Champagne Problems: Part One

champagne problems: part one

pairing: jake sim x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, rich kids au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff

part one word count: 15.6k

part one warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, family drama, a fatal case of second son syndrome

soundtrack: boom - dpr live / bad idea! - girl in red / blood on the floor - kuiper / calico - dpr ian / comme de garçons (like the boys) - rina sawayama / lust - chase atlantic

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The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.

There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.

The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.

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PART ONE

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Fingers wrapping around the stem of your wine glass, you sigh. Punctuality may have been a steep order for someone who you suspect is running dangerously low on both common sense and regard for others, but twenty minutes? Really?

Your eyes land on the obnoxiously ornate grandfather clock next to the hostess stand. In a restaurant with ceilings so high you can barely see them and a carefully curated ambience that practically screams old money, it blends right in. It also gives you an updated timeframe on your would-be date’s tardiness. 

Scratch that – thirty minutes. 

Pulling out your phone, the absence of any new notifications is almost as annoying as whatever threadbare excuse you’re sure your date will offer you when he arrives. Glancing at the door, it remains devoid of any new patrons. Or perhaps rather if he arrives. 

You’re running near empty on both pinot noir and patience, and you use the distraction of your phone to make you seem a little less pathetic. As if this entire restaurant isn’t already privy to the fact that you’re actively being stood up. 

Well, you think wryly, at least you look good doing it. The off white ensemble you selected for the evening is Chanel, and vintage, at that. Usually you wouldn’t pull out all the stops like this for something as flimsy as a first date, but men like James Sim have an eye for this kind of thing. 

Four years your senior, he’s already carving out a name for himself at twenty-five. You suppose it is a little less impressive, though, when the name he was born with already carries a legacy of its own in the business world you usually do your very best to stay out of. Rumor has it he’s already a shoo-in for the next CEO of his father’s company. When nepotism is that blatant, you can’t do much but scoff and raise a glass to it. 

Scrambling for something to do to make your wasted time pass a bit quicker, you search up the social media profile of your would-be date. Honestly, you doubt you would learn anything more substantial about him if he actually bothered to show up than you will from scanning over his feed. In your experience, men like that tend to make up for their success on paper by lacking an actual personality and any sort of self-awareness. 

Gym selfie. Scroll. Gym selfie from a slightly different angle. Scroll. Dog photo. Pausing, you suppress a small smile. The dog in the picture is pretty cute, if nothing else. Zooming in slightly, your eyes crinkle at the way the dog’s tongue lolls out of its open mouth in a grin. Well, at least he’s got that going for him, you suppose. A cute dog is enough to bump any guy’s ranking up a few points in your book. 

If James Sim is nothing but a sum of his social media profile, it’s not like you expected anything else. After all, this is the heir to the Sim Corporation, a golden boy that was born with a crown on his head and a gold spoon in his mouth. Everything he’s earned has been laid out for him in painstakingly placed steps. His entire life has been guided by a heavy hand and the knowledge that he would one day inherit everything that makes his family worth knowing. 

You probably wouldn’t be too concerned with showing up to first dates on time, either. Especially since you doubt he’s ever been denied a second. 

Tonight is nothing but a blip on a radar, you’re sure. Something for a secretary to schedule and him to notice a day or five late. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone on his team will send a consolatory bouquet once he does realize the mistake. He is still building his reputation, after all, and you could use a fresh set of flowers for your apartment. 

With another slightly pitiful sigh and a final swig of wine, your glass is empty and your optimism is shot. A second glance at the clock says that thirty-eight minutes have now elapsed since your scheduled meeting time. And in your opinion, that’s thirty-nine too late for a first date. 

Retrieving your coat from the back of your chair, you figure tonight will be remembered as nothing but a waste of a good outfit. Besides, you suppose forty minutes of aimless scrolling is ultimately less painful than the inevitable headache this date surely would have been had he bothered to actually show up. 

Suddenly, you frown. You won’t complain if this date never actually happens, but you may end up with a slight problem. Although you haven’t been on the best of terms with your mother in a long time, tonight was meant to be the final bullet point on a list of favors you owe her. 

As you pull your coat on, you consider the best way to frame the events of the evening. Lean into the whole ‘getting stood up’ thing in an effort to earn some sympathy points? Lay out the facts in their most basic form, timestamps included? Emphasize the fact that you waited long past the obligatory twenty minutes for him to actually show up? Or leave your message chain as it currently is, tell her nothing at all, and let her assume what she wants?

They’re all equally iffy, you think. Risky in their own regard. 

Signing your name at the bottom of the check, you scribble in a generous tip for the waitress who did her best to check on you often without making it obvious that she knew you were expecting company that never arrived, expertly skirting that line between overbearing and empathetic. At least someone will go home happy, you think, adding an extra zero for good measure. 

Exiting the restaurant, you decide to make it two people. James Sim may be a hotshot at his father’s company, but you’ll be damned before you let him ruin your evening. Before you order the Uber back to your place, you add an extra stop at your favorite sushi place. Takeout in the comfort of your own home will certainly be easier to enjoy than whatever Michelin-Star concoction you would have ordered here anyway, eaten in small bites between forced conversation topics, awkward pauses, and too long sips of wine. 

And an hour later, you’re polishing off the last piece of an absolutely divine rainbow roll, wearing nothing but silk pajamas and a face mask, with old reruns of your favorite show playing on the TV when James Sim finally glances down at the Rolex on his wrist. He’s finally arrived at the tail end of a meeting that’s running so far behind schedule he has half a mind to just walk out of it. He would, too, if his father wouldn’t actually threaten his life for it. 

It’s late, James realizes. Stupid late. So late that he won’t have the time or energy to do anything but pass out by the time he gets home, which really sucks, because he was genuinely looking forward to his date tonight–

“Fuck.”

All he can do is curse, even as the shocked faces of a concerning number of top executives turn to look at him all at the same time. 

…

Jake Sim is about to fail his econ midterm. 

It will be at least a week before grades are released, but he already knows it. He can already feel it in the way the questions start to swim in his mind, making less and less sense the more he turns them over, in the way his gut fills with dread as the minute hand of the clock at the front of the lecture hall ticks closer and closer to the testing time limit. 

And it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t his second time repeating this course. 

Oh, his father is going to have an absolute field day with this one. Jake can practically hear it now. 

“You failed your midterm? After already failing this course twice? You know, James was actually the top scoring student in his economic section. Dr. Jeong still mentions his term paper every time I see him at the university…”

And that’s if he’s in a good mood. Or rather, if things at the company are going well. Jake doesn’t even want to consider the comments he’ll be on the receiving end of if the news of his failure finds his father already agitated. 

Exhaling, he gives his exam one final once-over, scanning for completion more than accuracy. His brain is so fried that he knows it’s of little use to him now. For his own sake, the best thing to do at this point is turn his test in and send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening on his way out the door. 

Leaving the lecture hall behind him, Jake puts his phone out of airplane mode and frowns at the two notifications that pop up on his screen. The first is a missed call from his brother, and the second is a message from the same sender, requesting that he give him a call when he has the chance. 

Considering that it’s neither his birthday nor a major holiday, Jake is more than a little confused. Regardless, he honors the request, pressing his phone to his ear as he begins the walk back to his apartment. Although it’s significantly less spacious than his childhood home, he finds it far more welcoming in more ways than one. 

The outgoing call rings once, twice, three times. Jake is about to be annoyed at the missed connection, but his brother answers in the moments just before he’s sent to voicemail.

“Hey, Jake.” Shocking. He actually bothered to check the caller ID. 

“Hey.” Jake’s voice is careful, guarded. It’s not like his personal life is of any importance to his older brother, but he’s not in the mood to answer any questions. He won’t give James any reasons to ask. “I saw your message.”

“Right.” Jake can hear the shuffle of other voices, scattered movements coming from the other line. James sounds busy. Just like always. Usually, that would usually mean he’s distracted. But Jake has the odd feeling that he has his brother’s undivided attention when James adds, “I have a favor to ask you.”

Immediately, Jake’s stomach drops. There are very few things in this world that are not within James Sim’s grasp, and even less that are within Jake’s, relatively speaking. Whatever it is, he must be desperate, if he’s willing to enlist the help of his little brother. 

“Okay.” Jake’s voice betrays none of his sudden anxieties. “What is it?”

At least James spares him the agony of suspense. “You know ___, right?”

Jake frowns. Sure, he knows of you. Just like he has a vague idea of every one of his family’s business partners and their immediate kin. Particularly the ones that are the same age as him and attend the same university. But it’s not like he’s close with you, not like he’s ever had an actual conversation of any substance with you. 

Especially since the minimal interactions the two of you have had did not leave Jake wanting more. The only child of parents whose last name is on the front of the most successful law firm within a thousand mile radius, you strike him as everything he’d expect you to be. 

Spoiled. Entitled. Vapid. Out of touch with any version of reality that doesn’t consist of you getting everything you want at the exact moment you want it. He supposes it’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own upbringing, but he’d like to think that he’s earned what he’s been given, at least partially. Especially since most of it has been his brother’s hand-me-downs.  And it’s not like his father has ever been in the habit of doing him any favors that don’t come wrapped in criticism, comparison, and disdain.

Although rumor does have it you and your mother haven’t been on speaking terms since you left for university, Jake imagines it’s probably because you wanted to bring the limited edition Versace to campus with you, and she insisted it would be safer at home. 

Oh, well. Whatever designer dispute happened between you and your mother is no skin off his back. Jake has his own problems to worry about. 

One of them being his brother’s question that still lingers on the other line. 

Weighing responses in his head, Jake finally settles on, “I guess.” It’s his best attempt at being noncommittal. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything to dissuade his brother. “Do you have her number by chance? My secretary should have taken it down, but she can’t find it anywhere.”

Jake balks, footsteps faltering. An equally distracted student walking behind him nearly stumbles right into his back. Wordlessly, Jake sends them an apologetic look before clarifying, “Her number? Like, her personal phone number?”

“What other kind of number is there?” And there’s the James that Jake knows. Annoyed at the perceived incompetencies of his younger brother, just as always. 

Suddenly, Jake’s patience is running short too. James is the one asking for a favor and still has the gall to be annoyed with him. Typical. Jake’s words are clipped when he says, “No, I don’t have ___’s phone number.” 

Jake expects that to be the end of it, but his brother won’t let it go so easily. 

“Seriously? Don’t you two go to the same school?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Right, because I have the entire student body on speed dial.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Jake half expects his brother to just hang up on him. After all, he’s never been able to take what he gets, to swallow what he dishes out. 

What Jake does not expect, however, is the way James sounds so tentative when he speaks again.  “Well…”

“Well what?” Patience already running thin, it’s all he can do not to snap. 

“Do you think you could get it for me?”

Jake must be dreaming. This must be a post-exam punishment, a hallucination brought on by over exerting his brain too far for too long. “Do I think I could get ___’s phone number for you?” he repeats flatly. 

“Is there an echo in here?” Asshole. At least he’s consistent. 

“Just an echo chamber,” Jake mutters away from the receiver. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jake stops for a moment to fiddle with his keyring as he walks up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I can’t get her phone number for you.” 

“Why not?”

The key won’t line up quite right. Jake tries again, frustration seeping through. “Because I have better things to do than run stupid errands for you. Why don’t you drive here and get it yourself?”

“Trust me, if I thought she’d give it to me, I’d be there in an hour.”

The lock on his door finally clicks open, and Jake all but throws his bag down after kicking off his shoes. “And what the hell makes you think she’d give it to me?”

“Well, you didn’t accidentally stand her up, for one.” James doesn’t sound embarrassed by it. Just matter-of-fact. Like a date is nothing but a business deal. Something to be rescheduled and redone if negotiations go sour the first time around. 

It is enough to stir up some of Jake’s curiosity, though. “You went on a date with ___?” He supposes it makes sense. Even if the rumor mill and its rumblings about your rocky relationship with your mother ring true, you’re still your parents’ daughter. Still a perfect match on paper for the future CEO of the Sim Corporation. The king of a company and princess of a law firm. It’s a match made in heaven, he thinks ruefully. 

“No, I didn’t. That’s kind of the whole point here.”

“Whatever.” Jake still doesn’t see what the hell he has to do with all this. “Why don’t you just look up her parents’ number in the company database and get it from them?”

Jake can practically feel his brother’s exasperation through the phone. “Right, because that would go over really well. Hi there," he imitates. “I’d like to make your daughter the mother of my future children. Care to pass along her phone number so I can get started on that?”

Jake suppresses a wince. “Jesus. I see why she stood you up.”

“She didn’t. I stood her up,” James clarifies. “On accident.”

Semantics. And not ones that Jake is interested in. “Either way. I’m not getting her number for you.”

“Yeah?” Jake is unsettled by the way there’s still no trace of defeat in his brother’s voice. There’s something almost sinister when he suddenly switches topics. “How are classes going?”

Jake’s lips pull into a taut line, disaster of an econ midterm still fresh on his mind. “Fine.”

“Really? Even econ? Third time’s the charm and all that?” Well, at least his brother can be counted on to consistently be an asshole.

“Why do you care?” The only thing Jake wants to do is end this call and crawl into bed for a well-deserved afternoon nap. Let his subconscious spare him from thoughts of his older brother and econ and you for at least a little bit. 

James has other plans. “You must have taken the midterm recently, right?” Jake’s silence is confirmation enough. “You know, the only thing Dr. Jeong weighs more heavily than the midterm is the final paper at the end of the semester.”

A minute ago, Jake thought you were the last thing he wanted to talk about. The sudden shift in direction in this conversation is starting to prove him wrong. If there’s one thing Jake would rather discuss even less than his older brother’s dating life, it’s school. “What does that have to do with a–”

“And I think I still have my copy of the paper that earned me the top score in my entire section.” The smugness is practically palpable. “I might have to do some digging, but I’m sure it’s in my old files somewhere.”

Jake rolls his eyes, wishes the immediate comparison weren’t the first thing to rise to the forefront of his mind. Wishes it didn’t find him so lacking. Wishes it wasn’t narrated in the voice of his disappointed father. “If you’re trying to gloat, it’s n–”

“I’m trying to strike a deal. Jesus, no wonder you’re on track to be a super senior getting a business degree.”

“This is my third year,” Jake defends indignantly. 

“And your third attempt at econ, which I passed in my first year.” He sounds like he’s settling a little too well into the CEO role when he proposes, “I’m trying to make it your last attempt.” 

Jake would be lying if he said his curiosity weren’t piqued, even just slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, little brother, that my term paper, my notes, all of it, are yours.” It sounds too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true. James is a lot of things, but generous and helpful are very rarely any of them. “As soon as you get me ___’s number.” And there it is. 

Jake hangs up without bothering to dignify that with a response and hopes it sends a strong enough signal of his refusal. Then, he falls into his bed face-first with a groan. 

And a week later, when his econ midterm results are finally posted, the first thing Jake does is let his head fall on his desk with an alarmingly loud thud that has Jay poking his head in the door to make sure everything’s okay. The second thing he does, a solid twenty minutes later, is send his older brother a text. 

Jake [7:21pm]: You better start digging through those old files. 

…

All things considered, you’re easier to track down than Jake expects. The university campus is big, and judging from the way he can’t remember ever seeing you in a class, the two of you don’t share a major. But the similarities in your social status mean you’re bound to run in some of the same circles, and Jake is able to use this to his advantage. 

Ultimately, it takes very little digging on his part. First, he mentions your name to Jay in the middle of an upper body superset in the university gym. Jay frowns, setting the weights back on the rack. 

“That name sounds familiar. I think maybe Heeseung knows her?”

That tidbit takes him to Wednesday night, which always finds Jake in the library at a statistics study group Heeseung also makes a habit of attending. On their way out for the evening, Jake stops him by the door. 

“___?” Heeseung pauses for a moment in contemplation. “I’m pretty sure she’s friends with Sunghoon.”

And the third piece of the puzzle proves a bit more difficult to click into place. Sunghoon is harder for Jake to find, at least in a way that comes across naturally. Much like yours, Park Sunghoon is a name Jake hears in passing more than anything. He’s a friend of friends, a mutual acquaintance that Jake has never really had a conversation with and certainly doesn’t know well enough to interrogate for your phone number. 

But his most recent midterm score is still looming over his head, and the thought of retaking econ again is so nightmarish it sends a shiver down his spine  every time he considers it. At this point, there isn’t much Jake wouldn’t put on the line to pass the damn class. Including his pride, apparently. 

So when Jake hears from Jay who hears from Heeseung that Sunghoon will probably be at the party Epsilon Nu Eta is throwing this Friday night, he starts to formulate a plan. 

And he starts to regret said plan less than twenty-four hours later when he finds himself on the doorstep of a frat party. A frat party. He can’t remember the last time he came to one of these things. At twenty-one, he already feels geriatric as he tugs self-consciously at the sleeves of the plan black long sleeve he put on for the occasion. Something that will hopefully hide the questionable stains he’ll inevitably leave with. 

