@sakuraslibrary

blondes are done with fun ✲ h. renjun

pairing. journalism student! renjun x journalism student! fem! reader starring. huang renjun, lee donghyuck, yoo jimin, huh yunjin genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. angst, fluff, smut warnings. alcohol consuption, swearing, renjun is a dick at the beginning, sexual content (fingering, unprotected sex) word count. 31k (31.320) a/n. awsten knight please stop making music so i can stop writing fics about your songs thanku. also this is my first smut please be gentle with it also if you're my friend please don't read the smut parts orif you do dont tell me abt it or i will literally kms

playlist. cherry red - waterparks ; fake happy - paramore ; heaven angel - the driver era ; blonde - waterparks ; disaster - conan gray ; raspberry - grouplove ; black butterflies and déjá vu - the maine ; fuck about it - waterpakrs, blackbear ; robbers - the 1975

a rumor has it that the popular couple in town broke up after years of being together. having to share your favorite seat in class with the male part of said relationship, you try to find out how to make your heartbroken project partner warm up to you— or— huang renjun goes blonde when he's sad.

✲ PART 1 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

“A rumor has it Huang Renjun and Huh Yunjin broke up,” is the first sentence that lands into your ears when your feet cross the imaginary border of the school premises one early morning, a cup of coffee in your hand as your best friend Jimin breaks the news to you, walking by your side into the university building.

Snapping your head around to look at her in shock and surprise at the news, eyes wide in question, you’re already invested in the love life of your classmates more than you probably should be, but due to multiple reasons that could explain it; one of them being the ordinary human curiosity– mainly created in your brain thanks to the fact that these two had dated for as long as you can remember– another reason being the gossip-oriented side of your personality– the part of it you like to explain through the fact that you’re a Journalism major and the love for gossip is just another part of your (hopefully) future occupation– and the last reason, the one that is probably the most harmless of them all (or maybe the most, depending on how you look at it) is the mere fact that while Huang Renjun had been a taken man for as long as you remember, he is also insanely attractive, and you’re just a simple woman. The idea of him being finally attainable is irking something in your brain, and even though you would feel embarrassed to admit this out loud, you can’t help but wonder what happened between those two after such a long time that made the legendary couple– iconic, even– break up. 

“What happened?” you ask, walking alongside the girl as you round the corner of the hall, in a rush to get to your morning class. The two of you slept in by accident, watching too many episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians last night to notice the clock striking well past midnight, and now the journey to school was more difficult than it already is, with your dorms situated 30 minutes away and the class starting at 8 o’clock sharp. The time is now 7:58AM and while you’re already in the building and yours and Jimin’s classes are different, they are both on the fifth floor– and with the frequency of your visits to the gym, the way up there is hard not only because of the time pinch, but also because of the shortness of your breath when you rush to walk up there in less than five minutes before you have to take the walk of shame to your desk, watched by the professor with passive aggressive eyes.

“Nobody knows,” Jimin heaves out, taking two steps at once now, “I just heard from Yizhuo that Yunjin deleted all of their Instagram posts together and she supposedly stopped wearing that necklace he got her for their anniversary. Oh and also, Renjun didn’t drop her off at school on Friday, so something must be up.”

Humming in agreement, you rush up the stairs, the halls already emptied out because all of the students are hidden in their respective classroom. You manage to keep your voice down in case anyone’s listening in on your insensitive gossip, now that your voices aren’t drowned out by any other noise. “That’s weird. They’ve been together for so long, I’m starting to lose faith in real love if they really broke up.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Jimin squints as the two of you finally reach the fifth floor, the girl checking the time on her wristwatch huffing out at the sight of already being late, “something bad must have happened, if they really broke up, because the two of them didn’t seem like they’ve had any problems, you know.”

“Definitely,” you nod, pacing along the hall as you finally reach the door to your classroom, waving your roommate off with a tight-lipped smile, still trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you after class?”

The girl doesn’t even turn around as she agrees with you, long legs striding down the hall into the last classroom on the left, waving at you with her right hand. “See ya!”

Silently opening the door to the classroom, you notice the professor already standing at the very front of the class, turning around to look at your figure once the almost unhearable noise of the door cuts through the silence in the room. Offering her a shameful smile, you hurriedly scan the space, feeling the eyes of everyone glued to your sweaty and out of breath body, as you try to find a place to sit. Your usual seat is right at the corner of the room, at the very back– it has the window in close accessibility, so you don’t have to worry about being too hot or too cold, depending on the weather, because you regulate the freshness of the air in the classroom. The window also provides a good distraction to you once the class gets too boring to listen to, so you’d say with 100% sureness that the desk you chose to sit at the very first day of your Journalism class was the best option. 

However, when you look at the usually empty desk for two– one of the chairs, the one closer to the corridor being your handy armrest as well as a place to put your coat and bag on as you sit on the other one, the one closer to the window– you notice a man sitting at your usual place, eyes glued to the whiteboard. Feverishly scanning the classroom once again, realizing in terror that there is no other empty space for you to sit at, you sigh in annoyance as you near your usual desk, cursing the intruder in your brain for breaking the unwritten seating plan. 

Taking the bag off your shoulder, you softly land it to the ground, afraid of making any noise that would interrupt your professor’s lecture again. After sitting at the chair and trying to listen to the words coming out of your professor’s mouth, trying to see what she’s talking about, you find yourself drifting off into the mess of your thoughts, choosing to daydream about the amazing lunch you’re about to have once your classes are over for the day, your eyes knowingly moving away from the whiteboard to their place out of the window. It’s a little harder to gaze out of it in the different position– you tell yourself you’ll come earlier next week so the intruder doesn’t take away your spot again and you can go back to your usual plan of watching people walking through the campus and making up fake stories about them in your brain– when your periphery vision takes notice of the side profile of your seatmate, the curve of his nose and the slight pout of his upper lip sparking interest in you as your brain finally connects the dots.

Only slightly moving your head to the side, so your seatmate doesn’t notice you staring, you observe Huang Renjun sitting at your desk. The image in front of you (or beside you, to be precise) surprises you to an extent nothing has ever surprised you before (no, not even the birthday parties Jimin has thrown you have made this effect on you– but that’s probably because she can’t keep a secret and always spoiled the surprise), and once again, there are multiple reasons for your surprise. To list a few, you’d start with the fact that Huang Renjun almost always sat at the same desk with his girlfriend Yunjin– the desk was at the very opposite corner of the room, leaving you to occasionally observe the couple as he landed a hand onto her thigh or let her put her leg into his lap, away from the eyes of the professor– but due to the news that were broken to you just a few minutes prior, maybe this is the only reason that shouldn’t surprise you with the sight of Renjun sitting by your side. Continuing the list, you’d state the fact that the boy looks lifeless– his eyes lost their usual spark and there are dark circles adorning his lower eyelids, the sick look making you feel almost sorry for your classmate. And to finish the list, you’d state the fact that takes you by surprise the most– the one that shocks you to your core, for it’s the reason why you didn’t recognise the boy when you first sat down in the first place. His hair is now bleach blond, and while the look definitely suits him, it’s something different, something new– because for as long as you can remember, not many things changed in Renjun’s appearance over the years, and you’re not so sure if you can consider this as the side effect of his breakup, or if he really just wanted change.

Blinking at the male, as if to make sure that you’re not dreaming, you take notice of the dead strands falling into his eyes, contrasting well with the darkness of his eyes. Once again noting that you’re just a simple woman and Huang Renjun is simply put, a very attractive man, you can’t help but gaze at him with a newly found interest, everything you’ve learned about the male this morning irking you with undeniable curiosity.

The sad and embarrassing reality of it all is, though, that you’re not the only one who gets that weird feeling of someone staring at you in public sometimes, only for that feeling to be true as you turn around and see someone with their eyes burning through your skull; Huang Renjun gets them as well, it seems, as he turns his head to you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if to silently ask you why the hell you’re creepily staring at his side profile in the middle of your Journalism class. The two of you were never close, despite sharing multiple classes over the course of multiple semesters, and so being caught only made you feel more embarrassed as you sharply turn your head towards the front of the classroom– so much for being subtle and nonchalant about it, erasing all the possibility of playing it off in the process– feeling heat creeping up your neck. 

This is not how you imagined your morning to go.

Trying hard to pay attention to the class instead, in order to both learn something and also forget about the events happening only a few seconds prior, there’s no use as your brain now decided to replay the moment over and over again, making sure you never forget about it and randomly think of it in the middle of the night 5 years from now, still not moving on from the shame. In the process of trying so hard to focus, you actually do quite the opposite– as if your brain decided to turn off from the essence of humiliation instead to protect you– and before you notice it, the class is over and everyone is scattering out of the classroom with their things and bags hung over their shoulders. At least it’s finally over, you think, when a voice lands into your ear, shaking you out of it.

“We’re doing the project together,” he says, and as you turn around to face the owner of the saccharine voice to inquire him on what the actual fuck he’s even talking about, before you get the chance, the man is already out of the room, leaving you standing in full dumbfoundance.

Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to the class, after all.

Next week, even though you arrive to class earlier than the last, it seems like your designated seat in the corner of the classroom is now your and Renjun’s designated seat in the corner of the classroom, and if you’re being totally honest, this is exactly the thing you did not expect to come up on your Junior year bingo card. Talking over the whole interaction with Jimin right when you got to dorms– alongside with the takeout you ordered in the restaurant that’s at the corner of the street– the both of you stared into your plates with a newly found sense of absolute, utter confusion. 

You also had to shamefully text one of the only classmates from your Journalism class whose number you have– Osaki Shotaro, who you had a thing with in Freshman year because you thought he was an exchange student and would go back to Japan after summer, surprising you with his smiley face in the class in your Sophomore year (and this year, once again) as you had to be reminded of making out with him at a party every time your eyes landed on the poor boy– about the assignment. The truth is, you could just ask Renjun when you got into class, but you also wanted to spare yourself the embarrassment of that action. Through your fling from Freshman year, you learned that you have to work in pairs on a magazine of some sort– and while the assignment still wasn’t clear to you, after Shotaro ended the text message with ‘i’m sorry tho, i already have a partner ://’, you didn’t have enough dignity in you to pry him for any more information.

Clearing your throat as you step inside the classroom with an encouraging slap to your bottom coming from your roommate walking along to her usual class at the end of the hall, you walk over to your seat and put your bag onto the ground, silently sitting on the chair next to the corridor– the thing that makes you the most furious about this whole thing– as you prepare for the next lecture. From what you’ve gathered, the assignment was 70% of your final grade, and you really didn’t feel like failing your most favorite subject, especially if it’s something you could see yourself doing in the future. Working on something like this with someone you’ve hardly ever spoken to was a scary feeling, though. 

The class starts as soon as the noise of footsteps fills your ears, your professor standing at the very front of the classroom announcing her arrival with a heartfelt smile on her face. Sometimes you wonder if it’s her cheery demeanor that makes you like the class so much, but then again, you’ve always been interested in the topic– her character is just a bonus.

“Hello class,” she greets, full of energy despite it only being 8 in the morning, “I decided that instead of following with the lectures today, I will leave you some space to plan out your final project for the class. It has the weight of 70% of your grade, so it’s kind of important, so make sure you plan it well and come up with something original and interesting. The contents are 25-35 pages and you have until the end of the semester to complete it, so I hope you all put in some effort!”

Nods and hums of understatement are shared along the class, the pairs turning to each other in soft murmurs as some even take out a journal to note down all the things they come up with. You think it’s not a bad idea to at least brainstorm a little, but with how awkward you feel at the moment with your project partner sitting right next to you, you don’t think you can start. And the thing is, Jimin told you you could just pick a different partner– but as you look across the filled classroom, you really don’t think working with anyone else is possible, since you don’t have many friends in this class and everyone seems to be paired up already. Huang Renjun is your only choice, and although it doesn’t fill you with relief, you wonder why he chose you, when in reality, he’s the popular one– he has many different choices to pick from. Maybe he was just too lazy to ask anyone else. Who knows.

Clearing your throat again, you avert your gaze from the front of the classroom and try to sneak a look on your seatmate. The platinum blonde hair neatly styled on his head doesn’t fail to make you shocked again, but you figure you must start to get used to it now, because you can’t keep living with the constant urge to stare at the boy just because he dyed his hair. Waiting for him to look at you or give you any sign of the fact that he’s willing to work on the project, you continue your little staring contest with his side profile– it seems like he’s in the mood to ignore you today, so you gotta bring out the big guns and actually talk to him instead.

“So… how do you want to work on this?” you mumble out, nervously bumping your knee up and down. Human interaction isn’t your favorite thing in the world, mainly because you don’t like things you’re not good at– this includes sports, but mainly volleyball, drawing, knitting and mixing drinks as well– but you’d say with full confidence that making friends and talking to new people is truly the worst thing you could ever imagine. 

You notice that your seatmate finally recognised your efforts to spark up a conversation– he rewards you with a shrug of his shoulders as he not only does not look at you, but also decides to lay on the desk instead, closing his eyes as if this was the perfect time for him to catch up on his lost sleep. “Dunno,” he says, “we have plenty of time, let’s not do this right now.”

Blinking a few times at the male, you are once again struck by lightning that is his weird attitude to things. If this was how he behaved with Yunjin, you can’t blame the girl for breaking up with him– everything about the smug look on his face and the fact that he chose to take your favorite seat in the classroom makes your blood boil with annoyance. 

“W-what?” you stutter out, still not quite believing your ears. 

The man doesn’t reply to you– it’s too much effort, it seems– only making you angrier. Why did he even choose you as his partner if he didn’t want to work on the project in the first place? You’re no stranger to procrastination and leaving work for last minute, and you’re also not really a fan of the feeling of stress creeping up your back whenever you give in to the inevitable action of procrastinating; so if it comes to a project that is quite literally 70% of your grade, you would rather not do everything the week before.

Seeing that you’re getting ignored again, you put on your brave face as you fold your hands on your chest, determined to do something about the issue at hand. “Can’t you just put in some effort, man? I’d rather not do this last minute. I know that you probably don’t give a shit, but I do care about my grades, y’know,” you get out, seeing as the man next to you finally straightens his back and looks at you sharply– as if he has any right to point you with the killing look in this dark eyes– before he squints in mock agony.

“Do you really have to be such a fucking perfectionist?” he snaps at you, taking you by surprise. 

This is not how you imagined Huang Renjun to be. Looking at him over the course of the years, more often than not, you always saw the boy with a welcoming smile on his face. Whenever he was around Yunjin, he was all sweet words and gentle touches, erupting laughter whenever he was around his friends. When you were a freshman, somewhere in the back of your brain, you even envied the circle of friends he had around him, daydreaming about fitting in with them when you were lonely at lunch break. That was before you met Jimin at volleyball practice– the extracurricular you lasted in only for a week with the intention of making some friends (at least it worked) – and moved in with her in your second semester when both of your roommates decided to drop out. The girl provided you with undeniable love and care, and while you no longer desired to fit into a circle like Huang Renjun’s, talking to him now makes you feel like a child with crushed dreams.

“I’m sorry?” is all you get out as you stare at him with shock. If you were in a better mood, you would’ve searched through your brain to find a snarky remark to bite back at the boy. It’s too early in the morning and you weren’t prepared for his attitude, though, so you only opt to stare at him as he sighs in what you presume is annoyance– or defeat– as he scatters through his backpack and takes you a notebook, opening it to the first page and clicking his pen he found somewhere in the depths of his bag so he can write with it.

Too taken aback from his sudden change of mind, you wait for him to initiate any other action. You really don’t feel like getting screamed at again, so you chose to play it safe as you watch the man scribble the words Final project at the very top of the paper, underlining it two times and circling it five, the weird ritual making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“25 pages. We split half and half, so you can come up with whatever you want. We can do the design together and I really couldn’t give less shit about who works on the cover, so if you really want to do it, you can. Good?” he says, not once looking at you as he writes the words down on the paper. 

“Amazing,” you bite back with irony, shuffling your chair closer to the table so you can take a look at his notes, “the magazine has to have a coherent theme, though, doesn’t it? If we work on the pages by ourselves and just do whatever, as you said, it’s gonna be shit.”

You chose to accommodate yourself to the pattern of his speech– a habit you always do with new people, but in this situation, what feels the most safe. Seeing the man sigh again, twirling the ballpoint pen in between his fingers, he shrugs at your point and offers you a half-assed solution.

“We can figure that out later.”

Biting back a chuckle at his comment, it’s now your turn to sigh. Why was he being so difficult? Is it really that hard to make an effort on something important, especially when he was the one who said he wanted to work with you in the first place? Shaking your head in disbelief at his actions, you lean back in your chair and take out your own notebook, set on the decision of brainstorming as much as you can, hopefully coming out with some solid ideas you could incorporate in the magazine.

You have no idea what direction Renjun would go with. You don’t know anything about his interests or hobbies, and you surely don’t know what would inspire him or what he would want to write about. And with his new change of persona, you find him even more unreadable than he’s been in the past– and you can’t say you like the way he treats you right now. It seems like his sudden metamorphosis managed to change his brain synapses as well, because this is not the idea of Huang Renjun that you knew until now.

Chewing on the end of your pencil, you take a glimpse of your seatmate. He is messily scribbling something down onto his paper, seemingly realizing that the sooner you start working on this, the better, and with how full his paper seems to be, you wonder if this project won’t be that hard to complete after all.

“We’re doing the cover together,” you mumble out, seeing as the boy tears his eyes off his paper, glaring at you instead.

Almost expecting him to snap at you again, awaiting his suggestion that you will be the one doing all the work, you’re left with an answer that satisfies you with yet another surprise. “If you really insist…”

“Are you really sure you want to do this right now?” Jimin asks you as you put on your shoes at the door, slinging your backpack containing not only your laptop and notebooks, but also snacks just in case you get hungry. Looking at her through the hair falling into your face that you efficiently get out of the way with a poof of breath coming out of your mouth, you chuckle at her distress. The girl’s been watching you get ready for the last 15 minutes, with her robe on and bowl of guacamole in her right palm, eating up on the tortilla chips every once in a while as she squints at you with disbelief.

“Yeah, why not?” you shrug. “If he’s initiating this, I don’t see a problem. Besides, I think that if I don’t take every chance I get, I’ll end up working on the project alone, and I really don’t like that idea.”

Humming in agreement for the first time since you told your roommate that Renjun texted you if you wanted to work on the project today, Jimin motions to the phone sitting at the entryway table next to the front door. “Well, just make sure to text me if anything goes wrong and I’ll come pick you up,” she suggests, making you giggle at her noticeable worry. 

“Okay, mum,” you shake your head in disbelief, finally slugging the backpack over your shoulder and walking out of the door of your apartment. 

The truth is, you can’t really blame Jimin for her over-protective behavior. Ever since you retold her everything that happened that one time in Journalism class, she’s been wary of Huang Renjun. You would agree with all of her arguments of how much of a dick he is when acting like that, but you also don’t really think you have to put more energy into hating him at this moment, since it won’t really help you with your assignment and you don’t have any other choice. You are stuck with a grumpy project partner and that’s how the rest of your semester will go– you just have to learn how to live with his annoying remarks and snarky comments at whatever you say. Who knows, he may be in his ‘hating all women’ era, considering the breakup and all…

You can’t say you weren’t surprised when he added you on Instagram and messaged you about the project this afternoon, though. Considering that you were always the one initiating the talks about the final assignment over the course of the last few weeks, you weren’t expecting him to finally be the one reaching out. You would be stupid to not take him up on the offer, since you don’t know if it will happen ever again– who knows, he might have accidentally smashed his head into something and get a sudden revelation that is only a one time type of situation– and that’s exactly why you responded to him almost immediately (to which you admittedly, got a bit of an ick from yourself) and agreed to meet him at 6 in his apartment.

You were pleasantly surprised to learn that his place was only a 15 minute walk away from yours when he texted you the address, and after a few more minutes of scrolling through his Instagram that was private– and therefore hidden away from your eyes until now– you set yourself on the difficult journey.

Upon arriving at the apartment building, ringing the door bell and texting him to let you in just in case, so he knows it’s you, you start to feel a bit nervous, though. The truth is, you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into as you walk into the elevator and press the button that takes you to the fourth floor– as he texted you the moment the door to the complex opened– and you think it’s safe to imagine you could be running out of that apartment at any given moment. Maybe Jimin was right and you should’ve taken at least some self-defense tools with you. You never know these days.

Once the elevator door opens and you step outside of the small space, you get prepared to take out your phone again to text him and ask which door leads to his apartment– the right or left– when you’re surprised with the sight of Huang Renjun already waiting for you in the doorway, loose sweatpants, messy hair and all, expecting your arrival.

Clearing your throat, you tightly smile at the male. “Hello.”

“Hi,” is all he responds as he moves away from the door and disappears into the apartment, seemingly thinking you're going to follow him and get inside, no questions asked. You expected at least an invitation to his premises, even a wave of his hand would be nice, you think, but you guess you can’t really have expectations that high when it comes to men– especially if the man in question is the insufferable Huang Renjun.

Taking your shoes off at the entrance– because even though your host doesn’t have good manners, you still do– the figure of Huang Renjun suddenly appears in the doorway of one of the rooms, watching you put the sneakers into a corner that seems to be designated for footwear. Looking up at him with expecting eyes, he finally breaks the awkward silence as he takes a step inside one of the rooms, calling you to go after him.

“We can work here, I guess,” he mumbles, leading you into what you presume is a living room connected to a kitchen– the place is not that big, but you are a broke university student too, so you don’t have it in you to judge. The place is surprisingly clean and adorned with multiple plants all around the corners of the room and windowsills, the only thing out of place being some dishes at the kitchen counter, waiting to be either used or put away, since they look washed. There’s a sofa in the shape of an L in the middle of it all, a TV sitting right opposite of it on a small TV stand, and when you notice an opened laptop on the coffee table, you presume that this is your work station for the day. You half expected him to invite you to his bedroom, but you guess that you can’t really complain– this feels much less awkward anyway. 

Nodding at his words, you move to the sofa and rest your backpack against the foot of it. Taking out your laptop as well, you sit crossed-legged at the soft cushions as you watch Renjun walk over to the kitchen side of the room, opening up a cupboard and taking out two glasses, bringing them to the crowded coffee table alongside with a bottle of soda. You think this is his way of welcoming you in as your guest, but you don’t have it in yourself to thank him– he’s the one being silent all the time anyway. You won’t put effort unless he does.

The boy silently takes a seat opposite of you, but chooses the carpeted floor instead of the sofa– a sight that almost makes you chuckle in amusement when he struggles to fold his legs in the small space– sighing and bringing the laptop closer to himself, rubbing a palm across his face in presumed tiredness. 

“Did you work on the ideas for the articles?” you ask, voice low, as if you were afraid to speak first, now that you’re in his space. “If they’re too different from mine, we can make like… sections… in the magazine… or something like that. But I think it would be easier if they correlated, you know.”

Renjun hums, not giving you many words this time either. He’s always difficult to work with, but today, it irritates you twice as much– maybe because you’ve gone out of your way to meet him at his apartment, when it was all his idea to work on the project today in the first place. Sighing in disappointment, the boy takes it as a hint that you expect more of him than tired hums and silent nods, and so he opens his mouth to speak, soft voice echoing through the silent apartment.

“I did,” he says, “don’t really know what you’re going for, but I have a short list.”

Satisfied with his answer, you nod. “Can I see it?”

Shrugging, he looks around for a while, eyes searching through the place as he finally finds the paper peeking out from the bottom of the coffee table– so much for the seemingly clean space– and offers the A4 format to you, scribbles in blue ink almost unreadable as you squint onto them, bringing them closer to your face. Once your eyes finally get adjusted to his handwriting, you manage to decipher a few of the words he’s written down; some of his ideas are neatly described, yet, some of them are just a simple word that barely gives you any idea of what he truly meant to say.

The difference between more thought-out ideas like ‘Karaoke songs (history, questionnaire of favorites across the campus…)’, ‘The importance of art in education’, ‘How to really use wikipedia’ and simple words like ‘campus’, ‘festivals’ and ‘soccer(?)’ almost makes you laugh out loud, but you note that the boy actually took the time of his day to work on the project like he promised you he would the last time you spoke about it in class, so you can’t really say anything mean to him, for you truly think it would hurt his pride. Nodding as you finish reading over the list, you offer the paper back to him, noticing him watching you with eyes full of undeniable expectancy.

“Satisfied?” he asks, irony seeping through his voice. 

Rolling your eyes at him– because of course he has to be annoying about everything– you choose to not play by his rules, opting to nod instead and let the tiniest bit of irritation show only through your ironic smile as you reply to him. “Very, actually.”

Seeing as he’s satisfied with himself, you choose to continue to lead this meeting with the same energy as to this moment. You think it’s the safest choice, and it’s also what he seems to be comfortable with, so you don’t beat around the bush and speak up again. “I think it won’t be that hard to combine our lists, since our ideas aren’t that different,” you note, cringing at the suggestion that you and the man in front of you actually kind of think alike, “but I think it would be nice if we chose a few topics and wrote about them together. I bet the professor would like to see some articles written by the both of us, so it shows that we actually worked on it together, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” he mumbles under his breath, taking you off guard. See, maybe you got ahead of yourself when you thought that this afternoon might go by smoothly– you forgot for a moment that Huang Renjun enjoys the idea of being a total ass to the people around him (or you, at least) these days. Huffing at his response, you furrow your brows in disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Just… don’t wanna,” he answers shortly, shrugging in nonchalance.

The sight of him in front of you, not even sharing eye contact as he points his gaze towards his laptop, makes your blood boil. What does he even think of himself? You were starting to think that Jimin was right– you should’ve rethought this interaction over and spared yourself the trouble, because this was surely not going anywhere.

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you were clearly the one that told me we were project partners, so I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this-” you huff, but are instantly cut off by your partner.

“I’m being difficult?”

“Yes,” you jump in, “yes you are! And I don’t get why you even invited me over to work on this, when you clearly don’t have the slightest intention to do so in the first place!” you complete, almost ready to stand up from your place on the light-brown sofa and storm out of his apartment. 

He chuckles at your outburst, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not in the mood to work on a stupid project after arguing the whole day on the phone with my cheating ex-girlfriend,” he mutters.

The moment those words come out of his mouth, it seems like the already silent apartment gets even quieter. Staring at him in dumbfoundance, the spark that ignited the anger in you suddenly dies out as you ponder on your next actions. Because what does one do when your project partner suddenly overshares possibly one of the most traumatic and heartbreaking facts about himself so casually, in between snarky comments and a petty argument? Sure, you do feel sorry for him now– because no matter how shitty a person acts to you, nobody deserves to get cheated on– and you suddenly wonder if the whole change of atmosphere in his character isn’t the direct result of this very fact. 

You can’t tell him that you’re sorry– because frankly, you know that Huang Renjun doesn’t want your pity. He doesn’t want to hear that you feel sorry for him and what happened, because you’re not friends and you’re not close enough for you to express such feelings towards him. A question arises in the very same essence, though, making you wonder why he even chose to share this information with you in the heat of the moment in the first place, and even though you could excuse his lack of motivation to work on the project by this fact, it still doesn’t change the reality that he was the one initiating the whole thing, and suddenly, you feel confused. 

He invited you over to work on a project, even though his mood was shitty and he didn’t have the motivation to do so. One would find that ridiculous, but if you really look past the sharp eyes and the bleached mess on his head, you could see the true intention behind his actions– the poor boy just wanted a distraction. And with how empty his apartment seems to be right now– his roommate, Donghyuck (a person that Jimin shares a Finance class with, as you learned this very afternoon) is nowhere to be seen– you only bet you were the last option he had instead of wallowing himself in pity and terror. 

Jimin would argue that you’re stupid for your next actions– you would even agree, because this truly doesn’t feel like you– but still, despite going against yourself in a way, you close the laptop sitting in your lap and reach over to the soda he placed in the middle of the coffee table, pouring yourself a glass. You don’t leave his apartment like you fantasized of doing just a few minutes ago; instead, after downing the sickeningly sweet liquid, the bubbles hurting your throat, you rest your back against the sofa and watch the boy in a new light.

“Okay, let’s not work on the assignment, then,” you calmly say, “wanna watch something on Netflix instead?” you ask, seeing him staring at you with confusion in his expression.

“I don’t-”

“It’s okay if you don’t have it, I can log in with my roommate’s account. She’s probably watching Single’s Inferno right now, but I’ll text her to find something better to do instead,” you don’t let him finish his sentence– because you already know that he’d try to protest to your suggestion– shrugging in nonchalance as you reach over to the TV remote you find sandwiched between the sofa cushions.

Turning the TV on, not even sparing a glance to the grumpy-looking boy sitting on the floor opposite of you, the shuffling of clothes and socked-feet on the ground lands into your ears, a figure taking the remote out of your hand when you can’t figure out how the TV works, a low mumble full of fake offendance masking the shameful, yet clear gratitude in his voice.

You don’t miss it as you look over at him with a tight-lipped smile, though, seeing the Netflix app suddenly come up on the TV, his shoulders relaxing as he settles into the cushions of the sickeningly colored sofa. 

“Of course I have Netflix, what do you think I am, poor?” he grunts.

…and the old Renjun is back.

Arriving at class the next week, you’re finally met with less nervousness than the last few times. After interacting with Huang Renjun more and seeing him break his stone-cold demeanor in front of you as you two watched Netflix– he even made popcorn after the second episode of Unsolved mysteries you decided to watch when you saw the show in his ‘continue watching’ list and gushed about how it’s your favorite (to which he told you that you’re weird, but he’s the one binge watching it too, so you really don’t know why you’re the problem and he's not). Thankfully he doesn’t seem as smug and insufferable as he did before. It’s not like you’re suddenly best friends or anything, but you can feel the ice between you melting with every word he sends your way that isn’t laced with irony– not that there's many of them, since Huang Renjun loves his sarcasm– but it’s progress in your book.

Walking over to your usual seat in the classroom, making your backpack fall to the ground next to your desk with a soft thud, you sit at the chair and take out your things for the class when you notice something standing in the way of your notebook and pencil case in the middle of the table. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you move the cup of coffee out of your way, closer to your seatmate’s side. Sighing, you mumble under your breath. “Don’t you have enough space for your things on your side of the table?”

“That’s yours,” he deadpans. Gaze switching between the cup of iced americano from the coffee shop at the corner of the campus (you know it by the plastic cup with their logo on it– it's too tacky for your liking and you even gushed about it to Jimin the day the café opened) and the blonde boy next to you, confusion doesn’t seem to leave your insides as you let out an unfocused hum, showing him that you’re still not following. 

“Do you not like coffee or something?” he hisses, seemingly annoyed at your expression. If you saw yourself in the mirror, maybe you’d understand his frustration– your brows are furrowed and there's a crease in the middle of your forehead from how hard you're racking your brain to come up with answers– but now, you’re just in utter disbelief. Maybe you are a little slow– it’s only 8 in the morning, to your defense– but you really don’t remember bringing coffee to school today. Especially not an iced americano– you don’t like the bitter taste, opting to choose a sweeter drink like a caramel macchiato or the infamous pink drink that Jimin teased you for the last time you got it. So how did this strange cup of coffee end up on your table?

Looking around the space, noticing another half-empty cup of coffee on Renjun’s side of the table, the label on the plastic the same as the cup that was waiting on your side, you finally connect the dots. “Did you get that for me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, not even looking at you as he agrees, taking another sip of his coffee instead. 

Now, you do finally know where the strange cup of coffee came from. Why did Renjun buy you coffee in the first place, though, is still a mystery to you, but you guess with how he’s avoiding your gaze, eyes glued to the white board and an uninterested expression sitting on his face, you think it’s better to not ask him any other follow-up questions. He did something nice for you, and with how your thoughts and rationalization are the only clues you can use in figuring out the reason behind it, you wonder if this was his way of apologizing for being rude to you and thanking you for hanging out with him last week.

“Thanks,” you mumble out instead, smiling at his humming figure that barely acknowledges your spoken gratitude. Taking a sip of the drink, while trying really, really hard not to scowl at the bitter taste, you shift your focus on the class instead, taking notes from time to time. Drinking the coffee as if it was a disgustingly tasting medicine your mother forced you to take when you were little– you hated the taste, but had to get through it anyway– you eventually finish your iced americano somewhere in the middle of the lecture. You feel kind of proud of your acting skills, but there’s also an annoying voice somewhere in the back of your head asking you why you even forced yourself to get through that drink anyway and why is it that you didn’t want to hurt Renjun’s feelings by refusing it in the first place. 

But like anyone in your position would, you shush that voice out of your head.

“Did you finish watching the whole season last week?” you ask instead, suddenly interested in having a conversation with him. After you told Jimin about how your weird hang-out with Renjun went, she practically scolded you for not going home right after he let out the first snarky comment out of his mouth. And maybe she’s right and the whole thing you’re trying to do– but what are you even trying to do in the first place? – makes you seem like you’re out of your mind, but at the end of the day, you did finally progress in watching the TV show after putting it on hold for multiple months because your dear roommate wouldn’t stop begging you to watch all of the seasons of Too hot to handle with you instead, so it’s a win in your book.

“I didn’t,” he replies, his voice quiet enough only for you to hear, not interrupting the rest of the class, “Hyuck, my roommate, didn’t come home until like 11pm and I got too creeped out to watch it alone after you left,” he completes, his face completely serious as he utters out the laughable words.

Chuckling at his response, you see him crack a smile from the corner of your eye. The sight is a rather pleasant one, for you think you've  forgotten how it looks in what seems like ages since the obvious breakup with his girlfriend happened, the reminder of his squinted eyes and full cheeks making you feel accomplished, in a way. “Didn’t think you were the type to get scared so easily,” you tease him.

“Not scared,” he huffs out, offended, “just creeped out. That’s different.”

“Did you wait for your roommate because you were too scared to go to sleep?” you test the waters with more teasing, your tone light and playful.

“No, I waited for him because the last time he got home late and I was asleep, he came home drunk and broke down the door to his room and we had to get it replaced,” he announces, making you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand as you almost burst out into a loud giggle. 

“You know what? Yeah. Valid.”

Your conversation falls silent after that, and it makes your spirit fall for a split second. You don’t even know why you wanted it to continue– you don’t know your seatmate, and frankly, you shouldn’t have the desire to do so in the first place. But the sudden act of service thrown your way, although the coffee was disgusting and he could’ve presented the gift to you in a different, more welcoming way, made you get your hopes up– about what exactly, though? 

Jimin always told you that desperately wanting to be everyone’s friend (despite being socially awkward and kind of nervous around new people), is one of your best and worst qualities at the same time. Best, because it means that you’re nice to people– worst, because you’re nice even to people that don’t deserve your kindness; and you also get too disappointed when people don’t share the same enthusiasm with you. Maybe some friendships are meant to keep at surface level, and if this was the type of relationship you and your project partner are about to have, you’re going to have to let go of that annoying voice in your head that keeps telling you to get deeper than that level.

“Why did you dye your hair, by the way?” you ask him nonetheless, after a few heartbeats of silence, curiosity getting the best of you. The moment this question leaves your mouth, you regret it– thinking you somehow could’ve made the boy uncomfortable, your words annoying to his ears– but instead of rolling his eyes at you or telling you to shut up, he replies instead. The reaction surprises you– he really conditioned you to think that every question of yours is going to be met with spite and tantrum, didn't he?

“Dunno,” he says, shrugging, “they say blondes have more fun, so I think it’s only natural to go blonde when you’re sad. To cancel it out, or something,” he snickers as he looks at you, realizing the implication of his words makes the whole statement kind of embarrassing, his tight-lipped smile being the proof of his internal battle not to cringe at his explanation.

You understand, humming in acknowledgment. You’re just a simple woman, after all– you very well understand the urge to change your hair after a breakup. While it is a visible proof of his mental breakdown, you guess you can’t really blame him for trying to feel like there are things that are under his control; even if it’s just the color of his hair.

Walking along Renjun, the atmosphere is thick and a little awkward. Your bag is heavy on your back and you’re slowly starting to feel a bit of an ugly sting in your bones from it; you mourn the fact that you decided to ask Renjun to walk there with you instead of having to take the bus by yourself, too afraid of getting the address wrong and getting lost along the way. You’d love any kind of transport instead of your own two legs right now, since the walk seems to be never ending and you’re pretty certain that the backs of your feet have calluses from wearing your new shoes that you got from a clearance sale from the Nike store at the corner of the town. 

Clearing your throat, you decide to spark up a conversation. It seems like you always have to be the one to initiate things when it comes to Renjun– it’s kind of ironic, though, when you think of the fact that he was the one that made you be his project partner in the first place.“Why did you wanna do the article about the shelter? I didn’t know you were an animal person,” you hum, testing the waters with a casual question. 

Looking up at you, furrowing his brows, the man offers you an indifferent shrug. “My friend Taeyong works there and he wanted to advertise the shelter a little, so I offered to take pictures for his Facebook page in exchange for me writing the article about it,” he mumbles, “he thinks that would give the shelter more exposure too, but I doubt it. Nobody’s gonna read our fake magazine anyway, it’s just an assignment…”

Humming, you kick the rocks on the pavement, a tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. Huang Renjun must do a lot for his friends, you think. You remember him taking pictures for his friend Xiaoting once– she’s an influencer (a model, if you want) and well known around the campus. When you saw his instagram username in one of the picture descriptions one day, you were surprised at the quality of those shoots (and it also led you to stalking his instagram for a bit, but that’s not the main point of this conversation). You also remember seeing him with his friends Shotaro and Yangyang in a team when it was your school’s annual Sports day (you’d argue that you’re not high schoolers anymore and this day is useless, but your classmates seem to think otherwise) trying his best, despite not really liking sports in the first place– or so you heard and seen from how badly he did in most disciplines except from running– and if that’s not a sign of him doing everything he could just to make his friends happy, you don’t know what is. So to see him doing an article about the animal shelter Taeyong works at, despite being more of a plant person himself, you’re not as surprised as you thought you’d be. He does show affection to his friends, after all– you’re just not one of them to see that side of him often.

Walking some more, you eventually end up in front of a big building painted a light tangerine color, windows decorated with pretty curtains on full display to you. Renjun chimes in like a regular, crossing multiple halls and taking sharp turns before you’re met with the image of a taller man with dark brown hair putting small, pastel colored collars on necks of a few little creatures running around the room, despair clearly written on his face.

“No! Don’t run away, oh god-”

Chuckling at the view of yet another kitten running away from his hands, you admire the fluffy little cats crawling all around the place, your heart quickly softening at the sight of them. It’s been a while since you were around animals yourself– the dog you had back home died the summer before the semester started and you weren’t really in the mood to get a new one, since you weren’t going to be around much anyway. 

When yet another kitten escapes the man’s hold, you find yourself watching Renjun as he crouches to the floor and swiftly takes one into his hands, walking closer to the man with collars in his hands, grinning to himself. “Here you go.”

“Man, the cats hate me… where did you two get here?” he shakes his head in disbelief, putting a collar onto the small cat before he pets it on its tiny head.

“Just a minute ago,” Renjun says, “is that one Poppy?” he asks, reading the name tag dangling from the little band around its head, affection filling his words.

“Now it is. I got confused when they all started running around,” he shrugs, sighing as he looks around the room, counting the last few kittens that needed their collars. His eyes soon land on you, a welcoming smile spreading on his boxy lips. “Hey! I’m Taeyong. You must be Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, trying to make yourself seem as nice as possible. You don’t know what Renjun told him about you, but if they were bad things, you only hope to undeceive the man with your warm attitude. 

Renjun then puts the kitten down, and while you’d expect it to run away from him and join its siblings in the corner of the room, the creature does quite the opposite– it stays by his side and lays on the ground close to him, making even Taeyong himself gasp at the image. “Wow,” he snickers, “you should start coming here every time I need to put these on them, you’re like a cat whisperer.”

While the two of them chat, you stay a little behind, not really wanting to intrude. You take off the heavy bag and take out your camera, deciding to take a few pictures of the shelter instead, so you can say you worked on the interview with him. You think it’s expected of you, since he asked you to come along despite being absolutely fully capable of doing the interview with his friend alone, so you do your work and zoom in on the two of them talking, snapping a few quick pictures. 

After a while, you take a seat on the ground– being the infamous enjoyer of sitting on the hard surface of it, earning yourself a lot of scolding screams from your mother growing up– and fully take in the interior. The walls are the same light tangerine color as the outside ones, and there’s a little enclosure in the corner of the room that would surely make Taeyong’s job much easier if only he had used it. There are bags of cat food in the other corner of the room, and while the shelter doesn’t look very modern or fancy, you think it’s kinda homey and welcoming. You bet kids would love it here– with the colorful atmosphere and the smiley worker running around catching kittens, and after a while of taking pictures of everything your eyes land on, you find your inner child healing, little by little.

The truth is, you always wanted a cat. But you were never able to get one, because your mother hates them. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you petted strays on the street and begged her to take them home, you never won this battle– so you had to settle on a dog. And don’t get me wrong, you loved your dog, but at the end of the day, you knew you were more of a cat person anyway.

Reaching forward a little, noticing the kitten waddling your way, you think of petting it– it quickly jumps out of your reach, though, too scared of your touch, and you’re left frowning, the bubble bursts at the rejection from the small ball of fluffiness.

“Taeyong?” you hear a voice of a woman call from the door, the man swiftly turning to her with brows raised in question. “They need your help with the big dogs. They keep dragging Yeri on the leash and she’s too weak to get them to their cages.”

“Oh,” the man deadpans, scratching his neck for a bit before he turns to Renjun again, escaping the room in one swift motion, “I’ll be right back!”

The room falls silent after that, no longer having the background noise of their conversation playing as you observe the animals. You feel the atmosphere growing thicker again, and as time passes by, you find yourself taking short glances at your project partner, wondering what’s on his mind. One moment, he’s crouching down and petting the cats that come his way, the other, he is gazing out of the window with a soft frown that takes over his features like a dark shadow, and you wonder when this expression really settled into his face and made itself the default, and why is it not willing to leave. Not really knowing what to say or what to do to make the boy that’s still so out of your reach feel any better, you opt for silence, even though it does get quite heavy and thick over time– and the truth is, you don’t even know why you notice yourself feeling this way so often around him, when all he’s done was give you the cold shoulder so often and then offer you an iced americano you don’t even like in the first place.

Minutes pass and the silence slowly makes your ears ring; you desperately try to find a good solution in your brain– create a script where hanging out with Renjun is easier and less nerve-wrecking– but still, there’s nothing and you’re left with the awkwardness and hesitance. Sighing when another kitten escapes your grasp, you put your hands into your lap and give up on the task, settling on just watching them instead– there was no use in you trying to pet one when all it wanted to do was run away from you.

