LMFAOO I CANNOT

LMFAOO I CANNOT 😭😭😭

You guys ( @emi-en @pockettwinzz @paralyzedparadiseonmytongue @alvojake @ja3yun @yeonzzzn ) are a perfect definition of PATHETIC bcoz, imagining enha members doing 18+ things and it's so weird. Why do u guys even write smuts? it's DISGUSTING okay? and wht will u feel when writing smuts? joy? happy? contented? wht will u get when u wrote it? NOTHING and u guys just freely asking for a SIN.

oh? it’s a sin? we feel nothing while writing smut? are you so sure?

because imagine church boy jake sitting beside you in the middle of service. his fingers are slowly tracing up and down your exposed thigh. each time his hand reaches the ends of your skirt his thumb stretches underneath it to slightly rub against your clothed cunt and biting at his lower lip at seeing you squirm out of the corner of his eyes. oh god did he wish he could bend you over this church pew bench and fuck you senseless. or having you on your knees in front of him, not to worship god, but to worship him with each movement of your mouth sliding up and down his cock until his cum was shooting down your throat.

you’d try to push his hand away but knowing you didn’t want him to actually stop because with each brush of your hand over his in attempt to move his hand only made him press his hand more towards your inner thigh and up higher and higher. rubbing his knuckles against your folds and feeling your slick coat his digits through your panties. “oh so wet for me baby, and in the middle of service? so so dirty for me.” he’d slip your panties to the side and push his fingers inside your tight pussy, reaching for your other hand and placing it on top of his clothed cock, squeezing the top of your hand which in turn had you squeezing him. you kept squeezing him in motion of his fingers fucking into you, slowly reaching your fingers up and unhooking his belt, his hand moving to help you unbutton his dress pants and zip them down, giving you the access to slide your hand right between his boxers to wrap your fingers completely around his dick.

jake quietly gasped at the feeling of your skin against his, slowly bucking his hips upwards to fuck himself in your hand. the both of you biting down onto your lips to suppress your moans and gasps from the other church goers from hearing. you’ve never been so happy to be in the last row of pews and in the far corner out of eyes reach. you squeezed his shaft tighter with each movement, spreading his precum with your thumb over the head each time you hit the top of of cock. jake pushed his fingers in knuckles deep in you, curling them up with every push, hitting your weak spot. both you and jake knew you wouldn’t last long. you clenched around his fingers and his cock twitched in your hold. both seeing stars as you both came together, making a mess in his nice church slacks and you soaking the cushions of the pew. god jake couldn’t wait until next sunday.

hope you enjoyed this anon <3 wrote it just for you pookie

Melting Point | MASTERLIST

hi! here is the masterlist for melting point! this is an 18+ fic so minors do not interact.

warnings: on individual chapters

overall wc: 130k+

synopsis: when circumstances unexpectedly bring you and your brother's long-time ice skating rival, park sunghoon, together, you discover a surprising connection. However, your brother forbids any relationship between you. Will you heed his advice or follow your heart?

START CH.1; here CH.2; here CH.3; here CH.4; here CH.5; here CH.6; here CH.7; here CH.8; here CH.9; here FIN

---

Verified Palestinian gofundme’s Masterlist

Rightfully so, I have gotten messages worrying if everything I post is legit (I try my best to make sure the answer is yes), but here’s a masterlist of ones that one or more people have confirmed are legit Palestinians. Most are from the blogs @el-shab-hussein, @ibtisams, @palestinecharitycommissionsassoc ,@90-ghost, @nabulsi and @palipunk

I will also be making individual posts for most of these

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⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ FORBIDDEN ATTRACTION ┊ LEE HEESEUNG

“are you sure you want to play with me?” 🥀 part of the forbidden attraction series 🥀 gryffindor!heeseung

also read . . . sunghoon┊jake┊jay

SUMMARY┊if anyone was more popular than you at hogwarts, that person had to be lee heeseung – the young quidditch prodigy who has every girl at his feet and every boy following him like his puppies.

and it doesn’t help that he’s so full of himself – a true gryffindor. especially since he’s so sure that he will win you over, no matter what. and you’re not blind, you can see how attractive he is. and perhaps you should feel honoured that he wants no one but you.

but should you give in so easily? or play with him your own way?

WARNINGS ┊SMUT! hard smut such as: strip tease, switch!heeseung but more dom!heeseung, extreme dirty talk, praise kink as well as degrading kink, oral sex ( f & m ), face sitting, thigh grinding, rough sex, unprotected sex, missionary, doggy style, mirror sex?, spanking, possessive!heeseung, orgasm control. // mention of jake and reader hooking up. mention of hoon and reader hooking up. slut shaming. sloooow burn. mean!jay. alcohol consumption. sunoo gets drunk lol. language. heeseung is morally questionable but he redeems himself i swear 🤞🏻 fighting, a bit of violence, some plot twists ;) HEESEUNG IS DOWN BAAAAAAAD

AUTHOR’S NOTE ┊guess who went through a writer’s block? that’s why it took me so long to publish this chapter. BUT this is the longest piece of writing i’ve ever made, like CRAZY LONG. i hope you enjoy it ! :)

Winter settles upon Hogwarts like a heavy cloak, wrapping the ancient castle and its grounds in a blanket of stillness and cold.

Outside, the gardens lie dormant beneath a layer of frost, their once-vibrant colors muted by the icy touch of winter. The Black Lake freezes over, its surface shimmering with a layer of delicate ice that glitters in the pale sunlight of the early afternoon.

But despite the cold and the darkness, there is a beauty to winter at Hogwarts that cannot be denied. The castle takes on a magical quality, its ancient towers and turrets outlined against the stark winter sky like something out of a fairy tale. It's quite peaceful, you have to admit.

And even if the days appear dull, life is still moving fast inside the walls of the castle.

Only its vast courtyards and gardens exude peace and tranquility, silence pervades each and every one of their spaces.

All but one.

The Quidditch pitch.

Here, the silence is broken by the sounds of what seems a never-ending practice. The Gryffindor team, unfazed by the lingering chill, soars through the air, their crimson robes billowing behind them.

Spectators, bundled in warm cloaks and scarves, sit in the stands, cheering for their friends with fervor. Their breath forms clouds in the cold air, but their enthusiasm never lessens – and neither does yours.

You weren’t familiar with the magical world of Quidditch, but the sheer dedication and teamwork the various players display on the pitch inspire you. And surely you can’t be the only one who‘s always left in awe whenever they play – their abilities are only but admirable.

“Who had the brilliant idea to play this stupid game in the middle of winter?”

Sunoo’s voice cuts through your thoughts, tinged with mock frustration as he wraps his scarf tighter around his neck.

“Sunoo…” you call his name, sighing at the sound of his annoyance – but of course, he wouldn’t be the best friend you so love if he didn’t complain about… anything, really.

An amused chuckle beside you interrupts your scolding, making your head turn to look at the Hufflepuff sitting next to you – it’s not rare nowadays that you get to spend most of your afternoons with Jake Sim, and today is no different.

“C’mon, give him a break. After all, it was strange that he hadn’t complained about something yet.” He smirks, meeting your gaze in a playful manner. “I’m not surprised Quidditch isn’t to his liking.”

Sunoo shoots him an almost offended gaze, pouting slightly as he eyes at the two of you. “I’m just saying, there are warmer ways to show school spirit.”

The yellow scarf around his neck almost hides Jake’s playful grin, while he shrugs off at Sunoo’s words. “True, but where’s the fun in that?”

You can’t help but shake your head, giggles escaping your lips at their banter; it almost surprises you how quickly the two of them became close. While Sunoo is more cunning and malicious, Jake walks around him as if he’s his gentle reminder to be less harsh and more kind.

Jake’s laughter gets interrupted by a chill running down his spine, the cold getting the best of him as you and Sunoo eye each other playfully.

“You were saying?” Sunoo chips with a smirk on his face.

Jake rolls his eyes at his words. “I never said I wasn’t cold,” he remarks, rubbing his hands together. “I’m fucking freezing, actually.”

You laugh at his words, noticing his reddening cheeks as he tries to warm himself, curling up slightly.

“Why did you come here, then?” you ask, your tone light and teasing, your breath visible in the crisp air.

Jake gives you a knowing smile, his eyes briefly flicking toward the Gryffindor Quidditch team still hard at practice. “You know why,” he replies, his gaze settling on the players.

You follow his gaze, taking in the sight in front of you; the beaters swing their bats with precision, sending Bludgers whizzing through the air, while Chasers pass the Quaffle with swift accuracy. The Keeper’s eyes are sharp, scanning the overcast sky for any upcoming ball.

Everyone’s eyes, however, as well as their excitement, is solely directed on one particular person.

You focus on his movements, barely able to keep up with him as he dives expertly to intercept a Quaffle, swerving to avoid a Bludger before passing the ball to a teammate with unerring accuracy.

His presence is magnetic, drawing all attention as he moves around with a blend of grace and power. You’ve never seen a captain so devoted, his shouts of encouragement to his team are both authoritative and supportive.

Everyone gasps in amusement as he unexpectedly executes a flawless loop, catching the Quaffle in mid-air and flashing a triumphant grin at the spectators.

The action itself almost makes your eyes roll. However, you can’t deny your intrigue at his abilities. It’s evident he loves the attention, basking in the admiration of the crowd, eyes wandering around the pitch while gracing everyone with one of his charming smiles.

But in all honesty, it’s nothing new for you.

Lee Heeseung, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, has always had a natural talent to make everything about him – and theatrically so. Tall and athletic, with a mop of dark hair that’s always perfectly tousled, he exudes confidence both on and off the pitch.

You watch him as his piercing eyes, full of mischief and determination, scan the stands as if to ensure every single person has acknowledged his latest feat until, for a brief moment, his gaze locks on you. There’s a flicker of recognition, and his confident grin widens into a teasing smirk. It’s a small, almost imperceptible shift, but you catch it, and for some reason it sends a thrill through you.

Although you blame the cold for your… unusual reaction.

“Ah, so it’s for the captain,” Sunoo’s voice awakens you once again as you meet his gaze, noticing his sparkling eyes set on the Hufflepuff next to you. “I didn’t take you for a fan.”

Jake chuckles, his breath puffing out in a cloud. “He’s my best friend, he’d never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t come to the last practise before the big game.”

“Still,” you barge in, your eyes wandering around you as you take in the large number of students gathered in the stands. “That doesn’t explain all this fuss for a simple practise.”

Your words catch the attention of a few girls standing behind you, whose harsh looks are enough to cut you deeper than a knife.

“Y/N, you know damn well,” Sunoo’s response hits you, his choice of words making Jake fight a chuckle. “It’s Heeseung we’re talking about. He’s practically a celebrity around here.”

Jake nods in agreement. “He’s got this way of making even the most muggle thing seem extraordinary. Plus, everyone wants a glimpse of what he’s planning for the big game.”

You can’t help but huff in annoyance, although you admit to yourself how greatly Heeseung thrives under pressure, always looking for an opportunity to showcase his talent and impress the crowd. “He does have a flair for the dramatic.”

Sunoo snorts. “A flair? That’s an understatement. He loves the spotlight more than anyone I’ve ever seen. Even more than you.”

You nod absentmindedly as your friend nudges at you, your gaze drifting back to Heeseung as he effortlessly commands the pitch. It’s hard to deny his magnetic presence, even if you’ve never quite warmed up to him.

Heeseung’s reputation as a popular heartthrob precedes him – he’s known for his charm and his string of fleeting romantic encounters, although romantic is not the word you’d use. You’ve seen the way he interacts with others, always with that same confident smirk and twinkle in his eyes and it almost irritated you how easily he got away with anything thanks to his charisma.

And how easily everyone fell on their knees for him.

Despite that, you can’t help but be captivated by him. There’s something intoxicating about the way he moves, the way he carries himself with such self-assuredness.

And you’re not foreign to his constant, endless ways to catch your attention whenever he can – Heeseung might be the Quidditch star and Gryffindor’s golden boy, but your presence commands just as much attention.

You’ve always been the center of admiration, not just for your looks but for your intelligence, charm, and effortless charisma. Every hallway you walk down, every class you attend, eyes follow you, whispers trailing behind.

Your popularity isn’t just a badge; it’s a crown. And Heeseung, despite his status, is acutely aware of it. He craves your attention, your acknowledgment, because in the world of Hogwarts, having your favor is akin to holding the highest honor.

And the fact that your impeccable reputation has not yet been damaged fascinates him even more.

You’ve noticed the way his eyes linger on you whenever you walk past him, the way he seems to go out of his way to catch your attention. It could be a simple action – an innocent yet precise bump on your shoulder – or even a few teasing words, and yet you never give him the satisfaction of being totally perceived by you. As if you’re completely unphased by his presence.

It’s almost amusing how transparent his attempts are, yet you continue to play along by feigning indifference.

The truth is you enjoy the thrill of it – the unspoken game between you two. Because he might not know, but it is a game for you, indeed. The way he tries to impress you, the subtle glances he shoots your way, the extra flair in his movements whenever he knows you’re watching – it’s all part of the dance you both partake in, though you always make sure to keep the upper hand.

The main difference is that Heeseung is almost desperate for your attention, always going the extra mile to draw you in, yet you maintain a cool detachment. It’s amusing, really, how the Gryffindor captain, adored by so many, is continually seeking your validation.

“And why did you come here?” Jake’s words surprise you, his teasing tone hitting you playfully as Sunoo adds himself to the conversation.

“Yeah, enlighten us,” Sunoo’s tone is sneakier than Jake’s. “Since you dragged me here and made me go through this torture.”

You smirk, glancing between the two of them. “Just because,” you say lightly, shrugging your shoulders.

Sunoo raises an eyebrow, a knowing look in his eyes. “Uh-huh. Just because?”

You shrug at his words, both your silence and the small smirk plastered on your face adding fuel to Sunoo and Jake’s curiosity. Your eyes wander back to the game in front of you, gaze searching for one person only.

But it doesn’t take long as you’re immediately met with an impeding figure flying on his broom, eyes boring into yours as he cheekily smiles when he notices your eyes set on him. Again.

Heeseung hovers for a moment, his eyes locked on yours, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. He executes a sharp turn, showing off with a graceful dive that has a bunch of girls gasping and cheering. He loops back up effortlessly, making his way toward your section of the stands.

Suddenly, a Bludger comes out of nowhere, narrowly missing his head. Heeseung reacts with lightning speed, dodging the flying ball and catching it with one hand, his reflexes impressive.

“Watch out, Captain!” One of his teammates, whose name you recall being Soobin, shouts from across the pitch.

Heeseung laughs, tossing the Bludger back into play with a casual flick of his wrist. “Yeah, thanks for the warning,” he calls back, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Show-off,” you mutter under your breath, though you can’t help but be impressed. He really is good.

Jake doesn’t seem to hear your huffed words as his voice gets tinted with concern. “He seems distracted,” he remarks.

Sunoo, who’s been quiet for the past few minutes (a challenge, you’d say), sends you a knowing look, smirking to himself as he notices a barely visible twinkle in your eyes as you look at the Gryffindor. He’d recognise that gaze everywhere – the one that’s hiding something intriguing.

And suddenly, something clicks in his brain.

That maybe, just maybe, this isn’t the first time he caught Lee Heeseung getting distracted by none other than you.

TWO DAYS BEFORE

The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade was a haven of warmth and cheer amidst the winter chill.

The pub is bustling with students, their faces flushed from the cold, now glowing in the flickering light of the fireplace. The walls are adorned with old Quidditch memorabilia, enchanted paintings, and posters of past Hogsmeade events, giving the place a lived-in, timeless charm.

Students from all houses mingle, their rivalries set aside in the friendly, festive environment of the pub – everyone likes to find a lame excuse to have fun during the cold, endless winter at Hogwarts.

In one corner, a group of third-years are trying (and failing) to get the attention of Madam Rosmerta, while in another, a couple of seventh-years are deep in a serious discussion, likely about the upcoming exams.

However, it’s useless to say that everyone’s attention is solely set towards a large table near the center of the pub, where the Gryffindor Quidditch team is gathered.

Their animated chatter and bursts of laughter add liveliness to the loud ambiance. The various teammates are happily chatting, discussing their recent practice and strategies for the upcoming match, their faces alight with excitement.

And of course, the Captain himself sits among them, his easy confidence and charm making him the natural center of attention.

Differently from his teammates – busy coming up with new game strategies – his attention is focused on a girl sitting beside him, a Ravenclaw with bright eyes and an evident interest in the Gryffindor captain. He leans in close, his voice low and smooth as he speaks to her, clearly enjoying the way she hangs on his every word. His hand rests casually on the back of her chair, his posture relaxed and confident.

Heeseung’s flirtation is blatant, his laughter ringing out at her every comment, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He’s in his element, basking in the attention and admiration that always seems to follow him.

The girl giggles at something he says, her cheeks flushing with delight, and he grins, clearly pleased with himself.

She listen in amusement while she takes a bite of her chocolate frog, and a smudge of chocolate appears on her lips. Heeseung notices immediately, his smile turning playful. “You’ve got something right here,” he says, gesturing to his own lips.

She raises a hand to wipe it off, but Heeseung catches her wrist gently. “Let me,” he offers, his tone warm and teasing. He leans in temptingly, bring in his thumb to her lower lip, carefully wiping the chocolate away, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.

The girl’s breath catches, her cheeks flushing deeper as she looks up at him. “Uh… thanks,” she murmurs, her eyes wide with admiration.

Heeseung’s smile turns into a satisfied smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he has on her. “Anytime,” he replies smoothly. “It’s the least I can do for such a pretty girl.”

As he leans back, he makes sure to maintain eye contact, his expression a mix of charm and confidence. The girl’s eyes never leave his, clearly captivated by his antics.

The interaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the other students, but Heeseung seems completely at ease, and it’s clear that he’s enjoying every moment of the evening.

That is, until you walk in.

The door to the Three Broomsticks swings open, letting in a gust of cold air as you and Sunoo step inside. The warmth of the pub envelops you, and the buzz of conversations momentarily quiets as several heads turn to acknowledge your arrival. It’s impossible to ignore the shift in the atmosphere – your presence always commands attention.

Sunoo, being his extrovert self, waves cheerfully at a group of students nearby before guiding you towards an empty table. You follow, offering polite nods and smiles to those who greet you. Your eyes, however, can’t help but flicker towards the center of the room where Heeseung sits – it’s impossible not to when the Gryffindor Quidditch team continues to get louder and louder.

Heeseung’s gaze locks onto you the moment you enter, his easy confidence faltering for just a second. The playful smirk he had been directing at the Ravenclaw girl fades slightly as he watches you make your way through the crowd. His eyes linger on you, taking in every detail; the way you brush a few snowflakes from your cloak, the light in your eyes as you smile at a passing friend.

He’s totally smitten by your presence only.

And that doesn’t go unnoticed by the girl next to him.

She frowns slightly, her earlier delight fading as she senses the shift in Heeseung’s attention. She turns back to him, trying to regain his focus. “Heeseung,” she says, her voice soft but insistent. “You were telling me about that last Quidditch match…”

Heeseung blinks, momentarily brought back to the present. “Oh, right,” he replies, but his usual smoothness is gone. He starts to recount the details, but his eyes keep drifting back to you, his words trailing off more than once.

You and Sunoo settle into your seats, the warm ambiance of the pub enveloping you both. Sunoo scans the room, a bored expression pictured on his candid face.

“Absolute waste of time coming here,” Sunoo mutters, crossing his arms, and you can’t help but slap his arm playfully. “Seriously, there’s nothing to dooooo.”

You laugh, knowing exactly what he’s trying to say. “Don’t you remember the last time we came here and you almost choked on your third Butterbeer ‘cause you were too wasted to drink normally?” Your question comes off as a teasing. “I certainly do, so behave for today.”

Sunoo rolls his eyes, a playful grin on his face. “That was Jake’s fault! He kept daring me to drink more.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “But you didn’t have to take every dare.”

Sunoo sighs dramatically, leaning back on his chair.

“Although technically that was Heeseung’s fault.”

You give him a confused gaze, before it clicks. Truthfully, it was Jake who convinced you and Sunoo to drink Butterbeer instead of your usual hot chocolate, but only because he was influenced by Heeseung himself.

It was during one of those rare Hogsmeade weekends when the whole group had decided to relax. You, Jake, Sunoo and a few others had gathered at the Three Broomsticks.

It started when Jake noticed Heeseung at the bar with a mug of Butterbeer in hand. He, with his ever-present smirk, had gestured the Hufflepuff over, challenging him to keep up with his drinking. And surprisingly Jake turned out to be one the never backs down from a challenge, and he ended dragging you and Sunoo, insisting that you all drink.

And that’s how you found yourselves at the bar, clinking mugs of Butterbeer, the sweet, frothy beverage going down smoother than you expected. It didn’t take long for the effects to kick in, the world around you becoming a little more vibrant, your laughter a little louder, and your movements a little less coordinated.

Sunoo had been the first to feel the full effects, nearly falling off his stool after his first mug. Jake wasn’t far behind, his face flushed and his words slurred as he tried to keep up with his best friend. And then there was Heeseung, who seemed to handle his drink with ease, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched the rest of you struggle.

It was his fault indeed.

And here you are now, a week later with a wave of nausea haunting you everytime you remember the intake of alcohol you consumed in one evening.

“Speaking of which.” Sunoo breaks the silence, mischief evident in his gaze as he looks over to the Gryffindor Quidditch team table. “Looks like someone can’t take his eyes off you.”

You follow Sunoo’s gaze and catch none other than Heeseung staring in your direction. The second he notices you looking back, he quickly diverts his attention, but not before you see a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Typical,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, although you fight off a smirk as you watch him tense in his spot, feeling your gaze on him.

Sunoo snickers. “He’s so obvious. It’s almost painful to watch.”

You glance over at Heeseung, who quickly looks away, pretending to be engrossed in his conversation. You can’t help but smirk, enjoying the game more than you’d care to admit. “Let him stare,” you say nonchalantly, though your eyes flicker back to him, betraying a hint of curiosity.

Sunoo hums at your words, soon noticing the playful glint in your eyes. “You know he’s just waiting for a chance to make his move, right?”

You nod at his words, shrugging it off as you meet your friend’s gaze in a sneaky manner. “Don’t know. He seems pretty busy to me.”

You smirk, glancing over at Heeseung who, despite his apparent interest in the conversation with the girl next to him, keeps sneaking glances your way.

“He’s not very subtle, though. Seems like he wants you to notice.” Sunoo laughs, clearly enjoying the game in front of him. “But again, when is he not trying to catch your attention?”

Sunoo’s right; ever since your first year at Hogwarts, you’ve been the main source of entertainment for Lee Heeseung. The endless pranks, the not-so-subtle attempts to get your attention, and the playful banter that always seemed to follow wherever you went. Despite his cocky demeanor and penchant for showing off, you had to admit he brought a certain excitement to your dull school days.

And today is not different, as you anticipate for any of his usual moves on you.

That, before your attention drifts away to Sunoo’s sudden raise of voice.

“Alright, I’m getting bored. Come with me.”

Sunoo grabs your arm and starts to drag you toward the bar stools, but you resist slightly, hitting him with a playful pout.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns, before tugging at your arm once again. “We need to drink, now. It’s either that or I’ll have to watch the Gryffindor captain drool after you.”

You chuckle at Sunoo’s dramatics, shaking your head in amusement. “Alright, alright,” you reply, allowing him to guide you towards the bar.

As you approach the counter, you can’t help but steal a glance towards the Gryffindor table. Heeseung’s charismatic presence is hard to miss, his laughter and playful demeanor drawing attention from all around.

His gaze, however, lingers on you as you walk past his table, his eyes following your every move with an unmistakable intensity. There’s a playful smirk tugging at his lips, his expression filled with a mix of admiration and amusement. He doesn’t even attempt to conceal his blatant staring, his boldness only adding to the intrigue of the moment.

As you pass by, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, sending a shiver down your spine despite yourself. It’s not the first time Heeseung has openly admired you, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that never fails to send a thrill through your veins.

Sunoo notices the exchange and lets out an amused chuckle, nudging you playfully. “If he wasn’t hot he’d be a loser,” he teases, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You shush him quickly, giggling at his words as you arrive at the bar stool. “What? Only a loser wants a girl for so long without getting noticed.”

You roll your eyes at his remark, but there’s a hint of satisfaction in your smile as you sit down.

Although, Sunoo is not exactly right in this case – because despite your coldness and indifference, you can’t help but enjoy the way he longs after you. And a part of you feels genuinely surprised about the fact that he had never gave up on you.

You and Sunoo order your drinks, engaging in lively conversation while waiting for them, the cozy ambiance of the pub enveloping you.

However, the tranquility of the moment is abruptly shattered by the arrival of a group of Slytherins, led by none other than Park Jongseong. Or Jay, as he’s mostly known as.

The atmosphere shifts as Jay and his friends approach the bar, their presence casting a shadow over your conversation with Sunoo. You can feel the tension in the air thickening, a sense of unease settling over you as Jay’s eyes lock onto yours with a predatory glint.

Suddenly – right when Madam Rosmerta hands you one Butterbeer – Jay deliberately bumps into your shoulder, the glass dangerously shaking your hand as a few drops fall on your uniform.

His smirk widens into a smug grin as he looks down at you. “Watch where you’re going, princess,” Jay sneers, his voice dripping with contempt; you lost count on how many times you had to hear these very same words whenever you encountered him.

Your jaw clenches at his taunting tone, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you hold his gaze, your eyes blazing with silent challenge.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same to you,” you retort, your tone icy. “What is it? You can’t walk straight now?”

Sunoo shoots you a warning glance, sensing the brewing irritation between you and Jay. “Don’t start anything, Y/N,” he murmurs, attempting to diffuse the tension.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down. You know he’s right – it’s not worth getting into a discussion with Jay, especially not here in the pub.

But as you turn away from Jay, you catch a glimpse of Heeseung out of the corner of your eye. Despite being surrounded by his friends at the Gryffindor table, his attention seems fixated on you and Jay’s interaction. His usual confident demeanor is replaced by a subtle furrow of his brow, a flicker of concern crossing his features.

Jay seems unfazed by Sunoo’s warning, his smirk growing more evident as he leans in closer, his gaze challenging. “Still as feisty as ever, I see. Shame your attitude doesn’t match your looks.”

Sunoo gasps in disbelief, his eyes widening with shock at the audacity of Jay’s insult towards you. But before you can react, a sudden movement catches your attention.

Heeseung – whose attention is solely drifted to you – rises from his seat and excuses himself with a casual wave to his friends. The girl next to him is left eyed-widened, staring as he walks towards the bar stool.

His confident strides carry him across the crowded pub floor, his gaze fixed on you and Jay.

With calculated precision, Heeseung maneuvers through the throng of students until he’s standing directly behind Jay. He bumps into his shoulder, causing him to stumble forward and collide with you. The impact sends your drink soaring through the air, its contents splattering across Jay’s pristine uniform.

“Shit– sorry man,” he says, his tone dripping with insincerity as he glances Jay’s drenched uniform. “You alright?”

“What the fuck?” Jay’s eyes narrow in suspicion as he wipes the Butterbeer from his face, his expression darkening with each passing moment. “Do you think this is funny, Heeseung?” he snarls, his voice laced with venom.

Heeseung shrugs casually, his smirk widening into a grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies innocently, though the mischief in his eyes betrays his true intentions.

Sunoo chuckles beside you, thoroughly entertained by the exchange. You, on the other hand, are left utterly surprised.

Jay shoots you and Heeseung a glare, his expression a mix of anger and shame. “This isn’t over,” he mutters under his breath before turning on his heel and storming out of the pub, his entourage of Slytherins trailing behind him.

As soon as the door closes behind Jay, Sunoo bursts into laughter, the sound infectious. “And I thought I was the dramatic one,” he says between laughs, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

You join Sunoo into a fit of giggles while Heeseung, still standing beside you, lets out a small chuckle, clearly amused by the whole situation.

“Guess I saved your drink,” he says, leaning in slightly. “What would you do without me?”

You give him a sidelong glance, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Don’t get too full of yourself,” you retort, though your tone lacks any real bite.

Heeseung’s smirk widens. “Too late for that,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Besides, you know you enjoyed the show.”

“Mhm, sure,” you reply, and despite your indifferent tone there’s still a hint of amusement. You take a sip of your Butterbeer, letting the warmth spread through you as you pretend to be unfazed.

Heeseung leans in closer, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “Come on, admit it. You loved every second.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “If it keeps Jay off my back, then maybe.”

Sunoo watches the exchange with keen interest, his own smirk forming. “Why did you come here, exactly?” he teases Heeseung, tone playful.

“To order a drink,” Heeseung shrugs although his smirk never falters. “And to rescue a pretty girl in distress, of course,” he quips, his eyes flicking to you with a teasing glint.

You roll your eyes at his response. “I hardly think I was in distress,” you retort, though there’s a hint of amusement in your voice.

Sunoo chuckles, clearly entertained by the banter. “I figured,” he says, shaking his head. “But I guess I should thank you, Heeseung. You did save us from Jay picking on us as his usual.”