Entering through the front door with hinges that don’t align quite right, Jake has one mission in mind: find Park Sunghoon. Find him and somehow convince him to pass along your number. There’s a fine line to be walked there, Jake thinks. If he comes across as too eager, it will just be creepy. Nonchalance is the name of the game, but he’s never been good at keeping his cards close to his chest. 

For Jake, it’s a tall order, which means the only detour he’ll allow himself is grabbing a cup of lukewarm beer from the kitchen before he sets out looking for Sunghoon. The alcohol is an effort to break the barrier of his inhibitions more than anything. To make what he’s about to do feel a little less painful. 

Making his way out of the kitchen, Jake wanders aimlessly for a few minutes. He doesn’t know much about Sunghoon, other than the fact that he competes for your university’s figure skating team and is undeniably handsome. A good-looking figure skater, Jake thinks as he turns down yet another crowded hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink. Where would one of those be hiding? 

He spends a few more awkward minutes asking around to no avail. Just when he’s on the verge of saying fuck it and making some sort of sacrifice to the econ gods instead, Jake bumps into the man of the hour on his way to the bathroom. 

In the chaos, Jake doesn’t recognize him until it’s almost too late. “Hey,” Jake calls out, bladder all but forgotten for now. He’s trying to fake an air of coolness when he adds, “Sunghoon, right?”

“Yeah.” Jake thanks his lucky stars that Sunghoon must be at least two drinks in, because he doesn’t seem weirded out at all by the sudden question from a near stranger. 

“I’m Jake.” He reaches his arm out for a handshake. Blinking, Sunghoon just stares at his outstretched hand as long, awkward moments bleed into each other. Eventually, Jake just lets it fall back to his side. “I’m, uh, in a statistics class with Heeseung.”

“Right on,” Sunghoon nods, still unsure if this conversation has a point to it. Luckily, the pleasant haze clouding his thoughts means he doesn’t mind too much either way. 

Jake figures there’s no point in dragging this out by exchanging more pleasantries, and he has the feeling Sunghoon might start forgetting his own name, much less yours, if he lets this continue for too long. 

“Listen,” Jake starts, trying to sound as not creepy as possible. “I heard that you know ___ pretty well.”

Sunghoon just shrugs. Jake can’t tell if he’s succeeded. “You could say that.”

“I know this is a strange request, but, uh,” Jake scratches the side of his head, “is there any chance I could get her number? I promise not to do anything weird.” Word vomiting, the extra details are spilling out before he can stop them. “It’s not even for me, actually–”

Sunghoon spares him the rest of a rambling explanation. “Sorry, bud. No can do.”

Jake’s stomach tightens in panic. He really, really just needs your phone number. It has him forgetting his earlier inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind even if he’s making a bit of a fool of himself in the process. “It’s for something important, actually. I’m kind of desperate–”

Sunghoon just puts a consolatory hand on Jake’s shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. “Look, man, it’s nothing against you personally, but I have literally never met you in my life. Besides, if I gave out ___’s number to every random guy that asked, I’m pretty sure she’d shave my head.” Sunghoon leans in close, like he’s about to share a secret. Jake’s nose twists at the scent of alcohol on his breath. “And between you and me, I don’t think I could pull off being bald.” 

Jake kind of begs to differ, but that’s neither here nor there. He opens his mouth to plead his case again, but Sunghoon doesn’t even let him get a word out. 

“Sorry, man, but I really can’t help you.” Pausing for a moment, he considers. “You said your name was Jacob, though, right?” He doesn’t pause long enough for Jake to correct him. “I could ask her if she’s cool with giving you her number–”

“Whose number are you giving out?” And if Jake thought this conversation wasn’t enough of a train wreck already, trust the timing of your entrance to be more disastrous than divine. 

Eyes turning to you and your sudden intrusion on the conversation, Jake’s mind goes blank for a minute.  And yeah, he kinda gets why his brother’s so hellbent on having a second chance at your time. Dressed in all black, your hair is loose around your face. Even though it likely costs more than most people’s monthly paycheck, there’s nothing inherently special about what you’re wearing. Still, Jake is finding it exceedingly difficult to look away. 

It’s something in your aura, he thinks. In the way you carry yourself. Something that money can’t buy. Something that makes his gaze want to linger. 

“___!” Sunghoon grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, wobbling slightly. You jostle at the sudden impact, inching away from where the contents of his cup slosh dangerously close to the rim. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

Your brow creases in confusion. Jake tracks the miniscule movement with parted lips. 

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon confirms, just at the same moment Jake shakes his head, “No.”

Turning your mildly concerned gaze away from your friend, you glance at Jake for the first time. Brow furrowing further, you cock your head to the side as your lips part in partial recognition. He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place him. “Do I know you?”

“No.” Jake shakes his head again, a little too fervently. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. At least not properly.”

It’s an odd way of putting it. You’re about to ask him to clarify when Sunghoon cuts in, clearing up the confusion for you. “It’s Jacob,” he says, as if that should mean anything to you. Turning back to the boy across from him, he adds, “Jacob Sim, right?”

And that clicks things into place.  

“Sim?” you echo, realization dawning on your features.

“Yep,” Sunghoon confirms. 

Across from you, Jake says nothing. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. In fact, he’s pretty sure his life is flashing before his eyes. 

“Sim,” you repeat one final time, jaw ticking in agitation as everything starts to settle. “I do know you.”

“Oh, really?” Sunghoon asks at your side, oblivious to the way your tone betrays obvious animosity. A distaste so palpable Jake can practically feel it radiating off of you. Turning back to Jake, he’s apologetic. “Sorry, Jacob. I guess I could have given you her number, then.” Sunghoon smiles sheepishly, as if he hasn’t just made things a million times worse. “My bad.”

Jake’s eyes widen in horror as he scrambles for some sort of defense, an explanation that will dig him out of this rapidly deepening hole, but you beat him to it. 

“My number?” The look you give him has a concerning amount of venom in it. “Seriously? God, why are all you Sim men so obsessed with me?”

“That’s not–” 

“First your brother views my LinkedIn profile twenty-three times after standing me up, and now you’re harassing my friends for my phone number?”

“Hold on. I’m not harassing anyone–”

“No,” Sunghoon agrees, nodding diplomatically. “Jacob was perfectly pleasant–”

“It’s Jake, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, just Jake.”

“Sorry,” Sunghoon apologizes. Turning to you, he tries mediating again. “Well, like I said, just Jake was perfectly pleasant–”

“I don’t care how pleasant he is.” Your glare somehow becomes icier. “Leave me alone, and tell your dickhead brother to do the same.” Muttering to yourself more than anything, you add, “The last thing I need right now is you practically stalking me–”

“Stalking you?” Jake flounders, an edge of annoyance creeping into his tone. He’s not surprised to learn that you really do think the world revolves around you, but really? Stalking?  “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I’m enjoying this interaction any more than you are.”

You don’t back down, crossing your arms over your chest. The movement has Sunghoon teetering dangerously where he leans on you, but you pay him no mind, attention focused solely on the man in front of you. “Then why do you want my phone number so bad?”

“Like I was trying to say earlier when you wouldn’t let me get a word out sideways,” Jake bites, “it’s not for me. I made a deal with someone, and I told them I’d give them your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “Who?”

“What?”

“Who did you make a deal with?”

Jake hesitates, knowing how the truth will sound. Screw it – a lie would likely be just as damning. Still, it takes him another pregnant pause to eventually admit, “... My brother.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you double down on your ire. “Absolutely not.” Shaking Sunghoon off your shoulder, you turn to leave, dragging him with you. Jake’s eyes close; he can’t bear to watch his last chance at passing this semester leave him in the dust.  

So much so that he pleads again, “Wait, ___. Please.” Jake is begging now, and he feels a little pathetic for it. Still, he can’t help the way desperation drives him to continue. “You can block him for all I care. I can’t explain everything, but my life is quite literally in your hands right now. I just need–”

“No.” The single syllable vibrates with finality. “Do I have to spell it for you? N-” you bite, enunciating so sharply Jake thinks you might draw blood. “O. No. I’m not giving my number to you or your flake of  a brother or anyone else that so much as looks like they might have the name Sim.”

God, is the only think Jake can think as he miserably watches your retreating figure, Sunghoon stumbling along  as you drag him with you. I am so fucked. 

…

When Sunghoon finally emerges from your guest bedroom an hour before noon the next day, it’s to ask if you’d be kind enough to spare him some Advil. Even with a bad case of bedhead and the aftermath of overconsumption, he still manages to look good, albeit a little lifeless. 

“I’ll do you one better,” you tell him, but reach for the small white bottle anyway, shaking out a few tablets and offering them to your best friend along with a glass of cold water.

“Bagels and coffee?” Sunghoon asks over the rim of his glass, with a little more alertness in his eyes than there was moments before. 

“Bagels and coffee,” you confirm. A tried and true hangover cure, if there ever was one. And even though your head is feeling nice and clear, thanks to your trusty two drink limit that has yet to fail you, the local cafe a block from your apartment is very rarely something you turn down. 

Thirty minutes later and a change of clothes later, the two of you are trading gossip and stealing bites of each other’s orders when the other person isn’t looking at the table in the back corner of the cafe. Sunghoon is just about to stuff another piece of your bagel in his mouth when he notices yet another notification light up the screen of your phone. 

Sunghoon nods towards where it rests on the table, bagel suddenly forgotten. “Is that your mom again?”

“Yep.” Your lips stretch thin. You don’t even need to glance down at your phone to confirm. She’s been blowing up your notifications all weekend.  “She’s been on my ass about the upcoming fundraiser event for days now. And reminding me about the utmost importance of bringing an appropriate plus-one.”

Across from you, Sunghoon straightens his shoulders. “I suppose it is about time I bust out the trusty old prom suit again.”

You sigh, sending your half-eaten bagel a forlorn glance. “I wish. She told me if I ever bring you again, I lose half my trust fund.”

“What?” Sunghoon looks affronted. “Why?”

You level him with a look. “Does soap ring a bell?”

Sunghoon splutters in indignation. “That was one time,” he defends. “And anyone would have thought those were edible! They were shaped like candies, and they were on a platter–”

“Soap presentation aside, I don’t think that excuse will work on her.” The dejection in your voice is apparent. “Besides, she’s already made it very clear that you’re explicitly forbidden from attending any future family events as my plus-one.”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles. “Keep all your stupid inedible soaps.” Pausing for a moment, he realizes that still leaves a giant question hanging in the air. “Who are you gonna bring, then? You know, it kind of is too bad your date with Sim number one didn’t pan out.”

You shrug, pointedly ignoring the way your phone screen lights up yet again. It really is a bit of a shame James turned out to be an unreliable flake. One that still hasn’t bothered to apologize to you or even give any sort of indication that he remembered your scheduled date. Still, you can’t think of anyone that would earn your mother’s approval faster. “I’ll probably just fake a stomach flu.” After all, you’re kind of out of options. “I thought about asking Jungwon, but he’s got stuff going on for his internship that night. A big economics conference or something.”

“Speaking of economics,” Sunghoon leans in conspiratorially. “I think I might have some intel on our new friend from last night.”

“How was economics the segue you went with? We were literally just talking about his older brother.” Giving him a look of disbelief, you add, “And what about that interaction gave you the impression that we’re friends?”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon brushes you off before he continues, “Anyway, I heard from Heeseung who heard from Jay that apparently little Sim is hot garbage at economics. Rumor has it he’s already failed the class twice and is on track to do it again.”

You’re not sure why he’s deemed this information relevant to you, but you’d be lying if you said it weren’t a little amusing. 

“Really? Jungwon’s taking it now too, and he said that he sleeps through half the lectures and is still pulling an A.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be prodigies.”

Your lips flatten. “Pretty sure you don’t have to be a prodigy to not fail an entry level course three times.”

“Hey, cut him some slack,” Sunghoon argues. “He’s only failed it twice as of now.”

You scoff, entirely uninterested in the gory details of Jake Sim’s academic failures. “Whatever.”

“Either way,” Sunghoon says, “Jay told Heeseung who told me that’s why he’s so desperate for your number.” Confusion makes itself known on your features. You still don’t see the connection until Sunghoon adds, “Apparently he made some sort of deal with his brother that if he gets him your phone number, he’ll help him pass econ.”

A beat of silence passes between you. The barista at the counter calls out a customer’s name. It’s all you can do to not let your jaw physically drop open, mostly because–

“That is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Glaring at Sunghoon, you can’t believe the theatrics of it all. “How many times have I told you to stop believing everything Heeseung says?”

“Technically, Jay said it,” Sunghoon corrects. “And I don’t know... It kind of makes sense when you think about it.”

You beg to differ. “It absolutely does not. What is this, middle school? Are we passing notes behind the teacher’s back and making our friends ask our crushes if they like us back?” It’s ridiculous. Absolutely, utterly ridiculous. 

There is no way. Absolutely no way that James Sim, heir to a multimillion dollar company, is wasting his time giving his little brother an economics cheat sheet in exchange for your phone number. 

Sunghoon raises his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just thought you might be curious.”

And you hate to admit it, but you kind of are. Even though every ounce of logic you’ve accumulated in twenty-one years of life tells you that Heeseung is a notorious gossip whose stories are just as much fiction as reality and your best friend is no better. Even though the whole thing makes absolutely no sense at all. 

Even though you repeat it to yourself over and over for the rest of the day, that damn curiosity is still there. Pestering you and disturbing your sleep and leaving you wondering if maybe, just maybe, some things are entirely too ridiculous to be anything but true. 

…

On Wednesday night, Jake and Heeseung are in the middle of a particularly brutal probability set when a sudden shadow looms over their favorite corner table on the third floor of the library. 

Glancing up, Jake finds Heeseung’s gaze already trained somewhere over his shoulder. Jake can’t quite tell if the look on his face is confusion or terror. 

“Mind if I join?” The request comes from behind him, posed in an oddly familiar voice. Heeseung is nodding in agreement before Jake has the chance to so much as turn around and identify the intruder. 

All is revealed soon enough, though, when you slide down into the seat next to him, ignoring the way Heeseung scrambles to move his things and make room for you in the seat next to him. Instead, you busy yourself with setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your laptop. 

It’s all Jake can do to stare at you blankly. This evening, you’ve traded the all black outfit from the other night’s party for something a bit more casual, something comfortable that blends in better to the background of a university library. The sudden proximity also means that the scent of your perfume is quick to waft over towards him. 

Jake does his best to hold his breath before his brain can trick him into thinking he likes it. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” A bold request for someone who just hijacked a study session and sat down with no explanation, but Jake wouldn’t expect anything less from you. 

“Like what?” The words are out before he gives them permission. Across the table, Heeseung is staring too, but all three of you know the command isn’t for him. 

“I don’t know.” Glancing at the battery bar hovering just above empty, you dig around in your bag for a moment for your laptop charger. Jake notes that you still have yet to look at him. Instead, you begin to busy yourself with typing something on your computer. “Just stop it.”

He hopes you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into the side of your head as his blank stare shifts into a glare. 

Heeseung glances between the two of you. His outburst is sudden. “Oh! I just remembered.” He hits his head for good measure. The acting is wasted on this audience, though. Neither of you pay him any mind or even bother to glance in his direction. “I have to go, uh…” he trails off, finishing lamely with a rather flat, “somewhere else.”

“Great.” Your eyes don’t leave your screen, fingers still flying on your keyboard. “See you later.”

As Heeseung scrambles to pack up his unfinished statistics homework and high tail it out of the library, the air that has suddenly become stifling, Jake glances down at where your fingers are still moving. 

Distractedly, he wonders how you can type so fast with nails that long, how you never seem to need the backspace key. How none of the pastel pink that coats your fingernails seems to be so much as chipped. A projection of perfection, he thinks, down to every last detail.  

Moments pass, neither of you saying anything.

You still haven’t looked at him by the time you do eventually break the impasse. “I heard you suck at econ.”

And Jake actually cannot believe you. “Did you seriously hunt me down just to rub it in?”

“Rub it in?” That at least earns him some of your attention, even if it is just a brief, confused glance as your fingers pause in their typing. “It’s not like I’m the reason you can’t pass.”

“Believe it or not, you quite literally are.”

You sigh, removing your hands from your keyboard entirely. Then, before he can blink, you spin your entire body in your chair, eyes, shoulders, and knees all directly trained on him. Jake can’t help the way he flinches back a few inches at the sudden change in pace. 

“Look,” you start. He can already tell by the way you wrap the single syllable sound in patronization that he’s not going to appreciate whatever you’re about to say. “I can tell that you’re not used to, like, having conversations with people, but usually what happens is you give someone enough information so that they know what you’re talking about.” He’s right. 

And he’s quick to defend himself. “Maybe I could, if you’d let me get three words out without interr–”

But you’ve moved on already. “Is the whole ‘deal with your brother’ thing true?”

Jake lets the silence linger for a moment, looking at you in disbelief. “You literally just proved my point.”