Watching the group of fluff jumping at each other and sleeping all around the room, your focus only shifts when there’s a kitten suddenly thrusted into your point of view, its big blue eyes staring you down making you awe. You wonder how it got there in a moment of full stupidity before you look up and see your project partner, the cat magnet himself, holding the cat up to you, waiting for you to take it into your hold and pet it. Gazing at him with mouth agape in confusion, he slowly puts the cat into your lap, petting the creature when it settles, and takes a seat opposite of you all in the span of a few seconds, the action making you smile uncontrollably.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” he mumbles, watching as you pet the kitten in your lap, cooing at the soft fur. There’s a hint of you that desperately wants to adopt it once you finally pet the small cat, but you know that it wouldn’t be a smart idea– animals are banned at dorms and you don’t think you’d have enough energy to take care of another living creature right now anyways.

“They are,” you hum, “I always wanted one.”

“Why didn’t you get one, then?”

“My mum doesn’t like them very much,” you mumble, pouting at the small creature in your hold, as if to apologize for the words coming out of your mouth.

He hums in acknowledgement, picking up another kitten that waddles his way, putting it up on his thigh– his body now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Watching as the animal crawls up his body and tickles him with its claws, soft laughter erupts out of him, making you smile unconsciously at the boy. 

“I’m not really into animals that much,” he says, further proving your earlier claims. See– in some ways, Renjun is easy to read. Just by looking at him, you could tell he’s not a fan of sweet beverages; you can tell he enjoys black coffee– just like the one he brought you that day– and herbal teas, perfectly matching the image of him in your head that’s surrounded by plants rather than animals, just the bit of greenery you saw around the kitchen very clearly still alive and thriving making you believe you are correct in this assumption as well. One can say a lot about a person by the way they dress, and with Renjun’s casual, yet cozy attire, you can tell he dresses for himself, choosing comfort over style, but still looking effortlessly put together at the same time. You would never strike him as someone that makes spontaneous decisions, rather being more focused on a plan, so to see him dye his hair so randomly is a sign of the fact that there’s something crumbling inside of him– a sense of security, maybe a feeling of stableness– that he tries so hard to grasp. 

“They are into you, though,” you giggle when the kitten purrs at his touch, pointing at the cross-eyed creature. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs, “I guess I’m that irresistible.”

There aren’t many opportunities for you to laugh at his jokes. Mainly because he doesn’t make many, but also because you always notice them being self-deprecating, and you don’t want to support that idea in his head. At this one, though, you send him a soft chuckle and a roll your eyes, showing how you seemingly think the idea is ridiculous and his joke is corny, but deep inside knowing that you resonate with his words.

In a moment of selfishness– an indulgence you try to mask by the fact that you came here because of the assignment and this was your job in the first place– you take your camera and snap a picture of the boy in front of you, his hands holding the small kitten up in air and snickering when he sees you pointing the lens to him in order to capture him playing with the creature. You don’t know what it is that makes your heart warm up at the image that comes up on the screen shortly after, but you figure that’s a problem of future you and there’s no use in pondering about it now.

You don’t know how many minutes pass with just the two of you playing with the kittens, but when Renjun takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, you furrow your brows before he hums. “He’s taking so much time,” he says, sighing. 

All while playing with the fuzzy small balls, you didn’t even notice the time passing by so quickly. You don’t know how much time it’s been, but you assume it could be more than 35 minutes of the two of you left alone in the room, Taeyong seemingly too overwhelmed with the shelter responsibilities.

“Maybe we should go,” he offers, catching you off guard.

“Oh,” you hum, “well, maybe. But you haven’t even done an interview with him yet,” you mumble, your hands lost in the soft fur of the kitten still laying in your lap.

“I can just send him the questions to his email. Perhaps, I’m sure you’ve taken more than enough pictures of the kittens for his Facebook page,” he snickers, shrugging, “I don’t see why we should be staying here if he’s busy, we’re only putting more work on him.”

“I- I mean…” you mumble, trailing off at the end. You don’t really wanna say goodbye to the kittens, the healing in your heart not quite done yet, when the boy next to you laughs at what you presume is your emotions showing clearly on your face.

“Unless you wanna play with them more, of course. We can stay a little longer, then.”

The autumn season slowly fades into winter, time passing by quicker than you could even grasp. The shock and surprise of having to work on the lengthy project with Renjun morphs into a feeling of ordinarity, getting used to his mood slowly shifting from reserved and irritated to a one more pleasant, full of hesitant smiles and soft words when he notices you feeling down or disappointed with yourself, and a one more close to a brother-like teasing when he watches you arrive to his apartment to work on things. One would say you hit it off, your energies matching as you slowly get to know the boy, but still, there’s a hint of something inside of you that makes you grow nervous around him whenever he is too close to your figure, your body falling limp and your brain working on overdrive. You wonder if it’s the sheer fact of simply not being fully used to his presence; while Jimin says you’re down bad for the man. She’s wrong– or at least you’re convinced that she is– and that’s why you simply think the uncertain feeling of uneasiness that settles in your bones sometimes is the effect of the fact that you never truly know what to expect when you arrive at Renjun’s place.

Some days, when you arrive, there’s a mess waiting for you in the living room, where you usually work on the project with Renjun. There are pots and pans with dried food everywhere and your partner’s hands are foaming with washing liquid when he opens the door for you, and you giggle at the sight. Other days, the apartment is full of people you don’t know and Renjun has to throw them out with a scream saying that the group was supposed to leave two hours ago, and when you come on weekends, he lets you in wearing sweatpants and bed hair, as if he spent the whole day in his sheets. Dare you say, this is your favorite version of him– his eyes are half-lidded and he moves slowly, even his remarks aren’t as harsh as they tend to get. Jimin once argued and told you that you two don’t even need to meet that often for the sake of the project– and on a weekend as well– but you’d say it adds to the value of the magazine if you two can get opinions out of each other and review each other’s writing in real time. 

Some days, his roommate is home, and that’s when you join Renjun in his room so you two get a bit of privacy (not that you’re doing anything that requires privacy. His roommate Donghyuck is just very nosy and he keeps asking you questions you don’t have the time and energy to answer). 

Today is one of these days, with his energetic roommate roaming the halls of the apartment, but this time, you two don’t hide away in the comfort of Renjun’s small, yet very organized room. Sitting in the living room of his and Hyuck’s shared apartment, your bottom meeting the carpeted floor instead of the cushions of their couch, your laptop screen darkening when you don’t work on the device for some time and it puts itself to sleep mode. The reason for said action is your attention being somewhere completely else– on Donghyuck’s figure trailing in and out of the room, each time wearing a different outfit than before.

“What about this one, Y/N? Do I look good?” he asks, posing like a model that didn’t pass an audition in any modeling agency, their dream of flashing a smile on the title pages of Vogue fading out of their sight.

You burst out laughing at the weird combination. You don’t remember Donghyuck ever being bad at fashion from the few times you've met him before he left their apartment to attend a party or go to class– you’re quite certain that his habit to always tuck in his shirts into his skinny jeans, the stylistic choice showcasing his long legs making not one, but many girls, boys and others salivate over him. But when seeing him in a tragic combination of cowboy boots and a cow-print shirt, you can’t help but giggle.

“Hyuck, now you’re just taking the shit. That’s your Halloween costume from last year,” the boy next to you on the ground whines, running his hands through his hair in despair.

“Okay, but what if I really want to wear it?” he asks all innocent, his roommate now faking a cry in response, “besides, I was asking Y/N, so you shut your mouth.”

“I think it’s great,” you nod, wiping the corner of your eyes from the stray tears that fall off from the laughter you’ve been doing at the interaction. Your assignment was long forgotten the first moment Donghyuck decided to pay you a visit in the living room, starting with shitting on his professor for making him study on a weekend (which you argued that he could’ve started with earlier in the week, to which he glared at you and asked if he looks like a nerd), and then proceeding to do everything but study– starting with making a smoothie in the living room– while efficiently making so much noise with the mixer every time Renjun spoke up, annoying the short male– to giving you a make-shift fashion show.

“Do you want me to embarrass myself? See, I wore this to test if you were being genuine, but I see now that you’re on Renjun’s side,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief and escaping the living room, making you burst out laughing even more as you hear the door to his room shut with a loud thud.

He’ll come back soon– you’re sure of it.

And you’re right. After Renjun manages to let out a loud noise of despair at the fact that he has to live with someone like Lee Donghyuck– not only now, he complains about it every other day, when the latter drags him to parties only for him to be the designated driver for the night and get him home safely, or how he makes him pay for dinner he orders for the both of them without asking– the other man joins you in the living room again, now dressed casually in sweatpants and a loose shirt.

“Okay, the fashion show’s over. I think I’ll go with the first outfit, just by the way, because it matches my eyes,” he says, quite seriously, to which Renjun only sighs.

“Hyuck, your eyes are brown.”

“Okay and?”

“That what you wore was– you know what, never mind…” Renjun shakes his head as he stops himself mid-sentence, making you snicker at the mental image of the outfit Donghyuck’s talking about, because frankly, Renjun is right with his frustration. The shirt his roommate wore was blue, and while it didn’t clash in the slightest, it surely didn’t match the brown depth of Donghyuck’s orbs, and that’s what makes the whole thing that much funnier.

Turning your head around to watch Renjun’s roommate moving through the kitchen area, opening up the fridge and pouring himself a glass of milk– you don’t even dare to question him anymore– you ask. “What is the occasion anyway?”

“Jisung’s birthday party,” he mumbles, taking a sip, “you know Park Jisung, right?”

“Never heard of him,” you shake your head, seeing as the man widens his eyes at you with surprise.

“No? Well, you’re gonna get to know him soon, then,” he says, shrugging.

“That sounds like a threat,” you giggle, “what do you even mean?”

To that, Donghyuck shifts his eyes to his roommate sitting next to you on the ground, shrugging. “Well, I assumed you were invited…” he says, grinning to himself.

The man next to you audibly sighs– what is the reason behind his frustration this time, you truly do not know, but with Renjun, there’s always something getting on his nerves. He has a problem with having his anger in control sometimes.

Furrowing your eyebrows at the proposition, you shake your head. “Why would I be invited to Park Jisung’s birthday party?”

“Because it’s quite the event! Park Jisung’s turning into an adult, and to that, he’s throwing a big party, which means friends of friends of friends are invited,” he says, as if it was the most matter-of-fact information you’ve ever heard, “and since you’re a friend of a friend, I’d assume you get a pass.”

Shrugging, you mutter. “Well, I wasn’t invited,” you add, not paying the whole party much thought. 

The man squints his eyes at the two of you, eyes drifting from one figure to the other, humming to himself as if he was lost in thought. “Okay, then…” he mysteriously mumbles under his breath before downing the glass and putting it into the sink, completing his visit by exiting the living room.

“Would you come back and wash your dishes after yourself?” Renjun yells into the depths of the apartment, a sneaky remark being thrown his way almost immediately.

“No, thank you!”

And after watching the interaction, you come to the conclusion that if you were living with Lee Donghyuck, you'd turn kind of crazy too. You can’t even blame Renjun anymore. Truth be told, though, you didn’t get much work done that Saturday, and you think his sheer presence might be the reason why.

“What do you think?” you ask, turning your laptop towards Renjun, the two of you currently sitting in the library, working on your project. Originally, you had planned to go to your place– but Jimin texted you last second that she has a guy over, and Renjun said his roommate has a gathering of some sort at his apartment, so you settled on the comfort and silence your university library provides. Not a lot of people are here during this time of the year; the exam season isn’t that close yet and no one’s panicking about last-minute studying, so only a few responsible students are currently scattered across the spacious room on the second floor, working on their essays. You bet they’re humanities students– they always have the most shit to do when it comes to essays. You study Journalism, but your roommate is a Sociology major, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone write as many essays as Jimin in a single semester.

What you’re showing Renjun is an opened Microsoft Publisher document, your shared magazine shining from the blue light of the screen. Renjun sent you his copy of the pages he’s done with the animal shelter interview, and as you were looking at the columns of text and off-centered pictures, the perfectionist in you woke up and forced you to fix the tiny mistakes that didn’t escape your eye.

“It’s different,” he hums, eyebrows furrowing as he examines the two-page spread, resting his head on his hand, plopped up on his elbow, and pushing his rimmed glasses further up his nose bridge. “Did you change anything?”

“I just… played around with it a little,” you mumble, afraid of what he thinks. As far as you know, he could flip out any second and scream at you for doing his work when it was perfectly fine the way he sent it to you– at least the Huang Renjun you met a few weeks ago would certainly do that– and so you don’t think it’s that unexpected of you to be so nervous about his opinion.

“This picture wasn’t here before,” he says, pointing to one of the pictures you neatly slotted into the corner of the page– it was one of your favorites, you must admit with severe embarrassment– with Renjun holding up a baby kitten, looking at it with softened eyes. When you looked at the page spread he sent you the other day, you couldn’t believe he didn’t add that picture. Something about it being your favorite– finding yourself admiring it when you look through the pictures on your camera’s SD card– was enough to make you think it’s surely his favorite as well. It didn’t matter that it didn’t really fit the professional aura the whole spread radiates. For you, the magazine wasn’t complete without including it– think of that what you will.

“It was asymmetrical without it, so I had to add it…” you say, scratching the back of your neck. That’s a partial lie– you could make it work if you moved the pictures around a little bit, but Renjun doesn’t have to know that.

He hums, eyes scanning over the text, shrugging. “It’s nice. As long as you didn’t change the text part, I don’t mind,” he says, relief making your shoulders slouch down, not even noticing how tense you’ve become, “I actually got bored while working on this, so I get that it didn’t really look nice before. Thanks,” he completes, offering you a soft smile as he takes a sip of the black americano sitting on the desk.

“Good,” you nod, shaking off the nervousness from before, “okay.”

Scrolling through the document, moving a few things around, adding better punctuation here and there, the number of pages is still not hitting the criteria for your final grade. That’s okay– you still have a lot of time to complete the magazine and you still have plenty of ideas. To execute them is another thing, but you’re sure you’ll find a way.

“What about your interview?” Renjun suddenly asks, almost making you jump up from the surprise that is created by his voice suddenly cutting through the silence of the library.

“What about it?” you hum, looking at him. His hair is a little tousled– he’s been putting in way less work than you today, laying on the table occasionally when you don’t show him anything on your laptop for a while, acting more as your company than a help. It looks like the coffee on his table is the only thing keeping him awake, and you suddenly feel a little bad for insisting on working on the project even though your initial plans of doing it at your place fell through, because he seems to be exhausted.

“Well, I did the shelter, so you should do something too,” he says, shrugging, “or do something similar, you know… I think it would be nice to have you write about something from a reporter's perspective.”

“Oh,” you nod, “well, I dunno… I had a few ideas, but it’s…”

“Hm?” he motions for you to talk when your voice drifts out, eyes looking at you with patience and genuine interest. The change of demeanor that’s been happening with him lately slightly shocks you, but you welcome the new character in him with open arms. Still, it doesn’t mean you don’t get a little hesitant around him whenever he shows you this side of him– you don’t really know how to react, or what to expect of him anymore. It’s like walking on eggshells, but you can’t say you hate the strange anticipation.

“Well, it’s stupid, but…” you start, seeing him roll his eyes at the beginning of your proposition, “my favorite writer is doing some sort of a fan sign slash q&a thing in the local library next week. She’s coming out with a new book, and I think it would be nice to get an interview with her, but she’s probably very busy and everything, so that won’t work out.”

Looking at Renjun, feeling shy of the sudden revelation of hopes and dreams, you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation. The range of answers he could give you is truly big– he could laugh at you, tell you to go alone, or he could tell you that it’s a stupid idea, a boring one, even, or he could be supportive– the least likely response, you think. Sharing your idea with him makes you a little hesitant again, feeling a little naked in front of him, and you even avert your gaze towards your laptop and aimlessly scroll through the document to avoid his gaze, to seem more nonchalant and not at all bothered by his lack of words, when he gives you a tired hum.

“Well, you could at least do an article about the library, then. To advertise sustainability, and all… And kids these days don’t read much, so I think it’s nice to talk about it,” he says, once again folding over the table and burrowing his face in the space between his folded arms and his chest, half sitting, half laying down on the furniture, “wanna go next week? Maybe we can catch that writer of yours.”

Allowing yourself to look at him, relief once again washing over you at the acceptance, you can’t help but smile at his slurred words of affirmation. “I mean, I’m down…”

Doubting you could get the interview– not even trying to reach out to the writer, already setting yourself up for the expected failure– you make plans to visit the library the said day with Renjun anyway. You’ll get your camera and maybe get some nice shots, maybe ask around for an interview from one of the nice, old librarians instead. It’s not a bad idea, and it fits the vibe of your magazine quite nicely.

Who knows, maybe you could even get your book signed. Doesn’t hurt to try.

You think it was safe to say that you didn’t expect to see a text message pop up on the screen of your phone one afternoon, the black letters shining darkly on the bright screen with a hesitant, yet a little hurried invitation to Park Jisung’s birthday party. The whole interaction you had about it with Renjun and Hyuck was awkward, and so to see getting an invitation for yourself the day of the said event was a shocking concept, leaving you scrambling your things from various places of your apartment and putting them into a handbag before getting dressed for the occasion. 

Quickly learning that Lee Donghyuck is a man of his word– meaning that he never lies, especially when it comes to big parties– your mouth hangs open when you arrive to the address Renjun texted you in the afternoon, the big mension-like building full of people you’ve never seen before, leaving you to acknowledge that friends of friends of friends must have been invited to fill up the whole place, since it’s not possible for poor Park Jisung to know everyone at his birthday party. The fact makes you feel less special; the invitation not really making you feel like you were wanted there, the place breaking in its seams making you internalize a thought that you were there just to fill up the blank spaces and Renjun invited you only for the sheer fact of needing a lot of people for his friend’s party. A little disappointed, yet, still kind of amazed at the size of it all, you walk out of Jimin’s car– she offered to drive you there– and hesitantly set your foot to the  grass that divides the land from the sidewalk. 

Feeling a little lost, turning your head in various directions to try to find anyone you’d know– Huang Renjun being the best alternative, since he was the one who invited you, after all– you start to feel a little out of place when no one pays you any attention and the loud music filling your ears only acts as a distraction that slowly makes you oversaturated with stimulus. Just when you go to take your phone out of your bag to call either Renjun or your roommate to come back to pick you up and drive you to the safety of your apartment, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you turn around in your tracks, a strange sense of comfort enveloping your insides when you see the short blonde peeking at you from under his carelessly styled bangs, a grin sitting on his face. “You’re here!”

“Yeah. I told you I’d come…?” you mumble, observing Renjun’s sudden enthusiasm at your arrival, letting the man drag you inside of the building. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel all the eyes of the guests on you. While you were a stranger to all of them, you are almost certain the popular Huang Renjun was one of the more known people of the bunch, catching attention of multiple friends of his and also friends of their friends, and suddenly, the feeling of his touch on your wrist as he drags you inside makes your skin burn, your brain almost overheating when you realize this might as well be the first time you’ve had any sort of physical contact with the male. Fixing your gaze on his back, enveloped in an oversized leather jacket, you start to wonder if he’s drunk.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, finally turning back to you when you arrive in the spacious kitchen. You wonder if this house is rented, or if Park Jisung’s one of the wealthy kids in the town. You truly have no knowledge on the man, and when you hesitantly look around the room, trying to sort out what alcohol they have in store– while mentally thinking of what would make you the least hammered, considering your low alcohol tolerance– you feel Renjun’s eyes glued to you, heat inevitably rising to your cheeks. “What’s that in your hand?” he asks, making you jump out of your haze.

“Oh,” you stutter, “I brought a birthday gift for Jisung,” you mumble, seeing Renjun’s glossy eyes blink at you a few times, his lips suddenly twitching up in amusement. In this moment, you think he truly must be drunk, his fingers reaching towards the gift bag in your left hand as he peeks inside, noticing the handwritten card and a box of chocolates you brought to the boy you’ve never seen before. Your project partner cracks up as he puts the bag away to the corner of the room.

“You’re too sweet for this world,” Renjun giggles as he looks back at you, making you widen your eyes in surprise at the affectionate words falling off his tongue.

“Why?”

“Nobody actually expected you to bring a gift, you know,” he says as he walks through the half-empty kitchen, eyes roaming over the solo cups filled with alcohol, “you don’t even know him. Half the people here don’t know him and I’m pretty sure half of his actual friend group didn’t give him anything.”

“Oh,” you blink, suddenly feeling stupid. “Well, I didn’t want to seem rude…” you sheepishly mumble, scratching the back of your neck in hesitance. Maybe you did go a little overboard– nobody can really blame you, though. You’re not a big party goer, and since it’s someone’s birthday, you only assumed it’s socially expected of you to bring a gift. And it’s Renjun’s friend, on top of that– one would say you wanted to give off a good impression, as his plus-one to the party, whatever that means. If you were considered that, to be exact– with the amount of people here, though, you were starting to feel a little lost in the situation.

“See, you’re too sweet,” he says, shrugging,  eyes still fixated on the kitchen counter as he seemingly searches for a specific drink. Arm motioning towards one of the red solo cups, he suddenly turns to you and offers you the contents, smiling. “He loves chocolate, though, so that gift’s gonna be his favorite. Well, if it even gets to him in this whole mess… rum and coke?” he asks, and without much thought, you eagerly take the cup from his hand, nodding.

“Thanks,” you say, tasting the alcohol on your tongue. You don’t tell him that rum and coke is your biggest enemy– not because it tastes bad, quite the opposite, actually. You enjoy the mixture too much for you to control yourself sometimes. You can only pray that you don’t get too loose tonight.

The man’s eyes stay strangely glued to your figure as you sip from the cup, and you almost open your mouth to tease him about it– or ask if there’s something on your face, either or– when there’s a chant coming out of one of the rooms outside, incoherent screams slowly forming into one recognisable word– a name, to be exact– the voices calling Park Jisung, tonight’s birthday boy. Renjun’s eyes widen at that, his body moving fast as he tugs you by your hand again, almost spilling your drink in the process, your figure suddenly standing in a living room seemingly bigger than your whole apartment, the sight in front of you making you laugh.

A tall, lanky boy is thrown up in the air by the arms of multiple men– one of which you recognise to be Hyuck– as the whole room chants Jisung's name, the sight  a little comedic in your eyes. Rose tint settles on Park Jisung's face as the whistling only gets louder, a few phones with the flash turned on pointed to his face, the moment captured in time. You wonder what the boy did in his life to get this amount of popularity, but you can only imagine that, as one would say, this could very well be a core memory for him. You only turn adult once in your life, and for some reason, the thought of Park Jisung doing so surrounded by his friends that threw him perhaps the biggest birthday party in the history of your university campus, you get a little emotional for him. Maybe Renjun was right with you being too sweet for this world– in this moment, though, you think you’re too soft instead.

After a while, the men get tired of holding up his weight and the boy slowly comes down from the high, the hollering getting more quiet as it turns into the birthday song, making you join in with the singing. The thought of being an outcast, just a random person in the crowd slowly seeps away when you feel included in the moment, worry leaving you as you watch Donghyuck– the biggest hype man of his friends, or so it seems– shake the birthday boy vigorously by his shoulders before he lets go and plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek, which leads to the two of them chasing each other around the crowded place.

Watching the whole scene unfold right in front of your eyes, you find yourself gazing at Renjun from the corner of your eye, the bright grin on his face making your heart squeeze in a weird way. He seems so happy in this moment, dragging you from room to room excitedly as if he was a regular in this place, the joy of celebrating his friend making his flushed face glow in a healthy way. You got used to seeing his face clouded in a shadow; the worried crease in between his eyebrows and the darkness under his eyes regular visitors in his expression, so to see him seep in the ugly orange lights of the luxurious house tugs at your heartstrings in a way you choose to not recognize or name. 

“Y/N!” you hear your name screamed from somewhere in the room, making you tear your eyes away from the man standing by your side. Looking at the source of the yell, you find Lee Donghyuck striding towards you with his long legs, the action almost threatening, yet, his face beams in an excited aura.

“Hyuck!”

“You came!” he yells back in the same energy as last time, although his body is now only a few steps away from you, making you giggle. You recognise his outfit to be one of the multiple he showed you back at their apartment before he started acting all silly, the memory making you laugh in fondness.

“I did!” you nod, “I got invited,” you say, voice almost sounding proud of the achievement. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says as his eyes drift from you to Renjun, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively before he earns himself a punch to the shoulder from his roommate, a sharp, over-exaggerated scowl escaping his lips at the motion. “Come meet Jisung!” he quickly switches up the topic, dragging you along with himself like a rag doll in an instance. He must be drunk; you think. 

You wonder why you keep being dragged around the house– maybe it’s a sign that you’re too weak and should probably start working out more so you can stand your ground. Nonetheless, you follow the man as you look around, as if to apologize to Renjun for leaving him, when you see the blonde following you to the small group in the corner of the living room, recognising them to be the ones holding up Jisung just a few minutes prior. 

“Jisung! This is Y/N!” Donghyuck utters out as soon as you get to the small gathering, all eyes suddenly glued to you. You wouldn’t say it made you feel comfortable or even invited– quite the opposite, to be honest– but the man that was addressed cutely turns to you, a shy smile plastered on his face when he greets you.

“Ah! Hello!”

You doubt Park Jisung even knows who you are. You doubt any of these people do– with how they’re looking at you in examination, but you still bite through it as you force a smile on your face. “Happy birthday,” you say to him, earning yourself a bright smile from the recipient.

“Thanks!” he beams. “You’re Renjun hyung’s friend, right?” he asks  in response, almost making you choke on your spit in surprise at the fact that the boy knows who you are, which leads you to believe that you were talked about in this circle before.

“Sort of,” you nod, forcing out a giggle.

“Sort of?” the annoyed voice of Huang Renjun himself fills your ears from your right, making you jump up at the proximity of him that you weren’t aware of before, the mock offense on his face making you giggle when you think of the remorse he treated you with when you first met. He looked like he never wanted to speak to you in his life, and now he’s acting offended at you not fully calling him your friend? Yes, you did that to spite him– because if you weren’t friends, you truly don’t know what you were even doing here in the first place– but you still think the whole thing is a little ironic. “You’re at our house at least once a week and we’re not friends in your eyes?” 

“Well, that’s only because I have to,” you argue, when the man only shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“Okay, you’re not allowed to eat our snacks when you come over anymore,” he says, shrugging in nonchalance. Laughing, you find yourself looking over the group you’re standing with, the discomfort slowly fading away when you engage in conversation with Renjun. You catch a few names you can’t really place to their respective faces– mainly because Jisung was the only one formally introduced to you– when you notice a girl staring at you in examination, her figure not noticed by you before. 

The longer you stare at her, the longer you start to recognise her, and before you let panic overtake you– in all honesty, you don’t even know why you’d panic at this fact– you realize it’s none other than Huh Yunjin, your friend’s ‘cheating ex-girlfriend’ looking at you with something resembling spite in her eyes, her jaw clenched and her look glazing from your outfit to your face, as if mentally scoring you on your attractiveness, judging every detail of your body, all while a tall boy hugs her to his side– whom you presume is her new boyfriend.

He looks nothing like Renjun– he is quite the opposite, if you really think about it– and even though you tear your eyes away from her figure, your brain still screams at you with arguments that you look nothing like her; even though it shouldn’t really matter. You’re not Huang Renjun’s new girlfriend– not even the object of his desire, or the new girl by his side– you’re just his project partner, a classmate he’s grown to calling a friend, but still, you can’t help but notice her radiating beauty, the outshining features on her face and the charismatic aura she radiates– the polar opposite to everything you’d describe yourself as; and the comfort you felt while talking with Renjun’s friends is suddenly swept under the carpet, long forgotten when you still feel her eyes burning through your skull, her gaze making you like an intruder, someone who’s not supposed to be here, someone who doesn’t belong. 

And to make things even worse, you suddenly feel Renjun’s hand around your waist, and when your eyes lock with his you swear you see a hint of understatement in them, something that lets you know that he’s aware of his ex girlfriend’s burning stare; his protective side kicking in, yet still making you question the matter even more.

You bet he did it to soothe you. You can even clearly read his intentions in the warm smile he sends you when he squeezes your side, hugging you closer to himself, but the more you’re aware of his burning palm on your flesh, the more uncertain you become, the less engaged in the conversation you get, and the more uncomfortable you feel under the orange lights of the living room.

“Wanna go outside? I’m pretty sure they have a karaoke machine there, if you wanna play,” you feel Renjun whisper into your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, the hint of vodka in it supporting your earlier claims and that he was at least a little tipsy after all. 

Nonetheless, you nod and find him leading you outside, not before you turn around to look at Yunjin for one last time, though, seeing clear jealousy shading her expression; making you wonder if you were invited just because she was too, and if you just fulfilled your designated role for the night.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, looking at your companion as the two of you sit on the stairs outside of the university building, your bags carelessly placed at your feet. It’s getting quite dark out, the winter days still being insanely short even though it’s the middle of February and spring is slowly approaching the town. The two of you had worked on your assignment in the library before Renjun told you that he has to wait for his friends Jeno and Donghyuck to pick him up, since they are meeting up with their friends from high school, their friend group living out of town requiring the two of them to take a drive there.

“Of course not,” Renjun shakes his head, “I offered to drop you off, so why would I mind?” 

“What about your friends–”

“If they have anything against it, I’ll make sure to choke them, so don’t worry about that,” Renjun softly laughs at his own joke, trying to ease you. Still, there’s something inside of you that makes the atmosphere heavy and thick, having you crack your knuckles as you sit in silence, chewing on your bottom lip from nerves.

“What’s up? You’ve been acting weird lately,” Renjun hums, looking at you from his place on your left. 

You tried hard to mask your hesitance, especially because you think the worries inside of you are stupid, but you can’t help but feel a hint of discomfort whenever you think of Jisung’s birthday party. Sure, you had a great time– his friends were nice to you, Hyuck even dramatically sang a song at the karaoke with you when Renjun got tired, the two of you taking shots together when you were done. You danced with Renjun after, the music keeping you close, and when you got tired, he walked you home. Everything felt normal between you– except from the weird closeness and occasional touches he sent your way– but you presume that was the effect of alcohol, so you didn’t ponder on it that much.

The eyes of his ex girlfriend on you the whole evening is what made you feel a bit itsy about the situation, and even though there was no hint that would further prove your previous claims, you can’t help but think about Huh Yunjin from time to time, and that’s what makes you feel at least a bit awkward about the whole thing.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say, trying to play it off.

“Come on,” Renjun sighs, “tell me. Is it something I did?”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes at his insisting. The shift in dynamic is ironical, to say the least– 4 months ago, he wouldn’t care about what was making you feel so down, he wouldn’t even care about you walking home from university alone in the darkness of the evening hours, but now, the crease between his brows almost makes him look worried about you, and you can’t say you hate it– even though in this moment, you’d rather have him not care at all.

“Okay, so I’ll just play a guessing game, then,” he scoffs, humming, lost in thought. “You’ve been weird since the party. Something happened there?” 

“No,” you disagree, tone of voice almost sounding desperate and harrowing, not really wanting him to keep asking about the reasoning behind your mood.

“Okay, so that’s a yes. Did someone make you feel uncomfortable? Do I need to beat somebody up? Oh god, was it Hyuck? That fucker said something to you, right? I’m gonna lock him out of the apartment, I swear to god–”

“It wasn’t Hyuck,” you giggle at his outrage, deciding to save his roommate’s life.

“It wasn’t?” he asks, seemingly genuinely surprised, expecting his devilish roommate to be the reason behind all the bad things in the world. “Okay, so it must have been me, no? What did I do?” 

Sighing and shaking your head in disbelief at his insistence, you grunt. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jun, can you just stop asking?” you say, the nickname rolling of your tongue automatically, without much thinking. 

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. It does nothing to help you relax or feel better about the situation, but at least you think Renjun finally dropped the topic and won’t ask you about it again. You’d rather have the ground swallow you whole than to admit what’s been bugging you, especially when it’s Renjun himself you’re talking to about the matter.

You were, once again, wrong in your assumptions. Renjun did not drop the topic– no, he just took his sweet time to hit the nail on the head.

“Was it because of Yunjin?” 

The question opens a pit in your stomach, the embarrassment creeping out of your body and making you heat up not helping your case. Hands clammy as you shake your head and gesture, trying to prove your disagreement with the question to the best of your abilities– but only making yourself look stupid and like you’re trying too hard– your words come out weirdly high-pitched, only further proving Renjun’s point.

“No, it– it’s not that, I– I–”

Renjun scoffs at you, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Did she– did she make you feel uncomfortable? I know she’s been staring a lot the whole evening, I’m sorry about that…”

His words do a little to comfort you. You wouldn’t say you were perfectly fine with the fact that he knows that it was his ex girlfriend that’s been on your mind the past few days– because you two aren’t dating, and realistically, this shouldn’t matter to you– but his understanding eyes bearing into yours make you calm down a little when you sigh and avert your gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek before you speak back up again.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I– It was expected, I guess?”

Renjun hums, eyes focusing somewhere into the unknown. Picking at the skin on your cuticles, you think the conversation is over and you’ve done a good job at playing it off, half of your worries now soothed, but Renjun is a man full of surprises, it seems, when he looks at you again, licking his lips in hesitance.

“But that’s not all, is it?” he asks, but he gets no answer from you. It doesn’t matter– your silence is enough of a conformation. “Look, I didn’t… I didn’t invite you to make her jealous, or anything, if that’s what’s running through that brain of yours, okay? I didn’t even know she would be there.”

Blinking a few times at him, not expecting him to read you so well, you let out the breath you didn’t even know you’ve been holding, nodding at his reassuring words. “Oh…”

“I invited you because I thought you’d have fun… and because I kind of wanted you there. And so did Hyuck, actually, he thinks you’re his platonic soulmate, or something–” the man rambles, explaining his intentions to you, the frantic words coming out of his mouth making you giggle. Relief washes over his face at that, noticing the ease in the atmosphere, his hand gently squeezing your knee when your laughs get quiet. “Everything’s good now?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “thanks. It was silly, but– you know,” you shrug, awkwardly grinning to yourself.

“Yeah,” he sighs out, looking back in front of him, the moment of silent sincerity between the two of you having him open up to you, “it wasn’t like that. me and her… it wasn’t quite the same for a while, you know? Like, I knew it was over before it really happened, but nonetheless, I didn’t expect her to… to do what she did to end it.”

You hum, not really knowing what words you could offer him to console him. Not really wanting to ask any more questions, you wait for him to talk by himself, to assure you’re not insensitive or prying too much. You’ll let him tell you how much he wants, and you’ll silently thank him for the trust he has in you when holding up his feelings to you on a silver platter, naked and vulnerable for you to see and examine. 

“It’s like… I wanted to end it, but not with her cheating on me. That– that hurt more than the actual break up, I think. And maybe it shouldn’t matter, because I wasn’t in love with her anymore anyway, but it still… left a scar, I think,” he hums, and by the way he plays with his fingers in his lap, you can tell he didn’t expect himself to open up to you like this– maybe this is the first time he’s even sharing this with anyone, and the urge to protect him and his heart is suddenly stronger than ever before, even though it’s been somewhere there, deep inside of you, all along.

“That’s valid,” you say, “nobody deserves that to happen to them, no matter how your relationship looked at the time. You were still together, and she shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble, hoping to provide comfort to him, but also hoping your words aren’t unwelcome at this very moment.

The blonde looks at you, an appreciative smile appearing on his face. “Thanks,” he says. There’s nothing to thank you for, you think, but perhaps those are the words he needed to hear for a while now. Perhaps your sentences just mended something in him, perhaps you were the voice that finally made him admit that what he’s been feeling about the situation wasn’t stupid or irrational.

In a moment of weakness, a selfish masochism, even, you let out a prying sentence slip out of your lips– a sentence that could hurt you, have you not been prepared for the outcome. And maybe you were going too far, maybe you should’ve stayed quiet, but you can’t turn back time and the words were already spoken. “Do you ever miss her?” 

Renjun thinks for a while– a heartbeat of a second that makes you feel like you’re falling into a deep abyss– before he shakes his head. “Not really. Not her, I don’t miss her. I think that sometimes, I just miss what we had, but… that’s long gone.”

Humming indifferently, you accept his response in a quiet solace. 

You don’t know where this conversation brings you, but you bet it’s a step in some direction.

After a while, with Renjun’s head soundly resting on your shoulder when the silence gets too long, yet a comforting aura still shades the two of you sitting at the stairs, there’s a black Ford Fiesta honking at the parking lot, the two of you jumping to your feet. The boy drags you to the backseat, your bags hitting the floor of the vehicle, as Jeno looks back at you from the front, smiling at you with moon crescents in his eyes.

“Hello!”

“Hi,” you breathe out.

“Is Y/N tagging along?” Hyuck gasps from the passenger’s seat, turning towards you two, a face of a pleasant surprise written all over his face. You know what, maybe Renjun was right and you and his roommate are platonic soulmates of some sort. Or at least that’s how Lee Donghyuck’s been acting ever since the day he met you.

“I’m not,” you giggle, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Jeno, can you drop Y/N off at her apartment?” Renjun hums, and suddenly, the previous worries leave you as soon as the tall man nods and tells you to navigate him to your place. There was no reason why you’d be rejected by Renjun’s friends– for more reasons than one, you just aren’t aware of them yet.

The ride to your apartment is filled with laughter. Squinting at your project partner sitting next to you at the back of the car, you notice that he’s glowing brightly in the reflections of the lampposts shining through the windows of the car, a stolen galaxy swirling in his eyes when your eyes meet when you pay your goodbyes to the guys while getting off at your driveway a few minutes later.

And it’s quite funny. You don’t even live that far.

–

Clapping when your favorite writer completes the little interactive Q&A at the local library on a Monday afternoon– all throughout you didn’t have any courage to ask any questions yourself, even though you had plenty– you stand up from your place at one of the little, lanky folding chairs in the back of the room and smooth your hands over the skirt of your dress, getting the creases out. You’ve learned a lot about the author today– all from how she started writing, what inspired her to write your most favorite novel, and where she finds her inspiration for writing. You have a lot of information, yet, you still bet you could master more questions, if you were to do an interview with her– you wouldn’t even have to try as hard. 

Reading is one of your passions, it’s something that brought you to the love you have for writing, and although you didn’t stick with fiction for long, finding that the world building and creating plot and characters got boring for you after a while, you found your love for writing shining through when you type articles; making sure your headlines are captivating, that your articles are well-structured and bring something new to the table. It’s a completely different branch– some would say a less creative one– but it’s undeniable that the love for it started in you when you first started reading books, when you were little, in the quiet and comfort of your room.

Glancing back at Renjun, the boy follows you like a lost puppy (you bet it’s his first time at the library, despite him owning quite a few books himself– you noticed so while examining his room one time and found classics in his bookshelf), he offers you a soft smile, nudging you to keep walking. There’s a line forming towards the head of the room, where the writer is still sitting, numbers of passionate readers and fans of her work waiting to get their books signed. There’s a little stand in the middle of the far right wall, containing numerous books written by the person currently sitting in the same room, breathing the same air as you two, and you don’t hesitate to buy the latest one, the one you haven’t had the chance to read yet, with the intention of getting it signed.

“Which one’s your favorite?” Renjun asks, standing close to you and pointing towards the stacks of books on the stand.

“That one,” you hum, bringing his attention to the paperback cover at the very corner of the stand, watching as the man takes it into his hands and flips it over, reading through the summary. He looks like one of those Pinterest boards you’d title ‘Dark academia’ with a series of emojis that fit the ‘aesthetic’, with his plaid coat layered on top of a knitted, light brown sweater, the blonde fringe slightly falling into his eyes. 

“I’ll get this one, then,” he looks at one of the ladies behind the stand, smiling at her as he gets his wallet out.

“Don’t you want the latest one?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, smiling at the lady once again when the book is back in his hold, paid for and now in his ownership. His eyes are back at you when he offers you the explanation. “You said you liked this one, so I wanna try it. And you don’t know if the latest one is any good, so at least I’ve heard a good review on this one and don’t have to be afraid of buying a shitty book,” he snickers, making you roll your eyes at the tone of his voice, but still, there’s a little man in your brain screaming at the top of his lungs– screeching, even– at the action, the gears in your brain turning faster and faster as you let yourself indulge and overthink his words. He bought it because it’s your favorite– so he said– and in a split second of delusion, it doesn’t matter to you if it was just because he wanted to be sure the book is good, or if it was just him wanting to read your favorite book as a way of learning more about you.

“As if any of her books could be bad,” you mumble, moving slowly through the line. You’re the last ones waiting for the autograph, and while there’s still a lot of people in front of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the promise of an interaction with the author.

“Well, you can never really know. Everyone has bad days.”

Snickering at his argument, you shake your head in disbelief and move a few steps forward again. You’ve taken a few photographs of the library while you were sitting and listening to the talk; a few of the author– to capture the nice memory– and some of the interior as well, showcasing the numerous shelves filled with books of different genres that the library provides. Still, you take the camera into your hands again, taking a few more– you were sure to get permission from the smiley and welcoming librarians when you arrived– trying to capture the atmosphere and the heartwarming aura of it all. A little selfishly, for your own memory, you turn to your companion and point the lens towards him, seeing as he poses with the book, acting a little silly when you take the picture, and when he breaks into an amused grin after, you take another one– a moment captured in time, his toothy laugh on full display. When you look at the picture again, your heart warms up a little at the image. Maybe you could get it printed out and add it to your memory book alongside the pictures you have from your first university parties and moving into the new apartment with Jimin– just so you have something to look back to.

Soon enough, you reach the front of the room, your bodies only a few steps away from the author. When the last guests in front of you leave, paying their goodbyes, you take a step forward with a little sigh, trying to encourage yourself and also calm down the erratic beating of your heart, ready to face the idol you’ve been looking up to since you were 11. With Renjun on your side, you put on your most picture-worthy smile, clammy hands offering the book to the writer when you reach the long table, choking on your words.

“Hello,” you greet, not really knowing what to say. You would be lying if you said you didn’t rehearse this in your brain seventy different times ever since you talked with Renjun about going to the library last week, trying to make up the perfect scenario and find the best words to use when you finally meet her, but in this very moment, the whole script flies through the window and you’re left silent and hesitant, heat rising to your cheeks when you can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Hello,” you hear Renjun greet shortly after you, bumping into you a little with his hip when he stumbles to the table, seemingly more calm than you, trying to save the day, “my name’s Huang Renjun,” he says, and you want to kick him in his shin– because who even does that? Who tells their full name to a stranger, an author he’s never heard of before actually attending this meet and greet, acting as if he was an old friend of hers, meeting the famous writer after a long time? You almost thought he’d save you from the embarrassment and lead the way, from the way he approached her, but after hearing those words come out of his mouth, you almost go to scold him for his behavior.