Heeseung shrugs nonchalantly, though there’s a smug satisfaction in his expression. His eyes are still on your figure, head tilting as he waits for you to thank him as well.

You catch his expectant gaze and roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Don’t hold your breath,” you say dryly. “And don’t pretend you don’t like putting your nose in things that don’t revolve around you.”

It takes a few seconds before you notice the slight change of demeanour in Heeseung – almost as if your words took him aback, if not even embarrassed him.

But then, he leans in slightly, his smirk widening. “Oh, come on. I think I deserve at least a thank you for saving you from Jay’s charming company,” he teases, gaining back his confidence.

Sunoo snickers beside you, nudging you with his elbow. “He’s got a point, you know,” he says, adding fuel to the fire.

You sigh dramatically, turning to face Heeseung fully. “Alright, fine. Thank you, Heeseung, for your valiant rescue,” you say, your tone tinted with sarcasm.

Heeseung grins triumphantly, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “Anytime, pretty,” he replies, giving you a mock bow that earns a laugh from Sunoo.

A loud whistle interrupts your moment, a teammate of Heeseung calling his name short after as he catches his attention. Despite not wanting to – deliberately ignoring his friends’ calls – he excuses himself to return to his table, but not before giving you one last teasing look.

“Try not to get into too much trouble without me,” he quips, earning another eye roll from you.

“Don’t worry, I think I’ll manage,” you retort, watching as he saunters back to his friends.

Turns out you couldn’t manage at all.

An hour later, in fact, you find Sunoo leaning heavily against you, his laughter slurred and his steps unsteady. “I told you… the Ravenclaw prefect is toooootally into you,” he slurs, giggling uncontrollably.

“Sunoo, shush,” you hiss, struggling to keep him upright. “You’re being loud. And I told you many times already, Sunghoon and I are just friends.”

Sunoo snickers, leaning more heavily against you. “Friends who make passionate loooove.”

You clamp a hand over his mouth, eyes darting around to make sure no one else is listening. “It’s called sex, Sunoo. Nothing more.”

He giggles against your palm, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Still, sounds like you’re in denial–”

You sigh as he hiccups, trying to keep him upright as you push both of your bodies around the crowded pub. “Alright, I need to get you back to Hogwarts before a teacher catches us,” you mutter, glancing around to ensure no one is watching too closely.

Getting Sunoo out of the pub and into the chilly evening air is no small feat. He stumbles along beside you, his weight making it difficult to maintain a steady pace. The cold breeze makes it harder for you to move as swiftly as you intend to, but as you’re about to give up and sit him down on the snow to catch your breath, a familiar voice calls out.

“Need some help there?”

You turn to see Heeseung approaching, a knowing smirk on his face. “What did he drink? The whole barrel?” he jokes, assessing Sunoo’s state.

“Basically,” you respond, not being able to suppress a laughter as you shrug slightly, trying to catch your breath.

Heeseung steps in, easily taking Sunoo’s other arm and lifting some of the weight off you. “Alright, let’s get him back to the castle before Filch decides to do a surprise patrol.”

“Wait,” you stop him, his eyes darting to you as he’s left puzzled. “What about your teammates?”

Heeseung glances back towards the direction of the pub, not a hint of hesitation crossing his face. “They’ll manage without me for a while,” he replies with a shrug. “Besides, they’ve probably already found new distractions.”

“You seemed rather distracted as well,” you find yourself saying, although you realize you sound as if you’ve actually payed attention to what he was doing.

Heeseung raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Oh? So you were watching me?”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat at his tone. “I just happened to notice, that’s all.”

“Yeah? And what else did you notice?” You can’t help but catch the teasing in his tone, his voice somehow sounding steadier than yours despite holding Sunoo with his weight.

“That you diverted your attention from that girl to… something else, perhaps?” you say, trying to keep your voice light despite the underlying curiosity.

Heeseung chuckles softly, adjusting his grip on Sunoo who seemed to have fallen into a slumber. “Maybe I was just keeping an eye on certain people. Making sure they didn’t get into too much trouble.”

You scoff, giving him a sideways glance. “Right. Like you were really worried about anyone but yourself.”

He shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Believe it or not, I do care about more than just myself sometimes.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both walk side by side, the cool night air wrapping around you.

You ponder about your words, a twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience. Despite your usual banter with Heeseung, you can’t shake the feeling that perhaps you’ve been too harsh this time.

You steal a glance at him, noting the playful glint in his eyes that you’ve come to know so well. But beneath the facade, there’s something else, something softer, that you can’t quite place.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, breaking the silence between you. “I didn’t mean to come off as… dismissive.”

Heeseung’s playful expression softens, replaced by a more contemplative look. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he responds, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

His understanding catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re struck by the sincerity in his words. Despite your usual banter and occasional clashes, there’s a depth to Heeseung that you hadn’t fully appreciated before.

As you meet his gaze, you notice a softness in his eyes, a genuine warmth that betrays his usual cocky demeanor. There’s something tender in the way he looks at you, as if he sees beyond the facade you both often put up.

His gaze on you is intense, unwavering, but then, unexpectedly, Heeseung breaks the eye contact, his usual confidence momentarily faltering.

You blink, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor. It’s as if the vulnerability he briefly revealed was too much for him to bear, and he retreats back behind the mask of his usual cockiness.

“Although I would have done anything to make a fool out of Jay Park.” He breaks the silence with a chuckle, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “His Slytherin ass needs to learn a lesson.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes. “Jay’s not the type to let things slide. He’ll definitely get back at us. But I have a feeling he’ll end up annoying me even more.”

Heeseung raises his eyebrow, a smirk plastered on his lips. “Don’t worry. When he does, I’ll be there to rescue you again. Knight in shining armor and all that shit.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You wish.”

“Oh, I don’t need to wish.” His grin widens as he sends you a knowing look, eyes locked into yours as his gaze shifts slightly. “I’ll be there, trust me.”

His words hang in the air, carrying a weight of assurance that surprises you. It’s not just the promise of being there for you in moments of need, but the underlying implication that he’s always been there, somehow, even when you hadn’t realized it.

You can’t help but reflect on the countless times Heeseung has crossed paths with you. Despite not being close friends, there’s an undeniable pattern to your interactions – a subtle dance of coincidences that always seems to bring you together.

It’s as if Heeseung has a natural talent at being in the right place at the right time, always ready with a casual remark or a teasing smile that draws you in, despite your best efforts to maintain your distance.

And now, as you stand in the quiet of the night, you wonder if everything is just a mere coincidence or perhaps something more.

Suddenly, you hear Sunoo mumble something, his words barely coherent as he shifts against your side. You and Heeseung exchange amused glances, trying to stifle your laughter.

“He’s going to have a rough morning,” Heeseung comments with a smirk, shaking his head in amusement.

After a long walk from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, you manage to enter the castle undisturbed, remaining on guard in case any of your teachers or prefects find you wondering around with a heavily drunk Sunoo.

Finally you and Heeseung arrive in front of the Slytherin common room, carefully supporting Sunoo’s weight between you.

Silence fills the deserted corridor as you exchange a glance with Heeseung, until you hear footsteps echo down the hallway, and your eyes widen as you see Lee Minho, the Slytherin prefect, rounding the corner.

He stops in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at the sight before him. “What are you two doing here?” he demands, clearly annoyed.

Heeseung steps forward, his tone confident. “We found Sunoo like this,” he lies smoothly, gesturing to Sunoo’s slumbering form. “Thought it best to bring him back before he gets into any trouble.”

Minho eyes you both warily, his annoyance evident. “Captain, what a surprise,” he says dryly, his gaze shifting from you to Heeseung. “This is becoming a habit, isn’t it?”

Heeseung offers a casual grin. “Come on, Minho, just helping out a friend.”

The Prefect sighs, but after a moment’s consideration, he mutters the password to the common room. The door appears magically in front of you, revealing the dimly lit interior.

“Fine,” Minho grumbles, stepping aside to let you pass,“But next time, try not to make it a habit of bringing your drunken friends to the common room. It’s not my job to babysit.”

“Whoever said it was your job?” you retort, annoyed by Minho’s dismissive behavior.

Minho’s eyes narrow slightly, but then a flicker of recognition passes over his face. “Mhm, Y/N,” he says, his tone slightly more endearing now. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Heeseung cuts in before Minho can respond, his tone light yet firm. “Just help us get Sunoo to his dorm, Minho. We all need to get back before we get caught out here.”

Minho lets out a sigh, clearly annoyed but willing to comply. “Fine. But don’t make this a habit,” he mutters, casting one last look at Sunoo before turning to lead the way.

As you follow Minho, you arrive to the main room – thankfully not as full as you feared – wasting no time in placing Sunoo onto a nearby sofa, ensuring he’s comfortable.

You stretch your arms, feeling the strain. “I forgot how heavy he is to carry around.” You try to ease the tension, making Heeseung laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

To your surprise, Sunoo stirs. “I heard you,” he mumbles, his eyes remaining closed, but there’s a faint, amused smile on his lips.

You and Heeseung exchange a startled glance before bursting into laughter. “Looks like he’s more awake than we thought,” Heeseung says, still chuckling.

“Wait– Lee Heeseung?!” Sunoo’s high pitched tone echoes in the empty room, one of his eyes opening comically as he scans the Gryffindor in front of him.

Heeseung’s smirk widens as he looks down at Sunoo, clearly amused by his reaction. “Yeah, that’s me,” he replies, his tone teasing.

Sunoo blinks slowly, trying to process the information. “Wow, why are you he-here?,” he slurs slightly, a lopsided grin forming on his face.

His eyes move towards you, eyes shooting open as his gaze falls back and forth between the two of you; you barely noticed the proximity of your bodies, but – despite his drunken state – Sunoo catches it immediately.

His eyes glare at you in mock realization, a mischievous glint appearing in them. “Oh, I get it,” he says, his words slurred. “You’re here to sweep Y/N off her feet, right?”

“Sunoo, shut your–” You don’t finish the phrase, a loud sigh escaping your lips as you wonder what have you done wrong to find yourself in a situation such as this.

Heeseung, however, just laughs, his smirk growing wider. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he teases, his gaze flickering to you briefly before returning to Sunoo.

“Whatever,” Sunoo shrugs, giving you a cheeky smile before speaking again, “everyone knows you’re obsessed with her.”

You widen your eyes at Sunoo’s blunt words, shooting him a warning look. But Heeseung just laughs, unfazed by the accusation. “I prefer the term ‘admire,’” he quips, his tone light.

At Heeseung’s response, a sense of surprise washes over you. His nonchalant demeanor catches you off guard, but there’s also a hint of something else – a flicker of curiosity perhaps, at his unexpected confession.

He notices your surprised expression, sending you a playful smile, and you barely manage to mask the slight flutter in your stomach at his action.

Sunoo chuckles, leaning back against the sofa with a satisfied grin. “Sure, sure. Admire, obsess… abracadabra, avada kedavra.”

You and Heeseung immediately fall into a fit of shush’s, covering his mouth as he shamelessly giggles out loud. The two of you, however, can’t contain your laughters as you try to stop him, eyes locking into each other’s as you enjoy the moment.

Heeseung then lifts Sunoo from the sofa, and you realise only now how strong he actually is. “Come on, let’s get you to bed before you start casting spells,” he says with a playful smirk.

Sunoo nods, his eyes already drooping closed again. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, his words slurred.

As you and Heeseung guide Sunoo down the dimly lit hallway towards the dormitories, you can’t help but steal glances at the Gryffindor. The way he effortlessly supports Sunoo, his expression a mix of amusement and genuine concern, is surprisingly endearing – it’s a side of him you’re not used to seeing, and it softens your perception of him just a little.

Finally, you reach Sunoo’s dormitory. You push open the door quietly – wary of not waking his roommates – and Heeseung gently helps him lay onto his bed. Sunoo mumbles incoherently, already half-asleep, as you pull the blankets over him.

Once Sunoo is settled, you and Heeseung silently slip out of the Slytherin common room. The cool dungeon air is a sharp contrast to the warmth of the room you’ve just left. As you walk back up the stairs, you turn to Heeseung, a grateful smile playing on your lips.

You walk in silence, wondering about your next words; but there’s nothing else that comes out of your mouth except a honest gratitude. “I guess I should thank you. I don’t know how I would have managed Sunoo by myself.”

Heeseung waves off your thanks with a chuckle. “No problem. I’m kind of used to bringing students back to their dorms after the play-offs, including the Slytherin players.” His nonchalant tone catches you off guard, and you raise an eyebrow in surprise.

“Really? I didn’t know you were such a regular rescuer.”

Heeseung grins, clearly enjoying your reaction. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

As you reach the entrance to the dungeon, Heeseung pauses, his expression turning more playful. “You know, there’s a way you can thank me,” he says, his voice dropping into a teasing tone.

You freeze in your tracks, eyes meeting his as you tilt your head, curious. “And what’s that?”

For a moment, Heeseung’s gaze intensifies, a smirk playing on his lips. The playful glint in his eyes makes you wonder if he’s hinting at something more suggestive – but it wouldn’t surprise you. Heeseung has never denied his physical attraction to you, and there have been countless moments when his lingering touches or stares have made his feelings evident. Even now, there’s a warmth in his gaze that sends a shiver down your spine.

However, despite the undeniable chemistry between you and Heeseung, there’s a part of you that hesitates to give in. Maybe it’s the thrill of the chase, the excitement of their ongoing game, or perhaps it’s the fear of what might happen if you let your guard down.

You know deep down that if you weren’t so enthralled in this little game you and Heeseung play, you might have given in to his advances long ago. But for now, you’re content to keep him at arm’s length, relishing in the tension and allure that hangs between you.

Heeseung leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “Come watch my next Quidditch match,” he says, mischief dancing in his eyes.

As you feel his body closer to yours, his voice low and teasing, you can’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation in your chest. There’s a part of you that wants to lean even closer, to give in to the magnetic pull of his charm and confidence. But another part of you knows that once you do, there’s no going back.

Determined to hide your emotions, you raise an eyebrow and tilt your head, your voice steady and confident. “Mhm, and why should I come?” you tease, matching his playful tone.

Heeseung’s grin widens, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, for one, you’ll get to see me in action,” he replies smoothly, leaning even closer until you can feel the warmth of his breath. “And maybe, just maybe, I’ll even catch the Golden Snitch for you.”

You scoff, though a small smile tugs at your lips. “You must be pretty confident in your skills then.”

He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Confident enough to know you’ll enjoy every minute of it,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

His words seem to carry a double meaning, the suggestiveness in his tone making your heart race. The way he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your lips for just a moment too long, makes you shiver in anticipation and wonder – everything about him right now is hinting at something more… alluring.

Trying to maintain your composure, you tilt your head, giving him a challenging look. “Is that so?” you reply, your voice softer than intended. “And what makes you so sure I’ll enjoy it?”

Heeseung’s smirk deepens, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I have a feeling I know what you like,” he says, his tone low and suggestive.

Your breath catches at his boldness, and for a brief moment, you find yourself lost in his gaze. The tension between you is palpable, a magnetic pull that you’re not sure you want to resist.

With a deep breath, you break the eye contact, taking a step back to regain some semblance of control. “We’ll see,” you say, your voice steadying. “Maybe I will come to your practice. But don’t get your hopes up too high, Heeseung.”

He chuckles again, clearly enjoying the game you’re both playing. “I never do,” he replies, his eyes still locked onto yours. “I‘ll wait to see your pretty face in the stands.” He adds.

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving Heeseung standing there with a satisfied smirk on his face.

However, as you turn around, you find him staring at you with a cheeky grin, so you take the opportunity to leave him on edge.

“Save the Golden Snitch for the big game.”

And just like that, you leave.

As you make your way back to your dormitory, you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of what’s to come – and whether you’ll be able to resist the undeniable attraction that draws you to Heeseung.

PRESENT TIME

You’d lie to yourself if you said you didn’t spend the following days waiting for the Gryffindor Quidditch practise – despite you caring very little for the magical sport.

But turns out that the mixture of anticipation and thrill – or perhaps something more… carnal? – easily clouds your rational thoughts, so here you are now.

Sunoo had been surprised when you ditched your usual shopping afternoon at Hogsmeade to watch the practise. “Are you seriously asking me to skip Hogsmeade for Quidditch?” he asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

Jake had been even more taken aback when you approached him in the Great Hall, asking him if you and Sunoo could join him to watch the practise. Of course he said yes – taking advantage of it to spend more time with you.

However, as you sit between Jake and Sunoo in the stands, you pay very little attention to Jake – your eyes solely focused on the Gryffindor captain. Every movement Heeseung makes is captivating, each goal sending a thrill through you. Even his quick, confident glances towards the stands seem to be aimed directly at you, making your heart race.

Jake chuckles, nudging you playfully. “You okay? You’ve been awfully quiet.” His expression tells you he’s completely unaware.

Sunoo smirks beside you, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Yeah, you seem really…focused,” he teases lightly, and in the contrary he is clearly aware of what – or who – had caught your attention.

You shake your head, trying to regain your composure. “Just…thinking,” you reply, a bit too quickly.

“Thinking, huh?” Sunoo raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile on his lips.

Before you can respond, the sharp sound of the whistle blows, signaling the end of practice. Players begin to dismount their brooms, and the field quickly fills with the buzz of conversation and laughter.

The walk back to Hogwarts is longer than you expected, cold pervading your body as finally, you feel a sense of comforting warmth as soon as you enter the Castle.

“Never fucking again,” Sunoo blurts out, his body shivering, making you chuckle in amusement.

However, before you and Sunoo take off to your dorms, Jake stops you in your tracks, lingering by the Entrance Hall as he suggests waiting for his best friend.

“He won’t take long,” Jake assures, scanning the dispersing crowd of students. Sunoo sighs loudly in response, but you simply shut him with a nudge of your elbow.

“Remember me to never say yes when you and your Hufflepuff friend ask me to hang out with you losers,” he adds with a whisper, still loud enough for Jake to hear it.

Soon enough, Heeseung emerges from the throng of Gryffindor teammates, walking side by side with Soobin, his second in command, arm thrown around his shoulders. They’re deep in conversation, but Heeseung’s eyes flicker in your direction, a brief look of surprise crossing his features before he quickly masks it with his usual confident demeanor.

“Yo Heeseung!” Jake points out, waving his arm to catch his friend’s attention, a wide smile appearing on his gentle face.

The Gryffindor approaches his best friend with a friendly bump of hand, a silent sign for Jake to congratulate him for his amazing performance.

However, as Jake tightens his grip on him, you can’t help but notice how Heeseung’s eyes are set on you – despite you standing behind the two of them.

Then, he approaches you and Sunoo, a smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, directing his comment primarily at you, though his tone remained casual. “Thought you’d be off bitching somewhere like your usual.”

Heeseung is great at hiding things, always masking his amusement with a mischievous smirk. Although the glint in his eyes hides an anticipation that leaves you uneasy. It’s as if he deliberately wants to be one step ahead, contrarily to what you’re used to.

You roll your eyes at his words, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Decided to take a break from bitching around to see if the Gryffindor team lives up to its reputation.”

Soobin, who walked closer to his teammate, chuckles beside Heeseung. “And? What’s the verdict?”

You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding. “Not bad. But I might need to see a few more practices before I’m really convinced.”

Heeseung and Soobin laugh to each other, their chuckle resonating like an irritating sound as you eye them back and forth.

Heeseung‘s smirk widens as his eyes lock on yours once again. “It won’t be hard.”

His words are soon followed by another muffled chuckle from Soobin – you don’t know why, but there’s something in their demeanour that makes you feel like they’re laughing at you.

It’s not the first time you noticed a shift in Heeseung’s attitude when he’s with his friends – his teasing takes on a sharper edge, bordering on mean-spirited at times. It’s as if he’s acting like a different person, one that thrives on banter and sarcasm.

But it’s not the light, teasing sarcasm he uses when it’s just the two of you; it’s sharper, colder, and laced with a hint of malice.

Before you can stop yourself, you step forward, confronting Heeseung. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” you respond, your tone matching his in its biting edge. “What makes you think the other teams won’t be better than you? More skilled, more cunning? After all, it takes more than a flashy performance to impress everyone.”

Heeseung’s smirk falters for a moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features before he masks it with mock amusement. “Tsk, what would a girl like you know about Quidditch?” he retorts, his tone dripping with condescension.

You bristle at his words, the implication clear. But rather than let his taunts get to you, you square your shoulders and meet his gaze head-on.

“I know more than you can imagine,” you respond, your voice laced with determination. “Don’t underestimate me just because I don’t flaunt it like you do.”

Heeseung’s teammates let out a collective “oooh” at your retort, clearly entertained by the exchange. Heeseung himself chuckles, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“I’m sure you enjoy putting your nose in things that don’t revolve around you,” he retorts, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “But sometimes, keeping your mouth shut is the best option.”

His words resonate with something within you, and suddenly you remember – you said these very same words to him back in the pub just a few days back. The same words you knew hit him more than you intended.

But before you could respond, he opens his mouth again, what he says next leaving you speechless to say the least.

“Although you seem to enjoy widening your mouth quite often.”

At this point he can’t even hide the suggestiveness in his tone, his remark hitting you unexpectedly as he shamelessly insulted you in front of the other students – the very same guy who helped just a few days prior, the same guy who always flirted you, teased you, burned for you without ever hiding it.

But he never dared to shame you in front of anybody, sparring you from any undesired comment.

So you question yourself… why? Why do that, why now?

And then, as you wonder the reason why, you see it.

His dark eyes stare deep into yours, before he betrays himself by a brief, yet perceptible glance towards something – or rather, someone – next to you.

Jake Sim.

You can’t help but gaze at the Hufflepuff, expression falling as you notice irritation in his eyes, solely focused on Heeseung.

“Man,” he calls him, before Heeseung sets his eyes on him again. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The tension in the air is palpable as Jake’s words hang heavy between them. Heeseung’s smirk fades, replaced by a flicker of surprise at Jake’s sudden outburst. For a moment, the Gryffindor captain seems taken aback, his usual confidence faltering in the face of his friend’s direct confrontation.

You watch in silence, unsure of what to say or do. It’s as if the world around you has frozen in that moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. What started as a simple exchange of words has escalated into something far more serious, and you find yourself caught in the middle of it all.

And in that moment, you ask yourself how.

The question lingers in your mind, nagging at you as you struggle to make sense of the situation. How could Heeseung know about you and Jake – his long-lost crush and his best friend, hooking up behind his back?You had trusted him to keep your secret, to never tell anyone about your sexual escapades. But now, faced with Heeseung’s veiled accusation, you feel doubts creep in.

Part of you wants to believe that Jake has remained true to his word, that he would never betray your trust. But the uncertainty gnaws at you; could Heeseung have somehow found out on his own? How could he do that? Did someone tell him, perhaps – someone who’s aware of it?

The tension in the air is palpable, the students around you sensing the imminent conflict. Jake’s face is a mix of confusion and anger, clearly not catching the deeper implication behind Heeseung’s words. He steps forward, his jaw clenched.

“What the hell is your problem, Heeseung?” Jake repeats with a demanding tone, his voice low but seething with anger. “You think you can just talk to her like that?”

Heeseung’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by an annoyed frown. He takes a step closer to the Hufflepuff, their faces inches apart. “I can talk however I want Jake. Now stay out of it.”

Jake scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Stay out of it? You’re the one making this a big deal. She came to watch practice, and you’re treating her like crap for no reason.”

The surrounding crowd of students watches in rapt attention, whispers and murmurs spreading like wildfire. You stand there, feeling helpless and torn between the two. You want to intervene, to diffuse the situation, but fear roots you to the spot.

“Jake,” you start, trying to keep your voice steady, “this isn’t necessary. Let’s just—”

But he cuts you off, his gaze never leaving Heeseung. “No, Y/N. Heeseung needs to learn that he can’t just walk all over people simply because he’s the Quidditch captain.”

Heeseung’s eyes flash with anger, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “I think you should watch your mouth, Jake, before you say something you regret.” His gaze then moves to you, before glancing back and forth between you and his friend. “Especially since you’ve already done something you should regret.”

Without warning, Jake shoves Heeseung, sending him stumbling back a few steps. The crowd gasps collectively, the tension skyrocketing. Heeseung quickly regains his balance, his face darkening with fury. He lunges at his friend, grabbing him by the collar of his robes.

“You wanna start something?” Heeseung growls, his voice a low rumble. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Before either of them can throw a punch, you step between them, placing a hand on each of their chests, trying to push them apart. “Stop it, both of you!” you shout, your voice cracking with desperation.

Sunoo watches the entire scene with frightened eyes, confusion painted in his expression as he wonders why the sudden outburst. His surprise matches yours, making you feel powerless as the two friends continue jumping on each other.

Jake takes a step forward, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turn white. His eyes leave Heeseung, soon finding yours, “Whatever his problem is, I won’t stand by and watch him treat you like this.”

You feel a rush of warmth at Jake’s words, a mixture of gratitude and anxiety washing over you – you’ve always known Jake to be protective, but this situation makes you realize just how much he cares about you. It’s a comforting thought, but also a daunting one, knowing the depth of the conflict it has now sparked.

Before you can respond, Jake lunges at Heeseung, his fist aiming for his jaw. The Gryffindor moves quickly, dodging the punch and countering with a shove that sends Jake stumbling backward. The crowd gasps collectively, the tension escalating with each passing second.

Jake regains his balance and charges at his friend again, this time managing to land a punch on his shoulder. Heeseung grunts in pain but doesn’t back down. He grabs Jake by the collar of his robes and pulls him close, their faces inches apart.

“Crazy how a girl can turn you into an animal.” Heeseung doesn’t even pretend to make his words less harsh, adding a mean twist into them as he plays with Jake’s patience. “To the point of lying to your best friend.”

Jake is taken aback by Heeseung’s words, his eyes widening in shock and confusion. His brows knit together as he processes the accusation, struggling to understand how Heeseung could possibly know about the secret you’ve both been keeping. He starts to speak, his voice a mixture of frustration and disbelief, “What are you talking about, Heeseung? How did you–”

Before he can continue, you interrupt with a shout. “Stop it, both of you!” you exclaim, stepping between them and placing a hand on each of their chests, trying to push them apart. “This isn’t solving anything.”

Jake’s eyes flicker to you, his expression softening just slightly. “Y/N, don’t. He’s the one who–”

“No, Jake,” you cut him off, your voice firm. “This is ridiculous. Fighting isn’t going to solve anything. Just let it go.”

Your gaze meets Heeseung’s, searching for any hint of remorse or explanation. His expression remains stoic, a carefully constructed mask that hides whatever emotions lie beneath. His eyes, however, are a different story – there’s a flicker of something, an indescribable mix of regret, frustration, and perhaps something more vulnerable. But he quickly buries it beneath his usual cool exterior, his jaw tightening as he holds your gaze.

His grip on Jake’s collar loosens, but his glare remains fixed. “She’s right. This isn’t worth it.”

Then, his eyes shift back to yours, and what remains of the feeble hint of vulnerability in his expression fades away entirely, replaced by a knowing smirk.

“She isn’t worth it.”

His words hit you like a slap, your breath catching in your throat. You can’t describe it, but there’s something in his tone that tells you this isn’t just about Jake. It’s as if he’s trying to convince himself of it, rather than you or anyone else. The mix of emotions in his eyes – hurt, defeat, and something else you can’t quite pinpoint – leaves you feeling uneasy.

If it’s true that he found out about you and his best friend hooking up, why did he even care so much?

Jake stands beside you, a protective barrier against Heeseung’s hostility, but his presence doesn’t ease the turmoil in your heart. Sunoo’s concerned gaze flickers between you and Jake, as if trying to piece together the underlying tensions.

Heeseung gives you one more look, before glancing at Jake briefly with what looks a disappointed gaze.

And just like that, without muttering a word, he steps away from you, leaving the grip on Jake’s collar as he straightens himself up.

He cough slightly, trying to ease himself out, before one of his teammates calls his attention – a mere, yet smart attempt to save the situation – and gestures him to walk away.

“I’m sorry,” Jake murmurs, breaking the silence. “I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It’s not your fault.” You try to sound genuine, despite the heaviness in your heart. “Let’s just get out of here.”

As you begin to walk away to the opposite direction, you steal one last glance at Heeseung. He’s already turned his back, walking off with his teammates, his posture tense and rigid. The smirk he wore earlier is gone, replaced by a clenched jaw.

As you, Jake, and Sunoo make your way back to your dorms, the weight of Jake and Heeseung’s fight settles heavily on your shoulders.

Your mind races, replaying Heeseung’s words over and over. “She isn’t worth it.” The way he spat those words out, the venom in his tone, and yet the subtle hint of something else – something almost like regret – gnaws at you. You can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to his outburst, something deeper that he’s hiding.

You’ve always been aware of his presence, his teasing, his flirtations, but today, you glimpsed a vulnerability that contradicted his usual self.

Now, that vulnerability haunts you, making you question everything you thought you knew about him.

And for the first time, you realise you might care about the Gryffindor captain more than you imagined.

One of the reasons why your name is often in people’s mouth, is thanks to the power you uphold whenever someone dares to cross you.

