#yoon jeonghan imagines

[ressonancee]

I THINK WE MARRIED IN VEGAS

✷ You and Jeonghan have always been friends, and friends go on a trip together, right? And somehow friends always end up marrying in Las Vegas right? And somehow friends become roommates as well right? That all seems very normal when Yoon Jeonghan has a weird addiction to doing the dumbest things ever just for shock value.

✷ genre: comedy (?), angst, smut (minors don't interact)

✷ word count: 28.244

✷ featuring: Yoon Ttoram, Choi Seungcheol, Lee Seokmin, Kim Mingyu as the unnamed satan-spit roommate one night stand, and Xu Minghao as the gothic impasto painter guy. 

✷ thea’s note: hey y’all this is my longest fic yet so I’m weirdly proud. I had fun writing this and trying to figure out how to build this Jeonghan and yes I did rewatched the birth of Ttoram while writing this. By the way - love you guys but the whole credit/debt/buying a house is just for plot I do not know how any of this works in America (and it is mainly set in America because I needed Vegas lol) <3 So bear with it. Also thanks to @wongyuuu for keeping me company in this nanowimo challenge, and thaks to @toruro Mika you are the best <3 thank you for reading this 

✷ Smut warnings under the read more ✷

✷ smut count: lost count of how many times Jeonghan thought he was going to cum on his pant, 1 dick sucked, teenagers level of horniness, non penetrative sex still sex, a lot of kissing, a 3 second of cumplay still a cumplay i guess. 

"Should we do it?" you hear Jeonghan ask, his face focused on something outside the car’s window. The lights of all the neon signs dance on his face and features—like a scene from a movie. He looks tired and overworked even though you are somewhat on vacation.

"Do what?" you ask, trying to understand what he meant. Maybe he was talking about a hotel spa and you missed the beginning of the sentence because you were too lost in your own thoughts? Yeah, a message would be a lifesaver right now.

"That," he says, pointing at one of the hundreds of little chapels in Las Vegas. This one has a deal sign in big and bold letters—an Elvis Presley priest, a bouquet, a professional photographer, and a bottle of champagne for half the price. Well, you never thought about off-season in Vegas, but maybe business was a little rough at this time of the year, but to be quite honest that did seem like a great deal—the shopaholic in you would fall for it if it didn’t involve marriage.

"Are you drunk already?" you ask. Even though you have known the man for years, you still can’t read Jeonghan properly.

Sometimes you think about how he is a book that is written in a different language, and you couldn’t have access to him without a dictionary on the side. Jeonghan does look like a classic—he is well put together, he is fancy, and he would be one of those books that have an embellished spine—the prettiest book on your bookshelf. But at the same time, he is one of those books that need commentaries on every page because somehow the author didn't care about giving enough context or didn't think his work would survive so many years. And one that the storylines end up being totally fucked up, so basically a Russian classical.

"No, I'm painfully sober," Jeonghan says while leaning his head on the window of the car. It almost makes you laugh when you hear the loud sound of him bumping his head, even the Uber driver who didn’t utter a word turns his head back. "It's just," he starts again, "I heard Seungcheol talking about it, and it seems nice to be married."

"What are you talking about?” you say in disbelief,  “Seungcheol is not married yet, he is having a bachelor party in Vegas. He is drinking his weight in alcohol and spending the college tuition of his firstborn in the casino. You and him know about the same thing about marriage, which equals barely anything."

“Yeah but he did talk about all the perks—Oh thank you,” he notices that the Uber finally arrived at the hotel feat casino and all the Vegas shenanigans. Jeonghan holds the car door for you, like a true gentleman—you almost scoff. “What I was trying to say is, Seungcheol did talk to me about being married, it doesn’t feel like a bad deal at all.” Again, he holds the door for you.

“So we should just get married in Vegas because Seungcheol said it is a great deal?” you ask Jeonghan like he said the stupidest thing ever, which is partially true. It was one of the stupidest things he’d ever said to you, and you’ve known the man for years—you’ve witnessed a fair  amount of his stupidity, all laced with his all-knowing smile. Every time you tried to understand what he was talking about it always left you feeling like this man was insane.

“I mean? What would you lose?” Jeonghan asked, crossing his arms after pushing the elevator buttons—one for your room, the other one so the door closes faster (he is one of those people).

“A lot?” you say almost laughing. What the fuck? It resonates in your mind, almost like the words are bumping the walls of your cranium, like the old Windows 98 screensaver logo.

“Yeah? Like what?” Jeonghan asks and the ping of the elevator makes sure both of you know that it arrived before opening the door.

“Freedom,” you say, trying to stay normal and not succumb to Jeonghan—you both hear someone saying,“Hold!” across the hall. Jeonghan just smiles and clicks the button to close the door. Maniac really, without basic education. To be fair though, it was a frat dude with another frat dude who could wait for the next elevator without dying, but still.

“Come on, you are a book editor. You love everything that has nothing to do with freedom, you love rules and everything that shackles you.” You scoff hearing Jeonghan’s words.

You want to argue, you want to kick and scream and pick a fight because is he basically calling you boring right? He is totally calling you the most boring person he’s ever met, and you are in Vegas - and still, somehow, you are the boring girl. But he is right about it—you do not leave your comfort zone, you do not do crazy very well, and you don’t even drink that much because losing control of situations makes you slightly insane. And Jeonghan is right because he is one of your closest friends, and you talked about it with him, he even knows how this is a recurrent topic in your therapy. Asshole.

“Well, still don’t give me the urge to marry you, your sales points are awful—how do you hold your job?” You ask side eyeing your friend, well, if you wanted to marry someone calling them boring is not the right way to do it.

“I do a better job when I need to sell to investors, I’m not giving my all right now since you are not paying me,” Jeonghan says, leaving the elevator and looking back at you. Well, not giving your all when you are asking someone for marriage - number two mistake.

“I’d hope so, otherwise your name would be number one in the next layoff,” you say rolling your eyes.

“Come on,” Jeonghan scoffs. “You didn’t hear Seungcheol talking about the benefits," he says, opening the door to your shared hotel door. The deal was to sleep in a weird hotel that may have bedbugs or share a room and a bed with Jeonghan in a more upscale hotel whose bathroom didn’t look like a crime scene. Not a difficult decision, to be quite honest.

“Is Seungcheol now a pro-marriage coach?” you ask, taking off your shoes and leaving your bag on the nearest chair.

“Probably, I mean, the side money would be crazy,” he says, taking off his watch and leaning against the table, again crossing his arms. “What I meant is did you ever think about the tax deduction, health insurance benefits, leave benefits? Also, Seungcheol did remind me that the bank raises the chance of getting approved credits if the spouse has a great credit history.” 

“Yet he is the one marrying because he loves his girlfriend,” you remind Jeonghan, because apparently he is forgetting one the key ingredients of marriage in contemporary societies - love, affection, and a dose of “I love you but leaving with you every time you forget the toothpaste open is making me thinking about how life in hell would look like.”

“Right,” Jeonghan scoffs, making you even more curious.

“What would you need credits for?” you ask. Jeonghan is an unmarried and childless man, who works on investments, travels twice a year, and has a car. You on the other hand work in a crumbling industry - books, who reads books? - don’t travel a lot and your car is like twelve years old.

“Marry me and I tell you,” Jeonghan answered without letting the ball drop, quick on his feet like always, you could never catch this man.

“Tell me and I will think about it,” You try to pry.

“A house.” He says earnestly.

Again - you know Jeonghan, and you know your friend is a lunatic, but you also know when he is being completely honest with you. The man did want that house, which was completely weird. Jeonghan was a city guy, he was living in a rented apartment sure, but it was a great apartment, it even had a view. He worked downtown, why would he need a house?

“A house?” You try again, trying to get more details of what the heck is making your friend go crazy out of a sudden.

“Yeah, a house.” He says shrugging like it is the most common thing ever, maybe it is a well-known scheme of marrying for taxes and credits that you don’t know, maybe you are late. Maybe you are outdated putting together marriage and love in the same sentence, maybe, the world has changed. “Will you marry me?” Jeonghan asks you in his dullest voice ever like he is tired and completely bored.

“No.” You deadpan.

“Come on, at least pretend that you are thinking about it,” Jeonghan says, lying on the bed horizontally, his face is now closer to you and his legs are too big so they hang out of the bed, like a kid almost. “It has four bedrooms so you can move and say fuck you to Laurel the accountability girl.”

Well, that makes you think about it. He should have started with that. Maybe if he just proposed a new roommate scheme you would’ve said yes in the uber.

“I don't hate her that much,” you lied through your teeth, you hated that girl. You blamed the real state crisis because the rent was crazy, sharing the apartment was a good deal on paper, and half of the rent money went to your savings account so you could live in peace - Jeonghan actually advised you on how to save and where to invest if you wanted to retire quickly, but you never really thought about buying shares and selling shares and the whole ordeal.

“Fuck you,” He laughs, “every week I have to hear you complain how she lets food go bad and how it leaves your fridge stinky enough to make you almost puke, and that only happens when she doesn't food go bad on the kitchen counter or wait, do you remember when she forgets to lock the door two times last week?”

“Well, I am sorry if I have listened to true crimes podcast enough to be actually aware of the horrors of being a woman and how serial killers are out there just waiting for you to sleep with the fucking door open,” you say like you are the most reasonable person ever.

“And you are right, what I am saying is that I would lock the door so no one can enter the house, I would be a better roommate.”  

“Sure we do not have to marry to be roommates we can look for suitable places in our price range,”

“Look at this,” Yoon Jeonghan says, fiddling with his phone, “It has four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, the kitchen is great, it has a backyard and a solarium.”

“Fuck-”  You say, sitting on the bed, your thigh close enough to his arm that you feel the warmth of his skin, “that’s, that's crazy.” 

“I know,” he says turning on the bed and closing his hand on his stomach like he is dead, just staring at the ceiling, “The price is not bad either, one of my clients is trying to sell so he can invest in a new startup so it is not actually in the market right now but will be in a few weeks so-”

“Did you try to get the loan?”  You ask, finger still going on his phone looking at different pics of this completely perfect house. All the rooms were big, and with natural light - crazy. The Solarium looked like a thing out of this world. And you could see yourself living there, if you had enough money you could live the dream, but that house was just out of your price range. God, with that garden you could have a dog. Damn.

“I don't want to pay interest to a bank,” Jeonghan almost whines, because he knows how this whole thing works and how he would have to pay the loan and half of the loan because banks are greedy bastards.

“Can I have two bedrooms?”

“What do you need two bedrooms for?” Jeonghan asks, finally looking at you and dropping his i-am-almost-dead act.

“My room, one office,” you explain. You know the office would be the one with two larger windows facing the garden. Oh what a joy - to build a life you would never live, it was indeed one of your favorite hobbies, maybe that’s why you love books so much.

“Ok, I guess. I can make something out of the basement.” Jeonghan replies nonchalantly making you laugh.

Maybe that’s why you two were friends, you had a great time speaking nonsense to one another. You both just kept feeding into whatever fantasy you built, like reality could not touch everything. You and Jeonghan had this weird pattern of just sitting, eating and talking for hours and hours about whatever that had nothing to do with the truth. What would you do if you won the lottery? What would you do when you retire? What would you do if you woke up on a desert island? What would you do if your boss was imprisoned for embezzlement? Ok not the last one, scratch that, this one actually happened.

“I can give you 5% of the price tag, and we can share the loan if it matches my current rent price range, but we need to actually draft something with a lawyer later so we can only sell the house to ourselves, I don’t trust you enough to buy this house without a lawyer on my side.”

“Dude-” Jeonghan jerks on the bed, he sits and turns his body to face you. “Wait, do you hate Laurel that much?”

“Yoon Jeonghan, do you want a marriage to up your credit score or what? I paid my student loans in record time, the banks love me.” 

“I don’t know if you are joking or not,” He tells you. 

"Can you call room service?" You ask heading to the bathroom, while you tie your hair - like you are preparing yourself for a dire work task - maybe talk to a translator about a deadline, they are worse than writers, "I think we will need more alcohol." 

"Wait," you hear Jeonghan's voice echo through the door, "are we actually gonna do it?" 

You are joking. 

And you know Jeonghan was too. With the years of knowing him, you knew that the majority of things that left Jeonghan's mouth had a shock value purpose. Induce distress first, we talk about truth later - or never. That made you 100% sure that you would never marry that man. You knew him enough - twelve years, since high school. He knew you as well - he knew all your teenage traumas, all of your romance fiasco, and he met all of your exes. 

You would never, never, marry that man.

Right?

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

When you open your eyes and the white ceiling greets you, you can hear yourself groaning almost involuntarily. Your head aches. You know you will regret everything that happened the night before, even though you don't know what actually happened, and what you need to hold yourself accountable for. But you know the taste of a life-changing hangover that has a side dish of regret and a cup of shame to go. But it couldn’t possibly be so bad right?

Ok, maybe moving your body was not the very first thing to do. You try to open your eyes again. Well, at least you were in your own hotel room. Jeonghan is by your side, his arm across your stomach and somehow his face is near your armpit. You try to sniffle yourself, but so far doesn't like you are actually stinky. Your deodorant was doing a great job so far, maybe it actually has a 24-hour action or something like that.

You try to lift yourself up, sitting in the bed, head in hand because everything spins. Oh God help you. Besides the headache you feel sticky and sweaty, and all gross. You can't believe you didn't shower, and if you didn't shower you didn't take your makeup off, and if you didn't take your makeup off you totally threw your 43-day steak of doing your skincare routine. Fuck. Maybe you could just delete the app, or pretend that yesterday never happened. Deal with the blank day that screams how bad you fucked up was not an option though, it would never happen.

“What the fuck did we drink?” You hear Jeonghan's hoarse voice. You take the hands off your eyes, the clarity feels like punching your cornea and brain, and Jeonghan's state is not very different from yours, his shirt is open and ruffled, his arms are shielding his eyes from the light entering the room, his hair is messy and he looks like he needed four days of sleep.

“Fuel? Petrol? Satan spit in a cup?” You answer dropping yourself on the bed again, every joint of your body aches. It is ridiculous how you feel trapped in a 90 years old body, and like that is not enough you feel nauseated beyond words. And every time you can feel and hear Jeonghan breathing it feels like it is piercing your skull, would be rude to ask your friend to stop breathing and just stay completely still? He would understand, right?

“Do you think room service can get us some painkillers?” He groans lifting himself up this time, “Or maybe a gun?”

“Can you call them? I think I will puke if I sit for more than half a minute,” you say, your hand going into your mouth as if it would actually help if the worst-case scenario happened.

“I think I can, the problem is that you need to get me the phone,” Jeonghan tells you groaning between words. His hand points to the object and there is no way in hell you are moving to get that, that would mean you getting up and turning and being alive altogether.

“I can't I told you I gonna puke,” you try to explain how serious your condition - also known as hangover - is.

“It is by your side of the bed" He groans again and yet he sounds just like a petulant child, maybe it is a gift.

“I can't I will puke on the carpet it only makes things worse,” you try again, “or worse I can puke on the bed, you included in the radio of the vomit you know it splashes.”

“Ok, stand still,” Jeonghan says, “don't kick me, I'm doing it for both of us”

And you do as you are told because being still right now is the only thing you can do - even moving your eyeballs seems too much right. So Jeonghan just dropped his body on top of yours, he is also sweaty, and he reeks of alcohol. Damn, he actually smells like gasoline. He picks up the phone and presses a few buttons. His body is still above yours, pressing into you.

“Be quick you are pressing my blade," you say after the surprise of having him against you fazes out.

“What the fuck do you need to pee or vomit? Ah yes, hello,” He says changing his voice in the middle of the sentence from something that says intimacy is a disease to his customer service voice without pausing, “hm do you guys have room service that includes painkillers?” He waits, nodding his head as he hears something before he remembers his on the telephone. “Oh okay, thank you, can you send it? Oh yeah great, yes if you can do that, yes, pancakes, toasts with poached eggs and avocado, coffee hmm” he thinks about it, looks at you, thinks about a second or two, and then adds, “Can you send us four cups of coffee? Thank you.”

Jeonghan finishes the call with a groan leaving his mouth, he places the phone on its holder. But when you think he will get himself off of you he only plops down, his body weight getting heavier. His bones poking your body, what the fuck he was doing with your elbow on your ribcage?

“Jeonghan what the fuck-" You complain, trying to kick your legs in a vain attempt to make your friend move.

“I got us painkillers and food, let me recharge for a bit stop complaining,” Jeonghan says in a dead tone of voice, almost like he is dealing with a kid throwing some type of tantrum - the only thing is that, in this occasion, the child is you and somehow you want to kick his shin, because you are the one right in this situation, and you could totally just plop down in a mall disgusting floor if Yoon Jeonghan was your father too.

“You are heavy!” You try again but somehow Jeonghan is stronger than you think and his body is still over yours like nothing is happening, maybe you are just dehydrated and fucking muscle-less, maybe the yoga wasn’t doing much when you almost killed your liver.

“I am not,” Jeonghan says, now he is the one being the moody child in the supermarket, maybe he will go off without parental supervision. Oh wait, this was Yoon Jeonghan he actually did wander away when he was out about with his parent and ended up three blocks away just because he saw an ice cream truck. Jeonghan was the easiest kid to be kidnapped, you ask yourself how he ended up being safe and sound, and in one piece.

“Just because you are skinny it doesn’t mean you aren’t heavy.” You try again pushing on Jeonghan bony shoulder, even that is pointy. “bones are heavy too, get off of me!”

“You kind of stink," Jeonghan says, his head still lodged in the space between your neck and shoulder.

“Well you asshole you are not better yourself, and you are stinky too and sticky like you showered in bear or something.”

“Maybe I did, I don’t know I can't actually think,” He groans finally trying to lift himself up, “We should shower,” he says sitting on the bed and looking down at you.

“You go first,” both of you say at the same time

You end up going first. Mainly because you needed to pee and you think that once you are up you may as well just use the opportunity to shower otherwise you would just drop dead on the floor and never get up again - you will be stinky and gross forever. Also, you think that if hell breaks loose and Jeonghan actually pukes you at least already used the shower. Back in college, he puked on the sink because it was the closest thing to the door, or whatever poor excuse he came up with, and that scene still haunts you, because somehow the sink was clogged. Ew, you think, finishing peeing and wiping yourself up. You wash your hands and say thank you for your past self because your necessaire is splayed on the counter, you pick up your face wash and head to the shower. Ok, let's deal with it. You need to wash your hair too. You open the register, letting the water hit your foot in an attempt to get just the perfect temperature.

You close and open the registers a few times - to fix the temperature, but you not gonna lie, to make up your mind too. But when you let the water hit your face - in an almost drowning attempt, you know you made the right decision, shower first was the only option. You let the water wash away for a few minutes until you are ready to really start your shower. First step - wash your face. Well, you needed to buy a new face wash this one was in its last few stages of life, you close your eyes and start to rub against your skin, normal, until you few something slightly different on your hand - almost like scratching the skin, you open your eyes and you finally notice, a band on your finger.

You turn your hand and it finally hits you.

It is a ring.

With a big rock.

In your ring finger.

A big damn rock on your ring finger.

“Yoon Jeonghan” you scream in horror.

On the other side of that door, Jeonghan just hears you scream. He actually picks himself up in record time and room towards the bathroom, oh shit did you just fall and hit your head? Did you break the glass of the fancy hotel shower? Are you dying? So without thinking much Jeonghan opens the bathroom door and he just finds you - completely naked and seemly okay, just staring at your own hand.

“What happened?” He asks trying to catch his own breath, maybe he does need to start working out man, he didn’t feel this horrible when he was hitting the gym after shifts, but also he didn’t feel that great either the whole gym rat thing was not his ordeal.

“What did we do?” You ask still in complete horror, not even thinking about how this is the first time Yoon Jeonghan, your friend is seeing you completely naked. 10/10 would not recommend this experience. Not even to Laurel, her satan spit roommate.

“What? Are you going crazy? I thought you fell and opened your skull or something,”

You just look at Jeonghan, dead in his eyes, like the reality is worse than falling in the bathroom, opening your skull and calling the paramedics naked. You just turn your hand to him - like it is enough to make him understand what a dire situation it is. And you swear to god you can almost see the little flakes of light on the bathroom floor, the rock is big enough to shine across the room.

“Did you call me to show me your ring? Couldn’t you wait until you put your clothes on?” Jeonghan asks leaning into the doorway.

“Jeonghan did we-” you say but you feel your own throat closing around itself, it can’t be right?

“Hm?” he asks without a blink of an eye.

“Oh we did, we totally did," you sighed, more to yourself than to Jeonghan.

“No, you are not that crazy,” he claimed. What is that even was supposed to mean? He was crazy enough for it but you the two goody shoes wasn’t?

“Jeonghan check your bank receipt,” you demanded, trying to connect the dots in a way, trying to find a physical proof, maybe you just bought a way too expensive ring for yourself, or maybe it was just impulse buying.

Before you can move Jeonghan almost runs towards the room, you try your best to keep up with him but you are a little behind because for the first time, you actually are aware of how naked you are. You pick up the fluffy bathroom robe - yeah the fancy hotel had its perks.

“Oh fuck” you can hear Jeonghan before you can see him, his phone it’s on his lap, his head is on his head - he is a man defeated.

“Did we?” You try to probe, but your voice sounds weird in your own ears - almost small, and the reality hits you, you are kinda scared. The reality of maybe having fucked up hits you like a trunk, you always been a nice girl, you never fucked up - at least not that bad, what would you mean if you married on a drunk whim?

“I think,” Jeonghan says, his hand on his greasy hair, fuck he needed a shower. “I think we fucked up real bad.”

You sit beside Jeonghan, you both staring at the wall ahead of you in disbelief. You are still gross, but now your damp hair is actually dropping on the bed and you can’t bring yourself to care. The fact that Jeonghan is motionless by your side without uttering a word is what freaks you out more. Jeonghan is not someone who is fazed so easily - his mouth is agape and his eyebrows furred, the ‘i-am-utterly-stressed’ Jeonghan feature is what freaks you out really.

“Ok Hannie,” you breathe softly. “That’s what we are going to do, I am going to shower, then you are going to shower, we gonna eat breakfast, then we are going to return this ring, then we are going to call Joshua, he is a lawyer, right? He probably will know what to do.”

“Joshua is a real estate lawyer,” Jeonghan mutters without blinking.

“Jeonghan focus!” You say getting out of bed, “divorce is a thing we don’t need to stay married.”

You take one of the longest showers in human history. You needed a good shower, but, the majority of the time under the shower you think about how the hell you got so drunk to marry Jeonghan. Some flashes of memory blink on the forefront of your mind every time you blink; a vegas chapel, not an Elvis but an Elton John in front of you, Jeonghan picking one of the most expensive ring in a fancy story. How the fuck fancy jewelry runs for twenty four hours?

Every flash comes with a sharp pain, the fucking headache.

When you get out of the bathroom the breakfast is already in the room. You take a bit of egg and toast just so you can shove coffee down your throat without having to deal with the stomach pain. You search the ring case and don’t find anywhere, maybe it is safe on Jeonghan’s thing, maybe he kept it safe, or you hope so. When you sit on the bed you stare down the ring, it is a beautiful ring and you are pretty sure it is something Jeonghan chose, it is beautiful, but at the same time, it is just too much.

You need to return it, no doubt about it.

You try to take the ring one and somehow it doesn’t even budge. You scoff, what a tricky little thing. So you try again, and again the thing doesn’t move. You can feel the drop in your blood pressure, what the heck? You lost track of the time when Jeonghan opened the bathroom door and you looked at him in shock, you look down at your red and bloated finger.

“This shit is stuck in my finger?” You say trying to take off one final time before just breaking your finger.

“Well, I think this is a good time to tell you,” he starts his voice all weird and over the place, “I kinda fucked up.”

“Jeonghan we are apparently married I already know we fucked everything up.”

“No, I-” Jeonghan begins, his hands now going through his washed hair, still wet and dripping on the floor, “I found a shred receipt and an invoice.”

“What the fuck?” You almost yell in pure knee-jerk reaction.

“I think it is yours now?” Jeonghan shrugs, like it is not a big deal even though you know that this ring is expensive, it must be, it has a giant rock and even though you know close to nothing about jewelry it looks expensive.

“What happened to us?” You question.

“You ask me? You don't remember anything?" Jeonghan says sincerely, and you know it is true. Jeonghan was kind of a prankster, he kinda did push people to its limit, but part of it was just doing fun things but also harmless shit. Like entering the beach at night, or hiding someone’s phone and pretending they did leave in the hotel so they can enjoy the trip without being bombarded by their special someone - read Seungcheol yesterday at lunch.

“Can we call Joshua?”

“I think we can do that later,” Jeonghan checks his watch, “I think it would be wiser just to show up to Seungcheol’s lunch and pretend that mini golf is fun, it would bring suspicious otherwise.”

“Jeonghan we married we didn’t commit a crime,” you say looking at him in disbelief.

“Do you want to deal with Seungcheol’s monologue about us getting married? I don’t think I want to deal with that with a killer hangover after a wedding walk of shame in fucking Las Vegas,” he drops. And God, that really sounds like a nightmare.

“Yeah,” you say looking at the big rock on your thing, “you are right, but we should probably still call Joshua,”

“I told you he is a real state lawyer didn’t I?” He says almost rudely to you, and you want to say that if you two are married both of you said yes it is not like you are the only one responsible for it but you try not to push his buttons.

“And what is your option Jeonghan?”

“I’m thinking about just getting drunk again so I can forget everything that is happening right now.”

What a fucking great idea.

Seungcheol is one of Jeonghan’s closest friends from college. Seungcheol just became your friend because you and Jeonghan were weirdly bound at the hip. You both shared your high school years, and when you two enrolled at the same university you only had two options, pretend you two didn’t know each other, or become conjoined twins. Jeonghan was a business major, you were enrolled in every class that had literature, poetry, or the name of a dead guy on it. But still, you and Seungcheol became great friends even though he is a finance guy. And Seungcheol was the reason you two were on a Vegas trip, the last trip of his life as an unmarried man, he had to make a sketchy deal with his fiancé in order to it to happen but still, according to him, it was worthy.

“Nice shot!” You hear Seungcheol's voice loud, bringing you back to reality. He is clapping as Seokmin - one of his other friends from work hits the ball down the hole.

Seungcheol’s voice, loud and clear, brings you back to reality.

Oh the joys of playing mini golf before lunch, you could spend days and days talking about how much you loved the idea and how every hole seems like a fucking nightmare but you are a married woman. Needless to say this whole situation wasn’t in your 2023 bingo card. You don’t pay attention when it is Jeonghan or Seungcheol’s turn, you wait until you have to put the ball in the hole, it probably takes you double the time, and then it starts again, ad infinitum. At least they are kind enough to not pressure you to perform like Tiger Woods or something.

You think about Jeonghan though. Somehow, he hasn’t changed. Jeonghan was the same Jeonghan you met in high school, of course, he matured and the years turned into baggage, but Jeonghan was still your friend who was playful enough to get married on a whim. Jeonghan was everything you weren’t in a way, somewhat playful and carefree, and still a very practical human being. Jeonghan was mischievous, but yet, not even once, he pushed you until you couldn’t take it, and that makes you think that somehow, with an unknown reason, in your drunk stupor, you wanted to marry Jeonghan, because hell can break loose, the skies can fall, but Jeonghan would never make you do something you did not want to do.

While Jeonghan and Seungcheol are busy hitting those tiny balls Seokmin stops by your side. You like Seokmin, Seokmin is kind, and you constantly think about how he is surviving the finance world, he doesn’t seem cut to it, but somehow he manages to stay alive against the monsters of capitalism, or, worse, he stays alive feed the monsters of capitalism. Ew. Seokmin’s face though seems focused on another thing, he looks in shock and happy at the same time, he probably did the whole hole in less than three shots you think.

“Oh my god,” He almost screams making you jolt in place, in all truth that was pretty much a common occurrence when your day to day involved Seokmin.

“Hm?” You question puzzled, looking at him trying to find a clue of something behind his feature when Jeonghan and Seungcheol finally join the two of you on the sideline.

“What is that?” Seokmin asks and you still without a fucking clue of what he is talking about. “Damn,” he says with his big smile across his face, making the tip of his nose get even more pronounced, “are you guys planning a surprise and I just ruined it?” His face changes in a blink of an eye.

“What surprise?” Jeonghan questions taking a drink of his gatorade like he was in the middle of an excruciating sport and not fucking mini golf after an unsafe amount of alcohol.

“That thing!” Seokmin cheered, and then it downs on you - the big ass ring on your hand, propped on the golf putter, and before you can hide it or chop your hand off the three man in your sight is eying the big damn rock that you forgot about,

“The what?” Seungcheol blurted.

“This is an engagement ring right?” Seokmin asks and you think about an ostrich, putting its head on the ground, you think you can do the same in one of the circuit's holes.

“No, it isn’t, how the hell they are engaged when they aren’t dating?” Seungcheol scoffs, acting like Seokmin is saying something that doesn't make sense, something that happened numerous times before, it could be happening again. It was happening again, at least to Seungcheol.

“We saw that one when we were looking for your fiancée present though,” Seokmin says all pouty and confused, and you think you almost try to defend his point of view as you always do, just because he is cute.

“It isn’t an engagement right?” Seungcheol asks

“It would be weird to be an engagement ring,” Jeonghan acknowledged the absurdity that envelopes the situation that you two are in, you want to try to take off the ring and just throw it across the field of mini golf, but a) it looked extra expensive, b) the three guys didn't even blink looking at your hand.

“Did you buy for aesthetic proposal?” Seokmin asks, "A girl that works with the human resources team did buy one just because she thought it was pretty."

“Of course,” Seungcheol claps, “I mean fashion was never your strong suit,” He says and it almost feels like a jab, “I almost brought that one, Jeonghan was dead set on this, saying it was the ring, but it was a bit on the expensive side”

“How expensive are we talking about?” You try to pry your body from reacting physically to the fact that Jeonghan shredded a fucking invoice and receipt, and the fact that even Seungcheol - the guy who buys twelves tumblers just because it was cute and ends up giving them away finds that expensive sets a new parameter of money waste.

“You didn’t check the price?" Seokmin asks, when you remain silent he continues, “Wow be you must be nice, balling and shit."

“How expensive are we talking about Seungcheol?” You try again, "Seokmin?" If you can’t return this damn thing at least you can try to sell it later. If you can’t find someone who can buy this you can sell for those weird and sketchy stores but you need to know how much you are actually losing on the deal, well, not you, Jeonghan but still, if you know the man he will just accept his fate and never move a muscle to deal with this ring situation.

“You really didn't check the price hun?” Seungcheol questions raising his eyebrow, like he always did when he couldn’t quite believe in you and it always made you feel angry with him. It was a tale almost, even when you were telling the truth he always raised that eyebrow questioning you, making you explain yourself.

“I brought the ring,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly like he is saying that he brought the bread on his way home. Jeonghan had this thing, a completely loath to let other people know his truest feelings. Even if he was one step away from a panic attack he would not tell you.

“Why would you do that?” Seungcheol asks again his voice is two tones higher, and you feel like he is questioning the two of you, and in his own mind he is the bad cop in the situation - Seungcheol liked that type of shit, and you think that maybe he is so into that because Jeonghan is his polar opposite, never giving Seungcheol a reaction.

“I told you I thought it was a beautiful ring man,” Jeonghan deadpans and take his fingers to move his bangs out of his eyes - making him look like a fucking prick, looking down at everyone else, and you know that just tickles something in Seungcheol. “What I am trying to say,” Jeonghan tries again, “is that the ring It is not an engagement ring because I didn’t ask her to marry me yet,” Jeonghan says walking by your side and enveloping your shoulder in an awkward hug. “I just confessed my feelings, it might be over the top a bit but you guys know I just had my eye on the ring.”

“Dude! Finally!” Seokmin says hugging Jeonghan, and you almost feel yourself choking on air.

When Jeonghan is free he whispers against your ear, his breath on your skin making you shrink, “Just bear with it.”

“What?” Seungcheol asks “Out of nowhere, you confessed your feelings? With an engagement ring?”

“Not an engagement ring Seungcheol we won't crash your wedding, relax,” Jeonghan says again, rolling his eyes.

“How much it was?” You try again dead set on finding out how much that was, apparently a new hyper-fixation.

“Babe,” Jeonghan says looking at you with a mischievous smile across his face, “it is not polite to talk about the price tag”

“What the hell I am watching right now?” Seungcheol bristled, more in anger than in frustration.

“It was long overdue really,” Seokmin gushed, in a terrible contrast to Seungcheol’s features, his voice is loud and his big smile stretches across his face, “I thought it was so fucking weird you two sharing a hotel room with the excuse of saving money, like we know Jeonghan has money,” Seokmin points to the ring, making your skin crawl.

“We are returning this,” you tell Jeonghan, your voice low while elbowing his ribs.

“Baby I told you,” Jeonghan appealed, grabbing your shoulder “We can’t do that”

“Like I personally found you guys always so weird like, I think I even asked Seungcheol if you guys were married in the past because you guys are really,” he moves his hands in a weird move in a way to mean how close you always had been, “like truly crazy and then I asked Seungcheol and he was like it is never gonna happen and I was like-"

And Seokmin goes on for about a good five minutes about how he thought the two of you were a couple, and in a way, you were so used to it that it didn't even startle you. The problem was that Seokmin truly believed Jeonghan’s lies, one thing was to think that you two were in a relationship - everyone had this basic reaction since the two were in college, even one of Jeonghan’s ex-girlfriend thought of, one of your coworkers too, Jeonghan’s door to door neighbors too, almost every single soul you two met. That alone was something you began to understand, yeah you and Jeonghan had a weird level of intimacy.

 If you mash together your college years you can sum up in - of course, we do not date, of course, you can go ahead and kiss him in this horrible pub, oh yeas I am living in his dorm at ungodly hours just because we decided to binge watch a docuseries, oh if I am wearing Jeonghan's clothes? Haha He saved my ass because I doped the coffee on my clothes - ps. The coffee didn't exist, and his girlfriend did break things up a week later, Jeonghan swore it wasn't because of you. Once one guy broke up with you because when he smelled you he could recognize Jeonghan's smell on you, Jeonghan toke as his duty to just fuck up with that guy's mind for a whole month. He told you over and over again that the guy was wrong and basically called you a cheater, so you might as well plant enough evidence to give them the mental image - Jeonghan planted underwear on said guy's returning box, a note with his own handwriting with meet me in secret at the library, and even brought you a small dog plushie to put in the box and when you asked why he said 'he will think another guy gave you a present'.

Knowing Jeonghan and the fact that he loved shocking people this whole act today didn't really shock you, in the end, you were the only that understand Jeonghan, because you would never ever fall for this weird ass act. Your default reaction to anything Jeonghan related was a fair amount of mistrust.

“What are you two doing?” Seungcheol asks again, his voice is laced with suspicion and mistrust.

“Doing what?” Jeonghan asks, his hand going to your hair and placing it behind your ear.

“Whatever you guys are doing,” Seungcheol says pointing his fingers at the both of you, and you think it is dumb to even pretend something to Seungcheol, he knows you, he knows Jeonghan he knows nothing like that would even happen and you still don't know why Jeonghan is even trying to lie to him. 

“Jeonghan-” you whine, marrying in Vegas is indeed something that brings you shame and regret but lying to your friends is even worse, how would you deal with that later?

You think you would prefer listening to Seungcheol’s monologue about how both of you are completely crazy, unreasonable, and unreliable, all of that rings true now. And it was Seungcheol, he would end up knowing somehow, even if you didn’t tell him now, you both would end up telling him. This whole scheme would fall like a house of cards somehow. You couldn't knock on Seungcheol door and say haha we were kidding, but Jeonghan could, you would make him do it.

“Seungcheol that’s actually-”

“What are we supposed to believe that after what? A decade you just woke up brought a ring and confessed your feelings?” Seungcheol asks, raising his voice enough to make you look around the damn mini golf to see if anyone is insane enough to care about this damn scene, “When you are a commitment phobe who has been on my ass for the past several months?”

“Look man, can you just drop it?” Jeonghan asks again - in the same aloof way he uses when he wants to piss you off, almost like he is flirting with the idea of being a patronizing prick. 

“Of course not, what the hell,” Seungcheol says, his tone still on the angrier side  “You didn’t even remotely tell us about this."

“Yeah well some people can actually keep secret,” Jeonghan says bitterly.

“What was that supposed to mean?” Seungcheol questions and just by the tone of his voice you know that shit is going down, you have seen countless fights between the two to know that Seungcheol was on the edge.

“It means that I can actually keep my individuality as a human being because I don’t have a crazy girlfriend who has trust issues so I need to overshare everyone’s personal life because she thinks you can cheat on her every monday to friday man,” Jeonghan quipped. He was not the one who loved to fight, Jeonghan was actually someone who would just shrug and resolve the situation later when it came back to bite his ass, but damn when he wanted to fight he was ready for it.

“Damn,” Seokmin breathed.

“What the fuck Jeonghan,” You and Seungcheol say at the same time, both in disbelief.

“It is the truth, isn't it?” Jeonghan chastised, “Dude you are traveling with friends and somehow the whole lunch was about how your girlfriend was pissed that you actually brought a ring to placate how angry she was."

“Jeonghan stop talking.” you plead, holding his arms trying to get his attention, to make him stop before things end up in a point of no return. 

“Why?” Jeonghan asks you this time, eyes focused on you and not Seungcheol.

“Because you are being a fucking asshole now,” you say “This is Seungcheol bachelor’s party the man is getting married,” you try again like Seungcheol is not in the room.

“Oh you think I don’t know about that?" He says exasperated, "We are in Vegas and this motherfucker drink one beer and told us to go to our own hotel yesterday so we needed to get drunk and-”

“Jeonghan,” you say again almost like a kid tugging Jeonghan's by his shirt sleeve.

“We are in fucking Vegas and we didn’t visit one strip club and we are playing mini golf that something off about this whole trip,” Jeonghan says loudly chuckling at his own words.

“Are you seriously right now? You are going on a tirade against your friend because he doesn’t take you to strip clubs?” It is your time to act in disbelief - strip club? Seriously?

“Maybe if we were at a strip club yesterday,” Jeonghan says eying you.

“You know what?” Seungcheol speaks up. “Fuck you, you are uninvited by the way, you go on and on about how you don’t think I should marry, well, then you don’t need to show up.”

You and Jeonghan are left side by side on the mini golf field. Standing there while the world still moving around. You want to break out in laughter, you want to just laugh at how the two of your friends seem to wake up on the wrong foot, you want to knock Jeonghan's head off his shoulder, but you end up just walking to return to the damn golf club. 

The whole way to the hotel you and Jeonghan spend in complete silence, not one uttering a single word.

And apparently - now you are the one that wants to start a fight out of nowhere. You are the one that wants to scream about how Jeonghan was being an unreasonable asshole. You try to wrap your head around his reasons, about why he would act like that and nothing that comes up in your own brain seems right.

So when you both are back in the hotel room - now with new sheets thank god, and less alcohol smell you just ask in the most nonsubtle way you can, you hold your own waist and ask like he was a teenager throwing a rude tantrum, “What was that?”

“What?” Jeonghan asks taking his time to take off his jewelry, watch the first thing, and later necklace, if he had any bracelet would be the third step of his routine.

“The whole Seungcheol marriage thing?”

“Well, you don’t have to deal with him drunk every Friday night telling you how overwhelmed and how he feels trapped since they set the wedding date,” Jeonghan says shrugging. 

“You told me he was going on and on about how great marriage is,” you say sitting on the bed, trying to understand all the things you apparently didn't know about Jeonghan and Seungcheol.

“Yeah, he has his own list of cons in his note app," Jeonghan huffs, "every time he thinks about calling it off, I think I just memorized it because he reads more than once a day”

“Fuck,” you say in a breath. In your own mind, Seungcheol not even once doubted his choice to get married, not even once seemed unsure of his decision.

“I was the one that said Vegas," Jeonghan says sitting on your side, both of you looking at the widow that faces a fucking parking lot, "I thought that he would get drunk enough to actually mess everything up because he can’t do sober, and by mess everything up I mean breaking up with his crazy girlfriend."

“Yeah, still, you didn’t need to be a fucking asshole,” you say seriously this time trying to face him.

“Well, I panicked ok?" Jeonghan finally breaks, "I wasn’t going to tell that man who is having a daily mental breakdown that we married in fucking Vegas.”

“I mean, I don't know about you but I think your friendship with Seungcheol is more important than being lectured because you married in Vegas, Hannie,” you tell him softly, patting his thigh.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, letting his hand on top of yours, “I guess I can't be gracious always,” he says with a sad smile.

“I know you are stressed out," You say calmly, "but you lashed out at Seungcheol and it wasn't great,”

“The fuck you are defending him for?” Jeonghan says standing up and pretending he is searching for something in that damn room.

“Are you serious?”

“What?" Jeonghan chuckles, "he can go on and on about how I am a commitment-phobe type of guy who is fucked up enough to not have a fiancée like him and it is all good and fun and games? But when I call out his fucking weird relationship I am the bad guy?”

“Jeonghan,” You try but before you can even finish he cuts you.

“No, don't Jeonghan me, the fuck,” he retorted, “you have the excuse of not knowing because I don't tell you, you could think I am an asshole and a horrible boyfriend because every time someone breaks up with me even though I am a great catch,” he laughs bitterly, “You can do that, Seungcheol can't do that, he doesn't have an excuse, he knows why.”

“I never ever think about you like that,” you say sincerely because it is the truth, never once have you thought about Jeonghan being afraid of commitment or being a shit asshole. You always thought about how every girlfriend of his always looked and sounded more in love with him than the other way around, but that wasn't exactly a character flaw.

“I know,” he says already sounding exhausted.

“No I don't think you do,” you say sternly, “like it never crossed my mind really, I always thought about how they were crazy for letting you go, so what you don't want to marry someone? the fuck you can still have a great life and a great relationship with someone without a ring, and I know you are capable of it," and to your own ears you sound almost bitter, how they could be so dumb? To have a chance to have Jeonghan and let him go? “You have always been there for me, you never once wavered, I have no reason to ever think of you in that light and I don't think Seungcheol is being fair, he wasn't, but he is getting married in three weeks Han.”

“Yeah and I am telling him his girlfriend has been a freak since week two when she threw a fit because she was jealous of you,” Jeonghan says shocking you, "because according to her own crazy brain, you are way too close to men so who knows what you will do when she turns her back."

“Of me?” You say pointing at yourself, “Damn, she is crazy."

“That’s what I am trying to tell him, and he isn't fuck listening I guess.”

The whole afternoon you think about Jeonghan.

You think about him when he is lying in the bed on his cellphone, and you continuously think about him when you find him napping in the same bed. You think about everything you don't know about your friend, and you think about everything he doesn’t share with you, that he chooses not to. And you know every single human has secrets, and there are things Jeonghan doesn't know about you too. But knowing that it is one thing, dealing with the emotions that come with it is another thing altogether. Why he would not tell you? Why he would tell Seungcheol?

Those questions live in your brain, rattling and making sounds every time they crash against your skull. You think about your friendship as well. Jeonghan was always there for you. He was there when you had your first heartbreak in the third year of high school, he was there when Mark broke up with you in college, and he was there every step of the way. He was there when you were sick, he was there when your favorite auntie died, he was there when you were panicking before your first job interview, he was there. You just couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that someone would call a man like that a commitment phobe or break up with him.

And what he said was true in some way, Jeonghan never broke up with anyone, he was always the one who was dumped and weirdly okay with it. Every time you talked about someone who didn't know Jeonghan you always painted him as the perfect guy, and it was true - he had a great job and his bank account was crazy even though he worked to the capital devil, he was someone who ha they shit together too, he helped his parent, he helped his friend, his house was never messy.

Every time you broke up with someone you talked about how you wanted a guy just like Jeonghan, nice and fun, but also low maintenance in a way, someone you could just comfortable be being with, without having to try too hard and do too much. And every time you met someone new, you always trusted Jeonghan's opinion, if he vetoed someone he had his reasons, like the weird guy that two months later was on the news because he emptied someone's bank account because they let their bank account info saved on the computer or something like that.

If you thought about it - really being married to Jeonghan was not even close to the worst thing that happened to you. Founding a dead rat once in the subway was worse, or that time when you found out that your roommate left the door open for weeks before you just never went to sleep before her just so you could make sure to close the door, and 95% of the time she didn't close the fucking door, that was worse than being married to Jeonghan.

“The fuck?” Jeonghan groans.

“What?”

“Apparently I messaged my account manager our marriage certificate asking if he could officialize the house-buying proposal, and apparently the bank green flaged it? The owner needs to accept the proposal of course, and it may take a while but-" Jeonghan stops halfway, almost like zooming out, staring at the wall ahead of him.

“I guess you are soon to be a house owner?” You question bringing Jeonghan back to reality.

“No, no-"

“Seriously if it is something that is helping you I don't mind, we can come back to Vegas a few weeks after the deal to annul it I looked up online it is not that hard we just need the documentation and the wedding certificate so," and it was true - you did research how to deal with the whole thing, it seemed easy, maybe that's why they actually let people marry crazy drunk, so they can pay to annul it and the city double the revenue, apparently crazy amount of drinking and casinos were not paying the bill.

“About that,” Jeonghan says, his hands tugging the sides of his hair.

“About what?” You ask.

"The wedding certificate,” he says, finally looking at you, his eyes big and still puffy because of his nap, “I think, I mean- I am pretty sure it is shredded with the receipt and invoice."

“What the fuck Jeonghan?” You shout, oh man, you are going to kill this man. The image is already on your head - jumping on that very same bed like a crazy woman and kicking him before you just kill him with your bare hands.

“I know,” he says almost in a grunt, laying down like a starfish.

“Why did you shred everything up for god's sake," you say almost stopping on the floor.

“I don't know okay?" Jeonghan says, sitting on the bed now, his cellphone forgotten, "Why did we marry? Can you answer that?”

“OOh," you huff, "We did get married, but I am soon to be a window if I don't kill in the next five minutes I swear to god”

“Wait, what changed if it is helping me?” Jeonghan says, back to his mischievous self, with a small smile across his face almost finding endearing the way that you try to threaten his life.

“You are making everything argh-” You are losing your damn mind and if you end up crazy it is Jeonghan's fault, now that he is indeed your husband has another tingle to you like a thriller movie, but you are afraid you are in your own Cameron Diaz Ashton Kutcher low budget 00's movie. Maybe you should take the whole thriller movie, it seems, weirdly, less weird. "First we cannot return this ring now I have to find someone who wants to buy it without documentation so everyone will think this shit is totally fake, I mean I would too, don't get me wrong I wouldn't trust myself either with this jewelry," you go off - almost missing the point, rambling really, before you get back to the point, "now we need to find a second copy of this certificate I swear to god we could just go to the nearest courtroom and annul the wedding I googled it." 

"I already told you you can keep the ring," Jeonghan says - voice low in contrast to your high-pitched complaints.

"Why would I keep this ring Jeonghan?" You question, it sounds weird in your own ears.

The truth is, you did love the ring, it is a beautiful ring but the truth is - you can't keep it. It shouldn't be yours to keep. It should go to someone Jeonghan wants to actually marry, even though you can't bring yourself to take it off your finger, even though you didn't even try to take it off after this morning.

And a breath almost gets locked in your throat. Why? You think, and deep down you know you have your answer but you just shove everything down when you hear Jeonghan's voice, "Well If you sell it I won't take the money."

"I can just pour it into my savings accounts," you say petulantly.

"The fuck," Jeonghan bites back.

"What? You said you didn't want it so I can keep the money," You try your best to sound even close to someone somewhat rational in this matter.

"It is a present you can't sell a present," Jeonghan though, never has a problem looking like he is saying the most rational thing ever even when it doesn't make any sense.

"I totally can," you bite back trying to hold your ground just out of pure spite. He didn't accept that cursed ring which is not even supposed to be yours why the hell he is making such a big deal of you selling or throwing it in the sea?

"You can't," Jeonghan says again, and you think back to your friendship and a lot of times it was like that - a lot of things without proper explanations.

"Why not?" So you just hold your ground - again, he will not win this one, this time he will have to explain.

"Because it is a present I picked up for you. I actually thought about it, I mean before drinking buying apparently, but I thought it would suit you" Jeonghan says, "Just don't sell, if you don't want to use it okay fine but just, just don't sell it, don't hurt a man's pride like that,"

You want to try again - to say you will sell this damn ring if you go to the store and it can't be returned, and you want to say you will throw it on the nearest river because Las Vegas is indeed very far from the sea. You want to push him until he says okay I take the damn ring and I will hold onto it and pass it through generations. But when Jeonghan speaks and he sounds so tired and so hurt you just give up and lock yourself in the bathroom pretending to take a shower before leaving this hellhole of a place.

You look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself how the hell everything happened in such a short amount of time. A marriage, a fight, a ring that makes you go crazy. Maybe you are closer to having a breakdown, maybe it is the time to face things that you are trying to keep hidden under the rug. You think that maybe it is time to just downpour everything.

But like always, you don't. You bottle everything up and pretend that everything is fine.

The last few days in Vegas have been less eventful, thanks God. Jeonghan and you go to weird restaurants and for a walk around the town, and you think about how you got married in the city of Sins.

At least it is fitting to think that pride and wrath have something to do with your own stay in this city.

You often think about Seungcheol, sending him and Seokmin a message or two, or a total of 15. Seokmin answers you, Seungcheol doesn't. And you need to hold yourself back when you type down a fuck you but don't send. You try to pry on Jeonghan's end too, but after the third time that he just doesn't answer you with words but just a cold stare you just let it go. Maybe that's why Seungcheol and Jeonghan have been friends for so long - pieces of the same cloth.

The flight back is not that tricky but at the same time when Jeonghan drops you out at your door, you are ready for a 30 minutes shower and drop dead for a whole week. When you open the door you are glad that your roommate at least remembered to close and lock the door. Character development you think, maybe she is getting better, maybe you don't need to actually move into Jeonghan's house as a safety precaution. But something doesn't seem quite right - there is a new sofa in the living room, which isn't exactly a problem, really, your sofa kinda sucked. But when you look again, you understand what is missing.

No, she didn't, she would not be that crazy. You refuse to believe that. You left all your luggage in the middle of the living room and ran to your bed, maybe she put the side table there, of course, maybe she just moved because the new sofa seems bigger. But there is nothing that resembles the side table in your room, so you try again - her room now, still nothing.

You send a message.

You try to call.

So you try the next best thing - call Jeonghan so he can calm you down. He doesn't pick up.  You sit on the floor, right beside your luggage, and you refuse to sit down on that sofa, it is pretty it seems comfortable but now is the object that you hate the most. You would prefer, I don't know, to take part in a scientific experiment that might fuck up your brain function than sit down on that thing.

The concept of time and space is a funny thing you think when you lose count of how many minutes or hours you have been staring at the door, it has been probably a long time. Until your roommate opens the door with a big guy by her side, great, all that you needed was an audience for your lash out.

"Oh," she says, big guy with his big hands on her hips and he knows he is not getting laid today, because he sees you and he gets so upright he seems like a fucking power pole, "I didn't know you would be back today."

"Laurel, darling, where is my side table?" You ask without beating around the bush.

"Oh right," she says letting her keys on the counter without fucking locking the door you have never been closer to a have a fucking stroke, you can feel your blood pressure rising, "the sofa was a bit bigger, you know I told you I was thinking about changing and this was on discount, but the table didn't really had a place in the room anymore so I put on marketplace a cute girl come up to pick in the same day, great right?"

You blink once, twice, and the words don't even come, you are so astonished that you are left speechless. Maybe you could get over the unsaid desire of getting murdered by a serial killer, and maybe you could get over the leftover food on the counter, and you could even get over the whole singing in the shower when you are fucking tone-deaf really.

But that. That was one thing you could never get over.

"Are you fucking insane? Are you fucking crazy?" You ask, the big guy taking a step back, "Or do you just have fun being the most self-centered bitch in this part of the country?"

"What the fuck?" She says, and oh god, you want to jump on her bones, you want to leave this woman bald.

"Did you ask Laurel?" You ask again, remaining sitting on the floor because if you pick yourself up you are probably no longer be a first-time offender. "Did you ever think about asking if you could sell, give or even create a fucking bonfire with the wood of my deceased auntie's side table? Did you fucking asked?"

"Oh I didn't know," she says simply. You feel the tears streaming down your face and you don't actually know if it is because of sadness or anger.

"So funny Laurel because I don't even fucking know how you function like a human being because your brain is so fucking empty of common sense really," you bristled, finally getting up and picking up your big backup, "Look I don't know how I don't care really, it is up to you, but you get my table back in perfect state, and you will pay this month rent fully because I am not living with you I would prefer Satan as my roommate really, and you may as well find another roommate because I will not move a muscle to put someone inside this apartment," You say moving past Laurel and the crazy big guy, "and by the way Laurel? I would fucking lock the door today you don't really think about how many insane people leave in this world."

You say finally get out of the apartment.

You don't really stop walking because you are afraid you will just fall on the ground, crying in the middle of the street in the fetal position, not really a pretty picture. You know Jeonghan's house is not really far, a twenty minute walk. You wish you had an epiphany when you see yourself at his door, a moment to say 'wow why am I here?'. But you know yourself enough to know why, you know Jeonghan enough to know why you are at his door.

You know Jeonghan will open the door for you, and you hope deep down that he will hunt Laurel-the-sattan-spit-roommate down.

When Jeonghan opens the door, he looks puzzled, his face shows that he is trying to understand what is happening. You are sure he was ready to say that he didn't order something and to check on his neighbor.

"What happened?" Jeonghan asks when he sees you on his door instead of a lost delivery guy.

"Laurel," you say, and before having the chance to say anything else, you already feel the pain, you don't want to cry but you end up doing that nonetheless. You even hiccup once or twice before you feel Jeonghan's arms against you, enveloping you, making you feel safe.

"What did she do?" Jeonghan tries again, one of his hands still around you, while the other cradles your head, his hand softly stroking your head.

"She sold my side table," you say, still hiccuping your way through the sentence and you feel so fucking dumb, crying in Jeonghan's arms, and you feel Jeonghan's body goes completely rigid before he holds your face in his hands and you almost flinch because you cannot face that man in this state, and second, his hands are cold.

"She sold your side table?" He asks and you just nod, it is the only thing you can do, "The side table?" He tries again just to receive the same reaction, his hands wrap around you, but this time he hugs you tighter, your head smashed against his chest and somehow you find a resemblance of comfort.

Jeonghan takes you to the kitchen, and when you feel his arms release you, you just sink to the ground, your back to the cabinets. Jeonghan hands you a cup of water, and hugs you again, his hands rubbing your back like you are some kind of a toddler, and that alone makes you sniff even more. That motion alone takes you back to your college days when you went back home to your auntie's funeral - Jeonghan drove the whole way, and the only sound inside the car was you crying. Back then you didn't know that Jeonghan lost an important exam so he could drive you back home, later when he was pilled with an ungodly amount of work and told you he needed to do an extra project so he didn't fluke his class you cried all over again - part of it because you felt guilty, part of it was because it was Jeonghan, and you could count on him for anything.

And here he was, years later taking care of you again. You never doubt he would, that alone - the certainty that Jeonghan is in your life should scare you, but it never did. Not now, and not even back in college when Seungcheol joked about every time a new girl showed up alongside Jeonghan. Somehow you knew that Jeonghan would be there if you needed him, if you ever shouted that man would run leaps. The thing was, Jeonghan never told you anything remotely close to make you believe that, he never promised you anything, but Jeonghan actions always reassured you that no matter what, he would be there if you needed him the most.

You think about it how - weirdly - you were never in that position, how you never once was that person to Jeonghan, the person that reassure Jeonghan or be someone he could lean on. There is a deep down desire that you don't quite acknowledge over the years - that you want to be someone important to Jeonghan. Someone as important as Jeonghan is to you.

When you feel you can finally breathe you get out of Jeonghan's hold to go to the bathroom, in a way searching a way to escape your own feelings and thoughts, pretending you just need to wash your face. When you return to the kitchen, Jeonghan is in the same place, sitting on the floor staring at his own hands. Now, calmer, you take the whole scene of the kitchen; the single glass of wine on the counter, the open bottle, Jeonghan's cellphone, and his notebook.

“Were you drinking?” You ask after a while, sitting on his sides and copying his positions - legs stretched and back flushed against the cabinets. The hiccups are still there but they’re less frequent now, and you can finally breathe on your own.

“Yeah I was,” Jeonghan says, stretching his legs and looking at his feet cladded with old socks.

Jeonghan thinks about the minutes before you arrived, how he was just scrolling on his phone and drinking alone because his mood was so dreadful that he didn't want to make anyone suffer in his company. The only person he would subject to a vent session was Seungcheol, so drinking alone was the only answer. The truth is plain and simple really - Jeonghan has been feeling miserable for quite some time now, mainly because even though it pays extremely well his job sucks. He works for and with shitty people, but it pays well, so that should be enough - why it isn't? But all of that seems so fucking small against the feeling of you losing the last physical thing of someone you loved, someone who was so important to you.

“Why were you drinking alone Jeonghan?” You ask, giving his thigh little taps but still looking ahead - you see yourself in the mirror, you are so swollen you can't face the man like that.

“I,” Jeonghan ponders, thinking about if it is the right time to just go on a tangent about how he works sucks, how his best friend isn't talking to him, and how he wants to go back to his high schooler self and just start everything over, even if he fucks everything over is way better than this gray area that he is stuck on. “We can talk about me another time,”

“Just," You breathe deeply, your head almost knocking against the counter door, "do it for me then,” you tell him softly, almost pleading, “tell me so I can take my mind off this shit.”

“I think,” Jeonghan says, “no, scratch that,” he laughs dryly, “I am sure that I am fucking miserable,” he looks at you waiting for your reaction, “and I’ve been miserable for a while, I just fucking hate everything,”

“Han-” you try to say, and you almost feel like you don't have tears anymore, but if you could physically cry you would.

“I am not depressed, don’t worry, I just,” he trails off, “I hate that fucking job and if I have to spend another year there I would probably kill a rich guy, I have a few investments, and I have savings, and I-”

“You should buy the house,” You blurt out, remembering Jeonghan's eyes looking at the pictures of the house.

“What?” Jeonghan says almost choking on nothing.

“You should buy the house, just give me one room and I will pay rent, we can share utilities and food, and then you can quit,” you declared like it was something people just do on a whim, like you are not even having a stroke just thinking about the process of ending your lease contract, but the sky can open you are not sharing another day in that apartment.

“Not a great deal when I have a fucking loan on my name,” Jeonghan bemused, almost laughing at your non-sense.

“Just don’t tell the bank,” you shrug.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, almost like he is trying to assess the situation, see how everything could plan out from different angles.

“Come on, tell me,” You say finally caving into your curiosity, poking Jeonghan with your elbow.

“Tell you what?” Jeonghan asks but you can feel the playful tone in his voice, almost a childlike wonder of being caught doing something he shouldn't do.

“What is the plan?” You whisper - you don't know why but this whole thing seems like a secret, like something Jeonghan doesn't want to see the light of day yet, something he has been keeping under wraps.

“What plan?”

“I know you Jeonghan," You say finally looking at him, a small smile still stretched across his face, "I have known you for quite a while, come on, don’t underestimate me,”

“What are you talking about?” Jeonghan says playing the fool but the smile is still there, making you probe a little bit more.

“I know you, you would never think about quitting without a black plan besides having a few savings and weird investments, tell me,” You almost pleaded, turning your body to him, your hands on his thighs supporting your own weight on him. And you know you need to bring out the big guns - the begging eyes, almost laughing at yourself.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan laughs at you, his head tilting back and all, like you are the most amusing creature ever.

“Come on,” you urge, using your hands on his leg to almost shake him.

“It is not a plan, it is a desire,” he begins, “I’m thinking about sitting down and doing a few design classes, it can be online but,”

“No-” You say surprised, your smile big across your face because you know where this is going.

“Maybe,” he says still leaning on the counter, eyes closed and that infuriating smile still on.

“You can totally do it,” you tell him almost jumping on your place.

“It is not a plan yet,” he explains, in a vain attempt to make you tone down your excitement, but every time he looks at you he thinks he can give you that, soothe your pain with his dreams and hopes that won't really get out of paper. At least today he can do that for you.

“I can help you,” you say, finally changing positions and sitting almost by his feet, facing him, Jeonghan's hand on your ankle.

“How can you help me?” He asks you, squeezing your ankle and you pretend you are going to kick him, but he just holds your ankle and puts it on his lap.

“We can do it,” you say completely seriously because you truly believe he can do it, achieving his teenage dream job. “You know me, I am an army general, I have discipline, and I love a good worksheet, I am an editor,"

“What you being an editor has to do with it?” Jeonghan says while he tickles your feet, making you almost jerk.

"Stop that," you say using your other to nudge him, "I did a few children's books mind you,” you say, using your free hand to pinch Jeonghan's feet in the form of a threat, “I know how to promote things, I know how to deal with due dates and with manufacturers, you just need to sit down after lunch watch your boring ass class like a college student and hand your resignation letter,”

“It is not something that will actually work and be profitable,” Jeonghan huffs.

“Jeonghan, be honest with me,” you say, this time in a more serious tone.

“Okay,” He says, hands leaving your feet and closing together on his stomach.

“Would you ever take that leap with you couldn’t live till 90 years old with the money you have on the back?” You joke, breaking him in half, his laughter resonating in the kitchen.

“No?” He jokes back.

“We are doing it,” you say like his opinion in his own laugh and plans don't actually matter that much, but Jeonghan just smiles back at you - sometimes, he thinks about how you are the only one who can actually match his insanity, the only one that goes with his plan, or come up with even weird ones.

And Jeonghan knows he is fucked, because every time he thinks he can’t love you more you show him that love grows and expands beyond borders. Lately, Jeonghan favorite song is My Love Mine All Mine, and when he looks at you, in his kitchen, face still swollen and red from crying Mitski sings in his ear - Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine Nothing in the world is mine for free But my love, mine, all mine, all mine. It resonates with him, the fact that his love for you is his to carry. And this alone makes Jeonghan happy in a weird way, because he knows how much love you deserve, and he is happy that he is the one that loves you, and he loves you for free.

Even though Jeonghan knows you don’t love him like he does love you he thinks about how you are the only person that is always there for him. Everyone that he knows would make Jeonghan just let it go. Why the fuck he would build a business around children’s toys? Why would he resign and leave a great career that gives enough money and intel to just go around and draw a few rabbits and frogs on a page? Just because of joy? Jeonghan always knew that joy alone could not make you survive on this earth.

But yet you were doing just that. Telling him to drop everything and just try to be happy. Right now Jeonghan could drop on his knee and ask you to marry him if you weren’t legally married and if he wasn’t a fucking coward. Sometimes he hates himself for that, the way he holds onto something he knows it is not quite enough but it is the only thing he can have.

Jeonghan thinks about- everything really, but mostly how joyful you are in your own way. How you would buy sweet treats just for the sake of it, how you had every single first copy of the books you worked on even if they were beaten in the process and almost unreadable. He thinks about the first time you showed up on his door, a big book in hands and a smile across your face, buzzing full of pride because it was your first fucking book and your boss give you one in the very first batch - back then you were just the one that did the toughest job, reviewing everything.

Jeonghan knows he loves you, he knows for quite a while.

Jeonghan knew before the first girlfriend dumped him because he was jealous of you. When his third girlfriend asked him if he liked you he couldn’t even lie, when his fifth girlfriend broke up and for the fifth time, the reason was you he just stopped trying dates altogether.

Jeonghan doesn't remember much of the marriage itself, he remembers bits and pieces of an Elton John in a 70's costume and how the chapel was way hotter, making Jeonghan's armpits wet, not a great look for a groom. But he remembers everything before that - in a less hazed lens. He remembers telling you in the hotel bar how he loved you for quite a while now, and how you looked so shocked - telling him he should quit lying. He swore on his first dog's grave, weirdly that made you believe him. He told you how he hated Mark - your college boyfriend that literature guy who gave you poems that you still keep as presents, he remembers you saying how you would keep every post-it note if Jeonghan wrote them in the future. It was a promise, you said holding your pinkie finger out for him. He remembers buying you the ring, you outside the store because he knew you would think that the chosen ring was too much, too big, too expensive, any ring will do it you told him before letting him inside, but he couldn't do it, he could only choose the prettiest ring for the prettiest girl. 

Jeonghan remembers his vow, promising he would take care of you, that he would write love letters for the rest of his life on every special date because you hated presents. And Jeonghan remembers how you two kissed in the chapel, on the uber back to the hotel, in the hotel room - more than you should have, because now it is the only thing he can think about it and you don't fuck remember. Jeonghan thought about running, about changing cities and even country - investments were pretty much the same everywhere in the world really. But the reality was that even if he moved, his love was still his to keep, and he would do that heartedly. He was a coward, but he still had his pride, and if that was the price to pay, then, be It.

“Hey, come here,” He says, finally lifting himself off the ground.

“What?” You ask, looking at him still sitting on the floor.

“Come here,” He says again, giving his hands so you can get up.

“What? You are weird what is going on,” you say finally getting up on your feet.

“Come here,” Jeonghan says and before you approach him his arms are already by your side, enveloping you in a thigh hug. “Thank you,” he says softly, “thank you for everything really,”

“Are you drunk Yoon Jeonghan?” you ask, your own voice muffled by the tight embrace.

“No,” Jeonghan laughs, and you can feel his whole body move, “I’m serious, thank you for being there for me even when you have shit on your own to deal with,” He says, his chin on top of your head, “and thank you for not thinking I am a commitment phobic asshole.”

“You are still on that? I told you I never saw you like that stop being dumb."

“I know, I am just-” Jeonghan doesn't finish his sentence, his arms still around you, his heart beating by your ear.

“Look you are drunk, at least there is nothing much we can fuck up being drunk together after getting married in Vegas," you say and Jeonghan feels a pang, almost like when he stubs his little finger on the corner of random furniture, but he doesn't say anything, "give me a sip of your wine you asshole,” you say getting free of his embrace and holding the bottle of wine

“Come on! Don’t drink it straight from the bottle, there is a glass right there!” Jeonghan protested.

“Come on Yoon Jeonghan, I know you, I know you since you didn’t have enough cups in your first kitchen, don't play the proper guy with me,” you say like basic manners don't exist, and sitting on his counter.

“I grow up I am an adult now,” Jeonghan says, but he doesn't really move a muscle to pick another glass of wine for you, he thinks it is his biggest flaw - the fact that you can walk over him countless times and Yoon Jeonghan will just let you do whatever you want even if he pretends that it is against his will.

“Oh, totally,” You look at him, and even though the phrase itself has a bite to it your voice is honest, “Not to go back to sappy times, but you really did Hannie, you are really growing so much, and I am so proud of you,”

"Shhhh-” Jeonghan murmurs trying to shut you up and you know it is mainly because he is so fucking shy that you almost laugh.

“By the way,” You say taking another sip from the bottle. “I’m so moving in with you and I can even deal with only one room if you don’t sell any of my stuff.”

“Shut up,” Jeonghan says kissing the top of your head, “you can have the whole house, just don’t set it on fire.”

Ultimately, that actually happens.

You actually move with Jeonghan into his dream house. The house is 98% bare, without the furniture of the last owner besides the utilities. But a) it is better than living with your satan-spit roommate, b) Jeonghan has been sleeping on his own couch for over two weeks now because even though you say it is okay you can't spend that time in your own apartment he refuses to let you near Laurel.

But somehow, Jeonghan and you make a home out of the new house. You take the bookshelves on the left, all the books you edited in your lifetime on a special shelf right in your point of view. Jeonghan takes the bookshelves on the right, a lot of the books you edited and gifted him are scattered across it because he doesn’t really care about arranging his shelves in a particular order.

Every time Jeonghan sees a nice piece of furniture he sends you a picture of it, and you two chat about if it fits the room, and the colors would clash. In a weird way your collection of cups and mugs triples the size, indeed you are engrossed with buying new ones, but the thing is - you always pick two of them now. Jeonghan’s favorite is a weird bunny mug that you never actually use because it ears always make drinking anything impractical.

You two also build a weirdly oiled routine. You two eat breakfast together, Jeonghan wakes up early and when he is just arriving for his morning run you are already scrabbling eggs. When Jeonghan is ready for work you are ready for your own run. When Jeonghan arrives from work you still have one hour to go, so in the end he is the one to always cook dinner. After you two share the dishes and eat something sweet as the dessert the kitchen counter - previously used as a dinner table, now acts an officer table.

While Jeonghan looks up some designer classes, you search manufacturers. When he draws a cute rabbit girl that he named Ttoram, you try to understand how a business works, how you file taxes for it? Sometimes Jeonghan does the dirty work himself after he finishes a new version so you get your pink glittery pen and write in post-it what you think about the new product; ‘what is this material arrow-drawing pointing to a specific part of a squish toy’, ‘her head seems big are you sure she won't flop head first in someone’s bed?’, ‘are you sure? I think lamps are quite expensive.

The house gets filled with new art supplies, sometimes Jeonghan orders a bunch of them online, and sometimes you are the one that brings back a single pen or a new colored pencil that you pick up in arts stories every time you go to a meeting. The house is filled with paper and drawings, your favorite ones is always the first drafts - the ones that Jeonghan does on the non-quality paper, the ones that he does on pieces of paper, the ones that look less refined and to you are filled with children-like joy.

Another curious thing is how somehow you and Jeonghan seemed very addicted to post-it. Besides the practical use in the drawing drafts because Jeonghan was an old soul who couldn’t do his work on an Ipad like a normal human being in this day and age, you also used to communicate - ‘please buy eggs!’ you wrote and left on the kitchen door, ‘already set a reminder on my phone so i don’t forget to stop at the market!’ jeonghan replied. “Didn’t see u before I left :( don’t forget to take breaks” he wrote, somehow the post-it ended up in your office, and you glued it on the computer screen beside one green post-it with a frog with a raincoat on.

Every time the fridge was out of space for new ones you took them off one by one, with a smile on your face, and kept them in a box, safely stored. You always noticed one or two missing but you always thought the wind knocked them out and Jeonghan, that traitor, threw them in the garbage. In short, everything stayed the same with a daily dose of domestic life. The problem was - that it didn’t stay the same for very long.

And as hard as it was to admit, it was your fault.

There was no way around it.

It weirdly began every time you saw Jeonghan around the stove. The fact that Jeonghan was beautiful-handsome-pretty was not news to you. You, and every human being that laid eyes on him, always reached the point where you acknowledged how pretty Jeonghan was. In college it was a fucking nightmare, guys and girls banging on his dorm room when you two were watching a movie just because they thought Jeonghan was alone - the fact that he didn’t have a roommate because he bribed someone (one of the most Jeonghan acts that you ever witnessed, but that was beside the point - really) only added to the fact that 87% of his course thought he was down to bang anytime. The truth was that you always knew that Jeonghan was someone objectively good-looking, but there was a catch, even though Jeonghan was beautiful you didn’t really feel attracted to him and he knew that. Countless times you told him he was too pretty for his own good along with the lines that he wasn’t your type, ‘what the fuck that supposed to mean’ he answered the first time you said that, back in high school. With time it turned out to be your standard answer to every girl that was attracted to him and wanted a shot with him but somehow thought he was your boyfriend.

You know that Jeonghan is good-looking, and you know that for fucking years so why are you going a little insane every time you get in the kitchen and the man is cutting some onions? Truly it happens in the weirdest hours, out of nowhere, your brain reminds you how hot Jeonghan is - and that is even scarier because you knew that the man was handsome, but hot? That’s a new development. Once he arrived from his morning run, his hair a little damp, sweat dripping down his neck, and only with a thigh shirt because he already removed his go-to wind-breaker and you almost collapsed on the kitchen floor. That alone was mind-blowing.

The horrors begin when you just couldn’t deal with his touch without your mind going to the fucking gutter. When he touched your hips to make your move because he wanted to open a drawer, or when he dropped down on the sofa without leaving space between your bodies, his hand tapping your thigh. Out of nowhere, you are combusting because his hand feels hot against your skin, goosebumps appearing across your skin Jeonghan asks you if you are cold. And the fact that Jeonghan is touching you isn't necessarily super weird, he always did that, but somehow you feel that his touches changed and you can't quite pinpoint how besides the fact that you are reacting differently.

It doesn't really help your case that Jeonghan develops a weird habit of wrapping his arm around your neck. It happens everywhere, even in public and every time you can feel yourself grow a little hotter. You were supposed to pay attention to Minghao’s new paintings, a designer slash illustrator slash painter whom you worked with for a few book covers, and somehow in the middle of the opening of his new exposition, you can’t even think about the impasto on his oil paintings because Jeonghan hands feels heavy on your neck, his fingers touching the lateral of it almost rubbing. Every time you take a step to try to see the paintings up close Jeonghan doesn’t let you leave his hold, his body close enough to be pressed against your back, half of your back feeling hot because of his presence, half of it feeling cold because of his absence.

“Hao!” You say when you finally see the man of the hour, black hair on black coats, his hands behind his back looking around all the people that came just to appreciate his work.

“Hey,” He says opening his arms for you.

“Congratulations,” you say feeling the arms of Minghao around your back, your body though prefer to pay attention to the weight of Jeonghan’s eyes on you, “everything is mind blowing,” you say to the man - his hands still on your body, yours on his shoulder, until you hear Jeonghan clearing his throat in order to get you to notice his existence, and you almost laugh, “Hao this is Jeonghan, Jeonghan this is Minghao.”

“Great job man,” Jeonghan says in a weird tone, giving Minghao two little pats on the back and taking a step by your side, his hand on your waist.

“Thank you,” Minghao says politely, like he always does, “It is a pleasure to meet you, you are in the book industry too?” Minghao asks with his hands in his pocket,

“No,” Jeonghan almost scoffs, him? and books? God forbid, “I work with investment these type of things,”

“Oh, so you are not in the art business then,” Minghao acknowledges and you know his interest peaked even though you don't know why, maybe because you know Jeonghan so well you don't have much to unfold, while Minghao just seems weirded out by the fact that you have a Wall Street dude by your side.

“Oh Hao you always flatter me when you include me in the art business,” you say jokingly, reminiscing one of the many conversations you had with Minghao over a bottle of wine.

“I told you," a sly smile across his face, "books are a matter of passion.”

“You did,” you say somewhat reminiscing of the talk you two had back then. It was after calling him up for his second cover, after a meeting where he made you go through the book's motifs and ideas so he could have a feeling of what he should focus on.

“You should come to the after party,” Minghao says, “we could catch up,”

“Yeah I don’t think we can,” Jeonghan says while he checks his watch, he knows the question wasn't directed to him, he isn't stupid and he has two eyes, but he also is a stubborn motherfucker and now he just wants to ruin Minghao's night, and he is not about to Banksy this place up with shredded art pieces - because he is afraid his bank account can't take the lawsuit. “I have a work meeting tomorrow morning” Jeonghan reminds you, his fingers still on your waist.

“Still,” Minghao says, looking puzzled by you two, “you can stay right?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” you say sorry “Han is driving us back so-”

“Is your phone number still the same?” Minghao asks without dropping a beat, and Jeonghan can give him that, he doesn't know Minghao but the guy just doesn't quit - he knows a stubborn guy when he sees one.

“Yeah, I didn’t change, but if you need you can e-mail me and-” You say before someone calls Minghao, it is his opening after all, a guy in the suit makes a gesture to him when the three of you look to see who was the owner of the voice.

“Sorry, I have to go, but I will call you," He says before giving you a kiss on the cheeks and walking to the guy who just called him.

Jeonghan snorts, really, what was that? He shouldn't find it so funny but it is. He takes a step back, his hands leaving you, while he looks at the painting. You know he is just pretending to analyze everything.

“What?” You ask him - missing his hand on your waist, on your neck, missing his presence around you.

“Nothing,” he says shaking his head, he is biting back a smile - laughter really, and you want to know what it is so funny, you are curious about what is going on in his head.

“It can’t be nothing come on,” you press on, your hand on his shoulder in a way to get some sort of touch from him, to regain some sort of proximity.

“Just-” Jeonghan stops, in front of another painting, his hand going back to your waist, and at the same time you think you can finally breathe again, your breath feels trapped in your throat, making you swallow on nothing, “You didn’t tell me it was an opening night to your ex-fling," he says. Eyes almost tinkling under the light and you know where this is going.

“Hao isn’t my ex fling what are you talking about?” You pretend, trying to get out of this situation because you know somehow Jeonghan will pry on, and he knows how to push your buttons enough just so you can spill everything he wants to know.

“Not fling then," Jeonghan says, hand still on your waist when he starts walking around the gallery with you by his side, until another painting that he really doesn't really care about, "an one night stand.”

“He is a friend," almost rolling your eyes at him, "I told you, I know him because of work,”

“So you are telling me you guys didn’t fuck?” And even though his words my seem harsh his tone is still light - he was truly a jerk but why are you smiling at him?

“Jeonghan, what the fuck?” You yelped, making Jeonghan's sly smile appear again.

“What?” He asks eyes still on you when you pretend to pay attention to the orange painting in front of you.

“Keep your voice low,” you mouthed, “we didn’t fuck,” you tell him again, and it was the truth, but somehow Jeonghan knew how to read between your words.