To your surprise, though, the writer’s eyes widen in what seems to be realization, nodding to herself. “So you must be Y/N!” she says, looking back at you, a welcoming smile appearing on her lips. 

“I- I-” you stutter, suddenly feeling really confused. Is this a dream? Are you asleep? Or is your favorite writer suddenly a psychic too? What are you missing?

“Yeah! She’s just a little nervous right now,” he grins, taking a short look at you before he turns back to the author, “so… I take it as you haven’t changed your mind about the interview?”

“Not at all! I’m actually really happy to hear that students are taking interest in my writing and that they want to interview me,” she says, quickly signing your books on the front pages, offering them back to you, “I usually don’t give interviews just to anyone– you know, it would get a little too busy if I did that– but your passion really caught my attention.It reminds me of myself when I was your age… Just give me a few seconds, I have a phone call to make right now, but after I’m done, I’m all yours!” 

“Of course!” Renjun nods, watching as the author stands up from the table and disappears in one of the back rooms, seemingly to take care of the call. Turning back to you, still finding you dumbfounded from the interaction, he can’t help but let out an amused laugh. “Are you okay over there?”

“I- What-” you stutter, shaking your head as if to make your brain reboot, dragging your hand through your hair to get it out of your face, “how did you even manage to- she doesn’t even-” you fail to create coherent sentences, shock and surprise overshadowing your otherwise good choice of vocabulary, confusion spreading over your face like a shadow.

“I have my ways,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if this was the easiest thing to accomplish, once again breaking into a grin when he sees your stoic face, “maybe try to smile a little? She might think you’re terrified of her if you keep frowning like that.”

“I am,” you mumble, still not quite comprehending the situation.

Rolling his eyes at you, he snickers. “Come on,” he says, “I bet you have plenty of questions for her up in that brain of yours,” he points to the middle of your forehead, shaking his head at your frozen figure.

“I do, but-” you mumble, catching yourself mid-sentence, “how did you even-” the words stream out your mouth, a puzzled expression not leaving your face.

“You can thank me later. Now focus on your job,” he says, turning you by your shoulders and pushing you a little towards the author that has now emerged out of the back room, a welcoming glint in her eye when her eyes land at the two aspiring journalists.

On that Monday afternoon, with sweaty palms and tongue-tied as you stutter out the curious questions, making an interview for your imaginary magazine, you learn that contrary to the popular demand, Huang Renjun is quite full of surprises. 

The longer you know Renjun, the more you hang out without the purpose of working on your assignment together. Truth be told, you started working on it pretty early into the semester, and while others were now aimlessly pulling all nighters to complete the magazine, you and Renjun were pretty much done with it already by now, since you forced the man to start working on it as soon as it was possible. He didn’t say it out loud, but you can tell he was thankful for that– it would kill the both of you if you had to focus on the project now, when exam season is slowly, but surely in reach and you’ll have to start studying soon.

It was a little awkward at first– you still remember the first time you watched Netflix with him in the silence of his apartment, with his mood very apparently below zero– starting with the two of you taking breaks in between working on your assignment, talking about the latest episodes of the anime you two have, coincidentally, chosen to watch at the same time; later progressing into full on sessions of gossip with his roommate Donghyuck joining the two of you at the comfortable couch. You’d say your friendship started a little this way, with you and Renjun running to the convenience store when you ran out of snacks in the middle of your study sessions and the two of you randomly laughing at something in your Journalism class, earning yourself scolding looks from the professor. It was unexpected, but you grew familiar with the antics, flowing through the days together, filling the boring days with texts full of TikTok links and Donghyuck sending you random pictures of your project partner all zoomed in on Snapchat. You even invited Renjun over a few times, Jimin accepting the new man in the comfort of your home when she realized he’s not as bad as he used to be before, as you ate up all of your snacks this time around instead, having impromptu karaoke sessions in your room, trying to quiz each other on the lyrics of your top tracks of the last year on Spotify. 

Everything felt casual, growing more in tune with the man he was, learning his antics and all about his character. You quickly learned that when he’s feeling down, he gets a little snappy– a bad habit you made him recognise and try to eliminate, at least when you’re around. You found out that when he’s nervous, he bites his nails, and you choose to slap his palms from the proximity of his lips whenever you catch him in the act. When he’s annoyed– much like when you prevent him from the action of gnawing at his fingernails until the skin around them  bleeds– he rolls his eyes and sighs, sometimes even shakes his head at you in disapproval. He looks adorable while doing so, but to save both of you the embarrassment, you’d never tell him out loud.

And you’d even dare to say he learns about you too. He’s an observing individual, and you’d even argue that he cares about you at least a little. For one, he’s not rude towards you anymore, the way he was when you two first started talking, and also, he shows his affection towards you in the most Renjun ways possible. He’d argue that he’s not good with words, but he’s always there to affirm you with them in his true love language whenever you’re stressed or overwhelmed with responsibilities. He also remembers your favorite drinks and snacks, opting to save them for you whenever you come by his place, and even slipping some into your bag before you leave his apartment. He’s a caring individual, a big hearted man, delicate in all directions.

You believe it’s impossible not to fall for him at least a little. Not when you really know him– the way you do, from up close, in his most joyful moments and the ones where he tries to battle you away when the ghosts in his brain try to make him shelter himself away from everyone too.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. Never in a thousand years.

“I hate all this fucking snow,” you tell him instead, when you walk by his side with your groceries in hand, the tips of your fingers brittled from the cold. “Why is it even snowing in the first place, it’s the end of February, for fuck’s sake!” 

The two of you decided to go for a grocery run together, and while some would say it’s not a fun activity to do, you think you like experiencing mundane things with your close ones the most. If you enjoy someone’s company, you truly do not care what you do together– you always go pick up packages from the post with Jimin, or drive your little sibling to the store when you’re back home, even though the action itself doesn’t provide you any conventionally ‘fun’ experiences, most of these are a fond memory in your brain, because you got to spend time with someone you love. It’s the same right now– even though it’s snowing heavily and you can’t feel your feet from the cold– you went to buy groceries with Renjun when he texted you about it, realizing you could buy some things you ran out of as well, opting to walk there together.

“I thought you liked winter?” he snickers, seeing your grumpy expression. 

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you said you hated summer,” he says, matter of factly, making you giggle to mask the warmth spreading on your insides from the knowledge that he remembers the random fact you once told him when you were working on your project together.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like winter either,” you say, shrugging.

“Do you even like anything?”

“No,” you shake your head, totally serious before you burst into laughter, “kidding. I like spring,” you smile at him, eloquently, shuffling your legs along the snowed-in ground, moving closer to the campus, near to where you both live.

“I like spring too, actually.”

“Because your birthday’s in spring?” you snicker, teasing him.

“Maybe,” he admits, laughing with you. “No, but I think spring’s neat for a number of reasons. It always feels… like a new beginning, perhaps? After months of silence, you can finally hear the chirping of birds in the morning, and the sun sets later too, so the days feel longer…” he says, and you find yourself observing him, admiring the love he has for the season.

“Exactly,” you nod, pointing your gaze towards the ground when you notice that he caught you staring, embarrassment creeping up your back before you shudder from the cold, heavy snowflakes falling on top of your head, drenching your freshly washed locks and making your cheeks burn with cold. You can’t remember the last time it snowed so hard– you were in for a couple of warm winters for the last couple of years– and as much as you hate to admit it because of your noticeable aversion towards winter, you must say it looks quite magical.

“Look, I know you hate winter, but you do have windows in your flat, right?” he jokes, making you roll your eyes at the nagging you know you’re about to hear. “Maybe look out of them before you go out, so you could dress for the weather the next time.”

“Very funny,” you snicker, “I’ll let you know, it wasn’t snowing when I was getting ready.”

“Okay then, maybe start using the weather app. It’s great if you want to know how cold it really is outside, and you’re quite good with technology, so maybe you could-”

“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, but feel yourself grinning at the teasing.

The man lets out a sigh– a habit of frustration he does a lot whenever you’re around– before you feel him tugging something onto the top of your head, your ears suddenly shielded by soft fabric. Looking up at your companion in shock, you notice that the beanie that had been sitting on his head until now is covering yours instead; and although you appreciate the gesture with a giddy clench on your insides, you find yourself protesting.

“Jun! You’ll get cold,” you pout.

“Okay, but so will you, and as far as I’m concerned, I have more layers on than you right now, so you need it more than me,” he shrugs, all nonchalant, making you hesitantly smile at him and shut up, keeping the warm wool over your head. 

Next time, you’ll look at the weather app to save your heart some trouble. 

Or maybe you won’t.

Walking closer to your apartment complex, naturally accepting the fact that Renjun decided to walk you home– or just hasn’t realized he’s doing so yet– you fall into comfortable conversation, mostly consisting of you complaining and Renjun finding your tangent amusing.

“My groceries will get all wet! Fucking hell, Renjun…”

“I didn’t force you to come,” he laughs.

“Well, but you have the weather app, as opposed to me, so maybe you could’ve predicted the fact that it was going to snow soon,” you pout, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then why’d you drag me out?” you huff, nearing the steps that lead up towards the front door of your building, being careful not to slip on them as you stand on the first one, towering above the man that takes his position opposite of you while you say your goodbyes. 

“Okay, next time get your groceries alone, if you’re just gonna complain the whole way,” he giggles at your fake offendance, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Snowflakes settle on the tops of his cheekbones, the rosy tint in his face taking your breath away, something in his eyes captivating you and hypnotizing you into doing things you would’ve never dared to do as you reach out towards his hair, now wet from the snow that manages to melt away on his body, brushing your hand through the locks.

“It’s gotten so long,” you muse, “the blonde’s all grown out now.”

He hums, the eye contact making you heat up despite the coldness that’s been trying to seep into your bones. “Maybe I should dye it back to black, then.”

Grinning, you shrug as your hand escapes his scalp. “Yeah,” you nod, “maybe you should.”

“It’s a plan, then,” he says before he grins, poking you in your forehead with his pointer finger as he takes a step back from you, heading towards the direction of his apartment. “I’ll text you,” he adds.

Paying your goodbyes to him, you stumble inside and reach your flat, your whole body on fire even though you’ve been freezing until now as you take off your wet shoes and tug the borrowed beanie from your head. Putting away the groceries, you wonder if there’s a significance in his decision, if the change of hair is the same as the reason why he loves spring; if new things are beginning, or if you’ve just tricked yourself into falling for him too hard.

“You have to mix it together with this first!” Renjun whines, sitting at the edge of the bathtub as he watches you open the box dye you bought together at the drugstore a few hours ago, pointing his finger at the white pack containing the mixing solution.

“Oh,” you mumble, clammy hands flying around and trying to read the instructions instead, too worried to mess up again and accidentally burn Renjun’s hair off. After a few moments of you silently turning the big sheet of paper around in all directions, you hear your companion snicker under his breath, standing up from his position at the edge of the bathtub and mixing the dye with the solution in a little plastic container he got from under the sink himself instead.

“Let me do it,” he shakes his head, “didn’t know you were this useless.”

“If you didn’t want me here, you could’ve just said so,” you put the instruction paper down, crossing your arms on your chest as you take a step back and look at him with an offended pout, watching as he gets everything ready. His hair is sticking all over the place and the shirt he has on is stained with bleach– you suspect he wore this exact outfit a few months ago when he dyed his hair blonde– the fabric hanging loosely down his shoulders. 

“I’m perfectly capable of dying my hair on my own, if you didn’t notice,” he says, “me wanting you here is the sheer reason for your presence.”

Heart skipping a beat at the sentence, masking it off with a fakely annoyed sigh, you watch him take a seat back at the edge of the bathtub when he’s done, motioning for you to take matters into your hands and start dying his hair. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’ll do so just to spite you,” you argue back, taking the plastic container with the dye into your hand and standing close to Renjun, parting his hair down the middle as you get the chemical-smelling mixture into his growing locks. Focused on the task at hand, trying really hard not to get the dye all over the place, you almost get lost in the motion of playing with his hair and pay too much attention to each section, your touch gentle not to tug at his hair. It  makes you not notice the way you’re suddenly standing in between Renjun’s opened legs, your skin covered by fabrics of sweatpants touching.

His head suddenly moves, making you almost dye his whole forehead black, when he plops a gummy worm into his mouth and regains his previous position. 

“Stop moving or else it’s gonna look bad!” you scowl, frustrated with the fact that he made you lose your focus.

“Want a gummy worm?” he asks, looking up at you with an innocent smile instead– as if to make you forget all about his actions from before– and you reward him with an annoyed shake of your head that shows him disapproval which he seemingly chooses to ignore as he reaches into the pack of gummies again and holds one up to your lips, fingertips brushing against the skin of your mouth making you feel heat in your cheeks. You didn’t want a gummy worm, but with the proximity of his hand to your face and the starry gaze he offers you when you meet his eyes, you don’t hesitate to take the gummy into your mouth and chew on the candy, earning yourself a satisfied smile.

Turning towards his hair again, the last few strands left undyed waiting for your attention, the man suddenly squeezes your thigh, making you wince. “How is it going up there?”

“Good,” you choke out, suddenly hyper aware of his hand resting on the skin of your leg, as if to hold you in place, his other hand working almost on auto-pilot as he completes the symmetry and grazes your other thigh, his touch on you so gentle you could almost miss it if you didn’t pay enough attention.

“If it’s patchy, I’m blaming you and not the dye,” he teases, drumming against your leg with his fingers, each little gesture making you less and less focused on his hair and more on the way his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones from above, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from making any sound close to frustration or the sound of perhaps losing your mind. 

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have bought the cheapest one.”

“I’m staying on budget,” he says, making you snicker.

Forcing yourself to focus back onto his hair, you finally complete your task of dying the man’s hair back to its original color. Taking a step back from him and putting the plastic container onto the sink, you start to miss the feeling of his hand on your skin; his hair slicked back by the dye makes him look oddly amusing, though, so you let a grin slip out at the sight of your companion sitting at the edge of the bathtub like a scolded child, his legs outstretched right in front of him and a pack of gummy worms once again firmly gripped in the palm of his hand.

After cleaning up the mess you’ve made on the bathroom sink, with Renjun singing to himself as he put up a timer on his phone for 20 minutes, you find yourself in his kitchen, walking around and finding a pot in which you could cook some ramen for dinner. It’s getting quite late and it’s rare that you find yourself alone in Renjun’s apartment with him, his roommate finally getting out after the dreaded exam season to celebrate, and you can’t help but find the domesticity of sharing his space with him– although this is not the first time– overtake you in a deep feeling of intimacy.

Stirring the noodles around with a fork you found in one of the drawers, listening to the low hums of Renjun singing in the bathroom as he cleans up the skin on his forehead and behind his ears with a wet cotton pad, you wonder how you managed to get used to this– how you even managed to find yourself in the presence of Huang Renjun so often, after only hearing about him from gossip around the school halls and hating his presence when you first had to work with him. It’s ironic, but you don’t hate it quite as much as you would think. 

“You’re making ramen?” he asks as he finally reaches the kitchen, big eyes full of thankfulness meeting yours when he notices you getting out some plates to transfer the meal into, since you’re close to being done.

Humming in agreement, you see him lean on the kitchen counter from the corner of your eye, a satisfied smile reaching his lips. “I should invite you over more often.”

“I’m here like twice a week, Jun,” you mumble, focused on not spilling the meal all over the place.

“Well, if it means you’ll cook all the time, you can even move in, if you want to” he jokes, making you shake your head in disbelief as you take the plates and move them to the coffee table you are so used to sitting at by now, since the boys don’t really have a dining table in their apartment, making them (and sometimes you joining) eat all the meals at the coffee table, sitting on the ground.

“And where would I sleep? On the couch? No, thank you,” you shake your head, digging into the noodles and blowing on them to make them cool faster.

“I’ll kick Hyuck out, so you can have his room,” he mumbles in between bites, following you. 

“So you just want me to be your maid, got it,” you nod.

“That’s not what I said,” he looks at you with offense, before digging into the noodles again, mumbling under his nose before taking a bite, “although you would look nice in a maid dress-”

Kicking him in the leg, seeing as he chokes up on the food from laughing, you shake your head in disbelief at his antics. You think it’s the hair dye getting to his brain, so when his timer goes off in a few minutes after you’re both done with the food, you thank god for bringing you out of your misery. 

Listening to the sound of the shower as he washes the hair dye off, you take it upon yourself to clean up the dishes. You’d feel bad for leaving a mess in his kitchen, and you also think it’s a nice thing to do. It only takes a few minutes before he’s out of the bathroom again, hair damply sitting on his forehead, his figure twirling like a ballerina– reminding you of the way you did little fashion shows for your father whenever you came home from shopping with your mum– waiting for what you have to say about his new look, although in true reality, he looks just the same as a few months ago. 

“Does it look good?”

“I can’t tell ‘cause it’s wet,” you say, squinting your eyes at the mess on his head, “go blow dry it.”

“Fuck no,” he shakes his head, protesting, “I hate blow drying my hair.”

“Why? I can’t tell if it’s patchy this way,” you say.

“My hands get tired and I get bored and I just really don’t enjoy the experience,” he simply states, and he wins– whether this was his intention or not– as you drag him back to the bathroom and get out of him where he keeps the blow dryer, plugging it in and moving to do it for him. 

There it is again– that funny feeling in your stomach as you move your hands through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you blow dry his locks. The feeling makes you weak in your knees as you look at the boy who now has his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the motion of your fingers threading through his freshly dyed strands, and when you finally turn the device off and watch him open his eyes, looking at you half-lidded and seemingly a little tired, you once again notice his hands on your thighs as he sits at the bathtub, although now the touch is more firm, pulling you close to him. 

“Are you happy now that your hair is black?” you find yourself asking, your eyes bearing into him as you reference the dialogue you two had when he dyed his hair blonde, when you two didn’t know each other well just yet and he told you the wishful secret of wanting to have more fun as a blonde since he was sad when his hair was black. 

His smile looks a little drunk, despite the both of you being completely sober as he replies, acting as if he was getting tipsy off your proximity and gentle touch. “My hair’s black because I’m happy, not the other way around,” he mumbles, your eyes momentarily drifting to his pretty lips as he talks, their rosy plumpiness making it hard for you to unstuck your gaze from the curve of his smile and focus on other features of his face.

“Good,” you nod, your hands finding their place at his shoulders, almost going for a hug, but never really completing the action. 

“So how do I look?” he asks again, your conversation growing quiet in the intimate atmosphere, voices not wanting to interrupt the calm, yet tense harbor. 

Examining him, you find yourself once again attracted to the boy you see in front of you. He looks exactly like he did before his break-up– yet now, you’d argue and say he looks even better; healthier and more radiant, his features gentle, hair a little longer and his smile reminding you of an angel. Humming to yourself, you brush your hands through his black strands again, letting yourself indulge in your growing feelings for the man for just a second, before the moment is gone. “Really pretty,” you mumble, watching as his smile grows for a mere second before his eyes drift from yours down to your lips, making you forget how to breathe.

Your hands continue to get lost in his hair as you stare at each other for a while, silence in the bathroom making you listen in on each other’s breathing, before your brain fails you and you let yourself operate on auto-pilot, leaning down to his face, surprised to see him meet you in the middle. You kiss him as if you’ve been waiting ages to do so, your lips molding in with his in a perfect harmony, firm, yet still unmistakably gentle contact making you shiver. 

It feels like a century before you pull away, ready to face the consequences of your actions, when he captures your lips in another kiss, drunk on the action. Feeling him standing up from the edge of the bathtub and moving his hands to firmly grip your waist before he walks you backwards against the tiled wall, the coldness of it mixing with the heat spreading across your body makes you gasp into the kiss and invite his tongue into your mouth.

Your hands fall from his hair and find their way around his neck, tugging him close, while one of his gentle palms rests on your jaw, angling your face in a way that lets him take control and have you even closer, two bodies seeking each other’s presence.

“Renjun…” you gasp when his lips move away from yours, leaving kisses down your jaw, slowly reaching the delicate skin of your neck and the conjunction of your shoulder. 

He hums into your skin, a cold hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt making you wince, all of his actions making your senses hyper aware to the touch and feeling of his lips pressed against you, especially when he finds the sweet spot behind your ear and makes you squirm under him, the feeling of his smile against your skin turning you crazy.

Finding yourself tugging his face back to yours, taking back his lips, his hand travels up your side, leaving goosebumps all over your skin with the cold motions of his fingertips, you shiver under his caring, yet teasing touch. The kiss feels as if it’s one step away from heaven, letting out a satisfied sound when he softly brushes the underside of your breast.

Pressing him closer against you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck, you feel him hard against your thigh, neediness overtaking you as you lightly move against him, hearing him choke out a breath. “Is- is this okay?” he asks, voice not louder than a whisper before you continue with your motions, answering with your actions before using your words, breathing growing quicker with the way the friction makes you feel.

“More than okay with me,” you mumble, seemingly encouraging him as he presses you firmer against the tiled wall, helping you guide your desperate movements. Foreheads pressed against each other, breathing mixing in the silent room, you can’t seem to find it in you to stop, completely losing yourself in him and in the way he makes you feel, selfishly chasing down release from all the butterflies and electric stares he’s been sending your way.

Grunting when you press up against him in a way that sends sparks down his spine, his hand reaches up under your thigh, almost on the skin of your butt, holding up your leg to make more room and get you even closer to him, before he heaves out a sigh. “Let’s go to my room?” he asks hastily before you nod and let him plop you up against his figure with your legs entangled around his middle, escaping the cold tiles of the bathroom and walking over to the his room smelling of fresh laundry detergent and vanilla, soft sheets enveloping your body when he lightly drops you into his mattress.

A giggle escapes your lips at the contact of your body with the bed, earning yourself a playful roll of Renjun’s eyes as he leans over you, plopping himself up on one elbow above you, caging you in his embrace. Maintaining eye contact with him, blissful smiles stretching on your lips, you almost think the moment is over, but he quickly brings you back to the neediness you felt before as he leans in again, kissing you painfully slowly while his hand reaches under the hem of your shirt, letting his palm travel against your body. His actions make you shiver as his fingertips softly tickle your side, moving towards the dip of your waist, then back up across your stomach as he traces mindless shapes against your skin, occasionally letting himself travel up towards the fabric of your bra. Cupping one of your breasts into his hand, you let out a soft grunt when he squeezes the flesh softly enough to make you yearn for more.

Mirroring his actions, your hand moves under his loose shirt, hypnotized by the heat of his flesh. Enveloped in his warmth and the smell of him in his bedsheets, you let yourself roam up his abdomen, embracing the way his muscles jolt a little under your touch, before your hand settles onto his back, fingertips dancing up and down his spine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles, making you break into a blissful smile, before his hand lazily dips down your belly, seeking approval in your eyes, “can I?” 

Nodding, afraid of seeming a little too eager– although maybe he would welcome that with open arms– you feel his fingertips messily dragging down the waistband of your sweatpants a little by little, leaving you in front of him only in your underwear, his lips swallowing your sighs when he hesitantly brushes his thumb against your clit. 

His movements get more confident as he adds more pressure, making you let out a few more muffled sounds he welcomes with a cocky smile, demeanor shifting as he presses a wet kiss against your cheek when he drags your underwear down and gets back to where he was before, but now acting more gently– as if the contact of your bare core with his fingers made him afraid you’re gonna break in his hold. Softly nudging your thighs, opening up your legs and softly tracing his pointer finger down your slit, he makes your cheeks flush from the contact and the feeling of air against your naked bottom half.

He doesn’t say much as he tests the waters, dragging his digits along your folds, examining your reaction when he circles your sensitive bud and sees you crumble under his touch. Your hands grip his pearl white sheets, not really knowing what to do to ground yourself back to reality, the man above you finally finding enough courage in him to insert one finger, then two inside of you, watching you react to his actions.

“Feels good,” escapes your lips, and truthfully, you didn’t even catch yourself saying it. It left your mouth on itself, your tone a little fragile but full of eagerness, wanting more– and seemingly understanding, he moves inside you with more reason now, hitting the right spot that makes your eyebrows crease and your breathing hitch in your throat.

“There?” he asks, as if to tease you. In any other circumstance, you’d find it in you to bark back something full of sarcasm and irony, but now, vulnerable and sensitive to his every move, you only nod eagerly and meet his eyes which are now clouded with lust, a view you’ve never experienced before, but welcome with undeniable curiosity.

Angling his fingers inside of you just the way you need them, you quickly feel yourself reaching your high, one of your hands flying to his forearm as if to let him know or warn him, somehow. Judging by his actions, he got the memo– showing his experience when he continues with the same speed and pressure, keeping still– before he slowly trips you over the edge, having you clenching around his fingers as you let moans slip out from your lips, euphoria taking over your whole body.

His figure leans into you, holding you close as your breathing comes back to normal, his lips press soft kisses to your temple. It’s almost a hint that the act is over, his actions growing more tender as opposed to the way he had you just a few moments prior, but you find yourself not wanting it to end, tugging his shirt up and earning yourself a questioning look.

“More?” you mumble, looking at him, grabby hands helping him take his shirt off. Your please sound almost like a question– they may as well be, for you don’t know if he wants this too– but he reacts to you positively when you have your eyes roaming across his bare torso, hands flying towards your own shirt, taking it off before you chastly press against him, both of you sitting at his bed, meeting him in a kiss as you settle yourself into his lap. 

In this moment, there’s nothing but him. Your head spins with his essence, your brain painfully aware of everything; of your hands holding his cheeks when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, chasing after his neck in a desperate need of leaving a mark, wanting evidence of you being there the next morning, so you could remind yourself that this wasn’t just a dream or a product of your own imagination. When you press down against his lap, dragging your naked core against his hard on, his hands grip your sides, sneaky fingers trailing up after a moment as he tugs the straps of your bra down before slipping it off completely, leaving you naked in front of him.

Lifting you by your hips and moving you back against his pillow, laying you into his sheets, he lets you drag his sweatpants down, your fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxers and gently dragging along the sensitive skin, feeling needier at the sounds of satisfaction escaping his lips. Bringing him closer with your other hand, he takes a moment to confirm with you one last time. 

“Are you sure you… want this?” he doesn’t seem to find the right words, leaving you softly laughing at his puzzled expression.

“I am,” you nod, assuring him, “I- I want you,” you mumble, still loud and clear, and he wastes no time in freeing himself of his underwear and aligning himself with your entrance.

He slowly pushes inside of you, his whole length filling you up. He leaves you some time to adjust, checking in with you with a look to your eyes, fingertips gently dragging your hair out of your face before you confirm with him that you’re okay with a soft nod, making him move and gently thrust inside of you; painfully slow at first, but reaching deep, taking in every inch of you. Pleasure builds inside of you as his thrusts become more quicker, finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl and your hands fly to his back, scratching down along his skin when he hits your spot and your eyes shut in a spell of satisfied sighs.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your lips, a sentence sweet enough to make your cheeks flush under him– yet you think the heat you feel is more than shyness from his words, but from the contact of his skin on yours, driving you absolutely crazy.

His finger gently plays with your clit, slowly, but surely tipping you over the edge. You hold back a moan, head falling to your side on his pillow, Renjun’s lips pressing kisses into the now exposed areas of your neck, still going at a steady rhythm. 

“Fuck,” you let out when he picks up at speed, the imaginary glass of pleasure in you getting fuller and fuller, making afraid of it spilling out when he keeps going, your hand flying into his hair, tugging at it in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, “I’m close.”

He hums against your neck, softly biting a bruise into your flesh. He doesn’t say much, again– his loving is quiet, only occasionally letting out needy noises out past his lips here and there, grunts slipping out when you feel just right around him. You find it hard to keep up with the silence, blissful sounds escaping you when he takes you over the edge. Your walls clench around him as he’s still thrusting into you, chasing down his climax and making the most out of yours. You swear you can see stars, the tips of your fingers starting to tingle when you get a little too overstimulated, but before you can do anything about it, he slips out of you and warmth spreads on your stomach, his body crashing next to yours.

He doesn’t say much after either. The room falls into silence, your bodies heaving with deep breaths as you try to calm down the erratic beating of your hearts. Mindlessly threading your fingers through his hair, you stare at the ceiling, his arms draped over your middle, occasionally playing with the flesh of your hip, squeezing it with his palm and dragging his fingertips across the soft skin. Looking down at him, not seeing much other than the raven locks falling into his forehead and his closed eyes, you try hard to appreciate the closeness of his body, just in case you don’t get to experience it ever again.

Feeling his nose nuzzling into your skin, you wonder if he’s happy.

Dark, wallowing pit opens up in your stomach, the harrowing feeling you didn’t know you could recognise fills you up to your rim; your vision goes a little blurry at the sight in front of you and after a few seconds of torturing yourself by watching, you feel the bitter taste of blood on your tongue from gnawing at the gentle skin of your bottom lip too hard. That alone wakes you up from the weird transe you’ve been put in, making you turn on your heel and chime outside of the building, the iced americano in your hand thrown in the nearest trash can as you take the short way home, suddenly wanting to hide away from everyone and everything, too fragile to deal with the outer world today.

You open up the door to your apartment with a little struggle, your hand shaking not making it easy for you to put the key inside the keyhole, and when you finally get to the comfort of your little place, you’re met with Jimin’s concerned eyes waiting for you in the hall, her figure hesitantly walking over when she heard you struggle with the door.

Closing the door behind you a little too loudly, careless in your actions from how hard your heart is hammering against your ribcage, your roommate approaches you with gentle words. “What happened? Weren’t you meeting up with–”

“No,” you shake your head, cutting off her sentence before his name manages to come out of her mouth, your throat closing as you choke out the response; the soft gaze she offers you at the stern words of disapproval makes your eyes water even though you already promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over this.

“Oh, sweetie,” Jimin mumbles as her long legs make their way towards your shrunken figure, enveloping you in her arms. You let yourself be comforted, almost yearning for the slow strokes she gives your back, her long fingers threading through your hair. There aren’t many instances where you two had to hold each other in the entrance hall, too afraid of letting go before one of you breaks. You remember her breaking up with her boyfriend Jaehyun– they dated for a couple of months last year before he had to move away and a long distance relationship wasn’t something either of them was willing to put each other through– but that time, it was in the comfort of her bedroom and you watched the first season of Too hot to handle together after it was done to take her mind off things. You, however, don’t have much dating experience. Not a significant one anyway– you only dated in high school, and even though the boy you crowned your first in many things was sweet, you simply fell out of love with him after a few months and called it quits, with no tears shed and no hearts broken.

“I think I was just a rebound,” you get out in between your quiet sobs, the image of Renjun sitting at the cafeteria with Yunjin, his soft gaze offered to her as she leaned over the table and said something quietly to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek only further proving your claims.

And you guess you were the stupid one– you guess you were silly for thinking he was over his ex already, even if it’s been a couple of months since they broke up, even if he told you he didn’t miss her, but was sad to let go what they had– because the sweetness in his eyes when he looked at her hurt you more than you could’ve ever imagined, because you think you remember him looking at you like that the evening you dyed his hair black; you remember him looking at you like you hung up the stars on the sky, and you believed the gentle gaze– you believed there was something more than sex to it, you believed he felt the same feelings as the ones you’ve been harboring for the boy ever since you first hanged out at his place and watched Netflix with him to take his mind off the said girl.

Jimin doesn’t ask any questions– she knows you’ll tell her eventually, you just need comfort right now. Sniffling as you try to come down from the heartbreak you’ve caused yourself, you groggily get out a sentence that hurts to say out loud perhaps the most from the feelings freely roaming around your brain. “I don’t think it meant anything to him– I– I don’t think I meant anything to him.”

As if to torture yourself even more, the images of you two getting closer over the time flash through your brain– and you wonder if you were just lying to yourself the whole time. If his words weren’t what he made them out to be, if his gentle nature that overtook him when you were around was just him treating you as one of his friends. If he hooked up with you only because he was horny, and not because he cared for you enough to want to explore you further, deeper– if you were the only one in it for something more, if he was just keeping himself busy while trying to get over his ex.

And much like that time at the party, where he held you close and spent the whole night pretty much glued to your side, right in front of everyone’s eyes, you wonder if you just fulfilled your purpose in his life. 

“Shh,” the girl shushes you out of your self-destructive thoughts, still not getting any context on what happened, but being there for you anyway, “let’s just watch something, okay? We have the whole day off to ourselves, let’s watch this new anime I’ve been eyeing, what do you say?” she mumbles, seeing as you tiredly nod and she affectionately squishes your cheeks together, leading you towards the living room.

If you weren’t so numb right now, you’d even giggle. Jimin doesn’t watch anime– the amount of reality TV she watches is quite concerning sometimes– and her effort to aimlessly search through the internet for the first episode of an anime she randomly saw on Tiktok one day and thought would suit your watching style both amuses you and makes your heart warm just a little. Indulging in TV series is one of the only coping mechanisms either of you can ever come up with, it seems.

When the opening credits roll, you hear your phone’s notification sound pop up, your hand reaching for the device. You don’t even get an opportunity to look at who is texting you before your roommate snatches the phone out of your hand, swipes across the screen and turns it off with one swift motion, forcing you to focus on the animation going on the TV.

Sometimes, all you need is your caring roommate to take over everything. Today, more than ever, you’re more than willing to give yourself into her hands.

After that, you do what you think anyone in your situation would (or wouldn’t do, to be precise). You don’t text Huang Renjun random things throughout the day like you used to– you no longer laugh at weird memes he finds funny with him and you no longer read his texts that are full of random complaining, mostly about his roommate Donghyuck, throughout the day. You don’t meet him to work on the project together. It’s almost done and you still have time– you are planning on just finishing it by yourself and turning it in on the day it’s due, with no contact with the male. You also don’t call him when you’re walking home alone in the late hours of the evening, scared and yearning to find comfort in his saccharine words. You don’t even look at his messages– he sent you multiple– only letting yourself to check the contact name before you swipe the notification away without giving it much thought, making yourself ignore all of his calls the moment you hear your ringtone go off. Worst of all, you don’t even attend class anymore. You’re glad for the past you that managed to attend every single class, because now, you have more than enough absences to use up before the semester ends and you go on spring break.

You do everything in your power to erase him out of your life. It takes an admirable amount of self-control, you must admit.

And sometimes, it even feels silly. It feels stupid to react so much to seeing him with his ex girlfriend, because frankly, you two weren’t dating. No amount of touches, gentle words, hang-outs after the sun sets and intimacy means that you are a couple; it didn’t matter that you opened up to him so much when neither of you confirmed to this being inclusive. The day before you dyed his hair back, you two were just good friends, after all. Sex didn’t change anything– even though you thought it would. 

And maybe that’s what’s making you feel even more angstier about the whole thing. You gave him every last ounce of yourself you had, every inch of your body, from the inside out– so now, you feel thrown away, as if you were useless.

The cold nights slowly turn into warmer evenings, birds chirping outside waking you up in the mornings even more reminding you of the man you lost somewhere along the way. Spring was the favorite season of you both, but somewhere deep inside of you, you’re starting to dread it. Maybe it’s the fact that you were yearning for a new beginning for yourself in spring; for something to be born seemingly out of nothing– but it seems like you are supposed to bloom by yourself now, and you’re finding it harder than ever. 

It’s the beginning of the second week of March. Warm sunlight makes your feet spring up from your bed in the early morning, forcing you to take a walk. You’ve gotten used to going on these, as many call it, ‘mental health walks’ lately– you read on the internet that they help your mood, and even though it’s a slow progress, you’re willing to try anything, at this point. 

You chose a fixed destination you walk to every other day. It’s on the opposite side of the campus– where the Science buildings are– and you would be lying to yourself and everyone if you said you didn’t carefully craft the journey so you wouldn’t get in contact with the man you’ve been trying to avoid for the last two and a half weeks. It’s far away from your apartment, and even further away from his. There’s no reason for him to visit those parts of the campus, and you find comfort in the fact. 

Finding a bench under a cherry blossom tree– it’s slowly starting to wilt these days– you sit in silence for a while on some days, and on others, you put in your earphones and watch the world around you go by without you moving a single finger, trying to find comfort in the fact.

Listening to the playlist you made in the crack of dawn last night– Renjun always made fun of you for the fact that you once listed ‘making Spotify playlists’ as your hobby– you fall deep inside of your thoughts. When this happens, it’s hard to control your mind and think of something positive. The only thing left for you to do is to hope and pray you don’t spiral.

Why did it even matter so much to you anyway? It was just a kiss to his cheek. It’s not like you caught them in the act…

However, still, the image of them looking so comfortable together broke your heart; because somewhere along the way, you thought he’d always feel resentment towards the girl. She broke his trust, she made him feel worthless, and it was left for you to take all those broken pieces of him and glue them back together. You didn’t realize it back then, but just the fact that you didn’t give up on him back when he was being difficult was enough for the boy to feel at least a little better again. Your nagging, yet silent acts of meeting him somewhere in the middle, even on his worst days, was a source of comfort for him. And after a while, you started noticing that– you started noticing him warming up to you every time you met, you started noticing his gratitude towards you in the little acts of service he brought with himself when he bought you snacks or texted you if you came home safely after your meetings. 

You guess that seeing Yunjin talking so freely with him, seeing her kiss his cheek with such tenderness, made you feel so deeply, easily replaceable in his life. You guess you always feel like that with everyone anyway. It’s a bad habit you find hard to break– maybe you too, just need someone to be patient with you while you heal.

“What are you listening to?” you hear a voice, tone close to honey, ask from the place next to you. It makes you jump in terror, both from recognising it so easily and from not expecting him to find you here, so far away from everything, as you look at him with surprised eyes.

You don’t know what it is that keeps you silent. Perhaps it’s surprise. Perhaps it’s pettiness. Perhaps it’s shame. 

The feeling makes you stiff in silence, everything in you refusing to respond to his sudden casualty. “Okay, I’ll just stalk your listening activity on Spotify when I come home again, then,” he shrugs, his uninhibited demeanor making you boil inside. You feel like your insides are on fire, you feel like the whole world came crashing down on you because of mere seconds of seeing him with someone that he once held so dear to his heart, making you  feel replaced and forgotten, and yet, he comes to you so easily and doesn’t even acknowledge your hurt?

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice soulless as you turn your music off and put your tangled earphones into your jacket pocket, finally choosing to recognise his presence. 

“Talking to you,” he shrugs, “I… brought you coffee,” he smiles, showing you the Starbucks take-out cardboard holding two drinks together, one iced americano and one caramel latte, the sight making your heart warm up quite dangerously at the thought that after all this time, he got your coffee order down, he noticed you sweetening your drinks, and he remembered.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you scoff. “How did you know I’d be here?”

The man shrugs. “I didn’t, at first. I… I came to your apartment to talk to you, but Jimin said you weren’t home, so after a few minutes of begging her to tell me where I could find you, she gave up and sent me here.”

You guess you’ll have to have a serious talk with your roommate when you come home.

“Why… why are you here, then?” you ask, still feeling the bitter pettines on your tongue when the words escape your mouth.

“Well,” he starts, taking a deep breath in, collecting his thoughts, “at first I thought I’d give you space. I thought you didn’t want to talk with anyone and you kept ignoring my texts and calls, so I texted Jimin to ask if you were okay, and when she told me you were doing fine, I figured it had to do something with me. And then– and then I thought I’d give you some space, since you looked like you needed some, but… but I think I need to face the problem now, since it’s clearly… something big, you know…” 

It’s undeniable that Huang Renjun is quite the smart individual. His ability to instantly sense your emotions and decipher the meaning behind them never fails to catch you off guard, though.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you suddenly notice the nerves he tried to mask by fake casualty. He keeps chewing on his bottom lip and he’s picking at his cuticles so hard you think they’ll bleed at any minute, his frame small and hesitant as he turns away from you, afraid to meet your eyes. He looks so, so guilty, and you suddenly feel stupid for making such a big deal out of something that shouldn’t have mattered to you in the first place.

“What… What did I do to hurt you?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Because you must be hurt, if you’re avoiding me this much.”

Taking a deep breath in, you shake your head at the whole situation. He’s right, though– perhaps it’s time to finally face your problems now, so you can move on. Maybe this closure is what you need, maybe you need to hear it from him– to hear that it didn’t mean anything to him, to hear that Yunjin apologized and he’s gonna get back together with her, because somehow, your brain convinced you this was the case– to finally let him go and stop mourning something that was never there in the first place. “I–” 

Your words fail you.

“Do you… regret it?” he asks, voice so small you almost don’t hear him. 

The sentence takes you off guard. Looking at him, you can’t even bring yourself to speak, confused eyes roaming over his tense features. Opening up your mouth to ask for clarification, he mumbles again before you get a chance to speak. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”

Blinking at him a few times, a crease appearing in between your eyebrows, you shake your head. Is this really what was running through his brain? Is this why he left you alone for more than two weeks? Because suddenly, it makes sense– the way he gave you space and let you avoid him for two weeks before he came to find you in person– but again, this is not at all what was running through your brain all these days. Never once did you regret what you two did, no matter how shitty you’re feeling about it now after your brain convinced you of things that weren’t even real in the first place. “No,” you simply say.

A hint of relief washes over his face, his shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit– it looks like this was what he’s been scared of the most; it looks like he feared he hurt you in this way. Still, he insists on talking it out once and for all. “What is it, then?”

Shameful to meet his eyes, you point your gaze towards your feet. Convincing yourself that your feelings are valid and that you were right to feel the way you do, the same way you did to him all those weeks ago at the stairs in front of the university building, you confess to your worries. “I saw you with Yunjin the other day.”

Now it’s his time to stay silent, and somehow, your brain can’t find a way to deal with not getting a response from him, so you ramble to cope. “At the cafeteria, I mean. I– I wanted to surprise you, and you said you were getting lunch alone and I was at the campus, so I thought I’d come to keep you company, but then… then I saw you with her, and you two seemed so comfortable together, so close, and then she kissed your cheek and it made me… it made me feel like… like you maybe wanted to get back together with her, or something…?”

“And really, it’s fine, if you want to do that, I guess I just… for the sake of both of us, or maybe just me, I think… I think it’s better for me to keep my distance from you, then.”

Watching as his expression shifts to one full of disbelief, you swear that what you want the most in this moment is to disappear. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me those past two weeks?” he asks.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, suddenly feeling insanely silly and unreasonable when you say all of those things out loud, you avert your gaze from him, pointing it somewhere into the distance. 

“Is this really it?” he asks again, insisting, full of disbelief. “You made me feel like you regretted having sex with me, and this is it?” he chuckles, and you don’t know if it’s because he’s looking down on you, or if he just truly finds the situation funny. 