You’ve never been the type to let others win, to let go of the wrongs done to you. No, you’re a girl who thrives on the challenge, who finds satisfaction in subtle revenge, in being a constant, teasing menace to those who dare to stab you in the back.

After all, you’ve perfected the art of the sly remark, the lingering glance, the calculated silence that speaks volumes – it’s needless to say you’re now a master of being the pettiest person in the world, savoring every moment of your opponent’s discomfort.

The memory of Heeseung’s words still stings, but you refuse to let it show. Instead, you channel yourself not with hostility, but with the kind of playful vexation that can drive someone mad. You know just how to get under his skin, how to turn the tables and make him question his own actions.

Because there must have been something that made Heeseung turn against you, but you know his obsession for you is anything but faltering.

And so, you’ll get back at him in the way you know best – teasing the hell out of him.

Over the next few days, you execute your plan with meticulous precision. Every encounter with Heeseung becomes an opportunity to drive him crazy, to remind him that you’re not someone he can easily dismiss or insult without consequences.

What you do, is basically play his own game.

In the corridors between classes, you make a point of walking past him with a confident stride, offering him a fleeting, knowing smile that leaves him staring after you, perplexed and frustrated – you’re supposed to be angry at him, he believes.

You brush against him ‘accidentally’ in crowded hallways, the brief contact sending a jolt through both of you. Each time, you act as though nothing happened, while his gaze follows you with a mixture of annoyance and something else – something that tells you your plan is working.

During meals in the Great Hall, you sit just within his line of sight. You laugh a little too loudly at something Jake says, your eyes glancing at Heeseung just long enough to catch his reaction. You notice his jaw clench, his fingers tighten around his fork. You’re under his skin, and you relish the sight of him struggling to maintain his composure.

In Transfiguration class, where you purposely sit close to his desk, your teasing becomes more direct. You walk towards him with the excuse of borrowing some materials, your proximity causing his breath to hitch. You let your fingers brush against his when passing a textbook, a touch so brief yet so electrifying that it leaves him staring at you in stunned silence.

“Careful, Heeseung,” you whisper one day, your lips curving into a smirk as you lean in close enough to feel his breath on your skin. “Unless you want to transform yourself into an ugly rat.”

His eyes darken, a flicker of frustration and desire crossing his face, but he says nothing. He’s trying to play it cool, to not give you the satisfaction, but you can see the cracks in his facade.

“What? Can’t even talk back? And here I thought you kept your mouth open all the time.”

One cold afternoon, you find Choi Soobin in the courtyard during lunch, striking up a conversation. The tall Gryffindor, despite his shyness, welcomes your company, completely unaware of your ulterior motive.

He barely notices your intentions as you laugh at his jokes, leaning in closer than necessary, your hand occasionally brushing his arm. Your body language is open, inviting, and it doesn’t take long before Soobin is fully engaged in the conversation. You let your fingers trail down his arm as you laugh at something he says, your touch lingering just enough to send a clear message.

From the corner of your eye, you spot Heeseung standing a distance away, watching intently. You can feel his eyes burning into you, the intensity of his gaze almost palpable. Knowing you have his full attention, you decide go further.

“Soobin,” you purr, your voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. “How come you aren’t the captain of your team?”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard by your sudden boldness. “Oh, well,” he stammers, trying to play it cool. “Heeseung's just... more experienced, I guess.”

You lean in even closer, your doe eyes gazing him up and down. “More experienced? Mhm, I don’t know. I think you’d make an excellent captain.”

You make sure your words are loud enough for Heeseung to hear, and you can practically feel the tension radiating from him. You glance over Soobin’s shoulder, meeting Heeseung’s gaze with a smirk. His expression is a mix of frustration and something darker, something that tells you he’s struggling to keep his composure.

With one last lingering touch on Soobin’s arm, you straighten up, giving Heeseung a triumphant look. You’ve made your point, and as you walk away, you can feel the weight of his eyes on your back, knowing that your game has only just begun.

But as every game, it also must come with an end.

And what better time and place if not during the big, final Quidditch game of the season?

Gryffindor against Slytherin.

Finally the day comes, and you find yourself sitting in one of the Slytherin stands with Sunoo next to you. The Quidditch pitch buzzes with excitement, students from all houses filling the stands, their colors vibrant in the early morning light. Banners wave, and cheers echo across the field.

“It better be good,” Sunoo sighs, annoyed that you convinced him to tag along with you. But deep down, you know he only accepted because he was aware of your little revenge plan against Heeseung.

And of course, he’s not one to miss – especially when it comes to drama.

Speaking of which; “Wait, do you see that?”

Sunoo’s high pitched tone piques your curiosity as you look at the direction he points at; thankfully your stands are in the lower section, giving you a decent visuality on the little area reserved to the Quidditch teams, both preparing for the game.

Everyone, excepts two players.

Soobin and… Heeseung?

The sight surprises you; you hadn’t expected to see Heeseung off the pitch, especially not with Soobin.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Sunoo muses, his eyes fixed on the two boys.

You can’t help but wonder the same thing. There’s something about the way they’re standing, heads close together, that makes you feel uneasy. But before you can dwell on it further, the announcer’s voice cuts through the air, signaling the start of the game.

You tear your gaze away from the two Gryffindors, focusing instead on the players as they mount their brooms.

As the game begins, the roar of the crowd fills the air, adding to the electric atmosphere pulsating throughout the Quidditch pitch. You watch with bated breath as the players soar into the sky, their movements swift and graceful as they chase after the elusive golden Snitch.

Despite your initial intention to get back at Heeseung, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to stare at him.

His figure cuts a striking image against the backdrop of the sky, his movements fluid and effortless as he maneuvers through the air. Despite the distance between you, his presence seems to fill the entire pitch, drawing your gaze like a magnet.

You can’t help but marvel at the way he commands the game, his confidence and skill on full display for everyone to see and for a moment, you can’t help but feel a twinge of admiration.

But then, you remember the way he treated you, the hurtful words he flung at you without a second thought, and the admiration is quickly replaced by resentment.

You watch him as he commands the other players, his every move calculated and precise.

Then, as if sensing your staring, Heeseung’s gaze sweeps across the stands, and his eyes lock onto yours. For a brief moment, time seems to stand still as you hold each other’s gaze, the intensity of his stare sending a shiver down your spine.

But you can’t let your emotions cloud your true intentions, the very reason you’re here.

And so, with fervent enthusiasm, you rise up from your seat, shouting loudly alongside the other students.

“Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin!”

Heeseung’s expression hardens instantly. You see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes, his jaw clenching as he processes your blatant support for his rival team.

His confident smirk fades, replaced by a look of irritation. Even from a distance, you can sense the tension radiating off him, his competitive nature struggling to remain composed.

His eyes dart away from you, focusing back on the game with renewed determination. Each move he makes is more aggressive, his frustration evident in the way he commands his team. The other players notice the shift in his demeanor, responding to his urgency with increased effort.

The cheers from the Slytherin supporters grow louder, your voice among them. You know your actions are getting under Heeseung’s skin, and a part of you relishes in it.

This is your way of regaining control, of reminding him that no one can win against your tactics.

Soon, the Quidditch pitch becomes a battleground, with players zooming through the air, dodging Bludgers, and chasing the Quaffle with a singular focus.

Heeseung’s focus is sharp, his movements precise and calculated. Yet, every time he glances towards the stands and sees you cheering for Slytherin, his annoyance grows. His jaw tightens each time you rise from your seat, your voice loud and clear in support of his opponents.

You continue to chant, eyes locked on Heeseung, watching as he channels his irritation into his gameplay.

He is not just a skilled player; he’s a strategist. He maneuvers his broom with a grace that borders on artistry, directing his team with an intensity that pushes them to perform at their peak. He blocks goal after goal, his skills undeniable.

“And Gryffindor Captain Lee Heeseung makes another spectacular save!” the commentator’s voice booms across the pitch, adding to the charged atmosphere. “But Slytherin is not backing down. It’s a tight game!”

But then, a swift play from Slytherin catches him off guard. A Slytherin Chaser manages to slip past the Gryffindor defense, scoring a clean goal. The Slytherin stands erupt in cheers, and you join in, your voice deliberately loud.

“Yes! Go, Slytherin!” you shout, the triumph in your voice clear.

Heeseung’s irritation is palpable even from your spot in the stands. His eyes narrow, and he mutters something to his teammates before launching back into the game with renewed vigor. The intensity of his play increases, each move executed with a fierce determination.

“Hwang Yeji from Slytherin scores!” the commentator announces, heightening the crowd’s excitement. “The score is now 80-70 in favor of Slytherin.”

As the match progresses, the score remains close, each team fighting relentlessly for every point. The crowd’s energy is electric, feeding into the players’ adrenaline. You continue to cheer for Slytherin, each shout a reminder to Heeseung of your defiance.

Finally, the moment arrives. The Seekers from both teams spot the Golden Snitch, and a race ensues. The crowd holds its breath, the tension reaching its peak.

Heeseung, in his dual role as both captain and Seeker, swiftly shifts his focus from guarding the goalposts to the elusive Snitch. His eyes narrow, locking onto the tiny, golden ball flitting near the far end of the pitch. He spurs his broom forward, his movements a blend of grace and sheer speed. Every muscle in his body is taut, his concentration unwavering as he focuses on his target.

The Slytherin Seeker, not far behind, mirrors Heeseung’s urgency. The two rivals dart through the air, weaving between players and dodging Bludgers with a precision that leaves the crowd on the edge of their seats. The intensity of the chase electrifies the atmosphere, the anticipation palpable.

“Lee and Huening are neck and neck!” the commentator’s voice echoes through the stadium, amplifying the suspense. “This could decide the game!”

You lean forward, your heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of the game. Even your plan to tease Heeseung is momentarily forgotten as you become absorbed in the thrilling spectacle. Sunoo grips your arm, his eyes wide with excitement.

“If he catches it, he wins,” Sunoo murmurs, unable to tear his gaze away from the pitch.

With each second that passes, Heeseung inches closer to the Snitch. His focus sharp, his body moving instinctively with his broom as he navigates the air with unparalleled skill. The Slytherin Seeker, equally determined, stretches forward, fingertips brushing the air just millimeters from the Snitch.

And then, in a breathtaking moment of brilliance, Heeseung accelerates.

He leans into his broom, extending his arm fully, his fingers closing around the Golden Snitch just as the Slytherin Seeker reaches for it. A triumphant roar erupts from the Gryffindor supporters, the sound echoing through the stands.

“Heeseung has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!” the commentator exclaims, the joy in his voice resonating with the excited crowd.

The Gryffindor team converges on Heeseung, their cheers and shouts of victory ringing out as they lift him into the air. Heeseung holds the Snitch high, a victorious smile on his face, though his eyes quickly scan the crowd, searching. When his gaze finds yours, the intensity returns, a mixture of triumph and challenge burning in his eyes.

You force a smile, clapping politely despite the mixed emotions swirling within you. Sunoo sighs defeatedly at the loss of his House – despite his lack of interest for the game itself – but joins in the applause, though his knowing glance tells you he’s aware of the deeper game at play.

As the celebrations continue on the pitch, you can’t help but feel a grudging respect for Heeseung’s performance and determination.

But the battle between you two is far from over. If anything, his victory only fuels your resolve to continue your little game with him.

And as you leave the stands, the lingering anticipation of your next encounter with Heeseung keeps your heart racing, the game between you two promising to be just as thrilling as the one you’ve just witnessed.

The Gryffindor team’s victory party was the talk of the school. It was everyone’s knowledge that Gryffindor celebrations were the wildest, and tonight promised to be no different.

As you stand in front of the mirror in your dormitory, you take extra care in preparing yourself. If you were going to face Heeseung again, you needed to be at your best. Your outfit was both bold and attractive, designed to catch eyes and turn heads – although it wasn’t something new to you. With a final touch of makeup and a spritz of perfume, you give yourself a confident nod.

But tonight, you have an extra edge. Beneath your sleek, dark dress, you’re wearing a set of red lingerie – intricate lace that hugs your curves deliciously and make you feel powerful. The color was a deliberate choice, and you can’t deny that it fits you perfectly.

It’s a symbol of your confidence, a secret weapon that makes you feel bold and in control.

However, you can’t help the thrill pervading your body at the thought of Heeseung discovering it.

Not that you had any intention of hooking up with him – he doesn’t deserve it, after all. But the idea of him realizing just how much effort you put into tonight, for yourself, made your heart race with a mix of anticipation and defiance. He might have taunted you, tried to put you down, but tonight you were in control.

With one last glance in the mirror, you stepped out of your dormitory, determination and anticipation fueling your every step.

Before heading to the Gryffindor common room, you meet with Sunoo, who is waiting for you in the corridor. He immediately notices your arrival and raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of impatience and amusement.

“Late as usual,” Sunoo says, crossing his arms over his chest.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. “Only for a few minutes,” you drawl out, feigning innocence.

He gestures dramatically to his clothes, impeccable as ever. “Can you see the dust on my clothes? I’ve been standing here so long, I’m practically turning into a statue.”

“Sure,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Let’s just go.”

With that, the two of you start walking towards the Gryffindor common room. The anticipation builds with each step, the sound of the party growing louder as you approach. Sunoo chatters beside you, his excitement palpable, but you can’t help the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

You say the magical password, and the portrait of the Fat Lady swings open, revealing the vibrant, bustling common room.

You and Sunoo step inside, immediately engulfed in the atmosphere of joy and camaraderie. The room is decked out in red and gold, the colors of the victorious Gryffindor team, and the air is thick with the scent of Butterbeer and various magical treats.

Sunoo wastes no time diving into the throng of students, his excitement pulling him into the heart of the party. You, however, take a moment to look around the room, scanning for any sign of a familiar face.

Your eyes land on Park Sunghoon, the Ravenclaw prefect, standing by the fireplace by himself. You excuse yourself from Sunoo, who’s already mingling with a group of Gryffindors, and start making your way toward Sunghoon.

Just as you’re about to reach him, someone bumps into you hard from the side, nearly knocking you off balance.

“What the–” you start to say, but the words die on your lips when you see who it is.

Jay fucking Park.

“Oops, my bad,” he grins, steadying you with a firm hand on your shoulder. But there’s a sharpness in his eyes that contradicts his friendly facade.

You shrug his arm off, eyeing him with an annoyed look. “Don’t touch me.”

Jay’s grin widens, his eyes narrowing. “Mhm, annoying as always. Maybe that’s why you’re here, to stir up some trouble.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business, Jay?” you retort, your voice cold.

He chuckles, the sound low and mocking. “I’m just saying, you seem out of place here. Maybe you should go back to wherever you came from.”

He looks around the grand room, taking in the outstanding decor as well as the large amount of people already engaging in festive activities.

“Gryffindor knows how to throw a celebration, especially after a win like that. Though I suppose you wouldn’t know much about winning, would you?” He continues, his eyes ranking over you in a way that makes your skin crawl.

You bite back a retort, maintaining your composure. “Actually, I’m quite familiar with success. Maybe you just haven’t been paying attention.”

Jay laughs, a cruel edge to the sound. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Before you can respond, a sudden voice interrupts.

“Is there a problem here?”

You turn to see Sunghoon – your favourite prefect – standing with a stoic look on his face. Jay’s smirk widens for a moment, and he steps back.

“Ah, one of your preys,” Jay sneers, his eyes glinting with malice. “Although you moved from him rather quickly.”

You narrow your eyes at Jay, your irritation growing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jay shrugs nonchalantly, the smirk never leaving his face. “Just saying, it’s impressive how fast you can switch your attention. Too bad everyone is too absorbed on your appearance to focus on that.”

You clench your fists, trying to keep your composure. “What’s your problem, Jay?”

Jay leans in slightly, lowering his voice but making sure it’s still loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “That’s why someone has to tell people and make them aware, right?”

He tilts his head subtly, and you follow his gaze to see none other than Heeseung staring at your conversation with an unreadable expression.

Your heart skips a beat, the weight of Heeseung’s gaze adding to the tension. You can’t decipher if he’s is angry, attentive, or something else entirely, but the intensity of his stare sends a shiver down your spine.

“Back off, Jay,” you say, your voice firm but low. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Jay retorts, his smirk widening as he glances back at Heeseung. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

Before you can respond, Sunghoon steps forward, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. “Leave her alone, Jay. This isn’t the place for your petty games.”

Sunghoon’s intervention earns him a disdainful glance from Jay, who responds with a snarky retort. “Of course another empty-headed idiot runs to her rescue. And here I thought she was perfectly capable of handling me herself,” Jay quips, his words dripping with sarcasm.

You can feel Jay’s eyes boring into you, his words hiding a hint of amusement beneath their sharp edge. Despite the hostility in his tone, there’s an undeniable satisfaction in his gaze as he awaits your response.

You meet Jay’s gaze head-on, refusing to cower under his mocking scrutiny. With a cold smile, you respond, “Oh, I can handle you just fine, Jay. But why waste my energy on someone so insignificant?”

Jay’s retort is immediate, but before he can fully respond, you cut him off, your voice low and fierce. “If you spent half as much time working on yourself as you do trying to tear others down, you might actually be worth something.”

The time seems to stop as you continue to tell him off, catching the attention of a few students around you as the listen to your piercing words.

They cut through the tension like a knife, and you can see a flicker of surprise in Jay’s eyes before he quickly recovers. He opens his mouth to respond, but you don’t give him the chance, turning away dismissively and leaving him standing there, speechless.

However, you immediately hear your name being called, catching your attention as you pretend not to hear Jay’s screeching voice.

“Mark my words, Y/N, your little secrets will find a way of catching up to you.”

Gryffindor certainly knows how to throw the biggest parties, especially when the Quidditch team emerges triumphant after the final game of the season. And at the center of attention, as always, is Lee Heeseung.

It’s inevitable that everyone’s eyes are all on him tonight, however he can’t seem to focus on anyone else.

If not on only one person.

His gaze is drawn irresistibly to the corner of the room where a familiar scene is unfolding. You’re there, caught in a heated exchange with Jay, your eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and anger.

Heeseung watches intently as Jay, with his usual cocky grin, leans in a little too close, his words obviously designed to provoke. His jaw tightens, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. He knows Jay too well – the Slytherin has a passion to stir up troubles everywhere he goes.

From his vantage point, Heeseung can see the tension in your posture, the way you stand your ground despite Jay’s taunting. He notices the subtle flicker of Sunghoon’s hand on your shoulder, a gesture meant to support but one that seems to only escalate Jay’s antagonism – as well as Heeseung’s jealousy at the small, yet intimate action.

He feels anger pervading your body as he listens to Jay’s words.“Of course another empty-headed idiot runs to her rescue. And here I thought she was perfectly capable of handling me herself.”

“Oh, I can handle you just fine, Jay. But why waste my energy on someone so insignificant?”

Heeseung’s lips twitch into a small smile at your words, a sense of satisfaction warming his chest. He loves seeing you hold your own, matching Jay’s snark with your own biting wit.

“If you spent half as much time working on yourself as you do trying to tear others down, you might actually be worth something.”

The crowd around you murmurs in reaction, some laughing, others whispering in surprise at your boldness.

Heeseung watches as Jay’s expression falters, the usual bravado slipping for a moment. But the Slytherin quickly recovers, his gaze turning icy as he takes a step back, clearly affected by your words more than he’d care to admit.

Heeseung can’t help but feel a surge of pride at your display of strength. He watches the way you carry yourself, the fire in your eyes, and he’s reminded of why he’s drawn to you, why you occupy his thoughts even in the midst of his greatest triumphs.

As Jay slinks away after threatening you with his last words, Heeseung’s eyes remain fixed on you. You stand tall, the flush of victory coloring your cheeks, and for a moment, your gaze lifts and meets his across the room.

One of Heeseung’s teammates claps him on the back, trying to pull him back into the celebration. “Captain! C’mon, we got to toast to our win!”

But Heeseung barely registers the words. His eyes remain locked on you as you exchange a few words with the Ravenclaw prefect. Even as the Gryffindor common room buzzes with noise and music, his focus is unwavering.

You turn, glancing back one last time, and then start to walk away with Sunghoon. The sight of you leaving tugs at something deep within Heeseung, a mix of frustration and longing swirling inside him.

“Heeseung, seriously, what’s up?” his teammate persists, waving a hand in front of his face.

Heeseung blinks, finally tearing his gaze away from your retreating figure. “Yeah, I’m here,” he mumbles incoherently, but his mind is still elsewhere, following you as you disappear from view.

He takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the distraction, but he can’t ignore the pull you have on him. Tonight, more than ever, he’s aware of how much he wants to close the distance between you.

As the party continues to swell with laughter and cheers, Heeseung’s thoughts are consumed by you. The memory of your fiery retort to Jay, the way you held your ground – it all replays in his mind.

He knows he should be mad at you, despite you doing nothing.

But truthfully, that’s what pains him the most – that you did nothing.

He’s aware that you know of his never-ending obsession for you, but the fact that you’ve never gave him the satisfaction of being his haunts him.

Even Jake got to have you before he did, that’s why he was angry at him.

Heeseung makes a decision. He can’t let this night end without talking to you, without addressing the tension that’s been simmering between you for so long.

His eyes weave through the throng of students, eyes locked on you as you sit with Sunghoon, the proximity between you two making his blood boil.

Determination fuels him, and he’s almost got up from his seat when a sudden presence halts his advance.

Jay, with his ever-present smirk, slips into the seat on the couch next to Heeseung, blocking his path.

“Heeseung,” Jay drawls, leaning back casually. “What’s the rush? Got somewhere more important to be?”

Heeseung clenches his jaw, irritation flaring. “Not now, Jay.”

His eyes unconsciously wander to you, staring at you from afar. “Oh, I see. Off to chase after your little obsession again?” Jay chuckles, his eyes glinting with mischief. “After everything I told you?”

His tone is condescending, and Heeseung fights the urge to snap back. Instead, he forces a calmness into his voice, even as his eyes remain glued to you. “Jay, drop it. This isn’t about you.”

Jay shrugs, his smirk widening. “You’re right. It’s about you making a fool of yourself over someone who doesn’t even care.”

Heeseung’s fists clench at his sides, his patience wearing thin. “And what the fuck do you know?”

Jay’s laughter is sharp and grating. “Oh, I know more than you can think of. Come on, Heeseung, even you can’t be this blind. She’s using you, playing you like a fiddle. And you’re letting her.”

Heeseung’s thoughts swirl in turmoil. He knows Jay’s words are meant to rile him up, to push him to the edge. But there’s a sliver of truth that cuts through his bravado, a nagging doubt that he can’t entirely shake.

His eyes remain locked on you; he can’t deny the magnetic pull he feels towards you, the way his heart races whenever you’re near. It’s an obsession he can’t control, a burning desire that consumes him.

Suddenly – as the music shifts to a slower, more sensual beat – you rise from your seat, leaving Sunghoon behind.

You glide towards the dance floor, your movements deliberate and confident. The crowd parts slightly, allowing you to step into the center. The lights cast a soft glow over your form, highlighting the curves of your dress and the graceful sway of your hips.

You start to dance, your body moving with a fluid sensuality that draws every eye in the room to you.

Heeseung’s breath catches in his throat, his gaze focused on you. He watches as you lose yourself in the music, your movements both provocative and mesmerizing. Every sway, every turn is a silent invitation, a tantalizing promise that keeps him rooted to the spot, unable to look away.

The way you dance, it’s as if you’re performing just for him, every motion designed to drive him mad with longing.

Beside him, Jay’s eyes are also locked on you. Despite his earlier words, he can’t keep his eyes off you, a frustrated tension evident in his posture. His smirk falters slightly as he watches your movements, unable to look away from the seductive sway of your hips, the graceful turn of your body.

“Look at her, Heeseung,” Jay mutters, a sneaky but mean edge to his voice. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she? You’re practically drooling.”

Heeseung doesn’t respond, his focus unwavering. He watches as you throw your head back, your laughter mingling with the music, your eyes alight with mischief and challenge.

The song shifts, the tempo slowing slightly, and you take advantage of the moment. Your movements become more deliberate, more languid, each step and sway a purposeful taunt.

And then, your eyes lock with his.

Heeseung’s breath quickens, his eyes following your every move with an intensity that sends a thrill down your spine.

You’re playing with fire, and you know it – but you can’t help but relish the way he reacts to you, the way his facade cracks under the weight of his desire.

The way your eyes wander all over him, the smirk plastered on your face and your body swinging sensually are a painful reminder that he can’t have you.

And that only adds fuel to his growing desire.

You spin away, the crowd swallowing you up as the music shifts again. You’re dancing with abandon now, letting the music guide your movements.

As you move, Heeseung notices the way everyone is looking at you – the usual composed Sunghoon, who stands nearby, eyes locked on your figure. Jay, whose smirk has faded in something more serious, more calculating.

But none of them matter to him.

Not when he’s so distant from you, and yet so agonisingly close.

He knows the game isn’t over, not by a long shot.

And one thing is sure for Heeseung: the game isn’t over until he wins.

There’s a beautiful balcony outside the Gryffindor common room, the quiet sounds of the courtyards, mixed with sounds of magical animals roaring in the night sky, creates a peaceful contrast with the loud cheers and music inside.

The frisk air hits you, and you close your eyes in an appreciative manner as you savour the gentle breeze on your face.

You’re standing alone, Sunoo now long lost somewhere with other students, so you take your chance to unwind a bit by yourself.

The calming peace, however, is soon interrupted by the giant, glass doors opening behind you. Your heart skips a beat as you turn slowly, and your eyes meet an impeding figure.

Heeseung steps onto the balcony, his gaze a mixture of determination and something darker. It’s odd, really, how everytime you’re alone with each other there’s always an undeniable tension.

He doesn’t say anything at first, his footsteps echoing slightly as he approaches you. He keeps his distance from you, although his gaze never leaves your figure.

You stand in silence for a few seconds, before he finally breaks it, his voice low and rough.

“I didn’t expect to find you out here alone,” he says, his tone guarded.

You don’t meet his gaze, your body standing still. “I needed a break from the chaos inside,” you reply casually.

Heeseung nods, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Fair enough,” he murmurs, taking a step closer. “Mind if I join you?”

You’re unable to suppress a chuckle, this time meeting his dark eyes. “So that you can offend me again?” Your tone is hard, tinted with venom. “Unfortunately for you there’s no one watching.”

He’s taken aback by your words, stumbling back as guilt washes him entirely. “Y/N, it’s not–”

“What, Heeseung?” You interrupt him, not wasting any time. “I knew you were an attention seeker, but I never thought you could be like Jay.”

Heeseung’s eyes narrow at your words, a muscle in his jaw tightening. “Don’t compare me to Jay,” he snaps, his voice rising slightly. “I’m nothing like him.”

You can see the frustration building in him, the struggle to maintain control. His hands clench into fists at his sides, and he takes a step closer, the intensity in his eyes growing. “I didn’t come here to play games or seek attention.”

“Then why?”

Your tone is sharp, laced with impatience. Heeseung falters, the words catching in his throat. He struggles to find the right response, his frustration palpable.

“I…” He stops, taking another step closer, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I need to know something.”

His words, as well as his unusually gentle tone, surprise you, curiosity piqued by the raw emotion in his voice.

“Why do you keep playing with me?”

The question hangs in the air, charged with years of unspoken tension and unresolved feelings. Heeseung’s gaze is intense, almost pleading, as he waits for your response.

You’re taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice, the crack in his usually confident demeanor. For a moment, you’re at a loss for words, the usual witty retort failing to come to mind.

“Honest?” You echo, your voice barely above a whisper. “You want honesty?”

Heeseung nods, his expression a mixture of frustration and desperation.

You take a deep breath, weighing your words carefully. “Then what do you want me to say, Heeseung? That I enjoy the attention? That I like knowing I have this power over you? Because I do,” you rant, before lowering your gaze slightly. “But it’s not just that.”

His doe eyes widen slightly at your confession, but he remains silent, urging you to continue.

“The reason I act this way, Heeseung, is because I don’t want to end up like every other girl that you fuck and never talk to again.” You stop yourself, your heart beating fast. “I don’t want to a trophy you flaunt with your friends.”

Heeseung’s face tightens with a mix of frustration and pain at your words, although he can’t but feel a wave of discomfort as he acknowledges the way you think of him.

“You think that I would treat you like that?”

You hold his gaze, your expression serious. “Do you know why Jake didn’t tell you about me and him having sex?”

Heeseung can’t help but retort at the mention of his best friend, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s because he respects me, Heeseung. He knows I’m not just some conquest to be bragged about. I’m a person with feelings, and he wouldn’t betray my trust like that.”

What comes off of Heeseung’s mouth leaves you taken aback, his words cutting through you like a knife.

“No, that’s not true,” he says, his tone firm. “He didn’t tell me because he’s a coward. He’s a coward that couldn’t tell me, his best friend, he’s having sex with the girl he knows I’ve liked for so long.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you speechless. You never thought Jake’s silence could be interpreted in such a way, and the realization leaves you reeling. You’re torn between disbelief and hurt, unsure of how to respond.

Heeseung’s words hang heavy in the air, his anger palpable as he continues. “When Jay told me about you and him, I was raging. I was so fucking angry that I almost punched him in the face. But then it all started to make sense… When I realized that Jake’s friendship with you was sudden and oddly close.”

