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neo-shitty · 2 years

Text

do i wanna know — l.jn

description. in which the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.

pairings: lee jeno x female reader

genre. smut, slight pining, slight fluff, university!au(-ish), just a typical bad boy-good girl!au

warnings. swearing, mentions of alcohol/alcoholism, hair-pulling, slight nipple play, messy sex, oral (m&f receiving), aftercare

word count: 10.4k

playlist: do i wanna know. (the only thing i loved abt writing this)

notes. there was an impulse to repost this yesterday, just in time too. happy jeno day! also i fucking hate this but i hope y’all won’t goodbye

“You have 1 new match.”

The notification sat atop others even long after the thread of flirty messages you’ve exchanged, the last few revealing your location and his final message—the ‘on my way’ haunting you for the past few minutes. The wait was always a double edged sword; you either got stood up or you’d end up having a night you’d simultaneously want to both remember and forget.

There’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, the churn as you downed one shot after. You’ve always had your life planned out before you, whether it be by your parents’ hand or by your own. Somewhere along the line of your second year in university, a chain of uncharted events started happening, derailing every plan you had beforehand and throwing your life into complete chaos. Saying you were lost was an understatement. You were sure you planned your life well enough to avoid all further delays in your career. But one particular prick, a spawn of Satan himself, who came in the form of your Chemistry professor, lived just to make everything harder than they were initially.

And you hated her, but you couldn’t tell her that or they’d be kicking your sorry ass goodbye for the semester. But it seemed like she was telepathic anyway, because when your grades were released at the end of the term, yours missed the passing grade by a few points—making you kiss your dean’s lister dreams goodbye.

It took you a while to internalize that you were now a semester behind your initial plan, your plan of a perfect life pushed back by months on some parts and whole years on others. So you say ‘fuck it’, storming out of your apartment and so began the string of impulsive decisions.

Maybe making decisions half sober wasn’t the best idea but it’s unfathomable to think that the best way to cope with an already derailed plan in life? Was to make even more impulsive decisions that would further worsen the situation via your favorite escape plan—drinking the daylights out of yourself and wishing you’d still make your way home. At the very least, you’d give yourself a pat on the back for making it back alive from an outrageous night and give yourself a false sense of hope that you still had control of the things despite everything going haywire around you.

So when you find yourself at a bar on a school night, where (former) straight-A-overachiever girls like you shouldn’t be, it tips the universe’s balance.

It was obvious that your presence created a stir at the bar. AM was the closest spot to your campus, sitting right at the edge of the radius where alcoholic beverages weren’t allowed to be sold. It was typical; low ceilings, dim lights, smokey haze, alive with the hum of music and the chatter of alcohol laced individuals moving about. A pool table sat at one end of the room and booths sat on the other. Directly in your path was the bar and the empty chair you envisioned yourself spending the rest of the night on. It wasn’t everyday that someone who wasn’t a regular walked into AM and that alone got everyone’s attention—curious glances and hungry stares.

You find out about the latter first when someone finds their way to the elevated seat beside you, with more intentions of getting in your jeans than just getting to know more about you. Your clutch on your phone tightens, regret settling in when you’re finally on the spot you got yourself into. One night, you thought the whole time, listening as the man went about to brag about a life you didn’t give a fuck about. Hook ups were supposed to be relieving. This wasn’t the slightest bit relieving.

Your head spins with the smallest of gestures, so you avoid turning your head and looking around. You’re struggling to find the right words to tell him off and the seconds seem to drag on forever up until someone interrupts from behind you.

“She’s with me.”

You turn your head, vision lagging until you finally face the voice’s owner. Whoever he was, he didn’t look back at you. But he had his phone screen facing you, the familiar match notification right beneath his phone’s analog clock—the very same one you had. He doesn’t acknowledge you first, not even sparing a glance. Instead, he keeps his gaze locked with the man beside him.

“Do you want me to repeat myself?” he asks. His voice is bone-chilling, almost threatening.

The other man looks back, stoic and unmoving, but when the other boy doesn’t back down he falters eventually. Clicking his tongue, he slides off the seat. “Next time you won’t be so lucky, Lee Jeno.” Your eyes follow him as he beelines past the crowd of spectators still looking your way, then out through the exit.

You sighed in relief when he was finally out of the bar and out of sight.

“What’s the school’s golden girl doing at a place like this?” Jeno asks, taking the previous man’s place on the seat beside you.

Behind the counter, the bartender catches his eye and rushes over to pour him a drink, wordless. He presses the cigarette wedged between his fingers on an ashtray, lonely orange sparks dulling into nothing but grey ash and tossed aside. He keeps a respectful distance from you, not too far that you couldn’t hear him over the music, but not close enough to touch. His name rings in your head with familiarity, aware that he was someone who went to the same schools you did, but your thoughts were too hazy to pinpoint when you’d exactly been acquainted.

“The school’s golden girl needs some stress relief because she’s this close,” you raised two fingers, bringing them together but not letting them touch each other, “to dropping out.”

His chuckle is a low rumble out his mouth. “I never pegged you for the type who relieved stress like this,” he says, raising his phone with your exchange of flirtatious messages on the screen.

You weren’t listening anymore. Your thoughts are a flurry of drunken thoughts and impulses. But one thing remained rooted: you wanted to stop worrying about your academic problems for tonight—even just for tonight. So when you lean forward, pressing your lips against his own, Jeno flinches. The kiss came with a force similar to a headbutt’s—a literal smack—and you have a feeling that your bottom lip was torn but you were too scared to check. Sober you would have been appalled by your own actions, pulling you by the hair and dragging you out the bar. Yet you downed an entire bottle by yourself tonight and it was well beyond your capacity but you were that desperate to get the problem out of your head.

Jeno was the one who pulled away, one hand on either side of you to keep you propped up. He doesn’t push you too hard nor too far away, just enough to create a gap between your face and his.

You try to pry your eyes open but he’s nothing but a blur of abstract shapes that seem to change colors every now and then. He, on the other hand, was staring down at you, noticing the faint trace of tears staining your cheeks and your plump lips that had been on his just a few moments ago. He watched your eyes flutter open and shut every now and then but ultimately remaining closed.

Pretty, he thought. You’ve always been pretty in his eyes, even when he could only watch you from afar. You were way out of his league just as much as you thought that he was out of yours. That was the case for being on opposite ends of the same spectrum. You were ambitious and clever; consistently at the top of your class even when you were both younger. You had your life planned out and Jeno wasn’t even sure if he’d make it home the next day.

He had always been content with admiring you from afar—catching a glimpse of you through the doorway when he’d pass by your lecture hall, watching you eat lunch with your friends on the school grounds, just always from a distance and never up this close. But as much as he wanted to feel your lips on his again, it felt wrong.

Snapping himself out of the trance, he shakes his head as if it would magically make the blood rushing to his cheeks disappear.

“Yep, no babe. You’re drunk,” Jeno says, turning your chair so you’d be facing the bar again but keeping a hand on your arm so you wouldn’t fall over.

“I’m not,” you slurred.

A deep chuckle bubbled out of Jeno’s lips, “That’s exactly what a drunk person would say. I’m taking you home.”

“No.”

You say it firmly before you lose the battle of trying to stay awake. Your head falls straight to the counter but it never hits the cold, hard marble. His hand rushes up to catch you, your face hitting his warm hand instead. A glass bottle wobbles, nearly knocked off the counter before his other hand reaches over to grab it.

Thank God for fast reflexes, Jeno thought. At least it’d be easier to take you home without having to argue with you.

You wake up for a moment on the bus ride home, your neck feeling sore from leaning on Jeno’s shoulder but it was better than hitting your head against the glass window every time the bus turned into a new street. Jeno had a hand pressed lightly against your cheek to keep your head from falling off his shoulder. You wanted to thank him for doing you such a favor but the bus’ movement only made you more nauseous than you already were.

By the time you reached the bus stop nearest to your place, the world around you was no longer spinning. Your head still throbbed and your neck felt stiff from leaning too long but thankfully you’ve sobered up to walk on your own.

“Which one is it?” Jeno asked and you pointed at your door as you walked down the hallway of your apartment complex.

He walked you over with his hand still gripping your arm. He wasn’t tugging you harshly nor dragging you to your apartment door. He simply kept his hand there so you wouldn’t accidentally trip and fall over.

“Jeno,” you said when you reached your door. Jeno turned and raised an eyebrow. “Thanks and I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

“T’was nothing,” he assured you. “Next time you drop by AM, don’t go alone. Okay?”

The lock dings as you punch your keycard in. You pushed your door open just enough to let yourself in. You turn around to shut the door behind you but Jeno jams the door with his boot. You find yourself staring up at him.

“Don’t go back there alone, okay?” he said sternly. His eyes find yours and for the first time the whole night, you get a clear look at him even when the hallway lights made your eyes sting with their brightness.

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, a half-drunk half-sober you responded with, “Why? Wouldn’t you be there to save me again?”

He raised an amused brow, staring back at you for a few moments before stepping away from the doorway, never breaking eye contact until you closed the door between you.

You didn’t need to be around long to know who Lee Jeno was.

Back in high school, his name would come up often on the school’s intercom; something about setting an alarm off or bringing alcohol on campus or cutting classes to take his bike out for a spin at the school’s basketball court. You’d hear him walk down the corridors with his footsteps echoing the empty hall as he heads for the school head’s office for the nth time that month alone. He doesn’t come back and eventually things would go quiet. You’d end up believing that they’d gotten rid of him this time. Only to find out a week later that he’d gotten away with it yet again.

Jeno was everything you were taught not to be when you were younger. The boy, more often seen at the bar than inside the walls of a classroom, was known enough that nearly everyone knew a tale about him or two. He was often the talk of the campus and for all the wrong reasons. Surprisingly, he’s more praised for his acts than the opposite.

He was everything you were taught to avoid ever since you were a child but you figured that was easier to say than to carry out, especially when he’s the one who draws closer.

What you had with Jeno? Frankly, you couldn’t answer it either. All you could think about was that night at AM and how things have never been the same since then.

He’d been coming up a lot more than usual. In the back of the lecture hall, across the cafeteria, at the end of the hallway, everywhere. You’re unsure if he had always been there and you’ve only noticed his presence now, or he had never been there at all but he was now. At the car park, in the next class, or just somewhere all the damn time, lingering in the back of your mind and stuck with you like a shadow.

Then he was joining you at your lunch table on the days your friends’ classes overlapped your lunch break, walking you back to your place on the nights you’d stay past sundown at the university library and did all the miniature things that collectibly left a huge impact on you.

But he never said anything about it.

After lunch he’d leave just as quick as he came. When he walks you home, he’d turn around and walk away the second you’re inside. No texts, no calls. Just constantly popping in and out of your life whenever it was convenient for him. He never made it clear what his intentions were, nor what he was doing this for.

With Jeno there was no certainty, as opposed to everything that ever happened in your life. You’re unsure whether he’d stick around for long or disappear the next day. Spontaneous, just as you were that night, and fucking unpredictable. He’d grown on you, you couldn’t deny it. And the surge of emotions you felt welling in your chest whenever he so much as caught your eye in the middle of a crowded hallway, wasn’t something you liked feeling—especially if it was one-sided.

A toss coin dictates your fate on one girl’s night at the end of the semester. The neck of the wine bottle had ended up in your direction for the first time that night and your friends didn’t miss out on the opportunity to ask the big questions.

“So, you and Jeno huh?”

The saucy question is followed by a series of ‘oohs’ and scootches closer, all eager to hear the bit of gossip their friend had been keeping from them.

You feel your blood rush to your cheeks, “I’ve told you a hundred times before, there’s nothing going on between us.”

“You kiss him on one of your drunken adventures without us, he takes you home, he starts acting differently after that and there’s nothing going on between you?” your friend asked, arms crossed in front of her in impatience.

“Nope.”

“Nope or you never asked him?”

You don’t give her an answer. Your silence was enough.

She clicked her tongue, “That’s what I thought. My friend, what you’re playing is a waiting game.”

You sipped a bit of your drink, grimacing at the flavor before saying, “Isn’t he supposed to make the first move?”

“College isn’t a time to be modest, kid. When you see an opportunity, you shoot your shot,” she said as she made a finger gun pointed at another friend of yours, fired, and watched the latter dramatically fall over. “I can’t handle seeing you confused over something crystal clear. You’re supposed to be the smart one here”

“Alright, that’s it,” the latter said, setting her drink back down on the floor of the apartment before fishing out a coin from her pocket. “Heads or tails?”

You purse your lips before taking your pick. “Tails.”

“Heads, you head to AM right now and ask him what the fuck is going on between the both of you. Tails, you get to go on with your little waiting game and we won’t pester you about it any longer.”

Before you have the chance to react, the coin was already doing backflips in mid-air.

��See ‘ya’ was the last thing your friends said when they dropped you off at AM that night. It was a mistake to wear such short clothing on a chilly night. It was a mistake to even be there at all. The air was frigid when you got off, sending goosebumps all over the skin the breeze touched. You tugged your coat closer to your body to preserve the last bits of warmth from the car.

The two-storey building stood before you. The signage—a heartbeat monitor line shaped to make the letters A and M—gleamed brightly overhead. From where you stood, you could hear the music from inside along with the faint laughter of the customers. You pursed your lips, a mannerism you often did when you were caught in a dilemma. Head in or freeze to death.

You didn’t want to die tonight.

Jeno lived on the second floor, which explained why he was seen here more often than elsewhere and why he was your closest match that night. You make a beeline through the crowd and head to the stairwell at the far corner of the bar. The music grew fainter as you climbed up each step, your own heartbeat now loud enough to drown out everything else.

You’ve thought about this night countless times before but now that you were finally here, you couldn’t figure out whether you had too much or too little to say. You wanted to confront him, wanted to ask him to stop confusing you, wanted to confess to him that you were catching feelings, wanted to know if he felt the same way. But you couldn’t find the right words to say it.

Hi, that night was a mistake.

Hi, what am I to you?

Hi, what the fuck do you want from me?

Hi, I think I’m catching feelings for you. Do you feel the same way?

I hope we can both forget about it and you would respect my wishes that you leave me alone. That made sense, you thought, but you might as well leave now instead of pushing through with this ridiculous plan. The point of the whole expedition was to coax the truth out of him, not pile up on the mountain of lies.

No matter how much you denied it, you didn’t want Jeno to leave you alone at all. In fact, you were hoping you’d get some sort of assurance that he’d be sticking around. It was a long shot but you wanted to give it a try.

‘That night was a mistake.’ My ass.

The thing about mistakes was that you normally wouldn’t want to repeat them. Yet, if you had the chance to do-over the past few weeks since that fateful night with Jeno, you’d do it all over again without the slightest hesitation. And in the do-over, the confrontation would be a lot earlier.

You asked yourself when you had become so bold.

You knock thrice, knuckles shaking as they struck the wood. The deafening music from when you entered the bar was nothing but a series of muted beats that shook the floor beneath you. Time stilled as you stood alone in the hallway, your heartbeat erratic and your thoughts racing. What if he didn’t hear you? Was it too soon to knock again.

But your eagerness consumed you, anxiousness at its peak. You couldn’t wait a second longer. The door opens before your fist lands another time and you look up to a familiar face but not the one you were expecting. Donghyuck stood by the doorway with his hand still on the doorknob, leaning against the doorframe as if to block both your view and your way. And to top it all off, he had his brow arched.

You shrug it off. “Is Jeno home?” The demand slips before you could give it any more thought and as the question hangs in the air between you, you think you’re overstepping.

Donghyuck whistled, “Why so serious?” You don’t ignore him out of your snobbish attitude, you were just too unnerved to joke around. “Yeah, he’s inside with the others. Why?”

“I need to talk to him.”

Thankfully, he didn’t feel like meddling in other people’s affairs tonight so he lets you off with no more than a grin. Better that than lengthy questioning.

“Jeno Lee!” he calls, “______’s here.”

Donghyuck pushes the door open further and you finally see everyone else. They were all seated on the sofa, eyes fixed on the game on the TV screen. Only Jeno turns to look at you, his side glance enough for you to rethink your decision.

“Come in,” he says, turning his whole body around so he could rest his chin on the sofa’s back.

Your heart leaps to your throat when you catch him looking at you back. He had one eyebrow arched in amusement and a sly smirk. He patiently waited for you to enter but you didn’t, too nervous to move an inch. Overstepping again, literally this time.

When you still don’t move after a few seconds, mouth opening every now and then only to close it, he turns to his friends. “Alright, boys. Get out.”

At first, they didn't acknowledge him. For someone who owned the place, he didn’t look like he had that much authority. Or at least, that’s how they made it seem. When he told them he meant it, they finally stirred.

Someone speaks up from one of the couches, eyes still glued to the screen, thumb pushing the joystick. “Why don’t the both of you talk it out outside?”

Another boy sits up, kicking the other boy before taking the controller out of his hands. Jaemin, you recognized, sets it down on the center table. “Let’s go.”

“But I just sat back down,” Donghyuck complained.

This time, Jeno is the one who gives him a look. He knows not to cross him, so he purses his lips and gets off the couch. On their way out, the three spared you a few greetings. Some smiled (Donghyuck with a playful grin, Jaemin with a friendly one) while the other didn’t hide their disapproval as he walked past you (Renjun, controller robbed). You shrug it off.

When they finally disappear down the stairwell, you took your first step in.

“You didn’t need to ask them to leave,” you said when you shut the door behind you.

Jeno kept his eyes on you, “As if you’d say a thing if they were here.” He chuckled and you looked down—he was right. You couldn’t even say anything to him alone. How much more if he had company? “Why the sudden visit?” he asked.

His question hung in the air for some time. First, because you were busy taking in the surroundings. His apartment’s base color was white with accents of grey and black which contrasted AM’s dark gloomy atmosphere downstairs. It was twice as large as your apartment and you even shared yours with 4 other people. Second, you didn’t know what to say. Gone were all the dialogues you had planned. For a moment, you even forgot why you were there in the first place.

You stood there in awkward silence, clutching your coat tighter even when it wasn’t that cold in his apartment. You were nervous and conscious and seeing Jeno staring at you from a few feet away made it worse. You can feel him growing more impatient by the second. In the back of your head you could hear him say, ‘If you have nothing good to say, stop wasting my time.’ It was embarrassing in itself. Even more so when he made his friends leave just to accommodate you. You remember Renjun’s death glare in the back of your mind.

You had to start somewhere. All of this started somewhere.

“About that night,” you said but you trailed off eventually.

The confrontation scene was a lot better in your head. It was easier to plan out than to carry out. In your mind, it was smart and quick-witted. Out loud, you sounded awfully ridiculous. Heck, you couldn’t even get past the first three words.

Jeno scoffed, “What? Are you gonna tell me that night was a mistake and we should just forget about it?” he paused, catching the moment you looked up to meet his gaze. “Hmm?”

Your mind short-circuits at his reply, flinching, the same way it would whenever you were up on a podium of a presentation. But there’s only one pair of eyes staring at you and yet somehow it was enough to strike the fear a hundred would. They were Jeno’s and he stared at you like you were see through, and no amount of effort to cover up would keep you hidden from him. You part your lips to say nothing, your words falling short at the back of your throat—they don’t even hang on the tip of your tongue.

“Because clearly you haven’t.”

Finally, he looked away. You wanted to sigh in relief but the room was quiet enough that he’d hear a pindrop. Even then, with what little pride you had to spare, you didn’t want him to see just how much leverage he had over you, to see how his sly tactics worked. You tried to keep yourself together, putting up a strong front with the lack of eye contact. “Not with you popping in and out of my life every now and then. What’s up with that?”

He rose off the couch. His upper body was devoid of any clothing so when he stretched from sitting too long, it was hard to keep your eyes off of him. He was lean but he kept his body in condition. He winded his shoulders, flexing the muscles on his back and on his upper arm. You looked away when he turned.

“So you noticed?” he asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice and you feel your cheeks heat up. He caught you. “Don’t be too conscious, you’re free to look. Promo’s exclusive to you.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention elsewhere. “Fuckboy,” you uttered under your breath. “Who wouldn’t notice?”

“You seemed like you didn’t,” he answered, cleaning up the mess the boys left behind. “Ignoring me when everyone else was looking.”

The teasing was relentless but you were growing impatient too. “I don’t have time for this, Jeno. What the hell do you want?”

“You.”

When you spun around he was leaning against the kitchen counter, loading the plates into the dishwasher beneath it. He still had a smirk plastered on his lips and it frustrated you. He countered every question you had with words that would turn the tables on you. You came here to do the questioning but it felt more like you were on the hot seat. You were wandering in uncharted waters like a lost boat in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle. You were aware of the danger but you were letting your curiosity get the better of you. Like walking a tightrope with unstable harnesses, like a moth drawn to flickering candle light.

“I’m serious,” you dismissed him.

“So am I.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Jeno laughed like it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. “And you like me anyway.”

You bit your lip, glad you had your back turned to him or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were getting. “What makes you so sure?”

“The fact that you’re here in my room confronting me about it,” he answered. “If I didn’t have any sort of effect on you, you wouldn’t be here at all.”

“My friends made me do this,” you defended yourself.

“But your friends would never make you do something you didn’t want to do.”

The tables have definitely turned now and you didn’t like it. You lost the upperhand, or maybe you never had it in the first place. It was as if he knew all your cards from the start and he took the liberty to excruciatingly drag out the part where he tells you that he’d known everything.

You turned, defeated and embarrassed that you’ve completely fallen into his trap. “Why are you doing this?”

“This?” he asked, his annoying smirk still on his lips. “You’re in my apartment.”

“This, whole thing!” you burst out, throwing your arms in the air in exasperation. “Why did you start acting differently after the kiss? What’s with all the mixed signals? I just came here to ask you why you’re doing all the shit you’re doing because it’s so fucking confusing. Like do you fucking like me or not?”

The million-dollar question slips out of your tongue faster than you can even register it. You’re breathless when you stop talking and you only realize how loud you were talking when the apartment falls silent again.

Across the room, Jeno stashes the last of the glass plates into the dishwasher before kicking the metal door closed. He leaned against the counter with his hands on top to support his upper body. “So you remembered that we kissed?”

It was the last straw for you. You rolled your eyes, “You know what, forget it.” You spun on your heel, marching back the way you came. A part of you wanted to remain calm and pester him until you got the answers you came for. But you were fuming with embarrassment. You wanted to slap yourself for even thinking that maybe all those gestures meant something. It obviously didn’t. In fact, you wondered why you never thought that he could’ve done that to a hundred other girls before you.

Stupid.

You reach the door in seconds, grabbing the metal doorknob to swing it open. It opens by a few centimeters before it’s slammed back shut. The knob slips out of your grasp, so you let your arm fall to your side instead of letting it hang awkwardly in midair.

You could feel Jeno behind you, his breath fanning your face ever so slightly. He had one hand pressed against the door.

“Who said you were going anywhere?” he asked.

You turned around to face him, leaning against the door so you’d put some space between the both of you. You tilted your head so you’d manage to look him in the eye, “You wouldn’t answer my questions. What’s the point of staying here?”

Jeno looked down at you. His eyes shifted every now and then as if he were studying your features. You couldn’t help but feel conscious, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from either. You found it hard to level your breathing with the proximity. This was the closest he’d ever been since the night you kissed him.

Your cheeks flared up when his skin brushed yours lightly. “Fine, I’ll answer. But answer mine.” He waited for you to nod before he continued. “You remembered that we kissed?”

You remember the feeling of his lips on yours even in your drunken haze. His chapped lips, the scent of burnt cigarettes and the accidental teeth clashing. You would’ve dropped anything to let that night go the way you had originally planned it to. “Yeah.”

Jeno leaned closer and you finally broke eye contact. Your eyes trailed from his lips down to his jawline all the way down to his bare torso. Seeing you flustered made him amused, his lips forming a playful smirk again. He lifts his other hand, running the back of his palm down the side of your face. He traces your jaw with one finger before resting it beneath your chin. He tilts your head up so you’d stare up at him again.

“Do you know that I want a do-over of that night?” he whispered, his voice raspy and low. He stared at you with hooded lids and your heartbeat spikes. The pit of your stomach stirs as you feel your own arousal begin to form. Every mental alarm system you set for yourself to avoid situations like these were blaring. You shouldn’t be here, you should be home. You shouldn’t be turned on by sweet lies.

Yet here you were. You balled your fists to suppress the last bits of your self control. Your fingers were tingling with the need to run them up his bare chest and down his muscled arms. You longed for his touch for way too long to hold back now. You wanted to feel his lips on yours again. You wanted to know what you missed out on.

What was there to lose? Your life was going haywire anyway already. Might as well make the most of it now.

Your response comes before you can ponder too much about it. “And you think I don’t?”

It was his turn to be taken off guard. You see the surprise in his eyes for a moment before they’re clouded again. He wasn’t looking into your eyes anymore.

And like the first time it happened, you pressed your lips on his. This time he doesn’t push you away. It’s when both his hands make their way to the sides of your neck that your lips finally part. He takes the chance to slip his tongue in. The kiss is sloppy and messy, with you just letting him take control. Then he pulls away to let you breathe, but the night was young and he was far from done with you.

Your back hits the back of the door when he kisses you again, his leg slightly forward and wedged between both of yours—parting them slightly. Your hands finally find their way to his body, running them up his chest and feeling the outline of his muscles on your fingertips. You felt Jeno lose his balance when you pulled him closer, pressing deeper into the kiss and groaning. His thigh brushes you where you’re sensitive. Only then do you feel how aroused you were and you mutter a silent prayer he doesn’t prey on the knowledge of it.

But you could already feel him smirking into the kiss, tensing the muscles on his thigh on purpose and making you wobble where you stood. Your legs closed on instinct, but it only made you more pathetic than you’d originally let on.

His hands clutch your coat, pulling it off your body before tossing it aside. His hands run down the side of your body, settling on the curve of your waist to pull you closer. As if you could get any closer than you already were. But no, he pushes you down, and electricity courses across your skin as you grind on his thigh. A moan escapes your lips only for him to catch it before he begins nipping at the skin on your neck.

“Something wrong?” he asked, licking his lips after leaving his first few marks on your neck.

Your own hooded, droopy eyes told him everything. He knew better than to let you walk with how weak your legs were.

“Hop on,” he says and you oblige, wrapping your legs around his lower torso. Your dress lifts and reveals the rest of your thigh that had been hidden earlier. He ran his hand up your thighs, supporting your weight as he carried you somewhere more comfortable. You find yourself burying your face in the crook of his neck, sucking on the skin and leaving your own marks behind. He tilts his head to give you more room and hums—the vibrations reverberating just enough that you feel it on your lips.

When you reach his bedroom, he locks the door behind him. He sets you down a foot away from the edge of the bed. You wobble for a bit before feeling the strength return to your legs. Jeno turned his head suddenly, capturing your lips again. Your head tilts back at the sudden pressure but his hand makes it to the back of your neck again.

You take a step forward and his legs hit the edge of the bed, making him fall onto the mattress behind him. He takes one hand off you to support himself, keeping himself in an upright sitting position. His other hand snakes around your waist as you climb unto him. Your legs were on either side of him—resting on the mattress, while you took your place on his lap.

It’s your turn to smirk when you feel his own struggle beneath you. He groans into the kiss when your clothed mound brushes against his bulge. He pulls away and leans back, taking a moment to admire the view in front of him. You still had your arms hooked around his neck and you looked at him back. There’s a smear of lipstick right where your smirk ended.

Jeno unwinds his arm around your waist to reach for your face, brushing his thumb against the skin where the smear was before he rests it over your lips. You grab his arm, keeping his hand where it is when he tries to retract it. He presses down on your bottom lip, marveling at how soft and plump they are. Your lips part at his touch, his thumb disappearing behind your lips as you suck on it.

You shut your eyes, feigning innocence even when you feel him pulse beneath you and it only heightens your own arousal. You bob your head once, letting his finger go only to catch him looking at you—hypnotized. Feeling cheeky, you kiss his thumb to catch his attention. It works and his eyes finally meet yours.

“You should’ve said you wanted me this bad,” he says ironically, staring at you with hooded eyes.

You raised a brow, “I’m the one who wanted you? I wasn’t the one trying to get your attention.”

“I wasn’t the one who drunkenly kissed you,” Jeno rebuts.

“As you said, I was drunk.”

“Drunken actions are sober thoughts.”

You rolled your eyes before staring down at him again. You run a hand through his hair again before resting it on his shoulder. Pushing down, you lift yourself off his thighs. “Are we really going to argue about this? Don’t you have other problems?” you asked, tilting your head before lowering yourself on him again. He heaves a deep breath in and you catch his eyes rolling back for a moment before he stares at his clothed manhood beneath you. You follow his gaze and see the results of your antics. “Need some help with that?”

Jeno meets your eyes and gives you a wordless nod.

You smile, hopping off the bed. You slip between his legs, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He watches you take your place, tensing when he feels your hand run up his thigh. Your hand doesn’t waste the opportunity to rub him through the material.

Jeno clicks his tongue, “Golden girl’s a fucking tease? That’d make a headline.”

You only replied with a smile, flattered at the side comment. Your hands reach the garter of his sweatpants. Hooking it with two fingers each hand, you drag the material down all the way to his ankles along with his boxers. His member stood tall and erect on his lower abdomen. He wraps a hand around it, moving his hand slowly up and down. White substance leaked through his slit, the beautiful result of your endless teasing from earlier. The sight of it makes your own arousal pool unto your underwear, you worry the whole undergarment is too soiled now to be used later on your way home.

You stifle a laugh and he raises an eyebrow, “Proud?”

You shrug playfully, “Maybe.”

“Now, suck it,” he says nonchalantly which makes you perk up your own brow.

“What if I don’t want to?” you ask, resting your arms on either leg of his.

He rubbed his thumb against the slit of his shaft’s head, smearing it with pre-cum which he later brushed on your lip—hinting at the teasing you did earlier. “Sure, you don’t. When he puts his hand away, you lick your lower lip. The substance is salty on your tongue and there’s more of it still leaking out of his member. There will be strings of it if you do him good.

You move closer, lining your face up with the head. Your eyes meet when you look up to see how he looked from where you were. It’s now your hand wrapped around his pulsing member. His pre-cum alone is enough to lubricate your palm, making it easier for you to move your hand up and down. A groan escapes his lips when you run your own thumb on his slit, pressing down on his most sensitive area.

You lap your tongue against the side of his shaft, tasting more of the white substance on your tongue and it makes your mouth water. You reach the tip of his head and he watches eagerly as you part your lips to take him in. His head reels back and a low groan escapes his mouth as you close around him. You feel him at the back of your throat and when you’re close to gagging you pull yourself up, sucking him all the way up with your mouth vacuumed. When your throat recovers, you take him in again, repeating the process while slowly picking up your own momentum.

Jeno’s hand reaches over to you, collecting strands of your hair that fell off your shoulder whenever you lowered your mouth. You mistake it as a sweet gesture—an act of kindness in the midst of the heat—until he gathers all the hair up behind your head to use it as a grip.

He utters your name—his voice coming in the form of a raspy, breathless whisper. You hum in response, slowing down to hear him out. His hand rests idly on top of your head. “If it’s too much let me know.”

You manage to give him a nod and brace yourself for immense hair tugging and relentless pushing on the back of your head so you’ll take his dick faster. But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he tugs once on your hair and keeps you in place—your mouth a mere centimeter away from the end of his dick. Jeno thrusts into your mouth without warning. The tip hits the back of your throat making you gag but it’s gone before your throat can tighten.

“Baby,” he calls out. When you don’t look up immediately, he reaches for your face. His touch is warm against your cool skin. “Can you take it? If you can’t then we’ll stop.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” you answered.

His grip on your hair tightens again but he lets you take him in for a few sucks before he’s thrusting up to meet you every time you bobbed your head. Your fingernails dig into his thighs as he picks up the pace. You feel yourself gagging but your mind is too clouded with Jeno’s groans as his orgasm nears. You feel his thighs begin to shake beneath you, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy. He barely gives you any time to breathe anymore but you understand his desperation to release. He thrusts one last time to shoot his load deep in your throat, pushing your head down so you’ll take all of it. But there’s only so much you can take.

The sticky substance drips off the side of your mouth and onto your chest and you look up at Jeno imploringly. But he isn’t looking at you, he had his head leaned back as he relished in his release. His grip on your hair loosens at last and you feel your neck relax. You finally swallow to give your mouth a bit more room before proceeding to suck him again until his senses are back to normal again.

He was still panting when he was made aware of your presence again. You were still licking the sides of his shaft when he tried to get your attention. He tugged you upward when your lips finally left his still-erect member.

“You did so well,” he slurs, barely comprehensible.

The remark you were about the reply is muffled when he pulls you down to kiss you. You nearly fall onto his lap again but you’re able to hold yourself upright. Instead, he guides you onto the mattress. He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist and his other hand on the back of your head, as he lets you fall onto the sheets beside him. He doesn’t break the kiss, not even when your places are flipped.

You were lying on the sheets, back arched until Jeno decided to pull his arm away. You were caged by him—lying between his legs with his hands on either side of the bed beside you. You kept your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss.

Jeno’s hands find their way to your body. Your breasts fit snugly in his hands, one for each one. He gives them a squeeze, earning a muffled moan from you. He removes your arms from the back of his neck so he could slip the fabric from your off-shoulder dress off. When he successfully does so, he tugs down on the remaining cloth covering your chest. Your dress is left to rest on your abdomen.

He only breaks the kiss when he starts to move lower. He begins to nip at the skin by your jawline, down your neck, leading down to your collarbones. When his lips finally reach your breasts, he takes his sweet time to play. He takes one in his mouth and the other in his palm. Your back arches off the bed when his tongue flicks your nipple, while his other hand draws circles around the other. The sensation sends goosebumps all over your skin. You feel your arousal drip, you were starting to think you’ve started to stain the sheets now too.

You yearn for contact when his lips leave your body entirely. You feel his hands run down the side of your waist and then your hip. They end up on the ends of your dress and he brings the fabric up, exposing the rest of your thighs that were kept hidden. He catches sight of the growing stain on the thin fabric.

His fingers wander over to where your crotch is. “How long have you been holding this in, hmm?” he asked, pressing his hand down on your folds before rubbing you through the fabric.

You jolt on contact, already feeling sensitive from earlier events. You know Jeno doesn’t plan on stopping your agony any time sooner, not with all the teasing you’ve done earlier. A moan escapes your lips when he starts drawing circles around your nub and Jeno would be lying if he said he didn’t like the sound of it. The cloth rubbing against you was only further soiled by his actions.

The fabric was drenched where he touched it and the thrill of knowing he was the one responsible for the mess you’ve made just made him more excited—evident in the throbbing of his cock even when he’d just released in your mouth.

Your breathing becomes uneven as he stimulates you even more. You find yourself grabbing onto Jeno’s arms, your back arching off the mattress every time he rubbed a bit harder. Your hips move to match his movements, thrusting up to meet him everytime he brings his fingers down further.

“You like that don’t you?” he asked, feeling you throb in his palm.

You were in too much pleasure to even manage to say a single ‘yes’ without moaning. You mumble an ‘mhm’ between breaths in reply.

“Mhm?” he echoes, setting the fabric aside and swiping two fingers through your wet folds. His fingers easily slip through, coated in the substance that’s been gushing out of you since this heated thing started. He continued making circles around your nub—the direct contact making you more dizzy than earlier.

“Jeno.” His name leaves your lips as a moan.

He looks up and one look at you makes the thoughts in his head swirl. You gripped his arms tighter every time he rubbed faster. Your teeth kept your bottom lip clipped between them as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He lifts himself off of you, moving back until his face was right before your core. His hot breath fanned your folds, sending a wave of goosebumps up your body. His lips meet yours. Your breathing hitches on your throat, becoming more and more uneven as his tongue flattens and licks up every bit of your arousal.

“Jeno, please,” you beg as you tried your best not to rub yourself on his open mouth.

“Please what?” he asks, but you don’t get to answer because he licks the most sensitive part of you and your mind goes blank.

He had one finger parting your folds enough to make room for his tongue. Something tells you this wasn’t his first time. Nobody wouldn’t have known that all thrusts and no play wasn’t the way to go with women. His tongue sucks on the skin by your bundle of folds sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. His antics make it hard for you to even have time to breathe.

Your orgasm draws closer with every flick of his tongue against your bud. He notices the way your breathing rushes. Your mouth hangs open, your back arched off the mattress and your hips thrust up but Jeno holds you down.

“Fuck. I’m close.”

He doesn’t answer just licking and sucking just like you had been when you were the one between his legs. Your legs begin to shake as you feel your orgasm ripping through you—a lot more satisfying than usual due to the lengthy build up. Your legs close due to the overstimulation when Jeno doesn’t stop, keeping his face caged between your thighs. He pulls away, gripping your left thigh and kissing it. Your senses were still muffled from your release but you can see his lips moving as if he were saying sweet things.

His hand traces your thigh before he rests it on your mound—red from the simulation and throbbing after your release. He parts your folds with his fingers before pushing two digits into your hole.

Your legs go slack, parting when he pushes further into you. When he pulls out, the white substance from your release follows—dripping down your lips and unto the sheets beneath you. He basks in the sight and the mess he’d made of you.

Jeno comes up to meet you again, wedged between your legs and his member brushing against your thigh as he moves. He turned your head so you’d face him again. He leans down to kiss you, the taste of your own arousal still present on his lips.

The kiss is passionate as opposed to every lust-driven thing that happened prior to it. There is no rash teeth-clashing, just feeling his lips on yours and the occasional slip of his tongue into the area of your mouth. Your limbs hook around him, drawing him closer. The kiss lasts for a while until he notices that you were both running out of air.

He pulls away, looking down at you with drowsy eyes. “I’ve loved you long before you even noticed.”

You fight the urge to make a clever remark—that what you had between you was nothing but an illusion in his head brought about by the hormones triggered while in bed. But you bite your tongue and don’t continue. “If you do, don’t let this night be a night I’ll forget easily, hmm?”

Jeno smirks, reaching for the drawer of his bedside table. His hand scrambles through it for a while until he finds what he was looking for. The way he drew the packet confidently out of its box makes you chuckle.

“Okay, baby. But I don’t want any additional problems.” He brings the packet to his mouth, ripping the wrapper with his teeth before pulling the content out.

“Baby?” you ask, watching him put the condom on himself.

“I’ve been calling you that all night.”

“I like it.”

“Then that’s great. You should get used to it,” he says. Then he aligned himself at your entrance, rubbing his member between your two folds before pushing his tip in. You watch his shaft disappear into you and you feel him inside. He stretches you but he doesn’t move until you've gotten used to his size.

“Why’s my baby clenching all around me? Are you that desperate to be fucked?”

His words make you clench even more, which was pathetic for you and amusing for him. No matter how much you wanted to play the brat, your body completely betrayed you.

“Fuck no,” you answered but as you expected, Jeno doesn’t buy it.

“Mhm,” he says, pulling out halfway before pushing himself back into you.

Your eyes flutter shut, feeling the coming and waning pain of the stretch inside of you as Jeno begins thrusting into you. He starts slow, leaning forward so he could rest on top of you. His hand finds your face and he’s kissing you again—soft, passionate and almost loving. You’re unsure if what you were feeling inside was the build-up of your next orgasm or the butterflies flying about.

He adjusts himself, pushing you up so he could have a better angle when thrusting into you. You moan into the kiss as he reaches untouched spots inside you. His mouth leaves your lips again, sucking on the skin by your jawline all the way down to your neck. The combined sensation of his lips on your skin and his cock deep in you makes you even more sensitive. A moan escapes your lips every time he thrusted in and it just makes him more feral.

He picks up the pace, unhooking your arms from his neck so he could pin them on either side of you. The view makes his mouth water. Your mouth hung open as you moaned his name—loud enough that it bounces off the bedroom walls. Your breasts bounced with every thrust he did. All around you, the room smelt like sweet aroma of sex with the echo of skin against skin muffled by the exchange of grunts and moans.

Jeno lets your hands go and you clutch on to the sheets. He had one hand massaging your breast and the other rubbing his thumb against your nub .

“Jeno,” you breathed out, peering your eyes open for a moment before they flutter shut again as your orgasm drew closer.

“I know,” he pants as his thrusts quicken, “me too.”

The familiar feeling wells in the pit of your stomach once again—like knots tightening with every thrust into you. Toes curling. Heart pounding. Breath, too short and sporadic.

Then it all loosens.

Your mind is the first to register your climax and you let the post-orgasmic feeling of bliss wash over you. Jeno fucks you through it, still thrusting at an alarming speed just so he could catch his own release. He pulls out before it happens, sheathing his cock of the plastic that was once wrapped around it. The hot strings of white spurt out of his slit and onto your dress.

For the second time, you feel your juices spill out of you. You unhook your legs and let them fall unto the mattress, having little to no strength to keep them upright. You were still catching your breath when Jeno shuffled around you.

“_____,” he calls out to you.

You open one eye with all the strength you can muster but your eyelid already threatens to fall back shut.

Jeno smiles innocently, almost as if nothing had happened just a mere few moments ago. “Tired now, are we?” he asked and you manage to give him a lazy nod in response. He pushed himself off the bed, slipping into his boxers and sweatpants again before standing fully at the edge of his bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You’re too tired to even reply. You were slipping in and out of consciousness. You could hear him cross the room, hear the water running, feel him dip the mattress around you. He was cleaning up the mess you’ve both made—his release on your dress and yours on the sheets.

“Sorry,” you utter as he takes off your soiled underwear while you lay immobile.

He shakes his head, “It’s alright, it’s on me for making you cum this hard.”

You raise one of your eyelids so you could lock your target. You kick him with whatever strength you had left in you before instantly regretting it when you start to feel pain in your lower stomach. You wince, your pain becoming evident on your expression for Jeno to see and he only laughs.

“Can you sit up for me?”

You nodded in response but your body didn’t follow. Jeno chuckles at the sight and offers his hands to pull you up. You take them. Even with the extra help, you still struggled to stay upright. He looks down at you—drowsy eyes, heated cheeks and pouty lips, trying desperately to stay awake. He leans down to kiss your forehead, reaching around you so he could tug at the ends of your dress.

“Arms up,” he mumbles and you oblige. He pulls the fabric up and over your head before setting it aside. He then hooks his arms beneath your knees, lifting you off the bed. He heads to the bathroom, kicking the door open. The room is spacious enough that he doesn’t struggle maneuvering around even while carrying you. “It’s warm,” Jeno whispers before setting you down in the tub.

The water was indeed warm when it wrapped around you—soothing and relaxing. You curl up, wrapping your arms around your knees and letting your head rest on top of it. Shortly after, Jeno joins you. He sits at the other end of the tub, his legs stretched beside you. He leaned back against the rim of the tub, arms resting on either side.

“What now?” you ask, turning your head so you’re facing Jeno.

He raises a brow, “What ‘what now’?”

You stare at him, struggling to find the right words to use in explaining what was bugging you. “Are you ever curious with what lies ahead? Like ahead of this day, ahead of this?”

“No,” Jeno cuts you off. “Unlike you, I don’t have my entire life planned out. I live day to day not knowing where I’ll be at the end of it. Why’d you ask?” His eyes meet yours and you look away, keeping your mouth shut. He pursed his lips, “Did my presence disrupt your perfectly planned life?”

A chuckle escapes your lips, “To be honest, sort of.”

For a fleeting moment, you see him frown. He immediately regains his composure, masking himself in his cocky attitude once again, “We can always pretend none of this ever happened. But I’m not sure if you want that.” His eyes darted around the bathroom just to avoid yours. “I’m sure I don’t,” he mumbles under his breath, but you don’t catch it.

“I told you to give me a night I won’t forget and you tell me we could pretend none of this ever happened?”

“I don’t want to be the reason your life is thrown off track, babe,” he answers, finally catching your eyes and staring right back at you. “But,” he continues, “I’ll stick around only if you still want me to. So, do you?”

The question hangs in the air between you. If you hadn’t felt anything at all and only ever viewed him as bothersome, you would’ve said no right away. If you were merely here to confront him, you wouldn’t have let things get this far. But here you were, sitting naked in the tub across Jeno as you watched the boy’s eyes stare right into yours.

You were caught in the web of your own decisions and the slip-ups of your suppressed emotions. Your life was spinning further out of your control with every second you spent with him. He was everything you vowed to avoid in life—spontaneous, unpredictable and uncontrollable. Yet he gives you the opportunity to keep him in your life or not.

Having him around meant there were more nights like these; all of which were unaccounted for in your plan. Having him around meant having additional unwanted emotions; love, lust, jealousy. You never liked change, and having him around goes everything you’ve ever planned for.

But you think back on what he’d said earlier, about living life on a day to day basis without worrying too much about what the future held. It wasn’t certain anyway.

I’ll stick around only if you want me to. So, do you?

You do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sound anymore submissive than you already were in his eyes.

You roll your eyes, “I can’t believe you’re asking me this after we fucked.”

The amused laugh that escapes Jeno’s lips makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter about. You’re unsure if it was because of the nervousness of trying out something with no certainty or you just liked hearing him laugh. “So, is there a next time?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, throwing the last bits of your caution into the wind as you take the leap of fate, “you tell me.”

#jeno smut #nct smut #ficscafe #nct-writers #neowritingsnet #jeno imagine #jeno scenarios #jeno angst #nct angst #jeno drabbles #jeno x reader #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct x reader #jeno imagines #jeno drabble #jeno scenario #nct drabble #nct scenario

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kdyism · 1 year

Text

STUPID CUPID.

pairing. haechan x reader

genre + themes. friends-to-lovers, fluff, smidge of angst, christmas-themed, college!au.

wc. 5,342 / warning. christmas, mention of kissing, being drunk, dumb decisions, mistletoes.

synopsis. after being victim to jaemin’s cupid-ing last christmas, lee donghyuck has to figure out whether he wants to give up on you or go for it while risking the comfort of your friendship because he think you don’t remember last christmas.

secret santa hosted by @neowritingsnet for @kthpurplesyou | hi bee! it’s me santa watermelon aka yunan <3 hoping i was mysterious enough and you are shocked, i hope this fic is to your liking! i switched writing between morning and night so it took longer, i wanted to drop it on dec 20 so that you’d have time before celebrations in case you do. crossing my fingers and sending this out to you, bee, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it 💞💖💓

yunn says hohoho likes, comments + reblogs are appreciated, i hope everyone else enjoys this quick fic!

Lee Donghyuck is known for his infectious personality. He can leave a mark of his existence within a few seconds, he knows way too many people and most people would just think he is someone with too much free time on his hands.

“Did you get a name from the box?” unfolding his paper while maintaining a neutral expression, he sits in his usual seat and you bite down on your lips, eyes sparkling as soon as your eyes fall on the unfolded paper in your hand. “Let me guess?” narrowing his eyes, he hums. “...Taeyong,”

Gasping quietly, you nod chaotically and show him the name. “How’d you know?” you ask, a smile crawling onto your cheeks and you twist in his direction, your eyes looking directly behind him.

“When you see someone’s face as much as I've seen yours…” Donghyuck pursues his lips, “I would be an idiot not to know,”

Rolling your eyes at him, you dismiss his comment and continue with your preying. “How’s your schedule for this month?” you inquire, slipping your phone out of your pocket and suddenly, you look determined and shift your eyes back to him. “God, are you that happy?” he churns his face, watching your shake excitedly and your lips barely holding down a grin.

You gush in response, “Of course! You know I want his number,” skipping away from him, all he could do was sigh.

Waving you off, Donghyuck tries to hide his disappointment; unsure whether it was directed towards his paper or because of yours. Lee Taeyong, your most recent crush-ish, is a post-grad whose taking the same course as you for the same reason, extra credit. Donghyuck is already familiar with your boy of the week kind of crush-ishes—it’s not quite a crush, more like surface-level infatuation but if he didn’t know you any better, that’s what he would’ve thought.

However, it has never bothered him. Not until a stupid thing happened last Christmas.

Last Christmas changed everything, no warning or heads-up was given. He still remembers the night, unlike most nights at parties. He was sobered up, mind buzzing with all kinds of things until he was finally asleep on your sofa at almost 4 AM. He blames Na Jaemin for what happened, from his needless matchmaking to his punch-worthy grin, everyone knows that Na Jaemin’s favourite hobby is playing Cupid, going to all sorts of lengths to get his couple of the month to date. Hell, Donghyuck has actively participated in the talking up of girls, spreading rumours and finally, getting the ‘Characters’ to go on their first date.

It was funny and oddly satisfying when they do end up dating, Donghyuck for one wasn’t one to interrupt the fun. Not when he was directly getting the kick out of it. Except, he realized, it’s not very fun when the character line-up had his name written in the main leads.

hyuck💞: im booked all month

hyuck💞: why???? did you have something in mind???

“I hate him.” you declare breaking the silence that he embraced, “He said, ‘Uhhh I don’t know you…’ and left! Ugh, I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think what? That he would be a normal person and be cautious when a sophomore is asking for his number?” he cuts you off snarkily and you drop your jaws, putting your hands on his shoulder and asking, “And why would he be cautious?”

Cupping your cheeks with a smile, Donghyuck says, “One, you are not me.” raising his brows, you wanted to flick him but you let him continue. “Two, don’t you remember someone leaking Sehun—whose also from post-grad— his number was just spreading like disease between group chats, of course, they’d be more careful,”

Letting out an “Oh”, you pout, slumping weakly as you understand his reason. “Are they friends?” you wonder, Oh Sehun was also hot if your memory serves you well but he rejected you without hesitation and then you killed his memory along with your fascination with him.

“Yeah—we don’t really have that many post-grads,” releasing your cheeks, your face falls before you pull yourself up and you click your tongue at him and he shakes his head.

Donghyuck’s reasoning always changes your mind, he was the reason you were even in the social club, to begin with. He was friends with everyone, always making plans with everyone and you’d barely ever see him if not for your meticulous planning to match your schedule with him since you were naturally more free than he was with both his part-time and his “Hey, whose name did you get?” you ask, remembering that he was friends with Lee Taeyong as well.

“Why would I tell you?” he glares at you, backing away and immediately guesses, “I am not going shopping with you,”

Slapping your hand over your mouth, “How’d you know?” you splurt, your hands dancing in the air trying to show him your surprise. “Yeah, you’re obvious,”

Donghyuck could easily predict what was going on in your mind, not always but usually he could. From his second month of being your friend, he already knew that you thrived on being nosy. The way you made friends with people by letting them complain about their problems to having new crushes on every new person who you saw for the first time—there might be just one reason why Donghyuck would like some distance between the two of you.

“You know mine, why can’t I know yours?” you ask not looking away from him while he packs the study material he already knew you were going to ask that, so he scoffs wearing a smirk. “It’s supposed to be secret santa, not un-secret santa. Now,” he pauses, waiting for you to stand up again and he begins walking out of the hall as you follow closely beside him, mumbling, “That’s unfair…”

“To the cafeteria?” you ask and he nods.

“Yeah. so, I wanted to say but you keep shutting me up—Anyways, I am not going to see you until the Christmas party at Mark’s,” Donghyuck stops as soon as the elevator sounds, “I am blocking you and going on a detox,” stepping into the elevator, he leaves you behind stunned.

Just as the doors slide back, he smiles while saying, “I don’t wanna see your face anywhere near me, okay?”

To hyuck💞: you cant do this you hurt me 🤕🤕

To hyuck💞: im sorry what did i doooo??

To hyuck💞: unblock me plsssss 🙏🙏🙏

To hyuck💞: what will i do without you??? i need you bro

Message failed to send

There aren’t many nights where he quietly stays in his room, ignoring your text and pressing block on you. There have been times like tonight when the heart beating in his chest feels more painful than usual. He has never been the type to cry through the night. The ceiling of his bedroom is comforting, the mould collecting in the corners every winter, reminding him of his chores, and normally, he'd be on his phone scrolling mindlessly through social media and thinking about how he was going to be a better person tomorrow than today. Usually, they happen a lot later than 10 PM and only after he has spent his day with you already.

For one, he’s glad that no one could tell of his awful crush on you.

Christmas has always been easy, it's been pleasant, and unlike most seasons; the holiday season always gets him in the mood for a big gathering, cosying up with his friends and just enjoying their presence without having to mess around and it also makes him less of a troublemaker. He doesn’t follow Yangyang to the skating rink nor does he annoy Renjun in the library and he also leaves Mark to do his good thing of the day without bothering him about that club that opened a block away from college. He was even fine with you telling him that you’d be going out.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He was fine.

Until Last Christmas happened.

“I’m coming in!” Jaemin’s voice brings him back to his room and he sits up, sighing heavily. “Are you staying home tonight?” he asks as soon as the boy enters the room wearing his strawberry-patterned apron that a junior of his gifted him.

“Jeno has a project so he’s staying with his group at the library—I have been left behind,”

Rooming with Jaemin was a last-minute decision, when his dorm lease was up he was going to resign it, however, after your fingers held his hands this spring, shaking with excitement and your lips stretched in a smile, reminding him that you only lived ten minutes away from Jaemin. Before he knew it, he was signing a new contract with Jaemin who couldn't hide his mischievous eyes for him.

"Did you block Y/N?" Jaemin sits on the swivel chair in front of his computer, casually pulling the cord of his wired mouse. "I sent her back home saying you weren't here just now,"

"She came here?" Donghyuck bursts, eyes wide and Jaemin laughs, "Of course not."

Groaning, Donghyuck throws his head back in defeat. "This is all your fault. If I didn't kiss her at that party we wouldn't be going through this," he grumbles, closing his eyes and flashes of last Christmas pass by.

It was picturesque, so perfect and the heat of his lips on yours—he would've never guessed that you'd taste like wine.

You hate wine.

Jaemin rolls his eyes, dismissing the accusation. "It's not my fault you have a superiority complex about knowing where all the mistletoes are,"

Offended by that, Donghyuck gets off his bed and stares down at the boy who continues to grab his copy of the Forza Horizon 4 and strut back to the door. "You hang it up there knowing full well that me and Y/N always take that spot," Donghyuck said and he receives a loud hah from his friend who pulls the door open.

Jaemin looks him straight in the eye, his characteristic sweet smile on his face and he said, "Maybe you should've just been a big boy and kissed me instead,"

And well, he wasn't wrong, so Donghyuck resorts to slamming his face into his pillow and raging at it, screaming while swinging his legs recklessly until his shin stabs against his bed frame and gives him genuine reason to scream out. God, if you were here, you'd have a look of worry painted all over your face while you still laughed at his pain and to be honest, Donghyuck thought you would look nice against the background of his room.

Turning to lie on his stomach, Donghyuck wiggles in his bed to get comfortably under his sheets, and he unlocks his phone, your image glowing on the screen. He has an album full of just you. You love sending him pictures of yourself, outfit of the day, and once in a while, when you look really nice, you'll send him a decent picture that he would lose his mind about but all he responds with is an emoji, the one with two eyes looking sideways.

Gulping down frustratedly, he clicks off his gallery, and suddenly, his screen cuts with notifications.

leemark: u helping on 23?

leemark: please?? jisung broke his arm u know he can't help me now

leemark sent a sticker

you: you owe me one

Working graveyard hours, twelve-to-four, has its unexpected silver lining. Most people are asleep during this time and anyone awake usually just want to get home, aside from the hooligans who mind their own business if you mind your own because of the cameras placed inside the convenience store and the patrol team in the area from two-till-six because of recent crime level increase in the area. To Donghyuck, it was perfect for a decent-paying, low-effort job.

The one downside of this is, you live super close to Jaemin and share the same convenience store as them. Of course, he'd see you if you decided to visit the store at this time.

Donghyuck didn't think of you as someone hot before, casual dating was not his mind when it came to you and you were always busy being interested in whoever is new. Maybe you liked the unfamiliarity of them, the fact you didn't see them for consecutive weeks before they suddenly appeared in front of you, unlike the two of them, Donghyuck has been in your life consistently for the past two years and this year, something changed.

The pulsing of his heart, when the store's automated doors slide open and your familiar pyjama hoodie comes into his view, the way his lungs forget to breathe and he can't tear his eyes off of you until you make your way up to the counter with your BBQ pringles and cola on the side. "When are you gonna unblock me?" even your voice is so sweet now, his brain shooting fuzzy chemicals inside him and butterflies making his knees go weak.

Donghyuck doesn't want to like you.

"You know the schedule, wait until the party," scanning the codes of your items and billing you up, he takes your exact change, sliding your snacks to you.

"Can't you give me a reason? What did I do?" you ask, stuffing your snacks into your hoodie’s pocket and Donghyuck groans, you didn't plan on leaving, he could tell. "You saw my text and didn't reply, you could've just replied then—"

"That's just stupid, I blocked you as soon as I remembered I said I would," he argued back, clicking his tongue at your exasperated expression.

Giving up on that point, "Nevermind that then, just give me a reason then," you said, Donghyuck grumbling internally and you stare at him, waiting for a reply.

"Didn't I tell you I wanted a detox?"

Waving him off, you glare at him and ask again, "Am I toxic? To make you need a detox from me?" your eyes tingle, the heat making its way up to your neck and you mentally curse, you've never been able to argue without feeling the urge to cry.

"That's not what I mean by detox. I just need some time from you, my life is a mess right now you are at the centre of it," Donghyuck explains, his hands automatically holding your face and rubbing away the tears that brim in your eyes. "I don't mean to make you cry—with all the time away from me, you can go and try to snag Taeyong! Come on, you have a life without me in it too," he adds, his voice softer and fingers gently crease your cheeks, earning a pout from you.

You spit, "What's that supposed to mean?" you take his hands away from your face and wrap your fingers in his, "Taeyong isn't you, no one is you. You are not replaceable for me,"

Tears bubbling up again, Donghyuck shushes you and he doesn't want to feel this way; his chest clogs up and renders him breathless in front of you, and he feels guilty. "Hey, hey, come on don't cry," he frets, his fingers wiping away the tears and settling on your shoulders. If only the counter wasn't in between you, he knows for sure he'd have hugged you and given up already.

"You know, your touch always makes me not cry," you laugh, remembering the time when you almost broke down in class after getting an F and being required to repeat a course the next semester. He held your hand the entire two hours of the lecture and even stayed with you until you were back home. You didn't even know him too well back then.

It made your heart kinda race for him but the comfort of your growing friendship with him felt too precious.

"That's because you are like a baby, holding you will make you calm down," he exposes you, rolling his eyes as if it were an obvious truth and you scoff, "Just how many people do you think hold my face like I'm a chipmunk?" killing the mood, Donghyuck sighs, "Well, at least you are okay now,"

"Unblock me now," you said, regaining your reason once you've calmed down and he shakes his head without hesitation, suddenly regaining his previous determination. "Yeah, no."

A Y/N-detox isn't feasible if he thought about it, not when you've carefully matched your schedule to his because he is always working or has appointments with other friends, you work at the cafe down the fast food cabin he works at, take the same bus home as him and worst of all, you both share the same friend groups because of how much time you spend together as a collective.

"Do you guys like, hate me or something?" Donghyuck deadpans, slumping into the seat you were previously sitting at.

"You hate yourself," Renjun quips, his eyes not leaving his book and Yangyang nods in agreement while adding, "You didn't think it would be a good idea to tell us you didn't like her anymore? We would've not invited her,"

"We could've also made a group without you in it," Mark said, resting his head on the wall and dozing away. He had finished a shift and was supposed to work one more shift today because his junior broke his arm but thank the heavens, Donghyuck said okay and is covering the shift. Too guilty to go home, Mark has resorted to staying around until the end of the shift anyway.

Mark, unlike Jaemin, was Donghyuck’s only refuge. The one person who knew about his crush and the one person who told him, hey, she might like you. "Dude, just go home," he says, shaking Mark's shoulder and Renjun sighs.

Renjun says, "I tried already, he is just being stubborn," closing his book once he bookmarks it and crossing his arms on the table. "Now, you need to tell us what happened,"

Renjun has always been perceptive of his mood, always keeping up with the latest drama and the main provider of information to Jaemin's cupid hustle. Romance was just his forte. Donghyuck, though, was too scared to ask him his opinion on it in case he told him to just give up—as if he wasn't already trying in his own way.

"Promise me you won't laugh," Donghyuck gulps and Yangyang grunts loudly, "Dude, miss me with the suspense—We swear, now what happened?"

Inhaling, he blinks away into the distance. "I might be in love with Y/N and I am so ashamed to come out with it. I know it's stupid but you guys know how we are, it's always us together, Donghyuck and Y/N, we're friends.

Shit, I even blocked her to get over her but it's not working—I dreamt of her last night and it was so embarrassing to see her today,"

"Dreamt of her… like… like that?" Yangyang asks, his fists covering his dropped jaw and Donghyuck's face burns up at the suggestion but he doesn't deny it, much to Renjun's disgust, he gags and says, "Please don't give us the details,"

"She's been going insane on her own and constantly going on about you—this must be why." Mark nods as if a bigger picture was drawn in his head, he grins and goes on, "Jaemin wasn't joking when he said you liked her last Christmas. I didn't think the mistletoe trick would work,"

Gasping at him, "You knew!" Donghyuck points at him in accusation and grabs his collar, "That kiss messed up our relationship!"

Yangyang breaks them up, grinning at Donghyuck sleazily, and he says, "Dude, tomorrow's party, just fix it. There's nothing to lose—I can't believe you've dragged this on for a year, how adorable."

Two weeks without Donghyuck and you are but a shell of yourself.

It was so easy getting used to life with him, he came in and went out so nonchalantly. You hadn't realized how involved he was in your life until he was gone from your daily transit, he was gone from your walks home, he was gone from his shift at the convenience store and not a single text you sent him went through. No, your life didn't revolve around him but you include him in everything because, Donghyuck will think this is funny, you need to tell him about the stupid fight that happened in the café and Donghyuck will look good with this, you need to take him shopping with you.

Shit, you sent him a picture of random things that made you think of him.

There was only once that you thought you liked him, and you shot that down as soon as he said he liked a girl in his social club—you even joined the club for him, how could he like someone else… you gave up as soon as your heart latched on and to be honest, you were okay with that because well, he was still the closest person to you.

You didn't need the kisses to feel loved. His gentle hands creasing your cheeks habitually and his warm hugs because he feels like it, they made you feel loved. The way he makes time to see you in his busy schedule, you know he leaves hours in his day because you'll ask him for time, which makes you feel loved as well.

It didn't make sense for him to suddenly shut you out, not when he was leaving all these signs, he didn't do any of these with anyone else—last Christmas meant something to him.

You just knew it did.

"Have you guys seen Donghyuck?" you ask, holding your red cup of punch barely full and your head feeling dizzy.

Pointing towards a corner, "I THINK HE WAS WITH MARK," Yangyang screams at the top of his lungs, the earmuffs doing their work to shut out even his loudness.

Lee Mark throws the most exciting Christmas parties every year in his apartment building in collaboration with his neighbours. The shared pool and backyard were completely theirs to use, Mark would normally hang up mistletoes in the spaces between his apartment and everywhere else. The kissing begins as soon as you want to leave his front door anywhere else. And you never leave his apartment, so you never had to deal with the plant.

That wasn't the case last year, someone had hung up mistletoes inside the apartment and exactly at the spot you and Donghyuck always beeline to, that's where everything changed for him and out of nowhere, you had to be the one acting normal because he wasn't.

Stumbling your way into the living room, it wasn't too crowded in here and it usually only had Mark's closest friends loitering around. Your eyes immediately find Donghyuck, laughing loudly and he leaves his beanbag, and almost instinctively, you plop down on it as soon as you near it.

Fading out of consciousness, "Who said you could sit there?" he whined, his eyes half-lid as he grabbed your hand and you shot up, your head feeling clearer now.

You always steal his seat when he leaves to get a refill. "I was just keeping it warm. You don't have to yell," you said, jutting your lips out. Your cheeks painted in a flushing colour, Donghyuck guessed that you already had your share of drinks and made a mental note to leave the party soon because he was your ride home. Not that he'll be driving but even walking you home is considered a ride.

Well, maybe not this time because you guys didn't come together.

Letting go of your arm, you fall back onto the beanbag, and he gives you puppy eyes. "I wasn't yelling," Donghyuck grumbles, getting shoved to the side by someone and he turns to face them.

"Are you okay?" Jaemin asks, his lips almost meeting his eyes in a wide grin, and Donghyuck immediately has his guard up, feeling a wave of deja vu.

"You look tipsy, aren't you gonna go home?" Pressing his hand on your forehead, Jaemin looks towards the ceiling above you and smirks. "Oh, look here, guys," he gasps loudly. However, Donghyuck could hear the pretentiousness of it.

Donghyuck followed his gaze with narrowed eyes, right above him, wretched mistletoes greeted him in the dimly lit corner of the room immediately releasing a groan. "Ugh, not again!" Donghyuck cries.

Scoffing at Jaemin, he rolls his eyes. "What? You wanna kiss me this time?" he asks in a mean tone, and Jaemin giggled, moving away from the spot while saying, "Of course, not," Donghyuck felt his blood boil, if Jaemin was a cupid, then maybe that song about a stupid cupid was right.

Clearly, his arrows were faulty this time.

Last time, it didn't cross his mind that someone else would be hanging up mistletoes, Mark never hung them up in the corners of the rooms and especially not inside Mark's apartment because he was scared someone would make out on his sacred sofa or worse, inside his toilet. But he learnt his lesson, Na Jaemin goes to extreme lengths to pair up his couples after all.

You then ask, "Then—Are we going to kiss?" your eyes look curiously at him as you pointed at the plant. "It's you and me under it now,"

And from that point, it's never been the same. The last time, he kissed your lips, it was stupid. You were drunk and said okay for the fun of it, Donghyuck could only hope neither of you remember it.

But when his lips lightly brushed on yours, and he realized that tomorrow morning you'll be back to normal, your memory in fragments and he remembers it clearly, the regret that washed over him the next morning when he opened his eyes to the ceiling of his bedroom, the horror that clung to him when his phone was bombarded by his friends curious about how he felt now that he had kissed you.

He was in denial for a whole year.

Once more, "Are we going to kiss again," you ask, your fingers pulling his shirt, you bring him back to the present and guide him down towards you.

Donghyuck's knees go weak, and he falls onto the floor with his breath caught. This time, you are the one taking the lead. "You remember," he breathes out, looking away from you and you give him a tight-lipped look. "Yeah, I never forgot it," you said.

"Why'd you never say anything, I am so sorry about the kiss—" Donghyuck immediately says and you cut him off, —"I didn't say anything because I didn't mind, I actually liked it and I thought you did too because you kissed me twice…"

Perhaps it was the lighting in the room. Donghyuck never thought you looked hot but he did always think you were beautiful, but today, the lipstick you wore made him want to go crazy. "Don't you like Taeyong now?" he just had to ask to be sure and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you said, "You know my fascination with all my crush-ishes dies after I talk to them,"

"But you were so excited for the secret santa," "That's because it's gift giving and that's fun,"

Donghyuck didn't get your name, so he thought you weren't meant to be. No matter how stupid he thinks that idea is now, he still thought it was fate that you got Taeyong's name when you liked him. "I thought you were going to cut me off this Christmas to spend it with him, that's why I came up with the detox… to give you time away from me and me time away from you,"

Biting down a smile, you place a peck on his lips. "Have I ever gone on a date with anyone since you've known me?" you tease, and he immediately says, "Yeah, Yangyang. The two of you go on skate rink dates all the time, I see you guys,"

"That's just you being picky—you don't know how to skate so, of course, I go there with him and not you," flicking his forehead, you click your tongue and went on, "Plus, you always come along anyway,"

"Because I come along, it's not a date anymore,"

"Wow, genius," you giggle, rolling your eyes and Donghyuck sighs into your side, he thinks, his arms are allowed to go around your waist now and he's allowed to keep staring into your eyes.

Your eyes don't leave him either, the thumping bass of the background blending in with the sound of your heart skipping beats and your toes curl, butterflies choking your breath when you say, "Hey, there's a mistletoe here—can't you just kiss me already?"

Dipping his head down, his lips catching yours and this time, you taste like berry punch, your favourite and his hands cradle your face, he still isn't sure if this is the right way to go with you but when your lips synchronise with his, moving softly against his with your hands desperately clinging onto his shoulders.

It took him a mistletoe and a whole year to realize his feeling about you, so maybe, cupid wasn't the only stupid one, he was stupid too. You've been right in front of each other and yet, "Does this mean you like like me?" you ask against his lips.

Smiling, "Just how many people do you think I block?" Donghyuck lets his head rest on your shoulder, the rest of his body going limp as well on the floor, and you pat his back. "Are we together now? Next Christmas, will I be your boyfriend?" he asks weakly, and you nod. Although he couldn't see you, he could tell there was a smile on your face.

"Oh, by the way, do you know who put this in here? Mark doesn't put mistletoes inside his apartment right?" curiously, you point at the plant on top of you and he grumbles, "Na Jaemin," tightening his grip on you. Donghyuck thinks he should give his thanks to Jaemin too because, without him, none of this would've happened.

"Aah, now it makes sense why he came here last year—doesn't he always stay at the pool area with Jeno and that Junior of theirs?"

Nodding, Donghyuck says, "Yeah. He even came up this time too," mentally deciding to spare him this time.

And you giggle, cheerfully saying, "We should thank him, he is kinda like our cupid if you think about it. It goes well with his reputation on campus," the sound of your humming makes him smile, agreeing with you, "Huh, you think so?"

BONUS:

Beknownst to both of you, starting next semester Na Jaemin’s position as campus cupid was solidified using a picture he took once the two of you knocked out in the corner of Mark’s living; Donghyuck’s head nestling on your stomach and your head tilted upwards in a way that looked like it hurt—His greatest masterpiece he said, showing the photo and relying on the great love story until “How come none of you tell me about this?” Donghyuck accuses his friends, shifting his weight to one side and scoffing indignantly.

Yangyang shrugs, “It’s funny. And you guys look cute anyways, what are you mad about?” he asks, his face genuinely looking confused, which makes Donghyuck click his tongue, and Mark asks, “Are you mad we didn’t share the photo with you?” his eyes narrowed, hoping his guess was right.

“How’d you know!” you clap, nodding your head. “Hyuck changed his wallpaper as soon as he got the picture,”

“How did it take this long to find out, though?” Renjun asks, “You’re friends with everyone on campus. It's unbelievable it took you this long,”

#neosecretsanta #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct haechan x reader

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choerrypuffs · 2 years

Text

fast times.

pairing: co-worker!donghyuck x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.6k

synopsis: throughout the snapshots of your life, lee donghyuck is always there. (or, you realize that you’re in love with the bane of your existence.)

author’s note: i started grad school and it’s literally eating me alive so i wanted to write something short and sweet to de-stress and then it ended up being almost 8k words 😭

warning(s): excessive drinking, family tension

playlist: fast times by sabrina carpenter ― the bottom by gracie abrams ― stress by taeyeon ― ruin my life by zara larsson ― cruel summer by taylor swift

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating

Liquid courage, as the poets say.

Well, don’t fact check that, but surely Wordsworth or Coleridge or whichever poet that Taylor Swift talks about in the lakes mentioned something about getting shitfaced during a St. Patrick’s Day office party.

Regardless, you’re going to pretend like they did because it’s a lot less romantic (lowercase r, not capital like the movement) if you’re just drunk off your ass at an office party without an artsy-fartsy literary reference to back you up.

You’re one too many shots of tequila deep, swaying to the shitty techno music that someone is blasting from their pretentious Spotify playlist while stumbling past the office cubicles, including yours and He Who Shall Not Be Named’s, on your wobbly trip to the bathroom.

Despite the copious amounts of alcohol in your system, the remaining coherent part of your brain is sounding the alarms that you’re probably going to throw up soon. You wish that part of your brain would just shut the hell up because you don’t want to think rationally right now.

You don’t want to think about He Who Shall Not Be Named and how he’s in love with your best friend. You don’t want to think about how his eyes found her the moment she walked into the office, how his gaze melted into a pool of honey, his head swiveling towards every direction she went like a stupid bobblehead. Not that you blame him; everyone is in love with Karina. It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyways.

Ugh, see? You’re thinking about him again.

Anyways, you’re also grateful for that part of your brain because the poets definitely do not write about spewing chunks in front of your co-workers. You just want to hurl in peace and wallow in your misery with the porcelain toilet bowl by your side.

The poets probably wrote about that.

You finally make it to the hall where the bathrooms are, having steady yourself against the wall as you make your way down because walking in a straight line has become a luxury. However, you only get about five steps (at least you think it’s five, numbers are hard) when someone grabs your arm. You don’t even realize your legs are in the process of buckling until there’s a pair of hands supporting your waist to keep you upright.

“Jesus, Y/N,” someone breathes in relief, exhaling loudly.

You’d recognize that condescending tone anywhere.

He Who Shall Not Be Named carefully leans you against the wall, one hand still on your waist while the other removes the bottle of Jack Daniels that you didn’t even know you were clinging onto from the nook of your arm. With one smooth motion, he tosses the bottle into the trashcan and doesn’t even flinch when the bottle very audibly shatters inside.

“I know you’re a loyal worshiper of mine, but just Y/N is fine,” you slur, not sounding nearly as cool as you’d hope, “though it’d be pretty fucking funny if you washed my feet.”

He huffs and pauses, like he’s debating on whether or not he should say what he wants to say next. And because he’s a piece of shit, he says it:

“For the record, Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. Not the other way around.”

You groan, shoving him hard. He barely budges, so most of the force in your shove kicks back to you. Feeling yourself tip forward, you grab his shoulders out of instinct to avoid busting your head open against the hard tile. In the process, your forehead slams into his chest, and he lets out a soft grunt. His hands grip your elbows, fingertips warm against your even warmer skin.

“I hate you,” you sniffle, burying your face in his shirt. He smells exactly like a fluffy towel that just came out of the dryer. “You’re tactless and you never let me win and you have shitty taste in movies.”

“And you’re drunk,” he replies nonchalantly, “Why do you drink so much when you’re such a lightweight?”

“You don’t deserve Karina,” you continue angrily.

He actually laughs at that. “Okay, young lady. I’m going to drive you home now. Come on.”

You lift your head so fast that you nearly slam it into his jaw; luckily, he sees it coming and steps back before you can knock his teeth out.

“Don’t,” you hiss, poking his chest. “I don’t want you to drive me home. Don’t drive me home unless…”

He raises an eyebrow. “Unless what?”

“Pretty boys can never be trusted,” you hiccup.

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, but let’s continue this discussion when you’ve sobered up,” he sighs, crossing his arms. “And when you are sober and realize that you don’t want to talk about this anymore, like I suspect you’ll do, I’ll even pretend like this conversation never happened because I am a gentleman.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” you whisper blearily.

You’re wearing a green t-shirt that has “Kiss me, I’m Irish” plastered across the chest in big, bold white letters. You borrowed it from Karina when you realized you didn’t have any green in your closet. Of course, only Karina would look good in something like this, but you really didn’t want to be pinched the entire night. Someone had plastered four-leaf clover stickers all over your face, though you’re not sure how many of them are still on at this point. Your makeup should be intact since you haven’t been sweating, even if you probably have mascara residue under your eyes. You’ve certainly looked better, but this definitely isn’t the worst state you’ve been in.

It’s a stupid question though, really. No matter how pretty you are, he’s already chosen Karina.

When you glance back up at him, he looks like one of those cartoon characters that have two perfect red circles on their cheeks when they blush.

You haven’t seen him this flustered in a long time. He’s always had this smug, impenetrable mask of an expression that you want to punch off his face―like he’s constantly one step ahead of you in something.

You want to take out your phone and take a picture of his expression so badly.

Instead, you hunch over and throw up on his expensive shoes.

VALENTINE’S DAY 2018 my feelings used to be serrated, but you speak in such a perfect cadence

Pretty boys should never be trusted.

That is your ultimate mantra in life.

Especially pretty boys that claim to be “nerdy.” The ones that smell nice and aren’t misogynistic but also like games and anime and know how to code. The ones that wear indie band t-shirts and actually enjoy the band but don't care if you wear the same t-shirt just because you like the aesthetic. The ones that wear rings on their fingers and metal-rimmed glasses on the tip of their noses.

The ones that other girls would claim were “written by women.”

It’s all a trap.

If anything, they’re worse than the obnoxious frat boy chads. At least those are straightforward about what they want. Nerdy pretty boys are professional manipulators, meticulously slicing your heart into thin little pieces to use as a garnish for their own ego.

So when the new intern swaggers into the office, hands tucked into the pockets of his designer slacks, your Pretty Boy senses start to tingle.

He’s wearing a crisp white button-up (not a band tee since he’s at work), and he’s got rings on his fingers and metal-rimmed glasses right on the tip of his nose. His hair is a little curly and falls into his eyes in that messy but charming look. He’s got a round face and pouty lips, looking just sweet enough to disarm someone.

After he walks in, the CEO of the company follows, and now everything makes sense.

“Everyone, this is my grandson, Donghyuck,” Mr. Lee explains, smiling warmly.

Nepo baby, you realize, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“I want you all to know he won’t be getting any special treatment,” Mr. Lee says firmly, “He will have to work his way from the bottom, just like everyone else.”

Right, that’s why you’re personally introducing him to us, you think wryly.

After receiving a load of ass kissing from the employees, Mr. Lee finally leaves, and your team leader points Donghyuck to the empty cubicle right next to yours. He strolls over with an ease as if he owns the building (he technically does) and takes a seat. He smiles at you, though it reads as more of a smirk than a good-natured smile.

“Hi, I’m Donghyuck.”

When he looks at you, he does so with his whole body. His lanky frame is completely angled towards you as he unabashedly drinks in your side profile with his mischievous, twinkly eyes. The way he stares at you with such intrigue makes you jittery, and you keep your line of sight glued to your computer screen, refusing to indulge him even through your peripheral.

He’s deploying his Pretty Boy tactics, you warn.

“I know,” you snap back. You don’t mean to come off that aggressively, but you just know he’s trouble. In an attempt to remedy your curt response, you softly tack on, “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” Donghyuck asks, the quirked grin on his face growing.

You blink in surprise. You were not expecting him to say it so straightforwardly. “I…just met you.”

“You’re not answering the question.” He tilts his head, though he doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it. Rather, he probably already knows the answer.

You’re not sure what to say to that, and Donghyuck doesn’t try to continue the conversation either. Instead, he begins to unpack his stuff and set up his work space. When he turns on his personal laptop, you see League of Legends downloaded onto it.

Yikes.

Like the standard pretty boy, he starts hanging up an indie band poster, along with some anime ones you don’t recognize and―a Twilight poster.

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head when you see it. Men, even the pretty boys who are trying to make themselves as appealing to girls as possible, rarely ever admit to watching, much less enjoying, Twilight.

Okay, so maybe your Pretty Boy tingle got one thing wrong, but it doesn’t change the fact that he checks most of the Pretty Boy boxes―

“Are you Team Edward or Jacob?” Donghyuck asks, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

You have no one else to blame but yourself for snooping, but you still grow hot from your face to the tips of your ears and all the way down your neck.

“I’m Team Charlie,” you reply breezily, sounding pretty calm for someone who’s screaming on the inside.

His eyebrows slightly raise, and he just laughs quietly to himself.

You relish in that tiny victory.

As it turns out, Donghyuck is an extremely fast learner.

And despite being a nepo baby, he puts his money where his mouth is. He picks things up extremely quickly and utilizes everything he has learned efficiently. In fact, he’s doing so well that he’s starting to threaten your position as the office’s favorite intern.

And of course, on today of all days, you fuck up.

Another intern messed up the report, and you somehow overlooked it while you were checking. However, the responsibility falls on your shoulders because it was your job to make sure the report was correct. You get viciously chewed out by your team leader, and you’re guaranteed to have to work overtime to fix everything.

Ultimately, it is your mistake, and you’re not disputing that; you just know that you’re being made an example of so the office can look good in front of the CEO’s grandson.

So, while everyone is gathering their stuff to leave, you’re the only one still at your cubicle, fingers clicking away on the keyboard. Your eyelids are already starting to droop, despite the fact that you have at least a couple hours left of work. Giving yourself a couple of smacks on the cheeks, you try to shake away the brain fog and keep going.

You’re so immersed that you almost don’t notice Donghyuck set down a cup of coffee on your desk.

“I bought two for myself, but I think you need it more than me,” he admits, actually seeming a little sympathetic.

“Thanks,” you say, a little wary but still appreciative. You’re too tired to even question his motives.

He gives you a wave before leaving. Once he’s gone, you turn back to your computer and start to work again. You nearly forget about the coffee until you pause to take a big stretch, noticing it in your peripheral. Picking it up, you notice there’s a message scrawled on it.

happy valentine’s day! maybe i’ll grow on you :)

You smile, but only a little bit. Only because he’s a little cute.

When you finally take a sip, you nearly spit it all over your computer screen.

It’s so bitter that it sends a shudder throughout your whole body. You start to cough, feeling like even a single drop of that coffee getting in your system is going to make your short circuit. You’re not even sure if this poison could be considered black coffee. It might be actual black tar. Frantically digging through your drawers to find some candy or gum to offset the bitterness, you begin to curse Donghyuck in your head.

When you finally find a half-melted caramel cube and pop it into your mouth, it occurs to you that Donghyuck didn’t even have a cup of coffee in his hands even though he said he bought two.

“That asshole,” you whisper.

Cracking your knuckles and rolling your neck, you start to type again with a renewed vigor, thinking of all the ways you were going to make Donghyuck pay to power you through the rest of the night.

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating

You’re not sure how He Who Shall Not Be Named manages to clean himself up and wrangle you into his car in such a short timespan, but he does it. Most of it is a blur to you, though you do recall him throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying you through the parking garage after you started trying to fistfight him.

Now, you’re leaning your head against the cool window, watching all the buildings whizz by, as he drives in silence. Well, not complete silence. Music is being softly played on the radio. It’s that stupid indie band he likes, and you hate that you know exactly what song it is. You remember it from last time.

I’ve only been in his car twice, including now, you think groggily to yourself.

He must really like this song.

APRIL FOOLS 2019 three stories up here contemplating, but what the fuck is patience?

“Is this some sort of sick April Fools’ joke?” you demand.

“Come on, Y/N. Surely, you don’t think a prank of mine would be this lame,” Donghyuck retorts, offended.

The two of you are fighting again. At this point, it’s a daily occurrence in the office. In fact, Karina likes to say that the official work day doesn’t really start until you and Donghyuck start going at each other’s throats. You feel bad that everyone has to constantly deal with your bickering, but Donghyuck asks for it every time.

“You can’t just take someone else’s client,” you say through gritted teeth, wanting to smack that insufferable look right off his face.

“I didn’t take anything,” he corrects haughtily, “I was assigned your client, who is now my client. Take it up with the team leader.”

“The team leader would suck a fart out of your ass if you asked him to,” you hiss back.

He shrugs like you have a point.

“Fine,” you snap, grabbing your bag. “I’ll go talk to my client myself. I’ll get them to request to be transferred back to me.”

Before marching out, you grab the coffee on your desk and down it all in one go. It’s been sitting there for a couple hours, so it’s ice cold. The cold temperature in combination with the extreme bitterness is just the right mixture to light a fire in you.

Unfortunately, that fire is dimmed when you step foot outside and realize it’s thunderstorming heavily. The wind howls so piercingly that it almost hurts your ears, and the onslaught of rain is so strong that you can barely see the cars on the streets. You weigh your options: you have no car, there’s no way you can wait for a bus, and there sure as hell aren’t going to be any available taxis.

Just as you begrudgingly decide to do the walk of shame back into the office and wait out the storm, you hear a loud honk and see an obnoxiously red Ferrari pull up. The tinted window rolls down, and you find yourself staring at nepo baby Lee Donghyuck.

“Need a ride?” he shouts over the pouring rain.

“Not with you!” you holler back, turning to go back inside.

“Are you really going to wait it out?” he teases. “Their office closes in twenty minutes.”

You want to keep walking and ignore him, but your traitorous feet plant themselves on the concrete and refuse to let you take another step.

“Thanks for the new client, I guess!” he continues in a sing-song voice. A car behind him beeps, and you hear his window roll back up as he slowly starts to drive away.

“Damn it,” you mutter. Not giving yourself to think, you whirl around and dash out into the rain. Luckily, he decided to leave at a snail’s pace, so you have time to fling his car door open and slip inside.

Even though you were only in the rain for a few seconds, you’re soaked to the bone. Your pants make a squish noise when you settle yourself into his expensive leather seat. You want to make a joke about ruining his seats, but your teeth are chattering too hard for you to even speak.

Donghyuck reaches over and turns your seat warmer on before also blasting the heater. Your thin blouse has become see-through, and you awkwardly cross your arms over your chest, hoping he hasn’t noticed. Unfortunately, he has noticed, judging by the way he loudly clears his throat and reaches into the backseat to give you his hoodie.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, pulling it over your head before slipping your arms through. The sleeves are too long, so you roll them up to your wrists. His hoodie smells like fabric softener.

“No problem.” His voice cracks.

Neither of you say anything after that, only the sound of the rain pitter-pattering against his car filling in the silence. Eventually, he turns on the radio.

It’s a song you don’t recognize, but you deduce it’s from one of his indie bands when he starts humming along. You’re not even sure he’s aware that he’s doing it, though you don’t really mind. He’s not a bad singer, and you actually enjoy the song.

The two of you spend the remainder of the drive just listening to music, neither of you really feeling the need to speak. It’s a calm, comfortable silence―something that you never thought would be achievable between you and him. Rather, you wish you had more moments like this.

By the time you arrive at your client’s office, the rain has stopped. You assume he’s going to leave after dropping you off because it’s not raining anymore, and especially since the meeting ends up lasting way past the office’s closing, but you see his Ferrari still there when you come back out.

Walking over to him, you knock on the window.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” you say when he rolls it down, slightly touched.

“You have my hoodie,” Donghyuck states plainly.

Well, there goes the moment. You can always count on him to say something to piss you off.

“Right.” Rolling your eyes, you start to take off the hoodie in the street.

“I’m just kidding, Y/N,” he grins, “Come on.”

You let out a small huff, even though you’re smiling too, and you climb in. He turns the radio on again, and the two of you fall back into the ambiance. It occurs to you that Donghyuck’s car smells overwhelmingly like rain and leather and him. When you cross your arms, the scent of the fresh fabric softener from his hoodie wafts back up to you. You feel warm―the kind of warmth that blooms in the pit of your stomach and then melts throughout your body, like when you take a sip of hot chocolate on a cold day.

“How was it?” he finally asks after the song ends.

“Who do you think I am?” you scoff. “Of course I got them back.”

He smiles, and it makes you feel proud.

“You can tell the team leader to suck the fart out of my ass,” you retort.

This gets a laugh from him before he hesitantly adds, “I really didn’t want to take your client.”

You’ve never heard him sound so serious and so…vulnerable before. He says it with a slight desperation, like he doesn’t think you’ll believe him.

“I know.”

And much to your own surprise, you do know.

Now that’s a sick April Fools’ joke.

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating

“You don’t deserve Karina,” you mumble, coming in and out of sleep.

He Who Shall Not Be Named laughs again at that, though he sounds a lot more exhausted. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see it,” you slur. “You were making those stupid moon eyes at her all night long. Looking like some lovesick puppy. Gross.”

He laughs for a second time, but there’s not a hint of humor in it.

What if it had been me, you want to ask him.

NEW YEARS EVE 2019 tiptoeing past so many stages, but what the fuck is patience?

You’re not sure what possessed Mr. Lee, probably the fact that his grandson works for the company, but he randomly announced one day that the entire office was getting an all expenses paid trip to a fancy ski resort as a New Years present. Needless to say, everyone was absolutely ecstatic.

But you should’ve known something was going to go wrong when Karina suggested that the two of you leave the bunny slope and move straight into the advanced slope, despite the fact that neither of you have ever skied in your lives until now.

You’d like to think that Karina’s sudden bravery was due to the adrenaline of being on such a luxurious trip. You’re going to blame your lack of judgment on the adrenaline rush as well because you actually agreed to it.

Of course, things derailed almost immediately and literally because the two of you ended up veering off the course due to your lack of steering abilities and somehow found yourselves in a random, remote wooded area off the edge of the slope. Karina also twisted her ankle after landing incorrectly, so there’s that too.

Oh, and there’s a snowstorm.

Well, it’s not really a snowstorm. It’s more of a flurry, but it’s terrifying nonetheless because of your current situation. Karina can barely move, and neither of you have any clue where you are nor do you have any sort of communication device since you left it all at the resort. It’s not like you can leave Karina by herself to get help either. You can really only hope that someone finds you before the frostbite starts settling.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Karina sniffles, her nose redder than Rudolph’s.

You hug her tightly, both to comfort her and to keep the two of you as warm as possible. “Stop crying, you’re going to dehydrate yourself. You can apologize when we get out of here.”

She chokes back a sob.

You want to cry too, but you bite down on your lower lip and just cling onto Karina harder.

“Damn, and I was finally going to follow through with my New Year's resolution of fixing my sleep schedule,” you joke, voice trembling.

Karina laughs weakly at that too. “You say that every year.”

“I know,” you admit sheepishly, “but I really am going to this time. I need to make sure I’m in tip-top condition because there’s no way in hell I’m letting Lee Donghyuck get that promotion over me.”

That’s right, you tell yourself. I can’t die here. Not before that dumbass.

You’re not sure why you’re suddenly thinking about him again, but it makes you feel a lot less scared when you picture his dumb smirk and that sly glint in his eyes when he’s gearing up to say something to piss you off. He always knows which buttons to press on the exact wrong day to press them.

You kind of wish he was here now. He would probably be cracking stupid jokes and distracting you―

“Y/N!”

Blinking the snowflakes out of your eyes, you squint past the sheet of snow and tall trees, trying to make sure you aren’t hallucinating. You see a blurry figure running towards you and Karina, the beam of their flashlight peeking through the darkness. When did the sun start setting?

Speak of the pretty boy, and he shall come, you suppose, because Lee Donghyuck is suddenly kneeling in front of you.

The smug look he always dons is wiped clean from his face, instead, his eyes are wide like two saucers and his hands are trembling. You can feel how tightly he’s clutching your arms even through the thick material of your parka. His hair is damp against his forehead; whether it’s from snow or sweat or both, you’re not sure. His face is flushed, and his nose is red like Karina’s, but you want to reach out and boop it for some reason. You can see his labored breath come out in white puffs due to the temperature.

“I found them!” Donghyuck calls out, turning behind him. A couple of your other colleagues emerge from the trees, all holding flashlights. Then, he reverts his attention back to you. His face is all furrowed up, like he isn’t sure whether to be mad at you for being reckless or collapse with relief.

“Are you hurt?” he eventually asks, voice strained as he helps you to your feet. He brushes the snow out of your hair and lifts your ski goggles from your eyes, scanning your face.

“Karina twisted her ankle,” you reply numbly, unable to feel your lips.

He glances over at Karina, who’s being helped by your other co-workers, before looking at you again. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head.

Donghyuck exhales loudly, and you watch his shoulders relax. Then he says, “What the hell were you thinking?”

You flinch at his sharp tone. He’s never raised his voice at you before. You’ve always been the one yelling at him.

“You can’t even drive a car, so what on Earth possessed you to try and ski on the advanced slope?” he continues to reprimand you. “What’s the point in being this smart if you’re not going to use common sense―”

You burst into tears.

You cry for many reasons: the sheer terror you’d been trying to keep at bay finally catches up to you, you’re grateful to be alive, you’re upset that Donghyuck is scolding you, you’re happy that Donghyuck is scolding you, and most of all, you know he’s right. He’s right, and you’re glad he’s right. You’re glad that he’s standing in front of you.

“You’re such a dick,” you wail, “I can’t believe you’re yelling at me when I almost died. Why can’t you just comfort me like a normal human with empathy?”

Donghyuck grows quiet, and you see his expression soften. Sighing, he reaches over and swipes the tears from your face. When you sniffle, he takes his expensive cashmere scarf and wipes your nose with it. He doesn’t even blink at the snot on it as he cups your frozen cheeks with his gloved hands. Grinning evilly, he squishes your face together, a mush of tears, snot, and puffiness.

“I’ve never wanted you more,” he teases.

“I’m going to kill you,” you grumble, shoving his hands away. Though you do find solace in the fact that he’s making fun of you again.

Your colleagues call the two of you over for help, and you make your way to Karina, who’s still unable to get up.

“Hyuck, do you mind carrying her back to the resort?” One of them asks, their hands too full with Karina’s skis and their own emergency supplies that they brought.

Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, his eyes inadvertently flashing towards you, before he kneels down and turns his back to Karina as he prepares to give her a piggy-back ride.

“I’m heavy,” Karina warns as she carefully climbs on.

“Don’t worry, I do five pushups a week,” he replies breezily, and despite his joking, he stands to his feet without a problem.

She laughs at that, sounding like an angel descending from the heavens.

He adjusts her thighs in his arms slightly, pausing to ask, “That didn’t hurt your ankle, did it?”

She shakes her head, and he says something else that makes her laugh again.

It’s not that you’re jealous that he’s carrying Karina. After all, she’s injured, so it would be a bit obnoxious to be upset over something that isn’t anyone’s fault. And it’s not like you’re any more special to him than Karina.

No, this feeling isn’t jealousy. It’s…uncertainty.

You’re uncertain that he would do the same for you if you were in Karina’s position. Has he ever reassured you with such ease like he did with her? Has he ever treated you like you were made of glass? Has he ever spoken to you so tenderly like that?

You suddenly feel so cold.

Three.

When you get back to the resort, there’s an ambulance waiting to take you and Karina to the hospital for a checkup. You try to tell everyone that you don’t need to go to the hospital, but your colleagues, Karina, and the paramedics insist on you doing so.

“Your glove is torn.”

Before you can even register his words, Donghyuck is holding your hand and flipping your palm over. The fabric of your right glove is ripped, exposing the tip of your pointer finger. You must’ve scraped it against something in the middle of all the chaos because there’s some dried blood caked around your nail.

“You should go,” he says softly, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze before letting go.

Once Karina is properly settled on the gurney, you’re ushered into the ambulance after her. As the doors close behind you, you catch Donghyuck’s eyes one last time. You don’t get to see what his expression is because you look away almost immediately, focusing your gaze on your finger.

Now that the adrenaline has worn off, it does sting a little.

Two.

Once the hospital finally discharges you and Karina in the middle of the night, the two of you call an Uber back to the resort and clumsily stumble up to your room like two people that just came home after a long night of partying, completely exhausted.

You’re so busy fumbling with your room key and nearly miss the gift that someone has set in front of your door. Picking it up, you realize it’s one of those hot chocolate sets that come with a cute little mug and are wrapped in holographic plastic. There’s also a separate bag of marshmallows beside it.

You don’t really examine it that much, simply handing it off to Karina.

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”

One.

Karina doesn’t notice the note tucked into the holographic plastic until she’s hobbling to the trashcan to throw it away.

happy new year! maybe i’ll grow on you :)

She turns to you to ask you about it, but you’re already tucked in bed fast asleep. Shrugging, she crumples the note up and tosses it away without another thought.

“Happy New Year,” she whispers to you before crawling in bed herself.

It’s a shame you didn’t get to see the fireworks.

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating

“I’m hungry,” you whine, jolting awake and hitting your head against the hard leather headrest on your seat.

“Probably because you emptied out the contents of your stomach onto my Air Jordans,” He Who Shall Not Be Named says wryly.

You ignore him, getting distracted by the hot dog vendor that you drive by.

“I like hot dogs,” you say absentmindedly.

HALLOWEEN 2021 picturing us in all these places, ahead of myself’s an understatement

You just wanted to get away from the crowd, really.

The party was getting a little stuffy, and it’s pretty easy to get overheated when you’re in a thick Teletubby onesie. You and Karina had the bright idea of dressing as the purple and red Teletubby, but neither of you considered just how hot it would get.

So, that’s why you’re wandering around the dim hallways of the office, munching on a handful of candy―only to end up hearing a conversation you shouldn’t have.

“You are my biggest failure.” That’s Mr. Lee’s voice, hushed but angry.

“More than my mom? I’m honored.” It’s Donghyuck this time. He laughs, a bitter and choked sound.

You nearly yelp when the sound of a loud slap echoes down the hallway. No one else talks after that, and you only hear the sound of footsteps walking away.

Actually, walking away sounds like an absolutely amazing idea, so you turn on your heel to make a quick escape―

And of course, on today of all days, you fuck up.

All of the candy that you had been clutching to your chest slips from your sweaty palms, clattering to the floor. Every single clatter makes you shrink further and further into yourself, and you have no choice but to step out from the corner you were hiding in.

In probably one of the most poorly-timed situations of all time, you have to face Donghyuck while dressed as the purple Teletubby, and he has to face you while dressed as a hot dog―right after you just involuntarily witnessed a glimpse of his strained familial relationships.

“Hi,” you greet awkwardly, gesturing to all the candy that just fell on the floor. “You, uh, want some candy?”

When he looks at you, all the words die in your throat. There’s a red mark on his cheek, and he looks like a little boy again. He stares at you like a deer in headlights, a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and frustration all over his face. He seems so lost and alone, and you don’t know what to do to help him.

“No thanks, Tinky Winky,” he finally replies. He gives you a half-smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What?” You blink.

“You’re dressed as the purple Teletubby, and you don’t even know his name?” He raises an eyebrow as he sits down on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“I think it’s weirder that you do know his name,” you try to tease.

He doesn’t react to that, and you just stand there. Not wanting to leave him alone, you squat down and start to pick up the candy on the floor to keep yourself busy.

“You should go back to the party,” Donghyuck says quietly.

“It’s too hot,” you complain.

“Y/N.”

“Wanna watch Twilight?” you suddenly ask.

He stares at you for what seems like forever, his expression unreadable as he searches your face. After a bit longer, he just says, “Okay.”

You gather up the rest of the candy before taking a seat on the floor right next to him, brushing your shoulder against his. Pulling out your phone, you open the Netflix app and start to play Twilight.

You pretend you don’t feel him trembling, and you tell yourself he’s crying because he knows Bella will eventually choose Edward over Jacob. The two of you watch in complete silence; he doesn’t explain, and you don’t ask.

Instead, you push your hood off so you don’t poke him in the face with your triangle antenna and lean your head against his shoulder. Then, you lace your fingers through his and hold his hand without a word.

A hot dog and Tinky Winky the purple Teletubby watching Twilight, who would’ve thought?

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating

“I hate you, Lee Donghyuck.”

He doesn’t say anything to that.

CHRISTMAS 2021 outlines on bedsides, give me a second to forget i ever really meant it

It happened on the last day of work before Christmas break.

You gawk at the opened box in your hands, a pair of fluffy white angora gloves wrapped in fancy wrapping paper staring back up at you. Even though there’s no receipt included, you already know that these gloves cost more than three month’s worth of rent for your apartment.

“Did you steal these? Is that why you’re giving them to me? So you can frame me for your crime?” you ask suspiciously.

“Please,” he rolls his eyes, “as if I’d let you take the credit for any one of my crimes.”

You carefully take the gloves out before tossing the box at him. Catching it deftly and handing it back to you, he pretends to wipe away a tear dramatically.

“I went through the trouble of remembering how your gloves were ripped during the ski trip, so I meticulously picked these out for you,” he whines. “And I can’t believe you’re now questioning my goodwill.”

That makes you pause.

Is he talking about those cheap gloves that you used only once for that disastrous ski trip and then threw out immediately afterwards? The gloves that you haven’t thought about once since then? The gloves that you had to rack your brain to recall when he started talking about them just moments before? You can’t believe he remembered something so random.

Why did he remember?

It’s a question that haunts you on the entire plane ride back to your hometown and follows you throughout all of your family dinners and even when you’re lying awake on your cramped childhood bed.

It’s a question that both baffles and angers you at the same time. You wish he didn’t remember, and you wish he never gave you those gloves in the first place. The company is always generous to their employees around the holidays, and you know that this isn’t anything special, but it makes you feel special. It makes you want to be special. To him.

He is just a pretty boy. A pretty boy that likes indie bands and wears rings on his fingers and metal-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose. A pretty boy that likes League of Legends and Studio Ghibli and Twilight and that one Hallmark movie you once caught him watching in the break room. A pretty boy that drinks black coffee. A pretty boy that drives a red Ferrari. A pretty boy that gave you a ride in that red Ferrari when it was raining. A pretty boy that looked for you for an hour during a snowstorm. A pretty boy that dressed as a hot dog for Halloween. A pretty boy that gave you expensive gloves because he remembered.

When did he go from Pretty Boy to Donghyuck?

But he can’t be Donghyuck. He can’t just be Donghyuck to you. Because that would be too real, too unrestrained. Because Donghyuck makes Karina laugh, so he can’t make you laugh. There needs to be decorum, after all. If he’s just Donghyuck, then what happens after?

That’s right. He can’t be Donghyuck. From now on, you won’t say his name. You’ll only know him as He Who Shall Not Be Named.

It happens when your mom tells you to take the casserole out of the fridge.

You see it, that traitorous pack of hot dog sausages.

You think back to Halloween, and then―

Oh my God, I like him.

“What the fuck,” you groan loudly.

That gets you a couple of gasps from your elderly relatives and an asswhooping from your mom.

ONE DAY AFTER ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022 ― PRESENT fast times and fast nights, no time for rewrites

For the record, Donghyuck was not looking at Karina.

And if you’d stop avoiding him like the plague, he would be able to explain that to you.

He honestly applauds your ability to ignore the elephant in the room, considering that his cubicle is right next to yours. You’ve continuously managed to give yourself more work or conveniently slip away to the bathroom during any moment of down time. His patience is honestly starting to grow thin, but you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t wear it down to the wire.

Donghyuck finally manages to hunt you down in the same hallway where you threw up on his shoes. It’s hilariously ironic, and he would normally make a joke about it, but he’s in a bit of a time crunch. You look like a spooked cat, preparing to dart away the moment there’s an opening.

“Surely, someone as smart as you is aware that you can’t just avoid me forever.” He tilts his head.

“Well, if you move, we can find out if I can or not,” you reply, refusing to look at him and trying to walk past him.

“How’s your hangover?” he asks cheerfully, stepping to the side and blocking your way.

“Awful.”

“Do you remember what happened last night?”

“No,” you say instantly. You’re such a terrible liar.

