Archive of Our Own ^beta

regret.

it starts as a pressure in your stomach early in the day. then, as you bring yourself to look at the man who lays on top of you, you feel the pressure raise up into your chest, leaving a painful trail behind, until it settles into your throat. you find it hard to gulp, or to breathe. the sun is still low in the sky, it is barely morning. san sleeps soundly on top of you, arms hooked underneath you and hugging your body close to him as he uses your belly as a pillow. the rest of his body rests between your legs, his feet hovering over the ground as they do not fit on the couch.

an uneasy feeling sets in once again when your eyes fall on your phone that lays near your head. it is one of your phobias, falling asleep near any electronics. seems like you were really exhausted after last night's activities. you should be happy. you aren't. the longer you stay awake, and the more your vision clears up, as well as your brain, you start feeling disgusted with yourself. did you use choi san? did you do precisely what melanie was trying to do? were you a fucking hypocrite? it is only five o'clock, yet your phone is littered with messages and missed calls that none of you heard. one from seonghwa asking about where san is, and one from yeosang eager to try a new hair color. on top of the screen, one from manager sihun.

manager sihun: stop by my office before your clock in, please.

"mmh..." vibrations travel through your stomach, and san rubs his cheek against your exposed skin.

"san?" you call as your hand settles on top of his head, debating whether to push him away or to let him stay. he hums again, and hugs your body closer to him. you can barely breathe. "san."

"no..." he mumbles. "sleepy."

you don't have it in you to push him away. not yet, at least. so you settle for patting his head, and you hear him exhale with content. "we have to go to work soon."

"mhm."

seeing that he has no intention of moving, you bring the phone back into your face. your body still seems to be sleeping, because the phone slips from your hand and lands on your face. the soft yelp that leaves your lips makes san's head jerk up, sleepy eyelids peeling open and worried orbs gazing upon you.

"are you oka— did you just drop the phone on your face?"

"shut up." you're annoyed with yourself first, and when you hear him chuckle, he falls into the category as well. "you're in no position to laugh."

he doesn't reply, instead unhooks his arms only to climb up and rest his head on your shoulder. a frown appears on his pretty face upon seeing his group members' names on your phone. "why are they texting you?"

"san." you warn, not wanting to deal with his jealousy this early.

"i'm just wondering... they could've texted me."

"who says they didn't?" you simply reply, then enter the messages so you can reply to them.

he only makes a sound that lets you know he is displeased, and continues peeking at your screen. when you enter the conversation with seonghwa, the man pinches your side, causing you to yelp and drop the phone on your face once again. "oops."

"san!" you are now irritated. "what is the matter with you?"

"you casually talk to seonghwa in your free time?" he can't help the pout on his lips when he sees previous messages.

"you pinched me because you don't like that i have to communicate with your group member because you sometimes vanish without a trace or start acting like a childish fool?"

"ouch." he knows you don't mean it. do you? "i just... i don't know. you're mine, i don't like sharing you with—"

"i'm going to stop you right there, san." it is too early. god, it is way too early. "i am not yours. i am nobody's. there is nothing to share. do you hear yourself right now? i am still yeosang's assistant, but i can also help anyone else at any time. the members can reach out to me whenever they feel like it, whether you or me like it or not."

it shuts him up. he is currently very confused by your behaviour. he knows he can be difficult. but you're acting... distant. as if last night didn't happen. as if you let him sleep over to shut him up and want him out as soon as possible. "are we... okay?"

his voice trembles as he asks, and you peel your gaze away from the screen, only to find him sitting up and with glossy eyes. how are you supposed to answer, when you don't even know?

"we'll talk when we're both wide awake. i am not a morning person."

in san's book, that answer means no. you're not okay. something shifted during the night, and san doesn't know what. he is determined to find out, but not now. all he can do is further irritate you, and he doesn't know if he can handle more cold looks which you keep gracing him with since he opened his eyes. "okay."

"did you drive here or—"

"i'll walk."

"i can drive you," you offer, but san is already up and picking his clothes from the floor. he doesn't give you an opportunity to gawk, he is fully clothed again, with the hood over his head and covering his face. "san."

"no, it's fine. i'll use the fresh air."

