

"shut up." he grabbed your waist before pushing you against the counter, his lips crashing back into yours.

"what happened to your hands? i told you to wash them."

"fuck the hands."

"technically-"

"shut the fuck up." he groaned, dipping a finger between your thighs. "you're dripping. fucking hell."

pulling his fingers out, his knee pushed your thighs apart, spreading your legs apart.

you gasped, shifting your hands as you balanced yourself against the counter. his eyes locked in yours as his finger dragged across your core.

"fuck, baby, you're so pretty." he whispered, eyes digging into yours.

"lando, please."

"please what?" he asked as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your eyes squeezed shut, head leaning against the mirror behind you. "oh, fuck."

"i asked a question."

you were quick to answer, fisting his shirt as his fingers moved inside you. "please fuck me, oh my god."

he smirked before dropping to his knees, spreading your thighs and pressing his tongue onto your clit. you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth sucking at your clit; eyes rolling back.

his hands grabbed your legs, swinging them over his shoulder. hand sprawled over your stomach, pushing you back against the counter.

when his tongue curled into you, brushing that spot he never failed to miss, you couldn't help but let a loud moan escape you.

lando hushed you; tapping your thigh. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando said through heavy breaths before pushing his face back into you.

biting into your lip, your fingers ran through his curls, admiring the sight of his head moving between your thighs.

your moans filled the small bathroom, the sound like music to his ears.

"lando," your voice was shaky, breath hitching as he picked up the pace, his hands pushing your hips down.

he hummed in response, the vibration sending waves throughout your body.

"oh, god, lando. right there, right there. oh fuck."

and then your body was trembling, and you were gripping his hair, his tongue still moving.

you were seeing stars, vision going white as your legs quivered around his face.

"oh, god." you sighed, chest rising and falling as he pulled his fingers out, smirking up at you.

"c'mon baby, give me one more."

it wasn't casual.

now, walking through the terminal, dragging your suitcase behind you, the tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

maybe he said 'casual' just to tell his friends he was still a player. or maybe, he was referring to the fact that the two of you were just friends who hooked up sometimes.

but whatever he meant, it wasn't the truth.

both of you knew it.

casual wasn't the way he held you close during thunderstorms, wasn't the way he'd make sure coffee was the perfect temperature, wasn't the way he'd look at you as if the world stopped turning.

the way he'd stare into your eyes as the lights turned off, the way he'd press a kiss onto your temple, the way he'd say your name.

it wasn't casual.

𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 – 𝟐𝟐

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

⤲ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤲ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐀𝐔, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

⤲ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧...

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: unhinged, jealous!hee is back and better than ever, everyone say "thank you jaeyun" 🤭 ik i haven't replied to asks just yet but ive been quite busy atm, will do once i have the time babies! tysm for everything, i love you gyus sm.🥺 feedback and reblogs are appreciated!!!🩷🧸)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @thvhannie @enhaz1 @kpoprhia @abrazosolorcereza @deobitifull @mixtape-racha @certifiedmoa @jungwon-xo @hoonieluv @enhamysunshines @jaehoonii @pussyslayerhd @ineedsomezzz @neocockthotology @heerinnie @onionzzzs @hee-pster @3amstarlight @xxxxrvexxxx @primroselover @mimikittysblog @iea-tsand @lhspeachie @xiaoderrrr @viagumi @smg-valeria @kells5595 @heeseunghee7 @xrvrqs @ddazed-lhs @heebrry @fakeuwus @dammit-jjk @ivyannemarie @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @s00buwu

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

CHAPTER SEVEN - KONOHA.

WORDS - 3,366.

RATING - G+.

SUMMARY - sarada and suiren sneak out to the hokage mansion.

feedback would be appreciated!

previous chapter - chapter six.

Sarada anxiously breathed through her nose, the older twin had wondered how deep asleep their mother had to be for them to successfully sneak out of their home, verily, Sarada and Suiren had numerous of attempts when they had attempted to creep out of their home just be met with an offended pink-haired woman standing in front of the entrance.