“You said you hated me,” he starts softly. He isn’t sure why he’s saying this. This isn’t what he wanted to talk about first. The order is getting jumbled in his head. “Do you?”

You suck in a wobbly breath. “No.”

It doesn’t hit him until after your answer how deathly afraid he was of you hating him. He has grown so desensitized to the word “hate,” yet it’s only when it comes to the person he cares about the most that the gravity of that word becomes so apparent.

“I like you, Y/N.”

This isn’t exactly the grand declaration of love that he was imagining; he was thinking more along the lines of The Notebook or any romcom from the early to mid-2000s, but it felt like the right time to just say it now.

Your reaction isn’t exactly what he had in mind either.

You’re gawking at him like he just grew another head. He isn’t sure why you’re so surprised; he hasn’t exactly been subtle about his crush on you.

“No, you don’t,” you say in an accusatory tone. Leave it up to you to even argue with him on his own feelings.

Now it’s his turn to gawk. “What?”

“You don’t like me,” you state firmly, but it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. “How could you like me?”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, and he starts listing off reasons with his fingers. “I start a fight with you every morning because I want to have an excuse to talk to you, I bring you coffee everyday, I drove you to my client’s office in the middle of a storm so you could take back said client, I nearly shat my pants when they said you were missing at the ski resort and also bought you hot chocolate and a huge bag of marshmallows for New Years, and you were the only one I gave a Christmas present to last year.”

“You bought the hot chocolate and marshmallows?” You blink in surprise.

“Is that all you got from what I just said?”

“But Karina―”

Oh, right. He wanted to say this first.

“I wasn’t looking at Karina,” Donghyuck finally confesses, “I was looking at you. It’s always been you.”

That’s right, it’s only ever been you.

The stupid green “Kiss me, I’m Irish” shirt. Your smeared lip gloss that he wanted to kiss right off. The sparkly stickers all over your cheeks that made you look absolutely adorable. The way you buried your face into his shirt. How you fit right into his arms. Even when you threw up all over his favorite pair of shoes, there was no place Donghyuck would rather be.

Do you think I’m pretty? you had asked him.

Yes, you’re pretty. You’re so pretty that he feels like his heart will stop every time he lays his eyes on you. You’re so pretty that he can’t even think about the seasons without thinking about you and how you’re so much more beautiful than autumn, winter, spring and summer and anything in between. There’s never been a moment when you weren’t stunningly, breathtakingly, and heart-stoppingly pretty in his eyes.

“But―But that doesn’t make any sense,” you sputter, “You can’t like me!”

“Why not?”

“Because you just can’t.”

“Do you like me?”

“Yes―no! Regardless, you can’t just suddenly decide you like me―” you begin to explain.

“I’ve always liked you,” he points out.

“We’ve spent four years hating each other, and now all of sudden, we like each other? It’s too abrupt―”

“Y/N.” Donghyuck reaches over and grasps your wrist, his warm fingers against your even warmer skin as his thumb traces circles against the back of your hand. “Will you go out with me?”

When he looks at you, you have the same expression on your face as when he first met you and caught you staring at his Twilight poster. Your eyes dart around nervously, your pulse pounding against his fingertips, and he knows he has his answer.

“Okay,” you breathe.

He sighs, coiling an arm around your waist and pulling your body flush against his. Leaning his forehead against yours, he whispers, “Now was that so fucking hard?”

He kisses you, and you taste like everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #NCT-WRITERS #nct imagines #nct scenarios #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127 imagines #haechan #nct #choerrypuffs

2K notes · View notes

lebrookestore · 2 years

Text

for the record | l.ty

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x reader

Themes: strangers to lovers, rockstar! au, band! au, celebrity! au, journalist! reader, rockstar! taeyong, angst, fluff, slowburn, romance, very light comedy, PG-15; (moodboard)

Warnings: profanity, heavy ANGST, taeyong is a bit entitled at first, problematic paparazzi, kissing, food, alcohol consumption, drug use, a small mention of marijuana and use of it, smoking, lying, inaccurate depictions of the music and well as journalism industry, sexual innuendos, allusions to sex but nothing sexually explicit, suggestive

Word count: 51.4k

Summary: When you're presented with the opportunity to accompany the world’s hottest rock band, Cherry Bomb, on their latest tour for an article, you know it could be your chance at furthering your career and possibly acquiring a spot at the New York Times, every journalists dream. You strive to figure out the truth about all the rumours that seemed to hover around them, but you don’t anticipate are the extent of the lies involved, nor do you account for the charming front man.

Playlist: here

Notes from brooke: she’s finally here! and yes, on seeing that word count you can best believe that i am not just touching grass, but rolling around in it. this was supposed to be 25k but i sort of....got.....carried away....yEP!! it took four, almost five long months to write but i firmly can that it is one of the best things i have written and am very proud of it!! i worked harder on this fic than i have for any of my fics, so feedback would be greatly appreciated!! <3

You knew you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. It was, in no way, professional.

“What do you mean he’s dropping out?” Johnny’s voice was just loud enough to reach your ears from where you stood outside his office, saving you from the embarrassment of having to press your ear against the door. The editor had the habit of being pretty loud when he was distressed or pissed off, and that little fact was currently working to your advantage well. You stood there, holding your notes and listening carefully to the one side of the conversation you were unintentionally privy to.

“Are you kidding me? It’s the biggest piece he’d ever get to work on,” Johnny hissed and you could almost imagine him getting up from his seat and pacing around the room. You had been working at The Link newspaper for around nine months now and had managed to pick up the smallest details about your co-workers, a habit of yours had often helped you many a time.

The fact that Johnny had called this a big piece didn’t sound like much- after all, this was Los Angeles. There was a story waiting for you at every turn and corner if you looked hard enough for it, with so many aspiring actors and young D-List starlets running around the place, falling head first into any trouble they could find as long as it got them their fifteen minutes of fame.

LA hadn’t been the place you had initially wanted to end up in, far from it actually, but it was a start, one that you had taken on valiantly. After all, everyone had to start somewhere, and your brilliant plan was to somehow make it out of the sandy beaches of California and to the concrete jungles of New York by any means possible.

There was silence for a little bit, and you found yourself biting down on your lower lip, wishing you had access to the other end. A little shuffling, and then a frustrated-sounded slew of cursing.

“Damnit Taeil, that album went platinum in almost every country. That article would have gotten Jungwoo a spot in the New York Times if he wanted! He’s a fucking fool for dropping out.”

And now your mind was racing because the NYT had been your dream ever since your senior year of high school. Journalism was everything you loved and breathed, the fact making itself known when you worked on a newsletter for your school that year and realized how much you truly enjoyed the work of it. Managing to get a job at The Link barely a few months after you graduated from University was a feat in itself, but you had always loved dreaming big.

It seemed like Johnny was now done with the call because nothing more was being said. Remembering what you were there for in the first place, you readjusted your notes and knocked on the door politely.

You were one of the younger journalists at the paper, which also meant that you had mostly been assigned the less….appealing articles to work on. Things that no one ever read, the little pieces that were just there on the paper for decoration almost, but you still gave them your all.

You also knew that you were capable of much more.

“Come in.”

The usual jovial lilt that Johnny’s voice held was gone, now replaced with resignment over something he had clearly tried his best to avoid happening. You had a pretty good idea of what was going on by this point but didn’t want to jump to conclusions. A good journalist always did their research first.

Pushing the door open, you walked up to his desk where he sat, and placed your notes down, glancing up to meet his eyes.

Johnny Suh, editor-in-chief of The Link, was your boss. Graduating from a prestigious college and landing the job almost immediately after came with its perks, one of them being working directly under someone so high ranking. You supposed the flipside of being so lucky were the shitty topics you had been given to write about.

One thing you wanted to make very clear during this meeting was that you were just as good as your older colleagues. The editor was a no-nonsense type of guy, as easy-going as he was firm, so you knew you didn’t have to put on any frills or fancies to catch his attention.

“The notes from my last article,” You informed him gesturing towards the file you had put down on his desk. After he nodded, you narrowed your eyes at him. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?”

“Your call with Mr Moon,” You prompted, taking a seat on the usually empty chairs opposite him to relieve your feet from standing on those stilettos that you wore to work. He raised a disapproving eyebrow.

“I don’t appreciate my calls being listened in on.”

“A good journalist has ears everywhere,” You countered smoothly, knowing just want to say to gain the advantage. Johnny sighed, somewhat impressed at how quickly you had managed to justify your actions even though they weren’t something he approved of. Although new, you had never been one to back down from a challenge, no matter what the task given to you was and he respected it.

Which was why he decided to tell you what the call was about, however risky that was. Stretching his arms out in front of him, he rested them on the mahogany desk in front of him and put your notes to the side, finally looking at you and the determined look on your face.

“Jungwoo dropped the most important article we could ever lay our hands on,” He stated bitterly, visibly annoyed by this fact. “Do you know of Cherry Bomb?”

A stupid question. Practically everyone knew who Cherry Bomb was even if they didn’t want to. The band had taken the world by storm from their very first album and held it by the neck throughout, even four years later, claiming their spot as the hottest band of the decade. You weren’t a die-hard fan by any means, but you indulged in listening to their music on occasion because they were admittedly fantastic.

The mention of an album from earlier made a little more sense now. You nodded, eager to know where this was going.

“They’re going on tour soon,” He continued, “Jungwoo’s task was to accompany them and write an article on it. It might not sound like much, but with the pull that they have, anything written about them is considered excellent. It could have made his career as a journalist, but the idiot decided to drop out.”

The information he just dropped was pure gold to you. You could agree on one thing- Jungwoo was a complete imbecile for letting something like this slip through his fingers, but you also loved him for it.

“Give it to me,” You offered immediately, sitting up straight in the uncomfortable chair. It was the opportunity of a lifetime in your eyes and there was no way in hell you weren’t going to jump.

“Come again?”

“Give the piece to me,” You repeated, crossing your arms over each other and leaning back. “The Cherry Bomb one, I can do it.”

He frowned, “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

You grimaced, disguising it poorly as you shook your head, determined. “Yes I am, I’m young enough to fit right in on a tour, and since I’m so new, unassuming enough to get all the details.”

Your points were valid because people loved someone unknown and small enough to be manipulated, a front you could put up to truly extract the information you needed. He shut his eyes for a moment, thinking it over before shaking his head once again.

“Y/n, I think you’re extremely talented, but-”

“But what?” You didn’t let him finish, refusing to leave the office without landing the article. “With all due respect, sir, cut the crap. The things I’ve been working on are stupid and unimportant, the last article you assigned to me was about lines outside of stores.”

You almost wished that wasn’t true, but it was. Because of it, you had been subjected to waking up early and walking about the city, interviewing random people who decided to spend their morning hours waiting outside a store for some sort of product- whether that be a new release of shoes, tickets for some sort concert, or even the new Cherry Bomb album.

You also knew you were pushing it because, for the most part, you were very respectful and careful about how you spoke with your colleagues, especially your boss, but you wanted to make sure he knew you meant business. Jungwoo’s trash would be your treasure.

He studied the expression your wore on your face and it told him that you weren’t going to back down in the slightest. Pressing his tongue to the side of his cheek, he contemplated your proposition. It would certainly make things easier, he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of telling Taeil to pick someone else. One less thing to worry about.

“There's just….one thing.”

You waited patiently, knowing from experience that people tended to give out more information if you stayed quiet. It was human tendency to want to fill a silence and you knew just how to take advantage of that.

“There seems to be a lot of dirt around the frontman of the band,” He drummed his fingers on his desk. “Lee Taeyong.”

“What type of dirt?”

“The type of dirt that the public love. Messy rumours and stories that everyone wants to know the truth behind. This piece isn’t so much about the tour and the band as it is about him.”

So that’s why this was so important. “An exposé?”

“Not exactly,” He clarified, “He’s been in quite a few scandals and they’ve been covered several times, but this piece is just to see if he’s improved and to get the truth behind it all. The good thing about it is that it doesn’t have to be anything too groundbreaking. It could be an article praising them for all I know and it would still do fantastic.”

The smile on your face widened even more. He was giving you information and that meant that you practically had this in the bag. This piece was yours, you just had to tip him over the edge to get a formal ‘yes’ from him. “I’ll write the best article you’ve ever seen.”

He adjusted his position in his seat, “You’ll be gone for months and will have to travel with them throughout the entire tour. Are you okay with that?”

“More than okay,” You assured him quickly. If anything, the prospect of being able to travel around the world only made you want this more. From what you had gathered, this was your chance at boosting your career and making a name for yourself in the journalism industry, inching closer and closer to your goal.

“Fine,” Johnny relented, “I honestly don’t have the time to think about this any further, so I’m trusting you won’t let me down. It’s gonna be a big step up from lines.”

You scoffed, crossing your legs over each other and drumming your fingers on the side of the spinning chair you sat in. This wasn’t what you had come to his office for at all, but you were, by no means, complaining. On the contrary, you were ecstatic, because you knew that this was exactly what you needed.

“Once I’m done, you won’t even think about making me write about lines ever again.”

From the very moment Taeyong walked through the door, he could tell that Irene was beyond pissed.

It wasn’t a new sight to him, he had been subjected to an angry manager many, many times before, almost too many to count. Since he was so used to it, he didn’t pay her too much attention as he plopped down on the couch in the studio, lazily resting his arm on the armrest and propping his legs up on the table in front of it.

“He lives,” Yuta muttered under his breath, the slightest smile on his face. Taeyong let his eyes scan the room, noting that each one of the members of his band- and his best friends- were present. He had known most of them since they were wide-eyed teenagers in high school with big dreams. Now, even four years later, there was not another group of people he would rather be stuck with.

Yuta was the drummer and a damn good one at that, the type of person who could make a beat out of almost anything he was presented with. He felt the most comfortable when he was sitting behind his drums, drumsticks in hand.

“Were we having a party I wasn’t told about?”

The don’t-care-ish tone of his voice very visibly didn’t sit well with Irene, whose glare only grew in intensity. She slapped a tabloid of sorts on the wall beside her, lips pinched in a mixture of exasperation and anger.

“This is not a party, Taeyong. With your track record, you should never be allowed into one.” Her words were clipped and swift, but she had always been one to literally and figuratively rip the bandaid off. Unaffected, he pouted.

“Aw, what did I do now?” The moment he said that she held that very tabloid up for the entire band to squint at, and he could just about make out the headline of it.

“You,” she said the pronoun with such distaste that Taeyong had half a mind to act offended, but he knew better than that. If anything, he probably deserved the treatment she was dishing out to him right now. “Went and got caught by the paps a few nights ago, drunk as fuck with another girl hanging off your arm like candy.”

His eyes focused on the poorly taken picture that was plastered all over the front of the tabloid. As terrible as the photograph was, one thing that fame had taught him was that if you had fans, you could be recognized from just about anything, and it was definitely him on there.

He didn’t even remember the girl's name. Pity.

“You called us all here for this?” Doyoung cut through the silence, a disgruntled look on his face. Doyoung was on keys (synthesizer to be exact), but was somewhat of a prodigy, being able to master almost any instrument he put his mind to and could probably be his own band if he wanted to. He was also what you’d refer to as the responsible one of the group, the one with the least drama and frankly and no interest in it at all.

The other two in the band were Mark and Jeno, two guitarists that were excellent in their own right. Jeno was the youngest, and the only one that hadn’t known the rest since their high school days. They met the boy at the building of their label, and he blended in so well with the rest of the band that having him be a part of it had been a no-brainer decision to make.

“I was just having some fun,” Taeyong protested, “All the other guys do it as well.”

“Yes Taeyong, but they aren’t the front of the group, neither are they the media's favourite portrayal of a fuckboy, even if you live up to that title better than you should.” She snipped agitatedly, slapping the tabloid against the wall, prompting him to sigh.

That was what he was. Lee Taeyong, frontman, and the bassist. He was also one of the main vocalists, though the entire band did the singing as a team.

When he started out at the tender age of nineteen, he never expected to be thrust into the limelight as he had been. Managing to land the record deal when they were nothing more than wide-eyed kids with a dream was a miracle in itself, but what seemed like an overnight success was overwhelming.

He had taken on the role of something of a leader within the band, but it had come with its own set of rules. Being the face of the group meant that he received more attention than the others, something he had never been pleased about due to situations like this, but he had gotten used to it.

So what if he was known as the fuckboy?

He was the fuckboy that had several shiny awards under his name, and he was fine with owning it.

Enter Irene, their manager who had been with the group since day one. Now, she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, carefully so that her pointed nude-coloured acrylic nails wouldn’t dig into her perfect skin.

“Tour is coming up,” She warned sternly, “For once could you put on your big boy pants and behave? You have to be on your best behaviour.”

“Irene,” He drawled, “When am I not an angel?”

“Your halo looks a lot like devil horns from here,” She grumbled, shutting her eyes and mentally counting to ten. Despite all her complaining about their wild lifestyle, he knew she loved being with them too much to quit working for them. Taeyong grinned unabashedly, sinking further into the plush cushioning of the sofa to get comfortable.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Look, I mean it when I say I need you guys to be good on tour,” She explained. “It’s all of your chance of clearing your name to an extent. A journalist is accompanying us this time and one article that doesn’t talk about any of you being drunk or running out of a bar with yet another woman would be lovely for your image. We work our asses off to keep you out of shit so the least you could do is take advantage of this.”

She was speaking to the entire group, but Taeyong knew it was a message specifically for him. He was no stranger to the speech and was frankly pretty bored of it at this point. He always loved the spotlight, he had been made to be on stage and in the studio, but if there was one thing he despised about it all was how unfair the media could be.

Cherry Bomb was only four- almost five years old, but its popularity came with its drawbacks, one they had to get used to early on. Their lives weren’t normal in the slightest, but after experiencing it daily, it turned into the new normal.

“A journalist?” Jeno asked sceptically, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “I thought we kept the press off our asses during tour.”

The world tour, one to promote their latest album, Cherry On Top, and the most highly anticipated one of theirs yet. This was an important year for them, with the tour and the hope for Grammy nominations, everything had to go perfectly.

“Typically- yes- but Renjun and I both agree that this could be good for the band since it’s more of an observational piece.” She mentioned their publicist, who was miraculously somehow even more hot-headed than she was. Another person Taeyong was used to upsetting on the daily because it was their publicist's job to keep his fan image intact, and he always managed to disrupt that.

Irene glanced at him, a wary look on her face. “So please Taeyong, this is important, especially after what….has transpired.”

She didn’t have to elaborate at all because he knew exactly what she was talking about, all of them did. It brought a bitter taste to his tongue, but he swallowed it, forcing himself to give her his usual lazy smile.

“Of course, I’ll be good,” He promised, making a show of putting his hand over his heart as if he was swearing on it, dragging his index finger over the area in a crossing motion even though he knew well enough that it didn’t hold much weight, “I’ll let someone else have a chance to lash out. Give Doyoung a turn to be freaky.”

In response, the ever-serious Doyoung threw one of the pillows at him. Taeyong yelped, managing to catch it right in time before it fell to the floor, digging his fingers into the foam pillow to grip it better. The manager shook her head, tired of their childish antics.

Even with the nonchalant attitude he possessed and his quick wit, he wasn’t stupid, not in the slightest. The latest thing he had been accused of was not something to laugh about, but he had become pretty good at ignoring the paparazzi that he knew he’d manage to get out of it easily enough- he had to.

For the band.

It started to hit you that this was really happening when you found yourself standing alone in one of the tour buses.

There were four of them in total, one for the band, the manager, the publicist and you and three for the staff. You had arrived early to get a feel for everything and settle in so that you weren’t completely lost. All the buses were parked as of now, waiting for their occupants to arrive.

In the few weeks that you had to prepare, you had done intensive research. You knew each of their names and their roles in the band, you had listened to some of their music to familiarise yourself with it, making sure that you weren’t going to be tagging along like some sort of wide-eyed kid.

You were a professional, and you were going to make sure you seemed like one.

“Who the hell are you?”

You whipped your head around to see a man standing there with a perplexed look on his face. He was staring at you like you were some sort of criminal who had broken into the vehicle, and so to dispute this possible theory, you cleared your throat to introduce yourself.

“I’m doing a piece for The Link? The journalist?” You prompted in hopes that it would jog his memory as you walked over and held your hand out. “Y/n L/n.”

Recognition flashed through his eyes as he took your hand and shook it firmly, nodding. “Right, Huang Renjun, I’m Cherry Bombs publicist. Sorry about that, but catching a crazed fan who managed to sneak in the last tour is enough to get someone paranoid.”

Jesus Christ. You shook your head, a little surprised at that tidbit of new information. You weren’t a part of the majority who did listen to the band religiously, so you didn’t know much about the fan culture at all, but from the looks of it, it seemed to be pretty crazed.

“Don’t worry about it,” You assured him, giving him a warm smile so that he’d feel more at ease around you. In the back of your mind, you made a mental note to try and keep him out of your way as much as possible, because a publicist's job, along with the managers, is to make sure that their client looks good at any given moment.

For this reason alone, it was quite unfortunate that you had been assigned to share a living space with them over the next five months. Your job was to get the most authentic version of the truth that you possibly could, while theirs was to project the perfect image. The contradiction was going to be tough to work around, but you would somehow have to make it work.

You were only accompanying them for the North American leg of the tour, which meant that after those five months they would be leaving for another three months to finish the rest of the shows.

“Well, you’re pretty early,” He observed, scanning the inside of the bus. “The guys have just arrived with Irene, so if you want to meet them you can go do that now.”

You thanked him politely and left the bus, giving him time to settle in by himself. Since it was the first time you would be meeting them, there was no reason to take your phone with you to record any sort of interview (something you’d have to do during the course of the tour). For now, all you needed to do was get acquainted with the people you would be dealing with.

Walking out to the front, you saw a group of people conversing. The woman was instructing the rest of them- presumably staff- where they had to go. Off to her side was an even smaller group of just four people, but you knew who they were the moment you set your eyes on them.

Cherry Bomb.

Sucking in a deep breath, you psyched yourself up for what was to come. When the larger group dispersed, you decided that it would be a good time to finally meet your topic.

The heels of your boots clicked on the gravelled floor as you made your way over, rehearsing what you were going to say in your head. Confidence was another thing that was crucial in your line of work since most of the time, journalists had to put themselves in the thick of their work. Experience what they were writing upfront just like you were supposed to.

Other than your love for writing, it was your love for travel that pulled you into journalism. Growing up in a middle-class family meant that you had lived a fairly comfortable life with a roof over your head and a warm plate of food on the table, but it didn’t include the extravagant holidays abroad that you had seen all your friends go on. You were stuck at home every summer while they experienced a part of the world that they had never been to before. You knew that some articles would require you to travel, which meant that you could do what you truly loved.

Like now. This tour was possibly the best thing that could have ever happened to you because it was five whole months of travelling. Granted, you wouldn’t be able to fully enjoy every single destination, but it was better than nothing at all.

The woman turned around and spotted you, asking a question before you even had the chance to speak. “Are you the journalist?”

“Pleased to meet you, I am,” You continued as smoothly as you could, even though she had completely thrown you off by being so abrupt. Clearly, she was much more prepared than the publicist. Looking away from her, you eyed the boys that stood beside her before realizing something.

One was missing.

“Right well, this is Doyoung, Yuta, Jeno, Mark, and I would introduce you to Taeyong, but he’s late.” The unamused tone of voice that she used told you that it wasn’t the first time the mentioned man had been late, but you brushed past it, smiling courteously at the other members that were present at that moment.

You introduced yourself once again, noting each one of them. Of course, you knew who they were already, you had made sure to memorize who was who so you’d have an easier time working.

For world-famous rockstars, they weren’t really all that intimidating. One of them- Jeno you remembered- returned your smile cheerfully, his eyes turning into little crescents of joy. It was honestly kind of cute and the others greeted you in the same way, welcoming. The politeness of your simper almost turned into something genuine, but that would have been far too much for a first encounter.

Doyoung’s expression, however polite, was doused in scrutiny towards you, but you couldn’t blame him. It was warranted.

Stay professional, you repeated silently to yourself. As lovely as they might be, this is a job, you’re not here to make friends. They knew you were supposed to be there, they were used to the attention.

Still, maybe making friends with them would be a good idea. If there was a level of trust between all of you, you’d effectively be able to get much more out of them-

“Must you always start without me?”

Your thoughts scattered almost immediately at the sound of the new voice like someone had thrown them out into the wind before you could even protest against it. The smooth, low tone of it went straight to your stomach and no one had ever been able to do that before.

You looked to your side to see who it belonged to, lips parting when you noticed the new face.

Dark messy hair that had a hint of red in it and intense eyes, crimson lips that had no doubt had thousands of teenage girls around the globe wishing they could press a kiss on them, he stood there in all his glory. He donned a jacket over a simple tee shirt and jeans, but there was just something about the way he carried himself that made it seem like more, one of those rare, enigmatic specimens of humankind.

Lee Taeyong.

And god, he was exceptionally beautiful. The music videos you had watched didn’t do him justice.

You didn’t even need the woman to tell you who he was, because you knew him very well, or at the very least, you knew most of the surface-level stuff. While you had done your digging into all the members, it was him who you had focused the most upon due to the tip Johnny had given you. He was the actual reason you were here.

“We wouldn’t if you showed up on time,” She scowled. He seemed completely unfazed at this. “Cut me some slack Irene, I left on time. There was traffic, including a swarm of fans outside my house.” He grimaced at that last bit, like the fresh memory of it was too much for him.

You had to take back your previous statement of them not being intimidating because Taeyong definitely was. His dark brown irises slowly swept over the group, deliberately even, and came to rest on you. A cocky smile rested on those lips of his and intrigue entered his eyes as he studied you.

Most of your intel was public knowledge. His name, the fact that he was twenty-three and had been in the spotlight since he was just nineteen, which was by normal standards, barely a freshman in college. Of course, nothing about him was normal at all, but it was the comparison you had chosen to remember the fact.

And then there were the more interesting things. All the scandals he had managed to get pulled into, the way his name seemed to ghost every major celebrity slip up. From being caught on the regular with a new supposedly unsuspecting girl wrapped around his little finger to being caught drunk in Vegas, it was all too amusing to read.

Then you found something that put all of those measly scandals to shame. This? This was the real deal.

Superstar Lee Taeyong Sleeping His Way to the Top?

From the moment you spotted the article, you knew you had to know more. It wasn’t something that could be easily brushed to the side like the other rumours, it was a serious accusation that could potentially involve a nasty court case if it rippled out of control. Fortunately, there wasn’t much evidence for now.

It seemed like the writer of it knew this very well because they had remained anonymous. Worse, it had gotten a lot of attention from major media outlets and all of them started pointing out how quickly the band had managed to gain popularity and hit the charts. It seemed to fall into place perfectly.

But you knew how the media worked, you knew that anyone and everyone would pounce on the chance to sell a story, and this wasn’t any different. You knew that the real thing- the truth- was often much simpler to explain. Most of the time, it was a far cry from what was being thrown around by tabloids and newspapers.

And you were going to figure out exactly that.

“And you are?” He inquired after a minute or so, the weight of his gaze had you rooted to the spot, cheeks warming. Even though this was the third time that day you would be introducing yourself, something about it felt a little different. Part of you was dying to find out if he was like they said, the other part wanted to know the person beneath that.

“Y/n,” You said slowly, “I’m a journalist doing a piece about the band and the tour.”

That infuriatingly attractive smirk on his face never faltered as he nodded. “Lovely to meet you, I hope we’re interesting enough.”

He hadn’t even bothered to tell you who he was like he somehow knew you had come prepared. You pressed your lips together, caught off guard with how self-assured he was, but also very intrigued.

“I’m sure you are.”

Somehow, Taeyong was everything you had expected and nothing like it at all.

The first night consisted of travelling, shouts on the bus you were staying on and music being played. You made small talk with the band, mostly Jeno, and sometimes with Renjun, but mostly watched from the sidelines. You joined them for dinner and laughed under your breath at the bickering between Doyoung and Taeyong and the sarcastic comment Yuta made about them in the passing.

You were surprisingly comfortable around all of them and your polite smile turned into a genuine one throughout the evening. Part of you was glad about that, the entire ordeal would be much easier to deal with if you weren’t constantly guarded.

It was the day of the first show of the Cherry On Top tour, the Chicago one, which was where you had woken up that day on the bus. You had never seen a more efficient set of staff as they quickly worked to set up the stage for the show that evening, from special effects to lighting, they worked hard to create a show the fans would remember and love.

Currently, you sat in the empty stadium, smack dab in the middle with an excellent view of the stage where the band was rehearsing. Even though it was just a simple rehearsal where they only ran through their songs and made adjustments when needed, it was still fascinating to watch their process.

The stage was huge, and even though there were dancers to fill up the space, the five men managed to dominate the entire thing, their presence striking and eye-catching.

It was also becoming increasingly obvious why Taeyong was the frontman of the group. He stood in the middle, guitar in hand as he sang into the mic, managing to grasp the entirety of your attention. The others were jaw-dropping as well, but there was something about him that was so entrancing that you couldn’t look away.

You told yourself that it was because you had to pay attention to him, nothing more, but he was a hard person not to pay attention to.

Soon, they called for a break, leaving their instruments on stage to come back to later. You didn’t move, however, staying nestled comfortably in your seat as you intently watched all of this take place. After all, the major part of your job was to observe, the smaller, much more important bit would only come with time but you weren’t too worried about it considering you had months to figure that out.

It kind of felt like you were on vacation and part of you wanted to get up and offer help, feeling very out of place as you saw everyone else running about, but you had to stop yourself from doing so. It wasn’t your place, and you’d have something to write by the third week of the tour for sure.

“Enjoying the show?”

You startled slightly, looking up to see Taeyong standing to the side of your seat, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. Once you had acknowledged his presence, he settled down in the seat next to you, legs slightly spread as he stretched his arms in front of him.

“The best show I’ve been to,” You said with a small grin, truthful. “And the only one.”

Surprise took over those pretty features of his. “You’ve never been to a concert?” He spoke like you had committed some sort of cardinal sin, blasphemy even.

“Nope,” You popped the p, shaking your head. The truth was that you would have killed to have gone to one as a kid, but just like travelling really hadn’t ever been in the cards for you, neither had a concert. You had had several artists you loved, but concert tickets were expensive, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask your parents if you could get any.

“The first time I went to one was when I was fourteen.” His eyes were trained on the stage, the nostalgic look in them catching your attention. You sat up a little straighter, ready to drink in the information he was about to give you. “It was the moment I knew I wanted to do that for the rest of my life.”

“Something tells me you never go back on your word.” You acknowledged. Almost ten years later, he was doing exactly what he had promised himself he would and you admired the hell out of it.

“I don’t,” He hummed in confirmation, before finally looking back at you. “So, what do you think? About our performance, I mean.”

You thought about it for a moment before you answered him. “I think I’ll wait until the actual performance till I form an opinion, so it’s the most accurate, but so far I think you guys are amazing.”

Taeyong raised an eyebrow as if to say he didn’t believe that, “You don’t already have an opinion?”

“Was I supposed to?” You countered back, holding his gaze. You had interviewed plenty of people before, but never had you challenged them back- it wasn’t your job. What you were set to do was to gather information and string that information into something to be read, so you couldn’t quite explain why you had become so bold all of a sudden.

A slow, languid smile spread on his mouth as he studied your face like he held a secret that no one else knew and it amused him.

“People like you always have opinions.”

“People like me?”

“Journalists,” He said simply, and you would have been offended if you didn’t know he was right. The celebrity world thrived on opinions, they were the fuel to the ever-burning fire, fanning it day in and day out so it would never die.

And you knew for a fact that he had been subjected to the majority of all those opinions, some less civil than others. It should have been enough for him to be completely reclusive towards you, yet, he was somehow so calm around you and had even made the effort to come up there and talk to you.

He was really something, you concluded, something you wanted to figure out.

“I prefer to have sight of the entire picture instead of drawing assumptions from thin air.” You chose your words carefully. “That work for you?”

The look in his eyes softened a little into something more genuine and he nodded, agreeing with you. “You’re going to base your opinion off of a performance that you view backstage?”

“I got a frontstage view from here, and the best part is that it’s without all the screaming fans.”

“I love it when we walk on stage and the entire stadium is screaming,” He admitted with a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s invigorating, sometimes we can’t even hear the music in our earpieces because of it.” You could tell that the band had a very strong bond just from the way he spoke about them- it was almost a little envy-inducing if you were being honest.

He let out a soft sigh, tapping his fingers absentmindedly against the plastic handrest of the seat. “But there’s something magical about empty stadiums too, the silence is…deafening almost, but in the best way possible. All this silence is somehow filled by the evening, and I didn’t realize how much that meant until I experienced it first hand.”

He still hadn’t looked away, and the air between the two of you shifted ever so slightly like you had gone from strangers to acquaintances.

Maybe more. It wasn’t rocket science for anyone to notice the interest you held in him- professional or not- neither was it hard to pick up on his effort to come to talk to you.

“I can never choose if I like the emptiness or the full one more,” He confessed quietly to you, and it was only then you realized how close he was. For some reason, even though that little bit of information wasn’t anything groundbreaking, it felt important. He felt more real than any other person you had ever interviewed had, and that sounded cold in a way, but that was just how it was.

(Then again, your most fantastic piece until this point had been about people standing in lines-er - not something you were entirely proud of.)

“Maybe you don’t have to choose,” You muttered, your voice somehow sounding louder than it actually was. “Maybe you can have it all.”

It was only then that he looked away, scoffing slightly under his breath. The spell was broken, snapping you out of the slight trance he had managed to put you under, and you pressed your lips together, watching as his demeanour changed in the blink of an eye.

“In our world? No one can have it all.”

The opening act had just finished and the crowd was riled up, excited for the main event coming up. Kim Hyoyeon, a rising pop-rock star, was said to be amazing on stage and she definitely lived up to it, giving the fans exactly what they wanted and just enough to prepare them for what was to come.

Backstage was the epitome of chaos, you couldn’t keep track of anything that was happening at any given point in time. You didn’t know how Irene managed to stay so calm the entire time, but you chalked it up to her being used to the commotion. The look on her face was serene as she dished out instructions without even breaking a sweat.

Of course, it was a different story when the boys actually emerged from their greenrooms with make-up artists flocking them to touch up their make-up. They looked fantastic, feeding into their signature rocker look with the leather jackets and ripped jeans that drove the crowd wild.

Each outfit was different but tied together well regardless, making them look like the perfect team.

And for some reason, you lingered on Taeyong, who donned a red leather jacket that matched his hair over a black vest that was loosely buttoned over leather pants. To top it off, several pretty earrings hung from his ear piercings, the icing on the cake. He was the type of guy who stood out and was gorgeous in every situation, but with the way, his hair was styled and make-up was done, that attribute of his was elevated.

In short, Lee Taeyong was hot as hell, and you were willing to bet on the fact that he knew it.

“You’re on in five,” Irene warned them and like clockwork, they all made their way towards a part of the stage that had been previously lowered down with all their instruments arranged on it. Yuta took his place behind the drums, Doyoung behind the keyboard and Mark, Jeno and Taeyong picked up their respective guitars. Then they gathered together and put their hands together, saying something before yelling out the name of their band. A pre-show ritual, you presumed.

Just as they did, Taeyong glanced back and somehow spotted you throughout the chaos. The side of his mouth curled up into a wry smirk as he adjusted his guitar in his hands and mouthed.

‘Enjoy the show.’

Hyoyeon returned backstage and it was then when the part of the stage that they were standing on began to slowly rise. You could hear the screams of the fans get louder with every passing second as the band emerged for them to see. To you, however, they dulled out due to the fact that you were still caught up in the fact that he chose to look at you.

Oh lord. What on earth were you thinking? You had known this man for a grand total of three days give or take, and even saying you knew him was a stretch.

But you did. You knew far too much.

The music began, loud and intense, you could feel it in your stomach even backstage. You could just about hear their voices and how well they blended with each other, having much more energy and stage presence than they did in the afternoon. After all, this was the real deal, the real show.

The first show of the tour was today, and the tour itself would last from May to the beginning of September. It was the kickstart, the show they had to start with an absolute bang to set the tone for the rest of it. Even though you couldn’t see them out there, you were kind of glad you decided to wait before forming a proper opinion to present to Taeyong. You could tell that they were one hell of a band just from listening to them play.

You didn’t get to see them during the twenty-second breaks they got to change outfits, but you could see the commotion that followed with the staff running around with the clothes and water bottles with straws in them. The scene jerked you to reality and reminded you that you were supposed to be noting things down to write about.

All you had been doing was enjoying and basking in the feeling the concert was giving you, but you weren’t getting paid to write about your feelings, were you?

Definitely not.

It was over just as quickly as it began and you were envious of those sitting outside that were able to watch the show and take it in its entirety. Now, you had to put together what you remembered from the rehearsal with what you could hear from where you were with your imagination. It wasn’t like you had a terrible imagination or anything of the sort, quite the opposite. What you were a little afraid of was that if you ever did get the opportunity to see the show, it wouldn’t live up to what you had concocted in your mind.

That was ridiculous because what you were here to do was to tell the truth, not to hope for something else. And besides, you were sure that it would be positively out of this world.

They walked backstage as the show ended, grins painting their faces with pride at what they had just done. A smile of your own made its way onto your face as you watched them saunter out. Yuta raised a closed fist in the air with a triumphant look and the rest follow suit after him.

Backstage erupted in cheers for the successful first show and you were quickly pulled in to celebrate with them, even though you had nothing to do with it. For once, even Irene allowed herself to smile at Taeyong, which was a rare sight on the observation of the constant glares she sent his way and the expression of pleasant surprise on his face.

But then she said something to him and the happy look in his eyes dulled out ever so slightly, no one else would have caught it. He swallowed and then turned to look at you from across the room as she continued to speak. He dropped his eyes and nodded and she smiled again, patting his shoulder and walking away.

You didn’t know why, but suddenly you had the strong urge to try and reinstall the look he had before she said whatever she did that managed to take it away. The feeling was quick and rushed but strong and without even thinking you began walking over to do just that.

“My opinion remains,” You said after clearing your throat. For a split second, the usual self-assured look that he possessed wasn’t there, but just as quickly as it had disappeared, it was back. He raised an expectant eyebrow, prompting you to continue.

“The best show I’ve ever been to,” You repeated your words from earlier. “Even if I didn’t get to properly watch it.”

He was amused, you could tell from the way he was looking at you. Something about it had a flame alight in the pit of your stomach and you were mystified by it because it had never happened before, for you weren’t the type of girl who was easily flustered or affected by simply a look given in your direction by a pretty boy.

You were usually good at deciphering what you felt, but this time you were at a loss, grasping at any semblance of an idea for what it could be that your mind presented to you.

Taeyong leaned over a little, “You will one day.”

And with that he strolled off, disappearing once again behind the doors of his green room. Once he was out of sight, you let out a breath that you didn’t even know you had been holding in and grabbed one of the water bottles from the table, unscrewing it and taking a large gulp.

Thinking was turning out to be dangerous, but for some reason, you didn’t want to stop.

“This isn’t water.”

Taeyong held out the plastic bottle he had taken from the mini fridge on the tour bus in front of his face, before throwing a confused look at his bandmates. It was only them who were awake then, still high off the adrenaline rush the show had given them, while everyone else was sleeping in the upstairs section of the bus.

“It’s not,” Mark confirmed without even looking up from his laptop. “It’s vodka.”

He wasn’t surprised, and shrugged, taking another swig of the drink and settling down on the couch. Smuggling alcohol onto the bus wasn’t a first, they had been doing so since before they were even legally allowed to drink, and although he was sure their manager knew about it, over time she found it easier to just let it slide. The number of things one could get away with when they were famous was astounding, some things better than others.

“I’m surprised you’re here with us and not at some bar,” Doyoung cut into the conversation, squinting at his friend. Taeyong frowned lightly at that statement and how it made him sound, even though he knew band mates didn’t think of him like that.

“I do that when we have a few days in the city, not if we’re travelling straight away.”

Doyoung must have noticed the slight clench in Taeyong’s jaw because he continued. “There’s nothing wrong with it, I just thought you were following Irene’s orders. Best behaviour and shit for Y/n.”

Taeyong sighed and took another large sip of the vodka. This conversation was reminding him far too much of the brief one he had had with his manager right after his show, something he really didn’t want to think about.

“It’s started perfectly Taeyong, don’t ruin it.”

Irene’s cold gaze was trained on him, making sure every word had sunken in because she was right, unfortunately. The first show had been a roaring success, good enough to drown out the rumour that had clung onto his skin more than anything ever had.

“You might not think it, because she wasn’t the reporter we were expecting to be tagging along, but she is watching. Don’t be fooled.” She warned, before patting his shoulder twice to make up for her harsh words. Encouragement on the smallest scale.

The moment she said that Taeyong looked at you. He didn’t know how he could feel you already watching him from where you were, but it only solidified what she had said about you, as much as he didn’t want to believe it. You were different from the press he had to deal with on the daily, you were genuine- or at least, that’s how he perceived you.

He hoped he was right because not even a moment you walked up to him and said something that had a smile threatening to break out on his face. He liked the fact you seemed different and he wanted it to be true, to be pleasantly surprised for once.

Scandals- he didn’t give two shits about them. Stressing over them was a waste of time, for the most part, created by a reporter that needed a little boost to their name because they were bad at actually finding credible information. They were rumours that were taken way out of proportion and everyone in the business was a goddamn hypocrite.

So he went out for a drink? Big fucking deal, everyone did that. He would never understand how he got backlash for letting loose once in a while when millions of people around the globe did the exact same thing, sometimes more so than he did. The media loved exaggerating and more often than not, taking things out of proportion when there was no need to.

Most of the time he ignored them and went on with his life, getting obsessed and tied down to people’s flaky opinions was a waste of time he didn’t have. Every week there would be a new picture of him in some magazine somewhere in the world with a new incriminating thing to add to his name, even if he truly hadn’t done anything.

It was a never-ending cycle.

But this time….this time pretending to be oblivious wouldn’t work. One little article had blown way out of proportion to the point where he expected a question about it from every reporter that managed to step in his way. It was maddening at this point, he didn’t want to be judged for the way he spent his nights, he wanted to be judged for his music.

The worst part about it was the weight it held and the fact that it could drag the band down with him.

Which was why he wanted you to be different. Your eyes didn’t have that hungry, vindictive look he was so used to, you looked more authentic than all the fraudulent people he had to grin and bear with on the daily.

Unfortunately, reality had no place for that type of useless, hollow hope, so he had no choice but to be on his best behaviour to make sure that you wrote only good things. Even if it was all fake, he had to get on your good side for the sake of the other four people that would be dragged down with him if he didn’t.

“Yeah,” Taeyong mumbled as the alcohol kissed his throat with a burning sensation he so often turned to for comfort. “Gotta keep up appearances.”

Nakomoto Yuta was charming with his long, unruly hair and Cheshire cat grin. One mere glance at him would have you know that he was a force to be reckoned with, a force that many would die to have with them in their beds and he couldn’t deny the fact that he had his fair share of nightly fun.

He was a realist and a cynic, two qualities you generally enjoyed in a person, especially a subject. It made it easier to get the truth out of them.

So to your immense surprise, you were extremely bored.

Now, it wasn’t to say that he wasn’t an interesting person- he absolutely was. You knew an interview with him would also cash in the big bucks, but you were greedy and ambitious. You had your eyes on a different prize, the biggest fish in the pond.

Taeyong, of course.

To you, he was much more interesting. As real as Yuta was, Taeyong was guarded, he knew exactly how much to give the public and what to say. Over the past few shows you had spoken with him pretty often, striking up an odd friendship of sorts, but every interaction left more to be wanted from it. He challenged you back and left you thinking about what you had given and what you had taken.

The truce between the two of you had begun the day of the first show when both of you sat in that empty stadium and he told you his motivations for becoming what he was today. It benefited you nicely because you didn’t have to scour around and beg for details.

It didn’t mean that you didn’t have to work for it, though, because you definitely did. The talk between you two was mundane at most, everyday things. The type of coffee he liked, on which he would turn around and ask you the same question. More than anything, it was a trade-off, bartering on both ends.

Even so, you found yourself more interested in those little snippets of facts than the little interview you were holding with Yuta right now, and you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out why.

“Y/n? Are you even listening to me?”

You quickly looked at Yuta, whose eyes were filled with dancing mirth at your unattentiveness. He didn’t seem offended though, and you winced. “Sorry, I kind of got lost in my thoughts there.”

“Anyone could have seen that, you’re boring the pretty lady Nakamoto.”

Speak of the devil, Taeyong himself stood there, leaning against one of the walls of the bus as he looked at you. You had no idea how you didn’t notice him come him, simply because he was the type of person you couldn’t not notice. Rolling your eyes, you adjusted yourself on the sofa and turned back to Yuta.

“You’ve been with me for two hours or so now,” You said, gathering your things. “I think we can stop for today, thank you for your time, Yuta.”

The literal translation to your words: This is just a formality.

He didn’t have to know that though and smiled, nodding. “Yeah, no problem. You’re nice to talk to, unlike some other reporters I’ve had to deal with. One stalked me for three weeks.” He groaned at the memory and ran a hand through his hair, lips pinched in displeasure. You cringed at how bad that made the people in your line of work sound.

“We’re not all like that,” You started timidly, not knowing where the sudden urge to defend them- or perhaps yourself. Taeyong scoffed from where he stood, intruding a little on the discussion and smiled.

“No Y/n, it’s the other way around,” He corrected you swiftly. “They’re not all like you.”

It was a compliment, one that had heat curling around your neck and up to your face. It made you feel like he was fond of you, at least a little bit, and you liked that thought. You got to your feet to retreat to the little part of the tour bus that you called your own upstairs, knowing that you were going to have to go over the recording you has taken of your interview with Yuta and pick out the few things you would be using for your article.

“When will you be interviewing me?” He asked, indulging in his curiosity as you made your way to the stairs, piling your tape recorder on top of your notebook, which sat atop your laptop. Somehow, you managed to balance a pen on top of that as well, along with your phone.

Taking note of the tower in your hands that was probably going to fall any minute now, he reached out and took your journal and recording out from on top of it, held it for you like it was the most natural thing to do and ushered you to start moving. A little surprised, you mumbled a small thanks as you began ascending the steps.

“Soon,” You said finally after thinking over it for a bit, finally making it up to the top floor, walking over to your bit of it, which was right at the end.

“....Soon?”

You repeated the word, confirming. “Soon.”

“Why not now?”

God, he loved asking questions, didn’t he? Specifically questions you did not have any answers to at any given moment, and you shrugged.

“You’re a famous person. Aren’t you like, busy?”

A mischievous smile made a show on his gorgeous face as he put your things down on your bed and leaned against the frame, hands tucked into his pockets. “For you? Never.”

You stiffened at his words, staring at him in bewilderment because that sounded like he was flirting with you. It really did, but even the sheer thought of that was absurd. He couldn’t have been flirting with you, right?

Oh, who were you kidding? If the papers had anything to say about it (and you best believe that they had a lot), it would be that Taeyong flirted with anything had possessed a pulse. The moment you remembered this, you proceeded to mentally chastise yourself for trusting those sources. It wasn’t fair to him.

“I was going to go over my notes and recording from Yuta’s but….I don’t want to,” You confessed sheepishly.

“Aha, so he did bore you.”

“Of course not, I’m just lazy right now.”

He didn’t believe you for a second, but let it slide anyway, watching as you arranged all your things neatly one on top of another again and pushed it to the side. “Okay, then let me interview you.”

To this, you raised a questioning eyebrow, not quite knowing where he was going with this. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ve always been curious about how it is to be on the other side, and since you don’t want to do what you have to, you can use this as a reason to procrastinate and blame me.” He bargained, taking a seat on the leisure seat opposite your bed and leaning into it. “Surely you can sit through answering a few questions when you make us go through it all the time.”

You silently laughed at his reasoning, finding it a tad eccentric. “It’s my job to ask the questions, Taeyong, and it’s yours to answer them, not the other way around.”

His lips twitched at your attempt to push him away considering he could tell you were almost completely on board with the idea. “It’s my job to make music and perform, not tell the world the last celebrity I fucked.”

You nearly choked on your tongue at how crude he was with his wording, coughing abruptly and covering your mouth with your palm. How he spoke about it so freely, you would never understand, and your fingers brushed against the warm skin of your cheeks, telling you that you were not used to it.

Taeyong cocked his head to the side in mock innocence at the reaction he managed to elicit from you. You were absolutely adorable and so damn inexperienced when it came to the world he lived in because of how different yours was.

“What? Isn’t that what everyone wants to know?” He drawled, and you rolled your eyes in an attempt to shrug off the effect he had on you.

The answer you settled for was cautious, one that you could play off easily without thinking of your heated cheeks at how blunt he was. “You think very highly of yourself.”

“Why are you a journalist?”

He dropped the previous topic, going straight to asking you a question you hadn’t expected, though now that you thought about it, it was an obvious one. Blinking slowly, you bit the inside of your cheek, “Because I love writing, obviously, and I want to work at the New York Times one day.”

“Is that it?” Disbelief coated every syllable.

“Must there be more?”

“You know damn well there is,” He chuckled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You sat down directly opposite him. “No one becomes something because of one flimsy reason, I can tell you that much. I didn’t form a band and get a record deal just because I love music. Of course, I love music, but I also love performing and hearing all those fans scream because of it. I love sharing that music with the world and I won’t give you any of that ‘I’m not in it for the fame’ bullshit. I love every second of it.”

He’s blunt, you noted mentally, storing the information in the back of your mind for later. Although he was the one asking you the questions this time around, he was also giving you little pieces of him. Somehow, it made the process more gratifying.

There was silence for a few seconds after that, leaving you with bated breath. Every time someone asked you the reason you had taken up journalism, you gave them the textbook answer, one that they expected. It was true, of course, there wasn’t a single thing you’d rather do than this, because you did love it.

And then there's the less known answer. One that you didn’t indulge in all that often because it seemed like an afterthought on your tongue. The fact that he could see right through you and figure out that there was something else to do with your career choice scared you a little.

“Travel,” You confessed softly, “I wanted to…see the world, even if it meant a work trip.”

He was the first person you had ever told about this secret desire of yours because every other time you pondered telling it to someone, it sounded rather silly. Even now, as you pronounced it on your tongue, the fire over the wish burned dimly at best, in fear of being pushed down and discredited for it.

He didn’t make fun of you, though, only furrowing his eyebrows. “Wow. I kind of feel bad for you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We’ve been to what-? Five different places now? And all you’ve seen in the inside of a stadium and greenrooms. That’s a pretty shitty way to see the world if you ask me.”

“I’ll take what I get.” You shrugged, once again adjusting the setup of your materials beside you until you were satisfied. “You do it all the time.”

“That’s not the same,” he argued ardently, but then dropped the topic altogether, not wanting to come across as overbearing in any way. “Thanks for the insightful information Y/n, I think I’d be an excellent journalist.” There was a particular sparkle in his eyes when he said that, like all the precious jewels in the world had taken sanctuary in them.

You watched him retreat downstairs, leaving you to your own devices and thoughts, ones that were much too loud for your liking.

There were many things that had angered his hot-headed manager in the past, and many of those times led to him being the unfortunate and unwarranted receiver of her fury. Over time, he had gotten used to it and took it in good sport, but he would never forget the very first time it happened.

It had been after one of their first talk-show interviews when their journey together as a band had just kicked off, having gathered a substantial following and fanbase for being so new to the music scene. They were being escorted out of the building and into their cars after a successful interview.

They still hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of being swarmed by fans and paparazzi and were left in a mixture of shock and awe as they exited the building, immediately hit with the screams of fans begging for even a glance in their direction. Several reporters aggregated around them, pushing past the boundaries that their bodyguards had tried to set for their safety to thrust a microphone in their faces and yell out their questions.

Renjun went over what they had to do when presented with situations like these every time they went out to promote their music when they were industry babies. Taeyong stayed close to the rest of his band mates, walking right behind Yuta with Jeno sandwiched between him and Doyoung who stood towards the back. They had always been fiercely protective of the youngest.

He was acutely aware of the bodyguard that walked by his side, his hands outstretched around the group to shield them from the unruly audience. Just as their publicist told them, he flashed the reporters a polite smile so as to not suddenly be on the top ten rudest celebrities list, and then looked down at his feet, avoiding all eye contact with the cameras.

Rule number one about being famous; you could never be too careful.

But he was only nineteen, artless and spontaneous in everything he did. A reporter yelled out his name so loud that he looked up out of instinct, meeting the culprit's eyes quickly.

And then a camera- or was it one of those dratted microphones?- knocked into the side of his face by his right eye so hard that he visibly winced at the sharp sting of pain that followed. His eyes screwed shut as he flinched away, almost stumbling right into Mark, who yelped softly in surprise.

He heard Irene yelling infuriated at whoever had done that and the bodyguard moved so that he was covering Taeyong even more. Opening just one eye, he got into the backseat of the car and groaned softly, bringing his fingers up to the place that hurt to somehow assess the situation.

“Dude, you okay? Holy shit-” Mark's voice cut off midway.

Taeyong opened both of his eyes and stared in annoyance and bewilderment at the red stain that coated the tips of his fingers. Irene slipped inside, muttering profanities at the wildness of the paparazzi when she noticed him staring at his hand, and then at the cut on his face.

“Oh for fucks sake!” She all but growled, startling Jeno who was situated beside her. “I didn’t expect you to start bleeding from that.”

He glanced up at his manager, who wore a not-so-flattering glower on her face, taking her phone out and furiously jamming in a few numbers until the contact she desired popped up. Doyoung handed Taeyong a tissue to wipe his hands, his eyebrows furrowing in silent concern, but he shook his head, assuring his friend he was fine.

“You should have been more careful,” Irene snapped, holding the phone to her ear. “I hope that heals soon.”

“It’s not that bad, it doesn’t even hurt anymore,” He remembered reasoning with her. “I think it was just the shock that got to me.”

“It doesn’t matter if it hurts or not, Taeyong, you guys have an editorial shoot next week,” Her words made him freeze. “You have to look perfect.”

That was when it hit him- what her distress was truly about. She hadn’t stopped to ask if he was alright or if he was hurt badly, those things didn’t matter to her as their manager. What she cared about was if he would look good enough for a photoshoot coming up because that was where her priorities lay.

“I suppose the make-up artists can cover it up for now,” She muttered indignantly, before launching into an animated conversation with whoever she had called. Taeyong swallowed the lump in his throat and slumped in his seat every so slightly, admittedly hurt over the realisation that dawned upon him that day.

But it was an important lesson for him to learn, one he carried forward with him as the band got bigger and more famous than anyone thought was possible. When the swarms of cameramen got even larger and the photoshoots increased in number, he made sure to follow Renjun’s instructions to the T.

Everything about celebrities was taken at face value. This was the cold, hard truth that he had to learn to live with because of how literal it was, because of how cosmetic and fake most things were.

They used makeup on the cut for a few months to cover it up, until it healed incompletely into a small, almost unnoticeable scar, serving as a reminder every time he forgot about how his new world worked.

You were slowly getting accustomed to the after-show routine that happened every time. Cherry Bomb would retreat backstage, accompanied by the dying yelling of fans experiencing post-concert depression. They would be handed water bottles and would walk around for a bit, hugging staff and accepting congratulations, before finally deciding to retreat to the bus. You had mostly memorized the sequence of events after seeing it happen so many times.

Which is exactly why you were so bewildered right now when none of that happened.

This time, all five of them seemed to be in a rush, wild looks in their eyes. They stopped for a moment to exchange pleasantries with Irene- a mere formality at this point- as quickly as humanly possible, their unequivocal hurry making a show with the bounce in their steps. Once she was done with them, they scrambled back to their green rooms.

Taeyong must have seen the look of pure confusion on your face because he stopped to admire it, a smile tugging at his cheshire lips at the way your eyebrows cinched and your own lips puffed out slightly in bafflement. He could tell that you knew something was up and that you definitely wanted in on the supposed secret that seemed to alter their usual routine.

Now, he knew very well that Irene would probably kill him for what he was thinking about doing. Then she would resurrect him from the dead, Jesus style, and proceed to murder him once again, repeating the process until she was satisfied. He was supposed to put the best version of himself forward for you to dissect.

So if he knew this so well, why was he walking over to you anyway? When you noticed that he was coming towards you, you stood a little straighter, eyes widening slightly. “We don’t start travelling till tomorrow,” He said first, giving you context for what was going to follow. “So we’re going to a party.”

He could see the flicker of interest in your eyes. “A party?”

Taeyong nodded, “We’ll take about ten minutes to change and then leave in the car out back. Wanna come?”

Your first thought was your outfit. A sweater that was on the thinner side tucked into a skirt, formal enough without looking overbearing. Most of the clothes you packed for the tour were of the same nature, and for good reason, because it was exactly what you would wear to work, and that was what this was.

The funny thing was that you actually had to remind yourself that you were here for work and not pleasure. Especially when he was asking you if you wanted to come along.

“I don’t have anything party worthy to wear.”

He dragged his gaze over your physique and you never wished you were wearing something else more than you had at that moment. Something a little more impressive maybe.

“You look great.”

Scratch that, this was now your favourite outfit.

He said it with such conviction that you were left with no other choice but to believe him. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you tried to count to ten as you thought about how to say no. Ten, nine, eight…

“Okay,” You breathed out, miserable failing at your attempt to have any semblance of self-control. He grinned at you before walking away and reiterating where you should meet him in a few minutes, joining the rest of his bandmates.

Gathering your wits, you excused yourself to go find the car he spoke about, admittedly nervous about the entire ordeal. The last time you had gone to a party was during your junior year of college. Your senior year had you completely occupied with exams and being editor of the school paper, leaving you with barely any time to go out, much less for a party.

And here you were, agreeing to go to one without even thinking about it properly. There was so much wrong with this plan that you decided even analyzing your decision-making was not worth it.

Just when you were starting to think Taeyong had pulled a prank on you, they walked out, dressed in clothes that were more casual than the ones they wore on stage, but most of their makeup and hair styling was still intact. When they were closer, Doyoung stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes at you.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned- well, more like demanded an answer out of you. The others, except Taeyong, all looked a little puzzled at your presence and thats when you realized that he hadn’t told anyone he invited you along.

“She’s coming with,” He said, eliciting a look of outright indignation from the younger boy.

“Are you fucking stupid? She’s a journalist, she’ll-”

“She won’t be recording or interviewing anyone tonight, right Y/n?” He said, voice impossibly sweet as he looked at you expectantly, one eyebrow quirked high as if urging you to say yes. You supposed that was your side of the deal if you were coming along. As a journalist, you should have lied and said yes with the full intention of taking in every detail.

So when you nodded and the word ‘yes’ left your lips, you were surprised to find that you genuinely meant it. Satisfied, he opened the door and cocked his head to the side, gesturing for all of you to get in. The others still looked pretty dubious of your presence, especially Doyoung, but they quickly brushed it aside and obliged.

You ended up sitting in between Taeyong and Yuta in the car, with Doyoung driving and Mark in the passenger seat. Turns out, Jeno had been kept back because of something new popping up in his schedule alone (something about a photoshoot for one of the brands he was an ambassador of, that Irene insisted she brief him about at that very moment in time) and would be joining all of you later.

Mark slipped a lighter out of his pocket and lit a blunt, glancing up at you through the rearview mirror and holding it up. “Wanna hit?”

“Is that…?” You trailed off, a little put off at how casual he was about it. He nodded.

“Weed.”

“Jesus Christ Mark, why don’t you go tell her all our sins,” Doyoung groaned, tightening his grip around the steering wheel. Mark laughed his airy, broken record-sounding laugh, and shrugged complacently, unaffected by the possible repercussions of his actions.

“It’s not like the entire world already knows,” He deadpanned. You remembered the few articles about them being caught smoking on several occasions. “The place we’re going to is going to be full of this shit, I’m only giving her a taste. Speaking of which, do you want a cig or not?”

As you were with parties, you tended to steer away from the drug-using crowd during your school and college days, leaving you wary of the offer, so you shook your head.

“I’m good.”

“I’m not, give me one,” Yuta said right after you, and Mark did as he asked, handing a blunt over to the older man, leaning over to light it. You felt wildly out of place, nervously playing with your fingers in your lap and contemplating whether you should have agreed, after all, feeling the heels of your shoes dig into the car mat beneath your feet.

As if he could sense your doubts, Taeyong shifted slightly in his seat and dipped his head down until his mouth was near your temple. “Relax,” He said softly, the warmth of his arm around the back of your seat feeling as if it was being projected onto you, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Then he resumed his previous posture. “But yeah, you’re going to have to wipe the mildly terrified look from your face, princess, Mingyu’s party isn’t exactly a formal event with champagne flutes.”

The nickname was used in a manner of teasing, you knew. He was teasing you for being so tightly wound up and surprised at every little thing, but that didn’t stop an odd, fluttery feeling from taking place in the pit of your torso.

Your eyes widened in surprise at that statement of his- not the bit about the party not being a formal event, but the fact he mentioned Kim Mingyu, an actor who had built his reputation over being the ‘good boy’ actor of Hollywood. That was until he found himself in a dating scandal and was exposed for not being as innocent as everyone initially perceived. When he decided to embrace that part of him he received a lot of backlash, but a hell of a lot of respect for it as well, boosting his career through the roof.

As they said, all publicity is good publicity.

“You guys know Mingyu?” It seemed odd for rock stars to know an actor, at least in your eyes, and then you felt a little idiotic. Of course, they knew him. Mark nodded from the front, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing out the smoke.

“Yeah, for a while too. His parties are great to wind down at after a show.”

You had a feeling that his idea of winding down was very different to yours. “Interesting.”

It was clear to you from that moment that this party was going to be full of Hollywood’s finest and most sought-after. In short, a journalist's heaven, with so many stories in one place right within your grasp. So many stories and loose ends other press had tried hunting for ages and you had been given entrance on a red carpet.

You were a fool for not trying to pounce on the idea, all to keep the trust of a man you had been friends with for only a month or so. In a way it was laughable. Trying to keep enough of his trust in you intact just so you could tear through the walls he had built around himself for people just like you.

He was wrong. You were just like the rest, and for the first time since you set foot on this tour, guilt crept into you.

The car stopped, signalling that you had reached your destination. Swallowing the new and unwelcome sensation of guilt, you reminded yourself that there wasn’t a good or bad side to this, there never was, no matter how much the media tried to insist the same. It was ironic.

Getting out of the car, you bit the inside of your cheek, shaking those thoughts off and focusing on the house in front of you, or rather, the mansion, because your jaw slackened at the sight of it. The large iron gates walled off the piece of land from the public, enclosing the frothing fountains and tiled pathway that lead to the front of a house that looked a little old-fashioned, but in a tasteful manner. You could tell by the lights flashing in the windows that the party was already in full swing with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

The inside only cemented that fact and from the moment you set foot inside the house, it felt like you were lost. The same scent that had accompanied the blunt Mark and Yuta had used wafted through the air, lost in the haze of alcohol and other drugs.

You had no business being surprised, Hollywood was tainted with all sorts of different sins. Some of those very sins had become so commonplace that no one had the right to judge or ridicule them. You spotted a few familiar faces that you had seen on TV, or perhaps in the news as the band members dispersed slowly to get drinks and talk to their friends.

And then you were alone.

Taeyong stayed fairly close by though, knowing that this was a new scene for you. He admired the way you didn’t look scared, but more so curious as to how it all worked, eyes alert and scanning over everything. He could practically see the gears turning in your head as you made sense of it all.

Yuta was on one of the couches, talking to a few ladies, Doyoung sat by the bar and Mark had disappeared completely, no doubt now occupying one of the many rooms of the mansion with a woman. You didn’t know exactly when Jeno showed up, but you spotted him once with a drink in hand, humming along to the music.

You really had no idea how this worked, you thought in bewilderment as you tried your best to pay attention to whatever the person talking to you was saying. You brought your cup to your lips and sipped on the beer that swirled inside it as you nodded whenever you thought was appropriate enough to look like you were seriously invested. The man was no doubt a celebrity, he had the same careless arrogance you had seen everyone carry around.

Politely excusing yourself, you downed the rest of the beer, having chosen the most basic drink out of the wide selection that Mingyu had to offer to play it safe.

You managed to find an empty balcony on one of the floors, walking out to escape the heaviness of the interior, letting out a tired sigh; a sigh that carried all your worries with its exhale. The sky was dotted with an effervescence of stars that glittered against the dark canvas they lay on for the world to muse at, humble in their existence and still so captivating.

Once again, you started doubting yourself- because what sort of journalist wasn’t up for inserting themselves in the situations that concerned their work? George Plimpton, Earnie Pyle, Hunter Thompson- all excellent journalists that always took part. Granted, the things they did were a little more extreme than attending a party, but surely you should have been eagerly following in their footsteps instead of standing still and contemplating every step you took.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

You turned around on your heel to meet Taeyong’s eyes. He stood there, leaning against the door frame with a drink in his hand, looking straight at you.

“Did you really?” You quirked an eyebrow, causing him to grin sheepishly as he walked over, joining you next to the balcony railing, resting his elbows on it as he leaned against it. You hadn’t invited him to join you, but he had brazenly done so anyway, and you admired that quality about him.

“Nah, I was hoping I would though. I just know people say lines like those in movies.”

You let yourself laugh, instantly feeling more at ease now that you weren’t surrounded by strangers, but just with someone you knew to an extent. It was a talent of his, you decided, to so easily be able to draw people in.

“Good guessing skills,” You quipped, sighing. He looked to his side at you, a half smile playing on his lips in a lopsided manner.

“Well then, I’m guessing this isn’t your scene?”

“God, no,” You blurted out gracelessly, “I mean, it’s interesting to watch and indulge in for a few minutes but I get bored of it very easily. Reminds me of college.”

He hummed. “How is it? College, I mean. I’ve never been.” He stared at you curiously, and you recollected that Cherry Bomb had been formed right when he had graduated high school. Stardom and normal college life were not things that were ever meant to intersect.

“A little more relaxed than high school, but that gets to some people and they let go completely, and by your junior year you’re finally allowed to legally drink,” was the explanation you settled on. “Not that it stops the freshmen anyway.”

He pressed the mouth of his bottle to his lips, taking another sip as he drank in your words. “Sounds boring.”

“Not for everyone, I just happened to spend half my time in my university’s newsroom, so my experience wasn’t exactly the most exciting.” You shrugged, suddenly a little embarrassed over the fact. Here you stood beside someone who had one of the most exciting lives ever and you paled in comparison. Why was he even talking to you?

You looked so pretty right then, a rueful smile gracing your face like you regretted not participating more, strands of your hair falling in front of your face and out of your loose ponytail, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you were aware of just how bewitching you were. He couldn’t help but be just a little envious of the glass that previously held your drink, and how it had the opportunity of having your lips on it, rather than him being able to kiss you.

The startling realization that he wanted to kiss you was enough to pull him right back out of his trance, but there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with thinking about it, was there?

“You just haven’t been in any exciting situations,” He countered and it was then you noticed how the light from the moon flickered through the wisps of his hair, illuminating the edges like a halo. A crimson halo that is, two things that contradicted each other in an almost comical manner. Halos were supposed to be golden and pure.

You had a feeling that Taeyong was anything but.

And you had no idea why you liked the prospect of that as much as you did. “I suppose you know exactly how to get into those types of situations.”

He smirked, an expression so dizzying to look at that you momentarily entertained the idea of looking around for a seat before your knees inevitable buckled, and gripped the railing rigidly. He took a step closer to you until the space between the two of you had reduced to far too little for your dwindling sanity.

“Why? Are you interested?”

Suddenly it felt like the air had hiked up in temperature like it was warmer than before and it prickled at your skin. You blamed your sweater, but you could feel it on your bare legs too, and on the exposed skin of your neck. That very heat crawled upwards onto your cheeks, but you refused to acknowledge it, keeping your eyes locked on his.

He was close, closer than your sanity would have liked. You took the opportunity to study him for a moment, from the rise of his cheekbones to the little, almost unnoticeable scar next to his right eye- you momentarily wonder how he got it. Somehow, he was still gorgeous.

“Maybe I am.”

He moved just a little closer, beguiled by how quickly you responded. It was evident that you loved challenges and he dropped his voice a little even though there was no one else around. “Good.” Tempting, an affirmation that he had wanted to show all those exciting places and situations to you and by god, you were so tempted.

He didn’t know why he was so taken with you, and you did not know how to get your body feeling normal again and not like it was in a sauna. That smirk, the way he looked at you and the way you stared back without backing down even for a second, it was new to the both of you.

Oh, you were so fucked.

It was around four in the morning when your head finally met your cold pillow and your fingers curled into the thin blanket you used to cover yourself. The party had not ended yet, but the group of you decided to leave so you would get at least a few hours of sleep before Irene came along and yelled at everyone for their irresponsibility.

The moment you returned, you had changed out of your outfit into something lighter. A tank top and shorts, kicking off your shoes and hoping it would be enough to erase the effect a certain man had on you.

One would think that after having such a long day you’d fall asleep immediately, and frankly, you did too. You thought that the sweet, sweet cycle of REM sleep would take over your mind and you would be knocked out within minutes of lying down on the bed.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Your mind was still awake, racing faster than it usually did, only one thing- or rather, one person- on it. The reason? It was stressing you out.

The fact that you were so blatantly attracted to Taeyong was a problem. For one, it was highly unprofessional and just plain wrong to be into someone you were writing an article about. That alone should have had your insides twist with worry at what was to come.

It was bad enough that the world thought most female reporters went about sleeping with their subjects anyway and you were mortified over possibly turning into one of those women, rumour or not. This was a job, a job you were supposed to do well and never look back at again, one that would kickstart your career for the better.

So why on earth did you feel so unapologetic about it?

You had fallen for people before, but you wouldn’t say that you had fallen in love. The guys you had been with before had been benevolent and nonabrasive at best, the ones who tended to play it safe to avoid misadventures. The tenderness that was growing in your chest for Taeyong was so foreign that you almost didn’t recognize it.

It was the result of him, the way he was. The way he challenged you without ever putting you down, that proud look in his eye that he earned over the years, but it was one that never drifted into being that of an asshole. Not many people were able to pull that sort of confidence off, but he did it with such ease that it was irritatingly attractive.

You guessed that it was because of this very confidence that he possessed, that alluring quality of his you couldn’t quite put your finger on, he was portrayed the way he was for the public to jeer at. It was human nature to hate those who flourished despite the odds and he was the textbook definition of graceful success. Naturally, they had to disrupt that grace why tainting it with whatever they could.

But it was how he stayed with you for the rest of the evening- or early morning if you were getting technical- at the party, helping you relax into the unfamiliar atmosphere. It was how he didn’t seem to care about the party, although you knew from your research that he was quite the opposite, it was nice of him to pretend like that wasn’t true. It was how he whispered a sweet goodnight to you before you silently climbed to the upper level of the bus and your bed, with that boyish smile you were coming to like just a little too much.

That was why.

“Fuck,” You whispered to yourself, and it sounded a lot louder than it was in the silence of the bus. It was bad because it went a little past just plain attraction. If it was just that, it would have been ten times easier to deal with. You could be attracted to someone without feeling a single thing for them.

But the way his voice went all the way to your stomach and ignited that incessant fluttery feeling you tried so hard to ignore. It went a little past just plain ol’ attraction, but even a little bit was dangerous. The sensation was so unfamiliar in a cold strange way that you didn’t know what you were doing with yourself and for some unknown reason, you couldn’t find even a small remnant of remorse for it.

Just once, you told yourself hopelessly. You would let yourself think about him just once.

“No, no, no, absolutely not Y/n,” You muttered in a half-hearted scolding directed to yourself, but as soon as you said it, you were thinking about the way he held his guitar, and the possibility of that red hair of his being soft at the touch. The pout that rested on his lips when he argued with you or anyone, for the matter, was just so damn charming.

And the smile that teased your lips at that very moment, one that you had to cover by putting your hand over it as if anyone could see you in the darkness of the night. The way you tried so hard to fight the giddy seed that had been planted in your mind, the little schoolgirl giggles that threatened to leave you if you didn’t try hard enough to conceal them. You groaned silently to yourself so as to not wake any of the people sleeping around you, turning to your side and attempting to bury your face in the thin pillow that was no longer cool enough.

Taeyong was layered. Like an onion.

You couldn’t believe that the first description you could think of was lines straight out of Shrek.

Insanity- that’s what this was. You were getting ahead of yourself, in a few months, none of this would matter. You’d write the article, it would get published and you’d get some recognition for it. Your life would go back to the normally boring version of itself and you’d forget about it all once the opportunities started (hopefully) piling in.

There was no reason for this to get personal. You closed your eyes and stilled, holding the pillow you had brought along for yourself between your legs and forcing your brain to stop working overtime.

The first time Taeyong performed professionally was when he was nineteen, bordering twenty. Before they got their record deal, the band practised in garages and their rooms, and it was before Jeno joined. Then they were there, young and inexperienced when it came to the world they had just begun to dip their toes into.

He remembered feeling nervous, tapping his foot on the flooring repeatedly as he sat on the plush couches inside the studio, waiting for instructions. He could never forget how those nerves disappeared the moment he took his place behind the microphone and began singing with the rest of the band like they were never there in the first place.

Irene Bae stood on the other side of the glass, listening in. She was one of the younger managers, being twenty-four at the time, and although she hadn’t had much experience, she knew that Cherry Bomb was the group she wanted to manage and help get to the top. She saw their potential from the get-go and was smart enough to acknowledge that if she was the one in charge, she would reap the benefits as well.

Monroe was the first studio album that they released, and no one could have ever anticipated the success it brought to the table. In typical fashion for young rockstars, most of the songs revolved around drugs or sex but weren’t generic. Euphemisms and imagery floated through the lyrics that they worked hard on, no one could deny the raw talent they possessed.

The lead single of the album, Dark Clouds, debuted at 40 on the Billboard Charts, which was relatively high for a new artist, and it only kept climbing up the charts until it peaked at number two and stayed there for almost five weeks. The tracklist was full of hit after hit, and when you made such an incredible entrance into the scene, you had to expect both sides that came with fame: the good and the downright ugly.

The first time Taeyong ever had to deal with it was a few weeks after the album had been released and he had gone out to McDonald’s because he had been craving a burger. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but going out as a rising rockstar without any security was a stupid move on his part. Within minutes, he had a swarm of fans around him and he hadn’t the slightest clue of what to do, especially when the press showed up to ask him questions about the album.

That piece hadn’t been about anything scandalous, just about the first sighting of him without the rest of his mates. He realized that it didn’t have to be about anything great to be read because Cherry Bomb had become such a hot topic. It just had to be about one of them.

It was the first time he appeared in the papers without the rest of the band- just him. The moment Lee Taeyong became the ‘it boy’ that everyone loved to trail after, searching for something to pin him down with for the public to whisper about.

It was then he knew that his life had changed forever.

Lee Jeno wasn’t as intimidating as Yuta was, you would classify him as the sweetheart of the group. Off the stage, those sharp eyes turned into softer crescents of joy, and that raspy singing voice melted into jokes that suited the freshly turned twenty-one-year-old. By the end, you had forgotten the last few questions you were supposed to ask him, ending up with your hand pressed to your stomach as you tried not to laugh.

You were slowly making your way through each member of the band, procrastinating taking Taeyong’s interview. You didn’t know why you felt like it, but it was a ticking time bomb, and as much as you wanted to know about him, you didn’t want to at all.

God, you were a terrible journalist.

Finishing up, you gathered your things and began your journey back up the stairs to put together the most important bits of Jeno’s interview. You had finally managed to do Yuta’s a while after the night at the party, getting to work after a month of observing. Realistically speaking, you probably should have started a while ago, but it was fine.

“What happened to the original guy?”

Just as you were about to emerge from the stairs, you heard Renjun’s voice resound through the top floor. Instinctively, you stopped climbing and stayed in place as you took note of the slightly hushed tone of voice like he was hiding something.

Then the irony of the situation settled in. This whole eavesdropping thing was quickly developing into a bad habit of yours and you should not have been so ardently encouraging it.

“Yes- no there’s not a problem with her- but I thought you were going to send the person who wrote the article about-”

And then he dropped his voice even softer. Secrets always piqued your interest.

“- the article about Taeyong.”

Your eyes widened and now you knew you had to know more because he was talking about articles and a ‘her’ that you were willing to bet was you. Invested, you crouched down a little and put your stuff down on one of the steps, praying no one would walk up right then and catch you in such an awkward position.

“I’m not upset Mr Suh, just surprised. We had an agreement when I gave you that story, one that ensured you would send over the same person who wrote it anonymously.”

Johnny? Why on earth was Renjun speaking to Johnny? Your insides twisted as a small realization dawned upon you and you were no longer thinking about working on your article. You were thinking about taking a little detour in your research to uncover a suspicion that was quickly growing.

“I’ve taken a risk Johnny,” Renjun continued a little coldly this time as if he was warning your boss not to disappoint. “I expect you to make sure it benefits me as well.”

You decided that this was the point where you would finally make your entrance, it sounded like the call was going to end now anyways. Picking your things back up, you retreated a few steps, ignored the little voice in your head that laughed at how stupid the scene must have looked, and walked back up, purposely being a little loud with your footsteps.

Renjun looked a little spooked when you walked upstairs, but no one would have noticed it if they hadn’t heard the conversation that preceded it. Your signature polite smile made a show as you gave it to him and sat down on your bed. Seeing that you would probably be there for a while, he excused himself.

And then you began. Pieces started falling into place, little things you hadn’t paid enough attention to. You pulled up the research you had done, that one article talking about Taeyong's promiscuity and how it lead to his stardom. Superstar Lee Taeyong sleeping his way to the top.

You couldn’t believe you never paid attention to the fact that it was written anonymously. Moreover, you couldn’t believe that you hadn’t noticed the two little letters at the bottom of the clipping. TL.

The Link. The entire thing had originated under your very nose and you had overlooked that piece of information. Now, each word of the article was something to think about, especially the little bit mentioning an anonymous source.

You couldn’t believe it. The very rumour that had dragged the band down started from the inside.

Loose lips sink ships.

And Renjun had been running his mouth all too gladly. He was their publicist for goodness sake, it made no sense. At the same time, it made perfect sense, a little drama went a long way in the celebrity world.

That pesky guilt from before about what you were doing tightened around you like a lasso, because how were you any different? You were lying in a sense as well, parading around and saying you were here for one thing while doing something else. You were a fraud who had listened in and judged another of your type.

He said something about not expecting it to be you who would come along for the tour, so you racked your brain to figure out why. Johnny knew this and agreed to your demands anyway, so why-

“Jungwoo,” You whispered in realisation. “That fucker.”

Jungwoo was the anonymous writer, you were sure of it. He dropped out last minute, leaving Johnny with no choice but to take what he got. You asked no questions he wasn’t willing to answer because all you had seen was an opportunity to further yourself.

You weren’t naive, you knew that it could still very well be true. Renjun could have told the truth about the band's reason for what seemed like instant stardom to expose them without losing face or his job. Just because it looked like a betrayal done from the inside didn’t mean that it wasn’t warranted.

Your reluctance to get more out of Taeyong burned away, replaced with pure journalistic instinct. You were going to find out what was real and what wasn’t without thinking about your potential feelings. You were a professional, after all, and you were going to prove that the truth was just as good of a story, no matter what that truth turned out to be.

“Did you spend a night in prison?”

Taeyong turned to you, caught off guard at your sudden question. He was sitting in the empty stadium during the break, this time with a guitar in his arms as he mindlessly strummed it to pass the time. One look at him and anyone would know he lived and breathed music in the purest sense, something that was extremely admirable.

You had settled into the seat next to him, a mirror image of your first day together- minus the guitar in his hand and the on-tour lunch that was being handed out that you held. He quirked an eyebrow.

“Been googling me?”

“I have to,” You said immediately, so smoothly that one would have thought it was a rehearsed line, leaning back and getting comfortable in the seat. “Now, is it true?”

“Is this my interview?” He avoided the question once again, mildly amused by how forward you were being. “Where’s your little kit?”

“Perhaps- and my what?”

This was terrible. He had been trying to get you to like him like Irene had requested- well, perhaps not just because Irene had asked him to do so. He was starting to realize that there was a chance that he wanted you to like him as well, and the result of possibly getting an article that would silence all the fake news was just an added benefit.

“You know, journal, recorder, whatever.”

“I’m taking a different approach, now answer my question.”

Oh, the reason he didn’t want to was because of how humiliating the story was but you were staring at him determinedly and he knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one. Sighing, he dropped his head and carefully put the guitar in another seat. For the first time in a long time, he felt an embarrassed blush kiss his cheeks.

“I was barely twenty-one, it’s old news.”

“I’d say you were asking for it,” You said, mouth upturning in amusement at the pink that stained his cheeks. It was cute. “I mean, deciding to go spray painting in the middle of the night on the wall of private property? That’s just dumb.”

He groaned when you oh-so-kindly recounted his misdeed, it had covered the papers for days, which was odd because it wasn’t anything too scandalous- other than it being illegal, of course. It only stopped circulating when Kim Jennie was found making out with Lisa Manoban at a party.

While she had a boyfriend.

Yeah, that was a much juicer story.

“Look,” He attempted to justify his younger self's decision-making skills. “There was this after party that followed this fashion show we had been ford to attend as a part of our schedule, and it was the most boring shit ever. Caviar and champagne. The place was full of opera singers, so you can imagine how we stood out.”

He ducked his head, grimacing at the memory of his teenage self ditching a prestigious event to commit a petty crime for the thrill of it. Immaturity was something he was still trying to grow out of, but that was the price of having to essentially grow up in the public eye.

You didn’t have to imagine, because there were pictures of them at the party before the incident, all wearing dress shirts and trousers. All of them looked much younger, going through a platinum blonde phase for their hair and it was painstakingly obvious that they didn’t fit in with the aristocratic guests at all. You wholeheartedly pitied them when you had seen that image, pulled between sympathising for them and laughing.

Taeyong didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain himself to you, nor did he understand why he felt embarrassed by it, running a hand through his locks. For some unknown reason, your opinion mattered to him, which even sounded ridiculous. Everyone had an opinion about him, and he had never given a flying fuck about them.

Until now, of course.

“I was bored out of my mind. I needed something fun to do, and Yuta was down. We were cellmates too.” He added that bit as a quip to earn something close to amusement from you. When you let out a short laugh, he was pleased that he succeeded. “Then Irene bailed us out.”

Wait, what the hell was he doing? This entire thing was completely out of character for him, he was the one others tried to impress, not the other way around. Never the other way around.

“You’ve been to Milan,” You said to him, childish wonder creeping into the tone of your voice. “All the pictures I’ve seen of the place are so gorgeous. I would die to spend even a day there.”

“Would you be up for a little vandalizing?” He asked hopefully, leaning forward with a shit-eating grin on his face. You threw him a pointed look, shaking your head.

“I said I wanted a day in Milan, Taeyong, not jail.” You deadpanned, pushing down the urge to giggle. Giggle. For goodness sake, it was pathetic, you felt like a giddy schoolgirl with barely any control over her emotions.

You had decided to go forward with grilling Taeyong for your article, determined to get to the bottom of your little side quest. Taking a bite out of the less than appetizing catered lunch, you shifted in your seat so that you were facing him a little better, moving on to the next question.

“Did you fake date Kang Seulgi?”

“You’re very chatty today, aren’t you?” He muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “I feel like I’m on trial.”

“It’s my job to grill answers out of you,” You winked playfully, earning a petulant look from his end as if he was offended at that statement of yours. Your mind wandered a little and before you could hold it by the reins and keep it back, it wandered a little too far, the sides of your lips curling upwards in a small smile.

“And here I thought you were actually interested in me,” He teased, and now it was you who felt flushed, but not out of embarrassment.

Then you went back to thinking sensibly with your head. “What do you expect me to do? Ask you to teach me how to play the guitar?” You offered him a sardonic smile as you gave up on the baked potato and cold mac-n-cheese that sat sadly on your paper plate, keeping it in another empty seat.

“I could if you wanted me to,” he mused, deciding to throw you off a little for fun.

You blinked in bewilderment at the offer. “What? No, I was just-” You scrambled to get out of the situation you had somehow managed to fall in (literally and figuratively), shaking your head adamantly at him. “I couldn’t-”

And then you noticed the way he had his fist over his mouth, eyes alight with pure amusement and when a small snicker left those pretty crimson lips of his, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re laughing at me.” You said flatly, a sulky pout taking shape on your lips, “You’re making fun of me.”

“I couldn’t help it, you looked so distressed. It was…..it was cute.”

Oh. Oh hell no. You were practically yelling at yourself so you wouldn’t get carried away, no doubt several girls had heard the very same compliment from him. As if sensing your mental conflict, Taeyong simpered and continued speaking.

“And yes, her management begged us for the deal because her album hadn’t done as well as it had to. At all. In fact, it flopped hard. The publicity stunt had her sales skyrocket back to normal, but you can never trust anyone when it comes to arrangements like these. One snitch and the entire thing can fall apart.”

What.

Oh right. Seulgi. You nodded, his words ringing loud and clear in the chambers of your mind. The tone of his voice was casual, but there was an undertone of bitterness, so slight that you would have missed it if you hadn’t been paying attention.

You couldn’t imagine how he would feel when he learned of what Renjun did to him, to the entirety of the band. Even worse, you couldn’t imagine how he would react when he found out what you were working on because you had a feeling he had given you more than he had ever given anyone else.

“Ah,” You said quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “There’s an untold story behind every exploited one.”

Taeyong would never understand how you had managed to sum it all up in just a few words. It was like you had somehow managed to see right through him, and that scared him just a little. His years in the spotlight had taught him how to be guarded, and how to know just how much to give and take from the public.

What was scarier, was the fact that you were a part of the media. It was never a good idea to let them have any leverage over you.

“Yeah,” He whispered, gripping the neck of the guitar as gently as possible. “Most of the time they ignore it. Unfortunately.”

Celebrities like him were expected to bask in everything that was sent their way, even the scandals that did not benefit them in the slightest. The public was of the opinion that because he had fame, he deserved everything that came with it.

You were looking at him like you knew he had received the short end of the stick many times before, a look that had his throat closing in on itself, but he didn’t look away. He hadn’t even once thought about looking away.

“I’m sorry,” You said softly, apologetically. Part of you felt guilty that you were one of those very people that exploited him, but you had to push that out of your mind to halt that train of thought before it consumed you. He forced himself to break the little spell that had been cast over the two of you, snapping out of your pseudo-staring competition and pulling the guitar back into his lap, strumming it mindlessly. You let your gaze fall from his face to the instrument.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Teach me how to play the guitar- at least a few chords. I heard somewhere that you could do a lot of songs with just four of them.”

He raised an eyebrow, mirth dancing in his eyes. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

You pulled a knee to your chest, “I like keeping people on their toes.” Your answer seemed to please him because he chuckled and then picked the guitar up once again, using one hand to signal you to sit straight in the seat, before placing it on your lap. It was a little awkward for you, someone who had never really held a guitar before, so you sat there and timidly held the top of it, waiting for his instructions.

“Those four chords you’re talking about? They’re C, G, F major and A minor.” He gently picked your other hand up and placed it on the fretboard, glancing up at your face to see if you were okay with the contact. There was something magical about his touch, which lingered on your fingertips, and you nodded softly, eyes locked with his.

Electric ever so slightly, the air between the two of you had a buzzing you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Slowly, he looked away and back at your hand, positioning each finger on the respective string it was supposed to be on. Once he was done, he leaned back a bit and placed his thumb on the first string.

“Push down on them,” He murmured, and as you did, he dragged his own fingers across them, over the hollow part of the guitar, producing music.

It wasn’t perfect, you still didn’t know how to hold the strings down hard enough, your fingers hurt a little from even that first attempt and in reality, you should have been the one strumming, but it faded into the background when your heart stuttered a little with how he was looking at you.

Oh no.

Was this what a crush felt like? Apprehensive glances and short breaths, anticipation spilling over, it was absolutely unbearable for you.

“I might need a little practice,” you said cautiously, loosening your grip on the strings and finally registering the strain on your fingertips, cursing under your breath and bringing them up to your face to inspect them. A soft red hue gleamed through your skin, stinging ever so slightly at the parts that had been indented by the strings.

“Yeah,” He replied, just as soft. “It hurts at the start but after a while you barely notice it. I think you’ll have to use a pick” Both of you were skirting around the obvious tension, choosing to ignore it when there was no good reason to.

“Show me the next one,” You managed to blurt out, trying desperately to break this pattern of getting so easily winded around him. Every moment you spent with him had you repeatedly reminding yourself of what you were actually here for, what you were meant to do because never, never in your entire life, had you ever met someone as magnetic as Lee Taeyong.

And so he did, the next thirty minutes passing by in a blur or strumming and pressing down strings on the fret until your fingers hurt and the scene of him and you sitting there burned into your memory even as you fell asleep that night.

And then, you were in New York.

CHERRY BOMB SOLD OUT IN NEW YORK CITY!

The Grammy-winning rock group has been steadily growing since their first show and is now the one that claims ownership of the audience of fifty-eight thousand fans that showed up at their show last night, truly the Cherry On Top! As usual, the five men were excellent on stage, their showmanship making it clear why all those seats had filled up so quickly. No doubt some fans didn’t manage to get one, which only cements how successful the group is.

We have been saying this for years and it only holds true; we cannot wait to see where Cherry Bomb takes us!

- The New York Times.

Taeyong would admit that sometimes, he did let things go a little too far.

Now, the New York show had been the biggest one yet, with the entire stadium filled up and not a seat left empty and more than a week to spend in the city, he let himself loose for the night after the show. The success of the show and the adrenaline pumping through their veins led them to spend all that excess energy at yet another party.

When alcohol was bought into the mix, perhaps he got a little too drunk. He wouldn’t know how exactly to classify it because he had been wasted before, and this wasn’t it. He could still stand and think semi-clearly, good enough to make his own decisions. Well enough to know that the girl on his arm had definitely been flirting with him.

Conscious enough to know what she wanted when she asked him if he wanted to get out of there. Alert enough to remember exactly what happened the night before in that strange woman's bed, and by no means was this the first time something like it had happened.

Yuta had indulged as well, he could tell by the scattering of darker marks on the younger neck. He knew the both of them had somehow been caught by a lurking reporter that managed to get to the site of the party and caught a few pics of them walking away. Maybe he would see himself in the next issue of the paper, accompanied by a nice side of his manager yelling at him for getting caught.

It was a cycle, an exhausting one, but he kept at it anyways.

He would worry about that later. At this point in time, when he walked out of the shower right then in the morning and took a Tylenol for the mild hangover that he had, before making his way up the stairs and to the top floor of the bus.

There you sat, legs crossed over each other with one of your pillows resting on top of them to act as a makeshift table for your laptop, which you were intently staring at, looking very immersed in whatever you were reading. He took a moment to admire how focused you were, eyebrows furrowed and lips set in the slightest pout as the bright blue light of your screen shone on your face.

Suddenly, it made sense why his hook-up last night felt a little more meaningless than it usually did anyway.

“Hey,” His voice cut through your reverie, making you startle a little as you looked up. There you saw a casually dressed Taeyong with hair that was slightly damp leaning against the frame of the wall. “Are you doing anything important right now?”

You shook your head a little too quickly for your liking, “Not really, just going over a little research, why?” You tried your best to sound as nonchalant and uninterested as possible, more to convince yourself than him. The pleased look that appeared on his face almost broke your resolve.

“Good,” He tipped his head towards the side, and you followed his line of sight to your suitcase. “Get ready and meet me outside in ten.”

You blinked rapidly, successfully confused with his instructions. “I’m sorry?”

“Get dressed and meet me outside the bus in ten minutes, I’m taking you out.”

You never had been very good with abrupt plans, and Taeyong threw you off your normal course enough as it is. Sceptical, and rightfully so, you asked, “Out where?”

“Trust me a little, will you?” He bargained, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on, “No questions, this isn’t one of your interviews.”

Without letting you respond, he walked back downstairs, leaving you there to stare at his retreating figure in mystification. That sentiment turned into exasperation at yourself for being so easily swayed, picking yourself up from the bed and going to do just as he asked of you because goddamnit, you were admittedly curious.

Pulling on something casual enough to look like you hadn’t tried hard enough but cute enough to perhaps receive a compliment, you grabbed your stuff and walked out of the tour bus, spotting Taeyong waiting for you as he scrolled through his phone. His other hand held a cigarette between his fingers, one he promptly put out when he noticed you arriving. Your mother would have given you a sharp talking to for agreeing to blindly follow a man, which was why you refused to completely let him have control.

You jogged over to catch up with him, coming to a standstill and asking, “Where are we going?”

“You never give up, do you?” He switched his phone off and slipped it into the pockets of his jeans, feigning annoyance at your persistence, although you could tell it was fake. “Are you sure you want to know? It’ll ruin the magic.”

“Magic?” “You know, the magic of surprises?”

You had to press your lips together in an attempt not to smile at how cute that sounded coming from him. The magic of surprises? What was he, a five-year-old? Now you wanted to see how he would act when in Disney World. From what you gathered, he’d probably buy all ninety-eight variations of the mickey mouse ear headbands. That image alone was too much for you, and you pushed it to the back of your mind.

“I like having all my facts straight before I jump into anything,” You stated plainly, giving him an expectant look. He sighed, as if growing weary of your prompt responses, and then-

No way.

Was Taeyong blushing? Your eyes could have very well been tricking you, but you swore you saw a light dusting of pink on his cheeks, perhaps out of embarrassment of what he was about to tell you.

“You said you wanted to travel…..” He trailed off, averting his eyes from you. You weren’t used to this side of him, away from the ever-present (or so you thought) confident smirk that played on his lips and the lazy amusement in his eyes. Here, you saw a boy that was a little bashful about his intentions. “And I thought I could show you around a few places in New York.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that one, staring at him in a mixture of question and bafflement over why he would want to do that. As if sensing your perplexion, he continued.

“I mean, I felt bad that you were being dragged along with us to all these places but was forced to stick around only us and we have a week in the city so I just figured you would like to see the place.” He was rambling a little bit, explaining his reasoning for what he was going and you couldn’t even lie to yourself, because you melted a little at how thoughtful it was.

“That sounds great,” You cut him off with a grateful smile, tucking your hands behind your back and bouncing a little on your heels. Relieved by your positive reaction, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in.

“Alright, follow me.”

He pulled a cap low over his head so that it cast a shadow over his face and obscured his features to an extent. He was still recognizable, but one would have to double-take to make it out.

Oh right, he was famous. The reality of that started to weigh a little more now that it was in your face and you were forced to acknowledge it since most of the time it was easy to get carried away with everything that happened on tour. You felt a little ridiculous for momentarily forgetting an integral part of who he was.

But you followed him anyway, out onto the unfamiliar streets of New York where cars whirred by in a blur of red and blue, the bright lights flashing even in the daytime. Cacophony drifted through the air like a song, but it could have very well been out of tune considering you didn’t know much about music. You wondered if Taeyong could hear it as well and if it made more sense to him.

It stunned you a little, just how much you wanted to know about his thoughts.

“There isn’t nearly enough time to show you everything I want to in one day, so I’m going to take you to two places I like best if that’s okay with you?” The smile on his face was small, bashful even, but it was enough to have your thoughts scatter and for you to bite your lip as you nodded slowly.

His eyes lit up and you were seriously amused by how enthralled he seemed to be about the entire situation like he truly did want to show you around. He wasn’t doing this to be perceived as a nice guy, he remembered the little, insignificant fact about yourself that you told him weeks later and was now acting upon it.

If only the tabloids could see this side of him and talk about it instead, the gentler, sweeter side that you were discovering bit by bit, instead of the rogue party animal that they usually plastered all over their front pages.

“It’s perfect,” You said, voice coming out a little breathless. He grinned and called for a cab, gentlemanly holding out the door for you to get in first, following suit. “Do I get any more information about this surprise?”

He shot you a disapproving look, “It wouldn’t be much of a surprise then, would it?”

“I appreciate the sentiment of giving me a surprise but I’m inquisitive!” The small, indignant pout on your lips almost elicited a laugh from his end, but he stood his ground and shook his head.

“No can do, sweetheart, you’re just going to have to trust me.”

And how could you not relent when he called you that so naturally, his voice lilting a little in a teasing manner? It didn’t mean anything, but you liked it anyways, a lot more than you cared to admit.

The first place he took you was the Museum of Modern Art, which puzzled you a tad because of how ordinary it seemed and how risky it was with all the tourists and locals that frequented the place. At any moment, someone could notice him and that would only lead to further complications that you did not want to think about.

After getting tickets to enter the place, you found yourself thrust into a world of colour and portraits, pieces of art that were probably worth more than your entire college tuition. Some looked oddly normal like they didn’t belong in a museum of all places, but they were placed near what you could only describe as masterpieces. A striking contrast, to say the least.

“Every time we’re in NYC, I come here,” Taeyong explained as the two of you walked around the place, hands casually tucked into his pockets as those expressive eyes of his wandered the artistry that spanned before them.

You could tell something important was coming. “Why?” He let out a soft sigh, not sparing you a glance just yet, still focused on a specific piece in front of you, but you were only looking at him, patiently waiting. He had never had someone wait as you did, it had always ever been question after question, rushed and insincere, impersonal in a way that had him feeling comforted.

Or maybe that was just because he was used to that. It was no secret he liked the attention, it was just who he was, but having your attention on him was a completely different story, a completely different type of liking attention.

“For perspective.”

You didn’t quite understand what he meant by that and hummed in question. “Perspective?” “I express my feelings and my state of mind with music, but not everyone does that. Poetry, paintings, sculptures, whatever the hell that is,” He pointed to something that looked like a paper mache of a leg from the knee down in crocs. “There are different ways to feel and explain things, even when it seems impossible to do so. Coming here always….helps when I’m having a musical block.”

And pay attention you did, because you knew there was something he was holding back, so you used your old tactic of staying silent to draw out more from a person.

“Cherry Bomb turns five soon,” He said, voice nearing a whisper at this point. “And I’m grateful- so fucking grateful that we’ve managed to stay on top for so long- but I can’t help but think about there being a time where we lose it all. When we’re not the best and can’t climb back up there, what then?”

Your heart broke a little when you heard how vulnerable he sounded at that. How real he was and how passionate he was about his band.

Taeyong was such a colourful person- something like a saturated sunrise- the type of person to always stand out from among the crowd, set apart from them. The true masterpiece that roamed the halls of the MoMA.

“I don’t dwell on it for long, it’s like a phase I go through from time to time,” He laughed bitterly. “Mostly when I’m having a musical block, as I mentioned before, but when I come here and remind myself that there are different approaches to things I……I get over it, I guess.”

There was a certain element of weariness laced into his words, barely noticeable in the grand scheme of things, but it was as clear as day to you. He was tired of indulging in that cycle of doubting himself over and over again, finally getting over it, only to return to it a few months later.

“You’re forgetting something.” You weren’t sure why you were so adamant about taking that ugly thought of his away from him. He finally looked back at you, raising an eyebrow.

“I am?”

Nodding solemnly, you gave him a half smile, standing a little straighter as your fingers curled into a fist at your sides. “Some pieces and artists are timeless. I think Cherry Bomb is one of them.”

You were so perfect, somehow knowing exactly what to say when he needed it most. He came to the MoMA for perspective and this time it wasn’t where he got that change of outlook from. This time, it was from you, even if you didn’t know how much that had comforted him- how much you had comforted him.

What a mesmerising lie this was.

A gentle beam pulled at the sides of his lips as he let what you said to hang in the air for a moment or two, disgesting it. He wondered if he would ever have to come back here again after meeting you because you sounded so much more appealing to him, and when he glanced back at the art piece, he snapped out of his self-induced reverie and asked.

“Are you hungry?”

Taeyong took you to a little café in Brooklyn, claiming it as the second spot he had set out to introduce you to in the morning. It was a rustic place, but pleasingly so, with little fairy lights hanging from over the display counter and soft jazz music playing in the background, the smell of pastries and bread wafting through the air, leaving you to inhale big gulps of air to savour it.

There weren’t many savoury options on the small menu they had, so you settled on a brownie and a normal coffee, playing it safe. Taeyong ordered a latte and a cheesecake without even looking at the options they had, and it reminded you that he too had roots in some places, even if his life seemed to be all over the place.

“I have a big sweet tooth,” He admitted when your food arrived, finally taking his cap off and revealing his head of messy hair, some of which stuck out endearingly in different directions. He ran his fingers through it to smoothen it out right as you fought the urge to do it yourself, curling your fingers around the handle of your cup of coffee instead to keep them occupied.

“I can tell,” You spoke, taking a sip of the bitter liquid that so soothingly kissed your throat. “So, why this place?”

He dug his fork into his cheesecake, cutting it and scooping the smaller piece up. “Because the owners didn’t know who I was.” Then he frowned, “Wait, I could have worded that better. I sound like some self-absorbed idiot, but yeah, they didn’t know who I was and I liked that I didn’t have to disguise myself here. And their apple pie is really good.”

He added that last bit like it was the most important thing to mention out of everything, eating the morsel on his fork. Digging into your cake, your eyes widened when the taste finally registered.

“Holy shit,” You mumbled, “This is amazing.” Swallowing, you licked your lips to make sure there were no crumbs stuck to them. “Now, back to those disguises you mentioned.”

Taeyong pursed his lips to keep his smile at bay at your endearing curiosity, “I don’t exactly have the luxury of being able to go out and not get swarmed.”

“Come on, you have to give me something to work with here. You can’t just mention disguises and not elaborate,” You prodded further, your natural curiosity taking over, but not for business purposes, you genuinely wanted to know more about him. And then, you promptly took another bite because god dammit, that brownie really was fantastic.

“I mean, hats are the norm,” He motioned to the bucket hat that he kept on his side of the table, part of which was handing off the edge, but he made no move to pull it back in. “But once I had to wear a curly wig and one of those fake moustaches. Not something I’d ever want anyone to see but it worked since no one did.”

The image that popped up in your mind was much too comical for you to even think about trying to hold back the chuckle that escaped you at that moment, and he shot you a playful glare, warning you under his breath. “Don’t.”

“How can I not?” You asked, trying your best not to snicker, “I have to see this for myself.”