“Look, I–” 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gets out, looking as if every nerve and stress in his body finally let go, relief washing over his face like waterfalls, “I was so scared, and this is what’s been bugging you?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief as he runs his hands through his hair. “She came to apologize to me. Not that it mattered something to me, and not that it made any difference, but I didn’t have it in me to tell her to fuck herself, you know? That’s what you saw. She told me she wishes me well and that she hopes I find joy in someone else too. She didn’t even– she didn’t even sit with me at lunch. She went to eat with her boyfriend.”

And here it is– the inevitable notion of shame intensifies. Finally having the explanation you’ve been wanting to hear, but purposefully avoiding for two weeks; finally feeling relief in your chest, your worries escaping out like the summer wind, and even though you should be happy, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I mean– it’s just… I’m sorry too, it’s just…” he trails off, making you look at him with examining eyes, eyebrows raised in question. You don’t really know what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for leaving you space even though he was convinced that’s what you needed– had he approached you earlier, you wouldn’t have to avoid him for two weeks.

“It’s just…?”

“I find it ironic how you thought I wanted to get back together with her, when in reality… you were the one I wanted to get together with in the first place, you know?” he asks, and if you squint hard enough, you could still see hints of nervousness in his body when he asks the rhetorical question, soft eyes scanning your face when your eyes meet.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth agape in surprise.

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pressed into a thin line, “cause I like you… like, a lot, actually, so…” he mumbles, the confession reminding you of your first weeks with Renjun– tense and awkward, but with a promise of something new the more you got to know him.

“Oh,” you repeat again, your brain still not catching up to the situation.

Suddenly, the two weeks of avoidance feel even more silly. You don’t know what happened in you to cause this much distress for the both of you, but you’re filled with delight with the fact that even though you expected him to get mad at you– to call you unreasonable, maybe even a little stupid– he seems to be understanding of your emotions. He seems to accept them, willing to put up with them and everything that requires of him; he seems to be willing to find you even at the end of the world and try to get you back into his life. Because only god knows how much he appreciates your presence in it. 

“So…” he mumbles, a silent question hanging in the air, making you realize you were too caught up in your thoughts to really give him an answer.

“I… I like you too, if that… wasn’t obvious,” you snicker, shrugging as a wide smile spreads across your cheeks. The words fall a little bashfully off your tongue, the confession ringing strangely in your ears, but you don’t mind the little uncomfort the shyness in your demeanor brings you.

There are no long confessions, no deep words of love. Once again, Huang Renjun is a man of few words– he shows you his care through actions. 

He finds you when you’re avoiding him. He makes sure you get home safe. He tries hard to work with you on a project he originally wanted to avoid, only because he notices you finding interest in it, your passion slowly sparking up his. 

He keeps annoying the publicist of your favorite author for a week straight to let you make an interview with her, even though he got declined twice over an email with messages filled with bitter and annoyed words. He remembers your coffee order and he invites you to hang out with his friends to show you that you are now a part of his circle, that you are one of his close ones. He lets you make fun of him with your roommate, but doesn’t give you the same treatment he gives Donghyuck when he tries to bully him. He sends you all the cat pictures he gets from his friend Taeyong, sometimes even asking for some when he hasn’t sent you ones in too long, and he also thinks of you any time he sees the snow– because he gets reminded of the walk you two had in the midst of the snowflakes, even though you hate the cold. 

He reads your favorite book and finds pieces of you scattered all across the pages, he feels his love for you in the poetic words and metaphors hidden in the plot. He lets you dye his hair to signify that a part of his life is now over and a new one started– with you being the main actor of the subtle metamorphosis as he slowly shifts back into his old self, yet now a little wiser. 

He is a man of few words, affection coating them only sometimes, when he reassures you over a mug of hot tea in the evenings before you present your assignments in class and when you get too scared of crowded places; but somehow, the words he keeps to himself translate to you despite not being spoken.

In the beams of the warm sun, you gravitate to him like you’re two planets in the solar system, always sharing the same space. And when his smile meets yours in another kiss, you think that after all, you get the kind of new beginning you wanted in spring.

You and Huang Renjun may be the prime example that love, just like cherry blossoms, always blooms in patience. 

I Hate U, I Love U

❝ After finally managing to escape the lifelong rivalry you once had with Yoon Jeonghan, you’re unexpectedly thrown back into the undesirable feud after receiving a scholarship to the most prestigious private school in the city. Despite your attempts to leave the past in the past, you discover too late that you’re the only one interested in letting the vendetta go. Years later, there’s a switch in dynamic when you’re the one unwilling to let it go. ❞

PAIRING: yoon jeonghan x female reader

WORD COUNT: 20.8k

GENRE: enemies to lovers au, rich kid au, college au, model au, fake dating au, angst, (tiniest bit of) fluff, smut

WARNINGS: they’re in high school at the beginning of this, rich boy!jeonghan, frat boy!jeonghan, former rich girl!reader, model!reader, classism, asshole parents, drinking, scheming, mild violence (1 slap), reader and jeonghan are pretty terrible to each other, repressed feelings, revenge is a recurring theme in this, lots of arguing, star-crossed lovers vibes, heavy on the regret, jealousy, fake relationship (but real feelings oops), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, pussy drunk!hannie, cockdrunk!reader, multiple creampies, squirting, overstimulation

a/n: still can’t believe i sat down and wrote this much. hope you guys like it! based on this request (sorry it took so long rip). minors dni!!

You can still remember the exact way you felt when your family lost everything and was left in poverty. Back then, your reality had become a twilight zone that left you feeling misplaced. Fate was cruel to make that exact feeling resurface now as you’re standing at the gates of your new school.

An emotion that could’ve been written off as typical anxiety from being the new kid is actual nerves caused by the unhealthy obsession your parents have with reclaiming the status your family once had. Inexplicably, they both believed the main way to do this is to be better than the Yoon family.

Embarrassing as it is, this fixation of theirs dates back to before you were born. In particular, it’s your mom’s unrelenting need to be better than the Yoons that got you into this unfavorable situation in the first place. She can’t be fully blamed, though. Everything dates back the feud her first husband (your father) has been part of since he was a kid.

As a child, you didn’t fully understand how deep the hatred ran. You also didn’t realize that being the heir to your family’s fortune meant that their vendetta had become your burden to bear (and somehow still was). Naively, you believed everything was over the moment your family was left with nothing. It wasn’t until you were leaving your house that your mom made it clear she still expected you go head-to-head with the heir of the Yoon family.

Believing that Yoon Jeonghan would still be willing to partake in a petty rivalry with you isn’t realistic, but your mom is beyond seeing reason at this point. Restoring the prestige of your family name came before anything now (even reality). In your mom’s eyes, beating the only son of the Yoon family seems to be the only way to do it.

This new-but-not-new obligation is the reason you can’t stifle the sick feeling that overcomes you as you walk through the front gates of the most prestigious private school in the city.

The campus is larger and more extravagant in person. Every single thing—from the wide pathways to the elegant topography—screams money. Students are scattered in front of the building, clad in the expensive uniform that’s currently draped over your own frame. The sight of designer bags, stylish shoes, and glamorous jewelry is a reminder of what once was and will never be again.

As if that daunting fact isn’t enough to make the dread in your gut paralyze you with anxiety, the cold looks you get are. Maybe you’re paranoid, or maybe people are actually sneering at you because they recognize you. Either way, this feeling of wanting to disappear doesn’t go away.

You stop walking to dig in the pocket of your jacket to pull out your phone. It’s a pathetic attempt to look like you’re not a total outsider who would rather be anywhere else. Unfortunately, your actions don’t provide you with the comfort you’re looking for. You wonder if hiding somewhere inside would stifle the nerves you feel. As fate (and your rotten luck) would have it, you don’t get a chance to make that decision.

In a sudden instant, you feel a body collide with your own. You recoil with a surprised gasp when a hot liquid spills all over your chest and torso. The distinct smell makes you panic. Coffee stains are the worst kind, and you just know your mom is going kill you if the uniform she worked so hard to pay for is ruined. Panic seeps into your chest as you start to wipe at your wet clothes without looking up. It’s futile, but just thinking about the consequences that you’re going to face if the overpriced uniform got ruined makes you want to throw up.

“What the fuck!?” The loud yell draws the attention of all the people within the spacious vicinity. “Watch where you’re going, you fucking idiot!”

You furrow your eyebrows angrily, and before you can lift your head to see who’s yelling, you feel an empty cup hit your feet. The remnants of the coffee splatter on your shoes and the lower part of your shins. Somehow, you feel cold despite the coffee being scorching hot.

The surprised guffaws and gasps seem muffled because of how loud your heartbeat is. A yell of your own is building in your throat, but when you look up, you’re suddenly at a complete loss for words. It all feels like some horrible nightmare because you find yourself looking at a face that you never wanted to see again.

Like a scene out of a cheesy movie, your (former) sworn enemy is standing right in front of you.

For some inexplicable reason, you can’t find your voice. You can only stare at Jeonghan with a dumb expression on your face. The embarrassment and anger you feel clash together and whirl inside you like a tornado, but even the intensity of your emotions isn’t enough to get you to express them in the way you want.

Jeonghan feels very pleased with himself until the unknown girl lifts her head. He blinks once, twice, and a third time. This doesn’t have the effect he desires because the image of you isn’t going away. Many years have passed since he last saw you, but he could never forget your face. Jeonghan might’ve thought he was dropped in the middle of some bizarre dream if it wasn’t for the harsh hammering of his heart. It really is you standing in front of him, looking like you’re two seconds away from murdering him.

“What the hell is your problem?” You seeth, no longer able to push down all the anger you’re feeling. “You’re the one who ran into me, asshole!”

Never in your life had you seen someone turn so red in the span of two seconds. You briefly wonder why Jeonghan feels so embarrassed when it’s you who’s dripping in coffee with what feels like the entire world laughing at your expense.

“Y/N?” His voice is incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

It’s a stupid question to ask considering the fact that you’re literally wearing the school issued uniform and have a school bag slung over your shoulders, but you know what Jeonghan actually means: How is it possible that someone like you is attending this school?

You aren’t about to dignify him with an answer since it seems like the watching crowd is itching for a show. Giving him a reaction is only going to make you look crazy, and you won’t give him or anyone else that satisfaction. It seems like you’re the only one that feels this way, though.

“You can’t hand wash the uniform. It has to be dry cleaned.”

Once again, the snickers and mocking whispers sound deafening. Instead of punching him in the mouth like you want, you somehow convince yourself to keep a level head. “Whatever. Move.” You snap before shoving past the stunned boy.

Once you get away from that embarrassing scene and find a bathroom, you shrug off your jacket to assess the damage. A scowl brings down the edges of your lips when you see the dark stains the coffee left behind. With an aggravated sigh, you glance down at your uniform. The front part is somewhat damp and a bit dirty, but luckily for you (and your mom’s bank account) the stains aren’t too prominent.

You take a deep breath before lifting your head and squaring your shoulders. It doesn’t matter that this already feels like the worst day ever, you can’t lose sight of the goal your mom has in mind. And you definitely can’t let Jeonghan of all people derail those plans. Playing into his petty games isn’t something you can afford to do anymore. Not that you want to, anyway.

When you finally calm down and decide to face the day, you find Jeonghan standing outside the bathroom, waiting for you. His shocked gaze from before is long gone and replaced with a hostile one you're more familiar with.

“I guess the standards of the scholarship program have hit an all time low.” He says as he falls into step beside you. “Do you really think coming here is going to change anything? Someone like you doesn’t belong here.”

You try your hardest to ignore him, but he keeps following you. Briefly, you wonder why it seems like he’s eager to pick up where you two left off. Were his parents thinking the same thing as yours, or was this something he was doing on his own?

“I’m talking to you.”

Finally, you stop and turn to him with a mean glare on your face. “I can see the years have done nothing for that pea-sized brain of yours. No matter how much you want me gone, I’m not going anywhere.”

“If you think you’ll somehow claw your way back up the social ladder, you can get rid of that pathetic idea right now.” Jeonghan all but growls, feeling a type of anxiousness he hasn’t in years. “You don’t belong in this world anymore, and you never will.”

Maybe he was right, but that doesn’t matter. You’re not thinking of running away, especially from him. “Scared I’m gonna take your spot at the table?”

“Yeah, right.” He laughs, but it doesn’t sound as confident as he wants. “Someone like you will never take anything from me.”

You look at him and let out a contemptuous laugh. It had been years, but Jeonghan had remained painfully unchanging. The crazed look in his eyes and tone of voice makes you smirk. “You are scared.”

Jeonghan practically has steam coming out of his ears. He can’t say anything, and he’s not entirely sure why. You’re not at the same level as him anymore, but that doesn’t seem to shake any of that annoying self-confidence you’ve always had. Ironically, it feels like he’s the one on unsteady ground. An anxious feeling seeps into his stature because it’s like he can already hear his dad’s disappointed voice for letting you of all people shake him up.

“Well, you should be.” You say, wanting to get under his skin. “Because I don’t need money to get the things I want.”

Maybe those words triggered a reaction out of Jeonghan that was deeper than you realized, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as you got accepted into the private school, your fate was sealed.

The day doesn’t get much better for you as it goes on. Studying amongst the blue bloods wouldn’t be so bad if you happened to be a regular poor person, but since you and your entire family fell from grace all those years ago, you don’t have the luxury of going unnoticed. Their sly comments and sneers don’t hurt, but they are unbearably annoying.

Expectedly, you’ve made no new friends. Nearly every person looks at you like you’re an unwanted parasite, and you have a strong inkling that it has everything to do with what happened with Jeonghan in the morning. It’s not surprising, but it makes you feel more alone than you expect.

When the school day is finally over and you think you can finally get away from all the turmoil you’re feeling, you walk out the building to see the one person who can make this day even worse. Your dad isn’t alone. He’s accompanied by his wife and her son, Seokmin. You barely have time to digest seeing him after so long before he’s turning his head in your direction and makes eye contact.

In a split second, his smile falters until it’s completely wiped off his face. The oh shit look he has on his face makes an unmistakable revulsion force its way up your throat. Many would feel comforted by the sight of their father approaching them, but all you can feel is the dislike and lack of affection you have for him. Briefly, you wonder why he thinks it’s a good idea to come up to you when it’s clear he didn’t know that it was also your first day of school.

“Y/N.” The way he speaks your name is awkward and unsure. “What are you doing here?”

If one more person asked you that, you swear you were going to rip your hair out. Instead of snarking at him to use his fucking eyes and take a look at what you’re wearing, you respond as calmly as you can. “I applied for a scholarship last year.” You tell him, feeling like you might cry. “Mom said she left you a message.”

The grimace on his face makes you feel stupid and embarrassed, but you can’t walk away like you want. It feels like your feet are rooted to the ground, and there’s also the (not so) tiny fact that your mom would never forgive you if you walked away.

“I... I was going to call, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me.”

You’re tempted to tell him that you know he hasn’t given you a single thought in the last four years. It’s blatantly obvious that his stepson is vastly more important to him than you are. You know that, and it no longer hurts as much as it used to.

“Mom said she called you last week.” You repeat, trying not to let your voice give away all the emotions brewing inside you. “She wants us to have dinner together tonight.”

His remorseful expression changes, and you know that he’s about to make things difficult for you all over again. “Y/N, today isn’t—”

“Never mind.” You cut him off, not in the mood to hear his excuses. “Your family is waiting for you, and mom’s waiting for me at home.”

Your dad’s wounded expression doesn’t make you feel anything. Especially not when you notice Jeonghan and his idiot friends gawking at you from afar. You don’t give your dad a chance to respond before you turn on your heel and walk away, hoping the angry tears poking the back of your eyes don’t fall before you get out of their line of sight.

The trip home is longer than usual now that you have to take two buses instead of one. It gives you time to think, although, you wish you didn’t have so much time to ponder your rampant thoughts. All you want to do is get home and sleep off the exhausting day you had.

Unfortunately for you, the universe had other plans that went directly against your wishes.

Directly in front of your apartment building, you can see your mom waiting for you. She has a pensive look on her face that can easily been mistaken with vexation, but you can’t be sure when it comes to the same woman who never reacts the way you expect her to. It’s rare to see a bright expression on your mother’s face these days, but she beams as soon as she sees you approaching.

“Y/N!” She hurries over to you with expectant eyes. “Did you see your father?”

You wish she didn’t look so excited as you nod silently, but her eyes seem to shine as she continues with her questioning. “How did it go? Did he agree to come tonight?”

Of course she only cares about that. Not how your day at a new school was or if you were adjusting well. She didn’t care if you liked the school nor was she interested to know if you made any friends. It’s not disappointing anymore, just irritating.

“He didn’t know that I got a scholarship.” Like she told you a month ago. “He didn’t even show up to see me.”

The excited smile slips off your mom’s face instantly. Her gaze turnes dark as a deep frown settles on her features. “What? How could you be so stupid?” Her voice rises into a hysteric yell. “I ask you to do one thing, and you can’t even do that right!”

You clench your jaw as if that will somehow relieve the anger that’s washing over you. Her degrading words are nothing new, but today it’s getting to you more than usual. “It’s not my fault he wants nothing to do with us. I told you—”

“Shut up.” She growls. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I knew I couldn’t count on you.”

A humorless laugh rips from your throat before you can stop it. “Then you should’ve talked to him yourself instead of making me do it since you’re the one who wants to beg him for money.”

Knowing exactly how to get a reaction out of your mom is always satisfactory, until it isn’t. “I’m only doing this for you! Do you think I want to beg him for money after he abandoned me? All I’ve done since he left is try to give you a better life, and I’m sick of you punishing me for it!”

You could’ve laughed at the absurdity of her words. How could she think that when all these years it felt like you were the one being punished? Instead of telling her some overdue truths, you let out a quiet scoff. “Whatever. He wasn’t going to agree to come no matter what I said to him, and you know it.”

Her silence feels like a victory, but it’s a temporary one. “What I know is that you’re only capable of disappointing me.”

You don’t get a chance to respond before your mom brushes past you with an infuriated scowl. You look back angrily, watching her storm into the building. There’s a familiar anger burning fiercely in your chest as the argument lingers in your mind. She’s not worth your anger, but you can’t stop the overflow of every ugly emotion you’ve been bottling up since the morning.

Things don’t get better after that first day.

Unfortunately for you, going to the city’s most expensive private school doesn’t get any easier with time. The year passes by slowly, and you can’t truly enjoy it because you’re either studying or working. It’s hard to do both, but you aren’t left with much of a choice since your new school brought about unexpected expenses that your mom can’t afford to pay for alone.

As the months pass by, you wonder if all your hard work is really worth it. This dangerous thought lingers in your mind when you get to school on a rainy day after missing your first bus. You’re wet, cold, and tired. After pulling an all-nighter because you had to study for your history test, you’re not in the best mood. And because you apparently had the worst luck ever, Lee Seokmin just has to approach you to remind you that your dad’s birthday is just around the corner.

“Is there a reason you’re telling me this?” You wonder as you half-heartedly shove books into your locker.

“I just...” Seokmin’s voice is meek and nervous. “Are you going to come to his party this time?”

It’s funny that he assumed you were invited this time or any of the other times. “No. I have work that day.”

It’s not exactly a lie. Despite not knowing what day the celebration would be, you knew that you’d either be busy studying or working. Not that this seems to click with the trust fund brat that was abnormally attached to your father.

“You can’t ask for the day off? It would mean a lot to dad if you came.”

His sentence makes your chest and stomach tighten with incredulity and annoyance because it’s so out of touch with reality. You can’t even laugh or feel angry. It’s tempting to tell him that you know your dad couldn’t care less if you went to his birthday party since he hadn’t even bothered to tell you when or where it was happening. Somehow, you manage to stifle your growing ire to respond civilly.

“It’s not like he’s going to be devastated if I don’t go.” You say calmly despite wanting to express the emotions that keep gnawing at your chest.

Seokmin frowns at your impassive attitude. “Of course he’ll care. He’s still your dad—”

“Listen.” You cut him off, slamming your locker shut and finally turning your angry stare at him. “You don’t know shit. Just because he’s played the part of the perfect daddy with you for years, doesn’t mean that’s who he is. So just leave me alone before you piss me off.”

Seokmin shifts uncomfortably, wishing that he hadn’t said anything in the first place. He never meant to antagonize you despite what you’re clearly thinking. He just wants to find some common ground with you. Childishly, he believes it’ll get rid of the guilty feeling he gets every time he sees you.

“Sorry.” Seokmin whispers. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Taking out the resentment you have for your dad on Seokmin doesn’t make you feel better. Somehow you manage to feel even worse after he walks away from you. This dejecting feeling doesn’t go away even as the day goes on. It actually gets worse when you sit down at the library to study during your free period.

It feels like your mind is coming to a crashing halt after being on overdrive for months. You try to pull through even though you’re fucking exhausted. All the effort you’re putting into your studies is so you can win the Merit Scholarship that would pay for your college, and burning out at this point in time wasn’t an option. The prospect of finally piecing your life back together to the way it was before makes it a little easier to ignore the fatigue and stress that lingers in your bones.

But for some reason this day (and the universe) seemed to be working against you.

“You’re fucking lying.” The voice is familiar, but you can’t place it.

“I’m not.” Now there’s a voice you recognize. It belongs to Joshua Hong—a.k.a the evil church boy who identifies as Jeonghan’s bestie. “I was there when he did it.”

“There’s no way Yoon Jeonghan applied for the Merit Scholarship.”

Those words make you freeze. Everything around you becomes a blur as disbelief clouds your senses. Instead of your mind racing with an excess amount of thoughts, there’s only one that keeps bouncing around in your mind: Yoon Jeonghan did this on purpose.

“He turned in the application months ago.” You swear you can hear a smirk in that deviant’s voice.

“Did his family go broke or something?”

“Yeah, right.” A different voice scoffs. “His dad just donated more money to have the arts building expanded. He definitely doesn’t need that scholarship.”

There isn’t many things you can see eye-to-eye on with the snobs at your school, but that last statement is definitely one thing you can agree on. Yoon Jeonghan doesn’t need the scholarship. If you were anyone else, you would think him applying for the scholarship was some mystery with no reasonable explanation, but you know better. This was all because of your refusal to concede to him. Your actions had obviously struck a nerve with his pride, and now he was going to hit you where it hurt.

You can’t even be fully angry. Not when it’s such a well thought out scheme. Still, you feel sick and unable to keep siting still to study. So you quickly gather your stuff and leave the library without noticing the pair of eyes that are watching your every move.

Josh snorts and pulls out his phone, quickly typing a message before sending it out with a satisfied smirk on his face.

It’s done. You should’ve seen her face LMAO.

If you think you can leave school peacefully to try and feel better, you’re proven wrong when you run into Jeonghan as you’re going home.

“You’re leaving already?” He says in a sickly sweet voice as he starts walking beside you. “Maybe you should stick around and study. You won’t win the Merit Scholarship by slacking off.”

“I don’t need to try that hard to beat you.”

There’s a subtle change in Jeonghan’s eyes as he glares at you. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Don’t forget that no matter how smart you are, you’re still a nobody to the people that matter.”

Maybe you should’ve been less naive of the situation. Jeonghan was an asshole, but was also right. You just didn’t know it yet.

Jeonghan begins to bother you more often after he lets you know he wants the scholarship. The remainder of the year he constantly torments and mocks you with the help of his snobby friends. Ignoring them isn’t easy, but the thought that you won’t have to put up with them for much longer helps you power through.

Before you know it, the day the winner of the scholarship will be announced arrives.

The school has an entire ceremony dedicated to academic excellence, and you happen to be one of the students being honored. Friends and family were all encouraged to come since they were giving out multiple awards. Since Seokmin wasn’t getting an academic award, your dad didn’t bother to show up, but he did encourage you to beat Jeonghan via text. You didn’t care so much because you had your mother there, and for the first time in a long time, she seemed genuinely happy. You could see her beaming at you proudly from where she sat.

In spite of all the arguments and resentment, you were thrilled that all your hard work had paid off. Finally, you were going to get your life back. All you had to do was win the scholarship and everything else would naturally fall into place. You’re seated in the second row as the head of the foundation that provided the scholarship steps up to the podium to announce the winner.

Unfortunately, the name of the recepeint for the Merit Scholarship is not yours. Maybe the blow wouldn’t have been so devastating if the name that was announced didn’t belong to Jeonghan.

That asshole is sitting in the row in front of you, and like the final killing blow he always delivers when messing with you, he turns around to give you a triumphant smirk. Anger and disappointment clash inside you as if fighting for dominance to see which one is the more prominent feeling. You can feel your hands trembling and your throat tightening. The situation is unjust and cruel, but that doesn’t seem to matter to anyone except you.

This intense feeling worsens the more the situation sinks in. You don’t even want to look at your mom because you know she’s the only person who’s more angry and humiliated than you are. Everyone is cheering and clapping, but you physically can’t join in. Pretending to be happy for someone who had quite literally just ruined your life was something even you couldn’t do.

When the ceremony is over, your mom doesn’t say anything. Her expression is grim and veiled with muted anger. It makes the nerves in your stomach coil into an uncomfortable knot as you follow her out of the auditorium. You can’t say anything as a thick silence engulfs you because you know anything you say won’t be enough to appease her anger.

“This is just fantastic.” Her words come out in the form of an insincere laugh. “I worked my ass off to send you to this damn school, and this is how you repay me?”

It’s tempting to tell her that you’re the one who worked hard to get into the school despite never wanting to step back into this world, but instead you bite your tongue. After all, there’s no point in arguing with her. No amount of rage or disappointment will change the fact that you won’t be able to afford your dream college. With your current financial situation, pursuing higher education was out of the question, and because of your loss, so was the relationship with your mother.

“After all I’ve sacrificed!?” Her angry voice seems to echo throughout the large hallway, and you can feel the lingering people start to stare. “I’ve given up my entire life for you, and you couldn’t win that damn scholarship! You lost it to Yoon Jeonghan of all people!”

“Mom.” Your voice is flat and tired. “That’s enough. People are staring.”

Pointing that out would usually be enough to get her in check, but the deranged look in her eyes tells you that her anger goes beyond any embarrassment that her behavior might cause. “You’re not even sorry, are you?” She scoffs in angry disbelief.

“Neither are you.” The words come out before you can stop them. “You never had a problem with using me as your meal ticket until I didn’t win, right?”

You hear a chorus of shocked gasps when a cold hand collides with your cheek. A stinging sensation is left behind that has a different type of anger coursing through your veins. Your hand trembles as you bring it up to hold your throbbing cheek. Angry tears pool in your eyes as you look into your mother’s remorseless eyes.

“How dare you speak to me that way?” Her voice borders on a yell. “Every single thing I’ve done has been for you and your future. If I knew you were this useless, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Your mom brushes past you as if you’re a perfect stranger to her. As if you mean nothing to her anymore. Holding the stinging tears in your eyes is painful, but that doesn’t compare to the hurt your mom’s words left behind.

Anger and misery collide together to form a weighing pressure on your chest that makes it difficult to breathe. It feels like your throat is closing in on itself, and you wonder if it’s because of the sob you’re holding in. The heavy tears fall from the top of your lids before you can try to blink them away. It’s humiliating, but you can no longer suppress your emotions like you’d been doing the whole time.

The burning sensation in your cheek has turned into a dull ache at this point, but all you can focus on is the feelings that are eating you from the inside. You see your peers and their families gawking at you. The whispers, snickers, and pitiful glances feel like daggers cutting into you, yet all you can do is stand stolidly and cry silently.

Just when you think you can’t feel any worse, you catch sight of Jeonghan and his family walking out of the auditorium with the head of the foundation. His father is shaking hands with the man, patting him on the back like someone would do to a longtime friend. Which is exactly what the head of the foundation is to him.

Now Jeonghan’s words from before made perfect sense. You’re a fool to realize it this late. Not that it matters anymore. Everything is over now, and all you can do is walk away.

“Your dad really outdid himself.”

Jeonghan offers the girl on his arm a disinterested hum. Honestly, he’d rather to be anywhere else but the gala his dad throws every year. Magnificent as it always is, it’s so boring and draining that it feels more like work than anything. His eyes keep scanning the room for any sign of his friends—or anyone that will save him from his boredom.

“Oh my god!” Mina releases his arm from the death grip she has on it to push past him. “Is that Y/F/N!?”

Jeonghan has to pause for several reasons:

1) Hearing that name after so long makes his chest and stomach flip in the most unpleasant way. 2) It’s unlikely that this airhead heiress is talking about you, but if she is, how is it possible that she knows who you are? 3) There’s no way you would be at his dad’s gala. 4) After disappearing for three years, it doesn’t make sense that you would suddenly appear here of all places.

But when he follows Mina’s line of sight, he sees that it is you, looking more elegant and gorgeous than ever. You’re wearing a designer gown that looks like it was custom made, and you have a tall, six foot nothing piece of arm candy by your side. Even Jeonghan can’t deny that you look like a picture of perfection, and he can’t even begin to figure out why or how you’re at his dad’s gala looking like that.

“And she's with Kim Mingyu!? Oh my god, I have to get a picture—!”

Jeonghan thinks Mina is joking until he sees that she’s already halfway across the room, which is the fastest he’s seen her move all night. Maybe the champagne has gotten to his head because there’s no fucking way any of this is real right now. To his horror, his date actually makes one of his father’s business associates take the picture.

“Close your mouth.” A familiar voice orders. “It’s unbecoming.”

His mom is coldly stringent with the delivery of her words. She doesn’t look surprised, and it makes him feel sick. What the hell is going on?

“Your father invited her.” Her tone leaves no room for questions. “So act like the gentleman I raised you to be, and go say hello.”

He can’t argue because not only is he completely speechless, but also due to the fact that his mom is quick to leave him standing alone. Jeonghan knows his eyes are open wide in that angry way that makes him look like he’s crazy, but he doesn’t care. Why was everyone suddenly acting like they were in some alternate universe?

“Son.”

Jeonghan’s body goes stiff. Immediately, he straightens his expression out as he turns to face his father. He’s met with a familiarly cold expression. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand. There’s a thick silence that envelopes them for a brief moment before his dad begins to speak. “Get that stupid look off your face and join me to go greet our guests.”

Again, he’s left with no room to argue because his dad walks away from him. Jeonghan is quick to follow behind him, aware of the consequences that would befall him should he disobey. Much to his chagrin, he sees his date has wandered off after successfully getting a picture with you and your date. This bizarre situation paired with his father’s attitude makes Jeonghan feel like a clueless little boy all over again.

The feeling gets worse when he comes face to face with you for the first time in years.

Your pretty eyes settle on him for a brief moment that can’t even be considered a full second before they look at his father. The man on your arm—Kim Mingyu—doesn’t acknowledge him at all. Jeonghan’s jaw ticks irritably, but he keeps his composure. Something else is clearly going on, and he would never hear the end of it if he ruined his dad’s covert plans.

“Y/N! Mingyu! I’m so glad you two made time to come!” Jeonghan’s father seems like a different person as he goes to shake hands with faux elation in his voice.

“We can’t stay long.” You say with an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But you’ll have to invite us next year because the event is fabulous.”

It irritates Jeonghan that his dad seems genuinely happy at receiving your stamp of approval. He wants to shake him and ask him if he’s lost his damn mind, but he can only plaster on a fake smile of his own.

“Of course.” There’s that fake politeness again. “Surely you two have time for a drink, though?”

Hearing his dad speak the way his employees do to him is sickening, and Jeonghan has to stop himself from gagging.

“Just one.” Mingyu says with a grin so charming that Jeonghan swears he hears some of the surrounding people swoon. “S.Coups is expecting us at his album release party. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” He says in an understanding tone that he would’ve never used on Jeonghan. He doesn’t get time to contemplate his dad’s out of character behavior because the older man turns to you with a smile.

“Y/N, I’m sure you remember my son, Jeonghan.” His father puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes enough for it to hurt without making him visibly uncomfortable. “I think you two were still in high school the last time you saw each other.”

Finally, you two look each other in the face again. Your face is blank—a picture of impassive. Then, another beautiful smile graces your face. “That’s right. It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”

“I’ve been busy with school.” He hopes his smile doesn’t look as fake as it feels. “So have you, I presume?”

Jeonghan feels proud of his subtle dig until he feels his father stiffen beside him. Your smile doesn’t falter, but it does turn into an amused one as you share a look with Mingyu who doesn't bother to stifle the laugh that tumbles past his lips.

“Jeonghan.” The glare his father is giving him means he was definitely going to hear about his apparent slip up later. “You should go find Mina.”

Translation: Get lost before you embarrass me further.

“Oh. Sure.” Jeonghan tries not to feel like a scolded little boy who’s being shooed away. “It was nice to meet you, Mingyu. Nice seeing you again, Y/N.”

He’s not sure if you saying goodbye without a hint of amusement makes him feel better or worse.

The rest of the night proceeds smoothly, but Jeonghan has to leave early so he can avoid an awkward car ride back to the house with his parents. Not that it makes any difference because he can tell his dad is still very much angry at him when he gets home.

“I told you to go over the information my secretary gave you.”

His dad has a way of speaking that makes Jeonghan feel like he’s getting yelled at even though he isn’t. It makes him wish he hadn’t gotten drunk with Soonyoung instead of going over that damn binder full of names and faces. Obviously thinking he’d be able to skate by like all the other times was a severe miscalculation.

“You spend so much time on that damn phone that I thought you’d know Y/F/N and Kim Mingyu are at the top of the modeling industry right now. I’ve been trying to convince them to advertise our new cosmetic line for weeks!”

Jeonghan feels like his ears are ringing because there’s no way. He fights the urge to pull out his phone and search for confirmation. Maybe he should’ve done that when he got home instead of opening up the whiskey in his dad’s liquor cabinet.

“You said they didn’t seem offended that Jeonghan didn’t know who they were—” His mom is cut off by his dad’s angry yell.

“That doesn’t change the fact that your brilliant son still refuses to do what I ask of him!”

There’s a tense silence in the room as Jeonghan has to withstand the most scornful glare he’s gotten in his life. His father has a crazy look in his eye that makes Jeonghan feel two feet tall. “Any time they advertise a product, it sells out within days. If they refuse to endorse our products because of you—!”

“Honey,” his mother goes to her husband to placate him. “Jeonghan will apologize to them. Isn’t that right, son?”

She might not be yelling, but her voice is cold as ice, and Jeonghan is left with no room to disagree.

There’s not much that can intimidate Jeonghan, but even he has to admit that being in such foreign territory feels unnervingly daunting. After his dad’s secretary did some digging, he found out you were doing a photo shoot near his college. It’s a closed set, but luckily having the last name Yoon is like having an all access pass to pretty much any place he can think of.

This works until he tries to approach you as you’re getting your makeup touched up. Two burly men stop him from getting close, and a man who he would’ve assumed to be a model if it wasn’t for the way he was dressed stands behind them with a raised eyebrow.

“I made it clear to Lee Chan that there would be no interview.” His voice is rough and mean—something Jeonghan isn’t used to getting from anyone aside from his parents.

Jeonghan doesn’t know if he should be more offended that this guy assumed him to be of the working class or that he was being treated like someone that was beneath you. “No, that’s not—I’m a friend.”

The guy looks mildly surprised before he looks back at you. “You know this guy, Y/N?”

You look up from your phone with the same blank expression from the gala. Because you’ve acted cordial so far, Jeonghan doesn’t expect the next words to come out of your mouth. “No. I don’t.”

Jeonghan thinks about causing a scene, but then he knows that won’t help his predicament. So he lets himself be escorted off the sight, feeling more humiliated than ever. It’s unlike him to give up (not to mention that it’s not an option), which is why he waits by a car that undoubtedly belongs to you. To think that he would be reduced to go this far just to apologize to you is infuriating.

“There’s that creep from before.” Your manager frowns as you and your team are walking to the car.

You smirk, knowing what’s going to come next is going to be the highlight of your day. “It’s alright, Jihoon. He’s probably just a fan.”

Jeonghan is surprised when you gesture for him to come towards you while your team starts to get ready to leave. He clenches his jaw when he sees an arrogant smirk on your face. “Is there a reason you’re acting like a stalker and crashing my shoot?”

Insulting you is something Jeonghan wishes he had the option of doing, but he’s not willing to disappoint his father over some temporary satisfaction. After all, he only needs to give you an insincere apology and everything would be fine. So he takes a deep breath and hopes his words don’t come out sarcastic or mocking.

“I wanted to apologize for the other night.” Okay. That sounded somewhat sincere. “I didn’t know—”

“That your daddy’s been begging me to advertise his product?” You laugh. “I guess you just assumed that I married some rich guy to crawl my way up the social ladder, right?”

Shit. He has to do some damage control, and fast. “No—No. That’s not it at all...”

You wait for him to finish, but it really seems like he has nothing else to say. It’s not surprising, but it is amusing. Jeonghan still expected things to work in his favor just because of who he was, but he was in for a rude awakening. You step toward him with a vengeful smile on your face. “That apology is pathetic as you are.”

“What?” Jeonghan growls, unable to keep up this fake politeness he’s been showing you until now.

“You know, when your dad came to my agency to beg me to advertise those shitty products he came out with, I couldn’t help but think that you really are his son.” Your sneer is meaner than he remembers. “It was fun seeing him kiss my ass and offer me so much money, but you know what? I think trashing your daddy’s new product line is going to be so much more fun.”

You bump his shoulder as you walk past him, leaving him feeling like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped over his head. There was a malicious calmness in your tone that didn’t sit well with him at all.

Jeonghan quickly tries to do some damage control because even if you didn’t agree to advertise the new cosmetic line, Kim Mingyu could surely be swayed. The only problem is that he underestimated how much influence you actually have. Not only does the male model reject the apology, but he also officially declines the offer his father’s company made him.

If that wasn’t enough to piss his father off, you also decline the offer and follow it with a slanderous live that wasn’t technically slanderous under the court of law. Many comments came in about you potentially modeling for the line when you flat out said you didn’t particularly care for their products since they weren’t animal friendly and were overpriced. That caused enough backlash for the campaign ads that were underway to be halted immediately.

Despite trying to tell his parents that you never had any intention of advertising their products, he still found himself kicked out of the grand mansion he grew up in and forced to go stay at the frat house with eight other guys.

“Hold on. You know the Y/F/N!?” His friend yells after Jeonghan is done explaining why he got cut off. “You fucking traitor! How could you hide this from me when you know how much I love her?”

Jeonghan glares at Soonyoung, wanting to throttle him for only focusing on that part of the story. Also, he isn’t to blame for failing to realize the queen of the modeling industry his friend was always referring to was you.

“I still can’t believe you didn't know how famous she is.” Seungkwan says with a scoff. “She’s literally in a bunch of ads and magazines. Plus, she always walks in important fashion shows.”

Wonwoo smirks when Jeonghan pouts like a petulant child. The curiosity is eating away at him, and he feels the need to ask about something that’s not fully making sense to him. “So, you’re saying that Y/F/N did this because you’ve hated each other since you were kids?”

“She’s still not over me winning the scholarship she wanted.” Jeonghan says with a scowl. “Because of her, I have to do well on this interview so I can have some money to hold me over until I get full access to my trust next month.”

“You’re seriously going to apply for an internship at Vogue?” Soonyoung wonders with a raised eyebrow. “Won’t you be paid slave wages?”

Wonwoo and Seungkwan snicker, ignoring the glare Jeonghan throws their way. So the pay wouldn’t be great, but it was Vogue. To have an internship like that on his resume would do wonders for his career. Maybe money wasn’t the main attraction to the internship, but what he would get out of it would be worth so much more.

At least, that’s what he thinks until he’s sent to go help with a fitting for Xu Minghao’s upcoming spring collection. There’s plenty of models around who are needing minor alterations to the clothes they’re wearing, and Jeonghan has the great misfortune of handling the alterations needed for your dress.

Aside from you laughing at the fact that he’s literally on his knees, adjusting the hemline of the dress you have on, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Until he accidentally pokes you with the needle, that is. The ow you let out isn’t overly loud, but it is enough to grab the attention of Xu Minghao and Jeonghan’s direct supervisor.

“Y/N, darling, what’s wrong?” Minghao asks you, grabbing your hands as he eyes you up and down.

“Nothing. I—I just thought you’d have interns who are capable of not poking the models when they do the alterations.” You say with a slight grimace, knowing exactly what pulls at the designer’s heart strings.

Jeonghan receives two withering glares, and before the day is over he no longer has a job.

Exacting your revenge was one of the greatest feelings you’d ever felt. The outcome of your actions was more than justified, but your manager didn’t seem to think so. Your behavior confused him because he never knew you to be so spiteful to someone who simply made a mistake.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on between you and that intern you got fired?”

You look up from the newly posted pictures from the Armani show that you closed last week. Jihoon’s eyes are still fixed on the road, but he’s always had this annoying skill for seeing right through you without even looking at you. There’s no use in lying to him—not that you were planning to. You just thought you’d have a little more time to enjoy your revenge before telling the only person who knew about your past with that trust fund brat.

“That intern is Yoon Jeonghan.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen when he hears the name of the person you despise the most in the world. He looks at the rear view mirror to see that you’re back to staring at your phone. He quickly focuses back on the road, grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“Oh.” He murmurs, unsure of what to say. “The same guy who—?”

He cuts himself off, but you know what he was about to say. The same guy who ruined your life? You don’t bother to finish the sentence for him.

“The very one.”

It’s silent for a moment before Jihoon speaks again. “Don’t you think you went a little too far?”

You don’t look up, but he notices the tightening of your jaw. The pause you take isn’t long, but it feels that way. “He has a trust fund to fall back on unlike me who had nothing when my mom kicked me out for not winning the scholarship he stole from me.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything. You’re speaking about the worst moment of your life so casually that anyone would think it doesn’t bother you anymore, but he knows the truth.

“Did you hear back from the agency?” You ask, not wanting to keep talking about the past.

“Yeah. They don’t mind you going to classes for this semester as long as you still do the Marc Jacobs show in Milan and the Versace show in Paris.”

“I also promised Jun I’d do his New York show.” You mention with a victorious smile.

Jihoon hums in acknowledgment. He’s not against the idea of you taking your college classes in person for a semester, but he wonders if it will be okay.

As usual, your manager was right to worry.

Weeks of your college experience go by without any problems. During that time you didn’t notice that Jeonghan had been watching you. He didn’t follow you around or anything like that, but he had observed you long enough to notice that you were oddly attached to your laptop that looked like it was in need of a serious upgrade. And he knows. That’s the ticket to his revenge. So he patiently waits for his chance to grab that ticket.