You roll your eyes. “I knew what you were going to say, so I sped things along. Now answer my question.” You lay it out for him again. This time, even more directly. “Did you try to get my number because of some deal you made with your brother?”

He’s not sure why it sounds so ridiculous, narrated back to him in your voice. It’s not like it was a brilliant, foolproof plan to begin with, but the way you present it has him feeling about five inches tall. 

“I…”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You really don’t beat around the bush, he thinks. 

“Yes, okay?”

Looking behind you, you suddenly lean in a little closer. It’s all Jake can do not to flinch back again. Bringing your hand up to cup your mouth, it’s like you’re about to divulge a terrible secret when you whisper, “You’re that bad at econ?”

Jake just sighs. “Worse, probably.”

Frowning, you pull back a few inches. “Aren’t you a business major? Isn’t econ, like, pretty important for you?” If he were thinking clearly, Jake might wonder how you know that. But that only thing his mind has space for right now is annoyance. At you, at this exchange, at the way you so easily pick through his flaws and seem to have no problem laying them bare at his feet like he doesn't already know them intimately.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I got any say in my major,” Jake counters. He might have more patience for this conversation if he were having it with anyone but you, if you weren’t throwing his own insecurities back in his face with every follow-up question.

At that, something flickers through your eyes. Sympathy, maybe. “Fair enough.” Whatever it is, it’s gone before he can identify it. And it’s not enough to make you pull your punches. “Still though, that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jake doesn’t need the reminder. “Just get a tutor like everyone else.”

The thing is, Jake has thought about it. On more than one occasion. He’s even gotten so far as filling out the university tutor request form. He just could never quite bring himself to complete the ‘Name’ field without all of the potential consequences forcing him to hit backspace. 

He might not be his brother, but he’s not stupid enough to think that his family would ever be okay with the Sim name anywhere near a tutor form. He tells you as much. “And listen to my dad tell me how much of a disappointment I am for not being able to even take a class on my own?” Jake laughs humorlessly. “No thanks.”

A beat passes. Two. You’re not done yet, but you at least have the decency to sound a little apologetic, a little tentative when you say, “Not to kick you while you’re down or anything, but I mean, that has to be better than failing twice.”

Jake just shakes his head. “You don’t know my father.”

You shrug but don’t press the matter further. Truth be told, you don’t know his father, but you do know fathers like him. You have one of your own. The third floor of the library doesn’t seem like the place for that conversation, though, even if you’ve already uncovered more than your fair share of each other’s secrets in the last ten minutes. “I guess not.”

…

Your phone is buzzing far too incessantly for a Saturday morning, much less this early on a Saturday morning. Internally, you curse Friday night you, who forgot to switch it into do not disturb before falling asleep. Face still buried in your pillow, you reach around your nightstand blindly with the intention of remedying that particular mistake and enjoying a few more moments of peace.

Before you can make good on your plan, you make the fatal mistake of reading the message preview before silencing your phone. And suddenly, to your neverending annoyance, you’re wide awake. 

Mom [7:36 am]: Looking forward to seeing you next Saturday at the fundraiser. 

Mom [7:37 am]: I also noticed that you haven’t indicated who you’ll be bringing yet. Please fill out the RSVP form when you have a moment. 

Mom [7:45 am]: James Sim hasn’t RSVP’d yet. Are you bringing him? You should invite him if you haven’t already.

Mom [7:53 am]: I also never heard the update after your date a few weeks ago. Hoping no news is good news. I just spoke with his father the other day, and it sounds like he’s doing great things over at their company. 

Mom [8:01 am]: I also heard that he volunteered a few summers ago rebuilding turtle habitats. Wow! I think you two would get along very well.

Groaning, you flip your phone back over. That about sums up how well she knows her only daughter, you think ruefully. If she thought wooing you with turtles was a good idea, she must have forgotten that you’ve had a lingering phobia of the freaky little reptiles since your friend from elementary school had a pet turtle that bit your finger when you were at her house. 

Besides, you have serious doubts that’s actually how James Sim spent his last summer in university. 

If memories from your social media scrolling serve correctly, rebuilding turtle habitats was code for partying on a yacht for a month straight. You don’t care how he spends his free time, but the way he already has your mother wrapped around his stupid finger is enough to annoy any lingering sleepiness out of your system. 

Whatever. James Sim’s white lies are the least of your concerns now, and they certainly won’t solve your problems. If anything, you’re starting to regret not telling your mother anything about your failed attempt at a first date with him. Now, trying to explain that disaster of an evening would only sound like an excuse at best and a flimsy lie at worst. 

And even if she did believe you, you still have the glaring issue of next Saturday and your lack of a pre-approved plus-one.

With one final groan, you pull your blanket over your face, trying and failing to banish any thoughts of your mother, James Sim, and the certain disaster next weekend will be. 

Despite your best efforts, your worries linger. They follow you into Sunday; they start to make you desperate on Monday. With a diminishing handful of days left until the fundraiser, your anxiety only surges. 

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’re so stressed out that you can barely force your eyes to focus on the nearly blank Word document in front of you, all of the legalese and case details you can usually sort through in your sleep jumbling into one incomprehensible blob. 

Halfway through your third reread of a paragraph that details the basics of copyright law, it strikes you. The seedling of an idea so utterly ridiculous it just might be your saving grace.  

Your mother probably, definitely, couldn’t care less about James Sim’s so-called affinity for wildlife rescue. No, the only thing that makes him an appropriate candidate in her eyes for this Saturday has nothing to do with his personality at all. 

It’s his name that she likes. His family name specifically. 

In the middle of your favorite cafe, it hits you. The seedling of an idea sprouts roots, begins to bloom. 

If one Sim is good enough to be your plus-one, then surely the other one would be too. 

And you know exactly where he’ll be tonight. Glancing down at the time on your phone, you force your brain to think. Now, all you need is a plan. A way to convince him. Something he can’t refuse.  

Closing the lid of your laptop, you smile. You know exactly what it is he wants. 

Before you leave the cafe, you send a quick message to a friend. Set your plan in place so that the details are polished, irrefutable when you present it to him.

And then you set out for the university library. 

When you find Jake and Heeseung sitting at the same exact table on the third floor of the library, Heeseung doesn’t even bother to stick around for the customary greetings. Instead, he takes one single look at you before offering another flimsy excuse about having somewhere to be. Or maybe something to do. You can’t remember, and it doesn’t really matter. 

After all, the only reason you’re here is because–

“I have a way for you to pass econ.” Sliding into the seat next to Jake, the same one you sat in last time, you don’t waste any time before divulging the reason for your presence. 

If Jake is startled, he doesn’t show it. Statistics homework forgotten on the table, the only thing you see on his face is pure, obvious relief as his shoulders relax. 

“Thank god.” Reaching for his phone, he unlocks it, tapping and swiping until he’s ready to enter a new contact. “Give me your number, and I’ll–”

You shake your head, interrupting his train of thoughts. The way you smile makes him suddenly uneasy. He thought this was over, but now he’s not so sure. You confirm his fears when you say, “A different way.”

Now Jake just looks exasperated. If you keep up this habit, he’s about to start failing statistics too. Never mind the fact that he got his hopes up for what he is sure will turn out to be a giant pile of nothing. Still, he humors you. “What do you mean, a different way?”

“I mean,” you start, folding your hands across your lap. Jake has the distinct impression that you’re trying your best to be as convincing as possible. If nothing else, it does pique his curiosity. He’s never seen you be anything but annoyed or uninterested. It’s an interesting change of pace.“I have a friend who’s also taking econ right now and hasn’t scored below a 98 on a single assignment.” Jesus, Jake thinks. Must be nice. 

And then you drop the bomb on him. “He said he’s more than willing to tutor you. For money, of course.” you specify, moving on so quickly he hardly has the chance to process what you’re saying. “And it’s not like you can’t afford it, but I’ll split the cost with you. For the principle of it all.” There’s a beat of silence as what you’ve just said settles into the air. “Oh,” you add, remembering the most important detail. “And he’ll be discreet. Under the table tutoring, if you will. No chance of word getting back to Daddy Sim.” 

You do your best to give him your most trustworthy smile. Jake just stares back at you, mildly horrified.

When he finally speaks again, it’s to say, “... Please, and I mean this with every single bone in my body, please never refer to my father like that again.”

Not even bothering to look sheepish, the only agreement you offer is a mock salute. 

Your poor taste in nicknames aside, it does seem like a pretty sweet deal from where Jake is sitting. He cannot fail economics again, and getting a tutor would mean that his brother couldn’t hold his success over his head, couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for it. And a discreet tutor would be even better. Not going through the official university system would mean a much lower chance of his father ever finding out he got some help along the way.

All things considered, and very much to his surprise, Jake is having a hard time seeing any downsides. 

He goes through the list again. First, he gets to pass economics. Second, he doesn’t have to deal with his older brother in the process. Third, he gets a tutor that won’t pop up on his father’s radar, and all Jake has to do in return is–

Wait.

“Hold on a minute.” There’s an unmistakable edge of suspicion in Jake’s voice. There’s no way you went out of your way to find him a tutor, to help pay for it, without getting something in return. The wheels in his mind are starting to spin when he asks, “What’s in it for you?”

Next to him, you smile. It’s small, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you almost look nervous. “It’s just a small favor, really.” The expression on your face is not reassuring in the slightest. Still, you insist, “It’ll be easy, I promise. Just a few hours of your time at most.”

Jake knows better than to agree without details. And especially to anything you’re proposing. He’s already preparing to kiss his dreams of passing econ goodbye when he asks slowly,“What is it?”

You sigh, pretenses dropping. If you’re going to convince him now, you might as well do it with honesty. “That annual charity fundraiser event my parents throw. Your parents are usually there, I think. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone?”

Jake shrugs, frowning as he tries to remember. He’s not entirely sure either. After a while, fundraisers and events and family obligations all start to blur together. Although the name does ring a bell, albeit a distant, faint one. 

“Anyway,” you continue, “my mother is insistent that I bring a date. Someone she considers appropriate company. You know, runs in the same circles and comes from what she would consider a good family.” Jake nods. He does know exactly what you mean. Picking up on his agreement, you add with a twinge of hopefulness, “Like I said, it would be easy. Especially for you, since you’re used to this kind of stuff. I wouldn’t have to train you–”

That has Jake rolling his eyes. “Let me guess. I get a treat for rolling over?”

The ice in your glare is half hearted. “You know what I mean. There are certain…” You weigh your words carefully. “expectations at these things.” Pausing for a moment, you add, “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you’ll eat the soap, even if it’s candy shaped and on a platter.”

If you were trying to clarify your point, you did a terrible job. Jake’s brow pulls downwards in confusion. “Is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?”

“Unfortunately not.” You shake your head, but don’t explain any further. Sunghoon’s mishaps are not the point of this conversation. A mutually beneficial deal is. Which is why you ask him, “So, what do you say? Are you in or not?”

Is he? Jake says nothing, considering. Mentally, he goes through the list of pros and cons. Pros, he thinks. I get to finally pass econ, and I get to do it without my brother. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, gaze tracking the movement as you nervously bite at your lower lip. Also, I get to show up at an event with the girl he’s been trying to get for weeks now. 

He’d be lying if that didn't spark a certain warm feeling in his chest, if it didn’t inspire a sudden bout of preemptive vindication. But there are other things to consider.

Cons, he continues internally. I have to spend an entire evening at an event hosted by your family and make them believe you don’t annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

Weighing his options, Jake has one more question. “How long would it be?” he asks, and you try to stifle a grin, as if he’s already told you yes. 

“The event is technically four hours,” you say carefully, “but I’m sure we could manage to sneak out after a solid two and a half.”

Jake nods, thinking it over a moment longer. 

“Okay,” he finally breathes, hoping this isn’t some kind of terrible, elaborate trick, that he isn’t about to sign his life away on a dotted line. 

For econ, he thinks. For what’s left of his struggling GPA. He can manage a single night at a mind-numbingly boring high society function. Even if it’s with you. “I’m in.”

And it feels a bit strange, he has to admit, as he watches you type your contact information into his contact list. It feels odd to have your number in his phone with no intention of passing it on. To know that he’s the one who will be using it to confirm the details of this Saturday. To know that his brother will be none the wiser and not at all closer to having any kind of access to you.  

And if that strange surge of smugness makes another sudden appearance, well, Jake just figures that no one ever has to know about it. 

…

Frowning, you give yourself another once over in the full length mirror that sits next to your vanity. A shimmering, pale gold, the evening gown that flows over your figure was hand-selected by you for this very event. For some reason, you’re having a hard time rediscovering the magic you’d felt trying it on in the showroom here in the soft, ambient light of your bedroom. 

Objectively, you’re sure you must look good. The compliments the store attendants had given you were more than just customary, and gold has always been your color. Still, a slew of sudden uncertainties simmer in your gut. Is the slight sparkle too garish? Does the gold wash you out? Your worries feel too big for your bedroom, at too stark an opposition with the peaceful ambience as soft, instrumental music plays from your speaker.

But this particular Saturday evening has its ways of making you feel jumbled where you’d typically be steadfast. Insecure where you’d usually find confidence.  

It’s true that your mother has always had a critical eye, and especially where you’re concerned. If you were to search deep enough, however, you’d find that she’s not the person you’re most concerned about making a lasting impression on tonight. 

With no small effort, you resist the urge to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the bodice of your dress. A nervous habit more than anything, it’s only exacerbated by the way your phone is still devoid of notifications. The clock on your nightstand is a reminder that your date for the evening should be here any minute, should be sending a message as confirmation of his arrival at your apartment. But your phone is still silent, even as the hour of the fundraiser draws nearer and nearer. 

Maybe this was a terrible mistake, you think, a new bout of uncertainties beginning to brew. It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Trust him to be just as flakey as his brother, with absolutely no regard for previous commitments or anyone else’s time. It’s just your luck that you get stood up again, this time by the other Sim. 

You're in the middle of disguising your fears and distracting yourself by cursing him and his future bloodline when your phone finally pings with an incoming notification. Well, you think, grabbing your coat, feeling a bit ridiculous for the slight overreaction, you’ll have to look into removing generational curses when you have the time.

For now, you settle with pulling on your heels for the evening, ignoring the way you feel a bit wobbly despite the fact that you’ve walked in far worse. Locking your apartment behind you and striking a slightly unsteady pace towards the elevator down the hall, you whisper a silent plea that tonight isn’t as much of a disaster as you’re afraid it could be. 

You watch as the numbers on the elevator screen tick lower and lower, a swirling mix of dread and excitement starting to swim in your stomach. When you finally reach the first floor, you’re surprised to see a familiar face waiting for you in the lobby. Something in you softens, albeit just slightly. You’d incorrectly assumed he would just wait for you in the comfort of his car and spent the whole ride down preparing to awkwardly check license plates in the near dark till you found the right one. 

An overwhelming sense of  self-consciousness returns to you under the brightness of the lobby lights. Unconsciously, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, wondering how long it will take him to notice you as you begin to walk towards him. You’ve only made it a few steps when it strikes you that he’s already distracted by something else. 

Across the lobby, Jake Sim is engaged in a conversation with your doorman. One that looks slightly heated, by your judgment. 

As you get closer, their words become more audible. 

“Like I just told you,” The exasperation in your date’s voice is apparent. “I’m here to see ___.”

And you really should make your presence known, should step in and divert the brewing argument, especially since you seem to be the subject of it. 

But then you look at Jake. Really look at him. 

Realistically, you knew he would come well-dressed. That had been a big part of your reason for choosing him. The Sunghoon soap fiasco aside, you already knew Jake Sim wasn’t someone who needed you to put together a PowerPoint presentation on formal event dress code. He didn’t need you to explain the concept of complementary colors or the advantages of getting a suit tailored. Didn’t need you to explain that Converse were not an appropriate show or that no, a bolo tie is not acceptable attire. 

Up until now, you were grateful for his pre existing knowledge. It saved you a lot of time and effort that you could use to focus on other things, like getting ready yourself. But it also meant that you were entirely unprepared to see him like this. 

Eyes scanning him again, the immaculate fit of his suit is undeniable, as is the way his dark hair is perfectly mussed. It’s styled enough to avoid withering comments from elderly attendees who have the habit of asking how people see with their hair covering their eyes. But it’s also messy in a way that looks intentional, in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it, tug at it just a little, just to tease. 

It’s not just that he’s dressed well, though, despite the fact that he undeniably is. 

No, what has you freezing in your footsteps is the fact that Jake looks good. 

“And like I just told you, you’re not on her guest list. So I’m sorry, sir.” There is not a single trace of apology in your doorman’s voice. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you up. You’ll have to contact her and ask her to add you to her guest list.” You’re not sure how he manages to do it without losing any professionality, but your doorman makes it very clear that he thinks that will happen just as soon as hell freezes over. 

Jake’s shoulders tense in visible frustration. You have to suppress an actual sigh at the way fabric stretches over the muscle there. “Again, I’m not asking you to. Could you please just let her know that I’m here? She’s not answering her messages–”

“How odd.” The sarcasm is unmistakable. 

