MY HEARTTTTT I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHH

MY HEARTTTTT I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHH

♫︎ FROM SCREENS TO SCENES | L.HS

IN WHICH: you decide to give online dating a shot but have never met your boyfriend in person, nor do you even know what he looks like. when your friends pressure you into finally asking him out for a real-life date, things take a surprising turn. what you expected to be a simple meetup becomes an adventure filled with unexpected twists. GENRE: fluff + crack , ᨓ , WARNING(S): pet names, kissing, cuddling, too much fluff, struggles of bringing online relationship offline, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything ┊ WORD COUNT: 12k masterlist

[RIRI’S NOTE ┈─★ I was too proud when I started to write but then towards the end I just wanted to hide because of embarrassment. I promise I'm gonna make a horror or supernatural fic for halloween since I feel like fluff is driving me crazy now TT]

taglist: @chexnluv , @iconchae, @wonwonpuffs , @sol3chu , @firstclassjaylee , @wensurr , @hoshieee , @academiq

YOU SAT CURLED UP ON THE COUCH, your phone resting comfortably in your hands, its soft glow reflecting off your smiling face. You could feel your cheeks warming as a small giggle escaped your lips, your heart fluttering as you stared down at the message thread from him. Even after two years of dating online, Heeseung still had this inexplicable effect on you—his words always managing to stir that giddy feeling in your chest. You tapped out a reply quickly, the excitement of the conversation making your fingers fly over the screen.

Just as you hit send, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, interrupting your blissful bubble. You quickly locked your phone and dropped it onto your lap, trying to appear casual, but you already knew it was too late.

“Still texting your hubby?” Semi’s voice called out from across the room, her teasing tone unmistakable. You glanced up just in time to see her strolling over with a mischievous grin, arms swinging at her sides. She plopped down next to you on the couch without hesitation, grabbing one of the throw pillows and hugging it close to her chest. The way she eyed you was almost predatory—she had caught you red-handed, and she knew it.

Before you could even muster a response, Heesoo appeared right behind her, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed, eyes gleaming with equal amusement. “Hubby, huh?” she chimed in, her voice smooth and knowing, as if the two had conspired together. She tilted her head, her brow quirking up as she let the word roll off her tongue like it was some sort of inside joke.

You could feel your face heat up instantly, a mix of embarrassment and irritation bubbling up in your chest as they watched you squirm. “He’s not my hubby,” you muttered, trying and failing to sound nonchalant, as if their teasing wasn’t getting to you. You fumbled to close your phone, clutching it tightly in your hands as if it could shield you from the embarrassment. The more you tried to act casual, the more you felt your nerves betray you—your fingers gripping the phone a little too tightly, your posture too stiff.

Semi shot you a side glance, raising her brows as if she didn’t believe a single word you just said. “Uh-huh, sure,” she drawled, her voice dripping with mock disbelief. Her lips quirked up into a sly smile as she nudged your arm, causing you to shift uncomfortably on the couch.

“Soon-to-be, then,” Heesoo added with a smirk, her voice dripping with playful confidence as she sauntered over. She stood in front of you now, hands resting casually on her hips, eyes narrowed like she was about to spill a secret you hadn’t even realized you were keeping.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. “Oh, shut up,” you mumbled under your breath, sinking deeper into the cushions as if that could somehow protect you from their relentless teasing. Your words might have sounded dismissive, but the way your lips twitched at the corners betrayed the smile you were holding back.

They weren’t wrong, after all. You had been dating Heeseung for two years now—two years of late-night texts, playful banter, and heart-fluttering moments that made you feel like a teenager all over again. And yet, as much as you adored him, there was still that small detail you couldn’t ignore: you hadn’t met him in person yet. You had never even seen a clear picture of him, not beyond a couple of blurry selfies he’d sent over the years. Sure, they looked good—he looked good—but there was always that tiny, nagging thought in the back of your mind.

“Look at her,” Semi cooed, turning her head towards Heesoo as if to share the victory of seeing you squirm. “She’s blushing.”

You scoffed, running a hand over your face to hide the growing warmth in your cheeks. “I am not,” you protested, knowing full well that you were. The way they both stared at you, amused and smug, only made it worse.

Heesoo, always the bold one, plopped herself on the coffee table directly in front of you, folding her legs beneath her as she leaned forward with that signature teasing smirk. “What’s it gonna take for you to finally meet him, huh?” she asked, voice light but laced with curiosity. “You’ve been together for two years now. Doesn’t it feel like it’s time?”

You shifted in your seat, feeling their gazes burn into you as you struggled to come up with a decent excuse. “I mean, we’ve talked about it…” you started, your voice trailing off as you tried to sound convincing. Truth be told, the idea of meeting him did excite you, but it also made your stomach twist with nerves. What if he wasn’t what you expected? What if he didn’t like you in person? Those doubts, however small, had kept you from pushing the issue.

“Oh, please,” Semi cut in with a roll of her eyes, reaching over to lightly shove your shoulder. “If you’re nervous about it, just admit it. We all know you’re totally whipped for him.”

You sighed, letting your head fall back against the couch as you stared up at the ceiling, their laughter filling the room. “Fine,” you groaned, giving in to their teasing. “Maybe I’m a little nervous, okay?”

“A little?” Semi echoed, her tone full of playful disbelief. “Girl, you’re terrified.”

Heesoo grinned, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice softening just a little, “When you two finally meet, it’s gonna be perfect. And when it happens, we better be the first ones to know, got it?”

You smiled, your heart warming at their relentless support, even if it was wrapped in teasing. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll be the first to know.”

Semi’s gaze was sharp, fixated on you as if she was about to make the most important suggestion of the century. Her brow arched, curiosity and a hint of determination flashing in her eyes. “By the way,” she began, her voice deceptively casual but filled with the weight of her endless curiosity, “why don’t you just ask him to meet up already?”

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, chin propped up by her hands, fully expecting a detailed answer. Semi wasn’t just invested in your relationship with Heeseung—no, she was very, very, very invested. In fact, ever since you mentioned Heeseung, she’d turned into your personal dating detective, always nudging you with questions and advice as if it were her own love life on the line.

You let out a small laugh, nervously shifting under her scrutiny. “Yeah… I mean, I’ve thought about it,” you mumbled, eyes darting down to your phone, the little weight of doubt creeping up on you.

Heesoo, who had been lazily sprawled out on the opposite couch, suddenly let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, her hand dramatically flopping onto her forehead like a character straight out of a soap opera. “Exactly,” she muttered, rolling her eyes for extra effect. “You're not even part of the #hatemenclub anymore, so why not?” Her voice dripped with playful sarcasm, and she shot you a sideways glance, clearly enjoying every second of her role in this drama.

The #hatemenclub. A relic from your high school days—the sacred pact you three made to never, ever fall into the trap of romance. It had been a joking sort of vow, born out of teenage cynicism and a few too many bad rom-coms. And yet, somehow, it stuck. Or at least, it stuck for them.

You, however, had found a loophole: Heeseung. The moment you told them about him, they had teased you endlessly, threatening to kick you out of the “club,” but that day never came. It became more of a running joke now, how you were the only one who had managed to “break the rules” without suffering the consequences.

“I’m still in the club, though,” you tried to defend, your voice soft as you fidgeted with the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “If we, uh, exclude Heeseung, I mean.”

Semi let out a loud snort, barely managing to stifle her laughter as she nudged you with her elbow. “Yeah, okay, if we exclude Heeseung,” she mimicked, raising her hands in air quotes before leaning back with a knowing smirk. “You’re so still in the club.”

Heesoo rolled her eyes again, this time in a way that felt almost second nature to her. She sat up straighter, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she gave you the most unimpressed look. “Oh, c’mon,” she said, her voice laced with mock exasperation. “You can’t possibly still think you’re in the #hatemenclub after dating a guy for two years.”

You sighed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as the two of them continued their relentless teasing. “I’m serious! I’ll—” you paused, feeling the weight of their teasing eyes on you, “I’ll try. I just… I need to ask him first.”

There was a nervous edge to your voice, and you knew they both picked up on it instantly. Your fingers twirled the fabric of your blanket between them, your mind racing with the thought of actually asking Heeseung to meet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet him—it was that, despite everything, the idea still made your stomach flip in a thousand knots.

Meeting him felt like the culmination of two years of virtual feelings—two years of inside jokes, late-night conversations, and building something you couldn’t quite explain. What if reality didn’t match the fantasy?

Semi’s eyes softened for a moment as she watched your nervous fidgeting, though her playful smirk never fully disappeared. “You’ve got this,” she said, her tone light but encouraging, as if this was some grand mission you had to complete. “Just ask him! What’s the worst that could happen?”

You glanced up at her, catching the sparkle of sincerity hidden beneath her teasing. It was rare for Semi to offer advice without an accompanying joke, and you appreciated it more than you’d ever admit out loud.

Heesoo, meanwhile, wasn’t about to let up that easily. She scooted closer, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees, her face now mere inches from yours. “Exactly,” she added, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “And when he says yes—and we all know he will—we get to hear all the juicy details first. Don’t even think about hiding anything.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head as you playfully shoved her away. “I’m not hiding anything!” you protested, your voice coming out more defensively than you intended.

“Mm-hmm,” Heesoo hummed, raising an eyebrow as if to say she didn’t quite believe you. “We’ll see about that.”

The banter continued, filling the room with laughter and lighthearted teasing as you tried, and failed, to convince them you were still a proud member of the #hatemenclub. But deep down, as you glanced at your phone and reread Heeseung’s latest message, the butterflies stirred again. Maybe it was time to take that next step. Maybe… just maybe, they were right.

For now, you could enjoy the moment—surrounded by the warmth of your best friends and the soft glow of your phone, where Heeseung’s name sat waiting.

THE DAY HAD FINALLY COME, and your heart was racing with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. You had spent hours preparing, trying to make sure you looked as pretty as possible. Not too much makeup, but just enough to give you a soft, girly look. Your outfit was carefully chosen, a delicate dress that gave off casual yet charming vibes. You didn’t want to overwhelm him, but you also didn’t want to underwhelm, either.

As you approached the small restaurant you had both agreed on, you paused outside the door for a moment, taking a deep breath. The place was cozy, not too fancy, which was perfect since you didn’t want to feel out of place. The fact that it wasn’t crowded was a relief, too—no need for unnecessary pressure.

You opened your phone, fingers shaking slightly as you typed out the message, “Baby, I arrived. Where are you?”

Not even a minute later, the reply popped up on your screen, and you smiled. He’s here.

“I’m wearing a blue shirt, it’s the seat in the corner.”

Your heart did a little flip as you looked around the restaurant, scanning for that blue shirt. And then you saw him, sitting by himself in the far corner of the room, casually leaning back in his chair, glancing at his phone. Excitement bubbled up inside you as you approached, trying to calm the butterflies swirling in your stomach. But something felt off as you got closer. His face—it didn’t quite match the picture.

Sure, the picture he sent had been blurry, but this guy… he looked different. More handsome, yes, but different. You hesitated, standing awkwardly near the table for a second, your mind spinning with doubts. Was this really him?

“Umm... you’re Heeseung, right?” you asked, your voice sounding more timid than you’d hoped. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the feeling gnawed at you.

The guy glanced up from his phone, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, you must be Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth and confident. There was no hint of hesitation in his tone, as if he hadn’t noticed your uncertainty at all.

You felt a small pit of confusion in your stomach. The voice matched. The name matched. But his face... why did he look so different from what you imagined? You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been catfished—by a ridiculously handsome guy, no less. It didn’t make sense, but the thought was there, lurking in the back of your mind.

You opened your mouth to ask about the photo, to try and figure out the discrepancy, but he cut you off before you could even get the words out. “Can we order first?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes flickering toward the menu on the table.

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden shift in conversation. “Uhh… sure,” you muttered, feeling slightly deflated. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to put the awkwardness on hold, but the unease in your chest lingered. He hadn’t even addressed the fact that he looked so different from the picture. Why was he avoiding it?

You glanced down at the menu, but your mind wasn’t really on food. Instead, your eyes kept flickering back to him. His messy hair, styled just enough to look effortlessly good, caught your attention. His features were sharp, his jawline defined. He had this boyish charm about him that made you want to melt right there in the chair.

He’s so much more handsome in person, you thought to yourself, almost feeling embarrassed at the realization. But that made everything more confusing. Why wouldn’t he just send a proper picture? It didn’t add up.

Heeseung glanced up from his own menu, catching your gaze, and you quickly looked away, feeling a flush of heat rush to your cheeks. It was like being thrown back into the early days of your online relationship, back when every text from him made your heart race. Except now, you were sitting across from him, and it felt… real.

Too real.

But the unease was still there. You fiddled with the edge of the napkin in your lap, trying to figure out how to ask the question without sounding paranoid. Your mind raced through a dozen different possibilities. Old photo? Bad camera quality?

“So... about that picture you sent,” you finally managed to say, your voice soft, testing the waters. You lifted your gaze to meet his again, trying to keep your expression neutral.

Heeseung looked at you for a moment, his eyes studying your face, but before you could get any further, he leaned back in his chair with a casual smile. “Yeah, I know, the picture wasn’t the best,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair in that effortless way guys always do. “I’m not great with selfies.”

The way he said it made you pause. He didn’t seem fazed at all by your question, almost as if he expected it. His easygoing demeanor threw you off, and for a moment, you felt silly for even doubting him. Maybe you were overthinking it.

“Ahh,” you nodded slowly, trying to hide the relief creeping in. “I guess that makes sense.”

He gave you a smile, and suddenly, the awkwardness started to melt away. It wasn’t perfect, not yet, but the butterflies in your stomach shifted from nervous to something lighter. You glanced down at the menu again, pretending to be interested in the food, but your mind was still buzzing with thoughts of him—this real, handsome Heeseung sitting in front of you.

As the waiter approached to take your orders, you couldn’t help but sneak another glance at him. His hair, the way it fell just slightly over his forehead, his relaxed posture, the way his fingers tapped idly against the table. You felt a tiny smile tug at your lips. Maybe it wasn’t exactly how you imagined it, but something about this moment—awkward and all—felt right.

And the butterflies? Well, they were still there. But now, they were dancing a little differently.

As you stared down at the menu, the words began to blur together. The pressure of the moment was getting to you, and suddenly, nothing made sense. You hadn’t expected to freeze like this—after all, how hard could it be to choose something off a menu? But the truth was, this was your first time at the restaurant, and the foreign names of the dishes only added to your mounting anxiety.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as the waiter approached your table, notepad in hand. Your heart began to race, and the butterflies, which had been fluttering harmlessly before, now felt like a storm of nerves. What if I order the wrong thing? What if he thinks I’m weird?

Just as you were about to blurt out something—anything—your panic was cut short by the gentle sensation of a hand grasping yours. You blinked in surprise, eyes widening as you looked up from the menu to see Heeseung’s hand resting over yours on the table, his fingers curling lightly around yours. The warmth of his touch sent a calming wave through you, as if he could feel your nervousness and knew exactly how to soothe it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in the most subtle, comforting way. You couldn’t help but feel your pulse slow down just a little, the chaos inside you quieting as he gave you a small, understanding smile. It was the kind of smile that said, I’ve got you.

He let out a soft sigh, as if he knew this was overwhelming for you, and then, without skipping a beat, he turned to the waiter. “We’ll have the grilled salmon for her,” he said confidently, his tone polite but decisive. “And I’ll take the steak, medium rare, please.”

The way he ordered without hesitation, without even needing to ask what you wanted, left you absolutely stunned. You couldn’t help but stare at him for a second, your mind racing to catch up. It took a moment for it to sink in—he had remembered. He had remembered what you liked, something you had mentioned casually during one of your countless late-night conversations online. Something so small, so fleeting, and yet, here he was, recalling it with such ease as if it had always been on his mind.

As the waiter walked away, you were left speechless, the butterflies in your stomach doing somersaults now for an entirely different reason. You hadn’t just lucked out with a handsome guy—you had hit the jackpot.

Sitting across from you was the same Heeseung you’d spent the last two years talking to, laughing with, dreaming about. Only now, he was real, and somehow, better than you had imagined. The boy you’d only known through texts and blurry pictures was suddenly flesh and blood, and he was everything—handsome, cute, charming, thoughtful—and all yours.

“Did you really just… remember that?” you asked softly, still a bit in awe, your hand still tingling from his touch. You tried to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but it was impossible. The butterflies had taken over now, and all you could feel was that giddy, almost dizzying sense of affection.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, shrugging slightly but with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Of course. It’s not like you ever shut up about how much you love salmon,” he teased, his voice light and playful. He smirked a little, clearly enjoying the fact that he’d surprised you.

You felt a laugh bubble up from your chest, shaking your head at how effortlessly he put you at ease. “Well… maybe I mentioned it once or twice,” you admitted, a playful edge creeping into your voice.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside of your little bubble seemed to disappear. The way he was looking at you—like he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had—made your heart race all over again. It was as if everything you had built over the last two years was now culminating in this one perfect evening.

Before you could lose yourself entirely in the moment, the waiter reappeared, placing your plates down in front of you. The delicious aroma of the food filled the air, but your attention was still on Heeseung. Even as the waiter left, you barely glanced at your food, too caught up in the way he smiled at you across the table.

He picked up his fork, but before he dug into his steak, he gave you a knowing look. “You’re still staring at me,” he pointed out with a chuckle, his voice dripping with that teasing affection that made your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, flustered, quickly picking up your own fork to hide the fact that, yes, you had been completely lost in thought. “I’m not staring!” you protested, though the blush on your cheeks probably gave you away. You poked at your salmon, trying to focus, but your thoughts were still a mess of emotions—excitement, disbelief, and that growing sense of affection that felt even stronger now that he was here, in front of you.

Heeseung laughed softly, shaking his head. “Sure, sure,” he said, clearly not believing you. “But, you know, I kind of like it.” He shot you a wink, and just like that, the butterflies were back in full force, making your heart do flips all over again.

THE DOOR TO YOUR SHARED ROOM HADN'T EVEN FULLY CLOSED BEHIND YOU WHEN, Semi popped out from behind her desk like a rabbit springing from its burrow. Her eyes were wide with excitement, her whole body practically vibrating with curiosity. You should’ve expected it—Semi was never one to wait for gossip, especially when it concerned something as juicy as your first offline date with Heeseung.

“So, so, so—how did it go?” she asked, her voice pitched high with enthusiasm as she bounced on her toes. It was like she’d been holding in all her questions for hours, just waiting for you to walk through that door. You hadn’t even had a chance to put your bag down before she was in front of you, blocking your path, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

With a sigh, you dropped onto your bed, letting the soft mattress swallow you up for a second. “We talked and ate,” you muttered, trying to play it cool. The truth was, the date had left your heart in shambles, but you weren’t ready to share every detail just yet. You needed a moment to process it all, to figure out how you felt now that the boy you’d been dating for two years online had finally become more than just a name on your phone.

Semi, however, wasn’t about to let you off that easily. She let out an exaggerated scoff, folding her arms over her chest as she stared down at you, her brows raised in disbelief. “Only that? No kisses? No hugs? Nothing?” Her tone was mockingly disappointed, and she threw her hands up in the air as if you had committed the gravest sin by not locking lips with him. “I expected more from you, Y/N!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “It was our first time meeting offline,” you said, your voice defensive as you sat up slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Give me a break. We needed to, you know, talk like normal people first.”

But Semi wasn’t buying it. She huffed, plopping down beside you on the bed with a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, but you’ve literally been dating for two years,” she stressed, leaning in closer with that signature mischievous grin of hers. “You’d think you two would’ve been all over each other by now!”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at her words. She wasn’t exactly wrong, but still—it was overwhelming enough to finally see Heeseung in person, to hear his voice without the filter of a screen between you. The thought of doing anything more intimate, in public no less, felt like it would’ve sent your nervous system into a complete shutdown.

“Heeseung's not… he’s not like that,” you muttered, brushing a hand through your hair as you tried to deflect. But Semi, ever persistent, was already on to her next question.

“So, was he cute though?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows with a teasing smile. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she poked your arm, clearly enjoying how flustered you were becoming. She knew you too well—knew exactly how to get under your skin.

You cleared your throat, trying to muster up a calm, composed response. “He looked…” You trailed off, unsure of how to put into words just how ridiculously handsome he had been. The way his messy hair framed his face, the effortless confidence in the way he carried himself, the warmth in his eyes that had made your heart race all over again—it was almost too much to describe.

But before you could finish, Semi leaned in even closer, practically vibrating with excitement. “He looked what?” she teased, her voice dragging out the question. “Handsome? Gorgeous? Like a total heartthrob?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Okay, fine!” you finally relented, your voice muffled through your palms. “He’s really handsome, okay? Like… ridiculously handsome. But—” You lifted your head to glare playfully at her. “Don’t make me sound like I’m simping for him.”

Semi let out a loud, satisfied laugh, clapping her hands together as if she had won some unspoken game. “Oh my God,” she giggled, leaning back onto her elbows with a grin so wide it practically lit up the room. “You totally are simping for him! Admit it, Y/N!”