It takes some convincing (a large sum of money) for Jeonghan to get his English professor to pair you with him for the upcoming project. All he needs to do is get that laptop from you to get the revenge he craves.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more angry. Never mind the fact that there was this perpetual animosity between you and your partner. Jeonghan was also one of the most idiotic people you had ever met. Carrying him on this project was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Don’t expect me to do all the work. I don’t care if have photo shoots or whatever. Make sure you know the material.”

You almost let out an incredulous scoff at his audacity, but instead you just give him an arrogant smile. “I think you forget that you’re the one who always lost to me when it came to academics.”

Jeonghan gives you smug smirk of his own. “And yet I’m the one who won the Merit Scholarship.”

For the first time since he’s seen you again, your arrogant expression falters. He’s not allowed to enjoy the dumb look on your face because you’re quick to smooth it out as if you weren’t slighted by his comment. It’s almost amazing how quickly you manage to cover up your expression.

“Please.” You scoff, trying not to yell at him in the middle of the library. “Your daddy bought that for you just like everything else you have. Too bad intelligence is something that even he can’t afford to get you.”

Jeonghan looks like he did all those years ago on your first day of senior year. His expression is so funny that you can’t help but laugh at him. Your mellifluous laughter catches the attention of some of the people sitting not too far from you who happened to be apparent fans of yours. The pair doesn’t hesitate to walk over to your table and ask for a picture.

You stand up and pose with each of them with that friendly smile you give to everyone except Jeonghan. While your back is turned, he sees your laptop slightly sticking out of your bag. It’s almost too easy to the grab the device and stick it in his own bag. He does it with a precision and smoothness that takes even him by surprise.

As soon as you’re done, you turn back to see Jeonghan gathering the books on the table, bag already slung over his shoulder like he’s ready to leave.

“What the hell? You’re leaving?” You say, annoyed that he was already not pulling his weight this early on.

“I have things to do.” Jeonghan says with a shrug. “I’ll text you later to let you know when I’m free to meet up.”

He leaves you frowning and unaware that he took the single most important item you own.

It’s not until you get back home that you realize your laptop is missing. You panic, practically tearing the house apart trying to find it. Every moment of the day flashes through your mind because you did have a tendency to forget things. It was the reason why Jihoon was responsible for handling most of your personal items when you did shoots.

Jihoon. You think as you search your room for the third time. He’s going to be so disappointed and angry.

The contents in the laptop isn’t what you’re worried about, but the laptop itself. Jihoon bought it for you after he convinced your agency that taking online classes would not affect your work. It meant so much to you because he was the only person who knew how much you had wanted to go to college despite not being able to after you graduated high school.

You’re nearly in tears after realizing that you really had lost it. Even if you went back to the campus early in the morning, it would take you forever to look for it in all the places you’d been to. Just as you’re about to call Jihoon to tell him what happened, you get a text from the last person you want to hear from.

Jeonghan sent a picture of himself holding your most prized possession with an infuriating message attached to it: You’ll get your laptop back if come to my party tonight and take a picture with my friend.

It’s a trap. You know it is. And yet, you still find yourself at the address you were given by the devil incarnate. The frat house is loud and full of people who don’t seem to care or notice who you are. Not that you mind. You only hope Jeonghan doesn’t make things difficult and gives you your laptop right away.

“Y/N!” The deviant yells your name when you finally find him.

Jeonghan is clearly drunk, holding your precious laptop close to him as he drinks some cheap beer. You keep a level head, knowing he just wants a reaction out of you. “Where’s your friend?”

Straight to the point, as always. Jeonghan smirks and whispers something to the boy next to him. His friend disappears into the crowd and returns with someone else minutes later. It’s a cute guy with shining eyes and an adorable smile.

“I love you.” He blurts once he sees you, a blush suffusing his entire face. “You’re so pretty and amazing—!”

He’s drunk, you can tell, but he also seems sincere. It makes you think maybe that rat Jeonghan has actually done this as some twisted way to make his friend’s wish come true. Even if that’s not the case, you could never be mean to someone who supports you—even if that person is friends with someone like Jeonghan.

“Let’s take a picture.” You say with a smile that’s surprisingly easy to conjure.

Naively, you think that Jeonghan will give you the thing you cherish the most after you comply to his wishes. After his friend leaves, he makes no move to give you your laptop. You should’ve expected it, but it still infuriates you.

“I can’t believe you actually came and did what I asked. It makes me wonder what you're hiding in here.” Jeonghan slurs with a smirk that makes you want to throttle him. “I bet you regret acting the way you have.”

You know he’s talking about the things you’ve done to him as soon as you saw him again, and you resist the urge to scream at him that this is nothing compared to what he did to you. Both of you are too focused on each other to see the camera aimed at the rapidly unfolding fight.

“Just give it back, idiot.” You seethe, trying to keep your composure because things are on the verge of getting messy.

“I’m surprised that top model Y/F/N still has this shitty model. Maybe you should think about upgrading.”

Jeonghan laughs again and tauntingly holds out your laptop. As you step forward to grab it, the sleek device slips out of his hand. Everything seems to go in slow motion as you watch the laptop hit the floor and break open. The screen completely detached from the keyboard, and despite being turned off, you can see the cracks that covered half the screen.

You can hear laughter and immature ohs filling up the space. All rational thoughts are ejected from your mind as you grab a cup from a random party-goer and throw it in Jeonghan’s face. The crowd seems to go wild, but that’s not what you’re focused on. Jeonghan doesn’t look shocked or angry. In fact, he looks a lot like the cat who ate the canary.

You realize too late that the guy from before is pointing his phone at you. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach, but you easily mask your panic and go to pick up the pieces of your broken laptop. The night ends with you running out of the house and a video of you throwing beer in Jeonghan’s face being uploaded for the world to see.

This leaves Jeonghan feeling very pleased with himself.

When he first found out you were going to attend the college he worked so hard to make sure you didn’t get into, it felt like he was living in his worst nightmare. But now with you getting backlash for throwing beer in his face, he’s never felt better. His parents had even reached out to him to get dinner and discuss him moving back in.

“I’m literally never talking to you again.” Soonyoung glares at him with deep resentment. “How could you use me to set up Y/F/N? She probably hates me now.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes as Seungkwan sympathetically pats his friend on the back. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she hates Jeonghan way more.”

Wonwoo snorts while Soonyoung’s pout gets more sulky by the second. While anyone could agree that Jeonghan’s actions were petty and borderline sociopathic, most of the frat was just glad to have him go back to normal. His temperament had been exponentially worse since you decided to finish the semester in person.

The victory, however, is short-lived.

Two days after the video Jeonghan’s frat brother initially posted, you post a video of your own. The caption was nothing short of absolving: Guess he’s mad I didn’t want to endorse the products his daddy tests on animals.

It’s a factor Jeonghan didn’t consider. Someone else had filmed the entire thing from the part where he’s taunting you about your laptop to the part where he so clearly drops it on purpose and you react by throwing beer in his face. It’s almost comedic how fast public opinion changes. The stocks to his father’s company plummet not even a full hour after you post the video, and Jeonghan is getting way more backlash than you did.

When he sees his dad blowing up his phone, he knows this is the final nail in the coffin that will sever the ties with his family.

Meanwhile, you’re not holding up much better. In spite of managing to spin the situation in your favor, your agency is still displeased that you were involved in a scandal at all. Not to mention that Jihoon is clearly disappointed in you. It’s to be expected since he’s the one who helped you convince everyone that taking classes in person wouldn’t be a problem.

“You told me you didn’t want anything to do with Yoon Jeonghan.” Jihoon reminds you two stand in your living room. “Why did you go there in the first place when you’re the one always saying he's some sort of evil mastermind?”

You frown at him, feeling tears of frustration begin to gather in your eyes. “He took the laptop you gave me! How could I let him keep it when you bought it on the salary you had back then?”

Jihoon’s features soften instantly. He lets out a deep sigh and pulls you into his arms. So that’s why. Even he had failed to remember how much that old laptop meant to you. It makes him smile as you quietly sniffle into his shoulder. Jihoon thinks back to when he bought you the laptop and how grateful you had been. He can still remember clearly how you told him that he was the only person to ever believe in your dreams.

“I’m sorry.” He says as he gently pats your back. “I forgot how much that laptop means to you, but I’ll buy you a new one, okay? I should’ve gotten you a new one a long time ago, anyway. Thanks to you and Mingyu, my salary has increased.”

Even after he gets a tearful laugh, Jihoon wonders if going to college is really what’s best for you. He’s the last person who would want to stop you from chasing your real dream, but he can’t shake the feeling that your war with Yoon Jeonghan is far from over.

Jeonghan is an easy going guy who can laugh at his own misfortune, but he really doesn’t see the humor in you single-handedly ruining his life. His friends disagree. Especially Josh, who came down to visit him after years of being abroad.

“I don’t know why you’re acting all surprised. If I was Y/N, I’d try to ruin your life too.” Josh says before he takes a bite of his food. “Actually, I’m surprised that she didn’t try sooner. Especially after what happened at the awards ceremony.”

Soonyoung and Seungkwan’s curiosity is piqued upon hearing that last statement. They lean forward, abandoning all interest in the exquisite food in front of them. In the rendition of Jeonghan’s backstory of the supermodel that hates him, there was no mention of an awards ceremony.

“What happened at the awards ceremony?” Wonwoo asks immediately, not understanding why Jeonghan genuinely looks like he doesn’t know what Josh is talking about.

The atmosphere has quickly changed, and Jeonghan can’t figure out why Josh is making that day seem like it was something more than it was. But there was this feeling in the pit of his stomach that kept growing bigger and bigger. Had something else happened that he didn’t know about?

Josh notices the tense silence that’s suddenly surrounding the table and clears his throat. “I mean, technically, Jeonghan is the one who plotted to ruin Y/N’s life first. He’s the reason her mom went all psycho on her at our end of the year awards ceremony.”

The silence from before gets thicker and more uncomfortable the longer it lasts. Jeonghan looks like he’s just heard some life altering revelation while Josh is looking as clueless as the rest of the boys.

“Wait—” Josh puts down his fork, eyes wide with disbelief. “Why are you acting like you don’t know?”

“I...” Jeonghan swallows thickly. All he remembers from that day is that vacant expression you had on your face when he won the scholarship. The one that still makes him feel like someone is reaching inside his chest and squeezing his heart.

“So what exactly happened?” Seungkwan asks since his friend can’t seem to even think straight.

“We were all mean to her.” Josh admits with a sigh. “I mean, she’s the daughter of a failed businessman, plus she had beef with Hannie since birth. It was too easy to give her shit and fuck with her.”

His friends are uncharacteristically quiet, and it’s so uncomfortable that Jeonghan just wants to die. But not before he hears about what Josh meant about the awards ceremony.

“When Jeonghan found out she applied for the Merit Scholarship, he applied for it too. His dad is friends with the guy who was head of the scholarship foundation, so of course he was going to get it. We all thought it’d be pretty funny to see how her parents would react when she lost.”

Jeonghan’s friends give him very judgmental stares that he honestly deserves.

“But I didn't get to.” Jeonghan recalls quietly. “Y/N and her mom left the auditorium right after, and I had to stay behind to take a bunch of pictures for the school’s newsletter.”

There’s another tense silence where Joshua looks like he has some sort of dilema. He wonders if telling Jeonghan after so long is only going to make things worse.

“You said Y/N’s mom went all psycho on her.” Wonwoo says. “How is that Jeonghan’s fault?”

“Aside Y/N would’ve gotten that scholarship if it wasn’t for Jeonghan, her mom was mad because she lost to him in particular. As soon as they got outside she started yelling at her about how useless she was. She even slapped her in front of everyone and basically disowned her."

“Damn.” Is all Soonyoung is able to say before turning to Jeonghan. “I would hate you too.”

Jeonghan can’t say anything because he’s thinking the exact same thing.

After a very eye-opening lunch, Jeonghan realizes now that you won’t stop your revenge until you’ve completely destroyed him. This sends him into a panic and makes him come up with a plan that will hopefully knock you down a few pegs.

Jeonghan enlists the help of your stepbrother, Seokmin. Unbeknownst to maybe the kindest guy he’s ever met, he helps Jeonghan lure not only you, but also your dad to the silent auction your university is hosting. Getting you two to arrive at the same times is a bit tricky, but Jeonghan manages to pull it off after telling Seokmin to give your father a certain time.

All Jeonghan has to do is linger by the entrance and wait for you to arrive. Which you do, and in a beautiful dress, no less. It’s almost a pity that your night is going to be ruined in approximately five seconds. He’s far enough for you to not notice him yet and close enough to hear your father call out to you from behind.

“Y/N.”

You freeze at the sound of your name being spoken. It had been years, but you would never forget that voice. You turn around slowly, feeling an onslaught of emotions hit you like a truck when you see your father standing in front of you.

There’s a tension between you and your father that Jeonghan recognizes immediately. For some reason, it makes him feel uncomfortable rather than satisfied. He's not sure why that is, but he can't stop watching. It’s unexpected because despite knowing that you were estranged from him, he didn’t expect it to be like this.

“How have you been?” Your father is hesitant in his movements as he steps closer to you.

You hate feeling the way you currently do; like a little girl who’s powerless in front of her father. The feeling is worse because he’s staring at you like he never abandoned you to start another life that didn’t involve you.

“You’ve seen the articles.” You reply coldly. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”

The tense atmosphere affects even Jeonghan, and he can’t help but start to feel a little regret because this is not what he had in mind at all. It’s not funny nor does it satiate the vengeful side you always brought out in him. Right now, the situation feels like some sort of erroneous event that should’ve never happened in the first place.

“I was pleased to see what you’ve done to the Yoon family.” He genuinely sounds proud, but you’re not twelve years old anymore so it doesn’t mean anything to you. All it does is make you feel sick. “Honestly, I never thought you’d be able to do it. You surprised me.”

Jeonghan can’t laugh. It should be funny, but it's not. Your father is giving you a back-handed compliment despite being one of the top models in the industry and someone who has the potential to be a global star. Instead of that sweet feeling he’s always gotten from messing with you, all he feels is disgust.

“I’m sure your mom is pleased as well.” He says awkwardly after you don’t say anything. “How is she, by the way?”

The last thing you want to talk about is her, but his ignorance to the feelings you harbor for your mom actually makes you scoff in bewilderment. Emotions you thought you’d gotten rid of long ago start to push at the surface and gather at the center of your chest. You hate that you can’t shove them away and pretend they’re not affecting you the way they are.

Jeonghan flinches when your next words come out in the phonic form of ice. “You know I haven’t talked to her since she kicked me out of her house.”

There’s this long pause where the entire vicinity seems to have gone as cold as your voice. The candor of your words make Jeonghan’s jaw drop. An intense discomfort seeps into his veins and strikes him right in the chest. The story Joshua told him is undoubtedly true, and now he’s starting to realize he was the one who put that domino effect into place.

“I would’ve helped you if you let me—”

Your dad stops talking when you start laughing. It’s not a joyful or amused laugh. It’s cold and resentful. You almost can’t believe the audacity that your father has. His selective memory has always pissed you off, but now he was crossing the line.

“Why are you here?” You demand, unwilling to prolong this unexpected encounter. “This is an alumni event.”

“Seokmin invited me.” His answer shouldn’t have disappointed you, but for some infuriating reason it still did. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

There’s so many things that you want to say. All these years you thought about how it would all play out if you saw him again, but now that it’s actually happening, you can’t say anything that you wanted to.

“The actions you’ve taken against the Yoon family have impressed me so far.” He says like you’ll be happy about his praise. “I thought it would be appropriate to say this to you. That’s all.”

When you see that familiar contempt and unimpressed expression on your father’s face, you can’t help but think that you should’ve never left your house to come out. The figure in your peripheral vision hasn’t moved, and you can only assume he’s waiting for you to react the way he wants.

The silence that looms is tense and uncomfortable. Even Jeonghan can feel it from where he’s watching. It’s strange. The scene in front of him should be satisfying, but it’s not. Not even close.

“What is it that you want to say, then?”

“I know for a fact that Yoon Jeonghan is planning to use a large part of his trust to buy your rival agency. I’ll loan you a substantial amount of money to counter that offer and steal it from him.”

Now, there’s not much that can catch Jeonghan off guard, but what the fuck. His intentions and deals were strictly confidential. How was it possible that your father knew?

“I’m sure you know the reason this chance is so important.”

That anticlimactic moment makes Jeonghan pause. He vaguely recognizes the sick feeling in his stomach as one of realization. The scene in front of him was nothing more then a distorted reflection of his own relationship with his father.

In the time he hadn’t seen you, you’d gotten good at schooling your reactions, but now anyone can see how helpless you feel. That expression reminds him of how he felt when his own father told him to buy the agency and find a model that was capable of taking the crown you’ve had for the last two years. It was never about Jeonghan’s happiness, it was all about his dad’s vanity and ego. He could see now that was still the case for you as well.

“You want me to humiliate him and his family one more time.”

Your father smirks. “Now you’re getting it. You need to prove to everyone—especially that boy and his family—that you’ve always been better.”

All the things you’ve done to Jeonghan come to the forefront of your mind and you suddenly feel more sick and disgusted than ever. This entire time you inadvertently pushed your obsessive father’s agenda because you were still angry about something that happened years ago. There’s this tight knot in your throat that suddenly makes it hard to speak, but you manage anyway.

“When are you going to stop using me for your petty rivalry?” You demand angrily. “I’m not going to be the kind of person who steps on other people for no reason.”

Your father scoffs, furious eyes filled with disappointment. “No reason?”

His laughter that follows is cold and manic. “You think this is just about my dislike for that family? No. This is about who you’re going to turn out to be. Are you going to be weak? Swayed by every sob story that crosses your path? How do you expect to take over my company if you’re so spineless?”

Jeonghan doesn’t feel any satisfaction like he expects. Instead he feels this ugly, jagged feeling deep in his chest. He feels like he's watching some sort of reenactment of him and his own father.

“Don’t forget. I have no use for such a pathetic daughter.”

The silence feels like it’s going to last forever, and in the stillness, Jeonghan feels sorry for you. This entire time he had been so stuck on his own turmoil that he forgot you were also the verge of being crushed by the weight of your family’s expectations. Just like his own father, your dad clearly had no regard for anyone’s feelings—even his own child’s. The test of time hadn’t changed him at all. Unfortunately, the same could be said for his father. It was disheartening to know that you were both nothing more than pawns in their childish game of revenge.

“That’s funny because right now the pathetic one is you.” Jeonghan feels oddly proud at how cutthroat you sound right now. “Don’t act like that company is something you can give away, you know, since it belongs to your wife and not you.”

Your truthful words finally manage to silence him, but you can’t stop there. “Plus, I know you’d rather give everything you have to Seokmin anyway, right? I mean, he is the son you’ve always wanted.”

“Don’t blame him for my mistakes, Y/N.”

“God—When are you going to open your fucking eyes and realize I don’t blame anyone else but you!?” You suddenly yell, unable to keep stifling your feelings.

It’s quiet for a moment before your father speaks again, his voice cold and calculating. “What about the Yoon family? Don’t you blame them? Aren’t they the ones who crushed your dreams?”

Jeonghan holds his breath despite knowing your answer. Of course you did. There was no way you didn’t. If the roles were reversed, he would, too.

You did blame that fucking family for a lot, but never for what your parents did to you. They had nothing to do with the fact that your mom and dad aren’t worthy of being parents. Also, if you truly thought back on it (which you had—countless times), your parents were the one who destroyed your dreams before anyone else could.

“Why would I blame anyone else for what you and your ex wife did to me? You two are the ones who decided I was useless because I couldn’t get you back to where you wanted to be.” You say, voice void of any perceptible emotion.

The silence is thick and heavy with tension. You swallow thickly and belatedly remember that you’re being watched. By this time, you imagine Jeonghan has enough material to humiliate you accordingly, but you’re too fucking exhausted to care. The petty actions you’ve taken so far were justified in your eyes, but even so, you wish you had just let it go. Talking to the man who abandoned you and only came looking for you when he deemed you as useful let you see that.

“Just leave.” Dad. You almost say it like he’s worthy of being that. “Do what you want with this sick obsession you have with the Yoon family, but leave me out of it because I’m done being used for your petty revenge.”

Your father scoffs. “I knew you didn’t have what it takes. I’ll go, but I’ll leave you with this: Yoon Jeonghan’s father knows his son will stop at nothing to destroy you. He was bragging about how his son was going to ruin you with this agency he’s going to buy. Think about that next time you want to be the better person.”

With that, he walks away from you, possibly for the last time.

Despite feeling numb, there’s still angry tears poking the back of your eyes. You let out a shaky sigh, knowing now isn’t the time to cry like you want. “Are you going keep hiding in the shadows like you didn’t set this up?”

Jeonghan’s blood runs cold, and for a moment he contemplates on running. He’s not exactly sure how you found out or even knew that he was watching, but there was no point in pretending. As usual, you knew everything.

You turn around, face still a mess of emotions. Two hours before, you might’ve cared about losing face in front of Jeonghan, but that was no longer the case. No matter what actions he took against you after this, you were done feeding into this game. As soon as the semester was over, you were going back to your normal life and leave behind all these shitty memories.

The expression on your face is eerily similar to the one from when he took your scholarship—a look of defeated resignation. Jeonghan figures that he gets a similar expression on his face when he fights with his dad. That suffocated look is one he knows all too well.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

Jeonghan is reminded of that first day of senior year when he saw you again. In that split second as you're gazing at him with crystal-like tears shining in your pretty eyes, he makes a decision.

“Be my girlfriend.”

His words hang in the air, and you can only look at Jeonghan like he’s lost his mind. You two stare at each other, until you finally manage to form some words through your bewilderment. “What? What are you—?”

“Be my girlfriend.” He says with more conviction. “And help me get revenge on our parents.”

You blink, feeling more confused than ever. Briefly, you wonder if the intensity of your emotions has driven you into some sort of delirium. Either that, or Jeonghan really has lost his mind.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He actually pouts at you. “You said you were done being used by your dad. I feel the same way. I’m tired of only being useful for their sick obsession.”

Maybe it’s the exhaustion you feel from all the emotions you’ve ran dry or maybe it’s because the little snake actually sounds convincing, but either way you agree.

“Fine, but I have conditions.”

Realistically, Jeonghan knew that (fake) dating you wouldn’t be easy, but he never expected to be put on blast like he has been—least of all by you. He’s waiting outside your last class, trying to pretend like he’s not furious.

“Angel face.” Jeonghan’s smile is deceptively calm and pretty. “We need to talk.”

You grimace at him as he loops his arm through yours and begins walking you out of the building towards his sleek car. “Yeah, we do because what the hell is that pet name? It makes you sound like some middle-aged creep.”

Jeonghan laughs stiffly, not wanting to attract the wrong kind of attention. People were already skeptical about your relationship, and he couldn’t let his brilliant plan fail before it got to the good part. He manages to keep his cool and even opens the passenger door for you, gently stroking your head as you get in. It’s almost annoying how good he is at acting affectionate.

“You’re breaking your own rules.” Jeonghan scowls as he starts the car.

You already know he’s talking about your interview that went public an hour ago. His deep frown makes you smirk. “Don’t be mad at me, angel face.”

Jeonghan’s annoyance is oddly soothed by your cute laughter, and he briefly wonders if he’s starting to go insane. His friends would likely tell him that he is. Meanwhile, you’re also wondering if you’re going insane because the surly pout Jeonghan has on his face isn’t as off-putting as it usually is.

“I did what was necessary for the plan.” You explain, trying not to sound like you’re mocking him. “Now everyone likes us together. See?”

Jeonghan finally looks at your phone when he gets to a stoplight. Even just skimming the comments under the article, he can see the tides beginning to shift in his favor. He looks back at the road with a pout. Sure, everything was in the name of revenge, but he wasn’t sure if the humiliation was worth it.

“I guess, but... I don’t think you had to say that I cried while begging for your forgiveness.”

You give him an annoyed look. “Honestly, that’s the least you could do to repent for everything that you’ve done to me. Just consider yourself lucky that I let everything slide due to our mutual need to get revenge.”

Jeonghan scoffs, but says nothing else the entire time he drives to the restaurant he’s been dying to eat at for weeks. The reservation he made two weeks ago was at the beginning of next month, but you had managed to get one within minutes. It was one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, and he had heard nothing but good things.

Your hands slips into his easily as you two walk into the two MICHELIN star restaurant. Jeonghan tries not to think about how holding your soft hand doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as he thought it would. Instead he focuses on the extravagant interior of the restaurant. He’s seen the pictures online, but they didn’t capture the essence of the place at all.

He notices the looks you’re getting from the staff when you say your last name to the hostess. Unlike the attention you get at school, the other guests and staff are subtle with the looks they’re giving you as you two are guided into the restaurant. It’s a different type of uncomfortable, but Jeonghan notices that you don’t seem to be fazed by it at all.

“Hannie.” You call so affectionately that Jeonghan has to stop himself from gaping at you. “I booked one of the tables on the balcony, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No.” He says, feeling like he’s in a trance as you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

As you two near the balcony, he sees the group of people sitting at one of the tables. Your hand tightens around his, but your face remains clean of any emotions. Jeonghan isn’t sure why he softly caresses your thumb in a comforting way. Maybe it’s because he knows that despite wanting revenge, executing it didn’t mean all the unpleasant feelings that came with seeing your father would magically go away.

“How’d you know he’d be here?” Jeonghan wonders after you two are seated.

You hum softly, thinking of a way to say something so deprecating without sounding completely pitiful. Eventually, you decide you don’t need to be so cautious because Jeonghan has already seen all the ugly parts of your life you never wanted anyone to see.

“It’s his birthday, today.” Your gaze flickers past his shoulder for a split second. “He always has this intimate dinner with his family before throwing his actual party. Seokmin mentioned that he wanted to have the dinner here this year.”

Jeonghan doesn’t have time to process how detached you seem because you give him a wicked smirk. “I know you can’t see, but he looks fucking livid right now.”

He’s not sure why he feels relieved when you start laughing like you weren’t feeling suffocated a few seconds ago. It makes him wonder if you’re aware that he can still tell what you’re feeling. Jeonghan had an innate talent for it since childhood, and now it seemed to be more fine-tuned than ever.

“Then, should we take it a step further?”

You give him a questioning gaze. The confusion you feel slowly turns into an emotion that feels somewhat familiar yet foreign all at the same time. It’s something you can’t pinpoint or name, but it’s definitely there as Jeonghan puts a velvet box on the table. Something inside your chest jerks when you realize that he went out and bought you a gift to help you get the reaction you were looking for.

Jeonghan slides the box over to you, a cocky smirk on his face. “Open it, darling. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

You don’t comment on the pet name (especially since you like it way better than the other one) as you do what he says. The box contains a beautiful necklace that looks like it could be from a man in love (or one set on getting revenge).

“It’s beautiful.” You say with a smile as the feeling in your chest jerks again. “Want to put it on me?”

Jeonghan immediately stands from his seat and walks around the table. He’s good at keeping his eyes trained on you, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the three heads clearly staring in the direction of your table. Jeonghan takes the necklace from the box and bends down to clip it into place. Your scent invades his senses, and it makes it way too easy to admire the way the diamonds shine against your skin.

You feel soft lips press against your cheek before gentle words are whispered into your ear. “It suits you just like I knew it would.”

There’s a loud thumping in the air that only you two can seem to hear.

Jeonghan’s hands are holding on to your shoulders as you look up at him. The thumping seems to get louder. “Thank you for my gift, love.”

On impulse more than anything, your (fake) boyfriend swoops down to press a lingering kiss on your lips. He pulls back, feeling an awkward warmth crawling up his neck. You don’t look surprised or disgusted, instead you give him a fond smile that seems more genuine the longer he looks at it. Jeonghan takes his seat again, the infuriated man tables behind you long forgotten by either of you.

There’s a shift in your relationship that night. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Neither you nor Jeonghan really take notice. All you two are aware of is that playing pretend isn’t as awful as you both thought it would be. Expectedly, you scheming deviants have the time of your life playing with this new dynamic there is between you.

Jeonghan has become overly familiarized with your apartment by now. He’s waiting on your nice couch, watching as your team finishes working on your hair and makeup. It’s interesting to see just how much effort goes into looking absolutely flawless for all the cameras. Before this, he didn’t realize certain types of makeup and hair styles photographed better.

“Flawless as always!” Your makeup artist squeals as he takes videos and pictures to document his handiwork.

You don’t look exhausted physically, but Jeonghan still worries that you might already be drained. He knows he would be, especially because your manager keeps reminding you of all the people you need to get a photo with and at what time you need to be home by because you have two different shoots in the morning.

Jeonghan watches silently as your stylist follows you to your room to help you put on the custom dress Wen Junhui has made especially for you to wear to the new Givenchy pop-up shop opening. From what you’ve said, it’s supposed to match the suit he has on—which was also custom made for him by the famous designer.

When you step back into the living room wearing the fitted dress, Jeonghan feels like he’s staring at a living goddess. He can’t take his eyes off you as Jihoon snaps some photos of you. Being starstruck is something he didn’t think was actually possible, but now he understands why Soonyoung still can’t act normal when he brings you around.

“You look amazing.” Jeonghan says breathlessly, still completely entranced by your appearance.

“So do you. I’ll have to give Jun my thanks for making us the hottest couple at this event.”

After a few pictures together for your socials, you two set off to the pop-up shop. The event is expectedly large and grand. So many important people had gathered, but he only cared about the one person who he knew would be there. Jeonghan is quick to spot his father. Ironically, he’s talking with the man who designed the suit he's wearing.

You’re only a little taken aback when Jeonghan wraps his arms around you while you’re talking to a newcomer model you met last year during fashion week. It’s all you can do to keep talking normally as he rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands gently caress the material of your dress. He’s pressing himself closer to you like he wants to mold your bodies together.

When you’re finally left alone, you turn your head to give him a questioning look. You only get a pleased expression in return. The adorably goofy look makes your heart flutter with unwarranted affection.

“I’m clingy.” Jeonghan says bluntly. “And as my girlfriend, you’re obligated to indulge me.”

Your laugh is airy and filled with endearment because honestly, you don’t hate the faux affection. His embrace isn’t uncomfortable. Oddly, it makes the usual anxiousness you get at these events melt away. It’s only an added bonus to what you actually came by to get.

His father looks a lot like yours did. It’s almost funny because it takes less than a second after he sees you two together for him to come over and demand to speak to his son alone. You almost decline for Jeonghan, but you stop yourself when you remember the clause that states neither of you will interfere with family matters other than indirectly making them angry with your relationship.

Your (fake) boyfriend isn’t gone for long, but he’s clearly upset. Instead of letting it visibly show, he indulges in more champagne and mingling. It’s only when he starts slurring his words that you decide it’s time to go.

You're not sure why you don’t take him back to his frat house. It would’ve been easier and less of a hassle, but you found yourself unwilling to part with Jeonghan when he was clearly so distraught and incoherent. You force feed him water before laying him down in your guest bedroom.

“My dad’s such an asshole.” Jeonghan sighs, arm thrown over his eyes as you take off his shoes for him.

You hum in agreement, finally looking back at his face. His cheeks and neck are suffused with color, and you wonder what exactly his father said to make him this upset. It makes you wonder if he was starting to regret doing this entire thing with you.

“Don’t think about him anymore.” You whisper, not sure why that last thought is so upsetting. “Just get some sleep, okay?”

You go to get up, but are stopped by a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist. Jeonghan has moved his arm and is now looking directly at you. His eyes are shining with so many emotions that you recognize, but somehow can’t seem to decipher enough to tell what exactly he’s feeling. The intensity of his stare makes somehow makes you feel exposed.

“Stay with me.” His voice is more vulnerable than you expect. “Please.”

It’s like your legs move on their own as they sit you back at his side. He doesn’t make a move to let go of your wrist and you don’t think to shake off his touch. The silence is full of unspoken words, and you only wait for him to say what’s clearly bothering him.

“I don’t hate you.”

His words are surprising, mostly because they’re something you never thought you’d hear. Jeonghan doesn’t give you a chance to say anything because he keeps talking. “I don’t know why, but I can’t hate you the way I’m supposed to.” His gaze goes to the ceiling as if he’s trying to sort out all the thoughts you can see running through his mind. “I never could.”

“I don’t hate you either.” You tell him honestly.

“But I ruined your life.” Jeonghan frowns as if he’s recalling every horrible thing he ever did to you.

“I ruined yours.” You counter lightheartedly.

Jeonghan laughs a bit and closes his eyes. “Hope you can forgive me for real someday.”

He starts snoring before you can tell him that you already have.

“They look so cute together.”

This phrase was one Jeonghan got used to hearing since you two started dating, and he hates it. Not because it’s unpleasant to hear (it’s not), but because half the time that phrase was being used to describe you and Kim Mingyu. The two girls in his financial analysis class are squealing about your most recent photo shoot which included some shots with your model friend.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you.” Seungkwan laughs when he sees the look on his friend's face.

Jeonghan only rolls his eyes and pretends that Seungkwan’s words don’t affect him the way they do. Because there’s no way he’s jealous. How could he be jealous of someone that was nothing more than a coworker? And there's no reason for him to be jealous even if that wasn’t the case because he doesn’t have any feelings for you.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when you tell him you’re going to have to reschedule your weekly dinner because of that stupidly tall model everyone ships you with. Instead of letting it go like he should’ve done, Jeonghan reminds you that having dinner out in public once a week is part of your deal.

It’s almost cute the way he does it. Jeonghan says it like a whiny child that’s begging for attention. So you promise him to meet him the next day, but he’s not having it. Jeonghan insists that you come to his frat’s party after you’re done. Which you do, and you don’t know what to think on what you stumble on. Jeonghan is absolutely hammered, but he’s also really happy to see you.

“Darling!” He yells, abandoning the game of beer pong he’s currently winning.

You’re surprised when he races toward you and crushes you with a hug. The wolf whistles and cat calls fade into the background as Jeonghan pulls you along with him to sit on the couch, not caring for his partner’s loud protest for him to finish the game. His grip is strong as he tugs you on his lap. The grin he gives you when you easily comply is so pretty it hurts.

“You look so pretty.” Jeonghan is talking to you in pout, and you think you might melt at how cute he looks. “Can’t believe you went out with another guy looking so good.”

You let out a shocked laugh. He sounds like a jealous boyfriend, and for some reason it doesn’t repulse or annoy you. It does confuse you, though.

“I can’t believe you were out here getting drunk with sorority girls while I had a business dinner with Mingyu and Jihoon.”

His laugh is so cute, and the way he hugs you tighter and burrows his face into your neck is even cuter. You notice the lingering eyes, and it reminds you that the affection you’re receiving isn’t real. It also makes you think about how there’s really no need for him to be acting like this. There’s no reporters around or anyone that would run back to your families to let them know how “in love” you two are.

And yet, you don’t feel like pushing him off.

“Let’s get you to bed.” You say, trying to act like your heart isn’t pounding as if it’s on the verge of imploding.

“To your house?” He looks up, hooded eyes looking at you with an emotion that seems familiar, but foreign-looking in his eyes.

“No.” You force yourself to say despite wanting to give into his pleading stare. “Your bed is upstairs, silly.”

Jeonghan leans more into you, letting out disappointed hum that tickles your skin. “Want to stay with you.”

You’re pretty sure you’re going to regret what you do next, but you for some reason you can’t explain to yourself, you’re unwilling to leave him alone when he clearly wants to stay with you. So you decide it’s easier to take him upstairs as he drunkenly points out where his room is. You plop down on his bed, surprised that Jeonghan hasn’t let go of you once the entire time.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” You say as he shoves his face in your neck.

“Stay forever.”

It’s stupid the way your heart interprets the words even though your brain knows he only meant stay for tonight. You’re more worried that you wish he meant it in the way he said it.

In the morning, you wake up to see that you’re alone. The discomfort you feel is eased when the door opens minutes later to reveal Jeonghan with several shopping bags in hand. You spot the familiar Valentino and Christian Louboutin bags almost instantly.

“You’re awake.” The smile he gives you is sleepy and tired, but so damn attractive.

“You went shopping.” You say, trying to understand how he got up before you. “Don’t you have a hangover?”

“I do.” He admits, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “But you need fresh clothes after you shower, so I went out to buy you some. I also got you some other stuff from the drug store.”

You don’t know how to process the fact that your fake boyfriend went out to buy you all the things you need. Especially since it was clear he made more than one stop. Jeonghan doesn’t seem to notice just how shocked you are as he places the bags on his bed and insists you look through them. You do as he says, feeling a intruding warmth fill your chest.

“Why’d you get me shoes?” You wonder when you open the Louboutin box.

“The shoes you came with don’t go with the dress I got you.”

His words make your heart thump with adoration that can’t be stifled. Heat spreads across your face as you hastily thank him before hurrying into the bathroom with the toiletries he bought for you so he can’t see just how much his actions affected you. It’s hard to ignore all the emotions gathering in your chest. Jeonghan is an exceptionally good actor, but you keep wondering why he's going this far. What’s worse is that you can’t say you hate it. Actually, you probably like it a little too much.

When you’re done showering, you dry your hair and try on the dress Jeonghan bought you. It’s snug against your frame, and you have to marvel at the fact that he actually did a great job choosing your size. You tentatively step out of the bathroom to see Jeonghan sitting on the bed occupied with his phone. It feels like the air is knocked out of him when he looks up to see you dressed in something he picked out and bought for you.

“Want to get breakfast?”

You try to ignore the fact that you’re playing a dangerous game by blurring the lines you’ve drawn when you say yes.

“Should we breakup before I go to Milan or after I come back from Paris?”

Your question is so casual that Jeonghan almost thinks he didn’t hear you right. He looks up from his phone to see you pulling out a suitcase from your closet. It’s almost painful that you don’t seem to realize how much your words have affected him.

“Breakup?” He repeats, throat going dry and heart sinking.

The way you nod normally like he doesn’t feel sick to his stomach has him reeling. “Yeah. Our parents are mad enough now, and the semester is almost over so I’ll start taking online classes again.”

Your reasoning makes sense (maybe a little too much), but Jeonghan really can’t accept what you’re saying. All that registers is the fact that you’re leaving and planning on having nothing to do with him anymore.

“You’re not coming back?”

You wonder if he actually sounds disappointed or if it’s just you wishing that he does. Either way, you can’t let him know that you feel like your heart is being ripped out because you’re asking to plan your breakup. “My agency only agreed to let me take classes in person for a semester. After the scandal I had with you, they don’t want me coming back again.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

You try to pretend like his words don’t evoke an emotion out of you that you should definitely not feel for him.

“And I don’t want to breakup.”

The silence is heavy. It isn’t easy to not interpret his words as a plea to stay because he has feelings for you. Especially since you’re sure that’s not what he means. “If it’s about your dad we can—”

“This has nothing to do with my dad.” Jeonghan says, frustrated that you’re not understanding how he's feeling. “This is about you and me—about us.”

It’s strange to think that there is an us when it comes to you and Jeonghan now, but he can’t let you fly across the world without letting you know how he feels.

“You have to know that this isn’t fake to me.” He says, more nervous and determined than ever.

You can’t say anything. Not because you think it’s some joke or that he’s not being sincere, but because you can’t believe these feelings that had been flourishing since you two decided to let go of the past are being reciprocated.

“I know you probably still hate me, and I don’t blame you if you do. Back then, I ruined your life because I was insecure and wanted to make my dad proud. And now because of me, you won’t be able to come back to school even though going to this university has been your dream since we were kids.” Jeonghan soldiers on even though every single emotion is trying to peak through. “I’m an idiot to realize it so late, and I’m a bigger one to be apologizing to you only now.”

Jeonghan walks toward you until he’s directly in front of you. Just as you hope he seals his apology with a kiss, he falls to his knees, bunny-like eyes looking at you imploringly.

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m going to ask for your forgiveness anyway. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done to you since you came back into my life.” He’s close to tears as he grabs your hands. “I’ll do anything for your forgiveness. Just tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.”

Your heart is thumping so erratically that it feels like it’s on the verge of exploding. Yoon Jeonghan is on his knees in front of you, eyes wet and pleading for you to forgive him. The onslaught of emotions you feel are scrambling your brain to the point where you can hardly think. “Hannie...”

The nickname makes him hopeful that maybe he can earn your forgiveness. He grips your hands a little tighter and gently uses his thumbs to caress the back of your hands.

“I don’t hate you, and I already forgave a long time ago.” You confess with a smile, heart still pounding.

Jeonghan stands and crushes you with a hug, body sagging in relief to know that you don’t hate him. He closes his eyes as he buries his face into your neck. The anxiety he was feeling fades away as he basks in your embrace.

“I’m sorry too.” Your apology is slightly muffled. “I was wrong to make your life a living hell, and I hope you can also forgive me.”

Jeonghan hugs you tighter. “I already have. It’s not like I didn't deserve it.”

You two laugh a bit until you pull back to look at your (fake?) boyfriend. “You really don’t want to be away from me?”

Jeonghan pouts and nods. He briefly thinks he might have to hang a sign around his neck for you to realize he never wants you to leave his side.

“Why?”

You need to hear him say it. This way, you’ll know for sure that you’re not just lucid dreaming.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

Jeonghan never thought he could miss someone as much as he missed you. He’s surprised that it can feel like you’ve been away from him for years when in reality it’s only been a week. Not that it matters because he finally has you in his arms again. And he plans on showering you with love before you have to leave for Paris.

“I missed you so much.”

You feel breathless when Jeonghan’s lips mold against yours, not giving you a chance to say that you missed him too. He’s nestled between your legs as his lips devour yours, not caring that he’s been in the same position for the last fifteen minutes. Jeonghan can’t get enough of you, and he’s only gotten a small taste.

The whine you let out when Jeonghan’s tongue starts to play with yours is so hot that he can feel his cock twitch in his pants. One of his hands trails down your body to grab a handful of your ass before smoothing over your thigh to hook your leg over his hip. You moan into his mouth as your core grinds into his hardening dick.

Finally, you pull away from him, pupils blown wide with lust. “Missed you so much, Hannie.”

Your boyfriend gently grinds down in order to hear another one of your sensual moans. His dark eyes are staring at you with so much desire that your cunt starts to pulse at the thought of having him carnally.

“Let me show you how much I missed you.”

Jeonghan is patient as he undresses you. It’s a contrast to the way he quickly strips his own clothes. You know it’s because your dress is a custom gift from Wen Junhui, and it makes your heart warm and cunt drip with more slick at the thought that he actually remembered.

When he settles his head between your legs and spreads you open, you feel a bashful heat course through your body. Jeonghan is staring straight at your core with the most heated gaze you’ve ever received from a man. “Fuck. I knew you were pretty everywhere.”