"sannie—"

"no." he surprises you with the tone, as well as himself. it is enough to make you go silent. he can't help but feel as if he worsened the situation, so he opts for leaving without saying anything else, accidentally slamming the door shut on the way out. the glasses stay on the couch, messy from last night.

𓆩⟡𓆪

in sihun's office, through the windows that replace hallway walls in the kq building, you see a familiar red head. like on cue, she turns around, flashing you a grin that cannot mean anything good.

"good morning," you do your part as you enter, politely greeting the two.

"have a seat." sihun doesn't return the greeting. asshole. "melanie, please pull the blinds on the windows."

"i was just there, i could've—" you begin, yet your sentence gets interrupted by the doors opening and closing just as you sit down. a pair of brown eyes find yours, and the confused expression is replaced by a worried one. "sa— mr choi."

"sihun?" he questions.

he still wears the hoodie you took off him last night. his cheeks are a pretty pink shade as well. before you allow your mind to remember last night's events and betray you right here and now, you look at manager sihun. he is already looking at you, disapprovingly.

then, he simply announces: "the two of you are fucking."

"what?!" you both question at the same time.

melanie's face drops as she stands near the blinds. that isn't why she thought she was here. as seconds of silence pass by, her face reddens. the grip on the fabric intensifies, threatening to rip the material to shreds.

"i can assure you—" you begin. and get interrupted.

"i am not blind. you two fucked, had a fight, and you asked me to switch pairs. now, i don't know if you are back at it, and i don't care. what i care about is that it stops, right now. y/n, melanie, you are both fired. i don't want you near the kq artists, staff, or the building. you have one hour to collect your belongings and disappear."

your eyes search for san, as if he can do anything about it. he simply furrows his brows. he thinks. but not fast enough.

"melanie, i saw the pictures, and videos. san has decided not to take any legal action, and while i disagree, he has threatened to do something stupid if i get involved. the least i can do is fire you." the man rummages through the drawers of the desk, and soon enough, a small stack of papers awaits the two of you, each one with a pen on top. "and y/n..."

"sihun..." san's voice is small, unsure. he doesn't even know what to say or do. he stands aside, hands itching to hold you.

"i am so disappointed." it stabs you in the chest. "i knew you were a fan. i hired you because i thought i can't judge you based on that. turns out, i was wrong. your plan was to get involved with one of them all along. and i blame myself for even thinking that something good could come out of you."

hands shake as they struggle to sign the papers, words blurring before your eyes. the cursive letters are wobbly and sliding off the straight line where they are supposed to sit. melanie's voice is distant. you feel her moving her arms around next to you, trying to get herself out of the situation. there is no getting out. there is nothing left for you here.

so you stand up. legs all jelly, vision limited, and chest aching. you pass by san, pushing him with your shoulder by accident. his scent follows you down the hallways, to your locker, all the way to the doors of the building. you pass by the members, and if they greet you, you don't hear it. you don't have the strength to look at the building just one more time. you don't have it in you. yet your body still turns, elbow suffering someone's deathly grip. everything is silent, unmoving, distant. except him.

san didn't think further than just to grab you. he doesn't know what to say. whatever words he can make up, he knows they aren't enough to make you stay. because you were right. you were right all along, and san still went ahead and ruined what you built for yourself.

"i'm sorry." is all he can say.

whatever you wished to say couldn't have hurt more than what you did next: freeing yourself from his grip, placing a firm palm to his chest, pushing him away, and looking at him with something san could only describe as hatred and disappointment. then, you spoke. "i don't wish to see you ever again."

and san's barely healed heart shatters all over again, the loose strings holding it together snapping with each step you take towards the exit.

𓆩⟡𓆪

choi san has become one with his bed. it's raising park seonghwa's blood pressure, seeing the crumbs and empty cans all over the room. since when does san drink red bull? he doesn't move when the older man opens the blinds and window, allowing the fresh air to enter the room. seonghwa can't help the scoff when he sees san's body submerged under the blankets head to toe.

"san." he calls.

"i'm not hungry." a muffled voice comes beneath the blankets.

seonghwa approaches the bed, stepping on a can on the way and almost getting a heart attack. "i don't care. you are getting up and— is that a phone? give me that."

the light beneath the blanket disappears, and while san tries to hide the device under the pillow, seonghwa is quick to reveal him as the blanket falls on the bottom of the bed.