You felt a flood of butterflies at her words. Maybe she was right. Maybe you were simping a little. But could you really blame yourself? You’d spent two years falling for Heeseung’s charm through a screen, and now that you’d finally met him in person, it felt like all of those feelings were amplified tenfold.

Still, you weren’t about to let Semi get the last word. With a playful roll of your eyes, you grabbed one of your pillows and lightly swatted her with it. “Alright, alright, enough!” you said, trying to suppress your own laughter. “Yes, he’s cute. Yes, I like him. Happy now?”

Semi dodged the pillow with a laugh, her eyes twinkling as she stood up from the bed and made her way back to her desk. “Oh, I’m more than happy,” she said, smirking as she glanced over her shoulder at you. “But the real question is—when are you gonna kiss him?”

Your eyes widened, and you immediately threw the pillow at her again, missing by a mile. “Semi!”

She cackled, her laughter filling the room as you both dissolved into fits of giggles. And even as you buried your face in your hands again, cheeks burning with embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, a little more excited about what was to come.

But then, your phone buzzed in your hand. The screen lit up with Heeseung’s name, and immediately, a surge of excitement and nervousness hit you like a wave. Your heart skipped a beat, but then you froze. Semi was still there, and you knew her well enough to know that she would pounce on any opportunity to tease you mercilessly if she saw Heeseung’s name on your phone.

You glanced at her, quickly assessing your options. The playful glint in her eyes already hinted that she was curious. There was no way you'd have a peaceful conversation with him if she was around.

With a sigh, you shot her a glance. “I’ll go take this call,” you said, casually waving your phone as if it were nothing. “It must be a job offer.”

The lie came out so smoothly that even you were shocked by how easily it slipped off your tongue. Semi didn’t question it either, though she narrowed her eyes suspiciously for a second before shrugging and turning her attention back to her phone.

Relieved, you swiftly exited the room, pulling the door behind you as quietly as possible to ensure she wouldn’t follow. Once out of the room, you made your way down the hallway, trying to find a quiet spot where you could talk to him in peace. With one last look over your shoulder to confirm you weren’t being spied on, you finally pressed the phone to your ear.

“H-hello?” you stammered slightly, your voice a bit softer than usual. The weight of knowing what he looked like in person now—it made this whole conversation feel different, heavier, in a way that made your heart race.

“Hey,” Heeseung’s familiar voice greeted you from the other end, and the sound immediately sent a rush of warmth through your chest. “You home?”

You hesitated for a second, quickly glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “J-just reached,” you finally responded, trying to keep your voice steady, though the nervousness crept into your tone. Now that you knew what he looked like—his real face, the way his smile tugged at the corners of his lips—it was harder to keep your composure.

There was a brief pause on the other end. “What about you?” you asked, attempting to regain some control over your fluttering heart.

“I reached too,” he said simply, though the awkwardness in his voice was undeniable. It wasn’t the same as it had been before you’d met him. Something had shifted. Maybe this was how online couples felt after meeting for the first time—unsure of how to navigate the new dynamic, the new reality of knowing the person behind the screen in a way you hadn’t before.

You leaned against the cool wall in the hallway, running a hand through your hair as you tried to figure out what to say next. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions—Did you have fun? Did I make a good impression? Will we meet again? But none of those questions made it past your lips.

Instead, you both lingered in the silence, the awkwardness palpable but not entirely uncomfortable. It was almost endearing in a way, knowing that you both felt the same jittery nerves after your first offline date.

“So, um… are we gonna keep doing this?” you finally asked, your voice quiet, but the question was bold enough to fill the space between you. “Meeting up offline, I mean?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice when he responded. “I hope so,” he said, his tone soft but filled with sincerity. “I liked seeing you in person.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you smiled to yourself, feeling the butterflies you thought had calmed down stir up again. The simple statement carried so much more weight now that you had shared a meal together, exchanged shy glances, and actually existed in the same space, side by side.

“Me too,” you whispered, almost as if admitting it out loud would somehow make the moment more real. And in that moment, as awkward as it was, you couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something new—something that stretched beyond the screen, into the real world where you both could truly be together.

The silence returned, but this time, it was softer, more comfortable, as if the awkwardness had melted away, leaving behind a warmth that lingered long after the call would end.

“I guess… I’ll talk to you later?” you said after a beat, your voice lighter now, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But not too much later, okay?”

You laughed softly, feeling the last bit of tension slip away. “Not too much later,” you promised, before finally hanging up, the warmth of his voice still lingering in your chest as you walked back to your room.

The moment you stepped back into the room, Semi was there, perched on her bed, looking like she had been waiting for this exact moment. Her arms were crossed, and that mischievous grin was unmistakable—she wasn’t buying your ‘job offer’ story for a second.

“So…” she dragged the word out, her eyes narrowing playfully as you tried your best to keep a straight face. “Was that really a job offer?”

You sighed, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you tried to avoid eye contact. "Yeah, sure, let's call it that," you muttered, slipping your phone into your pocket as you moved towards your bed, hoping she'd let it go. But you knew better—Semi was never one to back off when there was potential for gossip, especially when it involved your love life.

She let out a dramatic scoff. “Come on, you can’t fool me. You were talking to Heeseung, weren’t you?” She jumped up from her bed, practically bouncing over to you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Tell me everything—what did he say? Did he ask to meet up again? Were you blushing the entire time like you are now?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as you felt the heat in your cheeks deepen. “It wasn’t anything special, okay?” you mumbled through your hands, though you knew your attempt to downplay the call wouldn’t work. “We just… talked about getting home, that’s all.”

Semi was relentless, of course. “Uh-huh, sure,” she teased, pulling your hands away from your face so she could get a proper look at you. “You’re totally hiding something. I can see it! You’ve got that weird ‘I just talked to my crush’ glow. Did he say something cute? Oh my god, he did, didn’t he?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how easily she read you, and finally, you gave in, sitting down on your bed with a defeated sigh. “Fine, fine. He was sweet, okay? It was just a normal conversation, but it felt… I don’t know. Different now, I guess?”

Semi raised an eyebrow, sitting beside you with her full attention. “Different how?” she asked, her voice softer now, less teasing and more curious.

“Well,” you began, thinking back to the way Heeseung’s voice had sounded over the phone, a mix of awkwardness and warmth. “It’s just… after seeing him in person, everything feels a little more real, you know? Like, all this time we’ve been talking online, but now it’s not just a screen between us anymore. I’ve actually met him, and it’s… weird but in a good way?”

Semi grinned. “So, you’re saying you’re falling even harder for him now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “I mean, he’s really cute in person,” you admitted, your heart fluttering just at the thought of how Heeseung had looked when you met. “And he remembered what I liked to eat, which was unexpected and kind of… sweet.”

Semi gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if she were swooning. “He remembered your favorite food? Oh, girl, you’ve hit the jackpot!” She nudged you playfully, her excitement infectious. “What’s next, huh? When’s your next date? Are we already planning the wedding?”

You laughed, shoving her lightly. “Calm down! We haven’t even planned a second date yet.”

“But you will,” she said, her grin widening as if she were already planning everything out in her head. “I mean, how could you not? You’ve been talking to this guy for two years, and now that you’ve met in person, the sparks are basically flying!”

You blushed again, but this time, it wasn’t just because of the teasing. Semi wasn’t wrong. Something had shifted, and the idea of seeing Heeseung again now that you’d met face-to-face made your heart race in the best way possible.

“Well, I don’t know,” you said softly, feeling a bit shy as you thought about it. “I guess we’ll see what happens. But yeah… I think I’d like to see him again.”

Semi squealed, throwing her arms around you in a sudden hug. “Yay! I’m so happy for you! My best friend is getting married!”

“Stop!” you protested, laughing as you wriggled out of her embrace. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet,” she echoed, wagging her eyebrows at you. “But soon, I bet.”

YOU STOOD AT THE ENTRANCE OF HEESEUNG'S APARTMENT, clutching the bouquet of flowers nervously. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and a million thoughts rushed through your head. Was this really a good idea? Going to a guy’s place you had only met offline once? What if he turned out to be… well, something out of a true crime story? Your mind raced with irrational fears, imagining worst-case scenarios, but then you shook your head.

No, it’s Heeseung, you reminded yourself. The same guy you’d been talking to for two years. The guy who remembered your favorite food and texted you goodnight religiously. You weren’t going to let a silly rush of nerves ruin this. Besides, wasn’t this the next step? Taking things from the screen to real life?

Taking a deep breath, you pressed the button for his apartment number. A small buzz rang through, followed by a few agonizing moments of silence until you heard footsteps approaching from the other side. When the door finally swung open, you were greeted with the sight of Heeseung, looking as relaxed as ever. He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and shorts, the definition of casual, but somehow he still looked like he had stepped straight out of a magazine photoshoot.

You blinked for a second, momentarily stunned. When did you become such a simp?

“Come in, please,” Heeseung’s voice broke through your thoughts. His smile was warm and welcoming, and before you could even process what was happening, he was taking the bouquet from your hands.

“Crap—wait, I mean—this is for you!” you stammered, awkwardly snatching the flowers back only to hand them to him again. The exchange was so clumsy that you both burst into laughter, the tension easing ever so slightly.

"You really didn’t have to," he said softly, holding the flowers as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

“I did have to,” you insisted, your voice sheepish. “It’s my first time here. Showing up empty-handed just felt… wrong.”

Heeseung chuckled at your seriousness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned down and pinched your cheeks lightly. “You sound just like you do online,” he teased, flashing that signature smile that made your heart race.

“Hey, quit it,” you protested weakly, swatting his hand away, but the blush creeping up your neck betrayed you. You were still getting used to seeing him in person, but that didn’t stop the familiar warmth from spreading through your chest at his touch.

The two of you stood there, just outside his apartment, for what felt like longer than necessary. It wasn’t until Heeseung cleared his throat that you realized you were still blocking the doorway.

“Right, shoes off,” you mumbled to yourself, quickly stepping out of your sneakers as you followed him inside. His apartment was small but cozy, with a lived-in feel that made you instantly relax. You noticed a few potted plants by the window, a couple of books scattered across the coffee table, and a faint scent of something familiar—ramen?—lingering in the air.

You perched yourself on his couch, feeling a little too aware of your movements as you sat down. The cushions were soft, and the space felt intimate. Your eyes darted around the room, trying to focus on anything but your own nerves. From the corner of your eye, you could see Heeseung moving about in the kitchen, preparing something.

After a few minutes, he returned with two steaming bowls of ramen, setting them down on the table in front of you. "Sorry, I didn’t have time to prepare anything fancy,” he apologized, scratching the back of his neck with an awkward smile. “Hope this is okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your chest unraveling at how normal it all felt. “Are you kidding? This is perfect,” you reassured him, reaching for the chopsticks. “Nothing beats instant ramen, especially when you’re too lazy to cook.”

Heeseung laughed along with you, sitting down next to you on the couch. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but not so close that it felt overwhelming. It was nice. Comfortable. Almost like the two of you had done this a hundred times before.

He turned on a movie—some romantic comedy you’d both agreed on—and as the opening credits rolled, you found yourself stealing glances at him. The way he absentmindedly blew on his ramen before taking a bite, his brow furrowed in concentration like it was the most important task in the world. He was so focused, so natural, and it made you smile without even realizing it.

But when you dared to look over again, you caught him doing the same—his eyes already on you. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, chopsticks hovering in mid-air, before quickly looking away, your cheeks burning.

You could hear him chuckle softly beside you, and that only made you blush harder. It was awkward, but in the most endearing way. You were both adjusting to this new reality, trying to navigate the uncharted waters of an offline relationship.

The movie played in the background, but neither of you paid much attention to it. The real entertainment was the silent communication happening between the two of you—the subtle glances, the shy smiles, the way your knees brushed against each other accidentally, and how neither of you moved away afterward.

You took another bite of ramen, trying to focus on the noodles instead of the fluttering in your stomach, but it was impossible to ignore how close Heeseung was. Every time he shifted slightly or laughed at something in the movie, your heart skipped a beat.

Halfway through the movie, you found yourself glancing at him again—only this time, you caught him looking at you too. This time, instead of looking away, you both just… stayed like that. His eyes softened, and for a brief moment, the world outside of this small, cozy apartment disappeared.

It was just you and him, sharing an awkward, silly, but undeniably romantic second date in the simplest way possible. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this content, this happy. And as Heeseung’s lips curled into a small smile, you couldn’t help but think that this—this quiet, unspoken connection—was worth every bit of awkwardness.

Maybe this offline thing wasn’t so bad after all.

But then you were proven wrong yet again as a sharp sting of the hot ramen hitting your skin made you gasp as you shot up from your seat, dropping the cup back onto the table. “Ow…” you winced, instinctively pulling at your shirt where the soup had splashed. The yellow-ish broth stained your top instantly, spreading in a not-so-fashionable blotch across your chest. Your heart sank.

Before you could even process the situation, Heeseung had already grabbed a glass of water from the table and, in a flash, poured it over the stained area, dousing you in the process.

You froze, eyes wide in disbelief as the cold water seeped through your shirt. “What… what are you doing?” you squeaked, half laughing, half mortified.

“I—I thought it would help cool it down!" Heeseung stammered, his eyes wide with genuine panic, clearly unsure if he'd done the right thing. “Are you okay? Did it burn you badly?”

You blinked a few times, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. The date had gone from mildly awkward to full-blown disaster in a matter of seconds. "I’m fine... just soaked." You looked down at the mess of ramen and water now pooled on the floor and clinging to your ruined shirt. Embarrassment surged through you like a wave.

"I'm so sorry," you mumbled, your voice small as you glanced up at him, your cheeks burning.

Heeseung, however, didn’t seem fazed at all by the chaos. In fact, a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “No, no, don’t be. It’s not your fault. It happens. We’re good.”

You bit your lip, still feeling like a complete klutz. “But... I ruined the date.”

Heeseung stepped closer, gently placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “Hey, it’s just ramen. I’m not mad. Accidents happen. Besides," he added, his lips curling into a playful smile, "it’s kinda memorable, don’t you think?”

You let out a nervous laugh, but the tight knot of embarrassment in your stomach refused to ease. “Yeah, memorable as in me looking like a complete mess.”

His eyes softened as he squeezed your hand. “You don’t look like a mess. But… you should probably change. It must be super uncomfortable.” He winced, eyeing your soaked shirt.

You glanced down at your shirt, the bright orange stain glaring back at you, and let out a resigned sigh. “Yeah… this isn't exactly ideal.”

“Wait here. I’ll grab you something,” Heeseung said before quickly heading toward his bedroom. He disappeared for a moment, rummaging around, and you stood awkwardly, trying not to feel like a complete fool. The entire scene played in your head on repeat. Could this date have gone any worse? First, the awkwardness of meeting offline, now this?

Heeseung returned, holding out a neatly folded oversized t-shirt. “Here, it might be a little big, but it’ll be more comfortable than a wet, ramen-soaked top.”

You hesitated, looking between him and the shirt. It felt weird to wear his clothes, but then again, what choice did you have? You took it from him with a shy smile. “Thanks…”

“Bathroom’s that way,” he gestured toward the hallway, scratching the back of his neck. “Take your time.”

You nodded and walked toward the bathroom, feeling a bit self-conscious as you clutched the t-shirt to your chest. Once inside, you peeled off your wet shirt, the smell of ramen clinging to the fabric. You sighed, staring at yourself in the mirror for a moment. How had you managed to turn such a simple date into a complete disaster?

Pulling Heeseung’s oversized t-shirt over your head, you were surprised at how soft and comfortable it was. It smelled faintly like him—clean and warm, with a hint of cologne. You couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in your chest at the thought of wearing his clothes. It was oddly intimate.

You took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, stepping out into the living room where Heeseung was waiting. As soon as he saw you, his eyes widened, and a deep blush crept up his neck to his cheeks.

“What? Is it bad?” you asked, feeling your face heat up under his gaze.

Heeseung shook his head quickly, though he seemed a little lost for words. “No, no... you look... you look really cute,” he mumbled, his voice dropping a notch as he rubbed the back of his neck again. The sight of you in his oversized t-shirt had clearly caught him off guard.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. “Oh…” was all you managed to say, feeling a mix of embarrassment and something else—something warm that spread from your chest to your cheeks.

“Sorry, I mean, I didn’t expect—uh—anyway, you’re good, right?” Heeseung cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject to save both of you from further awkwardness.

You nodded, tugging at the hem of the t-shirt. “Yeah, this is… way better, thank you.” You paused, biting your lip before adding, “Sorry again for ruining the date.”

Heeseung shook his head, stepping closer to you, his expression soft. “Y/N, you didn’t ruin anything. It’s just ramen, seriously. Besides…” He smiled, his voice growing softer, “I kind of like this. It feels real. I mean, we’ve been talking for two years, but this... this is different. It’s nice.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and suddenly, the awkwardness of the situation didn’t feel so bad anymore. You met his eyes, feeling a warmth settle between the two of you. Maybe this date wasn’t perfect, but it was real. It was messy, and awkward, and human.

And somehow, that made it feel right.

“Okay,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.”

Heeseung grinned, his dimple showing as he teased, “Besides, you still owe me another date. One without any ramen casualties.”

You laughed, feeling the tension lift. “Deal. But next time, no ramen.”

“Deal,” he repeated, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at you in his t-shirt. “But you might have to keep that shirt. It looks too good on you.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, the embarrassment was replaced by something softer, something sweeter.

“I should leave,” you muttered, letting out a heavy sigh as the reality of the night settled in.

“Already?” Heeseung asked, a hint of disappointment lacing his voice. The look on his face tugged at your heart, a mix of longing and vulnerability that made it hard to stand your ground.

“It’s getting late,” you said softly, though the truth was that you didn’t want to leave—not yet. The air between you was charged, electric with the unspoken feelings that had been simmering just beneath the surface. You hesitated at the door, your hand resting on the knob, knowing this moment was slipping away.

But just as you were about to step outside, you felt Heeseung’s warm hand gently but firmly grasp your wrist, pulling you back into the cozy space of his apartment. Your back hit the wall softly, and the breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him, surprise etched on your features.

“W-what are you…?” you stammered, your heart racing.

His expression mirrored your own, a blend of nervousness and determination. “Can we—can we kiss before you leave? It’s okay if you refuse, after all, we’ve just…”

His words faded as you nodded, the fluttering of your heart drowning out any hesitation. The tension between you felt palpable, hanging in the air like a fragile bubble ready to burst. He didn’t need another invitation; he was leaning closer, and in an instant, your lips met.

You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his hand finding its way to the back of your head, cradling you as he kissed you with an intensity that left you breathless. Your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers as you leaned into him, surrendering to the moment.

It was everything you had dreamt of—sweet, passionate, and full of an unspoken promise. His lips moved against yours, gentle yet urgent, a blend of longing and affection. The world outside faded away; it was just the two of you, lost in each other.

As he pulled away, a thin line of saliva connected your mouths, a testament to the fervor of your kiss. Your foreheads rested together, both of you gasping for breath, the intensity of the moment still lingering in the air. His arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close as if he were afraid to let go.

“You taste… sweet,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

“But we just ate spicy ramen,” you replied, a soft laugh escaping your lips, mingling with the lightness of the moment.

“True,” he conceded, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But your lips taste sweet.”

“Stop,” you muttered, the heat of embarrassment flooding your cheeks. You couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands, shyly hiding from his gaze. The reality of what had just happened washed over you, mixing exhilaration with a wave of shyness that made your heart race all over again.

Heeseung chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he urged gently, reaching out to pull your hands away from your face. His fingers brushed against your skin, a tender caress that sent shivers down your spine. “You okay?”

You nodded, a shy smile peeking through your hands as you met his eyes, the warmth of his gaze melting away your insecurities. “Yeah, just… that was unexpected.”

“Unexpected, but good, right?” Heeseung said, his voice low and sincere, a small grin lighting up his face. “Because I was definitely expecting it to be the highlight of my night.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sweetness of the moment flooding your senses. “Yeah, definitely a highlight,” you echoed softly, and the sincerity in your voice made him smile even wider.

“Then how about a second round? Before you leave?” Heeseung teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“Just making sure we make the most of the time we have,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

THE DAY YOU KNEW WAS COMING HAD FINALLY ARRIVED — Heeseung was about to meet your two best friends, Semi and Heesoo. And while Semi had been excited to finally get a face-to-face with your boyfriend, Heesoo had expressed nothing but suspicion. After all, dating online for two years and only seeing each other in person for a few months? It was enough to make her raise an eyebrow—and ask questions. Lots of questions.

You sat in a cozy corner of a bustling café, the soft hum of conversations and clinking cups providing a calming background, though it didn’t do much to ease the nervous flutter in your stomach. You stole a glance at Heeseung, sitting beside you, his posture a little too stiff as he absentmindedly traced the rim of his cup with his finger. He was trying to act cool, but you could tell he was feeling the pressure.

On the other side of the table, Semi and Heesoo sat like the unofficial board of inquiry. Semi was leaning forward with a grin that made her look like she was ready to pounce on Heeseung with curiosity, while Heesoo leaned back, arms crossed, her sharp gaze already sizing him up. It was like a scene from a movie—only this time, it was your boyfriend in the hot seat.