“Well,” he began, still looking at you even when he tilted his head to the side, a sly smile still on his face like he could see through you like you couldn't keep anything under wraps, and you could feel the goosebumps on the nape of your neck, your whole body tingling, “I am pretty sure it wasn’t for lacking trying on his part.”

“It would be too messy,” you finally blurt it out.

“Ah of course," Jeonghan laughs again and it almost sounds bitter to you, "so he did try, it was after or before saying the book and passion line?”

“After,” you say, your time to laugh, even though you feel the heat on your skin, a crazy addition to new feels because you are not one to actually feel shy around Jeonghan.

“And you laid him down too gently,” he acknowledges, eyes moving through the room again. You follow his gaze, seeing Minghao watching the both of you across the room, you just greet him with a smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask him, pressing your body on his sides until his arms are back on you.

“Well," Jeonghan breathes, his eyes still rummaging around the room, "I know you can break a guy's heart but apparently you lost your touch with that one because he is still down to fuck.”

“Jeonghan!” You gasped, “No he isn’t you are seeing things like you always do.” You tell him, Jeonghan had this weird superpower that he tuned in college - he could tell a guy was somehow interested in you from miles away, the first few times you actually made a bet on it; fifteen dollars, to pay him for a meal, to go with him to a frat party that his friend Soonyoung was hosting. After the fifth time, you just learned that was better to trust his judgment on it.

“Oh yeah, it truly takes a mind reader to see a guy ogling you across the room and telling you to show up at the after party even tho you have a guy on your arm," Jeonghan almost scoffs, then he leans down, his mouth close to your ear, "truly, his intention was indeed to talk about the impasto or the lighting or the shadow of his hard-on,”

“Jeonghan” you accuse again slapping his arm playfully, laughing at his antics “If I trusted you my ego would be in the clouds because every walking human being apparently wants to fuck me according to you.”

“Not everyone but a great part of it, sure." He deadpans.

“Sure, apparently you are the only exception who else?”

“I’m not,” Jeonghan deadpans again, just shrugging. Because it is not actually something he tried to hide over the years, it is nothing something that he is ashamed of either. And he is pretty sure it is something you already know since college so he doesn't have to lie about it. Jeonghan might be a coward, but he isn't really a liar.

“What?”

“I tried to get in your pants my whole high school years," He says, his eyes still on the painting, or everything that catches his attention, his eyes are everywhere really but on you. "I just gave up after the few first months of college”

“What the hell?” You try again. Everything feels kind of abnormal in your head. The way that Jeonghan says those words - like he is saying that you two should buy soap the next time you both go do groceries, it freaks you out. How can he be so normal about all of that?

And how could you be so clueless? Everything shifts in your brain - like the earth just changed its axes. He never told you anything closer to this, you are sure of it. You never suspected that Jeonghan liked you back then, or scratch that, that he tried to get in your pants. It seems something so unreal that you are having a hard time wrapping your mind around it - around the idea of a teenager and younger Jeonghan wanting something from you that you never really saw happening.

“What the hell what?” Jeonghan stopped dead on his track, finally looking at you, “You didn’t know that?”

“Of course not,” you say exasperated.

“Oh, I thought you were laying me down gently too,” he added, in the most neutral tone possible, making your head spin a little.

“No, I had no idea,” and it is true. You remember everyone from college who thought you and Jeonghan were a couple back then, everyone who found it weird when you two answered that you were just friends. You remember Seokmin, and you think about Seungcheol's words in Vegas and everything is hazed, a little out of focus. “Why did you give up tho?” You ask him.

“I just,” he says still looking forward and avoiding your eyes like the plague, “I mean, besides the fact that you got into he is not my type phase I would never kiss that man, the fact that I tried for four years and it didn’t happen led me to believe that never would, so...”

“I needed to make clear to every girl that was falling and tripping over you that I was not your girlfriend, they were pretty sure we were high school sweethearts back then”

“I think everyone we know somehow ends up thinking we are in a relationship,” he says, “I mean, clearly not goth impasto guy because that would be crazy, hitting on a woman with her husband on her side but”

“You need to pick up your husband's game,” you say kidding, while walking around the gallery with him, “I was indeed mistaken to be a single woman today.”

“I should have bought a bigger ring,” Jeonghan groaned, making you laugh, weirdly you still have the big ring on your finger.

“That’s not the answer,” you groaned because the man truly had this weird obsession with this ring and big rocks. You could tell him over and over again how you didn’t care about the ring or the rocks and he still found a way to make sure you were wearing the ring.

“And what is? If I try to be more territorial within the touch department we would be in jail for public indecency,” Jeonghan says low on your ear, his voice mischievously, while his hand presses on your hips, “Should we just go to jail?” Jeonghan asks, his hands trying to go lower heading towards your butt.

“Jeonghan, don’t test me,” you say seriously, your hand holding his and bringing up on your body. Why the fuck didn’t Jeonghan behave like a proper human being? Why your heart is racing against your ribcage? Why you are enjoying this whole thing?

The whole night you can feel Jeonghan’s hand on you in some way, or on your lower back, your neck, fingers on your shoulder, making his presence known somehow. And every time you think you are starting to understand what happened - what Jeonghan said, what that meant, he touches you again and everything gets a bit hazed, taking you to the start again.  Should you read into everything that he said to you? Would you be able to deal with it?

Those questions are still going around your brain in the car back home. Home, that alone was something that didn't make sense either. The air in the car is so thick that you think you can't breathe, the fact that Jeonghan's hand is splayed against your thigh doesn't help with the issue. The curiosity gets the best of you - you want to know all the unsaid things, you want to get under his skin and discover everything Jeonghan even wanted.

He doesn't move his hand, he doesn't stroke your skin, his hand is just there. Again, a reminder of some sort, and you almost laugh - silly of him to think that his presence could go unnoticed by you. Jeonghan has always been there on your mind, and lately even more. It makes your mouth go dry. The feeling is back on the pit of your stomach again. What if? You ask yourself, what would have happened if Jeonghan said those things back then? Would the present be different? Would that have washed away all the curiosity about Jeonghan?

Arriving home you go straight to the sofa and plop down in the middle seat, taking your time to take off your high heels, you don’t know why but you still buy pairs with ankle ties - the bane of your existence when it is three hours later and you have a thigh dress on, maybe that’s why you think you hate those types of event, even though you had a great time, saw a few friends and enjoyed the night with Jeonghan, you always ended up tired with a few blisters on your feet. You can hear Jeonghan’s footsteps around the house while you massage your feet and try to ease the tension.

You turn your body so you can stretch your legs on the sofa, the pain on your calves is killing you. You don’t even turn when you feel Jeonghan entering the room, his perfume and the sound of his slippers are enough to make his presence known. It was always like that? Did Jeonghan's presence always engulf you? Did it always make you unable to focus on anything else? Did it always make you question your own sanity? He sits down on the sofa, in the same direction as you, his legs around yours, his front pressed on your back and you hold yourself back because you almost whimper when you feel your body melting against his.

“You’re tense,” Jeonghan says his voice low, his hands pressing the knots on your shoulders.

“I am always tense and stressed out,” you say, and it is the truth. Jeonghan doesn’t need to know that for the last few weeks the fact that he is the number one reason. You almost rub yourself against him, feeling a little bit crazy and hot all over - oh no.

“Hm,” Jeonghan acknowledges. When his fingers close around your neck you almost jump on your seat, his thumbs traveling across the knots of your spine, and you are not strong enough to not whimper this time, “there’s a lot of things you could do to distress.”

“Like what? A guided meditation?” You joke, trying to get away with it, trying to downplay every reaction of your body.

“Fuck those apps,” he mutters under his breath, he is so close you can feel his breath against your nape.

“Yeah right there,” You say when his thumb presses down in a particular knock on your back.

“This one?” You just nod, don’t trust yourself enough to utter a word that doesn’t sound like a humiliated noise. Since when did you turn into a mess in Jeonghan’s hand? But you just accept your fate, feeling how soft your body feels against his. “Can I open this?” Jeonghan asks, his voice so low you barely hear, but he is so close to you that your ears catch his question.

And you still don’t trust yourself, so you nod again. Jeonghan drops the zipper of your dress and takes his time to gather your hair in his hands, and taking them out of his way, letting your locks rest on your shoulder. His fingertips trails the collar of your dress again, and you can feel the goosebumps across your skin and you know Jeonghan can see them as well.

You can feel the way that Jeonghan’s fingertips travel down your spine as he opens the zipper of your dress. And you close your arms around your chest, in order to maintain the dress in place because you can feel how loose the fabric feels against your body after the zip is down. But apparently, Jeonghan is not even close to satisfied because his fingers are tugging the straps of your dress down your arms.

Jeonghan’s fingertips are still on your skin, stroking your arms when you feel his lips against your shoulder. Before you can think about anything your own body reacts before you, giving space so Jeonghan can continue kissing the column of your neck. Everything feels a little surreal, a blur, you can't quite grasp-

Then, your cellphone starts to ring bringing you back to reality.

“Don’t pick up,” Jeonghan tells you, almost like a whisper against your ear, his hands still around your waist - but then your phone rings again and again and reality comes crashing again and again.

And you want to say that you are ok with almost being undressed on Jeonghan’s lap, that it is ok the way his thighs cage you, that it is ok how his hands feel hot against your body and how his lips feel against your neck. But your phone rings again and it must be important so you stretch yourself and try to find your phone inside your bag by feel. When you finally can reach the phone dies, and you can feel Jeonghan’s smile across your skin - like he just won. But before you can drop the phone you feel it ringing again, and when you pick up the big font appears on the screen ‘seungcheol is the best’. You can feel Jeonghan’s hand freeze against your body, the way he just goes rigid.

“Don’t pick up,” He says again but now something is different - his voice is not low.

“It must be something important,” you reasoned, because it is true. You have been trying to get a hold of Seungcheol since before leaving Vegas and yet the man didn't answer you once.

“Just-” Jeonghan tries, and you can feel his squeezing your shoulders again, almost in a silent plea.

“I haven’t talked to him since Vegas, it must be something important,” You say, your own hands going to his in an effort to show him that you understand what he is trying to say.

“Are you truly doing this right now?” Jeonghan asks and when you don't answer him he already knows.

You look at him but Jeonghan just gets up and off the sofa and leaves the room, in the end, you choose to just pick up your phone and answer it with a low “Hey cheol,” so low that Seungcheol asks if you were sleeping.

Seungcheol tells you he wants to meet, to talk about things. And you say yes because why not? You pick yourself up and close your dress. Before going to your room you stop at Jeonghan's door and before you lose all the courage that you have in your body you knock on the door, nothing, and you try again just to hear the sound of the shower across the room when you glue your ear against the door.

When you lie on your bed you don't really can close your eyes. You feel restless, your mind wavering, and you can't stop thinking about Jeonghan.

What would that mean?

If you took that leap would Jeonghan be there if everything fell apart? A shiver runs down your spine because it is the first that the answer would be a no. You ask yourself why now. What made Jeonghan change?

And you can't even look back anymore - you can't even think about your friendship with Jeonghan without it being tinted, his words echoing in your brain, "I just gave up". You play the whole conversation back in your head, almost like an old VHS tape - rewinding and pressing play, trying to see everything in another angle, rewinding, asking yourself what that meant, rewinding, thinking back, rewinding and pressing play - unfolding all the touches, and the times Jeonghan's hand lingered on your body.

You rewind until the sleep gets the best of you when it is already bright outside.

You wake up to the sound of your phone, Seungcheol calling you because he will run a little late, of course, you say while he just laughs because it is so clear that you were sleeping. When you run down the stairs, almost falling on it because your brain isn't functioning yet, you don't find Jeonghan anywhere. When you look at the fridge and there are no new notes, your heart breaks a little.

The coffee that Seungcheol chooses is pretty, and not very crowded, and even though Seungcheol is late is not a big deal, you use the time to go over a few manuscripts and spreadsheets with a cup of coffee on your side. Or at least you try to, but the truth is that you send Jeonghan a few messages and every time your phone pings you need to check if he is the one answering you - it isn't.

When Seungcheol arrives, you see him first, still from afar, his hair is shorter now. You almost laugh because that is definitely not a Seungcheol's choice, nor a haircut. His hair screamed his fiancée's name.

"Hey stranger," he says sitting across from you.

"Hey yourself," you greet him back, almost laughing at how awkward this whole thing is. Seungcheol and you walking around eggshells. Neither you nor Seungcheol wants to start talking about the whole elephant in the room - Yoon Jeonghan.

You ask him about the wedding preparation, it is going nice he says, he was late because he needed one last fit on his suit. His mother nagged over and over about how he shouldn't wear a navy blue suit, his future wife nagged about how it couldn't be black because the whole vibe of the afternoon wedding was different from a night wedding.

"I'm just happy that you guys worked everything out," Seungcheol says after a while, sipping on his coffee.

"Cheol," You try your heart already tugging on your inside.

"No really," he smiles at you, the way he always does - with a fondness you can't quite handle, like after all those years he still sees you like the kid you once were. Someone who didn't really have hold of her life and in a way, after all those years you feel like that again. "I did a lot of thinking," Seungcheol chuckles, "I think that I always have been envious of Jeonghan in a way," he breathes loudly, almost trying to gather up courage, "here I was, with my wedding date set up and still having doubts about how I feel and if I should go on with it." Seungcheol scratches her head almost like he is ashamed to tell you the truth, "And there is my friend, right? I think that the thing I always admired about Jeonghan was how consistent he was, you know me, in that way, we are alike right? We see shine things and we run towards them, a new project, a thing we like, don't even say anything about the golf gear I swear to god," he says abruptly making you laugh, and it was true in that sense you and Seungcheol were very much the same. "But Jeonghan is consistent, that man's mind is a fucking rock," Seungcheol says like a jab and you can understand why, "and yet he is more sure about you than I am about my fiancée really. And he has been sure for years, I still don't know what made him make a move-, he didn't talk to me prior to that, but I am truly happy that you guys figured it out, it took you long enough."

"I don't even know what to say," you breathe, looking at Seungcheol. You can't blurt out the words - physically unable to tell him. You think about what you should say, you should tell him -'we are not together', 'we didn't figure it out'. You want to tell the truth, you want to come clean, but you just can't. "But yeah, he has always been there for me" you laugh a little soulless. It is not a lie either, but it is not the whole truth, Yoon Jeonghan has always been there for you, but now all the other pieces of the puzzle are coming together. "I think the only thing that hurt him was you going on and on about his commitment issues or whatever.

"It's-" Seungcheol breathes, "it wasn't like that. I mean, sure, he can't commit to anyone who isn't you," he shrugs, "I think it was back when you were going out with that lit kid right? god" Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head like he just found a memory in his treasure box, "Jeonghan was so jealous back then," Seungcheol continues, reminiscing,  "he would get furious every time that guy would give you a letter, a poem, anything really. I don't know how you didn't catch up on how much he hated that guy's gut if he dissed the poor kid."

"I just thought-" you stop to think about it, "I don't even know what I was thinking back then, but I never once thought it was because of jealousy, he was dating like 3 girls at the same time back then," you tell, felling the bittersweet taste on your mouth.

"Well," Seungcheol takes another sip, "you know Yoon Jeonghan, when he doesn't get what he wants he tends to fuck everything up and push himself to do shit just out of spite. His high school crush and love of his life found her first boyfriend, how do you think he would handle that? What he could do about that? Try to write poems better than Mark? He tried to believe they were all shitty, trying to forget you was the last thing he could do for himself, even that didn't actually work."

And you feel like you are about to go into overdrive.

It is one of your flaws really, you were never one who would react quickly - your brain always trying to assess and digest everything before being able to take a leap. The problem was that you needed to unpack more than ten years, to go through every file of your life with Jeonghan and try to find a new meaning, trying to find a clue, in search of something you don't know yet, but that could make you understand, or realize.

You spend the whole day feeling a weird taste in your mouth.

The thing is, you can't quite pinpoint what are you feeling, you can't really name it. It somehow resembles feeling betrayed, you think, that you have a cheating boyfriend and everyone knows his secret but nobody has the courage to tell you, and when you actually find out you are the last one to know.

You take your time walking around town and even figure out the longest route to Jeonghan's house.

Even that sounded weird rolling off your tongue.

You try again - picking random memories to try to see if you can find a hiding meaning somewhere, a clue, evidence of Jeonghan's feelings. A crush you could understand, something small like an affection with an expiration date you could understand. You could understand the curiosity that grew in the past month.

But Seungcheol's words didn't point to that, Seungcheol's words were actually pointing in the opposite direction of that.

And if you were being honest with yourself, that made you afraid.

“I talked with Seungcheol,” you blurt out when Jeonghan finally arrives.

“Yeah, we are not going there,” Jeonghan says seriously, without looking at you - avoiding you at every cost. It is a tell, a clue that he doesn't want to talk about it. You don't want either, if you could you would never go there again, but you need to, because living things like they are right now, messy and all over the place aren't working.

“Jeonghan,” you groan, “we need to talk about everything that happened in Vegas, his wedding is in a few weeks."

“I think you were there when he said I wasn't invited so I am not really following right now," Jeonghan says his voice stuffy because his head is inside the fridge in search of something, maybe he is just trying to not look at you.

"He told me you are not answering his calls," You tell him, and before Jeonghan says anything he just scoffs and closes the fridge door without taking anything out. He doesn't actually move, but he doesn't look at you either, his head is hanging off his shoulders, and you know Jeonghan so well that you know that nothing will make him move. You know you are not going to win, but yet you press it on, because you are tired of things being left unsaid, of Jeonghan bottling everything out and things ending up being your fault.

"Why are you being so fucking stubborn about this?" You ask watching Jeonghan just shake his head, "he is your best friend."

“Yeah like Seungcheol’s is flawless,” he bites back.

“Jeonghan this is not the point right now-" You start before he cuts you off.

“It is never the point right?” He asks you, finally looking at you, still holding his weight on the counter, "Is never the point, is never the right time, is never them it is always me fucking it up because it is Jeonghan he is not serious, he can take it, you guys can go on and on and god forbid if someone doesn't wanna take more bullshit from you."

“Come one don’t get angry with me,” you plead.

“Of course, right, I can't even get angry," Jeonghan says before he heads to walk out of the kitchen.

"Jeonghan," You almost beg making him stop and look at you, "we really need to talk about everything."

"Talk about everything or for you to be Seungcheol's spokesperson?" He says, and when you don't answer he completes, "Then no, we are not talking”

“Of course, because that will solve everything," you say almost groaning, "he is your best friend for god's sake, he still thinks we are in a somewhat relationship, he wants to talk to you, he feels guilty for being an asshole. He is sorry." You try almost stomping your feet at every word.

"Well, good for him," Jeonghan says like words don't have enough weight to make him care.

"Come on Jeonghan I'm trying here," you whine.

"Trying to do what exactly?" He asks, "Did you ever think about what actually happened since Vegas?" He says finally looking at you, and you feel even worse. He almost laughs when you don't answer. "Okay, I did, I spent every single second thinking about it and I am really fucking tired of thinking about it. I tried to put it through a different lens, I tried to put myself in other people's shoes, I tried to be reasonable and understand everyone, look I really did, and I did a great job understanding that you forgot the whole damn thing, of course, you can forget me telling you that I am head over hills for you sure, you can forget that you were the one who kissed me back then sure, of course it happens, I mean," Jeonghan scoffs, "I understand for years what is a few more months right?"

"Jeonghan-"

"No, let me finish this because somehow it will be my fault again so let me make everything clear," he says - back again looking at every corner around the kitchen but not laying an eye on you; "Seungcheol knows, he always knew about everything, he knows how many girlfriends gave me fucking ultimatum and I always choose you. He knows how many women broke up with me because they knew I was in love with you, sure, everyone in my fucking life knew but you - I understand that too sure," he stops, breathing loudly and you feel the lump around your throat way to thigh, "and he fucking knows that if I could I would've got over this sooner, so yeah, maybe I was too fucking sensitive when my friend act like I was a fucking coward who has commitment issues and would never do anything about it sure, it's my fault great, I can be responsible for that. I can take that sure, I can take Seungcheol, what I can't take is you playing dumb after last night, that I can't take it, and to be fair I don't want to, I don't have to, and you don't have a lot of excuses this time, I guess you remember right? And I think that time I made myself pretty clear so this time you must know right?"

You have been building your life around Jeonghan's for years. In a way, Jeonghan's life and yours were beautifully intricate, to the point that you weren't quite sure where one ended and one began. You think about how would your life be without Jeonghan's presence, and how would your future look like. And that scared the shit out of you.

"And that took you how many years Jeonghan?"

"Don't do that," he says and his voice feels almost small.

"Sure, I am sorry if I'm being fucking selfish right now, but you had your own time to think about everything, right? You have had years to come to your own terms? I'm freaking out here, do you think that's easy for me? Do you think it is easy to think about the aftermath if this goes wrong Jeonghan? Sure I understand that maybe that is your tipping point great, I understand that, but you are my friend and I don't fucking know how we will go on if we fuck everything up," you laugh, "I think we already passed that apparently."

"We didn't fuck it up," Jeonghan says, "Why can't you trust me for once?"

"I do," You say, and it is the truth, you trust Jeonghan with your life, "I do, I am just scared. You took your time to figure everything out, but every time I look back now I think about everything you didn't tell me,"

"I told you everything," Jeonghan says and you can almost feel his desperation, "I was sincere about everything,"

"Now you are just telling lies," you say laughing dryly.

"Sure I didn't tell you everything, but the things I haven't told you are small in comparison."

"The fact that you like me isn't small Jeonghan," you say, and it finally downs on you, that this - his feelings are a huge thing that you can't quite hide.

"What I am trying to say is-" Jeonghan says, finally taking steps and getting closer to you, "I will not go anywhere," you hear him - even though it feels like he is whispering, "even if we fuck up, even if this doesn't work out, I will not go anywhere, if that's what you are afraid of then you have nothing to be afraid. I won't go anywhere because that would kill me more than would hurt you, and even though everyone around me thinks I am a masochist I would prefer not to die."

"I would rather not hurt you," you say and you feel like you could cry, "I am sorry if I ever did."

"You did," Jeonghan says, taking your hand, and holding it firmly like that act alone can show you how serious he is, "but nothing I couldn't take, even If you hurt me again, I can take it, I will take it." 

Even if both of you don't want to, things stay a little weird between the two of you for some time. Like both of you are back to being so conscious of each other presence that it is just weird to jump right back at it, or, actually, take a step in another direction. But things fall back into place - more because of Jeonghan’s attitude than yours. He is the one that calls you for dinner, and he is the one that hugs you when you enter the kitchen.

He is the one that is trying to make things not weird. And you love him for it, you just love him, heatedly.

And the thing is, you always loved Jeonghan, but somehow, this kind of love and appreciation feels new and it is so scary, it makes you realize how everything is so fragile. But, at the same time - it makes you curious, it makes you wonder, it makes you act first just to see Jeonghan’s reaction.

Like when Jeonghan’s is whining about something and how he wants to quit his work so bad and you just hug him - almost melting against his back, placing your chin against his should and you can see Jeonghan freeze for a few seconds before he starts to pay attention on the food again.

Or when you start to watch a movie together and Jeonghan just melts in your lap, falling asleep while your hand goes through his hair. The next day when you whine about it he sweats to God he didn't sleep, he was paying attention to the movie, if you want to he can say the whole movie plot and all.

When the first Ttoram prototype arrives you are so excited that when you both place the little bunny on the dinner table, when she flops down - face diving because her head is too big - you are so happy for him that you just hold his face and place a quick kiss on his lips. Jeonghan looking at you wide-eyed. You almost start to laugh before you mutter:

“I told you, her head is too big,” you say trying to place Ttoram upright again.

“It is her charm, her brain is so big that she is dumb,” He says his voice weirdly fond, hands on your body pulling you into him.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” You stare at him - that weird mischievous smile on his lips, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“You should be honored,” Jeonghan says, holding your face almost making you yelp because his hands are so freaking cold, “You are my muse after all.”

And you almost curse him. But the thing is Jeonghan is cute, so will let it pass.

The thing is most of the time you are giggling and kicking your feet at everything Jeonghan does - that crush is so weird because you used to be stronger than that, now you are just falling in all of his antics, and boy doesn't he love it.

He just says the weirdest things out of nowhere just so he can hear your laugh. He holds you every time he has a chance, just pulling you close to hug you. But his favorite part of this new thing is how movie night now is just the two of you starting a movie to just act like a horny teenager.

Jeonghan is always the one who initiates it in a way. Sometimes is just caressing your arm before you start kissing him and licking against his mouth. Sometimes he feels bold enough and places his hand under your hoodie. The details always change but he always ends up with a hard-on and feeling like his younger self.

And it is happening again, his cock is hard, and he can barely hear the movie that is playing on the tv because you are kissing him and he can feel himself melting against the bed, like his whole body is going limp.

It is stronger than him, really. He wants to stay calm and collected but before he knows it he is already a whimpering mess, fingers digging in on your waist, his hips moving on their own, searching for some kind of pressure.

It is such a weird feeling, feeling so boneless and yet, feeling like he is a string - being pulled thigh enough he is about to snap at any minute.

When you break the kiss Jeonghan almost whines but before he can say anything you are already kissing his jaw so he just breathes loudly - accepting everything you want to give him.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask low on Jeonghan’s ears and he almost drop dead right there, like a fucking high schooler, like a teenager who just cum on his pant and drop dead when see a woman naked. And that would be fucking humiliating. He waited for so long he can't just burst a fucking nut in his own pants.

Jeonghan wants to answer you, he wants to say yes and maybe even mutter a please and thank you but somehow his brain is not even working properly, he is beyond dumb. But his dick is hard against his pants and he cannot even think properly - his brain is working overcapacity right now to try to take everything in.

So he does the only thing he can do in the moment - he pulls you into a kiss, and it is messy but Jeonghan doesn’t really care, focusing on the way you taste against his tongue. Jeonghan feels your cold hand against his stomach and he almost jumps at the spot, but you just whimper against his mouth when he does the same thing.

Jeonghan thinks the two of you are beyond niceties - you just told him you want his dick in your mouth, so he lets his desires win, while one of his hands is holding your waist under your shirt, the other one he uses to grope your ass. He squeezes your ass and at the same time, he tries to get your body even closer. You end up with your leg over him, across his hips, Jeonghan with his last functioning neuron takes the chance to shove his hand under your shorts too.

“Han,” you say when you come up for air, hand still splayed across Jeonghan’s body. “Come on,” you try again whining.

“Hm?” Jeonghan questions, his eyes almost closed and his head bent.

“You don’t want to?” You ask, voice low, taking the time that he uses to think about an answer to trail your lips across his neck, sucking at his skin, “I really want to but if you don't that's okay?”

“Hm?” Jeonghan mumbles - for a second he has no idea what are you talking about, his mind focused on how you feel against his hands, the weight of your body against him, how every curve of your body is pressed against his, how you smell and you taste.

“Suck you off,” you say again against his neck, almost petulantly like Jeonghan isn't paying attention, and he really isn't, but you shouldn't blame a man.

“Fuck,” he says almost whimpering.

Jeonghan was never like this - in his life nor in bed. He was never a mess, not to this point. Jeonghan always pretended to be somewhat collected, holding the strings of his life tight enough he could make his own choices, but it was never like that when the topic was you. So when the feeling pools on his belly, a reaction to how your fingers feel against his throat, taking matters into your hands when you grab Jeonghan's chin and maneuver his face in an angle so you can have access to more of his skin.

Jeonghan thinks he can die like this - almost dry-humping your leg. But apparently, you have other plans, your hand tugging at his joggers. Jeonghan's only reaction is to lift his hips, trying to help. It doesn't help much, but it is enough for you to shove your hands under his underwear, making Jeonghan shiver. When your hand finally finds his dick he almost melts, the tip of your things trying to map out everything before you apply pressure on it. He moans softly before closing his eyes.

He wants to be patient and wants to take whatever you give him, but the truth is he can't quite hold back anymore. His hands left your body so he can get hold of your face, kissing you. "Want to see you," he tells you, using all his strength to take one of the straps of your pajamas down. Kissing your shoulders, trying to map your collarbones with his mouth.

When Jeonghan tries to move the strap down your arm you don't budge, shaking your head telling him no, "don't want to stop touching you," and Jeonghan almost short circuit when your hand wraps around him and give his dick a few tugs.

"I know baby," Jeonghan coos, almost delirious out of his mind, his hand holds your wrist and takes out of his cock and the way that you just whine makes him even more desperate. His whole body is limp, almost melting. Jeonghan thinks he might die if he doesn't get naked, but he is too entertained with the view of your boobs in his face.

He knows there is an easier way to do this but fuck it, he is not in his right mind. Instead of taking out your flimsy excuse of a pajama Jeonghan just shoves It down, tugging at the end of the fabric while he kisses your chest. The way that you hold his head is so delicate that makes Jeonghan feel weirdly treasured even if he is completely debauched lapping at your skin. And Jeonghan takes his time, appreciating every inch of your skin

He could spend hours like this, he thinks - almost melting against you, kissing your chest lazily. He drags his tongue across your skin until he can reach your nipple, his hands come up your body until he can grab your boob so he can angle just right before his mouth is back to your body. Jeonghan thinks he can die like that, it would be a good way to go - your fucking tits on his face, your body pressed on his, his hard-on against your thigh, everything feels dizzy. When you shove your chest on Jeonghan's face, holding his face against you, he just takes it because he is so down and so horny that taking it is the only thing he can do.

"Hannie," you call and Jeonghan really just has enough strength to look up at you, without his mouth leaving your chest, "Just let me-" you try to say without much control of your own situation.

It is not like you are in your right mind either. Jeonghan's hands feels warm on your skin, and he holds you so tight that you think about the aftermath of his grip - you should make a mental note to check for marks after this, and that alone makes you tremble. You can only think about how Jeonghan's body feels against yours, how his mouth is still on you, and you want to cry because it is just so good but not enough. You feel you might cry. Or worse, die.

You press Jeonghan down until his back is pressed down on the mattress. And God he is so pretty, it makes you almost feel delirious.

When you sit down on Jeonghan's hips he feels like he is almost dying. Everyone he ever wanted felting very pale in comparison when he lay his eyes on you - hair already a mess, lips red from kissing him, flimsy shirt pooling at your waist. Your hands sneak under his shirt, and he almost laughs, damn he must be looking so dumb right now - feeling and behaving like a fucking virgin while his crush is on his lap, taking her time with him. You lift Jeonghan's shirt, dragging your hands underneath it, almost whining and frustrated when the shirt doesn't stay around his neck. Cute - he thinks, when you pout Jeonghan realizes he said that out loud.

"Just take it off," you whine again, tugging at his shirt.

Jeonghan just nods, holding your hips for leverage until he is sitting upright, holding the back of his shirt and taking it off in record time, before Jeonghan lies down again he feels your hand on his chin, holding him so you can kiss him again. Damn, he is lucky. But before he can think another thought you are pushing him back on the bad again, his hand on your hips.

Your hands travel on his body, caressing him - making him feel so close to losing his mind it is almost ridiculous. When Jeonghan's feels your fingers graze his neck he feels almost delirious, when your hand palms his chest and your digits press against his nipples it Is his time to whine, he almost feels like it is just too much, maybe he is closer than a step away from coming in his pants.

One of your hands is splayed against Jeonghan's stomach when the other one tugs  the waistline of his pants, pulling the elastic band and letting it hit against Jeonghan's skin. You shuffle around his hips, sitting on his thighs now and Jeonghan is ready to complain when you tug on his pants again, this time actually getting the cloth to move and get it stopped by Jeonghan's hard-on.

"Baby," Jeonghan mumbles, "that's too much," he tries again, but apparently there is nothing he can say to make you stop - and in all honestly he doesn't want you to.

Jeonghan thinks he will die if he doesn’t get his dick free. Even though he doesn’t want to he takes the hand off your ass so he can take down his joggers, shoving his underwear down at the same time, his other hand still firm on your waist.

When your fingers close against Jeonghan’s shaft he almost sees stars. You give him a few experimental tugs. He feels so breathless, how is that even possible?

You almost scoff, looking at how even his dick is pretty - really, you should complain because it is so unfair. You press your finger on his slit, collecting the drop of precum, and the way that his dick twitch it makes your mouth water, but before you can even complete your thoughts Jeonghan’s hand is holding your face and bringing it down to another kiss.

If it was up to Jeonghan he would kiss you the whole night, but you had other ideas, using one hand to shove him until he is lying again when the other one is still on his dick. He is pretty sure he can feel your taste against your mouth but yet he feels parched. When you start to press kisses on his body, the only thing Jeonghan can do is take it.

Jeonghan thinks you want to wreck him. He feels you press your lips against his nipples, his hips buckling on its own, and you stroke his dick a little bit harder. Jeonghan can barely breathe, yet, without wasting a second you are doing it again - pressing your lips to his other nipple and licking it.

Before he can even wrap his mind around that you start to lick his belly and Jeonghan almost sees stars. He just feels everything, and apparently, your tongue dragging against his skin goes straight to his dick. Jeonghan doesn't know how, but he lifts himself up on his elbows, the view alone could make him cum - you still kissing him, lips on his hips, pressing Jeonghan's dick against his tummy, fingers rubbing his frenulum and he is just so sensitive that he groans before he can hold your hand making you stop.

"Too sensitive?" You ask and why the fuck do you sound so out of it when Jeonghan is being pulled and pushed around the edge?

"A little," Jeonghan answers breathlessly, his tongue dry against his mouth.

"Ok, noted," you say before doing something even worse - placing your lips on the same place before kissing the tip of his dick.

You wrap your lips around Jeonghan can't really control himself, he just pushes his hips slightly so you can take more of him, and god when you moan around him almost makes Jeonghan forget every trace of decency and good bed etiquette. But damn you just look so beautiful sucking his dick, one of your hands digging on his thigh and the other one still wrapped around his dick that it is physically impossible to not thrust his hips up.

"God," Jeonghan says and he sounds so defeated against his own ears, "fuck, you are so pretty," he tries again, looking at you and when he sees you looking up at him, eyes almost twinkling with the praise. And his mind almost snaps - oh, you felt that didn't you? The joy of discovering something every time Jeonghan's hips snapped. He gets it now. It is almost like a power trip. "So pretty, taking my cock," Jeonghan tries again and he almost can feel your moan against his dick before he can hear it.

Every word that Jeonghan mutters makes you take more of his dick into your mouth until he is hitting the back of your throat, god and how he can take that? Your lips around him, your tongue dancing around his dick, the hollowing of yours checks each time you suck him. He is delirious and out of his mind. He tries his best, he really does, but his hips have a mind of its own, and before he knows it he is thrusting up again making you gag around him.

Then your mouth leaves his dick and Jeonghan feels like he is about to collapse, everything just feels so much - the sound, the spit trail, the way your breath is irregular, fanning against his skin - and yet the intensity of feeling nothing makes him mind spin a little bit.

"Come here," Jeonghan mutters trying to catch his own breath. You crawl up his body and Jeonghan can only focus on how messy you look, lips glossy and pink, and he can see the faintest trail of spit on the corner of your lips, he presses his lips there before he drags his fingers on your lips, "I let you suck my cock, can I fuck you now?"

"Please?" You ask back and Jeonghan can feel his dick twitching.

"How do you want me?" Jeonghan says tugging at the bottom of your shorts and he almost laughs when you just shove everything down at once - and he could laugh really, at your desperation but first, he is way worse than you, second you are so pretty that he can't wrap his mind around the fact that everything he conjured up in his mind every time he thought about you when he was lazily stroking himself didn't do you justice.

"You can stay like that," you say, and before Jeonghan can mutter an answer you are already placing your knees on the sides of his hips, his hands automatically going to your waist, his mouth pressing against your collar bones.

One of your hands goes to Jeonghan's jaw, just holding slightly, while the other one wraps around Jeonghan's dick again - and he swears he would say something but his mind goes completely blank when you press your pussy on his dick. Your hips moving to make his cock disappear between your folds, making it drag against your clit, Jeonghan can feel how wet you are and god everything just feels so hot - he feels tight all over, like his muscles are contracting, even the ones he didn't know he had.

"Are you getting off like this?" Jeonghan questions and his only answer is a whine and your hips buckling against him, "Come on baby," Jeonghan tries again, hand now holding your hip, guiding your movements, "I can-" Jeonghan breathes, he doesn't want to say it but, "If you keep going like that, pussy so pretty against my cock, I will cum before I-"

"God," you groan against his shoulder, "can you really?"

"Yeah," Jeonghan almost laugh, his hand grabbing your ass. Of course, he can, he could've come already, but he is dragging this off, he is holding himself back. "Babe," Jeonghan calls you, mouth hot against your neck, "I could've come on your mouth, I'm so hard it is almost painful,"

"Can we-" You almost hiccup, "can we like that" you mumble again, "you can fuck me later," you say and Jeonghan almost sees white.

God, he could cum like that this wasn't even a question, the question was could you? The fact that you were over the edge like him was enough to drive him crazy.

Every time you drag your hips against him Jeonghan's let out a little moan, and he feels so wrecked that he just plants his lips on your neck, sucking at your skin. Jeonghan does not know if it is a reaction or is just because he is losing his mind but he can tell you are getting faster, the rhythm getting a little off, the way you breathe against him, everything just seems too much, and Jeonghan can't take it anymore.

The world stops spinning for a bit - everything just stays still.

Jeonghan is out of it until the sound of your breath brings him back. You are almost pouting. "Did you?" Jeonghan asks, himself breathless too.

"No," You whine and you feel so frustrated that Jeonghan pities you a little bit.

"It's okay," he says - because it is he will take care of it, it's not a problem.

But when Jeonghan looks down he almost cums again. It is so messy. Why there is so much cum? God, he blinks at the view - trying to take everything but mainly you, hovering on his lap.

"Han," You call and Jeonghan is brought back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, and it is not like he is in control anymore, his mind Is just gone, he just drops his hand - scooping his own cum and placing it own your pussy. You moan so loudly and Jeonghan can feel your desperation, pressing his digits more firmly against your clit, "Like that?" He questions and you can only nod your head, words falling. Jeonghan holds you close to him, your chest against his, your hand still going between your legs, his other hand holding your waits, "Fuck how can you be so hot," he starts going making you feel a light-headed, "I will eat you later okay?" Jeonghan says, "Don't worry, I will eat you out and I will let you fuck me, you just need to tell me what you need."

"Just," You hiccup, "Just like that."

Jeonghan listens to you, even though the position is not the best to his wrist and he could do so much better - but you just keep babbling on and on about how you are almost there, how he just needs to stay like that, how you are feeling so good that he listens to you, how could he not when you are almost coming undone against his fingers?

And then you bring Jeonghan's face up to a kiss, his mind was too focused on his fingers disappearing against your folds to catch on earlier, but you don't seem to mind when you lick against his mouth and finally cum. Jeonghan holds you against his body for a few seconds when he finally hears you groan.

"God I am so sticky," you complain and he finally laughs.

Jeonghan though, keeps his promise and he eats you out after that, and he fucks you too, and then, he just forgets he has his own room.

It is weird how much you two fit each other. And how seamlessly you two turn into boyfriend-girlfriend situations, or legally, husband-wife, but who cares about silly papers really?

Everything is normal really - Jeonghan keeps saying he need just a better Ttoram version before you two start promoting on social media. You two keep sharing dinners, and Jeonghan even makes a point about how the two of you need to go on a date. You bribe him, telling him he needs to call Cheol before the wedding - and he just shrugs and picks his phone up calling his best friend, you almost scream, it was that easy?

You two share everything, you don't know why but Jeonghan just chooses your bed to sleep in, you question him saying you want to sleep on his bed too - it just smells like you, is nice - he says before making a weird noise after face planting one of your pillows. 

It comes to the point that you get weirded out when you wake up and he is not on your bed. When you pick yourself up and finally drag your body out of the bed - something weird happens, an unknown voice resonates in your house - okay not yours, Jeonghan's but...

You find Jeonghan in the kitchen, back facing you, sipping a cup of tea with another woman. A very gentle elderly lady, her hair is almost all white, and everything about her screams grandma. She sees you before you can say anything,

"Hi dear," even her voice is gentle.

"Han?" You ask when Jeonghan stares at you, eyes fondly taking up your sleepy self.

"Hey baby, come here," He says opening his arms, "come here Iris was talking about how she was visiting her third grandson can you believe that?"

You could, sure, everything about her screamed grandma in uppercase letters, but what was happening?

"Yes," the old lady answers, "where was I?" she claps before she picks back up again, "See like I was telling you, Aroon's mom is my youngest daughter, and her pregnancy hadn't been the easiest so that's why I couldn't bring the table back," she says and you neck almost snaps, looking at Jeonghan's, he is so proud of himself that you almost scream. "So I'm sorry dear, your husband told me how much it meant to you but I was out of town so-"

God, he looks so proud and so full of himself, he couldn't be happier right now. God, you are so deeply in love with him. You could marry him all over again.

[BONUS SCENE ONE - THE WEDDING}

“Are we doing this for real?” You ask and the world is kinda spinning a little bit, by your side, Jeonghan holds your hand. You both stare at this little chapel, the Elton John one because you said that you would prefer to be married with don't go breaking my heart, Tiny Dancer or even Berry and the Jets as a soundtrack than any of the Elvis’s songs and of course Jeonghan listened, he listened to everything you said. What a fucker, how could you not be in love with this guy? What? Wait-

“Of course, we are doing this, we made a bet,” Jeonghan says still staring at the chapel.

“Only because we made a bet,” you say looking at him. When Jeonghan turns his head to look at you something inside you sings a bit - like a doll with something in the inside broke and jiggling inside.

“Of course darling, only because we made a bet,” Jeonghan says, holding your hand firmly, he smiles at you, and out of nowhere he is running inside the building and you follow him around because why not?

It seemed like a fucking great idea, and you both did lose the bet, even though right now you can't really think straight - how does a bet work? Can both people lose a bet at the same time? You are not totally sure but you guess Jeonghan is right, it can happen.

[BONUS SCENE TWO - BIOGRAPHY]

When Jeonghan finally opens the hotel door you almost fall in the room, but before you fall face flat on the floor Jeonghan's hands save you from breaking your nose.

“Wow, what a gentlemanly husband I have,” You say, tapping his chest.

“Sure, sure, perfect husband material right here,” Jeonghan says pointing at himself the door still open.

“You are,” you gushed, hands on his shoulders searching for some kind of balance, using these high heels shows was so wrong, but you knew at least you would be pretty in your wedding pics, and in the end, that’s all that matters - the pictures for your own autobiography that you will make for your grandchildren. You always told Jeonghan that you would make one for him too, with every single thing he gave you as a safe keep and the collection of pictures you have of him in different times of his life. You have pictures of Jeonghan with his long hair, with his short hair, the time he died it was almost white because he thought it would be so so cool and ended up hating how it fucked up his scalp. You had the material, you had the story, and you could do his biography, the funny thing now it is that his grandchildren could be yours too.

“What are you laughing at?” Jeonghan says, kneeling at your feet and taking your shoes off, wow, a life-saver.

“I just thought about grandchildren,” you squealed in a high-pitched voice that you didn’t know you had until Jeonghan’s hand found your hips.

“Grandchildren?”He asks you softly.

“The biographies,” you say and Jeonghan nods, “I was thinking about how I always pictured us together when we were gray and old in a nursing home together all that jazz, but know that I thought about it, your family will be my family so the grandchild will be the same kids, I won’t do your biography for your grandchildren I will do your biography for my grandchildren as well that changes a lot of things,”

“Like what?” He asks amused

“I don’t know if I want to tell them about the time you were sure to have gonorrhea or something like that”

“I do think we can let this story die with us,”

“wait, now that I am thinking about it like we only have one family," You say, a pouting on your lips, and Jeonghan almost melts, "that means only one visit in the nursing home because like when our family as separate entities we would have two families so two visit yours and mine now that I think about it I think we should divorce

“We are not divorcing," Jeonghan says.

“We can annul It,” you try again.

“We won't do it,” Jeonghan says, shaking his head like you are talking nonsense.

“But two visits are better than one,” You say showing him your fingers and trying to make him understand that two are indeed better than one, boys like girls even sang about this, was Jeonghan dumb?

“I won't have a family if it isn't your family,” Jeonghan says plopping down on the bed.

“Of course you can have a family,” you are sure of it Jeonghan is amazing there is nothing stopping him.

“But I don't want to,” Jeonghan whines looking at you and you get it, you finally get it.

“Damn boy you are crazy about me,” you say laughing, laying on his side.

“Now you are catching up,” Jeonghan says while his arms close around you.

“Still think two is a bigger number”

[BONUS SCENE - SHOULD WE?]

Jeonghan, your husband of three years, is eating on the kitchen counter and you can almost hear the gears in his brain turning and twisting. Sometimes, you think that maybe, Jeonghan is like a toy that he built the week prior, if you pick him up and shake him around you can hear loose parts of him rattling inside of himself.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask while opening the fridge.

“Should we go to Vegas again?” He asks taking a bit of his breakfast.

“Vegas?” you say - your head peaking and your body stretched so you can face him while the fridge door is open. 

“I was thinking we should renew our vows,” he says like he is thinking about buying lunch because he cannot bring himself to cook, “you know, I want you to actually remember our wedding.”

#Yoon Jeonghan fic #Yoon Jeonghan fanfic #Yoon Jeonghan imagines #Yoon Jeonghan smut #Jeonghan fic #Jeonghan fanfic #Jeonghan imagines #Jeonghan smut #Seventeen fanfic #Seventeen fic #Seventeen imagines #Seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt fanfic #svt smut #svt imagines #t: writting #t: yoon jeonghan

[sluttywoozi]

Interlude No. 9 | yjh x reader

Interlude No. 9: Jeonghan broke up with you three months ago, so why is he at your door now?

Rating: sfw (minors still shouldn’t be here) | WC: ~3.3k

Pairing: yjh x reader | Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, a lil romance

Warnings: alcohol mention, swearing, breaking up and making up

Reader Notes: drinks wine, owns a blow dryer

You’re halfway into your second glass of wine and fully done with your skincare when a knock sounds on your apartment door. 

It sounds familiar for some reason, and though you normally would never entertain the thought of accepting an unexpected caller after 9 PM, your gut is telling you to answer. So onto the side table your glass goes before you stand on tired legs and slowly make your way to the hall. You should grab the bat but that gut feeling is still there, the one that says you have nothing to worry about, so you pass the closet you keep it in and continue on to the door. 

Closing one eye, you sweep aside the cover and look through the peephole, gasping at what, or rather, who, you find. 

Yoon Jeonghan. 

The man you dated for two years, the man who broke up with you three months ago without an explanation. 

The man you still love. 

You can’t see much, but you can see that he looks awful. His hair is long and sloppily tied back, his glasses are low on his nose, and his eyes are red, glassy. He gnaws at his lip as he waits, his posture growing worse with every minute that ticks by until he’s all but wilted onto the floor. 

You don’t know what to do. 

You blocked his contact after he left you, swore you wouldn’t speak to him again no matter how many friends you have in common, but here he is at your door, looking, for all intents and purposes, dead inside. 

You can’t see him anymore but he didn’t walk away, which means he must have finally sat down in the hall. You’re just glad he’s not making noise, your neighbors have always been nosy and you hate the idea of them knowing about this. 

He doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere anytime soon, so all you can do is unlock your three locks and open the door a crack, just enough to spot him. 

His gaze shoots up immediately and he rushes to stand, his limbs clumsy as he picks himself up off the floor. 

“Hi,” he breathes, brushing his clothes off and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

You ignore the way your stomach drops at his voice, ignore the way it feels like a balm to your frayed nerves, and ask quietly, “What are you doing here?” 

He glances away and pushes up his glasses, swiping a hand over his eyes and down his face before saying, “I wanted to talk to you, about us.” 

You bristle, unhealed hurt rising up within you at his words. 

“Now you want to talk? You didn’t seem to have anything to say three months ago when you left,” you remind him harshly, pretending your heart doesn’t ache at the way he flinches and tries to hide it.

“I- I fucked up, I fucked everything up, I know that. But I’ve been trying to talk to you this whole time, ever since I walked out. Please, just listen to me this once, and I promise, if you never want to hear from me again, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sounds distraught, as close to tears as you’ve ever heard him, and you know you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you do it anyway. 

You open the door and step to the side, ignoring his deep sigh of relief and pushing down the shock when you smell the cologne you bought him last year as he walks past you. 

You didn’t live together but he knows where to go, making his way to your living room and settling into his corner of the couch. Maybe you should offer him something to drink, but you don’t feel like playing host right now, not when the wound you thought had scarred over has started bleeding again. 

Bypassing your spot on the sofa, you sink into the chair farthest away from him, tugging a blanket over your lap as if it could protect you somehow. 

He stares at you, his gaze a deep pool of sorrow and guilt and his fingers fidgeting in his lap. 

“Well?” You prompt him when he doesn’t speak, almost wishing you had the forethought to grab your glass of wine. You could use it at a time like this. 

“I- I guess I should start off by saying I love you and I’m in love with you and I never stopped being in love with you,” he says it like it’s a vow, like he fears you won’t believe him. 

You say nothing, swallowing around the pit of anguish in your throat. 

“When I left, it was because of me, not because of anything you did. You’re perfect, you always have been. I just- I couldn’t give you what you deserved. I saw how happy you were when Joshua proposed to his partner, and we both knew I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to get married, but I knew that you were sure.”

“I wanted you to be free to find someone who could give you that, and I thought breaking up with you was the right thing to do, but as soon as I left, I knew it was the absolute dumbest and most cowardly thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“I shouldn’t have made that decision for you, I should have told you how I was feeling and let you make the choice yourself, even if the outcome would have been the same.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jeonghan chokes out, his face pinched and his eyes full of saltwater. 

Tears are threatening to stream down your face, your heart squeezing in your chest like someone is wringing it out. It’s time for you to respond to him, but you don’t know what to say. 

You’ve missed him more than you ever thought possible, and a part of you is comforted by the fact that he never stopped loving you. But another part of you is broken, your trust in him fractured and your faith in him lost. 

You feel like he’s misunderstood you on a fundamental level, like the years you spent together were for nothing because he obviously doesn’t know you as well as you thought he did. You feel like your autonomy has been stripped away, like he thinks you’re a child who can’t be trusted to form your own opinions. 

Most of all, you feel robbed, of the last three months, of the lifetime you would have spent with him, married or unmarried. 

“Why are you telling me this now?” You whisper, needing to know his angle. Is he just looking to absolve himself of guilt? You don’t know if you can do that for him. 

“Because I’m dying without you,” he nearly sobs out. “I’ve wanted to come back since I left but my texts and calls wouldn’t go through, and I didn’t want to show up at your job like a creep, and all of our friends hate me except for Seungcheol so there was nobody to carry a message for me. It’s all my own fault, and I know that, I just- I’m selfish, I can’t let you go without knowing you want me to.” 

“Jeonghan, I never wanted you to let me go. I never wanted to be free. I only wanted you,” your voice breaks on the last word, and you have to look away as you fight the urge to openly weep. 

“Past tense?” He sounds defeated, empty. “You don’t…” 

“Yoon Jeonghan, you’re a fucking idiot if you think I don’t love you anymore,” you glare, feeling like you could curse him, hex him and his whole bloodline for his stupidity. “But that doesn’t mean we can pick up where we left off. You broke us, you broke me, and I need time before I can let you in like that again.”

Finally, there’s life in his eyes again, gratitude and love shining on his face, like the fact that you’re even considering it is enough for him. 

“I’ll be here, I’ll wait forever if I have to. And I’m not saying this because I think it’ll change anything, but I do want to marry you, only you, so I mean it when I say forever,” he sends you a watery beam, his face shiny with tears. 

You can’t stop the corners of your mouth from quirking up in a smile, even if you do want to prod further into how he’s suddenly made up his mind. You fear you don’t have the energy for it tonight, not after all of this. 

You also fear you don’t have the heart to send him home alone. He looks a bit better but his cheeks are gaunt, his hair is greasy, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t been doing well, and you want to feel vindicated but instead you just feel worried. 

“You can sleep here tonight, on the couch. Let me get you some blankets and pillows,” you whisper, rising to your feet and disappearing into your bedroom before he can protest out of some misguided feeling of imposition. 

You gather up his favorite blanket, the one that’s been folded on the chair in the corner of your room since he broke up with you, and his preferred pillow. It still smells like him even though you’ve changed the case countless times, and you have to admit that you’ve been thankful for it. 

You also get some pajamas he left, having neglected to clear out his drawer because you couldn’t bear to open it. 

He’s right where you left him when you return, head tilted back as he dozes, and you set the bedding at the end of the couch before tentatively resting a hand on his shoulder to wake him. 

He blinks up at you and smiles his sweetest smile, and you feel your heart start to stitch itself back together. In a whisper, you say, “Jeonghan, why don’t you take a shower while I get the couch ready?” 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do all this,” he mumbles, his eyes avoiding yours as he bites at his lip anxiously. 

“I know I don’t. Let me do it anyway,” you tell him, squeezing his shoulder and reaching down for his hand to pull him up and to the bathroom. 

He follows you obediently, taking the pajamas when you hand them over and grinning shyly at you one last time as the bathroom door closes between you. 

You don't have a lot of time to think as you set up the couch, knowing he takes around ten minutes to shower. You’ll probably offer to blow dry his hair when he gets out, he hates sleeping with it wet, he always thinks it’ll give him a cold. Even after three months without him, caring for him is still as easy as breathing. 

Now that you have some space, you’re not sure how much time you really need to let him back in. 

Of course, you’re still wounded and bitter that he left you in the first place, but you can tell he wasn’t lying, that he really thought he was doing the right thing. You think he knows now that he shouldn’t ever do something like that again, and while your trust in him is cracked, it’s not as broken as you worried it was. 

Setting everything he should and shouldn’t have done aside, you have to admit that you miss him, desperately, and that you want to be his just as much as you want him to be yours. 

But with all of your feelings so fresh, you think you should sleep on it at least one night, just to be sure you have forgiven him, that you can take him back. 

You should have a few minutes left before he’s done, so you sneak back into your room and grab your blow dryer and hair brush from your vanity, setting up shop on the chair closest to an outlet. 

Soon enough, he wanders out in his baggy shirt and pajama pants, squeezing his dripping hair with a towel and grinning when he sees you. 

“Salon time?” He asks with excitement, and you smile indulgently, waving the hair dryer at him and waiting for him to sit cross legged in front of you, his back to your knees and his head at the perfect height for you to take care of his hair. 

It’s soothing to you, carrying out this routine and having this kind of intimacy with him after all these weeks apart. 

You dry and dry until his silky locks slip through your fingers, and when you finally shut the blow dryer off, the silence in the room is deafening. Jeonghan is leaning back against your legs, his head dipped low and his neck bent at an odd angle, and you realize he’s fallen asleep. 

It must have been soothing to him too, you think, gently scratching your nails over his scalp before whispering his name. 

He stirs, looking around in confusion and tilting his head all the way back to look at you upside down, a sleepy smile stretching his lips. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice hushed and relaxed. 

You fight the urge to lean down and press a kiss to his lips like you used to, smoothing your finger over his eyebrow instead and replying, “You’re welcome.”

He pushes up to his feet, stretching his hands overhead and yawning loudly, before turning and reaching for you only to stop short. 

“Goodnight,” he says, holding his hands behind his back like he’ll touch you if he doesn’t. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper, trying to ignore how weird it feels not to follow it with an I love you. 

You turn and retreat to your room before the words can escape without your permission, closing the door behind you with a soft click. 

You’re already all washed up for the night so you just slide into your side of the bed, pulling the duvet tight around you to mimic the feeling of Jeonghan’s arms. 

It takes you ages to fall asleep with the knowledge that he’s just a few yards away, that you could have him in this bed if only you would ask. 

It’s dark when you wake, your heart still racing with the nightmare that roused you though you can’t remember it. You lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling in an attempt to calm yourself, your eyes locking onto the blur of the fan, just barely visible with the moonlight seeping in through the curtains. 

You hardly ever got nightmares when Jeonghan slept over, but you’ve had innumerable sleepless nights over the past three months, and you were hoping tonight wouldn’t be one of them with him in your apartment. 

Maybe you should check and make sure he’s still here. He could have left, could have changed his mind, could have decided he was right to end it with you and gone home to his own apartment, and you wouldn’t even know until morning.

That anxiety is enough to make you roll out of bed and pad over to the door, your steps quiet and your breath caught in your chest. 

You turn the knob as smoothly as you can, pushing the door open and wincing when it creaks. But when you look over to check if you woke Jeonghan, he’s already sitting up, the lamp on the side table on and a book from your shelf in his hands. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks with concern, setting the book face down on the table and giving you his full attention. 

“I just wanted to… check on you,” you give him a half truth, forgetting that he always could see right through you. 

“You were scared I went home, weren't you?” He murmurs, a tinge of sadness to his voice and a remorseful frown on his face. 

“Maybe,” you fiddle with the hem of your t-shirt, avoiding his eyes. “I just had a nightmare so…”

“Was it that I left again?” He asks, pulling his legs up and making room on the couch for you before patting the cushion in front of him. You take a few steps forward and he lifts the blanket up, covering your exposed legs with it when you settle onto the sofa. 

“No, I don’t remember what happened. I just didn’t get them with you around so I thought you might not be around.”

You have to fight the urge not to crawl into his lap and curl up against him, feeling especially starved for affection after waking so abruptly. You wonder if he feels as far from you as you do from him, stuck in this limbo of being together but not together. 

You think he does when you notice the longing in his soft eyes, see the way his brows are gently furrowed and his lip is bitten between his teeth. 

“How can I help?” He wonders quietly, and you only give yourself a few seconds to think it over. 

Yes, he broke up with you for a reason that he should have talked with you about instead. Yes, you’ve missed him the past three months like you never knew you could. Yes, it’s probably too soon to let him back in like this. 

But you find you don’t care about any of that. 

You just want him close, need to know he’s here and he’s staying and he’s yours. 

So you push aside your bruised feelings and whisper in a fragile voice, “Come to bed with me?” 

He looks unsure but rises when you do, his face smoothing out as he offers you his hand and lets you tug him to your bedroom. He hovers when he crosses the threshold and it occurs to you that you might have to guide him. He was so respectful of your boundaries in the beginning of the relationship that you called almost all of the shots, and you wonder if your two years of progress have been undone over the past three months apart. 

But maybe this is a good thing, you think as you lead him over to his side of the bed and tuck him in. You’re the one who told him you can’t pick up where you left off, and you like that he’s reset a bit, that he wants to treat this like a fresh start, because it is one.  

Before, you would just crawl over him onto your side, but now you walk around the bed, climbing in and tugging the blanket over your body. You pull it up to your chin, still feeling a bit chilled, and it takes you less than sixty seconds to decide cuddling is allowed even if you’re beginning anew. 

So you roll onto your side to face him, your eyes just barely able to make him out in the dark of your bedroom. He turns his head to look at you, his hands folded together on his stomach before he reaches one out across the bed. That’s the only signal you need to close the distance and tuck yourself up under his arm, your cheek resting in the hollow of his shoulder and your hand finding his. 

He tilts his head up, pressing his lips to your forehead and sneaking a whiff of your hair as he tangles his fingers with yours. You take in a deep breath, what feels like your first since he ended things, and let your eyelids flutter shut, trusting that he’ll be here when you wake. 

“I love you,” he whispers, so low you almost don’t hear him.

“I love you, too,” you mumble back. “But if you pull that shit again, it’ll be the last thing you ever do, and I mean that.”

“Please murder me if I do. Obviously I’ve gone fucking crazy if I fuck this up again.”

You fall asleep with a smile on your face. 

AN: yayyy i wrote something!! a randomized wheel told me to write jeonghan so i did and it turned into this and then the wheel told me to make it smutty and i was like no that is not correct! so sorry lovelies but no smut today!! it just didn't feel right after them being apart for so long and jeonghan only just starting to make it up to reader and earn her back (even if she is making it easy for him)

thank u for reading, please lmk what you think!!

#k vanity #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fanfic #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #✨emily writes✨

[seungcheorry]

morning after with svt.

COLLABORATION WITH @kozukensgf 🎀

suggested by anon, i wrote these drabbles and the amazing hazel wrote the texts. read these first, and then the texts. (:

texts with svt (morning after ver) can be found here.

seungcheol is too soft for his own good. whether he has feelings for you or not, he's the type to stay around for a bit and wait until you wake up so he can say goodbye properly. will probably decline your offer of breakfast though (politely, of course).

jeonghan likes to watch you sleep, so of course he stays around too. if he's not that busy, he will also wait until you're awake to leave - but differently from cheol, he will accept your offer to eat first. now, if he has schedules that day, he'll be out the door as soon as you open your eyes.

joshua is a cutie, so he stays too. he actually wakes up after you, chasing after the sounds you're making around the house. he will be the one to offer to make breakfast or take you out to eat. it doesn't matter if he has feelings for you or not, he considers you a friend? so of course he'll treat you right (the sex is just a plus).

junhui feels kinda awkward once he wakes up. he knows he doesn't like you enough to have romantic feelings for you, so the intimacy of seeing you sleep or taking a shower with you is too overwhelming. he leaves before you wake up, but makes sure to leave a little something for you before he does.

hoshi is a heavy sleeper after sex, so chances are you'll wake up first. he's more than happy to see you still beside him scrolling through your phone as soon as he wakes up. he's the type to run his mouth about anything and everything, bonding with you beyond your steamy times. he's such a darling, he just wants you to be comfortable around him.

wonwoo is quiet, the morning after. he isn't sure if he likes you like that, but he does like your company, your body, the way you make him feel... so it always hits him, after he has sex with you, that he should figure his feelings out. he stays with you for breakfast too, grateful for the way mornings are usually quiet around you. he leaves with a heavy heart before lunch though, but knowing damn well he'll come back to your bed soon.

there's no morning after with woozi, as he leaves in the middle of the night, both because he can't sleep and he doesn't know how to deal with the "aftwards", especially if he doesn't love you. he's not an asshole though, so he texts you an apology when he knows you're awake and tells you that it was fun seeing you again, and that you should definitely go visit him on his studio sometime.

dokeyom is similar to hoshi, i think. he just wants you to be comfortable around him, so he's just his sunshine form when he's around you the morning after. he also stays, for as long as he can/you will have him, but always tell you "hey, i can go whenever you want" - no, dokyeom, you can't. you want to stay. you know you do.

mingyu is the type to wake up earlier than you, take a shower (because of course he already feels at home with you), and then proceed to make you something to eat. he shyly smiles when you come find him in your kitchen. even though the relationship he has with you is mainly sexual, his mom didn't raise a player - so he'll pay you back for having him on your bed somehow.

minghao stays with you. there's this spoken thing between the two of you, where you're not truly fwb but also you're not mere acquaintances - so he's comfortable enough to sleep next to you, but draws the line when it comes to breakfast together. he's out the door as soon as he has taken a shower (alone, of course).

seungkwan leaves as soon as he wakes up, not because he wants to, but because he's most likely late for something. he definitely texts you later, thanking you for the night and promising to see you soon. might also send something to your house, like your favorite dessert or something, since he couldn't stay as he usually does.

vernon doesn't stay. if he doesn't have feelings for you he's more than grateful that you let him have his way with you and always make sure to not be a player, and that includes leaving (it's not right after though, he takes his time to calm down and if you are already asleep by the time he decides to leave, he wakes you up. he will never leave without telling you so).

dino stays because he wants to be with you. i can't see this sweet boy not falling in love or getting obsessed with you, so deal with it. will crack jokes just to see you smile in the morning, and already knows how you like your coffee/tea. his smile falters when you tell him you have plans for the day, a polite way to tell him he can't stay for too long.

#seventeen headcanons #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt headcanons #svt reactions #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt x you #choi seungcheol imagines #yoon jeonghan imagines #joshua hong imagines #wen junhui imagines #hoshi imagines #woozi imagines #wonwoo imagines #dk imagines #kim mingyu imagines #xu minghao imagines #boo seungkwan imagines #vernon imagines #dino imagines #seventeen #svt

[amourcheol]

paris

❝You and Jeonghan, jazz-filled corners, hidden history, and the city of love.❞

old hollywood! au | exes to lovers! au | angst, fluff, smut | 50k words

s u m m a r y : disgraced by hollywood for the last time, you, a once superstar-turned-alcoholic, escape to the city of love to seek sanctuary from the ruthless tabloids. your sanctuary comes in the form of film noir superstar yoon jeonghan, the enigmatic man who taught you the art of acting, lust and love before your fame. when he asks to meet you once, just like old times, you cannot refuse. what is meant to be a simple date turns into a path of passion, pain and everything that comes with fooling around with your ex in the jazz-filled corners of paris. 

c o n t e n t s : actor! mc, actor! jeonghan, mc is bitter and makes bad decisions, agent! seungkwan who is tired of fixing them, jeonghan is the suavest, sultriest mf, mentions of parisian landmarks in this fic during the golden hollywood era, also a bit of french peppered throughout, greek mythology art references, tons of fluff which is also layered with angst, quite hurt-comfort mature warnings -> alcohol consumption and abuse, smoking, this is basically sexual tension with plot, making out, oral sex (f. receiving) unprotected sex (refer point to bad decisions), multiple orgasms, jeonghan worships mc fr, praises galore, slightly angsty love-making, basically this is going to be an emotional rollercoaster 

p l a y l i s t : here!

t a g l i s t : at the bottom of the fic

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : she is here...finally...longer author’s note at the bottom of the fic but RIP to y’alls tumblr on mobile </3 thank you for reading and thank you ysl jeonghan you will always be the most iconic mf on the planet !! anyways enjoy <33

THE LOS ANGELES MIRROR, 28TH SEPTEMBER, 1954

_____ SEEN FOR THE FIRST TIME AFTER FOX SCANDAL AT LAX!

Scandalised Princess of Hollywood was finally spotted after a week, hurrying into Los Angeles International Airport in the early hours of the morning!

The last time we reported on her was to announce Fox Productions terminating her contract after having a vicious altercation with her movie director and producer. As if showing up on set drunk and high out of your mind is not enough, but lashing your tongue out at the big boys? Our Princess has exceeded too many limits within her Kingdom, and is now running away like a traitor! 

We bring exclusive photos of her interacting with our reporters just before airport security stopped us—though, judging by the expression on her face, and the message on her hand, she may not be too pleased to see us…

We wonder, readers, where she plans to run away. Some sources say that she may look for sanctuary in New York, but there is a likelihood that she may be crossing the Atlantic! Our colleagues in London and Paris anticipate her arrival, but who knows? Maybe our disgraced actress has places even the most shrewd of our reporters cannot find.

Worry not, though, readers! We will bring more news should she be brave enough to show herself in public again!

In the meantime, read on to see which famous superstar has just landed in Paris for his world-class premier…!

YOU ALWAYS WONDERED WHETHER ONE COULD SLEEP FOREVER.

Not die—death was too serious. Death meant going somewhere else, confronting your entire life within seconds. Death was excruciating, death was isolation, death was the end.

But sleep? Sleep could be forever, but it was temporary. You knew that if you slept, you would always wake up. No matter what happened to you the night before, your eyes would open to the morning light breaking through your curtained-windows. 

This time, you wished you did not see such light.

The morning sunshine glared through the heavy lids of your eyes, using all its strength to try and snap open your eyes. You remained stubborn, turning away from the window. Your fingertips lazily held a curved glass, not quite sure what it contained.

Red wine. From last night.

Red wine, which had no doubt stained your bedsheets. 

You let out a low, sluggish curse, holding onto your dirty champagne glass. Yes, sleep could be forever, and it was precisely that fact which made you wish you were slumbering once more.

However, exterior forces always found a way to sneak past your already weak defences. 

Exterior forces like the beginning of the new day, refusing to let you stay in the refuge of the night. Exterior factors like the damning thoughts of your mind, reminding you of how disastrously you could have messed up the night before.

Exterior forces like a jug-full of ice cold water thrown at your face. 

The moment the water hit your face you let out a shocked screech, flinching all over as you snapped open your eyes. A high-pitched fuck! flew from your mouth as you sat up, creasing at the soreness of your muscles, still reeling from the few-hours sleep you managed to salvage. The moment you gained consciousness the worst possible headache tormented you, and you had to hold your head in your hands, groaning at the cold tingling your skin. Of course, your hangover would come crashing now, numbing your brain.

“Be thankful I did not fill up the entire jug,” was the icy snarl you were greeted with.

You groaned at the voice, slowly turning your head to face the man who was hell-bent on murdering you. “One day, Seungkwan,” you rasped out, coughing immediately afterwards, “Someone is going to punch you in the face, and I will watch and laugh at you.” 

He towered over your crumbling figure as he stood at the edge of your bed. “Why stop at punching me? I wish someone would put a gun to my head and blast my brains out!” He brought his hands to his hips, holding a folded newspaper. “At least then I won’t have to witness your daily screw-ups!”

“What are you talking about?” you mumbled, blinking back to clear your hazy vision. When you craned your head back, your agent’s glare had you recoiling. “God, don’t do that to your face…not a good look on you.”

The glare soured even more. “Be angry? Go to Hell, ______! I have every right to be angry at you!” 

“What have I done this time?”

“Only gone and left this goddamn room, drunk enough to be jailed for indecency!” He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if reliving a rather painful memory. “One of the receptionists off duty brought you back here and reported it to me! 

“Oh…I see.”

“That is it? Just an I see? My God, I should be paid more for this!” He pointed to the entrance. “You know the receptionist was about to report you for indecent behaviour! I had to shut her up with a couple hundred dollars! Do you know how much that is in francs?” 

You were about to guess a wildly wrong answer. 

“That was a rhetorical question!” He crowed. “I doubt you would have known the answer anyway, seeing as you enjoy spending these francs more than taking them into account!”

“Whatever,” you muttered, raising your knees so you could hug your legs. “What is done is done.”

“Don’t whatever me,” he snapped, slapping the newspaper he held down on the bedside table. “You do nothing but get drunk—” A pointed finger towards the empty glass— “Waste yourself away in your room, and when you somehow have the will to try and do your job, you always do something to screw it up! You need to just—ugh!” He stopped himself, looking away as he swept a hand through his hair, blazer rising. 

You knew he wanted to go on—you knew he was stopping himself, if only to save the scraps of dignity that still resided within you. You looked at the empty bottles scattered in your room, along with the tabloids, pages open to the columns which wrote about you from weeks ago.

“Did you get an answer for the chemistry read?” 

Seungkwan seemed to have an infinite amount of glowers in his arsenal. “Do not get me started on your fucking chemistry read.”

Your confusion had him breathing through his nose. “They said to me, and I quote, ‘Don’t ever let her inside the audition house again’.”

You had the nerve to chuckle. 

“Laugh at your failure one more time, and I’ll throw water at you again.”

That killed off any amusement.

Your dear agent, and apparent dearer friend sighed. “Get your act together, _____,” he said, crossing your arms as he turned on his heel, navigating through the rubbish you had compiled in your room. “Goodness sake, _____, this is a five star hotel! Could you treat it as such?! If those damned reporters saw the state of your room…” he shuddered. “The poor housekeeping staff…”

“Don’t you start judging me,” you sneered. “I have enough of it from the press.”

Seungkwan pursed his lips. “You are fortunate that the press have not seen you once here. God forbid some late-night reporter saw you stumbling in the Ritz halls instead…they would have eaten you alive.”

You furrowed your brows. 

The two of you knew that the media would have released something horrendous about you, regardless of whether you were drunk and disorderly, or sober and charismatic. You were not fortunate to have avoided them—you were skillful. You would have died than catch yourself in front of the cameras in this city.

Even if you nearly caused a blunder yesterday.

“Whatever,” Seungkwan began, glancing at his watch.

“Oh, so you can say ‘whatever’ to me, but I am not allowed?”

A scathing look. 

“I can, dear _____, because I do not have consequences to bear, since I do not commit such stupid actions. You are wasting away in a five-star hotel you cannot afford, you are butchering auditions you need to resume your career, and you are drinking and rotting in your room when you should be finding a way to climb out of this scandal!” 

When he saw your stunned expression, he let out a harsh breath. “Or maybe you can throw me a goddamn bone, and actually try to help yourself! God knows I am trying to get you out of the mess you have created.” 

Well—suppose he could not stop himself.

The silence that followed his declarations had you shifting uncomfortably on your bed. When you continued to avert his gaze, he shook his head, realising that you will not do a thing about your problems. 

You hated when he did that—as if you were solely responsible for your downfall.

“Right.” He dusted at his blazer, looking to the door. “I have a few calls to make before I go to the Louvre this evening.”

That had your brow raising. “The Louvre? That is a bit random, no?”

“Well, if you have dragged me to this god-awful city, then I suppose I better explore it.” When you opened your mouth, he cut you off, “And no, you cannot come with me.” He raised his finger to quieten you once again. “No, no! I refuse to have a dozen reporters following after me every time I look at an old stone.”

You gaped at him in disbelief. “So you’re just…leaving me here?!”

His saccharine smile hit a nerve. “You and I both know I am not leaving you here…you seem to stay here just fine on your own!”

You scowled. “I hope the press catches you in the Louvre.”

“I will be sure to send them your way, then!”

He earned a harsh groan from you, gesturing towards the entrance. “Get out, Seungkwan!” 

“With pleasure,” he simpered, making his way to the door. “Do not forget the readings for next week!” 

“Whatever!”

His eyes never left yours, souring with your reply as he twisted the doorknob, opening the entrance. “Whatever to you too!” 

And he was out of the door before you could curse him outright. 

When you were sure he would not bother you again, you quickly grabbed the half-empty bottle of wine, unscrewing the cap. 

With no regrets you indulged in the alcohol, hoping it would soothe your hangover even if you knew acutely well that it never did.

So what if Seungkwan did not wish to enjoy the museum with you? To Hell with him—you can admire the art quite perfectly by yourself. 

But to go outside…

That was the one great difficulty.

You sneaked a glance at the window, grimacing at the sun brightly shining on its Parisian subjects. 

Your agent was right—you were fortunate to avoid the press this far.

The last time they caught you was in LA, and once again, there was something positive at play when they could not figure out the destination of your flight. It had been more than a couple of weeks staying in the Ritz, and still, you had managed to evade them at every corner in the central parts of the city. Though you would never admit this to him, staying at the five-star hotel was not the smartest decision, with its luxury and grandeur and horrendous fees, but you could not help yourself—you needed to feel like a famous actress.

You needed to feel like a star once more.

Of course, those days were becoming more like distant memories. 

Seething, you finished your bottle, slapping it atop the bedside table.

Heaving from your bed, you trudged to your window, swiping the curtains to a close. 

Because of your actions, you could not go outside in the daytime. Yes, you may be safe now, but that wish to roam freely under the sun without the prying eyes of others—it was impossible. If the journalists ever caught you in Paris, you knew that you would not be able to garner the raging, resentful attitude you had back home. This time, you would crumble under the camera flashes, the constant shouting, and be forever the actress that was blacklisted by one of the biggest production companies in Hollywood.

You could have forgiven the press for ruining Los Angeles for you.

You could never excuse them for trying to ruin Paris.

So, with your eyes heavy-lidded and your heart incredibly bitter, you thundered to a certain spot under your bed, bringing out another bottle of wine. 

With your prospects at an all-time low, you unscrewed the cap and continued your journey to intoxication.

THE LOUVRE WAS ALWAYS MORE BEAUTIFUL IN THE NIGHT.

You had never noticed it before, but with half the lights dimmed, no sneaking eyes to prey on your every move—the vast museum had become a safe-haven to your sluggish movements.

Perhaps the guards should have noticed a drunk, failing actress and stopped her in her routes, but none batted an eye as you sauntered in from one of the less popular entrances. Of course, you feigned your best nonchalant, sober appearance, and it seemed to have worked a charm. 

At least your acting talents had not vanished with your fame.

You were hit with the vast collections at the very beginning, artworks and objects from all corners of the world. With every step there was another artifact—broken stone aged from the 2nd century BC, a medieval portrait of some foreign king, carpets embroidered in the age of the Ottomans. 

You did not care for these specific wonders.

No, you walked on, a slight determination in your step as you walked past the earlier Egyptian wonders, the Greek and Roman antiquities as you turned a right, finding yourself in the more modern sections. Even so, paintings had never fascinated you as much as other mediums. Paintings, you found, could be celebrated regardless of the amount of work one applied onto the image. Whether it was Renaissance masterwork, or simple rebellious lines of paint over an empty canvas, both could be deemed masterpieces.

What was undisputed, though, was the sheer talent of the sculptors.

Your eyes gazed over the vast, open room. 

Ah!

The marble columns were in their dozens, etched to the sides of the hall as they arched over onto the ceiling. Underneath them scattered an abundance of white sculptures—scenes from mythology, depictions of Roman generals or early modern emperors were settled together, as if they were all linked by the marble from which they were birthed. 

You could not help taking the hasty steps forward, admiring the citizens of marble. You admitted that you did not like art much, but these people before you were something else entirely. They were full of life, given the breath of the human soul, yet were completely lifeless. They looked exactly like you, had limbs like yours, exposed happiness, grief, anger identical to you, but they were frozen, as if paused in their ministrations.

They were the only bodies that could not judge you. 