His confession sends a chill down your spine, your mind racing as you try to process his words. The pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place, and you can’t help but feel a sense of betrayal.

Your voice trembles slightly as you speak, your words laced with urgency and desperation. “Heeseung… whatever Jay told you about me, he’s exaggerating. He’s trying to come back at me… he… he’s always done it.” You pause, gathering your thoughts, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders.

Heeseung’s gaze softens, a hint of understanding in his eyes. “I know,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s why I wasn’t mad at you. Well… I took it out on you, but I was angry at Jake.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his confession, the revelation taking you by surprise. “And I guess I couldn’t help but feel jealous that he had you instead of me,” he adds, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

The raw honesty in his words leaves you momentarily speechless – you knew he has always wanted you, but hearing him say it out loud left you shivering.

Then, a chuckle coming from your lips breaks the fallen silence.

“Don’t act like you can’t have any girl that you want,” you retort, tone harsh.

Heeseung’s expression softens, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “But I want you,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve always wanted you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, his words hanging in the air like a delicate melody. For a moment, time seems to stand still as you’re left stunned by the weight of his confession.

The vulnerability in his eyes is palpable, drawing you in despite your hesitancy. A part of you longs to surrender to the warmth of his gaze, to allow yourself to be enveloped by the raw intensity of his desire.

But years of caution and self-preservation hold you back, a voice of reason whispering in the back of your mind. You take a step back, your expression guarded as you process his words.

He notices your hesitancy, almost closing the distance between the two of you as he holds your gaze with all his mighty.

“My reputation precedes me, it’s true,” he starts. “I’ve fucked many girls, trying to forget about you, but believe when I say that especially in those moments, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Your chuckle carries a note of sarcasm as his words sink in. “Am I supposed to be flattered?” you retort, your tone sharp and laced with bitterness.

“No, fuck– no.” He tries to come up with the right words, visibly struggling.

Heeseung takes a step closer, his expression pained as he searches for the right words. "I didn't mean it like that," he says hurriedly, his voice tinged with desperation. "I just... I want you to know how much you've consumed me. How much I've fought against this… obsession I have for you, only to realize I can't escape it."

His confession hangs heavy in the air, and for a moment, the balcony feels suffocatingly small. You stare at him, eyes widening as you feel powerless in front of such vulnerability.

“I just want you to put an end to my torment," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

His words leave you speechless, your heart beating faster as suddenly, you feel the urge to get closer to him, body almost closing the proximity between the two of you.

“And how I’m supposed to do that?”

The tension crackles in the air between you, thick and palpable. Heeseung’s gaze holds yours, intense and pleading, as he takes a step closer, bridging the gap between you.

“Let me have you,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the party. His words hang in the air, heavy with desire.

Your heart races at his request, conflicting emotions swirling inside you. You’re torn between the allure of his offer and the knowledge of the consequences it could bring.

But in this moment, with the darkness of the night wrapping around you like a cloak, it’s easy to forget about the world outside, to succumb to the intoxicating pull of his presence.

“Just for tonight,” he adds, his voice a whisper against your ear. The words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you.

You pull back slightly, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. But all you see is a raw, unfiltered desire, mingled with a vulnerability you've never seen in him before. Your heart pounds, the internal conflict raging within you.

Heeseung's gaze doesn't waver. "Please," he breathes, his voice breaking slightly, the plea hanging in the air between you.

You bite your lip, your mind racing – but the magnetic pull you feel towards him, the intoxicating mix of anger, passion, and curiosity, is too strong to resist. Your breath hitches as you look up at him, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes mirroring your own.

And then, before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you, your hand reaching up to grasp the back of his neck. The intensity of your touch sends a jolt through him, his eyes widening slightly before they flutter shut.

You pull him down, your lips crashing into his. The kiss is fierce and desperate, your fingers tangling in his hair as you press closer, your bodies melding together in a heated embrace.

Heeseung responds instantly, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you even tighter against him. His lips move against yours with a fervent intensity, matching your own.

Your kiss deepens, becoming more insistent, more urgent. His hands roam over your back, memorizing every curve, every inch of you. You can feel the raw need in his touch, the way he clings to you as if yu the only thing keeping him grounded.

You hear him moan against your lips, desperation guiding his movements as his hands slide down your back, fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you even closer, if that's even possible.

Heeseung's lips leave yours, trailing a path down your jawline to your neck. He presses a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his breath ragged and filled with need.

The sensation sends shivers down your spine, making you gasp softly. “Mhmmm,” you moan at the pleasurable sensation.

“Yeah?” His tone is dangerously low, his teeth biting your soft skin enticingly.

"Let me treat you good, pretty," he murmurs against your neck, his voice a mix of dominance and desperation. His words send a thrill through you, igniting a fire deep within. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

His lips find yours again, the kiss more intense, more commanding this time. Heeseung's hands roam over your body with desperation, pressing you harder against him.

His hands slide under your dress, caressing your skin with a tenderness that contrasts sharply with the hunger in his kiss. “Heeseung– ah…”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. You can feel his need for you, his desperation to prove himself, and it stirs something deep within you.

Heeseung pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he gazes into your eyes. "Please," he whimpes, his voice barely audible but laced with urgency. "Let me show you how much I want you.”

His plea hangs in the air, and you can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the raw honesty of his emotions.

In this moment, Heeseung isn't the confident, cocky Quidditch star; he's a madman standing before you, willing to give his body to you, begging for a chance to prove his worth.

“Let me prove to you that I’m worth it.”

You barely notice what happens around you as the transition from the balcony to the bedroom turns into a blur of heated kisses and hurried footsteps.

The moment you step into the room, Heeseung's hands are on you again, his touch more urgent, more desperate. He closes the door behind him, shutting out the world and leaving only the two of you in the dim light.

A yelp escapes your lips as you feel his big hands grabbing the flesh of your ass, pushing you further against him, feeling his hardness poking in his pants.

You leave his lips, pampering his neck with kisses as you purposely press yourself further while his knees go weak at the pleasurable sensation.

Heeseung's breath hitches, his grip tightening on your ass as he pulls you even closer. "God, you drive me crazy," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. His hands slide up your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine, sending shivers down your skin.

Heeseung's hand goes down your dress and he moans appreciatively as he feels the rough fabric of your panties. “Fuck, baby…”

His movements are desperate, playing with your wetness as you try your best not to buckle under his touch. Your breath hitches, and you can feel the heat pooling between your legs, the ache for him growing unbearable.

But you refuse to let him have the upper hand.

With a sudden burst of determination, you push him onto the bed, your eyes locking with his in a fiery gaze. Heeseung's expression shifts from surprise to anticipation, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You walk towards him, hips moving sensually as his breath catches in his throat as he stares at your perfect body. Your dress rises slightly the more you sway your hips, his eyes fixating on your curves.

You reach him, standing tall in front of his desperate figure and he wastes no time in placing his hands on your hips, but you hit them harshly.

He whines at your action, a small pout appearing on his face as his doe, begging eyes stare into you in a pleading manner.

“No touching,” you instruct, your tone lower. “Just watch me.”

Slowly, teasingly, you begin to undress in front of him, your movements deliberate and sensual.

You start by slipping the straps of your dress off your shoulders, letting the fabric slide down your body inch by tantalizing inch. His eyes darken with desire as he watches you, his hands clenching at his sides, resisting the urge to reach out and touch you.

His breath hitches, his eyes fixed on you with a burning intensity. He bites his lip, his body tensing with restraint as you continue your slow striptease.

A small smirk appears on his face as he notices your red set of lingerie, trying his best not to pounce on you – you’ve always look beautiful, but Heeseung is sure red makes you look absolutely stunning.

You unclasp your bra, letting it fall away to reveal your bare breasts, your nipples hardening under his gaze. You see the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes flicker with raw need.

“Fuck me…” he moans to himself, clearly enjoying the view as he palms himself through his pants.

You start playing with your nipples, tugging at them as you continue moving your hips in a tantalising manner.

Then, you hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly, savoring every moment of his tortured longing.

Standing completely naked before him, you take a step closer, your body illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the window. You can see the way his eyes trace the curves of your body, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath.

You turn around, giving him a glimpse of your ass as you reach for him, your hands finding his thighs as you start to move against his growing erection.

He groans loudly, eyes locked on your bare ass as he tries his best not to spank you red. He’s so focused on the swaying of your hips that he barely hears your question.

“Did you like seeing me dance?”

Heeseung's breath hitches, his fingers digging into his palms as he struggles to maintain control. "You know I did," he rasps, his voice thick with desire. "You drove me insane."

A satisfied smirk tugs at your lips. "Good," you purr, grinding against him with deliberate slowness. “Although the Heeseung I know would have joined me.”

Heeseung's eyes darken with desire at your words "Oh, believe me, I wanted to," he growls. "But watching you was its own kind of torture."

You get up from his lap, turning around to look at his handsome face as his chest heavies up and down.

You chuckle, a seductive sound that sends a shiver down his spine. "And now?" you tease, your fingers trailing down his chest. "Are you going to keep watching, or are you going to do something about it?"

Heeseung’s eyes darken with the desire, and a part of him just wants to push you on the bed and take you completely, claiming you as his as he has his way with you.

But instead, his desperation and need for you cloud his dominance, making him a begging mess.

“Please…”

A wicked smile curls your lips as you see the vulnerability in his eyes. You take charge, pushing him back onto the bed with a determined force. "Since you asked so nicely," you purr, straddling his chest and slowly moving up, your eyes never leaving his.

Heeseung's breath hitches as you position yourself above him, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he anticipates your next move.

The sight of you, so powerful and commanding, sends a jolt of arousal through him.

Without another word, you lower yourself onto his face, your movements deliberate and controlled. Heeseung's groan vibrates against you, his tongue wasting no time as he eagerly explores your folds while you start to ride his face with a sensual rhythm.

"Mhmm Heeseung," you murmur, your fingers tangling in his hair as you guide his movements. "Just like that..."

The scent and taste of you flood his senses, and he feels a primal need to devour you completely. Each flick of his tongue, each eager lap, is driven by an insatiable desire to please you, to make you lose control.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groans against you, his voice muffled but filled with raw hunger. Heeseung's thoughts are consumed by you – your taste, your scent, the way your body moves above him.

His tongue moves with increasing fervor, tracing patterns that make your body shiver with pleasure. Heeseung can't get enough, his hands gripping your thighs tightly, guiding your movements.

"I've dreamed about this," he breathes out between licks, his voice thick with desire. "Every time I touched another girl, I wished it was you. Only you."

Your soft moans turn him on even more, and he starts moving faster, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch of you. The way you respond to him, the way you ride his face with such sensual grace, drives him insane.

You throw you head back, strings of moans escaping your lips shamelessly loud. “Yes, Heeseung… ah– just like that, don’t stop!”

"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs against you, his voice trembling with intensity. "I want to make you come so hard, baby. I want to hear you scream my name."

Heeseung's world narrows down to the taste of you, the sounds you make, and the way your body responds to him. Each moan, each gasp, fuels his desire, driving him to push you higher and higher until you can't take it anymore. He's desperate to see you lose control, to know that he's the one making you feel this way.

You take a deep breath, savoring the feeling of Heeseung's eager mouth on you. You start to grind your hips against his face harder, setting a deliberate pace, making sure he can't escape your dominance.

"Just like that," you moan, your voice thick with pleasure. "Keep going, Heeseung."

Heeseung's hands tighten on your thighs, his tongue working frantically to please you. His thoughts are a haze of lust and need, each flick of his tongue driven by the desire to make you come undone.

"God, it’s true what they say," you murmur, your fingers tightening in his hair. "You’re so good at this– fuck!”

Heeseung groans against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. His thoughts are a chaotic mix of pleasure and frustration. He wants more, needs more, but he's completely at your mercy.

"Don't stop!" you command, your voice rising. "I'm so close, Heeseung. Don't you dare stop."

Heeseung's eyes flutter closed, the sensation overwhelming him. He wants to see you come undone, to feel you lose control. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue moving with frenzied urgency, determined to push you over the edge.

"Fuck, Heeseung!" you cry out, your body tensing as you finally reach your peak, your voice louder as you moan in ecstasy.

Heeseung feels a rush of triumph as you climax, your body trembling above him. He continues to lap at you, savoring the taste of your release, his hands gripping your thighs possessively.

As you come down from your high, you look down at him, your breath still ragged. "You did so good,” you murmur, your fingers gently stroking his hair.

Heeseung's heart swells at your praise, knowing that he’s the one who made you feel this way.

You climb off Heeseung's face, leaving him panting and dazed from the intensity of your release. His lips are glistening, eyes dark with lingering desire. You smirk down at him, a sense of power coursing through you as you take in his vulnerable state.

"You did so good," you purr, your voice soft but commanding. "You deserve a reward, don't you?"

Heeseung nods eagerly, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His thoughts are a mix of anticipation and desperation, each beat of his heart echoing with the need for your touch.

You push him further on the bed, his head falling on the pillow as you eagerly take his shirt off. You trail your fingers down his bare chest, savoring the way his muscles twitch under your touch.

Slowly, you work your way down to the waistband of his pants, teasing him with light, feathery touches that make him shiver.

"Please, baby..." Heeseung's voice is barely a whisper, filled with raw need.

You chuckle softly, enjoying the sight of him so undone beneath you. "Patience," you murmur, your fingers finally slipping beneath the fabric to free his hardness.

You let out an appreciative hun at the sight of his big, hard cock and Heeseung groans as you wrap your hand around him, his hips bucking instinctively into your touch. You stroke him slowly, savoring the way his breath hitches, the way his eyes darken with lust.

"You're so eager," you tease, your thumb circling the tip of his cock, smearing the bead of pre-cum that's gathered there.

Heeseung's response is a strangled moan, his hands gripping the sheets as he fights to maintain control.

You lean down, your breath hot against his skin as you press a kiss to the tip of his cock. Heeseung's entire body tenses, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Do you want me to make you feel good, Heeseung?" you whisper, your lips brushing against him with each word.

"Yes," he breathes, his voice hoarse with desire. “Fuck, please... I want nothing more."

You smile, your tongue flicking out to taste him.

Heeseung's reaction is immediate, a deep, guttural moan tearing from his throat. His hands fly to your hair, tangling in the strands as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth.

You take your time, savoring the feel of him against your tongue, the taste of him on your lips. You start slow, your mouth moving over him with precision, each motion designed to drive him wild – he’s never felt anything like this, the intensity of your touch driving him to the edge of his control.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his hips bucking involuntarily as you take him deeper.

You hum around him, the vibration sending shivers down his spine. You increase your pace, taking him deeper, your hand working in unison with your mouth to push him closer to the edge.

Heeseung can't help but grab a handful of your hair, tightening his grip as you temptingly move your body, hovering over one of his thighs as you put your weight on it. The sensation sends a shiver down his spine, and he bites his lip, trying to hold back a moan.

You start grinding yourself on his thigh, your wetness smearing against his skin. The feeling of your arousal against his thigh and the sound of your moans against his dick make his mind swirl with desire.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice low and rough.

Suddenly, you feel a change in Heeseung’s demeanour, his begging state becoming less evident as his voice becomes steadied and rougher.

"You're so wet for me. Do you like that, baby? Grinding on my thigh while you suck me off?"

You hum in response, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through him. Heeseung's grip in your hair tightens, his hips bucking slightly into your mouth.

"That's it, baby. Keep going. Show me how much you want it."

You grind harder against his thigh, your movements becoming more desperate as you chase your own pleasure. Heeseung's eyes darken with lust as he watches you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"God, you're so fucking hot," he pants, his hands roaming over your back, down to your ass, encouraging your movements.

His words drive you wild, your dominance faltering as you struggle to continue sucking his cock.

You moan around him, the sound muffled as you take him deeper into your mouth. Heeseung's head falls back, a guttural moan escaping his lips as the sensation overwhelms him.

"Fuck, just like that," he growls, his voice filled with desperation. "You're so good, baby. So fucking good. Keep going. Fuck– what a fucking wet pussy…”

Your movements become frantic, your arousal slickening his thigh as you grind against him with increasing fervor. The feeling of his hard cock in your mouth, combined with the pressure on your clit, drives you to the brink of ecstasy.

His grip tightens in your hair, hips thrusting up into your mouth as he gets lost in the pleasure.

"Fuck, baby. That's it. You're so fucking perfect." Heeseung groans loudly, the sensation pushing him closer to his own release.

But he’s far from finished; he wants to prolong it, to feel you entirely. He didn’t wait so long just to cum in your mouth without savouring the tightness and warmth of your cunt first.

Heeseung's eyes darken with determination as he takes a deep breath, shifting his grip on you.

With a swift, powerful motion, he flips you onto your back, his body looming over yours. The sudden dominance in his actions sends a thrill through you, your breath catching as you stare up at him.

"I’m not done with you." Heeseung's voice is low, almost a growl, as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand, his other hand trailing down your body. "I've waited too long for this. I'm going to take my time, make you feel every second of it."

You shiver under his touch, your body arching towards him as he slides his hand between your legs, his fingers teasing your entrance. He watches your reactions intently, a smirk tugging at his lips as he feels your wetness.

"God, you're so ready for me," he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and lust. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to think of anyone else."

Heeseung positions himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours as teases with the head of his cock. He moves his gaze down your cunt, a broken moan leaving his lips at the sight.

He can’t help but stare at you in awe, the desperation, longing and need he had for you for all this years leading him to this very moment.

Heeseung is no new to winning, but this is a prize that he never thought he could achieve – but here you are now, legs spread in front of him as you give yourself to him entirely.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he breathes out, his voice trembling with a mix of dominance and desperation.

Heeseung's fingers dig into your hips as he lines himself up, his eyes filled with an intense, almost feral hunger.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "How many nights l've dreamed of being inside you, making you mine."

“Then take me,” you voice is hoarse, your chest heaving up and down in anticipation. “Before I take you instead.”

Your tone is teasing, a smirk appearing on your face as Heeseung laughs at your self-assuredness. "Yeah?" he says, his eyes darkening with desire.

“You think you can play with me?"

Heeseung's grip tightens on your hips, and in one swift movement, he pushes into you, burying himself to the hilt. The suddenness and intensity of his action take your breath away, your smirk replaced with a gasp of surprise and pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice dripping with a mix of admiration and dominance. "You really thought you could take control? That you could handle me?"

He sets a relentless pace, each thrust powerful and deliberate, hitting you in just the right spots. The force of his movements drives you wild, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

You moan helplessly, his cock hitting you all in the right spots as you tighten your cunt around him.

"God, you feel insane," he groans, his grip on your hips tightening. "So fucking perfect."

Heeseung pauses, savouring the sensation, the way your body clings to him, warm and wet and inviting. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me."

"I want you, Heeseung," you gasp, your voice trembling with need. "I want you so fucking much."

His body is pervaded by a sense of warmth at your words – the same words he always dreamed of hearing.

A low, satisfied growl escapes his lips, and he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace instead.

Each thrust is controlled, powerful, designed to drive you wild with desire. "That's it, pretty," he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. "Take me. Take every inch of me."

His words, his touch, everything about him drives you closer to the edge. You can feel his desperation, his need, in every movement, every thrust. Heeseung's hands roam over your body, touching, caressing, worshipping.

"You're mine tonight," he growls, his voice filled with possessiveness. "Mine to fuck, mine to pleasure. No one else can have you like this."

His words leaves you speechless, eyes rolling back as you struggle to say a coherent word.

His eyes bore into yours, filled with a predatory hunger that makes your heart race. "You’re just a needy little thing, aren't you? So desperate to be fucked." He whispers harshly, his breath hot against your skin

Each thrust is punctuated with a string of dirty, teasing words, designed to push you further into a frenzy of desire. "Look at you," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "Moaning and squirming under me. You thought you could handle this, but you're just a little slut for my cock, aren't you?"

The intensity of his movements, combined with his words, drives you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel the buildup, the tightening in your core, the way your body responds to his dominance.

“Heeseung– fuck… I’m so fucking close!” you gasp, your body quivering with the intensity of your impeding orgasm.

But just as you're about to tip over the edge, Heeseung stops, pulling out of you with a wicked grin. "Not yet, pretty," he whispers, his voice a mix of teasing and dominance. "I'm not done with you."

He effortlessly flips you over onto your hands and knees, positioning you exactly how he wants you. The anticipation builds as you feel the head of his cock teasing your entrance once more.

Heeseung's hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he thrusts back into you, deeper this time, eliciting a cry of pleasure from your lips.

The new angle sends jolts of pleasure through your body, and you can't help but arch your back, pressing against him. His pace is relentless, each thrust precise and powerful, driving you wild with desire.

As you move together, your eyes catch sight of the large mirror on the wall beside his bed. The reflection takes your breath away – you can see every movement, every thrust of his hips, the way his muscles flex with each powerful motion. The sight is intoxicating, amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

You focus on the sensual movement of his hips, strings of moans shamelessly leaving you lips as you stare at him through the mirror.

Heeseung notices your gaze, and a smirk plays on his lips. "Like what you see?" he asks, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"Look at yourself, baby. Look at how good you take me."

The sight of your own reflection, combined with his dirty talk, sends you spiraling closer to the edge once more. His thrusts become even more intense, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives into you with a primal need.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growls, his eyes fixed on the mirror. "Seeing you like this, seeing how desperate you are for me... it drives me insane."

You can't tear your eyes away from the mirror, from the way he fucks you with such raw passion and dominance. The way his hips move, so sensual yet powerful, leaves you breathless.

Heeseung's hands grip your hips tighter, and without warning, he delivers a sharp spank to your ass, the sting sending a delicious jolt of pain and pleasure through your body. "You have no idea how long l've waited for this," he growls, his voice thick with lust and desire. "How long I've waited for you."

He spanks you again, harder this time, the sound echoing through the room. The sensation intensifies the pleasure, and you can't help but moan loudly, your body arching into his touch. His fingers dig into your flesh, leaving marks that you will surely find in the morning.

"You've teased me for so long," he continues, his thrusts becoming more forceful, each one driving you closer to the edge. "But tonight– ah, fuck! … tonight you're mine, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

His words send shivers down your spine, the dominance in his voice igniting a fire within you.

Every thrust, every spank, every word he utters is like fuel to the flames, driving you wild with need.

"You like this, don't you?" Heeseung's voice is low and rough, a perfect match for the way he's fucking you. "You like being fucked like this, being treated like the needy little slut you are."

His words push you further into a haze of pleasure, your mind barely able to process anything other than the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. The combination of his rough, demanding thrusts and his dirty talk has you on the brink of insanity.

"Heeseung," you gasp, your voice barely a whisper as you struggle to hold on. "I'm so close..."

His grip on your hips tightens, and he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "No, pretty, not yet,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of dominance and desperate need.

“We’re going to cum together.”

The intensity of his thrusts increases, each one hitting deeper, harder, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. Your senses are heightened, every touch, every sound magnified as you feel yourself closer to the edge.

The feeling of his thick cock filling you completely, the way his hips slam against you with such raw power – it’s almost too much to bear.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the urge to let go, to surrender to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. His hand slides down to your clit, rubbing it in tight, urgent circles, pushing you closer and closer to the brink. The combination of his rough, demanding thrusts and the skilled movements of his fingers has you trembling with need.

"Heeseung," you whimper, your body quaking with the effort to hold back. "I can't... I can't hold on..."

"You can," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "You're going to wait for me, pretty. We're coming together."

As he says that, Heeseung's thrusts become more frantic, more erratic, as he too nears the edge. You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten, the way his breath quickens.

"Heeseung, fuckfuckfuck!" you yell, feeling your own climax building.

His voice is rough and urgent as he responds, "I know, pretty. I'm close, too. Fuck, I'm so close." His movements become even more desperate, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

"Cum with me," he commands, his voice a strained whisper. "I want to feel you come apart around me."

The intensity of his thrusts is almost overwhelming, the sensation of his cock hitting deep inside you sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

"You're so tight, so fucking perfect," he groans, his words a mix of praise and desperation. "I want to feel you squeeze me when you cum. Come on, baby, let go for me."

His hand moves to your clit, rubbing it in tight, urgent circles, pushing you closer and closer to the brink. Strings of moans and calls of his name leave your lips, your body trembling entirely.

"That's it," he growls, his voice filled with raw desire. "Cum for me, pretty. Cum with me."

With one final, powerful thrust, Heeseung pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you like the strongest wave, your entire body shaking with the force of it. As you cry out his name, you feel him release inside you, his own climax hitting him hard.

He whimpers loudly, his grip on your hips tightening as he spills into you, filling you completely. The sound is almost desperate, a raw expression of the longing he's harbored for so long.

"Yesyesyes, fuck that's it," he moans, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Fuck, holy shit– you’re such a good girl– ah! … take it all."

For a moment, the world seems to stand still.

The only sounds are your ragged breaths and the rapid beating of your hearts. Heeseung slowly pulls out of you, collapsing onto the bed beside you. He looks at your precious body, your chest heaving up and down as he savours the sight that haunted his dreams for so long.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. "Completely fucked out and still so damn gorgeous."

You chuckle, a tired but satisfied sound, turning your head to meet his gaze. "Feeling proud of yourself?" you tease back, a smirk playing on your lips.

Heeseung's eyes darken with desire, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "More than you know," he replies, his hand trailing down your body. "But I think you enjoyed it just as much, didn't you?"

You bite your lip, the playful gleam in your eyes not fading. "Mhm… maybe," you say, your voice a sultry, teasing whisper.

Heeseung leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Oh, come on," he coaxes, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You can admit it. You loved every minute of it."

You arch an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "And what if I did?" you tease back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Does that stroke your ego enough?"

Heeseung chuckles, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. "Oh, it's more than enough," he murmurs, his eyes smoldering with desire. "But don't worry, pretty. I’ll be sure to give you plenty more to enjoy. I plan on having you again. And again, and again."

You shiver at his words, the promise of more sending a thrill through you. "Is that so?" you challenge, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "You think you can handle me?"

Heeseung chuckles, his confidence unwavering. "I know I can," he responds, his hand slipping between your legs – feeling your wetness – to tease you once more. "And I’ll prove it to you every chance I get."

You gasp at the sudden touch, your body responding eagerly. "We'll see about that," you whisper, your voice filled with anticipation.

Heeseung's grin widens, his eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, you’ll see,” he promises, his voice filled with determination. "And by the end of the night, you'll be begging for more."

You roll your eyes playfully, but the excitement bubbling inside you is undeniable. "Prove it," you challenge, a daring smile on your lips.

Heeseung's eyes flash with determination, and he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against yours. "Challenge accepted," he murmurs, not wasting any time as he gets on top of you.

Turns out that other than being a champion, Heeseung is often true to his words; the rest of the night is spent in each other’s arms, your bodies fighting tiredness as you continue to fuck without any sign to stop.

By the early morning, you’re both left without energy, soon falling into a deep sleep.

After a few hours, Heeseung can’t help but notice the morning light filter through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room as he slowly blinks his eyes open. For a moment, he revels in the warmth of the bed, before he turns around with an outstretched arm.

Only to find no one else besides him.

Confusion clouds his thoughts as he sits up, running a hand through his tousled hair as he looks around the room.

There's no trace of you, no sign that you were ever there except for the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air. Heeseung tries his best to push aside the twinge of disappointment that pervades him, despite him knowing your intentions.

He almost throws himself back on the bed but then, his gaze falls on the edge of the bed, and he notices something out of place – a piece of red lingerie, folded neatly as if placed there intentionally. His heart skips a beat as he reaches out to pick it up, the familiar fabric slipping through his fingers.

He chuckles to himself as he plays with it. “Little tease,” he murmurs, knowing that yours was nothing more than a teasing way to remind him that he can’t have all of you.

But rather than deter him, this realization only fuels his determination. He knows he’s won this battle, but he’s well aware that the war is far from over.

After all, Heeseung is not one to shy away from a challenge, especially when it comes to something – or someone – he desires.

He’ll continue to pursue you, to show you that he’s worthy of your affection.

He’ll prove that he’s more than just a fleeting conquest – because one thing is certain: he’ll never give up until he’s claimed his ultimate prize.

You.

— TAGLIST ; @yvesgff @moonlighthoon @lurking-coconut @sadgirltia @laylascornerr @hoonxclsvly @grungiejaems @siyen @violevantae @jakedoxxenvasion @zerasari @realuvwon @soobiverse @kaykay11sworld @hotsforikeu @sjakewrld @amortapes @hybeboyenthusisast @jasukewonnn @luvellexwon @tety1020-blog @sweetjaemss @lxinuu @lillotus17 @cutesiepatootsie @jaylaxies @baekxo07 @janehrtt @seapug-protecc @xyzyours @underneaththestarlight @wonryllis @wannabeisekai @hyunniesvlog @eluffi @loves0ft @jayhyunglover @ilychee08 @emily505 @outofst1le @capri-cuntz @jsopinha @artstaeh @yunjinswifee @ivsjake4evr @jaehmarks @cynicalbitch666 @woniebae @ariadores @saranghaesvt @maymarylhs @tasilisa @heelusional4u @nyfwyeonjun @hybe02z @itsnikitty @dopedels @yawnzzhoon @prettygurlnikittie @linospace @heeseungspookie

---

the amount of butterflies i got while reading is a little concerning

evermore 

evermore — one shot [ general masterlist ]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors, please do not interact!!