Sarada and Suiren had briefly spoke about how today’s shift must’ve been tiresome for their mother ere they proceeded with their trip towards the Hokage Mansion. As Sarada held herself unsure the girl had yet protectively stood in front of her sister as she had guided them towards the destination.

“I think within this time we can just walk in,” Suiren muttered and as Sarada had shifted her red frames up the bridge of her nose, she had let out a shaky breath.

“I wonder why I agreed to do this,” Sarada responded and quickly, Suiren had shot her sister a look.

“Because we’re sisters, twins specficially and the Water Stone is mine,” Suiren hastily answered and surprised, the short-haired girl had stopped in her tracks and as kickback, Suiren had walked into her.

Annoyed, Suiren had stood up straight as her look had effortlessly expressed her annoyance. “The Water Stone is yours?” Sarada slowly repeated and suspicious, Sarada had fully twisted her gaze towards her sister, arms crossed, curious with her younger sister’s intentions. “I thought the Water Stone belonged to the Land of Water.”

“And I’m the amplifier,” Suiren corrected. “If the Stone wasn’t mine---I’d have no connection to it.”

Easily defeated, Sarada had dropped her shoulders. “You’re right,” and in triumph, Suiren had bounced on her feet, her hands had fell against her sister’s shoulders ere she had pushed Sarada to resume their trip towards the Hokage Mansion.

The rest of walk had been quiet, with brief speeches being thrown between the two sisters, besides the fact that the night had been eerily dark and quiet, which had normally contrasted the scene that usually bustled in Konoha, Sarada had slowly gathered the enthusiasm to get the Stone with her sister, yet it wasn’t like Sarada would turn around and leave her sister to do it on her own. As much as she did not want to do it, she was just as curious and due to that, the older twin had reticently cursed herself for being so indecisive.

Plus, Suiren had been correct, mayhap security had a meeting, but to enter the Hokage Mansion was very easy for the two girls, though, if Suiren had been truthful, Konoha had a thing where it had been too trusting of its citizens.

“What do you want the Stone for?” Sarada questioned and with her presence now beside her older sister, Suiren briefly glanced in the direction of Sarada.

“It’ll help with my powers,” Suiren truthfully responded.

“Water Powers?” Sarada figured and intrigued, she had once more twisted her arms around each other. “What about the other Stones, do you think you’ll need them?”

“There’ll be a moment where I’ll need to get those as well, I don’t understand what the outcome will be,” Suiren said, “but I know it’ll help me with something.”

Comprehensive with Suiren’s claim, Sarada had remained silent and Suiren could feel the uneasy essence breeze from her sister, awkwardly, Suiren has scratched her elbow, a clumsy grin on her face. “Wow, I’m surprised how easy it is for us to freely walk down the mansion,” Suiren mentioned, it had been at least two minutes since the girls had walked down the dimly lit corridors, Suiren had occasionally forgotten how many doors they were in the building, it had reminded the long-haired girl of being in a train speeding past houses.

“Do not jinx it,” Sarada whispered and the second Sarada’s short sentence had left her lips, a tall figure had stood in front of them, a tall man that had carried shoulder-length hair, and had worn the standard join outfit, Suiren had recognised the appearance, the man that had worn his forehead protector like a bandana, chiefly with his trademark toothpick in his mouth with that usual calm look on his face.

Genma.

He was someone who usually worked for the Hokage two seats back, their Godmother, Lady Tsunade, Suiren had thought perhaps he had wanted to work for Lord Naruto now since he was known to be a man who was always on his feet. Though, currently, his calm exterior had been replaced with a hasty scowl.

“What are you two doing here?” Genma asked and caught red-handed, the two girls froze in their spots as the looming figure of the tall being had stalked over them.

Perplexed and stuck on how to explain themselves, Sarada and Suiren had quickly exchanged looks as they reticently debriefed on how to execute their reason.

Eventually confident, Suiren stood up straight as her face twisted into a close and rapacious demeanour. “We should be allowed here since Lord Hokage is like our uncle.”