Closing up on a closer sculpture, admiring the physique of the Greek god, your sight further wandered, trying to find a particular piece that you used to admire many years ago. You distinctly remembered the piece depicting gods too, male and female—you could not recall their names, but the first time you had witnessed such a work, you had been completely shaken. You bit your lip, trying to recollect its location.

You knew it had to be in this room. 

The specific sculpture, which you had seen in the very height of your fame—the very centre of your happiness. 

Steps quickening a little, you focused on each carved figure—no, no, no, you repeated in your mind, the memories stagnant. However, you were certain that the piece had been here the last time you had entered the museum.

The man who was with you that time made sure you witnessed such a sculpture. 

A smile as ghost-like as the memory etched onto your lips. 

Your gaze scoured the room, catching the far-right corner, right next to the hall entrance.

There. 

The sculpture was supposed to be there.

But the work of art was not present.

No—instead of two lifeless figures, there was a living being standing in its place.

You blinked.

The figure’s back was to you—clad in black, your stare struggling to distinguish the details. Fully silhouetted from you, you decided to take a step forward, your heeled-boots making much too loud a noise.

The phantom turned around.

You felt the world sway beneath you.

That was a face you could recognise in any corner of the world—forget the old walls of this gallery. 

It was the man of your memories.

Memories of a long time ago, too long ago, when you were young and wild and free and alive. Your hallucinations had outdone themselves this time, with the way they portrayed the figure of your past. He looked just as he had done the last time you had stepped in this gallery—half of his midnight hair swept under a beret of the same colour, burgundy trench-coat half buttoned, tied at the front. His face was blurry still, but you could not mistake his dark eyes. 

Dark, intense, mystical eyes that were rooted to you.

Perhaps this was delirium—consequences of the alcohol, repercussions of dreaming up times of your past which did not bring great despair. This man before you, not ten feet from you, was not real. He was simply a figment of your imagination, because a man like that did not exist in the spheres of your existence.

Not anymore. 

Shaking your head, you took a step forward.

The apparition took a step backward.

Ah. You smiled. Staying away from you. As ghosts always do.

With great hesitancy, you continued, walking ever so slowly towards the vision.

The vision, in turn, took the exact amount of steps opposite from you. 

Continuing this strange game, you lead the apparition back into the maze of sculptures. So bizarre, the way he perfectly circled each piece, as if he was aware of every marble-figure that rested in the room. One step forward, one step back—one heel of yours that progressed, one boot of his that receded. 

The longer this went on, the quicker your pace became, the quicker he matched it. It almost became a fool’s errand, swirling around the marble spectators as they watched your fruitless flight with melancholy stares. You scowled as you saw the only moving eyes dancing underneath the limited moonlight.

Your visions of madness were beginning to aggravate you.

Soon, you were back in the place that the fated sculpture was supposed to be, the exit behind you. The vision stood amidst the floods of sculptures, you refusing to accept who was teasing the chase. 

You had had enough. 

With one last look at the dream-like illusion, you turned to exit, run out from the gallery to escape your past. 

It was at that moment that the past caught you. 

“Tired of me again, chérie?”

You stilled. 

The entire room, the world stilled, more frozen than the statues around you.

When you truly comprehended the origins of the voice, you whirled around. All thoughts abandoned you the second you truly saw the apparition.

Good God. That was not some apparition. 

You could barely speak.

“J-Jeonghan?”

Yoon Jeonghan. The most famous actor in the world.

He smiled a little, and everything came crashing back—God, he looked so different, yet the exact same since the last time you had seen him. Granted, he dominated every television screen, every cinema theatre, so you never really escaped his existence, but it had been eons since he graced you with his physical presence. 

What had not changed in the slightest was his undeniable charm; he was as beautiful as he was the last time he was in front of you, more so after all these years. He had grown exquisitely into his features—his cheek bones heightened, his soft, delicate nose, coral lips stretching wider the further you examined him. His eyes—his magical, arched eyes—glimmered in the moonlight which shone through the huge windows. A few of his stray locks freed themselves from his beret, accentuating his tenderness—a feature which never left his face.

For a moment, you saw the twenty year old boy, fresh out of drama school, outside of the audition house.

For a second, you forgot why you were here in the first place.

“Bonjour, _____.”

You did not have the voice to greet him back.

Not when you realised the situation the second he said your name—who you were, why the hell you were in this city in the first place. 

Shit.

You could not do this today.

Suddenly, you wished he was a mere figment of your imagination, because then he would not have to see you in your drunken, disordered state, looking for art that was not there, looking for the past in the present.

But then he began to move.

This very real presence walked closer to you, and you felt your entire body constricting, because Yoon Jeonghan was in front of you. The greatest star in the world was approaching you, the man of your distant memories was coming too close.

“Wait,” he then said, and your throat was closing up, you were blinking rapidly, chest growing heavy, and you needed him to get away. He came closer, and you knew then and there you were going to die on the cold floor of the Louvre, marble eyes on you—

And then your own gaze was glistening, and when he noticed it became harder to contain yourself. “_____, are you all right?”

“Yes!” you got out, but then you proved yourself wrong when a few tears slipped out, staining your cheeks.

The man wasted no time, closing the last space between the two of you as he reached out. Instantly, you repelled from his touch, almost flinching from his surprise. “No!” you rasped out, bringing out your own hands to create distance, taking a step back. “No, you don’t need to do that…I’m fine.” 

You breathed sharply through your nose. “I am fine.”

Hastily you turned to the empty space where he last was, before you followed him like a madwoman around the hall. He watched you, your back almost to him. “What…what are you…” you paused, trying to normalise your shaking voice. “What are you doing here?”

You could feel his inquisitive stare upon you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

That question was not being answered. “I asked you first.”

Because you could not see him, you were not aware of his reaction. Still, it was enough for him to answer, “Well, in the Louvre, or in Paris?”

You gritted your teeth at that. “I think everyone knows why you’re in Paris at the moment.”

“Do they, now?”

You could not help it.

Casting a momentary glance at him, you were taken aback to find his gaze upon you. “Are you aware, at least?” he asked you.

Despite his simple questions, your impending headache, you had to clamp down on your remarks. “Of course I’m aware,” you muttered. “The papers are all over the press tours you’ve been doing.”

A perfectly groomed brow arched at your comment. “I’m surprised you follow the papers at the moment.” 

You knew exactly what he meant. “One must keep check of the stories they gossip about,” you only said, focusing back on the empty space. “Those journalists cannot be trusted.”

“Hmm…” you heard shuffling amongst his clothes—no doubt crossing his arms. “I have read the stories.”

A scoff. “I suppose you believe them, don’t you?”

He noted the cruelty in your response. The actor did not take it to heart.

“I have always believed in the stories you told me, chérie.”

This time, curiosity controlled your movement.

Curiosity had you turning back, forcing you to observe his expression, catch his lie. 

But you found no deception.

No, there was only sincerity—pure as the moonlight shining on the two of you.

Chérie.

The last time someone had called you such a sweet name was a lifetime ago.

How ironic, that it was the same man beside you who had bestowed you this very endearment.

A shuddered breath left you. 

You could not do this now.

You were going to say as much when Jeonghan interrupted you.

“Were you looking for something in here?”

Your furrowed brows had him humming. “I thought as much.” Gently, he jerked his head beyond your figure. “Strangely enough, I was looking for it as well.”

Confused, you glanced back at the empty space, where that certain, mysterious sculpture was supposed to be. “That is why I came to the Louvre,” you heard him say.

There was still suspicion laced in your features. “How do you know that we are thinking of the same piece?”

That ghost of a smile crept up again. “You act as if you don’t remember.”

Your sigh was sheepish. “I do,” you said, reminiscing on the memories. “But the name…”

No matter how hard you endeavoured, your memory of the sculpture, and its identity, was too hazy for your half-drunk mind. 

You searched him for an answer. “I’m sure you have not forgotten.”

“No…I have not.”

You waited. His silence had you insisting, “Well?”

When you saw a slight glimmer in his whimsical gaze, you knew that he had something else in mind. The implications had you biting your lower lip, anxiety blooming.

The nerves grew when Jeonghan spoke.

“I will tell you if you see me tomorrow.”

You blinked back.

“There’s an exhibition opening here tomorrow afternoon,” he continued, taking a step towards you, careful not to startle you again. “It’s centred on the sculpture we both wanted to see, but it’s been moved to another hall.”

He confused you a great amount. “How do you know that?”

His stare went beyond you, to the wall. “It says on the plaque.”

Sure enough—when you looked back, there was the notice. Because your French was adequate at best, you did not understand it fully. You simply had to trust his linguistic abilities.

That you could do—you were aware of Jeonghan’s fluency in the language of love. 

He cocked his head, a few strays cascading the side of his face. “You and I could see it there.”

The offer had shaken you. “Why?”

“Why?”

You knitted your brows suspiciously. “Why do you want to go with me?”

The film noir star watched you then, you shuffling uncomfortably under his scrutiny. God, you forgot how intense his eyes were—in fairness, you had not been the subject of his stares for a few years. 

He locked his gloved hands behind his back. “Because you need a break, _____. From everything.”

He offered you a smile. “Let me be the one to give you that. If only for the day.”

You could have crumbled before him.

It was at this stage you cursed yourself for being in such a state. Perhaps if you were sober, you would have carried on this conversation in a more respectable manner, taken more caution.

It was incredibly difficult, composing yourself around the man.

“I can’t…” you inhaled sharply, trying to form the words. “I cannot do midday…too many people, you know…staring, judging…”

“Ah.” He nodded, parting his mouth in thought. “Then tomorrow night?”

Stretching your mouth, unsure, he assured, “They will not follow you here at this hour.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

This time, he sighed, surprised at your anxiousness. “I see you’ve not changed, then.”

You narrowed your gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

But the actor did not seem like he was going to elaborate. 

He instead took another step towards you, a mere two feet left. 

“Do you trust me?”

You tilted your head back. 

What kind of question was that?

Do you trust me?

You did not trust anyone. Not after this whole debacle back home, when almost all your friends within the industry had contributed to your downfall. Hollywood was filled with traitors, the worst being the people who haunted the journey of your disgrace at every moment.

It was impossible to place any ounce of faith in another.

As you watched his eyes settle on you, you noticed an emotion you had not witnessed in forever.

Tenderness.

Tenderness with no ulterior motive—gentle acceptance, as if he recognised your position. As if he recognised your change, the apprehensive nature of your questions, your pauses. It physically hurt being stained with such compassion, when you had been begging for it from the world all those weeks ago.

It hurt, having someone who understood you.

You, however, should not have been surprised.

Yoon Jeonghan had always been like this. Especially when you both were together.

You could have smiled. 

What a time that was.

As if he could read your mind, the film noir star began, “You remember, don’t you? That I’ve never let you down?”

You decided to let yourself slip—you could always blame it on the alcohol. 

“What time do you want me here tomorrow?”

His eyes widened slightly—relief. “This hour. They will not follow us here.”

Nodding hesitantly, you then realised just what hour it was, and inwardly cursed. Seungkwan was going to murder you.

“I…I need to be getting back,” you said, gaze falling to the entrance. “It’s quite late.”

He followed your trail of sight. “Let me walk you to your hotel,” he offered. “I can’t have you stumbling around in Paris at this hour.”

Forever the gentleman. “It’s only a fifteen minute walk from here.”

“All the easier to walk with you, no?”

You averted his stare. “Hmm.”

There was a growing feeling that he was still looking at you. 

His voice morphed a little amusement when he said, “Should we start walking, are you going to spend the night avoiding my gaze?”

Cheeks heating, you gestured to the stairs, deigning only a second-glance. “I’m not…” you trailed off, finding it difficult to lie to him. “Let’s go.”

His eyes followed the stairs. “After you.”

Obliging, your heels conquered the low, marble stairs, his phantom presence right behind you. You took the same route, this time reversed as you tried to exit the museum, the actor pointing out a few works you had missed on the journey to the sculpture hall.

Once you both were out of the gallery, the cool Parisian air kissed your face in greeting. The city had been cloaked by the night, the moon bathing the sanded-stone streets grey, a myriad of stars twinkling in welcome. A heavy sigh fell from your lips, taking in the mellow atmosphere of the coming autumn. 

“Never before…has someone been more…”

Cars could be heard in the distance, a sweet forties’ song tuning in from the neighbouring streets. The noise of the citizens grew louder as you both left the borders of the Louvre Palace, walking along the road. 

“Unforgettable…in every way…”

Jeonghan’s hands went to the top of his trench-coat, lifting up the lapels. Consequently, the sides of his face were hidden from view, effective enough for far-away onlookers to avoid guessing his identity. You, on the other hand, forgot your face mask, but a bitter feeling inside you knew that you did not need it.

Compared to the man beside you, you were nothing.

You hated how envious you had become.

“Why the frown?”

Perking up at his question, you shrugged, not wishing to elaborate over your unreasonable emotions. “Nothing. Simply tired.”

Fixing his beret, he asked, “Oh? Are you working on something?”

You shook your head, quirking your mouth to the side. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” A hint of sarcasm slipped into your response, without control. “One can’t find much work when one is scandalised from the industry.”

“One won’t be able to find work, dear _____,” he countered, “If one is hiding from the industry.”

“One is not hiding,” you griped. “One is…thinking. Figuring out one’s situation.”

A lingering, incredulous look. “One needs to travel across an entire continent to think?”

This time, you returned it—surprised him with your misery. “When one’s situation is this bleak, even travelling across continents is not enough.”

Jeonghan’s melancholic frown had you looking ahead. “Whatever,” you said, “At least Seungkwan has not given up on me.”

The name had the actor almost lighting up. “Seungkwan? He’s here with you?”

“I dragged him with me when I left LA.” You huffed out a chuckle. “Poor bastard has been finding auditions for me in every corner of this place. I don’t think he realises that no one actually wants me amidst…all this.”

Turning into another slimmer road, your company slowed his stride. “You will climb up from this. Every actor in Hollywood has had a scandal, some worse than yours!”

“It’s been weeks, Jeonghan!” you exclaimed, growing restless. Noticing a few heads rise from your slight outburst, you tried to sober your speech. “I just…I don’t think I can come back from this.”

His tone softened, a mere muttering. “You cannot give up hope.”

You did not deign him a glance. “There is no more hope to give up.”

The actor was silenced by your declaration.

The two of you did not say much more, walking on the roads until you reached your hotel, marked by the tall, bronze column, a statue of famed, Corsican general at the very top. 

When Jeonghan regarded the sheer luxury of your residence, he quirked a groomed brow. “For someone with no job, you sure are living like a blockbuster actress.”

Your sour glare his way had him laughing softly. “I still have funds from my earliest hits,” you crowed. “And why shouldn’t I live like a star?”

“I wonder how Seungkwan feels about your opinion,” he pondered, greatly entertained. “Last time I remember he promised to fix your spendthrift habits.”

Crossing your arms, you strolled closer to the hotel. “He’s not kept his word, then. I am a pauper living like a princess.”

He followed your trail. “That’s because you were a princess once.” His hands slid in his pockets. “Ruling over cinema.”

The grand doors of the Ritz were right in front of you. “And now the king of film wishes to associate with his disgraced subject.”

But this king, face half-hidden from the crowd, only observed you in the lamplights. “No, it is…simply two people from the past, catching each other in the present.”

You shuddered out an exhale. 

It was not as if he was wrong.

Jeonghan was a figure of the past—since your publicised breakup with him, the two of you had never really spoken, an offence you supposed you could not rest at his door. You had seen him everywhere in your time in LA, but you knew he had been erased from your future. 

You never thought you would see him in that gallery room.

Even now, blinking back your booze-induced drowsiness, you wondered if he truly was in the present—here, before you, in all his fantastical, otherworldly glory. He stood, trying to read you like a new screenplay, uncovering the plot, the conflicts of your person, and you wondered whether he would succeed. 

He had always been so wonderfully perceptive. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you said to him.

The stare was prevalent when he asked, “Like what?”

When you started pursing your mouth at him, he huffed mirthfully through his nose. “Fine.”

“I am all right, you know,” you muttered. “Always was, always will be.”

“Will you be?”

You did not answer his question.

Of course you will not be all right—but he did not need to know this.

“Goodnight, Jeonghan.”

Turning your back to him, you made to enter the hotel.

“It was good to see you.”

His voice paused your movement. 

“You know…after so long.”

A look over your shoulder—you watched him in his long-hair, bereted, midnight glory. His lapels had drooped, exposing his face much more, but he did not seem to care so much—not as much as you would have, in his place. 

When you deigned him a response, you blamed the remaining alcohol in your system for such candid honesty.

“It was good to see you too.”

With that, you turned, a haste in your step as you slipped inside the hotel.

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 30TH SEPTEMBER, 1954

WORLD STAR YOON JEONGHAN SPOTTED ENTERING THE LOUVRE NEAR MIDNIGHT!

Our favourite actor was seen going inside our landmark museum in the late hours of the night, unaccompanied and hidden. It has only been a week since he has arrived in the city, and although he is here for his movie’s promotion, he clearly sees Paris as more than just a stop in a press tour! 

Our readers must be aware of Jeonghan being an avid art enthusiast. Many a time he has expressed his admiration for the classical masters, as well as the contemporary scene that is growing popular in major cities in Europe. Maybe, once the film is released, he will stay longer with us, and indulge in Parisian culture.

Until then, enjoy the pictures of our star, smiling at the cameras!

YOU WERE STILL UNSURE WHETHER YOU HAD TRULY MET JEONGHAN.

The trek back to your room had been occupied with your thoughts, debating whether you had truly encountered a man of that influence, merely sauntering in a gallery. Of course, you were aware that you had not crossed the point of pure delusion, but you had hallucinated in the past while intoxicated.

You had even woken up in a daze, undisturbed by Seungkwan’s usual calls to trudge into audition houses. This time, it seemed as if he left you alone, which was incredibly fortunate, seeing as you had plans for today.

You considered mentioning your strange, unexpected meeting to him, but then you held back, resorting to pacing in your room. You doubted whether he would believe it, seeing his exasperation with your recent behaviour.

If you told your agent that you were somehow meeting a renowned ex-boyfriend, whose very presence beside you would ruin his reputation and revive yours, then he would have truly had a heart attack. That would not be the most ideal situation, considering he was the very reason you were not completely ruined. 

Satisfied with your decision, you resorted to staying in your hotel room, scouring through the very tabloids that tormented you over information you had not bothered searching for before. Sure enough, it was not difficult finding his name within the texts—if you had columns written about you, then Jeonghan had pages, singing praises of his upcoming film. You hated how bitter you were, seeing his stellar reviews, barely anything negative about his behaviour. You knew that such popularity had to be a double-edged sword, but the man had managed to maintain the perfect balance without harm.

A scowl marred your features. Of course you had to be pricked with the downsides of fame.

Throwing the magazines to the side, you debated ordering a bottle of wine, but then immediately shook your head.

Tonight, you could not be drunk around him. You needed your thoughts to be settled when you saw him again, because you had a feeling that he was very capable of rattling them. Not that you had feelings to evidence this—your ex-lover possessed a rare trait to render you nervous in his presence. 

The rest of the day was spent thinking about the late night encounter, and when night had fallen, you prepared yourself for the next meeting. You settled for soft colours, white button-up shirt and a pink long-skirt, hem caressing your shins. Slipping on your heels, you perched a half-hat upon your hair. Taking hold of a face mask, you slipped it on, hoping it would hide you from the incoming press. 

Satisfied, you took your handbag, leaving the room and locking the door behind you.

Leaving the Ritz, you were relieved to find no one recognising you as you walked out of the entrance, calling a cab on the street. It was only five minutes to the Louvre, so you did not have to wait until you arrived at the destination. Paying the fare, you exited the vehicle, slipping into the museum through its main entrance.

Although you were expecting the grand, ornate hallways of the once-palace-turned-gallery, what you did not prepare yourself for was two guards approaching you. 

Their stern greeting was laced heavily with their accents. “‘Scuse-moi madame, the museum is closed.”

“You cannot be here!”

Instantly, you recoiled from them, irritation spreading as you brought down your mask. “But I came here at the same time yesterday!”

“The museum has closed early today for a private showing,” the other guard explained, reaching out to guide you back out. “We apologise for the inconvenience, but—”

“Who the hell is renting out the Louvre for themselves?” you demanded, waving off the men who tried to escort you out. “All right, all right, I’m leaving, goodness!”

Grumbling, you made to leave, security right behind you to make sure of it.

That was when you heard a familiar, sultry voice.

“Elle est avec moi ce soir.”

The guards turned around, taking you in their direction.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him.

There, just across from you, Jeonghan stood, looking as if he had stolen the night and etched its darkness into his attire. This time, his trench-coat, beret, trousers were all bathed in the black, almost silhouetting against the shadows of the hall. His stretched hand gestured to you as he focused on the men that wished you out.

Then, he glanced at you. “She is with me this evening.”

Security immediately let you go, apologising profusely in French as you dusted at your shirt. You dipped your neck in acceptance, a sheepish expression upon your face because you could not respond to them. Once the actor stepped closer to you, he ordered a few things in his Parisian accent, and you wished then that you had practised the language of a country you were so hell-bent on hiding in.

Security soon returned to their original places, leaving the two of you alone.

You, alone with Jeonghan.

The film noir star regarded you with a peculiar enthusiasm. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t come.”

The first urge was to ask him why, but you supposed he was not unfair for saying such a thing. “I was unsure of whether I dreamt you up or not.”

A slight curl of his lips. “Have I given you certainty now?”

You decided to be honest. “Only a little.”

His mouth curled wider. “Well then…” He raised his hand to the world of art before you. “I have the whole night to convince you.”

You should have returned his smile. 

This time, though, you were sober. 

Apprehensively, you walked up to him. Only then he commenced, leading you into another universe, far away from the press, the people, the world and its restrictions.

The only sound as you both walked were the clicks of your heels, the soft thumps of his boots. You wished he would strike a conversation, ease the nerves that decided to enliven within you. You supposed, though, that releasing you of your anxiety was not the actor’s job. It did not help that Jeonghan had never felt a fraction of your nerves.

Probably. It was only a guess—you did not know this Jeonghan, the man that dominated world cinema.

At least he retained his perceptive behaviour, because a minute later, he said, “You will enjoy the exhibition, _____…very nostalgic.”

“Oh?” You admired the gold arches, the intricate detailing of the ceilings. “How so?”

“You’ll see. I don’t want to spoil anything.”

Not particularly satisfied with his response, you targeted him with another question. “Are we truly the only people here?” When he nodded lightly, as if it was the easiest thing to obtain, you had to gawk. “How did you manage to close off the Louvre?”

He slid his hands in his coat pockets. “I suppose being an actor has its benefits.”

Both taking a left, you countered, “I’m an actor, too, but I would never be granted a private audience here.”

“Let me rephrase,” he said, mouth morphing into a smirk, “Being a famous actor has its benefits.”

A crude scoff escaped your throat, unable to contain itself. “Oh my God!”

Your reaction had the man spluttering into laughter, closing his eyes and dipping his head. That only made you scowl all the more, and when he settled into amusement, he brought his face to yours, slowing his walk. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” he mused, “You know I like to tease you.” His eyes regarded your offence, your features slowly easing. “Or have you forgotten how to have a little fun?”

You waved him off, looking beyond his inquisitive gaze. “I have changed plenty since you last met me.”

“Since yesterday?”

A glare. “You know what I mean.”

The man kept silent, merriment lingering in his features as you both slowed your pacing. Huge banners welcomed you over the grand doorway, reciting the name of the exhibition beyond the hall you stopped in.

Another memory penetrated your mind at the name.

LOVE IS LOST, YET LOVE IS FOUND—DEPICTIONS OF CUPID AND PSYCHE.

“Ah…” Jeonghan walked ahead, reading the title. “We’re here.”

Cupid and Psyche.

You remembered why the subjects were so familiar. 

He looked back at you. “Shall we?”

Your vision stayed on the banners for a moment longer before directing it at him, nodding slowly. “Yes…let’s.”

With an uncertain feeling towards the room before you, and even more uncertain feeling towards the man beside you, you entered the exhibition, expecting nothing.

You were welcomed with everything.

Cupids and Psyches were everywhere in the room, depicted within centuries-old pages and ink, oil upon wood and canvas, carved from ancient marble, bathed in every wall and floor of the room. The winged god and his human lover were unmissable in the works of art dedicated to them, and you glanced at the entry paragraphs, discussing the subjects.

Your amazement had the man beside you chuckling. “Stunning, isn’t it?”

“I…” you could not even finish your words, finding the first glass cabinet, where dozens of drawings of the two lovers were shown. “How did you know about this?”

You felt his presence nearby. “You know I never miss an exhibition in Paris.”

One depiction caught your interest—a quick ink drawing of Cupid holding Psyche in his arms, wings resting behind his shoulders. “Still an avid art enthusiast?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Of course.” You could have sworn you felt his eyes on you. “You may have changed, but I have stayed the same.”

You held in the urge to make a face at him. “Fame changes everyone,” you snarled, “And you have received enough to become a new person.”

A pause. “Do you want me to be different?”

You snuck a glance at him—he was occupied by a large painting, this time a clothed Psyche watching over a slumbering Cupid. As you walked closer, investigating it further, the details became clearer, the god engulfed in pillows and darkness, the only light coming from his lover’s lamp. 

You decided not to answer him. You could not—you had nothing to silence him with.

So you moved on, finding little solace in the artwork around you. “What I want,” you said instead, “Is for you to stop bringing me to these exhibitions. I have never enjoyed them as much as you have.”

Listening to his soft chuckling, you heard him say, “Well, that I wish I had forgotten!” He turned around, casting a glance at you. “But don’t abuse the exhibition just yet.”

“I don’t hate it,” you offered, involving yourself in the sculpture work. There were a couple dozen peppered in the far side of the room, each bearing an inscription, and which part of the mythology it depicts.

You read the first tablet. L’Amour et Psyché. It was the same scene, but this particular Psyche was half-nude, gazing over the sleeping Cupid. The detailing on this sculpture was more precise, more life-like. Leaning closer to inspect the winged creature’s face, the innocence moulded into his features had you fully endeared.

You wondered what their story was.

It was not as if you were unaware of what Cupid represented, but everyone had seen him more as a chubby angel-child, holding his arrows of love, ready to strike up trouble. In fact, you had not known that Cupid, too, had been struck by his own weapon over a mere human.

The train of your thoughts would have kept running in the tracks of your mind had a certain man not stopped it suddenly.

“This isn’t the one you were looking for.”

Perking up, you twisted your head to where Jeonghan was. He tilted his head to the furthest artwork, obscured by his figure. Your confused expression had him beaming.

He stepped away from your line of sight.

The star sculpture of the night was unveiled.

By God. That was the one.

Completely dazed, your feet gravitated towards the work of art, becoming clearer the closer you were pulled to its spell. You could not avert your stare from its allure, drinking in its details. Cupid, with utmost gentleness, held Psyche’s lolling head, as if pulling back from a searing kiss. His saved lover stretched her hands towards his curls, naked body resting on the rocks. His wings were outstretched, flaring back, details of his feathers etched into the off-white marble. 

Your cheeks could have burned at the sight of them.

It was as if you were interrupting them—pushing yourself in a moment that was not open to the rest of the world. You could never comprehend how someone could carve such adoration in stone, but the way they gazed at each other had your heart breaking in a million little pieces.

You could have looked at the two lovers forever.

“Psyche revived by Cupid’s Kiss.”

Snapping out of your daze, you saw the actor step beside you, admiring the work before him. “Exquisite, is it not?”

This time, you could not argue with him. “It truly is.”

His eyes slid to where you stood. “Do you remember when we first saw it?”

Your lips threatened to tug upwards. 

That was a memory you could not forget.

Now that you had seen the sculpture, you could recall the first time you had seen it. Interestingly enough, this very man was with you when you exposed the same awe you had just then, peering at the marble lovers as if you had uncovered a secret revelation in their embrace. You could even remember the faint clicking of his camera as he captured your admiration in that photograph. You wondered whether he kept any pictures of you together on your first trip to this city.

But you did not confess such ramblings to him.

No, you only got out, “I do.”

He was satisfied with your answer. “Do you know their story?” A tick of his head to the subjects. “Of them two?”

You shook your head. “I suppose you’ll enlighten me?”

A glance at you. “Only this once.”

You returned it, turning your back to him. “Go on, then,” you said, making to move. “Educate me.”

When you took your first step around the sculpture, Jeonghan commenced.

“Before Cupid came here, Psyche was stuck in an eternal sleep. She let curiosity take the better of her.”

Another slow stride, you observing the stretch of Cupid’s legs, the perched foot. “What happened to her?”

“She was given a jar, filled with divine beauty by Proserpina—Roman Persephone—to give to Venus. She was warned not to open the contents. Curiosity took over her, though, and she opened the jar, desperate to have some of that famed beauty.” 

He slid his hands in his pocket. “However, there was no divine essence in that jar, but the darkest sleep. It was a sleep no one could escape from.”

Gradually, you inspected the detail of the god’s wings, but you were occupied with the storyteller’s words. “And then?”

“What then? She fell into oblivion. A deep sleep that no one could wake her from.”

Although you were hidden from the mythical bodies, you swore your ex’s stare penetrated through marble. “She was considered unsavable, _____. Doomed forever.”

Your throat constricted, steps faltering. You did not understand why it hurt you so much, knowing it was just a story—hell, her fate was revealed in the sculpture’s title.

Still, you asked him, a speck of fear in your voice, “Then?” 

You heard his footsteps edge closer. “Well…Cupid found her sleeping, and touched the tip of his arrow upon her.” 

Sure enough, you spied the quiver of arrows upon his side, strap slung over his shoulder. “And what did that do?”

His presence was near, so near. “He found that…that his love-tipped arrow healed his beloved.”

When you turned, taking the step into view, you found Jeonghan’s eyes rooted to you. Only the curve of Psyche’s hip, perched on the rock, remained between you two.

When the film noir actor parted his mouth, you held onto his every word.

“He saved her, chérie, from her downfall.”

You hitched your breath, unable to move.

You could not look away from him.

“Did he, now?”

“He did.” And when you gulped, his gaze flickered to the bob of your throat, before imprisoning you with his stare once more. “Because he would have done anything to revive his lover’s soul.”

Oh, God.

His words snatched every atom of oxygen in the hall.

You could not do this sober. You could not do this at all.

“Jeonghan, I—” you backed away a little, feeling your heartbeat fastening with every second. “I must go.”

He sensed your sudden panic. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I just…” you tried to stabilise your breathing. “It’s very late. I should be going back.”

Circling around the sculpture, he removed the obstacle. “Is everything okay?”

You nodded quickly, lungs faltering with each second that passed in his presence. “Yes, I need to just…Seungkwan will be worried.”

Had he not known you for such a long time, he would have questioned you further, freed the real reason out of you.

Tonight, though, he would not pester you.

“All right.”

He ticked his head towards the entrance. “Let’s go.”

The two of you swiftly exited the grand exhibition, the Cupids and Psyches watching you leave—had these statues had even a spark of life, they would have spent it in anticipation, watching the broken couple walk side by side out of the museum.

You dared not speak to him as you left the Louvre, Jeonghan thanking the guards earnestly for their overtime, following after you. Thankfully, the night was still young—the likelihood of any sudden cameras flashing in your face was second to none. 

As you and your companion left the expanse of the Palace, you found a sleek, black Bentley waiting on the large road. Jeonghan hummed out at its recognition, gesturing towards it. “Ah, no need to walk much then.”

Stopping before the luxurious vehicle, you locked your hands behind your back, your gaze upon his face.

His words at the museum came ringing back into your mind.

He saved her, chérie, from her downfall.

Despite the Parisian chill, your face burned. 

“Well…I guess this is it.”

Jeonghan’s face exposed confusion. “Whatever do you mean?”

You raised your brows. “I did say I had to go.”

“No, I know that.” His gaze slid to the car door. “But I assumed I’ll be driving you home.”

In other circumstances, you would have jumped at the chance. Tonight, though, he had spoken some flowery truths, and made your heart uneasy. “No, you don’t have to,” you assured him, looking at your journey back home. “My hotel is only ten minutes away. I wouldn’t mind the walk.”

He then pondered for a moment before making another offer. 

“Take my car.”

You were going to object, but he interrupted, “I know what you’re going to say, but I insist. It’s too late to walk alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” you then insisted. “At least no one would bother me on the way.” You did not know why, but your voice turned sharp. “If you still live in the Passy apartment, then it’s an hour’s walk from here. These journalists will find you at that time.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I think the both of us know that I never cared about the press…whatever they published about me.”

Right. Of course. “I see,” you could only say back, shuffling on your feet.

“_____.”

You paused. 

He stepped forward—careful, as if you would flinch should he come any closer. “Don’t worry about me and take the car.” 

After a hard sigh, you reached out to the car, grabbing the handle. With a tug the backseat door opened. 

You stepped down from the pavement, about to enter the vehicle when you halted.

Turning around, you parted your mouth.

“I didn’t mean to leave so suddenly,” you began, not quite sure where this was heading. “I just…well, thank you, I guess.”

“Thank you?”

“For the ride…” you furrowed your brows, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. “And well, you know…for tonight.”

And for the story of a love lost—and then a love found.

Jeonghan’s smile was infectious—it struck your mouth to curl upwards too.

“You have a good night, _____.”

The response slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“I already have.”

That earned you an outright grin, his nose crinkling near the top. “Have you?”

But now you were flustered, forcing yourself into the car. His soft laughter made you hug your coat tighter around yourself. “Good night,” you muttered, ready to slam the door shut had he not clutched the outside handle. 

Leaning down, he uncovered his face, lopsided as his beaming had you further embarrassed. “At least say it to my face before you close the door on me.”

Your huff was greatly exaggerated. “Have an amazing, fantastic, unforgettable night, Jeonghan,” you hissed.

His eyes danced a waltz that you remembered, all those years ago.

“I already have.”

And before you could say anything more, he closed the door for you, urging the chauffeur to drive on. 

As the man asked you for your destination, you could only mumble out the Ritz’s location, mind in another universe entirely as the Bentley soared to life.

The further you drove from the enigmatic actor, the more you strained your neck, trying to catch a sight of him through the back glass. Settling back down, you bit your bottom lip, clutching at the sash of your coat.

He saved her, chérie, from her downfall.

Because he would have done anything to revive his lover’s soul.

You gripped the sash tighter.

One thing, at least, you had learned for certain.

Yoon Jeonghan was not of your delusions.

He was very, intensely, frighteningly real.

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 4TH OCTOBER, 1954

SUPERSTAR JEONGHAN’S BIRTHDAY BASH PLANNED IN BIG-TIME LOCATION! ALLEGED NAMES TO BE INVITED…

We wish the happiest birthdays to the world’s sweetheart, Yoon Jeonghan! As our dear star celebrates his happy day in a world of press tours and back-to-back interviews, we have a source which tells us that he will be occupied tonight by his co-stars, who plan to throw him a party that Paris talks about for the rest of the month! Unfortunately, dear readers, the event is kept very hushed, but fear not—we will bring details for all you curious fans!

Do be satisfied with exclusive photos of the actor strolling along the Seine banks at 2 o’ clock in the morning! We wonder where he was coming back from…

PERHAPS RUNNING AWAY FROM THE GREATEST LIVING ACTOR WAS NOT THE SMARTEST DECISION YOU HAD EVER MADE. 

It was not as if you had any other options. His words had struck beyond your skin— caught onto the webs of your soul, and refused to escape, no matter how ardently you tried to wrench them out with your self-reassurances. 

He should not have said anything akin to what he confessed that night, four days ago. You knew he was merely narrating a fairytale, but the look in his eyes as he recited the love story haunted you every night since.

You did not understand whether the unease, settling too comfortably in your veins, was a feeling you would rather live without, or a sensation you had come to enjoy as you pondered over his words. You did not leave your hotel room, mess of clothes and room service food piling up with every passing day. 

Even catching the headline for Jeonghan’s imminent birthday celebrations had you delving deeper into the mind abyss, more so when that day arrived.

Your eyes wandered to the telephone, perched upon the small, circular table by the window. 

Perhaps you should call him. 

A harsh laugh escaped you.

Very funny.

Not that you could call him—his apartment phone number was lost on your ears. 

Nevermind. That possibly idiotic option died before it could be seriously considered. 

A continuous, sharp rapping on your hotel door had you rising briskly from your speculations. 

“Seungkwan,” you muttered. 

Walking over your mess, you reached out to the knob, opening the intricate door.

“It’s a wonder I’m not greeted by your corpse every time I come here.”

“Good morning to you too, asshole,” you chirped back, striding back into your room, waiting for your dear agent to close the door. “And just for a heads-up, I am not auditioning for anything today.”

“See, I knew you would say something like this, so I did not even bother.” He sighed out the world’s air from his lungs, as if shouldering a burden greater than any human has experienced. “I have officially, legally given up on you.”

“Oh really?” you hissed, settling yourself on a chair by the telephone table. “Then why bring your oh so valuable self to my door today, when you have officially, legally given up on me?”

Fingers dipping into his inner waistcoat pocket, Seungkwan fished out a red envelope, cursive black ink on the front. “I received a very ominous letter at my doorstep.” He strode over to where you sat, taking the opposite chair. “It was meant for you.”

You waved off the letter. “You open it,” you said, leaning back in the seat. “It’s probably another tabloid scare. God knows how they could find my hotel room number.”

“Lazy,” the man muttered before ripping open the fold, taking out a sleek card of the same colour, bordered with intricate, black lining. Interest piquing, you watched him read the contents, brows furrowing by the second.

When his eyes went completely round, you straightened, confused. “What is it?”

But he only ticked his head to the side, rereading the writings etched onto the red paper. Tossing the envelope on the table, he was rooted to this letter, brows scrunched so close together they could have become one.

“You’re scaring me,” you began, hand reaching out to take the letter, only to fail when he distanced himself. “What the hell is on there?”

After a moment, he closed his eyes, grinning. “It’s all fine. I think someone is playing a very sly trick on us.”

“What?” You got out, but he was only chuckling, as if he had been caught acting like a fool. “Now you’re just making me angry!”

“Well, let me help reverse that anger, my dear!” He brought the card out to you. “Do have a read and laugh!”

Completely baffled, you took it from him, reading the words which had brought Seungkwan to such a state.

Your own eyes nearly burst from their sockets. 

Dear _____,

You have been cordially invited to celebrate the birthday of Yoon Jeonghan. The celebration is planned to be grand, with the entire Moulin Rouge booked out to perform cabarets, drink champagne and dance away the night.

As this event is private, we ask to be discreet when you arrive, and only bring one other person with you, as only the best of the best are to attend.

We hope to see you tonight, 8 o’ clock onwards. A car will be waiting outside your hotel to bring you to the destination.

Signed,

YOON JEONGHAN.

“Oh…my God.”

Your agent snorted, straightening his waistcoat. “Is that not hilarious?!” he started, folding a leg over the other. “I must say, the press is becoming much too creative to get us out of private circles! Yoon Jeonghan, huh!” 

You kept staring at the letter, feeling your heart rise to your throat as he carried on rambling his disbelief. “This must be another way to torment you, _____, but don’t you worry! I will get to the bottom of whoever did this.”

He turned his head to you. “So what if he was your ex? Way to rip out an old flame from the past! You both haven’t spoken in years.”

That comment could have made you flinch.

When he caught the dread in your face, he halted. “Why do you look like you’re about to hurl your guts up?”

Your smile was more of a grimace. “Well, um…you see…”

“Oh my God.” He gripped onto the arms of his chair. “What the hell have you done?”

“Why are you assuming I have done something?” you demanded, but it left your mouth much weaker than you anticipated.

“Because I have cleaned enough of your messes,” he responded sharply. “Why are you looking so guilty?”

“Well…erm…” It was like you were a criminal, confessing to a dozen murders. “You know when, um, you said that Jeonghan and I…haven’t spoken in years?”

His eyebrows must have been exhausted from all the furrowing they had done in the past ten minutes. “What are you trying to tell me?”

You averted your gaze, instead choosing to engrain it on your unmade bed. 

“I…may or may not have…seen Jeonghan…five days ago…”

Mustering your bravado, you snuck a peek at your agent. 

His poor eyes were as wide as saucers. 

You shrunk back. “Twice.”

Looking away again, you waited in agonising silence for him to take in the ground-breaking piece of information. This was not another failed audition, nor was this the sheer astonishment to find you half-dead from the drinking. This was something he did not think you were capable of experiencing. 

After a good while, you heard him speak.

“Yoon Jeonghan…” A pause. “The Yoon Jeonghan…the biggest actor in Hollywood…”

“…yes?”

Seungkwan spewed out curses so colourful they could have painted the entire hotel. 

Even you had to clamp down on your lips to stop yourself from gasping. When he was done, he dipped his whole body down, putting his head in his hands. Only then, you let yourself observe his possible mental breakdown, hugging your legs to your chest. 

It must have been a good twenty minutes, sitting, watching his dejected position, when he heaved himself up, rubbing his face. Sighing, he finally turned to you, exasperation staining his features. 

“How much have you had to drink in the past week?”

You ticked your head back. “What?” 

“You’ve done this before, _____,” he continued, getting up from his seat. “Delusion! I heard you say such crazy things when you hit the papers then. It’s just the drink getting to you. Fucking Yoon Jeonghan…”

“No, Seungkwan, you have to believe me.” You got up from your own chair. “I met him the day I was passed out, when I was rejected from that side-lead role.” 

“Where would you even meet him?”

You looked to the window, to the city beyond. “The Louvre…?”

It was not as if you were lying—the way you said it, though, had the agent doubting you even more. “You? The Louvre? Now I really don’t believe you.”

“Please!” you insisted, watching him pace about in your room. “I may have said some questionable things before, but I’m telling the truth this time!”

He did not answer you, only sparing you withering glimpses with every turn. At some point, he groaned as he halted in the middle.

“I just cannot understand…” Hanging his head low, he propped his hands to his hips. “I cannot get my head around…”

“What?” you asked, desperation clear in your voice. “What else is there to understand?”

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were narrowed—accusatory.

“Why was Jeonghan wanting to meet you?”

You paused.

Seungkwan fully faced you, then, cocking his head. “After everything that had happened…” 

His voice involuntarily quietened. “After what you did…”

But you raised your hand, all fingers curling save for your pointer. “Don’t,” you muttered. “I don’t need your speech. Not today.”

Second hand raising, they held onto the man’s shoulders, gripping tight. “Look, I know this is crazy…I-I truly get it…but you have to believe me. 

“I need you to believe in me.”

He inspected your agony, the nails that started to dig into his clothes. Gritting his teeth, he should know better than to go along with your follies, and nurse you out of your despair when it causes ruination every time. He had to recognise your self-destructive tendencies, especially since he was always at the scene of your crimes. 

In that moment, though, with the amount of hope you held in your eyes…

He had a feeling that this time, he could not let you down.

So, with a harsh sigh through his nose, he held your arms, pushing them off. “Fine,” he got out, scowling at how easily you were elated. “But!”

You were already whirling around, running to your wardrobe. “Oh, thank you, Seungkwan, thank you, thank you! God, I must begin preparations at once!”

“_____! I have a condition!”

But you paid him no mind, searching through your more luxurious outfits—the ones that managed the cut when you rush-packed for this spontaneous journey. “Go on, Seungkwan. Throw me something truly horrendous!”

There was a moment’s quiet before he spoke.

“If this night turns out to be a sham, then we are leaving Paris.”

That certainly dampened your spirits.

You turned around. “That truly is horrendous.”

The agent did not smile. “I mean it. You have my interest for now, _____, but if this is another one of your drunken plans then I cannot humour them anymore.”

Had you not beseeched for his faith mere minutes ago, you would have started arguing with him. At least this once, you had to let him keep the condition.

Even if it meant leaving your sanctuary—and the certain people that resided within it.

DESPITE SEUNGKWAN’S SUSPICIONS, THE RIDE TO MOULIN ROUGE ARRIVED AT THE VERY MINUTE IT WAS PROMISED.

You ushered him to introduce yourself to the chauffeur, watching out of your window as he made his way to the entrance, introducing himself in his usual charismatic charm. You could only hear certain words—courtesy of your hotel room being five floors high—but when you saw your agent looking at you down below, signalling your presence, you knew it was time.

Leaving the windowsill, you inspected yourself in the floor-length mirror in your room, checking the final details. Fortunately for you, you had kept your winter Dior gown from several years ago, worn once at a private party back in LA. Although a little out of fashion for this night, it was still as gorgeous as the first time you had worn it; it was a creation of black silk and velvet, sleeveless bodice tightly fitted as the heavy skirt flowed down. The showstopper detail were the two, huge swoops of midnight velvet, creating an appearance of a huge bow, fitted at the edges of your bodice’s hem. You added to the dress by wearing white gloves, reaching till your elbow, and adorning black diamonds, settled around your neck. The matching earrings glimmered in the hotel lights, accentuating your makeup.

For someone who had lost her stylists, artists, designers and the like, you had truly outdone yourself.

You allowed yourself a deep, hard breath.

You were ready.

Once you fished out a fur scarf, you wrapped it around yourself, making sure your face remained at least half-hidden. Deep down, if the journalists caught you travelling to Moulin Rouge, you knew you would not hate it too much.

So what if you were creating anarchy in the Parisian parties? At least you would look exquisite doing so.

Exiting the hotel room, you locked the door shut, making your way down to the entrance. Once you felt the Parisian air you lifted your scarf, making sure no one recognised you as Seungkwan ushered you, his mask covering his nose and mouth.

The closer you hastened to your car, the more you could observe its sheer opulence. Jeonghan certainly paid no mind to expenses, providing a Porsche Limousine for his guests. Once you entered inside the car there was champagne in the foot of the huge seats, and you could have sworn Seungkwan could have kicked his feet in mid-air over the sight.

“Perhaps I should let you carry on with your delusions!” 

“Enough!”

The ride to Moulin Rouge was not far in the slightest, but it felt like forever. You wished it had lasted forever, because the nearer you rode to your destination, the more tangible the idea became that the tabloids had discovered the location for Jeonghan’s private party. Yes, you distinctly remembered, not even an hour ago, that you did not care for the piranha-like press, but now you were out of the comforts of your hotel, and into the great, wide world. 

“_____, snap out of it.”

You winced at your agent’s order, sucking your teeth. He fixed his bow-tie, continuing, “Now that you’ve proved me wrong, you cannot shy away from tonight. If that poor man invited you, then you owe it to him to go.”

Nodding absent-mindedly, you locked your hands upon your lap. Seungkwan was right—Jeonghan had the decency to extend the olive branch, even when you had hastened your departure the last time you had encountered him. Admittedly, he was reciting riddles you had quickly deciphered, but you were too much of a coward to insist what his true intentions were behind his whimsical speech. Your history with him was overwhelming enough; you did not need it to further entangle your present with him.

Still. You could not help feeling a little thrilled at seeing his invitation. You meant what you said to him that night.

You were incredibly pleased to see him—even if you had not expressed it properly to him.

The chauffeur slowed the vehicle at the front of the destination, the signature red lights of the mill flashing excitedly in the black night, wrapped all around the dome. The white lights of MUSIC HALL, plastered at the front of the establishment, flickered as your ride finally stopped. Quickly checking your surroundings, you breathed out in relief, not realising you were holding it in.

There seemed to be no flashing cameras nearby.

Seungkwan opened his door, which was next to the entrance. “Right,” he commenced, one leg out of the car. “Let us go!”

Once he was fully out, he brought out his hand for you. Taking it, you carefully manoeuvred your dress, taking great pains not to crease its silk panels as you heaved out of the car, making certain your face still hid from the rush of guests. When your dress had left the vehicle, your companion shut the door, ushering instructions for the chauffeur to drive wherever the rest of Jeonghan’s employees were stationed.

Offering his arm, you accepted gratefully, turning to look at him, face covered save for his determined eyes.

He tilted his head to the entrance—all he needed was your approval.

You nodded.

With your heart in your throat, you both stepped inside the Moulin Rouge, the first great event you had attended since the night of your downfall.

It was utter chaos.

Although you had been to the Moulin Rouge in the past, you had missed its grand reopening three years prior, when one of the Hollywood actors had renovated the establishments and extended its services to the elite population. You took in the grand, theatre-like atmosphere, engulfed with reds of all shades and textures, the colour of blood and rubies and danger flooding your senses. Dozens of tables, overflowing to the brim with food and drink, were occupied by some of the greatest actors of your time, filling the halls with merry conversation. Chandeliers, dangling off the high ceilings of the theatre, shined the place with sparkly light, reflecting off the diamonds in your necklace, and the thousand other jewels everyone adorned.

The real stars of this show, however, were the ladies in the centre of the stage—the cabaret dancers, their vibrant, peacock-like appearance shocking and wowing their high-class crowd. With their feather headpieces as big as their bodies, they twirled about in their frilly skirts, exposing their stockinged legs, causing either furious blushing or drunken hooting. Most sang in slurred French, while others flirted with their audience, their silent conversations returned with glee.

The entire place was chaos only the rich would indulge in.

This was the chaos you had missed out on, for all these months. 

“What the…” Seungkwan breathed out, unable to finish his shocked cursing. You shared in his sentiments, though, when you could not believe what your vision exposed to you. 

Even so, with everything that raged around you, your eyes scoured for the one man you entered this jungle of fame for. 

It was so strange—so incredibly extraordinary—that when you did find him, in the thick of the jungle, men and women like vines, entangling his figure, he was not focused on his admirers.

No, he did not care for the people around him, because his dark eyes found yours, long before you had found his.

You parted your mouth, the noise of the cabaret tuned out.

There he stood, a dark angel among the demons of Paris, waiting for you in the modern underworld. His usual soft curls had been straightened, along with his fringes, curtaining his face on the sides. Forever the fashion-revolutionary, he had worn a simple white vest underneath his sleek, black blazer, boots tapping softly against the beat of the music. Even with the distance separating the two of you, he had somehow robbed the very oxygen from your throat. 

Then he smiled at you, making a move forward, and all you could do was stay still. 

You could only watch as he muttered soft excuses to his guests, rooted to you as he crept closer. Your agent raised a brow at your changed demeanour, trying to follow your line of sight, but he did not catch the man who was charged with shocking you quiet.

He was about to ask what had gotten into you when the culprit emerged from the crowds.

Seungkwan’s mouth dropped to the floor.

“What the fuck?”

It seemed only Yoon Jeonghan could have finished his curses.

The film noir star eased up the carpeted steps, stopping before the two of you.

“Good evening to you, too, dear Seungkwan,” he said, voice like a balm among the boom of the Rouge.  

But then he slid those haunting eyes to you—all over you, darting on the details of your dress—and you could have melted to the floor. 

You knew instantly that he recognised the outfit.

“I see you have not left everything in LA.”

You shook your head, the corners of your mouth curling upwards. “No, I…I did bring some cherished items with me.”

A soft noise, like the beginnings of a laugh, escaped his nose. “Very good to know.” He peeked at the signature Dior bow. “I have a feeling that you are aware of this, but you look exquisite.”

Your stomach tightened at his words. “You don’t look so awful yourself.”

Now he let himself laugh properly, head tilting to his side. “I would have ridiculed your vanity, chérie, had you not deserved to possess it.”

That had your cheeks burning. His gaze became harder to uphold. “Thank you for your invitation,” you then said, suddenly eager to pass the embarrassment to another poor victim. “Seungkwan here thought it a fraud at first.”

The said-man gasped, glaring daggers at you. Jeonghan raised his brows, casting his dancing eyes to him. “Did you, now?”

“It was nothing like that!” he immediately rebuked, but then he huffed out, realising that was not fully honest. “Well, I mean…you must understand, we haven’t spoken to you in so long, so it didn’t seem real…”

It was your turn to glare at your friend spewing rubbish, but the actor offered a sheepish expression. “You speak the truth, I’m afraid. It had been much too long.”

He watched you, guilt morphing in his smile. “Let’s not be strangers anymore.”

Catching your lower lip with your teeth, you wondered how to respond to him—to these simple words, and the true complexities underneath. Thankfully, you did not have to, when he turned to the crowds, gesturing to the empty table in the centre. “Come,” he said, offering his arm to you. “Let’s settle at my table. We have a good view of the dancers.”

You looked at Seungkwan before accepting, looping your hand upon Jeonghan’s arm. “Your friends…who did you invite?”

“I actually didn’t plan this.” He pointed to the man beside the stage, talking to the staff as he observed the cabaret dancers. “Joshua threw this party in my honour. He owns the Moulin Rouge today.”

You remembered the news—your once co-star turned businessman, buying this dying establishment in efforts to revive the cabaret spirit. It seemed to be working, though, because your agent recalled that Joshua Hong was more successful as an entertainer than an actor. To you, that news was horrendous, because the man was already so successful as a film star.

The piece of information that stung, however, was that this was not your ex’s doing—perhaps you were another name on a long list to throw an invite to, lest they complain.

He patted your hand with his free one. “Your invitation, however, was of my own accord.”

You did not know why that made you smug. “I couldn’t imagine anyone else inviting a ruined actress to their birthday party.”

He matched your mirth. “And an ex at that? I have out-shocked myself this time.”

Chuckling, you swiped at your black dress, bow swaying. “I’m ready.”

“Let us go then.”

Descending the steps, the film noir star led you to the centre of the theatre, the celebrities surrounding the three of you quieting their conversations. Your nerves instantly sparked to life, bubbling within your body, and you tightened your hold on Jeonghan’s arm as he walked through the crowd, unfazed by the shift in atmosphere. Thank the Lord that the music was still deafening, cabaret girls still dancing. 

Seungkwan, plastering professional smiles to anyone he caught sight of, leaned closer as he strode beside you. “I guess you weren’t lying after all.”

Eyes darting to each and every stunned expression, you whispered back, “I haven’t gone insane yet. These people might drive me to it though…”

The empty table came into view, a huge circle clothed in white, possibly every single bottle of alcohol in Paris settled atop its surface. Fine-dined food was served before every chair, the luxurious scent teasing your nose, almost distracting you from the scrutiny of everyone in the hall. 

By this time, the owner of Moulin Rouge had returned to this important table, ordering the waiters as he pulled out a chair, ready to sit. He then saw the three people who had arrived in front of him, and his eyes widened, instantly straightening himself. 

“Oh, wow!” he exclaimed, hands gesturing to the two new guests. “I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Joshua,” Jeonghan began, looking at you and your agent, “I see my friends need no introduction.”

“Why, of course not!” The strapping young man walked around the table, providing you with a full view of his black tuxedo, matching bow-tie stark against his white shirt. His hair had been sleekly gelled back, but a stray lock curled over his forehead, accentuating his already lush appearance. Reaching over to you, he kissed both of your cheeks—very Parisian of him, you noted—and pulled away, smiling. “My goodness, I can’t believe you’re here in front of me!”

Chuckling a little, you tried, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he countered. “No one has seen you since you left, you know. I was half-worried the press would report your sudden death!”

“Not if I have anything to do with that,” Seungkwan immediately said, crossing his arms. “I have spent too much time and energy on _____ to see her dead in our hotel room.”

Glaring at your agent, you faced the businessman. “As you can see, I am alive and well. Or at least alive and better.”

He picked up a flute of champagne from his seat. “I must admit,” he confessed, “I did not think you would show up.”

You tried not to avert his gaze. “I did not want to miss Jeonghan’s birthday,” you replied, and you swore you could feel the said-man’s lips tug upwards.

A knowing smile caught onto the businessman’s lips. “I see,” he murmured, sipping his drink. “That is good to hear, because Jeonghan was expecting you tonight.”

This time, you whirled to the accused. Had you not been quick, you would have missed the second-long glare he sent his friend before morphing into an impassive daze. But then he caught your slight surprise, and knew you had seen it. His explanation was as swift as his glower. “I knew you would not miss a night of drinking and dancing.”

“I mean…I have missed plenty since the scandal.”

“But you being here is a sign of progress!” Joshua chimed in. “You attending this party is another way of getting back into the industry, and I wish to help every step of the way.” He slapped his hands together. “Your first task should be enjoying this night as much as you can.”

He then turned to the two men. “Isn’t that right, gentlemen?”

Seungkwan scoffed, mumbling something akin to how you would rather be scandalised again than have some good fun. Jeonghan, on the other hand, was watching you, picking up his flute of wine. 

Raising his glass, he declared, “To betterment.”

Joshua followed suit, even louder. “To betterment!” He saw yours and Seungkwan’s empty hands as he drank his champagne, letting out a dissatisfied noise. “Oh, do excuse me!” Snapping his fingers, two waiters ushered to each of you, offering flutes of champagne. 

You took from one the tray, raising it slightly. “To betterment,” you muttered, drinking. 

“Now, you must excuse me for the second time,” Joshua began, a hand on your bare shoulder. “I have a few more guests to entertain.” Grabbing onto the chair that you had planned to sit upon, he pulled it out, gesturing for you to carry out your intentions. “In the meantime, do settle down! I will be back very soon.”

Obliging the owner, you gingerly settled yourself onto the ornate seating, careful not to ruin your gown in the process. You held a hand over your diamond necklace, positioning the largest in the middle once more before setting your flute upon the table. As you sat, so did the others, Jeonghan on your left, Seungkwan on your right. 

The three of you watched the anarchy of the cabaret dancers, raising their legs to their sky, earning shocked, drunken laughter as their underskirts were revealed, contrasted by the bright colours of their stockings. Their large feathers shimmied along to their movements, drooping over their shoulders. 

Your agent blinked back at their provocative dancing, downing another flute of alcohol. “Why didn’t anybody show me this whenever we were in Paris?”

You clicked your tongue. “Because you don’t like Paris. I always have to drag you out here.”

Seungkwan began to groan, furrowing his brows. “Because this city is a bore!” He pointed at you with his glass. “Seeing the Mona Lisa and the Eiffel Tower is only interesting the first three times. Then, they become what they truly are…a metal building and some average-looking woman who ought to smile more.”

Your scoff had a few people from neighbouring tables turning their heads. “That entire comparison is enough for me to fire you.”

“Oh, please!” He raised himself in his seat a little to catch a look at the actor beside you, silent in his seat as he observed the cabaret. “I know Jeonghan here will agree with me!”

The said-man slid his eyes to the tipsy agent. “Think again, Seungkwan,” you rebuked. “Jeonghan loves Paris more than I do. And that is saying something.”

The younger man looked to the elder in pleading, ready to forgo his career to prove you wrong. The film star could not help chuckling.

Usually, he would have played along, if only to tease you—but the subject of discussion was much too serious for him.

“I cannot help you today, dear Seungkwan,” he said, a nostalgic smile staining his lips as he swirled his wine. “Paris is like a home to me.”

“Hmph.” Another flute finished, smacking it upon the table. “You both are beginning to irritate me!” He inspected the room, finding acquaintances to mingle with. “Now, I am going to go and dance with a few friends,” he declared, standing from his chair. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Friends? Since when did you have friends here?”

“Unlike you, dear _____, I choose not to rot in my misery,” your agent chirped, sarcasm amplified from the drink, “I instead interact with other human beings. Works like a charm!”

“Have fun,” you called to him, as if you were not praying he tripped and broke a leg. Unfortunately, he would not be useful to you as a cripple, and so instead hoped he was lying about having friends in this city.

Once he disappeared into a crowd of actors, you sighed—you would have slumped your shoulders had it not been a risk to your dress.

“What’s the sigh for?”

You watched your only companion entertain his alleged friends. “I was hoping Seungkwan only knew me in this event.” A bitter scoff. “I suppose I should mingle too…make more of these friends.”

“You cannot blame an agent for having connections,” Jeonghan said, taking a sip of his wine. 

“I’m not blaming him,” you lied, exasperated with his pragmatism. You knew you were being unreasonable—he did not have to state it out loud. “I just…I don’t know anyone here.”

He caught onto your first dishonesty, but did not deign to comment on it. 

Instead, he voiced out a thought that lingered upon him. “You know me.”

You turned to him. “Yes…I suppose so.”

“Is that not enough?”

You turned over his question. As you observed him finishing his wine, catching the alcohol on his lips with his tongue, you wanted to tell him no.

No, because whatever joy you had received in his attentions, did it replace the heights of attention you gained from millions? He may have been Yoon Jeonghan, but even a single star reached the skies through the help of a mass of rays, retiring along with the sun.

Was a once beloved man’s affections greater than the affections of the world?

It took everything in your power not to answer him, but to your greatest fortunes, you were saved from breaking the man’s heart. Just that second, Joshua sauntered through the crowds, bringing another bottle of extremely expensive wine, setting it upon the empty space before you. 

“What are you two sitting around for?” He pointed to his dear friend, then waved at the chaos around them both. “I didn’t arrange the most glamorous birthday party in Paris for the birthday boy to not partake in it!”

“Ah, Shua…I will drink first,” the actor reassured him, accepting the businessman’s refills of his glass. “I want you to dance!”

“Fine!” Joshua’s eyes darted to you, and he held his hand out. “But only if _____ here will dance with me.”

You laughed awkwardly, waving off his advances. “No, please, I’ve only just arrived!” You tipped your head towards the many more renowned actresses, without any partners. “Go indulge your other co-stars. I will enjoy the cabaret show you and you alone have arranged.”

Grinning at your intelligent evasion, he consented, “I will oblige you this once, but only because you have appreciated my entertainment!” He pointed at the two of you, finger darting with each second. “Don’t think you both have rid of me!”

“Of course not!” you exclaimed back as he left your side, acutely aware that you would cause scandal once more if it meant you did not have to frolic in the crowds tonight. The drink was already messing with your mind, and you had to pause, lest you lost yourself to the smooth jazz of the theatre. 

Soon, with the young night beginning to age, almost everyone shot up from their seats, dancing along to the rhythm of the dancers. Every actor, designer, stylist and people from the industry partnered with each other, whirling to the boisterous music that filled the Moulin Rouge. 

The atmosphere almost made you forget about everything that plagued your spirits, clapping your hands to the beat of the music. Your agent had found himself in the arms of dozens of women, drinking and dabbling in the celebrity gossip. You even found yourself making light-hearted conversation with old acquaintances within neighbouring tables, though you admit you had to thank Jeonghan’s presence for such attraction towards you. Before, the lack of attention upon you would have stung greatly, but the man beside you had a strange talent of making one feel incredibly special in any place, at any hour. 

You feared the questions that were sure to come, especially when you had shown yourself in the film scene for the first time in a while, but the people surrounding you only expressed their contentment in your arrival. It was so strange, when it was people, once of your own station, simply asking about your wellbeing, rather than reporters and cameras, mics rammed down your throat to record your latest scandal. 

Aside from the inquiries, there were also offers to join in the merry waltzing. Many a time the owner of this theatre endeavoured to have you join the others, but you waved off his hands, daring him instead to dance with the cabaret girls. 

“You do Joshua a disservice,” Jeonghan chided light-heartedly, melodic voice louder to avoid being drowned out from the saxophones. “Refusing his hand for the fourth time.”

“I haven’t danced in a while!” you exclaimed over the noise. “I refuse to embarrass myself in front of hundreds.”

“Well, you must,” he insisted, slowly raising from his chair. “Because I wish to dance and you will join me.”

Your chortling was sudden. “Do keep dreaming, Jeonghan!” You waved your finger to the dozens of actresses, eyeing up the birthday boy. “Go offer your hand to a woman who will actually accept.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, a smirk ghosting his lips. “You refuse to indulge the wishes of a man on his birthday?” 

Scoffing, you downed your drink. “I am certain you will find many more to indulge your wishes beside me.”

You averted his gaze, watching your drunk agent dancing rather spectacularly with Jeonghan’s current co-star. You had to hand it to him—Seungkwan climbed up the social ladder quicker than you expected. 

“All right…”

Jeonghan sat back in his seat. Picking up a teaspoon from the table, he clinked it against his glass, catching the attention of the tables around you.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he declared. “Due to _____’s refusal, I will not be dancing with anyone this evening!”

Your eyes widened. 

Everyone within your radius turned their heads to your table. 

That was when the shouting began.

“What the—!”

“_____, don’t be a stick-in-the-mud!”

“Jeonghan, dance with us instead!”

The agitated exclamations, alternative offers chimed all around you two. Joshua, upon hearing this, squeezed past the growing crowd, hands on his hips at his old friend’s declaration.

“This will simply not do!” He then focused on you, gesturing to the seated man. “_____, you must dance with him.”

This was supported by a few cheers, urging you to accept. Seungkwan, who, too, heard the commotion, paused his dancing, the beautiful co-star right beside him. When he caught onto what everyone was complaining for, he snorted, shaking his head. “Save your voices, dear friends!” he yelled out. “_____ here would rather drop dead than listen to good sense!”

You would have shouted at him, but you could only gape at the man who caused the chaos.

“Come on, it’s just a dance!”

“It will only last a minute!”

“It’s his birthday, for God’s sake!”

His smirk, ghost-like before, sparked to life. 

Son of a bitch. 

“Fine!” you suddenly screeched, brows twisting in irritation. “I’ll dance, damn it!”

Your irritation grew when cheers rang around the theatre, which in turn had the music changing. The instruments jingled out even more livelier melodies, indicating that the birthday-boy was entering the space. Smoothly the actor left his seat, watching you reflect his action, albeit with more frustration. 

When you raised your head, your gaze fell on the outstretched hand.

With a melodramatic sigh, you took it.

Fingers wrapping around your hand, he led you to the emptier spaces, void of the tables as the crowds dispersed, resuming their swinging and waltzing. Once you both found a place, you looked at him, not pleased at all.

“Happy?” you jeered.

But then his hand slithered around your bare back, tugging you closer. With a hitched breath you were pulled in, your free hand instinctively grabbing his shoulder.

His eyes had you blinking back. 

“Exceptionally.”

You could only stare at him as he began to move.

The steps were short, snappy, matching the tune of the jazz which welcomed everyone’s ears. You dared not speak, too close to him, feeling his very breath fan your skin as he swung your enclasped hands along.

The ends of his hair tickled your hand on his shoulder, and you shifted, stumbling slightly into his hold. “Careful,” he whispered, and you felt your skin prickle at every corner. “Your step is a little shaky.”

“You think?” you asked sharply. When he chuckled, you realised that you did not think the sarcasm, but voiced it. 

You must really stop drinking. 

“You’re tipsy, aren’t you?” he inquired, squinting at you in amazement. “Goodness, you still can’t handle your drink?”

“As if you are not,” you countered, noticing the pauses in his step. “You dance better when you’re sober.”

“At least I dance at all.” He swirled you around, careful not to tarnish your dress. “Instead of shying away in a corner…away from everyone else.”

You gave him an irked glance. “You were with me in that corner, too.”

He returned it softly. “I wasn’t going to leave you alone, was I?”

“Hmm.”

He waited, watching your eyes stray to the dancers behind him, when he added a little amusement to his tone. “Plus, when you wear a dress like this…it should be a sin to hide yourself.”

A temporary look. “I thought you would forget.”

Scoffing, he mocked heartbreak as he pressed the enclasped hands to his chest. “You wounded me dearly with that, _____.” 

Turning you about, the music tuned louder as he closed his eyes. “It was 1949…spring time. Ah, yes, It was the after party of my first premier, and my co-stars and I were all dancing, just as we are now…”

His fingers held onto yours tighter. “And then you entered, wearing this…” 

He opened his eyes, gazing down at the details of your gown. “I swear to you, I forgot I had a movie coming out that night when I saw you in this dress.”

If he did not cease his words, then your face would have set alight. “All right, all right!” you exclaimed, tapping his shoulder. “You have proved yourself!” 

“Good. Don’t try and doubt me again.”

When you did not say anything, his lower lip jutted out ever so slightly. “Why did you wear it?” He slowed his movements. “You never wear something without making a statement.”

“It…” You tried to find the words. “It seemed fitting for tonight,” you said, forgetting your footsteps, the rhythm becoming second nature. 

A smile haunted your lips for a mere second. “Because I have not forgotten either.”

Jeonghan’s smile lingered on for you. 

The two of you did not speak much afterwards, basking in each other’s presences as the music progressed on. The cabaret dancers were growing wilder as midnight struck, enough time to become rowdy, furthering the chaos their movements had elicited. What was once whispered conversations, hesitant footsteps had familiarised into old friends as you two swirled and swirled, taking no heed of the people that stopped and stared at the centre. 

The actor’s hushed chuckles had become boisterous laughter in your arms, drumming his fingers against your back. You relished in each touch, heightened by the alcohol thrumming in your veins, yourself swaying your head to the beat. 

You were beginning to fly. 

After an eternity of being imprisoned, a certain someone had opened the locks to your cage, setting you free. You had grown wings of joy, of restlessness, and now you were flying in his hold, floating in the atmosphere of his eyes. Your heart was so light, drifting like the bubbles in your champagne glass, slipping past its rim, almost staining your dress and his suit multiple times. 

You tried to offer compensation for your carelessness, but he refused it outright, lips brushing against your ear. “Stain a thousand suits if it means you will come back…” his words were slow, stained with alcoholic truths. “If you’ll truly come back.”

Your laugh tickled his neck. “No one will have me,” you whispered, ironically sanguine for a fact so bleak. 

His pull had your shoulder touching his, all space near snuffed out. 

His plea had your hand in his turning limp. 

“Don’t say that, chérie…because it’s not true.”

Instinct had you retracting a little, staring at him. The ache in his eyes could have broken your heart. 

It must not have been that long, but it felt like forever and more, looking at him as if he had uttered a revolutionary speech, shared a secret of the universe. Time seemed to have slowed around you—perhaps an effect of the champagne, but you chose to be fantastical—the saxophones muted, the people quietened, and the lights dimmed.

This was a shot—a scene from the past, and at any moment there would be a director shouting action! in the corner, and it would all begin.

The fantasy would live on. Your downfall would become a non-existent event, and everything would be okay again.

It was in that exact, fated moment, when you heard a distant noise which stopped your vision.

A noise which was not of your dreams, but of your nightmares.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Jeonghan saw your eyes freeze over, body stilling under his hold. Frightened whispering spread at the back of the crowds, where the entrance was situated.

A distant actor’s exclamation had the rest scrambling.

“Who let the fucking press in here?!”

In an instant Joshua had made his way to the front, confusion and frustration mixing in his features. “What is going on?!” he demanded, the unforgettable camera flashing on the first layer of guests. “How the hell did they manage to sneak in here?!”

As the owner squeezed his way past, the rest of the guests groaned in agitation, even the cabaret dancers slowing down their enchanting routine. You did notice a damn thing, though, because the click! click! click! was ringing in your mind like the echoes of a gong, your entire body was constricting, your hand was tightening upon your partner’s, your breathing was going ragged—

“_____.”

The reporters were here. 

The media had found themselves a jackpot with Jeonghan’s private party, but the moment they caught you, it would be over. There would be nothing left as they will take your pictures, confirm your attendance in circles, drunk-dancing with your ex-boyfriend at his party, standing too close for comfort, and it would all be fucking over. 

“_____.”

This was something out of your nightmares. 

You could not move, refusing to listen to the voices beside you, unable to hear the commotion that had sprung up at the unexpected intrusion. Your vision had dazed out, mouth parted, tongue dry, and you could do nothing as your legs threatened to buckle. 

Only the voice of one man brought you out of your stupor.

“_____.”

A jolt coursed through you. 

“Come with me.”

He tugged on your enclasped hands, made to move in an opposite direction, but your body was still rooted, still amongst the crowds that went towards the flashing cameras. 

“I…” you could barely bring your voice to the surface—cowering down your throat, refusing to rise. “I-I…they’ll get me…”

“_____.”

His fingers tightened within yours. 

“Do you trust me?”

Again, the fated question.

How could you have answered him, when your tongue had abandoned its practice? How could you provide him with a response when your world was collapsing around you, the clicking of the cameras, the shouting of the reporters taking over your very senses?

But then his hands were upon your face, urging you to look at him. The intensity of his eyes could have brought you to your feet.

“Do you trust me, chérie?”

You parted your mouth.

Perhaps in another lifetime, you would have died underneath his fingertips. The press would have procured pictures of Jeonghan gaping at your decorated corpse, and his birthday would be remembered in the pages of celebrity gossip for the rest of his days.

But Jeonghan did not offer disaster—he did not show you further downfall in his path. What the man before you offered was an opportunity.

A chance to escape your doom.

You would have been the greatest fool in the world not to accept.

Especially when he looked so damned desperate to give it to you.

Your nod was barely a dip of your head.

“Help me, Jeonghan.”

That was all the man needed.

Letting go of you, he instead grabbed onto your hand, enveloping his slender fingers with yours. Looking over to the exits beside the stages, chaos heightening, he knew exactly where to go.

With one determined tug, he snapped you out of your spell.

His hand was your anchor as he led you against the current of actors, singers, all his celebrity friends. Slipping through with the slight-empty gaps, the two of you weaved your way to the furthest doors, the actor snapping it open with his free hand. Quickly he ushered you through thin hallways, a plethora of costumes, make-up kits, accessories spilling on the floor, hooked to the walls, but they were paid little mind. Once you both reached the final door, he resorted to kicking it open with his foot. No one was outside at the back of the huge establishment, only the Parisian sky, lighting the way to wherever your saviour was taking you.

Mumbling under his breath, he suddenly let an ah! escape as you saw his familiar sleek Bentley, camouflaged from the night. Perhaps the driver had seen you both hurrying to the car, because as Jeonghan clutched the door handle, it swiftly opened. You were lucky your gown was unharmed with the way you were ushered inside, gathering your velvet skirts to allow him space to settle beside you.

Clapping his hand against the driver’s seat, he voiced out orders in rapid, breathless French, you too overwhelmed to try and translate. Your heart was beating much too quickly, pounding in your ears from the swift exit. You had to wait a long time to settle, silent as the car revved to life, speeding out of the back entrance of the Moulin Rouge, away from the chaos. 

The roads were largely empty, thanks to the night’s growing age, the better population gone to sleep and forget the events of a rather uneventful evening.

For you, though, there would be no sleep.

For you were wide awake, looking out of the window, rooted in your position as you tried to calm your nerves. The shock had made you sober for those minutes of panic in the establishment, but as the ride kept driving to an unknown destination, you began to calm down, breathing deeply with every turn of the vehicle.

Perhaps it helped much that there was no conversation in the car, no questions about whether you were all right, whether you needed anything. 

The sole help you needed—which you received—was his hand, still entwined with your gloved one. 

You wondered whether his fingers were still warm, like how they were, ghosting along your back. 

You dared not glance at him, in case your question would show on your face. 

The roads began to look more familiar, you recognising where he was taking you. The statue of the general towered over your vision once more, and the car slowed to a stop.

Without the sounds of the engine, the silence had become much louder. 

The actor decided to break it first.

“We’re here.”

Right.

You nodded, albeit absent-mindedly.

He turned his head to the hotel, opposite his side, and opened the door.

Your hand and his were still intertwined. 

With a soft tug, he brought you out of the car, taking great care of your dress as it fell out in swaying folds from the seat. Snapping the door shut behind you, he bid his chauffeur to wait.

Taking a second-long glimpse at the Ritz, he then caught your unsettled gaze. “I will go back to the party…apologise to Shua for my hasty exit, and let Seungkwan know that you’re safe.”

He made to turn.

Your hand refused to let him go.

Feeling the tug of your fingers stopping his return, he faced you again, an inquisitive look upon his features.

You slipped out a request.

“Stay.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widened.

Swallowing hard, you looked down at your hands, continuing because the silence was unbearable. “I know this is a bit sudden…I understand that, but I hate how the night turned out and…I don’t know, I…” 

Your free hand gestured towards the hotel. “I have wine in my room. It’s not much, but…” You glanced up at him, trying to muster a little earnestness. “I would hate that your birthday ended with you running away…helping me run away.”

You watched him raise his brows, and you fought the urge to avoid his scrutiny. You could tell he was uncertain, with the way he pressed his lips together, deep in thought. His hair swayed gently in the late night breeze, the sides of his fringe half-covering his vision, and you could only wait as he weighed in the cons of your invitation.

Because now you realised it was a bad idea, and maybe you were still drunk—you had never made a good decision in your life when your mind was disarrayed with alcohol.

But then he answered you, and your decision proved to be perfect.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind some more wine.”

Sober you would not have smiled so quickly at his answer.

Sober Jeonghan just might have—but he, too, was in a state much like yours.

Turning, he updated his chauffeur with new instructions, and this time you listened; the latter was urged to drive back to Moulin Rouge, where he would inform Joshua and Seungkwan of his and your whereabouts. Both of you watched the sleek black Bentley drive away, fading away into the Parisian roads.

The film noir star turned to you. He raised your hand in his. 

“Lead the way, then.”

With your spirits higher than they had been the entire night, you obliged him, walking to the entrance. Pushing the doors open, the both of you tried to avoid showing your faces, but it was fortunate enough that no one was around to catch you both.

The journey to your room was a short one, but you still took your time, making sure your gown did not make you stumble. Your company’s hand was much needed, because you were a little unsteady, gloved hands grabbing onto walls, clutching your doorknob tighter than usual. 

Unlocking the door with your free hand, you pushed it open, entering first. You pulled him inside, and he regarded his surroundings. The mess in your room did not clean itself up in your absence, and you had to toss some clothes closer to your wardrobe with your heel, where they had made a pile next to your bed. “I was in a hurry,” you reasoned, but you could tell he did not believe you in the slightest. 

