AHHHHHHHHHH MY BABIES đ„čđ„čđ„čđ„čđ„čđ„č
Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemptionâreborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.4K Warnings: angst, character d*ath, feelings of despair
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a/n: if I cried writing this chapter, ya'll are going to cry too đ
âThis morning, we bring you breaking news about the arrest of a 48-year-old woman involved in a harrowing incident connected to one of the nation's most prominent families. The woman, identified as the former nanny of the Choi Group heiress, was apprehended late last night following her mistaken discharge from Utopia Mental Health Facility.
According to investigators, the woman, whose identity is being withheld due to privacy laws, had been institutionalized after multiple previous incidents involving obsessive behavior toward the heiress and an attempted kidnapping of another six-year-old girl earlier this yearâŠâ
You sat quietly at the long wooden table in the conference room, your gaze fixed on the polished floor beneath your feet. The low hum of the news droned on in the background, the anchorsâ voices a static blur. Your bandaged arm rested on the table, the gash beneath the wrappings a painful reminder of how wrong everything had gone.
âWhat are we going to do!?â your mother paced around the room, her voice rising with every word. Your father sat silently at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. San and Jongho exchanged knowing looks, clearly expecting another one of her tirades.
âThe press wonât stop hounding us!â she exclaimed, her voice nearly cracking. âTheyâre everywhereâoutside this building, near our homeâtheyâre relentless! I mean, we canât even breathe without someone taking a picture or shouting questions!â
San leaned forward, his tone calm but firm.âKira and the firm are already doing everything they can to handle the situation. The best thing we can do now is to have Y/N lay low while the investigation continues. We need to let the lawyers and PR team do their job.â
Your mother whirled around to face him, her frustration palpable. âLay low? How exactly do you expect her to do that when her face is on every news channel right now?â
She grabbed this morningâs paper from the edge of the table and waved it in the air, the motion so aggressive it crinkled the front page. Your face stared back at you, frozen in a manufactured smile that you hated with every fiber of your being. It wasnât youâit was the version of you your family wanted the world to see.Â
You looked down at your hands, your bandaged arm resting awkwardly on the table. The memory of the attack flashed in your mind, sharp and vivid, as though it had just happened. This wasnât the kind of attention you wantedâthis wasnât the life youâd ever asked for. Yet here you were, front and center in a drama you had no control over, and it was tearing you apart from the inside out.
âWeâre already managing the narrative,â Jongho interjected.Â
âThe new cycle will shift, it always does. By this afternoon, Kim Namjoonâs official announcement for his political run will dominate headlines. Itâs a matter of hours. Security at all your properties has also been significantly tightened, as you requested.â
Your motherâs laugh was bitter, almost hysterical. âHow could security have been tightened when Y/N was still attacked in a public place!?â your mother shrieked, her voice growing shrill.
âYou were supposed to keep an eye on her, andââ
That was it. You stood up so abruptly your chair scraped against the floor, catching everyone off guard.
âIt was my fault,â you said, your voice shaking but growing stronger with every word.Â
âI asked Kira to let me go out with her because I didnât want to be locked away in the penthouse anymore. I made that decision. This is my mess, my problem, and no one elseâs. Pointing fingers wonât undo what happened, so can we stop pretending it will?â
Your mother stood frozen, her face pale, her mouth gaping like a fish gasping for air. She searched for a retort, an argument, anything to regain the upper hand, but you didnât give her the chance. Without another word you stormed out of the room, ignoring the calls from your family in your wake.
You didnât stop until you were in the corridor, far from their judgmental stares and suffocating expectations. Slowly, you slid down to the ground, your legs folding awkwardly beneath you. The tears youâd been holding back pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as you stared blankly at the ceiling. You hated crying, especially over this, over them. But it wasnât just the argument with your mother or the media circus that broke you down.Â
It was the loneliness.Â
The crushing realization that no one in that room really saw you or understood what you were going through. To them, you were an asset, a liability, a problem to solve. Not a person.
Your fingers trembled as you fumbled for your phone. But the moment you turned it on, your breath caught in your throat. Maroâs face stared back at you from your lock screen, a photo youâd taken just weeks ago.
His tiny tongue hung from the side of his mouth, his fur slightly disheveled from spinning in circles on the couch, chasing his own tail. Youâd taken the photo in the middle of laughing so hard you could barely hold your phone steady. You could almost hear the soft jingle of his collar as he burrowed into the cushions, glancing up every now and then to make sure you were watching.
But the laughter felt like a distant memory now, replaced by the crushing weight of grief. Your free hand moved to your bandaged arm and your fingers curled over the wound instinctively. Â
You sat hunched over in the waiting room of the emergency animal hospital with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second dragged on like an eternity, Every sound made you flinch, hoping it was someone coming to tell you heâd pulled through, that heâd be okay. But as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, your hope began to waver.
âY/N!â
You looked up to see Yeosang rushing toward you after you had called him on the way to the clinic.Â
âThey took him back to the operating room, butâbut they wouldnât let me go with him,â you whispered as he crouched down next to you.Â
âY/N, Iâm so sorry,â he squeezed your shoulder. âHeâs a fighter. Maroâs tough, and he loves you. Heâs not going to give up that easily, okay? And neither should you.â
âI donât know what Iâd do without him,â you admitted.Â
âHeâs the only one whoâs ever been there for me. Heâs a dog but through these last few months he never judged me, never made me feel like I wasnât enough. He just⊠loved me.â
âI canât lose him,â your voice cracked, and just like that, the dam broke. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, unguarded, as your body shook with uncontrollable sobs.
âHeâs all I have, Yeosang.â
âI know,â Yeosang replied quietly. âI know, Y/N. And itâs not fair. But you canât blame yourself. You did everything you could to protect him.â
His soft exhale filled the heavy silence that followed. Yeosang understood that no words could fix this. So, he simply stayed with you, letting your anguish fill the space, offering nothing but his quiet presence as you crumbled.
The sound of a door opening made you lift your head, your heart leaping into your throat. A vet in scrubs approached you, her expression solemn, and your stomach dropped. Her words were a blur, muffled by the roar in your ears, but you didnât need to hear them to know.Â
The look in her eyes said everything.
You curled in on yourself, your sobs muffled now as you pressed your face against your knees, as if trying to hold together the pieces of your shattered heart.
You let the grief take over, let the tears fall freely, because no one was there to see. You didnât know how long you stayed there, but when the tears finally slowed, leaving you drained and empty, you lifted your head and stared blankly ahead. Â
You were so tired. Tired of carrying everything alone, tired of being left behind. But no matter how much it hurt, you knew there was no one coming to share the weight. It was just you.
No one was coming. No one ever did.
It had always been just you.
â
Mingi sat in the garden, his small paws tucked neatly under him as he watched Hongjoong tend to his flowers. The garden was a vibrant burst of life and color. Golden marigolds lined the cobblestone pathways, nestled between the soft hues of blooming roses and sprigs of lavender. The gentle garden was otherworldly, which was appropriate considering where they are.
The afterlife was serene. Quiet. Too quiet, Mingi thought, though heâd never admit it. A part of him didnât want to accept that this was how everything would end.
That this was it.
That he wouldnât have the opportunity to make amends. That he wouldnât get to see you smile again. He wouldnât get to prove to you that he was worth forgiving, worth believing in, worth something at all.
He felt like he was suspended in a world that didnât quite belong to himâa visitor overstaying his welcome.
Mingi sat atop a stack of books piled high with a cushion, his small, fluffy body perched precariously as his tail swayed lazily behind him. His ears twitched as he watched Hongjoong move around the cozy cottage.
âComfortable up there?â
Mingi let out a soft huff. âI guess.â
The table was low enough for him to rest his paws on the edge, and he did so now, leaning forward as Hongjoong placed a small dish in front of him. Inside was a portion of scrambled eggs and bits of roasted sweet potato, the steam curling up in tendrils.Â
âI think these are dog friendly foods, but since youâre in the afterlife now, I guess anything goes.â
Mingi sniffed the dish suspiciously, then gave an approving wag of his tail before diving in, the mess from the food around his snout making Hongjoong laugh.
âItâs good, right?â he teased, watching as Mingi polished off every last bite.
Mingi responded with an enthusiastic wiggle of his behind, his entire body vibrating with happiness. Once the dish was licked clean, he flopped onto his side with a contented sigh, his paws stretching out dramatically.
The fullness from the meal brought a fleeting sense of comfort. For a moment, everything felt simple, like when heâd curl up beside you after a long day and your presence putting him at ease.Â
As his tail slowed and his breathing steadied, a hollow ache settled in his chest, heavier than the satisfaction of a good meal could counter. Mingi stared at the faint glow of the afterlifeâs sky out the window.
He missed you.
The thought that he might never get to tell you how sorry he was, how much he regretted every cruel word, every moment of neglect, made his chest tighten painfully.Â
Hongjoong moved among the flowers, humming a tune under his breath as he trimmed roses and pulled at weeds. Mingiâs eyes drifted to a bouquet of marigolds lying nearby, vibrant their bold orange and yellow petals standing out against the green backdrop.
His ears perked up as he stared at the flowers, a memory of you flickering to life in his mind. He remembered the day you brought home a similar bouquet, cradling it in your arms. Youâd smiled softly with a distant look in your eyes, and then you disappeared again, taking the flowers with you. He realized now that those marigolds were for Hongjoongâs grave.
âCan you see what happens in the human world?â
Hongjoong chuckled softly, as if the question didnât surprise him in the slightest. His hands stilled over a rose bush, as he turned slightly to glance over his shoulder at Mingi.Â
âSometimes,â he admitted, his gaze drifting upward, as if he could see past the skies and into another realm entirely. âItâs different for everyone. Some people can see glimpses, others nothing at all. It depends on what they hold on to when theyâre here.â
âWhat about you?â
âI made peace with the fact that I was going to pass. Maybe a flicker here or there, but itâs never clear.â
Mingiâs paws shifted against the dirt, unease settling in his chest. That meant Hongjoong might have seen the way he treated you. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to know how much he hurt you in ways he could never take back.
âDo you hate me? For how I treated Y/N?â
Hongjoong didnât respond. His expression remained unreadable, but Mingi could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Of course, Hongjoong hated the way Mingi had treated you. The way he dismissed you, how he walked away when you needed him most, leaving you to fend for yourself in ways you never should have had to. He hated the thought of you standing there, waiting for someone who never looked back.
And yet, Hongjoong also pitied Mingi. Because for all of his mistakes, for all of his cruelty and neglect, Mingi had been hurting too. As the saying goes, hurt people, hurt people.
âNo, Mingi. I donât hate you.â
Mingiâs ears twitched slightly waiting for the rest of his response.
âMore than anything, I just wanted you to know what itâs like to love someone and be helpless to stop their suffering. Because thatâs how I felt whenever I had the opportunity to glimpse into the human world.â
Hongjoongâs fingers trailed along the edge of a wilting petal, plucking it free and letting it drift to the ground. âButâŠâ he murmured, his gaze flickering back to Mingi.
âWhat matters now is what you do with the time you have left.âÂ
Hongjoongâs smile turned wistful. He didnât push for a response. Instead he gave Mingi the space to lean into his own thoughts. Mingi closed his eyes, his ears drooping as the weight of his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.Â
âIâŠâ Mingi started, but his voice wavered. He swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze to the ground as though afraid to meet Hongjoongâs eyes.Â
âI donât know if Iâll ever get the chance to tell her how sorry I am. I just wanted to be good for her. To show her that I can be better. That I want to be better.â
He turned to Hongjoong, the desperation tinged in his voice. "I want her to see me as someone she can trust. Not someone who always messes things up or leaves her behind." Mingi blinked back tears as he met Hongjoongâs gaze.Â
âI miss her. I want to see her, but this time as myself.â
Hongjoong didnât reply right away. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze drifting lazily toward the sky, where soft, golden light filtered through the clouds.Â
âI donât think it's over for you yet.â
Mingiâs ears flicked slightly, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean? Iâm here, arenât I? Thereâs nothing left for me to do. Nothing I can do."
He let out a quiet hum, neither confirming nor denying Mingiâs words. Instead, he stood, brushing stray petals from his sleeves before turning toward the small stone path leading away from the garden.
âItâs getting late, what do you want to have for dinner?â
You sat curled up on the couch in the suite, your chin resting atop your knees as you stared at Mingiâs body. Your fingers traced mindless patterns against the fabric of Maroâs collar. Sleep had been a stranger these past three days. The collar was a lifeline in your trembling hands, keeping you grounded as the weight of everything around you crushed youâthe incessant calls from reporters, your familyâs worried texts, the suffocating guilt.
The attack had turned your life into a circus. All you wanted was to disappear.
This room, though sterile and suffused with antiseptic air, was the only refuge you had left. Here, in the stillness of your husbandâs hospital suite, you didnât have to pretend to be okay.
âWhat do you think dogs do in heaven?âÂ
Your gaze dropped to your hospital slippers, the thin fabric worn down from countless restless nights pacing the suite. A sad smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head and set aside the collar.Â
This was your reality now: sneaking away from the penthouse just to sit beside your comatose husband, pouring your heart out to someone who, if and when he woke up, would probably scoff and dismiss you for wasting your time on him.
âI heard they all go to heaven,â you continued, as your voice grew quieter. âAt leastâŠthatâs what the movie says.â
A lump formed in your throat, making it harder to breathe, harder to swallow the ache.
âI think they get to run forever.â
You stared down at your hands, your fingers curling into the sleeves of your sweater.
âAndâŠâÂ
Your voice wavered slightly as you struggled to find the words.Â
âAnd thereâs an endless amount of treats.â
The first tear slipped down your cheek, warm and unbidden, as if your body couldnât contain the sorrow any longer. It was the smallest thing, but in that single tear, it felt like the world was coming apart. Your shoulders shook with a quiet sob, your chest tightening as you inhaled sharply. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to stop the flood, but it only made it worse.
âJ-Just big o-open fields where itâs s-sunny all the time.â
And maybe it was silly, this imagining of dogs in heaven, free and happy, without the pain or heartbreak that followed you here.Â
âGod, I just feel so alone, Mingi. I had the worst fucking week of my life,â you cried into the emptiness, your hands trembling as you clutched your chest, hoping you could physically hold yourself together. Â
âIf I hadnât begged Kira to let me go to that stupid store with her, this wouldnât have happened. None of it.â
The words came out like a confession, one you hadnât been brave enough to say aloud until now.Â
âItâs all my fault. Everyone leaves me and itâs m-my fault!âÂ
Your sobs filled the room, echoing back at you like a cruel reminder that no one was there to answer. No one was there to tell you that you were wrong, that it wasnât your fault, that the universe didnât conspire against you with every loss. But the silence gave no comfort.Â
âThis is getting ridiculous.â
Unseen, Wooyoung sat perched on his bench in the courtroom, watching over you with a weary expression. His chin rested on the back of his hand, fingers idly tapping against his jaw as he observed the way your body trembled from the weight of grief.
He had seen countless souls in despair, had judged and guided those lost between life and death. But you, your suffering was different.
It was the kind of sorrow that settled into a personâs bones, an ache that would not fade with time. And as much as Wooyoung pretended he had grown numb to such things, thisâŠthis he could not ignore.
His thoughts drifted to the one soul tied to yours, the one whose fate he had carefully molded with his own hands. A certain puppy who was at the center of your suffering, both the cause of it in his human form and, ironically, the brightest light in your life now.
If Wooyoung had to guess, Mingi had made you happier than you had been in your entire life. It was a miracle, really, considering who he had been before all of this. But for all of his faults, he had taken to his new form with an earnestness Wooyoung hadnât expected. He had tried.
The judge had watched him bumble his way through this second chance, a puppy who didnât quite know what to do with himself. It had been amusing at first: the way Mingi stumbled over his own paws, the way he wagged his tail a little too eagerly, desperate for your affection.
But somewhere along the way, something shifted.
He had seen the way Mingi softened, the way he clung to you like you were his home. The way he curled against your side as if he could take away your pain and carry it for you.Â
âSong Mingi, you idiot!â Wooyoung sighed, ready to pull his hair out.Â
This wasnât supposed to be the way things ended. Mingiâs final task was to make you truly happy, to undo the damage he had done. It was the last step before he could return to his human form. But no, he had to play the hero and sacrifice himself to protect you.
He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He hated to admit it, but there was something admirable about it. For all his faults, for all the pain he had caused you, Mingi had finally learned how to love you the way you deserved. He had given up everythingâhis second chance, his futureâjust to make sure you were safe.
Now you were left behind, drowning in the weight of his sacrifice and Wooyoung couldnât bear to see how miserable you were.Â
With a flick of his wrist, the air around him trembled, the very foundation of his courtroom bending to his will. The air split with a sharp crack, and in the blink of an eye, the room dispersed into smoke, replaced by the glow of the fireplace.
âAlright, Song Mingi,â he muttered, propping his feet on the dining table. âItâs time to go home.â
â
âYouâre late.â
Mingi blinked, his vision still adjusting as he lifted a paw to rub at his eyes, as if that would somehow make sense of what he was seeing.
âW-Wooyoung!?â
The judge sat comfortably at the dinner table, tapping his fingers lazily against the polished wood. His presence alone was jarring and Wooyoung never just showed up. If he was here, it meant something.
âItâs rude to keep guests waiting,â Wooyoung huffed, tilting his head in exaggerated disappointment. âIâve been sitting here for ages.â
âYou didnât have a reservation,â Hongjoong deadpanned, unimpressed as he set his basket of gardening tools onto the counter. Unlike Mingi, he wasnât startled by the unexpected visit. Instead he hummed a tune and busied himself around the cottage, grabbing ingredients for dinner.Â
âHongjoong,â Wooyoung whined.
âCan it wait until after dinner?â he replied. He set a pot of water on the stove, as if the all powerful judge of the afterlife wasnât currently lounging at their dining table.
âFine!â he groaned, kicking his feet up onto the chair beside him.
His gaze flickered to Mingi again, and suddenly, his expression shifted.
âOh my god.â His voice dropped to a whisper. âI forgot how small you are!â
Mingi flinched. âWhat?â
âNo wonder Y/N was so smitten with you,â he cooed, practically vibrating with excitement. âYouâre so cute!â
Mingiâs eyes went wide with horror. âNo, waitââ
He didnât stand a chance. Wooyoung lunged, faster than Mingi could react, scooping him up in one swift motion. Mingi let out an undignified yelp as he was lifted clean off the ground as his little legs flailed uselessly in the air.
He spun Mingi around in his arms, cradling him like the most precious thing in the world. Hongjoong, unbothered, continued chopping vegetables in the background, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board the only indication that he was even listening.Â
âI can see why all those women refused to leave you alone,â Wooyoung mused, studying Mingi as if seeing him for the first time.Â
Mingi let out a strangled noise of protest. âPut me down!â
Wooyoung ignored him, instead stroking the fur between his ears with a contemplative hum. âYou really donât get it, do you?â
Mingi froze, sensing the shift in Wooyoungâs tone. It wasnât teasing anymore. There was something thoughtfulâalmost wistfulâbeneath his words.
âI sent you there to right your wrongs,â Wooyoung said softly. âThat was the deal. But instead, you sacrificed yourself like an idiot. Do you know how miserable that made her?â
Wooyoung sighed, shifting Mingi so that they were eye to eye. âYou should see how sad Y/N is, I canât stand seeing her cry anymore.â
Mingiâs ears flattened as he processed Wooyoungâs words. That didnât make sense, did it? He had spent so much of his life pushing you away, saying the wrong things, hurting you without even meaning to. Even in the end, he had only caused you more pain by leaving.
Mingi swallowed hard, ears flicking. âBut⊠I always made her cry.â His voice was small. âHow could I have made her happy?â
Wooyoung huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. âYou really are hopeless,â he muttered. âShe was happy because you were there, dummy. Because you stuck around. Because, for the first time, you werenât just someone passing through her life. You stayed.â
Had he really made you happy just by being there? By choosing to stay by your side, even when he thought he didnât deserve to?
âYou didnât just make her smile a few times. You made her feel safe. You made her laugh. You made her happy without even realizing it. And you did it without asking for anything in return. I guess that's what dogs do.â
Wooyoung reached out, flicking him lightly on the nose. âAnd thatâs why youâre going back.â
âEh?â
âThatâs right!â Wooyoung declared triumphantly, placing him on the ground. He grinned, straightening up and placing his hands on his hips.
âEven if you are an idiot who charged in without thinking, what you did was the purest act of love you couldâve shown. You held up your end of the bargain so⊠a dealâs a deal.â
âIâmâŠIâm going back?â
Mingiâs tail wagged furiously, his entire body practically vibrating with excitement. He was going back. Back to you. He could see you again, hear your voice, feel your touch. He could fix things and make things right. He wouldnât waste this second chance.
âEat first,â Hongjoong interrupted, scooping up a bowl of stew for the puppy.
âYou wonât get far on an empty stomach.â
Mingi let out a tiny huff, his tail flicking in mild protest, but the rich aroma of the stew was too tempting to resist. He sniffed hesitantly before lapping at the bowl. The warmth of the broth spread through him instantly, soothing in a way he hadn't realized he needed. His stomach grumbled again, this time in appreciation, and he begrudgingly continued eating.
Between bites, his gaze flickered up to Hongjoong. Something about him seemed⊠different. His expression was just as calm and composed as ever, but there was a certain wistfulness in his eyes.
Mingiâs little tail wagged as he padded closer, tilting his head. âAre you okay?â
Hongjoong blinked, seemingly caught off guard for just a second before his lips curved into a small smile. Mingi peered up at him, and noticed the longing in his eyes. Not for something lost, but for something he once cherished.
Hongjoong reached out, ruffling Mingiâs fur with a gentle touch. âEven if things get difficult,â he murmured reassuringly, âI know everything will work out in the end.â
His hand lingered for just a moment longer before he pulled away.
âYou just have to fight.â
Your eyes shot open at the sound of the alarm blaring from your phone. The shrill tone cut through the silence of the hospital room, a jarring contrast to the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Blinking blearily, you forced yourself upright, disoriented for a moment before remembering you had set it for 8 AM, the time you usually fed Maro.
You exhaled slowly, rubbing the sleep from your face. You hadnât meant to doze off here again, but exhaustion clung to you. You needed to go home. There were things to do. You needed to eat, tooâhad you even eaten since yesterday? Probably not.
âY/NâŠâ
Your mind moved sluggishly through a mental checklist. Feed Maro. No, heâs not here anymore. Answer texts. Call Kira. Had you remembered to bring a change of clothes? You should grab something on the way home. Maybe coffee, too. Â
â...Y/N.â
For a second, you thought you were hallucinating. There was no wayâno wayâyou heard your name. Maybe you were just overtired, running on empty. Maybe it was your mind playing cruel tricks on you.Â
You shrugged, shoving your belongings into your overnight bag, preoccupied with gathering the blankets youâd let slip to the floor in your sleep.Â
A strange sensation washed over Mingi as his eyes fluttered open. His body felt heavier and his senses, once heightened, dulled. In the distance, he heard the faint chime of an alarm, followed by the soft shuffling of your footsteps. The sound was muted, like a memory being replayed from another life, but it was real.Â
"Be good, okay?" Wooyoung's voice was light, but there was a tightness to it, as if he was holding something back. His hands moved with gentle care, adjusting the small bandana around Mingiâs neck.Â
"I donât want to see you for another 70 years!"
Beside him, Hongjoong let out a soft chuckle, crouching down to run his fingers behind his ears. "Take care of Y/N," he murmured.Â
"But most importantly, take care of yourself, okay? Give yourself some grace.â
âI will,â Mingi replied, determination settling into his voice. He wanted to hold onto this moment, to express his gratitude, but time was already pulling him away as the gate for the human world was beginning to close.Â
The path before him stretched endlessly, lined with delicate white flowers that glowed under the light of the afterlife. With each step, he could feel the ground beneath his paws become less solid, as though he were walking on the edge of a dream. His body tingled, his heartbeat echoing in a different rhythm now, one that matched the pull of reality waiting for him beyond this place.
As the world around him dimmed, as his senses faded into something familiar, one thing remained unchangedâ
You.
Your presence.
And the moment he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was you.Â
Not the flowers piled up in the corner of the suite. Not the wires draped across his chest or the monitors keeping him alive. Not the light of morning spilling through the window, chasing away the shadows of the night before.
Just you.
âY/N.â
Still, you didnât hear him.
Mingi watched as you flitted around the room, smoothing down your wrinkled clothes, sighing at the thought of stepping outside this room and facing reality again as you grabbed your bag.Â
âY/N.â
The sound of your name was sharper and more insistent and you knew for sure you werenât imagining it.Â
You froze.
Your breath caught as something inside you, some instinct, screamed at you to turn around. Slowly, hesitantly, your head snapped toward the hospital bed.
Mingi was watching you.
His eyes were tired and heavy with exhaustion, but they were focused. Determined. His brows drew together, as if mustering every ounce of strength he had left just to make you look at him.
Your bag slid from your shoulder and hit the ground as your legs struggled to keep up. A sharp gasp tore from your lips as your chest constricted with a surge of emotions you thought you had long buried.
Relief, disbelief, and something unnamed swelled within you as you staggered forward with tears in your eyes.
Mingiâs fingers twitched again. A little stronger this time, shaking as they lifted just an inch from the bed. For a moment, they faltered, wavering midair. Then, slowly, they stretched toward you.
Reaching.
Wanting.
Your fingers trembled as you reached out, letting your hand hover over his for a moment before finally brushing against his cold skin. His hand stilled beneath yours and his fingers curled weakly as you closed yours around them.
Mingiâs eyes softened, and for a second, you thought he might try to speak, his lips parting slightly, but no sound came. His fingers squeezed yours weakly in response, and despite his weakened state, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes held yours and were filled with something that made your heart ache in the best way.
It wasnât much. But it was enough.
Because this time, Mingi had reached for you first.
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@sanniesbum @tyudearyous @kang-ulzzang @scary-thingz @painted-hills
@kyomiingi @tournesol155 @bee-gremlin @sutskyu @fleuresjay
@http-gyu @ishz @park-simphwa @moonsanshine @drinkingrumandcocacola
@innocygnet @jaeyunlvrs @shanabtsarmy @soso59love-blog @plum-stxr
@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha
the moment between hongjoong and reader about readerâs brother was really sweet, but I canât help but be nervous for whatever seonghwa and dann (mainly seonghwa) have planned cause I know itâs going to involve mike and other secrets we may not know about reader yet.
Iâm excited for the next part and keep up the great work! <3
Popular, Boy
â04: The first surrender.
Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!reader
Genre: +18, slow burn, angst, smut, drama, dark academic, love triangle.
wc: 8,5k
Summary: Alliances and secrets simmer beneath the surface as relationships are tested. Whispers of a returning precense cast shadow over your carefully controlled world.
Amid growing tension, nothing is as it seems, and trust becomes a dangerous gamble.
Warnings: Cursing, emotional manipulation, power dynamics, fluff, SMUT (MDN!!) Virgin! Hongjoong, oral (f receiving) fingering, hair pulling, cum eating, use of pet names (good boy, baby, babe, pretty) suggestive.
Series masterlist
â03 â05: The first fracture.
YNâĄ: I hope you enjoy your return to the losersâ club, ungrateful pet.
Those words feel like a slap in the face, but there's a part of him that can't deny the sting of guilt. Hongjoong had stood up to you, and now, he was being pushed away.
He feels conflicted, like he's torn between two sides of himself.
On one hand, you have everything heâs always wanted, popularity, control, power. On the other hand, he canât help but feel a flicker of empathy for Dann, even if itâs not enough to overpower his desire to keep his place in your world.
The past three days have been agonizing for Hongjoong. Your cold text still lingered in his mind, your words cutting deeper than he expected.
He wasnât sure what stung more: being labeled an 'ungrateful pet' or the realization that you had the power to decide his social fate.
In the hallways, the change was immediate and brutal. Your circle avoided him entirely, with Mindy, Wooyoung and the others offering smug smirks or outright ignoring his greetings.
The glances from the rest of the school stung even more, whispers of, 'Guess YN dumped her charity case,' followed him everywhere.
Hongjoong tried to go back to his old routine, hanging out with Yunho, Yeosang, Jongho and Dann in the library, but it wasnât the same. The nerdy jokes and shared interests felt hollow, overshadowed by his embarrassment.
He couldnât stop feeling like heâd failed⊠failed you, failed himself, and maybe even failed Dann.
âJoong, are you okay?â Dannâs voice pulls him from his thoughts during lunch.
Her gaze is soft but cautious. He knows she is trying to reconnect with him, but guilt twists in his stomach.
âYeah, Iâm fine,â He mumbles, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth to avoid saying more.
But Dann isnât convinced. She has noticed how his shoulders slump when your table erupts into laughter or how his eyes flicker toward you every time you walk by, as if waiting for something.
Was he regretting standing up for her? She wondered, unsure whether to feel gratitude or guilt herself.
âź â
Brat woo: Party at my place tonight, babydoll!! Weâre gonna get lit!!
You smirk as you read Wooyoung's text. Typical of Woo, his personality is always bright and comfy.
You bit your lip, twirling a strand of your perfectly styled hair as an idea formed in your mind.
YN: Invite Hongjoong, too.
The three dots appear almost immediately, followed by Wooâs response.
Brat oo: Babydoll, why would I invite him?
Brat woo: Isnât he banned from your bad bitches club?
You laugh at his last message as you lean back against your plush chair, crossing one leg over the other. Your perfectly manicured nails taps the edge of your phone as you craft a reply.
YN: Yeah, but invite him.
YN: It would be fun, babe.
Brat woo: Fine. But you owe me a blowjob, doll.
You scoff rolling your eyes, and you prefer not to bother replying. You knew Wooyoung well enough to predict heâd follow through.
You lock your phone and you get up to head to your closet, it's time to look for something cute to wear tonight.
âź â
His first instinct was to assume it was a mistake. Jung Wooyoung wasnât his friend. The last party held at his house was amazing and he treated him like they were friends for years, but it was only because he was with you... but not anymore.
Hongjoong read the message again, searching for some hidden sarcasm or trap.
J Wooyoung: Party at my place tonight, you must come.
Why would Wooyoung invite him?
Was this a chance to prove himself again? To get back into your orbit? The thought makes his chest tighten with both excitement and dread.
His phone buzzes with another text, this time from Dann.
Dann: Hey, wanna hang out tonight? We could watch that weird series youâve been talking about.â
He hesitates, guilt creeping in. Spending time with Dann sounded comfortable, easy, even, but the allure of Jungâs party looms large in his mind. And then, an idea struck him.
He quickly types a reply.
Joong: Actually, wanna come with me to a party tonight?
Dann: What? A party? With whom?
Joong: Jung Wooyoung invited me.
Joong: Itâs at his place. You should come.
His reply is almost casually, as if it werenât a big deal. There is a pause before Dannâs next message comes through.
Dann: Joong, that sounds⊠weird. Why would Wooyoung invite you? And why are YOU inviting me?
Dann: I remind you that the last time I went to a party, everything went wrong!
Hongjoong frowns, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard. He didn't think that far ahead, but now that Dann brought it up, the invite does seem odd. Still, he can't let her skepticism damp his resolve.
Joong: Does it matter? Itâs a party, Dann. It could be fun. We havenât done anything like this in forever.â
Dann: I donât knowâŠ
Joong: Come on!! Itâll be fine.
Joong: Youâll be with me the whole time.
Joong: If it sucks, we can leave.
Another pause, longer this time. Finally, her reply comes through.
Dann: Okay⊠Iâll go.
Dann: But if this turns into some kind of disaster, you owe me, Joong.
He let out a breath he hadnât realized he was holding. He tosses his phone into the bed and starts rifling through his closet, searching for something that looks remotely party-appropriate.
This is it, he thought, half to reassure himself. This is my chance to prove Iâm not just a nobody anymore.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
The party is already in full swing when you step through the door, your entrance commanding attention as always.
Wooyoung is the first to greet you, slinging an arm over your shoulder in a casual, brotherly way.
âAbout time, babydoll.â He teases, steering you further into the house âYouâve got people asking for you already.â
You smirk, brushing a perfectly styled strand of hair from your face.
âGood. Let them wait. it builds anticipation.â
Your eyes scan the room, taking in the crowd of familiar faces. The thrum of music, the faint haze of smoke, and the sharp scent of expensive cologne feel like home. But tonight, itâs not the crowd youâre interested in.
âDid you do it?â
He glances at your sideways, catching the subtle edge in your voice âYeah, I invited him. He is coming, right?â Woo asks casually, though thereâs a glint of mischief in his tone.
You nod, lips curving into a sly smile âOf course he will. Thanks for the invite.â
âAnything for you, Queen Bee.â Woo chuckles, patting your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.
You barely take two steps before Seonghwa appears in your path, leaning casually against the doorframe of the kitchen as if heâs been waiting.
âYou really showed up.â He says, his tone teetering between disbelief and sarcasm.
âObviously, miss out on this? Never.â
His sharp eyes rake over you, the casual air he projects cracking just slightly.
âSo, you brought him here?â
You lift your chin, feigning innocence âWho?â
âYou know who,â Hwa says, his voice dropping âThe nerd.â
âOh, him. Heâs just part of the fun, but he is not coming with me today.â
âFun,â Hwa repeats bitterly, stepping closer âThatâs what youâre calling it?â
You don't back down âYouâre awfully concerned for someone whoâs supposed to be done with me.â
The jab hits, and Hwaâs jaw tightens âWeâve been through a lot, Clarke. I know how you operate, and this is recklessâeven for you.â
âReckless?â You scoff, taking a deliberate step toward him âSpare me the lecture, Seonghwa. If youâre so worried, maybe you should focus on your own vices. Or do you need me to remind you how much recklessness youâve been indulging in lately?â
His eyes narrow, his jaw clenched âYou always twist things around, donât you?â
You tilt your head, a flicker of amusement dancing in your gaze âOnly when necessary.â
The tension between them hums like a live wire, but before either can escalate further, you sigh and soften your tone.
âLook, Hwa, I get it. Youâre mad because Iâve been spending time with Hongjoong. But you and I both know thisâwhatever this isâdoesnât have to be like this.â
Seonghwaâs perfect brows knit together, his posture relaxing just slightly âAnd whatâs âthis,â YN? Because it feels like weâre always walking the same damn line.â
âFriends,â You say firmly, though your voice carries a hint of warmth âWeâve been friends forever, havenât we? Almost more than friends, at times. Iâm not throwing that away just because weâve hit a rough patch.â
He studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he exhales and runs a hand through his hair.
âYeah, well, youâve always been good at getting under my skin. Guess I should be used to it by now.â
You smile, a real one this time âYou should. And for what itâs worth, I didnât mean for things to get so tense between us. Truce?â
Hwa hesitates but eventually extends a hand, his lips quivering into a faint smirk-
âTruce. But donât think Iâm letting you off the hook completely.â
âWouldnât dream of it,â You say, shaking his hand briefly before pulling him into a quick hug.
As they pull apart, Wooyoung reappears, his grin as wide as ever âSee? Told you itâs a party, not a courtroom.â
Both of you laugh, the tension finally dissipating. After all, you've been friends since you were kids, fighting over who got the best gifts or who got the most toys during Christmas.
Yes, maybe fights always were and will always be frequent, but the bond you created will always be there, whether as friends or as lovers. And no one can deny it.
âź â
The laughter still bubbles around you and friends as you relax on the plush couch in the middle of the buzzing party. The low hum of music blends with the chatter of your friends, creating the perfect backdrop for your carefree moment.
You perched elegantly with your cocktail in hand, tossing your hair back with a playful smirk.
âRemember when you told everyone I cried about losing that silly bet when we went to Meeru Island in the Maldives?â Mingi says, aiming a mock glare at Wooyoung.
He chuckles, shrugging. âYou did cry, Mingi. Like, full-on wailing. I saved you from complete humiliation by telling everyone you were faking it.â
âYouâre insufferable, Woo.â You lean forward to swat at him, but your grin betrays your amusement.
San joins you, plopping down on the armrest beside Seonghwa, his beer in hand.
âGod, you two never change. Should we get you a reality show or something?â
Mingi rolls his eyes but laughs along, the tension from you and Hwa's little fight seemingly evaporating. Itâs like old times again, your rhythm unshaken.
Then Wooâs gaze shifts toward the entrance, and his playful expression stiffens slightly.
âUh⊠you told me to invite him, but I didnât think heâd actually show up.â
You follow Wooyoungâs line of sight, your smile freezing as you spot Hongjoong stepping into the house. His attempts at looking casualâdown to his carefully chosen shirt and forced grinâbetray the nerves heâs clearly trying to hide.
But itâs not just him. Dann is with him, hovering awkwardly at his side.