Getting a little desperate, Jake ignores the slight and continues anyway. “And we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so–”

From here, you can see the way his features start to twist in panic. It’s sobering enough to snap you out of your trance.

Cutting in, you make your presence known. “It’s okay,” you tell your doorman first. “I know him.” Then, you turn to Jake, putting on an award-worthy performance of false nonchalance when you explain, “Sorry I didn’t respond to your message. I was just on my way down.”

You watch as some of the tension drains from his features. “That’s alright,” Jake concedes easily. “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t late.”

A funny feeling, a new one, stirs again. Something in you softens. “I appreciate that.” 

You can’t help the way you take another look at him. At his suit, his hair, his face. At him, at all of it. 

Mistaking your gaze for scrutiny, he asks, a bit self-consciously, “What do you think? Will your mother approve?”

She will. There’s no doubt in your mind. But you’re not looking at him through her eyes when you tell him, “Yeah, you look good. Really good.”

The last part probably wasn’t necessary, but the way he flushes makes it almost worth it. Casting your eyes downward in an effort to hide a smile, you notice a detail that you missed earlier. 

Jewelry. Gold jewelry. A handful of rings on his fingers and a delicate bracelet on his left wrist.  

Suddenly, his message from last night makes a little more sense.

Jake [9:02 pm]: What color is your dress for tomorrow?

You [9:08 pm]: Gold. Don’t worry about trying to match. A black suit will be just fine. 

Now, you’re grateful he didn’t fully listen to you, touched that he even bothered to ask.  

Across from you, Jake is suddenly having a bit of a hard time breathing. The earlier near-fiasco with your doorman all but forgotten, you’re still admiring his bracelet as his eyes scan the length of you, throat bobbing by the time his gaze makes its way back up to your face. 

“You, uh,” he coughs. “You look nice too.”

“Thank you.” You miss the way his gaze wanders, can’t seem to find a place to land that won’t dust the tops of his cheekbones an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing this dress forever.”

And it is a nice dress, Jake thinks, but he’s not sure how to tell you that’s not what he meant. 

Eyes finally landing on your feet, or rather, on the stilettos you’re wearing, he frowns. “I had to park kind of far away.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll pull the car around front.”

“Okay.” Something in you melts a bit at his consideration, at the fact that he even noticed. “Thank you.”

And it is nice, you think, to not be beginning the evening with your feet already sore. To have someone pick up on the little things, even if he’s being compensated for it in the form of half-price tutoring.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you try not to sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl when he opens the door for you, when he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he reverses the car out of its parking spot. Get it together, you think. You’ve turned up your nose at far more obvious attempts at wooing you, and it’s not like Jake is here with you out of his own volition. The thought is surprisingly disappointing, as he adjusts the stereo, soft music filling the silence.

The drive passes like that, in a quiet that’s only uncomfortable if you look at it too close. Eventually, the soft melodies filtering through the stereo become a pleasant sort of background noise as you watch the world blur outside the window. 

It would be smart, probably, to sort out your story for the evening and put together something coherent for when the two of you are inevitably asked invasive questions, but you can’t bring yourself to be the one to disturb the peace. 

So when you arrive at the fundraiser a handful of minutes later, you just have to hope that the image the two of you strike together will be enough to stave off any unwanted questions for the time being. 

Again, Jake opens your car door for you, offers a steadying hand as you step out of it. And when he gives you his arm as you enter through the front door of the venue, you take it, wrapping your fingers around his elbow. Pausing just outside the entrance, you watch as he takes a deep breath.  

“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. 

Jake answers for the both of you. “Let’s do this.”

Walking through the lobby, you hand your jackets to the coat check attendant before entering the ballroom where the fundraiser is held. Despite your general distaste for this evening and everything it entails – you sneak a glance at your partner in crime. Well, mostly everything – you can’t help but admire the space around you.

Decorated immaculately down to every last element, your mother truly doesn’t spare any expense or detail when it comes to throwing parties. And like always, she somehow manages to have a sharp eye on everything and everyone, no matter how chaotic or busy. You’ve hardly taken two steps inside the ballroom when she finds you, approaches you will all the grace of a panther stalking its prey. 

Pulling you in for a quick hug, the warm greeting she gives you is more for the benefit of onlookers than for you. And it forces you to remove your hand from Jake’s arm.

Looking over your shoulder, her voice is sickeningly saccharine. “And this must be James,” she beams, making eye contact with the wrong brother. Directing her attention to him, she gushes, “My daughter has told me wonderful things about you.”

Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. Jake stifles a laugh, expertly turns it into a cough. 

Really? You think. She did all that digging on James’ so-called turtle philanthropy but never bothered to pull up a picture of the guy? And you mean, standard genetic similarities aside, it’s not like the two of them look that much alike.

“Actually, mom,” you spare him the expense of having to correct her mistake, “this is Jake Sim. James’ brother. We go to school together.”

“Oh,” her eyebrows fall at the slip, no doubt an unforgivable social faux pas in her mind. “You never filled out the RSVP form, sweetie,” she somehow makes the term of endearment sound like a curse, “so I wasn’t sure who you’d be bringing.” Trust her to find a way to make her mistake your fault. 

Turning back to your date, she tries to remedy her mistake. “Jake, then.” She offers him a smile so forced you’re surprised her cheeks aren’t aching. Looking back at you, she fishes, “And he’s your…?”

Her dangling bait goes untouched. “He’s my plus-one.” It’s an intentional choice of words on your part. In your mind, it’s a neutral enough term that will hopefully let you navigate the evening without too many rumors or invasive questions about your personal life from people you only speak to out of reluctant obligation.  

Jake is less used to the way your mother tends to poke and prod, the way she likes to examine the superficial details of your life with a microscope and make sure she can frame them in a way that will be pleasing for public perception. The way she doesn’t ask about your love life because it’s of any genuine interest to her, but because she wants sole control of the rumor mill’s production. 

Next to you, he stiffens, feels as though he’s already failed some kind of test he didn’t know he was taking, wasn’t given any materials to study for. 

There’s a lot to be said, probably, about the way you pick up on his discomfort so easily. The way your hand returns to the crook of his elbow wordlessly and gives a single, gentle squeeze. Reassuring him, putting his nerves at ease, as you begin to navigate your way out of this conversation. 

“We’d better find our seats,” you tell your mother. The only reason Jake can identify the icy edge hiding in the superficial sweetness of your voice is because he’s been on the receiving end of it. On multiple occasions. Directed at someone else, he finds it almost amusing. “Wouldn't want to miss anything.”

“Of course,” your mother concedes, but there’s an undertone there. Jake can tell that there’s a war being waged here, battles and skirmishes in subtext and stilted pauses. He’s no stranger to the way high society likes to wrap up insults in niceties and skirt around delicate topics, but his own family has never been anything but blunt when it comes to their distaste for him and his choices. 

He’s still not entirely sure what he just witnessed, but you’re dragging him by his arm to find your assigned table before he can sort through the offending slights and put on armor that may be of any use to you. 

Carefully arranged, the maze of tables is easy enough to navigate. Each seat has a white place card in front of it, embossed with a shimmery golden script that matches your dress and holds the name of the guest who’s been assigned to sit there. 

You drag Jake past a flurry of names and attendees he half recognizes, stopping only to grab two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handing one to Jake before you continue on your mission. After another minute of searching, you find your name at a table a few rows out from the far wall. Rolling your eyes, you can practically hear your mother’s reasoning: Not too close to the wall. Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m trying to hide her. But certainly not anywhere near the center of the room, in case she falls into that pesky habit of being an awful embarrassment.  

Standing behind your chair, your eyes find the place card stationed in front of the seat next to yours at the same time Jake’s do. 

“Oh my god.” The exasperation is apparent, even though your words are barely audible where you mutter them under your breath. 

Because of course this hasn’t already been enough of a train wreck. Because of course the place card next to yours doesn’t have Jake’s name on it. Nope, embossed in the same shimmery gold is the name of another person entirely. 

James Sim. 

You turn to your date, apologetic. “God, I’m sorry. I really didn’t fill out the RSVP form, but I didn’t think she’d just assume…”

“It’s okay.” Jake gives you some grace. “Really, it wouldn’t be the first time.” And all things considered, he kind of is in his brother’s seat tonight. Attending an event that’s better suited for the future head of the company than his forgotten younger brother. Accompanying the girl that public opinion surely dictates would be a better match for him. 

Still, you frown. Reaching for the small clutch that sits against your hip, you rummage for a moment before pulling out a black permanent marker. 

Jake glances at you sideways.Your bag of the evening is tiny, barely even big enough to hold your phone. He’s surprised you managed to fit the marker in there, much less prioritize it enough to bring it with you. “You carry that thing around with you all the time?”

You shrug. “Never know when you’ll need to do some DIY vandalism.”

It would be a lie if he said something in him doesn’t soften, just a bit, when he watches you reach for the place card in front of his seat and put a giant, bold X over his brother’s name. 

Your handwriting is no match for the computer-generated script, but Jake still likes the place card a little better when you’re done with it, likes the way his name looks next to yours when you set it back on the table, alterations completed. 

“There,” you say, looking entirely too satisfied with your handiwork. “All better.” This time, you slide down into your seat before Jake has the chance to pull it out for you. Turning to him as he tentatively takes the seat next to you, he finds a small frown on your lips. “Wait,” you pause, realization written across your features. “Your brother isn’t coming, right?”

Jake shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it. He has no reason to come. My parents are on a business trip, so they won’t be here either. And that also probably means he’s more swamped than usual at the office.”

Nodding, you take a sip of champagne. “Good.” Pausing, your lips quirk. “Although it would be kind of funny if he–”

“I think you’re in my seat.” The sudden interruption is flat, leaves no room for arguments. 

Startled, the two of you spin in your chairs. 

James Sim, despite his brother’s predictions, is in fact not otherwise occupied at his office. Instead, he stands directly behind his younger sibling, strikes an imposing figure where his shadow blocks the chandelier light behind him and extends over his brother and his altered place card. 

Eyes flaming, he looks at where his name has been crossed out. Replaced. 

Next to Jake, you remain silent, figure that you’ll let Jake handle this one the way he let you handle your mother. Far be it from you to step in on a family matter.

But then you notice the way Jake shrinks a little in his seat, hides a little further in his brother’s shadow. Reaches for the place card like he wishes he could take it back.

Sliding your gaze back to your least favorite Sim sibling, your voice is even, albeit icy, when you point out the obvious, “It’s not actually. Can’t you read?” Jake’s hand stops in its tracks, falls back to his lap.

A quick look your way is the only indication James even hears you. Instead, he continues his one-sided conversation with his brother, a barely controlled sort of fury crossing over his expression. “Hm,” he muses, glancing between the two of you. “Sure seems like you two are awfully close.” Casting an accusatory glare at Jake, he adds, “That’s funny. I could have sworn you said you barely knew her.”

Her. You’re sitting right there, and you don’t even get a name. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake either. And it turns out to be just what he needs to find his voice. You’re almost proud of the sarcasm he manages to muster when he counters, “Yeah, well, this funny thing happens when you spend time together. You actually get to know each other.” Straightening his spine, there’s an unmistakable edge in his voice when he adds, “You know, when you actually bother to show up, that is.”

You hide a laugh behind your hand, albeit not very well. Glancing at Jake, a feeling swells in your chest that you can only identify as pride. You didn’t know he had it in him. 

Reassessing his strategy, James turns to you, forcing a nonchalance that is entirely contradicted by the way his cheeks are rapidly reddening. “Actually, ___,” he tries, acting as if the last thirty seconds faded out of existence at his will. “I was hoping to speak to you about something. I’d love to get you a drink if you–”

“Actually,” Jake cuts in, doubling down. “We already have drinks.” Behind you on the table, the two near full glasses of champagne are undeniable evidence. The laugh that spills out of you this time is impossible to hide. Yeah, you decide, between the two of them, you definitely hate James more. Entirely amused, the only thing you wish you had is a bowl of popcorn as you root for the underdog. Not that he needs it. Much to your satisfaction, he’s been landing his punches well. 

The giggle dies on your lips, though, when you feel the warmth of another hand suddenly cover the top of yours where it rests on your thigh. Gaze flaming, James follows the movement. Startled, your eyes fly to Jake. The only view you’re offered is of his profile as he keeps his gaze trained on his brother, the challenge in his features unmistakable. 

The only consolation he offers for your sudden shock is a small, reassuring squeeze against your knuckles. 

And then he says, “And I’d like to keep my girlfriend right here, actually.” At that, he does finally turn to you, eyes pleading, gaze imploring when he seeks your permission. Even though they’re performative in nature, his words aren’t solely for James’ benefit. “If that’s alright with you, that is.”

Girlfriend.

You were perfectly happy in the role of the observer, but now Jake has dragged you into the spotlight. Even though it pains you, you know you can’t leave him hanging. Not when that would mean a sure victory for his dickhead of a brother. 

Girlfriend. The word echoes in your head, has you feeling dizzy.

“Of course,” you return hollowly, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice over the sudden rushing in your ears. “Boyfriend.”

When you smile at him, you make sure it looks sickeningly sweet enough to deter James. Your eyes, however, flash with a warning only Jake can read. 

“You’re dating?” James can’t hide his shock, and his outrage is just as obvious. 

“Yep,” Jake passes you a panicked look. But you don’t need it, don’t need his convincing. You’ve already dug yourself a deep enough hole. Trying to climb out now would only mean everything crumbles. 

“Sure are,” you confirm with a tight smile. Turning back to Jake, you add, “Actually, sweetie, I need to talk to you about, uh…” you scramble for a moment. Finish vaguely with, “that thing.” 

“Right.” Jake picks up on the threat in your eyes seamlessly, knows there’s only one acceptable response. “That thing,” he echoes. 

“Yeah, so,” you turn back to James, barely acknowledging him as you start to stand. “We’re gonna step out for a minute.”

Jake is all but putty in your hands as you switch the positioning of your grip so that the hand that was resting on yours is now encased firmly between your fingers. 

“See you later,” are Jake’s breathless parting words to his brother. 

“Hopefully not, though,” you alter. 

And then you’re dragging him back through the crowd towards the exit, and it’s all Jake can do to not run into the other guests or knock over the delicately balanced trays of hors d’oeuvres waiters carry throughout the room. He’s at your mercy all the way through the double doors of the ballroom, and you pause only briefly to determine which hallway is less likely to have people in it before deciding on the one to the right, towing him along behind you.

Once you’re far enough away from unwanted eyes and ears, you start wiggling every door knob you come across, growing visibly more frustrated until you finally find an unlocked one. Huffing, you push Jake into the spare storage closet first. Following him in, you close the door behind you. 

The sudden change in space puts you in close proximity. Your nose is only a handful of inches away from his when you start laying out accusations. 

“What the hell?” With the same hand than just dragged him on a half marathon, you shove at his chest. “Boyfriend?” You have half a mind to grab the broom standing next to you and start whacking him with it. 

“I’m sorry!” Jake holds his hands up defensively. He doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing every cleaning tool around you, no doubt deciding which would make the most effective weapon. “I panicked, okay? I just hate that smug little look he gets on his face–”

“Well you’re about to be seeing ‘that smug little look’ a lot more once he calls your bluff!” you half-shout, trying to convey your anger without alerting anyone to your presence.“The timeline barely lines up to begin with. It’s only been what, a few weeks since I was supposed to go on a date with him? And that’s not to mention the fact that there won’t be anyone to corroborate our story, because we don’t spend any time together, since, y’know, we’re not dating.”

Jake begs to differ. You’ve invaded more than one of his Wednesday night statistics study sessions. 

But before he can point this out, you’re continuing. “Which means you’re gonna have to come up with some sort of believable explanation for why we break up after, like, three days.”

“Ugh.” Jake drags an open palm down his face. He hates to admit it, but you do have a point there. 

Fingers running through his hair, his sudden stress is apparent. And you’re not trying to send him to an early grave, but would it have killed him to think before he spoke? Consider the consequences of starting the exact kind of rumor you’ve been hoping to dodge all evening? You get that his brother is not exactly an easy person to get along with, but was the short-lived victory really worth the potential fallout? 

Across from you, Jake seems to be having the same realizations. A million thoughts whirring through his brain, he’s not sure where to place his focus. 

After a moment, he settles on optimism. “Look, I think it will be fine.” The more he thinks about it, the more he convinces himself he believes it. “James has been up to his ass in company stuff since the second he graduated, so it’s not like he has extra time to check up on us or anything.” And even if he did, James would have no way of knowing who to ask. Jake has the sneaking suspicion his older brother couldn’t name a single one of his friends if his life depended on it. He would have no idea who to track down to corroborate your so-called romance. 

“We won’t have to do anything,” Jake reasons. “I’ll just mention you in passing for the next few weeks if he happens to ask.” Even that should be simple enough. After all, Jake seriously doubts he will. “And by the time the holidays roll around, I can just say things fizzled naturally.” Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. Mutual, and your pride and his both remain intact. “No big deal.” 