Semi was the first to break the ice, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she propped her chin on her hand. “Soo… Heeseung,” she began, drawing out his name playfully, “we’ve heard a lot about you. But you know how it is—we’ve gotta see for ourselves. So, first things first—what’s your love language? Is it words of affirmation? Acts of service? And—be honest—have you ever written her a love letter?”

Heeseung blinked, clearly taken off guard by the unexpected question, but a smile soon crept onto his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Love language? Uh, I’d say physical touch… and maybe quality time. But, uh, no love letters yet. I’m more of a... text message kind of guy.”

Semi’s grin widened. “Text message? Oh, come on! What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever texted her, then? Like, we’re talking Shakespearean levels of swoon-worthy.”

You stifled a laugh, burying your face in your hands as Heeseung scratched his head, looking almost bashful. “Well, I don’t know about Shakespeare… but I did once write her this really cheesy line about how her smile makes my heart race.”

Semi let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her heart as if she were swooning. “Oh my god, Heeseung! How do you even deal with all that smoothness, huh?” she teased, turning to you with a wink.

You could feel your face heat up, and you nudged her playfully. “Stop, you’re making him blush!”

But Semi wasn’t done yet. “Alright, real talk now—what’s her weirdest habit that you’ve noticed since meeting in person? Spill it, we won’t tell.”

Heeseung chuckled, his body relaxing slightly as the conversation started to take a lighter turn. “Weirdest habit? Hm… she talks in her sleep. Like, full-on conversations. The first time I heard it, I thought she was awake, but nope. Just dreaming.”

You shot Heeseung a mock glare, covering your face in embarrassment. “Heeseung!”

Semi burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “That is so cute! What does she say? Is she giving TED talks in her sleep or something?”

Heeseung laughed along, shaking his head. “I wish. Usually, it’s just random stuff about food or… her phone charger. One time she asked me if I could ‘bring her the moon,’ and I had no idea if I should answer or not.”

You groaned, hiding behind your hands. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Heeseung grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in close to you. “Because it’s adorable, that’s why.”

Before you could protest further, Heesoo, who had been quietly observing, finally cleared her throat, signaling it was her turn. She straightened in her seat, her expression more serious than Semi’s as she locked eyes with Heeseung. “Alright, enough of the cutesy stuff. Let’s get to the real questions.”

Semi rolled her eyes playfully, but Heeseung straightened up, clearly sensing that this was going to be more intense. You bit your lip, dreading whatever Heesoo was about to throw at him.

“So,” Heesoo began, her voice calm but firm, “two years of dating online. That’s a long time. How did you know she wasn’t, you know, catfishing you?”

The question hung in the air, and you shot Heesoo a look that screamed, Really? But Heeseung just laughed, easing the tension.

“Well, I mean, we sent pictures sometimes, so I was pretty sure she was real,” he said with a grin. “But, honestly, even if she was catfishing me, I’d probably still fall for her voice.”

Semi made a fake gagging sound. “Oh my god, this is too much. You guys are like a Hallmark movie come to life.”

Heesoo, however, wasn’t satisfied yet. “Okay, let’s say you two stay together and get serious. Like, really serious. How do you plan to handle long-distance, or are you gonna move closer to each other? What’s your five-year plan here?”

The intensity of the question made your heart race. You hadn’t even fully discussed long-term plans with Heeseung yet—at least not in any serious detail. But Heeseung didn’t miss a beat.

“I think long-distance isn’t something we can avoid entirely, but we’ve made it work for two years already. It’ll be challenging, but I’m willing to put in the effort. And as for moving… well, it’s something we’ll have to talk about, but I’m open to whatever’s best for both of us.”

Heesoo tilted her head, studying his answer. “So you’d move? Leave your life behind for her?”

Heeseung nodded, his gaze unwavering. “If it made sense for us and it was the best decision, yeah. I’d move. I want to make sure she’s happy, no matter where that takes us.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, and Semi sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay, Heeseung, you’re setting the bar way too high for other guys.”

But Heesoo wasn’t done yet. “Alright, one last question.” She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s your biggest flaw? And I mean a real flaw—none of that ‘I’m too caring’ nonsense.”

Heeseung paused, clearly taken aback by the directness of the question, but he didn’t shy away from it. “My biggest flaw? Hm… I’d say I tend to overthink things. Sometimes, I worry too much about doing the right thing, and it makes me second-guess myself.”

Heesoo raised an eyebrow, clearly satisfied with his honesty, and finally leaned back in her chair, her lips curling into a small, approving smile. “Alright. You’ve passed—for now.”

You exhaled in relief, finally letting go of the tension in your shoulders as the interrogation seemed to be over. Semi clapped her hands together, grinning. “Well, Heeseung, you survived! Congratulations. We’ll go easy on you next time—maybe.”

Heeseung chuckled, turning to you with a playful smile. “That wasn’t so bad. I think I can handle them.”

You smiled back, feeling your heart swell with affection. “You did great. I was kind of worried they’d scare you off.”

Heeseung leaned in closer, his voice soft and teasing. “It’ll take more than that to scare me away.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you nudged him playfully. “Stop being so smooth.”

Semi, clearly not done with teasing, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Okay, but seriously, Heeseung. Do you think you could beat her in a game of Mario Kart? That’s the real test.”

Heeseung laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, I’ve already tried. She destroyed me.”

You shrugged with a grin. “What can I say? I’m competitive.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “And that’s why I love you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt your heart skip a beat, your breath catching in your throat. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but in front of your friends, it felt different—more real, more special.

Semi let out a dramatic gasp, fanning herself. “Alright, that’s it. You two are officially too cute for me.”

Heesoo smirked, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, we’re done here. But, Heeseung, remember—if you ever hurt her, we’ll find you.”

Heeseung grinned, nodding. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

THE SOFT GLOW OF STREETLIGHTS REFLECTED OFF THE THIN LAYER OF SNOW THAT HAD BEGUN TO BLANKET THE SIDEWALKS, creating a quiet, almost magical atmosphere. It was one of those evenings where the world seemed to slow down, where time stretched out in front of you, and all that mattered was the warmth of Heeseung’s hand, firmly intertwined with yours, as the two of you walked side by side. You could feel the cold bite of the wind, but it hardly registered, not when you were this close to him, not when his presence radiated warmth.

His binnie was dusted with the tiniest specks of snowflakes, and every now and then, a flurry would land on his dark hair peeking out from underneath, adding to the charm of the moment. You stole a glance at him, your heart swelling at the sight—his cheeks flushed slightly from the cold, his breath coming out in soft puffs of condensation. He was fumbling with his keys, his brows furrowed in concentration, and the sight made you smile.

Heeseung noticed, catching you looking at him, and his lips quirked into a curious, soft grin. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice gentle but carrying a hint of playfulness. He finally managed to unlock the door, but instead of stepping inside, he paused, letting the question hang in the air, waiting for your answer. His eyes were on you now, all of his attention focused, as if he could sense the weight behind your unspoken thoughts.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lower lip, before speaking softly. “Just that… we probably wouldn't have such a lovely relationship if we didn’t agree to meet offline. I mean, we would have a relationship—but maybe not like this.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, his amusement clearly visible as his breath hitched from the cold, but before you could say anything more, he was pulling you inside, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. The warmth of his apartment enveloped you immediately, but the contrast between the chilly night and the sudden comfort inside felt almost surreal.

He let out a low chuckle, his voice filled with disbelief. “It’s literally freezing outside, and that’s what you’re thinking about?” Heeseung raised an eyebrow as he slipped off your jacket, his fingers brushing lightly against your arms in the process. You could feel the heat from his touch, even through the thick fabric, and it sent a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. He looked down at you, his lips curving into that teasing smile you’d come to know so well.

Before you could respond, you reached up, your fingers gently brushing the snow off the tip of his nose. “You have snow here,” you muttered, your voice soft, almost breathy, as you leaned in slightly to brush away the last remnants of snow from his cheeks.

Heeseung’s smile widened, his eyes softening as he tilted his head closer, nuzzling your nose with his own in the most affectionate way, as if you were a couple of playful kittens. “This method is better,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours as he spoke, his lips barely grazing your skin. The closeness was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and airy.

“You’re weird,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you attempted to step back, but Heeseung wasn’t having any of it. Before you could escape, his arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion.

Your giggles filled the room as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your heart skipping a beat at the suddenness of it all. Heeseung grinned up at you, his lips brushing against yours as he planted a few light kisses, each one sending a ripple of warmth through your chest.

“You’re so tiny,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur as he carried you toward his bedroom. He nudged the door open with his foot, never breaking his gaze from yours, and the sheer confidence in the way he handled you made your pulse quicken.

He gently laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours as he climbed up, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of you. You could feel the weight of his presence, the heat radiating off him as he pinned you beneath him.

For a moment, all you could do was stare at each other, the intimacy of the moment stretching out, thick and palpable. His eyes searched yours, and you could see the glint of mischief hiding behind the warmth in his gaze.

“Heesoo and Semi are going to kill you if you do something,” you teased, though the smile on your lips betrayed your words. You ran your fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the smooth skin, feeling the way his body tensed under your touch.

Heeseung leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as he pressed soft, lingering kisses, each one sending shivers down your spine. “Like what?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and teasing, the sound of it sending a wave of warmth flooding through you.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the butterflies that swirled in your stomach. “You know what I mean,” you muttered, pouting slightly, but before you could say more, he captured your lips with his, his kiss silencing your protest. His lips were warm, soft, and insistent, and you found yourself melting into him, completely forgetting what you were even trying to argue about.

Then, in one quick movement, he shifted, flipping the two of you so that you were now on top, straddling him. You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance as you adjusted to the sudden change in position.

“Woah,” you breathed, your eyes wide in surprise as you looked down at him.

Heeseung just grinned up at you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “I’ll settle for cuddles,” he said, his voice softening as he leaned up to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. His teasing tone had given way to something more tender, more intimate, and the affection in his voice made your heart flutter.

“You’re seriously such an overreactor,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he held you against him, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your cheek pressing against his chest as you relaxed into his embrace, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The sound was soothing, grounding, and you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace as you lay there, wrapped up in him.

“Am I heavy?” you asked playfully, lifting your head slightly to look down at him, your lips curving into a teasing smile.

Heeseung’s grin widened, his hands tightening around your waist as he pulled you even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “What? No,” he muttered, laughing softly. “If anything, you’re way too light.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you deepened it. He responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you tighter, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The snow continued to fall outside, but inside, wrapped in Heeseung’s arms, you felt nothing but warmth. And as the two of you lay there, tangled up in each other, you couldn’t help but think that even though the world outside was cold and quiet, in this moment, everything felt perfect.

© enreveriee | tumblr

this one's for you — lee heeseung

pairing - basketball captain!heeseung x supportive girlfriend!reader

genre - fluff, established relationship, university au, sports au

warnings - rivalry (it's just friendly competition between enhadream though lol), mentions of kisses - lmk if there's more!

wc - 1.7k

sypnosis - In the midst of a fierce rivalry between two universities, Decelis Academy of Excellion faces off against NCIT - Neo Culture Insititute of Technology - in a championship game. As tension builds on the court, his girlfriend’s unwavering support becomes his secret weapon

mentions - nct dream as the opposing basketball team (my engene czennie heart <3)

a/n - hi!! i'm cerise!! i wrote this because i was scrolling through tiktok and saw clips of movies like "she's dating the gangster" and "high school musical", so ofc, the first person to come into mind was heeseung. though this isn't the first time i've written something, it is the first post on this blog (i'm so rusty- i apologise :') ). so here's to my first post - hope you enjoy reading!

also- i know heeseung's jersey in the header pic says 11 but for the sake of the story pls pretend it's 01 </3 | bookshelf

The atmosphere in the arena is electric, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Tonight, Decelis Academy of Excellion is facing off against their long-time rivals, NCT Dream from the Neo Culture Institute of Technology. This isn’t just any game; it’s the championship finals, a battle that both teams have been gearing up for all season. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the entire university has turned out to show their support.

You sit among the packed bleachers, the air thick with school spirit as students wave banners and shout team chants. It’s a sea of blue and white, the colours of Decelis Academy, and you can feel the pride radiating from every corner of the gym. As the clock ticks down to game time, the anticipation grows, every heartbeat syncing with the excited chatter around you.

Down on the court, Heeseung, the captain of your university's basketball team, Enhypen, is warming up. He’s the embodiment of focus and determination, his eyes scanning the court while he practises his shots. You can’t help but admire him — the way he commands the game, the way he leads his teammates with both skill and charisma. But tonight is different; it’s not just a regular match. This is a culmination of years of rivalry, and the pressure is palpable.

As the lights dim and the spotlight shines down, the announcer’s voice booms through the gym, introducing the teams. The crowd erupts in cheers as Heeseung and his teammates take the court, and you can see the camaraderie among them, the bond forged through countless hours of practice and shared goals.

You pull Heeseung's oversized varsity jacket tighter around yourself, the warmth and scent of his cologne comforting. It’s your way of feeling connected to him, even as he prepares to lead his team into battle against NCT Dream. You watch him with pride, knowing that this game is more than just a championship; it’s a chance to establish Decelis Academy as the reigning champion over their rivals.

As the game unfolds, the tension builds with every point scored. Heeseung’s skill is undeniable; he moves fluidly, orchestrating plays and rallying his teammates. The score is neck and neck, and with each possession, you can feel your heart racing alongside the crowd.

With only two minutes left in the game, the score is tied, and the tension is at its peak. You can’t help but bite your lip, every second feeling like an eternity. Suddenly, Heeseung catches your eye. You can tell he’s feeling the pressure, but then, as he glances your way again, he does something unexpected.

He taps his chest twice, subtly, then points at you. You don’t realise what he’s doing at first, but then he mouths something, clear even from across the court: “This one’s for you.” 

Your breath catches. Before you can process it, Heeseung is back in motion, his body moving like it’s running on pure instinct. Flashes of memories flood his mind, reminding him why he fights so hard for this victory.

He remembers those late night practices, standing alone on the court as the gym echoed with the sound of his dribbling. Suddenly, he hears a familiar voice. “Come on, Hee! Just one more shot!” It’s you, sitting on the bleachers with a smile that lights up the dark gym. You’ve been there every night, keeping him company and offering encouragement even when he’s exhausted.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, shaking his head, and with renewed determination, he sinks the next shot effortlessly. Your applause echoes in his mind, pushing him forward.

The day before the championship, Heeseung had been a bundle of nerves, pacing in his room. You sat next to him, holding his hands and looking him in the eye. “You’ve worked so hard for this. Just remember, win or lose, I’m proud of you, Heeseung.” you said softly.

His heart swelled at your words, grounding him in the moment. “Thanks, babe. I’ll make you proud,” he promised, and in that instant, he believed he could conquer anything.

He remembers a time when he had been feeling down after a particularly tough loss. You surprised him with his favourite snacks, setting up a little picnic on the bleachers. “You know what? You’re still my number 1, no matter what. That’s your jersey number for a reason, Hee.” you said, your eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Really?” he asked, his heart lifting at your words.

“Absolutely! And besides, I’m always here to support you,” you assured him, and he couldn’t help but smile at how lucky he was.

Then there was that one practice where he felt like he just couldn’t hit a shot. Frustrated, he threw the ball down, running a hand through his hair. You stepped in close, your expression sympathetic. “Hey, even the best have off days. Remember when you taught me to shoot? I thought I’d never get it!” You demonstrated a dramatic air ball, making him burst into laughter.

“You’re right,” he admitted, a smile creeping back, “But you eventually got it, didn’t you?”

“Exactly! And you’ll find your rhythm again. Just give it time,” you encouraged, and he felt the weight lift off his shoulders, renewed with confidence.

During practice, you had always cheered from the sidelines, celebrating even the smallest victories. “Yes! That’s it, Hee! You’re on fire!” The way you looked at him, full of pride ignited something else inside him. He wants to replicate that joy on the court tonight, not just for himself but for you.

The memory fades, and he focuses back on the court. The countdown begins, and he recalls your unwavering support, how you’ve always been his anchor.

On the court, players from both teams are moving in a flurry of motion. Heeseung calls out to his teammates, his voice cutting through the noise. “Jake, move to the left! Sunghoon, set the pick!”

“Got it!” Jake replies, darting into position while Sunghoon takes his place, ready to block an incoming defender.

The crowd roars as Heeseung manoeuvres through the opposing players, sweat beading on his forehead. He catches a glimpse of you in the stands, your eyes locked on him, radiating support. That glance fuels his determination even more.

“Stay focused!” Jungwon shouts from the perimeter, eyes scanning the court. “We need to take control of this game! Make every second count!”

“Let’s go, Decelis!” the crowd chants, the rhythmic clapping reverberating through the arena.

As the game continues, Dream counters aggressively. A tall defender lunges at Heeseung, trying to steal the ball. “You think you can get past me, Captain?” Jisung taunts, grinning.

Heeseung smirks back. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Park!”

He swiftly dribbles around him, passing the ball to Jay, who quickly takes a shot from the three-point line. The ball sails through the air, but the tension rises as it bounces off the rim.

“Get the rebound!” Heeseung yells, sprinting toward the basket.

Riki is there, leaping high to grab the ball before it falls. “I got it!” he shouts, landing solidly and passing it back to Heeseung, who is now at the three-point arc.

“Take it, Hee!” Sunoo calls, eyes wide with anticipation.

With the clock ticking down, Heeseung feels the pressure mounting. He glances at the scoreboard, then back at you. He taps his chest twice and points at you, mouthing the words “This one’s for you.”, dedicating the victory shot to you. He breathes deeply and launches the ball just as the buzzer sounds, the world around him fading to silence.

The ball arcs through the air, time slowing as it nears the hoop. Heeseung holds his breath, and for a moment, the entire gym is silent, every eye glued to the ball.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Jake whispers, his hands clenched.

Suddenly, the ball swishes through the net, and the arena erupts into a symphony of cheers. Heeseung pumps his fist in the air, a triumphant smile breaking across his face as his teammates rush to celebrate with him.

“Let’s go! We did it!” Jungwon shouts, engulfing Heeseung in a hug.

“That was the cleanest shot ever!” Riki exclaims, high fiving him.

“I told you he’d make it!” Sunghoon laughs, slapping Heeseung on the back.

As the crowd continues to roar, Heeseung looks over to the stands, where you're beaming with pride. The moment feels surreal; he knows this victory is as much yours as it is his. You leap from your seat, your heart racing as you push through the flood of fans and teammates, your eyes locked on Heeseung.

“HEESEUNG!!” you shout, your voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Adrenaline fueled your every step as you sprinted towards him.

In an instant, you’re in his arms, jumping into him as he catches you effortlessly. The world around you fades as you both laugh, your heart soaring with pride and love. He spins you around, and as blue and white confetti begins to rain down from above, it feels like a scene from a fairytale.

“I can’t believe you did it!” you exclaim, breathless and beaming.

“Thank you for believing in me,” Heeseung replies, his voice warm and sincere. “I couldn’t have done it without you, babe.”

With a quick glance around, he pulls you in closer, leaning down to capture your lips in a victorious kiss. The moment is electric, the soft flutter of confetti swirling around you adding to the magic. It drifts through the air like tiny stars, each flake catching the light and highlighting the joy of the moment.

“Get a room, you two!” Jake shouts playfully, laughing as he joins the cheering crowd.

“Captain’s got a new strategy – distract the opponent with romance!” Sunghoon jokes, earning a chorus of laughter from the team.

As the teasing continues, Heeseung pulls back slightly, still holding you tight, his forehead resting against yours. The blue and white confetti dances around you, settling on your hair and shoulders, but all you can focus on is the warmth in his eyes.

“Let’s celebrate together,” he says, eyes sparkling with happiness. The energy of the crowd only amplifies the warmth between you, solidifying this victory as one you’ll both cherish forever. 

© cerisesheaven — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my works. thank you angel!

---

still with you - park jongseong

genre - romantic drama, contemporary romance, lovers to exes (to lovers again? I’ll let you guys decide <3), slight angst?

pairing - idol ex bf!jay x fem!reader

warnings - none? It’s quite nostalgic and melancholic, fitting to the rainy fall weather (and this week’s theme on bjnet!) does an open ending count? (definitely does for me lol) - lmk if I should add any!

wc -  2.1k

synopsis - In a cosy café where they once shared quiet moments, she now sits alone, missing Jay—an artist whose career has skyrocketed since they mutually parted ways. Though she supports him from afar, she can’t help but wonder: is their story truly over, or is there still a way back to each other?

a/n - hii! welcome to my first official post under bjnet! this week’s theme is “A rainy day”, and since it’s been pouring this whole week, my rainy days playlist came back. On shuffle, Jungkook's Still With You started playing–my absolute favourite song–so I was inspired to write about Jay! Hopefully the weather’s been better for you guys, and enjoy reading! | bookshelf

The rain drummed softly against the café windows, each drop cascading down the glass like tiny rivers tracing a path to nowhere. It was one of those quiet, overcast afternoons when time seemed to slow, and the world outside became a blur of muted colours. Inside the café, the warmth of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of low conversation wrapped around you, but none of it reached deep enough to distract you from the thoughts swirling in your mind.