Jeonghan’s gives your pussy a harsh slap, earning a surprised moan from you. He soothes the sting by gently rubbing his fingers against your clit, loving how wet your pussy keeps getting. Any coherent response you’re thinking of is quick to disappear when Jeonghan dives into your awaiting cunt. His tongue laps and slobbers all over your drooling lips, messily making out with the heaven between your legs.

The way Jeonghan is groaning into your pussy in absolute pleasure makes you grind you cunt into his mouth, moaning and crying out in just as much pleasure. His fingers flex into the flesh of your soft thighs as they lock around his head. Jeonghan greedily licks every inch of your sopping cunt, chin and cheeks increasingly becoming covered in your sweet juices as they drip down to the sheets below him.

“Fuck, Hannie!” You cry out with a jolt, hips rolling incessantly into his mouth. “Keep doing that! Feels so good.”

“Yeah? Like it how I fuck you with my tongue, darling?” He rasps burying his face deeper into your hot cunt.

You’re slowly slipping into a euphoric state that won’t allow you to think straight, and you’re only able to stay coherent because he pulls away momentarily to slide his fingers between your folds. He lewdly spreads you open before diving back in, slurping up every last bit of your juices. The taste of you had his cock twitching and throbbing between his thighs.

Jeonghan groans when your fingers slide into his hair as your pussy keeps getting tighter around his tongue. The room in the air feels hot as he continues to lap at your cunt, and you can only pant and moan as you feel a familiar feeling pooling in your stomach.

The entire lower half of his face feels sticky, but Jeonghan needs more. Wants it to be messier. His hands slip under to grab your ass and push you deeper on his tongue. Lewd squelches mix in with your cries of pleasure as he fucks you with his tongue. You feel your eyes roll back and your back arch when he gently starts to circle your puffy clit. Jeonghan then wraps his lips around it before sucking it into his mouth.

“Fuck.” You moan out. “Jeonghan! Gonna come!”

His tongue rolls the sensitive bud as you jerk in his hold. Jeonghan’s groans are only turning you on even more because you can tell he’s enjoying this as much as you are. The arousal he feels has his cock aching for any sort of friction, but he’s just so lost in you that he can’t really care that his erection is starting to hurt. Honestly, he feels like he could eat you out forever.

“So fucking good.” You babble as your clit knocks against his nose with every buck of your hips.

You jolt when you feel Jeonghan suck your clit between his teeth, nibbling on the sensitive bud until your orgasm finally washes over you. Instead of pulling away, he pulls you closer and laps up your cream, slurping up everything you have to offer him. Precum gathers at the tip of his aching cock that he can feel it staining his underwear, but he’s too focused on you creaming on his tongue to care.

Your body goes slack after you ride out your orgasm. Jeonghan pulls a way from your cunt with a satisfied smirk. He wastes no time in getting rid of his underwear, leaking cock springing up with a wet slap against his lower abdomen after he takes it off. You lick your you lips and pull him closer to you as you’re eager to feel his skin on yours again.

“Like what you see, darling?” Jeonghan coos with a cocky smirk.

He’s stroking his thick cock slowly as he watches your eyes fix on the girth between his legs, raking them over him slowly with unmistakeable hunger. His cock is as pretty as he is; long and thick with the bulbous head oozing plenty of precum. The veins running alongside it have your cunt aching in need to feel them drag along your walls. Jeonghan undoubtedly has one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen, and you whine out in need as you cling to his neck. Your hips buck up on their own, desperate to feel even the slightest bit of friction.

“Don’t tease me.” You pout, eyes blinking up at him pleadingly.

That face you’re making is dangerous, Jeonghan thinks. It’s capable of getting you whatever you want. He has to close his eyes and exhale deeply when you snake a hand between your bodies and grip his cock, squeezing gently to goad him into fucking you. It’s hot and heavy in your hand and wet with his precum. Your hand drags over him in slow strokes.

“I want you so bad.” You whine into his ear. “Please.”

“You—“ He breathes with a stutter, hips slowly rolling into your hand. “Y-You have to answer me first, baby.”

You roll your thumb over his weeping tip, collecting the wet bead of his precum before smearing it along his cock. His whimpers and moans are so pretty, and you just revel in the sounds that you’re emmiting from him.

“Tell me. Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Want your cock, Hannie. It’s so pretty—need it inside me.” You mewl as you squeeze the base of his dick.

Jeonghan lets out a chuckle that’s breathy against your ear. It sounds smug despite the blush spreading on his face. “Think it’s pretty, huh? The prettiest cock you’ve ever seen?”

“Mhm.” You moan as he slides his tip up and down your entrance, collecting your juices along his cock before he slaps your cunt with his dick.

Finally, he relents and slowly pushes past your wet folds. You both let out loud moans at the feeling of each other. Jeonghan feels like he’s in heaven with how your hot, tight cunt is gripping his cock while you feel a burning pleasure licking up your entire body as his big cock splits you open.

“Fuh-Fuck, darling. Tight little pussy’s gonna drive me crazy.” He groans before leaning forward to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, tongue exploring your mouth as he drinks in your moans.

You whimper and whine into his mouth, eyelids fluttering in pleasure as he slowly starts to fuck his cock into you. Jeonghan pulls away with a deep groan. His eyes roll to the back of his head as your tight cunt squeezes his dick. Your arms a wrap around his neck as your legs do the same around his waist. Jeonghan’s cock throbs, nearly coming at the sight of your mouth hanging open in pleasure.

“Such a pretty little cunt. And it’s all for me.”

“Only for you, babe.” You say through a moan, bucking your hips up to meet his slow thrusts.

Your actions make his cock hit deep inside you, the leaking tip brushing against your sweet spot. A wanton moan escapes you at the feeling. You arch your back in absolute pleasure, not believing that he’s able to reach that deep inside you. Jeonghan smirks at your reaction, loving how you’re already so lost on his cock. His hips keep rolling against yours, forcing his thick cock in and out of your tight pussy.

Jeonghan is splitting you open as he fucks his cock into you. Your head is swimming from the pleasure as he picks up his pace. His moans only add to your pleasure. You can feel his pelvis brushing your pulsing clit with every harsh snap of his hips. The carnal sound of his cock slipping in and out of your cunt paired with the slapping of skin is making your velvety walls clamp down on him tighter.

“Fuck, Hannie. Harder! Fuck me harder!” You beg, bucking your hips to match his thrusts.

You’re both panting harshly as you feel the delicious pleasure build steadily. It spreads from your legs and along your spine until it consumes you completely. Jeonghan is quickly becoming obsessed with the sight of you under him, pretty tits bouncing every time he sharply snaps his hips. He spreads your legs to see the erotic sight of your juices frothing at the base of his dick and sliding down his heavy sack.

“Cockhungry angel wants more?” Jeonghan coos, driving his hips deeper so his cock is slamming against your sweet spot, sending your vision white. “You can have more, love. Because this is your cock. All yours.”

His words make you become impossibly tight. Your velvety walls make him choke out a loud moan. It’s almost hard for him to move with how tight your pussy keeps getting. The sight of your cream coating his cock as it disappears into your hot cunt only makes his snap his hips harder, eager to feel you come undone on his dick.

“Mine.” Your babble sounds so possessive yet fucked out that Jeonghan can’t help but moan along with you.

“Yours.” He confirms through his deep groans. “Cock fits inside your little pussy like it was made for you.”

“Hannie!” You cry out, feeling drunk on how his veiny cock drags against your walls. “If you k-keep saying things like that—!”

He smirks, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek—an action too tender for how he’s ravishing you. “What, baby? You’re gonna gush all over me? Cover this cock with your sweet cream?”

His thumb trails down to your aching clit and starts to rub fast circles along the sensitive bud. Jeonghan does this until you break. Your thighs tremble as your gummy walls flutter around his cock. If only you could see the literal heart eyes your boyfriend is staring at you with as your pretty face contorts in pleasure as you fall apart on his cock. He’s never seen a more perfect sight, and he’s sure to commit it to memory as your orgasm spurts all over his cock, marking him with your essence in the most obscene way.

The slam of his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm bordering on too much as you whimper in his arms. Those cute little mewls turn into cries when he keeps going, so drunk in you that he can’t stop. The sound of your moans and the way you suck him in as you cream around his cock makes Jeonghan’s head fall into your neck. His thrusts are turning sloppy as he whimpers gently against your skin.

“I love you.” He pants into your skin, choking on moans as he pumps his cum into your cunt. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Hannie.” You mewl, loving the feeling of his cum filling you up.

You feel the mixture of his release and your slick trailing down the sides of your thighs. It’s so messy that you can’t help but crave more. Jeonghan’s breathing is heavy as he places gentle kisses on your neck. Neither of you can ignore the pulsing of his fat cock still inside you. He fucks his cum into you a bit more before slowly pulling out, enjoying the sight of his thick cum leaking down to your asshole. Your pretty pussy is pulsing as more thick cum squeezes out.

Jeonghan’s massaging a palm on the inside of your sticky thigh to keep your legs spread for his eyes when you say the words that make his cock twitch and ache all over again.

“Keep stuffing me full of cum, baby.”

It’s so easy to slide his cock back into your creamy pussy. You clench tightly as he draws back, then forward again. His thick dick stretches you open so deliciously that you can’t hold back your cries of pleasure. He’s balls deep inside your hot cunt, his pelvis brushing against your aching nub. Your vision goes blurry as he hits so deep. Jeonghan hooks one of your knees over his shoulder so he can slide in deeper.

“I’m going to fill you up. Gonna come in this pretty pussy and fuck you until you can’t take anymore.” Jeonghan groans as you mewl and whimper underneath him.

He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, tugging the nub with his teeth, groping your other tit. You’re already so damn sensitive and arch into his touch. “Ah, Hannie!”

“Mmh.” He groans, releasing the hardened bud with a lewd pop as you clench around him.

Jeonghan starts fucking you slowly, letting you feel every vein along your pulsating walls. From tip to base, he feeds your tight hole like it’s starving. You whimper at the feeling, moans slipping out of you when he picks up speed. The tip of his dick rams into your cervix and makes you see stars. You’re so hot and messy already, your slick and his cum creating a ring around the fat base of his cock.

Dark eyes flicker between your sloppy hole and your fucked out face. Jeonghan can’t decide which is more obscene, but he loves both sights so much. His big cock spreads you wide, a euphoric burn blooming in your little pussy as your juices spill out. The cry you let out makes him kiss you. It’s soft in contrast to his length spearing you open. His tongue slips into your mouth, massaging yours as he swallows your moans.

Jeonghan traces tracing over your stretched hole to your fluttering clit, rubbing in hard circles as you keep crying out for him. He keeps pounding into you, your body moving up the bed with the sheer force.

“So fucking good!” Your mouth falls open in a moan as he rams into your sweet spot, that familiar electricity streaming through your body.

You can feel his pelvic bone pressing against your clit as his dick spears deeper. You’re squirming against your boyfriend, full and cockdrunk as he keeps rubbing his fingers on your clit. The toe-curling orgasm strikes so abruptly that you don’t expect it. Your juices squirt out all over Jeonghan’s length and his pelvis.

His thickness continues to invade your convulsing walls, almost brutally but you take it, gasping as your mind goes foggy.

“Fuck, darling. Keep soaking my cock like that.”

Your tits bounce as he fucks you harder, ramming into your sweet spot. You can’t process anything over the squelching noises and the sounds of your moans. Jeonghan groans, cursing lowly as you squeeze around him, begging for his cum. He grinds sinfully into your spasming cunt until he releases his hot cum into your pussy, filling you to the brim.

In utter pleasure, Jeonghan rocks into you with abandon, spurred on by your cries and your nails digging into his shoulders as his pelvis rubs your humming clit. His warmth spreads within you, leaking out from around his throbbing girth as his hips slow to a stop. You soften to quiet whimpers when he lets go of your leg, nuzzling into his neck in a daze.

Neither of you move, too lost in the feeling of each other’s arms to care about anything else.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo

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@sakuraslibrary

A Marriage of Inconvenience : k.dy

pairing: writer!doyoung x reader

genres: victorian au, arranged marriage au, strangers to lovers, angst & fluff

length: 22.5k

warnings: arranged marriage, alcohol, it gets a bit steamy at some points and is kinda suggestive, sexism - please bear in mind this is set in the 19th century (& let me know if i’ve missed any spelling mistakes)

playlist: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

description: you had thought love was easy: find a man you like and who likes you, marry him, then spend the rest of your lives together. except it never really is that easy, not when things go wrong.

tag list: @leejunini

a/n: i am in love with this header, done by @minyusa​. there are a thousand things i could say about this fic, but i’ll skip all that and just say thank you @nanakyun0j0​ & @doiedreams​ especially for taking the time to beta read this.

-

You suppose the thing you will miss most about London is the fact the city never sleeps.

For London is like the stars, available only when certain conditions are met. All your life, you have dreamed about the moment you’ll be able to step foot into the city and stay there, if only for a few months. 

But that time has come and gone like a beautiful dream. 

The candles that decorate the ballroom which have thrice been relighted by a steward serve as a reminder to you just how long you have been here for. With every flicker of the flame, the night crawls slowly onward and within a few hours carriages will begin to depart, concluding the penultimate ball of the social season.

Keep reading

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'super' music bank 230428 scoups fancam

@sakuraslibrary

Gods & Monsters (p. sh, l. hs)

pairing. step-brother sunghoon x female reader x step-brother heeseung

genre. step-siblings AU, pwp, dubcon, fluff smut humor angst etc

warnings. morally grey characterizations(mostly Sunghoon), profanity, toxicity, mentions of body/weight, sibling rivalry, cheating, mentions of death, full smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 23,000+

now playing. Gods & Monsters//Lana Del Rey

a/n. dear readers, I know you have waited and waited and waited, and I want to say thank you for that, I appreciate the patience🫶 please remember to be nice, I hope it was worth the wait🩷 ps- apologizing now for reblogging this to tag everyone, and double apology to anyone I did not get, forgive me🩷🩷🩷

smut warnings. Sunghoon’s mean… Heeseung isn’t, coercion, blackmailing, dirty talk, use of ‘princess/baby/good girl’, degradation, praise, throat/breast-fucking, oral, spitting, spanking, choking, desperation, overstimulation, unprotected sex.

“I still can’t believe they’re related.” 

The brothers in question exit from the same car, the older of the two coming out of the backseat drowning in a black hoodie that hangs past his fingers, masking his eyelids where the hood droops over his head. Some old vintage band hoodie perhaps, the logo too tattered and faded to read. He moves like a black cloud amidst the drizzle of the beginning of a storm. Slow, dangerous, impending, waking shivers up bystander’s spines with his presence.

The younger strides statuesquely in all his glory, head held high flaunting his perfectly sculpted 90 degree jawline that could cut through glass windows. His steps move in a sleek stride, akin to floating in the way he moves as if no crack, rock, or rigged ground could break his model-like Paris fashion week runway walk. His steely gaze never deters, not once distracted by the many calls of fawning and giggles following his lead.

“They’re so opposite.” Your friends continue to chatter, whispering in front of you where you stand by the school’s parking lot sharing your morning greetings; most of the time before class is consumed by gossip and recounts of the weekend, the usual banter you mindlessly sift through. “I guess they look somewhat alike, both tall.. slender, similar in build.”

They shrug and turn to face you, eyebrows lifting curiously and deviously grinning. “You probably know better than anyone now that your mom’s dating their dad.”

Your friends chortle back and forth for a minute about how even Mr. Park is still attractive at his age, and it’s a shame that both brothers don’t take after their father. “Well? Come on,” one of them pokes at your arm. “Don’t be selfish, spill!”

They want to know more about the Park brothers, details you can’t divulge into, because really you don’t know much yourself. No more than every other student that may share a class here and there with one.

“Bet she has a crush on one of them.” You hear between a giggle, a round of laughs bursting and vocals rising in pitch.

“Heeseung’s so her type, bet she’s already hooking up with him.”

“Nah, Sunghoon has something about him behind that cleancut preppy image, you can tell he’s hiding some secrets.”

“I’ve only met them once,” you interrupt before they can continue to dissect and assume. “They seem..” shrugging you fail to come up with much else, heading off to class unable to tear your thoughts away from the two brothers.

Opposite from each other would be an understatement. They’re completely unlike, a scale weighed down on one end as the other lifts high, lit up by light and praise.

The first and only time you met the boys outside of school had been over dinner, your mother had been a nervous wreck; spinning and running around in a frenzy, forcing you to wear some high-collared prim and proper dress that hit below your knees. ‘Can’t have Mr. Park thinking I’ve raised some floozy now can I sweetie?’

Meanwhile, a frown etched your face as you gazed across the table where two men sat uninterested, phone in hand, still sporting their same attire from school earlier. Nonetheless their father showed up dapper as ever, crisp suit and tie, hair coiffed back neatly away from his face displaying every feature even in the candle-lit all too fancy restaurant he’d dragged you all to. 

‘I’ll order for us.’ Mr. Park carried himself with a confident arrogance, one passed onto only one of his sons from what you could tell.

‘Now boys, put the phones away.’ He said shortly, lips pursed together glaring daggers at the two. ‘And sit up straight would you? What have I told you about hunching over Heeseung? Remove that damn hood while you’re at it, this is a fine dining establishment not In-N-Out.’

Mr. Park snapped quickly, his demeanor immediately altering when taking in your mother, speaking to her in a sugary sweet tone. ‘You look absolutely breathtaking tonight my love.’

She flushed, making your nose twitch in disgust and divert your attention away to the menu, anything to not stare ahead at Sunghoon’s flawless side-profile, not that you hadn’t taken the time to while he scrolled engrossed through his phone, fingers tapping and tapping while a smirk grew on his lips.

The evening had been uneventful for the most part, your parents gushing about their trip to Greece last month; the one that your mother came back from squealing and proclaiming ‘I think he’s the one.’

Mr. Park had quite a bit to say about Sunghoon though, clasping his son on the shoulder with a pride-filled smile. ‘One day he’ll be my senior VP, my Hoon’s got a bright future ahead of him. Real smart boy this one, got offered a free ride through university without even needing my help or a generous donation.’

Sunghoon laughed deeply, waving off his father’s praise. ‘It’s all thanks to you dad, seriously what good would I be without your aid to finance the best education.’ 

A pearly white sharp smile had your mother gushing, letting out a cringe-worthy sigh with her palms pressed together. ‘Oh, all my hard work to provide the same and here mine is failing three of her easiest classes.’

‘Mom!’

‘Ah, yes, it seems you can deliver the ingredients on a silver platter, even hand feed them and your children could still disappoint you.’ Mr. Park’s eyes thinned, head tilting in the direction of his elder son. Heeseung avoided him, continuing to lose himself in some mobile game with his phone hidden beneath the table as he had all night. ‘But you know, Hoon’s a great tutor, so good that I’ve had teachers beg me to let him work over summer. Education comes first of course, don’t want him to stress and take on too much while interning at my company over break.’

Mr. Park motions toward you, cocking an eyebrow. ‘Maybe he could help you this school year, I’ll even allow him to do it for free.’

Sunghoon hid a grimace behind his smile, nodding and blinking rapidly at his father’s suggestion. ‘Would love to.’

He’d made you swap contact information, but Sunghoon never bothered to reach out and set-up any sessions. Not as if he had the opportunity to approach you in class, not that he even knew you shared any classes.

Deep in thought you strolled to the back of the class, slumping into your seat to tune out and lose yourself, much like everyone else who opted to hide out from questions and eye-contact with the professors.

Heeseung always loomed back here as well, the corner preferred, an oversized hood tugged over his head to shadow the upper half of his face leaving his lips mostly visible. Most likely as unaware of your presence as you once were of his, at least until that dinner.

You could say something to him, reach out and tap his shoulder, start to wave to greet him when you enter class.. something about that night crossed your mind time and time again, pivoting the sour thoughts away; your mom and Mr. Park could always break-up anyway. 

Mom💞: ‘Have important news tonight sweetie, come home right after school!’

“I wanted to tell you before the official announcement gets sent out.” Your mother smiles wide before you as if a clothes hanger has gotten lodged between her cheeks.

“What announcement?”

“As you know, things have escalated quickly between myself and Mr. Park.” She continues, grabbing a hold of your hands to control the anxious tremor rolling through her limbs. “I know you loved your father more than anyone, as did I, but you know how happy Mr. Park has made me.”

The rest of her words blend with white static noise filling your ears. It was inevitable that this day would come eventually, from the first time you peaked through your window blinds and caught sight of her flirting with your next door neighbor as they pretended to water the bushes and shared sneaking smiles, the itch up your spine resembling a warning.

“We’re moving in together.” She finishes, chewing at her lower lip nervously. “All of us.”

All of us.

Mom. Mr. Park. You.

and his two sons.

“Sunghoon’s really smart.” Your mother forces a smile after reading an e-mail from your professor over your shoulder. “I’m sure Jinyeong mentioned something about one of his sons tutoring to make extra money, couldn’t have possibly been about Heeseung.”

Typing out a response to your professor about her jam-packed schedule and that she will outsource educational assistance for you, she huffs, leaning back after hitting send. “That Sunghoon is a God-send if you ask me.”

I didn’t ask. 

“I’ll have to beg him to help you out, maybe his father can encourage him with extra incentive.” Frowning at you, she tugs on the flimsy string of your tank top. “What have I told you about covering up more around the house? We live with men again, you can’t walk around displaying all of your body so carelessly anymore.”

Your mother could really care less if you feel offended by her commentary on your appearance, evident by her gaze scanning downward with an irritable tweak tugging her lip. “You know, I don’t pay for all these cute little gym sets for you to use as loungewear. When’s the last time you worked out? Slacking off in school and doing a poor job of maintaining your figure? What type of honorable hard-working man do you think you’ll be able to attract with no brains or looks to your advantage?”

“Yes mother.”

“Yes what?”

“Uh.” Sitting up ramrod straight, you frazzle, having tuned her out some minutes ago. “I’ll study harder and workout more.”

“And?” She nods to a baggy full of grapes by your side, cocking a snarky eyebrow at you.

“Oh..” you’re tempted to mutter something about how you’ve only had a handful, not even having time yet today to eat a proper meal. She wouldn’t care anyway. “Eat less.”

She grins, reaching over to tuck loose tendrils behind your ear. “You should pop into Jinyeong’s home gym downstairs, there’s even a sauna, it’s lovely.”

Unfortunately for you, she’s right, your step-father’s home gym is lovely.

“Rich people really live differently.” You mumble, popping your headphones on to warm-up with a walk on the treadmill. You can’t complain about your new living situation, Jinyeong, as he insists you call him now(because you both know dad would be too weird) has been extremely welcoming and accommodating to not only your mother but you as well. His sons on the other hand, too soon to say much about.

Heeseung has hardly spoken more than a few words, just as closed off and quiet as he comes across at school, and Sunghoon, well Sunghoon is perfect.

10 minutes of humming along to your sweat playlist and bouncing random thoughts around, you walk the gym contemplating if today should be an upper or lower body day, one accidental glance at your backside in the mirror solidifies your decision to focus on your lower half today.

“Deadlifts it is.” You groan to yourself, wiping your palms free of moisture before adjusting the weight. “No way Jinyeong lifts 150…”

“He doesn’t.” A loud deep tone passes beyond the low volume of your music, making you gasp and turn around in your bent position too fast, easily losing your balance and landing on your ass.

Sunghoon glares at you from the entrance, trudging in with a loose muscle tank and sweats on. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Uhm, working out?”

He scowls, watching you struggle to get back up as he steps around you to steal your spot before the barbell. “And why pretel do you think you can be here during my time?”

“Your time?” You guffaw, tempted to roll your eyes. “Well damn, I didn’t know we had a schedule to adhere to?”

“You think you’re funny.” Continuing to glower, he shoos you away with one hand, directing his chin toward the door. “Ha ha, now leave.”

“I just got here?!”

“I could care less.” Sunghoon’s jaw tightens, fully flexed in all its sharp glory. “Alexa, play Hoon’s Workout.”

To your disgust, Jay Park blasts through the speakers hung from corner to corner, the familiar beat of MOMMAE plays around you.

Of course he listens to Jay Park.. douche.

“I said get lost.” He rasps, stretching his digits out to wrap around the barbell.

Allowing your eyes to roll up, you shrug and glance around opting to set up on a yoga mat to stretch while he occupies the squat rack area. Sunghoon snarls behind you, annoyed that you won’t take the message he’s stated loud and clear to leave. 

What are you even doing here? Do you even workout? He grunts, hoisting the barbell up with a burn building up in his thighs and calves, peering out of the corner of his eye where you’ve begun to stretch.

Nice ass. 

Wait. 

What.

Shaking his head, he turns away to take a swig from his water, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eyelids. Licking his lips, he throws his head back for more, turning casually to watch your ass push out as you stretch your waist and back on all fours.

What the fuck. 

Sunghoon coughs, clearing his throat before returning to his lifting stance, adrenaline pumping faster with each sneaking look he steals as you twist and groan with a crack coming from your back. The stretch has you faced away, a perfect opportune moment to get a real good look, taking in a deep gulp as he squints to admire how obscene your workout shorts are; scrunched deep enough between your ass to show off everything, absolutely everything.

He groans, half from the ache in his lower back, half from the ache forming between his thighs. Sunghoon shakes it off, whatever it is, toying with the ring suddenly tightening up on his finger. “Hey, you.”

He says, intending to come off rude. “I’m done over here now.”

Without much more, he turns to the free weights, going for the 50 lbs to warm up his triceps. An excited jump swoops through his stomach as you get up and make your way back to the squat rack, adjusting the weight to less than half of what he normally does his reps with. His tongue clicks upon noticing that from the mirror where he watches you get into position, moving away from the barbell on the floor to lower your shoulders beneath the rack. 

“Terrible form.” He mutters, unknowingly too loud with your music paused for this very reason.

“Excuse me?” You snap, turning at your neck to glare at him. “You still have more to say?”

Sunghoon drops the weights obnoxiously, loudly landing on the foam mats. “Your form looks like shit.” He smirks, turning around and snapping his fingers. “Who taught you to curve your spine like that? That’s a sure way to hurt yourself, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” You say with a disgusted sneer. “My forms fine.”

“It’s trash.”

“You’re trash.”

“Oooh, you get a lot of reaction with those comebacks?” His tongue clicks repeatedly, stepping up behind your back to grab your hips. “This.” He smacks the side of your thigh, igniting a jolt up your back. “Squeeze your ass and stomach in, at the same time princess.”

Against your better judgment and that little irritating voice squealing in the back of your mind at the close proximity you’ve landed yourself in to the Park Sunghoon, you do as he says, albeit struggling to hold in your core and glute muscles. “Good good.” He says in a low whisper much too close behind you, palms dragging up to your waist to squeeze. “Now bend your knees, the back of your ankles better be hitting your ass if you’re doing it right.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He grins, pressing closer until his groin meets your bottom. “Eventually you should be able to hit that, if you’re doing it right.”

Sunghoon would know after all, slowly licking his lips behind you, he focuses on the low groan vibrating out from your chest as you push back up to stand and huff.

“See how that felt different than that weak shit you were doing?”

“Whatever.” Rolling your eyes, you squat for the next 10 minutes, thighs on fire from engaging your muscles in a new, different way. Dumb jerk was right, of course he was.

“Not too shabby.” Sunghoon says, handing you a water bottle from the mini-fridge, because yes, even their gym has a fridge. “But you could be better.”

His pointed teeth protrude at the next roll of your eyes, wrapping long fingers around your upper arm before you’re able to get away. “This wasn’t an invitation by the way, I better not see you in here again during my gym time.”

He winks, smacking your backside as he shoves your arm away. “And I mean that!”

Grunting, you pat off the sweat from your back, ready to hit him with a round of offensive drags about his form.

Sunghoon’s back muscles greet you as you turn back around, jaw falling to the floor with each twitchy flex they give as his triceps burst and he groans with each lift.

Right.

Things could be worse.

Things could definitely be worse.

Things are definitely worse.

After another email from your professor, your mother begged over dinner for your step-brother to help you pass the classes you’re lacking in. Much to his reluctance and added bribery from his father, he agreed with a forced wide smile, glaring ominously at you from the corner of his eye

“This is such a waste of time.” Sunghoon hasn’t tried to make any qualms about his disdain for your current predicament. Moaning and groaning more than actually bothering to assist you or answer your questions in any type of way, at least when he’s not fixing his perfectly blown out hair if even a strand moves out of place.

“I took this class last year.” He continues to whine. “Wasn’t even hard, well..” his eyes drag over to one side, head shaking at your less than flattering hunched over position. “Wasn’t hard for me, but I suppose for someone like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You’re quick to snap back, leaning away from your study guide to stretch your arms above your head. Sunghoon doesn’t bother to hide taking in the arch your spine lifts into, chest pushed upward the more you lean back to loosen your shoulders. He even hums appraisingly, pursing out his lips pleased.

“When we were working out together the other day, I noticed something about you.” 

“Before or after you chewed me out for invading your space?” You snicker, rolling your eyes and settling back to sit comfortably. “I told you, I’ll join a gym again and leave you to be at peace.”

“It’s not that.” Sunghoon waves you off, nodding to the stack of study guides. “You need to pass these classes, right?” 

“That’s why I’m here, genius. Taking up your sweet precious time.”

He doesn’t miss the snarky attitude you add, not sparing him attention as you return to rereading the same question for the fifth time.

“I was my high school’s valedictorian, top of the Dean’s list for the past 2 years, scouted by every Ivy League in the world really.” He shrugs, motioning to the display of plaques and honors hung up on his bedroom wall. “You know that though, you can’t be that stupid. Even extraterrestrials wish I’d visit to share my wealth of knowledge.”

“Good God man, get to the point.” You glower, ready to snap the mechanical pencil in your grip in half.

“This tutoring thing is pointless.” He pauses, deciding to leave out the part about you actually being stupid. “Girls like you have no purpose in excelling academically, especially not now with my father’s last name attached to yours.”

“What the fuck does that even mean? Girls like me?” 

Sunghoon smirks, nodding slowly as his gaze drags from your crossed legs up to your torso and the less than fond grimace you stare him down with.

“Girls like you..” he reaches for your knee, walking his index and middle finger up your thigh. “This little emo baggy clothes aesthetic, you’ll grow out of it someday. It’s what your mom wants, right? Judging by the way she scolds every move you make, fixes your hair, makes you wear those drabe goody church outfits around my father to impress him.”

Sunghoon leans in closer, falling to a whisper as his digits reach the top of your thigh. “Who knew what you were hiding under all this,” he tugs on your t-shirt, biting down on his full pink bottom lip. “There’s a standard to uphold now that our parents have wed.”

He licks his top lip purposely, leaving behind a coat of spit that accentuates how perfectly shaped his pout is without even trying. Distracted by his hand playing with your top, you realize too late how close he’s moved his chair to yours. “Money changes people.”

“What? You think I can be easily swayed by a bunch of stuck-up rich assholes like you who think you’re superior just because daddy keeps your bank account full?” Your hand circles his wrist, not without feeling your heart rate spike upon contact. Sunghoon’s as cold to the touch as he looks, grinning when your grip tightens around him.

“I have sure-fire way to find out.” He splits into a smile, gingerly tugging your fingers off his wrist before twisting and rubbing the skin dramatically with a hiss. “Here’s the thing,” Sunghoon stands up, moving to a cabinet full of paperwork, all ordered and labeled much too neatly. 

“You want to pass these classes, right?” He stops to look over his shoulder at your confused face. “Or what was that again? Mommy’s not going to fund your European summer vacation trip? That one you’ve been dreaming about and making Pinterest boards for since middle school?”

“She told you about that?” You grumble, whispering to yourself. “That bitch..”

“Shh, that’s no way to speak about your mother, she’s a lovely woman.” He winks, snapping his fingers. “Here it is. I took these courses my first year of college. Top grades in my class, of course.” Sunghoon shrugs, pulling out two thick folders. “You see because of tutoring, I’ve saved all my study guides, assignments, tests, quizzes, cheat sheets, well— you get the point. Right here, I have everything to help you pass these courses with minimal effort on your part required.”

“Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?” You say annoyed, standing up to snatch the folders from him.

“Nuh-uh-uh—“ Sunghoon has the nerve to laugh, lifting the files high above him and throwing back his head to cackle when you jump up in an attempt to steal them anyway. “Why would I make it that easy for you?”

“Why not??” You grunt, slapping his arm. “You don’t want to tutor me! I don’t want to be here! Let’s do us both this favor so my mom can get off my ass.”

Sunghoon snorts, flicking your chin condescendingly. “First lesson in Economics, everything has a price.”

“You want money??” You ask completely bewildered. “With all the money your dad gives you, you really need more from me??”

He analyzes the distraught anger building up between your wrinkled eyebrows, nodding and smirking. “I didn’t say anything about money.” Sunghoon waves the folders in your face, smacking them lightly on the top of your head before laughing again when you swing at him again. 

“I said a price.” He thumbs through the stacks of paperwork, biting back a smile. “You have something I want.”

He steps closer to you, reaching for the hem of your shirt again. “Something you’ve done a real good job of hiding.”

“Wha—“

Sunghoon tilts his chin in, eyes half-lidded with his head angled lower, grazing a thumb across the waistband of your shorts. “How much are you willing to do for me to get what you need?”

“You’re not serious.” Your palms itch by your hips, ready to slap the growing smirk off his face.

“Maybe I am..” he trails off, dipping his thumb past the button of your shorts. “Depends..” he tugs, pulling your hips to his. “How serious are you about your dream summer vacation? Because if I was you.. I wouldn’t fuck up this opportunity I’m offering you.”

“You—“ stammering, you pull away until the 

backs of your knees meet the edge of his bed, cursing under your breath. “You want..”

“Wanna fuck you?” Sunghoon says flatly, eyebrows raised to patronize you further. “A lot of air passing through that head of yours?”

“Man, fuck you.”

“I’m giving it my all.” He shrugs, throwing the folders onto his bedside table. “Listen, you’re giving me virgin vibes. Is that what this is about?”

“What?!”

“Ah, I should have known.” Shrugging, he points a finger up and down your figure. “You’re one of those prudish types. That’s why you cover up so much, yeah?”

“I’m not a virgin.”

Sunghoon’s shoulders fall, squinting at you apprehensively. “Then what’s the deal? What, you’re the only girl within a 50 mile radius that hasn’t thought about my dick?”

“You’re actually insufferable.” You say, stunned that you’ve even found yourself having this conversation. “Besides, our parents are married now.”

Sunghoon smiles, not a charming or genuine smile, a vindictive terrifying one at best. “Exactly, little step-sister.”

Who knew that the Park Sunghoon is really nothing but your average typical perverted horny young-adult man. You frown, taking in his clean-cut pristine appearance, that shallow sinking sensation of realization melting between your chest.

All men are the same.

“You’ll really help me pass?”

Sunghoon nods greedily, moving into your personal space to nudge your chin. “Trust me, you couldn’t fail even if you tried with my help.”

“Okay.” You whisper, scanning his room for a fast way to escape.. if you need to. “Why me?”

Sunghoon laughs breathily, reaching for the end of your t-shirt to slowly inch up your torso. “Why not you.” He pokes your navel, index finger dragging upward, tracing the center of your stomach up to where your bra lays.

Whiplash hits hard between the churn in your stomach and a shiver rippling up through your limbs. Given any other scenario, one where you weren’t being threatened so-to-speak to pleasure your step-brother, you can’t deny that you’d give in willingly either way. 

Sunghoon in every sense is fatally attractive. From his deep voice, to the aromatic musky sweet cologne wafting off his clean soft exfoliated skin, to his, well, devastatingly gorgeous unflawed face; you have to tell yourself once again, things could be much worse.

“What do you want me to do?”

He grins, tapping your forehead with his free hand, index finger prodding condescendingly. “Not that dumb after all. Knew you had it in you princess.”

Sunghoon cups your breast, thumb pushing at your nipples through the cup of your bra. “Take it off.”

He takes one step back, motioning with his chin for you to hurry up. The easy part is pulling your shirt off, not as if he hadn’t seen you in a sports bra the other day. Crossing his arms, he nods for you to continue, biceps bulged out from where they clench against his chest.  

Heat of embarrassment traces up your neck, smoothing the straps of your bra off your shoulders as you look away and reach back to unhook the clasp, dropping the garment down to your feet. Sunghoon pouts his lips, quietly whistling and returning to his spot, much too close, close enough to lodge one of his thighs between yours. “That wasn’t so hard now was it.”

Cupping your hips, he peers down, taking in your chest up close with the top row of his teeth searching for his bottom lip to dig into. Unbeknownst to you, it’s been awhile.

Four weeks actually, Sunghoon realizes at the first twitch of his length against his pants, lodging himself closer to your center for you to feel it. 

“Very pretty.”

Fastening your waist, his digits dig into your sides, forcing a gasp to spill from your mouth. “I was right.” He says smugly, tickling up past your chest and now hardened nipples. “Noticed those pretty lips first.”

Sunghoon gets your heart racing easily, splaying a palm over your throat as his other hand cups your chin, dipping his thumb into the fat of your bottom lip. “Bet $1000 they’d look even prettier struggling to take my dick.”

His thumb sneaks in past your lips, pressing against the center of your tongue until you whimper, chest pushed up against yours. “Show me you pretty that mouth can look.”

He keeps whispering about your slutty mouth and breasts, thumb shoved into the hilt allowing for you to mimic a blow-job around him. Lips circled around the digit obscenely as you slurp his thumb and dip your head up and down. “That’s it, suck me real fucking good just like that until I cum all over these pretty tits.”

Sunghoon’s thigh jerks up between yours, digging up higher until his muscle flexes against your warm crotch. “No gag reflex princess?” He grins, neck bending in close to lavv at the mess of spit pouring free from your lips suctioned around his thumb. “Messy messy messy.”

The grip on your neck tightens, forcing a burning itch up your throat, eyes squeezing shut as you cough and unintentionally bite down on his hand. “Fuck!”

Sunghoon hisses, tearing his hand away with a shake to get rid of the sting, glaring at you as he returns to grab your jaw roughly. “What the fuck was that?”

Bleary wet eyes stare back at him, bottom lip drawn out innocently, his tongue clicks, shaking his head annoyed. “Don’t fucking do that again.”

Sunghoon rumbles deep within his chest, pushing down on your shoulders until you drop to your knees in startlement, recuperating quickly to get between his thighs as he sits and manspreads before you. He slaps your hands away faster than you can say ‘ouch’, drawing them to your chest with a dramatic pained hiss.

“Not like that,” he tuts, unbuttoning his pants and nodding to the zipper. “I’m even giving you a head start, say thank you.”

Tight-lipped, you crouch in closer and mutter a ‘Thank You’, burning head to toe from the embarrassment, because whether you want to admit it or not, Sunghoon’s hot. You can always fib the truth, but the damp material between your thighs will give you away each time; having to clench your legs together for a bit of relief.

“Good, now remember what I said, no biting.” Sunghoon warns you again, pinching your chin. “No hands either, get me off with that pretty mouth only.”

Lazily, watching you with hooded eyes, Sunghoon reaches lower to run the pads of his fingers down the zipper of his pants, taunting you further. “I’m waiting.” Continuing down, he traces the prominent shape of his cock, starting from the base and working to the tip as he lines the shape. The chubbed up girth clearly visible this up close, already swelling your throat just from looking at it.

The silver zipper gleams back at you, dangling a bit as if to mock you more. Thickly swallowing, you scoot in on your knees, nose brushing the shape on your way to catch the zipper between your lips and struggle to pull it down, his pants tighter from the stretch of his hardened cock ready to rip through the material.

Sunghoon chuckles when you finally manage to get the zipper down, wishing to further humiliate you, if only his cock agreed. “Little princess doesn’t know how to suck dick, huh?” He coos in a fake sweet tone, shifting up to push down his pants past his knees. “What do you say?”

“Thank you..”

“Fast learner, I like that.” He laughs mirthfully, nodding to his hard-on once again. “Let’s see what you got.”

“You said no teeth.” You say, growing annoyed the more you watch his cock throb, confined by the tight material of his briefs. The wet spot at the tip indicates more than enough that he’s tired of waiting. “Take it out!” Rolling your eyes, you slap his knee, demanding he at least do that.

“No wonder you’re failing so many classes.” Sunghoon mumbles, rolling his eyes back at you and shoving his briefs down past the wet head of his cock, widening your gaze as you take all of him in, all.

“Two classes..” you trail off, suddenly antsy as he circles the base of his length and strokes upward fully displaying the full thick long size of his girth. “You’re huge.”

Sunghoon snorts, squeezing under the head for his foreskin to pull back around the bulbous tip, glistening with precum. “Don’t look so terrified, it’s unbecoming.”

Even his fingers brighten with a shade of pink, the whites disappearing as he strokes and tugs against the tip. “Now.” Biting down on his lip he adjusts for the head of his cock to hover near your parted mouth, dragging the wet head slowly along your upper lip. “Let’s see if that gag-reflex is actually nonexistent.”

Without waiting another second he reaches for the back of your head, tangling his fingers through your hair to push your face toward his lap and glide past your lips. The intrusion throws you off initially, coughing around the fat stretch pulling the corners of your lips apart further. “Fuck, feels real good.”

The heavy weight of his cock rushes spits down your chin as he builds up a pace, balls hitting your chin the more he works you up and down while simultaneously lifting his hips up to hit the back of your throat. Sunghoon groans, teeth clicking together from biting down hard to keep his voice low, thrusting harder and rougher until your throat gives and loosens up around him allowing him into the back of your throat. “Oh fuck!”

Finding the perfect angle to have your mouth constricted around his length, he holds you down; ripping tears from your eyes from the constant burn around your lips, incessantly stimulating the inside of your mouth and suppressing your breathing.

It’s agonizing at first, making Sunghoon’s abdominal muscles lock up and suck in from the lack of sound coming out of you. His eyes roll back, circling into your mouth easily in disbelief. 

“Your throats such a perfect little fuckhole for me, huh?” He babbles, finally pulling out. The release pouring out wads of spit down your chin and neck, wide-eyed as you catch your breath.

“Is that pussy wet?” Sunghoon bends forward, reaching to pinch and tug on your stiff nipples, twisting the buds between his fingers. “Don’t lie to me, I can see it all over your face.”

“Y-yes..” succumbing to the invisible weight against your chest, you nod; head dropping shamefully in a weak attempt to hide what you can only imagine the mess looks like all over your chin; staring down blearily at the river of spit and precum running down your chest, meeting in the middle before splitting off under your chest.

“Does it hurt?” Slapping your breasts, he grips one, digits kneading into the fat and pushing it up higher on your chest; his other hand wrapping around your neck to lift your gaze back to him. “Pussy hurts so bad doesn’t it?”

Gulping beneath his grip, your eyes fall shut with a whimper, tears streaking down the sides of your cheeks. Huffing for a breath under his choke as you crumble and can’t find your voice to say more.