• hyunjin x female reader; lee know, jeongin and seungmin are featured.

• non idol au, coffee shop au (sort of), hints of soulmate au. slow burn (as much as can be in a one shot lol), mutual pining, angst, smut. — unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), sex in an (empty) public place, creampie.

• word count: 12.9k

Evermore. A café that is also a bookstore. A place where you can sit down with a book, sip delicious coffee, slip away from reality. Evermore is your favorite place. For the coffee, for the books, for Hyunjin.

• author’s note: I am very excited and nervous to share this one-shot with you. I hope I can do justice to our dear Hyunjin and that you enjoy reading it. If you can grab a warm drink and a blanket to set the mood ♡

Dedicated to @straywrds ♡ thank you for being in my life.

It was summer and you came every Tuesday. 

It was the season of iced americanos and lemonade, the sunshine reflecting on the windows and filling the place with light. People came in to grab a cold drink, maybe a cookie, and strolled back outside. They borrowed books to read under the sun or bought a few for their vacation. It was a hot and humid summer, of lazy evenings that stretched into unforgettable nights. Hyunjin liked to keep the place open later in the summer, as late as the ice cream place next door. Sometimes, after having indulged in a dessert, people liked to grab a coffee to get the taste of sugar off their tongue. 

On Tuesdays he would glance at the door just before two, waiting for you. You never failed to show up. You got your iced coffee, which you took with just a few drops of vanilla soy milk, and sat down at your favorite table, the one in the corner, close to the History section. You would spend the next two hours or so going through a book, slowly sipping your beverage, and you would determine if you wanted to buy it or not. Sometimes you did, sometimes you didn’t. Hyunjin didn’t mind. It was the whole concept of the place. 

People could read as much as they wanted as long as they bought a drink or a snack. The books were there to be read. They could be bought, but not borrowed. There were plenty of places to sit, tables and couches and armchairs. On the floor were laid large carpets furnished with cushions. There was always coffee and food available. 

Hyunjin was proud of his book café. 

He was even more proud to see you find solace in it. 

At least that’s what he assumed - why would you come every week, if it wasn’t the case? He saw how your shoulders relaxed as you read, how sometimes you briefly closed your eyes in delight after your first sip of coffee. His favorite thing, after seeing you smile, was to see your brow furrow as you read something that captivated you. Your head would fall forward, your hair brushing your cheeks, and you would completely forget the world around you. 

You didn’t notice him looking at you. 

He wasn’t stalking you. You were just one of his favorite customers. Polite, kind. Pretty. You saw him as more than just the guy with the apron selling him books and coffee. You smiled at him, asked how he was that week. Maybe you did that with everyone, but he still liked it. He would find himself giving you the cookie from the freshest batch, or brewing a new pitcher of his best coffee just before came in. He would forget to charge you extra for the vanilla soy milk. 

He was a whole cliché mess but he did not care. You brought softness to his days. Solace to the routine. He made this place for people like you. But it was even more than that. In fact, sometimes, he became convinced he created it specifically for you. Perhaps that was going too far, but Hyunjin had never been a reasonable man. He was a romantic through and through, and he did not care about the logic of things. He liked the poetry of you, composed one verse at a time each summer Tuesday. 

One week the air conditioning broke. It got hot real fast, and Hyunjin already had a layer of sweat on his skin when you came in at two o’clock. You were wearing denim shorts and a tank top. You chuckled amusingly, and said to him, quite hot today, isn’t it? He suggested coming another time because it would be uncomfortable but you didn’t care. You paid for your beverage and sat at your usual spot. You gathered your hair together and secured it with a clip - a few strands of hair stuck to the back of your neck  and Hyunjin stared at them. He wiped the sweat off his brow, and tried to focus on work. 

About half an hour later you came back to the counter and asked for an empty glass full of ice cubes. Don’t worry, you told him. I won’t get the books wet. Hyunjin trusted you - he gave you the ice cubes with a smile, licking the sweat off his lips. At first he thought you just wanted to let them melt in your mouth, but you surprised him. 

He watched as you took the ice cubes in your hands, placed them against your skin and let them melt there. Sometimes you put them on your neck, sometimes on your cheek. He was never as distracted as that afternoon, admiring the ice turn into water on your skin, sliding down your arm or your collarbone. He imagined following the trail with his finger. Or with his tongue, maybe. 

That sent a shiver up his spine. 

He had to relieve his throbbing cock in the bathroom of the café, eyes shut against the image of you panting beside him, his skin sticky and his thoughts tangled together. 

He wasn’t obsessed with you. You were just so soothing. Something about you made him want to stare for hours, a lazy smile upon his lips, appeased. 

He barely knew anything about you, which was fine. It’s not even that he wanted to know everything. Of course he liked when you told him things - he reveled in every new information you revealed, but he savored them like candy. Piece by piece, letting them melt on his tongue to a syrup, at a slow and steady rhythm. He was not interested in rushing things. From time to time you told him about you, and from time to time he told you about him. 

You were a harpist. You played with an orchestra and gave lessons at the nearby music school. On Tuesdays your last lesson ended at 1:45, which gave you the rest of the afternoon to relax. The café was your favorite place to do that. 

Hyunjin told you he opened the café a few years ago with the help of a friend. He had never much ambition except having his own place to take care of. For a long time he hesitated between a café and a bookstore, and eventually settled on a place that served as both. His only regret was to not make it a cat café - but it was never too late. Maybe in a few years, he told you once with a shy laugh. 

By all accounts, you were single. You did not have a ring around your finger, and you never mentioned a boyfriend. But maybe you were just private about it. Maybe you were casually dating. It wasn’t any of his business. 

Hyunjin was not single. He had been in his relationship for a year and thought he was in love. But you changed everything. 

That was how a heart was supposed to beat, he realized. 

That was the ecstatic rhythm of a healthy and blissful heart.  

He told himself he would break up with his girlfriend and ask you out before the end of the summer. Each week he told himself, next Tuesday. I’ll do it next Tuesday. But he never did, and time slipped through his fingers like sand. 

Summer faded away and you stopped coming.

You look up at the sign and smile to yourself. Evermore. So accurately named. You haven’t been in there in forever, it seems, and to a certain extent it has. Months. Back then it was summer and you spent a few hours there every week. Never missed a Tuesday. The doors used to be left wide open and you could smell coffee from meters away. 

Now the snow creaks under the soles of your boots and the doors are shut. It is cold today and you bury your nose in your scarf. 

It is not Tuesday, but you have nothing planned and you are dying for a warm cup of coffee and a good book. You haven’t done that in ages. You miss it. Surely, he won’t remember you. Surely, it’s been long enough for him to forget. 

You pull the handle of the door and enter the café. Immediately you smell the familiar smells, coffee and sugar and cinnamon, mellow music playing on the speakers. You wipe your boots on the carpet and head to the counter, gazing around, smiling to yourself. It’s as you remember, the floorboards creaking under your feet, the seemingly endless rows of books, the quiet noise of conversation.

Him. 

You see him, behind the counter, busy cleaning a machine. He hasn’t noticed you. He still looks the same, his thin chocolate hair grazing his ears, his apron tied around his waist. It’s the first time you see him in a sweater. It looks soft, a creamy beige color, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His wide hands are quick and agile. You swallow, trying to steady your erratic heartbeat. 

He probably doesn’t remember you. 

You have only been strangers, after all. 

The place is quiet and comforting. During summer days it was the breeze upon your cheek, and now it’s like stepping inside a warm, familiar room. It feels like you could find a fireplace in the corner, your mother’s gingerbread cookies, your favorite slippers. How can it feel so much like home if you haven’t been here in months? 

You loosen your scarf and unbutton your coat, stepping closer to the counter.

“Hi,” you say, trying not to sound too nervous. 

He turns around, meeting your eyes. They immediately sweep you off your feet, and you’re glad the cold has already reddened your cheeks, because Hyunjin looks even more celestial than before. Eyes like the deepest night sky, lips the most delicate shade of pink. They looked a little damaged, chapped, probably because of the cold, but they are still inviting. His hair is longer, tickling the collar of his sweater, but shorter strands graze his eyebrows. He looks at you like you can’t really be here - but before you can try to understand what it means, he swallows and smiles timidly at you. 

“It’s you,” he breathes. 

And you thought he wouldn’t recognize you. So much for that. Your words completely evade you, and you feel a little silly, standing there. 

“I - I haven’t seen you in so long,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his head, looking nervous. 

“I was away,” you tell him simply. “I came back just a couple of days ago.” 

“Oh,” he nods, “I see. I’m just glad to see you’re okay.” 

You smile, your nervousness fading slightly. “Thanks. I’m happy to be back. I missed this place a lot.” 

Hyunjin blushes, evading your gaze for a moment, and his reaction surprises you so much you have to do the same. You look down at your boots, at the floor, at the display of pastries to your right. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

His voice brings you back to him. You give him a nod, glancing at the menu above his head. It’s a little different than it was this summer, but it’s not much of a surprise. There are so many things you want to try. You hesitate between a few drinks, chewing on your lower lip, trying to make a choice. 

“I’ll have… Oh, God, I can’t choose,” you chuckle. 

Hyunjin’s eyes squeeze into crescents as he smiles amusingly. “I could make you an iced coffee, but it might be a little cold for that.” 

“Definitely,” you answer, smiling widely. “I’ll try the… macchiato?” 

“Coming right up.” 

You lean against the counter as Hyunjin gets to work, preparing your drink. You take the opportunity to look around some more, immersing yourself in your environment. It’s not too busy for a Thursday night, probably because of the cold. You see students working on their computers, a young man browsing books, an older woman reading one, comfortably seated on an armchair with a blanket on her legs.

On the speakers, a gentle piano melody starts to play. You close your eyes, inhaling the smells around you. You feel calm. 

When Hyunjin comes back with your drink, you reach for your wallet but he quickly holds up a palm. 

“Please. It’s on me. To welcome you back.” 

You stammer. “But -” 

“It’s my pleasure.” 

He seems so sincerely happy to offer it to you that you can only smile, giving him a grateful nod. You’re not sure what to say. You glance down at the ceramic mug, filled to the brim with caramel-colored foam, an intricate floral pattern drawn in it. It smells heavenly, and you already know it will be delicious.

“Thank you.” 

“Enjoy.” 

You wish you could stay there with him. Walk around the counter and hang there, catching up with him. You wonder what he’s been up to. How business has been. Why he looks so tired. You want to tell him how seeing him again makes you feel. Like you’ve been away from where you belong. Like you’ve never even left.

But you can’t. You don’t know him, not really. A name, a few silly details. Just bits and pieces, not even enough to be able to call him a friend. So you give him another smile, carefully take the mug in your hands, and search for a table. 

Of course, you don’t really hesitate. You sit at the same table as you did this summer. It offers a perfect view of the busy street ahead, so you can watch people walk by and try to figure out where they come from, where they are going. It also shields you just a little from view, because not a lot of people are interested in the Poetry section. The spot also allows you easy glances at the main counter, so you can watch Hyunjin work. 

So what if you have a little crush on your favorite barista? You don’t see the harm in it. Hyunjin is a handsome, charming guy. He’s your age. He has a successful business. He is kind and soft-spoken. He likes book, has a sweet tooth. He is everything you could ever wish for and convinced you can never have. After all, why would Hyunjin see you? 

But he remembers you. That much you are surprised of. You did come here once a week for a few months, and you had a few conversations, but it was nothing deep, just small talk. But back then he remembered your order and called you by your name. You wonder if he still remembers it now, like you could never forget his. 

Once you remove your coat and scarf, you take a sip of the macchiato and it makes your taste buds dance. It’s the perfect temperature, and just the right amount of spices. Is that a hint of vanilla you taste, too? It’s your favorite flavor. 

You smile to yourself, licking your lips so as to not lose even a drop, and lean back into the chair. Outside the window blows through the freshly fallen snow, twirling it into the air like small tornadoes. 

You could get yourself a book but for now, you just want to look outside and enjoy the feeling of being here. You were anxious it would be a little too different during the winter, but it isn’t. The place has a soul that leaves a permanent imprint, and it whispers Hyunjin’s name. 

Perhaps it isn’t even him. Perhaps it’s this place. You might have ended up projecting the solace it brought you on its owner, as if he is responsible for it. Because what do you know about Hyunjin, apart from a couple of disarrayed fragments? You have no idea who he really is. Perhaps you have been too eager to love. You’ve always so desperately wanted to believe in it. 

You do not love Hyunjin. You love this place and how it makes you feel. And just as you’re about to convince yourself of that, your eyes slide across the room and fall on him. He’s leaning on the counter, facing your way, gnawing on a nail. The sleeves of his sweater are a little too long, and cover most of his hands. He’s looking at you - and when he realizes you’re looking back, smiles nervously and waves. 

You do the same. 

It’s not the first time this has happened. Back during the summer, you’ve surprised his gaze in a similar fashion. But you often just thought he was looking in your general direction - you were sitting next to a large window that opened on a busy street. You never thought much of it. But sometimes it really did feel like he was looking at you. 

Like that hot summer day, when the air conditioning wasn’t working. You had been so desperately hot that day but you didn’t want to leave. Hyunjin had rolled the sleeves of his t-shirt around his shoulders and his arms looked like sculpted marble. You asked for ice cubes, a trick that you had seen your mother do a thousand times, not thinking much of it. But you had caught Hyunjin staring and thought he found you weird, so you stopped, worried you were making a fool of yourself. Luckily, if he did, he didn’t hold it against you. 

You see him now and your heart trembles.

You missed him.

Once you finish your drink and get lost in your thoughts some more, you start to feel tired. You don’t want to spend the rest of your night yawning, and you have to get up early, so you reluctantly slip your coat back on and bring your empty mug to the counter. Hyunjin thanks you with a smile. 

“How was it?” he asks, wide eyes fixed on you.

“Really good,” you nod. “Loved the hint of vanilla.” 

He nods, looking proud. 

“Goodnight,” you tell him, wrapping your scarf around your neck. 

As you turn, Hyunjin’s voice stops you.

“Y/N,” he calls, softly, his voice almost quivering. 

You do your best to keep a steady smile on your lips, but inside of you, your heart feels like it’s just been squeezed tightly. Your name.

He remembers your name. 

“Will I see you on Tuesdays again?” he asks softly. 

You swallow, glancing nervously at your hands. 

“I don’t think so,” you admit. “I have lessons until late that day, starting next week.” 

Is that disappointment you see on his face? You’re not sure. You give him a timid smile, however, accompanied with a shrug. 

“I do have my Wednesdays off, though. So they might become my new Tuesday.” 

He meets your eyes, and you smile perhaps a little too widely. You can’t help it - his eyes are shimmering, his cheeks a soft pink. 

“I’ll see you next Wednesday, then.” 

You allow yourself to drift off in his eyes, just for a second. “See you then.”

It is winter and you come every Wednesday. 

Ever since that night you order the same drink. A strong macchiato with steamed vanilla soy milk. The one he created specifically for you. 

He would probably lie if you asked him, but he did.

You fall in love with his cranberry scones so Hyunjin makes sure they are fresh out of the oven when you pass the door. He discovers your collection of sweaters - his favorite is the color of apricots, the one you pair with golden earrings. He learns that an old friend knitted your scarf back when you were in high school and you wear it every winter since. That your boots are new because the soles of the previous ones were ruined from an evening of intense chewing by your mother’s dog. 

That the reason you disappeared was nothing tragic. You got a provisional contract to play for an orchestra across the country, replacing someone on maternity leave. It was just a few weeks but you stayed for longer, enjoying the time away. 

You needed to clear your mind and see the world, you tell him one Wednesday night. He is sorting books in the aisles when you appear, in search of a new one to read. You start to chat, and he loves the way you lean against the shelves, your arms behind your back, your colored lips telling stories about what you saw. You had a good time there but you missed home, you say. 

Hyunjin could listen to you for hours. 

Your nails are painted the color of cream and your perfume has hints of vanilla. He thought it was bad this summer but this is worse. He can’t stop thinking about you. He wonders what your kitchen looks like, what kind of art you have on your walls. How your hair looks sprayed upon your pillow, if your cheeks are puffed up in the morning. He wants to make you your favorite espresso so it’s the first thing you smell when you wake up, and then perhaps make you come with his tongue. 

He keeps hearing your voice pronouncing his name. He keeps seeing you wrap your scarf around your slender neck. He keeps smelling vanilla everywhere he goes. 

He should probably do something. Ask you out, or at least find a way to discover if you are single. He is, after all. Broke up with his girlfriend after you didn’t come back for a couple of weeks. He couldn’t stand to see her anymore. He didn’t have you, he didn’t want anyone. 

A part of him expects you to show up with someone one day, holding their hand, smiling lovingly at them while waiting for your drinks. He should ask. That’s what anyone would do, after all. He should express his feelings, or find a way to exorcize them out of his body. 

But Hyunjin likes it the way it is. He likes the romance, he thrills on the longing. He likes that time slows down. That he gets a glimpse of you every Wednesday, the colors of winter passing upon your cheeks, and that you remain a mystery. At the same time he feels like he deeply knows you, beyond usual bonds, that you connect on an intangible level. Both a stranger and a soulmate. He’s probably delusional - but he’d rather be a romantic than a realist. 

Today is Saturday and Hyunjin can’t stop thinking about the black turtleneck you wore a few days ago. You had your hair in a ponytail, the tight collar hugging your neck so well. You bought a book saying it was a gift for someone, but you didn’t say who. For family, perhaps? You didn’t say. He didn’t ask. 

The door of the Evermore opens and lets in a gust of wind. He looks up, just curious to see what kind of client is coming in, and his heart stops. It’s you. 

On a Saturday. 

And you are not alone. 

He knew the day would come. He knew it would happen. The day you’d come through the door with someone. Yet he wasn’t prepared for the blow. It’s like someone’s just punched him in the stomach, knocked the air out. 

You look pretty. You’re wearing a little more makeup than usual and your long wool coat hangs open. It’s warm outside today because of the bright sun, so that might be why. You’re smiling broadly, in the middle of laughing, looking back at your friend. He’s telling you something, a mischievous smirk curving his lips, closing the door behind him. He has dark hair and beautiful doe eyes. 

You chuckle to what he says, heading towards the counter, and Hyunjin straightens his back. It’s okay, he tells himself. Of course you have a life outside this place. Of course you have a life outside of him. You are not a fantasy. You are a person. 

“Hey, Hyunjin,” you say, walking up to him. 

Your eyes are full of light and Hyunjin’s breath catches in his throat. “Hey. Fancy seeing you here on a Saturday.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We’re going ice skating in the park and so, in dire need of caffeine. I told Minho he had to taste that macchiato of yours.” 

Minho. The guy behind you gives Hyunjin a kind smile. He nods back, unable to really understand how he’s feeling right now. All he wants to do is ask. Who is he? Your brother? Your friend? Your date? Your boyfriend? 

What makes you think I want him to taste the drink I made for you? 

“She kept insisting it was the most delicious hot drink she ever had, so…” Minho says with a chuckle. 

He looks at you with some kind of affection but Hyunjin is unable to identify which kind. He keeps smiling, he keeps breathing. In a way it’s even more fascinating to see you interact with someone you know. What does this guy know about you, Hyunjin wonders? What parts of yourself do you share with him? 

“Two macchiatos, then,” Hyunjin nods. “I’ll get that ready for you.” 

“Thank you,” you say, searching your bag. 

Minho shakes his head, already handing Hyunjin his card. “Please. It’s my treat.” 

“Oh, thank you.” 

He looks down at you and smiles, and your cheeks get pink. Whoever he is, you’re not used to his presence. Hyunjin watches you interact with him as he prepares the drinks. From the way Minho interacts with you, Hyunjin can safely conclude he’s flirting. It doesn’t look like you know each other well, though, from the information you seem to give him. If this isn’t your first date, it’s either the second or the third. 

Hyunjin will give him that - Minho listens to you. He seems interested, both in what you look like and what you have to say. Hyunjin might have expected jealousy to blossom in his heart, but he can barely feel its claws. He’s curious. He’s happy for you. You deserve to be taken care of. He doesn’t want to hate the guy, especially not if you like him, if he makes you smile. 

Of course he wishes it was him. He would ice skate with you for hours, holding your hand. He would kiss your cold cheeks and make you hot chocolate afterwards. But he’s not in your life like that. 

Still, he doesn’t put vanilla soy milk in the guy’s macchiato. That’s just for you.

“Here you go,” Hyunjin tells you, handing you the drinks when he is done. “Have a good time.” 

“Thanks. I’ll see you Wednesday?” 

“I’ll be here.”  You smile at him one last time, and Minho does the same, politely. Once you’re back outside, Hyunjin watches you walk away until you disappear around a corner. Out of sight. Out of reach.

Minho walked you home that night. After you went ice skating you ate at a delicious Italian restaurant. You had a glass of wine and he paid for the meal. You offered him to come up for a nightcap, and after you talked for a while on your couch, he kissed you. His lips were soft, his hand gentle as he cupped your cheek. He was an excellent kisser, and a part of you really wanted to take him to bed. 

You’re not sure why you hesitated - but Minho sensed it and did not even ask. He just kissed you again and whispered goodnight. The sudden dread of being alone caught you, and you suggested he stayed, but he smiled at you and shook his head. I should get home. You didn’t insist. 

Once you laid on bed and pushed your fingers inside you, relieving your aching folds, it was not him you thought about. It was a boy with tranquil eyes and inviting lips. A boy whose fingers you pictured on your skin, whose smile you imagined against your wetness. You wondered what he would sound like. Would he just breathe in your neck, or maybe whisper sinful words? What would his voice sound like, roughened up, muffled against your lips? You come to the thought of his arms around you, lean muscles holding you close.

It barely feels enough. You feel on edge up all the way to Wednesday. That morning, as you do on Wednesdays, you wake up with a smile on your face. 

A thick layer of heavy, crunchy snow has fallen during the night. It’s perfect for making snowmen, sliding, and crafting snow forts, and so all afternoon you spy people gearing up for skiing and other winter activities. It’s not too cold either, and there is barely any wind - the ideal weather for long walks to admire the snow lounging on tree branches. Your own eyes have wandered on them all day, and you barely got anything done. 

The Café is extremely busy all afternoon, people coming in and out for hot chocolates and coffees to go. Hyunjin and his co-worker, a journalism student called Jeongin, are overwhelmed, barely able to stop for a few breaks. You watch them warily, wishing you could lend a hand, but you are sure Hyunjin will say no. 

Now, it’s nearly five and things have slowed down. People are busy preparing and eating dinner, but they’ll come back - the nearby restaurants are packed and you just know all of them will want a delicious coffee to finish their meal. You should get going. You should get home, get your things in order. Keep living your life. Call your mother, fold the laundry, and plan another date with Minho. But your heart wants none of those things. You just feel like lingering here a little longer. 

You stand up, walking lazily around the book tables near the counter, pretending like you’re reading the back cover of a mystery book. 

Hyunjin and Jeongin are talking in hushed tones, but from this distance you can make out what they are saying. 

“I’m sorry, Hyun,” Jeongin says. “I wish I could stay, but I have a midterm tomorrow, and...”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “School is more important. Go. I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure? It’ll be busy tonight.” 

“I’ll manage. Go study.” 

Jeongin thanks Hyunjin profusely, removing his apron and grabbing his coat. In a matter of seconds he leaves the café, and Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh. His long fingers slide through his tousled hair, his eyes a little puffy from exhaustion. Today he wears a white button-up, the collar a little crooked. Underneath it you spy a delicate silver chain. 

When he meets your gaze you smile kindly at him, putting down the book. 

“Busy day,” you say, hoping he notices the concern in your eyes. 

He chuckles, clacking his tongue against his palate. “You said it. Crazy.” 

“Do you have someone else coming in?” you can’t help but ask. 

Hyunjin gives you a curious look and you shrug, blushing a little bit. 

“Couldn’t help but overhear.” 

“Ah,” he smiles briefly. “Yeah, no. It’ll be just me tonight.” 

He tries to sound optimistic, you can hear it in his voice - but there’s that slight tone of defeat, or maybe just apprehension. You hesitate, biting your lower lip. You have nothing to lose by suggesting it to him. It’s not like you have anything planned. And this place has done so much for you - he has done so much. It’s the least you can do. So you take a few steps towards him, placing your hands on the counter. 

“Hyunjin,” you say softly, tasting his name on your lips. 

You don’t think you’ve ever said it much - but it feels nice. Better than nice, really. You like it. Hyunjin. Like a melody you were born to sing. He looks up at you with wide eyes, his ears a little red. 

“Let me help you, please?” you say. 

He opens his mouth with a frown and you hold a hand up. 

“I don’t have anything else to do,” you quickly add, “and you don’t have to pay me. I’m no good at making coffee, but I can work the register. Just show me the ropes and I can do it.” 

“Y/N, I can’t accept, this is -” 

“You can only say no if you don’t trust me with it,” you interrupt him again with the kindest smile you can muster. “Which would be fine. But that’s the only reason I’ll accept.” 

He closes his mouth and gives you a long look. You raise your eyebrows. A few clients walk into the café, chatting loudly about their plans for skiing later. In no time the place will be packed again, you are sure of it. So is Hyunjin, who knows his business better than anyone. He sighs, closing his eyes briefly, and smiles at you. 

“All right,” he says. “But it’s just because I really need help. And the second you get tired I want you to stop, yeah?” 

“Promise.” 

“Come around the counter, then,” he grins. 

Your heartbeat accelerates, and you tell yourself it’s because of the situation, not because of him or the way he smiles at you with constellations in his eyes. You get your things from your table, securing them in the back, and Hyunjin hands you an apron. He shows you how the register works as the recent clients make their order. It’s odd to stand so close to him, his body warmth mingling with yours. You can smell hints of his shampoo and his hand grazes against yours as he walks you through the steps. The register system is simple so you get a hold of it quickly, which is a good thing, because Hyunjin has to make the drinks, and there are more people coming in. 

You don’t have much time to think in the next hours, serving clients and helping Hyunjin with what you can. You glance at him from time to time, watching his body move with ease. He knows exactly where to stand, how many steps to take. It’s like a dance, a waltz of foamed milk and carefully dusted spices. Soon the almond scones and chocolate cookies get sold out, the dishes pile up in the sink, and the rush slows down. The café closes, and you feel both exhausted and exhilarated. Your legs are wobbly and your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you don’t mind. As Hyunjin closes the register, you get behind the sink to do the dishes, making sure the ceramic mugs and metallic cutlery are thoroughly clean. 

You’re so focused on your task you don’t hear the last client leaving. Hyunjin comes to stand next to you, resting against the counter with a smile. 

“All locked up. We did it.” 

You smile broadly at him, feeling a rush of pride. He looks at you attentively in return, a smirk curving his lips. The last few hours have gotten you used to being so close to him, but he still makes your heart jolt. 

“Here,” he says, handing you a macaron - espresso flavored, your favorite. 

You chuckle, showing him your gloved hands, covered in water and foam from the dishes. 

“Just put it there, I’ll…” 

“Don’t move.” 

You freeze as he takes a step closer. He guides the macaron to your lips, looking at them attentively, and you slowly part them. You bite into the macaron, your eyes planted in Hyunjin’s, in awe of the shape and depth of them. He’s beautiful, is all you can think. 

Hyunjin gently pushes the macaron in your mouth, and the tip of his finger brushes your lips. You have to make a conscious effort not to sigh at the touch, and instead focus on the delicious flavors on your tongue. You smile, fully aware, however, that your cheeks must be a bright red. 

Almost as red as the ears poking out from between his hair. 

“It’s delicious,” you say once you finish the macaron.

Hyunjin smiles, although he’s no longer looking you in the eye. He’s staring at your lips. “I know it’s your favorite.” 

“You have a good memory.” 

“I guess it’s a good quality to have for what I do,” he nods. 

Hyunjin grabs a tea towel to dry the dishes and you continue to talk, the tension slowly dissipating. You focus on the conversation, exchanging thoughts about careers and winter, meals and music. Hyunjin makes you laugh, makes you forget the exhaustion, makes you remember what it’s like to be heard. When you finish the dishes, Hyunjin disappears in the back. You remove your apron, fold it and put it on the counter - and you walk towards the nearest window, staring out at the winter night. 

It’s started snowing again. The snowflakes are big, powdery, falling on the ground as if in slow motion. There’s a full moon in the sky. You stare at the tranquil scene, your heart both serene and febrile. You don’t want to go home. 

You got a text from Minho earlier. He asked if you were free that weekend. You get your phone out of your pocket, telling yourself you need to answer him. You like him. He’s a nice guy, attentive and charming. The two dates you had were fun, casual. He didn’t pressure you. You met him through friends, and he’s been nothing but kind. But something is missing. A heartbeat. A flame. A truth, maybe. You’re not sure. 

You stare down at your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. 

“Want a drink?” 