Stupefied, Genma pulled himself back as he grumbled a few incomprehensible words that lowly expressed his surprise. “I-“

“I promise if you do not get out of my way, I will cause the biggest scene!” Suiren raised, “and I don’t know if you are aware, but I’m very persuasive, Genma, I’ll find way to knock you out of the position and have you forbidden from entering this place again!”

Shocked, both Sarada and Genma lingered in surprised silence---just as Suiren had delivered a dainty toothy smile. The only noise that had articulated was the light sounds that echoed from the clacks of Suiren’s heeled boots, as she swerved right past the older man’s body and resumed her trip to where the Water Stone resided in.

Gently humoured, Sarada quickly turned her face from the man and quickly followed her sister’s footsteps, suddenly at ease on how fun the little trip from their home had become.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

Careful, the two girls had snuck into the room the Water Stone had laid imprisoned in, the room had been dark thus Sarada had been able to observe the light flicker from the stone waved the second it had sensed Suiren’s arrival. Reticent, Sarada remained intrigued, satisfied by the beauty of the object.

“Katsuke was interested in the stone,” Suiren began, and as she had closed the door behind them, Sarada had examined the chakra box the orb had been in, and with curiosity, Sarada had raised her hand to touch the chakra box---to be responded with an effect of ripples, which had caused her hand had quickly bounce off the object.

Amazed, Sarada pressed her impacted hand against her chest. Intrigued with the security that had been placed for it, she had now turned her vision towards her sister. “How are you going to get it out?” Sarada questioned and eagerly, Suiren had walked towards the object.

“There’s so much that you don’t know that’s been going on,” Suiren muttered and interested, Sarada had resumed to listen to her sister’s ramble---as she had patiently anticipated to see what her sister would do, though, before Suiren had done anything, she had turned to look at her sister, her soft eyes now solid and stern. “Promise me Sarada, that whatever you see or hear happen will not be mentioned to anyone else.”

Hesitant with anxiety, Sarada nodded her head. “I promise, I won’t tell anyone else.”

Thus, Suiren had begun to tell Sarada her story that had included Sora. The elements of the story she had been told from Dragon Spirit had been repeated to Sarada who stared at her, eyes wide like a bulb, comprehensive of the burden her sister had currently carried.

“The Water Stone will help with my life source,” Suiren said, and just as Sarada had attempted to inquire Suiren on how she would take the Water Stone, the younger Uchiha had already raised her hand in direct level of the chakra box, eyes pierced with concentration as Suiren pushed herself to think what she had wanted to do. Thus, as reality had bent to her will, Suiren’s hand had slowly entered the chakra box without restriction.

In awe, Sarada’s eyes glistened with surprise and shock as she had observed the circumstance displayed right in front of her. The moment Suiren had fully pulled the orb out of the transparent box, the stone had laid innocently against both of her palms, and the hue and brightness of the item had zapped in luminosity.

Suiren had gasped at the wind-like feeling that had gushed passed her body and through her veins and in reaction to her contact with the stone, her hair began to slowly float along with the other objects in the room, gently, Suiren had been lifted off her feet and mildly, her body had floated in the room, Sarada’s head had shadowed Suiren’s movements and had watched how the glow of the Water Stone had mirrored in Suiren’s eyes.

Blue light had emitted in Suiren’s eyes and as kickback, the atmosphere began to shake, as impact, during the time the power of the stone had inserted inside of her; Sarada had found trouble keeping herself on her feet. The tumbling of the room had vibrated throughout the rest of the building as the ethereal episode had played through Suiren and the second the abilities had been transferred inside the girl’s body a certain blond man had entered the room, alarmed.

The girl had gently landed on her feet and in sync the stone had stopped glowing and the shaking of the building had come to a halt. Too infatuated with what happened the twins hadn’t recognised the tall being who had looked down at them with surprise---until the graceless soft cough had emitted from his mouth and quickly, their heads had snapped towards his direction.

Lord Hokage.