You sat at the same table by the window, your fingers tracing invisible lines on the surface, where your books used to lie scattered. Back then, this corner had felt like your own private world—yours and Jay's. You could almost see it now, like a film playing out in front of you. He would sit across from you, his notebook open, guitar resting against the chair. Sometimes he’d hum under his breath, scribbling down lyrics, lost in the melodies that only existed in his mind until he could give them life.

You, on the other hand, were always hunched over textbooks and notes, eyes heavy with focus but heart light with the simple joy of being near him. The two of you didn’t always talk; sometimes, hours would pass in comfortable silence, with only the soft scrape of pen on paper or the occasional tap of a key on his laptop breaking the quiet. But it was a silence you cherished—a language all its own, one that spoke of contentment and understanding.

That was before.

Now, you were alone in that same café, staring out at the rain-soaked streets, lost in the bittersweet haze of what was, and what could have been. The weight of the empty chair across from you seemed heavier today, more tangible. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the song softly playing over the café’s speakers—one of his. The familiar notes tugged at something deep inside you, each lyric a reminder of the memories you still carried.

You missed him.

You missed the way his voice would gently pull you out of your thoughts when he caught you zoning out during a study session, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at you from across the table, as if to say, I'm here, I'm with you. You missed the way he would sneak a lyric or a phrase into his songs that only you would recognize, something small, something that connected just the two of you in a world where he was meant to belong to everyone.

But life had demanded more of him than just this corner of a café, more than just you. It had demanded his passion, his ambition, his heart. And you had your own path to follow. He was chasing his dream—music, the one constant in his life since long before he had met you. And you had your own dreams too, though they felt a little lonelier now. The decision to part ways hadn’t been easy for either of you, but it had been mutual. Logical, even. You both had careers to build, lives to shape. And you knew, deep down, that holding each other back wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Some days were easier than others. You kept busy with your studies, threw yourself into projects and assignments, and told yourself that this was how it had to be. That it was right. You still believed that. You both deserved to chase the things that made you feel alive. But there were days—days like today—when you’d find yourself back here, sitting at the same table, looking out at the rain and wondering.

Wondering if it was all worth it.

You watched the raindrops slide down the window, each one chasing the other, much like your thoughts. There was a time when you believed that no matter what life threw at you, the two of you could weather it together. But then the opportunities came knocking for him—the tours, the interviews, the endless nights spent in the studio. He had made it. You watched him rise, his name lighting up stages and screens, his music reaching people in ways he had always dreamed of.

And you? You cheered him on. Always. From the shadows, from a distance. Every time you saw his name in the headlines or his face on your feed, a small, proud smile would tug at your lips. That was your Jay up there, living the dream you had seen him work so hard for. You had always known he had it in him. And now the world did too.

But what the world didn’t see was the quiet ache that lived in the spaces between. They didn’t see the way your heart clenched every time his voice filled the room, reminding you of the nights you spent here, when his music was just for you. They didn’t see the way you’d trace the letters of his name absentmindedly, lost in thought, wondering if he still thought of you too.

But sitting here now, with only the rain and the memories, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t think like that, wouldn’t let yourself slip into that spiral of what ifs—but it was hard. Hard not to believe, deep down, that you were supposed to be together. That despite everything, despite the distance, despite the lives you were building separately, you should have found a way to make it work.

A sigh escaped your lips as you picked up your coffee, now lukewarm, and took a small sip. The bitterness matched the mood settling over you, but it was a familiar comfort. The door to the café opened, and you looked up instinctively, your heart fluttering in your chest, just for a moment. There was always that sliver of hope, wasn’t there? That maybe, by some twist of fate, he would walk in. That the universe would bring him back to this table, to you.

But it wasn’t him. It never was. You smiled at yourself ruefully, shaking your head at the foolishness of it. Jay wasn’t coming back—not in the way you hoped, anyway. His path was set, and so was yours.

And yet, a part of you would always be here, in this café, waiting. Waiting for the impossible, for something that felt unfinished, unresolved. You could support him from a distance, as you always had. You could celebrate his successes, take pride in his accomplishments, cheer him on silently from the sidelines. But there would always be this ache, this quiet longing for the life you imagined, the one where you didn’t have to choose between love and dreams.

The rain continued to fall, a steady, rhythmic patter against the glass. And as you sat there, lost in thought, you knew that no matter how far apart your lives grew, no matter how much time passed, a part of you would always be with him. Just as he had said once, a long time ago, when things were simpler: “I’m still with you, even when I’m not.”

And in some ways, you still were too. Always with him.

As you continue to sit there, lost in the rhythm of the raindrops against the window, the café seems to melt away, taking you further into the labyrinth of your memories. You could still hear his laugh, feel the warmth of his hand when he’d reach out to touch yours, grounding you in the moment.

But now, that warmth is gone, replaced by the distant hum of the café, the clinking of mugs, the murmur of people around you. You sigh for the nth time, gripping your coffee cup tighter as if holding onto something that was never meant to stay.

Suddenly, a familiar voice breaks through the soft chatter. You blink, snapping out of your thoughts. It’s coming from the café’s radio–a voice you’d recognise anywhere. Jay’s voice. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding as the barista turns the volume up just a bit. You hadn’t heard his voice this way in months, not like this–so close, so familiar.

“...and that was Jay Park’s latest single, Still With You, topping the charts yet again. An instant hit since its release, fans are raving about the emotional depth and the heartfelt lyrics. We actually have Jay with us on the line. Jay, congratulations! Can you tell us a little more about the song?”

Your chest tightens, and you sit up a little straighter, pulse racing. Still With you? That can’t be. That was your song. The one he’d written in this very café, the one he’d promised was for you. He’d never intended to release it, or at least, you thought he wouldn’t–especially after the two of you had parted ways. But here it was, playing on the radio for the entire world to hear.

You lean forward, your heart pounding louder than the rain as Jay’s voice comes through the speakers again, soft but steady, like a familiar embrace.

“I wrote this song a while back… for someone special in my life,” he begins, his tone thoughtful. “She was… she still is special, even though she’s not by my side anymore. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am now. I wouldn’t have found the courage to chase this dream. So I guess this song is my way of saying thank you… and maybe hoping for another chance. I don’t know if she’ll ever hear it, but—” He pauses, and for a moment, you could almost imagine him looking down, smiling softly the way he used to. “—I hope she’s still out there somewhere, hoping for another chance at love, just like I am.”

The radio host fills the silence with congratulations and questions about his tour, but you’re no longer listening. The world around you seems to blur, fading into the background as your heart races in your chest. His words echo in your mind, crashing over you like the rain against the window.

“She’s still special. I hope she’s still out there, hoping for another chance. Just like I am”

Jay. The song, the message—it was for you. It had always been for you.

The rain outside felt heavier now, or maybe it was just your pulse beating in your ears, drowning out everything else. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself, but it was impossible to ignore the sudden rush of emotion rising inside you. He hadn’t forgotten. Even after all this time, all the distance, he hadn’t let go. He was still thinking of you, still hoping, just as you had been, quietly, all this time.

Could this be it?

For a moment, you wondered if this was the sign you’d been waiting for—the universe’s way of telling you that maybe, despite everything, your story wasn’t over yet. It felt surreal–like something out of a dream. Jay, the one person you couldn’t forget, was reaching out, even if he didn’t know it.

You glanced out at the rain-soaked street beyond the café window, your reflection staring back at you with wide eyes and a heart full of questions. Could it really be that after all this time, Jay was still waiting for another chance? And more importantly, were you ready to find out?

The rain continued to fall, but for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel so heavy. Instead, it felt like the beginning of something—something you weren’t quite sure of yet, but something that made your heart beat just a little faster.

You inhaled sharply, trying to ground yourself. Was this the sign you had been waiting for? A second chance? You had been so convinced that your story with Jay had ended, but now–now, it felt as if the universe was pulling you back together, one note at a time.

You stood up slowly, gathering your things, mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. Maybe today, you’d just walk home. Maybe tomorrow, you’d listen to his song again, really listen. And maybe, just maybe, you’d find the courage to reach out.

But for now, the café door opened with a soft chime, and you stepped out into the rain—unsure of where it would lead you, but feeling, for the first time in a long time, like the world had offered you a possibility.

A possibility of a second chance.

© cerisesheaven — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my works. thank you angel!

---

omg i realised right at the beginning that there was a whole paragraph missing :') so I edited it!! my bad guys!! ily <3

still with you - park jongseong

genre - romantic drama, contemporary romance, lovers to exes (to lovers again? I’ll let you guys decide <3), slight angst?

pairing - idol ex bf!jay x fem!reader

warnings - none? It’s quite nostalgic and melancholic, fitting to the rainy fall weather (and this week’s theme on bjnet!) does an open ending count? (definitely does for me lol) - lmk if I should add any!

wc -  2.1k

synopsis - In a cosy café where they once shared quiet moments, she now sits alone, missing Jay—an artist whose career has skyrocketed since they mutually parted ways. Though she supports him from afar, she can’t help but wonder: is their story truly over, or is there still a way back to each other?

a/n - hii! welcome to my first official post under bjnet! this week’s theme is “A rainy day”, and since it’s been pouring this whole week, my rainy days playlist came back. On shuffle, Jungkook's Still With You started playing–my absolute favourite song–so I was inspired to write about Jay! Hopefully the weather’s been better for you guys, and enjoy reading! | bookshelf

The rain drummed softly against the café windows, each drop cascading down the glass like tiny rivers tracing a path to nowhere. It was one of those quiet, overcast afternoons when time seemed to slow, and the world outside became a blur of muted colours. Inside the café, the warmth of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of low conversation wrapped around you, but none of it reached deep enough to distract you from the thoughts swirling in your mind.

You sat at the same table by the window, your fingers tracing invisible lines on the surface, where your books used to lie scattered. Back then, this corner had felt like your own private world—yours and Jay's. You could almost see it now, like a film playing out in front of you. He would sit across from you, his notebook open, guitar resting against the chair. Sometimes he’d hum under his breath, scribbling down lyrics, lost in the melodies that only existed in his mind until he could give them life.

You, on the other hand, were always hunched over textbooks and notes, eyes heavy with focus but heart light with the simple joy of being near him. The two of you didn’t always talk; sometimes, hours would pass in comfortable silence, with only the soft scrape of pen on paper or the occasional tap of a key on his laptop breaking the quiet. But it was a silence you cherished—a language all its own, one that spoke of contentment and understanding.

That was before.

Now, you were alone in that same café, staring out at the rain-soaked streets, lost in the bittersweet haze of what was, and what could have been. The weight of the empty chair across from you seemed heavier today, more tangible. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the song softly playing over the café’s speakers—one of his. The familiar notes tugged at something deep inside you, each lyric a reminder of the memories you still carried.

You missed him.

You missed the way his voice would gently pull you out of your thoughts when he caught you zoning out during a study session, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at you from across the table, as if to say, I'm here, I'm with you. You missed the way he would sneak a lyric or a phrase into his songs that only you would recognize, something small, something that connected just the two of you in a world where he was meant to belong to everyone.

But life had demanded more of him than just this corner of a café, more than just you. It had demanded his passion, his ambition, his heart. And you had your own path to follow. He was chasing his dream—music, the one constant in his life since long before he had met you. And you had your own dreams too, though they felt a little lonelier now. The decision to part ways hadn’t been easy for either of you, but it had been mutual. Logical, even. You both had careers to build, lives to shape. And you knew, deep down, that holding each other back wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Some days were easier than others. You kept busy with your studies, threw yourself into projects and assignments, and told yourself that this was how it had to be. That it was right. You still believed that. You both deserved to chase the things that made you feel alive. But there were days—days like today—when you’d find yourself back here, sitting at the same table, looking out at the rain and wondering.

Wondering if it was all worth it.

You watched the raindrops slide down the window, each one chasing the other, much like your thoughts. There was a time when you believed that no matter what life threw at you, the two of you could weather it together. But then the opportunities came knocking for him—the tours, the interviews, the endless nights spent in the studio. He had made it. You watched him rise, his name lighting up stages and screens, his music reaching people in ways he had always dreamed of.

And you? You cheered him on. Always. From the shadows, from a distance. Every time you saw his name in the headlines or his face on your feed, a small, proud smile would tug at your lips. That was your Jay up there, living the dream you had seen him work so hard for. You had always known he had it in him. And now the world did too.

But what the world didn’t see was the quiet ache that lived in the spaces between. They didn’t see the way your heart clenched every time his voice filled the room, reminding you of the nights you spent here, when his music was just for you. They didn’t see the way you’d trace the letters of his name absentmindedly, lost in thought, wondering if he still thought of you too.

But sitting here now, with only the rain and the memories, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t think like that, wouldn’t let yourself slip into that spiral of what ifs—but it was hard. Hard not to believe, deep down, that you were supposed to be together. That despite everything, despite the distance, despite the lives you were building separately, you should have found a way to make it work.

A sigh escaped your lips as you picked up your coffee, now lukewarm, and took a small sip. The bitterness matched the mood settling over you, but it was a familiar comfort. The door to the café opened, and you looked up instinctively, your heart fluttering in your chest, just for a moment. There was always that sliver of hope, wasn’t there? That maybe, by some twist of fate, he would walk in. That the universe would bring him back to this table, to you.

But it wasn’t him. It never was. You smiled at yourself ruefully, shaking your head at the foolishness of it. Jay wasn’t coming back—not in the way you hoped, anyway. His path was set, and so was yours.

And yet, a part of you would always be here, in this café, waiting. Waiting for the impossible, for something that felt unfinished, unresolved. You could support him from a distance, as you always had. You could celebrate his successes, take pride in his accomplishments, cheer him on silently from the sidelines. But there would always be this ache, this quiet longing for the life you imagined, the one where you didn’t have to choose between love and dreams.

The rain continued to fall, a steady, rhythmic patter against the glass. And as you sat there, lost in thought, you knew that no matter how far apart your lives grew, no matter how much time passed, a part of you would always be with him. Just as he had said once, a long time ago, when things were simpler: “I’m still with you, even when I’m not.”

And in some ways, you still were too. Always with him.

As you continue to sit there, lost in the rhythm of the raindrops against the window, the café seems to melt away, taking you further into the labyrinth of your memories. You could still hear his laugh, feel the warmth of his hand when he’d reach out to touch yours, grounding you in the moment.

But now, that warmth is gone, replaced by the distant hum of the café, the clinking of mugs, the murmur of people around you. You sigh for the nth time, gripping your coffee cup tighter as if holding onto something that was never meant to stay.

Suddenly, a familiar voice breaks through the soft chatter. You blink, snapping out of your thoughts. It’s coming from the café’s radio–a voice you’d recognise anywhere. Jay’s voice. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding as the barista turns the volume up just a bit. You hadn’t heard his voice this way in months, not like this–so close, so familiar.

“...and that was Jay Park’s latest single, Still With You, topping the charts yet again. An instant hit since its release, fans are raving about the emotional depth and the heartfelt lyrics. We actually have Jay with us on the line. Jay, congratulations! Can you tell us a little more about the song?”

Your chest tightens, and you sit up a little straighter, pulse racing. Still With you? That can’t be. That was your song. The one he’d written in this very café, the one he’d promised was for you. He’d never intended to release it, or at least, you thought he wouldn’t–especially after the two of you had parted ways. But here it was, playing on the radio for the entire world to hear.

You lean forward, your heart pounding louder than the rain as Jay’s voice comes through the speakers again, soft but steady, like a familiar embrace.

“I wrote this song a while back… for someone special in my life,” he begins, his tone thoughtful. “She was… she still is special, even though she’s not by my side anymore. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am now. I wouldn’t have found the courage to chase this dream. So I guess this song is my way of saying thank you… and maybe hoping for another chance. I don’t know if she’ll ever hear it, but—” He pauses, and for a moment, you could almost imagine him looking down, smiling softly the way he used to. “—I hope she’s still out there somewhere, hoping for another chance at love, just like I am.”

The radio host fills the silence with congratulations and questions about his tour, but you’re no longer listening. The world around you seems to blur, fading into the background as your heart races in your chest. His words echo in your mind, crashing over you like the rain against the window.

“She’s still special. I hope she’s still out there, hoping for another chance. Just like I am”

Jay. The song, the message—it was for you. It had always been for you.

The rain outside felt heavier now, or maybe it was just your pulse beating in your ears, drowning out everything else. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself, but it was impossible to ignore the sudden rush of emotion rising inside you. He hadn’t forgotten. Even after all this time, all the distance, he hadn’t let go. He was still thinking of you, still hoping, just as you had been, quietly, all this time.

Could this be it?

For a moment, you wondered if this was the sign you’d been waiting for—the universe’s way of telling you that maybe, despite everything, your story wasn’t over yet. It felt surreal–like something out of a dream. Jay, the one person you couldn’t forget, was reaching out, even if he didn’t know it.

You glanced out at the rain-soaked street beyond the café window, your reflection staring back at you with wide eyes and a heart full of questions. Could it really be that after all this time, Jay was still waiting for another chance? And more importantly, were you ready to find out?

The rain continued to fall, but for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel so heavy. Instead, it felt like the beginning of something—something you weren’t quite sure of yet, but something that made your heart beat just a little faster.

You inhaled sharply, trying to ground yourself. Was this the sign you had been waiting for? A second chance? You had been so convinced that your story with Jay had ended, but now–now, it felt as if the universe was pulling you back together, one note at a time.

You stood up slowly, gathering your things, mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. Maybe today, you’d just walk home. Maybe tomorrow, you’d listen to his song again, really listen. And maybe, just maybe, you’d find the courage to reach out.

But for now, the café door opened with a soft chime, and you stepped out into the rain—unsure of where it would lead you, but feeling, for the first time in a long time, like the world had offered you a possibility.

A possibility of a second chance.

© cerisesheaven — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my works. thank you angel!

---

Oh I need another part of this </3 pls i love hoon sm i CAN'T

GET WELL SOON , P.SH !

﹙ 🍁 ﹚ ぃ ──── I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT, BUT I WANNA MAKE IT BETTER!

PAIRING: racer ! sunghoon × orphan ! afab reader.

SYNOPSIS: You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.

WORD COUNT: 19.2K

FEAT: WONYOUNG from IVE, JAY from ENHYPEN, HANNI from NEWJEANS, + some ocs

MENTIONS OF CRIME & ACCIDENT, OVERALL FLUFF & CRACK !

MORE LIKE THIS? || MASTERLIST?

TAGLIST: @chexnluv @moonpri @wensurr @jiyeons-closet @isa942572 @jkslvsnella @woniefull @aleeza444 @capri-cuntz @vi-ri @hotteokisms @flwwon @shhth @lialaiakalaiiaia (the ones in bold couldn't be tagged)

AS YOU LAY IN THE HOSPITAL BED, the sterile scent of antiseptic in the air, your gaze drifted to the bouquet of white roses on the table beside you. A scoff slipped from your lips before you could stop it, a bitter reminder of why you were even here.

This was all his fault. Park Sunghoon.

For a second, you tried to maintain your calm, the nice person part of you struggling to hold on, but that guy—he tested all of it.

“Throw them away, please?” you asked, your voice clipped as you turned to the nurse adjusting your IV.

Before she could respond, an infuriatingly familiar voice cut through the room, smooth yet utterly exasperating. “You don't like white?”

You didn’t even need to look to know it was him. The sudden rush of irritation heated your cheeks as you whipped your head towards the door. And there he was. Park Sunghoon. Strolling in casually, hands tucked into the pockets of his expensive designer coat, as if he hadn’t ruined your entire week.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you shot back, your glare burning through him. The forced smile on your face was saccharine, dripping with the very clear message that he was definitely not welcome.

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. Of course, he had the audacity to smirk—like always. "Sadly," he drawled, clearly enjoying himself, “you gotta keep them.”

Without invitation, he sauntered over to the side of your bed, his presence filling the room, as if his wealth and arrogance alone could smother the oxygen. You watched him with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over your chest in defiance.

“Just leave me alone, you rich jerk,” you spat, unable to hold back the venom in your tone. Your fists clenched beneath the thin hospital sheets, a reminder that you couldn’t even storm out of here like you wanted to. You were stuck—and it was all because of him.

His face faltered for a split second, the cockiness slipping ever so slightly as your words hit him. But like clockwork, he masked it, that composed, arrogant look sliding back into place.

It should’ve been satisfying to see the momentary flash of guilt cross his features, but it wasn’t enough. Not when your life had been flipped upside down, not when you were confined to this bed because of his mistake.

BUT HOW DID ALL OF THIS HAPPEN?

Well…

FLASHBACK!

Your eyes were stinging from the tears, and you clumsily wiped them away with the back of your hand. You weren’t exactly drunk—maybe two shots deep after an agonizingly stressful day—but it was enough to make your head spin. Why did it all have to be so sad?

Sniffling, you stumbled down the empty street, your shoes scuffing the pavement as you sobbed quietly into the night. The darkness felt overwhelming, like it was swallowing you whole, and even though your tears blurred your vision, you knew where you were heading—or at least you thought you did.

It wasn’t until you heard the loud, abrupt honk of a motorbike that you even realized you were standing in the middle of the street. You barely had time to turn your head towards the blinding lights before—BAM!