“Here,” you said, pointing to the chairs beside the window. “Sit over there.”

Obeying you, he crossed the distance, only to be stopped once more by your grasp. This time, he had to object. “Your hand,” he voiced out, tugging on the hold. “You’re going to have to let go of me.”

It was then you noticed truly how long you had been holding onto him. 

Slowly, you unravelled your fingers from him, he settling into one of the chairs. You did not like how empty your hand became, despite the gloves masking any real touches. 

“Missing my touch already?” you heard his feline question, and you realised you had been staring at your hand, flexing and unflexing. 

Cheeks heating, you got out, “Never!” before turning your back on him. Searching for your secret bottles, you reached down next to the bed, underneath the side-table. They were well-hidden in the past, when your agent would scour your surroundings to take them from you. Grabbing one of the four, you read the label, satisfied with the quality. 

Screwing open the cap, you looked around for any fresh glasses. “Let me phone up room service.” Walking over to the dainty, circular table in front of him, you brought the bottle down. “There’s nothing to pour this in.”

“No, don’t fret yourself. We can drink from the bottle.”

“Oh.” You looked down at your dress, suddenly feeling much too formal. “I’ll be with you in a minute, then,” you began, gesturing to the bathroom. “I need to get out of this—”

“_____.”

You paused.

He jerked his head towards the empty chair. “Don’t take that dress off. Not while I’m here.”

Your hands at your sides went limp. All you could say again was, “Oh.”

A raised brow. “What are you ohing for? Did you not wear it for me?” He flicked the bottle cap off the bottle, watching your fluster. “At least let me enjoy the sight till I leave.”

You would have hoped he would not see your unease, reflexively touching the back of your neck. Quickly you settled in your chair, waiting for him to take the first sip. 

When he was done, he stretched his arm, enough for the bottle to reach your fingers. Receiving it, you decided to take a hearty chug. “My goodness,” he commented, ushering you to return the bottle. “Perhaps we should return to the party. At least we won’t run out of wine there.”

You smacked your lips together, sticking slightly from the alcohol. “I feel awful about that, by the way.” You locked your hands together upon your lap. “Making you run away from your own birthday.” 

“Don’t worry yourself,” he assured you, “The moment those journalists crashed the place, I was going to leave.” A second swig of the bottle. “I wager the party’s dispersed by now.”

“The fucking press,” you cursed low, “Ruining a perfectly good evening.”

That had the actor cocking his head. “Perfectly good evening, you say?” he repeated. “The _____, enjoying herself out of her hotel room? Interacting with others, and relishing the attention?”

“That is not true!” you protested, snatching the bottle from him. “It was not as if I made any proper conversation with anyone there.”

“Well that was because you spent all your precious conversation on me.”

“Don’t make me regret leaving this hotel,” you warned, earning a chuckle from him. “Besides…I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.”

This time, you enjoyed the thrum the wine brought to your senses. “You know something funny?” He lifted his brows, urging you to go on. “I didn’t even give you a birthday present.” You brought the bottle upon the table, frowning. “Well, I suppose that is not funny, more rude, but…”

Jeonghan took a longer swig of the wine than usual. He took his lower lip between his teeth, taking in the cherry-coloured residue. “Your company was what I wished for…not your gifts.”

Your breath paused at that comment.

“I…I see.”

He decided to take another turn, gulping down the alcohol. He smacked it down on the table’s surface, groaning through his nose. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

“Jeonghan.”

Sliding the bottle to you once more, he hummed. “Yes?”

You wondered whether you should ask the question that lingered on your tongue. 

Glancing down at your hands, you knitted your brows. “Um…how did you manage…you know…when you were struggling back then?”

An uneasy pause. “In what sense?”

“Well…” Smoothing out the fabric of your gloves, you tried to continue. “I mean, you went through this once, right? You know…during our….”

A harsh hum. “Yes, I remember.” 

A harsher intake of breath, which had you grabbing the wine bottle. His voice entertained your ears as you drank. “I won’t lie to you, it was difficult…not everyone tasted success as quickly as you did.”

Was that meant to sting? Perhaps it was not his intention, but you still felt the bite. “I suppose what helped was that once you’re at rock bottom…there is no other way but up.” He folded his leg over the other, crossing his arms. “The one thing that kept me going was that I knew it would get better…thankfully, it did.”

“But what did you do?” you pressed. “What did you do which changed everything?”

He pretended to ponder, but his answer came to him as instant as the million clicks of the Moulin Rouge cameras.

“I stopped hiding, _____.”

You could not avoid him any longer.

“Not that I ever really went anywhere, but…” He shook his head slowly, as if acknowledging the events of the past. “Yes, I…never left. I stayed, and I fought for a place in the industry. I went to hundreds of auditions, knowing what the papers were saying about me.”

The word slipped out before you could stop.

“Why?”

He held you captive in his stare for a minute, releasing his folded arms. Sensing his next moves, you gave him the bottle. This time was the longest swig before he held it to his chest. 

“Because I deserved it. Because I knew I deserved better than what I was given. Nobody should dictate my fate.”

The grave earnestness of his gaze made you unable to respond. “And nobody should dictate yours either.”

Maybe if you were sound of mind, you would have accepted defeat. Listened to the ends of his declaration, and basked in the late-night silence.

However, something in you had to confess your true feelings.

“I want everything back to normal.”

Your vision blurred slightly. “I just want to act again…I didn’t realise how much I missed it…” You took the bottle, the contents less than half. “You say that I cannot let people dictate my fate. Acting is what I want. But these people are stopping me.”

You gulped down the alcohol, helping little to soothe your nerves. “I want to be in front of the cameras, and become another person entirely. Is that even normal?” A scoff. “I mean, I am an actress, but…recently the urge to be someone I’m not is so tempting.” Another swig. “Maybe if I could just become my character in some long-ago comedy, some flighty heroine out of my previous romance…maybe then I will not be so hated. Maybe then I can live someone else’s destiny.”

Your hands swirled the wine which was left, fingers tightening around the neck. “People don’t fall in love with the actor. They fall in love with the character. People never truly loved me, Jeonghan, they loved what I created for them. Call me sick and twisted, but I want to be loved like that again.”

The man listened, feeling his chest tighten at your confession. He dared not say a word, though, lest you stopped—lest you hid yourself from him.

“I want to be loved again, Jeonghan. So what if it isn’t real? It was real to me.” A ragged sigh escaped your lips. “Alas, these people do not want me anymore…and this is what I have to accept. That is my fate.”

As you made your tongue rest from your rambling, you did not notice Jeonghan furrow his delicate brows, frowning at the words which rested within the room. 

He could not have this be your resolution.

“_____.”

You did not respond, drinking. 

“You can be loved again…if you just accept it.”

Smacking your lips together, you brought the bottle his way. “Hmm.” 

You were tired—the wine had furthered your daze, and you knew if you took in another drop you would lose your senses. That could not happen; not when your ex-lover was seated opposite you, as drunk as you were, looking at you just as he used to all those years ago. That alone was amplifying your nerves. 

His voice was akin to the jazz that played at Moulin Rouge. “You want to know something?”

A lift of your chin. “What?”

Unfolding his leg, he leaned in, spreading his legs apart. “I didn’t love you for who you were on television…all those years back.”

You could not look away from his heavy-lidded eyes. “I fell for who you truly were. None of those roles that you played so well, none of those scripted interviews…nothing of that superficial nonsense. 

“I loved you. Only you.”

You felt the city go silent.

The cars that may have rushed past distantly had been quietened, the music from other rooms ceasing to play. Even the stars paused their twinkling, deathly still as they watched through your window the scene that awaited the two of you.

Your mouth parted.

It was all too much.

Suddenly, it was too much, too quickly—this man, seated before you, drinking wine with you, listening to you ramble as drunkards do. It was all too much. Too good, too beautiful, too precious. 

“Fuck.”

You shot up from your seat, chest rising up and down, needing to breathe in the room’s oxygen before you collapsed. “I must…” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I must get more wine.”

He watched you stumble to your bedside again, he, too, standing. “Wait—”

“No!” you exclaimed, too instantly as you looked over your shoulder. “Just…wait. Stay where you are.”

You felt him stay put behind you—his eyes never left your back, though, as you continued your shaky way to the side table. Once again you knelt down, taking hold of the second bottle. 

All you had to do now was get up. 

Stand on your two feet, and face the history residing in your ex’s eyes.

I loved you. Only you.

Brows drawing together, you took a deep breath. Trying to calm your nerves.

It did not work in the slightest. 

Especially when your vision was blurring, and when you realised there were tears forming, there was no chance in the world that you could face him.

His voice slipped into your head.

“_____.”

You could not take it.

There was no leash to your tongue anymore. The words that had been bubbling to the surface could have no restraint—not when he said your name with a tenderness that you had been aching for years. 

So, as you slumped to the floor, bottle in hand—your back to the man who you owed too much—you blamed the alcohol in your veins as you exposed yourself.

“I missed you, Jeonghan.”

There.

There it was.

Out in the open, with nothing to undo it.

The actor, on the other hand, would have rather died than have you reverse such a declaration.

I missed you, Jeonghan.

His name on your lips set something alight in him.

He wondered whether he had dreamt up your confession.

You were both so drunk—he had seen you delude yourself, create stories in a booze-inflicted daze, and he would play along, because he could not be the person to shatter your illusion.

But now the roles were reversed. He must be dreaming, conjuring this fantasy.

It was his doubts that fuelled his question.

“What…what did you just say?”

He waited.

Waited for you as you gathered every atom of strength in rising, velvet skirts unfolding as you stood, unopened bottle in your gloved hand.

He waited as you gulped down the last of your bravado, slowly turning to face him—the shock which smacked his beautiful features had you spluttering your words again.

“I-I…I really missed you.” 

Jeonghan still had trouble believing.

Perhaps he finally understood the extent of your alcoholic troubles. Perhaps delirium was a symptom, but his fantasies were being extra cruel to him tonight.

So he took a hesitant step—two, three steps towards you. Each foot closer was hesitant, gentle, as if he was stepping on glass, terrified the world beneath him would shatter. You dared not move, fearful of your senses, as unpredictable as the emotions behind the man’s face.

When his shoes caressed the ends of your gown, he stopped himself. One more step, and he could be a hair’s length from you, 

He cocked his head, chest tightening. “Really?” he got out, quiet as the city beyond you.

You could barely breathe, but you made yourself speak—it was now or never. 

“So much.”

The actor’s curse was low—grating against his teeth.

This time, he allowed his gaze to dart over your features—the glazed, frantic eyes, the taut brows, anticipating his response. He wandered down to your lips, and could not help settling there for a moment. If he stepped a little closer he could taste the wine-stained confessions that settled on your mouth. The very thought had his insides singing. 

His heavy stare had your stomach surging. “Jeonghan,” you whispered. 

His hands flexed and unflexed, aching to reach out—more so when you said his name.

“I really want to kiss you, chérie.”

Your brows twitched upward. Instinctively, your eyes rooted to his lips, his tongue running across the bottom. You had half a mind to follow the trail with your own mouth.

“What’s stopping you?”

And as he took in your words, the true implications behind them—as his eyes locked with yours for a second, you knew then and there the answer to your question.

The answer, which Jeonghan bestowed as he closed the final distance. 

Your ex-lover wasted no time as he held your face in his shaking hands and enveloped his lips with yours. 

It was as if the entire universe sighed in relief. 

Although your lips had not touched his for years, the way they moved harmoniously with his would have made it impossible to prove such a claim. It was as if you were welcoming back a long lost friend from the wilderness, greeting an ancient connection, strayed from the threads of time. It was second nature to kiss him back, holding onto the lapels of his blazer as you pulled him closer. 

It was like the beginning of the decade once more, on similar, half-drunk nights like this when this exact dream of a man swooped you into midnight corners and stole the breath from your lungs. These memories began to unravel the more his mouth encircled yours, teasing you open, aching to explore you.

He repeated his antics of years ago, rendering you breathless. You did not pull away, holding onto his mouth as if he would leave you forever. His hands travelled down, resting upon the sides of your neck, caressing your skin, as he pulled away to your utter misfortune.

You gasped for air, only able to stand due to the iron grip on his blazer. “…missed you, Jeonghan,” you said once more, the soft confession fanning his lips, but you did not realise it. Everything was becoming a little blurred—a haze of events linking and unlinking, with the sole connection being the man you missed. 

Even though he heard you before, his gaze still softened. His thumb ran slowly along the wet seam of your lips, and your patience began to run thin. “I am…so glad you said that, chérie.”

And once more he was upon you, this time leading you further back until your velvet dress bunched at the side of the bed. His mouth never ceased its labour as he sat you upon the tousled sheets, as disarrayed as you as your hands travelled to his hair—your gloves robbed you of the feeling of his locks, as soft as the fabric covering your fingers. 

When he felt the silk of your gloves, he broke away from you, stunning to you a dumbfounded silence. He held your wrists, gently pulling you away from his raven hair, stroking the silk of your covering. “I want…” he was slowing his words, as if tasting each request that throbbed within his soul. “Off…I want this off…”

His words had you obliging him instantly. With your shaking hand—a trait he had noticed, and relished in—you slowly pinched the tips of the fingers, tugging back the silk till the glove was off. You flexed your now-naked fingers, almost embarrassed to see the man regard them as if you had stripped yourself bare before him. You would have done the second had his own aching hands not gotten your covered arm.

Jeonghan’s fingers were gentle, albeit a little clumsy, even as he tried to razor in his clouded focus upon the white silk. Slowly, but surely, he pulled on the fabric, and his eyes savoured the glove, smoothly sliding off your arm. 

Your skin was revealed underneath the moonlight, and you felt the actor’s tremble of his fingers as they enveloped one of your hands, raising it to his lips. His mouth was warm as he kissed your palm, finally able to revel in the warmth of your touch. The action was so intimate you had to say something, anything, but before you could even open your mouth, his heavy stare raised to yours, and had you falling completely silent.

His eyes darted upon your Dior gown, completely without shame as he drank in the details of the dress, the diamonds, and how you carried the entire look—the moment you had stepped into Moulin Rouge, and now, in front of him, tousled with your stained lipstick, and a frantic stare rooted to him.

His gaze could have set you on fire as he held both of your hands, fingers never stopping their climb upward. 

“You look…truly divine in that dress.”

This time, you blamed the alcohol for the truth that escaped you as his hands held your face, urging you closer to him once more. 

“I wore it just for you.”

That was enough for him to curve the corners of his lip upward—even the devil could not feign the drunk pride that exuded from his smile. 

“I know, chérie…I know.”

And he dove straight back in.

This time, in the midst of his heated, smug kisses, you felt his tongue teasing along your lips, and your soul nearly abandoned ship. You could not open up fast enough, letting him slide inside, taste the wine that stained your own tongue. Your groans were broken as he swirled his tongue with yours, sucking slightly on it with his mouth, a dull throbbing inside of you which had not felt such pleasure in such a long time. They did not stop as he continued, smiling against your mouth.  

You were so wrapped up in him, enveloping him in your arms, even more desirable since you truly felt his hair underneath your fingertips. His locks were silkier than your gloves, softer than the velvet of your dress. There was no room for space between you two, you half in his lap with every inch closer you had crept in between heated touches. You wanted him all over you, more so when, with a carnal desperation, he pushed you further into the sheets. Breaking away from your mouth, he planted open-mouthed kisses upon your jaw, trailing slowly down. 

His fingers crept upon your waist, trying to feel you under this dress, trying so ardently to break you out of it. You could not believe that you would have damned your precious Dior to bare yourself before him, broken your diamond necklace to allow him better access upon your neck. The delirium caused by the alcohol morphed into delirium caused by his hands, his mouth, his incoherent mumblings, praising you, relishing you. 

At this point, even you could not contain the voices of pleasure that slipped out of you, sighing softly at every touch of his lips upon your skin. “Jeonghan…” you whispered out, feeling an ache around your core. “Jeonghan, please—”

The said actor let out a soft moan at your pleading. “Please what?” Another kiss planted upon your neck. “What do you want?”

“I…” 

You! 

You! you wanted to say, because it was the absolute, unadulterated truth. You wanted him near you, on you, fuck, inside you. You wanted him desperately, more than all the riches you had craved for in your youth—perhaps, deep inside, you would have forgiven the loss of your fame if it meant you could be wrapped around your ex-lover forever. 

Yet the alcohol had your words all jumbled, mind all dishevelled. Your eyes could not even decipher the full clarity of his beauty before you, and you blinked back, trying to focus on his face. In the corner of your mind, fatigue began to appear.

But you remained stubborn. Held onto whatever part of his you could latch on to and whimpered, “I want you, Jeonghan.”

You took in the wildfire of lust that set ablaze in his eyes.

You could have jumped with joy.

Colliding against each other once more, you damned your concerns as you revelled in the actor’s hands, swiping up the heavy folds of your gown till your legs were exposed, the velvet bunching at your waist. He offered rest to your love-bitten throat, taking a peak at the black lingerie that was revealed, and his jaw going slack had you trying to close your legs in sheer embarrassment.

His hand upon your thigh stopped you. “Come on, mon ange,” he began, spreading your legs further apart. “Why be shy with me now?”

When you tried to avert his penetrating stare, his two fingers fell to your chin, turning you to him. “You said you wanted me, no?”

God. You decided to go limp underneath his touch, and he let out a rasping chuckle, settling between your legs. He leaned into you, his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Then have me,” he whispered. 

Fuck.

You were never refusing his order.

Jeonghan was about to slip past your slick underthings, take your lips with his own, ruin and salvage you upon the bed with no one but the stars watching.

That was when the loudest knocking you had ever heard thundered on the hotel door.

“_____! PLEASE TELL ME YOU ARE INSIDE!”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your sockets, the actor’s head whipping to the entrance. 

“JESUS, _____, YOU BETTER NOT BE PASSED OUT ON SOME RANDOM STREET—!”

“Son of a bitch,” you got out, your fingers sagging down to the blazer. 

“Is that…” Jeonghan’s brows knitted in thought. “Seungkwan?”

The deafening knocking continued, pounding your head into aching. “Maybe if we stay quiet he will leave,” you mumbled. You, however, were well aware of the foolishness of such a suggestion.

The agent’s rapping only increased in tempo. 

“I HAVE A FEELING YOU ARE IN THERE! IGNORING ME!”

A dire shame that your friend knew you so well.

“Perhaps we should let him in.” You were met with a defeated stare, slight amusement staining his vision. “I fear he will kick the door down, and the Ritz staff will finally have a reason to throw you out.”

You groaned. “Jeonghan!” 

“JEONGHAN?! DO I SOUND LIKE FUCKING JEONGHAN TO YOU…In retrospect, that should be taken as a compliment…”

“Damn it,” you hissed, “Bastard heard me.”

When the beautiful, half-drunk man began to ease himself off you, his hands furthering from your lingerie, all the drowsiness that you had pent up completely vanished.

You were going to murder Seungkwan.

Heaving off of the bed, head pounding harder than the knocks on the door, you grabbed your skirts, thundering to the entrance of your hotel room.

Twisting the knob, you thrust open the door, finding your agent’s raised fist, ready to tear down the wood. 

He caught sight of your dishevelled appearance, and twisted his lips in a frown.

“What the hell took you so long!” he began shouting already, stepping past you and going inside. “I was beginning to think you had died—!”

He stopped—stared at your guest, who was as dishevelled as you were—noticed the lipstick stains on his usual coral mouth, glistening. Then, he whipped his head to you, noticing how your mouth was more swollen—as if it had been softly bitten. 

Seungkwan slapped his hands to his mouth.

“Oh, stop it!” you exclaimed, suddenly wishing the roof would fall on your head. 

The film noir star walked closer to the two, fixing his blazer. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he said, raking his slender fingers through his hair. “We became a little…distracted.”

Your face burned hotter than the summer sun. “No, no! I need no apologies!” the agent immediately countered, raising his hands in surrender. “In fact, let me apologise for, um…stopping you both!”

“Oh, Jesus!” You pointed at the door. “Leave us already!”

“No, _____, it is alright,” Jeonghan assured you, glancing at the clock. “I fear I must leave anyway. If Seungkwan has just arrived back, then Joshua is probably still at Moulin Rouge, taking care of the press. I must let him know that you and I are fine.”

But you were glaring so violently at your friend that he could have squirmed. “No, no, Jeonghan, do not leave on my behalf! I will return to my room this instant!” 

He hurried to the doorway, turning back only to you. The implications of his scrutiny were clear. 

We will be talking about this.

“I must apologise again, Jeonghan, truly!” he called out once more, the tips of his ears turning crimson. “You both…carry on with whatever you were doing!”

Before you could cuss him out for such a suggestion, he was out of the room, cursing under his breath loud enough for the two of you to hear. 

At least it was not just yourself, experiencing those exact feelings. 

The room was much quieter—too quiet for you, now that you felt his presence near you, undisturbed by any more nosy agents. 

You bid yourself to speak. “So…”

His stare was upon you. “So.”

“You, um…are you really going back to see Joshua?”

He nodded, albeit more hesitantly. “Yes, I…I suppose I must show my face to the press or they will tear Joshua’s party to bits.”

“I see.”

You were exhausted. Even at that moment, when you finally turned your head to return his gaze, you knew that you were minutes away from collapsing to the floor. You had barely any strength left, the alcohol settled and refusing to leave your system. You could tell Jeonghan felt the same—with the way his cheeks flushed, his eyes darting to every feature of your face, your tousled dress. 

Even with the barrier of your slowly dying consciousness, you tried one last time to make him stay.

“Will you not finish what you started?”

The actor, instead of his usual, composed smile, grinned at you, a little more lopsided than he usually exposed. Even in his fatigued stupor, he could catch your incorrect taunt. 

He stepped closer to you. Close enough to reach out and take you in his arms should he wish it.

“Was it really me who started this, chérie?”

No—of course he was not.

“Besides…”

His hands reached out, holding your face in utmost tenderness.

“I cannot have you when we’re both like this.”

Your confusion had him explaining. “Look at us…we’re both so tired, and drunk, and…I tend to forget things if I take a glass too much at a party.” His thumbs stroked your cheeks. “I fear I might forget moments of tonight, too.”

You could not believe how that did not bother you. “So?” you asked quietly, holding onto his wrists. 

“So…I cannot accept it.”

“Why?”

There, at that moment, your ex-lover’s eyes darkened, ever so slightly. 

“Because I want you and I to be sober when I have you…I want you to remember my hands on your body, my tongue all over your skin.” His thumb inched closer to the corner of your mouth. “I want you to remember my fingers slipping between your thighs, one by one till you’ll beg me to replace them with my cock.”

Jeonghan’s finger ran along your spit-slick lips. “God, chérie, I need you to remember the exact moment when I’ll slide inside you, and make you beg for release.”

The words alone had a small whimper escaping your mouth. 

“Right now, we are both drunk beyond relief.” A small sigh left him, fanning your lips. “You will not even recall this conversation, let alone how much I want to fuck you.” 

He delighted at your reaction, your legs like soft jelly. “I cannot have that at all.”

If he was expecting you to respond, he was sorely mistaken.

All you could do was gape at him, drinking in the words that have left his mouth.

Your silence allowed him to pull away, slowly making his way to the door. 

He was nearly out of your room when you finally found your voice. 

“When will I see you again?”

He looked over his shoulder.

You hoped with all your heart that you would remember the promise in his smile. “Sooner than you think…if you will allow it.”

You returned his mirth. “Good.”

And that was all you needed—he, too, sensed it, and bid you a sweet, slurred adieu before leaving the premises. 

As you closed the door after him, trudging back to your bed, you caught sight of your silk gloves, settled on the sheets. 

Instinctively, you bit your lip. 

The actor was mistaken.

Because no matter how drunk you would have been, even more so than you were now, you would not be able to forget it had he crossed the final boundaries.

You would have remembered every detail he said you would not.

And although, in any normal circumstance, your memory had never served you well, at least it excelled in one matter.

You knew that, at the end of the day, Yoon Jeonghan could never be forgotten.

Especially by you.

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 11TH OCTOBER,1954

YOON JEONGHAN ONCE AGAIN DOMINATES ALL THE PRESS TOURS FOR NEW MOVIE!

You know it, readers! Our favourite superstar, Yoon Jeonghan, once again vows viewers and fans from all around the world with an exclusive new radio interview with French talk-show host Jean d’Arcy. He exposes a few details about his upcoming movie, his budding friendships with his co-stars, and charms the listeners with his witty answers! 

Many from the audience noticed how happy he has been ever since he stepped foot in Paris. He was all-smiles at the press shoot, and as well as lighting up the radio station during the interview with his joyous attitude. We at France-Soir are delighted to know that our city has brought such elation to the actor, but there is speculation that a romance may be in the works.

That’s right, readers! 

What we only need to find out is who managed to snag the most eligible celebrity in the world?

THE WEEK THAT WENT AFTER THAT FATED NIGHT WAS INDESCRIBABLE.

If there truly was a Lord that rested beyond the clouds of this atmosphere, then you would have very well fell to your knees and thanked Him for your reversal of fortune. It was as if the deities that controlled your life decided to cease their prejudices against you, and finally give you a taste of joy.

Never in your wildest fantasies did you think you would be fooling around with your ex-lover in your favourite place. Hell, if you got told that you would speak to Jeonghan again a month back, then you would have laughed at the messenger of such news and wished them the same misery you went through in your first weeks here. 

It was just so fun—away from prying eyes, hidden from the cameras. The two of you conducted secret meetings between his press tours, sneaking away from dinners to conjoin in moonlit corners, simply because the thrill of secrecy ignited the desire the two of you shared. What helped such stealthy rendezvous were the hours of your meetings—always after midnight, always leaving before the sun caught you both red-handed in each other’s arms.

Jeonghan did question the strange timings at the beginning, already certain of your answer. You tried to wave away his questions, but the beautiful bastard was persuasive. In the end, you confided your fear of being captured by the press, which confused him even further.

“Why are you so scared of the reporters catching you with me?” he had asked you one night, as the two of you shared a cigarette underneath the Arc de Triomphe. “If anything, won’t it help you if you’re seen with me?”

Your harsh chortling had him handing the cigarette to you instantly. You took a long drag, puffing out the smoke. “You may be untouchable, but I most certainly am not.” Tipping the ashes upon the pavement, you presented it. “My reputation is infectious, Jeonghan. The press would drag you down to my level.”

The man clicked his tongue, inhaling the tobacco. “Stop speaking about yourself like that,” he chided, “One scandal does not cause ruination.”

“I am right here,” you countered, your hands waving to your figure. “Ruined because of one scandal.”

“Well…” The corner of his lips quirked upward. “You haven’t had just one scandal.”

Your withering glare had him chuckling, smoke curling from his mouth. “No need to rub it in,” you muttered, taking the cigarette from him. 

“I’m only thinking of solutions here, darling.” He watched you lean against the stone monument. “You said you missed acting, no?”

You nodded, taking a drag. “Then have you responded to any casting calls recently?” he asked you.

Your smile was weak—weaker when the actor tutted. “I am trying, I promise!”

“Are you?” He received the cigarette once more. “I cannot say for the day calls, but I can confirm you haven’t attended any night auditions.”

“I have you to blame for that,” you mumbled, “Wasting my nights.”

The quirked brow that welcomed you had your stomach fluttering. “Wasting your nights, am I?” he repeated, the sultry baritone furthering your nerves. “Perhaps I should inform those journalists of my location…”

“You wouldn’t dare!” you immediately snapped, which had the man grinning “You know what, maybe it is time to put an end to these meetings!”

Jeonghan’s malicious stare only enhanced his amusement. “As you wish, mon ange,” he purred, taking a last drag before dropping the butt of the cigarette to the pavement, snuffing it out with his boot. “I will find some other disgraced actress to entertain at this hour.”

The scoff that escaped your mouth had him unable to contain his laughter. “Fine! But you won’t find a better disgraced actress than me, I can tell you that!”

You were so caught up in your petty temper that you did not notice your ex stepping closer, arms reaching out. When his hands slithered about your sides, pulling you closer, you blinked back to find him gazing down at you, his smirk softening. 

His locks nearly caressed your cheeks. “You know I want no other, right?”

You rolled your eyes at him, but the battle of restraining a smile was bound for defeat. “Of course,” you said, sarcasm clear in your voice. 

“Plus,” he added, drumming his fingers upon your clothes, smirk morphing once more, “After fooling around with the most disgraced actress in Hollywood, how could I seek scandal somewhere else?”

Your smile then became a flash of teeth. His laughter resonated around the Arc as you pushed him from you, crossing your arms as you seethed at him. “Ass,” you could only say, because everything else merely accentuated his delight.

Even that night ended on a sweeter note, despite Jeonghan’s attempts to get you to audition more frequently. At first, you thought that your greatest nightmare—another Seungkwan—had come alive, but at least he still retained the incessant pestering that only your agent had mastered so irritatingly well.

The rest of the week had managed to sail smoothly enough. 

Although you had still not seen Jeonghan as much as you would have liked, a part of you was delighted that he had not changed at all. With every conversation, every taunt, you were reminded of the glory days—when you two had first entered the relationship in your late teens, both novices in the acting field, and one look at him confirmed your suspicions of his genuinity. Of course he had matured—five years does tend to shift one’s youth—but even with that time between you two, his youth had not disappeared. It was almost masked beneath his charismatic demeanour, the image he conveyed to the public.

At least, with you, he shared a bit of himself.

With his premiere creeping closer upon him, he had to prepare, so spent a few less evenings with you than you had anticipated. You could not blame him, obviously, for investing that time in his upcoming movie, but a part of you wished that you could have been involved. Not that you needed to participate in his project, but hearing him excitedly recite the future events always had you biting the inside of your cheek, swallowing down the slight tinge of jealousy that stains your tongue.

It made you want to invest in yourself.

Was it not Jeonghan’s words, that you should not let others dictate your destiny? 

Yes, you were still doubtful of such a powerful declaration, but being in his presence made you want to try.

And trying, at this stage, was more than enough.

So, carrying out your ex’s suggestion, you let Seungkwan know of your new dedications, and urged him to find more auditions in the city. The man could not believe your changed attitude, but when he began to poke fun at it, you sent him a glare so withering he shivered out of your hotel room.

Despite your agent being the greatest son of a bitch known to man, he was damned good at his job—within the week, he disclosed to you information that had your jaw falling to the floor.

“A Choi Seungcheol film?!”

Seungkwan lifted his chin in pride, smirking in self-satisfaction. “Let’s say your agent has not lost his lustre yet. I still have my connections.”

“I must say, I’m impressed.” You waved your hands at him, sizing him up. “All this time, I wondered whether I had wasted my money on you.”

His expressive vanity faltered. “That better be a bad joke, _____,” he jeered, handing you the documents relating to the role. “The script has not been fully finalised, but Seungcheol’s assistant informed me that it’s very hush-hush at the moment.”

Taking the papers, you gave them a skim-over. “Why are they doing the auditions in Paris?”

“They said something about wanting to film the first locations in the city. I think the movie is set here.”

That had your excitement increasing. “Even better.” You looked at him, smiling. “Thank you for this.”

Seungkwan shrugged, but he returned your mirth. “Just doing my job.” He glanced at his wrist-watch. “Now, I must leave you. I have a sweet little date in an hour.”

If you thought landing a prestigious audition in your state was shocking, then that piece of information rocked you to your core. “You? On a date?”

A sour look. “Why did you say it like that?”

You raised your hands in surrender. “No, you’re right, I’m just…” You grinned, watching him inspect himself in your mirror. 

“What? Shocked that I don’t dedicate my entire life to your failing career?” Your agent scoffed. “If I’m sinking with your ship, let me at least indulge in my last moments.”

“Oh, please!” you mocked, joining him in the mirror. “I let you have fun!”

“For the sake of decorum, I will keep quiet,” he muttered. “And anyway, why berate me? Don’t you have a date with Jeonghan tonight?”

That you could not argue against. “I wonder where he’ll take me,” you thought out loud. 

“As long as I don’t see you both,” he said, fixing his waistcoat, “I will be satisfied.”

An incredulous look. “I hope your date doesn’t show up.”

“I hope the press ruins your night.”

“That was too far!”

“Do not expect rosy praises from me.” He turned around, tucking his blazer closer. “I am not your ex-boyfriend.”

“Thank the heavens for it!” you proclaimed, walking to the door. “Now will you get out already? I have to prepare.”

“Fine, fine!” Seungkwan strolled to where you stood, the hotel door wide open. “Don’t forget to read over the details, all right?”

“Yes, yes, I know!” you rushed, almost pushing him out. “You have a good evening!”

“Don’t forget!” he only exclaimed back before exiting the room, leaving you to your newfound knowledge. 

A chance to work in a Seungcheol production.

This could change your life.

Although you never had the chance to work with him in your career, the director had gained unimaginable fame for his movies. He had always been in demand in the industry before you became an actress, but after one blockbuster after another, every actor, even outside of Hollywood, wished for a chance to work in his films. 

The thought stayed in your mind throughout the day, comforting you through the evening, capturing your attention even when Jeonghan arrived to pick you up in the middle of the night. It was almost four in the morning, the usual time of your meetings, a time you had insisted on.

Sneaking out of the hotel, you instantly rushed into the familiar Bentley, car-door already open for you. Seeing the film noir star seated had you instantly lighting up. His hair was tied back in a small ponytail, flyaways framing his face as he released his hands from his leather jacket, a simple white shirt peeking out from the black exterior. He unfolded his legs at the sight of you, a dazzling smile morphing his coral lips. 

Leaning in, he held your chin and kissed you softly, humming against your mouth. Although it only lasted a few seconds, your head still spun as he broke away, licking his bottom lip. 

“Evening,” you got out in your daze. 

His effect on you had him incredibly smug. “Good evening,” he responded, stroking your chin with his thumb. “Are you ready to go?”

When you nodded eagerly, he pressed his lips upon yours, smiling against you. Breaking away, he straightened in his seat, ushering the driver to begin driving. Obliging instantly, the sleek vehicle drove out of the Ritz’s circle, reaching the main roads.

“Where are you taking me tonight?” you asked him as you observed the Seine, lapping against the banks. 

“Guess.”

Your mouth pressed in a line. “You know that I am terrible at guesses.”

“This, actually, is a very easy guess.”

You glanced at him, the city around you turning greener with the excess of trees, more and more appearing the closer you drove to your destination. “I will wait till we reach this mysterious place.”

Turning from the great gardens, the car crossed a great bridge, the Seine residing underneath the stone. Once crossed over, the ride began to slow, stopping just before the huge stretch of lawn, cut off from the car window. You would have looked out from your own window, but your view only offered the river, the real destination at Jeonghan’s side. 

The man stepped out from the vehicle, circling around to open your door. You eased yourself out, about to thank him when you turned to where he brought you.

Your head tilted up to take in the full sight of the Eiffel Tower.

It surprised you how tall it really was—you should not have been, considering you had seen it countless times in the past, but for some reason, you had forgotten how overwhelming the landmark was. A rush of breath escaped you, staring and staring at it as if it had just graced its presence this moment, and not over sixty years ago. 

Your ears caught Jeonghan’s French, muttering orders to the chauffeur to stay put, nearing you once again. “Let’s go,” he said, sliding his hand into yours. 

He led you away from the quay you both stood upon, boots touching the freshly-cut lawn of the Eiffel gardens. The only sound around you two was the autumn whistles of the wind, and the soft crunch of the grass beneath your feet. 

As you both walked closer, you turned to him, asking, “You’re not taking me up there, are you?”

Jeonghan’s eyes were rooted to one of the entrances, situated at either footing of the Tower. “So you’re good with guesses, after all.”

“But it’s closed.” You looked around, spotting some people working around the east pillar. “Aside from the workers there’s no one else around here.”

The actor tutted in a melodramatic fashion, tugging you to walk to the others. “Poor, sweet fool,” he began, swaying your enclasped hands, “Have you still not understood the benefits of being with the most famous man in the world?”

You could only shake your head at him. “Rubbing your advantages in again, I see.”

“Not rubbing them in,” he clarified, “But allowing you to exploit them.”

“Of course,” you said, fighting back your mirth. “Well, let’s see how this is going to work.”

The people that were overlooking the entrances perked up at the two of you, one of the women walking up. “Bonsoir, Monsieur Jeonghan!” she greeted.

“Bonsoir.” He eyed the tower looming right above them. “I made a special request to be taken up tonight.”

“Oui, oui, I remember…on the phone!” Excitement spilled from her features. “Pardon me, but I’m your biggest fan!” 

The man gave her a smile, thanking her profusely. She then turned to you, eyes widening. “Mon dieu…_____?”

You don’t know why that unnerved you. “The very same.”

Her gaze darted between you two—down to your entwined fingers. “Oh…” The shock that spread her face had you almost repelling your hand from his. “Certainement pas! You are back with her? After so long?” 

Her heightened questions attracted the attention of her colleagues, who were all surprised to see the two of you side-by-side. “It must be what? Trois? Quatre? Non, five years!”

You shifted on your feet, hand involuntarily tightening against his. When he sensed your growing discomfort, he opened his mouth, raising his hand to stop the incoming questions. “You must excuse us, but we don’t want to discuss these topics.” He then gestured to the Tower entrance. “We would appreciate it if you could take us up.”

The workers did not look like they were done with their inquiries, but of course, they had to comply with the actor’s wishes. “Bien sur…of course,” the first woman assured him, ushering the two of you forward. “Please, follow me.”

The Tower employees helped you through the security railings, slipping into the iron pillars. You were entered into a silver lift, lightbulbs sparking to life as you all went up. You stayed close to Jeonghan as the grating noise of the elevator continued, the guide watching you both intently.

You knew that the Eiffel Tower had two floors, but when you went past the second, you asked the woman. 

Jeonghan answered for you. “We’re going to the very top.”

Once you reached the final level, the lift door opened, leading you to a tightly-spaced, curved hallway, the views from below peeking beyond small holes of the container. A set of stairs greeted you, and as your foot landed on the first step, your date thanked the woman, letting her know that she may stay on deck. 

“Non, non, I understand! You need privacy with your…amourette, non?”

Amourette. A fling. 

He smiled, but this time it did not reach his eyes. “Oui…you may come back in a couple of hours.”

Nodding in acceptance, the guide went back into the lift. Once he saw her descend, he joined you as you both went up the stairs. 

You noticed his slight frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” He shook his head absent-mindedly. “Oh, nothing.” He reached the top of the stairs, you following suit.

You were going to pester him further when the view hit you.

It was as if the entire world lay beneath your feet.

Beyond the thin, criss-cross railings, keeping you back, you beheld the entirety of Paris underneath you. Familiar landmarks, the loops of the Seine, entire buildings packed within ordered streets, etched a story before you. It was as if some great, god-like painter had outlined languid brushstrokes to depict the soft current of the river, carved out marble to erect the tall buildings in each square, brought out the finest tools to detail each and every tree, gallery, monument that your vision could create. Dazed, you walked along, fingers touching the railing as you spotted the Louvre, nestled in the walls of its Palace, the Moulin Rouge, all the places that acknowledged your presence, tasted your enjoyment, relished your memories. 

You did not realise how much you fixated on the view till Jeonghan’s voice made you jolt. You whirled around, and found him holding two champagne glasses. “Where did you get those?” you asked him. 

He jerked his head to the right—a small bar greeted you, about a dozen unopened bottles stacked neatly along the bar surface. “I had them bring the drinks out for us.”

“You really know the way to my heart!” you exclaimed, grabbing one glass from him. 

“I should hope so,” he murmured, walking over to the bar, taking out a bottle of champagne. He set the glass down, grabbing a corkscrew. Popping open the cork, a fizz of alcohol sputtered from the top, you inching back from its trail as it stained the iron deck. Once it fizzled out, filled your glass, topping his own before putting the bottle back on the bar. 

Taking a sip, you turned back to the glorious view. “Paris truly is beautiful,” you said, gazing over the horizons of the ageing night. “I think I forget sometimes, but tonight…”

“Hmm…truly sensational.”

But you knew he was not looking over at the city’s horizon.

Cheeks heating, you avoided his stare, looking at your treasured place. 

The two of you spent the next hour sipping your champagne, walking the full circle to take in every inch of Paris and her slowly waking citizens. Soon, bored with your current drink, you tried several bottles from the collection—from the rarest red wines to spirits, careful not to indulge in too much alcohol lest you ruin your night with your drunken stupor. 

It must have been a while before you informed Jeonghan of your recent good news.

He was over the moon.

“This is amazing news!” he proclaimed, raising his glass. “To you and the revival of your fame!”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, sipping your wine. “I mean, it’s just the audition. It’s not as if I’ve been offered the part.”

“Well, I know you’re going to get it,” he insisted. “You are the best actress I have seen in cinema.”

You kissed your lips, finishing your drink. “Now you’re just saying things.”

“You know I don’t just say things.”

That you did.

“Oh well,” you started, walking over to the bar. “I hope I do get the role, if only to shut everyone up.” You topped up your glass. “God, did you hear what that woman said of me? You are back with her?” you parrotted, amplifying the venom in your words. 

Jeonghan heard much more from that guide’s lips, too, but he did not share them with you—you did not need another comment to torment you. 

“The nerve,” you muttered, drinking your wine. “I will never forgive the press for the stories they made about our relationship.”

That comment had the actor pausing. He looked down at his rosé, swirling it in his glass. 

He wished he could say something about your declaration—in truth, the blame could not have been brought at the media’s door for the ending of his relationship with you, all that time ago.

But you were with him here—basking in his presence, drinking his alcohol, laughing at his jokes. Maybe another time, he will resort to difficult conversation.

So he only waved you off. “Don’t mind them, _____. What matters is that you and I are here now.”

“Yes, but…” You regarded the view. “This was the first time you and I were seen properly together and something was said about me.” You could help the sharp exhale. “It’s just…what would happen if we went out in daylight? When the whole world is watching us, judging us?”

He listened to you, taking in your concerns. He stepped closer to you, standing side-by-side, shoulders grazing against each other. 

As he watched the entire world—the world that only the two of you could see—he sipped his drink, letting his heart speak for him.

“Then we’ll damn the whole world together.”

You turned to him—but he was staring at the horizon, a sliver of sunshine peeking from its lining. 

You could not breathe. 

“Jeonghan…”

“Do you know why I brought you here today?”

Your hands interlocked with each other, holding the flute. “Was there a specific reason?”

He clamped his lips together, dipping his head. His hand reached out to the railing, pointing at the sun, shy, hesitant in its rise. The rays slipped out from the horizon, peeking out from the thousands of buildings that tried to hide it. “You see the sun?” We haven’t seen it together since we’ve reunited.”

Watching the day endeavour to begin, your confusion had you questioning him. “So?”

A moment had to pass before he continued. “Don’t you ever want to see me in the daytime?”

“Of course I do, but…” you pressed your lips in a thin line, swirling your drink. “I couldn’t take what they’d say about you and me.”

“I could take it for you,” he murmured. “If you would let me.”

Your next intake of breath was hitched—sharp. “They already say too much about me, Jeonghan. I cannot let you be a victim to it too.”

His nod was hesitant.

If only you would understand that he did not care.

He did not care a single a bit should the cameras caught him with you. Hell, he would have pressed his aching lips to yours, give them something to really talk about. 

He had to confess his growing desperation.

Sneaking around with you gave him great joy, but watching the sun’s light shine on your face, illuminating your skin…the sight brought him happiness the likes he had not felt in a long, long time. Perhaps you were not aware of it, but in his eyes, you were too talented, too brilliant to be hidden away in the shadows—be it the darkness of his favourite city.

You were always meant to be admired.

Swallowing the lump of cowardice, lodged within his throat, he reached out, holding onto your hand. 

Perking up, you gaped at his fingers enveloping around yours before focusing on him. 

“Whatever the tabloids write about us, whichever reporter takes pictures of us…it’ll all be in vain.”

His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand. “I lost you once before, chérie,” he muttered, voice lowering.  

“I cannot lose you again.”

Your heartbeat paused.

Halted for a few moments, dazed at the words that left the actor’s lips. As if time had mellowed twice over, you blinked back at him, each caress of his thumb sparking you alive. 

His gentle, melancholy gaze locked with yours. 

In that second, atop the highest peak in Paris, you witnessed the sun, now rising with more confidence, spill its light upon its subjects. The most special of those subjects, right before you, received its brilliance, lighting the dark irises of his eyes, making his skin glitter. In these moments, you let yourself forget that you were a disgraced, unwanted actress, harbouring feelings for a man who was supposed to be unattainable. In that singular moment, stretching to a thousand years, you believed in him.

In a world filled with lies, rumours and deception, you clung onto the one figure of truth.

Never had believing in a person been so easy.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, gravitating closer to him. His name fanned his lips, and he broke the seam, gazing down at your mouth.

“_____,” he said right back, tenderly—desperately. 

You closed the fine distance.

Enveloping his lips with your own, his elated hums escaped him as he melted onto you, letting go of your hand and encircling his own around your waist. The kisses he had shared with you were ravenous, always aching to fill the absence of years between you, but this time, the burning fires had been soothed, mitigated by the movements of your mouth, slotting perfectly against him. His stray curls caressed your cheeks as he angled his head, delving deeper into you, savouring the way you tasted.

Perhaps you both would have stayed forever in this position, high above the prying eyes, but now the sun had left its sanctuary, shining brightly upon you two. You made yourself pull away, empty glass in hand as you clutched onto his leather jacket. 

You allowed yourself to confide in him as you said, “I liked it, you know.”

A teasing quirk of his brow. “The kiss? I sure well hope so.”

“That too, but…” You ticked your head at the view of Paris, and the sun shining upon it. “Doing this at dawn. I missed how you looked in the daylight.”

Jeonghan wished there was a way to capture such a precious comment and store it in his heart forever. 

He was about to say something when he heard rustling from beyond the stairs of the entrance. Gaze straying beyond yours, you, too, turned around, finding the guide at the foot of the steps.

“Ah, oh!” She exclaimed, witnessing your affectionate moment. “Désolé, sorry, sorry! I just wanted to let you know that the Tower will be opening to the public in a couple of hours.”

“Right,” the actor responded, his hold on you steady. “We’ll be with you shortly.”

As the guide scurried away to the lift entrance, a short huff of breath escaped you. “I wish we could have spent the day here as well.”

Slowly, as if it hurt to do so, he retracted his hands from your waist. “I know,” he agreed, taking your empty glass from you, setting them both atop the bar.

“Are you not important enough to rent out the Eiffel Tower for the whole day?” you drawled, earning scoffed laughter from him.

His fingers grazed your back as he led you down the stairs. “Next time, you can be responsible for our destinations.”

“I hope you will be satisfied with my hotel room, then,” you countered, smile never leaving your lips as the two of you entered the cramped deck, finding your way into the lifts once more.

The woman was there, closing the railed doors as the elevator began to go down. Her indecipherable gaze was upon you both, never quite leaving. “Monsieur, did you enjoy the views? She asked, hands locking in front of her.

“I have never seen anything so beautiful,” you thought out loud, already missing the skyline vision of the city. “I’ll be sure to return.”

All you received from your review was a hesitant smile. When Jeonghan agreed with you, her face lit up, as if Christmas had been announced a month early.

You furrowed your brows.

The way she acted around you was incredibly strange. Whenever you caught her looking at you, she would instantly avert your eyes, but you could not mistake the traces—hell, dollops of dislike that filled her gaze. You held onto Jeonghan’s hand a little tighter, scowling at the obvious favour for the actor before you. 

So you had your disapprovers beyond the media here. 

The lift down took another fifteen uncomfortable minutes, the only distractions being your date’s comments on the Tower, or his questions to the guide. Once you all arrived at the ground floor, the elevator doors opened, entering the welcome halls. 

“Enjoy the rest of your day!” the woman chirped at the man. She offered you a smile which did not reach her eyes. “Toi, aussi.”

Hmph. “Thank you,” you mumbled, Jeonghan dipping his head as the two of you made your way through the halls. 

As you heard a slight commotion from outside, you furrowed your brows. “Why is it so loud outside?” you asked. “Isn’t there still an hour till the Tower opens?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” he said, unable to check the windows too for the shutters were down. “Ah, well, it’s still early. I don’t think anyone will see us.”

Spotting the doors of the entrance, the two of you pushed them together, ready to return to your lives. 

That was when the worst possible drawback welcomed you at the foot of the pillar.

“Oh my fucking God—”

“There they are!”

“Finally!”

The mass of journalists scurried for their cameras, all their faces revealing the same shock as you and your ex-lover.

The cameras were raised, like zombies from the ground. 

You were offered one millisecond to blink back at the hundred black lenses, shutters snapping open. 

That was when chaos began.

Chaos, pure, tyrannical anarchy as a hundred click! click! clicks! of the cameras attacked you, accompanied by the saturated, white flashes. The flashes were the worst, making you cry out in surprise as you hunched over, like a criminal caught red-handed at the scene of the crime, like a cheat caught in bed with another. 

The lights were blinding, hurting your eyes, but the clicking had frozen you completely. This was the sound of your nightmares, and they had caught up to you—there you were, with the man who had not seen your worst, hounded by the press and reducing you to a creature unworthy of having a date up the Eiffel Tower. Your hands, reflexively, slapped to your ears, trying to drown the sound out, but to no avail; the media was a relentless entity, and it had found you with the one man they never even dreamt would be beside you.

You were destined for ruination.

Suddenly, your breaths were being snatched away, and what was an action so natural became impossible to overcome. Each shuddered inhale became shorter, harder, and the journalists even gasped at the way your mouth slackened, trying to engulf the oxygen that simply was not there.

You were going to die—this was the end, and a spectacular end one at that, worthy of an actress as volatile as you had become. You would crumble and collapse before the most famous man in the world, and he would watch in horror as a hundred journalists captured every moment of your suffering.

Among the hysteria of a thousand snappings of the shutter, and a million flashes of the lights, you felt a tug of strong arms around your shoulders.

A booming voice soared over the sea of cameras.

“Out of the fucking way!”

You did not have a moment to comprehend what was happening before the familiar hands on your arms propelled you forward—the wall of journalists split in half, making way for the seething actor, making your legs thunder down the pavement. You were not in control of your own limbs anymore. Completely at the will of another, your hands tightened against your ears as you heard orders to follow you. You did not listen to the murmurs of the man beside you, pressed against you as he led you out of the swarm of journalists. His eyes were razor-focused at the Bentley, stuck between the dozens of cars that had lined up against the quay. The trek was much slower, owing to the complete life-sucking shock you were experiencing, but if you and him could just get in the damn car—

“Jeonghan! Jeonghan, _____, just a few questions?”

“When did this romance revive?”

“Did _____ ask you out first?”

“Did _____ approach you?”

“Did _____ start this shocking relationship?!”

With every hateful question, Jeonghan’s rage grew.

For your sake, he kept his anger restricted in his gritted teeth and determined gaze, the car close enough to reach.

Wrenching open the car door, he nearly ripped it off its hinges, making his chauffeur jump at the start. “Get in, chérie,” he muttered to you, helping you inside, settling your curling mess beside him as he snapped the door shut. He turned to the man in the driver’s seat, voice booming louder. “We need to leave now!”

He did not have to repeat his order again.

Slamming his foot on the brakes, the chauffeur just managed to escape the horde of reporters, about to surround the vehicle. Instantly, you felt yourself jolt at the force of the car, undoubtedly breaking the speed limit as you were whisked out of the Eiffel Tower’s domain.

You, on the other hand, could not unhear the clicking.

The bright flashes tormented you in the car, not realising that your hands were still pressed upon your ears. Your breathing was still uneven, rasping out your mouth in hitched intervals, and if you curled anymore into yourself, you would have disappeared.

Perhaps that would have been best.

Jeonghan, endeavouring to calm himself from the reporters, took one look at your retreating figure.

His heart shattered in pieces.

Instantly his hands reached out, holding your wrists in his fingers, prying them away from your head. He tried to sit you up straighter, never letting go of you as he scanned your face, the lack of life prevalent in your features.

“_____….”

Your eyes darted to him. 

Jeonghan’s gaze began to twitch.

He turned to his chauffeur, already crossed the bridge over the Seine. “Take us to the apartment. We’ll be safe there—”

“No.”

He whirled his head to you.

Your stare had widened—slowly, you were shaking your head, gripping onto the bottom of the seat. “No.”

“_____, they are chasing after us.” He held your hand in both of his, trying to convince you. “They will not find us where I live—”

His speech was cut off when you repelled your hand from his hold.

“Take me back to the hotel.”

His brows knitted in confusion. “_____, they’ll know you’re there—”

“I don’t care.”

Your head still shook—your breathing was slowly normalising, but the complete lack of emotions in your eyes chilled the actor to the bone. 

“Take me back…now.”

He could only gape at you, his hands void of your presence.

Absentmindedly he carried the message to the driver, who then took the rigid turn into the Champs-Élysées, heading for the new destination.

The man endeavoured to gain a response from you, his own nerves rising from your heavy silence, not even deigning him a glance. The familiar, grand hotel was in view as the Bentley closened to the entrance, and your hand was already on the handle, anticipating the stop.

Jeonghan noticed instantly. “_____, wait—”

You did not wait for him to finish. The moment the car stopped, you hurled out of your seat. Slamming the door shut, you made to run into the entrances, biting down the urge to hold your face in your hands with every guest that watched your dishevelled appearance.

They were further shocked to find the film noir star getting out of the car, too, following after the likes of you.

His step was hasty, almost catching up with you when you whirled around, hand raised to stop him.

The look in your eyes made the man shiver.

“Don’t follow me in.”

With that, you turned your back to him, running past the grand doors of the Ritz. 

And even though every muscle in his slender body screamed at him to follow you inside, to the ends of the world, he could only stand still—mouth parted in shock, and eyes heavy with a loss.

The loss of a fantasy, and the possible loss of you and your faith in him.

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 12TH NOVEMBER, 1954

BREAKING NEWS: _____ _____ AND YOON JEONGHAN SPOTTED AFTER FIVE YEARS!

Who would have thought that you all would be seeing her name again? Not us! Well, we are about to rock your worlds when we give you this breaking news: once-superstar turned disgraced escapee _____ has finally come into view again, and with none other than her ex-lover Yoon Jeonghan!

That’s right—THE Yoon Jeonghan! 

The two lovebirds were spotted outside the Eiffel Tower, no doubt on a secret date, but their shocking relationship cannot be hidden any longer. Who would have thought, after nearly half a decade of zero contact, the two are tangled up in each other more than ______ was when she fist-fought her co-star! 

We are certain you all are wondering what has caused this absolute shocker of a reunion! Here at France-Soir, we have speculated that _____, unable to get out from her acting slump and continuous scandals, has come crawling back to our famed hero. Think about it—_____ on the fall, and Jeonghan on the rise—who would not wish their ex-boyfriend back in these conditions?

Readers have also expressed disappointment in Jeonghan for interacting with his infamous ex after so long. We assume that you are all concerned for his career, especially with the premiere of his upcoming movie just around the corner. 

Well, Yoon Jeonghan, if you are reading this (one can only dream!) then heed our advice—dump the phoney! Her scandalous reputation will only harm you. You would not want that again, would you?

This may be all we have for today, but not to worry, everyone. We will return with updates very soon. We have a feeling these two are only just starting.

YOU READ THE LAST WORDS OF THE COLUMN OF FRANCE-SOIR, CRUMPLING THE PAGES IN YOUR FINGERS.

With an uncontrollable rage, you ripped out the page, scrunching the page and throwing it across your room.

But that was not enough. 

Because the entire fucking magazine was riddled with no other news, pictures of yours and Jeonghan’s pure shock printed on every single side of the pages. 

You dropped the paper book upon the pile of dozens others.

Every single magazine in Paris had your picture upon it.

The disaster was upon you within two days. You knew you would not be able to escape it, but the exposition of you and the film noir star had rocked the world by storm. Every radio station, every television channel, every newspaper panel had written of you two being caught within the Eiffel Tower, all smiles and embraces. The public could not believe their eyes when they took hold of their preferred form of media, gazing or hearing the news. 

You and Jeonghan. The young lovers of Hollywood, doomed from the first time they ended their relationship, now continuing it once more. 

Although you anticipated the negative reaction, you were still shocked at the outpour of disapproval that came from the people.

Seungkwan, firstly, did not even wish to show you what others were writing of it, but he could not hide the truth from you for long enough. The outcries against you and your scandalous image, the lamentations against Jeonghan’s terrible decision to go along with the relationship you had somehow insisted on…that was not even half of the headlines. 

What surprised you the most was the protests against your ex-lover.

You had expected comments against you, but the complaints against your ex was something that threw you off. The negative reactions against his decision making, commenting on his poor choices, even going so far as to call him selfish for pursuing a relationship with you, especially with one of the biggest movies this year about to be released. You did not understand the responses that he received, since he was supposed to be untouchable. Even though you had predicted this would happen, it still did not lessen your shock. 

There was one element in common with all the complaints against him.

They still, in the end, placed the blame at your door.

Jeonghan should have known better than to become involved with _____.

Undoubtedly _____ was responsible for this relationship.

Why would someone like Yoon Jeonghan wish to reunite with someone like _____?

The last one stung for much longer than you wished.

Safe to say, in the days after your conflict with the press, you had not left your hotel room. 

When you first told Seungkwan of what had happened, you distinctly remembered the colour leaving his face. When he resorted to putting his head in his hands, you knew that things were about to take a turn for the worst.

It was bad enough to be caught in the busiest destination in Paris, but somehow the bastards in the media found out where you were residing at this moment—as of the past few days, the Ritz was hounded by the press everyday, waiting for you to come out, hand yourself to them like a sacrificial lamb. 

You were not going to let them win.

Whilst you were cooped into your hotel room, empty bottles plastered around you, you pondered on your situation. Paris as your sanctuary had been discovered, and was now being sacked. 

The evening had passed in the city, and you thought that the reporters were about to leave for the day when you saw the familiar Bentley driving in front of the entrance. Instantly you perked up, leaning into the window. 

With horror you watched as your film noir star left his car, snapping the door shut. 

His wavy hair was out, eyes hidden by the black shades perched on his delicate nose, a large trench coat hiding his slender figure as he strolled into the hotel, ignoring the million camera flashes upon him. His mouth was set in a hard line, his presence snuffed out as he faded from your view.

Fuck.

He was coming to see you. 

Suddenly, you whirled around to your room, in an even worse state than you last remembered. My God, he could not see you like this, visibly worsened since the last time he had laid his melancholy eyes on you.

Perhaps you could pretend you were not in the hotel.

The five minute wait from the entrance to your room was spent in such heart-wrenching anxiety that when the hard knocks on the door finally arrived, you jumped out of your skin, yelping out. 

There goes your original plan.

Taking a deep breath, hand resting on your stomach, you braved the steps to your door, shaking hand upon the knob.

You opened the door, facing the one entity you had been dreading.

One look at Jeonghan’s face, and you almost forgot everything that had happened.

His shades were off, revealing the shivering black pupils of his doe-like eyes, exposing such a panicked concern you could not help but part your mouth. He stood there before you, like a soul on its last threads of hope. 

He was going to say something when you heard the faint clicking of the cameras.

And then you remembered.

You remembered why you did not try to see him in the past days of this chaos; why you had resorted to surround yourself in these thick, 5-star walls, away from the world—away from him.

You steeled your gaze. “Why are you here?”

It was as if you had shot him. “Why…why am I here?”

But you turned your back to him, walking further into your domain. “You shouldn’t have come.”

His confusion had him absent-mindedly closing the door, following after you on instinct. “What are you talking about? I had to come, seeing as you won’t return my phone calls!”

Ah, yes. The constant ringing of your telephone in the past couple of days that you had dutifully ignored. You knew that it was no nosey journalists tormenting you, but the man you had feared to meet the moment the world realised where you truly hid.

You decided to evade his claims. “Those damned reporters have seen you now,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “Just you see what they’re going to write about in the papers tomorrow.”

Jeonghan’s voice had you near-flinching. 

“You think I give a fuck about the papers?”

On another evening you would have adored this comment—in another lifetime, where your every thought did not revolve around the flashing of the lights, the snapping of the shutters, and other people’s opinions.

“Of course you would say that!” you snarled, turning around. “Not that they’ve said anything about you!”

“Oh, they have said plenty about me,” he muttered. 

A scoff. “So you do give a fuck about the papers, then?”

The man’s coral lips pressed in a hard line. “I do not give a fuck when I have greater problems at hand.”

“What problems do you have, Jeonghan?” you demanded, taking a step closer. 

He matched your vigour. “I have this huge damned problem of why you are ignoring me.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” 

“Don’t…” he paused, taking a breath to steady his speech. “Don’t lie to me.”

You gritted your teeth. 

So it cannot be avoided. 

“Why did you take me in the daytime?”

He narrowed his brows. 

“What?”

“You knew this would happen,” you continued, agitation rising with each word that left your mouth. “You knew of my reputation, yet you still risked taking me out at dawn. Why did you decide the day and not the night?”

Your words left a horrible feeling in his stomach. “Don’t you find it strange? Meeting each other in secret like…like thieves?”

Your brows furrowed at that. “I don’t see it like that.”

“No?” He stared you down. “Then how do you see it?”

“We were being careful! So we do not get caught like we have now!”

“We have to act as if we have done something wrong…sneaking, creeping around, not even letting the day catch us.”

His groan was low. “What have we done? Choose to be with each other?”

“You know as well as I do that it is never as easy as that.” Your scowl was harsh, spoiling your features. “I told you the risks, Jeonghan, kept going on and on about what would happen should they catch us. Why did you do that to me?”

Jeonghan cocked his head, taking in your accusations against him. The furrow of his brow deepened, not quite believing what you held against him. “You…you thought I was trying to ruin your image? On purpose?”

“Well, no, but—” You clamped down on your lips, remembering memories from long ago, which were best kept far inside you. 

With his claim, though, you had to mention them—even if it hurt you. “I can see why you would wish to.”

“Why? Why would I wish to?”

“Because of what happened between us!”

Silence.

There—the first hints of the past.

You could have creased at his reaction.

“What the fuck?”

He was breathing out of his mouth now, narrowing his eyes. “How can you think that of me?” 

“Jeonghan, that’s not what I mean!” You pressed your hands to your hips, looking down at your feet. “I just—” Another sigh broke free, the truth aching in your throat the more it tried to escape. “I can understand if you did wish to expose me—”

The man’s scoff cut you off instantly. “I cannot believe you would suggest such a thing,” he snarled. “How can you bring such horrors from the past into this conversation?”

“Because this is the past repeating itself!” you exclaimed, your hands digging deeper at your sides. “Because we had this exact same conversation five years ago, and it did not end well!” 

“Oh my God!” His hand raked through his hair, trying to release his frustration into the poor, innocent locks. “Why are you still stuck to the ghosts of the past? I thought we had moved on from everything!”

“You might have moved on fine!” you corrected him, voice raising with each counter. “I have stayed in the same damned spot in LA, rotting when my movies didn’t do well, when the press would harass me, while you had everyone worshipping you!”

He blinked back at your exclamation. 

For the first time that evening, he felt unadulterated rage within his bones. 

“You know damned well I did not move on.”

You knew—of course you knew, but you were too fired up, thinking of the slander in the papers, the comments in the columns that haunted your every waking moment. You knew you were being unreasonable, but at that moment in time, you did not care one bit.

So you refused to restrict your cruelty. 

“You seemed very moved on to me!” you crowed, taking another step towards him. “Why, was it not mere weeks after our breakup that you shot to stardom, everyone in the world singing your praises?! You did not seem depressed at all!”

His voice was colder than the Alps. “Don’t talk as if you saw me in those months.”

“Of course I couldn’t! I was battling the same goddamn press that haunts me today!” You pointed your accusing finger at him. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like, to have your name slandered in every magazine, every television screen!”

“I wouldn’t know?! I wouldn’t know?!” Now he was walking up to you, a mere two feet from where you stood, shaking with anger. “You think I’ve forgotten how these fucking journalists came for me? Whose fault was that, huh?!”

You could not take this—he was ripping out the bandages of old wounds, and you knew that they had not healed. 

“Oh, so it was my fault?!” you screamed, slapping a hand to your chest. “I sent those reporters to your door?!”

“It was your fucking ex-manager who reported the news at that time! Or have you forgotten the details that don’t concern you?”

Your glare was laced with venom. “Now who’s clinging to ghosts?”

The harsh knit of his brows disappeared, face relaxing as he stared at you, almost as if seeing you for the first time. His head was quivering to the sides, almost shaking in disbelief. 

He had never looked so defeated in his life.

“Please don’t break my heart again, chérie.”

You blinked back.

Kept looking at him, listening to the plea that escaped his beautiful, drooping mouth. 

That alone could have broken your heart. 

“Wh-what…” your voice was barely a whisper. “What do you expect me to do? Pretend I am okay with…with all this?”

The shouting of the journalists was still prevalent in your ears, as well the encircling of the cars—waiting for the two of you to come out. 

You continued, void of life. “I cannot go through it again…you may have risen from the press five years ago but…I am still reaping LA’s consequences.”

A sharp tick appeared in the actor’s jaw. “So you punish me.”

Your eyes squinted, as if he sprayed you with acid. “I…” you gulped. “I have sacrificed too much, Jeonghan. You don’t understand.”

But he watched you, comprehending you perfectly. “No…no I do.” A smile morphed onto his face, a haunting quirk of his mouth that did not reach his eyes at all. 

“I was one of the sacrifices, no?”

You tried to snap back, rebuke him for such a claim.

Nothing came out.

Your breath hitched in your throat, refusing to let your white lie escape. You watched in horror as Jeonghan scoffed softly. 

“I—” you cursed, closing your eyes, trying to formulate your words, trying so ardently to not shatter his willpower. “You have to realise…back then…I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t l-love you…” A hard, shivering sigh. “My team that time, they said it was better for us to—”

“And what’s your excuse now?”

His interruption was barely a whisper.

“Who’s holding you back this time?”

You stared at him. Your hands tried to gesture to the torn up magazines, littered across your floor. “The world.”

“The world, huh? The people who torment you, this very minute?” He pointed to the window, where they could still be heard. “You choose them over me? Again?”

You had no answer to offer him. 

That was all he needed from you. 

He was nodding slowly, ever so slowly, and if you were not nervous before, you were riddled with anxiety now. Hesitantly, he turned, making heavy steps towards the door. 

You did not know why you tried to pursue him. “Wait, Jeonghan—”

His hands paused at the doorknob. You were going to reach for him, but he stepped past your hand.

He faced you one last time, his aching, sublime features now sombre. “I really thought, _____, that this time…it would be different.” 

His gaze darted over your features, as if he was never going to see you again. “Perhaps you were right…perhaps I was the one clinging to the ghosts of the past. I have learned my lesson.”

You could have burst into tears. 

But you only gaped at him as he opened the door. 

He looked over his shoulder. “I hope you find peace in your choice, chérie.”

With that, he left you, closing the door shut should you follow. 

And, five minutes later, as the snapping of the cameras grew louder, you whirled, running to your window. You watched your film noir star—your once actor thunder past the press, completely silent to the thousands of questions thrown his way about you as he swiftly dove into his car. 

Your glassy vision showed you his Bentley driving away from the Ritz entrance.

If only the reporters knew just where your hotel room was—then they could have captured a golden story for their papers. 

A perfect update to their awful story, because if they only looked up and saw you, then your tears would have been enough to deduce what had become of you and your ex-lover. 

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 26TH NOVEMBER, 1954

YOON JEONGHAN SPOTTED ALONE LEAVING MICHELIN STAR RESTAURANT!

Alone, we say! Was it not two weeks ago when the most shocking news of the year had been dropped upon you readers, and here he was on the streets of Paris, as dejected as a heartbroken fool? Ever since he left the Ritz, no doubt to talk to his heartbreaker, he has not been seen with _____ since. Perhaps he has finally caught onto his fans’ disappointment, and is expressing his apologies to you all!

As for _____, she has not been spotted outside. She has found her sanctuary somewhere else, but not to fret, everyone! We have our people outside of the hotel, and we will make sure to publish the pictures of her heartbreak too should she show herself to us!

NOTHING COULD SAVE YOU ANYMORE.

Whatever you thought you had with your once lover had seemed to cease completely. The infinite calls you had left him were ignored, and even showing up to where he was supposed to visit on press tours was not enough.

Once again, you had managed to land yourself in a ceremonious screw up.

You supposed that you should have been used to it by now. You were in this very city because of your infamous fuck ups, and your latest damage was almost irreversible. 

Seungkwan’s words fell on deaf ears.

Every morsel of food, every pint of alcohol could not fill the empty, hollow vessel in your heart, growing with each day without Jeonghan’s sultry murmurs entertaining your late nights. Almost comically, like the first few weeks in the city, you hid yourself away, the press a completely secondary thought to what plagued your every waking—dreaming moment. 

So you carried on with what you did best.

Shut yourself away in your hotel room, slowly withering yourself away in your mistakes. 

Why did you care so much about these fucking papers?

With every glass came another memory.

Please don’t break my heart again, chérie.

Yoon Jeonghan. The Yoon Jeonghan, the film noir superstar, bared his soul out to you, and you crushed it with no mercy.

Every single night you spent with this man, every single fleeting moment, you knew that perhaps you had felt the same. Of course, your self-destructing nature prevented you from ever achieving happiness, but even common sense begged you to reciprocate.

This time, your heart knew. 

But you had completely, fully, without a shadow of a doubt, fucked everything up.

The days of wallowing dragged on, and soon the only time you heard Jeonghan’s name was on the news, reporting of his last few nights in Paris before the end of his film promotions. Quickly you turned the television off, lethargically stumbling back into your bed before pulling the sheets over yourself, hoping the darkness would engulf you whole and eat you alive.

Of course, since the universe despised you more so than you thought, harsh rapping on your hotel door meant that you could never find peace, even within your pain. “Oh, fuck off!” you screamed in your broken rasp, hurting your head with the shrill volume.

“I’m not leaving this time, ____, open up!” a familiar voice drilled through, and you genuinely prayed for whatever entity torturing you to torture your dear friend too.

“I’m not opening the door, Seungkwan!” 

“You better, or I’m smashing it down!”

You merely scoffed, closing your eyes in hopes of sleep.

THUD!

Your eyes flew open.

THUD!

“I mean it!”

Groaning, you crawled out of the sheets, walking to the ramming door. You opened it much too quickly, nearly being kicked in the face. 

“Watch it, idiot!” you hissed, immediately retreating.

“I should kick you,” he greeted coldly, closing the door behind him as he fixed the strap of his satchel. Upon observing the worsening state of your room, he grumbled further, tossing aside the dirty dresses with his shoes. “God, I know you ruined your life, but could you not ruin this room? We still have to pay for this month.”

You knifed him with a look. “Cleanliness is the last thing on my mind.”

He looked as if he was biting back a remark, but thankfully reined it in. “Look, I would have gladly let you wither away in self-pity, but I came here today because of something important.”

Your eyes stilled on his face. “Has he reached out to you?” you asked, feeling incredibly foolish for the hope in your voice.

The sad turn of his mouth was enough of an answer. “I did try, ____. I hope you know that.”

A moment of silence. “I do.” You cleared your throat, hoping a lump won’t form and break your tone. “What was the important thing?”

“Oh, yes.” He sat himself down, glancing at the half-dozen empty wine bottles on your desk. “Right, so I know with everything going on, this is not the best time, but…”

He reached down to his satchel, opening the latch and fishing a collection of papers from the inside. “I got the script for the Seungcheol production.”

That immediately darkened your spirits. “I don’t feel like doing an audition at the moment.”

“Last time I remembered, you were a failing actress. Doing auditions should be your only concern.”

You hated how much that stung you. “I’m afraid I cannot be enthusiastic enough for you,” you snarled, sitting in the opposite chair. “Should I…oh, I don’t know, pretend I didn’t make the worst decision of my life and carry on as if nothing has happened?”

Seungkwan frowned. “_____, you know I am here for you, right? I understand that this fight with Jeonghan…I get it.” He sighed, bringing the papers on the table. “But I cannot see you wasting yourself away. You may not give a single shit about yourself, but there are others who do.”

A glance towards him. He was looking at you with a serious earnestness. “Look, this audition…it’s very important. I’ve already told you about the logistics, but should you get it…it could turn your life back around.”

You knew that—of course you were aware of the rewards of starring in Seungcheol’s films. Many young actors flocked to his auditions in hopes for a part, regardless of how important their presence might be in the movie. It was why Jeonghan shot to stardom, months after you ended your relationship. 

It was why you slumped further in your seat, hugging yourself tightly. “I don’t know…I feel like they won’t accept me.”

The man could see right through you. “If you’re worried about what’s being said in the papers, forget about it.” A roll of eyes. “Seungcheol is a moody, tight bastard, I can’t lie…but one thing I can say for certain. He is incredibly fair.”

He patted the documents. “If you truly impress him, he won’t care about the press. He will give you the part.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, still a little unsure. 

“So?” 

Seungkwan stood up, sliding his hands in his pockets. “What do you say?”

You stared at him, shuffling from side to side. 

You wanted to say no.

Outright refuse, and continue your indefinite journey to a slow, agonising death. What was the point in doing an audition that high-profile anyway? With A-list names involved, you doubted that the producers would take you on, considering your crippled reputation. 

But deep down, you knew you could not live like this forever. 

Observing your hotel room, the mess you resided in, you had an inclination that your funds were running dry. You did not realise the strain your agent was in, the hours he must have invested in trying to change your situation around. Admittedly, you had spent such a substantial amount of time being around, thinking about, crying over your ex-lover that you had forgotten why you were truly in Paris. 

If you could not act for your own sake, then you had to trudge on for Seungkwan’s—the poor man was already certain you planned a theatrical show of murdering yourself in the name of woe.

Your stare was unshaken as you pinned it on the papers.

Undoubtedly the lines for the role.

“I’ll do it.”

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 2ND DECEMBER, 1954

YOON JEONGHAN ABSENT FROM LAST NIGHT’S BIG PREMIERE!

Two-time Academy winning actor, heart-throb and biggest star to date Yoon Jeonghan has brought us yet another shocker since his sighting with his scandalous past-amour, _____. As his upcoming movie premiered spectacularly in the central city, spectators were greatly disappointed to find that the main attraction was not there to greet them with his signature, enigmatic smiles. When asked why his fellow co-star is absent, Vernon Chwe talked of a sudden illness, and asked his fans to send him well-wishes. 

We wonder, just like our readers, whether this illness is a true, unfortunate circumstance for our poor star, or whether it is a coverup to continue his shocking meetings with his ex. Not to worry, everyone, because we will find out soon enough!

YOU WERE SURPRISED THAT YOU HAD NOT THROWN UP ON THE WAY TO YOUR DESTINATION.

Palais Garnier was not as far as you had imagined—only a ten minute walk, but because of recent events, you decided to take a cab there. It was already frightful enough that journalists camped out at the Ritz, waiting for you to come out at any point in the day. Fortunately for you, the auditions were being done hours before dawn, so most of the city was already asleep—even the people with cameras that pestered you to no end. 

It did seem bizarre to hold the calls at such late an hour, but Seungkwan had warned you of the infamous director’s customs. The late hours did not bother you, though, when you had become accustomed to staying awake when the sun was long gone.

Even with the security of a car, you covered yourself from head to toe—your face was half-masked, hair wrapped in a scarf. Your collared shirt shrouded you to your wrists, black trousers donned as your skirts had become too troublesome. Anxious in your minutes-long ride to the destination, you clutched the papers, reading your lines over and over. It was not too useful at this point, when you had memorised not only yours, but of the love interest as well, but repeating the dialogues in your mind was the only action that stopped you from losing your mind. 

When the driver stopped before the grand building, you paid your fare, getting out of the vehicle. No one recognised your mysterious figure, so you allowed yourself to look at where specifically the auditions were being held. The Palais Garnier was a truly spectacular sight—the classical opera house towered over you, every inch akin to a palace as the off-white columns sat atop thinner, circular columns. The European masters of the art and music had their figures sculpted in between the first floor, minor gods of instruments and melodies at eye-level with you. Gold statues of Harmony and Poetry, accompanied by Pegasus, watching over your tiny figure in comparison to their hind, glorious bodies, high above atop the roof. The light teal dome settled in the middle, Apollo settled at the top of the point, holding out his golden lyre, stone-cold eyes watching over your nervous steps.

You had half a mind to cower away, but you reminded yourself that they were just statues—lifeless, unjudging. What resided inside was much worse.

Cursing low, you entered the opera house. 

The interior was just as magical as the outside, you navigating the intricate, red-velveted halls. You were aware that the auditions were being carried out in the grand auditorium—again, courtesy of your obsession with Parisian landmarks, you had been inside the opera house before. 

The only difference was that you had never been here alone.

You supposed that you should become used to the absence. 

Once you found the grand doors of the auditorium, you opened one, taking in the scene. The huge, singular chandelier lit the vast theatre, golden bordered stalls looking over the couple dozen crew, walking and rushing in and out backstage, few seated in the plush red chairs. The most important people, however, stood before the stage, watching the very performances that you were expecting to do. A sole actress atop the stage read out the lines that you had ingrained in your mind, you spying a few others behind the curtains, anxiously waiting their turn. 