Who had always introduced himself as their uncle, thus in short silent speculation, the girls had wondered how in deep trouble they were in.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

“Entering the building at night without permission, threatening a member of the Hokage Palace, and attempt theft of a vital object---I can expect this from Suiren, but Sarada?” Naruto breathed, “how can you allow your sister to do this?”

Thus, in short remorse, Sarada had anxiously gulped down her anxiety as she puzzled the words she had wanted to use. Though, what she had wanted to say had been cut from the Hokage’s continuous complaint. “And you even allowed Suiren to take the powers from the Water Stone!”

“It’s not like I can give the power back,” Suiren said.

“God---I’m going to get in a lot of trouble with your mother---”

“You can just not tell her,” Suiren suggested and in a brief pause, Naruto shared a look with the long-haired girl who returned with a smile.

Hastily, the man sat up on his seat in deep thought, if he did play along with what Suiren had suggested, there could be many ways the outcome could manifest. “You were being irresponsible with the object,” Naruto said seriously and with how stern the man had sounded there was a quick whiplash of guilt the two girls quickly felt. “You have to tell your mother what you did and if you don’t, I’ll tell her myself.”

As kickback, the two girls gasped as they briskly shared a look with each other. “You’re being unfair!” Suiren cried out as she looked back at him, mild tears had fallen down her cheeks while Sarada placed a comforting hand against her sister’s back.

“I’m so sorry Hokage-Sama, as the older sister I should’ve been more wary,” Sarada apologised and in ponder, Naruto clasped his hands together.

“I won’t tell Sakura if Suiren makes up for it,” Naruto candidly implied and in that second, Suiren’s crocodile tears had come to a stop.

“Why do I have to be the only one to make up for it?” Suiren complained and with a knowing look, Naruto pulled himself to his feet.

“Because I know it was your idea,” he factually concluded and in a brief motion, Suiren folded her arms. “From now on, you have to babysit my daughter Himawari, starting tomorrow.”

It wasn’t like Suiren disliked Himawari, but with the gasp she had let out made it seem like she did; she had raised her hands up in defence and to influence her uncle to make another option but she was soon ushered out of the office as Lord Hokage commented that it was time for them to go back home to theiir mother.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

The moment the house door had been unlocked, it was revealed that a certain pink-haired woman had motioned herself to gather her coat and slippers to search for her twin daughters, yet the moment the creak of the front door had been echoed through the Uchiha home, the matriarch had set herself to be relieved that her two girls were safe.

As she dropped her keys into her coat, Sakura hastily hugged her two girls, more relieved than angry. “Where were you two?!” She exclaimed in sadness and the second Sakura had pulled away from them, hands still on both of their shoulders, green eyes had quickly examined Suiren and Sarada to check for any bruises.

“I caught them having a night-walk,” Naruto answered and as he closed the door behind him, he quickly dusted his sandals against the welcome mat. Verily, Naruto didn’t like lying to his team-mate, but he’d rather not get in trouble with the woman known for her shocking temper. “During her time off missions, Suiren is going to be baby-sitting Himawari.”

Surprised, Sakura pulled her sight to her daughter, her expression agreeable. “It’ll take her mind off it,” Sakura said as she put her coat back onto its hanger and the moment Sakura finished her quick task, she walked towards her blond team-mate while the two girls silently walked towards the sofa.

Within Sakura’s and Naruto’s brief conversation, Suiren gently nudged her elbow into Sarada’s rib, eyes glinted with mischief that had Sarada wonder if there would be an end to her play. “Look,” Suiren whispered as she forcibly made her hand glow blue, in short awe, Sarada quickly covered Suiren’s hands in attempt to make Suiren not catch the attention of their mother.

“Be less obvious,” Sarada hushed and in response Suiren blew a light raspberry.

“She’ll be starting tomorrow,” the girls heard Naruto said and quickly, Suiren peeked her head towards the two adults. “Himawari is a brilliant child, there’ll be no issues,” Naruto winked and as Suiren didn’t utter a word, Sakura gathered the moment to tell the two girls to go back to bed.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

It took Suiren less than five minutes to fall asleep and appear in the place she had dreamt nights before. She had observed that the place had still carried the gloomy redness she had first seen when she had first interacted with the area, but there had been a singular commodity that had changed.