Seonghwa notices too, his smirk turning razor-sharp âWell, if it isnât the exile. You sure know how to pick your projects, Clarke.â
Your grip on the empty glass tightens ever so slightly before you recover, placing it calmly on the coffee table. You rise with an air of detachment, smoothing your short silk black dress.
âDonât start, Hwa.â
Hwa leans back, watching you with an amused glint âI donât need to. This show writes itself.â
Ignoring him, you stride toward the entrance, movements deliberate, your heels clicking against the polished floor.
Hongjoongâs face lights up with hope when he sees you approach, but you don't acknowledge it.
âEnjoying the party?â You ask coolly, your gaze sweeping over both Hongjoong and Dann.
âUh, yeah,â He says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly âThanks forââ
âWooyoung invited you,â You interrupt, your eyes flick to Dann, your lips curving into a smile thatâs anything but friendly âDidnât realize youâd be bringing⊠extras.â
Dann stiffens under your gaze âI just came because Joongââ
âI didnât ask,â You cut her off smoothly. your focus shifts back to Hongjoong âEnjoy the party, and stay out of my way.â
Before Hongjoong can respond, you turn on your heel, heading back to the couch where all your friends are waiting, barely containing their laughter.
âThat was subtle.â Mingi teases as you sit back down.
You pick up another drink and take a long sip, your face calm but your mind racing. You had ordered Jung to invite him, but seeing him here, with Dann of all people, scratches at your carefully curated control.
Seonghwa leans closer, his voice low âTrying to make him mad, huh? Gotta admit, itâs fun to watch.â
You don't reply, your gaze lingering on Kim as he and Dann hover near the edge of the room. The party continues to swirl around you, but the game youâre playing tonight is only just beginning.
âLet's go dance.â
And without waiting for an answer, you drag Seonghwa to the center of the dance floor.
âź â
The party pulses around Hongjoong, but all he can see is you. You were radiant, laughing as you danced with Seonghwa, your hand grazing his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Weren't you supposed to be on bad terms? He threatened you a few days ago and now you act as if none of that has happened.
Every glance, every touch, feels like a slap to Hongjoongâs face, and when your eyes meet his for a brief moment across the room, he knows it wasnât accidental.
Dann stands beside him, trying to engage him in conversation or distract him with sarcastic comments about the crowd, but he barely responds.
His guilt over snapping at her earlier only adds to the storm brewing inside him.
As the night goes on, you and Seonghwa grow bolder. You dance closer, bodies pressing together in a way that feels almost taunting. Your hand trails lazily over Hwaâs chest as you throw a sly glance over your shoulder, directly at Hongjoong.
He can't take it anymore.
âI need a minute.â He mutters to Dann before walking away.
He finds you in the corner of the room, laughing at something Seonghwa had said. Your head tilts back, the sparkle in your eyes brighter than ever. You look utterly in control, utterly untouchable.
âYN.â Hongjoong says, his voice tight.
You turn to him, your expression cool and unimpressed âHongjoong, enjoying the party?â
âIâŠâ He hesitates, glancing at the tallest, who stands smirking at him like he knows exactly how pathetic he feels.
âSpit it out.â You cross your arms waiting for his next words.
Hongjoong swallows hard, his pride crumbling under the weight of your icy stare.
âIâm sorry.â
âFor what?â You ask, feigning ignorance as you raise an eyebrow.
âFor⊠for defending Dann.â He admits, the words tasting bitter on his tongue âI shouldnât have done it. I wasnât thinking. Please, YN. I didnât mean to upset you.â
You tilt your head, a small smile playing on your lips âIs that so?â
âPlease, YN. Iâm sorry. Iâll do whatever you want to make it up to you.â
You raise an eyebrow. That phrase sounds kinda familiar. Your gaze sweeps over him with an air of detached amusement.
âAnything?â
âYes.â He said, desperation dripping from every syllable.
âProve it.â
He looks at you confused, unsure what you mean. But when you point at the floor with a slight nod, his heart sinks.
Here? Now?
The party is still bustling around them, and though the music is loud, he knows there are enough eyes on them to make this moment humiliating.
But the thought of losing your favor, of being cast back into obscurity, is unbearable.
Slowly, he sinks to his knees in front of you like the first time he did it. The weight of the action crushed the little pride he had left.
âIâm sorry,â His voice trembling as he looks up at you âPlease, YN. Forgive me.â
Your lips curve into a slow smile, and you reach down, brushing your fingers along his jaw.
âGood boy.â
Without another word, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. Ignoring the stares of the partygoersâand the way Seonghwaâs amuse chuckle follows themâYou lead him through the crowd and up the stairs.
Hongjoongâs pulse races as you push open the door to an empty room, shutting it firmly behind you.
âYN, Iââ He starts, but you silence him with a finger to his lips.
You step closer, a hand sliding up his chest before tangling in the collar of his shirt. Your lips hover just above his, teasing him, your breath warm against his skin.
âYou want me to forgive you, donât you?â You whisper against his lips.
âYesâŠâ He breathes, his voice shaking.
âThen show me how sorry you are.â You say as your lips finally crash into his.
The kiss is rough, demanding, leaving Hongjoong breathless as your hands roam over him.
You push him into the edge of the bed, your confidence unwavering as you climb into his lap.
âMake it up to me.â You murmur against his ear, your tone lace with both seduction and dominance.
The room remains shrouded in heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing and the soft rustling of fabric as your hands continue their work.
Hongjoong sits before you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes glazed with a mix of guilt, desire, and submission. Heâs completely under your control, each deliberate movement you make reinforcing your hold over him.
You trail your nails lightly down his chest, exposed now as his shirt hangs loose from his shoulders.
âSee, Joongie,â You purr, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his neck âWhen you beg like that, it reminds me how much you want to be here⊠how much you need me.â
He shivers under your touch, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words come out. His mind is a haze, lost in youâyour voice, your touch, the overwhelming weight of your presence.
He feels as if heâs drowning, yet he doesnât want to come up for air.
Your lips return to his, capturing him in a kiss so intense it steals his breath. His hands caressing from your waist to your bare legs as you tug him closer, your hands tangling in his hair, ensuring thereâs no escape.
Not that he wants one.
Your smirk deepens as you lean closer, your fingers curling under his chin to tilt his face up. Your dominance is unshakable, your presence commanding every ounce of his attention.
âOn your knees.â
You order, carrying a weight that leaves no room for protest as you get off his lap to sit next to him on the bed.
Hongjoongâs breath hitches. His mind scrambles for a response, but the intensity of your gaze renders him silent. Swallowing hard, he glances around the empty room, then back at you, his cheeks already red when he sees you spread your legs.
He thinks he knows what you want him to do, and that makes him more nervous.
âYN, I donât knowââ
âDo you trust me or not?â You interrupt, fingers trailing down to his collar, tugging him forward âYou said youâd do anything for me, didnât you?â
Caught in your words and unwavering stare, Hongjoong nods hesitantly.
âI do.â He whispered.
âThen show me.â
Slowly, he slides down to his knees, the fabric of his jeans scraping lightly against the floor. His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, unsure of where they should go, as he looks up at you, his wide eyes fill with a mixture of anticipation and nerves.
He's never done this before. He's seen it in porn videos but still doesn't know exactly what to do.
Your fingers slip into his hair, touch firm but not rough, and you guide him closer with a slow, deliberate motion.
âI always tell you this. Relax, Hongjoong, Iâll take care of you.â
Your other hand moves to the hem of your dress, slipping it up just enough to expose the soft fabric of your black panties.
Hongjoongâs gaze drops instinctively, his breath catching in his throat as his pulse races.
âFocus, Joongie.â You tease, tugging lightly on his hair to draw his attention back to your face âStart slow. I want to feel how much you want my forgiveness.â
With shaky hands, he rests his palms on your soft thighs, his touch hesitant and careful, the cold of his rings making you shiver.
You guide him lower, your smirk never wavering as his lips brush against your thighs.
The warmth of your skin, the faint scent of your perfume, the weight of your hand in his hairâall of it consumes him.
His inexperience is obvious, but you don't mind. You encourage him with soft sighs and subtle movements, your hips tilting forward slightly as he grows bolder, leaving little bites on your inner thighs as his fingers play with the edge of your panties, sliding them down slowly.
He starts taking his time dishing out kisses and biting on both thighs, making you impatient.
You let out a whimper pulling his hair slightly âHongjoong⊠hurry up and eat me out.â
For the first time in his life, Hongjoong feels confident enough to smile mockingly against your delicate skin.
You, begging him to touch you? He never imagined it.
Still holding his smile, he slides your panties all the way down to your ankles, and removes them eagerly, leaving on your pretty high heels.
When he returns to his starting position between your thighs, he can't avoid looking to your bare core, all glossy with slick. He bites his lip at the sight.
Did he provoke that?
âJoong...â You reproach again with a whine.
You really need him to do something on his own or you'll force him to sink into your folds right now. You've never felt so desperate before, so eager for someone to touch you.
Hongjoong smiles again, your whiney voice turning him on.
The dry humping in your car, the blowjob in the empty classroom, and all the little make outs can not compare to this. Your pussy inches from his face, your hand tugging his hair and your desperate form waiting for him to touch you.
Fuck, he canât believe this is happening.
With the highest confidence ever, even though he keeps in mind that he does not know what he is doing, he leans towards your pussy, giving a long lick that makes both of you moan in pleasure.
His warm tongue explores every millimeter of your womanhood, you whine as Hongjoong swipe his tongue up and down your wet slit, taking all your slick on his mouth.
âShit, you taste so good, baby.â He says without realizing his words, his mind already cloudy.
You open your mouth in surprise at his daring words, you swear you feel more arousal coming out of your cunt.
âFuck, HongjoongâŠâ You tighten your grip on his hair, forcing him to sink his head further and he lets you do it gladly, smiling against you âAh⊠f-fuck me with your tongue, babe.â
And he does, he leaves your swollen clit to play with his tongue rubbing around your entrance, making you whine desperately.
He snorts with fun when you pull his hair harder, he is loving the way youâre acting, all whiny and desperate for him.
Without making you wait any longer, he slowly introduces his long tongue in your core.
He moans when he hears you do it and starts moving his tongue in and out, your walls clenching on it, his nose rubbing your clit, and his hands squeezing your thighs, bringing you closer to his mouth.
You arch your back, squirming and moaning under his exquisite touch. You never imagined that a virgin nerd like him could eat pussy so well.
Fuck, you never imagined he'd ever do this to you.
âThatâs it,â You whisper, voice breathy but firm âJust⊠just like that, Joong.â
Each sound you make spur him on, his nervousness slowly giving way to determination. He wants to please you, to prove that he is worthy of your forgiveness, even if he doesn't fully know what he is doing.
Your breathing quickening as you tilt your head back âGood boyâŠâ You murmur, your words sending a shiver down his spine.
The tension in the air is electric, every movement charged with a mix of control and surrender.
As your soft moans grow louder, Hongjoong can't help but feel a sense of pride, his confidence building with each passing moment.
âź â
The music blared through the speakers, the heavy bass vibrating the walls of Wooyoungâs mansion. Dann squeezed through groups of laughing, dancing people, her eyes scanning the crowd.
Sheâd been looking for Hongjoong for what felt like forever.
She finally spots Jung Wooyoung leaning casually against the bar, a drink in hand, and his signature easygoing grin in place.
Relief washes over her as she approaches him. She has never interacted with him, but she must find Joong.
âWooyoung,â She calls out, raising her voice above the music âHave you seen Hongjoong?â
Jung tilts his head, his expression is a grimace when he sees her. He's drunk but he doesn't remember inviting this loser to his party, much less knowing the grudge you have against her.
âLittle Hongjoong?â He echoes, taking a slow sip from his drink âYeah, he went upstairs. With babydoll.â At Dann's confused expression, he rolls his eyes âHe is upstairs with YN.â
Dannâs stomach drops at his words, her brows knitting together.
âWith YN?â She repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Wooyoung nods, smirking âYep. Upstairs. Why? You jealous or something?â His tone is teasing, but Dann doesnât have the energy to respond.
She turns on her heel and heads for the stairs, her heart pounding with every step. As she climbs, the noise of the party grows muffled, replaced by the quieter sounds of her own breathing and the creak of the steps.
Her mind races with thoughts she doesnât want to entertain.
Why would Hongjoong be with you? After everything, after all the tension between you?
She reaches the top of the stairs and pauses before she approaches the only door that is closed in the hallway. Something tells her that they are both in there.
Her hand hesitates on the doorknob, her heart hammering against her ribs. Slowly, she pushes it open, the hinges creaking softly.
Her breath catches in her throat at the sight before her.
There you areâYou and Hongjoong. Youâre laying on the big bed, moaning as your hands grip Hongjoongâs hair while he is between your legs.
Hongjoongâs shirt is half-unbuttoned, hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his hands grip your thighs tightly, pulling you closer.
Dannâs chest tightens as a sharp pang of betrayal and hurt courses through her. She stands frozen in the doorway, her fingers gripping the frame as she struggles to make sense of what sheâs seeing.
Neither you nor Hongjoong notice her. Youâre too consumed by each other. The intensity of Hongjoongâs movements speaks volumes, and he is clearly enjoying being there.
Your dominance is evident too, your control absolute, while Hongjoong seems lost, entirely under your spell.
Dann bites her lip, willing herself not to cry as she takes a shaky step back. The scene before her is a confirmation of every fear sheâs tried to suppress.
She retreats into the hallway, her heart aching with every step.
Downstairs, the party rages on, oblivious to the turmoil in Dannâs chest.
âź â
âJoong⊠Iâm close.â You announce closing your eyes shut and your whines get louder, the pleasure is too much to handle.
At your words, Hongjoong places his lips around your sensitive clit, sucking and pulling at it, and without you expecting it, he thrust two of his fingers into your narrow entrance, making you open your eyes and groan in surprise.
âFuck, fuck, fuckâŠâ
You quickly lift yourself up on your elbow to get a better view of him eating you like a starved man, It is certainly a spectacular sight.
His eyes closed in concentration, his warm mouth on your pussy and his fingers caressing the right places in your tight cunt.
ShitâŠ. Is he really a virgin? Because this is the best oral sex you have ever received.
âL-look at me⊠look at me, baby.â You order him and he immediately obeys, looking at you with those doe eyes, those pretty doe eyes make a wave of pleasure run through your body âF-fuck⊠gonna cum, baby. K-keep going.â You moan again tilting your head back, your eyes rolling back âJ-just like thatâŠâ
Damn, Hongjoong swears that this is the best view in the world, your mouth agape, eyes rolling back, you saying his name like a fucking mantra, this will undoubtedly be an image that will stay in his mind forever.
âCum for me, pretty⊠cum on my mouth.â
He doesn't know where that sentence came from but he can't help it, the adrenaline of the moment has his mind clouded.
With those words, you lose it. Your strength leaves your body when the well-known pressure on your abdomen appears, your grip on his hair becomes stronger and your legs begin to tremble from immense pleasure, your orgasm explodes like never before, leaving you breathless.
He moans in satisfaction, the taste of your slick driving him crazy, he moves his tongue everywhere collecting every drop of your orgasm, just like you did that day with him.
âAh⊠fuck, Joong!â You squirm under his movements, feeling the beginning of overstimulation âHongjoong⊠âs too much, baby.â
With a last lick and a wet kiss on your clit, Hongjoong lifts his head with a light smile.
Heâs pussy drunk right now and you smile, taking him by the cheeks and bringing him closer to you to kiss him.
His lips are swollen and his chin is soaked with your fluids, he looks messy, but you don't care. The kiss is full of something special this time, you don't know if it's gratitude, warmth or love. But you're definitely enjoying it too much.
âDid I do it right?â He murmurs against your lips and he smiles when you nod.
âThat was amazing.â You pull him back, your breathing uneven, your eyes meet his with a satisfied gleam âNot bad for your first time.â
Hongjoong remain above you, his chest heaving as he tries to process what had just happened.
You run a hand through his messy hair, glancing down at him with a mix of amusement and approval.
âLetâs go back to the party.â You add, leaning down to press a quick, teasing kiss to his lips before pulling back.
And Hongjoong smiles satisfied, satisfied to have your forgiveness
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
The hallway outside Wooyoungâs upstairs den is dimly lit, the faint bassline of the party vibrating through the walls.
Dann leans against the banister, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to shield her from the storm raging in her chest. Her mind replays the image of you with Hongjoong in that compromising position.
She blinks back the sting of tears, her breath hitching.
âPathetic,â She whispers to herself, trying to steal her resolve.
But the pain lingers, twisting deeper with each passing second.
âYou look like hell.â A voice cuts through her thoughts, sharp yet strangely casual.
Dann startles, her wide eyes locking onto Seonghwa as he saunters out of the shadows. His shirt is half-buttoned, his tie hanging loose around his neck.
He takes a slow drag from a cigarette, the embers glowing faintly in the dim light.
âWhat do you want?â Dannâs voice wavers, a mix of anger and embarrassment as she hastily wipes at her cheeks.
Seonghwa tilts his head, smirking âRelax, I just happened to notice you running out of there like the worldâs ending.â He exhales a thin trail of smoke, his eyes narrowing with mock âSaw something you didnât like?â
Dann glares at him but says nothing. The silence between them grows heavy, thick with unspoken truths.
âIâll take that as a yes,â Hwa finally says, leaning casually against the banister âLet me guess⊠Hongjoong and YN, all over each other like she hadn't kicked him out a week ago because of your little show in the cafeteria?â
His tone drips with derision, his smirk deepening when Dann flinches.
âWhy are you telling me this?â She snaps, her voice cracking slightly âYouâre supposed to be her friend, arenât you?â
Hwa chuckles, low and mirthless âFriendshipâs a funny thing, donât you think? Especially when it comes to someone like YN.â He flicks the cigarette away, watching the faint glow disappear into the darkness âYou think she really cares about anyone but herself?â
Dannâs gaze falters, the weight of his words settling over her.
âLook,â Hwa says, his voice softening just enough to sound sincere, âI know what itâs like to be on the receiving end of YNâs little games. Sheâs been pulling this crap since we were kids, using people, discarding them when theyâre no longer useful.â
Dann clenches her fists, her voice barely above a whisper.
âBut Hongjoong isnât like that.â
Hwa raises an eyebrow, his smirk returning âYou sure about that? He dropped you pretty fast for her, didnât he?â
Her breath catches, the truth of his words cutting deeper than she wants to admit.
âBut hereâs the thing,â Hwa continues, stepping closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially âYNâs not untouchable. Sheâs got secrets, vulnerabilities⊠things she wouldnât want getting out.â
Dann looks up at him, confusion and hesitation warring in her eyes.
âWhat are you saying?â
âIâm saying⊠if you really want to hit her where it hurts, I can help.â
The air between them crackles with tension. Dann hesitates, her instincts screaming at her to walk away.
But the memory of Hongjoong doing such a thing with you flashes through her mind again, the sting of betrayal fueling the embers of something darker.
âWhy?â She asks cautiously, her voice steadier now.
Seonghwaâs grin widens, his eyes glinting with calculated charm
âLetâs just say I have my reasons. And besidesâŠâ He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper âDonât you want to see her fall?â
Dann swallows hard, the weight of his proposition pressing down on her. Her mind races, torn between doubt and the growing need to fight back.
Finally, she nods, her voice quiet but firm.
âOkay. Iâm in.â
Hwa straightens, satisfaction flashing across his face âGood. Stick with me, and weâll make sure YN regrets every move sheâs made.â
As he walks away, Dann stands frozen, the faint echo of his footsteps fading into the music downstairs.
For the first time that night, she feels something other than painâsomething sharp and dangerous, simmering just beneath the surface.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
The soft glow of the afternoon sun filters through the expansive windows of your house, casting a warm, golden hue over the sprawling living room.
You and Hongjoong sit cross-legged on the expensive carpet, a mess of images, glue sticks, and markers spread out between you. The project youâre working on is for the literature classâa visual timeline of key events in European history.
For once, you aren't delegating the work entirely to Hongjoong. Instead, youâre snipping pieces of paper with surprising focus, handing them over to him to paste onto the board.
âHere,â You say, holding up a carefully cut-out image of the Berlin Wall âPaste this next to the 1989 marker. And make it straight this time.â
Hongjoong smirks, taking the picture âYes, pretty. Anything else youâd like me to do, Your Majesty?â
You roll your eyes but hide a smile âJust donât mess it up. My gradeâs on the line, too.â
You share a laugh, the recent nickname he loves to call you since that night at Wooyoungâs party makes you feel butterflies in your stomach.
Since that day, Hongjoong feels the ease between both of youâsomething he never thought possible just a few weeks ago. He doesnât feel nervous or out of place anymore.
Being with you feels natural now, like he belongs here.
You lean back, brushing your hair over your shoulder, and look at him with a curious expression.
âYouâre actually not bad at this. Who knew?â
He grins âWow, high praise coming from you. Should I write this down?â
You smirk, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at him âDonât push your luck, Kim.â
The banter continues, light and comfortable, until the sound of heels clicking on the marble floor interrupts them.
Your mother appears in the doorway, dressed immaculately as always, her gaze sweeping over the room.
âOh! Hi, Hongjoong. Didn't know you were here.â Your mother greets him with a lovely smile
âGood afternoon, Mrs. Clarke.â He bows his head politely.
âHow are you doing with that guys?â She says while looking curiously at your project.
âGreat, weâre having fun.â Hongjoong answers with a sweet smile and your mother giggles gracefully.
From the first time your mother met him, she was delighted with the boy, saying how handsome and polite he was.
âIncredible. Sweetie?â Now she addresses you and you hum in response âI wanted to let you know your brother will be returning from Germany next week. He finished his program early.â
You freeze, your hands stilling on the paper you're cutting. For a moment, a flicker of somethingâfear?âcrosses your face.
âOhâŠâ You say, voice strained despite her attempt at nonchalance âThatâs⊠great.â
Your mother narrows her eyes slightly, as if detecting the unease.
âYes. Heâs looking forward to seeing you. I hope youâll make him proud of how youâve been handling things here.â
âIâm sure heâll be thrilled.â You reply with a forced smile.
âWell, I'll let you continue with your work.â Your mother gives a curt nod before leaving the room.
Hongjoong glances at you, sensing the sudden shift in your mood.
âMike?â
You exhale sharply, tossing the scissors aside âYeah. My amazing brother. If he finds out Iâve been⊠well, less than perfect, he wonât hesitate to tell my parents.â
Hongjoong frowns âHe sounds⊠intense.â
âYou donât know half of it.â You mutter, running a hand through your hair. For a moment, your confident exterior falters, revealing a hint of vulnerability.
Hongjoong reaches out, hesitating before placing a hand on yours.
âHey, itâs okay. Whatever happens, youâll handle it. Youâre YN, remember? You always do.â
You look at him, your expression softening âYouâre sweet, you know that?â
He shrugs, a blush creeping up his neck âJust for you, pretty.â
You lean in, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss.
âLetâs finish this project before my mother comes back and give you compliments just for existingâ
Hongjooong chuckles, but he canât shake the lingering thought of your brother. Whoever this guy is, he clearly has a hold over youâand thatâs saying something.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Dann quietly tidies up remnants of her lunch, her movements mechanical. She hasnât spoken to Hongjoong in days. He doesnât even look at her anymore.
But she notices the change in youâthe way you smile more, laugh more, when Hongjoong is around you.
And Dann canât help but feel the ache in her chest grow sharper with each passing moment.
How much she wishes she was in your place, to be so close to Hongjoong.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
The house buzzes with quiet anticipation, the staff moving about with heightened energy. Your mother, dressed in her usual pristine elegance, stands in the center of the room, her voice carrying an air of authority but still kind.
âI want everything perfect for my sonâs return,â She announces, her tone leaving no room for error âThe table arrangements, the food, the decorâeverything must reflect our familyâs standards. Heâll be here in three days, and this dinner must welcome him properly. The whole family will come, so the banquet should be for twenty-five people.â
Dann crouches in the corner of the hallway, hidden behind a large vase. She had come to deliver your paperwork but froze when she overheard the conversation.
Her heart pounds as she listens, her mind racing. YNâs brother⊠She wouldn't know that the Clarkes have two children if it weren't for some pictures hanging on the walls, in all this time she never heard anyone mention it, not even your parents.
She knows almost nothing about him, but the little mention that Seonghwa made one day left her intrigued.
Why does no one in the family talk about that guy?
The moment your mother leaves the room, Dann slips out and makes her way to the backyard, her hands clutching the papers tightly.
She unlocks her phone in hand and calls Seonghwa.
Heâs been a constant presence in her life these past two weeksânot as a friend, but as a partner in their silent pact.
In these weeks, Hwa has treated Dann with a mix of indifference and amusement. He never misses an opportunity to remind her of their deal, yet heâs never outright cruel.
For him, sheâs a toolâa means to an end. But for Dann, every interaction feels like walking a tightrope, unsure when his charm might twist into something sharper.
âSeonghwa,â she calls softly when he picks up.
âHi, whatâs the news?â
Dann hesitates before speaking âYNâs brother⊠Heâs coming back in three days. Her mom is planning this big welcome dinner for him.â
âThe golden boy, huh? Interesting.â
âInteresting?â Dann blurts out before she can stop herself.
âOf course, it is. Daddyâs favorite, perfect older brother who can do no wrong? Heâs probably the only one who can knock YN off her pedestal.â
Dann frowns, clutching her hands nervously âAre you sure about this?â
âDon't be scared, Seo, Iâll take care of everything.â
Dann isnât comforted by his nonchalance, but she knows better than to push. Seonghwa isnât someone who worries; he plans, manipulates, and waits for the perfect moment to strike.
âOkay⊠bye.
Dann bites her lip, hanging up before walking back inside the house. But as she retreats, she canât shake the feeling that sheâs stepping deeper into a game she barely understands.
âź â
You lounge on the oversized velvet sofa in the living room, your legs tuck beneath you as you flip through the book Hongjoong recommended to you.
Youâre not reading itâyour eyes skim over the pages without absorbing a single word.
Around you, the house is abuzz with activity. Maids dust every surface, fluffing pillows to perfection.
A team of florists meticulously arranges extravagant bouquets in the foyer, filling the air with the overpowering scent of lilies and roses.
Your mother strides into the room, clipboard in hand, rattling off instructions.
âThe table settings must be silver, not gold. And make sure the wine glasses are spotlessâhe deserves only the best.â Her voice drips with excitement.
You glance at the dining room, now transformed into a stage for the grand dinner. Crystal chandeliers gleam above the polished mahogany table, which is already set with fine china and embroidered napkins.
Everything is immaculate, screaming perfectionâjust like your brother.
Your father joins his wife, a rare smile softening his otherwise stern face âFinally, our son is coming back. Three years is far too long.â He places a hand on the woman's shoulder, his tone filled with pride âHeâs the best of us.â
Your stomach twists. Their words sting in a way you donât expect. Itâs not that you hate Mikeânot really. But the shadow he casts is suffocating, the impossibly high bar he sets that youâll never reach.
The perfect son, the golden child whoâs never made a misstepâor so everyone thinks.
Because you know better. You know the cracks hidden behind his flawless exterior. The things heâs done, the lines heâs crossed.
The way heâs used you to cover his tracks, forcing you to dirty your hands so his reputation could remain unscathed. The memory of his voice, cold and commanding, still echoes in your mind.
'Youâll do it, YN. You owe me.' And you always did because saying no was never an option.
Your parents know about his anger issues. Theyâve seen his temper, the way his anger can spiral into violence.
Theyâve heard the arguments, felt the weight of his wrath. But they ignore it, choosing instead to uphold the illusion of their perfect son.
You know they love you and love to spoil you, but you also know their disappointment runs deep.
To them, youâre the little child who always gets her way, who causes trouble without considering the consequences.
A loud clatter from the kitchen breaks her thoughts, and your mother whirls around.
âWhat was that? We canât afford any mistakes!â
You watch your mother hurry away, and your heart sinks further. Mistakes.
Thatâs all you feel you are lately and a series of disappointments waiting to be uncovered. Your eyes drift to the grand staircase, and you imagine Mike descending it, his presence commanding the room, and your parents beaming with pride.
Your phone buzzes, pulling you from bad thoughts. Itâs a text from Hongjoong, something sweet and simple about your project.
Joongie: Weâre getting a 10, pretty.
Joongie: Promise!!
For a moment, you smile, but it quickly fades. Hongjoong is your escape, your distraction, but even he canât erase the weight of your familyâs expectations.
Sighing, you set the book down and lean back, closing your eyes. The house feels suffocating, filled with reminders of who you are supposed to be.
But this time, you wonât be caught off guard. If your brotherâs return is inevitable, youâll face him on your termsâeven if it means confronting the secrets they both carry.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
The school backyard is too quiet to be the last class, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees as students chatter in the distance.
You and Hongjoong sit on a bench, the space between them comfortable but heavy with unspoken thoughts.
You swing your legs lazily, your eyes looking at the horizon. Your usually confident demeanor seems a little more distant today, like your mind is elsewhere.
Hongjoong notices it instantly, and though heâs not the type to pry, he canât help but ask.
"Hey, what's going on? You seem⊠off today."
You glance over at him, lips curling into a small smile, but it doesnât quite reach your eyes.
âItâs nothing. Just stuff with my family.â
He raises an eyebrow, sensing that itâs more than just âstuff.â He leans a little closer, his voice softer now.
âYour brother, right?â
You freeze at the mention of him, gaze flickering to the side, as though trying to avoid the thought altogether. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your jacket, and you sigh deeply.
"Yeah, heâs coming back today." You try to mask the vulnerability in your tone, but Hongjoong catches it anyway "After three years, my parents are so excited. You should see the house, Joong... everything has to be perfect."
Hongjoong watches you carefully, his expression thoughtful. He remembers when your mother told you about Mikeâs return.
You had been visibly upset, though you masked it quickly, eager to avoid the conversation. He knows that you have spent your whole life living in your brotherâs shadow, constantly compared to his perfection.
"I get it," He says softly, his voice steady "Youâve always felt like heâs the âgolden child,â right? The one your parents adore."
Your lips tighten, but you don't argue, just nod, glancing at him with a half-smile.
"Itâs exhausting. Heâs everything they ever wanted in a son. Business master. Perfect grades. Perfect manners. Perfect everything." You pause, a bitter edge creeping into your voice "It doesnât matter how many times I get a perfect score or do everything right. Itâs never enough."
Hongjoong nods, his hand resting on the back of the bench, his gaze still on you. He knows you hide a lot behind that confident exterior, but the cracks are starting to show now, and it makes him feel both protective and⊠uncertain.
"It sounds like a lot to deal with. But your parents love you. They just have high expectations, donât they?"
Your gaze flickers briefly to him, but you don't meet his eyes. You bite your lip, as if debating whether to continue.
"They do, but sometimes it feels like itâs not enough." You shrug, trying to brush it off, but the weight of the words lingers in the air between them "Anyway, enough about that."
You shift in your seat, a new thought clearly forming.
âHongjoong,â You say, voice softer now, almost vulnerable "I know Iâve been, uh⊠caught up with my family stuff lately. But would you⊠would you ever invite me to your place one day? Just, you know, to get away from all of this?"
He blinks in surprise, but the warmth of your request is clear. Itâs not about the drama or the pressures you face at home. Itâs just you wanting a break, wanting something simple.
A break from being the âperfectâ daughter, the one always judged against the golden child.
"Of course, pretty." He replies without hesitation "Whenever you want. You can always come over."
You look at him, eyes softer now, a real smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
"Thanks, that means more than you know."
You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of your words settling between you. Hongjoongâs heart races, unsure of what this means for their relationship but knowing one thing:
Being around you, seeing you like thisâvulnerable, honestâit pulls him in deeper.
Finally, you break the silence again âWell, if I have to put up with my perfect brother for a while, at least Iâll have something to look forward to, right?â
He chuckles, the sound filling the quiet space between you âExactly. And you know, I think the âperfectâ brother might need a little dose of reality. No one can be perfect all the time.â
You grin at that, your usual self-assuredness flickering back to life.
"Maybe.â
"Well, youâve got me for anything. Always."
As you sit there, the rest of the world seems to fade away. Just for a moment, everything is okay.
And for now, thatâs enough.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
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wow, a chapter where readerâs life isnât going horrible. This is going great, but we still gotta kill mike that man is public enemy #1 I donât care how he can blow up in space or die to a snail touching and iâll be happy.
amazing chapter, excited to see what comes next <3
Popular, Boy
â12: The first warning.
Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader
Genre: +18, smut, angst, slow burn, drama, dark academic, love triangle.
wc: 10k
Summary: Stepping back to your world and reclaiming your place with confidence and Hongjoong by your side, feeling that everything is better.
But some loyalties are bound by fear rather than choice.
Warnings: Cursing, manipulation, power dynamics, fluff.
Series masterlist Join the Taglist
â11 â13: The first bliss. Coming soon
The sharp click of your heels echoes through the quiet hallway as you make your way toward your fatherâs office. The Clarke mansion is always pristine, always silent in places where it shouldnât be.
Itâs suffocating.
You pause outside the heavy wooden door, exhaling before knocking twice.
âCome in.â
You push the door open, stepping inside. Your father is at his desk, flipping through documents, while your mother sits on one of the velvet chairs across from him, sipping tea as if she has no real business here.
Both of them glance up at you, but itâs your mother who smiles first.
âWell, this is a surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure, darling?â
Your father doesnât say anything. He just watches, waiting. You clear your throat, keeping your tone even.
âI need a favor.â
Your motherâs eyes gleam with interest âA favor? Thatâs rare.â She sets her teacup down gently. âWhat is it?â
You donât hesitate âItâs about Hongjoong.â
At that, your father raises a brow, finally giving you his full attention. Your mother, on the other hand, practically lights up.
âOh, Hongjoong! I was beginning to think you werenât talking to him anymore afterââ She pauses, tilting her head, eyes sharp. âAfter that day.â
You knew this was coming. Of course sheâd ask.Your fingers tighten slightly at your sides, but your voice remains composed.
âIt was a misunderstanding. Everythingâs fine between us now.â
Your mother hums in approval, looking far too pleased. âI knew you wouldnât throw away something special over a little argument.â
Your father clears his throat, his tone clipped âIf this is about that boy, get to the point.â
You nod âItâs not about him, exactly. Itâs about his father.â
Both your parents exchange a glance.
You continue, âHis father lost his job recently, and their family is struggling. I wanted to know if you could offer him something here. A driver, securityâanything.â
Your mother leans back slightly, considering. âHis father lost his job?â A small frown tugs at her lips, but it isnât one of disapprovalâitâs concern. âThatâs terrible.â
Your father leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. âWhat does he do?â
âHe was a chauffeur,â You answer. âFor a private company, but they let him go.â
Your father exhales, glancing down at the papers on his desk as if debating whether this conversation is worth his time.
âA driver, huh?â
Your mother places a hand on his arm, smiling âWell, we do need another personal driver, donât we?â
Your father gives her a pointed look, but you know him. He isnât against the ideaâheâs just pretending to be.
âIt wouldnât be a bad thing,â The woman continues, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle on her dress. âThe boy is respectful, intelligent. If heâs anything like his son, Iâm sure his father would be a good addition.â
Your father exhales through his nose before looking at you âYou really want this?â
âYes.â
A long pause. Thenâ
âFine.â
Your mother claps her hands together lightly âWonderful.â She turns back to you, a knowing smile on her lips. âTell Hongjoong his father can start next week.â
Relief washes over you, but you keep your expression composed. You lean against the edge of your fatherâs desk, tilting your head just slightly, letting your voice soften into that sweet, spoiled tone you know they canât resist.
âThank you, Daddy,â You say, drawing out the last word just enough to sound affectionate, not excessive.
Your father exhales, shaking his head as if heâs already regretting agreeing to this. But you donât miss the way the tension in his shoulders loosens. He likes it when you act like his perfect little girlâlike you adore him.
Your mother watches the interaction with amusement, sipping her tea. âYou shouldâve just started with that, sweetheart. You know your father canât say no to you when you ask nicely.â
Your father gives her a flat look âThatâs not true.â
âOh, please.â She waves a delicate hand in the air. âYouâve been wrapped around her little finger since she could talk.â
You flash a smug little smile, but before you can say anything, your motherâs expression brightens.
âOh! That reminds me.â She sets her teacup down and turns to you expectantly. âYou should invite Hongjoong over for dinner one day.â
Your father grunts âWhat?â
Your mother raises an eyebrow âWhat, what? I like him. Heâs polite, intelligent, and much better company than some of your other friends.â She pauses, pressing a manicured finger to her lips in thought. âAnd heâs quite handsome, isnât he?â
You scoff, rolling your eyes âOkay, calm down.â
She chuckles âIâm just saying, I want to see him again. And this time, without all the party noise.â
Your father mutters under his breath, flipping a page in his documents âI still donât like the idea of my daughter wasting time with some scholarship kid.â
You pout dramatically, leaning toward him âBut, Daddy,â You drawl, âI like him.â
He sighs, rubbing his temple âI swear, you only do this to torture me.â
You smile sweetly âThatâs not true! I only do it when I want something.â
Your mother laughs, shaking her head âSo? Will you invite him?â
You shrug, pushing off the desk âIâll think about it.â
But you both know youâll do it.