The impact wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, but it was enough. The bike, thankfully, had slowed down, but not nearly enough to stop it from hitting you. Pain shot through your leg as you collapsed onto the cold, hard ground, the breath knocked out of your lungs.

You groaned loudly, clutching your leg, wincing at the sharp sting that radiated through your body. Meanwhile, the rider, who had also fallen, was busy steadying himself, dusting off his helmet as if he wasn’t the reason your entire life had just flashed before your eyes.

“THE HELL?!” you screamed, your voice cracking as you tried to shift your weight but immediately regretted it. The sharp pain in your leg intensified, forcing you back down onto the concrete. You gritted your teeth, tears stinging your eyes once again as you glared up at him.

The guy finally looked your way, lifting his visor to reveal his face. "Ma’am, are you okay?" he asked, his voice eerily calm, as if he hadn’t just crashed his motorcycle into you. Like it was some minor inconvenience to him.

Your blood boiled. “Okay???" you spat out, your voice a mix of disbelief and fury. "I’m literally bleeding! Are you dumb?!”

The guy blinked, clearly taken aback by your outburst, but remained calm. Too calm. “Alright, alright, just calm down,” he muttered, crouching down next to you, but that only made you angrier.

"Calm down?” you snapped, clenching your fists as the pain and the frustration built up inside of you. “Say that when you’re the one lying here, bleeding out!"

He flinched at your words but didn’t reply. Instead, he reached into his pocket, fumbling for his phone to call an ambulance. Meanwhile, you were still seething, glancing down at your leg where the blood was now slowly trickling down your thigh, staining your jeans. The sight of it made you dizzy, your head swimming with pain and exhaustion.

You could barely keep your eyes open, but you still had enough energy to notice him—freaking fixing his bike. He had the nerve to set it upright on its stand, making sure it was okay before coming back to check on you.

"If you even think about making this a hit and run," you rasped, your voice hoarse from both pain and anger, “I’ll haunt your entire family line.”

The guy stopped, visibly gulping as he knelt down beside you once again, clearly panicking now. "No, no, that’s not—look, the ambulance is coming, okay? Just… try to stay with me.”

Your vision blurred, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the world began to tilt. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was him leaning over, actually cleaning the blood off your thigh with his sleeve, his face a mask of panic and guilt. You didn’t know what was worse—the excruciating pain or the fact that you now hated him with every fiber of your being. Park Sunghoon.

And just like that, you passed out, your hatred for him searing into the darkness of your mind as you slipped into unconsciousness.

AND WHAT EXACTLY HAPPENED AFTER THAT?

You may wonder, but well...

Turns out, the guy—Park Sunghoon—was not just any calm, overly collected motorcyclist who’d crashed into you that night. No, he was the son of a wealthy man, one of those who didn’t have to face consequences because money speaks louder than the truth. And apparently, money really does talk, especially when you’re up against a system rigged to work in favor of the rich.

Even though Sunghoon had confessed to being at fault—had told the police it was his mistake—the tests showed otherwise. Your blood test, which revealed traces of alcohol, was enough to tip the scales in his favor. You weren’t even drunk, for heaven's sake—two shots hardly counted—but that didn’t matter. The system had already labeled you as the reckless one. Your claims of innocence? Brushed off, like dust from his expensive jacket.

It was humiliating. The police barely questioned Sunghoon. His parents swooped in like hawks, ensuring their precious son wouldn’t be held accountable for such a trivial incident, and just like that, there was no investigation, no justice. Just a quick sweep under the rug, and you were left to fester in your anger, helpless against the machine that protected people like him.

Being an orphan only made things worse. You had no guardian, no family to back you up or fight for you. Your best friend, Wonyoung, was the only one who came to your side. She tried covering your hospital bills—she had offered, insisted even—but you couldn’t let her. She needed the money more than you did, and you weren’t about to burden her with your mess. But you couldn't deny her when she showed up every day with packed lunches, smuggling in home-cooked meals like they were contraband.

On one particular afternoon, you sat in the hospital bed, poking at the warm rice she had lovingly packed in a small bento box. Wonyoung sat across from you, her eyes burning with the same hatred you felt. She stabbed at her own food, her anger simmering with every bite.

“I still can’t believe him,” she muttered, barely able to contain her frustration. “How does he get to walk away from this like it’s nothing?”

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head as you swallowed a bite of food. “Because he’s rich. Rich guys don’t face consequences, apparently.”

She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I hate him. I hate him so much.”

You sighed, your gaze falling to your bandaged leg. It throbbed, a constant reminder of everything that had happened. “Join the club,” you muttered. “He hasn’t even tried to take responsibility. Not once.”

Wonyoung scoffed, glancing over at the sterile hospital room, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over everything. “How does he sleep at night? Like, seriously?”

You thought about that too. How did Park Sunghoon sleep at night? Probably on some ridiculously expensive mattress in his mansion, far away from the mess he’d left you in. You clenched your fists around the edge of your blanket, biting back the urge to cry. Not again. You were so tired of crying, of feeling powerless, of being at the mercy of someone else’s mistakes.

AND AS THE DAYS PASSED, the gnawing anxiety of being kicked out of the hospital clung to you like a dark cloud. Let's be honest—you had no money. The minute the hospital caught wind of that, you were sure they’d toss you out on the curb without a second thought. It wasn’t like you had any guardian to bail you out, no family waiting in the wings to cover the mounting costs. You were an orphan—alone, except for your best friend Wonyoung, who had already done more than she needed to.

Sitting up slightly in your bed, you glanced at the nurse as she came in to check your vitals. She seemed nice—too nice—and it was exactly that thread of hope you grasped at as you hesitantly asked, “So... when do I pay the hospital bill?”

You knew the question was pointless, knew the answer would sink like lead in your gut, but you had to ask. Maybe, just maybe, a miracle would happen.

The nurse adjusted the IV drip, giving you a small smile as she jotted something down on her clipboard. “Someone already paid for you.”

Your jaw didn’t drop—not even a little—because let’s be honest, you knew who had covered it. Sunghoon’s parents. Of course they did. Anything to wipe their son’s record clean, to make sure no trace of this incident marred the reputation of their precious heir. Rich people.

“Right.” You muttered, sinking back into the pillows, staring at the plain white ceiling. It was always the same. Pay, forget, move on. No justice, just convenient cover-ups.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension building inside you, walked out of the room. You sighed heavily, closing your eyes, hoping—praying—that it wasn’t Sunghoon or one of his parents waiting for you outside. But your luck? Yeah, it never worked in your favor.

“Enjoying your stay here?” His voice was as smooth as silk, and when you opened your eyes, there he was, Park Sunghoon, standing in the doorway with that charming smile of his. It was the kind of smile that could have melted hearts—not yours, though. Not now, not when he was the reason you were lying here, stuck in this bed, smelling nothing but disinfectant and medicine.

“Yeah, it’s great,” you bit out, rolling your eyes. “A dream vacation. Smell of medicine, broken bones, IV drips—just paradise.”

Sunghoon chuckled softly, like he wasn’t standing in front of you after nearly ruining your life. You could have thrown the flower pot sitting by your bed at him—would have if the nurse hadn’t spoken up at that exact moment.

“She has a fracture in her leg and some soft tissue damage, but with rehabilitation, she should recover in twelve to eighteen weeks,” the nurse said, looking at Sunghoon like he actually cared about your prognosis.

“Alright. I get it,” he muttered, nodding as if he was taking mental notes, and you wondered why. Why was he still here? Why did he even care? He had already done his job, hadn’t he? Paid the bills, covered the mess—so why was he still hanging around?

The nurse excused herself, flashing what you swore was a knowing smile before she left the room. “Okay, then, enjoy your time with your girlfriend,” she said as she slipped out the door.

Girlfriend?! You nearly choked on your own breath. Girlfriend?? Really?! Your eyes shot to Sunghoon, demanding an explanation as you sat up straighter, the hospital blanket clenched in your fists.

“Explain,” you hissed, glaring at him with all the hatred you could muster. Your leg ached with the movement, but you ignored it, your whole body brimming with frustration.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well... my dad wouldn’t let me get involved after the accident. But I wanted to take responsibility, and the only way I could stay connected to this without the media getting involved was to pretend you were my girlfriend. That way, it looks like I’m just... you know, paying your bills because I care.”

“Because you care?” You scoffed, your voice dripping with venom. “As expected. Rich people like you don’t actually care—you just want to clean up the mess and move on. Get the media off your back. Don’t worry about me though, Sunghoon. Just stay away from me, because if you keep hanging around, I swear, I will go insane.”

You grabbed the flower pot with one hand, aiming it directly at his face. Your knuckles whitened from the grip, the tension boiling over.

“Whoa, whoa!” Sunghoon raised his hands defensively, stepping back with a sheepish smile that only infuriated you more. “Calm down. I’m going, I’m going.”

He slipped out of the room with a smile that seemed too nonchalant, like none of this was serious to him. He disappeared into the hallway, leaving you to stew in your anger.

You let out a long string of curses under your breath, tossing the flower pot back onto the bedside table with a huff. Your head fell back against the pillow, and you closed your eyes, groaning in frustration.

Why did this guy have to be so infuriating? Every time you thought about him, your blood boiled, and now you were stuck in this mess with him as the person supposedly “taking care” of you. What a joke.

You clutched the blanket tighter, trying to shake off the overwhelming mix of emotions—anger, frustration, and the suffocating feeling of helplessness.

THE NEXT DAY?

SUNGHOON WAS BACK AGAIN.

You groaned inwardly, watching him from the corner of your eye as he quietly settled into the chair beside your hospital bed. He didn't speak, just sat there, his eyes glued to you. What the hell was his deal? You were already too tired to deal with the fact that this guy, who had already caused enough trouble in your life, was now making himself a permanent fixture in your hospital room.

“Can you just go away?” you murmured, voice low and raspy, refusing to look at him directly. It was irritating enough that he was here—you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

He shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly as if he were genuinely invested in whatever non-existent conversation you were about to have. “I just... I just wanted to apologize,” he started, his tone softer than you expected. “Look, I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, didn’t want you to get this fracture—”

“Don’t bother me with your false apologies,” you cut him off, your voice sharp as your eyes narrowed in on him. There was no way you were going to sit here and let him play the nice guy when he was the reason you were stuck in this bed. As far as you were concerned, his words were as hollow as his concern.

Sunghoon flinched at your dismissal, but his face quickly returned to that neutral, unreadable expression he always wore. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a small, elegant container from his side, opened it up, and began arranging a steaming bowl of ramen. The fragrant aroma hit your nose almost instantly—rich broth, a soft-boiled egg on the side, and a hint of spice. His personal chef’s touch, no doubt. How typical.

“Here.” He pushed the bowl towards you, chopsticks in hand, offering it like it was some grand gesture of peace.

You stared at it, the smell tempting your empty stomach. But hell no were you going to eat anything he gave you. Not after everything. It felt like taking pity food, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d done something nice.

“I don’t want to eat this,” you refused coldly, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your head away as if the sight of it disgusted you.

Sunghoon blinked, clearly taken aback by your blunt rejection. The chopsticks hovered mid-air, the ramen dangling precariously off the ends. “Then... what are you gonna eat?” His tone wasn’t mocking, just confused—like he couldn’t fathom why anyone would refuse gourmet ramen made by a personal chef.

You bit back a sigh, feeling the frustration bubbling under your skin. “The hospital food,” you replied flatly, knowing full well you had no intention of eating it. Who in their right mind actually wanted hospital food? But you weren’t going to let him win. Even if it meant enduring that tasteless mush, you would.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, completely unfazed, and with the same calm indifference, he took a bite of the ramen himself. Leaning back in his chair, he made himself comfortable, savoring each bite like he had all the time in the world. The room was suddenly filled with the sound of his quiet chewing, and your irritation spiked.

“What the hell?” you muttered, glaring at him as he continued to eat in silence.

He glanced at you, the corner of his lips twitching as if he found this whole situation amusing. “You said you didn’t want it. So, I’m eating it.” His tone was maddeningly casual, as if the fact that you were lying there in a hospital bed while he enjoyed a meal meant absolutely nothing to him.

“I—” You started, but your words stuck in your throat. Was he doing this on purpose? You glared at him, eyes narrowing, your frustration palpable. Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him with all the strength you could muster.

It hit him square in the chest, the force of it barely making him flinch, but it was enough to get his attention.

“Just eat somewhere else!” you snapped, your voice raising a bit louder than you intended. “Not near me. You’re making me feel nauseous,” you added, feigning an exaggerated gag as you pressed your hand to your stomach, though in truth, your frustration was more mental than physical.

Sunghoon paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, his gaze flickering over to you. For a split second, you saw something in his eyes—something like amusement, or maybe even disbelief. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual blank, indifferent expression.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, pushing his chair back a few inches as if to placate you. He continued eating though, leaning further back, seemingly unbothered by your outburst.

You watched him in silence, your hands clenching the hospital blanket in frustration. How could someone be so infuriating? Every fiber of your being screamed to tell him off, to shout at him for being so... so... indifferent.

But deep down, you knew you couldn’t push him too far. As much as you hated it, this guy and his filthy rich family were the ones footing your hospital bills. Without them, you’d be in deep trouble, maybe even kicked out by now. You needed to be civil—just civil enough—to keep this uncomfortable arrangement going. But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

As Sunghoon continued eating, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Your job. What the hell were you supposed to tell your workplace? They were going to fire you for taking such a long break, weren’t they? You were already behind on rent, behind on everything. And now, because of him, you were going to lose the only shred of stability you had left.

You glanced at him again, annoyance bubbling up inside you. This was all his fault.

Every second he stayed here, pretending to be remorseful, pretending to care—it only fueled your hatred more.

After finishing up his food, Sunghoon finally stood up from the chair, and for a blissful second, you thought he was about to leave. Peace, at last.

But no. You watched in dismay as he turned toward the door, only to return moments later with another steaming bowl of food—something undoubtedly made by his annoyingly talented personal chef again. Your stomach growled involuntarily at the sight of it, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing you wanted it.

Just as you were about to shoot him a glare, the nurse caring for you entered the room, pushing a small tray cart with the dreaded hospital food on it. Great. She offered a brief, polite smile as she placed the tray on your bedside table. The food looked even worse today—if that was even possible—bland and unappetizing, the kind of meal that probably hadn’t seen salt or seasoning in years.

“Here you go, sweetie. Make sure you eat something,” the nurse said warmly before quickly leaving the room, clearly unaware of the ongoing battle of wills between you and Sunghoon.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you looked over at him. He was watching you, his elbow lazily perched on the arm of the chair, his hand supporting his chin. A slow, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. That damn smirk. The one that made you want to throw something at him—if it weren’t for your fractured leg keeping you bedridden.

“Thank you,” you muttered halfheartedly, reluctantly picking up the plastic spoon that came with the hospital food. You took a bite of the mushy, tasteless concoction, and immediately regretted it. It was like eating wet cardboard. You fought hard not to gag, your throat tightening as the flavorless blob slid down.

Sunghoon chuckled quietly from across the room, his eyes never leaving you. “I thought you wanted hospital food?” he teased, leaning forward just a little as if to get a better look at your suffering.

You made a face, a sickened grimace pulling at your lips as soon as the nurse was out of sight. The taste was vile. And worse yet, Sunghoon seemed to be thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle.

“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his smirk widening. He knew you didn’t want the hospital food. He knew, and that only seemed to make this entire situation even more entertaining for him.

Your pride was the only thing stopping you from throwing the tray out the window and devouring the meal he brought, but your body was betraying you. Your stomach growled again, loud enough for Sunghoon to hear. He chuckled, clearly amused by your stubbornness.

Before you could protest, he moved closer, balancing the bowl of ramen on his knee as he picked up his chopsticks. With an exaggerated nonchalance, he twirled some noodles around the chopsticks and brought them to your lips.

“Here,” he said, voice soft but teasing. “Just try it.”

You stared at the chopsticks hovering in front of you, your resolve weakening. The savory scent of the ramen was intoxicating, and before you knew it, your body betrayed you once again. You leaned forward and took a bite, unable to resist the warm, perfectly seasoned noodles. The difference in taste was almost enough to make you groan in relief.

Sunghoon’s smirk deepened as he watched you chew, his eyes glinting with amusement. “That’s a good girl,” he murmured, the words rolling off his tongue with a teasing lilt.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, and you glared at him through a mouthful of ramen. “Don’t call me that,” you muttered, voice muffled as you chewed.

“Why not?” He tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking up in playful curiosity. “You don’t like being called a good girl?”

“It’s cringe,” you replied shortly, swallowing the bite. “Just... feed me, dude.”

He raised an eyebrow at the casual “dude” and let out a soft snort of laughter. “Don’t ‘dude’ me,” he shot back, his tone playfully offended. He twirled more noodles around the chopsticks and held them up for you again.

You glared at him but leaned in for another bite, chewing slowly, savoring the flavor. Dammit, the ramen was good. Stupid rich kids and their personal chefs.

“Why can’t you be nice to me for just one second?” he asked, his voice light but with an edge of genuine curiosity.

You scoffed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Maybe because you literally got my leg fractured.”

He let out a low sigh, his face softening as he leaned back in the chair, one hand resting lazily on his thigh while the other still held the chopsticks. “That was a mistake.”

“A mistake that cost me my life,” you shot back, your voice laced with bitter sarcasm. You gestured to your leg, propped up awkwardly with a cast. “I can’t work. I’m stuck here. All because of you.”

He winced slightly, but it was brief, his calm expression returning just as quickly. “Yeah, but I’m paying for your bills and feeding you gourmet food. I think that counts for something.”

“Oh, wow. Thanks. I guess I’m supposed to be grateful that you’re throwing your money at the problem you caused,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

He leaned in again, closer this time, his face just inches from yours as he held up the chopsticks with a piece of soft-boiled egg. “You need protein to recover,” he said with mock seriousness, as if that somehow excused everything.

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare but opened your mouth reluctantly, letting him feed you the egg. It was delicious, of course.

Your bickering continued, the tension between you palpable—part frustration, part something you didn’t want to examine too closely. As much as you hated to admit it, there was something almost... comfortable in this strange back-and-forth. Even if he was insufferable. Even if he had ruined your life. There was something about the way he teased you, the way he looked at you with that annoying smirk, that was... unsettling in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“Next time,” you muttered between bites, “just don’t call me a good girl.”

Sunghoon grinned, eyes glinting with amusement. “We’ll see.”

A WEEK HAD PASSED,

AND SOMEHOW, THIS GUY,

PARK SUNGHOON—

Had become an inescapable shadow in your life. He was always around, lingering like a ghost in the corner of your hospital room, and frankly, it was getting on your nerves. You’d half expected him to get bored and move on, but no, he was persistent. Today was no exception, as he casually strolled in, dressed far too well for someone who supposedly had nothing better to do.

As if the universe wanted to test you even more, you suddenly realized you needed to use the bathroom. Perfect. With a fractured leg and several other annoying injuries, it wasn’t exactly a simple task to just get up and go.

Your eyes flickered over to Sunghoon, who, as usual, was making himself comfortable in the chair beside your bed, scrolling through his phone like he had all the time in the world. How does he not have work? you wondered. But then again, he was rich. He probably was the boss—no one to yell at him for skipping out.

An idea popped into your head, one so devious it made you almost grin. If you were stuck in this hell because of him, then he was going to suffer for it, too.

“I need to use the washroom,” you said, your voice dripping with forced sweetness. You shot him a smile so sugary it could give someone a cavity.

He looked up from his phone, raising a single eyebrow, his expression both confused and slightly suspicious. “And why are you telling me this?” His tone was casual, but you could tell he was wondering what you were up to.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Did he really not get it?

“Well,” you said, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, “because you’re going to help me get there.”

Sunghoon’s face twisted into an expression of disbelief, the confusion deepening as he stared at you. His brows furrowed, and he glanced from you to your cast, clearly trying to make sense of the situation. “Can’t you just call the nurse?” he asked, his voice filled with exasperation.

You shrugged again, acting as though the answer was obvious. “The nurse is probably busy with other patients. You’re here, so... help me.”

For a moment, Sunghoon just stared at you, realizing that this was your revenge—your small, petty way of getting back at him. You could see the gears turning in his head as he weighed his options, but ultimately, he sighed, knowing full well this was his fault. He couldn’t say no. Not this time.

He stood up from his chair, slipping his phone into his pocket, and walked over to you. “Fine,” he grumbled under his breath, though there was a subtle trace of amusement in his voice. “Let’s get this over with.”

You smirked, raising your arms toward him in a silent, exaggerated demand for help. He gave you a look—one that said he knew exactly what you were doing—but he bent down anyway, carefully placing his arm around your back to help you sit up.

His movements were surprisingly gentle as he shifted you, mindful of your injuries. For a moment, you almost forgot you were supposed to hate him, but the memory of your fractured leg came rushing back as you awkwardly stood, balancing on your good leg while he held you up.

“You’ve done this before, right?” you teased, leaning a bit more heavily on him than necessary.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t answer, his grip tightening around your waist as he helped you off the bed. “Just don’t fall on me,” he muttered, his voice laced with mild frustration.

You let out a small, fake gasp. “Are you afraid of a little contact, Sunghoon?” you asked, your tone dripping with mock innocence.

