Lespoir () Jung Hoseok ()

l’espoir (희망) – jung hoseok (정호석)

✧.* 18+

cooking had always been more than just a necessity; it was an art form, an expression of emotion, culture, and memory. each dish was a canvas, and the ingredients were the paints, their vibrant colors and textures inviting the imagination to run wild. the kitchen, with its warm, ambient light and the comforting hum of the stove, became a sanctuary where creativity flowed freely.

the process began with the careful selection of ingredients, each one chosen with purpose and care. the rich, earthy scent of freshly picked herbs mingled with the sweet aroma of ripe tomatoes, their skins still glistening with the morning dew. the produce, with its natural imperfections, held a rustic beauty that promised authenticity. the meats, marbled and tender, were selected with an understanding of their unique qualities, each cut a potential masterpiece waiting to be realized.

as the knife danced across the cutting board, there was a rhythm to the motion, a graceful precision that came with years of practice. the crisp snap of a carrot giving way under the blade, the soft thud of a tomato being sliced, and the aromatic release of a garlic clove being crushed—each sound was a note in the symphony of preparation. the senses were fully engaged; the eyes, tracing the vibrant colors that slowly melded together; the nose, inhaling the complex layers of scents that hinted at the flavors to come; the ears, catching the subtle sizzles and crackles as the heat worked its magic.

the heat of the stove brought everything to life, transforming raw ingredients into something greater than the sum of their parts. the onions caramelized slowly, their sharpness mellowing into a deep, golden sweetness. the meats seared to perfection, a satisfying sizzle filling the air as the juices locked in, creating a rich, savory crust. sauces reduced in a patient dance of evaporation and intensification, their once separate flavors now blending into a harmonious whole.

every movement in the kitchen was deliberate, yet there was room for spontaneity, a sudden dash of spice, a last-minute decision to add a touch of lemon zest. cooking was an intuitive dance between tradition and innovation, where recipes handed down through generations met the creative impulses of the moment. It was in this balance that true culinary artistry was born, where the cook's soul was infused into each dish. plating the food was the final act, a chance to present the creation as a visual feast before it was consumed. the vibrant colors of the vegetables, the artful arrangement of proteins, and the careful drizzle of sauces—all were carefully considered to make the dish as pleasing to the eyes as it was to the palate. the plate was the frame, and the food, the artwork, each detail telling a story, each bite an experience.

cooking was more than a task to be completed; it was a journey, a way to communicate without words, to share a part of oneself with others. it was an act of love, a gesture of care, and a celebration of the simple yet profound joy of nourishment. in the kitchen, every dish was a story waiting to be told, a story crafted with the hands, guided by the heart, and shared with those who gathered around the table.

you had never thought much about cooking. it seemed like a mundane task, something that simply had to be done to keep hunger at bay. eggs and instant noodles had always sufficed, their simplicity mirroring your indifference. you often wondered why anyone would spend hours in the kitchen when a meal could be whipped up in minutes. the aroma of a slowly simmering stew or the sight of a beautifully arranged plate held little meaning for you. but that was before everything changed, before your mother fell ill.

her illness crept up slowly, stealing her strength bit by bit until the vibrant woman who had always filled your home with the scent of home-cooked meals could no longer stand for more than a few minutes. the kitchen, once her domain, grew silent, the once lively space now cold and empty. it was then that you realized how much you had taken those meals for granted, how much they had been a part of your life without you even noticing.

with your mother unable to cook for herself, you were thrust into a role you had never imagined. you could have continued with the instant noodles, could have resigned yourself to the blandness of quick and easy meals. but something inside you resisted. you saw the way your mother looked at the untouched pots and pans, the sadness in her eyes as she realized she could no longer provide for you in the way she always had. it was then that you decided to try, to step into the kitchen and see if you could recreate even a fraction of what she used to make.

at first, it was a struggle. you were clumsy, your hands unfamiliar with the rhythm of chopping, stirring, and seasoning. the internet became your guide, recipes your lifeline as you navigated this new world. you searched for dishes she loved, simple at first—soups, stews, anything that might bring her comfort. the first few attempts were far from perfect. you burnt the rice, overcooked the vegetables, and the seasoning was always slightly off. but your mother never complained. she would smile as she tasted each dish, her eyes softening with pride, even when you knew it wasn’t quite right.

as the days turned into weeks, you began to notice a change in yourself. the kitchen, once an alien landscape, started to feel familiar. you learned to savor the process, to enjoy the way ingredients came together to form something new, something that brought a smile to your mother’s face. the care you put into each meal became a form of expression, a way to show her how much you loved her, how much you wanted to take care of her as she had taken care of you.

with time, your confidence grew. you experimented more, tried new techniques, and even began to create your own dishes. your mother’s reactions fueled your passion; the way she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly after the first bite, the way she would eagerly ask what was on the menu for the day. cooking became more than just a duty—it became a way to connect with her, to bring her joy in a time when there was so little of it left.

when she passed, the loss was unbearable. the kitchen, once filled with purpose, became a place of grief. But instead of abandoning it, you found yourself drawn to it, almost as if by instinct. cooking became a way to keep her memory alive, a way to honor the woman who had taught you to love food, even if she hadn’t done so intentionally. each meal was a tribute to her, a way to thank her for introducing you to something that brought you peace, something that made you feel closer to her even though she was gone.

it wasn’t long before you decided to take your passion further. culinary school was an intimidating prospect, but you felt ready. you entered with the same trepidation you had felt when you first stepped into the kitchen, but also with the same determination. the instructors taught you the finer points of the craft, but you always added a piece of yourself into each dish, just as you had done when cooking for your mother. your ideas were met with curiosity and admiration. you presented dishes that reflected your journey, from the humble grilled squid stew that reminded you of your early experiments to the bold korean barbecue sandwiches that showcased your creativity and confidence. each dish was crafted with care, infused with the love and respect you had for the process. you passed the program not just because of your skill, but because of the heart you put into every plate.

cooking had become more than just a way to feed yourself or others; it had become a way to tell your story, to express who you were and where you came from. every time you stood in the kitchen, you felt her presence, guiding your hands as you chopped, stirred, and seasoned. and as you watched others enjoy the food you prepared, their smiles reminded you of her, of the way she had once smiled at you, and you knew that you had found something truly special.

when the opportunity for an internship at l’espoir presented itself, you felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity. you had been through so much already, from your first fumbling steps in the kitchen to the rigorous challenges of culinary school. and now, here you were, standing on the brink of something new. the name of the restaurant itself resonated with you in a way that felt almost fated. l’espoir. hope. it was a simple word, yet it carried such profound meaning, especially for someone like you, who had found in cooking the one thing that kept you grounded, the one thing that still made you happy.

you had nothing against the idea of working there—on the contrary, you were drawn to it. there was something poetic about the name, something that spoke to your soul. cooking had always been more than just a means of sustenance; it was your connection to your past, your way of honoring your mother, and the very essence of hope. so when you accepted the offer, it wasn’t with trepidation or reluctance, but with a quiet, simmering excitement. this, you thought, could be your fresh start.

the day you walked through the doors of l’espoir for the first time, the air was thick with the mingling aromas of herbs, garlic, and roasting meats. the kitchen was a hive of activity, yet it was orchestrated with the precision of a symphony. there was a rhythm to the place, a kind of dance that the chefs performed with their knives, pans, and ladles. the hiss of oil in a hot pan, the clatter of plates being set down, the low hum of focused conversation—all of it combined to create a world that was at once chaotic and harmonious.

the chef in charge was a figure of quiet authority. you had heard of chef jung before, his reputation preceding him like the fragrant bouquet of a well-seasoned broth. he was not known for being flamboyant or loud, but rather for his meticulous attention to detail, his ability to coax the most delicate flavors from even the simplest ingredients. his presence commanded respect, not through fear, but through the sheer weight of his expertise and the dedication he inspired in those who worked under him.

when you were introduced, he looked at you with eyes that seemed to assess everything in a single glance. he was attractive, with brown threads running through his dark hair, and his chef’s whites were as crisp and clean as the linens in the dining room. there was a calmness about him, a confidence that came from years of experience, but also a warmth that hinted at a genuine love for his craft. he extended a hand, his grip firm but not crushing, and welcomed you to his kitchen.

“bienvenue à l’espoir,” he said, his voice steady and rich. “i trust you’re ready to work.” you nodded, feeling the weight of the moment. it was the start of something new, something that could shape the course of your life. the kitchen was no longer just a place to cook; it was a stage, and you were about to step into a role that would challenge you in ways you couldn’t yet imagine.

you learned quickly that chef jung hoseok was not the warm, encouraging figure you had once imagined. there was an air of severity about him, a sharpness that seemed to permeate every corner of the kitchen. from the moment you set foot in l’espoir, you were acutely aware that this place was not a haven of creativity and shared passion but rather a crucible, designed to burn away anything that wasn’t absolute perfection. hoseok was at the center of it all, a man whose entire being seemed devoted to the pursuit of culinary excellence, and nothing else.

his presence was commanding, but not in the way that inspires admiration or loyalty. Instead, it instilled a sense of dread, a fear of making even the smallest mistake. he had a way of watching you, his gaze sharp and unyielding, that made you question every movement, every decision you made. there was no room for error in his kitchen, no margin for anything less than flawless execution. his standards were exacting, his expectations clear in the curt, precise way he delivered instructions. any hope you might have had for guidance or mentorship was quickly dashed—there, you were expected to perform, and to perform perfectly.

as you followed his directives, each task assigned with a precision that bordered on obsession, you felt the weight of his scrutiny. the kitchen, once a place of solace and creativity for you, had become a place of tension, where every clatter of a pan or slip of a knife carried the potential for rebuke. there was no room for error, no space for growth; only the relentless pursuit of perfection under hoseok’s watchful eye.

you were immersed in your work, the steady rhythm of chopping vegetables the only thing keeping your nerves at bay, when you felt a presence beside you. a girl had approached, her demeanor bright and friendly, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere that hoseok cultivated. she leaned in slightly, peering over your shoulder with a curious expression that quickly melted into a warm smile. “your knife skills are really impressive,” she remarked, her voice light and genuine, a welcome relief in the otherwise tense environment.

you glanced up, meeting her gaze with a slight smile of your own. it was the first bit of kindness you had encountered since stepping into this kitchen, and it was enough to ease some of the tension that had been building in your chest. “thank you,” you replied, your voice tinged with gratitude. as you spoke, you noticed the meticulously arranged assortment of seasonings at her station. wach jar and container was perfectly aligned, the spices within organized by color and texture, a testament to her own care and precision. “your seasonings are beautifully arranged,” you added, genuinely impressed by her attention to detail.

she beamed at the compliment, a touch of pride in her expression. “i like to keep them organized. it makes experimenting with flavors a lot easier when everything’s in its place.” there was something infectious about her enthusiasm, a brightness that seemed to push back the shadows that hoseok’s presence cast over the kitchen. it was a small comfort, but in that place, even the smallest comfort felt like a lifeline.

“i’m park chaeyoung, by the way,” she said, extending a hand to you in a gesture that felt almost old-fashioned in its sincerity. you took her hand, finding her grip warm and reassuring. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m—”

before you could finish your introduction, she cut you off with a knowing look. “have you met chef jung yet?” she asked, her tone more serious now, as if she was preparing you for something you hadn’t yet understood. you nodded, the memory of your brief, formal introduction still fresh in your mind. “yeah, he welcomed me and then put me straight to work.”

chaeyoung let out a soft, almost derisive laugh, shaking her head slightly. “rhat sounds like him. work is all he cares about.” her voice held a hint of bitterness, the kind that comes from experience, from seeing too much and saying too little. she hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully, before leaning in slightly closer. “you need to be careful around him.”

The warning was subtle, almost whispered, but it struck you with an unexpected force. there was something in her tone, a depth of concern that went beyond the usual advice given to new interns. you could feel the weight of her words, the implication that there was more to hoseok than just his stern demeanor and strict standards. “what do you mean?” you began, your curiosity piqued, but before she could respond, the sound of a door opening interrupted the moment.

you turned just in time to see hoseok emerge from his office, his presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone in the room. his expression was as unreadable as ever, his eyes scanning the kitchen with the precision of a hawk. every movement, every sound seemed to be registered, cataloged in his mind as he took stock of the ongoing work. there was a moment of stillness, the kitchen holding its collective breath as he surveyed the scene.

then his gaze locked onto one of the other cooks, a young woman named kim dahyun. she looked up at him, her face lighting up with a smile that was almost childlike in its adoration. it was as if his very presence was enough to make her day, her entire being focused on him as if nothing else mattered. “dahyun,” he said, his voice cutting through the air with the same precision as one of his knives. “come to my office.”

she practically leapt to her feet, her eagerness visible as she hurried over to him. there was something unsettling about the way she reacted to him, a kind of blind devotion that seemed out of place in a professional kitchen. she followed him into his office without a moment’s hesitation, the door closing behind them with a quiet finality. you couldn’t help but feel a chill run down your spine as you watched them go. there was something about the exchange that felt wrong, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. it wasn’t just the power dynamic at play—though that was certainly part of it—it was something more, something unspoken that lingered in the air long after they had disappeared from view.

chaeyoung’s voice broke through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to her. “do you see what i mean now?” she asked, her tone a mix of concern and resignation. there was a sadness in her eyes, a look that told you she had seen this play out before, that she knew where it would lead. but you shook your head, still unsure of what she was trying to convey. the confusion must have been evident on your face, because she sighed softly, her expression softening as she looked at you with a mixture of pity and understanding.

“you’ll find out soon enough,” she said quietly, her voice laced with a sorrow that made your heart sink. “just be careful. that’s all i’m saying.” with that, she turned back to her station, leaving you to grapple with the unease that had settled in your chest. the warmth and friendliness that had initially put you at ease were now overshadowed by a sense of foreboding, a feeling that there were things in this kitchen you had yet to understand, and that understanding them might cost you more than you were prepared to give.

the day had worn on relentlessly, each task blurring into the next until you lost track of time. the kitchen was a relentless machine, and you had been one of its many moving parts, a cog in the grand design orchestrated by chef jung. the relentless pace of service had demanded every ounce of your focus, leaving no room for distractions or second thoughts. each dish you plated, each garnish you placed, was an offering, a testament to the skill you had fought so hard to hone.

as the evening crept into night, the rush of orders began to slow, the once frantic energy in the kitchen tapering off into something quieter, more subdued. you found yourself still working, your hands moving on autopilot as you plated the last few dishes with the same care and precision you had started with. it wasn’t until you placed the final plate on the pass that you realized the noise had died down entirely.

you glanced around, noticing for the first time that the other chefs had finished their shifts and were long gone. the kitchen, once bustling with life, was now eerily silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the overhead lights and the faint clatter of pots and pans as you began to clear your station. you hadn’t even noticed that you were the last one standing, too absorbed in the rhythm of the work to register the passage of time.

with a quiet sigh, you began to return the ingredients to their proper places, meticulously ensuring that everything was as it should be. your movements were slow, almost practiced, as the exhaustion of the day finally began to catch up with you. every muscle in your body ached, but there was a certain satisfaction in knowing that you had made it through your first day unscathed—or so you thought.

as you turned around to grab the plates from the counter, your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. there, standing in the dim light of the kitchen, was hoseok. he was so still, so silent, that you hadn’t noticed him at all, and the shock of his sudden presence nearly made the plates slip from your hands. you caught them just in time, fumbling slightly as you tried to regain your composure. his expression was unreadable, the same stoic mask he had worn all day. there was a heaviness in the air, a palpable tension that made your breath hitch in your throat. “chef jung,” you managed to say, your voice betraying the nervousness that you had tried so hard to keep at bay. “did you need anything?”

for a moment, he said nothing, simply observing you with that intense, unwavering gaze that you were beginning to find so unsettling. then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “you did a good job today,” he said, his tone flat, almost devoid of emotion. it was the closest thing to praise you had received all day, and yet it felt strangely hollow. you nodded, a nervous laugh escaping you as you turned back to put away the plates and tidy up what was left on the counter. your hands moved quickly, more out of a desire to escape the uncomfortable silence than anything else. but no matter how fast you worked, you could still feel his eyes on you, that penetrating stare that seemed to see through every facade you tried to put up.

it wasn’t until you heard the soft, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps that you realized he was moving closer. slowly, deliberately, he approached, each step measured and precise, like a predator closing in on its prey. the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, a sense of dread settling over you as you continued to work, pretending not to notice how close he was getting. but then, before you knew it, he was right in front of you, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the kitchen. you froze, your hands stilling as the tension between you reached a boiling point. the counter behind you pressed into your lower back as you instinctively backed away, trying to put some distance between you and the chef who now towered over you.

your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering in your chest as you looked up at him, your mind racing to make sense of the situation. there was something different in his eyes now, something dark and unreadable, a flicker of something that made your skin prickle with unease. you couldn’t look away, trapped by his gaze, unable to move as the air seemed to thicken around you.

“i take good care of my employees,” hoseok said, his voice low, almost a whisper. the words hung in the air, heavy with implication. “especially the ones that know what they’re doing.”

he paused, letting the weight of his statement sink in. the smirk that followed was small, barely noticeable, but it sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless. there was a calculated cruelty in it, a reminder that you were playing a game whose rules you didn’t fully understand. the look of shock on your face must have amused him, because the smirk deepened, the corners of his mouth curling upward in a way that was anything but friendly. he held your gaze for a moment longer, letting the silence stretch out until it became unbearable, before finally turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

you stood there, rooted to the spot, your mind reeling from the encounter. the exhaustion that had weighed you down only moments ago was now replaced by a new kind of fatigue, one born of fear and uncertainty. his words echoed in your mind, a reminder that you had only just begun to scratch the surface of what it meant to work under a man like him. and as the silence of the kitchen closed in around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the real challenge lay ahead, hidden behind the inscrutable mask of the man who had just left you standing there in astonishment.

the next morning at l’espoir was a blur of activity, the kitchen bustling with the early rush of orders and the frenetic energy that came with the start of a new day. as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back to the unnerving encounter with hoseok the night before. the more you thought about it, the more the details seemed to gnaw at you, leaving you with a gnawing sense of unease.

in a brief lull between the chaos, you seized the opportunity to speak with chaeyoung, hoping for some clarity. she was at her station, her focus entirely on the task at hand as she expertly wielded her knife. you approached her, the question weighing heavily on your mind. “chaeyoung,” you began, trying to keep your tone casual despite the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. “last night, hoseok—chef jung—he said something that really threw me off. he said he takes good care of his employees, especially the ones who know what they’re doing. what did he mean by that?”

her eyes widened in surprise, and she set her knife down with a decisive thud. her gaze was fixed on you, a mixture of shock and concern crossing her features. “that was faster than i thought,” she said, her voice laced with a gravity that made your stomach churn. desperation tinged your voice as you pleaded with her for an explanation. “what do you mean? please, just tell me what’s going on.”

she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could utter a single word, the same voice that had cut through the atmosphere the previous day filled the kitchen once more. chef hoseok’s presence was unmistakable, his authority evident even from a distance. he appeared in the doorway, his stance casual but his expression unreadable. “seo soojin,” he called out, his tone commanding and precise. the moment the name left his lips, the kitchen seemed to hold its breath.

you turned to see soojin, another fellow cook, visibly excited as she looked up at hoseok. her face lit up with a smile that was almost childlike, a contrast to the stern expression you had come to associate with him. without a moment’s hesitation, she followed him out of the kitchen, her steps light and eager. dahyun, who had been bustling around earlier with a beaming expression, now stood with a look of disappointed resignation. her eyes followed soojin and hoseok as they disappeared through the door, her shoulders slumping slightly as if she had expected something different.

as you watched the scene unfold, hoseok’s gaze met yours for a brief, unsettling moment. there was that smirk again, a fleeting expression that seemed to carry a weight of its own. he held your gaze just long enough to make you feel uncomfortable before turning back toward soojin, leaving you standing there with a knot of confusion in your chest. you turned back to chaeyoung, your confusion evident. “what’s going on? why does he keep doing this?”

chaeyoung let out a heavy sigh, turning to face you fully. her expression was one of resignation, her eyes filled with an emotion that was hard to decipher. “you will never be special no matter how good you are,” she said, her voice calm but carrying a weight that made your heart sink. there was no malice in her tone, but the words were stark and cold, cutting through the air with an unspoken finality. she paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. “don’t let him make you think you’re special. he has a way of making you believe you’re important, but it’s all a part of the game he plays. you’re just another cog in the machine.”

without waiting for a response, she turned back to her station, picking up her knife and resuming her work with a practiced efficiency. the clatter of the knife against the cutting board was the only sound that filled the silence that followed, the atmosphere in the kitchen heavy with the weight of her words. you stood there, rooted to the spot, your mind spinning with the implications of what she had said. the confusion that had settled over you was now compounded by a growing sense of foreboding.

the kitchen was a symphony of clattering pans, the hiss of flames, and the murmur of orders being called out and fulfilled with practiced precision. you moved through it all with a growing sense of unease, still rattled by the strange dynamics you had witnessed earlier. the incident with soojin played over in your mind, intertwining with chaeyoung's cryptic warnings, leaving you with a gnawing sense of dread.

hours passed in a blur of activity, the rhythm of the kitchen demanding your full attention, but even as you focused on your tasks, a part of you remained on edge. And then, just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the routine, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted. the familiar presence of chef hoseok filled the room, his energy commanding and intense. you were used to him surveying the kitchen with a critical eye, but this time, he wasn’t simply observing.

to everyone’s astonishment, including your own, hoseok called out your name. the room seemed to freeze as he paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words hang in the air before continuing. “come to my office.”

a shiver ran down your spine, your blood running cold as chaeyoung’s eyes widened in shock. she turned to you with a look of apprehension, and you could see the fear reflected in her gaze, as though she had been waiting for this very moment and dreading it all the same. you nodded weakly, the motion almost imperceptible, as you tried to steady your breathing. with leaden feet, you followed him out of the kitchen, feeling the envious glares from many of the female cooks boring into your back. the intensity of their stares made your skin prickle with discomfort, but you swallowed your fear, forcing yourself to maintain some semblance of composure.

the walk to his office felt interminable, every step echoing in your mind with a sense of finality. when you finally reached his door, it creaked open with an ominous slowness, revealing the space within. the office was stark and minimalistic, a sharp contrast to the chaos of the kitchen. the walls were a cold, muted gray, devoid of any decoration save for a single, large window that overlooked the city. the desk was made of dark, polished wood, a few neatly stacked papers and a sleek laptop the only items adorning its surface. a single chair sat opposite his, the leather worn but comfortable, a place where countless others had sat before you.

hoseok moved behind his desk with a certain predatory grace, settling into his chair and fixing you with a smirk that sent another shiver down your spine. the silence in the room was heavy, charged with an unspoken tension that made your heart race. you stood there, feeling out of place, as though you were trespassing in a space where you didn’t belong. his eyes remained on you, studying your every move as you finally gathered the courage to speak. “why did you need to see me, chef jung?”

he was silent for a moment, his gaze unwavering, and then, with a calculated slowness, he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “you’ve got a special gift, don’t you?” the question took you off guard, and you furrowed your brow in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“for cooking,” he clarified, though his tone carried an edge of something more. “you’re an outstanding chef.” you forced a nervous laugh, trying to downplay the compliment that felt more like a trap. “thank you, chef jung.”

his eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were measuring your reaction, and then he continued, his voice smooth and deliberate. “performance means everything to me. in the kitchen, maybe even in the office.” the sound of his words hung in the air, and a sense of unease tightened your chest. you frowned, trying to keep your voice steady as you asked, “what do you mean by that?”

instead of answering, hoseok stood up from his chair with a fluid motion, his eyes never leaving yours. as he approached, you instinctively backed away, your heels hitting the wall behind you. the cold surface pressed into your back, trapping you as he moved closer, his presence overwhelming and suffocating. he was mere inches away from you now, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low purr. “you’re a pretty girl,” he murmured, his tone almost mocking. “a shy one too, it seems.”

your breath caught in your throat, your mind scrambling for a way out of this situation. his gaze was piercing, intense, and when you turned your head to avoid it, he quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “what’s this?” he asked, his voice laced with a cruel curiosity. “you really don’t want to sleep with me?”

his question hit you like a slap to the face, your eyes widening in shock as the reality of the situation clicked into place. the pieces of the puzzle—the office visits, the strange behavior of the female cooks, chaeyoung’s warnings—all fell together with a sickening clarity. a scoff escaped your lips, more out of disbelief than anything else. “why would i want to sleep with you?”

hoseok’s expression faltered, surprise flickering in his eyes as though he hadn’t expected such a response. you could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to reconcile your reaction with whatever twisted game he was playing. you pressed on, the anger rising in your chest as you confronted him. “do you bring all of your female cooks in here just to sleep with them? what kind of restaurant is this?”

the question hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, the power dynamic between you shifted. his gaze hardened, the smirk fading as his expression turned cold. “watch what you say,” he warned, his tone icy. but the fear that had gripped you before was gone, replaced by a fiery determination. “or what?” you shot back, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “you’ll fire me?”

he seemed genuinely taken aback, as if no one had ever dared to stand up to him before. his eyes searched yours, trying to find a crack in your resolve, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction. “no need to fire me,” you continued, your voice firm. “because i quit.”

the words were final, a declaration of your independence from whatever twisted game he had been playing. you could see the shock in his eyes, the disbelief that someone had dared to defy him. “you have some balls to think i’d sleep with you,” you added, your voice dripping with contempt. “and for what? you’re an asshole who takes advantage of women for the price of an overcooked steak.” his eyes were wide, his face a mask of astonishment as you slipped off your uniform coat jacket, the fabric heavy in your hands. with a final, defiant glare, you slammed it down on his desk, the sound reverberating through the silent office. without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out, leaving the door ajar behind you.

the night air was cool as you walked home, the city lights a blur of distant halos against the encroaching darkness. each step felt heavier than the last, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl of emotions as the gravity of what you had just done began to settle in. the confrontation with hoseok replayed in your mind on an endless loop—his smirk, his words, your defiance. In the moment, it had felt powerful, even righteous, but now, with the adrenaline fading, a different sensation began to take hold.

by the time you reached the front door of your small apartment, the realization of your actions had fully sunk in. you paused, your hand trembling slightly as you reached for the keys in your pocket. the quiet creak of the door as it swung open felt like the final sound before the storm. you stepped inside, the familiar scent of home offering a fleeting sense of comfort, but it wasn’t enough to quell the rising tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

the door closed behind you with a soft click, and suddenly, the weight of the evening pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket. you stood there, motionless, in the middle of your living room, the silence around you amplifying the chaos in your mind. the tears came slowly at first, a single drop trailing down your cheek as the full impact of what you had done crashed over you like a wave. you had just walked out on your internship, on the one opportunity that was supposed to be your stepping stone into the culinary world. hoseok was an asshole, yes, a man who clearly enjoyed taking advantage of his position, using his authority to charm his way into the beds of his female employees. but he hadn’t forced anyone—everything he did was consensual. so why had you been so angry, so furious that you had thrown away everything you had worked for?

you sank down onto the couch, your body trembling as the tears began to flow more freely. it wasn’t just about hoseok’s arrogance, his assumption that you would be willing to trade your dignity for his approval, though that stung deeply. it was the way he had discredited your culinary abilities entirely, reducing you to nothing more than a pretty face in his kitchen. the care and passion you had poured into your cooking, the countless hours spent honing your craft, all of it had been dismissed with a casual smirk and a lecherous comment.

you pressed your hands to your face, trying to stifle the sobs that wracked your body. it felt as though the ground beneath you had crumbled, leaving you adrift in a sea of doubt and regret. you had been so proud to land this internship, so eager to prove yourself, and now it was all slipping away. the memories of your mother flooded your mind—her gentle smile as she tasted your first attempts at cooking, the way she had encouraged you to follow your passion, the pride in her eyes when you were accepted into culinary school. all of it, you feared, was being tossed into the abyss along with your future.

your sobs grew louder, your chest heaving with the force of your despair. you had wanted so badly to succeed, to make your mother proud, and now it felt like you had failed her, failed yourself. you couldn’t imagine what would happen next—whether you would be blacklisted, your reputation tarnished, or if this was the end of your dreams altogether. the sound of your phone buzzing broke through your sobs, the sudden noise startling you. you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, your vision blurry as you fumbled to pull your phone from your pocket.

the screen glowed in the dim light, an unknown number displayed across it. for a moment, you hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as a flood of possibilities rushed through your mind. slowly, you unlocked the phone and opened the message. the words on the screen made your breath catch in your throat: “this is hoseok. be ready for work tomorrow. come on time.”

your eyes widened in shock, the tears still clinging to your lashes as you stared at the message in disbelief. you read it over and over, each time hoping that you hadn’t misread it, that it wasn’t some cruel joke. but the message remained the same, clear and concise, with no hint of the malice or arrogance you had come to expect from him. a fresh wave of tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they weren’t tears of despair. you cried out in a mixture of relief and gratitude, your voice breaking as you whispered, “thank you.” the words felt inadequate, too small to convey the whirlwind of emotions that surged through you—relief, disbelief, hope. you had been certain that you were finished, that you had burned the bridge beyond repair, but now, against all odds, hoseok was giving you another chance.

you clutched the phone to your chest, your tears flowing freely as you continued to murmur your thanks, as if by doing so you could somehow ensure that this second chance was real, that it wouldn’t slip away from you. the room around you was a blur, your thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and gratitude, but one thing was clear—you had been given an unexpected opportunity to prove yourself once more.

the early morning light filtered through the tall windows of the restaurant, casting a soft glow across the kitchen as you stepped inside. the space was quiet, the usual bustle of the day not yet begun, and the stillness allowed you a moment to steady yourself. the memory of last night was still fresh, the relief of hoseok’s message warring with the anxiety that had built up since then. you had come in early, determined to prove yourself, to show that you deserved the second chance he had inexplicably given you.

as you made your way through the kitchen, the faint sounds of someone already at work reached your ears—soft chopping, the gentle sizzle of something on the stove. you hesitated at the doorway, your eyes falling on hoseok, who stood alone at one of the stations. he moved with a kind of graceful precision, each action deliberate and practiced, as though he were conducting a symphony of flavors. his focus was entirely on the task before him, but even from this distance, you could see the ease with which he worked, the confidence in his every movement.

for a moment, you just watched him, awed by the skill that had made him such a formidable figure in the culinary world. he was the man whose name alone commanded respect, whose kitchen you had been so eager to join. and here he was, caramelizing onions with a level of care that spoke to a deep understanding of his craft. the rich, sweet scent filled the air, mingling with the subtle heat of the kitchen, and you found yourself momentarily entranced by the simplicity of the process.

it was then that you noticed something—he was stirring the onions more than you thought necessary. the instinctive urge to offer advice welled up inside you, but you fought it, knowing that you were in no position to critique a chef of his caliber. but before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out, almost without your permission. “chef, you shouldn’t stir so much,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the sound carried in the quiet kitchen.

the moment the words left your lips, regret hit you like a wave. how could you be so foolish? he was the same man who had just given you a chance to redeem yourself, and here you were, criticizing his technique. your heart raced as you waited for the inevitable rebuke, the sharp reprimand that you were sure was coming. you had spoken out of turn, overstepping boundaries, and now you were certain that your second chance was about to be snatched away as quickly as it had been given.

but instead of anger, instead of the cold dismissal you had expected, hoseok paused. he stood still for a moment, as if considering your words, before he slowly turned to face you. his eyes met yours, and you felt a jolt of fear mixed with confusion at the look he gave you—calm, measured, and without a hint of the scorn you had braced yourself for. “you’re right,” he said, his voice carrying a tone of acknowledgment rather than irritation. “they’ll brown faster if i don’t stir so much.”

the surprise that washed over you was almost as strong as the initial fear. your eyes widened in disbelief, and you barely managed to stammer out a response. but before you could say anything, he smiled—a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips that softened the usually stern lines of his face. the expression was brief, gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it left you reeling. hoseok had not only accepted your advice but had done so with a humility that you hadn’t expected from someone of his stature.

he said nothing about the incident the previous day, and you knew better than to bring it up. the tension that had gripped you since last night eased slightly, but you still felt a lingering sense of unease. was it his way of testing you? or had he genuinely respected your input? the uncertainty gnawed at you, but you forced yourself to focus, reminding yourself that you were here to work, to prove yourself worthy of the opportunity he had extended.

his voice broke through your thoughts as he turned back to the onions, resuming his work with a quiet confidence. “i have an assignment for you,” he said, his tone suggesting that this was more than just a simple task. “since you seem to know so much.”

your heart skipped a beat at the words, a mix of anxiety and determination surging through you. you nodded, keeping your expression as neutral as possible, though inside you were mentally cursing yourself for speaking up earlier. you didn’t want him to think you were arrogant, or worse, insubordinate. but there was no turning back now. you had opened your mouth, and now you would have to see this through.