As you turn to leave, your mother calls after you, âAnd tell him I said hello!â
You wave a hand without looking back, already dreading Hongjoongâs reaction when you tell him.
Because if he agrees to dinner, you just know your mother is going to love embarrassing you.
âź â
Hongjoong opens the door, eyebrows raising slightly when he sees you standing on his porch, dressed effortlessly chic like you donât belong in this neighborhood.
Itâs not the first time youâve been here, but itâs rare enough that the sight of you standing outside his house still feels surreal.
"Pretty?" He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a hint of amusement playing at his lips. "Did I forget we had a date or something?"
You roll your eyes, stepping past him like you own the place "Please, nerd. If we had a date, youâd be waiting for me."
He huffs a laugh, closing the door behind you "So, whatâs up?"
You spin on your heel, hands clasped in front of you like youâre about to drop the biggest news of the century.
"Well, I just came back from a very interesting conversation with my parents." He tenses slightly at the mention of them, but he doesnât interrupt. "And guess what?" You tilt your head, smiling. "Your dad just got a job."
Hongjoong blinks "What?"
Before you can answer, his motherâs voice comes from the kitchen "Joong, whoâs at theâ" She pauses as she steps into the living room, eyes widening when she sees you. "Oh! YN, dear!"
You smile "Hi, Mrs. Kim."
His father enters the room next, looking surprised but polite "Itâs nice to see you again, YN."
"You too, Mr. Kim," You reply warmly. "Actually, I came to tell you something." You glance at Hongjoong, then back to his father. "My dad just hired you as a personal driver."
A beat of silence. Then the woman clasps her hands together, eyes shining. "Oh, thatâs wonderful news!" She turns to her husband, already fussing. "You see? Everything is working out. I told you things would get better."
The man, though visibly relieved, remains composed "This⊠this is really unexpected," He says carefully, looking at you. "Your father doesnât know me, so why would heâ"
"It was my idea," You cut in. "I told them about your situation, and they agreed."
Hongjoongâs parents exchange a glance, something unspoken passing between them. Gratitude. Maybe even a little disbelief.
Hongjoong stays quiet beside you, his eyes unreadable.
His mother sighs, then smiles at you warmly "YN, that was really kind of you."
You shrug, like itâs nothing, like you donât actually care as much as you do "Itâs the least I could do."
Mrs. Kim beams "Well, in that case, you must stay for dinner."
"Oh, Iâ"
"No buts," She says, already ushering you toward the dining table. "Itâs our way of saying thank you."
You glance at Hongjoong, who just smirks, as if to say you brought this on yourself.
Fine. Youâll stay.
âź â
Dinner is surprisingly⊠nice. Warm. Unlike the silent, performative meals at the Clarke mansion, this table is filled with actual conversation.
Hongjoongâs father asks about school, his mother tells stories from work, and Hongjoongâwell, he mostly watches you.
And under the table, his hand finds your thigh. You stiffen slightly at the unexpected touch, but when you glance at him, heâs focused on his plate like nothingâs happening.
His fingers, however, trace slow, lazy patterns against your skin, just under the hem of your skirt.
You shift slightly, your breath catching, but you donât move his hand. His thumb presses lightly, and your nails dig into your fork.
Mrs. Kim suddenly laughs at something her husband says, then turns to you with a knowing look.
"YN, dear," She starts, voice full of somethingâsomething playful, something amused. "How long have you and my son been together?"
You nearly choke on your drink, Hongjoong finally looks up, biting back a smile.
"Excuse me?" You ask, feigning innocence.
His father smirks, shaking his head "You two think we donât notice?" He nods toward his son. "Youâve been staring at her all night."
Hongjoong shrugs, far too casual "Can you blame me?"
You shoot him a look.
His mother giggles "And heâs been holding your hand under the table for the last ten minutes."
Oh.
You didnât even realize. Somewhere between his teasing and the conversation, his hand had slipped into yours, fingers lazily intertwined.
Again, Hongjoong just smirks.
You clear your throat, quickly pulling your hand away "Anyway," You say, trying to steer the conversation anywhere else.
But his mother just hums, giving you both a knowing smile "Ah, young love."
Hongjoong leans in slightly, voice low enough for only you to hear "We could make it official, you know."
You gasp, eyes widening as you slap his arm lightly. "Hongjoong!"
His parents laugh at the interaction, clearly entertained, while Hongjoong just grins, absolutely unbothered.
âOh, donât act so surprised, pretty,â He teases, rubbing his arm dramatically like you actually hurt him.
You roll your eyes, ignoring the warmth creeping up your neck. Idiot.
After dinner, Mrs. Kim insists on making tea, despite Hongjoongâs grumbles that âYN probably only drinks champagne, Mom.â You roll your eyes but accept the tea anyway, sitting at the kitchen counter as his parents clear the table.
Hongjoong stands beside you, arms crossed, leaning slightly against the counter. Heâs relaxed, comfortable in his home, but his eyes flicker toward you every few seconds.
You tap your nails against your mug âYour mom likes me.â
He snorts âUnderstatement. Sheâs already planning our wedding.â
You scoff, taking a sip of tea âIâd be a great addition to your family, letâs be honest.â
He tilts his head, considering âYou do have expensive taste. My mom would love the gifts youâd bring her.â
You nudge him with your elbow âOh, shut up.â
He grins, but before he can say something else, his mother calls from the living room. âJoong, come help your father with something!â
Hongjoong exhales through his nose, standing up straight âBe right back.â He pauses before heading off, leaning down just slightly so only you can hear. âDonât miss me too much, pretty.â
You roll your eyes, but he catches the way your lips twitch.
Once heâs gone, youâre left in the quiet of the kitchen, staring down at your tea. Itâs strange being here. The warmth, the easeânothing like the cold, calculated world you come from.
And you hate how much you like it.
A few minutes later, youâre checking your phone when you feel itâgentle fingers trailing down your back. You shiver, looking up just as Hongjoong settles behind you, his presence warm, solid.
âTheyâre in the living room,â He murmurs. âWe have a few minutes alone.â
You raise an eyebrow âAnd?â
âAndâŠâ He steps closer, his hand resting lightly against your hip. âI want to be with you without my mom watching like sheâs this close to planning our honeymoon.â
You smirk, but before you can retort, he dips down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.
Your breath catches. His lips ghost over your skin, slow, deliberate. His hands find your waist, fingers tightening ever so slightly.
Youâre still sitting on the stool, and heâs standing between your legs, close enough that you can feel his warmth against you.
âJoongââ
âShhh,â He murmurs, placing another kiss just beneath your jaw. âI just like being near you.â
Your heart stutters. For all the teasing, all the flirting, this moment is different. Itâs soft. Unrushed. His fingers brush over the fabric of your skirt, trailing lazily along your thigh like heâs memorizing the feel of you.
You donât stop him. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, giving him more access.
He hums in approval, lips brushing your pulse before finally pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, but thereâs something else in themâsomething real.
His thumb traces circles against your hip âYou should come over more.â
You exhale a quiet laugh âYour mom would love that.â
âShe would,â He agrees, smirking. âAnd maybe I would too.â
Your fingers find the collar of his sweater, tugging him closer until your lips are almost touching.
âYeah?â
âYeah.â
And then he kisses you.
Itâs slow, deliberate, nothing rushed or messy. Just the warmth of his lips, the way his fingers tighten against you, the quiet hum that vibrates against your mouth.
Heâs holding back, you can tell. And maybe you like that.
Maybe you like all of it.
But before things can go any further, the sound of someone clearing their throat shatters the moment.
You both freeze.
Slowly, you turn your headâonly to see Mrs. Kim standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.
Hongjoong immediately steps back, rubbing the back of his neck.
âUh...â
She sighs, shaking her head âAt least take her out on a proper date first, Kim Hongjoongl.â
You burst out laughing, while Hongjoong groans, burying his face in his hands.
âź â
After that awkward situation in the kitchen, you and Hongjoong make your way to his room, excusing yourselves with a vague, âWe have things to do.â His parents exchange a glance but donât argue. If anything, they look downright amused.
His room is cleaner than you expected. Bookshelves filled with everything from fantasy novels to thick textbooks line the walls, and his desk is cluttered but organized.
As he digs through his drawers for fresh clothes, you skim over his bookshelf, fingers brushing over the spines until one catches your eye.
You plop onto his bed, flipping through the pages, completely lost in the book.
Then, the bathroom door clicks open.
You glance upâand immediately freeze.
Hongjoong stands in the doorway, fresh from the shower, steam still curling around him. His damp hair clings slightly to his forehead, droplets of water trailing down the sharp planes of his chest.
And the only thing heâs wearing? A towel.
Low on his hips.
Your throat runs dry.
He doesnât notice at firstâheâs too busy running a hand through his hair, sighing like heâs still processing everything that happened tonight. But then he looks at you, noticing your wide eyes, the way your fingers have frozen over the page.
His lips curve âOh?â He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. âSomething wrong, pretty?â
You snap the book shut. Hard.
âWhy are you standing there like that?â You demand, clearing your throat, pretending that nothing about this is affecting you.
Hongjoong shrugs âItâs my room. Didnât know I needed to be fully dressed to exist in it.â
You glare at him âYouâre doing this on purpose.â
He tilts his head, looking far too pleased with himself âDoing what on purpose?â
Your jaw clenches. Fine. Two can play this game.
You set the book aside and stretch, tilting your head slightly, letting your gaze slowly trail down his torso.
Hongjoongâs smirk falters just a little. Then, as if completely unfazed, you lean back against his pillows, propping yourself up on your elbows.
âYou know,â You say, feigning nonchalance, âFor a nerd, youâre in surprisingly good shape.â
He blinks. Thenâhe laughs, shaking his head âOh, thatâs rich coming from you.â
You raise an eyebrow âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIt means,â He steps closer, eyes darkening slightly, âThat you are the biggest tease Iâve ever met.â
Heâs right in front of you now, way too close, the scent of his shampoo still fresh. You can see the water droplets clinging to his collarbone, sliding down his skin, disappearing beneath the towel.
Your stomach flutters âI donât know what youâre talking about,â You say, voice way too even.
Hongjoong hums, unconvinced. And then his fingers graze your knee. You jolt slightly, but before you can react, he slides his hand up, slow, teasing. Over your thigh, pushing your skirt up just barely, his fingertips ghosting over sensitive skin.
Your breath hitches.
He leans in, voice low, taunting âTell me, prettyâŠâ His lips hover near your ear. âIf I am doing this on purpose⊠is it working?â
Your pulse pounds.
God, you hate him. But you also donât.
And maybe thatâs the real problem.
Before you can make the very reckless decision to grab him by the towel and end his teasing yourself, Hongjoong grinsâthe cockiest grin youâve ever seenâand pulls away completely, stepping back toward his dresser like nothing just happened.
âI should get dressed,â He muses, voice far too casual. âWe have places to be, remember?â
You stare at him. Heâs so lucky you like him.
You exhale sharply, crossing your arms as he rummages through his drawer âYou are the most annoying person I know.â
He tosses a shirt over his head, grinning âAnd yet, here you are.â
You throw a pillow at him.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
Fifteen minutes later, you arrive at the café, the glow from the streetlights casting long shadows through the clear glass windows. Your steps slow as your eyes land on her.
Jina.
Sheâs behind the counter, casually wiping a glass, completely unaware of whatâs coming.
Your lips press into a thin line, irritation bubbling to the surface.
Hongjoong notices immediately, chuckling under his breath as he reaches out, fingers tilting your chin so your eyes meet his instead.
"Stop frowning, pretty. Youâll get wrinkles."
You scoff âJoong, that slut tried to mess with me and you. Donât expect me to act all nice and sweet around her.â
His lips twitch with amusement, but instead of scolding you, he leans down and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips.
"Itâs okay, pretty. But please donât punch her, or Iâll never bring you to a cafĂ© again."
You roll your eyes âWhatever.â
Hongjoong sighs but laces his fingers through yours, leading you toward the entrance. The bell above the door jingles softly as you step inside, the warm scent of coffee and vanilla lingering in the air.
The second Jina hears the sound, she turns, already slipping into her customer-service smile.
"Welcome toâ"
Her voice dies in her throat the moment she sees you.
You, standing next to him.
You, holding his hand like nothing had happened between you two.
A flicker of somethingâshock, uneaseâcrosses her face before she quickly schools her expression.
Still, you catch it.
The hesitation.
The way she stiffens ever so slightly under your gaze.
She swallows, clearing her throat "Welcome to Café Aurora. How can I help you?"
Hongjoong doesnât respond. Neither do you. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a neatly folded envelope, placing it on the counter.
"Itâs my resignation. Thank Mr. Choi on my behalf."
Jina flinches slightly at the soft thud of the envelope hitting the polished wood.
"What?" Her voice comes out quieter than she intends.
He doesnât repeat himself. He simply watches her, expression unreadable. A heavy silence settles between the three of you, thick with tension.
Then, he speaks againâhis tone even, but firm.
"Before we go, I want to ask you something, Jina." She tenses. "Where do you know Park Seonghwa from?"
For the first time, true panic flashes across her face.
Her breath catches. Her fingers tighten around the rag sheâs holding, knuckles turning white.
You donât miss the way her eyes flick toward youâjust for a secondâbefore she quickly looks away, pretending to focus on something across the room.
Like sheâs debating whether or not to lie.
Like sheâs wondering if you remember.
Your own brows furrow slightly. Why would sheâAnd then it hits you.
The familiarity in her gaze. The way she seems to know you, not just Hongjoong.
You narrow your eyes âWhy do I feel like Iâve seen you before?â
Jinaâs jaw tightens, lips pressing into a firm line.
Hongjoong shifts slightly beside you, glancing between the two of you âWait. You know her?â
You blink, memories stirring in the back of your mind, hazy but persistent. You have seen her before.
Not here.
Not as Hongjoongâs coworker.
But years ago.
At Seonghwaâs house.
Your stomach drops, realization crashes into you like a tidal wave. Jina wasnât just some random girl working at this cafĂ©.
She worked for Seonghwaâs family.
She had been there. During the years you âdatedâ Hwa, when you spent countless afternoons at his house. And yet, back then, you never really noticed her.
She was just another staff member, someone in the background, someone who blended into the luxury of the Park estate.
But the way Jina looks at you nowâLike she remembers everything.
Like she knows exactly who you are.
Your throat tightens, and Hongjoong notices the change in your expression immediately.
âYN?â
Jina exhales slowly, fingers still gripping the rag in her hands. Thenâfinallyâshe speaks. "So, you really donât remember, huh?"
You meet her gaze, heart pounding âRemember what?â
Jina lets out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking her head âFigures.â She leans forward slightly, lowering her voice. âYou used to be in his house all the time, but you never even looked at me, did you?â
Your fingers curl into fists âWhat the hell are you talking about?â
Jina tilts her head, eyes glinting âYou really donât know, do you?â
Hongjoong stiffens beside you âKnow what?â
She pauses, studying you both.
"Are you sure Seonghwa wanted something serious with you back then?"
A sharp, hollow ache settles in your chest, the weight of Jinaâs words pressing into you like a slow, creeping poison.
âWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?â Your voice is sharp, but thereâs something beneath itâsomething raw.
Jina smirks, tapping her fingers against the counter, eyes flickering between you and Hongjoong.
âI mean exactly what I said. Are you sure Seonghwa ever really saw you as his?â
Hongjoong shifts beside you, his presence grounding you, but your pulse is hammering against your ribs.
âYouâre lying.â
Jina raises a brow, clearly amused âAm I?â
Your jaw clenches. You want to ignore this. You want to roll your eyes, turn around, and walk out like none of this matters. Like he doesnât matter. Like your past with Hwa was just thatâpast.
But something inside you twists.
You had liked himâreally liked him. Back then, you had convinced yourself that the games you played with him meant something, that the tension, the lingering glances, the way he acted like you were the only girl in the room was real.
But if Jinaâs words were trueâif he had never really meant it, if you were just one of manyâthen what the hell had all of it been for?
Your stomach churns. Hongjoong, silent until now, finally steps in, his voice firm, protective.
âYN, we donât have to listen to this.â
But you canât move. You canât breathe. Because the memories are flashingâthe nights you waited for Seonghwa to call, the excuses he made, the moments that never quite added up.
Jina watches you, her smirk deepening âThere it is.â
You snap your gaze back to hers, eyes burning âWhat do you want? Huh? Whatâs your goal here?â
Jina leans back, feigning innocence âI donât want anything. I just think you deserve to know what kind of man Seonghwa really is.â
It shouldnât hurt. Not anymore.
You have Hongjoong.
Hongjoong, who would never play with your feelings like that. Hongjoong, who looks at you like youâre the only girl in the world.
And suddenly, thatâs enough.
The pain dulls.
You exhale, letting go of the sharp, bitter sting in your chest. You turn to him, and when your eyes meet, the warmth there is undeniable.
You have everything you need.
Seonghwa is just a name from your past. A mistake.
You look back at Jina, but this time, your lips curveânot into a smirk, not into anger, but into indifference.
âYou know what, Jina?â You say smoothly, voice steady. âI donât care.â
Jina blinks, her smirk faltering for the first time.
You step closer, tilting your head âYou really thought this would break me?â A soft chuckle leaves your lips. âThatâs pathetic.â
And with that, you turn to Hongjoong, grabbing his hand as you lace your fingers through his. His grip tightens, reassuring.
Without another word, you pull him toward the exit, leaving Jina behind.
Because for the first time, you realizeâyouâve already won.
âź â
The low hum of the car engine fills the silence between you and Hongjoong as he drives through the dimly lit streets.
The city blurs past, neon lights reflecting against the windshield, but your mind is somewhere elseâstuck in the past.
Hongjoong doesnât say anything at first, but you can feel his eyes flicking toward you every few seconds, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
He can sense itâthe shift in your mood, the way your shoulders are tense, the distant look in your eyes.
âYouâre quiet,â He finally says, voice softer than usual.
You donât answer right away. Instead, you sigh, shifting slightly in your seat.
âIâm just⊠thinking.â
Hongjoong hums in acknowledgment, giving you space to find the words. You exhale sharply, pressing your forehead against the window for a moment before turning to him.
âDid I ever tell you that I really liked Seonghwa?â
Hongjoongâs fingers twitch around the wheel, but he keeps his expression neutral.
âNo, but I assumed it for the way you two used to act.â He says carefully.
A bitter chuckle leaves your lips âWell, I did. Or at least, I thought I did.â You shake your head, scoffing at yourself. âI was so sure that what we had was real. That if I played hard to get long enough, heâd actually make a move.â
He doesnât interrupt, just listens.
Your fingers tighten into your lap âAnd now, to find out that he was screwing around with Jina the entire timeâŠâ You trail off, clenching your jaw. âI was an idiot.â
Hongjoong exhales, reaching over to take your hand in his. His thumb strokes slow, soothing circles against your skin.
âYou werenât an idiot,â He murmurs. âYou just believed in someone who didnât deserve it.â
Your chest tightens. You glance down at your joined hands, the warmth of his touch spreading through you, grounding you.
He continues, his voice gentle but firm âSeoghwa never deserved you. And if he had even half a brain, he wouldâve known that.â
You look at him then, your lips parting slightly. Thereâs no jealousy in his voice. No smugness. Just certainty. Like heâs always known your worthâeven when you didnât.
For the first time since leaving the café, the ache in your chest softens.
You squeeze his hand âThank you, Joongie.â You say quietly.
Hongjoong offers you a small smile before focusing back on the road.
âAre you going to confront him?â He asks.
You nod, your gaze sharpening âOh, absolutely. He owes me an apology, and heâs going to give it.â
He chuckles âRemind me never to piss you off.â
You smirk, feeling lighter than before âOh, you already did. Youâre just lucky I forgave you.â
By the time you pull into the long driveway of your mansion, the tension between you and Hongjoong has shifted into something else entirely.
Something heavier.
The moment the car stops, silence settles between youâthick, charged.
Hongjoong shifts in his seat, eyes flickering to yours, dark and hungry âYouâre staring,â He murmurs.
Your lips curl into a slow smirk âSo are you.â
He swallows hard. You know what heâs thinking. You feel itâthe weight of weeks spent apart, of lingering touches that never went far enough, of all the things left unsaid.
And now, alone in the dim glow of the car, it finally snaps.
You reach for him first, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pull him in. Your lips crash against his, and the moment they do, he groansâlow, needy, like heâs been starving for this.
Hongjoong kisses you like heâs making up for lost timeâdesperate, reckless, his hands sliding up your waist, gripping you tighter than he should.
You donât care, you want itâwant him.
A soft moan escapes you when his fingers slip beneath your dress, skimming along your thighs, his touch scorching against your skin.
âFuck,â He breathes against your lips, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. âWe shouldâgo inside.â
You smirk, trailing your fingers down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath your palm.
âYou sure you can wait that long?â
His jaw clenches, his hands tightening around you, and before you know it, heâs pulling you into his lap, his seat pushed back just enough.
The moment you straddle him, he loses it.
His hands roam greedily, his lips devour yours, his breath hitching every time you grind against him.
But thenâ
The sudden flash of headlights approaching the driveway snaps you both back to reality.
You jolt, your eyes widening âShit.â
Hongjoong curses, gripping your waist as you scramble off him, both of you breathless, flushed, aching. You adjust your skirt, and Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
âYouâre a menace,â He mutters, voice hoarse.
You grin, fixing your lipstick in the rearview mirror âAnd you love it.â
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head âYeah. I do.â
The moment you step out of the car, smoothing your dress and pretending you werenât just grinding on your nerdy boy, you hear the hum of an approaching engine.
Hongjoong, still catching his breath, freezes beside you. His hair is a mess, his hoodie slightly disheveledâhe looks guilty as hell. You turn your head just in time to see the sleek black car pulling into the driveway.
Your parentsâ car, your heart drops.
He exhales sharply âYouâve got to be fucking kidding me.â
You barely have time to compose yourself before the car door swings open and your mother steps out first, graceful as ever. Your father follows, adjusting his cufflinks, both completely unaware of what they just interrupted.
Yet.
âSweetie!â Your motherâs voice is warm, delighted. âWhat a surprise to see you home early.â
Hongjoong tenses beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking like a kid caught sneaking out past curfew.
You, on the other hand, recover instantly, flipping your hair over your shoulder and flashing a perfectly practiced smile.
âHi.â You greet smoothly, stepping forward like nothing is out of the ordinary. âDidnât expect you two back so soon. How was dinner?â
Your father eyes Hongjoong for a second longer than necessary before answering.
âProductive,â He says, his tone measured. âWe met with investorsâsecured another deal.â
âOh, how lovely.â You nod, your voice syrupy sweet, desperately hoping they wonât notice the faint smudge of lipstick on Hongjoongâs jaw.
But your motherâs sharp gaze flickers between the two of you, taking in every detail. The way Hongjoong wonât meet her eyes, the slight flush on his face, the way your dress looks just a little more wrinkled than before.
Thenârealization dawns.
Her lips twitch âOh, honey,â She hums, amused. âWe didnât⊠interrupt anything, did we?â
Hongjoong chokes. Actually chokes.
You blink, keeping your expression perfectly neutral âOf course not,â You lie effortlessly.
Your mother tilts her head, clearly not believing a single word.
Your father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. âDarling, be discreet,â He mutters. âIf you must do⊠thisââhe waves a vague hand between you and HongjoongââAt least have the decency to do it inside the house.â
Hongjoong turns bright red. his glasses covering the way his eyes shut with embarrassment.
You grin, looping your arm through his âOf course, Daddy. Weâll be very discreet.â
Your father groans. Your mother, meanwhile, just smirks, shaking her head.
âHongjoong, dear,â She says smoothly, âWhy donât you come inside for a drink before you go?â
Hongjoong, still recovering, nods stiffly âUh. Yeah. Sure.â
You pat his chest, whispering, âRelax, nerd. My mom likes you.â
He mutters under his breath âThatâs not the one Iâm worried about.â
And with that, you lead him insideâyour parents following close behind, and your mother still very much amused.
The warmth of the mansion greets you as you step inside, but the atmosphere is anything but comfortable for Hongjoong.
Your mother glides in effortlessly, a small knowing smile still lingering on her lips, while your father sighs heavily, already loosening his tie like he doesnât want to deal with this tonight.
Hongjoong, on the other hand?
He looks like heâd rather be anywhere else.
You squeeze his hand reassuringly as the four of you step into the lounge, where the dim glow of the chandelier casts soft shadows across the room.
Your mother gestures toward the leather sofas âSit, sit,â She says, her voice almost teasing.
He hesitates. You donât.
Dragging him along with you, you plop down elegantly on one of the couches, crossing your legs, exuding nothing but confidence. Hongjoong, stiff as a board, lowers himself beside youâlooking very out of place.
Your father pours himself a drink, running a tired hand through his hair before turning to him.
âWhiskey?â He asks.
Hongjoong blinks âUhâno, sir. Iâm good.â
Your mother hums, sitting gracefully across from you both âYou donât have to be so formal, Hongjoong. We already know you and YN are⊠close.â
He shifts uncomfortably âRight.â
You smirk, tapping your fingers against your knee âYou donât have to traumatize him, Mom.â
Your mother chuckles, tilting her head âI think itâs adorable. Youâre the first boy YN has ever brought home in a serious way.â
Hongjoong freezes.
Your father scoffs âSerious?â He sips his drink, unimpressed. âThis is the same girl who threw a designer shoe at my head when I suggested she attend a dinner instead of going out with friends.â
Your mother ignores him âHongjoong, sweetheart, how is your family?â
He blinks, snapping out of his existential crisis âOhâuh, good. My dad had his first day today. Thank you again for the opportunity, Mr. Clarke.â
Your father nods, dismissive âHe did well.â
Your mother, however, smiles warmly âIt was YNâs idea.â
Mike turns to you. âI know,â he says softly. âI still donât know how to thank you.â
You shrug, feigning nonchalance. âYou donât have to.â
But your mother? She notices everythingâthe way Hongjoong looks at you, the way your fingers twitch like youâre stopping yourself from reaching for his hand, the way he makes you soft.
Her smile deepens âWell,â She hums, placing her glass down. âSince weâre all so comfortable, why donât you join us for dinner sometime soon, Hongjoong?â
He stiffens, you grin. Your father sighs, already regretting everything.
Hongjoong clears his throat âThatâs⊠really generous, Mrs. Clarke.â
âOh, please,â She waves him off. âCall me Catherine.â
Hongjoong visibly swallows âThatâs⊠really generous, Catherine.â
Your father nearly chokes on his drink, you snicker under your breath.
Your mother just beams âPerfect. Iâll set something up soon.â
He nods, and just when he thinks the interrogation is over your motherâs eyes flicker between the two of you, her smirk returning.
âSo,â She leans forward slightly, voice dangerously amused. âWhere exactly were you two before we arrived?â
Hongjoong stops breathing.
Your father sighs into his whiskey âJesus Christ, Catherine.â
You, completely unbothered, just smirk âNowhere interesting.â
Your mother laughs, sipping her wine.
Hongjoong? Heâs never been more stressed in his life.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
The school hallways are alive with chatter as you step through the entrance, the silence parting for you like the sea parting for royalty.
Itâs been three weeks since you last walked these halls. Three long weeks, spent hiding in the shadows of your own house, nursing wounds both physical and emotional.
But today, you're back.
Your heels click against the floor with each confident step, and you feel the eyes of the students on youâsome of them staring in awe, some in jealousy, and others in pure admiration.
Whispers ripple through the crowd as you walk past them, and you canât help but smirk. You know what theyâre saying.
The Queen Bee has returned.
You walk with your head held high, shoulders squared, and a smile that borders on smug. Your friends are all there, surrounding you like the loyal subjects they are. Mindy and Wooyoung are by your side, smiling at the attention you're getting, the flashes of admiration in their eyes mirroring your own.
But even as you drink in the attention, thereâs something in the air that you canât ignore. The familiar pressure of someoneâs gazeâthe feeling of eyes on you from across the room.
You know who it is before you even see him.
Seonghwa.
You turn your head, catching sight of him standing near his locker, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watches you approach. He straightens as you get closer, the friendly expression in his eyes barely masking the sharpness beneath.
"Sweetheart," He says, his voice smooth, warm, and filled with an almost brotherly concern. "Where have you been? Haven't seen you around for a while. Everything okay?"
You smile, perfectly poised, the kind of smile that looks warm but never quite reaches your eyes.
âSeonghwa,â You greet, stopping just short of where he stands. âHow sweet of you to notice.â
He chuckles, leaning against his locker with the kind of casual arrogance that once made your stomach flutter.
Now? It makes you sick.
âOf course I noticed,â He says smoothly, eyes flickering over your face, your stanceâalways analyzing, always calculating. âThree weeks is a long time to go without seeing you.â
Mindy and Wooyoung exchange glances behind you, but they say nothing. They know better than to interrupt.
You tilt your head, feigning curiosity âDid you miss me?â
Hwa smirks, and there it isâthat infuriating, cocky confidence, the belief that youâll always fall into his hands, just like you used to.
âI think the better question is,â He steps closer, voice lowering, âDid you miss me?â
You laugh, the sound light and dismissive, like the very thought is entertaining.
âHwa,â You purr, tapping a manicured nail against your chin, âIâve had⊠so much to think about these past few weeks.â Your gaze drags over him, slow, assessingâletting him think he still has a chance. âYou wouldnât believe the things Iâve learned.â
His smirk falters for half a second, but you see it.
You see everything.
You step closer, close enough that only he can hear you when you murmur, âYou and I have so much to catch up on.â
Seonghwa studies you, trying to gauge if youâre being playful or if thereâs something more dangerous beneath your words.
You donât let him figure it out.
Instead, you brush past him, letting your perfume linger in the air between you, a lingering reminder that you are no longer the fool who once loved him blindly.
Mindy falls into step beside you, waiting until youâre out of earshot before whispering, âThat was fucking terrifying.â
Wooyoung just whistles âDamn, babydoll. Heâs gonna suffer.â
You smile.
He has no idea.
âź â
The cafeteria is alive with energy, students laughing, chatting, living in their own little worlds. But at your table? The air is thick, heavy with tension, the kind that turns heads and makes people pay attention.
You sit at your usual spot, sipping your drink as Mindy and Wooyoung throw teasing comments back and forth.
Across from you, San and Mingi lounge comfortably, more entertained than anything as Seonghwa takes his seat, acting as if he owns the space.
And he might have before.
Before he started working against you. Before he thought he could outplay you. Before you learned the truth.
Seonghwa leans forward, flashing you a smirk, his presence demanding your attention "So, babyâ"
âHey, pretty.â
The entire table shifts, your smirk grows before you even turn to look. Because you already know who that voice belongs to.
Hongjoong.
He slides into the seat beside you like heâs been doing it for years, like this is exactly where he belongs. And thenâhe does it. He leans in, presses a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, his hand resting against your thigh like itâs his right.
Seonghwa goes still.
Mindy bites her lip to keep from grinning. Wooyoung? Heâs barely containing a laugh.
San and Mingi glance at each other, picking up on something dangerous.
But Seonghwa?
Heâs frozen, staring at you and Hongjoong like the world just tilted off its axis.
âYouâve gotta be kidding me.â His voice is low, tight with something uglier than frustration.
You tilt your head, eyes dancing with amusement âSomething wrong?â
Hwaâs jaw clenches âI thoughtâŠâ He stops himself, recalculating, but the damage is already done. You see it in his eyes.
He thought he still had a chance.
And now? He doesnât.
Hongjoong doesnât even glance at him. He just shrugs, completely at ease âI think he thought we werenât on good terms, pretty.â
Seonghwaâs eyes snap to him, burning with fury.
You smirk.
âOh, Hwa,â Mindy sighs dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. âYou shouldâve kept up with the gossip.â
Seonghwa stares at you, as if waiting for some kind of explanation, some confirmation that this is all a joke.
But you donât give him one. Instead, you lean into Hongjoongâs touch, fingers grazing over his wrist in an intimate, deliberate move.
The weight of his glare is suffocating, burning into you and Hongjoong, but neither of you react. You just smile, the picture of ease, while Hongjoongâcalm, collected, unbotheredâtakes a sip of his drink like this is just another normal day.
San and Mingi exchange a look, sensing the storm brewing, but Wooyoung and Mindy? Theyâre thriving in the chaos.
Seonghwa finally speaks, his voice tight, controlled, but just barely.
âSo, what? You two justâgot back together?â His fingers drum against the table, a nervous tick he canât quite suppress.
You lean back, feigning surprise âWhy wouldnât we?â
His eyes darken, his lips part like heâs about to argue, but he stops himself. Heâs realizing things, piecing together all the lies he swallowed as truth.
Mindy hums, propping her chin on her hand âDid you really think they broke up, Hwa?â
Seonghwa doesnât look at her. He looks at you and you hold his gaze, refusing to be the first to break. He hated that about youâhow you never wavered, never bent to his will.
His tongue clicks, irritation flashing across his face âItâs just funny, thatâs all.â His smirk returns, but itâs weaker now, forced. âConsidering the rumors.â
You feign innocence âRumors?â
He leans in, dropping his voice so only you can hear âThat this nerd was using you.â
Hongjoong tenses beside you.
You grin, slow and deliberate âOh, that.â
Hwaâs smirk twitches. You place a hand on Hongjoongâs thigh, casual, effortlessâa claim.
âIf that were true,â You murmur, âDo you really think Iâd still be with him?â
Seonghwa hates the way Hongjoong doesnât even have to say anything. Hates the way youâre looking at him like heâs the one whoâs pathetic.
His jaw tightens, and for a brief second, you can see itâthe fury, the frustration, the realization that he played himself.
And thenâhe laughs. Shakes his head, leaning back, drumming his fingers on the table again, pretending this doesnât bother him.
âGuess not,â He mutters, eyes flicking toward Wooyoung and Mindy. âGuess someoneâs been feeding me bullshit.â
Mindy gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest âOh no, Hwa. Were you misled?â
Wooyoung grins, wrapping an arm around her âDamn, man. Thatâs rough.â
Hwaâs eyes narrow. He knows.
He knows they set him up.
And when he looks at you one last time, you donât have to say it out loud.
You played the game better.
And he lost.
For the first time, he has no control.
For the first time, you won.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
The final bell rings, signaling the end of another school day. Students spill into the hallways, laughter and chatter filling the air as everyone heads off to do whatever rich, privileged, private-school kids do after class.
You glance at Hongjoong as you walk beside him, nudging his arm lightly.
âSo, whatâs the plan, nerd? Are you free?â
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck âActually⊠Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang need me for something in the library.â
âYouâre ditching me to do nerd things?â
He chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets âNot ditching. I did say you could come.â
You stop walking, turning to him with a slow, dramatic smirk âYou want me to do nerd stuff⊠with your nerd friends⊠nerd?â
Hongjoong grins âBasically.â
You scoff, crossing your arms âI should say no on principle.â
âBut you wonât,â He counters easily, smug.
You narrow your eyes at him, then sigh in exaggerated defeat âFine. Iâll grace you all with my presence. But if I get bored, Iâm leaving.â
Hongjoong nudges your waist playfully âYou wonât.â
You roll your eyes but let him lead the way.
The library is quiet, dimly lit by the late afternoon sun filtering through the tall, arched windows. Shelves of books stretch high, the scent of old paper and wood polish lingering in the air.
At a far table, three familiar faces sit, already setting up their thingsâYunho, Jongho, and Yeosang. You and Hongjoong approach, and Yunho looks up first, his face brightening in surprise.
âOh, hey, man. You actually brought her?â
Jongho smirks âI thought sheâd be too busy shopping or making people cry.â
Hongjoong shrugs âShe wanted to come.â
You snort, sliding into a chair âLetâs not lie to ourselves, Kim.â
Yeosang laughs, shaking his head before glancing toward the bookshelves âWe should probably get started. Dannâs already here.â
âWaitâDannâs here?â The moment Hongjoong says it, you stiffen too.
You turn your head slowlyâtoo slowlyâuntil your gaze locks onto her.
Dann.
She stands a few feet away, a book clutched tightly in her hands, her entire body tense.
Your presence here? She wasnât expecting it.
You and Hongjoong sit down at the table, but there's an undeniable awkwardness that hangs in the air. Dannâs presence is almost suffocatingâyou can feel her gaze on you, but you pretend you don't notice.