“Come on,” Sunghoon shakes your neck, jostling your head, making your eyes snap open. “Fucking look at me.” He bites, reaching his other hand up to stroke your hair away from your face and examine the wads of tears clumping your eyelashes together. Swollen wrecked lips hung open desperately panting for air, lines of wet and dried tears racing down under your chin. “Tell me exactly what your pussy wants.”

It’s more than degrading, because he knows you don’t want it, not really. Not your mind, your heart, but just like the rest, your cunt will always be your downfall. Greedy for cock like any common whore.

“Y-you,” you cry, fitting your hand around his wrist as a silent plea to loosen his grip on your throat. “Wants you.”

Smirking to one side, his gaze sparks with a different type of vindictiveness, one that lets you know that you won’t be getting none of that. Holding your neck back, he scoots forward until his ass nearly hangs from the bed, gripping around the base of his angry blood-filled cock to slap angrily between your chest. The sudden smack of hot flesh on your wet breasts has you arching up, coughing with another squeeze around your throat. “Think I don’t know that princess? I bet you could cum from this alone. You know how big of a slut you have to be to get off just from sucking cock?” 

Sunghoon drops your neck with a wide pleased smirk, releasing his hold on you to scoop under your breasts, pushing the fat mounds together for his cock to perfectly sandwich between with a guttural groan. “Oh fuck, that’s it.”

He thrusts viscously, pumping between your breasts, eyebrows bunched together releasing short breathy hisses through his pursed lips. “Fuck, look at the way those tits bounce, better than a pussy.” Sunghoon groans, slamming his cock in and out, losing his hold on your breasts the more ferocious his movements become. 

“Hold your tits for me.” Sunghoon growls, snarling when you don’t move fast enough. “Push them together, squeeze around me real tight baby.” Grunting, he wraps around the back of your neck, hips moving on their own to fuck between your jiggling breasts, spit and precum guiding the way for his cock to slip right through, the tip hitting the hollow between your collarbone.

Each thrust has you jerking under his control, his hand gripping your nape rougher for more command over his movements. Ramming his girth in and out, he mutters multiple curses, hips twitching up with one last thrust before reaching up into your hair, gathering enough in his hands to create two pigtails.

“Back in that slutty mouth.” 

Sunghoon’s pull on your hair snaps your neck back, mouth popping open for him to freely shove the entirety of his size back inside. The tip of his cock slides past your tonsils, finally making you gag and lurch around him, coughing out copious amounts of drool around his size as he relentlessly hammers in chasing after release.

 “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it!” He shouts between gritted teeth, hips angled to stretch your mouth wide open. Balls deep with every inch of his cock drenched in a mess of spit, the heat and suction from your lips grows overbearing; burying as deep as he can with your nose struggling to breathe against his neatly trimmed pubic hairs. “Ugh!”

Pulling hard enough on the tufts of hair balled up in his fists, he shouts behind sucked in lips, eyes wrinkled shut to stop himself from screaming out loud. Between panted breath, Sunghoon orders you to swallow, grinding his hips forward leaving you with no choice but to comply. Mouth locked around his cock as long streaks of cum shoot inside the back of your throat, gurgling around his length as he fills you up. Tightening his grip on your hair almost punishingly, he pulls the tufts tightly into his fist; cock buried deep ensuring you take every last drop.

“All of it.” he croaks, tone breaking into a rasp. “Swallow all of it.” With one more deep grunt, he pulls out, the last bit of cum spilling out onto your chin. Wet cock dragging down your cheek with a satisfied cocky smirk on his face. 

“You look way too good with my dick on your cheek, could seriously get hard again just from looking at you.” 

Sunghoon sighs, collapsing back on his bed with a long-winded sigh, head dizzy from the aftermath of his orgasm still passing through his limbs. “Fuck that was too fucking good.” He says more to himself, sounding elated, completely missing the grimace painting your face as you lick between your teeth, nose scrunched up.

“Done?”

Sunghoon’s hand lifts, waving your question off. “Yeah yeah.”

He pushes up to stand just in time to see you use the inside of your shirt to clean off your chin and chest, tongue clicking because he should have made you swallow that too. 

“I’ll let you know when we can have our next session.” Sunghoon winks, standing up to wave the packet of completed aced quizzes and assignments over your head. “If only you took school as serious as you take sucking cock.”

Snatching the packet from him, you leer, ripping open his bedroom door ready to run for the bathroom to douse yourself in shower gel and scrub the fuck out of your skin, halted as you come face to face with the other Park. Thankfully not your step-father.

Heeseung’s eyes go wide as if he’s been caught, eyes shifting back and forth up and down the hallway for a way to sneak off. 

“What are yo—“

“I can explain!” Heeseung whispers urgently, running a hand through his hair anxiously, grateful that you closed the door behind you. “I mean, I didn’t hear anything.”

“What?”

“I mean—“‘he stutters, waving goodbye and shaking his head dismissively before jogging down the hall to his bedroom. 

“Weird.”

A much needed shower keeps your mind occupied from delving too deep into what Heeseung could have been doing out there, passing by more than likely. Maybe. Scrubbing your forearms and stomach down until your skin burns, you hiss, replaying the sounds of Sunghoon’s moans and pleasured breathy whines. What the hell did he mean by ‘next session’, did he really plan to make this a recurring activity? 

Why would he want to start up some type of fuck-buddy situationship with you either way? As the bathroom mirror clears up of fog, you brush at the backs of your teeth roughly, swearing that you can still taste particles of his tangy cum. Leave it to some dickhead to be the first to spill his load inside of your mouth, he’s lucky you didn’t regurgitate it and spit it all back in his face.

It’s no worse than the random hot frat guy you’ve hooked up with at a party, or bartenders that slipped you their number at a club to meet up at the end of their shift; other than you know, the whole parents married to each other: siblings through matrimony aspect.

That’s one way to make yourself feel better about what just happened, shrugging it off as you exit the bathroom and make way to your bedroom, paused on the way down the hall to glimpse in the direction of Heeseung’s room. A low murmur of music drifts from his cracked open door, focusing on your hearing at the familiarity. “Is that?”

Too nosey for your own good, you creep toward his bedroom, lighting up at your correct recognition. “You like Deftones?”

Heeseung jolts up in his computer chair, dropping the vinyl record in his hands at your surprise entrance. “Shit.”

“Oh, sorry.” You flinch, hoping your presence didn’t crack the record as it hits his bedroom floor. “Should have knocked..”

“My fault my fault,” he waves calmly, internally screaming with quick a fast analysis of the record and vinyl for any damage. “All good.” He breathes, finally getting a look at you only to choke on his spit at the towel wrapped around your chest. “Oh uh..”

“I love this song.” You nod, moving further into his room to read over the various posters hung up from wall to wall. “Wow, you have good taste.”

“Wait,” he sits up, ignoring the lack of clothing beneath that towel. And the sweet scent of vanilla and peach now filling his room, the driblets of water still clinging to your skin; glowing in a ridiculously unrealistic manner where you stand.. 

“Did you say you like Deftones?”

“Love them.” You correct, moving inside to sit on the end of his bed, thighs pressed together tight. “My favorite band actually.”

“No way.” Heeseung looks down to avoid making it glaringly obvious how hard he’s fighting to not stare at every inch of your exposed skin. “That’s crazy.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?” You scoff, making your step-brother shake his head. 

“One of my favorite bands too, maybe my all time favorite.” He informs, coughing to clear his throat and stand, moving to a crate full of records. “What’s your favorite release?”

“Probably Diamond Eyes, I won’t lie. This Place Is Death is like the best song ever.” 

Heeseung can feel his ears burn, swallowing as he turns to show you an original copy of the first release of said album. “You have good taste too, I really like Beauty School.” 

“Great choice.”

Heeseung nods timidly, moving to the record player to play your favorite track. “There’s something really out-of-body about this song.”

“Right? It’s like floating, weightless. The vocals and music harmonize together so good, it's like I’m in a dream.”

Heeseung does his best to ignore the suggestive lyrics for now, returning to his seat. “Have you seen them live? I went to their last tour, great setlist.”

Pouting, you shake your head ‘no’, gripping the connected top of your towel to adjust the tightness over your chest. “I wish, my moms kind of.. strict, I guess. I’ve stopped asking her about concerts after hearing no a handful of times. Don’t need another lecture about how this type of music is for the low lives of society, bottom feeders, boot lic—“

“Oh woah woah.” Heeseung interrupts with an uncomfortable chuckle, trying not to take any of it personally. Your mom does seem like a hard ass.. 

“Sorry.”

“No no, I’m sorry, that suck’s seriously.”

Shrugging, you give him a playful frown. “Nothing you could do about it. All she cares about is my looks and grades, and my role in society.” Even if it’s just to end up becoming some wealthy man's stay-at-home housewife to be cheated on someday. Not that you need to bring up that part.

Heeseung pinches his bottom lip in thought, nodding along to what you’re saying, choosing to shove aside the sound of his brother's grunts and heavy panting at the mention of your grades. “They’re playing next week actually, maybe…”

“Oh really? Are you going?” 

He hums, going on about how many concerts he’s been to this year alone. “If there’s a tour in town, I’ll be there.”

“Ah, I’m jealous.” Digging your toes to the floor, you sit up straight and clutch your towel with a mortified expression. “Oh my God, I’ve been sitting here this whole time like this?!?” Rushing to stand, you skitter quickly for the door, turning to bow apologetically. “My heads all foggy, I wasn’t even thinking.”

Heeseung laughs softly, muttering off a ‘no no no it's all good’. 

“My doors usually open,” he shrugs, jokingly mentioning to knock at least so he doesn’t end up wailing out a loud high-pitched scream that he’ll never be able to live down. “Whenever you wanna hang out and listen to music or whatever.”

“I’ll make you regret that.” You grin, waving before making your way out.

Heeseung lets out a long sigh, mostly from releasing the tension in his back after trying(and failing) to fight off his perverse thoughts.

She’s fucking Sunghoon anyway, he reminds himself. Of course she is. Everyone’s favorite Park brother, even their parents.

Heeseung shoves that aside in the meantime, laying back on his bed to enjoy the faint traces of your body wash left behind.

Heeseung’s been on edge ever since overhearing his brother on the phone, almost forgetting himself of the younger’s relationship. He sits stiffly against his headboard, gnawing at his lip to quell away his nerves. They’d be back soon from picking her up, and luckily luring you to his bedroom had become easier the more you realized how many bands you both listen to.

“So, what are you doing later?”

Even from the side of your face he can tell your eyebrows furrow, confused that he’d even ask. “Mom didn’t tell you about the dinner?”

Bile rises in his throat at the casual way you say mom, swallowing down the need to correct you. Shaking it off, he repeats to himself to focus before time runs out.

“I had plans to meet up with a few friends tonight, we scored some last minute tickets to the Deftones concert a few towns over. Might go explore this new record store beforehand, you’re welcome to come.” Heeseung scratches his nape apprehensively, focused on you thumbing through the crates of vinyls lined up along his bedroom wall. “My friend Jake, he uh.. he can’t make it tonight, change of plans. I offered to buy his ticket off of him if you wanna…”

“A concert tonight?” You frown, ending your search when one of the album covers catches your eye, gently drawing it out and delicately freeing the record. “This is one of my favorites by them, you have good taste”

Heeseung silently agrees, lifting the record player's needle for you to set it in place. “Yeah, we can go out to Rick’s Rockin’ Records too, I haven’t been since they moved to a new location out there. Maybe grab something to eat, or.. whatever you want to do. I already asked dad if I can borrow the car tonight.”

“Hmm,” music thrums from his speaker set-up, the volume low blending in well with the darker atmosphere he’s built in his bedroom. “Can’t do that today, mom said tonight’s really important. Something about meeting Sunghoon’s friend, I don’t know she wasn’t super specific.”

Heeseung sighs, chewing on his nail as he sits down on his bed and watches your hips sway slowly to the beat of the music. “About that—“

“I should probably get ready actually,” you groan, turning to look at him with an annoyed sneer. “If not I’ll never hear the end of it over dinner. Surprised your dad’s letting you go out?”

“Well..” Heeseung stands in an attempt to distract you and try to keep you in his room longer if possible. Not that it would help to keep you away from heading downstairs at some point.. 

“What if I talk to your mom? You said you never get to see them when they tour.” Heeseung says in a rushed panicked tone. “I don’t want this free ticket to go to waste.”

“You would do that for me?” You squint back at him confused, from barely having more than a few run-ins and conversations over music in the last few weeks; his eagerness seems misplaced, unusual even.

“I mean,” Heeseung can feel his mouth drying up, patting his palms down his sides to calm his nerves. “It’s not a big deal.”

The telltale sound of a car engine shutting off outside of his window steals both of your attention, cursing under your breath as you peer through his blinds. “I have to get ready.”

“Wait wait!” Heeseung blocks the door before you can manage to leave, awkwardly stretching his arms out. “The other day, with my brother..”

“Oh.” 

“It’s not like that.” His hand waves, reaching to massage his temples. “There’s something about him that I think you should know.”

“No no, it’s okay. I’m not into him like that.” You lie, avoiding his gaze. “My mom’s making him tutor me, that’s why I was in his room. I mean like, when you saw me.”

Heeseung nods, mouth opening and shutting repeatedly. “Do you like him?”

“What? No.” You answer too fast, huffing out a laugh while peering around him for an escape. “Why would I like him? He’s..”

“Everyone likes Sunghoon.” He says factually, expression drooping as he nods and steps aside. 

Yeah. Everyone. Including you.

The shout of your name breaks your thoughts, saved by the bell as your mothers tone rings out akin to an alarm. Lifting up onto the balls of your feet you apologize and scamper away to rush out of Heeseung’s bedroom. 

“You better be ready!” She follows, making you work urgently to race through your closet for an outfit she would choose for you. Something to make you seemingly presentable enough in the presence of whomever your mother considers ‘important’.

What if it’s one of Sunghoon’s attractive friends? He’s good looking, good looking people tend to know each other, right? He seems to prefer when you show more skin.. but a deadly glare from your mom may not be worth it only for a few fleeting glances of interest.

A knee length high-neck dress can’t make her mad, you’re positive she purchased this for you at some point anyway.

Another shout of your name has you jogging toward the stairs while hopping into a pair of flats and attempting to zip up the back of your dress all at once, the extra hobble down the last few steps drawing a round of attention your way right as you land with a deep breath and smooth out the wrinkles down your front.

“There you are.” Your mother glowers, eyeing you disapprovingly and reaching to tug on one of your earlobes. “Not even a pair of earrings? Could you be more of a slob, darling?” She whispers, wrapping an arm around your back and leading you into the living room. 

Sunghoon stands near his father, back facing the both of you as he nods and laughs at something obscured by their combined size. 

“Our guest just landed an hour ago and still had the decency to at least wear a pair of high heels. What’s your excuse?”

High heels?

“Ah, there you are.” Your step-dad turns, unveiling a petite blonde, still small in stature despite the 5 inch pair of stiletto Chanel pumps pinching her toes. Perfectly feminine and radiant where she stands close to Sunghoon’s side. “This is Miyeon, Sunghoon’s girlfriend.”

Heeseung leans near one of the entrances, gaze bouncing back and forth from his brother, to you, to Miyeon. The air is heavy enough to shatter through glass, freezing you in place with wide eyes. “Girlfriend?”

Sunghoon clears his throat, avoiding your questioning glare as he reaches to pull Miyeon in and places a kiss on top of her head. 

“Yes, they’ve been together since middle school, can you believe that?” 

“No. I can’t.” You say stoically, going fully ignored by your step-brother. 

“Miyeon attends school in New York, but she’s back home for the week.” Your step-father informs, smiling lovingly at his son and his presumed future daughter-in-law. 

“Middle school.” You repeat under your breath, eyes darting around for something to distract you. Heeseung comes near, not missing your surprise. 

“Hey, I’m heading out soon if you—“

“Yes!” You pipe up abruptly, reaching for his arm, aggressively nodding. “Right, the concert!”

“What concert?” Your mother asks, tongue clicking annoyed. “What have I told you about concerts”

“I invited her.” Heeseung states confidently, excusing himself to stand in front of you. “If that’s okay with you, dad? They’re her favorite band and she never gets to see them. I had an extra ticket so I offered..”

“That’s awfully nice of you Hee.” Sunghoon says with a sleek gaze, hugging Miyeon tighter into his side. “What about Jake?”

“He’s feeling sick.” Heeseung snaps back at his younger brother, returning to his father who looks contemplative. 

“That is nice of you.” He reiterates, humming and reaching for his wallet. “Get something to eat too, since you’re not staying for dinner.”

Your mother’s eyes widen at that, biting down hard on her teeth to force a smile. “Ah, I cooked enough for all of us.”

“It will be good for the kids to spend time together.” He shrugs. “Leftovers never hurt anyone darling. Here Hee, don’t stay out too late or your mom won’t be able to sleep.”

He hands over a rolled up wad of cash, reaching for the keys in his pocket. “Take my car, Hoon’s going to need his to drive Miyeon home later.”

“I thought I was staying over?” You hear her whisper to your step-brother, the scowl between his eyebrows unwavering as he glares back and forth from his brother to you.

“Since when have the two of you been close?” He asks, ignoring Miyeon’s question.

Heeseung shrugs, wringing the keys around his fingers. “Learn something new everyday, don’t we?” He subtly peers from his brother to the girl by his side, fast enough to go unnoticed to anyone other than Sunghoon.

“I think it’s nice.” Your step-father speaks up. “I’m happy to see you kids getting along like real siblings.”

Heeseung forces a smile, unable to explain to himself why that comment even bothers him. “We’ll be safe.” He says to your mother, nodding for you to follow him.

“Uhm,” matching his pace you smooth down the dress you wore specifically with your mother’s judgemental glare in mind, not bothering to even say goodbye to Sunghoon nor his girlfriend. “Should I change?” 

Heeseung shrugs, scanning your figure swiftly and scratching the side of his neck. “If you want to feel more comfortable? It’s a general admission show so..”

“Give me a minute, yeah?” He nods, adding that he’ll get the car started as you jog up the stairs and burst through your closet, ripping off the stuffy drab outfit from your skin. ‘What should I even wear to a concert?’

“What the fuck is this about?” Sunghoon surprises you, jumping up with a gasp and tugging a sweater in front of your chest. “Why is Heeseung taking you out?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?” You snap back, hissing under your breath after hearing the faint sound of conversation bustling downstairs, Miyeon’s charming laughter sprinkled between. “I wouldn’t have..”

“Wouldn’t have what?” He steps forward, crowding into your space inside of your closet. “Suck my dick the way she never would?”

He smirks, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and lifting his other to show off a silver band snuggly fitted on his ring finger. “We’re promised to each other.”

Sunghoon whispers, grazing your upper lip. “That means waiting until marriage.”

“You cheated!” You hiss, shoving his stomach. “You made me cheat with you!”

“I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.” He says in a mean-spirited tone, flicking your chin. “Besides, you think I’d ever treat my future wife like some slut?”

“Fuck you.”

“Soon.” He nods, inching in to lay a soft kiss on your Cupid’s bow. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Whatever this thing is you have going on with my brother, cut it out.”

“There’s nothing going on between us.” You shove, digging your palms against his stomach. “He’s nice, unlike you.”

“Yeah. He’s a real good liar.” Sunghoon grits, easing off you. “I have to get back to dinner, disappointed you won’t be joining us.” 

“Sure you are.” He reaches for your neck again, large palm engulfing most of it. 

“Really wanted to see you try to cover up your guilt.” His tongue clicks, tilting his head to the side to smile. “The look on your face when my dad introduced you,” he sucks in a breath between his teeth, dimpled cheeks sinking in. “It was priceless.”

“Get away from me.” You try to push again, digging your nails into his waist. 

“You thought..” he strokes down your cheek, forehead resting against yours. “That I like you, right? Already dreaming of your step-brother turning into your boyfriend?” He hums, pinching your cheek. “Cute.”

“Sunghoon! What’s taking so long!” Your mother calls from downstairs, halting your next snide remark. 

“One second!” Rolling his eyes, he turns back to you, thumb smoothing under your eye. “Take what I say seriously.” He sighs, pecking your chin and bottom lip. “Don’t piss me off.” With a fake smile and lit up eyes he lays one more kiss atop your mouth, pulling away enough for his words to trace across your lips. “Because I’ll find out, and whatever you think you’ll get away with here— you won’t.” 

Straightening out, he winks, patting your cheek and laughing when you look away with a clenched jaw. “Asshole.” You mutter, quickly pulling out an oversized old t-shirt and shorts to throw on. Having made Heeseung wait long enough, and now even more annoyed than before you forgo the idea of picking out something cute.

It’s just your step-brother anyway, he’s seen you look worse.

Running out of the house before your parents can try bother you with a lecture do’s and don'ts you apologize, hopping into the passenger seat short of breath.

“Sorry sorry, my mom,” you wave, giving your mind a second to conjure up a lie. “You know, doing her mom thing.”

Heeseung smiles, nodding to your seatbelt and backing out of the driveway. “Don’t think we’ll have time to grab a bite before the opener, if that’s okay with you?”

Ignoring the rumble in your stomach, you nod and shoot him a thumbs up. “It’s fine, seriously thank you for getting me out of there.”

Taking in a deep breath you start to settle, watching the road and listening to the soft tune of what you recognize as Deftones latest release, stealing a glance at Heeseung’s phone to confirm. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up?” His lips pout, drumming along to the beat as you enter a freeway.

“When you invited me to come with you tonight..” Heeseung clears his throat, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

“Did you know?” Chewing your lip nervously, you sit up straight to watch his side and the blush rise from his neck to the middle of his face. “About.. her?”

“I’ve known about Miyeon for years.” He says, focused on the road. “I knew she was in town too.”

“Did Sunghoon ask you to keep me distracted?”

He blinks surprised, eyes going wide. “Sunghoon doesn’t speak to me unless he has no other choice.” He says flatly, gripping at the steering wheel tightly, losing interest in the change of song. “I invited you because..”

“You saw what happened the other day?” You ask, turning away remembering the awkward silence you shared with your step-brother after your tutoring session.

“Well no.” He trails off for a moment, letting out a long winded sigh. “I know how my brother is. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together..”

“Are you going to tell our parents?”

Heeseung shakes his head out of the corner of your eye, seemingly flabbergasted you’d even ask that. “I’d never do that. I really mostly invited you hoping to.. yeah, completely avoid this from happening.” He laughs nervously. “I’m not too good at this, whatever this is.”

“No no it’s okay.” You try to emphasize it’s not a big deal, even if the invisible weight crushing your chest says otherwise. “I really appreciate that you thought of doing this for me. I’m excited! This is way better than sitting around eating my mom’s terrible cooking and listening to your dad rant about how amazing Sunghoon is for the hundredth time.”

Heeseung grins, loosening back up, fingers returning to tap along with the music. “He does tend to do that.”

As much as you can’t fight off your thoughts from racing back to Sunghoon, you keep up conversation with your step-brother, both doing your best to avoid bringing him up again. Heeseung made the effort to get you away from a possibly ugly situation, the least you can do is at least try to have fun. Sunghoon will have to be dealt with later.

“Lines not too bad.” Heeseung parks, directing his chin to the front of the venue. “We can probably get barricade.”

“Cool.” You shrug, not wanting to give off how clueless you are about concert culture as you make your way to the line of fans noticing many seem paired off, couples mostly.

Standing by your step-brother lamely attempting to come up with a topic to talk about, you bump into his side to relieve some tension. “I’m seriously so excited.”

Heeseung’s eyes meet yours, soft and large as he takes in your face up close and nods. He contemplates a reply, sorting from ‘I’m happy to hear that.’ and ‘that’s good, I’m glad.’ Before looking away and muttering.

“Should be a lot of fun.”

When Heeseung had mentioned getting a spot on the barricade you hadn’t realized he meant being front row, as you passed the ticket check and made your way inside he pointed out an empty spot the two of you could squeeze into, albeit a bit tight you managed to get in together and celebrate. “I can’t believe we’re in front!” You squeal, hopping up and down slightly.

“We really lucked out.” He glances around, wishing he’d at least had enough time to hit up the bar for drinks before the opener. Usually Jake could handle holding down a spot for them but given your naivety he opts to stay by your side. “I know you haven’t been to any concerts before but just a heads up, the crowd can get a little rough.”

“Oh, a lot of pushing?”

“Yeah.” Heeseung notices you’re surrounded by mostly larger men, a few girls sprinkled around here and there. At least the audience had a good mixture of both in comparison to the usual show. “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, let me know okay?”

“Ah, I don’t want you to worry about me.” You say, anxiously fixing your hair, only now realizing just how crammed in and close you are to everyone. The warmth building against your back grows suffocating as minutes go by. “I’ll be fine Hee.” 

Heeseung’s cheeks warm up, blaming it on the crowd filling out and getting heavier around him; not the shortened nickname that you’ve never used with him before. The opener finishes setting up, riling everyone up with their introduction and fast paced music. True to your step-brother’s warning, the pushing shocks you initially, throttled forward to be stuck against the top of the barricade railing. You smile through the sting of pain hitting the top of your ribcage, mentally noting to check for bruises later.

“Definitely need to check them out after that.” Heeseung swipes his phone open, tapping to follow the band. Showing no signs of discomfort he turns to you, smile falling. “You good?”

“Yeah yeah, uhm Deftones go on next?”

He shakes his head, full on frowning and snaking his arm around your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t feel good up here, we can move to the back.”

“No!” Draping your hands flat on the barrier, you push up to straighten your spine, cringing at how it aches already. “I want to watch from up here.”

Heeseung’s mouth shifts to one side in thought, eyeing the area around you before bracketing his arms on the barrier. “Get in front of me.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ll stop the shoving.”

“But you’ll get pushed..” you hesitate, hearing snickers from a group of guys behind you.

“I’ll be fine,” Heeseung motions, encouraging you to move in front of him. Easing into the space he created for you, a sense of relief washes over you, taking in short breaths of air without 3 bodies crushed against you. 

He taps the top of your head with his chin, leaning to the side of your face with a smile. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks Hee..” you offer an embarrassed smile, already feeling ashamed that your step-brother did all this to end your humiliation in the first place.

Heeseung does his best to ignore the bickering and scoffs around him, especially the group behind whispering about how the two of you should move to the back. ‘It’s not our problem that your girlfriend can’t hang.’

His neck prickles with sweat, ears perked up listening to the rest of their conversation. ‘Pretty prissy girls like that have no business up front anyway. Dude needs to leave his little girlfriend at home next time.’

Biting down on the backs of his teeth he has to stop himself from twisting around to yell that you’re not his girlfriend, saved by the next band that starts up; he relaxes and keeps the crowd away from you; accepting the brunt of the pain himself.

This is something a guy would do for his step-sister too, right? Why assume you’re his girlfriend, you could easily just be a friend..

Everything’s mostly smooth from there until Deftones attack the stage and guitar riffs blast through the speakers, swaying the crowd unanimously to follow along with the beat. He curses, clenching his fist on the barrier to keep you from following the force of eager bodies.

“Hee, are you okay?!” You ask in a panic, placing your hands over his fist. He nods fast, biting on his tongue as your fingers loop between his to hold him closer to you. His slow reaction allows enough space for another body to squeeze its way through the front, plastering his chest to your back with a gasp from the extra lack of space.

“I’m good! I’m good!” He says, trying to keep his cool with a smile and focus on the show that you’ve been waiting for. “It’s your favorite song!”

Heeseung nods ahead, too worried about keeping you safe to even take in that you’re fully crushed under him, the barrier digging into your chest. Trying his best to enjoy the show he shakes his head and sings along with the words he can remember, breath caught when your head lays back on his chest and you smile up at him.

“I love this song!” 

This isn’t Heeseung’s favorite song, but he remembered that it’s yours, and right as you pull your conjoined hands to lay against your stomach; this song sounds better than ever. 

“I love it too.”

“That was soooo much fun!” 

The two of you managed to squeeze through the crowd fast, your step-brother mentioning wanting to check out the merch before you head out. “I’m sooo sweaty.” you say, shaking off your shirt.

Heeseung looks over the tour shirts hung up, digging out the money his dad gave him. “Want one? We have enough.”

“Oh yeah, that one's really cute!”

“We’ll take two of those.” Heeseung points at the t-shirt, counting enough cash out for both.

“Matching couple tour shirts.” The merch guy says with a laugh. “So cute how many of you think of concerts as date nights.”

“What?” He says with a gulp, peeking from the corner of his eye at your surprised reaction. “We’re no—“

“That’ll be $50, knocked off $10 for the good looking pair.” He winks, passing you the shirts. “Now make this guy go buy you something to eat honey, and whatever you do after, it’s none of my business.”

“Uhh..”

“T-Thanks.” Heeseung stammers, hooking your elbow to drag you out of the crowd toward the exit. The air suddenly a lot tighter and harder to breathe in.

“That was weird, right?” You ask, following him to the car. “Well,” you pause, eyeing him over. “I guess we don’t look alike at all.” 

“People don’t assume the opposite sex can be just friends anymore I guess.” He scoffs, opening the passenger door for you. “He was right about one thing though, you hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply, tossing your bag onto the seat. “But first.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows lift, taking a step back as you begin to remove your shirt, mouth hung open confused. “What are you doing??”

“Told you, I’m drenched.” You say, fanning your chest. “I’d take off my bra too..” you shyly smile, shaking open the new shirt your step-brother just paid for. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

Tugging on the shirt, you reach around beneath to pull off your bra straps, struggling to unclasp the back. “Sorry Hee, can you help?” 

He swallows, eyes gone wide and nodding. “Uh, yeah sure..”

Heeseung moves behind you, pushing the shirt up to your shoulder blades and biting down on his tongue to not comment on how soft your skin feels. No. That’d be weird, right?

“I think the clasp is stuck..” he mumbles, nervously toying with one of the bra clasps that won’t unlatch.

“Ugh, fuck.” You sigh, swatting the air behind you. “Just rip it off.”

Heeseung tightens his lip, air pushing out of his nose to not groan. “Okay.”

He pulls the connected material apart, the sound of seams snapping and popping open under his strength following.

“Jesus, get a room man.” A drunk concert goer slurs out as he passes by, your bra coming undone finally right as your step-brother curses and presses in close to hide your exposed lower back. 

“Fuck off.”

“You know what? He has a point.” You laugh, shaking the t-shirt down your torso. “My step-brother removing my bra for me should probably be done behind closed doors..”

Heeseung can feel his chest rumble from your laughter, shoulders and upper back shaking against him. Instinctively taking a step back before vibration can travel lower as he imagines exactly that.

“Pizza sounds good.” He changes the subject fast, moving to get inside and get the engine warmed up. “You down?”

“Pizza sounds great.”

The two of you fall into easy conversation, excitedly discussing your favorite songs and parts of the concert. Easily finding a place open for 24 hours on the way home, albeit the slices of pizza more stiff and cardboard-like at this late hour with only one employee working the night shift.

“I hope it wasn’t too hard on you, having to watch out for me.” You say apologetically. 

“Wasn’t a big deal, seriously, don’t mention it.”

“I felt really bad though.” You lament, helping him by carrying the box of pizza. “You still got to enjoy the show, right?”

“Are you serious?” Heeseung waves you off, reaching for the passenger door again before you can open it yourself. “Best concert I’ve ever been to.”

“Right?!?” You joke, settling back into your seat with a laugh. “I say as if I’ve ever been to any others, but I have a feeling this will be one of my favorites.”

“I’ll take you to more concerts.” Heeseung hums, tapping the steering wheel before taking off. “Do you wanna go home right now? Or like..”

“Nah, mom will kill my dopamine high if I have to talk to her right now.”

“You’re right.” Snapping his fingers, he mentions the time. “There’s a park not too far from home, it’s empty by now. We can go there to eat and rush home fast if our parents get mad about the hour.”

“Sounds good.”

The parks nice and quiet, a few street lamps barely lighting up the small area where you settle at the top of the jungle gym and sit facing the street with your legs dangling from the top level of the structure.

“Pizzas not that great.” Heeseung laughs, shrugging, stuffing his mouth regardless.

“It’s perfect for a midnight snack.”

Agreeing, you fall into a comfortable silence, attempting to hide your shiver as a chilly breeze passes through. It’s too nice to head home now, unwilling to unless your phone starts to buzz with your mother shouting on the other end.

“Cold?” Heeseung removes his hoodie before you answer, leaning over to lay it down on your shoulders.

“Now you’ll be cold.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

He nods, looking away to admire the speckles of stars scattered between smog and clouds. Heeseung’s really nothing like his brother. No, because Sunghoon wouldn’t wish to spend time with you in this way, unless it involved his dick in your mouth or wherever..

“Hee, can I ask you something?”

Turning to face you, his lips tremble a bit from the rising crisp night air, raising goosebumps along his arms. “What’s up?”

“This is probably..” you hesitate, pulling his hoodie in tighter to your chest. “I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to..” The skin between his eyebrows folds together, head bobbing up and down for you to continue.

“It’s just, Sunghoon..”

Heeseung sighs, leaning back on his palms and dropping his head back. “I don’t know what he thinks about you, he doesn’t talk to me.” He says calmly before you can finish, laying back down flat with his eyes shut. “Sorry, can’t help.”

“It’s not that—well I mean..” you lower, laying on your side to watch his eyelashes twitch against the tops of his cheeks. “You guys really don’t talk and I guess I’m nosey..”

“Oh.” Heeseung blinks, eyes going wide at the realization of how close you are. “You mean like why we don’t talk?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugs, nibbling his bottom lip from side to side nervously. “We used to be really close, inseparable until our parents got divorced.” His eyebrows furrow, smoothing his palms together onto his stomach. “Hoon lived with our mom for a few years, he was always her favorite.”

Regret begins to seep through your chest, feeling like an asshole for even asking now. Of course their rift had to be more personal than some petty feud between brothers..

“We were still somewhat close during that time, but much like now, dad favored Hoonie too. He’s the baby, you know how it is. He needed more attention and coddling I guess.” Heeseung shrugs again, mostly to keep the topic light. “When we were kids he really looked up to me.. at least I always thought so.”

His breath deepens, releasing longer exhales and shutting his eyes again. “Mom got sick, really sick..”

“I’m sorry Heeseung, you don’t have to tell me..” 

“It’s okay.” Tucking in his upper lip, his eyes squeeze tightly, taking deep breaths before continuing. “I kind of dealt with her illness.. maybe improperly? I don’t know, I was a kid..”

“I’m sorry..”

“Hoonie..” his eyes stay shut, squeezing together at the mention of his brother. “When she passed away, I think he really needed me. I couldn’t be there for him.”

Silence thickens between the two of you, laying back down fully by his side in hopes of offering some type of comfort, a silent one of upper arms flushed together.

“I sort of lashed out..” Heeseung goes on, voice more strangled. “I blocked him out when he needed me the most and when the time came that I needed him,” he shrugs softly, huffing. “He wasn’t there for me anymore. I can’t blame him.”

Anything you can think of to say evades your mind, coming up blank with words that would be enough to show your sympathy. Without much thought other than how nice your step-brothers been, you reach for his hand and loop your fingers between his; bringing them down between your sides with a squeeze.

“He looked up to me when we were younger.” Heeseung at least sounds less tense, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes relaxing. “It didn’t really help that he was getting bullied at school too back then. He was a runt, small thing.” There’s an evident smile in his tone now, small enough to barely lift the corner of his mouth.

“I should have stepped in and defended him but..” he grips your hand tightly, thumb brushing back and forth. “Don’t think I regret anything more than those years.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“In some ways.” Heeseung clears his throat, lips pouting. “The least I could have done was take care of him, he’s my baby brother after all..”

“Nothing could have prepared any of you for what happened. Someday he’ll understand that..”

Heeseung wishes he could agree, but while his mourning period led to sadness and a crushed sense of hope, his brothers landed him in darkness. A cold bitter darkness, gradually day by day stripping away the last specks of light that once made up all of Sunghoon. 

“Yeah.” He lets out a tired sigh, head shaking and forcing a smile. “I’m sure someday we’ll live our own lives and he’ll see me as his trustworthy older brother again.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” 

“Haven’t talked about this in such a long time honestly.” He smiles, lifting your hands to rest on his stomach again. “Dad would be shocked by how much we’re getting along right now.”

“It’s weird, right?” You laugh meekly, eyes drifting to your conjoined hands. “That you’re like…” drifting off, your nose crinkles; recalling your friends joking about which of your step-brothers you’d be hooking up with first. “My brother.”

Heeseung’s eyes open up, stomach folding in from shooting up, letting out a hollered laugh. “Oh that was really weird, especially after having to hear that you’re my girlfriend from random strangers for the past 3 hours.”

He sits back up, easing his hold out of yours to smooth a palm down his nape out of nervous habit. 

“I can understand them.” You sit up with him, grabbing onto one of the steel bars to lean in closer to him. “We don’t make a bad looking couple.”

Heeseung’s thankful for the lack of lighting as heat rushes up his neck and burns its way under his eyes, cheeks more than likely bright pink full of blood. “Ah—well, good thing I’m not your type.”

“What?”

“You like Sunghoon.” He says nonchalantly. “Everyone likes him, he’s my brother so like—no I don’t get it.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I see the way everyone fawns over him though, pretty used to it by now.”

“I don’t like Sunghoon.” You grumble. That’s a lie, possibly, or maybe a conversation you’re not ready to have with yourself, let alone your step-brother. “And honestly, you’re way more my type than him.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious!” You shriek, reaching for his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re freezing!”

“It’s not that bad, feels good after being stuck together in that pit.”

“Come here,” scooting closer to him, you pull him into your chest, arm wrapping around his back to draw him into your warmth. “Can’t have you getting sick on me, we have concerts to go to now.”

Heeseung blinks furiously, tucking his chin in to ignore the rapid pace his heart gains, beating against his chest fiercely enough to fear that even you can feel it. “You’re right.” He keeps it short, lips trembling more due to his nerves than the temperature.

“This feels nice.” 

He nods, shifting slightly to rest his arm around your lower back and make the position you’ve ended up in more comfortable. “We should probably head home though, before your mom realizes you’re not safely tucked in bed.”

“I don’t know Hee.” You murmur, digging your nose into his now dried head of hair, a tangy scent of sweat and shampoo left behind. “I don’t want this night to end.” Or to have to see your brother again, let alone deal with whatever that was all about earlier..

Heeseung shivers against your chest, more from his excitement, but accepts the coo you let out and soothing rub down his spine. “Okay okay, don’t want you to catch hypothermia. You’re right, it’s getting late.”

“Sorry,” maintaining eye contact with his lap, he removes himself from your hold, taking deep breaths to ward off his thoughts. 

She’s your sister. She’s your sister. She’s your sister.

Step-sister.

“Before we go, I really do want to say thanks for everything.” You say, completely unaware of the mental war your step-brothers battling with. “From getting me out of the house, the concert, this cute shirt.” You lean back, pulling at the hem, only pronouncing your breast more through the material; not allowing him much of a choice but to look and notice how hard and obviously perked your nipples poke through. Right.. your bras currently residing in the backseat of the car..

“The pizza, bringing me here.” You list out everything, sporting a giant smile. “I seriously haven’t felt this happy in awhile. I kind of.. really needed this before losing my mind.”

Heeseung returns the smile, sharing your sentiment silently. “I’ll do my best from now on to make this a part of our routine.”

“It’s really a shame.”

“Hmm? What is?”

“That our parents ended up together.” You mumble, scanning his face anxiously. “You’re better than—I don’t know.. kind of lame to admit but I tried to picture different scenarios in which we’d somehow get to know each other.” You struggle to say, sucking air between your teeth. “Ah, I guess I kind of had a crush on you? Not really? But kind—“

Heeseung’s thighs bounce against the jungle gym, resisting the urge to lunge at you and smother you in kisses. The need grows harder and harder the more you go on and demurely shift around to avoid his gaze. It’s the whiny pout you fall into while saying you may or may not have had a crush on your step-brother that sets him off; pushing his upper half toward you and dropping the weight of his mouth upon yours with heated urgency.

It’s harder and sloppier than he intends for, swatting away every thought and emotion that could fully develop since the day you stepped inside of his bedroom with a curious glint in your eye. Beyond physical attraction, Heeseung can’t stop the annoying itch in his chest, the one warming him up from inside out everytime you’ve looked at him tonight. His nose crushes into the side of yours, the seam of his lips engulfing more of your top lip than managing to act out an actual kiss.

Drawing away with flushed cheeks, he licks his lips and begins spewing out an apology, shaking his head embarrassed. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m—“

The back of his head bounces against the metal walls behind him, hissing against your lips shoving into his. Mouth more commanding than his as you scramble to invade his space and drop your bottom onto his lap. 

“Sorr—“

“Shh, kiss me back, kiss me.” Between rushed bated breath and a messy lock of lips, you rock further into him, reaching for the holes scattered around the jungle gym walls to bury your fingers in and cage his head between your arms.

Heeseung’s hands flail for a minute, slapping down on your hips to grab onto something with a groan as your tongue probes between the line of his lips for access. The wet slip of your tongue glides through easily, making him gasp inside of your mouth as you wiggle a way through to taste the spit gathered at the sides of his tongue.

“Woah,” he draws back, lips already swollen from the short kiss. “What—we can’t!”

“Why?” Your eyebrows lift, concerned but dropping your bottom onto his lap hungry for more. “You don’t feel it??”

“What?!” Heeseung sits up, belting your waist to keep you in place, regrettably as you swivel in place right against his groin. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you like me?” You say pathetically, nearly ready to give up the more humiliating this becomes.

“Of course I do!” He laments, massaging up your sides. “I think I like you way more than I’m supposed to.”

“Hee, you’re not my brother.” You state, tucking his cold hands inside of your shirt to warm up against your stomach. “There’s nothing wrong about us kissing.”

Heeseung swallows, telling himself- well that’s simply not true. Other than that fact alone that you are… sleeping with his younger brother. 

“It’s late.” Heeseung sighs, pretending to yawn. “Let me take you home and we can talk about this after a good night's rest.”

“You can’t be serious.” Half offended and with a last stitch of effort you grab onto his hands, pushing them up your stomach, brushing along the underside of your breasts. “I know you feel it.”

Heeseung gulps, head dropping back against the jungle gym with a groan. “Yeah I.. I feel that..”

“It’s okay Hee, I want you.” Leaning in, you capture his mouth once more, sucking in his bottom lip as your hands encourage him to squeeze your chest. 

As hesitant as he feels, Heeseung can’t stop himself from squeezing your breasts, eyes fluttering shut as his length throbs inside of his boxers. “I want you too, you have no idea how bad I want this..”

“Let me see,” you say between kisses, rubbing your tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Show me, do anything you want with me.”