“Over my dead body.”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears as you tried to coax him to show you a picture if he had one, to no avail. Being out of the tour bus, away from everyone and just the two of you was refreshing, you could tell he was a little more relaxed in the café. It suddenly occurred to you that even among his band mates he had to keep a sort of mask on, after all, he was the leader and the person who had formed the group in the first place. Most of the time, the responsibility fell onto his shoulders.

Something deep inside you appreciated the fact that he felt comfortable enough to let go in front of you.

And thats when a twinge of remorse pinched you, the sting so faint but definitely there. It had been making itself at home within your body and it was entirely unwelcome. Taking a sip of coffee to drown it out, gripped the handle of the mug tighter than you usually would as if compensating for what your conscious was trying to tell you.

When he cracked a joke and you laughed along, indulging in a conversation with him that seemed to flow so easily, and when he insisted on paying even when you argued that you could very well do so for yourself, it told you something else.

It told you that this entire day felt like a date.

And it shouldn’t have, you told yourself repeatedly while you walked back out, falling into step with him on the footpaths. The sun was dipping below the high point that it hit during the afternoons, hiding behind the wispy clouds that seemed to caress the preeminent tips of the skyscrapers.

You had to remind yourself that he was known for being the guy that walked out of places with a girl hanging off his shoulder, the one that everyone somehow found themselves infatuated with, and the fact that you could understand why they were irking you. You were never supposed to let yourself get swept away in his current so easily, but you hadn’t anticipated it being so strong.

Walking with you felt natural like he could close his eyes for just a minute and pretend that he wasn’t Lee Taeyong, Cherry Bomb’s leader that tended to find trouble. He was just Taeyong and he didn’t know why he found that so appealing.

It’s funny how even the smallest thing can derail an entire experience, no?

Taeyong stopped walking, setting his jaw once he noticed it. He was about to raise his hand to his head to check if he was wearing his bucket hat, but thats when he realized it was in the palm of his hand- he had forgotten to put it back on.

“Taeyong?” You furrowed your eyebrows when you realized he wasn’t moving anymore, a faraway look in his eyes. “Are you oka-” You trailed off when you followed his line of sight, not really knowing what you were looking at until you saw the smallest flash.

Oh.

He reached out and slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer in a way that shielded your face from the camera- or cameras, who knew- and lowered his head until his lips were just barely brushing against your earlobe. The contact had you suck in a breath, registering the warmth of his fingers through the thin fabric of your tee-shirt, just barely there.

“You wanted excitement, hm?” Your eyes widened and he slipped his hand down to yours, intertwining your fingers and giving you one of those cocksure looks of his. The way your hand fit in perfectly with his, interlocked as they had always meant to be like that made you want to keep it like that forever.

“How does running from the paparazzi sound?”

And then, before you could even think about responding to that suggestion of his, he pulled you along, breaking into a sprint that you had no choice but to join him in. Like clockwork, the cameras and reporters that were trailing you silently came out of hiding to follow suit, knowing that even a few words from the man you were with were going to be extremely valuable.

The thing about spur-of-the-moment decisions was that they always felt exhilarating, a feeling that would forever be arduous to put into words because there didn’t seem to be any that were good enough for the description. The monotone yet stunning city around you faded away as you focused on the equally, if not more, stunning man in front of you.

He turned around to glance back at you as the both of you took off, and it was then you caught the grin he wore on his face, the sparkling in his eyes that told you that he too felt the same rush you did. It wasn’t the first time he had ever experienced it, but now that you were there, it felt different, like it was familiar in a foreign sense. Your smaller hand grasped his with such trust that you knew he would somehow manage to extract the two of you out of the situation, cold against his warmer one.

You didn’t think you had ever seen something as enchanting as Taeyongs smile, even though you could barely focus on it right then. From the way, the edges of his mouth dug into the crevice of his face and little dimples popped up on his cheeks to the crinkling of the skin around his eyes in joy.

Spotting a cab on the side of the street, he slowed down and prompted you to do so as well, stopping near it and deftly opening the door to the backseat to help you inside. You did so wordlessly, but your breathing had turned a little shallow from the small sprint and you couldn’t relax just yet, watching anxiously through the glass of the car to see the press closen in.

“Drive,” He instructed the man in the front, who was evidently surprised at the sudden occupying of his cab. Stammering, he twisted the keys in the ignition.

“Where to, sir?”

“JUST DRIVE!” Taeyong raised his voice to express his urgency. “Please, as fast as you can and away from here.”

The entire thing was bizarre, and then when the car started moving in the opposite direction to the paparazzi following you, you finally leaned back in the rough faux leather seats. You allowed yourself to glance to your side at the man by your side, who always seemed to finally be relaxing, and when his eyes met yours, there was a beat of silence.

And then you began laughing.

The sound came out a lot louder than you thought it would, but you couldn’t stop, hand pressed to your stomach in an attempt to control yourself. The rush of adrenaline had resulted in everything seeming so funny to you, because who would have ever expected you of all people to be running away from the paparazzi with a world-famous rockstar by your side? Even the concept was outlandish.

When Taeyong laughed along with you, you stopped trying to hold your amusement back. You let yourself lean into him in a mixture of bafflement and hilarity, moving your hand to cover your mouth to stifle the giggles that left it.

“That was insane!” You exclaimed breathily, looking up at him. “My god.”

He had been worried for a minute there when he got into the cab, worried that you would have thought he was too much trouble, and it would have been warranted too, but the way you were looking at him right then like you would give anything to experience that again, assured him that wasn’t the case. Right then, it was the first time he noticed just how infectious your laughter was, and he was proud to be at least partly the cause of it.

“Exciting enough?” He asked hopefully, and you nodded enthusiastically, drunk off the feeling

“I know you probably deal with that a lot,” You said between breaths, “But that was a once-of-a-lifetime experience for me.”

The contrast of your two lives hammered against each other but you had somehow managed to find a sliver of common ground. While he loved attention, he had gotten annoyed over never being able to do normal things alone over the years, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, it didn’t feel like that.

“Hey, aren’t you one of those guys from that band? My daughter loves you.”

The driver’s New York drawl cut through the little bubble that encased the two of you, and Taeyong smiled and winked. “Tell her she has good taste.”

“Think I can get an autograph for her?” The driver picked a small piece of paper from the cupholder beside him, one that looked like a parking ticket and turned it over, handing it to Taeyong when the singer nodded. “Gimme a sec to find a pen, she better not give me that attitude of hers ever again after this!”

He signed the ticket- with such fluidity that it left you to watch in awe at how natural it was- and gave it back, telling the driver the destination as well, which was the stadium at which the buses were parked.

When you were back, Irene stood there with her trademark glare plastered across her face. Doyoung looked a little baffled, but only shot Taeyong a look that you couldn’t decipher. The latter ignored both, walking with you into the bus. There were so many people and he still somehow managed to make you feel like the only person in the world, and you found yourself hoping that running from the paparazzi with him wouldn’t just be a one-time thing.

“Thank you,” You said sincerely, “For today, I mean.”

“Don’t mention it,” He waved it off, but you shook your head, reaching out and grabbing his hand once again. The act caught him off guard, but he didn’t once pull away or even attempt to do so.

“I want to mention it Taeyong, it might not seem like much to you but….you gave me a part of my dream. You deserve to be thanked for that.” You had so many dreams, some being much too big for your own good, but today felt like you were finally inching closer to one of them instead of only being in the process of doing so.

He squeezed your hand. “And you should never have to thank me for that.”

Right then, it was when the anvil of guilt settled deep in the pit of your stomach because it was then you knew that you couldn’t write that exposé, even if Johnny had said it wasn’t one. When you were good at what you did, you learned to read in between the lines, and this article was exactly that- one that was supposed to be written to fuck over Cherry Bomb.

LEE TAEYONG SNUGGLING UP IN NEW YORK CITY!

We’ve seen him stumble out of bars and parties with a girl, but never during the day! Folks, this might be the first time we’ve ever seen the twenty-three-year-old heartthrob looking relatively sober with the opposite sex!

They were first spotted at a café, though due to the angle at which the pictures were taken you cannot see the woman’s face, it was definitely Lee sitting opposite her as the two chatted amicably, before leaving to walk with each other until they realized they were being followed and made a run for it.

He seemed protective of the girl, going so far as to make sure no one caught her face, which begs the question: who is she? Who is the possible woman who has managed to incite such a reaction in Lee Taeyong? More importantly, is there a possibility of romance on the horizon for the rockstar? All these questions that we are just dying to find out!

- Rolling Stone.

There was a certain fragility in being presented with something you were supposed to be good at, only to come out of the act fruitless.

With your fingertips pressed to the keys of your laptop, you seemed to forget every piece of knowledge you possessed on the art of writing, your mind going blank as you stared at the empty document that seemed to mock you. Words expertly evaded you and every sentence that you tried putting out sounded wrong.

Now, how were you to write an article that was supposed to deliver the truth while sounding sure of itself when you didn’t hold those sentiments just yet? It was a near impossible feat, and you sighed frustratedly, pressing down onto the keys and producing an incoherent string of letters that meant nothing, which was oddly fitting to your state of mind right then.

When you were younger and in college, you had prided yourself on being one of the best writers on the college paper, with a talent to compile research and information interestingly. It was what helped you through your first months working at The Link when the only topics you got were uninteresting ones.

You have always been a driven person, determined to reach your goals by any means possible. The first great article you had written was for the college paper in your freshman year and had been a ruthless piece about the best player on the soccer team using steroids. The team hated you after that since it had cost them their winning streak, but the editor of the paper at the time absolutely adored you for it.

That experience was the one from which you learned that the journalism industry lived off stepping on others’ toes, whether your intentions were right or wrong. You tried your best to ignore the selfish side of journalism, but it made you a hypocrite because you had always been the type of person to strive for what she wanted no matter the consequences it had for others.

It was at times like these when you truly hated writing. You hated what it could potentially turn people into.

“Y/n?”

You looked up to see Huang Renjun standing there, holding what looked like a magazine with a concerned look on his face. Ever since the day you had overheard his conversation with your boss, you had done your best to steer clear of the man to avoid complicating things for yourself.

“Yes?” You had no choice but to entertain him now, unfortunately, since the best of the band was at rehearsals and you were alone on the bus- save for Renjun, of course. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” He shook his head from side to side at first, before changing the direction and bobbing it up and down. “Yes, actually, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

Most people would have asked for that minute, but Renjun simply demanded it. You supposed that being a publicist had instilled that sense of entitlement in him, or maybe it was just a quality that he was required to have, to be able to grasp the attention of those he spoke to and lay down the rules he expected to be followed.

You momentarily wondered if that was how he managed to not be caught for what he had done yet, recollecting the wording he had used with Johnny. Smiling, you nodded and closed your laptop just enough to silently give him the respect he desired while talking to you, but open enough so that the light from the screen didn’t go out.

“Of course, go ahead.” The repeated warning of having to remain professional rang in your head and it was at that exact moment when you registered that you barely told yourself to do so around the band, and never around Taeyong.

“Well, this article was released today and I think you’re the woman in the pictures attached,” He said nervously, handing it over. You narrowed your eyes and scanned the words, before acknowledging the slightly blurry pictures of you and Taeyong, one with his arm around your waist and the other with your hands joined together. Your face wasn’t visible in either, thankfully.

“Oh,” You said a little awkwardly. “Yes that is me, he wanted to show me this café he liked and we weren’t as careful as we should have been. I’m sorry if this causes any trouble.” Your apology was genuine, and Renjun couldn’t help but sigh.

“You…..know why you’re here, right?”

It was the way he said it that put you off, cautious and calculating like he was testing you. Funnily enough, you were set out to fail, and you were a-okay with it.

“To write an article,” You said plainly and the expression on his face switched like he had put on a mask, forcing a smile that was painfully polite, before thanking you and leaving. You had confirmed his fear, that you had no clue what was going on.

Unbeknownst to you, Taeyong was being talked to by Irene, and the conversation had started out similarly enough, before taking an entirely different direction.

“Is that you with Y/n on here?”

Taeyong nodded, though it was a little noncommittal.

“And you were so careless that you were caught by the very people you’re not supposed to?” She was tapping her foot on the ground backstage impatiently now, one hand resting on her hip and the other holding the magazine. Between rehearsals, she had dragged him off stage to confront him about what had happened.

“Yep, sorry about that, by the way. I just wanted to hang out with her for a bit.” He didn’t need Irene to tell him he had fucked up, he knew that well enough for himself. He just thought that it had been worth it considering the reaction it had pulled out of you.

His manager stayed silent, and he mentally prepared himself for yet another one of her exasperated scoldings that she kept specially for him. While he did that, he glanced longingly out at the stage where the rest of his mates practised their parts, simpering a tad at how it sounded a little empty without him. That was one thing he always loved about the band, the fact that without one of them, it didn’t sound like Cherry Bomb. They were a team to the very end.

“Thats….actually genius.”

Pure confusion took over as he frowned. It sounded like a compliment, but he couldn’t be too sure since it felt like he should have been in trouble for being reckless again. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, it’s genius. Winning the journalist over? Amazing!” She clapped gleefully, all signs of apparent agitation missing from her face, before sobering up once again. “I know I’m hard on you Taeyong, but I have noticed the effort you’ve made this time around.”

(He decided to not tell her about the time he took you to a party where Mark and Yuta smoked a joint in front of you.)

Had he made an effort? He didn’t know considering it wasn’t like he had been making a conscious effort to do so by any means. What he did know was that he didn’t like the implications that came with what Irene was saying, the implication that he was putting up a front to get a good ‘review’, in a sense, out of you.

Taeyong was not doing that. He genuinely wanted to show you the two places he treasured the most in New York and liked talking to you. He liked the way you smiled first with your eyes and then with your mouth, always in that order. If it was with your mouth first, it was a fake smile.

“Right,” He said haltingly. “Thank you? I feel bad about causing a commotion though, I know you hate dating scandals.”

That was right, Irene hated when Taeyong was pulled into dating scandals because of how often it happened. People loved speculating about who he could possibly be with and it had always been wrong. He had never done relationships, he was in a committed one with his guitar and music.

“I do, but I’ll let it slide this time, especially since I don’t think it will turn into one.” The grin she wore was larger than life itself, “Winning her over is the smartest thing you could possibly do, and don’t worry too much about the repercussions. You did that café a favour if anything. Their business is going to boom.”

He was happy about that, of course, he was, but all he could hope for was that it wouldn’t lose its charm. He also knew that he had to keep everyone happy, something that was so impossible for one person to do, but it was a burden he had to carry anyway. He nodded. “She seemed happy, so I’d say I won her over.”

“Good,” Irene smiled proudly, and the expression didn’t give him that gratifying feeling it once did.

Insomnia was turning out to be a good friend of yours.

You had read somewhere that the human brain was set in a way that when a question was proposed to it, it always wanted to find an answer, like a computer that had been programmed to do so. Some people used that to their advantage while studying, and it was a very effective method from what you had seen.

Right now though, you weren’t too pleased considering it was why you were lying awake in your tiny little bed. Your mind was racing and begging for answers you didn’t have to satiate it, and you were left being restless, trying to ignore the itch that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you tried to calm it down.

Goddamnit.

You sat up, a disgruntled expression on your face as you did so, trying to ignore the prickle of goosebumps that had appeared on your arms and the dryness in your throat, but when the cold nipped at your skin harshly, you decided it was time to solve both those problems. Throwing your legs over the side of the small bed, you got to your feet and then immediately crouched as you approached your suitcase, slowly unzipping it and producing a sweater.

Once you had put it on, you stood up and softly padded down the stairs to the small kitchen on the bus to grab yourself some water.

At first, you went straight to the kitchen, finding the cupboard that held the glasses with little trouble, poured yourself a glass of water and sipped it with every intention of going straight back to bed and forcing yourself to succumb to sleep. You liked to sleep, sleep was good and kept you from being irritable during the day.

But when you stood at the doorframe of the kitchen, it was then you noticed the dim lights and the silhouette sitting on the floor; a silhouette that had been haunting your thoughts for a better part of the two months you had spent on this tour trying to ignore it. You sucked in a breath, before finally succumbing to all the questions your mind was throwing at you.

Stupid brain.

You had to know the truth for it had been eating at you for so long now, and you were going to get it right now.

“Taeyong?” At your soft voice, the man looked up, squinting slightly to make out your figure in the darkness. In one hand he held a glass of some alcoholic drink and in the other something that looked like a cigarette- or maybe it was a pencil. You couldn’t be too sure.

“Y/n,” He said your name slowly, deliberatively even. “Hey.”

He sat on the floor, legs bent at the knees with his arms resting on them casually, the sight strangely domestic. The slight shiver that raked down your spine at his voice always managed to take you by surprise, no matter how many times it happened.

“What are you doing up?” You started with the simplest question you could come up with, taking his greeting as an invitation to join him. Despite your glass being almost empty, you carried it with you anyway as you settled down beside him. He shrugged, taking a sip of the golden liquid that swirled in the glass he held before placing it down.

“Got inspired for some lyrics, what’s your excuse?” He waved to the small journal in front of him with his other hand, his tone light-hearted. It was a pencil.

‘You’ was the honest answer your brain presented you to that question. “Couldn’t sleep,” was the pathetic excuse you ended up going with. Suddenly, the lower section of the tour bus seemed a little too empty, and you peered through the darkness, noticing that it was because no one else was there. “Where is everyone?”

“Out,” He said, waving his hand about aimlessly. “Getting high or something, I don’t know.”

“You’re not with them,” you observed, saying it like a statement even though it was more of a prompt for him to elaborate on. He raised his glass with a wry smile, tilting his head towards it.

“I wanted to work on a song, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to miss out on the fun,” he leaned back a little against the couch and sighed. You were at a loss for words at what to say because there was no easy way to approach and tackle the subject that you most wanted to in a tactful manner. “I guess I just wanted to be alone for a bit.”

“Oh,” you felt a little idiotic right then. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Don’t,” he cut you off immediately. “Stay. My inspiration lasted about ten minutes before it fizzled out.”

“What usually inspires you?” You prodded, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your cheek against them so you could watch him, interlocking your warm fingers in front as you looped your arms around your legs. As a journalist that wrote for a newspaper, you were always being handed things to write about, so there wasn’t much room for inspiration per se, just skill and good research.

However, that wasn’t to say that you hadn’t entertained the idea of writing what you wanted, your own ideas and things plucked out of your imagination on occasion, but the problem with fiction was that as free as it sounded, it was never truly as free as one thought. That, and the fact that non-fiction was what was expected of you.

He thought about your question for a moment. “Inspiration is very unpredictable because you can get it from everywhere if you look hard enough for it. For example, take Jackson’s new song.”

“Jackson? Jackson Wang?” You asked incredulously, and he nodded.

“Yep, his new song Blow? He showed me some of the writing process and most people think it’s this sultry euphemism for a woman he’s sleeping with when in reality, it’s just about his damn cigarette.” He chuckled fondly at the recollection, remembering how dumbfounded he was when he found out himself, amused at the way your lips parted and eyes widened in bewilderment. Pressing his middle and index finger together, he brought it up to his mouth and then pulled it away by just moving his wrist, mimicking taking a drag.

“You’re kidding,” You weren’t sure if you were saying it out of mystification over the news that the song was supposed to be taken more literally than you had thought, or that Taeyong knew Jackson Wang. You reckoned that half of his charm came from the fact that one could continually forget he was famous while in his presence.

Taeyong smirked slightly, unable to stop himself from doing so at your expression. “Not at all. It’s just really easy to disguise a song as one out of love.” And with that, he turned his attention to the low ceiling of the bus, as if trying to peer out at the stars that were hidden from his view. You let yourself get carried away in the act of trying to read his mind and what he was thinking for a minute, before shaking yourself out of it after failing spectacularly.

“So what inspires you?” You repeated your previous words, “Not others, you.”

Another sigh escaped those crimson lips of his, clicking his tongue in a mixture of frustration and exasperation. “That’s a hard question, reporter, go easy on me, won’t you?” He was teasing you, light-hearted teasing that went straight to your head.

Evidently, your head wasn’t working well because you decided that it was the perfect moment to spring the million-dollar, definitely not an easy question on him. “Is it true?”

He raised an eyebrow at your abrupt blurting out of the painfully vague question. You wondered how you dared to call yourself a professional journalist when this was how you presented yourself at times.

“Is what true?”

“Did you sleep your way to the top?”

Pin. Drop. Silence.

From the very moment the words left your lips, you knew you fucked up. They had sounded so unbelievably wrong even as you were pronouncing them so impetuously on your tongue, a tongue that you now bit down on hard in regret. You briefly entertained the concept of time travel, solely so you could go back and slap a hand over your past self from two minutes ago before she could ask the one that had been relentlessly plaguing her.

“The thing about inspiration,” He started slowly, cautiously even, “Is that people don’t realize it’s dependent on motivation, and those two things were very different. His eyes were trained on you now, unwavering, and you noticed how intense they were even in the dark, somehow seeming to be void of any colour while having little golden freckles of light like the drink in his glass dancing around in them at the same time. “Some are lucky to have both of those things present at the same time, others- not so much.”

You had no idea where this was going, but you knew that it was in your best interest to keep your mouth shut and listen, especially with how serious he was.

“Motivation is what keeps me going every day,” He said haltingly, ignoring the cool draft of air that danced around his feet, “And inspiration rolls around when I’m most motivated. It’s how we write our music. Every song on all the albums we’ve done has come out of our studio and ourselves.” His jaw spasmed with the offence. “So no, I didn’t sleep my way to the top, Y/n, our music got us there fair and square.”

All the things you could have been and you chose to be a first-class jerk, but the firmness in his voice was all the proof you needed. The article was a lie, Jungwoo was a liar and Renjun was a cheating rat. Culpability settled deep in your gut, this time without the intention of ever leaving.

“I believe you.”

The sheer conviction in your voice surprised him, and so did the way you were looking at him, with that same determined look you always wore, but this time it was directed at him. You truly did believe every word that had come out of his mouth and he couldn’t have been more grateful because he hadn’t heard those three words in so long.

I believe you- not from his manager, his team, or even his bandmates. They thought it, of course, they did, he was sure of that, but they never said it aloud to assure him of it. All they did was remind him of what he had to do to fix the messes he always managed to stumble into, willingly or not. When you said it, it was like the weight he had been carrying around for so long slipped off his shoulders and let him stand up straight for the first time in a long time.

“You do?” You hadn’t expected the undertone of vulnerability that came along with how he said that, the earnest hope that so subtly accompanied it.

You nodded, locking eyes with him without the intention of ever looking away. You believed him so much that it was killing you a little because you had seen the hurt that flickered in his otherwise calm expression, the poker face he had perfected after all these years of wearing it. You didn’t have to repeat it because you somehow knew that it had settled in and made the impression you had wanted it to already.

Taeyong looked away first, but not entirely. His eyes fell to your lips, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, your mind running at a mile a minute the moment he did. The air between your bodies turned to electric static and nothing more, a magnetic pull that beckoned you closer to him as if you weren’t already right by his side.

It was that vulnerability and your pure acceptance that tipped him over completely and he willingly let go.

His lips met yours delicately, ghosting over yours as your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, heart hammering through the confines of your chest, begging for freedom and solace in his hands, for it was fairly obvious that he had managed to snatch it away before you even noticed it wasn’t yours to claim anymore. As if sensing the fearful hesitance in the way he just barely brushed his mouth against yours, you let all of your inhibitions go and let your mind go blank as you pressed your lips back against his.

Somewhere through the seconds of your lip-lock, his hand cupped your jaw, calloused fingers holding you gently as his thumb brushed against your cheekbone, lulling you further into him. You could taste the whiskey on his lips, coaxing the guilt out of your system and replacing its heaviness with a warmth you couldn’t quite put your finger on, focusing on the way he kissed you. You basked in the way he moved his lips by yours as if he was memorizing every little thing about them, like a sunflower standing proud in the presence of the sun's rays.

When he pulled back slightly you found yourself chasing his lips, reaching out and tugging on the material of his shirt as you eagerly met him halfway once again and it was when you finally understood how addictions came to be. He lit a fire under the expanse of your skin, a fire you never wanted to put out for as long as you lived, to let it burn until it consumed your very being.

You weren’t sure when the both of you broke away from each other’s mouths, still buzzing from the pure intoxication he had provided you with. You were much closer than before, so much so that his hot breath mingled with yours as his forehead pressed against yours, and you stayed like that for a few minutes until his hand slipped gently into your hair.

“Thank you,” He breathed out quietly, staying like that. A fluttery jab hit you right in your chest at that, and you reached up until your hand was on his, deciding that everything else could afford to take a backseat if you were allowed to be in his arms like this, even for just a few more minutes. Somehow, you managed to find your voice despite being sure you had lost it the moment this bewitching man kissed you to echo.

“I believe you.”

And then perhaps you finally let yourself fall, but not aimlessly like you had in the past. Unprecedented, you let yourself finally entertain the idea of falling in love.

“Hello, this is Kim Jungwoo speaking.”

In truth, you weren’t too fond of confrontation. You were about to cut the call the moment the second ring buzzed through your device, but your tenacity prevailed, coaxing you to hold on until he picked up. You gripped your phone a little tighter, trying to ignore the sudden dampness of your palms.

“Jungwoo,” You started, putting on a professional tone for the sake of the call. “This is Y/n L/n from The Link, I apologize for the sudden nature of this call, but do you have a few minutes?”

To some, loose ends provided an area for speculation, where they could freely put out their thoughts into the world all while protecting themselves by mentioning it was all ‘alleged’. You had never been one to endorse speculation, especially when you had pretty darn good evidence pointing towards what was the truth. Jungwoo was the loose end you were going to tie up.

“Y/n! Oh hey, yeah sure, is something wrong?” You could hear the mild recognition in his voice- he just barely remembered who you were, you were sure, but that was to be expected. He was senior to you and had been working at The Link for much longer as well, so the most he would have known about your existence was the fact that you spent a whole three months running around and getting people their coffee.

Yes, you almost said, more distressed over the situation than you cared to admit. Although he couldn’t see it, you shook your head as you spoke, “Not at all! I just have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Knock yourself out.” You heard some shuffling from his head and you exhaled, mentally applauding yourself for making it this far. Now that you had taken the first step, the rest of it shouldn’t be too hard, and you sat up straight as if you were interviewing him, gathering all your thoughts.

“Give me a minute,” You pulled the phone away from your ear before he could respond, making sure that the call was being recorded, before putting it back. Usually, you would have put the call on speaker so it would be easier to take notes, but this was a special case. You couldn’t afford the consequences of anyone listening in. “Alright, it’s my understanding that you were assigned a piece of Cherry Bomb a few months ago?”

“I was.”

“And you pulled out last minute,” You continued, tapping your nails on the small table in front of you rhythmically.

“That is true, yes, but what is this about?” He was very obviously confused, unaware of the direction that you were about to take the conversation.

“Well, you see, I was put in your place to accompany the band on tour, but a few interesting things came up and I thought that it would be best if I asked you about it since it seems like you would know the most.” Your explanation was logical, you had taken a lot of time planning exactly how this was going to go in your head, keeping your tone calm and composed as you glanced down at the ticking hands on your watch. The afternoon was dipping into the evening.

He hummed unassumingly, “Alright, go ahead.”

“Why did you refuse to write the article?”

“Family emergency.” His answer was painfully generic, you had to pinch your lips to stop yourself from outright snorting at it.

“But it’s such a valuable piece to have under your belt, Johnny mentioned that it could get you a spot at the NYT.” It was probably not a very wise decision to so blatantly and harshly press on for what could technically be classified as personal information from someone senior to you, but it was what you had to do.

He bristled a little, tsking over the phone. “Are you insinuating that a job offer is more important than family, Miss L/n?”

“I’m insinuating that you’re lying to me,” You replied, uncompromising to his attempt at gaining the upper hand. Now, this was a pretty big claim to put out there, but you knew you were right, and you were getting tired of people thinking you were so gullible and underestimating you.

“You wrote the piece on Taeyong.” You made no effort in beating around the bush, nor did you pose it as a question for his leisure, instead stating it as it was. A lesson that you were quickly learning was that you weren’t going to get anything unless you fought for it and you were going to fight for this just as you fought for your spot on the tour.

Funnily enough, you weren’t exactly fighting for yourself this time.

“I’m sorry?”

“The anonymous piece about Lee Taeyong,” you clarified, not an ounce of hesitance in your voice. “I heard your source speak to the editor a few weeks ago and everything fell into place, especially when he came around to ask me if I knew why I was there.” The silence that followed your words was extremely gratifying because it told you that you had made the right assumption.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that it hinged along the lines of a threat with how low his voice was. You pressed your lips together, swallowing the annoyance that had sprung forth with how he was speaking to you. You fisted the fingers of your other hand, feeling your nails dig into the cold skin of your palm.

“I want the real reason you dropped the piece, Jungwoo,” You used his first name, in the same manner, he used yours, forcing yourself to calm down, leaning back in the small chair you sat in and letting out a controlled sigh. One thing you couldn’t afford to do was lose control.

He guffawed, “And pray tell, what do you think that is?”

Frustration drummed through your veins at his obvious dismissal, the scrutiny in the way he spoke to you. “You’re scared of getting caught because you know it’s a fabrication.”

“Is it?” He was playing it coy now, and your temper made a surprising show as it bubbled up to the base of your throat, threatening to spill out. You weren’t one to so quickly let an intense emotion wash over you like this, so it caught you off guard as well, leaving you to swallow it down along with the lump in your throat.

“You know damn well it is,” You hissed into the mic of your phone, gripping the edge of the table to keep yourself grounded. “He didn’t do anything of the sort and you’re scared of getting caught because of what you did because it would easily tie back to you. It’s why you wrote the piece anonymously.”

“Oh cut the act Y/n, I didn’t do it because I have anything against the man, I did it because I was offered the prettiest paycheque you could ever lay your eyes on for it. And Taeyong is a celebrity, several celebrities have done what I accused him of.”

“It’s wrong,” You said, utterly flabbergasted over how unbothered Jungwoo was over the entire thing. “Just because others have doesn’t mean he has, I know he hasn’t.”

All at once, it made sense why you were so earnest in your rage towards the man, you were angry because it was hurting Taeyong more than he let you. You saw a glimpse of it that night when he kissed you and the way he relaxed in your touch when you told him you trusted him. You discovered what a lovely being he was, even if it consisted of poorly hidden rendezvous that had you being discovered almost every time, but he never seemed too concerned.

Nothing warranted him having to deal with the consequences of Jungwoo’s actions. You had learned that over the past few weeks that you had permitted yourself to get tied up in the whirlwind of chaos that consisted of his world. You learned that you liked it a little too much.

You thought of the way he looked at you when you told him you believed him. The smile that curled his lips when he saw you.

He didn’t deserve that at all.

It hit you then, just how deceptive it was for you to claim that he didn’t deserve all this and that you cared for him when you were one of the main contributors. Were you not the person who had to write an article about him? Weren’t you the person who had jumped at the opportunity to write it just so it could benefit you? And from the looks of things, you were meant to write a piece to feed into the created narrative.

You would tell him. You had to tell him because it was the right thing to do.

Just not yet.

“Please, he’s a grown-ass man who is filthy rich, you don’t have to go around defending him.” The sneer in his voice did not go unnoticed by you, causing you to grind your teeth together in an attempt to not lash out at the pompous man. How dare he have the audacity to pretend he was better than you for spewing his lies and boasting about the money he got for it.

There was no point in arguing with Jungwoo; that much was clear from your short exchange with him, and you cleared your throat so you sounded composed. “Thank you for your time, Mr Kim.”

“Good luck with your article, Y/n, have fun playing hero if you must.”

You cut the call, biting down so hard on your tongue that it hurt to stop yourself from possibly lashing out against the man. Bringing your phone down, you stared at the screen in candid incredulity at how a person could be so selfish so as to endanger someone else's career- hell, this was Taeyong’s entire life on the line!- to further theirs, especially when it wasn’t warranted in the slightest.

You narrowed your eyes and pressed the icon for the recording app, your frown slipping into a sly smile as you saw the recorded log that sat atop all the others with the day's date.

Gotcha.

The first day of July brought in the middle of the summer, the clouds turning luminous as they passed by the sun, letting its beams flicker through and warm up the world below. Taking in a deep breath, you smiled when you made your way downstairs to greet the band that morning- and one of them in particular, because your trusty research had told you that the summer wasn’t the only thing that the first of July graced with its presence.

It was Taeyong’s twenty-fourth birthday and the day of yet another one of their shows, but this time everyone seemed to be more relaxed, smiles on their faces due to the occasion. You had never thought about how one would go about celebrating their birthday on the road, but since you were directly involved this time, you pushed your tribulations with Jungwoo to the back of your mind as you slipped into the kitchen and gripped the handle of the fridge, pulling it open to see the brown box that sat on the third shelf.

The day before, you had helped the rest of the band inconspicuously get a cake in his favourite flavour- green tea- and had it decorated with white and pink frosting, his favourite colour. It had taken you two hours to find a bakery that sold the specific flavour in San Fransisco, and by the end of it, you found yourself very lost in the new city. Thankfully, you had the boon of Google Maps to assist you in your journey back and had managed to hide it in the kitchen with the man of the day being none the wiser.

His liking of green tea cake was only the first of his many odd quirks that you had come to learn and subconsciously smile at the thought of, things that one couldn’t find through a simple google search. He bought lego sets in his free time and built them, apparently displaying all his creations on a shelf at his house, his comfort movie was Howl’s Moving Castle, and he had a hobby of buying and building a collection of unique shoes that he somehow managed to pull off and had a penchant for sweet snacks.

Taeyong was loveable in every sense, so naturally, it was so easy to fall in love with him.

“Doyoung, not the hair!”

His voice rang out, laced in mock annoyance and you rolled your eyes, shutting the fridge and walking out into the main lounge area, only to see the usually stoic man practically on top of Taeyong. Although he was generally calmer than the others, you had quickly picked up on the dynamic between him and Taeyong, which resembled something like Tom and Jerry, the two always looking for reasons to bicker.

“You’re old now,” He said, messing up his hair, much to the birthday boy’s despair, “How does it feel?”

“I don’t know, about as boring as you are.”

“Fuck off- oh, hey Y/n.” Doyoung finally stopped troubling Taeyong to greet you, also catching the attention of the latter, who glanced up to see you standing there with an amused grin on your face. It was always entertaining to watch the band interact with each other, it reminded you that under all the glamour and popularity they possessed, they were just a bunch of guys having fun.

“Hey,” You giggled at the sight, folding your arms as you leaned against the metal frame that separated the lounge from the kitchen area and biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snorting at the way Taeyong’s hair adorably stuck up in different directions due to his friend's ministrations. “Looks like you’re having fun.”

“They’ve been doing this since the moment I woke up,” He all but whined, staring at you keenly with those captivating eyes of his softer than usual, as if urging you to help get him out of that situation. It was then you noticed him as a whole, from the sweatpants that hung low on his hips to his lack of shirt.

Bloody hell, did he have to look like this in the morning?

Even at nine in the morning, he looked stunning and as if this was a good enough reason to be annoyed, you let your eyes wander for a minute, lingering on the tattoos that decorated the expanse of his pale skin. Then you looked back up, pushing down the warmth that was creeping up onto your face, and smiled.

“Happy birthday.”

Taeyong ran a hand through his hair to try and fix it, his own simper making a show. “Thank you, baby.”

Oh, did we talk about the nicknames? It should have been illegal for a man this ravishing to be able to pull off saying terms of endearance and manage to have your heart skip a beat while he did. Doyoung pretended to gag and walked away, shooting you a look that you couldn’t read before leaving the bus. You paid it no mind as you made your way towards Taeyong, reaching up so that your arms looped up around his neck, and pulled him down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss.

His hands quickly found purchase on your hips as he chuckled lightly, the sound going straight to your stomach. You had grown very accustomed to kissing him and loved every second of it, even if sometimes those kisses were embarrassingly long. He was positively irresistible, that much you were certain of, and every interaction you shared with him never failed to pull you in.

So perhaps you were a little in over your head when it came to Taeyong, but by god, was it worth it.

“Oh, I like this birthday gift,” He quipped, kissing the side of your mouth and then tugging you closer so your body was flush against his, arms securely around your waist. You felt flushed but didn’t let it stop you from burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne deeply as if you were trying to memorize it.

“How much?”

“Kiss me again and you’ll find out.” An offer you took up all too easily, especially with the taunting smirk that clung to his lips and the mischievous look in those hooded eyes of his, a look that always managed to elicit a delicious shiver from you. This time, the kiss was slower but just as dizzying and you couldn’t help but sigh, embracing the hotness that invaded your cheeks.

You were so preoccupied with him that you didn’t notice the door of the bus crack open a little and the pair of eyes that watched the two of you. You broke away from the heated kiss, unable to stop the idiotic smile from blooming on your face as you pushed him away playfully.

“I think I’m an excellent gift giver.” You winked, straightening out your outfit, “Now shoo, you have rehearsal.”

“Trying to get rid of me on my birthday? You wound me, Y/n.” He dramatically placed his hand over his heart, putting on a sorrowful expression that had you rolling your eyes in a combination of exasperation and amusement.

You shook your head and some of your hair out of your face in the process, proceeding to complain even though it held no real displeasure, “I have to work, even if it’s your birthday, and you’re very distracting.”

“That’s a you problem,” He mumbled cheekily, not looking away from you even once, a gesture that woke those butterflies that seemed to have moved into the pit of your stomach once again. When you shot him a warning look that wasn’t threatening in the slightest, he fought a smile and raised his hands to the sides of his head in defence. “But fine, if you must.”

You waved him off, letting out a sound of protest when he stole a kiss from you which left you with the objection stuck in your throat, but you acquiesced. By the time they would be done, you would have at least managed to finish up some of your work along with setting up the cake that you had spent so long scavenging for, and Mark was going to leave rehearsals a little earlier so he could help you.

“Have fun birthday boy,” You mumbled fondly, touching your lips as if silently questioning where all your reminders of professionalism went. “And put on a damn shirt!”

Irene's heels clicked on the pavement as she walked away from the tour bus after she made sure the door was closed, with her head held high as it always was, refusing to show even a hint of what she had just seen on it. After years of practice, she had gotten very good at controlling her expressions when needed.

She supposed that in some way this was her fault. After all, she was the one who told Taeyong to get on your good side for the sake of the article because of dire the situation was. She hadn’t exactly given him a manual to tell him how to go about it, had she? Winning you over would mean winning a battle.

So when Doyoung came up to her and told her that Taeyong was kissing you, all she could think was ‘Well that’s certainly one way to do it.’

As Cherry Bomb’s manager, it was her job to weigh the pros and cons of every situation and decision made regarding the band's career. She had been doing it for the past five years and had always managed to make sure they stayed on top of all the happenings, but hadn’t anticipated you to make such an….impact, to say the least. She was the one the agreed to have a journalist on board to make a good impact on would do wonders to extinguish the rumours that had been circulating.

The little affair between you and Taeyong wasn’t what she had expected to happen at all, so it fell under the category of being a complication, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was a bad thing. As long as they played it right, it would work out perfectly in their favour, and so she listed it as a pro.

For now.

She glanced down at the watch on her wrist, sighing when she realized that the rehearsals were starting a few minutes late due to the sound check taking extra time than usual. Usually, she would have hounded everyone to pick up their pace, but it was Taeyong’s birthday, and she did not want to intrude on your tryst back there with him. It was probably better if she didn’t, might make for an even nicer article.

Irene wasn’t one of the older managers, but she was a respected one because she knew how to get things done and she did it well. A lot of people asked her how it felt to manage the biggest band in the world, and how she was so good at what she did and her answer always consisted of the same smile and pretty thanks.

The real reason was too humiliating to actually talk about because it involved her past- the time before she was a manager because unfortunately, that did exist, even if she ignored it for the most part.

It was why she was so hard on the boys. She knew from personal experience that the smallest of slip-ups could lead to everything they had worked for crashing and burning.

When she was seventeen, she had been scouted to be a singer and she had been very good too, but before she could even come out as an artist, her label dropped her due to lies that another singer she had been briefly involved with had spread about her. At merely eighteen, it frustrated her to no end that the dream that she had worked for over a year had slipped out of her fingers just like that.

It didn’t just frustrate her- it stagnated her for three years until she decided that if she couldn’t be out on stage, she was going to be behind it and make sure no one else ever had to deal with that. The very moment she had laid eyes on the band when they first formed, she saw the drive that she once possessed in them and insisted on managing them after she trained to be a manager.

She was almost twenty-nine now, her chance at stardom had long faded with her youth, but she had settled for living vicariously through her boys. She loved them too much to let a rumour destroy them, especially when it was the very thing that destroyed her.

Seeing Taeyong being so affectionate with you was new, he had always been the wild card of the group, even if he was the oldest and the leader. He was never one to settle, so he must have really been pulling out all the stops to protect the group. Maybe she had underestimated him, but it was done in good spirit.

Under her care, she would make sure that they were untouchable if it was the last thing she did.

Even though every stadium they performed at was different, backstage always functioned with the same sort of organized unruliness no matter what. Over time, you had grown to appreciate how it worked, watching with the same wonder-stricken curiosity you always held with it came to it.

You were home- kind of. This particular concert was in LA, which was where you lived and worked and where the band resided as well, but funnily enough, it wasn’t their last show. They still had around one month of the tour left, before they left for the rest of the world tour.

“I think you’re in the wrong place, miss.”

An enthralled smile automatically tugged at your lips and you had to suppress the urge to groan and roll your eyes at how easily Taeyong managed to lift your spirits. Turning around, you faced him in all his pre-show glory as he stood there with that cocky look on his outlandishly handsome face, and raised an eyebrow in question.

“What do you mean?” And at that, he produced a slip of paper, holding it out in front of you like you were a cat and it was a piece of yarn. Frowning as you tried to figure out what it was, you grabbed his wrist and plucked it out from between his fingers. “What’s this?”

“A ticket,” He replied plainly, looking far too prideful for his own good. “I promised you that you would watch a show of ours one day, didn’t I? Today is that day, so you should get to your seat because I picked you a really nice one during rehearsals today. Empty stadiums are great for figuring these things out.”

Oh.

You stared at the ticket, strong emotion flickering in your chest when you realized he had remembered what you had told him almost three months ago at this point. The small paper crumbled a little at how tight you were holding it between your index finger and thumb. “Thank you,” You whispered, incredibly touched. “But really, you didn’t have to.”

He brushed it off immediately. “I don’t go back on my word, remember? Now get out there, and make sure to scream for me.”

Taeyong kept chipping in and fulfilling small dreams of yours little by little, and you wondered if your new dream included staying with him because it was sure starting to look like that. You nodded, slipping the ticket into your pocket and pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss and silent thanks, before bidding him farewell.

Now, you may have been used to the disorder backstage, but nothing could have ever prepared you for the pure pandemonium outside. The roar of anticipating fans echoed through the entire stadium, not leaving room for even a smidge of silence, and you pushed through to get to your seat and once you had arrived, you had to admit that it was a good one. It was five rows away from the stage, close enough to watch everything upfront without having to look at the huge screens, but far away enough to not have to crane your neck.

When the lights dimmed, part of you joined their excitement as your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation drumming through your veins as your eyes trained on the stage. You had missed the opening act (an LA-based singer called Joshua Hong, under the same label as the band but a smaller artist in terms of a following- apparently, he had gotten famous from his cover of ‘Sunday Morning’ going viral, and the rest was history. You had briefly met him when he had returned backstage after his set) but it had left everyone even more excited for the main act.

Suddenly the resounding beat of a bass drum echoed through the stadium, accompanied by a countdown and a spotlight shone on the middle of the stage as it rose, revealing the band bit by bit. The audience waited in bated breath as they came up, a static silence coating the place for a few seconds.

And when Taeyong sang the first lyric, standing there holding his bass guitar in the front, the entire amphitheatre erupted in screams.

The energy in there was absolutely indescribable, infectious in the best possible way. The entire band joined in with the drumming, their instruments forming a melody so perfect sounding in the grittiest way possible. You could barely hear them singing because of how loud their fans were, their combined voices overtaking the artists they were there to see in the first place.

Chaos. Beautiful, unmatched chaos.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your lips, left unnoticed as it was buried under all the cacophony and thousands of fans singing along to a song that they knew so well. After having done so much research and listening to their music in the process, you distinctly recalled the tune just enough to be able to hum along and participate in the smallest way.

The overwhelming glare of the lights illuminated them perfectly and you lost yourself in the music though you didn’t know much about it at all. From the pounding of Yuta’s precise drumming that acted as the backbone for it all to Doyoung’s flawless playing on the keys. The way Mark and Jeno’s respective parts on the guitars blended so well like they were one was a true testament to the artists they were.

But you were much too preoccupied with the frontman, who stood there, commanding every ounce of your attention with just his presence. He didn’t even have to look at what he was playing, automatically doing what he had to as if it had been written into his blood, tilting his head as he sang into the mic in front of him.

They belonged on that stage and were destined to stay on it for the rest of their lives, undoubtedly timeless.

Pride swelled in your chest as you watched the boys you had grown to love and closer to over the past three months as they harmonized while never losing their individual sounds for even a moment, one a little more than the others. One you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life watching.

You froze amidst mouthing along to the words that you had picked up on, inhaling sharply as the thought crossed your mind before you could stop it, so unexpected that it rendered you speechless.

Were you in love with Lee Taeyong?

The answer came to you so swiftly that it nearly knocked you off of your feet, grabbing you and opening your eyes to how you felt about the man. When he happened to look right where you were sitting because he had personally picked out your seat, and sang a particularly romantic line that was cloaked in heavy bass and crisp drumming, you knew.

When the song ended, they started another almost immediately after, this time changing it up so that it was catered to the audience’s interaction, which they gave all too eagerly, their energy at an all-time high as the night was still young. The smiles never faded from each member’s faces as they performed, unequivocally feeding off the enthusiasm that they were being presented with.

You finally understood the buzz around concerts, the absolute adrenaline rush that they gave a person from simply standing amongst the crowd because you were finally a part of it. Your experience was a little different, mixed in with the realization of another emotion, but you loved every second of it nevertheless. By the time they had finished the third song, you knew that this was going to be their best concert yet.

They stopped playing, and Taeyong pulled the mic in front of him out of its stand and walked to the front of the stage, revelling in the growing screams that accompanied his every move. Delighted goosebumps arose on his skin as he drank it all in, the feeling that he got at the start of every concert no matter how many of them he played. His signature smile that drove their fans crazy made a show as he lifted the mic to his lips.

“Hello Los Angeles, welcome to THE CHERRY ON TOP STADIUM TOUR!!!”

After talking with the audience for a bit, they continued with a few songs, even including a mashup of two of them that drove everyone wild. Their stage presence was insane, from the way they interacted with each other and everyone else in the stadium, and at one point even brought out another popular artist that was in LA at the time to join them in one of their songs.

They played Dark Clouds as a throwback to their beginnings, and then Blue, a heavier, more emotional song that was close to their hearts as well as the hearts of their fans, who somehow managed to scream along even to those delicate lyrics.

At one point, someone threw their bra on stage during one of the talking bits, leading to the very comical scene of Taeyong picking it up and hanging it on the end of his bass. Watching it happen was surreal, funny as hell, but so odd that you laughed hard along with everyone else. The sense of community that they created was admirable and you were grateful to be a part of it, even for just a few hours.

Truly, there weren’t enough words to describe the magnificence of the concert, the way the lighting ebbed and flowed according to the songs they performed and how the dancers that came out during specific performances put their best foot forward with everything they did. It was remarkably easy to see why Cherry Bomb was the best and why they would say the best.

The last song was an encore, a song that even you knew the lyrics to, bringing the enthusiasm that had dwindled ever so slightly from the start back to the area. When the last notes were played and the last lines were sung, and they thanked the crowd that night, you were surprised at the sudden emergence of tears in your eyes, emotional over the way it had ended so quickly.

It was the perfect ending to an impeccable show, one that would forever be engraved in your mind.

When the lights turned back on as they retreated backstage, it felt as if you were in the wrong place, like what you had just witnessed wasn’t reality in the slightly, but rather a beautiful dream you wished hadn’t ended. You stood there, staring blankly at the now deserted stage as the crowds dispersed, sobering up from the high they had gotten from the experience, hand stuffed in your pocket as you gripped the ticket tightly, unable to let go just yet.

You didn’t know how or when you managed to move again, snapping out of the spell the show had put you under, making your way to the front and to the door that led backstage, showing the guard that was stationed there the pass you had been issued at the start of the tour. Once you had walked inside, you possessed new respect for the work they did there, because there was no way the concert would have been as excellent as it was without those behind the scenes.

In the midst of it all, you saw Taeyong walking away from his mates, sipping on some water. He had lost the red leather jacket that he wore for every show, left in only a black vest that had a few buttons undone as they were, hair a little matted from the humidity. His eyes, however, were alight with a certain type of zeal that was the by-product of the adrenaline rush that no doubt coursed through his veins.

He was stunning.

He spotted you, pulling the bottle away from his mouth as he shot you a crooked little smile, and if you knew any better, you would have said that it held a hint of nervousness in it. Taking this as your cue, you began walking over, but before you knew it your walk turned into a sprint as you practically threw yourself in his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around him as you let him anchor you back down to earth.

“...So?” He asked, hand on the small of your back and other at the back of your head, securing your position. It scared you a tad, just how perfect it felt like there was nowhere else you would rather be.

“I loved it,” You whispered, fingers clinging to the thick material of his vest, the cool surface of the pins on them pressed against your skin. “God Taeyong that was….I can’t even begin to tell you how-”

He chuckled faintly, the enchanting sound getting lost in your hair as he tucked some of it behind your ear. “I hope it’s still the best show you’ve ever been to.”

“It always will be.” It was surprising how sure of that you were as you stepped out of his embrace, mildly embarrassed over how naturally you had run into his arms like it was something you had meant to do all this time. To rid your mind of that thought, you blurted out, “We should probably join the others and get to the cars so we can leave.”

You weren’t getting cold feet by any means, you were simply adjusting to the concept of loving him. Now that it had crossed your mind, it seemed like a permanent notion that wanted to stay and you weren’t used to the delight that accompanied it.

“We’re not going with them.” He stated mischievously.

“We’re not?” Your blatant confusion wasn’t lost on him, but if the look on his face told you anything, you would say that it was best to just follow along with what he had in mind. After all, you had been doing that for a bit now and it had always worked out in your favour.

Taeyong shook his head, his hand finding yours as he guided you out from backstage with the rest of the band, but then didn’t go in the car that the rest piled into, waving them off instead. With every passing moment, your curiosity grew and peaked when another car pulled up right where you were standing with him

“Most of the time when we’re in LA, we stay in this house that we have that’s close to our record label’s building.” He started to explain as he opened the car door for you, “But I actually have an apartment in the city, so I thought we could go back there tonight instead of back to the bus.”

He said this nonchalantly, but the meaning behind it was that he wanted to let you into his life a little more because it was becoming increasingly obvious that what he felt for you wasn’t temporary like it had been for other girls he had been with. Instead, it festered, amplifying with every minute he spent with you and surprisingly enough, he wasn’t against that possibility.

“Oh,” You whispered, voice oddly soft as if you had somehow picked up on this and were moved. The phantom of a smile danced on your lips as you nodded, slipping into the passenger seat as the driver got out of his, tipping his head to Taeyong and walking away. He took the driver's seat, started the car and looked at you through the rearview mirror.

Taeyong had always known he was a selfish person, and while some might have seen that as a flaw within themselves, he had never done that. He liked knowing what he wanted and getting it, but there was something about you that amplified that part of him because, with you, he wanted it all, even the things that weren’t possible due to who he was. Things he couldn’t have because of what he had played this relationship off as to the others.

Falling for someone was hard when the entire world could watch.

But being the selfish soul he was, he wanted it all. Perhaps it was a foolish notion to create and keep wishes that were much too out of his reach, yet the thought of discarding them never once occurred to him.

Much like Taeyong himself, his place was nothing like you expected but fit perfectly with who he was. It was massive, more appropriately called a penthouse, with huge windows and an interior that was on the expensive side, and when he switched the lights on you could see how it was minimally decorated, nothing too fancy since as he had told you before, he didn’t stay here very often, but with a pleasant ambience.

“I may have fibbed a little,” He admitted, a sheepish look slipping onto his features. Walking into the place, he placed the keys on the table with a soft clattering sound that seemed much louder than it was in the emptiness of the apartment.

“The apartment isn’t exactly what I wanted to show you.”

You raised a questioning eyebrow at this, “What is it then?”

He was just full of surprises, wasn’t he? If there was one thing he had taught you, it was how to appreciate the ‘magic of surprises’, as he had so eloquently put it all those weeks ago when it took you out in New York. Somehow, he always managed to spring one on your unsuspecting self whenever he pleased and you couldn’t find it in yourself to dislike it.

Taeyong gestured at you to follow him as he walked even further into the apartment, through a small corridor and into a bedroom, where he opened one of the closets to reveal a singular object sitting inside.

A guitar case.

He carefully picked it out, holding the rough fabric of the case as he unzipped it and let the top half fall open to reveal the neck of a guitar, which he gently gripped as he pulled it out.

It was a deep Walnut brown, lined with a lighter shade of the same colour that accentuated the edges and curves of the instrument. You walked forward to where he was standing slowly, studying the surface of the guitar once you were close enough to do so. He dropped the now empty case and it crumpled to the floor, already forgotten.

As he held the guitar up horizontally for you to gaze upon, you took note of the various little markings on the bottom that you couldn’t deduce to be accidental or on purpose, but it gave it character. You gently ran your fingers over them, briefly smiling at the small signature of an old artist that was planted off to the side of the guitar. It was a reminder, one that told you that he was once a wide-eyed fan in the crowd.

“I got this when I was twelve,” He said ardently, reminiscing the clear fond memories that came along with it. “It was my birthday and until then I had been using my dad’s old Gibson to learn how to play. When they presented me with this I was ecstatic because it was the very first guitar that I could call my own.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as he thought about it, running his fingers over the now loose strings- the result of being unused over the years. He toyed with the tuning heads aimlessly, a wistful expression twisted into the existing look on his face. “I named her Izabella- the same name that Jimi Hendrix named his most famous guitar because I wanted to be just as good as him someday.”

The image of a tween Taeyong filters through your mind, a short little kid sitting on the floor next to this huge present, a sparkle of excitement entering his eyes when he realised what his present was. You imagined his smaller figure holding it for the first time and naming it, vowing to be the best guitarist there was.

“I used her in all my school competitions, played at every event I could until I got into bass, and although it’s technically a different instrument, I practised on Izabella anyway.” He placed the instrument down with care, leaning it against the wall. “When I got my bass, I still played on her from time to time, but then I formed the band and slowly stopped paying attention to my first guitar, but I carried it with me when we moved to LA. “I guess that you could call it my first love.”

You stared at him intently as he looked at you properly with a boyish smile. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I tend to get caught up with music. Fuck, I even consider an instrument my first proper love.”

“It’s admirable,” You stated earnestly. He scoffed.

“And a little weird, no?” He took a step closer to you, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I care for you Y/n, but being with me…..it won’t be easy. The fans, the fact that I put my music before everything, the paparazzi waiting for every single mistake you commit- it’s not normal, but if you’re okay with it-”

He paused as if carefully thinking over the words that appeared to be so easy to put out when they left his lips.

“-I would love to keep you by my side.”

There it was again, that vulnerability that simultaneously warmed your heart whilst weighing it down with another bout of relentless guilt.

“Taeyong….” Your whisper trailed off into the silence of the apartment, hanging over your heads as you tried to pull yourself together, your affection for the man that stood in front of you finally blossoming into the beautiful rose that it had set out to be when it was merely budding. You thought about how fitting it was because of how much like a rose Taeyong was himself, delicate and beautiful but guarded with the thorns around it, untouchable.

You had to tell him.

Not soon, not later, now. You had to tell him right then as the wind beat gratingly against the windows, never once entering his space, leaving everything inside perfectly still.

“The piece I’m writing isn’t about the tour or the band.” You announced abruptly, swallowing the lump in your throat so that you could lay out the truth before him with utmost verity. His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment as you spoke, knitting together endearingly.

“It’s about you.”

Faint amusement shone in his eyes. “They tend to be like that, yep.”

“No you don’t understand,” You shook your head, ignoring the anxious bristle of goosebumps that rose on your skin. “I didn’t realise it before, but this article was meant to be against you from the very start, I was meant to write a false exposé on you that rode off the one accusing you of sleeping your way to the top because the reporter who was initially supposed to come was the one that wrote it.”

Your voice wobbled a little, your nerves seeping into it before you could stop them from doing so. “I caught the person who leaked that information- the false information- to my editor a month or so ago and confronted the writer, who confessed. I didn’t know what this was but I promise I’m only going to write the truth.”

Flushed cheeks and heavy breathing, you stared at him almost desperately, waiting for something- any sort of reaction from him. You hadn’t realized how much you were scared of this moment until you plunged yourself into the deep end, confronting it head-on without thinking too much. The silence felt a beat too long.

His eyes softened at your integrity, the promise that you conveyed with your words for him. It only seemed fair to give you the same trust that you instilled in him.

“I believe you.”

Trust was a finicky concept, one that could make or break a person completely. His trust in you lifted the weight of carrying around the burden of the true nature of the article off your shoulders, and you exhaled in relief. “Then….I would love to be by your side, Taeyong.”

“Yeah?” His voice came out in a whisper, so close now that his breath tickled your lips. A challenge spoken with that smirk-clad mouth of his, one that only succeeded in bringing heat to your face with every teasing syllable. He believed you and that was all that mattered.

You didn’t make any motion to move away, instead, instinctively moved closer until your lips met his, a silent thank you and confirmation of what you wanted– him. He pulled you closer until your body was flush against his, not a breath of space between you as his fingers brushed against the exposed skin of your waist, slipping under your shirt to secure you in place as if someone could pull you away at any moment. You could feel the rhythm of his heart against yours and every point your body connected with his, hyper-aware of every little thing he did and the electrifying way he did it.

Your guilt was long forgotten, fading into the background as you fell into the sheets of his bed, entangling with him with every kiss and promise whispered against your skin. Your fingertips traced every tattoo you had previously only had the liberty to admire and the curve of his lips, fingers intertwined as you found refuge from the world and your troubles in the comforting embrace of his arms. You laid beside him, body curled into his side, so close that the hair that fell across his forehead brushed against your own, noses pressed together and lips just barely touching.

Taeyong couldn’t help but look at you- really look at you- as you slept, the way your eyelashes kissed your cheeks and cast shadows over your face, hiding your beautiful eyes from the world at that very moment in time, and sighed contentedly. You seemed to perfect there, under the linens of his bed that had always seemed a little too lonely for just him.

Maybe it was never supposed to be just for him to inhabit.

Carefully slipping out of the bed, he padded across the floor to a window, reaching for the packet of cigarettes that sat on the small table close by, opening it and pulling one out. Then, he picked up the lighter from the old ashtray on the table, lighting the cigarette and holding it up to his lips, ones that had just kissed you more times than he could count, as he stared out into the blinding, starstruck city of Los Angeles.

Taking a slow drag, he breathed the smoke into his lungs, letting the drug get to his head and relax his mind until all he could focus on were the bright lights that blurred through the tempered glass, blinding the city that had been his house for the past five years, but never a home.

You were walking on clouds.

There was a bounce in your steps as you walked into the concert grounds in the late afternoon, a simper dancing lightly on your lips as you glimpsed up at the vibrantly coloured sky of Phoenix, oranges and blues swirling together splendidly. The sun was lively, playing hide and seek amidst the clouds and occasionally revealing itself- the very clouds you felt as if you were skipping over.

It had been a while since you had felt this elated. The last time you could remember experiencing an emotion remotely similar to this was when you got elected the editor of your University’s newspaper, and that was almost two years ago, perhaps a little more.

Cotton-candy clouds beneath your feet, light as a feather without a worry in the world.

You had awoken later than usual that day, finding yourself alone on the tour bus since they had to start rehearsals for the show in the evening. After managing to throw together some breakfast, you worked on your article; a new and improved article that you were starting from scratch; before finally deciding to join them.

You walked, the stadium this time not being too far from where the buses were parked, coffee in hand and spirits climbing higher with every step you took.

To say that you were in a good mood would have been an understatement. You finally knew what to do with your article and it was going remarkably well for someone who had neglected it for so long. Of course, your delightful frame of mind might have had something to do with a certain someone as well.

As for the piece, it was an exposé alright, but not the one everyone would be expecting. It would wake the entire world up to what had actually happened, carefully crafted so that the rumours that had spread would be considered void once it was published.

The sheer thought of your work having such an impact brought another smile to your mouth and you indulged, a sense of pride rushing through you. Your dreams had always been much too big for your own good, but now that you had your sights firmly set on them, you allowed yourself to entertain them.

You decided to surprise Taeyong, slowing your pace as you pushed the door backstage, practically tiptoeing at this point. Something you had come to cherish was the way his eyes always lit up without fail when he saw you, even though it had been almost two months since your little relationship of sorts began. Growing up, you had always believed that excitement like that for someone was fleeting, it faded within a week or so, and you thought this because of how implausible the concept was to you.

Now that you were someone holding those very sentiments, you were glad that you had been wrong.

In retrospect, it was childish to want to surprise him when he knew he would see you every day, but with only a few shows left before they left for the rest of their world tour, you wanted to make the most of every moment you had with him. Then, you would have to wait for four months.

Judging from the currently empty stage, they were on a break from practising for the evening, making your plan all the easier to execute. Once you located the green rooms with little help, you made your way over and grabbed the knob, twisting it clockwise slowly so that the click would be barely audible and pushed slightly.

And right then was the third time you eavesdropped on a conversation, this time both parties were present, which stripped you from the trouble of having to imagine what the other was saying. You stopped pushing, leaving only a sliver of space between the door frame and the edge of the door itself as you heard Irene speak.

“I’m a little concerned about whatever you have going on with Y/n.”

Her voice was matter-of-fact, stating this plainly- harshly, even. You subconsciously straightened yourself up at the sound of your name, freezing your motions of opening the door to effectively listen in without being caught. The irony of it all was not lost on you, because here you were once again, doing something you probably weren’t supposed to.

“I thought you’d be overjoyed,” Taeyong replied flatly, disinterest in the conversation as clear as day. An exasperated sigh from her end followed, but before she could say anything, he continued, “Wasn’t all this your idea in the first place?”

Her idea? What?

The silence that followed was oddly suffocating, your brows knitted together in confusion, feeling like you had missed a substantial part of the exchange. Your grip on the doorknob tightened as if having control over that would make up for your lack of information right then.

“I told you to be on your best behaviour and get on her good side so we’d get an ass-kissing of an article out of it. This is a little extreme.”

“It’s none of your business.” His words held a warning, but they were so defensive; reeking of transgression that you had come to recognise so easily after carrying out your own guilt for so long.

She clicked her tongue, taking it in her stride and refusing to back down. “It is my goddamn business, Taeyong, everything about your life is my business. You know this.”

Your face suddenly felt tight, lips parting in stupefaction and an anxious lump making itself known in your throat that made it imperceptibly harder to breathe. For the first time in all your instances of listening in, you wanted to walk away lest you heard something- and yet, you didn’t know what you wanted to hide from.

But your feet were firmly planted to the ground, rooted in place as was your hand on the doorknob, blinking rapidly as you tried to process what was happening.

Intuition was meant to save you, so why was it mocking you?

“I have it under control, so just- just stay out of it, okay?” The agitation in his voice felt misplaced, a projection of what he couldn’t hold in.

“Will it fix everything?”

“Irene-”

“Goddamnit Taeyong, will we get an article that fixes everything?” The chill in the air bit into your skin, your own desperation almost matching the very same that was held in her voice, one that felt personal

“We will.”

Nothing could have ever prepared you for the sharp sting that tore through your chest at that moment, mercilessly destroying every shred of hope that you possessed. Scraps of the entire picture fell into place like a line of dominoes falling over, practically knocking you off your feet as all the air in your lungs escaped you

Her idea?

A good article?

Get on her good side?

You ripped your hand off the doorknob, recoiling so quickly that one would have assumed that the metal piece was made of fire, eyes widening in devastation as your heart sunk six feet under the ground. You staggered backwards, your feet carrying you as far away from the green room as they could before you could even comprehend the action, unaware of the happenings that took place as the world around you crumbled.

And along with it, your trust in Taeyong shattered just like your heart had, revealing him for what he truly was.

A dirty liar.

Escaping backstage, you stumbled out into the grounds, gasping for oxygen as if would help make sense of all that you had just heard and pull out whatever unsullied truth that could possibly lie between the muddled words. When you found nothing, the burn in your ribcage worsened in its intensity until you had to lean against the walls of the building for some- any- semblance of stability.

If you had been on cloud nine just a few minutes ago, you were now facing the torrential downpour.

You glanced up and peered at the Phoenix sky that had lost all its charm, never having looked as cold as it did right then.

Taeyong clicked his tongue, walking out of the green room and straightening out the sour expression that twisted his features, finding a certain comfort in the constant buzz backstage. To say that he despised when Irene brought up the topic of you and the article was an understatement, and she had started doing it more often, much to his despair.

He had started saying whatever the manager wanted to get her off his back, mindlessly nodding and agreeing with her questions and decisions to avoid any sort of unnecessary conflict. He knew she had noticed his complacent attitude, but it was all worth it if it meant he could spend the time he would usually use up arguing with Irene with you instead.

A small frown slipped onto his face at the realisation of you not being there, which was odd. You always tagged along on show days, so seeing you missing was odd.

A sliver of worry sequestered its way inside of him, but he shut it down just as quickly. There was always the possibility of you growing tired of having to sit through the same routine almost every week. Maybe you’d just show up for the show instead of the entire thing.

Having successfully convinced himself, he picked up his bass and walked back out to finish the sound check. He relaxed, any concern fading away the moment he found himself back on stage and singing into the mic with some of the people he loved the most in the world, even if it was just in an empty stadium.

It reappeared with a cruel vengeance when he saw that you hadn’t shown up for the show.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to plaster on a smile and walk back inside, surrendering to the pangs of hurt that seemed to come in waves, a viscous riptide that you had been caught in with no rescue team on the way. It pulled you further in until your feet could no longer reach the floor of the ocean and you were left to drown.

So you walk back to the bus, away from the growing discordance of fans arriving and back to the place you thought would alleviate the heaviness you felt. The journey back offered ruthless clarity, blaring in your face the moment you found yourself standing inside the bus when you realized that it all felt so uncharacteristically foreign.

Gone was the homely feeling that had grown over you every time you were inside of it, instead replaced with the same bleak frigidness that the sky had presented you with.

The very sentiment in your heart.

And so you walked back out, wishing you had a jacket to shield you from the constant chill in the air tonight, one that nipped harshly at your exposed skin, yet you couldn’t bear to go back inside to get one. You stood outside the bus, watching as the sun dipped below the skyline and the sky darkened even further until it was all one sorrowful colour- an unyielding dark blue.

The moon came into view, insulting you with the serene beauty it possessed no matter what the circumstances. On most nights, you would appreciate the way it was a constant, travelling back into the sky almost every night even though it knew the sun would eventually outshine it, breathing daylight onto the surface of the earth and rendering it forgotten. People regarded the moon as a thing of romance, the very notion made you scoff. The white light that it derived from the sun was nothing short of austere, desolate in its illumination. You shut your eyes, tipping your head upwards to bask in it, despising the way that you would never look at it the same way ever again because of this day, this evening and this night.

You stood out there for god knows how long, only realizing that hours had passed when you registered the dull ache on the soles of your feet and the clicking of cars opening and footsteps closening in.

Glancing to the source of the sound, your eyes searched for Taeyong out of habit and hardened when you finally spotted him walking over. It wasn’t as if you had forgotten that you would have to face him- you hadn’t at all- but it had been nice to pretend to not know for at least a little while.

He saw you standing there, looking at him with an expression that he couldn’t read no matter how much he tried to. Noticing that you were a little away from the buses, he muttered a mindless excuse to Yuta as he departed from the group to join you instead, questions rising to his mind with every step closer.

The way your heartbeat picked up the moment he was close enough for you to look at through your periphery was bitterly ironic, you had to bite down on your tongue to avoid letting out the humourless laugh that bubbled to your anxiously bitten lips. You hated the fragment of hope that naively slithered into you, how you were so aware of how foolish it was to even possess so little of it.

“Hey,” He muttered, faltering a little when you didn’t do so much as to look at him, opting to stare at your shoes instead of at him and the sound of his voice- the voice that always went straight to your stomach and scattered your thoughts without fail. When it happened once again, you panicked as he continued.

“You weren’t at the show today.”

And suddenly it made perfect sense why you still retained that hope for him.

“I wasn’t,” You confirmed his statement, hoping your voice hadn’t come out as choked up as it felt.

“Why?” The benignity in his question felt much too raw for you, your tongue stiffening into silence and laying heavily in your mouth. You heard the soft click of the tour bus door as it shut, leaving you alone with him under the twinkling stars and mercenary moon.

You didn’t know how to answer, letting out a shaky breath to brace yourself for whatever left your mouth in the next few minutes and to deal with the cold in your pathetic little way. “Does it matter?”

If he had thought something was wrong before, he definitely knew it now. There was a sense of detachment in the way you said it- not nonchalant per se, but more so like you were doing your best not to be concerned. He could see it in the slight quiver of your lower lip, the way you seemingly couldn’t bare to even steal a glance at him.

“Of course it matters, you matter Y/n.”

This. This was why you still hoped so futilely that everything you had heard was just a big misunderstanding, that you weren’t simply a means to an end. You had loved the way he made you feel; important and loved; how he spoke to you so affectionately and made you feel like you were the only woman he had ever wanted.

But hope and denial are two sides of the same coin, a double-edged sword of the sort, and the thing about double-edged swords is that it’s going to hurt no matter what way you twist it.

“If I matter so much, why did you lie to me?”

His breath caught in his throat and stayed there, forming a lump in his throat that seemed to restrict his breathing and ability to speak. “What?” He whispered out, strained.

You glimpsed at him subsequently, wondering just how long you had been living in blissful ignorance, how utterly gullible you had been when it came to Taeyong. How many times had you told him you believed him and trusted him without a doubt, handing over your fragile little heart to him to do as he pleased with it?

“I heard you talk to Irene,” You admitted hoarsely, your hand curling into a fist to keep yourself together the only way you could think of. “This entire thing- you and I; whatever the fuck we were- it’s a lie, isn’t it?” You abhorred the way your words came out brokenly as you looked into his eyes, attempting to peer inside his very soul to extract the answer from him, waiting for the resplendent rose of love that had bloomed in the cavity of your chest to make itself known.

The thing about roses was that although they protected themselves with their thorns, they never cared about those they hurt in the process.

“Y/n I-”

The rose wilted instead, the septic truth crudely cutting through your futile hope and forcing you to open your eyes to the reality of the world around you, never accounting for the state of pure agony it left you in. The regret that shone through those expressive eyes of his hurt you to your very core, confirming your worst suspicion.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

You could barely comprehend the words that left your lips, lips that had been kissed by the traitor that stood in front of you right then. “I trusted you Taeyong, and all you did was lie to me.”

“I didn’t want to,” He said weakly, not bothering to even attempt to deny the accusation you had thrown at him, his voice failing him every time he thought of doing so. He thought of every moment you had shared your own vulnerability with him when you so lovingly put out the truth for him about what you were doing and how he had so shamelessly continued to love you while betraying you at the same time. “You were never meant to hear that.”

It was almost satirical, so much so that you had to scoff humourlessly at that, hating the sudden ache that was present behind your eyes and the dampness that followed. “So you just planned to keep lying to me? Wow.” You laughed bitterly and looked back at the sky, willing your tears to disappear. You couldn’t bear the idea of crying in front of the man that hurt you so badly, he didn’t deserve another second of weakness from you. “Real nice.”

“No that wasn’t-” Frustration bled into his voice, guilt slamming into his chest so violently that it drowned out every other emotion inside of him, consuming him whole until all he could do was defeatedly stare at the mess he had made of everything; you and him.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

The world was cruel to drop such an unexpected heartbreak onto you when you had never been looking for love in the first place. You had been here to do a job that would push you ahead in the world of journalism. Unadulterated fury filled your veins because you were angry and so deeply hurt.

“What did you mean, then?”

He couldn’t say a single thing, now the one who shied away from meeting your tormented features. He hated the fact that it was him that had rendered you like this when it had never been his intention- truly it hadn’t- he would never hurt you on purpose. He had tried to keep it under wraps to avoid hurting you, had grown disdainful of talking about it with Irene for this very reason.

It was all his fault, intentional or not.

His silence killed you, clawing at your skin as if attempting to reach the broken pieces of your heart as tears cascaded down the flushed skin of your face despite your attempts to blink them away. You should have known that it was too perfect to be true, you should have known that something would go wrong sooner or later.

You just didn’t expect it to be sooner.

“You may have not slept your way to the top, but you sure as hell slept with me to fix your reputation.” Your voice cut through, shakier than you would have liked. You would never forget the sincerity in his voice when he told you it wasn’t true, but then again, wasn’t it the very thing he had done to save himself?

His selfish tendencies had once again caught up with him, ripping the rug from right beneath his feet before he even realised it was happening.

You had run yourself dry, left with nothing but the shards of your heart lying around you, mocking you for every opening up to someone you had known was unattainable. Picking up the pieces of whatever dignity you had left to call your own, you spoke quietly into the wind, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You want a good article? I’ll give you your damn article.”

If there had meant to be any malice in your voice, your weariness had squeezed it all out, leaving you with nothing but a sorrowful muttering of the words and somehow that hurt more than any yelling ever could. He flinched, shutting his eyes and going over every single thing he regretted about what he had done, wishing he could go back in time to undo it all and withdraw the grief he had bestowed upon you.

A few days ago, you had thought you would be the one to disrupt his world but stopped just in time for his sake and he had taken advantage of it all.

You had finally fallen in love and realized why you never let yourself do so before.

The air was far too cold for you to cope with anymore, a stark contrast to the hot tears that make their way down your face, blistering your skin. You brushed past his stoic figure and forced yourself back into the claustrophobic tour bus, ignoring the concerned looks thrown in your direction and for once in your life wishing that you could be well and truly invisible. The only comfort you received was the warmth of your makeshift bed as your pillow stained with the rest of your unspoken sorrow.

Like the unused, weak strings of his old guitar, the trust and love you had for Taeyong snapped, and the recoil had been the harshest thing you ever had to deal with.

People liked broken things.

Things, humans- it was all the same to them. Once the public had noticed his scar, they turned it into something to love, romanticising it and saying that it gave him character. He supposed that in a way, they were right, but he could never forget what it truly meant for him.

The stage lights were too bright, beating down on his face. They had been getting brighter with every show until he could barely even make out the crowd that so eagerly cheered for him and his boys. He adjusted the mic in front of him and donned a practised grin that was almost entirely believable as they got ready to perform their next song. A sad song.

Sadness and misery were as excellent muses as they were callous, any emotion could be if it was powerful enough to drown out everything else. Fans assumed that because of this very fact, producing any sort of art form using these emotions as your basis was easy and natural.

It wasn’t. It was the hardest thing in the world to put your hurt out there for the world to gawk at and judge like they had the right to do so.

And so he began to sing, but there was a certain weightage to his cadence that dragged the song down, making it truly poignant and inciting tears from the onlookers. Every syllable that left his coral lips was difficult to pronounce, but somehow, he managed to choke them out just in time and miraculously in tune with the music that had long faded into the background.

He did this again and again, over and over until he felt ashamed to do so but had to because of what was expected of him. Every time he looked in the mirror and put on that notorious smile of his, it seemed to glare back at him, taunting and jeering at him for everything he had done.

But he wore anyway, day in and day out for the cameras, lips pressed together so tight that no one even noticed when it continually faltered. Every show, he put his miserly heartbreak out on display, mingled with the guilt that had harboured roots in his fragmented soul, pushing themselves into the cracks and splitting it into even smaller pieces.

It didn’t matter. You weren’t around to see it.

You were something of a ghost, keeping to your upper level of the tour bus and avoiding the lower one with every fibre of your shattered being. The faraway look in your eyes seemed to be a new permanent aspect of your personality, along with your perpetual absence from every show and every aspect of the tour.

Instead, you sat alone with your laptop as your only companion, teeth ground together and eyebrows pulled taut as you stared at the blinding white document that lay before you. You would type out a few words and then proceed to press your index finger to the backspace button and erase it all, letter by stingy letter like they had never been put out into the world in the first place. And then you would be left with a blank canvas once again within those metal walls.

You would emerge from your sanctuary occasionally to perhaps grab some food or take a walk to clear your head, and then you would see him from across the room and forget why you were there. His eyes would meet yours and you would simply hold the gaze for a few seconds, empty and then full of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

Then you would look away and life would drag you along like the moment had never existed. For the days that you were forced to be around everyone, you would smile and silently envy the way the band could do it so naturally without even having a second thought about if it looked fake.

Your smile was fake and Taeyong knew it from a single glance. He knew it from the way your eyes stayed dull as the sides of your mouth curved upwards painfully like it killed you to do so.

He knew he had lost you the moment he saw that hollow smile.

He couldn’t bear to speak to you and reap the results of what he had sown, and you couldn’t bear to listen, a spiteful sort of yin and yang situation that was slowly eating away at the both of you. It left him with no choice but to watch as you made yourself scarce, a phantom of his every misgiving that haunted him even when he shut his eyes. You were still there.

Two broken hearts brushing past each other every single day without truly ever making contact, going on with their days with so much to say and nothing at all.

It was a good thing people liked broken things.

But this? This was what showbiz was. It was messy and brutal and most of all, ugly. Under all the makeup touch-ups and glamorous lifestyle and glittering lights, at the end of the day you had to shed all of it off and see it for what it really was:

A godforsaken trap.

And so the last few shows dragged on, the last few days slipped by and suddenly they were walking backstage after their final show. Staff hollered jovially, drinks were being passed around in celebration, but he couldn’t get himself to relax, not when you were standing only a few feet away from him with that forlorn look in your eyes and a pitiful smile plastered on your face. Not when you were so close, not when all he could do was reach out and barely touch you before you disappeared again, slipping away from his grasp once again.

What a cruel time for him to realize he loved you.

Your two suitcases knocked into the back of your legs as you fished out your keys from the carry-on bag that was slung around your shoulders, slotting them into the lock of your apartment door. You twisted the metal things once, twice, until the door gave way and swung open, giving you a view of the place that you had so proudly once called your home.

The familiar homely scent had somewhat faded in the time you had been gone, now mingled with a musty, forgotten type of smell that quickly found settled deep into your skin, leaving you to straighten up your hunched posture and sigh heavily. Turning around, you gripped the handles of your bags, pulled them inside behind you and shut the door as quietly as you could to not wake up anybody. Your flight back to Los Angeles had been an early morning one, and so there you were at five in the morning, standing in your doorway like an idiot.

The last time you had been in LA had been barely a month ago, but this wasn’t where you had slept.

It had been in between the delicate sheets of Taeyong’s bed and arms that held you like you had been everything to him. You almost scoffed at the memory of your naivety, and at how easily you had been swayed by the star-studded lifestyle you had plunged yourself into.

Or perhaps it was just how easily you had fallen in love with someone so utterly elusive.

He was now probably halfway across the world in a private jet while you were right back where you had started. You had watched them leave, before turning around and walking away, away from the lights and tabloids and shy smiles in poorly lit-up tour buses that would forever remain a secret from the rest of the world.

And him.

You dropped your keys on the table as you dragged your suitcases with you, collapsing down on your worn-out couch and sinking into the cushions as the exhaustion of the entire ordeal hit you all at once. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took a minute to gather all your thoughts and pull yourself together.

His face flickered through your mind, causing your throat to close up in on itself as you snapped your eyes open, sucking in an arduous breath through your teeth.

“Y/n.”

You recalled how he called out your name just before they left for their jet, how he sounded almost desperate to get whatever he was about to say off his chest. Even with how tired you were, you recalled every second of the interaction perfectly, down to the way you turned to face him when he said your name so perfectly.

He stopped in his tracks as the others walked a little away from him, nearly wincing at the way your eyes wouldn’t meet his and the hesitancy you displayed. It was too late for you and him, it was too little too late to fix what he had done.

“I lied about us to them,” He never once looked away from you even if you couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t bear to look away if this was going to be the last time he ever saw you.

“But nothing about us was ever a lie.”

His words haunted you with every step further you took from them, on the plane as you tried to forget it and as you picked up your luggage and called a cab. As you climbed the tiresome stairs of your apartment complex and even now as you sat there, you were pathetically thinking about it even though you had tried everything you could to forget.

But Lee Taeyong wasn’t the type of person you could forget easily, not when you could still imagine how it felt when he touched you and the weight of his gaze. The earnest remorse that laced his voice.

You punched in the code to your suitcase lock, unzipped it and pulled your laptop out. The cool metal rested upon your jean-clad legs, the blue light causing you to frown as you opened up your document and began to write, but not out of any sort of inspiration. You wrote out of the anger that had settled deep within your soul and motivated you.

Anger at his audacity to think that it would be alright to make you fall in love with him just to avoid the possibility of his notoriety falling apart. You typed out everything you possibly could about what he had done and how it was all true, every single accusation you could throw at his face and how he truly did sleep his way to the top because for fucks sake, he certainly did it with you, didn’t he?

Then you stopped amidst your hateful frenzy, realising that there was no way you could do that to him. If you did, you were no better than that bastard Jungwoo. You stared at what you had written, reading it twice, three times and swallowing the telltale lump that had formed in your throat. Selecting it all, you glimpsed at the blue highlight and deleted it with a single click because you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

But you were so, so unbelievably angry.

Unconsolable rage consumed every fibre of your being, leaving you with clenched fists and gritted teeth until you accepted what it really was: grief. A broken sob escaped your chapped lips, the wretched sound breaking the silence that had been weighing you down for the past half hour you sat there in your apartment.

You were grieving a love that you still felt so strongly but was never yours to claim in the first place.

And you cried for the first time since the day you confronted him, at last comprehending that your anger was simply the sheer heartbreak you felt in its rawest form, the very proof that you had loved. You broke down in the dead of the night, feeling so implausibly alone in the midst of everything that had happened these past few months.

Before you had even known it, everything you had ever wanted had slipped right through your grasp, leaving you to grieve its loss all by yourself. You weren’t sure when Taeyong had become your every dream rolled into one magnificent wish, but it burned brighter than any wish you had ever had, which was perhaps why it hurt so bad.

How had the ultimate opportunity turned into something that shattered your very soul? Life had a merciless sense of humour because even though you had made the spiteful promise of writing an article that would destroy him, you couldn’t go through with it, because when you loved someone, you could never intentionally hurt them.

You exhaled shakily, staring at the empty document through the heavy thumping of your ruptured heart in your ears and the blur of your tears, blinking them out of your eyes. Then, in the dead silence of the early morning, as the sleeping world stirred to life and began with their monotonous days, you began to write.

And what was it that you wrote?

“What the hell is this?”

You calmly held Johnny’s gaze, a mixture of frantic and fury burning in his eyes as he glared at you. The velveteen cushioning of the seat under you was all too familiar, as were the wooden floors beneath the heels of your shoes, the first time you had stepped into The Link’s building in a long time.

“The article you assigned me,” You responded plainly, spurring any sort of emotion that threatened to make a show on your face. He shut his eyes and visibly sucked in a laboured breath, tapping his fingers impatiently on his desk.

“You’ve made some…..serious claims here,” He started to reason with you, and you could already see where this little colloquy was going to go. Gripping your phone, you took a careful note of the restraint that was displayed in his voice, but refused to back down from your own goal. “Ones that don’t fall under our initial arrangement.”

There were definitely some liberties you had taken with your article, but none of them were things of fallacy. You were well aware that it was the reason the editor was so skittish, although he tried to hide it to the best of his abilities from the way he pulled at his tie to loosen it around his collar ever so slightly and cleared his throat. It was a thing of amusement, to watch him try and figure out how to convey what he wanted to you without giving away what he had done.

You had been through too much to be thwarted by someone who was also in the wrong in the entire situation. You were done being a pawn in their little game.

“There wasn’t any arrangement, you said I had to write an article and I did just that.”

“Y/n.” He said your name defeatedly, “where did you get this information from? It’s so out of the blue.”

And with that, you pressed play on the recording of the call you had with Jungwoo a few months ago, watching carefully as Johnny’s expression shifted from weariness to shock as it played out. When your voice came through, telling Jungwoo you had overheard Renjun speak to the editor, all colour drained from his face.

Pausing the recording, you leaned forward in your seat, a corporate smile playing upon your lips in triumph.

“That’s how I know my claims are true because I have confirmation from one of the people involved in the audio proof. The only dirt around Taeyong’s name is the dirt you planted there.” You said this firmly, trying to ignore the way his name felt heavy on your tongue.

Johnny clenched his jaw. “Look-”

“Publish my article,” You interrupted, more tranquil than you thought you would be when it came to this. There wasn’t a bone in your body that was scared when you put your terms out for him. “Or I will publish it myself and put Junwoo’s and your name on it. If you post it, I will let your less-than-ethical arrangement slide with only Renjun having to face the consequences.”

He clicked his tongue, knowing that he had no choice but to go through with your requests and although he didn’t particularly like it, he couldn’t help but admire the way you went about it. You had gone over and beyond with your journalistic work, cracking the truth behind it all and making sure the odds were in your favour.

You had proven yourself to be a kick-ass journalist, no doubt one of the best of your generation. A grin made a show on his features, respecting you a lot more now that he knew what you were capable of.

“Consider it done.”

You returned his smile with a genuine one of your own this time around and warned faintly, “No major edits.”

He shut his laptop and nodded. “Not one.” Satisfied with his answer and the knowledge of him being far too smart to double-cross you when you had such damning leverage, you stood to your feet and turned to leave his office when he called out.

“And Y/n? Excellent job.”

As you stepped out into the busy corridors of The Link’s building, you felt a sense of warm pride wash over you at what you had managed to accomplish. You let yourself breathe in the cool air-conditioned air that held the slightest tone of coffee in it and held your phone up, knowing that you had one last thing to do, but it was the most important of them all.

You selected the audio recording until the option to share it popped up, clicking on it and swiftly forwarding the call to a certain manager. Then, you slipped the device into the pockets of your coat and walked away, leaving every cumbersome worry that you could behind.

THE TRUE ‘CHERRY ON TOP’.

These past few months, I have had the opportunity to accompany the band Cherry Bomb on the American leg of their ongoing world tour, as I’m sure most of you have been keeping up with.

From the very start, I was thrust into a world far too glamorous for me to ever keep up with, from the shows to the red carpet events and parties. I had never been the type of journalist that involved myself with the happenings of their research, but this was my exception. It was nearly impossibly to not get caught up with it all, especially when everyone around me was so inviting.

People talk about some celebrities being genuine and the nicest people they could ever meet and Cherry Bomb fit this description to the T. All of them are so wonderfully unique and lovely to converse with, dare I say, befriend, that it was only a matter of time before I was comfortable around them. Never once did they ever make me feel like an outsider even though I was very much exactly that.

These men live and breathe their music and are the most passionate people I will ever meet.

I even had the pleasure of viewing one of their concerts and when I saw them up there on that stage, I could understand why they are so successful. Seeing Nakamoto Yuta give it his all behind those drums of his, Lee Mark and Lee Jeno complimenting each other with their parts, Kim Doyoung and his genius playing the keyboard, and finally, Lee Taeyong standing up there with his bass guitar and leading it all- it was a truly magical experience.

Initially, when I first started my research and drafting of this piece, I had convinced myself that I would be writing a little bit on every member, but now that the experience is over, I have decided to take a different route, one that tied into all that I have mentioned above.

It is a known fact that there is a rumour going around about the reason why the band is so popular, one that states that their success is due to the frontman, Lee Taeyong, sleeping his way to the top.

I am writing this article to very firmly counter that statement with the truth because the rumour is crude and very false.

Their crushing success is to only be credited to themselves because they have worked tirelessly for it. I have received a first-hand look at the amount of effort they put into everything they do, and they are the most hard-working people I know. It is not because of Taeyong’s sleeping habits in the slightest.

After some more research, it had come to my attention that these rumours had started because of a single, unassuming catalyst: their very own publicist, Huang Renjun.

The aforementioned publicist was the one to plant the seed of all the rumours, that catalyst if you will, quietly hiding under anonymity to avoid being caught out for his actions. The article that was written about the entire (fake) ordeal was written by a journalist working for the very paper I write for, as I have to admit with much regret.

I am not aware of his motives as to why he decided to go so far as to lie about the very artists he was supposed to protect, but when I say that this is the truth, it is. My aim with this piece is to tell the truth, and the only lie presented within these words is the telling of the one that the publicist told.

The ‘Cherry On Top’ tour is no doubt one of the best they have ever played, each show exceeding the last, and a true testimony to the great musicians they are. Every one of them has given their all and sacrificed a lot to be out there doing what they love, even if it feels like they have been handed their success, they most certainly have not been.

And Lee Taeyong certainly did not sleep his way to the top.

- Y/n L/n, The Link.

Afterparties had been a thing of enjoyment at one point in Taeyong’s life and although that time had not been too long ago at all, it certainly felt like it. He recollected how easy it used to be for him to indulge in such meaningless practices and when he used to think that getting blackout drunk was good fun.

It had been two months.

The concert in Paris was an astounding success and he had only been just a little tipsy while performing. Alcohol and cigarettes had turned into something of a coping mechanism for him, but now as he stood amidst other celebrities he didn’t know and different socialites that somehow managed to get into the party in a bar in The Marais, he felt much too sober. The glass in his hand felt heavy as he gripped it, the edges lightly digging into his skin.

He had never realized how jarring his lifestyle was until this moment, detesting the way it was so superficial. The glitz, the lights, the girls- all the appeal that they once possessed had long faded into the background, leaving him to grit his teeth and pretend to be enjoying himself as he walked several red carpets that he very frankly, did not give a fuck about. For the first time, he felt like a fraud, undeserving of the spotlight that had been bestowed upon him so long ago, attention that he would have to take to his grave.

The change in his demeanour had been picked up by his bandmates, but they didn’t say anything. He suspected that they had an inkling of what had happened that night between you and him, but had decided to give him space.

Space had led to him making several mistakes if the empty glass bottles and occasional stranger in his hotel bed said anything.

But there was only so much one person could handle.

He turned around, pushing through the turbulent crowd until he found himself standing outside the bar, calling one of their cars to take him back to the hotel early, back to the solitude of his temporary room. He knew that his absence would be noted, perhaps even given to the press as a tip-off, but he could care less about it.

Taeyong couldn’t stand the thought of staying there and plastering on his poker face for even a second longer. He had ignored everyone anyway, including the lineup of ruffled girls who had evidently been very upset over not managing to catch his fancy for the night. He knew there would be whispers about his reluctance, the faltering happy expression that he had tried so hard to keep plastered on his lips.

But how could he even pretend to be happy when in every single person, he could see you?

He slipped into the car, leaning back in the seat as he instructed the driver of his destination, glancing out of the windows to view the smoky nightlife of Paris at such a late hour. Everything was much darker than one would imagine, giving the city of love a much more desolate feeling, lonely even. The streetlights flickered uncertainly, casting their yellow light onto the pavements. Taeyong nearly wanted to get out of the car and walk down those pathways, to be able to pretend that there weren’t going to be people trailing him with their flashy cameras for just a few minutes of seclusion that the night provided so mercifully.

He didn’t though, instead waiting until the driver parked the car and politely told him that they had reached. He dragged himself back up to his room until he was met with the room he shared with no one and a minibar that was conveniently right next to his bed.

Love was the type of emotion that was tempestuous and violent, but it never acted alone. For most, it was with adoration and fulfilment, but for him, it was tainted with the guilt he so desperately tried to escape with every emptied glass bottle that sat in the trash. It was at times like these when you would pop into his mind without fail and he was once again reminded of the fact that you weren’t by his side.

And he had no one to blame for that but himself.

But god, he missed you.

He missed your smile and the way you’d try to control your excitement, the look in your eyes when you were passionate about something that contrasted the shyness that would enter your voice, and the way your hands would oh so gently cup his face. He missed the infectious tinkling of your laughter and the dedication you possessed when it came to your job and just you.

He hated what he had become and most of all hated the thought of being someone you couldn’t love or want. The prospect of you never needing him again even though he knew he needed you more than anything.

The brandy in his glass burned his throat as he allowed it to numb every splinter of penitence that swirled in the pits of his stomach, eyes closed as he tried to forget you.

An impossible feat.

A sharp, almost frantic knock on the door of his room snapped him out of his reverie. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he could only frown when he registered the time. 5:00 am. Who could it have been at such an early hour?

He contemplated pretending to be asleep so that the person would hopefully move on, but when another rap on the door came not even a minute later, he relented and walked over to open it. Once he swung it open, he was met with Irene standing there, phone in hand as her ever-vigilant eyes fell upon his slightly dishevelled figure and grew disapproving for a split second. He had forgotten that she tended to be an early riser no matter how late her evenings got.

To his surprise, beginning to speak before he could even attempt to comprehend what was happening. “You actually did it.”

“I- what?”

“The rumours- they’ve dissipated. They hold no merit anymore because you got that article, you son of a bitch.” Her eyes gleamed with pride as she spoke, thrusting her phone in his face resolutely. “It got released yesterday, and I would have seen it sooner but Renjun isn’t around anymore.” She said the publicist's name with a substantial amount of scorn, shaking her hand about in his face so that he would take the phone from her.

Her mention of the article had his heart in his mouth as dumbfoundedness bled into his fatigued features. “Wait, what do you mean Renjun isn’t here?”

“He’s fired,” She said flatly. “Because he’s a rat.”

“I still don’t follow.” He was too tired for her cryptic messages and in no mood to even think about entertaining them. She sighed.

“Renjun was the one who started the rumours, and I would have never known if Y/n had not sent me proof of it and written that article. I would have seen her message sooner but you know how it is with my inbox, always full.” The moment your name left her mouth, Taeyong couldn’t truly focus on the rest of what she was saying, nodding along mindlessly where he thought was the right point. More than anything, he wanted to ask Irene about you, what you had said and maybe, just maybe, if you had asked about him.

“Somehow she found out that it was Renjun who decided to spew bullshit about you,” she gritted out, “but it’s all dealt with, and his entire career in the industry is over. You should read the article by the way, after all, you’re responsible for it. I sent you a link to it.”

She plucked her phone out of his hands and walked away, leaving him to hurriedly fumble with his own. He shut the door and clicked on the link Irene sent him, more so to have even a little part of you for a few minutes than you truly find out what had taken place, eyes scanning over every word you had written until he reached the very end.

And it was then that carefully curated expression of his finally crumbled, and for the first time in a long time, Taeyong let himself cry.

NOVEMBER; ALBUM OF THE YEAR GRAMMY NOMINATIONS:

— Solo; Kim Jennie — Maniac; Haechan — Pop!; Nayeon — Ruby; Lee Jihoon — Cherry On Top; Cherry Bomb

To: [email protected] Subject: NYT interview proposition.

Greetings Miss L/n,

Your recent article about Cherry Bomb has been making waves in the journalism world, and we at the NYT have taken notice.

This email is written in the hopes that you would consider sitting for an interview for our newspaper. After reviewing your past work, we have concluded that we would love to have a journalist like you on board. Your writing style is concise and conveys what it needs to, a quality we appreciate.

It is evident that you strive to put your best foot forward and are not afraid to take risks, something that is considered very rare. For these reasons, we would love to offer you this opportunity. Salary and such will be discussed in person, which is how we would like to hold this interview.

We look forward to receiving a positive response.

Tiffany Young.

Head of HR- New York Times.

[email protected]

It was human tendency to gravitate toward the very things that destroyed them. You supposed that very inclination was the reason you were there on your couch once again, the stem of a half-full wine glass resting between your index and middle finger, the cool mouth of it pressed to your tinted lips. The redness from the drink had stained them, your eyes trained on the television screen in front of you.

There wasn’t a point for you to be viewing the Grammys, but something had pushed you to do so and so there you were as the entire arena where the award show was held was shown. The cool February air jabbed unsolicitedly at the skin of your arms even with your heater on, and you let the sweet fermented drink kiss your throat soothingly to combat the chill.

You knew that they were going to be there.

You could hardly believe that it had been five months since you had seen them and so perhaps this was you satiating the small part of you that missed them.

As you watched the opening performance, you realized that you hadn’t the slightest interest in anything else but the singular award that they had been nominated for. So if that was the case, why were you subjecting yourself to sit through the entire ordeal? You leaned over to pick the television remote up to switch it off and release yourself from this mundane sort of self-affliction.

The camera panned over the five men you were there for a brief moment and instantly you stopped, settling back into your seat. Of course, they would show them within the first few minutes of the show, they had the entire world at their heels.

The entire world waiting in anticipation for the results of the nominations just like you.

The first hour of the show past painfully slowly and yet, you didn’t move, waiting patiently for it to happen. It felt odd, the fact that it was taking place right there in LA and you had to watch through a screen anyway. The fact that they were so close to you, back home and within your reach, felt a little unreal to you.

Kim Mingyu himself walked across the stage, grinning at the road of clapping that followed his every step. You allowed a small simper to make a show at his appearance, recalling the night of the party you had attended with the boys and how it had ended with you and Taeyong out on one of the numerous balconies of his mansion.

“Thank you, thank you!” He waved his hand politely to calm the audience. “I am beyond honoured to be here presenting this award tonight! Now, I’m aware all of you are here for me,” he paused as a light pattering of laughter made its way around the hall, “but I do have a job to do, so without further ado, here are your nominees for this year's Album of the Year!”

He listed out the five nominees, the camera focusing on each of them as he said their names for a few seconds. When it came to Cherry Bomb, you mentally chastised yourself for how quickly your eyes sought out a politely smiling Taeyong sitting with the rest of his mates. This wasn’t their first time attending, they had won the award twice before, the first time for being the best new artist when they had just started, and the second was for this very award.

Needless to say, there was a lot of pressure on them.

You could see glimpses of their nerves shine through their smiles and the way they held their drinks. Then, it went to Nayeon, who had already won one Grammy that evening and had it standing proud on her table, evidently calm because of its presence.

Mingyu smiled right when the cameras returned to him, showing off his perfect, pearly white teeth. He lifted the golden envelope in his hands, “And your winner for the Album of the Year for this year's Grammys is….”

Everyone held their breath, including the nominees themselves. Little shots of them popped up side by side on your television, showing you the way Yuta visibly stiffened in anticipation and how Taeyongs fingers curled around the flute of his glass, eyes trained on the stage and at the announcer, his friend.

Mingyu flipped the top of the envelope open and pulled out the card that held the winner in one swift motion, holding it a little away from him before his eyes lit up. He then bent down a little so that his mouth was once again in line with the microphone, letting the audience stew in their anxiety for just a second longer.

“CHERRY BOMB!”

Cheers erupted as the screen enlargened on them as their smiles grew wide and genuine, a sharp exhale leaving your wine-stained lips. Something like a weight had been lifted off your tired shoulders and you sat up straight, your lips curling up in a relieved and glad smile for them. For the strangers you had grown so close to in so little time.

As for Taeyong, he had barely registered it when he heard the name of the band he had formed when he was just a teenager. He had to stop himself from flinching at the thunderous clapping, eyes blown wide when he finally realized that they had done it. They had won.

Doyoung leaned over to hug Jeno, and then Taeyong as they got to their feet, bashfully smiling in elation at achieving their ultimate goal of the previous year. He took a cautionary sip of the bubbly champagne that sat inside the flute he held and placed it down, straightening out his suit as he led the walk to and up the small stage.

Mingyu handed him the golden gramophone statue, whispering congratulations away from the mic for only them to hear and exchanging hugs, before walking off stage. He turned to face the audience with his best friends right at his side and thousands- millions even- of people clapping for them.

“Wow this…” he trailed off, glancing down at the award in his hands with a nervous simper playing on his face. “Firstly we’d like to thank the recording academy and god- the list is far too long, but wow, thank you to our incredible fans and our manager Irene Bae who always knows what to do. Qian Kun our producer, Alexandra, James and the rest of our amazing team.” He spouted every name he could remember, doing his best to sound grateful because he truly was.

There was just one thing.

“And thank you to one person out there who knows who she is,” He gripped the award better, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly in his throat as his tone quieter, staring right into the camera. “I think about you every day.”

You.

The need to breathe deeply arose all of a sudden, leaving you to suck in a large gulp of air while you wondered if the wine had finally gone to your head. And you knew as he held the award up once again with a gratified expression on his face and shook it slightly, and as he handed it to his members, that he was talking about you.

And he had won, all of them had. Through every hardship and roadblock, they managed to get to the other side in triumph.

The pride that swelled in your chest for him along with the warm pressure behind your eyes told you all you needed to know. As the first cup of wine turned into your third, you were drowning in the realization that you still loved him vicariously with every broken piece of your heart that still belonged to him.

History liked repeating itself.

Once again you stood in your living room with suitcases- suitcase, singular this time around. It was a small one with just enough items to last you an entire week in New York City. There was plenty of time before you had to leave for your flight, one that you had booked well in advance and had given yourself enough time in the city to not throw yourself straight into the interview.

You could have gone three days later and you would have been fine on time, and yet there you were, standing by your couch while clutching the handle of your bag. Your flight was at seven the next morning and it was ten post meridian right now, so to say you were early was an understatement. In truth, you had no idea why you were so cautious about everything you were doing, and neither did you understand why you felt like you had to leave right at this very moment.

But not to the airport. The airport was the last place you were thinking of then. If you left for the airport, you would have been leaving behind unfinished business in your wake.

There was so much to consider if you left, if you did get the job that you had been dreaming of for so long. Bank work, resigning from The Link, ending your apartment lease- and the most important of them all, if you could live with leaving without seeing him again.

“I lied about us to them.”

Regret was a funny thing, it nipped and poked at your insides until you had no choice but to acknowledge its infuriating presence. It made you think things you did not want to, forcing them to the front of your idle mind until you gave up trying to fight.

“But nothing about us was ever a lie.”

His last words to you echoed through the chambers of your mind, eliciting a sigh. You still hadn’t the slightest idea what he had meant by that, or the possible implications it retained. It gave rise to questions that would stay in the forefront of your thoughts without any answers.