“i want a new product made to represent the restaurant,” he continued, his focus still on the onions but his words clearly meant for you. “something that embodies what we stand for here at l’espoir. you seem like you have some ideas, so i expect you’ll get right on it.”

the weight of the task settled over you like a heavy mantle, but you nodded again, your mind already racing with possibilities. it was no small request—creating a signature dish was a challenge that could define your place in the kitchen, perhaps even your future as a chef. you swallowed your nerves and replied with a quiet, “yes, chef,” your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. hoseok gave a small nod of acknowledgment, his attention once again on the stove as he continued to work. you stood there for a moment longer, watching as he moved with that same effortless grace, turning the now perfectly caramelized onions in the pan.

the kitchen became your safe spot as the hours slipped away, the clang of pots and the rhythmic sound of chopping filling the air. you were deep in the creative process, each movement purposeful, each decision calculated. the pressure of hoseok’s challenge weighed on you, but it was that very pressure that drove you, igniting the fire that had once fueled your passion for cooking. the thoughts of the previous day, the tension and confrontation, were pushed to the back of your mind as you focused on the task at hand.

you moved with an ease that came only from years of practice, your hands guiding the knife with precision as you sliced through vegetables and herbs. the familiar scent of garlic and onions filled the air as you sautéed them in a pan, the sizzling sound offering a comforting rhythm to your work. you experimented with various combinations, each one designed to evoke the flavors and essence that would truly represent the restaurant. the process was meticulous, each trial a step closer to finding the perfect dish that would encapsulate what l’espoir stood for.

but it wasn’t until your eyes landed on the jar of white kimchi that inspiration truly struck. the jar sat on the counter, seemingly forgotten amidst the array of ingredients scattered before you. the sight of it sparked a memory—an understanding of what this dish needed to be. kimchi was more than just a food; it was a symbol of resilience, diversity, and unity. the way it brought together a myriad of ingredients, each with its own distinct flavor, to create something harmonious and whole—it was the essence of what you wanted to capture.

qu'il y ait de l'espoir, let there be hope. the connection was undeniable, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. you worked quickly now, the energy flowing through you as you gathered ingredients. the white kimchi would be the star of the dish, its subtle flavors a delicate balance of sweetness and tang, with just the right amount of heat. it was different from the traditional red kimchi, yet it carried the same spirit. the idea of turning it into a ravioli—a fusion of korean and italian influences—felt like the perfect way to represent the blending of cultures, the melding of ideas that l’espoir sought to achieve.

unbeknownst to you, hoseok had entered the kitchen, his presence unnoticed as you became completely absorbed in your work. he lingered by the entrance, watching you with a mix of curiosity and something else—a hint of admiration, perhaps? he was drawn to the way you moved, the way your focus never wavered as you diced, sliced, and sautéed with unwavering determination. there was something about your dedication, the way you poured your heart into every step of the process, that intrigued him. a small smile played at the corner of his lips as he observed you in your element.

you began by preparing the filling for the ravioli, finely chopping the white kimchi and mixing it with sautéed garlic, onions, and a touch of ginger to enhance the flavors. the kimchi’s subtle acidity needed to be balanced, so you added a hint of honey to mellow the sharpness, allowing the natural sweetness of the fermented cabbage to shine through. the mixture was then combined with a smooth ricotta cheese, adding a creamy texture that would complement the crispness of the kimchi. you carefully tasted the filling, adjusting the seasoning with a pinch of salt and a sprinkle of black pepper, ensuring that each bite would carry the complexity of flavors you intended.

you moved on to making the pasta dough, your hands working methodically as you combined flour and eggs, kneading the mixture until it was smooth and elastic. the dough needed to rest, so you covered it with a damp cloth and set it aside, using the time to clean your station and prepare the rest of the components. hoseok watched as you moved around the kitchen, noting the way your brow furrowed in concentration, the way your fingers deftly handled the ingredients. there was a quiet confidence in the way you worked, a confidence that had been absent when you first started. he saw it in the way you now approached the tasks before you, with a sense of purpose and an understanding of what you wanted to achieve.

once the dough was ready, you rolled it out into thin sheets, the smooth surface gliding beneath your fingers. you carefully spooned the kimchi filling onto the dough, leaving enough space between each dollop to fold the dough over and seal the edges. your movements were precise as you pressed the edges together, forming delicate ravioli that held the promise of something unique. you then moved to the stove, bringing a pot of salted water to a gentle boil. the ravioli was carefully lowered into the water, and you watched as they floated to the surface, the dough turning tender and translucent as they cooked. the anticipation built within you, your mind racing with thoughts of how this dish would come together.

in a separate pan, you melted butter, allowing it to brown slightly to bring out a nutty aroma. you added sage leaves, their earthy scent mingling with the butter, creating a sauce that would coat the ravioli in a layer of rich flavor. as the ravioli finished cooking, you transferred them into the pan, gently tossing them in the butter sauce, ensuring that each piece was evenly coated. hoseok’s eyes never left you as you worked, his curiosity deepening as he saw the dish take shape. there was something different about you, something that set you apart from the others he had worked with. it wasn’t just your skill—it was the passion, the thoughtfulness that you put into each step of the process. he found himself drawn to it, intrigued by the way you had approached the challenge he had set for you.

you plated the ravioli with care, arranging them in a way that was both visually appealing and respectful of the dish’s simplicity. you finished with a sprinkle of toasted pine nuts for texture and a light drizzle of the remaining butter sauce, the golden liquid pooling around the edges of the plate. the dish was a delicate balance of flavors and textures, each element working in harmony to create something that was more than just food—it was a reflection of your creativity, your understanding of what it meant to cook with heart.

the air in the kitchen had been filled with a sense of anticipation. after your creation had come to life, it was impossible to keep the secret contained. other chefs and cooks, sensing the undercurrent of something new, began to trickle into the kitchen, their curiosity piqued. the atmosphere shifted as more and more of your colleagues gathered around the counter where your dish sat, its delicate aroma mingling with the scents of the day’s preparations. hoseok approached you first, his expression unreadable yet calm, his eyes glinting with a hint of interest. “tell me about this dish,” he asked, his tone firm but not unkind. it was a command wrapped in curiosity, one that invited you to share the thought process behind the creation that now held the attention of the entire kitchen.

taking a deep breath, you began to explain, your voice steady as you described the inspiration behind the dish. “i wanted to create something that reflects both the tradition and the innovation that this restaurant represents. white kimchi is often overshadowed by its red counterpart, but it’s just as rich in flavor, just as versatile. i thought, why not use it in a way that brings together different culinary worlds? the idea of combining it with something as classic as ravioli felt like the perfect way to bridge that gap. the tang of the kimchi, balanced with the creaminess of the ricotta, and then brought together by the sage butter—it’s a fusion that represents the diversity of our kitchen.”

as you spoke, you could sense the room’s mood shift. some of the chefs exchanged glances, their brows furrowed in skepticism. the idea of blending such distinct culinary traditions was, to many, a daring move. you could hear a few murmurs of disbelief—mixing korean and otalian cuisine in such an intimate way was almost sacrilegious to the purists. a chef from the back muttered something about the integrity of traditional dishes, and a few others nodded in agreement. but you stood your ground, explaining how the fusion wasn’t meant to diminish either culture, but rather to highlight the beauty in their union.

hoseok remained silent as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. when you finished, the room fell into an uneasy silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. he didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps he didn’t care about—the unease among the other chefs. instead, his gaze dropped to the dish before him, and without a word, he picked up a fork, cutting through one of the ravioli with precision before bringing it to his mouth.

the room seemed to hold its breath as he chewed, his face a mask of concentration. you felt your heart pounding in your chest, the doubt from your peers weighing heavily on you, despite your best efforts to stay confident. the seconds stretched on, each one filled with an unbearable silence, until finally, hoseok’s expression shifted. a glint of something—was it surprise?—sparked in his eyes. slowly, he looked back at you, and to your utter astonishment, his lips curved into a smile. “this is amazing,” he said, his voice low but full of admiration. the tension in the room seemed to dissipate as his words sank in, and you could see the other chefs exchanging looks of surprise. “the balance of flavors, the creativity in combining these two culinary worlds—it’s exactly what i was hoping for. congratulations.”

a wave of relief washed over you, so powerful it almost brought tears to your eyes. the disbelief from your colleagues gave way to murmurs of approval as they began to gather closer, each one eager to taste the dish that had earned such high praise from chef jung. hoseok stepped back, allowing the others to try the ravioli, his smile lingering as he watched their reactions. he didn’t need to say more—his approval was enough to turn the tide of skepticism. as the chefs began to taste your creation, you could see their initial doubt melt away, replaced with genuine appreciation for the flavors you had brought together. it wasn’t long before the dish became the talk of the kitchen, its success spreading quickly through the restaurant’s staff. praise followed from all corners, each compliment fueling your sense of accomplishment. it was as though the entire kitchen had been given a new burst of energy, your dish acting as a catalyst for inspiration.

the next few days were a whirlwind of activity. news of the dish reached the restaurant’s management, and before you knew it, there was talk of adding it to the menu as the restaurant’s special. hoseok worked with you to fine-tune the presentation, ensuring that every detail was perfect. the dish quickly gained popularity among the patrons, its unique fusion of flavors creating a buzz that spread beyond the restaurant’s walls.

the recognition came swiftly. a local food critic wrote a glowing review, praising the dish for its innovative approach and its seamless blending of cultures. soon after, a food magazine reached out, requesting an interview with you and hoseok to discuss the inspiration behind the creation. but the pinnacle of the dish’s success came when the restaurant received a request to film a commercial, showcasing the process of creating the now-famous white kimchi ravioli.

the day of the shoot arrived, and the kitchen was abuzz with excitement. you felt a mix of nerves and exhilaration as you prepared for the filming, knowing that this was a rare opportunity to showcase your skills on such a large platform. hoseok introduced you to one of the chefs who would be working with you for the shoot—kim seokjin. he was tall and handsome, with an easy smile that instantly put you at ease. there was something about his demeanor that was both professional and friendly, a balance that made working with him feel natural.

“nice to meet you,” seokjin said with a grin, his hand outstretched. “i’ve heard a lot about your dish.” you shook his hand, smiling back. “likewise. i’m looking forward to working with you.”

hoseok, standing off to the side with the director, watched the exchange with a calm expression, but you could sense the subtle shift in his demeanor. there was a tension in the way he stood, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the interaction between you and seokjin. it was as though something about the easy camaraderie between you and the other chef rubbed him the wrong way, but he said nothing, his face a mask of professionalism.

the filming began, and you and seokjin worked together seamlessly, preparing the ingredients for the dish. the cameras rolled as you sliced through vegetables, your hands moving with the precision that had been honed through years of practice. he was skilled, his movements confident as he worked alongside you, but there was a moment when he began to cut the kimchi in a way that you knew could be improved.

“seokjin, let me show you something,” you said gently, stepping closer to him. you took his hands in yours, guiding the knife through the kimchi with a more efficient motion. your fingers brushed against his as you adjusted his grip, your eyes meeting his as you explained the technique. “of you cut it this way, it’ll keep the pieces more uniform and release the flavors more evenly.”

his gaze locked with yours, his smile widening as he nodded. “thanks, that’s really helpful,” he replied, his tone warm and appreciative. the moment was brief, but the connection between you and him was undeniable. it was a simple act of collaboration, but to hoseok, who stood watching from the sidelines, it seemed to be something more. his jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides as he tried to suppress the surge of irritation that welled up within him. it was irrational, he knew that, but the sight of you working so closely with seokjin, the way your hands had lingered on his, sparked a jealousy that he struggled to control.

as the scene wrapped up, you turned to hoseok, eager to know if he was pleased with how the shoot had gone. “chef, how was it?” you asked, your voice laced with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. his response was clipped, his tone betraying the frustration he was trying to hide. “it was fine,” he said shortly, his eyes avoiding yours. without waiting for your reply, he turned on his heel and retreated back into the kitchen, leaving you standing there with a sense of unease.

seokjin, noticing the tension, turned to you with a soft smile. “it was nice meeting you,” he said, his voice sincere. “you did great today.”

“thanks, seokjin,” you replied, forcing a smile. “you too.” as he made his way back to his station, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. hoseok’s sudden coldness lingered in your mind, but you pushed it aside, reminding yourself that you had done your best. still, the uncertainty gnawed at you as you followed him back into the kitchen, the familiar scents and sounds offering little comfort.

you hesitated at the entrance, unsure whether to approach him, but before you could decide, hoseok’s voice cut through the silence, cold and commanding. “kim yerim,” he called, the sound of the name causing your heart to skip a beat. “come to my office.”

the girl peered over, a smile gracing her face as she obliged, following hoseok out of the kitchen and toward his office. the sight made your stomach churn, as did the sound of silence. you didn't miss it, the look he gave you before slipping out of the station. it was a look that you couldn't quite define, but it was enough to make your blood run cold. no matter how supportive he was, old habits died hard. at the end of the day, he was still the same man who did as he pleased with the women willing to give him a piece of their dignity.

chaeyoung approached you not long after the tension-filled exchange in the kitchen. her eyes were bright with excitement, a wide grin spreading across her face. “you were amazing today!” she exclaimed, her voice full of genuine admiration. “the way you handled everything, from the dish to the filming, it was perfect.” you smiled at her praise, feeling a warmth spread through you. “thank you, chae,” you replied, your voice soft but appreciative. the validation from your peers meant as much as the recognition from hoseok.

she wasn’t done, though. she leaned in slightly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “and you and seokjin,” she began, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret, “seemed to have something going on there. the way he was looking at you—” you laughed, shaking your head at the implication. “no, no, there’s nothing going on,” you denied, though you couldn’t stop the slight blush that crept into your cheeks at the memory of seokjin’s warm smile.

she raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she continued, “the team is going out for celebratory drinks tonight. it’s all on your behalf, so you have to come.” you hesitated, the idea of joining everyone for drinks sounding appealing yet a little daunting. “i’ll think about it,” you said, not committing but leaving the door open.

before you could say more, another voice chimed in, the tone playful yet insistent. “you’ll be there.” you turned to see seokjin, a knowing smile on his lips as he looked at you expectantly. his presence was both reassuring and slightly unnerving, given how easily he seemed to be able to read your thoughts. you found yourself nodding, caught up in his easy charm. “okay, i’ll be there,” you agreed, pausing before adding with a bit of uncertainty, “are you coming too?”

he shrugged, his expression teasing. “only if you want me to,” he said, his tone light but laced with something more. chaeyoung couldn’t hold back her giggles, her support for the budding camaraderie between you two evident in the way she swooned slightly. “drinks at nine,” she reminded, her voice full of enthusiasm.

but before you could fully relax into the idea of a fun night out, another voice cut through the conversation, this one colder and more authoritative. “what drinks?”

the three of you turned to see hoseok standing a few feet away, his expression stoic, his eyes focused intently on the three of you. chaeyoung, caught off guard, fumbled over her words, her earlier confidence evaporating under Hoseok’s intense gaze. “uh, we were just, um, planning to go out for drinks to celebrate, and we were wondering if you’d like to come too?” she managed to get out, her voice faltering slightly with each word.

you inwardly winced at the thought of hoseok joining. the situation already felt complicated enough without adding his presence to the mix, especially after the way he’d been watching you and seokjin earlier. but to your dismay, his expression didn’t change as he responded, “of course, i’ll be coming.” there was a finality in his tone that left no room for argument. you avoided looking at him, unsure of how to navigate the sudden shift in the atmosphere. instead, you turned back to seokjin, who was still standing beside you. his warm smile hadn’t faltered, and the ease in his demeanor seemed unaffected by hoseok’s looming presence.

hoseok, however, seemed to notice the silent exchange between you and seokjin. his eyes narrowed slightly, and his voice took on an edge as he asked, “and seokjin, will you be coming too?” he met his gaze calmly, his smile never wavering. “yes, i’ll be there.”

a smirk played on hoseok’s lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “great,” he said, the word carrying a weight that seemed to linger in the air long after it was spoken.

the conversation ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. chaeyoung glanced between you, seokjin, and hoseok, clearly sensing the undercurrent of tension but unsure how to address it. after a moment, she cleared her throat, forcing a cheerful tone as she said, “well, i’ll see you guys tonight, then!”

she quickly excused herself, leaving you alone with seokjin and hoseok. the latter’s eyes remained on you for a moment longer before he turned on his heel and walked away, heading back toward his office. aeokjin turned to you, his voice gentle as he said, “don’t worry about it. tonight will be fun, i promise.” you nodded, though the knot in your stomach didn’t entirely loosen.

getting ready for the evening felt different than it had for other nights out. the tension that had brewed all day still lingered, and as you stood before the mirror in your room, smoothing the floral dress you’d chosen, a part of you wondered if going was even a good idea. but you’d made a commitment, and besides, after everything that had happened, a part of you wanted to celebrate. you had achieved something noteworthy, and despite the awkwardness with hoseok, there was a sense of pride that you couldn’t ignore.

your hair, which you had usually kept tied up or tucked away beneath a chef’s hat, cascaded freely over your shoulders. the soft waves framed your face, and you had taken extra care with your makeup, applying just enough to enhance your features without overdoing it. you hardly recognized yourself as you gave one last glance in the mirror, but the reflection was a pleasant surprise. tonight, you weren’t just the diligent chef striving to prove herself—you were someone who could allow herself to feel beautiful.

when you finally walked into the barbecue bar, the warm, smoky scent of grilled meat filled the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of your peers. you were greeted enthusiastically by your colleagues, their smiles wide and their voices carrying over the lively buzz of the place. chaeyoung, already a bit tipsy, threw her arms around you, her eyes sparkling with delight. “you made it!” she cheered, pulling you into a tight hug. “and look at you, so pretty tonight!”

you smiled, trying to soak in the compliments, but your gaze drifted instinctively toward hoseok, who was seated at the end of the table. his eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in his expression—something stern, something unreadable. you looked away quickly, the knot in your stomach tightening, only to catch seokjin’s gaze instead.

to your surprise, his face lit up when he saw you, and before you could react, he was closing the distance between you and pulling you into a warm hug. “you look prettier than usual,” he said, his tone playful but sincere. his eyes scanned your floral dress, taking in the way it flowed around you, your hair loose and soft, the faint makeup you had applied. your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you smiled, feeling a bit shy at his directness. “thank you,” you managed, the words coming out softer than you intended. “you don’t look so bad yourself.”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and released you from the hug. from the corner of your eye, you noticed the way hoseok’s hand tightened around his shot glass, his knuckles going white. a moment later, he downed the entire shot in one go, the glass hitting the table with a bit too much force.

you took a seat, finding yourself in the center of the group, seokjin to your left, chaeyoung to your right, with hoseok directly across from you. the conversation flowed easily, the drinks making everyone more relaxed, more willing to laugh and share stories. chaeyoung, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, leaned in closer to you at one point, her voice a bit louder than usual. “you and seokjin are so adorable together,” she teased, her words slightly slurred. you felt your face heat up, and you laughed nervously, waving a hand dismissively. “we’re not together,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, though you could feel the curious stares of your colleagues.

seokjin leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “for now,” he added, his voice low enough that only those closest to you could hear. the whole table erupted in laughter, everyone except hoseok. he didn’t laugh. Instead, his face hardened, and he slammed his glass on the table with enough force to silence the room. without a word, he pushed back his chair and stood, heading toward the bathroom, leaving the table in an uncomfortable silence.

seokjin was the first to break the awkwardness, his voice a bit softer this time as he leaned in toward you. “don’t worry about him,” he said, his tone reassuring. “he’s just—” he paused, searching for the right words, but ultimately shook his head. “it’s not your fault.” you nodded, but the uneasy feeling in your chest didn’t dissipate. the rest of the group tried to continue the conversation, but it was clear that hoseok’s sudden departure had put a damper on the mood.

when he finally returned, it was obvious he had been drinking too much. his steps were slightly unsteady, and there was a glazed look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. you watched him carefully, noticing how his hand shook slightly as he poured himself another drink. concerned, you leaned in closer to him, your voice low. “are you going to be able to make it home?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral.

he looked at you, his expression hard to read, his eyes clouded by the alcohol. “what’s it to you?” he slurred, his words coming out a bit harsher than he probably intended. you bit back a sigh, your patience starting to wear thin. turning away from him, you addressed the others at the table. “i’m sorry, but i think i’m going to have to call it a night,” you said, pausing to glance at hoseok, who was swaying slightly in his seat. “i’ll need to drive hoseok home.”

the group erupted in protests, insisting that you didn’t need to take responsibility, but seokjin, who had been quietly observing, stood up and hugged you. “if you need anything, call me,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. you nodded, appreciating his support, and helped hoseok to his feet. he was surprisingly heavy, leaning against you more than you expected as you guided him out of the bar. the night air was cool against your skin, a contrast to the warmth inside the bar. hoseok mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t quite make out, but you were too focused on getting him to his car to ask him to repeat it.

when you finally reached his car, he fumbled for his keys, dropping them once before managing to hand them to you. “you’re mean,” he muttered, his voice petulant, catching you off guard. the change in his demeanor was startling—gone was the stern, composed chef you were used to, replaced by someone far more vulnerable and childlike. taken aback, you looked at him, your brow furrowed. “put your seatbelt on if you’re sober enough to know how,” you said, your voice firm but not unkind.

he scoffed, his expression challenging as he tried and failed to buckle his seatbelt. the buckle slipped from his grasp twice before you finally sighed and leaned over him to secure it yourself. as you clicked the seatbelt into place, you glanced up and found his eyes fixed on you. his gaze was softer now, the earlier harshness replaced with something else, something that made your heart skip a beat.

flustered, you quickly looked away, securing him in before retreating to the driver’s seat. you started the car, the engine purring softly as you pulled out of the parking lot. “where do you live?” you asked, glancing over at him. but there was no response. when you looked over, you saw that he had already fallen asleep, his head resting against the window. you couldn’t help but scoff quietly, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. “lightweight,” you muttered under your breath.

with no other choice, you decided to drive him to your place. the drive was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sigh from hoseok as he shifted in his sleep. by the time you pulled up to your apartment, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. but as you looked over at hoseok, still fast asleep in the passenger seat, you knew that this night wasn’t over yet. there was still the matter of getting him inside, of figuring out what to do next. and as much as you wanted to just let him sleep it off in the car, you knew you couldn’t leave him out there.

the night air was crisp as you pulled into your driveway, the headlights of your car slicing through the darkness. your heart pounded with an anxious rhythm, still reeling from the night’s events. hoseok was fast asleep in the passenger seat, his head slumped against the window, oblivious to the world around him. you killed the engine, the sudden silence in the car amplifying the sound of your breath as you gathered the courage to wake him.

“hoseok,” you murmured softly, reaching out to nudge his shoulder. he stirred slightly, but his eyes remained closed. you shook him a bit harder, and this time, his eyelids fluttered open, groggy and unfocused. “we’re here,” you added gently. he blinked up at you, disoriented. “where?” his voice was thick with sleep, the usual sharpness of his tone dulled by the alcohol.

you sighed, stepping out of the car and walking around to his side. opening the door, you leaned in, unbuckling his seatbelt. “you fell asleep before you could tell me where you live,” you explained, your voice laced with mild frustration as you hoisted him out of the car, his body heavy and uncooperative. as you helped him into the house, his steps were sluggish, his arm slung over your shoulders for support. he stumbled slightly as you led him to the couch, guiding him down as he collapsed onto the cushions with a weary sigh. the warmth of your home enveloped you both, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside.

“always been a lightweight?” you teased lightly, attempting to lighten the mood as you watched him sprawl out on the couch, his long limbs taking up most of the space. hoseok groaned, his hand coming up to rub his face. “i don’t drink,” he muttered, his voice muffled by his hand. he paused, glancing up at you with an expression that was oddly vulnerable. “it was my first time.”

your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “your first time? why on earth did you decide to drink tonight then?” the question slipped out before you could stop it, your curiosity piqued. he shifted on the couch, rolling onto his back so he could look at you directly. his gaze was intense, almost too much to bear. “because of you,” he said simply, his voice carrying an undercurrent of something that made your stomach twist with unease.

you blinked, caught off guard by the admission. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. hoseok’s eyes darkened, a scowl tugging at his lips. “maybe you should ask seokjin,” he retorted, the mocking edge to his voice making you flinch.

the implication behind his words was clear, and it stung. you scoffed, shaking your head as you tried to dismiss it. “he’s just a friend,” you argued, but the pause before you added, “and even if he wasn’t, so what?” made the words feel hollow. you turned away, intending to retreat and give yourself some distance from the tension that had thickened the air. but before you could take a step, hoseok’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist in a firm grip. you gasped as he pulled you back, your body stumbling and falling against his, your back pressing into his chest as his arms encircled your waist.

“don’t,” he murmured into your shoulder, his voice low and almost pleading. you could feel his breath warm against your skin, the closeness of him making your heart race. “i don’t like you being so close to him.” his words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of shock and confusion rendering you silent. this was hoseok—strict, professional, always in control—yet here he was, holding onto you as if you might slip away.

he tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you closer as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “i only want you to be like this with me,” he confessed, the raw honesty in his voice making your breath hitch. you swallowed hard, your mind racing to catch up with what was happening. “you’re drunk,” you protested weakly, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “you don’t know what you’re saying.”

but he shook his head, the movement causing his hair to brush against your skin. “i know exactly what I’m talking about,” he insisted, his voice steady despite the alcohol in his system. he hesitated for a moment before continuing, his next words sending a jolt through you. “you brought the hope back to l’espoir.”

you didn’t know how to respond, your mind a whirlwind of emotions as you tried to process the weight of his confession. but before you could form a coherent thought, hoseok’s grip on you loosened, his body going slack as sleep claimed him once more. you were left there, sitting in stunned silence, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of the situation settled over you. he had just bared his soul to you, and you didn’t know what to do with that.

when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the warm, enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. it was a comforting scent, one that slowly coaxed you out of the remnants of sleep. you stretched lazily, the morning light filtering softly through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to revel in the peace, before the memories of last night came rushing back—hoseok’s confession, the unexpected closeness, the weight of his words still lingering in your mind.

you rose from the bed, the soft padding of your feet on the cool floor the only sound in the quiet house. the scent of coffee grew stronger as you made your way to the kitchen, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. as you rounded the corner, you found him standing at the counter, his back to you as he poured steaming coffee into two mugs. he was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, though slightly rumpled from sleep, his hair tousled in a way that made him look more approachable than usual.

he turned at the sound of your footsteps, his eyes locking onto yours with an expression that was surprisingly gentle. “morning,” he greeted, his voice still carrying that low, warm timbre that had made your heart race the night before. “you want some coffee?”

you nodded, feeling a bit awkward in the face of his casual demeanor after everything that had happened. “yes, please,” you managed to reply, your voice coming out a bit softer than you intended. you moved to sit at the small kitchen table, the wooden chair creaking slightly as you settled into it. hoseok handed you a mug, and you took it with a quiet word of thanks. the rich, earthy scent of the coffee was even more intoxicating up close, and you noticed that it had been made using a french press—a sign of care and attention. you took a tentative sip, the warmth spreading through you like a comforting embrace. “thank you for this,” you said, gesturing to the coffee, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling back to the events of last night.

he leaned against the counter, cradling his own mug between his hands as he regarded you with a calm gaze. “it’s me who should be thanking you,” he replied, a hint of sincerity in his tone that you weren’t used to hearing from him. “for taking care of me when I was, well, not at my best.” you hesitated, swirling the coffee in your cup as you tried to find the right words. “are you feeling better? did you sober up?”

he nodded, taking a slow sip from his mug before setting it down on the counter. “yeah. i’m good now.” there was a moment of silence, the two of you just sipping your coffee, the unspoken tension between you almost palpable. your thoughts drifted back to the way he had pulled you close last night, the confession that had left you reeling. the memory of it made your cheeks flush, and you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to the implications of his words.

as if sensing the direction of your thoughts, hoseok’s lips curved into a smirk. he tilted his head slightly, his eyes sparkling with something that made your pulse quicken. “you’re thinking about what i said last night, aren’t you?” you nearly choked on your coffee, your eyes widening as you looked up at him, caught off guard by his straightforwardness. “i, well,” you stammered, trying to compose yourself as you fumbled for a response. the memory of him holding you, his breath warm against your skin as he confessed his feelings, was too vivid to ignore.

his smirk softened into a more serious expression, his gaze unwavering as he continued. “i meant every word of it.” his tone was resolute, leaving no room for doubt, and the intensity of his gaze made it clear that he was being completely honest. your heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. you opened your mouth to respond, but found yourself at a loss, your thoughts a jumble of confusion and emotions. “i, um, i have to get to work,” you finally managed to say, your voice a bit shaky as you clung to the one thing you could focus on—the need to be on time.

hoseok studied you for a moment, as if contemplating whether to press the matter further, before raising his hand in a gesture of understanding. “i’ll drive you,” he offered, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, reassuring smile. you shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “you don’t have to, i can—”

but he cut you off with a gentle insistence. “i want to,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. realizing there was no point in protesting, you simply nodded, your thoughts still in a whirlwind as you finished your coffee in silence. the ride to work was quiet, but not uncomfortable. hoseok seemed to be in a much better mood, the tension from the previous night having dissipated, leaving behind a sense of calm. he hummed softly to the music playing on the radio, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel as he drove.

when you arrived at the restaurant, you turned to him, offering a small smile of gratitude. “thanks for the ride.” he smiled back, a genuine warmth in his eyes that made you feel a bit more at ease. “anytime.” you watched as he walked into the restaurant ahead of you, his posture relaxed, a stark contrast to the way he had been behaving recently. it didn’t take long for you to notice that his good mood seemed to linger throughout the day, a lightness in his steps that was unusual for him. he didn’t snap at anyone, didn’t call any of the girls into his office like he usually did. it was as if something had shifted within him, and the change left you stunned, unable to shake the feeling that something significant had occurred between the two of you.

the buzz of the kitchen hummed around you as you settled into your routine, the familiar clatter of pots and pans mingling with the sharp sizzle of ingredients hitting hot oil. there was an unspoken rhythm to the place, a steady flow of movement and sound that kept the energy high, but today, there was an undercurrent of tension. whispers had already started to circulate, the staff exchanging wary glances as they awaited the inevitable—hoseok’s arrival. it was almost a ritual by now, the way he’d sweep in with that cold, calculating gaze, ready to single out yet another unfortunate girl to pull into his office. the atmosphere would shift, voices would lower, and everyone would brace themselves for whatever mood he was in that day.

but when he finally stepped into the kitchen, something was different. the usual noise faded into an expectant silence, all eyes turning towards him as he made his way through the bustling space. you watched as he paused, his gaze sweeping over the room, and for a moment, you thought you caught a glimpse of the stern, unyielding expression that had become all too familiar. but then, to everyone’s shock, his lips curled into a smile—an actual, genuine smile—and he offered a simple, “thank you, everyone, for working hard today.”

the reaction was immediate and palpable. people exchanged stunned glances, the tension in the room dissolving into an almost disbelieving murmur. no one quite knew how to react, the abrupt change in his demeanor leaving everyone off-balance. it was as if they were waiting for the punchline to some elaborate joke, but instead, hoseok simply continued walking, his steps light, his mood shockingly bright.

your heart skipped a beat when he started moving in your direction, his gaze locked onto you with a strange mix of determination and something else you couldn’t quite place. you quickly turned back to your station, trying to steady your breathing as you busied yourself with your tasks, hoping he’d pass by without another word. but then he stopped right beside you, his presence looming, and you felt a prickle of anticipation at the base of your spine. “drop your shift,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

you froze, your hands stilling over the cutting board as his words registered. Slowly, you turned to face him, confusion knitting your brows together. “what do you mean?” you asked, your voice laced with uncertainty. hoseok met your gaze, his eyes glinting with that same determined look. “you have the rest of the day off,” he clarified, his tone leaving no room for argument.

the words hit you like a sudden breeze, your heart leaping at the unexpected reprieve. it was a rare gift, one that filled you with a rush of excitement. your mind immediately started racing with all the possibilities of what you could do with the extra time, a smile beginning to spread across your face as you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. but just as quickly as the excitement rose, it was tempered by his next words. “on one condition,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

you blinked, the smile faltering slightly as you processed his words. “what condition?” you asked, your tone cautious, though the curiosity was already beginning to seep in. he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “you spend the rest of the day with me,” he said, the request both unexpected and strangely intimate.

your heart skipped again, this time with a mix of surprise and something that felt suspiciously like anticipation. you hesitated, your mind running through the implications of his request, but there was something in the way he looked at you—something earnest and sincere—that made it hard to refuse. and truthfully, part of you didn’t want to. “all right,” you found yourself saying, the word slipping out before you could overthink it.

hoseok’s smile widened, his expression softening with something that looked a lot like relief. “good,” he replied, his tone light, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something that hinted at how much this meant to him. “i’ll meet you outside in ten minutes.” with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind buzzing with questions. the kitchen slowly returned to its usual rhythm, but the earlier tension was replaced by a new kind of energy—one that left you both excited and apprehensive about what the rest of the day might hold.

as you quickly wrapped up your station and informed your supervisor of your unexpected early departure, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of anticipation settle over you. there was no telling what hoseok had in mind, but as you stepped out of the kitchen and made your way to the front of the restaurant, you knew one thing for certain—today was going to be different.

the day stretched out before you like a blank canvas, one that you never imagined would be spent alongside hoseok. as you stepped out of the restaurant, the warmth of the sun embraced your skin, the bustling sounds of the city creating a lively backdrop to your unexpected adventure. hoseok guided you toward the bus stop, the two of you walking in comfortable silence, the earlier events in the kitchen still buzzing in your mind.

when the bus arrived, packed with the usual weekday crowd, you hesitated at the door. he stepped in first, his eyes scanning the interior for an empty seat. finding none, you both prepared to stand, but then, just as you were about to grab hold of the nearest rail, he gently nudged a young man sitting close by. there was something firm yet polite in his tone as he asked the man to stand and let you sit. the young man, caught off guard, quickly obliged, and you found yourself looking up at hoseok in surprise. “take the seat,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

you blinked, not used to such gestures from him—usually, his demeanor was all business, but today, he seemed different, more considerate, almost caring. you muttered a quiet “thank you” as you sat down, the unexpected kindness making your heart skip a beat. hoseok stood beside you, holding onto the overhead rail, his posture relaxed as he looked out of the window. the bus rumbled forward, carrying the two of you through the city streets, the vibrant blur of people and places passing by. you couldn’t help but glance up at him every now and then, curious about the change in his behavior, about what had prompted him to be so attentive. it wasn’t long before curiosity got the better of you.