Across from him, you weigh his words. It makes sense, yes, but there’s something starting to swirl in your gut that you don’t like. It feels a little too much like dread, like trepidation. Jake can read all of the uncertainty written across your face when you tell him, “I still don’t like it. My mother and your brother were both here tonight and already got different stories from us. This could get messy really quickly. I mean, what if our families start talking–”

“They won’t.” Jake shakes his head. “Your mom thinks I’m just a plus-one, and when my name comes up in James and my father’s conversations, it isn’t to discuss the ins and outs of my dating life.” Of this, at least, Jake is sure. His father couldn’t care less who he dates, as long as it’s not a liability to him, to the company. “Besides, we're university students.” Jake tries to lighten the mood, clear some of the tension. “Twenty-one and immature and all that.” For a moment, Jake imagines what life would feel like if that’s truly all he was, if that’s the only thing he got to be. No added pressure of a notorious last name and a reputation to maintain. Tucking that thought to the back of his mind, he decides he’ll mourn it later. “A short-lived relationship with a story that doesn’t quite add up is practically a right of passage. Not something to be suspicious of.” 

You remain silent for a moment, but your hand doesn’t get any closer to the broom.

“Okay.” Some of the tension seeps out of your shoulders as you turn his reasoning over in your brain, nodding as his logic starts to piece together. “Okay,” you reiterate. You still don’t like it, but he’s right about one thing: it is the best option you have. 

After all, there’s no way in hell you’re about to go tell your mother that your plus-one is actually your secret boyfriend, and you hate to admit it, but James’ little smirk is incredibly agitating. And it will all blow over, you’re sure. Like Jake said, James and your mother have no real reason to talk, and if Jake is convinced that his brother won’t be spreading this particular rumor, you’ll just have to believe him for the time being. 

Letting him out of the closet first, you only imitate hitting him upside the back of the head once before you catch up to him, linking arms again before reentering the ballroom. 

As the evening goes on, your worry starts to subside. Thankfully, every other part of the night goes perfectly to plan, even if you do have to force yourself to laugh a little too hard at one of Jake’s awful jokes when you catch James watching the two of you. The second glass of champagne you down helps, if nothing else. 

Exactly as you predicted, after two and a half hours have passed, you and Jake are sneaking out the back exit, tiptoeing to his car as the fourth speaker of the evening continues their droning speech inside the event. Your mother is none the wiser to your early departure, and you hope it’s the first in a series of victories for the evening. 

When Jake drops you off just outside the front doors of your apartment building, his smile is almost reassuring enough to put that lingering sense of unease to rest where it still sits in your gut. 

Makeup removed, hair washed, and evening gown traded for pajamas, sleep is slow to find you a handful of hours later. Eventually, though, it does, and your rest is undisturbed, dreamless. 

…

The next morning, with nothing but the pastel tones of sunrise and the sound of his brewing coffee maker to keep him company, Jake Sim stares at the message on his phone in abject horror. 

Mom [7:32 am]: I can’t believe I had to find out from your brother! Family dinner next weekend at our place. Bring your girlfriend. :) 

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CONTINUED IN PART 2

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note: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. part two still needs some love, and I'm hoping to have it out around this same time next week. I'll announce for sure when I have a release date & time. as always, I love hearing any thoughts/comments/screaming you may have. happy reading!

LETS GO IZZY 💪💪💪💪🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

cupid's mistake | tbz kim sunwoo

“Now that’s a mistake that I can live with.”

​PAIRING » the boyz kim sunwoo x fem!reader (ft. nct's na jaemin) TROPE/AU » friends to lovers, non-idol au!, high school au! GENRE »​ THIS WAS SO FLUFFY UWU, but also add those angsts!!, SLIGHTLY suggestive (one makeout scene), love triangle...?, (kinda) slowwww burn, i love supportive and attentive sunwoo who gives so much love to the reader, MUTUAL PINING, they're both blind aye, sunwoo is an idiot because he PUSHES THE READER AWAY GRRR, cliché cause i live for this hehe, sunwoo babysits the reader's little bro (cutie sunwoo), sunwoo is the type to give the reader physical space because she's overwhelmed, a terrible attempt at comedy, oh...i think i'm in love with kim sunwoo again (i literally changed my bias to hyunjae like a month ago---) WORD COUNT » 13,061 (hi yes, izzy is entering her long wc era!!)​ ESTIMATED READING TIME » i'm scared to put this down 😭 forgive me!! WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » suggestive!!, reader is a lightweight (not sure if this is a warning), reader uses alcohol to distract herself (sunwoo will come to the rescue tho!), reader has a bad schema for men, incredibly fast proofread once

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

hands down the hardest story i've EVER written (including my 40+ wips) and i stopped multiple times because it explores a huge part of my life that makes me super vulnerable. the internet may judge me after this but i'm going to stay strong for myself; they don't know what i've been through.

i'm glad that i have met idols who have at least helped my schema for men. mark lee, na jaemin, cho seungyoun (woodz), lee jaehyun (hyunjae) and kim sunwoo (sorry i was so harsh on you 😭 i'm very thankful for your existence no wonder what anyone else believes and thinks; and people can believe what they want to believe because i'm tired of trying to make them believe something else).

izzy...

if there is one internet trend (?) that you should take seriously, it's that: not all men are the same.

and you know that. you've seen it with your guy friends and the teachers that you were close to in high school. they're not like the ones who hurt you. i know you're scared and with what you've been through, i would like to at least believe that it's valid. i really hope that you keep going and keep fighting.

thank you for reading @heemingyu @mmoonbaee !! love our chaotic trio!! 🥰

You’ve rejected Kim Sunwoo before.

Twice, apparently.

It left the rest of your friend group flabbergasted when they heard that you did something so incredible. When asked why you rejected the friend that has stuck with you since the beginning of your hellish high school days, the only response you gave them was a fake smile with your eyebrows knitted together and your eyes roaming around the room, avoiding the intense (and totally unnecessary) curiosity in their gaze.

The truth is that you really do see why people fall in love with Kim Sunwoo.

You agree with the fact that he’s a romantic person and would absolutely take care of his partner well. You can vouch for this with the number of times he almost faceplanted on the very non-slippery cement when he saw you on the other side of the road, excited to finally see his dearest best friend. You can confidently vouch for him when he stubbornly gives his favourite hoodie for you to use, not hesitating to make sure you’re warm even though he knows he’s going to be bedridden. You can brag about your best friend’s selfless personality, telling them how Sunwoo went out of his way to comfort you along the beach at night when you said you were feeling empty.

Out of everyone in the world, you’re the one who knows best that Sunwoo has always been a caring person. Like that time when you both finally became adults and he waited for his first sip of alcohol to be with you. Embarrassingly, you’re much more lightweight than you both thought but even though Sunwoo could barely balance his steps, that didn’t stop him from giving you a piggyback ride walk to your house where he also really embarrassingly this time, actually faceplanted in front of your mother as he misses the step down the stairs when leaving.

So yes, you understand why people have massive heart eyes whenever he’s around.

But to you, he’s just your best friend. One that you hope would be there for you every step of the way even after you go on to the next chapters of your life.

The first confession was a quick one, a simple “Have you ever thought of dating me?” from Sunwoo and with a playful disgusted look, you simply respond with “Ew, no way.”

But the second one is more serious for Sunwoo. His heart was beating so fast that it was strong enough to make his whole body fall onto the ground; maybe it would’ve been better for the Earth to swallow him up so that he’d never have to face you ever again. He didn’t know what took over him and where the sudden urge came from but he meant every single word that he said—and the hues of red and pink on both his cheeks show his true feelings for you (which you missed).

But maybe Sunwoo overestimated how confident he could be around you because as soon as he sputtered “I like you. Should we start dating?” He saw the way your fingers stopped their aggressive tapping on the black squares of your keyboard, freezing and halting for a bit more before your shocked eyes met his nervous ones. Scared to ruin this perfect friendship that he already has with you, he backs out of his words, shaking his head and letting out his forceful rehearsed laugh that got you both kicked out of the library. Though the day could have been the start of something new, he still relished the way he managed to hear at least the rapid complaints fly out of your lips. You’ve been stressed out over the English essay that you’ve been so distant, so at least even though you beat him in a game or rock-paper-scissors for food, the empty wallet that he’s left with after, filled the loneliness in his heart.

Gosh even when you’re mad, he finds you adorable.

But it’s been three years since the second confession and now three years after, Kim Sunwoo is still next to you. Call him a loser—a hopeless romantic—but he would argue the term, telling the people around him that he has his reasons.

“What are we doing for Valentine’s Day?”

The question is not a weird one between you both. Maybe you should’ve said the just-friends boy and girl version of ‘Galentine’s Day’ or whatever the kids these days call it because Sunwoo’s heartbeat would always spike at the mention of the couple’s holiday. He’s always spent the day with you and how could you refuse when he assures you that you can leave your wallet at home?

In truth, he just didn’t want other people to take you out. He tried to fathom the image of you receiving that giant teddy bear, a heart-patterned bow around the neck and maybe the word ‘love’ embroidered on its fluffy white tummy. The only smile in his head is yours and the date that is not him, and he couldn’t help but notice the constricting muscle around his heart and the churning of his stomach.

Kim Sunwoo will always root for you. If your happiness is with someone else, then he wouldn’t dare to take that away from you. He just wants to let you know his true feelings someday—if he could.

Sunwoo swivels his chair around, a quiet hum gave out as an answer for now. He hasn’t thought much about this year, his part-time job and full-time high school student occupying his thoughts a bit too much more than he would like. Usually, he would have a list of things to do but as responsibilities piled up, the wants decreased and with how you’re practically stuck with each other either way, he manages to check off most of the things in his places to go list.

You’re unaware of the longing eyes that fixed upon you as you kept your eyes directed to the ceiling, phone raised above your eyes. You made yourself comfortable on Sunwoo’s bed, his blanket going past your chest and covering your lower body from the blasting air conditioner. Your arms are getting a bit sore but you just want to know if the main characters in the drama would kiss soo—

“Alright, that’s enough internet for you today.” The device is snatched out of your hands, your arms cheering in relief as they plop down on the bouncy material. In refute to his actions, your back straightens but everything happened in a quick three-second interval that you didn’t realise that Sunwoo was already bending down and your forehead collided with his. “Oh my Go—” Sunwoo exclaims, his butt hitting the floor in surprise.

“Serves you right!” You exclaim, begrudgingly rubbing the area with your palm. “Why were you so close?!”

“I was telling you stuff but you weren’t paying attention!”

“You could’ve shouted it!”

“I called your name thrice?!”

“Oh my God! Okay, what was it that you wanted to say?”

All words get stuck in his throat. Even though his head and bottom hurt with the two critical hits at the most unexpected time, he couldn’t help but shy his face away with the way you blew the loose strand that blocks your vision, paired with the slight jut of your little lip as you turn your attention to him.

Sunwoo stutters, gulping when he sees your raised eyebrows from the corner of his eye. “U-Up to you.” Another gulp and wandering eyes, “Is there nothing you want to do?”

“Oh but,” you recall the favour that your mum asked from yesterday. “My mum asked if I could babysit my brother because she has plans already.” Heaving an apologetic sigh, feeling bad for letting Sunwoo down.

“Hey no,” an idea comes to mind as he leisurely crosses his legs. “I love your brother! How about we just spend the day together with him?”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously to the comment he once made about kids, “I thought you said you hate kids.”

“No, I said I hate those who are cuter than me.”

A scandalous gasp from you, “Are you calling my brother ugly?! I’m telling him and my mu—”

“No!” Realising his mistake, he quickly untangles his legs and tackles you back down on the bed instantly, his bigger build toppling over yours easily. “That’s not what I meant! He's an exception!” It's unclear whether his sobs are real or not at this point. “Your mum loves me! Don’t do this to me!”

“Get off me, you stinky raccoon!”

The gym resonates with the squeaks of sixty-something shoes on its polished surface. The sound easily makes you squirm, hating that it screeches against your eardrums so violently. A chuckle is heard at the sight of the displeasure written on your face.

“Very annoying.” The honey-like voices your thoughts. “Would you like to borrow my headphones for a while?”

Instantly, you’re met with his popular gummy smile, the one that swoons everyone in your school. If people aren’t swooning over your best friend, they most probably are falling for the man who made himself comfortable next to the gym steps where you sat. His features are nothing like Sunwoo’s, softer and more approachable with the way his eyes sparkle even more with the help of the shine from above. Because this isn’t sport class, he wears his everyday uniform, his collar is properly presented and not a single speck of ramen soup makes its mark on the annoyingly white cotton. Even with the physical exercise he did, he still looks dashing and neat, wondering how his messy hair still looks attractive—but then again, men with messy hair have always captivated your heart. Jaemin’s kind personality is the final cherry on top and with how you usually have conversations like these when he’s benched or having a break, you’re certainly one of the girls who is attracted to him in no time. Your brown eyes travel further down his dazzling smile, to the black headset on his open palm.

A wave from Na Jaemin to your dazed face pulls you back to reality and you nod wordlessly to the question before. Like the gentleman he is, Jaemin doesn’t even ask you to turn to him but instead adjusts to your line of vision, slightly making the gap between the earpads bigger before resting the cushion perfectly for you. The way he did so was gentle, even tucking your hair strands behind your ear.

“Better?” Another wordless nod. Jaemin lets out an airy chuckle at your pursed lips, moving back beside you. “Here for Sunwoo?”

“And to kill time, I suppose.”

Your eyes wander back to the boy who’s working hard on the soccer field. It’s a usual routine for you to wait for his weekly soccer training so that you both can walk home together. Usually at this time, your nose would be buried in your textbooks, catching up on the work you missed due to the lack of sleep from the previous night. Usually, as well, the practice would be outdoors, the same squeaky sound being non-existent, the same one that ripped you out of your focus since the start of the practice round.

The whistle blares and the coach shouts at the team for a five-minute break. Sunwoo stops his jogging, hands on his knees as he leans to catch his breath while the rest of the team sends encouraging slaps on his back to their dear captain. Sunwoo sends a playful one back to their buttcheeks, the rowdy group enjoying the little gap before they have to get back in the zone. But this is when Sunwoo’s eyes fall upon his teammate and his best friend not too far away. His eyes soften at the way you just blink at Jaemin’s smile, betting that you’re not paying attention to a single thing that he’s saying. Unconsciously, he doesn’t realise how his hands clenched at the growing redness on your cheeks but Sunwoo doesn’t look away even when he walks to get his water bottle.

“Oh.” Eric teasingly remarks. “That’s not a good look, Sunwoo.”

“Shut up.” He mumbles back to his closest teammate. Even though he forces his back on you, he can’t help but steal obvious lovesick glances back.

“Jaemin said he’s going to ask your dearest bestie out on a date for Valentine's.”

Sunwoo tries his best not to let the comment get to him. “Well, she’s busy already.”

“With you?” Eric questions his trailing voice. “The guy she rejected?”

“Shut up!” Sunwoo groans to the boy, swinging his arm around his neck for a headlock. “You’re actually so annoying, Sohn. The whole cohort knows because of you!”

The poor boy begs for mercy, sending hits to his friend’s stomach. And Sunwoo does let go, poking his tongue out at the boy after. Overdramatically, Eric sends one back, calling mischievous names to the boy who is looking over to you once more. He couldn’t force himself to look away from the vital information that Eric said. Without knowing, his feet stride over to you both, finally catching the words from Jaemin’s moving lips.

“Can I take you out on Valentine’s Day? Are you free?”

Sunwoo sees the gears turning in your head and he pleads that you would reject the offer, pleading that you didn’t forget your words from last night. He’s looking forward to the day, especially when he researched a bunch of things that your brother likes, combining with the things you like to make sure the day will be well spent. But the breath he takes stops at his throat when you just continue to stare at Jaemin with wide eyes. Sunwoo might’ve imagined it, but he swears he could see the corner of your lips rising, your head probably thinking of a fun, romantic date with Jaemin.

It’s obvious to him even on the other side of the gym, that Cupid has shot his arrow.

“Yeah.”

The answer didn’t come from you, the response was too deep to be your timbre. The headphones did their job well, masking Sunwoo’s steps and leaving you confused by the clear and loud answer he gave. Excited at the confirmation of your empty schedule, Sunwoo’s heart churns at the way Jaemin excitedly holds your hands, turning your confused head tilt to him into another blushing one. Unfortunately, you were unable to say a word to any of the two boys, the coach beckoning everyone in the team over for the final part of their practice.

Faintly, you hear Jaemin saying that he’ll contact you and that you can return his headphones tomorrow in class. You just watch the way Jaemin hops back to the rest of the team while Sunwoo follows closely behind, his shoulders slightly slumping as he drags his feet to make that noise you hate.