And before you knew it, you let go of the suitcase handle and grabbed your keys, slipping out of your apartment and calling a cab. Within minutes you were sitting inside said cab, telling the driver Taeyong’s address before you could talk yourself out of it. It was so impulsive, so completely unlike you that you were a tad concerned, but you wanted answers. The memory of where he lived in the city was burned into your memory, the information finally proving to be useful.

For all you knew, you could have made the right decision that day to walk away and this would all be for nought.

But it could have also been your biggest mistake.

The elevator ride up to his penthouse was when your intrusive thoughts returned with full force. You had miraculously managed to keep them at bay in the cab, but now as you waited in that metallic little box, you couldn’t help but try and dissect why you were here. You could have perhaps slept for a little before your flight, or checked if you had everything you needed for the nth time.

Instead, you were there, walking out into the hallway of the building he stayed at that was almost haunted with the ghosts of your past selves rushing through it the morning after that night, hand in hand with soft giggles and secretive smiles being passed around. A self-inflicted déjà vu, or perhaps not, because history truly did love to repeat itself, cyclical in nature as it went through the motions of a story it already knew so well.

Now all that stood between him and you was a measly wooden door.

What if he wasn’t at home? What if he wasn’t staying there for the night and instead with the boys? What if he wasn’t even in Los Angeles, but rather somewhere else and you had wasted all this time?

You knocked. Then you took a step back and waited.

When you heard the slightest padding of footsteps and the rattle of the door, you knew that there was no turning back. When the door opened, the warmth of his apartment hit you all at once, leaving you to unclench your anxious fists and stare at the person that stood at the doorframe.

“Y/n?”

You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through your body when he said your name ever so softly, his eyes wide but softened at the sight of you as if he could hardly believe you were real. Locking eyes with him, you once again felt the effects of having his gaze upon you, the intenseness of it trained on just you. You didn’t think you would ever understand how he managed to have such an effect on you.

“Can I come in?” Your question came out timidly as you averted your gaze, knowing that if you kept it locked with his you would never be able to finish what you had started. You didn’t see him nod, but felt him move aside and push the door further open for you. When you were inside, he shut the door and turned to you, unsure of what to say.

Nothing had changed inside his place, nor had much about him other than appearances. His hair was darker now, the hint of red you had grown used to missing and replaced with a solid brown that matched the swirl in his eyes.

“You’re here,” Taeyong mumbled almost inaudibly. “Why are you here?”

He hadn’t thought he would ever see you in person ever again, least of all standing in front of him in his house- what had been a home for a few minutes that night- in all your stifled glory.

You looked to the side and out the expansive windows that stretched out from the ceiling to the floors, out at the twinkling city. The last time you had been here, the curtains in the living room had been drawn closed, giving you privacy from the rest of the world's prying eyes.

“I don’t know.” But you did know, what you needed from him was so painfully obvious that you couldn’t even bring yourself to say it. “This was a mistake.”

He studied you, from the ever so slight tremble of your lower lip to your unfocused eyes that wouldn’t look at him. “No, it wasn’t.”

The way he could read you so easily was ridiculous to you, causing you to scoff under your breath as a frustrated smile made its way onto your face.

“I don’t understand you.” And you truly couldn’t because people like him were so evasive and fleeting, always just a little too far out of your reach. He paused, eyes flitting all over your expression as if trying to assess what you meant by that, what you wanted- no, needed- from him. “You say you want me in your life and then proceed to lie about us to everyone else already in it. But you tell me nothing about us was a lie.” You sucked in a shaky breath, going over everything that had happened between the two of you.

“Y/n-”

But now that you had started letting it all out, there was no stopping you.

“And I don’t know what to believe, because I placed all my trust in you and you just- you broke it like it meant nothing.” His heart broke when your voice did, putting himself in your shoes. How confused and hurt you must have been, to think you were nothing but an easy way out of a tricky situation.

“No,” he whispered, contrite, “it meant everything to me.”

You stayed silent, letting the silence blanket the both of you. The faint ticking of the second hand on a clock somewhere in the room made up for it.

“Have you made me a liar, Taeyong?”

The earnestness that laced your voice along with the way you finally, finally looked at him had him instinctively reach out to touch you and hold you and wipe away the pain that he had inflicted on you, but he stopped himself just in time, letting his arm fall limply to his side in vanquish.

“God, no,” He almost exclaimed, shouted even, wanting to do anything he could think of to prove himself to you, to get through to you. “I told you the truth that night, I never lied to you about wanting you Y/n, I never fucking lied about that.”

You remembered that night all too well and shut your eyes once again to counter the telltale warmth of your eyes.

“Even when it all started? When you first kissed me?”

“Even then.” The way he stated it with so much fervour made your thinking come to a halt.

“Then tell me the truth,” you said ultimately, “the full truth.”

That one request was all he needed to divulge everything that had happened, the way the rumours about him were getting to a bad point, how worried Irene was about it and her warning to them. How everyone assumed that everything he was doing with you was for their benefit and nothing else, and how he stupidly- utterly senselessly- went along with it to make things easier. The way that he completely forgot about him having to win you over for a purpose because he genuinely wanted you for just you, and how he regretted every sore decision he made.

And you listened as every question of yours got its answer and locked itself away from your memory, the sincerity in his voice finding you and holding your hands, squeezing them until you could let them go. Half of you wanted to hate him more than anything, to scream and cry and make him hurt the way he hurt you.

But the thing was, you already knew he was hurting. And the other half of you wanted it to stop because loving someone meant shielding them from any sort of hurt.

And you loved him more than you had ever loved anyone or anything.

“Telling them I was with you for a good article was a lie. It was still a lie even if I didn’t mean it.” There was Lee Taeyong, seemingly on top of the world with everyone at his feet, confessing to you what no one else knew. For your eyes only.

“And I’m so sorry for it.”

When you opened your eyes, he was looking at you, his round eyes filled with so much sorrow, so much desperate hope that you would believe him as you did so trustingly all those months ago. All that vulnerability out in the open again for you to peer at and judge, but did you even have the right?

“You really hurt me, you know,” You mumbled slowly, cautionary, wanting him to hear it from you at least once. You needed to say it to him, to get it off your chest.

A single tear trickled down your face, and the moment it did, Taeyong stepped closer, cradling your face between his hands as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I know,” he breathed out, dragging his thumb gently against your cheek and wiping the tear away. “I hate myself for doing that to you, I regret it more than anything. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your fingers found the cloth of the shirt he wore, clutching onto it and leaning into his touch, finding solace in the gentle touch of his hands against your face as he whispered apologies to you, chipping away bit by bit at your resolve.

When the curtains falls, the lights dimmed and stage effects ceased to exist, beneath the glitz and the seemingly perfect lives of celebrities, there were humans. Humans who made mistakes and fucked up sometimes, humans who were judged for those very mistakes even though thousands of people all over the world did the very same things. Now, as Taeyong stood there and held you like he couldn’t bear to ever let you go, and barred his soul for you with every ‘I’m sorry’ that fell from his lips in utmost sincerity, he was the most human you had ever seen him.

And who were you to judge someone just like you? So painfully human and flawed, willing to make up for it?

“You hurt me and I love you anyway. Does that make me an idiot?” You had already forgiven him, speaking against the ghost of his lips, one hand coming up to clutch at his wrist to ground yourself at the moment.

“Fuck, no,” he tilted your head upwards so you were looking right into his eyes as he spoke, leaving you to believe every word he said. “You’re not the idiot, you never were. I was the idiot, baby, I fucked it all up.” That brown of his tickled your forehead and every sense of yours was oblivious to everything but the man in front of you.

“You did,” you nodded faintly, letting out the softest exhale as you blinked the tears out of your eyes, but never dropped them from his. “Guess you’ll have to make it up to me.”

Almost immediately, his lips found yours, kissing you with such reckless abandon that you almost lost your balance and would have fallen if you hadn’t been holding into his hand. One of his arms fell to your torso and looped around it, pulling you closer until it was impossible to do so anymore, securing you in place. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you let every single one of your fears and thoughts melt away like it usually did when you were around him because you knew that this, right there, was exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to.” And he meant it with every fibre of his being, willing to do anything and everything for you.

“I believe you.”

It didn’t matter how many people made up fake news about him or never believed anything he said because you did.

“Then will you stay in my life? By my side again?” He asked you this softly, not wanting to push you into anything. “And- fuck, I can’t promise it’ll be easy, because there will be people prying into your life when they find out about us if there’s going to be an us, and unwanted attention–”

“More running from paparazzi?” You offered with the slightest twitch of your lips.

“Definitely more of that.” He chuckled, tenderly pushing some of your hair out of your face so none of it obscured his view of you, “But there’s no one else I’d rather run from them with.” His eyes searched yours for any semblance of an answer and you dipped your head a little in confirmation.

“I’d run with you for the rest of my life too, Taeyong, and I forgive you,” you choked out with a teary laugh, your previous emotions crashing down on you all at once, melting into a concoction that was completely overridden by your feelings for him. You would face the Huang Renjun’s and Kim Jungwoo’s of the world head-on, hand in hand with the man you loved, inevitably coming out triumphant.

Because you believed him. You really, truly believed him.

“Yeah?” He asked, in disbelief almost, engulfing you entirely in his embrace when you nodded again, whispering the very same word just loud enough for him to hear but soft enough to be mistaken for an echo. He pressed kisses into your hair and you knew that you had made the best decision you could have by coming here, letting yourself relax in his hold.

“For the record, I love you too,” And you didn’t think you had ever heard something so beautiful as him saying those three fated words back to you. After a beat, he continued in teasing, “Isn’t that what you journalists say? For the record?”

You laughed, wiping any stray tears, now of happiness, that had escaped your eyes in the process. “No, you idiot, it’s ‘on the record’ for things that they want to be counted, and ‘off the record’ for things that they don’t want in the report.” His attempt at using journalist lingo was endearing to you, as was the fond grin that rested upon his lips as you corrected him.

“On the record then,” Taeyong said matter-of-factly, “I love you, Y/n L/n.”

You leaned upwards, pressing your lips to his lightly, before pulling back with wide eyes. “Oh god, I have to go!”

“What?!”

“I have a flight in the morning- to New York,” You had momentarily forgotten about that minor fact, attempting to detach yourself from him, a futile gesture he promptly refuted by holding you even tighter.

“New York? Why?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you preemptively smiled in pride.

“An interview for the New York Times.” You patted his arm around you. “I’m flying in early tomorrow morning, my interview is on Monday.”

He frowned, “That’s a week from now. Cancel the flight and stay with me for a bit before you leave me pining after you.”

You knew very well that you had been overthinking it when it came to booking your flight so early and felt flushed at his words. “But-”

“Stay. Please.”

And with that he had you.

“Okay,” you nodded without giving it much thought, knowing where you had to be most at that very point in time. “I’ll leave later.”

Of course, there would be tribulations, you expected no shortage of them, but you knew that as long as you had him by your side to push through the fog and uncertainty, you would be okay. You were up for all of it, from the sleepless nights tainted with the burning taste of whiskey to the mesmerising laughter-filled ones that would no doubt haunt the halls of his apartment. And perhaps now the streets of New York when you would soon step into them.

“I love you.”

Looking up at him now with a soft smile that formed as you said the words, you knew that he had once again given you another dream by giving himself. You brought your hands up to his face and cupped it, memorizing every detail of your most brilliant dream yet so you would never forget it in this lifetime, or any life after this one. As you stood there, fitting so perfectly in his arms, he felt at home at long last, finding joy in the fact that it was because of you and how it would always stay a home with you there.

“On the record.”

fin.

1K notes · View notes

theje0ngs · 2 years

Text

JJH | Forget Me Not

“Have you completely forgotten about me?”

PAIRING/CHARACTERS • bodyguard!jaehyun x rich-girl!reader ft. brother!doyoung, brother!gongmyung, kun & johnny appears

GENRE • angst, romance(?), smut, forbidden love!au, secret love!au

WORD COUNT • 15.7k

WARNINGS • 18+ themes, profanities, brief description of the accident, scenes in the hospital, inaccurate representation of hospital procedures (cuz im no med student bro), issues relating to family, betrayal, mentions murder/assassination, protected sex, fingering, handjob/blowjob, slow sex

GELA SAYS • the LONGEST fic i’ve ever written oh my god ?? my original wc goal is probably 5k but i ended up with THAT number lmao ,, btw ! timestamps are important in this story so this is a heads up because you might get confused hehe and this would probably the last fic i’ll be posting for now, as i’m taking a break from writing again. sorry if this took so long lol this isn’t proofread so i apologize for the mistakes and the rushed ending, i badly wanted to end it right away lol

TAGLIST • @aizzon @queenrachelpink @straykidsftnct @nctevia @dreamycomets @ahgastayzen @rbf-aceu @lookingforangst @yoonohing

HAPPY READING!

“You ready?” Your father asked, receiving a nod from you and a long sigh as you readied yourself to face a large crowd. “Go get ‘em.”

You gave your father a smile, carefully taking steps on the stairs as the emcee introduced you to the crowd. After years of hard work and training for your father, you have finally secured yourself a spot in one of his many companies. Tonight is one of the most important nights of your life as they introduce you as the new CEO of a media company under Haneul Group of Companies. The one that started inside your father’s old room in a university somewhere in Korea has been vastly growing as the years pass by. Your father, Kim Hyong Chul, stood proud as he watched his only daughter walk up the stage and take the podium.

“A pleasant evening to each and every one in this event. I am very thrilled to be here tonight and excited about the things I will be working on in the following years. Tonight, I introduce myself as the new and the youngest CEO of Haneul’s media company to date.” You started; the crowd gave you a round of applause before letting you proceed. “I returned to the country approximately three years ago. A 23-year-old woman who, at the time, opposed the idea of working under her father’s company. I wanted to be different, I wanted people to think of me as someone who started from the bottom, slowly but surely making her way to the top. Which I did succeed in doing, all thanks to my father for agreeing to my idea. Now I stand in front of you, as a 27-year-old woman, no longer a trainee, an employee, but a CEO.”

As you deliver your speech, outside of the venue, stood your boyfriend. He could only hear your muffled voice from the other side of the door. Your voice alone puts a smile on his face, and it was a good thing that he was standing far enough from his colleagues, if not, he would be too obvious. He had a glimpse of you when someone exited the event hall. You looked so gorgeous and stunning wearing that expensive dress that costs a month of his salary. Gorgeous as ever. He thought.

Despite being satisfied with his current relationship with you, there were days that Jaehyun wished he could take you out on a nice date. Hold your hand in public, kiss you whenever he wants to or do typical sweet things that most couples do. But he can’t. He can, but it would be too risky and would cause a huge scandal.

Because he was your bodyguard, and you were his boss.

As the banquet came to an end, your parents were the first ones to exit while you and your brothers stayed for an interview with the business magazines and newspapers. As the press crowded the three of you and flooded you with questions, Jaehyun’s crew tried their best to stop them from causing a stampede, creating a human barrier. When your eyes met his, you smiled at him slightly. This was the closest he got from you tonight, and he fell in love once again.

“Miss Y/N, in your last interview with us three years ago, you’ve mentioned that you have no time for love because you were too occupied with training. Perhaps your perspective has changed now that you are the CEO; do you have any plans of getting into a relationship?” asked one of the presses, causing you to chuckle.

“You guys really love to gossip about my personal life, especially my love life.” You said, tucking your hair and quickly gazed at Jaehyun. “The answer is still the same. Now that I am the CEO, I have to work much harder, and I don’t think I would ever have the time for love.”

Ouch. That actually hurt, but there was nothing that Jaehyun could do. Even though you’ve been hiding your relationship for years now, and he knew your answers are lies to protect the two of you, he couldn’t help but feel a light pang on his chest every time someone asks you about your relationship status.

Once the interview with the press is over, you and your brothers were escorted back to the secured parking space. Doyoung was on his way to the airport for a personal business in Germany, while Gongmyung was on his way back home. You bid farewell to your brothers, planting kisses on their cheeks and entered the car with your bodyguard, aka – your boyfriend.

After a long day of standing in high heels and a long gown, finally, you got to sit next to Jaehyun in your car. The moment you got inside the car; you planted a kiss on his lips before hopping onto the front seat.

“Missed you.” You murmured.

You could feel him smile during the kiss and plant once more, “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear or see you deliver your speech. I’m sure you did great, like you always do.”

Jaehyun started the engine of the car, following your brother’s vehicle before separating on the main road. There was something about driving along the city that was lit up with bright lights and holding Jaehyun’s hand that calms you down instantly. The quiet road and the soft music coming out of the car’s speaker– everything felt right at this moment. You never wanted it to end.

“You do realize that once we reach the village, you’ll have to hop back to the backseat again, right?” He chuckles, taking your hand as he stops at a red light. “We’re a few minutes away from the village, just let me savor this moment.”

“I know… it just sucks that we have to do this every time. I just wish we could do normal things like a couple; I just wish I could go home without having to hop in front and to the back.”

“Don’t worry, any day now. I’ll face your father and come clean about our relationship. Like we always planned.” He said, “Besides, my days as your driver/bodyguard are about to end as your new driver will be arriving any day now and I’m about to pass my resignation letter.”

“That sucks, but I’m looking forward to what our next chapter’s going to be. By the way, if I’m getting a new driver any day now, how am I supposed to receive my kisses?”

“Like we always did before, sneaking.”

You laughed at his response, adjusting your seat as you focused on your boyfriend driving. How did I get so lucky to have you, Jeong Jaehyun? You thought. This man has been with you for three years, three long years. What started off like Tom and Jerry, always arguing, ending with you two being in love. This man has been with you through your ups and downs despite not being able to express your love for each other loudly and freely. This man is the person you want to spend your whole life with, and soon, once you’re both ready to face your parents, you will find a way to tell them and ask for their blessing.

“I love you so much,” Jaehyun said, stopping at a red light once again as he squeezed your hand to reassure you. He knows what’s going on inside your head, by the looks of it, he knew you were thinking about your relationship. “I hope you’ll always remember that.”

“I won’t ever forget how much you love me, and I couldn’t be more thankful for that.” You replied, “I love you too, Jeong Jaehyun.”

He lifts your hands together and plants a kiss on the back before he steps on the accelerator. No matter how calm downtown is at midnight, you didn’t expect what happened next. Jaehyun’s eyes widened when he saw a car emerging from his left side, probably going over a hundred with beaming lights. Quickly, he stepped on the brakes. Jaehyun’s hand did not let go of yours, and because it was all happening so fast, he could only close his eyes and prepare himself for the worst. The next thing you know, you were feeling your skin rip from the broken windows and another pain from the exploded airbags that hit your body.

“J-Jae,” You weakly called, trying to move your hand in his. “Babe, are you okay?”

“I love you, Y/N…” You heard him say. You tried moving the deflating airbags away from you but failed as you feel an intense pain take over your body.

FOUR YEARS AGO.

They say that you fall in love with three people in your lifetime.

You could still remember the boy you fell in love with when you were young. Your younger self sees him as someone you know you will spend your whole life with. You met your puppy love when you were ten and his name was Qian Kun – your brother’s classmate, friend, and a son of your father’s business partner. He was a year older than you and always made sure to protect you like your brothers. By the time you were fifteen, you confessed your attraction towards him. You confessed that you appreciate the things he did for you, they were the bare minimum, but hell, you appreciate it more than anyone else in the world. At first it was a secret that you tried so hard to hide, but the banquets that his and your family held every other month was Doyoung and Gongmyung’s clue to their quest of investigating your relationship with Kun. Although it was weird for your brother that you were dating his closest friend, Doyoung made sure that you were safe with Kun and that his intentions were pure and genuine and no plans of hurting you.

Dating Kun when you were young felt like you were a Disney princess, and he was your prince charming. He would treat you oh so dearly. Fights and arguments rarely occurred in the span of your relationship. During the banquets and gatherings you’ve attended, most of the people who knew your relationship were certain that the two of you will eventually get married someday.

But soon enough, you realized, life is no fairytale like how they described it in movies.

“Hey, any news about the college applications?” You asked, taking a seat on the sofa next to his study table as you munch on a bowl of popcorn.

“Actually, I have something to tell you…”

“Okay…? You’re making me nervous, what is it?”

You remembered Kun holding your hand that night as he explained why he had to move out of the country for a few years and come back once he’s settled in his father’s business. You remembered staring in his eyes, hoping to find an answer to stop him from leaving you. You remembered suggesting that the two of you should try long distance, but his response was: “You deserve better, more than seeing me on screen.”

By the time Kun left for China, you knew it was the end of your relationship. Kun was your first love, your first heartbreak, your first in everything. And even though you are broken up now, no one can break the bond you’ve established when you were young. Kun was still there for you, just like how you were still there for him. The two of you still have each other’s backs, not as someone who has romantic feelings, but as someone who once loved each other and wants what’s best for each other.

You never dated anyone after Kun, you prioritized the important things in life such as university. That leads you to the second person you fell in love with, the person who completely turned your world upside down. His existence in your life was unexpected, someone, including him, could not believe that he exists in your life. Your relationship brought the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. And you met him when you were twenty-three.

At a young age, you returned home in the spring. Flowers were blooming and everything was bright and lovely. A lot has happened since another year was added to your life. Completed a degree with Media Arts, traveled the world alone, met new friends and now you’re returning home after your quick break to celebrate your graduation and the new beginnings. You knew what will greet you once you get home, after all, you were the one who planned and pitched the idea to your father. At the age of 23, you knew that returning back to your family would bring you such a huge change in life.

As your plane arrived from Italy, and you had exited the arrivals area, you saw your brothers holding a signboard with your name on it. It’s been a while since they last saw you when they visited you in Europe to attend your graduation. The two were bickering as the other tells to hold the signage higher, while the other insists that it is already visible from afar. The moment you met them, Gongmyung and Doyoung welcomed you back with open arms. Surrounded by four bodyguards, three of which you were familiar with, you exited the premises of the airport and headed off to the hotel where your relatives are waiting for your arrival. The three bodyguards you knew since you were in high school, but the other one was new, it seems.

His name was Jeong Jaehyun as introduced by the chief, your new personal bodyguard.

When you were young, you did not understand the concept of needing one when you are doing fine alone. Until you learned that coming from a very influential family, your grandfather connected with politics and your father building his own business empire, you had learned that not everyone around you has pure intentions. And as your own grandmother would say: “Trust no one – be it your friends, your lover, your security, maybe even family” after your grandfather was assassinated while playing golf with other politicians.

You found Jaehyun annoying in his first week working for you. Every step, every move, he was there to watch. Dedicated to his work of guarding you as if you were Mona Lisa and someone’s attempting to abduct you. It felt like someone was babysitting you. Sometimes you’d wish you didn’t come from a family like this at all, you were exposed to the dirty politics and business world. There was a random day in your life that you confessed this matter to your grandmother but ended up receiving a long lecture of how ungrateful you sounded.

“Jaemin, would it be okay to stop by a friend’s house for a few minutes before heading off to the headquarters?”

“Uh, I suppose that it is okay–”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am.” Jaehyun cut off the driver next to him, “Your father is expecting your arrival by 13:00.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Don’t you think I’m not aware of my own schedule? I will be quick; I just have to drop these off at her house.”

“No ma’am.”

“Jaemin, don’t listen to him. Head to Seongbuk-dong, please.”

“That’s out of our way, ma’am.” Jaehyun, once again interrupts.

What felt like the nth time today, you rolled your eyes. “It’ll be quick. I don’t even have to enter her house because I’m only giving her this stupid box– now, Jaemin, listen to me and don’t listen to this jerk.”

Jaemin had no choice but to nod his head and turn right on the next street. After years of staying abroad with pure freedom and without a bodyguard nor a driver, you have forgotten what it’s like to have one again. Though you didn’t have any problems nor encountered one with your previous bodyguard, Jaehyun was different from them and makes you want to rip your hair off out of frustration every time you bicker. You grab your phone out of your bag and informed your brothers that you will be running late for a few minutes to the meeting. You knew your father too well; he wouldn’t get mad if you came in late. Or if he does, it wouldn’t be too long – he cannot stay mad at his unica hija for so long.

By the time you have arrived in front of your friend, Eunha’s house, Jaehyun opened the door for you. Reminding you to be quick as you were in a rush and only have a few minutes before the meeting with your father starts. Your childhood best friend was glad to have you back home after you apologized for taking a few weeks to visit her. As you and Eunha exchange stories, Jaehyun was tapping his feet and kept on checking his wristwatch. Eunha noticed the behavior of your bodyguard and shook her head.

“Your bodyguard has a bit of an attitude, Y/N.” She said, causing you to sigh heavily.

“Yeah, it’s only been a few weeks since he started working for me and he’s getting on my nerves already.” You replied, “I have to go now, Eunha. Father’s waiting for me, let’s catch up again soon with the others.”

You bid her goodbye and walked back to the car with your arms crossed, Jaehyun already had the door open and was waiting for you to hop on, but you refused. “Have you ever had someone tell you that you’re a bit rude?”

“Ma’am, please enter the car.”

“I won’t until you answer me.”

“Yes, I have been told that I am rude several times. Please enter the car, the chief is already looking for us.”

By the time you have arrived at the headquarters, you were just in time. Your father wasn’t even inside the conference room yet. You sat next to your eldest brother, sighing as you scroll through your phone.

“Why the long face?” Gongmyung asked, pushing a glass of juice in front of you. “Something happened?”

“I hate my bodyguard.” You groaned, “He’s rude and somewhat obnoxious. I want to change bodyguards.”

“Y/N, he’s not rude. He acts like that because he used to be part of the president’s security service, he was my bodyguard before you came home. Trust me, he’s a really nice guy to talk to. He just seems rude, but that’s just him doing his job.” Your brother explains nicely, no matter how angry you are, Gongmyung was always there to calm you down in situations like this. “Give it a few more weeks, then if it’s like that ‘till then, I’ll tell father and we’ll switch bodyguards.”

“Fine.”

As the months passed by and your workload for your father’s company arose, the more you found yourself getting annoyed and often short-tempered when it comes to Jaehyun and his attitude. It was petty actually, sometimes you even think that it’s childish that you were acting like that. All because of the stress you’re receiving at work. You and Jaehyun were like Tom and Jerry – always fighting and bickering at each other. You even think that maybe your driver, Jaemin, is annoyed by the fact that the two of you are always on each other’s nerves every morning and every night. Gongmyung’s promise of how he was willing to exchange bodyguards with you was not kept after your father rejected the proposed idea.

By this time, the green leaves of trees have turned to hues of red and orange, with a little mixture of yellow. Your favorite season has come – Autumn. There was something about autumn that you’ve loved since you were a kid. The unique color of leaves, the mellow feeling every time you step outside, something about autumn brings nostalgic memories from the past.

Along with the changes of leaves, comes the changes you’re experiencing at work. You love your father, you really do, but ever since you were a child, he was always pressuring you into something you don’t want or want to take slowly. Like the time you were having a hard time memorizing the multiplication table; you were up all night with him as he tried to help you memorize it in one sitting. You didn’t know the reason why he always did that, you never found out even if you ask your mom or his mom. You assumed that it is because he was also pressured by his own father as well – a classic story in the Kim family.

Your grandfather was a known politician, known for his service and excellence in the government. Your father was supposed to follow the footsteps of his father: study hard, be a politician and serve the people of the country. Except he didn’t. Because he thought it wasn’t what he wanted, he knew he wouldn’t be happy with that field of career, knowing how dirty and dangerous politics can be.

But now that you’re feeling tired and pressured with work, you want to rest. Even just for a while, even just for a day. Just a day where you could spend it in peace without having to hear your father complain about how poorly or how messy your reports were or hear him say ‘you’re training to become a CEO and not a regular employee. Get your shit together.’

Autumn can be gloomy, just like how you woke up today. It was 6 o’ clock and you had no work schedules today. It was unusual for you to wake up this early on a day off because usually you sleep in the night after a long day, trying to regain all the energy you’ve lost after working for five straight days. As gloomy as it can be, you stood up from your bed and thought of coming to the place you’ve loved the most. The place where the four seasons of Korea can be seen beautifully.

“You’re up early.” Your mom says, peeking her head on the door as you brush your hair. “I heard the music, isn’t it your day-off?”

“Yes, but I’m heading out.” You replied.

“Where are you off to? Maybe I can come and spend the day with you.”

“Maybe next time mom, I’d really like to be alone for a while. I just want to gather my thoughts and have a little ‘me’ time.”

Your mother nods her head, understanding and realizing how much you’ve grown. From the clingy 5-year-old girl who’s always calling her mother to the 23-year-old woman in need for an alone time. Once she exited your bedroom, you called Jaehyun and informed him that you were heading out today. No day-offs for bodyguards indeed.

“I will be driving today, Miss Y/N. Jaemin is on leave.” Jaehyun informed you, opening the door and waited for you to hop in before he did. “Where are you headed to?”

“Gapyeong.”

“Do you have any business in Gapyeong, ma’am?”

“I just- just please drive me there. No questions asked.”

After an hour or so of travel, you found yourself in the dock of Nami Island, waiting for the first ferry to arrive. Since you left Seoul early, the place was not that crowded yet. You could feel butterflies inside your stomach because it brings back so many memories of your youth. And because Jaehyun needed to be close to you all the time, you had no choice but to let him take a stroll with you on the island. He was puzzled as to why you were here, he assumed that you were meeting someone for business but now that he’s watching you just walk around and breathe in the autumn air, it made him think that you were here to calm yourself.

He may not know the feeling of how hard it is to live in a family like yours, but he could see how tiring it could be. And even though you’ve been labeled like Tom and Jerry, though his existence alone annoys the spirit in you, Jaehyun knows how hardworking you are. He admired the extreme effort you exert on your job.

Jaehyun was walking a few steps behind you. There were only a few people in the island as it was a weekday and it wasn’t peak hours yet, you and he were one of the few people walking on the Gingko Tree Lane. The scenic path filled with bright yellow leaves never fails to make you smile. You turned around and gestured to Jaehyun to come closer to you.

“Would you do me a favor?” You asked, and he nodded. “I know we’re always bickering, but let’s forget all of that today. Let’s drop formalities for a day. Today.”

“Ma’am, I-”

“Let’s pretend we’re friends or whatever. I just… I just really want to feel like a normal person again, like what I was when I was studying abroad. Someone who doesn’t have someone who follows her around or drives her around, watching her every move.”

It was a simple request, but it was something he wasn’t expecting. So simple yet so sad. Nevertheless, he had no choice. He nodded his head, removing the earpiece and turned it off, causing it to disconnect to the main service connection. Though it is kind of awkward walking around the island wearing a tuxedo, he brushed it off. After two years of working in a security group, this is the first time that he was asked by his boss to act like they’re friends. It was so unusual.

“Now that we’re ‘friends’, why don’t we get to know each other?”

Why is she acting like this? He thought, averting his attention to the yellow leaves instead and started walking with you.

“There’s nothing interesting in my life, ma’am- uh… Y/N.”

“I heard you were part of the presidential security service before you started working for us. That’s interesting enough, what’s that like?”

Jaehyun sighs, remembering the main reason of how he got into this line of work. “My father is a retired special forces colonel. After his retirement when I was 20, he became part of the presidential security service after he was recruited by an old colleague- which I also became part of a year ago, after I graduated. It’s a much harder job than this one because we had to keep an eye on everyone in the Blue House, the president, his family– everyone.”

As the two of you walk along the lane filled with yellow leaves, your conversation deepens. Who would’ve thought that the person you were always bickering to would be the person you’re opening up your problems to? From childhood to the days of your high school life, you and Jaehyun continued to talk. At some point, you were eating dosirak with him and laughing at old memories and sharing inside jokes to each other.

“Question, do you really come here whenever you have a hard time?” Jaehyun asked, shoving a spoonful of kimchi fried rice to his mouth.

“Mhm, because this is where my first love brought me.”

“You have a first love?!”

“Of course, dummy! He’s Doyoung’s friend actually and we dated for three years.” You chuckled, “Ah, damn it… he’s actually getting married in a few months and coming here just brought a lot of memories.”

“But you’re over him, right?”

“Of course, I am! It’s been years, we’re both moved on and we’re really good friends now.” You replied, “What about you? What’s your love life like?”

Jaehyun’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and immediately shakes his head, “I don’t have a girlfriend, but I did have one before that only lasted for a year. I never dated again after that.”

“Really? Why?”

You really wouldn’t deny it, Jaehyun is indeed handsome and with that kind of face, he could get any girls he wanted. You were just surprised to find out that he hasn’t dated anyone since his first and last breakup.

“Just… just life and its stuff. I just don’t think I’m built for relationships. I never even had my first kiss yet!”

“You– WHAT?! Are you serious?” Jaehyun nodded his head, “That’s impossible! A handsome guy like you does not have their first kiss yet?”

He was taken aback by your words and his ears have turned right red. You giggled, “That’s actually cute, Jaehyun.”

“Is it? I actually find it a bit weird that I haven’t had one at this age.” He confessed, scratching his neck, “What about you? Ever had your first kiss?”

“Well, yeah. Kun and I were together for three years and we were each other’s first kiss.”

“That’s nice…”

“You grew up in a military family, correct?” You asked, he nodded. “And you know the military secrecy.”

After eating brunch, the two of you continued to walk around the small island again. Going through the famous spots and talking about your personal lives. It was your little talk with Jaehyun that you found out that it was only him and his older sister, who conquered the world together after their mother died, and his father abandoned his responsibilities as a father. That results in the two siblings working hard for everything that they needed. Your heart sank at the thought that Jaehyun had to work hard to get what he needed and wanted, the thought that he and his sister sacrificed everything to make a living. His sister was 23 and got a job as a barista, while Jaehyun enlisted as a military man the moment he turned 20. He was earning so little, yet it helped him and his sister to survive.

“What you see, what you hear, when you leave, leave it here.” He answered confidently, dimples popping out as he smiled.

“What happens in Nami Island, stays in Nami Island.” You said before tiptoeing and pressed your lips on his. It was only 5-seconds, but it felt too long for Jaehyun. “Let’s go, I’m meeting my friends for coffee. I’ll just go to the restroom first.”

What you see, what you hear, when you leave… leave it here. How will he leave what happened here when you just stole his first kiss?

“Oh god, what did I do…” You tell yourself the moment you shut the restroom door. “Why did I do that?”

PRESENT DAY.

It’s been a dreadful week since the accident. Jaehyun was still recovering from it and unfortunately, still in coma. You weren’t the religious type of person, but every night you’d pray to a deity– for his speedy recovery. As of now, you were back at your house. You had a few stitches on your forehead and a broken arm, you even went back to work for a few days after you got discharged despite your father saying that he was willing to let you rest for at least a month. And today, after work, you had informed your driver to head straight to the hospital and not home.

There was no one to update you about Jaehyun’s current situation. As far as you know, he was staying in a private room after spending a few days in the ICU. His parents would visit him whenever they can, but due to personal reasons, are not able to stay through the night as they both work. Heading to the hospital was not part of your plan this evening, yet something was telling you that you must. Your intuition was pushing you to visit your boyfriend.

And your intuition was right. Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t know who’s responsible for all of this mess and accident.

The moment you arrived, you were shocked to see that the door of your boyfriend’s room was open, and a few bodyguards were outside by the waiting area a few meters away. It wasn’t a huge room, a bed and a bathroom fit in the small space so you could hear and see what’s going on inside. You were about to enter but you stopped your tracks when you heard a familiar voice.

“The doctor said he hasn’t awakened yet, no records of him waking up this week. But he seems okay, and his vital signs are normal.” Your mother says, “Hyeongcheol, this is bad. What if the media finds out about this? Worst case, what if your daughter finds out you’re responsible for their accident?”

“She wouldn’t find out because we’ll make it seem like it really was an accident.” Your father answered, “Y/N wouldn’t find out. I’m good at hiding secrets like her– she hid her relationship with her bodyguard? I’ll hide every single information about this from her.”

“You’ve gone too far, Hyeongcheol. I cannot believe I’m married to a person like you. Jaehyun is a person, even if he’s just a bodyguard who, take note of this, your daughter loves so much. Why does it bother you so much to the point where you almost got the two of them killed?”

“Nayeon, I’ve worked so hard to be the best. To be the richest person in this country. To give you the life the four of you deserve. I’m not letting one scandal about my daughter dating a bodyguard ruin that, we both know that this man is not capable of being in a relationship with Y/N. She deserves better.”

“And Y/N deserves a better father, a supportive, selfless and loving father.” She sternly said, “All this because you’re concerned about your image, our family’s image. And you know what? If someone finds out about all of this, that is a much bigger problem that people will talk about– not because our daughter is dating her own bodyguard, but because of this inhumane act you did. If ever the press finds out about this whole Y/N and Jaehyun scandal you formed in your head, it will die down in a few days, weeks possibly. But this whole accident? It won’t, it will stick with you and your name forever.”

Your heart broke. You didn’t know what to do or where to go. You were frozen on the spot. As much as you try not to believe it, the person behind the accident was your father. He planned it all along, all of this while me and Jaehyun were planning to tell him. You thought, holding the straps of your bag tightly. You could hear your mother’s heels click as she walked through the door, how will you face them after finding out the truth?

Your mother puts her hand on her chest and emits a loud gasp the moment the door spits her out, seeing you standing by the door with an unexplainable look on your face. A mixture of anger, disappointment, fear, and broken heart. All those four combined as one.

“How long have been standing there?”

“Long enough to hear father confess the crime he committed.”

She had pulled you inside the room, closing the door behind her. It is this moment that you realized your grandmother was right– she was right all along. Trust no one – be it your friends, your lover, or even your security, maybe even family. That continued to chant inside your head, trust no one. Trust no one but thyself. Because even the closest ones you have, like your own father, will betray you.

“Here’s your worst-case scenario, Hyeongcheol.”

“Y/N…”

“You did it dad?” You ask, trying to keep your composure even though you could feel your blood boil and tears threaten to fall. “You– you did something to that car that led me and Jaehyun to this accident?”

“I didn’t do it for yo–”

“Did you do it dad, yes or no?”

Your voice was filled with anger. It was the first time your mom has ever seen you so angry, it felt like you were a different person and not her precious girl who loved her parents dearly. But who would love their parents after finding out the truth? When she noticed your fists balled up, she tried to pull you away, trying her best to calm you down by saying words such as he didn’t do it or don’t hurt your father and many more words that you deafened to listen to. It wasn’t much of a help to you, it made your anger even worse, like throwing a gallon of gasoline to a wildfire. Rage filled your eyes, and you were ready to fight your own father.

“Answer me!” You yelled, “A simple yes or no, dad! Did you do it or not?! Because I hope the fuck not, I hope I was only hearing things!”

“…I did it out of love, I did it for you– for our family.”

Out of love.

For our family.

Out of love.

For our family.

Fuck. Fuck this family. Fuck this system. Fuck the selfish, narcissistic, rich people like your father. Your knees felt jelly as that stupid, fucked up sentence continues to ring inside your head. You were all out of words, like every single word does not exist anymore. You wanted to run away, but you can’t. You didn’t want to leave Jaehyun here, you didn’t want to go home.

Over the past few weeks since the accident occurred, you’ve been blaming yourself. You were thinking that maybe you were the reason why the two of you got into it. Maybe you were a distraction while he was driving. You’ve been blaming yourself thinking you were responsible for everything that happened, but that person was your own father.

“Leave.” You say, “Leave dad, mom. I can’t be in the same room as the two of you.”

Doyoung: I heard about what happened.

Doyoung: Are you coming home?

Doyoung: Gongmyung and I are worried sick. Where are you?

Gongmyung: Y/N, please return our calls.

Gongmyung: You weren’t at the hospital nor your office.

Gongmyung: Even your bodyguard doesn’t know where you are. Your location is not shared, and we cannot track you at all.

You locked your phone, turned on the do not disturb mode and shoved it back to your bag after seeing the notifications you’ve received from your brothers. A day has passed since you found out about the accident, you didn’t come home– no, you couldn’t come home knowing what your father has done. You couldn’t stay at the hospital for so long either, feeling really guilty about what happened and seeing Jaehyun weak and in pain hurts you.

After resting (more like crying your eyes out) inside the motel you checked in, you found yourself walking along the same path you and Jaehyun took years ago, where you first got to know him better. Exactly like four years ago, autumn is gloomy. Autumn is painful. You sat on a wooden chair facing the water that surrounded the whole island, letting the view cloud your mind with thoughts.

What if you weren’t from an influential family, would you be able to date whoever you wanted without being judged by most of the people who knew you?

What if you and Jaehyun live life like a normal person, what would be the thing that you would love doing together as a couple?

What if you left the venue earlier and did not receive any interviews?

What if…

What if Jaehyun never wakes up?

You felt a tear escape from your eye, and you let out a scoff. Your dreams are really simple, aren’t they? You dream of living a simple life, as a simple person, from a simple family.

“I knew we’d find you here.”

You turn around and see your two brothers, Gongmyung was holding a coat which he immediately placed on your shoulder and Doyoung was holding a duffel bag, which you assumed had clothes inside. The two sat next to you, sandwiching you between them. And that made it worse– your tears wouldn’t stop from falling.

“We know you wanted space, but we want you to know that we’re here for you.” Doyoung said, taking your hand in his. “What father did was unforgivable. We understand where your anger is coming from, Y/N.”

“We won’t force you to come back home with us, don’t worry. We’re just here to comfort you.” Gongmyung added, “Take all the time you need to heal. Cry it all out.”

And you did. You cried to the two of them until there were no more tears left to cry.

WINTER, FOUR YEARS AGO, TWO MONTHS AFTER THE TRIP TO NAMI ISLAND.

It was the weekend, the first time in months that the three of you were home. You emerged from your bedroom to the formal dining room where your brothers were peacefully having breakfast.

“Has anyone seen Jaehyun?”

Your question almost choked Doyoung from drinking his hot coffee. You cocked an eyebrow, what was wrong with your question? You were just looking for your bodyguard because you’ve noticed that he’s been gone for a while and that your driver, Jaemin, has been double working. As your driver and your bodyguard.

“Why?” Doyoung asked, putting down his cup of joe. “You never take interest in your bodyguard.”

“Well, he’s been gone for a week, maybe even two weeks now. Just wanted to make sure he’s not dead or something.”

The eldest flips his newspaper, “Jaehyun’s out of town with his family.” Answered Gongmyung, receiving confused reactions from the two of you. “Don’t give me those looks, I’m closer to him than you two are because he was once my bodyguard.”

Satisfied, you sat next to Doyoung and poured yourself a cup of coffee. “Well, that’s great, I’m attending a friend’s birthday party tonight and it’s great that he isn’t here to prevent me from getting drunk with my friends.”

“Your dreams are so simple, Y/N.” Doyoung teased, and you rolled your eyes in return.

“I know, right?”

That night, while getting ready, you made sure to tell Jaemin not to wait for you. You told him to just drop you off at the club and will contact him again or any of the drivers if you need assistance to go home. After that you prepared yourself, you wore your favorite mini-dress from Balmain, paired with platform pumps from Versace in the same color. Your outfit reveals a lot of skin, which you knew your brothers would either make you change your clothes or convince you to bring something that would help you cover up just in case.

When you arrived at the club, the guards outside immediately recognized you. They opened the doors of the establishment, causing a few groans and possibly profanities from the people in line. What could you do anyway? This was owned by one of your friends from high school (the one that Doyoung has warned you about), and you were considered a VIP. It was really loud– considering that you were walking down the stairs, a bit far from the main club, the blasting music and colorful lights flashing, mixed with the loud cheers of young people partying and having the best time of their lives. You missed this: partying. Your parents may sleep through the night knowing that their daughter was inside her apartment, either studying or sleeping abroad, but every weekend, you and your college friends party as if the world was ending the following day. You loved partying and dancing; you can’t even count the number of boys you’ve made out with before.

When you spot your group of friends, they cheered loudly and poured you a shot of vodka right away. Starting a bit strong tonight, you thought, taking another before hissing due to the taste of the alcohol.

One drink led to another, and it was obvious that you were fueled up by the alcohol. You noticed some of your friends were doing body shots, some were passed out on the couch while you found yourself on the dance floor. Swaying your hips and arms raised as you danced to the rhythm. You knew you had enough alcohol when you started making out with a random guy on the side of the dance floor. His lips were soft, but not as soft as that person’s lips you kissed out of nowhere in your favorite place. His lips tasted like alcohol and cigarettes combined, not like the cherry flavored lips of Jaehyun.

Why couldn’t you stop thinking about Jaehyun lately? Why was he coming to your dreams and thoughts? Why is he in your mind when, right now, you’re making out with a total stranger? It’s no longer the alcohol in your system that’s thinking about him, maybe it was your mind– possibly your heart. This is dumb, you thought. You hated Jaehyun, right? But why are you feeling confused about how you feel towards him?

You pull away from the person you were making out with, he was hesitant to let you go at first, keeping his hands on your waist to keep you close to him. You tried pushing his hands off, badly needing to go to the restroom.

“Come on, don’t go now! We’re having fun!” He said, trying to keep you closer to him.

Blech. This was when he finally let you go. When he felt your vomit come contact with his skin and on his white button-up shirt. “You– ah fuck, can’t say anything bad about you because you’re a Kim.” The boy said, stepping back and tried to remove himself from the scene. You could only give him a smug smile and wipe your lips.

You remember walking back to the booth and tried calling someone but ended up blacking out before they could even answer.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N…” Your father sighs, shaking his head in disbelief when he saw you lying on the couch in the living room at 6:00 in the morning. “Please cook some hot soup and prepare some ibuprofen, as well as a hot bath for her.”

The maids nod their heads before heading off to the kitchen and to your bathroom. Your mother who just woke up, was confused as to why the servants were in a rush so early in the morning, walks to the living room only to find her youngest blacked out and the three men of the family are still in their pajamas, standing across the couch and staring at your sleeping figure. You were covered with a jacket and your head was hanging off the couch, your heels and personal belongings were tossed somewhere in the room.

“Who brought her home?” She asked, sitting down on the couch and gently swooped your head before placing it down on her lap. She started running her fingers on your hair, tangled as you tossed and turned on this uncomfortable sofa earlier.

“Jaehyun did.” Answered the eldest, “I’m curious, are we going to ground her for coming home drunk and passed out?”

“She’s an adult, we can’t ground her.” Argued the middle child. “Right, dad?”

“I don’t know, this is the first time I’ve seen her so drunk. Was she like this when she was still in university?”

“You can’t ground her, Hyeongcheol. She’s an adult who’s living her life, let’s just tell her to drink responsibly next time so she won’t end up going home passed out again.” Your mother says, ending the three men’s discussion. Just in time, the maid informs them that the hot bath is ready.

Your parents have tried almost everything to wake you up, but only one was effective. Doyoung pointed his phone’s speaker to your ear and played an audio compilation of sirens on YouTube with the volume set to the highest, causing you to jolt up and with a throbbing headache. You would’ve gone feral if it weren’t for your hangover. You sure missed partying, but not the hangover the following day.

“How did I get here?” You asked, sitting up straight but your head felt heavy. “Oh heavens, I’m never drinking again.”

“Jaehyun brought you home.”

“I thought he was out with his family– fucking hell, Doyoung, can you turn that shit off?!”

“Y/N, language!”

You apologized to your mother, pointing out that Doyoung’s siren noises were making your hangover worse than it already was. How did Jaehyun get into the club? You were sure you were just thinking about him before you vomited on that dude you were making out with last night. What is he, some sort of a knight and shining armor? You thought, bringing your hands to your head as you felt another pain.

“I’m sorry, mom and dad.”

“It’s alright,” Your dad said, “Go ahead and freshen up. I’m letting you take this day off for you to rest. Take a bath and join us for breakfast, you’re reeking alcohol.”

If your dad made you go to work today, a hundred percent, you wouldn’t be able to focus and end up sleeping in your cubicle for the rest of the day. Speaking of work, has Jaehyun returned from his leave? That was something that has been in your mind as you bathe in the hot water. That thought stayed inside your mind until you fell asleep during the day.

A brand-new day, after spending yesterday in bed with a really bad hangover, you were ready to go back to work again. There were tons of scheduled meetings with your father today, some with the investors, some with the same old people who work for the company– there were too many to mention. You left the house at exactly 7 a.m., shocked to see Jaehyun back at work with the same stoic face of his whenever he greets you outside of your house.

As you rode the elevator of your father’s building, you could feel the awkward atmosphere inside the lift. It was less awkward when you were in the car as Jaemin was there, but it was more awkward when you realized that the only people riding the lift are the two of you.

“Thanks.” You said, after mustering the courage to break the silence. “I don’t know how you got there and how you brought me home, but thanks for bring me back safely.”

“It’s my job, you don’t have to thank me for it.”

Jaehyun was standing in front of you, his back was facing you so you couldn’t see his reaction, but you were certain that he had kept his straight face.

“So… how did–”

“You called me and confessed something through voice message.” He said bluntly.

I did what? Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought of what happened that night. You were sure you remember making out and vomiting on someone, but definitely not confessing to Jaehyun!

“I did what?”

“It’s hard to say, Ms. Y/N… let’s just pretend it didn’t happen nor did I say that.” He sighs, waiting for the elevator doors to open and exited, waiting for you to exit as well.

You were about to say something, but a woman dressed in a corporate attire greets you the moment you step out of the elevator. “Good morning, Ms. Y/N! I am Gyeoul, your new assistant and your father asked me to show you to your new office. It’s located at the west wing of the building, three floors below your father’s office which is located at the east wing. All of your stuff has been taken from the cubicle you were using and moved here.”

You couldn’t help but try to recall the events of that night as you follow the woman to your new office while Jaehyun walks behind you. My phone. You thought, fishing out the device out of your bag. You realized that you haven’t had a chance to open this up yesterday because of your hangover and you watched Netflix through the TV. You were no longer paying attention to Gyeoul who was informing you things about your office, that’s the last thing you could think of. Goosebumps occur to your body as you open the messages you shared with Jaehyun, seeing a few audio messages and are all marked as read.

“Oh my god,”

“Yes, Ms. Y/N? Is there something wrong with the location of your office or the interior design?”

“N-no! I mean, oh my god! It’s beautiful and the view is so pretty. I love it.” You said, changing the tone in your voice and shoved your phone into your pocket.

She smiles in return, “I’m glad you love it. I will head off now, if you need me, just buzz me and I’ll be here right away.”

When Gyeoul was about to leave, Jaehyun followed her, but you were quick to stop him by holding his wrist and closed the door. “This has to end. We need to talk about us.”

“What about us?”

You dropped your bag on the ottoman, letting go of his wrist and walked to the windows to gather your thoughts. You frustratingly run your fingers through your hair, frustrated that Jaehyun is acting like he does not understand what you’re saying.

“You’re in my mind lately and I don’t know why! It’s… it’s making me crazy! You’re making me crazy!” You confessed, “It was just a kiss! A simple, quick kiss but why is the aftermath like this? Why do I think of you all the damn time, even last night, when I was kissing some dude?”

“Miss Y/N–”

“Why am I starting to fall for you, Jeong Jaehyun?!”

PRESENT DAY.

After crying for so long on Nami Island, your brothers have convinced you to eat with them at a local barbecue place. And even though you have vowed never to drink again, you and Gongmyung were drinking one on one (not Doyoung though, he’s driving back home).

“I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you,”

“Why are you saying sorry to us? You did nothing wrong.” Gongmyung said, flipping the meat on the grill as he watched you wipe another tear. “Stop crying now, Y/N. We’re not angry or disappointed.”

“And frankly, we noticed it already. The looks and smiles you two exchanged before? You make it seem so subtle but somehow my intuition told me that there was something between you and Jaehyun.” Doyoung smiled, handing you his handkerchief. “Wipe those tears. We understand why you hid it. You just wanted to protect Jaehyun and your relationship.”

“Grandma was so right, trust no one. Be it your friends or family.”

The moment they found out about the accident, Doyoung who was bound to Europe took the next flight back to Korea and Gongmyung rushed to the hospital despite him being in his pajamas. You couldn’t help but smile at your brothers, you swore the two of them had annoyed and teased you a lot growing up, but they’re always there to understand and protect you.

“I don’t know where I’m going now…” You murmured, “I can’t go home, I don’t want to face dad after what happened.”

“You can stay at my condo, I’m not using it anyway since mom says I should still live with you all.” Gongmyung offered, “You can stay there until you’re ready. I can drive you to work and pick you up.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course, you’re my baby sister!”

“Hey, she’s my baby sister, too!”

“Then I drive her to work and you drop her off at my condo then.”

“Alright, deal!”

After that dinner, you decided to check out of the motel and head back to the city with your brothers. As expected, Doyoung was the only one who’s allowed to drive as you and Gongmyung had a lot to drink. This week is too much for you to absorb, you don’t even have the energy to go to work but what could you do? You couldn’t abandon your job, after all, you’re the CEO now (although you still work under your father’s company). While Gongmyung snores in the front seat, you rest your head on the window. The night is deep and quiet, extra points for the rain as it gives you a really dramatic effect— almost as if you were filming a music video.

Now that you found out the truth, what will happen? Will your father admit the crime, or will he hide it until his conscience speaks out about it? There were many things running inside your head as you stared outside the window.

“Doyoung, can we visit Jaehyun?” You asked quietly, your brother looked at you through the rearview mirror with his brows raised. “I-I know it’s late but I really want to see him right now.”

Doyoung nods his head to your request, reminding you that it’ll be an hour until you arrive at the destination and that you should rest. But you couldn’t rest, you just simply couldn’t close your eyes because every time you do, you recall the last few seconds before the accident occurred. The whole drive to the hospital, you were just quiet. You weren’t holding your phone, you were busy looking out the window and trying to focus on other things and not the one running inside your head.

“We’ll stay out here, call us when you need anything.” Doyoung said and closed the door of Jaehyun’s room for you.

It was painful honestly, hearing nothing but his vital monitor beep as it keeps track of his vital signs. He was sleeping peacefully, no records of him waking up today unfortunately. You dropped your bag on the couch, taking a seat next to his bed before holding his hand. Oh the things you want to say to him right now, but it feels like it’s not the right time for that. You stayed like that for a while, and eventually you found yourself crying again. Crying and apologizing.

The clock strikes 2 in the morning. You didn’t notice that you fell asleep crying and holding his hand. The strain you felt on your neck woke you up, you lifted your head and looked at Jaehyun. He was still asleep, nothing new. But you were deeply asleep. Sighing, you stood up and grabbed your belongings, planted a kiss on his forehead and whispered: “I love you” before leaving him alone inside the cold hospital room again.

I’ll be back, Jae.

FOUR YEARS AGO, THREE WEEKS AFTER YOUR CONFESSION.

Ah, the season of bliss. The season most of the company employees look forward to the most— the season of all seasons, Christmas. Your father, since he started his own company, made sure to thank all the people around him for their hard work and service to the companies he had. That is why he rents a whole hotel resort somewhere around the globe to celebrate another successful year of working altogether.

And this year, due to popular demand and due to the current situations of the world, they decided to celebrate the year-end party in Jeju Island. Luckily, one of your father’s great friends, who happens to be Kun’s father, owns the hotel-resort everyone was staying at for three days. That’s three days of different activities with material and cash prizes that got everyone so excited.

Because everyone was given a chance to explore the wonders of Jeju throughout the day, the final event to wrap up the three-day company outing will be held tonight, the Christmas Party. The hotel resort you were staying in is owned by the Qians, which is why Kun was present here as well. That being said, you made plans to grab a drink with him as you wanted to relax before going back to your reality tomorrow.

“So, is there a lucky guy in your life now?” He asked, taking a sip of his pinot noir. “Doyoung said you want to focus on your training, what’s that like?”

“I do want to focus on my training, but there’s this guy who… well, it’s a mess right now.”

You don’t even know if Jaehyun has reciprocated your feelings or not. After that confession of yours, the two of you never had the chance to talk about it as well. He just left your office like nothing happened and waited for you until your work was done. It was quite embarrassing for your part, really, you’ve never confessed to anyone after Kun and since then you were just casually dating. For the first time in years, you had the chance to confess to a guy once again but it feels like it was a bad idea. It really wasn’t a mess, you just said that because you knew that it would stop Kun from interrogating you.

Or so you thought.

“Why is it a mess? Sending you mixed signals?”

You shook your head, he’s not, in fact I’m the one who’s at fault. “No,” You answered, “Sorry, I won’t go deep into the details. It’ll go away soon, besides I’m not even sure if I’m really into him.”

Hell yeah you’re sure.

You have successfully maneuvered the topic to a different one. Kun has exchanged stories with you about how his fiancé was excited about getting married and how they were so ready for their honeymoon in Maldives. You could see it in his eyes that he was enamoured of his significant other— they’re so lucky to have him in their life. Your little catching up session ended when your alarm rang and reminded you that it was time for you to go and prepare for tonight’s dinner party. You bid your goodbye to Kun and he handed you the invitation for his wedding before walking away.

And now here you were, on the balcony of the event’s place that overlooks the beach. You took one last sip of your wine before placing it on the small table and removed your shoes, holding the straps on your fingers as you walked down the stairs that lead to the beach. No single soul was here except you and you took advantage of that. You walk closer and closer to the shore until you feel the cold winter sea on your feet (which you really regret now).

“Miss Y/N,”

You turn your head and see Jaehyun. This was the first time you saw him since the three days you’ve been here. He looked cute as he was still wearing his tuxedo with an antler headband.

“Walk with me.” You request, waiting for him to respond. He nodded his head and walked until he was finally next to you. “So, I want to apologize about what happened three weeks ago. From me calling you so late in the evening, you picking me up in the club and uh… me confessing. That’s kind of unprofessional of me, I think, and I know you’re just doing your job and it’s not your fault that I’m uh, starting to like you because I’m the one who’s responsible for my feelings. I hope we can just pretend that that never happened.”

“Y/N,” Jaehyun called, you stopped your tracks by the sudden drop of formalities. “Do you know why I walked out right after your confession?”

“Because we’re two different people who are not meant for each other.” He continues, “You’re so near yet so far, you don’t deserve someone like me. You deserve someone who lives the same lifestyle as you, the same tax bracket as you, someone who—”

“So what you’re saying is that you think the two of us wouldn’t work because we’re from two different worlds?” You asked, his nod made you scoff. “Then I guess that’s it. You’ve rejected me then?”

“I wasn’t finished though,” He says, “We’re from two different worlds, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to be with you, wanting to try it with you. I know what I’m about to enter would be a huge risk, a huge scandal, but if it’s with you, then I’m willing to take that risk.”

And in that moment, what he told you, it felt like a dream. Is this really happening? You ask yourself, unable to process the words he just said. Your solution? Run back to the hotel and leave him on the beach because you got shy. Jaehyun, however, laughs at what he just witnessed.

The morning after, you found yourself waking up due to the hotel staff knocking at your door. You were so confused because it was early in the morning and the checkout was not until 1 o’ clock in the afternoon. When you opened the door, the bellboy handed you a small bouquet of forget me nots, confused, you took them and thanked the bellboy. It’s winter— usually, forget me nots bloom during the spring. You touch its petals and realize they were artificial.

“Roses are overrated. Forget me not flowers symbolize true love and respect— so I hope you know that my confession last night is true. They’re artificial because they’re not in season yet, I’ll give you the real one in the spring. Let me know if you’re willing to take this risk with me, no rush, let me know whenever you’re ready. Happy holidays, Y/N. Signed, J.”

PRESENT DAY.

Thank heavens for the condominium your brother owns. Somehow, you were able to calm yourself by staying there and found comfort instead of going back home. You’ve been staying there for quite a while, and your brothers willingly drove you back and forth to the office and to the condominium. Your parents have tried to contact you, but your brothers insisted they give you time and let you heal first before speaking to them. Jaehyun, so far, has yet not woken up from his coma. It’s been 8 weeks since the accident, yet no signs of him waking up happened.

“Miss Y/N, Johnny Suh is here to see you.” said your secretary through the intercom.

“Oh, alright. Send him in please.”

Johnny Suh, the famous director and currently the CEO of Suh Film Studios, enters your office with a bouquet of tulips.

“I heard about the accident when I was in America, how are you?” He asked, taking a seat on the chair across your table. “These are for you, by the way.”

“Thank you, they’re pretty.” You compliment, taking the bouquet from his hands. “I’m good, it’s been a month and I’m doing good now.”

“What about that bodyguard of yours? Is he good?”

You stopped looking at the flowers and gazed at him, “Uh, no. I heard he’s still at the hospital.” You reply, “So what brings you here?”

“Nothing, just wanted to see how you were doing— personally. I haven’t heard much from you since you last contacted me and since the accident, there haven’t been many updates about you.”

Still the same person who never gets tired of flirting with you since you were introduced two years ago. You let out a chuckle, standing up to put the flowers he gave you in an empty vase. “I’ve been avoiding the media and the internet, that's why you haven’t heard any updates about me.” You say, turning your back against him as you place the vase on the small cabinet by the window. “Johnny, why are you really here?”

“I told you, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.” He answered, “Also, I’d like to take you out for dinner.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? I just wanted to catch up and take you out. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You turn your heels around, “Well, alright then.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 6.”

The moment Johnny bid his goodbye, you return to your seat and stare at the tulips resting on the vase. You remember Jaehyun again, he loved giving you flowers. Sometimes you’d find them in your office, on a random Monday morning with a cute note. The specific flower he loved to buy you were forget me not— he loved them because they only bloom during the spring, he loved them because it’s his reminder that he will keep you in his thoughts everyday. He loved that the flower means being faithful, because like the flower, he was faithful to you as well. After all, you really are his first official girlfriend. Sucks that his first relationship is hidden from the public.

You didn’t have time to go back home and just asked Johnny to pick you up at your office. You informed your brothers beforehand as well, they told you that they will be visiting Jaehyun tonight. He brought you to the newest Michelin restaurant in town, owned by Lee Taeyong— your brother, Doyoung’s best friend and as he quoted your ‘brother from a different mother’. Taeyong was shocked to see you again after so long that he offered to pay for your whole meal, which Johnny disagreed to because it was still business (also because the meal you’re currently eating is worth at least $500).

“You know your bodyguard has always been so protective of you, aren’t you getting annoyed by it?”

That’s because he’s my boyfriend. “The first few weeks were annoying, but I grew out of it. I kind of miss having him around.”

“Why? Is he your boyfriend or anything?”

You almost choked on the wine you were drinking, but brushed it off with a chuckle. “Stop putting meaning into it, John. He’s been my bodyguard for four years, I got used to him being around and following me.”

“You’re right, I just assumed that he’s into you because he’s really protective of you and looks like he’d punch any other guy who tries to touch you.”

“His gaze has always been like that ever since.”

Johnny was about to answer but got interrupted by your ringing phone. You excused yourself and took the phone with you before heading to the restroom. Gongmyung has sent you numerous text messages while Doyoung called you, quickly, you answer the call. Just before you could say a greeting, you could hear Doyoung’s frantic voice.

“We’ve been trying to contact you, are you still with Johnny?” He asked, by the sound of his breath, you know that he has been walking back and forth.

“I am, what’s happening?”

“Jaehyun…”

You didn’t need any further explanation; you ended the call and went back to Johnny. The older man noticed the haste in your actions, “What’s happening?”

“I have to go,” You reply, taking your wallet and pulling out cash. “I’m sorry, it’s an emergency.”

You placed the cash on the table and headed off quickly, unable to hear Taeyong’s voice when he called you as your attention was focused on Jaehyun’s condition. Fuck, you thought, seeing the traffic on the streets. It’s rush hour and no taxis or buses are available nearby. You could hear Johnny call for your name, and felt his hand on your shoulder.

“It’ll take you hours if you wait here, I’ll drive you.”

TWO YEARS AGO

Two years have passed, yet it feels like it was yesterday when you got drunk and confessed to Jaehyun. Your relationship is slow as the two of you agreed. Keeping a private, lowkey relationship was something you weren’t expecting you’d have, but you were definitely satisfied with it. You and Jaehyun would sneak kisses whenever he enters your office, sometimes you’d take the risk of making out on the couch of your office after business hours. You’d always tell your parents not to wait for you for dinner because you have something else to do in the office, but you were just there so you could spend quality time with your boyfriend. Jaehyun enjoys the thrill, whenever the two of you are left alone in the building, he’d sneak a kiss on the hallways where the cctvs are out of sight, inside the elevator if there’s only the two of you, before heading to the parking lot, you’d pull him to the emergency stairwell, inside the car while your driver fills up the gas.

His lips were so… addicting. And that’s why you arranged a rendezvous together. Away from the city, from the crowd. In a little cabin in the woods in a place where no one knows the two of you, to celebrate your first year together.

“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” he says, planting a soft kiss on your cheek before claiming your lips. “I love you so damn much.”

You feel your cheeks heat by the compliment. Jaehyun kisses you slowly and passionately while your hands work on unbuttoning his white dress shirt. This is the first time since you’ve dated that you will be intimate with each other. All you ever did in the span of one year were sloppy make-outs in places you know no one will see you. Though there are days you could feel his boner through his pants during makeout sessions, he’d laugh them off and tell you that he was willing to wait for the perfect time for that to happen.

“C-can I?” He asked gently, referring to your shirt. You nod your head and feel the cold air from the A/C on your exposing skin as he peeled off the shirt. Jaehyun bites his lips as he sees your breasts bounce once the cloth is removed. “Gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

Jaehyun took this chance to remove the remaining clothes off of him and yours as well, he kissed your forehead before mumbling a quick thank you then proceeded to plant kisses on your cheeks, the tip of your nose and your lips. So what was it with Jaehyun’s lips that are so addicting? Because whenever he kisses you, you feel like your world slows down. It’s like his lips were made for you and you only. You feel your head lay down on the soft pillows while he peppers kisses on your neck lowering himself further as he creates a trail; he kisses the skin between your breasts, he pauses in the middle of your tummy. You felt goosebumps as you felt his hot breath on your skin. Someday. Someday in the future. He thought, kissing the skin before proceeding to lower himself.

It feels so embarrassing knowing how wet you are right now, but Jaehyun assures you that it was fine. He runs his finger along your slit, causing you to suck air. Jaehyun chuckles, rubbing the nub clockwise as you arch your back. He inserts a finger, followed by another one as he distracts you from the pain by dipping his lips to yours.

“Jaehyun, c-can I?”

He took your pleas as a signal, he quickly discarded his boxers and kicked them off his legs. You knew that Jaehyun was packing, you could feel it through your pants or skirt whenever he’s hard while you’re making out yet you were fascinated by how it looks now that you’re seeing it. Your lips curl into a grin, sitting up and your hands take his cock, precum visible on its tip. You pump his shaft a few times, earning groans and heavy sighs from Jaehyun. You took his length into your mouth, tasting the salty, bitter taste of his precum. His hips started to jerk forward slowly, feeling the splash of pleasure as you suck him. He smirks when he hears you gagged, removing himself from your mouth and wiped the drool on the side of your mouth.

After he opens the silver packet, he rolls the rubber on his cock. He puts his fingers below your chin, and you look up to him with a smile. Jaehyun connects his lips to yours and you let go of his dick when you feel him gently push you to the bed, your lips not breaking up. You feel his hand spread your legs to position himself between you.

He breaks the kiss and lines his cock on your entrance, “Ready?” He asks, earning an eager nod from you. Jaehyun plants a kiss on your forehead before he pushes the tip in. You let out a gasp, feeling his thick cock rub against your wall. “Baby, you’re tight.”

Your eyes shut closed when Jaehyun started to suck on your nipple, he palms your breast and started to rock his hips slowly. The mixture of moans and groans filled the whole room as his entire length was buried inside of you. He maintained the slow pace, taking his time as he practically makes out with your nipple while you tug his hair in pleasure. When he finally stopped, he started whispering sweet nothings against your cheek and lips.

The sex was slow and intimate— nothing like the ones you did when you were in university because now, you were doing it with the person you love and not a random guy you met at a party. It feels different knowing how much you love this guy, it feels so perfect and you feel loved, adored and appreciated by the things he’s been whispering to you. The bed creaks with each thrust he makes, your fingers that were once on Jaehyun’s hair, now twisting the comforter underneath you.

“Babe,” you mewl, “I-I think I’m close, please don’t stop…”

“So am I.”

Jaehyun started to fasten his pace, his length was filling you up and the skin slapping got louder and louder, causing it to echo inside the room. The orgasm that was slowly building up earlier, was now at its peak. You were the first to cum, wrapping your legs around his waist as you let him chase his high. Your walls clench around him, causing his cock to twitch— his thrusts became more frantic. Jaehyun moans your name as his cum spills into the condom.

He pulls out of you, removing the rubber from him and making sure to tie and discard it properly. Soon, he was lying next to you in bed. Planting kisses on your forehead and whispered a small thank you and I love you to you. It felt perfect; you in his warmth, not caring about the world and its problems— because what’s important right now is just the two of you.

PRESENT DAY.

After you thanked Johnny for giving you a ride to the hospital, you rushed to the entrance. Stopping for a second to remove your heels and once you held them in your hands, you were unstoppable. The elevator was taking far too long to arrive so you chose to take the stairs as Jaehyun’s bedroom was located on the third floor only. After opening the emergency stairwell’s door, you stopped to catch your breath and walked to his room where your brothers were waiting for you outside.

“What happened?”

Doyoung turns around and sees you holding your heels, yet ignores the judgment he did as whatever he was about to comment did not matter right now. “It’s been thirty minutes, the doctors still hasn’t come out.” He says, “But I came to check up on him just as you asked me to, I told Gongmyung to come with me and after 10 minutes we were inside the room, we noticed his hand move as well as his vital signs.”

You plop on the chair beside you, catching your breath properly this time. The elevator door opens and spits out Johnny, holding your bag. Thankfully, Doyoung was a quick-thinker. He was quick enough to change the subject and got Johnny out of the scene before the man finds out the reason why you were in a rush to go to the hospital.

A number of doctors and nurses exit Jaehyun’s room, and call for you and Gongmyung. “Do you mind if we enter the room altogether?” Dr. Park asks, the two of you nodded and entered the room. “Jaehyun, the people who stood as your guardians for the past few weeks are here. Your sister is on her way here according to the assistant nurse.”

Jaehyun had a confused look on his face as he stared at you, he was staring for so long that you were starting to get nervous. “If you mind me asking Jaehyun, do you remember them?”

“M-my boss, Kim Donghyun.”

“What about her?”

He frowns, as if he was trying to find the words he wanted to say. “I don’t know her.” except the one he said shattered your heart in just a second. “I-is he Mr. Gongmyung’s girlfriend?”

The doctor smiles and shakes his head, asking more personal questions relating to him and even from his childhood. “You did a great job, Jaehyun. Thank you for answering.” He said, “Mr. and Ms. Kim, could we step out of the room for an explanation?”

“What was that, Doc? Why can’t he remember me?” You asked the moment Dr. Park closes the door.

“Jaehyun has traumatic amnesia— that is the result of the accident. As you know, amnesia involves losing an individual’s memory. That includes his memories from his childhood and some recent events.” Dr. Park explained, “If I may ask, Ms. Kim, what is your relationship with the patient and how long have you known him?”

Your eyes widened and looked at your brother. “He’s uh, he’s my bodyguard and we’ve known each other for 4 years now.”

Dr. Park nodded his head, “I see, but you do have to know that due to the severity of his head injury, it might take a while before he remembers most of his memories, but this is also just temporary. Amnesia does not have medications to help the patient restore the lost memories, but you may help him remember some of it by reminding him of the things he experienced or liked like music, movies, and even food. Meanwhile, the patient is doing well now as per his condition, but I suggest giving him a few more days here in the hospital for him to fully recover. He’s been in a vegetative state for quite a while.”

“Thank you for explaining, Dr. Park.”

The doctor nods his head and walks away, leaving you and your brother in the hallway. Just in time for Doyoung to return from his mission to get rid of Johnny.

“I’m just… I’m just gonna go get some fresh air.” You say, putting on your shoes and walked away. You hear your brothers call for you, but you tuned out and head off to the elevator.

“What happened?” asked Doyoung, “Is Jaehyun alright?”

“Yeah, he is. But Dr. Park said that he’s suffering from amnesia, he remembers me and most of his memories, but none from his childhood and the past 4 years. He doesn’t remember Y/N.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

“I have no idea, Doyoung.”

You needed air, but you also needed to let out your anger. After running away and staying in your brother’s condominium, you finally had the strength to return home and face your father. You hand the cab driver a wad of cash, exiting the car and walked to the gates of your house with an exasperated face. You were almost a hundred percent sure that since you left, you were a persona non-grata in this household, but the guards were quick to open the gates for you. Even the maids who were cleaning the living room were shocked to see you enter the house and quickly pointed your parents’ direction when you asked them where they were.

You barged in the small function room you have, you weren’t aware that your parents have visitors but that was the last thing you’d think of right now. What’s more important is what you have to say. Your mom’s eyes widened when she saw your presence, your father stopped drinking his whisky.

“Are you happy, Dad?” You say, voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Are you happy that your plan worked?”

“Y/N,” Your mother warned, “Not now.”

“Why not now, Mom? Are you scared that everyone in this room will know that Dad is responsible for putting me and my bodyguard in that accident? That he was the main reason why my bodyguard is in the hospital with amnesia right now and was almost on the brink of death?”

Loud gasps echo the room, and whispers spread like wildfire. Your father was not best at hiding his emotions, when he’s mad, he’s mad as hell. He couldn’t believe that now that you are older, you’re able to look at his eyes and have the power to shame him and have the power to speak the truth in front of a lot of people. He hated that you could now look straight into his eyes and tell the world what kind of father he was. And that is why his defense was to slap you across the face, so hard that the skin of his hand and your cheek made a loud noise.

“What kind of daughter are you, bringing shame into this family by dating a bodyguard?”

“Really, Dad? You’re asking me that when you should’ve asked yourself, what kind of person are you? How do you sleep at night knowing you almost took your own daughter’s life, and another person’s life?” You sob, turning your heels to look at the people inside the room. Your eyes met their judging gazes, “What you heard is the truth. My own father plotted an attempted murder to me and my bodyguard. The news that said the cause of my car accident was unknown? That’s because my parents wouldn’t disclose the truth to the media. They’re ashamed of what the public would think of our family, knowing that I am dating an average guy, hell, my own bodyguard.”

Silence surrounded the room as you walked away. People were astounded and speechless as they looked at your parents in disgust. As you reach the doors of your house, you wonder where did your confidence to face your father come from? And quickly, you realized it was all the pent up anger you’ve been hiding from him all these years. It felt like a thorn was pulled out of your chest, yet everything was still a mess.

Now that the truth is out, what will happen to you? You were a hundred percent sure that by tomorrow, headlines will spread about your family and your current relationship status. But with Jaehyun suffering from amnesia, what would be your relationship with him now? Will your relationship switch from being lovers to strangers? Will he continue working for you and your family? You didn’t know what the set up would be.

You return back to your brother’s condominium, unable to think straight and sleep after what happened today. It was already 12 midnight, and you find yourself sitting by the window, downing a bottle of wine as you cry. Why was the world unfair? All you wanted was to be happy with Jaehyun, and nothing else. So what is it that you did in your life, that its consequence was to withhold your happiness with Jaehyun?

“Sir Gongmyung,” Jaehyun called, causing your brother to turn his head around. Three days have passed since he woke up and is now getting ready to be discharged. “I cannot express how grateful I am for… um… you paying for my hospital bills.”

“It’s nothing, Jaehyun. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can, sir—”

“No, Jaehyun, everything’s settled. You don’t have to,” Gongmyung gave him a warm smile, and waited for the nurses to give them the go signal to exit the premises. “Although are you sure you’re fine going back to your job? You can rest for a while before going back, we’re not in a rush to have you back after all.”

“I don’t think I can rest, sir. It’s my job to protect you all and I’m pretty sure I’m okay going back right away.”

THREE YEARS LATER.

How long has it been since you left Korea?

It’s been a good three years since you left without saying a word, charging your father for attempted murder, winning the case and finally putting him to jail like he deserves. Haneul was still in business, thanks to your brothers’ hard work and dedication — it wasn’t easy but they made it possible. You were 27 when you left, and now you’re returning as a 30-year-old woman who now owns her own company, not affiliated with her father’s company and name. As the plane lands in Korea, you remember returning here when you were 23. A young, naive woman who had no idea what her future was like. The young woman only wanted to date freely without having everyone question her.

Doyoung had picked you up from the airport, driving you back to the apartment you bought in Gapyeong where you plan to stay for a while after finishing a huge movie. For a woman in her early 30s, directing your first movie felt good and knowing it was a blockbuster around the world boosted your confidence even more. That being said, all the hard work you’ve done for the past three years, you deserve a break. Going back to Korea was both painful and wonderful. You were going back knowing that you’ve healed some parts of you that were once broken, and you were going back to pick up the remaining pieces you’ve left there.

“You sure you’re going to be okay here?” asked your brother as he pushed your last luggage inside the apartment, “Because I can take a few days off at work to stay with you here, even Jina can stay with you”

You let out a chuckle, shaking your head no. “I’ll be fine, I’ve been living abroad alone for three years. Pretty sure I can handle myself now.” You reply, “Besides, Jina is pregnant. I don’t want to be an inconvenience to the two of you.”

“You’re not an inconvenience, Y/N. You’re my sister and Jina misses you.”

“Doyoung, I really will be okay here. I’ll visit you whenever I can, but for now I really want to be alone” You persuade.

“Alright,” Your brother sighs, “The car you’ve asked for will be delivered here tomorrow. Be sure to wake up early for that, alright? I’m pretty sure I’ve asked them to deliver that at 9 a.m.”

You nodded your head and caged your brother into a hug, “Thank you… like seriously. For still taking care of me even if you already have your own families.”

“You’re our sister, you’re still our family.”

Doyoung left you alone inside the apartment, it was already 10 in the evening when you were finally done putting your things away. You open a bottle of wine and sat by the window of your apartment, enjoying the late night sky. As you finish your first glass, you couldn’t help but think of your ex — wait, was he your ex? There was no official breakup after all, there was no breakup to start with as he was suffering from amnesia during that time. You couldn’t help but chuckle and tear up, you avoided Jaehyun so much that time when you were attending court trials, and even avoided him when he tried to talk to you.

Gongmyung said that after a year, he left his job and opted to work for the company his sister had recommended to him. You badly missed him, but you’re unable to do anything. You lost contact and everything with him. Jeong Jaehyun, maybe in another lifetime. You thought as you downed another glass of wine.

When the car Doyoung bought for you arrived, you wasted no time and headed off to the place you missed the most. The place you spend your happy and sad days. The place that brought you so much joy and so much pain. You noticed a lot has changed in the span of a few years of not visiting, there were a lot of tourists as expected. Families, couples, groups of friends — you smiled at the sight of them because everyone looked so happy. You sat on a vacant bench, watching the water and listening to the autumn breeze. You were back here, in the same exact spot you cried to your brothers when you found out the truth about your father.

“I knew I’d find you here” You froze, you haven’t heard that voice in years. “Y/N…”

You didn’t want to turn around, you wanted to, but you weren’t sure if you could. Am I hallucinating? You thought, shutting your eyes close as well as your hands. This can’t be real. You thought again.

“Kim Y/N, the woman I love… you’re here again.” You gulped at the sentence, this really can’t be real. This is some fucked up shit. I’m dreaming. “My former boss who hated me, my former boss who took my first kiss on this island, my former boss who confessed to me on Jeju Island, my love who loved forget me nots.”

You could feel your heart beat faster as you heard him walk closer and closer like his voice. You still couldn’t turn your head around, you wouldn’t open your eyes. “My love who left me three years ago and returned…” At this point, you wanted to cry. He remembers, “My love, I can now remember you…”

You could feel his presence in front of you, his hands were on your knees as you quietly sobbed. The man you’ve been thinking of last night was in front of you, holding you, yet you refuse to believe it. “Y-you’re not real…” You say, hearing him chuckle.

“I am real,” He says, “and I can remember you now… your name is Y/N Kim, graduated from a university somewhere in Europe, daughter of a business tycoon. Y/N Kim who never failed to visit me in the hospital when I was in coma, Y/N Kim who took my first kiss… You’re Y/N Kim whom I loved the most three years ago, and I still do until now.”

Finally, you open your eyes and see the person in front of you. Jaehyun looked so different compared to what he looked like before you left. He looked much mature now, wearing his casual clothing and not his usual tuxedo back when you were still dating. Jaehyun smiles at you as you stare into his eyes, he wipes a tear that escaped your eye and leaned towards you to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I thought you forgot about me… what about your amnesia?”

“I started remembering the things we’ve shared together a month after you left the country…” He said, “Your brothers were a huge help as well. They were the ones who told me that you are my girlfriend, they were the ones who told me about our accident.”

“B-but…”

“I remember everything now, my love.” He said, connecting your lips together, “I will never forget you now.”

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE.

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ppangjae · 2 years

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FIVE PLUS ONE | JAEHYUN

SYNOPSIS. Five times world-renowned chef Jeong Jaehyun tried to end your journey to be a chef because you weren’t ‘qualified enough to be a chef’ and that one time you proved him wrong.

—or: your villain story quite literally

PAIRING. jaehyun x fem!reader

GENRE. fluff | angst | enemies to lovers!au | chef!jaehyun | aspiring chef!reader

WORD COUNT. 28.8k+ words (is this my new record? omg)

author's note. i posted a long time ago about how i must write a chef!jae fic and now, here she is. i'm so sorry for such a long wait (and all those postponements oop) but i'm glad that she's finally done and posted for you to enjoy reading! i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it :-) also pls reading the author’s note at the end for all my thoughts about writing this fic! happy reading~

THE FIRST TIME.

The first time you and world-renowned chef Jeong Jaehyun crossed paths was when you were doing your culinary internship at Enoteca Pinchiorri in Florence, Italy. In fact, you had no idea who Jeong Jaehyun was. It was your second day of internship at the Michelin-starred restaurant and because you needed a bit more time to adjust to the new working environment, you worked as a waitress. You had no customer complaints about working as a waitress for the first week and had agreed it was the best way for you to get accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. While you had no idea who Jeong Jaehyun was at the time, he made sure you knew who exactly he was when you had accidentally stumbled over your two feet and spilled his glass of Barolo all over his cream-coloured button-up shirt.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, looking at him with extreme horror all over your face. Your knees were planted onto the red carpet floors, and you were too horrified and embarrassed to bring yourself back up onto your own two feet. You would rather be sucked into the red carpet floors and the pits of darkness, never to be seen again. Slowly looking up at him, he stares down at his stained shirt before meeting your gaze.

Your blood has never run cold until that very moment. He reads your name on your name tag with a piercing gaze before muttering. “Please get back up. You’re just creating a scene and humiliating yourself even more by gathering attention from other customers—”

“Oh, mi dispiace! Here’s a napkin, Mr. Jeong!” The executive chef, Alessandro, rushes over to the two of you with a large napkin. You’re not sure if you should be relieved to have Alessandro come in to save yourself from the embarrassment, especially with Mr. Jeong staring straight at you with eyes like shooting daggers. You’ve settled on standing behind Alessandro, feeling completely ashamed and embarrassed of yourself.

“Is she new?” Mr. Jeong asks, burning two holes through your forehead with his dark brown eyes. With your head hanging low, you could only momentarily distract yourself by noticing that the heel of your two-inch black high heels has completely broken off.

Great. You had just bought these high heels, and they've already broken. You’re left with no choice but to glue the broken heel back on.

“Yes, she’s new. I apologize, Mr. Jeong. She’s still in training, and thus, she’s a little flustered," Alessandro explains. You don’t have the strength to look at any of them, but the damage has already been done. You’re no superhero with the power to turn back time and undo mistakes. Although, you wish you did have those superpowers at this very moment.

Your conscience forces you to do what you’re supposed to do. First, apologize. Second, make an offer to clean up the spill. Three, offer compensation after consulting Alessandro with ideas. Four, scan the tables around and apologize for the commotion. You learned this in culinary school. You draw in a deep breath, stepping towards Alessandro’s side and forcing yourself to look at Mr. Jeong.

That piercing gaze… that stone-cold face… You wonder who did him so dirty to be so cold-hearted.

“I apologize, Mr. Jeong. The mess will be cleaned up and we’ll get you a new glass of Barolo. In compensation—” You begin until Alessandro decides to finish it for you.

“In compensation, your main course will be on the house. We deeply apologize, Mr. Jeong.” Alessandro bows and you take it as your cue to bow with him.

Mr. Jeong slowly nods his head. You can still feel his burning stare. Who is he? Why is he being acknowledged with such high regard? Mr. Jeong mumbles, “no worries, do you mind showing me where the washroom is?”

“Yes, Mr. Jeong. It’s right this way.” Alessandro takes over and leads Mr. Jeong to the washroom. As they’re walking away, Alessandro flashes you a look. It’s not a warning look. But with his gaze, you can tell that he’s telling you to head to the storage room to clean up the spill before Mr. Jeong comes back to his table.

As you head to the storage room to grab hot towels, you bump into one of the other waitresses, Stella, who looks just as horrified as you are. Your legs almost give out at the sight of her.

“Stella, do you mind taking over his table? I don’t think I can—”

“No, yeah, sure, I’ll take over that table for you. Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks with a face filled with concern. She bites her lip. “You do know who that man is, right?”

You slowly shake your head. “I have no idea who he is—”

“Oh mio dio!” Stella gasps in shock. “Bella, that is Mr. Jeong Jaehyun. Chef Jaehyun. He is a world-renowned chef. He owns five three-Michelin-starred restaurants in the world—”

“World… renowned… chef…” You trail off, growing more horrified by what you’ve done.

“He’s won almost every cooking competition you could think of. He’s a legend. Both of his parents are culinary chefs too. His parents also teach at one of the most prestigious universities in South Korea for its culinary arts program. He started cooking when he was only ten years old—” She continues to hammer it into your head that the man you have spilled expensive wine all over is a living legend that cannot be messed with.

And you… have messed with him.

Unknowingly.

“A legend… started at ten years old… won every competition…”

You’re going to pass out. You feel faint. Your legs feel like jello. You’re surprised that you still haven’t been sucked into the red carpet floors. Maybe fate wanted you to experience this humiliation. Did you do something horribly wrong in your past life to deserve this? It’s only been the second day of your internship and you already want to go home. Hell, you haven’t even started cooking—which is why this culinary internship is for—and you already want to go home to your parents and cry your eyes out.

“Yeah. He’s a big deal, Y/N. But don’t worry, I got you covered. I’ll take over his table. In the meantime, you stay here and get yourself together, alright?” Stella reassures you.

You slowly nod your head, falling back against the stool. Stella grabs some towels and leaves you in the storage room all by yourself. Complete shock and embarrassment, you’ve really dug yourself a huge hole. After you’ve gathered yourself together, you head towards the door to look out the small round window that peeks into the restaurant. You could see Stella wiping up Mr. Jeong’s—or should you say Chef Jaehyun’s—table. When Chef Jaehyun returns, she greets him with a wide, pearly-white smile. He returns the same energy as her, almost mirroring her warm and bright aura. It’s a complete one-eighty from how he was with you. You can’t help but feel small. You can’t help but feel miserable.

Maybe you’re not fit to be working in a restaurant. Maybe you’re not fit to be working in a kitchen.

If you can’t even handle guests on the floor, what makes you think you could handle cooking meals in a kitchen? What makes you think you could even step foot in a kitchen? As a chef?

Maybe you’re just not fit to be a chef at all.

As you clock out of your shift, you kick off your high heels to replace them with a pair of running shoes. It’s almost midnight, and you’ve spent the closing hours cleaning up the dining area and the kitchen. It’s been hours since your encounter with Chef Jaehyun but it still feels fresh in your mind. You don’t think it’ll ever leave your mind for a while.

You hear Stella call out your name as you put on your sweater. Looking over your shoulder, you spot her entering the room with a box in her hands. You quirk an eyebrow out of curiosity.

“Hey, bella. This is for you.”

She hands you the box, and you take off the cover to see a new pair of high heels. They look just like the ones you had on earlier, but it has a shiny finish. It’s an expensive brand as well. You place the cover back on, shaking your head and returning it to her.

“Oh, no, Stella, I don’t think I can take this.” You hand back the heels to her.

She shakes her head. “Oh, no, bella, this is not from me. These heels are truly for you. I was just told to hand this over to you.”

“Oh…” You mumble softly. “Alright, then. Thanks, Stella. Thank you for having my back.”

“No worries, beautiful.” She smiles. “Now, forget about what happened today because tomorrow will be a new day! I don’t want to see your frown tomorrow morning when you clock in, alright? Promise?”

You chuckle. “I promise. By the way, do you know who gave the heels?”

She waves it off. “Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about who gave them.”

“What secrets are you hiding from me?”

“I’m not hiding any secrets from you, beautiful. In fact, I have no idea who gave them. Alessandro just told me to give them to you.”

“I should probably thank Alessandro for these,” you mumble softly.

“Oh, no, these aren’t from Alessandro. He just told me that someone dropped by to give these heels to you and then he asked me to give them to you before you leave.”

THE SECOND TIME.

You didn’t think Mr. World-Renowned Chef would come back, especially on the last day of your culinary internship. Ever since your full experience of a nightmare with Chef Jaehyun, you were quite surprised that the restaurant made you stay. You were expecting them to kick you out and let you find your way on your own. The first time you encountered Chef Jaehyun, you were a waitress. But this time… you’re a line cook.

And you’re cooking two dishes for him.

“Bella, is the filet mignon and gnocchi Sorrento ready?” Alessandro asks when he pops into the kitchen.

Ever since Alessandro announced and acknowledged Chef Jaehyun’s presence in the restaurant, you’ve been a jittery, nervous mess. This is all because you want to prove Chef Jaehyun wrong. You want to see him sit in his chair and dig into the dishes you’ve made for him, appreciating every single second of your hard work and effort. There are many dishes in the hot sanitizing bath; most of them are yours because they haven’t turned out the way you want them to be. You’ve been assigned two dishes; the filet mignon and gnocchi Sorrento and tiramisu. Two completely different dishes, one is the main course while the other is a dessert.

“It’s ready.” You answer, placing the dish of filet mignon and gnocchi Sorrento over the counter for Stella to serve the intimidating chef sitting right outside of the door. In terms of what happens beyond that door leading to the dining area, you hope it’s everything but a repeated nightmare.

You take a step back and wait for Stella to return to the kitchen with Chef Jaehyun’s input on your dishes. A couple of minutes later, Stella returns to the kitchen with not a single trace of a smile spread across her lips. You wait in absolute terror.

It’s almost as if you’re experiencing a real-life Kitchen Nightmares episode. But the chef tasting the food is not Gordon Ramsay (fortunately). It’s Jeong Jaehyun (unfortunately).

“He doesn’t like it,” she mumbles softly. She draws in a deep breath, eyes finding yours. “He actually wants to have a word with the chef who made it.”

“Oh god,” you groan, rubbing at the temples of your head. You’re feeling a migraine beginning to throb every single angle of your head. It feels like your head is becoming a construction site, pulsing and pounding painfully every thirty seconds. “I’m going to pass out.”

When you step out of the kitchen, you nervously make your way toward Chef Jaehyun’s table. He’s sitting there, eyes shooting daggers right through your head. He definitely remembers you. There’s no doubt about it. There it is… the same piercing gaze he gave you the first time you encountered him. But that piercing gaze that he gives you is for a similar reason.

You messed up.

And he’s going to grill you for it.

You clear your throat and muster up a small smile as you reach his table. “Hi, Chef Jaehyun, I’m—”

“Y/N.” He cuts you off. You clamp your mouth shut. You were hoping he would be a bit nicer this time around. With the way he shuts you down, you’re starting to learn that you shouldn’t hope for better outcomes in your miserable situations. He tilts his head. “You’re the one who worked as a waitress for my table during my first visit. It’s quite surprising to see you in a chef’s apron. So… tell me, are you actually a culinary intern?”

You slowly nod your head. “Yes, chef.”

“Well, you have many things yet to learn. I’m surprised Enoteca Pinchiorri even considered taking you in as a culinary intern because the dish you had sent out to me is quite… disappointing.” One by one, his comments throw axes at your weak heart. “Take a good look at the gnocchi. Is this hand-made?”

“Yes, chef—”

“It’s rubbery. You’ve added too much flour.”

“I apologize, chef—”

“And I asked for a medium-rare for the filet mignon. It’s well-done.” He points at the filet mignon that he’s sliced with a fork and knife. You feel defeated yet again. You’re not sure if you would rather have the same person or a group of people criticize your cooking. “You should be grateful to be an intern here at this restaurant. This isn’t something you should be taking for granted. It’s not something that should be taken lightly. Other aspiring chefs desire to be in your shoes but don’t have the resources for it.”

“Again, I apologize, Chef Jaehyun.” You bow at him. “I’ll work harder.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your co-chefs. You are lacking in many skills, Y/N. Take this and my comments as a way to improve, or else you will never make it as a chef in this industry.”

That night, you barge into your bedroom with red, swollen eyes and a heavy heart. There must be a reason you keep fucking up in front of Chef Jaehyun. But you’re not sure if you’re courageous enough to be able to withstand such embarrassment. You want to go home. You want to stop your journey of becoming a chef. If the world’s most renowned chef thinks your cooking is horrible, how different would it be for a regular customer?

You feel crushed.

Just like your dreams of becoming a chef.

THE THIRD TIME.

When you told your father that you would take a chance at MasterChef, he didn’t believe you until he saw you on his TV screen. Ever since you signed up to be a part of the competition, you’ve worked diligently to create the perfect dish to cook and present to the chefs. But when you stand behind the curtains that lead into the kitchen, you can’t help but grow afraid that all you’ve tried to remember and keep note of has completely vanished from your brain. You can’t afford to mess up.

You can’t afford to lose this chance, this opportunity.

It’s been years since your mother passed away due to cancer. She had run a diner, Mina’s Place. She named it after her. It was the only diner in the city that had good reviews. The reviews were a reflection of her passion for cooking. She loved cooking for others but mostly for herself. She had many skills. She perfected many dishes. The university nearby had a highly reputable culinary program, and the professors of that program had frequented the diner from time to time. They would always tell her that there was something special about the diner and that it was surely on its road to something even bigger.

But before your mother had seen the highest success of her dream, her diner, she fell ill and was diagnosed with cancer. In a short time, her health deteriorated, and she eventually succumbed to her illness, leaving the diner and bringing all its light with her.

If there was something you wanted to get out of this competition, it was a reputation. It was another chance to continue your mother’s dream. You know that this is something your mother would have wanted if she was still alive, to see her diner up until its end. But she was the one who let go first. Your dream is to bring back the diner, and you’re not sure how, but all you want is to fulfill her dream.

Your mother’s dream has become yours.

“Let’s welcome the next potential contestant, Chef Y/N. She’s interned at many restaurants in Florence and wants to open up a restaurant of her own someday.” The host introduces you as you wheel your cart into the kitchen.

When you reach the workstation situated right in the middle of the room, you place your things down before looking up to introduce yourself to the judges. As you look up, the first person you meet eyes with is Chef Taeyong. Chef Taeyong is known for being the co-owner of a three-Michelin-starred restaurant in Florence. You’ve always wanted to become a culinary intern at his restaurant, but you always chickened out. Standing right next to him is Chef Doyoung, who nods his head at you. Chef Doyoung is known for being a world-renowned chef in the making. He was the winner of MasterChef four years ago and since then has opened a lot of successful restaurants, all of them with Michelin stars. And standing right next to Chef Doyoung is—Chef Jaehyun?!

When Jaehyun’s eyes land on you for the first time in years, his eyebrows raise with surprise. Seeing you for the third time cannot be a pure coincidence. He tries to compose himself and get himself together when you finally acknowledge his presence. From the corner of his eye, he could see Taeyong glance at him. His shoulders tense up, but he feels them slowly relax when you look away from him.

“Plans to open up a restaurant, huh?” Chef Doyoung smiles and you bite your lip, nodding your head in reply. “You know, that was my plan when I started my journey here in MasterChef. My plan worked out in the end! That means you can fulfill whatever your heart desires, as long as you put your mind to it.”

“I truly believe that if you put your mind into something, it'll be easily attainable if you put in the work and effort.” Chef Taeyong agrees with his co-judge. “Do you have anything planned for today?”

You clear your throat. “I’m planning on baking up a dish that my mother used to make for me. Well, it’s a dessert among many desserts that my mom used to make for the family.”

“But will this dish be enough to give you a spot in MasterChef?” You almost choke on your spit when you hear his voice for the first time in years. Chef Jaehyun. His voice still sends shivers down your spine. As you slowly look up from the stove, you find him already looking back at you with the same piercing gaze that you never seemed to forget.

You gather yourself together. You nod. You like to believe that you’ve learned to handle your nervousness and anxiousness. “More than enough, chef.”

“You seem to have a close relationship with your mother,” Chef Doyoung begins. While you’re conversing with the chefs, you’re preparing your dish. You start by dipping the truffles in melted chocolate. “Is she the one who inspired you to join MasterChef?”

You smile at the thought of your mother. You answer as you place each chocolate-covered pumpkin pecan truffle onto the plate. “Yes, chef. She’s very special to me. I just want to make her proud.”

“Well, what are you making us for today?” Chef Doyoung questions. You’re placing the spiced pumpkin roulade next to the truffles and adjusting them to make the dish look presentable overall.

“I’ll serve you a spiced pumpkin roulade with pecan maple truffles. It’s something my mom used to make every Thanksgiving.” You answer. “It’s also my dad’s favourite dessert, and because it’s his favourite, my mom would make it for him every now and then. I would have to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night to get a bite because the whole thing would be gone the next day.”

Chef Taeyong chuckles. “Sounds sweet, spicy, and delicious. It also sounds like it brings warm memories. You have five minutes left, Y/N.”

Five minutes later, your dish is ready. You place it right in front of you at your station. Chef Taeyong is the first one to taste your dish. He heads over to you and picks up his spoon. He scoops a spoonful of everything in your dish underneath the warm spotlights that shine over your station. Pumpkin pecan truffles… spiced pumpkin roulade…

“Do you mind walking me through this dish?” Chef Taeyong asks.

“What you have on this side are the truffles… the pumpkin pecan truffles, to be exact. It’s glazed with maple syrup.” You explain before pointing to the sliced pumpkin roulade on the other side of the dish. “And on the other side of the dish is a spiced pumpkin roulade.”

“You seem nervous,” he says softly.

You let out a shaky laugh. “I am indeed quite nervous, chef.”

“How bad do you want this, Y/N?” He asks.

“So bad.” You answer simply. “You don’t even know how bad I want this.”

“Let’s see if this dish is enough to earn you a spot in the competition.” He tastes your dish.

You study and observe him as he tastes the hints of pumpkin and pecan, all punched deep with some spice. You fiddle with your fingers nervously. It’s a bad habit of yours. If there’s one thing that you wanted to get out of this audition, it was at least one yes. One yes is enough for you to be satisfied. But oh, how you want this so badly.

“Wow.” He tilts his head with surprise. It’s almost as if he’s caught off guard. “It’s delicious.”

“R-Really?” You blurt out before shaking your head. “I mean—thank you. Thank you, chef, that means so much to me.”

“It tastes amazing.” He smiles before heading back to his seat.

You’re starting off strong. You like what’s happening. Two more chefs and your fate will be determined. You hope fate is on your side this time. You know you deserve a break from all of your horrible chances with luck and fate. You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard for it. It would be a huge disappointment if you didn’t earn a spot in the competition.

Next up is Chef Doyoung, who grabs his spoon and digs into your dish without uttering a single word. Once he’s finished tasting your dish, he folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Y/N, are you satisfied with how your dish turned out today?”

“More than satisfied, chef.” You mumble softly, but there’s a hint of a lack of confidence in your voice. You’re sure the chefs could pick up your low self-esteem. Chef Doyoung purses his lips into a tight line.

“Are you a perfectionist?” He asks.

“I try to be, chef.” You answer.

“Well, perfectionism is one of the best qualities to have as a chef.” He adds. He clasps his hands together and sucks in a deep breath. “I taste a light hint of lemon, but I am immediately kicked with the spices. I could taste the hint of cloves that burst right through the hints of lemon. I think you have a great sense of flavours. You have a great sense of spices. This dish has the perfect balance of sweet, spicy, and savoury.”

“Thank you, chef.” You smile, not sure how to contain your happiness.

“Well done,” he complements you before heading back to his seat.

Last is Chef Jaehyun, who walks up to your station. Your smile immediately vanishes from your face and is replaced with horror. You’re especially nervous around him. With all the horrible encounters you’ve had with him, you wish he had a poor memory because you wouldn’t want someone like him to remember you. You’re looking everywhere but him.

“I’m not a fan of sweets and desserts.” He says flat out. You wince. “That should be more than enough to make you nervous.”

“I hope that with this dish, you’ll start to appreciate desserts more, chef.” You mumble softly. It’s just barely above a whisper. You sound like a guilty child admitting fault after being caught lying. But you’re not lying, not at all. You’re just nervous.

“is this dish going to change my mind? Is this dish going to be enough to change my mind about desserts?” He continues to grill you, and you let your head hang low.

“I just… want to impress you, chef.” More like prove you wrong.

“I hope this dish doesn’t disappoint me.” His low voice sends shivers down your spine. He takes a spoonful of the cake and the truffle before shoving them into his mouth.

It feels like it’s just the two of you at that very moment. It doesn’t feel like Chef Taeyong and Chef Doyoung are there. Your entire body feels tense just standing within his line of sight. He folds his arms and looks down at your dish. “It’s good. But it’s not good enough. There’s something that’s lacking in this dish. Do you know what that is?”

“What is it, chef?” You ask.

“The presentation.” He answers. “Look at how you presented this dish to us. It does not look MasterChef-worthy. The presentation of this dish, I might say, is predictable. The presentation of a dish that you make is something you must pay attention to because if it doesn’t visibly look good, your customers would assume that it doesn’t taste good.”

“I understand, chef.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Chef Jaehyun definitely remembers you. Why? Because he loves nitpicking every single lacking detail of your cooking. He truly never changed. He’s still the same cold-hearted, selfish, rude prick.

The three chefs discuss their decision. You continue to fiddle nervously with your fingers to calm yourself down, to distract you from what’s about to come. You’re so sure that you’re not going to get a spot in the competition, and it’s all going to be because of Chef Jae—

“Y/N?”

“Yes, chef?” You blurt out with surprised, caught off guard eyes.