"are you texting her?"

"no."

"give me your phone." fuck, seonghwa forgets how strong san is. luckily, san's drowsiness and hunger helps him this time, and seonghwa manages to rip the phone out of his fingers and sits on his stomach, trapping both his arms between his thighs as well so he can't move. "fucking idiot."

"if someone walks in right now and sees you like this, we'll have some uncomfortable explaining to do and a lot of teasing to endure."

seonghwa doesn't pay any mind to what san is saying. his fingers hurriedly type in the password, and enter the messages. and surely enough, san has been spamming you with messages again. you don't respond. you are holding onto the promise you gave him after the first few days san had started messaging you after you left.

choi san: please, i can't take it

choi san: how do i live without you?

y/n: i don't exist for you anymore, mr choi. it's easy to live without something that doesn't exist in the first place.

choi san: you expect me to act as if you never happened? as if we never happened?

y/n: we didn't happen. a mistake happened.

choi san: how can you say that? how can you call it a mistake? how can you call me a mistake?

y/n: you are a mistake, choi san. and i will be friends with melanie before i consider you anything other than that. i promise you right here and now that i'll treat all of this as a very bad dream i barely woke up from. from the moment i met you to the moment i last saw you. as if you never happened. as if you're just an idol i had a weird dream about.

choi san: you can't do that. you know you can't.

choi san: y/n?

choi san: please.

choi san: my heart hurts.

this user has blocked you.

choi san: i can't do this on my own.!message failed to send!

seonghwa would be lying if he said that his heart didn't ache as well. you were harsh. but he also knew that it was your way of keeping yourself in control as well. at least that's what he would do were he in your place. hundreds of messages littered the cracked screen of the phone, each failed to send due to san being blocked by you. it's been two months since everything happened, and san has refrained from texting and calling after the first few weeks. now, for reasons unknown to seonghwa, he has started again. sending you links of songs, lyrics, even writing his own. were it a different situation, this would've been romantic.

"why are you texting her again after a month of not doing it?"

"because i'm miserable."

the man on top can't help but roll his eyes. your profile picture is missing from san's phone, but not from seonghwa's. it means that you still have him unblocked. san can't know. it surprises him that san hasn't thought of stealing his member's phones in hopes of reaching you.

"can i have my phone back, please?"

"not yet." seonghwa then enters the calls. dozens of them. then, social media. every account you have has him blocked, from instagram to tiktok. "i still don't understand who told sihun. you guys had just kissed that night, how did he...?"

"leave it." the younger male starts squirming, hoping to get out of the death grip of seonghwa's thighs. "look, if you give me my phone back, i'll clean the room. i promise."

san is hiding something. seonghwa simply needs to find out what. "just saying, he found out so quickly."

"yeah, well." the dismissive tone, eyes that struggle to hold eye—contact, and teeth that tug on the bottom lip are more than enough indicators for seonghwa to know that something else is going on.

"do you care about me?" the man suddenly asks.

san's brows furrow with confusion. "what?"

"after all we've been through, all these years. do you care about me?" he presses further.

"i do." the younger man says, though tone unsure. not because he doesn't care about his older brother, but because he doesn't know where this is headed. "...why?"

"then you'll tell me what happened." when san tries avoiding his gaze once again, seonghwa wastes no time in grabbing his face and pressing his fingers into san's plush cheeks, causing his lips to funnily stick out in a pout. like they do every day on their own. "san. i am sick and tired. speak, now."

a second passes. then two, and three. it turns into half a minute of seonghwa's piercing gaze for san to finally succumb. tears swell in his eyes, and he gulps. "i told him."

"you what?"

"i—"

"why the hell would you do that to her? to yourself?" seonghwa fails to find a valid reason behind san's actions. he feels his blood pressure rising once again, and soon enough, he might faint.

"i thought—" he gulps again, trying to swallow the lump of guilt in his throat. "i thought i was doing good. that sihun would understand, and it would be easier. and even if she got fired, that it wouldn't be a big deal because we wouldn't have to hide around staff and she would have time to— don't give me that look!"

"what look?!"