His jaw clenched slightly, but he ignored your jab, shifting his weight to better support you as he guided you toward the bathroom. “Gosh, why can’t you just call the nurse like a normal person?” he groaned, sounding far more exasperated now that he was actually having to deal with you.

“Because,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “this is your fault. You got me into this mess, and now you get to deal with it.”

He sighed again, clearly trying his hardest not to snap back at you. You could practically hear the patience draining out of him as he helped you into the bathroom, your body leaning heavily on his arm as you hobbled on one leg. His other hand hovered near your cast, careful not to jostle it.

Once you were inside the small bathroom, he slowly backed out, giving you space but not before shooting you a deadpan look. “You good?”

You smirked, biting back a laugh. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

Sunghoon closed the door behind him with a soft click, but not before calling through the wood, “Just yell when you’re finished, Your Highness.”

Leaning against the bathroom sink, you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. Revenge tasted sweet, even if it was petty. You knew Sunghoon didn’t want to be here, playing nurse, but it felt good to trouble him—just a little.

You took your time, prolonging your stay in the bathroom for as long as possible, savoring the knowledge that Sunghoon was waiting outside. Maybe it was childish, but it made you feel a bit better, if only for a moment.

As you lingered in the bathroom, relishing in your small, mischievous victory, Sunghoon's voice rang out from the other side of the door, his tone laced with irritation.

“You done?” he called out, his voice slightly muffled through the door.

You smirked, leaning your head back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, debating whether to prolong this little game. But fate, it seemed, had other plans for you. In your attempt to stand up properly, your balance wavered. Your injured leg buckled slightly, causing you to slip, creating a loud thud that echoed off the walls.

“Oh God?! Did you break your leg again?” Sunghoon’s voice immediately shifted from annoyance to a surprising edge of concern. You could hear the door handle jiggle as he attempted to open it.

In a panic, you yelled back before he could barge in. “Don’t even try! I haven’t pulled my pants up!” Your voice wobbled between panic and embarrassment, heat rising to your cheeks despite yourself.

There was a brief pause, followed by a mixture of relief and exasperation in his tone. “Seriously?”

You could practically feel his embarrassment from behind the door as he rubbed the back of his neck, caught between wanting to help and this awkward situation. “Then pull them up!” he said, as though that solved everything. The sheer audacity of his tone made your eye twitch.

“Listen, boy,” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm and frustration. “If I could pull them up, don’t you think I’d be able to walk out? I’m literally stuck on the floor. And it’s disgusting down here!”

His groan was audible through the door, no doubt paired with him running a hand over his face in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

The back-and-forth bickering continued for what felt like forever, with you calling out orders and him grumbling on the other side of the door. After what seemed like an eternity, you finally gave up trying to maintain any shred of dignity in this situation.

“Okay, I pulled them up! Now, help me get out of here,” you finally yelled, exhausted from the struggle.

Sunghoon let out a deep, exaggerated sigh of relief, one that almost made you want to smack him if it weren’t for your current predicament. “Phew, finally.” You could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

The door opened, and Sunghoon stepped inside with a mix of irritation and amusement. He bent down to help you, slipping his arm around your waist once more, lifting you up with practiced ease. You let out a small huff as he guided your weight against him, his warm hand steadying you as your body adjusted to standing again.

Without another word, you wobbled toward the sink, more than ready to return to the bed, but you couldn’t just ignore the fact that your hands were still dirty. Sunghoon kept his arm around you as you leaned over the sink to wash your hands, his eyes narrowing as he observed what you were doing.

"You..." he started, trailing off, his eyes slowly widening in horror. “You haven’t washed your hands yet, have you?”

You glanced up at him through the mirror, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously not. I fell, genius,” you muttered, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sunghoon’s face instantly paled, his eyes darting from his hands to yours, his expression shifting from shock to absolute disgust. He immediately let go of you, stepping back like you’d just told him you had the plague.

“You did NOT just touch me with unwashed hands,” he said, his voice a mix of horror and disgust as he dramatically recoiled. His hand hovered in the air, shaking slightly, before he rushed to the other side of the sink, furiously scrubbing his hands with soap, as though he were trying to rid himself of every possible germ.

Watching him panic was somehow immensely satisfying, a smug grin curling your lips as you watched him suffer in disgust. “Eww, eww, eww!” he muttered to himself as he scrubbed, his face twisted in revulsion.

“Serves you right,” you quipped, leaning back against the wall, watching him frantically rinse his hands as though his life depended on it.

“You’re disgusting,” he shot back, glaring at you through the mirror, but the corner of his mouth twitched as though he were trying hard not to smile.

"Don’t act like I planned to fall, Sunghoon,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you continued to lean on him for support, your smirk never faltering. “But seeing you in pain—this... disgust—I gotta admit, it feels kinda good.”

He shot you a look, half exasperated and half amused, running a hand through his hair. “You’re something else,” he muttered, shaking his head as he helped you back toward the bed.

As much as you wanted to hate him, there was something oddly... endearing about his reaction. The tension between the two of you simmered beneath the surface, a strange mix of frustration, amusement, and something else you refused to acknowledge.

“I know,” you said, smirking as you let him help you lie down on the bed again. “I’m the best kind of trouble.”

Sunghoon scoffed, rolling his eyes, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—something that made the air between you shift. For a moment, the banter fell silent, replaced by an unspoken tension. You both looked away at the same time, the quiet hum of the hospital room filling the space where your words had been.

It wasn’t hatred, not anymore—not exactly. It was something far more complicated than that.

AGAIN,

The next week went by in a haze of frustration, playful revenge, and shared irritations. What had started as your deep-seated hatred for Sunghoon for causing your fractured leg evolved into something less easy to define. It became a bizarre game of you tormenting him with every small inconvenience, while he reluctantly dealt with the trouble, almost as if he believed he deserved it. You had no idea why he kept coming back, why he hadn't just left you to the hospital staff—yet here he was. Every day. Helping you.

And today? Today, you were bored out of your mind, sick of the sterile walls of your hospital room and the bland hospital gown clinging uncomfortably to your skin. The thought of sitting in that stiff bed for another minute was unbearable. Naturally, you decided Sunghoon should suffer the consequences of your boredom too. After all, he was the reason you were here in the first place.

“Take me out for a walk,” you’d said earlier, putting on your best guilt-trip face. “It’s the weekend, you have time. I’ve been stuck here for days.”

Sunghoon, standing at the foot of your bed with an exasperated sigh, had rubbed his temples as if debating whether to throw you into the wheelchair himself or just walk out. But he didn't. With a reluctant grunt and a muttered “Fine, whatever,” he agreed, grabbing the wheelchair from the corner and helping you into it.

Now, as he pushed you down the hospital hallway, your eyes gleamed with mischief. Your fractured leg was propped up awkwardly, wrapped in thick layers of bandages, and your body was still healing, but you were reveling in making him work for it.

"The garden!" you demanded, pointing outside through the glass doors like a queen giving orders to her servant.

Sunghoon, visibly tired from both the physical effort and the mental strain of dealing with you, gave a long-suffering sigh. “You enjoy this,” he muttered, his voice barely hiding the annoyance beneath. It wasn’t a question. He knew you were having way too much fun making his life difficult.

You didn’t answer him. Instead, you leaned back in the wheelchair with a smug grin, watching the trees and flowers of the hospital garden come into view. The warm sunlight kissed your skin, a far cry from the cold hospital walls. This, oddly enough, felt freeing. And it was even better knowing Sunghoon was stuck with you through it. He owed you, after all.

As you rolled along the garden’s paths, you caught sight of something from the corner of your eye—flashes. The unmistakable click of cameras. Paparazzi.

Your smile widened. You remembered the lies Sunghoon had told the nurse—how he had casually, with that infuriating confidence, claimed you were his girlfriend to save face. He was wealthy, privileged, and undoubtedly terrified of the media catching wind of the real story—that he was the one who crashed into you and got you in this mess.

A WICKED IDEA BLOOMED IN YOUR MIND.

Without warning, you let out a loud, exaggerated sob, your shoulders shaking dramatically as you hid your face in your hands. The sound echoed across the garden, loud enough that even the photographers several feet away perked up, their lenses immediately focusing on you.

Sunghoon immediately froze, halting the wheelchair in confusion. “What are you doing?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he moved to your side, kneeling down beside you. His eyes darted around, realizing the attention you were drawing.

But you didn’t stop. You cried even louder, your voice cracking as you spoke, “It’s because of you! You ruined me! You ruined my life!” Your words were over the top, a dramatic sob story for the cameras.

Sunghoon’s eyes went wide with panic, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He glanced over at the paparazzi, whose cameras were now flashing like crazy, capturing every tear, every quiver of your voice. “You’re kidding, right?” His voice was low, trying to keep his cool but clearly rattled.

You shot him a look through tear-filled eyes that could have won you an Oscar for Best Actress. “I can’t believe you did this to me,” you sobbed again, clutching your leg for dramatic effect. “All because you weren’t paying attention!”

He leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper as he desperately tried to contain the situation. “Please, don’t do this,” he pleaded, his eyes darting nervously between you and the flashing cameras.

But you weren’t done. Oh no. You were just getting started. “I should’ve never trusted you!” you wailed, loud enough for the photographers to pick up every word.

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, panic flooding his features as the paparazzi moved closer, their cameras capturing every second of your breakdown. He looked desperate, and it was almost... satisfying. Watching him squirm under the weight of his own lies felt like sweet revenge.

You were just about to spill the whole truth—about how he’d been the one to hit you with his motorbike, how he’d been pretending you were his girlfriend to save his reputation—when Sunghoon, clearly sensing what you were about to do, suddenly placed his hand firmly over your mouth, silencing you in an instant.

Your eyes widened in shock as his palm pressed against your lips. Without saying a word, he grabbed the wheelchair handles with his other hand and started pushing you back toward the hospital entrance, ignoring the flurry of camera flashes now going wild as the paparazzi captured the scene.

You muffled against his hand, glaring at him furiously as he practically ran down the hospital pathway, steering you out of sight from the media frenzy.

He didn’t stop until you were back inside the hospital, away from prying eyes. When he finally removed his hand from your mouth, you gasped, shooting him a withering glare.

“What the hell, Sunghoon?!” you yelled, still breathless from the intensity of it all.

He turned to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration and something you couldn’t quite place. “What the hell? Are you insane?! You were going to ruin me out there!”

“I should ruin you!” you shot back, crossing your arms as best as you could in the wheelchair. “You deserve it!”

His face softened for just a split second, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Yeah, maybe I do,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But don’t think for a second I’m going to let you drag me down that easily.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden tension between you—something beyond the irritation, beyond the bickering. Something you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

He turned away, gripping the wheelchair handles once more as he moved you back toward your room in silence. And as much as you hated him, you couldn’t help but feel something else too.

As Sunghoon pushed your wheelchair back into the hospital, you couldn’t help but notice the other patients scattered throughout the halls. Most were older, their faces worn with the kind of wisdom you only get from enduring the passage of time. You saw them glance your way, eyes lighting up with admiration, clearly assuming that you and Sunghoon were some kind of tragic but loving couple, destined to overcome hardship together.

Ha. As if.

There wasn’t a drop of love here. The very thought made you internally cringe. If only they knew the truth—that Sunghoon was the reason you were in this wheelchair in the first place. That this whole ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ facade was just a cover-up for his recklessness. But, no. To them, he was probably some knight in shining armor, dutifully pushing his beloved around the hospital.

You caught a glimpse of an elderly woman giving you a soft smile, and you had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. This wasn’t a fairytale romance—it was a mess. A tangled, ridiculous mess.

Sunghoon finally maneuvered you back into your hospital room, the wheels of the chair squeaking as he parked it beside your bed. He bent down, his fingers curling around the handles of the wheelchair as if ready to help you out. For a brief second, you could see the faint lines of stress etched into his face, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tightly.

Before he could do anything, though, his phone buzzed. He glanced down at the screen, eyebrows knitting together in a frown. He hesitated, clearly debating whether or not to answer, but eventually muttered, “I’ll just take this real quick.”

He stepped away, answering the call with a curt, “Yeah?” His voice was low, tense. As the conversation unfolded, you heard snippets of his replies: “I know better,” and “I’m an adult,” followed by a string of sighs. You couldn’t hear the other person on the line, but you could guess. It was probably one of his parents, likely lecturing him for spending so much time around you. After all, why would the rich, polished Sunghoon waste his precious time with some girl he’d accidentally injured?

But the truth was, Sunghoon couldn’t just up and leave you. Oh no. The media was already onto you both, snapping pictures every time you were in public together. If he suddenly disappeared now, they’d think he was the kind of guy who bailed on his girlfriend just because she got injured. His reputation would plummet faster than you’d hit the ground earlier.

Still, was it the truth? That Sunghoon didn’t want to be around you?

The reality was more complicated. You couldn’t even imagine calling him a friend, let alone anything more. This was a weird, temporary arrangement—nothing else.

“I’ll be back,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath, still distracted by his phone. Without a second glance in your direction, he hurried out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he disappeared.

Wait. What?

You blinked, staring at the empty space where he had been just moments ago. Did he seriously just walk out without helping you get back into bed? Your mouth fell open in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?” you whispered to the empty room.

You waited, expecting him to come back any minute now, to walk in with that same frustrated expression and a sarcastic apology on his lips. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen. Nothing.

An entire hour dragged by, and still—no Sunghoon. The nurse was nowhere to be found either, probably off on her rounds, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

The frustration boiled inside you. There was no way you were going to stay trapped in this wheelchair any longer. It wasn’t comfortable, and the bed—despite being stiff and unwelcoming—looked like heaven compared to the cold seat you were stuck in.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to do it yourself.

Carefully, you placed your hands on the armrests, trying to hoist yourself up. Your fractured leg protested immediately, the dull ache turning into a sharp pain, but you ignored it. You couldn’t afford to fall, not now. You just had to get onto the bed.

One step. Then another.

You winced as your good leg took the brunt of your weight, wobbling unsteadily. It was like trying to walk a tightrope while holding a stack of plates. Your body swayed, arms trembling as you gripped the bed frame for support. Almost there. You could feel the edge of the mattress pressing against your fingertips.

And then—your foot slipped.

With a sickening thud, you fell face-first into the mattress, your body collapsing awkwardly against the bed frame. Pain shot through your leg as you let out a sharp gasp.

“Damn it!” you cursed under your breath, your voice muffled by the bedspread. “Sunghoon, this is all your fault!”

You lay there for a moment, too stunned and too furious to move. How could he just leave you like that? The idiot was probably off taking some important call while you were stuck in this miserable situation. Your hatred for him simmered again, bubbling to the surface like boiling water ready to spill over.

With a groan, you tried to push yourself up, your muscles straining as you fought to get into a proper position on the bed. Your face burned with embarrassment and anger. All you could think about was how Sunghoon was going to get an earful when—if—he ever came back.

But, despite the frustration, there was something else gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Something you didn’t want to acknowledge. Something about the way his expression had softened just before he left, like he wasn’t entirely indifferent to you. Like there was something there, beneath all the sarcastic quips and exasperated sighs.

No. You shook your head, refusing to entertain the idea. This wasn’t some cliché hospital romance where the guy who ruined your life suddenly became your savior. Sunghoon wasn’t some misunderstood prince charming. He was just... Sunghoon. Annoying, frustrating, and absolutely the last person you wanted to deal with.

Still, as you lay there, face buried in the hospital bed, you couldn’t help but feel that gnawing frustration twisting into something else. Something far more complicated.

THE NEXT DAY PASSED IN A HAZE.

And the day after that.

And another day.

Each one crawled by, dragging itself through hours that felt like days. But Sunghoon didn’t return. Not a text, not a call, not even a shadow of his presence outside your hospital room. You didn’t want to admit it, but his absence gnawed at you. Was he sick? Had something happened? Why the hell were you even wondering about it?

You shouldn’t care.

You didn’t care.

In fact, you should be overjoyed if he had caught some miserable flu. Or—better yet—if he had gotten into trouble of his own for once. You’d be happy. Relieved, even.

Right?

Except, you weren’t. Something unsettling tugged at the back of your mind. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t said a word before disappearing. But the more you tried to push the thought away, the more it latched onto you.

And then the door to your hospital room creaked open, a slow twist of the knob announcing a presence you hadn’t expected.

In walked a woman.

Her aura screamed wealth, a kind of quiet, effortless opulence that you recognized instantly—the tailored coat, the way her silk scarf draped perfectly over her shoulders, and most notably, her glasses. You had never seen anyone wear glasses that looked like they cost more than your entire hospital stay.

She didn’t spare you much of a glance at first, too busy taking off her glasses with a dismissive flick of her wrist. But as soon as her eyes met yours, you felt the air shift. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, and instantly made you sit up straighter in bed, pressing your back against the headboard.

Was this Sunghoon’s mother?

The question popped into your mind, but the answer came without you having to ask. Her next words confirmed everything.

“So, you’re that girl,” she said, her voice clipped as her eyes flickered over you. It wasn’t even a question, more of a statement. You were that girl—the one her son had dragged into this mess. You shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, but somehow managed to muster some sarcasm.

“Yeah, the girl your son fractured the leg of,” you shot back, the words leaving your mouth with a little too much venom. But, realizing this was probably not the time for jokes, you cleared your throat.

The woman didn’t look amused. Instead, she merely hummed, clearly not interested in exchanging pleasantries.

“I’m here to talk,” she said flatly, ignoring your tone entirely. Her eyes, sharp as ever, stayed fixed on you, not even bothering with an introduction. You could hear some faint commotion outside the room, likely the nurses eavesdropping, curious about the sudden appearance of such an elegant woman.

“Okay…” you replied, scratching the back of your neck nervously, your mind already racing. What could she possibly want?

Without a hint of hesitation, Sunghoon’s mother stepped closer to your bed, pulling something out of her bag—a cheque. She laid it on your blanket-covered lap with a kind of quiet authority that made it clear this wasn’t a negotiation.

“Take this,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “And leave my son.”

You blinked, staring at the cheque in disbelief. Was this really happening? It felt like a scene ripped straight out of a cheesy drama. Your mouth opened to respond, but before you could, she continued, her tone icy and business-like.

“If the media says anything, tell them the two of you broke up because of something you did.”

The words hit you like a slap. So this was it, huh? A payoff. A quick exit plan for the inconvenience you had become. Without thinking, you picked up the cheque. Shamelessly, even. You weren’t going to pretend like you weren’t curious. Your eyes widened slightly as you glanced at the amount.

It was a lot.

Enough to cover an expensive surgery. Heck, enough to completely change your life—your face, your identity. Maybe even start fresh. Your heart raced for a moment, but then a sneaky idea popped into your head. Maybe you could push this a little further.

“I can’t take this,” you muttered, putting on your best ‘reluctant’ act. You hoped it came off as genuine, like you were too noble to accept a bribe. You glanced up at her from under your lashes, waiting to see her reaction.

For a split second, her eyes narrowed, and then—without a word—she reached into her bag again, pulling out another cheque. This one was double the amount of the first.

Your internal grin nearly split your face in two.

“I’ll take it,” you replied immediately, the words leaving your mouth faster than you could process them. You grabbed the second cheque, abandoning any pretense of hesitation. This was too good to pass up. Who cared about Sunghoon? You weren’t even his girlfriend. You didn’t owe him anything, and this was way too much money to let go.

Sunghoon’s mother arched a brow, a small smirk curling at the corner of her lips. “You’re smart,” she said, her voice dripping with a patronizing kind of approval. Before you could even react, she patted your head like you were some kind of obedient puppy. The gesture made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to stay still, biting back the urge to snap at her.

With that, she turned and strode out of the room, her heels clicking against the tiled floor in a rhythm that oozed confidence and control. You watched her leave, the door closing with a soft click behind her.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the distant chatter outside the door. You glanced down at the cheques in your hands, the weight of them sinking in.

You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. This was it. After years of living in that godforsaken orphanage, of scraping by, of enduring the endless bullying—you were finally getting a break.

Who knew a fractured leg could be this profitable? If this was what came from one little accident, maybe getting hit again wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

At least you knew one thing for sure: money beats boys. Every time.

YOU EXPECTED TO NEVER SEE SUNGHOON EVER AGAIN. In fact, you had made peace with it—or, at least, you thought you had. But that didn’t stop the daily ritual that had developed between you, Wonyoung, and Hanni.

They sat on either side of your hospital bed, a swirl of indignation and venom, bitching relentlessly about the guy who had caused all of this—Sunghoon.

At least you had your friends. They were here, taking time out of their lives to be by your side, and if that wasn’t love, you didn’t know what was. Wonyoung sat perched on the edge of the hospital bed, her legs crossed with effortless grace, while Hanni lounged at the foot of your bed, absently stroking your hair like you were a cat. They had barely paused for breath since they’d walked into the room, diving headfirst into their favorite topic: how much they despised Sunghoon.

"I mean, the guy just fractures your leg and disappears without so much as a note?" Wonyoung scoffed, her voice dripping with disbelief as she flung her arms in the air like she wanted to strangle him. She shot you a look that said how could you have possibly put up with this idiot?