“It’s a yes for me,” Chef Taeyong smiles.

“It’s a no for me,” Chef Jaehyun says. “Simply because you’re lacking in presenting your dishes. I think that is very crucial to becoming a chef. I was not impressed with your dish simply because I’m not a fan of desserts. I was hoping you would change my mind, but I guess it just fell short.”

“I understand, chef. I agree that I could’ve paid more attention to the plating.” You nod your head in agreement. For the first time, you agree with Chef Jaehyun.

“Now, that leaves the pressure on me.” Chef Doyoung smirks. “If I say no, you won’t have a spot in the competition. But if I say yes, you will advance in the competition, and you will have your own MasterChef apron.”

“You won’t regret giving me a chance, chef. I want this so bad.”

Tension continues to fill the air. Chef Doyoung’s touch gaze softens, and you feel your tense posture relax. He clasps his hands together before saying, “it’s a yes for me. Congratulations, Y/N.”

“Please come up and take your MasterChef apron.” Chef Taeyong gestures for you to come up to the front.

“Oh my gosh,” you sigh with relief. “I promise I’ll do my best, chef. Thank you so much for taking a huge risk on me.”

As you near the three chef judges, you stand in front of Chef Taeyong, who helps you put your apron on. You smile, taking his hand that he extends out to you to shake. Moving onto Chef Doyoung, you shake his hand, thanking him many times for giving you a chance. Last but not least, your eyes meet Chef Jaehyun. You’ve never been up close to Chef Jaehyun like this. He’s quite handsome, you think to yourself, but it’s also a shame that he’s such a rude, cold-hearted person. He extends his hand out to you for you to shake. When your hands interlock, you can’t help but notice how warm and soft his hands are. The both of you exchange such intense looks. You’re the first one to break away, pulling back your hand.

“Long time no see. Congratulations, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Chef Jaehyun.”

THE FOURTH TIME.

On a quest to become MasterChef, you are expected to learn how to work with a team of chefs. The round that awaits you is a team challenge, where you and a couple of other contestants will work together to cook up a full course meal. The team challenge usually occurs after the first mystery box challenge and elimination round. Sitting at the front of the kitchen is a box filled with two different coloured aprons, red and blue. These aprons will split everyone into two teams based on their apron colour. From the corner of your eye, you can see your station mate, Taeil, gawking at the box at the front.

He turns towards you and whispers, “I hope we’re on the same team.”

You flash him a small smile. “I hope so too.”

Ever since the competition began, you have learned how to become a competitive chef. You’ve also learned how to make connections and new friendships. It’s what you have learned to value the most, especially working in an industry that relies heavily on networking and connections. Two rounds into the competition, you became friends with Taeil simply because he cooked up his dishes right next to you, and, over time, he also looked out for you and helped you with your dishes. He’s completely different from you. You’d like to think that he’s the complete opposite. But somehow, you both work in tune with each other. You wouldn’t have asked for a better station mate. Both of your different personalities shined the most in your cooked dishes.

“Y/N, please step up to the front and pick your apron for the team challenge.” Chef Jaehyun calls out to you, and your heart beats out of your chest. You share a look with Taeil.

As you make it to the front of the kitchen, you stick your hand into the black box to pull out a red apron. You avoid eye contact with Chef Jaehyun like you always do, but you could still feel his burning gaze. You always feel insecure and nervous around him. How embarrassing it must seem to him.

“Taeil, your turn has arrived. Come up and pick your apron.” Chef Taeyong smiles.

You wish Chef Jaehyun was like Chef Taeyong. Nice… sweet… genuine. He genuinely wanted every contestant to be successful, whether it be in their dishes or their confidence. You wish Chef Jaehyun would forget about all the horrible encounters you’ve had with him. You wish Chef Jaehyun would break out of his shell and turn his cold personality into a personality similar to his co-chef.

When Taeil arrives at the front and sticks his hand into the box, he pulls out not a red apron but… a blue one. The both of you share looks, and a pout can’t help but form across your lips. Chef Jaehyun notices your slight pout, and you immediately let it drop from your face. Taeil returns to his station, and you begin to overthink. Who are you going to work with? You’ve only become acquaintances with the rest of the contestants. Taeil is the only contestant you’ve become close to and the only contestant you consider a good friend. He’s the only contestant you see having a friendship with even after the competition ends.

After all the contestants have been called up to choose their team, the chef judges have you gather together. You and Taeil wave goodbye as you both part to your own assigned teams, you with the red team and him with the blue team. As you walk over to your team, you can’t help but notice how you’re the only woman. Your teammates are Junhwa, Jay, Mason, and Euntae.

“Today’s challenge will be quite different because you’re all expected to work together as a team with your teammates.” Chef Doyoung announces. “For today’s team challenge, we will be headed to the beach to cater for a wedding.”

Your head shoots up. You’re doomed. You know that your team is done for even before the team challenge begins. Junhwa was just saved from the elimination test the other day because he had messed up his dish for the mystery box challenge. Jay hasn’t been up to par with his dishes and has yet to cook up his best dish in the competition. Like Junhwa, Mason had messed up his dish for the mystery box challenge but was saved from the elimination test by Chef Doyoung. Euntae, however, is the only one on the team that’s been performing well in the competition. But as for you… you’re not sure where you stand in this competition.

“Let’s all head to the location and we’ll explain more about the team challenge.”

It’s the perfect day to have a wedding on the beach. The wind currents aren’t strong, but they bring a light warm breeze. The wedding takes place on a weekday which explains the small number of people hanging out at the beach. When you all arrive at the beach, the first thing you spot is two different cooking stations, differentiated by your respective team colours. You draw in a deep breath. This is going to be a long day.

“Everyone, please gather around as we begin today’s challenge.”

Everyone gathers around the three young world-renowned chefs following the producer's command. You can see Chef Jaehyun staring right at you from the corner of your eye. He’s drilling two holes through the side of your head. It’s almost as if he’s praying and manifesting for you to mess up in the team challenge. You wouldn’t be surprised if you mess up and his prayers and manifestations were served right to him on a golden platter because his intensity and strive for perfection always cause you to do so.

“Today, you will be cooking up a three-course meal for wedding guests at the beach. The couple that will be wedded later on today has laid out their menu and their expectations.” Chef Doyoung explains.

You have learned one thing so far; never have a team of aspiring chefs competing in competition be in charge of cooking and serving your guests’ food. Why? Because there’s huge room for failure. Food poisoning? Traumatizing. Undercooked food? Horrifying. You wouldn’t imagine getting married and having scared chefs-in-the-making cater to your guests at the reception. To you, it sounded like a nightmare waiting to unfold right before your two eyes. And here you are now, living out that nightmare in disguise.

“The menu consists of cranberry and brie bites for the appetizer, roasted pork loin on wild mushroom risotto for the main course, and a spiced carrot cake for the dessert.” Chef Taeyong reads off the menu that the wedding couple has put together for their guests.

You hold in a sigh of relief. You think you could handle doing the appetizer and dessert. Baking is your expertise. It’s something your mother loved doing the most. Baking up a dessert can be daunting and taxing, but once you’ve mastered the basics, everything you pop into the oven will come out beautifully. You’ve spent most of your childhood sitting in the kitchen helping her make the desserts. You’ve spent most of your childhood sitting in the kitchen and breathing in the aroma of sweet desserts.

You just hope that your team leader assigns you the appetizer or dessert. If not… you’re not sure how you’re going to put up a good performance. Will you be eliminated? Is this going to put you at risk for elimination?

“Have you all picked a team leader?” Chef Jaehyun asks.

On the blue team, Taeil raises his hand. You smile. Taeil is quite the introvert, but you know that he’ll be able to bring his team together and make the most out of it. On your team, Euntae raises his hand. It was predetermined that he would be the team leader mainly because he’s the only one who’s been doing well in the competition.

“Taeil for team red and Euntae for team blue.” Chef Jaehyun notes it down on his notepad. “Alright. Let’s have you go over to your stations to start prepping for the service.”

“You will have one hour and thirty minutes to complete your three-course meal.” Chef Doyoung announces.

“Please use your time wisely because regardless of whether your dishes are done, they will be served to the guests.” Chef Taeyong warns you. Everyone falls silent. “Your two goals are one, to make sure that there is food on the table for every single guest and two, that the food you serve has been cooked to perfection.”

“Yes, chef.” Everyone says in unison.

“Alright. Get ready because your time starts in three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

“Go!”

Thankfully, you’ve been assigned to work on the spiced carrot cake. Euntae and Jay will work on the roasted pork loin on wild mushroom risotto. Euntae will work specifically on the roasted pork loin, and Jay will work specifically on the wild mushroom risotto. Mason and Junhwa will work together on the cranberry and brie bites. It’s been about twenty minutes since the timer started, and you’re almost done mixing the batter for the cake. You’ve added carrot bits and slices in the cake batter to make the carrot stand out when someone takes a slice out of it. You’re also planning on making a cream cheese frosting to drizzle on top of the cake.

“Y/N, make sure you don’t go off track with the cake, alright? I know you’re excited, but we don’t have much time left.” Euntae commands, and you nod your head.

Euntae is such a perfectionist. It’s been obvious since the start of the competition. He’s been winning almost every challenge. If he wasn’t the winner of the challenge, he would most likely be second. Carrying your team must be difficult for him because most of his teammates have been performing poorly.

“Yes, I’ll work faster.”

“And make sure you follow the demo recipe.” He adds. “I don’t want you making something completely different from what we’re asked to do.”

You like to think of your dishes as an experiment. Most of the time, you depend heavily on your sense of taste and extensive knowledge of spices. Thus, this results in you neglecting recipe books and instructions. You like experimenting in your cooking because there’s a thrill when something turns out delicious. There’s a sense of excitement and surprise when two unlikely ingredients somehow pair well with each other.

Euntae probably notices your experimental way of approaching your dishes. He doesn’t want you to fuck everything up. You can’t blame him for playing it safe. You would do the same thing.

“This look different to you?” You ask, pointing to your cake batter.

He dips his fingers into the batter and tastes it. “Put more clove. I don’t taste the kick. I thought spices were your thing?”

You purse your lips into a tight line. He looks taken aback by your confused gaze. If there was one thing you wish you could change about yourself, it’s how you are easily readable through your facial expressions. Your emotions are easy to detect because they’re spread across your entire face. Knitted or raised eyebrows, jutted chin, pouty lips, you’re very expressive with your emotions.

“It is. I did put in clove. Is it not enough?” You dip your finger into the batter to taste it yourself. Indeed, you taste the kick. Your gut tells you not to add any more of the spices because it will be too spicy for the guests if you add more. “I don’t think we should add more. I think it’s enough—”

“I don’t taste the spices, Y/N—”

“Well, I do—”

“But I’m the team leader, right?” He reminds you. You clamp your mouth shut. Where is all of this coming from? How could he talk to you like this? You could feel your gaze hardening at him. “Do you want me to save you a spot in the competition? You do, right? So follow what I tell you to do, and everything will be fine.”

You squint your eyes at him before shaking your head. “No way. I’m not letting you sabotage my cake.”

“And I am not letting you bring the entire team down. We cannot afford to lose.” Jay butts in as he shoves you aside to place a pan on the stove. You almost stumble back, and you’re on the verge of tears.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous.” You mutter to yourself, grabbing your bowl of cake batter and moving to a different table in your station to work. You’re standing alone as the rest of your team gathers together to talk about how they will prepare the dishes. You feel left out. You feel like an outcast. You wish you were on Taeil’s team.

You feel like this is planned.

You feel like they’re planning to sabotage you.

“Y/N?” Chef Doyoung calls out to you.

You look over your shoulder to see him waving you over. You dust your hands off before heading up to him. You don’t know that Euntae walks over to your bowl of cake batter and puts in a couple of more teaspoons of clove and cinnamon behind your back. He adds a bit more than what is required. Chef Doyoung folds his arms at you.

“Yes, chef?” You mumble.

“Why aren’t you being included in your team?” He asks. He noticed, and that’s all that matters to you.

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m not quite sure, chef. We have different opinions on how we should make the spiced carrot cake. Euntae thinks there’s not enough spice, while I think there’s more than enough.

“Trust your gut. But you should also keep in mind that this is a team challenge. You’re all supposed to work together as a team.” He reminds you. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Thank you, chef.”

Suddenly, Chef Jaehyun yells out. “Your spiced carrot cakes should be in the oven right now or will be undercooked!”

Upon returning to your station, you grab your bowl of cake batter to pour it into a baking pan. Hurriedly, you place it into the preheated oven. You do not want to mess this up. You can’t mess this up. If your team fails the challenge, you are at risk of being eliminated.

You can’t afford to lose the competition.

You can’t go home.

You’re not surprised that the cranberry and brie bites were almost burnt out of the oven. You’re not surprised that your two teammates were running behind on time with the roasted pork loin and wild mushroom risotto. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if your team were unable to put out your dishes on time.

When you pull out the tray of cranberry and brie bites, you place them on the table. One by one, you place the burnt ones aside and the good ones on the serving trays. Standing behind you, Mason and Junhwa continue to panic, not even bothering to help you save their dish that they’ve been assigned to do.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” You feel yourself stiffen. Chef Jaehyun stands next to you and looks at the burnt and unburnt cranberry and brie bites. He clicks his tongue and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Were you the one assigned to do the bites?”

You shake your head. “No, chef.”

“Who was assigned for the cranberry and brie bites?” He asks your teammates.

“Us, chef.” Mason answers.

Chef Jaehyun points at you while looking at Mason. “And why is Y/N taking over your task?”

“Because she likes getting into everyone’s business—” You hear Euntae mutter underneath his breath. You’ve confirmed it: Euntae is plotting your elimination. He hates you.

“She said she would help us salvage some of the cranberry and brie bites for the guests. She’s picking it out for us while we make another batch.” Junhwa explains.

“And you’re both just standing there and watching her?” Chef Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows with anger. “Where’s your team leader?”

“Here, chef.” Euntae walks over.

“Where is the direction, Euntae?” Chef Jaehyun frowns. You could see steam coming out of Chef Jaehyun’s nostrils. “Your teammates are lost. They’re panicking, and you’re just standing in front of your pan doing your own thing. You’re in your own little world, Euntae. It’s time to wake up.”

“Excuse me, I have to take out the carrot cake.” You mumble softly as you excuse yourself to head to the oven. You take a quick peek before putting on your oven mittens to take the cake pans out.

It comes out beautifully. They’ve baked and risen to perfection. You can smell the strong aroma of spices. Hidden within the sponge cake are the grated bites of carrot, giving it a beautiful orange colour. From your periphery, you see Chef Jaehyun walking over to you. You hold in your breath.

“Can I have a taste of the cake?” He asks.

You slowly nodded your head. “Yes, chef.”

Chef Jaehyun digs into the cake with a small teaspoon while your teammates gather around to watch. He winces, and you wish you could disappear. You’ve noticed that he always winces and grimaces with disappointment whenever you mess up. It’s like you could tell what’s about to come before it even happens.

“You were in charge of the cake, right, Y/N?”

“Yes, chef.” You mumble.

Clatter. He tosses the teaspoon onto the table and frustratingly runs a hand through his hair. “You can’t serve that. It’s too spicy. You’ve put too much clove and cinnamon.”

You look at him confusedly. Completely flabbergasted, you take a bite from the cake yourself and indeed, it’s too spicy. It’s overpowering the sweetness of the carrot and sugar. But wait—you never added any more clove or cinnamon.

“You can’t serve this. This entire team is set up for failure. You cannot save yourselves from this challenge. Take off your aprons. You don’t have any more time to send out any dishes. You’ve completely failed the team challenge.”

You glance at Euntae, who avoids your gaze. He turns around and walks back to his pork loin and mushroom risotto pan. He tosses the pans into the sink out of frustration and anger.

Euntae sabotaged you.

At the end of the team challenge, you and your teammates find yourselves standing in front of the three disappointed chefs. You’re too ashamed of yourself to look at them. You distract yourself by fiddling with your fingers. You were thinking of all the ‘what if’s’. What if you were on the blue team? What if you paid more attention to your teammates that were plotting your failure? What if you worked harder? What if—

“As you are all aware of what happened today, your team lost the challenge. This only means that not one, not two, but four of you will be eliminated from the competition.” Chef Doyoung says.

“But first, we are going to tell you what you did wrong and where you all went wrong.” Chef Taeyong frowns, “as a team.”

“The first thing that went wrong were the cranberry and brie bites. They were overcooked to the point that they were burnt. You had only realized that they were burnt when you took them out of the oven too late, leaving you no time to make another batch.” Chef Doyoung explains.

“We are aware of that, chef.” Mason and Junhwa speak in unison.

“The second thing that went wrong was the spiced carrot cake. I was surprised that Y/N put too much clove and cinnamon into the batter. From your audition, Y/N, you had a good sense of the spices, so I figured this task wouldn’t be difficult to do.” Chef Taeyong outlines the second mistake of the team.

“The third thing that went wrong had completely gone over our heads.” Chef Jaehyun begins. “We were wondering why out of all the dishes you were assigned, the roasted pork loin and mushroom risotto turned out fine.”

“It was because we—” Euntae begins.

“It was because you wanted to sabotage your own teammates. Am I right, Euntae?” Chef Jaehyun catches him red-handed. “Don’t try to lie to us. Don’t you dare try to lie to me because I saw it myself.”

“I did not sabotage any of my teammates—”

“Y/N, you know why your spiced carrot cake was too spicy?” Chef Jaehyun asks you.

You courageously look into his eyes. “Why, chef?”

“Because your own teammate, Euntae, sabotaged your cake and added three tablespoons more of clove and cinnamon, which is way more than what we asked for in our demo.” Chef Jaehyun reveals. “I saw it happen right before my eyes. Euntae, if you were going to sabotage your teammate, you should’ve made sure that none of us chef judges would see it.”

“Chef, I—Y/N has always been doing her own thing in the competition, and I didn’t want her to sabotage our team by doing things the way she wants to,” Euntae explains.

“You’re supposed to work together as a team.” Chef Taeyong shakes his head in disbelief. “Did you plan this all out so that Y/N would be eliminated from the competition? Don’t lie to us because I overheard you planning this out with the rest of your teammates.”

“I—”

“Okay. That’s enough.” Chef Doyoung raises up his hand to shut him up. “We have made up our minds on who will be leaving the competition.”

“The first contestant that will be saying goodbye is…”

You clench your eyes shut as you wait for your name to be called out. You hate everything that’s happening right now. You’ve never been so careless. Now, you pay the consequences.

“Jay. Please say goodbye to your teammates.”

You feel your heart drop.

“The second contestant that will be saying goodbye is…”

Your heartbeat begins to pick up its pace once again. Once your name is called out, you’re going to have to pack your things and head back home.

“Junhwa. Please say goodbye to your teammates.”

You hold in your breath.

“That leaves Y/N, Euntae, and Mason.”

You close your eyes again, praying that your name wouldn’t be called out. You’re already thinking about what you would say to your father if you’re eliminated from the competition.

“Y/N, please say goodbye to your teammates…”

Your eyes flutter open. This is it. You’re officially eliminated from the competition. You shake hands with your two teammates who have completely sabotaged you. You’re keeping yourself together. You’re holding yourself back from bursting out into anger.

“Because you will advance to the next round of the competition. Euntae and Mason, you are both eliminated from MasterChef, please take off your aprons.”

Your heart stops. Wait.

“Wait, what?” You look at the chefs in shock.

“Y/N, you are the only one that will stay in the competition.” Chef Taeyong smiles.

“It was a tough decision.” Chef Doyoung adds.

“But we do not tolerate cheaters in this competition. You are innocent and had no bad intentions, Y/N, which is why you are safe from elimination.” Chef Jaehyun confirms everything for you. “But that does not mean you are safe from the remainder of the competition. What this means is that we will all be putting more pressure on you to be the best chef you say you are.”

“I will do my best, chef. I am confident that I will win MasterChef.”

Chef Jaehyun purses his lips into a tight line.

You feel your blood run cold.

“Don’t make us regret choosing to save you from elimination.”

THE FIFTH TIME.

“Don’t make us regret choosing to save you from elimination.”

The pressure is all on you. Chef Jaehyun’s voice echoes throughout your head the entire hour that you’re granted to create a dish. In this round, all of the contestants are given a mystery box filled with random ingredients. In your mystery box, you were given beetroot, beef tenderloin, and blackberries. They are three completely different ingredients that you’re not quite sure will mesh well together.

Five minutes before the timer started, you decided to make beef tenderloin with roasted beetroot, all covered by a blackberry sauce. And now here you are, thirty minutes in, and you just hope that your dish turns out well.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Chef Jaehyun.” You mumble softly, checking up on your beef tenderloin to see if it’s being cooked correctly on the skillet pan. You’re hoping to cook the tenderloin medium-rare to keep the monochrome colour of your dish.

“What are you making for us today?” He asks.

He’s distracting you. Whether it’s intentional or not, it’s breaking your focus. You clear your throat as you answer, “beef tenderloin with beetroot, all covered by a blackberry sauce.”

“Are you sure this is going to work out well? It seems quite… difficult to pull off.” He grabs a spoon and digs into the blackberry sauce that you have boiling in a saucepan. He tastes it and steps back, tilting his head as he loses himself in thought. “Interesting. You’re truly making this difficult for us, huh?”

What is he trying to say? You bite your lip, pretending to ignore him. “It should work out well. It is a mystery box challenge, after all. I’ve been given three ingredients that you never truly see together in a dish, but here we are.”

“The blackberry sauce is perfect. But regarding whether this blackberry sauce will complement your beef tenderloin and beetroot… you’ll have to prove that to us.” He gently places his spoon into your sink and moves on to the next contestant.

“You have fifteen minutes left! In about five minutes, you should all be plating your food!”

You turn off the stove to cool down your blackberry sauce. With fifteen minutes left, you need at least five minutes to let the beef tenderloin rest. You’re still not sure if it’s cooked medium-rare. It’s a risk you’re willing to take. You take the skillet pan off of the stove and transfer the beef tenderloin onto a wire rack for it to rest. As for your beetroot, you take each slice out to begin plating them.

“I’m not going to lie, that looks incredible, Y/N.” Taeil compliments you. You almost jump in surprise. You’ve been so focused on making sure you do well in this challenge that you forgot about Taeil. As you glance at him, he lets out a low chuckle. “Sorry for scaring you. I’ll shut up now.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I just hope it’s edible.” You crack a joke to ease your nervousness. He snorts.

“I’m sure it’s edible. You’ve made it this far, Y/N. You should give yourself more credit for your hard work.” He reassures you.

One minute left on the timer, and you’re placing the beef tenderloin right in between two slices of beetroot. To complete your dish, you drizzle blackberry sauce all over the dish. To amplify your dish even further, you take a couple of blackberries and scatter them across your dish. Overall, your dish is a dark magenta colour. Monochromatic.

“Five…”

“Four…”

“Three… Two…”

“One! Time’s up!”

“Y/N, please bring up your dish.”

With shaky hands, you grab your plate and head up to the front. You place your dish down onto the table that stands right in front of the chef judges. Each one of them looks surprised to see what you have presented to them. Chef Doyoung is the first one to take a bite. He steps forward and grabs a knife and fork, slicing himself a bit of beetroot before poking at the beef tenderloin.

“How did you cook the beef tenderloin?” He asks.

You bite your lip. “I was hoping to cook it medium-rare. But I didn’t have enough time to let it rest, so I’m not quite sure if it turned out that way.”

“Well, let’s take a look, shall we?” He insists. You slowly nod your head. Standing behind him, you can see Chef Jaehyun standing on his tiptoes to get a look at the tenderloin. As Chef Doyoung slices through the tenderloin and you sigh with relief. “It’s perfect. You doubt yourself a bit too much, Y/N. The tenderloin is indeed medium-rare.”

“Thank goodness.” You let out another sigh of relief.

He takes a bite. As he chews, you study him and wait for his reaction. When he finishes eating, he clasps his hands together and breaks out into a smile. “I think it’s quite delicious. I would definitely serve something like this in my restaurant.”

“Really? Oh wow… thank you, chef.” You beam.

“Blackberries, beef tenderloin, and beetroot. These three ingredients seem hard to cook together, but you balance them beautifully. The plating is amazing. You’ve improved your plating skills since the start of the competition. Overall, this dish is my favourite.” He places his cutlery down and flashes you one last smile. He heads back to stand next to Chef Taeyong, who’s the next one to step forward and taste your dish.

“First off, the dish looks lovely. I love the monochrome theme you have going on here. It amplifies your dish. But as for the taste, we shall find out.” Chef Taeyong takes a bite of the beetroot and tenderloin, making sure he dips it in the blackberry sauce. He tilts his head and lets out a chuckle. “That’s… amazing. You truly have a great sense of your spices. I wouldn’t even have thought of making a dish like this with these three ingredients. Well done, Y/N. You continue to perform well in this competition. I also see Chef Doyoung serving something like this at his restaurant.”

“Thank you, chef.” You hold in a happy sigh.

Next up is Chef Jaehyun, who barely waits for Chef Taeyong to step aside for him. He quirks an eyebrow at you before digging into your dish. “After we spoke earlier, I wondered how you could pull off a sour blackberry sauce with savoury beef tenderloin and beetroot. They are two unlikely tastes that should not be paired together.”

“It is a mystery box, so I just tried to work with what I was given. I hope it tastes good for you, Chef Jaehyun.” You avoid his eyes. But you could see him trying to look into them.

He takes a bite. He chews and swallows. He places his cutlery down and purses his lips into a tight line. “I’m going to be quite honest. I don’t like it. The sour blackberry sauce completely overpowers the savoury tenderloin and beetroot. However, I could definitely see why others may like it. This dish is catered for people with a specific palette. I’m not one of those people. The plating looks beautiful, however.”

“Thank you, chef.” You whisper.

“As I’ve said time and time again,” he says sternly, “you are making this extremely difficult for us, Y/N. You need to step up to the plate. I know you can do it. You have the tools and the talents to do it. You just need to use them.”

As he turns his back to you, you can feel your eyes well up with tears. Throughout this entire competition, you’ve learned that you not only want to win it, but you want to prove Chef Jaehyun wrong. He’s ignited a fire within you, a burning passion. His brutal honesty truly gets the best of you.

If you can’t prove him wrong, what’s the point of continuing your journey?

He’s a world-renowned chef. He knows what tastes good and what doesn’t. He knows whether a chef will be successful in the field. He knows everything about the cooking and food industry. If he thinks you’re not fit enough, then maybe you’re truly not fit to be a chef.

You’ve already tried to step up to the plate, but he thinks it’s not enough.

You’ve already used all of your tools and talents, but he thinks it’s not enough.

You’re not enough.

What is considered enough?

He looks over his shoulder, and you hear him mutter.

“We saved you from elimination. You must prove to us that saving you was the best decision. You must prove to us that you are more worthy of winning than your teammates that were eliminated. Remember that.”

A tear almost slips from your eye.

You give up.

THE ONE TIME YOU PROVE HIM WRONG.

“I have come to the decision to withdraw from the competition.”

“If that’s your decision, then so be it. We regret seeing you go. Thank you for showing us your talent. You may go and pack your things because your journey at MasterChef ends here.”

Upon entering the huge kitchen, you head towards the light switches to turn on the spotlight for your workstation. The kitchen has never been so quiet nor has it been so peaceful. You feel your feet being glued to the ground, almost as if they’re keeping you from leaving. When you were a kid, you loved ditching your homework to spend time with your mother in the kitchen. You would even take a stool from the dining room to place it right next to her to have a full view of how she cooked your meals. Your home kitchen was your safe haven, your safe space, where you could truly be yourself. It was what brought you closer to your mother. It was what reminded you of your mother.

But you had no choice. You force yourself, trudging your way towards your station to pack up all of your utensils. From cooking knives to ladles, you packed them away in a moving box. From your favorite fine China dishes to your custom-made chopsticks, you admired them one last time underneath the spotlight before tucking them away. You turn on the sink to dampen your towel. You wipe down your station one last time before wringing the towel out. Letting out a sigh, you wipe the beads of sweat that are forming on your forehead. This is it. Your journey at MasterChef ends here—

“What on earth are you doing?”

Looking up from your counter, you spot Jaehyun walking along the front of the space. He’s the last person you want to see. He’s the last person you want to talk to, especially right now. He has his hands tucked into his pockets as he makes his way towards you.

“I’m packing up my things.” You answer simply with a blank face.

“Why are you packing up your things? The competition isn’t over yet.” He finally makes it to your counter. Underneath the spotlight, he notices how bloodshot red your eyes are. You’ve cried all night over this competition and it brought you to your decision of withdrawing.

“The competition isn’t over yet for my fellow contestants,” you begin, “but the competition is over for me.”

“I’m not sure if I understand what you’re saying—”

“I’ve withdrawn from the competition.” You make it make sense for him. Jaehyun takes a couple of seconds for your words to sink in. Once he’s processes your words, his eyebrows furrow in confusion and frustration.

“What?” He blurts out. “W-Why?”

You grow confused. That’s his reaction? “Shouldn’t you be happy that I’m leaving the competition? It’s one less thing to worry about, right? Your decision in choosing chefs to advance to the next round won’t be hard anymore because I’m leaving. Everything will be better without me—”

“Why would I be happy over a contestant’s voluntary withdrawal from the competition?” He cuts you off.

You fall silent. Suddenly, you have no energy trying to defend yourself. With everything piling up, you’ve decided to give up. Everything that has happened to you in the past has led you to this moment. From spilling wine all over Jaehyun’s drink to messing up Jaehyun’s dish at your internship in Florence to your time here at MasterChef, it has brought you to the conclusion that maybe Jaehyun was right: you’re not fit or qualified enough to be a chef.

“In a competition, you should not associate your emotions with your overall performance. Whatever you create here in the kitchen is what we judge.” He says sternly with his hands placed on top of the marble of your countertop. “You and I are both aware that this is a competition. You are aware that your performance and the dishes you create are going to be commented on by judges. But as judges, we make those comments, good or bad, are to help you improve.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like comments to me. I don’t feel like you’re helping me improve. I feel stuck with no direction given. I just feel like you have this predisposed idea of who I am after all those negative encounters we’ve had in the past which is why you treat me like this.” You finally get it off of your chest. You feel extremely vulnerable in front of Jaehyun. All of your emotions that you’ve held in for so long are beginning to hit the surface. “And this is why I’ve decided to do everyone all a favor and withdraw.”

He pushes himself off of the countertop and holds in a sigh. You let your head hang low. His eyes land on the cardboard box sitting on the floor. It’s filled with all of your cooking utensils. He sees an old washed out apron sitting right on top of all the pans and dishes. Stitched right near the upper corner of the apron is a name. It’s not your name, but your mother’s name. The apron has been through a lot. It’s been through a lot of washes. It’s been through a lot of spills. But you have never once thought of throwing it out because it was the only thing you had left of your mother. Aside from all the memories you have of and with her, of course.

“Well, withdrawing from the competition means that you’re aware that you have no confidence in yourself.”

“I hope you’re hearing yourself right now.” You mutter softly.

“Do you really think you’re not fit to be a chef?” He questions.

“Well, you sure make me feel like it—” You scoff.

“Cook me your best dish, then. If I think it’s horrible, then maybe withdrawing is the best decision.”

“I thought you’ve already made it clear that I’m not fit or qualified enough to be a chef—”

“You have sixty minutes.”

“Chef—”

“Your time starts now.”

Before you could protest, Jaehyun turns his back towards you and walks away. You’re trying so hard not to burst out into flames. The urgency to flip him off makes your blood boil. As he takes his seat at the front behind the judges’ table, you bend down to finish packing up your things. Jaehyun seems to pick up that you’re not taking up the challenge.

“You claim that I was discouraging you this entire competition. You said that you have potential. You want to prove me wrong, right?”

You stop in your tracks. You sure do. You want to prove Jaehyun wrong so badly. With a burning passion. When he sees that you’ve stopped, he knows that he’s slowly changing your mind.

“This is your chance to prove me wrong. Prove to me that you deserve to stay in this competition.”

You will yourself back up, fiery eyes meeting him. He knows that he’s turned the gears in your head. After you’ve given it much thought, you decided that if you were going to withdraw from the competition, you might as well show him what kind of aspiring chef they’re going to regret letting go of. You guess it was a pride thing. But you’ve never wanted to prove Jeong Jaehyun wrong so badly until now.

Jaehyun stares at you as you walk away from your station and into the large pantry with all the fresh ingredients. A smirk slowly begins to spread across his lips. You’re grabbing many ingredients from the pantry. There are some questionable pairs but ever since the start of the competition, you’ve always been experimental with your dishes. Surprisingly, they always turn out delicious no matter how ambiguous the ingredients are relative to each other. You finally return to your workstation to begin cooking your dish.

“Fifty-five minutes left,” he yells out to you.

You slightly jump. It’s just the two of you in the kitchen. If you were quite honest, it felt a bit intimate. But you felt a lot of pressure on your shoulders. Here you are, cooking for a world-renowned chef, after voluntarily withdrawing from a competition that he judges for. Here you are, cooking for a world-renowned chef who asked you to cook him a dish to prove him wrong.

A deconstructed pie. That is what you have in mind.

There are two ingredients that you’ve never paired together before; grapefruit and basil. You’re planning on making a deconstructed raspberry and basil pie. The pie will consist of basil jelly and grapefruit curd, topping it all off with Italian meringue.

“What are you making?” Jaehyun asks when he walks up to your station.

“A pie.”

“In an hour?” Jaehyun questions. You slowly nod your head, trying to keep yourself focused on your work. “Pies usually take more than one hour to make.”

“It’s going to be a deconstructed pie. Grapefruit and basil. Instead of using the crust, I’ll be using graham cracker crumbles.” You explain while juicing your grapefruits.

“Grapefruit and basil? Don’t you think that those two together would be a bit… risky?”

You shake your head. “Basil goes well with lots of fruits. I wouldn’t be surprised if basil went well with grapefruit.”

“I’ve tried a grapefruit and basil pie once. I don’t remember where, but it was delicious. I have high expectations for this. Yours will be the second grapefruit and basil pie that I have ever had in my entire life.” He comments. What a way to put the pressure on you. You don’t say anything. “Alright, then I guess—”

“You’re distracting me.” You cut him off. “Do you mind going back to the front and sitting there while I continue doing whatever it is that I need to do?”

“Sassy,” he grins. “Fine. I’ll be up at the front. You have forty-five minutes left.”

Forty-five minutes left to prove yourself. At this point, you’re not trying to prove you are worthy of staying in the competition. You’re trying to prove that you are nothing what Jaehyun thinks of you. You’re trying to prove Jaehyun that you are fit and qualified enough to be a chef and that this is made for you. It is something you love doing. It is your passion.

Jaehyun plops his butt down onto his seat and watches you cook up your dish. You’re making grapefruit zest while making sure the grapefruit curd isn’t being overcooked. He finds himself staring at you with awe.

When Jaehyun met you for the first time, he didn’t like you. You ruined his shirt. His favorite shirt. But another reason why he didn’t like you was because you didn’t look confident enough. When Jaehyun met you for the first time, you were hiding behind the executive chef, too humiliated by your own actions. He saw right through you at that moment. You had an inferiority complex. You were not confident enough in yourself. You were shy. You always doubted yourself. But when his eyes met yours, he saw a fire ignite within them.

When Jaehyun met you for the second time, you weren’t a waitress. You were a line cook. A culinary intern. You ruined his dish. When Jaehyun met you for the second time, he still didn’t like you. It was because after all the months that have passed by, you still don’t look confident enough in yourself. It made him uneasy. But the only difference that time around is that although he still didn’t like you, he knew that eventually, he would, because he saw potential. Leaving the restaurant that day after tasting your subpar dish made him uneasy, knowing that he could’ve done something to lift your spirits up. He knew that he had to do something to make you learn how to be confident in your cooking because that was the first step to making perfect dishes. If you were confident to cook, your dishes would reflect it. When Jaehyun met you for the second time, he realized that he didn’t like you because you reminded him of himself.

When Jaehyun met you for the third time, you were taking a chance at MasterChef. It was a year since the last time he saw you. On your first and second encounters with Jaehyun, the both of you were in Florence. But the third time, the both of you are in Seoul. It almost seemed fated. When Jaehyun boarded the plane in Florence going back to Seoul, he couldn’t get you off his mind. What if he tried to lift you up? What was it that he could’ve done to encourage you? He regretted being cold to you. He knew that if he had just been a bit nicer, a bit more sincere, it would’ve further ignited the flame that was already lit within you. It was like the heavens had heard him and sent you to him for a third time.

He knew this was his third and final chance to make things right.

“Twenty minutes!” He yells.

“I heard you loud and clear, geez.” You place a hand over your heart as you continue your work.

You’re working on your Italian meringue. It was something you learned how to do while you were doing your culinary internship in Florence. Making Italian meringue is completely different from making regular meringue. It requires more precision and accuracy. It requires more attention to detail. If you mess up the meringue, you’re practically messing up the entire dish.

You don’t want that happening. That’s the last thing you want.

While you’re waiting for the sugar water to boil at an ideal temperature, you’re beginning to plate your dish. Gently and slowly, you place a layer of grapefruit curd at the bottom of the bowl. It acts almost like a bed for the basil jelly and Italian meringue. At perfect timing, the sugar water has reached its ideal temperature and you immediately take it off of the stove. You walk over to your stand mixer, turning it on and gradually pouring in the sugar mixture into the egg whites. The egg whites slowly turn into a beautiful meringue. Sweet. Fluffy. Almost like marshmallows. Once you’ve poured the entire sugar mixture, you continue to mix the meringue until the bottom of the bowl runs cold to the touch.

“Fifteen minutes!”

Jaehyun waits for you to say something but nothing comes out. He checks up on you and realizes you’re too focused on placing the meringue into a piping bag. He never knew how pretty someone could look under the harsh light of the stage kitchen. The brightness only highlighted your features that were solely focused on creating the perfect deconstructed pie.

This was a first for Jaehyun—being mesmerized by a contestant under his wing. And as his heart caught on fire, much like the gas stove he used to use when he learned to cook all those years ago, Jaehyun also hoped it would be the last.

Having the chance to see you again is definitely a chance given by fate. The idea that you could be gone from the competition out of your own will absolutely terrifies him. It’s the last thing he wants. He wants you to realize how much talent you have. He wants you to realize that you have a lot of potential. He wants to be close to you. He wants to get to know you more. He’s only been able to do that through your dishes. Lately, it’s been hard to look directly into your eyes because it makes him grow nervous. While you’re the only contestant that’s around his age, he’s never felt more connected to someone until he met you. You most likely feel the complete opposite of him, but this is because he has the tendency to push people away. He pushes you away because he’s scared that once he screws up this chance to make things right, he might not forgive himself. It’ll be all his fault.

“Ten minutes!”

You’re piping the Italian meringue onto the bed of grapefruit curd. After that, you’re slicing up the basil jelly into small cubes. You place the basil jelly cubes on top of the grapefruit curd along the Italian meringue. Lastly, you’re grabbing a handful of graham crumbles and scattering them carefully on top of the Italian meringue, basil jelly cubes, and the grapefruit curd. Your deconstructed pie is almost done. You rummage through the drawers to find a torch. You light the torch on to slightly toast the Italian meringue. You don’t want it to burn, you want a nice toast on the top.

“Five minutes!”

You fix up your dish one last time with roughly four minutes to spare. You slowly head up to the front of the kitchen with your deconstructed pie. Jaehyun meets your gaze and he smiles. Oh, how you wish you could wipe that smile off of his face. Placing the dish right in front of him, you step back for him to taste it.

“Do you mind going through how you prepared this dish?” Jaehyun asks as he opens one of the drawers to pull out a spoon.

You clear your throat. “It is a deconstructed grapefruit and basil pie. It consists of grapefruit curd as a bed layer with basil jelly, graham crumbles, and Italian meringue.”

“Why did you choose to make Italian meringue instead of the usual meringue?” He asks.

“I chose to use Italian meringue for this dish because Italian meringue has a more marshmallowy, soft, fluffy consistency in comparison to ordinary meringue.” You explain. “I think the soft, fluffy texture of Italian meringue fits perfectly with the creamy grapefruit curd and basil jelly.”

“I’m going to take a spoonful of everything.” Jaehyun begins as he scoops a little bit of grapefruit curd mixed with graham crumbles, a single basil jelly, and a single Italian meringue. The both of you meet eyes and he puts the spoon into his mouth.

As he’s taking a moment to savor the flavors, you let your head hang low. You’re expecting him to let out a frustrated sigh. You’re expecting him to come up with the rudest comment on your dish. It’s horrible. It tastes horrible. You’re waiting for those words to come out of his mouth—

“It’s… delicious.”

Your head shoots up. He digs in for another spoonful of your deconstructed pie. “Sorry… what?”

“I said,” he says, “it’s delicious.”

You let out a breathless laugh. Were you hearing things right? Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow at you and you straighten up your posture. “Sorry, I just—this is the first time I’ve ever heard something nice coming from you.”

“It not only tastes delicious but it tastes familiar.” He mumbles softly. “It reminds me of this diner my parents used to take me to after basketball practice. The diner was somewhere near Yonsei University where my parents used to teach. That diner served grapefruit and basil pie. I think I was about twelve or thirteen years old. It’s been a while since I’ve had it but I could still remember it so vividly—”

“Mina’s Place?” You whisper.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows raise with surprise and his face is overcome with realization. Mina’s Place. The reason why he hasn’t been to the diner in a while is because it closed down when he made a visit. It was a sudden shutdown and his family never knew what happened to the owners. They were unique and both of his parents’ favorite place to wind down after a day of teaching culinary students. That diner’s grapefruit and basil pie had inspired him to follow the footsteps of his parents. It was the unusual pairing of basil and fruit that made him curious, it was what drove him to start cooking.

“Yeah… Mina’s Place.” He mumbles softly. “It’s too bad it closed down too soon.”

Your head hangs low again. Mina’s Place was your mother’s product of hardwork and dedication. Your late mother had bought the space and created it into a diner where she was able to cook up whatever she wanted for her guests. It was what made her happy. But when your mother started to grow sick, it was your father that took over the diner in hopes that she would return. But your mother’s health continued to deteriorate until she passed away at an early age of forty-seven. Ever since her passing, the diner wasn’t the same. Your father had decided to sell the diner to a young couple who were looking to start their own restaurant.

Your mother’s best-selling item on the menu was the grapefruit and basil pie. Until this day, you are grateful that she managed to pass the recipe down to you. You had loved and admired your mother’s love for cooking. You would spend most of your days watching her cook. You would ditch everything to learn how to cook, especially from your mother. The deconstructed pie that you had made for Jaehyun is a representation of how much you miss her and how much she inspired you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Jaehyun looks at you confusedly. “Thank you for cherishing my mother’s passion, for cherishing her love of cooking. She would be thrilled to know that there was someone who loved her grapefruit and basil pie.”

“Y-You’re joking,” he shakes his head. “She’s your mother?”

You purse your lips into a tight line, nodding. “We closed down the place because she died of cancer. It didn’t make sense to take on the diner after her passing. My father had no idea how to cook.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry—”

“I decided to study culinary arts because it’s the only thing that reminds me of her. It’s the only thing that brings me closer to her. I also wanted to open up a diner in her honor, to celebrate her life. I think that’s what she truly wanted… to spend most of her life with her family and at the diner.” You chuckle, wiping away a tear that slides down your cheek. “And don’t apologize. You had no idea.”

“But still, I—”

“I’ve decided to stick with my decision regardless of whether you enjoyed my dish or not. I’m going to withdraw from the competition.” You clasp your hands together.

Jaehyun watches you as you carefully take off your apron. You place the apron right next to your dish before bowing to him. “Y/N, no—”

“Thank you for everything, chef. It was an honor cooking for you and I’m glad you enjoyed the pie.”

“Y/N, no, please. Stay here with—” Me. That’s what he wants to say. It almost terrifies him that this is the first thing that crosses his mind. It catches him off guard. He’s never had the urge to let you stay. He’s never been afraid of losing you. He’s never been terrified of slowly realizing your importance and your effect on him. “The other contestants. You’re worthy of the chance. Just like them.”

“I’ve already told the producers—”

“We can always take it back. You can always take it back.” He cuts you off. “Don’t withdraw. You have so many more things to accomplish, to conquer, to show off. You have talent, Y/N. Withdrawing from the competition will be the biggest mistake of your life—”

“Please don’t say all of that if you don’t even mean it—”

“I mean it. Stay.” He’s so close to begging. “Your mother was one of the few driving forces that led me to becoming a chef. If it weren’t for your mother, I probably wouldn’t be standing in front of you right now.”

“You’re lying,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re just making this hard for me.”

“Stay for your mother. I’m sure she would want you to finish the competition regardless of whether you win or not—”

“But you wanted me gone since the first round—” Never. He never wanted you to leave. He wanted you to stay. He wanted to help you. He wanted to encourage you to work hard for your dreams.

“Do it for her. Do it for Mina’s Place.”

You fall silent. For a moment, you could hear your mother’s voice chanting you on. You could hear her giggles and laughter. You could see her bright smile. It makes your eyes glassy. Your eyes trail down towards the pie that you made. As you fixate on the pie, you wipe away a few more tears.

“Yes, chef. I’ll stay.”

“How did you change her mind?”

Taeyong stands next to Jaehyun and watches you as you return your things back into their respective drawers at your station. Taeyong, along with Doyoung, had expected your station to be empty the following morning. But there you were, absolutely present, setting up your station before the next round of the competition begins. Jaehyun shoves his hands into his pockets and watches you intently, not being able to tear his gaze away from you.

“Let’s just say I worked my magic,” he answers softly.

Doyoung glances at his co-judge, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. He follows Jaehyun’s line of sight and it lands on you. Taeyong seems to pick it up as well and a cheeky grin spreads across his lips. Taeyong has worked with Jaehyun for many years. They opened up one three-Michelin starred restaurant in Florence together and they ran the restaurant for many years. From Jaehyun’s inner thoughts to his feelings, Taeyong knows him so well. In fact, Taeyong hasn’t seen Jaehyun like this in so long.

Work has been the main priority for Jaehyun. Taeyong was always trying to get his best friend to loosen up and meet some people while they were in Italy. But Jaehyun was always closed up and always stayed back in the kitchen. It was sad for Taeyong to see his best friend have a lack of social life—moreover, a dating life. Jaehyun’s last relationship was a couple of years ago and it ended on horrible terms. In particular, his breakup happened right before he boarded his flight to Italy. Taeyong knows that it left such a negative impact on his best friend. Jaehyun had promised to never fall in love again after his breakup, devoting his entire life to cooking and being in the kitchen… never leaving it once.

But seeing how Jaehyun looks at you, Taeyong is starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Alright, chefs! We’ll be starting in ten minutes! Relax, grab a drink, and we’ll regroup.” Doyoung announces.

You suck in a deep breath, heading towards the water dispenser to get yourself a cup of water. Taeil follows behind you, grabbing himself a cup of water too. He tilts his head in confusion, analyzing your every move. You seem to notice and when the two of you finally make it up to the balcony that oversees the entire kitchen, you face him.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask.

Taeil shakes his head. “No! No, not at all. I was just—I thought you said you were going to withdraw from the competition.”

You take a swig of your water. “I did. But… I changed my mind. I decided to stay.”

“What changed your mind?” Taeil questions. Everyone’s beginning to gather at the balcony before the new round of the competition begins.

Before you could even answer Taeil’s question, Chef Jaehyun stands in the space between you two. He leans over the railing of the balcony. You and Taeil share a look. You clear your throat, adding a bit more distance between you and Chef Jaehyun. Taeil studies your body language and it’s almost as if he reads your mind. Ah, Chef Jaehyun changed your mind.

“Ah, I see.” Taeil slowly nods his head. “Well, good luck, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll do well in the next round.”

Taeil leaves you and Chef Jaehyun alone to talk with other contestants. You’re looking everywhere but at Chef Jaehyun, busying yourself by the water in your cup.

Jaehyun can’t comprehend what’s going on with him. He can’t find the courage to look at you. But when he does, he can’t seem to breathe because his heartbeat picks up its pace. He clears his throat. “Are you ready for the next round?”

You finally look at him. You straighten up your posture. “Yes, chef.”

“Y/N, no, please. Stay here with—the other contestants. You’re worthy of the chance. Just like them.”

“Don’t withdraw. You have so many more things to accomplish, to conquer, to show off. You have talent, Y/N. Withdrawing from the competition will be the biggest mistake of your life.”

“I mean it. Stay. Your mother was one of the few driving forces that led me to becoming a chef. If it weren’t for your mother, I probably wouldn’t be standing in front of you right now.”

It’s hard to get rid of Chef Jaehyun’s voice out of your head. Whatever happened a couple of nights ago in the kitchen felt a bit too intimate. You were cooking one of your best dishes, a dish that meant a lot to you, for one of the most famous chefs in the world. It was just the two of you in the kitchen. Chef Jaehyun had begged you to stay in the competition. All of those events that night were driving you crazy.

What Chef Jaehyun does next snaps you out of your thoughts. He places his hand on your head and ruffles your hair. Your eyes slightly widen and you freeze. “Good luck.”

When he leaves to speak with the other contestants, you’re left all alone by the balcony with a heart beating so fast. You almost drop your cup of water but you catch yourself just in time. You place a hand over your heart as if it’ll help it stop beating so fast.

There’s been a shift between you and Chef Jaehyun ever since that night.

You’ve always despised Chef Jaehyun. You didn’t even like him to begin with. Not one single bit.

But now… you’re not quite sure anymore.

“There are only two more rounds left in the competition. But this round determines who has a chance to be the next MasterChef. Who will make it to the final round of MasterChef? We shall find out! For today’s challenge, the three of you will be paired up with one of us to cook up a special meal for your own friends.”

There are three contestants left in the competition. Those contestants are you, Taeil, and Seokjin. Each one of you is called up to the front to pick a slip of paper from a box. The chef that’s on your chosen slip of paper will be the chef that you will be paired up to cook with. Whoever you end up with wouldn’t matter because the three of them are perfect in their own way.

Chef Jaehyun is a perfectionist. He’s also competitive. He loves making sure that the food he puts out is more than perfect. It gives him relief and satisfaction knowing that his customers love the food that he makes for them. He’s surely known all over the world for being overly meticulous. He’s also known for running many successful restaurants. He has strong ties with restaurants in Florence. Being paired up with Chef Jaehyun means that you are guaranteed to make a successful dish.

Chef Taeyong is also a perfectionist but not as competitive as Chef Jaehyun. He always makes sure that he thoroughly enjoys the process of cooking. He’s almost like a mother. He cooks for people because he genuinely enjoys doing it. It’s a hobby that he enjoys doing and somehow, it brings him fortune and success. Being paired up with Chef Taeyong means that you’ll not only make a perfect dish, but you’ll also have fun making it and create a story along with it.

Chef Doyoung is not a perfectionist, but he has a great sense of his ingredients. He knows the compatibility of ingredients, which is something every chef wants to have. It’s a trait that is rare to find in chefs. This trait had led him to win MasterChef when he was a contestant. To others, his dishes might be ambiguous but once people try it, they would have never imagined such a dish to work out. Being paired up with Chef Doyoung means that you are willing to take risks that will elevate your dish and bring out uniqueness.

When you open your slip of paper, you almost let out a laugh.

Chef Jaehyun.

Fate loves playing games with you.

“I got Chef Jaehyun,” you hold up your slip of paper. You and Taeil exchange looks.

When your eyes meet Chef Jaehyun’s, he bites back a smile that’s threatening to spread across his lips. The two other chefs can’t seem to hold back their smiles either. You look down, growing too shy with all of the attention on you.

“I got Chef Taeyong.” Taeil shows his slip of paper.

“And that means I got Chef Doyoung.” Seokjin finishes, holding up his slip of paper.

“Perfect. We’ll start in five minutes. During these five minutes, we will all discuss with our partners and plan out our dishes accordingly.” Chef Taeyong announces.

When Chef Jaehyun heads over to your workstation, you can’t seem to compose yourself. Your mind is going insane. You’re not sure if you’re going to end up regretting having Chef Jaehyun as your partner or be grateful that he could help you secure a spot in the finals.

“I’m surprised you’re not sick and tired of me yet,” he mumbles. “It’s just always gonna be you and me, huh?”

“I’m surprised you’re not sick and tired of me yet either,” you shrug your shoulders.

“I guess fate likes the two of us together.” He says, avoiding your gaze.

“I’m sure fate hates me and is punishing me by pairing me up with you.” You mutter underneath your breath.

“I heard that.”

“You were supposed to.”

Working together with Chef Jaehyun is a pain in the ass.

“The sashimi should be cut like this!”

“Yeah, I know! I can see it!”

It’s been non-stop bickering for the past fifteen minutes. There’s forty-five minutes left before you have to send out your dishes to your friends. With the grin planted across Chef Jaehyun’s lips, you’re not sure if he’s doing this for fun or if he’s genuinely being strict and serious.

“You’re in the way.” You nudge him aside to grab the bottle of Japanese mayonnaise. “Do you mind checking on my rolls?”

“They look good—”

“You didn’t even look at them!” You look at him as if he had ten heads.

“I don’t need to look at them to know if they look good or not.” He rolls his California rolls. “You need to be more confident in yourself. Do you think they look good?”

“Of course, because I made them.” You fold your arms.

“Then they look good! You have to trust yourself, Y/N.” He slices through the California roll before rolling each of them into Panko. “I feel like you don’t trust yourself enough.”

Chef Jaehyun’s right. You don’t trust yourself enough. When he notices how silent you’ve gotten, he finally takes a look at your California rolls. He analyzes the contents of your roll before smiling. “It looks perfect to me. You see, I didn’t need to look at them to tell you that they’re good. You put the right amount of crab meat. There’s a balance between the crab meat and rice. The roll is consistent. The rice is sticky enough. It’s perfect, Y/N, stop doubting yourself.”

“Really…?”

“Really. Now, get back to work because we don’t have much time left.”

As the two of you both get back to work, Jaehyun can’t seem to stop himself from smiling. If there was one thing he wanted to do with someone special to him, it was to make a meal together. He learns more about someone through the art of cooking. You’re an expert at baking and inherited those skills from your mother. You know your spices so well that they come to you so naturally. You know how to balance your ingredients. You know when two ingredients work and when it doesn’t.

You’re the complete opposite of him. Jaehyun is an expert at everything but baking. He doesn’t have a great sense of spices and would often plan out his dishes carefully. Making a perfect dish doesn’t come naturally to him. He’s more on the practical side of cooking. Jaehyun thinks you’re the perfect match for him. Whether it be in the kitchen or as someone he’d like to pursue… he’s not sure.

It would be a huge lie if Jaehyun wasn’t attracted to you. He doesn’t know when the switch happened. Maybe he liked you from the start.

It’s almost as if fate had you written in his stars. When Jaehyun had been dumped by his ex-girlfriend right before he boarded his plane to Florence, he was devastated. He was devastated knowing that his ex-girlfriend whom he was planning on proposing to was cheating on him that entire time. He was devastated knowing that he lost one of his few passions; the love of his life. Heartbroken. Closed off. Focus on working. Focus on hustle culture. Never falling in love again. That was Jaehyun’s mindset.

But now that he thinks about it and all the encounters you’ve had with him, meeting you for the first time in Florence must be a fateful encounter. From spilling expensive wine all over his shirt to serving him a horrible dish as a culinary intern, no matter how embarrassing those experiences were, it must be fate. You make him worry about you. You make him think about you a bit too often. He goes out of his way to make sure nothing horrible happens to you. He doesn’t want you to be hurt.

Meeting you may be a special event that has happened in his life.

“Chef? Chef…?”

He snaps out of his thoughts. You’re giving him a funny look.

“You were saying?”

“You have some seaweed on your face, chef.”

“I-I do? Where—”

Before he could even wipe his face with his hands, you’re already reaching up to rub off the seaweed crumbs off of his face. He freezes in his spot. His eyes look down to meet yours. When you finally brush the seaweed crumbs off of his crimson red cheeks, your eyes shift to his. It’s your turn to freeze. Out of instinct, Jaehyun gently holds your arms. He holds you so carefully… almost cautiously. Somehow, he can’t speak. Somehow, everything that surrounds the two of you becomes nothing but white noise. His eyes slowly trail down to your lips.

“You have fifteen minutes left! Fifteen minutes!”

You both are startled, repelling from each other. To calm your unsteady heart, you focus on finishing your last few sushi rolls before you begin plating them. Jaehyun stands more than a meter away from you, not making any sort of conversation with you for the remainder of the fifteen minutes. His heart is beating so fast that he’s afraid you could hear it ramming out of his chest.

It’s all starting to make sense. To him, at least.

He’s slowly—but surely—falling in love with you.

The morning of the final round of MasterChef, you wake up still in disbelief that you’re one step closer to becoming the champion. In the semi-finals, your great teamwork with Chef Jaehyun has secured you a spot in the finals, giving you a bigger chance of winning the entire competition. There’s no backing down for you. The possibility that your dreams can come true is still surreal for you and now you’re willing to put in all the effort to make sure that possibility becomes reality.

As soon as you enter the kitchen, you spot none other than Taeil, who’s already setting up his station. You and Taeil both find it funny how although you’re both closest to each other and have become good friends in the competition, here you both are, competing against each other to become the champion of MasterChef. It’s a friendly competition. You can’t imagine finishing the entire competition with anyone else.

“Hello, chef.” You greet him.

“Good morning, Y/N. Today is the day.” He smiles. “Good luck. Let the MasterChef win.”

Everyone begins to gather around. Your friends and family and Taeil’s friends and family. The three chef judges make their ways to the front after getting their hair and makeup done. The kitchen is set up differently this time around. Instead of the normal rectangular work stations, the station is set up as a circle that surrounds both you and Taeil. The two of you will work on opposite sides of the circle.

As you and Taeil get settled and wait for filming to start, your eyes catch Chef Jaehyun’s. You’re almost surprised and a bit taken aback to catch him already looking at you. He’s dressed up quite nice today. He’s wearing an indigo suit with his hair styled back. He has such prominent eyebrows, you notice, since he’s always had his hair down. He’s… handsome.

And he smiles at you.

Not knowing what to do in return, you flash him a small, timid smile before looking away. In just a few minutes, the final round will begin and your fate will be determined. You spot your father who’s wiping away tears with his handkerchief. Sitting in his arms is a framed picture of your mother. Your eyes slowly tear up but you blink them away.

“We will start in three… two… one… action!”

“Welcome everyone, to the final round of MasterChef.”

“Today, we will find out who is this season’s MasterChef.”

“Will it be Taeil? Or Y/N? We shall find out!”

For the final round of MasterChef, you and Taeil will be cooking up three dishes for the chef judges. The first dish will be the appetizer. Following the first dish is the entree. The third and final dish is the dessert. You and Taeil were given a week to figure out what you’re going to serve the chef judges. You have decided to base your dishes around the theme of apples. All three of your dishes contain apples.

The first round of three begins and you’re cooking up your first dish. For your first dish, you’re creating a scotch quail egg that will rest on top of a bed of parsnips and potatoes. You envision this dish to replicate a bird’s nest, where the bed of parsnips and potatoes act as the nest that protects the scotch quail egg. The scotch quail egg is different, however, because you will incorporate apples into the coating that surrounds it.

“Your time starts now!”

You and Taeil busy yourselves at your own sides of the circle. You’re beginning your dish by boiling a pot of water for your quail eggs. At the same time, you’re bringing out the ground pork and a couple of red gala apples. As you’re cutting the gala apples, you make sure to cut them into cubes to make them stand out in the scotch egg. From the corner of your eye, you can see Chef Jaehyun step off of the stage to head towards you.

“Hello, Y/N.” He greets you as he approaches your side of the station. “What are you making for us?”

“A scotch quail egg,” you mumble.

“With apples?” You hum in reply. “And what are you going to do with the potatoes?”

“I’m going to slice them up to replicate a nest for the quail eggs to rest on.” You answer.

“That seems like a bit of an easy dish, don’t you think?” He purses his lips into a tight line. “Do you think it’ll be enough to impress us?”

“Yes,” you mumble, trying your best not to let him distract you.

“Are you sure your quail eggs are going to be cooked properly? They shouldn’t be—”

“Overcooked, yes, I am very much aware of that, Chef Jaehyun.” You cut him off.

He chuckles. Your ears perk up. “It seems like you don’t want me around. Am I distracting you?”

“Yes,” you answer and everyone around you laughs. “I guess you’ll just have to see what I have planned for you when I serve it to you later.”

“Sounds good. I’m excited to see what you bring to the table, Y/N.” He searches for your eyes, but they’re busy looking at other things. In reality, you’re just too shy to look at him. “Good luck, Y/N.”

“Thanks, chef.”

Returning to your station, you keep the judges’ comments on your appetizer in your thoughts to improve on the next dish. The next dish that you’re going to cook up for them is the entree. Because your appetizer was easy to make, this left you ample time to begin preparing for your entree. You plan to serve the chef judges an entree dish that you call, rabbit two ways, in which you will serve them two different kinds of rabbit meat while incorporating bursts of apple flavors into it. The timer starts and you and Taeil get to work.

“I like how you presented this dish. It looks like a bird’s nest!”

Chef Taeyong’s comments on your dish had given you the motivation and desire to win the competition. From the start of the competition all the way to the final round, Chef Taeyong has been nothing but encouraging and genuine. All of his comments and advice shaped you into who you are as a chef today, at this very moment.

“Although there are some burnt potatoes and parsnips in my dish, I think that it surprisingly complemented the sweet flavors of the apple in the scotch egg.”

Chef Doyoung, a MasterChef champion, is someone you always looked up to. You remember watching the season that he was competing in and having a gut feeling that he would make it to the final round. There was something special about Chef Doyoung and his dishes. Every dish he created had its own story, and of course, it would always look and taste delicious. Hearing his comments throughout your journey in the competition has also helped you learn and create a chef’s mindset.

“I think I would definitely serve something like this as an appetizer at one of my restaurants. The presentation is spot on. I couldn’t have imagined a scotch egg to be presented in any other way. It’s almost as if you’re recreating nature, mother nature I would say, through your dishes. The flavors balance so well, which is not surprising because you’ve always had a good sense of your spices. Very well done, Y/N.”

Chef Jaehyun, although you disliked him at first, has truly been the one who wanted to see you succeed. Ever since he had tried to change your mind about withdrawing from the competition you couldn’t help but think that he was the one who truly liked you and your performance in the competition all along. If he didn’t try to change your mind, you would have probably withdrawn from the competition and returned back to the starting position of your journey. Chef Jaehyun has made you realize that if you truly want something, you have to work extremely hard for it. He made you realize that you’re better than what you think and most of the time, you’re just being hard on yourself. Someday, you plan on thanking him for being tough on you because it helped you on your journey to becoming a chef.

As you heat up the pan on the stove, you slice and dice up your apples to fuse them with the rabbit meat. Placing them onto the pan, you begin creating your artichoke puree that will amplify the flavors of the dish. From time to time, you could check up on the rabbit meat to make sure that you weren’t overcooking it. Overcooking rabbit meat would be horrifying because it would only mean that you would have to cook a new batch in so little time. It is extremely crucial to your dish.

“You have fifteen minutes left!”

You spent the remaining fifteen minutes focusing on the rabbit meat since you have finished making the artichoke puree. After already beginning to plate your dish with the puree, you place the rabbit meat onto a frying rack to drain out the oil. Your hands are shaking out of complete nervousness. You want this so bad. But the fact that you’re serving a dish that you haven’t even tasted is such a huge risk to take.

“Five minutes left!”

Drizzling a bit more of the artichoke puree on top of the rabbit meat, your nervous hands cause you to drizzle a bit more than needed. Pulling out a clean towel, you wipe off some of the puree that scattered on the sides of the dish. Glancing up at the time, you have one minute left to spare. You take these last few seconds to make sure everything looks good before handing them over to the servers.

“Time’s up! Hands up! Servers, please head to the back to serve the dishes.”

The last and final dish you are going to serve the chef judges is dessert. Dessert is your expertise. Everyone is aware that if there was one thing you excelled at as a chef, it would be through your desserts. You would like to thank your mother for exposing you to the world of baking at such a young age. It truly helped you later on in life, especially in this competition. For this dish, you decided to create a dish that represented a fallen apple or an apple that has fallen from an apple tree. The dish is simply an apple panna cotta, but you will be presenting it in such a way that it looks like an apple that has fallen onto the ground. This dish is going to tie up your ‘apple’ series and hopefully help you win the competition.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m back.” Chef Jaehyun smiles as he visits you at your station once again.

You smile back at him. “Hi, Chef Jaehyun. Is there anything I could help you with?”

“You could help me by letting me know what you’re planning on serving us for dessert.” He grins.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out,” you mumble softly.

“Mysterious.” He nods his head as he begins to move on to Taeil’s station. “You’re going to surprise us?”

“Yes, chef.” You reply.

“Well, I hope it’ll be worth the surprise! Good luck, Y/N.”

“Thanks, chef!”

For your dish, you’re not planning on serving them a whole apple. You’re going to recreate the apple by making apple jelly. The apple jelly will be shaped like an apple by pouring the mixture into a silicone tray. Since an apple has seeds in the middle, you are going to toast up some pine nut seeds and place them into the middle of the jelly mixture once it’s set. To recreate the red color of an apple, you are going to place a red glaze all over the jelly. Since this dish is going to replicate a fallen apple, you are going to recreate soil by grinding up a mixture of nuts and raisins. This will act as the bed for the fallen apple. Lastly, you are going to recreate the leaves of the apple tree by using sugar and water, and the twigs of the branches with a sweet dough.

“You have twenty minutes left!”

You pull out your silicone trays and you nearly have a heart attack. The jelly is not completely set but you don’t have much time left to keep it in the fridge. You still have to plate the entire dish. Taking the toasted pine nut seeds off the stove, you place them onto a tray to cool down. One by one, you shove pine nut seeds into the apple jelly. The seeds keep popping back up, which confirms that your apple jelly still isn’t set properly. But with the time you have left, you have to take this risk.

“Ten minutes left!”

You begin plating your dish. To plate your apple-themed dessert, you grab the bowl of fake soil that you created with an assortment of nuts and raisins and scoop out two spoons to create a bed for the fallen apple. After you do that on three plates, you carefully pop out the apple jelly from the silicone tray and place it on top of the soil. Then, to decorate the apple jelly, you stick your fake twigs into the jelly and place sugar leaves on top. As you grab the pot of red glaze, you stop in your tracks.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Chef Jaehyun looking at you as you freeze in your spot. You look deep in thought. Suddenly, you shake your head and place the pot of red glaze back onto the countertop. He tilts his head in confusion.

“Ten seconds left!”

Everyone is beginning to count down and you’re making final touches to your dish. Taeil, on the other hand, already has his hands up to indicate that he’s already done.

“Time’s up! Hands up! Servers, please take the dishes to the back.”

“Alright, Y/N, please tell us what you have served for us.”

Stepping forward, you clear your throat. Each one of them looks at you with anticipation, but it makes you grow even more nervous. You feel more nervous than how you were at the start of the competition. When your eyes meet Chef Jaehyun’s, your mind can’t help but go blank. He gives you an encouraging smile and it’s enough for you to snap back to your senses.

“For dessert, I’ve recreated a fallen apple by making an apple panna cotta. The fallen apple is supported by a bed of soil which is recreated with an assortment of nuts and raisins. To replicate the twigs and leaves of the apple tree, I’ve made a dough for the twigs and used a sugar glaze for the leaves.” You describe your dish. All of their eyebrows raise. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I saw you holding a pot of red glaze earlier and I assumed that you were going to use that to glaze over the apple jelly. But I see that you’ve decided not to use it. Is there a particular reason why you decided to do that?” Chef Jaehyun asks as he’s digging into your dessert by taking a bit of everything onto his spoon.

“I decided not to use red glaze for this dish because I felt like it would look a little bit too fake. I also think that it wouldn’t match the overall colors of the dish.” You explain.

Chef Jaehyun smiles. “I think that was good judgment on your part. If it doesn’t look like it belongs on your dish, then don’t add it. Well done, Y/N.”

“Let’s all dig in.” Chef Doyoung insists.

As they all taste your dish, you nervously fiddle with your fingers. After they have all finished tasting the different components of your dish, they look back up at you.

“I think this is a unique dish, Y/N.” Chef Taeyong begins. He’s the first one to make a comment on your dessert. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The presentation is spot on again. I really like the balance of sweetness from the apple jelly and the richness of the soil. I enjoyed this dish. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, chef.” You mumble.

“I agree with Chef Taeyong.” Chef Doyoung smiles. “I really like how the jelly melts in your mouth and how this is counteracted by the crunchy texture of the nuts. The presentation of the dish is executed very well, it looks like a fallen apple. You’ve done a beautiful job, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much, chef.”

“I agree with all of them.” Chef Jaehyun chuckles. “I see why you decided not to add red glaze to this dish. It would have completely ruined it. I am not one who likes desserts, but this has completely changed it for me. I love how it has the right amount of sweetness. The nuts balance well with the sweetness due to it being so rich in flavor. I would also serve something like this at my restaurant. You’ve come a long way, Y/N. You’ve done an excellent job in finishing up your three-course apple menu.”

“Wow, that means a lot, thank you so much.” You sigh with relief.

“Alright, we’re going to have a bit of a meeting now.” Chef Doyoung chuckles. “The two of you can go back and meet with your family while we go over your dishes and choose this season’s MasterChef.”

“Good luck, Y/N and Taeil.”

“We have finally come to a decision.”

Everyone is gathered near the front of the kitchen. The three judges are standing right in front of you. You and Taeil share glances. Taeil flashes you a huge smile that you mirror back at him. It feels like a dream standing in front of the three chef judges, waiting for them to announce the winner of MasterChef. The journey that you took on this competition is one that you will never forget and one that will change your life forever.

“It was hard to choose a winner for this season’s MasterChef.” Chef Taeyong begins. “Because the two of you have come such a long way since the start of the competition. The two of you have been through tough challenges and elimination tests, but you persevered, and that’s why you’re standing here today.”

“You have both improved and learned a lot since you started your journey here at MasterChef, and your journey continues even after the competition.” Chef Jaehyun clasps his hands together. “I personally think this season is my favorite. This final round has been special. You both served dishes that we have never even seen in the previous seasons of MasterChef. The both of you should be extremely proud of yourselves for making it this far.”

“But we do have to choose one MasterChef winner. The winner will be getting the first prize and a chance to open up their own restaurant or catering service. This will put you out into the field of cuisine and culinary arts, something that we’re all sure that you both came here for.” Chef Doyoung smiles. “Shall we announce the winner?”

“I think we should.” Chef Taeyong chuckles. “It was such a hard decision but…”

“But we have finally chosen this season’s MasterChef.” Chef Doyoung finishes it for him. “Y/N, Taeil, could you please step up to the front?”

You and Taeil head towards the front, hand in hand. Taeil gives your hand a tight, reassuring squeeze. Standing right behind him is his own family. Standing behind you are your relatives and your father, but also your mother, who’s looking down at you from the sky.

“This season’s MasterChef is…”

You close your eyes. Your heart begins to beat faster than horsepower. You would feel like the only woman in the world if you hear your name being called out. Standing right here, with Taeil, in front of three world-renowned chefs, is another reminder of how much you wanted this, why you started this journey, and what you want out of it. It’s not only for you, but for your mother, who would always chase her dreams.

“Congratulations, because you are this season’s MasterChef…”

“Y/N! Congratulations, you are this season’s MasterChef!”

It’s all a blur. Confetti shoots up into the air and falls down like snowflakes. You open your eyes when you feel yourself being attacked by your family with hugs. Taeil’s hand never lets go of yours and he pulls you into a tight, celebratory hug. Your eyes well up with tears.

You can’t believe it.

If only your mother was here to celebrate your win with you. But you’re sure that she’s up in the skies, cheering you on, celebrating your achievement. It’s hard to breathe because it all feels so surreal. When you blink away your tears, your vision becomes clear again and you see the three chef judges coming in to join the big hug. Chef Jaehyun falls within sight and you share gazes.

He flashes you a wide, warm, genuine smile while mouthing ‘congratulations’.

Your heart skips a beat but you pay no attention to it.

You mouth back a ‘thank you, chef’.

AFTER MASTERCHEF.

It’s been a couple of months since you won MasterChef and you’ve been assigned to work alongside Chef Doyoung at one of his new branch locations. You’ve been assigned this job in the meantime while you renovate your new diner that you’ve always wished of running.

If Jaehyun were to be honest, he was quite sad (or should he say, jealous, but he will never admit it) that you were assigned to work with Doyoung. The days after MasterChef have been uneventful and boring. Everywhere he looks, it reminds him of you. Everything he does, it reminds him of you. Stubborn to admit it, he misses it. He misses you.

And so when he steps inside of Doyoung’s new branch location of his restaurant, Doie, he hopes that he could catch you there. Why? Because finding you has been extremely difficult these days.

As he steps into the restaurant, he heads straight to the front desk. The woman working at the front slowly looks up and upon realizing who’s standing right in front of her, her posture straightens.

He flashes her a warm smile. “Is Chef Y/N here?”

“O-Oh! You’re Chef Jaehyun!” She exclaims.

He smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yes, that’s me. I decided to drop by and check this place out. I had only found out that Chef Y/N was assigned to work here in the meantime before the opening of Mina’s Place.”

“Unfortunately, Chef Y/N already left. She left a couple of hours ago to attend to some personal matters.” The woman frowns, spinning a pen in between her fingers.

“Oh, is that so?” He’s trying so hard to hide the disappointment in his eyes. “I guess I was a bit too late.”

“Do you want me to pass a message on to her, chef?” She asks insistently.

“Oh, there’s no need. I guess I’ll just drop by tomorrow.” He says with defeat.

Why is it that it used to be so easy to bump into you? Why is it that it’s become so difficult to bump into you now? Why is it so hard to cross paths with you now? It’s been so easy to find you before. But now, when he tries to find you, he can’t. It’s grown into a difficult game of hide and seek.

“Actually—” Jaehyun begins before cutting himself off. “I’ll be right back.”

He rushes out of the restaurant and spots a flower shop right across the road. Stepping inside of the flower shop, he’s greeted by an elderly woman who’s watering a fresh batch of tulips. She places the pail of water back onto the black and white tiled floor.

“Hello, young man, how can I help you?”

He lets his eyes wander around the shop. He can’t seem to figure out what to get.

“I’ve been wanting to get a bouquet of flowers, but I’m not quite sure which flowers to put together.” He scratches the back of his head.

She giggles sheepishly. “Is it for a young lady that’s taken your interest?”

He’s caught off guard by the question. He lets out a shaky, breathy laugh. There’s no way he could be feeling this way for you. Even if he does feel like you’re someone special to him, it’s something that will take a while for him to understand. Liking you is one thing but falling in love with you is another.

“I—I mean—Yeah, I guess so?” He sounds confused.

She tilts her head. “You guess so? Well, young man, the fact that you’ve stepped foot into my shop to get a lovely lady a bouquet of flowers must mean something. She must be someone special.”

The old woman has a point. He wouldn’t be going out of his way to do all of this for you. He wouldn’t be trying to find you. He wouldn’t have the urge to talk to you, to get to know you more.

“I guess you’re right,” he slowly nods his head when everything slowly becomes clear for him. “Alright. Do you mind putting a bouquet together for a young woman that I’ve taken interest in? I want her to like me just as much as I like her.”

The old woman breaks out into a wide smile.

“Right away, sir.”

When the bouquet of white daisies and red tulips is wrapped and bundled together with a plastic wrap, Jaehyun pays for the old woman’s efforts and time before heading back to the restaurant across the road. But before he leaves the flower shop, the old woman gives him words of encouragement. He gives her two thumbs up and heads back.

The woman standing at the front eyes the bouquet of flowers in his hands when he enters. He places the bouquet on top of the counter. “I’m back.”

“You’re back, indeed.”

“Do you mind giving Y/N these flowers when he comes in tomorrow? You could place them in a vase to keep them fresh too.” He asks.

She nods her head. “Will do, chef.”

“Alright, thank you so much. I’ll head on out now—”

“Chef Jaehyun, are you sure you’re just going to give her the bouquet of flowers without a note?”

Shoot. He turns back around. “You’re right, I didn’t write a note.”

She slides over a stack of sticky notes and her own pen. “Here you go, chef.”

He grabs the stack of sticky notes and walks over to one of the tables for two. He plops his butt down onto one of the chairs and thinks about what to write and what type of note he wants to leave you. To him, it seems like he’s been sitting there for hours. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he’ll have to say them one by one.

To Y/N,

I dropped by Doie in hopes of seeing you. Would love to meet and catch up with you over a cup of coffee. I miss hope that we could get in touch soon. On the back of the note is my number. Hope to hear from you soon.

Jaehyun

“A short video?”

The production team exchanges looks before nodding their head. Jaehyun has been called to have a meeting with one of the food companies that he helps endorse. The company is popular for their gluten-free food products. From gluten-free flour to gluten-free bread, the company most likely carries it. It was the first brand that Jaehyun endorsed mainly because he’s always been picky with his food, especially since his mother’s allergic to gluten.

“Yes! With Chef Y/N! It’s a promotion video for one of the new brands we’re carrying here at the supermarket. We’re planning on having the both of you shop around one of our supermarkets and use the groceries to create a dessert for Valentine’s Day.” One of the PR managers explains.

“Did Chef Y/N agree to do the video?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, she just got back to us this morning. She’s interested in doing the video.” Another PR joins the conversation.

“Great. I’ll do the video.”

Everyone looks at each other weirdly. That was such a fast response. They always had trouble negotiating with Jaehyun mainly because of his busy life. But this time, it was different.

“O-Oh? That’s perfect, chef!”

“When do we start?”

A couple of weeks later, you arrive at a supermarket that’s been closed off to the public until noon. It’s been a while since you last saw Chef Jaehyun. You were quite surprised to hear that he had decided to do the cooking video with you. You were even more surprised when the PR team had told you that the MasterChef viewers had voted for the two of you to collaborate for the video. As for the reasons why the viewers voted for the two of you specifically… you still have no idea.

“Chef Jaehyun will be arriving in a bit, he’s running late because of traffic.” The videographer informs you.

“No worries, I’ll keep myself busy in the meantime.” You smile, heading inside of the supermarket to take a look at the groceries.

You start off in the produce section, trying to see what you can come up with for the video. There are fresh large strawberries that you think would be perfect for chocolate-covered strawberries. After all, you and Chef Jaehyun are supposed to create a dish that would be perfect for Valentine’s Day. You try to look for other alternatives, steering away from doing the basics.

“Miss Y/N? Chef Jaehyun has arrived. He’s just outside of the supermarket.” One of the PR interns approaches you, almost startling you.

“Oh! Yes, alright, I’ll head on over with you right now.” You join her as you both walk back outside of the supermarket.

As you walk through the automatic doors, the first thing you spot is a tall figure standing a few meters away. He’s talking to the videographers and the PR interns who are telling him what they have planned for the video. You hesitantly approach them, mumbling a soft, “hello.”

When Chef Jaehyun turns towards you, you see his eyes slightly widen before a flame ignites within them. For a brief moment, you get lost in his eyes because you find yourself focusing more on trying to steady your fast heartbeat. When you come back to your senses, you’re the first to look away.

He clears his throat and you feel his shoulder brush against yours. “Nice seeing you again, Y/N.”

“Nice seeing you too, chef.” You mumble softly. Why do you feel shy?

“Are the two of you ready to start filming? From the scripts that we sent you, it’s going to be a casual type of video.” The videographer explains. “Just to briefly brush over what we have planned for the video, the two of you will be shopping for groceries that the company carries and sells and you will both cook up a dish together. It will be Valentine’s Day themed.”

The both of you slowly nod. “Are you ready?”

You look up to see Chef Jaehyun already looking down at you. You flash him a small, timid smile. “Ready, chef.”

“Perfect! Let’s start with the filming. Be yourselves and of course, have fun!” The videographer clasps his hands together and he pulls out his camera.

You brace yourself.

It’s going to be a long day, that’s for sure.

“Hello everyone, I’m Chef Jaehyun.”

“And I’m Chef Y/N.”

“And today, we’ll be shopping around for ingredients to cook up a meal that you could cook for your loved ones this Valentine’s Day.”

Chef Jaehyun pushes the cart while you look for some fresh fruits in the produce section. The two of you have agreed to cook two different dishes, a dessert and a main course. Chef Jaehyun will be in charge of the main course dish while you will be in charge of the dessert.

“To spice things up, we have a couple of questions to answer while we shop.” You begin while you’re grabbing a bag of raspberries.

“You’re going to play the couple game!” One of the PR interns says from her script. Your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets. You don’t remember a couple game written in the script. From the surprised look on Chef Jaehyun’s face, you don’t think he remembers it either. “We will give you two options and the both of you will answer on the count of three. Think of it as a compatibility game!”

“C-Couple game? Compatibility game?” Chef Jaehyun chuckles sheepishly.

“First question! Fried chicken or pizza? One… two… three!”

“Chicken.” You both answer in unison.

“Wow, the compatibility is strong right off the bat.” The PR intern giggles. “Next question! Snow or rain? One… two… three!”

“Snow.” You both answer in unison again.

“Wow, this must be fate.” The PR intern swoons. “Third question! Ice cream or cake? One… two… three!”

“Ice cream.” Chef Jaehyun answers.

“Cake.” You answer.

“The last few questions will only get interesting from here. Next question!” The PR exclaims. “Fall in love with your childhood best friend or fall in love with a celebrity! One… two… three!”

“Fall in love with your childhood best friend.” You both answer.

“Interesting. Next question!” The PR continues to read off of her list of questions. “Choose the one who likes me or choose the one I like the most? One… two… three!”

“The one that I like the most.” You both answer. The PR intern grins as if her mission was accomplished successfully.

After all of your horrible encounters with Chef Jaehyun, this was one of the few times that you were actually on the same page as him. The only times that you felt like he was on your side was when he begged you to stay in the competition and when he was your partner for semi-finals. You were slowly starting to forget about cold-hearted Chef Jaehyun, the perfectionist that loved to nitpick every single detail of yours. This side of Chef Jaehyun… is a side that you want to see often.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if you fell in love with him.

“Last question before we let you finish grocery shopping,” the PR intern snaps you out of your thoughts. “What are your ideal types?”

“I like someone who is easy to talk to, someone that I can communicate with without feeling embarrassed. It’s nice to have someone who’s transparent.” Chef Jaehyun is the first to answer the question.

“How about you, Chef Y/N?”

You think about it for a moment. You hum to yourself before shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t think I have an ideal type.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because I think that no matter what you like in a certain person, when you actually fall in love with someone, that person could be completely different.” You explain.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, Y/N.” Chef Jaehyun nudges you.

It’s an odd gesture, coming from him. You bite your lip, nudging him back.

“If there’s a hopeless romantic out of the two of us, it would be you, Chef Jaehyun.”

The PR intern chuckles.

“It would definitely be you, Chef Jaehyun, since you were born on Valentine’s Day!”

At the end of the shoot, you and Chef Jaehyun had insisted on cleaning up the kitchen before leaving the set. You’re busy washing the dishes and he’s busy putting the ingredients back into the cupboards and fridge. From the corner of your eye, you can see Chef Jaehyun leaning against the countertop, watching you. You almost drop the dishes into the sink, catching yourself right in time.

“How have you been?” You hear him ask.

You bite your lip. “I’ve been well, chef. You?”

“Better now that I’ve seen you again.”

You clear your throat, letting out a lighthearted chuckle. “I’m not sure how you want me to react to that, chef.”

“Did you… get them?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Get the…?”

“The flowers…?”

“Flowers…?” You place the dishes back into the hot bath before gasping. “Oh, right! The flowers! Yes, I got them. Thank you, Chef Jaehyun. You didn’t really need to.”

“I wanted to give you a gift since I heard that you’re planning on opening a diner,” he mumbles softly. Is he… blushing?

“It’s true.” You smile. “I’m going to make my mother’s dreams come true.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you.” He flashes you a smile. It’s a different smile. This time, you can feel the genuinity he’s expressing. It feels sincere. “Have you finalized a grand opening date?”

You turn off the faucet and wipe your hands with a towel. As you turn towards Chef Jaehyun, you don’t realize how close he’s been standing to you. You almost stumble back. Gulping nervously, you nod your head. “Sometime in July.”

“I’ll keep my schedules flexible in July, then. I’d love to join you for the grand opening.”

“Oh, you don’t need to, chef. I’m sure you’re busy with other things.”

“If it’s for you, why not?”

The two of you stare at each other. His eyes slowly trail down to your lips. You lick them out of instinct, frozen with your feet glued to the floor. As you fake a cough, he regains his focus and is the first to pull away from you.

“Jaehyun? We have to get going for your next schedule.” His manager calls out to him.

The two of you glance at each other. He gives you a look you can’t seem to read. Jaehyun doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay with you. He wants to spend more time with you. He’s aching to get to know you more. There’s a sense of urgency and neediness.

“You should get going, chef.” You mumble shyly. “Wouldn’t want to be late to your next schedule.”

What Chef Jaehyun does next completely catches you off guard. He ruffles your hair before caressing your cheek with the same hand. With widened and surprised eyes, your heartbeat picks up its pace. He smiles. It feels warm. He feels warm.

“I won’t be able to see you for a while but Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N. You don’t know how happy I am to see you again.”

When Chef Jaehyun’s figure gets smaller and smaller, your heart feels tighter and tighter. You’re not sure how Chef Jaehyun feels about you. But what you’re sure of is that you no longer despise Chef Jaehyun.

You’re slowly falling in love with him.

[NEW] COOK UP HEARTWARMING VALENTINE’S DAY DISHES W/ CHEF JAEHYUN AND MASTERCHEF CHAMPION Y/N 1.2m views | 56k+ likes | two days ago

COMMENTS:

[pinned comment] Chef Jaehyun Official: Happy Valentine’s Day everyone~ #chefjaehyunxYN should we do another video together?

pastrychef_amy21: omg is it just me or does anyone feel like chef jaehyun has a crush on chef y/n?? doggolover312 replied: omg I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE THAT NOTICED. luminescencexx replied: the way he looks at her >> get you a man like chef jaehyun ugh he’s handsome AND he cooks??? perfect package kjhdskjfh

galaxiesandstarsxo: they act like an old married couple sobs i always found their bickering cute since masterchef doggolover312 replied: but doesn’t chef jaehyun have a gf? i swear he did galaxiesandstarsxo replied: i think they broke up a long time ago? they were supposed to get married apparently… but something happened. they even unfollowed each other on socials doggolover312 replied: omg if that’s the case… chef y/n you still have a chance!!

It’s your last day helping out at Doie and it feels bittersweet to be leaving. Here, you close a chapter to open another one. You’ve been helping out in the kitchen at Doie for months, right after you had won MasterChef. The time you were at Doie is something you’ll cherish. But you’re moving on to make bigger moves, making you and your mother’s dreams come true as one of them.

On your last day of work, Chef Taeyong decides to surprise you with a visit. You’re in the middle of cooking up a dish when he arrives and asks you if the two of you could have a chat. You both find yourselves sitting in the loft that’s been closed to customers for the season.

“How have you been?” He asks.

You smile. “I’ve been well, chef. I’ve been enjoying every single day.”

He chuckles. “I can definitely see that you’re enjoying every passing day. You’re a MasterChef, after all.”

You cut right to the chase. “Am I in trouble, chef?”

“No, not at all. Far from it, actually.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to talk to you about something… or should I say, about someone.”

“Who?”

He snorts. “Jaehyun, of course. Have you seen him recently?”

“Yes, chef. We filmed a video together for Valentine’s Day with one of his sponsors—”

“Now that makes sense!” He exclaims. He sighs with relief. “He’s been acting incredibly weird lately. In fact, he’s been acting weird for the longest time, since MasterChef, and it’s been driving me nuts.”

“Chef Jaehyun? Acting weirdly?” You ask confusedly.

“How do I put this?” He sighs. “He likes you, Y/N. You may not think he does and he may not think he does either, but I see it. It’s crystal clear. It’s as clear as day.”

You fold over, bursting out into laughter. It’s the reaction he expected from you. He got the same exact reaction from Jaehyun. Complete disbelief. Complete obliviousness.

“Oh no, chef. I don’t think he likes me—”

“He does, Y/N.” Chef Taeyong cuts you off. “Listen, before his flight to Florence, his ex-girlfriend dumped him because she was cheating on him. Ever since then, Jaehyun has been such a cold-hearted person and worked his ass off. But I always felt that there was something off about him.”

“He got dumped before flying out to Florence?” You purse your lips into a tight line. “Maybe that’s why he was such in a bad mood when I spilled wine all over his shirt—”

“You both met each other before MasterChef?” Chef Taeyong flips out, eyes rounding like saucers. “In Florence, too?!”

“Yes…?”

“Makes sense.” He squints his eyes. “He kept talking about this restaurant, specifically about this waitress who somehow became a culinary intern—”

“That was me—”

“—and how he kind of regretted being so cold and rude to her because he truly saw potential and thought that she needed a boost of confidence—”

“He saw potential in me even back then—”

“—wait, the girl he was talking about was you?!” His jaw drops.

You slowly nod your head. “I was the waitress who spilled wine all over his shirt. I was the culinary intern who messed up his dish. All those horrifying encounters with Chef Jaehyun had led me to think that he absolutely hated me. He was blunt and honest, which made my unconfident self to join MasterChef to prove him wrong.”

“And you did.” Chef Taeyong smiles before it turns into a grin. “But Y/N, you got it all wrong.”

“I got it all wrong? How?”

“Jaehyun never hated you. He never disliked you.” He confesses. “In fact, it’s the complete opposite. Jaehyun’s a weird guy, I know.”

“H-How? I don’t—I don’t understand.” You scratch the back of your neck, face filled with confusion.

“When he told me about a waitress spilling wine all over his shirt, he laughed and said it was like fate was telling him to wake up.” He chuckles. “When he told me about a culinary intern messing up his dish, he couldn’t help but regret being harsh to the intern and wanted to go back but he already had to fly back to Seoul.”

You’ve never really thought of how your encounters with Chef Jaehyun looked through his point of view. Now that Chef Taeyong was laying it all out for you, you were slowly realizing that your low self-esteem and confidence caused you to immediately conclude that he hated you.

“Huh—”

“When you auditioned for MasterChef, Jaehyun actually wanted to say yes. In fact, he was the first one to say yes, but the producers of the show told him to say no to add more drama for the viewers.” He continues. “For your team challenge, Jaehyun was the one who spotted Euntae sabotaging your cake.”

“It was him?” You whisper.

He nods his head. “When we were deciding who to eliminate after your team lost the challenge, Jaehyun was proactive in convincing us to keep you in the competition. You were close to being eliminated but Jaehyun kept telling us that you had potential.”

He saw potential in you. He was persistent in keeping you in the competition. In the end, Chef Jaehyun really cared.

“I—”

“The day after I found out that Jaehyun stopped you from voluntarily withdrawing from the competition, I was curious as to how he managed to make you stay.” He smiles. “But when I looked at him look at you, I had already gotten the answer.”

You fall silent. Chef Jaehyun did everything to make sure that you felt like you were fit to be a chef. But you were just closed minded and immediately shut him down. All of his actions translated into intentions out of hate. You wish you had known, perhaps you would’ve developed a great friendship with him. You’re surprised he’s still coming back into your life to try at being friends with you after being so rude to him.

“I’ve worked with Jaehyun for many years. I know him so well. I can read him like a book. When I saw how Jaehyun looked at you that day, I felt relieved because I’ve never seen him like that for so long.” He places a hand on your shoulder. “If my best friend decides to pursue you, just know that he has good intentions and that it’s a huge step for him, especially after a heart crushing breakup.”

“That is, if he really likes me.”

“Oh trust me, honey, he does.”

Chef Taeyong lets out a sigh. The two of you stand there, looking out at the blue skies that overlook the busy streets of Seoul. Your life may be busy, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else. You’re living out your dreams.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes, chef?”

“The reason why I dropped by was because I wanted to give you this.” He pulls out an envelope from a bag filled with many other identical envelopes.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Can I open it in front of you?”

He hums in reply. “Go ahead.”

As you open the envelope, you pull out a white card. It’s almost as if you could read his mind. As you slowly open the white card, you let out a gasp.

“You’re getting married?!”

THE GRAND OPENING.

It’s been a year since you won MasterChef. It’s also been a year since you started planning to start your own diner in memory of your mother. Mina’s Place. You decided to keep the name because it’s one of the few things that remind you of her. You even made sure the interior and exterior of the diner looked exactly how it did when the diner was still open. From the yellow seats and booths, the use of purple and lavender lighting to the gray tiled floors, you kept everything the same. The only difference is that the diner is located in a different area, right in the middle of busy Seoul.

Today is the grand opening of the diner and you’re expected to serve a large group of customers. PR and advertisement has been your best friend, but your appearance and your win at MasterChef drove the anticipation of the diner’s grand opening even further.

You arrive at the diner at six in the morning to prepare all of the ingredients. From the ingredients to the grapefruit and basil pie to the ingredients for your Korean brisket and kimchi burger, you had prepared them all on your own. It was only until eight that your co-chefs and waiters and waitresses had arrived to prepare for the grand opening. Around eleven-thirty, customers, Instagram influencers and foodies began to show up at the door, forming a long line around the strip.

“Chef Y/N?” One of the waitresses, Luna, pops her head through the door.

You’re crouching down, filling up the mini fridge with cartons of milk. You dust your hands off your apron and you slowly get up. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Someone’s here to see you,” she flashes you a warm smile.

You look at her confusedly. “Are we missing someone on the team? I don’t remember anyone telling me that they were going to drop by—”

“It’s Chef Jaehyun,” Luna bites her lip. She’s biting back a huge smile.

Your eyebrows raise. Confused, you continue to gather yourself. Chef Jaehyun? “S-Sure, you can let him in.”

Luna leaves the kitchen to go fetch Jaehyun and you finish placing all the cartons of milk into the mini fridge. Moments later, you hear footsteps entering the kitchen. You stand back up, bumping your head against the table and groaning in pain. Crouching back down over the floor, you hear footsteps begin to scurry closer to you.

“Oh! Are you okay, Y/N?”

Before your hand touches the sensitive area, you already feel a familiar hand gently rubbing it to soothe the pain. You freeze up in your position, gulping nervously. Suddenly, Chef Jaehyun’s face is right in front of yours. He has a look of concern. Looking back at him with slightly widened eyes, your mind is completely wiped out of thoughts. What is this feeling? You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never felt your heart beat so fast. You’ve never frozen up in front of someone. You’ve never lost your train of thought because of someone.

Seconds later, you clear your throat, pulling yourself away. You’ve finally come back to your senses. “Chef Jaehyun… I had no idea you were planning on dropping by—”

“I wanted to join you in the ribbon ceremony for the grand opening!” He exclaims.

He remembered? He knew it was today? You and Chef Jaehyun have never established some sort of friendship after the competition. You like to think that the both of you have achieved the status of being acquaintances, but definitely not the status of being friends.

“A-Ah,” you mumble softly. “Thanks, chef. You didn’t need to, I feel like it would be a bother and I’m sure you have other plans too—”

You’re not sure when things began to change. You’re not sure when the atmosphere began to shift between you and Chef Jaehyun. It’s almost as if you’re seeing a different person. He’s much brighter, nicer, happier. Why is it making your heart swell? What are his intentions?

“I wouldn’t miss the grand opening to Mina’s Place for anything else,” he says softly. “Hey, Y/N?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“I got you a present to congratulate you on the grand opening of Mina’s Place.”

“A present?” You blurt out. “Oh, no, Chef Jaehyun, you didn’t need to—”

“I wanted to.” He cuts you off. “Let’s go?”

For a brief moment, you see his hand reach out to grab yours but he quickly pulls away upon realization. The two of you are not that close for such skinship. When he realizes it, he looks back up at you with panicked eyes. Was he really going to hold your hand? You clear your throat, tearing your eyes away from his. Instead, you both walk out of the kitchen side by side.

Sitting on one of the light brown hardwood tables is a lavender box wrapped with a thin white ribbon. You glance at Jaehyun as if asking for permission, he gestures to you to go right ahead. Gently untying the ribbon, you take the lid off the box. A small gasp escapes your lips.

Sitting inside the box is an apron, but it’s not your regular apron. The apron looks just like the one in your old family pictures. Yellow with white straps. It’s simple and clean. It’ll show the stains of your hard work. It’ll feel like home.

But when you pull it out, there’s one little difference to the design. There, embroidered in white on the top left corner, reads the words “Mina’s Place.” It looks just like your mother’s handwriting, the original font of the brand, and it makes your eyes well up with tears. For a brief moment, when you hold up the apron, you could imagine your mother standing right before you with it on.

“Chef, I—” You’re having trouble forming the right words to say.

“So she’ll be with you, right above your heart, every step of the way,” Jaehyun pauses for a moment, “Chef.” He gives you a smile so fond, you are again struck with disbelief.

Hearing the word ‘chef’ come from Chef Jaehyun is something you want to hear over and over again. You want it to play through your head like a broken record. Chef Jaehyun has always been hard on you, but you knew that he was only hard on you because he only wanted the best. Chef Jaehyun is always hard on everyone and you failed to notice that. He truly wants the best for the people he works with and most importantly, the people he teaches. Maturing is realizing that you were ignorant of Chef Jaehyun’s true intentions and immediately thought negatively of him because of your past encounters with him.

“D-Do you mind saying that again?”

“I’m proud of how far you’ve come, Chef Y/N. This is only the beginning.”

After a long first day of opening, you and your team of chefs and waiters and waitresses see the last customer out. The grand opening has been such a dream to you. There was a long line that wrapped around the block. The diner was packed with many people. The line never truly saw its end until an hour before closing. When the last customer walks out of the diner after complimenting how delicious their food was, you feel your legs give out and you sigh with relief. Slowly getting back up onto your feet, you head to the back kitchen to congratulate your team.

“And we are officially closed until tomorrow morning!” You exclaim. That is, until you spot a celebratory cake sitting right in front of you on the countertop. Your team of chefs and waiters and waitresses have their phones on and recording your surprised face. “Oh you guys, you shouldn’t have!”

“Congratulations on your grand opening, chef!”

Your eyes scan the kitchen. There’s Luna, a good friend of yours from university who worked as a waitress at a hotel restaurant. She quit her job in a heartbeat after you had offered her to work front of house with a better pay. Standing right next to Luna is Minhyuck, who just graduated from culinary arts college and has been wanting to get into the kitchen as soon as possible. You saw your younger self in him, which is why you hired him on your team. Right next to Minhyuck is Yena, a rookie pastry chef that’s planning on entering MasterChef and figured working with a MasterChef champion would help her. Next to Yena are Wheein and Dohyun, who are line chefs and also your co-culinary interns in Florence. Lastly, there’s Mark and Donghyuck, two best friends and college students who were looking to get jobs as waiters.

“You guys are going to make me cry.” You pout your lips.

“To Mina’s Place!” Mark exclaims.

“To Mina’s Place!” Everyone else exclaims.

You smile, leaning in to blow out the candles. Everyone cheers. But slowly, everyone puts down their phones and stops recording video. You look at them confusedly as they begin to flash you encouraging and cheeky smiles and grins.

“Why are you guys looking at me like that?” You ask.

“Well, would you look at the time, we should get going!” Dohyun looks down at his wristwatch, avoiding your question.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. My mom’s going to kill me!” Wheein is rushing to gather her things.

“Wheein is my carpool driver, so I should get going too.” Yena bites her lip.

One by one, everyone starts to leave the kitchen and the diner. When it’s just you, you slowly turn around to see Chef Jaehyun entering the kitchen. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck nervously. You tilt your head in confusion.

“Y-You’re still here, chef?” You question.

He nods his head. “I wanted to drop by and see your last customer out.”

“O-Oh, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” He smiles. “I was wondering if you could…”

He falls silent, having trouble finding the right words to come out. You stand there, expectantly, waiting for him to finish. The first thing you notice is how red Chef Jaehyun’s ears are becoming. The second thing you notice is how he can’t seem to look directly into your eyes. The third thing you notice is that… Chef Jaehyun has become shy and nervous around you. Have the tables turned?

“If I could…?”

“If you could teach me how to make the grapefruit and basil pie.” He blurts out and it comes out as a jumble of words.

You bite back a smile. “Are you going to steal my recipe and start selling grapefruit and basil pie at your restaurant?”

“Of course not,” he panics. “I would never do that.”

“I’m not sure if I could trust you,” you fold your arms, continuing to tease him. “Jaehyun.”

“I won’t,” he says softly, finally finding the courage to look into your eyes. When it sinks in that you called him by his name, his gaze softens. You feel your heart swell. “I promise. That is, if you promise me one thing too.”

“Of course,” you smile. “What is it?”

“You’ll accompany me to Taeyong’s wedding.”

“I’d love to, in fact, I was invited as well—”

“As my date.” He finishes. You almost choke on your spit.

Is this really happening? Jaehyun looks incredibly nervous. You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling so wide. You slowly nod your head in response.

“I’d love to, Jaehyun.”

THE ‘REAL’ FIRST TIME.

When Jaehyun’s parents pick him up from elementary school, it’s pouring showers outside. But the only thing that lit up the gloomy streets of Seoul was Mina’s Place, a diner that he and his parents would frequent every Friday to reward their efforts for the past week. Both of Jaehyun’s parents are well-known professors at Yonsei University, specifically in the culinary arts program. Jaehyun’s father was a chef alongside famous chefs like Baek Jongwon and Lee Yeonbok. Jaehyun’s mother was a pastry chef who was known for her win at a famous pastry competition back in her days.

And Jaehyun… was a mini chef in the making.

On a gloomy Friday afternoon, Jaehyun and his parents sit in their usual corner of Mina’s Place. A woman seeming to be in her late thirties heads over to their table with a menu. She’s wearing an apron and a chef’s hat.

“Welcome to Mina’s Place, what can I get you started for today?” The woman asks, pulling out her notepad after gently placing the menus down onto the red table.

“Hi Mina, we’d love to have the usual!” Jaehyun’s father exclaims. “That grapefruit and basil pie has never left my mind since the last time we were here.”