You spin to see Hyunjin standing a few steps behind you, holding a bottle of red wine. He’s smiling, his head slightly tilted to the right. He removed his apron, and it’s the first time you see him without it. His white button-up is only half tucked into his jeans, which hang around a slim waist, secured by a simple leather belt.  

“You have wine here?” you say with an amused smile.

He chuckles, looking down at the bottle to read the label. 

“My mother gave it to me when I celebrated the five-year opening of the café. I never opened it. Thought this would be a good time. We deserve it after the evening we just had.” He considers you, his smile charming. “No pressure, though.” 

You shake your head. “I’d love to.” 

You get comfortable in a cozy corner of the book café, away from the windows, sitting down on a lush carpet, leaning on fluffy cushions and pillows. You both remove your shoes and when you tell Hyunjin you’re a little cold, he hands you a blanket that you wrap around your shoulders. 

Hyunjin opens the bottle and fills two ceramic mugs, handing you one. You toast to your successful evening, keeping your eyes on each other as you drink. The wine is thick and tastes like cherry and flowers. 

“Thank you for helping me,” he says. “It means a lot.” 

“Of course. It was fun. Reminded me of my college days.” 

Hyunjin pulls his knees to him, leans his head against the wall, studying you. He looks tired, but calm. 

“How’s that?” 

You bite your lip, trying not to smile too widely. “I was a barista for a while to pay my tuition fees.” 

Hyunjin gasps. “Really?” 

“I was…” You chuckle, looking down at your wine. “I was very bad at it.” 

Hyunjin’s laugh echoes through the room. It’s so loud, so undisciplined - thoroughly enchanting. You wish it filled your mug instead of the wine. You laugh with him, hiding your face in your hands. 

“I didn’t want to tell you that earlier so you didn’t panic, but… it’s probably a really good thing I didn’t touch the coffee.” 

You take a sip of wine, still giggling as Hyunjin laughs again. 

“And I trusted you,” he says dramatically, shaking his head at you. 

“Why do you think I come here all the time?” you retort. “I cannot make my own coffee, Hyunjin, that’s why.” 

His smile occupies half of his face, his shirt a little too big for him. You feel a strange longing. How can you, for someone you barely know? But you do. 

He points a finger at you. “Making coffee is a skill. It’s something you learn. I’ll teach you.” 

“What if I’m a lost cause?” 

“That’s all right,” he nods solemnly. “We all need to be bad at something.” 

You laugh, and before you know it your mugs are empty. As the conversation flows, you get tipsy on the wine, emptying the bottle to the last drop. You and Hyunjin talk about everything and nothing. He shows you the trailer for a movie he’s excited to see, and you make him listen to a song. After you forget to press pause and your phone just keeps playing music in the background. 

You talk about your lives, your exes, your dreams. But it’s strange, it’s like the outside world doesn’t truly belong here. The Evermore is its own world and you feel more at home in it than you ever did anywhere else. You had a little too much wine, so when you try to explain the feeling to Hyunjin, you fail miserably. 

“It’s true, Hyunjin,” you tell him with pleading eyes. “This place… it has something special.” 

He watches you, almost - tenderly? 

“It’s only because of people like you,” he says softly. “You make it live.” 

“But it’s not just that,” you whisper, ignoring the sudden acceleration of your heartbeat. “It’s… fuck, I can’t find the words.” 

You sigh exasperatedly, and then hold up a finger. A smile creeps upon your lips. 

“Hold on. I have an idea.” 

You carefully set your mug down, standing up on shaky legs. The world tilts slightly, but you keep your balance and extend your hand towards Hyunjin. He looks at you for a few seconds but eventually slides his palm in yours. You help him up, and you keep your hands interlocked as you lead him towards the bookshelves. 

You know exactly what you are looking for. You go towards the end of the Fiction section, squeezed between two aisles and the wall, and let go of Hyunjin. He stays close to you as you slide your fingers on the book’s bindings, searching for a title. Despite your state, you find it quickly and pull the book off the shelf. 

“Here,” you breathe, opening the book to search for the words you are looking for. 

You are focused and you don’t notice Hyunjin’s eyes fixed upon you. You flip through the pages, and after a minute, you put your index above a few lines of text. 

“This. This is what it is.” 

You lift your eyes and meet his. He is studying you closely, his eyes a profound shade of brown, his mouth parted. You almost entirely forget about the book. Hyunjin’s lips are stained cranberry red by the wine. 

He draws a sharp breath. 

“Read it to me.” 

His voice is hoarse. You lick your lips, taste the wine. You wish they tasted like something else. You swallow, advert your eyes, and start to read. The words drip from your mouth, and you’re not sure you’re reading them correctly because it’s like you can’t hear your own voice. Your heartbeat is too loud, pounding in your chest and resonating against your temples. 

When you’re done, you look up at Hyunjin again, who has not moved. After a second of silence, he shakes his head. You open your mouth, convinced he’s going to say you’re not making any sense. 

Hyunjin stops you with a kiss. 

His lips sweep yours, plucking them like a fruit. You gasp in surprise but Hyunjin only deepens the kiss, pressing his plump lips against yours, eager, ravenous. It’s like the world has stopped spinning, or perhaps it is only spinning faster, so fast you can’t see it. The book slips from between your fingers and falls on the ground with a faint thump, but you barely notice it. Your hands grab Hyunjin’s shirt, pulling him towards your body, kissing him back feverishly. 

His mouth embraces yours, his kisses ardent as he pushes you against the bookshelf, one of his hands on the small of your back, his fingers slightly digging into your skin. His other hand is in your hair, tousling your hair, sending blissful shivers throughout your body. He gasps for air, drinking you in, and you sigh from his absence. When his lips take yours once more, you graze them with your teeth, eliciting a muffled groan from him. He bucks his hips against you, like there aren’t any layers of clothes separating your skin, like he’s already deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. 

It’s alluring, it’s sinful. You’re dizzy and entranced, and you just want to rip his clothes off, witness his body, and let him ravish you. 

You shouldn’t. This is rushed, this is irresponsible. You should think things through, you should exert self-control. 

But you don’t. 

You bite his lip harder, and he stammers a moan inside your mouth. His fingers grip your waist harder, pushing hard in your skin. You roll your hips against him, panting against his mouth, feeling his hardening cock inside his jeans. 

“Hyunjin…” you whisper. 

“Fuck, this can’t be real,” he breathes, grabbing your face with both of his hands, his fingers desperately holding on to you.

His tongue slithers around yours, febrile. The sensation of his saliva blending with yours sends shockwaves all the way down to between your legs, and you have to squeeze your thighs together. You can feel it, you’re both too drunk to be able to make it last, to do it like you’d like to, to be reasonable about it. You can’t care about that right now. 

With nervous fingers, and between sloppy kisses, you unbutton each other’s jeans. He lowers yours, taking a long look at your panties, as you free his cock, stroking it in your palm. He throbs around your hand, leaking pre-cum. You push your underwear aside, your cunt a soaked mess, and help him align himself with your entrance. 

“Are you sure -” 

“Please,” you sigh. 

He buries himself inside of you, his cock stretching your walls. You let out a loud moan and wrap your arms around his neck for stability. Hyunjin breathes heavily in your neck, his lips feeling hot against your skin. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe I’m fucking you.” 

“Don’t stop, Hyunjin, please…” 

“Never.” 

He nearly removes himself from you, only to thrust his hips deeper. You whimper, holding his body close to yours. He starts to pound into you, almost frantically, but keeping his pelvis in perfect control so that his cock hits the right spots inside of you. Your pleasure builds so quickly you clench around him more tightly with every move, and Hyunjin cries out in your ear. 

As you feel yourself drift into your orgasm, your eyes roll back and you grip Hyunjin’s hair. You whimper his name as your body relinquishes control, and as you come around him, Hyunjin lets out a deep grunt and empties himself inside of you. You feel the thick spurts of his seed, you feel his body twitch, you feel his lips trembling. 

You breathe out, sweaty and shuddering against him. Hyunjin places a soft kiss on your collarbone and you shiver. It’s almost like you could blink and realize none of this has happened, that you have read the passage from the book and looked at him wishing he would kiss you. 

But this is real. This happened. 

You don’t know whether to tense or relax, so you stay frozen in place. You both stay like that, just breathing, giving time for reality to go back on its feet. Hyunjin leans back, his lips now a bright red. 

“Fuck. Sorry,” he mutters. “I made a mess.” 

“It’s all right,” you tell him softly. 

You keep your voices low like someone could hear you. Hyunjin steps back, watching as his cum slides down your inner thigh. He blushes violently, and you open your mouth to reassure him - but suddenly you have no idea what to say. 

“I’ll get you a towel. Hold on.” 

He puts his cock back inside his boxers and walks away, zipping up his jeans. You stay like that, feeling silly and cold. What the fuck just happened? You know what happened. You and Hyunjin just fucked like horny teenagers in a corner of the book café - no conversation, no protection. You’re not that worried about the latter part, you take the pill and you’ll get the necessary precautions, but it’s the fact that you have no idea what it means. Where it came from. It was so sudden, so passionate, so intense. Not that you need to define sex before you have it like it’s a contract with clauses, but it happened so quickly you’re dizzy and feel a little sick. 

You are drunk. That explains things. 

You are drunk and so attracted to Hyunjin he must have felt it. Not that he took advantage of you. But did he like you? Or was it just a spur of the moment thing? What did he say again? This can’t be real. Your mind spins into nothingness, your thoughts a tangled mess. 

Hyunjin reappears with a towel he soaked in warm water, and he hands it to you. You thank him with a smile, and seeing your hesitation, he steps away as you clean yourself up. Once your jeans are buttoned again, you tap his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

“Sure.” 

He looks more beautiful than ever, but you can’t look at him.

He can’t look at you. 

Fuck. 

“I should head home,” you whisper. 

Hyunjin nods, his face hidden behind strands of ruffled hair. Hair the color of carefully made coffee. His eyes, too. Only his lips are the color of the sweetest cherries. 

“Of course, yeah. I should - I should do the same, yeah.” 

You both gather your things in silence, the tension almost unbearable. You feel like crying, and you know you should say something before it is too late, but you can’t gather the words, you can’t put them in the right order, and then you’re standing next to the door and you have to say goodbye. 

“Goodnight,” you say.

You gather the courage to look at him, but he’s not looking at you. He’s staring at his hands, at his shoes, at the floor. Anything but you. 

“Goodnight,” he answers. 

You step outside. The day has grown terribly, terribly cold.

The café will be closed today. Hyunjin made his decision hours ago. If anyone asks, it is for personal reasons. He does not want to see anyone today. 

It’s a boyish reaction but he does not care. 

He barely got any sleep, turning in his bed staring at the snow outside his window. He keeps wondering how you feel. What you think. If you got some sleep, or if you were like him, ripped open at the seams, waiting for a coup de grâce that would not come. When daylight starts to seep through his curtains, Hyunjin texts his employees, takes a long shower, and dresses in a large wool sweater and brown corduroy pants. 

He still goes to the café because there is no other place he can go. But he takes a piece of paper, writes a few words on it and places it on the front door. Closed exceptionally for today. 

Once that is done, Hyunjin lets out a long, shaky sigh and looks at the café. He opened this place more than five years ago and has worked nearly everyday in it since, but today it feels like an unfamiliar place. The walls, the chairs, the books, they all stare back at him. 

His legs take him to the Fiction aisle. It looks as it always does, and yet it’s thoroughly changed. On the ground is a book. Hyunjin picks it up with trembling hands. It’s fallen crooked, and some of the pages are creased. He presses his fingers on them, trying to flatten them out; but they are forever marked. 

As he is. 

Hyunjin breathes out. He wishes he could remember the passage you read to him. He looks through the book for a few minutes but he cannot, for the life of him, recall what the words were. Idiot. 

He closes his eyes. He still hears you breathe, how your voice slightly changed as you got tipsy. He sees the texture of your mint green blouse. Your smile as you took the clients’ orders. He feels your soft skin against his. Your cunt tightening around his cock. Fuck, you came so well. So fiercely. You looked so beautiful doing it, your eyes squinted shut, your lips deliciously parted, begging to be kissed. Hyunjin regrets. And yet he can’t. 

He should’ve been more in control. He should have taken the time to tell you what he wants, what he thinks of you. He nearly did, when he gave you the macaron and couldn’t take his eyes off your lips. But he had hesitated, overwhelmed by the past hours in such sudden close proximity with you. And then, when he didn’t hesitate, you kissed him back so eagerly and your body responded to his like you had been waiting for this too. Did you feel it, as he thrust into you, how much he wanted you? How captivating he thought you were, how you occupied his mind, how you were all he saw in this goddamn place and everywhere? 

Hyunjin slowly sits on the floor, his back to the wall, the book pressed against his chest. 

It was the wine. It was the exhaustion. It made him forget that he wanted, if he ever got the honor to touch you, to make it slow. He wanted to take you somewhere warm and comfortable, to undress you, to worship all the parts of you, to make you come around his mouth, to be both chaste and lewd, to see your smile, to hear you gasp. Instead it had been rushed, messy, and inevitably awkward. 

He felt you come. He is sure of it. But what if you didn’t like it? What if the awkwardness turned sour? What if you started to hate him for what happened? What if you never came back here again? That would be the worst of all. 

He knows what he should have said. Not people like you, but you. You made this place alive. 

Hyunjin breathes out, opens the book in his hands, and starts reading. 

He reads it again the next day.

And again the day after that.

You’re standing in the middle of a snow storm. 

It is not Wednesday and it is well past opening hours. Still, foolishly, you stare at the front door of the Evermore, as if you are expecting it to open. 

You stand there for a few minutes before you shake your head, letting out a shaky, bitter laugh. What are you waiting for? Why are you here? It’s late. It’s cold. The wind whistles in your ears and the snow will bury you if you do not move. You need to go home. 

You turn on your heels and stare up at the night sky. It isn’t dark, but rather a strange sort of milky, off white. A few snowflakes hit your eyes and you blink. You sit down on the pavement, letting your eyes fill with tears. 

It’s Wednesday night and you didn’t go to the café this afternoon. Instead you paced your apartment wondering if you should go. In the end you didn’t, terrified of what you might find in Hyunjin’s eyes. You regret it. At least you would have known. Now you can just sit here with an empty chest, wondering if he waited for you, wondering if he missed you, wondering if you ruined everything. 

Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you try harder?

You shake your head, letting your head fall in your hands. You’re so cold. You forgot to put on a hat and gloves. Your fingers and your ears are bright red. They are slowly freezing. Your heart, too. 

“Y/N?” 

You lift your head at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice. For a second you stare at the dark, wondering if you just imagined him calling your name. But then you turn your head and see him there, in the café, holding the door open. He seems as shocked to see you as you do him. 

“What are you doing here?” you breathe.

You’re sure he won’t hear you above the whistles of the wind, but he does.  

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then Hyunjin frowns and waves towards the inside of the café. 

“Come in. You’re going to freeze to death.” 

You’re not sure it’s a good idea, and half of you is still wondering if he’s really there, but you stand up and follow him. He doesn’t comment on your visible tears, or your messy hair. He just closes the door behind you. It’s suddenly so silent. 

“It’s so late, Y/N, what are…” 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, your voice quivering.

Hyunjin looks up at you with wide eyes. There are barely any lights open in the cafe, but the full moon outside is enough for you to see him well. 

“It’s Wednesday,” you say. “I wanted to come but I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t want to see me.” 

Hyunjin clenches his jaw, shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because…” You hesitate. “Because of what happened.” 

He looks up at you, prudently, and you stare into his eyes, trying to find an answer in them. He makes it difficult, or maybe it’s just your fear blurring the lines for you. Your lips are trembling, and as your fingers slowly warm up, they burn. 

“You’re shivering,” Hyunijn winces. “Let’s warm you up first. Take off your coat.” 

You nod, following him into the café, away from the cold windows. You leave your coat and boots near the entrance, and Hyunjin hands you a blanket to wrap yourself in. He disappears behind the counter, pouring water in a kettle, and you snuggle on an armchair. Hyunjin keeps his back to you as he prepares a cup of tea, only reappearing a few minutes later.

“Careful,” he warns you softly, settling the steaming mug on the table next to you. “Don’t burn your tongue.” 

“Thanks.” 

He turns away from you, and on an impulse, you grab the hem of his shirt. It’s a striped sweater vest, beige and navy, worn above a tight long-sleeve, and it feels soft against your fingers. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper. “Can we talk?” 

He looks down at your hand. It takes a few seconds, but he smiles. 

“Of course we can. Just give me a second.” 

You nod, letting him go. He disappears for another minute - when he comes back, he’s holding a mug for himself and a lit candle. He puts it close to you. It smells like pinewood, and makes you feel like you’re standing in the middle of a forest. 

“I was reading,” he says, sitting down on a chair in front of you. “That’s what I was doing. I lost track of time, it seems.” 

You nod timidly. “I know what that’s like.” 

A sinking feeling settles in your stomach again. You can’t look at each other. You tell yourself it’s your only chance - you have to know where Hyunjin stands. So you take a deep breath and look up. 

As if he read your mind, he looks up too. 

Your eyes meet. They stay there. 

“I wanted you to,” he says softly. “Of course I wanted you to come.” 

Your heart contracts in your chest. 

“When you didn’t, I… I thought…” He stumbles on his words. “All I mean is, it’s okay if the other night didn’t mean anything for you.”

It’s sudden, and Hyunjin himself seems surprised by the words that just escaped his mouth, as his eyes slightly widen in panic. 

“What I mean is -” 

“It does,” you interrupt him.

He frowns, and you take a deep breath. 

“It does mean something,” you explain, doing your best to hold up his gaze. “I don’t know what exactly, but it does mean something.” 

You stare at him. 

“You just confuse me. Because I feel… all those things, and they’re so strong, and I feel… I don’t even know,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. You notice that his hands are grabbing the handles of the armchair tightly. His next words are measured, careful. 

“Y/N,” he breathes. “Can I please have a second chance?” 

It is so silent around you that you can hear your own heart beating. You can hear Hyunjin breathing. It’s a sweet, gentle sound. 

“Let me make it right,” he breathes, springing up from his seat to kneel next to you. 

He looks at you with wide, shimmering eyes. His beautiful lips are searching for the right words, with no avail. You extend a shivering hand, cupping his cheek nervously. He leans against it. 

“I’ve been craving you all week,” you whisper.

He opens his eyes, and you move from your position to kneel on the carpet next to him, the blanket forgotten behind you. You are not as cold anymore, your body warming in anticipation and desire. 

Your fingers trace Hyunijn’s jaw line, and he gently takes your face in his hands, caressing your skin. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You nod, closing your eyes as he leans in. 

It’s an entirely different kiss. It’s careful, delicate. You drift against him, falling in his arms - but your movements are slow, deliberate. He deepens the kiss as you tilt your head to the right, exploring the plumpness of his lips. You stay like that for an immeasurable amount of time, kissing and softly embracing each other, until you are out of breath and your lips feel raw. Then Hyunjin, putting a gentle hand against your neck, leans it backwards and starts to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw. His tongue swirls against the skin of your neck, all the way to your collarbones, and you arch against his caresses. 

You undress each other slowly. You take in the sight of his chiseled chest and smooth skin, which almost seems to glow in the light of the candle.  He spends a long time kissing your breasts, brushing his nose against your skin. You let out soft whimpers, your fingers tangling his chocolate hair, teasing his ears, stroking his neck. 

“Your skin is so cold,” he breathes, placing kisses against your arms, your fingers. 

His hands, sprawled on your stomach and hips, feel so incredibly warm. 

“I don’t feel cold,” you tell him with a smile. 

He smiles back, moving back on top of you to kiss you. You take the opportunity to unbutton his jeans and push them down, cupping his already hard cock in your hand. Hyunjin twitches slightly, letting out a nervous laugh against your mouth. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “You’re just… You make me go crazy, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

“So are you, Hyunjin,” you say, placing kisses on his lower lip, on his neck, on his shoulder. “When I’m here I can’t stop looking at you. When I’m not I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Fuck, right back at you,” he laughs, opening his eyes to look at you. 

He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, smiling tenderly.

“You never noticed?” he asks you. “Me staring at you?” 

You shrug, playing with his hair. He looks so handsome, on top of you like that, the silver chain around his neck hanging loosely. 

“I guess I did sometimes. I just thought you found me weird. Like that day with the ice cubes…” 

His cock twitches in your hand and he chuckles embarrassingly. 

“Oh God, don’t talk about that day.” 

You don’t know what to say, but he smiles at you, his eyes a little darker.

“You made me so fucking horny that day I had to jerk off in the bathroom,” he explains, his voice hoarse. “I wanted to lick all that water off your body so bad…” 

It’s your turn to clench, and you bite your lip a little too violently. 

“You’re fucking with me,” you say, shaking your head.

“I’m not,” he answers, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “I think about that day all the time. Imagining how sweet you taste.” 

His mouth goes up to your earlobe, which he takes in his mouth, sucking it in, and you let out an audible moan, pressing your thighs together and squeezing his cock in your hand at the same time. 

He hums, and stands back up to take off his jeans for good; he then removes your pants. Hyunjin immediately descends towards your legs, warming your thighs with his wide hands, and he slowly takes off your panties, discarding them with the rest of your clothes. 

You lay under him, completely naked, feeling safe. Hyunjin removes his boxers, and you see the full beauty of him, the angles of his hips, the curve of his cock. You take in the sight, and he does the same. Certainly your eyes must be as dizzy as his are. He tugs at his cock, biting his lip, and smiles at you. 

“Spread for me, beautiful.” 

You oblige, your pussy twitching as he stares down at you, his face contorted with lust. Hyunjin moves, settling his head between your legs. Your heartbeat accelerates as he kisses the insides of your thighs, slowly leading to your cunt. When he puts his plush lips against you, his tongue pressing against your wet folds, you gasp, your hips thrusting at the touch. 

“Hyunjin…” you cry out. 

He drinks you in, his tongue plunged into you. His caresses are attentive, and you’re never had someone eat you out this way before. It’s so measured and careful and yet so fervent, almost pious despite the sinfulness of the sound he makes against your cunt. It feels like he’s barely breathing, and you feel your entire body tense as he curls his tongue against your clit, teases your entrance, scoops your folds with his full lips. 

You grip the carpet, you shudder, and your orgasm is almost overwhelming. A loud moan escapes your mouth, and your legs shake, almost trapping him between them. When your body relaxes, and your thoughts wander away, you feel Hyunjin leaving kisses on your still trembling thighs. You open your eyes with difficulty, and discern him through the fog. He meets your gaze and smiles, his chin and lips coated in you. 

“Kiss me,” you plead, pulling him closer to you. 

His lips taste of you, of course, but it’s the feeling of his hardness against your still sensitive cunt that sends a shiver across your body. You’re barely recovering from your orgasm, trying to steady your breathing. Hyunjin strokes your hair. 

“I hope that was better,” he whispers. 

“Better?” you ask with a frown. 

“Than last time.” 

“Hyunjin…” you say softly. 

You open your eyes, taking his face in your hands so he looks at you, too. His hair is a mess, his lips swollen. 

“Last time was amazing,” you tell him. “It was quick, but it was good.” 

“It was?” he frowns. “I just thought…”

“I mean, it was for me,” you admit. “It was just another kind of sex, but I loved it. Didn’t you?” 

“Of course I did,” he says, kissing you softly. “I was just worried I ruined it by acting like a horny teenager.” 

“We both acted like horny teenagers,” you chuckle. “It’s okay. I got scared too. I guess it just… made us crave for more.” 

He nods, smiling at you. 

“Like I haven’t wanted to drown in that pussy for months.” 

“Hyunjin!” you cry out with a laugh. 

He chuckles, and you feel recovered enough, so you sit up slightly, pushing his chest forward. 

“Which makes me think,” you smirk. “There’s also something I’ve wanted to do for months. Sit down.” 

You guide him towards the armchair, where he takes a seat, staring at you intently. It’s like he doesn’t want to waste a second looking at something else, and you kneel between his legs, leaning forward to kiss his chest. 

His cock doesn’t really need your hand to stand on its own, but you still hold it, your fingers gently stroking its base. 

“You don’t have to -” 

“I want to,” you tell him. “Don’t you?” 

“Is it too intense to say I’ve dreamt about this before?” 

You blush a little and place a kiss on the tip of his cock. 

“No. I like it.” 

Hyunjin smirks, gathering your hair between his long fingers to hold it back from your face. You place your other hand on his thigh, and take him in your mouth. You go as low as you can, swirling your tongue around the length at the same time. As you go back up, you hollow your cheeks a little.  

Hyunjin lets out a deep groan, his head falling backwards on the armchair. As you keep bobbing your head around his cock, spit and precum making the act a little sloppy, you look up at him. You could draw each vein in his muscled neck from here. It sends a shiver down to your cunt, and you just have to touch yourself, putting pressure against your swollen clit. 

You listen to his breathing, loving how his fingers sometimes pull at your hair a little as he tenses. He bucks his hips sometimes, making you take him deeper in your mouth. You don’t mind - you do your best. He’s making such lewd sounds, moaning your name, and perhaps you’re liking this a little too much. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses as you accelerate your movements. “Stop, stop, please.” 

You remove him from between your lips, and he lets out a chuckle. He looks like he can barely keep his eyes open, his forehead covered in a thin layer of sweat. 

“I just - you’re going to make me come, and I want to make this last.” 

You place a gentle kiss on his cock. “But I like doing this,” you pout. 

Hyunjin lets out a low laugh, placing a finger under your chin to lift your face towards his. He gives you a slow kiss, his tongue toying with yours. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you touching yourself there,” he whispers. “The sight alone could make me blow on the spot.” 

“Then I won’t do it again,” you tease.

“I’ll never forgive you if you don’t,” he retorts with a smirk. 

He plunges his lips against yours, moving back on the carpet next to you. His warm, long fingers cup your ass, and then slide against your wet folds before he applies sweet pressure. You gasp around his lips, rolling your hips to reach for more. Hyunjin smiles but does not say a thing - he just keeps going, and then pushes two of his fingers inside of you. 

“Yes,” you moan, feeling him stretch you. 

“So warm,” he whispers. “So tight for me. Fuck, so beautiful.” 

“Give me more of you, please,” you breathe. 

He starts to fuck you with his fingers, adding another after a few seconds, and you shudder against him. He reaches deep inside of you, and while it’s a delightful sensation, you still want more. 

“No,” you whisper. “I want you inside of me.” 

He nods, removing his fingers, licking them clean around his tongue. He accompanies you as you lay down against the carpet, a hand against your back. You keep your eyes in his, kept there by an invisible pull, as the tip of his cock brushes against your cunt. You sigh, your hands reaching for him, pushing your fingers in his soft hair. 

Hyunjin enters you with a shuddering moan, and he does not stop until he reaches the furthest he can go. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a soft cry. He feels so good inside of you, both lean and hard. 

“My beauty,” he whispers in your ear. “Feels so good around me. I’m gonna go slow, I need to feel every inch of you.” 

His thrusts are so slow at first it feels like torture of the sweetest kind. You keep arching your back, begging for more, but at the same time it feels so good, so intimate, you can only enjoy every second. Hyunjin fucks you like he’s writing lines of poetry, like he’s making coffee one drip at a time, like he traces intricate patterns in foamy cream. 

“I think you were made for me,” he groans. “Or rather, I was made for you.” 

You shudder at his words. “Don’t let me go, please. Not ever.” 

He keeps whispering things in your ear, things that make sense, things that don’t, and you let him know how he makes you feel, how a part of you lives in him, in this place that is him. Your voices belong to the both of you, to none of the rest. 

After a while his thrusts gain in intensity, and you sit up slightly so that you face him, almost sitting on the carpet with him inside of you. The new position allows him to reach new depth, and the feeling of his cock throbbing inside of you, begging to come undone, sends you into a second orgasm. He growls as you clench, shaking his head, sweat pearling on his lips, and you kiss them again and again. You’re lost in pleasure, Hyunjin dancing into you.

He comes not long after, holding you close to him, your forehead against his. You wish you could bottle up every sound he makes, every single breath that escapes his lips, keep it for later. You just listen to them, their memories safely kept in your very heartbeat. 

“I love you,” Hyunjin whispers. 

It comes out of nowhere and it doesn’t - it really doesn’t. 

You smile, grazing your nose against his. 

“I love you, too.”

“Hyunjin.” 

He blinks at the sound of his name, turning towards Jeongin, who is smiling politely at him. 

“Your friend’s here.” 

He nods towards the other end of the counter where Seungmin stands, giving him a wave. Hyunjin smiles back, lifting a finger to tell his friend he’ll be there in a minute. Seungmin nods back and heads towards the tables, taking a seat. 

Hyunjin prepares two cups of coffee, then takes off his apron and meets Seungmin at the table. 

“Thanks for coming, man,” Hyunjin says, taking a seat with a sigh. “I know the café isn’t exactly in your way.” 

“That’s fine,” Seungmin answers. “I get free coffee, don’t I?” 

“That’s true,” Hyunjin smiles. 

“But you work too much, man. You’re here almost every day.” 

Hyunjin nods - everyone says that to him all the time. He’s aware of it. But his whole life is the café. He would be nothing without it, and there’s rarely a day he actually forces himself to come to work. 

“What can I tell you?” he sighs with a shrug. “I like it.” 