Instead, you lean in toward Hongjoong, your hand finding its way to his thigh under the table.
His fingers graze your wrist as you smile at him, brushing your lips against his ear âReady to work, nerd?â You murmur, your breath warm against his skin.
He smiles back, that familiar look of adoration in his eyes âAlways, but firstââ
He leans in and kisses you, slow and teasing, the kind of kiss that makes you feel like the world just stops for a moment.
You pull away just slightly, eyes meeting his âYou really need to stop distracting me,â You tease.
Hongjoong grins, not one bit sorry âI canât help it when you're so distracting.â
The others at the table shift uncomfortably, and you feel the heat of their awkward glances. Yunho, trying to break the tension, clears his throat loudly.
âSo, Queen Bee, you gonna help us with this or what?â
You blink âHow quaint.â
âYeah, we're gonna need someone with that attitude to get through this,â Jongho jokes, nudging your shoulder playfully. âAnd since Joongâs clearly already distractedââ
You roll your eyes but donât resist âFine, fine. What are we doing?â
From the corner of your eye, you catch Dann standing slightly apart from the group, fidgeting with the book in her hands. Sheâs trying to act like sheâs not watching, but you feel itâher stare, the weight of her presence, the discomfort written all over her face.
Hongjoong, oblivious to everything but you, leans in slightly âWeâre creating study guides for other students. Wanna help?â
You scoff, crossing your arms âStudy guides? I didnât know school nerds were running that kind of operation.â
Jongho laughs, tilting his head at you âReally? I didnât know you even knew about the study guides. I thought you just paid nerds to take your exams for you.â
Your jaw drops slightly in mock offense, but in reality, you find the comment hilarious.
âExcuse you,â You huff, flipping your hair dramatically. âI am more than a pretty face, you nerd.â You snatch a textbook from the stack in front of you. âNow, give me those fucking books.â
Hongjoong grins at you, shaking his head âSee? Sheâs a fast learner.â
âI was always smart,â You correct, flipping open the book and pretending to scan the page.
âThatâs up for debate,â Jongho quips.
âYou better watch it,â You warn, smirking.
Yunho chuckles, nudging Dann, who still stands awkwardly on the sidelines âCome on, donât just stand there. Youâre supposed to be the real nerd here.â
Dann startles slightly, caught off guard âH-Huh?â
Yeosang shoots her a knowing look, his voice light but careful âDonât act like you havenât done this a million times before. Youâre always the one fixing our answers.â
Jongho nods in agreement âYeah, sit down, Dann.â
Dann hesitates, but the warmth in their voices, the familiarity, makes her shift awkwardly. âIâyeah.â
âYou in?â Yeosang asks.
Her heart clenches. Because thatâs the problem, isnât it? She was never really in. Not the way you are.
Not the way she wanted to be.
But despite the sting, she forces a smile, nodding âYeah. Iâm in.â
She pretends it doesnât hurt when she sees Hongjoongâs hand absently squeeze your thigh under the table.
She pretends that being included still means something.
Even if itâs too late.
ââ
As the study session progresses, the library fills with the quiet hum of flipping pages, hushed discussions, and the occasional laughter from your table.
You're flipping through one of the books, trying to make sense of the notes when Hongjoong leans closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
âYou sure youâre not just pretending to read?â He murmurs.
You scoff, shoving his face away lightly âShut up, nerd.â
Jongho snorts âThatâs literally what we saidâshe just sits here to look smart.â
You glare at him, tossing a pencil in his direction âI will end you.â
Yeosang smirks, tapping his pen against his notebook âI mean, to be fair, YN, we are impressed. Usually, youâd be terrorizing the halls, not⊠doing actual schoolwork.â
Yunho grins âAnd she hasnât threatened to quit yet. Growth.â
âYet,â You emphasize, pointing your pen at him. âDon't get ahead of yourselves.â
Hongjoong chuckles, sliding an arm over the back of your chair, his fingers lightly grazing your shoulder.
âNah, sheâs too competitive to quit now. Sheâs gotta prove us all wrong.â
You huff but donât deny it. Meanwhile, Dann barely hears the conversation.
She keeps her head down, scribbling mindlessly in the margins of her notebook, pretending to be focused. But in reality, sheâs distractedâby the way Hongjoong leans into you, how effortlessly you fall into place among his friends.
She should be used to this feeling by now, but it still stings.
Yunho nudges her again, voice lighthearted âDann, you good? You havenât called me an idiot yet, and I know Iâve messed up at least three times.â
Dann blinks, forcing a weak chuckle âOhâuh, yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?â
Yeosang tilts his head, studying her a little too carefully, but doesnât press.
âWas just asking if I should format this section like the last one or break it into smaller parts,â Yunho says, handing her a sheet of notes.
She takes it with trembling fingers, trying to focus. But thenâ
Soft laughter.
She glances up just in time to see Hongjoong kissing your cheek, his hand resting way too comfortably on your lap.
Her stomach twists.
She did this.
She made a deal with Seonghwa. She fed Mike information. She helped spread rumors about you.
And for what?
To watch Hongjoong fall for someone else anyway? To watch you win again?
Her grip on the pen tightens. But⊠itâs not jealousy that eats at her this time.
Itâs guilt.
Because if she had just stayed out of it, if she hadnât let her petty resentment and heartbreak drive her, maybeâjust maybeâyou wouldnât have gotten hurt.
Maybe Mike wouldnât have gone that far.
Maybe Hongjoong wouldnât hate her if he knew.
But now, itâs too late.
She canât undo what sheâs done.
And soon, sheâll have no choice but to face it.
âź â
The library session lasts longer than expected. By the time you all wrap up, the school halls are mostly empty, bathed in the dim glow of the evening lights.
Hongjoong stretches beside you, cracking his neck "Alright, nerd squad, mission accomplished."
Jongho groans, rubbing his eyes "Barely. I swear, if one more person asks me to explain quadratic equations, I'm quitting school."
Yeosang chuckles, stuffing his papers into his bag "You'll survive. Probably."
"Yeah, yeah," Jongho mutters. Then he smirks. "Still can't believe YN actually helped."
"I told you," Hongjoong says proudly, pulling you close with an arm around your waist. "She's not just a pretty face."
"Obviously," You say, flipping your hair.
Yunho stretches, groaning "Thatâs enough brainpower for today."
Hongjoong grins "You sure? Thought nerd stuff was your hobby."
Linda scoffs, leaning into his side "Yeah, yeah, this was cute and all, but next time, Iâm making you all do my homework instead."
Hongjoong chuckles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger on your cheek for just a second longer than necessary, and the small gesture makes your heart flutter.
Across the table, Dann watches.
Everyone is grabbing their things, chatting casually about the day as they prepare to leave.
And thenâ
"You already know Hongjoong is using you, right?"
The words hang in the air, cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere like a blade.
Hongjoong freezes.
You do too.
Slowly, you turn your head, eyes locking onto Dann.
She looks like she immediately regrets it.
Yunho lets out a low whistle "Damn."
Yeosang glances between the three of you, eyebrows raised.
Jongho exhales sharply, his grip tightening around the strap of his backpack "What the hell did you just say?"
Dannâs mouth parts, but no words come out.
"Iâ"
"You know what?" Your voice is eerily calm, dangerously calm. "Let me make sure I heard you right." You tilt your head. "You think Joong is using me?"
Dannâs heart pounds, she didnât mean to say it.
It just slipped.
She was so lost in her own thoughts, so lost in the pain of seeing you two together that the words just fell out.
But now itâs too late.
Hongjoong scoffs, running a hand down his face "Thatâs actually insane."
"You know whatâs more insane?" You fold your arms. "The fact that you even thought that, Dann."
"Iâ" She tries again, her voice wavering. "I didnât mean⊠It was justâ"
"Just what?" Your voice is sharper now. "Something you just casually thought? Or did someone put that idea in your head?" Dannâs stomach drops. You let out a bitter chuckle. "Unbelievable."
Yunho and Jongho exchange glances, watching the scene unfold in tense silence.
Yeosang clears his throat "Uh, maybe we shouldâ"
"No." Hongjoong shakes his head. "I wanna hear this." His voice lowers, but itâs sharpâcutting. "You really think that little of me?"
Dann panics.
"I didnâtâ I mean, I donât know!" She blurts out, shaking her head. "I just.. I heardâ" She stops herself.
But itâs already too late.
Your expression doesnât change, but the slightest flicker in your gaze tells Hongjoong everything. You know exactly whatâs happening.
But you canât let on, so you do what you do best.
You smirk "You heard what?" You ask smoothly, tilting your head. "Come on, Dann. Donât get shy on me now."
Dann feels trapped. Every fiber in her being is screaming at her to fix this.
To lie.
To say anything to make it go away.
But she canât.
She can only stand there, feeling the weight of her own betrayal crushing down on her.
Hongjoong exhales sharply, shaking his head "I really thought we were cool, Dann."
That makes it worse.
He doesnât sound angry.
He sounds disappointed.
Dann swallows hard, staring at the floor "I⊠I should go."
Nobody stops her.
Not even Yunho, Jongho, or Yeosang.
She grabs her things and rushes out, leaving behind the suffocating tension she created.
The second sheâs gone, Jongho exhales, shaking his head "What the fuck was that?"
"That was crazy."
Hongjoong is still staring at the door Dann disappeared through.
You touch his arm, voice soft "You okay?"
He looks down at you, searching your face for a moment before sighing "Yeah," He mutters. "Iâm justâ I donât know. I was really hoping that she wasn't involved with Park and Mike."
You squeeze his hand, your voice steady "Well, she is."
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
The dining room is bathed in warm, golden light, the soft clinking of silverware against fine china the only sound filling the space.
The Clarke family dinners are always a performanceâelegance, poise, and surface-level pleasantries hiding the rot underneath.
You push your food around your plate, only half-listening as your mother hums approvingly, sipping her wine.
âWell,â She says, a pleased smile on her lips. âI must say, Hongjoongâs father has been a wonderful addition to the household staff.â
Your fork pauses midair.
Mikeâs does too.
Your father nods in agreement, setting his glass down âPunctual, respectful, efficientâeverything we could ask for. Heâs handling the job well.â
You relax slightly, about to take a bite when Mike speaks.
âIâm sorry, but what?â
The room stiffens. You glance up just in time to catch his expression shiftâfrom confusion to realization to rage.
Your mother, ever the graceful hostess, waves a hand delicately âOh, we didnât mention it, did we?â She chuckles lightly, as if it were a minor oversight. âYN came to us with the idea. Hongjoongâs father was out of work, so we hired him.â
Mikeâs jaw tightens, his grip on his knife turns white-knuckled. You feel the tension roll off him in waves.
Your fatherâoblivious or simply uninterested in Mikeâs growing furyâadds, âAnd truthfully, it was a great decision. The man is trustworthy. If he keeps it up, he might even stay with us long-term.â
Mikeâs fork clatters against his plate. Your mother flinches.
âI see,â He says, voice icy. His gaze cuts straight through you. âAnd no one thought to tell me?â
âDidnât seem necessary,â Your father replies simply.
Mikeâs anger shifts, redirecting itself entirely onto you âOf course,â He mutters. âIt was your idea.â
You meet his gaze, keeping your posture calm, collected, untouchable âYes,â You say, taking a sip of your wine. âIt was.â
He laughs, but thereâs no humor in it âUnbelievable.â
Your mother sighs, setting down her fork âMike, donât start.â
âDonât start?â Mike echoes, leaning back in his chair. âSo, let me get this straightâyou let her bring some random lower-class worker into our home, let him drive us around like some pet project, and Iâm just supposed to accept it?â
âHeâs not random,â You say, voice sharp. âHeâs Hongjoongâs father.â
âOh, right.â He scoffs, shaking his head. âHongjoong.â His gaze darkens. âThe same guy whoâs using you?â
You hold a smile, he still believes it.
Mike leans forward, elbows resting on the table, his eyes glinting with something cruel. âWhat, did he guilt you into this? Make you feel bad for his pathetic little family?â
You set your wine glass down a little too hard.
Your mother tenses. âMikeââ
But you cut her off âYou donât know a damn thing about him.â Your voice is cold, final.
He smirks âOh, but I do.â He tilts his head, eyes flickering with mock sympathy. âYou just donât want to hear it.â
âI donât want to hear it,â You agree, voice like steel. âBecause itâs bullshit.â
Mikeâs smirk drops.
Your father sighs âEnough.â
But Mike isnât finished âYou can dress him up however you want, YN,â he sneers. âBut at the end of the day? Heâs just a pathetic loser clinging to your last name.â
Your hands curl into fists.
âAnd you,â He continues, voice lowering, âAre a complete idiot for falling for it.â
The air is thick with silence.
Your mother exhales, rubbing her temples âMike, weâre eating.â
Your father levels him with a stare âYour attitude is getting out of hand.â
He laughs, pushing his plate away âYeah? Well, so is hers.â He stands, chair scraping against the floor. âYou can let yourself get used like a fucking idiot if you want,â He says, voice dripping with disgust. âJust donât expect me to sit here and watch.â
He storms off, leaving the room in tense silence. Your parents exchange a tired look. You take another sip of wine, heartbeat hammering in your chest.
From the hallway, someone is listening.
Dann.
And her guilt grows.
âź â
The Clarke mansion is quiet, the weight of dinnerâs tension still lingering in the air. The staff moves about their business in silence, avoiding eye contact, as if sensing that something dark is simmering beneath the surface.
Dann, however, isnât moving.
Sheâs frozen just outside the dining room, her mind replaying everything she just overheard. The way Mike spat his words at you, the venom in his voice, the sheer hatred he had for herâall because she had helped someone he despised.
Because you had made a choice that wasnât about him.
Dann swallows hard, guilt gnawing at her insides like a slow poison. She should feel relieved that you had fought backâthat for once, someone had shut Mike down. But all she feels is fear.
Because if he could talk to his own sister like that, what was stopping him from turning on her?
The thought chills her. She should leave. She should go to her room and pretend none of this is her problem. But before she can move a hand grabs her wrist.
She whirls around, heart slamming against her ribs, only to come face to face with him.
Mike.
The air leaves her lungs. His grip isnât tightânot yetâbut itâs firm enough to send pure terror coursing through her veins.
âYou,â He murmurs, his voice dangerously low. His eyes are sharp, scanning her face like sheâs something rotten beneath his shoe.
Dann tries to pull away, but his fingers tighten, his hold turning bruising.
âM-Mike,â She stammers, forcing a nervous laugh. âWhatâsâwhatâs wrong?â
His lips curl into a cold smirk âYou tell me.â
Dann swallows, willing herself to stay calm âI donâtââ
âDid you know?â His voice cuts through the air like a blade.
Dann stiffens âKnow⊠what?â
Mike leans in, his breath hot against her skin. âAbout Hongjoongâs father working for my family.â
âIââ
His grip tightens âDonât fucking lie to me, Dann.â
âI didnât know!â She blurts out, panic creeping into her voice. âI swear, IâI had no ideaââ
His jaw ticks. Heâs not buying it âYouâve been avoiding me,â He murmurs, his tone almost thoughtful. âEver since that night.â
Dann goes rigid.
That night.
The night he put his hands on you.
The night she realized just how much of a monster he truly was.
âI havenâtââ
His fingers suddenly clamp around her arm, and he pulls her forward, dragging her through the hallway. Dann yelps, stumbling after him, fear clawing at her throat.
âWhere are weâ?â
âSomewhere private,â He cuts her off smoothly.
Her stomach twists. The deeper into the house they go, the quieter it becomes. The staff is gone. Thereâs no one to see them. No one to stop him.
No one to help her.
Mike finally shoves open a door that leads to the back garden, a secluded area far from the main house. The night air is cold, but the way he looks at her sends a different kind of chill through her bones.
Dann stumbles back, chest heaving, trying to create space. âMike, Iââ
âYou think I donât see it?â He says, voice eerily calm. âYou think I donât know youâre hiding something from me?â
Dann shakes her head, heart pounding âI swear I didnât know about it. I would have told you!â
And it was true, she didn't know about Hongjoongâs father working for your family. But Mike just stares at her. Studying her.
Then he laughs.
A low, quiet chuckle that makes her skin crawl.
âLook at you,â He murmurs. âFucking shaking.â
Dann flinches.
Mike steps closer, towering over her âI donât like when people keep secrets from me, Dann,â He murmurs, voice like poison.
Dannâs chest tightens.
This is it.
This is the moment.
She can keep playing his game. Keep letting him control her. Keep living in fear.
Or she can do what she should have done weeks ago.
Her fingers curl into fists. She lifts her head, her cheek still burning, and looks him dead in the eyes.
âYouâre a fucking coward.â
Mike freezes.
Dannâs pulse roars in her ears. Her own words shock her. But once theyâre out, she canât stop.
âYou think youâre so powerful,â She breathes, voice shaking but growing stronger. âYou think everyone should be afraid of you. But deep down, youâre just pathetic.â
Mikeâs jaw clenches. Dann forces herself to smile. Itâs small, shaky, but itâs there.
And for the first time in weeks, she feels powerful. Because she can see it.
For just a fraction of a second, his smirk drops and before she can reactâ
His hand swings.
The impact is sharp, brutal. Dannâs head snaps to the side, a gasp catches in her throat. The sting spreads across her cheek like fire, her vision blurring from the sheer shock.
Her body locks up.
She canât breathe.
She canât move.
Dannâs heart is pounding so loudly it drowns out the quiet.
Mikeâs handprint burns on her cheek, the sting radiating through her skull, but the real pain isnât physical.
Itâs the terror.
The realization that she pushed him too far. The garden is empty, secludedâthe perfect place for a nightmare. And Mike?
He looks like heâs enjoying it.
His lips curve into a slow smirk as he watches her struggle to catch her breath, her fingers trembling at her sides.
âYouâre a fucking coward.â
The words still hang in the air, and Dann knows sheâs signed her own death sentence.
Mikeâs expression darkens. His posture stiffens. And then he laughs.
Low. Amused. Cruel.
âDo you even know who youâre talking to?â His voice is quiet, almost mocking.
Dann stays silent. She knows better than to answer. But he doesnât need her to. He steps forward, closing the space between them, and she flinches instinctively.
His smirk widens âCute. You think youâre brave now, donât you?â
Dann swallows hard âIââ
âShut up,â He cuts her off. The amusement vanishes, replaced with something far colder.
His gaze sweeps over her, calculating, dissectingâlike heâs deciding exactly how to break her.
âI bet you think you have nothing to lose,â He murmurs. âThat you can just walk away from this and be fine.â
Dannâs breathing falters.
That tone. That deadly calm.
Itâs worse than when heâs yelling. Because when Mike speaks like thisâhe means it.
âI could ruin your mother in a second,â He continues, voice smooth, effortless. âShe works for my family. She needs this job. And you?â His head tilts slightly. âYou need her to keep it. To pay for your fatherâs hospital bills.â
Dannâs stomach twists violently.
He knows.
He knows.
âHow did youâ?â Her voice catches.
Mike chuckles âYou think I donât do my research?â His expression turns mocking. âYour poor, pitiful father, lying there in a hospital bed, while your mother slaves away to keep him alive. And you? You run around playing spy for me, all because you wanted some nerd to look your way.â
Dann feels sick. Her fingers curl into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.
âLeave them out of this,â She whispers.
âOh? Now you care?â Mike exhales sharply, like heâs bored. âI mean, your motherâs getting old, isnât she? I doubt sheâd find another job if something were to⊠happen to her position.â
Dannâs lungs seize. And then, the final nail in the coffin.
âOh, and your father?â Mike clicks his tongue. âA vegetable in a hospital bed, wasting away.â His tone is almost mocking. âHow long has it been? Three years?â
Dannâs entire body locks up. Because heâs right.
Three years.
Three years of her mother breaking her back to keep him alive. Three years of Dann doing everything she could to ease the burden.
Three years of hoping. That maybe, one day, her father would wake up.
Mikeâs voice cuts through the fog of her fear âI could make that bed disappear, you know.â
Dann stares at him, eyes wide.
âI mean, think about it.â He shrugs. âWhatâs the point of keeping someone around who isnât even awake? The doctors must be tired of keeping him alive. And your mother? Imagine how relieved sheâd be if she didnât have to worry about hospital bills anymore.â
Dannâs breathing turns shallow. Her fingers dig into her skin so hard they might leave bruises. Mike leans back, watching her come undone.
Then he smiles âAnd as for you?â He leans in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. âI can make sure you donât even finish school.â
Dannâs heart drops, his smirk is gone now, his eyes cold and merciless.
âYou think my family doesnât have connections in the education system?â He scoffs. âAll it takes is one phone call. One simple request. And suddenly, your scholarship? Gone. Your grades? Suspiciously altered. Your teachers? Unwilling to recommend you for any other school.â
Dann freezes, because heâs not bluffing. This isnât an empty threat.
This is real.
Her entire futureâher motherâs futureâher fatherâs lifeâall hanging by a single thread. And Mike?
Heâs holding the scissors.
âYou donât want that, do you? So, tell me, Dann.â His voice softens, but the cruelty behind it only makes it worse. âAre you still on my side?â
Dannâs lips part, but no words come out.
She should scream. She should fight back.
She should run.
But insteadâShe nods.
Because she has no choice.
Because sheâs afraid.
Because her fatherâs life is hanging in the balance.
And because sheâs not ready to lose everything.
Mikeâs smirk returns âGood girl.â
And just like thatâitâs over. He pats her cheek mockingly before stepping back.
âYou know what to do.â His voice is smooth, assured, like heâs never once considered the possibility of her betraying him.
Because why would he?
Sheâs trapped.
Dann watches as he walks away, leaving her frozen in the garden, hands trembling, chest tight.
Her father, her mother, her entire life.
Mike owns all of it.
Tears blur her vision as she wraps her arms around herself, body wracked with silent shame.
She wants to do the right thing.
But survival?
It comes first
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
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All rights reserved âĄbunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.
WE GOT ONE!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!
This was really good! Love the angst and the ending too. <3
ౚৠPAIRINGâ rockstar!jeong yunho x reader
ౚৠGENREâ fluff, ended relationship, fem!reader
ౚৠWARNINGSâ angst, fluff
ౚৠWORD COUNTâ 1.4k
ౚৠSUMMARYâ you broke up because he was too focused on his music dream, but maybe you and love were the real dream all along.
ౚৠA/Nâ i saw a lot of people saying they wanted a oneshot with the concept photos from the 2025 seasons greetings, so i made one! i hope you like it, even though it isnât quite as angsty as you probably wanted :( still, feedback is appreciated and thanks for reading, lovelies! <3 (iâll tag a few people who said they were interested if someone wrote one: @beabatiny, @goldendynastys, @kibs-and-bits)
Staring at the fire crackling, you try to hold back the tears that threaten to escape. When had it all gone so wrong?
Just last year, you had been enjoying your boyfriendâs Christmas show with his rock band, and now youâre sitting alone, the night before Christmas.
The crackling of the fire adds to your melancholy, the harsh cold winds blowing outside creating a gloomy atmosphere. You know you should forget like he has, but you canât throw away two years of your life that easily.
The memories of last Christmas come flooding back to you, even as you try to suppress them. Memories of sitting beside the fire with Yunho, cuddling as you watched a cheesy Christmas movie. Or baking Christmas cookies together at his apartment, laughing as you threw flour at each other.
Turning to the remote controller, you press the power button, not expecting to see him on the screen. His band is playing, and you immediately feel a pang in your chest at the sight of him, his fingers dashing across the keyboard.
Even though heâs the keyboard player and not the lead singer, he has an air about him that draws you in, making it unable to look away, even as you know you should. Why is he still having this effect on you?
The song is one you recognize. âMerry Christmas, Please Donât Call,â by Bleachers.
Itâs a song heâd introduced to you last Christmas, and, even though itâs sad, it had been a source of joy for you in a way last year, because you remember dancing to the song with him, smiling and laughing.
Now, it really is sad.
When he gets up at the end of the song, leaning into the microphone, you furrow your eyebrows, listening.
âThat song goes out to someone I lost a year ago today.â He looks right at the camera, his brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. âIâm sorry, baby. I wish it had been different, but know that I never really stopped loving you.â
You gasp, only momentarily questioning if heâs really talking to you, before you jump up, now determined to make things right for some reason. You know itâll probably end in more heartache, but you have to try.
Grabbing your keys and coat, you hurry out the door into the winter storm, unlocking your car before hopping in.
Even though the roads are horrible tonight, you know the way to his apartment like the back of your hand, only slowing because of the snow.
About twenty minutes later, you arrive at his apartment complex, hurrying out of the car, through the blinding snow, and into the lobby of the building.
You try to calm yourself down, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button to the fourth floor.
When you get to the floor, you walk down the hall, slowing to a stop in front of his door. Taking a deep breath, you knock.
It takes about two minutes, but the door opens, revealing a messy-haired Yunho, a few locks of his dark blue hair having fallen in front of his brown eyes, which widen at the sight of you.
âY/N?â he whispers, his hand clutching the doorknob so tight you think he might break it. âWhat are you doing here?â
âI saw the program.â
âOh.â
With a sigh, you rub your arm, biting your lip, really starting to wonder what youâre really doing here yourself. âH-How have you been?â
âIs that really what youâre going to ask?â Yunho asks, giving you a half-smile.
âWhat else would I say?â you question softly, suddenly feeling stupid for coming to see him. âI canât just say Merry Christmas or something stupid like Iâve missed youââ
âCanât you?â he asks, his dark eyes searching yours. âBecause Iâve missed you.â
Sighing, you frown slightly, âThis canât be happening. I donât know what I was thinking. Let me justââ
He grabs your wrist as you turn to leave, making your gaze snap back to his. âEvery day without you has been torture. You came to see me for a reason. Do you feel the same?â
âYunho, it doesnât matter how we feel. It canât work now anymore than it did then. We have different goals.â
âWe donât have to!â he exclaims, almost desperately. âI canât give up the band if thatâs what you want. You were upset it took up so much of my time? Iâll quit.â
Your eyes widen as you shake your head, âYunho, the reason you couldnât give it up for me before is because itâs what you love to do. I canât take that away from you. I canât make you live without it.â
âWell, I canât live without you.â
His words hang heavy in the air, making you suck in a sharp breath, âYunhoâŠâ
âDonât say anything,â Yunho tells you, taking a single step closer. âJust tell meâŠâ
âTell you what?â you ask, your eyebrows furrowing.
âWhat do you feel?â he asks, just before he leans in, his face inches from yours. Your heartbeat quickens as his warm breath fans across your lips. âIf you feel nothing, Iâll leave you alone.â
Youâre torn between wanting to close the distance and knowing you shouldnât.
You donât have to wait for long.
It feels like the world stops when his soft lips brush against yours for the first time in months. It isnât like an electric shock, with fireworks exploding, rather itâs like coming home after a long time away. Like warmth and softness and⊠love.
It only takes a few seconds for you to melt into him, the kiss deepening as he lifts his hands to cup your face, your hands finding his chest, his heartbeat quickens beneath yours fingertips.
After a few moments, he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours as he pants softly, waiting for you to respond.
âI wish I could say I felt nothing,â you whisper, feeling a little helpless against your emotions. âBut I canât. Iâve never been able to.â
âThen give us another chance,â Yunho pleads, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones. âI meant what I said during the program. Iâve never stopped loving you.â
âBut what about the band? What about all the reasons we broke up months ago?â
âYou and I both know we were being petty then. And I can quit the band, like I said,â Yunho replies, his tone serious.
âI donât want you to,â you respond quietly, making him furrow his eyebrows.
âWhat?â he asks slowly, confusion etched into his features.
âI donât want you to quit what you love,â you clarify. âThatâs what ended things between us before. We quit on our love, and I wonât let you quit on the band now. I was stupid to think you loved me any less because of your passion for music. Please donât stop playing, Yun.â
âAre you sure?â he asks slowly. âItâll still take up as much time as it did before, maybe more, since weâve grown a little more popular now.â
âI donât care,â you smile softly. âAll I care about is being with you again. And I wonât let my jealousy over your time get in the way again⊠as long as you let me come to your shows.â
âEvery single one.â
With a small laugh, you lean forward, pressing another soft kiss to his lips before burying your face in his neck, inhaling his calming scent youâve missed so much.
âMaybe we should get out of the hallway?â Yunho chuckles, tugging your hand, guiding you into his apartment. âWe have a lot of catching up to do.â
You smile shyly, nodding, as you let him close the door behind you both.
Three months later, youâre cheering for Yunho and his band as he performs, smiling widely when he finally comes backstage, his arms open as you laugh, throwing yourself into his arms for a hug. âYou did so well, Yunnie,â you whisper in his ear.
He grins, nuzzling his nose into your hair, âThank you, baby. Youâre always the best cheerleader.â
âCanât say I donât like the fake tattoos on your hands either,â you tell him wryly, tracing the markings with your finger.
âOh?â he asks, chuckling softly, his eyes sparking with mischief. âMaybe Iâll leave them on for a little while. And Iâll be sure to tell the stylist you like them.â
âGood,â you grin. âIâm good with anything now as long as you never tell me âplease donât callâ like you did last winter ever again.â
âWouldnât dream of it.â
đŒ đđ”đŠđŠđ» đđȘđ€ đđŠđ€đ°đźđźđŠđŻđ„đąđ”đȘđ°đŻđŽ đđ±.đđȘđ·đŠ! đŒ đ đđąđ”đ¶đłđŠ đđ©đŠđźđŠđŽ đ đŒ đđȘđŻđ°đłđŽ/đđšđŠđđŠđŽđŽ/đđđąđŻđŹ đđđ°đšđŽ đ„đ°đŻ'đ” đȘđŻđ”đŠđłđąđ€đ” đ°đł đșđ°đ¶ đžđȘđđ đŁđŠ đŁđđ°đ€đŹđŠđ„ đŒ đŒ đ°đ”8/đźđ¶đđ”đȘđ±đđŠ đźđŠđźđŁđŠđłđŽ đŒ đđž Bf!Ateez Texts - @littlexbunni ot8 x reader (texts) đđž đ Case: It's You [Book One] [Book Two] - @potatomountain detective!poly!ot8 x detective!reader (series) đ đđž Comfort Texts - @srslyscary ot8 x reader (texts) đđž đ Compromise - @cyberpxnk bf!seonghwa x reader x soccer player!yunho (one-shot) đ đ DĂ©filĂ© De Lingerie - @/bro-atz lingerie designer!san x lingerie model!reader x lingerie tailor!mingi (one-shot) đ đŒ đŹđȘđź đ©đ°đŻđšđ«đ°đ°đŻđš đŒ đ Deal With The Devil - @hoeforalbedo priest!hongjoong x reader (series) đ đđž Destiny - @k-zuzu idol!hongjoong x idol!reader (one-shot) đđž đ Do Not Touch - @bandgie death!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Duck Curtains - @ichorai roommate!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) đđž đ Enough - @mingsolo idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) đ đŒ đ±đąđłđŹ đŽđŠđ°đŻđšđ©đžđą đŒ đ Essence - @whatudowhennooneseesyou siren!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Gently Giant - @jagibangbangchan whale mershark!seonghwa x mermaid!reader ft.pirate!ateez (one-shot) đđž đ Got A Fur Coat, So I Make It Purr - @velvetydream idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Just A Few More Minutes - @skrrts stay-at-home dad!seonghwa x mom!reader (drabble) đđž đ Know Your Place - @xosannie idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) đ đŒ đ«đŠđ°đŻđš đșđ¶đŻđ©đ° đŒ đ Early Bird Gets The Worm - @ja3hwa bf!yunho x gf!reader (one-shot) đ đđž Emotion Verte - @altxrrmelancholy bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) đđž đ Hail To The King - @sweetinsaniiity king!yunho x ex-princess!reader (one-shot) đ đ Head Empty, Mouth Full - @xosannie bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Lesson Plans - @callmeagardengnome professor!yunho x teaching assistant!reader (one-shot) đđž
đŒ đŹđąđŻđš đșđŠđ°đŽđąđŻđš đŒ đ Perfect Opportunity - @mingi-s-dimples bf!idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Princess Fluffy-Cupcake-Sparkles - @seonghw4ffles non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Never Yours - @daceydeath idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) đđž đ Riding The Heat - @xomakara alpha!idol!yeosang x omega!reader (one-shot) đ đ Sleepy Head - @sugawhaaa bf!yeosang x gf!reader (one-shot) đ đŒ đ€đ©đ°đȘ đŽđąđŻ đŒ đ Diet Pepsi - @loserlvrss bf!san x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Dream Come True - @makeitmingi dad!idol!san x mom!reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Facade Of Perfection [Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] - @koyagifs ceo!san x reader (three parts) đđž đ Guilty Pleasure | Follow You - @orshii priest!san x reader (two-parts) đ đ Handy - @hausofwoo maintenance man!san x tenant!reader (one-shot) đ đŒ đŽđ°đŻđš đźđȘđŻđšđȘ đŒ đđž Good Morning - @yuyusshinelight dad!husband!idol!mingi x mom!wife!reader (one-shot) đđž đ Happy Birthday to Us - @freyaphoria yandere!mingi x reader (one-shot) đ đ Heat Stroke - @sluttywonwoo bf!mingi x reader (one-shot) đ đđž His ChĂ©rie - @xuchiya idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Lip Gloss - @loserlvrss friend!mingi x reader (drabble) đđž đŒ đ«đ¶đŻđš đžđ°đ°đșđ°đ¶đŻđš đŒ đ Day Off - @cyberseong bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) đ đ DĂ©colletage - @daddyfordaeddy servant!wooyoung x lady!reader (one-shot) đ đđž Don't Save Her (She Don't Wanna Be Saved) - @lunardragon00 peasant!wooyoung x princess!reader (series) đđž đ Forbidden Fruit - @astrasng idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Fractured Promises - @koyagifs ceo!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) đđž đŒ đ€đ©đ°đȘ đ«đ°đŻđšđ©đ° đŒ đ Screeching Tires and Blood Stains - @daceydeath mafia!jongho x reader (one-shot) đ đ Second Chance at Love - @xomakara single dad!widow!jongho x nanny!reader (one-shot) đ đđž Secretary Jongho Headcanon - @rems-writing secretary!jongho Ă ceo!reader (headcanon) đđž đđž Sneaky - @hwallazia ceo!jongho x office worker!reader (drabble) đđž đđž Stars - @beenbaanbuun bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) đđž
I love this series so for and I canât wait to read more! <3
Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemptionâreborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.4K Warnings: mingi being a mean brat, puppy antics, swearing, hints of infidelity, slight angst
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A hollow laugh escaped Mingi as he sped through the empty streets, the night blurring around him. The bitter sound echoed in the car, mirroring the anger swirling inside him. He could still see the look on your face, that fierce, unyielding defiance in your eyes as youâd confronted him without a trace of hesitation.
"Maybe you should have fought harder against your parents instead of just rolling over every time they threw you a command. Including this marriage.â
You hadnât raised your voice, hadnât even looked angry. But the certainty in your words had cut deeper than anything he could remember. Youâd said it so effortlessly, without a shred of remorse or regret, like you hadnât given his ego a second thought.
And it infuriated him.Â
Mingi was accustomed to people bending to his will, not challenging it. His life had always been cushioned by entitlement; his familyâs wealth and influence ensured that. People smiled, nodded, and let him have his wayâwhether it was his colleagues, teachers, or anyone who understood the weight of the Song name. When he wanted something, he got it; when he didn't want something, someone else made it disappear. Life was simple, easy. Predictable.
Heâd assumed youâd be no different. The arrangement your parents had orchestrated was supposed to be convenient, uncomplicated. Youâd go along with it quietly, play your part, and leave him to live as he pleased.
But heâd been wrong. Terribly, wrong.
From the moment you entered his life, you were a force to be reckoned withâunyielding and resolute, unafraid to show how little you cared for the life planned for you.Â
News of your attempted escape had reached him before he even saw you. Youâd made it as far as the airport, ticket in hand, your heart set on a life free from the restraints of duty. But then, your parents intervened, having anticipated your plans. Theyâd sent the authorities to intercept you at the gate, dragging you back home just as freedom was within reach.
You argued, you bargained, and you did everything short of bolting a second time as they walked you into that boardroom on your wedding day. Mingi had been there, watching as you approached, and even in that moment, youâd made it clear through your narrowed gaze and rigid posture that you were entering this marriage under protest.
Though you resisted the marriage and all it represented, you held a deep sense of empathy for him, understanding that he too was bound by this fate. Your efforts to extend an olive branch and build some semblance of a friendship, only served as a reminder of how deeply entangled your lives had become against his will.
And Mingi always made it clear that no matter how much you tried to extend kindness or bridge the distance, he was set on tearing it down.