“That’s such a relief to hear…” The woman, whom Jaehyun now knows is Mina herself, sighs with relief. She writes it down in the notepad along with his mother’s order. She clicks her pen before stuffing it into the pocket of her yellow apron. “I’ll have your orders ready in a bit. In the meantime, make yourselves at home!”

Jaehyun’s eyes wander around the diner. Although this diner was the place he and his parents would frequent, this diner was extra special for a reason. That reason being that his parents got engaged right in front of the diner while it was owned by different owners. During that time, the diner wasn’t Mina’s Place yet, it was a fast-food restaurant.

Jaehyun’s attention is disrupted when Mina comes back to their table with their orders. His eyes land on the little girl standing right beside her. She has such large innocent eyes. She looks curiously at him. She seems to be somewhere around his age. She’s sporting a mini apron that looks exactly like Mina’s.

“And who is this cute little girl?” He hears his mother ask Mina.

Mina places her hand on the little girl’s shoulder, bringing the little girl closer to her. She cuddles against Mina. “This is my daughter. Her name is Y/N.”

“How old is she?” His mother continues to ask questions out of curiosity.

“She’s ten.” Mina pinches her daughter’s cheek.

“Oh, she’s two years younger than Jaehyun!” His father joins in the conversation. “They could be friends!”

Jaehyun makes eye contact with the little girl. She looks up at her mother before looking at both of his parents. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she looks back at him and sticks out her tongue. He feels taken aback, eyes slightly widening.

“I think they would get along quite well!” Mina smiles. “Doesn’t little Jaehyun want to be a chef when he grows up?”

“He does,” his mother nods her head. “Does Y/N want to be a chef as well? Take after you?”

“She sure does! They could even go to culinary school together! Maybe go to a cooking competition or something!”

Friends? Jaehyun scoffs, sending a glare at the little girl. They have an intense staredown. To the adults, it looks like they’re staring at each other because they have crushes on each other. But in reality, Jaehyun’s having a staredown with the little girl because she provoked him. He pokes his tongue at her in return. Her eyes widen as if she did not expect him to put up a mini fight. They could even go to culinary school together? There’s no way that that’ll happen. Cooking competition? Absolutely no way.

“I think my little daughter here has a crush…”

“Jaehyun, sweetie, isn’t Y/N so pretty? You can’t seem to stop staring at her.”

THE REALIZATION OF (MANY) THINGS.

“That was you?!”

“I can’t believe that was you!”

Sitting by the water fountain, you and Jaehyun talk about your real first encounter with each other when you were kids. From the outside of the reception venue, you can hear the DJ playing a remix of cha cha slide and the guests chanting along. Taeyong’s wedding has been memorable. It was nice to see one of your mentors getting married to the love of his life. Not only that, but you’ve been having a great time with Jaehyun. Since it was getting quite stuffy inside the venue, you and Jaehyun decided to stroll around the garden outside to get some fresh air.

“You know, sometimes I think that we’ve always had fateful encounters.” Jaehyun begins. He’s aching to hold your hand. But he knows that he wants to take things slow and carefully. He’s so in love with you that he doesn’t want to mess this up.

“Fateful encounters? What makes you say that?” You ask.

“I came out of a horrible breakup before flying to Florence to run a restaurant with Taeyong. It was such a huge coincidence to have a beautiful woman spill expensive wine all over my shirt.” He chuckles.

You jokingly glare at him. “It was an accident.”

“I know, I know.” He waves it off. “It was an even more big of a coincidence to have the same beautiful woman serve me a dish at the same restaurant.”

“Makes sense.” You nod your head in agreement. “And then we met again at MasterChef but I was a contestant and you were the judge.”

“You know, when I heard that you were withdrawing from the competition, it was like my entire world was crashing down.” He says softly. “It was like I was reminded of all the times I’ve met you and how I couldn’t let you go. I had a feeling that there must’ve been a reason why I met you after getting dumped by my ex-girlfriend.”

“But you showed me that it’s worth working hard and that it’s worth chasing your dreams.” You smile. “I haven’t thank you yet for that but... thank you, Jaehyun. If it weren’t for you, I would probably fly back out to Florence and pick up another job as a waitress.”

“And yet, I would still look for you.” He confesses. “If somehow you stuck with your decision of withdrawing, I would’ve still looked for you, no matter how far the distance.”

“Really?” You whisper.

He smiles. “Yes. I mean, how could I forget the beautiful woman that spilled expensive wine all over my shirt?”

You playfully slap his arm. “You’re really going to tease me for that for the rest of my life, huh?”

“Of course, if only you allow me to be with you for a long time.” He says and it slowly turns into a soft, shy mumble. “Agh, this is so hard!”

You quirk an eyebrow. He’s turning away from you, throwing a cute little fit. “What’s so hard?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something but I keep getting nervous because you look—” He stops himself. “You look so pretty and whenever I look at you, I lose my train of thought and all of the things I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“What is it that you need to tell me?”

“Our fateful encounters.” He begins to tell you, with his back facing you because he’s too nervous to look at you. “After MasterChef, I did everything I could to find you, to see you, to get to know you more. When Doyoung told me that you were going to be working at his restaurant for a while, I kept visiting in hopes to see you but you weren’t there.”

“You did?”

“Yes, which is why I gave you those flowers!” He exclaims. “And then when we were asked to shoot that Valentine’s Day video, I agreed to do it in a heartbeat when I found out that you were going to be joining the project.”

“Oh...”

“It used to be so easy to look for you because of all of our fateful encounters. But after MasterChef, it’s become a mission to find you. But now that I’ve finally found you again, I knew that I couldn’t let you go no matter what.”

“Jaehyun...” You trail off.

He sucks in a deep breath before slowly turning back around to face you. “Y/N, I hope you know what I’m trying to say, where I’m trying to get at with this... but...”

“But?” You have a feeling you know what he’s going to tell you, but you would rather wait for it to spill past his lips.

“I’m—” He begins before looking down at your feet. His eyebrows raise in shock and he lets out a small gasp. “Oh, you’re wearing them.”

You almost want to curse at your two feet for ruining the moment. You look down at your heels that you’ve chosen to wear to the wedding. It’s the pair of heels that Alessandro had given to you when you broke your heels after tripping over yourself and spilling wine all over Jaehyun.

“These heels? Yeah, I was given—”

“You’re wearing the heels that I gave you.” He cuts you off.

“You were the one who gave these?” You whisper.

His eyes meet yours and he chuckles, nodding his head. “Of course. When you got back up after tripping over, I noticed that your heels broke and so I stopped by one of the shops along the strip to get you a new pair. I think I dropped it off with Alessandro because I was running a bit late to—oof!”

“It was you. It’s always been you. This entire time.” You crush him with a hug. He’s caught off guard and sits there in shock for a brief moment before melting into your embrace.

He slowly pulls away and grabs your hands. “As I was saying...”

“As you were saying...” You continue.

“With all our fateful encounters... with those pair of heels... with all of the times I’ve crossed paths with you, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way in so long.” He continues. “Y/N, I’m so in love with you. I’m already so nervous telling you this right now, especially while holding your hands. I just wanted you to know that I have feelings for you and you could completely reject me, I understand—”

“I’m in love with you too, Jaehyun.”

“Really?” He whispers, still in shock. “You’re giving me a chance?”

“Only if you give me a chance.” You chuckle.

“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me, Y/N.”

“You don’t know how much I want to make you happy, Jaehyun.”

WELCOME TO THE NEW SEASON OF MASTERCHEF.

“For today’s challenge, we will be recreating Y/N’s most famous dish!”

All of the contestants let out gasps when you step onto the stage to join the three chef judges. The judges for the new season of MasterChef remain the same; Chef Taeyong, Chef Jaehyun, and Chef Doyoung. After having them beg you to guest on the show, you decided to give it a shot.

“For today’s challenge, you will be recreating my famous dish of a deconstructed basil and grapefruit pie.” You smile. “To start this challenge, let us all gather around the front so that you could learn how to master your own deconstructed pie!”

You begin by making your way towards the demo station where you will be showing the contestants how to make your famous pie. Everyone joins in and gathers around you to get a glimpse of how to make your famous pie themselves. Standing on the stage a couple of metres behind you are the three judges, you watch you begin your demo.

Jaehyun folds his arms and lets out a happy sigh. Taeyong glances at him and quirks an eyebrow. “I wonder who that beautiful woman is cooking at the demo table over there.”

Taeyong snorts and rolls his eyes. “Jaehyun, that’s your girlfriend.”

Jaehyun chuckles, nodding his head. “Oh right... she is. That’s my girlfriend—actually, my fiance.”

“Your what? Since when? H-How—” Doyoung and Taeyong share shocked looks while Jaehyun digs into the pockets of his jeans to pull out an engagement ring. Your engagement ring, to be exact.

“Since last night.” He holds up your engagement ring in one hand and shows his engagement ring that he’s wearing on his other. “She doesn’t like cooking with her engagement ring so I’m just holding it for her.”

“Dude...” Taeyong clenches his chest.

Jaehyun snorts. “Dude...”

“Wow, I’m really the only one left that’s single, huh?” Doyoung sighs.

The two chefs comfort him by patting his back.

“She’ll come around soon, Doyoung. You just gotta be patient.”

“You never know, she’ll be a chef too!”

“Chef Jaehyun?”

The three of them shift their attention back to the contestants. You’re the one calling out to Jaehyun. He quirks an eyebrow. “Yes, Chef Y/N?”

“A couple of the ladies here are wondering if you’re single,” you chuckle.

Jaehyun shares a knowing look with you. “Well, I hate to disappoint but I just got engaged to the love of my life.”

They let out sad sighs and groans before everyone gets back to learning how to make your famous pie. Taeyong smirks.

“You’re breaking so many hearts right now, Jaehyun.”

💌 author’s note. she’s FINALLY here 😩 again, i apologize for keeping this off for such a long time. i’ve been super busy with school and just life in general. to everyone who’s been super understanding and patient, thank you so much. from the bottom of my heart, i sincerely thank you for waiting for such a long time. i also wanted to thank @sehunniepotwrites for hearing me voice out my frustrations and all of my excitement throughout writing this fic. nikki truly saw all of the emotions that i’ve experienced and gone through while writing chef!jae. i remember always wanting to write a chef!jae fic and bring chef!jae to life, but there was a lot of pressure and the feeling of doubt.. i felt like i had to do it justice and the fear of not writing it to the best of my ability (esp with me being a perfectionist), it was something that held me back from finishing this fic. but i managed to pull through and i realized that it doesn’t matter, what matters is that i enjoyed writing this fic and if that feeling of enjoyment can be felt through those who read it, that’s more than enough for me. but anyways before this gets longer, thank you so much for reading!

and as always, feedback and comments are always appreciated!

taglist (some of the tags didn’t work so if u didn’t get the notif, i’m sorry!): @anya-writes-stuff @swifterauhl @tyongblr @alwaysthefirstsight @doyoungsmovingcastle @pinkyzae @sunshinein17 @jaehyunnie77 @dreamycomets @seventeeneration @srutz @coupsiesluv @nctdom @moonchele @freshprunecowboyapricot @chimmybaek7 @forhaever @ten10vly @fluffyjaes @gyujaehyun @so-showme-ill-shownu @winniet @yipyipmorals

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daegall · 1 year

Text

Lee Donghyuck is definitely drunk.

↳ Sober Donghyuck doesn't have the balls drunk Donghyuck has.

pairing: rival/enemy!hyuck x reader

genre: angst, fluff, crack, college!AU, party!AU, rivals to lovers!AU

warnings: alcohol consumption, pining, much swearing

word count: 5.5k words

a/n: HI GUYS this is actually the long awaited part 2 of the 'is lee donghyuck drunk?' drabble HAHA i didn't expect it to get this long but uh yeah it is now ^^ my writings a bit rusty after a break so i hope that isn't a problem, do enjoy the fic, love u guys ^^

networks/taglist: @neoturtles @knet-bakery @kflixnet @nct-writers @k-radio + @soobin-chois @markhyuckselca @jaehunnyy <3

In freshman year, Lee Donghyuck went to his very first college party, got wasted with his fellow freshman friends Huang Renjun, Lee Jeno, and Na Jaemin, and woke up the next day missing 3 classes. The fact that they were miles away from campus and didn’t have a ride definitely did not help.

Even then, Donghyuck still treasures the memories, keeping them close to him. He has a picture of him and his friends grinning in the bathtub at that very party in his wallet. (he had to pay Johnny Suh 30.000 won to not post the photo on facebook, as they were already completely wrecked.)

Apart from that party, Donghyuck has only been drunk thrice at other parties. He’s usually the driver, so he can’t drink that much. When Jeno takes over, however, Donghyuck goes crazy.

The second party he got drunk at, he ended up filling up a whole bathtub full of milk and cereal and convinced Jaemin to come and eat with him as Renjun took photos of them. Those photos he keeps by his bed. Jaemin is the one who keeps it in his wallet.

The third party he got drunk at, Donghyuck ended up getting the host’s trampoline in the pool, and attempted to have some fun, only to sprain his ankle. The picture Jeno took of him in the ambulance with a drunk smile and a thumbs up is now his lockscreen.

And the last party Donghyuck got drunk at, he made the pretty girl from most of his classes hate him. He doesn’t know how, or why, but all he knows is that whatever he said, made you mad, and made you two rivals now.

Time to add another party in that list, none other than the party he hosted himself.

Donghyuck doesn’t remember much. He remembers meeting you at some point by the couches, bringing you outside, and… kissing you. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t remember much about last night’s party, but he does remember the smell of your perfume, the taste of your lips, your fingers tugging at his hoodie strings to bring him closer.

Everything about you makes Donghyuck completely sober, but at the same time completely wasted, drunk on you. Drunk on the way your eyes shine as they stare into his, the hope that they hold, the small smile on your swollen lips.

Lee Donghyuck remembers some things after that. He remembers frantically getting up, he remembers asking Jeno for a ride to his dorm, he remembers completely shutting himself in his room after that.

Donghyuck remembers that night, he remembers the anxiety sitting at the pit of his stomach, the guilt he feels for leaving you hanging, the regret of kissing you.

There’s no doubt he wanted to kiss you, he’s wanted to since the moment he met you. What stopped that urge, however, was the confusion clouding his mind. Why did he kiss you? Without your consent? Did he even kiss you well? Did you like the kiss? Fuck, wait, do you hate him now?!

What Donghyuck doesn’t know, is that you feel the exact same way. You go back to your dorm heavy hearted, almost heart broken, anxiety hazy in your mind, sick in your stomach, everywhere.

God knows you’ve liked Donghyuck for a while now, after Jeno told you his mistake of making you hate him, of how he regrets it every day and night, how he wishes you two could just be friends.

That night you go to bed with a head full of thoughts as well. Does he regret it? Was it a mistake? Was it a dare? Perhaps he did it for fun. Were your kissing skills just that bad? Shit, does Donghyuck hate you now?!

In the morning, you don’t want to get up.

Neither does Donghyuck.

However, his lucky charms cereal calls out to him, being hungover on an empty stomach sucks.

His breakfast buddy for today is just Jeno, in charge of driving last night, and he senses Donghyuck’s struggles. Donghyuck never plays with his food, especially when it’s lucky charms, and especially when they’re watching TV together on the couch.

“Yo, you good bro?” Jeno mumbles through a mouthful of his food. His eyes leave the daily morning news on the TV to focus on his best friend, who’s clearly way out of it.

Donghyuck hums mindlessly, taking a big bite from his cereal.

“Why are you up so early?”

Donghyuck shrugs, eyes glancing at Jeno, only to land back on his cereal once again.

Jeno grimaces at the lack of responses, placing his bowl of rice and egg on the coffee table. “Jesus Hyuck, just tell me what happened last night,”

Donghyuck sighs, and decides it’s better to tell Jeno than to leave him hanging, he would have some good advice about his situation, right? He clears his throat slowly, gulping, before his arms cross awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

“I, uh, may have kissed Y/n last night.”

The words come out slowly, softly, as if Donghyuck said it any louder, everyone on campus would know.

Jeno’s eyes widen, and he moves his body to face his friends completely. “Hyuck, are you serious? This is great!”

Donghyuck swallows the rest of his cereal, before nodding, "No, yeah, I agree—well, I would agree, if I just hadn't ran away right after."

Officially, this is the worst thing Donghyuck has ever done at a party. Jeno spent a good 20 minutes scolding Donghyuck, repeating the expression of how disappointed he is, when this could have been the very chance to get you to finally like him.

With Jeno's class only 10 minutes away, he had to stop, but didn't leave without telling Donghyuck to talk things out with you and apologize.

It's way easier said than done, he realizes, as the moment he sees you on campus, Donghyuck feels the thumping of his heart in his eardrums, his knuckles growing white and numb as he grips harshly on his backpack straps.

He tries to push away the anxiety and the urge to turn around and run away and wallow in self pity, and somehow it works. The urges are gone the moment Donghyuck takes a step closer to you, who's lining up by the burrito stand to get some lunch, it completely vanishes when you look up and notice him.

Donghyuck's mind his completely blank, mouth hanging lightly, as he makes his way towards you slowly but surely.

Nothing can stop him from thinking you look pretty much perfect right now, grabbing your burrito and swinging your backpack around to stuff your phone in the front pocket, nothing is ever going to stop the heat travelling ever so quickly to his neck, cheeks, nose, just at the sight of you.

This is it, Donghyuck is right in front of you. One of his hands releases its deathly grip on his backpack, as he reaches out a hand to wave at you. On his lips is an awkward, lopsided nervous smile, and despite that, you can still see the genuine happiness and softness in it.

God, why is he suddenly so attractive to you now?

"Hey, Y/n—"

Donghyuck stops in his tracks, his body freezing, and going limp at the same time, as he feels your presence completely brush by him. Not only have you ignored him, you left a slight nudge to his shoulder.

Donghyuck doesn't enjoy the sensations in his stomach because of what had just happened. He feels regret, the regret of even thinking of walking up to you, and the guilt. All the guilt, from all this time. From the moment you met, to every single snarky and very uncalled for comments he's made about you, every teasing and so fucking frustrating smirk he's given you that's visibly made you the slightest bit upset, the kiss last night.

You don't talk to each other for a hot moment.

Even in class, where everyone expects the both of you to go back and forth about a certain topic, both your mouths are shut.

Every time Donghyuck tries to talk to you, you ignore him, or avoid him.

You have a right to ignore him, right? He ran right after the kiss at the party, he had the guts to try and act normal with you, he's clearly trying to play with you, right?

Some part of you begs that whatever you remember from that night is true, that it was Donghyuck's lips on yours, kissing you so tenderly and lovingly, that it was his hands in yours, his skin burning against your own.

Another parts begs of you to not get your hopes too high, you might get hurt more than you'd like to. And what's your problem, suddenly finding him so very cute and attractive and everything just because he kissed you?

What, just because he made the effort of escorting you outside when someone bumped into you, just because he genuinely asked if you were okay, just because his kiss felt way to genuine, now you're gonna like him?

As much as it is hard to admit, yes. Completely. You've fallen head over heels in love with Lee Donghyuck overnight because his tone was not snarky or snobby like you remember it to be, because even when he's supposed to be inside the party, being with the people as the host, he went out of his way just to make sure you were feeling well

, because Donghyuck looked at you so lovingly, because you know exactly what his look was, because you bet you were looking at him the exact same.

The next time you see Donghyuck other than in lecture halls or hallways or the back of your mind, is a christmas party.

Mark Lee’s Christmas party.

Lee Donghyuck and Mark Lee are known for being two peas in a pod, so there’s no doubt he would be at this party. You just didn’t expect him to look… so fucking cute in his rudolph-the-red-nose-raindeer ugly christmas sweater and raindeer ear headband. The glow in his eyes is captivating to you, instantly drawing you to him.

You hope he doesn’t see you. Partly because you have a god awful santa ugly sweater on you, and also the fact that you’re quite literally gawking at how fine he is tonight.

But alas, the night flies away. You spend most of your time talking to your calc friend Shin Ryujin, who’s excited and jumping around telling you how the girl she’s had a crush on for a solid 8 months has finally agreed to go out on a date with her.

You also spend some time talking to Mark Lee as well, catching up on a lot of things as the last time you talked was months ago. He’s telling you and Ryujin about how his songwriting progress is going, when a certain song gets played by DJ Johnny Suh.

It’s none other than Mariah Carey’s ‘All I want for Christmas is You’, a holiday classic, and Mark is not going to let you just sit down on one of the best bops of the century.

As you’re waving your hands up in the air, Ryujin spinning you around with less-than-innocent giggles, you catch just a slight glimpse of Donghyuck. He’s with his usual friends, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, and they’re all grinning and smiling and dancing like there’s no tomorrow.

Though he looks so happy, the moment he opens his eyes, it’s not as bright as you anticipated them to be. There’s a certain darkness, and you suppose it’s because he’s staring straight at you, but you might have been tripping.

After that, no sign of Donghyuck.

Some part of you tells you to go after him, to just be with him and get back your playful fights and bickering and everything because god, you miss him. Another part tells you to stay put because it’s your fault you got in this whole mess. If you hadn’t been a coward and ignored him, maybe you could be talking, maybe you two could be something more.

You don’t know why you brushed by him that morning, you didn’t even mean to bump shoulders with him. You panicked is all, which caused him to think that you may even hate him now, when it’s the complete opposite.

You hope he knows.

Lee Donghyuck has no idea, however.

He thinks you absolutely hate his guts now, completely ignoring him in class, and in a party, and anywhere you two go. He has nowhere else to confront this too, other than his friends.

As always, Jaemin passes him a drink, and Donghyuck accepts it unknowingly, still speaking to Renjun.

“I mean, whatever I did, can’t be that bad… right?”

Jeno grunts and takes the drink from his hands, shaking his head at Jaemin, and they start arguing, as Renjun gives his response. “Hyuck… you ran away. That’s like the douchiest thing you could do.”

“It’s not like I had bad intentions! I panicked and my feet moved on their own, okay?”

“Okay well, you better explain that to Y/n, because you sound like a douche to me, so she probably sees you as a douche too.”

Donghyuck, stressed and shitting his pants of fear and frustration, slumps in his seat, and starts playing with the Christmas lights taped to his sleeves. Though there could be a thousand different things distracting him right now, hundreds he could be focusing on instead of you, (Jaemin wrestling Jeno for no reason) all he can think about is you.

The way you’re wearing the exact same reindeer headband as him, the way you pick on your sweater as you talked to a beaming Ryujin, how happy you looked on the dancefloor as you danced with Mark. Then his thoughts drift off to that very night he kissed you. He relives the scene in his head, he can feel your breath against his lips and your eyes staring into his, but when he opens his eyes, you’re not there. And he has to change that.

Before any of his friends realize, Donghyuck snatches the abandoned bottle of alcohol that Jaemin left on the floor, and takes a big swig of it. Instantly, all his friends freeze, all gaping at Donghyuck.

“You said you were gonna drive home tonight,” Jeno mumbles grumpily.

Donghyuck smiles wryly at him, before taking another sip. “Need some of that liquid luck if I wanna get with the girl.” His words are lightly muffled by the back of his hand wipes across his lips, and albeit that, he still gets it all over his face again as he takes another drink.

And after 3 more gulps, Donghyuck realizes he really isn’t confident enough to get through this. “Actually, I think I’m gonna need a lot of that liquid luck.”

It’s 11pm, you’re in Mark Lee’s room, looking for some painkillers.

Ryujin had a little too much to drink tonight, and she is in Mark Lee’s bathroom, with Mark Lee himself taking care of her as she throws up into his toilet.

Finally finding the pills in Mark’s drawer, you quickly make a beeline towards the bathroom, which is right down the hall.

However, your course to the bathroom is rudely interrupted by someone who bumps into you quite harshly, and to your surprise, they fall right into your arms. The person who had bumped into you was none other than Lee Donghyuck, all with his rosy cheeks and droopy eyes staring up at you.

Well, this seemed familiar.

“Y−Y/n?” Your rival's confused face finally contorts into a very delighted, joyful and drunk smile as he realizes it’s really you. “Y/n!”

“Donghyuck?”

He stands up straight, only to tumble right back into your arms again, but this time, with his arms circling around your waist. His cheek buries snugly into your shoulder, and you can feel Donghyuck’s breath right by your neck, his lips softly brushing against your skin.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you drunk?”

Much to your surprise, he nods against you, his arms tightening. “Yup,”

“Wha—Hyuck, why are you drunk?”

You have the biggest urge to melt right there in that spot, to throw Donghyuck off you, dig your own grave right in front of Mark Lee’s bedroom, and bury yourself for eternity. Another urge you have, is to place a kiss on Donghyuck’s cheek.

Shit, that name. It has Donghyuck's heart spiraling in ecstasy and bliss, a warm feeling blooming from his stomach and disperses in no time. It causes a grin to spread on Donghyuck’s lips at, and before he can stop it, it's spreading to his lips, and they land clumsily, but softly, on the skin of your neck.

It's warm and loving and so very special, especially when Donghyuck starts giggling and mumbling nonsense into your skin. Why is he so adorable now?

You resist the urge.

“Hey, come on, let’s get these pills to Ryujin and Mark, and then we’ll get you some water, okay?”

Donghyuck is alright with anything you say, as long as he gets to hug you and bring you close to him, he’s down for anything.

Mark is confused why you’re taking such a long time, did you maybe come across something life changing in his room, or something? It can’t be that bad, he doesn’t own anything that crazy, after all.

When you arrive, however, he can say it is life changing.

Because who would have guessed that Lee Donghyuck, your rival and sworn enemy, would be clinging on so dearly to you and grinning into the base of your neck?

“Jesus Christ, what happened to him?”

You throw the pills at Mark, to which he catches very easily, “Man, I don’t even know.”

Ryujin's head pops up at the sound of your voice, twisting around to grin and throw her arms up in the air. “Y/n!! Come here babe!”

Even if you wanted to, you are physically unable to, with a human sized koala stuck to your side and never letting you go.

Donghyuck’s nose scrunches at her words, and he sticks his head out at Ryujin to stick out his tongue childishly as well. “No! Y/n is mine!”

They then start yelling at each other, with Donghyuck pulling you closer to him, and Ryujin attempting to crawl to you. Your breath hitches when you feel Donghyuck’s fingers fit clumsily between yours, and he digs his nose into your neck with more yells at Ryujin.

To your luck, Mark grabs Ryujin, before shoving the pill into her mouth, and passes her his bottle of water. “Drink it, or you’re going to get 10 times sicker.” You take your friend’s distraction as a chance to bolt, but with Donghyuck bolting with you as well, of course.

When you reach Mark’s room once again, you practically throw Donghyuck on his bed, but he doesn’t seem to mind, giggling the moment his head meets the pillows.

“Damn it, Hyuck, why did you have to bump into me…”

Donghyuck’s head springs up at the question, the pout on his lips ever so tempting as he messes Mark’s bedsheets up and brings it closer to his body. “What’s wrong with that?”

You can’t help but sigh, and climb onto Mark’s study chair, squeezing your eyes shut.

You can’t completely tell how you feel about this whole situation. You’re glad you can finally interact and talk to Donghyuck, but at the same time you’re so disappointed that it’s while he’s completely batshit drunk. But then again, if the both of you were sober, there’s no doubt you’d turn the other way and run away from each other. Who knows how long it would have lasted like that.

“Fuck dude, I don’t know! Why did you run away after you kissed me?!”

At your question, Donghyuck squirms around, sitting up, before his eyebrows furrow harshly, and he huffs. “I don’t know! I wanted to stay! I wanted to kiss you again and again and again, especially when you looked so f-fucking pretty, but my legs moved my themselves man!”

He looks up at you, his eyes glazed wet with a sort of clarity, lips pursing, and he grabs your wrist to pull you onto the bed with him. You nearly scream at the sudden action, but instead you groan out in pain when the top of your head knocks into Donghyuck’s jaw.

He doesn’t seem to mind it at all, not a single bit, simply rubbing at the spot. He’s too occupied with something, and that is to make things up with you. Donghyuck still feels a little bit tipsy, but he’s gained so much more consciousness than before, and the surge of adrenaline and alcohol in his veins give him more confidence than he would like.

“Y/n, I like you.” He states blankly. There’s an urge in you to refuse to believe it, to save yourself from some sort of rejection or heart break, but another urge to listen and believe and have hope feels so much better to have. You hope you don’t regret it later.

“I like you, so much. So fucking much, Y/n, I cannot express how frustrated I am because of all my actions.” Donghyuck scoffs, cringing at the memory of your falling face when he ran away, how could he be so fucking stupid? “That night, I meant everything. Every word and action, and the kiss, I wanted to kiss you again, I wanted to love you, call you mine and finally be yours after months of wanting to be yours, but I was scared.”

“Look,” Donghyuck’s hands slide to press against yours, observing each and every crevice and line, tracing the tips of his fingers along them, touch so soft you almost melt. “I know what I did was wrong. And I regret every moment spent away from you after that. I’m glad I’m here, drunk, because if I was sober, I’d be thinking about how fucking stupid this could be, but Y/n, I am stupid!” Donghyuck’s eyes reach up to gaze into yours, his emotions sincere and loving. You can feel the weight on both your shoulders lift as he looks at you so longingly, as if you were the reason for every moment he spends alive, every laugh he’s let slip through his lips, every second he spends smiling.

“So fuck sober Donghyuck, he can go screw himself.” You almost want to laugh, agree, but instead you quietly chuckle and look away. When you look back, Donghyuck no longer looks at you longingly. He looks at you, as if he knows you’re going to spend every moment of his life with him, he’s scared to lose you, but knows he won’t. “I love you,” he whispers.

And suddenly, his hands are released from your hands, one reaching behind you, clasping the small of your back, the other by your waist, pulling you closer. His breath grazes against yours, noses bumping, and you swear your eyelashes brush against his own.

And when Donghyuck’s lips finally come connecting with yours, you realize, Lee Donghyuck is sober.

Well, not completely, but mostly.

You can tell by the way his lips barely taste of any alcohol, he barely smells like alcohol. His kisses are slow, tentative, your lips molding on his softly, unlike all the messy and clumsy drunk kisses you’ve shared.

His hands that hold at your waist are gentle and comforting, sliding up and down to ease your tension. Instantly, you do. Your hands finally release from their previously clenched form, and instead find Donghyuck’s sweater, pulling him closer.

With every kiss you share, with every breath he takes from your lungs, with each touch, you know this is real, he’s not lying, and you’re definitely in love with Lee Donghyuck.

It takes a while to pull away, with slightly tipsy Donghyuck still chasing after your lips, pecking the corner of your mouth, your chin, your nose, your cheek, even, and it leaves you laughing with glee. Donghyuck finally halts, only stopping just to lean back and look at you so adoringly, so lovingly, to sit and bask in your presence and listen to your blissful laughter.

God, how much more perfect could you get?

“You’re so pretty,” Donghyuck finally mumbles under his breath. His fingers trail up to tuck your hair behind your ears, fixing your sweater just after. “Absolutely perfect.”

Your heart swells and jolts in giddiness, your stomach churning with butterflies when Donghyuck leans down to leave one last kiss on your jaw. There’s a permanent smile practically glued to your lips, as he flops down on his bed.

And before you can say anything, before you can ask if everything was real, you turn to see that Donghyuck is completely passed out on his bed, quiet breaths slipping from his lips. Your heart sinks and flips both at the same time because of the sight.

It sinks, because you’re worried. What if Donghyuck didn’t mean all this? Yeah, he might be a little sober, but what if there’s a possibility?

Your questions are all debunked a moment after, because of the reason your heart flips. Donghyuck’s arms are still circled around you, fingers curling around yours, before he tugs you to him roughly, causing you to tumble right next to him on the bed. With a content smile, Donghyuck hums, before leaning forward to tangle your legs together, and stuff his face into the side of your face and ear. You try not to laugh at the ticklish sensations, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter, because not only does Donghyuck laugh along instinctively, he enjoys the sounds of your laughter.

And before you know it, you’re out like a light as well.

Donghyuck wakes up with an aching head, his whole body numb and slightly sweaty, hair stuck up in every single direction. He vaguely recognizes the room, but it still takes him a few minutes to realize he's in Mark Lee's room.

Why is he in Mark's room? What did he do last night? Oh god, did he get drunk again?

When Donghyuck attempts to sit up, he instantly tumbles down due to the immense spinning of his mind, and he falls back to the bed. No, yeah, Donghyuck was definitely drunk last night.

He can't remember what happened last night, just a few fragments of memories here and there, but he won't think too much about it. He'd for sure throw up if he forced his brain to work a little more.

But he doesn't really have to force his brain. Not that much. Not when you come walking in with Mark's apron hanging by your neck, a piece of what seems like pancake between your lips.

Clearly, you don't expect to see Donghyuck awake, and neither is he to see you. When he sees you, your surprised eyes, cheeks stuffed with your breakfast, to the breakfast between your teeth, his memory relieves.

Oh my god Lee Donghyuck kissed you last night. Donghyuck is surprised he can remember it, he usually doesn't remember it, but with an event so big, he's sure he's going to think about it every single night.

You quickly gulp down your food, fixing your apron and appearance in front of Donghyuck, "Y−You're awake!" You cough awkwardly, socks shifting against Mark's carpet, "G−Good morning,"

In Donghyuck's opinion, it really is a good morning.

“Hey,” Donghyuck murmurs, looking away from you. Why did you have to look so adorable in your ugly Christmas sweater and Mark’s damn ‘kiss the cook’ apron?! There’s a light heat that travels to his cheeks, and that’s all Donghyuck needs to know that he’s blushing, and there’s no way he can face you without literally melting.

But to you, you see this as a sign of something negative. You’re not sure, maybe regret, or embarrassment, perhaps he was going to tell you last night was a mistake, everything was a mistake.

Donghyuck bunches up all the courage left in his bones, his blood, everything, just to face you with pursed lips, red cheeks, and soft, shy eyes. It’s really all he can muster, along with his words, “Look, about last night—”

“—Did you regret it?”

Instantly, Donghyuck freezes. “What?”

You shift uncomfortably in your spot, squishing yourself into Mark’s bedroom door frame, hoping it would ease the anxiety blooming in your stomach.

Donghyuck’s shyness and worried state flies away in a second, when he sees the worry in yours, and he knows that his shyness and blushing cheeks won’t do anything to you.

“I mean, you were drunk, so you didn’t mean it… right?”

“Y/n,” Donghyuck’s voice is laced with an emotion, an emotion so deep, one you recognize as a bittersweet fondness. “Y/n…” He repeats. Your heart is beating in your ears, your head almost going light, as he beckons you towards him.

With every step you take towards him, Donghyuck can feel his love tenfold, heart swelling at the way you tug awkwardly at your sweater sleeves, falling deeper in love with you when you sit next to him on the bed.

His eyes furrow when he sees the amount of space you put between you two, his hand reaching out to wrap one of his arms around your waist, the other softly seizing your wrists to pull you closer to him.

“If you can’t tell already,” He murmurs as his fingers fit between yours to play with your fingers. “I don’t.”

His gaze leaves your intertwined hands, glancing back up to yours. Finally, they’re bright with hope, love, surprise, they glisten with adornment and relief. His eyes reflect your own emotions.

“I don’t regret it. Not a single bit. If anything, I should be thankful, because god knows I would never even have the balls to talk to you, not after that one party when I ran, and definitely not when my feelings were scaring me so much.”

Donghyuck’s chin rests on your shoulder, the tips of his hair tickling your ear. “But now, I’m sure of my feelings.” He smiles. “I love you, Y/n. I have ever since that day you stole my answer in calculus.”

You snicker, knocking your head on top of Donghyuck’s, your hands tugging at his to fully intertwine them. “That’s funny, I remember you cursing at me at the end of that class.”

“Hey, I was nervous!”

The room is left in an atmosphere full of laughter, love, actual fucking love, and you realize that you are so butt crazy in love with Donghyuck. A moment later, the room is left in a silence, one so comforting that you don’t want to say anything.

Donghyuck’s rumbling stomach says otherwise, and he hides his face shyly into your shoulder.

“Hey, I was making pancakes for you, want some?”

His head suddenly shoots up from your shoulder, and you’re surprised at the tears that quickly form around his eyes.

“Wha—”

“—Can I kiss you?”

Well, that’s one way to have you swooning. “What?! Hyuck, I just made you breakfast!”

“And that’s a very valid reason for me to kiss you. Heck, marry you!”

And when you’re left speechless, your lips slightly gaped, Donghyuck panics a little. He just got you, how could he already freak you out?

However, the way the corner of your lips curl up indicates that you don’t actually hate the idea, and before he can stop himself, Donghyuck is reaching out and connecting your lips into a kiss.

Oh my god, when you kiss him back, it feels like a dream come true. This time, you still taste like the peach lip balm you use, but with a little tinge of peppermint (he suspects from the stash Mark keeps in the kitchen), and he loves every second your lips spend between his.

Your hand creeps up to tangle in his messy bedhead hair, and you smile lightly into the kiss at how messy it feels.

It seems like the both of you want to kiss forever, never let go, after years of pining, and you truly think that situation is happening, but the thought is short lived as the door slams open.

“Hey Y/n, is Hyuck—Jesus christ!”

You both part, but your plan to fly to the other side of the bed is ruined, with Donghyuck’s arms wrapped around you.

Not only is Mark Lee at the door, but Ryujin, awake and very much sober, is there too, cackling on the floor.

“On my bed! My fucking bed!”

Donghyuck merely shrugs, wiping the corner of his lips smugly, “Do you mind? We’re kind of having a moment—” His façade shatters in a moment, when you smack at the back of his head.

“No pancakes for you.”

“Wait, no, I’m sorry!”

So, does that answer the ongoing question of 'is Lee Donghyuck drunk'? Yeah, he's drunk.

Lee Donghyuck may be sober everyday, but he feels drunk in love every time he’s with you. (You cringe at his words as you try to dodge his kisses on your cheeks, shaking your head, “Hyuck, that’s way too corny.”)

465 notes · View notes

ncteez · 1 year

Text

On Edge. (m.l)

Dating the strict, well-liked, and loving Doyoung came with its hurdles. Normally, the two of you could communicate and work through the downsides, but what if the newest downside of the relationship is learning that his little brother, Mark, has a bit of a thing for you?

ao3 | m.list | minors dni !! | if you read it, reblog it.

WORDCOUNT― 22.5k

PAIRING― mark lee x fem reader | doyoung x fem reader

CONTENT― doyoung is 27, reader is 25, mark is 22. boyfriend doyoung, perverted/shy college boy mark, panty stealing, hidden intimacy, needy mark, dom-ish doyoung in smaller/less detailed smut scenes, reader is definitely a switch depending on who she is looking at, uh, brief mention of haechan raging at mark through a headset while he gets pleasured lmao

WARNINGS― infidelity that doesn’t get exposed, foot job but only bc i can’t figure out how to write a scene like this if it’s not her foot lmao

NOTE― not me back at it again with the cheating fics. Idk, i have a thing for mark cucking but also hidden things, and the idea of having both of them :D no, i do not condone cheating.. shoutout to my wife and other ultimate mark fucker @mrkis for discussing and brainstorming this shit with me, also for editing it and fixing all of my embarrassing typos.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― infidelity, rough doyoung, mark listens through the walls, tons of masturbation, he also steals panties and gets caught and embarrassed by reader, mentions of double penetration, lil under the table moment with mark, foot job but i swear im not into feet just hear me out ok? It’s brief i swear, sexting and phone sex, reach-around hand job, mark isn’t entirely subby when he finally gets his dick wet, penetration, pet names, g-spot stimulation, cream pie, unprotected sex,

The two years you’ve spent so far with Doyoung can arguably be considered the best of your life. He’s accommodating, listens to all of your problems, touches you in all of the right ways, and he’s even well-liked by your parents. You love your boyfriend enough to spend countless nights at his place just to get away from your own. It’s comfortable there, and feels like home, whereas your own apartment just feels empty without him.

The relationship felt very adult. He was the first boyfriend to stay with you longer than a couple of months, the first one to have his own house, job, money, and car. The two of you were equal, comfortable, and happily in love. Anyone could trust that both of you were running towards the path of marriage, and you’d agree with them if it wasn’t for the fact that your eye is dangerously landing on someone else lately.

In your defense, your eyes didn’t linger before Mark, Doyoung’s younger brother, moved in. You had no interest in anyone aside from Doyoung. But– Mark is really something else. Cute, loud, obnoxious, and even charming at times. Still, you’ve caught him countless times staring for too long at your legs when you wear shorts around the house, lingering in the room when Doyoung has his lips on yours, and even stuttering through conversations with you after a wild night in the bedroom with his older brother.

It was cute at first, but as the months went on, you started staring at Mark a little more. You’d note that he gets flustered easily but can’t bring himself to leave any given situation that causes such a reaction. He gets hard sometimes too, you can see it, and occasionally you can hear him take care of it too.

The first night you heard it, Doyoung was sound asleep next to you after a long, drawn-out session of putting you in your place(sexually). You were comfortable beside him, listening to his soft snores and finally settling yourself in to close your eyes and sleep too.

It was so silent, the entire house seemed as empty as it always had been outside of you and your boyfriend, except for the fact that Mark is in this house now too. You shoot an eye open at the sound of a muffled moan through the wall. You could tell he tried to prevent it, noticing that it appeared to be choked back almost as quickly as he let it fall from his lips.

You lay there, first attempting to sleep but ultimately falling victim to the thoughts of what Mark must have been doing just a wall over. You felt guilty about the images, imagining how cute he must look tugging at himself and whimpering, frustrated at how he can’t make a sound. Mark knows how thin the walls are, you’re sure of it. Even you and Doyoung have tried to be quieter so Mark doesn’t have to hear it and feel uncomfortable.

The choked-back sounds he was letting out every few minutes only furthered your thoughts into the danger zone. You realized you wanted to watch him. You wanted to help him. As Mark hit his high, you hear his bed frame hit the wall one time, hard. The image of him lying on his back and fucking against his fist was long gone, now images of what position he could have been in for the bed to hit the wall fills your mind. What was he doing?

“Good morning sunshine!” You sing out to your boyfriend when he rounds the corner in a sleepy show of how much he doesn’t want to go to work today. He’s already dressed but you can see the darkened bags under his drooping, half-open eyes.

You don’t often make breakfast for him, not that he minds at all, you just felt guilty about listening in on Mark doing his thing again last night and it’s not something you’re proud of. So yeah, maybe Doyoung gets breakfast every time his little brother jerks off, what of it?

“Thanks, babe,” Doyoung smiles at you weakly, looking at the warm breakfast you place in front of him. “What if I just call in today?” He asks almost immediately after, tearing his eyes from the food and up to you who had begun to fix a part of his hair that he seemed to have missed.

“Up to you, I’ve gotta head back to my place soon though.” You look at him, hands on your hips now as you give him another once-over. “You look tired, maybe you should call out.”

Doyoung takes a moment to think. What would his excuse be to miss work on a Monday morning after already having two days off? He’s sick? That wouldn’t work, he ran into one of his bosses just the night before picking up some groceries. Car trouble? Also wouldn’t work, he used that excuse last time and he swore he took his car to the shop that very day to make sure it was in tip-top shape. Death in the family? That’s just asking for bad karma.

“Ugh,” Doyoung sighs, picking up his fork and picking around the plate. It looks delicious, honestly, but work is the last place he wants to go right now. “How are you so awake? We stayed up so late, are your legs even tired?”

You stop mid-step towards the fridge to grab some juice and turn to look at him.

“Doyoung, my legs are killing me, and it’s your fault.”

He lets out a small laugh, giving himself a gold star for making you come just as hard as he always did. “Yeah, guess it is my fault, isn’t it?” He prods for more compliments.

“That aside, are you going to call out or?”

He shakes his head, taking a bite and trying his best to enjoy this last hour of freedom before a nine-hour workday.

“No, I don’t think I’d have a good excuse today. You’re going home anyway too, I’d just be bored,”

“Umm–” Mark’s voice chimes in as he scuffs into the kitchen with socked feet. He yawns wide and side-eyes you only for a moment before flopping down on the chair next to Doyoung with his legs spread wide. He looks like such a college boy. Looking equally as tired as your boyfriend and hair far messier, you note his side eye. “Are you saying I’m too boring to hang out with?”

You let out a small chuckle at Mark’s words, and Doyoung just groans about it.

“You’re still just as annoying as you’ve always been. I’d rather be wasting away at a desk than sitting here listening to you talk about the exam you’re not studying for.”

“I don’t have exams yet?” Mark protests, looking over Doyoungs food and swiping a piece from his plate. “The semester hasn’t even started.”

“I’m preparing for what’s to come–” Doyoung drones on in a defeated voice.

“Fair,” Mark smiles and looks at you. “So, um, you’re going home today?”

“Yep, gotta go to work too.” You sigh, pointing towards the stove. “Want some food?”

Mark shuffles to his feet to make himself a plate with a small “thank you”, and you can’t help but notice how disappointed he sounds that you’re going home today.

“You’re coming over on Wednesday though, right?” Doyoung asks, sipping the mug of coffee in front of him and finally allowing himself to enjoy the food you’ve graciously made this morning. If he’s gonna have to go to work, the least he can do is feel lucky that he’s not going in on an empty stomach.

“What’s on Wednesday again?” You smile towards your boyfriend’s now narrowing eyes.

“You know what Wednesday is.”

“Hm, no, don’t think I do–” Smiling wider at the way his eyes narrow even further.

“What’s Wednesday?” Mark asks, setting down his plate and taking a bite.

“Yeah, tell him what Wednesday is,” Doyoung says in an annoyed tone, one that you can tell is a joke. He always plays along with your antics.

“I think it’s like, national fork day or something.”

Doyoung brings a hand to his forehead with a laugh. “Fork day? That’s all you can come up with?!”

Mark is just confused, what’s so fucking great about forks anyway?

“I’m joking. It’s our two-year anniversary,”

You hear a spoon clatter to the table and a small cough.

“Ugh-” Mark groans, picking the cutlery up off the table and wiping the crumbs clean. “That’s cool.”

Mark can see the way Doyoung looks at him with his reaction, but it genuinely wasn’t intentional. He just happened to drop his spoon at the wrong time and choke on his food. It wasn’t meant to be as dramatic as it sounded. Also, maybe he’s a little shocked that Doyoung managed to have a girlfriend for this long with how much of a bore he can be at times.

Especially someone like you. Mark feels shy at the very idea of you, not just because he’s heard what you sound like when his brother touches you, but also because you’re just, like, really pretty and it makes his thoughts go in every direction when you speak to him. Even now, just over a small breakfast, he’s disappointed that you have a job too. He’s sad that he can’t spend time in this house with you alone even though he knows well enough that he probably wouldn’t have it in him to approach you. Or does he? Knowing that from time to time, like when he first moved in, there had been some days where you stayed over and did your work-from-home stuff. He wasn’t well acquainted with you back then enough to come out and sit with you, and he’s likely not acquainted enough now either, but that doesn’t change the fact that he kind of wants to be around you without his brother taking note of the small crush he kind of maybe developed by being around you.

Today is expected to be more exciting than your last anniversary. Mostly because it’s marking a second year with Doyoung and solidifying the fact that the two of you have made it this far without any glaring issues that could threaten the relationship. At least, no issues that Doyoung is aware of. You think that these thoughts and images of Mark swimming in your head are a phase. There’s no way you’d ever actually go through with anything involving your boyfriend’s little brother. He’s just kind of cute to see all flustered, even cuter when he tries to hide how he’s feeling regarding you.

Mark isn’t there when you walk through your boyfriend’s door. Unfortunately, neither is Doyoung. Grabbing your phone and checking the time you’re distracted by the glaring text message from your boyfriend that seemed to have been sent some ten minutes ago as you got in your car for the drive over. A little wave of disappointment hits you as you stand alone in the darkened kitchen.

Doie: hey i’m gonna be a little late. Boss got a last minute client today like an hour before closing time so i’m gonna be here at least until 8:30, is that okay?

The disappointment fades away with how good he is at communicating with you. Your last boyfriend who you only dated for like two months always bailed without notice on dates, ghosting you for a full day or two before explaining himself with one of the same excuses Doyoung probably uses to get out of work. You know his job is important to him, and you know the anniversary is important to him. His priority doesn’t always have to be you.

You: Yeah that’s fine. What am i supposed to do for three hours though?I’m already at your place (sparkly eye emoji)

Doyoung was great at texting you back too.

Doie: you could get yourself ready for me to come home ;)

You: for three hours?

Doie: yes???? or you can just go bug mark lol

The silence in the house tells you that Mark isn’t home.

You: he’s not here, i figured he went out to give us some privacy?

Doyoung doesn’t respond for a few minutes, probably because he’s doing something important with his work. By the time you’ve slipped off your shoes and laid against the couch, you get the little ping on your phone.

Doie: Oh, right, he was gonna go meet with some girl he was talking to. I figured he’d chicken out and not go lol, maybe we really will have the house to ourselves tonight ;)

Something inside of you twisted at his message. On one hand, you’re happy that you might get the entire house with your beloved boyfriend tonight, on the other hand, you kind of don’t like the thought of Mark losing the ability to get all flustered around you if he’s got someone else doing it for him. Are you jealous? No, but you’re a little selfish. You always liked when men chased you even if you knew it would lead nowhere, even if they knew it would lead to nowhere. It was harmless fun, but now all of your fun is gonna be ruined. The last thing you want to be hearing is Mark railing some girl in his room while you’re trying to sleep.

You: oh yeah? lets hope we don’t have to be quiet tonight then, i have //plans//

Doie: plans?

You: better do well on your work so you can come home and see <3

With that, you set your phone down and reach for the remote. Mark is out with a girl right now? Part of you wonders how he’s navigating it, or if the girl is actually into him. The images in your head are amusing until you realize that you’re not imagining him stumbling over himself with some faceless girl. You’re imagining yourself as the girl he’s out with.

Still, even on your anniversary, you’re bored and you’ve got some hours to kill. You sort through all sorts of images in your head. From what Mark would do if you were to reject him to what he would do if you didn’t reject him. How he would act if you were leaning in to kiss him, or how he would react if you kissed his neck, started touching his stomach, trailing your hands down– straight until you’re assuming that Mark must be getting a hand job somewhere right now. A little disappointed that it’s not you, you laugh at yourself.

Silly thoughts like these are normal, and you’re sure Doyoung has them too. Despite the fact that you’d be weirded out if it were about your little sister if you had one. You’re not hurting anyone passing the time and thinking about how things would go with Mark. Surely not. Doyoung was never shy toward you. Always shooting his shot in charming and convincing ways that have managed to lead to a two-year relationship that’s still going strong. He didn’t leave as much to the imagination at the beginning of your relationship, nor does he now. You can’t even imagine Doyoung being insecure or lacking confidence in anything he does, but then there’s Mark. The little brother appears to live in the shadow of Doyoung. From Mark attending college for the same thing to wanting the same woman that Doyoung is in love with.

Are you too full of yourself for chuckling about that? Laughing at the fact that he’s so entirely different from your boyfriend but that’s the exact reason you find yourself fantasizing about the ‘what if’s’ with him? Now the thought of what Mark would do if he knew you were thinking about him this way infiltrates your mind. Would he panic? Surely. Would he blush? Oh yeah, for sure. Would he try to play it off as a joke until realizing you’re serious, visibly shivering as you watch him imagine? Oh– would he tell Doyoung? Would he get cocky? So many thoughts that are both scary, cute, and…hot.

You look at the clock on your phone again and realize how slowly the time is passing. Mark’s out getting tugged at by some girl, Doyoung is at work being an obedient employee, and what are you doing? Sitting on the couch in a daze as if you’ve just smoked the biggest blunt full of the most high-quality weed.

Glancing around a bit, you shake your head at a specific thought. Mark’s room.

Against your better judgment and several hours on hand to spend, you find yourself in Mark’s room. You didn’t know why your legs carried you here, but then again you kind of did. Curiosity. You didn’t really plan on snooping or anything, you just kind of wanted to see how he lives when he’s by himself. You wanted to see if he made his bed or folded his clothes, and when you note that the loser definitely does not do either of those things, a flash of pastel blue is catching your attention.

In the mess of Mark’s room, monochrome colors of black and grey come through the most. From sweatpants to band t-shirts, you weren’t expecting to see a glimmer of pastel silk peeking from under one of his pillows.

It wouldn’t have caught your attention if it wasn’t for the fact that you recognize the color and even remember the day you purchased them. Those are your panties stuffed under Mark’s pillow.

You find yourself smirking in an evil kind of way as you make your way toward the dainty fabric and pull it from the pillow. You can confirm it now, they’re yours, and you remember wearing them just the past weekend you were over. It was normal for you to leave some of your laundry at Doyoung’s place after staying the weekend, it’s not like you weren’t here multiple times a week or anything.

Mark must have taken them from the laundry basket in the bathroom. The thought of him that morning when you made breakfast, acting as casual and normal as ever. The harsher thought of how you listened to him again after Doyoung had fallen asleep the night before, furiously reaching his climax.

You spread the fabric against your fingers and laugh at the stain on them. This must have been what he was using that night, thinking of you, surely, right? God, Doyoung would kill him if he found out.

And just as you go to look around to see if he’s stolen more of your intimate wares, you hear the front door open, and you panic, shoving the panties into your back pocket and rushing out of his room to the bathroom just across the hallway.

In your slight panic, you manage to stand by the bathroom door and listen to the footsteps coming down the hallway. It’s definitely Mark because Doyoung would have called you to let you know he was coming home. Checking the clock again, it’s barely six and you’ve now got two or so hours pretending that you didn’t just find your panties in Mark’s room. Or, maybe, you don’t have to pretend. Maybe you can just fluster and embarrass him more now.

You reach over and flush the toilet and then step to the sink to actually wash your hands because you definitely were just handling cum-stained panties, and then you step out of the bathroom acting surprised that he’s here.

“Oh!” You exclaim, stepping out of the bathroom and looking directly at Mark through his bedroom door as he’s in the middle of throwing himself against the bed in frustration. “Hey, didn’t think you’d be here today?”

Mark nearly jumps out of his skin despite knowing someone was in the bathroom. He wasn’t expecting to be addressed by you or Doyoung today.

“Yeah, me neither.” He groans, throwing his hand over his face. “You scared the fuck outta me–”

“Aw, why so nervous?” You ask, taking a step forward and leaning against the doorframe to his room, crossing your arms. “Doyoung said you were on a date or something,”

Mark groans again, lifting his back from the mattress to sit up and shaking his head in defeat. The fact that you’re talking to him right now only makes him feel worse. He’s embarrassed enough by the happenings of the past hour or so, now he has to sit here and answer your questions about it?

“Yeah, I was supposed to be but she ended up just using me as a ploy.”

You only chuckle because of course that’s the type of shit that’ll happen to him, but also like, you’re kind of glad the date wasn’t a date, even if he didn’t know it.

“A ploy?”

“Turns out, she was just trying to make some guy jealous. He literally served us. ”

“Oh yeah? Then what happened?” You question, prying now.

“When he was coming up to the table, she told me to kiss her so I did. Then as soon as he walked away, she was back on her phone and texting. She accidentally texted me I guess, saying that ‘the plan is working, he’s definitely jealous’.” Mark mocks the text message in a whiny voice.

You laugh a little louder this time, eyes darting to the pillow he had your panties tucked under.

“Why are you laughing? I am miserable.” Mark is casual when he talks about it, but you note that he lets out a small chuckle too. “Why would someone even use me to make a guy jealous?”

You freeze for a second. Here’s your first opening.

“Because you’re cute?”

Mark freezes now too, glancing away from you with what you think is that shyness you’d seen so much before. It was definitely shyness. Out of everything that’s just happened, at least you think he’s cute, but it’s not like he can have you or actually use your compliment as an ego boost considering you’re dating his big brother.

“Anyway,” You offer an out, noting his avoidance a little more now that you know what he’s been doing in his free time with your personal items. “Doyoung will be home later for our anniversary, sorry for what you’re gonna hear later–”

Second opening.

“I know it’s weird to ask but I left a cute pair of panties last time I was here. They’re his favorite. I can’t find them.”

Mark stands to his feet quickly and casually throws his jacket over the pillow you had pulled them from earlier. Upon the very mention of your panties, he feels caught like he’s got three shining spotlights directed at him to tell you he stole them.

“I don’t know, what color were they?” He awkwardly asks, trying to avoid looking at you, not even questioning that you’re asking him when you’ve never so much as asked what he does in his free time. He can’t even tell that he’s telling on himself right now.

“Light blue, silk.” You deadpan, looking at him.

“Oh, I might have seen them in the laundry. I’ll go look.”

Before you can even protest, Mark is shuffling past you and rushing towards the laundry room. You follow behind him casually, not in the slightest bit of a hurry.

“I already checked in here. The dirty laundry too.”

“Did you check Doyoung’s drawers? He did laundry yesterday, they’re probably in there.”

Mark is talking so fast that it’s almost sad. Still, it’s fun.

“Smart boy.” You compliment with a finger in the air, walking towards Doyoung’s room just to see what Mark would do next when you tell him they’re not there.

You lazily look through all of your panties stuffed into Doyoung’s drawers and head back out to Mark’s room. Quietly, you peek around the door and only laugh at him when you see his pillow is overturned and he’s digging through a clothes pile in the corner of his room on the floor. The fact that he didn’t even close his door is hilarious, but you imagine it was an afterthought considering time was against him.

“Did you find them?” You ask, watching him nervously stop searching and stay in place on the floor facing away from you. You could practically tell the cold sweat that hit him.

“N-no.” He says quickly. “Did you?”

“Yep.” You say, pulling the panties out of your pocket.

Mark relaxes, choosing to believe that somehow, the panties he had tucked under his pillow managed to walk themselves to the laundry room, step into the washer, then the dryer, and then place themselves neatly into Doyoung’s drawer. Never will he let himself think that you found them, or even worse, Doyoung.

When his shoulders relax and he turns to look at you, you see him stiffen up just as much as before when you swing the panties around your finger, stopping to present them in a way that shows the massive cum stain.

“Guess Doyoung needs to find a new favorite, huh?” You joke, tossing them onto Mark’s bed and walking away.

As you walk down the hallway with a smile on your face you can hear Mark’s frantic footsteps rush up behind you.

“Wait! It’s not–” He tries to explain the situation away. “It’s not what it looks like!”

“My panties under your pillow aren't what it looks like?” You turn to face him at the end of the hallway, and with the way he was quickly following you, he runs directly into you and has to stumble back from the close proximity of you in front of him. He’s never even touched you before. Never hugged you, prodded you, or even looked at you for too long when your eyes were already on him.

“No,” He goes to say, but you interrupt him.

“Mark, you’re lucky it was me who found them and not your brother.”

“I know,” Mark stutters out, looking to the floor. “But really, I didn’t mean to-”

“If you didn’t mean for me to find them, you should have stuffed them further back. They were hanging out for anyone to see, Mark.”

He stops for a moment. You’re telling him how he should have hidden them?

“Wait–”

Only now does Mark realize your comment of Doyoung needing to find a new favorite pair of underwear before you toss them back on his bed. He’s gotta be thinking too positively to imagine you’re giving him the panties and offering tips on how to keep them from Doyoung, right? Like you only gave them back because you’re disgusted by him, right?

“Really, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I took them.”

And admittance. You feel like you’ve won the game, and you’re definitely in the position to ask more questions.

“Why did you take them in the first place?” You ask, taking a step towards him to make him feel overwhelmed.

Mark takes another step back, feeling frozen when his eyes glance up at yours. He can’t pull his eyes away this time with the way you’re looking at him. There’s a smirk against your lips and he can’t sense a single bit of anger. Cautiously, he tries to make another excuse.

“I don’t know why.” He deadpans, staring down at you as you look at him and take another step forward.

“I think we both know why you stole them.” You smile wider, lifting slightly to where you’re just inches from his face. “Did you think of me?”

“Yeah,” He sighs out, somewhat lost in your gaze as if he has managed to become hypnotized by the way you’re speaking with him. Then he shakes himself out of it, taking a step back with a muttered out string of “I mean, no!”

You close in against him just as you did before, not allowing him to escape the hold you have on him. You’re just as close as you were before he stepped back, and you continue.

“You did? Do you listen in on what Doyoung does to me too?”

Mark takes another step back, this time knowing full well that you’ll just follow him again. And you do, practically walking him back through the hallway and against the wall after passing his room.

“I mean,” He admits. “Sometimes.”

You smile as he tries to back himself up further against the wall.

“Why not all the time?” You follow up, watching the way his lip quivers a bit from the nervousness within him. Unbearably cute is what Mark is at this moment, trapped and caught.

“You guys get too quiet, I guess?” He answers as if it’s his own question, wondering if it’s what you want to hear. His belly is doing flips though, admitting these things to you and feeling as if you’ll make fun of him, mock him, tell on him.

“You’re too quiet sometimes too.” You smile before backing away and turning to walk back toward the end of the hallway.

Mark hangs his head wondering what the fuck just happened and if you were actually implying certain things toward him. He can barely bring himself to care that you hear him masturbate. He tries to be quiet, honestly, he does. But it’s hard sometimes when he’s rubbing his cock against the silk of the panties you just gave back to him, even harder when he’s hearing you through the walls and he imagines if you’d make the same sounds for him.

Pulled from his thoughts, he hears you turn the volume up on the tv before shouting at him.

“Oh, and Mark?” You say, waiting for him to respond quietly from out of view.

“Yeah?” He responds as he makes his way back to his room.

“I’ll make sure to be louder tonight.”

Mark closes his bedroom door feeling like his body is on fire and like his mind is spiraling into a place where it shouldn’t be.

When Doyoung got home, Mark made it his mission to not step foot out of his bedroom until the two of you were passed out. Thankfully, he had taken a quick bathroom break while also trying to avoid letting you hear that he left his room right before Doyoung came back.

Mark almost feels like prey right now, but he’s entirely too confused about the entire situation. He tried to be a good person and not fantasize about his brother’s girlfriend by making a tinder profile, but even now as he scrolls through all of the pretty faces, he knows that none of them would just let him steal their panties like you did. Not that it’s a hobby of his or anything, he saw your panties and he took the chance to give him a better orgasm next time around. Now he’s kind of obsessed with the idea though.

He had already placed the panties back under his pillow and stuffed them further back by now, and hearing you and Doyoung in the living room doing couple-things didn’t really help the confusion in his head. If you’re in there all lovey-dovey with his brother, why did you get up so close to him earlier? Why did you offer to be louder for him? Why did you do any of what you did?

It felt wrong that everything just made him want you more. Before, he was just being a horny guy, but now he’s like, maybe only horny for you.

Maybe it’s just a phase, surely it’ll pass. He loves his brother.. Then he finds himself questioning if that’s the truth as the night goes on.

Jealousy is a hateful demon. When he hears the shuffling into Doyoung’s room and the giggles coming from both of you, Mark almost wants to hit someone. Why can’t he have that? Why does Doyoung always get to experience the good things in life?

Not only was Mark used by some pretty girl today, he is now being shown yet again what he can’t have and will probably never have. The jealousy is only worse now, as he faceplants into his pillow and considers moving back in with his parents so that way he can stop wanting what his brother has.

The consideration is furthered when he grows frustrated at the sounds of you through the wall. He can even hear Doyoung shush you a few times. Against Mark’s will, his cock starts to grow against the mattress and his thigh, fingers now tucking further under the pillow to find those silk panties that caused his ultimate demise today.

When he runs his fingers along the fabric, still tucked beneath the pillow, he whines to himself at how pathetic it is for him to keep doing this. Only when he realizes that you’re over there being fucked and being loud specifically for him to hear does he pull them out and roll over onto his back.

All confusion and worry is left behind now as he replaces those anxieties with the idea of you grinding against him while wearing these panties. He thinks about how you like it, how you move your body, what you’d do with your hands.

His cock twitches to be free just a few moments later and he doesn’t think twice about lowering his sweatpants and staring down at himself. He sighs in defeat, noting how much harder he is now compared to the nights before when he weakly worked himself up to the faint sounds of you

From across the wall though, you’re enjoying yourself far too much. Mark kind of falls into the back of your guilty mind as your boyfriend loves on you. Doyoung came home excited, a hand was on you the entire time from the moment he walked through the door until now. Both hands are on you now as he praises you and pries your legs open. Usually, Doyoung was rougher. He’d do things that drive you insane, edge you, and deny you pleasure over and over again until he felt it was time to let you let go. The added attempts to be silent only made it more fun for your boyfriend, gagging you with his cock, fingers, or even your own panties. Tonight was a little different considering it marks the two-year anniversary of his relationship with you.

The plan you had for Doyoung tonight was for him to use a new toy on you that you’d bought in secret. He always wanted to try double penetration with you but was never willing to share you, and you don’t mind. You still wanted to fulfill one of his fantasies though, and that’s what the intention was. To your surprise though, Doyoung leaves the toy still in its package on the table and has been eating you out for a solid twenty minutes already.

He’s focusing on you entirely at this moment and it’s got your head spinning with the way his wet tongue flicks your clit while his lips envelop the entire bud. He’s so good at it, and usually only does this when you’ve been extra good for him like if you willingly choke on his entire length or you let him overstimulate you to the point that getting head from him is painful.

His head is between your legs lapping away and all you can do is groan out for him, enjoying the way he’s being gentle and pointed with his tongue. His hands go from your legs to keep them from crushing his head to reaching up to massage your tits. He doesn’t even try to silence you, and you’re thankful to keep your promise to Mark despite not actually trying to right now. And when Doyoung pulls his head back for a breath, he looks up at you and smiles in such a genuine way that it has your heart crashing with the amount of love you have for him.

Doyoung loses patience with giving you head after the thirty-minute mark. He wanted to make you come this way and make it last as long as possible, but now he’s feeling neglected and the image of you with that toy you got for him to use is burning images in his mind the more he hears you moan for him.

“Changed my mind,” Doyoung speaks out as he pulls back from your core and abandons your clit entirely. He hears you whimper at the loss of pressure and always loved the way you sounded when you did it. He finds himself reaching for the toy a little quicker than he already was.

“Play with yourself while I get this ready,” He smiles at you, giving you a quick kiss to the forehead before fumbling with the box.

The fact that Mark could hear his brother tell you to play with yourself made him feel insane. Only because of the way you started moaning again and gave him more to think about. The thought of walking in on you one day with your fingers inside of yourself, not quite reaching where you want them to, asking him to take over for you.

Mark almost wants to put his ear to the wall and takes a moment to ask himself why he wouldn’t do that anyway. He wants to hear you.

Cock still in hand and tangled against your panties, he shuffles to his feet and presses his ear against the wall. You sound much more clear now, He chokes back his own moan, knowing you’d probably hear it more clearly too considering how loud he is. Knowing you could hear him means Doyoung would also hear him, so he tries his best to hold it back as he starts thrusting himself against the silk in his hand.

He did well until he heard a choked-out whimper, a slap, and some crude words coming from his brother’s lips. On any other day of listening in, his hard-on would instantly go down hearing his brother but what he says to you through these thin as fuck walls has Mark choking back his own whimper.

“You like being stuffed with two?” Mark heard at first, followed by another whimper from you. “You’re so wet, it slid right in beside me–”

Mark can’t even imagine what’s being done to you right now but he can tell you’re loving it in the way your whimpers turn to full-fledged moans that he’s never heard before.

“Oh, fuck–” Mark groans out towards himself, looking down at his painfully hard cock against your panties. He starts to move his hand this time, faster than what his hips were doing. Only part of him is trying to match the sounds of skin slapping skin, moving his hand much faster than what he’s hearing happen to you. He’s sure you’d moan like that for him too. Wouldn’t even need two to make you be so loud, surely.

And then he’s starting to shake, rolling his head a bit to where his forehead is against the wall. Shamelessly, he whispers his own words to you as he begins to release against your panties. Words of, ‘yeah, you like that?’ and “Better than him, right?”

When Mark backs away from the wall, allowing the muffled sound of your loud moaning to be further and further from his ear, he collapses on his bed in a deep breath and then trails his eyes back over towards the wall. You’re right there. You know exactly what he was doing in here but now he can’t tell if you were actually being loud because you told him you would, or if it’s because Doyoung really is that good.

The jealousy hits again. It isn’t fair.

It’s been days since your anniversary and now that work is finished, you get to head back over for your regular weekend with Doyoung. Except you wonder how awkward it’s going to be. The soreness between your legs has gotten better but the guilt of how Mark avoided you the next morning got worse.

You think you should leave it be, you should just let him have those panties and pretend it never happened, pretend you never flirted with him, and pretend you didn’t tell him that you listen to him masturbate too. You went too far on your fucking anniversary then proceeded to fall even more in love with Doyoung.

Thankfully, you didn’t go far enough to where it couldn’t be salvaged, so when you leave today, you have the promise in your head that you will leave it alone. You will leave Mark alone and go back to what you were with Doyoung before you ever fantasized about his little brother.

Except that doesn’t happen because the moment you walk in and see Mark lounging by himself on the couch, shirtless, you find yourself avoiding him more than he was avoiding you. Though he immediately got up with a small apology and rushed towards his room, you had to stop yourself from turning around and going straight back home. Doyoung is there though, back turned towards you as he stirs something in a bowl.

“Hey, can you come to help me?” He asks, glancing at you from over his shoulder and showing the smallest glimpse of something smeared against his cheek.

Your heart warms at how domestic he looks right now, kicking your shoes off and heading towards him with your weekend bag.

“I'll be back in a minute, let me put my bag in your room.” You say, coming up behind him and planting a kiss on his shoulder. He nods to you before you walk out and towards his room.

Mark’s door is closed and you’re thankful for it as the image of his stupidly attractive shirtless body appears in your mind again. It’s stupid, honestly, you have a whole Doyoung in the kitchen waiting for you, who will probably make you come a minimum of three times tonight, and you’re panic-walking past his little brother’s bedroom because you’re incredibly fucking attracted to him.

Stupid.

The self-control you once had is no longer present in your head. The plan to leave it be is less and less attractive in your brain the more you take in the image of Mark in front of you at the table texting away on his phone. You watch him shamelessly as Doyoung goes back and forth in the kitchen. You’re almost completely skewed from his view as you sit here across from Mark. He’s wearing a shirt now, and only glancing at you from time to time but still not saying anything.

What happened to you avoiding him? No, what happened to him avoiding you?

From under the table, you gently kick against his leg to get his attention and his eyes snap up toward you. You look down though, ignoring him instead. But your leg stays there, occasionally kicking against him just to see how long it takes for him to stop reacting to it.

Scrolling through your own phone now, you’re swiping through videos, listening to Doyoung clattering through the cupboards, and feeling incredibly warm sitting in front of Mark. You don’t know what’s gotten into you when it comes to him, honestly. (It’s not like you knew how hard he came during your anniversary celebration.)

Finally, you slowly trail your eyes back up to his face and note that he does the same, at the exact same time. The two of you share a moment of silence looking at each other. You could almost feel his eyes pull you in without intent. It feels dangerous just to look at him, seeing him in a newer light than what you’d seen in him when it was just amusement on your end. You wonder if he can tell. Probably not.

He doesn’t look away from you, and you’re not sure why. He just stays still, silent, blinking back at you. Maybe he’s being pulled in too, like a secret agreement communicated just through eye contact. The electricity in the space between the two of you is nothing short of dangerous. Your body almost acts on its own when you raise your lips into a half smile at him and plant your foot on the chair between his legs.

Still keeping eye contact, you watch him jump at the action but he doesn’t move or push your foot away. Instead, he’s breaking eye contact and looking down, staring down, really, at how your socked foot is planted directly between his legs.

He doesn’t move, trailing his eyes back to you now with a curious look. You continue, pressing your foot forward just slightly. Mark jumps again and shoots his eyes to the opening of the kitchen. Doyoung is still facing away, stirring something in a pot on the stove.

Mark doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, or why he does it, but it’s like his hips press forward out of need rather than want. He knows it’s wrong to have you touching him in any way, even if it’s just your foot.

You smile wider, watching the way his face tries to stay casual as he gently scoots forward and presses himself further against your foot. Only now, satisfied, do you look back down to your phone as if you didn’t just do what you did, and like you’re not keeping your foot in place for Mark to grind against.

The fact that he’s actually doing that alone is enough for you to feel warm on the inside. All you were going to do was experimentally cross a line to see what would happen. This was a much better outcome than him rushing out of the room in a panic.

Offering more pressure against his weak grinds, you can tell he’s looking at you in disbelief and shifting his eyes to keep checking for Doyoung. Mostly because he grinds his hips forward a little harder when he notes that Doyoung doesn’t see anything, and when he moves more weakly, you assume your boyfriend must be moving around and able to easily see Mark fall apart. Alerting him that something is happening, even if he can’t see under the table due to the clean cloth he has draped over the table.

You smirk as you scroll to watch another video, feeling his cock harden against your foot, and god, he’s really that desperate? You hate how much you like it, and hate even more that you’re so fucking attracted to him doing this right now.

When you glance up, you note that Mark is really trying to concentrate on looking normal, but you can see him so clearly shifting his lower half and you speak up.

“Mark, have you seen this meme?” You fake laugh out loud, mostly to stop him from getting too into it and blowing the cover.

He jerks his hips back with an annoyed groan, realizes where he is and what’s between his legs, and then jumps into an act.

“N-no, I don’t think so,” He says nervously, leaning forward to see your phone.

You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer over the table, lifting him from his seat and whispering.

“You need to stop being obvious–” You whisper before releasing him and turning your phone to show him the video.

Mark lets out a fake laugh at the video before seating himself and looking dead into your eyes. Then he feels you adjust your foot again, this time further into his chair and seated directly against his painfully hard erection.

He doesn’t think he can just sit here and let this go on for too long but he doesn’t want you to stop either. It’s the first time you’ve actually come onto him and Doyoung is right fucking there. Mark decides to take what he can get, even if it’s just out of pity from you.

You’re shocked when you feel his hand grab your foot and hold it in place before very harshly grinding against it. Watching him from across the table, he’s somehow manages to make it not look obvious that he’s practically fucking one part of you, still, you find yourself falling apart at the way he parts his lips and bites the bottom one harshly. He’s focused solely on his phone, brows furrowed, but you can tell his eyes are vacant and he’s only focusing on how he’s feeling between his legs.

Just as quickly as he started, you feel him push your foot away and he’s scooting back in his chair.

“I left something in my room. I’ll be back.” Mark says sheepishly, looking to the floor and rushing into the hallway.

You watch him rush out of the room confused, so you look behind you hoping Doyoung didn’t like, make eye contact with him or something. It doesn’t appear he did though, because you see him waist-deep bent over in the fridge looking for something.

Mark needed to like, not come in his pants from that. He doesn’t fucking like feet, but he likes you. You offered pressure and he fucking took it. He needed to finish himself off and not have to sit there in cum-soiled pants pretending like it didn’t just happen. Naturally, he came to his room to finish himself off out of frustration. Thankfully he’s close enough to reach climax within two to three strokes, right there leaning against his door.

Embarrassed by the small sob he let out during his orgasm, he’s quick to rush to the bathroom and clean up before grabbing a hoodie from his room and throwing it on over the t-shirt, mostly so it does look like he came in here to grab something.

Not even five minutes pass before he’s sitting in front of you again. Mark feels helpless in the way he can no longer bring himself to avoid looking at you, all the way up until Doyoung peeks into the room and announces that he thinks he’s perfected the soup recipe, and is ready for you guys to come try it.

You, on the other hand, didn’t look at Mark after he came back. Not much, anyway. It’s not that you didn’t want to, it’s mostly just that you’re coming to terms with the fact that you just crossed a line and you’re not sorry about it. Even after Doyoung places a spoon at your lips and the soup was definitely the most delicious he’s ever made, and even after he’s got his arm around you at the table, across from his little brother who just eye fucked you while grinding against your foot.

The events of yesterday stayed fresh on your mind even as Doyoung lays next to you half-awake and scratching against his arm before cuddling in closer to you. He was so warm, and all you can do is wonder why you're risking this comfort to have fun with his little brother. You’ve already crossed a line and gone too far. You did exactly what you said you weren’t going to do and exactly what you never thought you could do. You’re probably not going to be able to stop even if you wanted to try again, so you opt to just–not think about when it’s gonna happen again or if it’s gonna happen again.

Saturday almost flies by and before you know it, all three of you are lounging in the living room to watch a movie. Usually, Mark isn’t as present when you’re with Doyoung but since everything started, he makes himself known much more. He includes himself in things and engages in more conversation. You wonder if it’s because he’s waiting for you to do something again. The worst part about all of it is that you can tell Doyoung is enjoying the time he’s spending with you and Mark together.

Even during this movie, Doyoung doesn’t think twice when you lean against him and throw your legs over Mark’s lap to get comfortable. Alternatively, Mark thinks three to four times over when you do it, opting to keep his hands at his sides when he steals a glance at you and notes that you’re comfortable under his brother’s arm.

The movie goes on like that and Mark can’t help but feel like it’s taking forever to be over with. Then again, he’s staring at your legs on his lap more than the movie on the screen. It gets worse when there's a jumpscare and your legs are tensing up and moving around against him. At least this time it’s not your fucking foot and he’s got a calf muscle to work with.

You did it both intentionally and unintentionally. You weren’t exactly throwing your legs on him to get him to rub against them or anything, it was mostly just to fluster him, but Mark proves himself as someone with zero self-control once again. You feel him twitch under your legs and shamefully, it makes you wet. Like, incredibly wet actually. And in your defense, it’s not like Mark hasn’t seen this happen before, never in an intimate setting like this, but you really can’t help yourself knowing that if you want to get fucked, you’ve got Doyoung right here to do it for you.

Adjusting yourself, you pull your legs from Mark and take a second to focus on his lap. The tent in his pants was obvious, but Doyoung pays no mind as his eyes stay on the screen. You watch the way Mark covers himself quickly and looks at you. As he looks at you, you move a bit to look at Doyoung.

Without warning, your boyfriend is thrown off guard by you suddenly kissing his neck. Mark doesn’t have self-control, and neither do you. You’re not trying to dangle your relationship in front of him, really, you’re not. It’s not your fault that Mark got hard and that caused a chain reaction in getting you wet.

Doyoung pulls back to look at you in confusion, smiling but also trying to dodge your kisses against his neck.

“Hey, hey slow down–” He turns his face to whisper into your hair. “It’s weird with Mark here.”

You ignore his whispers and continue to kiss against him, moving your hand dangerously close to his upper thigh.

In a way, Doyoung can’t believe that you’re really acting like this in front of Mark. Sure, the two of you have kissed in front of him, and Mark has walked in on some steamy makeout sessions, but it was never intended to be in front of him. Then again, Doyoung knows how needy you can get and how selfish you can be when you’re wanting something specific from him.

“Okay, okay–” Doyoung whispers out again, gently pulling himself from the couch and grabbing your hand.

“Hey Mark, I think she’s getting tired.” Doyoung laughs with the obvious lie. “Can we finish the movie another time?”

“Uh, sure.” Mark responds, knowing full fucking well that you’re turned on because of him. The movie hadn’t played even one sexy scene to get you all riled up.

Come Sunday morning, you were just as turned on as you were the night before. You can feel your body heating the moment you even think of Mark, but Doyoung satiates you well enough. Even there against the bathroom wall as the two of you take a shower.

Doyoung took note the night before that you enjoyed it when he humiliated you for doing those things in front of Mark. Asking you if you were really so desperate that you’d let just anyone see you acting the way you did. He plays off of that today too.

Waking up hard wasn’t anything weird for Doyoung, and usually the morning showers end up as morning sex sessions anyway. You seemed more willing and awake this morning than any other time, and he’s thankful for it.

When he’s got you pressed against the wall as the warm water runs down your back, he doesn’t hesitate to plunge into you all the way with a comment of how much wetter you get when he degrades you. In a way, the punishment and degradation feels deserved, because you are embarrassed by how much you want to touch Mark.

“You love when other people can see how much you want me, don’t you?”

You nod against the cold bathroom tiles, feeling his cock pressing deeply inside of you and making your legs feel weak. You do love when other people can see, but what you mean by that is you love when his little brother can see.

Mark, from across the hall, once again hears it all because it wakes him up. Doyoung hadn’t even attempted to keep his voice down while talking to you.

“Going so far as letting Mark see? How desperate were you?”

Mark’s ears perk up at the sound of his brother saying that, already stirring in his pants at the very idea of you getting off to that. How desperate were you? He wonders how you answer, or if you do. He wonders if you were desperate for him or if it was really for Doyoung.

Without much more thought, Mark can’t go another day with you here right now. It’s becoming a bit too much, a bit too real, and honestly, he thinks he’s the desperate one right now. Wanting to barge into the bathroom, shove his brother away, and have his way with you. He could never. You’d never let him go that far surely.

And by the time it’s all said and done, you leave the bathroom lightheaded and Mark appears to have left the house to do something else.

The week passes normally up until Thursday night. You’re rummaging through your cabinets for something to make for dinner when your phone goes off. Assuming it’s Doyoung again, complaining that Friday never comes fast enough, it’s Mark sending you something through instagram, and he’s drunk.

MarkLee99_ sent a photo:

MarkLee99_ : guess who got drunk on a thursday night and is regretting the fact that i wanna talk to you?

Never did you want a paper trail or some type of proof that you and Mark are involved in this weird….thing together. His message isn’t even sexual, it's just a bit intimate that your boyfriend’s brother is sending you selfies while drunk even though you came onto him first. He’s attractive, and entirely too cute right now trying to approach you via fucking Instagram because he won’t do it to your face. Then again, Doyoung is always around.

You: let me guess, you’re the one drunk on a thursday night and will probably say some shit that will make you not be able to look me in the eye tomorrow?

MarkLee99_ : ding ding ding! what’re you doing?

You: texting you and trying to find food, im hungry. what about you?

MarkLee99_ : bout to make another drink and pretend i don’t have your panties under my pillow

MarkLee99_ : …because i do

Wow, Mark is bold and confident when he’s drunk. You find yourself smiling over it. You’d never guess or even assume he would try to make conversation with you about that of all things.

You: oh yeah, you’re definitely drunk

MarkLee99_ : am i being too weird?

MarkLee99_ : because you’re the one who started it

You: me? I started it? You stole my underwear!

MarkLee99_ : you’re the one who let me keep them

You: that’s……fair….

MarkLee99_ : so… :)

Shy boy is no more at this moment and you almost feel caught off guard. Reminding yourself that he’s drunk, you try to set a boundary in your head and change the subject.

You: what are you drinking?

MarkLee99_ : found some of my brother’s expensive whiskey, gonna tell him you drank it, he wont be mad then

You: you’re gonna tell him that I drank his whiskey, when he knows I don’t even like whiskey?

MarkLee99_ : yep

You laugh at his stupidity, finally finding a snack for yourself and settling on the couch with your phone in hand.

You: and you’re drinking on a weeknight again, why?

MarkLee99_ : because i want you

Oh.

MarkLee99_ : and i know im not allowed to, but it’s really hard to like, not, i guess

MarkLee99_ : i know im being weird and im sorry, just really drunk rn and wanna talk to you thats all

MarkLee99_ : or we can pretend i never message you and you can delete the messages

You: no, i think you’re being cute. You can calm down, it’s okay

It’s definitely not okay, but you want it to be. You’re about to do some not okay things too, and cross those boundaries you literally just now set.

You: so, they’re still under your pillow?

MarkLee99_ : yea

You: when was the last time you didn’t have them under there?

MarkLee99_ : yesterday

You: oh yeah?

MarkLee99_ : yea i washed them when doyoung was at work…um

MarkLee99_ : can you maybe wear them again

God, he really is that desperate.

MarkLee99_ : please? you can leave them in the laundry like last time and ill just grab them

You: i’ll think about it

MarkLee99_ : okay…so…uh….did you like the selfie

You: i like seeing you in person more, it’s fun when you’re all flustered and stuff, trying to pretend you don’t like it

Mark is giggling to himself like a schoolgirl, focusing on your messages and hoping to god he doesn’t forget the things you’re saying to him. He’s going to have to delete these messages as soon as it’s over though, for sure. At least he’s not drunk enough to forget the glaring issue at hand here.

MarkLee99_ : i don’t like it because i always have a boner now lol i feel gross always having to go to my room and take care of it so things dont get weird

You: maybe ill take care of it for you someday, who knows?

MarkLee99_ : wait what

You’re cheating. As if you haven’t been already. This is blatantly against your moral code and you literally do not care.

You: are you all flustered now?

MarkLee99_ : maybe,,,,

You: would you want me to? instead of you having to always run off to your room where I can’t see?

MarkLee99_ : you’re doing this on purpose, you wouldn’t actually wanna

MarkLee99_ : would you?

You: guess you’ll just have to find out eventually

You: flustered now?

MarkLee99_ : yea, wanna see?

MarkLee99_ sent a photo:

You: jesus christ

You: you’re like, really big. I mean, I knew from feeling it last weekend but like, that was my foot lol

MarkLee99_ : yeah what even was that about? i felt so stupid doing that

You: you looked hot when you did it tho

MarkLee99_ : am i really that big?

You: mark, look at it. im shocked you don’t already have a girl to bury it into yet

MarkLee99_ : could have one ;)

You: ….yeah

MarkLee99_ : yeah?

MarkLee99_ sent a photo:

Okay, it’s getting to be too much now. You can feel the warmth pooling into your panties already and you wonder if he would be just as eager to lick it up as he is to text you right now. You spread your legs wide, deciding on if you should do it. You’re already cheating, the guilt couldn’t get any worse anyway.

You sent a photo:

MarkLee99_ : oh fuck

MarkLee99_ : you’re wet?

MarkLee99_ : sorry i wasnt expecting that

MarkLee99_ : can i save it

You: :)

You sent a photo:

MarkLee99_ : you should give me those panties instead

You: okay, ill put them in the basket tomorrow night

MarkLee99_ : will you still wear the other ones too?

You: you want //two// pairs?

MarkLee99_ : yeah :(

You: if it’ll make you keep being cute like this

Mark is blushing, flushing, and shaking all at once, one hand on his length and the other texting you. He’s saved the photos anyway, boring holes into them with the thought of what must be behind that thin layer of sticky and wet fabric. He wants to put his face there, he wants to smell you and swallow you up.

MarkLee99_ : can i call you?

A sharp feeling of fear but an even bigger feeling of arousal hits you.

You: I’m waiting.

You didn’t have to wait long, watching the bubble of him typing something to you disappear and instead getting a phone call. You know Mark had your number, and you had his, mostly for communication purposes for Doyoung. Never was this supposed to happen.

When you answer the phone after taking a deep breath, your eyes are nearly popping out of your head. Mark is shameless. All those nights of hearing him muffled through the wall now coming through crisp and clear on the speaker. If you close your eyes, it’s like you’re in his room with him.

You don’t speak, and instead listen. You had expected him to answer the phone stuttering, trying to dirty talk but ultimately failing. It appears his drunken state offers him more than just liquid courage, but liquid lust as well. For a moment you stop and contemplate hanging up. Mark is drunk and you can’t help but feel as though you’re taking advantage of him. Then again, previously sober he basically fucked himself against your foot at the dinner table.

“Feel good?” You ask with a chuckle. You can hear the movement of his body through the speaker and you’re aware that through the lack of slapping sounds that your panties are probably silencing what his hand is doing.

Mark barely answers. A quick “mhm” ringing through your ears with his deep breaths. This isn’t typically how phone sex would go, considering dirty talking is what gets a person there. Maybe Mark has never done this before, then again, maybe he gets off on knowing you’re listening to him while also alone.

“Can you–talk?” Mark asks weakly, his hand stilling for a moment to focus solely on the image he has pulled up over your phone call. He can barely comprehend that you’re on the other line and he’s looking at your pussy pressing against slick panties.

“I like hearing you do this,” You say quickly, not very good at this type of thing yourself despite knowing how it should usually go. You slowly start to trace your fingers against your panties, wondering if Mark would be gentle like this too, nervous even.

“Yeah?” He asks with a small, choked moan as he begins to move his hand again. “You’re not weirded out?”

“If I was weirded out I wouldn’t have sent you photos.” You snap, frustrated suddenly with the whole situation that this is your boyfriend’s brother. “Stop calling it weird–” You trail off, listening intently to the shifting sounds you hear through the speaker.

“Doyoung isn’t home right now,” Mark suddenly admits, and you can feel the arousal disappear almost instantly as you hear his name. The reality hitting you, but still not caring enough to stop.

“Don’t talk about him right now, This isn’t right but–”

“But what?” Mark asks, this time pulling his hand away completely and wondering if you realized you fucked up. Hoping you won’t tell Doyoung, hoping this never gets found out.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” You let out, finally pressing your fingers beneath the lining of your panties. “I know it’s wrong.”

Like music to Mark’s ears, he feels the eagerness in his body swell to the point that it’s difficult to maintain. Doyoung has everything that Mark wants. A good career, a nice house, needed life skills. All of those things could be obtained with hard work and effort for Mark, but you. You were the one thing he was never supposed to have. You were the one aspect of Doyoung’s life that Mark wouldn’t have the ability to work his way towards, but he did. He has you right now, in this moment, and he feels like nothing could break him. He knows it’s wrong just like you do, but Mark is selfish too.

He doesn’t think you meant to feel this way, because he always sees the good in people, and if you were doing this with any other man he would definitely snitch on you if he found out. But you’re doing it with him and he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt at this moment that he wants to fuck his big brother’s girlfriend, and it appears she wants to fuck him too.

A small part of Mark’s brain is anxious though. That little still-sober sliver of his moral code trying to fight its way to the front. Does he go with his heart or with his brain? Should he stop? Will he be able to look you in the eye tomorrow? Will he be able to ever look his brother in the eye? He isn’t sure. Both his heart and his brain tells him to go for you, the only thing telling him not to is the thought of his brother. The good news about that is, with you on the other end of this line, Doyoung doesn’t exist to him any longer as he goes to speak.

“You can have me, you know.” He almost whispers, staring down at his heavy cock resting against his belly, panties left dangling off the tip. “I wouldn’t say no.”

Those were dangerous words. Words you know you shouldn’t accept or be turned on by.

“I bet you wouldn’t–” You cut yourself off in a deep breath, pressing against your clit and rubbing harshly. Mark isn’t even talking much, just offering himself on a fucking platter to you.

“Oh, shit, are you?” Mark swallows hard, the reality that you might actually be touching yourself on the other line sending waves of heat down his body in waves. He thought it was just him and only had the hopes that you wouldn’t start making fun of him for it.

“Oh shit, oh fuck.” He says, quickly moving his hand to grip against his cock and already feeling too sensitive from the short moments of neglect. “Where are your hands?” He adds.

“In my panties.”

Mark groans, dropping his phone by his ear on the pillow and using his other hand to grip something, anything as he opts to imagine your fingers sliding beneath the panties you’d shown him in the photo.

You can tell he’s holding his breath, focusing on feeling good in the way he releases short, quick groans every now and then. You keep yourself silent though, trying to hear him, trying to imagine what he’s doing while thinking of you.

The wetness between your legs is being spread by your fingers as you scissor your lips open easily, letting a small groan roll off your tongue for him to hear. Satisfied by his responsive deep breath and sigh, you finally plunge your fingers in.

“Can you hear it, Mark?” You ask, lowering the phone a bit so that he can hear your fingers slide in and out of you with a wet sound.

He chokes on his end at that, swiping the panties off of him to replace the feeling of fabric with the feeling of his closed fist. His precum smears beautifully, offering him the sensation that if he squeezes hard enough, he can imagine that he’s fucking into your warm and wet pussy. He can hear how wet you sound and it’s driving him up a fucking wall not being able to physically see you do it in front of him.

“This is all I'm going to think about tomorrow–” He groans out, tightening his fist even more and bucking his hips into it. “You sound so,”

“Wet for you?”

That’s all it takes before Mark is gasping out a string of curses, the orgasm both sending him into a sobering world of pleasure and an even drunker state of wanting you to himself. Strings of white spurting all along his belly and going as far as his chin, he throws his other hand up and bites hard against the skin on his knuckle as he works through it. He doesn’t want to moan, he wants to hear how fast your fingers are moving. He wants to think about how you must be imagining him right now, feeling good and breaking the rules for him.

Finally, after an embarrassingly long orgasm from Mark, his room goes silent and his ears tune in to the speaker on his phone. You’re cooing, letting out pretty little breaths between the smacking sounds of your palms coming into contact with your clit as you work yourself through it. He can’t believe you’re doing this with him, and even after his own orgasm he’s still incredibly aroused despite his cock softening.

“You still there?” You groan out. He can tell the phone is closer to what your hands are doing than it is to your face, but he doesn’t mind.

“I’m still here–” He swallows hard, catching his breath as he practically studies the audio you’re feeding to him.

“I bet that felt good,” You compliment his orgasm that was glaringly obvious on your end. You imagine he doesn’t even recognize that his hand was audible against his cock, and the sheer speed you heard of what he was doing made your clenching walls ache with everything you shouldn’t be wanting.”Wish I could see you right now–”

Mark did contemplate face timing you instead, but that was crossing more of a line in his head than just calling you. Plus, he would have probably hidden himself from view the entire time. It’s not like he expected to actually have you fucking yourself on the other end of the line, but here you are, and here he is, cum all over him.

He snaps a quick photo for you, and in your head you whimper a small yes, because you can hear the shutter from his phone.

“Send it,” You demand softly, pulling your phone from your stomach and holding it in front of your face.

He does as you ask and feels embarrassed by the pools of cum all over his stomach. The photo consists mostly of his chest down. You can see his plush and bitten lips at the top of the photo though, and his quite big softening cock lying spent against his stomach, smearing some of the cum across his belly.

Mark listens to your reaction and hum of approval when you look at the photo, a small blush fanning his cheeks out of pure adoration for you rather than lust at this moment. He listens intently, unsure of if you’re going to work yourself to orgasm or hang up on him before he gets the chance to hear it.

The point is, Mark is getting a part of you that only Doyoung should have, and he will be damned to pretend he doesn’t like it.

Waking up with an immense amount of guilt in your head, you almost bail at going to Doyoung’s house this weekend. You’ve already called out of work simply because you find yourself thinking of Mark more than you should, and the guilt only wavers from you feeling like a piece of shit, to almost being a thought that you can push aside.

Doyoung would kill Mark if he found out, and you, what would he even do with you? Break up with you? Insult you? The thought of him finding out is the only reason you feel guilty. Because you still don’t regret showing Mark, letting him hear you, or hearing and seeing him. In fact, you don’t intend to stop either. You want him too much at this point, and he seems to be in the same place as you when it comes to this situation. Mark wouldn’t tell on you because then he would be telling on himself.

After all, he only moved in with Doyoung so he could taste freedom outside of his parent’s house. The strict curfews, the password protected websites despite him being a fucking adult, the supervision of his own money and belongings. Doyoung knew the pain of living there, and that’s why he accepted Mark with open arms.

Doyoung was a good brother and an even better boyfriend. You and Mark on the other hand. Mark’s an awful brother and you’re an even worse girlfriend. He didn’t deserve any of this, and he doesn’t deserve any of what’s to come either. You’re in too deep with Mark now, and the glaring attraction is too strong to ignore.

Never in your life did you think you could find yourself being unfaithful, let alone with your own boyfriend’s sibling, yet here you are. Only guilty if you get caught.

Mark had texted you at least three thousand times with apologies. Admitting that his head hurt too much this morning to be realizing what the two of you did. He said he wouldn’t approach you when you come over, apologized again, and then promised to never tell Doyoung and to never hold it against you if you think he’s weird for doing all of that to you.

Reading over his string of messages, you realize that Mark is blaming himself. He feels like he’s taking advantage of you and wanting you to feel secure and safe in something you did without a second thought.

On his end though, Mark is in his room staring at the two photos you sent to him the night before. Partially wondering if it was all just a dream at first, those pictures of you were the truth of how you felt towards him. And when you never text him back he doesn’t think too hard about why.

When you still show up at that day, he doesn’t question that you’re not eye fucking him the second you walk in through the door either.

Mark was once again lounging on the couch when you walked in and Doyoung was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t texted you either. Awkwardly, Mark speaks up before you can question it.

“He told me to let you know that he was gonna be late again. Said something about knowing you’d spam him with needy text messages while he’s in a last-minute work meeting.”

You look to the floor for a second, wondering if the real reason Doyoung didn’t text you personally like he always did is because he found out somehow.

“Oh,” You sigh, slipping off your shoes and feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you.

“He doesn’t know, don’t worry–” Mark assures you as he stands to his feet and heads towards his room. “Sorry about last night, I won't do that again.”

You’ve been slouched against Doyoung’s couch for at least an hour by now and your mind is still doing a back and forth between taking advantage of this alone time with Mark, or worrying about how you shouldn’t be left alone with him at all.

The glaringly obvious issue in your head right now is the fact that you’re alone with Mark and you’re not upset about it. Mark assured you that Doyoung didn’t find out, and the fact that Mark is the best source of finding out exactly what Doyoung knows is more of a comfort than anything to you right now.

Thinking back to the night before, you remember releasing your orgasm on the phone and hearing him compliment you through it. You have the photo of him saved within your gallery, hidden from your too-trusting boyfriend’s eyes. It was the first time you’ve ever seen Mark’s lower half bare. He really was huge.

It’s not even shocking to you at this point that you can feel guilty and anxious one moment and immediately switch into some sex-starved beast at the very thought of Mark.

“maybe ill take care of it for you someday, who knows?” The text message you sent to him spreads across your thoughts, knowing full well that you’re probably going to get intimate with Doyoung later, the least you can do is let Mark have some first if he wants it, right?

You cautiously stand to your feet with a deep breath. The fact that you allow yourself to continuously dig the hole deeper for you to never be able to pull yourself out from inside. Maybe it's just what Mark does to your thoughts? The images of him are too good to be able to ignore, the guilt not nearly enough to make you stop wanting him.

Doyoung isn’t in your mind when you reach into your bag and grab the soiled panties you had soaked completely the night before, and Doyoung barely exists at all in your thoughts when you make your way down the hall and lean against Mark’s closed door.

“I wouldn’t say no.” was what Mark had messaged you before, guess now is the time to find out.

Opening his door without so much as a knock, Mark doesn't appear to notice you at all as his back stays turned and he focuses on the screen in front of him. The large headset is sitting comfortably on his ears and you’re sure that the volume is up far too loud to be healthy. You can hear his friend’s yelling directions, where enemies are hiding and where they’re headed next.

You smirk for a moment, noting how much of a typical college boy Mark is. Messy room, messy hair, messy relationship with his brother’s girlfriend. You can imagine he feels pride in what he was able to do with you, and that’s not even an ego boost on your end. You wonder if he’s told his friends anything at all. Not about who he likes or who he’s been getting intimate with even if not too-directly, but like, that he’s been getting fed sexual fantasies by someone in general. You wonder if he talks you up, then again, what if he hasn’t mentioned it at all.

“Where were you last night anyway?” You hear over the too-loud headset as you come up behind Mark with the panties in your hand.

“Busy getting laid, unlike you losers.” Mark boasts, but you snicker at how he’s both lying and telling the truth.

“Bullshit–” You hear another insult coming through his headset before you finally are right behind him.

Part of you wants to prove him right so his friend’s think he’s cool or something, but then again, what if they recognize your voice? Surely these are his friends from back home, some two to three hours from this city. Surely they don’t know you, right?

“No, really.” You lean down against Mark’s headset and speak in a tone that isn’t too common for you, and he freezes.

“No fucking way,” A deeper voice sounds through his headset and you can’t help but feel happy for him in the way they, for some reason, can’t believe Mark’s got some girl in this city interested in him.

When Mark tries to turn his body to look at you, you hold the chair in place. Knowing yourself how headsets work, you lift his mic until it clicks, hoping to god the mute function works like it’s supposed to and start talking.

“Don’t move, keep playing if you want.” You say, dangling the panties over his head and lowering them in front of his face.

More arousing than gross, you watch Mark’s face fall forward against them. Part of him can’t believe you’re really doing this right now despite leaving his messages on read. But you are, and these are the panties that he thought about all last night and most of today. He really meant it when he said that would be the only thing he would be thinking about, and here you are, keeping the promise of giving them to him.

Reaching up and clutching the panties, Mark tries to turn towards you again.

“Stay,” You say. “And don’t be loud.” You lower his mic into place where he is no longer muted and listen as his friends go from talking shit to starting up another game.

From behind his chair, you’re a little shocked at how good he is at following what you say. He doesn’t move, but you can hear his breathing and the way he struggles to balance it in order to remain some-what normal sounding to his friends when they address him. His fingers are shaking against his keyboard as the game starts, and you think he’s probably thought about this happening to him hundreds of times before.

Gamer boys always want this kind of thing. Some girl prodding and tugging at them, sucking them off under the table as they boast to their friends how they can be getting head and still getting gold damage by the time the match is over.

All you can think about right now is being the person to fulfill his fantasies. More turned on by the idea that Mark must want it so badly from you. When you reach around him, lying your hand against his lap, he’s already incredibly hard and stares down at it as the countdown screen on his game begins.

From out of sight, you don’t want Mark to see you. You want to see how badly he does through this, because it’s not only cute but actually fucking hilarious. It’s the first time you’re moving on him rather than him grinding against whatever you have to offer.

Ignoring the call outs of enemies in game through his head set, both of you spiral into a world of your own again when you grab his length from over his sweatpants and just–you just hold him for a moment. The weight of it grows much heavier as he somehow manages to get insanely hard at the fact that you’re in the room with him and your incredibly used panties are sitting right there too.

“Jesus–” Mark groans when you grab him, but his friends seem to pay no mind to it. Gamer talk and all.

“Jesus is right, you haven’t moved from that fucking building you cuck-” Some guy shouts from his head set.

“Shut the fuck up Haechan, you’re literally in bronze,” Another man shouts.

Mark is silent save for a sharp inhale when you squeeze your palm around him. He knows if he even tries to talk shit right now that all of his friends would just fucking know how desperate and embarrassing he is around you. That’s the last thing he needs.

Finally, after a few moments of palming him through his pants, you dip right in. He doesn’t shy away from it either, spreading his legs from under his desk and lifting his ass up slightly so you can pull the pants down to release his length.

Even bigger than the photos, thicker than you genuinely imagined now that you see it from over his shoulder. Mark tries to turn his head this time to look at you, but you’re quick to catch his cheek and turn it back to the screen.