“so, where are we going?” you asked, tilting your head to look up at him. hoseok smiled, a playful glint in his eyes. “it’s a surprise,” he said, leaving no room for further questions. you sighed in mock frustration, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your growing excitement. there was something thrilling about not knowing where the day would take you, something about being in the moment, just the two of you, that made you feel more alive than you had in a long time.

eventually, the bus came to a stop, and hoseok gestured for you to follow him. you stepped off the bus together, the cool breeze ruffling your hair as he led you through a series of winding streets. the further you walked, the more the hustle and bustle of the main roads faded away, replaced by quieter, narrower lanes lined with small shops and cozy cafés. finally, he slowed down, and you looked up to see a small, unassuming restaurant tucked between two taller buildings. the sign above the door was simple, the name “seong’s bistro” written in elegant script. It wasn’t anything grand, but there was a charm to it, a warmth that made you feel like you were about to step into someone’s home rather than a restaurant.

“this is it,” he said, turning to you with a smile. “come on, let’s go in.” he held the door open for you, and as you walked inside, you were greeted by the welcoming scent of home-cooked meals. the interior was just as cozy as the exterior, with wooden tables, soft lighting, and walls adorned with framed photographs of what appeared to be family gatherings and happy customers. there was a sense of history there, of stories shared over meals, and it made you feel instantly at ease.

a man in his late thirties, with a friendly smile and an apron tied around his waist, approached you both. his features bore a striking resemblance to hoseok’s, though his face was softer, more rounded, and his demeanor exuded warmth. “my cousin,” the man exclaimed, pulling hoseok into a quick hug before turning to you. “and you must be the famous chef I’ve heard so much about.” you blinked in surprise, taken aback by his words. “famous?” you repeated, a bit flustered.

the man nodded enthusiastically. “of course! i’ve heard all about your kimchi ravioli. it’s an honor to finally meet you in person.” you felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, not quite used to such praise. “thank you,” you said, smiling shyly. “but i’m not sure if i’m as famous as you think.”

“nonsense,” hoseok’s cousin replied, waving off your modesty. “your dish is incredible. in fact, i have a little surprise for both of you.” he exchanged a knowing glance with hoseok, who grinned and placed a hand on your back, gently guiding you toward a corner table. you sat down, your curiosity piqued, and watched as hoseok’s cousin disappeared into the kitchen. the restaurant was quiet, only a few other customers scattered about, their soft conversations blending with the faint music playing overhead.

after a few moments, the kitchen doors swung open, and two chefs emerged, each carrying a plate. as they approached, your breath caught in your throat. on each plate was a perfectly presented serving of your kimchi ravioli, the dish that had won over so many palates. the sight of it here, in this small, family-run restaurant, filled you with a sense of pride and disbelief.

“how did you—?” you began, turning to hoseok in astonishment. he simply smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “i made sure to spread the word about your dish,” he said, his voice filled with genuine pride. “you’re a national hit now.”

your heart swelled with emotion, a mix of gratitude and disbelief washing over you. The fact that he had gone out of his way to do this for you, to share your creation with others, touched you deeply. “thank you,” you murmured, your voice thick with sincerity. “i can’t believe you did this.” hoseok’s smile softened, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than usual. “you deserve it,” he said simply.

the meal that followed was nothing short of perfect. the ravioli was just as you had imagined it would be, the flavors dancing on your tongue with each bite. it was a strange but wonderful experience, tasting your own creation in a setting like this, surrounded by people who appreciated it just as much as you did. every now and then, you would glance over at hoseok, and each time, he was watching you with a contented smile, as if seeing you enjoy the meal was satisfaction enough for him.

when the plates were finally empty, he paid the bill despite your protests, and the two of you stepped out into the cool afternoon air. the sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden glow over the city, and as you walked, the conversation flowed easily between you. you found yourself laughing more, the usual walls between you and hoseok slowly crumbling as the day went on.

at one point, you passed by a quaint little chocolate shop with a beautifully arranged display in the window. you stopped in your tracks, drawn to the sight of the delicately crafted chocolates, each one a tiny masterpiece. he noticed your interest and leaned in to peer at the display with you. “which one catches your eye?” he asked, his tone light. you pointed to a small box of chocolates dusted with cocoa powder, their rich, velvety appearance almost too tempting to resist. “those,” you said, a note of longing in your voice. “they look so soft and chewy.”

without another word, he pushed open the door to the shop and stepped inside. you watched from the window as he spoke to the shopkeeper, gesturing toward the chocolates you had pointed out. a few moments later, he emerged with a small box in hand, his smile wide as he extended it to you. “for you,” he said simply.

you took the box from him, your fingers brushing against his in the process. the gesture, though small, warmed your heart. “thank you,” you said, smiling up at him. you opened the box and took out a small pick, ready to try one of the chocolates. but instead of popping it into your own mouth, you surprised hoseok by holding it up to his lips, silently offering him the first taste. he looked at you, momentarily taken aback, before his lips parted slightly, allowing you to place the chocolate on his tongue.

his eyes widened as he savored the taste, a look of pure delight crossing his face. “wow,” he murmured, swallowing. “that’s really good.” you grinned, pleased by his reaction, and finally took a piece for yourself. the chocolate melted in your mouth, rich and smooth, the cocoa powder adding a subtle bitterness that balanced perfectly with the sweetness. it was a moment of shared indulgence, a small but meaningful exchange that seemed to bring the two of you even closer.

as you continued your walk, the conversation shifted to more personal topics. you asked him about his restaurant, about how he had come up with the name “l’espoir.” for a moment, hoseok hesitated, his usual confidence wavering. but then he sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “i’ve always been the one to bring joy to the people close to me,” he began, his voice quieter now. “but when my father was dying, i had to get serious. i had to take on responsibilities I wasn’t ready for, and after he passed, it was like i lost a part of myself. i lost hope.”

you felt a pang of sympathy, the memory of your own loss surfacing in your mind. “i know how that feels,” you said softly. “when my mother passed, i felt like i lost a part of myself too. everything seemed to lose its color, its meaning. cooking was the only thing that kept me going, the only way i could hold on to the memories i had with her.” hoseok’s eyes softened even more at your words, the weight of shared grief settling between you like a silent understanding. he nodded, as if acknowledging the invisible thread that now connected the two of you—one woven from loss, but also from the strength you both found in your passion for cooking.

“i started the restaurant because i wanted to bring that hope back,” he continued, his voice tinged with a quiet resolve. “for myself, and for others. i wanted to create a place where people could feel joy, where they could find comfort in food the way i did. that’s why I named it ‘l’espoir’—hope.” you walked in silence for a moment, absorbing the depth of his words, the sincerity behind them. there was a new layer to hoseok that you hadn’t seen before, a vulnerability that he had hidden behind his confident, sometimes stern exterior. it made you see him in a different light, not just as your superior or the chef who could command a kitchen with ease, but as someone who had faced the same kind of pain you had, someone who had chosen to turn that pain into something beautiful.

“i’m glad you did,” you finally said, your voice gentle but firm. “it’s a place where people can find more than just a meal. it’s a place where they can find a part of themselves, a piece of happiness, even if just for a moment.” he looked at you, his expression one of quiet gratitude. “thank you,” he said, his voice soft but full of emotion. “it means a lot to hear that from you.”

the rest of the walk to your house was filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. the bond between you felt stronger now, deeper, as if you had crossed an invisible line from mere colleagues to something more—friends, perhaps, or something that had the potential to grow even further. when you finally reached your door, you turned to him with a smile. “thank you for today, hoseok. it was unexpected, but in the best way.”

he returned your smile, but there was something more in his eyes now, a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “i should be the one thanking you,” he said, taking a step closer. “you gave me hope today.” his words sent a flutter through your chest, but before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing gently against your forehead. the kiss was soft, barely more than a whisper of a touch, but it sent a wave of warmth through you, leaving you momentarily stunned. your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding as you looked up at him.

when he pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, something tender and unspoken. “i’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his voice low, as if not to break the fragile moment between you. you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. your mind was still reeling from the feel of his lips on your skin, the unexpected intimacy of it. as you watched him walk away, your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling within you—confusion, excitement, but most of all, a sense of anticipation for what might come next.

once he was out of sight, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your fingers lightly brushing the spot where he had kissed you. the warmth lingered, a reminder of the day’s unexpected turns, and as you stepped inside your home, you couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. the rest of the evening passed in a blur. You replayed the events of the day in your mind, each memory filled with vivid detail—the way hoseok had stood up for you on the bus, the pride in his voice when he introduced you to his cousin, the taste of the kimchi ravioli you had created, and finally, the soft, tender kiss he had left on your forehead. each moment felt significant, like pieces of a puzzle slowly coming together, forming a picture you had yet to fully understand.

the next few days with hoseok were like a dream, a soft, hazy blur of moments that felt too good to be true. he was always there—smiling, friendly, attentive in ways that made your heart skip a beat. whether it was a simple greeting in the morning or the way he’d casually ask if you needed anything during the day, his presence was a constant source of warmth and comfort. he had a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel special. if you were chopping vegetables, he’d find a reason to stand beside you, sometimes offering a quick tip on technique, other times just making light conversation that left you smiling. his laughter was infectious, filling the kitchen with a bright, cheerful energy that everyone seemed to notice.

it didn’t take long for the other chefs to start talking. chaeyoung, in particular, couldn’t help but ask you about it one day, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “hey, have you noticed anything different about chef jung lately?” she asked, her voice low as she leaned in closer. you felt your cheeks warm, but you played it cool, feigning innocence with a smile. “no, why do you ask?”

chaeyoung’s eyes narrowed playfully. “oh, come on! don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how he’s been around you lately. it’s like you’re his favorite or something.” your heart fluttered at the thought, but you shook your head, still maintaining the pretense. “i really haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary,” you replied, keeping your tone light. “maybe he’s just in a good mood lately.”

she gave you a knowing look, but before she could press further, hoseok entered the kitchen. as usual, his presence had an immediate effect on everyone—conversations stopped, eyes turned to him. there was an unspoken respect for him that filled the air whenever he walked in, a mix of admiration and a bit of fear. you had grown used to this silence, no longer feeling the same tension as before. Instead, you found yourself feeling at ease, knowing that his attention was likely to land on you with a smile or a kind word. but today was different.

“choi yongsun,” he called out, his voice cutting through the silence. the name took a moment to register. you were in the middle of organizing the ingredients for the day, your mind still half-focused on the conversation with chaeyoung. but when you finally registered the name, your heart stuttered in your chest. a pause followed. the kind of pause that feels like an eternity, stretching the moment out until it’s almost unbearable. you looked up, confusion washing over you as you turned to see another girl—choi yongsun—standing frozen, her eyes wide as she stared at hoseok. “come to my office,” he finished

your entire world stopped spinning. it felt as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. the warmth and comfort you had felt all week vanished, replaced by a cold, gnawing sensation in the pit of your stomach. you couldn’t move, couldn’t think, as the reality of what was happening slowly dawned on you. you were invisible again. hoseok’s attention, his kindness, the gentle smiles and lingering looks—they hadn’t meant what you thought they did. all of it had been a cruel illusion, a fleeting moment that had now passed, leaving you behind like a forgotten afterthought.

your heart shattered in your chest, the pieces scattering in a thousand directions. a dull, numbing pain spread through you, making it hard to focus, hard to keep your composure. you watched as yongsun hesitated, glancing around the room as if seeking reassurance. hoseok’s gaze softened as he met hers, and in that moment, it became clear—she was the one he was focused on now. not you.

blood rushed to your head, the heat of embarrassment and hurt rising until it felt like your skin was on fire. the kitchen, once a place of warmth and comfort, now felt like a cage, trapping you in a nightmare you hadn’t seen coming. you needed to get out. before anyone could notice the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you spun on your heel and bolted from the kitchen. your breath came in shallow gasps as you fled down the hallway, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. the walls blurred as you ran, the sting of tears clouding your vision.

you pushed open the door to the street outside, the cool air hitting your face like a slap. you didn’t stop. you couldn’t. not until you found a cab, your hands shaking as you flagged one down. the ride home was a blur of motion and suppressed sobs. the reality of what had just happened hit you in waves, each one more painful than the last. how had you been so naive? how had you let yourself believe, even for a second, that he saw you as more than just another chef in his kitchen?

the thoughts spiraled, tearing at your already fragile heart. by the time you reached your door, the dam broke. tears flowed freely now, your body shaking with the force of your sobs as you fumbled with your keys, the metal slipping in your trembling hands. finally inside, you collapsed against the door, the sobs wracking your body as you sank to the floor. the realization of how deeply you had let yourself fall, of how thoroughly you had been misled, was crushing. it wasn’t just about hoseok’s attention—it was about the hope you had allowed to bloom, the fragile seed of something more that you had nurtured, only to have it ripped away in an instant.

you had been so foolish to think that he could see you, truly see you, as anything more than just another girl in his life. all the moments you had shared, the laughter, the smiles, the tender words—they were nothing more than fleeting distractions to him, easily replaced the moment someone else caught his eye. and then, as you sat alone on your cold floor, the weight of your own heartbreak settling over you, the tears wouldn’t stop. they flowed endlessly, a river of pain that seemed to have no end, each sob tearing through you with a force that left you breathless.

your thoughts were a tangled mess of hurt, anger, and a deep, aching sadness that hollowed you out from the inside. you had wanted to believe in something more, something real, but now all you were left with was the bitter taste of disappointment. it was over. whatever connection you thought you had with him was nothing more than a cruel joke, a figment of your imagination that had shattered into a million pieces.

the sobs wracked your body, each one tearing through you with a force that left you trembling on the floor. you clutched at your chest as if trying to hold the pieces of your shattered heart together, but it was no use. the pain was too much, the disappointment too deep. tears blurred your vision, and the world around you became a distorted mess of shadows and light.

you didn’t hear the door open. you were too lost in your own anguish, too consumed by the despair that had wrapped itself around your heart like a vise. it wasn’t until you sensed a presence beside you that you looked up, your breath catching in your throat. hoseok stood in the doorway, his expression stricken, eyes filled with a mix of grief and concern. his usually confident stance was gone, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. he took a tentative step toward you, his voice gentle, almost pleading.

“why did you go home?” he asked, his tone filled with an aching sorrow that matched the hurt in your chest. you felt something snap inside you at his words, a flood of emotions rushing to the surface. anger, hurt, betrayal—all of it came pouring out in a torrent as you stared at him through tear-streaked eyes.

“why did i go home?” you repeated, your voice cracking as you tried to keep the sobs at bay. “i thought—i thought you had really changed, hoseok. i thought you were different, that you were finally done with the games. i opened my heart to you, and you just, you went back to the girls in your office like it meant nothing.” your voice broke, the words trembling with the force of your emotions. you didn’t care how vulnerable you sounded, didn’t care that your tears were still falling, staining your cheeks as you looked up at him. all you could think about was the pain of realizing you had been wrong, so very wrong, about him.

hoseok’s face twisted with grief, his eyes darkening with regret as he closed the distance between you. “you’ve got it all wrong,” he said softly, his voice pained as he reached out to you. but you shook your head, pulling away from him as fresh tears welled up in your eyes. “no, i don’t,” you cried, your voice thick with emotion. “you’re an asshole, hoseok. you made me believe in something that wasn’t real. you made me believe that you could be more, that we could be more, and then you just—threw it all away.”

your words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your heartache. hoseok stopped in his tracks, his expression filled with a kind of desperation you hadn’t seen in him before. his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if he was trying to hold himself together. then, slowly, he crouched down in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours. he reached out again, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he was afraid you might shatter if he moved too quickly. his fingers gently wrapped around your hands, warm and comforting, even as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your sobs.

“listen to me,” he murmured, his voice low, soothing. “i did call yongsun into my office. but it wasn’t what you think.” you tried to pull your hands away, the pain in your chest still raw, but he held on, his grip firm yet gentle. he leaned in closer, his gaze searching yours, his voice tender as he continued.

“she was quitting,” he said softly, his breath brushing against your skin. “that’s why i called her in. to talk about her leaving. that’s all.” you froze, your breath catching in your throat as his words registered. the hurt, the anger—everything you had been feeling—wavered, uncertainty creeping in. you searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he might be lying, but all you saw was sincerity, a raw honesty that made your heart stutter in your chest.

“you—you really didn’t sleep with her?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if you were afraid to even ask. a small, sad smile tugged at the corners of hoseok’s lips. he shook his head, his thumb brushing gently across the back of your hand. “of course, i didn’t,” he murmured. “i could never do that to you.”

relief washed over you, a wave of emotion so strong it left you breathless. the tears that had been born of heartbreak now turned to something else—something softer, warmer. they slipped down your cheeks in quiet streams, and hoseok reached up, brushing them away with his fingertips. “it’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you closer. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.” you didn’t resist as he gathered you into his arms, his warmth seeping into you, chasing away the cold that had settled in your heart. he held you like you were something precious, something fragile, and the care in his touch only made the tears fall faster.

you buried your face in his shoulder, the scent of him—familiar, comforting—wrapping around you like a balm for your wounded heart. his hands moved up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes, his presence grounding you, anchoring you in a moment that felt too real, too tender to be anything but the truth. for a long time, neither of you said anything. there were no words needed, no explanations to be given. all that mattered was the way he held you, the way he made you feel safe, cherished, loved.

and then, slowly, gently, hoseok pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft as they searched your face. his hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears as he leaned in. the kiss was soft, tentative, a whisper of a touch that sent a shiver down your spine. his lips were warm against yours, his breath mingling with yours in a way that felt like coming home. there was no rush, no urgency—just a quiet, tender moment that spoke of all the things neither of you could put into words.

you leaned into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as the kiss grew deeper, more passionate. you could feel his heart racing against yours, the beat a frantic echo of the need that was building inside you. the taste of him was like a drug, something you hadn’t realized you’d been craving until now. your body responded, your nipples tightening against the fabric of your shirt, your pussy growing wet with desire.

his hands slipped down to your waist, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips before sliding around to the small of your back. he pulled you closer, aligning your bodies so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against your stomach. you moaned into his mouth, the heat between you growing with every passing second. his touch grew bolder, more insistent, as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs playing with your nipples through the fabric. the sensation sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making you arch into his touch.

you broke the kiss, panting, to look up at him. his eyes were dark with need, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. “i’m sorry for hurting you. for making you doubt me. i’ll do anything to make it up to you, to show you how much you mean to me.” his words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the last of the raw edges of your heartache. you reached up, placing your hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “make love to me, hoseok,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “show me that we’re okay.”

his eyes searched yours for a moment, looking for confirmation, for permission. and when you nodded, a soft smile curved his lips. he stood, pulling you to your feet, and then he was leading you to the bedroom, his hand warm and firm in yours. the room was bathed in soft, golden light from the setting sun, casting shadows across the bed that was already calling to you. you could feel your heart racing, your body thrumming with anticipation as he began to undress you, his eyes never leaving yours.

once you were naked, he took a moment to just look at you, his gaze roving over your body with a kind of reverence that made you feel beautiful, desired. his hands followed, tracing the lines of your collarbone, your ribs, the swell of your hips. he leaned down, his mouth following the path his hands had taken, placing kisses along the way. you shivered, your skin coming alive under his touch. when he finally reached your breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth, suckling gently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you moan.

his hand moved between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, stroking it lightly, teasing it until you were begging for more. but hoseok was in no hurry. he took his time, exploring every inch of you, building the tension until you were on the edge, your body quivering with need. and when he finally slid into you, it was with a slow, deliberate movement that made you gasp. his cock was huge, stretching you in a way that was both painful and beautiful. you felt so full, so complete, as he filled you completely.

his strokes were gentle at first, almost tender, as if he was afraid of hurting you. but as you grew more and more desperate, he picked up the pace, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had you clinging to the edge of climax. he whispered dirty, filthy words in your ear, praising your body, your tightness, your beauty, and each one sent a fresh wave of heat through you. his attentiveness was intoxicating, his sensitivity to your needs surprising and arousing.

his thumb found your clit again, pressing down firmly as he fucked you harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. you could feel your orgasm building, a storm rising inside you, threatening to break. and when it did, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before—a white-hot explosion of pleasure that had you crying out his name, your body convulsing around his cock.

hoseok’s eyes never left yours, watching you intently as you rode out the waves of your climax. his own release followed closely, his hips jerking as he came deep inside you, his warmth filling you up. he collapsed against you, his chest heaving with the exertion. for a moment, you just lay there, tangled in the sheets, your bodies slick with sweat, hearts beating in sync.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him close, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. he kissed you again, deep and slow, his tongue stroking yours in a gentle dance that spoke of a connection that went beyond the physical. it was a promise, a declaration of love and devotion, and it made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

once you’d both caught your breath, hoseok pulled out of you, his cock still hard and glistening. without a word, he reached for the box of condoms on the nightstand, his eyes never leaving yours. you watched as he rolled one on, his movements sure and practiced, and then he was back, pushing into you again. the feeling of him bare inside you was different this time, a thrill that sent shivers down your spine. you knew it was risky, but with hoseok, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

his strokes grew slower, more deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he made love to you with a kind of tenderness that was almost overwhelming. every thrust was a silent promise, every kiss a vow to never hurt you again. and as you came apart in his arms, your bodies melding together in a symphony of passion, you knew that that was where you were meant to be—right there, with hoseok, forever.

✧.*

a/n: this one was lowk ass

what if i

save me (구해줘) - bae joohyun (배주현)

✧.* WC: 54.7K

✧.* SYN: you didn’t know how you ended up in the situation you found yourself in, you didn’t know when you had started loving as hard as you did, nor when she had started hating just as hard. maybe it wasn’t hate, but it wasn’t love. maybe if you were a boy, it would’ve been love.

✧.* 18+

in the quiet moments of life, when the world seemed to blur at the edges and the noise of everyday chaos faded into a distant hum, there was a time when having that one true friend felt like the most profound of blessings. it was as if the universe had conspired to place a beacon of light in the path of your journey, a steadfast flame that illuminated even the darkest of nights. not just a companion, but a reflection of the truest parts of oneself—someone who understood the unspoken language of your soul.

in her presence, there was no need for pretense. the masks worn for the world were cast aside, revealing the raw, unfiltered essence of who you were. she saw you not as a collection of faults and frailties, but as a masterpiece in progress, a soul worthy of love and respect. the beauty of her companionship lay in its unwavering reliability. no matter the storm, no matter the upheaval, she stood by you—a pillar of strength when yours faltered, a reservoir of calm when your heart was in turmoil.

together, you shared the subtle joys of life—the quiet satisfaction of a shared silence, the comfort of knowing glances, the unspoken understanding that words could never fully encapsulate. with her, even the simplest moments took on a golden hue: a walk through a park became an exploration of the world’s wonders, a shared meal transformed into a sacred ritual, and laughter—oh, the laughter!—was a melody that lingered long after the echoes had faded.

in her presence, you found the courage to dream and the strength to pursue those dreams. she believed in you when you struggled to believe in yourself, offering a hand to lift you up, a shoulder to lean on, and a heart that beat in sync with yours. her friendship was not just a connection, but a lifeline—a reminder that even in the vast expanse of existence, you were never truly alone.

looking back, the memory of that friendship was like a warm embrace, a cherished relic of a time when life’s complexities were softened by the simplicity of true companionship. it was a time when you knew, with absolute certainty, that no matter what the future held, you had been blessed to experience the beauty of having a friend—a true friend—by your side.

joohyun had always been your anchor in the storm, the quiet, composed presence that kept you tethered when life felt like it was pulling you in every direction at once. even as children, when your world revolved around scraped knees and backyard adventures, joohyun was the one who kept you grounded. she was the kind of girl who never lost her cool, who knew exactly what she wanted and never wavered in her pursuit of it. you admired her for that.

she was the opposite of you in so many ways. where she was serious and composed, you were carefree, often impulsive. you leapt before you looked, chasing after whatever caught your eye without a second thought. and yet, despite your differences, she never made you feel small or foolish. if anything, she seemed to find your antics amusing, a quiet smile playing on her lips whenever you dragged her into yet another one of your wild schemes. you liked her just the way she was—quiet, steady, always a little bit mysterious. and she didn’t mind you either. you were her sunshine in the rain, a burst of light in her more subdued world.

she was there for you in every sense of the word. when you fell as a child, bruising your knees on the pavement, she would scold you for being careless even as she carefully cleaned your wounds, her touch gentle and sure. it was a ritual between the two of you—your recklessness, her quiet care. she was the one who eased you through the tumultuous years of puberty, when your body and mind seemed at war with each other. she never judged you for the confusion, the frustration that bubbled over in those moments when you didn’t quite know who you were. instead, she listened, her calm presence a balm to your troubled thoughts.

when you came out, stumbling over your words as you tried to explain something you barely understood yourself, she was the one who made it simple. “you’re no different from me,” she had said, her voice steady, her eyes warm with understanding. “we breathe, we eat, we live. why would you be ashamed of your heart?” in that moment, you had never felt more seen, more accepted. it was as though she had lifted a weight from your shoulders, giving you the courage to embrace who you were without fear.

joohyun was always there for you, a constant in a world that was anything but. and even when life took you to the other side of the world, to the states for work, that bond remained unbroken. the physical distance never seemed to matter. you were used to calling her at odd hours, checking in to make sure she was eating properly, that she was taking care of herself. it was a habit born of years of friendship, one that neither of you ever questioned.

but this time, it was different. you were in the middle of a meeting, your mind focused on the endless stream of tasks that came with your job, when your phone buzzed with an incoming call. you didn’t even need to look at the screen to know it was joohyun. she knew your schedule by heart, knew when you were busy and when you were free. that she was calling now, in the middle of your workday, meant something was wrong.

her words, when you answered, were stark, devoid of the usual warmth that colored her voice. “my mother died,” she said, the words falling like stones into the silence between you. there was a pause, a breath where you struggled to process the enormity of what she had just told you. and then, in that same flat tone, she added, “there was a fire.”

the details came in disjointed fragments, each more harrowing than the last. her mother had been alone in the house, a house that joohyun had worked so hard to make a home. she had left the stove on, a simple mistake, and fallen asleep. by the time joohyun returned, there was nothing left. the fire had taken everything, reducing the place she had grown up in, the place where she had cared for her mother, to ashes.

the first thing she did was call you. she didn’t ask you to come, didn’t plead for your help, because she didn’t have to. she knew, with the same certainty that had defined your friendship for all these years, that you would come. you always did when it was for her.

and so, you booked the first flight back to korea, your heart heavy with the knowledge that this time, it was your turn to be her anchor, to be the steady presence that she had always been for you. as the plane took off, you stared out the window, watching the world below grow smaller and smaller, and thought of joohyun, alone in the aftermath of her loss.