Trying to control your breathing, you began the descent downstairs, passing each lush row of seats, the producers, casting directors, and the big man himself closer and closer. Once you were three rows from the crew, you heard a harsh voice radiating throughout the room. 

“Oh, for goodness sake! Can we wrap this up already?!” 

You suppressed your shudder—the aspiring actress atop the stage, however, could not, flinching at the order. 

The scoff that left the man’s lips would have made you cry many years ago. “Jesus…sweetheart, do us all a favour, and stop wasting our time. Next!” 

The poor auditioner, with crushed hopes, trudged backstage, you catching the tears lining her eyes. You could not restrain a soft gasp.

That had the man turning back.

Oh, God.

Choi Seungcheol’s eyebrows raised to his hairline.

“My, my,” he drawled, sliding his hands to his hips, blazer rising to show his shirt, suspenders attached to his trousers. “What do we have here?”

Dear Lord and His Seven Heavens—if He truly existed, He would spare you this torture, and take away your life this instant. 

You cleared your throat, matching his stare. “I’m here for the casting call.”

The director snickered at your response. “So Seungkwan wasn’t bullshitting at all,” he began, bringing out a cigar from his coat pockets, sparking it to life with his lighter. “What spurred you to take acting seriously again after your spectacular fuck-ups in LA?”

Straight to the point. “I read the parts of the script, and wanted to be involved,” you said simply. It was the truth—it was a perfect project—or perfect, from what you could gather from the limited information.

“Ah…about that.” Seungcheol took a long drag of his cigar. “I’ve decided that the next people auditioning will read something else.”

Your mouth could have dropped to the floor. “What?”

“You see, I have watched about a hundred girls drone out these perfect dialogues.” He puffed out the smoke, almost ambushing your face. “And they were all so god-awful that I now hate the scene altogether.” Snapping his fingers, a running boy brought him a new set of papers. “The rest will read from this. Including you.”

You gaped at the new script. “I haven’t prepared at all for this.”

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes on you. “You have a couple of hours to remember the lines. If you cannot complete such a simple task, then I have no need for you on my set.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you took the papers from him, scanning the lines. The iron director pointed backstage. “You can look at the lines from over there.”

You tried your best not to snap at him. Offering a tight-lipped smile, you followed the direction of his finger, going up the stairs and into the backstage area, where the rest of the aspiring actresses were situated. Each and every one of them looked as if they had received news of a personal death, with the way they paced back and forth, tears in their eyes as they read the scripts. You could not help eavesdropping, and sure enough, Seungcheol’s new decision had everyone a million times more nervous than usual.

You did not miss the last-minute changes in auditions.

Sighing, you found a spot, away from the rush of the actors, settling upon a chair next to the dozen others stacked. With a turn of the front, you decided to look at the page numbers. Hmm…page 90, 91…this meant that the scene was near the end of the movie. The scene you had practised to perfection was in the middle—the character was having an argument with her parents about seeking opportunities, and ended with them offering her one chance to discover herself outside of their abode. 

When you began to read this script, though, your blood curdled beneath your skin.

Your eyes could not stray from the words that were typed onto the paper, your fingers roughly swiping each page, disbelief growing with each dialogue that passed. You were cursing inwardly, sometimes slipping past your lips, and when you were done reading you could not help laughing uncontrollably at your luck. 

This was either the best performance you would ever carry out, or this audition would be the end of your career. 

So, with the two hours you were provided, you endeavoured to engage with the script, reading the lines you were supposed to act out over and over in your head. You tried to forget the previous script, erase it from your mind to create space for this dire piece of work, and you were mostly successful, remembering the new script’s most important bits. You scanned the scene repeatedly, saying the dialogues out loud to taste them with your tongue, trying to enact the emotion that Seungcheol had intended for his characters. 

The hours that you were offered seem to slip by much too quickly, and the director’s barking at the auditioners did not help your nerves, which were threatening to ruin your efforts. You made to steel yourself—this was not the time for panic. Do your audition, and go insane afterwards.

With the last of the actresses done, your name was called out. You got up from your chair, legs turning to jelly under you, and you made to walk out onto the stage, the huge, white tungsten lamps making your eyes water from the sheer flash. 

The director’s voice boomed beyond the stage, his face scrutinising you beneath the lights. “Last, and possibly the least!” he exclaimed, the same papers in hand which you held. When he saw you gritting your teeth, he only snickered, puffing out smoke from his cigar. “God, do scandals make you lose your sense of humour?”

“Just get the dialogue rolling,” you quipped, earning a hearty laugh from him. If you did not get this role, you will make sure to make this man’s life a living hell.

As if you have not done that for every man in your life—especially for the man that mattered.

“Right! Let me reiterate the details.” Seungcheol read out from a summary, not in your script. “The scene starts with your character, Ilsa, ending up at Richard’s door, and is going to make amends. Richard is tired of his ex’s excuses, and well…the argument is going to cement the end of their love story.” He held up his script. “I will read from Richard’s lines, and you read yours. Got it?”

When you nodded, he gave you a minute to look over the starting lines one last time. You instead dropped the papers to the floor. You closed your eyes, breathing in, breathing out, clearing your head. 

The man in your dreams was still there, greeting you with his signature smile.

You wished he was there before you. 

You imagined he would be at the far end of the theatre, seated beside the entryway stairs. He would wear his burgundy jacket, slip a beret upon his black locks, and he would watch you without saying a single word, merely admire you from the back of the room. It would have made you nervous once, but you would give anything to see him in front of you now—be it at the far end of a theatre. 

“You ready?” 

No, you said to the man in your mind.

“Yes,” you said to the man in front. 

The director called for lights, shifting slightly before focusing on you. 

“I’ll be starting in three, two, one…”

You opened your eyes.

There. 

There he was, exactly how you imagined him. His phantom gaze watched you, unsettled on the stage, and he crossed his arms, beret-ed head cocking slightly. The burgundy coat that he adorned nearly covered his face, but you could recognise him anywhere. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” you began, trying to find the words, even though you had them memorised. “I had to come back.” 

“To what? What do we have anymore to come back to?” 

Had you not been in a daze, you would have despised the monotone in Seungcheol’s delivery. He was doing it on purpose, you knew—throw the actor off.

You, however, did not need to be thrown off. 

“You’re being hasty with me, Richard,” you reasoned, eyes rooted to the back of the theatre. “You haven’t even given me the chance to speak—”

“I have given you every opportunity…or have you forgotten the last time we spoke?” A pause, meant to be a scoff—the man you stared at scoffed for the director, which went unnoticed. “Well, we didn’t speak much…not with all the shouting.”

Your hand went to your chest. “And I will take the blame if you wish so.” 

“Why thank you for your unending, sacrificial kindness.”

It was almost as if you could hear his voice instead—the very prospect made you shiver at the response. 

“Is that not what you want?” you then asked. 

“God, you still don’t get it, do you?” another baritone demanded, and it was hard, deciphering who spoke from the script, and who spoke from the heart. “It’s not about what I want, it’s about what’s right.”

“Of course you say something like that,” you sneered. “I’m only trying to make you happy.”

“Happy?” The hazy figure on the back seats shifted, almost in agitation. “Why do you care about my happiness now?”

“I’ve never not cared, Jeo—” you stopped, eyes widening. You tried to evade, “Just, just…I was so caught up with everything, and—”

“And forgot about me?”

The dialogue began to hurt—these words, residing within the script, began to tear at the seams of your soul. “I could never forget about you,” you murmured. “Even if I tried.”

There was a pause. Seungcheol, watching you stare at a specific point in the distance, turned around, seeing only the empty seats at the back. He continued the recitation, brows raised in surprise at your performance. “You were successful this time.”

“Don’t say that!” you exclaimed, taking a step forward, raising your hand out to him—you were only met with air. “Please, you have to believe me, this will be the last time—”

“How can I believe you?!” The seated illusion almost jumped from his chair. “Your words are not even a month old and suddenly you want to change them? What do you take me for?!”

“I know, I know, but I was angry, scared about what was happening!”

“So you decide to take it out on me?! And you expect me to then take it?!”

“No, no!” You began to pace back and forth, shaking your head. What was the love interest’s name, shit, if not Jeonghan, then—”My love!” you then tried, the name of the character lost to your lips. “I admit that I made a mistake. I know that I screwed it all up, and that I do not deserve you…I know that.”

You turned your head towards him again. “But I’m here now. I have let everything else go…my work, my colleagues that talked about me, still talk about me…my family who did not think you were good enough…I have left them all.”

Without quite realising, the words that slipped from your tongue began to stray from your dialogue. “I had many great things that held me back. But for you…only for you, I have come back. I am here.”

There was another beat in the script, and you watched as the actor watched you, his beautiful, haunted mouth parting. 

It was as if Jeonghan himself whispered what came next. 

“And what divine revelation brought you to me now?”

Your gaze did not go down on the man that recited the line. For all you could see, the vision you had created mouthed that question. The glimmer in his hazy eyes, waiting for you to answer him.

What divine revelation brought you to me now?

For the first time in your life, you were certain of a difficult question.

There were no revelations—no grand epiphanies, no extravagant fireworks the moment you cracked your dilemma concerning him.

No, perhaps it was the underlying truth. A fact as ancient as your relation with him, as long as the distance between the ground and the tip of the Eiffel Tower. A precious piece of evidence, always rumoured by the thousands of papers that wrote of you and him. This information, that had preyed on your mind for as long as you had known him, something that had scared you.

The truth, which had never left the crevices of your heart, even when you broke his heart five years ago, 

The script was forgotten—your heart, instead, spoke its lines. 

“I love you.”

Murmurs spread beyond the stage. 

The dream-like figure that you confessed to shifted. 

Seungcheol held his hand up to his colleagues, requesting quiet. His stare on you was inquisitive, calculating. 

“You love me?” The question was cautious—a chance to let you play out your improv. You, however, did not realise the director’s mindset. You were too lost in your own pandemonium to notice your change of script. 

“I love you,” you repeated, more desperate this time, because Yoon Jeonghan had to know. The Yoon Jeonghan, real or not real before you, had to be aware, or else all would be lost. “I never stopped, I-I don’t think I ever will stop, because I can’t love anyone else—” you halted, your throat lumping, stopping your string of speech. 

Trying to contain yourself, you cast one last stare at the man you had conjured up—who, too, was unable to tear his gaze from you—perhaps because you would not let him.

You pleaded as if it was Judgement Day. 

“Please understand. I love you.”

You snapped your eyes shut, a tear escaping as it trailed down your cheek. 

There it was—the confession that you had harboured for too long.

Your breathing was the only thing prevalent in the huge theatre, all eyes upon your crumbling figure, the legs which had not failed you before threatening to do so that very moment. But you refused to give up, not when you needed to hear his answer. 

“Maybe in the past, my dear, that would have been enough.”

Seungcheol’s final line had your heart stopping.

“Not anymore…not for me.”

Your eyes fluttered open.

The actor you had dreamt up had vanished. 

“And scene!”

Your frantic gaze darted to the director, who swiped the last page, cherry lips curling upward. “And then he closes the door on her, but we don’t need to see you act that out.” He set the script upon the table he leaned against, crossing his arms. “I must say, _____, for someone who’s been too busy ruining her career, you sure have the talent to salvage—”

“Was there someone at the back?” You pointed to the seats, precisely where your ex-lover had been—or at least you thought.

“No…you were the last person to audition with us.” He raised a brow. “I was wondering why you were looking so intently at the empty chairs, and not the man you were supposed to read your lines with.”

But you were not particularly listening to him, because you had poured out your heart only for it to fall on deaf ears. You looked to the grand doors of the exit, mind sprinting ideas, rushed plans on what to do next, what to do with these feelings—

“Now, I am certain you are aware of the procedure, but I’ll contact Seungkwan about your audition, as well as your performance this morning,” he continued, snapping his fingers to have his assistant immediately carry out the task. “Based on me not shouting you to tears, you can guess that—”

“I need to go,” you cut the greatest director in Hollywood off, your frenzied sight catching the stairs. “Thank you, um, for—” you cursed, shaking your head, trying to say something that did not revolve around him—“Seungkwan will reach out, I’ll be sure of it.” 

The man watched your behaviour, visibly shocked. “Do you understand what I am proposing right now?” 

Your rushed steps flew past him, looking at him over the shoulder. “Perfectly, so perfectly, but…”

You could not contain your smile. “I need to tend to a more important matter.”

And you left him there, aghast as you glided up the grand stairs of the theatre. You heard him mumble complaints against you, cursing the ‘young actors and their recklessness’, but this time, you could only laugh, because maybe he was right, maybe you were being reckless and wild and stupid, but you did not care.

For once in your life, you did not care.

It only took a few minutes to navigate the exit of the opera house, the light at the end of the grand tunnel glowing brighter and brighter. Bursting out of the Palais, you hissed when you saw the sun out in full swing, glaring down at you with great offence—almost as if it knew that you blamed its enlightening rays for the separation between you and Jeonghan, and reminded you of who was truly at fault.

You admitted your wrongdoings—you admitted them wholeheartedly, and now you must make amends.

Scanning the road before you, you realised there were no cabs nearby. Fuck, you instantly thought, breaking into a hurried walk as you scoured your surroundings, any car for hire that might turn up. 

At this point, the morning population was gathering. Because you were the unluckiest woman in the world, anyone who looked in your direction a little too closely recognised you at once.

“Oh my God, is that—”

“What is _____ doing around here?”

At one point, you would have died hearing their comments, but you had greater concerns in your mind—those concerns first began with how to get to your destination.

That was when a large, box-like bus rushed past you, slowing to rest beside the Palais Garnier stop.

Your eyes squinted at the back for its details.

041095 — GARE DE L’EST. 

By God. Jeonghan’s apartment was on the way to the East Station.

You did not know whether this was a blessing or a curse.

“Here goes,” you murmured.

After garnering every atom of strength you could find in your body, you devoured it in one moment as you burst into a sprint.

Gasps were heard around you as you ran towards the bus,which was accepting the last of the passengers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you kept cursing out, your feet beginning to hurt by the sheer force of your flight. 

You were already aware that you were a failing actress—you did not need to be a failing athlete along with it.

With pure horror you watched as the last couple entered the bus, gathering at the open deck of its back. There were people within that open deck looking at you in shock, certain that you would not reach the standing area in time.

But you were on a mission to prove people wrong. After all this time, you were not going to let them win—even if it may be over something as menial as running for the bus.

As soon as the carriage began to move, you reached your hand out, fingers aching to touch the railing.

Just before it could drive away into the city, you grabbed onto the pole. 

With a groan you hoisted yourself upon the deck, stumbling across the fragile floors. The onlookers stepped away from you as you gathered yourself, gulping down a world’s worth of oxygen. You held onto the railings, fearing that if you let go you would be ripped away from the bus, although it was an irrational thought.

The surprised looks were still upon you.

You tilted your head up at one of them. “Quoi?” you demanded. “What?”

Instantly, the rest seemed to avert their gazes, finding the scenery of central Paris much more alluring than a walking Hollywood scandal.

At least they were not going to bother you now.

You were thankful to be at the back, avoiding the calls for showing tickets in the interior of the bus. Your hands gripped the poles, attached to the extended roof as you passed the Champs-Élysées, each stop making you more restless. If his apartment was not an hour away on foot, then you would have ran there yourself. 

Soon enough, you oversaw the distant view of the Eiffel Tower, watching your journey over the Seine. You were close—you remembered that Jeonghan lived across the great river, just so he could catch a glimpse of the famed landmark from his apartment balcony.

Once the bus stopped outside the Passy underground, you quickly stepped off the deck, eyes darting to the signs that directed you to the nearby park. You followed it blindly, the route to the destination coming together, like lost pieces of an old puzzle, finally being solved. You had become restless, almost savage in your trail to find him; the more civilians that recognised you, the more shocked they were at your appearance, wondering out loud at how someone like you could run around Paris in such a manner.

You were laughing at them all. You did not care.

Finding the residential park, you sprinted through the orderly trees, catching the giggles of children in your ears as your eyes spotted the apartment building, right in front of you. So close, you were so fucking close—

Exiting the confines of the garden, you burst through the apartment complex. It was simple, almost rundown, a shocking residential for someone who had tasted the luxury of seven-star hotels. The once painted walls were crackling on your present floor, distant arguments in French muffled beyond the doors. 

You knew instantly that this was not the floor.

Taking the stairs beside you, you immediately took two in one heap, almost flying to the top till you reached the second floor. However, you remember distinctly how much you used to complain whenever you would come here, how you would tire of this horrid journey, and you knew that the second floor had arrived too quickly.

A part of you resented the beautiful asshole for renting a place so high-up the complex.

After what felt like a million flights of stairs later, you reached the top floor, your clothes sticking to your skin, sweating through the fabric. Your tired gaze fell on the multiple identical doors, trying to recall which one had your ex-lover behind them. 

Your hands settled on the back of your hips, closing your eyes. Think, think! you tried to remember, the reminiscences of his living room, the walls decked with paintings and memorabilia, the bedroom where he ended and you began.

Ten minutes in, pacing back and forth the hallway, ready to collapse on the floor. 

That was when you heard the distant music.

“That’s why…darling…it’s incredible…”

More importantly, the distant voice.

“That someone…so unforgettable…” 

The voice was not of the original singer—no, it was a voice that had stayed with you forever, a voice that sounded much more melancholy than the song let on.

“Thought that I was…unforgettable…too…”

You parted your mouth.

You knew exactly which door the sweet song came from.

Your feet dashed towards the distant humming, right at the end of the long hallway. The door on the far right was the one, and your hand could not fly up quickly enough.

The knocks on the door could have had the entire complex shaking in its foundations.

“Jeonghan!” 

The song softened to an end. 

The other side of the door was silenced.

“Jeonghan!” you tried again, fists rocking on the wood. “Please open the door! I need to speak to you!”

As you shouted, pleaded, your ears picked up soft footsteps from the other side. You latched onto this. “I can hear you from there, please! Please Jeonghan, just hear me out!”

You waited anxiously, as if you were in hospital expecting tragic news, or a convict awaiting sentence. He may have been silent now, because you could hear a single shuffle on the opposite end. 

Of course he did not want to speak to you. 

And although he had every right to be silent, you knew that your right to be a bystander had long disappeared. So you began, in hopes he had not secluded further into his apartment.

“Look, I know what I said last time we had spoken—well, argued, really, I know that I said some horrible things, and it’s selfish of me to even bring it up again, but…they have haunted me ever since I made the mistake of hurting you that day.”

You were not quite sure of the exact words, but you had to have faith in your feelings. “I was cruel to you that day, Jeonghan. I said things to purposefully harm you, and expected you to be fine with me the very next day. I became scared, you know, when the press exposed us, because all I was doing was thinking about myself.” Your scoff cut off your speech. “I realise I do that a lot…think only of myself.

“And I know this is no excuse, but I had been abandoned so many times that I had to prioritise myself for so long. I was not used to your selflessness, your unending kindness…perhaps because I did not deserve it, but you offered it to me, and I happily took it.”

A hard sigh. “Truth is, it’s me who has not moved on.”

Something shifted on the other side. 

“You were right. I destroyed this relationship five years ago, and the worst thing is, I did it for the people who did not care for me. For my career, my fans…my fame.” 

“I thought I was fine…I thought, well, all this bitterness, this frustration I have felt for so long in my life…I thought this entire time that it was because I lost my glory.” Your head shook slightly. “But I was wrong. My life took a turn for the worse the moment I lost you.” 

You paused, hoping he would have something to say.

Nothing.

“You may be thinking why I have had this sudden revelation, considering it has arrived so late, but I think the night I saw you at the Louvre…you know, with those sculptures and that talk about love and loss…something came alive in me that day. Even when you were in my room, when we were drinking too much, my confession was still honest. I did miss you…fuck, I do miss you, a-and it only made everything so much more difficult.”

Still not a word.

Spirits slowly sinking, you leaned your forehead against the door, closing your eyes. “I have been a coward, though, this entire time. My fear of the press overshadowed my feelings, and in turn I hurt you in false hope to save myself…for the second time, I have hurt you, and I don’t even know how I can ever make it up to you…but I can say this.”

This time, with both hands flat beside you, you pressed your forehead against the door.

“I’m sorry.”

A pause. 

“I’m sorry for everything I have done. ‘I’m sorry for five years ago, and for these past few weeks. I’m sorry for toying with your feelings, Jeonghan, even though you were so dear to me, and I’m sorry for allowing my securities to reign over your affections.”

You closed your eyes. 

“Please forgive me.”

You stopped yourself, lest the lump in your throat robbed you of your voice. If Jeonghan was still listening, he would realise the waver in your speech. You could not cry at him—that would not be fair.

You did not know how long you stood there, almost sagged against the creaking wood, praying to every entity imaginable to hear a single reply of your confessions. As more time passed, the more you revisited your words, taking them apart, finding faults in them. You became half-mad that you should not have said anything at all, and made the greatest mistake of your life in running back to him.

But what else could you have done? Continued in your self-destructive, self-sabotaging ways till they cemented an early demise? How could you have lived with yourself, knowing that you let the great love of your life slip through your sin-stained fingers, and survived? Even now, you were anxious beyond repair, waiting hopelessly for an answer that might not arrive, but you knew as well as anyone that if you had simply gone back to the hotel after your audition, then everything you had ever lived for would amount to nothing.

And so, you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

You were almost unable to withhold your tears when you heard the door creaking—as if a presence straightened themselves from the other side.

Then, the hesitant unlocking of the knob. 

Your instincts bid you step away as the door opened, and you could not restrain the haggard sigh that escaped you as you set your sight upon him.

Jeonghan looked every bit as frenzied as you were.

The mystical elegance that he exuded so naturally had almost disappeared when you caught the ghostly hue of his skin, the slight bags under his eyes. Even his mouth lost a little colour, his hair in a wild, unruly frizz. It was frightening, seeing him look so different to how he always presented himself.

Another consequence of your actions.

You could barely get his name out of your lips.

“J-Jeonghan…”

He was staring and staring, not quite believing what he was seeing—nor what he heard.

I’m sorry.

He had never heard an apology from you. 

In his entire time of knowing you, admiring you, loving you, mourning you, his ears were never graced with apologies or requests of forgiveness from you. Perhaps because you were not used to someone confronting your behaviour—or simply because of your own, unintentional arrogance—but you had never been forced to recognise your behaviour, and so had grown immune to the morally ambiguous actions of your past. 

So to hear you utter the words…he thought at first that you were not there in front of him, near tears in your eyes, admitting to what you had done to him.

“What caused this?”

He had to ask you the origins of such a declaration.

“Why are you here now?”

You could have shuddered—how similar he sounded to the words on the script you had just memorised.

You told him yourself, albeit with caution. “I…I was auditioning, actually…you know, the Seungcheol movie I talked about before…” Before the press—the fight. Before the separation. “There was a scene and…I was screaming, begging for the man to come back, but he strayed, despite my best efforts…”

The actor’s voice turned harsh. “So I reminded you of a scene? A story of fiction, a fantasy?”

“No!” you began, almost reaching out to hold his hand, but you stopped yourself—you did not have the right. “No, Jeonghan, it was so similar, I just…I saw you in the theatre as I said my lines! I saw you, heard your voice recite the responses. I thought I was going mad, and then I did when I stopped following the script, and confessed to you!” The memory made you a little sheepish. “Then I realised you were not there, and so here I am…”

But he was turning on his heel, walking back into the room as he shook his head. “Wait, Jeonghan!” you exclaimed, following after him, not realising your surroundings, the nostalgia of entering the private sphere of the most public man in the world. “Wait, it wasn’t a fantasy!” He was walking further, into another room. “Damn it, I left the audition before Seungcheol could even provide any feedback!” 

He looked back. “You did what?”

“I ran away from the theatre before anyone could say anything! I swear to you, I ran after a bus to the station, a bus that led me here.” You were frantic again, desperate. “I am sure I have fucked up this audition, the entire city saw me running to you, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if Seungcheol spreads the word of my terrible improv, I will laugh when the press writes about my crazy episode of coming here…” Anxiously, you kept shaking your head, trying to steady your voice. “I don’t care anymore, Jeonghan. Not about them…”

The film noir star could only take in the confession, more shocking than everything you had said before. 

You left the sanctuary of your privacy for him.

You had abandoned possibly the only chance for a revival of your fame to seek him out.

You, who would have rather died than show yourself to the public in these dark times, had faced its scrutiny for him.

He did not know whether to fall to his knees or laugh in disbelief. 

“I know you’re shocked,” you murmured, hugging yourself tightly. “You have every right to be, especially that I’m dumping this on you all of a sudden…but, it’s for you. I did it all for you.”

Falling silent, you watched the anarchy on his haunted features, his head dipping, curls falling along his movements. It was within this tensioned quiet that you finally allowed yourself to scour your environment; Jeonghan’s apartment remained the same as you had last seen it—you did not realise you had followed him into his bedroom, a myriad of dark blues, greys and blacks coating the walls, carpeting the floor, the only light being the lamplights, brighter with the setting of the sun. 

Upon the large, night-cloaked bed, was a newspaper stark against the black sheets. As you read the France-Soir headline, you heard him speak.

“Did you think I wanted to hide away too?”

Your eyes stayed on the newspaper. 

“Ignore your calls, wave Seungkwan off when he mentioned you, watch you suffer? Do you think I wanted it to come to this?”

You allowed yourself a quick glance at him. He continued, “I’m sure you’ve read about the absence by now. You know me well enough to know that I never miss a single press tour, let alone the premiere.”

“Then why did you not go?”

His stare upon you was grave. “I was not the only one suffering in this separation.”

Oh.

Right.

Quickly you averted your eyes from the dreaded papers, instead focusing on the memorabilia surrounding his private sphere. The walls were plastered with posters of various movies, his promotional shots, as well the fan letters many had sent him in his career. Another board beside his bed was littered with a hundred photos, memories of his friends, his co-stars, and his family. 

“I don’t want to hurt like that…like this anymore. The years when we were apart…” he could not even finish his musings, turning away to put his hand on the study. 

You could not say another word, hoping he would keep speaking—because if he stopped speaking, then there was nothing left between you and him.

And that was too terrifying a thought.

“I missed the premiere, _____, because for the first time in my life, I could not face the public.” 

Jeonghan forced down the nerves bubbling in his throat. “What you said that day…although I had heard it before, all that time ago, I still did not know how to handle myself. Funny, is it not, that I was able to survive the cruelty of the media five years back, but one fight with you, and I completely broke down…”

Once again, you felt his words knife your soul. “I…” He licked his lips, so at loss with himself. “I don’t want to relive those moments again…I can’t relive it.”

You were such a coward, unable to look at the anguish in his face. You kept staring at the wall of memories, scouring the faces the actor held dear enough to keep them in his room forever. 

It was in that particular moment, when he closed his eyes, that your own found something extraordinary.

“Oh my God.”

The actor looked up. 

With a hesitance in his step, he walked over to where you were rooted to the ground, gawking at a specific picture.

When his line of sight found the photo, he too, widened his eyes.

Before you, right in the middle of Jeonghan’s pictured-memories, was a photograph of you.

It was you, face glowing with awe as you admired your favourite sculpture, cut away from the picture’s borders. You knew precisely when this moment was captured—your first ever Paris trip, taken mere weeks after beginning your romance with the man in this room. You had chastised him for taking the picture, demanding he rip it from his camera, but he had teased you so relentlessly for your innocent admiration, that he vowed never to destroy it.

Your question from the exhibition, at least, had been answered. 

This was enough to make your vision blurry again.

You were so caught up in the picture that when he spoke again, you almost jumped. 

“Why are you surprised to see it there?”

Blinking back the tears, you tried to voice your shock. “I can’t…I can’t believe you didn’t throw it away.”

He kept looking at the photograph. “I keep my promises, _____.”

This time, you glanced at him.“Sometimes I pretend that we are back in the Louvre,” he said, a ghost of a smile creeping onto his mouth, the more he inspected the photo. “Seeing Psyche and Cupid for the first time…back when we didn’t care about anything. Back when things like the press or the public didn’t stop us.”

You damned the cowardice. “It can be like that again.”

He faced you. “Could it?” His eyes were laced with uncertainty. “Last time I remembered, you were ready to give everything up for the public.”

“I know…I know what I said, and believe me when I say I regret it.”

You willed your hands at your sides, setting your gaze at the man who was losing faith. “Jeonghan, when I was running away from the audition, seeing everyone’s shock and judgement as I rushed to you, I did not feel anxious. Honestly, I was relieved. I did not care, because all I was anxious for was seeing you, and begging for your forgiveness.

“I thought I could sacrifice everything to have my popularity back…yes, the first weeks in Paris were not perfect…day and night I ached for the affections of the press, the people, but…” You recalled the fated nights. “By some fortune, you came back into my life.”

A small step forward—an effort to close the imminent distance between you both—a distance you had created. “You said before, didn’t you? That you had lost me once, and could not lose me again?” 

This time, you could not control the waver in your voice. “It was never you who lost me…it was I who was foolish enough to lose you. I spent so long listening to the people who did not know me, that I forgot about the man who knows me more than I know myself.”

He was shell-shocked, unable to stop, and did not want to stop your shaking hands, which raised to hold his face. 

“I am done living by the opinions of others. I love you, and I will always be sorry for never showing it enough…never again will I make the same mistake.”

Only when you quietened, bearing your heart to him, that you finally noticed his ragged breathing, the hard rise and fall of his chest—the tears that spilled from his stunned eyes. He could hardly speak, perfect brows knitting, a million thoughts running through his head in the seconds that he stared. 

You watched the anarchy on his face, anticipating the worst. 

“Jeonghan?”

His name upon your lips was the last straw. 

The greatest film star in the world grabbed your waist with both hands and pulled you in. 

The kiss that welcomed you freed you of every worry you had ever harboured.

You almost moaned in relief, instantly wrapping yourself around him as you reciprocated. Your mouth moved along with his, an age-old rhythm that you had mastered only with him, because he was the only one who could render you putty in his hold. You could taste the salt of his tears, which had travelled down to his mouth, and your fingers upon his cheeks tightened—tightening because you were the reason for these tears, and never again would you let this dear man weep silently over you. 

Jeonghan’s desperation, in the way he tugged your hips so close that it snuffed out the remaining distance, tied to his own hips, was much too obvious. You had never even realised how much he had waited for you, yearned for you as the entire world watched his every movement.

He had never tasted chaos as bitter as when he was apart from you. 

You broke his heart that day in your hotel room—he knew, deep down, that you were regressing into your ancient fears, but that time, he did not think he could wait for you again. Five long, hard, aching years, he could only watch you from a distance, lest the papers tear you apart as they did him. Five years he witnessed firsthand your steady destruction, the alliances turning against your image as you ruined yourself to the industry; all that time, he stood and did nothing, because he knew that you had sealed your fate the moment you abided by the rules of Hollywood.

But he was lying if he said he had not languished over you. 

When he found you in the dark hallways of the Louvre, looking for Psyche and Cupid reuniting all those weeks ago, he first believed himself following a whimsical script, written by the subconscious, aching wisps of his heart. He could not help indulging in you, wanting you so desperately it was as if he had never aged in your separation. He could not even expose how many times he had relived the first stages of your relationship—how many times he had captured the same photo you had stared mere minutes ago. 

So when you came knocking on your door as if your life depended on it, admitting to your mistakes…how could he not accept—no, delight in your changed behaviour? Of course, nothing could have described his devastation in the past weeks, but your promises to him was all he wished for—all he ever needed in his life. 

So as Jeonghan pushed you back, drinking the desire that spilled from your mouth, clumsy in his steps, he needed you to realise that he would never leave—even if you hurt him a thousand times over. 

Your back hit the wall, the impact breaking away from his mouth—your momentary gasps gave him enough incentive to latch onto your neck, his s every soft kiss planted making you whimper. Perhaps any other rendezvous would have been so much more hectic—full of rage and excitement, but this was so different. What used to be broken curses on heated skin, promises of ruination had become soft murmurs, half-voiced questions of going further, prayers of thanks to whatever you two believed in which brought the two of you back together. 

Slowly, with every love bite softly carved by his teeth, his hands were also working slyly, sliding to the buttons of your black trousers. Your own hands sought refuge in his curls, the frenzied frizz of his black locks which felt like home underneath your fingers. Only when he successfully unbuttoned the front, feeling his mouth leave your neck and make a trail down your chest did you falter. Dipping your head to see him kiss your clothed abdomen, he descended on his knees, facing the unbuttoned glory of the trousers. 

Fingers hooking to the waistband, he tugged your trousers down, all the way to your ankles where you shed them from your feet, legs now bare before him. His changing expression had you gulping down at his image.

With trembling fingers he skimmed your skin till they found the waistband on your sides. Slowly, too slowly for you, he tugged them down, savouring the sight till your cunt was on show, and you could have been snuffed out from the look in his eyes as they sparked to life. 

You had almost forgotten how extraordinary he looked in this position. 

His curls barely touched your thighs, shifting closer as he blew a gush of air towards your core, relishing the shiver that he felt through your body. 

“Jeonghan…” You were so on edge, holding the wall. “What are you stalling for?”

His words fanned your cunt—fluttering you alive. “You said…did you not? That you had been selfish?” 

His head tilted upwards, catching your daze. “Is it not my turn to indulge?” 

You could have collapsed to the floor. 

“May I?” he asked you, a mere breath.

Because you could not say a word, you could only nod, a little too enthusiastically. 

Jeonghan’s tongue sliding past your slit had you closing your eyes.

He collected the arousal that glistened, languid in his process—he dared not quicken too quickly, fearing a rushed ending, terrified he would ruin something he had recreated in his dreams. Your taste, your hypnotic taste was even finer than the arousal he had lapped up in his mind, separating your legs even further to fully capture you in his mouth. His tongue had struck liquid treasure, journeying up your folds, and your breathing turned even, harsher with every stroke.

Your breaths then hitched entirely when he stumbled upon your clit. 

His tongue and your clit could have been soulmates, the way he latched onto the bud, circling like an enthusiastic dog around its owner. He was a broken record, singing the same lamentations of how long he had been waiting to devour you, but he could not stop himself. He hummed at the reactions that elicited from your own tongue. Every little sound that escaped from you was further motivation, a confirmation that you had not moved on from his touches.

And how could you have done?

The memories were flooding in the hazy gates of your mind, flashbacks of him kneeling in all corners of the world—sucking on your clit in the darkness of the London bars, stuffing his face in the districts of Bangkok, unravelling you in the gardens of Marrakech. Which continent had he not travelled to delve within you, both of you always drunk out of your minds, but never quite forgetting the passions that still remained rampant to this day.

Now, in this small, Parisian apartment, with no one to dare spy on the two of you—no one but the posters on the walls, or the pictures on the board—the film noir star could rest easy, stone cold sober, as he glided his tongue on your bundle of nerves. He gripped your thighs, his jaw opening wider, and your legs threatened to buckle from under you. 

He was giving his all, his ministrations laced with a helplessness you had never sensed before. As if you were going to slip away from him, he held onto you with a certain determination, almost as if in any second, you would run away again, break his heart for the last time.

That could have broken your own soul.

Your hands went to his hair, carding through the mess of curls, ruining them even more. You held onto him because you needed him to understand that you were not going anywhere, not anymore. Your fingers, threading into his locks, making him feel your presence—he had to get through his head that your screw ups ended at this moment. 

When he began to quicken at your touches, you would have abandoned every bad decision you thought of ever making. 

You stole a glance down, blinking heavily back at the sight. 

It was like the image of a holy man, kneeling at the altar of his god; perhaps more would have resorted to religion if they saw the way Jeonghan worshipped you with his mouth, over and over again like a neverending mass. 

Seeing him speeding up his rhythm firsthand had your whimpers gaining a voice, the small of your back tensing up. You were constricting, fidgeting much harder in his grasp. 

If his tongue was not enough, then the man let one of your sides free from his grip. Those fingers then crept closer, his mouth never stopping as he slipped one inside. The surprise of the digit entering had you gasping, the hold on his hair unsteady as it nearly filled you up. 

You delighted in its presence, even more so when you felt the pleasure of it leaving you. Your walls began to pulsate when the finger came back, a steady pattern Jeonghan knew was your favourite. You suppose it should not have been such a surprise, but he knew you too damn well. He knew which little things would make you lose your very senses, follow his trail till the end of time.

He was faster now, leading you closer and closer to your release, which felt so imminent. You could almost taste its remnants, the dull ache threatening to course through your body.

“J-Jeonghan—!” you got out, shaking in his hold, even in your speech. “I’m so—fuck, I’m so close—”

But you did not have to say a single word, because he could sense your incoming release, controlled by his fingers, his tongue. To know he held the power of your undoing thrilled him.

Even after all this time, you followed the melody of his music, and no one else’s.

Your ex-lover softly teethed your clit, his finger diving into you to the knuckle.

You could not restrain yourself any longer. 

With a final gasp you let yourself go, your orgasm singing your body to life, freeing you from the dull throbbing caused by his truly. The constriction snapped, and your legs could not take you anymore—you would have collapsed on the ground had his hand on your hip not stopped the fall.

Quickly sliding his finger out, you felt hollow with his tongue leaving too. As he pulled away, holding you on both sides, he let you slide down till you were at level with him. 

You stole a peek at his slick finger, then his slicker lips. You parted yours when he licked his mouth, savouring the taste of you. 

“You have no idea,” he began, voice much raspier, “How long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

But you could not respond to him, legs still numb, mouth still slightly agape by the frenzied sight of him. You thought you were done, but then he confided this to you, and all the desire that you thought had been released was churning once again. 

How manic you had become, how insatiable your hunger had transformed for him—exactly how he had prayed at your altar, you could have clasped your hands in devotion before him, begging him to never stop.

So you tried to muster this urgency when you asked him, quietly, but not softly, “Then why have you stopped here?” 

You brought your hands to his face, relishing in the warmth of his cheeks. “Have we not…not waited far too long to come to this?”

He leaned in further, nodding absentmindedly as he stared at your lips. “Too fucking long, mon ange.” 

And he swooped in once more, enveloping your lips with his, because it was not enough, and he needed more. Thank God his thirst had not satiated, because you did not think you would have retained your sanity had he been done then and there. You were still reeling over from your release, only just finding feeling in your legs. Even so, perhaps you did not even need feeling, because, as he was sliding his tongue through the seam of your lips, his hands found refuge under your knees, your back. 

His mouth drowned out your gasp as you were lifted in his arms, you instinctively wrapping your arms around him as he led you to his midnight-clouded bed. Gently he settled upon the soft sheets, laying you down as he broke away for a fleeting moment. 

He was making to take his shirt off, fingers resting on the hem when you stopped him, hands on his.

“Let me,” you whispered. “Let me do at least one thing for you.”

Jeonghan blinked back, catching the gentle request in your eyes. He could not have accepted fast enough, pressing kisses to the corners of your lips, your jaw as your wavering hands raised the shirt off him, tossing it to the side. You caught the sight of his slender frame, and could not stop yourself as your fingers skimmed the soft skin of his abdomen. To think no one had seen the sliver of his shoulders, let alone the waist-up nakedness—no television screen, no secret reporter had captured him the way he was over you, watching you admire him shamelessly. He could only raise his groomed brows at you, tugging at your own shirt, which was buttoned to the top. 

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmured, unbuttoning the layers one by one. “Or I couldn’t…I could never leave.”

As your shirt accompanied his, you asked him, voice barely out as he drank in the lace of your bra, “Do you want to?” 

But his finger was trailing the hem of your strap, urging you to lift yourself only a little as he unclipped it with one hand, all the while watching the hesitance of your own fingers as you pulled his trousers down. His eyes may have darted all over your bare figure, your shifting demeanour, but he did not waver. Even as the last of his layers were being uncovered, peeling away his trousers, his boxer briefs, no one tried to shy away, even when there was nothing left to hide away in for the two of you.

You supposed seeing Yoon Jeonghan naked should have burst you into cinders. 

Sure, you were heating up at the mere sight of him, but an overwhelming nostalgia washed over your mind—it was as if your heart, too, was moving strangely along with the thrums of your desire. It had been so long, and you did not—could not—even comprehend finding yourself at this stage. Even your ex-lover’s stare had faltered, turning heavy-lidded. 

Finally…finally he was experiencing the events of his dreams.

As he towered over you, guiding his cock that you could not stop looking at, his other hand found a home at your hips. He could hardly focus, the memories of your first time with him, and so many times afterwards, rushing with his one move. The tip teased your entrance, staining it with your returning arousal, and you hitched in a sharp breath.

No—you should not look at Jeonghan like he was the last piece of the puzzle of your happiness, as if he held the power to salvage the destruction you had caused. You asked him, in that sweet hushed whisper that raised his temperature, whether you would ever leave him, and it could have pained him that you had to ask in the first place. 

“Never,” he rasped out, curls moving along his face as he drifted closer. “Leave you…?” He shook his head slowly, his nose brushing yours with every shake. “Never again.”

With that, he indulged in his greatest fantasy, one he harboured the moment he declared his love for you.

His cock slid further inside, and you gripped his shoulder, a whimper prying out of your mouth without any restraint. God, he was filling you up, more so than you imagined. Maybe you had not made love to anyone in such a while, and had forgotten the feeling.

But you had not forgotten sex with Jeonghan—or at least you thought, because nothing could have braced you for the feeling of him inside you.

“There,” he said softly, a phantom smile appearing as he bottomed out in you, ragged breathing exposing. “Just like that, mon ange.” He raised his fingers to your mouth, thumb playing with your lip. “Need you to…ah, moan just like that.”

“Jeonghan…” you murmured, too bewildered by the feeling of your walls clenching around him to respond to his broken whispers. “So good…feels so good.”

His smile could have cured all your heartache. “Good,” he said, the soft plush of his mouth caressing yours. Even with all the distance snuffed out, he completely engulfed you with his presence, his locks tickling your cheeks. You could not breathe any oxygen, but the man above you, labouring inside of you…could oxygen not be replaced by his presence? Could you not have inhaled his very scent into your bones, lived off the desire sparking in his wild eyes?

Then, he began to pull out, tilting his back head slightly to watch your pupils dilating, brows drawing together, gasping slightly at the feeling. He wished he could bottle the moment, necklace the image and perch it on his heart forever. You were so in sync to his movements, reacting so well to his cock, that he wondered whether you were made just for him. A selfish pondering, of course, but Jeonghan’s newfound greed seemed to overwhelm him. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered to you, voice lowering an octave as he kept moving, creating a rhythm so spellbinding you could not help following along. “You look so…so beautiful under me, I—”

He thrust inside you again once he was barely teasing your folds, and you swore he hit a spot that had you seeing stars. Perhaps you could have transcended into another world, another galaxy which was made just for the two of you—no one would watch over you and him, and you could bask in each other forever, without the prying eyes of the world you were in. His knitted brows, his heavy-lidded eyes, dazing over—his slick, parted mouth, his unruly hair, matting with sweat. Everything you scrutinised, painting him in your mind so you could never forget, putting this Jeonghan on the pedestal of your memories. 

Too long—too long you had simply lived in the past.

It was time for you to live in the present.

Wrapping your legs around him, you took him in even deeper, hands sliding up from his shoulder to his face, caressing his raven locks on the way. “Look at you,” he kept saying, because he still could not believe you were here, taking him so well, eliciting sounds that could have had the dead flustered in their graves. “So pretty while you take my cock—ah!” He could not even finish properly, his mind clouding. His own interruption stirred something dark, something delicious inside you.

He was moving a little quicker, gliding the two of you upon midnight sheets. “Faster, mon ange?” he asked you between kisses. You nodded enthusiastically, without even realising, and he chuckled slightly, fanning your face. “No, darling, I…words, I need your words.”

You did not think you could even muster a single thing to oblige him, but the familiar feeling, pulsating at the small of your back, returned. “Faster, please,” you got out, and he obliged you, fastening his pace—the moment your whimpers morphed into pants, he knew he was doing something right. Once he quickened, the dull thrum slowly returned, barely even noticeable at first. Because the man inside you knew you more than you knew yourself, he was aware just how to bring you to that moment.

But he was going to cherish this first.

Even while he picked up the pace, a part of him was too terrified to let these moments end. 

Already you could barely form full sentences, and he knew that soon, he would sense your very release impending. You were so good to him, so exceptional, better than all the dreams he had experienced in dark nights from years ago. You were quite possibly everything he had secretly hoped, and to think he had only glimpses in these years…he would make sure to never have you doubt him again.

“Close,” you began, losing a slight grip on your senses with his pattern, his cock that you had not realised you missed. “I-I’m close—”

But he could tell from impeding moans, drowning out his own breathless grunts, slowly losing his own control over his movements. He nodded hurriedly, fastening some more.

This time, his thrusts became erratic, all of his praises incoherent as he teethed love-bites onto your skin, burying his face in your shoulder. He whispered sweet praises in your ear as he pounded into you, and you were certain that you would never regain sanity again after all of this was over. If his cock was not enough, then he brought his fingers into the midst, prodding at your clit to entice even more pleasure. You were whining onto his skin, his mouth, needing him to undo you before you burst under his hold.

“F-fuck, angel,” he breathed out, all his strength being used in pleasuring you fully. “Even more beautiful than my dreams—!” 

It was not as if you were making it any easier for him.

No, the film noir star was breaking, tearing at the seams, because you were moaning sweet nothings to him, words he could not make out, until you chanted his name. Jeonghan! Jeonghan! Jeonghan! you kept begging, and it dawned on him that all his devotion was finally reaping its reward. You, a star who had never bowed to anyone, were thrashing and shaking from his touches, pleading for release only he could bestow, and now, he was the altar you prayed to with a sinner’s desperation. 

Because the two of you had finally found each other after fate had tried to pull you apart, he would listen. Because, after years of separation, a plethora of misunderstandings, untold feelings, and an infinite amount of silences gone far too long, he would finally break these horrid curses.

Because the man was utterly in love with you, he would never dismiss your pleas.

So, with one final collision of his lips against yours, he worked overtime as his cock plunged into you one last time, your bundle of nerves never resting from the circling of his fingers. 

You cried onto his shoulder as your orgasm crashed through, electric as it pulsed through your body, legs shaking under his hands. Blinking hurriedly, you felt him slither out of you, just in time for his own orgasm. He stained his midnight sheets of his release, collapsing right next to you with a soft, low curse. 

As the two of you tried to recover from your ministrations, both chests unevenly rising, falling, arms touching, you stared up at the ceiling, your heart pumping in your ears.

Oh my God.

You could not believe it. 

After what felt like twenty lifetimes, you had finally found Jeonghan—found him, and managed to keep him, despite everything.

Your old habits would have you doubting this whole event happened, but even you knew you should allow yourself this happy certainty. 

You gazed at the black walls, the small lights in the middle. As the blood pumping in your ears began to simmer down, you heard more clearly his broken huffs—the beginnings of a laugh that barely bubbled out of his mouth.

Catching onto it, you turned on your side, looking at his closed eyes, and the corner of his lips which curved upwards. “What’s the laugh for?” 

Although he swayed his head, as if waving off your question, he spoke up after a moment. “I just…I can’t believe you ran after a bus for me.”

When he caught the exasperation on your face, he almost glowed with amusement. “I nearly fell off the back of it, too,” you grated out, almost creasing from the memory. “Everybody just gawked as I got on.”

He shifted, facing you. “I suppose it is not everyday you see a famous actress running after public transport.”

“Infamous, more like,” you corrected. “Well…it is pointless now…” you paused, biting your lip. “I suppose I shall have to get used to it…”

A slight tick of his head. “How so?”

“Seungcheol will never give me the part,” you explained in dejection. When you looked at him, though, you tried to smile. “But truly, it doesn’t matter anymore. I would give it up for you again.”

The man twisted his mouth, but not particularly in a smile. “My dear, I don’t want you to give up your livelihood for me.”

He propped his head in his hand, elbow resting on his pillows. “All I want is for you to realise that you can have everything should you wish it. You do not need to discard the people you love to continue to watch you enjoy.”

You took in his comments. “But Jeonghan,” you said, a little nervous, “What if…” Sighing, you mustered some strength. “Jeonghan, what if you do not like this version of me? The one who might always be a little scared of facing everyone?”

When you saw an untamed grin morphing his beautiful mouth, you had the nerve to be slightly irritated. “What?”

Reaching out, he held your chin between his fingers, “Do you really have to ask me of my feelings after what we have just done?”

He felt the warmth spreading to your face beneath his tongue, furthering his delight. “_____,” he said, “You travelled half of Paris to find me, despite your fears. You braved the daylight for me, angel, when all you found safety was in the darkness of midnight.”

His eyes were wild and free and intense and alive. “I love you, chérie. I loved you the moment I set my eyes on you in that afterparty, and I will never stop…I don’t think I could stop.”

You parted your mouth.

But then you had to close it again, because your heartbeat fluttered out of your skin, your vision going blurry.

This time, it was not the alcohol ruining it, but the blasted tears returning.

“Jeonghan,” you rasped out, resting a shaking hand over his collarbone, “I-I love you so much—”

Before the waterworks completely took over you, the film noir star leaned in, tilting his head as he enveloped his lips with yours, cherishing the hums that left you. 

Jeonghan was not leaving.

He saw the worst, and had decided to stay.

You were so scared—terrified that today would mark the worst moments of your life, but of course, this enigmatic man had saved you once again. You were sure that you would never be able to repay the debts of his kindness, but you finally realised that this came naturally when you were the object of one’s affections.

You did not realise that you were the sole receiver.

You felt yourself smiling against his mouth.

Jeonghan did not ever have to worry again—that was for sure.

Because, after the waiting, the anguish, this bubbling of anticipation, the storm had passed in the end. You were here, right next to the man you had never quite stopped feeling for.

And you knew that, despite whatever the press, the public, anyone threw at the two of you now, you and Jeonghan would survive it.

It was like you confessed—you could sacrifice the universe.

You could not sacrifice Jeonghan.

Yoon Jeonghan—the greatest film star alive, the most beloved object of the world’s affections, your once ex-lover.

Well.

Not an ex anymore.

LE FRANCE-SOIR, 14TH JANUARY, 1955

THE PRINCESS OF HOLLYWOOD’S SURPRISING RETURN IN SEUNGCHEOL FILM!

Yes, you read it right—our very own infamous star, _____, is back in our papers, but this time, she has saved herself! Our sources tell us that she has landed herself the lead role in a Choi Productions film, and is set to be the biggest release of this year! Who would have thought that with everything she had done, and experienced the consequences of, she would be back to dominate our screens! 

As well as her films, she seems to have excelled in her romantic liaisons! Here are some exclusive pictures of her and her old flame Jeonghan, hand-in-hand as they wander the streets of Paris together. It has been a couple of months since they were first seen together after five years. Many of our readers believe it will not last, just as they did not the first time.

But who knows anymore? We could not predict our Princess being disgraced, nor could we imagine her climbing back up. Perhaps this new adventure with the greatest star in the world is more than a five-year fancy.

We will keep all our readers updated on their journey together! We believe that this will not be the last time we see them together.

Perhaps they are, after all, meant to be.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL’S PERFECT EYEBROWS RAISED TO THE ANCIENT CEILING AS HE REGARDED YOU.

You shifted under his gaze, tightening your jacket around yourself. It was not particularly cold, considering it was the beginning of the year, but the way he looked at you with a strange sense of surprise had your discomfort growing. 

Seungkwan, watching the bizarre scene, tapped his foot impatiently against the marble floors of the Louvre. “What’s with the ogling, old man? Don’t you have a film to look over?”

The director slid his withering stare to the agent. “First of all, why are you here? Last time I remembered, you were _____’s little servant, not an actor.” The accused was ready to start shouting at the comment, but he continued. “Second,” he said, looking at you again, “You are early. I was not expecting you for another half-hour.”

“Do you frown upon punctuality?” you asked him, ignoring Seungkwan’s hushed protests. 

“No, actually…I’m rather shocked when someone exudes it.” Seungcheol cocked his head. “Especially since you are known for being late.”

Biting your lip in embarrassment, you willed your hands to your sides. “I’m aware of my…behaviour…” Distant memories flashed in your mind—memories of yourself you would rather forget. “Take this as me making amends.”

“Amends?” He clicked his tongue. “We will see how quickly you will resort to your old habits.”

Your dear agent crossed his arms. “All this attitude, yet you still gave _____ the leading role.”

“Well…” he turned on his heel. “Take this as me believing your amends.” He began to walk forward, expecting you both to follow. “But you better not expect any special treatment.”

You could only sigh, looking behind you at the museum entrance, where a mass of people were gathered outside, stopped only by a dozen security guards. With one momentary glance at Seungkwan, who only rolled his eyes, the two of you trailed after the director’s steps, further into the fine hallways of the Louvre.

It was all true—Seungcheol had offered you the role that you had auditioned for, nearly two weeks ago.

You could not believe the news at first—your agent could not either, although he was the messenger. He bothered the director with numerous phone calls, making sure that he was not being fooled, but when the elder threatened to kick you off the role, the younger screamed and ended the call, confirming your suspicions.

The greatest filmmaker in Hollywood decided to place his trust in you. It felt unbelievable, considering people were still whispering about your months-old scandal. However, when the papers began to circulate news of your contract with Choi productions, the malicious gossip had begun to alleviate.

It was as Seungkwan had predicted—you only needed one big film to turn your life around.

So here you were, following the man who decided to give you a chance in the industry into a palace-turned-museum you had visited one too many times during your visit. 

What was once a quiet sanctuary in the middle of the night had become a bustling palace filled with the film crew—the hallways were decked with cameramen, makeup artists, costume designers, running around and hurrying to their tasks. Some of the film crew spoke to the extra security guards that Seungcheol had stationed, in case a manic fan managed to sneak past the entrances. There were orders being shouted at every corner, half of the requests being lost in rapid French.

“Is Seokmin back yet?” Seungcheol demanded from his head cameraman, who had rushed over to him, providing details of the scene you were beginning with. When the man informed him of why your co-star was so indisposed, the director made sure everyone heard his irritated sigh. “Jesus, just tell him to hurry up!”

As you kept sneaking glances behind you, Seungkwan followed your vision, patting you on the shoulder. “Stop fretting, _____. He said he could not come today.”

“I know…” But you could not help your slight dejection. “I hope I can see him in the evening, at least.”

“My goodness!” A scoff. “Perhaps you should save the melodrama for when the cameras start rolling.”

You shot him a glower. “Maybe Seungcheol is right in wanting to throw you out.”

As the director led you into the exhibitions’ wing, you began to take in the familiar artwork, the dozens of Psyches and Cupids now separated. Although you missed all the interpretations you had seen that night, all those months ago, you wondered where the star attraction might be. 

“_____.”

You turned to the director, who skimmed over a few details on his clipboard, provided by his assistant. “You are on makeup. Now, what I wanted was a professional working on you, but I received a special request about two days prior from a friend to work on the set cosmetics.”

“Oh,” you got out, slightly confused. “Where do I need to go?”

Seungcheol pointed at the end of the hall, down to the next room, where the costume crew was located. “Do whatever you wish, but you better not be in front of the cameras caked like a clown.” 

“Of course,” you reassured him, but the confusion had not disappeared. “Who was the friend?”

The director twisted his lips. “Enough asking, more following!” 

“All right, all right!” you rushed out, shaking your head as you followed the path he explained. The artworks still revolved around your favourite subjects as you walked closer to the grand doorways, but you did not see your most prized sculpture.

You did not see Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss until you stepped into the costume crew’s domain. 

Hundreds of outfits had been hung in racks, creating an easier way to transport all the clothing from set to set. The hall was bustling too, men and women either fixing a dress or a skirt, checking the products were up to standard, or being distracted as they admired the classical masterpieces around them.

What distracted you, though, for a single second, was your favourite sculpture, out on display in the middle of the chaos. 

What held your distraction for a lifetime was the man before it.

“Jeonghan?”

The said-actor looked up from his papers, catching sight of you.

When his smile lit up his entire face, you could have floated in the clouds of the Louvre’s ceilings, among the godly figures that were painted, watching the reunion.

Immediately you ran over to him, taking little care for the people around you as you jumped into his arms. His laughter vibrated through your body as he held you tightly, resting his head in the space of your shoulder. 

When you finally pulled away, holding him at arms’ length, you bombarded him with questions. “Why are you here? I mean, I’m delighted you are here, but you said you couldn’t come! What happened?”

“I couldn’t miss your first day of work!” His fingers locked behind your back. “I asked Cheol to let me stay on set. Since he’s a pain in everyone’s ass, he said I couldn’t be here unless I made myself useful.”

He looked around, jerking his head to everyone’s stations. “So that’s why I suggested I help with makeup and the like.”

“Ah, so you’re the friend he was complaining about,” you figured. “I trust you since your own makeup has been done quite well.”

“Quite well?” He narrowed his eyes in excessive pride. “Darling, I was expecting never ending praises of my work.”

You raised your chin. “I will sing your praises when you don’t ruin my face after we’re done.”

“I cannot promise you that.”

Glancing at the exit, you mused, “Perhaps it’s not too late to run out of here…”

Chuckling, he turned you around, gesturing for you to sit in the two free chairs beside your favourite sculpture. “Here, sit,” he said, grabbing a small bag on the makeshift tables, right next to the racks of clothing. After settling himself down, he opened the zipper, looking through the contents given by the head artist in the crew. “Right…onto the makeup…”

You watched him inspect each cosmetic, checking too intently at the bottles of foundation, circles of powder, or small tubes of lipstick that he opened and twisted. When he pulled out an eyebrow pencil, his own furrowed, puzzlement clear in his features.

“Jeonghan…” you could barely contain your smile. “Do you know what half of these products are used for?”

“Of course!” He looked intently at the pencil. “This pencil…well, obviously it is used for…hmm…” 

He then looked at you, cocking his head. “Right…” He put the pencil back in the bag. “You know what? You do not need makeup! No need to add to perfection, as I always say.”

“Are you complimenting me because you don’t know what a brow pencil is used for?”

“Brow pencil?” He gawked at the bag. “Is that what it’s called?”

“Seungcheol would have your head if he heard us,” you warned, taking the bag from the actor. “Here, I will add the makeup myself. You sit here and look pretty.”

“That,” he announced, smirking, “I can do without a problem.”

You only shook your head, bringing out the different products, starting with the powder. You made Jeonghan hold up a small mirror as you began, slowly adding the layers of makeup that you had grown accustomed to. As you continued your progress, your dear actor watched, admiring how smoothly you applied each puff of the powder, each thin coat of foundation. 

When you opened the tiny container of block mascara, you leaned into the mirror, gently stroking your lashes against the open end of the stick. It was when you were applying your mascara when you were asked a question.

“How are you feeling about today?”

You inspected your lashes—they needed more work. “Nervous,” you replied honestly, adding a little more tint. “I mean, I am excited too, but…it’s been so long.” 

“No, of course.” He shifted the mirror to your other eye. “Your last project was a couple of years back, right?”

Humming in confirmation, you added the mascara to the next set. “I know I’m a good actress, Jeonghan, but…I just…I don’t want to go back to how I was.” You closed the stick back, tossing it in the bag. “The drinking, the fighting…I can’t let it happen again.”

You then brought out the eyeliner, trying to create a perfect wing on your left eye. “If I screw this up, then…it truly would be over for me. I wouldn’t deserve anything in the future…” You paused, realising you drew the line crooked. “Damn it.”

Your dear beau smiled at your mistake. “Wait, hold this.” Taking the mirror from him, he then took the eyeliner from you. Fingers reaching out, he held your jaw, pulling you closer to him. “Let me.”

Although your heart fluttered at the action, you still got out, “Are you sure you know what you are doing?”

He slid his gaze to you. “I doubt I can ruin it any more than you have.”

“Get your hands off me this instant.”

“Wait, wait!” he said between huffs of laughter. “Just close your eyes. Let me fix it.”

“Fine,” you mumbled out, obliging him.

Jeonghan looked at you for a moment, eyes closed, waiting for him to begin.

He thought about what you had said to him just now. 

Bringing the point of the liner to the inner corner of your eye, he knew he could not shy away from the truth—what you experienced after the end of your relationship with him was possibly the roughest downfall Hollywood had seen during that decade. He may not have spoken to you during those five years, but he had certainly witnessed and heard what everyone had written and said of you. Of course, he was aware that the press had exaggerated in every article or talk show to gain a reaction, but at the end of the day, your erratic behaviour was the beginning of all the negative exposure.

But you were in front of him now—readying yourself for a Seungcheol production, as patient as a parent with a child, as peaceful as the Parisian night. You had owned your mistakes, apologised to the people you had hurt.

With a slow, yet steady pace, he carefully lined your eyelid, finishing off with a perfect wing.

You had admitted to your faults, and endeavoured to amend them. That alone can take an immense amount of strength.

“Change does not occur overnight, mon ange,” he said to you, turning to the other, naked eyelid. “I fear people will always bring up the past and make you relive it, even if your future may be secure. It is always disheartening, when they compare you to the ghost of what you were.”

With the same, tender pace, he drew the second line, comparing the original to make sure they were identical. All the while, he continued. “But you must remember that you are trying. The press can talk whatever nonsense they conjure to gain attention, but the people who care for you see that you want to change, are trying to change.”

When he was done, he admired his work—then, he admired you, your lips twisting at his words. “If we as people are not allowed to change, then the world will become a little dull, don’t you think?” 

“Besides…” he put the eyeliner back in the bag. “Even with all this change, one thing will remain stagnant.”

You felt his eyes on you, his fingers sliding to your face. 

“Always remember that my love for you will never falter.”

You opened your eyes. 

There he was, looking at you as if he held the universe in his hands.

And as you finally felt Psyche and Cupid’s presence beside the two of you, in their pose of eternal yearning, you smiled at him, confiding in an intimate truth.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Jeonghan’s smile faltered.

He was quite sure that if he said anything to you, then you would catch on to the tremble of his voice.

So he did not say anything, only closing the distance, enveloping his lips with yours. You happily complied to the sweet kiss, as if absorbing the longing of the two deities and taking it for yourselves. 

It would have gone a little further when you were interrupted by a guttural groan at the doorway. You broke away from your actor’s lips, whirling your head to see Seungcheol glaring at you two.

“Just when I thought I could trust Jeonghan,” he began, crossing his arms, “He goes and plays tonsil tennis with my lead actress.”

Your beloved grinned as you hid your head in embarrassment. “It was your fault for trusting me, Cheol. You should know better after knowing me so long.”

“My mistake, you bastard,” seethed the elder. “And as for you, _____! Tell me your makeup is done or I am firing you this second.”

Instantly you shot up from your seat. “Jesus, Seungcheol, I’m ready!” you exclaimed, dusting at your dress. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Hurry up,” was his next order before thundering out of the room.

Jeonghan waved him off as you sighed heavily. “Don’t fret too much over him. He won’t do anything, really.”

“That’s because he actually likes you,” you countered, touching your lips. “Damn! We forgot the lipstick.”

“No, no, the look is better without it.” A glimmer appeared in his gaze. “Even better that we didn’t add it before, or else it would have stained.”

“How resourceful of you,” you monotoned, as if your cheeks did not burn. “Now, let’s go before he has both our heads. I refuse to die after I have just landed a good role.”

Both of you exited the costume hall, entering back to the main set. The bustling of the camera crew instantly began the moment Seungcheol began voicing orders, humming in approval at his lighting crew, who offered him suggestions. He then addressed everyone as you came into view. “All right, all right, everybody, let’s get into positions!”

He pointed his pen at you. “_____, I want you at the first doorway. This is the scene where she’s waiting for Richard to arrive, and admires the artwork around her.” 

“Perfect,” you said, walking to your position. 

He shot his assistant a withering look. “And for God’s sake, get Seokmin out of the goddamn lavatory this instant! We’ll be finished with the whole movie at this rate!” The poor man only nodded hurriedly before running out of the hall. “Where’s the slate?”

But the camera assistant who held the slate was already before you, waiting for the director’s orders as you prepared yourself, going over the lines one last time. 

Seungkwan and Jeonghan were right behind the cameras, watching you practise. The former raised his fist, a signal of his belief in you. You sent him a quick nod, letting yourself smile at him because if there was one person you had to thank for this opportunity, then it was your dear agent, and even dearer friend.

The latter only had his hands in his trench coat pockets, eyes never straying from you.

“Right!” Seungcheol clapped his hands, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Let us do _____’s solo scene first.” He settled in the seat behind the main camera, held up by a huge tripod. 

Signalling the camera assistant, she commenced, “Scene 4, Take 1!” With the click of the slate, she hurried out of view.

This was it.

The final call was going to begin.

You locked your hands behind your back, allowing yourself one last look at your ex-lover. 

No, not ex-lover—never ex. 

He smiled at you. An action so little had every nerve in your body easing.

You could do this.

“Lights!”

You could not believe you were finally here. 

If you had told yourself that you would be in this position the moment you entered this mystical city, you would have never had faith in such a prediction. Your chances had vanished, your fortune had run dry. You truly thought that it was over for you when you landed in this fated city,  thinking that you were begging to an absent god, relying on the empty promises of strangers. 

But you were okay. You were going to be all right.

Because you deserved this. 

“Camera!”

And as your film noir star had rightfully told you, it was not going to be easy, changing from your old, hard habits. It would be a long path, perhaps filled with the same old adversaries. The press was still there, perhaps it always will be. Now, you would not have to fight it alone.

You would have Yoon Jeonghan by your side—and he was not going anywhere anytime soon.

This time, you would never let him go.

You slipped him one last smile before your eyes slid to the camera.

You were ready.

“ACTION!”

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : hello everyone i can’t believe y’all have reached the end!! it means so much to me especially for this fic because i never thought paris would ever be finished :’) i have so many people to thank for bringing this work to life—chia, your paris! chan fanart and drawings have been on my mind for the past two years, and all your gushing encouraged me to keep writing (even tho i floored chan im so sorry). Secondly, this is for the Lysol GC! The way you bitches bullied me everytime I scrapped paris since 2020…. HORRENDOUS…but from the bullying to reading over my drafts and encouraging me everytime i hit a block, i would never have finished this fic if it wasn’t for you three <33 and lastly, thank you YSL Jeonghan—you did what my previous ult biases could not inspire me to write !! thank you once again, everyone, for reading, and let me know if y’all enjoyed <3

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld​ @dalkyeom​ @sysymei​ @alaypsy23​ @belladaisies​ @jjeongddol​@sparklyshuji @forcoups​ @ilovesungjun​ @wonwoo24​ @scandal-in-bohemia​ @hopefulchick​ @superbbananananana​ @onedumbho3​ @fragmentof-indifference​ @cuntycheol​ @rubywonu​ @if-i-like-i-reblog​ @yoonzinoooo​ @jungwoos-luvr​ @crookedwolfruins​ @leclercloverbot​ @alexai 

#seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan smut #seventeen x reader #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen angst #jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan angst #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan

[wongyuuu]

lens of ice | yjh | one

pairing: jeonghan x f!reader genre: figure skater jeonghan, light angst, a little fluff, smut in the next part word count: 12k summary: jeonghan has only one chance left to make it to the olympics. as he embarks on this decisive journey, you, a documentarist, are set to follow him as he seeks the ultimate glory. warnings: jeonghan is kind of reckless with his body a/n: i've been writing this one for so long now and though it's not finished yet, i decided to post half of it, as a way to motivate myself to finish it. i really wanna thank @ressonancee first for giving me idea and second for helping me through all of this and putting up my crazy ass mind 💓

part one | part two (final)

The light buzzing of the fluorescent lights made him uncomfortable, it was like a premonition of what was to come. Something bad, he was sure.

Jeonghan was many things in his life, stubborn perhaps being the most obvious one, but dumb wasn't one then. He knew that his ankle was fucked up, that he was probably the cause of it. Too many hours of training, never giving himself enough time to heal before he got the ice again. He didn't know exactly how bad it was, that was for the doctor in front of him to say, but Jeonghan knew that nothing good would come out of the man's mouth.

"It's worse than I thought," the man said with a sigh, taking off his glasses "It's not just your ankle anymore, it's also your knee. And, I could be wrong, but considering the way you're walking, I'd say that you're right ankle also started to bother you"

Jeonghan hung his head. He was an athlete and he knew that he was being reckless, beyond actually. He should have gone to his coach the second he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. But he just went home, took an ice bath, and kept the whole thing to himself. Even on the following days, when the pain didn't go away at all, he still chose to keep his mouth shut and go to practice every day. And his coach, unaware of his condition, kept pushing him during practice. 

Not that he needed anyone to be harsh on him, Jeonghan did all of that on his own. But having someone else do that for him as well brought out a different desire for perfection. One that came from a dark place to show someone else that he was good, to prove people wrong.

"Can I still compete?" was all he asked, it was the only thing that mattered to him "Can I make it to the Olympics? It's the last one for me, after this I retire"

The look on the doctor's face wasn't reassuring, Jeonghan knew that his next words wouldn't be the ones he wanted. He wasn't about to hear what he needed.

"If, and only if, you have surgery, take physical therapy seriously, and rest as we instruct you, there might be a possibility. Small, but it exists" 

"When can I have the surgery?"

You stared at your computer screen, a hand on your forehead as you read the email your boss sent you. You sat at your desk, not really knowing what to do.

"Seungkwan!" you called without looking up "Did you get this email too?"

Just to make sure that you weren't crazy, you read it once again. The third time in less than five minutes. No matter how many times you read it, it didn't change.

"Yeah. I'm excited but scared…"

That was enough to get your attention.

"Why?" 

Closing your laptop, you stood up moving closer to Seungkwan. Unlike you, who read the email many times, Seungkwan had already started his research. Not that he really needed to, everyone at the office knew that he was a huge fan of figure skating. So of course he would know all about Yoon Jeonghan.

The nation's pride and joy in figure skating, at least in the make category.

"Why scared? I thought everyone loved him"

It was impossible to look away from the picture Seungkwan had open on his computer. Jeonghan's face really was something else, as if he had been carved in marble by some ancient Greek artist. From his dark hair covering his eyes, giving him almost a mysterious vibe, to the way his lips were slightly crooked into a smile. You had to give it to him, the man was absolutely stunning. No wonder he left a trail of fans everywhere he went.

"He isn't the biggest enthusiast when it comes to the press. He barely gives interviews so I guess doing a documentary about him won't be easy"

Seungkwan kept scrolling, reading the latest news on Jeonghan. But the truth was that there wasn't any. His social media was also rarely updated, the last post was from months before.

"Well, good luck to you"

"What do you mean? You're the one in charge"

You just shook your head. The problem was Jeonghan honestly, you barely knew anything about him, though Seungkwan's words didn't help the case. The thing was that you barely knew anything at all about sports, in general, much less about figure skating. Lack of knowledge was an easy fix. The real issue was the fact that a documentary on a sport was way too different from what you usually did.

"I'm not doing this one. I have other projects I want to work on. Plus, this is too sudden. They want us to start tomorrow, Seungkwan. Do you really think that it's possible to have anything done by tomorrow?" he shook his head and you nodded in agreement "Precisely, so I'm sure that if we talk with Jihoon…"

"Nothing will change" 

A curse left your lips at the sudden voice behind you. Turning around you faced the small man. Jihoon had his arms crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes that told you that no matter what he wouldn't let you off the hook. Still, you had to try.

"Jihoon, I'm not your sports person. And it's too soon. I don't anything about Jeonghan or figure skating"

Jihoon simply shook his head at you.

"They want a different approach than the average sports documentary, so I recommended you. I'm sending Seungkwan with you because I know this isn't your area of expertise, though I highly suggest you do some sort of research" he turned around to leave with a wave of his hand then turned around for a second, as if remembering something "Hansol will be your camera and sound guy. They asked for a small crew"

With a salute Jihoon left.

"Fuck"

You couldn't take your eyes away from the crutches under Jeonghan's arms and the orthopedic boot around his left leg. There was not a single article that pointed to surgery. There were plenty about his constant injuries though. Seungkwan had the same look on his face, of pure shock. 

"Are you okay?" you asked once he made himself comfortable on the couch.

Jeonghan sat sideways on the couch, his leg propped up over cushions. The position looked weird but he didn't seem to mind.

"Ah, this" he pointed at his leg nonchalantly, as if it was the most normal thing "Yeah, it's okay. Had to get the surgery done in order to make it to the next Olympic"

Nodding, you looked around. His apartment wasn't as big as you had expected. In fact, the three of you stood closely together in the living room, a bit too small for all the gear Hansol said he needed.

"Put your things down, let's talk. I don't know how this is going to work"

Me neither, you wanted to say but kept your mouth shut. Thankfully, Seungkwan was there to help you.

"Before we start any real interview or conversation, I think we have to tell you that this was very last minute for us. We only heard about this documentary yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon" he used his kindest voice, his voice laced with concern and a hit of fear, maybe "yn is in charge, she's the documentarist, she'll be asking the questions and dictating the overall direction that we're going to take with the documentary. I'm Seungkwan and that's Hansol. This is the smallest crew he could assemble"

Seungkwan was giving too many explanations, you felt. But he also wasn't wrong. What he did was normal, he was just introducing the crew. Maybe you were a little irritated by the way you were tossed into this job, without someone giving you enough time to prepare. Sixteen hours were barely enough.

"I assume my… reputation has gotten to you," Jeonghan said, a small smile on his lips.

A reputation he had indeed. Jeonghan was known for not liking the press and journalists. He avoided them at all costs and once, on one occasion, was seen being rude. And honestly, you had to give him a pass for it. Pushing the camera away from his face, almost delicately, could barely be considered rude at such a moment. There were way too many cameras around, all of them on his face, trying to get some sort of pronouncement on why he had not made it to the podium. 

And that had been years before but people still remembered him by that one moment. But what exactly did they expect? He underperformed, came in fourth place, and injured himself in the process. Was anyone expecting a happy and bright Jeonghan? 

"You can be comfortable around me. A conversation like this is fine. I just don't like being swarmed" 

Though his words were inviting, his face told a whole different story. He clearly didn't want this documentary.

"All of our interactions will be recorded," you told him, not leaving room for arguments on his end "These first few minutes aren't, out of courtesy and so that we can set our goals. I need to know if you're uncomfortable with anything, or something that you don't want to be filmed, either right now or before we turn the cameras on. Once we start, we won't stop"

Jeonghan adjusted his position on the couch, his eyes never leaving you. It was like he was measuring your every move. He didn't like your tone, and how aggressive you were towards him. 

"I know this was last minute and I apologize for that. This is going to be my last run and, as much as I hate to admit, I'm a bit sensitive to it.

With furrowed eyebrows, you nodded. Jeonghan knew that you didn't believe him or that you cared about his reasons. He knew that the sole reason you were there was because someone made you. 

"Will you need to film my family?" 

"Yes, usually film family members to get a complete idea of someone's life" 

Turning around you nodded at Hansol, telling him to start setting up. With a shake of his head, Seungkwan moved to help him.

"I don't want my family to know the extent of my injuries. So if you only want them for context, to know about me as a child, that's fine. But they can't know anything about this" Jeonghan pointed at his leg "I've been hiding this for a very long time and I'd like to keep it that way"

You dropped your bag on the couch, eyes tired and mind filled with one too many thoughts. The day had been easier than you expected, far more so. 

Based on Seungkwan's words you had expected to fight with Jeonghan in a way. It was a documentary so you needed him to talk and talk he did. There was no question unanswered or dodged, all of his answers were precise and consistent. All of it had sounded fake like he had rehearsed them a million times.

Even if you thought that your question had been good, and had caught him off guard, Jeonghan seemed to be fully prepared for it. He didn't hesitate for a second. 

In the few hours you spent around him, you finally managed to understand the fascination most people had with him. He was handsome, yes, but that was just the very basic and surface level of him. Beyonce that he was also good with his words. It was hard to tell that he was lying because he talked with conviction. After just one interview you were sure that if one day Jeonghan decided to tell you that your mom wasn’t actually your mother, you’d somehow believe him.

And the man knew all of it. He was aware of his beauty and charm, of what it did to normal people, and he used it in his favor. Jeonghan knew that most people couldn’t resist a handsome talented man. And that was a part he was all too willing to fill.

“Yeah,” you answered your phone, not bothering to see who it was, certain that it was just Jihoon.

“How was it today?” he sounded just as tired as you felt and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was okay.

“Fine”

“Just fine?”

You turned on your back, facing the ceiling, or at least whatever you could see with the lights turned off - not a whole lot, to be honest.

“He lied through his teeth today. There was no manager, and no coach around, though I do remember him saying someone would come. The person never showed up” you sighed “Seungkwan hates and Vernon probably thinks I’m a crazy bitch. So yeah, just fine”

Jihoon laughed on the other side of the line and you felt the little butterflies in your stomach come to life. You rolled your eyes at yourself. How pathetic it was of you, to have a crush on your boss. How very much bland of you.

Growing up, like a lot of girls that were influenced by way too much TV, you had wanted the be the odd one out. The I’m one of the guys kind of girl, or the one who refused to wear any kind of makeup or even come close to the pink because that was just girly for you. And now there you were, in love with the color pink, finding excuses to wear pretty dresses, and having a crush on your boss.

Teenage you would throw eggs at your head if she had the chance.

“Okay, but how was Jeonghan?” Jihoon pressed even further.

You sighed and closed your eyes, covering over face with your hand.

“He was polite, answered all of my questions, had a pleasant smile the entire time, and only asked for a bathroom break while we were there. Offered us food and drinks. He was fine” you said again, emphasizing the fine.