"like i am a fucking fool! i know it, i don't need to hear it!"

"i cannot believe you would sabotage everything like that." the older man runs his fingers through his hair, then stands up, throwing the phone on the bed. "you think, but you only think about yourself!"

san's heart drops. "how can you say that?"

"all you've done is get her into trouble. from the moment she became your assistant until the moment she left the building. and you are still risking a restraining order on both ends! you've done enough, the least you can do right now is let her go for good."

"but—"

"no fixing what you've done."

"but—"

"no going back."

"hwa—"

"and no more calls and texts."

"i love her."

seonghwa facepalms himself. audibly. "how can you love somebody you only kissed and fucked once?! do you know her? what's her favourite colour? where does she spend her free time? what does she like to eat or drink? does she have anyone? how did you allow yourself for a silly little crush to become something so huge? to ruin not one, but almost two jobs? i like y/n, and i miss her, i really do, she has done so much for us. but so much has happened in such a short time, and i don't think that's healthy. maybe this is for the best."

san stops listening, even though seonghwa is still talking. he makes his way out of the room, down the hallways, and into the living room, in hopes of escaping the obnoxious voice and the person it belongs to that follows him for days now.

"choi san, get back here."

"what's going on? oh, san." yeosang is surprised to see his younger brother in the living room. "how are you?"

"don't talk to me." san still can't bear to see him.

"yeosang didn't do anything, stop acting like—"

"get off my fucking back, all of you!" it is a rare occasion that san raises his voice. it shuts the two up for a few moments, until hongjoong enters the chaos himself. he corners san, until the man is squished in the corner of the living room and hongjoong's back shields him from seonghwa and yeosang. usually, san would sulk under his gaze. now? he feels overstimulated. irritated. angry.

angry because seonghwa is right. not because san doesn't know anything about you, but because he sabotaged something that could've been the best thing that has ever happened to him. then, in his mind, he realizes seonghwa is right once again. he only thinks about himself. would it be the best thing that ever happened to you, as well?

"you pushed her away, yet you stand here, with that audacity. scowling at yeosang, yelling at seonghwa, ignoring the rest of us, acting like a dickhead on all shows and interviews, making fans wonder what the fuck has gotten into you. she rejected you so many times, yet you kept pushing, and pushing, until she gave in, and regretted it immediately after. you wanted to guilt trip her into staying with you. you wanted her to get fired so that you could have her all to yourself. you are a bad person, san. no doesn't mean keep trying. no means no. and now you stand here, acting a victim, still torturing her, day after day, while your career is decaying because you refuse to get your spoiled ass up and come into the recording booth for half an hour and do your part. not only did you cost us a hard working assistant and a manager who was easy going, you are going to cost us this comeback. get your shit together, or so help me, i'll do it for you."

if san's eyes become any wider, his eyeballs could pop out. hongjoong's neck vein is prominent, and his hand has somewhere in the middle of the monologue found its place on san's t—shirt, scrunching up the material.

as if he wasn't scary enough, the older male leans in, face close to san, and eyes staring into his soul while he grits his teeth. "and i really," his tone drops a few octaves, "really," and turns into a whisper, "don't want to do that."

𓆩⟡𓆪

"everyone, meet leah and chris. they are our newest addition, and will replace the previous assistants. lets wish them luck on their first day." manager sihun introduces the pair.

leah ends up being san's assistant. he isn't thrilled. not because she doesn't do a good job, but because she is the spitting image of you. and because of that, he finds comfort in her rather quickly, treating her as your actual replacement. it doesn't completely fill the void in his heart, but it helps.

"do you have a sister?" he questions one day as she hands him the coffee he requested. he sits in the makeup room, along with seonghwa, waiting for their turn to film the parts of the music video. the older man glares at him from the side, also aware of the uncanny resemblance. sihun did this on purpose, surely. "or a cousin...?"

leah laughs. "everybody has a cousin, sannie."

"but a sister?" he presses further. i mean, he would know if you had a sister. would he? was seonghwa right once again about san not actually knowing you?

"uh, leah?" seonghwa interrupts before she can answer, and san really wishes to smack him. "that's mr choi to you."

the young woman is taken aback, and her cheeks turn bright red. "i— but—"

"that's fine. i told her it's okay." the younger man defends her.

out of words, the older male decides he has heard enough. he leaves the two alone in the makeup room, shutting the door louder than he wished on the way out.