you had been apart for so long, each of you building your lives on opposite sides of the world, but none of that mattered now. what mattered was that she needed you, just as you had needed her so many times before. the memory of her voice, so calm and composed even in the face of tragedy, echoed in your mind. you knew that when you saw her, she would still be that same joohyun—serious, composed, always in control. but you also knew that beneath that facade, she was hurting in a way she had never hurt before.

and you would be there for her, just as she had always been there for you. you would stand by her side, through the grief and the pain, through the long nights and the endless days. because that was what friendship meant—being there, no matter what, no matter how much time had passed or how far apart you had been. you would be her sunshine in the rain, once more.

the plane jolted as it touched down, pulling you abruptly from the cascade of thoughts that had been swirling in your mind. you couldn’t quite grasp the exact contents of those thoughts—they were a tangled web of worry, hope, and anticipation—but you knew they all revolved around her. joohyun. how you could help her, what the first step would be, how you would even begin to approach her after six long years apart. the thoughts clung to you like a persistent mist, following you even as you gathered your luggage, your senses taking in the familiar sights and sounds of korea. the country’s beauty was as unyielding as ever, its landscapes and cityscapes a comforting reminder of home.

but then, you saw her. she was standing near the arrival gate, her presence immediately recognizable even from a distance. you noticed her long before she spotted you, and in that instant, all those tangled thoughts seemed to evaporate, replaced by a single, clear realization: korea wasn’t the only thing that had remained beautiful. joohyun had changed in the years you had been apart, yet she was still the same in so many ways.

she had grown taller, taller than you at least, and the once slight frame of the teenager you had known had matured into that of a woman. her black hair framed her face in a way that accentuated her features, and though her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever, you knew she was hurting. even so, when she finally noticed you, her eyes betrayed her, lighting up for just a fraction of a second. a smile, small and fleeting, touched her lips, but she quickly tucked it away, maintaining the calm composure she was known for. she slipped her hands into her pockets and turned toward you with a measured nod, a subtle acknowledgment of your presence.

you didn’t hesitate. how could you? the handle of your suitcase slipped from your grasp, forgotten as you broke into a run. you closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, your heart pounding in your chest, not from exertion but from the overwhelming emotion that surged through you. the moment you reached her, you threw your arms around her, rising onto your toes to bury your face in the familiar curve of her neck. for a heartbeat, she seemed frozen in place, her body stiff against yours. how long had it been? six years since you last saw her, standing in this very airport, waving goodbye as you left for the states. you had changed—grown taller, perhaps prettier—but as you held her, it was clear that some things hadn’t changed at all.

you hugged her just as you always had, with all the intensity of someone who had been holding on to their memories for far too long. and then, slowly, she hugged you back. her arms wrapped around you in that same calm, steady way, and you could feel her relax into the embrace, allowing herself to absorb the warmth she had been without for so many years.

when you finally pulled back, your face broke into a broad smile. “i missed you so much,” you whispered, the words tumbling out with all the pent-up emotion you had carried across oceans and time zones. she scoffed softly, her eyes flicking to yours, and you saw the faint blur of tears in your vision. “i can’t believe you’re crying,” she said, her voice light but with an undertone that spoke of something deeper. she paused, and in that moment, there was a tenderness in her gaze that you rarely saw. “you haven’t changed at all.”

her words tugged at something in your heart, a mix of warmth and a sadness that threatened to spill over. but she held it together, even as the sight of your tears seemed to break something inside her. you shook your head and wiped your eyes with a small, resigned sigh. “you’re so cold,” you joked, your voice a little unsteady but filled with affection. “you haven’t changed either.”

a small smile curved her lips, a smile that was all the more precious because it was so rare. without another word, you both turned to retrieve your suitcase from where it had fallen, and as you walked back together, side by side, you felt the weight of all those years apart begin to lift. there was still so much to say, so much to do, but for now, it was enough to be here with her. just like old times.

the drive through the familiar streets of korea felt like stepping back into a dream you had almost forgotten. the air was thick with the scent of home, a mixture of city life and something more intangible, something that spoke of all the memories you had left behind. you leaned out the window, letting the breeze play with your hair, your eyes drinking in the sights you hadn’t seen in years. everything felt the same, yet different—like revisiting a childhood haunt and realizing you’re not the same person who once walked those streets.

your thoughts drifted, slipping into the past, to all the moments you and joohyun had shared in this very city. the streets were filled with ghosts of your younger selves, echoes of laughter, of late-night talks, of dreams spoken in hushed voices. you were so lost in the haze of nostalgia that you barely noticed when the window began to close, the glass rising slowly until it was halfway shut. the abruptness startled you, and you whipped your head around to see joohyun, her fingers still on the button, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

“a warning would be nice next time,” you scowled, half-serious, half-amused.

she chuckled, the sound low and soft, a quiet expression of the emotions she kept tightly guarded. you could see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders seemed lighter than they had been in the airport. despite everything she had lost, despite the crushing weight of her grief, she was happy to have you back, more than words could ever express. and perhaps that was why she didn’t say anything at all, letting the silence between you speak for her.

as the car continued its journey through the city, you leaned back against the seat, turning to face her. “you must be going through a lot,” you said gently, the words careful, cautious. you didn’t want to break her, but you couldn’t ignore the pain you knew she was holding inside. you watched as her face, momentarily softened by your presence, grew distant once more, a shadow passing over her features. “i’m sorry i wasn’t there,” you added, the apology hanging in the air between you like an unanswered question.

she shrugged, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, her expression unreadable. “not your fault,” she replied, her voice steady but detached. “you had work.” you frowned, knowing she was trying to shield you from the guilt, trying to make it easier for you to accept that life had pulled you away when she needed you most. but it didn’t lessen the ache in your chest, the regret that gnawed at you. “everything’s gone, isn’t it?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“the house is gone,” she answered, her voice dropping to a cold, emotionless tone that sent a shiver down your spine. her face hardened, her jaw tightening as she paused, a bitter smile flickering and dying as quickly as it had appeared. “but i’m not sure about everything else.”

a sprinkle of hope sparked within you, a fragile, flickering flame that there might be something left—something worth salvaging from the wreckage. “let’s go to your place first,” you suggested, your voice infused with a determination you hoped would give her strength. then, more gently, you added, “you’ll stay with me until we find you a new place.”

she nodded, her eyes still glued to the road, her hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. you knew this was a heartbreaking experience for her, more than you could ever truly understand. the loss of her mother, the destruction of her home—it was a devastation that would take years to heal, if it ever did. but selfishly, you couldn’t help wanting her close, wanting to keep her with you for as long as possible. perhaps it was your own fear, your own need to hold onto the one person who had always been your anchor.

the moment you reached the house, or rather, the charred remains of what once had been a home, joohyun’s face remained a mask of unreadable calm. but as you caught a glimpse of the scene in the rearview mirror, your own composure shattered. the sight of the blackened skeleton that was once her house, her sanctuary, hit you like a physical blow. a gasp escaped your lips as you fumbled with the door handle, stumbling out of the car before joohyun had even unbuckled her seatbelt. you rushed toward the yard, your breath hitching as you took in the devastation.

it was all gone. the house, the memories, the warmth that had once filled this place—it had all truly burned down. the structure was a ruin, a husk of twisted metal and ash, standing like a ghost in the pale light of the day. you felt a deep, aching sense of loss as you recalled the times you had spent here with joohyun and her mother. you remembered the afternoons spent sharing homemade cookies, the evenings where laughter filled the air, and even the night you shared your first sip of alcohol under the watchful, yet understanding eyes of her mother. these were moments that had seemed eternal at the time, woven into the fabric of this place. but now, they had vanished as if they had never been, reduced to nothing more than smoke and ash.

you didn’t even notice joohyun’s presence behind you until her voice broke through the heavy silence. “it’s a mess, isn’t it?” she said, her tone flat, almost detached.

you nodded weakly, amazed at the way she managed to hold herself together. she stood beside you, her gaze sweeping over the ruins with a cold, steady look, as if she had already accepted the loss, as if the sight of it didn’t break her heart anew. you both walked into the scattered remains, your steps cautious, as if you were treading through sacred ground. the once vibrant garden was now nothing but a patch of dirt, the flowers and grass scorched away, leaving behind a barren wasteland. the house, where her mother had once bustled about, was reduced to a skeleton of beams and charred wood. it was hard to tell where anything had been, where her mother had spent her last moments, because everything was gone, indistinguishable from the rest of the debris.

you took it all in, every agonizing detail, trying to grasp the magnitude of the loss, until joohyun’s voice cut through your thoughts. “holy shit,” she muttered, her voice tight with disbelief.

you turned to see her standing in the far corner of what had once been the living room, her frame bent over something small and dark against the ash-covered ground. your heart clenched as you rushed over, dread twisting in your gut. “what happened?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. but as you reached her, you didn’t need an answer. the sight before you told the story in heart-wrenching clarity.

there, half-buried in the soot and debris, were the melted remains of piano keys. they were barely recognizable, twisted and warped beyond repair, but you knew exactly what they were. they had once been part of a beautiful piano, a gift from her mother, a lifeline for joohyun. it was the one thing that had always grounded her, the thing that had held her together when everything else was falling apart. now, it too was destroyed, reduced to a pitiful pile of warped plastic and charred wood.

“you’ve gotta be kidding,” she scoffed, her voice bitter, filled with a frustration that bordered on anger. she stood up suddenly, her face twisted with emotion, and with a sharp kick, she sent the remains of the keys scattering across the ground. the act was one of raw, unfiltered rage, a moment where the grief she had been holding back finally broke through the surface.

you watched her, helpless, feeling the weight of her pain settle heavily in your chest. “i’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice trembling, but you knew the words were inadequate. they could do nothing to bring back what had been lost. joohyun didn’t respond, her expression blank as she turned away from the wreckage and made her way back to the car. you stood there for a moment longer, staring at the scattered keys, the last remnants of something that had once brought her so much joy. there was nothing left for you to do here, nothing to salvage from the ashes. with a heavy heart, you turned and followed her, the weight of her grief pressing down on you like a physical thing.

the drive back home was steeped in silence, a quiet so profound that it felt almost sacred. you had insisted on taking over the wheel, and joohyun hadn’t argued. she simply nodded, slipping into the passenger seat with an almost mechanical grace, her body sagging against the window. you glanced at her from time to time as you drove, the road ahead a blur of gray asphalt and muted city lights. her eyes were distant, lost somewhere deep within herself, her thoughts wrapped tightly around the remnants of the life she had just left behind.

you wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension, to pull her back from whatever dark place she had retreated to. but the words felt clumsy and inadequate in your mouth. still, you couldn’t stand the silence, so you spoke softly, hoping your voice might reach her. “don’t worry too much about it,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the road ahead.

she didn’t respond, her gaze remaining fixed on the passing scenery outside the window, her reflection barely visible in the glass. you bit your lip, realizing that your attempt to comfort her had fallen flat. maybe she wasn’t ready to talk, maybe she just needed this silence to process everything. so, you let it be, sinking into your own thoughts, the quiet stretching between you like a fragile thread.

when you finally arrived at your house, the familiarity of it brought a wave of unexpected comfort. it was as if no time had passed at all—the same wooden porch, the same door with the paint slightly chipped at the edges, the same sense of home that had always been there. you hadn’t put the place up for rent or sale, too sentimental to let go of the memories embedded in its walls. the house had always been a repository of your past, a place where you had tucked away moments too precious to be shared with the world. it seemed you were more sentimental than joohyun, who had always moved forward with a quiet, determined resolve, leaving the past where it belonged.

she took your suitcase from the trunk as you fumbled with your keys, her movements steady and purposeful despite the exhaustion you knew she must have been feeling. when you finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, the smell hit you first—a mix of wood, dust, and something uniquely yours. it was the smell of home, unchanged by the years. the interior was the same too, a snapshot frozen in time, as if the house itself had been waiting for your return.

joohyun stepped inside and paused, her eyes sweeping over the familiar surroundings. she took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the effort, and you could see a small measure of the tension drain from her. “make yourself at home,” you said softly, watching as she nodded in response, her eyes still distant but a little less haunted.

she walked over to the couch and planted herself on it, her movements slow, almost lethargic. you stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before you saw her reach into her pocket and pull out a small box. she fumbled with it, drawing out a cigarette and placing it between her lips. her eyes flickered up to meet yours, a silent question lingering in the air between you. “can i smoke inside?” she asked, her voice flat, almost dispassionate.

you nodded with a small smile, understanding the need behind the request. joohyun had always been a smoker, though only in times of stress, when the world seemed too heavy to bear on her own. you had never liked the taste of cigarettes, the acrid smell that clung to the air, but you understood that this was her way of coping, of finding a moment’s peace amidst the chaos.

she fumbled with the cigarette for a moment longer before muttering a soft, “shit,” her frustration evident in the way her shoulders tensed. she turned to you again, her expression a mix of exasperation and helplessness. “do you have a lighter by any chance?”

you thought about it for a second, recalling the small collection you had accumulated over the years. you weren’t a smoker yourself, but you had always kept lighters around, just for her. joohyun had a habit of half-assing her smoking, never bothering to carry a lighter with her. it had become something of a ritual for you, collecting lighters and storing them in a bowl on the counter, ready for whenever she might need one.

without a word, you walked over to the counter and pulled out a white lighter from the bowl. but before you handed it to her, an idea struck you. You reached into a drawer, pulling out a marker, and carefully wrote her initials—J.H.—on the side of the lighter. it was a small gesture, but one filled with meaning, a way of telling her that you were thinking of her, that you would always be there to support her, even in the smallest of ways.

you handed her the lighter with a grin, your eyes warm as you said, “there you go,” pausing before adding with a playful smile, “now you have your own lighter.”

she took it quietly, her fingers brushing against yours as she accepted the small gift. her face remained unreadable, but there was a softness in her eyes, a flicker of emotion that she didn’t bother to hide. a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and though she didn’t say anything, that smile said enough.

as you settled into your room, the familiar routine of unpacking your suitcase offered a strange comfort, a sense of returning to something long forgotten yet deeply cherished. you laid out your clothes carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles with your hands as you arranged them on the bed. each garment held a memory, a fragment of the past that you couldn’t help but savor. the room was bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, the shadows stretching across the walls in long, gentle strokes. you took your time, enjoying the simple act of putting your life back in order after the chaos of travel.

your makeup followed suit, each item placed with precision on the dresser. you smiled to yourself as you laid out the small tubes of lipstick, the compacts of blush, the brushes and powders. the thought of sharing these things with joohyun filled you with a nostalgic warmth. it was just like when you were younger, when you would sit cross-legged on the floor of your old room, giggling as you applied cheap makeup to each other’s faces, or swapped clothes in a flurry of fabric before heading out. nothing had changed, it seemed, despite the years that had stretched between then and now.

you glanced over at the clothes you had neatly stacked on the bed. some were from your suitcase, others you had pulled from your closet. they were a mix of styles, colors, and textures, each piece carefully chosen with joohyun in mind. you wanted her to feel at home, to feel cared for, to know that you would do anything to ease her burden, even if it was just something as simple as offering her a change of clothes.

you didn’t notice her presence at first—not until the faint, familiar scent of cigarette smoke reached your nose. you turned to see her standing in the doorway, the cigarette poised between her fingers, a thin trail of smoke curling upwards. she looked at you, her expression unreadable, but there was a softness in her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.

a smile tugged at your lips as you gestured to the clothes on the bed. “i figured you’d need this,” you said, your voice light but filled with meaning. “but we’ll have to go out and buy some more.” you paused, suddenly unsure. “is this okay?”

she nodded, her gaze shifting to the clothes as she approached the bed. she sat down on the edge, her fingers brushing lightly over the fabric, tracing the patterns as if trying to commit them to memory. a dry laugh escaped her lips, a sound that was both bitter and amused. “just like old times,” she murmured, almost to herself. it was as if she had plucked the thought straight from your mind.

you nodded in agreement, the memories flooding back with a bittersweet intensity. “i can get the guest room ready for you in a bit,” you offered, your voice softer now, tinged with a nervous energy you couldn’t quite place.

but she shook her head, catching you off guard. “what? we can share clothes but not a bed?” her tone was teasing, a playful challenge meant to lighten the mood, but it had the opposite effect. your breath caught in your throat, a rush of old, buried feelings surfacing unexpectedly. the thought of sharing a bed with her, of being so close to her again after all this time—it was both thrilling and terrifying.

she seemed to notice the change in your expression, her teasing smile fading into something more serious. “if you’re uncomfortable with it, i’ll sleep in the other room,” she offered, her voice gentle, as if trying to soothe whatever inner turmoil you were suddenly grappling with. you were quick to protest, shaking your head as you rushed to reassure her. “no, it’s fine. it won’t be a problem at all.”

she nodded, accepting your words without question, but there was a hint of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe just a quiet understanding. she stood up, taking the folded pajamas from the bed before making her way toward the bathroom. the door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone in the silence of your room, the air heavy with the scent of her cigarette.

you sat down on the bed, your hands trembling slightly as you smoothed out the fabric of the sheets. what was wrong with you? why were you so on edge? this was joohyun, your lifelong friend, the person who had been by your side through everything. sharing a bed with her should have been the most natural thing in the world, just like old times.

but as you sat there, your heart beating a little too fast, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. maybe it was the passage of time, the years that had slipped by while you were apart. or maybe it was the weight of everything that had happened, the loss and the grief that hung between you like a thick fog. whatever it was, it left you feeling unsettled, your thoughts spiraling in directions you hadn’t expected.

you left your room, the silence of the house pressing in around you, each step muffled by the soft carpet beneath your feet. the air was still, the kind of stillness that held its breath in anticipation, as if waiting for something to break the quiet. you walked toward the kitchen, the thought of preparing something to eat offering a welcome distraction from the strange tension that had settled in your chest.

but as you passed the bathroom, something caught your eye—a sliver of light, the door left slightly ajar. it was a small thing, easily ignored, yet you found yourself pausing. without thinking, you reached out to close it, your hand hovering just above the wood. but before you could move, your gaze drifted through the narrow opening, and what you saw made your breath hitch in your throat.

joohyun was inside, her back to you as she stood by the sink. her pajamas lay folded on the counter, and she was undressing, peeling off her clothes with a slow, deliberate grace that made your heart stutter in your chest. the shirt slipped from her shoulders, revealing the smooth, pale curve of her back, each motion unhurried, almost languid, as if she had all the time in the world. you should have looked away. you knew you should have walked away, closed the door and given her privacy. but you couldn’t move, couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of her.

the room seemed to shrink around you, the walls pressing in as your mind raced. this wasn’t the first time you’d seen her like this; you had grown up together, had shared everything from clothes to secrets. you’d bathed together as toddlers, innocent and carefree, unaware of the changes that time would bring. but now, standing there with your heart pounding in your ears, you realized with startling clarity that something had changed.

you forced yourself to turn away, to drag your gaze from her and step back into the hallway. your heart was still racing, a wild, erratic beat that echoed in the silence. “what’s wrong with you?” you whispered to yourself, trying to shake off the feeling that had lodged itself deep in your chest, a mixture of confusion, longing, and something you couldn’t quite name. you felt the tension gathering in your throat, the way your breath came in shallow, uneven bursts. you swallowed hard, trying to push it down, to regain some semblance of control as you made your way to the kitchen.

the kitchen was familiar and comforting in its simplicity. the countertops were just as you remembered, the cabinets filled with the same mismatched dishes you had grown up with. you focused on the task at hand, letting the routine of cooking ground you, offering a distraction from the turmoil that had erupted within you. you set about preparing a meal, the rhythmic motions of chopping and stirring soothing your frayed nerves.

but no matter how hard you tried, the feeling lingered, a ghostly presence that hovered just out of reach, impossible to ignore. your hands moved automatically, muscle memory guiding you as you worked, but your mind was elsewhere, replaying the scene in the bathroom over and over. you could still see her in your mind’s eye, the way her shirt had fallen away, the curve of her spine, the gentle slope of her shoulders.

you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear her approach until it was too late. her voice cut through the quiet, startling you. “you’re still a mess in the kitchen,” she remarked, a teasing lilt to her tone. “how you managed six years alone is a mystery.” you turned to face her, trying to muster a smile, but she caught the look on your face, her own expression shifting from playful to concerned.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

if only it were that simple, you thought, the words catching in your throat. how could you explain the tangled mess of emotions that had suddenly overwhelmed you? the way your heart had reacted to seeing her, the strange, inexplicable pull you felt toward her? you swallowed hard, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

“i’m just tired,” you lied, your voice too tight, too thin to be convincing. but she didn’t press further, didn’t question you as you turned back to the stove. yet you could feel the weight of her gaze on you, the unspoken words hanging in the air between you.

you focused on the food, on the simple, mundane act of cooking, but your hands betrayed you, trembling slightly as you worked. the knife slipped once, twice, but you caught it each time, cursing under your breath. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to feel like this, to be so affected by something so simple, so innocuous. but no matter how hard you tried to push it away, the feeling remained, an undercurrent of tension that refused to dissipate. as you stood there in the kitchen, the scent of the meal you were preparing mingling with the faint trace of her cigarette smoke, you couldn’t help but wonder what this all meant. what had changed between you and joohyun? and why, after all these years, did it feel like something was about to break?

you carefully laid out two plates of spicy fish stew on the living room table, the rich, aromatic scent of the dish filling the room. the stew, vibrant with its red chili paste, was a testament to the fiery flavors that defined so much of the cuisine you cherished. the warm, spicy aroma wafted through the room, mingling with the comforting ambiance of your home. joohyun looked up from her seat on the couch, her eyes brightening as she took in the meal you had prepared. “thank you,” she said with a smile, her voice carrying a hint of genuine appreciation.

you both settled into the comfortable cushions, the familiarity of the living room wrapping around you like an old friend. as you began to dig into the stew, you couldn’t help but comment, “i think koreans have a blood that’s more red than others.” she looked up at you with a puzzled expression. “what do you mean?”

“it’s because of the chili paste,” you explained, chuckling at her confusion. she scoffed, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched you. a few moments later, the spicy kick of the stew hit your tongue with a vengeance, making you cough uncontrollably. the heat was intense, the spices dancing on the surface of your tongue. joohyun’s teasing voice cut through your coughing fit. “your blood must’ve paled. the states really got to you, huh?”

you shot her a look, downing your water in a bid to cool the fire that was blazing in your mouth. despite the pain, you found solace in the comforting routine of the meal, the familiar tastes grounding you in a way that was both soothing and unsettling. the meal was undeniably comforting, the taste of home a balm to your frayed nerves. yet, as you washed the plates afterward, a sense of unease lingered in the air. everything felt as it should, yet something was subtly amiss. the house, the food, the company—all were familiar, but the undercurrent of tension remained present, like a shadow lurking just out of sight.

you looked over at joohyun, who was now sprawled on the couch, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. the television played in the background, but she paid it no mind, her fingers absently playing with the lighter. the small flame flickered on and off, casting brief, dancing shadows on her face. concerned, you took a seat beside her, breaking the silence with a soft question. “are you sure you’ll be okay?” she nodded, her gaze still unfocused. “i’m just thinking,” she said quietly. “about her.”

your heart ached at the raw emotion in her voice. “you must miss her, don’t you?” she shrugged, a hint of resignation in her tone. “everybody dies, right? i just wanna know what happens after, where you go when the end comes.”

the question was profound, echoing a sentiment that you had grappled with yourself. the uncertainty of what lay beyond was a question without a definitive answer, only a spectrum of beliefs and hopes. you tried to offer a sliver of optimism, hoping it would bring her some comfort. “if there’s a heaven, she’ll be the first one there.”

joohyun’s eyes met yours, a flicker of sadness mingled with hope in their depths. “i wanna go there, too.”

her words cut through you, a sharp pang of emotion striking deep within. you fought to keep your voice steady, a smile curving your lips despite the ache in your chest. “you will. why wouldn’t you?”

her gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight of her grief seemed to lift just slightly. the two of you sat together in silence, the room filled with the quiet hum of the television and the occasional flicker of the lighter. you wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that there was a place beyond the pain and loss, where those we love could find peace.

your room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting gentle shadows on the walls that seemed to whisper of the past. the familiar scent of lavender, the same scent you had always kept in the room, lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the stew you had prepared earlier. everything was exactly as you remembered it—your room, your bed, the slight creak of the wooden floorboards beneath your feet. yet, despite the comforting familiarity, your heart was pounding with an intensity that left you breathless.

you approached the bed with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. joohyun was already settled on her side, claiming the left side of the bed. she had always preferred that side, a small detail that seemed so insignificant yet felt profoundly comforting now. you climbed in carefully, trying to mask the nervous tremor in your movements. the bed was just as you remembered—soft, with a slight dip in the middle where you had spent countless nights, and the same plush pillows that had witnessed many shared conversations and quiet moments.

as you eased yourself into your side of the bed, joohyun turned toward you, a yawn escaping her lips. “i’m so tired,” she murmured, her voice carrying a weary undertone that spoke of the long day she had endured. “fuck.”

you settled into your spot, your head sinking into the pillow. “get some rest,” you said softly. “as long as you want.”

she nodded, her gaze following your movements as you found your place beside her. the silence that fell between you was thick but not uncomfortable. it was a silence filled with the weight of years spent apart, of memories rekindled and emotions left unspoken. you turned to face her, your eyes meeting hers in the dim light. in that silence, everything seemed magnified—the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the way the moonlight played on her features, the softness of her hair spread across the pillow. you couldn’t help but watch her, taking in every detail as if memorizing it.

joohyun broke the silence with a quiet, almost hesitant whisper. “i missed you.”

her words were a soft, tender balm to the ache that had settled in your heart. your own heart fluttered at her admission, and a genuine smile spread across your face. “i missed you too.”

a small, wistful smile graced her lips in return, a fleeting moment of warmth that seemed to bridge the gap of the years you had spent apart. then, she closed her eyes, the smile lingering just a moment longer before it faded into the peaceful stillness of sleep. the room was silent except for the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing and the steady, insistent pounding of your heart. it was a sound that filled your ears, a reminder of the emotion you felt, the connection you cherished. as you lay there, your gaze fixed on the ceiling, you allowed yourself to relax into the bed. despite the pounding of your heart, there was a sense of contentment, of belonging, that wrapped around you like a gentle embrace.

when you woke up, the room was still shrouded in the soft, early morning light. joohyun lay beside you, her form curled comfortably into the pillows, her breathing slow and steady. she looked so serene, her features softened in sleep, and for a moment, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. the stillness of her slumber, the peace etched across her face—it felt like a delicate treasure that you didn’t want to disturb.

quietly, you eased yourself out of bed, taking care not to make a sound. the soft rustling of the sheets was the only noise you allowed yourself as you moved about. you dressed carefully, each motion deliberate and soft, ensuring that nothing would rouse her from her restful state.

once you were ready, you padded softly to the door, feeling a peculiar sense of anticipation. it had been a while since you’d checked the mailbox, and a part of you hoped for something—anything—that might offer a semblance of normalcy. stepping outside, you made your way to the mailbox, your heart quickening with each step.

to your surprise, the mailbox was indeed full. a letter jutted out conspicuously, and you retrieved it with a sense of eagerness. as you opened the envelope, a wave of relief washed over you. it was your paycheck for the month, finally arriving after a delay due to your recent departure. holding it in your hands, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. it was a tangible reminder that, despite everything, some things remained stable.

the financial strain you had been feeling was momentarily alleviated. you knew you couldn’t spend it recklessly, as you had struggled with in the past. joohyun had always been the one with the knack for smart spending, a skill you had admired and aspired to learn. but now, with this money in hand, a thought struck you—a way to spend it thoughtfully and meaningfully.

you hurried back inside, the letter clutched in your hand, and reached for your phone. your mind raced with the idea you had conceived, driven by the need to act quickly and decisively. you knew exactly what you wanted to do. without hesitation, you began to place an order, your fingers flying over the screen. this was not for you but for joohyun, a gesture of care and support that felt right in the moment.

as you completed the transaction, a sense of satisfaction settled over you. the order would be delivered promptly and securely, a small but significant way to show your support and gratitude for the years of friendship and understanding you had shared. you imagined joohyun’s reaction, the surprise and appreciation that would follow, and it made the effort worth it.

when joohyun woke up, the room was bathed in a soft morning light that filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. you were already in the living room, your movements quiet and careful as you prepared two cups of coffee. the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee filled the space, a comforting and familiar scent that seemed to promise a sense of normalcy amidst the turmoil. you had arranged the cups on the table, and as she emerged from the bedroom, her eyes still heavy with sleep, you handed her one with a warm smile. “good morning,” you said softly. “coffee?”

she accepted the cup with a murmured thank you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. she appeared distracted, her usual composure replaced by an off-kilter demeanor that seemed out of place. though she had slept in, there was more to her mood than mere tiredness. as she sat down on the couch, her gaze fell upon the lighter you had given her. it was perched on the counter, a small, simple object that now seemed to carry a heavier weight. she reached for it, her fingers absently flicking the flame on and off. the sight of the flame, so small and yet so symbolic, seemed to hold a peculiar significance for her—a reminder of what had been lost.

without thinking, you moved closer and gently blew out the flame. joohyun turned to you with a look of surprise, her eyes widening as she met your gaze. “what?” you asked, attempting to lighten the mood. “so glum this early?”

ahe sighed deeply, the sound a mix of exhaustion and introspection. “i’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t know anything. i have no idea who i am.” her words were laden with uncertainty, a contrast to her usually poised demeanor. you understood her struggle without needing any further explanation. how could she possibly find herself after enduring such profound loss, after seeing everything she had disappear in an instant?

“bae joohyun,” you whispered softly, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop it. “you’re bae joohyun.”

joohyun’s gaze met yours, and a small, sad smile crept across her face. “i have no idea who she is anymore,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with resignation.

you placed a reassuring hand over hers, the warmth of her skin surprising you. the gesture was as much for your comfort as for hers, a physical connection that bridged the gap between uncertainty and reassurance. you winced slightly at the warmth, but you forced a gentle smile as you spoke. “you have all the time in the world to figure that out,” you said. “there’s no rush.”

her eyes softened, and she nodded, seemingly comforted by your words. ahe hadn’t even realized that the lighter had slipped from her grasp, falling unnoticed to the floor. the small act of solace seemed to bring a fleeting sense of peace, and for a moment, the weight of her burden felt a little lighter.

you watched joohyun from the corner of your eye as the hours passed, the way she clung to familiar comforts like cigarettes and alcohol, the way her gaze seemed lost in the flicker of the lighter’s flame. the weight of her grief was evident in these small, self-destructive habits, a silent testament to the immense loss she had suffered. it pained you to see her slipping away, losing pieces of herself in the haze of her sorrow.

the sound of the doorbell broke through your thoughts, a sharp, promising chime that tugged you from your concern. you rushed to the door, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement. the order you had placed had arrived faster than you had hoped, and the prospect of surprising joohyun brought a renewed sense of purpose.