You could picture Jihoon, nodding his head and looking at the floor, probably thinking of what to ask next.

“Why would Seungkwan hate you? And why would Vernon think you’re a bitch?”

“Seungkwan thinks I went too hard on Jeonghan and Vernon just trusts Seungkwan’s judgment and goes with it”

Jihoon laughed again and you heard him moving around.

“Classic yn, going at someone while she’s angry. At least your anger was sort of directed to the right person”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you sat up.

You liked to think that you didn’t act that way all the time. In your mind, most of the time, you were able to hide your anger and just play nice like your mother had taught you to be. Jihoon’s words told a completely different story.

“Have some rest, there’s still a lot of work to do. Tomorrow you’re going with him to rehab, right?” Jihoon paused for a second and you heard a female voice in the back, you couldn’t make out what she said but you were sure of who it belonged to “I have to go. We’ll talk next week”

The line was disconnected and leaned back on the couch again. The problem of having a crush on your boss was also the fact that he had a long-time girlfriend and soon he was supposed to be marrying her.

You groaned, wondering if you had gone far enough that there was no going back from this crush.

You sat across from Jeonghan once again, the position exactly the same as the first day. But this time you chose to be less irritable.

The other day you were frustrated because you had to give up other projects to be able to accompany Jeonghan and that, thinking rationally, had nothing to do with him. He asked for a specific documentary filmmaker profile and you were chosen by the studio. Maybe it was more your fault than his. But it was also a no-return kind of situation. The job was assigned to you and there was nothing you could do to change it. So the least you could do was do your best and pray that it didn’t take a turn for the worse.

And, if anything, the conversation with Jihoon helped you focus on work. It wouldn't be the first time you were doing something you didn't want to do and it certainly wouldn't be the last. So you decided that the best thing to do was just work, showing your professional side that had been left aside before.

Jeonghan looked at you the same way, eyes serious as if he was ready for a new attack.

"Thank you," he said to Vernon, who had just placed the microphone inside his jacket, so that he could pick up the sound well, but it was not visible to the camera.

You turned to Seungkwan and Vernon, waiting for confirmation from the two that you could begin. You received a wave from each of them after they checked that the cameras were on and recording.

You took a deep breath and turned to Jeonghan.

"I wanted to apologize for yesterday," you said "I wasn't fair to you. I was irritated by things that had nothing to do with you, but I somehow decided that they did"

Everyone in Jeonghan's living room seemed to hold their breath, you included. You didn't know what to expect from Jeonghan, not really. You had been anything but ungracious with him, in a way that to most people meant that any door between you two had closed.

Jeonghan decided, at that moment, that he had two options: a) he could let the previous day dictate how all interactions between the two of you from then on would be, and it would be many months of a bad relationship that would bring no benefit to anyone involved in it; or b) he could accept your apology, which seemed sincere enough, and let go of the discomfort he felt.

Option b was actually the only possible choice.

“Okay” he finally smiled “my reputation isn’t the best, either way”

Seungkwan and Vernon breathed a sigh of relief. It was as if a huge gray cloud had moved away and the weather was beginning to clear.

“No, your reputation had no influence. I was the one who lost my hand because of my problems and for that, I apologize” you said and you were sincere in your words “But Jeonghan, I need you to stop seeing me as your enemy. I need you to be honest with me.”

You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.

“You think I wasn’t honest?” he tilted his head as if analyzing you.

“In the same way that you don't want your reputation to affect the way I see you, I need you to not let the way you see other journalists affect the way you see me. I want to tell your story, however you want it told, but I need you to be honest with me.”

You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.

He was silent for a minute, his eyes fixed on his hands. His hair covered his face, so it was hard to get an idea of what was going through his head.

You looked at Seungkwan, seeking confirmation that you hadn’t been rude. He seemed to be as lost as you were, but the small smile he gave you was enough to make your restless heart rest for a second.

“What if I say something and regret it later?”

It was the first time Jeonghan looked insecure and it was a strange sight, but much more realistic than the other version of him.

“We can edit it, it’s not a problem. I said that because I was angry” you said apologetically once again.

“Can we throw it all away and start again?”

Jeonghan smiled and you had no choice but to smile along with him.

“Let’s start with what’s happening now,” you said, folding your legs under your body, notebook open to a blank page and a pen ready to take notes “You underwent surgery not long ago, right? Why?"

Jeonghan took a deep breath, eyes closed for a second before placing all his attention on you. His gaze was almost too intense. You had to force yourself not to look anywhere but at him.

“A few years ago I fell during training and twisted my ankle. At the time, it wasn't a big deal and if I had stayed quiet for a few weeks, and did everything right, I wouldn't have had any problems. But I couldn't do it, I was preparing for a competition. I didn't tell anyone about the problem and just endured the pain. When I participated in the competition I fell again and that only made the situation worse. Today I have a problem with my ligament and tendon.”

With every word that left his mouth, you felt like a lump was forming in your throat, and with every second it was getting bigger.

Unlike the day before, it didn't seem like Jeonghan was lying, but you didn't know if you wanted the truth he was sharing. Even if it was a lie, a character he had created, the version of Jeonghan from before was a little brighter, a little more present in the moment. The version of him that was in front of you, that you imagined to be the closest to reality, was almost sad, detached from everything.

“Because I forced my right knee a lot, trying to compensate for the lack of my left one, I developed a problem with that one too”

“You’ve never talked about your injuries before, right?” he nodded “Why talk now?”

He was silent again, his lower lip caught between his teeth. That was a great question, one that not even Jeonghan himself knew exactly how to answer.

“I'm not sure, to be honest” he laughed a little. Instead of looking directly at the camera, his eyes were focused on you “Someone came up with the idea at some point and it didn't seem like a bad one, but I think it will only work if I make it to the Olympics.”

“Is that the ultimate goal then, to get to the Olympics?”

He shook his head, that fearless, confident look you had only seen in photos finally making itself known.

“No, the ultimate goal is to win”

As promised, Jeonghan waited for you, Seungkwan, and Vernon outside the clinic. He was nowhere to be seen, really, but the car his assistant informed you of was parked right in front of the door.

You were the first one to exit your own car, while Seungkwan and Vernon prepared the camera to follow along. You could only assume he was the manager. Terribly young for a manager, sure, but a manager nonetheless.

“I assume you’re in” he extended a hand to you “I’m Joshua”

“Hi”

The exchange of words with Joshua was quick, no more than half a dozen. You didn't have much to talk about with him and he wasn't your priority, at least not at the moment. Later, at some other time, talking to him would be great. He had introduced himself as a friend/manager of Jeonghan. Having his point of view would be great and could contribute a lot, but your eyes couldn't leave Jeonghan.

His hair was tied back, but a cap covered much of his face. He had barely said hi to you or the other two. It wasn't a big surprise. While it was true that made up to a certain extent, you didn't expect him to simply welcome you with open arms, but his reaction was strange - or as strange as the reaction of a person you knew little, or nothing, could be.

“Can we film it?” You asked.

Jeonghan stopped and turned towards you. He had forgotten that you and your team would attend his first physical therapy session, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Since the last time you saw each other, Jeonghan spent hours on end watching documentaries made by you and they all had one thing in common: they were almost like video logs. You followed everyone around documenting every tiny aspect of their lives. All those people told their stories and didn't seem afraid of having their lives exposed. And perhaps for people who didn't lead lives where they had been exposed too much, sincerity came easily.

For Jeonghan, that was never the case.

Being treated as the future, a promise of the sport, had brought a lot of harm and situations that neither he, nor anyone else, had the option to deal with or even, perhaps, ignore.

Cameras were pointed at him, rumors spread and suddenly he wasn't just Yoon Jeonghan, the boy who started skating because it would annoy his little sister. He became someone from whom people expected something.

As much as he could, Jeonghan tried to live up to all of those expectations, realistic or not. He tried to be as perfect as possible, on the ice and off of it. And it only took one day of silence, a few rude unanswered questions, and one bad performance — which had no real effect — for everything to collapse.

“You said you would film anything and everything.”

You grimaced, clearly regretful and maybe even a little embarrassed. It wasn't his intention, but he found your reaction funny anyway.

In your place, Jeonghan would have done much worse.

“Do you think it’s important?”

You nodded, perhaps more forcefully than necessary. Jeonghan laughed, he wanted to hold your head to make sure it was still in the right place.

“The documentary is about your return, so filming you here is important. I asked because it's your first session. I heard it can be painful.”

“It will probably be uncomfortable” he couldn’t deny that “Let’s do it like this, you can record it, if in the end you think it’s bad or that it doesn’t fit, we won’t use it

You quietly followed Jeonghan and Joshua out of the clinic, Seungkwan and Vernon trailing behind you talking in hushed tones. It was no surprise that they were talking. Truth was rehab had been brutal. You knew that it could get hard for Jeonghan, that it could be painful but nothing really prepared you for what you saw. And if it was hard for you to watch him go through that, it was unimaginable to understand how it was for him.

Throughout the entire session, Jeonghan looked in pain, his grunts and the scowl on his face growing with each passing second and new movement. Midway through you told Seungkwan and Vernon to stop filming. You had seen enough and you had more than what you needed for the documentary. 

You would only film his rehab again when he was no longer in such pain, you decided. Out of the many things you learned about Jeonghan was that showing his weaknesses wasn’t something he was too fond of or even comfortable with the idea of it. So there was no real reason to keep recording and you couldn’t stand it either. 

While you watched his face contort in pain, you felt something inside your chest tighten. 

It had never been a real issue before with you. You had always managed to separate your personal emotions from the things you felt while working. More often than not you told stories that were hard to listen to, took someone’s suffering, and put it on the TV for the entire world to see in hopes that maybe a part of their lives would be changed. You had always been able to detach yourself from that. 

However while inside with Jeonghan, such a thing was not possible. You felt your throat constrict and your eyes grow wet and for a short while, you couldn’t breathe either. It made no sense really. Why did it hurt to see this man, you knew nothing about, in pain to the point you wanted to cry? Why did it sadden you so much that he was limping harder than before?

You wanted to approach him, ask if he was okay, if it had been too much. But it was out of line, it was one that you knew you shouldn’t cross. There was this itch though, in the back of your mind, begging you to just ask, to just take a step closer to him. 

It happened so suddenly that you didn’t even see it happening. One second it was just the five of you in the parking lot, in the next there were reporters with mics and cameras pointed at Jeonghan. You noticed how Jeonghan raised his shoulders at the same time he lowered his head. He couldn’t see in front of himself, you were certain. 

Joshua put an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulder while he used the other one to keep them away from him. Not that it was of any use. One of the cameras was directly under his face as if trying to get an expression, anything at all, that could show his discomfort with the situation. From somewhere behind you there were flashes. 

"Do you believe your injury was a result of your own carelessness?"  someone asked. 

You felt your blood run cold for a second and you froze in place, Seungkwan and Vernon behind you. 

"Do you think your skating career is over after such devastating injuries?" someone followed. 

"Did you regret pushing yourself so hard during training, knowing it led to your injury?" 

"How did it feel to watch other skaters progress while you were stuck in rehab?" 

"Are you worried that your injury will define your career more than your achievements on the ice?" 

The questions got progressively worse and you wanted to scream at them to just shut up, and stop. How could they just ambush someone like that with those questions? It made no sense at all. And though you knew that it would cause more harm than good you wished Jeonghan would tell them all to fuck off.

Instead, he kept his head low and just slowly walked to his car while ignoring everyone around him, all the careless words being thrown at him. 

You tried to take a step forward but were held back by Seungkwan, who gripped the strap of your purse. He didn’t say a word, just shook his head. 

“They can’t just do that to him” you almost cried

“If you say anything, it might only make matters worse,” Hansol said, his voice sad. 

That sudden need to protect Jeonghan felt weird but oddly natural as well. Weird because you knew that you shouldn’t, because you hardly knew the guy. Natural because it felt as if you had always done that like it was just second nature to you. 

“He is used to this,” Seungkwan said, still not letting go of your purse. 

“He shouldn’t be! They are barely treating him like a human!”

By the time you turned around, Jeonghan was already inside the car leaving the parking lot. 

The clock on the top of your phone screen told you that it was 4:37 am. You hadn't even realized that you had spent so many hours still awake. 

As soon as you got home from the rehab with Jeonghan, you took a quick shower, ate the leftovers from the night before, and started to look up Jeonghan’s performances.

The man was a celebrity amongst athletes since he was a child. He was always seen as a promise of the sport. He was good from the start. Performing moves that he was still too young to do, entering competitions boys his age never really competed in and somehow managing to either come up to the podium or even winning some of them.

Everything was displayed online. Yearly competitions, practices, and small moments of his life.

Jeonghan's entire life, at least the sports part, was exposed on the internet for anyone, from anywhere in the world, to see. And it wasn't just the competitions, having videos of that part seemed completely normal and expected.

What was scary was all the other content. Some photos of him in school uniform, not one where he was actually looking at the camera, but ones that were clearly taken in secret. Another one from when he seemed to have simply gone out for coffee with Joshua.

You knew he had fans, that he was liked wherever he went, and that he was always followed, but that seemed a bit much.

In reality, watching videos of the competitions was like a gateway to everything that came after.

You knew very little about Jeonghan, only what you had read about in all the articles that you found and all of them had one thing in common: Jeonghan was a huge diva, who thought he was superior to everyone. But after seeing how he had been treated that day, as soon as he got out of rehab, you knew it wasn't like that. It was as if they had appeared out of nowhere, one second the parking lot was empty and the next it was full of journalists, shouting things and asking questions that to many would seem harmless, but were clearly intended to hurt.

Instead of watching more competition videos, not that there were many you hadn't watched yet, you decided to look for the famous video of him treating journalists badly.

You had never found one so easily on the internet. You just typed "Jeonghan and journalists" into the search bar and it was the first video to appear.

It was a scene very similar to the previous day. Jeonghan was in the parking lot, walking towards the guy when he was surrounded by several journalists.

"You didn't get the podium today, are you disappointed?" one of them asked and that was the most harmless question he got. “Did you really try hard or did you think you would get a high score because you were the favorite?” “Why did you fall in such a simple jump?” “Don't you think it was an amateur's performance?”

You didn't want to keep listening to all those meaningless questions, but you couldn't take your eyes off Jeonghan. He still had short hair at the time, even covering his eyebrows. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were hard, and his gaze was focused straight ahead, as he walked slowly to his car. Joshua tried as best he could to control the journalists with their microphones and cameras, but he was just one man against many. Finally, after what felt like ages, two security guards appeared, pushing the journalists away as they began shouting profanities in Jeonghan's direction.

Could those people even consider themselves journalists? Real journalists, who took their work seriously?

There is a very fine line between being a journalist who asks incisive questions and one who is completely disrespectful to the athlete. And those people were anything but professional.

It was no surprise that after that Jeonghan refused to give interviews.

That whole situation happened years before, at the beginning of the previous Olympic cycle, but even so, it was still a moment that haunted him. People remembered him as just that guy, someone who refused to answer simple questions. But what exactly did these people expect? That he was all smiles when he failed to reach the podium, even though he was the favorite in the competition? That he smiles when he hurts?

Finally, you managed to understand why he acted that way, and why his answers were so polite and direct. Jeonghan didn't want to leave room for interpretation. Not that he had much of a choice. People only see what they want to see, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

Jeonghan couldn’t take his eyes away from your back, he followed your every move. You stood next to Joshua, talking to him quietly, his friend showing you something on his phone. He felt something scratch at his neck. This new and unknown feeling. 

It was unusual for Jeonghan, to want to have someone’s undivided attention. It was usually the other way around and he was never willing to do it, with anyone. And then there you were and suddenly he didn’t like that you were talking with Joshua. 

It wasn’t like you seemed to be having fun either. You moved around with intention, your eyes always focused, your words and questions firm and straight to the point. Jeonghan couldn’t help but wonder if it was always like that with you. If your professional persona always took over who you were in other moments. 

His curiosity was huge but his courage to ask was very little. 

“She may seem like it, but she won’t bite your head off if you talk with her,” someone said on his left.

Seungkwan stood at his side, his hands clasped in front of him while he rocked on his heels. 

“I think she will,” Jeonghan said. 

Seungkwan took his reply as an invitation to sit. 

“You know, in the office, people call her the ice queen” he too looked in your direction, at your serious expression "She’s like that most of the time”

Jeonghan looked at Seungkwan expectantly, he knew there was a but coming soon. All he needed to do was wait long enough. 

“She didn’t want to take this job, our boss forced her to. She’s more into storytelling, real people, with real issues”

“Am I not a real person?”

The offense in Jeonghan’s voice made Seungkwan almost fall off his chair. He didn’t intend for his words to sound like that.

“Of course you are” he laughed nervously while trying to explain it as best as he could “If it were up to her, she would focus this documentary on you, on how you started skating, why, what attracted you to it, how it affected the rest of your life. But your team doesn’t want that, I think. We were told that you already gave many interviews on the matter so there’s no point in talking about it again. They want us to focus on your recovery and then you make it to the Olympics. She’s trying to figure out how to do that in a way that makes someone watch it”

Jeonghan nodded, feeling guilty. It had been his request to not the documentary so focused on the past and more on what was happening in the moment

“She also doesn’t like sports and hated the idea of the job, but that's beside the point”

Both of them laughed, eyes still on your back now that you talked with Vernon, giving him new instructions.

“I’ll make sure that she gets to do the kind of documentary she thinks is best”

Seungkwan stood up, a big smile on his lips.

“Who could have known that the ice queen and the ice prince aren’t actually that cold”

After months of just rehab, it’s finally time for Jeonghan to get back on the ice and it pained you a little to admit that you were looking forward to it. The videos you watched could only take you so far, you wanted to actually see the real thing. Him, in action.

Of course, you know that he wasn’t going to be able to do a third of the things he did on those videos. But you wanted to see him in his element, how he would behave when he was finally around the thing he loved the most in the world — his words, not yours. 

The one thing you were able to learn from Jeonghan was the fact that he indeed loved what he did. Like most people, sometimes he hated it. It was the thing he was most passionate about, yes, but it was also his job, so there were days when he just hated and the mere idea of leaving the house was too much. 

It was too hard to be a professional athlete, it demanded way too much of him. Of anyone, really. Sometimes he wanted to be like everyone else and just not put everything he was into it. But if he did that, he lost one single day, he was scared that he could lose an entire year and maybe that year turned into two and then he could lose his chance to go to the Olympics. 

And he only had one change left. 

So, instead of focusing on much he didn’t want to do, Jeonghan decided to focus on the fact that there was only a year ahead of him and he would be able to do whatever he wanted and have as many down days as he wanted. 

He didn’t know what he wanted to do and what would be the after for him but it gave him something to look forward to. 

“Are you nervous?” you asked him.

Jeonghan was someone who was mostly quiet. You noticed that once he started to feel more comfortable he was one to start the conversation and even crack a few jokes here and there. Seungkwan had been the first person he kind of opened up to, which had left you a hint of jealousy. You wanted to be one he talked with mostly because it was your job but also just because. 

However, he had been especially quiet that day. The three of you went to meet him at his apartment. The idea was that you’d follow him the entire day, from the moment he woke up, to when he went to the doctor to get the final clear and then finally to the ring. 

He had talked very little, his eyes always focused somewhere else. It was clear that his mind was traveling somewhere far, far away. So you left him be, quietly watching him just move around. A silent shooting day, you told yourself  In the end, however, you had a job and he needed to do the talking.

“It’s been too long,” he said, his eyes never really leaving the ice “I don’t know if I can still do it”

You laughed, causing him to finally look at you, eyes wide on his face. He tried to look serious but the corners of his lips were turned slightly up.

“You just don’t feel confident, but you didn’t forget it” you looked at his ankle, it was still weird to see him without any sort of protection around it “How’s your ankle?”

He just shook his head and in that moment you chose to believe that he was said It doesn’t bother me anymore. 

Through the interviews, you found out that Jeonghan is the kind of person to suffer in silence. It was clear from all of his previous injuries, how he competed while in pain and only ever said anything when it was almost too late.

“Do you think I can still do it?”

There was something in his voice like he was almost on the verge of breaking. He sounded vulnerable in a way that was entirely too new, in a way you wanted to push Vernon and his camera away because that was a part of him you knew he didn’t want the world to see. 

Instead, you reached for his arm, patting it a couple of times, hoping that your touch, as ungraceful and awkward as it was, was able to soothe him, even if it was just for a moment. 

“I was watching some of your competitions last night, again, you know? And that guy? He’s still in there, I’m sure of it, I’ve seen him”

You weren’t just saying that to cheer him up, your words were true. You had seen that version of him, little glimpses here and there. He was in the way his eyes suddenly changed and it was like he owned the entire room, in the way he suddenly turned confident, in the way he was charming in a way that was almost sickening but all too enchanting either way. 

Whether or not he believed it himself, Yoon Jeonghan was a force to be reckoned with.

"What kind of kid were you?" you asked, looking up at Jeonghan. 

He sat opposite to you, bent down to tie the laces on his skates. His hair covered his face, you were sure that he couldn't see much, but he didn't seem bothered by it in the least. Maybe he had just gotten used to it. 

Four months had gone by since you started to follow Jeonghan and even before that, he had kept his hair long. And you hated to admit that he looked good, too good even.

"What kind do you think I was?" He smirked at you for a second before going back to his skates.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but smile. 

"This is not how it works. I ask the questions here"

Jeonghan leaned back on his seat, giving you his full attention. His smirk did something to your insides. It felt tight and loose at the same time, like wild butterflies running around on your skin. 

"Come on, humor me"

You pretended to be in deep thought, Jeonghan as a child had been something you thought about for a long time now. Even though he was very serious most of the time there were these small moments where he looked like a kid ready to do something he wasn't supposed to.

"I can only think of you as a troublemaker” you smiled, closing your notes knowing well that you’d make no progress at all with the filming “I’ve seen pictures of you and a child and although you looked very cute, I’m sure you were a handful to your mother”

Jeonghan laughed, throwing his head back and in that moment he looked so carefree.

Even since the start of the documentary Jeonghan had used his most serious expressions, a frown always taking over his beautiful features. But he had been back on the ice for a few days already and in those days he had looked the happiest you had seen him yet.

Of course, he still hasn’t practiced the way he wanted or the way he used to. He still needed to take things slowly: fewer hours, less power in the movements. But it was undeniable that he was a completely different person.

It wasn’t that he had been in a bad mood every single day but there was just something about him in his element, of him doing something he was obviously passionate about, that was so enchanting that it became impossible to look away from him.

“Where did you see those pictures?”

“You do know that I had to google you because I had no idea who you were, right?”

One thing you managed to learn about Jeonghan is the fact that, if in the right mood, he is a trickster and most of all, a flit. You weren’t even sure that he was aware of what he was doing, it seemed like second nature to him.

He put a hand over his chest, faking being in pain. His face contorted and a pout on his lips.

“I thought we were getting to know each other”.

Seungkwan coughed by your side, finally making you remember that there were people around you and that the entire interaction between you and Jeonghan was being recorded.

There was something about Jeonghan that always seemed to make you forget where you were, that maybe there were people around you. You could only suppose that it was the charm of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who knew how to sweet talk someone.

And Jeonghan knew what he was doing, what kind of words or looks could get a reaction from a woman.

Most of the time while around Jeonghan you had to remind your heart to be calm and quiet. Being around him was a temporary arrangement, as soon as the Olympics started said arrangement would be done and you’d have to go back to your normal life. One that didn’t include Yoon Jeonghan. And you also knew that there wasn’t space for you in his life.

“We’re going to set up the cameras around the ice,” Seungkwan said awkwardly while dragging Verno by the hand.

You watched as the two walked away from you, whispering in secrecy. You could only imagine the kind of things that they were saying. If you knew Seungkwan at all, you were certain that it couldn’t be any good.

“Jeonghan, I ask questions and you answer them. And while one could say that I’m getting to know you, I don’t think it would be possible to say the same thing about me”

Jeongahn's smile was defiant when he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You have a no-bullshit policy, which I should have known, from the start, but I wasn’t expecting someone like you. Although you try really hard to pretend that you’re not, your eyes are kind and you quietly take care of those around you, me included sometimes. You got worried when I was in pain in rehab and when Vernon got hurt it seemed as if you were angry, but you were concerned about him and after that, you asked to have another staff with you so that he wouldn’t need to carry so many things on his own. You and Seungkwan bicker a lot but when he isn’t around for a day you are quieter and your questions have been more direct. That doesn’t make you a lousy documentarist, please don’t think that I’m saying that, you take your job very seriously. I’m saying that you put people above your job. I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to become a documentarist, to begin with, to tell stories”

You stared at him, mouth open wondering just how he had come up with all of that and why he had managed to hit everything right on the stop. Especially the reason why you became a documentarist. It seemed very obvious, yes, but it wasn’t something that you had said.

In fact, your personal life was something that very few people knew. You weren’t one to share your thoughts and what was on your mind with people. Seungkwan was a good friend, but he was a work friend so your personal life was just that, personal. Not that you had someone to share it with, either way.

The apartment was empty when you left and it was in the exact same way and you got back. You were on your own, with no parents, no siblings and most of your friends had given up on you somewhere along the way.

For the longest time, you put your job first. It came before anything and anyone. You were building your career and name at the time so it was hard not to put it first. It was your dream, one that your friends supported at first but were displeased when you decided to put it first.

You had thought that if you made it big on your job if you got hired by a big production company, you’d be able to find the happiness that you had searched for a long time. And while some of it was true, your career was on the right path and you did something you loved, you didn’t have a lot more beyond that going one.

It was become just you and your job.

Was it sad? Yes, but it was also the life you chose.

“Just because I don’t know details of your life, doesn’t mean that I don’t watch you, yn”

You watched as Jeonghan fell for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It didn't make sense, not really. At least not for you. And from the looks of it, for him too.

He was frustrated and completely angry. All those people looking at him, expectations high, waiting for something. He wasn't sure what. For him to fail? To see if he still could do it?

Everything was possible and impossible at the same time.

He couldn't stop his eyes from going after you every time you fell. Somehow, your reaction was the only one that mattered to him. The first few times your face was completely emotionless, as if you were staring at a blank wall. Then Jeonghan fell once again, and again, and again. He stopped counting at 10, but he knew it was much more than that actually. But your gaze, which was fixed on him, became more worried as the minutes passed and he hated being the cause of it.

Somehow, since he met you, only two things were on Jeonghan's mind: skating and you.

He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but you had taken over his every thought. It was as if you had walked through an imaginary door and entered his mind and decided that it was a great place to be.

Even on days when you didn't see each other because there was no recording, he was tempted to talk to you. And on one of those days, he just succumbed to the temptation of picking up the phone and calling you.

“Jeonghan, is everything okay?” was the first thing you said.

He hated that worry was the first emotion he awakened in you. He hated that the first thing you said wasn't "hello" like a normal person. But at the same time, the concern made him feel somehow welcomed. It could, of course, be all in his head, and what he saw as concern for himself was actually concern for the documentary.

"I just wanted to talk," he admitted.

Maybe it was because he had gotten used to talking to you, maybe it was because you offered zero judgment for the way he thought or reacted. Or maybe it was because it was you. Whatever it was, Jeonghan felt comfortable talking to you.

Telling the truth, about everything, was not difficult, in fact, it became something very easy. It was because of you, he knew.

"I realized I don't know anything about you"

You laughed and he listened as you moved through what he imagined to be his apartment.

"That's because I interview you and not the other way around"

He sat on the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him as he supported the rest of his weight on his arms stretched behind him.

"Do you think it's so bad that I know anything about you?"

You remained silent for a few seconds, seeming to think about the idea. It wasn't bad, not at all.

At several moments you found yourself with your cell phone in your hand, ready to send a message or call him. You weren’t sure what, but there was something about Jeonghan that just made you want to tell him everything.

"What do you want to know?" you said with a sigh.

"Whatever you want to share"

The great truth is that very little happened in your life. You lived alone, worked every day, and came home alone. Your last boyfriend, or even a fling, was over a year before. Your friends, if you could call them that, were all from work. Your life was quite still and dull. Even if you wanted to talk about work. Jeonghan was your job. There wasn't much to talk about.

"I don't think I have much to tell" you knew that what you were about to say wasn't the happiest topic in the world, but it was what you had to offer "My mother passed away when I was nineteen, since then I've been alone"

You could still clearly remember the day your father left. There wasn't a fight. He never packed his bag and left. One day he was there when you woke up, he gave you breakfast and took you to school, like he did on most days. But it was his job to pick you up and he never showed up. Your mother showed up instead, her eyes swollen as she did her smile to smile at you and explain to the teacher why she was so late. When you finally got home she said "Now it's just you and me. Daddy had to leave"

For months, years even, you waited for him to come back. You thought one day he would just appear in front of you. You were disappointed when it was your mother who showed up to pick you up when he didn't come to his birthdays when you called the number he had left with his mother and he never answered.

You waited until you turned 18 to go after him. You only had a name, but with that alone, a person can find everything on the internet. You found him in another state, working at a real estate agency. You sat down in front of him and talked for about half an hour. You made up a story about going to college and needing a place to live. You said your name and your mother's name several times, surname and everything, and at no point did he seem to connect one thing to the other. Until the last second, when you said you would think about renting the studio he had suggested, and he walked you to the door. He said, "I left for a reason, don't come back here."

You couldn't believe what you had heard. You couldn't understand why he left and why he never came back. But at that moment you decided that if he didn't want you, you didn't need him. Your mother had worked so hard to make sure you had everything you needed.

Exactly one year later, your mother died in a bizarre car accident. It was like being 7 years old again and losing another person, only in a much more painful way.

"You don’t have any siblings?" Jeonghan's voice on the other end brought you back "Relatives?"

You shook her head, even though you knew he couldn't see you.

"I was an only child, so no siblings. My mom was an orphan so relatives either. My father left when I was a child"

You and Jeonghan spent the whole night on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. From trivial things to more personal matters. His delight upon learning that you didn’t have a boyfriend didn’t go unnoticed. 

Calls and messages became commonplace between the two of you. Your heart raced every time a new message arrived and it was hard to hide your disappointment when you realized it wasn't from him. On days when you didn't see each other, you would stare at your phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting for him to call.

So you hoped he understood when you shook your head in his direction, a request written on your face. That's enough for today, you can try more tomorrow, you hoped he would understand.

Instead of trying one more time after he fell once again, he skated to the edge of the ice. His face was red from the effort, and his chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm trying to force air back into his lungs.

"I want everyone out," he said, his voice broken.

Seungkwan and Vernon didn't even question it, they simply started putting away the equipment. Jihoon, who had shown up unexpectedly to "supervise" didn't seem to understand what was going on, but turned to help Vernon.

Jeonghan's coach was the only one who approached him, his hand on the athlete's shoulder.

"Go home, rest. Tomorrow we try again"

Jeonghan shook his head. He would only get out of there after managing to make the damn jump, even if he had to stay the whole night.

"Just half an hour more, but I want to be alone"

The coach clearly didn't like the idea, but he knew it was stupid to try and make Jeonghan change his mind.

You turned to him, looking at his face, trying to figure out if he was in pain or if he was just being a big blockhead. Without giving yourself the luxury of thinking about what you were doing, you placed your hand over Jeonghan's and squeezed for a second. You hoped he understood what you meant.

"You have to rest"

You knew everyone was watching, that despite saying they were leaving they weren't actually moving. Jeonghan didn't seem to care and for a moment you decided not to care either.

“Stay,” he said softly, so only you could hear him “please.”

Some strands of hair were stuck to Jeonghan's face, you wanted to get them out of his face, but caution spoke louder. You looked over your shoulder and everyone was still looking at the two of you, but as soon as they noticed your gaze they started moving again. Seungkwan shouted “We’re leaving” and seconds later the door slammed.

Finally, you were alone.

“You have to rest,” you said again.

You took advantage of the fact that no one else was there and removed the strands of hair stuck to his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Jeonghan sighed, his eyes closing as he leaned towards you. Just that little touch wasn't enough.

“I need to get it right”

"If you stop now and rest you will know what you are doing wrong"

A half smile shined on Jeonghan's face as he leaned further into the barrier, his face just inches away from his.

"My ego loves it when you say I'm doing something wrong”

You pushed him back, needing a little bit more space to yourself. He was too close, you could feel his breath on your nose and cheeks. It was suddenly as if the world was made of Yoon Jeonghan, it was just him and no one else. 

“I’m sure your ego will be just fine”

Instead of pulling your hand back, you allowed it to stay in his chest. Jeonghan smiled for a second before pressing his hand over yours. 

“Just another 30 minutes” he repeated what he said to his coach “I promise I’ll stop in precisely 30 minutes”

You nodded with a sigh. There was nothing you could do to stop him. Something told you that even if you threatened him to leave he would stay and practice, he would stay on the ice for far more than just 30 minutes if you weren’t around. 

So you sat down and waited for him. And he fell time and time again, his face growing displeased with himself at each passing second, each time he jumped but didn't manage to land. 

Jeonghan had done that same jump countless times before with ease as if one's body would simply perform such movements. To him, it always seemed as easy as walking. You had seen it in all of his videos, almost in trance by him. 

“If you’re not done in twenty-one minutes” you pretended to look at your imaginary watch “I’m taking you out of there by force”

Jeonghan threw his head back, laughing. 

“Remember when you said that you never skated before?” Jeonghan asked after finally being able to breathe properly again.

You weren’t too sure how, but he had stopped after 30 minutes. A big smile on his face after he managed to land the jump after so many tries. After getting it right once, he didn’t get it wrong again. It was like something clicked inside his brain as if he had found the last missing piece of the puzzle.

Of all the things you said to Jeonghan, from the most personal to the most trivial, that was, by far, the only one you regretted. You had told him over the phone but he looked horrified, it was easy to imagine the wide eyes on his face.

But him standing there, in front of you, with a smile that could only be seen on the face of a mischievous child, said much more than any words he could utter.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, already moving back.

You had learned several peculiarities about Jeonghan in all the months you spent by his side, and one of the most glaring was the look in his eyes when he was about to do something he shouldn't.

“You have to try, at least once” his lips were a mixture of a smile and a pout “You will have the best teacher in the world”

You saw it and shook your head again.

“I can’t trust a teacher who spent the day falling” you pointed to the rink behind him.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You didn't know if your words would offend him, you hoped he knew it wasn't your intention. But you also knew that hell was paved with good intentions. Jeonghan was silent for a minute, his face serious, his eyes not leaving yours for an entire minute.

Then he smiled, his nose wrinkling a little as he laughed, loudly. It didn't take long for you to join him.

“You’re evil,” he said, trying to control himself, but failing “This way you’re going to break my heart”

“I think there are few things in this world that can break your heart.”

You would definitely be one of them, Jeonghan wanted to say, but he held his tongue in his mouth. He knew he couldn't say that, he knew that any word said wrongly could simply ruin everything he had built so far. If he could even say he built something. He liked to think so.

From the first time you spoke, Jeonghan knew there was no going back, at least for him. He had never done anything like that. He had never called someone in the middle of the night simply because he wanted to hear someone's voice. And in this case, it wasn't just someone's voice, it was your voice that he wanted to hear.

With each passing sentence, Jeonghan found himself falling more in love with you and he wasn't able to say why. Maybe he could blame it on your eyes, always so focused, but somehow when they turned to him, they seemed so sweet and sincere. Or your voice, which gave orders and asked incisive questions, but as soon as the cameras were turned off it became gentle and almost shy. Maybe it was the fact that you seemed like a lioness when you were working, never giving space for unfounded questions, but you were shy when it was just the two of you alone.

He liked this version of you, who was right in front of him, who seemed completely comfortable with him, to the point of making jokes — something that until that moment you hadn't done yet.

“We always have extra pairs in the back, I'm sure one of them is your size” he had made sure you would, with Seungkwan's help of course “And then we try it, what do you think?”

Even though you were shaking your head, you went to the closet where you knew the skates were stored.

With your knees bent and shaking, you stepped onto the ice and immediately regretted giving in to Jeonghan's will. You didn't know how he had managed it, but in the closet, there was a brand new pair of skates, your size. Jeonghan had smiled as he bent down to tie your shoelaces,

“I’m going to fall flat on my face,” you said as you grabbed the bars.

Jeonghan held your face in his hands, your eyes fixed on his.

“I won’t let you fall”

The way the words left his lips made your heart skip a beat, or maybe several of them. You could feel it on the back of your throat and you could swear that your hands shook a little as you accepted the hand Jeonghan had extended to you. 

You wished it could just stop. Not for your heart to stop beating altogether but for it to stop reacting to Jeonghan. Everything changed after that first call and you weren’t too sure of where it was. He had, someway, somehow, become a pivotal point of you. His voice, his eyes. The way tingles started to run down through your body the moment his skin came in touch with yours. How, despite all odds, he made you feel safe in a way you weren’t too sure you had ever experienced before.

When he said that he wasn’t going to you fall, you believed him so you held his hands — strong enough that you were sure were hurting him but he didn't seem to mind — and allowed Jeonghan to pull you into the rink. 

“Don't move your feet” he said, voice ever so sweet but with a slight hint of teasing “I know it's probably hard, but let me take control here”

Forcing out all of the remaining air inside your lungs, you did as he asked. Instead of keeping your focus on the ice under your feet, you kept them in Jeonghan's face. A mistake, of course. 

His eyes were too intense if you could say that. You didn't want to understand what was happening. Perhaps for the first time since you met Jeonghan, you didn't want to understand what it could mean. You were scared. What, exactly, you weren’t sure.

“I didn’t even have to ask you to look at me,” he said and you laughed a little, automatically looking away “Keep looking at me”

The whole experience of skating for the first time, or being guided, was not being registered by your brain. All you could see, think, feel, was Jeonghan, as if he had become a central point of everything.

“I think we should stop here”

You hoped your voice was loud enough and judging by the look on Jeonghan's face, it was. The smile fell from his lips and it was as if a small light in his eyes had gone out.

You hated that you were the one causing that reaction in him, but you knew it was best to stop everything before it went too far.

"I thought that…"

“We can’t blur the lines that much” you shook your head.

You didn't know exactly who you were trying to convince, him or you. You also weren't sure you had to convince yourself of anything. It was as if your brain had split in two. One part, probably the loudest, wanted you to just let things happen. You knew you weren't doing anything wrong, you weren't doing anything much really. What you did outside of your working hours and who you did it with was your problem and no one else's.

But the other part, one that spoke softly and that should have had much less strength, said it was dangerous, but also didn't offer much reason to be dangerous.

Yet somehow, that was the side you chose to listen to.

"Why?" He asked forcing his feet to the ground, making the two of you stand in the center of the rink. “What line are we blurring?”

You shook your head, hands clinging to his waist as you felt your feet begin to slide.

“I don’t know” you whispered in response “We are working”

Jeonghan leaned forward and pressed his lips to your cheek. With a sigh, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder and closed his eyes.

You didn't know exactly where your skepticism came from, but you were also sure it wasn't completely unfounded. But truth be told, you wanted to blur that line and any others that might appear along the way.

“Go on a date with me,” he said “If you still feel that way, there’s nothing we can do. Just don’t… don’t stop something that hasn’t even started yet”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @mhlsymlysn, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @yeeyoop0206, @tomodachiii, @sofix-hc7, @scarlet789, @moonlightgrleric, @r6njunlv, @mixling-blog, @cinnamongirl127, @haowonbins, @valgracia, @slut4donghyuck, @manutuankim, @shuabby1994, @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan, @plumings, @shuasdrafts, @aaasia111, @dreamsbloomout

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#k-labels #svt smut #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan x you #jeonghan #seventeen fluff #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan #svt fluff #svt angst #jeonghan smut #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst

[wheeboo]

"pretty." | yoon jeonghan

SYNOPSIS. in which jeonghan calls you pretty. PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. one kiss on the cheek, terms of endearment, jeonghan just being down bad and whipped for you lmao WORD COUNT. 1k

notes: because who wouldn't wnt to write something from that clip of him kissing gyu on the cheek cuz he's pretty?? anyway. can u tell that my fav word is pretty...

Jeonghan finds you pretty.

Pretty like... the first rays of dawn painting the sky in streaks of colours. Not like a fiery and blazing sunrise, but a soft, hesitant awakening; the hush before the world truly stirs to life.

His gaze lingers on your quiet form right next to him, eyes tracing the path of sunlight across your cheek peeking in from the shutters of the window, the way it seems to kiss the curve of your jawline and dance in the strands of your hair. A sleepy smile forms at his own lips, head tilting slightly as he lets out the quietest of chuckles.

Pretty like... the way a flower blooms. Each petal peeks out from the bud, hesitant at first, then unfurling with a contented sigh. Like the way you smile, Jeonghan thinks, merely a shy bloom starting at the corners of your lips before blossoming into the radiant sunflower that he always believes that you are.

Your chest rises up and down rhythmically, lips twitching ever so slightly, and Jeonghan wonders what kind of dreams must be playing in your mind𑁋if he should at all try to intervene and chase away the frequent nightmares that sometimes visit, and the clouds that occasionally cast shadows on your peaceful expression.

Pretty like... a book whose cover is worn and flimsy, its pages softened by countless turns and accidental (and intentional) rips, yet the ink still vibrantly tells tales of laughter and tears, of mishaps and misfortunes, of you. But even with this, the spine of the book remains unbroken.

Jeonghan remembers you reading a book last night, an older story if he recalls. He remembers the way your brows furrowed in concentration, hands clutched on the worn paperback, and how your lips moved silently, mouthing words only your heart could hear. He remembers the way your eyes lit up when you turned a page and nudged at his side to get his attention even if he didn't know what the story was about, a flicker of joy to your face like a firefly illuminating the room and the night skies.

Suddenly, a vibration snaps Jeonghan awake at this point, focus darting towards the unwelcomed presence of his phone on the nightstand. The screen casts a harsh light against the gentle morning glow, and Jeonghan reluctantly detaches himself to reach over for it, noting incoming messages from his members about their scheduled practice for later today, the words blurring slightly as sleep clings stubbornly to his eyelids. He quickly types out a message before silencing his phone, and then he shoots a contemplative glance back to you, before slipping out of the sheets and tip-toeing out of the bedroom.

Pretty like... the first sip of morning coffee. Not a jolt of bitter heat, but a warm caress on the tongue, enough to awaken the senses slowly. Jeonghan moves silently throughout your shared space, not wanting to disturb your peace. The aroma of brewing coffee wafts through the air, intertwining with the lingering traces of dawn and the new day ahead.

Carefully pouring a cup for himself, Jeonghan adds a sprinkle of cinnamon on top, the scent swirling like a mini-tornado and playfully tickling his nose. He remembers how you once told him you associate cinnamon with warmth and comfort, and a soft smile graces his lips.

He glides through the rest of his morning routine with practiced ease, mindful not to disturb your slumber, the quietness only punctuated by the occasional soft melody hummed under his breath of one of his songs. As time continues to pass, nearing to when he has to leave, Jeonghan glances at the numbers displayed on his phone, and a tinge of bittersweetness settles in his stomach. A tiny frown creases across his brow as he sets down his empty coffee cup and smooths over the fabric of his shirt with a sigh.

Heading back into the bedroom, he finds you still slumbering on the bed, the streaks of morning light painting over your cheeks. Jeonghan trots over to the window and gently adjusts the shutters, letting in a wider ray of sunlight that dances across your nose.

A creak from the bed tells him you're stirring, and he turns just in time to see your eyes flutter open. Sunlight spills across your face, bathing over your features like honey, and his breath catches in his throat, as if he'd just swallowed a handful of butterflies. You look even more beautiful than the dawn, he thinks.

A sleepy yawn escapes you, stretching your arms above your head, your eyes still closed shut from the light.

"Hannie...?" You mumble out, and Jeonghan is swift to come racing to your side, sitting himself down at the edge of the bed right beside you.

"Morning, angel," he says softly, letting a finger push back a few loose strands of hair flying over your face. "I was about to tell you that I'm leaving."

Your eyes flutter open just slightly, just enough to catch the small curve to your boyfriend's lips, yet mind still cloudy with sleep to even process it. "Hmm... what time is it?"

"Still early. You can go back to sleep," Jeonghan tells you reassuringly. "I just wanted to see your face before I leave."

His words send a faint smile to play across your lips.

"Why do you always have to leave so early?" You ask, voice raspy with sleep.

Jeonghan lets his hand lace with yours on the sheets, the warmth spreading through your fingers and coursing through your body.

"Work calls, love," he says, voice soft but laced with a playful tone. "But you know I wouldn't leave if I didn't have to."

A low groan leaves your mouth as your adjust yourself further into the comfort of the bed while still not letting go of his hand, your eyes fluttering closed again. Jeonghan just chuckles at your sulky antics, and you feel the way his finger caresses lightly over your knuckle.

Pretty like... a diamond ring glinting in the soft morning light, a promise of forever shimmering between them. He knows with a certainty settled deep in his bones that one day he'll slide that very ring onto your finger. But for now, the promise waits beneath the surface, a secret shared only by the gentle stroke of his thumb against your skin and the way his gaze lingers a little longer than necessary on your face𑁋hair messy and clinging to the pillow, eyes closed shut once more, yet you've never looked more beautiful to him.

And so, Jeonghan leans down, lips meeting in a feathery kiss at the skin of your cheek just below your eye. He lingers there for a moment, savouring the warmth of your skin against his own, before lowering himself down just next to your ear.

"Pretty," he whispers softly, simply, and irrevocably in love.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziees @mirxzii @bookyeom

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[thepixelelf]

ah! love - 2

genres: married life au, family au, fluff, comedy [best friends to lovers?] relationship: husbands 95 line x reader (feat. baby doremi line) words: 3.4k warnings and notes: mentions of alcohol; coarse language. y'all wanted more and so did I. any stuff in this au will likely not be chronological. I literally had to think about how to tell a kid they're adopted for this it sucked. (I still love it)

ah! love masterlist

Seungkwan learns a new word.

Seungkwan, like all other five (and a half!) year-olds, knows everything.

He knows how to cook eggs and how many sides an octagon has. He knows to always ask papa Jeonghan for extra sweets because he's the only one who ever says yes after you've said no. (His other parents also say yes, sometimes, if you've left the room, but Jeonghan is always the fastest to cave.) He knows Chan is a baby who doesn't know anything. 

And he knows he and Vernon are The Twins.

Because when it's time for dinner, and Seungkwan is playing with Vernon in their room, papa Joshua always asks you, "Can you grab the twins?"

When papa Seungcheol comes home from (well, hm, maybe Seungkwan doesn't know everything) wherever he goes when they go to kindergarten, he kisses you on the cheek in the entryway, kicks off his shoes, then crouches down, arms open and awaiting for Seungkwan and Vernon to barrel into them, and growls happily, "There are my twins!" 

And when he found you in the kitchen one night, while you were sitting on the counter (which is not allowed!!), with papa Jeonghan standing between your legs for reasons unclear to Seungkwan, you both looked surprised. Seungkwan concluded this was because papa Jeonghan had just whispered, "The twins are asleep," and Seungkwan was, in fact, not. 

Which is why he scoffs at the older girl who came up to him and Vernon on the playground. Vernon is busy building his sand tunnels, but the girl has Seungkwan's full attention.

"You are not twins," she says.

"Yes we are."

She is unrelenting. "No. My big brothers are twins, and they look exactly the same."

Seungkwan looks over at Vernon, who's now mixing wet sand and dry sand into a big ol' pile of sand soup. They don't look alike at all, he knows. His hair is black, and Vernon's is brown. His cheeks are rounder — sometimes you pretend to bite into them before planting a kiss — while Vernon's are a bit pinker.

"We are twins," Seungkwan says again, because maybe not all twins are like her big brothers. Maybe some twins are like him and Vernon.

Besides, his papas say they're twins. Why wouldn't they be?

The girl crosses her arms. "My big brothers have the same birthday."

Seungkwan is about to bite back, say something like maybe not all twins have the same birthday, meanie! but Vernon waves his hand in the air, yelling out, "Ms Han!" 

Their teacher comes over, bending and putting her hands on her knees as she asks Vernon what's going on.

He points at the girl. "She's saying we're not twins because we don't have the same birthday."

"Oh." Ms Han scratches the back of her neck, "Well, sweetie, the thing is…"

⭒

Jeonghan's shaky eyes glance at the rear-view mirror again, half checking for cars and half checking up on the babies in the back seat.

Seungkwan has been quiet the entire eight minutes they've been driving, which might be normal if he was any kindergartner other than Seungkwan. Vernon can get talkative too, but right now he's completely silent, immersed in squishing and un-squishing his favourite toy — a plushie shaped like a baked bean (Jeonghan has no idea where you found that thing or why Vernon is obsessed with it) — between his tiny fingers. 

Of course, Jeonghan had to be the one on pick-up duty the day one of their teachers finally gave them the whole, you may have to explain adoption talk. 

"So," he says, awkward, trying to smile. "How was school?"

Vernon squeezes his toy again. "It was," he says, and nothing else.

God, Jeonghan needs backup.

As soon as Jeonghan pulls up to the house, unbuckles the twins from their booster seats, and ushers them inside, Vernon pulls off his shoes and dashes into the house — to you, Jeonghan is sure. Vernon doesn't play favourites except that he does.

Seungkwan, though, looks up at Jeonghan and tugs his pant leg, saying, "Papa Shua wants to talk to you in his room."

Which isn't true, of course; Seungkwan hasn't been all of thirty seconds in the house, and Joshua isn't even home, out on an errand. But Jeonghan can take a social cue, even if it is from a five year old. As he climbs the stairs, he pulls out his phone and messages the guys to try to come home as soon as they can.

⭒

You're reading to Chan on the living room couch, him tucked under your left arm and a quiet Vernon who's wormed his way under your right arm clutching your shirt like you're both afloat in open water, when Seungkwan walks up, climbs onto your lap, (shoving the book out of the way in the process,) and presses his face into your stomach. He mumbles something you can't quite hear.

You chuckle, bringing a hand up to run over his soft hair. "What's that, baby?"

Slowly, he lifts his head, his eyelids low with the gaze of a war-hardened veteran. "They're lying," he says, no nonsense in sight.

Your hand pauses. "Huh?"

"We gotta leave. They lied. Could be lying about anything."

You try to smile past the confusion. "What do you mean?"

Seungkwan, sweet, adorable, chubby-cheeked Seungkwan whom you love with all your heart, fists the material of your top in both his hands, growling in a way you somehow know is protective. 

"We gotta get outta here."

⭒-⭒-⭒

"Please get me out of here."

Joshua snorted at your plea, his voice soft and teasing through the phone. “What happened to ‘living out your twenties’?”

You let your eyes roam over your surroundings — a house party (a frat one in particular, you were pretty sure) with flashing coloured lights, late 2000’s top 40 songs, and what must've been over a hundred drunken 18-22 year olds. A haze hung in the air that smelled like the unholy combination of cotton candy, root beer, green apple, and skunk. A younger friend you’d made at your internship had invited you, but they were nowhere to be seen.

“I take it back,” you said, walking through the house in search of your friend. “I’m old now. I’m a hermit.”

“You’re not old.”

You scoffed. “You’re only saying that because you don’t wanna admit you’re old.”

“No, I’m serious,” Joshua argued, though you could tell he was smiling as he spoke. “We’re only like a quarter of the way through our lives— there’s still so much ahead.”

“Okay Socrates, whatever.” You pulled your phone away from your ear when you felt it vibrate. Your friend answered your last message, telling you they were heading home to take care of another friend they trust, and that they’d text you when they got there. “I’m just trying to get out of here so I can go home, steep a nice cup of decaf tea, and, I dunno, take up knitting or something. Granny style.”

Some shuffling happened on the other end of the line, and you thought you heard Joshua say something, but not to you.

“Anyway,” you sighed, winding your way through the crowd to finally leave that steam room of a house party. “I just called to complain. I’m gonna call a taxi.”

“Don’t bother. I’m on my way.”

You paused, your hand on a stair railing. “What?”

“I’m coming to pick you up,” Joshua spoke with all the nonchalance of someone ordering coffee.

Glancing at your phone screen, you countered with, “It’s almost midnight.”

“Yeah, well, I’m already driving, so it’d actually be more inconsiderate of you to tell me to turn around if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Joshua…”

"Shush," he tutted. "Just stay on the line with me until I get there. And drink some water if you can." There was a pause as you heard noises through the phone. Joshua added, "But only if you find a sealed water bottle, or pour the water yourself."

You finally reached the front entrance, content to wait outdoors for your unexpected ride since the weather wasn't too bad. "Do I sound drunk to you?"

"You didn't drink?"

"I mean, I had one," you said with a shrug he couldn't even see. 

"Well maybe that explains why you're not having a good time."

"You're such a bad influence, Shua."

"Saying that to your designated driver is so rude, just so you know."

"I didn't ask you to DD!"

Joshua sighed playfully. "Yeah, yeah. As if you don't know we'd do anything for you."

Mouth open, you fumbled with what words to say in your head.

Did you know that? Maybe you did.

You knew that if you and Joshua had switched places, you would've done exactly the same thing he was doing now.

And why did he say "we"?

Before you could vocalize anything, Joshua said, "I see you. Turn around."

And there it was— Joshua's tiny, bright blue hatchback, affectionately dubbed the Blueberry by you and your three boys.

Speaking of whom…

"Jeonghan?" You blinked at the man in the passenger seat when he rolled down the window.

"Hey, devil," he let the nickname fall from his lips with a smirk. It was a new one, this moniker for you, his payback for you jokingly calling him an angel. He jerked his head in a gesture towards the back seat. "We're busting you out of this joint."

You huffed out a laugh at his joke, yanking open the back door of the Blueberry. Immediately, a pair of large, grabby hands pulled you inside. "Whoa— Seungcheol, you too?"

Too tired apparently to answer with words, Seungcheol only nodded, reaching over your shoulder to take your seatbelt, extend it over you, and buckle it in. He settled back down in the middle seat rather than the more spacious one on the other side of the car. Closing his eyes and crossing his arms, he relaxed his entire body and let his head fall onto your shoulder, all without a word.

"Were you asleep?" you asked him quietly as Joshua pulled away from the curb.

Seungcheol just breathed in deeply and leaned more of his weight on you.

"Guys…" You turned your attention to the two boys in front. "You didn't have to drag him along too. Did you wake him up for this?"

Joshua scoffed. "As if. You think I'd poke a sleeping bear on purpose?"

Twisting in his seat to face you, Jeonghan smiled in that sweet yet devious way you like so much. "He was worried about you all night, devil. Paced around the apartment for two hours, going on and on about 'kids these days' before he tired himself out and zonked on the couch. We tried to leave quietly, but he woke up and insisted on coming once he found out it was you on the phone."

"Oh," you said at the same time you thought you heard Seungcheol mumble, "Shut up."

You softly patted Seungcheol's arm, your fingers brushing against his with the way his hands were wrapped around his own biceps. "You know I can take care of myself, right?"

Seungcheol didn't answer, as you should've expected. Eyes still closed, he just flexed his fingers to hook one around your pinky and keep your hand where it was.

Meeting your eyes in the rear-view mirror, Joshua said, "We'd better get him home before he actually falls asleep back there. No way am I carrying him up the stairs."

"What do ya say, devil?" Jeonghan prompted. "Sleepover at ours?"

You smiled. "How could I ever say no to you guys?"

⭒-⭒-⭒

"Seungkwan," you say softly, a little bit confused and a little bit amused. "Who's lying?"

He sits up on your lap and cups both his hands around his mouth, only to not-really-whisper, "Parents."

"Me?" You point at yourself.

"Nooooooo!" Seungkwan whines with a pout, putting his hands on your shoulders. "Our other parents!"

You think about how Jeonghan was the one who went to pick up the boys from kindergarten... and how he's nowhere in sight now. "Papa Jeonghan is lying?"

Seungkwan nods emphatically, and to your surprise, Vernon nods too at your side. Chan sits in rapt attention of his older brother, who is probably blowing his four year old mind.

"And papa Shua," Seungkwan adds. "And papa Seungcheol."

You furrow your brows and tilt your head. "What are they lying about?"

"They said we are twins," Seungkwan finally reveals, and it starts to dawn on you. His words become frantic, voice wavering. "But Ms Han said we can't be twins because we have different birthdays, so we can't be twins bio-- bio--" He hiccups. "--logically."

"That's a big word," you say, because it's a struggle to respond with anything else right away. What-- Ms Han is teaching biology now?

Vernon gets out from under your arm and sits on his knees beside you on the couch. He holds up his hand for a high five. "Biologically."

Still a bit shocked, you high five him, then Seungkwan when he also puts his hand up. To be fair, that's what you do when they learn new, long words. The tears brimming in Seungkwan's eyes shouldn't deter learning encouragement, right?

"That's why we gotta go." Seungkwan sniffles. "Maybe they lie to you also. Maybe they are not biologically your husbands!"

God-- the parenting books don't teach shit like this.

"Seungkwan..." you start, though you don't know how to form the next sentence.

Vernon takes your hand and wraps all his tiny fingers around it. "Let's run away," he says with a determined nod, like a secret lover in a fairy tale.

Chan's eyes widen, and he throws himself around your middle. "I gonna save you!"

"Boys-- Wait--"

The front door bursts open to reveal a dishevelled Seungcheol. His hair is wild and fluffy, his tie loosened, and his suit jacket is in his hand rather than worn. He's barely thrown his shoes off by the time he catches sight of Seungkwan's teary eyes and your slightly-panicked expression. Immediately, he jogs towards the couch in, to you, obvious concern. "What's going on--"

But before he can get too close, Seungkwan lets out a terrified, demon-like shriek. He picks up the closest item -- the storybook you'd been reading to Chan -- and chucks it as hard as he can towards your husband.

It only hits the floor at Seungcheol's feet, but it causes him to freeze. He gawks at the book, then raises his head to look at you and the way your boys have all wrapped their little arms as tight as they can around whatever parts of you they can reach, their heads tucked in, hiding.

You can see it in his eyes-- him registering that they're scared of him.

"I--" His expression tightens, lips pressing together to stop from quivering.

From seemingly nowhere, Jeonghan appears, putting a comforting hand on Seungcheol's arm and pulling him out of the room. He whispers, "Let's give them a minute."

Both your husbands make eye contact with you as you tentatively hug your sons, and you nod, silently letting them know that you'll be okay.

("What the hell was that?" Seungcheol whispers harshly as soon as he and Jeonghan make it upstairs. "You said to come home ASAP-- I thought someone got hurt!"

Jeonghan crosses his arms. "Why wouldn't I just say someone was hurt?"

"You have got to be clearer in your texts.")

"Seungkwan." You readjust your body, trying not to jostle your sons too much. "Seungkwan, baby, can you look at me please?"

He lifts his head to meet your eyes.

"Did Ms Han tell you what 'biologically' means?"

Seungkwan's face scrunches up as he tries to find an answer to your question, and in that moment, Vernon sits up. "Real," he says.

"Now, that's not quite right," you tell them, and at that, all three of your boys look at you for an explanation. "A 'biological parent' is one of two people who made a baby, and that is their 'biological child."

The boys stay quiet, taking in the information. Thank goodness-- you don't want to have to skirt around the topic of "making" children.

"Biological twins," you continue, "are when two babies are made together, at the same time. Which is why they have the same birthday."

"We are not twins," Vernon reaffirms.

"That's right."

Seungkwan frowns. "Why do you call us 'the twins'?"

"It's just a nickname, sweetie. You and Vernon were born in the same year, and you do everything together, so for me and your other parents, you are kind of like twins." You smile. "Do you want us to stop calling you that? It's okay if you don't like it."

Putting a hand on his chin, Seungkwan ponders seriously for more than a few seconds.

"You can always change your mind at any time, okay?" you say, and he nods, continuing to think.

Chan tugs at your sleeve, and you turn to him. "Are you bio...ly marry?"

You chuckle. "No. Marriage is a little different-- your papas and I decided we wanted to be a family, so we chose each other, and to stay together. And now..." You boop Chan's nose, then Seungkwan's then Vernon's. "...you boys are part of our family, too."

Vernon perks up. "Did you choose us too?"

"Yup." You reach up a hand to ruffle through his brown hair. "And you know what? That makes you special. I may not be your biological parent, but I chose you three to be my sons, and I love you so much. That makes me your parent, don't you think?"

All three boys nod, Vernon still beaming, and Chan's hands clutching your sleeve. Seungkwan relaxes in your lap.

You hear the sound of the front door opening again, and, much slower than the last person, Joshua enters the house with two bags full of groceries. Chan pushes himself off you and slides off the couch to run towards Joshua, bouncing in front of him with his arms in the air. "Uppies."

Without a second beat, Joshua puts down the grocery bags on the bench by the door and scoops Chan into his arms. He walks up to the couch. "I just got Jeonghan's text. What's going on?"

You just smile and shake your head, taking one of Seungkwan's and Vernon's hands in each of yours. "And you know your papas love you more than anything too, right?"

While the boys nod, Joshua just blinks, totally lost. Chan hugs him tighter.

"I bet Seungcheol is a little bit sad about how you guys acted when he got home--"

Seungkwan pouts and drops his head. "I'm sorry..."

You squeeze his hand. "You don't have to be sorry, baby." You tighten your hand around Vernon's as well. "Either of you. You didn't understand something and it made you scared. That's okay. But now Seungcheol might not understand something, so we should help him, right?"

"How?" Vernon asks.

You tap your chin and look upwards, pretending to think. "Hmmm... How about we go upstairs and give him a biiiiiig hug!"

It turns out to be a great idea, because you find Seungcheol in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking desolate. Seungkwan and Vernon climb him like monkeys, though, and they wrap themselves around him, press kisses to his face, and as soon as you mouth to Seungcheol that you'll explain later, all is right in the world again.

There's no brighter a smile on Cheol's face than when he's with his sons.

You stand, watching, with your arms crossed, satisfied with the scene until Jeonghan comes up and stands next to you, mimicking your stance. You swat at his arm, to which he reacts with such a pained facial expression, you'd think you just cut it off.

"I cannot believe you abandoned me to deal with that on my own!"

"Hey! I called for backup, didn't I?"

You roll your eyes. "A load of good that did."

"Aw, c'mon, devil..." Jeonghan slides closer to you, then wraps his arms around you and leans in to press his lips to your cheek. "Can I kiss it better?"

⭒

Joshua watches you and the twins run into Seungcheol's room with no further explanation, and he turns his attention to the youngest in his arms. "You wouldn't happen to know what's going on, would you?"

Chan shakes his head. "I'm four."

"Right."

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #poly svt x reader #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #scoups x reader #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x reader #joshua hong scenarios #joshua hong imagines #joshua hong x reader #choi seungcheol scenarios #choi seungcheol imagines #choi seungcheol x reader #yoon jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x reader #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

[hoshifighting]

Tease and Release

Synopsis: Where Jeonghan is a fucking tease, and you freak out.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, orgasm denial, degradation, teasing, edging, sensory deprivation, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, orgasm control, overstimulation and etc.

This smut was crafted based on a request by my lovely moot, Asyre. love you so much! I hope you enjoy the smut!

Jeonghan, with his tousled hair and mischievous grin, was your boyfriend, a master of teasing with a penchant for mischief that seemed to dance in his eyes. His teasing wasn't born out of malice or any wrongdoing on your part; it was simply ingrained in his nature, a playful spirit that delighted in seeing you squirm and blush.

But perhaps his favorite moments were those when he could coax a request from your lips with nothing more than a coy smile and a knowing glint in his eye. Your doe eyes, filled with desire, never failed to captivate him. He found an irresistible allure in the way you begged for something, your voice soft and pleading, your hands clasped together in a silent plea.

Jeonghan now hovered over you, his eyes dark with hunger as he held your trembling legs still, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You like that, don't you?" he purred, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Begging for more, just like I knew you would."

You moaned softly, unable to form coherent words as the sensations overwhelmed you. Jeonghan's touch was electrifying, his fingers trailing along your skin with a feather-light touch that left you gasping for air.

"Tell me how much you want it," he demanded, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of amusement. "Tell me how badly you need me to take control."

Your breath hitched as you struggled to find your voice, your mind clouded with desire. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. "I need you. I need you to...to..."

Jeonghan's lips curled into a wicked grin as he leaned in closer, his gaze burning into yours. "To what?" he taunted, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "To fuck you senseless? To make you scream my name until you can't think of anything else?"

You nodded frantically, your body arching towards him as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. "Yes," you gasped, your voice raw with need. "Yes, please...I need you to fuck me. I need you to make me yours."

Jeonghan's laughter filled the room, a sound that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. "That's it, my little slut," he murmured, his words sending a shockwave of arousal straight to your core. "You're mine now. Mine to use however I please."

Jeonghan's touch was maddeningly slow, his fingers tracing teasing circles around your swollen clit as you writhed beneath him, desperate for release. Your mascara was ruined, black streaks running down your cheeks from the tears of frustration mingling with pleasure. The sheets beneath you were soaked, evidence of your arousal that only seemed to fuel Jeonghan's desire further.

He reveled in denying you the release you so desperately craved, prolonging your torment with each agonizing minute that passed. His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he watched you squirm and whimper, your pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

"Please," you begged, your voice hoarse with need. "Please, Jeonghan, I can't take it anymore. I need to come."

But Jeonghan only chuckled darkly, his fingers continuing their relentless assault on your sensitive flesh. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're going to beg for it, sweetheart. Beg for your release like the desperate little slut you are."

You moaned in frustration, the ache between your legs becoming almost unbearable. Every nerve in your body screamed for release, your muscles tense with the effort of holding back your climax.

Jeonghan's cock slid into you with agonizing slowness, filling you inch by inch until you thought you might burst with the overwhelming sensation. But just as quickly as he entered, he pulled back, leaving you aching and empty, your body instinctively reaching for the penetration that had been abruptly taken away.

You whimpered in frustration, your pussy throbbing with need as Jeonghan teased you mercilessly, entering lightly before pulling out again, each movement driving you closer to the brink of madness. Your hips bucked against him, desperate for more, but he held you firmly in place, denying you the release you so desperately craved.

But Jeonghan only chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he continued to torment you with his slow, teasing movements. He loved to see you like this, your body writhing with desire as you surrendered to his control.

Your breath hitched at his words, desire coursing through your veins as you nodded frantically, your body aching for more of him.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Say you need me to fuck you. Say it, and maybe I'll give you what you want."

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you surrendered to his will. "I need you to fuck me," you breathed, your words filled with desperation. "Please, Jeonghan, please..."

But instead of granting your request, Jeonghan pulled back, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you squirm beneath him.

"You're going to have to beg a little harder than that." he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Your frustration boiled over, and with a surge of anger, you screamed at Jeonghan, your voice laced with frustration.

"What the hell are you doing?!" you exclaimed, your chest heaving with pent-up emotions. "Stop teasing me and just fuck me already!"

Jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise at your sudden outburst, but there was a glint of something deeper beneath the surface—a flicker of admiration for your newfound assertiveness.

He didn't respond immediately, instead letting the tension between you linger in the air for a moment longer. And then, with a predatory smile, he decided to "correct" your attitude.

Without a word, he sank his dick deep inside of your cunt, filling you completely for the first time that night. Your scream pierced the air, but this time it was a cry of pleasure, not frustration, as pleasure washed over you in waves.

As you moaned and writhed beneath him, Jeonghan's lips curled into a smirk of satisfaction. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he spoke in a low, husky voice.

"See how you talk to me, slut?" he murmured, his tone dripping with dominance. "You want me to fuck you? You want to feel me deep inside you? Then you better learn to ask nicely."

You shivered at his words, a thrill coursing through your veins at the commanding tone of his voice. Despite the initial shock of his sudden assertiveness, you found yourself responding to it, craving more of his dominance, more of his touch.

The headboard rattled against the wall with each thunderous thrust, the sound echoing through the room as Jeonghan pounded into you with relentless force. His balls slapped against your ass, a rhythmic percussion that fueled the fire of your desire.

His cock drove into you with such intensity that it almost reached your cervix, every stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. He looked like an animal now, his primal instincts taking over as he fucked you without a care in the world for the neighbors who might hear or the mess your poor, messy cunt was making around his big cock.

"Mmm...fuck," he groaned, the sound reverberating through the room. "You feel so good, baby. Your cunt...so tight around my cock..."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you knew you weren't allowed to cum, not yet. So, you desperately tried to hold back, to stave off the overwhelming pleasure that threatened to consume you.

But Jeonghan knew just how much you loved the way your cunt clenched around his cock when he moaned, and he used it to his advantage. As his moans grew louder and more whiny, he teased you mercilessly, knowing full well the effect it had on you.

"Ahh...fuck," he moaned, his voice thick with desire. "You like it when I moan, don't you? You love feeling my cock twitch inside you, making your pussy clench around me..."

You whimpered in response, your body trembling with need as you fought against the rising tide of pleasure. But Jeonghan wasn't finished yet; he continued to tease you between moans, his words driving you to the brink of madness.

"I bet you're desperate to cum, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "But you're not allowed yet, baby. Not until I say so."

You whimpered in response, your body writhing beneath him as you struggled to hold back your orgasm. The sensation of his cock filling you, combined with his teasing words, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, threatening to overwhelm your senses.

Desperate to maintain control, you contorted your body, burying your face in the pillow and clenching it tightly as you fought against the rising tide of pleasure. Your nails dug into the fabric, threatening to rip it apart as you sought some semblance of relief from the overwhelming sensations.

But Jeonghan wasn't finished yet; he could sense your struggle, and it only fueled his desire to push you further. With a wicked grin, he intensified his movements, driving into you with a force that left you gasping for air.

"Ohhh," you cried out, the sound of ecstasy and surrender as you throbbed around Jeonghan's cock. The sensation of his tip hitting your g'spot sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, your eyes rolling back in sheer bliss as your body surrendered to the overwhelming sensation.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream of pleasure as you creamed around his cock, your essence coating him in a slick sheen of cum. The knot in your belly finally unraveled, releasing the pent-up tension that had been building inside you, and you convulsed on the bed in waves of ecstasy.

Jeonghan watched you with dark, hungry eyes, his hips never faltering as he continued to drive into you with unrelenting force. "Did I allow you to cum, baby?" Jeonghan's voice was low and taunting as he questioned you, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

Before you could respond, he took matters into his own hands, punishing you for your disobedience by circling your clit with lightning speed. The sudden intensity of his touch sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you, and you hissed in a mixture of pleasure and pain as you tried unsuccessfully to squirm away from his relentless ministrations.

Your senses were overwhelmed, your body hypersensitive from the intensity of your recent orgasm. Every touch, every stroke of his fingers against your swollen clit felt like fire, sending waves of pleasure radiating through you despite your attempts to resist.

Your teary eyes met Jeonghan's gaze, a mix of pleading and desperation reflected in your gaze as you silently begged for release. He watched you with a smirk, reveling in the power he held over your pleasure.

"You can only cum if I come," he declared, his voice low and authoritative.

You squirmed desperately beneath him, your body on the edge of another orgasm as you struggled to hold back the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatened to consume you. Your breath came fast and ragged, each gasp filled with anticipation as you awaited Jeonghan's release.

"Mmm...ohh," Jeonghan moaned, his voice husky with desire as he approached his own climax. "Fuck, you feel so good..."

Your moans mingled with his, a symphony of pleasure filling the room as you both teetered on the brink of ecstasy. And then, with a primal roar, Jeonghan came undone, his hot seed filling you up as you cried out in pleasure.

The sensation of his release sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm as you came around his cock once again. Your moans echoed off the walls. 

Jeonghan withdrew from you, leaving you panting and spent as you lay on your side, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Your eyes fluttered shut, a blissful haze descending over you.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan's gaze lingered on your flushed form, a smirk playing on his lips as he admired the sight of his cum spilling out of your well-used cunt. Your swollen clit throbbed with sensitivity, a testament to the intense pleasure you had just experienced.

He watched as you clenched around nothing, your pussy still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. The sight filled him with a sense of pride and satisfaction, knowing that he had been the one to bring you to such heights of pleasure.

With a satisfied sigh, Jeonghan reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate. He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he whispered, "You were so good for me, baby. You always are."

#seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt smut #svt imagines #seventeen fic #svt #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagine #seventeen angst #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan reaction #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #svt fanfic #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x oc

[shuawonie]

with you.

pairing | yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

genre | pure fluff </3, babysitting au, established relationship au, non-idol au, comfort

word count | 5.6k

warnings | just jeonghan with kids :’), use of pet names (love, angel), kissing, mentions of pregnancy and having a child, cuteness everywhere, sneaky jeonghan, what should i say more- joshua as your brother and a dad ^^

summary: babysitting your brother’s daughter was always one of your favorite things to do. but you didn’t know that it might be even better if someone joins you, especially someone who you love the most.

a/n: here is a small drabble that has been rotting in my docs for so long already.. ㅠㅠ after watching TOO MANY (oops-) videos with jeonghan with kids i couldn’t stop myself… but hope you’ll enjoy it ! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡♡

“Gosh y/n, you’re literally an angel!”

Joshua, your brother, said enthusiastically as soon as he walked into your apartment.

Him, together with his wife were invited to a meeting with their old classmates, as it was already 10 years after their highschool graduation. However, the problem was that they couldn’t go there with their 3 years old daughter, Minji as they wouldn’t probably have that much time to give her the attention. Come on, after all they really wanted to meet their friends calmly, even though Minji wasn’t a big troublemaker.

So you decided to help your sibling, and for one day you volunteered to take care of the girl. You consulted everything with Miyoon, Joshua’s wife, so when your brother got to know that you’ll take care of Minji while they’ll be gone for a day, he was all over the moon as the problem of who they should leave their daughter with was giving him sleepless nights.

Your brother gently placed his 3 year old in your arms, kissing her cheek sweetly to which she let out a cute giggle. Miyoon was standing silently right next to Joshua. She was smiling lovely, while looking at her daughter and husband with such admiration shining in her eyes.

You chuckled, “Seriously! It's no problem for me. Spending time with this little sweetheart is pure pleasure, and taking care of her is hassle-free. Right, Minji?” the girl in your arms placed her head in the crook of your neck, while nodding gently.

Your brother cooed at Minji’s reaction and you laughed under your nose, while hugging the little girl closer to your body.

“I hope that she won’t cause any problems though.” Miyoon uttered, making you shift your eyes at her.

“If anything would happen, let us know immediately, and we’ll drive back to pick her up.” the girl added with Joshua nodding at her words, and you sent them a reassuring smile while affirming to them that you’ll call instantly if something happens.

“Minji mostly goes to sleep at 8 PM and if she’ll have any troubles with falling asleep, you can heat up some milk for her, she really likes it. But you can also read her a bedtime story or hum a song.” Joshua said in the doorway, and you placed the girl on the floor to run around your apartment with her favorite plushie in her hand.

She immediately ran up to your golden retriever, who was happily observing what’s happening the whole time.

You smiled at your brother with pity visible on your face, “Shua, please. It’s not my first time taking care of Minji.” you crossed your hands over your chest, “Seriously. You don’t have to worry about us.”

Miyoon chuckled as she watched how flustered Joshua got at your point. Then she gently patted his arm, “Babe, we need to get going. We still have around 2.5 hours to drive.” she muttered softly, and your brother nodded at her words while sending her his bright smile.

For the last time, Joshua and Miyoon thanked you, and (hesitantly) the two of them finally left your apartment, leaving you with Minji who was currently busy gently petting Seoli, your dog.

You watched her from the side for a bit, before you melted at her cutest behavior. Slowly, you approached them and Seoli immediately ran up to you, bringing Minji right after her. The girl gripped tightly around your leg, showing her gummy smile to you.

“Hi angel.” you crouched down, and poked Minji’s cheek to which the girl let out an adorable giggle. She wrapped her arms around your neck and hugged you tightly, making you smile widely.

“Please hold still, auntie! I’ll get the band-aid for you~” Minji melodized, and she ran quickly towards her pink backpack where she had all of her toys hidden, looking for the band-aid for you.

You two were in the middle of playing ‘doctor and patient’ and you sat on the couch, acting as if something happened on your cheek. Minji of course was the doctor, and she played as if she had to cure you.

Seoli, already tired after following everything you two did, was now laying on the fluffy carpet next to the sofa, silently observing both of you.

It was already 3 hours since Joshua and Miyoon left, and you were desperately trying to do anything with Minji until the time where you two would eat lunch, and then take a small nap.

So during this whole time, you already drew and coloured in Minji’s coloring books, played with her tiny animal figurines, played in a hairstylist, and had a small snack break.

But all of it was actually pretty much fun and you couldn’t complain. Minji was a really cute and happy child, which she probably got from her amazing father. However, she also got the softness and care that you could observe in the way of how she treated you as the ‘doctor’, from her sweet mother.

After a minute, Minji ran back to you with a pink colored band-aid that had smiley butterflies on it. She sat on the couch to get closer to you, and started sticking the band-aid to your cheek.

The girl was doing it with such patience and focus that it gave you an opportunity to look closer at her. And you immediately noticed how beautiful her eyes looked, as she had taken after Shua.

You were always jealous of your brother’s eyes as he was the one who got your mom’s eyes. Even though your eyes also looked similar to his, you also had a lot from your father.

The girl started to giggle as she was excited, and you couldn’t help but melt at her cutest behavior. And just as Minji was about to finish sticking the band-aid, the two of you twitched as you heard a voice in the room.