When your parents organized a small birthday dinner for you, Mingi didnât even bother to show. He didnât call, didnât textâhe simply forgot. The sting of his absence felt like a gut punch, even if it was hardly surprising. His indifference when you mentioned it later was almost worse.Â
âOh, I didnât realize,â he shrugged, barely glancing up from his phone, his tone cool, unaffected. The casual dismissal in his voice, the complete lack of apology, was almost worse than his absence itself.Â
The implication was clear: your birthday, and by extension, you, were not significant enough to be remembered.
It wasnât until later, when meeting your cousin Jongho for lunch, that the truth hit even harder. Apparently, heâd heard from a friend of a friend that Ahri had posted on social media about her âspontaneous Tokyo getawayâ with Mingi, complete with photos of their cozy seats on a private plane and playful captions flaunting their lavish trip.Â
Then, there was the night San hosted his charity art auction, one of the biggest events of the year. It was the kind of evening meant to bring people together for a good cause, filled with artists and patrons, all of them dedicated to supporting the community.Â
But Mingi had a different idea in mind. He arrived with Ahri, both of them looking effortlessly stunning and either blissfully unaware or fully conscious of the painful message they conveyed. Your in-laws were mortified, apologizing to you profusely, trying to smooth over the spectacle their son had created.
âWhen will you grow up and stop making a mockery of our family?â Mr. Song fumed through gritted teeth.Â
"I thought we had a deal," Mingi replied coldly. "All I had to do was agree to this arrangement, and I could still have Ahri and live my life however I wanted."
Mr. Songâs face tightened with rage, his voice a low growl as he struggled to keep it down.Â
âWhat I meant, Mingi, was for you to show some tact! Not to flaunt Ahri around and humiliate your spouse in front of everyone. Itâs childish, and it reflects poorly on you. The least you can do is respect Y/N!â
âRespect Y/N?â Mingi scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. âRespecting her would mean pretending itâs something real. But we all know why this is happeningâmore money and more power for you. None of this has anything to do with me or what I want.â
âYou may resent it, but you are benefiting from it all the same. And that means you owe Y/N some basic decency, if nothing else.â
âThis arrangement took my choices away. It trapped me in a life I never wanted. And now youâre telling me to be grateful for it? To pretend that this marriage means something to me?â
âWhen will you stop being selfish and think about others for once? Consider that Y/N never asked for this either.â
As if disregarding you in private wasnât enough, Mingi took every chance to publicly humiliate you, constantly reminding you of your placeâalways on the outside, looking in.
The situation reached a boiling point at last yearâs Gold Gala when he arrived completely drunk, blatantly reinforcing that your feelings and the event's social grace meant nothing to him.
As he staggered through the hall, his laugh rang out too loudly, drawing stares from guests who exchanged uncomfortable glances. His gestures grew more careless and exaggerated with every passing moment, completely oblivious to the hurt on your face, tainting one of the most important nights of your life.
âNo, Iâm not much into charityâthough I guess marrying Ms. Choi counts.â
âIâm not here to support her, she begged me to be here. Begged me to care. Pathetic, right?â
By the time you arrived home, the tension was suffocating. You could still feel the embarrassment, lingering on you like a second skin you couldnât escape.
âDonât kid yourself into thinking this arrangement means anything. You're nobody to me.â
"Of course I know that!â The words flew out before you could stop yourself, raw and jagged. âAll I asked was for you to be there because this event meant everything to me. Everything!"Â
"I thought we could at least be civil, Mingi.â
âCivil?â He raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with disdain. "Youâre so desperate to play house, to fool yourself into thinking Iâll somehow feel something for you? By begging for it?"Â
His gaze was cold, dismissive, as if you were nothing more than a stranger who had intruded into his life, uninvited.
Your jaw dropped at the sheer audacity of his words. Who was this pompous prick, standing here acting as if youâd imposed your existence on him? The last thread holding your patience snapped, and before you knew it, a dry, humorless laugh escaped you.
âFeel something?â you spat, unable to hold back the fury building in your chest.Â
âDonât delude yourself into thinking youâre a catch either. Think whatever you want,â you shot back, your voice sharp and unwavering, âbut Iâm not the one who needs someone else to validate my worth!â
He blinked, momentarily stunned, his expression shifting as he tried to brush off your words with a sneer. But you could tell that something youâd said had struck a nerve.
âYouâve never cared about anything, Mingi. You donât even know what it means to care about someone or somethingâbecause youâve always had everything handed to you. Thereâs nothing thatâs ever been meaningful to you because youâve never had to fight for it!â
It infuriated Mingiâthe way you exposed all the things he hated most about himself, holding a mirror up to the person he tried so hard to ignore. And that was something he couldnât allow. He needed to keep you at a distance, to shut you down.Â
Because if he didn't, he feared you might penetrate his defenses entirelyâand he couldn't risk that.
As he sat in the warm, soapy water, Mingiâs tiny paws barely poked out from beneath a cloud of bubbles. He lifted a paw, watching droplets fall into the water, creating soft ripples that lapped against his sides. It was surreal. He had once scoffed at the very idea of being anything less than in control, of ever letting himself be so openlyâŠhelpless.
Everything looked bigger, more intimidating from down here and he felt smaller, more than he ever had.
Your gentle laughter pulled him back as you poured a bit more soap into the bath, sending a fresh wave of bubbles his way. You dipped your hand into the water, playfully scooping up the suds and sprinkling them over his head.Â
He wiggled, instinctively shaking his head as the bubbles landed, but they clung stubbornly to his nose and ears, making him sneeze. The tiny sneeze seemed to amuse you even more, your laughter ringing out, warm and unguarded.
âWeâll find something for you to eat after this. Do you like chicken?â you cooed, your voice warm and sweet as you continued fussing over him. âThat reminds me, we need to stop by the pet store.â
Mingi blinked up at you, the sound of your voice oddly comforting, even as it filled him with a peculiar ache he didnât quite know what to do with. Here you were, utterly unaware that this tiny, scruffy puppy was your own husband, yet you treated him with a care and tenderness he felt he didn't deserve.
âI should probably think of a name for you,â you murmured thoughtfully, rinsing away the last bits of sudsy bubbles.Â
His little face scrunched up as he shook his head, sending droplets flying. You grabbed the softest towel, bundling him up so that only his nose and eyes peeked out. Placing him on the bathroom counter, you noticed how his tiny body almost disappeared within the towelâs folds, leaving just a pair of adoring eyes staring up at you.
âYouâre so tiny, you might get blown away!â you teased, testing the warmth of the hair dryer on your wrist. His expression turned into the cutest scowl imaginable, as if he was about to bark out a protest.
Iâm not little! Mingi gritted, scrunching his tiny brows and squirming as if to show you he was tougher than he looked. He let out a bark, to prove you wrong.
âAlright, sorry, I didnât mean it,â you giggled.Â
You began to gently dry him, moving the warm air over his fur. His eyelids started to droop, each puff of warm air lulling him into a sleepy daze.Â
âPom Pomâs a cute name. What do you think?â you mused with a laugh, scratching him behind his tiny ear. Mingi managed to huff out a small whimper in protest in an attempt to communicate that you certainly were not to call him by that name.Â
âFine, fine. How aboutâŠMaro? Youâre white and fluffy like a marshmallow?â You tilted your head, smiling as you gently tapped the tip of his nose.
Mingi grumbled, feeling his pride melt under the sheer humiliation, but he went along with the name. Despite his desire to resist, he couldnât deny the comfort of being doted onâeven if it meant accepting his temporary fate as your âMaro.â
Mingi stirred awake, feeling an unfamiliar warmth against his tiny body, the soft texture of grass beneath him. Blinking his eyes open, he was met with a new worldâeverything wasâŠbigger. The trees stretched toward the sky, and the distant hum of city life felt overwhelming. Disoriented, he tried to make sense of his surroundings, his mind struggling to adjust to this small, delicate form.
Everything smelled sharper, richer: the earthy scent of wet grass, a faint whiff of antiseptic, andâŠsomething achingly familiar, pulling him forward as if his paws moved on their own accord.
Guided by the scent, he scrambled over roots and pushed through damp bushes, his little body squeezing through the brambles. As he finally emerged on the other side, he froze. Just a few feet away, sitting alone on a bench, was the source of the familiar scentâY/N?
His wife sat there, hands clasped tightly, her gaze distant and tired, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. But just as he took another small step forward, her eyes lifted and fell upon him. Her expression brightened, and the faintest hint of a smile warmed her face as she crouched down, reaching out to him.
âPuppy!â she gasped with an excitement that Mingi could feel down to his little paws. She beckoned him closer, and he trotted toward her, heart racing, wondering if somehow, even in this form, she could recognize him.
You held him close as you left the hospital, your hand gently supporting his back as he rested against your chest. Once you reached the car, you eased into the driverâs seat and settled him in your lap, feeling his soft fur beneath your fingers as you stroked him reassuringly.
Pulling your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your contacts until you reached your mother-in-lawâs number. Taking a steadying breath, you hit the call button, hoping sheâd understand your exit.
"Hello? Everything alright, Y/N?"
âI just wanted to let you know Iâm heading home,â you replied, keeping your tone light. âThere are a few things I need to take care of, but Iâll make sure to call later to check in.â
There was a brief pause on her end before she answered, âOf course, dear. Take your time, Iâll talk to you later.â
As you ended the call, Mingi blinked up at you, feeling strangely vulnerable in your arms. Being held and cherished like this was both comforting and overwhelming, a rare moment of intimacy that left him feeling exposed. The realization that someone could care for him so deeply stirred something inside himâa reminder of just how unfamiliar this feeling was, and how unsettling it felt to let someone in.
âReady to go home?â
On the drive back, you hummed a quiet tune, the same one you always sang absentmindedly when you thought no one was listening. As he nestled into your lap, he felt himself relax, leaving behind a sense of peace he hadnât felt in ages.
The bell above the pet store door jingled as you stepped inside, your eyes scanning aisles lined with every kind of pet accessory imaginable.
You wandered the aisles in a daze as Mingi, in his puppy form, bounced excitedly, his tiny tail whipping back and forth with unrestrained enthusiasm. His instincts urged him to sniff and mouth every item you tossed into the cartâtoys, treats, leashes, a bed, and a sweater.
For a moment, you couldnât help but feel a sense of disbeliefâshopping for puppy supplies while your husbandâs life was hanging by a thread was surreal.
âYour puppyâs really cute.â
You turned to see a man holding onto the leash of a doberman that looked every bit as sharp as its owner. The dog sat obediently by his side, dark eyes focused and alert, muscles taut beneath its sleek coat. The manâs presence was striking, especially with his stoic demeanor that made him appear almost statuesque.
âThanks!â you nodded, smiling. âHeâs really sweet, even if heâs got a bit of an attitude.â Your eyes drifted to the gentle way his hand stroked between the dobermanâs ears.Â
âYou look like you know what youâre doing, though.â
The man chuckled. âThanks, heâs actually my first dog. I adopted him when his previous owner passed away. His name is Hetmon.â
Your expression softened. âIâm so sorry to hear that,â you replied sympathetically, kneeling down to greet him.Â
âCan I say hi?â you asked, extending your hand for Hetmon to sniff.
The dobermanâs wet nose pressed against your palm, and he let out a soft huff before nuzzling his head into your hand. You laughed, scratching him behind his ear, marveling at his calm and steady temperament.Â
Now, hold on! Mingiâs eyes snapped up as he watched you fawning over this strangerâs dog. His little heart thudded, an unfamiliar surge of irritation bubbling up inside him.Â
Why are you smiling like that? Why are you speaking to another man? Get away from him!
He let out a little growl, then puffed up his tiny chest and erupted into a string of yappy barks, standing tall on his hind legs in the cart. His little nose scrunched up as he tried to look intimidating, but it was more endearing than anything else. You glanced over, bemused, as he glowered with all the fierceness his tiny form could muster.
âI think your puppy is upset,â the man pointed out with a chuckle.
âAww, donât worry, Maro,â you cooed, âyouâre still my favorite.âÂ
You scooped him up, planting a kiss right between his ears, which sent his little tail wagging against his will. You set him down gently on the floor, letting him meet Hetmon face-to-face. Mingiâs bravado wavered slightly as he looked up at the towering Doberman, but he squared his tiny shoulders, refusing to back down.
âIs Hetmon good with other dogs?â you asked, watching them carefully.
âOh, yeah. Heâs a total softie,â the man reassured you. âHe may look tough, but he loves making new friends.â
As if on cue, Hetmon dipped into a playful bow. Mingi froze, watching the giant dog before him as he lowered his head in an exaggerated invitation to play. For a moment, the puppy tried to keep his air of superiority, giving a tiny huff as if he wasnât the least bit interested.
But then he gave a low, friendly woof and Mingiâs puppy instincts kicked in. He took a tentative step forward, then another, his own tail starting to sway. Before he knew it, he pounced forward with his little paws outstretched, mimicking Hetmonâs play bow.
âMaro, you made a friend!â you cheered, watching in delight as the puppy bounced around with the older dog. Pulling out your phone, you couldnât resist capturing the moment, captivated by the unlikely friendship forming before you.
âLooks like opposites attract,â Hetmonâs owner mused as he watched the two dogs circle each other, darting forward and bouncing back and forth.
âIâm Yeosang, by the way,â he added, turning to you with a friendly smile.
âY/N,â you replied. âNice to meet you. Do you live around here?â
âYeah, actually, just a couple of streets over,â Yeosang said with a nod. He looked down at Hetmon, who was now reclining on his back, seemingly unfazed by the puppy climbing on him.Â
âWhat about you?â
You smiled, watching the scene with amusement. âSame. Maroâs also my first dog, so Iâve been figuring things out as I go.â
Yeosangâs expression softened, his smile encouraging. âI remember that feeling. Itâs a little overwhelming at first, but you get the hang of it. If you ever need any advice or a friendly ear, just reach out. Thereâs a park nearby thatâs dog-friendly. I usually go there in the mornings if youâd like to join sometime.â
âIâd really like that. Thanks.â
Yeosang's easygoing grin faltered as he felt a tug at his shoelace. He looked down to see the tiny pup gnawing determinedly, jaws snapping at the string.
How dare you speak to her so casually! Sheâs a married woman! Mingi seethed internally, giving the string another sharp tug. Why did it bother him so much to see Yeosang chatting with you? He hadn't cared much about you before, but seeing you smile at another man so naturally baffled him.
What is wrong with me? He let out a low growlâthough intended to be intimidatingâwould have been menacing if he werenât so tiny. Right now, all he wanted was for Yeosang to take a step back, to stop talking to you like you belonged to anyone else but himâeven though he couldn't say why.
âMaro, what are you up to?â you laughed, crouching down to pick him up. You slipped your hands beneath his belly, lifting him gently. But Mingi wasnât done making his point.Â
Nestled in your arms, Mingi twisted slightly, nudging your left hand insistently with his head. He pressed his nose right against your ring, his puppy eyes wide with urgency.Â
See this? Sheâs taken! He gave a little huff and looked back at Yeosang with the tiniest scowl he could manage.
Yeosang, oblivious to the true intentions behind the pupâs actions, chuckled softly. âLooks like heâs tired. Puppies need lots of sleep, you know.â
âSounds like someone needs a nap,â you agreed, gently setting the little ball of jealousy back into the cart.
"Oh, before I go," Yeosang continued, reaching into his pocket, "here's my number."
Mingiâs ears perked up, and his tail stopped wagging immediately. If he could talk, heâd be grumbling a thousand complaints. But instead, he glared up at Yeosang, hoping his intense puppy stare would get his message across: Back off.
â
The last twenty-four hours had been nothing short of a whirlwind: the accident, waking up in a completely different form, and now trying to adjust to this strange new reality. He was still Mingi, still aware of his responsibilities and tasks, but now he had to figure out how to accomplish themâŠas a puppy.
He padded around the penthouse, his tiny paws making soft clicks on the polished floor as he aimlessly wandered, bored out of his mind now that you were both back from the pet store. The excitement of the outing had quickly worn off, and now all he could do was sulk in the silence of the house.
His little tail swished back and forth as he circled the living room, kitchen, your piano, and the second floor of the penthouse. Finally, his gaze landed on the door to his room. A mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes, and with a determined wag of his tail, he marched toward it.
You paced around the living room, contemplating how to propose your idea to your mother-in-law: staying overnight once a week with Mingi. The thought of him spending nights alone in the suite, surrounded only by machines, unsettled you. He wasn't exactly your biggest fanâheâd made it clear where his heart truly lay, and it wasnât with you. Yet, the notion of someone always being there, watching over him, brought you a small measure of comfort amid the uncertainty.
As the worry gnawed at you, you knew you had to act. Taking a deep breath, you picked up the phone and dialed your mother-in-law.
âHello?â
âHi, itâs me,â you said, doing your best to sound composed. âI just got back from running errands and wanted to propose something.â
Her voice carried that usual guarded curiosity. âWhat are you suggesting?â
You respected your mother-in-lawâs loyalty to her family, even if her protectiveness sometimes blinded her to Mingiâs faults. She had always been gracious to you, maintaining a sense of decorum that made you feel welcome but not entirely at ease.Â
âI thought we could work out a schedule to stay overnight with Mingi at the hospital.â
There was a brief pause before she spoke, her voice carefully polite. âYouâre very thoughtful, dear,â she began, âbutâŠmaybe itâs not necessary to stay all night. The nurses are attentive, and they promised to call us if anything changes.â
You glanced around the penthouse, searching for Maro, who had slipped away at some point. The quiet absence of the dog only added to the heavy silence, making the place feel even emptier.
âI have full confidence in his care team,â you replied, forcing each word into a polite, measured tone.Â
âBut I think Mingi would feel more supported if someone were there with him, at least some of the time. I was thinking I could stay overnight once or twice a week? Just so he doesnât feelâŠforgotten.â
Mrs. Song paused just a moment, enough for you to feel that familiar flicker of hopeâmaybe sheâd feel the same worry, feel something for her son that went deeper than surface-level appearances.Â
But when she spoke, her words rang hollow. âAre you sure?â She hesitated, as if weighing how much emotion to offer before she could close herself off again. âI donât want you to burn yourself out.â
âIâm sure. And Iâll take care of myself, I promise,â you replied, careful to keep any bitterness out of your voice.
âItâs the least I can do.â
âWell, I suppose thereâs no one heâd be happier to see than you when he wakes up.â
You let the comment hang in the air, refraining from answering. The truth was far more complicatedâit wasnât about who Mingi wanted to see. It was about reminding him he wasnât completely abandoned, despite how much heâd tried to push you away.
Murmuring a quick goodbye, you ended the call and let out a breath you didnât realize youâd been holding, feeling a strange relief as the line clicked dead.
Standing in the quiet of the penthouse, you wondered how it was possible to care so deeply and feel so estranged at the same time. You exhaled slowly, taking a moment to let the frustration settle before setting off to find Maro, hoping the small presence of the dog might be the comfort you needed.
Mingi paused in front of the door, cocking his head and giving it a long, assessing look. The handle was far out of reach, far higher than any normal dog could ever hope to reach.Â
With a huff, he pressed his tiny front paws against the door, trying to push and pull with all his might. When that failed, he gave up entirely on the handle and decided on a new strategy: digging.
He squatted down, wiggling his little rear end before he thrust his paws forward in an exaggerated motion, trying to dig under the door. His tiny claws scrabbled uselessly at the polished floor, making little scratching noises that seemed comically futile against the sleek, smooth surface.
He stopped for a moment, eyes narrowing in concentration, before he gave it another goâthis time, with more vigor, his body wriggling in earnest as though the door might just give way if he showed it enough determination.
âMaro? What are you doing?â you asked, catching sight of the fluffball nosing determinedly at Mingiâs bedroom door.
He froze, glancing back at you with wide, innocent eyes, but his resolve didnât waver. He turned back to the door, his eyes narrowing as if silently pleading with it to just open.Â
You stifled a laugh at his antics. âSorry, baby boy, but that roomâs off limits.â
Your life with Mingi had been defined by boundariesâdrawn lines, quiet distances, and spaces kept respectfully separate. Separate rooms, separate lives, and a marriage in name only. The closed door was a boundary, one youâd both agreed to uphold.
But itâs my room! He insisted with a bark of protest, his frustration evident. He didnât want the carefully arranged, supposedly comfortable dog bed that sat innocently by the window. He wanted his own room, his own bed, and his own space.
âI donât think Mingi would appreciate it if I let you in there,â you added wistfully.
Mingi could sense something in your voiceâa sadness buried beneath your usual composed demeanor. His ears perked as he tilted his head, studying the way your shoulders slumped just slightly, the way your eyes lingered on the closed door before looking away.Â
In that moment, he recognized that despite the walls between you, you were still here, trying to make the best of a life shaped by distance.
Letting out a small, resigned huff, he slowly padded over to the dog bed by the window, casting one last longing look at the door. Then, in a dramatic display, he flopped onto his back with a sigh, his little paws stretching up into the air, his fluffy belly exposed, hoping it might coax even the smallest smile from you.
Mingi wasnât thrilled about giving up his room, but he figured if he could cheer you upâeven a littleâit was worth it. Because he knew, perhaps more than he wanted to admit, how lonely it must be for you, living in a world of closed doors.
"Thanks so much for meeting us here!" you greeted Yeosang warmly, handing him a cup of hot chocolate. His eyes lit up with a grateful smile as he accepted it, glancing down at Hetmon, who was already bouncing in place with excitement.
âNo worries at all! I did say Iâd be happy to answer any questions about dogs,â Yeosang replied, his gaze shifting to Maro, who sat at your feet, fixated on what would come next in your conversation.
You knelt down, scratching Maro gently behind his ears as the weight of your question settled in your chest. A tightness formed in your throat, and you hesitated, glancing up at Yeosang.
âActually, I was hoping to talk to you about somethingâŠa little more serious, if thatâs okay.â
Yeosangâs face softened, his usual bright energy shifting to a gentle calm as he took in your expression. His caring demeanor radiated warmth, an almost tangible reassurance that everything would be alright.Â
âOf course,â he replied, his voice soft but encouraging. âIâm here for whatever you need.â
You unhooked Mingi from the leash, giving him a gentle nudge forward. âGo on, Maro,â you encouraged, motioning toward Hetmon, who was practically vibrating, his tail whipping the air behind him like a propeller.
"Hey, do you wanna play chase?" Hetmon asked eagerly, prancing in a tight circle around Mingi.
"We can also play fetch! My dad brought my favorite ball!"
But Mingi sat firmly in place, his tiny body angled away from Hetmon, focused entirely on your conversation with Yeosang. He narrowed his eyes, stubbornly ignoring the playful advances. As far as he was concerned, Yeosangâs angelic demeanor deserved the highest level of suspicion.
âNo,â the puppy pouted, his voice stubborn and unmoving.
Undeterred, Hetmon scooted closer, nudging Mingiâs side with his nose. "Come on, just one game! Iâll even let you catch me!" He bounced in front of Mingi, crouching low in an exaggerated play bow, his tail wagging furiously.
Mingi huffed, his small body stiffening as he resisted the pull of Hetmonâs enthusiasm. He cast the doberman a sidelong glare that wouldâve been intimidatingâif he were anything bigger than a fluffball.
"No, I want to stay here," Mingi grumbled. "Your father is trying to hit on my wife."
Hetmon tilted his head, blinking with wide-eyed innocence. "That canât be your wife; sheâs not a dog. Sheâs your mom."
Mingiâs tiny temper flared, but he reminded himself he was dealing with someone with the mental equivalent of a toddler.
"Look, I donât expect you to understand, but sheâs my wife. If I tell you what happened, would you leave me alone?"
Hetmon sat back, pausing thoughtfully, his tail still wagging. "Okay, Iâll listen!â
Mingi sighed, rolling his eyes as if explaining was a chore. "Alright, so before I got...uh, transformed," he said, waving a paw at his small, fluffy body with obvious disdain,Â
"I was married to Y/N. Then I got into a car accident."
Hetmonâs eyes went wide with awe, tail wagging in anticipation. "So⊠you died and became a dog?"
"No!" Mingi barked, his chest puffed. "I was transformed into one because I did bad things.â The words came out quietly, almost like a confession, and he glanced away, embarrassed.Â
âI have three months to complete three tasks, or else Iâm stuck like this⊠forever."
Hetmon tilted his head, his big eyes full of innocent curiosity as he tried to wrap his mind around Mingiâs words. He watched Mingi for a moment, then his tail gave a tentative wag.
âWhat do you have to do? Can I help?â Hetmon asked eagerly.Â
âMy dad says we always have to help friends!â
Friends. The word stung more than Mingi expected, a sudden reminder of how few people he truly trusted or felt close to. Yunho was really his only friend, the one person he could count on without question.Â
He shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts drifting to the tight circle of people he called acquaintances: the other Choiâs, the son of Park Enterprises⊠all hand-picked connections meant to strengthen his familyâs standing, but none of those relationships had ever felt genuine.Â
Had he done this on purpose? Had he pushed people away to keep himself safe, to avoid the risk of betrayal or disappointment? Maybe heâd chosen solitude to protect himself from the sting of being left behindâbut he hadnât expected it to feel so empty now, as he sat here realizing that even a dog like Hetmon was willing to reach out with kindness.
âOkay, well...I guess,â Mingi sighed.Â
You swallowed hard, fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup as you fought to steady yourself. The sunlight hit your wedding ring, casting a soft glow over the diamondsâa gleaming, constant reminder of the life you were bound to. In a way, it felt more like a chain. Taking a deep breath, you chose your words carefully.Â
âMyâŠhusband was in a really bad car wreck the other night. Heâs in a coma right now,â you said, the words thick and heavy, as if each one were being forced out.Â
The reality of it all settled in the air between you and Yeosang, and you could feel his compassion in the way he listened to you. His brow creased with concern as he took in your words, his quiet presence urging you to press on.
âIâve made arrangements to spend at least one night a week at the hospital,â you continued, forcing yourself to look down at your cup rather than meet his eyes.Â
âItâs hard to explain, but I guess I donât want him to beâŠalone, even if he canât really tell.â
Your voice trailed off as a feeling of helplessness welled up within you. You wanted to believe that Mingi could somehow sense your presence, that maybe your being there would make even a small difference. But at the same time, you couldnât shake the nagging feeling that your visits might mean more to you than they did to him.
âIâm sorry, Y/N. Thatâs a lot to carry. I canât imagine how difficult this must be for you. But youâre doing your best to be there for him, even when itâs painful.â
You felt a slight relief in his understanding, in the way he didnât try to offer empty reassurances. âThank you,â you whispered, feeling the weight of Yeosangâs empathy.Â
âI also donât mean to impose butâŠwould you mind letting Maro stay over just one night a week? Until I figure things out?â you asked sheepishly. âHeâs still so little, and I donât want him to feel abandoned while Iâm gone.â
âOf course, Y/N, don't feel bad for asking!â Yeosang nodded enthusiastically.
âMaro will be in great hands, I promise. I know Hetmon would love having him over! Itâll be likeâŠboys' night, and I can build a fort for them, we can eat snacksâŠâ
Yeosangâs eyes sparkled with genuine excitement as he spoke, his infectious energy making you smile despite your concerns. He had a knack for making the most mundane plans sound like grand adventures, and his lighthearted spirit was always a comforting presence.
The unexpected kindness caught you off guard, causing your shoulders to relax.
âReally?â you murmured, struggling to believe that someone truly understood and wanted to help in such a straightforward yet meaningful way.
âYou're dealing with so much right now. I'm glad to help, even if it's small.â For a moment, you felt a lump rise in your throat, the weight of his words grounding you in a world that often felt chaotic and uncertain.
âYou donât have to face all this on your own,â Yeosang added, his words carrying a depth that felt like a lifeline.Â
Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Hetmon barreling across the grassy field, with Maro bounding right behind him as they zig-zagged through the park. The sight of the two playing together made you smile.
âHetmon, come have some water!â Yeosang called out.Â
The dobermanâs ears perked up, and he shifted course, galloping toward his owner, excited for his water break. Maro, bounded after him, and hopped up onto your lap, nuzzling into your arms.
âMaro, guess what! Youâre going to have a sleepover with Hetmon!â you announced, patting him gently. The words slipped out with casual enthusiasm, thinking itâd be fun for him to spend a night with someone whoâs growing so fond of him.
What!?
Mingiâs gaze darted from you to Yeosang, then to Hetmon, who was still wagging his tail, blissfully unaware of the turmoil stirring inside him.
Despite his best efforts to stay aloof and independent, he had come to rely on your presenceâthe warmth, the comfort, and the steady sense of grounding you brought to his strange new world. The thought of being without that, even for just a night, filled him with something he was unwilling to admit to himself: fear.
<< i | iii >>
a/n: ughhh my taglist is ugly, I can't tag more than 5 blogs to a line now, so forgive me for the formatting
taglist: @syubseokie @koyagifs @sunnysidesins @thedistractedwriter @notevenheretbh1
@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00
@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24
@desi2go @beabatiny @sangilov-r @roomsofangel @symmieangela
@dumplingsyum @etaerealboy @fairylover68 @foxinnie8
@yoonrixx @jean-swolo @silent-potato @jiwoongsblondehair @sanriomilk
@sanniesbum
Ahhhhh, I love it! I love it! I love it! Iâm just smiling at my phone over words, but it just so sweet!
Iâm now craving some italian.
Hi, congrats on 300 followers. I have a prompt request for the celebration. I would like to request a one-shot of jongseob with the prompt from sweet "smiling during kisses".
I would also like to add that the reader be gender neutral. congratulations again on 300 followers! đ
hihi! thank you so much for participating, and sorry for the late, hope you like it <3 ; 1k wc ; fluff ; first time writing for soeb aaaa ; and credits to my fav proofreader @sobun1est
300 followers event đ
You notice the light of the candles as soon as you open the door of your house, taking the first step inside your apartment.
âIâm home!â you said.
Shortly after, called by your voice, you noticed Jongseob coming out of his room to come and welcome you.
That day was your anniversary; one year had passed since you had confessed your tender love and the "roommate" label had turned into lovers. You had just returned from the small pastry shop where you worked in the afternoons to save up for your studies, and with you, you had a large plastic bag containing your boyfriendâs favorite cake.
Although neither of you was swimming in gold, you were happy with your flat. So you gradually decorated it and created a small home with all the amenities you could want.
âWelcome back, honeyâ he said to you, coming closer to steal a kiss from you and helping with the bags.
While he went to put the cake in the refrigerator you moved towards the small room, from where a soft light came.
As soon as you entered, you noticed that many candles were placed throughout the room, and in the center, there was a carefully set table. The window was wide open, and the view was of the city illuminated by the few lights of the night.
On the table there were two glasses, and next to them a bottle of your favorite wine. The plates had light red and gold decorations, and the tablecloth and napkins followed that theme.
There was also your record player, who carefully selected the records that had accompanied your evenings throughout that year.
âDo you remember our first date?â the boy asked you as he entered the room.
âWhen we shared pizza, sitting on this sofa while we tried to guess about the lives of the passers-by under this balcony? How could I forget?â you asked him.
He nodded and moved in your direction, seemingly unable to resist his desire to be by you.
He took your face in his hands and soon joined your lips in a long kiss.
âHow about we create a remix, maybe with a slight upgrade?â he asked you, looking you directly in the eyes.
âI would love it,â he replied, smiling.
Everything at that moment brought back memories of the first date, when after a year of living together, since you attended the same university, that boy had come forward to ask you to be together.
âHappy anniversary Seobâ
âYou too, loveâ he replied.
During your first date, while you were waiting for the food to come, the two of you sat on the couch. You could only gaze lovingly at Jongseob's slim physique as he was focused on the task at handâhe had stood up to begin the vinyl recordings.
During the first date, you were waiting for the pizza to be delivered, while now you were waiting for the lasagna - entirely cooked by Jongseob - to cook in the oven!
You had once expressed how much you would have liked to taste Italian food, so that's why he chose it for dinner.
He had carefully chosen the order of the music records to listen to, as he had presented them to you during your year together.
To ensure that everything looked its best in your eyes, he had even asked his mother to lend him some of the dish set that she had used for her wedding.
He had discovered your favorite flavor in candles, and in his pocket, he had a crumpled piece of paper with a short poem that he wanted to recite to you.
Now he was sitting next to you on the couch and was following the moves of the first date step by step. He had counted how many times your eyes had crossed, but like the first time, he had gotten lost in your eyes and had opted for a more direct approach.
He had turned to you while you were watching him the whole time - noticing how his face was bright and how he had changed in a year. You vividly remembered all the features of his face and how his expression had gone from full concentration to complete disorientation as soon as he had looked at you.
And now everything was happening again: your eyes had met, and the butterflies in your stomach had started to dance.
He had soon come dangerously close and had canceled the distances. Neither of you could hold back a smile, remembering your first kiss while you were living the umpteenth. Many quick kisses alternated with passionate ones while your bodies also got closer.
You took a brief break to let out some lovely laughs that blended in with the background music like they were the melody itself.
Smiles between the kisses, comforting scents, and the warmth of the bodies that united.
He had moved his hand from behind your neck to your hips- oh how he had become bolder.
You were facing him and found it difficult to keep your eyes closed, so now and again when he drew you away, you gave him a tiny peek.
You loved so much seeing that boy's face up close.
With an awkward and hesitant smile, he looked so attractive with the candles lighting him.
The first time you had been interrupted by the arrival of the delivery boy, while this time by a strange burning smell that began to spread from the kitchen.
As soon as it hit your boyfriend's nostrils, his eyes widened and he suddenly stood up.
"THE LASAGNA!" he said as he ran towards the kitchen.
You giggled as you moved to go and check it out too.
As soon as you arrived in the kitchen you saw him wearing two pink skates and an apron of the same color, as he took the lasagna out of the oven. He hadn't even taken the time to turn on the light, the light of the candles was enough; but he had chosen to wear the apron to avoid dirtying the outfit he had worked on to impress you.
Luckily the lasagna wasnât burnt, but on the contrary, it had acquired a light crunchy crust that had made that dish even better.
You found yourselves shortly after at the table, savoring that delicious food while you remembered the times gone by, shared moments of the present, and fantasized about future experiences.