Gripping him again, Mark sighs into his mic and his friend’s screaming goes silent. You’re quick to lift his mic into the muted position just to offer some sort of escape from embarrassment now seeing that he’s incredibly willing to let you do this while his ego is on the line.

“You want them to hear?” You ask, feeling his hips slightly buck into your grip. That sends shivers down your spine, finally feeling it for the first time.

“I don’t care–” He sighs again, thrusting his hips up harder. “Just touch me,”

The way he says it, for some reason, sounds so fucking broken that you could honestly swirl this chair around and impale yourself on him without so much as a second thought. But you contain yourself, now moving your grip up his length and thumbing over the head to feel the little beads of pre-cum.

“Alright, sweetheart,” You compliment, lowering his mic for the last time and wondering just how much he’s going to let his shithead friends hear.

For a few moments, you gently jerk him off just to see his hips chase your fist. He’s needy in the way he moves his body but very fucking good at acting as you start to count each kill he manages to get through this.

By the time you hear his friends praise him, you feel a little competitive yourself. Shy, needy, desperate little Mark thinks he can get through a game the very first time you actually touch him? Perhaps he thinks he is giving you what you want, but what you want is to see him fall apart.

You move your hand faster, watching him from behind as he chokes up and slams his head against the headrest of his chair, nearly knocking the headphones off of him.

“Fuck,” Mark moans, knowing full well that his friends wouldn’t suspect anything if he says such a thing.

You know that was for you though, so you continue. The rhythm of your hand moving from a slow drag to something painfully fast and unfathomably good. Mark’s head is spinning, thrusting his hips up and gripping his computer mouse so tightly that he thinks he could crush it in his grip.

When his pre-cum is offering more lubricant for an easy slide up and down, your pace remains fast and you can squeeze harder.

Mark can’t hold himself back anymore, slamming his head against the headrest of his seat yet again, this time his headset sliding off of his head and falling into the floor. He lols his head from side to side as he finally lets out a moan, shooting a hand to your wrist and holding it in place so that he can fuck up into it.

You gasp at that, his grip harsh and far less gentle than you’d expect. The muffled screams of his friends are blatantly obvious and you can’t bring yourself to care if the mic muted itself during its descent to the floor or not.

He’s choking back little groans, releasing your wrist and staring down, then grabbing it again before fucking up harder. You can tell he has no idea what to do, what he should do, or what he’s going to do and it’s so fucking endearing.

He tries to turn to see you again, but you do your best to remain behind him as you grab the base of his cock and cause him to groan in pain.

“Let me see you,” He nearly sobs in a frustrated way, and for a moment you contemplate letting him.

“Let me hear you.” You respond, keeping that same, painfully tight, grip against him and dragging it up to his head, enveloping it and sending sensitive shocks throughout his body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Mark wiggles under the painful grasp, but his hips still chase when you drag your hand back down. He’s no longer being quiet, no longer pretending to care about his dead character on the screen, re-spawning and dying every few seconds. He’s a free kill for any enemy player right now and you can tell his friend’s are pissed in the way the screaming from the headset gets louder despite the distance. The chat box on screen is being spammed just as aggressively, and Mark can barely even open his eyes to process it.

“You were playing so well,” You coo out, shifting forward a bit and placing your chin on his shoulder. “What happened, Markie?”

He softly moans at the nickname, eyes half open as he glances down at how fast your hand is moving compared to your soft, balanced voice against his ear. He turns his head quickly, trying to catch you off guard, but you pull away.

“So needy to see me,” You chuckle, working him up and knowing that he’s got to be close with the way she shamelessly moans in the most annoyed, frustrated way.

“Let me kiss you.” He grunts, bucking his hips aggressively, now chasing in full that painful grip you’re keeping against him so well. “I’ll keep my eyes closed, please,”

You contemplate again giving him what he wants, but you figure he’s already getting more than enough.

“Oh? You’ll keep your eyes closed? Don’t you want to look at me?”

Mark is desperate now, hands moving to the armrests of his chair as he grips them hard, hips wildly stuttering in your grasp.

“Fuck, yes.” He lets out, dropping his head with a deep breath and then throwing his head back with an even longer moan.

You can’t tell if that was him answering you, or simply reacting to what his body is feeling, and you don’t really care. He’s already there, walking on the thin line of orgasm and willing to take whatever it is you give him. He no longer wants anything, he’s just experiencing.

You watch him from behind very closely, the shiver running from his toes straight to his ears was obvious enough.

“That’s it,” You whisper from behind. “I know you want to.”

Mark’s entire body tenses against the chair, you can feel it stress from the way his legs spread wider and his hips go from quick thrusts to short, drawn out drags against your palm. The image of him doing that between your legs washes over every single one of your thoughts. He would do that, burying himself so deeply as he spills out inside of you, thrusting in and slowly dragging his hips out, just to thrust in again to push his seed impossibly deeper.

“That’s so hot,” Mark comments with a deep breath, and only then do you realize the small moan you’d let out during that intense thought of him. His come is spilling out in loads and all you can do is watch him get through it.

Finally, after making a mess of him, you smile to yourself. A job well done.

You opt to make a grand exit, saying nothing after releasing his cock and sauntering out of the room in silence to leave him to his thoughts. You could still hear his friends screaming through the microphone, and he doesn’t even call out after you. Mark must feel on top of the world right now, because you know that you do.

Doyoung came home later than last time, tired and droopy. He found himself drawn to you more than usual, noting that your eyes were sparkling a little brighter upon walking through his door.

You put Mark in the back of your head much like you always tried to do when Doyoung was around you these days. Your love for your boyfriend is still blatant and honest when you’re next to him, not at all feeling pity for Mark having to see it. Mark should know who it is you love, despite the fact that you jerked him off a mere few hours ago.

When Doyoung is next to you, when his arm is around you and his eyes are on you, you don’t question for a second that everything you’ve been doing behind his back will come back on you, and it’ll be well deserved pain. But there’s still a part of you that hopes you can keep Doyoung forever and always be happy beside him. You’re actively betraying him, his own flesh and blood is helping you dig this hole deeper and deeper. So deep that Doyoung can’t even see the bottom where Mark’s got his hands on you.

Fully intending to keep them both, you find yourself feeling more fulfilled despite the awful moral. Doyoung isn’t willing to share, but Mark is. And you, you don’t have to share.

Saturday was as normal as always. Mark pops in and out of his room, not even once acting as if something suspicious is going on. If anything, Doyoung is a little more happy to see you spend time with Mark when he’s not in his room. It was awkward at first. Mark’s always been shy but it seems like he’s loosened up after realizing you’re a permanent part of the picture for as long as you’re with Doyoung. He’s endeared by the way you bully his brother the same way he does.

Even that little crush Mark had on you when he first met you appears to have fallen into more of a sibling-like relationship to Doyoung. He thought it was cute that Mark had a crush, after all, it’s you. Doyoung fucking fell head over heels when you gave him attention and wouldn’t be caught dead releasing his grip on you once he asked you to be his girlfriend. The point is, Doyoung knew Mark had a small crush but was pleased to see it turn into something more casual and comfortable. He likes his life, loves his girlfriend, and loves his brother. Nothing could get better than spending time with the two of you, even if Mark jumps up to go be a recluse in his room from time to time.

“Mark,” Haechan grits through the mic.

“What?” Mark responds, throwing his arms behind his head as he smiles to himself through the webcam.

“You should be embarrassed.” Haechan argues. “We didn’t wanna hear that shit.”

“I muted him.” Jeno says with a shrug through his webcam.

“Yeah, me too.” Jaemin follows up, all eyes now falling to Haechan with a red face.

“I was in a tight situation! I couldn’t tab out!” Haechan defends himself easily, still a darker shade than usual.

“I think she wanted you guys to hear,” Mark laughs quietly, whispering.

“Why are you whispering?” Jeno asks, leaning forward towards his camera as if Mark was about to whisper out again, this time with a deeper secret.

Instead, Mark shifts his eyes and changes the subject. As much as he would love to tell his friends that he’s managed to get a handjob (not the foot thing) from his brother’s girlfriend, he’s sure they’d have a little more respect for him. But it feels like a betrayal to say it out loud, regardless of how hot the idea is in his head.

“Because my brother is with his girlfriend and it’s weird if they know what happens when they’re not here.” Mark deadpans out to his friends, who nod their heads in agreement.

“She left her panties,” Mark goes to say, removing his hands from behind his head and sitting up from his relaxed position. “Wanna see?”

Haechan was, obviously, the first to nod his head and Mark didn’t really need the others to agree anyway, because they’re a group of college guys who are always either talking about getting laid or how to raise their rank when playing competitive games.

“Damn,” Jeno laughs as he sees the thin fabric come into view. “Are they dirty?”

“Oh yeah,” Mark boasts, spreading out the fabric and bringing them close to the camera.

“Y’all are gross.” Haechan waves them off, averting his eyes and trying to pretend he’s not interested.

“Mark’s full of shit, he probably bought those and was being weird with them. That’s definitely his load we’re looking at, guys.” Jeno cuts in.

“You heard her talk to him through the mic, there’s no way he’s lying.” Haechan, for some reason, argues for Mark.

“Uh, no I didn’t. I had him muted the second I saw his hero standing in the middle of the map without moving.” Jeno argues back.

“I lied, I didn’t mute him.” Jaemin finally admits.

Mark can’t stop smiling. The fact that he can barely believe what happened himself is enough not to argue. They’re your panties, that’s your scent in them, and that was your hand wrapped around him yesterday.

Waking up on Sunday felt, again, normal. You hadn’t heard Mark through the walls the night before but Doyoung sure did. He mostly drowned out the sounds by putting in his headphones though, unlike what you would have done. Doyoung did, however, wake up hard considering the two of you passed out the night before without so much as a lingering hand.

To his dismay, you groan at his roaming hands as he wakes you up. Doyoung knew you loved being woken up this way, but he knew to stop if you made a sound like that.

“What’s wrong?” He says, pulling his hand back and instead, placing it in your waist so that way he can pull you closer.

You don’t respond, cracking an eye open and immediately feeling your head pound at the sunlight shining through the windows. You feel bad that since thursday, the only intimacy you’ve had has been with Mark despite being in love with the man against you. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that you immediately, physically, feel like shit this morning, you’d be jumping Doyoung’s bones.

“Head is pounding.”

“Ah,” Doyoung smiles, hugging you against him and rubbing circles against your skin with his thumb. “It’s okay, you can sleep in. I’m gonna go make some breakfast.”

Your boyfriend’s good mood doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does your headache. You take him up on that offer and immediately fall back to sleep.

Later, you wake to Doyoung gently patting your cheek.

“You want some food? Might help?”

You nod, squinting your eyes and sitting up a little too quickly. You glance around as he turns away and heads back towards the kitchen, and then you stretch your arms out. Things feel too fucking normal for you to be doing what you’ve been doing. This headache is well fucking deserved, surely.

Making your way into the kitchen, you note that Mark’s bedroom door was open and he wasn’t in there. He also wasn’t in the kitchen or living room.

“Where’s Mark?” You ask casually, sitting down at the table and rubbing your temples.

“Said something about one of his friends coming to a city nearby and wanting to go hang out with him. Probably Haechan.”

Your heart starts beating in your ears at the thought that you really thought Doyoung wouldn’t know any of Mark’s friends? Sure, you thought that maybe they were just online friends, or maybe people Mark met after Doyoung moved out of his parent’s house, but you recognize that fucking name. Thankfully, you had changed your voice just slightly as you spoke to Mark the other day. Surely this isn’t what would ruin the entire arrangement.

“Ah,” You groan. “Finally we have the house to ourselves and I have to wake up with a migraine?”

“It’s okay, really.” Doyoung smiles, sitting a plate of food down in front of you. “Besides, we both know you like the thrill of needing to be quiet.”

He’s joking, you know he is, but it was the truth before this whole thing with Mark started.

“If we really wanted to be alone, I'd be at your apartment every weekend.”Your boyfriend adds, planting a kiss to the top of your head and heading towards the medicine cabinet. “Little weird that it has to be my brother that we are keeping quiet from, but whatever.”

“Didn’t know i’d be this into it, honestly.” You admit, feeling open enough to at least tell him that you’re very into the idea of someone hearing you. You just won't admit that you want it to be Mark.

“I mean, I personally am not into this type of thing. It’s a little uncomfortable for me.” Doyoung sits down and hands you two painkillers. “But I doubt he’s actually listening. I apologized after the first time and he said he usually just puts in headphones and goes to sleep.”

You hold back the smile of Mark’s blatant lies towards Doyoung.

“So I guess I don’t entirely mind feeding into your little fantasies of being heard, or caught, or whatever.”

Your boyfriend waves off the conversation with a smile, ultimately willing the fact that it is weird to him out of his head. If that was a new thing you realized you liked, the only way you would have found out is by having someone else in the house when the two of you do those things. Unfortunately, it was Mark. In Doyoung’s head, he was mature enough to discuss it like an adult with his brother. Guidelines and rules, moving Mark in wasn’t going to change his sex life with you, if anything, he had already told Mark to invest in some decent headphones or earplugs because he’s gonna hear some shit.

You allow the conversation to die as you work up an appetite. Thankfully Doyoung was an amazing cook, though he only did it one or two nights a week considering how spent his job makes him feel. You’re thankful he cooked this morning, and even more thankful for these two little pills that will hopefully knock your headache out within the hour.

Come Monday, you’re thankful you get to work from home. You sleep in and try your best not to think about the fact that Doyoung knows the friends that heard you be intimate with Mark. You’re even more thankful for this week away from your boyfriend’s house because, even though you’ve processed everything, you feel like you should probably be alone for a while and really think about what you’re doing.

When Mark is around or texting you, it’s hard to think straight because you genuinely want him so fucking bad. And when Doyoung is beside you, or texting you, all you can do is imagine a future with him.

The once bright, clear future of Doyoung in a tuxedo standing in front of you at some extravagant altar becomes a little more foggy at the thought of where Mark would fit into it. Would he be behind Doyoung, watching him marry you to start a real life together? Would he be somewhere in the crowd, waiting to object and expose you for the awful girlfriend you are? Or even worse, would he not be there at all? Running away and disappearing never to insert himself into your life or his brother’s life ever again?

You don’t want to think about the future right now. Everything you’ve been doing has been so selfish and so fucking fulfilling that you can’t bring yourself to feel any amount of pity for Doyoung and the way he trusts you fully. You never once gave him a reason to not trust you, and you think maybe Mark hasn’t given him a reason.

But god, he shouldn’t trust either of you at all. He’s at work, making money, living his life with a supposed loving girlfriend all while offering his little brother an ounce of freedom. What does he get in response to his hard work and kindness? His brother wanting to tongue fuck his girlfriend? And worse yet, his girlfriend wants it even more than his brother does?

Your mind is burning through scenarios all day if you have it in you to feel bad. Another scenario involves you, married to Doyoung and sneaking Mark out of your bed when Doyoung returns from work. Even more scenarios of Doyoung finding out and hating you forever, leaving you and meeting someone better. How could you have them both and keep it going? Is something like that even possible?

Then you get a text.The glaring reality blows right past your head when you’re expecting it to be Mark but you see Doyoung’s name on the screen. You still feel just as excited though.

Doie: good news and great news

You: oh? :o

Doie: Good news: co worker has family issues and had to drop out of the business trip coming up.

You were about to question why that’s good news, but then Doyoung quickly texts again.

Doie: great news: i am now being asked to attend the event and it could get me a pretty big promotion.

You: You’re gonna go right?? When is it?

Honestly, the way your heart swells at your boyfriend moving up in the world could knock anyone on their feet. No one would ever guess what you do behind his back, because again, you haven’t lost an ounce of love for this man and you probably never will.

Doie: I leave tomorrow if I accept.

You: how long is it? do you need help packing since it’s such short notice?

Doie: only three days, so i’d be back on friday and still get to see you this weekend

You: it’s a win/win! i can come over tonight since i’m working from home today.

Doie: you good to sleep over and drop me off in the morning at the airport? i can give them an answer now so they can work out the transport and get the tickets transferred to me.

You: you didn’t need to even ask me first!! you should have immediately said yes! I’ll be over tonight, i’m proud of you

Doie: love you babe :)

And so there it is. The glaring issue about to become a blatant, full blown affair. And like, you don’t want to get it twisted. You are so fucking proud of Doyoung and so fucking glad that everything in his life appears to be rushing him straight to major success, but also, he’s going to be gone for three days and that’s three days to try and get over this whole Mark phase(which is unlikely). By using Mark. By fucking him, specifically.

It doesn’t help that just a few moments later, presumably after Doyoung lets Mark know the plan, Mark is texting you.

Mark: Doyoung’s leaving for 3 days

You: yep :)

Mark: ….do i even need to say it

You: nope

Mark: gonna clean my room

Dropping Doyoung off was weirdly bitter sweet. His confidence was through the roof as he kissed you goodbye. He even asked for a second kiss for good luck after rushing back to you a few seconds later. You knew he’d do amazing for this event, even with it so last minute. Everything Doyoung did was with effort and thought put into it.

That was the sweet part anyway. The bitter part is the guilt finally coming to you like it should have weeks ago. The fact that Doyoung is walking off to get on an airplane and Mark is at home cleaning his room to fuck you in it. It’s obvious that you don’t deserve either of them.

Still, the guilt hitting you now is unnerving. It took so long to come, and only consumes you when Doyoung isn’t around to nearly witness the infidelity? Shaking yourself of disgust, you head out of the airport and still find yourself pulling into Doyoung’s driveway.

You sit in your car for a moment. Thinking back on all of those small moments with Mark, wondering now if you still want him or if those moments were enough to satisfy the curiosity of your boyfriend’s brother. Even through the guilt, you still want him.

Stepping out of your car and walking up to the door felt too unfamiliar and nerve wracking, hearing your heart skip beats and your body melt away into the hole you fucking dug for yourself. However, the moment Mark opens the door and looks at you, before you could even unlock it yourself, every single guilt ridden thought disappears.

You don’t know what it is about him, and surely you’ve never felt this way before, because goddamn is it a blinding kind of feeling. Thinking back as you look at him, he seems different now despite having the same face and body language. Before, Mark was cute with his little crush. Weird even, with the way he lingered for too long to see you kiss his brother. Now, when you look at him, he looks like he isn’t at all the cute, shy little brother. He’s Mark, a man with wants and needs that have your name written all over them. You can’t fucking help yourself, and now being able to indulge yourself fully along side him, Doyoung is drowned out in the back of your mind.

Mark is still shy and timid in the way he moves but he knows just as well as you do what’s about to happen and isn’t at all shying away from the fact that he’s about to fulfill every dirty little thought he’s had about you since he met you. Hell, since he saw photos of you that Doyoung sent before he ever met you.

On cloud nine, Mark is timid when he, for the first time, makes a move on you. It’s shocking that he did it at all, if you’re being honest, but you lean into him. All he does is grab your hand, a touch that wouldn’t raise suspicions at all in Doyoung if he were to see it, but to you it’s the most intimate thing he could do at this moment. Because he’s leading you, and his eyes are hungry and unable to pull from you.

Not a single fucking word is said, everything already spoken and understood with nothing more than the look when he opened that fucking door. Mark leads you to his room, and the energy in the air is so electrifying it scares you. Never has a touch to your hand, or a leading pull to a bedroom made you feel so weightless. You think back to when you held his length in your hand, you had all of the power that day. Now, you don’t think Mark realizes what he could get away with. You’re falling into the same mindset you have with Doyoung, one where you want, need, and could beg to be touched, but you still yourself from falling too far into it.

Mark is even more gentle when he lets your hand go and turns towards you with a deep sigh, as if he’s preparing his entire being for what’s coming. Both of you like a deer in headlights, as if this wasn’t intentional or planned, you smile at him.

Mark lets out a nervous laugh at your smile, shaking his head and looking down. He’s already stiff beneath his pants, which are conveniently unbuttoned and unzipped. Even you, shamelessly wearing a dress with no panties. Doyoung thought it was for him, and he damn well did fuck you this morning while on a confident-high before you took him to the airport.

You knew Mark could hear it, and he didn’t appear to care. Because in all fairness, Mark did not give a fuck. Because he knew you weren’t his at that moment, but you fucking would be before the night is up. The next three days, you’re his. Even if he never has you again.

That deer-in-the-headlights look from Mark fades as his eyes take you in without hiding it for the first time. You imagine he will fall apart if he were to trace his hands under your dress and find that you are completely bare, you imagine you would fall apart much faster if he touched you at all.

It happens so fast. Too fast, almost with the way he steps up to you confidently. You just now realize that he’s taller than you when he skews his head and looks down at your lips. His breathing is uneven and you can tell he’s doing his best to be confident because you haven’t made a move towards him at all like you usually would.

Looking up at him, you want to reach up and grip his hair. His lips are so plush, clearly freshly coated with chapstick. His skin is practically glowing save for the few blemishes that the fringe on his forehead covers, you find yourself wondering if he’s taking this moment to study you too.

“I’m having a really hard time holding back,” Mark whispers out, inches from your face.

“Then don’t.” You encourage him without doubt, hoping that he can break past that last little boundary the two of you haven’t crossed yet. The one where he can kiss you, touch you, have you. Only because you can’t bring yourself to do it at this moment, for some reason.

The feeling of his lips touching yours was more bruising than you think he intended them to be, but the desperate feeling was all the same as your own, you think. Never had you actually stopped to think of kissing him or how he would go about it. Like running in blind, you’re learning that Mark knows what to do with his tongue, how to pace himself despite not wanting to, and how to reach up and hold your fucking face in a dreamy way.

His hands are cupping your face, kissing you like you’re his girlfriend. He still moves his lips in a hungry and desperate way though, in a way that has you struggling to breathe by the force of it alone.

When his hands drop from your face and fall to your waist. Every new place he touches feels like it’s set ablaze. You press forward against his chest, walking him back as you continue to kiss, all the way until he falls back on his bed with an ‘oof’ sound.

Still, his face is slack as he stares up at you now, eyes struggling to stay trained on your face for too long as you begin to take off your jacket and reach over to pull at his shirt.

So badly you want to see him shirtless again, but he doesn’t argue, eagerly lifting it off of his body and lying back again.

Now that the initial intimacy has been established, you finally feel you coming back to yourself, thinking more clearly and finding a small list in your head of things you want and need to do for him. Starting with letting him really look at you.

“I know how much you like my panties, but–” You smile, standing in front of him and trying to keep your eyes averted from his length threatening to break through his pants.

“Let me see,” Mark urges you, tilting his head with a swallow and training his eyes on your thighs.

He thinks you must be wearing the prettiest pair today, for him, not for his brother. But when you lift your leg and straddle him, his face contorts to confusion and then to pleasure when you sit against his cock. Of course, with the fabric covering his length, he still can’t tell that you’re not actually wearing any panties at all.

“You wanna see?” You ask for his clarification, bunching your dress up in your hands and preparing to lift it so he can see your bare folds sitting against him.

Mark blinks at you, nodding his head and nibbling on his bottom lip. He’s doing everything in his power not to reach up and grab your waist just to guide you on him. He’s afraid to move too fast, he’s afraid to embarrass himself with how fucking desperate he is for you right now.

“Look,” You say, nodding between your legs and lifting your dress.

“Goddamn,” Mark gasps as his eyes focus on the fact that you’re leaving a small wet spot against his pants. That’s your pussy on him.

Without a second thought his hands are on your waist, pushing and pulling you forward and backwards against his length. You blink hard at the sensation of the fabric rubbing against your lips harshly, and then open your eyes to look at him again.

He is still staring between your legs, almost losing himself to this alone. Then again, it’s the first time he’s ever seen you bare and he cannot get past the fact that Doyoung gets to see it whenever he fucking wants.

“I can feel it–” Mark chokes, referring to your wetness seeping through his pants and onto him.

You smile at him, now moving your hips on your own as you pull his hands away and push them to lay above his head. If he thinks this is good, you want to see how fast he reaches for you again.

It’s so easy when you lift yourself up, and incredibly cute in the way his eyes follow your core when you lift. He doesn’t even realize that you shove his sweats down and sit right back down, this time coating him in full with your slippery juices.

“God, fuck,” He moans in disbelief, and just as expected his hands shoot to your waist and hold you down against him. You’re not sure if it’s intentional or not, but he’s incredibly sexy in the way he moves without thinking.

“Fuck?” You question cutely, forcing your hips to slide up his length despite him trying to hold you there.

“How are you always so wet?” He questions in a whimper, letting you move and instead grabbing the hem of your dress himself and holding it up so he can watch you slide against him.

“How are you so big?” You try to compliment, feeling him between your folds and wondering just how deep he could fuck you if he so wanted to. “So, so big.” You groan out this time, feeling the head of his cock bumping against your clit every few seconds.

Mark obviously doesn’t answer, his fingers are gripping your dress so tightly and his eyes are burning the image of you doing this into his head. He never wants to forget this moment of feeling you against him for probably the first and last time, because in all realness, this can’t happen again if he thinks too hard about it.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” He admits. “Just this once, please.”

You nod cutely, swiping his hands away from your dress and lifting it off of you in full. His eyes are now glued to your tits and whatever it was he was saying is long forgotten as he watches them move when you slide up against him again.

The way he shuts up is entirely too arousing. You can see him thinking about you, practically able to see him process every part of your body on top of him.

“Take your pants off, quickly.” You finally say, frustrated when you slide back and off of him.

He does as he’s told when you stand to your feet in wait, and instantly he’s lifting himself and grabbing you, pulling you right back on him.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Mark whines, pushing your hips against him and keeping himself upright, careful not to fall back against the mattress so he can plant his lips against your neck.

You feel a bite and pull back from him, hips stilling.

“You can’t leave any bruises–” You scold him, and he simply nods and goes back to kissing against your neck and shoulder.

“Right, wouldn’t want him knowing that I fuck you better, right?” Mark mocks the situation as a whole, using reality as a form of ego boost, hoping to god that you lean into it rather than run from it.

It makes you a little angry, but you get it. Mark’s confidence must be through the roof because never would you have imagined him speaking to you like this, or mentioning his brother at all.

“Prove it and maybe i’ll play along.” You try to challenge him, but you know that he might actually be right. His size is definitely bigger than Doyoung’s, but can he work it the same way, or better? Can the shy, timid little brother actually satisfy you the way your boyfriend does?

Mark pulls back from kissing your neck only for a moment, moving to your lips and wincing at the feeling of your folds sliding against him still, maybe he did get a little too cocky there.

“Prove it?” He breathes against your lips, gripping your waist tighter and guiding you up.

You already know what he’s doing and don’t shy away from it. Usually there’s foreplay, and you’re sure he wanted to do more than just fuck you, but too little too late. You’re hungry for it and so is he, if the sounds between you are enough to go by.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lift yourself and allow his hand to disappear between the two of you. You can feel him position himself right at your entrance and all you need to do is sink down. You don’t yet though and instead look at him.

He stares back at you with anticipation, and when you sink down just a tiny bit, he’s lunging his lips forward and kissing you again. Continuously as you sink down inch by inch, feeling him stretch you out in a searing type of pleasure, Mark just groans into your mouth. You can feel his chest heave against you as he feels your walls start to envelop him and when you’re finally seated, he pulls you down with him as he falls against the mattress.

There, in a hug, his mindless kissing becomes even more vacant as he holds you in place, fucking his hips up and into you in an aggressive pace. His lips release from yours and his moans come out strangled, breathless, and entirely desperate for you.

He’s deeper inside of you than any man has ever been able to reach without the aid of a toy, and the head and thickness of it is far better than any plastic could ever be. You imagine you sound just as desperate as he does right now. Unable to wiggle in his grasp, you just take it. You were well versed in that, at least.

Mark holds you there for at least a full moment, feeling you clenching and drenching his cock in a way that makes the slide easy and pleasurable for him. His hips can move much faster this way, but the fear of coming too quickly forces him to slow his movements and open his eyes.

Your legs are spred out over his own, his cock is buried into you completely, and you fucking just take it? God, No wonder Doyoung is in love with you.

Mark’s arms release you from the hug and he uses one hand to lift your face.

“Sorry,” He says before getting a look at your face, but he ends up losing any thought in his head when he notes how blown your pupils are, face still contorted in a silent moan as you bounce yourself against him now.

What he was gonna say was that he was sorry he lost control for a second, but what he ends up saying now is “Oh my god, I want this so bad.”

Despite that Mark is getting everything he wants at this moment, all he can do is look at you and watch you grind your clit against his pelvic bone chasing a pleasure that he knows you’re feeling intensely right now. He thinks of himself in pity, all those nights of wanting exactly this and never knowing that he actually fucking gets to do it.

Without thinking, Mark doesn’t even know why he does it, but he keeps his cock buried deeply into you and knocks you over. He follows your body, adjusting himself behind you and pulling your leg up and draping it over his hip. There, he slips out of you only slightly to hear you whine at the loss. You’ve gone so silent save for moaning and he thinks he’s in love with you. Stuffing you again, he smiles at the way you throw your head back and look at him from behind you.

One hand now reaches around you and cradles one of your tits, the other snaking between your legs and experimentally tapping against your clit.

“Damn, Mark,” You manage to say in a more stable voice, realizing that he’s really fucking you in the spooning position now? Of course he fucking would. It’s such an intimate position, and the angle, you could argue, is one of the best you think you’ve ever felt.

“Hm?” He hums against your shoulder, feeling your body jerk as he fucks his length into you repeatedly. “Feels good, right?” He asks, moaning himself this time at the way you close your legs around his hand and grind back against him.

He’s quick to abandon your clit to push your legs open again, draping it right back in the same spot over his own legs. He can imagine how spread out you look, despite not being able to see it in this position. He’s heard time and time that women like this angle, and now’s the chance to test it.

This time, when you reach back and pull his face to yours, now kissing him with more force than you had before, he imagines the rumors were true. His fingers find their way back to your clit.

Mark’s moving his hips with intent now, trying his best to control how good he feels so that way he can focus on yours, and after one particularly deep thrust, he notices that you jolt and shiver.

“Oh my god, did I find it?” He asks, experimentally pressing his hips up the same way.

“Fuck-” You choke out, your body jolting without intent again and feeling shockwaves of what you can only describe as mini orgasms shooting throughout your muscles. “Right there, keep doing that,” You frantically encourage him, mouth falling slack against his lips.

He does, pressing his hips harder this time in the same pay. Repeatedly hitting the soft spot inside of you and ultimately sending you into a world of something you’ve, strangely, never felt before in terms of sex.

Mark watches you roll your head back, moaning out with a slack and somewhat pained face as he does it. He cannot fucking believe he found your g-spot on the first try and he will be damned to stop now.

He focuses now, grunting at the way your walls clench him so tightly each time he hits your spot with the head of his cock. He’s determined to make you come, make you babble out strings of his name and how good he feels. He needs you to feel so good that you’ll never think twice of letting him do this again, and again, and again, no matter how close you could be to getting caught.

His hips are going at a pace faster now than he thought possible, and with his fingers working your clit paired with his cock driving into the single most pleasurable spot inside of you, you find your body tensing up and your mind erasing every thought and memory. It’s so much to feel at once but you feel too weak to stop him for just the smallest moment of collecting yourself.

“Are you going to?” He asks, broken with his own moans and deep breaths as he does his best to keep pace and work you through it. “I know you want to.” He manages to breathe out, mimicking your own words from the time you had him in the palm of your hand.

And you do want to. So you fucking do. You come hard around him, clenching him so tightly that Mark stills his hips in disbelief at the way your body moves when you release. He can barely get the words out when he speaks, feeling you drench him with liquid fire. “You’re squeezing me so tight–” He chokes out, jerking his hips back and trying to pull out of you for his own release.

“Do not pull out,” You groan as your orgasm continues to choke you of your breath. “Let me feel it, do it.” You demand, pressing yourself back and enveloping the inches of him that he had pulled from you.

“Fuck. fuck.” He moans out louder this time, hands gripping your waist and holding you against him as he shakes behind you. You can feel him twitch inside of you as he shoots those thick, white ropes of cum against your walls. For a brief moment you remembered when he released from your hand, pressing himself slowly and roughly into your first. You were right.

Mark buries himself as deep as he can go, only grinding back a few centimeters before pressing himself flush against you as another spurt paints the flesh inside of you. You feel so full, and he’s packed so tightly in you that you genuinely think this is the first time you’ve ever actually felt a man come inside of you. Like really feel it.

When he’s done, he’s so fucking fast to pull out of you. It shocks you, actually.

“Where are you going?” You ask, looking behind you as he backs away from you momentarily in a panic.

“I–” He pauses, looking at you and the way your eyes look back at him in a different type of panic. “Don’t know.” He says, getting back onto the bed and reluctantly putting his arms around you in a hug.

“I don’t know how to like, end this.” He admits against your shoulder, still reeling from the fact that it happened, but now in a post-nut state of mind and kind of scared of how much he loved doing that with you.

“End it?” You ask, pulling away from him. “You want to stop?”

“You don’t?” He asks, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

“I mean, we both know what we are doing…” You trail off, sitting yourself up and fully aware that the guilt will always hit you at random times, but still, you want Mark. “And we still kept doing it.”

“Yeah, but–”

“But?” You ask, turning your body to face him as he sits himself up now. The nakedness of your bodies is not at all embarrassing at this moment.

“Mark, I don’t think I can like, not want you if you still want me.”

He nods his head reluctantly, wondering if this is you offering the fact that you’re willing to straight up, blatantly, and shamelessly cheat on Doyoung with him.

“Ugh,” Mark puts his face in his hands and then runs his fingers through his hair. “This is so fucked up.”

“Yeah, it is.” You admit, leaning towards him. “But If you never tell anyone,”

“No, no! I wouldn’t.” Mark throws his hands up defensively. “I only feel bad when you’re not here.” He says questioning himself. “I don’t think I’d be able to like, not ever do this again.”

“So we are both in this same little fucked up boat?” You ask.

“I guess so.” He laughs at himself, and then at you. “If he ever finds out, you know i’ll be found in a ditch somewhere, right?”

You laugh, despite it being the worse fucking joke in the world. Running hand in hand with Mark into a fire that you both fucking searched for.

“Well, I’m not gonna fucking tell him.” You say, pressing the important matter at hand. “The point is, Mark, I need you to understand that I’ve never cheated on anyone.”

Somehow, he lightens the mood.

“Damn, I must be special.”

You guess he is.

#mark lee smut #mark smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #neo-hub #nct-writers #nct dream smut #mark lee fic

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rainverry · 1 year

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warning/s: profanity, consumption of alcohol, tiny bit of angst @nct-writers

[12:29 AM]

jaehyun is drunk – you can tell by the redness of his ears and the way he slurs his words. his stubbornness is also clearly amplified when he’d arrived on your doorstep moments earlier and refused to come in. instead, he chooses to stand on the sidewalk, staring into the dark and empty street with you.

“i love you so much, baby,” he whispers, reaching out to touch your face. your body warms at his words, but you’re taken aback when he pulls away and suddenly shouts into the dead of the night, “i fucking love you!”

“jaehyun, shh!” you reprimand, grabbing his hands that he had dramatically thrown into the air to emphasise his declaration. “you’ll wake the neighbours up.”

jaehyun looks down at his hands clasped in yours and smiles sorrowfully. “i don’t care,” he mumbles. “you don’t love me anymore.”

with that, his eyes turn glossy with tears and your heart breaks at the sight.

“hey, what are you talking about?” you ask softly, caressing his cheek which pains you even further when you realise he’s started crying. jaehyun leans into your touch, closing his eyes and savouring the comfort that he may never get to feel again. when he doesn’t answer, you take his hands into yours. “jaehyun, what’s wrong?”

his mournful smile is back again. “taeyong said you’re leaving me. i’m sorry if i did anything wrong, i love y–”

the sound of your ringtone slices through the night and you rush to answer the call and put it on speaker.

“hello?”

taeyong’s frantic voice cracks through the phone. “is jaehyun with you?”

“no, i’m not,” jaehyun replies foolishly before you could speak.

“oh thank god,” taeyong’s relief is clear as he rambles on, “listen, y/n, jaehyun’s been drinking and–and johnny gave me this stupid dare to tell him that you were going to break up with him, so i did it and i left him for a split second and he was already gone, i’m–”

“taeyong, you idiot,” you snarl, “i’ll deal with you tomorrow.”

when you kill the call, you look up to see a glimmer of hope that flits across jaehyun’s expression.

“so you don’t want to break up with me?” he asks meekly.

“of course not, babe, i love you too much!” you wrap your arms around jaehyun in a hug, and you immediately feel him melt into your embrace as all of his worries fade away. “come on, let’s get you sobered up and into bed.”

masterlist

#nct-writers #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #nct angst #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct timestamps #jaehyun scenarios #mine #*#my finals are over!!!!#so what better way to celebrate other than writing some angsty fluff?#this fic pairs well with gold dust btw

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jungwnies · 1 year

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syn - she fell but he fell harder (fluff) pair - fem!reader x boyfriend!mark

in the beginning it was a bit awkward. you couldn’t tell whether or not he really did like you. and you were scared he was going to leave you.

not because he didn’t like like you but because the amount of interest you showed him was different from what he showed you.

you thought, maybe this is just the person he is. and you were going to either have to deal with it or find someone better.

and after a while you gave mark the ultimatum.

“mark if you want to be with me you’re going to have to prove it, otherwise i’m not sure i can do this with you anymore.”

and from there everything changed.

—

at night he would hold you close, afraid to let you go. he wasn’t someone who really needed someone to sleep besides but he needed you. he craved you.

don’t forget to take a picture of the golden hour for me. is something he asked of you every time you left town to go sight-seeing.

he admired the sky, because you were looking at the same one he was. "no matter what, we're always together." he told you holding your hand under the stars.

you didn't think mark was going to change, but he did. he loved you harder, he fell for you harder, you might've fell first, but he would do anything to you.

he was the one for you in a million different universes, there was no else like you for him.

so he got on one knee, just the two of you, the sound of a soft current from the wind passing your ears, under a clear dark sky with the same stars shining.

He held your hand and asked, "y/n, will you marry me?"

903 notes · View notes

slightlymore · 2 years

Text

if I lose my mind

dream sorter haechan x dreamer fem reader

genre: fantasy/tim burton-esque??, romance, smut, angst!!, fluffy moments

warnings: nightmare content (tame), strong language, explicit sexual content [oral f, fingering, mutual masturbation, spit, cum play, dirty talk, manhandling, overstimulation, biting, hickey m]

other characters: taeyong and doyoung as yn’s friends; mark, chenle and taeil as haechan’s friends, jisung

words: 14.5k

you’ve never cared much for your dreams. they were always confusing nonsense you forgot in the morning. this until you started to have the same dream again and again and again: a lobby, pleasant elevator music in the background, many golden doors, a handsome young man welcoming you and asking where you wanted to go that night. his name was haechan and apparently you weren’t supposed to know that, let alone fall in love with him.

______

Third time's a charm, they say, and the third time you had the same eerie dream of the same hotel lobby, even your careless ass had to ask yourself what the hell was going on.

You’ve never thought much of your dreams - just a bunch of scenarios your brain was trying to get rid of information through.

But lately, eyes still full of sleep after waking up in a cold sweat, you'd wonder what the hell you've been watching for your brain to create the same scenario again and again during the night.

"And it's all purple," you recounted, telling your friend Taeyong the story of your recurring dream for the third time that week. "A hotel lobby and this little music in the background. It's not scary at all but it's weird. I've been dreaming of the same scene so many times in a row now."

"Yeah," he hummed as if seriously concerned. "Maybe it's class and the workload. It's been a bit stressful lately."

You were walking towards the university building not actually seeing where you put your feet. "Well, it's not like we're learning anything about hotels and purple," you replied then chuckled to yourself.

"Maybe you're falling asleep listening to specific music which translates into elevator tunes in your brain."

You sighed. "Maybe I should stop drinking Red Bulls."

"Anyway, the dreams will eventually stop," Taeyong assured you.

You nodded, starting to feel a bit uneasy at Taeyong’s serious replies. You wanted him to perhaps laugh at your weird dreams with you. That way they would have become stupid laughing matter. Yet, Taeyong just made you more nervous.

And, no matter how much he could assure you that the dreams will eventually stop, when you went to sleep that night you found yourself opening your eyes to that same damned hotel lobby.

Same shit as every night. You scratched your eyebrow then huffed. Then you crossed your arms.

Was it normal to be mad inside your dreams? Because you were mad.

Wait, were you lucid dreaming? Because you were pretty aware that it was a dream.

Your eyes scanned the already familiar room and you counted what you could remember: purple floors, purple walls, pink counter, green wall? Your eyebrows furrowed and you took a step forward.

There was no green accent wall before.

"Oh, this wall was added today so I can pop up better against it," a voice suddenly vibrated into the air and you jumped in place, an embarrassing sound coming from your chest.

On your side was standing a man. He was looking at the wall as if analyzing it from your perspective.

Then he looked at you. His eyes were dark and amused.

You gulped.

He was wearing a bellboy uniform, all purple, and his hair was an uncertain mix of curly pink. His pouty lips stretched in a smile and he walked behind the baby pink counter.

"Like this," he explained, posing against the green wall, one hand on the hip as if to explain the eccentric colour choice of the place. It actually looked pretty well together, you found yourself thinking for a second.

Then you shook your head. It felt like being in that Grand Budapest Hotel movie but directed by both Tim Burton and Hayao Miyazaki at the same time.

"What the actual fuck is going on?" you asked when you found your voice.

The man straightened his back while clearing his throat and he put his gloved hands on the counter in a proper pose. "Good night. This is the Dreaming Lobby. Where do you want to go this time?" he recited.

You blinked at him then looked around as if a filming crew could come out any time soon to yell "hidden camera prank".

But it was impossible.

Because you were dreaming. Dreams were allowed to be weird, right?

"Who greets with good night?" you walked over trying to read the cards on the counter but they were all gibberish.

You felt like a Sim. It was weird the man wasn’t talking in Simlish.

Maybe he was.

"This is a dream. Right?" you added.

The man's customer service smile didn't leave his face. "It's night so I wish you a good night,” he explained.

He didn't comment on the possibility of you being in a dream or not.

"Well, that's what you say at the end of things. When you leave or when you put someone to sleep," you tried to reason with him.

"At the end, when you leave, I say good morning."

You closed your eyes for a moment as if your head hurt. "What's this place?"

"The Dreaming Lobby."

"Who are you?"

The man hesitated for a second as if not expecting that question. "The Dream Sorter?"

His voice sounded unsure. You’d think dream people were confident in their weirdness.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly trying to oxygenate your brain. "So you sort dreams?"

The man shook his head. "I sort you into dreams."

"So it's your fault I've been having this dream for the fourth time now?"

The bell boy's eyebrows furrowed and his customer service face disappeared.

"What do you mean?" His real voice was so different from the polite tune he put on that you shivered.

You crossed your arms on your chest. "I keep dreaming of this purple lobby and this shit ass music in the background."

"You dream," the man gulped silently, "me too?"

You eyed his adam apple move for a moment then your gaze went back to his face. He looked calm and panicked at the same time.

"No. This is the first time seeing you," you replied, giving him a suspicious look.

The other nodded soon after as if relieved. "This must have been some error on my part. You're not supposed to remember this place when you wake up. You won't dream of this again. I apologize,” he recited quickly, back to his trilly tone.

"What do you mean remember? You're telling me every night I come to this place and I don't remember it when I wake up?"

The man made a face as if regretting talking too much. But then his expression relaxed just as quickly. "Precisely."

"You know me?"

The bell boy leaned on his elbows and put his face on his palms.

His eyes were calm and soft like a cat’s. You were expecting to hear purring any time soon.

"You always come in, look around with furrowed eyebrows and ask what this place is. Then you choose a door and you leave. Then again and again and again every night,” he explained. "You never ask me who I am, though," he mumbled to himself.

"What?" you asked, not having heard him properly over your thoughts making you dizzy while trying to understand that damned dream.

"No, it's okay. You'll forget about this anyway. Don't worry,” he waved one hand in front of his face. “I'll make sure you don't remember this place again. You'll only remember the dreams you actually have after you walk through those doors."

You looked at his polite face then at the doors he indicated. They were big golden doors, 3 on one side of the room and 3 on the other.

"Which door is the waking up one?"

The man pondered. "I don't know. You just need to choose and see where that takes you."

You gave him a last look, and with weak legs, you walked towards the closest one.

The handle was cold and you took in just how huge and expensive they looked. You expected the door to be very heavy so you almost tripped when you pulled. A silent scream erupted from you and you felt like going blind because of the light. It engulfed you all and you woke up gasping in your bed. Your chest was shaking with your heavy breath and when you passed one hand on your face and you felt sweat.

The man told you you'd forget that dream yet his perfect face was burned inside your eyelids.

_________

As soon as your back disappeared behind the golden door, Haechan exhaled deeply, feeling his knees wobbly as every time he'd see you.

But that was routine.

This time something else happened.

He passed one hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating too fast for his liking. His brain was working just as fast trying to make sense of that exchange.

Recurring dreams? Of course. It was possible if your subconscious needed that. Dreams after all were realities each person created for themselves. Not even him could tell what one would find behind one of those doors: a nice dream or a nightmare.

But not once he'd heard of a Dreamer remembering the Lobby before.

There could be only one reason why a Dreamer would remember it. But Haechan didn’t want to think about it.

Lost in his thoughts he almost missed the ding of the elevator and your figure appearing again.

What the hell were you doing back in the same night?

Shit.

He put his best smile on.

"Good night. This is the Dreaming Lobby. Where do you want to go this time?"

He was used to faking it after all. That was the main training part. Act as if you see the Dreamer for the first time even if you've seen them every single night for years. He was a pro at it - being fake. Top of his class. He smugly accepted the trophy of being the best fake bitch.

Your eyes scanned him and the surroundings as usual.

Then your eyes locked and he could see the way you looked at him.

Not as if seeing him for the first time like usual.

"This can't fucking be," you whispered.

Haechan's guts felt like dropping.

"You said I'd stop remembering this," you walked the distance separating Haechan from you.

Your voice sounded mad but Haechan learned to sense fear underneath that.

He panicked, unsure if showing you how shocked he was as well or gaslighting you.

Why were you remembering the Lobby? No. Fuck the Lobby.

Why were you remembering him?

Then your eyes fell on his chest.

"Haechan?" you read the little shiny tag. The man's eyes widened and he was quick to cover it with his hand.

"How did you understand that?"

"You're asking me questions? I woke up in the middle of the night and I could remember everything and when I fell asleep again I ended up here again? And now I can read these too," you grabbed the pamphlets from the counter you couldn’t decipher before.

Feeling tired? Just sleep.

Falling teeth, falling down, or just falling: the guide.

Stop dreaming of going to school in underwear in 5 simple steps.

"Choose a door, please."

Haechan's voice became suddenly low and very grave.

You lifted your eyes from the papers to see his serious expression.

"What?"

"Choose a door and dream. You need to get out of here. Quick."

"Wait!" you tried to stop him but he was already walking around the counter and his hands were on your arms, urging you to walk towards a random golden door.

"Wait a second-," you mumbled.

He opened it and pushed you inside.

Haechan's hands were trembling when he grabbed the phone and a lazy voice picked up.

"What do you want?"

"Listen, I hate hearing from you but I need help."

The man on the other side of the line groaned and Haechan could almost see the way Chenle rolled his eyes. "What? My Dreamer is about to come. I’m busy."

"My Dreamer remembered the Lobby. Four times."

"Shit," the other's tone changed. "I'll put you through with the Boss."

Haechan bit his lower lip.

He didn't add that you were remembering him too.

__________

That morning you chose to not tell Taeyong everything about the crazy dreaming night you had. After that man, Haechan you remembered he was called, pushed you past a door, you had one of the worst nightmares of your life.

"I was driving in the middle of nowhere and it was night. Perhaps raining too. And in front of me suddenly a figure appeared and I yelled and hit the brakes but instead of crashing I looked to the passenger seat and the figure was there and I yelled again and woke up," you told Taeyong only the last dream.

"Fucking hell. You must indeed be very stressed. Maybe you were sleeping weirdly. If you're hot or if you had food close to when you go to bed it's common to have nightmares. If you sleep on your back too. You might even end up having sleep paralysis-"

"Okay, that's enough." You didn't want Taeyong to fuel your dreams even more with those scenarios. “How do you even know all of that stuff?”

"No lobby dream though? That's an improvement,” he ignored your question with a smile.

You remained quiet. For some reason, you felt weird to share such vivid dreams with him. It sounded too crazy.

Haechan said you would always end up there, in the Lobby, and he'd help you choose a door, or a dream. Meaning he allegedly saw you night after night while you used to forget everything in the morning. That up until now. Did something shift?

What dream could that be? Should you start seeing a therapist?

The day ran quickly as you tried to not think of dreaming. Or the way the sun kept sliding away underneath the horizon making you dread the moment you'd have to go to bed and sleep.

The thought of having another confusing encounter with the lobby man and a nightmare afterwards was terrifying.

Not that he looked bad or scary or anything. He was a rather pleasant-looking man, even handsome. Hell, he was a dreamy man, pun intended.

But the recurring dream was too confusing for you to enjoy any of its happenings. You had to understand what was going on first.

You thought you could skip one night of sleep that night for your own sanity, but as soon as you put your head on the pillow the tiredness got the best of you.

You opened your eyes to the sound of an elevator ding and its doors opening.

Usually, you’d already be in the Lobby. That night, though, you woke up in the elevator. The hue of purple and lime green came first through the doors sliding to the sides, before you actually saw that damned room.

"Good night. This is the-

"You can cut it," you stopped Haechan from finishing his usual line.

The man was at his usual spot behind the counter, his open lips frozen around the vowel. "Whatever you are doing, it's not working. I'm still remembering everything."

You walked towards him and eyed the pamphlets as if expecting something new to pop up but they were the same. Then you looked at his name tag - Haechan. Then you locked eyes with him. He closed his mouth. You furrowed your eyebrows analyzing his features. You had no idea if he had moles before or if that place birthed new details for you to notice every time.

"I had the most terrifying nightmare last night," your tone was accusatory.

"I am aware."

"You-," you stopped and took one step back. "What do you mean you are aware? Can you see my dreams?"

Haechan hesitated. "Yes? I am a Dream Sorter."

"You see in my brain when I sleep?" you were dumbfounded.

Then you became mortified just as quickly, your eyes losing focus as you realized: the list of wet dreams you've had before flashing before your eyes making you almost dizzy.

Haechan seemed to have understood what you were thinking about because he cleared his throat and looked elsewhere.

"I am sorry I shoved you into a dream like that last night. Please choose one door by yourself calmly this time."

"Oh no, I am not going into one of those."

Haechan blinked at you. "What?" He visibly didn’t expect you to say that.

You blinked back, lifting your chin as if daring him to push past one door again if he had the balls.

"I am staying here."

Haechan sighed as if to compose himself and he put on the little customer service smile you were growing to find annoying. "I am afraid you can't do that. You need to choose one door to have a dream or to wake up," he indicated both options with his palms like a scale.

"Or," you stepped back, turning around the room as if about to explore, "I can hang out with you here until I understand what the hell is going on."

"Y/N," he said, dropping the fake smile and walking around the counter to get to you.

Your name on his lips took you by surprise.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know everything about you," he cut it short. "Please, just go into dreams until I figure this out. It's dangerous for you to be here too long."

You looked him up and down.

"Are you- what are you anyway?"

He blinked, taken by surprise. "A man. I know I'm gorgeous and all but like-"

"No, I mean, are you real? A human?"

Haechan scoffed once. "Unbelievable. Is this what you want to know? Touch me and see for yourself."

You lifted one hand but hesitated. The man grabbed it and gently pushed your palm against his chest.

You gulped, eyes trained on the way your fingers could feel the fabric of his uniform and the heart beating underneath. His hand was warm and soft. A real human hand.

Then you slid it up on his chest until reachin his jaw, feeling the very short stubble growing, and then you poked his cheek with one finger.

Haechan closed the eye above the cheek you touched.

"Are you done?"

You touched his hair. It was very fluffy and a bit damaged.

"This is not your real colour."

"No shit Sherlock. Who comes out of the womb with faded pink hair?"

"So you're a real human. Like a human from my real world."

Haechan bit his lower lip. "Classified information."

"Classified information my ass. If you explain this place maybe I can understand what's going on and help you too. Given your reaction, I understand that me remembering this place is causing you serious issues."

"Listen. I appreciate your help. But I can deal with this on my own. Please just go inside a dream."

"You're coming with me or I'm not going."

Haechan's eyes rounded. "What? You’re such a-"

"You heard me. I'm not risking getting into a nightmare alone."

"I can't-,"

"Then I'll stay here. Forever. You’ll probably lose your job or whatever, right? Well, I don’t care."

"You're so fucking annoying," he shook his head and headed back to the counter to get something. It was a cellphone.

"Uhm rude? You're literally a hotel bellboy and I'm apparently your customer."

"I think we're past that formality at this point," he turned around and opened his palms. "Well? Where to?"

__________

You opened your eyes to a dark forest. It was cold and wet and you almost slipped as you took a step back. You hit a wall with your blades and you yelped turning around.

"Calm down. You almost broke my nose with that hard-ass head you got."

It wasn't a wall. It was Haechan.

You felt weak. Haechan was actually with you in your dream.

"It worked!" you yelled.

The man sighed at your excitement.

"This means it's all real. You're actually a Dream Sorter. The Lobby is real. I'm lucid dreaming. Am I lucid dreaming right now? Or am I shifting? Is this shifting? Am I moving realities when I dream?"

Haechan let you recite your anxious monologue for a moment, watching your face go through all sorts of emotions at the same time.

"If this is lucid dreaming it means I can just create the dream I want to?" you kept going.

He watched you close your eyes with hands clasped together under your chin as if praying and he scoffed.

“Are you trying to create something right now?”

When you opened your eyes and looked around nothing changed.

"It's more complicated than that. Let's go,” Haechan continued, seeing your disappointment.

You looked at his back as he started to walk the dirt path in the forest and you noticed he had different clothes - dark jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket instead of the obnoxious purple uniform.

"Where are we going?" you sprinted a bit to catch up with him.

"I don't know. This is your dream."

Then you noticed his hair, a dark cold brown, longer in the back as to create a short mullet.

"Why did you change appearance?"

Haechan passed one hand through his fringe as if he didn’t know he didn’t have pink hair anymore. "You did this."

"I did? No, I didn't."

"It's your dream, baby. You did this all. Maybe you like bikers and brunettes better."

The thought of your subconscious being open to Haechan made you anxious. And that baby just added to it.

“You also changed appearance,” he pointed out and you stopped in place. You were wearing a white thin sleeping gown like those creepy women in horror movies. You had no idea why that and not a cute outfit like Haechan.

"Wow, you're literally walking inside the deepest parts of me right now," you reflected, starting to walk again and looking around the forest.

"I'm honoured. There are many deep parts of you I'd like to be in but this one is also good."

You stopped in place. "Oh my God. You didn’t just say that."

Haechan chuckled at your expression and lifted his palms in front of himself. "Sorry. This is the personality you're giving me in your dream."

“That’s not true.”

“Unfortunately it is. I am whoever you want me to be right now.”

"You're fucking with me."

"Not yet."

You ignored his smirk. "You're lying. This is probably just you being you. I can't possibly give you-," you indicated his whole being, "-all of this." You felt your whole face on fire.

"Well, not consciously. You had so many dreams like this. Remember that dream of Taeyong wearing a choker and being on his knees begging-"

"Shut the fuck up! That dream never happened!"

Haechan laughed delightedly at your pointed finger.

"I was so disturbed by that, what the hell. He's my friend. I don't like him like that."

The bell boy - well, now a biker for the time being - didn't reply.

"Which means it's not me who creates dreams,” you continued your reflection. “They're just weird shit my brain creates randomly. Meaning you're not this way because I want to. It’s random. Case closed." You were satisfied with your brainstorm session.

"It's okay if you want to see my ass in tight pants. Don't excuse yourself."

"Stop with this attitude! Also, that would be a plothole. I'm not dreaming of you. You're a person with me in my dream. You have autonomy."

You finished the debate then looked around. The forest starting to look even darker than before. A chill travelled down your spine and you rubbed your arms as if to soothe yourself.

"What tells you I am a real person in your dream right now? Maybe I'm just a figment of your imagination," Haechan’s voice lowered. "You're dreaming after all,” he added.

You tried to see his face but it was half-hidden in the darkness of the forest.

"Haechan, don't scare me."

He turned around and you could see his eyes. He smiled.

"You're safe with me. But still, be careful. Don’t trust people in your dreams.”

That sounded like a warning.

Then a trill made the forest shift. It sounded like a bird or something else you were sure you've heard before.

Haechan looked around peacefully as if he was used to that, and then his eyes found yours again.

"Time to wake up."

You furrowed your eyebrows and yelled as he suddenly pushed you but no sound came out of you.

You woke up in your bed, head spinning and throat dry to the sound of your alarm.

__________

Taeyong said you looked mad all day. And well, how could you not be after Haechan pushed you like that to wake you up? You were still feeling like falling although you were walking.

When you were dreaming everything seemed so real that you wouldn't even question if that was reality or not.

But when you were awake, walking around campus with your friends and having lunch under the shining sun, you kept calling yourself stupid for believing there was actually a place where a man was sorting you into dreams.

And that man being the closest to an ideal man you’ve ever encountered.

Of course, it had to be a dream.

“Do you reckon day dreams are different from night dreams?” you asked after gulping your food.

Taeyong and Doyoung were focusing on their own lunch. “Huh?” the second asked.

“She’s been having weird dreams lately so she’s very into the topic,” Taeyong explained with a chuckle.

“Oh, really? I don’t think there’s any difference between sleeping and dreaming during the day and doing that at night,” Doyoung commented.

“We don’t reach REM during a nap though, do we? That’s the moment we have the most vivid dreams,” Taeyong questioned, gaining an impressed look from the other. “What? I took some classes about it.”

You whipped your phone to Google. Do we reach REM during naps? you typed.

The results made your eyes widen. “We do it if it's longer than 90 minutes.”

“Great. What do you need all this info for, though?” Doyoung had a sip of water.

“I’m going to see if I dream the same things during the day outside of REM or not,” you mumbled quickly, standing and grabbing your stuff.

The two men watched you a bit concerned. “Where are you going? We have afternoon class.”

“I’m going to nap less than 90 minutes so I won't reach REM and hopefully I don’t dream at all or I dream something else for once,” you filled them in quickly leaving so fast to almost throw them away from their chairs. “It��s an experiment!”

You weren’t a big napper. Not because you didn’t want to but because you didn’t have the luxury of time as a college student. But that issue was bigger than anything. You had to understand what the hell those dreams meant before you could go insane.

You enjoyed doing research for class and you decided to consider that situation just something to research.

Does Haechan and the Lobby exist? If yes, how? If not, how, and why were you having the same lucid dreams again and again?

The spot you chose for your nap wasn’t ideal but an empty class felt safer than a full one. You sighed, placing your head on your arms and closing your eyes after setting your alarm for 30 minutes, wondering if you were going to dream anything or if you were about to waste your time.

But you didn’t have to wonder too long, because almost in the blink of an eye you inhaled deeply and the ding of the elevator entered your ears.

Your eyes were still closed and you tried to feel your body.

You felt very real.

You begged all entities to just give you something else, anything else, besides that fucking Lobby.

But when you opened your eyes slowly it was there.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

You stepped outside the elevator feeling your blood pressure go up. “Fuck,” you repeated. “This can’t be real.”

It was the same place as ever. The purple walls and the green accent one. The golden doors, the pink counter.

The only thing missing was Haechan.

You looked at the pamphlets. How was it possible for you to dream the same writings again and again?

Looking around and seeing no sign of the Bellboy you walked around the counter taking his place. You eyed an old-style phone and some empty journals. You opened the drawers to see some snacks and a pair of white gloves. You took one to try it on. It fit you a bit loosely on the tips of the fingers.

You sighed. Why wasn’t Haechan there? So it was a random dream afterwards? Or was he in the bathroom or something?

Then you looked behind you, trying to see if there were any other hidden doors when the phone rang and you jolted.

You stared at it for a few seconds as if it were a poisonous snake. Ringing phones in horror movies and dreams weren’t lovely.

But then you inhaled and got closer. It was a dream after all.

You could wake up anytime. Right?

You picked it up and brought it to your ear, waiting.

“Good afternoon, this is Mark from the Data sector. We’ve been notified that your Dreamer is dreaming right now. As it rarely happens during the day we were trying to check if you got notified of it too and had taken the position yet or not.”

You felt your blood flow out of your body.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” the voice, you understood was some man called Mark, spoke again.

You brought one hand to your mouth so as to not make any noise.

“Haechan?” he repeated.

You put down the phone with a clang and you ran towards the first golden door you could see. The whiteness engulfed you all and you gasped, waking up in the classroom, your hair messy and dry mouth at the sound of your alarm. With trembling fingers, you tried to turn it off but for some reason, you couldn’t touch the phone screen well.

Then you realized it was because you were wearing a white glove.

__________

"Rule number fucking 1! No falling in love! Are you perhaps dumb?"

Haechan stared at Taeil’s furrowed eyebrows and his index finger hitting the desk in front of him.

As a Boss, he didn’t look intimidating at all.

"Rules are meant to be broken,” Haechan replied simply just for the sake of it.

"Say that again and I am spanking you."

Haechan lifted one eyebrow and opened his mouth to invite Taeil to go on.

"Don't you dare,” was the reply.

Haechan nodded once and zipped the imaginary zipper on his lips.

Taeil scoffed. “You don’t want to be funny right now, I assure you.”

Haechan sighed. “I am not in love. That makes no sense. Something else must have happened.”

“If a Dreamer remembers the Lobby and the Dream Sorter it means the Dream Sorter created some sort of connection with the Dreamer.”

Haechan listened to Taeil recite that while mimicking the words with his own mouth. He had to learn that by heart in school until he got sick.

“Well, I didn’t,” Haechan replied.

Taeil was his friend and that gave Haechan enough guts to act the way he wanted to. Unfortunately, their friendship also meant Taeil was an expert on Haechan shenanigans.

Taeil crossed his arms on his chest and waited.

“Okay, okay, listen. I am as shocked as you are, alright?” Haechan sat down in front of Taeil’s desk. “I have no clue what’s going on. Suddenly she came in and she could remember the Lobby then after a few nights she could remember me too. But I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

Taeil didn’t comment.

“I am doing my best! I haven’t been giving her any information. We don’t talk much. She's entering dreams. All good. I have things under control.”

“I think we just need to give your another Dreamer-”

“No!”

“Aha!” Taeil got up with an accusatory smile. “Why not?”

Haechan’s cheeks bloomed with dust of red. He got up as well.

“If you don’t care about her, why do you care if you get another Dreamer or not?” Taeil went on.

“I will fix this,” Haechan replied while touching his buzzing inner jacket pocket. “I promise. Just give me some time. But don’t give me another Dreamer.”

Taeil scoffed incredulously, hands on the hips. “What’s wrong?” he asked after seeing Haechan reading his texts.

“She’s here in the middle of the afternoon,” he mumbled.

Taeil’s fringe got a new wave from the sheer velocity of Haechan running away.

_________

You had no idea who you could talk to about that whole issue. Even if you showed the glove to someone they’d still think you were slowly descending into madness.

And you were feeling like that indeed.

But you knew you had no damn glove on your hand before going to nap.

The afternoon classes were forgotten as you stormed home, your mind busy only with dreams. Google had no answers for your questions and the fact that the afternoon nap gave you even more questions than answers drove you insane.

But what could you do? It’s not like you could stop sleeping. You’d probably die.

Turning around in your chair you almost didn't notice the ding of the elevator.

You inhaled deeply.

"Hey," Haechan was near the entrance that night as if waiting for you. He looked worried.

"Hey," you stepped out, a sudden wave of anxiety washing over you too.

Did he notice you came in the afternoon? You felt as if you got caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

"Are you having a good day?" you tried to sound casual. "I mean, night."

You walked towards the counter as if bored, while your brain was busy trying to understand if it was a good idea to tell him that you woke up with a glove. You felt your throat dry.

Then you realized he wasn't real anyway so there was no reason to feel anxious.

When you turned around to speak, Haechan's hands were lifted in front of himself. One has a white glove. The other was bare.

"Right! About that," you indicated his fingers with a fake chuckle. "Yeah, I took it by mistake this afternoon.”

He blinked as if the confirmation of his doubts still shocked him.

"I have no idea how it happened but at this point, I'm probably just going insane," you chuckled again, with no amusement in your voice, looking a bit crazy indeed.

"Y/N," Haechan said softly, taking a step further, but without touching you.

You felt your cheeks getting warm with tears. You wiped them off fast as if they enraged you.

"I just- don't understand anything and no one would believe me and I'm so exhausted all the time because I feel like I don't sleep well and my brain is all mush and during the day all I do is think of this damn lobby and you and I think I’m about to get real hysterical-"

"Shh, it's okay," Haechan hesitated then patted your arm a bit.

"No, it's fucking not. And I don't want to go into one of those doors and walk into a forest and have you push me awake like that ever again!"

"It's a Friday," he said all of a sudden.

"What?" you wiped your tears again, a bit annoyed at the interruption but also surprised.

"You can sleep in. You have no alarms on the weekends,” he explained.

"And how do you know that?"

"I told you I know everything about you. Let's find a nice dream, come."

You stared at Haechan's fingers grabbing your hand. His touch felt so nice that you wanted to hold onto it tighter.

"What about the glove? How is that possible?"

You let go of his hand.

Haechan stopped.

"I also-," you gulped. "I picked up a call,” you confessed. “They were saying your Dreamer was dreaming and they were asking you whether you were notified. This is no damn dream. This has to be reality."

The man sighed and turned around at your piercing gaze. "I can't tell you anything about it, Y/N. I am sorry."

He looked genuinely sad and apologetic.

You felt new frustrating tears sting your eyes but you exhaled. “I just wish to forget this place.” Then you walked around him and got past a random golden door.

__________

The forest this time was windy and rainy. You looked down at your body, the thin pyjamas soaked although you came in just a moment ago.

"Fuck," you looked around for something.

Then you pinched yourself like they do in the movies.

Then you slapped your face.

"Shit!" you soothed the cheek.

That was a real slap. And unfortunately, you didn't wake up.

A far away howling sound made your skin crawl so you just started to walk, trying to understand how to wake up alone.

What kind of dream was that? Was it possible for you to not have one single peaceful dream? You really missed feeling refreshed in the morning.

The howling got closer and you picked up the pace, your nude feet splashing in the dirt. Then the howling became a growl right behind you and you screamed, running as fast as you could. And when you reached a bottomless pit and your feet slipped, you could only turn around as you started to fall, your throat silent but sore because of the scream you couldn't hear.

A tight hug engulfed your body as you fell.

"I'm here. I'm here. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe," the soft lullaby started to fill your ears and you felt your chest full.

You slowly opened your eyes then your fingers gained sensitivity. They felt a thin material on a soft surface.

A shirt.

Then you felt the surface.

A human back.

Then you made sense of Haechan's body on top of you, his arms caging your head and yours hugging his torso.

"You're okay," he kept saying, eyes searching for yours.

His hair was a warm brown and his skin looked even more glowy than usual. Then you noticed the shining sun in the sky behind him and the flowers you were lying down between.

"What?" you finally spoke.

"Everything is fine," his voice sounded soft.

"Where are we?"

Haechan sighed and rolled over. It looked like he fell with you while trying to grab you.

"This is-,” he hesitated, “-my dream," he finally said.

You sat up. "What?"

Haechan passed one hand in his hair. His white summer shirt was open on his chest and although he was lying on grass it kept looking pristine.

"This is my dream. I took you in my dream," he said again.

You felt your brain hurt. "This can't be your dream. I am the one dreaming. You're in my dream."

"We're both dreaming."

"You can't be dreaming! You're not real!" you were on your feet, hands thrown around as if about to yell.

Haechan stood up as well. You locked eyes. His were black like carbons.

"Right? You're not real," your voice was becoming a little whine.

He looked away while standing and dusting his black slacks.

"What is this place? How is this possible? You have to explain now, Haechan. This is not funny anymore. I haven’t heard of dreams like these before.”

“Can’t you just trust me on this? Dreams are not something to understand with your logical mind. Just let go. I know you want to understand but nothing good will come out of it. Just-” he interrupted himself, “-just dream, please.”

You wrapped your body with your arms and sighed, looking around.

You didn’t know what to add.

“You keep having the forest nightmare because you’re confused.”

“Of course I am confused. Wouldn’t you be?”

The place was silent but peaceful. The greenery was luscious and the flowers looked like infinite dots on those hills.

A soft breeze made Haechan’s fringe gently wave on his forehead.

You bit your lower lip after calming a bit. “You look like Howl. That’s one of my favourite movies.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he looked down to eye his clothes as if he didn’t realize what he had on until that moment. Then he looked up to try and see his hair.

“Do you know who he is?” you asked.

“Yes, and this is still not my doing.”

“Well, you said this is your dream. This time it has to be you,” you shrugged and touched one flower to your side.

The place was so peaceful that your anger about the situation was diminishing. It wasn’t fair to take it on Haechan although he was keeping stuff away from you.

“I think it’s a mix of me and you.”

You looked back at him. “I did the place and you did the rest,” he added.

“Just tell me one thing. If you’re dreaming, it means you can wake up, right?”

Haechan bit his lower lip. “Maybe.”

You exhaled. “Okay. That’s the only thing I had to know. Won’t ask other questions.”

__________

Haechan couldn’t talk about that situation with anyone else. He caressed the only white glove that remained in the drawer with a mix of worry and excitement. Then he rested his hands on the counter and closed his eyes.

"Forgive me my weakness,” he mumbled to himself like a prayer. He had no idea who he was addressing to.

It was his fault. All of it. He was aware but couldn’t find the guilt in himself.

You were there, remembering him.

He has always dreamt of that, pun included.

But then he saw your expression that night and he wavered in his choice and delight.

And when you started to cry he felt sick. Of himself.

Would you forgive him if he told you it was all his fault you were in that situation?

“I just wish to forget this place,” you said and he felt his chest physically hurt.

He was the only one dying to see you night after night. After all, you didn’t know him and you were probably tired of seeing his face. He could tell that you were exhausted.

He let the heavy air out of his lungs and he was ready to grab the phone and ask to meet Taeil again. Perhaps having another Dreamer would be the right choice. He was holding onto you because of his selfish feelings, after all, causing your pain and confusion.

But then you screamed his name, his name out of all names that you could choose from.

His body has never moved faster.

“Haechan!” it was clear and loud, your arms extended towards him as your body fell into the dark pit.

He didn’t think twice.

Your body felt soft between his arms and he let that sensation as well as your scent guide the reality in its creation.

"I'm here. I'm here. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe.”

Your eyes opened and they looked so full of his image that he gulped.

No one looked at him like that before.

“You’re okay.”

"What?" you finally spoke.

Your hands palming his back made his skin shiver.

"Everything is fine,” he repeated.

"Where are we?"

He had to roll over before leaning down and just kissing you.

"This is my dream," he said.

Fuck. That wasn’t his dream. That was just his reality. He took you outside.

If anyone discovered that he was dead.

You sat up. "What?" You looked shocked.

"This is my dream. I took you in my dream," he said again, trying to not show the tremble in his voice.

"This can't be your dream. I am the one dreaming. You're in my dream."

"We're both dreaming right now."

"You can't be dreaming! You're not real!" you were on your feet, hands thrown around as if about to yell.

Haechan stood up as well. You locked eyes.

I am real. I am here and real. And madly in love with you.

"Right? You're not real," your voice was becoming a little whine.

Haechan had to look away.

"What is this place? How is this possible? You have to explain now, Haechan."

His brain was hurting. He wanted to yell as well. It was frustrating.

You wrapped your body with your arms and sighed, looking around. He wanted to hold you.

“You keep having the forest nightmare because you’re confused,” Haechan tried to give you the little information he could give.

“Of course I am confused. Wouldn’t you be?”

He was confused as well.

“Do you actually want to forget all of this? I can fix this. I can make you forget the Lobby and my existence. I can do that for you,” he was about to say but you talked before he could.

“You look like Howl. That’s one of my favourite movies”

Your expression was more peaceful and you were looking at his clothes. You’d always have that expression after a nightmare, he recounted although you couldn’t remember yourself: the face of someone scared but willing to show they’re tough through lightheartedness. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked down to eye his clothes as if he didn’t realize what he had on until that moment. Then he looked up to try and see his hair.

“Do you know who he is?”

“Yes, and this is still not my doing.”

“Well, you said this is your dream. It has to be you this time,” you shrugged and touched one flower to your side.

“I think it’s a mix of me and you.”

Could that be possible? Haechan tried to remember all the manuals he had to memorize.

You looked back at him as if waiting for more information. “I did the place and you did the rest,” he added.

He couldn’t tell you that was his reality - that all dreams people had were just his normal world.

Your eyes grew heavy again and Haechan waited.

“Just tell me one thing. If you’re dreaming, it means you can wake up.”

The silent implication was almost physical between you two: meaning he was real, meaning he was a real person asleep somewhere and dreaming just like you.

He wasn’t.

Not the way you meant it anyway.

But he was real for himself. And you were the dream for him.

Haechan bit his lower lip. “Maybe.”

You exhaled. “Okay. That’s the only thing I had to know. Won’t ask other questions.”

Then you turned around and started to walk in the flower field.

Haechan hesitated for a second then followed you.

The white clouds were huge and fluffy above you and the breeze was perfect.

You turned around all of a sudden, hands behind your back.

“How do you know I am real?” you asked.

Haechan asked himself that question often. They were all assured that Dreamers were real beings, some sort of gods with the power of creation, but how can any of them prove it? Where did these people come from? Why did they need a Dream Sorter? Haechan had no idea.

“I don’t know,” Haechan simply replied.

He started to work as a Dream Sorter to try and figure out all the secrets of his world in the first place. He still hasn’t figured out anything.

You stopped walking. “Well, I know I am real. Although this place is not.”

“I know that much too.”

“How are you both a real person and a Dream Sorter? Who sorts your dreams then?”

Haechan chuckled once. “I guess you do.”

Your expression faltered and your body suddenly became more transparent. You exchanged a last look before you woke up, leaving Haechan alone in his flower field.

__________

You do. You do. You do.

Haechan's voice rang in your ear for a while after you woke up. You rested your forehead on your palm for a moment.

Nothing made sense.

Then you looked around your sunlit room.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel exhausted. That was actually a lovely dream and you could almost feel Haechans arms still around your waist.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly. Then you noticed the white glove on your nightstand.

You took it and for some reason, you brought it to your face. The fabric that used to touch his wrist had his scent. It engulfed you before just as the way he wrapped your body in his arms.

You could remember it clearly.

“Fuck,” you fell back on the bed, hitting the pillow with your head.

__________

Haechan slowly sat down at the table. On his right Chenle sat down as well and sighed, trying to place his food down the way he felt was the most optimal for consumption.

“Fucking hell. This dude has had only nightmares lately. I’ve almost died.” He was talking about his Dreamer, a boy that went by the name of Jisung. He was famous for forcing the weirdest realities upon the Dream Sorters and he had to change a bunch of them until Chenle said he could handle it.

Chenle bit on his apple before noticing Haechan’s empty expression. Other Dream Sorters started to gather as well, the gentle murmur filling the hall for breakfast.

“What’s wrong with you? Is your Dreamer still remembering the Lobby? I thought Taeil would force you to change them.”

Haechan tilted his head to the side without replying.

Chenle shrugged as if he had no force to deal with nostalgic people that day.

“Do you think Dreamers are real people?” Haechan asked after a moment.

“Who the hell cares? They’re making our world possible and if it’s not them doing that, who the hell cares anyway?”

“I do if I’m asking, you rude ass-”

“Listen, I’m not your friend or anything-” Chenle started and Haechan scoffed at the lie, “but if you’re falling in love with your Dreamer I suggest you change Dreamer or change job. I think that’s your issue.”

Chenle finished and Haechan’s smile died.

The following night Haechan was behind the counter in his purple uniform. He was postponing any real change to that situation.

Living the day.

Reality was that he was too scared to lose you so he delayed the parting moment as much as possible.

You gave him a little smile as you walked the distance. He smiled back a bit surprised at your good mood.

“Here as always. How are you doing tonight?” you asked.

Haechan let his eyes fall on the new pyjama set you were wearing. You gulped looking elsewhere. You had no idea why you felt the urge to buy a new one but for some reason, you wanted to look cute for once.

“I am doing good. How are you?”

“I was thinking-”

“As usual,” Haechan commented.

You ignored him. “-and I’ve decided I will just make the most out of this dreaming situation.”

Your chin was lifted and Haechan chuckled once at your fake confidence. “Sounds great.”

“Only if you first tell me what you mean with me sorting your dreams. I woke up before you could explain.”

Haechan sighed. He thought about that all day. “I was lying.”

Your face fell.

“No! I mean, I wasn’t really. But,” he sighed and walked around the counter.

It was already too late to keep any more secrets and he was so exhausted himself. It wasn’t in his nature to deny himself anything and he has been denying himself your touch for too long.

“I am a real person in my perspective. And for me, you are not a real person. Just like you must be a real person in your perspective and I am not.”

You blinked at him.

Haechan sighed again at your confused expression and crossed his arms on his chest, leaning against the counter as if thinking of other ways to explain that.

“In my world, you people are some sort of gods. You create our reality and we live in it. Dream Sorters are a bunch of people like me that are assigned to make sure things don’t go to shit. We destroy crazy nightmares so we don’t have to live in them and we keep the good ones, the fun ones. Let’s say I am working for the government from your perspective.”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. “Oh. I thought I was a bellgirl in some hotel as well pushing you past golden doors and I had no idea.”

Haechan chuckled once.

“There are many jobs in my world and I happen to do this. We learn how to work with you and we need to keep the secret of your dreams being just our world,” Haechan felt safe to add.

“Your world. Because we don’t share the same.”

“Not that I am aware of.”

“What other jobs does your world have?” you asked.

You were taking the situation better than he expected. This only if you weren’t just so shocked that the reality of events still had to hit you.

Haechan thought about it. “Creating colours.”

You laughed waiting for the eventual “I am fucking with you” line but Haechan looked serious.

“Creating colours? Really? What does that even mean?”

Haechan chuckled with you trying to understand your perspective. “Just, making colours.”

“Okay, this conversation is really dream-worthy but I will believe you even if it sounds insane,” you turned towards the doors with a sigh.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked, seeing you pondering over the doors.

You hummed. “I want to have fun. Also,” you showed him your gloved hand. “I brought this back.”

Haechan looked at your fingers and at the way you gently slid the material off. He held onto that glove for a second then looked up at you.

You were extending your hand.

He hesitated then held onto it, slowly letting his fingers between yours.

“Is it okay if you come with me again? What is your boss saying?”

“He doesn’t have to know,” he whispered and you bit your lip.

Then you looked away and you walked towards a random room, dragging Haechan with you.

Then you opened it. It felt heavier that usual and when you finally pulled enough, you gasped, feeling your chest hit by something.

When you opened your eyes you realized it was the sheer volume of a bass hitting your body again and again, rhythmically.

The dark place was full of people, all dancing as a single wave under the strobing lights.

You felt your heels sting and you noticed you were wearing heels. Behind you, Haechan placed his hand on your waist to guide you in the crowd. Then you faced him when you found an empty spot.

He leaned towards your ear and you heard his “Nice dream. I’ll keep this one for ourselves.”

You smiled.

“I wonder how you made me look tonight,” he added.

He straightened his back for you to admire, and you took in the hair pushed back and the sharp jaw.

“I guess I’m very hot,” Haechan lifted one corner of his mouth at your dreamy expression. His eyelids were droopy and his collarbones were too much on display in the outfit you presumably subconsciously chose for him.

You cleared your throat and looked away.

Some people passed by you and Haechan pulled you towards himself, hands sliding even more on your body. “Careful,” he said, or yelled, in your ear again. You felt your breath shake and stop as you inhaled the cologne on his neck.

You were starting to get too used to it.

Your hands imitated his touch and you slid them upward his arms to reach his neck in an attempt to dance. The music was overwhelming but you couldn’t make sense of its rhythm, although the lyrics were loud and clear.

“I wonder, I wonder about the end, Closer, A little closer, I dream, I’m in my big dream, Closer, A little closer.”

You felt intoxicated and confused.

The lights, the music, his touch, his scent, the warmth of his skin. Drunk and dazy just like dreams could make you, you leaned in and placed a kiss on his throat, right on top of his moles.

Haechan’s fingers shifted on your back and you saw his eyelids flutter at the sensation from the corner of your eyes.

You liked that reaction, so you kissed his neck again, going up, reaching his jaw, moaning into his lips as he pressed his hand on your nape, pulling you closer.

The kiss felt messy and needy, and you bit his lower lip and he sucked on yours.

Your dress straps fell down your arm and he pressed one soft kiss to your nude shoulder. Then another one and another one, peppering soft wet kisses all over your chest. You let your head fall back, tangling your hands in his hair.

The music’s beat was as quick as your heart and when you looked Haechan in the eyes they seemed so dark and lustful that you gulped.

“Take me elsewhere,” you mouthed and he presumably understood, or maybe not because he just grabbed your chin to kiss you again, this time slower, sliding his tongue inside of your mouth.

And when you couldn’t breathe anymore and gasped, breaking that intoxicating kiss, you realized the music stopped, replaced by the sound of heavy rain hitting the glass.

You were in Haechan’s lap, tightly straddling his thighs, and he was staring at you, back flush against the headboard of a luscious bed. Then you made sense of his palms, gently moving up and down your hips.

“Where are we?”

“Elsewhere,” he simply replied.

The room was dark with the edges looking like an incomplete painting. On your left, half of the wall was just a tall window, separating you both from a huge storm.

“Elsewhere where?”

Haechan’s lips turned into a smile. “You want me to check the coordinates?”

Your eyes lightened up. “Really? You can?”

He scoffed and pulled you towards him. You grunted at the sudden kiss and he moved your hips to sit more comfortably.

You gulped, a single ‘oh’ escaping your lips like a whine as you felt yourself rub on his hard cock once.

“Yeah?” Haechan looked at you from under his eyelids.

“I’ve never had a wet dream like this before,” you mumbled, foreheads touching as you looked at each other’s lips, your breaths heavy.

“There’s always a first time.”

“Is it okay if I fuck my own Dream Sorter?”

“Do you care?”

“I care about you,” you exhaled and Haechan closed his eyes for a second as if savouring that line. “Is this going to cause you any problem?” you continued.

“You’re still as rational as ever. Just give in.”

“What if you’re one of those incubus demons and you’ve just been tricking me all of this time?”

Haechan smiled again at your fantasy. “Does it matter?”

“Well-,” you tried to keep reasoning but Haechan’s open lips went to your neck, slowly rubbing on your skin. They felt soft and his mouth was so warm that you wanted him to suck on it, biting you.

You couldn’t speak anymore.

No, you couldn’t even think.

So you just let your body do the talking, sliding your fingers into his hair and ruining the hairstyle your subconscious mind kindly gave him.

His palms were still on your hips, nudging at you ever so slightly until he fully slid his hands on your ass instead and cupped it, squeezing the flesh.

You whined as he made you rub against him for a second time, and he looked up at your face, enjoying your expression. Then his gaze fell on your chest flush against his. He adventured on it, helping himself with the tongue.

“Haechan-” your shaky voice caressed the top of his head.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to feel your body against mine,” he whispered, lips tracing your almost nude breasts.

You inhaled through your teeth at his deep husky voice and when you felt his warm palms on the underside of your boobs, helping himself reach your hard nipples, you bit your lower lip until almost drawing blood.

That dream was feeling too real to be a dream and the wet patch you were creating on Haechan’s jeans was definitely there.

You felt his tongue swirl around one nipple and you gazed down with difficulty, trying to see him through your eyelashes. You had no idea if the shiver that travelled down your spine was caused by his devilish smirk or the darkness of his eyes.

“Fuck, Haechan,” you grabbed his chin and directed his pretty face back towards your lips, knocking the air out of his lungs. His hum reverberated inside your mouth and his fingers danced on your back, drawing messy circles on your spine.

Then he grabbed your nape and pulled you back only to roll you off himself and push you into the mattress.

Your legs were quick to tighten around his hips as if you’d been used to doing that for a long time. But your thighs slid off as he lifted himself on the knees, giving you a breathtaking view of his quick hands sliding his shirt off by the collar.

You exhaled shakily, sliding your hands back into his now messy curls as he leaned back and kissed your jaw, following the line until reaching your throat. You extended your neck and he chuckled against your skin, his palms reaching the flesh of your thighs just like yours were caressing down his nude shoulders.

“Cute,” he whispered, his plump lips now travelling down to the swell of your breasts again.

He slipped away from your arms and you could only watch as he flicked your nipples with his tongue again, eyes deep and cutting under his lowered eyebrows to not miss any of your expressions. Your knees pushed on his ribs at the last kitty lick just when your whimpers started to become full-on loud moans. Haechan clicked his tongue and grabbed the underside of them, spreading your legs apart.

Your satin dress was gathered around your waist by now but Haechan didn’t bother to get rid of it.

He kissed your inner thigh instead, then the other, giving you a knowing smirk as he hooked his fingers under your panties and slid them slowly off your thighs.

You lifted your legs in the air to help him out, feeling your head dizzy and face on fire, and when you felt his delicate fingers on your calves and ankles, a little whimper escaped your chest that you concealed with a loose fist on your lips.

Haechan shook his head in disapproval.

“Hands off. I want to hear you,” he mumbled against the spots that made you shiver, lazily placing wet kisses on your legs, coming closer and closer until you lifted your hips and closed your eyes with a deep hum.

But then you opened them again at the sudden feeling of his hands on your wrists instead, harshly pressing them on the pillow above your head.

You bit your lower lip, wondering how you looked to him at that moment.

As if reading your mind, he leaned down to whisper, his fingers slowly sliding on your palms and intertwining them with yours. “You’re so fucking gorgeous right now, I might go insane.”

You gulped those words he slipped in your mouth with his tongue and curved your spine, urging him to do something more as you were going insane as well.

“Are you going to be a good girl and keep your hands off your face?”

“I can’t make any promises if you keep touching me like this,” you replied.

“I haven’t even started,” he murmured with an amused tone in his voice.

Oh, you were so wet.

Just so fucking wet.

And you felt even slicker as Haechan suddenly got back on his knees and spread you with his index and middle finger, spitting right on your sensitive clit. The saliva slowly descended to your hole and you shivered at the sensation. And when you felt those two fingers nudge at your entrance, feeling how hot and soft you were, Haechan grunted, sliding them in slowly and curling after one pump.

You whined loudly, hands grabbing at his shoulders while your head was thrown back. He kissed your inner thigh as his bicep flexed, fingerfucking you just the way you’d always wanted someone to do, and then he kissed your other thigh, while his thumb started to circle your clit.

“Oh, God,” your voice was shaky.

Your hips lifted and your legs trembled, his name escaping your throat.

Haechan grabbed those legs harshly, pressing on the underside of them and putting them on his shoulders, letting you curl your toes in the air at the way his tongue felt on you, licking one stripe up until flicking your clit once with the tip of his tongue. You felt electricity burn in your blood and you grabbed at the sheets underneath you uncontrollably. Haechan’s hums and the wet sounds made your head so dizzy that you felt high. His tongue felt flat between your folds then his lips sucked on your clit. Your hands flew to his soft hair, trying hard not to pull too much.

“Look at me,” he ordered, and the view of his wet pink tongue flicking you mercilessly while his eyes were lit up by the most mischievous sparkles was enough for you to go over the edge.

“Cumming- Haechan, cumming,” you mumbled and Haechan’s fingers tightened their hold on your thighs. They didn’t let go and his mouth didn’t stop when your body seized in his hold.

“Please please please,” you were begging.

If that was for urging him to stop or not, you weren’t sure yourself.

Haechan groaned deeply as if he came himself, and he licked up every drop of your wetness, feeling you pulsating rhythmically against his tongue.

You felt spent, your arms abandoned around your head and muscles still shivering.

“Stay with me,” you heard him closer than you expected, so you opened your eyes to his dreamy face on top of you, his dainty necklace that adorned his prominent collarbones now dangling on your own chest instead. “Don’t go so quickly,” he added.

You wrapped his neck with your arms and pulled him closer. “I am not going.”

Haechan exhaled and kissed your lips once, then he kissed your cheek and temple, and when he dipped his fingers inside of you again you dug your nails into his back for a moment, hissing with him in unison.

“The second one is the best,” he murmured into your ear, holding your body tight against him while his fingers lazily moved in and out of you.

And when he scissored you palmed his lower stomach, opening his jeans button, hungry to hear his pretty voice mixed with your own whimpers.

He didn’t disappoint and your skin shivered at the sound of his moan caressing the crook of your neck as you slid your palm under his pants.

Your name has never been pronounced with such desire and need before and it just added to the growing new heat inside your navel.

Haechan lifted himself on the knees again to be able to see you and when you slid your fist up and down his pretty hard cock you could see his furrowed eyebrows and his plump lower lip being bit.

“Fuck,” he grabbed your dress with one hand and pulled your body on the sheets closer to his hips, giving you a better reach while his fingers didn’t stop for a second.

You imitated him, your wrists bumping, and you kept chanting his name laced with curses, feeling how heavy he was in your hand until your muscles started to burn.

But you couldn’t stop, not when his voice became a higher whine and his thick neck looked so delicious extended for you to the side to see his crazy pulse.

“I’m close,” he grunted and you’ve never heard him huskier.

That just gave you the last crumb of force to make him cum on you with a shudder, his hot slick coating your fingers and sliding to your core.

Haechan’s hand stopped for a moment, his eyes adjusting from the high back to the view of you still spread for him.

The only sound in the dark room was the rain still mercilessly hitting the window and your breaths, both quick and heavy.

But then a moan disrupted the peace as he curled his fingers inside of you again, making you push your head back into the pillow.

Haechan cursed under his breath, pushing his cum inside of you. That felt so foreign to you yet so right that you just abandoned yourself to Haechan, shaky legs lifted as to beg for more, and palms frantically touching his chest and abs until you had to dig your nails into his skin again, body shuddering at the wave of pleasure that washed over you.

Haechan was right, the second time was even better, and you couldn’t see or hear for a moment until Haechan’s sweet voice murmured nothings inside your ear.

Your chest was still lifting and falling frantically when you felt your body wrapped in his arms, pulling you towards his own chest.

You rested your head on his arm and you let him gently kiss your abused lips.

“Are you okay?” he whispered and you nodded, probably with the most fucked up expression ever because he chuckled a bit.

Your body was feeling like putty and you just wanted him to keep holding you like that forever.

But after you dozed to sleep and woke up, you weren’t in his arms anymore and the dreamy room was nowhere to be seen.

The morning light looked too septic in your sensitive eyes, concealing every remnant of the dream from under your eyelids.

__________

“Shit, dude, are you finally seeing someone?”

Mark’s sudden voice made Haechan jolt in place. The young man sat down near him with his tray of food and looked at Haechan’s intact plates with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not eating?”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Haechan replied, grabbing his water.

Mark chewed on his food for a moment then hit Haechan’s neck with two fingers. “Yeah, so you sucked on your own neck last night, huh?”

“Can’t believe you’re funny for once,” Haechan scoffed, palming his skin and getting out of his trance.

“Or, perhaps you need to change mattress? Them bugs huge if they can leave hickeys that big.”

“Are you in a good mood today?”

“I am and you should also be if you finally got your dick wet, yet you’re frowning like you got blue balls all night. That, unless you actually did and I’m sorry.”

“I think I did a mistake.”

Mark watched Haechan’s eyes gazing at nothing in particular over the dining hall’s huge windows.

“I mean, you often do. What’s the issue?”

Haechan shook his head. “No, this time it’s huge.”

“Like the hickey you got yourself?”

“I can’t believe I’m being the serious one for once and you the clown.”

Mark lifted his palms apologetically. “Okay, what’s the issue?”

“I fucked my dreamer.”

Mark’s eyes got huge and his face red as he choked on the piece of food he was chewing.

“Shit,” Haechan mumbled and got up to hit the other in the back.

Mark exhaled and grabbed his wrist to stop him. “That hit was personal.”

“Don’t die on me, dumbass.”

“Are you mad at me? You’re the one fucking dreamers!”

Haechan lightly slapped Mark’s mouth with his palm. “Yell that louder, would you? Let everyone know.”

Mark shook his head to free himself. “Listen, it’s not a big deal. Your dreamer doesn’t remember you.”

Haechan sighed and looked at his friend with a grave expression. Mark opened his mouth.

“God fucking damn it, Lee Haechan. Do I understand this correctly? Your issue’s that you fell in love with your fucking dreamer? Oh my God,” Mark closed his eyes for a second then got up in disbelief.

“Sit down,” Haechan pulled him by the cuff. “People are watching.”

“Do you know the most important rule?”

Haechan interrupted the other before he could get schooled. “Yes, thank you very much.”

Mark scoffed and sat back down heavily.

“So she remembers it all. What did you tell her?”

Haechan scratched the back of his neck. “Nothing much.”

“Haechan.”

“Okay okay. Just enough so she would not go insane.”

Mark let his head fall into his palm. “God, you’re so dumb.”

“What would you have done in my place?”

“Maybe not fall in love with a goddess?”

“She’s not a goddess. I mean she is. But like she’s not. You get me.”

“You got into something bigger than you. If they catch you, you’re dead.”

Haechan exhaled and leaned back in his chair.

“I know of someone. It’s more a legend than anything. He also fell in love with his dreamer and he got put out.”

“Thank you, Mark. I really want to hear about people in my situation getting killed now.”

“No, hear me out. They say he became one of the Dreamers.”

Haechan furrowed his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

Mark looked around for a moment then his eyes fell on Haechan’s face again. They looked blacker than ever. “When we die, we become Dreamers. We go to their world.”

Haechan felt his mouth go dry. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

____________

The mix of bliss and sadness accompanied you all day.

If you closed your eyes you could still taste Haechan on your lips and feel his touch on your skin. The dream kept rolling in your mind again and again making your guts twist on themselves.

“Taeyong, I feel like I’m going insane,” you sputtered all of sudden, not having heard anything of what your friend has been saying for the past hours.

The young man closed his mouth surprised and blinked at you.

“Is it about your dreams again?”

You bit your lower lip as if ashamed and nodded.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

You inhaled as to speak but then your throat closed. How could you tell someone that you fell in love with someone you probably made up in your head and be taken seriously?

“I just keep having the same dream again and again. The Lobby one. I lied to you but I’ve dreamt the same thing all of this time.”

Taeyong’s expression was still serious and his big eyes gave you enough courage to add the crucial element.

“I keep dreaming this man and- it is all just so fucking real. I lost track of what’s real and what’s not and I am so afraid I’m going to actually lose my mind over someone that doesn’t exist.”

“Is he-” Taeyong started after listening, “-a Dream Sorter?”

__________

Mark closed the door to his apartment after making sure no one was following them and turned around to face a confused Haechan.

“Listen, I work so closely with the higher-ups. I see and hear shit in the Data sector that you Dream Sorters don’t even dream about.”

Haechan made a single unamused ‘ha’ at the pun. Mark ignored him and walked quickly to his studio, opening drawers as if looking for something.

“The life cycle is that they become us and we become them. We still have no clue which state is the initial one. This is still being researched.”

“Wait, wait, Mark,” Haechan had to close his eyes for a moment and rest his hands on the friend’s desk to collect himself. “Are you saying that we were them? I was a Dreamer?”

“Yes, and your lady has been a Dream Sorter or whatever,” Mark replied quickly and let a huge pile of paper hit his desk. Haechan coughed at the sudden dust, swinging his hand in front of his face.

“Me too, and everyone here,” Mark added.

“And everyone there.”

Mark found the file he was looking for and nodded. “Exactly.”

Haechan looked down at the other’s hand and eyed the slim file for a second before taking it and opening it. “Fuck,” he murmured after reading the first line.

__________

You felt your limbs weak. Then you chuckled once.

“Dream Sorter? How do you know about that?”

Taeyong inhaled and exhaled while looking at the students’ faces sitting on the grass around you.

“I was one,” he simply said.

You shook your head and slid backwards. “You’re joking. You’re fucking with me right now. This is not funny, Taeyong.”

Your friend’s eyes looked sincere though so you didn’t flinch when he took your hand in his.

“I would never joke about this. I was a Dream Sorter and I got-,” he paused as if trying to find the right word, “exiled.”

You put the other hand to your mouth as hot tears started to slide down your cheeks. You had no idea why you were crying, perhaps you were overwhelmed, or perhaps you were relieved.

Maybe, you were finally losing your mind and that was just another dream.

“How?” you asked with a broken voice.

__________

Haechan sat down on the only chair in the studio, reading the file for a second time, this time slowly.

“It was before we were born so we wouldn’t know. But yes, that dude was a Dream Sorter who fell in love with his Dreamer and got killed off. The thing is, when we die naturally, we become like them with no memories. Just normal people dreaming. When you get killed off or you kill yourself, you remember everything and you can’t dream anymore.”

Haechan listened to Mark’s summary of the file while his pupils moved across the lines saying the same thing as him.

“Also, in that case, you can’t come back here in the usual cycle when you die,” Mark added.

“And where do they go?”

Mark shrugged sadly. “We still have no idea. Perhaps their idea of hell.”

Haechan leaned down in his chair at a loss of words. “This is her friend. She knows him. I’ve seen him in her dreams before. What are the odds?”

He put down the file titled “Lee Taeyong”.

“I don’t know Haechan. What I’m telling you is that you better not get killed off like him,” Mark warned him and took back the file, locking it away with the others.

__________

“If your man gets caught, he’ll have my same destiny, Y/N. Not dreaming anymore and not going back to the dream world after death. I just wanted you to be aware of this. It is not worth it, I promise you.”

Taeyong ended his tale and you had to just blink back, taking in the huge amount of information. Your head felt like splitting in half.

“And what do you suggest doing?”

“Dying naturally.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “We might as well just swap at this point. He’ll be a Dreamer and I’ll be a Dream Sorter and we’ll forget about each other. Not seeing each other anymore. That’s not a solution to be together.”

“I wasn’t giving a solution for you to be together. It’s a survival solution.”

You groaned frustrated. Taeyong didn’t speak anymore.

“Where is your lover now?” you asked after a moment of whole long minutes.

Taeyong looked down at his lap and then he bit the corner of his lip. “She doesn’t remember me.”

You felt tears prickle your eye corners again.

“I am so sorry, Taeyong.”

“I thought I could have a chance by being around, make her fall in love with me from the start again, but nothing happened so far. I think it’s already too late.”

His kind smile was so full of sad acceptance that you felt your heart hurt. Then you thought of Haechan. Imagining him getting killed off for you just to be reborn and you not remembering him was making you nauseous.

“You’ll go insane if you keep this relationship with him in your dreams. And he might get killed off. You need to break all ties. Ask him to get you a new Dream Sorter. It’s the only solution, trust me.”

__________

Haechan was pacing around the Lobby nervously waiting for the ding of the elevator.

Mark was right, as soon as you would get another Dream Sorter you’d forget about him.

It was the right thing to do for both of you.

But he couldn’t accept it.

Lost in his thought he almost jolted feeling your arms around his waist. He exhaled and closed his eyes, bathing in that sensation as long as possible.

Then he turned around and gasped softly.

“Why are you crying?” he cupped your face as his thumbs delicately tried to wipe your abundant tears.

“Haechan-” your voice broke and you hugged him tightly, face buried deep into his purple Bellboy uniform.

The young man sighed, your daily memories invading his mind. His fingers delicately massaged your nape as his lips went to your temple. “So you know too. I am sorry,” he whispered and your body started to shake even more. “I didn’t know either.”

“No, I am sorry. It’s- I am privileged and you’re the one risking-” you tried to express your confusing thoughts.

“Maybe I’ll never get caught,” Haechan gave you a small smile but you didn’t smile back.

“I would never forgive myself if they-” you started again but couldn’t finish.

Killed you.

“I don’t care, Y/N. For me it would be enough to life one human life and be over with it if it means to be with you.”

You shook your head. “Listen to me.”

Haechan shook his head too. “No.”

You took a step back. “I want this to be over,” you lied. “Get me a new Dream Sorter. I can’t keep being with you only in my dreams. I’d rather forget you. And I can’t let you lose your soul for me.”

Those words cut in your heart so deeply that you fought the urge to fall to your knees and hug your own body.

Haechan inhaled and looked up to not make the tears escape his eyes. His tongue wandered inside his cheek for a second then he exhaled deeply.

“This is for the best,” you added with a tiny voice.

Haechan chuckled dryly. “It’s easy for you to say that. You’ll forget everything and I’ll be the one-,” he interrupted himself and turned around, pacing towards the counter and resting his palms on it.

You put your hand to your mouth, forcing yourself to not run to him and beg him to not make you forget.

But Taeyong’s words came to mind. There was no other option for happiness.

Haechan will eventually forget you himself. You didn’t spend much time together.

He’ll fall in love with someone else, you were sure of it.

__________

When you woke up that morning, your head was hurting from the confusing nightmare you had.

You sighed and passed one hand on your face to brush the last remnants of it away and you felt your cheeks wet.

With a tentative hand, you looked for your phone near the pillow.

There was no phone in sight but you felt a soft fabric. You grabbed it and stared at it under the shining light.

It was a white glove and you furrowed your eyebrows. It was a bit loose on the fingertips when you put it on.

Then the alarm went off and you finally eyed your phone on the floor. With a groan, you spent the buzz and getting up you put away the strange glove in your closet.

Then you smiled at the sight of your boyfriend’s text.

From Taeyong <3: hey sleepyhead, I'm already downstairs, hurry up

__________

Haechan looked in the mirror that evening, staring at his new uniform.

He didn’t need a new one and this was just the same shade of purple as the previous one. But a new job meant a new uniform and he was missing a glove after you asked for it.

He sighed walking into the Lobby and winced staring at the pamphlets on the counter, remembering your expression while reading them.

Then a ding made him raise his face and a small person exited the lift.

“Hey there. Is this your first time dreaming?” Haechan asked with a kind and bright voice.