The walk home isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Sunwoo acts like the gym didn’t happen and you raise your eyebrows at his suspicious actions of him walking slightly in front of you even though he still talks about the parts of the day when you weren’t with him. With the slight gap, you observe the way his front bangs slump over his vision, covering his sullen eyes. The hands inside his pockets continue to tense and he tries his best to ignore the obvious crease between your eyebrows. He doesn’t even question the short answers you came up with in his storytelling. Even now as you arrive at your front door, Sunwoo doesn’t bring the topic up, choosing to send his usual smile and ‘see you tomorrow’.

But you refuse to let his actions go. “What was that all about back there?”

It puts Sunwoo’s feet rooted to the ground and he feigns an innocent look. “You know,” he starts now with a smirk on his face, “Na Jaemin could totally figure out that you have the biggest crush on him with the way you looked at him with those googly eyes of yours.”

“I do not have googly eyes when I look at Na Jaemin!”

“Sure, you don’t.” Rolling his eyes, “You were close to drolling over him back there.”

You could tell that he was just avoiding the subject and prolonging touching it until you just let it go. “Sunwoo.” The tone of your voice tells him that you're seriously looking for answers, “Why’d you say that back there? I thought we were babysitting my brother together?”

“It’s fine.” He swats his hand in the air. “You go have fun and I’ll look over the child myself.”

“But I—”

“Can you just stop complaining and go in? I’m tired from practice.” Sunwoo cuts you off, turning the doorknob and pushing you in with small strength. “See you tomorrow!”

He does close the door on your face, ignoring the inhale you take and walking away before you start rebutting his words. But with that, you also missed telling Sunwoo of your mum who stands leisurely behind him and when your mum greets him, Sunwoo gets the scare of his life, yelping and crouching to the floor, a hand over his chest.

“Serves him right for cutting me off twice.”

At this time, you didn’t realise the ache in your heart, too busy chuckling at his misery as your mum helped the poor boy before he disappeared out of your sight with multiple polite bows.

Now, Sunwoo is left to wallow in his stupidity. The devil in his head even shakes his head disapprovingly and the angel desperately tries to cheer him up, telling him that everything will be fine but it has no effect on the distraught boy. He lets out all the swear words that he knows, mumbling them to himself, criticising his past actions. A headache starts to form and he is unable to walk a straight line on the well-leveled road.

“You’re an idiot, Kim Sunwoo.”

He replays the earlier scene. The way your eyes fall on Jaemin fondly, the way all words seem to be lost when he speaks to you and the way you freeze when Jaemin holds your hand in his. His feet stop dragging on the stone when he spots an ice cream truck and the sweet fragrance of your favourite flavour. Even with small things like this, he thinks of you.

He observes the two friends who approach the vehicle, recognising the uniform as the same as the ones he has on. Judging by the satisfaction on the girl’s face and the complaints of the boy, Sunwoo assumes that the shorter one probably won a bet or something. His mind wanders to you once more, the dynamic of his two underclassmen similar to the one he shares with you.

More calm and accepting that he has probably lost you to Na Jaemin, if asked why he still chooses to stick with you after two rejections, Kim Sunwoo can.

The fastest and simple answer is that you don’t have a good schema for love. It was shattered the moment that you found out that your dad cheated on your mum four years ago. Your family fell apart shortly after your dad packed everything and left, leaving your mum alone as the sole parent when you were still trying to fully understand the world around you.

The rest of the world doesn't see how the separation affected you. However, Sunwoo was there during the times when you cried your eyes out, taking the frustrated punches on his chest, when you declared that you would never fall in love, scared of falling into the same fate as your mother especially when your dad has always voiced out that he loves his family and would always stay with them.

The world doesn't see how you hide behind his reassuring back whenever a male is too close for your liking. They don't see how you practically hold onto his arm with anxiety after a person confesses to you even though you're thankful that they look at you fondly. They don't see the fear in your eyes like Sunwoo has seen every single part of it.

When you would tease each other, like the time when he tackles you onto the bed, that's an exception. Sunwoo has always paid attention to your actions, both conscious and unconscious. He knows all about when you and when to keep his distance.

Thirty centimetres, sixty sometimes, and he would always wait for you to close the gap, stealing glances behind to make sure you were still following. Ninety-nine point nine per cent of the time, you would pick up your pace and Sunwoo would purposely slow down and the gap between the side of his arm and body would get bigger with each step you grow closer to him. When you clutch onto his arm again, he sends you that understanding gaze, mouthing a little 'hi' or 'hello' before facing forward again with newfound happiness.

The other point one is you asking if he could come back to stand beside you. But again, he would never ever touch you first and even when you arrive at your doorstep with no progress, Sunwoo would still look at you, reminding you of how proud he is and winks playfully to lift the corners of your lips before sending his 'see you tomorrow' still with happiness as his main aura.

It breaks Sunwoo’s heart whenever he sees you like that. That's the reason why he took his second confession back.

So when Kim Sunwoo, selfless and rooting for your genuine happiness, sees the different gaze that you send Na Jaemin, he can’t help but push his feelings aside. Plus, Na Jaemin is a good guy so he feels more reassured setting you up with the ace striker in the soccer team.

Cupid frowns down at the boy, his wings flapping sadly at the fake smile he puts on as he continues his walk home. It’s strange how he found himself sad for the dejected boy.

“Truly an idiot you are, Kim Sunwoo.”

Back home, you rewarded yourself with a warm shower. Though your physical body was able to let loose under the light sprinkles, your eyes couldn't help but mix in the metallic water with your salty ones. The water pressure manages to swallow most of your cries but the mirror doesn't lie when you see your red eyes after.

The gulp you took is painfully dry, tired from the tears from earlier. Your reach for the bathrobe is slow, letting the air cool touch your slightly red skin after the temperature. “At least he made it clear that he doesn't like me in that way.”

The knocks against the nearby room beckons a ‘Come in!’ from you and you quickly run the sides of your fingers on your eyebags as soon as you register the young boy from the mirror.

“Sis!” Dashing towards you, headbutting your back, “I heard Ddeonu hyung will be here tomorrow night!”

It's endearing to see how the news makes the little one jump, both his hands on your arm for support. A hand ruffles his already messy nest, “Be good tomorrow, okay?”

And the response morphs the smile upside down, “You’re not gonna be with us?”

Overloading with cuteness, you couldn't help but swivel around on your vanity chair towards your sibling, your hands pressing his cheeks, “With or without me, you're going to be with Sunwoo all day anyways!” Remembering all the times when he preferred to be in Sunwoo’s arms over yours, “Just don't make the poor raccoon run around too much, okay? He's getting old.”

“Does that mean he will fly to the cloud soon?”

“No, no.” Making a mental note to tell Sunwoo and imagining the way his jaw would drop at the wild question, “He's just old and tired now.”

Though confused at the repeated answer, the child seems to let it go, shrugging in satisfaction anyway at the plans for tomorrow. The smile upturned once more and you lift the boy much to his happiness, kicking his legs when you adjust his posture on your vanity table.

“Makeup!” He exclaimed about the objects around him, open palms to mimic a twinkling motion in the air.

“Makeup!” You echo, grabbing the cushion foundation. “Do you want to make me into a Princess?”

Obviously, he would not reject the offer, snatching the round object into his palm and patting the powder onto your neck.

“I'm going to make you the prettiest sister ever and raccoon hyung won't be able to take his eyes off you!”

Cupid shakes his head once more, his belly lying on the puffy cloud. He rests his chin on his palm, wondering how the similar-sized boy is more likable to him than the two blind adults—but it's obvious because he's not the stupid one.

“Well,” clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “this one is an idiot too.”

Leading up to Valentine's Day, you thought at the very least you could spend the missed day with Sunwoo but he's more than adamant about pushing you to Jaemin. Whenever he saw a window of opportunity, he would call the boy over, a big waving motion from his hand in the air.

Whenever Jaemin spots you, every part of his face lights up and yours is supposed to reciprocate the stars in his eyes. But how could you even see it when all you see is the whole universe in Sunwoo’s ones instead?

The realisation that it has always been Sunwoo scares you and it terrifies you even more that the same boy who has always given his heart to you is making the gap between you both larger, further away, more and more within arms reach for your comfort. At first, it was confusion but then every part of your aching heart just longed for his presence beside yours once more.

Jaemin reminds you of the date one last time, the final text before you part ways at the school entrance is bolded, italicised and underlined. And Sunwoo? He intruded the house way earlier than everyone expected but judging from the open arms from your mother and the way you could hear your brother’s shrieking from the other side of the house, it's obvious that you’re the only one who’s dreading the early visitor.

Speaking of the visitor, your brother made himself comfortable by sitting on his neck, hands gripping his hair to make two little pigtails. Seeing Sunwoo fit right into your family from the very start has always been heartwarming and you would've told your brother to pull on two tails if you weren't busy avoiding his eyes from the mirror.

“Look!” Sunwoo gasps to your brother, finger pointing to you, “Your sister is so pretty, isn't she?”

And it became ten times harder to keep your tears from falling.

“Thanks.” You managed to seeth out from gritted teeth.

“Come on! You're going to be late.” Reminding you of the long hand of the clock reaching the top of the circle when Jaemin promised to pick you up. “Which bag are you using?”

It's heartbreaking to see him just walk past you after the compliment, whistling leisurely as he looks through the pile of bags on the side hook of your wardrobe. You found yourself looking down at your lap, trying to shake off the nervousness and anxiety in your mind. You try your best to focus on the tension of your gripping fists, letting go and repeating to ground yourself back. The tears are starting to blur your vision but you push the sleeves of your outerwear over your knuckles and smudge them away.

The way that Sunwoo still entertains your brother as he takes the body of the bag in your direction, humming intently to see if the colour of your outfit will clash with the accessory, brings your emotions to their peak and you just want to run away from this situation. He settles on one, a victorious exclamation falling from his lips and begins stuffing your necessities himself.

“Phone,” checking off the mental list, “keys and wallet.” Your brother pointing at the lone lipstick left at the centre of the painted surface, “Ah! This too!” Putting the closed cylinder inside the small purse before the metal zips and is carefully balanced on your shoulder.

Your thankful mutter didn't go unheard by Sunwoo and so did the tinge of makeup on the sleeve that you used when he looked away for a brief moment.

“Hey!” Sunwoo cranes his head to speak to the younger, curious eyes. “Why don't you go on ahead first and pick what ramen you want?”

The kicking of his heels against his chest made him wince a bit, quickly putting your younger brother where he dashes off with his favourite food.

Throughout the whole exchange, it once again confirms the fact that Sunwoo is truly loving to the people around him. The way that he tries not to disappoint your brother, even if there are probably bruises forming from his kicking, the way that he peels his head out to make sure your brother is taking careful steps to the kitchen and finally, the beaming but adoration in his eyes when he finally lands on the casual outfit you're wearing.

“Wow.” A breathless chuckle, head empty with the sight of you.

His cheeks flushed and he couldn't help but stare at your stunning choice of outfit—if hoodies and no makeup could make his heart jump out of his chest, then he should go to the hospital because of your off-the-shoulder white top paired with the beige pleated skirt and cardigan.

“Okay?” You ask timidly, “L-Like, do I look okay?”

“You're stunning.” He says truthfully that your body goes numb, looking away from the sparkles in his eyes.

Now, that's new. “Hey…” Taking steps towards you, “What's wrong?”

But your heart is fighting so hard that you feel like you're about to give up. If Sunwoo is going to reject you, then you just want him to do it so that you can forget about all this and just go back to pretending that you will never have heart-shaped eyes for Kim Sunwoo ever again.

“Y-You’re okay with this?” The leather of your bag crinkles at your gripping question.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo answers. “Don't worry. Jaemin is a great guy.”

Your eyes widen at the comment, “No, I-I know that bu—”

But Sunwoo suddenly zooms into your face, even bending his back to make sure that you wouldn't miss the pout on his handsome face. His eyes landed on your lip-touched makeup, “Wait, can I have your lipstick? Let me retouch it for you.”

You couldn't even refute, feeling the cooling pink painting your lips, contrasting the palm on your cheek that steadies the delicate work on your lips. Why did he bother asking if he was just going to retrieve it himself? You're thankful Sunwoo can't multitask, missing the glimmer in your orbs as you try your best to keep your lips from shaking like your legs are slowly becoming. It’s clear that he didn’t know how to properly manoeuver the brush on your lips but you find yourself forgiving him even if your lips become a mess after this.

The defeated groans from his lips only made your heart swell and you take your time to look at him as if you’ve never done so before; from his eyelashes that flutter prettily, to his tongue that pokes out in concentration, it’s crazy how handsome someone can be when he's not doing anything special. The pads of his finger spread the colour, smacking his lips as a sign for you to copy which you eventually do.

“Done!” And just when your heart thought it could finally get a break, Sunwoo decides to play with it a bit more, fishing out a snap hair clip. His hands smooth any bumps that aren’t visible to the naked eye. A hand holds the side of your head gently, the other sliding the gift across your scalp carefully. “Alright, now let’s go!”

Your tears are so incredibly close to flowing but the lights of your room die like every hope of telling Sunwoo that you’re not as excited as he is for the night to come. But if this is Sunwoo’s way of completely rejecting any romantic feelings for you, then what can you do except to trudge down your hallway where even your brother wishes that you would have a fun time? The smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes when both boys remind you not to come home late in addition to Sunwoo’s “Text or call me if you need anything!”

You spare a final glance at the two, sombre smile plastered on your face. The last face you see is Sunwoo’s whose eyes still held on a smile even though yours has been wiped away. Maybe it was supposed to encourage you or maybe it’s nothing and you’re just reading too deep into it but if there’s one thing you know is that the night with Jaemin, even though he is a well-mannered man, a gentleman inside and out, your head couldn’t help but wish that it was Sunwoo who took you to the arcade, making sure your arms are filled with snacks and drinks.

You wished that after that, no one was there to pull your chair out, instead laughing at the way you almost tripped on air while trying to sit down. You wished that you could’ve just stared at the menu in contemplation and for Sunwoo to just choose for you so that he could silence the growling in his stomach.

Cursing the famous day as well, seeing the love around you, the couples enamoured by their partners all around you, it only made the guilt inside grow further.

By the time the night is spent, Jaemin knows that his feelings aren't reciprocated. First, it's the way you ask him to repeat his words multiple times. Second, it's the way that your eyes are blank, just your orbs staring into space. Third, it's the way that you try to discreetly check your smartwatch for notifications from your best friend at your home.

“I'm sorry.” Jaemin chuckles in response after he softly calls you out.

The boy shakes his head, hands inside his pants pockets. “I knew that you didn't like me. I guess I just wanted a chance to maybe change that once.” But then he sighs an understanding sigh, closing his eyes before fluttering them back at you, “but you're too far gone into your feelings to realise what I've been doing.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, apologetic at his words and Jaemin couldn't do much but give words of comfort after you explicitly stumbled away from his reaching hand, asking for physical space. You mutter a million apologies for today but Jaemin is respectful, convincing you that the friendship between you both won't change and that eases your mind.

“Should I text Sunwoo?” He carefully asks. “To pick you up.”

A shake of your head is what had Jaemin’s eyebrow furrowing. “It’s okay. I’ll text him right now.”

And though your makeup is a mess, transferring onto the sleeves of your cardigan more, Jaemin still thinks you're stunning, the clenching of his heart intensifying at the glitter you still managed to hold. Jaemin leaves you alone in a convenience store near your favourite beach and somehow, you manage to convince him to go on ahead first, leaving your thoughts alone in the night of love.

Your feet routinely take you along the beachside, taking shelter at the convenience store for a while, grabbing drinks and food to aid your broken heart. When you crouch for the bottle at the bottom shelf, your mind just has to remind you that someone wouldn't even let you do this, always protecting you from any wardrobe malfunction.

Your knees finally give out and the back of your thighs meet with the back of your lower leg. Your hands only clutche on the neck of the green bottle while you hide your distressed face behind the curtains that your hair made.

Thinking of it all infuriates you.

Why can't you just be more trusting towards others? Believe that not all of them are out to ridicule or make fun of you.

“Sunwoo…” You couldn't help but mumble as your tears finally painted your beige skirt darker.

Thankfully you were able to keep your emotions somewhat at bay, straightening your posture with the cooling drink in one hold. The cashier could only offer you an encouraging speech and an empathetic smile as soon as she saw the trail on your cheeks. The gesture is needed but the anxiety still weighs on your chest deeply. She must've thought that you've gone through a huge breakup on this unfortunate pinky day but you think the internal agony is worse.

For the last few hours or so, Sunwoo has been updating you with your baby brother through pictures. If only the pictures were just about the younger one and not a duo picture that once again shows that Sunwoo is a keeper when it comes to babysitting. The device is stashed in the bag that he chose from you earlier but if you could, you could honestly feed it to the sharks on the beach in front of you.

The wind provided you company, hitting your red apple-coloured cheeks to balance your rising temperature. You knew you shouldn't drink alone especially when the moon was high in the sky but you couldn't help but bask in the tide that hit the sand, pulling everything back into the body of water.

The tips of your toes are drenched and you would usually be running further away as soon as water hit your ankles but you didn't want to. It’s times like these that you’re thankful for the invention of safety shorts as you're able to sit in any posture you like without worrying. Your knees constantly bend and straighten, dragging the sand along with it and at this point, you've created a shallow hole.