đŒ đđ”đŠđŠđ» đđȘđ€ đđŠđ€đ°đźđźđŠđŻđ„đąđ”đȘđ°đŻđŽ đđ±.đđ°đ¶đł! đŒ đ đđąđ”đ¶đłđŠ đđ©đŠđźđŠđŽ đ đŒ đđȘđŻđ°đłđŽ/đđšđŠđđŠđŽđŽ/đđđąđŻđŹ đđđ°đšđŽ đ„đ°đŻ'đ” đȘđŻđ”đŠđłđąđ€đ” đ°đł đșđ°đ¶ đžđȘđđ đŁđŠ đŁđđ°đ€đŹđŠđ„ đŒ đŒ đ°đ”8/đźđ¶đđ”đȘđ±đđŠ đźđŠđźđŁđŠđłđŽ đŒ đđž A Cup Of Care - @woncon poly!woosan x reader (one-shot) đđž đ Ad Astra per Aspera - @alxtiny pirate!ot8 x navigator!reader (series) đ đđž Ateez as Disney Princes - @edenesth disney prince!ot8 x disney princess!reader (scenarios) đđž đđž Ateez Meeting Single Mom Reader [Part One] [Part Two] - @reallychaoticwoo ot8 x single mom!reader (scenarios) đđž đđž Ateez When Their S/o Gives Them Cuteness Aggression - @elllisaaa ot8 x reader (scenarios) đđž đŒ đŹđȘđź đ©đ°đŻđšđ«đ°đ°đŻđš đŒ đđž Anything You Could Do, I Could Do Better! - @pyeonghongrie teacher!hongjoong x teacher!reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Back Off! Iâm Married - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Behind Closed Doors - @domm1etae idol!hongjoong x idol!reader (one-shot) đđž đ Boy With The Pearl Necklace - @hongjoongtime117 idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Day & Night - @youngies-bae predebut!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) đđž đŒ đ±đąđłđŹ đŽđŠđ°đŻđšđ©đžđą đŒ đđž 16.51 - @itstheghostofmypast bf!university student!seonghwa x university student!reader (one-shot) đđž đđž [23.27] - @yizhou-time non-idol!seonghwa x reader (timestamp) đđž đ Beneath The Candlelight - @atzaurora bf!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Breakfast - @littlefireball bf!seonghwa x reader (drabble) đđž đ Dirty My Ride - @starminzoo rider!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) đ đŒ đ«đŠđ°đŻđš đșđ¶đŻđ©đ° đŒ đ Boyfriend - @notsoverymerry bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) đ đ Communion - @kitten4sannie priest!yunho x nun!reader (one-shot) đ đđž Did You Like Her In The Morning?, Yunho | Die With A Smile, Yunho - @halaboyz bf!yunho x reader (two povs) đđž đđž Donât Smile - @tyungelic ex!yunho x gn!reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Drunk - @sweetiesicheng non-idol!yunho x reader (drabble) đđž
đŒ đŹđąđŻđš đșđŠđ°đŽđąđŻđš đŒ đđž Behind The Eyes - @srslyscary non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Chicken Date - @augustbutwinter non-idol!yeosang x gn!reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Don't Forget About Me - @idyllic-ghost idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Fever - @beenbaanbuun bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) đđž đ Jenniferâs Body!Yeosang - @justaaveragereader jennifer!yeosang x reader (one-shot) đ đŒ đ€đ©đ°đȘ đŽđąđŻ đŒ đđž 3:03 am - @323cutie bf!san x reader (timestamp) đđž đđž Baby, Love Me Lights Out - @hongjoongspoetry idol!san x reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Choi San As Associate Professor - @melsvt associate professor!fiancee!san x reader (drabble) đđž đ Crimson - @hwaslayer non-idol!san x stripper!reader (one-shot) đ đđž Destined To Be A Girl Dad - @makeitmingi dad!san x mom!reader (one-shot) đđž đŒ đŽđ°đŻđš đźđȘđŻđšđȘ đŒ đđž 3:07am - @/cheryrri bf!mingi x reader (timestamp) đđž đ Broken Doll - @freyaphoria yandere!mingi x reader (one-shot) đ đ Cold Red Iron - @bvidzsoo iron man!mingi x secretary!reader (one-shot) đ đ Dinner Table - @mingi-s-dimples bf!non-idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Friends To Lovers With Mingi - @lxvemaze friend!idol!mingi x reader (texts) đđž đŒ đ«đ¶đŻđš đžđ°đ°đșđ°đ¶đŻđš đŒ đ Almost Home - @shadowkoo bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) đ đ Better Make This Quick - @xosannie non-idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) đ đ Craving The Storm - @atzaurora bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Crown Heist - @srslyscary thief!wooyoung x queen!reader (one-shot) đđž đđž Cyberpunk's Bartender - @rems-writing bartender!wooyoung x gn!reader (one-shot) đđž đŒ đ€đ©đ°đȘ đ«đ°đŻđšđ©đ° đŒ đ Back From The Dead - @essenteez vampire!jongho x reader (one-shot) đ đđž Finding Our Way Back - @03jyh23 ex-bf!idol!jongho x ex-gf!single-mom!reader (series) đđž đ Mr. CEO - @/milkandhwaney ceo!jongho x employee!reader (one-shot) đ đ My Comfort Is You - @crimsonbubble dilf!jongho x reader (drabble) đ đđž Punk Jongho Headcanon - @rems-writing punk!jongho Ă sweetheart!reader (headcanon) đđž
AYO FUCK MIKE, FUCK JINA, FUCK SEONGHWA, FUCK DANN, FUCK HONGJOONG, FUCK EVERYBODY, WE LOVE READER!
Iâve said this before, but dudeâŠwe have to kill Mike iâm so serious I need this man gone. Also I knew there was something up with Jina from the last chapter with the comment she made about reader.
I just need happiness for reader cause iâm losing it every time I see a new chapter posted. Iâm very much enjoying it as I say after every chapter. Keep up the amazing work! <3
ps. Itâs mostly likely because I donât read everything and jump straight into the story, but why did I just notice it says love triangle in genre.
Popular, Boy
â10: The first wound.
Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader
Genre: +18, smut, slow burn, drama, angst, love triangle.
wc: 8,2k
Summary: A night that was meant to go one way takes a devastating turn. Tension rise, lines are crossed, and for the first time...
Doubt begins to surface in unexpected places.
Warnings: Verbal abuse, physical violence, cursing, angst.... a lot of angst.
an: Request are open! Feel free to request whatever you like (I just don't accept mĂm requests)
Series masterlist Join the Taglist
â09 â11: The first truth. Coming soon
It had been days since Hongjoong and you had spoken. Your fight at the club still lingered in the air like an unshakable fog, thick with tension and unresolved emotions.
At school, you acted as though the other didnât exist, carefully avoiding eye contact, ignoring each otherâs presence, and pretending like your worlds hadnât once been intertwined.
Your friends noticed, but no one dared to bring it upânot when you were burying yourself in distractions, and not when Hongjoong looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
But today, Hongjoong decided to end it.
During his shift at the café, his boss, Mr. Choi patted him on the back, a rare smile breaking his usually stern face.
âYouâve been working hard, kid. Take tomorrow off. Get some rest.â
Hongjoong blinks in surprise. He had expected to push through another exhausting shift, but this?
This is an opportunity, a chance to set things right.
As soon as he gets to the back room, he pulls out his phone and hesitates for a second. His fingers hover over your name before he finally taps on it.
JoongieâĄ: Hey..
He stares at the screen, wondering if you would ignore him. The three little dots appear almost instantly, then vanish, then appear again.
YNâĄ: What?
Hongjoong exhales. Short, cold, distant. He deserves that.
JoongieâĄ: I donât like this. Us, being like this.
JoongieâĄ: Iâll explain everything. I swear.
JoongieâĄ: Let me make it up to you.
Another long pause. He can practically hear you scoffing at the message, debating whether you should even give him the time of day.
Then, finally you answer.
YNâĄ: Fine.
His heart lurches forward.
JoongieâĄ: Tomorrow. 7 PM. Iâll send you the address.
He searches for the perfect spot, something that isn't too extravagant but still special. A small, charming restaurant near the cityâs main street catches his attention.
It was warm, cozy, and has the kind of atmosphere that feels... personal.
Perfect for what he needs to say.
Jina, behind him, narrows her eyes to get a look of what he is doing. She can see the contact name 'YNâĄ,' and then he sends a link.
Is he going on a date with that girl?
Without doing a sound, she gets back to her task.
JoongieâĄ: Sent.
JoongieâĄ: See you there, pretty.
No response, but you had read the message. Hongjoong put his phone down, exhaling deeply.
Tomorrow, he will fix things. He has to.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
You stand in front of the mirror, carefully applying the finishing touches to your makeup over your bruised cheek. Your hands are steady, but inside, your heart is racing with anticipation.
Tonight, Hongjoong is finally going to explain everything. You had spent days drowning in frustration, confusion, and anger, but now, there is a chance to clear the air.
Tonight, everything will be fixed.
Tonight, Hongjoong would explain himself.
Tonight, he would tell you why he had been acting so distant, why he had been avoiding you after school, why he had refused to spend time with you.
He would make it up to you like he promised.
You adjust the delicate straps of your black dress, making sure everything is perfect. Your hair cascades over your shoulders in soft waves, and your lips are painted a deep shade of redâcovering perfectly your broken lipâmasking your vulnerability.
You take a step back, examining yourself with a critical eye. Stunning as always.
Hongjoong would see you and remember exactly why he had fought so hard to be with you.
Your phone buzzes on the vanity table. You grab it instantly, hoping it is Hongjoong confirming he is already there, waiting for you. But it is just a reminder from your driver.
With a sigh, you slip your phone into your designer purse and grab your coat. As you walk down the grand staircase of your home, you catch sight of Mike lounging in the living room, flipping through a magazine.
"Going somewhere?" He asks without looking up.
"Not that it's any of your business."
Mike smirks but doesn't push further. He simply leans back and watches as you disappear through the front door.
The car ride to the restaurant was quiet, giving you too much time to think.
Was Hongjoong nervous? Was that why he hadn't said much after sending you the address? You shook your head. No, tonight was about fixing things.
You wouldnât let doubt ruin it.
The restaurant Hongjoong had chosen is small but elegant, tucked away near the cityâs main street. Fairy lights hang across the windows, giving the place a warm, intimate glow. Itâs a charming spot, perfect for a conversation that had been long overdue.
You walk in, heels clicking against the polished floor as you approach the host.
"Reservation under Kim Hongjoong." You say smoothly.
The host checks his list and nods "Ah, yes. Right this way, miss."
You follow him to a cozy table by the window, the perfect spot to watch the cityâs nightlife unfold. You sit down, crossing your legs gracefully, and check your phone. No new messages.
You exhale, telling yourself that he would be here any second. You smooth out your napkin and glance at the entrance.
Your fingers tap against the polished wood, eyes flicking to the entrance every few seconds. Any moment now.
The waiter approaches âWould you like to order something while you wait?â
âIâll wait,â You reply, forcing a polite smile âHeâll be here soon.â
The minutes drag on. The candle in the middle of the table flickers, barely illuminating the growing void in your chest.
7:15 PM.
You check your phone. No messages.
7:35 PM.
Your throat feels tight. You type a quick text.
YNâĄ: Are you on your way?
Sent. No response.
7:50 PM.
Your nails dig into your palm. You try not to look at the couples around you, laughing, talking, and enjoying their meals together. You try not to feel humiliated.
8:15 PM.
He 's not coming.
You blink, pushing back the sting behind your eyes. No. This isnât happening, Hongjoong wouldnâtâhe wouldnât do this to you. Not after everything. Not after all the things he told you, the way he held you, the way heâ
Your phone buzzes.
Finally.
You grab it instantly, hope swelling in your chestâuntil you see the sender.
Seonghwa.
You hesitate, then open the message. It 's a photo.
Your eyes open in surprise.
Itâs Hongjoong.
Hongjoong in a different restaurant. Hugging a girl.
The image isnât blurry. It isnât vague.
They look comfortable, like he belongs there. Like this is his life, and you aren't in it.
Your chest caves in. The restaurant around you fades into nothing but muffle sounds and blurry lights.
Your phone slips from your fingers into the table, your vision blurry. A sharp inhale burns through your throat, but it doesn't bring any relief.
He⊠he really didnât come.
He left you waiting, and he was with someone else.
You stand abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. You donât care if people look. You donât care about anything.
You grab your purse, leaving behind the perfectly set table, the unlit candle, the untouched hope you had carried with you.
The ride home was silent.
You walk through the front door in a daze, your heels clicking against the marble floor. No one is around. Good.
You climb the stairs to your bedroom, locking the door behind you. The moment you turn around, the weight of it all comes crashing down.
You clench your fists, willing yourself to breathe, to not care, to be the unbothered YN everyone expects you to be.
But you canât.
Your knees give out.
And for the first time in years, you cry.
Not silent tears. Not a quiet sniffle.
You sob.
Your body curls in on itself, shaking, as raw, broken cries escape your lips. Your hands clutch at your dress, nails digging into the fabric as if holding into somethingâanythingâwould stop you from unraveling completely.
But there is nothing left to hold onto.
Hongjoong had taken everything.
The walls you had built. The pride you had carried. The belief that you could never be broken.
And yet, here you are.
Crying alone in the dark.
Like a fool.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
Hongjoog is just about to leave his house, dressed in his best clothes, nervous yet excited. He has finally got a day off, and this is his chance to make things right with you.
He checks his phone again, seeing your last message confirming their date, and a small smile tugs at his lips. After everything, he is determined to fix this.
Then, his phone buzzes.
Jina: Kim, I need your help. It's urgent. I'm at the café. Please, just for a second.
Hongjoong frowns. Jina rarely texts him outside of work, and the urgency in her message makes him hesitate. He glances at the timeâhe has enough to swing by quickly, help her out, and still make it to the restaurant on time.
Hongjoong: Whatâs wrong?
Jina: Just come. Please. I really need you.
Sighing, he pockets his phone and hurries toward the cafĂ©, telling himself it wouldnât take long.
When he arrives at the cafe, Jina is waiting outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, an unreadable smirk on her lips.
âI thought something bad happened,â Hongjoong says, a little breathless.
Jina puts on a fake worried face âIt did! Well, kind of. I locked myself out of the counter, and I left something really important inside. Youâre the only one I know who might figure out how to open it without causing a scene.â
Hongjoong exhales sharply, checking the time. He still has time.
âAlright.â
She leads him inside, making sure to keep her pace slow, stalling as much as possible. When they reach the storage room, she hands him a thin wire.
âI saw you mess with one of these before. Think you can do it?â
He takes the wire, focusing as he tries to get the lock open. His brows furrowed as he works, unaware that Jina has discreetly pulled out her phone, sending a quick text.
Jina: Heâs here. Keep watch.
Outside, a tall man leans casually against a lamppost near the café, watching through the window, waiting for the right moment.
Hongjoong is still working on the lock when Jina suddenly steps closer, pretending to peer over his shoulder. She tilts her head, letting her hair brush against him, positioning herself just right.
And then, right when she sees the man lift his phone, she leans in even more, her lips dangerously close to Hongjoongâs cheek.
âAlmost there,â The man mutters, oblivious to how it looks from the outside.
The lock finally gives in, and Hongjoong straightens up, triumphant.
âThere, itâs open.â
Jina beam âYouâre a lifesaver!â She says, throwing her arms around him in an exaggerated hug.
And just like that, flashâThe man captures the perfect shot. From the angle he took it, it looked exactly like they were sharing an intimate moment.
Hongjoong checks the time again and feels his stomach drop. He had stayed way longer than he meant to.
âShit, I have to go,â He says, pulling away from Jinaâs hold.
Jina pouts, but inwardly she is smirking âLeaving already? Come on, stay for a drink. Itâs not like youâre in a rush.â
âI am in a rush,â He snaps, already heading for the door.
Jina watches him go, waiting until he is far enough before pulling out her phone and sending a message.
Jina: Done. Heâs on his way, but I made sure heâs late.
The reply is instant.
Bastard Park: Perfect. Time to deliver the final blow.
With a satisfied smirk, he sends the picture to you.
And just like that, the trap is complete.
âź â
As soon as Hongjoong steps out of the cafĂ©, he pulls out his phone to check the timeâand his heart plummets.
It was way past the time he was supposed to meet you.
âShit,â He mutters under his breath, breaking into a sprint toward the restaurant.
His mind races, a thousand apologies already forming in his head. Maybe you are still there, waiting. Maybe he can explain. Maybe youâd understand.
But when he arrives, the small restaurant is nearly empty. The table he had reserved was cleared, no sign of you anywhere.
Hongjoongâs chest tightens. He runs a hand through his hair, breath still uneven as he turns in all directions, hopingâprayingâthat you are just running late too.
He pulls out his phone to call you, but there is no answer. He tries again.
Straight to voicemail.
He knows he needs to find you, to explain. But deep down, something tells him that the damage is already done.
And this time, he doesnât know if he can fix it.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
You barely sleep, your body is exhausted, but your mind is restless. You hadnât felt this empty in years, the heaviness of betrayal dragging you into a deep, silent pit.
The house is quiet as you sit down for breakfast, your eyes barely lifting from your plate. Your mother sits across from you, picking at her food.
âSweetie,â Your mother calls softly, breaking the silence âHave you heard from Hongjoong?â
Your chest tightens at the mention of his name, the flash of the photo still burning in your mind. You donât want to talk about himânot today.
Not after everything that happened last night.
âPlease donât.â You mutter under your breath, pushing your plate aside, and voice cracking from the strain of holding back the flood of emotions.
Your mother raises an eyebrow, confused âWhat do you mean?â
You snap, your patience finally unraveling âDonât ask me about him, I don't want to talk about him.â
Your voice comes out sharp, harder than you meant, but it was too late to take the words back.
Your motherâs face stiffs, hurt flashing in her eyes âSweetie, what's going on? Something happened between you orââ
âI donât want to hear his fucking name, again!â You spit, not caring if you are crossing a line.
The silence in the room grows thick and heavy. Mike, who had been leaning against the kitchen door frame, watching the scene unfold, finally speaks up, his voice cold and sharp, a sign of his anger brewing beneath the surface.
âWatch your mouth, YN,â He growls âYou think you can talk to our mother like that?â
Your eyes flick to your brother. There it is. The fury in his gaze is palpable, and you know what is coming.
He always had a short temper, and whenever things didnât go his way, he couldnât control his rage.
And every person in this family knows it.
"Mind your own fucking business, Mike."
âThatâs it,â Mike snarls, his hand gripping your arm with force making you gasp in pain âYou think you can speak to me like that in front of our mother? Youâre just as worthless as I always knew.â
âMike, stop!â Your mother shouts, but itâs too late.
Mike drags you by the arm, the grip tight and punishing, as he pulls you toward the stairs. You struggle against him, your heels slipping on the marble floor, but Mikeâs anger is a force that canât be ignored.
Your parentsâ voices ring out from behind, frantic and desperate.
âMike, let her go! This is insane!â
But he doesnât listen. He doesnât care. The only thing that matters is the fury building inside him, and he isnât about to stop.
Due to the screaming scandal, the employees and even Dann left their duties to see what is happening to the Clarke family.
âMike! What are you doing?â Your mother shouts, but Mike doesn't respond.
He is beyond words now, his anger blinding him, consuming him.
Your vision blurs with anger and pain, you want to scream, to lash out, but you canât. You canât do anything except let him drag you up the stairs, your feet barely touching the steps.
Dann stands in the hallway, frozen, her wide eyes lock on the scene. She can hear her heart thumping in her chest, but she canât bring herself to move, to intervene.
What is he doing? Whatâs happening?
Before everyone can react, your scream resonates in the immense house.
âLet go of me!â You scream, trying to break free, but his hand is like a vice around your arm. Itâs raw, desperate.
Dannâs stomach lurch as the scream echoes in her ears. The sound of footsteps grows louder, and desperate shouts. Her breath hitches, she isn't the type to get involved, but this time she moves instinctively, stepping behind Clarke's family and some other maids.
âMike, stop! What are you doing?!â
Itâs your motherâs voice. Desperate.
With one swift motion, Mike shoves you into your room and slams the door, locking it behind him, the sound of it echoing through the house.
Dannâs gaze flicks towards the other maids, all of them looking as stunned as her, eyes wide with fear unsure if they should help or stay away from this.
Your parentsâ frantic knocks fill the air.
âMike, open this door right now!â Your father screams.
âCalm down, and stop this!â Your mother cries out.
But Mike is past caring. The door remains shut.
Inside, the room feels suffocating. Mikeâs eyes are wild, his hands trembling with rage as he advances on you.
You back away, trying to create distance, but he is too fast.
His fist connects with your face in a brutal slap, sending you stumbling back into the wall. The sharp pain blooms on your cheek, but itâs nothing compared to the twisted fury that burns in his eyes.
âWhy do you always act like you're better than everyone?â Mike hisses, his voice low and venomous âYou think you can get away with everything? I hate you. I hate everything about you.â
You try to steady yourself, the tears threatening to spill, but you refuse to let him see you break.
You wipe your mouth, your body shaking with suppressed anger âWhat the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?!â
Mikeâs eyes flares with rage âI donât need a fucking reason!â He screams back, his foot crashing into your leg, sending you collapsing into the floor âYouâre nothing but a spoiled, ungrateful little bitch.â
Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You try to scramble away from him, but heâs relentless, towering over you, his rage completely uncheck.
âYouâre sick! Stop this shit, Mike!â
The words only seem to make him angrier. He leans down, grabbing you by the hair and yanking your head back.
âIâm the one in control here,â He snarls âAnd youâre nothing.â
â©
Outside the room, the sound from insideâyelling, screams, and the harsh, guttural thudding of fistsâis unmistakable and your parents continue to knock, their voices becoming more desperate by the second.
âPlease help me open the door!â
The head of the family screams to the staff around when the noise intensifies as Mike shouts again, this time inaudible, followed by the sickening sound of something crashing. Dann freezes, her feet rooted to the floor.
âMike, please!â Your mother cries, her voice trembling âYou need to stop! This isnât the way! Pleaseâ!â
Dannâs breath hitches in her throat as she sees your mother, looking frantic, her face pale with fear.
Your father is right behind her, both of them calling Mikeâs name, their voices pleading, but itâs clear he isnât listening.
âMike open the fucking door!â He shouts again, his voice no longer calm but desperate.
He bangs his fist against the wood, as if trying to break it open, but it doesnât work. The door doesnât budge.
Everyone can hear your muffled screams from inside. They are weak, strain, each one like a stab to the chest.
Dann is shocked, she hadnât heard you like this beforeânot ever. You were usually strong, always the one who stood tall, the queen bee who ruled every room she entered.
To hear you reduced to this? It 's too much.
âLet me in!â Your mother pleads, the desperation in her voice rising.
But Mike remains silent behind the door. Then, a sickening crash. The sound of something heavy hitting the floor.
Dannâs hands tremble as she grabs the edge of the railing, her thoughts spinning. She wants to run, to leave, to shut her eyes and pretend she didnât hear the violence unfolding in your room.
She wants to be anywhere but here.
But there is something else in her chestâsomething that feels like guilt. A pang of regret so sharp it made her chest ache.
She had helped Mike. She had been a part of his anger, his manipulation. She had stood by and allowed him to act like this, but now, seeing you suffer...
For the first time, Dann wonders if sheâd made a terrible mistake. She knew that Mike was rigorous, but this? This is beyond anything she had expected.
âPlease, Mike. Open the door! Youâre hurting her! Donât you see what youâre doing?â
Dann could hear the desperation in their voice. Your fatherâwho always seemed so in control, so unwaveringâis breaking down.
But still, Mike doesnât respond.
â©
A bitter smirk curls on your lips. Even as pain burns through your body, you refuse to look away.
"Youâre in control? Why didn't you say the same to Hannah?"
The air in the room shatters.
Everything stops.
Mikeâs breath stills. His grip on your hair freezes.
Then, without warningâ
His hands snap around your throat.
The force slams your head against the floor. White bursts across your vision, pain shooting through your skull. His fingers dig into your skin, cutting off your air in an instant.
Your body jerks, instincts taking over as your hands claw at his wrists, but he doesnât budge.
"Donâtâ" His voice is raw, feral. "âsay her fucking name!"
Your lungs burn, chest heaves, but nothing comes in.
You canât breathe.
A choked, gurgling sound escapes your lips.
For the first timeâtrue, undiluted fear slams into you.
This time, heâs really going to kill you.
â©
The muffled sounds of struggle are alarming enough. But the silence that followsâthe eerie, heavy pauseâmakes Dannâs stomach drop.
She lingers in the hallway with the other maids, hushed whispers mixing with the tense air. The entire house staff is frozen, eyes darting toward the closed door..
Then she hears itâ
A sharp thud. A desperate, choking gasp. And the suffocating, terrifying silence.
Just as she is about to move and help, one big man that she never saw before, shoves her aside, frantically searching for something, anything, to break the door down.
âGet back!â He shouts, and then with a final, desperate push, he manages to get the door open.
The sight that greeted them inside is nothing short of horrific.
Mike is on top of you, his hands wrapped around your throat. Your body jerks violently, fingers clawing at his arms, legs kicking weakly against the floor trying to fight back, but his strength is above yours.
Everyone's face turned a terrifying shade of red.
"Oh my god..." Dann breathes, horror flooding her veins.
This is not what she signed up for. She wanted to hurt you, to knock you down from your pedestal, to humiliate you. But this?
This is fucking murder.
Your eyes are wide, body twitching, struggling to hold on.
And Dannâs stomach twists violently at the sight.
"Mike, stop!" Your mother screams.
He doesnât flinch. His grip doesnât loosen. His body doesnât move. Itâs like heâs completely gone.
You let out a strangled, rasping noise. Your movements are slowing.
Dannâs heart slams against her ribs. Heâs really going to kill you. But she can't move⊠she can't do anything.
Desperate, your father and some male staff lunges forward and grabs at Mikeâs arms, trying to yank him away.
"Youâre going to kill her!" Your mother sobs, panic clawing at her throat.
Nothing.
Mike doesnât even acknowledge her. His expression is blankâtwistedâlike he isnât even there anymore.
Suddenly, your body stops jerking.
Panic shoots through everyone in the room.
And Dann doesnât thinkâshe just acts.
With everything she has, she runs to where the scene is happening and sinks her nails into Mikeâs wrist and bites down on his arm, hard.
Mike roars in pain. His grip finally snaps open, and your body heaves as air rushes back into your lungs.
You collapse onto the floor, coughing violently, gasping for breath.
"Sweetie! Get out of my way, Mike!â Your mother says, her voice icy as she moves to check on you.
But Mike doesnât move. He just stands there, watching them all like they are beneath him.
âMy babyâŠâ She cries, pulling you to her lap.
Mike stumbles back, chest heaving. His dazed expression flickers between confusion and rage, pupils blown wide.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Your father shrieks, voice shaking "You almost killed her!"
Mike barely even looks at him "She deserved it."
The words hit Dann like a slap.
She stumbles back, unable to speak. Her thoughts racing, but none of them make sense.
She had never seen Mike like this before. She had never seen him hurt anyone like this before. The boy who had always been toughâyesâbut this? This is something else.
âYou crossed the line, Mike!!â This time your mother shouts.
âI didnât do anything wrong.â He mutters, voice low and trembling.
Dannâs legs give way, and she sinks to the floor, tears spilling down her face.
She had helped him. She had believed in him.
But now, in the midst of all this chaos, she realizes that she has been wrong. She has been an accomplice in something that she can't even begin to justify.
Dann canât help but feel the full weight of what she has doneâthe guilt, the shame, and the realization that she has let the worst happen under her watch.
A tall man rushes in, followed by security, followed by more maids whispering in hushed, horrified tones.
The room erupts into chaos.
Dann reaches out, hands trembling as she tries to touch you, to help you.
But you, still coughing, still shaking, slap her hand away.
"Donât touch me." You rasp, voice hoarse.
Even in your state you seek to be closer to your mother, and so you do, you get closer until her arms are tightly around you. You turn slightly, looking straight at Mike.
Your expression is unreadable, your lips are swollen, skin bruised, but your eyesâ
Your eyes are filled with something deadly.
And then you do something that makes Dannâs blood freeze.
You smile.
Itâs slow, brokenâfull of bitter, quiet rage.
"Now that was dramatic," Your rasp voice is laced with mockery "All because of a name?"
Mikeâs face twists. For a second, he looks like he might attack again. But security grabs him, forcing him back.
Your mother turns to the guards, voice sharp with panic "Get him out of here!"
Mike thrashes for a moment, then suddenly stills. His expression remains unreadable, but his eyes stay locked on you.
And for the first time since the night beganâ
Dann sees fear in them.
You have won.
Not by fighting back. Not by screaming.
But by surviving.
And as you sit there in your mother's arms, breathless, broken, smilingâDann realizes something terrifying.
Itâs not the first time this has happened.
Your way of acting is not in accordance with what has just happened. It's almost like you're used to it by now.
And she is sure that you aren't going to let this go. Youâre going to destroy him.
And Dann?
Dann just picked the losing side.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
The mansion is eerily quiet after the chaos. The tension lingers like an unshakable presence, seeping into every corner of the house.
You sit on your massive bed, your mother beside you, dabbing a cold cloth against your bruised throat. The older womanâs hands tremble slightly, her usual composure cracked by todayâs events.
Your father stands near the window, arms crossed, his face unreadable as he stares outside.
In the kitchen, the maids whisper in hushed voices, and their faces pale as they recount what had just transpired.
Dann sits frozen with her mother at her side, both overwhelmed by what theyâve learned.
"This isn't the first time," One of the older maids murmurs "Mister Mike has always had... temper issues. But he used to just slap Miss YN when they argued. Never like this. Never... this violent."
Dannâs breath catches in her throat. Slaps? Before he left for Germany? Her stomach churns. She was aware of Mike being intense, but she never considered that he might have actually hurt you before today.
Another maid, older and wise beyond her years, sighs, shaking her head.
"I remember the last time it happened. Miss YN didn't cry. She never does. She just took it, and when he was gone, she smiled like nothing had happened. But this time... this time was different. He went too far."
âOur little girl itâs been through a lot because of her brother.â
Dannâs mother tightens her grip on Dannâs arm, impressed by the information. Never in all her years of working for the upper class had she witnessed such a scene
Therefore, Dann keeps thinking about your reactionâabout the way you smiled. A slow, broken, bitter smile that sent chills down her spine.
You weren't just going to let this go.
âź â
Inside your room, you finally move. You reach for your phone with shaky fingers and open a group chat that only has two contactsâWooyoung and Mindy.
YNâĄ: It 's happening again.
A few seconds later, they respond.
Babe Min: That motherfucker!
Brat Woo: Weâre on our way, babydoll.
You smile, click out of the chat, and call one of the maids who usually attends the front door.
"Do not let anyone in except Wooyoung and Mindy. No one. Understand?"
"Yes, Miss YN."
You sigh, exhausted. Your phone keeps buzzingâdozens of missed calls and messages from Hongjoong since yesterday night.
JoongieâĄ: YN, please answer me.
JoongieâĄ: Let me explain everything to you.
JoongieâĄ: Please, pretty. Iâm so sorry.
You stare at the screen before shutting your phone off entirely. You aren't in the mood to talk to him.
Not now. Not today.
You lean back against the pillows, your fingers grazing the bruises on your neck.
You close your eyes.
Mike had made a mistake today, and you aren't going to let this go.
âź â
When Mindy and Wooyoung arrived, they didn't need anyone to guide them through your house. They had been here a thousand times beforeâthrough grand parties, sleepovers, and nights of shared secrets.
But today, the air feels different. Heavy. The grandeur of the mansion, usually welcoming in its cold luxury, seems suffocating.
The maids barely acknowledge them as they walk in, a clear sign of the chaos that had unfolded just hours ago. Wooyoung gives a small nod to one of the familiar staff members, but she only bows slightly before hurrying away.
Neither him nor Mindy speak as they ascend the wide marble staircase. They know where to find you.
Your room is at the end of the hall, the massive double doors usually standing slightly ajar when you are in a good mood.
Today, they are shut tight. Wooyoung and Mindy exchange a look before Mindy knocks lightly.
No answer.
Woo sighs, twisting the handle and pushing the door open.
The dim lighting cast soft shadows across the space, the only source of real illumination being the faint glow from the lamp by the bed. You are lying there, curled on your side, back to the door.
You aren't asleep. They can tell by the way your shoulders tensed slightly at the sound of them entering.
Mindy walks over first, sitting on the edge of the bed. Wooyoung follows, standing at the foot, arms crossed.
âBabe,â Mindy says softly.
For a moment, it seemed like you wouldnât answer. Then, your voice came, quiet but steady.
âIt happened again.â
Mindy and Wooyoung share a glance. They know exactly what you meant.
Wooyoung clenches his jaw âTell us everything.â
You inhale deeply before rolling onto your back, staring at the ceiling. They look in horror at the bruises that cover your neck and the slight wounds on your face.
This went beyond what it usually was.
âSince he returned.â You start, voice eerily calm âHe has done nothing but make horrible comments and make my life almost impossible.â
Woo exhales sharply. He had always known about Mikeâs temper, but hearing you say it so plainlyâso matter-of-factlyâmakes his stomach churn.
Mindy, quiet and attentive, reaches for your hand âWhen was the first one?â
You let out a dry chuckle âA month ago at his party, after his grandiose speech I went out to the courtyard to smoke a little.â
Mindy nods, her grip tightening âThat night?â
âHe caught me, and slapped me across the face like I was some misbehaving child,â You say bitterly âHe said I was embarrassing him and our family.â
Wooyoung swears under his breath, pacing slightly.
âThen the next time, someone sent him a video of me smoking weed at the club a couple of days ago. I dont know who the fuck sent him that, we were the only ones in the vip room. Anyways; he cornered me when I arrived, and called me a cheap whore, and when I talked backââ You gesture vaguely at your cheek âAnother fucking slap.â
Mindyâs jaw tightened âI didn't believe your story of falling on the stairs at all, I already suspected that Mike had done something. Why didn't you just tell me that my suspicions were correct, YN?â
You shrug âNot like you could have stopped him.â
Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, frustrated âBut todayâtoday was different, wasnât it? He's slapped you before, but this is being a fucking asshole.â
Silence stretches between them, thick with unspoken words. Then, you sit up slightly, your tone shifting.
âAnd as if that wasnât enough, Hongjoong has been acting differently, too.â
Mindy frowns, nodding âWe have noticed, what's wrong with him?â
You scoff âSince I gave him a chance and since we fucked.â You scoff âThe stupid rumor at school became true.â
Wooyoung raises a brow, but says nothing.
âHeâs been weird. Distant sometimes. Sweet other times. I donât know what to make of it,â You admit, frustration creeping into your voice âAnd then yesterday, he invited me on a date to explain everything, but never showed up.â
Mindyâs brows furrow âDid he say why?â
âNo⊠But Seonghwa sent me something.â
You reach for your phone on the nightstand, unlock it, and hand it to them. On the screen is a pictureâa blurry yet unmistakable image of Hongjoong in a cafĂ©, hugging a girl.
Wooyoung stiffs immediately, his eyes narrowing âThat place⊠thatâs a cafĂ© Hwa likes to go to.â
âYou recognize it?â
Wooyoung nods slowly, his mind working âAnd that girl⊠she looks familiar.â
Mindy leans in, squinting âWhere do you know her from?â
Wooyoung exhales, rubbing his temple âI donât know. I know that she works in that cafe, I've seen her elsewhere, but I canât remember where.â
You groan in frustration, flopping back onto the bed âGreat.â
Mindy places a hand on your arm. âBabe⊠Do you think Seonghwa is messing with you? Itâs strange that he sent you that photo.â
âMaybe. But I donât trust Hongjoong either.â
Woo crosses his arms âSo what now?â
You turn your head to look at both of them âNow?â A slow, bitter smirk spreads across your face âNow, I play my own game. Woo, I need you to go to that place and find out who that slut is. Also, try to remember where you've seen her.â
âGot it, babydoll.â He nods with a sly smile.
âBabe, try to find who sent that video to Mike and have Seonghwa in your sight⊠I don't know why, but since you said he talked with Dann at the party, it concerned me.â
âSure thing, babe.â
âThanks, guys. For everything.â You say sincerely as you open your arms.
They smile as they lean in, carefully embarrassing you in a hug.
âNo worries, babydoll. We will help you with that fucking brother you have.â
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
Hongjoong stands outside the grand gates of Clarkeâs estate, his hands clenches into fists. The cold iron bars seem more impenetrable than ever, as if they are physically barring him from your life.
He has been trying to reach you all week, but every call went to voicemail. Every text remained unanswered.
He exhales sharply and walks up to the main entrance, where one of the maids, an older woman with a neutral expression, steps forward to greet him.
âHi, Can I see YN?â He asks politely, although he already knows what answer he will receive.
The maid hesitates before giving a slight bow âIâm sorry, but Miss YN has ordered that no visitors be allowed.â
His jaw tightens âI just need five minutes, I really need to talk to her.â
The maidâs face remains unreadable, she has seen him almost every day this week and he is still firm on seeing you.
âIâm afraid I canât allow that.â
Frustration surges through him âCan you at least give her a message? Tell her Iââ
âShe will not receive messages either.â
Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He had expected you to be upset, but not to shut him out completely.
He wasnât giving up. Digging into his pocket, he pulls out a small, carefully wrapped box.
âFine,â He mutters âAt least, can you give her this, please?â
The maid hesitates before nodding, taking the gift from him. Without another word, she turns and disappears into the house.
Hongjoong stands there for a moment longer, hopingâprayingâthat you would change your mind and come to see him. But the doors remain closed.
With a frustrated sigh, he turns and walks away.
He is not going to give up.
âź â
When you receive the package, you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at it in silence.
A gift.
Just like every time your parents had done something wrong, and instead of real apologies, they showered you with expensive gifts to make up for it.
Your fingers tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a small charmâa butterfly.
It 's beautiful and thoughtful, but it isnât what you need.
Tears prick your eyes as you set the necklace down beside you, your stomach twisting with a familiar pain.
You close your eyes, swallowing down the lump in your throat.
You arenât going to let yourself be bought by him.
Not Hongjoong.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
Dann grips the strap of her bag tightly as she stands in the empty hall of the big house, her heart hammering.
Mike leans against the grand piano, his usual mask of cold confidence in place, fingers lazily tapping against the polished wood.
âI was wondering when youâd stop avoiding me,â He says casually, though thereâs a sharpness underneath.
Dann swallows âI wasnâtââ
He tilts his head, cutting her off âYou were.â His eyes narrow âAnd I donât like being ignored.â
Dann clenches her fists âWhat do you want?â
Mikeâs lips curve into something that might look like a smile to someone who didnât know better.
âWhat do you think I want? I want you to stop acting like you suddenly grew a conscience.â
Dannâs throat tightens âYN didnât deserve that. Youââ
âI what?â His voice turns ice-cold, and he pushes off the piano, stepping toward her âAre you going to tell me what a monster I am, Dann? How unfair I was to my dear little sister?â His voice drips with mockery.
Dann takes a step back. Mike watches her with something like amusement, but it doesnât reach his eyes.