“Did I miraculously wake up in the future, and you’re playing with our little daughter?” your boyfriend’s still a little hoarse voice rang in your ears, immediately putting your heart in calm, bringing a warm smile to your lips. But you couldn’t stop blushing because of his statement.

“What? Hannie, no!” you chuckled at his words and added “This is literally my niece!” to which the boy pouted in disappointment because of the harsh reality (deep down, he really hoped that you would say yes).

“How are you, hm? Do you feel better?” you asked, smiling at him as the boy approached the two of you slowly, laying down on the couch while placing his head on your lap.

“Yup. I feel much better now, love.” Jeonghan replied smoothly, while getting comfortable on your lap.

Then he shifted his eyes on Minji, who was already observing him, curious about his sudden appearance. The boy smiled at her to which she smiled brightly, tilting her head to the side.

“I think you have a real patient here, Minji.” you chuckled under your nose, “Uncle Jeonghan had a biiiig~ headache this morning, so maybe you can take care of him now.” you started to gently play with Jeonghan’s dark hair.

It was really soft in the touch that you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with it, and starting to loosely braid it. Not as if Jeonghan minded you doing that.

The girl nodded happily while running again to her backpack, taking all of the needed supplies to play with Jeonghan.

“Should I be scared?” Jeonghan whispered to you with a playful smile on his lips, looking at the pink band-aid still stuck to your cheek.

“No, don’t worry.” you chuckled softly, glancing at Minji who was busy searching for her toys, “Doctor Hong is really gentle with her doings.” you added, and Jeonghan chuckled as you sent him a bright grin.

Not so long after, Minji joined you two again and Jeonghan was forced to (unfortunately) sit up from your lap as she started to play with him.

You observed all of this silently from the side, with a big smile on your face, and your heart growing with love. The way Jeonghan was playing with her, using his baby voice while speaking with her, and treating her gently as if she was the most fragile thing in the world was making it really hard for you not to fall in love with him even deeper — if that was even possible.

“Auntie!” Minji’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, to which you quickly moved your attention to her.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You have to give uncle Jeonghan a kiss.

You froze.

“W-what?” you stuttered, and the girl blinked at you with confusion.

“You have to give a kiss of love to uncle, so it will make him feel better! You know.. kiss of love! He said that his head still hurts..” Minji pouted, and looked at you with her shining, doe eyes.

Oh.. how could you refuse her?

So you looked at the main reason for your currently pink cheeks, and your eyes immediately locked with Jeonghan’s, dark one’s. His gaze was addicting for you. You could stare into it all day long.

But the way he was looking at you right now, with that smirk and playfulness dancing freely in his eyes, was making you feel really flustered.

“Come on, y/n. You have to give me a kiss~” Jeonghan urged you, holding himself from laughing out loud because of how much he loved to tease you this way.

You knew that he was feeling fine now, and that his head didn’t hurt anymore. It was normal for Jeonghan that sometimes when he came home late after an exhausting day, the boy got headaches as soon as he woke up in the morning. That’s how you always made him stay in bed and sleep more, most of the time with you by his side.

But now, he was just using the fact that you had a soft spot for Minji (and also for him) so you couldn’t refuse her requests. And without any other choice left for you, slowly, you leaned closer and placed a sweet kiss on Jeonghan’s forehead. But just when you were about to pull back, his hands softly cupped your cheeks and attached his lips to yours, connecting you in a real kiss.

Quickly realizing what just happened, you pulled away from the boy, making him confused at your sudden change. Minji was squealing from happiness while jumping on the couch and hugging you tightly. Gently, you hit Jeonghan’s arm while trying to act as if you’re mad at him. The boy let out a giggle that made you smile even wider.

“Now I feel much better.” Jeonghan uttered, to which you snorted and rolled your eyes at his behavior, resting your chin on top of snuggling to you Minji.

“Are you ready, Ji?”

Jeonghan asked with a big smile shining on his lips, feeling as excited as the little girl who was currently jumping beside him. He was crouching in front of her while trying to help her put on her jacket and a fluffy hat with bear ears on the top.

You were tying your shoes as your lips curved into a soft smile. Your boyfriend was chasing after Minji through your apartment as just a second ago the girl stole his scarf. The sight of how Jeonghan was happy with your niece was making you chuckle, while feeling warm deep in your heart.

As the snow continued to fall throughout the day, you all decided to go on a walk and play for some time in the snow. Minji immediately accepted that idea, saying that she really wants to go out with her favorite (right after her parents) people, and see the snow.

“You guys can already leave, I’ll join you in a second.” you stated, and Jeonghan nodded at your words with a soft smile spreading on his lips.

He quickly tapped Minji’s head, shouting, “Tag, you’re it!”

Then he ran out from the apartment, just to have Minji running just behind him, screaming his name.

You decided to pack a snack for Minji in your bag in case she gets hungry, and also take warmer clothes for the three of you. You had no idea for how long you’re going to be out, and as it was already the middle of January, so the evenings were really cold.

That’s why you took a small, pastel pink hoodie from Minji’s bag with spare clothes that her lovely parents left for her, and two Jeonghan’s sweatshirts (one for him, and also one for you of course). Some hand warmers and you were ready to go.

Being in a relationship with Jeonghan for almost 5 years now (and 15 years in friendship), has taught you many things. For example, you should always watch your back, if he’s not planning to pull any of his stupid pranks on you (which you actually adored). Always watch his hand movements carefully, he will always try to cheat. Never let him in the kitchen or you want to get it burned down.

And also his really low cold tolerance. He could get cold really easily, so you always had to be one step ahead by having a hand warmer hidden somewhere in the pocket of your coat for him. His reaction was always the best as he always got shy when you sneaked the hot pack into his hand, ostensibly to hold his hand.

As you finished zipping your bag, you were finally done with packing all of the necessary things. You took your keys from the drawer and left the apartment, locking the door behind you.

When you left the building, Minji was clinging to Jeonghan’s arm, who was crouching, busy doing something. From this proximity you couldn’t really tell what they were doing, but as soon as you got closer, you noticed a stray cat sitting by them.

Jeonghan was petting its head gently, cooing at the cat while Minji was observing everything behind Jeonghan’s arm. A smile spread on your lips as you approached them.

“Only a minute without me, and you already found my replacement. You are so toxic, guys.” you chuckled, and the two of them raised their heads to look at you.

Jeonghan quickly sent you an ‘are-you-serious-right-now’ look, before getting up and gently kissing your cheek. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“And only a minute without me, and you’re already saying nonsense, love.” he uttered as he sent you a lazy smirk, cupping your face with his hands.

“I would have never replaced you.” Jeonghan left a sweet kiss on your lips, to which you quickly turned away when he pulled away from you, chuckling at your sudden reaction.

You hoped he wouldn't notice that rose blush which suddenly appeared on your cheeks. But you blamed it on the cold weather, not the fact that you got embarrassed. However, the butterflies in your stomach were saying the opposite.

Minji observed you the whole time, wearing a gummy smile. The hat which was falling over her eyes was making her look adorable. She was struggling to see anything, but Jeonghan was quick to notice it. He untangled himself from you, and fixed her hat with a small pat on her head and a baby-voiced coo.

Jeonghan as usually had to forget to take his own hat. The snowflakes that were gently falling down the sky rested on top of his dark hair strands. His cheeks were already tinted in light pink from the cold breeze, making him look even more breathtaking.

Quickly, you took out a hat with long bunny ears that you also decided to pack, and put it on Jeonghan’s head. Gosh, he looked so cute in it.

In the meantime, the stray cat ran away somewhere, and you decided to finally start your small stroll to the park that was located in your neighborhood.

Minji was quick to hold Jeonghan’s and your hands, ready to walk with you two by her sides. You had to walk much slower than usual because of her small steps, but you didn’t complain. The already setting sun looked alluring, with the pink and violet rays spreading on the sky.

Suddenly, the girl unhooked her hands, and ran straight towards the open area with lots of snow on it. She jumped into it, giggling, while taking the snow into her hands and throwing it above her. You followed right after her, playing together with the snow.

What you didn’t expect to happen next was a snowball hitting your arm. When you looked to the side, you quickly noticed the culprit, laughing soundly with a playful grin on his face.

“Come on, Minji,” you grasped her hand, “We have to win this battle.” a smirk spread over your lips as the little girl giggled in excitement.

And that’s how your snowball battle started. You couldn’t believe it but while playing, you suddenly felt as if you were 15 again, having a battle with your friends after you finished your classes. When Jeonghan and you were only friends, and when you never imagined that in the future you’ll fall for each other.

It’s obvious that at the end Jeonghan of course ended up winning against you two (you still question if he didn’t cheat while . But you didn’t really care about that. Him still being with you after all those years, smiling like a kid, having his best time with your beloved niece was more than enough to make you feel happy.

Hot chocolate tastes the best after playing in the snow. And you can’t disagree with that.

The three of you got back home 30 minutes after you finished the battle in the snow. Your clothes were all wet and Minji was already whining about how her legs hurt, so on the way back home Jeonghan gave her a piggy ride.

After changing into some fresh and most importantly dry clothes, Jeonghan was quick to suggest that you all should drink hot chocolate to warm up. Minji, having her uncle as the most amazing person after giving her a piggy ride home, begged you to make them hot chocolate.

And that’s how you ended up in this situation — Minji sitting on Jeonghan’s lap, snuggled into his chest. She was already done drinking her hot chocolate, watching a cartoon on the TV.

The boy kept stroking her hair gently, putting her into a deep sleep. Jeonghan’s warmth, together with the tiredness and soft sound of the programme they were watching, worked like a lullaby for Minji’s exhausted body.

You sat beside them, not being able to focus on anything else than the love of your life acting like your niece is his own child.

“Should we put her to her bed?” Jeonghan whispered after a while as he looked at you, his hand still on Minji’s head, hugging her closely.

“Yeah, I think so.” you replied softly, “She already fell asleep, so it’s even better.” you smiled, and the two of you got up from the couch as quietly as you could to not wake the little girl up.

When Jeonghan went to the guest room with Minji, you sent a short text to Joshua, saying that Minji is already sleeping and everything’s alright. You left your phone on the coffee table and went after Jeonghan to the guest’s room, stopping in the door frame. You leaned against it, observing how your boyfriend was gently tugging Minji to sleep.

When he finally noticed you standing behind him, he sent you a questioning look with a smile spreading over his lips. You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you headed to your bedroom. But on the way there, a pair of arms quickly sneaked over your waist.

You let out a squeak when the boy suddenly lifted you up, spinning you around. “Hannie, put me down!” you whispered firmly while laughing, as you didn’t want to wake Minji up.

“But I don’t want toooo~” he whined, keeping his face in the nape of your neck, but eventually the boy placed you back on the ground, turning you around to face him.

“You know..” you started, placing your arms around his neck, “I didn’t know that you’re that good at taking care of kids.”

“Oh please,” he laughed, “What am I not good at in the first place.”

“Hmm, I don’t think there is something like that.” you looked deeply into his eyes, which shone brightly in happiness and tenderness.

Jeonghan leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your nose before suddenly lifting you up in a bridal style, taking you to your bedroom (despite your protests).

He gently placed you on the bed as if you were the most fragile thing before showering your entire face and neck with butterfly kisses. Your giggles filled the room, enjoying your sweet time together.

It was already past midnight when Jeonghan came out of the bathroom. He had his hair still slightly damp after showering. You were laying in your bed, scrolling through social media. Joshua posted some photos from the gathering, and seeing your brother together with his wife, enjoying their time was making you feel really happy.

“What are you looking at?” Jeonghan asked suspiciously, observing how widely you smiled.

He dried his hair with a towel while standing at the end of the bed. But when you didn’t reply to him, the boy immediately pouted, annoyed that you’re paying more attention to something in your phone than him.

“Hello?” he said louder, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh yes, sorry. Joshie posted photos from the gathering, and they look so happy together.” you explained in awe, showing him the pictures in your phone. Jeonghan only hummed in response, not really interested, while putting the towel aside.

You could immediately notice a shift in his behavior, so you put your phone on the bedside table. Jeonghan got under the bedsheets next to you, quickly pulling your body closer to him.

You looked at him worriedly, “Hannie, what’s wrong?” you asked, but the boy just snuggled closer to you. Gosh, he’s so clingy.

“Nothing, let’s just cuddle.” he muttered tiredly, quickly earning a chuckle which in a split of a second caused the corner of his lips to raise.

While being tangled in his protective arms, you talked about the day, how much you enjoyed it and how much you’d want to experience something like this once again. Jeonghan (being already half asleep) listened to your subdued voice, humming in agreement.

What you didn’t expect was to suddenly hear a faint knock on your door. Quickly, you straightened up on the bed, unfortunately hitting Jeonghan at the same time. You whispered a soft sorry as the woken up boy looked at you, pouting while massaging his jawline.

You got out of the bed, and approached the door. On the other side you found a teary-eyed Minji, gripping her plushie tightly in her hand. The bare sight made your heart swell immediately.

“Minji, baby, what happened?” you asked her as you crouched in front of her, bringing her close to you, “Did you have a nightmare?” you added, while hugging her to your body.

You could only hear Minji’s sniffs, “Y-yes.” she whispered, snuggling into the crook of your neck.

Trying to calm her down, you picked her up and you got back to the bed. Jeonghan was already sitting, observing you silently with worry written all over his face.

You sat on the edge of the bed, Minji sat on your laps while hugging you tightly. Her sniffles were already gone, but you kept stroking her back and swaying her shaking body. Jeonghan took some tissues from the bedside table, and shuffled closer to you on the bed, gently wiping Minji’s tears away.

When the girl was finally calmed down, you looked at her shiny and slightly red eyes, and smiled.

“Do you want to sleep with us tonight?” you asked.

Oh. If only you knew how Jeonghan’s heart skipped a beat when he heard you spoke those words. Through out the day, he actually started to feel more as if Minji was his own daughter, and seeing you, so gentle and careful with the little girl only confirmed his thoughts about you being his only one.

Minji nodded, and you quickly took her off your knees, placing her in the middle of the bed. As your bed was king size, there was no problem for you three to sleep together.

Jeonghan helped Minji lay down, bringing her plushie closer to her. You also got back under the sheets, laying down next to your niece.

As previously, your boyfriend started to stroke her head, and also between her eyes as he once read somewhere that gently stroking that place makes babies fall asleep faster. The whole time you were looking at Jeonghan, as he was focused on putting Minji to sleep.

Surprisingly, that advice which Jeonghan used turned out to be true, because soon later Minji was back in her sweet slumber, and you two could finally go to sleep.

You were still looking at him, and when your eyes met, you felt those butterflies in your stomach waking up again. You found Jeonghan handsome and very attractive almost every time. When he had his hair done perfectly, with his black shirt on and that stupid smirk. When he was helping you cook something, politely obeying your orders. And when he was completely focused during building his lego sets.

But this sight. Oh dear lord, please have some mercy.

Him in front of you, in the most natural circumstances ever, with his dark hair soft but slightly messy, his shirt falling down a bit too low while exposing one of his collarbones, laying in the same bed with you and being the same (or even more) exhausted than you. It felt different.

He was the most beautiful, the most attractive and the most handsome person you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“Angel, I know I’m handsome, but you don’t have to stare at me like that.” he commented with a smirk spreading on his lips.

You quickly got back out from that daze, “Oh shut up.” you whispered, while turning around in the bed, making him face your back.

“Good night, love.”

“Good night, Hannie.”

Just when you thought that nothing could look better than Jeonghan last night, you got your thinking changed once again.

Waking up in the morning with the sun’s light rays resting on the floor and walls of your bedroom, while laying next to your beloved boyfriend, and your niece cuddled up closely to him, officially became your new favorite sight ever.

They looked so fragile, so delicate and so adorable, while sleeping peacefully, that you couldn’t help but take some photos of them.

As soon as you got out of bed (and finished your mini photo session), you went through the new notifications. It was only 8 am, but you still got some throughout the night.

At around 7:30 am, Joshua sent you a text that they will eat breakfast now, and then try to leave around 9:00 am. So you still had 4 hours until they arrived.

After dressing yourself up as quietly as you could, you walked out of the room, closing the door behind you. You decided not to wake them up, but surprise them with breakfast.

You spent some time debating over what you should make, and if it should be savory or sweet, but you eventually chose to make sweet breakfast. Quickly, you began to make the batter for the waffles, also preparing coffee for Jeonghan and you while Seoli accompanied you. You of course didn’t forget to also give her food.

After some time, you were already making the waffles when a pair of arms suddenly sneaked around your waist, with the feeling of someone’s chin on your shoulder.

“You left the bed too early today,” Jeonghan’s still a little bit hoarse voice sounded right by your ear, as you were busy putting the done waffles on the plates, “You know I like to wake up and see your face as the first thing in the morning.”

“I know, I know, Hannie,” you laughed, pouring the batter into the waffle mold, “But I wanted to make a surprise for you two. Speaking of, where is Minji?” you asked, turning around to face Jeonghan.

Oh shit. He looked breath-taking.

“I helped with her morning toilet, and then we went to the living room. She is busy with her coloring books, but still kind of sleepy.” Jeonghan explained, and you nodded at his words.

The boy grabbed his cup of coffee, and took a sip before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek while saying thank you. You smiled back at him, finishing the waffles.

Soon, you took all of the waffles that you prepared, and placed them on the table. In the meanwhile, Jeonghan took out all of the toppings for the waffles, and went back to get Minji.

When you finally sat down, your boyfriend came into the kitchen with Minji holding his hand, and slowly walking towards you right by his side. As soon as she noticed the waffles on the table, she sprinted towards the chair and quickly got on top of it, already taking one of the waffles. Jeonghan joined right after her, and the three of you began to eat your breakfast.

The rest of the morning went really fast. Jeonghan dressed in something else than his pyjamas while you helped Minji to pick her outfit. Then you finally did your makeup, and the three of you just spent more time together.

You didn’t understand how it’s possible, that even with your tendency to have a low social battery, you didn’t feel tired or bored by your boyfriend and niece. It felt so natural now to have them around, that you just got used to it.

While Minji was playing with your dog, and Jeonghan was teaching her how to make Seoli do the tricks, you were busy thinking about how you actually can see your future like this.

Now, after yesterday, you were sure that you could picture your future with Jeonghan, and even see yourself as a mother. You were sure that the boy would be the best father, spoiling his kid while also pulling his stupid pranks on you with them.

But you were sure that with him it was possible.

A few hours later, a doorbell’s sound rang in your flat. Seoli immediately ran to bark at the person behind the door, but you were sure it was Shua with Miyoon. And you weren’t wrong. As soon as you opened the door you could see the young parents standing in front of you, greeting you happily as you kept Seoli from jumping on them.

Seconds later, Jeonghan came from behind the corner with Minji in his arms. She had her head pressed to his cheek, observing patiently who came over. And just when she saw her mommy and daddy, she grinned happily and wiggled in Jeonghan’s arms. The boy put her down, and she ran straightfully to her parents. They hugged their daughter closely, and Jeonghan joined your side, placing his arm over your waist.

“We hope she didn’t cause you any problems.” Miyoon uttered, patting the little girl’s head.

“No, not at all!” you quickly protested, “Minji is such an angel, we spent an amazing time together.” you leaned your head on Jeonghan’s shoulder.

“She’s the cutest. I’m so jealous of your daughter.” Jeonghan commented, earning a laugh from everyone.

You handed Joshua all Minji’s things that they brought, and it was finally time to say goodbye.

“Nooo! I don’t wanna say goodbye!” Minji whined, while cuddling to your leg.

“Ji, baby, you’ve been with your aunt and uncle for a whole day. Now we have to go back to our house.” Joshua explained, “We have to let auntie and uncle get some rest.”

“But I love them so much..”

You couldn’t control the coo that left your lips as soon as the girl said how much she loved you and Jeonghan. Your boyfriend only smiled briefly, observing everything.

“You’ll see them soon again.” Miyoon took Minji’s hand, bringing her closer to her to put the hat on her head.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” you replied, while intertwining your pinky finger with hers, “You’ll probably see us earlier than you might think.”

“I can’t wait already!” she shouted enthusiastically, and for the last time Minji hugged you and Jeonghan tightly, and patted Seoli. Then, the young parents left your flat, leaving you two alone, again.

Suddenly, Jeonghan let out a groan which startled you by the sudden action.

He headed towards the living room, “I want to have a kid.” he whined, and you chuckled under your breath, following Jeonghan’s steps.

“You know, we still can have one in the future.” you answered, and the boy immediately turned around, looking at you with his eyes widened and his mouth parted a little bit. “Only if you want one.”

Jeonghan was quick to run up to you, and spin you around, while holding you tightly. Your giggles filled the room once again, being the prettiest melody to your boyfriend’s ears.

“Of course I do, my love.”

He was sure. Jeonghan was sure that he couldn’t wait no more, and that maybe it was the right time to take out that velvet box which he hid deeply in the drawer by the bed, and finally put it into use.

Because he knew one thing. That if he wanted to spend his entire life together with someone, then it had to be with you.

© shuawonie | 2024, all rights reserved.

reuploads and likes are highly appriciated ♡

#this is so soft :( #i love jeonghan <3 #sorry for being so inactive </3 #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #svt fluff #jeonghan #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #fluff #yoon jeonghan imagines

[joonsytip]

The Selfish Dilemma || Jeonghan - Part 1

Pairings: Jeonghan x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It was love at first sight ever since you laid eyes on Jeonghan. To him, you are the annoying co-worker who keeps asking him out. No one is new to your courting agenda which only pisses off Jeonghan but what happens when you stop, all at once....

Word Count: 6k

Warnings (specific to this part): this part is SFW, pinning, unrequited love, lots of office jargons, profanity, tears, mention of alcohol consumption, aloof Jeonghan, reader is a love sick puppy, second lead Seokmin, wholesome co-workers Wonwoo, Soonyoung, Jihoon and Joshua, wholesome bestfriend Myeongho (lmk if I missed any)

Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao <3

A/N: To be added to the taglist for the next part please send an ask or comment under this or the announcement post.

Please heart, comment and reblog, it would really help to keep me going <3

[Svt Main Masterlist] [Svt Flick - Fic Masterlist]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue

The cubicles are neat, the marble floors are shining brighter than crystals even after getting padded every now then. The fruity smell of the room refresher is strong enough to go on for days but the continuous clicking of keyboards sound loud enough to give a year worth migraines.

You duly wait by the office entrance, your daily routine, holding a takeaway paper cup which contains Iced Cinnamon Cappuccino.

A familiar car passes by towards the parking and you know that the person you're waiting for is gonna grace you with his presence soon.

Just in cue, that person walks by ignoring you and passes through the security check. You line up behind him, instantly feeling better just by seeing his face.

"How do you always manage to look so gorgeous?", you ask him giddily knowing very well that you won't be getting a response from him.

The security at the check smiles when you direct your requesting gaze at her. She let's you pass by and you're doing large strides in your heels.

"Here..", you are handing him the beverage cup, "Have a great day, Hannie!", you wish him and he doesn't even bat an eyelash as he saunters over to avail the elevator.

You stand there watching him as your lips curl up because your gazes meet for the first time for the day before the elevator door closes.

When you had switched to the current company you're working for two years ago as a Senior Developer you had never thought in your wildest dreams that you'd be turning into a lovesick puppy for the technical analyst of the team you had gotten assigned to.

Yoon Jeonghan got you enchanted the moment you had your eyes on him. You could vividly remember, it was your first day after getting assigned to a project and your manager was introducing you to your teammates.

Everyone seemed nice and greeted you with enthusiasm except one. Yoon Jeonghan was stoic throughout and for you, that heart within your chest thumped vigorously, eyes glued to him while the surroundings seemed to freeze.

Love at first sight was just a funny concept until Jeonghan made you experience it.

You would admit it unabashed that working in corporate world had given you chance to meet a lot of person but no one could ever do justice to suits more then Jeonghan.

Always been a spontaneous person and upon getting a confirmation that he's single your journey of courting him kickstarted.

It's been two years since then.

Everytime you ask him out, Jeonghan rejects you even without sparing a moment of thought.

You are currently working on debugging a piece of code which every other member of your team failed to solve and it ultimately fell into your court.

"I'm gonna run by the canteen, do you need anything?"

You lift your head to see Seokmin hovering over the partition of your desk.

"One strong black coffee, thanks Min.", you quickly say before focusing on the screen again.

You don't see the empathetic smile Seokmin throws at you.

It's almost afternoon and your prying eyes are stuck on the door of the cabin, adjacent to your desk.

Soon Jeonghan comes out of his cabin which prompts you to follow him to have lunch to together.

It's same everyday, Jeonghan not intending to let you sit with him but you do it anyways.

"Did the bug get resolved?", he asks, eyes set on the plate, "I think we have been stuck on this on for long, need to get it resolved asap."

You chew on the salad filling in your mouth to quickly gulp it and answer him, "I got the chance to look at it today. Hopefully, I wouldn't be spending much time on it."

Jeonghan nods making a brief eye contact with you.

So you proceed with the most important part of your daily ritual.

"Would you like to go on a date with me tonight?", you ask.

"No", comes his recorded response.

You smile mischievously, "Why? I thought I should be rewarded for fixing the code?"

Jeonghan scoffs, "You're knocking on the wrong door. Ask your manager to reward you. If he doesn't, go to the HR department and discuss the matter."

"But they're not you, Hannie.", you slip out the nickname on purpose knowing it irks him, "You're the one I want."

Jeonghan blatantly ignores you and when he's done eating, he cleans the corner of his lips with the tissues and then walks out of the canteen grabbing a water bottle.

Even his back profile should have a seperate fandom of its own, you ponder dreamily.

"Snap out of it, you're drooling."

You crane your neck to see that the seat beside you already occupied by Seokmin.

"Another rejection?" he asks and you nod.

The two of you continue to eat silently before Seokmin brings up the topic again, "Join our team Y/N, Wonwoo is moving out."

You give him a pointed look wishing it was as easy as it sounded. When you started working in the team, you worked under Jeonghan and within this span, everyone moved out or transferred except you. To work closer to Jeonghan and out of sentimentality, you stayed.

"It'll be a lot less hectic", Seokmin assures and points at your face, "Your concealor is doing a very bad job at hiding those dark circles."

You gasp and hit his arm, "Atleast Pandas got a competition even though they're cute and I'm just..."

"Beautiful." Seokmin says in a beat, "You are beautiful Y/N and Jeonghan is blind for not appreciating a woman like you."

He says with so much sincerity that you have to cower your gaze away.

"How long until you stop pursuing him?", he asks.

So that I can start courting you, he doesn't say.

"Until he accepts or...", you sing along, "the day I run out of my patience and the rejection finally settles in my bones."

Red might be your favourite colour but currently you're seeing green.

"Who's she, Wonwoo?", you hiss, lamenting on how you have to witness such a sight.

Apparently a woman whom you've never seen before is standing too close to Jeonghan, much to your disliking and the man in the picture seems unbothered with her hogging over and he's smiling.

He's smiling at whatever nonsense she's uttering!

"She's Seonji, my replacement.", Wonwoo speaks calmly, "Since it's my last week, I'll be giving her KTs before my departure."

"You don't care about me or Seokmin, do you?", you say sadly, "How would I function at all without your inputs?"

Wonwoo is another efficient co-worker who works with Seokmin and is a very good friend of yours.

"Not everyone will be a fool to stall their growth because of sentiments Y/N.", he retorts, meaning no malice.

Your throat closes up for a moment but you somehow manage to speak, "We're not having this conversation now, Woo."

"I know this won't go anywhere but there's a limit to everything. How long until you see it's not Jeonghan but someone else who deserves you.", Wonwoo thinks it's time he rats out Seokmin's name because he himself would never.

"What do you mean by someone else?", you counter back confused.

"It's been two years Y/N, people can go through whole lot of loving in this span, don't you think he's behaviour towards you should have been different if he cared even a bit?", Wonwoo is ruthless because he knows he needs to be the one to tell you because no one else would, "Has he ever smiled at you like that?"

"Woo please stop...", your eyes are teary, voice cracking, "You think I don't know that?"

Then you are walking away, wiping your tears. When there's something on your mind you always go to the rooftop to clear your mind out, of course not alone, you always find a lot of others, some shedding tears, some smoking cigarettes or some staring at the abyss.

You don't realise how much time has passed because you don't have your phone with you. Just as you are mentally preparing yourself to indulge into work you hear the call of your name from a very familiar voice.

"Do you think this company is paying you for slacking off?", Jeonghan says nonchalantly as he stands in front of you, "I can't even reach you on your phone."

Your lips curl up instantly, tiredness disappearing from your eyes, "Did you miss me Hannie?"

Jeonghan turns back & walks towards the door. You follow.

"When you're done fixing the bug, bring it to me for review.", he continues, "The clients have scheduled a meeting with us at 7pm. Be there."

"Aye aye captain!", you say from behind, "Can I ask you a question?"

You don't wait for Jeonghan to respond and ask right away, "Do you hate me?"

"Yes.", comes another of his recorded response.

You wonder how many more yes you can take for an answer.

The meeting ends at 10 and you're quickly collecting your belongings and almost parading so that you could avail the last bus since your car is given up for servicing.

You are sure that availing the bus is far fetched so you're taking out your phone to book a cab when you hear honking.

The familiar car stops by the road where you're standing and Jeonghan rolls down the window.

"Get in, I'll drop you.", he's looking at the way ahead and you are instantly getting in the passenger's seat.

"Wanna go to a restaurant for dinner?", you ask robotically, your tone dry. Jeonghan notices and sweeps a glance at you.

You look exhausted and he hopes it's only because of work.

"No", he says, "Put your address on the system's GPS.", as if it's not already instilled in the system.

You do as asked and Jeonghan sees you putting a different address.

"Did you change places?", he asks.

"A friend's address.", you don't explain further and it doesn't resonate well with him.

You thank him when he drops you at the doorsteps and watch him drive away until the car disappears from your sight.

The product deployment is scheduled for next month meaning work's gonna get more hectic than it already is.

You are knocking on the door and upon hearing a 'come in' you enter the cabin.

Jeonghan is seated on the revolving chair, the coat is hung on the headrest meaning that his only white shirt clad body is making you salivate. His head is laid back and you want nothing more than to stroke those luscious locks with your fingers. But for now, you push away your thoughts.

"I have mailed you a scheduler for the new product release.", you inform, "I think it's best if you arrange a meeting for all the teams involved and I'll give them a walkthrough on deployment and checkout procedures."

Jeonghan immediately straightens and checks the calender before scheduling a meeting for the next day.

"Tomorrow, 5 PM.", he stretches his arms out, "Anything else?"

The sight of viens protruding through his arms almost has you choked and you think it's best for your eyes to be up, "Y-Yeah? Oh well, I'll run by the Batch Ops department, do you have anything you want me to relay to them?"

Jeonghan searches for some files and takes out one from the stack and gives it to you, "Give it to Jihoon and tell him to send me the report by EOD."

You nod and ask, "There's this movie I have been meaning to watch, do you wanna go with me?"

"No.", he responds right away and you're already turning to exit the room when Seonji enters.

"Hannie!", she's intentionally loud and emphasizing and you are almost biting your tongue when you hear the nickname you've given him, to be called by her.

Not wanting to breathe in the same room as her, you are just taking a step ahead but you freeze on hearing her next words.

"The restaurant you took me to on Tuesday after work, I recommended it to my friends and they also loved it. Let's visit again sometime!"

You head whips to look at Jeonghan, to find him already staring at you.

It hurts your pride so you walk out of the room.

You're currently in the Batch Ops department, waiting for Jihoon. The said man is always busy, running on his heels and termed as the workaholic assistant supervisor of the department.

"Hey Y/N, did Jeonghan send the file?", you nod handing him the file and remind him to send the report.

"So how's your courting agenda going on?", he always asks and is even amused by the fact that how persistent you are to get Jeonghan when he doesn't show an ounce of interest in you.

You are generally joking with him on this but today you don't throw a banter and Jihoon is quick to understand that you're having a bad day so he doesn't pry further.

And on the way back you meet Seokmin who asks you to accompany him to the designated tent bar you both often go to. You agree instantly.

That night the owners of that tent bar knew how much you hate a woman named Seonji. They already know about your love for Jeonghan, since your alcohol tolerance is terrific, you cry river worth tears for that man everytime you're wasted and they feel pity for Seokmin who has to always clean up after you.

The product release approaches and everyone is pulling late nights or all nighters. Those who working in higher posts have to almost use office as a makeshift home mainly because they are dealing directly with the foreign clients and the time zones differ.

Though you are tired tattered, you make sure a cup of coffee of his preference always awaits him when Jeonghan enters his cabin. You also arrange the files, putting sticky notes in each section so he doesn't have to waste time searching for something. You make sure the cabin smells good and the place is neat. The towels are kept warm in the bathroom attached to the cabin and his favourite fragrance is filling the air inside cabin, so even if he's spending time at office, your efforts makes him think it's home.

When the rest ask how you do this, why do you do this, your answer is simple.

Isn't this what love is, to keep giving and not expecting anything in return.

"I think it's time you move on, Y/N.", your best friend Myeongho says after he shows up at your apartment one day.

Before you could retaliate his arms are up in his defence as he continues, "You know I'm never the type to judge or disregard anything casually. But this has been going on for long and it might hurt you but it's stagnant. You both made no progress. Two years, definitely a very long time and you can appear all happy and unfazed but I know every rejection must be hurting as hell."

You don't need words, the tears those stream down your facr speak volumes. Myeongho's presence is itself soothing and maybe that's why you are not loosing yourself in pits of sorrow for the moment.

What are supposed to do, you're so in love with Jeonghan, you're so used to him, so dedicated to him.

Myeongho pats your back while he's talking to his wife on his phone. You ponder over how Myeongho met her a year ago and now they are happily married with a baby on the way.

No one's story is comparable to other, each having it's own circumstances and pace but as your best friend said yours is totally different.

Unrequited and stagnant.

The product release is a success and now the work load is a lot lesser.

And as expected you're in Jeonghan's cabin.

"Are you free today?", you ask, "Wanna go to dinner? Not as a date, some people from our & Batch Ops team would be present as well."

Jeonghan is unabashed as usual, "I'm busy today."

He isn't explaining himself, it's his way of defining things. He's implying that on other days he's rejecting your advances without a reason and today he's doing it with a reason.

This time your face falls.

"Do you hate me?", you ask.

"Yes, you're annoying."

"Would you miss me if I leave?"

"No, a good riddance."

This time your heart hurts.

You are currently in a restaurant with Seokmin, Jihoon, Chaein and Joshua both working in your team, Soonyoung of Support Team and you've managed to pull Wonwoo in this eat out.

Wonwoo is currently making a disgusted face at Seokmin, who's doing some questionable mimicking of Jihoon, the man being mimicked being totally vested in eating whatever is there on his plate.

"Isn't that Jeonghan?"

Five pair of eyes follows Soonyoung's gaze and lands on Jeonghan.

"Wait that's Yoora with--"

Seokmin is late in slapping his hand over Soonyoung mouth because you have heard the name and it rings in your ear.

Kwon Yoora, Jeonghan's ex-girlfriend. The woman accompanying him tonight.

You have heard a lot about her from your colleagues because she used to work in the company you're working in. Well you're her replacement in terms of the position when you joined in. She worked with and under Jeonghan before you did.

This is the first time you're seeing her.

"I heard they had mutual breakup, seems they're still good friends.", Joshua comments.

Your eyes are glued to the table space where Jeonghan's hand is atop Yoora's. And he's smiling as he says something to her.

He never smiles at you like that.

"You guys continue eating.", Seokmin is already up grabbing his coat, "I'll get our food packed."

When Seokmin leaves, the rest four look at you worried and you feel pity for yourself. How could you not guess, Jeonghan had never lead you on, always being indifferent, constantly rejecting all your approaches for the last two year.

He didn't like you at all, he has been saying it all along but you were to stubborn to admit and accept. But now you do.

For you, it has been always him.

For him, it would be anyone but you.

You are grabbing your belongings, "Tell Seokmin, I'll be waiting by his car."

Then you sprint out. It's only when Wonwoo calls out your name, Jeonghan notices you.

He sees you running towards the exit, only if he didn't know better, he watches as you wipe your tears while do so.

Tonight it's not only you who's suffering from heartbreak, Seokmin's heart breaks yet again seeing those tear stained cheeks, hearing those wrenching sobs. He puts you to bed and sets the food on your table so that in the middle of night when you wake up hungry, you don't have to look around for food. He runs the bath for you, sets the towels and knowing that you'd be having a terrible headache later, he keeps the glass filled with water and the medicines on the nightstand. He does more and all while wiping his own tears.

Because like you, he too knows nothing breaks like a heart.

Next day Jeonghan doesn't see you at the office entrance. You don't greet him when he walks by your desk to his cabin. It's almost afternoon and you haven't walked through the cabin door even once. At lunch you don't sit with him, you're happily chatting away with Chaein while eating.

Jeonghan thinks something is wrong with him. Everytime he hears faint sound of footsteps his eyes perks at the cabin door. He doesn't like the coffee Seonji makes him. He doesn't like it when some random guy sits in front of him at lunch and while his eyes stray at you almost every second, you don't spare him a glance.

It's around 5 in the evening when you knock on his door.

Jeonghan can't describe the sensation his feeling right now, as if he has waiting for this moment lifelong.

You place a file on his table and say, "The Scheduler team wants to know about all the applications which are planned to retire from our system before the next monthly cycle. I have made a list for same, please have a look once and let me know in case of any concerns."

"Okay.", he says and you give him a nod.

"Don't you have anything to say?", he asks and you look at him confused, "No, I think this is the priority task at the moment, I'll let you know if anything else comes up, Jeonghan."

His own name feels foreign to his ears. By the time he's about to say something again, you are already out of his cabin.

This goes on for the whole week and Jeonghan feels he can't function anymore. He makes unnecessary trips within the office premise everytime walking by your desk just in hopes of getting called by you. You never do.

He waits for you at lunch but you're always gone. He never sees you smiling at him again. You never ask him out now. The coffee doesn't help to keep his stress away, the office doesn't feel homier anymore.

Isn't this all he wanted, Jeonghan asks himself. Aren't you the annoying co-worker who was always getting on his nerves?

And he's scared to listen to the answer his heart has to echo.

It's Monday, the first working day of a very new week and Jeonghan still looks at the entrance expectantly just to see you this time. He double takes to make sure he's not hallucinating and a smile tugs on his lips.

His face regains the seriousness as he approaches you and much to his dismay you don't notice him. He clears his throat to have your attention.

"Morning, Jeonghan.", you greet him curtly.

"Morning", he asks, eyes glancing over your hands to see if they have any takeaway coffee cup in them but they are empty, "Aren't you going in?"

"I'm waiting for someone.", comes your dry response.

Ain't that someone me?

"Okay....", he has no reason to linger anymore.

You are exhausted, sleep deprived blame the late night marathons of your favourite shows you've been pulling.

Reason, to keep your mind occupied with something which is not Jeonghan but the ache in your heart never dulls. Even though you have choosen peace with the fact that he'll never be yours, it's so new and difficult for you act indifferent towards him when you have been in love with him for two whole years.

When you're phones notifies you of a text, it has you rubbing your eyes just to make you're seeing it correct. You have got a text from Jeonghan reading-

Please make me coffee, it's a request.

When the Yoon Jeonghan who never texts you, never bothers to type back a response to your greetings or queries other anything related to work sends you a text, you're shocked.

Jeonghan feels like he can finally get the productive cells of body to work when he sees you entering holding a cup of coffee.

"You don't look good.", you say placing the cup on his table, "Are you okay?"

When he doesn't respond, you continue, "If you're not feeling well, please take the day off, I'll notify you of any urgent matters from our team prospective."

Jeonghan thinks it's the only chance he'd get to clear the misunderstandings so he speaks, "Me and Yoora are still good friends, that night at the restaurant she treated me because of a promotion she got at her company."

"Great to know. Good wishes on my behalf.", you are poised when you say, "From next time please refrain from sharing anything other from work related matters. I have no interest in your personal life and I think we are not close at all to be sharing updates on same."

Either he's mishearing or you're possessed, he's sure it's either. This ain't the you he wants. This ain't the you he needs.

Your tone emits grief when you speak further, "I deeply regret for the inconvenience I've caused you for the past years. I'm really sorry. But rest assured I won't be causing any more trouble, I'll out soon."

"What do you mean by that?", he's off his seat and in front of you instantly, "Did something happen?"

"Indeed.", You nod while smiling, "I accepted that you won't go out with me. I also accepted that you hate me. So there's no more pestering you from my side."

Jeonghan never thought his words would come back to him biting in his ass which he's not capable of taking.

"You can't do this...", he's not even sure of the words he's uttering, "Are you giving up on me?"

"Yes, I'm giving you what you wanted by giving up on you."

Jeonghan realises how much that he has gotten used to you. You're like the good parasite that clogs his mind whenever you're around and even if you're not. His mornings used to start with your messages, you used to magnetize yourself on him during the office hours and the last notification he got before sleeping was also from you.

So now he doesn't like the lack of attention from you at all and he'd do anything to have it back. He'd do anything to have you back.

He tries to be in your shoes for the next days. He waits for you at the entrance holding four cups of takeaway coffee cups because he doesn't you what like. Everyone who passes throws him a questioning gaze. Everyone except you. You walk pass by him, unfazed and unbothered.

"Y/N wait!", when you don't stop, he is following you, "I bought these for you and also if you could tell me what you like so that I can buy that."

You give him an incredulous look, "What are trying to do?"

"Just trying to get you morning coffee..."

You scoff and walk away.

When you go for lunch, Jeonghan pops up out of nowhere and not only he's tailing you, he's even occupying the seat beside you. He's suddenly texting you good mornings and good nights and throughout the day something or other but there's no progress.

Roles reversed, you don't even bat an eyelash at him now.

It makes him realise how ass of a person he has been to you and how angel of a human you were to tolerate all this and still love him with your all.

"What's wrong with Jeonghan nowadays?", Joshua asks genuinely curious. You all are gathered for a coffee break, as he stands opposite to where Jeonghan is stood from accross the room, he constantly notices him throwing glances, "He keeps looking at you Y/N."

"Jeonghan is that thick brain who realises what he had and lost when it's too late.", Jihoon snorts as he takes a sip casually, "What the hell, who put sugar in my coffee?"

Joshua is suddenly walking away and you laugh which makes Jihoon aware of the culprit.

Next he's chasing Joshua.

You are still smiling, gaze lingering on those two when you notice Jeonghan approaching you from the periphery of your vision. Not wanting to waste any energy on him you think of leaving the hall when someone bumps into you.

It's Seonji.

"Heard you stopped chasing Jeonghan?", she taunts, "Good that your brain's finally working."

"I want to you know if this concerns you anyway and why?", you ask and quickly turn to check if Jeonghan is in hearing vicinity. He is.

"I thought it's obvious? That we're close and might be together soon.", she says confidently, "You've noticed how behaves towards you is completely opposite of how his behaviour is towards me."

"Congratulations", you pat on her arm and incline closer to her as you whisper in her ear , "Let's see if Jeonghan is aware of this as well?"

Seonji's freezes for a moment when she realises that Jeonghan has been present there all along and have listened to the conversation that just happened.

"Congratulations to you too Jeonghan.", you wish him, "I can see, a match made of likes."

"There's nothing going on between us Y/N", he pleads as his hands itches to grab you so that you don't slip away before he finishes but out of professionalism and respect he doesn't, "She's just a junior from my university."

'You don't have to explain, I'm not interested.", you tell him before walking out.

Jeonghan is furious and Seonji thinks his glare is enough to make her evaporate without any trace.

"Jo Seonji", his voice is dangerously low and threatening, "I was being nice to you just because we're acquaintances from before but I realised how wrong it was."

"Han--"

"It's Jeonghan for you. If I hear you uttering such nonsense one more time, I'll report you to the committee for harassing me.", he's practically glowering, "And I want the database for all the transactions that occurred between us and our oldest clients with the analysis document by EOD."

"But that's too much of data Jeonghan, how would I be able to--"

"That's for you to sort out.", he says, "If I don't get the design model, I'll report it to your manager and she'll handle it from there."

Seonji is all sweaty and faltering when she hears, "I see you anywhere near Y/N without any official need, I'll make sure you're stepping down your position."

To those who thought Jeonghan has changed, they just witnessed the infamous scary Yoon Jeonghan again today.

They also realised that Jeonghan is still the same authoritative, strict and stoic faced coordinator for all.

He has changed, just for you.

"When are you gonna tell her?", Soonyoung asks wrapping his arm around Seokmin's shoulder as they gather on the rooftop during the lunch break.

Seokmin is torn.

"She's coping up with the pent ups because of Jeonghan and I don't wanna add to her stress.", he laments.

"I hate to admit that you're correct but I'm worried because I think if you don't shot your shoot now then it'll be gone.", Soonyoung's concern is evident in his tone.

"I can't just tell Y/N that I love her all of a sudden when she's in love with someone else for a long time.", it pains him to speak it out, "Because I know how painful unrequited love can be..."

Soonyoung sighs, as he frames his next question carefully, "When will be the right time, Seokmin?

There's never a right time, he thinks.

Jeonghan doesn't avail the elevator, he's climbing down the stairs hurriedly.

When he decided to go the rooftop to cool off after the Seonji episode he again unintendedly overhears the conversation between Soonyoung and Seokmin, the two men obviously staying oblivious about his presence.

His anger from before morphs into a mix of shock and scare. Shock because it didn't occur to him ever that Seokmin could be in love with you. Scared because, well he is yet to figure out the reason.

Walking through the hoistway door leads his chance encounter with Mr. Choi, your manager.

"Jeonghan", he calls him, "I have been meaning to meet you."

"Anything urgent Mr. Choi?"

Mr. Choi smiles, "It might be, for your concern. Y/N has requested for transfer, she wants to move out the team."

Jeonghan stiffens, all the strength in his body dwindles.

Carefully studying his face, his unfocused eyes and a lack of response urges Mr. Choi to speak further, "Since you're her immediate senior and she has been working under you for these years, your say would matter because I know no one would want to loose an efficient member like her. If the team has enough effort excluding her then I'd approve her request "

"Thanks for letting me know Mr. Choi. Please put it aside for now, I'll talk to her and get to back to you.", Jeonghan requests and the older man obliges.

You are currently working on reconciliation of a piece of code with all your concentration when there's a knock on your desk. You look up to find Jeonghan who's mutters a serious 'in my cabin now' when your gazes meet before walking into the said room.

You think of everything and anything you could have done to cause any trouble but nothing comes up, so you are immediately off your seat and entering the cabin.

Jeonghan has never felt this exhausted in his entire life, never because of you. When you used to clinge to him it had became a normality, though he never admited it was the only fun and good part of the office hours. You made him feel the belongingness, when everyone was scared of him, you were brave enough to step up and court him.

And now when he sees the indifference in you towards him, learns about Seokmin's feelings for you, he's beyond frustrated.

Another mistake, he channels it in a wrong way and at a wrong time.

"Jeonghan?"

Your call of his name breaks his reverie.

He looks you dead in yours eyes and asks, "You requested a tranfer?"

You knew your manager would be informing Jeonghan and the only obstacle in that request to get approved would be him, the reason you wanted the transfer in first place.

Before you could assert an answer Jeonghan scowls, "Are you really going to bring your personal life to your workspace? Suddenly one day you decide you'll stop liking me or whatever and then you're requesting to be assigned to a different project? Is that what you call professionalism Y/N?"

You are rendered speechless. You don't let those tears pooling in your eyes fall even though you are hurt.

"I thought two years is long enough to know someone", you inhale sharply, "But you don't know me at all. I wasted two years of my life for the guy who just now disregarded my love for him by calling it liking or whatever."

Jeonghan bites his tongue hard when he traces back on the words he had uttered.

"When I had asked you that if it would matter to you if I leave, you had casually slipped out a good riddance. So I'm doing us a favour and you should be happy but you're not.", you are hot in anger and rage, as your gaze tows upon the man infront of you, "You're not happy because no one's buying you coffee, no one's keeping you company, you don't have your files organised, you don't have anyone to take shit from you without retorting. Have you been always this selfish?"

It's his turn to be speechless. He has seemingly fueled every occurance for the past years to work against him currently.

"This is professionalism Yoon Jeonghan.", you tell him, "Me not stalling my growth anymore and letting in space for productivity and skills showcasing for myself is my professionalism. I stayed because of you but I won't do that anymore."

"I'm sorry, please let me clarify things", Jeonghan is eyeing you alarmingly as he walks towards you.

You hold out your arm and his feet instantly roots to the ground.

"Thanks for assuring me that I've made the right decision. You aren't worthy of my love, you never were. I'll stop loving you one day and I'll make sure that day comes soon."

A tear falls down your cheek and then they are streaming altogether. You fail to choke the sobs and Jeonghan says nothing, knowing that the only way he can help you is by keeping his silence.

And when you sprint out of the cabin, he wants nothing but to stop you and engulf you in his embrace. Although he's physically frozen but his mind deducts several conclusions.

He senses by hurting you, he hurts himself tenfold.

He laments on the fact that office is just all work and nothing to look forward to anymore because he misses you.

He likes his personal space invaded only if it's by you.

Maybe it's late but he's sure that his heart is constricting in pain within his chest because it's broken.

This time he's choking a sob, legs giving up as he falls to the ground when he finally accepts that he got his heartbroken even before he realised that he's in love.

That he's in love with you.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

#jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x y/n #yoon jeonghan #svt x reader #svt au #seventeen au #svt fanfic #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #svt jeonghan #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan angst #svt angst #svt fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #joonsytip #the selfish dilemma #seventeen fic #svt fic

[beomboomboom]

Hidden Secret

genre: fluff, fwb to lovers, drunk confession

pairing: Jeonghan x reader

summary: In which the one secret Jeonghan never wanted to reveal got revealed in the worst way possible.

warnings: mentions of drinking and alcohol, swearing, suggestive, mentions of sex

note: Drunk Jeonghan is so fine asdfghjkl (prove me wrong 😤😛). This fic is part of an ask for drunken confession fics. Enjoy reading the fic <33

Jeonghan doesn't consider himself one to keep secrets from you.

In fact, he's practically shown and told you everything. From all the juicy drama he hears from his friends to what his body looks like underneath all his baggy clothes that he wears all the time.

But there is an exception of course. He has one secret that he vows to never tell you, or anyone for that matter. A secret that he knows will most definitely ruin his friendship with you, or any contact with you at all in the first place.

A secret that has him wanting to be more than friends who casually fuck.

But he knows that you'll never see him that way. So rather than confessing to you, he's resolved to remain content, because being with you and being able to feel your body against his is better than nothing at all.

Groaning, Jeonghan begrudgingly wakes up as he feels a sharp throbbing pain in his head, evidence of his drinking activities last night.

Gosh, I really shouldn't have drank so much.

Yawning and stretching his arms, Jeonghan suddenly halts to a stop when he sees your bare body peacefully sleeping right next to him.

That's weird.

Normally after you and Jeonghan fuck he'll usually clean you up and walk you home, not let you stay and sleep with him (that only happens on your monday movie nights). So the fact that you're here sleeping next to him while naked is an rare occurrence to say the least.

Suddenly all the memories from last night flood back into his head.

The party.

Getting drunk.

Wait.

His secret he vowed to never tell anyone.

His secret that he might've just admitted to you while drunk last night.

Shit.

"Jeonghan?! Where are you dragging me?" You question, confusion evident on your face as Jeonghan whisks you away from your conversation at the party in his house.

"I need to tell you a secret," Jeonghan whispers into your ear with a drunk smile. "Let's go in there."

"Wait-" You yell as Jeonghan walks into a random closet and silently waits for you to join him. " Are you sure you want to tell your secret in there? Are you crazy? It's so cramped in there!"

"It's okay, I'll make space," Jeonghan says with a grin as he shuffles to the side. "Besides, it's not like it's your first time being this close to me."

Sighing, you enter the closet and shut the door. "Are you drunk right now? I can smell the alcohol in your breath."

"A littlee~," Jeonghan giggles as a wave of silence falls over the two of you.

"Jeonghan? What did you have to tell me?" You question as you look up in the his direction, where you notice his flushed face is looking at you with a certain feeling in his eyes that you can't exactly place.

"I love you!" Jeonghan leans down to your ear and whispers "but that's the secret, so I won't tell you about it"

"Stop joking with me," you say in disbelief. "You're drunk."

"And in lovee with you," Jeonghan replies with a giggle as he scoots closer to you to give you a peck on the lips.

You groan in reply, "fuck."

Grabbing Jeonghan's face you quickly attach your lips to his, as your lips quickly mold together with his in a symphony you know by heart at this point.

"Let's go upstairs to one of the empty rooms," Jeonghan mutters as he tears his lips away from yours and starts to drag you out of the closet. "I want to show you how much I love you."

Shit.

Jumping out of bed, Jeonghan runs to the bathroom and shuts the door. "Nononono. This can't be happening right now."

"This has to be a dream," Jeonghan mutters to himself as he splashes water on himself, dread filling his stomach as he feels the wetness of the water rolling down his face.

Fuck, this isn't a dream.

"I did not just mess up everything," Jeonghan mutters as he rubs his hands on his face. "Fuck."

Suddenly Jeonghan freezes the second he feels your arms slide around his waist, your face pressed against his back. "I saw you got out of bed earlier than me so I tried finding you. hehehe I guess I'm quite good at finding you, eh?"

Turning around abruptly, Jeonghan takes your face in his hands and asks, "do you remember what happened last night?"

"Yeah, your drunk confession was cute," You say with a giggle. "But don't worry, I feel the same way."

Jeonghan can only stare at you in shock. On one hand he's absolutely mortified that he had drunkenly confessed to you. But on the other hand he's screaming in disbelief, his one-sided love was not so one-sided after all.

"To be honest, I didn't want to tell you my feelings because I was afraid it would ruin our friendship," you admit bashfully. "So, I'm glad you confessed first."

Jeonghan fondly laughs in reply, "fuck, I love you so much."

Pressing his lips onto yours, all you can do is simply moan in response as Jeonghan starts to lead you to his bed.

"Let me show you how much I love you, without hiding it this time."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x y/n #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan x you

[hanggarae]

happy birthday jeonghan !

ONE TIME FOR THE BIRTHDAY BITCH 🗣️🔥 jeonghan x gn!reader fluff 0.9k words

“hannie just tell me what you want for your birthday” you whined on call for your boyfriend, getting louder when all he did was giggle instead of answering your question.

“baby you should be able to work out what i want on your own” jeonghan teased from the other line. “besides even if you can’t, i’d love anything you give me”

you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. jeonghan’s birthday was in less than a week and you still had no clue what to get him.

you could get him a lego set or more calico critters- but he somehow managed to have every set available.

“yn..” jeonghan said quietly over the phone, “if it makes you feel any better you’ll have an extra two weeks to shop anyway, we won’t be back until the 18th”

you pouted at his words. how the hell would that make you feel better? now you didn’t know what to get your boyfriend and you remembered you can’t see him for almost three weeks.

“no! i’ll have your gift by your actual birthday”

you heard jeonghan stifle a yawn and laugh, he and the rest of the guys were probably tired. you both said your goodbyes to each other and he promised to call tomorrow morning.

while you rested your head on the pillow and looked at the ceiling, you thought about what to get him again. shopping for him really wasn’t easy.

you unlocked your phone again, fingers automatically opening the notes page you had for brainstorming potential gift ideas.

“happy birthday!” the loud cheers from his members flooded jeonghan’s ears making him smile. it had just turned midnight and they were already at it.

truth be told he didn’t care about birthdays all that much- at least not it’s customs anyway. he didn’t really mind if people didn’t call him immediately at 12am to wish him a happy birthday, he didn’t care much about a cake or gifts- he just enjoyed that it gave him an excuse to feel loved by the people surrounding him without having to be shy about it.

so when you asked him what he wanted for his birthday, it’s not like he wasn’t answering you on purpose, it’s just that he genuinely didn’t know what he wanted from you, he just wanted you.

but he’d still have to wait three weeks for that. he was still in europe and you were halfway across the world from him, living in the shared apartment in seoul.

it would’ve been early morning for you, meaning you most likely weren’t up. so he didn’t bother checking his phone for a message from you.

meanwhile, you were arguing with one of the airport staffs about your lost luggage. it had jeonghan’s gift that you bought but weren’t sure about giving him because it was a little lackluster.

“you know what just leave it. it’s fine” you sighed out exasperated, deciding to just head to the hotel jeonghan was staying at instead.

you called for a taxi but somehow none were available. you checked on the gps app and it luckily wasn’t too far of a walk from the airport.

jeonghan usually slept late, so if you hurried you’d make it before he went to bed. the rain would be a problem though. you surveyed it for a few seconds before heading back to one of the airport shops, hoping to find an umbrella.

“stupid cheap airport umbrella” you muttered as the umbrella barely kept shape against the winds, leaving you mostly soaked despite your best efforts to get it to stick to its original shape.

your phone ringing caught you by surprise and you fished it out of your pocket but the rain had made your hand to slippery causing you to drop it, luckily it didn’t break but it left a crack meaning you’d have to replace your screen protector.

you answered the call, it was mingyu.

“i’m like ten minutes away, make sure he doesn’t go to bed!” you shouted over the rain. mingyu didn’t talk for long, telling you okay before he went to bother jeonghan again.

after a few more minutes, you were completely soaked, you cringed at how your wet clothes sticking to your figure and the sound your shoes would make every time you took a step.

you checked into the hotel, your room being on the same room as the guys’ so you could trade with whoever jeonghan was currently rooming with.

you checked mingyu’s text and made sure you were standing in front of the right room before knocking.

behind the door you could hear the guys all asking jeonghan to open the door because they all couldn’t be bothered, and you smiled at the tired sigh your boyfriend let out when he got closer to the door.

you opened your arms, ready to shout ‘happy birthday’ to your boyfriend only for him to interrupt you by saying “yn? what are you doing here? and why are you- get inside quick you’re gonna catch a cold!”

he beckoned everyone else out and into their own rooms then ran to his suitcase to get you one of his shirts. “quickly dry off then get changed and throw these to the laundry” jeonghan said hastily, already helping you get your long coat off.

you smiled at him, giggling when he looked at you confused. “happy birthday hannie” you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“thank you baby” he returned your kiss with one on your lips instead, “but seriously get under those blankets unless you want to spend my entire birthday sick”

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen x you #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fluff #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x y/n #yoon jeonghan imagines

[cheollipop]

calico

navi | taglist

pairing: ex!yoon jeonghan x bartender!reader

w.c.: 3.1k

tags: fem!reader, smut, angst, past infidelity/cheating, this is really toxic.... hate sex though....

the heartache from a past game of cat and dog—leaving you with nothing but a stained bed and a broken heart—came back tenfold when freshly-chopped hair and a sly smirk greeted you through the cracked-open, tinted window.

warnings: car sex, so semi-public sex, hate sex, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, some cockwarming, degradation (mentions of past cheating, both reader and jeonghan refer to the other as "slut"), reader is also called a cockslut at one point, hair pulling, pussy slapping, nicknames (hannie; darling), jeonghan is really toxic (and a big asshole), past infidelity, seungcheol is mentioned a few times *wink wonk*

A/N: this is for the anon who requested jeonghan ages ago. I might be 5 years late to writing it, but it's here hehe~ I'm so glad I finally got to write more for svt! this was really fun to write~ please consider leaving feedback/reblogging if you enjoyed! ^^ happy reading~~

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Frosty air cooled the sweat sticking to your exposed skin, heeled boots clacking over the pavement as you stumbled out of the creaky, metal door at the back of the club. You were way too sober, you thought, eyebrow twitching at the memory of your fight with the new manager. ‘No alcohol after you clock in,’ the high-pitched sound repeated in your ears. You worked just fine with a shot or two in your system; you’d argue you worked even better, able to drown out the slurred pick-up lines and simply pour drinks. Friday nights were the worst, and having to deal with clingy men who didn’t understand rejection—most of which not even your type—without alcohol had you considering a career change. So the second the clock hit eleven, you hurriedly wiped your station before another batch of college freshmen crowded the bar, grabbing your stuff and scrambling out the back exit.

Your legs carried you out of the small alleyway and onto the lit main sidewalk, thankful that the council finally replaced the flickering light bulb. Your eyes zeroed in on the bus stop down the road, and you quickly made your way towards it before the last bus could arrive.

A sudden horn blared to your right, cutting through the stillness and sounding over the distant music from the club behind you. Your fingers dug into your pocket on instinct to circle around the tube of pepper spray, your body tensing defensively as you faced the Jeep parked in front of you. The driver’s tinted window rolled down, a head of short, brown locks peeking through the gap. Your hand eased around the spray when you met with familiar, downturned eyes, hooded with what seemed like amusement. A shot of pain seared through your chest, your heart pounding against your ribcage as Jeonghan stared back at you blankly, a simple “hey” reverberating in the air between you.

“No bitches to cheat on tonight?” You spat, tightening your fingers around the jacket in your hand.

Why was he here? After you’d finally stopped looking for him in every corner, hoping he’d pull you out from behind the bar to give you a tearful apology? After the scent of his misdeeds had faded off your bedsheets, your slumber no longer interrupted by dreams about your heart being used as a plaything?

Jeonghan's eyebrow twitched, his amusement blending with irritation. “Seungcheol’s taken now, whose cock would they jump on if I did?”

Resentment seeped into your chest, and you considered pepper spraying him just to erase that smug smirk off his face. But you turned away from him, sucking in the cool air while scheming eyes bore into your profile. You willed your legs into motion, your footsteps sounding to the beat of the muffled club music as you continued your journey down to the bus stop. A car door slammed somewhere behind you, and you picked at the side of your index finger while you walked, hoping it was just a clubber who’d been running late. A firm hand wrapped around your upper arm and twisted you around, striking out the previous possibility when Jeonghan’s hot breath brushed against your face.

“Let me drive you home,” he mumbled, his hand relaxing around your arm but not quite releasing it.

You couldn’t help but pity him in this moment. A man who’d broken your heart and left you to mend it alone, curled up on your bedroom floor while he stuffed his belongings into a worn-down duffle, not even an apology or a goodbye, only the loud clang of his spare key landing on your console before the front door slammed shut. That same man, two years later, parked in front of your workplace—for God knows how many hours—only to drive you home? A part of you was curious why that was. The other, though, wanted to get the fuck away from him.

“Why? So I can hear more about how not sorry you are? No thanks,” you tugged against his grasp, now tight around your arm again.

“(Y/n), please. I won’t say anything, I just wanna drive you home,” the subtle hint of desperation in his voice alarmed you. It didn’t make sense, and yet the unanswered question overshadowed your confusion. The anger that had been simmering in your gut was beginning to boil.

“So you actually don’t feel guilty?” You didn’t mean for your voice to crack, and yet the ache in your chest nearly made you double over the further his silence stretched—the same one that had robbed you of sleep, kept you away from all potential love interests, had you curled up in the same sheets the reeked of adultery and betrayal while Jeonghan continued to jump from woman to woman, a trail of his sins dragging behind his indifferent figure. “Let me go, Jeonghan,” your tone was weak, defeated, once again faced with agonizing reality—he’d moved on long before that day.

You missed the way his eyelids fluttered at the delicate roll of his name off your tongue, the sound sparking a memory into the front of his mind, a collage of smiles and easy laughter echoing in his ears. His hand raised to grab onto your other arm, possessiveness laced with concern slowly overtaking him at the sight of you—shoulders slumped, eyes glassy and your fingers shaking where they curled into fists at your sides, the mere mention of his indifference reducing you to the same, hurt woman he's left behind.

“It’s late. Let me just-” He paused. Jeonghan never paused, not even when you stood at your doorway, looking him in the eye while he soiled your bedsheets with someone else. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

You blamed it on the quiver in your legs, the loss of willpower to move yourself away from him, but this time, you didn’t argue.

--

‘I thought you would be okay,

You thought I would be the same,’

Dpr Ian played through the speakers, the volume on low despite the silence stretching between you and the man in the driver’s seat. You realized you hadn’t needed to give him directions, a relationship of three years enough to engrave the way to your apartment into his mind forever. Your eyes flitted over to the side every now and then, taking in the shadows cast over Jeonghan’s cheekbones with every passing streetlight, his fringe fanning over his forehead in a way unfamiliar to you. Looking back to the front, you decided you preferred his longer hair, and missed the innocent glimmer in his dark eyes. Though despite all the changes—new car, new hair, new attitude and style—Jeonghan still used the same perfume, one that you’d bought him for the first birthday you’d celebrated together. Something in your gut stirred at the thought, but you were unsure whether it was pleasant or not.

‘it’s just another show,

Don’t want your world no more,’

Jeonghan cleared his throat, “I got promoted to manager,” he spoke, breaking the silence.

“Good for you,” your tone was cold, uninterested.

“Yeah.”

Dpr Ian continued to play, ‘You’re so addicted to my bad decisions.’

“How’s bartending been?”

“It’s okay.”

He hummed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he took a right turn. “Mm, I worry about you sometimes. People can act crazy when drunk.”

Your eyebrow twitched, irritation creeping into your tone, “you don’t get to be worried about me.” You felt the urge to slam your fist into his unnecessarily sharp jaw, to watch bruises paint his face until the rage embedded so deep within your soul dissipated.

A few seconds of silence passed as Jeonghan parked parallel to the empty sidewalk in front of your apartment building, sighing while turning off the engine and twisting in his seat to face you. “You know, I’m just trying to be nice here.”

Your fists clenched, mirroring Jeonghan and turning around to look at him with hooded eyes, your muscles clenching and relaxing in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought to do that before you fucked a random girl in my bed,” you spat, content to have watched his face fall before turning your back to him and reaching for the door handle.

A hand flew over your shoulder before your fingers could reach their target, his index and thumb grabbing your jaw and forcefully forcing you back into your prior position. “And you thought sleeping with my best friend was a good way to handle it?” He pulled you closer to him, your lower belly digging into the console as he bent you over it, his face mere inches away and his breath blowing warm over your cheeks.

“You don’t get to blame me-”

He was quick to interrupt your defense, “you think I didn’t notice you acting like a slut to get his attention? Way before anything even happened,” his grip on your face tightened, inching his own closer as he spoke, each word falling off his tongue making the knot in your stomach wind tighter. “The looks,” something in his eyes glimmered, and while that once made butterflies flutter in your stomach, it now grew the lump in your throat until it restricted your airway. “The touches,” his breath fanned over your face, small beads of sweat pilling over your skin at the humidity, and perhaps at the rasp in Jeonghan’s voice as he laid out your sins before you. “The pictures.”

Your fingers gripped the console, slipping off with streaks of sweat staining the black leather. Heart pounding in your ears, you hoped Jeonghan’s hearing somehow declined during the years you’d spent apart, the ringing in your ears fogging up all thoughts. You blamed the nerves on his accusations—a dark past you thought you’d buried without trace—and yet the proximity, the lack of space between your face and Jeonghan’s, the mint lacing his breath and the rasp in every word he spoke, you found hidden tinges of arousal mixed in with your anxiety, dousing your panties as you tried to escape the man’s grasp.

“Why are you here, Jeonghan?” Your voice wavered, but this time, you didn’t miss the wave of what seemed like relief painting his face when his name rolled off your tongue.

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”

The ache in your chest returned, your eyebrows furling until you appeared wounded by his words. “Not for a second,” your voice remained firm, though, sparing him no glimpse at your heart.

Jeonghan only scoffed, amused by the contrast between your tone and expression. He leaned closer—as though your indifference urged him to prove himself to you—pressing his lips the corner of your mouth, whispering his next words against the soft skin, “you’re not entirely wrong… but I did miss one thing.”

‘I thought you would be okay,

You thought I would be the same.’

--

Your lower back dug into the steering wheel, the leather beneath your knees creaking as you adjusted your position over Jeonghan, your pants shamefully thrown over the passenger seat. Teeth clacked against each other, heavy breaths mingling between your open mouths as your tongues pressed together in a battle of lust.

Two fingers spread you open, curling between your sopping walls until your eyes rolled back, his other hand holding up the window switch, waiting until the darkened glass closed fully before moving it to your hip.

Squeezing the supple flesh, Jeonghan groaned into your parted lips, “still so fucking tight, did Seungcheol not fuck you well enough?”

Heat flared up your chest, “shut up.”

You’d thought two years and countless hookups would’ve blurred Jeonghan's memory of you, but his fingers fucked into you with purpose, as though every inch of your body, every motion that drove pleasure up your spine had become second nature to him.

“I bet he didn’t know how to satisfy my pretty slut,” he pressed his lips to your cheek, using the hand on your hip to guide you over his fingers.

“Sh-shut up-”

He slipped out of you, gliding his digits down your cunt and over your clit before landing a harsh slap over the nub, your body jolting over him and a broken cry sounding in the humid car. The wet clap of his hand on your drenched pussy repeated, and you mumbled incoherently through a breathy moan.

“What was that? Speak up for me, darling,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

The urge to punch the playfulness off his face dissipated when skilled fingers brushed over your clit, “fuck, again-”

And he conceded, bringing his hand down on your pussy once more to watch your back arch into the steering wheel behind you, lips parting as pain mingled with pleasure, your cunt throbbing under Jeonghan’s palm. That same hand swiftly moved to your face, fingers digging into your jaw and smearing your arousal over your skin while his other worked over his zipper, quickly undoing his pants and pushing them down far enough to take his cock out. It leaked precum over his black button-up, the vein lining the underside throbbing at the sight of you above him—eyes glazed over and fixed on his hard length, your tongue digging into the inside of your cheek.

His fingers tapped against your clit, once, twice, before landing another rough slap over it. He grabbed himself around the base, groaning at the sudden contact as he positioned you over the leaking cockhead, “be a good girl for once and- fuck-”

You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, sliding down his length unprompted until his cock was sheathed entirely between your fluttering walls. You rolled your hips to adjust, forcing your chests flush as you moved and pressing your lips to the shell of Jeonghan’s ear.

“You talk as if you’ve done nothing wrong, but you’re just as much of a slut as I am, aren’t you, Hannie?” Trailing feathery kisses over his jaw, you slipped his cock halfway out of your cunt before sliding him back inside, squeezing your walls around him to feel the stuttered rise and fall of his chest against you. “You fucked me that morning, then brought that bitch into my bed a couple hours after,” you pecked the sharp edge of his jawline, moving your lips back to his ear to whisper your next words, “didn’t even have the decency to take her to your apartment-”

Rough fingers tangled in the hair at your nape, tugging your face back until you met with unfocused eyes. Jeonghan readjusted under you, digging his feet into the clean mats and thrusting upwards experimentally, scoffing at the moan you tried to suppress. Your neck craned uncomfortably, gritting your teeth as Jeonghan eyed you silently, a hand on your hip keeping you still and leaving you helpless to do anything but warm his cock.

So you commenced your taunts, desperately trying to wiggle out of his grasp while you spoke, “how many hours have you been waiting outside, huh? Just to get your dick wet-”

“I have you on my cock now, don’t I?” His fingers tightened around your hair, and he leaned back in his seat, fucking up into your clenching cunt before you could think of anything to say—assuming you were still capable of processing anything but the smooth drag of his length between your pulsing walls, his nails digging thin crescents into the flesh of your hip. His breathing grew heavy, and yet his words remained clear, contemptuous. “You may hate me, darling, but whether you like it or not, you’ll keep coming back to me,” the hand in your hair eased, fingers scratching soothingly at your sore scalp and pushing your head closer to his, bringing his voice down to a whisper, “because you’re my pretty cockslut, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan nuzzled his nose into your cheek, planting a tender kiss to the heated skin while you frantically nodded your head. A staccato of moans and repetitions of his name rolled off your tongue as he brought you down to meet his relentless thrusts, his own grunts adding to the stuffiness in the closed-up car. He pounded into your dripping cunt, taking in the jolts of pleasure shaking your body every time he drove his cockhead into your g-spot, your moans growing needier the closer he pushed you towards the edge.

With one final slap to your throbbing pussy, your vision darkened and your body curled in on itself. Jeonghan’s fingers rubbed quick circles over your swollen nub, watching you writhe on top of him as waves of pleasure seared through you, your moans high-pitched and desperate as he guided you through your orgasm with unrelenting fingers, spark after spark of simmering heat blinding you to everything but Jeonghan.

He felt his own high approaching at the tight squeeze of your walls around him, his thrusts slowing down when you tumbled over the edge, but returning to their frenzied pace to chase his orgasm. Your fingers closed over his upper arms, tinges of overstimulation blending with the ecstasy of his cock slamming into your used cunt.

“Fuck- where do you want me, darling?” He rolled his head back over the headrest, eyes lidded with burning arousal and his thighs beginning to cramp up at the pace he was going at.

“Inside, Hannie, hnngh! Please, inside,” you said, words slurred and interrupted by a harmony of moans, disregarding the soreness between your legs while you begged Jeonghan to come inside you.

He laughed at the desperation, the sweet noise—airy, gravelly with the lust clouding his every sense—was cut short, interrupted by a throaty grunt as he emptied inside you, hot ropes of cum pulsing out of him to paint your walls. Cupping your ass with both hands, he sunk his fingers into the flesh and guided you over his cock in slow rolls of your hips, breathing in the air the other exhaled, eyes locked as the last spurt of cum warmed your insides.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but now, with your head resting on Jeonghan’s chest, his steady heartbeat echoing in your ears and cum slowly dribbling out of you while his cock remained sheathed deep inside, you realized you’d let your walls down for the man who’d caused them to go up, sinking into the pleasure he so generously poured into you. The walls you’d been holding up for two years, the pain he’d left you with sparking fear in your heart every time someone tried to get closer. And yet, the same man who’d planted that fear inside you somehow breached past the infrastructure you’d spent so long strengthening.

While you laid there in the faux sense of security Jeonghan so easily provided, you realized he was right: you will always find your way back to him.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #yoon jeonghan angst #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen fanfic #yoon jeonghan fanfic #yoon jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan imagines

[seungcheorry]

jeonghan making you late to work because he keeps holding you back in his bed. he's caressing, kissing, hugging, grabbing you - honestly, he just doesn't want you to leave him. he doesn't want your side of the bed to go cold.

jeonghan then has his way with you. two sleepy, enamored bodies seeking release, lost in a mix of sweat, curses, and sweet words being whispered. he breathes against your lips when he cums, calling your name and melting on your palm as you caress his face.

#yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan headcanons #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan headcanons #jeonghan smut #seventeen headcanons #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt headcanons #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt x you #seventeen #svt #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #svt smut

[amourcheol]

paris (teaser)

❝You and Jeonghan, jazz-filled corners, hidden history, and the city of love.❞

historical! au | exes to lovers! au | angst, fluff, smut | approx. 45k words (teaser wc. 1.4k words)

s u m m a r y : disgraced by hollywood for the last time, you, a once superstar-turned-alcoholic, escape to the city of love to seek sanctuary from the ruthless tabloids. your sanctuary comes in the form of film noir superstar yoon jeonghan, the enigmatic man who taught you the art of acting, lust and love before your fame. when he asks to meet you once, just like old times, you cannot refuse. what is meant to be a simple date turns into a path of passion, pain and everything that comes with fooling around with your ex in the jazz-filled corners of paris.

c o n t e n t s : actor! mc, actor! jeonghan, mc is incredibly bitter and makes bad decisions, agent! seungkwan who is tired of fixing them, jeonghan is the suavest, sultriest mf, mentions of parisian landmarks in this fic, also a bit of french peppered throughout, greek mythology art references, tons of fluff which is also layered with angst, this will be very hurt-comfort, hella ansgty but will have a happy ending mature warnings -> alcohol consumption and abuse, smoking, this is basically sexual tension with plot, slightly drunk making out, oral sex (f. receiving) unprotected sex (refer point to bad decisions), very soft angsty sex, body worshipping, petnames (chérie, mon ange, darling, angel), overall emotional rollercoaster, more tba!

p l a y l i s t : here!

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld​ @sysymei @alaypsy23 @belladaises @jjeongddol @sparklyshuji @forcoups @ilovesungjun @wonwoo24 @scandal-in-bohemia @hopefulchick @superbbananananana @onedumbho3 @fragmentof-indifference @cuntycheol @rubywonu @if-i-like-i-reblog @yoonzinoooo @jungwoos-luvr @crookedwolfruins @leclercloverbot​ @alexai (let me know if y’all want to be tagged!)

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : after three years ... four rewritings later... she may finally see the light ... i am releasing the teaser now but will post the fic when i’m back from holiday! i hope you all enjoy the lil extract <3

read this fic here!

SHIT. YOU COULD NOT DO THIS TODAY.

Suddenly, you wished he was a mere figment of your imagination, because then he would not have to see you in your drunken, disordered state, looking for art that was not there, looking for the past in the present.

But then he began to move.

This very real presence walked closer to you, and you felt your entire body constricting, because Yoon Jeonghan was in front of you, the greatest star in the world was approaching you, the man of your distant memories was coming too close.

“Wait,” he then said, and your throat was closing up, you were blinking rapidly, chest growing heavy, and you needed him to get away. He came closer, and you knew then and there you were going to die on the cold floor of the Louvre, marble eyes on you—

And then your own gaze was glistening, and when he noticed it became harder to contain yourself. “_____, are you all right?”