“who is it?” her voice called out from the hallway, tinged with curiosity. without missing a beat, you sprinted to her, gently but firmly guiding her back into the living room. “don’t come out, don’t you dare,” you whispered urgently, trying to keep your voice low and insistent. her startled expression softened into a chuckle, but she complied, retreating to the couch with a bemused shake of her head.

you returned to the door, signing for the package and then stepping outside to retrieve it. the box was enormous, much larger than anything you could comfortably manage on your own, but you were determined. the weight of it was a physical manifestation of your resolve, a symbol of your intent to ease her pain, even if just a little.

straining under the box’s weight, you navigated the stairs with careful steps, the bulk of the package pressing heavily against you. sweat trickled down your forehead, and you muttered to yourself, “she better like it,” as you heaved the box into your room.

once inside, you carefully unboxed the contents, revealing the piano in its elegant form. the sight of it, pristine and intact, filled you with a profound sense of relief. you had chosen this as a gift not just for its sentimental value but for the solace it could bring. the piano was more than just an instrument; it was a piece of joohyun’s past, a fragment of what had been lost, now returned to her.

wiping the sweat from your brow, you took a moment to admire the piano’s glossy surface, its intricate details catching the soft light of the room. this was not merely an object but a bridge to her past, a connection to the pieces of herself she had feared were gone forever. you carefully positioned the piano in a corner of your room, making sure it was perfectly placed. the act of setting it up was almost ceremonial, a way of honoring her grief and the memories that had been intertwined with the instrument.

as you finished, you stood back, allowing yourself a moment to appreciate the sight of the piano. you knew that the gift, while tangible, was a symbol of your unwavering support and love. it was a gesture to remind her that amidst all the loss and confusion, there was still something familiar, something worth holding onto. satisfied with your efforts, you made your way back downstairs, where joohyun was still seated on the couch. her eyes were drawn to you as you approached, and you could see a flicker of curiosity in them.

as you stood in the doorway, her eyes searching your exhausted form, she asked, “what is it?” her voice was tinged with concern and curiosity. you could see the confusion in her eyes, but you shook your head, a smile playing on your lips despite the fatigue that weighed on your shoulders.

“just close your eyes,” you instructed gently, your voice soft but insistent. you reached for her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours as you guided her up the stairs. her fingers intertwined with yours, and the sensation sent a shiver through you, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness that made your heart race. you could feel the subtle tremor in your knees, but you focused on the comforting reality of her hand in yours, the connection between you both.

the climb up the stairs seemed to stretch on forever, but with every step, you felt a growing sense of anticipation. as you reached your room, you eased her into the space, positioning her in front of the piano with a whispered, “you can open your eyes now.”

joohyun hesitated for a brief moment before she complied, her gaze slowly adjusting to the sight before her. her eyes widened as she took in the grand piano, its polished surface gleaming softly in the morning light. the instrument stood there like a beacon of lost memories, its presence a tangible connection to the past that had been so cruelly stripped away.

“you,” she began, her voice faltering as she struggled to find the right words. her shock was evident, her eyes moving over the piano’s every detail, as if trying to assure herself that it was real. she reached out, her fingers trailing delicately over the surface, the familiar sensation bringing a tremor of emotion. when she turned back to you, you asked softly, “do you like it?”

the question seemed to float in the air, and rather than answering with words, joohyun’s response came in the form of a gentle embrace. she stepped toward you and wrapped her arms around you, the gesture tender and heartfelt. it wasn’t an eager or frantic hug but one of deep, composed gratitude. you were momentarily taken aback, the warmth of her embrace flooding over you, and you held her close, savoring the closeness you had missed so dearly.

“thank you,” she whispered against your shoulder, her voice catching slightly. “i can’t believe you did this.” you pulled back slightly, offering her a reassuring smile. “you should thank me by playing it,” you said playfully, “it’s only fair.”

joohyun chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with a mix of gratitude and joy. she nodded, her smile growing as she moved to sit in front of the piano. you watched with bated breath as she positioned herself on the bench, her fingers poised above the keys.

with a deep breath, she began to play. the initial notes were hesitant, but soon they flowed smoothly, her fingers dancing gracefully across the keys. the music filled the room, a rich, melodic tapestry that wove together the threads of her past with the present moment. each note seemed to resonate with a part of her soul, a reflection of both her joy and her sorrow.

you stood behind her, mesmerized by the way her hands moved with such fluidity and skill. the sound of the piano was both soothing and invigorating, and you felt a surge of happiness as you watched her lose herself in the music. the composition was beautiful, a perfect blend of melancholic and hopeful tones that seemed to echo the complexities of her emotions. feeling a surge of affection, you slipped your arms around her neck, pulling her close as you swayed gently to the rhythm of the music. the contact between you both felt natural, comforting. she didn’t seem to mind your touch; in fact, she leaned into it, her posture relaxed and content.

the piano’s melody enveloped you both, a shared moment of intimacy and solace. you reveled in the feeling of being so close to her, of supporting her through this small, but significant act of reclaiming her passion. as she continued to play, her focus unwavering, you couldn’t help but feel the profound sense of fulfillment you had been longing for. in the midst of the music, you held her gently, allowing the notes to carry you both into a space where the past and present intertwined seamlessly.

as the final notes of the piano lingered in the air, fading into the quiet of the room, your arms remained wrapped gently around joohyun's neck. the silence that followed felt sacred, a soft cocoon of warmth and intimacy that neither of you wished to break. joohyun let out a quiet, almost breathless “thank you,” her voice carrying the weight of all the emotions she hadn’t expressed in words.

you smiled, your breath warm against her ear as you whispered back, “i haven’t heard you play in a while.” the truth of that statement hung between you both. six years, or perhaps even longer, had passed without the sound of her music. it was something she had always kept private, a part of herself she rarely shared with others. even her own mother had never heard her play the way she had for you. it had always been your shared secret, a testament to the closeness you once had—and maybe still did.

joohyun nodded in acknowledgment, her body easing into your touch as if seeking comfort in the familiarity of your embrace. “it’s been a while,” she murmured, her voice tinged with a quiet resignation.

you leaned in closer, turning slightly to meet her gaze. a teasing glint sparked in your eyes as you quipped, “must be why you’ve gotten rusty.” the playful accusation was met with a roll of her eyes, a gesture that felt like a return to your younger days when teasing banter was a regular occurrence between you.

she stood up then, gracefully extracting herself from your hold, though her expression remained soft, her smile lingering just at the corners of her lips. you clasped your hands together, a sudden idea igniting in your mind, one that felt so natural and right in that moment. “i have an idea,” you announced, your tone a mix of excitement and nostalgia. she raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “what’s the idea?”

“let’s go to the sea,” you suggested, your eyes bright with anticipation. the thought of the ocean, with its vastness and endless horizon, filled you with a sense of longing. it had been too long since you both had felt the salty breeze on your skin, heard the rhythmic crashing of the waves, or simply sat in the sand, watching the world go by. a smile tugged at her lips, one that she tried to suppress but failed. “we haven’t gone since we were kids,” she mused, more to herself than to you. there was something wistful in her tone, as if she too had been longing for the sea without realizing it.

you nodded eagerly, your enthusiasm infectious. “so, are you up for it?” joohyun met your gaze, her eyes searching yours for a moment before she nodded. “yeah,” she said softly, her smile widening as she agreed. “let’s go.”

the drive to the sea was filled with the kind of simple joy that felt as endless as the road stretched out before you. the windows were rolled down, letting the salty breeze whip through the car, tugging at your hair and filling the air with the scent of freedom. the radio hummed softly, playing songs that seemed to match the rhythm of your heart, every note underscoring the thrill of the moment. as joohyun drove, she glanced over at you, her eyes catching on the way the wind tousled your hair, how it mingled with the scent of salt and summer, how your face lit up with a grin that she had seen countless times before but never really noticed until now.

it was a startling realization for her. everything about you was familiar—your laughter, the way you leaned out the window, letting the wind carry your worries away, the light in your eyes as you lost yourself in the joy of the moment. it was all you, undeniably you, yet for the first time, joohyun felt something shift inside her. a strange, unnameable feeling that no melody could capture, no words could articulate. it was something she couldn’t quite explain, and it made her heart skip in a way that was both unsettling and wonderful. she turned her gaze back to the road, trying to focus on the drive, but that feeling lingered, refusing to be ignored.

when you finally reached the sea, joohyun barely had time to park the car before you bolted out, a cheer escaping your lips as you sprinted toward the sand. she found herself smiling, a genuine, soft smile that she hadn’t felt in a long time. you were a vision, spinning in the sand like a child, the wind playing with your hair, your white dress flowing around you like something out of a dream. the sight of you, so free, so full of life, made something tighten in her chest. you had always been you, the same you she had known for years—so why did it feel like she was seeing you for the first time?

“come on now,” she called out, her voice tinged with amusement. “you’re gonna fall.” but her words barely registered as you continued to move with the wind, your laughter mingling with the sound of the waves, the sense of loss that had been hanging over you both replaced, even if only for a moment, by a burning nostalgia.

she walked over to your side, her steps slow, almost hesitant. when you turned to face her, your eyes were bright with excitement, and it was contagious. joohyun couldn’t help but smile as she took in the sight of you. you looked so happy, and the way her heart raced in response caught her off guard. “just like when we were kids, right?” she asked, her voice soft, almost wistful.

you paused, your expression thoughtful as you considered her words. “not quite,” you said finally, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

before she could ask what you meant, you crouched down, gathering a handful of seawater in your hands before standing up and flinging it at her with a playful laugh. the cold water splashed against her, and she flinched, a look of shock crossing her face as you grinned wider. “now it is,” you declared, your laughter ringing out like music.

joohyun wiped the water from her eyes, an incredulous smile tugging at her lips. “i might kill you now,” she muttered, but there was no real threat in her voice.

you didn’t wait to find out. with a yelp, you turned and started running, your feet kicking up sand as you made a break for it. to your surprise, joohyun took off after you, her usual cool demeanor lost to the sea breeze. it was a side of her you hadn’t seen in years, and it filled you with a giddy sense of joy. but she was faster than you anticipated, and before you knew it, she caught up to you, tackling you into the sand with a laugh.

she hovered over you, her breath coming in soft pants, her eyes locked on yours. the smile on your face never faltered, even as you brushed a few wet strands of hair away from her forehead. “you’re all wet,” you teased, your voice light, playful, but there was an undercurrent of something more—something neither of you dared to name.

she seemed stunned for a moment, her eyes widening slightly as she felt the warmth of your touch. she winced, but not out of discomfort—rather, it was a reaction to the unfamiliar craving your touch stirred in her. you looked so helpless, so pretty, so oblivious to the effect you had on her, and it was all she could think about.

“shut up,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, but she didn’t look away. she couldn’t. the feel of the sand between her toes, the salty water clinging to her skin—it all faded into the background. all that mattered was you, lying there beneath her, your eyes wide and trusting, your smile soft and sweet. you frowned slightly, a hint of worry creeping into your expression. “you’re not mad at me, are you?”

joohyun shook her head, her eyes never leaving yours. “how could i ever be mad at you?” she asked, her voice so tender it made your heart flutter.

it wasn’t one-sided. joohyun felt it too, that fluttering, fragile feeling that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. it was exactly why she forced herself to sit up, to put some distance between you, even if it was just a few inches. but you weren’t ready to let go of the moment. you sat up beside her, heaving a sigh of contentment as you leaned against her shoulder, your head resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world.

she stiffened slightly at the contact, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes once again found their way to your frame. you didn’t seem to notice, lost in your own memories as you smiled to yourself. “we came here when we were sixteen,” you recalled, your voice soft with nostalgia.

her lips curved into a small smile as the memory surfaced. “when you tried to drown my ex,” she finished, chuckling softly. “you’re a lunatic.”

you pouted, looking up to meet her gaze, your expression full of mock indignation. “he totally deserved it for cheating on you,” you insisted, sighing dramatically before adding, “you always pick losers.”

joohyun thought about it for a moment, her eyes never leaving yours as she softly agreed, “i do, don’t i?”

but as she said the words, the realization hit her like a wave. she wasn’t thinking about anyone else—not the ex who had wronged her, not the pain that had followed. all she could think about was you. you, who had always been there, who had always cared, who was still here, sitting beside her with that same smile she had known for years. and in that moment, nothing else mattered. not the sea, not the sand, not even the past. all she could look at was you.

the drive back home from the sea was quieter, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was a soothing, reflective kind of quiet, the kind that comes after you’ve spent time reconnecting with something you thought you’d lost. the day had passed in a blur of wind and waves, leaving both of you feeling a bit lighter, the weight of everything that had happened recently lifted, if only temporarily.

by the time you arrived home, night had fully fallen, the sky a deep indigo speckled with stars. you groaned as you stepped out of the car, stretching your arms above your head, every muscle in your body aching with exhaustion. “i’m so tired,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck as you trudged toward the house. “go sleep, don’t you have free will?” joohyun countered, her tone teasing, though her own steps were slower, more hesitant.

you turned to stick your tongue out at her, a playful gesture that had her smiling despite the turmoil in her mind. without waiting for her to respond, you ran to the bathroom, eager to wash off the salt and sand that clung to your skin.

joohyun chuckled softly to herself as she watched you go, but the smile faded as she made her way to your room. the door creaked as she pushed it open, the familiar space offering no comfort tonight. her mind was a tangled mess of thoughts, each one more confusing than the last. she didn’t know what to feel or if she was even allowed to feel what she was feeling. it was so different, so foreign, yet so intense that she couldn’t simply ignore it.

her eyes fell on the lighter you had given her, resting on the desk. she walked over to it, her fingers brushing against the cool metal before she picked it up. the weight of it felt heavier than it should have. slowly, she flicked it on, watching as the small flame danced before her eyes. it moved with a life of its own, flickering and swaying in the dim light of the room. she found herself staring at it, mesmerized and aggravated by how something so small could feel so mocking, so reminiscent of the very thing she’d been running from.

she didn’t notice how long she had been standing there, lost in thought, until the flame went out. blinking in surprise, she turned to find you standing in the doorway, a soft smile on your face. “you’re gonna burn yourself,” you chided gently, stepping into the room.

joohyun smiled back, setting the lighter down with a sense of relief she couldn’t quite explain. “guess i got a little lost in thought,” she murmured, almost to herself.

you settled into bed, the air between you thick with unspoken words. the silence that followed was heavy, not with discomfort, but with something more—a tension that neither of you fully understood, yet neither could deny. joohyun found herself staring at your back, as if waiting for something, anything, to happen. when you finally turned to face her, your eyes met, and neither of you could look away.

she broke the silence first, her voice barely more than a whisper. “how did you know?” she paused, her gaze searching yours before she finished, “how did you know you liked girls?”

the question caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat as the weight of her words settled over you. you felt your chest tighten, your breath quickening as you processed what she was asking. “i don’t know,” you whispered back, your voice tinged with uncertainty. “i think i always knew.” joohyun let your words sink in, turning them over in her mind as she tried to make sense of her own thoughts. she had been thinking deeply about herself, about the feelings she had been trying to ignore. “why do you ask?” you countered gently, your voice drawing her back to the present.

for a long moment, she remained silent, her eyes never leaving yours. she was trying to gather her thoughts, to find the right words, but when she finally spoke, it wasn’t what you had expected to hear. it wasn’t what she had expected to say. “can i kiss you?” the words tumbled out, her voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough to break the silence.

your heart pounded in your chest, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. her question hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you didn’t know how to react. your breathing became shallow, your skin tingling with anticipation as you processed what she was asking. silently, you nodded, giving her the permission she didn’t even know she needed.

she hesitated, her own breath hitching as she moved closer, the space between you disappearing with each inch. when she was so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off her, your eyes fluttered shut, and then her lips were on yours. the kiss was soft, tentative at first, but as soon as your lips touched, it felt familiar, as though you’d done this a thousand times before in some other life. it felt right, in a way that nothing else had for a long time.

you kissed her back, your lips moving against hers in an almost perfect embrace. there was a tenderness to it, a vulnerability that neither of you had shown before, and it made the moment all the more profound. her hand trembled as it came up to cup your cheek, her touch light but filled with emotion. you latched onto her wrist, your fingers gently caressing the soft skin there as you deepened the kiss, letting yourself get lost in the sensation.

when she finally pulled back, her breath was shaky, her heart racing in her chest. your eyes fluttered open, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. it was something you had been longing for, dreaming of, and now that it was happening, you didn’t know how to feel. “was that okay?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with uncertainty.

she nodded, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “i liked it,” she admitted, her voice soft, but the sincerity in her words was undeniable.

a laugh bubbled up from within you, light and airy, as you watched her, your heart swelling with a mix of relief and happiness. joohyun frowned, her smile faltering slightly as she asked, “what? what’s so funny?” your laughter only grew, your shoulders shaking as you tried to calm yourself down. “am i a bad kisser?” she demanded, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice, though there was no real anger behind it.

you shook your head, your laughter dying down to a soft chuckle. “the worst,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. ahe scoffed, rolling her eyes despite the smile that tugged at her lips. she turned her back to you, feigning annoyance, but there was a lightness to her movements that hadn’t been there before. you let your head hit the pillow, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to you. but as you lay there, something within you urged you to move closer.

tentatively, you scooted closer to her, your heart pounding in your chest as you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind. you could feel her stiffen at the unexpected touch, her breath hitching in her throat. for a moment, you wondered if you had made a mistake, if maybe this was too much, too soon. but then she relaxed, her body melting into yours as she scooted back, letting you hold her.

in the quiet of the night, with the world outside your room forgotten, you held each other, letting the warmth of the moment seep into your bones. it felt natural, as if this was where you both were meant to be all along. the worries, the confusion, the uncertainty—they all faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of her breathing and the comforting weight of her body against yours. and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

when joohyun woke up, the world felt softer, quieter, as if the night had wrapped her in a cocoon of peace she hadn’t experienced in a long time. the weight of your arm still draped over her waist was a comforting reminder that she wasn’t alone, and it made her heart ache with a strange mixture of warmth and longing. it had been the best sleep she’d had in what felt like forever, and she almost regretted that it had to end.

she shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, but the movement was enough to stir you from sleep. your eyes fluttered open, heavy with the remnants of dreams, and you murmured a soft, “good morning,” as you pulled away from her. the space you left behind was cold, leaving her with an emptiness she hadn’t anticipated. “morning,” she replied, her voice still thick with sleep, as she rolled over to face the nightstand.

she reached for her phone, her fingers brushing against the cool surface before she turned it on. the light from the screen illuminated her face in the dim room, casting a soft glow over her features. you watched her quietly, noticing the way her eyes scanned the screen with a sort of resigned anticipation, as if she was bracing herself for something.

her gaze settled on a message, and her expression shifted, something unreadable crossing her features. “my dad texted me,” she announced quietly, the words heavy despite their simplicity. you leaned over, curiosity piqued, your heart fluttering with a sense of unease. “what did he say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to gauge her reaction.

she opened the message, her eyes narrowing slightly as she read the words. “he wants me to come to church with him today,” she said, her tone neutral, as if she was still processing the request herself.

the gravity of it all hit you, the weight of what that meant hanging between you like a shadow. you knew how much she had been struggling, how deeply her mother’s passing had affected her, and the thought of her stepping back into a place that held so many memories, both good and bad, made your heart ache for her. but joohyun seemed almost detached, as if the request didn’t faze her as much as you thought it would.

“why?” you asked quietly, the word slipping out before you could stop yourself.

ahe didn’t answer right away, her eyes still fixed on the screen as she read through the rest of the messages. “he thinks it’ll help with my mom’s passing,” she finally said, her voice soft, almost distant.

the ache in your heart intensified, a deep, gnawing pain that you tried to push down. how could you discourage her from that? how could you tell her not to do something that might help her heal, even if it meant walking into a place that held so much significance? you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile as you murmured, “maybe it’ll help.”

joohyun seemed to consider this, her eyes searching yours as if she was looking for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just understanding. after a moment, she turned her gaze back to the phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. “would you come with me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she was afraid of your answer.

your breath caught in your throat. you hadn’t been to a church since you were a child, the memories of it fuzzy and distant, like a half-forgotten dream. the idea of going back, of stepping into a place that felt so foreign now, made your heart race with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. but when you looked at her, at the way she seemed so lost, so vulnerable, you knew you couldn’t say no. you saw the hurt in her eyes, the pain that she was still carrying with her, and you couldn’t bear the thought of her facing that alone.

so, you nodded, the decision made before you even realized it. “of course,” you said, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded in your chest. “i’ll go with you.” the relief in her eyes was immediate, her shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been lifted off of her. she gave you a small, grateful smile, and for a moment, the tension between you eased, replaced by something warmer, something more intimate. “thank you,” she murmured, her hand reaching out to take yours, squeezing it gently.

you found yourself sitting in the back seat of joohyun's car, feeling the tension in the air grow as you approached the church. it was a place you hadn’t stepped foot in for years, and the mere thought of entering it now made your stomach churn with unease. the idea of being surrounded by people who might judge you for who you were, for who you loved, left you feeling vulnerable in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

joohyun’s father greeted you both at the entrance, his face lighting up when he saw you. “there’s my other daughter,” he said warmly, pulling you into a tight hug. you hugged him back, the familiarity of his embrace momentarily easing the tension in your chest. when you pulled away, you offered your condolences, your voice soft and sincere.

“i’m so sorry for your loss,” you murmured, your eyes meeting his. the grief in his gaze was palpable, but he smiled at you, appreciating the sentiment. “thank you,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “it means a lot that you’re here.”

as you walked into the church, you felt a wave of discomfort wash over you. the space was grand, with high ceilings and stained-glass windows that bathed the room in a kaleidoscope of colors. the air was thick with incense, the smell overpowering as it filled your lungs. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t belong here, that you were an outsider in a place where everyone else seemed to fit perfectly. the church was foreign to you, and every step you took felt like it was magnified, echoing in the silence of the sacred space.

you and joohyun found a seat near the middle, close enough to see the priest clearly but far enough to feel slightly removed from the intensity of it all. you sat down, trying to steady your breathing, and glanced over at joohyun. she looked serene, calm even, as if this was just another day, but you could see the underlying tension in the way her hands fidgeted with the edge of her dress. you offered her a warm smile, hoping to provide some comfort, and she returned it, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

the service began, the priest’s voice ringing out clearly in the large space, amplified by the acoustics of the room. he spoke of loss, of the pain that comes with it, and the need to find solace in faith. his words were gentle at first, meant to soothe, to offer comfort to those who were grieving. “we are all familiar with the ache of loss,” he said, his voice carrying through the church. “but it is in our darkest moments that we must turn to god, to seek his guidance, for he is the one who will lead us to the light.”

as he spoke, you felt your heart ache for joohyun, knowing how deeply she had been hurt, how much she was struggling to find that light. without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand on top of hers, squeezing gently in a silent gesture of support. she looked down at your hand, her fingers slowly wrapping around yours, and she squeezed back, intertwining your fingers with hers. the simple touch grounded you both, a small anchor in the sea of uncertainty that surrounded you.

the priest continued, his words growing more intense, more insistent as he spoke of the need to obey god’s will, to follow his path no matter how difficult it might seem. “the trials we face are but a small price to pay for the paradise that awaits us,” he said, his voice firm. “to obey god, to live according to his commandments, is to guarantee a place in his kingdom, where there is no more pain, no more suffering.”

you felt joohyun stiffen beside you, her grip on your hand loosening until she let go entirely. the sudden absence of her touch left you feeling cold, a void opening up between you that you hadn’t anticipated. you pulled your hand back, your heart breaking as you watched her focus intently on the priest, her eyes fixed on him as if she was hanging on to every word. she seemed mesmerized, lost in the promise of salvation, of finding peace through obedience.

for a moment, you felt a pang of resentment, a bitter taste in your mouth as you listened to the priest’s words. how could someone be expected to pay such a price? to deny themselves, to live in fear of who they were, just to be accepted into paradise? the thought made your chest tighten, a silent protest forming in your mind. god loves you, you thought bitterly, but not enough to save you.

the rest of the service passed in a blur, the priest’s words fading into the background as you struggled with your own thoughts. joohyun remained quiet, her gaze never leaving the front of the church, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her mind. was she finding comfort in the priest’s words? did she believe them? and if she did, where did that leave you?

when the service finally ended, the congregation began to disperse, the sound of shuffling feet and hushed whispers filling the air. you stood up slowly, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile as joohyun’s father approached. “you did well,” he said, his voice gentle as he placed a hand on her shoulder. she nodded, a small, tight-lipped smile on her face, but she didn’t say anything. he turned to you, his expression warm as he added, “thank you for being here. it means more than you know.”

you nodded, offering him a small smile in return, but the words felt hollow. all you could think about was the space that had opened up between you and joohyun, the distance that seemed to have grown in such a short amount of time.

as you left the church, the air outside felt cooler, fresher, but it did little to ease the heaviness in your chest. joohyun walked beside you, her steps slow and measured, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at her, searching for any sign of what she was feeling. but her face was unreadable, her thoughts hidden behind a mask of composure. you reached the car in silence, the only sound the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet. she unlocked the doors, and you both got in, the silence between you thick and oppressive. as she started the engine, you glanced at her, wanting to say something, anything, to bridge the gap that had formed between you. but the words wouldn’t come.

the days following the church service felt like you were slowly losing something you didn’t quite know how to name. joohyun’s behavior shifted, subtle at first, but the changes grew more pronounced with each passing day. it was as if the moment in church had planted something in her mind, something that took root and began to grow, twisting its way through her thoughts, altering them, changing her in ways that left you feeling adrift.

it started with her eyes. the way they no longer found yours, no longer lingered on your face with that quiet, thoughtful intensity. before, there had been moments when you’d catch her looking at you, her gaze softening as if she was seeing something she didn’t fully understand but wanted to. now, her eyes skimmed over you, barely registering your presence, as if the act of looking at you was too much, too difficult. it was like she was afraid of what she might find if she let herself look too closely, so she kept her distance, both physically and emotionally.

her touch, too, became something of the past. where once she had hesitated only to give in, to seek the comfort of your presence, to let her hand linger on your arm or her fingers brush against yours, now there was a deliberate space between you. it was as if nothing had ever happened, as if the kiss you shared was a figment of your imagination, a fleeting dream that faded in the harsh light of day. she no longer reached for you, no longer found excuses to be close, and the absence of her touch felt like a loss you couldn’t quite put into words. it was a quiet withdrawal, a silent pulling away, and it left you feeling like you were standing on the edge of something you couldn’t see but feared falling into.

the silence between you was different now, heavier, filled with unspoken words and unacknowledged fears. and when she did speak, it was often to break that silence with facts you hadn’t asked for, facts about religion and god that seemed to come out of nowhere, yet you knew exactly where they were coming from. “did you know,” she would begin, her voice too casual, too light, “that the bible says god will forgive any sin if you truly repent?” or, “did you know that people used to believe you could cure sickness by praying hard enough?”

you didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to tell her that you didn’t want to hear these things, that they only served to widen the gap between you. so, you stayed quiet, nodding when she spoke, letting her words wash over you even as they made your heart ache. it felt like she was trying to convince herself of something, trying to find solace in these facts, trying to believe that there was a way to fix whatever it was she thought was broken.

then, she started praying. it was a quiet, almost secretive thing at first, something she did in the privacy of her room or in the stillness of the morning when she thought you were asleep. but you heard her, the soft murmur of her voice as she whispered her prayers, the way her words were tinged with desperation, with a longing you couldn’t quite place. and then one day, you heard her say it aloud, her voice trembling with emotion. “i want to be cured,” she said, her words hanging in the air like a plea.

you didn’t know what she was referring to, didn’t know if she meant the grief over her mother or something else entirely. but the way she said it, the way her voice cracked on the word “cured,” sent a chill through you. you wanted to reach out to her, to ask her what she meant, to offer her comfort, but something in the way she spoke, in the way she seemed so lost in her thoughts, stopped you. all you could do was listen in silence, watching her as she prayed for something you couldn’t give her, something that felt like it was slipping further out of reach with every passing day.

the lighter became her constant companion, a small, seemingly insignificant object that she kept with her at all times. you would see her sitting at the piano, her fingers absentmindedly flicking the lighter on and off, the small flame dancing in front of her as if mocking her, taunting her with its ephemeral nature. you noticed how her eyes would fixate on the flame, how she seemed almost hypnotized by it, as if it held some kind of answer she was searching for. and then one day, you saw her burn herself.

it happened so quickly, so quietly, that at first you didn’t even realize what had happened. ahe was sitting at the piano, the lighter in her hand as usual, when the flame touched her skin. there was a small hiss, the smell of burnt flesh, and you gasped, your heart leaping into your throat. but she didn’t react. she didn’t even flinch. she just sat there, staring at the small burn on her hand as if it were nothing, as if it didn’t hurt. you didn’t know if it had been an accident or if she had done it on purpose, but the way she remained so calm, so detached, made your blood run cold.

when she played the piano now, there was no emotion in it, no feeling, no passion. the notes were correct, the technique flawless, but there was something missing, something vital that had once been there but was now lost. the music felt empty, hollow, like a shell of what it used to be. it was as if she was going through the motions, playing the notes because she knew them, not because she felt them. and every time you heard her play, it broke your heart a little more, because you knew how much the piano had once meant to her, how much joy it had brought her. but now, it was just another thing that had been tainted, another thing that had been lost in the wake of whatever it was she was going through.

you wanted to fix it, to fix her, to bring her back to the person she used to be, the person who had smiled at you, who had kissed you, who had held your hand. but the more you tried, the more it felt like she was slipping away, like she was fading into something you couldn’t reach, something you couldn’t save. and you didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to hold on to something that was already broken. because when something breaks, you’re supposed to let go of it, to move on, to find something new. but you couldn’t. all you wanted to do was fix it, to fix her, to make everything right again. but the more you tried, the more it hurt, and the less it showed.

the days had grown longer, more drawn out, and more painful, as joohyun drifted further away from the person you once knew. it was late in the afternoon when she finally mentioned the bonfire party. her voice was flat, almost disinterested, as if she was announcing something mundane, like a change in the weather. “there’s a bonfire party by the sea tonight,” she said, not even looking up from the lighter she had been fiddling with.

you glanced up from where you were sitting, a pang of worry twisting in your chest. the idea of a bonfire, of flames and alcohol mixed with the volatile state she had been in lately, sent alarms ringing through your mind. “maybe it isn’t a good idea to go,” you suggested carefully, trying to keep your voice steady. “the fire, it might provoke you even more.”

but joohyun paid no mind to your concern. ahe shrugged, a faint, almost bitter smile playing on her lips as she slipped the lighter into her pocket. “i’m fine,” she insisted, her voice cold, distant. “we’re going. it’ll be fun.” her insistence made your heart sink. she had been drawn to all the wrong things lately, claiming that she was on the right path, that she knew what she was doing, but you both knew that wasn’t true. there was a coldness in her now, a recklessness that hadn’t been there before. she clung to the lighter like a lifeline, a small object that had once meant something, had once been a reminder of who she was. but now, it was just another piece of who she had lost.

you knew it was useless to argue, so you sighed and nodded, deciding to go with her. maybe if you were there, you could keep her safe, keep her from doing something she would regret. the night air was cool as you walked down to the beach together, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the silence between you. the sky was dark, the stars barely visible through the haze of clouds, and the smell of salt and seaweed filled the air.

the bonfire was already roaring by the time you arrived, a towering inferno of orange and red that cast long shadows across the sand. people were gathered around it, laughing, talking, drinking, the flickering light playing across their faces. you felt out of place, like you didn’t belong here, like the fire was too bright, too intense. but joohyun walked forward without hesitation, drawn to the flames like a moth, her eyes fixed on the fire as if it held some kind of answer she was searching for.

you followed her, your heart heavy with worry as you watched her grab a drink and down it quickly, almost desperately. she was drinking more than you had thought she would, more than you had ever seen her drink before. the sight of it made you uneasy, and you reached out to gently touch her arm. “joo,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. “maybe you shouldn’t drink so much.”