âLetâs not forget our arrangement.â Dann stiffens âIn case you need reminding,â He continues smoothly, âMy parents gave your mother a job, and I'm the reason your scholarship even exists. And just as easily as I gave you all of thatâŠâ His voice lowers, full of quiet threat âI can take it all away.â
Dannâs breath catches âYou wouldnât.â
Mike raises an eyebrow âWouldnât I? You see what happened to YN. right?â
Silence stretches between them, suffocating. Dann feels like sheâs being held under water, forced to swallow the reality of her situation.
ââŠWhat do you want me to do?â She finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
He smiles again âThatâs more like it. Start finding more info about YN, I don't care what, but give me something to make her break completely.â Dann feels sick, she meets Mikeâs expectant gaze âFind out what you can, and make sure you tell me first.â
Dann exhales shakily, she has no choice.
At school, she feels lost, she feel like throwing up everytime she thinks of Mike and his threats. How did you handle him all these years?
Her stomach churns.
She should have expected this. She did expect this. Mike was never going to let her walk away. But after what he did to you⊠after what she helped him doâŠ
Her hands shake. She tells herself she didnât really have a choice. That it wasnât her who locked you in that room, who let that horrible scene unfold.
But wasnât it?
Wasnât she the one who fed Mike information in the first place? The one who stood by while you screamed on the other side of that door?
A lump forms in her throat, and she presses her back against the cold metal lockers, squeezing her eyes shut.
You didnât deserve that.
You, whoâdespite everythingâhave a reason to act like you do.
And now, Mike wanted her to do it all over again.
A soft laugh escapes her, bitter and humorless. She thought this deal with Seonghwa was her using him, that she was playing the game instead of being a pawn.
But the truth isâŠ
She was never going to win against people like them.
But here she is, throwing you to the wolves.
Again.
But if she doesnât her mother loses her job. Her scholarship is gone. Everything she fought forâeverything she sacrificedâwasted.
A deep, shuddering breath. Dann closes her eyes.
Iâm sorry, YN.
âź â ËïœĄđŠč âïœĄÂ°â©
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ANOTHER UPDATE! COME ON WEâRE BACK!!!
ă €ââââââââ ă €ââââââ Chapter Eleven: You Wonder why Iâm Bitter
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masterpost
á wc: 8.2k (total: ???)
á fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?
á playlist !
á Alone and aching for the connection that once felt so natural, you reluctantly turn to an unlikely companion: Pompidou, who listens to you pour out all the longing youâve fought so hard to bury. While you grapple with the emptiness left by Hongjoongâs sudden withdrawal, he, too, finds himself lost, wrestling with the very feelings heâs tried to deny. Haunted by memories and choices he canât quite reconcile, Hongjoong is caught between the familiarity of the past and the confusing reality of the present.
a/n: was supposed to upload this on the 27th cause thatâs my birthday but i just canât wait any longer đ keep an eye out for the littlest of details because nothing is as it seems in this chapter :P lmk what you guys think!
tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl
First of all, I hate myself. Second of all, I hate myself. Oh, and did I already mention that I hate myself? I just donât know what to do anymore! It feels like itâs been a whole decade ever since I last picked up a pen to scribble on this godforsaken journal⊠I wish I could just go back to the time I was writing the page behind the one Iâm writing on right now and just cancel my flight to Paris. This is all so frustrating, you know? Fashion Week is nearing, and I am not prepared at allâno, not even a little. Iâm supposed to be spending my hours inside the studio practicing runway walks and testing out facial expressions, but no! Iâm way too afraid of crossing paths with Hongjoong to even think about the consequences of not taking my preparations seriously! And speaking of HongjoongâŠ
Heâs driving me to the edge of my sanity. I donât know whatâs going on with himâokay, scratch that, I definitely do. I just donât get why heâs acting so avoidant all of a sudden⊠I mean, like, okay, I would understand his unprovoked need for distance between us if we actually kissed that night, but we didnât. The farthest step we were able to take was just him holding onto the sides of my face and me looking at his lips like Iâm a starved dog looking at its first meal of the day before Wooyoung fortunately interrupted usâso why is he acting up?
Heâs like one of those girls youâd befriend in highschool whoâd show up on the hallways suddenly judging your entire soul on a random Wednesday, and I donât like it. Seriously, whatâs his problem? He made me accustomed to his usual sweet and caring persona, and all of a sudden, he wants to act like this? What have I done wrong? Wasnât it literally him who initiated the⊠whatever Iâm supposed to call what happened that night?
Iâm just concerned, you know. Itâs been two weeks, and yet heâs still avoiding me like Iâm the plague. I havenât been receiving any messages from him at all lately, either. Even Madame Dupont is asking me why she no longer sees the âsmall young handsome boyâ waiting for me outside the apartment building while leaning against his car. Wooyoungâs been trying to persuade me into confirming his theory that Hongjoong and I are going through a loversâ quarrel for three days now, too. And guess whoâs the most troubled of them all? Seonghwa. Heâs been doing his best to put us back into speaking terms for a while now, and I donât know whyâI swear I didnât ask him to do that.
Everyone is worried. Everyone but him.
You know, this brings me back to that unrecognizable faceless guy I see in some of my blurry flashbacks. I remember him asking me how long Iâve been bottling up my emotions, and when I told him Iâve been doing so for pretty much my entire life, he told me to consider writing in a journal.
What does the unrecognizable dude have to do with Hongjoong and his unreadable behavior? Nothing.
I just noticed that itâs been a while since I last wrote a journal entry, and⊠itâs been a while since I last let my emotions unravel. I remember the words that came out of his mouth that day.
âWhen you canât figure out what youâre feeling, or if you need to let it all out, the only thing you have to do is pull this out along with a pen, and from then on, you can start writing away. Let yourself get lost in your own world.â
You know what, in a way, I think he and Hongjoong actually have something in common. I know I canât say much because I only have one memory of this guy, but he spoke with as much wisdom as Hongjoong does. Also⊠âlet yourself get lost in your own world.â Thatâs honestly the most Hongjoong-ish advice someone could ever give, given how he himself gets lost in his own world of artistry, too.
I just wish heâd stop ignoring me. I canât help but feel like this is all somehow my fault⊠Am I just hurting myself by expecting things to suddenly go back to the way they used to be?
As you closed your journal with a weary sigh, your eyes drifted to the dim glow of your bedside clock reading 2:37 a.m. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of distant traffic, yet you felt far from at peace. It was a night for sleep, yet your mind wouldnât quiet; thoughts of Hongjoong twisted and turned within you, refusing to settle.
âWhy does it feel like this?â you murmured, pressing your palms into your face, as if that could somehow soothe the ache in your chest. You longed for comfort, for answers, even for a brief respite from the confusion that had become your constant companion. âIf only that faceless guy could telepathically whisper some words of wisdom to me right nowâŠâ
Two weeks had passed since you last shared any words with Hongjoongâtwo weeks where every glance, every passing moment, felt laced with an unspoken tension that only deepened the rift between you. It was all becoming painfully real, the shift so clear to everyone around you. But no one knew the truthâthe moment you almost kissed, the silent proximity that had left you dizzy and wondering. Even Seonghwa, in his genuine concern, couldnât know the pang of vulnerability that had filled that night, the fear and excitement mingling as youâd come closer than ever before.
Your mind flashed back to the other day when the ache of his absence had been sharpest. You passed by him in a hallway, hoping for a flicker of his usual warmth, his soft gaze that once reassured you of your place in his world. But heâd brushed past with such indifferenceânot even nodding to acknowledge your presence, a chill in his demeanor that left you hollow. And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving you alone with a rising sense of loss.
Without thinking, you picked up your phone and opened your gallery. Photos of Hongjoong filled your screen, and your eyes drift over candid snapshotsâsome of you and Hongjoong working late in the studio, others of him laughing or looking thoughtful, moments caught by your camera that now feel like glimpses into another lifetime. Thereâs a picture of him outside your apartment building, waving you goodbye one evening. Another shot of him hunched over his desk in concentration, unaware that youâd snapped the photo from across the room. Then, thereâs a particularly precious one of the two of you, taken in his officeâwhich was likely Wooyoungâs doing.
As you scroll, an ache blossoms within you, spreading in slow, insistent waves that make your chest feel tight. You can feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, and it catches you off guard. Why now? Why does he, of all people, have this power over you? You swipe at the tears, frustrated by the sudden swell of emotion. Itâs not supposed to be like this, you tell yourself. Hongjoong is supposed to be your friend, your mentor, the one person in Paris who helped you find your footing when everything felt foreign. But as the images blur beneath the glisten of unshed tears, you canât help but wonder if thatâs all heâll ever beâsomeone whose warmth once felt like home, and whose absence now feels like a loss youâre not ready to face.
The soft scratching at your window pulls you abruptly from your thoughts. For a moment, you freeze, glancing back at the phone youâd just placed on your desk. Carefully, you grab your journalâa flimsy defense, maybe, but itâs better than nothing. Heart pounding just slightly, you step forward, inching closer to the window.
When you peek over, youâre met with a familiar sight: Pompidou, the resident stray cat who had made the apartment building his kingdom, sits with one paw pressed to the glass, his usual unamused expression aimed your way.
You exhale a breath you didnât know youâd been holding, feeling the tension drain from your shoulders as you let out a soft laugh. Setting your journal on the bed, you reach over to open the window, letting him slip inside with practiced ease. He slinks past you with the air of someone who owns the place and makes himself right at home, hopping onto your bed and circling until heâs claimed his spot in the center.
You sit beside him, running a gentle hand over his soft fur. Itâs strange how much you missed him. For the past few weeks, your room felt emptier without his occasional visitsâwithout that extra little creature who just⊠understood you, in a way. And now, with Hongjoongâs absence haunting you, Pompidou couldnât have come at a better time.
The thought hits you harder than you expect: here you are, at your lowest, relying on a cat for comfort simply because the one person youâre used to confiding in has become distant, almost like a stranger. The ache in your chest intensifies, and before you know it, youâre lying down next to him, resting your head on the bed and gazing at his calm, indifferent eyes. It feels silly, pathetic even, to be speaking your heart to a cat, but in this silence, with no one else to turn to, you let yourself unravel.
âPompidou,â you whisper, voice barely holding steady, âI⊠I donât know what I did wrong. Everything was fine, wasnât it?â Your fingers tremble as they thread through his fur, a warmth grounding you in the midst of your unraveling. âI donât know how we ended up here. Heâs always been there for me, and now⊠itâs like heâs vanished. And Iâm trying, I really am, but every time I reach out, itâs like heâs miles away.â
A sharp breath catches in your throat, and you look up at the ceiling, fighting against the tears stinging your eyes. âItâs probably all my fault,â you confess in a whisper that breaks. âMaybe I was too much, or maybe I should have⊠I donât know, said something differently, done something better. Maybe I shouldnât have invited him to eat dinner that night so thatâŠâ A bitter chuckle slips out as you squeeze your eyes shut. âItâs funny, you know. All my life, Iâve been terrified of being alone, of people walking out⊠and now here I am, trying to be okay with him pulling away like itâs nothing.â
Pompidou shifts slightly, his warm body pressing into your side, a small reminder that heâs there, and heâs not leaving. You let your hand drop to your chest, feeling the dull ache thatâs settled there. âI just miss him, Pompidou. I miss the way he used to look at me like I mattered. Now, he canât even look me in the eyes. And I donât know why Iâm clinging to that, why Iâm hoping heâll suddenly turn around and go back to being who he was.â
The silence swallows you for a moment. âMaybe itâs because, deep down, Iâm still the same pathetic teenager from Arcadia Bay whoâs scared that she doesnât deserve anything better. That sheâs always going to be left behind, and this⊠this is just proof.â Your voice falters, words thick with pain you can no longer hold back. âAnd if he leaves, then maybe itâs what I deserve.â
âMaybe I was the one who left him in an alternate reality, and this is the price I have to pay for it,â you joke, but it only feels like a pathetic attempt to make yourself feel better.
The pain is so sharp it almost feels physical, a hollow ache that makes every breath feel heavier than the last. You close your eyes, fighting against the helplessness clawing at your insides, but the words keep pouring out, jagged and raw, as though voicing them might lessen the weightâeven if itâs only to a cat who canât respond.
âDo you know whatâs worse?â you whisper, fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt over your chest as if you could hold yourself together by sheer will. âItâs that I canât even be mad at him. I want to beâbelieve me, Iâve tried. I tell myself heâs the one pulling away, that heâs the one whoâs changed, but then I start wondering⊠what if I pushed him to this? What if Iâm the reason heâs slipping through my fingers?â
A soft tremor runs through your hands, and you curl them into fists, teeth gritted as you force the tears back. âI keep thinking⊠maybe heâs right to distance himself. Maybe thereâs something broken in me, something that just drives people away. And the worst part is, I keep wishing heâd come back, like Iâd somehow be enough if I could justââ
Your voice catches, breaking into a whisper as you bury your face in your hands, barely holding in the sob that threatens to spill out. âI just donât understand. He was my safe place, Pompidou. For the first time in so long, I actually felt like I mattered. He made me feel seen. And now⊠now I feel invisible all over again, like everything we shared was just temporary, like it didnât mean anything.â
Pompidou shifts closer, his soft purr rumbling beneath your fingertips as you stroke his fur, a small solace in the middle of this storm.
âI try to convince myself that Iâm fine, that I can go on without him,â you continue, voice cracking as the words spill out unchecked. âBut the truth is, Iâm terrified. Iâm scared that if he leaves⊠if heâs really gone, Iâll be alone again, just like before. And I hate myself for feeling this way, for being so⊠so weak.â
The tears finally break free, slipping down your cheeks in a silent flood. âWhat does that say about me? That Iâm so dependent on him, that I canât even imagine my life without him? I thought I was stronger than this, that Iâd learned how to stand on my own. But now⊠now itâs like Iâm right back to that scared, lonely kid I used to be, clinging to anyone who shows me a hint of kindness.â
You pull your knees to your chest, holding yourself as tightly as you can, as if you could somehow shield yourself from the emptiness swallowing you whole. âI canât stop thinking that maybe this is all I deserve. That maybe Iâm meant to be alone. Maybe heâs finally seeing me for who I am, and heâs realizing Iâm not worth it.â
Your shoulders shake as the sobs escape, quiet and raw, each one cutting through you like glass. Pompidou curls closer, his little face pressing against your arm, as though he understands in his own way. But his silent comfort only deepens the ache, a reminder that the person you need more than anything isnât here, and youâre left holding yourself together with nothing but frayed threads of hope.
With a shuddering breath, you finally admit the fear youâve been trying so hard to ignore. âWhat if he doesnât come back, Pompidou? What if this is it? I donât think⊠I donât think I can handle losing him. Not like this.â
Your voice drops to a whisper, the words coming slow and soft as you gaze out the window, eyes unfocused. âI just⊠I miss him, Pompidou,â you murmur, fingers absently tracing patterns against the sheets.
âI miss all the little things that made it feel like he was a part of me, like he was woven into my days without me even realizing it. I miss the way heâd send me random sketches, the ones that made no sense but made me laugh anyway, like he was letting me in on his little worlds. I miss⊠I miss how heâd always have this ridiculous drink order for me every time weâd meet up at the cafĂ© where we switched up our notebooks with one another before we met for the first time. Itâs like he knew exactly what Iâd need, even if I didnât.â
The memories wash over you, and you canât stop the warmth from pooling in your chest as you picture those moments. âI wish we could go back to that time when things were⊠simple. When I could sit beside him without feeling like the whole world was shifting under my feet. When heâd laugh and look at me like I was⊠like I was something special, you know?â
Your voice trembles, and you tighten your grip on the sheets. âAnd the thing is⊠it was just easy with him. Heâd be there, always making me feel like nothing could go wrong as long as we were together. Heâd be there with his quiet, comforting presence, and I could just⊠be. I didnât have to pretend or put on some mask. It was like he could see right through me, and somehow, he didnât care about all the mess he found.â
You take a deep breath, the words spilling out like a plea. âI just want to go back, Pompidou. Back to before everything felt so fragile, before that almost-kiss, before this⊠this distance. I wish I could reach out and take it all back. Iâd give anything just to have things feel normal again.â
Pompidou tilts his head, eyes blinking up at you, and you canât help but laugh, a soft, broken sound that catches in your throat. âI know it sounds silly, doesnât it? I mean, how could I expect anything to be the same after that? But I canât help it, Pompidou. I want to go back to when heâd smile at me like that, when I didnât have to wonder if I was the one pushing him away.â
You close your eyes, feeling the weight of each memory anchor you down. âI miss his laugh. I miss his stupid jokes. I miss the way heâd lean closer when he talked about his dreams, his voice getting all serious like he could see every detail in his mind. And I miss⊠I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere, like I belonged with him. I miss how heâd look at me with this warmth, like I was enough, just as I was.â
The words come out like a broken whisper, a confession youâve been holding inside for far too long. âI canât stop missing him. I wish⊠I wish I could go back to that last night before everything shifted. Before the night we nearly kissed, before I even realized what I felt. I wish I couldâve just stayed there, in that moment, without letting any of it change.â
You hug your knees, curling up as the ache settles deeper, heavier. âBut I canât. And now itâs as if Iâm left with pieces of him in everything around me, and I donât know how to put myself back together without him.â
You pull yourself up, exhaling slowly, and walk over to your desk. The room feels quiet, still heavy with everything youâve let out, yet somehow emptier too, as if releasing the words has left you hollow. With a shaky hand, you pick up your phone and make your way back to bed, curling up beside Pompidou, who has already claimed his spot against your pillow. Settling into the blankets, you scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over Hongjoongâs icon.
Itâs just his initials next to a simple photo he once sentâa candid moment he probably forgot about, something so ordinary that itâs precious now. The way he looked when he didnât realize anyone was watching: a slight smile, eyes softened by something he found funny, maybe even a bit endearing. The sight makes your chest tighten, and you let yourself scroll up, reading through old conversations like leafing through the pages of a treasured book.
Each message brings back flashes of shared laughter and late-night ramblings, little moments where time seemed to pause, and it was just the two of youâuntouchable, safe. You linger on a message he sent on a rainy afternoon, a random joke he thought would cheer you up. Your lips curl into a faint smile, but itâs bittersweet. There was a time when it was so easy, so effortless, like breathing. He had a way of knowing exactly when you needed a reminder that he was there. But now, that comfort feels distant, unreachable.
A tear slips down your cheek again before you realize it, and you hastily swipe it away, but the sorrow wells up again, slipping past your guard. As if sensing your pain, Pompidou extends a soft paw, resting it gently below your eyes, and you feel his fur against your cheek, grounding you in a way that words canât. His small gesture tugs a quiet, breathy laugh from you, despite the ache in your chest. Itâs as if heâs trying to catch your sadness, pulling it away piece by piece, his wide eyes fixed on yours with an empathy you can almost feel.
You let your head fall, hugging Pompidou close, allowing yourself to finally surrender to the pain and let it wash over you without restraint. The loneliness, the longing, the hollow spaces Hongjoongâs absence has left in youâall of it spills out as you clutch the feline tightly, letting his warmth and steady breathing lull you into a fragile sense of comfort. The room seems to blur, softening around you as the weight of everything youâve been holding back presses into you.
The tears come faster now, unstoppable, and your quiet sobs fill the silence, raw and unfiltered. Itâs just you and Pompidou, and for a moment, it feels like youâre not truly alone. There, in the quiet solace of your room, you cling to that small comfort, letting yourself feel every ounce of longing, letting yourself miss himâfully, desperately, hopelessly.
â
Meanwhile, Hongjoong stood in his office, the warm, nostalgic tones of âLa Vie en Roseâ playing softly from the record player behind him. His gaze fixed on the window, hands clasped tightly behind his back, and he fought to keep his emotions in check. Each note lingered in the air, pulling him deeper into the web of memories he was desperately trying to forget. This song, of all songsâhe could still remember how it had been playing when the two of you had stood together in the flower shop, laughing over bouquets and trading light-hearted jokes as if the world beyond didnât exist.
Part of him knew he could walk over and turn it off. The music was his to control, after all. And yet⊠he couldnât bring himself to stop it. The melody was the last fragile thread that kept him tethered to you, a reminder of the warmth he felt in your presence, the comfort of knowing someone understood him.
The dim light from the city outside cast a soft glow over his office, illuminating the expanse of papers scattered across his desk, the outlines of unfinished sketches and hastily scrawled notes, all reminders of the whirlwind heâd buried himself in since he started pushing you away. Each corner of the room felt saturated with memories of youâand it was strange how a space that had once felt so alive now seemed hollow, absent of the warmth youâd brought into it.
He tried to focus on the skyline again, his eyes tracing the glittering lights of the city. It was an attempt to ground himself, to pull himself back from the turmoil inside him. But tonight, every bit of stillness he attempted felt false, every piece of composure barely hanging by a thread. All he could think about was youâthe absence of your presence filling every empty space in his mind, as if refusing to be silenced.
He turned slowly from the window, allowing his gaze to wander over his desk. It was almost impossible to remember the last time heâd felt fully at ease in this room. The stacks of designs that had once held so much promise now felt like hollow accomplishments, each one only reminding him of the fire youâd helped him ignite. His eyes landed on a small pendant lying amidst the clutter. The flower encased inside had faded slightly, its once-vibrant petals softened by time. He picked it up, cradling it carefully in his hand, feeling a strange tenderness rise within him.
Youâd given him that flower, pressing it into his hand with a shy smile as you murmured something about it bringing him luck. He could still recall the way your fingers had lingered against his, the brief but electric touch that had left him wondering if you felt it too. âFor good luck,â youâd said, your eyes sparkling in that way they always did when you felt especially close to him.
Hongjoong swallowed, feeling a tightness in his chest as he held the pendant closer. How was it that something so small could carry the weight of so many memories? He closed his eyes, and the warmth of your smile flashed in his mind, as vivid as if you were standing beside him. But now, as he held the pendant, it felt heavier, like a tiny piece of the past he was terrified of losing forever.
In his mind, he slipped back to that nightâthe one that had started as an ordinary work session, yet had unraveled into something far more vulnerable. He could still feel the closeness of the room, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows as you both worked side by side, immersed in the quiet moment you shared.
Youâd shared things that night that were never meant to leave the room. He could still hear your voice, low and hesitant, as you revealed the fears you held closest to your heart. âBeing left alone,â youâd admitted, your words raw and unguarded. The truth of it had lingered between you, a quiet vulnerability that had shaken him more than he cared to admit.
When you turned the question back on him, heâd hesitated, feeling the weight of his own guarded secrets pressing against his chest. But in that quiet space, under the gentle glow of the lamp, heâd found himself opening up in ways he hadnât allowed himself to in years. âLosing myself,â heâd whispered, his voice barely audible, but enough for you to hear. âThatâs what Iâm afraid of.â
Now, standing alone in his empty office, Hongjoong felt the irony of it all washing over him. Heâd tried so hard to protect himself, to build walls so high that even you couldnât reach them. But now, it felt as if he had developed a new fear bigger than losing himselfâlosing you.
A quiet knock on the door broke his reverie, and he tensed, slipping the pendant into his pocket as he turned. Wooyoungâs face appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of Hongjoong standing alone, the haunting strains of La Vie en Rose still spinning softly from the record player across the room.
Wooyoungâs eyes flickered to the player, where the melody had been looping for what must have been the better part of an hour. âStill here?â he asked quietly, a hint of concern threading his tone.
Hongjoong forced a slight smile, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. âCouldnât sleep.â
Wooyoung stepped further into the room, his gaze sharp as it settled on Hongjoong. âYou knowâŠâ Wooyoung began, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall, âthe world can see how miserable you are. Including herâespecially her.â
Hongjoong stiffened, the forced nonchalance slipping from his face as he turned away, staring intently at the record player as if it held all the answers he was struggling to find. âI donât know what youâre talking about,â he muttered, the words feeling hollow even to his own ears.
âHongjoong,â Wooyoungâs tone softened, a hint of exasperation breaking through. âI know you. I know how much you care about her. And I know youâre running from something you canât outrun. But youâre not fooling anyone by pretending it doesnât matter.â
Hongjoongâs jaw tightened, his mind racing with all the reasons heâd built to keep you at a distance. Each one felt logical, safe, a way to protect himself from something he couldnât quite name. But here, with Wooyoung standing there, watching him with that steady gaze, he felt every layer heâd built start to unravel.
âIâm not pretending,â he said quietly, barely audible above the music.
Wooyoungâs eyes narrowed, his tone turning softer, almost pleading. âThen what are you doing, Hongjoong? Because from where Iâm standing, all I see is someone too scared to reach for what he really wants.â
Hongjoongâs heart twisted painfully, Wooyoungâs words hitting far too close to home. He felt the weight of everything heâd tried to suppress rising within him, a tidal wave of emotions heâd buried so deeply heâd convinced himself they were gone. But Wooyoungâs words had brought them to the surface, and now, there was no escaping them.
A silence stretched between them, and Hongjoongâs gaze fell to the floor. In that moment, he felt utterly vulnerable, as though Wooyoung could see right through him, could see the aching desire heâd tried so hard to deny. He didnât have to say itâWooyoung already knew.
Hongjoongâs fingers were still curled around the pendant in his pocket when Wooyoung let out a quiet sigh, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. âSo,â Wooyoung began, breaking the silence, âare you really going to stand here, pretending everythingâs fine?â
Hongjoongâs jaw clenched, his shoulders tensing. He wanted to brush off Wooyoungâs words, to deflect with some casual response that would keep the carefully built walls intact. But his mind was a battlefield, each memory of you cutting through his defenses like a blade.
âEverything is fine,â he replied tersely. He didnât meet Wooyoungâs eyes, focusing instead on a spot just beyond his shoulder.
Wooyoungâs brows knitted together, clearly unconvinced. âRight. Thatâs why youâve been playing her favorite song on loop for the last hour. Thatâs why youâve been holed up in here, avoiding anything that reminds you of her.â He shook his head, his tone equal parts exasperation and worry. âHongjoong, youâre not fooling me. I know you, and I know youâre running from somethingâfrom someone.â
Hongjoong let out a low, frustrated sigh, finally looking up at Wooyoung. âWooyoung, just drop it, alright?â He forced a tense smile, attempting to sound dismissive. âThis⊠whatever you think is going on, itâs all in your head. We were just friends.â
But Wooyoung didnât budge. âFriends?â He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of disbelief. âYou really want to go with that? Because the way youâre acting⊠it doesnât look like youâre just missing a friend. Youâre avoiding her like sheâs a stranger, but then youâre here, playing her favorite song over and over, clutching onto that pendant like itâs the last piece of her you have.â
Hongjoongâs fingers instinctively tightened around the pendant, and he felt a pang of frustration rise within him. He didnât want to admit that Wooyoungâs words struck too close to home. âI told you, itâs nothing like that,â he bit back, his tone sharper than intended. âYouâre turning this into something it isnât.â
Wooyoungâs eyes narrowed, his gaze not faltering. âAm I? Because from where Iâm standing, youâre acting like a guy whoâs desperately trying to convince himself of something he doesnât even believe.â
âWooyoungââ
âHongjoong, you canât keep lying to yourself.â Wooyoungâs tone softened, his voice carrying a gentleness that seemed to cut deeper than the words themselves. âLook, I donât know what happened between you two, but I do know that you care about her. Youâre not fooling anyone by pretending this distance is âbetterâ for either of you.â
Hongjoongâs patience began to fray, his frustration morphing into anger. He shot Wooyoung a glare, his voice rising. âIt is better, Wooyoung. She⊠she deserves better. She doesnât need to be pulled into whatever mess I am.â He paused, catching his breath, his anger mingling with something closer to desperation. âIâm not whatâs best for her. And itâs better for the both of us if I keep my distance.â
Wooyoungâs expression shifted, his gaze hardening as he stepped closer, unwilling to let Hongjoong brush him off. âSo, what? You think pushing her away, acting like she means nothing, is somehow good for her? You really think sheâs better off without you?â
âYes,â Hongjoong replied, his tone final, but the conviction in his voice was starting to waver.
Wooyoung gave him a long, scrutinizing look, and for a moment, the silence between them was thick with unspoken truths. Then, Wooyoung shook his head slowly. âYouâre lying to yourself. And honestly? Itâs pathetic, Hongjoong. Iâve never seen you like this before.â
The words hit Hongjoong like a slap, and a flash of anger surged within him, simmering beneath the surface. âYou donât know what youâre talking about,â he muttered, his voice low and strained. âIâm doing this for her, so just⊠stop.â
But Wooyoung wouldnât relent. âYouâre not doing this for her. Youâre doing this because youâre afraid. Afraid to admit how much she means to you. Afraid of what might happen if you actually let her in. Whatever youâre afraid of, whatever you think is keeping you from being with her⊠maybe itâs worth rethinking. Because if you keep running like this, youâre going to lose her. And then what?â
Hongjoong felt his control slipping, the carefully constructed barriers heâd built starting to crack under the weight of Wooyoungâs words. He clenched his fists, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to keep his voice steady. âThis isnât about fear.â
âIsnât it?â Wooyoungâs voice softened, a hint of understanding breaking through the frustration. âHongjoong⊠I get it. Youâre scared of losing yourself. Of losing control. But sheâs not the one whoâs going to make that happen. You are, by doing this. By trying so hard to keep her out.â
Hongjoong stayed silent, his chest tightening as Wooyoungâs words began to sink in. He wanted to deny it, to push back with the same conviction heâd clung to for weeks, but he couldnât. Because deep down, he knew there was truth in Wooyoungâs words.
Finally, Wooyoung let out a sigh, his tone softening even further. âListen, man. I donât know what almost happened, or why youâre so determined to stay away from her, but you have to ask yourself⊠is this really what you want?â
Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind flashing back to that night in your apartmentâthe feeling of your hand brushing his, the way your gaze had lingered on him, the unspoken tension that had nearly pulled him into something he couldnât name. Heâd wanted so badly to close that distance, to feel your lips against his, to let go of the fear and doubt that had held him back. But just as heâd leaned closer, Wooyoungâs call had snapped him out of the moment, bringing him crashing back to reality.
âDo you even understand how much sheâs hurting, Hongjoong?â And there it was againâthe harshness in Wooyoungâs tone. âSeonghwa told me sheâs tearing herself apart over this. She doesnât eat right anymore, and she barely even sleeps. She spends her nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering where things went wrong, wondering if sheâs the problem.â
The words landed like a punch to Hongjoongâs gut, leaving him breathless. Images of you flashed through his mindâmoments when heâd caught glimpses of your smile faltering, your laughter quieting, the spark in your eyes dimming little by little. Heâd told himself it was just his imagination, that you were fine. But Wooyoungâs words shattered that illusion entirely.
âShe thinks she did something wrong, Hongjoong,â Wooyoung continued, his voice filled with barely contained anger. âShe actually believes sheâs the reason youâre running. Every time you disappear, every time you pull away, she thinks itâs because of something she did. And the worst part? She doesnât even blame you. She blames herself.â
Hongjoongâs fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as guilt clawed at him.
âSeonghwa told me she asked him if she was too much. Can you believe that?â Wooyoungâs voice cracked. âShe actually thinks sheâs too much for you. That sheâs somehow burdening you, dragging you down. Sheâs convinced herself that if she were just⊠less, maybe you wouldnât be running.â
Hongjoongâs breath hitched, a wave of nausea rolling over him as he realized the full extent of the pain heâd caused. Youâwho had always been so vibrant, so unapologetically yourselfâwere now questioning every part of who you were, trying to shrink yourself down to avoid scaring him away.
âSheâs not even angry at you, Hongjoong,â Wooyoung said, his voice barely above a whisper now, each word a dagger aimed straight at Hongjoongâs heart. âShe doesnât hate you for this. She just⊠she thinks sheâs not enough. Or that sheâs too much. Either way, sheâs convinced that sheâs the problem.â
Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind reeling. He could feel the anchor of your pain weighing down on him; Heâd done this to youâturned you into a shadow of yourself, left you grappling with doubts and insecurities that werenât yours to bear.
âYouâve been so busy hiding behind your own fears,â Wooyoung continued, âthat you havenât even stopped to consider what this is doing to her. Youâre so terrified of being hurt again that youâre hurting herâover and over, every day, with every step you take away from her.â
Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say to justify this? How could he explain that heâd been running not to hurt you, but to protect himself? It sounded so selfish, so small in the face of everything you were going through.
âAnd you know whatâs really twisted?â Wooyoungâs voice dropped, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. âSheâd take you back in a heartbeat. Despite everything, sheâd still look at you the same way she did before you started pushing her away. Sheâd still forgive you, still try to see the good in you, because thatâs who she is. Thatâs how much she cares.â
Hongjoong felt something break inside him, a quiet, shattering realization that left him reeling. You would forgive him. He knew that. He could see it in his mindâthe way youâd smile softly, the way your eyes would fill with understanding, even now. Even after everything, youâd welcome him back, arms open, heart exposed, waiting.
âShe deserves better, Joong.â Wooyoungâs words were softer now, the anger replaced by a raw, unfiltered honesty. âShe deserves someone who doesnât make her question her worth. Someone who doesnât make her feel like sheâs somehow wrong just for being herself. And if you canât be that for her⊠if youâre too wrapped up in your own fears to let her in⊠then you need to let her go.â
Hongjoongâs chest tightened, a hollow ache spreading through him as he struggled to process it all. He didnât want to let you go. He couldnât. But the thought of holding onto you only to keep hurting you, to keep dragging you through his own tangled web of insecurities and fearsâit was unbearable.
âSheâs barely holding up. She hides it well, but Seonghwa can see it. He told me how she sits alone for hours, just staring off into space, like sheâs lost something she canât find. She keeps her phone close, hoping maybe, just maybe, youâll reach out. But every time you donât... it breaks her a little more.â
Hongjoongâs chest tightened painfully, each word slicing through him like a blade. He could see it so clearly now, every painful moment heâd forced you through. How you mustâve waited for messages that never came, mustâve spent countless nights wondering where things had gone wrong. The thought of you sitting there, lost in your own pain, while heâd been so focused on his own fears, was more than he could bear.
âAnd donât think she hasnât tried to talk to you.â Wooyoungâs voice turned sharp, accusatory. âSeonghwa told me how many times sheâs wanted to reach out, just to make sure youâre okay, just to see if youâd give her even a scrap of reassurance. But every time, she stops herself. She doesnât want to bother you, doesnât want to seem needy. Sheâs holding back everything she feels because sheâs afraid itâll push you further away.â
Wooyoungâs eyes softened slightly, but the fire of his conviction remained. âYou need to understand, Hongjoong. This isnât just about you anymore. Itâs about her too. Youâre hurting her, and if you donât start realizing that, itâll be too late. Sheâs going to break, and I donât think sheâll come back from it.â
Hongjoong felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. The thought of you shattering into pieces because of his cowardice was unbearable. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, to say that he was doing this for you, for the both of you. But deep down, he knew it was a lie. He was only trying to shield himself from the fear of loss, the same fear that had haunted him since that girl from his past had walked away.
âI canât⊠I canât lose anyone again, Woo,â Hongjoong finally admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. âWhat if she sees me for who I really am? What if she realizes Iâm not worth it?â
Wooyoung shook his head, frustration flashing across his features. âThatâs where youâre wrong. She already sees you, and she loves you for all the parts youâre trying to hide. You think youâre protecting her by staying away, but youâre only pushing her further into despair.â
Hongjoongâs heart raced, a whirlwind of emotions colliding within him. âHow do you know? How do you know she feels that way?â
âBecause Iâve talked to Seonghwa, and he cares about her, Joong! Heâs seen her cry over you. He told me she broke down one night, just sitting on the floor of her room, wondering why you were so distant. She kept saying she mustâve done something wrong. Do you want that for her? Do you want to be the reason she loses herself?â
The image of you curled up alone, tears streaming down your face while grappling with your worth, sliced through Hongjoong. The sheer guilt of it settled heavily in his chest, suffocating him. He had wanted to protect you, but in doing so, he had only hurt you more.
Hongjoong lingered in silence, the weight of his unspoken fears casting a shadow over the room. He could feel Wooyoungâs gaze on him, a
persistent pressure urging him to confront the thoughts heâd been too afraid to voice.
âWhat ifâŠâ The words caught in his throat, his voice strained with the vulnerability he couldnât hide. âWhat if I take the next step, and she leaves? What if she ends up leaving just likeââ
Wooyoung interrupted him by reaching forward, pressing his fingers gently but firmly to Hongjoongâs lips, shushing him with an authority that surprised them both. âI know what comes next, Hongjoong,â he murmured. âYou donât need to say it.â
Hongjoong stiffened, pulling back ever so slightly, a touch of annoyance flickering across his face. âYou think itâs that simple?â he muttered, frustration bleeding into his voice. âYou think itâs easy to just⊠forget?â
Wooyoungâs expression softened, though he held firm. âI think youâre holding onto something thatâs long gone, Joong. And youâre letting it get in the way of something real.â He paused, leaning forward. âSo what if the girl you loved back in middle school left you? Youâre still letting her be the one who decides what happens now?â
Hongjoongâs mouth opened, then closed, his defenses crumbling under Wooyoungâs scrutiny. He could feel the words bubbling up, the excuses heâd used to justify his fears over and over, but this time, they didnât come. The silence between them grew heavier, and he felt himself shrinking under Wooyoungâs eyes.