“I mean,” you slur, “I’m so comfortable with Sunwoo so why can't I be the same with the others?” your eyes could only shut in self-contempt from today’s date, “And Jaemin was so respectful to me too…”

It’s frustrating that you can't trust others when they've done nothing wrong. The only thing that responded to the strike down your cheek was the last drop of liquid courage; now even objects have started mocking you.

“I have to stop relying on him,” a hiccup and a humourless laugh. “When he gets a girlfriend…” the thought cracks your heart into pieces and your knee grows closer to your chest, “Gosh, what am I doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

The deep voice and a couple of deep breaths made you turn back so quickly that you fell over sideways. The boy momentarily scolds you even more, grumbling, pointing at your ruined shoes tossed aside in the sand and exhaling whilst turning his head away to catch a break from the soaked ends of your outerwear. When the worry envelops him again, Sunwoo takes a better look at your state.

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth loudly and the crease between his eyebrows only deepens each time his eye focuses to another part of your face.

“Did you drink?! Alone?! I told you not to drink without me!”

His initial volume made you jump a bit, especially with how he directly circles behind you to pick up the discarded, lonely bottle. Sunwoo's nagging continues, crouching beside you to your eye level with the bottle making tunes from the wind. The pout answers him, along with the way your fingers fiddle on the hem of your sleeves. You had no intention of voicing out the answer now that he knows so you just say something else.

“You actually came…”

The ‘something else’ did make his ramble stop and his intense features started to soften and melt away when your words hit him.

“Of course, I came.” Reassurance above the whispering wind, “You texted me.”

Your lips couldn't even gape open with a response because Sunwoo takes a couple of steps back, away from you. Though his body is still facing yours with his shoes pointing at you and arms around his knees, the safe distance is what makes your head hurt at the many things you could say to him.

“Did you put him to sleep?” You opted for this conversation instead.

Sunwoo’s nods just got in your peripheral vision, but your nod is the centre of his.

You let the wind break you even more, not even raising your hand to move the strands that became trapped between your lower and upper eyelids, tickling your eyes when it finally is freed. Without a doubt, you know that Sunwoo is just watching you patiently, waiting for you to tell him to drop you home or to at least talk about the night whether it be his or yours. Your nervous system couldn't help but relax in his presence.

Inside, Sunwoo wants something from you too. An indication to move further and to close the thirty-centimetre gap he has created. Just anything so that he could finally leave the coldness that nips at his trembling skin. His bangs brushes over his sight but he still has a clear view of you. The side of his head only rests on his arm as he just stares at you, humming a tune that hopefully reaches you.

“Woo.”

“Hm?”

“Do you like someone?”

A series of stuttering and unsure hums came from him. Your knees push against your chest hard, burying your head between them. Soon enough, you're convinced that the pressure is what kept your heart together after the affirmative answer.

“I…” Here goes nothing, “was supposed to be with her today and maybe ask her out officially but she had other plans and so did I.”

“Oh.” You didn't know if he heard it. You kind of wished he didn't because of how sore your throat suddenly feels. “I’m sorry, I should've been the one to take care of my brother inste—”

“She was busy too,” Sunwoo repeated, words clearer and punctuated. “It doesn't matt—”

“Will I be able to trust anyone again?”

“W-Wha—”

“Will someone ever love me the same way that you love her?”

The thoughts haunt you every night when you're asleep and now that you finally share it with someone, you lose yourself in the alcohol and blurt out the impulsive thoughts.

“W-Whoa.” Sunwoo nervously chuckles. “Did the date really go that ba—”

“Do I know her?”

“Ye—”

“Tell me. Let me make sure she's a good person.”

The only response you get is a low groan and sigh; both from Sunwoo and the guardian Cupid above you both. The moonlight twinkles the curve of the forgotten bottle but it reminds Sunwoo that you're not in your right state of mind and that you're just pressing to get the thoughts out of your head rather than truly looking for answers.

For the first time, Sunwoo took action, dusting his clothes from the damp sand. You merely watch with half-hooded eyes as he strides against the swallowing sand, your head slowly turning from the side to the front where he settles himself. Sunwoo gives you a soft tug of the corner of his lips and his dancing bangs only make him all the more attractive. He tests the waters, holding his hand out to reach yours, permission to touch you through his gaze. When you nod, he doesn't hesitate to share his body warmth starting from his bigger palms, relieved at how you seem to let out a breath that you have been holding.

“Deep breaths, bubs.”

The nickname makes you swoon and makes his instructions unclear. Though the pounding on the side of your head makes it hard for you to morph Sunwoo’s clone together, the name managed to at least get your attention. With this, he didn’t mind the way his clothes drank the seawater when he kneeled, even dragging his fabric across the surface. Sunwoo responds with a jut of his lower lip when you just shoot him a glare but your act disappears when he opens his arms wide. Without any further hesitation, your forehead rests on his chest. One of his hands cups the curve of your waist and the other threads through your silky hair. The act makes your body shudder and you find your arms start to hold his middle even tighter when he collects your hair and tosses it over to a side, his palm now covering your whole nape.

“You’re alright.” Sunwoo muses. His diverts to yours and maybe you’re just imagining the adoration dripping from his eyes but you couldn’t help to speak a bit of your mind.

“You're doing it again…”

“Doing what?”

You didn't give him a verbal answer, the shake of your head and the whines you gave were enough for him to just embrace you into his presence. Sunwoo hides you from the world when he sees the tears brimming across the eyes that he’s fallen for. Daring, he presses a kiss on the top of your head, smiling fondly at your more balanced breathing.

“Let’s go home?” The shake of your head made Sunwoo rake for more ideas. “Wanna have a sleepover at my house then?”

“No.” Muffled answer from his chest. “You’re just going to make me sleep on the floor.”

“Hey! You lost the bet last time! Don’t blame your skill issue with rock-paper-scissors on me!”

“Fine then! I’ll just stay here for the rest of the night!”

Oh, he's so in love with you. Sunwoo only coos, his heart fluttering and content when you respond to the playful war that he wages.

“I’ll let you take the bed.” A raised eyebrow is what you offer him with when you crane your head and Sunwoo could tell the suspicion that you had against his words. “I’m serious!”

“Really?”

A roll of his eyes and a scoff, “As if I’ll let you take the floor knowing that you’ll be hungover tomorrow.”

“Well,” a shaky inhale, “you could.”

“Yeah?” This time it’s his turn to have an eyebrow raised. “Why would I do that?”

“Because when you go off and date someone, you won’t be able to keep doing whatever this is.”

“Yeah?” He repeats himself, desperate for a little bit more of your feelings. At least let me down properly, he thinks to himself. “And what happens if I don’t want to put my focus on someone else? What happens if I just want to keep focusing on you? What happens if I just want you in my life and no one else?”

Now, Sunwoo’s hands grip a hold on your upper forearm and pull you away from his body. The moonlight finally reaches your face and Sunwoo observes you thinking, his eyes boring into yours, silently pleading for some sort of indication that would end the pink and red swirls in his eyes whenever he catches even a glimpse of your figure.

“Then I would tell you that I like you and that I have for the longest time.”

Are drunken thoughts still sober thoughts in this situation?

Sunwoo’s head dips dangerously close and it takes everything in him to not press his lips onto yours. If you even allowed any words that imply that he may have taken your heart, he told himself he would look away even if it meant burying himself into the ground and never seeing civilisation ever again. The struggle is written all over his face: the tight wrinkles around his eyes that accommodate the crashing of his eyebrows, the protective hold he has on you and the way he presses his forehead onto yours with his hair tickling you, quiet exhales leaving his lips.

“Please don’t do this to me,” he pleads, “You’re drunk and I’m trying to not cross the line.”

“Cross it…” Mellow and enchanting. “I give you my consent.”

“Don’t.” He grits and tries to still his heart. “I can't…”

“Kiss me, Woo.”

Sunwoo swore that his heart almost leapt out of his chest when his eyes shot open, immediately growing bigger with how you nudged the tip of your nose to his. His temperature receptors feel the shift of the warmer air growing closer to his lips and he can’t help but focus on the way your eyelids flutter close.

The attraction is fatal and so is the small distance left. Unconsciously, even though it’s wrong, he couldn’t help but adjust his position, wanting to claim you as his even if it’s just for a while. Just when your lips are mere millimetres away from touching, Sunwoo denies the touch of heaven, the angel inside gets his hands to fly and block the intimate act with his fingers. A hand cups your cheek, tracing along your jawline and a thumb slots in between your plump lips from reaching his. His breath hitches when you peek at the smooth surface, void of the curves that you were expecting. He watches the stars fade from your eyes, replacing them with a wall that he couldn’t decipher.

Through his eyelashes that flutter quietly and the painful gulp, he prompts you once again, “Let’s go home.” More resolute and grounded than before. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

The thumb did leave the presence on your cupid’s bow but lingers at your lip’s bottom edge. Sunwoo watches as your lips bounce back after he lightly pulls it down and he sees the dullness from your eyes with every single second that passes. He shoves his sleeves past his fingertips, wrapping the grey around his pointer and starts to collect your confusion on his sleeves.

“I-I’m sorry.”

He could tell it was genuine and he assumed that you might’ve sobered up a little bit within the last couple of seconds. Sunwoo met your forehead once again with his thumb that still held you like you were as fragile as the glass bottle that had been discarded.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going to leave you. Don’t even bother to think of those things ever again.” He reassures your muddled-up mind. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

Between your hazy vision and the churning of your stomach, the only indication you could give is a nod and outstretched arms towards his now-standing figure. Sunwoo adoringly chuckles, bending down and supporting your weight by scooping you up by your waist. He kept your body close to his even when he turned around and kneeled, patting his back for you to slump over.

Out of energy, your arms lazily dangled during the walk, elbows resting on his shoulders during the whole walk. Truth be told, his back aches because you couldn’t get a proper grip on him but he knows as soon as he straightens his back to a more comfortable position, you might actually hit your head and wake up in the hospital. The walk back to his car is quiet, chattering filling the background noise. If you’re awake, you can feel the shaking of his thighs as he carefully rests you on the cushioned seat, an arm coming over his head onto the back of yours as a safety measure from the upper door frame. Without a single sound from you, he successfully buckles you securely in the front seat. Your coat is gently undressed from you to be used to cover your legs, the short skirt only makes you shiver in the night.

“Why do cars always sound so loud?”

Sunwoo complains when he twists the car key to start the engine. His eyes fall to you again, observing your sleeping figure who is unaware of the little jumps and loops his heart made. His pointer reaches over to the loose strands that tickle the front of your face. From the back of your ear, he holds his breath at your slightly gaped lips that pull him closer, drawing him nearer to share a kiss with you. Why did you have to look so stunning despite the reeking alcohol that only becomes stronger in the small space?

Though faint, his reflection from the front window stares at him and he can’t help but sink further into the seat, wanting to hide and run away from himself. “Will you ever look at me the same way?” he grumbles hopelessly into the palms that shield him from reality before driving towards his house.

The exhaustion from the eventful day finally washes over him as soon as he parks his car in one go. Usually, you would give an impressed look and Sunwoo would wiggle his eyebrows when you only scoff at his achievements. The connecting door to his house opens, throwing his things inside the hallway without much thought before jogging back to your side. His eyes narrow, concentrating on making as minimal noises as he can whilst opening the metal surface that separates you and him. A hand pushes on the door while the other does the contrasting action with the handle to avoid the loud click that vehicles make. Thankfully your head isn’t resting on the door, something that he made sure didn’t happen so that you could rest in his house without the bumps of the road lifting your head and slamming it back down due to ruthless gravity.

And as much as Cupid’s curly blonde hair is between all the sides of his fingers, he mastered the art of patience and ‘trusting the process’ as he took a series of deep inhales.

Throughout the whole time, Cupid is impressed at how blind you both prove to be. It’s obvious now as he pays attention to the way Sunwoo treats you and the way that you desperately clutch on his jacket that you both are more than best friends. He ponders if he should shoot another arrow even though the initial one he shot is showing progress.

In this line of work, where he’s used to shooting, and observing for a while before going to another potential couple, he seems to be stuck with the couple in front of him. Up until now, he has never thought to shoot the second arrow that is reserved for a couple that makes him look away distastefully. He’s never met one that makes him take them out of their trance as it’s obvious it became more bad than good for them but what he’s twirling in his hand is not that.

But he starts to think about his decisions whenever you're hurting because of the world and he starts to think of the shatter in Sunwoo’s heart whenever he's around you.

Is it worth it to have you both come together?

“But you know,” the arrow stops between his pointer and thumb, the crest hitting the perimeter of the stationary cloud. Cupid continues to peer over the two, finding himself squealing with the way Sunwoo continues to make teasing jokes to make sure you don’t fall asleep behind the bathroom door while brushing your teeth and changing into your favourite hoodie of his. “I don’t think shooting one towards these two will do much.”

He smiles knowingly, completely immersed in the way that Sunwoo hops over to cradle your head into his chest as soon as you open the door. Your mind is still under the scorching forty percent but you didn't miss the way Sunwoo’s fingers rub on your exposed thigh when he brings you to his bed bridal style.

And if he shoots another arrow?

Oh, Cupid knows that you’re both more than just teenagers in love. Especially in your case, terrified, and for Sunwoo who just wants to see you happy—another arrow means nothing if you both don’t learn and figure out this obstacle yourselves.

With Sunwoo’s help, you’re snugged underneath his blanket, pulling it up to your nose, just the way you like it. The laundry detergent brings you rest, and your brain immediately relaxes as it associates the scent with safety. Your body rests on its side and you watch Sunwoo as he takes a kneeling position on the side of his bed, taking his hand to yours while his other forearm rests on the bouncy futon. The act makes his heartbeat increase once more. “Sunwoo.” The boy only keeps his affectionate eyes on yours while he strokes your hair. “Thank you for picking me up.”

The brushes of his thumb on the back of your palm could lull you to sleep. “Can I sleep on the living room couch today then?” Mischievously suggesting, knowing how much you would complain about leaving you alone in the room for the whole night.

The question makes you pout awake again, “You’re going to leave me?” Maybe you weren’t up for the joke and Sunwoo smiles sadly, clearing his throat and shaking his head assuringly.

“I’m just joking with you.” An airy laugh seeped out from his lips. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” Pointing at the unoccupied space behind him. “Don’t worry.”

“Or you can sleep next to me…”

Cupid feels the tension in the air after your suggestion. He propels the bed of clouds, flying closer to have a better view of you two. He’s so invested in the way Sunwoo softly looks at you that the shake of his head after some thinking makes him scream once more, burying his face into the white puff of air.

“Why not?” You scooted against his bed, making space to prove your point that the bed was big enough for you both. “It’s not like we’ve never done it before…”

“I know.” Sunwoo stands from his kneeling position but you refuse to let go of his hand. Instead, your hands slide up from his wrist to entangle them between his fingers. “Bubs…”

“I’m scared.” That’s all it took for Sunwoo’s knees to hit the floor again, coming closer to you. “What if I do manage to fall in love but then I just get hurt?”

“Then he’ll deal with me.” It elicits a whimper from you and your vision suddenly blurs once more. The tears brim up more when Sunwoo’s hand cups to rest against the apple of your cheeks with his knuckles, brushing in a circular motion. “Love them, it’s okay.”

The pressure you’re exerting on his fingers makes him furrow his eyebrows. “You’re okay with that?”

“If he makes you happy then I’m okay with that, yes. If he is the one that will make you believe in love again, then yes.” And his shoulders shrug, not as a way to say that he doesn’t care about your feelings because he does—everyone how much he cares for you. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Then make me happy.”

There it is again.

The implication that makes his eyes dart his focus from your heavy eyelids to the small gap between your lips. It travels down to your joined hands that lay next to your plump lips. He loves it. The sight of your hands, intertwining beautifully between his and the way that you’re holding him close to you as if his presence is a gift—if only he knew how much you treasure him.

“Get some sleep okay?” Ignoring it once more by throwing his eyes to his lap.

By some miracle, Sunwoo manages to break free from your hands but not before he wipes away the leftover final drops from your doe eyes. He didn’t completely leave your side just yet though. Sunwoo just sinks his right forearm on the edge of his bed, his left on top before resting his chin later on. His eyes blinked and he held the momentary darkness for a few seconds longer before opening them again. You understand, nodding defeatedly. With Sunwoo looking over you, admiring you even though he’s much more exhausted after running around your house with an energetic child, you were able to finally slumber off to sleep. He only thought about standing when heard your drowsy breathing becoming soft snores. Even then, his hand snakes behind your nape and under all your strands, pulling your luscious locks up to hang over his pillow and leaving the cold air to cool your exposed skin.

“I love you.”

And that’s when Cupid made up his mind.