ahe brushed off your concern with a careless wave of her hand, not even bothering to look at you. “i’m fine,” she repeated, her words slurred slightly, the alcohol already beginning to take hold. she took another drink, and you bit your lip, watching her closely, trying to keep an eye on her, to make sure she didn’t go too far.

as the night wore on, you could tell she had had too much. you could see it in the way her movements became sluggish, her steps unsteady, and the way her arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in close. you stiffened at the touch, your heart skipping a beat as you felt her warmth against you. you could smell the alcohol on her breath, sharp and pungent, and you knew that this wasn’t her, not really. it was the alcohol, the numbness she was trying to find at the bottom of the bottle.

but maybe, maybe it wasn’t. maybe this was what she wanted, maybe this was what she felt deep down, beneath the layers of confusion and pain. you wanted so desperately to believe it, to believe that this was real, that it wasn’t just the alcohol talking. so, you eased into her touch, letting your head rest against her shoulder, letting yourself pretend, just for a moment, that everything was okay, that she was still yours, that she still loved you, if she ever had.

you watched the fire together, the flames dancing and crackling, the heat of it warming your skin. but as you glanced up at her, you saw the way her eyes stared into the fire, hazy with alcohol, empty and distant. it was like she was somewhere else, lost in her own thoughts, her own pain. then, without warning, she pulled out the lighter again, flicking it on and off, the small flame dancing in front of her, taunting her, mocking her.

you had had enough. you leaned down and blew out the flame, your voice sharp and edged with frustration as you whispered, “one more time, joohyun. one more time, and you’ll die.”

she scoffed, but there was no humor in it, only a bitter resignation. she tucked the lighter away, her movements slow and deliberate, but she kept her arm around you, and you kept your head on her shoulder. you stayed like that as the party slowly began to die down, people leaving in pairs or small groups, until it was just the two of you left, the fire burning low, the night growing colder.

it was what you needed, the solitude, the quiet, just the two of you. but it wasn’t what you wanted. not like this. not with her so far away, so lost in her own darkness. you wanted to reach out to her, to pull her back, to tell her that it was okay, that you were still here, that you loved her. but you didn’t know how. you didn’t know if it would even matter. and then, she turned to face you, her eyes locking onto yours. your heart broke for her in that moment, seeing the pain, the confusion, the emptiness in her gaze. but you said nothing, the words stuck in your throat, your voice lost to the night.

she leaned in, her breath warm against your skin, and before you could react, before you could stop her, she kissed you. it was sudden, unexpected, and it sent a shock of electricity through your body. for a moment, you froze, unsure of what to do, unsure of what this meant. but then you gave in, your eyes fluttering shut as you kissed her back, your heart pounding in your chest.

her lips were soft, familiar, but there was a desperation to the kiss, a hunger that hadn’t been there before. it was as if she was trying to find something in you, something to hold on to, something to save her from herself. you kissed her back, your hand reaching up to cup her cheek, to pull her closer, to keep her from slipping away. “don’t do that,” you murmured against her lips, your voice cold, laced with fear and anger and something you couldn’t quite name. “god will see.”

she didn’t respond, didn’t pull away. Instead, she kissed you harder, her fingers tangling in your hair, her body pressing against yours. it was desperate, it was reckless, but it was all you had, all she had. if god was watching, if he was there, why did she feel so lonely? why did you?

the fire crackled beside you, the flames dying down, the night growing colder. but in that moment, nothing else mattered. all that mattered was her, and the way her lips felt against yours, the way she held on to you as if you were the only thing keeping her from falling apart. and maybe you were. but even as you kissed her, even as you let yourself get lost in her, you knew that it wasn’t enough. it would never be enough.

the drive back home was suffocating in its silence, the kind that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts, unraveling everything you had tried to keep together. the hum of the engine filled the void between you, and the rhythmic blink of the passing streetlights played across joohyun’s face, casting fleeting shadows that deepened the hollowness in her eyes. she stared out the window, her face expressionless, as if the night had drained her of everything she once was.

you kept your eyes on the road, your hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles turned white. the kiss still lingered on your lips, a bitter reminder of what had happened by the fire. you wanted to speak, to say something that would break the tension, the uncertainty, the fear that had settled between you like an unwelcome guest. but the words wouldn’t come. you were afraid they might shatter whatever fragile connection you had left.

the drive felt endless, each minute stretching into eternity, but eventually, you pulled into the driveway, the car coming to a slow stop. joohyun made no move to get out, and for a moment, neither did you. you sat there in the darkness, the only sound the ticking of the cooling engine, the silence growing heavier with each passing second. finally, you sighed and unbuckled your seatbelt, opening the door and stepping out into the cool night air.

she followed you wordlessly, her movements slow, deliberate, as if she was moving through a dream. you unlocked the door and stepped inside, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved. you barely had time to close the door behind you before she was on you, her hands fisting in the fabric of your jacket as she pulled you in for a kiss.

it was different from the one by the fire, more intense, more desperate. she kissed you with a fervor that bordered on madness, her lips bruising against yours as if she was trying to drown out the world, to forget everything that had happened, everything that she was. your mind screamed at you to stop, to push her away, to tell her that this wasn’t right, that she wasn’t in her right mind. but your heart, traitorous and weak, told you to give in, to let her have this moment, to give her whatever she needed because you loved her.

you hesitated for a moment, your mind and heart warring within you, but when she bit down on your lower lip, a small, needy sound escaping her throat, you found yourself giving in. you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss as if you could somehow fuse your souls together, as if that could make everything better, could make everything make sense.

she broke the kiss only long enough to grab your hand, pulling you toward the stairs with a determination that left you breathless. you followed her, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind reeling from the intensity of it all. each step felt heavier than the last, your resolve crumbling with every passing second as you fought against the voice in your head that told you to stop, to say something, to pull away.

but you couldn’t. not when she was looking at you like that, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name, something raw and desperate. she led you upstairs, her hand trembling slightly as she pushed open the door to her room. the moment you stepped inside, she was on you again, her lips crashing against yours as if she was afraid that if she let go, you would disappear.

your back hit the wall, and she pressed her body against yours, her hands moving to tangle in your hair, pulling you down for another searing kiss. you wanted to fight it, to tell her that this wasn’t right, that this wasn’t the way to fix what was broken between you. but you couldn’t find the strength to push her away. not when you loved her so much, not when you had been longing for her touch, her kiss, for so long.

she kissed you like she was trying to consume you, like she was trying to erase everything that had happened, everything that had been said, and you let her. you let her take what she needed, let her use you to fill the void inside her, because you knew that this was all you could give her now. you knew that once the night was over, once the passion had faded, she would go back to being distant, cold, unreachable. but for now, in this moment, she was yours, and you were hers, and that was enough.

you kissed her back with just as much intensity, your hands moving to hold her close, to keep her from slipping away from you. you poured all your love, all your pain, all your desperation into that kiss, trying to convey everything you couldn’t put into words. she responded in kind, her body trembling against yours as she kissed you with a fierceness that left you breathless.

you stumbled back toward the bed, your lips never leaving hers as you fell onto the mattress together. she moved over you, her hands roaming over your body with a desperation that sent shivers down your spine. you arched into her touch, your own hands tracing the contours of her body, memorizing every curve, every dip, every part of her that you loved so much.

when she kissed you again, it was slower, softer, as if she was savoring the moment, as if she was trying to make it last. you kissed her back, your hands cupping her face as you looked into her eyes, searching for something, anything, that would tell you that this was real, that this meant something. but her eyes were guarded, her expression unreadable, and it made your heart ache.

she pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breath ragged as she whispered your name, her voice filled with a longing that broke you all over again. you wanted to say something, to tell her that you loved her, that you would always love her, no matter what. but the words stuck in your throat, and all you could do was kiss her again, hoping that she understood, hoping that she knew.

you reached down to unbutton her shirt, her skin hot and smooth beneath your fingertips. she helped you, her eyes never leaving yours as she peeled the fabric away, revealing the soft mounds of her breasts. you took one in your hand, feeling the weight of it, the warmth of her, the way her nipple hardened under your touch. she gasped, her eyes fluttering closed, and you took that as your cue to lean down and kiss her, to tease her nipple with your tongue until she was arching into you, her hands tightening in your hair.

you felt her hand slide down between your legs, her fingers tracing the line of your panties, and you knew she could feel how wet you were, how much you wanted her. you moaned against her neck, your hips bucking involuntarily. she smiled, a knowing smile that made your stomach flip. you pushed the negative thoughts aside, focusing instead on the way her hand felt against you, the way she was making you feel. you let your own hand slide down to her pants, undoing the button and zipper with trembling fingers. you slipped your hand inside, feeling the heat of her, the dampness of her underwear. she was just as eager as you, and that was all that mattered right now.

you pulled her closer, grinding against her, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. she groaned, her hand moving to match your rhythm, her other hand sliding up to cup your breast. you could feel yourself getting closer, your body tightening, your breath hitching. you didn’t know how much longer you could take this, how much longer you could keep pretending that everything was okay, that this was what you both wanted.

you reached down to pull her pants off, your own following shortly after. you lay there, in the darkness, skin to skin, heart to heart, your bodies intertwined as you kissed and touched each other with a passion that was almost painful. it was as if you were trying to hold on to something that was slipping through your fingers, something that was never truly yours to begin with.

you felt her hand move between your legs, her fingers delving into your wetness, exploring you with a hunger that left you breathless. you gasped, your hips rising to meet her touch as she began to rub slow circles around your clit. you reached down to do the same to her, feeling the slickness of her arousal, the heat of her desire.

the room was spinning, the only anchor in the darkness her eyes, locked on yours, her pupils dilated with lust. your breath mingled, your hearts pounded in sync as you both lost yourself in the moment. you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on to the facade, the lie that this was just two friends sharing a drunken mistake, that it didn’t mean anything more.

you pushed aside the thoughts, focusing instead on the feel of her, the taste of her, the sound of her breath hitching as you slid a finger inside her. she was tight, so tight, and so wet. you felt a thrill of power, of need, knowing that you could make her feel this way, knowing that she was just as lost in this as you were. you kissed her again, deep and needy, as you felt her hand slip down to mirror your own movements, her finger sliding into you, filling you, stretching you. you moaned into her mouth, the pleasure building, coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to consume you.

you rolled over, breaking the kiss, and pulled her on top of you, wrapping your legs around her hips. she sat up, straddling you, her breasts bouncing gently as she began to rock against your hand. you watched her, the flicker of the dying fire casting shadows across her face, her eyes half-closed in ecstasy. it was the most beautiful, heartbreaking thing you had ever seen.

you reached up to cup her breasts, feeling the weight of them in your hands, your thumbs teasing her nipples as she moved against you. she leaned down, her breath hot against your neck as she whispered, “don’t tell anyone, okay? i’m not—i’m not like that. i don’t do this.”

you nodded, your heart breaking a little more with each word. you didn’t care what she said, what she thought. all you knew was that you loved her, and this was what she needed, what you both needed, for now. so you held on, you gave her what she wanted, you let her use you as she sought refuge in the one place she thought she could never be found. you felt the tension building in her body, her muscles tensing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. you knew she was close, so close. you curled your fingers inside her, finding that perfect spot, and she let out a cry, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm.

you held her as she came down, her head resting on your shoulder, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. for a moment, you felt like everything was right in the world, like the universe had aligned and all was well. but when she pulled away, her eyes filled with tears, you knew that wasn’t true.

she rolled off you, onto her back, her chest heaving with the aftermath of pleasure and pain. she was crying, silent tears that rolled down her cheeks and into the pillow. you reached out to wipe them away, but she flinched, her eyes snapping open to look at you.

“i don’t wanna go to hell,” she whispered, her voice thick with regret. “i don’t wanna burn.”

you swallowed hard, your own eyes burning with unshed tears. you knew it was a mistake for her, that she didn’t love you the way you loved her. but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, to acknowledge the truth that was staring you in the face. so instead, you kissed her again, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could change her mind, that maybe she would see what you saw, feel what you felt. but she didn’t. she pulled away, sitting up and reaching for her clothes. you watched her, your heart in your throat, as she dressed in the darkness, her movements jerky and frantic. she didn’t look at you as she left the room, leaving you alone with the dying embers of the fire and the cold, hard truth of what had just happened.

you curled up on the bed, pulling the covers around you, trying to hold in the sobs that threatened to escape. you told yourself it didn’t mean anything, that it was just a drunken mistake. but deep down, you knew it did. every touch, every kiss, every stroke of her hand over your skin had been a silent confession of love, a love that she was too afraid to admit, even to herself. you lay there in the darkness, the room spinning with a mix of emotions: passion, pain, and a love so strong it hurt. you felt empty without her, as if she had taken a piece of you with her when she left. the smell of her perfume lingered in the air, taunting you with memories of her touch. you wanted to call out to her, to tell her how much you loved her, but you knew it would only push her further away.

so you cried, letting the tears fall silently onto the pillow. you cried for the love you had lost, for the love you never had. you cried for the girl who was so lost in her own beliefs, her own fears, that she couldn’t see what was right in front of her. and you cried for yourself, for the girl who had given her heart away so easily, only to have it shattered in return.

you woke with tears in your eyes, but you didn’t notice them. what you did notice, as your consciousness gradually returned, was the empty space beside you. the sheets on joohyun’s side were cold, the pillow untouched, as if she had never been there at all. your heart sank at the sight, a hollow ache blooming in your chest. the events of the night before felt distant, like a dream that you desperately wanted to hold onto but was slipping through your fingers with each passing second.

you forced yourself to sit up, your body feeling heavier than usual, the weight of reality pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. you noticed a small piece of paper on her pillow, a note, its presence both alarming and foreboding. with trembling fingers, you picked it up, your breath catching in your throat as you unfolded it.

the words were simple, written in joohyun’s neat, delicate handwriting: “i’ve gone to church.”

the heartbreak hit you like a freight train, a pain so deep and all-encompassing that it threatened to drown you. your vision blurred, the tears you hadn’t realized were there spilling over and streaking down your cheeks. you wanted to scream, to cry out, to demand an explanation, but there was no one there to hear you. the silence in the room was deafening, the emptiness around you suffocating.

you moved through the motions of getting dressed as if on autopilot, your mind numb to everything but the ache in your chest. you pulled on your clothes with trembling hands, the fabric rough against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had felt the night before. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, the sight of your own tear-streaked face making your stomach churn. you looked like a ghost, a hollow shell of the person you had been, and you hated it.

you forced yourself to move to the kitchen, the routine of making coffee providing a small, temporary distraction from the storm raging inside you. the familiar scent filled the air, but it did nothing to calm your nerves, nothing to ease the pain that gnawed at your insides. you took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid, but it tasted like ash on your tongue. everything felt wrong, out of place, as if the world had shifted beneath your feet and you were left stumbling in the dark.

when you heard the door open, your heart skipped a beat, a rush of emotions flooding through you all at once. joohyun stepped inside, the soft click of the door shutting behind her echoing in the quiet house. for a moment, she just stood there, her eyes meeting yours from across the room. there was a flicker of something in her gaze, something that mirrored the turmoil in your own heart, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

neither of you said a word. the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, like a barrier you couldn’t break through. you wanted to ask her where she had been, what she was thinking, if she remembered what had happened between you the night before. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. the words were lodged in your throat, choked by the fear of what her answer might be.

days passed, and she grew colder, more distant with each one. she stopped looking at you the way she used to, stopped touching you, stopped asking for your touch. it was as if nothing had ever happened between you, as if the kisses, the whispered words, the warmth you had shared were nothing more than figments of your imagination. the only time she spoke was to break the silence with more random facts about religion, about god, as if she was trying to convince herself of something, as if she was trying to drown out whatever it was that haunted her.

the lighter she carried with her had become a constant companion, a small, seemingly insignificant object that had taken on a sinister presence in your lives. she flicked it on and off, the tiny flame dancing before her eyes as she stared at it with an intensity that frightened you. “joohyun, you can’t keep doing this,” you had pleaded one day, your voice trembling with the weight of your concern, your love, your desperation. “please, talk to me. tell me what’s going on.”

but she had pushed you away, her eyes cold, distant, a look of resignation on her face. “there’s nothing to talk about,” she had said, her voice flat, emotionless. “this is just the way things are now.”

“no, it’s not,” you had cried, your voice cracking with the intensity of your emotions. “we can fix this. we can—” but she had cut you off again, her tone final, unyielding. “there’s nothing to fix.”

and so the days passed, each one more painful than the last. you tried to hold on, tried to be there for her, tried to reach her, but every time you got close, she pushed you away. the more you loved her, the colder she became, until you were left with nothing but the empty shell of the person you once knew.

then, one day, you couldn’t take it anymore. the anger, the frustration, the heartbreak had built up to the point where it was suffocating, choking you, leaving you gasping for air. when she came back from church that day, you were waiting for her, your heart pounding in your chest, your emotions swirling inside you like a storm.

as she walked past you, her shoulder brushed against yours, a touch so brief and so cold that it felt like a slap in the face. you reached out, grabbing her hand, desperate to make her stop, to make her listen. “joohyun, please,” you begged, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

but she pulled her hand back, her eyes flashing with anger, with something darker that you couldn’t quite name. “don’t touch me,” she snapped, her voice cold, cutting. you felt the words like a punch to the gut, the pain so sharp, so intense that it left you breathless. “where did it all go wrong?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “how could you do this to me? to us?”

ahe shook her head, her eyes hard, unyielding. “i won’t give in,” she said, her voice steady, resolute. “i won’t taint my soul.”

the words were like a knife to your heart, the final, brutal blow that shattered whatever hope you had left. you should have prayed. prayed for her to come back to you, prayed for her to love you the way she used to, but you couldn’t. instead, you spoke the truth that had been burning inside you for so long. “you’re already tainted.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy, damning, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in her eyes. hurt, anger, regret—you couldn’t tell. but then her expression hardened, and before you could react, she punched you in the face. the force of the blow sent you stumbling back, pain exploding across your cheek, but you didn’t hit her back. you couldn’t. Instead, you reached out, clinging to her, pulling her into a hug, desperate to hold onto the last piece of her that was still yours.

for a moment, just a brief, fleeting moment, she softened in your arms. you felt it, the warmth that had been missing for so long, the connection that you had been longing for. but it was gone just as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, unyielding wall she had built around herself. she shoved you away, her eyes burning with a fury that terrified you, and she punched you again, harder this time, sending you crashing to the floor.

you wanted to fight back, wanted to hit her, scream at her, demand to know why she was doing this, but all you could do was reach for her again. when you saw it, the look in her eyes, the confirmation that she wasn’t herself anymore—that was when you gave in, when it was your fist’s turn to collide with her face. and it did, the force of it sending her flying backwards, but you couldn't bear the sight of her, your heart breaking with every breath you took. you pulled her into another hug, your arms wrapping around her like a lifeline, but she shoved you away with a force that left you breathless. she walked out of the house without another word, the door slamming behind her, leaving you lying on the floor, broken and bleeding, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you.

you walked aimlessly through the empty streets, the pain in your jaw a dull throb that seemed to echo with every step you took. the bruises were a physical manifestation of the heartbreak that had shattered you from the inside out. the day had bled into dusk, the sky a muted canvas of purples and blues, the fading light doing little to ease the darkness settling in your heart.

the world around you felt distant, as if you were drifting through a dream you couldn’t wake from. your mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions, each one more conflicting than the last. you wandered without purpose, each step heavy with a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion. the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you, leaving you feeling empty and hollow.

you barely noticed the bump against your shoulder, the sharp sting of it cutting through your daze. it was only when a group of girls appeared, their faces a blur of anger and disdain, that you began to register the reality of your situation. they grabbed you roughly, pulling you back into a narrow alleyway, their hands striking you with a force that felt almost detached from the pain you were already feeling.

you didn’t fight back. the instinct to defend yourself, to protect what little was left, had long since faded. you let the blows land, each one a reminder of your own helplessness, a cruel echo of the turmoil raging inside you. the cold brick wall pressed into your back, the texture of it rough and unyielding against your skin. blood dripped from your chin, mingling with the grime of the alleyway, but you simply let it fall.

they continued their assault, their voices a cacophony of angry shouts that blurred into the background noise of the city. You heard them, but their words felt distant, like they were coming from another world. the realization that you didn’t care anymore, that you were willing to let it all end, was almost a relief. the bruises and the blood were physical manifestations of a deeper, more profound pain—a pain that you had long since accepted as part of your existence.

eventually, the girls left, their anger spent, leaving you slumped against the wall, barely able to lift your head. the alleyway was silent again, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional murmur of voices from the street. you pushed yourself upright, the effort making your body ache even more, but you didn’t have the strength to stay on your feet. you wandered aimlessly until you reached the middle of the street, your movements slow and unsteady. the world around you was a blur, the streetlights casting long, eerie shadows that danced across the pavement. the light of an approaching car caught your eye, so vivid among the darkness that had engulfed you.

you turned your head, the light from the car seeming almost to beckon you, a final, fleeting hope that perhaps something might change. but before you could process the thought, you felt the impact, a sudden, jarring collision that sent you sprawling across the asphalt. the world went black, the pain and the cold merging into a numb void that swallowed you whole. in those final moments, as consciousness slipped away, you thought to yourself. the light of the car, so bright, so welcoming. had it not been for the car, for the collision, you would've aasumed it was god. you would've assumed that it was your turn to see the light, the one that led you to the right path. a glimmer of light, a brief flash of salvation that never truly materialized. you thought, perhaps, that it was god, or fate, or some form of cosmic justice finally reaching out to you. but if there was a higher power, if there was anyone watching over you, they had chosen not to intervene. you had been loved, you thought, but not enough to be saved.

joohyun paced through the house, the remnants of alcohol and broken memories scattered across the rooms like ghosts of a past she could no longer escape. she moved mechanically, her movements driven by a frantic need to impose order on a chaos that had seeped into her very being. the empty cups, the overturned bottles—she swept them away with a fervor that bordered on madness. maybe, she thought, if she cleaned up the mess around her, she could purge the turmoil inside her. the scent of your presence lingered in every corner, an indelible reminder of the love she had been too broken to embrace fully.

as she scrubbed the surfaces, the stench of stale alcohol mixed with the acrid tang of her own tears. the house, once a sanctuary of shared moments and quiet intimacy, now felt like a prison of her own making. the realization that you had left and had not come back struck her like a physical blow. the emptiness of the space was a constant reminder of her failure, a space filled with echoes of laughter and affection now gone silent.

in a fit of frustration, her emotions erupted violently. she slammed her hands onto the table, its sturdy surface buckling under the force of her anger. dishes clattered to the floor, their shards adding to the chaos that had taken over. she pulled at her hair, the disheveled strands a physical manifestation of the mess in her mind. ahe stumbled into your room, her breath coming in ragged gasps. the sight of the piano, the once-beautiful instrument that had been a source of solace and joy, filled her with a wave of guilt and rage. with a sob of anguish, she attacked the piano. her fists pounded against the keys, each strike producing a cacophony of dissonant notes that seemed to scream her sorrow. the sound of the keys breaking and the strings snapping was a mournful dirge, one that echoed her internal devastation.

eventually, the piano fell silent, its music stilled. joohyun collapsed onto the floor, her energy spent, her body trembling from the effort and the tears. she was surrounded by the debris of her actions, the fragments of the piano and the shattered remains of the table forming a grim tapestry around her. the realization that she had driven away the one person who had loved her enough to try to save her was a crushing weight on her chest.

her gaze fell upon the lighter, the object that had once been a symbol of her independence and now a grim reminder of her inability to cope. it was the same lighter you had given her, its initials faded but still recognizable. with a numb resignation, she found herself tearing the closet door open. she knew it held everything she needed, sooner or later. in this case, now.

it was the precise reason she took the red tank in her hands, unscrewing the cap and getting a whiff of the pungent stench. she didn’t hesitate as she poured the gasoline around the room, the liquid sloshing and hissing as it spread. the smell of it mingled with the lingering scent of the alcohol, creating a nauseating cocktail that filled the air.

she sat on your side of the bed, her eyes fixated on the lighter. for a moment, she held it in her hand, the metal cold and heavy. she felt as if she were waiting for a sign, for some miracle to pull her back from the edge, but none came. no one was coming to save her from the end she had chosen. she had ruined her life, and yours too. it was a final act of defiance against the pain that had consumed her.

with a shaky breath, she tossed the lighter into the pool of gasoline. the flames ignited almost immediately, a brilliant, consuming blaze that spread rapidly through the room. joohyun watched, her face illuminated by the fiery glow, the warmth of the flames a contrast to the cold despair that had enveloped her. as the fire grew, so did her sense of finality. the flames danced and roared, consuming everything in their path. she sat amidst the chaos, her eyes vacant as she let the fire spread. she had become the sinner she felt herself to be, and now she had a hell of her own making. the house, once a place of memories and love, was now a testament to her ultimate surrender.

even as the fire spread, she could still see you. as her skin began to grow warm, all it did was remind her of your touch. nothing could compare to it, not even when her life was on the line. she had tried to be good for so long, but everything had finally come to an end. she had dreamt of a heaven, just to live in a hell of her own. it made her sick, it made her stomach churn. maybe this was how her mother felt. alone, helpless. maybe she died without a care in the world. that was how joohyun wanted to go out, without any pressure. but even as she laid back onto the bed, her fingers caressing your side, there was nothing but pressure. it wasn't the pressure of the fire’s warmth, but of the bed’s coldness. your side was still cold, as if the fire had died down, but it didn’t. and it wouldn't.

she let the fire engulf her surroundings, the smoke curling around her like a shroud. she didn’t move, didn’t try to escape. she was beyond redemption, beyond saving. she had chosen her fate, and as the flames reached towards the ceiling, she finally accepted that no one could save her from herself.

✧.*

a/n: this is a work of fiction and i had not intended on, not in a single moment, offending anybody. with that being said, if anybody feels offended by any aspect, let me know and the story will be deleted

a little older (더 나이든) — min yoongi (민 윤기)

✧.* 18+

building a life of your own was supposed to be the most important thing, a sacred endeavor carved out of dreams and determination. it was meant to be a testament to resilience, a collection of moments carefully stacked like cards, each one representing a triumph, a choice, a whispered hope. every decision, every relationship, every step forward was like placing a new card on the fragile structure—delicate, yet full of potential. there was an elegance in the construction, a beauty in the precariousness, as each layer rose higher, promising a future that was uniquely yours.

the foundation was always more fragile than it seemed. life, with all its unpredictable twists, was like a breath of wind, capable of unsettling even the sturdiest of foundations. the careful balance, once so meticulously maintained, could be disrupted by a single misstep, a fleeting moment of imbalance. and when it happened—when that one card faltered—it was as if time slowed, the world held its breath, and the house of cards began to tremble. in an instant, everything you had built with such care, such hope, began to collapse. the cards fell, one by one, in a cascading rush of loss. it wasn’t just the physical manifestations of your efforts that crumbled; it was the dreams, the aspirations, the very essence of what you had imagined your life could be. the crash was both silent and deafening, a paradox of destruction that left you standing in the aftermath, surrounded by the scattered remnants of what once was.

in those moments, it became clear that the life you had built, so painstakingly and with such love, was never as invincible as you had believed. it was delicate, ephemeral, a structure of possibilities rather than certainties. and now, with the cards lying in disarray around you, the realization settled in—building a life of your own was not just about the construction, but about the constant balance, the vigilance, the understanding that everything could be lost in a heartbeat. the house of cards was beautiful while it stood, but it was a fragile beauty, one that required more than just ambition to sustain—it demanded a deep awareness of its own impermanence.

the gentle hum of rome surrounded you like a comforting embrace, the city's timeless charm intertwining with the luxurious life you had carefully crafted for yourself. the cobblestone streets underfoot, the scent of freshly brewed espresso wafting through the air, and the vibrant murmur of voices from nearby tables—all were part of the life you had come to know and love. it was a life of indulgence, of quiet moments in quaint coffee shops between photoshoots, where you could savor the richness of your success, the delicate balance of beauty and fame that you had so skillfully maintained.

your phone vibrated softly on the marble tabletop, interrupting your thoughts. the screen flashed with the name of your manager, a reminder of the world that existed just beyond this fleeting moment of peace. you took a slow sip of your coffee before answering, already knowing the conversation that was about to unfold. “why won't you be able to make the shoot in milan?” her voice, usually calm and composed, carried a note of urgency, of disappointment that you could almost feel through the line.

you sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of the decision you had already made. “i gotta go back to daegu,” you began, choosing your words carefully as you gazed out at the bustling street, the vibrant life that you had temporarily claimed as your own. “i was enjoying some time off between shoots, but i have to go back. my mother called. she wants to get the family together.”

there was a brief pause on the other end of the line, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you. then, your manager exhaled, the disappointment in her voice palpable as she responded. “i'm disappointed. you know how important this shoot is, how much it could mean for your career. but i understand—family comes first.” you ended the call with a simple, “i'll be in touch,” the finality of the words echoing in your mind long after the call had disconnected. the weight of her disappointment hung over you like a shadow, mingling with your own. you were disappointed, too—disappointed that your carefully constructed life, the life you had fought so hard to create, was once again being pulled away by forces you couldn’t control.

the last thing you wanted was to spend a month in daegu, surrounded by your family and whoever else your mother decided to invite into your life. you had built something here, something that was yours alone. the glitz and glamour of the modeling world were more than just a career—they were your escape, your sanctuary from the past you had left behind. the riches, the fame, the adoration of the media—they were all a part of the life you had chosen, a life that felt worlds apart from the one that awaited you back home.

your father had always been supportive, his pride in your achievements a quiet but constant presence in your life. but your mother, your mother was another story. she had never truly understood the life you had built, never missed an opportunity to remind you of the family you had left behind, the obligations she believed you were neglecting. she was too emotional, too needy, always quick to turn to you with her problems, her fears, using you as her therapist when all you wanted was to be her daughter. it was a role you had never wanted, a burden you had never asked for, and one that had driven a deep wedge between the two of you.

as you sat in the coffee shop, the realization settled in with a dull ache—you didn’t want to go back. not now, not ever. the life you had built was there, in those moments of quiet luxury, in the thrill of the spotlight, in the knowledge that you were beautiful and that the world loved you for it. the idea of returning to daegu, to the suffocating expectations of family, was almost unbearable.

and yet, there you were, about to board a plane back to the place you had spent so many years trying to escape. you knew that once you were there, the walls you had so carefully constructed around yourself would start to crumble, brick by brick, as your mother’s words chipped away at the confidence you had so painstakingly built. but for now, you let yourself savor the last of your trip. you let the warmth of the roman sun wash over you, let the taste of rich coffee linger on your tongue, let the sound of the city’s heartbeat fill your ears. you allowed yourself this final moment of peace, a small luxury before the storm that awaited you back home.

the airport was a sea of hurried footsteps and murmured conversations, a place of constant motion and transient connections. the lights overhead were bright, almost glaring, casting a harsh glow on the polished floors and sleek, modern architecture. you walked through the bustling terminal with your head down, the brim of your hat casting a shadow over your face. the hat was slightly too big, the edges brushing against your sunglasses, but it was a necessary discomfort. you knew the hat and shades might draw attention, might make people look twice, but it was a risk you were willing to take. you couldn’t afford to be recognized tonight—not when the weight of the decision to return to daegu was already pressing down on you.

the noise of the terminal was a constant hum in your ears, a backdrop of lives intersecting and parting ways. you moved with purpose, but each step felt heavy, as if the gravity of what awaited you back home was pulling you down. the bustling crowd gave you a sense of anonymity, a comfort in the chaos, but there was always the underlying fear—what if someone recognized you? what if a single glance, a moment of misplaced attention, shattered the fragile anonymity you clung to?

you reached the gate, the final checkpoint before you could slip into the relative safety of the plane. the lady at the gate, dressed in a crisp uniform, greeted you with a professional smile, her eyes scanning you briefly before she spoke. “ticket, please.” you handed it over, your fingers brushing against the smooth paper, and you watched as she glanced at it, her expression unchanged until her eyes fell on your name. the realization dawned in her eyes, a flicker of recognition that quickly blossomed into a wide smile.

her voice dropped to a near whisper, a mix of awe and excitement as she spoke again, her tone more personal now. “are you in first class?” you nodded, a small, polite gesture, before affirming softly, “yes, i am.” her fingers trembled slightly as she checked the ticket, the formalities of her job momentarily forgotten as she glanced back up at you. the admiration in her eyes was unmistakable, a look you had seen a thousand times before, but one that still made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“i’m such a big fan,” she said, her voice almost reverent. “would you mind—?” she trailed off, pulling out a poster she had tucked away—a poster of you, one from a recent campaign, your face smiling back at you with a confidence you didn’t quite feel in this moment. you forced a smile, a nervous laugh escaping your lips as you replied, “of course.” you took the pen she offered, your hand moving almost automatically as you signed your name, the signature that had become so familiar to you, yet felt so alien in moments like this. the pen scratched lightly against the glossy paper, the sound almost lost in the noise of the terminal, but to you, it felt deafening. when you finished, you handed the poster back to her, your smile still in place despite the churning in your stomach.