“Yes!” you got out, but then you proved yourself wrong when a few tears slipped out, staining your cheeks.

The man wasted no time, closing the last space between the two of you as he reached out. Instantly, you repelled from his touch, almost flinching from his surprise. “No!�� you rasped out, bringing out your own hands to create distance, taking a step back. “No, you don’t need to do that…I’m fine.” 

You breathed sharply through your nose. “I am fine.”

Hastily you turned to the empty space where he last was, before you followed him like a madwoman around the hall. He watched you, your back almost to him. “What…what are you…” you paused, trying to normalise your shaking voice. “What are you doing here?”

You could feel his inquisitive stare upon you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

That question was not being answered. “I asked you first.”

Because you could not see him, you were not aware of his reaction. Still, it was enough for him to answer, “Well, in the Louvre, or in Paris?”

You gritted your teeth at that. “I think everyone knows why you’re in Paris at the moment.”

“Do they, now?”

You could not help it.

Casting a momentary glance at him, you were taken aback to find his gaze upon you. “Are you aware, at least?” he asked you.

Despite his simple questions, your impending headache, you had to clamp down on your remarks. “Of course I’m aware,” you muttered. “The papers are all over the press tours you’ve been doing.”

A perfectly groomed brow arched at your comment. “I’m surprised you follow the papers at the moment.” 

You knew exactly what he meant. “One must keep check of the stories they gossip about,” you only said, focusing back on the empty space. “Those journalists cannot be trusted.”

“Hmm…” you heard shuffling amongst his clothes—no doubt crossing his arms. “I have read the stories.”

A scoff. “I suppose you believe them, don’t you?”

He noted the cruelty in your response. The actor did not take it to heart.

“I have always believed in the stories you told me, chérie.”

This time, curiosity controlled your movement.

Curiosity had you turning back, forcing you to observe his expression, catch his lie. 

But you found no deception.

No, there was only sincerity—pure as the moonlight shining on the two of you.

Chérie.

The last time someone had called you such a sweet name was too long ago.

How ironic, that it was the same man beside you who had bestowed you this very endearment.

A shuddered breath left you. 

You could not do this now.

You were going to say as much when Jeonghan interrupted you.

“Were you looking for something in here?”

Your furrowed brows had him humming. “I thought as much.” Gently, he jerked his head beyond your figure. “Strangely enough, I was looking for it as well.”

Confused, you glanced back at the empty space, where that certain, mysterious sculpture was supposed to be. “That is why I came to the Louvre,” you heard him say.

There was still suspicion laced in your features. “How do you know that we are thinking of the same piece?”

That ghost of a smile crept up again. “You act as if you don’t remember.”

Your sigh was a little sheepish. “I do,” you said, reminiscing on the memories. “But the name…”

No matter how hard you endeavoured, your memory of the sculpture was too hazy for your half-drunk mind. 

You searched him for an answer. “I’m sure you have not forgotten.”

“No…I have not.”

You waited. His silence had you insisting, “Well?”

When you saw a slight glimmer in his whimsical gaze, you knew that he had something else in mind. The implications had you biting your lower lip, anxiety blooming.

The nerves grew when Jeonghan spoke.

“I will tell you if you see me tomorrow.”

You blinked back.

“There’s an exhibition opening here tomorrow afternoon,” he continued, taking a step towards you, careful not to startle you again. “It’s centred on the sculpture we both wanted to see, but it’s been moved to another hall.”

He confused you a great amount. “How do you know that?”

His stare went beyond you, to the wall. “It says on the plaque.”

Sure enough—when you looked back, there was the notice. Because your French was adequate at best, you did not understand it fully. You simply had to trust his linguistic abilities.

That you could do—you were aware of Jeonghan’s fluency in the language of love. 

He cocked his head, a few strays cascading the side of his face. “You and I could see it there.”

The offer had shaken you. “Why?”

“Why?”

You knitted your brows suspiciously. “Why do you want to go with me?”

The film noir star watched you then, you shuffling uncomfortably under his scrutiny. God, you forgot how intense his eyes were—in fairness, you had not been the subject of his stares for a few years. 

He locked his gloved hands behind his back. “Because you need a break, _____. From everything.”

He offered you a smile. “Let me be the one to give you that. If only for the day.”

You could have crumbled before him.

It was at this stage you cursed yourself for being in such a state. Perhaps if you were sober, you would have carried on this conversation in a more respectable manner, taken more caution.

It was incredibly difficult, composing yourself around the man.

“I can’t…” you inhaled sharply, trying to form the words. “I cannot do midday…too many people, you know…staring, judging…”

“Ah.” He nodded, parting his mouth in thought. “Then tomorrow night?”

Stretching your mouth, unsure, he assured, “They will not follow you here at this hour.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

This time, he sighed, surprised at your anxiousness. “I see you’ve not changed, then.”

You narrowed your gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

But the actor did not seem like he was going to elaborate. 

He instead took another step towards you, a mere two feet left. 

“Do you trust me?”

You tilted your head back. 

What kind of question was that?

Do you trust me?

You did not trust anyone. Not after this whole debacle back home, when almost all your friends within the industry had contributed to your downfall. Hollywood was filled with traitors, the worst being the people who haunted the journey of your disgrace at every moment.

It was impossible to place any ounce of faith in another.

As you watched his eyes settle on you, you noticed an emotion you had not witnessed in forever.

Tenderness.

Tenderness with no ulterior motive—gentle acceptance, as if he recognised your position. As if he recognised your change, the apprehensive nature of your questions, your pauses. It physically hurt being stained with such compassion, when you had been begging for it from the world all those weeks ago.

It hurt, having someone who understood you.

You, however, should not have been surprised.

Yoon Jeonghan had always been like this. Especially when you both were together.

You could have smiled. 

What a time that was.

As if he could read your mind, the film noir star began, “You remember, don’t you? That I’ve never let you down?”

You decided to let yourself slip—you could always blame it on the alcohol. 

“What time do you want me here tomorrow?”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #yoon jeonghan imagines #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #jeonghan x reader #svt smut #svt imagines #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen hard hours #svt hard hours #yoon jeonghan #seventeen angst #jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan angst

[wongyuuu]

lens of ice | yjh | two (final)

pairing: jeonghan x f!reader genre: figure skater jeonghan, light angst, a little fluff, these people are just in soo love, smut word count: 17k summary: jeonghan has only one chance left to make it to the olympics. as he embarks on this decisive journey, you, a documentarist, are set to follow him as he seeks the ultimate glory. warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, masturbation (f) a/n: i can't belive i actually managed to finish this one! i started to write it maybe in october and it took me forever but here it is. again, thank you to @ressonancee for giving me the idea and putting up with my shit💓

part one || part two (final)

The thought of going back on your word crossed your mind, truthfully. You weren’t even sure why you said yes to dinner with Jeonghan in the first place.

It was a recipe for disaster. It was the only way you could possibly describe the situation, to begin with. The flirting had gotten out of hand, to the point where Seungkwan was already angry and had said “if he grows balls big enough to ask you out, please say yes, this tension is annoying”. Vernon had agreed.

When you heard that from Seungkwan, you thought that he was crazy, that he had completely lost his mind. While it was safe to say that you had developed a crush on Jeonghan, something completely inappropriate in your work, it was hard to tell where he stood.

You liked to think that from day one you were able to say what was on Jeonghan’s mind. You had been able to say that he was holding back on his answers and you called him out on his shit, something that proved to be very efficient, because after that he started to answer all of your questions with honesty. Or at least, you liked to think that he was.

It never really crossed your mind that Jeonghan might have some sort of interest in you. You thought that he was flirting more for sport than for anything else.

The rumors ran around, about how he was sort of a player but he was careful not to date any other skater. Not to create a sense of discomfort, someone had said on a forum online.

It was something that you had yet to ask him. About his love life. And there were two main reasons for that: 1) you didn’t know if it was something that he wanted to talk about and unless he had a wife or a serious girlfriend, it mattered very little to the documentary; 2) you didn’t want to know the answer.

It had never happened to you like that before. You had done so many interviews, went to many places, met so many different people, and not a single one of them was able to captivate you quite as Jeonghan had.

You knocked on the door and waited. A second later, Jeonghan opened the door. You had grown too used to seeing him in comfortable clothes, shirts that were way too big for him, sweats. The only piece of clothing that showed any shape of his body were the pants he used to practice and even then, everything was hidden under a large hoodie.

The man in front of you had tailored pants and a dress shirt on, the sleeves folded back, revealing his arm.

You cleared your throat, suddenly unaware of what to say.

“I was thinking you had given up,” he said with a smile, almost uncertain.

You shook your head immediately.

“There was a lot of traffic today, it’s a friday after all”

It was indeed friday but there wasn’t as much traffic as you made it seem. The truth was that you were late to leave your apartment. Just as you were leaving you got cold feet and sat down on the couch for about twenty minutes, wondering if you were doing the right thing.

What if whatever happened that night, let it be good or bad, affected your job? Realistically speaking, there was no way that it wouldn’t. If it turned out to be a bad date, then things could get awkward. And if it turned out to be good you simply wouldn’t know how to handle yourself or him.

“Sorry that I didn’t take you out, out. And this is all that I had to offer”

He took a step to the side, giving you enough space to walk in. Although you had been to his home many times and sort of knew how it looked from the heart, it felt different to walk in without having Seungkwan and Vernon at your back, carrying one too many bags of gear. The place looked all too different and familiar at the same time.

“No, this is great actually” you smiled at him.

Your smile grew bigger once you saw the table he had set. The room was half lit by candles, in the center of the table was a small vase with fresh flowers, the city behind the window a perfect canvas. A bottle of wine waited for the two of you and the plates, delicate porcelain, were set. Instead of sitting opposite each other, Jeonghan made it so that you were both facing the window.

“You said you liked the night view,” he said while scratching the back of his head.

You turned to him, smiling, wanting to reassure him that it was perfect.

“I really do,” you said softly “Did you cook?”

The apartment smelled heavenly. It was the smell of homemade food if you still even knew what that was like. At least you had never ordered food that smelled like that. Maybe ordering was something that you weren’t that good at, or maybe Jeonghan was just one of those people who went above and beyond even when just ordering.

“I did,” he said proudly “I don’t know if it tastes good, but I followed the recipe to the T”

He pulled the chair out for you, his smile sweet while he watched you. 

The little butterflies on your stomach found life again, suddenly floating around. You wanted to face-palm yourself. Just a few months before you thought the worst about Jeonghan and suddenly there you were, saying yes to a date with him, your heart hammering inside your chest. 

With one of his hands still on the back of our chair, Jeonghan reached for the bottle of wine, pouring some of it into the glass in front of you.

You expected him to sit by your side but he took a step back, making a turn to the kitchen. You started to get up to follow him, but Jeonghan came back and pushed you onto the chair again. 

“Let me help you,” you laughed, looking up at him.

Jeonghan scrunched his nose at you and shook his head. 

“You stay right here. I’m just going to bring the food out”

He squeezed your shoulder before moving to the kitchen.

You rested your chin on your hand, looking at the city in front of you. There were very few parts of town that had such a beautiful view, not that you were one to enjoy looking at lit-up buildings. But maybe it was the moment, it was the way the way your skin tingled where Jeonghan’s fingers had touched you. You pressed a hand to your chest, urging your heart to calm down a little.

You liked to think that you were only feeling that way because it had been a long time since you had dated someone, since anyone had shown real interest in you, since you wanted to get to know someone past the work environment. 

There was a little movement to your right before Jeonghan came back into the room. He set the dish in front of you and while you weren’t too sure what it was — it looked like some kind of stew — it smelled and looked amazing.

“I have to admit that I don’t usually cook a lot, or at all most times” he laughed “Most times someone comes in and cooks enough for a week or two, following the diets I have to be on. So all I have to do is take it out of the freezer and eat”

You watched as he set the dish in front of you, steam coming out of it, and put some on the place in front of you. He did the same for himself before finally sitting by your side. 

“I never saw someone around here, besides Joshua”

You took a sip of the wine before taking the spoon in your hand. 

“She usually comes when I’m out for practice, or in these past few months…” Jeonghan was in the middle of his sentence when he saw your writhed face “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with both hands, trying to hold back your laugh.

Jeonghan looked at you, laughing too, but he was in complete disbelief.

“It can’t be this bad” he reached for his spoon.

You were already laughing when Jeonghan started to cough, taking a large gulp of the wine. How had he managed to fuck up so bad was beyond him. He followed the recipe to the details but somehow it tasted bitter.

“Did you taste it, at all?”

“I… no?”

He groaned when you started to laugh at him again but somehow ended up right along with you. 

“I swear I followed the recipe,” he said again. 

He wanted to have a nice date with you and get to know you better. Although it wasn’t going exactly as he had planned, seeing you laugh like that, so loudly and carefree somehow made it all worth it. Jeonghan made a mistake that he shouldn’t have, one that with someone else would have turned the night into a complete disaster but with you, it became something to laugh about. 

And Jeonghan loved the sound of your laugh. Since he met you on that first day, he wondered what it would be like to hear it. You had gone off on him, baring guns in both hands, your hostility screaming at him the entire time. 

He had done his best, or at least he thought he did. However, on the very next day, you called him off on his shit and said that the footage they had was unusable because he hadn’t been honest enough. 

Jeonghan hadn’t been honest enough with anyone, ever. He wasn’t even sure that he was honest with himself. He always worried about whether or not he was able to move forward. Pushing forward was one thing, actually living was another one, entirely too different. 

Throughout most of his life, Jeonghan only knew how to push forward, like a bull. The world around him mattered very little, the people around him mattered even less. 

Somewhere along the way, Jeonghan became all too obsessed with numbers and the love he had for the sport became a shadow. Even then, when he was doing everything in his power to make it to the next Olympics, his last, he wasn’t really sure it was something he still wanted or if he was doing all of that simply because it became second nature to him. 

Skating was like breathing but it had become awfully painful to do so. 

And then you came in and for the first time, he wanted to impress someone. Who he already was, or the version of him he showed, did nothing for you. You looked bored most of the time. Talking with Seungkwan about it had made things clear in his mind. And he felt it in the way the original direction of the documentary had changed. 

It wasn’t just about the sport anymore, how he was healing to make it to the competition. It truly became about him. 

“Maybe something was rotten, don’t worry about it” you patted his hand, reassuringly. 

Jeonghan saw a chance and he took it, holding your hand. For a second your fingers stilled in his, your eyes a little wide looking back at his. He almost pulled away from you, his dropping a little when you didn’t seem to want his touch. 

Then your eyes grew a little softer and ever so lightly you held his hand back. 

“I really wanted to have a nice dinner with you, though”

You couldn’t help but smile at his cute pout. 

“Maybe we could order something?” you pointed at the wine in front of you “In my experience, wine and pizza are a great combo”

You were the first one in the office, which was a first for you. Not that you were someone who was constantly late. It was just that you were usually the last one to leave. 

However, sleep wasn’t something that came to you. You were too giggly, your mind wandering through places that normally it didn’t so you thought that working a little was maybe a good idea to take your mind off things. 

Not things. Someone. 

Yoon Jeonghan.

Despite the initial accident, the night had been nothing but perfect. When was the last time you had fun? Actual fun, not the kind you sort of force yourself to have not to bother others, or to try to fit in some sort of situation. 

The night with Jeonghan had been so easy. Conversation simply floating around you. You didn’t feel like you were there to interview him or to be interviewed. You were just talking, getting to know each other in a way that was so entirely different from how things had gone between the two of you until then.

Jeonghan, you learned, was a menace in school and with his sister, always playing pranks and still somehow managing to get away every single time. I could make such an innocent face and everyone would just fall for it, he said at some point. There was no hint of regret in his voice and his eyes were filled with mischievousness while he talked. 

“There were these kids who made fun of me because I was a small kid. I tried to let it go but it went on for months. One day,” he said smiling, the memory of the day still completely fresh in his mind “I was already angry that I couldn’t make a move, I don’t even remember what it was, to be honest. They kept picking on me, saying these snarky comments so I waited. One of them left his bag behind, with his skates hanging off of them. I filled both of them with boiling water. I still remember his mother screaming at him”

You gasped, sort of laughing but also a little bit in shock at the mind of a 9-year-old. But awfully dangerous too, for both of them. 

“What if he put the skates on?”

It was hard to mask the horror in your voice

“It was after practice, while we waited for our parents to pick us up. He left his skates back and went to play because his mom was late. I just wanted to ruin his skates, not for him to get hurt. I took his takes to the kitchen, poured the water in, and let it sit there for about ten minutes before I put his bag back where I found it”

Your laugh was too spontaneous and Jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh along. Since the moment he saw you for the first time, he thought of you as beautiful but watching you laugh, so openly and carefree was breathtaking. His heart behaved in a way that he didn’t see coming. 

“I think we need to send you to a doctor because I refuse to believe you’re normal”

Suddenly just holding your hand wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted to kiss you, he wanted to know what it would feel like to press against yours and have you want it too. His mind, he had decided long before he even met you, was the kind that liked to play tricks. So maybe it was playing a trick and it came up with the thought that you wanted to kiss him too. Maybe he was imagining that your eyes moved from his eyes to his lips from time to time.

He wanted to make the first move, he knew that if he didn’t the chance of you doing it was very little. At the same time, he was scared that it might push you too far. You had gotten surprised enough when he held your hand.

Realistically he knew that it wasn’t much but the two of you worked together and there was still so much more to do, the Olympics were still months away. And although you weren’t going to see each other every single day in those months, you would still have enough meetings. 

So what if he read it all wrong and things suddenly became awkward again? The last thing he wanted to do was go back to how it was when you first time. You had been cold and distant but for an entirely different reason. 

“Jeonghan?” your voice had been the quiets he had ever heard from you “It might be the wine talking so if I do say something weird please blame it on the alcohol and tomorrow we pretend that I never said anything at all”

He looked the the two bottles already empty and the third one by the middle. It was, indeed, a lot of wine. 

“Is everything okay?”

You sighed, eyes closed for a second before finally looking at him again. 

“I need you to kiss me, okay?” you said exasperated “Because if you don’t I don’t think I…”

Jeonghan’s lips were on yours before you even finished what you were saying. He hoped that it was along the lines of I don’t think I will. 

Your lips, he decided right then, were his favorite thing in the entire world. He loved that when he pressed harder you made way for him, your lips parted to give him full access. Your hand moved from his chest, up to his shoulder, and then the nape of his neck, lightly tugging at his hair. And when you let out a small whimper on the back of your throat he swore his entire world almost became undone. 

The night had turned, somehow, into a make-out session. The two of you ended up on his couch, hands all over each other and bubbling laughter. And you refused to complain. It was everything you wanted and then so much more. 

Leaving had been so hard. All you wanted to do was to lose yourself in Jeonghan and all that he was and that silently promised to be, even if it was just for one night. You had to force yourself to leave and Jeonghan didn’t make it easier for you. If anything, he did his best to make it as hard as possible. 

He went down with you, and waited for the cab by your side, your hand tucked inside the pocket of his jacket while he played with your fingers. 

“You could let me take you back” you looked at him, eyebrows raised “I don’t mean driving but I could get in the cab with you and then come back”

“That’s just a waste of time. I’ll text you once I get home, I promise”

It was clear that your answer wasn’t the one he wanted but it was the only one he was going to get. He pulled you closer to him while you waited for the cab. The position was awkward you didn’t want to move, not in the least.

You were there for a couple of minutes before the taxi finally pulled up by your side. Jeonghan opened the door for you and waited for you to get inside. 

“Sir, I may not look like it, but I am crazy. So I hope you can get her some safe and sound”

The driver looked at you from his rearview mirror, eyes wide. 

“He really is” you played along “He once threw hot water at a kid”

Jeonghan laughed, a little too hysterically, too much wine you were sure. He stuck his head through the window and quickly kissed you. 

“Seriously, text me as soon as you get home”

With a groan, you hid your face in your hands, knowing fully well that the warmth in your cheeks didn't come from the weather but from the memory of Jeonghan. You laughed a little, remembering how you had to assure the driver that Jeonghan wasn't actually crazy and that he had never thrown hot water at a child. The man didn't seem to believe you but that mattered very little. 

You were overflown with a sort of happiness that was new and also so very scary. 

That giddiness was something you always wanted to feel, but never actually got around to it. Your previous boyfriends, not that there were many of them, never really managed to get that much of a reaction out of you. That was not to say that you didn’t like them at all, because you did. You wouldn’t have stayed with them for a second too long if there were no feelings at all involved. 

Your feelings for them, however, were so small compared with the way you felt about Jeonghan. It was one date, just one night, and it felt as if your entire life had changed in a way you thought that there would be no coming back from. 

“You’re early,” someone said behind you. 

You felt as if your soul had just left your body when your entire body jumped at the new sound. You had been so lost in your thoughts that you failed to notice Seungkwan walking in and of course, Vernon right behind him. 

“Jesus, what the fuck” you ran your hands over your face before turning around to face him. 

Like most mornings, Seungkwan had a coffee in his hand and his phone in the other one. Come to think of it, you weren’t sure you had ever seen him without a coffee in his hands. You weren’t sure how someone could drink so much coffee and still function but then again, he was drinking iced americano most times and the coffee in there had so much water that you were sure most of the caffeine was deluded so…

“So…” he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

God, you hated the fact that he knew. Behind him, Vernon also had an expectant face. Of course, he too wanted to know. The problem was that you didn’t want either of them to know. It was something you wanted to keep to yourself, locked behind countless doors. And maybe, just maybe, if you were lucky enough you’d get to savor that feeling again if a second date with Jeonghan ever happened. 

“Do you want to go over something or we can just… you know, work?”

“Aaah” he complained, carefully setting his coffee on his desk before spinning your chair until you turned to him “You can’t leave me in the dark like this”

“Us, actually,” Vernon said, doing the best he could to hide his smile. 

You had always thought that Vernon was someone who was on the quieter side of the world. Mostly he kept to himself but when paired with Boo Seungkwan? The man could be just as troublesome as the other one. Pair that with the fact that both of them were good friends who often went out together and you’d get yourself a perfect mix for a gossip disaster. 

Seungkwan, as the one who is so friendly everyone just wants to spill their deepest secrets because he looks like someone who’d always offer crazy advice. 

Vernon, as the quiet one everyone wants to tell their secrets because he looks like someone who’d keep all of them just to himself. 

The one thing everyone seems to forget is the fact that those two are friends and they talk. Hopefully only amongst themselves but you weren’t willing to bet on it. There was no way you’d want people to know that you went out with the one person who you were working with. The celebrity, most of all. 

“I’m not saying a word” you just shook your head and moved away from him "We have a lot of work to do, so get going".

“You’re not saying a word about what exactly?” Jihoon said, coming up from behind Seungkwan.

The younger man looked somewhat in distress, his eyes wide going from you to Jihoon, then back to you again. It was at that moment you realized that he had never really crossed your mind, in any way while you were Jeonghan, ever. He wasn’t even an afterthought or anything of the sort. He wasn’t even your boss. Jihoon was no one. 

“I went on a date last night, that’s all”

It was as if you were the one entering the ice, the one who was being watched by so many eyes. Instead, you were one of the people watching. Your legs were shaking up and down, up and down, and there was no real way for you to stop it from happening. You felt as if your future was the one in line, not Jeonghan’s. 

To you, the only real consequence of him not making it was that that documentary would be canceled, for him it meant that everything he had worked for was lost and his last opportunity would never come. 

So, the reality of it was that you were nervous for him. Because you had finally gotten a real glimpse of Jeonghan and you knew how much it meant to him, all of it. He downplayed it, yes, but it was on everything he didn’t say. 

You could see it in his eyes whenever he mentioned figure skating, which was surprisingly very little when you didn’t have a camera on his face. It was clear in the practiced every single movement with such care, always aiming for precision, in an almost healthy way. 

Jeonghan downplayed it a lot but the sport meant everything to him. 

You sat in the bleachers, Seungkwan to your left and Vernon to your right. The three of you hadn’t gotten permission to be closer to the ice, or anywhere near really. Athlete after athlete performed, every single one of them doing so well that you felt your heart start to beat in a mismatched way. 

Your stomach was tied in knots, a lump on your throat as if you were about to spill your guts out at any given moment. You were too nervous and you hated it. Because if Jeonghan saw you, which you doubted, you wanted him to see someone who was confident and sure that he was going to do well, not someone who looked like she was about to faint. I will find you in the crow, he said the night before.

“You look like you’re the one about to be evaluated,” Seungkwan said.

He patted your hand, which unknowingly gripped your thigh as strongly as you possibly could, your knuckles turning white. 

“How did he do this for so many years?” you whispered

The question was more to yourself than to Seungkwan. 

In one of the many conversations, you had with Jeonghan, coming to mind. 

“The worst part of it all is being compared to other people,” he said, eyes distant, as if his mind was taking him to somewhere he didn’t want to be but at that moment he didn’t have a choice “Because what if I’m having a great day but the other isn’t? What if I had more chance to practice than others? What if I have an injury and the other doesn’t? We’re never on the same scale”

He looked troubled, eyes brows furrowed. You took his hand in yours, your fingers massaging his palm. His eyes looked a bit clearer when he turned to you but still, there was so much vulnerability in them. For a moment it was like seeing the same boy from the videos, someone who seemed powerful but was still so scared.

And ultimately that’s what it was. Fear. 

It was his last chance and he was scared if might fail. Jeonghan wasn’t too sure that he could live with himself if he did. 

“Truth is, there’s never going to be a scale. Ideally, it would be great but that is not the reality of it. I think your best should be enough, always. You’ve doing everything you can and we can all see it” you scooted closer to him on the couch, resting your shin on his shoulder “To me, you’re the best in the entire world, ever. It’s not much, I know, but I hope you know that I will unconditionally root for you”

Maybe it was unfair for Jeonghan to think like that, but for the first time in many years, he truly felt as if someone was by his side. You held his hand because you knew that he was scared, you cared and the reasons were yet unknown to him. Either way, he was going to hold onto it.

“I think that for people like us it sounds excruciating, but I bet he’s used to it” Seungkwan’s voice brought you back.

He hates it too, you wanted to say to choose to stay quiet. If there were things Jeonghan wanted to keep a secret, even if it was opposite to what you were supposed to do, you would keep your mouth shut. 

Even before the screams, you felt something swift in the air and it could only be described as Jeonghan. It was as if the air suddenly turned electric and his present, all on its own, larger than the small arena you were in. When you finally saw him, the air got stuck in your lungs.

On a daily basis, Jeonghan was an extremely handsome man. Almost inhuman and unfair to others around him. But that day, while he walked in, he was indescribable. Nothing about him was normal.

It was like seeing a work of art in motion as if a painting on display in a fancy museum had come to life and was walking among the mere mortals of that gymnasium.

Jeonghan wore blue, a color that you discovered was his signature. In every competition he participated in, even as a child, Jeonghan wore blue. Whether it was the entire outfit or just some detail. He always wore blue.

And then, like a moth drawn to a flame, Jeonghan's eyes met yours and he smiled. A different smile than the one you had seen him give so many times before. It was more natural, even sincere. You wanted to have smiled back and waved at him, but it was as if your entire body was frozen and any movement was impossible. And maybe you didn't want even more attention focused on yourself. The people sitting next to the three of you were whispering among themselves, so the last thing you wanted was for them to find out that that beautiful smile was directed at you.

"I don't know what's going on between you, but if someone smiled like that at me, right in the middle of the arena, with dozens of people watching, I'd get married immediately" Seungkwan didn't share the same feeling of remaining still and silent, but at least he was polite enough to whisper at your side.

A whimper escaped your mouth, but you chose not to say anything else. Because, in truth, you didn't even know what was happening between the two of you. There wasn't a conversation, a simple "yes, we're together", but whatever it was, however long it lasted, you were willing to enjoy every second of it.

Jeonghan positioned himself in the center of the ice, eyes closed, and took a deep breath, once, twice. The first chords of If I Could See You Again sounded through the scattered speakers and a new and completely unknown feeling spread throughout your body. Pride, perhaps.

One after another, Jeonghan executed the moves with precision, almost exactly like he had done in training. You couldn't tell if the differences were good or bad, which could take or add points to the total.

Almost at the end, with just a few seconds left until the end of the short program, Jeonghan lost his balance. Not to the point where he fell, but enough that he had to touch the ground to stop himself from falling. The three of them said, in unison, "shit", Seungkwan making a crying sound in the back of his throat.

With one last turn, the performance came to an end and the song ended. Even with the mistake, the crowd exploded in screams and applause. The famous rabbits and stuffed animals were thrown towards Jeonghan. Following the people around you, you also stood up, clapping your hands.

Your heart begged Jeonghan to look in your direction again, even for a second. Jeonghan raised his head and the smile he gave was that rehearsed one, that you had seen many times before and that wasn't even remotely real. The irritation at his mistake was clear in his eyes, but no one seemed to notice.

He bowed to the judges and the audience behind them, sliding across the ice to catch one of the swooping rabbits. Finally, he turned towards you, his eyes immediately meeting yours. Throwing all caution out the window, you said "you did well" without making any real sound and hoped he understood.

Despite the bad taste in his mouth, left by his complete inability to complete the performance without mistakes, Jeonghan felt as if the hand that was squeezing his heart loosened when he looked at you. He waved once more to the audience and skated to the exit. His coach was waiting for him. The man's face was a strange mixture of relief and frustration.

"You did well," he said, even though the words were the same as yours, the intention was completely different "It wasn't such a serious mistake, so it shouldn't have too many points deducted. If it goes well tomorrow, we can advance to the world championship"

Jeonghan nodded. He didn't need to hear that, he knew, better than anyone, what was at risk and what he needed to do.

A performance without errors, that's all he needed.

At the request of Jeonghan's coach, there was no filming after the performance.

"He can talk about everything tomorrow. Now he has to focus on the free program"

You had no arguments to argue and you didn't want to either. Filming was, by far, your last concern. All you wanted to know was if Jeonghan was okay. You spent hours debating whether to call him or not, and in the end, you decided not to.

The big truth was that you had no idea where the lines were, which ones you could cross, and which ones you should religiously stay behind.

Therefore, you chose to send a text. Are you okay? was all you ask. Then you sat on the bed, legs crossed, and waited.

You didn't know what to do if Jeonghan would respond, or if he was concentrating to the point of not going near his cell phone - which was probably a good idea.

Jeonghan had the fourth-best score among short programs. Seungkwan explained that despite the mistake and the near fall, Jeonghan had moves that were considered difficult to execute and those were worth more points and he was precise in almost all of them, which resulted in him having a good score.

"If he hadn't made any mistakes, it's possible he would have come first," he commented, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Seungkwan was easily a fan. He didn't make the slightest point of hiding it. You weren’t one at first, you knew the bare minimum about skating, but as time went on, as you got to know Jeonghan, it was completely inevitable.

"I'm sure he can do it" Seungkwan assured.

The phone vibrated at first and half a second later the screen lit up and Jeonghan's name shone on the screen, a photo of his smiling face above his name. You hadn't uploaded a photo when you saved his contact, but you were sure who the culprit was.

"When did you put a picture of yourself on my phone?"

Jeonghan felt relief wash over his body just hearing your voice, knowing you were smiling on the other side. He was able to take a deep breath for the first time since the morning.

He couldn't quite understand how he had gotten into that situation. He couldn't even pinpoint a catalyzing moment, the moment he realized something was changing. One moment you were just someone he had to work with and then you became someone he longed for. There was no middle ground. It was like someone flipped a switch in his mind and his heart, as he could finally just be. No strings attached, no fear.

With you, he was simply Jeonghan, the person. Not the athlete, not the guy who appeared on television now and then. He was just another guy, with a normal job, a normal life. There are many normal ones, Jeonghan, yours may be different from mine and that's okay, you said it once.

Maybe that was the moment he realized he was in love with you. Maybe perceived isn't the right word, but it was the moment he allowed himself to feel.

"It's an inconceivable fact that you don’t have a picture of me on your phone"

You laughed at it and he wished he could be close to you. He wanted all your moments, no matter how small and bad they were, to be engraved in his mind.

"My phone has a password," you said. Your tone wasn't reproachful, you weren’t irritated. If anything, you were happy to be talking to him, that he was in your life.

"Your birthday isn't a very clever password," he said, laughing.

You wanted to ask how he knew, but the answer was pretty obvious: Seungkwan.

"Are you okay?" you asked, tone cautious. "No pain?"

You hated having to change the subject so abruptly, hated that you were the one changing the light tone of the conversation. But you had to know, you had to ask.

It was a second, nothing more than that, that turned on a warning light in your head. Jeonghan was sitting, waiting for his score announcement, when his face quickly contorted. It was there and then it wasn't. But you had seen that scene before, you knew exactly what it meant.

"Yes, I am," he said, still trying to keep his tone light.

"Jeonghan..."

He wondered when you were able to understand that he was lying. It didn't really matter. Jeonghan liked knowing that you knew him well enough to know the difference. It was the first time anyone cared enough to understand.

Jeonghan realized that by your side, he experienced many firsts.

"A little discomfort, but I told the doctor" he was quick to say, knowing exactly what was coming next "I have ice on my foot right now. I can compete tomorrow, it won't be a problem"

He wasn't lying. He felt the discomfort after his body cooled down and told the doctor. Maybe it was in the hopes of having a fair reason to give up. He had never talked about being in pain so quickly.

"I'm not confident" he admitted "It's like I was 12 again, in my first competition. I think I was more confident before, to be honest"

He lay down on the bed, staring at the hotel ceiling. It was a simple beige ceiling, hideous, but somehow, it gave him some peace of mind.

“You did really well in your first competition,” you said, hoping that would somehow help him.

Jeonghan just hummed in response but stayed quiet. He had too much on his mind, you knew. It was the shadow of a possible new injury, the idea of not being well enough to perform the movements easily, and the fact of not being confident. Everything had turned into a big snowball and he no longer knew what to do with all these problems that seemed unsolvable.

"Do you remember that day, when you were training and everyone was around? Even Jihoon showed up to watch, which was quite strange by the way" Jeonghan said yes, quietly, which was enough for you to continue " You weren't confident that day either and asked everyone to leave"

"Except you," he said.

"Yes, except me" you smiled, the memory still fresh in your mind, as if it had happened the day before, and not months before "We were there for another half an hour and you didn't make a single mistake after getting it right. I know it's harder now, that you can't kick all those people out of there, but you can imagine that it's just the two of us again. I told you before and I can tell you as many times as you need to hear, I'm rooting for you unconditionally"

Jeonghan sighed, his body finally relaxing completely.

"You could be more eloquent in your cheering," he said, his tone mocking.

"If I'm too eloquent, we won’t use Vernon’s videos," you said laughing.

Your laugh, Jeonghan decided, was the eighth wonder of the world. It was his choice and the only right one among all the possibilities.

"You could at least smile"

"That I can do"

You sat in the same place as the day before, the only difference was that Seungkwan was on the left and Vernon was on the right. But you were in exactly the same place as you promised Jeonghan you would. Not that you exactly had much of a choice, it was assigned seats, but at least you were lucky to have the same ones.

Also like the previous day, Jeonghan was the last to compete. You watched them all carefully, trying your best to spot mistakes, but you could only see the obvious ones. When, for example, the athlete who was in second, taking into account only the short program scores, fell. You knew you shouldn't, but you couldn't contain your squeak of joy. Both Seungkwan and Vernon laughed, but you knew they shared the feeling.

Everyone wanted Jeonghan to do well, of course.

Exactly like before, the world seemed to stop when Jeonghan entered. And this time he knew exactly where to look, where you were in the crowd. When he smiled and you smiled back, he felt like he had made the right decision at some point. Because, somehow, you were there and everything seemed like it would work out.

And even if everything went wrong, Jeonghan felt like he would be okay too.

You wanted to scream with the rest of the audience when Jeonghan took the podium in second place. You knew it wasn't what he wanted, but you also knew I wanted it more than he expected. But, as you had told him on the phone, if I were more eloquent, all the footage would be lost.

You excused yourself from Seungkwan and walked to the other side, where it was empty. When the silver medal was finally placed around your neck, you clapped and screamed like the other girls next to you. Jeonghan's free program was perfect, the deductions made by the judges, according to Seungkwan, made no sense at all - but you were sure it was the fan version of him speaking than anything else.

If it weren't for the lowest score from the previous day, Jeonghan would have been on the podium in first place. However, when he finished his presentation, he seemed to care little whether he had gotten a good score or the position he would get. He seemed satisfied with his performance. His smile as he bowed to the audience was genuine and joyful.

"Will you allow me to be honest?" Joshua said beside you.

You brought a hand to your heart, your body moving involuntarily away from him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you"

You smiled and shook your head. There were a few times that your and Joshua's paths crossed. He was Jeonghan's childhood friend and would occasionally appear. You were so focused on Jeonghan and on his performance that you hadn't noticed that you hadn't seen Joshua on either day of the competition.

“Of course,” you said clearing your throat.

Joshua stuck his hands in his pants pockets, his eyes still focused on Jeonghan who was walking down the podium and returning to the locker room. He looked at the medal, a small smile on his face, almost completely covered by his long hair.

"I thought you would be a problem, but I'm glad I was wrong"

When Jeonghan was out of sight, you finally turned to Joshua. He seemed to apologize with his eyes.

“A problem,” you repeated, to make sure you weren’t hearing things.

He scratched his head and smiled.

"Yes, a problem. You have become a central point for Jeonghan in recent times, I thought you could be dangerous to reach the goal of the Olympics. But looking at him now, I think you were never a problem, but rather the solution"

It was impossible to contain your smile for the rest of the night. Everyone left together after the press conference, which for once was not a fiasco.

You and Jeonghan never told anyone else that you were together. You want to know for sure what it was. But when everyone arrived at the restaurant, the two of you, Seungkwan, Vernon, Joshua, and the coach, everyone just seemed to move in a way to let you and Jeonghan sit next to each other.

Every time he placed his hand on your leg, a new wave of heat spread throughout your body. You were sure that Jeoghan knew what he was knowing, that he knew the effect it had. When you looked at him, he was looking at you smiling. He looked like a naughty child, who knew he was up to no good and was just waiting for someone to show up and tell him off.

The coach seemed uncomfortable, and now and then he cleared his throat. He only knew the rumors about Jeonghan, he had never seen him with a woman before. Joshua acted as if it were just another day, something he was already used to. Seungkwan and Vernon exchanged looks and laughed, you were sure you would have to deal with them later. The teasing would be tireless and at this point, it would be impossible to stop rumors from spreading around the office.

The thought that others might know what was going on between you and Jeonghan didn't scare you, at least not the way you thought it would. You were afraid that people would think you were less professional because of this, and that you might lose credibility. But none of that seemed to matter.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy. You didn't care if they knew because, at the end of the day, it was nobody's business.

You had made a name for yourself and it had nothing to do with your personal life.

And Jeonghan... he made you feel things you had never felt before. Your other boyfriends, as much as you liked them, didn't compare. The feeling you had for them seemed insignificant in comparison.

You wanted, as absurd as it might seem, to take care of Jeonghan. Not that he needed it, you knew he could manage just fine on his own. You wanted to be someone he could share his problems with, someone he could count on. You wanted to be someone who could be a safe haven, someone he didn't need to hide from.

And you thought, to a certain extent, you had become that person.

And without realizing it, even if unintentionally, Jeonghan had become that person for you too. When you had nightmares you wanted to call him, to be comforted by his sweet voice. You liked it when he held your hand, just because he liked it. You liked that he sent texts at random moments that made you smile and that left everyone around you wondering what had happened.

You had never believed that I could fall in love, not like that. The mere thought of liking someone like that seemed impossible, at least to you. You still had memories of your mother crying, right after your father left. You had promised yourself that you would never let anyone approach you like that. But Jeonghan showed up and it was as if the thought had never crossed your mind.

After the initial shock of meeting Jeonghan, it was easy to understand why people fell in love with him.

Even at that moment, when he wasn't doing anything much, just talking to Joshua and Seungkwan, the infamous butterflies didn't seem to leave you.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked suddenly.

Everyone had already eaten and some were waiting for dessert. It felt wrong to get up.

"Are you tired?"

As if on cue, Jeonghan closed his eyes and yawned, making everyone laugh, even the coach. He grabbed your hand and pulled you lightly, his head slightly tilted towards the restaurant door.

"We're going now," he said as he took your hand and in his and guided you out of the restaurant.

The thing about Jeonghan is that you never wanted to let him go. Once he was around you never wanted him to leave. So when he offered to take you to your room and said yes when you invested him in, you almost giggled like a teenager. 

Is that how people felt when they liked someone? You knew the feeling of liking someone, yes, but it was different. A new feeling that was both exciting and scary. Your brain was partially inclined to run away and partly desperate to just stay. 

When liking someone you always think back to your mother and how she never really recovered after your father left. Of course, she smiled and had many happy moments over the years but there was this distinct glow in her eyes that simply vanished the second he left. 

You had always promised yourself that you would never give someone that much power over you and while you knew that you weren’t quite there yet with Jeonghan, you knew that there was a high chance of becoming something so great one day you’d have no control over. 

Without much thought, you took his hand on your and kissed his knuckles. 

"What 's that for?"

You shook your head, still keeping his hand close to your face, sighing when he cupped your cheeks.

"Nothing, I'm just really proud of you. You did so well today"

Jeonghan laughed, his eyes going top your eyes then to your lips then back to your eyes again. 

"I didn't win" he felt the need to remind you.

You turned your face to the side and planted a kiss on the palm of his hand.  

"It was your first time back, you did fantastically"

"Thank you for being there," he said, voice suddenly serious "It really meant a lot to me"

You stood on your tip toes and gave him a peck on the lips. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.” 

Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you go, not when he finally had you in his arms again, without anyone around. He pulled you closer to his body, his left hand at the base of your neck. He kissed your cheek, first the left one, then the right one, the tip of our nose until he finally reached your lips. 

At first, the kiss was sweet, tentative, kind even. The tip of his tongue touched your bottom lip. Suddenly it was like all hell had broken loose. It was him and you but everywhere. He ran his hand down your neck, to your back until he reached the hem of your shirt. Goosebumps erupted when you felt his skin over yours. 

His touch was so small, so insignificant, but it had such a great effect on you. You were out of breath partially from the kiss and partially from his touch. It was too little but also too much.

You pulled back from him and the look in his eyes was almost enough to bring you to your knees. You had never really seen the whole “his eyes darkened” thing but in that moment there was no better way to describe him. Jeonghan had a look in his eyes that you had never seen before, different from anything you had witnessed.

It took your breath away.

“I’m gonna” you pointed at the bathroom and quickly left him all alone in the room. 

You needed a moment, hell not even you knew why you needed a moment. Your heart felt like it was about to combust with how quickly it was beating. You just needed to gather yourself, and maybe calm down a little bit before you went back into the room. 

You twisted the faucet over the bathtub. A shower would have been faster, yes, but a little too fast. You didn’t wait for it to completely fill up to get in. You pulled your clothes off swiftly, leaving them on the floor beside the tub, before getting in.

Your mind was racing. Maybe a good way to describe it would be to say that there was a puppy with too much energy running from side to side in your head. 

Five minutes went by before you heard the door opening and Jeonghan walked him. To his merit, his eyes stayed on your face the entire time until he sat down by your side. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, shin resting on the edge of the tub. 

That was such a good question because you had no idea if there was something wrong. There isn’t, a voice said inside your mind. There was no reason for you to have run off like that. 

“I’m not used to this,” you said as you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers in his. His hand was so warm against your cold one “For a second it was too much”

“Did I…?” 

You started to shake your head before he could get another word out. 

“No, no, no” you sat down on the tub and moved as close to him as possible, spilling some water out in the process but Jeonghan didn’t seem to mind “I like you, really like you”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“In my world? Yes”

In your world, Jeonghan had managed to gather, all emotions made you want to run away. It was easier for you to deal with the bad, the sad, the hateful. The good part of it was hard because you had no real starting point for it. 

“Let me show you my world, then”

He didn’t really wait for your answer and he leaned over the edge and captured your lips in his. His touch was tender as he crawled your face, leaving a trail of kisses from your lips, down your neck, till your collarbone. He smiled against your skin when he hit a sensitive spot that made you go a little breathless as a small moan left your lips. 

Jeonghan ran the tip of his index finger across the valley of your breasts before cupping one of them in his hand. His thumb running over your hard nipples. Your moan was swallowed by his lips. 

Your entire body became hot under his touch. Melting, falling apart and he had barely even touched you at all. It was too much but not at all enough. 

Jeonghan kept exploring your body with his hand, running it down your stomach. Ever so slowly he moved his hand further down. 

A gasp left your lips when his finger found your clit, drawing small, slow, circles. You leaned forward, your forehead pressed on the crook of his neck. His skin was warm, hot even. You turned your head to the side slightly until your lips came in contact with the skin of his neck. You pressed small kisses on him, sucking his skin at the same time he applied more pressure against you. 

Jeonghan pulled back for a second, his focus solely on you, on your hooded eyes, the way your cheeks had turned a pretty shade of pink, how your lips were slightly parted, the way his name came out of your lips in the sweetest moan when his finger slipped over your folds, teasing your hole. 

He was so completely enamored by you, in ways he never thought to be possible. In his past relationships, he had always been careful. He didn’t want to get caught but also didn’t want to fall too much. His life only had one direction, one goal. When he was by your side he just wanted to slow down a little and enjoy every single second he could with you. 

Jeonghan wanted you to feel the same, this new sense of freedom that only came with these feelings, this desire to know every corner of someone’s soul. 

Your grip on Jeonghan’s arms thighed, your eyes watering as you let your head fall back. He pushed two fingers into you, slowly until he was knuckles deep. He sucked in a breath when your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him deeper as he curled his fingers and then slightly opened them. He rubbed the heel of his hand over your clit as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out.

He was hard inside his pants, the zipper of his jeans making minimal pressure, not anywhere close to what he needed but he was happy with what he got, with the day he saw you let all of your walls down around him. 

Jeonghan leaned forward a little, taking your lips into his, his tongue exploring your mouth as he moved his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing on your clit just as fast. 

“Jeonghan…” you cried his name, again and again as your breathing got shallow. 

You held his face in your hands, your thumb over his bottom lips, your eyes never leaving his as you became undone in front of him. Your legs quivering, your body arching until your chest was pressed against him, your loud moans filling the bathroom alongside the sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you at a relentless pace. 

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop” you asked

He had no intention of doing so, not until your body stopped shaking until you rode the last of your orgasm.

It was the most beautiful sight in the world. The seven wonders? Nothing compared to you.

Breathing heavily you leaned over Jeonghan, small spasms still making your body shake. You had boyfriends before, fucked all of them, some of them weren’t even your boyfriend and it had never felt like that, earth-shattering, live altering. You kissed him tenderly. 

God, you  were in love with the man.

You never thought of what it would be like to wake up in someone’s arms. It was never something you thought about too often when you had a boyfriend and it wasn’t something you craved. Being on your own, was something you were used to, whether it was on life or in your bed. Waking up to Jeonghan was something entirely new experience and one that you could never say that you didn’t like. 

His body was turned to yours, and his hand possessively held your thigh. Most of his face was covered by his hair and this time around you didn’t shy away from pushing it away from his face.

“This is not creepy at all,” Jeonghan said, his eyes still closed. 

You were startled for a second, your body involuntarily moving away from him and then settling back into him. This time your fingers weren't feather-like. You allowed yourself to fully touch him, to enjoy the feeling of his skin against yours.

“I can leave, if you want” 

You slightly rose from the bed, but it was far enough for Jeonghan. He tugged at your waist and pulled back on the bed and got on top of you.

“You’re not going anywhere”

Jeonghan pressed his lips over yours and you felt your body melt under him. Was there ever a better place in the world to be? You weren’t too sure if there was, but if such place even existed you didn’t want to know. 

“Tell me a secret,” he asked.

It was almost noon and you were still in bed with Jeonghan. He had asked for room service a couple of hours before and after eating both of you got back in bed, cuddling like two teenagers in love. 

“I used to have a crush on Jihoon,” you said with a laugh. 

There was a moment of silence, Jeonghan's body growing stiff by your side. That wasn't your intention at all, you wanted to bring a laugh out of him, and not make him uncomfortable. 

“I don't think that's something you say while in bed with a guy, naked” 

You laughed giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“You said to tell you a secret, that’s the only one I have left to give you,” you said pushing a strand of hair away from his forehead, smiling at him “When I met him, I didn’t know that he was going to be my boss, in fact I thought that he was regular employee like me. A couple of weeks later I found that that not only he was my boss but that he also had a long-term girlfriend, who is now engaged to”

Instead of focusing only on the crush part, which was one Jeonghan had no real desire to know about, he turned all of his attention to the first part of what you said, that you had no other secret to tell. 

Though he thought of it as impossible, as everyone has secrets, he knew that you were somehow telling him the truth.

“And now?” 

He propped his chin on your shoulder, his eyes shining as he waited for an answer. 

You found that running your hand through his hair and playing with it was a new hobby and one that both of you seemed to enjoy. Jeonghan had fallen asleep twice while your hand was on his head.

“Now he's just a boss who's made me take a project I didn't want” you ran your finger over his nose and booped the tip “But now I’m really glad I did. Maybe the best decision forced on me in years?”

You couldn’t help but laugh when Jeonghan placed several loud kisses all over your face.

“Your turn” 

You lightly pushed him away, just enough to see his face again. 

“I’m constantly terrified,” he said after a few minutes in silence “I keep seeing myself falling on the ice, like it happened last night. When I close my eyes, that’s the only thing I see”

It was something hard to admit, even to himself. Failing was like a shadow that daily dark cloud following him wherever he went. His mind and dreams were filled with images of him doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do, of what he was expected to do. 

Though he had been practicing hard, to exhaustion even, and did his best to put a great face, telling everyone just how confident he was, the truth was that Jeonghan wasn’t confident at all in himself. The chances of him making it were very low and though he did manage to get a good score and placed high on the podium, he wasn’t sure it would be enough to get him to the Olympics, much less to win it. 

“I’m not a sports person, right?” Jeonghan nodded enthusiastically and pushed him, making him laugh “But I think sometimes falling is inevitable. You know something I believe in? You”

Jeonghan couldn’t help but smile at the words. He felt as if the hand squeezing his heart had let go of him. He felt light.

“If there’s someone in this world that can go through all of this, injuries, surgeries, rehab and still get to compete on the same level as before. Maybe even better. I believe in you. I hope you can too”

Months Later

Jeonghan hissed as he slowly pulled the sock off. The usually cream skin was turning an ugly dark shade of purple, his ankle already twice as big as was supposed to be. He wanted to scream out in frustration. 

Of course, he had to get hurt again, of course, it had to be on the day before he was set to compete. 

It was like whoever was writing the script of his life enjoyed putting him through pain. Jeonghan finally felt as if his life was falling into place. He was feeling healthy, he felt as if every time he got on the ice he was getting better, improving his performance every single time. And then there was you, who came into his life seemingly like a storm and turned his world upside down in ways he wasn’t aware he needed. 

He had never felt more at ease, comfortable, than when he was with you. It had been a very long time since there was any need to shoot at his place but he always found himself calling you, or going to you. On days when you had to work late, you’d still come over and crawl into his bed, attaching yourself to him as if it was where you were supposed to be all along. You’d place a kiss on his spine and drift off to sleep without a word. Then, if there was no early schedule or practice, the two of you would just take turns cooking and talking about everything and nothing at all.

When he was with you, Jeonghan knew he had found the balance he had always looked for. It wasn’t the loud and reckless kind of relationship like the one he had before. With you Jeonghan felt at peace, home in many different ways. He liked to think that you felt the same way about him too.

Maybe he was being too greedy in wanting the creer, the legacy, as well as the love life but there was no way he was willing to let either one go, even if it meant that his blood would be covering the ice at the end of his performance. 

“How are you” the door to his shared room was suddenly flung open and Joshua walked in “feeling…?”

His friend's voice got lower as his eyes moved from Jeonghan’s face to his ankle, then back to his face again. Joshua moved without saying a word. He opened the mini bar and pulled whichever can was colder. 

“Does Bumzu know about this?”

It was weird to hear his coach’s name and he wasn’t too sure why. He said the name countless times since he was a teenager, he even said it earlier that day, but you had never said it. You’d always refer to him as just coach, even while directly talking to him. You never said his name and the man didn’t seem to mind it either. 

Jeonghan looked back at his foot and then at his ankle. He had no idea how it had gotten that bad. He felt a little pain after the eighteen-hour flight so as soon as he settled down in his room he put some ice on it, which had seemingly done the trick. It looked fine. No purple bruise, no swelling. His ankle looked fine and felt fine, so he left to attend the open ceremony and then headed to practice for the next two days. He felt nothing. He was fine. 

Until he, clearly, wasn’t.

“Does she know?”

Joshua pulled his leg up on the bed and put his feet up on two pillows. Jeonghan hissed again when he felt the ice against his skin and let his body fall back on the mattress.

“No, and she can’t know” he covered his eyes with his arm, sighing “I’ll tell Bumzu tomorrow”

“Don’t you think this should go into the documentary?” Joshua asked as he rolled the can from his ankle to the arch of his foot rhythmically “Don’t you think your girlfriend should know about this?”

Jeonghan played with the word on his tongue for a second. Girlfriend. Neither of you had ever labeled the relationship, too focused on the moment, on enjoying what you had and charging forward together. A label didn’t seem all too important. It was the kind of relationship that was always evolving but somehow staying the same. 

“If she finds out, she’ll ask me to stop” he paused finally looking at his friend “And if she does, I will”

He couldn’t help but think about your face. The way you smiled while holding his hands in yours sitting on his couch, just a few minutes before the two of you had to leave for the airport. Your eyes shone as you told him how much you believed in him, that you knew he wanted to win but it would be okay if he didn’t.

It was the kind of speech he heard many many times before in his life and he always hated it. It always seemed shallow, just empty words thrown in the wind. But when it came from you, when those words left your lips they felt genuine, he knew it wasn’t something you just said because it was what you thought he wanted to hear.

“I’ll scream the loudest this time,” you said laughing as you ran your fingertips over his eyebrows and then tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Jeonghan couldn’t help you lean into your touch. “I’ll be sitting away from Seungkwan and Vernon, so there really won’t be any way for me to ruin the footage”

The words I love you slipped out of Jeonghan’s mouth with ease, as they have always been there, like he was used to saying them. It was never been easy for him, even to his mother and sister. He loved them, of course he did. He showed it to them in all ways he could think of, but he never said. At least not as an adult.

Home, he had decided. Your eyes were his home. You were. 

Jeonghan was certain that he would remember that moment forever. The way you leaned forward, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The way you whispered I love you too. How you broke into a smile when you chastely kissed him and added so much it’s insane.

“Maybe she would be right” Joshua’s voice pulled him back to reality “Maybe you should stop. What if this gets bad enough that you can’t even walk anymore? What if…”

Jeonghan sat back up again. 

“Do you remember when we were kids and I told you that I wanted a gold medal, an Olympic gold medal?” he suddenly asked.

Joshua closed his eyes and sighed. Obviously, he remembered it but he wished Jeonghan didn’t. Most of all, he wished Jeonghan wouldn’t use a promise he made almost twenty years before. 

“Shua” Jeonghan pressed, his tone almost desperate. He felt bad, of course, but it was the only thing he had to stop Joshua. His last weapon to use. 

“I promised I would help in any way possible since we all knew I wasn’t that great of a skater”

It was a stupid promise, made by stupid boys but even as adults they both stuck to it, like it was some sort of pact.

“The best way to help is to keep it a secret for the next 3 days”

The thing about competitions is that they are exhausting but not just for the people actively competing but for those working on the sidelines as well. you had been following Jeonghan for months now, to all sorts of competitions, rehab, and just his life in general. 

In almost all of them he managed to make it to the podium and each time he looked brighter, and happier with his performance and the outcome. Though everything seemed to be going just fine, there was this itch in the back of your mind, telling you that there was something wrong with him. 

Jeonghan seemed to be taking good care of his body and he was periodically going to the doctor. You weren’t too sure if that was a good thing. On one hand, it was good because it meant that he was in constant care for a serious injury. But it could also mean that he was in pain and that itch on your brain was right. 

Whatever it was, Jeonghan wasn’t willing to share. He kept saying that he was fine and you were trying to believe him, you really were. But there was something in his eyes, in the way his body moved a little more stiff than usual. He had not looked at your direction once - which was something unusual.

The rational part of your brain said that it was just stress, crazy high amounts of it tugging at all of his nerves and muscles. It was his last chance so it was natural. He was an athlete focused on the competition ahead, of course, he would be a little different from what you were used to seeing. 

However, the irrational and insecure part of your brain told you that regretted saying that he loved you and didn’t know how to take it back. That didn’t make any sense at all. Jeonghan wasn’t the kind of person who just said things to please the people around him. He would rather keep quiet than say something he didn’t mean. You knew that. You knew him. If he said it, then he meant it. 

So why was he…

“Is he hurt again?” a familiar voice asked to your right. 

You had completely forgotten that Jihoon would attend as part of the documentary crew. He had mentioned it the last time you spoke on the phone a couple of weeks before, he also sent an e-mail the day before you left but it had completely escaped your mind.

You blinked at him, your brain not fully registering what he said. 

“What?” you asked.

Jihoon raised his eyebrows at you. He pointed at the rink where Jeonghan and the other skaters were warming up. His warm-up was different from what he usually did. He was just moving around, barely using his left foot. 

“He’s not using his foot a whole lot” Jihoon pointed out. 

He kept talking but his voice became just a distant sound as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, frantically searching for Joshua’s number. He was by the rink talking, in what you assume to be a hushed voice, with Bumzu. 

You bit your lips while the phone rang. Despair spread through your chest when Joshua pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed it to the coach. Both men visibly sighed. 

Tears started to well up in your eyes the moment Joshua’s tired voice greeted you.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Tell me what’s wrong with him, please” you begged.

Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around, making sure that you couldn’t see his expression. A terrible sign.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, everything is going according to plan”

“I may still be confused about some rules but my eyes work just fine, Joshua. Something is wrong, even Jihoon can see it”

You watched as he shook his head. 

“He’s just hiding his game. We prepare a new program, entirely different, he doesn’t want to show any of it or overwork himself during the warm-up”.

Alarms went off in your head and a whinny sound left your lips. You were well aware of the three pairs of eyes on you, judging the very uncharastically way, so unlike yourself, you were behaving but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

“Listen“ Joshua’s tone was stern, irritated. Not once had he sounded like that “This is a competition, the biggest one could ever take part in, as well as his last one ever. Yes, things are different this time around. I need you to understand that and not add any pressure or stress on him. Can you do that?”

He didn’t really give you a chance to reply.

“He’s here as an elite athlete and you’re here as the documentarist in charge of capturing every second of it. I highly suggest you start acting accordingly”

The line went mute. The pressure on your head, on your heart, was so big you let your body fall on the seat again. Joshua had never been quite as harsh on you, or at all. He had always been soft spoken, and polite. You doubted that even under the obvious stress of the moment he would act like that. Something was definitely wrong but he wasn’t willing to share, which meant that Jeonghan’s condition was bad. It also meant that he didn’t want you to know what was wrong, the extension of the problem.

Seungkwan was suddenly by your side, his hand on your shoulder. You pushed the single tear that rolled down away and stood up again. 

“Is everything okay?”

You just nodded and took the camera he had in his hands, adjusting the settings as an excuse to stay quiet long enough to be able to regain your ability to speak once more. You pushed the camera into Jihoon’s hand with a little more force than necessary, not really caring that he was your boss. His only reaction was to furrow his eyebrows at you one more time. 

“Make yourself useful, will you” it didn’t matter if he was there to just watch or not “Do not lose coach out of sight”

You turned your body to Seungkwan and Vernon.

“Seungkwan, you're with Joshua. Vernon and I will focus on Jeonghan” you pointed at the seats you were supposed to take, indicating that Jeonghan would have two different angles on him, Vernon simply nodded “Jeonghan’s condition is less than ideal so we need all of their reactions. Don’t miss anything, every blink is important”

Seungkwan called your name, his fingers gripping the sleeve of your shirt around your wrist. The concern was evident in his eyes. He wanted to ask, but wasn't sure if he should and you weren’t sure you could speak without breaking into tears. Whether his concern was for you or Jeonghan, you didn’t know. Perhaps a mix of both. 

“It’s our job, we should act accordingly”

Jeonghan finally let his body fall on the bed. It had been a long day and he had never felt more exhausted before in his life. But more than that, he was in pain. 

His first program had drained him. 

Every time he moved his foot it was as if a needle was being forced into his bones. Truth be told, Jeonghan wasn't even sure how he was still standing, how he still managed to walk straight without curving his body in pain. Skating was still a wonder in itself. The idea that both his mother and sister were watching from home maybe was something that helped push him forward. Maybe knowing that you were somewhere in the crowd also helped. 

He didn't dare to look for you, didn't dare to look in your direction but he could swear that he had heard you cheer every time he landed, every time he executed a new movement. Having you there and hearing your voice, even if it was a daydream of his crazy mind, had been enough to push him to the end of the program. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and reread your text for the hundredth time. He just stared at his phone for the better part of the day, like the small device held all the answers in the world. All it did though, was call you and that was something that he didn't allow himself to do. It was what he wanted the most, to hear your assuring voice, but he shouldn't. He couldn't. He was satisfied just looking at the black screen when suddenly it lit up with a notification and your name attached to it. 

"I will always be rooting for you! No matter what happens you'll always be number one" a second later another text followed "I love you"

Your message was sweet and loving. Jeonghan knew what it meant though. You didn't say anything, but it was clear that you knew something was wrong. Joshua had assured him that he didn't say anything to you but you weren't dumb.

He felt bad for keeping it a secret from you, for pushing you away, but in his mind, it was his only option. It turned out for the best that his coach and the federation didn't allow you and your team to follow him. Watching from the bleachers was all you could do. 

Even if their decision somehow benefited him, Jeonghan hated it. He hated the idea of everything that was going wrong. He hated that he was in pain, and once again, hated that the one person he wanted to comfort him was the one he was pushing away. In a way, he felt as if he was drowning and there was no one to even see that there was something off with him. 

Jeonghan heard the door opening but he didn't turn around in bed to see who it was, certain that it was only Joshua or maybe Bumzu coming in to check on him. He just turned further into his pillow, wishing for the day to be over soon. He couldn’t even think about his performance, which hadn’t been bad, to be honest. 

“So you get injured again and you decide that I shouldn’t know. That’s not very nice, Jeonghan”

He felt his heart in his mouth and he jumped on the bed, suddenly sitting on the middle of the mattress, grimacing when he felt a sharp pain up his leg.

“I wonder who you wanted to keep it a secret from, the team in charge of the documentary or me”

There you were, leaning on the door with your arms crossed over your chest, frowning at him. He could cry while looking at you and perhaps the tears were inevitable because his eyes were already burning.

“How are you here?” he managed to ask.

You gave him a sheepish smile and showed him the badge on your neck. A picture of Joshua greeted him while you took a step close to him and Sar by his side on the bed.

“I stole Joshua's badge and wore it flipped around, no one really bothered to check if it was really me”

You took Jeonghan's right hand into yours, intertwining your fingers with his. It was almost a natural movement at this point and you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward and rested his forehead on your shoulder.

Throughout the entire day you had thought about what you would do, how you'd approach him. There was no right way to do it. You had two options: scream at him and tell him to just stop, that it wasn't worth it, or you could just be there for him, offer him your support in any way you could. And while the idea of screaming was great, you knew that it wasn't going to do any good. In fact, it would probably only worsen the situation that was already bad.

“I don't know what to do,” he said, slightly turning his head towards your neck and taking a deep breath, allowing himself to be completely lost in your scent.

“How bad is it?” 

If Jeonghan wasn't willing to share it with you, decided that keeping it a secret was his only option it was probably bad but as moved away from you and pulled his pants up you enough to show the purple bruise on his ankle you realized that it was far worse than you could have imagined.

“Oh my God” you covered your mouth to stop yourself from saying anything else. 

You thought back at his program, how he executed all of it flawlessly, how he was in second place — only 0.2 behind the first place — how he had a real chance at winning despite all odds.

“It looks worse than it feels, but it doesn't feel good either”

You pushed his hair back, away from his face. His eyes were filled with unwashed tears, so desperate. Seeing him like that was like having someone squeeze your heart with all of their strength, as if trying to turn it into ashes.

“I'm so close to it and I can see it, it's right there. If I just…” he balled his hands into fists as tears finally ran down his face “I just need to do well, do what I've been practicing and I know I'll get it. But this…”

He punched his thigh, eyes closed.

You took his face into your hands, delicately making him look at you. You had no idea that your heart could break just by looking at someone, had no idea that you would feel that way for someone else in your life. It was a crazy thought, a realization that there was someone else in the world that could make you feel like that. 

When you told Jeonghan that you loved him it wasn't a lie. You didn't just threw those words around. Your heart was his and it was shattering for him.

You knew what it meant to him, all of it. Jeonghan might have made it seem as if he was just there to win and call it a day but you knew that it ran deeper than that. It was his last everything when it came down to it. His last competition, yes, but it was also his last everything. The last time he could say figure skater Yoon Jeonghan, after that he would just be retired. He hated the media a little too much to try and be one of those sports celebrities. 

“If they tape you up, give you enough painkillers, do you think you could do it?” your words were shaky as you spoke “Do you think it's possible?”

Jeonghan couldn't really believe his ears, in what you were saying to him. He was certain that you would tell him to stop, that it was okay, that he didn't have to go all the way to the end. It was a good run, you don't have to prove yourself to anyone, he could almost hear your voice in his mind. 

But right there, in front of him, you stood doing the exact opposite of what he expected.

“I thought you'd tell me to stop”

You kissed his face, close to his eyes, where his tears had stained his cheeks. The first one was quick, the second lingering a little bit more.

“I probably should, but it's not what you need” you kissed his forehead, nose, and lips “You're a force to be reckoned with, Jeonghan. If there's someone in the world that can compete in these conditions it's you”

Your heart was oddly at peace with everything. Sneaking into Jeonghan's room had been reckless but necessary, for both of you.

It was scary to imagine him getting injured again. You knew how hard he worked to be able to even get on the ice at all. You knew what it meant to him, so telling him that it was okay to just try felt natural and in some ways the only right option. 

Leaving his room had been hard. All you wanted to do was stay there with him, comforting him, in silence. You just wanted to be by his side but you knew that wasn't possible so you left after kissing him.

Maybe telling him to push through was a bad call, maybe telling him to quit was what was best for him but you tried to put yourself in his shoes. Had it been you, with your last chance ever, would you stop or would just just say fuck it and go down trying?

The answer was easy: you'd do the exact same.

“So…” Seungkwan asked as the four of you walked into the gymnasium “Is he okay?”

Seungkwan was a good friend and someone who worried about Jeonghan. He had been the first one to warm up to him and talk with him. Jeonghan liked him too, calling him Seungkwannie and even inviting him for dinner on occasion. 

“Not really,” you said as you finally found your seats “But he's going to compete anyway”

“Can he even do that?” Jihoon asked, “Should he do that?”

Your shoulders rose as you sighed.

“He's doing what he thinks is the best option for him”

The conversation ended just like that. There was nothing left to say. All any of you could do was sit and wait.

Jeonghan skated into the rink. His face was serious, no emotion on display. It was a mask of a man who was focused on what he had to do. He eyes the center of the rink, unblinking. 

His costume of choice was very simple, just a plain black blouse with silver and blue details on the sleeves and around his neck. His hair was tied back and away from his face. 

Looking at him one wouldn’t be able to say that he was in pain, that his ankle was twice its normal size, so close to just giving up. No one could tell that he was shaking. It was imperceptible to those on the bleachers that his heart was beating so fast, so loudly, that he could feel it in his ears. 

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Once. Twice. Again. He thought of you, with your hands clasped together in a silent prayer, he thought of his mother and sister watching him from home. He thought about himself two and a half years before, how hard he had worked to get to that rink one last time. He thought back to his ten years old self, when he first dreamt of the Olympics.

Winning was his only option. 

Jeonghan opened his eyes as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

The entire gymnasium erupted in loud cheers while Jeonghan thanked the audience, one side, then another. He bows his head a few times, catching one of the bunny dolls thrown at the rink in mid air. His smile is beautiful and large. He became pure happiness and you know that it couldn’t be any different.

Jeonghan managed to deliver his performance in complete perfection, no obvious mistakes were made. You were certain the judges would find something to deduce points but there was no way that he wouldn’t place first.

He waved at the crowd and somehow the cheering got even louder. It’s not his home country but it felt as if everyone in there was applauding him more than all of the athletes before him. And maybe that was really the case.

Jeonghan’s injury had been disclosed to the public right before the beginning of the competition and people love the idea of someone who can overcome whatever it is that stops them, an injury, a disease.

Jeonghan whirled around one more time, hand in the air waving, when face his contorted, his beautiful smile gone and he fell to his knees.

One second.

Two seconds.

Five seconds.

He didn’t move an inch, he didn’t get put but he also didn’t do much else. It was when you started to worry that there was something wrong. Even from that far back, you saw his arms shake, his eyes shut close, and his hand balled into fists. It became painfully obvious that there was something wrong.

The cheering and applause didn’t stop or got quieter. If anything, the volume only got louder. The crowd seemed to think that he was still thanking them, that he was overwhelmed with emotions, that he was exhausted after such a perfect performance.

He did the unthinkable, he managed to finish his performance flawlessly, lading jump, after jump, after jump. And he did, on the last performance of his career, at his last Olympics.

Jeonghan hadn’t announced it yet, but that was his last everything. After that day, he would leave behind his days in figure skating and would try to search for something else to do with his life. It was the last of him, ever, and he ended it on such a high note.

After more than a year of following him, talking to him, and understanding who Jeonghan was and what his stage persona was, you knew that it was not the emotions he was feeling. Although the man could be very humble at times, he wasn’t to that extent. He wouldn’t be on his knees for a full minute.

That’s when you saw coach run to the ice, two paramedics right behind him.

You rush down the bleachers, trying to see what’s happening on the ice while trying not to fall face first. The coach talked with Jeonghan, and whatever the older man said got a reply and Jeonghan shook his head. You didn’t know what he’s saying.

I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. I’m not in pain. I’m just tired.

Those are the words you wished he said, on just a collection of them

Vernon took the camera and did a run down of the crowd before turning it to Jeonghan, still on his knees. You didn’t know what to do. The two of them were right behind you, Vernon and Seungkwan, their footsteps way too loud for you to notice that the crowd had finally stopped cheering, finally noticing that the situation wasn’t as good as they first expected it to be.

Your eyes never really left Jeonghan. The only thought going through your mind at that moment was to get to him as fast as possible, to hold his hand. That simple action wouldn’t mean much, you knew that, and you would do it more for yourself than for him. But you liked to think that in such a moment, he would want you by his side.

The paramedics raised Jeonghan, his arms around their shoulders while they carried him out of the ring. One of his feet slides with ease, while he holds the other one up in a weird position, slightly tilted back.

That’s when you knew. The issue on his ankle. He took it too far with the performance and practices, landing on it time and time again.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around. You pressed your hand on the lens of Vernon’s camera pushing it until he finally lowered it.

“Stop filming, right now” it wasn’t a request, your voice wasn’t kind. It was an order, one you needed him to follow “From now on, nothing gets filmed”

Vernon looked confused, his eyes darting to Seungkwan, as if asking for help in a way.

“But it’s our job,” he said.

You shook your head.

“Our job, what we needed to film, ended the second he landed that jump. Now it’s not the time to record him”

Seungkwan understands what you’re saying, he too pressed a hand on Vernon’s camera, pushing it even further down, shaking his head and his friends looked at him worried.

You turned away from them, eyes immediately falling on Jeonghan.

For a moment you thought that they wouldn't let you through. Security had no idea of who you were. So why would they let a strange woman be anywhere near the athlete? But they did let you through. You didn’t know how, you didn't know why, but you also didn’t dare to question.

They just moved out of the way, making a path for you. You followed the coach back to the locker rooms, ignoring the fact that you shouldn’t be there, not in the male one anyway.

You finally reached Jeonghan. His face was pale, paler than usual, his lips were turning purple.

“Jeonghan” his name leaves your lips in a breath.

He reached a hand for you once the paramedics laid him down on a stretcher.

“Baby,” he said, voice barely above a whisper “I did it. Did you see it?”

You pushed his hair away from his forehead, surprised with his cold sweat.

“You did it, you were fantastic”

He smiled at you, his eyes not really focusing on you or on anything else.

“I think I broke something,” he said, voice low “I don’t know, it just hurts. A lot”

You looked at his coach, the man didn’t know either, but his eyes were focused on Jeonghan's ankle. Your eyes move to the paramedic, who as carefully as possible trying to remove his skates.

The doctor that accompanied Jeonghan since the surgery finally approached him. The man too looked as white as a candle.

Jeonghan had finally taken it too far. 

“You cut your hair, '' you said, as you tucked your legs under your thighs, sitting comfortably on the fluff carpet in Jeonghan’s living room. 

Seungkwan stood behind you and by his side was Vernon. It was the place where it all started, so it seemed fitting that it also ended there. 

Jeonghan nodded, running his hand through the loose strands. You drummed your fingers over your thighs, thinking about how just a couple of hours before you were playing with his hair while he had his head on your belly because your stomach is being noisy and I want to sleep when you told him he could move, he just hugged your waist tighter rubbing his face on your skin nope.

“I thought it would be a good change” he pouted a little, unconsciously “I still need to get used to it.”

Why did you think it would be a good change?”

He narrowed his eyes for a second. He had that conversation with you before. For a moment he forgot that the version of you he talked with was his girlfriend, not the documentarist sitting in front of him. 

“I started to grow my hair after the whole incident with the press” he made a dismissive gesture with his hand “I think I sort of wanted to hide from them and the hair helped a lot. In a way, I think a new haircut symbolizes a new start? You know, now that I’m no longer an athlete”

You nodded, smiling at him. It always took his breath away, your smile. He loved the way you had been constantly smiling around him, the frown that seemed to have a permanent stay between your eyebrows when you first met was nowhere in sight.

“How does it feel, being retired?”

“If you asked me that four years ago, I’d say that it sounded like my words nightmare. But now after so many injuries and surgeries, it felt like the timing was right. If you think about it, the way it ended for me was pretty epic”

Jeonghan matched your smile as the memories started to flood his mind. The way he almost blacked out due to the pain in his ankle, the way the crowd screamed so loudly and he refused to believe that it was because of him, at least not until Bumzu came back to his side, his eyes red with unshed tears.

“You fucking idiot of a human, you did it”

You had kissed his temple multiple times, telling him how brave he was, how strong he was. "Most people would have walked away before even getting on the rink” you had said later that night after all of you had finally gotten back from the hospital. Jeonghan was prohibited from using his foot and needed to have surgery once again after the worst part of the swelling subsided. 

He remembers refusing to be taken away to get his ankle checked until he saw with his own eyes that he had won. He was carried out by Bumzu and Joshua despite the doctor’s cries that he should be taken to the hospital. You followed the three of them close behind. 

Jeonghan smiled at the screen hanging from the roof. His name stood at the top of the list, in big letters, the number one attached to it. 

As he stood on the podium, gold medal around his neck, Jeonghan saw you clamming and screaming, a huge smile on your face as tears ran down your cheeks. He had finally gotten his wish, to see you being as eloquent as possible, cheering for him. 

“Most people would agree with you”

“I feel bad about making my family worry though. But they understand, I think”

His sister has screamed at him over the phone, angry that he asked them not to go watch him — mostly because he was scared to have them there while he failed — that he never told them about his injuries. But also happy for him. Truthfully he didn’t understand some of what she said, talking while crying was not her forte. 

You looked back at Seungkwan over your shoulder and both of you nodded. Jeonghan watched as you closed the small notebook in your hands and put it aside. 

“This is the last question of this documentary, so make your answer a good one, okay?” you said teasingly “Now that you can’t skate again, what are your plans for the future?”

Saying that Jeonghan wouldn’t be able to skate again was maybe a little exaggeration. Sure, there was no way he’d ever be able to compete again — nor did he wanted to —, but maybe after he was all healed he could do it again just for fun. That wasn’t something he was going to say directly at you. You had gotten worried after his new injury that even conversations about past competitions made you shiver, it had gotten so bad that you had nightmares about him getting hurt again and in those his end was never quite as good or epic as the one he actually got. So Jeonghan thought that it was for the best to not talk about it, at least for the time being while he still hadn’t been cleared by his doctor.

“With my career?” he bit his lip, truly thinking about it “For now, nothing. I’ve been competing for almost twenty years, in the rink for about 22 years, I think I deserve to stop and just not do anything for a while. In my personal life, I want to spend some time with my family, which is something that I always skipped because practice was just more important. I haven’t spent a birthday with them in years”

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes on you. 

“I have a girlfriend, right. And she had this little notebook, I think she might be a little obsessed with notebooks and pens, and everything stationary related” he whispered the last part making you roll your eyes “She writes in those places she wants to go to. So, if I can convince her to take a few vacation days, I want to take her to those places”

“You suck,” you said.

“You didn’t seem to…”

Seungkwan took a step forward and blocked the view of the camera, his eyes wide.

“Okay, that’s a wrap everyone! Thank you!”

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