The little boy looked around as if scared and nodded, so Haechan walked the distance and knelt on one knee in front of him.

“I am Haechan. It’s not important because you’ll forget this anyway. But you can trust me to have a very fun time. Come,” he stood up extending one hand. The child took it slowly and Haechan smiled again. “I’ll show you how dreaming works.”

__________

PREVIEW FROM PART 2

Haechan was rolling peas on his plate when a hard slap on his shoulder made him cough.

“Are you fucking insane?” he asked when he found his voice. “What’s wrong with you?”

But Mark’s spirited expression didn’t care about Haechan’s tone. “You need to come with me.”

“Whatever is going on there’s no need to beat me over it.”

“Get up right now. I found something.”

Haechan sighed, not in the mood to hang out with anyone.

“It’s about Y/N,” the other lowered his voice.

Haechan closed his mouth.

Mark grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up to his feet.

“I talked to her new Dream Sorter. I know, I shouldn’t get involved but this whole thing made me want to research further. No one knows, so you understand this is confidential, right?”

Mark was talking quietly and fast while walking just as fast towards what Haechan guessed was his apartment.

“Slow the fuck down. What exactly is going on? Is she okay? Is he hurt?”

Mark stopped in his place. “You said it was weird that she was friends with Taeyong, the dude killed over his Dreamer.”

Haechan blinked emptily for a moment before the realization made his whole body turn into mush.

Mark held onto his shoulders so he wouldn’t fall over.

“Yeah. She was his Dreamer. And she couldn’t remember that. Why? We don’t know yet. But he of course could remember her and he sabotaged you two when he discovered she was in love with you. Now they’re dating. Her new Dream Sorter told me.”

Haechan felt his head full of cotton. “Wait, wait. And so what? She was right. It was not worth it. Dating in her dreams? Absurd. If she’s happy with him then so be it. They’re in the same world. I was ready to go to hell after being killed but she didn’t want me anymore-”

“She got convinced she did it for your sake. Taeyong didn’t tell her there is a way for you two to be together so he could have her for himself.”

Haechan couldn’t process fast enough.

Mark patted his cheek with a little smile.

“I found the way. I’m going to help you get back with her.”

3K notes · View notes

yojeongin · 2 years

Text

happy together | m.l + l.dh [PART 1]

→husband!lee haechan x reader x bff!mark lee

genre: smut, angst, hurt, marriage au, love triangle, forbidden affair, friends to secret lovers, 90s au

synopsis: mark’s life is crumbling all around him too rapidly while the married life isn’t what either you and hyuck expected. taking in your husband’s best friend was meant to bring you good karma but all his presence is doing is stir the pot and worsen the cracks in each relationship.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! toxic marriage, mutual infidelity, morally grey characters, fingering, breast play, unprotected sex, car sex, oral sex (f receiving), spit kink, pet names, public sex, riding, smoking, reckless driving, mention of pet death

wc: 22.9k+ || soundtrack || ao3

finale | epilogue

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.

an: look at that, a yojeongin update !! I enjoyed writing this too much so I hope you guys like it. btw if you want to be tagged for part 2 just lmk or fill out the taglist form in my masterlist; btw im sorry its so long 😭 I try to shorten them but they each get increasingly longer; a playlist for this does exist so listen it please <3 spotify in my masterlist

Mark never expected his life to crumble at such an early age. It was all falling out of place so rapidly that he didn’t really know what to do.

One second he was his college prodigy, opening exhibition after exhibition, and next he’s wheeling out suitcase after suitcase from this grimy taxi that he could barely afford last minute. The odor of rotting deli meats suffocating him the longer the car ride became.

Struggling to get them out of the car as the driver refused to even look his way, Mark cursed under his breath at how useless someone could be. But he bit his tongue as the words of his own father calling him such, rang through his ears. Perhaps he was right all along and his words were rather a prophecy than a silly scolding at the time.

The pavement was littered with puddles of rain and the sky threatened to make more droplets fall so once all of his items were out of the car, Mark made his way towards the well kept building, reciprocating the neglect of the driver. As he drove off some puddle water splashed onto his shoes making the young man grunt in frustration.

Life was only getting worse.

The lobby was cold and brightly lit, almost too clean but he only dirtied it with his wet shoes dragging to the elevator. A trail of his mistakes following him around. He was freezing inside but with the note on the elevator doors reading that it was broken, Mark would surely warm up with his walk up all those stairs to the fifth floor carrying all his suitcases.

After some inner complaining and cursing, Mark simply sighed, feeling his brain begin to swirl in frustration as he looked everywhere to find the staircase. The receptionist was of no help, slumped over the desk and intensely staring at the small television perched on the top counter, a drama in a language he couldn’t quite grasp, taking her entire attention.

Tiresomely, Mark finally arrived to the fifth floor, pearls of sweat decorating his pretty face and the sound of labored panting slipping through his parted lips. He could barely open the door to the floor but he managed to do so even with all the luggage handles in one hand, threatening to slip and fall down the staircase. Almost like his life.

Life was only playing joke after joke as the minute he managed to pull off the suitcases in front of him, the elevator dinged. Its doors opened widely, almost as if it was in a rush to kick out the couple that had disturbed its peaceful area.

Their loud bantering could make anyone feel crazy and at this state right now, Mark was the most easily affected.

“So now I’m crazy because I’m telling you that that bitch coworker of yours keeps flirting with you?” Your chuckle was anything but playful and joyous like he’d heard before. Trailing behind you, his best friend had nothing but a tired sunken look along with the anger that was bubbling up because of you alone.

“You’re crazy in general, you don’t have to bring her up for me to know you are.”

Mockery was delivered by the hazel haired boy that pulled at those same strands, feeling like he was pulling patches. His steps became harsher and louder to catch up to you.

Despite his initial personal frustrations, Mark was at least glad you’d two helped to lighten his mood (argument or not).

Just as vile spilled from his friend’s lips, your body swung, turning to your husband and taking his left arm onto one of your hands. Your grip tightening just by recalling his words.

“Don’t fucking call me crazy,” your eyes projected the fiery pits of hell, your burning anger too obvious to try and hide. Boring holes into Haechan’s own eyes and speaking through gritted teeth hoping that he could feel a hot wrath.

Just as he was to speak, continuing his hate filled words, your eyes averted, finally taking in the figure that stared at both of you dumbfoundedly.

“Mark!” That seeping anger from just seconds ago had dissipated into thin air, almost as if it had never been there just from seeing an old friend.

Letting go of your husband, you ran towards his best friend taking him by surprise with the force of your embrace against him. Mark only chuckled as he wrapped his own arms around your waist, pulling you in as tightly as you did him even if he felt gross from his work out up those stairs.

“Stop hogging him.” Hyuck spoke poutingly, pulling at your arm to let go of his friend. Halfway off him, Hyuck took him into his own embrace, slightly uncomfortable as you refused to let go of the older male.

“When did you get here?” Hyuck questions, taking some of the suitcases off of Mark’s hands despite his protesting.

Shaking his head while thanking him, Mark felt your hand slightly squeeze his arm letting him know it was no problem. “Literally just got here actually.” He chuckled not before showing you a tender smile as a thank you.

With the door finally unlocked, you pushed it widely to let him in. Mark was in awe with the way the apartment was decorated. He knew it was all your doing besides the desk in the corner of the living room that was hidden from view with the kitchen wall. That was surely Hyuck’s.

It was cozy and warm, just the way you always said you wanted your place to be and he was glad that you’d still held this up despite how things seemed to be looking. At least from the occasional letters you’d both write to him for updates.

In fact he still noticed that youthful joy and hope when he looked at you as of now. The pep in your step as you giggled towards the fridge and pulled out a beer for all of you.

“To celebrate your new exhibition!” Naive too.

Your smile was so wide and your eyes seemed to show how proud of him you were that he didn’t have in his heart to let you know that his life had gone downhill and his exhibition was a failure.

You had approached him with a freezing cold bottle to the point your fingers felt numb but you graciously opened it with that silly shark bottle opener with googly eyes that bounced every time a bottle was successfully opened.

He had given it to you once the three of you had gone to the local fair. A vendor had lent it to him to open a bottle of coke while the three of you had tacos for dinner,he ended up forgetting to give it back.

Seeing as you had found it adorable on the ride back to his now old apartment, Mark told you to just keep it at that point.

His eyes followed every movement of your hands, how you tried your best to move as quickly as you could when opening your own. How your hands wiped at the skirt of your dress to gain some warmth but you’d only clamp them together in pain trying to relieve some of it.

Once you deemed them to be alright to manage, you rushed back to the kitchen followed by Donghyuck’s whining on to why you hadn’t opened his only to be received with a low and angered: “Open it yourself.” Obviously, you were still very much upset with him.

Mark gave Hyuck a look, jokingly laughing at him for the favoritism displayed. His friend only shoved him playfully before taking the opener into his hands.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to go to the opening. Hyuck worked until late and you know him, I can’t be out late without him. Right, dad?” You teased, turning to glare at your husband as you set down the bowl of seasoned peanuts for Mark to enjoy. Hyuck pretended to mimic you watching as you settled at Mark’s feet right across from him.

Mark continued his silent laughter, taking a chug from his drink while demonstrating the pain the coldness of it was causing in him. “It’s fine, you wouldn’t like it either way. At least others aren’t liking it.”

Huge disappointment was laced with every word. The critics were getting to him and it was so evident in the way he spoke. With his words you looked at Hyuck questioning what was going on but he gave you no response.

“What? Why? Your work is amazing.” You comforted him, giving his knee a slight squeeze that was only received with a smile.

Shifting in his spot making sure to not give you a nudge or kick, he spoke, “It hasn’t really been the best days lately…” his sight shifted from you to his knees. “Some investments went horrible and the exhibition tanked. It’s doing really bad so yeah, everyone has their downfall and I guess this one’s mine.”

Even though he laughed to ease the tension, Mark felt it present in the room. Noting the pout on your face knowing you felt sorry for it, he gave a tight lipped smile.

“Yeah, so– yeah that’s why I’m really thankful you guys are letting me stay a while here, it means a lot.” Though you never minded if he stayed, you were still confused.

Your face a dead giveaway that was making the male panic slightly. “Stay? Hyuck didn’t say any—“

“Oh… oh shit, I can leave of course,” He rubbed a hand over his face, guilt and embarrassment embroidered in his words. “My bad I didn’t mean to just barge in.”

He chuckled nervously, shifting in a way to stand without disrupting you, yet you rushed to sit besides him, taking his arm into a tight hug while telling him not to.

“No! Oh my God. No!” Desperately you’d plead, Hyuck standing up himself to sit Mark back down, his words drowning in the ocean of your apologies.

“Nah nah, it’s fine, dude.” He was obviously tired, his eyes trying their best to not shut while trying to calm down his friend. Though drowsy, neither you or Mark missed the harsh glare he threw your way. Almost trying his best to not scold you through gritted teeth.

“I'm sorry, Mark. Hyuck just didn't tell me at all. I would've had the guest room clear for you by now, it’s full of stuff even the bed is gross—“ You stopped to catch your breath, a sigh releasing instead whilst looking at him with pleading apologetic eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mark. I’ll bring you some covers.” All you mustered was a nervous smile as you scurried off to the guest room for his sheets, leaving the two men alone.

Haechan leaned back on the molding couch, his legs spread enough for a person to sit between, and the perspiration of the bottle seeping through his slacks. The man was gone and tired but even then he tried his best to comfort his best friend. “I’m sorry about her—“ Mark tried cutting him off to no avail.

“It is my fault I forgot to tell her, I mean you saw how we came home— It’s been rocky so having a normal conversation is so foreign to us now.” Neither expected him to just minimally vent about the marriage but he needed it out. Mark only nodded, uncomfortable and with no advice at hand.

“But yeah, man— you know y/n loves you, she doesn’t mind you staying at all.” He finally cracked a smile or a laugh during this entire awkward conversation. Mark smiled in return, warm to how much love the two of you had for him.

“Thanks… It’ll be just for a bit, I promise.”

Hyuck shook his head, eyes fluttering from exhaustion. “Don’t worry about it, It’d actually be best if you just stay forever .”

Mark’s laugh was louder and genuine this time, shaking his head in denial. As of that moment, you had emerged from the guest room.

Your presence alone was draining Hyuck. His laugh faltered and so did his smile, glowering as he sipped on his drink.

But to Mark it only increased his giddiness, standing up to help you with his blankets and laughing even more when you pulled on your husband’s arm to get him off the larger couch and start arranging the sheets.

He didn’t wait until you finished, Donghyuck just sighed and looked at his surroundings before blurting out that he was heading to bed already in the process of pulling Mark in an embrace again.

You didn’t spare him a glance, smoothing up the cool fabric under your palm. The sound of it louder than the tapping of Haechan’s dress shoes on the cold tile.

Being left with you never felt like a drag, Mark always enjoyed his time with you so this didn’t feel much different when you began to speak. “I imagine you’re drained, huh?” You threw him a glance over your shoulder, shooing his hands away every time he tried to help you.

Mark just nodded, nervously smiling as he pulled his hands back, rubbing it the few times you swatted it. “I-I like the way you decorated the place by the way! Really screams ‘y/n’— it’s nice.” He stuttered, his nose scrunching in embarrassment.

“Thanks…” Your body faced him, words refusing to continue cascading whilst your eyes danced across his features. “It’s really the only thing I got going for myself as of now.”

He felt his heart shatter the moment your eyes dropped, avoiding his gaze. Mark always knew you to be outspoken and firm on your desires. Before you married his best friend you were an art consultant. Hired by his company to find anything to decorate the dull walls of their building, there Donghyuck found himself drawn to you.

Every Friday he awaited impatiently, his knee bouncing just to see your beautiful smile cross the threshold of the company doors with paintings upon painting you had traveled countries to get just for his boss.

Hyuck always used the excuse that there were too many for you to have multiple trips up and down the elevator so he’d offer to help you carry them to his boss’ office.

You also looked forward to those Fridays. Back then Hyuck was loving and patient, he was playful and did anything to make you smile. Even the first times you rejected his proposals he’d come back with more potential that you ended up becoming his wife.

It’s not that you didn’t want to be with him but because of your job. You spent weeks or even months in different areas of the country or abroad so knowing this relationship would be long distance didn’t help.

By the time you had agreed, the company had terminated their business with you and you had gotten a job in the city to relax from the chaos traveling constantly would bring.

In Mark’s eyes you were always strong willed. When Haechan finally introduced you during one of Mark’s exhibitions, the older male was in awe to know Hyuck had found someone so perfect.

At the time you matched his energy very well. The both of you were outgoing yet always stood your ground. If anyone, especially your now husband did anything you didn’t like— you’d call him out on it.

Hence Mark always felt like he was walking on eggshells until he learnt that he could do no wrong in your eyes because you saw yourself in him.

The both of you had the fine arts to bond about, he was easy to talk to, and he was always supportive of your hobbies as you were of his. Hell— you even invested in some of his pieces to show you’d be there for him.

Many would side eye the relationship you had with Mark but Hyuck understood how perfect the three of you were and if his best friend would do anything for his girl, then she was the one.

Mark didn’t know how or when it happened but all he knew as of now was that Haechan managed to make you docile in a way. But he also knew he did something to piss you immensely.

Your coworkers, before he made you quit were lovely but he was convinced many of the men there had other plans for you despite many being in relationships or just nice people.

It didn’t help that his own coworkers were all venomous and envious snakes that fed him ideas. It was quite sad actually, how the people that saw that relationship bloom were the same ones trying to tear it down so here the both of you were, always seconds away from yanking at each other’s hair and clawing at their face.

It was disheartening to say the least. Everything was changing for the worse.

“Have a good night, Mark.”

Cutting his thoughts off, you squeezed his shoulder, leaving him in the dim lighting of the lamp beside him.

Not giving him the chance to reply, Mark nodded to himself with a tight lipped smile as he turned the lamp off.

Loneliness swallowed him again, his eyes adjusting to the darkness but the city lights worked as a nightlight regardless. He wouldn’t admit it but he really needed both you and Hyuck with him in that instant.

His head hit the pillow, eyelids felt heavy, allowing him to drift off to a deep yet short slumber. Mark was tired, yes, but his mind, though in pain, still ran his thoughts through. Destroying any chances of rest. His slumber lasted merely half an hour until the bright fluorescent lights and honking of the city awoke him.

In addition the whispers emitting from the main room gripped his hearing forcefully, not letting him go until he heard every vile thing you and Hyuck told each other.

“I didn’t mean to sound rude—“

“Yeah, well you could’ve tried to sound better.”

He heard the shuffling of bed sheets.

“You never told me he was staying, I could’ve cleared out the other room. Poor guy has to sleep on the stiff couch. I mean why the fuck do you need an extra room for? Your desk is in the living room and you don’t even use it.”

Exasperation was laced in your voice, he didn’t know how to entirely feel but that guilt of intruding your livelihood was horrible.

“Those postcards are collectibles, y/n. For all you know they could be worth more than this apartment in the future.”

Mark imagined you rolled your eyes before speaking. “They’re worth ten cents right now, how could they possibly be worth anything any time soon?”

A pout emerged on his lips. He wondered if that’s what people thought about his work right now but you were once the art consultant so who else is better to know the worth of something?

“Fuck, fine! Clean out the room but throw away some of your stuff you don’t need too.”

“Like what?”

He heard defiance.

“I don’t know, why don’t you start with all the paint you have? You don’t ever work on anything anymore, all you did was waste money on that stuff.”

Hyuck shifted in his spot, turning to your body now. “You haven’t finished that little ug— little painting you were working on.” He swallowed his remaining words.

You simply scoffed and shook your head in disbelief. “That little ugly painting you were gonna say?”

“No.” He answered untruthfully.

“Right— I’m just going to go clean the room now.”

You tried getting off the bed before feeling his grasp on your wrist, almost begging you for forgiveness but also with the grip of an angry possessive man.

“You’re going to wake him up.” He didn’t apologize, that only cemented your determination even more.

Yanking your wrist from his grasp without first feeling that burn, you scooted towards the edge putting your slippers on before walking towards the entrance, Donghyuck watching your every move.

Managing to open the door as quietly as you could, with a leg out already, you turned to your lover. “It’s a realistic portrait of you, just so you know.” He ignores your words but you can still notice his distaste in the way his eyes gloss over. That was enough of a reaction for you.

Finally shutting the door behind you, you lower your head slightly, tired of this constant cycle. You would’ve walked towards the spare room but in the instant you lifted your head you noticed the subtle rustling of Mark’s spiked hair scurrying to hide from your sight.

Tip-toeing towards the back of the couch, you lean over seeing his back turned to the cushions. Smiling to yourself as his lids twitched showing how bad of a liar he was; you giggled softly.

“I know you’re not asleep, nosey.” Your hand reached for his cheek, squeezing it softly. Mark couldn’t contain it anymore, he just smiled as his eyes fluttered open while apologizing.

“It’s cool, nothin’ new.” Climbing over the back of the couch, Mark made space for you to lay beside. “Did you, uh… Did you hear anything?”

Settled by the edge of the couch, Mark wraps one of his arms around your shoulders hoping that’s enough to not make you fall.

“Not really.” His smile didn’t falter, not even when you gave him a stoic nod knowing he’s lying.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Lights are too bright.”

They were hitting your face as you laid beside him. Silence settled between the both of you until you got closer to him. Laying your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his torso.

You didn’t really give him time to process what had gone on since you began talking, only giving him the option of holding you as well. “You know I don’t mind that you’ll stay here, right? I love it when you come around.”

“I hope so.” He replied

You granted him laughter, “Stop, you know I do! You’ve always been so fun, Mark. Are you going to give me company these days?”

‘You’re so fun, Mark.’ The words echoed in his mind as he tried to process what to say.

“Of course. While I look for a place and an actual job as my father would say.” Though Mark tried to play it off, it was obvious he was insanely hurt.

“Do you still paint?” You deflected, he nods and asks: “Do you?” You respond with a shake of your head and a tender smile.

“We should do something tomorrow then. Rest for tonight, alright?” He nods letting you know you should too, shifting in hopes to find an angle the city lights wouldn’t bother him.

All you managed to do was close the blinds and curtains once you stood, hoping that was enough for now. For now it seemed like it was, smiling as you walked over to him one last time. Crouching down to his level, Mark smiled seeing your face one last time tonight.

Before he could scold you to get some rest, he felt your lips on his cheek whispering a sweet ‘goodnight’ once again.

Mark couldn’t form any words, he was utterly shocked and slightly confused but it was also past 2AM and you were probably just tired and slightly tipsy so he tried to ignore it— it was an innocent remark, just that…

As the weeks progressed it seemed Mark could slightly see why you had kissed him goodnight that first day.

The longer he stayed with you and Donghyuck he noticed how lonely you were. Hyuck spent most of his days in the office and when he arrived home it was already late so all he could do was shower and head straight to bed.

He’d greet Mark normally but when it came to you he could barely even look your way. If he came back tipsy after a meeting then he would kiss you as a greeting but other than that it was as if a corpse was walking amongst you.

On his days off, Hyuck would lounge on the couch while watching TV expecting you to cater to him but when it was obvious you’d continue to ignore his existence, he’d dress up and head back to the office.

Mark hated to admit it but he preferred when Haechan wasn’t home. It was a living hell when he was. You were always so lively when it was just you and him. If Hyuck came around your entire mood faltered and it was a struggle to bring it back.

He was glad that he had managed to get you to paint again. In this time together, Mark had helped you with detailing and different techniques. You had also found that oil pastel was a new medium you preferred.

Mark could now see why having a roommate or a lover was sought out so much. You and him would spend your days at the downtown markets fishing for fresh produce for home made meals you two would plan or just simply finding an excuse to escape the confinement that apartment was for you.

Mark had also learnt how to better his cooking from you and how to properly take care of plants. That is because the both of you decided to buy one and help it grow— together . To be quite honest you always thought of plants as such a huge responsibility, you simply didn’t want to do it alone.

It was going great, at least for you two. The more time he spent there the less you cared about what Hyuck was doing without you. The less you cared about Donghyuck.

But for now, those thoughts needed to disappear and you two had to think about him regardless.

Despite the horrid summer heat in September, Mark put himself in the kitchen monitoring the stew as you got dressed up for tonight's event. Whining to himself about how hot it was getting in the kitchen. But this was you– and his best friend of course– so he didn’t want to complain.

“Do you want me to turn off the stove? I think it’s starting to dry up.” Mark called out, watching the red bubbles flow from one side to another, avoiding the pieces of pork and vegetables before they’d burst.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Uh, hey— how does it look?” Mark turned with the sound of your voice, his eyes taking a while to process how beautiful you looked before him. To say he was speechless was an understatement. It felt as if the air in his entire body had been knocked out and his voice was robbed.

“Is it too much?” You asked nervously at his silence. Trying to aid that, he shook his head with a smile on his face, taking one of your hands into his to twirl you around. Though as innocent as it was, Mark couldn’t help his wandering eyes, admiring the beauty you always have been.

He loved how the purple dress hugged your body and he loved how the lacing of your heels wrapped around your smoothen calves. They matched the nylor top coat of the dress, beaded flowers on both items.

He loved how your collarbones looked, shimmers from glittered lotion helping them. The straps tied around your neck making it a halter dress, and he loved how happy you looked.

Mark wasn’t fully sure what this brewing feeling was but he knew it wasn’t good.

Hyuck wasn’t someone Mark ever found himself being jealous of, he was his best friend after all. Mark had only loved and supported his best friend but right now it was killing him. The feeling wasn’t strong enough but he knew it could grow quickly.

It was killing him to realize he and you have spent all day preparing for tonight. Cooking Hyuck’s favorite meal and dessert, cleaning every nook and cranny of the apartment, and even buying postcards for his collection despite how you felt about it.

Even when Donghyuck has been nothing but a dipshit to you this entire time Mark’s stayed with you two; you went out of your way to make this anniversary a good one.

To be exact, Mark was jealous of Hyuck for having someone who loved him despite all he’s put you through.

“You look ravishing.” Mark let out in a breath, your concern turning into a grand smile and thanking him with a hug.

Turing to grab the pot of stew, Mark placed it on the decorated dinner table as you followed with glasses and wine.

“Okay, got everything?” He questioned one last time after wiping his hands on his jeans, making his way to the entrance door.

Looking around, you nodded as a response. Turning to the clock on the microwave, Mark grabbed his jacket, getting the clue. “Alright then, he should be here soon so just page me whenever it’s fine to come back.”

Mark smiled your way, almost as if he was excited for you when he knew he wasn’t.

Just as he was to turn and leave, a thought crossed his mind. “By the way— has he said anything?” His eyebrows furrowed and some doubt was visible but you just shrugged with an awkward smile.

“No… but he always acts like he forgets when we have anything big coming up.” You laugh to ease those nerves he’s created.

“Plus, I saw a box a while ago in one of his desk drawers and I think it’s a bracelet.” You tried to defend Hyuck, even when you nervously played with the flowers on the table. Even though you were trying to act giddy, Mark couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty for these feelings he’s created.

“Alright… have fun then!” Mark walked to you quickly, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your cheek that you received with a smile before returning it. You felt your arms tingle with the warmth of his skin, lightheaded when he removed himself from you.

The second Mark closed the door behind him, you sat with that anxious pit in your stomach waiting for your husband to arrive. You didn’t know if it was for what he had created when it came to Hyuck or for his touch– nevertheless it’s September 7th: Your anniversary. That’s all that should matter now.

You knew Hyuck arrived home late so you didn’t put it past him to do so on your wedding anniversary but the more the clock ticked and the needles cycled around with no sign of him, you felt vile begin to form in your throat.

It was coming around to be 10pm, then 11pm, and before you knew it 2am had rolled around and all that was left was the uncovered pot of stew covered by a layer of grease, wilted flowers crumbling down, and napkins full of smeared makeup and snot.

You were trying your best to not think about it much. You didn’t want to think about how foolish you were to think that despite how much you and Hyuck weren’t on the best terms as of the past months, that that love you once shared would triumph at least on your anniversary.

It was clear enough to you that he didn’t care anymore. So picking up yourself and your pride you made your way towards the restroom, wiping away the remains of your makeup and preparing for bed before paging Mark to come home.

He didn’t think twice about it when he felt the vibration against his hip, it was until he saw you sadly pour the stew into containers that he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

There was no sign of Donghyuck anywhere in the apartment and it made his blood boil. All he could do was walk your way, taking the pot and washing it while you put the container away in the fridge.

“So… wanna go on a bike ride tomorrow? We can get lunch, and then we can head to a music shop. I know you’ve been meaning to buy a CD player. Oh a picnic sounds perfect.” He knew it would do no good talking about his best friend and it was just best to ignore the subject.

You had been trying so hard to not cry this entire time that Mark offered to spend time with you but it made that barrier break and the waterworks to cascade. Mark felt guilty, as if he had said something wrong and he didn’t know what to do besides take you into and embrace and whisper apologies against your hair that he caressed as your back.

“Y/n, please. I’m so sorry if I sa—“

“No, it’s not— just— why can’t he be like you?”

Mark felt his heart ache and it got worse the more you cried against his chest, your arms tightening around his waist. He could smell the sweet scent of wine mixed into the one of your minty toothpaste. He could only assume that you had gotten drunk from despair.

“It’s okay… why don’t you go to sleep? We have a big day tomorrow, I'll finish cleaning up.” You didn’t have it in you to deny him, you were too tired and distraught from this little stunt Haechan pulled on you that you just wanted to lay down at least.

Simply nodding, you gave him a last tight squeeze before letting him go, looking up at him with a thankful smile. Perhaps it was the alcohol but the longer you stared at him, the more you noticed how much more you adored Mark. That same tingle he created earlier was presenting itself in an excruciating way.

He was the sweetest boy you’ve known, he treats you so well and expects nothing in return, and he’s always been supportive of you.

Temptation was always lurking and his rosey lips looked enticing more and more but it seems he caught onto your thoughts that he swallowed the lump in his throat. Clearing his throat, Mark smiles at you whispering a tender ‘goodnight’ that you repeated kissing his forehead before walking straight to the bedroom.

Mark felt frightened while you stared at him. Truth be told if you had kissed him, he would’ve let you and even kissed you back but right now he couldn’t. At least not when you’re so vulnerable, tipsy, and also his best friend’s wife.

Fuck… his best friend’s wife.

The second that door closed behind you, Mark let out a hampered breath, scolding himself for ever thinking about you in that aspect. They were only worsening as the days passed by.

Running his hand over his face and throwing his head back, Mark headed back to the kitchen. Though temporarily, washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen had aided him in forgetting those rising feelings. But like always they’d creep up once he was able to think freely again.

He tried to sleep that guilt away, tossing and turning hoping with every move it would shake out of his bones and leave through the open window but nothing worked. Frustrated with how easily the idea of kissing you had disturbed him, Mark grunted on his way up to the window. Taking a hold of his cigarette box that laid on the kitchen counter.

It was already 4am nearing five when he had finished cleaning for you but even so Hyuck hadn’t arrived until now when Mark leaned against the windowsill with the stick between his lips.

Lighting it, he shakes his head with a breathy laugh that makes smoke blow out of his lips. “Unbelievable.” He tells himself, eyes following the drunken moves of his friend and laughter from the men inside the car.

He counted the minutes and seconds until Donghyuck was to arrive at the apartment, his loud steps not missed.

“55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60… 1, 2—‘

The glowing red within the cigarette consuming more and more of the paper and herb, warming up where he held it, a clear sign that he should get a new one. Exactly when the warmth of the butt was becoming unbearable, Mark threw it out to the street hearing the doorknob rattle upon Haechan opening the door.

In his giddy drunken state, the young man smiled seeing his best friend, rushing to him to embrace him as he loudly greeted him.

“What are you still doing awake? Wanna have a drink?” He asks in between laughs, rushing to the fridge and grabbing two bottles, easily opening them with just the back of a knife. Mark took it without a thank you, lighting up another cigarette with so much disgust in his face the longer he looked at the state of his best friend.

Lips swollen and red, glitter littered all over his body and sticking to the sweat of his neck that was stained with rouge and purple kisses. He reeked of expensive cigarettes and alcohol and his slacks had stains that could only make him gag from just imagining.

Mark simply shook his head, scoffing at the antics of his friend. His guilt was gone seeing how much worse Hyuck could be than him. Taking a swig of the beer, Mark glared at his friend. “What is wrong with you? It’s so fucking late.” He viciously asked, inhaling smoke from his new cigarette.

Hyuck laughed, taking one from Mark’s box and lighting it to join his friend. “Okay, mom.” He replied, feeling as if he was just jesting but when Mark’s expression didn’t change he was becoming visibly frustrated. After all, what did Mark care about? He was just staying with them.

“Not for me but for y/n. She’s been waiting all day for you. You’ve really fucked her over, Donghyuck.”

Mark doesn't call him Donghyuck— ever. Only times he’s done so is when he’s angered him badly and right now he couldn’t understand why he cared so much about you and him. Putting down his bottle and turning to his friend, Hyuck’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth felt slightly agape. “What does it matter to you? It’s just another day.” His voice, gruff and deep now.

The smoke Haechan blew out made its way to Mark’s face, creating a more hostile night for the two. He wasn’t going to back down. In all his years he’s never seen you cry and he wasn’t going to let that slide.

Mark mirrored Hyuck’s dissatisfied expression, coming closer to his friend in defiance. “You smell like shit with signs of another bitch all over you on your anniversary, dipshit. Is it still just another day?”

And it crashed down upon him when Mark’s finger crushed itself against his chest, poking him as a wakeup call from the drunken daze he was in. Feeling as if a bucket of water had been dropped on him, Hyuck’s eyes widened in horror, fingers threading with his hair and yanking at it with anger like the day Mark had arrived.

“Fuck—“ He took a seat, putting off his cigarette on the ashtray. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t have a present either, what the fuck am I gonna do?”

Fear was all over his face, his eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep, rocky night, and the frustration from how you’d treat him for the following weeks or even months until you forgot it.

Mark didn’t care, he only focused on his statement about the gift. Angered, he finished off the second cigarette before glaring at his friend more. “She found a bracelet in your drawers, what do you mean you don’t have a gift?”

Hyuck had never seen Mark this angry before but for now he would focus on his own problems. “Who is it for? Are you fucking with me? Are you cheating on her? I love you, you're a brother to me but I will beat your ass if you fuck her over, Hyuck— promise to God I will.”

It was an eratic moment to spew such words that Hyuck’s expressions smoothened and his fright dissipated. All that was left was a twinge of curiosity the more his eyes squinted.

‘Interesting.’ He thought, the gears in his brain hating this new feeling just as Mark was hating his own new feelings as well.

“It’s for my mother’s birthday… but I guess I’ll give it to her now.” He collectively spoke, his words coming out slowly still processing Mark’s attitude. Mark didn’t seem to pick up on Hyuck’s peaking interest, shaking his head with obvious discontent.

“No, you have to get something meaningful. Something special, I mean she got you something you wanted, she spent all day preparing for you. You can’t just do something like that, Hyuck.”

“Fine, I’ll take her out to dinner tomorrow and how about you get the present?” He hoped that was good enough to get Mark off his back or at least to get his help. After all, he is his best friend.

Mark sat in complete disgust and anger. “You didn’t hear shit I just said, did you?” An angered smirk as he scoffed before finishing his beer. Hyuck grunted in frustration, his eyes screaming: ‘What more do you want from me?’ The wider they got. “Dude, I don’t have time, you know this.”

But it was useless, Mark just glared at him one last time before nodding. “Fine.” He grumbled in disapproval. “Alright, thank you.” Hyuck added with his own annoyance laced into it. Fishing for his wallet, he handed Mark one of his credit cards before silently walking to the room ending the night for both of them.

Lonely and angry.

Thankfully enough when waking, you were the ray of sunshine that made his day better. Driving almost an hour to the countryside, Mark and you spent it entirely on rented bikes.

Going to the nearest park the two of you had a picnic at, mainly focusing on how to sweeten each other’s mood and avoid thinking about last night. Though Mark drowned out the fears he had just last night, you felt them flourishing within you.

You liked that he was gentle with you and treated you nicely. If you ever argued with Mark it was over the taste of something and not about how useless he thought your likings were.

He cooked and cleaned if you weren’t in the mood. If you were he’d help, he just made sure to not let all the burden fall on you.

You liked Mark. You always had but right now the lines between platonic and loneliness were blurring. Enough that this day felt like a date and not just friends hanging out.

It didn’t matter though, at least you were glad there was someone out there to listen to you. Just as he did now the longer you talked while walking inside a small shop of antiques.

Finishing the drink you held in your hand, Mark held the door open for you. Words cascading from your lips as he admired every single one of them. Even when he took your cup to throw away before roaming around, his eyes didn’t leave your face.

The only time he was able to remove his gaze from you was the moment he heard your excited squeal while rushing towards the jewelry section and gawking at a seemingly golden locket.

The smooth metal etched with intricate vines filled with flowers, glimmering in the sunlight that shot through the vast windows behind the counter. Mark admired the shine in your eyes. How they glossed over and sparkled in adoration, almost as if this was the last thing you’d want before you died.

He supposed you could feel his intense staring that you turned to smile at him before clutching his arm, feeling you shake a bit. “It seems silly but my mom gave me one exactly like this one when I was a little kid and I always wore it,”

You shifted your leg. “But when I moved in with Hyuck it went missing. I guess you could’ve called it a warning.” You laughed trying to ease the underlying message as you continued. “Ever since I lost it things haven’t gone well, perhaps it was my lucky charm; and it’s been so difficult finding a new one that makes me feel the same as the one she gave me but it hasn’t worked out.”

Feeling your head lay on his shoulder as you stared at the piece without touching it, Mark looked down upon you. That odd feeling manifesting itself once again and tearing at his intestines.

“How much is it?” He questioned, feeling you shake a bit more. “Uh—“ You separate yourself from him, the trembling from your legs increasing and your breathing hitching in the back of your throat.

Whether it was because you had to go to the restroom or solely for the price alone. “Damn… Hyuck would kill me if I spent that much on a simple necklace.” You stated, before fully separating yourself from him and whining that you had to go to the restroom before he tried to oppose his friend’s view on spending.

Hyuck couldn’t be this frivolous, right? Well, Mark couldn’t really judge how other people spent their money, after all his reckless way of living is what has him crashing at his best friend’s place.

But this is you and Donghyuck he was talking about. Sure he wouldn’t care that his wife spent money on something so meaningful and after his arrival last night it was evident he spent his own money grossly.

Nevertheless Haechan told him to buy you a gift you’d appreciate and this was the perfect one. Whether it was too much or not, he was never given a budget and Hyuck would have to deal with it on his own.

So while you remained in the restroom, Mark rushed to the register, pleading with the cashier to quickly wrap it for a gift. While she tried her best to make it look presentable, his desperate staring was making her nervous to where she fumbled with the chain and the box.

If it wasn’t because there was a timer on how quickly you’d come out he would’ve been slightly upset at how messy it was but now that he could hear the creaking of the door far in the back inside this silent shop, he couldn’t care less how badly the presentation was. After all, he'll fix it while you get ready for tonight’s date with your husband .

The closer the tapping of your shoes got, the bigger the rush he gained while swiping the card and signing the receipts, hoping the cashier would hurry up on her end as well. Poor girl.

And when he could see your silhouette from his peripheral view whilst you looked around the rest of the knick-knacks, he shoved the box and receipt into the inner pocket of his jacket, unintentionally glaring at the girl despite thinking his gaze was apologetic.

“Ready to go?” He questioned, patting his chest hoping the imprint wasn’t visible. “Yeah…” You dragged out, a pout on your lips as your gaze turned to the display the necklace was on. At its disappearance, your eyebrows furrowed and your pout deepened.

“What?” He questioned, holding out his arm for you to grab again. “And the locket?” You ask, he was about to answer when the cashier interrupted the both of you.

“Someone had bought it before you came, they’ll be here shortly to pick it up so I just packed it. I’m so sorry if you were interested in it.” Her tender smile made your pout soften, telling her it was fine as you dragged Mark out dejectedly.

Despite knowing he had gotten it for you, Mark couldn’t let that disappointment you held go. Hopefully as of now when Hyuck was to give you the locket, that you’d feel better and forgive your husband even when he most likely didn’t deserve it.

When Hyuck had arrived and told you about his plans, it didn’t change the tense ambient that had been created upon his arrival. Though you reluctantly got ready while Hyuck moped about your mood, he was praying to all entities that you’d both let it go once the date was over. Even if deeply and unconsciously he felt put off by the both of you together— a twinge of jealousy.

The restaurant was cold and dim, dull. Though he tried making conversation and you tried to answer, that deep built up of anger was clogging your throat, choking you with its fiery vexation.

Hyuck was beginning to feel his own frustrations bubbling up the colder you became towards him. He was trying his best to make this an enjoyable night but when you’ve spent your entire days fighting— things like these become a heavy task.

When nothing else worked, Hyuck reached for the inside of his suit jacket, pulling the box Mark had handed him rushedly whilst he pushed the both of you out of the apartment in hopes the air would finally clear.

“Y/n.” He called out for you, your fork resting on the plate as you averted your gaze towards him, humming in response. His free hand reached for yours, clutching it tightly as a plea to please forgive him for all his wrong doings (As if a measly dinner could fix all his invective words).

“I know I fucked up royally last night,” Your eyebrow quirked in sarcasm. “But I’m truly sorry for ruining our day for work. I’m sorry I prioritized it over our marriage and perhaps it’s the reason we haven’t been doing so well these past couple of months along with other reasons…”

He sighed, his fingers intertwining with yours as his glossy eyes trembled trying to look into your cold muted ones. “And I know this dinner doesn’t amount to anything you deserve, so at least take this…” His hand left yours, that coldness from before remaining.

“To show I love you so much more than I can love anyone or anything.” Upon opening the box, your face lit up and you sat up straight. Your eyes are no longer cold, instead they are excited and warm.

You felt the need to cry, to weep and forgive him as it seemed he did know all along about your locket. That is until you opened your mouth. “So it was you?! You bought it from that shop?” You excitedly questioned as he stood to put it on you.

Kissing your cheek, glad you finally caved in. Standing behind you to put it on not caring if people were to see, his cold fingers graced your equally cold skin, making him slightly shiver.

“Uh, yeah. It’s really simple, nothing too special. Would’ve gotten you something prettier but I know you like things like this, found it down the street from the apartment but I thought it’d look beautiful on you.” He cleared his voice before allowing his lips to fall upon yours.

Perhaps this kiss would have meant more to you but hearing him lie about where ‘he’ had bought it was making your guts churn in pain. He truly will never stop lying to you, huh?

In the matter of seconds as he sat down and looked back at you, Hyuck couldn’t help but notice your eyes dimming again. “I see.” You’d mildly continued, giving him a small smile and dropping it.

Easy as that, a smile was enough for him to feel like he had gotten you back. Taking your hand into another grasp as he chose a dessert for you both; your returning scowl went unnoticed.

You loved Hyuck. You think you do, he is the man you married but why does he continue disappointing you so much? At what point in a relationship do the things the other person does become insufferable?

At what point do you look forward to not spending time with them and instead find comfort in someone else? It seems that you have reached this point.

Morally, it was consuming you. You were supposed to be the perfect housewife that keeps the home clean and given him a child by this point but all you were was a wreck longing for her old independent life while thinking about spending time with her husband’s best friend.

What he did to lead to what you two were now was not helping this case anymore.

After Hyuck had given himself away that he hadn’t bought the locket for you, the only person you could think about was Mark. There’s no way someone else could’ve bought it before you two just for it to end in your hands.

The inscriptive inside of the box with the shop logo was also a dead giveaway of where it was bought, something Hyuck should’ve looked at if he had fabricated his lie well. Or perhaps Mark had set him up for failure and just told him to give it to you.

A part of you wants that latter to be true, for Mark to wedge himself into the relationship to create some excitement but you knew it wouldn’t happen. Not only because he was Donghyuck’s best friend, your own close friend, and because he just isn’t that type of person .

In conclusion Mark was the only one who could’ve obtained it for you and had managed to get the cashier to lie for him. Mark is the only one who knows the meaning of your fixation on that locket. Only he would buy something that has a meaning for you to obtain.

All you were worried about was how he paid for it when he was in a crisis as of now and hoped Hyuck had paid him back as he was the one to give it to you after all.

And as the quiet car ride back to the apartment fell silent besides the hushed radio playing in the background, Hyuck walked in celebrating as if anything had truly changed.

“Wine or beer, baby?” He questioned, his hand on the fridge handle looking at the inventory. Your mind elsewhere, eyes wandering and looking for signs of Mark.

To no avail, you turned to your husband, grabbing the bottle of beer in his hand. Hyuck kissed your cheek for the second time this night, following it with a peck to your lips as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Is he here?” He questioned, reading your mind. You only shook your head, looking into his eyes wondering if his question was out of realizing your reasons or for his own. With your response, he smirked, his face moving closer to you. His pillowy lips found yours, taking them into a kiss full of yearning.

His hand creeped across your torso, dangerously inching up to your breast, feeling him squeeze through the fabric of your dress. It’s been a while since he’s touched you, mainly due to how often you’d both go to sleep angry at each other but right now was the chance.

Even if you were tired of his ways, you’d still let him. The feeling of lust taking over you but slowly the thought of Mark tried pushing through your brain.

Hyuck’s cold fingers found themselves under the fabric, grasping the mound and giving it a slight squeeze. Your lips continued enveloping against each other, him smirking when your breathy moan spilled against his.

He chuckled looking at your state, flushed at the steaminess of the situation, his other hand bunching up your dress enough to where he could slip his hand in between your legs easily.

“Hyuck…” you moaned, resting your forehead on his chest, the grumble from his extended chuckle making you shake. “Yeah?” He asks, his delicate fingers gracing over the warm fabric of your panties that slowly moistened the more he touched you.

You tried talking but felt your voice tremble with every syllable, barely pushing out the name that’s been manifesting itself all this time. “M-Mark—“

The moment his friend’s name came out as a moan to his ears, Hyuck stopped his assault, standing up frustratedly. “What did you say?” He questioned with darkened eyes, scared and angry that you could possibly do that to him (despite what he’s done to you.)

Despite how much you both fight each other, you both were good at reading each other’s body languages. His hostile figure made you act fast and pushed his hand back in between your legs as he reluctantly began to touch you just out of suspicion.

“I just meant that he might not be far…” you gasp, leaning closer to kiss him softly compared to the teasing, teeth-clashing ones from earlier. “So maybe, fuck—“ the pressure on your clit increasing, softly circling it.

“Maybe— hurry.” You bit your lip, his anger dissipating and that shit eating grin returning the second he opted to slip his hand inside the purple fabric of your panties, the wetness making it stick to the upside of his hand.

Hyuck chuckled at the scene before him, it had been so long since you two had been intimate and seeing how you melted onto his touch was doing things to him. Your whimpers and moans fueling his hurt ego and the further his fingers teased your entrance, thumb rubbing at your clit— it grew more and more.

“Oh? Have you been holding it the entire night? I can feel it sliding down my hand. Maybe I should get a taste?” He teased, his fingers threatening to leave your slickness and reach his lips when your speedy hands prevented any movement that wasn’t caresses to your needy cunt.

He chuckled loudly, leaning down to bite your swollen lower lip before kissing you softly. “Hyuckie, stop being such a tease!” You dragged out, becoming more forceful with the kiss. His tongue swiped against yours, the warm satin feel mirroring the wetness between your legs onto his digits.

“You haven’t called me that in a while… Ah my princess does need me!” Ecstatically his word embedded into your lips, rewarding you with a second finger that at most was just as cruelly teasing as the one before.

You whined even more hoping he’d find it in his heart to plunge his fingers deep into your crevice but knowing him and how insanely cruel he can be, the hope dwindled the more he teased your entrance with just the tips and pulling them back out to hear your glorious cries. He wanted to cave into you. He wanted to please you as he had in the past but this seemed to be the only efficient way he could actually make you pay for the way you’ve treated him for these past months.

Yet despite his vexatious actions to further embitter you and start his own sort of revenge, he couldn’t do it. Deep in his heart he knew he still loved you like he used to. He simply had to give in to you, as much as it pained him how easily he submits to you.

Determined enough with the melting of his hateful heart, Hyuck leaned in to kiss you and ease that pent up frustration. “I love you so much, y/n.” He whispered against them, your whimpers swallowing the words you couldn’t process or at least refused to believe were true.

But glory blessed you as his fingers began to prod at your labia and soon found your opening. Your moans were too loud, those demonstrating how long he’s left you to fend on your own that the simplest of touch could lead you to where you’re at.

He shushed you calmly, smiling against your mouth while you gnawed on his lips, your hands reaching for his aching erection. With the swift touch of your delicate fingers over the textile, Haechan whined, his fingers prodding deeper into your cavern. He didn’t move them yet, a third finger taunting you as you rushed to unbuckle his belt used as a reward to grant you more satisfaction.

“You’re close, honey. Almost there.” He cooed with a needy and proud smile, his free hand petting your hair to incentivize you to continue as a great reward would soon come. His third finger taunting your opening while his thumb circled your clit to create more arousal.

When your nimble fingers had finally gotten rid of the worn leather, you pulled at it, throwing it across the kitchen to the living room without a care where it fell. Hyuck granted you with an excited laugh, pulling you in for a kiss as he slowly pushed in his third finger, the tip of it softly gracing through.

“Good girl! My God you’re too good for me! ” He spoke in between kisses, your tongue asking for more, caressing his lower lip. Hyuck admired the fucked out state you were in. Your eyes hooded and dark with need, your lipstick smudge from all these kisses, and your arousal seeped from around his fingers dribbling down your legs as tears would on your cheeks.

You were so needy, anything and any movement could make you release now and though you’ve masturbated throughout this dry spell you both put yourselves through— nothing could amount to how good he makes you feel even if it’s just with fingers. So of course you were needy, of course you wanted his fingers stuffed inside you and you wanted him to finally move them inside you.

That would’ve happened, if it wasn’t for Mark.

Hyuck whispered against your lips how he’d start moving his fingers now. His pillowy lips molding against yours, pulling you by your hair closer to his starving mouth; his fingers began to slowly move and as you were beginning to feel the pleasure your husband always granted you— the front door creaked open, too fast that all you two could muster was for Hyuck to remove his fingers from inside you in a hurry as he refused to let go of your lips.

The kiss didn’t last long, for odd reasons it was you who didn’t want Mark to see more of the scene. His subtle lingering gaze on your organism made you feel small under him, as if he was exhibiting some sort of disappointment or ache. His despondent expression left immediately to one of a playful smile, almost giving you whiplash from it.

“Good night I’m guessing.” He joked, removing his jacket and putting away the box of cigarettes in his hand. “Yeah, I guess so.” Hyuck laughed, turning his back to both of you. You didn’t stop looking at Mark, hoping he’d react to what he just saw even if you knew what you wanted him to react with. He didn’t though, he just gave you a nod to acknowledge your presence.

Your husband continued to make conversation with his friend, the one trying to avoid you for his own reasons. It was odd to say the least, on both of your parts. It was odd that minutes prior you were too enthralled with the man you’re married to but right now all you want was for Mark to say something to you, you almost wanted to apologize to him for having him walk into that scene.

You didn’t want to say it or think it— as the months pass by you’ll realize it felt like you were betraying him instead and not your husband.

Mark knew what you wanted though but he would pretend it was all in his head as he is still trying to process the discovery he’s made: he’s falling for his best friend’s wife.

So for the time being he’ll do his best to keep this relationship as it has been for the past years. Simple and platonic.

“But yeah, I think the meal was good. Y/n? What did you think?” Hyuck’s voice broke you out of the void, turning to him and then Mark. “I liked it, yeah.” Simply put. Hyuck deviated the conversation, opening the fridge to pull a drink for both you and him, asking Mark if he’d like one but in order to avoid you given it was harder for him to ignore your silent cry for a pick of attention— he opted to choose the going to sleep technique to leave the setting.

Mark shook his head, opening the door to the guest room to throw in his jacket. A tender tiresome smile, “Nah, it’s cool. I’m going to sleep, you guys continue to enjoy your night.” Hyuck simply shrugged, turning to the cabinets to pick out some snacks. In the moment he had done so, you rushed towards Mark, grasping his arm to stop him from fully entering the room.

He froze at the contact, feeling the area become warmer than his remaining body. Mark’s shocked face gave him away, he wasn’t meant for this type of situation. “I just—“ you turned quickly to look at Hyuck, the man still distracted with the boxes of popcorn.

“I just want to thank you.” Your remaining hand showing him the locket, a smile forming on his lips, one you mimicked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A shit eating grin while blush krept upon his beautiful chiseled cheeks, making your chest burn up at how you enjoyed that look on him. “Right… It means quite a lot actually— again, thank you, Mark. You truly do know your way to a girl's heart.”

You whispered the words, pulling him closer towards you and kissing his cheek as he grasped your hip in fear of any more proximity. It was quick but it felt eternal for you both, the fire in both of you making it difficult for him to go inside the room.

And though you both felt a beautiful yet painful fire, Hyuck from the corner of his eye saw such action, his own fire scorching with a new found feeling he was not liking.

“Hm…” he hummed quietly to himself, a pout ensuing on his lips, pretending it was nothing. I mean, he was his best friend and you were his wife— That’s. All. There. Is.

To avoid like the rest of you were, Hyuck feigned a smile, pulling you towards his arms the moment you stepped foot into the kitchen. You reciprocated the action, going further enough to kiss him. It was good enough to feel like the kiss you’ve given to his friend's cheek was nothing— that’s all he needed.

“What do you say we continue what we started in the room, huh?” He raised his eyebrow cheekily, a giggle leaving your lips to decline the offer. Whining as to why, your husband pouted at how you only continued to giggle, your arms wrapped tightly around his slim waist.

“Y/n-ie, come one~ why not?” he cried, kissing your lips softly before your neck. His plump lips encased your throat, his tongue lapping at the warm flesh that was making you reconsider your answer but the memory of him was making you stand your ground.

Kissing him one last time and holding his face in between your hands to make him focus on your words; “Mark is still awake, Hyuck. We can’t fuck with him fully aware, walls arent very thick.” You reasoned, kissing him once again.

You failed to notice his pout turn displeased, his expression overall seeming stoic now, aggravated. The film of love over your eyes blinding you from his change in demeanor; making your way towards the couch and inviting him to it just to keep up the facade of a normal marriage.

“Come on now or I’ll pick the movie.” You threatened, picking up the remote to the TV. Hyuck shot you a tender smile, one faltering as quickly as it appeared. “Go get comfortable first, I’ll prepare here.” His voice dropping, some defeat laced on it.

You smiled at him lovingly, oblivious to the way he stared at you and the rays of hurt exuding off of him. Closing the door behind you to get ready, Hyuck leaned forward, his head falling to his hands as he clutched it hoping all those thoughts would leave his head.

Mark is his best friend and you’re his wife. You and Mark are just friends— that’s all it is. But even if he tried to fool himself, this marriage was too fragile for him to not fully worry as he always has. History can repeat itself one way or another.

One ought to think that after that night in which you and Haechan had put aside any hatred for each other, that it would remain and the fighting would subside but that night only made things worse.

Whether it was the lingering sexual tension neither of you were to relieve that night and the ones to follow or simply how you two couldn’t put away the resentment that has grown but things were bleak nonethless.

Some part of Hyuck blamed you, he didn’t know when he began feeling hate towards you instead of pity and self hatred. And the other part blamed Mark. In countless arguments you always threaten him by mentioning the possibility of storming out of the room and spending the night with his best friend as he’s the only one who doesn’t irritate you.

As any partner would do, Hyuck grunted in frustration, picking up his pillow and slamming the door behind him as he took his spot next to Mark in the guest bed. Both men awkwardly and uncomfortable on the bed trying to avoid bringing you into the conversation.

For one because your name and presence made Hyuck enraged and for Mark he could only feel guilt bubble inside him while thoughts of you clouded his mind.

Mark and you had always gotten along. You both shared a love for the arts and that only made you both closer these months. When it didn’t pertain to art, you two always teamed up to bother Haechan as a taste of his own medicine for ever bothering either of you.

Times used to be good, dinners and parties were fun but the more he indulged in his work and tried to climb whatever hierarchy ladder there was, he became such a— such a dick. The actions he took upon when you were on a work trip didn’t help either.

You should’ve taken in all the signs from whenever you met the wives of his coworkers. Their sunken faces and dead eyes staring at you with pity when he first brought you around.

Their ‘awe’s’ and ‘oh’s’ when you shared how lovely Hyuck was to you and how you two met. His persistent love for you that’s led you to where you two were at the time. Their pity should’ve been obvious, at first it was jealousy but no one knew the truth of having men in this field like they do.

So now they look at you like you were finally one of them. Your miserable and tired gaze with every single one of these dinners. How annoyed you became every time Donghyuck opened his mouth to let out a joke or just speak. You had to catch yourself from rolling your eyes most of the time for his sake but it was becoming so exhausting when he didn’t try to do anything for your sake.

“So how’s the job hunt, y/n?” A nasally pesky sound buzzed towards your ears, bringing you out of your thoughts about tomorrow's plans. Lifting your gaze with confusion, you still turned to her.

Rapidly glancing at the people around the table ready to collect their coats, you held in your sigh as their attention was now fixated on you. “I’m not looking for a job.” You answered sharply, Donghyuck helping you into your coat, buttoning it up for you to keep up the perfect husband facade he’s trying to maintain.

She cocked her head, the hairspray held cylinder bangs bouncing but never moving with gravity. “Really? Hyuckie said you were looking for a job.” God how you hated her. ‘Hyuckie’? Yes you hated his guts as of lately but he’s still your man and jealousy is inevitable.

You threw a glared at him, “Don't call me ‘Hyuckie’, Merdia.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose knowing what she’s trying to initiate. She chuckled trying to slap his arm playfully but he backed up before she could touch him at all, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“No… I’m helping a friend of ours. He’s an artist himself so we’ve been contacting old clients of mine to get references or any openings.” The group began to walk as you talked, the clicking of all your heels collecting on the marble tile. She follows along, trying to get as close to you.

“An artist, how lovely.” One of the women added, smiling towards you. “Yes, he’s quite good. We’ve been working on some pieces for a while, while we wait for some responses.” You smiled fondly at her, your smile as wide as when you used to talk about Hyuck.

“He’s amazing actually…” your smile refused to diffuse. The woman chuckled, nodding as a response while Hyuck side eyed you, stoic his face became. “Mark is a good artist.” It came out too bitter from his mouth; emphasizing the ‘is’.

Reaching the front of the restaurant with the cars from the valet already at front the couples were getting ready to bid their goodbyes. “You speak so highly of him, if he’s available for commissions please let me know. All the pieces you’ve brought for our home fit so well I’d be so interested to see his work.” Another woman spoke, holding onto to her husband who smiled at her lovingly.

This was the brightest you smiled all night, nothing fake and short of past conversations. Haechan loved your smile, he really did but to know it brought Mark into the conversation was making his heart ache.

“You should really consider coming back as a consultant for the company, y/n. Keeping an eye on Donghyuck on your part is becoming tiresome.” His boss jokes, causing the party to chuckle. “Hope he hasn’t caused more trouble like he used to.” You commented, his lips falling against your cheek to reassure you he was no trouble at all.

His boss shook his head as a response. “He’s become too boring these past years, loose him up or something.” You laughed knowing he was absolutely right, patting your husband’s hand. “Well… it was a great night, thank you all for accompanying us once again. Sunhee has something to do early tomorrow so I’ll see us out, have a great night.”

Leading his wife in front of him carefully. In the process of going down the slight hill, one of her shoulder pendants dropped to the concrete. “Mrs. Oh you dropped your—'' Trying to help, you made your way towards it but before you could the obstacle or Merdia’s foot tripped you making you fall into the large fountain for cars to surround.

You splashed around with the shock of the cold water biting your body as Hyuck rushed to your aid and some of the people in the party trying to see if you were okay. Even the staff noticing the happenings rushed to get whatever they could to free you from the breeze and dry you up.

But either way you still shivered despite the panting host handing you two warm and folded towels that Haechan secured around you. “What is wrong with you for fuck’s sake.” Hyuck finally broke out, turning to the woman who pretended to be sorry, trying her best to grab you. Merdia was at a loss for words, stammering to say it was an accident but Hyuck retaliated with the exact happenings.

“That was of such poor taste, Merdia!” One of the women exclaimed, her wrinkled skin prominent the while she frowned in disbelief. “I— I didn’t mean to…” she spoke lowley, glancing at those around her but mainly Hyuck and her boss. The poor man couldn’t make it home yet without making sure you were fine.

“We all saw you stick out your foot, give it up.” The most cynical in the group spoke up, sipping from the drink she had ordered while the host brought you towels. Sometimes you feared you and Hyuck would turn out like her and her husband. Hating each other too much it was useless to try and hide it from the world.

She couldn’t even speak, your shivers and Hyuck’s cooing too loud for her to even process the scolding she was getting. “You two go ahead. Y/n is freezing. I don't want her to get sick.” Mr. Oh directed the both of you with his hand, rushing you both to his car while Hyuck apologized but everyone else reassured him it was not his fault and he shouldn’t do so on her behalf.

All you could hear was his boss telling her he’d want to have a talk with her tomorrow morning while his wife reassured her she was too immature for her grown age. As Hyuck drove away and made sure you were fully covered to not let the breeze cool you more, all you could think about was the hatred you had for the people in his job and those who’ve crossed his path inside that building. Even if Mr and Mrs. Oh were the sweetest people there can be, you’ve found to hate them to an extent.

He patted you down with his own blazer, covering your bare legs with another one he had in the back without a care if the expensive piece would be ruined. “Are you okay?” He asks concerned, his hand rubbing your arm to warm up the area. Pulling out of the place he continued to blabber, questioning and acting like he cared. He probably did but you didn’t want to believe it.

You never answered, shivering from both cold and anger. With every second of your silence and his aching chest, Hyuck grew frustrated, not knowing well how to process such emotions. They were bubbling up inside him and the worst of him was taking over, enough to not stop his mouth.

“For fuck sake, y/n say something! I’ve been asking you the entire ride if you’re okay, speak up!” To say his scream didn’t catch you off guard was an understatement, usually during arguments no one screamed so this was still new to you.

Even when you imagined your eyes to be wide they were cold to him. “There’s nothing to say.” Your hoarse voice broke out through gritted teeth. He scoffed, palms slamming the steering wheel. “Of course because all you have to say you’ll say to Mark.” That bitterness from earlier was back, his teeth grinded with the mention of his friend.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You turn to him, disgust masked on your face. “Every argument, every discussion, any free second— you’re always with him. You tell him everything, I’m your husband, not him! You’re supposed to have trust in me!” You can hear a sob stuck in his throat, trying his best to repress it but it kept fighting to come out.

Maybe if it was another time and a past year you’d feel pity but it was only infuriating you. “How do you want me to trust you when those stupid letters are still engraved in my fucking head? All those little greeting kisses? Even the ones of Marida—“

“Don’t even bring her up, I would never be with her.” Disgust laced in his tongue. “Of course I know you wouldn't be with her. She’s old and ugly, I know you too well but that stupid seaweed girl is still—“ now it was your turn to hold in the sob. You rather not continue, you’ve tried to hide for too long that you were still hurting from the events that have led to this decaying marriage.

“Y/n please…” his hand reached for you. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You spat, moving as far as the car door would let you. The action alone caused him to emit a frustrated growl. “That was a while ago! Stop bringing her up for fuck sake.”

The speed he was driving in was only accelerating almost as if he couldn’t really stop his emotions from taking over. “So what, Hyuck? It’s not going to change the fact that you still cheated.” This time you couldn’t stop yourself, your tears forcefully spilled, your silent cry increasing in sound the second your head bowed and hand reached your forehead.

You hated this, you really hated that he was seeing you this vulnerable but it did really hurt you to see the man that went out of his way to have you throw it all out for an ounce of attention.

It had started a year and a half ago, though brief, the wound is still very fresh in your heart. With just two years of marriage, Hyuck began to act more loving than usual. In any case that would’ve been fine but if you hadn’t temporarily gone back to work at the same company you’d never know it was due to a short haired redhead that would give him seaweed treats every time the company called her catering services.

She was sweet and kind. Every time he came around she’d blush and wasn’t able to hide it. Though his flirtation was innocent at first (as it always is) he began to like the attention she gave him. She was detailed about everything, from the color of her catering plates to the tiny designs on every treat but his specifically.

It went on for a while with just flirtation remarks and gifts, after a while they’d accidentally cross paths at the park where he’d walk the dog you shared and soon became their hang out spot where they’d talk and talk for hours until the sun would set and he’d have to walk her home. Sometimes he’d simply spend the night…

She’d tell him good night with a shy hug and a kiss to the cheek progressively getting closer to the corner of his mouth. Soon came the letters, the ones of her professing her love for him and how passionately she felt about him asking him to not speak of his own feelings just yet as she wasn’t ready for a response.

And when she had finally gotten emotionally prepared for a response, a divine intervention came. On the day you had come back from a trip for a piece to place at the front of the company— the catering team had been called.

With the table set and the treats and meals prepared, the employees came along. Anxiously waiting for his entrance with a plate of the same seaweed treats she’s been making him all these months, her face brightened up when he came into the picture.

You still recall the scene before you: Have forgotten your coat, Hyuck had offered to give you one of his he had kept in his office granting him to let you walk to the lounge area with the rest of the employees.

At the moment you had been standing with a few of his female coworkers catching you up on all the gossip you missed while out of town and working at a different company, laughing along to whatever they were saying when he had just walked in with his coat in hand searching for you but being stopped by that same red head.

You wouldn’t have thought anything of it was it not for how she excitedly pulled him in, her lips gracefully falling to the corner of his mouth given he turned his head so it wouldn’t have. She seemed to dismiss that as she handed him the treats and he thanked her.

She was rambling for a while making him grow a bit exasperated but she placed down any other plate and removed her gloves begging him to follow her outside the lounge. Looking around in hopes no one else caught what you had, you excused yourself to look for him in hopes the other two women around you didn’t follow.

You had ended outside the door, hidden behind the protruding wall to listen into their conversation but it was a grave mistake.

“I-I wrote you another letter.” She handed it to him, a shy smile along. “Don’t read it right now, I just want to make this quick because it’s eating me alive, but—“ she sighs nervously, hands beginning to shake and sweat.

Exhaling through her lips, “I’m at a point where it hurts so much being around you daily. I really like you, Donghyuck. I’ve made it clear in all these letters and with this one more. I dream of kissing you more than I already do, I want all of you and I finally want to know if you want me too.” Her voice was as shaky as her hands.

Hyuck was at a loss for words, he knew what he wanted to say but he knew he couldn’t, not when he loved you more than her. He could’ve said something but his initial thought was to take her into an embrace giving her false hope when she reciprocated it, smiling and sighing to herself the tighter she pulled him in. Her hands caressing his back like you always do.

The sight and confession was eating you alive, the lump in your throat was too heavy and hard, it was choking you. This was all killing you but you’ll be damned if you were to let anyone get him after your vows have been made.

Fighting with that lump you finally swallowed it, turning on your heel and walking towards them with determination and anger in your body.

“Hyuckie! What’s taking you so long?” Your voice as fierce as always, it’s a quality they all liked about you. “I— um well.” If he was to be truthful, he was shitting bricks in this instance.

“I’m cold, come— feel.” Your lips puckered up pecking him and your hands reached his cheeks making him laugh into the kiss. All the catering girl could do was look at the both of you dumbfoundedly, eyes large as her heart broke into million pieces.

“Yeah, I see— honey this is… well. She caters for the company.” Oh he was so full of shit. Turning to the girl in front of you two as he wraps his arms around your waist, your back to his chest. “This is my wife, Y/n. She’s an art consultant here.”

Poor girl, she just nodded as a response, meekly speaking her ‘nice to meet you’s’ before excusing herself before her throat fully closed up and the waterworks began.

When she was earshot away, you turned to him. The fire in your eyes turned soft and sad as your fists found themselves against his chest. “I leave you alone for three months and you do this to me?” The air was scarce around you, he didn’t make it better the more he tried to pull you in and his apologies spewed from his lips.

When he had finally taken a tight hold of you, you did your best to relax. Labored breaths against his chest, his apologies never ending followed by kisses that you tried to avoid.

“When we get home you’re giving me every single one of those fucking letters and trust if I see her again here or wherever the fuck you two are seeing each other, I will make sure you’ll be the one to wish you had never tried this stupid game.”

Hyuck knew of your status in the company and in his own field alone. Even if you didn’t have that leverage, a scandal like this was enough to ruin his career. As an increasingly important member he couldn’t afford an affair scandal, it wasn’t going well for any of his other coworkers.

So when he swore to never let it happen you rushed him to the lounge, taking the coat, putting it on, and walking to the washroom hoping the red head would be there. Lord knows you’d rather cry in one than let anyone in the building see you a sobbing mess.

But you’re always right, so upon opening the doors to the black marbled washroom, leaning against the matching sink— she tries to stop letting her tears spill. When the door harshly slammed, she turned around scared , only to continue her pained cries when she saw your face.

“I didn’t know he was married if that’s what you wanted to ask.” She hiccuped, trying her best to stop. “I know.” You answer, standing next to her in front of the other sink.

With your finger you clean up the smeared lipstick from the kiss, a reminder to her of what you can freely do whenever you want and all she could respond with was another sob. “Did he sweet talk you until you finally agreed to go out with him or something?”

She shook her head, wiping away some loose tears. “I was the one to start it all, he was just flirty so I thought he liked me back.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with a paper towel. “That’s just how he is. He playfully flirts with everyone.” That didn’t seem to make her feel any better, it was making her feel worse.

Angered at the turn of events, she looked at you with desperation. She could see why he wouldn’t leave you for her. You were beautiful, the way you carried yourself was so enticing and pleasant.

You were charismatic, confident, and it seemed like everyone loved you by the way people greeted you upon entering the lounge before him. Of course he wasn’t going to leave you, you were a diamond in the rough.

“Why are you here?” She questioned desperately, feeling more tears coming this time. With your lipstick at hand, you threw her a glance ignoring her as you retouched the color. When you had finished you turned to her, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t blame you, you didn’t know he was married and the bastard was just having his little fun while I was away at your expense. But now you do know he’s married so I better not see you near him again.” The clicking of yours heels bold as your words upon reaching the golden handle.

Turning to her waiting for a response. “You’re not sorry about it, right?” You smiled at her, genuine curiosity upon the question. “Why should I be? You said it yourself. He was having his fun at my expense… Maybe just for you.” She sniffled again, clutching the paper towel to her chest.

“Smart girl.” With a final nod, you made your way out, dropping the facade and rushing to the elevator down to the basement and to your car. Just like she had, you allowed your tears to flow while leaning on the steering wheel, your hands slamming full force against the dashboard the louder your sobs became.

Everything from that point on went downhill. The dog perhaps had felt the atmosphere and months later had died leaving you alone to fend off your repressed emotions on your own. A month after that Hyuck had made you leave the company you worked at, given your state, along telling you he needed more time with you and perhaps nothing would’ve happened if you didn’t travel out the country for months on end. It all led to where you were at now.

If it wasn’t for Mark being around, you’d still be moping about the situation. How can someone that’s done everything in his power to be with you and love you more than he loves himself do that to you?

How can he, after four years together, allow something like this to happen when you’re not home and then blame you for the happenings? If you hadn’t interrupted them, he would’ve confessed he also felt something for her. Not as strong as he feels for you but he would still feel an attachment.

“Just, please…” He pleaded, fear in his voice. “I keep telling myself not to write to you all the time, but the mere thought of you is so strong, but I can’t help writing thousands of letters to you everyday and every second. I hope you like the seaweed treats, and make them all for you.’ I hope you like the seaweed treats. I make them all for you.' You fucking hate, seaweed Hyuck.”

He was more amazed that you memorized all that but knowing how you were you had probably fixated on that part of each letter that entire week he gave them to you. “I read over your letters day and night. Can’t stop thinking about you and I know I’ve told you multiple times not to tell me how you feel, a part of me can tell how you feel from all your letters and the way you touch me.”

“Y/n, stop!” Hyuck yelled at you. He didn’t really understand if he was more angry that you still brought it up or that you kept reciting stuff you were keeping away from him. “I wish the cheek kisses were more than just that, sometimes I really wish I could kiss you but for now I’ll settle for this.’ That’s before you your last few letters by the way.“

He was driving recklessly at this point, the car, either speeding or swerving, but neither of you could care much. Before you knew what he had pulled up to the basement of your apartment complex, parking in the assigned spot.

Neither of you got out of the car. He just sat there in silence basking in the uncomfortable atmosphere that both of you created.

“You know I still think about that cheek kiss, and how many more there have been.

“Probably just as many as the ones you’ve been giving Mark.”

It was your time to scoff offendedly, looking at him with disgust and anger in your eyes. “Aw fuck you! Mark and I have always been platonic! And yes I do tell him everything, he listens to me, he remembers the small things, he actually tries to be of comfort unlike you.”

Your fists found your thighs, the textile of his coat sliding off to the floor of the car. “By the way, really? Sending him to buy the gift?” Pulling at the locket, you show it to him. “You’re sad you’re not the man I met…” You slumped back against the car seat, unbuckling yourself ready to get out.

“Well neither are you! You’re not that lively girl anymore—“

“Because you ruined me! You make everyone around you miserable! Mark and I have a great time until you come home and bring us down with you! You suck like the life out of people, Hyuck. Even the dog died because of what you started!”

That was enough for the both of you. Glaring each other down in silence as the animosity settled around you, suffocating you both to the point you just shook your heads and threw the towels and remaining coats to the back of the car while stepping out, slamming the car door and leaving him be, hearing his screams as he slammed his fists on the wheel and dashboard while you walked away.

Just like the day that started all this, you rushed to the elevator allowing your sobs to become louder. With every rising number, your pleas to stop the tears followed suit in case Mark was still awake.

You didn’t want him to see you like this. It already pains you enough that Haechan was able to see you crumble because of him, you didn’t want Mark to see how vulnerable you could be again.

But what you didn’t know is that Mark has already seen your vulnerability besides your anniversary night. With every passing month he’s stayed with you, you granted him an open window of what else you could offer and he liked that more and more as the days passed.

Entering the threshold of the apartment and leaving the door unlocked for when Donhyuck decided to come in, your feet waltzed towards Mark’s room. The faintest of music could be heard, you couldn’t hear him but you could hear the song.

‘Someday you will ache like I ache…’

Sang in a loop, spinning inside your head the closer you got to the door. Hyuck was right, you did want to open the door and tell Mark tonight’s happenings. You wanted him to take you into an embrace and comfort you but you didn’t want Hyuck to be right and your initial thoughts on your vulnerability weren’t allowing it either.

There was nothing else to do but head towards your bedroom, throwing Hyuck’s pillow to the living room before finally locking the door behind you. The song kept repeating itself as you prepared yourself for bed, the volume in your head increasing with every movement you made up until your head hit your cold lonesome pillow.

The stupid song was only making you want Mark to be right beside you, to at least see him before you slept so you could end the night in a good note and not the bitterness your husband made you endure.

So now that your face wasn’t as puffy from the crying and only the tingling remained, you jumped from the bed rushing to his room glad Hyuck was taking his time in the garage.

The pitter-patter of your feet against the tile was loud for you, the creaking of his door making you wince as it screeched at you, and the song was even more loud to you than it already was.

Illuminated by a desk lamp and the city lights while his curtains remained slightly ajar, you approached his resting body. He looked so peaceful in this position, holding tightly to one of the pillows. It’s decor fur rustling with the whistles of his silent snores. Aside from peaceful, he looked beautiful.

The image of him was making your chest twist and turn; crouching down to eye level when your hand subconsciously fell to his face. Caressing the growing stubble he tried so hard to remove but you loved so much.

He wasn’t much of a deep sleeper, the touch alone waking him up much to your fright. Ready to remove your hand from his face, his hand held it in place as the other rubbed at his eyes. With you in front of him and the placement of your hands, Mark quizzically looked at you, still squinting away his slumber.

“What’s up?” Was all he could muster, trying his best to smile but found it too tedious. You shook your head, returning the smile. “Did the music bother you? Let me just turn it of—“

“The music is fine.” You stopped him from bolting up. The last thing you wanted was for him to lose his comfort. This time around he was finally waking up, well slightly given he nodded with one eye closed and the other open, still trying hard to smile.

“Scoot over.” Patting the pillow, he follows your orders tossing it to the other side and freeing a spot for you. When able to, you climbed on the bed beside him, facing him and taking his arm to wrap around your waist as if you were that pillow.

Mark felt shaky at the situation, his hands becoming clammy and trying his best for you to not figure out how nervous you were making him. “So… It’s your turn to sleep here tonight?” He joked, his smile finally showing.

You scrunch your nose, shaking your head, causing him to chuckle. “He’d rather see me sleeping on the road than being in bed with another man.” Noticing his rising fright, your finger pressed against your lip, signaling that it’ll be your little secret to which he nodded trying his best to have that smile return.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a good night again?” His eyes fixated on the way your face muscles contorted. “It is now!” You laugh, taking a hold of his hand squeezing it between your hands. Mark reciprocated the laugh, his body unconsciously getting closer to yours.

“Wanna talk about it?” You shook your head. “I do want to talk about my favorite person right now, though.” You turn to him, cupping his cheek in your now free hand. He smiled shyly, eyes shutting tight the more overwhelmed he became.

“Is tomorrow’s interview still on?” As told to the wives of Hyuck’s coworkers, you had been helping Mark during his job hunt. Contacting old bosses of yours and art lovers in hopes they’d take him in and help him gain that passion for the arts on a commercial level.

Though things were radio silent these months, finally someone had called him back and asked if he could go in for an interview in hopes of hiring him for some installations for a new chain of restaurants the man was soon to open and maybe a position at one of his studios.

With the mention of the interview, his already wide eyes grew and a coat glossed over the moment he began to excitedly ramble about his ideas and just genuine happiness of finally going back into a studio.

He was adorable to say the least; the unintentional stammering, his slipping laughs from joy, and his unconscious emotional movements the more he got excited over this opportunity. To say the least perhaps Mark and you weren’t too far with how you felt and you weren’t much better than Hyuck.

Nevertheless, if he was going to be selfish then you would too.

“Then make sure to get a goodnight sleep so you can look refreshed and ready. Prayers, you'll get it!” You exclaimed excitedly, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for a hug.

He didn’t hesitate this time, arms tightening around you. His hands begin to roam against your skin and his exhales landing on your hair, rustling them like ferns in a windy gloom beach. It felt too familiar yet foreign as the sensation was new but the visual wasn’t.

“Night.” He whispered against your ear, his long fingers tracing patterns against your flesh to the point goosebumps formed. Mark smiled at the reaction, his lips pressing against the corner of your mouth, fighting to not inch closer to the swollen lips.

“Night…” you whispered back when he let you go, staring at each other whilst you struggled to get out of his bed, the smell and warmth of you intoxicating him tonight.

“By the way, Hyuck is still in the car. Do you mind getting him if he doesn’t come back by the time you go to sleep?” There the moment went at the mention of his best friend, your husband. His smile dropped but he nodded.

Finally being able to close the door behind you, your feet rushed to lock the apartment door then your shared bedroom with Haechan who even now had not returned not thinking about how the mention of him had drastically changed Mark’s demeanor.

Situated in your cold bed once again, the city lights being the only source of illumination and the mixture of Mark’s song with the water pipes lulled you into the night. The thoughts of how history was only repeating itself with the exception that it was your turn to get a lick of Happiness.

Mark did make you happy and his actions tonight only worked as reassurance that he saw you the same way you were seeing him now. As fucked as this entire situation is, it’s only fair that Hyuck aches like you have been these years.

Morning came and all that was left of Hyuck was his pillow right next to your head, his smell lingering in the sheets when you woke and his spot still warm. Maybe he hadn’t spent the night in Mark’s room or he had paid you a visit while you slept but you still couldn’t let your anger subside.

As in for Mark, you both ignored any lingering attraction, his chirpy self hyping the possibilities of getting the job. That’s what you liked about Mark, even when in a rut he was trying his best to act positive.

With the goal of getting through that interview, you sat in the waiting room, idly flipping through the magazines as he talked with your old friend. Prayers in your tongue, sliding around and hoping he’d get it.

So when he walked out through the white doors, smiling and laughing along to the jokes of the man beside him, things only looked as bright as him. His tie was a mess, flimsy and slightly undone. The button of his shirt undone and showing enough clavicle, smudges of graphite mixing in with sweat. His dress pants were worse off, splatter of oil paint in the bottom and drying stoneware seeping in.

Disturbance in your face overpowered the smile you tried to give him, insanely frustrated for how much trouble it would be to remove all those stains. But it later dawned on you that he did his own laundry and often told you to not do these things for him.

On one end it was nice that he assured you he didn’t depend on you but on the other you wanted him to— you were getting too used to the life Hyuck and you have been living… god, you seem to have forgotten all the times you’ve fought with him to do laundry as well, now you just do it for both of you.

“Don’t look so gloom, darling. I didn’t beat him.” The older man told you, your muscles relaxing at his soft voice. “You did add trouble to the laundry load, Yasuki.” Your fingers ran across the stained spots, not quite noticing how Mark flexed his muscles from your touch, nervously laughing at the happenings.

If you could see how you were looking at him you’d probably slap yourself. Your eyes glistened at the sight of him, his brown locks tamed back but that strand of hair still managed to fall over and play with his vision. It didn’t help that he was sweaty and his shirt was showing you a bit more skin than expected.

“So how did he do?” You question straightening Mark’s sleeves. “That’s for him to tell you,” he winked at you, noticing he had a brush in hand to which he tapped against his leg. “I’d like to catch up but I have a meeting in five, so please excuse me.” His mustache ruffled a bit with every movement of his lip.

You found it endearing how charismatic the old man was. He was so jolly that as he parted ways from you both, he skipped towards his office, that same brush tapping on his knees twice with each step. In a better life you’d want to be that happy.

“So?” You question Mark, hand reaching to wipe his forehead and rid of his sweat. “So?” He mimicked, a bright smile that could only make you mirror it with every step you two took towards the elevator.

The ding was heard and the doors ungraciously opened, both stepping in. “Come on~” you whined at his lack of response, Mark laughing quietly at how desperate you sounded.

“Well how would you think I did?” He asks, stepping out the elevator once the doors opened, following after you. You shrugged on the way to the car, letting him speed his step to open the door for you.

“You have to give me more than that if you expect an answer.” He cheekily smiles down on you, closing the passenger’s door and walking over to the driver's side. “Judging from how you came back, I’d say he had you working quite hard so he probably liked your style!” Excitement laced your voice, turning to him after buckling up.

“Ding ding ding!” You look at him with joy. “So you got the job?!” Your voice was now squeaky, eyes almost bulging out. “Yes and no… he gave me some options first.” Cocking an eyebrow and leaning your head to the side, you looked at him with huge curiosity.

“What do you mean?” He turns to you, tongue nervously swiping across his bottom lip, eyes averting to avoid yours. “One… if I want to continue with my own mediums, I’d have to relocate to his studio in a different city. It’s not as far, maybe two hours or so but far for a daily trip it is.”

You felt your world crumble and he had only given you the first option, you felt it stab your chest repeatedly. “Or two— his studio an hour away but it’s strictly digital art and design. It’s much closer and maybe if I take the express lines at the highway it’ll be faster but— I have no clue how digital art works so I’d be quite behind than the rest of the team.”

Mark was more concerned with his options that he failed to see the bigger image. With whatever option he took, he’d have to leave you regardless and that’s what was killing you right now. Your excitement was gone and right now you regretted recommending him.

“What? What’s wrong?” He finally stopped his blabbering, noticing the look on your face was the same one you gave Hyuck when he hurt you. If there was something Mark didn’t want was to be compared to his best friend.

“You’ll be moving out won't you?”

“Well yeah…”

You shift on your spot, head hanging low.

“Please don’t. I promise we don’t mind you staying, actually it’s been the best thing to happen to me.” He dismissed the fact that you were talking about yourself, not wanting to make illusions out of it.

“Y/n,” he softly chuckles, his hand cupping your cheek and making you turn to him. “I can’t commute daily for one-to-two hours, honey.”

Oh… that wasn’t good.

The sweet adoring look in his eyes wasn’t helping either. “Come on, I did tell you I’d stay for only a little bit didn’t I?” He tenderly smiled, thumb playing with the corner of your lips, all you could do was pout at him.

“I didn’t expect it to be too short, I like you around. It’d be better if you just stayed with us.” He found your protruding lower lip adorable, unconsciously rubbing his thumb across it. “Thanks, but you guys are married, I can’t just third wheel all the time. Maybe if you two were just dating it’d be different but you're not and sooner or later you’ll form a family, I’d just stick out like a sore thumb.”

A family with Donghyuck? God, you put that thought in the back burner for too long after the incident that the words were making you ill now. Even when you two were dating, the idea of a family wasn’t something pleasant.

Mark took your silence as you still being sad about him possibly leaving, patting your arm and stretching his arms to take you in an embrace. “Don’t be so pouty, it won’t do us any good.” He spoke against your ear once his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

He felt warm, his musk even more prominent than last night. Your own arms tightened around his waist, pulling him closer even when the shift stick was in between.

“Just really wish you wouldn’t leave us…” you pulled away slightly, enough to make him turn to look at you. “Wouldn’t leave me.” In a whisper, the words hit his lips.

Mark’s lips parted, shaky breaths leaving as he noticed how close you were. When the lingering stares didn’t subside until you leaned in to what he assumed was a kiss to his cheek; it took him by surprise when your lips fell upon his.

His eyes widened in shock but the flavor of your cherry stain was too sweet and the taste of you was intoxicating. He’d be a liar if he said wanted to pull away but just with all temptation, Mark fell into it.

His arms tightened around you, his eyes shutting and finally reciprocating the kiss you initiated. He loved the small whines that spilled from your lips. He swallowed them all with every passing that he’d part his, deepening the kiss and both your hands began to roam.

You felt it in your core, that excruciating desire when his nimble fingers danced around the hem of your shirt, finding an opening so he could stick his hand under it. Your flesh was cold against his, aching at how his fingers cooled with just a touch.

Your hands had unraveled from his waist, now playing with the buckle of his belt. Popping it open, and continuing the quest with his pants. He’d harden with every touch of yours, your palm rubbing his cock over the strained textile that only made him ache more.

His warm fingers felt like fire against your freezing flesh, they danced across your back, caressing it until they met with the strap of your bra. Playing with the clasp until he was able to unbuckle it and his hands rushed to your breasts, kneading the mounds that seemed to be made for his hands. A perfect fit.

Your moans loudly cascaded into his mouth, his tongue enveloping yours with every passing kiss. When your hands managed to pull at the hem of his briefs and finally grasp his hardened shaft; his own moans became present.

Eyes shut tightly, he bit your lower lip pleasurably painful. Your hands had warmed up in the process of touching him, that warmth making him feel like pity under your grasp with every pump you gave his cock.

“I want to taste you.” Your voice broke him out of his daze, your lips finding solace in his neck, licking and nipping at the flesh. Mark moans vibrating through his throat, making you ravish his neck even more, your hand moving at a rhythm that was causing him to shake under you.

Upon opening his eyes, it had dawned on him that you two were still in the parking lot of the studio. A wave of freight flooded him and a gasp left his lips along a worried ‘fuck’.

“Wait, stop, stop!” His abruptness confused you and almost scared you. If he was regretting this already you didn’t know how to take it. “We can’t do it here, I think I saw a lake not far from here.” But he put your mind at ease making your concerned frown turn into a smile, leaning in to kiss him as he tucked himself back in.

Looking around to make sure no one had seen anything, Mark rushed out of the parking lot. Your labored breaths faintly mixing with the radio conductor mentioning to make plans for the new millennium and enjoy the last months of this year.

Some were frightened and others were scared. As for you, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that Mark arrived to you months before the 2000s. Maybe that’s the new beginning everyone is talking about.

Minutes later, you’d arrive at the lake he was talking about. Maybe it was because he was speeding from his excessive desire but he found a spot in which you’d both be hidden from the public. Rushing out and towards you; Mark made sure to cramp both of you inside the backseat.

From how rushedly you both went in, some bumps along the way weren’t missed, making you both whine but forget about it when looking at each other. Hyuck wasn’t present in Mark’s mind but he was in yours.

You were really doing this and remorse was difficult to find.

“God, I’m so glad I can have you like this.” His lips spewed after each of his kisses on you. They were warm with every passing peck, attaching themselves to yours. Your hips began rutting against his groin, the thin piece of skirt doing nothing to hold off.

Instantly Mark could feel the wet patch, groaning at how warm it was. Fuck, he wanted you badly.

Upon pulling away from the kiss you two were too enthralled in, Mark looked at you through hooded dark eyes. He looked at you as if you were prey, the one who’d succumb to him and the way his grip on your waist tightened told you so.

Patting your ass while bunching up your skirt, “Lay on your back, I wanna eat you out.” His voice had dropped an octave, the huskiness making you shiver as you unbutton your blouse, the bra falling gracefully once free from the confinement of the buttons.

Curses spilled from his lips looking at you on his journey to kneel on the floor of the car, trying his best to push up the front seats to give him enough space. His once dark eyes glistened at the view of you, all that was left was the tiny fabric of your panties and the bunch around your waist.

He caressed your thighs, leaning in to leave tiny wet kisses against the flesh that caused your eyelids to flutter from how close he was to your cunt. You could feel his breath fanning over the area, your legs twitching as he inched closer and closer.

When his lips hovered over your clothed cunt, Mark looked at you through his lashes, smirking at the state he had left you, blowing on your aching mound. “Stop fucking around.” You whined, hands clutching onto your breast, fingers twirling around your perked buds.

Mark chuckled, nodding in response before his fingers pushed aside the fabric of your panties. Moans erupting from his throat with every strand of your arousal stuck to your panties. He didn’t take much to please you, his own want taking over his being.

Mark felt too happy about having you that he didn’t think about anything, not even the fact that he was betraying his best friend. Essentially his brother.

His tongue came in contact with your slit, swiping upwards to meet your clit and continue the process of enticing kitty licks. You’ve been starved for so long that just the simple caress of his warm muscle was making you wither underneath him.

Your fingers danced across your skin, leaving warm trails on the frozen canvas. You couldn’t stop looking at him, progressively divulging further the more he fell obsessed with the taste of you. Mark ravaged the cavern between your legs, his lips glossed over by your juices that dripped down his chin.

He looked beautiful.His eyes screwed shut as he savored you, tongue laying flat when it wasn’t on your clit, his fingers grappling your thighs tightly enough to not let you go, and his lips refusing to let their suction go from you clit.

Your moans cascaded out your lips like a siren’s song, reeling him deeper and deeper into your trap. He didn’t mind, if he was to die at your hands then so be it, at least he’ll die blissfully.

Enveloping his rosy lips on your clit, he latched onto it for dear life. Suctioning with force, much to your pleasure, Mark basked in the whimpers you let out. Withering under his touch and crying when he only kept granting you more pleasure.

It didn’t help he teased your entrance with his fingers, making you cry over how much you wanted to feel full. In that instance, he parted from you, allowing you to spew your angry whimpers.

“Look at me.” He patted your thigh forcefully enough to leave a sting behind. “Come on.” He demanded, repositioning himself closer to you, a perfect fit between his face and your cunt.

When you were finally able to open your eyes, you breathed out at the experience he was granting. “Don’t look away or close your eyes. I’ll stop if you do.” He menacingly spoke, smirking at how you responded with a frown and a nod.

“Good girl. ” Fuck.

Breaking eye contact with you; Mark puckered his lips, accumulating spit that as of now he was letting slide down his tongue and onto your cunt. That same muscle poking out to spread it across your labia and clit.

A hand came up to your mouth, trying your best to muffle the cry he caused. It didn’t help he found your frustrations amusing and his chuckles made a vibration that sent you overboard even more.

You’d both could end up dying at each other’s hands.

His tongue lapped at your clit, collecting his spit and your arousal around the mound each time he was to suck on it. Mark knew you liked it, your body always reacted by shaking and your fingers threading onto his hair.

He liked the sting from when you pulled on his locks. He liked when you shoved his face closer to the point you began to ride his face while his tongue penetrated you, licking upon every inch of your walls. It didn’t help that he tried his best to not break eye contact. With every moment and action, you’d both look at each other like your life depended on it.

“Mark please… please let me finish, fuck—“ it came out strangled. His fingers clung to your skin, rubbing your clit each time his lips left it to allow his tongue to fuck you.

He hummed against your cunt, warm breath fanning over it before kissing it passionately again. Mark didn’t respond but he did give you a show. With the way he sensually stuck out his tongue to caress your slit upon allowing his lips to land on your mound, you couldn’t help but feel that excruciating pit in your stomach flow to core, tingling painfully.

He teased you each time. When he laid his tongue flat, he’d throw you a glance before shutting his eyes and swallowing your essence, fully intoxicated by it.

“Mark!” You whined, a chilling tantrum to ensue. “Alright, alright, you big baby.” He laughed, swiveling his tongue flat against you. You felt your eyes roll and when he thought you were disobeying his one request, he nipped your thigh, causing you to squeal at the shock.

“What did I tell you?” He cocked his eyebrow, teeth clenching around your sensitive flesh. “I’m looking, I’m looking.” You reassured, a look of despair on your face. A silent snort left him before resuming his activities.

All that was heard was the mixture of labored breaths, cries, his deep moans, and the squelching between your cunt and his mouth. You couldn’t hold back much longer, it was becoming overstimulating and Mark didn’t hold back off much with how he worked his tongue.

He seemed to sense your frustrations. His fingers picked up the pace on your bud, pressing down for more friction while his tongue entered you. Pistoning in and out, collecting every drop and making sure it didn’t spill to the car seat.

You couldn’t hold much longer, your thighs clenched around his face, causing him to look directly at you while your body gave out on you. He pressed down on your lower abdomen with his free hand. In a matter of seconds, you twisted under him. A coil unraveling where he held you and a loud moan leaving as a cry, your essence gushing out, covering his facial lower half.

He made sure to not let a single drop go, his tongue overstimulating you to no end but nevertheless stopped his assault. Your eyes were fixated on his, desperate want making you pull him by the neck, ravishing his lips with yours.

The sweet nectar of you clinging to his tongue, the same tongue that waltzed around with yours. In the process of holding onto him for dear life, Mark kicked off his pants, shimming out of them and his briefs. Bare beneath, he pulled you over his aching cock, the tip gracing your lower half enough to make you squirm desperately.

“Fill me whole…” You whispered against his lips, biting them from time to time to signal how much you needed him. “Shit, looking at you is going to make me cum already.” You laughed along with him, connecting your lips again while your hips rutted against his cock.

The silk of your walls rubbing against him, groaning in despair with every single of your movement, and he couldn’t even hold you or he’d make you go faster. He needed to be inside of you badly or he’d probably end up splattering all over his stomach.

“Yeah?” You questioned, face leaning against your shoulder, gripping his shirt so tightly it could leave wrinkles on it. “I want to paint your walls and feel it all ooze down them while I fuck it into you.” Mark’s words made you feel lightheaded, speeding up your pace and your fingernails to cling onto his shoulder blades.

He winced at the sting, removing your hands before pulling off his shirt, sweat drenching his bare chest. His proportions were insane; his slim physique enticing you to wrap your arms around him, holding tightly to his small waist as his abs clenched with the feeling of you against him.

“Lift your ass up a bit.” He commanded, holding your lower back while pumping his shaft, letting his precum collect at the tip. You took this as an opportunity to kiss the exposed skin of his neck. Your tongue licking stripes along his clavicle while it made its way to his jaw, leaving kisses all along it.

You could feel his disgruntled moans vibrating against your lips the more he jerked himself off, leaving you dry and needy with occasionally taunting of his tip rubbing against your cunt causing you to whine against his ear for him to laugh at your misery.

“Mark, stop teasing!” You cried against his chest, your hands clinging onto him. Your hips began rutting against him again, lowering them until he’d smack his large hand across your flesh— reacting with a jolt and a gasp of arousal, your cunt never failed to clench around air.

“You’re so needy, princess. I guess I can’t keep you waiting.” His lower lip pushed out in faux apologies, a smirk creeping out when you rolled your eyes at him. He only laughed, kissing you while aligning his cock with your cunt, eagerly ready to dive in.

He didn’t tease you anymore. Taking a grasp by your waist, Mark aided you to sink onto his cock, the stretch of his girth making you mewl like a wounded cat. You didn’t imagine him to be this big even when you held him you didn’t think much of it but now that he was fully in you and gravity was only making him fill you to the hilt, you fully felt his volume.

His hands caressed your face and hair, patting down the strands while you tried your best to become comfortable around him. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult, maybe it was because of your lack of sexual life with Hyuck that any intrusion was foreign but God were you starting to enjoy the pain mixed with pleasure his best friend was sprawling within you.

“You good?” He wondered, eyes fighting to keep open and experience your every movement fearing the moment would be gone if he didn’t keep himself fixated on you. “Yeah— fuck me, please…” you begged, your hips beginning to move against his. His lips fell ajar, his curses spilling in a prayer, fingers denting your skin the tighter his grip became.

He created scratch marks along the flesh; his hips met your rhythm and your silent pleads became audible when you felt the angry tip of his cock kiss upon your walls leaving its gratitude in the form of gratification.

As for him, he felt your walls tighten around him, ready to clear him of all his cum— claiming him as your own. It wasn’t helpful that you were also holding onto him not wanting to let him go, your lips enticing him with every caress you gave.

“You drive me insane, y/n…” he began, the sound of skin slapping against skin fading any other besides your labored breaths. His breath danced across your cheek, ruffling the hair that stuck to the sweat you produced. “I never thought we’d end up in this predicament but it feels as if it was meant to be— you for me and—“ your lips encased his, not letting him finish his sentence.

Whatever it was that he was trying to clear out was long forgotten the second your hips picked up their speed and the rhythm of your swiveling pelvis made him groan into the kiss. “I can’t get enough of you and this is only the beginning.” He laughed in between pauses, you shushed him in the process.

You didn’t want to hear him talk besides his obscenities and praises, that’s all. It wasn’t time to bring in the reality you two will face or that awaits you. All that was precious at the moment was his cock stuffed inside your cunt causing both of you unimaginable pleasure.

His eyes left yours, looking in between both of you. Mark lowered his head, accumulating spit in his mouth before letting the string of saliva fall onto your cunt. He took some of the spit that fell between you both and took it upon your clit.

Biting his lower lip, pushing his hair back a bit— Mark continued to thrust his hips, fingers starting to circle at your clit clockwise. His grunts became louder just like yours with the amount of friction between you both. When his pelvic bone rubbed in between your bodies as his fingers went hard at your clit, you couldn’t help but feel your legs shake.

The image of his spit dribbling down the tip of his tongue onto where you two connected was engraved in your mind, head throwing back by mere memory. “Do it in my mouth.” You told him, hand cupping his cheek. “Spit in it?” He questioned, you nodded, sticking your tongue out much to his pleasure.

Puckering his lips, Mark saw the string of saliva land perfectly on your red muscle. You held it out for him to see as he thrusted into you, the pool rippled and threatened to fall with each of these jolts. Closing your mouth to swallow his residue, you stuck your tongue out again to show him you had taken all of it, simulating what you could do if it was his cum.

He groaned at the image before him, the glistening of your sweaty chest blinding him as he pulled you closer to him by your cheeks. His fingers dug dents into your flesh as he held them tightly.

“You’re so hot, fuck!” A guttural groan left him, this time his spit was angry by the way it splattered in your mouth. This time he didn’t let you swallow it, his lips softly collided against yours, hot and angry was the plump flesh that ravished yours, nipping in hopes to receive more of your wanton noises.

His tongue felt soft against yours, like that of satin and velvet rubbed against each other with the warmest of liquid coating them both. Sloppy the kiss was becoming, enough to let air in and make it last longer. You loved the taste of him, whether it was the mint-iness of his toothpaste or the blueberry tea he drank before leaving the apartment— it was driving you crazy how obsessed you were becoming.

Mark was so near, with how hard he was thrusting within you, walls warm and clenching around his bare cock— all he wished for was to cum, to cum on you, in you, or over you— it didn’t matter. He just wanted to cum and now he couldn’t really help himself.

“I can’t hold it any longer.” He warned you, removing his fingers from your clit, hands now holding tightly onto your hips. “Mark…” you whimpered, eyes barely opened, sweat accumulating at your neck making it all so sticky but it seemed to be over quite soon. Your forehead pressed against his, hand holding onto his neck.

“Huh?” He’d respond, moving his hips once again, his pace only increased when you didn’t continue talking. “God, keep going.” You finally answered him, a soft chuckle leaving his lips before his head dipped down and kissed you once again. His lips soon trailed down your neck, tongue lapping at the thin flesh between your collarbones holding back to not leave any marks.

It was eating him alive. Not because of Hyuck but because he wanted a mark on you to know this wasn’t a dream that he was actually fucking you and that you had chose him. But all he could muster was licking your flesh, savoring you to at least have that memory. Even the marks his teeth made disappeared quickly, taunting him and his credibility.

You pulled his hair to make him look at you again, a pained yelp leaving his open mouth. He looked so pretty it could make you cry. In that instance you took him in for another kiss, just like him this was the only memory you could have.

The kiss worked to muffle your increasing moans while he thrusted within you. By how close your bodies were, his lower half began rubbing at your sensitive clit. He seemed to know how sensitive you were down below as he only kept going faster and harder, allowing your fingers to dig deeper into his shoulders.

You were so close, he knew it. Mark knew how close you were and it didn’t help him at all. Your lips parted from his as yours mewls became highly audible, lips slightly agape. Mark couldn’t help but wonder how your lips covered in cum would look like. Just the imagery of the warm cloudy substance on your swollen lips made him hold onto your waist to fuck further more into you.

“I can feel you so deep inside me,” you laughed against his neck, lips gracing his delicate flesh. “You’re twitching so much, just let go, Markie...” Your words sent him into a frenzy. His eyes screwed shut, his fingers refusing to let go of you and it wasn’t of much help that his sensitive tip was rubbing up against your warm walls. Kissing his cock with every thrust and squeezing in frustration every time it threatened to leave them.

Oh, fuck he couldn’t help himself. With one last thrust and on the verge of cumming; Mark pushed you further down his cock as much as he could despite how much he’s abused your cunt with this same action alone. You clenched around him from the friction, your pleasured cries from the impact locking inside his ears making his cock leak like an angry water hose in the horrid summer trying to release everyone from the heat.

You felt the spurts shoot painfully within you, a new wave of pleasure that shocked you from how long you haven't felt cum coat your cavern. The instance he did, your own eyes bulged out, lips forming a perfect ‘O’ that graced against his.

Both shared moans, swallowing them while trying to breathe and in the process you felt that same flush of pleasure in your lower abdomen. You chased your orgasm, continuing your movement against his cock, overstimulating him to the point he felt an ache with each stroke but if it meant you were feeling good, then so be it.

It wasn’t much longer until you felt that ache as well, slowing down the movement of your hips, your grip loosening from him but his didn’t on you. Upon stopping your actions, Mark brought you face closer, his lips leaving sloppy kisses along your temple and side of the face, while his praises spilled like a lullaby.

“ You did so good …” He huffed out, kisses on your cheek. “ You did so good for me, princess .” He swallowed trying to regain his breath, forehead connecting with yours in the process of trying to calm yourself down as well.

“You’re so good to me, y/n. You’re too good to me, you were made for me, you’re mine.” He chuckled, patting your cheek to make sure your fluttering eyes looked into his round doe ones. You didn’t respond, he didn’t give you an opportunity to do so.

With a quick and final kiss from him, Mark took you into an embrace, arms tightly around you with no way to free yourself from it (not like you wanted to at the moment) leaving you to simply return the gesture and hold onto him tightly. His cock still buried in you.

You could hear his heartbeat fighting to calm down but having you this close to him wasn’t much help. In that instance it all came crashing down on you and him. His once happy smile fell the moment clarity came in and the trees outside rustled. Their wind chimes slipping in between branches and leaves, repeating the same thing he’s already processing. There was some shame but no guilt or regret. He felt pity for Hyuck and the friendship they had. It all came to one conclusion:

He’s betrayed his brother.

if you liked 'happy together' then you'll like: airbag

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