Seungmin shakes his head. “I like my job, too, but everyone needs a few days off. Don’t forget there’s a world out there.” 

“You sound like you’re going to tell me I need to broaden my horizons, live a little, get laid.” 

Seungmin scoffs, taking a sip of coffee. “Well, you do.” 

“Next you’ll tell me you know someone I’d like, and you can introduce us?” 

“Well…”

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin chuckles. 

The latter laughs, putting down his cup and crossing a leg over the other. He looks relaxed, almost detached, but Hyunjin knows him well enough. Seungmin always cares. Hyunjin bites his lip, tapping a finger on his leg. Then, he leans forward, his elbows on the table, and smiles at his friend. 

“She’s back.” 

“Who?” 

“Y’know.” 

Understanding flashes in Seungmin’s eyes. “Ice cube girl?” 

“Hm.” 

Hyunjin told Seungmin about you one drunken night. The two friends were inside a pub, hidden away in a booth, exchanging stories. Seungmin, who had just recently started going out with his girlfriend, started talking about sex. So Hyunjin told him about the sexiest thing he had ever seen. You, with the ice cubes. 

“Oh.” Seungmin grins, looking around. “Does she still come every week?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I think she has a crush on you, man.” 

Hyunjin smirks. “I think so, too.”

He can’t help it - he glances at you, who is sitting at your usual table. You’re sipping a simple black coffee, half of an espresso macaron still on your plate. You’re wearing Hyunjin’s favorite sweater, the apricot colored one. 

He chose it himself from your closet this morning. Seungmin follows his gaze, and as you feel the two pairs of eyes on you, you lift your head and smile at them. Seungmin waves back, inviting you to join them. You do, Hyunjin holding your hand tightly in his own. 

Outside the snow melts under a clear sun, giving way to a hopeful spring.

“Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home — my only home.”  — charlotte brontë

• permanent taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @tanyas97 ; @raspbinniecreme ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit ; @sikebishes ; @sai-kida134 ; @sstarryoong ; @oxviolentheartxo (i'm unable to tag you sorry)

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every fragile thing

genre: figure skater au, college au, enemies to lovers, angst and fluff

pairing: park sunghoon x f reader

word count: 12.3k

soundtrack: jealousy, jealousy / brutal / the grudge / get him back! / good 4 u - olivia rodrigio

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After an ankle injury lands you in weekly physical therapy sessions instead of on the ice where you should be training for regionals, you’re certain you must be the most emotionally volatile figure skater within a hundred mile radius. Park Sunghoon proves you wrong.

or,

every fragile thing has one of two choices: become stronger or shatter into a million pieces.

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Silence. One word, two syllables. A fairly straightforward term with a meaning that can be easily deduced from a quick scan of its Merriam-Webster definition. 

But unlike many words, silence is one that’s typically learned through experience. Through stilted beats, pregnant pauses, dreamlike moments in the dead of night while the world around you is at a standstill. 

In the moments just before the music starts, when it feels as if the audience around you is holding their breath. And you stand at the center of it all, blades of your tightly laced skates against ice, chest rising and falling in time with your heartbeat, mind spinning with possibility. In those moments, your long trained muscles take over, following the memory of countless repetitions as your body prepares to do what it knows best. 

There’s a question in that silence. One that’s asked with baited breath. 

Will I land this skill? Will I go home with a medal around my neck, cold weight a familiar comfort against my skin? Will this be my best performance yet? Will they love it? Love me?

That, as you’ve come to learn, is your favorite kind of silence. The kind that’s filled with endless possibility, with the promise of something beautiful or disastrous or some odd mix of the two to come. 

The feeling of freedom, of flying as blade cuts through ice, as your body defies gravity with every jump, every spin. 

But that is very much not the kind of silence that greets you where Dr. Min eyes you warily over the top of his pristine clipboard, a crease forming between his dark eyebrows. Frowning, he glances at the paper once more before returning his gaze to you. 

“You’re sure you’ve been resting? No weight on the fracture at all?”

It takes a good chunk of your willpower not to roll your eyes. Mostly because you’re lying through your teeth, but who’s keeping track? 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Gesturing to the thick black boot the lower part of your left leg and foot have been imprisoned in for the better part of a month, you add, “This thing’s still coming off in two weeks, right?”

Two weeks is pushing it, but you’ve done more with less. Two weeks puts you exactly three months out from regionals, which gives you exactly ninety-one days to pull together the most jaw dropping program you or the judges have ever seen. One that’s certain to land you on the podium and secure a spot at nationals. 

Once again, you thank your lucky stars for Coach Lee. She’s been with you since you were still struggling to lace your own skates, and there’s no one else you’d trust to have you ready for regionals in such a short time frame. No one else you’d bet your fate on like this. 

“That was our original time frame, yes…” Dr. Min trails off, avoiding your gaze in a way that has your stomach dropping unpleasantly. 

“And we’ll be sticking to it, I’m sure.” You hate the way the end of your phrase turns up like a question. 

Dr. Min sighs. “Look, ___, our original time frame was ambitious to begin with, and I hate to tell you this, but your ankle is not healing as well as we’d hoped. Fractures don’t heal overnight, and the best thing for you right now is rest.” 

The argument is already forming on your tongue. “But—”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not trying to ruin your life, ___. Truly. I’m saying this to you as the parent of an athlete and a former athlete myself. Pushing yourself now will only lead to reinjury in the future and will also very likely shorten your career. Your ankle needs to heal before you skate on it again. It needs to heal before you so much as put weight on it. And you need to let it heal completely.” The sincerity in his voice is hard to stomach when he says, “Believe me when I tell you that you’ll regret it for the rest of life if you don’t.”

And logically, you know he’s right. Know that this will be nothing but a minor setback if you allow it to run its course. If you follow his advice to rest and heal. But skating has never been something you’ve done with the logical parts of yourself. And Dr. Min doesn’t get it. You tell him as much. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do. Regionals are in less than four months, and—”

“I hear you. Believe me, I do. But this is your third year of university, which means you have another shot at nationals next year. If you push it and try to skate before you’re ready, you may very well lose that chance.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Sit around and do nothing until my ankle decides to cooperate?” Even voicing the possibility has you suppressing a grimace. 

But Dr. Min has different thoughts. “Yes. That is exactly what you need to do.”

You don’t avert your gaze. Neither does he. Finally, after a moment, he sighs. “My recommendation at this point is still rest, but—”

“But?” Your excitement is impossible to contain fully. 

Dr. Min levels you with a cautionary look over his clipboard. “But, if you’re going to do anything, our athletics department does also run a physical therapy program, which I think could be beneficial. It would help to retain flexibility, mobility, and agility in the areas of your leg that support your ankle. It could help get you back on the ice faster and maintain the leg strength you’ve built. There’s a group session that runs on Tuesday afternoons—”

“Yes,” you nod, not bothering to hear the end of his statement. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“I… okay.” As much as you want to hate him for it, Dr. Min has a point. And while you doubt physical therapy will be anywhere near as grueling as your usual workouts, it sounds a hell of a lot better than doing nothing. 

…

You’ve never liked hospitals. The odd juxtaposition of white, lifeless sterility and a culmination of some of life’s most painful moments has always left an unpleasant taste on your tongue. 

It’s one that has you double checking the address Dr. Min forwarded to you as you enter the oddly cheerful building that is apparently home to a renowned athletics physical therapy facility. Despite the medical purpose, there’s a distinct liveliness that envelops the space. 

The woman at reception informs you that this is indeed the right building and the session you’re attending has just begun in the room to your left. 

Pausing at the door, you’re struck with a sudden timidness. A physical therapy group for athletes will obviously be filled with, well, athletes. And although you can’t speak too harshly on that particular subsect of people, being one yourself, they can be intimidating. It must be the competitiveness, you think. The drive to push, succeed, win that gives off such a distinct aura.

Steeling yourself with one last breath, you remind yourself that’s why you’re here. To get back to that version of you that has everyone else feeling a little shier. That version of you that eats, breathes, and sleeps with ice skates laced on your feet and visions of the top of a podium driving your every decision. 

With determination straightening your brow, you push open the door. 

And immediately find yourself grateful for the mental preparation as three heads snap in your direction.  

Hitching your bag up an inch on your shoulder, you try not to melt under the sudden awkwardness. Thankfully, one of them is better at breaking ice than you.

“Hi,” the boy closest to you is the first to fill the silence. He’s all smiles where he gives you a friendly wave, moving a stray hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head as he tells you, “I’m Jungwon.”

You offer your name in return, trying on a smile to match his friendliness. You have a feeling it comes more naturally to him than it ever will to you, though. 

Regardless, he offers an equally cheerful, “Nice to meet you.” Glancing over to where the second boy is moving through a series of stretches, Jungwon makes eye contact, silently telling him he’s up next. 

Even mid-stretch, he acquiesces. “I’m Niki,” the second boy follows. 

“And I’m Jake.” The last boy doesn’t need any prompting from Jungwon. Nodding towards the walking boot that covers the bottom half of your left leg, he glances at a similar one that he wears on his own. “Looks like we’re twins. Tore up my achilles pretty bad in my last soccer match,” he explains. “What about you?”

“Fractured my ankle,” you return, a rueful smile dragging your lips up. “Figure skater.”

“Ah, man.” Jungwon winces. “That sucks.”

You shrug, forcing a nonchalance you don’t feel. “No worse than a busted achilles.” 

“That’s cool that you skate though,” Jake offers. “Kind of a funny coincidence, actually. There’s another—”

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get to finish the thought. At that moment, the door opens again, this time revealing a middle aged woman in a white physician’s coat. Her name tag reads Dr. Kim, and she introduces herself as such to you. 

“Looks like everyone’s here, including our new member.” She gives another cursory nod in your direction. “Welcome again.” Glancing around, the instructor pauses. “Oh, wait. Except for—”

“I’m here, I’m here.” For the second time in the span of a minute, the door behind you opens. You don’t miss the glance that passes between Niki and Jake. You turn to face the new arrival, but his back is to you as he sets his bag down and begins the process of switching his shoes. 

The way the new member enters with a dismissive wave of his hand and lack of proper greeting has you thinking tardiness is not an uncommon trait of his. Even from behind, you can feel the waves of arrogance he exudes. That seems to align more with your preconceived notions of athletes. 

Studying him for another second, a sinking feeling of dread begins to build in the pit of your stomach. Long, dark hair. Unnaturally graceful movements, even if all he’s doing is digging through his bag. Tall stature, broad shoulders, long legs. 

An athlete’s build through and through. Perfectly suited for the ice. 

“Great.” Despite the statement, Dr. Kim’s tone is flat. “Well, we were just getting started and introducing ourselves since we have someone new joining us today.”

“Hi,” he offers, still fixated on his bag, yet to offer as much as a glance in your direction. If anything, it only serves as a confirmation of his identity. “I’m—” You don’t even need to hear him say it. 

“Sunghoon?”

At that, he does finally look up. 

Gaze locking with yours, a moment of confusion is quickly replaced by a furrow in his brow, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s not thrilled to see you either. 

A beat passes. 

Two. 

Neither of you break eye contact. 

The silence extends to the point of discomfort for all four onlookers, each of them hesitant to break the tension that’s rising by the second. 

Finally, Dr. Kim takes a knife to the tension. “Do you two know each other?” 

Park Sunghoon. Renowned figure skater at your rival university. Someone with such a natural knack for carving lines through ice that whispers of prodigy have been shadowing his footsteps since the minute he put them on a rink. 

Someone with his head so far up his own ass you’re not sure how he can see half the time, much less keep his hair looking so perfect. 

Oh, you know him alright. 

“___?”

And it would seem he remembers you as well. 

It also answers Dr. Kim’s question well enough. 

“Ah, good.” It sounds like a question, like she’s hoping your acquaintance will be a positive thing instead of a disaster. You don’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. “The figure skating community is tight knit, I suppose.”

You suppress a scoff. That’s one word for it, you guess. 

You remember when it felt that way to you, too. Before tight knit became too small. Back before university, when it felt like it was you and Park Sunghoon against the world, instead of against each other. Back when the two of you didn’t skate for opposing teams but instead were members of the same club. A time when you took the ice together, skated as partners until he—

You force your thoughts to stop in their tracks. Your blood pressure has spiked enough in the last few days, and thinking back on long days spent with Park Sunghoon will only send it skyrocketing again. 

If anything, you’ll use this opportunity to practice perfecting your poker face for when you inevitably run into him at future competitions. 

And future competitions means you need a healed ankle, not a bruised ego. And certainly not an unpleasant trip down memory lane. 

Turning away from Sunghoon, you’re the first one to answer when Dr. Kim asks if you’re ready to get started. 

“Yes,” you tell her, determination written across your brow, in the set of your shoulders, and perhaps most noticeably, in the way you avoid Sunghoon’s wandering gaze for the next two hours. 

…

Without the rink, days are quick to meld into one another. It may be concerning, considering that you still have a set schedule of classes and homework to follow, but your life has revolved around training for so long that it’s hard to tell Mondays from Wednesdays without a set practice schedule. 

Thankfully, you do still make it back to the clinic at the right time on the right day, this time for another session with Dr. Kim and your fellow band of broken athletes. 

Including him. 

Aside from the glaringly obvious exception, you’re not as bothered at the thought of returning as you feared you might be. 

Jungwon, Niki, and Jake have proven themself pleasant enough company, and Dr. Kim seems to have built an understanding of how difficult it is to be forcibly removed from the sport you love. As such, she’s one of the least aggravating medical professionals you’ve spent time around. 

“Hey,” Niki greets when you arrive. “Did you have a good weekend?”

You shrug. “Good enough. Mostly just catching up on homework.” Setting your bag down and switching out your shoes, you join him on the mat, beginning the series of warm-up stretches Dr. Kim instructed you through last week. “What about you?”

“Not too bad. I got some good news from my doctor, actually.” He switches legs in his stretch, and you’re almost envious of his flexibility. He’s a dancer, and an exceedingly good one at that. One with an unfortunate knee injury at the moment. “My x-rays are looking a lot better. He thinks I might be able to start easing back into regular use by next month.” 

“That’s great,” you smile, even as a pang of jealousy stabs somewhere near your gut. “I’m really happy for you, Niki.” 

“A month still feels like forever, though, doesn’t it?” He sighs. “I can’t remember the last time I was out of the studio for this long.” 

Jungwon slides down onto the mat next to you, joining in on the stretch routine. “Consider yourself lucky, man. They told me at my last check-up that I probably won’t be able to do any jumping or kicks again for at least three months even though the fracture is already mostly healed.” He shakes his head. “No jumping or kicking,” he echoes, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You know, things that are super easy to avoid in taekwondo.”

“If it’s any consolation, I just got told that I’m gonna have to sit out of regionals this year. Which means I’ll have no way of qualifying for nationals.” You wonder how many times you’ll have to admit that particular reality to yourself before the sting starts to fade. 

“That sucks.” Jake agrees, coming down to the mat and occupying the spot next to Niki. “I’ll probably have to sit for this entire season, too. I love my team, but it’s so frustrating watching them play when I know I could be an asset on the field.”

“That’s true.” You’re struck by a sudden wave of sympathy. “At least skating is an individual sport, so the only person I have to disappoint is myself.” 

“Speaking of skating,” Jungwon sounds hesitant as he approaches the subject. “Do you and Sunghoon, uh…” he pauses for a moment in search of a neutral way of framing the unmistakable tension that surfaced the last time he saw the two of you together. “Do you two know each other?”

Grimacing internally, you suppose an explanation was bound to be solicited after your icy reunion. “We skate for rival universities.” Your gaze fixes on a spot on the ground. “And before college we used to, uh, we used to skate for the same club.”

The three boys share a glance. It’s hardly an explanation for the venom you said his name with but before they can press you further, the subject in question enters the room. 

Again, he takes his time setting his bag down, getting his things ready. This time, he also pulls out an obnoxiously big pair of headphones, secures them over his ears before he bothers to turn around. Despite the fact that all three boys offer him friendly smiles and waves, he returns the gesture only with a tight smile, making his way to the mat on the opposite side of the room before he begins his stretch routine.

It’s a message that rings loud and clear. A frown passes between Jake, Jungwon, and Niki. It’s obvious to you, then, that you’re the reason he chose to set himself up as far away as physically possible. 

So be it, you think, letting the slight roll right off of you. It’s not the first time he’s given you the cold shoulder for something he plays an equal part in, and you doubt it will be the last. 

Besides, it will only make your sessions pass by quicker, if the burden of avoiding gazes and minimizing interactions falls on his shoulders instead of yours.

With nothing but a shrug, you adjust slightly, ensuring that the only view he has of you is of your back. 

…

It’s a pattern that continues as physical therapy sessions start to become a regular routine in your week. Sunghoon, with his apparent disdain for anyone’s time but his own, is always the last to arrive. He also continues his habit of picking the spot in the room furthest away from you. 

Despite the fact that you’d like to chalk it up to his social ineptitude alone, that explanation doesn’t track. Although there’s still a certain aura of aloofness that follows where he goes, it’s too often that you see him smiling at a joke cracked by Jake or sharing easy conversations with Jungwon and Niki.  

Hell, he even interacts with Dr. Kim with a level of warmth you didn’t know was possible coming from him. If there’s any disdain in their conversations, he directs it all towards his right wrist. It’s why he’s here, you assume. Encased in a brace similar to the one you wear on your left ankle, his right forearm seems to be the reason for his attendance. 

It’s hard to not be envious. While a wrist injury is nothing to scoff at, it doesn’t necessarily keep you off the ice. Not in the same way a fractured ankle does. 

Refocusing your thoughts, you push the boy across the room firmly out of mind as Dr. Kim helps adjust you into the next stretch.

“How about now?” Dr. Kim pushes your spine a fraction of an inch further, pressure light but demanding. Before, this much flexibility would have been an easy request of your body, but lack of use has your muscles feeling tight. “Any tightness or pain?”

“No.” The bead of sweat on your brow begs to differ, as does the way the negation slipped through gritted teeth. 

But you’re frustrated. Annoyed at the progress you’ve lost, at the new limits of your body, at the way you feel like a stranger in your own skin. 

Across the room, you miss the flicker of annoyance that flits over Sunghoon’s features. Headphones on as always, you imagine you’re nothing more than a blip on his radar, a pesky intruder that’s easily ignored as long as he has his back to you. 

“Hm,” Dr. Kim muses. “You’ve retained more flexibility than I expected.” She offers you a smile. “That’s a good thing, a sign of a quick recovery.”

You suppress a grimace. It should be a good thing. You should be recovering quickly. If only you could get your stupid body to cooperate. 

Stealing another glance at the boy across the room, you can’t help the way a small burst of rage bubbles in your stomach. Prodigy. Why does he always get to be the anomaly, the exception to the rule? His injury is already less severe than yours, and he’s probably recovering quickly, too. Without even having to fake it.

Easing you out of the stretch, Dr. Kim jots down a quick note. “I’ll have Dr. Min run another x-ray at your next visit.” Nodding towards your ankle, she adds, “I think there’s a good chance that things are looking a lot better, and updated x-rays will help guide our next sessions.” She pauses for a minute. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself or get your hopes up, but I think we might be able to start putting some weight back on it soon. Start getting it stronger again.” 

You’re hesitant to let your excitement grow too much. But it would be a lie if you weren’t already counting the days until your next visit with Dr. Min in your head. “Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll hope those x-rays come back looking good, then.”

“Me too,” she smiles. “I’ll see you next week, then. Hopefully with good news.”

You nod, returning her smile before heading to the door to gather your things. Jungwon catches you on your way out. 

“Hey, ___, hold on a sec.” When you turn back towards him, he tells you, “The rest of us are gonna grab lunch at a place nearby, if you want to join.”

Your uncertainty must write itself across your features, because he’s quick to add, “Don’t worry. Sunghoon won’t be there. He’s got a class right after this.”

Slightly embarrassed by the way he read you so easily, you nod. “Sure. Lunch sounds good.” Despite their friendliness with Sunghoon, you’ve come to like the three of them. And it’s been far too long since you broke up the monotony of class, homework, and medical appointments with something as simple as lunch with friends. 

And as long as he’s not there, you imagine it will be nothing but pleasant. 

It doesn’t take long for them to prove you wrong. 

Niki barely lets you get one bite in before he asks, “So, what exactly happened between you two?” Even without the name, the question is obvious. 

Still, after choking on the sip of water you’d been taking, you answer, “Who?”

Jake just gives you a look. 

You sigh. “Like I said, we used to skate for the same club. We, uh, never really got along, I guess.” Avoiding eye contact, you add, “And now we skate for rival schools. I suppose it’s only natural to not like each other.”

Niki doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, that sounds made up.”

Jungwon swallows his bite, parts his lips like he has something to say. Internally, you heave a sigh of relief. If any of the three of them spare you, you have a feeling it would be him. “I mean, it does seem like something else must have happened.”

Or not. 

“You don’t have to tell us,” he adds. “But it’s just… I mean, the two of you can’t even look at each other.”

Sighing, you suppose the circumstances do look odd from the outside. “There was… an incident. Back when we used to skate together.”

“What?” Jake asks. “Did he steal your skates right before a show or something?” 

“No, no.” You shake your head. “It happened on the ice, actually. During a program.”

“Wait,” Niki interrupts. “You said you used to skate together. Do you mean like, as partners?”

The guilt on your face says it all. 

“No way.” Jake says. 

Jungwon’s eyes grow bigger. “What did he do?”

“Yeah,” Niki turns to face you fully. “Wouldn’t being his partner be a good thing? At least on the ice, I mean. I know he can be a little insufferable, but isn’t he some sort of prodigy—”

“Prodigy, my ass.” You’re so sick of that goddamn word. “Wasn’t a prodigy when he dropped me in the middle of our program at junior nationals, was he?”

The way all three or their jaws drop in unison is almost worth the admission. 

But the thing is, he was. No accusatory fingers pointed in his direction after it happened. No one blamed prodigy Park Sunghoon for the mishap. 

No, it was decided fair and square by the jury of public opinion that the mistake was entirely your fault, your burden to bear. And it’s not like you were immune to the criticism. Whispers followed where you went. And you always, always managed to hear them. 

Maybe if you’d trained a little harder, completed the second rotation a little sooner, the skill would have gone off without a hitch, they mused. Hell, maybe if you’d stuck to your diet a little better, those last two pounds would have spelled the difference between a perfect landing and your ass on frozen ground, program music still crescendoing as onlookers watched with horrified fascination.

“Oh,” Jungwon grimaces. 

“That’s rough,” Niki agrees. 

And they don’t even know the worst of it. Don’t know that back then, at sixteen, you’d had a giant, soul crushing, earth shattering, massive crush on your skating partner. That you searched for his approval just as eagerly as you’d sought out Coach Kang's. 

That you’d squeezed in as many extra practice sessions as physically possible for five months leading up to the routine just to make sure you were as close to flawless as possible, just to make sure you were chosen to be his partner on the ice. 

That you giggled, giggled, when you saw the matching costumes the two of you would wear for the first time. 

That you followed where he went with long sighs and lovesick eyes. That you looked forward to the grueling hours you spent on the ice with him, turning perfection into something even greater. 

That your heart skipped a beat every time you ran through your program, every time he caught you with sure hands and a strong grip. 

That Park Sunghoon never made a mistake, never let you fall, not once. 

Not until a spotlight was spinning dreams into reality and you were already anticipating the secret smiles you’d share with matching gold medals around your necks. 

Not until it all shattered in a single moment. 

It was cold, as you laid there on the ice, sprawled out and unable to move from the sudden shock of it all. Luckily, you’d avoided any critical injuries. You had staggered off the ice with nothing but some bad bruising, the worst of it staining your ego and your heart. 

And after it all, no matter how many times you passed him on your way to the locker room, shared the ice with him, or searched for the gaze he pointedly avoided across the room, Park Sunghoon never uttered the two words that just might have made you forgive it all. 

Instead of an apology or even the decency of an explanation, you got a cold shoulder and a lost friendship you were too confused by to mourn. 

In the end, you’d decided to turn it all into a blessing in a very thorough disguise. From that moment onwards, all of your time on the ice was dedicated to you and you alone. Never would you let anything but the sheer strength of your own will, your own goals, motivate you to become better, faster, stronger. 

And you found that victory tasted even sweeter, when the full weight of it could rest on your shoulders alone. When no one could whisper behind their palms that the only reason you stood on the podium was a prodigy of a partner. 

So fine. Park Sunghoon didn’t owe you shit. Not an apology, an explanation, or even a second glance. 

And if he was a prodigy, an ice prince or whatever stupid title he’d earned alongside his medals, well, you’d just have to be even better.

But now, sitting across from new friends with a fractured ankle and a ruined shot at medalling this year, a quiet part of you admits for the first time that maybe, just maybe, part of that resolve is nothing but spite in disguise. Part of the anger you’ve clung to for so long isn’t directed at him, but at yourself. 

That it was embarrassing to fall in front of a crowd, yes, but it was also humiliating to know that he was hearing all those little comments about your inferiority too. To realize that his silence meant he probably agreed. That you were a liability of a partner, unequal in both skill and importance. That he could move on from the incident, from you, completely unscathed. 

That your little crush was entirely one-sided, just like the respect and admiration you’d once felt for him. 

You stare at the half-eaten lunch in front of you, appetite suddenly completely gone. 

“What a coincidence that the two of you ended up injured at the same time,” Jake muses. 

“And in the same physical therapy group.” Jungwon nods. 

“Yeah,” you echo hollowly. “What a coincidence.”

…

When Park Sunghoon speaks to you for the first time in five years, it’s completely by accident.

As the weeks have continued on, you’ve fallen into a perfect routine during your shared physical therapy sessions. A routine of avoidance, ignorance, and as much space between the two of you as physically possible. It’s become so easy that the two of you navigate it with the kind of grace only two elite figure skaters could ever manage. 

If anything, it’s more awkward for the other members of your session than it is for the two of you. Jungwon, Jake, Niki, and Dr. Kim are the ones suffering as they try to stay friendly with both of you without icing out the other. 

It must be why he doesn’t even bother to check who it is that’s standing right next to him as he reaches for his bag on the shelf near the front door at the end of another session. Must be why he says it in a voice so casual you don’t think it’s him at first. “How pissed do you think Dr. Kim will be if I’m late again next week?”

Even though the voice doesn’t quite fit, you half expect to see Jake standing next to you when you turn to the side. 

Sunghoon realizes his mistake at the exact same second you do. You watch as shock flickers across his features, quickly replaced by something guarded, unreadable. Just as completely closed off to you as always. 

It pisses you off, the way he’s so utterly and completely unaffected by you. The way he can brush you off as easily as a piece of dust. Insignificant. Unimportant. Unwanted. It has you freeing the reins on comments you should bite back instead. 

“Hard to say.” Ice and resentment drip from every syllable. “Then again, I’m surprised you care about what she thinks. Doesn’t seem like something that would bother you.”

That at least earns you some of his emotion. Another bout of shock crosses his face before it shifts to confusion and falls finally to anger. You can see it in the furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. The flare of heat in his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

If he falls to anger, you’ll rise above it. At least on the outside. There’s no accounting for the way your gut twists in rage. Still, you offer him a smile that’s almost as fake as it is sickeningly sweet. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you spend enough time thinking about it.” It’s patronizing, and intentionally so. You hope it annoys him enough to keep him up tonight. 

Reaching for the front door, you take your exit first. The hallways of this building have become familiar over the weeks. Even with anger clouding your vision and a bad ankle, you trace a steady path to the parking lot. You’re halfway to your car when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks. 

You freeze for a moment, turning the sound of it over in your brain, stuck on the way it almost sounds like a plea, a prayer coming from his lips. The sound of footsteps draws nearer. They fall quickly, as if he’s running. Your indecision still renders you immobile. 

“Hold on a second. Did I… Did I do something to upset you?”

If you thought you were angry before, you’re surely seeing red now. How dare he. 

Spinning around, you only hope you sound as outraged as you feel. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

“What? No.” His brow furrows. “I mean, I know our schools are technically rivals and all, but we haven’t really seen each other in years.”

“Right, because you’ve been so sunny and welcoming since I joined the group.” And because the last time we saw each other ended on such great terms.

“I was giving you space. You practically bolted like a scared cat when you saw it was me.” He runs a hand through his hair. You hate the way it falls perfectly back into place. And you hate the way he looks so good doing it. “But clearly you’ve got something against me.”

The audacity, the sheer, utter audacity. There’s no trace of humor when you say, “You’re hilarious, really.” And there’s no room for debate when you turn away from him again, continuing to walk towards your car. 

“Wait,” he tries, but it falls on deaf ears. “God, ___, would you just hold on for a second, I—”

You turn. To do what, you’re not entirely sure. But before you can decide, the grip he has on his car keys loosens, the fingers of his right hand less dexterous than usual thanks to his arm brace. He still has his reflexes though. With his other hand, he manages to stop them from falling completely. 

“Better take care of that.” You jerk your chin to where he awkwardly fumbles with his keyring, trying to find a better grip. “Wouldn’t want to drop those too.”