The first thing that greets you when the flock of birds chirps too loudly for your liking is the gutting feeling of wanting to run down to the toilet bowl and empty the contents of your stomach. The second thing that hits you is the desert down your throat, your hand blindly rummaging on the bedside table to find the familiar shape of your water bottle. The third thing that hits you is the remnants of a tight non-existent band that wraps around your head.

It’s all a good potion to remind yourself never to drink so much liquor in such a short period.

But the fourth thing that hits you as you rise to a sitting position, thumb and pointer running up horizontally across your eyebrows, is the familiar room that isn’t yours. It takes you a while to notice but you recognise the one familiar arcade teddy bear on the very unorganised study table on the opposite of the room. The picture framed your scowl while the owner of the room held his phone up, tongue sticking out to the camera with the little peace sign above your head.

“Shit…how the heck did I get here?” Your bed hair becomes a bird's nest in a matter of seconds. “Wait so last night I went to the convenience store,” tracing your steps carefully, “drank at the beach…” but a blank after that, “Sunwoo must've picked me up.” The dread hits at the name you just spoke, “I’m not ready to face him!”

The blanket is ripped out from your lower body, and the drop in temperature sends goosebumps all over your body. Quite simply, you're embodying the term of waking up on the wrong side of the bed without its metaphorical meaning.

There was no point in peeking through the slit between the door and the frame of Sunwoo’s bedroom because you knew directly on the other side is a wall with framed pictures of the family who resides there. You ready yourself with an inhale through your nose, preparing a bunch of words despite the still evident headache before exhaling through your mouth.

The smell of batter and vanilla becomes more evident as soon as your hand creaks the door open. It excites you knowing that your favourite breakfast isn't too far away from reach. The smile that you gave though, reminds you of the pressing matters when it strikes pain through the veins on the side of your head.

Your exclamation to the feeling is what rips Sunwoo out of his daydream, turning around to see you tiptoeing not too far behind him like a thief.

“You're awake.”

Beside him, a tower of the perfectly circular cooked batter is stacked in five, maple syrup around the rim of the treat as it drops down naturally onto the rest of its friends below. You could tell that he probably timed each side with how uniform the colours of each side were. Sunwoo hasn't picked up the panic behind your eyes, setting the plate on the island between you both.

“Take this first.” He pops the white pill from its aluminium seal and reaches for the full glass of water he prepared earlier from the fridge.

Sunwoo didn't know that his proud smile would fall as quickly as you almost did when you stepped back. His feet rooted themselves to the slippery wood underneath, his eyes widening even though you managed to grab hold of the backrest of the couch next to you.

“Are you alri—”

“I should take my leave now.” You rushed to say, “My mum must be wondering where I am.”

“I told her last night, don't worry.”

Right. Just like all the times he has done whenever you fell asleep on his shoulder while watching anime with him.

“Eat something first and I'll drop you home.” His head tilted to the alluring warm cakes on the table.

The perfect cylinder on his hand would have slipped from his sweaty palms with how you shake your head in the slightest. Now he's picking up something. Do you remember the events from last night? No, you've always been a forgetful one and he would help you remember by setting up cues and would always have his camera facing you to record the horror creeping up your face.

Whatever it is, he felt the need to take the lead first, especially with how you're avoiding even looking his way and sitting down on the board of the furniture from before, your hands gripping the polyester beside your body. He's not too far away from you, maybe a metre apart but he's feeling anxious with the air himself, turning away from you momentarily.

You hear the exhausted exhale from your best friend and that made you scared to even look his way. The rim of the glass hits the marbled top. “I'm not going to do anything to you, you know?”

“Of course I know…” Keeping your emotions at bay.

“Then?”

Cupid raised both his eyebrows, hoping that you would be able to find the courage to rightfully confront Sunwoo for the feelings in your heart. His hands clamp together, lacing together as he rests his forehead on the knuckle of his thumb, silently encouraging the growth of the couple in front of him.

“I know that it’s my fault too that I didn’t speak up about the date with Jaemin. I should’ve been more honest to him first and foremost because he’s done nothing but nice to me and yes! The date was really nice and he was a gentleman like you said Sunwoo but,” the implications of the last word wipes the proud smile that he had, lips pursed to a thin line, “I wish that you didn’t put me on the spot especially when you know that I’m scared of being around men.”

There was no audible answer that he could truly give you. What you said is true and he hates that he projected to hide his feelings for you in the worst possible way. He left you alone at night, in the hands of someone that he can’t fully tell your mother honestly that he knows. The shake of his head is slow but harsh and with a glance, you could hear the cogs turning inside the distraught boy’s head.

“I’m sorry.” Wavering in fear.

“Please don’t be.” He responds. “I’m sorry.”

Despite shutting his eyes, Sunwoo feels the looming shadow that falls over his slumped figure against the tabletop. His hands join together, a loud clap making you jump a little bit at the force of his thoughts. You watch as his hands drain the blood flow, slowly making his fist white. And though your chest hurts from the anxiety running through your veins, you decided that it was best for you to clear the awkward air.

What you did is beyond anyone’s imagination but it felt right as compared to last night—as compared to all those times two years ago. Your fingers cradle the underside of Sunwoo’s jawline, separating his chin from his chest and angle his shocked face to yours. Sunwoo would’ve genuinely run away usually, maybe even letting out one of those screeches that would leave you scolding him for the pounding of your eardrums, but something else is pounding in both of your chests and it’s syncing with each other for the first time.

You move little by little, your toes slowly moving in so that you can stand between his slightly open legs until the sides of your knees are between his. Slowly, the anterior side of his forearms starts to lift from the surface behind him, testing the waters to hold you in his arms by ghosting his already encircled arm around your middle. When you nod, Sunwoo finds himself tightening the hold immediately, pulling you into the crook of his neck while your fingers thread on the loose white of his fabric. His fingers widen their reach, wanting to feel your figure on a wider surface area.

“I’m in love with you.”

It’s such a simple line.

It wasn’t extravagant nor was it unique or poetic, yet you find yourself wanting to record it so that you could play it back whenever and wherever.

“I know you’re scared.” He affirms to your growing whimpers. “But I want to continue to love you if you’ll let me.”

Now it’s official. There was no buildup to the streams down your cheeks but you still let yourself indulge in the pent-up frustration over your lack of trust for the boy who is holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the whole world.

“If our friendship is going to end and you'll never look my way ever again, then at least please let me hold you a little bit longer.”

You wish you could at least have enough strength to throw some punches on his chest but you’re breathless in both the way your throat begs for air and in the way Sunwoo nudges the tip of his nose to a sensitive part of your neck. The same area grows colder without any effort and it takes you less than a second to realise that Sunwoo is crying himself.

“Why are you crying?” You ask as best as you can through your tears.

“Because you’re crying.” He simply answers. “It hurts me that you’ve gone through so much.” Sunwoo’s lips shudder, taking in small breaths himself. “But I’m really proud of you.”

“You say that all the time.”

Sunwoo chuckles, acknowledging the times he did say it. “And I’ll never get tired of saying it.”

Cupid relaxes his shoulders when you both slightly pull away, tender eyes looking upon each other with a wide grin appearing on you both but he could tell you both are trying your best to not look away, wanting to live in the love that the other shared in the moment. He was about to flap his wings, thinking that it was enough eavesdropping for today but you quickly pressed a light pucker to Sunwoo’s left cheek. Then to his right. Then to his philtrum. He couldn’t help but cover his eyes at your daring act but what made him push back further to the corner of the room to give you space were your words.

“Cross the line, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo grips your waist, groaning against your lips and he’s momentarily still until you swipe the crease forming on his forehead and whisper a variation of assuring words. That’s all it takes for Sunwoo to finally close the gap between you both. It’s no longer a metre, sixty or thirty centimetres, not with the way his hands roam all over your body, needing more confirmation that you’re the one kissing him. His hands slide from your waist, gently to cup both of your bottoms, pushing you up closer to him. It elicits a soft gasp from you but Sunwoo pulls on your bottom lip to connect you back to him. Your dazed eyes met his dark ones and he took this time to swipe his wet muscle across the teeth mark to soothe the pain.

Feverish for affection, your zooms towards his lips once more, locking the plumper ones between yours before pulling away with a soft hum and engulfing the other one to give it the same amount of love. Sunwoo’s heart melts at the way you lightly tug on his scalp, the other hand sliding down along his nape and resting your palm on his collarbone. What makes him crazy is the vertical swipes that you give on his defined collarbones. He parts the kiss, pushing himself off the edge of the table and lifts you there, trapping your body with his palm on either side of your body.

“Bubs.”

“You okay?”

“More than okay.” Sunwoo chuckles, devouring your lips once more. “Can I kiss you somewhere else?” As soon as the confirmation is given, a warm hand wraps on the back of your neck and Sunwoo starts to alternate the pressure from his open mouth on the side of your neck, starting to mark you his.

The black strands of his hair swallow every part of your gripping hold on him but he smirks against your skin with the little pretty sounds dripping from your lips.

“S-Sunwoo.” Realising now that he’s painting you on a visible area. “My mum and brother are going to see.”

It’s not that you’re embarrassed by him—never him—you’re just shy at the new colour that he places on you, completely unfazed by what others think.

Possessive Kim Sunwoo—you could live with that.

“Can I pull the hoodie down a bit then?” Sunwoo pants against your skin, rough and slightly out of breath. “Only if you want it.” And he made sure you’re comfortable with whatever it’s going to be with how he wipes the forming sweat on your upper spine.

You spent what it feels like a minute holding his gaze to you. “I trust you.”

And he’s back to creating a masterpiece on your skin. Three of his fingers hook on the neckline and expose the body part that he wants to place his hungry lips on next. He watches the way your collarbones become more visible when you deeply inhale and he waits for your next breath patiently. When it does come, you slightly throw your head back at the pleasure of his soft nimbles. Sunwoo didn’t even want to spend a second away from you, his hand pushing on your lower back to press him up against you more. Your mewls are what motivate him more, pushing him just a bit more to finish the work in progress that he has in his head, pivoting his lower lip to a different angle and pressing the final press on you.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you held and Sunwoo frowns at the way you limp your upper body onto him, arms around his shoulder for support.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to do it that hard.”

Your hair ruffles against his when you shake your head. “Don’t be, I enjoyed it.”

Again, the room is filled with light chuckles once more, your dangling legs kicking the air at the shared moment together. Slowly but surely, the sweat evaporates from your face but your blush is still very evident. But before you become too shy and run away once again, you respond to his words that made you both cry in each other’s safety.

“I love you too, Kim Sunwoo.” Sunwoo’s hand that has been running up and down your back stops, wondering if he heard the right words. You turn to the vein on his neck, kissing along the line until the shell of his ear. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Sunwoo’s heart combusted at that and he only buries his heating face into your shoulder, making you giggle even more. His whole body is on cloud nine and he’s truly the luckiest person in the world to receive such words from you.

“I want to look at you.” He says before pulling away once more, hands planted next to your thighs once more.

Sunwoo’s slender fingers tucked your strands behind your ears, squishing your cheeks in between and said a relay of sweet nothings. Even though his eye smile is mostly on you, occasional glances were being stolen somewhere else. Knowingly, your finger pulls the cloth down and you watch the shift of mischievousness start to leave.

“Is it pretty?”

The adjective is an understatement. Of course, he wanted to say ‘yes’ because it’s his art that he’s proud of. He's the one who put the distinct heart shape there, his teeth mark slowly fading on the tip of the heart where he pivoted before and the remnants of him still slightly shine on your skin thanks to the overhanging light.

“You’re prettier.” Quickly stealing a peck from your lips to silence your shy complaints. “Be mine?”

“Valentine’s Day passed, Woo.”

“Be mine for life then.”

Oh, Kim Sunwoo really does have a way with his words.

“Plus, I’m glad that we didn’t become official yesterday.” Shrugging when you tilt your head, still with that cute smile of yours. “Now we don’t have to spend our Anniversary and Valentine’s Day on the same day. More mandatory days to spend with you.”

A light shove on his chest is what you respond with but your other hand already had a grip on the lower hem of his shirt. Sunwoo almost stumbled when you pulled him back, enveloping your lips with his.

“Thank you for never giving up on me,” Hands cradling your jaw, yours doing the same and you make sure your feelings are known, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

Guess Cupid changed his arrow’s trajectory much to Sunwoo’s content.

Or maybe, it’s not really his doing after all.

Truth is, Cupid never shot an arrow in Kim Sunwoo’s way.

In reality, Cupid actually shot his chance to Na Jaemin and him only—but even he has made a wrong guess. The trust and hope that you and Sunwoo share are unmatched compared to the lovesick eyes that he has matched people with.

“A love that’s greater than my powers…” Though defeated and his self-confidence took a bit of a downfall, how truly upset can he be when he sees you and Sunwoo just embracing each other, body to body, close and loving each other just the way you both are?

He’s glad of his decision to shoot that second arrow to the other boy after you both fell asleep last night.

“Now that’s a mistake that I can live with.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 'especially to you...' tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿@heemingyu @cupidjyu

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YO GUYS I CHIPPED MY NAIL 😭💔💔💔

please make sure to support and reblog!

2023 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE event recap

note from admin duckie: so proud and excited to present this past season's exchange fics!! our participating members worked super hard on these, so make sure you show them the love they deserve and to reblog as always <3

affogato tell yuu smth ☆ lee juyeon

— from: @astrae4, to: @/invuwrld

plot twist ☆ kim sunwoo

— from: @sohnric, to: @/kimsohn

here's much to do with hate, but more with love ☆ lee sangyeon, lee hyunjae

— from: @zzoguri, to: @/daisyvisions

this christmas ☆ jacob bae

— from: @deobienthusiast, to: @/snowflakewhispers

be the one ☆ eric sohn

— from: @heemingyu, to: @/deobienthusiast

waiting for our storms to pass ☆ kim sunwoo

— from: @snowflakewhispers, to: @/from-izzy

a new beginning with you ☆ lee juyeon

— from: @winterchimez, to: @/cloverdaisies

the warmest winter ☆ choi chanhee

— from: @from-izzy, to: @/astrae4

unspoken words ☆ lee sangyeon, lee hyunjae

— from: @daisyvisions, to: @/winterchimez

even if the world caves in ☆ choi chanhee

— from: @kimsohn, to: @/heemingyu

how to survive senior year ☆ eric sohn

— from: @cloverdaisies, to: @/sohnric

SYNOPSIS! Have you ever spoken to Sunghoon? No. Will you ever muster up the courage to speak to him? Probably not. But that’s not going to stop you from admiring him from afar is it? Unknowingly to you, Sunghoon has been admiring you too, will you ever talk to him? That’s for you to find out ;)

GENRE! Basketball player!hoon x artist fem!reader, collage au, strangers to lovers, Sunghoon is so down bad

CAUTION! inappropriate jokes, cursing, a little suggestive, more to be added

TAGLIST! (open) @nyfwyeonjun @sincerelyrki @woninluv @ckline35 @boyfiejay @lcv3lies @seunnimg @reallyspaghetti @nxzz-skz @jaeyunluvr @sungookie @erehkinnie30 @pkjay @laylasmother @saythenameseventeen178

STARTED! 31-01-24

COMPLETED! TBA

₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹

PROFILES: happy family || grave robbers -Yuj because she’s on a ‘social media detox’ 🤢🙅‍♀️🙅‍♂️

01 | bro

02 | TOMATO TOMATO 🍅

03 || HOW MANY NOTIFICATIONS?

04 || JUSTIN BIEBER MENTIONED 🦅

05 || GET MOGGED

06 || do you ever stfu

07 || your dog has rabies

08 || point and laugh

09 || HAPPY JUNGWON DAY

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀i follow the waves to the MASTERLIST ,

𓇼 kim jiwoong ,

bip ! you just got a text ! · text, fluff

you'll be fine · fluff, angst, comfort

𓇼 zhang hao ,

bip ! you just got a text ! · text, fluff

𓇼 sung hanbin ,

bip ! you just got a text ! · text, fluff

too perfect · fluff, angst, comfort

𓇼 seok matthew ,

bip ! you just got a text ! · text, fluff

𓇼 kim taerae ,

bip ! you just got a text ! · text, fluff

this loser · fluff

a summ(lov)er song · fluff

𓇼 shen ricky ,

bip ! you just got a text ! · text, fluff

sunlight · fluff

wrong time · angst

i missed you · fluff

wooden tower block · angst

𓇼 kim gyuvin ,

bip ! you just got a text ! · text, fluff

battery recharge · fluff

kiss it better · fluff

puppy dog eyes · fluff

all good things must come to an end · angst

start over ? · smau

𓇼 park gunwook ,

bip ! you just got a text ! · text, fluff

one bed · fluff

𓇼 han yujin ,

bip ! you just got a text ! · text, fluff

a look at you · fluff

𓇼 zerobaseone ,

zb1 reactions when you're sick · fluff

zb1 reactions when you're wearing one of their clothes · fluff

zb1 reactions when you want to do the lipstick trend · fluff, suggestive

zb1 as romantic tropes · fluff

hyung line ,

kiss me · fluff, suggestive

maknae line ,

nothing yet..