“thank you so much,” she gushed, her voice barely above a whisper now, as if she were afraid to break the spell. “i hope you have a safe flight.” you nodded again, murmuring your thanks as you took your ticket back, slipping it into your bag with hands that felt too heavy, too cumbersome. the brief encounter had left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that only the public eye could make you feel. as you walked away, towards the plane that would take you back to a life you weren’t ready to face, you kept your head low, your hat pulled down just a little further, your sunglasses pressed tightly to your face.

the publicity was suffocating, a constant reminder of the life you had chosen, a life that came with its own set of rules and expectations. there were moments, fleeting but persistent, when all you wanted was a normal life—one where you could walk through an airport without being recognized, where you could board a plane without the weight of fame pressing down on your shoulders. but that life wasn’t yours to live, not anymore. so you kept your shades on, the brim of your hat shielding you from the world as you made your way to the gate, your steps quickening as you neared the entrance to the plane. you handed your ticket to the flight attendant, her smile professional and warm, and without a word, you slipped past her and into the sanctuary of first class. you found your seat and settled in, sinking into the plush leather with a sigh that was more of resignation than relief.

daegu’s air felt different the moment you stepped off the plane. the warm breeze carried with it the scent of familiarity—of home, of memories both cherished and forgotten. you moved through the terminal with a practiced ease, gathering your luggage as if in a trance. the sleek, designer suitcases were a stark contrast to the airport’s simple decor, a reminder of the life you had built away from here.

once you had everything in hand, you made your way out of the airport, your hat still pulled low over your face, your sunglasses firmly in place. the crowds here were less intense, less likely to recognize you, but you weren’t taking any chances. it was better to remain hidden until you were safely out of public view. you stepped out into the open air, the evening sun casting long shadows on the pavement, and you quickly hailed a cab.

the driver—a man in his mid-fifties with a kind, weathered face—didn’t say much as you slid into the back seat. you gave him the address, and he nodded, pulling away from the curb without a word. the silence was a gift, and you found yourself grateful for it. the drive through daegu’s familiar streets was oddly comforting, the buildings and landscapes bringing back a flood of memories, some pleasant, others less so.

as the car approached your childhood home, you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. you tipped the driver a bit extra as a silent thank you for the uninterrupted journey, and he accepted it with a small, appreciative nod. only when you were certain you were out of sight did you finally remove your sunglasses and hat, letting the cool air of the evening touch your face. you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before stepping out of the cab.

the sight that greeted you was unexpected—your parents stood in front of the house, their faces alight with joy, and a small group of people you didn’t recognize clustered around them. there was a makeshift cookout in the yard, the smell of grilled meat and the sound of laughter filling the air. it was a welcome-home celebration, one that should have made you feel warm inside, but instead, it only heightened your unease.

your father was the first to approach, his arms open wide. he was a strong, silent man, not one for overt displays of affection, but in this moment, he wrapped you in a hug that spoke volumes. you allowed yourself to sink into the embrace, feeling a flicker of genuine warmth. when he released you, you noticed your mother standing off to the side, her expression slightly pinched, as if disappointed that she hadn’t been the first to greet you. still, you turned to her with a smile, pulling her into a hug. her embrace was firmer, more scrutinizing, as if she were searching for something. “you’ve gotten thinner,” she remarked, pulling back to look at you, her tone half-critical, half-concerned.

you couldn’t help but laugh lightly, brushing off her comment. “that’s part of my job, mom.”  your father’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, his voice gentle as he added, “and you’ve gotten prettier, too.” he smiled as he stroked your hair, a gesture that felt both tender and grounding.

“i’ve missed you both,” you said, the words slipping out before you could fully process them. they felt genuine, though, and for a moment, you let yourself believe in the comfort of this reunion. but the moment was fleeting, your eyes drifting to the unfamiliar faces in the yard. “who are all these people?” you asked, unable to keep the curiosity—and slight irritation—from your voice.

your father gestured towards the group, his tone casual as he began introducing you to each of them. “these are some family friends. they’re only here for the day, but one of them will be staying for the month.” you smiled and nodded politely as each person was introduced, some of them expressing admiration for your work. you’d gotten used to it—meeting people who knew you before you knew them—but it didn’t make the encounters any less awkward.

“who’s the one staying?” you asked your father, trying to mask the apprehension in your voice. he chuckled softly, a knowing glint in his eyes. “you know him very well.”

you frowned, confusion knitting your brow. “what do you mean by that?” your father didn’t answer directly. instead, he simply gestured to a man walking toward you from the other side of the yard. you turned to look, your breath catching slightly as you took in his appearance. he was handsome, undeniably so, with a soft smile on his lips and a calm, confident way of moving. there was something familiar about him, but you couldn’t quite place it.

as he approached, his smile widened. “no, this can’t be (y/n),” he said, his tone light, almost teasing. for a moment, all you could think was how striking he was, and how frustrating it was that you couldn’t remember who he was. your father beamed with pride, his gaze flickering between you and the man. “she’s pretty, isn’t she?” he asked, his voice full of paternal affection.

the man nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. “gorgeous,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. there was a pause before he added, “do you remember me?” you searched his face, trying to dig through the layers of your memory, but nothing came to mind. with a reluctant shake of your head, you admitted, “i’m sorry, but no.”

your father laughed, a deep, hearty sound that rumbled through the air. “this is yoongi. he used to come over all the time to take care of you when you were younger and home alone.” your eyes widened in recognition, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly falling into place. “yoongi?” you echoed, incredulity coloring your voice.

he nodded, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “i’ve changed a bit, haven’t i?” you laughed nervously, still processing the transformation before you. “only in the best way,” you replied, your voice slightly breathless.

yoongi shrugged, the smile on his face turning a bit wry. “that’s what divorce does.” you blinked in surprise, the revelation catching you off guard. “you, you divorced miss jeon?”

he nodded, his expression calm, as if he were discussing something as mundane as the weather. “yeah. it was for the best, though.” you shook your head slightly, still reeling from the news. miss jeon had been such a constant presence in your life, always there to help out, to cook meals when your parents were busy. the idea of her and yoongi no longer being together felt strange, almost surreal. sensing your shock, yoongi gave you a reassuring look. “don’t worry about it,” he said gently. “it was the best outcome for both of us.”

you nodded slowly, still absorbing the information. “it’s just hard to believe.” he smiled again, this time a bit more softly. “i know. but it’s good to see you again.” he paused, stepping forward to envelop you in a warm hug, his arms strong and comforting. as he pulled back, he added with a teasing glint in his eye, “and don’t worry—you’ll be seeing a lot more of me for the next month.” you managed a smile in return, though your mind was still spinning with the unexpected turn of events.

yoongi had changed significantly, to your shock. it seemed to make your father chuckle, his amusement evident at your reaction, but it wasn't temporary shock. you found yourself staring at him for a second too long, trying to process how much he had changed. he was handsome, he seemed less stoic than you remembered. he had been taking care of himself, it was evident in the way his skin shined under the sunlight and how his muscles flexed in his shirt that was just, maybe, a little too tight. you had remembered him as skinny, borderline bland, but he took good care of you while he had to. he looked amazing for his age, even though he wasn't too older than you.

his mine had chosen to run wild, too. he was aware that you were no longer the little girl he watched over with his ex-wife. you had changed, blossomed into a woman. he knew it beforehand, when you had started working. as much as you were a global hit, you were a national star just as much, if not more. he had seen the photos, the interviews, the shoots. the first time he saw them, your father had showed them to him with a proud smile on his face that seemed to clash with yoongi's shock. it wasn't negative in the slightest, he simply couldn't believe how bold and beautiful you had gotten. seeing you in person made all the difference, you were even prettier in person.

the hot water cascaded over your skin, the steady stream washing away the lingering tension of the day. you stood under the showerhead, eyes closed, letting the warmth seep into your muscles, relaxing the knots that had formed from the journey and the unexpected reunion. the steam filled the small bathroom, wrapping you in a comforting cocoon of heat and humidity. the scent of the lavender-scented body wash mingled with the steam, creating an almost meditative atmosphere. there, in the quiet, steamy space, the world outside felt distant, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to be fully present, savoring the solitude.

but as you turned off the water and reached for a towel, your hand met only empty space. panic sparked in your chest as you realized you had forgotten to bring one with you. the heat from the shower quickly dissipated, leaving your skin to prickle with the chill of the air. you glanced around the bathroom, hoping to find a spare towel or anything to cover yourself with, but there was nothing.

resigned, you wrapped your arms around yourself as best as you could, trying to cover your body as you opened the bathroom door just a crack. the house was quiet, the murmur of conversation from the yard barely audible through the walls. it was late, and most of the guests had left. you took a deep breath, assuring yourself that everyone else was either outside or already settled in for the night. the coast was clear. you stepped out into the hallway, your bare feet making no sound on the cool wooden floor. with your hands still clutched to your chest, you hurried towards your room, your steps quick and silent. the soft hum of the house was the only sound accompanying you, and you felt a small sense of relief as you neared the safety of your door.

but as you rounded the corner, your breath caught in your throat. standing in the hallway, just a few feet away, was yoongi. He froze, his eyes wide with surprise as they locked onto yours. for a split second, neither of you moved, the shock of the situation rooting you both in place. yoongi’s gaze traveled down, his eyes widening further as he took in the sight of you—damp, vulnerable, and very much exposed. you saw the moment he realized what he was doing, his eyes snapping back up to your face, filled with a mix of apology and something you couldn’t quite place. his mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. he seemed to be struggling with himself, as if trying to force his eyes away, but they lingered just a second too long before he finally managed to turn his head, averting his gaze.

your heart pounded in your chest, embarrassment flooding your system as you clutched the clothes in your hands to your body, trying to cover as much of yourself as possible. “i—i’m sorry,” you stammered, the words coming out in a breathless rush. “i forgot to bring a towel.” he shook his head quickly, his back still turned to you, his voice strained as he replied, “no, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have looked. i didn’t mean to—i wasn’t trying to—” his words trailed off awkwardly, and you could see the tension in his shoulders as he gestured vaguely for you to return to the bathroom. “just go back. i won’t look.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. with your heart still racing, you turned on your heel and hurried back into the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. leaning against the cool tile, you let out a shaky breath, your skin tingling from both the chill and the residual heat of the shower. the image of his face, the way he had looked at you, flashed through your mind, and you felt your cheeks heat up in a mix of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

meanwhile, yoongi stood in the hallway, cursing himself silently. he had seen you grow up, watched you transform from the little girl he used to babysit into the stunning woman you were now. but that didn’t give him the right to look at you like that, to let his gaze linger when he knew he should have looked away. you were his friend’s daughter, and he was supposed to be here to support you, not ogle you like some kind of creep. he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to dispel the image of you that was now seared into his mind—the way your wet hair clung to your neck, the water droplets that had trailed down your skin, the way you had looked at him with those wide, startled eyes. he had to have some restraint. he couldn’t afford to lose control, not there, not now.

on the other side of the door, you were having similar thoughts. you couldn’t believe you had been so careless, so oblivious to the possibility that someone might see you. the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable, or worse, to leave him with a bad impression of you. you had always respected him, admired him even, and now you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had ruined everything with one careless mistake. as you slowly dressed, your hands still trembling slightly, you couldn’t help but wonder how this would affect the next few weeks. you would be seeing a lot more of him, and the thought of facing him after what had just happened filled you with a mix of dread and nervous anticipation.

dinner that evening was quiet, the usual hum of the house interrupted only by the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain and the soft murmurs of conversation. the long wooden table, covered with a simple white cloth, held the comforting spread of homemade dishes—steamed vegetables, grilled meats, and a bowl of steaming rice, all of which your mother had prepared with care. you had slipped into the kitchen earlier, wordlessly assisting her in setting the table and serving the food. she had smiled at you, her face softening with an expression you hadn’t seen in years. “thank you for helping,” she had said, her voice tinged with a quiet appreciation that made you pause. you had simply nodded in return, trying to ignore the strange twist in your chest.

as you walked into the dining room, you couldn’t help but notice yoongi seated at the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes watchful, as if he were silently observing everything around him. you caught his gaze for the briefest moment, and your heart skipped a beat. his eyes were dark, reflecting the soft light of the room, and when he looked at you, it felt as though he could see right through you. flustered, you quickly looked away, busying yourself with placing the last of the dishes on the table. your mother noticed the faint pink on your cheeks but said nothing, though a small, knowing smile played on her lips.

“you look beautiful in that dress,” yoongi said suddenly, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the comfortable silence. You froze for a moment, the compliment catching you off guard. the white dress was simple, something you had thrown on without much thought, but the way he said it made it feel like a grand gesture.

“yes, it really suits you,” your mother added, her tone bright. she was beaming at you, clearly pleased that someone had noticed. you forced a smile, your hands twisting the fabric of your dress nervously. you could feel yoongi’s eyes on you, and when you finally looked up, he was smiling at you—not just a polite smile, but something warmer, softer, and it sent a shiver down your spine. you tried to smile back, but your lips wobbled with the effort.

you took your seat, feeling his presence beside you like a tangible force, even though he was seated across the table. your father, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, began to ask you about your recent time in italy. “how was it?” he inquired, his voice full of genuine curiosity.

you paused, gathering your thoughts, and then answered, “i indulged in three things in italy—writing, wine, and men.” the words slipped out with a playful lilt, intended to tease, and the room erupted in laughter. your father chuckled, your mother giggled, and even some of the guests offered polite laughs. but yoongi’s reaction was different. his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and there was something stiff about the way he forced it onto his face. you caught the change in his expression and quickly looked away, but the image of his tight-lipped smile lingered in your mind. the thought of you—his little princess, as he had once affectionately called you—indulging in men made his stomach churn. he couldn’t reconcile the image of the young girl he had known with the woman sitting before him now.

“did you find a boyfriend?” your mother asked, a hopeful glint in her eyes. the question was laced with expectation, but you shook your head, dismissing the idea. “no, i don’t have time for that,” you replied, waving off the notion with a flick of your hand. the truth was, the thought of settling down, of committing to someone, felt suffocating, especially when your life was a whirlwind of photoshoots and travel. you enjoyed the company, the fleeting connections, but nothing more.

your father nodded thoughtfully and asked about your writing, his voice full of encouragement. “and your writing? how’s that going?” you hesitated for a moment, thinking about the journals and notes you had scribbled away during your time abroad. “i’ve done some dabbling here and there,” you admitted, keeping your tone light. you knew your father was proud of your creativity, always encouraging you to express yourself. but the truth was that the words you had written were a reflection of your darkest thoughts, the sides of yourself you kept hidden from the world. they were pieces of you that you had no intention of sharing.

“you should show us sometime,” he suggested, smiling warmly at you. you nodded, knowing full well that you never would. those words were yours alone, a private sanctuary in a life that was otherwise so public. as dinner wound down, the conversation grew quieter, the energy of the evening mellowing out. the food was nearly finished, and you pushed your plate aside, offering to help your mother clear the table. “i’ll do it,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather the empty plates.

“i’ll help,” yoongi offered, standing up almost immediately, his hands reaching for the dishes as well. you glanced at him, surprised by his sudden eagerness, but you didn’t refuse. together, the two of you worked in silence, clearing the table and bringing the dishes into the kitchen. the room was warm, filled with the lingering smells of the meal, and the only sound was the soft clinking of dishes being stacked.

as you reached for the same plate, your fingers brushed against his. the touch was brief, but it sent a jolt through your system, your breath catching in your throat. you looked up, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. his expression softened, something unreadable in his gaze, and you felt a blush creep up your neck, spreading across your cheeks. you both pulled your hands away quickly, embarrassed by the unintended contact. “sorry,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you focused on the dishes. “no, it’s fine,” yoongi replied, his voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper there. he paused, as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he simply turned away, continuing to clear the table.

the house had quieted down after dinner, the lingering smells of the meal now replaced with the comforting scent of night. you had helped your mother finish up in the kitchen, and after a few more polite exchanges with the guests, you excused yourself, claiming exhaustion from the long journey. your mother had given you a gentle, knowing smile, and your father had patted your shoulder, telling you to rest well. but even as you ascended the stairs, the house settling into a comfortable stillness, your thoughts were far from calm.

in your room, you began your nightly routine, each action methodical and deliberate, as if going through the motions might settle the unease in your chest. you pulled on a shirt—a soft, oversized one that hung loosely on your frame, the hem brushing against the tops of your thighs. it was one of those shirts that felt like a second skin, comforting in its familiarity. you paired it with a simple set of panties, the cool fabric brushing against your skin. the choice was practical, a blend of comfort and modesty, yet there was something almost intimate about it, a reminder of the solitude of the night.

you glanced at yourself in the mirror, the reflection showing a woman who should have been ready for sleep. but instead, your thoughts were restless, wandering to places you couldn’t quite control. you climbed into bed, the cool sheets welcoming against your warm skin, but the moment your head hit the pillow, you knew sleep would not come easily. there was something tugging at you, an inexplicable pull that you couldn’t ignore. it started as a whisper at the back of your mind, an insistent urge that grew louder with each passing moment. you told yourself it was foolish, that you should simply close your eyes and rest, but the more you tried to ignore it, the stronger the feeling became.

before you knew it, you were slipping out of bed, your bare feet silent against the wooden floor as you made your way out of your room. the house was dark, save for the faint moonlight streaming through the windows, casting long, pale shadows along the hallway. you moved quietly, the soft rustling of your shirt the only sound as you padded down the corridor, your heart beating steadily in your chest. you paused outside yoongi’s room, the door slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling out into the hall. you could hear him inside, the soft rustle of fabric, the quiet sound of his movements. you knew you shouldn’t be here, that you should turn around and go back to bed, but something kept you rooted to the spot.

you peered through the gap in the door, your breath catching in your throat at the sight that greeted you. yoongi was standing by the bed, his back to you, shirtless. his skin was pale, almost glowing in the soft light, his muscles defined yet subtle, the kind of physique that spoke of quiet strength. his shoulders were broad, tapering down to a narrow waist, and as he reached for a shirt, you couldn’t help but admire the way his biceps flexed, the smooth lines of his back. you knew it was wrong to look, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away, your gaze drawn to the way the muscles in his back moved as he pulled the shirt over his head.

it was only when he turned around, his eyes locking with yours, that you realized you had been caught. your breath hitched, a wave of heat flooding your face as you stumbled over your words, flustered and embarrassed. “i—i’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, “i didn’t mean to—” but he just smiled, that familiar, soft smile that you had seen countless times before. it was a smile that was both understanding and amused, as if he found your embarrassment endearing rather than intrusive. “it’s alright,” he said gently, his voice low and soothing. “you don’t have to apologize.”

you hesitated for a moment, still caught in the awkwardness of the situation, but then you found your voice again. “i just wanted to wish you a good night,” you said, your tone earnest, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. his smile widened, a hint of warmth in his eyes as he replied, “good night to you too.” there was a moment of silence, the air between you thick with something unspoken, and then you nodded, offering him a small, shy smile before turning to leave. as you walked away, you could feel his gaze on you, the weight of it sending a shiver down your spine.

when you returned to your room, the sense of restlessness had faded, replaced by a strange, warm feeling that you couldn’t quite explain. you slipped back into bed, pulling the sheets up around you, but this time, your thoughts were quieter, your mind slowly drifting towards sleep. in the room down the hall, yoongi stood for a moment, his mind replaying the brief exchange. he chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much you had grown and changed, to him, you were still that sweet, flustered angel—the same girl he had known all those years ago.

yoongi lay in the oppressive stillness of his room, his mind a tempest of conflicting emotions. the darkness enveloped him, offering no comfort, only amplifying the storm within. every attempt to find solace was met with the image of you in that absurdly tight white dress, an image that had seared itself into his consciousness with unforgiving clarity.

the sight of you—no longer the innocent child he once knew but a vision of such tantalizing allure—it was no shock when his hand found its way to his clothed dick, a silent admission of the battle he was losing. he began to stroke himself tentatively, the fabric of his boxers a barrier that only served to heighten the anticipation. his mind was a minefield of guilt and desire, each step he took towards release laden with the weight of his transgressions. he knew he should stop, that he should find some semblance of dignity and self-control, but his body was a traitor, demanding release from the prison of his own making.

his strokes grew more deliberate with his boxers gone, the friction increasing as he thought of what it would be like to touch you, to explore the softness of your skin and the heat that he was sure lay beneath. he bit his lip, trying to muffle the sounds of his own pleasure, his eyes fixed on the door that separated you from his indecent thoughts. the knowledge that you were so close only served to exacerbate his arousal, making his hand move faster and with more urgency.

his breath hitched as he imagined the moment of penetration, his cock pushing into you, feeling the warmth and wetness that was so alien to his usual solitary rituals. his hand was a poor substitute, but in the quiet of the night, it was all he had. the tension grew, a coil tightening in his balls, and he knew he was close. his thoughts grew more fervent, his strokes more frantic, until finally, with a silent groan, he reached climax.

his hand was sticky with his own release, a reminder of his failure to resist temptation. the guilt washed over him like a cold shower, leaving him trembling and ashamed. he knew he should clean up, should move on from this moment of weakness, but instead he lay there, panting and disgraced, the image of you still etched into his mind's eye. the quiet of the night was now a taunting silence, a reminder that he was alone in his depravity.

you awoke to the soft murmur of the morning light filtering through the curtains, its gentle embrace coaxing you from the depths of sleep. as you stretched languidly, you felt a sense of calm that made you smile. rising from your bed, you ribbed your eyes and padded softly down the stairs. the house was quiet, save for the faint, rhythmic ticking of a distant clock. it was a serene morning, perfect for easing into the day.

when you reached the kitchen, yoongi was already there, sitting at the table with a distracted air. his posture was rigid, and there was a certain tension in his demeanor that you couldn’t quite place. the moment you entered the room, his eyes flickered up toward you briefly before darting away. despite his efforts to look elsewhere, his gaze betrayed him, lingering far too long on your bare legs, which were still exposed, to his dismay. “good morning,” you said cheerfully, trying to set a light tone for the day. your voice was like a splash of warmth in the chilly air of the kitchen.

yoongi’s response was almost a whisper, a bare acknowledgment of your greeting. “morning.” you moved toward the coffee maker, the comforting routine of preparing breakfast a welcome distraction. “you want some coffee?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him. “yeah, that’d be great,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of gratitude, though it was laced with an awkwardness that made you wonder about his mood.

as you busied yourself with the coffee, you noticed the kitchen was unusually empty. your parents were absent, a fact that piqued your curiosity. “where are my parents?” you inquired, your voice carrying a note of concern. yoongi shifted slightly, as if the question had pulled him from his own thoughts. “they’re out for the day,” he said, his gaze now firmly fixed on the table, avoiding meeting your eyes.

you nodded, accepting his answer without further question. the rhythmic sound of the coffee machine filled the silence as you went about your task. when you reached for the sugar, you bent over to retrieve it from the cabinet. the movement was casual, a natural part of your routine, but you were acutely aware of yoongi’s intense gaze. the breath caught in his throat was audible, a sharp intake of air that seemed to punctuate the otherwise silent kitchen. he watched the way your shirt rose, faltering just above your hips, giving him a view of your thighs pressed together, ass hanging in the air with nothing but a pair of stupidly red panties adorning your skin.

it struck you then that yoongi’s reaction was more than mere surprise. it was as if he was struggling to maintain composure, as though he thought you were doing this deliberately to tease him. but you weren’t aware of any such intent; it was simply the way you moved. you straightened up with the sugar and continued preparing the coffee. when you finally handed him his cup, his eyes met yours for a fleeting moment. despite the lack of makeup, you felt a surge of confidence in his presence. his eyes softened, and there was a fleeting, almost imperceptible smile that tugged at his lips as he took the cup from you.

he cleared his throat, his voice tentative as he ventured into a new topic. “so, i’ve been meaning to ask about your writing. you seemed hesitant to talk about it last night.” you chuckled softly, the sound light and airy. “my writing is a product of all my worst parts,” you said with a shrug, attempting to downplay its significance.

yoongi’s eyebrows knitted together, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “i don’t believe you have any bad parts,” he said earnestly, his eyes searching yours for a hint of the truth. you shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “you’d be surprised,” you replied. “there are things that even the closest people don’t see.”

his expression softened, and for a moment, the tension in the room seemed to ease. you felt a familiar sense of safety in his presence, as if no time had passed since the days when you had felt so secure in his company. the familiarity of his presence, combined with the casual conversation, made you feel as though the world outside had paused just for the two of you.

you prepared for a day by the pool with a casual elegance, slipping into a bikini that showcased your figure with a subtle confidence. over it, you draped a sheer cover—a delicate, airy jacket that fluttered with every movement, its only purpose to add a touch of grace rather than offer any real coverage. the fabric was almost ethereal, catching the sunlight with each step you took, giving you an otherworldly aura.

descending the stairs, you made your way back to the living room, where you spotted yoongi. the moment you entered his line of sight, he looked up, and the breath caught in his throat. his eyes widened, a visible shift in his demeanor as he took in the sight of you. his heart seemed to drop, overwhelmed by the sight of you in your swimwear, the sheer cover highlighting your figure in a way that was both mesmerizing and painfully distracting.

with a cheerful smile, you called out to him, “hey, i’m gonna be by the pool. if you need anything, i’ll be around.” he nodded, his response barely audible, as if his mind was struggling to catch up with the reality of the moment. there was a heavy silence between you, filled with unspoken tension, as you turned and made your way outside.

once by the pool, you settled into a lounge chair, stretching out and letting the warmth of the sun envelop you. the heat should have been palpable, but your thoughts were consumed by yoongi. the sun’s rays might have been intense, but they barely registered in your consciousness compared to the whirlwind of thoughts about him. your mind drifted, replaying moments with him, the sound of his voice, the way he looked at you.

the quiet of the morning was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. you turned your head, squinting against the sunlight to see yoongi emerging from the house. he was shirtless, the warmth of the sun glistening off his skin. in each hand, he carried a glass—one for him and one for you. you couldn’t help but gulp at the sight of him, the way his physique was revealed in the sunlight adding a new layer of intensity to your already tangled feelings.

he reached you and offered one of the glasses with a slight, nervous smile. “i brought you something to drink. vodka lemonade.” you accepted the glass with a grateful smile, the cool drink a welcome relief from the heat. “thank you,” you said, taking a sip and savoring the refreshing taste.

he sat down beside you, his own drink in hand. there was a hesitant chuckle in his voice as he remarked, “i can’t believe i’m watching you drink. it’s kind of surreal.” you laughed softly, the sound light and airy. “i’m not a little girl anymore,” you said, glancing at him with a playful glint in your eye. “can you believe it?”

yoongi’s laughter was nervous, a strained attempt at casualness. “yeah, i can,” he replied, though the lie was almost tangible in the way he avoided your gaze. oh, if only you had known just how deeply his words conflicted with his inner reality. the poolside atmosphere was serene, the gentle ripples of the water reflecting the sunlight and adding a soothing background to your conversation. you sipped your drink, feeling the cool liquid contrast pleasantly with the warmth of the sun on your skin. yoongi sat close beside you, the space between you charged with an undercurrent of unresolved tension.

the heat of the sun was almost unbearable, and you found yourself shifting restlessly on the lounge chair. the coolness of the vodka lemonade was not enough to quell the growing discomfort you felt. it wasn’t merely the oppressive heat that was troubling you; there was an unsettling awareness that you had developed feelings for yoongi, and it was all too complicated. you knew it was wrong, knew you shouldn’t feel this way, but the truth was undeniable.

rising from the lounge chair, you decided to seek refuge in the kitchen. the cool interior of the house was a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside. you carried both glasses with you, their contents now barely touching the bottom of the tumblers. as you walked through the house, you could feel the tension in your steps, an eagerness to escape your own thoughts and the weight of your emotions.

once in the kitchen, you set the glasses down and grabbed the bottle of vodka and the jug of lemonade. the motion of pouring the vodka into the lemonade, the swirl of the liquid mixing together, was almost meditative. yet, the comfort of the routine did little to ease the restlessness simmering within you. in an effort to cool off, you discarded your sheer cover, letting it fall onto a nearby chair. the fabric slid off your shoulders and pooled on the seat, leaving you in your bikini once more.

the heat of the kitchen seemed to intensify as you stirred the drink, but it wasn't just the temperature that was making you sweat. you were grappling with the undeniable reality that you had feelings for yoongi—feelings that were supposed to be off-limits. the conflict inside you was almost as unbearable as the heat itself. he was quite literally your father's best friend, you had to keep repeating that to yourself, praying for some sort of voice of reason.

just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps alerted you to yoongi’s presence. you turned to find him standing at the kitchen entrance, his eyes fixed on you. for a moment, time seemed to freeze. your heart leaped in your chest, each beat echoing the tumult of emotions that had been swirling within you. you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “are you okay?” you asked, the words slipping out with a hint of vulnerability.

his gaze was intense, almost pained as he took a step closer. he shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “how can i be okay?” he asked, his voice heavy with emotion. “with you like this around me, for the next month?” the words hung between you, charged with a tension that neither of you seemed able to escape. Your heart pounded as you processed the implication of his statement. it was clear now—he was feeling the same struggle, the same undeniable pull that you were.

you pressed your lips together, trying to find the right words. “i can’t handle it either,” you admitted quietly, the weight of your own confession settling over you. “but it feels so wrong.” to your surprise, yoongi closed the distance between you in a few swift strides. his hands reached out, gripping your waist with a firmness that was both reassuring and electrifying. his gaze was locked onto yours, filled with a blend of longing and resolve.

without another word, he pressed his lips against yours. the kiss was sudden, a powerful surge of emotion that seemed to silence every other thought in your mind. his touch was both demanding and tender, his lips moving with a desperate intensity that spoke volumes. when he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours with an almost anxious urgency. “does it still feel wrong?” he asked, his voice a low, husky murmur.

the question hung in the air, and without thinking, you responded by closing the space between you again. you pressed your lips against his, this time with a fierceness that matched the tumult of your feelings. the kiss was fervent, each movement a declaration of the emotions that had been kept in check for far too long.