It was warmer, Suiren had been grateful that she did not have to shiver and hug herself for heat thus she focused to look for the boy, as much as a hostile person he displayed himself to be, Suiren had still liked the presence he had given her, perhaps, it was because she knew there had been a more delicate personality that had been hidden under the steel-like shell. Suiren had not really been someone to continue conversing with people who had brought her nothing but rudeness. Though, as she had said before, her dreams had always had meanings and Suiren had been eager to decipher this one.

“Girl?”

Immediately, the girl had jumped, his arrival had been so airy that Suiren, the girl who had been known for her keen sensory hadn’t realised he was around till now. As she had turned to his direction, Suiren had sent him a look that displayed that she had disapproved of what he had just done. “I’m surprised to still see you here,” the boy said.

“It’s not like I wanted to be here,” Suiren replied and sassily, the girl had dropped her hand to her side as she had felt the offended look the boy had given her.

“Get out then.”

“Hmph,” Suiren rolled her eyes. “I just started dreaming, if I leave, I’ll wake up and I’m slumped.”

Silent, the boy had remained still as he had watched Suiren move closer to him, her features racy and undaunted with a hint of delicacy. “Why are you so hostile?” Suiren inquired and as much as her presence had made the boy feel nervous, he had still brought himself to furrow his eyebrows and throw a disdained look.

“Why are you so annoying?”

As a response, Suiren laughed. “The same can be asked to you,” she shrugged and offended he remained silent. His position still remained as before but his eyes shadowed every movement Suiren had made. “Where are you from?” Suiren asked, even though it was an attempt, there was a feeling that had underlined that the boy wouldn’t answer her question.

Annoyed, Suiren rolled her eyes as she strolled to where she had sat in the dream before, she had hugged herself as she pulled her legs against her chest. Quiet, the boy followed her, he still kept his distance but he had positioned himself closer than before. Patient, Suiren gently pressed the back of her head against the wall as she had waited for time to pass by.

“Are you going to sit there and wait for your energy to come back?” The boy asked and miffed, Suiren turned to look at the boy, irked.

“Well since you don’t want to have a normal conversation with me…” she trailed and annoyed, the boy pulled a face.

“We should focus on finding out why you’re here,” the boy countered and with a small tug on her lip, Suiren pulled her hands on top of her knees.

“Don’t you think answering questions about each other would help?” Suiren said, “I’ll go first, my name is Suiren.”

“That’s a pretty name,” he replied, “doesn’t it mean flint man?” He asked and the way his eyes glinted Suiren had understood that he had attempted to pull on her leg.

With a sour look on her face, Suiren turned to look away from him. “It also means lotus flower,” she said and humoured by his own comment, the boy had dryly chuckled at his own joke. “I’m also from Konoha.”

“I heard of that Village,” he commented, “I heard that the people there are known to be too nice.”

Suiren snorted in response, as she lowered her knees against her chest. “Well, I know that you’re hurt, scared and angry,” she listed as she returned her gaze to him and captured the furrowed gaze on his face. “I figured it out because this place symbolises your heart and your mind, it’s really dark and it lacks love here---”

“I’m not scared,” the boy spat and Suiren smiled.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Suiren said.

“I don’t fear anyone,” he continued.

“It’s okay to fear.”

“Who do you think you are?” The boy rudely asked. “Do you think you’re my saviour?!”

Surprised, Suiren threw her head back while a scoff had emerged from the back of her throat. “It wasn’t what I was planning to do---plus, isn’t the man supposed to be like that for the woman?”

Embarrassed, the boy turned his head away from her, unaware of the smirk that had been planted on her face. On the other hand, Suiren had then looked ahead of her. “I’ll be leaving now,” she said and as she pulled herself onto her feet, she prepared herself to leave, the boy peeled his lips separate from each other as he gathered the words to speak to her, but the girl had already left, leaving him alone in the dark abyss.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

♆