“And let’s not forget,” Hanni added, leaning forward conspiratorially as if Sunghoon might somehow hear them through the walls, “he’s probably just out there living his little rich boy life while you’re stuck in here, waiting for your leg to heal.”

She shook her head in disgust, fingers still lightly grazing your scalp. “Rich bastards are always like this,” she muttered under her breath, giving you a soft pat like she was reassuring you that you weren’t alone in your suffering.

You could feel a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, watching the two of them fuel each other’s fire. Neither of them had actually met Sunghoon, but they hated him with the burning passion of a thousand suns, and honestly, it was kind of hilarious to watch.

“I know, right? Like, how dare he?” Wonyoung continued, practically vibrating with indignation. “Does he think just because he’s rich and pretty, he can just act like that and not have any consequences?”

Her eyes narrowed, lips pulling into a thin line, as she mimicked slapping someone in the air. “If I ever see him, I swear to god I’m going to knock some sense into that stupid, spoiled—”

“Oh, please,” Hanni interrupted with a snort. “If you ever saw him, you'd probably get distracted by how disgustingly handsome he is and forget all about punching him.”

Wonyoung blinked at her, feigning innocence. “Me? Never. I’m immune to pretty boys.”

“Sure.” Hanni teased, rolling her eyes. “Tell that to your last crush.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at their bickering, the sound surprising you. It was strange how comforting their presence was, even though all they seemed to do was rip into Sunghoon. Not that you minded, of course. They were right—he deserved it. Completely.

…Right?

You listened as they went back and forth, each taking turns trashing him for his ghosting act. The more they bitched, the more venomous their words became, but somewhere deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a small, annoying tug of… something else.

Sure, you hated Sunghoon. You absolutely detested him. He had caused this whole mess, fractured your leg, and then vanished into thin air without so much as a “Sorry, hope you’re doing okay.” The guy didn’t even have the decency to send flowers. Who does that?

But… still. A part of you—a very, very tiny part—missed him. Even though he was infuriating. Even though he’d probably caused you more stress than anyone else in your life. You couldn’t shake the strange pang of absence, the way the hospital room felt oddly emptier without him awkwardly hovering around like your personal nurse. Maybe it was the fact that, for a few fleeting moments, you’d been able to annoy the hell out of him and enjoy watching him fumble over basic hospital tasks. There was a twisted kind of satisfaction in making a guy like him—a spoiled, oblivious rich boy—take care of you.

But more than that, you missed having someone to direct your frustration at. As much as you enjoyed watching Wonyoung and Hanni tear him to shreds on your behalf, it wasn’t quite the same.

“Seriously, though,” Hanni said, dragging you out of your thoughts, “I bet he’s out at some fancy restaurant right now, eating caviar or whatever rich people eat, without a single thought about you.”

Wonyoung huffed, leaning back on her elbows. “Probably. You know, I bet he’s never even eaten instant ramen. Can you imagine?”

You snorted. “Yeah, because the moment he tastes anything less than five-star cuisine, his delicate palate might collapse.”

Wonyoung laughed, but then her expression grew more serious. “It’s just messed up, though. He leaves you here to rot, and for what? Did he even like you?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light. “Who knows? I think I was just a… distraction for him.”

“That’s even worse,” Hanni said, crossing her arms. “Honestly, you should’ve asked for more when his mom came by with that cheque. They owe you a hell of a lot more than just money after all this.”

Wonyoung’s eyes widened. “Wait, his mom came here? And gave you money?”

“Oh, right. I forgot to mention that part,” you said, suppressing a grin as you leaned back against your pillow. “Yeah, his mom basically bribed me to stay away from him. Two cheques, actually.”

Hanni’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” you replied, the grin breaking free. “Apparently, I was such a nuisance that she wanted to pay me off to disappear from Sunghoon’s life for good.”

Wonyoung let out a low whistle. “Damn. You should’ve held out for a third cheque.”

“Honestly,” Hanni added, shaking her head in disbelief. “Rich people are something else.”

You laughed, a bit more genuinely this time, as they continued to bitch about Sunghoon and his high-society family. But despite the humor and the camaraderie, there was still that nagging feeling. That tiny, irritating itch in the back of your mind.

You didn’t miss him—not exactly. But maybe, just maybe, you missed the chaos that came with him. And, unfortunately, chaos had a way of finding its way back.

You just didn’t know it yet.

“Woah, I didn’t expect you to bad bitch about me the second I disappear,” came a familiar voice from the doorway, smooth and dripping with sarcasm. You didn’t even have to turn your head to know who it was. The all-too-familiar dramatic hurt expression was already imprinted in your mind—the same one Sunghoon wore whenever he wanted to be the center of attention, which was, frankly, all the time.

You snapped your head in his direction, and there he was—leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed as if he hadn't just walked in unannounced, with that smug smirk plastered on his ridiculously perfect face. His brows were raised in mock disbelief, his lips twisted into an amused pout, as if he'd caught you red-handed in the act of a crime. How dare you talk about me when I’m not here? his expression screamed. But it wasn’t just that. No. Sunghoon looked… annoyingly good.

The worst part? He knew it.

Hanni and Wonyoung, who had been enthusiastically leading the charge in your anti-Sunghoon crusade just moments ago, froze mid-rant, their jaws practically hitting the floor. The air thickened with awkward tension, the kind that made your stomach do a weird flip. You glanced at your friends, fully expecting them to keep up the bitching. Surely, they wouldn’t back down now—not after all the trash-talking they’d just unleashed on his name, right? But when you turned to look at them, all you saw were wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

Wait a minute. Were they… shy?

Hanni was the first to break. Her voice, usually sharp and unfiltered, faltered as she stared at Sunghoon like he had descended from the heavens. “Were we talking about him?” she whispered under her breath, as if you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes cursing his existence. She blinked, clearly taken aback by his presence. So handsome, so— you could practically hear her thoughts scrambling for coherence.

Wonyoung, on the other hand, was shamelessly gawking. Gone was the fire-breathing dragon ready to rip Sunghoon to shreds. Instead, she was wide-eyed, as if she’d never seen a human so beautiful in her life. “Uh…” She trailed off, her brain short-circuiting under his gaze. So much for being immune to pretty boys.

You huffed, rolling your eyes at their sudden change of demeanor. Traitors.

Before you could say anything, Sunghoon took a leisurely step into the room, his presence practically swallowing the space whole. “Your mom told me to stay away from you,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at him in the hopes that it would somehow send him running for the hills. As if mentioning his mother would magically undo his annoying existence. “And by the way,” you added, “I’m not giving that money back. No way.”

Sunghoon’s smirk only widened, the infuriating bastard. “Well, yeah,” he said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather, “she told you to stay away from me, but I’m still allowed to stay close to you. You’re not the one initiating this.” He shrugged, as if his logic was sound and you were the one being difficult.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. What? You actually had to tilt your head back to process that nonsense. Was he serious? You blinked, glanced up at the ceiling as if the answer to his ridiculous statement might be written up there, and then back at him.

He wasn’t joking.

You were about to retort—about to remind him just how absurd that sounded—when you glanced at your two supposed best friends, expecting them to jump in and tear him a new one. But instead, they were still sitting there, suddenly very preoccupied with… being shy? Their gazes darted anywhere but at Sunghoon, as if he was some untouchable, otherworldly figure they couldn’t dare criticize anymore.

You scoffed under your breath. Unbelievable.

“Well…” You tried to gather your thoughts, but before you could finish, Hanni shifted beside you—by accident, of course—and her elbow brushed against your injured leg. Pain shot through your body, and you winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “Ow!”

Immediately, Sunghoon was at your side, crossing the room in a flash, his expression now serious as he kneeled beside you, his hands hovering over your injured leg. “Are you okay? Let me see.”

Your instinct was to push him away—to tell him to back off and leave you alone. The last thing you needed was him fussing over you like he actually cared. But you were injured, and Sunghoon had the upper hand—literally. His fingers gently pressed against your leg, checking to see if you were in pain, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop him. You tried to shove him off, but he was stronger, and your body wasn’t exactly in fighting shape.

“Stop—” you muttered, but your voice was weak. And, truthfully, despite how much you hated him, you let him check because… well, he was good at it. Annoyingly good.

Hanni, meanwhile, had the audacity to mutter under her breath, “Should’ve brought popcorn. This is hella interesting.” She shot you a guilty look, clearly aware that she’d caused the whole thing by bumping into your leg, but that didn’t stop her from thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding right before her eyes.

Wonyoung, who had somehow recovered from her stunned silence, leaned back and muttered, “Right.” She was watching the whole scene play out like she was stuck in the middle of some romantic comedy, her eyes darting between you and Sunghoon like she was waiting for the inevitable kiss scene.

“Weren’t you two on the #hatehim team?” you hissed, glaring at both of them as Sunghoon finally pulled back, satisfied that your leg wasn’t worse off than before.

Wonyoung blinked innocently, already gathering her things. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah,” Hanni added with a shrug, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. “We’re just, uh… neutral parties.”

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, they both stood, gathered their bags, and exchanged quick looks like they had just silently agreed on something. In unison, they made their way to the door, Wonyoung gesturing for Hanni to follow her like they were in some secret mission.

“Wait—are you leaving?!” you called after them, your voice laced with disbelief.

Hanni flashed you an apologetic smile, but her feet didn’t stop moving. “We’ll see you later! Good luck!”

With that, the two of them excused themselves, slipping out of the room like nothing had happened, leaving you alone with Sunghoon. You blinked after them, incredulous. They had changed their minds way too fast. How the hell did that even happen? Just ten minutes ago, they had been ripping Sunghoon apart, and now? Now they were acting like he was some kind of romantic hero who had fallen from the stars to sweep you off your feet.

You sighed, sinking back against your pillow.

But even as you stared at the door, trying to figure out how your two best friends had suddenly betrayed you, the nagging worry crept back into your mind. The cheques. You couldn’t help but glance at Sunghoon out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he would tell his mom about this little reunion. You would kill him if the money got taken back.

And just like that, Sunghoon was once again at the center of your frustrations—always, always causing trouble.

THE FACT THAT THE SUNGHOON — the only son of Park Corporation—had re-entered your life wasn’t exactly a secret, nor did it stay hidden from the one person who mattered most: his mother. There was no way she’d let this slide. And just as you predicted, not long after Sunghoon's unexpected return, his mother showed up at your hospital room door once again, this time with backup.

And by backup, you meant Sunghoon's older cousin brother, Jay. A man whose only crime, as far as you could tell, was being related to the Park family. If Sunghoon was infuriating, Jay seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. His discomfort radiated off him like a bad cologne—too strong, and kind of pitiful. His eyes darted nervously around the room, like he was scared to make eye contact with you. Honestly, you weren’t even sure if he knew why he was there.

Mrs. Park nudged him sharply, her manicured nails digging into his arm. “Tell her,” she hissed, clearly fed up with his lack of initiative.

Jay, however, looked more like he was preparing for a high school speech than an intimidating favor-demanding confrontation. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked down at his palm, probably reciting some mental script he had prepared on the way here, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Uh… so…”

You raised an eyebrow. Was this really happening? The Park Corporation sent this guy? This was their best shot at trying to intimidate you? First, Sunghoon barges into your life like a hurricane, and now his cousin shows up, looking like he’s one deep breath away from fainting. Honestly, you felt bad for Mrs. Park. How did she expect these two to run a massive conglomerate? You stifled a laugh, pity almost bubbling up in your chest.

Before Jay could stumble through another word, though, the door burst open, and in walked the person you least wanted to see. Of course. Of course Sunghoon had perfect timing. He always seemed to show up when things were about to get interesting, like some messed-up alarm system that detected whenever you were about to make some extra cash off his family’s dramatics. You barely blinked before he was standing there, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe as if he hadn’t just barged in.

“Jay,” Sunghoon muttered, his tone heavy with disappointment, “You too?”

Jay immediately straightened up, as if trying to salvage what little pride he had left. “Your mom asked me to. Trust me, I didn’t want to do this.” He stepped back, throwing his hands up as though he were surrendering to the inevitable.

Sunghoon’s mother, however, had zero patience for this nonsense. She let out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to her temple as if dealing with two grown men acting like toddlers was giving her a migraine. “What else could I do when my son is wasting his time on this?” She waved a hand in your direction, as though you were an unpleasant distraction from Sunghoon’s otherwise charmed life. Her voice dripped with irritation, as though you were personally responsible for ruining her perfectly laid plans.

You paused mid-bite, glancing at her with an amused smirk. She had brought her son’s cousin to what? Scare you? Threaten you into backing off? You leaned back against the pillows on your hospital bed, casually spearing another piece of the expensive meal Sunghoon had brought you earlier. A luxurious spread, by the way. How thoughtful. You chewed slowly, savoring both the food and the unfolding chaos in front of you. It was like watching a soap opera, but better, because it was real. And because you were the center of it.

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, visibly annoyed by his mother’s theatrics. “This again? Seriously, Mom?” His gaze flickered toward Jay, who was doing his best to blend into the wallpaper. “You got Jay involved in this?”

“He didn’t have a choice,” Mrs. Park snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. She stood in the middle of the room, clearly expecting to command the entire situation with her presence alone. “I can’t just stand by while you throw away your future on—” She glanced at you with disdain, the kind only a Park could muster. “This girl.”

You snorted, taking another bite of food. “This girl is sitting right here, you know.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked to you, briefly softening in what might have been sympathy—or maybe annoyance. Hard to tell. Either way, he turned back to his mother, exasperation bleeding into his voice. “I’m not ‘throwing away’ anything. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

His mother wasn’t having it. “You’ve been running around for days, ignoring your responsibilities for this… this situation!” She gestured dramatically toward you as if you were some scandalous tabloid headline.

You set down your fork and raised an eyebrow. “It’s cute that you think you can still control him.”

Sunghoon gave you a look that screamed you’re not helping.

Mrs. Park glared at her son, then at you, her lips pressing into a thin line. “This isn’t about control,” she said icily, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “It’s about ensuring you don’t ruin your life over some impulsive decision.”

Jay, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. He kept glancing between the three of you, clearly regretting every single decision that led him here. He took a step back, slowly edging toward the door, clearly hoping no one would notice him escaping.

“Oh, no you don’t,” you said, your voice teasing but firm, “You’re part of this mess now, Jay.”

His eyes widened in mild panic. “I—I don’t—”

But before he could defend himself, Sunghoon’s mother cut in, “Jay, tell her.” She prodded him again, practically pushing him into the spotlight.

Jay rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around the room like he was looking for an exit. “Uh, look, I… I don’t really want to do this, but…” He paused, throwing an apologetic look your way, “Can you just… maybe think about backing off? Just… consider it? For me?” His voice was pleading, clearly not cut out for this whole intimidation thing.

Sunghoon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this entire situation was giving him a migraine. “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” His mother snapped. “You’re wasting your time. There are other priorities for someone in your position.”

Sunghoon’s patience was clearly wearing thin, his jaw tightening as he responded. “You keep saying that. But you’re not listening to me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, low and quiet, as you continued to enjoy the spectacle. The three of them—Sunghoon, his mom, and Jay—bickering like some dysfunctional family sitcom, while you sat back, fully immersed in your gourmet meal.

“This is better than TV,” you muttered to yourself, watching as they tried to one-up each other.

Mrs. Park shot you a death glare, but you just smiled back innocently, because really, what was she going to do? Take your meal away?

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked toward you again, and for a moment, there was a hint of something softer in his expression. Frustration, maybe. Or something that bordered on concern. He opened his mouth to say something, but Jay, finally finding his courage, jumped in again.

“You know,” Jay said, sounding more desperate than threatening, “this would all be easier if we just… moved on. You know?”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “Easier for who?”

Jay hesitated, clearly realizing he was in over his head. His shoulders slumped, clearly realizing that he wasn’t getting out of this alive—figuratively, at least. His eyes darted back and forth between you and Sunghoon, probably weighing whether it was safer to keep talking or to just bolt. He ended up choosing the safer route: silence.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was far from done. His gaze sharpened as he turned toward his mother, who was glaring at him with the ferocity only a woman scorned by her own son could muster.

“I’m serious, Mom,” Sunghoon said, voice tense but controlled. “You can’t keep barging into my life like this. It’s not going to work.”

Mrs. Park scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “I barged into your life? Are you kidding me, Sunghoon? You’re the one who keeps throwing everything away for… for her,” she spat, pointing an accusing finger in your direction.

You almost choked on your food but managed to swallow it down, raising your hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, hey. Don’t drag me into this. I’m just eating.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked back to you for a moment, his expression softening. It was brief, but there was something almost apologetic in his eyes before he looked back at his mother.

“Whatever you think is going on here, it’s not what you think,” Sunghoon said, his voice taut with frustration. “I’m not ‘throwing anything away.’”

Mrs. Park’s jaw tightened, her nostrils flaring as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re wasting your time, Sunghoon. You should be focusing on the company, your future, not this… whatever this is.”

She waved a dismissive hand in your direction, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. You weren’t exactly a fan of being treated like some pesky side project Sunghoon needed to get rid of, but the whole situation was too ridiculous to take seriously.

“So, what,” you said, leaning back in your bed, eyes flicking between the three of them, “You’re all here to—what? Threaten me? Make me back off? Because I gotta be honest, this isn’t working.” You gestured toward Jay, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, and Mrs. Park, who was glaring daggers at you.

Sunghoon’s mother took a step forward, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “I’m not here to play games with you, girl. I’m here to ensure my son’s future. You’re nothing but a distraction.”

“Ouch,” you muttered, feigning hurt. “You really know how to make someone feel special.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated with the whole ordeal. “Mom, you’re not helping. Just… stop, okay?”

“Helping?” Mrs. Park echoed incredulously, as though the very idea was laughable. “You think I’m not helping by trying to save your future from her?”

You were starting to get a little irritated, even if the whole situation was more laughable than threatening. “Look, I don’t know what fantasy land you’re living in, but Sunghoon is the one who came to me. Not the other way around. If you’re so worried about his future, maybe start with him.”

Sunghoon gave you a look that said please stop fanning the flames, but you were past caring at this point. You’d had enough of this woman coming into your life and treating you like you were some common gold-digger. She didn’t know the half of it.

His mother, however, seemed immune to reason. She shot her son a glare. “You’re throwing your life away, Sunghoon. I raised you better than this.”

And finally, something in Sunghoon snapped. His usually calm demeanor cracked as he stepped forward, his voice low and sharp. “No, what you did was control my entire life. And guess what? I’m done. I’m not a kid anymore, and I don’t need you micromanaging every decision I make.”

His mother’s eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting this outburst. Even Jay looked taken aback, his mouth opening slightly in surprise.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest. This was getting good.

“Sunghoon—”

“No, Mom. Stop,” Sunghoon cut her off, his voice unwavering. “You’re not doing this because you care about me. You’re doing this because you care about your image. About the company’s image.”

His mother recoiled as though she’d been slapped, her perfectly manicured nails curling into fists at her sides. “How dare you—”

“How dare I?” Sunghoon laughed bitterly. “You’ve been treating me like a business deal my whole life, Mom. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

The room fell silent, the tension so thick you could practically feel it pressing down on your chest. Sunghoon’s mother stood frozen in place, her face a mixture of fury and shock.

Jay, sensing the growing hostility, started inching toward the door again, but before he could make his grand escape, Mrs. Park turned to him, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Jay, we’re leaving.”

Jay practically tripped over his own feet in his eagerness to comply. He glanced at you briefly—an apologetic look that almost said sorry for the drama—before scurrying out of the room behind his aunt.

Mrs. Park paused in the doorway, turning to throw one last glare in your direction. “This isn’t over.”

You raised an eyebrow, nonchalantly taking another bite of your meal. “Looking forward to round two.”

She glared, and with a sharp turn, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed through the room, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than the bickering that had just taken place.

For a moment, neither you nor Sunghoon spoke. He stood there, still reeling from the argument, his jaw clenched, shoulders tense. You swallowed the last bite of your meal, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you glanced up at him.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence with a wry smile, “that was fun.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond at first, his eyes focused on the floor, as if trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair again. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice low.

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “For what?”

“For all of… this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the door where his mother and cousin had exited. “I didn’t think it would get this bad.”

You shrugged, leaning back against the pillows. “I’m used to it. Your mom’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Sunghoon muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small, humorless smile.

A beat of silence passed between you, the tension slowly dissolving now that the storm had passed. But there was still something unspoken lingering in the air, something that felt heavier than the drama with his mother.

You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “So… what now?”

Sunghoon hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at you. For the first time, there was no sarcasm, no playful banter. Just the weight of everything unsaid between the two of you.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw. “But I do know one thing.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his tone firm, his eyes locked on yours. “No matter what she says. No matter what anyone says.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his voice, but you kept your expression neutral, not wanting to give anything away. “That sounds like a lot of trouble for nothing.”

Sunghoon stood by the edge of your hospital bed, arms crossed over his chest, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the room as the dim light from the ceiling flickered slightly. His gaze was a mix of disbelief and frustration, but there was an edge of something softer, something unreadable, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or get defensive at your latest jab.