His gaze snaps to you, eyes wide, mouth slightly slackened. The keys fall from his grasp, metal clinking delicately on the pavement. A million questions swim across his features, none of which you’ll give the grace of answering. 

Instead, you turn around once more. You make it all the way to your car, all the way out of the parking lot, all the way home. 

And he never says your name once. 

…

The following Tuesday, you are the last one of the group to arrive. And while you would usually never pass up the opportunity to best Sunghoon at anything, including being the latest arrival, competition is not the reason for your tardiness. 

It’s avoidance. That, and the fact that you had to spend eleven minutes giving yourself a pep talk in the car before you could work up the nerve to approach the front doors of the clinic. In the end, it’s a glance down at the boot on your left foot that does it. You’ve let Sunghoon ruin your chance at a gold medal once, and you’ll be damned if you let him do it again. 

Besides, your last visit with Dr. Min was a good one. Your ankle hasn’t healed quite as much as Dr. Kim suspected, but progress is progress, and you’re making plenty of it, according to your most recent x-rays. 

You enter the session with an apology for Dr. Kim and concentrated efforts to not let your gaze wander to the back corner of the room as you make your way over to where Jake and Jungwon sit. Starting your stretches, you assume Niki is over with Sunghoon, but you can’t work up the nerve to confirm that. 

Despite her initial annoyance at your tardiness, Dr. Kim is equally pleased at your latest x-ray results and gives you the green light to switch out the resistance bands you’ve been using for the next level up. Just as you’re reaching for the set of red bands on the shelf next to the treadmills, a set of obnoxiously smooth hands gets there first. 

Turning to Sunghoon with narrowed eyes, you grab the end of the band set he just snatched out from under you, eyes ablaze. 

The little fucker has the gall to roll his eyes. “What are you doing?”

You yank on the band. He doesn’t even flinch, grip steady. “I’m trying to follow Dr. Kim’s instructions,” you inform, tone flat. 

This time when you yank again, he yanks back. Much to your annoyance, he’s able to exert enough force to have you stumbling forward. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“And it’s working,” Niki whispers to Jake and Jungwon in the back corner of the room. Dr. Kim just shakes her head. 

“Just take the green bands,” Sunghoon suggests. 

“They don’t have enough resistance. I need these ones,” you argue. “Why don’t you take the green ones?”

“Pretty sure if one of us takes the lighter bands, it should be you.” Sunghoon tightens his grip. “Or are you seriously trying to claim that you’re stronger than me right now?”

“I’m using them for my legs, you absolute jackass. Which are definitely stronger than your forearms.”

Sunghoon cocks a brow. “Should we put money on it?”

“You are such a dick. Dr. Kim literally—”

“Has another set of red bands,” the woman in question interrupts. She levels the two of you with an exasperated look as she holds them out in front of her. “There’s another set of every color on the equipment shelf next to the door.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, pulling back a little on your end of the band before you release it, just to hear the small cry Sunghoon lets out when it snaps against the skin of his good wrist. “Thanks.”

And the satisfaction that comes from completing your usual number of reps with a higher resistance is almost as gratifying as when you see Sunghoon rubbing at the still reddened skin on his left wrist as you pack up to leave for the day. 

“Those two are gonna kill each other,” Jungwon tells Jake and Niki as the three of them walk to their cars, brow creasing in concern. 

“Or something,” Jake agrees. 

Niki hoists his bag up on his shoulder. “My money’s on ___.”

A contemplative look passes between Jake and Jungwon before they nod in unison, “Yeah.”

…

You’re in the middle of passing a medicine ball back and forth with Jake the following week when he asks, “Are your school’s finals next week too?”

And although it’s hard to believe, first semester is already drawing to an end as the days get shorter and assignments get longer. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m up to my ass in essays right now.”

“Same,” Jake agrees. “Sometimes it makes me wonder how I do it when I’m training, too.” Although you agree, a pang of jealousy is the only thing his words inspire. Of the skaters on your team that are preparing to compete as you speak. That have already choreographed their routines and selected their music and are spending every waking moment perfecting each and every detail of their program. 

It’s hard. It’s brutal. You’d be the first to admit that. But you miss it all the same, so much it hurts. 

A moment passes before he continues. “Well, anyway, Jungwon, Niki, and I were thinking that since none of us are training right now, we should celebrate the end of the semester like everyone else does.”

You arch a brow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Right, sorry,” he apologizes. “Consider this your formal invitation to get absolutely shitfaced with us next Friday.”

The laugh that bubbles in your throat is so unexpected you can’t quite bite it back. While you have your fair share of good, old-fashioned fun, he’s right. Every other semester, you’ve celebrated the end of finals season with a cup of hot tea and an early night in bed. Traded one source of stress for another as you woke up bright and early the next day to hit the ice. 

You send him a smile, tossing the medicine ball back in his direction. “Count me in.”

…

The following Friday night finds you double-checking the address on your phone before tentatively knocking on the front door of what you hope is Jake’s apartment. In the middle of the university district across the city from your own, you can’t say you’re familiar with any of the buildings outside of the athletic complex, which you’ve only ever visited for a handful of competitions. It strikes you then that this is also the university Sunghoon attends. And, stomach dropping, that you never actually asked who all would be attending tonight.

Before you have the chance to spin on your heel and high-tail it down the stairs you just climbed, the door swings open. It’s not Jake. 

“Oh,” you mumble. The boy who opened the door is not Jake, but he is very much attractive. “Sorry. I’m looking for Jake Sim’s apartment.” Your voice turns up at the end like a question. 

“You’re in the right place,” he smiles, and it’s gorgeous. “I’m Heeseung, Jake’s roommate. You must be ___.” He opens the door wider, allowing you space. “Come on in.”

“That’s me.” You offer him a grateful smile as you enter, hanging your coat and sliding your shoes off. 

The interior is surprisingly sophisticated, for a college boy’s apartment. It’s clean, for starters, and as you follow Heeseung down the hallway towards the kitchen, you can’t help but be impressed by their choice in decor. 

“Help yourself to anything.” Heeseung gestures to the impressive spread of snacks on the table. “But first, can I get you something to drink?”

“Um…” Your lack of alcohol-related knowledge is apparent, and the uncertainty must be obvious, because Heeseung just smiles again. 

“I’ve got you.” There’s an undertone of something in his words. Something playful, something bordering on flirty. But it’s too subtle to tell for sure, and you’re not one to bet on losing odds. He reaches for a glass and a handful of ice cubes. “Do you like fruity flavors?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That sounds good.” Besides, it’s been a minute since you’ve been well and truly flirted with at a college party by a boy that looks like he could spell trouble in his sleep. This could be fun, you think.  

Glancing towards the adjacent living room, you notice the usual familiar faces. Jake and Niki are sitting on the couch while Jungwon chats with a boy you don’t recognize. Eyes tracing the perimeter, you feel your shoulders tense when they land on a familiar silhouette. Sunghoon has his back to you, but his identity is just as unmistakable as it was on your first day of physical therapy. Like Jungwon, he’s talking to another person you don’t know. 

Oh, well. It’s too late to back out now and too early to make an exit. If you and Sunghoon can coexist in a room once a week without starting too many fires, you’re sure you’ll manage to get through tonight just fine. 

Heeseung hands you a full glass. It’s cold where it meets your fingertips. 

“Should we join them?” He inclines his head toward the living room and you nod. 

Following in his footsteps, you wave a quick greeting to Jake before taking a seat next to Heeseung, enough space between you and Sunghoon for you to relax slightly.

“How do you and Jake know each other?” You ask, searching for something to fill the silence, to keep the conversation flowing. “Do you play soccer together?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No, we’ve been friends since elementary school. But I am on the basketball team, which helps. I feel like student athletes just kind of get each other, you know?”

You do know, and you tell him as much. The crazy schedule, the unwavering commitment. It’s much easier to explain to someone that’s living through the exact same thing. 

“Speaking of which, you’re a figure skater, right? For the university across town.”

You arch a brow. “I’m surprised Jake told you so much about me.”

“Not nearly enough,” he flirts, and this time it’s blatant. 

You take another sip of your drink with upturned lips, weighing a response on your tongue. Before you can decide how many cards you’d like to show, you make eye contact across the room with the one person you were hoping to avoid. 

Sunghoon looks equally—scratch that—even more displeased to see you. Jawline so taught you could cut your finger on it and lips drawn in a straight line, he’s pissed where he locks eyes with you from his seat. Sunghoon is the one to avert his eyes first. Throwing back whatever’s in his cup, he slices through the moment of tension with a knife. 

If Heeseung notices the way your breath splutters, he doesn’t comment. Thankfully, Jungwon chooses the next moment to say his hellos and introduce you to the boys you hadn’t recognized earlier. 

“Sunoo,” he nods towards the boy he’d been sitting with earlier, who offers a friendly greeting. “And that’s Jay, over by Sunghoon. And you’ve already met Heeseung.”

“And you all go to school here?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon nods. “Jay and I live together, and Sunoo is Niki’s roommate.”

“You’re deep in enemy territory,” Heeseung elbows you lightly, teasing. “What are we gonna do with you?”

You lift your now empty glass towards him, grinning. “Get me another drink, hopefully.”

Sending you a wink, he takes the glass from your outstretched hand before standing from the couch. “On it.” You watch his back retreat into the kitchen, oblivious of the second one that follows it a handful of moments later. 

Jay, as it turns out, is not an athlete, but does play guitar for a local  band your friend has been raving to you about for ages. He’s already promising you two sets of complimentary tickets to every one of their upcoming shows by the time you realize Heeseung’s been gone for a while. Too long. 

Excusing yourself, you head toward the kitchen. And it’s just your luck that you find the person you’ve spent the evening avoiding, instead of the one you’re searching for. Even with the buzz of your first drink fading rapidly, your inhibitions are feeling low. 

Sunghoon barely has the chance to register your presence before you’re laying out accusations. 

“I know you don’t like me, but do you really have to spend the whole night glaring at me like that? In front of everyone?”

Sunghoon’s shoulders tense, a confirmation that he hears you, but he says nothing. Instead, he just swallows the remainder of his drink in one large gulp. His eyes are still flaring, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you did something to piss him off. 

But it’s just like him, to avoid conversations he doesn’t want to have with the end of another drink. To treat you like someone not even worthy of a response. You don’t know why you expected anything different. Scoffing, you notice the full drink sitting on the counter. Heeseung must have had the chance to refill it before disappearing. 

You move to step around Sunghoon and reach for it when he finally says, “I’m not glaring at you.”

The gaze you level him with is incredulous. “Do you think I’m stupid? I have eyes—”

“For all I know you are stupid!” Sunghoon sighs, drags an open palm down the length of his face. “I mean, are you really gonna let some guy you just met pour your drinks all night?”

“Heeseung?” You’re confused why all of his rage seems to be directed towards something so insignificant. “He’s Jake’s roommate”

“And a complete stranger to you.”

It’s infuriating, the way he assumes his opinion should hold any weight in your life. The way he thinks he has any say in your decisions. “So should I avoid all the food now too?” You’re being petty now for the sake of it. “I mean, since you’ve been in here unsupervised for quite a while now.” You take another step towards your drink and he moves, blocking your path with his body. 

When you look up, you find his eyes already trained on you, and there’s no ice in them now. Just pure, unadulterated heat. Fire. Flames that lick the base of your spine. “You’re so fucking agitating, you know that?”

“I’m agitating?” You take another step forward, hoping the proximity will force him away. It doesn’t. If anything, he leans into it. Into you. 

You reach for the drink again. This time, he stops you himself. Fingers of his unrestricted hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Yeah.” His words are low, voice a caress even as it drips venom. You feel his breath ghost across your cheekbone. “Real fucking agitating.”

Your eyes are still locked on his, and you search them for a hint of something coherent, something that makes sense. Every bone in your body drawn taught, it’s as if muscle memory reverts you to the last moment you were like this, the last moment he held you this close, body entwined with his own in a familiar embrace. Your wrist slackens in his grasp. 

Last time, he dropped you. Sent you scattering across ice until the only thing you could taste was the bitterness of defeat and the sharp sting of humiliation. 

Last time, he let you fall. 

You have no idea what he’ll do now. 

In the end, it’s the sound of approaching footsteps that has the two of you springing apart, your wrist falling from his grip. In the scramble, you remember your original target. 

Despite the long melted ice, this drink feels even cooler in your grip, a stark contrast to the simmering heat just beneath your skin. 

When Heeseung enters, he’s tucking his phone into his pocket with an apologetic look. “Sorry, I had to take a call. My brother gets chatty at the worst times.” Nodding to your hand, he smiles, “You found your drink.” 

“Yeah, I did.” You take a step closer to the living room, closer to Heeseung. Further from Sunghoon. 

Glancing between the two of you, there’s a hint of uncertainty when Heeseung asks if you want to rejoin the others in the living room. 

You put his worries to ease and your questions to rest when you agree easily, not even bothering to give Sunghoon a second thought. 

You do seek his gaze one last time, though, before you follow Heeseung back to the party. Looking directly at him, you raise your glass in a mock toast. Without breaking eye contact, you bring the cup to your lips, swallowing half the drink in one long sip. When you do finally turn away, it’s to find the empty seat next to Heeseung. 

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant blur, trading stories and laughs with the people around you while Heeseung keeps the seat at your side warm. Sunghoon does you the favor of disappearing from sight after your stand off in the kitchen.

It’s easy to relax into the company of everyone else, so much so that you don’t see Sunoo until you’re running right into him, the contents of his cup saturating the front of your shirt. 

It’s a problem Heeseung is quick to solve, and the gray hoodie he offers you is cozier than any of your own with a scent that’s almost addicting. 

He’s sweet, you think. Sweet and charming and forward in all of the right ways. It’s solidified when he offers to join you on the porch when you tell him you’re stepping outside for some fresh air. It’s cemented when he accepts your refusal with nothing but a smile and the request that you “come back quick.”

Stepping outside, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re not alone. It would appear that your earlier assumption that Sunghoon must have gone back to his place was wrong. There’s no drink in his hand, but the way he sways with the gentle midnight breeze makes you think he’s still working through everything he downed earlier. 

Silently, you glance up at the cloudless night sky, at the way the stars seem to wrap around you. Gaze returning to Sunghoon’s back, you suppose the simplest course of action would be to leave before he realizes you’re here. You turn to do just that, to make good on your promise to Heesung, when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks. 

Or at least, you think that’s what he says. It’s hard to tell, with the way his syllables and sounds slur together. Turning back towards him, you find him already looking at you. He repeats your name, and this time around, it’s a bit clearer. 

His eyes trace a downward line from your face to your change in clothes. Something in his face crumples, withers. 

“‘M sorry,” he slurs, words not lining up quite right through the inebriation. 

“What?”

“That day.” The sudden onset of sincerity in his tone makes him seem more sober than he is. “I should have caught you.”

The stars in the sky suddenly don’t seem so far away. You must have heard him wrong. A crease forms between your eyebrows, eyes scanning over his features. They’re laid open in their honesty, no trace of deception. 

“I wanted to catch you. I tried to.” He sighs. “Was my fault.”

“I…” You search for words, for the vindication you’d always imagined you’d feel at his admission. In its absence, you find only confusion and an odd pang of regret. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. 

“Sorry for what? Why are you bringing that up?”

He just shakes his head, eyes falling to his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Like a broken record. His pain is wrapped up in there too, trapped in a loop time has never quite let it escape. 

When you return to the party, it’s with a jumbled excuse of needing to check on a pet cat you don’t have. 

In the haste of it all, you forget to so much as exchange numbers with Heeseung. But you do find the time to pull Jake aside on your way out the door, to make sure that he helps Sunghoon get home safe. 

…

The next morning greets you with a pounding headache and an unfamiliar hoodie draped over the back of your desk chair. It takes a moment of searching through hazy memories before recollection of that particular string of events finds you. 

With a sigh, you head out in search of water and Advil, sending Jake a quick message that you’ll stop by his apartment later to return Heeseung’s hoodie. 

Even a handful of hours later, you can’t decide if you hope Heeseung is home or not. It’s a Saturday afternoon after a long night, so you figure the odds are high. But you still can’t pinpoint whether that feeling in your gut is excitement or dread. 

In an effort to delay the inevitable, you take a detour before visiting Jake’s apartment again. Your rival university’s sports complex is just as nice as you remember it, large, pristine buildings that hold everything an athletics department could dream of. Fondly, you remember the first time you skated in this stadium, back in middle school. It had felt so big, then, so special, to be skating for such a large crowd. 

It felt even more special to be sharing the ice with someone who put dreams in your head and butterflies in your stomach. Still fairly new to pair skating, the two of you had put on a program with a less than favorable amount of deduction. 

But still. It was yours. It was special. It was shared. 

You wonder if he knew then, that one day he would be the reigning king of this very same rink. 

Probably, you think. Park Sunghoon never had the habit of letting things feel impossible. 

Looking down at the boot on your foot, you miss it, all of it, all at once. The late nights. The early mornings. The bruises and cuts and aching muscles. The determination after defeat. The elation after glory. The feeling of flying every time blade touches ice. 

The sign posted next to the stadium is an advertisement, a reminder, of the upcoming regional championships. There’s a pang of loss, a moment of grief, for your program that will have to wait for next year. 

But your x-rays are coming back better every time, and Dr. Kim is sure you’ll be back on the ice by the time spring comes. 

For the first time in a long time, you think it’ll be okay. You know you’ll be okay.  

In front of you, the stadium door opens, and you realize you’re standing right in front of the exit. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, quickly moving to get out of the way, but then you take a closer look. “Coach Kang?” you ask, just as she says your name with the same air of disbelief. 

It’s an odd feeling of synchronicity, to stumble into your childhood skating coach just as you’re reminiscing on the past. 

“It’s been so long,” she beams, pulling you in for a warm hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting a friend. What about you?”

“Coaches’ meeting,” she explains. “Trying to see if I can get some of my junior skaters in to watch a few practices before regionals.” Nudging you with her shoulder, she adds, “Speaking of which, how’s your program coming along? Are you getting excited?”

You shake your head. “I’m actually off the ice for this one.” Glancing down, you lift your booted foot in explanation. “Ankle fracture has me out for the rest of the season.”

“Oh, no.” Coach Kang places a consolatory hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. That has to be so hard.”

“It’s okay, actually.” You don’t know who’s more surprised, her at your admission, or you at the fact that you actually mean it. “Everything is healing up nicely, so I’m looking forward to an even better program next year.” 

“Well look at you, all grown up.” She smiles. “I can say that thirteen-year-old you would not have had such a good attitude about it. Honestly, I’m surprised a fracture was enough to stop you. You were always so stubborn about things. You and Sunghoon.” She lets out a short laugh as your shoulders tense at the mention of him. “I was just thinking about you two the other day, actually. We had a skater fracture his tailbone and argue until he was blue in the face that he still wanted to compete.” Shaking her head, she adds, “It reminded me of that time Sunghoon insisted on skating even though he’d just sprained his wrist.” She shakes her head again, releases a small laugh. “Never could keep you two off the ice.”

It all checks out, the stubbornness, the determination even when it was stupid. But you’re hung up on one detail. You’re sure you could list every one of Sunghoon’s skating injuries just as thoroughly as he could. But before the current one, you can’t recall any wrist injuries. “What? When did he sprain his wrist?” 

Coach Kang waves her hand flippantly, like the sinking feeling in your gut isn’t intensifying with every passing moment, like she isn’t about to confirm a realization you’re already dreading. “Oh, you remember. It was just a few days before nationals that one year.”

That one year. She skirts around it, for your sake probably. But you know exactly what she means, when she’s referring to. 

And suddenly, you’re falling through air again, plummeting towards ice as a hand makes a desperate attempt to catch you. As sheer will alone is no match for injury weakened bones and ligaments and muscles. As you’re sliding across frozen ground and he’s gripping his wrist with pain on his face and terror in his eyes. 

As your head spins, spots clouding your vision from the force of the impact. Before the world goes black, your eyes search for him. 

And in those last few moments of consciousness, you watch as his mouth moves to form words you can’t hear. 

“I’m sorry.”

…

Raising your fist, you pound at the door again. One, two, three times. At this rate, your knuckles will be bloody before you get a response. 

But before you can start your assault on the wood in front of you again, the door swings open slowly, revealing a familiar frame. 

“You absolute idiot.”

“Well hello to you too.” Rubbing at his eyes, you appear to have just woken him from a nap. If his head is feeling anything like yours was this morning, you almost feel sorry. 

But there are more pressing matters at hand. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“That I’m an idiot? Probably not.”

“That you sprained your wrist three days before nationals? That you skated anyway? That you attempted to catch a person quite literally spinning through the air with a wrist injury?”

A beat of silence passes. 

And then another. 

Sunghoon suddenly looks wide awake. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. What the hell were you thinking?” There’s fire in your eyes, an anger that’s directed towards him but not in the ways he’s used to. 

He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your features for another beat. Finally, he sighs. “Would you have let me skate if I did?”

It’s not the answer you expect. And it’s just like him, to answer a question with one of his own. “I… what?”

“You heard me.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “Would you have let me get on the ice if you knew I was hurt?”

And what is it, him and his habit of asking ridiculous questions like they don’t have obvious answers. “What kind of question is that? Of course not. No one in their right mind would have let you do that program with a wrist sprain, much less your partner. And I love Coach Kang, but I’m about to file a negligence suit against her, because what the hell kind of—”

“Stop talking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, and you’re still getting used to the way apologies sound on his lips. “That came out wrong. What I was trying to say was that you… Well, I… I mean…” He trails off for the third time, casts a tentative look at the way your eyebrows only raise higher and higher every time he stops a train of thought in its tracks. His gaze falls down, somewhere between your nose and chin. An exhale passes through parted lips. Something in his resolve slips. “Oh, fuck it.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

Lips against lips and hands in your hair. It’s messy and awkward, and you can’t quite get the timing right. 

Sunghoon pulls back a fraction of an inch, catching his breath and letting you do the same. 

“What are you doing?”

There’s heat in his eyes and fondness too, a soft sort of expression that only melts further every time he looks at you. But now there’s anxiety in the mix, a crippling fear that he’s misjudged everything entirely, done something horribly wrong. 

“I’m sorry.” Before today, you could count his apologies on one hand. Now, you’re running out of fingers. “Did you not want—”

This time, it’s you that pulls him down, hands lacing around the nape of his neck, exhaling a soft sigh against parted lips that sends his mind spinning. 

And it’s only the second time, but it’s already better. Already a natural rhythm that the two of you seem to fall into with a little more grace. 

The expanse of his door is cold against your back when Sunghoon finally pulls you into his apartment using his good hand, and he’s a quick study. Attempt number three is an even greater improvement as hands search for new skin to discover and things start to fall into place, one at a time. 

Reaching for Heeseung’s forgotten hoodie, Sunghoon breaks the kiss only to toss it somewhere outside your current plane of existence. In this moment, you exist only within the space the two of you occupy, everything else an afterthought. 

And you have the feeling attempt number four will be your best yet. 

…

epilogue

“Are you ever gonna join me or do I just have to stay out here looking stupid forever?”

You don’t even take a moment to consider. “The second one.”

“Come on,” Sunghoon pleads, skating back towards you where you remain planted firmly to the bench on the perimeter of the rink. He moves towards you with a grace that used to inspire a raging, stomping green monster of envy. Now, you just admire the way he cuts across the ice with the agility of a dancer. “It’s fun out here, I promise.”

Avoiding his gaze, you let your eyes fall to your feet instead. They’re already laced up in your favorite pair of skates, black boot all but forgotten since you had it removed at your last visit to Dr. Min’s office. Since he gave you the green light to return to the thing you love most. 

You had been ecstatic then. Brimming with so much extra energy Sunghoon had to physically intervene to prevent you from accidentally knocking over an elderly lady on your way out of the hospital. But now, with the opportunity you’ve been dreaming of for long, hard months at your fingertips, something in you hesitates. 

Sunghoon says your name, and suddenly he’s serious. “This is all you’ve been talking about for months.” Sliding down onto his knees in front of you, you’re suddenly at eye level. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He casts a doubtful glance. “Really, I just…” It’s hard, to speak your fears into existence, to let them take flight. Even if the boy in front of you makes it a little easier. “What if it’s not what I imagined?”

It’s a million little worries wrapped up in one. What if your ankle isn’t the same? What if it’s never the same? What if you’re not as good as you were? What if you’re not good enough? 

Sunghoon hears them all, and puts them to rest with a smile, a gentle touch as he rests his forehead against yours. “You and that big brain. Always worrying about the wrong things.”

“Hey! I—”

“It won’t be what you imagined.” He draws back a few inches, and your eyes have nowhere to land but on his own. “It will be different. It will feel weird, and your legs will feel wobbly, your muscles will feel weak, and your ankle might give out.”

Your lips flatten into a thin line. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Sunghoon just pinches your cheeks together, forcing your lips to purse. “So you’ll show up. Over and over again. Every day until your skates start to feel like a second pair of feet and the ice starts to feel like home again. Until your ankle and your muscles and your stamina are all built back up, in a way that’s different from before but will feel familiar before you know it.” He presses a single, delicate kiss to the tip of your nose. “Until I’m dragging you off the ice instead of onto it, because your boyfriend needs attention and is feeling a little jealous of all the time you’re spending here instead of with him.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so needy. It’s gross.”

Sunghoon only smiles. “Only for you.”

This time, when he gets back on his feet and extends a hand, you take it. You follow him onto the ice and headfirst towards your insecurities feeling a little bit like a newborn deer, a bike without its training wheels. 

He laughs when you stumble and brushes hair out of your face when you pout. 

After an hour, you’re already feeling more solid than before. After two, that feeling of flying is starting to return. 

It’s somewhere just before hour three when Sunghoon says, “Remember how I told you earlier that you’re worrying about the wrong things?”

“Yeah.” You drag the word out slowly, not liking the hint of deviousness in his sudden grin. 

“This is what I was talking about. Instead of worrying about getting back on the ice, you should be worrying about how long it will take you to be able to beat me on a lap around the rink.”

“You absolute asshole. I fractured my ankle!”

Already halfway around the rink, Sunghoon just laughs. 

…

outtake—five years ago. 

Sunghoon’s vision is blurry. It’s a terrible combination of things—the exhilaration of the spotlight, the pain in his wrist, the grief of an egregious error. The sudden onset of tears that sting in the corners of his eyes and fall without his permission. 

Despite all of it, he finds his way back to his dressing room. Choking back a sob, he reaches for the glass of water he’d left out earlier. It tastes acidic on his tongue, burns like regret on the way down. 

Stupid, he was so stupid. His hands tangle in his hair. He wants to pull it out. Wants to scream until his throat is raw and he can’t anymore. 

It was a terrible enough decision to gamble his own fate on an unhealed injury, but as the reality of the situation comes crashing down around him, he realizes he’s done something much worse. 

Eyes open, eyes closed. It doesn’t matter. All he can see is you, sprawled out on ice, limbs bent unnaturally, eyes dazed at the impact. 

The unexpected impact. Because you trusted him. You trusted him so much that of course you’d never considered what you would do if his hands failed, if his wrist gave out. If he decided to risk your program, your fate, you, all on a whim, on an inflated sense of self-importance and a lack of regard for the injury he was so certain he could power through. 

He couldn’t imagine it, three days ago. Telling you that he was injured, that he couldn’t skate the program. He couldn’t imagine watching as the features he bashfully considered so, painfully pretty twisted into disappointment. Into anger. 

So he turned his shame into resolve, into determination. One that allowed him to catch you with a fractured wrist in every practice run. Every time, except for the time that mattered. Biting back grimaces and cries of pain all for the fool’s hope of seeing you smile in a few days’ time, a gold medal around your neck. 

Instead, he got to see you spinning through the air, slipping through his fingers, landing with a sickening thud. He wants to ask what hospital they took you to, wants to ignore the pain in his wrist a little longer and run there himself, just to make sure that you’re okay.

But then he imagines the way you’ll look at him when you see him. The way all that disappointment and anger he’d wanted to avoid so desperately will surely be all you have to offer him. 

He understands. He does. He wouldn’t want to see him either. 

Turning away from the mirror, he tucks away his shame for the future. But that only leaves his gaze landing on the bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. The one he’d spent nearly an hour agonizing over, the one his mother had assured him a dozen times you would love. The one he made sure had all of your favorite colors. 

He snuck his own favorite in there too, in hopes of what exactly he can’t be sure, but he knows he likes the way they look together—your favorite color and the deep blue irises that represent his own. 

It seems so stupid now. After everything, after this, he can’t imagine you want his flowers, and even less his favorite color. He can’t imagine that you want anything to do with him. 

So he doesn’t seek you out. Not in the hospital that day, not when you’re cleared to practice and back on the ice again, not when chance has the two of you colliding five long years later. 

Not until he watches you walk away from him with all that anger and resentment and disappointment he’s been so avoiding for so long. Not until it strikes him in the face and he realizes that he can’t live with it, can’t let bygones be bygones and hope time and the absence of him in your life have healed you for the better when it still hurts to even look at you. 

On a dressing room table, five years in the past, a bouquet of flowers wilts. 

And Sunghoon learns that with love and patience and a little bit of sunlight, beautiful things, even the fragile ones, bloom when you water them. 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

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