Heeseung’s stomach sinks, unable to stop his mind from drifting to the rough sounds he heard coming from his brother’s bedroom. What if you’re expecting him to be like Sunghoon..

“Please, let me take you home at least. I promise..” he breathes between your lips, softly layering kisses. “I’ll show you.”

“Ugh, fine.” Reluctantly you agree, it is cold out here after all and anyone could walk by, not that you’d mind the idea of getting caught..

Heeseung struggles to tear away from your mouth on the way back to the car, spending another extra 5 minutes with you pressed up to the door and his hands roaming freely under your shirt again. “If you don’t drive me home right now I am going to take off my clothes right here.”

“Okay okay.” He chuckles, running around after getting you inside and clicking your seatbelt. Heeseung mentally pats himself on the back for choosing a park not far from home, especially when you pull his right arm away from the steering wheel to guide him between your thighs.

“I’m so wet for you Hee.”

Practically crashing as he turns into your neighborhood, he coughs, squeezing your inner thigh and speedily parking to get out as fast as he can. “My room.”

Heeseung wraps your arms around his waist, a soft smile spreading across his lips as you both struggle to get up the stairs with your limbs locked around each other. “Your room because you wanna play DJ?”

He blushes, turning the doorknob behind his back and draw you into his bedroom. 

“That obvious?”

“You’re really cute.” You confess, bunching the sides of his shirt up in your fists to keep your bodies close. “Like really really cute.”

Heeseung’s cheeks could alert the fire department, burning up his face hot enough to make his eyes water up. “Ah, you think I’m lame.”

“I think you’re..” the two of you shuffle toward his bed, slowly lifting his top up to his waist. “Sexy..” 

He pulls it off the rest of the way for you, tossing the shirt aside, feeling shy even in the dim lighting entering from the window; breath caught in his throat as you duck to lick his chest, lips trapping one of his nipples with a gentle suck. Fingernails trail down his abdomen, grabbing onto the waistband of his jeans.

“No no..” taking a hold of your hands as you start to unzip him, he stammers taking in your mouth falling to a frown. “No! I mean, feels really good, but..”

Heeseung squeezes your hips, lifting you off your feet for less than a second to set you down on his bed. “Let me show you.”

Running a hand through his hair, he blushes furiously, positive you can feel the heat radiating off his face. He makes fast to the record player, dropping the needle in place to start the album he’d been listening to earlier, your favorite one.

Bending over your body, he bites down on his lips, softly pushing your shirt up your torso as the gentle hum of music reverberates around you.

Don’t wanna take it slow, I wanna take you home and watch the world explode from underneath your glow

Heeseung leaves your shirt just beneath your breasts, hovering over you to kiss along the top of your ribcage, following a path downward to your navel until his mouth meets the button of your shorts. The slow rise and fall of your chest calms his worry, unbuttoning you and easing your bottoms down to your ankles for you to kick away. He shifts down to his knees, prying your thighs open gently, allowing him a perfect view of your drenched through panties completely molded to your core.

“You’re sexy.” Perfect even, Heeseungs says to himself, planting kisses up the sensitive skin lining your inner thigh. “Cute, pretty, hot.” Kissing his way up, he takes extra time to suck on the tender skin where your thigh meets your center. “So so so sexy..”

A low whine sounds above him, your back arching upward the more he teases, tracing the dip between your center and shoving the material of your underwear into your entrance. “Hee!” 

“Shhh…” he licks the dip, tongue stiffening to push your underwear between your slit, tracing up to your clit to suck on through the soaked ruined fabric. Heeseung can’t take it anymore, innate hunger winning against his willpower as he holds your thighs open, planting them to spread out on his bed and drag his nose between the seam taking in a deep inhale. Slurping up the mess of wetness that seeps through the material of your underwear, most of it hitting his chin, trickling down onto the bed.

The groan vibrating against your core has your hips lifting, seeking a way to close your legs out of embarrassment that he could be smelling everything. “Hee, thats—“

Greedily sucking the rest of the wetness that’s smeared along the insides of your thighs, he has to shove aside how hard and painful his cock throbs. That can come later, figuratively and literally.

Playing with the trim lining the waistband of your underwear, he rubs the fabric between his fingers before rolling it down past your knees with practiced finesse; quickly clutching your thighs in a firm grip before you can manage to shut them, he pushes them down as wide as they’ll spread, fully exposing your core. 

Heeseung’s breath catches, nearly groaning at the up close visual of your swollen aroused cunt, dripping a lewd amount out all the way down to his bedding. “So pretty.” He blows, sending a tremor up your thighs. “Just as pretty down here as you are everywhere else.”

Leaning in before you can let out another shattered cry, he licks a thick stripe from your entrance up to your clit. Humming in the back of his throat as your arousal pours down to the back of his tongue. Velvety engorged folds spread out against the pressure of his wide tongue working back and forth to touch each crevice between your legs.

Heeseung can hear your breath quicken and grow louder, plunging into your pulsating wet hole with his nose rubbing against your clit. He groans, dizzy, drunk and brainless as he rubs his face back and forth. Lapping past the resistance of your muscle, he licks and sucks, collecting the wetness pouring from your dripping pussy to swallow down like water. The fingers reaching into his hair pull him to bury in deep, jaw stretching until he hears a crack. He grunts from the pulls on his scalp, slipping free from your cunt to lick up the sides, between your folds, outside and in until his tongue has tasted every inch. 

“Oh my God Hee!” Your feet kick, just barely under his unrelenting hold to keep you spread open. Dragging his tongue up and down repeatedly until a mess of slick covers him from chin to forehead. “S’too—too much, ah—“

His lips press to your clit, sucking the fat nub between his lips with extra force that has you biting down on your hand to not scream. “You’re—no, I’ll—I’ll cum!” Whining, you grow more impatient, unable to stop your hips from twitching up even under his large palms pressing you down. Heeseung could care less, 

lost in the scent and heat of your cunt, he sucks and licks your clit mercilessly, flicking the bud roughly with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh!” Your face squeezes tight, head pushing off from the bed, arching against his mouth giving you no rest. “I’m cumming—I’m cumming!” You chant, mouth hanging open without breathing as an intense orgasm rips through your body, choking on your breath and finally writhing free from Heeseung’s hold when he doesn’t stop; lapping at your freshly spilled entrance like a thirsty dog.

“E-enough.” You tremble, shutting your thighs and turning onto your side, shirt drifting up under your neck and armpits leaving you mostly bare.

Heeseung sits up on the bed, kissing up the side of your thigh to your hip. “Wouldn’t have stopped, you taste so good.”

Now it’s your turn to hide, tucking your face into one of his pillows with a whine. “Ahh, don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” The clink of his zipper lowering follows, turning back around to lay flat and remove your shirt just in time to see Heeseung kick away his pants and boxers, cock standing hard against his stomach; high enough for the head to hit his navel.

He’s big too. 

Biting your lip, you sit up to kiss him, making a face at the amount of slick still coating his chin. Heeseung had no plan to clean any of it off. 

He stares at you wide-eyed and breathless, leaning over you until you lay flat on your back again, brushing hair away from your face. Going in for the kiss first this time, he opens your mouth up with an aggressive push of his tongue; licking inside of your mouth similar to the way he ate you out, messy, greedily drinking the spit that escapes past your lips. More swollen and bitten raw once he settles against your chest and scoops the back of your thighs around his hips.

Leaving your knees bent to cage around him, Heeseung smooths a palm down between your breasts, down past your stomach to grab a hold around his length. He bites down, already covered in your arousal in less than a minute of your lower halves touching. “So wet.” Mumbling to himself, he delivers a few strokes to his length, spreading your slick down to the tip, not that you need the extra lubrication.

Heeseung’s hand trembles around the base of his cock, a reminder of how nervous he actually is as he drags the tip between your folds, dipping in and out of your entrance just enough to have your head spinning. Pawing at his chest to give you more as he teases and groans at how loud the sound of your wetness radiates; pushed in and out against the kisses meeting his cockhead.

“Hee, please, please fuck me.” You say, feeling delirious with each empty deceived clench from your body, chasing after the stretch only his cock can give you.

Finally pushing in past the tip, his chest lays flat against yours, stealing the gasped moan you let out with a fierce kiss. Burying in deeper until he meets obstruction and lets a broken cry inside of your warm wet mouth. 

“F-fuck me baby,” you moan, sucking his bottom lip in with hard bite. “Show me, show me.”

Heeseung’s forehead wrinkles, biting down and grinding his teeth to not whimper between short staggered breaths. He won’t last if he fucks you the way he really wants to. The way he needs to.

Nodding rapidly, he tries to memorize every squeeze that your soft wet wall's pulse around him. Wet, so insanely wet, pouring down to his balls, forming a mess between even his thighs. Heeseung lifts back with heavy eyes to watch your face fall apart, tongue lolled out with nothing behind your eyes but unruly lust. “Fuck me.”

He lets go, rolling his hips forward as hard and deep as you can take him.

“Oh fuckkk!” Heeseung gasps as you arch against him, slapping his chest with balled up fists. It’s better than either of you could have imagined, chasing a fast release off instinct alone while still holding back to make each sensation last longer.

“You’re so tight,” Heeseung says with a linger of pain in his tone. Taking a hold of your wrists, he pins them to your chest, gently shushing your cries. Slowly dragging his cock out halfway and back in to ease the stretch. “You okay?”

A choked moan passes through your lips, nodding fast. “S-so big.”

Kissing your chin, Heeseung nods and loosens his hold on your wrist, easing your hands to lay flat by your head. “Relax for me,” taking a deep breath, he pushes in to the hilt, lower back aching the more he holds himself back from fucking you in earnest and pounding you through his bed. “Can you do that for me?”

A faint ‘yes’ shudders out, losing your breath as he starts to drag his dick out, hissing with each reflexive clench you give him. Heeseung tries, he really tries to hold back, pushing through your heated resistance slowly, but with each glide back in a mess of slick wetness drips out past the intrusion of his size. The smear of wetness leaking down to his thighs in fat wads now, coating the back of your ass and thighs, making each collision of your meeting skin more debauched. 

Another squeeze around him has a broken cry ripping from his throat, moistening the backs of his eyes as he finally breaks and snaps forward to bury in balls deep, making you feel every inch. Heeseung rides through your clamped heat, thrusts turning erratic with his digits finding purchase in your wrist; painfully digging his nails into the soft skin hard enough to leave behind marks of crescent moons.

Rapid tightening pressure around his cock draws more effort on his part, planting his knees on the bed to fuck you with more strength behind his hips. Through the wet layer fogging his gaze he finds your eyes, blown wide with your mouth hung open pouring saliva from the corners. His heart jumps fiercely enough to make him fear it could erupt, ears gone numb to all other than the wanton sounds of your whimpers traced between the song playing.

No one else has a hold over me like you do

You open up the covers, you lure me in

Tackle me anxious, back into bed

Well, I hope to discover all of your ways

This place is death, I know you feel the same

He can’t stop the embarrassingly desperate noises that drip from his mouth as he fucks you with renewed urgency, pressing down until you are chest to chest to snake his hands under your ass and push your hips against his. The new angle gets him in even deeper somehow, nose scrunched up as a strong wave of heat runs rampant in his stomach, tightening up the heavy weight between his thighs. “C-close—I’m so so c-close.”

Struggling to keep up his thrusts the more you tighten up, Heeseung shifts, smoothing down the side of your thigh to wrap around the back of your knee and push your thigh up. The mind-numbing pleasured cry you let out has him fucking into you with abandon, desperate to get you off before he can finish. 

“Come on,” he grits, fingers digging into your leg, calve jostling by your head under the force of his weight pummeling against you. “C’mon baby.” He hits deep, the head of his length kissing your cervix, grinding with a low growling moan.

“P-plea—“ breaking off, your neck bends back, eyes meeting the back of your skull letting a silent cry fly free. Heeseung tries to fuck you through it, beginning to sweat down his face as he grips onto your leg harder and rams forward. 

“Fuckmefuckme,” you babble deliriously between whimpers, tears spilling down your cheeks. “W-want it, cum inside me, f-fuck—want it, want it!” You moan, half pained by over sensitivity the longer he goes, reaching to run your fingers through his hair in search of something to pull on.

Heeseung grunts, leaning in to lick the droplets of salty tears dangling from your chin, gone senseless beyond the addictive warmth sucked around his cock. “I-I’m—fuck!”

A handful of sloppy thrusts more has his balls clenching up, so heavy where they slap and land against the crevice of your ass. He curses, burying himself as deep as your body can take to spill inside. Cock thrumming madly with each shot of hot streaks of cum pouring out. “C-cumming” he gasps, mouth gone dry with spit covering his chin, slumping down onto you with a long sigh.

“Hee..” you cough, leg dropping from his weakened hold. “Can’t breathe.”

“Sorry sorry..” Heeseung bites his lip, pushing his upper half up on numbed arms, slowly drawing his hips back. “Ugh..” he has to look away as white creamy release chases after his length, cock throbbing from the sight of your needy hole gaping open and shut. “Sorry for that..”

“It’s okay.”

He reaches for your shirt before settling back next to you, eyes heavy with sleep and cheeks bunched up from a lazy smile.

“I should probably go to my room before my mom wakes up.” You say sadly, dragging a finger down his lips. “Don’t want to.”

“Don’t want you to.” Heeseung kisses, chasing after your finger with an open mouth. “We can just tell her the truth, that you slept in here.”

“The whole truth?”

“Well, no..” he says, capturing the tip of your finger to suck around, slowly sliding off with a wet pop. “She’d probably never let you out of the house again if she found out about..”

“Yeah..” you share a look, sighing sadly. “Try not to dream of me too much, lover boy.”

Stepping back into your underwear with a grimace, you throw your shorts into his hamper, winking at him and ordering that he wash them for you before you exit.

Heeseung can feel his cheeks itch with heat again, covering his eyes with a smile. How can he still feel shy after all of that..

“Goodnight.”

“Nighty.” You say, cheeks aching from smiling so much. 

“Well well well.” Sunghoon stands across the hallway as you do your best to quietly tiptoe your way out of Heeseung’s bedroom, jumping up and covering your mouth to not scream at his shadowy figure looming nearby. “What do we have here?”

“Hoon?” You say after a night of listening to Heeseung use the nickname over and over again. “What the hell are you doing out here? It’s like 3am.”

“I should ask you the same thing. What the hell are you doing sneaking out of my brother's bedroom in the middle of the night, huh?” Sunghoon steps into the small streak of light coming through the hallway window, jaw flexed tight. “I told you that I’d find out.”

“What? By standing out here with your ear pressed against the door like some creep? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Don’t change the subject.” Sunghoon corners you, pushing your shoulders against the wall. “And keep your voice down, you’re lucky our parents room is on the other side of the house with those dying animal squeals you were screaming out.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“Anyway,” he traces down the side of your face, flinching away from his touch only for his hand to cup around your jaw and keep your eyes on him. “No more of this, I’ll let it go just this one time because you’re pretty dumb.”

“I don’t need to listen to anything you say.”

“Oh, but you do, don’t you?” He speaks softly, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “And you will.”

“Why? Because you’ll run and tell my mommy that you made me suck your dick for some test answers?” You sneer, slapping your palm on his forearm. 

“I’m giving you a warning.” Sunghoon pecks your upper lip and Cupid’s bow, leaving out any mention of why. Not because he likes you or anything, not Park Sunghoon. “Take it seriously or don’t. Either way you’ll learn to listen to me.”

Pressing a firm kiss to your lips, he lingers, pecking the top and bottom over and over again. “Hate to think you let him defile that pretty mouth, almost repulses me to kiss you right now.”

Sunghoon backs up, raising an eyebrow and grabbing onto your elbows. “Let’s get you washed up before you go to sleep at least, you smell like cum.”

“Hoon, stop!” You whisper, panicked as he leads you to his bedroom. “Where are you taking me!”

Sunghoon kicks his bedroom door open, maneuvering you to his personal bathroom. “You can’t be this stupid.”

“Let me go!” 

“Shut up.” He snarls, pushing you toward the shower door. “Get in there, and make sure you clean yourself good.”

“What the fuck is your problem?!” You whine, forced inside as he barricades the open glass door and leers at you, nodding his chin at your shirt. 

“Tick tock, I’m waiting.” Sunghoon eyes the shirt hanging on your frame, reaching for the collar to pull on. “Is this Heeseung’s?! You’re wearing his clothes now???”

“Let go! You’re stretching it!”

Ignoring you, he pulls more, not even fazed by the slaps you deliver as he reaches for the hem and pulls the material up over your face leaving you no choice but to let him take it off. He lets out a sound of disapproval, reaching for the sides of your underwear. “You didn’t seriously let that asshole bust a nut inside of you.”

“Stop!” 

Sunghoon growls, pushing himself inside the shower until your back meets the chilled tile wall with a shiver. “You’re more disgusting than I thought, when did you start fucking him? Before or after our parents got married.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer, turning the shower on with the water beating down on your head. “Can’t believe he fucked you before me.” He mutters, shoving your now completely soaked underwear down. “You probably think he’s so fucking nice, don’t you?”

Tears well up in your eyes before you can blink them away fast enough, slapping the heel of your palms on his drenched shirt. “You are the only asshole here.”

“You fucking like it.” Sunghoon smirks, uncapping a bottle of body wash to squirt on your chest. “Clean it all out, it’s bad enough I have to fuck you after he did.”

“What?!” He throws a brand new washcloth at you, stepping back to the door dripping water all over the bathroom floor, head snapping with command. 

“Hurry up, my dicks getting hard watching you act so helpless.” He winks, reaching for the shower head to aim between your thighs, focused on the remnants of thick white cum seeping out from between your clenched thighs. “You let him fuck your ass too?”

Sunghoon asks as you turn away from him to reach between your legs and push out the last bits of Heeseung’s cum, nose scrunched in disgust from his comment. Pinching your buttcheek, he laughs, moving back to discard his wet clothing into a dirty hamper. “I guess you weren’t lying about not being a virgin after all, shame.” Licking the backs of his teeth, he scoffs. “My dicks bigger than his anway.”

“I’m going to my room.” You say, turning off the shower after rinsing the soap off of your skin. “And you are going to leave me alone.”

Sunghoon lets out a slow fake laugh, dropping his pajama bottoms when you turn to look at him. The white bathroom background illuminating his porcelain complexion, defined muscles flexing as he reaches for the top of the shower door, showing off his bare naked body. “Am I now?”

“Why do you even want me?”

He hums, making slow movements to bring down his arms and circle the ring on his finger, leisurely sliding it off and setting the silver band down on the bathroom counter. “Why do you think?

“You can have anyone you want.”

“Exactly.” Sunghoon tips his chin in, fitting his gaze down your wet chest and stomach. “And I want you.” Stepping back into the shower, he moves forward, a smile growing on one side of his face with each step back you take until you hit the wall again, chest rising and falling more rapidly as he looks over your figure. “Hard to believe, right?”

Tapping your nose, his index finger drags down from there, tracing the outline of your lips to your chin and the center of your neck. “Heeseung and I have always shared a similar type though.”

The mention of his brother makes you flinch, stomach churning with guilt as his finger lowers and flicks your nipples, breathily laughing the more you twitch under his taunting touch. “Or maybe he just always wants what I have.”

“You don’t have me.” You seeth under your breath, turning away from his steely gaze. 

“Don’t I?” Continuing to trace, he circles your navel, smoothing the pathway lower to the heat between your thighs. “You want me to stop?”

Lack of response and eye contact pulls another laugh out of him, crawling his digits down past your mound to your upper thighs. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Lack of air clears your lungs, finding it impossible to breathe, shutting your eyes to ignore the guilt clawing through your chest from inside out. Sunghoon hums, sliding a knee between your thighs for access to your center. “Look at me.”

With a gulp, you blink, slowly lifting your gaze to find his eyes. Black large pupils stare back at you, ridden with lust and desire, he leans closer, mouth hovering yours. “Good girl.”

The middle of your chest caves, shoulders slumping in as he cups around your core and groans, lips pulled over his teeth. “Can’t say no when you’re already this wet.”

Sighing, you accept your fate knowing in the back of your mind that you could have tried harder to stop him, you should have tried harder to stop him…

Sunghoon’s eyes stay locked on yours, tickling lower until the tips of his fingers find your entrance and scoop up the embarrassing amount of slick that’s already begun to pour out. It’s only because his brother just fucked you, that’s what you say to convince yourself. 

His hand raises between your faces, mouth dropped open letting out a dramatic gasp. “Look at that, so fucking wet it’s dripping down to my wrist, you dirty little..” he breaks off into a grin, shoving the coated fingers to your lips and pushing inside for you to gag around. “Taste it, that’s all for me. That’s your body begging for me.”

It’s not your fault he’s right.. even as you choke and spit around his digits finding the way to the back of your throat, you can’t deny the spike of heat building from your lower belly. 

Sunghoon swipes his fingers clean of your wet arousal and spit over your chin and cheeks, further adding to how degrading he treats you. The way your heart hammers through your chest makes it hard to convince yourself that you hate it..

He lets out a throaty chuckle, licking the mess off your chin and biting down on your bottom lip. “You really are something.” A smug smile pulls at his lips, reaching up to move your wet hair behind your ears. “You even look pretty out of the shower, you know that?”

“..really?”

Sunghoon’s tongue prods between his lips, licking at one side proudly, eyebrows furrowing as what he just said settles. “Yeah..” stifling his breath, he backs away with a fake cough, stepping out uncomfortably. “I’m not going to fuck you in the shower though.”

Silence hangs between the two of you for a minute, telling yourself you could still try to leave… you could..

He backs up to the door, grabbing onto the sides halfway out of the bathroom into his bedroom, full eyebrows raised at you before turning away.

He’s right, you are stupid.

Sunghoon’s standing with his back faced toward you, waiting for you to make the next move. Reaching for his shoulder, you gingerly lay your hand down, already short of breath. “Hoon..”

“You want it?” He asks, voice deep, carrying a hint of a smile in his tone. 

“Yes..”

Turning to you fast he pushes you to the wall, breath knocked out as his palms circle your waist. “What do I get out of it? Your used up pussy?”

“You get to fuck me.” Your mouth goes dry, lip shaking half from nerves, half out of anger. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“I can fuck you regardless.” Amusement carries in his voice, sliding one hand to your throat. “Better than he can too, wanna find out?”

With burning cheeks you duck your face in, tongue heavy in your mouth keeping your lips shut tight. “You really like him, huh?” He huffs, cursing under his breath. “That’s fine. I can change that.”

Sunghoon squats down, arms curling under your thighs to lift your feet off the floor, a cocky smile stretching across his face as he catches your shocked gasp. Propping your back against the wall, his teeth grit, hoisting your weight into his hold with added renewed strength, more determined to fuck your brain into nothing but a puddle of liquid. “Because believe me, he’ll never fuck you like this.”

His arms slide behind your knees getting a firm grip on your hips, cock dragging between your folds. “God, you’re so wet.” He sucks in a sharp breath, knees bending to get the head of his cock lined up with your hole. “Get this wet just from me being mean to you or what?” 

His teeth grind, still managing to breathe a chuckle through his exertion. “Just wanna get fucked? Doesn’t matter if I put it in your throat or pussy, probably even let me fuck your ass right now wouldn’t you?”

“N-no..”

The tip of his cock tugs at the muscle of your entrance, prodding no more than the slit in, arousal jolting through you with each teasing pass. It takes a second between your chest tightening and stomach flipping over to realize Sunghoon’s palms have lowered, landing a stinging slap to cup your ass; slowly dragging your back upwards on the wall to allow for his cock to fully enter inside in one fell swoop.

“What was that?!” He growls, cock throbbing.

“Yes!” You breathe in, eyes rolling back, chest heaving up and down. “Please—fuck me, a-ah, fuck me!”

and Sunghoon listens, thrusting forward with a firm grind, cock fully sheathed rearranging your insides. “That’s right. Want me to fuck your pussy real good? Want me to fuck that pussy the way it deserves to be fucked?” He spits, eyes ablaze with a crazed want, need to release. The stretch from his cock still manages to burn and sting, unable to lock your legs around him from the position he holds you in, full control over your body left to his arms flexed around you; pushing past the clenched up fight of muscle wrapped around him.

“God so fucking good.” His hips pull back, snapping forward at a maddening pace; rocking into your heat hard and rough, enough to make it hurt. “Such a good girl.”

Shivers rock up your spine, powerless to his strength over you as you weakly grip onto his shoulders for balance and security out of fear of falling. “Hoonie..”

He groans, head tipping back listening to your muffled broken moans, the call of his name shooting straight to his cock. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” He stammers, sweat collecting on his brow bone the more he exerts, hips unrelenting with each skin-slapping piston he delivers. “Don’t even know how fucking good you are.”

The veins lining Sunghoon’s neck pulsate violently, picking up his pace even more, balls slapping loudly throughout his bedroom with every thrust. The sound of wetness gushing between your bodies drills fear in your chest, loud enough that anyone passing by outside would be able to pick up easily on. “H-hoon… I’m—cum, I’ll c-cum..” you try to say clearly, on the verge of bursting around the unforgiving slam of his length.

“Fucking cum then! cum around my cock.” He doesn’t slow down, gaze focused carefully on watching the juncture where his dick disappears past your pulsating dripping wet cunt. Sucking in another sharp breath, he slaps your ass again. “Cum.”

That sends you flying over the edge, groaning out loud, arms gone limp over his shoulders; whole body jerking back against the wall from the overstimulation. Sunghoon fucks into you roughly as your release drenches past his cock, clapping the wet mess from his thighs to your ass, and it hurts, shocking your neck ramrod straight with wide eyes. “No—h-hurts!”

“Did I fucking cum yet?” He says between clenched teeth, dropping your jelly-like limp legs from his arms, punctuating the question with a particularly rough thrust. Breathing out harshly, he looks animalistic, wild eyes glaring at you before ripping your shoulder from the wall to slam you against it on your front; chest hitting hard stealing a gasp of breath from your lungs.

“I say when we are done.” He says, splitting your ass open to push his length back in. “You asked to get fucked, so you’re going to get fucked.”

Sunghoon groans, fingertips finding your hips to bury into, thrusting too hard and fast for you to fully enjoy. Round after round between the two brothers finally taking it out of you, whimpering in over sensitivity as he hits deep inside of you and rips another orgasm out of you, much weaker than the last. “Oh that’s so good,” he grunts, fucking into you harder. “The way your pussy sucks around me just like that.”

He keeps at it, muttering about how good your cunt feels the tighter you get. “I’d never fuck my girlfriend like this.” Sunghoon breathes into your ear, eyelashes fluttering wildly at the way you grip around him, and then he’s cumming. Cock buried deep inside, pumping out drop after drop of his release between breathless groans. “Fuck.”

Sighing, he drops flat against you kissing your sweaty nape.

“Now you’re going to listen to me once and for all.” He thrusts again, pushing out his cum with each backstroke. “And end this shit with my brother, or else I swear..” biting the shell of your ear he pants heavily, licking down to your earlobe. “I’ll make sure you both regret it. Don’t want that, do you?”

Layering kisses down your cheek, he bites your jaw down to your chin, burying inside to the hilt again. “Be a good girl.”

“Fuck off.” You mumble, more than past sensitivity between your thighs. Emptied and exhausted you fall back, slapping his forearm around your waist weakly. “No more.”

“Be quiet.” He grunts, turning you both around and throwing you down on his bed on your stomach, mounting your hips to line his cock back up to your hole. “And take it.” 

Sunghoon’s an idiot.

At least that’s what you can’t help to think as he stomps into the kitchen and lets out an overdramatic wheeze at the sight of you squished against his brother’s side at the kitchen island.

“Well.” Popping his lips, he tucks them in, dimples pinching deep holes into his cheek. “Aren’t the two of you up early.” He says, eyes laser focused on you. “Did you even sleep?”

Heeseung stiffens up, swiping away from one of the videos he recorded during the concert; locking his phone and moving to stand.

“Hee, where are you going?”

Sunghoon scoffs, opening the fridge up aggressively in search of a protein shake, mouthing ‘HEE?!’ where he faces away from you.

“Uhm,” Heeseung scratches his neck, quickly glancing at his brother and then back at you. “Back to my room.”

“You have fun in there.” Sunghoon interrupts, mixing his pre-workout. “You.” Snapping his fingers in your face, he melts you in place with a sleek angry glare. “Tutoring in an hour, your professor emailed again and you have a test this week.”

“Yeah no.” Getting up to follow behind Heeseung, you flip Sunghoon off on your way out. “Can’t meet with you today, sorry! Don’t worry though, I’ll find a way to get some studying done.”

Sunghoon crushes the now emptied protein shake carton in his grip, stopping himself from running after you to drag you to his room by your hair. “What a little..”

Brushing off your attitude, he swipes open his phone to open up a chat with your mother to inform her of your negligence; emphasizing how worried he is over you passing this class, adding in that at this rate you will without a doubt fail.

He response comes in shortly, thanking him more than once for putting up with you. ‘She won’t be wasting any more of your time, I’ll be sure to cut off her subscriptions if she tries to pull this. Please give her one more chance Hoonie, you sweet darling boy❤️’

Smirking, he pockets his phone, counting down his fingers for the sound of your scream after the telltale ring of your cell phone carries from upstairs.

“What?! Mom! No!” 

Feisty. Sunghoon laughs to himself, pleased on his way back to his bedroom only to be stopped by your figure running toward him.

“What is your problem!” You hiss, lightly shoving his shoulder. “You seriously fucking called my mom to snitch on me?”

“No,” Sunghoon pouts innocently, breaking into a smile. “I texted.”

Practically foaming at the mouth, you grab him by the shirt, pulling him toward your bedroom. “Listen to me asshole!” You shriek, using all of your strength to push him inside of your room, kicking the door shut behind you. “How many times do I need to tell you to leave me alone?!”

Sunghoon smiles, shrugging as he begins to look around your room. “You’re kind of turning me on, try saying it again.”

“Sunghoon!” Charging at him, you throw your body forward at his chest, knocking him back enough for his ass to plant on your bed, surprise drawing his eyebrows up his forehead.

“What happened to.. what was it again?” Snapping his fingers, he taps his chin, eyes widening. “Oh right! Hoon! Hoonie!!!” He drags out, moaning in a high pitched tone.

“Last night was a one time thing.”

“Sure,” Sunghoon leans back on his palms, biting a smile away as he eyes you. “Sucks that you left me to wake up alone though..”

Coiled heat spirals through your gut, forcing yourself to look away. “I don’t need to get in trouble because of your ass on top of everything, luckily for me I managed to wake up after you fucked me until I passed out. Asshole.”

“You liked it,” he smirks, sitting up to rub up and down the sides of your thighs. “Just like you like this…this rough-housing between us, the hot banter and childish little arguments.”

“You’re delusional, I don’t like any of this.”

Sunghoon pouts, pulling you to stand between his parted thighs and hug around your hips with his chin perched on your stomach. “You don’t like me?”

Heeseung clears his throat from your bedroom door, too caught up with his younger brother to even think that he’d come looking for you after bursting out of his room to ‘kill Sunghoon’.

“Sorry,” he says, beginning to back up. “Didn’t know you were busy.”

“Hee! No!”

Sunghoon stands up fast, pulling you into a full body hug so that you can’t turn around and chase after his brother. “Yeah Hee, we’re busy, scram.”

The older nods, slowly pulling the door shut with a broken expression. “Heeseung please!” You scream as a last stitch of effort. “Please! Don’t leave!!”

Sunghoon sighs, rolling his eyes and shoving you away. “Fine, let’s settle this shit right now.”

Heeseung pauses, eyes wide and alert bouncing back and forth between the two of you, the panic in your gaze pulling him inside like an invisible string to come in. “Settle what?”

“This.” Sunghoon repeats brazenly, motioning between the three of you. “You’re fucking her, I’m fucking her, better too.”

Heeseung scoffs, shaking his head.

“And I don’t like that.” Sunghoon continues. “So, what are we going to do about this? Big brother.” He carps, managing to make the title come across as an insult. 

“Sunghoon, stop this!” You intervene, getting between them. “What about your girlfriend?!”

“Yeah Hoonie.” Heeseung says from behind you, moving closer until his chest meets your back. “You think Miyeon would love to know about how you cheat on her every other weekend with random sluts you meet at parties?”

Sunghoon shakes his head with a smug sneer, eyes rolling between an anxious blink. “And you Heeseung? Should I tell dad about your weekend adventures? The real reason you’re flunking out of uni? The truth behind why you’re such a fucking failure?”

Heeseung stiffens behind you, clutching at your shirt by your lower back. “Hee?”

“It’s not what you think Hoon..”

“What? So I just made up all those times I’ve had to watch you embarrass yourself, stumbling out of parties high and drunk off your ass?” Sunghoon huffs a cruel laugh. “Real nice, how you’d clearly rather fuck up your head than evolve, better yourself and try to not be such a low life prick.”

“Enough!” You interrupt, sensing the tension radiating off Heeseung’s body. “God.”

Taking a deep breath, you have to pause, remembering that you have only heard one side of this story…

“I’m doing better..” Heeseung whispers behind you, the bottom half of his face buried in his chest to hide. “Haven’t been going out the way I used to, I know I need to stop Hoon. I’m trying..”

“Oh Hee..” you turn, slinking your arms around his waist. 

“Ugh.” Sunghoon pretends to gag. “Bullshit! Trying my ass! You’ve never tried to fix anything!”

Heeseung frowns, slumping in your hold, eyes falling shut. “I don’t know what else you want from me, Hoonie.”

“I want you to get the fuck up off my gi—“ Sunghoon catches his breath, pausing and stepping back, lips twitching furiously. “Fuck.” He turns, hands set on hips visibly shaking from the rage coursing through his body.

“You can’t just..” you start, chewing on your bottom lip, weighing if you’re overstepping boundaries too much. “Talk?”

Heeseung trembles, clearly living in some fear of his brother. A similar cycle to the one you’ve found yourself racing through..

“No!” Sunghoon snaps, twisting back around to face the two of you, features tight and full of anger. “I have nothing to say to him.”

Heeseung nods, rubbing down your back reassuringly. “It’s okay, I have a lot to explain to make this fair.”

“It’s okay Hee, really..”

Sunghoon sneers, muttering under his breath about how repulsive this is, regretting his need for confrontation. 

“No no,” Heeseung continues. “Hoonie’s right, I’m a fuck up.. fucked up our relationship, fucked up my education. I fucked up my life, I know.” He reiterates, nodding and agreeing with Sunghoon. “I should have been there for you back then Hoon..”

The younger flinches, tearing his gaze away, jaw twitching. “Don’t bother, you’re too late.”

“Come on Sunghoon..” you say shakily, reaching for his hand, only for him to snatch it away. Taking a few steps back to create distance between you.

“Yeah..” Heeseung swallows, throat dry as tears gather at his waterline. “I know, but you’ll always be my little brother, and if you ever need me.. I’m here for you.”

“No you’re not.” Sunghoon sucks between his teeth, licking his lips and rubbing his eyes frustrated, using the fast action to clear away moisture. “If you’re serious then leave her alone, let me have this for once.”

“Hee, no, do not listen to him!” You speak up, glaring at the younger. “I’m not some fucking conquest Sunghoon, I’m a person, not a trophy to hold over your brothers head just because you have bad blood.”

“I didn’t say that.” Sunghoon snaps at you, baring his teeth. “Why are you even getting involved?! You’re just making this worse!” 

“Hoon, come on dude.” Heeseung moves in front of you, shielding you as if his brother would do something that would require that.

Sunghoon’s eyes bulge, bloodshot with his temper skyrocketing, pushing up to his brother nose to nose, a spark of pride roaring through his chest at the lack of difference in their height. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Heeseung’s gaze lowers, running his tongue along the backs of his teeth nervously. “Nothing man, nothing.” Holding his hands up defenseless, he turns toward you, face drained of energy. “Sorry about all of this.”

“It’s okay baby,“ you console, burying your face in his chest, arms seeking his waist to squeeze around tightly until he gasps for a breath and breaks into a smile. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“I can’t believe this.” Sunghoon barks, gaining your attention again.

“Hoon, listen..” without releasing Heeseung, you turn to face him, lip tweaking down slightly. “It’s not personal, but I like your bro—“

“Enough!” He shouts, stomping toward the door. Refusing to hear that for the second time in his life, one unforgettable heartbreak was enough already.

Sighing, you return to rubbing your face in Heeseung’s warm embrace, releasing the built up stress and negative energy circulating around you. Big hands soothe down your spine, setting soft barely there kisses on your forehead, mumbling under his breath. “Thank you.“

Sunghoon backs out quietly, blinking away the itch behind his eyes. Typical of his brother to never let him have anything, even the last days with their mother when he selfishly pushed his younger brother away and told him to stay in his room. Fucking asshole could never be there for him the way a normal sibling should be. Heeseung never once chose him over a woman, not their mom, not you, and not her.

He nods to himself, clicking the door shut behind him with his jaw set tight. It’d be too easy to walk away now, accept defeat, allow for Heeseung to kick dirt in his face once again… 

But Sunghoon has never liked taking the easy route.

“Did you honestly think that was it?” Sunghoon leans against your bedroom door, stepping in and kicking it shut behind him, startling you as he makes his way in with a venomous glare laser focused on you. “Think I give up that easily?”

“Get out of my room!” You hurriedly whisper, getting up to push him back to the door. “What the hell is your problem!? Why do you keep showing up?!”

“You. Him. You’re both my problem.” Sunghoon sneers, taking a hold of your wrists to pin them down by your sides and press your back flush against the door. 

“There’s nothing to give up!” Continuing to hiss, you thrust your weight forward, barely shifting his figure back enough to take a deep breath and lighten him off your torso. “You. Have. A. Girlfriend.”

“Semantics.” Rolling his eyes, Sunghoon waves off your annoyance. “A girlfriend, what’s a girlfriend to you anyway? The girl you met, shook hands with, and then proceeded to fuck her boyfriend anyway?”

“You!” Huffing, you beat his chest, using your strength to shove. “You know why!”

“Oh, because we made a fair trade? Your grades improve and I get in a nut once in a while.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Big fucking deal.”

“It is a big fucking deal you prick.”

“It wasn’t, until you did exactly what I told you not to do and fucked my brother.” He glares at you, forehead wrinkling at the mention of Heeseung. “The one thing I fucking asked of you, and now here you are, in love or some shit.” He says, hands raised to make quotations with a disgusted leer tugging his face down.

“You never told me to not..” sighing, you slump against the door, head aching as you wonder how this could possibly be your life. “Why do you even care?! I don’t get it.”

“You wouldn’t.” Stepping back, he saunters to your pinboard of clippings from magazines, quotes and poems about different parts of Europe you’ve dreamed of every summer. “But maybe you will, eventually.”

Sunghoon traces one of the phones of a couple skiing through the Swiss Alps, scoffing under his breath at the idea of you and his brother venturing off together on some romantic getaway. Chuckling under his breath he rips off the photo of the Venice Canals, turning back to face you.

“I’ll be sure to have my father’s assistant only book the best accommodations for us.” Sunghoon grins cockily, placing his hand along the side of your neck. “Five stars only, my princess deserves the best.”

“What?” You sneer, slapping his arm away. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Our dream summer vacation.” He says dumbfounded, mouth hung open offended that you dare to forget. “The one you’ve been working your ass off to better your grades for.”

“Hoon, what—“

“Because you don’t really believe you can just run off to Europe easypeasy after fucking not only one, but both of your step-brothers?!” Sunghoon gasps, grabbing at his chest dramatically. “What would your mother say?! Man, with how strict she is, she’d probably ship your ass off to live on your grandmother's farm in the middle of nowhere. At least that’s what she said over dinner that one time with Miyeon..”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t?” He smiles, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Can you be so sure?”

“But why?” You ask desperately, head beginning to throb from this back and forth.

Sunghoon shrugs sarcastically, eyes bulging out to mock you with an expression that flat out says ‘are you stupid?’. 

“Summer in Europe.” He opens up your door, peering over his shoulder with a dazzling sharp grin. “Can’t wait.

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George Sand, from a letter to Gustave Flaubert written c. September 1971

JEONGHAN 2021 Asia Artist Awards Behind

❥ Soft Things SVT Does

Seungcheol

• Hold you literally everywhere and any time. Like you could be in the dance practice room giving the boys snacks and he’s attached to your back or side

• Sprays his cologne on his shirts and hoodies so you smell him and smell like him when you wear them

Jeonghan

• When he spoons you, he wraps a leg around you so you can’t leave. He will whine if you try to move away from him

• Shakes his hair whenever it’s wet and then wraps his arms around you when you try to run away

Joshua

• Keeps no secrets from you. He will tell you everything he hears, especially comebacks.

• Constantly taking videos of you and setting them as a live wallpaper so when he holds the screen, he sees you smile at him

Jun

• When he wears a jacket with no shirt underneath, he’ll wrap you in it and kiss your temple

• Somehow knows all the places you want to go to even if you don’t tell him?? He’ll be like ‘let’s go to __ I know you want to’ and you’re like ‘how tf do you know that?’ and he’s like ‘I just know you baby’

Hoshi

• Doing the horanghae pose together

• Uses his thumb to wipe away food away from your lips and he will smirk at you if he sees you getting flustered

Wonwoo

• Always feeding you, you could just be sitting there on your phone and he’s holding a piece of your favorite food on a fork

• Likes to watch you do mundane tasks. You’re cleaning the stovetop? He’s watching you with hearts in his eyes

Woozi

• Watching animes together and ranting about how the plot is overused or how the characters resemble another from a different anime

• Sends you videos of him doing the wooahae

Seokmin

• Calling him DK or Seokmin will cause him to turn his head to you and whine ‘why aren’t you calling me honeyyy or babeee?? Why are you using those names?’

• Has a phone case with your name on it with his last name

Mingyu

• When he hugs you, he will lift you up and hug you tight and kissing your forehead, whispering how much he misses you

• Uses his shirt as a towel whenever he works out and giggles when he sees you staring at him

Minghao

• Letting you paint his nails. He always requests that his ring finger has your initial on it

•Never gets angry at you, he’ll just smile and say ‘it’s not your fault baby.’

Seungkwan

• Brushes away eyelashes from your face and then leans close before kissing your cheeks or eyelids

• Copying his hand gestures and then when he notices, he’ll do a heart gesture and crumble when you do it back to him

Vernon

• Caresses your face when you’re going to sleep because he thinks tracing your features will cause you to appear in his dreams

• Wearing matching necklaces

Dino

• Laying his head on your lap and letting you play with his hair and massage his face with skincare

• If you wear lipstick, he’ll ask for you to put marks on his shoulders or chest

save me blonde jun save me

not enough platonic cuddling in this world methinks