âItâs not about her,â Hongjoong finally managed, his voice a strained whisper. âItâs just⊠this was exactly how it started back then. The same moments, the same feelings, and thenâŠâ His voice broke, a haunted look creeping into his eyes as the memories clawed their way to the surface. âAnd then it all just fell apart the moment she left without a word.â
Wooyoungâs expression softened, his gaze filled with something close to sympathy, but there was no pity there, only an understanding forged through years of friendship. âJoong,â he said softly, leaning even closer as if he could bridge the distance that Hongjoong had placed between himself and everyone around him. âSo what if some things feel familiar? Theyâre not the same person, are they? Youâre not the same person, either.â
Hongjoong clenched his jaw, a flicker of anger sparking in his chest as he searched for a way to deflect, to deny the truth in Wooyoungâs words. âItâs⊠itâs not like that, Woo. You donât get it.â His voice grew sharper, frustration edging his tone as he tried to hold onto the walls heâd built.
Wooyoung shook his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. âReally? Because it doesnât look that way to me.â
Hongjoong looked away, his gaze hardening as he stared at the floor. âItâs not that simple, okay? You donât know what itâs like to⊠to risk everything and then lose it.â
Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. âHongjoong, I may not know exactly what you went through, but I do know one thing: youâre letting something from the past dictate your future. And thatâs not fair. Not to you, and definitely not to her.â
Hongjoongâs shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as he felt the weight of Wooyoungâs words settle over him. Part of him wanted to argue, to cling to the fears that had kept him guarded for so long, but another partâa part heâd buried deepâknew that Wooyoung was right.
âWhat if I let myself try?â His voice was barely above a whisper, his words laden with the weight of years of doubt and self-preservation. âWhat if⊠what if I take that risk, and she ends up leaving?â
Wooyoungâs gaze softened, and he leaned forward, resting a reassuring hand on Hongjoongâs shoulder. âJoong, if sheâs really the person you believe she is⊠then maybe itâs a risk worth taking. Because people leave, yeah. They walk away. But the ones who matter, the ones who are meant to stayâthey wonât go anywhere.â
âYouâre saying I should just⊠trust that?â His voice wavered, the question more for himself than for Wooyoung, as if he needed to convince himself that he could still believe in something other than his own fears.
Wooyoungâs mouth curved into a gentle, understanding smile. âYeah. Trust it. Donât let something thatâs already gone keep you from what could be right here, right now.â
âWhat if I let her in? What if I let her see the real me? What if itâs not enough?â
âThen you fight for her,â Wooyoung replied. âYou show her every day that sheâs enough. You fight for her instead of running away. You have to be brave enough to take the risk, Joong. And if she does leave, at least youâll know you tried. You canât live in the shadow of your past forever.â
âBut what if she sees me as weak?â Hongjoong countered, bitterness lacing his tone. âWhat if she thinks Iâm broken?â
âThen you show her that even broken pieces can fit together to make something beautiful,â Wooyoung shot back. âYouâve built this wall around yourself, but youâre just hurting the one person whoâs tried to break through. You need to trust her. You need to let her help you. She wants to be there for you, but you have to meet her halfway.â
The truth of those words echoed painfully in Hongjoongâs mind. He had been running, terrified of the vulnerability that came with love, terrified of the chance that he could be left once more. But he could feel the edges of that fear beginning to fray under the weight of his guilt, unraveling with every word Wooyoung spoke.
âYou canât let the past dictate your present, Hongjoong,â Wooyoung said, his voice softer now, a mixture of empathy and frustration. âYou canât keep running away from what you feel. If you do, youâll end up losing her, and itâll be your fault.â
Hongjoongâs heart raced as he thought of youâhow you had lit up his life in ways he never thought possible. How your laughter had become a soothing balm to his weary soul. He couldnât keep ignoring the truth that was staring him in the face. The realization washed over him like a cold wave. âWhat am I supposed to do?â Hongjoong whispered.
âFight for her, Joong. Show her that youâre not afraid. Be honest with her, and donât let fear win this time.â Wooyoung leaned closer. âShe deserves that much, at the very least. Fight for herâbefore itâs too late.â
âBut what if it already is?â
đȘ â lividstar.
PAUSE HALF OF HIS LIFE?!?!?
alright, so reader is slowly remembering hate the fact that itâs a memory where yunho is mad
Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 6.9K Warnings: swearing, mentions of missing persons, fluff
Fic Masterlist
Yunho lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as the quiet sounds of the night settled around him. His mind, however, refused to follow suit. No matter how tired his body was, his thoughts spun endlessly, circling back to the shopâand more specifically, to you.
He was excited at the thought of seeing you again. It hadnât been that long since he returned to Seoul, but the pull to visit the Emporium had been growing stronger with each passing day. He could already picture you behind the counter, scolding Wooyoung for his antics, before turning to greet him with that knowing smile, as if you had been expecting him all along. Whatever the reason, the thought of seeing you again filled him with a strange, almost giddy anticipation.
Still, there was a feeling he couldn't quite shake.The more he thought about it, the clearer it becameâyou were always there. It didn't seem strange at first. He had assumed it was just part of your role, that the shop was your domain. But now, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Have you ever left?
Wooyoung could move freely, coming and going as he pleased, yet you seemed bound to that strange, magical space.
Yunho turned over, restless now, staring at the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit. The shop seemed to be both your sanctuary and your prison, and the realization gnawed at him, unsettling him more than anything else.
Why couldnât you leave? What kind of magic was holding you there?Â
His phone buzzed on the table, a faint vibration cutting through the silence. Without even glancing at the screen, Yunho already knew who it was. He sat up, grabbing it with a sigh as he swiped to answer.
âHey,â Yunho greeted, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder.Â
âYou see the news?â Gunhoâs voice crackled through the line, more concerned than curious.
Yunho froze, his grip on the phone tightening as dread settled like a heavy weight in his chest. âWhat news?âÂ
Scrambling to his feet, he headed into the living room, nearly stumbling over the coffee table as he rushed to turn on the TV. The familiar black screen flickered to life, and there it was. The words scrolled across the bottom of the screen:
Family of Lee Y/N files for legal declaration of death after three years with no leads.
âTonight, we bring you a heartbreaking update on the mysterious disappearance of Lee Y/N, a case that has gripped the nation for three agonizing years. With no trace, no leads, and no answers, her family has taken the devastating step of filing a formal request with the courts to have her legally declared deceased.â
âThis move marks the conclusion of a relentless search that began with hope but has since dwindled to this painful reality. For her loved ones, itâs not just the end of an investigationâitâs the closing chapter on three years of desperate prayers and unanswered questions.â
âIn a heartfelt written statement, the family conveyed the grief that has consumed them since Y/Nâs disappearance and the painful decision theyâve made to file with the courts to have her declared legally deceased:
"Over the last three years, not a single day has passed where we didnât hold on to hope, praying for Y/Nâs return. But as time has gone by, weâve had to face the heartbreaking reality that we may never get the closure we so desperately need. This decision isn't about giving up on Y/N or what she means to us. Itâs about finding a way to survive in a world that no longer includes her.Â
We will always love our daughter. She will forever be a part of our lives, and this is something we will carry with us for the rest of our days. This is the hardest thing weâve ever had to do, and is a step we need to take to begin the healing processâfor her, and for us."
A heavy pause lingered between them before Gunhoâs voice cut through the silence.Â
âI didnât think theyâd go through with itâŠbut I guess they couldnât wait anymore.â
"Yeah," Yunho muttered, though his voice was hollow. His fists clenched, knuckles turning white. It wasnât fair. You were alive, breathing, movingâexisting in that shop. But no one would believe it if he told them. The world ran on facts, on things that could be touched, proven, explainedâand the shop was none of those things. It wasnât on any map, couldnât be found by search parties or missing persons reports.
To everyone else, the shop didnât exist. And even if he wanted to tell your parents, what would he say?
"Oh, by the way, your daughter is alive, just running a magical shop that only I can find. She doesnât remember anything about her past life with you. But donât worry, sheâs doing just fine!"Â
The thought made him sick. If he said it out loud, heâd be dismissed as crazyâor worse, cruel.Â
The shop might have been magical, but it was also a prison. He saw that now. A beautiful, mysterious prison that kept you chained, hidden from the world. And no matter how much he wanted to free you, to bring you back to the life you once had, he couldnât force you out. You were bound by something deeper than magicâbound by your own pain, and your decision to forget.
âMom and Dad went over to their house after they came back from the courthouse,â Gunho interrupted, his voice softening with a layer of sympathy Yunho wasnât sure he was ready to handle. âMr. Lee couldnât stop crying.â
Yunhoâs heart ached with the impossibility of it all. Your fatherâs tears, your motherâs quiet grief, the hollowed-out home where life had once thrivedâthey deserved closure, peace. But the truth wouldnât give them that. It would only raise more questions, more pain.
He remembered the first time heâd visited your parentsâ house after you disappeared. The warm, inviting home heâd known all his life felt cold, lifeless. The laughter that once filled the rooms, the scent of your momâs cooking, the familiar hum of conversationâall of it was gone. Instead, there was only silence.Â
And then there was your father.
Your father had always been a man full of energy, always quick to joke, quick to offer a smile. But that day, it was as if your disappearance had drained the life out of him, leaving behind a shell of the man who once doted on his daughter.Â
Yunho could still see the way your fatherâs shoulders slumped as he led him up to your room, barely uttering a word. He had commented on the plush Yunho picked up before retreating quietly, disappearing into the background like a ghost in his own home.
He clenched his jaw, the frustration bubbling up inside him. All he could do was carry the weight of the secret, knowing that no matter how much he wanted to fix it, some things were beyond his control. The shop had taken you, and in doing so, it had taken the light from your family as well.
âCan you tell them IâmâŠsorry. Just that Iâm so sorry for everything.â
âWhat are you apologizing for?â Gunho asked, Yunho could hear the frown in his brotherâs voice.
What was he even apologizing for? For disappearing from their lives when they needed him most? For not being able to protect you? The truth was, he didnât know where to start. Every regret, every moment of helplessness, crushed him under a guilt he could never fully articulate.
He had been there that dayâthe day you vanished. He had argued with you, had seen the way your expression darkened, the way your eyes filled with sadness, and yet he didnât stop. He thought youâd come back, that you just needed space after the argument. But when you didnât, when the days stretched into weeks, then monthsâŠYunho had no one to blame but himself.
Your parents had reached out, desperate, but he was just as lost as they were. They had looked to him for answers, for some kind of hope, and he had none to offer. He had failed them. And now, knowing where you wereâwhat you had becomeâmade it even worse.
âI should have done more,â Yunho muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. âI shouldâve been there for them. AndâŠI donât know how to do anything else, but the least I can do is apologize and let them know that Iâm alsoâŠmissing Y/N.â
Gunho exhaled deeply. "I'll tell them," he finally said. "But, YunhoâŠyou canât keep carrying this all by yourself. You canât keep punishing yourself for something you couldnât control."
There was a pause, the crackle of the phone line filling the space between them before Yunhoâs voice came back, quieter this time, like he was holding onto his composure by a thread.Â
âI know, but justâŠjust tell them for me. Please.â
Gunho exhaled, pressing the phone harder against his ear as if it could bring him closer to Yunho in that moment. âI will,â he said, his voice softer, filled with understanding.Â
"Before you go," Yunho started, the words faltering for a second, "I need you to do me a favor."
â
That night, Yunho's sleep was anything but peaceful.
He stood in a grand throne room, its towering pillars casting long, imposing shadows that stretched out in the throne room like hands. The crimson red robe he donned felt suffocating, the weight of it unfamiliar, as if it didnât belong to him. The heavy crown pressed down on his brow, making every breath feel like a struggle.Â
Before him, you knelt on the cold stone floor, your wrists bound by iron shackles that clinked softly with each subtle movement. You were a shadow of the person he once knew. Gone were the bright, flowing robes you once wore, replaced by tattered prisonerâs clothes, sullied with the grime of the dungeon from which you had been dragged. Yunhoâs breath hitched in his throat as he watched you kneel before him. It felt wrong. All of this feels wrong.
âLady Lee Y/N,â the herald intoned, his voice cold and unfeeling, âyou stand accused of high treason for the poisoning of Queen Mina.â
Whispers broke out amongst the members of the court, eyes darting between you and the throne. Yunhoâs fingers tightened around the throneâs armrests, his knuckles whitening under the pressure as a sharp pain coiled in his chest. Treason? His mind screamed, desperate to reject what he was hearing.Â
He had been told it was you, that all the evidence pointed to you. But as he looked into your hollow gaze, every fiber of his being rejected it. You couldnât have done this. You wouldnât have.
You were framed. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. But what choice did he have? The kingdom demanded justice, demanded blood. If he refused to follow the law, what would that mean for the throne he had been sworn to uphold?
âYour crime,â the herald continued, his voice carrying an almost sickening indifference, âhas brought great shame to this kingdom and your family. For that, you have been sentenced to death by execution, to take place before the court in a fortnight.â
Yunhoâs chest tightened. The heraldâs words hung in the air like a death sentence for his own soul. He could feel the weight of every nobleâs gaze on him, waiting for his verdict, waiting for him to condemn you. But his heart screamed in protest. His mind raced, searching for some way out, some way to save you. His pulse pounded in his ears as time seemed to stretch agonizingly slow.
You lifted your head slowly, your movements heavy as though the weight of the shackles was nothing compared to the sorrow in your heart. When your eyes finally met Yunhoâs, the world seemed to stop.Â
Your lips parted, as if you were about to speak. For a brief second, Yunho held his breath, hopingâprayingâthat you would plead your innocence, that you would give him a reason, any reason, to defy the sentence that had already been handed down. But no words came.
Instead, your eyes told him everything. They bore into him with a clarity that words never could, a silent plea that tore at his heart. They were filled with pain, but not the kind he expectedânot the sorrow of a victim pleading for mercy. No, your gaze held a different kind of anguish, one that Yunho had not anticipated.
You werenât asking him to save you. You werenât asking for forgiveness.
You were asking him to let you go.
Yunho gasped, his chest heaving as he shot upright in bed. His heart pounded violently as his breath came in ragged bursts, the air thick in his lungs as if he was still trapped in the throne room.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image of youâkneeling, broken, pleading silently for releaseâto fade. But it wouldnât. It felt too real to be more than just a nightmareâit had felt like a memory, like something he was doomed to repeat over and over, and no matter how much he wanted to change it, the outcome would always be the same.
Yunho paced around the kitchen, his brow furrowed in deep thought as he struggled to figure out how he was going to find the emporium in Seoul. Every lap around the room seemed to bring him closer to a resolution, but it still eluded him.
He knew the emporium was no ordinary shopâits location obscured from anyone who didnât truly need to find it. But Yunho needed to find it, more now than ever. The problem was, the shop didnât care about urgency.
Wooyoung, lounging lazily on the kitchen counter, tracked Yunhoâs movements with mild curiosity. His casual demeanor was a stark contrast to Yunhoâs anxious pacing as he let out another yawn and preened his face.Â
"Youâre going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up," Wooyoung finally said with a yawn.
Yunho stopped mid-step, standing at the edge of the kitchen, his shoulders tense. "Wooyoung," he began, his voice faltering slightly. He wasnât used to thisâasking for help, especially not from Wooyoung. But desperation gnawed at him, and he didnât have the luxury of pride right now.Â
"I...I need to ask you something."
Wooyoungâs ears perked up. He sat up on his haunches, his gray eyes gleaming with mischief as they locked onto Yunho.Â
âThis must be serious," he smirked, the teasing glint in his eyes only growing sharper, but Yunho didnât back down.
"Y/N canât leave the shop can she?â
Wooyoung paused, his eyes flicking to the floor before locking onto Yunhoâs again. âWell...no. Wishes arenât simple and they sometimes come with consequences.â
âConsequences?â
âShe asked to be its keeper,â Wooyoung continued, his voice serious, without a trace of his usual playfulness. âAnd thatâs not a simple role. The emporium is not just some shop. Itâs alive, connected to realms and forces you canât even begin to comprehend. For her to keep it running, for her to maintain its balance, she had to become part of it. And that meant binding her, not just magically but physically, to the shop.â
âThen I need to find the Emporium in Seoul,â Yunho said, his voice firm and resolute. But even as the words left his mouth, a shadow of doubt crept in. He hesitated for just a moment, and the question followed before he could stop it: âBut...where do I even start?â
âWell⊠for starters, magic is all about feeling,â Wooyoung began, his tone light and almost mocking, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.
âWhat do you mean?â
"Let me ask you this," he said, voice dropping to a whisper. "Is your love for my master not enough?"
Yunhoâs eyes widened, frustration and embarrassment written all over his face. âThatâs notâ!â His voice cracked before he caught himself, but the heat was already there, his cheeks flushing with anger. âOf course I love Y/N! How could you even say that?â
Wooyoung tilted his head, studying Yunho with a smug satisfaction, as if he had anticipated this exact reaction. "Then why are you so hesitant?" he asked.
"Iâm not hesitant," Yunho said, his voice tinged with frustration. "I just donât know what I did last time to summon the shop.â
Wooyoung sighed dramatically, hopping off the counter and landing gracefully at Yunhoâs feet.Â
âYouâre so busy doing that youâve forgotten to feel. If you know where your heart lies, the emporium will open itself to you. If you were really that connected to Y/N, maybe your love would be enough to guide you back. Without my help.â
Wooyoungâs words felt like a taunt, poking at insecurities Yunho hadnât even been ready to admit. Was there something wrong with him? Was his love for you not enough? Had he been too caught up in the chaos of everything to feel what was right in front of him?
Yunho took a deep breath, letting the tension in his shoulders slowly unwind. His mind was still racing, but the sharp edges of his frustration dulled slightly.Â
"So what do I do, then?" he asked, his voice quieter now, less defensive.
Wooyoung stretched out, jumping down from the counter to land at Yunhoâs feet. "Trust your connection with Y/N. Stop trying to find it with your head," he said simply. "And start searching with your heart."
Yunho left his apartment with a determined stride, the weight of your journal tucked carefully under his arm. The familiar hum of the city surrounded himâcars honking, distant conversations, the faint sizzle of street food vendors still open at this late hour. But tonight, none of it registered in his mind. His focus was singular, every thought of you pulling him forward like a string tied to his heart.
As he wound through the narrow streets, his steps quickened. He didnât have a map, not a physical one, at least. The journal he carried wasnât a guide to the emporium, but it was the closest thing he had to your lifeline. Your drawings were there, etched on the pages, a snapshot to your life and the bond you shared with him. He could almost feel your presence with him as he walked.
With every turn, the pull toward you grew stronger, an invisible force guiding him. He didnât know where he was goingâonly that he had to keep moving. Then, as he rounded a corner, a strange sense of familiarity washed over him.Â
There was something about this path, this particular stretch of roadâŠ
His eyes widened in recognition as he stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead of them, just across the street, stood the entrance to where you both had attended university. Yunhoâs breath caught in his throat. He hadnât been back here in yearsânot since he graduated.Â
Wooyoung, who had been trailing lazily behind him, stopped beside Yunho, his keen eyes picking up on the sudden shift in Yunhoâs expression. He followed Yunhoâs gaze, a slow smirk creeping onto his face as he glanced between Yunho and the familiar sight ahead.Â
âWell, would you look at that,â he mused, his voice light but carrying a note of something deeperâsomething knowing. âSeems like youâve got a better sense of direction than I thought.â
Wooyoung turned to Yunho, a familiar glint of mischief lighting up his eyes as he leaned against a lamppost. "So, what's the grand plan when you get there, huh?" he asked, his voice teasing, laced with amusement. "You planning to storm in like a hero and declare your undying love for my master? Sweep her off her feet?"
Yunho shook his head, his lips tightening into a thin line, his gaze firmly fixed on the path ahead. "N-No⊠not exactly," he muttered, his voice quiet but steady.
âI want to make my wish."
Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The teasing smirk on his face softened ever so slightly, though the playfulness didnât completely vanish.Â
"A wish, huh? And what exactly would that be?" He knew Yunho too well to take him at face value. Something had shifted in Yunhoâthis wasnât just about him anymore.
Yunho didnât answer right away. As he stood there, in the quiet night of Seoul, with the lights of the city dimming behind them, the gravity of what he wanted finally settled in. It wasnât just about seeing you again. It wasnât about selfishly pulling you back into his world, forcing memories to resurface, or desperately trying to rekindle what once was.
No, Yunho wanted something deeper. He wanted something for you.
"I want her to be free," Yunho finally said, his voice breaking the silence between them. "I want Y/N to be free. Not bound to that place.â
Wooyoung studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if he were reevaluating everything he thought he knew about Yunhoâs intentions. He had expected him to want something else, something more...predictable. Like wanting you to remember him, to rekindle your past and continue where things left off. But this? This was different. And for the first time, Wooyoung found himself... impressed.
Yunhoâs heart pounded in his chest as he approached the familiar door, nestled between the soba shop and the weathered bookshop that always seemed deserted. The floral overhang above the door swayed gently, an ethereal presence that almost seemed to hum in recognition of his arrival. The soft pull in his chest was undeniable now, a subtle but persistent thrumming, like a thread drawing him closer to the place beyond the door.
He exhaled slowly, trying to steady the nerves gnawing at him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his resolve, before pushing down on the handle. The door gave way with a soft creak, opening into the emporium.
The shop felt alive, as if it was breathing. Every corner brimming with energy, the air thick with the hum of magic. And there you were, standing in the center of it all.
â
âYunho!â you exclaimed, startled as you caught sight of him standing in the doorway. Your heart skipped a beat, and in your flustered state, you instinctively waved your hand, sending a flurry of objects soaring through the air with your magic.Â
Books shuffled themselves back onto shelves, a teacup hovered briefly before floating to its proper place, and an assortment of crystals and trinkets rearranged themselves with an almost frantic energy.
Yunho blinked, his eyes wide with surprise, though a soft smile tugged at his lips. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the small whirlwind of chaos unfold around you.
You glanced back at Yunho, cheeks flushed as you tried to regain your composure. "I wasnât expectingâuh, I didnât think youâd be here so soon!" Your voice betrayed the nervous flutter in your chest as you hastily used your magic to smooth down your clothes, attempting to look more presentable.
âI didnât mean to catch you off guard,â he said, his voice warm and a little teasing.
You forced a light laugh, waving your hand dismissively even as the warmth on your cheeks spread further.
âNo, no, itâs fine. The shop usually isnât this chaotic. Itâs justâŠâ You narrowed your eyes toward the mischievous figure who trotted past. âSomeone decided to take a little vacation, leaving me to tend to the place alone.â
âI earned that vacation,â Wooyoung quipped, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as he hopped up onto a nearby shelf. He stretched leisurely, clearly unbothered by your pointed stare.Â
âBesides, youâve got it under controlâŠmostly.â
"Mostly?" You turned back to Yunho, mortified that heâd arrived to find you in the middle of what probably looked like absolute chaos. Shelves were haphazardly filled, some items glowing faintly with residual magic as if they hadnât quite settled into their places, and the air smelled faintly of incense mixed withâŠsomething else. Something you didnât have time to figure out right now.
âYou donât need to apologize,â he said quietly. âI didnât come here expecting anything perfect, Iâm just keeping to my word.â
For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you two, the room now still and quiet after the flurry of activity. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldnât come.
Wooyoung cleared his throat dramatically from the shelf, breaking the tension in the room. âWell, since Iâm obviously not needed here, Iâll be going on another vacation. You two have fun playing shopkeeper and traveler,â he teased with a wink before disappearing into a wisp of smoke.Â
With Wooyoung gone, the shop fell into stillness. The warmth of Yunhoâs presence closed in on you and somehow the absence of your feline companion made the space feel larger, yet somehow more intimate. Every breath, every heartbeat, seemed amplified in the silence that had settled over the shop. It was just you and Yunho.
"Iâve decided what to wish for."
Yunho's voice was soft but unwavering as he took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours.Â
"O-Of course. What might that be?" you asked, your voice faltering slightly. You fought to keep it steady, but something in the way Yunho looked at youâthe depth of his gaze, the quiet intensityâmade your heart race faster than you cared to admit.
"Your freedom."
Two simple words, but they hit you like a storm. The world around you seemed to still, the very air filled with the magnitude of what heâd just said. Your freedom. The one thing you never thought anyone could give you, let alone offer so willingly.Â
"Yunho..."Â
âI want you to be able to come and go as you please, to live your life without the magic chaining you to this place." He stepped closer still, and now you could feel the warmth radiating from him.Â
"Iâm willing to offer half of my life in exchange if thatâs what it takes."
You blinked, your breath catching as his words sank in. Half of his life? The enormity of his offer was staggering, and for a moment, you couldnât even comprehend it.Â
"Why would you..." you stammered, your voice shaking with disbelief. "Why would you do that forâŠme? Thatâsâ"
"You deserve to be free, Y/N," he whispered, his voice tender but resolute. "And if this is the way to make that happen, then Iâll gladly pay the price."
The very atmosphere of the emporium shifted in response, as if the magic within its walls had taken notice of his declaration. The shop creaked ominously, its magic swelling as though it, too, was contemplating Yunhoâs wish. The lanterns overhead flickered, casting erratic shadows across the room, and the flowers hanging from the sky garden above swayed in unison.
"Ahem!" came an exaggerated throat clearing.Â
Both you and Yunho jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion. Hongjoong stood casually leaning against the frame, arms crossed, a single brow arched surrounded by wisps of glittering smoke curled lazily around him.
You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, the intensity of the moment broken by his nonchalant interruption. Yunho, on the other hand, remained frozen for a brief second, visibly caught off guard. His jaw tightened, but the initial shock melted into a look of mild exasperation, a heavy sigh slipping from his lips.
Hongjoongâs smirk deepened, thoroughly unbothered by the silent glares he was receiving.Â
"You were about to do something reckless," he remarked, his voice light but edged with a knowing sharpness.Â
Yunhoâs brow furrowed, his voice tight with determination. âI know what Iâm doing. This is my choice.â
âHalf of your life?ââ Hongjoong paused, casting a pointed glance at the both of you.Â
Hongjoong wasnât one to interfere without reason, but the way he spoke of the emporiumâs magic made your stomach churn with unease. Yunhoâs wish was far more dangerous than either of you had realized.
"Yunhoâs wishâ" you began, your voice barely a whisper, but Hongjoong cut you off with a swift raise of his hand.
âIs admirable,â he finished for you, his tone softening for only a fraction of a second before turning sharp again, âbut dangerously naive.âÂ
âThe magic here doesnât bargain in simple terms,â Hongjoong continued, his voice dropping low, the gravity of his words pulling the room into silence. âYou canât just offer up half of your life and expect everything to fall neatly into place. There are rules, consequencesâones that donât care about the nobility of your intentions.â
Yunho blinked, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
âIf you do this, you wonât just be giving up years of your life. Youâll be binding giving up your soul, your essence. The magic will take from you in ways you canât predict or undo.â
Hongjoongâs faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a rare flicker of humor breaking through his usually composed demeanor. He straightened up, crossing his arms casually as he studied Yunho.Â
âThatâs Y/Nâs journal, isnât it?â Hongjoong asked, his voice soft yet deliberate. He didnât need an answerâhe already knew.
Yunho stiffened slightly, instinctively bringing a hand to his chest where a corner of something protruded from the edge of his jacket. The memories it contained, the emotions inscribed within its pages, were too personal, too sacred to be used as collateral for anything. The mere thought of it made him uneasy.
âYou know,â Hongjoong began thoughtfully, âmagic thrives on more than just time or years of your life.â His eyes flicked meaningfully toward the journal. âIt craves something deeperâemotions, memoriesâŠthe essence of who we are."
âWhat are you saying?â Yunho demanded.
âIâm saying you might want to reconsider the offer. Y/Nâs journalâthose memories, those emotionsâit holds far more value than any number of years you could offer.â
Your pulse quickened. You didnât remember anything about the journal, couldnât recall the emotions or thoughts tied to the pages of ink. And yet, knowing that it carried fragments of your pastâmemories that could belong to you but were now lostâstirred something deep within you.Â
"MyâŠjournal?" you asked, puzzled as you stared at the worn leather book in Yunhoâs hands. It felt foreign, almost surreal, to see it again.
âI promised to tell you the truth about your past andâŠabout us.â His voice faltered briefly as the enormity of that promise washed over him. âI brought this,â he continued, finally pulling the worn journal from his jacket, âbecause it was important to you. And I thoughtâŠmaybe it could help you remember.â
Yunhoâs fingers lightly brushed over the journal, his expression softening as he looked at it. âItâs full of your drawings. You used to sketch everythingâplaces we went, people we metâeverything. You captured things no one else noticed, things I didnât notice until I saw them through your eyes.â He swallowed hard, his gaze shifting back to you.Â
âYou always saw me better than I saw myself.â
He handed you the journal, his hands steady but his heart pounding. "I thought if you saw your own artâsaw what you felt, what you capturedâmaybe... maybe you'd remember something, even just a piece of who you were."
Your fingers trembled slightly as you took the journal, feeling the worn leather beneath your fingertips. This book had been with you through so much, carried pieces of you that even you didnât remember anymore. You ran your thumb along the edge of the cover, trying to steady your breath. It felt strangeâholding something that had once been so personal, and now, it was like holding a fragment of someone else's life.
"It feels strange," you admitted, quietly. "Itâs like it belongs to someone else."Â
"I know," he said quietly, his voice gentle yet unwavering. "But this is still you. The person in those pagesâsheâs still here."Â
He reached out, his hand covering yours, and the warmth of his touch steadied you. The slight tremor in your fingers stilled as his presence grounded you, reminding you that, despite everything, you were not alone. You simply stood there, staring at the journal, a relic of a past that seemed unreachable. Was that person really still inside you? Could the pieces of the past be put back together, or had too much been lost?
âThis...is the least I can do for you.â He looked down at the journal in your hands, a symbol of what he was about to give up. His eyes met yours, more intense than youâd ever seen.Â
"Iâm going to make my wish. Iâll give anything to set you free.â
Your breath caught in your throat. Yunhoâs words carried a weight that both terrified and comforted you. He was ready to sacrifice somethingâperhaps everythingâto break the chains that held you to the Emporium.
âIâll grant the wish,â Hongjoong declared, his voice slicing through the heavy silence of the Emporium. His tone was casual, almost amused, but his eyesâsharp and knowingâheld the gravity of what was about to happen.
âNo, let meââ you began, stepping forward instinctively, but Hongjoong cut you off.
âWhatever that toy did to you, it weakened your magic. You canât afford to take chances right now,â he explained softly.Â
You had nearly forgotten about the plush toy in the chaos of recent events. But now, with Hongjoong's reminder, the faint sense of something missing from within you became impossible to ignore. Your magic had indeed felt dim, like a flame trying to burn under water. It left you feeling vulnerable. Unmoored.
You glanced at Yunho, who stood tall and resolute, though the slight tremble in his hands revealed the weight of his decision. The journal remained clutched tightly in his grip, as if he wasnât quite ready to let go. The air around you began to buzz with energy, the edges of magic stirring, making your skin prickle.
Suddenly, the floor beneath Yunho lit up with a radiant glow. Intricate symbolsâancient runes and shimmering patterns of lightâspread out from under his feet, forming a large, pulsating circle that expanded to the edges of the room. The energy in the air vibrated around you, and the ground beneath your feet hummed with power. The magic was alive, swirling and converging, ready to set the impossible in motion.
The magic began to rise, swirling around him like a gentle wind at first, then growing stronger, forming a cyclone of light and energy. The glow intensified, a brilliant vortex that seemed to pulsate with the power of the wish. The journal in his hands began to shine, its pages flickering as if they were coming alive.
You felt a sharp tug at your chest, your own magic reacting to the powerful forces being summoned in the room. It stirred weakly, echoing through your body, as though the emporium itself was waking up, aware of the monumental exchange taking place. The air hummed with a potency that both exhilarated and terrified you.
Then, as quickly as it had risen, the whirl of magic began to dissipate. The light faded, dimming until the room was left in a quiet stillness. The energy that had crackled and swirled just moments ago was gone, leaving only a faint ringing in your ears. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gulps as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. The intense force of the magic had vanished, but something inside you had shifted, changed.
You feltâŠlighter. The sensation was almost surreal, like a weight you hadnât realized you were carrying had suddenly been lifted from your shoulders. In that moment, something inside you brokeâan invisible barrier you hadnât even realized was there.Â
Yunho stood in front of you, his eyes soft yet heavy with concern. He searched your face, as if trying to piece together the puzzle of what you might be feeling.
"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice low and tentative, as though he was afraid of the answer.
For a moment, you didnât respond. You didnât need to. You looked at him, the edges of a smile tugging at your lips, and before you even realized what you were doing, you reached out and poked him lightly on the chest. It was a simple, almost childish gesture, but it broke the tension that had settled over the room.
Yunho blinked, surprised at the sudden touch, but a soft chuckle escaped him. His shoulders eased just a little, and that warm, familiar glow returned to his eyes.Â
That was all it took.Â
Without thinking, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. The embrace was instinctive, natural, as if it had been waiting for this moment. His arms encircled you, pulling you close, holding you as if you were something fragile, something he didnât want to break. In his embrace, you felt a warmth that had been missing for so long.
As you buried your face in his chest, you heard a soft fluttering sound around you. It was faint at first, but then the sound grew louder, like wings beating in the air. You pulled back slightly and looked around the shop.
Pages. The journalâyour journalâhad burst open. Loose pages, filled with memories, sketches, and words, were now swirling through the air, carried by an invisible breeze. The pages brushed past you, each one holding pieces of your past that had been hidden for so long. Sketches of places you vaguely recognized, fragments of conversations you couldnât quite place, and moments that had long since faded from your memory.
Hongjoong stood a little further away, his smile softening into something more tender. He looked on at you and Yunho, with a quiet contentment. His eyes gleamed with pride, not just in satisfaction with the outcome, but as if he had been waiting for this moment all alongâfor you to find your way back to Yunho.
The emporium, the magic, the chaosâit all led to this, and for the first time in a long while, he seemed genuinely at peace.
â
âWell, well, look at you,â Wooyoungâs playful tone rang out, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled in the room. He padded in with his usual feline grace, tail flicking with amusement, his gray eyes gleaming mischievously as they zeroed in on you.
âGetting ready for your date with Yunho?â His voice carried that familiar lilt, half-teasing, half-genuine, that he knew would rile you up.
You shot him an unimpressed look, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you, your cheeks turning pink despite your best efforts to appear unaffected.
âItâs not a date, just an outing.â
Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. âA weekend getaway to the beach isnât an âouting,â he quipped. âCome on, admit itâyouâre looking forward to this.â
You paused, fingers toying with the sleeves of your cardigan. The truth was harder to hide now, and you couldnât help but smileâjust a little.
âMaybe. A little,â you admitted, the butterflies in your stomach betraying the downplay.
But before you could say anything more, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through your head. It came out of nowhere, sudden and intense, like someone had struck you from within. You winced, your hand immediately flying to your temple as the ache intensified. The pain spread like wildfire, spreading until it became almost unbearable.
"Master? Are you okay?" Wooyoungâs playful tone vanished instantly, replaced by genuine concern. He leapt onto your bed with nimble ease, his tail twitching anxiously, his eyes wide with worry.
But you couldnât respond. Your world was spinning, and suddenly, it was as if someone had thrown open the floodgates in your mind. You were standing outside of an apartment complex, your heart pounding. Yunho was there too, looking at you with an expression you couldnât quite placeâhe wasâŠangry. He was saying something, his lips moving, but you were too distracted by the tears stinging your own eyes.Â
âMaster!â Wooyoungâs voice pierced through the chaos, pulling you back to the present. His paw gently pressed against your leg, trying to anchor you. âWhatâs happening, Iâll call for Jonghoââ
âNo,â you interrupted quickly, shaking your head despite the pulsating pain reverberating through your skull. You didnât want to alarm Wooyoung further, didnât want him summoning Jongho over a headache. You forced the words out, struggling to sound convincing.
âNo, Iâm fine. Itâs just a migraine.â
But you werenât fine. Not even close. That memoryâYunho standing there, his face twisted in angerâfelt too real. It wasnât just a fleeting moment or a dream. It was something that had actually happened, though you couldnât recall why. You had forgotten it, buried it so deep that your mind hadnât been able to access it until now. And with it came a flood of confusion and guilt.Â
What had you done to make him look at you like that?
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