his hands began to roam, exploring the curves of your body, lingering on your breasts. the feeling of his rough fingers against your sensitive skin made you gasp into his mouth. yoongi took advantage of the opportunity, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. you could feel the hunger in his touch, the need that mirrored your own.

his thumbs grazed your nipples, eliciting a moan from your throat. the sound seemed to drive him wild, and his touch grew more insistent. he pinched and rolled your nipples, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. your pussy grew wetter with each touch, and you found yourself grinding against his thigh, seeking relief from the growing ache.

his hands slid down to your waist, then under the fabric of your bikini bottom. with a swift motion, he pulled it aside, exposing your wet, eager pussy to the cool kitchen air. the contrast made you shiver, and you felt his cock harden against your stomach. the reality of what was happening was overwhelming, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all that mattered was the feel of his hands on you, the taste of him, the promise of what was to come.

you broke the kiss, panting. “right here?” you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. yoongi nodded, his eyes dark with lust. “right here, right now,” he confirmed, his voice a gruff whisper. he stepped back, guiding you towards the kitchen counter. “i need to taste you,” he said, his gaze dropping to your pussy.

his words sent a thrill through you, and you eagerly climbed onto the counter. your legs parted, and he stepped between them, his eyes feasting on the sight before him. you watched as he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin. then, his tongue touched you. the sensation was exquisite, sending shockwaves through your body. you grabbed onto the edge of the counter, your knuckles turning white as you held on for dear life.

his tongue swirled around your clit, flicking and probing, as his fingers delved deeper into your pussy. you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body tightening in anticipation. the air was thick with the scent of your arousal, and your moans filled the kitchen. it was all so wrong, but it felt so incredibly right.

his eyes met yours, and you could see the hunger in them, the desire to claim you in every way possible. without a second thought, you leaned back, exposing your throat. “choke me,” you begged, the words slipping out on a breathless whisper. yoongi’s eyes flared with surprise, but he didn’t hesitate. his hand wrapped around your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel both safe and utterly vulnerable.

his mouth returned to your pussy, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers. the feeling of his hand on your throat, the way he controlled your breathing, was intoxicating. your orgasm built, wave upon wave of pleasure crashing over you. and when it finally hit, it was like nothing you had ever felt before—intense, all-consuming, and absolutely filthy.

his mouth remained on you, even as you gasped for air, his tongue lapping up every drop of your release. when he finally pulled away, his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction. “you gonna help me out, too?” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “gonna suck my cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do?”

you slid off the counter, your legs wobbly from the intensity of your climax. dropping to your knees, you looked up at him, his cock standing proud and hard before you. without hesitation, you took him in your mouth, the taste of your juices mingling with the salty tang of his skin. his hand found its way to the back of your head, guiding you deeper. “fuck, princess, just like that,” he hissed, his grip tightening. you could feel his cock thicken in your mouth, and the power of the moment was exhilarating. you sucked and licked, eager to please him, to show him how much you wanted this.

his hips began to rock, fucking your mouth with an increasing urgency, his head embracing the back of your throat. you didn't care, you had all the reasons in the world to stop and set boundaries, but even more not too. he pulled at your hair, grunting with his heavy cock splitting your throat open. he looked down at you, your teary eyes and puffy lips, and it only made it worse for him, his cock throbbing in your mouth, but he couldn't cum like that. he needed to feel you, to tear you apart, to ensure that you'd never look for that kind of control from any other boy. nobody but him, he was the perfect pick. you needed somebody just a little bit older.

his cock slipped out of your mouth with a wet pop, and before you could even gasp for air, he turned you around, pressing you against the counter. his hand found its way into your bikini again, two thick fingers plunging into your pussy. you felt yourself stretch around him, your body begging for more. “you're soaked,” he murmured, his voice filled with a dark kind of glee. “you're gonna be the death of me.” you pushed back against his hand, wanting him to go deeper, to fill the ache that had only been heightened by his touch. “please,” you moaned, the word barely coherent as it slipped from your lips. “i need you.”

yoongi stepped closer, his body pressing against your back. “you're gonna get me,” he promised, his voice gruff with desire. he removed his fingers and lined up his cock, pressing the head against your entrance. he hadn't even pushed past your sopping folds yet, and you were already a mess. you felt him enter you, inch by inch, stretching you out. it was painful and perfect all at once, his girth splitting you open, filling you up in a way that made you feel so full, so alive. you bit your lip to stifle a scream as he pushed deeper, until he was fully seated inside you. your pussy clenched around him, desperate to keep him there, to never let him go.

his hand returned to your throat, squeezing gently as he began to move. the counter was cold against your stomach, but you didn't care. all you could focus on was the way he filled you, the way his cock slammed into you with each powerful thrust. his other hand snaked around your body, playing with your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

his grip tightened on your throat, cutting off your air. you felt the panic rise, but it only made you wetter. “you like that, don't you?” he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. “you like being choked while i fuck you?” your eyes rolled back in your head, and you nodded frantically. it was sick, it was twisted, but you didn't care. it felt too good to think about stopping.

his strokes grew faster, more erratic, his breathing ragged in your ear. “i'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice strained. “where do you want it?” you choked out the words, “inside me,” and he growled his approval. with one final, powerful thrust, he released his grip on your throat, and you felt his warmth flood into you. your body convulsed around him, your own orgasm ripping through you with a ferocity that left you trembling.

his cock remained buried inside you as he leaned over, pressing his sweat-slicked chest against your back. “all mine,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “mine to fuck, to fill up with my cum.” your pussy clenched around him, milking every drop he had to give. the thought of his cum inside you, claiming you, made your core throb with a deep, primal need.

his cock slid out of you, and you felt the emptiness acutely. but before you could protest, he was pushing his cum-soaked fingers into your mouth. “have a taste,” he demanded, and you eagerly complied. the taste was salty and bitter, but it only served to drive you wild. your eyes watered as you sucked on his digits, cleaning them thoroughly.

he pulled away, his fingers tugging your bikini bottom up, the fabric pushing his sticky cum further into your sore cunt. “keep it in,” he ordered, his eyes dark and possessive. “i don't want my cum to spill out of that tight little cunt.” you nodded, standing on shaky legs. he reached out, grabbing your chin and tilting your face up to his. “good girl,” he praised, his eyes searching yours.

you stepped away from the counter, the stickiness between your legs a constant reminder of what had just happened. your bikini was askew, and your body was still flushed with arousal. yoongi reached out, gently adjusting your bottoms to cover your swollen pussy. “don't tell anyone,” he whispered, his eyes serious. “this is our little secret.” you nodded, your throat tight with the promise of more to come. the air was thick with the scent of sex, and the kitchen felt different now—like a sacred space where you had both lost and found something in the heat of passion. “i won't,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “but what happens now?”

yoongi leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “now,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “we do this again, and again. until we can't get enough of each other.” his hand slid down to cup your ass, squeezing it possessively. “you're mine, and i have no intention of letting you go.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and fear. you knew this was wrong, knew that it could ruin everything, but the feeling of his cum inside you, his claim on your body, was too tempting to resist. you were in too deep, and you had no intention of climbing out

the hours stretched interminably, the passage of time marked only by the shifting light that filtered through the windows. you found yourself drifting between contemplation and restlessness, your thoughts endlessly circling the intimacy you had shared with yoongi. the weight of the moment, the raw intensity of the sex, seemed to press down on you with an almost unbearable gravity.

you had retreated to your room, seeking solace in its familiar confines. the bed, once a place of comfort, now felt like a vessel of confusion and regret. you lay there, staring at the ceiling, the room around you bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon sunlight. your mind was a turbulent sea, tossing around memories of the kiss, the touch of his hands on your waist, and the conflicted look in his eyes. the sex, though fleeting, had been a revelation, an unspoken admission of what lay between you, and the enormity of it was daunting.

every time you closed your eyes, his face would appear, his gaze filled with a mixture of longing and anguish. the guilt that gnawed at you was mirrored by his own struggle. you had noticed it earlier when he had walked away from the kitchen, his shoulders slumped and his expression a portrait of internal conflict. it was clear that he was grappling with the same turmoil that had taken root within you.

the silence of the room was occasionally broken by the vibrations of your phone. the pings were a jarring intrusion into your contemplation, each one a reminder of the world outside your cocoon of worry. finally, when you reached for your phone, you found a message from taehyung, a friend whose exuberance was a contrast to the somber mood you were engulfed in. it read, “hey! i heard you’re back in daegu. i’m at the club tonight, and it’s been a while. you should come out and join me.”

the simplicity of taehyung’s invitation, the promise of an evening away from your internal strife, was like a breath of fresh air. it was exactly what you needed to escape the relentless spiral of guilt and self-reproach that had been consuming you. the thought of a night at the club, surrounded by friends and lost in the rhythm of music, was a welcome distraction, a way to momentarily forget the weight of your decisions and the confusion surrounding your feelings for yoongi.

without hesitation, you texted him back, accepting his invitation with a mix of relief and eagerness. the prospect of spending a night out, dancing and socializing, offered a tangible remedy to the unease that had settled so heavily upon you. in the privacy of your room, you stood in front of the mirror, preparing for a night out at the club. you had carefully chosen an outfit that was both stylish and expressive of your current mood—a sleek, black dress with a daring neckline that accentuated your figure, paired with heels that added just the right amount of allure. the dress clung to your curves in a way that felt both confident and liberating, each movement highlighting the grace you carried with you.

you applied your makeup with a meticulous touch, opting for a smoky eye that added a touch of glamour, and a bold lip color that completed the look. each brushstroke was a deliberate effort to transform yourself into someone who could temporarily escape the heaviness of recent days. the final touch was a pair of sparkling earrings that caught the light as you moved, completing your ensemble with a flourish.

as you finished getting ready, you heard the faint sounds of yoongi moving about in his room across the hall. you knew he was there, but the emotional weight of your recent interactions had kept you from directly addressing him. yonight was about reclaiming a sense of normalcy and fun, and the club seemed like the perfect escape. as you prepared to leave, you crossed the hall to grab a quick look at your reflection in the full-length mirror one last time. just as you turned, yoongi’s door opened slightly. he stepped into the hallway, his eyes widening in surprise as they took in the sight of you.

“where are you off to?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of curiosity mingled with an undertone of something else—something darker. you flashed him a bright, carefree smile, trying to inject a sense of lightness into the conversation. “taehyung is taking me to a club tonight,” you said, your voice cheerful despite the undercurrent of unease you felt.

his reaction was immediate. a flicker of frustration crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a strained smile. “okay,” he replied, his voice barely concealing the tension that simmered beneath his words. “have a good time.” you nodded, feeling a pang of guilt at his subdued reaction, but the promise of a night out with friends was too alluring to ignore. you offered a final smile before turning and walking down the stairs, the click of your heels echoing in the quiet house.

as you stepped outside, the cool night air greeted you with a refreshing contrast to the warm interior. taehyung was waiting by his car, his face lighting up with a friendly grin as he saw you approach. he stepped out of the vehicle, and the two of you exchanged a warm hug. his arms encircled you in a friendly embrace, his laughter ringing out as he playfully commented on how good you looked.

from the window, yoongi watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of unease. he saw the way taehyung looked at you, the way his eyes lingered on you with an admiration that seemed to cut through the night’s darkness. the casual familiarity of your hug, the easy way taehyung interacted with you, ignited a smoldering frustration within yoongi. he clenched his fists, trying to suppress the bubbling anger that rose within him. it wasn’t just the sight of you with someone else—it was the way taehyung’s gaze seemed to hold a mixture of affection and possessiveness that yoongi found almost unbearable. every movement, every gesture, seemed to etch itself into his memory with a burning intensity.

as you and taehyung got into the car and drove away, yoongi’s eyes remained fixed on the scene. the darkness of the night and the dim streetlights cast long shadows, but his thoughts were sharp and clear. the image of taehyung’s hug, the warmth and ease between the two of you, was seared into his mind, adding fuel to the smoldering frustration that had taken root within him.

the club was a pulsating whirl of neon lights and thumping bass, the energy of the crowd vibrating through the floor and into your very bones. the air was thick with the mingling scents of perfume and sweat, and the faint haze of smoke from the fog machines created an almost dreamlike atmosphere. music reverberated through every corner, a relentless beat that drove the rhythm of the night.

you and taehyung arrived to a warm welcome from the crowd, who greeted you with a mix of admiration and excitement. the club’s patrons had clearly heard of your return to daegu, and you were immediately swept up in the buzz of their enthusiasm. as you made your way through the throng of bodies, taehyung by your side, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of flashing lights and lively chatter.

at the bar, you signed another autograph, your signature fluid and practiced as you scrawled your name on a series of glossy photos and memorabilia. taehyung stood beside you, his laughter a comforting sound amid the chaos. “i’ll never get used to this,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. his eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and curiosity. you chuckled softly, the sound almost lost amidst the cacophony of the club. “neither will i,” you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. the constant attention, the flashes of cameras, it all felt a bit surreal, a reminder of the world you had momentarily stepped away from.

his expression softened as he glanced at you, noticing the subtle change in your demeanor. “why so down?” he asked, his tone gentle but inquisitive. you hesitated for a moment, the weight of your recent experiences heavy on your shoulders. “it’s a long story,” you replied, not willing to delve into the complexities of your emotions right now.

his eyes showed a glimmer of understanding, and he didn’t press further. instead, he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “well, don’t let it ruin tonight. you’re here to have fun, remember? just let go and enjoy yourself for once.” his encouragement was a lifeline, and you took it to heart. you smiled at him, gratitude mingling with the resolve to let the night’s energy lift you from your thoughts. “okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. “let’s do this.”

the two of you moved towards the dance floor, the pulsating rhythm of the music beckoning you closer. as you stepped onto the floor, the crowd seemed to part and then close around you, a living sea of people moving in sync with the beat. he slipped into the rhythm effortlessly, his movements fluid and confident. you followed his lead, allowing the music to wash over you and carry away the remnants of your lingering worries.

the lights above shifted in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting dynamic patterns across the dance floor. you lost yourself in the beat, your body swaying and twisting in time with the music. the beats were relentless, and as you danced, you felt the strain of the day’s emotions slowly dissolve, replaced by the exhilaration of the moment. the music seemed to resonate with something deep inside you, a reminder of the joy and freedom that had once been so familiar.

you occasionally glanced at taehyung, who was clearly having a blast. his infectious energy was a bright spot in the evening, and his carefree dancing seemed to pull you further into the night’s festivities. every now and then, he would catch your eye and flash a grin, as if to say, “see? isn’t this fun?”

as the night wore on, you took a break from dancing to grab a drink. the bar was bustling with activity, and the bartender quickly mixed a vibrant cocktail that was both refreshing and potent. you sipped the drink, feeling its coolness slide down your throat, and let the alcohol take the edge off your remaining anxieties. the conversation around you was a pleasant hum, and you found yourself engaging in light, cheerful banter with a few fellow partygoers.

every once in a while, you would catch sight of taehyung making his way through the crowd, often surrounded by a small group of admirers. his laughter and charisma were magnetic, drawing people in and creating an atmosphere of shared joy. you were grateful for his presence, his ability to make the night feel lighter and more enjoyable.

the night continued in a blur of music, dancing, and shared moments of joy. you felt a renewed sense of connection with taehyung and the people around you, a reminder that even amidst personal turmoil, there was still space for fun and camaraderie. as the hours passed and the club’s lights began to dim, signaling the approach of closing time, you felt a sense of contentment.

stepping outside into the cool night air, you took a deep breath, savoring the contrast between the heated club and the refreshing outside air. he stood beside you, his expression one of satisfaction and camaraderie. “see? that wasn’t so bad,” he said, nudging you playfully. you smiled, feeling a genuine sense of relief. “thanks for getting me out tonight,” you said. “i needed this.”

his grin widened. “anytime. let’s just make sure you don’t stay cooped up forever. there’s a lot more fun to be had.” as you both made your way to the car, the night felt lighter, and the burdens of the past few days seemed a little more manageable. the club had provided the distraction you needed, and as you drove away with taehyung, you allowed yourself to savor the fleeting moments of carefree joy that the night had offered.

in the stillness of the living room, the ticking of the clock seemed to echo louder with each passing second. yoongi sat slouched on the sofa, the dim light from the table lamp casting shadows across his face. his fingers fumbled with a can of beer, the metallic crumple of the empty container a testament to his mounting frustration. it was two in the morning, and you still hadn't come home. the silence of the house was oppressive, amplifying his anxiety and gnawing at his thoughts.

had something happened to you? had a stranger taken you for the night? the possibilities raced through his mind, each one more unsettling than the last. the quietness of the house was occasionally interrupted by the distant hum of the refrigerator or the soft rustle of the curtains, but these sounds did little to soothe his growing unease.

he watched the second hand of the clock tick away, each movement a reminder of the time slipping by. his fingers drummed impatiently against his knee, and the empty beer cans scattered on the table beside him were a reminder of how long he’d been waiting. the weight of his concern grew heavier with each passing minute, turning into an almost unbearable pressure.

finally, a sound broke through the silence—the unmistakable click of the front door opening. yoongi’s head snapped up, his heart racing with a mixture of relief and frustration. he watched as you stumbled into the living room, your movements unsteady and your eyes slightly glazed. the sight of you brought a wave of relief, but it was quickly overshadowed by a surge of anger.

you wobbled slightly as you approached him, your gaze softening as you took in his presence. with a tired but genuine smile, you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into him. “i missed you,” you murmured, your voice thick with the effects of too many martinis. he let out a low chuckle, his amusement tinged with exasperation. “you smell like alcohol,” he observed, his tone more resigned than accusatory.

you frowned slightly and gestured towards the table where the empty beer cans lay. “and you’re no better,” you retorted, a playful edge to your words despite your unsteady stance. he raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “what were you doing at the club for so long?” he asked, his tone more serious now.

you shrugged, your arms still draped around his neck. “having fun,” you replied, a hint of mischief in your voice. he scoffed, a small smile playing on his lips. “with who?” he demanded, his tone edged with a hint of jealousy.

you grinned, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “with taehyung,” you said, the name rolling off your tongue with an affectionate lilt. his expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the information. to your surprise, he reached out and gently lifted you up, placing you onto his lap. the movement was deliberate, his hold firm but gentle as he settled you comfortably. “with taehyung, huh?” he said, his voice low and contemplative as he looked at you.

you nodded shyly, your hands pressing against his chest for balance. “yeah,” you said softly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his gaze lingered on you, a conflicted mix of emotions evident in his eyes. “you two must be pretty close, huh?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of possessiveness.

you nodded again, feeling the intensity of his stare. “we’re friends,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering effects of the alcohol. his eyes darkened slightly, his frustration evident. “i don’t like that,” he said, his tone firm and resolute.

you tilted your head slightly, leaning into his touch as you pressed closer to him. “why not?” you asked, your voice soft and inquisitive. his hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers brushing gently against your skin. “friends who look at you the way he does,” he said, his voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. he paused, his lips brushing against your neck as he continued, “make my blood boil.”

your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, the warmth of his breath mingling with the softness of his lips. the sensation was intoxicating, drawing you closer to him. without further hesitation, yoongi closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. the kiss was both urgent and tender, a mixture of the longing and frustration that had been building between you. his arms encircled you, pulling you even closer as the world outside seemed to fade away.

the kiss deepened, his fingers tangling in your hair as he explored the softness of your lips. it was a moment of pure connection, a release of the emotions that had been pent up for too long. the intensity of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, made you feel as though nothing else mattered in that moment.

his hand slid down to the small of your back, his grip tightening as he pulled you onto his lap. the fabric of your black dress was thin, offering little resistance to his touch. you could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, a silent declaration of his desire. your breath hitched in your throat as his hand moved higher, cupping your breast through the material. your nipples were already hard, begging for his attention.

without breaking the kiss, yoongi reached down and began to tug at the hem of your dress. the sound of fabric ripping filled the room as he pulled it up over your head, leaving you in just your lacy black lingerie. the sight of you half-dressed was almost too much for him to handle. his eyes raked over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. his hands roamed over your curves, his fingers tracing the lace of your panties. as he pulled them down, he caught a glimpse of the cum stain from earlier, a pleasant reminder of what he had done. his eyes flashed with possessive lust as he took in the sight of his dry cum on the fabric. “took it like such a good girl,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

his hands found your hips, guiding you onto his waiting erection. the sensation of skin on skin was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. he was rougher this time, his movements urgent and demanding. with each thrust, he slapped your pussy, the sound echoing in the quiet room. the stinging sensation only served to heighten your arousal, making you moan louder with each hit.

his hands gripped your waist, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had you riding him like a wave. the feeling of his cock filling you up was almost too much to bear, but you craved more. your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons in his skin as you leaned back, throwing your head back in ecstasy.

his dirty talk grew more intense, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your chest. “don’t wanna see you with anymore boys,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. “they won’t ever get to have you like this.” the words sent a fresh wave of desire through you, your walls tightening around him as you neared climax. his strokes grew more erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he approached his own release. you could feel him swelling inside you, his muscles tensing as he fought to hold back. but you were beyond caring about his control, your own need overwhelming any thought of restraint.

he took sight of the way his cock buried itself in your stomach, the outline evident. it was enoufh to make his dick twitch, he could practically see it happening. finally, with a guttural groan, he let go, filling you with his hot cum. the sensation pushed you over the edge, and you came hard, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. tears streamed down your face, not from pain, but from the intensity of the pleasure that consumed you. as you collapsed onto his chest, gasping for air, you realized that this was the most alive you had ever felt.

“we need to stop doing this,” you exhaled softly, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. “stop?” he echoed, his voice gruff and surprised.

“it’s complicated enough already,” you murmured, your heart racing from the aftershocks of your climax. his grip on your waist tightened, his cock still pulsing inside you. “i don’t want us to stop,” he said, his voice unyielding. “is it such a crime to want you all to myself?”

his words sent a thrill through you, but also a pang of fear. you knew the consequences of your actions, the web of lies and deceit that would unravel if anyone found out. yet, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him, the way he made you feel alive and desired in a way no one else ever had. you pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the present, the warmth of his embrace, the scent of your mingled arousal, and the sticky mess between your legs. it was a mess you didn’t want to clean up, a mess that was a testament to your shared passion.

his hands began to move again, stroking your body with a gentle fierceness that made your skin tingle. he knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you ache for more. his fingers traced the path of his earlier possession, the cum stain on your panties now a wet smear as he slid his digits through it.

you gasped as he brought his hand up to your face, your own cum glistening on his fingers. before you could protest, he brought them to your mouth and slid them in, urging you to taste. the sweet and salty flavor filled your mouth, and you felt a wave of submission wash over you. his other hand found your clit, his thumb flicking and circling the sensitive nub as he began to thrust into you once more. his cock was still hard, the friction of his earlier release only adding to the intensity of the moment.

you couldn’t help but moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you gave in to the sensations. the room spun around you, your body no longer your own as he claimed you over and over again. it was a rough, animalistic fucking that made you feel more alive than you ever had. his slaps grew more forceful, his words more demanding. “say it,” he ordered, his voice harsh in your ear. “say you’re mine, only mine.”

“yoongi,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m yours, only yours.” his pace quickened, his strokes becoming more erratic as he neared his second climax. you could feel his balls tightening, his body coiling like a spring ready to release. with a final, desperate groan, he emptied himself inside you, his cum mixing with your juices.

you collapsed onto him a second time, your body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction. the room was still, the only sound the harshness of your breathing and the thundering of your hearts. for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered but the two of you, lost in a sea of passion and desire. but reality would come crashing back soon enough, with the light of day and the harsh truth of your actions. for now, though, you were his, and he was yours, bound by a secret that neither of you could escape.

you sat at your desk, the dim light of your lamp casting a soft glow over the pages of your journal. the room was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the pages as you turned them, the only sound breaking the silence of your introspective evening. the journal was your refuge, the place where you poured out your grief and unspoken pain, each word a release of the emotions that had been bottled up for too long.

your pen moved across the page in a hurried scrawl, the ink reflecting the depth of your sorrow. you wrote about the ache of missing your old self, the pressure of expectations unmet, and the weight of a future that seemed increasingly uncertain. tears blurred your vision, making the words on the page dance and waver. each tear that fell onto the paper seemed to absorb the rawness of your emotions, the ink smudging as your sorrow seeped into the pages.

you had shared so much with those sheets of paper, details of your grief that had remained unspoken. it was as if the journal was an extension of your heart, a place where your deepest fears and frustrations could find solace. but tonight, the act of writing felt especially cathartic and painful, the tears falling freely as you bared your soul to the empty pages.

the sound of footsteps from downstairs interrupted your solitude. you closed the journal and wiped your eyes hastily, trying to regain composure as you headed towards the staircase. the air downstairs was cooler, and the distant clinking of dishes and murmurs of conversation signaled that your mother was awake.

as you descended the stairs, you saw her seated at the kitchen table, her gaze directed towards the window. yoongi was in the living room, his presence a silent comfort in the midst of the familial tension. you greeted them quietly, your heart heavy with the emotions that you had tried so hard to contain. your mother looked up as you entered the kitchen, her expression unreadable. “how’s work?” she asked, her tone neutral but carrying a hint of concern. “when do you have to go back?”

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “i’ll be going back after the month passes,” you replied, forcing a calmness that didn’t match the turmoil inside you. she nodded, but there was a shadow of disapproval in her eyes. “i prayed for your success, you know,” she said. “but i wish you had chosen a different path—one that’s more respectable. you could have been a doctor, a lawyer, someone who makes a real difference. instead, you’re just posing for a camera.”

the words struck you like a physical blow, each syllable a reminder of the gap between your aspirations and her expectations. your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, your heart aching with the weight of her judgment. “i’m sorry,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the apology feeling inadequate in the face of her disapproval. her gaze softened slightly, but the damage was done. the conversation had laid bare the fact that no matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you achieved, your mother’s acceptance was always just out of reach. the realization was a sharp, stinging reminder of the ongoing struggle to reconcile your dreams with her expectations.

without a word, you excused yourself from the room, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on your shoulders. you moved with a sense of urgency towards the bathroom, needing a moment away from the prying eyes and the crushing disappointment. in the bathroom, the cool, sterile light offered little comfort as you shut the door behind you. you leaned against the sink, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the tap, letting the water run until it became a soothing backdrop to your tears. the tears came freely now, each drop a release of the pain you had been holding inside. the harsh brightness of the bathroom seemed to amplify your emotions, every sob echoing in the stillness of the room.

you closed your eyes tightly, letting the tears flow unabated. the mirror reflected your tear-streaked face, the red-rimmed eyes a testament to the depth of your grief. you took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions that had been stirred up by your mother’s words. the tears were a release, a way of letting go of the pent-up frustration and sadness. as the sobs began to subside, you found solace in the simple act of crying, allowing yourself to feel the weight of your mother’s disapproval and the grief of your own unmet expectations. you knew that the moment of vulnerability was a necessary part of your healing process, a way to confront and process the emotions that had been building up inside you.

yoongi's heart felt heavy with the weight of the earlier conversation. his concern for you had deepened, and he felt an overwhelming urge to understand more about what you were going through. his feet, driven by a mix of worry and compassion, carried him towards your room. the door creaked open slowly, and yoongi stepped into the space that was so intimately yours. the room was bathed in a soft glow from a lamp on your nightstand, its light gently illuminating the walls adorned with photographs. his eyes were immediately drawn to the collection of images, a testament to the life you had lived.

photos of you as a little girl lined one wall, capturing moments of innocence and joy. in some, you were caught in candid laughter, a radiant smile lighting up your face. others showed you at milestones, each image a snapshot of a time before the complexities of adulthood began to weigh heavily on you. yoongi’s chest tightened at the sight, a pang of sorrow stirring in his stomach. it was impossible not to feel the ache of how much you had grown, how far you had come from that wide-eyed child full of dreams.

next to those nostalgic images were more recent photos—of you as you were now, your beauty more striking than ever, yet layered with an undeniable sadness. each photograph seemed to tell a story of its own, a reflection of the woman you had become. his heart ached at the contrast between the vibrant child in the old pictures and the poignant figure in the more recent ones. it was clear that beneath the surface of your radiant exterior lay a deep, unresolved pain.

his gaze was drawn to the desk, where he saw your journal resting atop a pile of neatly stacked papers. he hesitated for a moment, knowing it was a violation of your privacy, but the pull of his concern was stronger. with trembling hands, he opened the journal, its pages warm from the gentle light of the lamp.

the first entry his eyes fell upon was a stark revelation of your inner turmoil, “i want to die, doesn’t everyone?” the words were raw and haunting, a glimpse into the depths of your suffering. yoongi’s breath caught in his throat as he read on, his heart breaking with each line. you had written about sleepless nights, about the emptiness that came with a lack of meals, and the guilt you felt for your suffering despite having what many would envy. the words were a vivid portrait of your struggle, painting a picture of the pain you had carried alone.

further along, you wrote about your mother, your conflicted feelings towards her. despite her love, you had felt her disapproval, her preference for a different path for you. the way you described your feelings of inadequacy, the yearning for acceptance, cut deep into yoongi’s heart. each entry was a window into a world of quiet desperation, a reflection of your most private fears and regrets.

as his eyes scanned the entries, he felt a profound sadness. the weight of your words, the anguish you had poured onto the pages, seemed to press down on him with a crushing force. he was lost in the depth of your pain when he heard the softest of voices behind him. “it’s stupid, isn’t it?” he turned sharply to see you standing in the doorway, a sad smile on your face, the remnants of tears still visible on your cheeks. his heart ached even more seeing you like that, so vulnerable and exposed. he took a step towards you, his face reflecting a mix of anguish and determination.

“nothing you feel could ever be stupid,” he said gently, his voice laden with sincerity. his hand reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks with a tenderness that spoke volumes. “why didn’t you tell me about this? why didn’t you share any of this with me?” you shrugged, your gaze falling to the floor as if it held the answers you couldn’t articulate. “i always had a feeling i’d never live long,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

yoongi’s breath caught at your words. the notion that you felt such a finality in your existence was more than he could bear. without thinking, he closed the distance between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. the hug was a physical manifestation of his anguish and his need to offer you comfort. he stiffened as he held you, the weight of your words settling heavily on his shoulders. “never say that again,” he whispered fiercely into your ear, his voice trembling with emotion. “is that really what you want? to leave me alone, to fight it all in silence?”

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt as you cried into his shoulder. “i’d give anything to be the little girl you remember,” you admitted between sobs. “i miss her more than anyone.”

his heart broke at your admission. he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his own filled with an earnest intensity. “you should be proud of the woman you’ve become,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions within him. “that little girl would be so proud of you. and no one could be more proud than i am.”

you looked at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity, but all you found was a deep, unwavering conviction. “you really think so?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “yes,” he affirmed, his eyes locked onto yours with a warmth that seemed to dispel the shadows of doubt. “she would be proud, but nobody could be as proud as me. you’ve grown into someone incredible, someone who has faced so much and still stands strong.”

in that moment, wrapped in his embrace, you felt a sense of comfort and acceptance that had been elusive for so long. his words, filled with genuine admiration and affection, offered a glimmer of hope amid the lingering darkness. you clung to the promise in his voice, the promise that despite everything, you were valued, you were loved, and you were worthy of pride.

✧.*

a/n: a shorter one lol a dabble if u will

started convulsing in the middle of a bakery

at the police station rn how can i make this about nct