"Anyways, aren't you the heir?" You muttered, the words slipping out casually as you fiddled with the blanket, your tone attempting to sound neutral. But deep down, you knew exactly what you were doing. Trying to reason with Mrs. Park—despite her endless insults—wasn’t out of some newfound respect for her. No, this was a survival tactic. Sunghoon might equal trouble, but his mother? She was the gateway to all those fat cheques. You knew better than to entirely burn that bridge, even if it was hanging by a thread.

Sunghoon raised a brow at you, clearly not expecting the sudden change in direction. "You think she's worried about me?" he scoffed, almost incredulous.

You shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to meet his gaze for too long. "I just think… maybe she's concerned about your future," you muttered, your words laced with an attempt to seem logical, though your true motive lay elsewhere. You tugged the hospital blanket tighter around your legs, which still ached from the accident. A small price to pay for someone like him smashing into you.

He leaned against the wall, his stance casual but his expression anything but. "Future?" Sunghoon repeated, almost bitterly. He huffed before muttering under his breath, "I'm a racer."

You nearly choked on your own breath at that. A racer. The very notion of it was absurd, especially given how he ended up here with you in the hospital in the first place.

"No wonder she's worried." The words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice barely audible, but loud enough for him to catch. You glanced at him through the corner of your eye, noticing how his expression morphed from mild irritation to downright disbelief.

“What do you mean, ‘no wonder she’s worried’?” He demanded, straightening up, arms uncrossing as he took a step closer to you, like you’d just accused him of being some criminal mastermind.

You didn’t even try to stifle the small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "Come on, Sunghoon. Let’s be real for a second. You're not exactly... the best driver." You gestured lazily towards your leg, which was propped up in a cast. “Even on a motorbike, you managed to get my leg broken.”

He let out a deep sigh, frustration evident in the way he rolled his eyes, muttering, “Shut up,” under his breath, though the edges of his lips twitched upwards for a second. He hated that you had a point. But there was no real venom in his words, just mild annoyance, the kind that came from knowing someone had you cornered.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze drifting from you to the small bouquet of flowers on the side table, then back to you. His posture screamed discomfort, as if he wasn’t used to being in such close proximity to his own vulnerability. After a long pause, he finally asked the question you’d been dodging for a while now, his voice dipping into something almost concerned. “But why were you drunk, though? I mean, they found alcohol in your tests that day."

Your breath hitched for a moment, but you quickly waved it off, eyes flicking away to avoid his gaze. "I just had a bad day, okay?" The words came out a little too quickly, a little too defensive, and you knew it wasn’t the full story. But the last thing you wanted was to dive into your own mess, especially not with him.

Sunghoon didn’t push further, his gaze softening slightly, but he wasn't one to leave a conversation dangling for too long. “Why were you speeding, though?” You shot back, raising an eyebrow in return. If he was going to dig into your mess, you had every right to poke at his.

The corner of his mouth twitched nervously as he chuckled, his usual bravado faltering for a split second. You knew something was up. Sunghoon never got nervous. Not like this.

"Well..." he started, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, his eyes darting away from you, unable to maintain eye contact for too long.

“Well?" You pressed, folding your arms across your chest as you waited for whatever ridiculous excuse he had to offer.

Sunghoon let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh. "My dad saw me riding," he muttered. "So I was kinda in a hurry."

For a second, you just stared at him, blinking in disbelief. "That’s it?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief. "Your dad saw you riding, and that made you speed? You didn't even bother to stop when you crashed into me?”

He fidgeted slightly, clearly uncomfortable under your scrutinizing gaze, but he shrugged helplessly. "I didn’t see you, okay? I was too busy trying to avoid him."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, sinking back into your pillows with a sigh. “That's it? And here I thought you were doing drug deals or something.”

The sarcasm in your voice was unmistakable, though you couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous this whole situation had turned out to be. For someone who was supposedly the heir to a powerful corporation, Sunghoon had a way of complicating the most straightforward situations.

He blinked at you in disbelief, the tips of his ears turning red. "What? Drug dealing? Really?" he muttered, crossing his arms again as he leaned against the bed frame, clearly not impressed by your comment. But his reaction only made you grin wider.

You shrugged, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean, with how secretive you’ve been acting, who could blame me for assuming the worst?”

Sunghoon huffed, shaking his head in mild exasperation, though the ghost of a smile lingered on his face. "Trust me, my life is complicated enough without any of that.”

“Complicated, huh?” you echoed, your gaze drifting toward him. His posture had relaxed slightly, but there was still an air of frustration hanging between the two of you. You could tell there was more to the story, more that he wasn’t saying.

But you weren’t one to push, not when you had your own secrets buried deep.

You let the conversation die down after that, the room filled with a quiet sort of tension that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Sunghoon stayed by your side, despite everything, leaning against the frame of your bed as his eyes softened, watching you finish your meal with quiet focus. And for a moment, the tension between you eased, like the storm had passed, leaving behind a fragile calm.

But even in the silence, you couldn’t help but notice the small gestures—the way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the bedpost, the way his gaze lingered a little too long on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. There was something between you two, a line that neither of you wanted to cross, yet both kept flirting with.

And for the first time, the thought of it didn't scare you.

THE NEXT MORNING,

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the sterile white walls of the hospital room. The monotonous hum of the machines, the occasional beep from the heart monitor, and the muted footsteps of nurses outside became the background symphony of your stay. You blinked your eyes open slowly, your body stiff from yet another restless night, and as your vision adjusted, the familiar dull ache in your leg grounded you back into the reality you’d been living for the past few days.

BUT TODAY, SOMETHING WAS DIFFERENT.

As you shifted slightly, careful not to agitate the cast on your leg, your gaze fell to the chair beside your bed. There he was—Park Sunghoon, slouched in the chair with his head resting against the armrest, his mouth slightly parted as soft, steady breaths escaped his lips. His long legs were sprawled out in front of him, one arm draped lazily across his stomach while the other rested close to yours, mere inches from the side of your bed. The sight was enough to make your breath hitch.

He’d stayed. Again.

For days, he had made this hospital room his second home, despite the biting remarks and the cold distance that had defined your relationship thus far. As if it was some kind of duty he couldn’t escape, some obligation he had to fulfill for the sake of his reputation or his family. At least, that’s what you convinced yourself. There’s no way he actually cares.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder, especially in moments like this, when his face was stripped of its usual bravado, his guard completely down. He looked… peaceful. Innocent, even.

“If I didn’t know you were doing this for your reputation,” you murmured softly, barely above a whisper, “I would’ve thought you loved me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and laced with something unspoken, something you weren’t quite ready to confront. You didn’t mean for him to hear it—he was asleep, after all—but there was a strange comfort in voicing the thought aloud, even if only to yourself.

You found yourself leaning a little closer, the distance between your bed and the chair barely enough to separate you two. Your fingers moved almost of their own accord, hesitating at first, before gently tracing the sharp line of his jaw. His skin was warm under your touch, soft despite the cold exterior he often portrayed. Your heart gave a nervous flutter as your finger ghosted over the delicate curve of his cheek, down to the bridge of his nose, and finally stopping at his lips.

Your breath caught as you stared at them—soft, slightly parted, and so close. There was something about this moment that felt dangerously intimate, a line you weren’t sure you should be crossing. But before you could pull away, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and firm, halting your retreat.

Your heart stilled, the world suddenly reduced to the quiet space between the two of you. Sunghoon's eyes fluttered open slowly, his lashes casting faint shadows across his cheeks. He blinked once, twice, before his sleepy gaze focused on you, still hazy with the remnants of sleep. His grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly, but not enough to hurt—just enough to keep you from escaping.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and raspy from sleep, the kind of voice that sent shivers down your spine. His words hung in the air, thick with confusion but also curiosity, as if he wasn’t entirely sure whether to be offended or amused.

Your mind scrambled for an explanation, anything to diffuse the tension suddenly filling the room. "There was a mosquito," you blurted out, your voice barely steady, attempting to sound casual as you tugged on your wrist, but he didn’t let go.

His brow arched in suspicion, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "A mosquito… on my lips?” he questioned, the incredulity in his tone barely masked by amusement. He pushed himself up from the chair, his hand still holding yours, and in a fluid motion, he was leaning over the side of the bed, closer—much closer—than he had any right to be.

The proximity was suffocating. You could feel his breath fan across your face, warm and steady, each exhale sending a fresh wave of heat across your skin. His dark eyes, still half-lidded with sleep, were locked onto yours, and for a split second, you forgot how to breathe. The space between you was so small, so intimate, you could practically hear the rapid beat of your own heart pounding in your ears.

Your face flushed crimson, the heat crawling up your neck as if you’d been caught doing something far worse than tracing his face. You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert, every muscle tensing under his intense gaze. "There… was something in my eye," you stammered, quickly averting your gaze as you finally pulled your hand away from his grip, your fingers trembling slightly as they found refuge behind your palms. You could feel the burn of embarrassment creeping up, your hands covering your face as if that could somehow hide the fact that you were blushing furiously.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed entirely unfazed by your flustered state. He stood there for a moment longer, watching you with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something unreadable. He straightened up, stretching his arms above his head lazily, as if the moment that just passed was nothing more than a casual conversation.

But you knew better. There was something unspoken between you two, something that neither of you were ready to admit, but it lingered in the air, thick and undeniable.

"Something in your eye, huh?" he murmured, a teasing lilt to his voice as he glanced down at you, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead with a casual familiarity that sent another wave of heat rushing to your cheeks.

You peeked through your fingers, still hiding most of your face as you mumbled, "Shut up."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, the tension in the air eased, replaced by something lighter, something teasing but… comfortable.

But even as he turned away, walking towards the window to stretch his legs, the ghost of his touch still lingered on your skin, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—there was more to Sunghoon’s presence by your side than just reputation.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily as the midday sun spilled golden light into the hospital room, brightening the sterile white space that had become your temporary home. You sat on the edge of the bed, the nurse’s soft, encouraging voice still echoing in your ears after she had just removed your cast. The air felt electric with anticipation; you could finally walk again!

Sunghoon hovered by your side, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied you. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, but the seriousness behind it was unmistakable. You nodded enthusiastically, your heart racing with excitement. It felt like a monumental moment—like the first step of many to reclaiming your independence.

With the adrenaline coursing through you, you stood up, a determined grin stretching across your face. But as you took your first step, everything shifted dramatically. Your foot wobbled, and before you knew it, you were tumbling forward, hitting the floor with a thud that echoed around the room.

“Ugh!” you groaned, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you lay there, staring up at the fluorescent lights.

Sunghoon rushed forward, worry etched across his features, but before he could say anything, Wonyoung and Hanni burst into laughter, their giggles ringing like chimes through the room.

“Oh my god! Did you really just fall?” Hanni wheezed, nearly doubling over as she struggled to regain her composure.

“Looks like someone needs a little more practice!” Wonyoung added, her laughter infectious as she bent down to help you up, her hands extending towards you.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at yourself as they pulled you back to your feet. “Thanks, guys,” you mumbled, trying to hide your flushed cheeks.

As they waved goodbye, still chuckling, Sunghoon remained behind, a bemused expression on his face. “That was quite the entrance,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall, a playful glint in his eye.

“Shut up,” you retorted, trying to brush off your embarrassment as you plopped back onto the bed, sulking a little. “I’m still getting used to this.”

“Come on, you can’t let a little tumble discourage you!” Sunghoon grinned, stepping closer with a theatrical flourish. “I, Park Sunghoon, will be your walking coach! Let’s do this!” He mimicked a sports announcer, waving his arms as if hyping up a crowd. “And by the end of this session, you will be the champion of walking!”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. “I don’t need a coach. I just need to not fall again.”

“Too late for that! You’ve already set the bar pretty low,” he teased, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But don’t worry; I’ll help you reach new heights, or at least keep you from faceplanting again.”

With that, he extended his hand towards you, a gesture of encouragement. You hesitated for a moment, your heart fluttering as you met his gaze, but the absurdity of the situation was too much to resist. Taking a deep breath, you grasped his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

“Okay, Mr. Walking Coach. Show me the way,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

He positioned himself next to you, his grip firm yet gentle. “First lesson: Keep your center of gravity low. Think like a ninja! Light on your feet!”

You couldn’t help but snort at his ridiculousness, the tension of your earlier fall dissipating as you stood next to him. “Ninja? Really? You think I’m going to be stealthy when I can barely stand?”

“Exactly! You’re going to be a stealthy ninja who, like a graceful gazelle, glides across the floor!” he exclaimed, his arms gesturing dramatically as he took a step back to give you space.

With his comedic antics distracting you from your nerves, you took a tentative step forward, wobbling a bit but managing to keep your balance. “See? Look at me! I’m practically a gazelle!” you proclaimed with mock bravado, your voice tinged with sarcasm.

“Gorgeous! Absolutely majestic!” Sunghoon exclaimed, feigning applause as you took another step. “But you know, a gazelle might want to avoid falling on its face. You should really work on that.”

You shot him a glare, but a smile broke through your facade. “You’re such an idiot.”

“That’s why I’m here!” he laughed, inching closer again, still holding your hand to steady you. “Now, let’s go for round two. This time, no falling!”

With a deep breath, you focused on your balance, your heart racing not just from the thrill of standing but from the way his warm hand felt enveloping yours. You took another step, then another, Sunghoon’s encouraging words ringing in your ears, his steady presence anchoring you.

But with every shaky movement, reality set in. You were acutely aware of the gulf between the two of you—the wealth and expectations that surrounded his life, the disparity that loomed like a shadow over this moment of laughter and lightness. He was an heir, bound for greatness, while you felt like a mere accident in his world.

“Just a few more steps,” he encouraged, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he sensed your hesitation. “You’re doing great!”

With his support, you managed to make a few shaky strides, laughter bubbling up with each unsteady movement. “Maybe I’ll actually be able to walk out of here after all,” you joked, feeling lighter with each step.

“See? I told you! You’re going to be my ninja walking prodigy!” he laughed, his eyes bright with excitement.

But as the moment drew on, a bittersweet realization sank in. Once you were well enough to leave, his part in your story would fade into the background like a forgotten dream. You could already picture it—a world where he resumed his life, his responsibilities, leaving you behind like a chapter closed.

Yet here you were, the two of you intertwined in this moment, laughing and learning how to walk again, and for a fleeting second, you wished it could last just a little bit longer.

THE DAY HAD FINALLY COME,

THE ONE YOU DREADED MORE THAN ANYTHING.

Weeks had passed, and despite all the mental notes you made to remind yourself that this was temporary, you couldn’t shake the attachment you’d developed to Sunghoon. Maybe it was the routine, maybe it was the fact that he had been there every step of the way while you healed, or maybe, it was something else entirely—something more dangerous.

You watched from a distance as Sunghoon handled your final hospital bill. The cold sterility of the hospital didn’t bother you as much as the thought of walking out of it without him by your side. He paid the fees like he had promised from the start, his sleek credit card effortlessly handling the expenses that you knew would have financially crippled you otherwise.

You tried to convince yourself that this attachment, this gnawing feeling of loss before he even left, was simply because you had spent too much time with him. After all, you practically lived together for months. But even telling yourself that over and over again didn’t stop the sting behind your eyes, the prickling of tears that threatened to spill.

You took a deep breath and wiped them away quickly, just as you saw him walking towards you, his tall figure cutting through the hospital corridor with ease. His face was calm as usual, though his eyes held a quietness that made your chest tighten. You forced a smile, the same one you always gave him, but this time, it carried a weight of sadness you couldn’t shake.

At least Mrs. Park wasn’t here. You couldn’t imagine how much worse you’d feel with her scrutinizing every little move, every interaction, like she was tallying it up in some invisible ledger. But in this quiet space, where it was just you and Sunghoon, you started to believe that maybe… just maybe, he was worth more than the money she flaunted, more than the reputation you helped him protect.

He smiled back at you, but even that felt distant, as if the finality of this moment weighed on him too. His hand rested casually on your shoulder, the same way it had for the past few weeks, a gesture of familiarity that was once just for show in front of others, but now… now it felt different.

As you walked out of the hospital together, the flashing of cameras and the swarm of paparazzi waiting outside hit you like a tidal wave. They were here, of course they were. The media had been all over this—your fake relationship, the story of his girlfriend who nursed him back to health after an accident. None of them knew the truth. None of them knew that the only reason you were here was because of a fractured leg caused by that same accident. It had all been to protect him from public backlash, to clean up his image, to shield him from the criticism that would have followed.

But now, as his hand lingered on your shoulder longer than necessary, as he guided you through the crowd, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t fake at all. Not anymore.

The car ride back was filled with a silence that felt almost suffocating. You stared out of the window, watching the city blur by, your heart heavy with the realization that this was it. Your leg had healed, the bills were paid, and now Sunghoon was going to disappear from your life just as quickly as he had entered it.

You sighed, the sadness in your chest growing. This was it. The end of whatever this was, of whatever you had convinced yourself wasn’t real.

The car came to a stop at a quiet street, far from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. It wasn’t your home, not really—just the rented apartment you could barely afford. But it was where you were headed, and it was the place where Sunghoon would say goodbye.

You couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped your lips, filled with an aching sadness that even you couldn’t fully comprehend. It felt almost comedic, like the setup for some bad joke. The rich boy, the poor girl, the fake relationship—they always ended like this, right?

“You seem to not enjoy getting better,” Sunghoon’s voice broke the silence, his words light, almost teasing, but you could hear the undercurrent of something more.

You let out a short, bitter laugh, not even bothering to hide your emotions anymore. What was the point? “How could I enjoy it when it meant you would go away?” The words slipped out, raw and unfiltered, before you had a chance to stop them.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, his hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. The soft hum of the engine faded into the background as he turned to face you, his expression unreadable. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to understand the weight of your words.

And then, in one swift movement, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’ll always be there,” he whispered, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. “Wherever you are, in bad shape or sick, I’ll be there.”

“Why?” You barely recognized your own voice, so soft, so vulnerable, as if you were afraid of the answer.

His lips were so close now, his breath fanning across your skin, the space between you shrinking to almost nothing. He paused, giving you a chance to pull away, but when you didn’t, when you stayed frozen in place, his lips brushed against yours. It was barely a kiss, just the softest touch, like a promise not yet fully spoken.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, “Even when you get sick, I’ll be there. Waiting for you… to get well soon.”

His words were like a balm to your aching heart, but also a dagger to the fear you’d been holding inside. You felt a wave of emotions crash over you—relief, confusion, frustration, but above all, hope.

And just like that, everything between you shifted.

© senascoop | tumblr

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i’ll save you (again)

❝ held hostage again? y/n, at this point, maybe you should just write ‘live bait’ across your forehead. ❞

PAIRING ▸ jake sim x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, crack, angst, enemies to lovers, spider-man au, college au, journalist au, action, hurt/comfort

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, making out, depictions of violence, lee heeseung as venom, that one cute upside-down kiss, a few more kisses after that, playful banter, mc is failing chemistry (this is a plot point i swear) 

SUMMARY ▸ you’re one of new york city’s most well-known news reporters despite only being an intern; unfortunately, that’s a result of being constantly kidnapped and held hostage by an infamous supervillain. lucky for you, spider-man!jake is always at your rescue. what you don’t know, however, is that jake is also your very annoying coworker who can’t seem to leave you alone.

WORD COUNT ▸ 14,120 words

PLAYLIST ▸ i’m ready by jaden • jopping by superm • sunflower by post malone, swae lee • i think by tyler, the creator • invincible by aminé • 777 by joji • industry baby by lil nas x, jack harlow • stay alive by jungkook (prod. suga) (♡)

TAG LIST ▸ @mmsriza​ @fiantomartell​ @iconjaeyun​ @maknaechu​  @13isacoolnumber​ @from-xero​ @yangrden​ @acciomylove​ @sakuracoffe​ @nyujjan​ @honeyju​ @goldenhypen​ @bbanggami​ @lvsunq​ @msxflower​ @baekhyunstruly​ @mykalon​ @heelariously​ @hobistigma​ @simplyxlea​ @wntrsgf​ @person-standing​ @ja4hyvn​ @choibinn3 @bat-shark-repellant @fairyjjuniee @shmooooo @cheonsacheol @jaylaxies @dnyamight @danyxthirstae01 @notmangojuice @rae-blogging @ryuflix @lazycursedchild @killyoselff @luv3iza @stressed-but-still-a-kpop-blog @hotgirlsunoo @luvrjn @heysukecore​ @miedei​ @aeonghaseyo @90sni-ki @itsapapisongo​ @euphorecore​

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! some references + allusions to the spider-man movies in here <3 also, note that tycoon is a made-up villain but venom is in this !! thank you so much for checking out this fic! i hope you enjoy !! ♡ 

IF YOU KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO GET KIDNAPPED AGAIN, YOU WOULD HAVE AT LEAST PACKED SNACKS.

“Mr. Supervillain,” you complained, “do you really have to hang me upside down over the edge of a skyscraper?”

This was about your sixth or seventh time getting abducted, and you were starting to get sick of it.

Said supervillain, infamously known as Tycoon, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. The man had absolutely no interest in you, only using you as bait for luring in Spider-Man. You couldn’t understand his obsession with the superhero. It wasn’t like he got any satisfaction out of it considering Spider-Man kicked his ass every single time.

Keep reading

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