"well...?" san is stubborn.

"i don't have a sister." her voice is no longer cheerful. damn seonghwa. "do you need anything else?"

"i need you to stop taking what he said to your heart. we had a bad experience with the previous assistant, and he just didn't want the same thing to happen again. he is setting boundaries, at least trying to. it'll pass."

it brings a smile back to her lips, and san smiles as well. it's odd how even her smile and laugh are just like yours. are the deities punishing him?

he hasn't texted you once since the day hongjoong stepped in. as much as his fingers itch to tap on your name every time he enters the texting app, he doesn't do it. it has become clear that it is impacting the career he worked so hard to build for himself. if it wasn't meant to be, it wasn't. this time he won't make the same mistake. but what kind of a cruel joke is it, bringing your long lost twin to be his personal assistant? san hates how his heart flutters every time she is near him. it feels as if he is betraying you. yet, he still can't help the butterflies that attack his stomach when she moves a stray hair out of his eyes, fixes his collar, or does his tie. was he truly that weak? was it a curse? falling for his assistants like this?

is he in for another heartbreak?

𓆩⟡𓆪

choi san: hey :)

leah green: hi sannie

leah green: can i help you somehow? it's quite late

choi san: did i wake you up? i couldn't sleep

leah green: no, but even if you did, don't worry! do you need someone to talk to so you can fall asleep? i'm lazy to text anyway.

choi san: you'd do that?

leah green: of course! that's why i'm here :)

choi san: you know me so well!

leah green: well, three months of working for you, it's time i do. :P

choi san spares no moment before his finger taps the call icon on the screen. he lays on his bed, sprawled out like a starfish, while his eyes are fixed on the ceiling that needs a painting job. mingi loves laying in his bed, throwing that stupid stress ball of his against the ceiling and catching it. the circular spots of dirt make san's eye twitch.

"hi san!" leah's voice is cheerful on the other side. san can't help the smile on his lips upon hearing her. he glances at the clock on the wall, which reads three in the morning.

"hi, leah." he greets. "why are you even awake at this hour?"

"oh, i'm watching a movie."

"what movie?" he tosses and turns, until he settles for laying on his stomach with legs hanging off the bed and a pillow under his chin for support. "is it a cheesy one? a chick flick?"

"uh..." she trails. "no..."

san squints his eyes, as if she can see him. "leah. are you watching cheesy romances with all the cliché's ticked off the list?"

"you know what? yeah. yeah i am." she gives in. but her tone doesn't convince san.

"really? what's the name?"

"nunya."

"oh, how clever." he rolls his eyes. "come on, i won't tease you."

"lies."

"then tell me and we'll see. if i tease you, you can call me the worst boss in the world." he offers.

leah stays silent for a bit. he can hear some of the dialogue in the background, but can't really make it out. until a sigh and a moan meet his ears, and they turn burning red. he can hear the young woman fidgeting with the remote, lowering the volume. "uh... yeah."

"leah green, are you watching p—o—r—n—o—g—r—a—p—h—y?" he spells it out quietly, but not before glancing at the doors to make sure nobody is listening. then, he can't help the chuckle that leaves his lips. "you dirty girl."

"what?! no!" she defends herself. "it's— it's a movie!"

"what movie, leah?"

"oh my god." he can almost hear her face palm herself. "it's fifty shades, god. there."

"kinky." he simply teases. "you into that stuff?"

"you called me to talk about kinks, san?"

"most certainly not. you started it, now i'm intrigued."

a gasp of disbelief is heard on the other side. "oh, you— you—!"

"i'm messing with you. in all seriousness, an erotic movie at three in the morning? ovulating?"

"i'm going to hang up now."

"okay, okay! no more kink or ovulation talk." a peace offering from san's side makes leah let out a sigh of relief. "so... what's up?"

"nothing much, really. today's work drained me. i put his movie on because i am the only one of my friends who hasn't watched it, and after all these years, i decided tonight is the right time. what about you? what's cluttering the mind of choi san? a girl? a boy? a protein shake you ran out of?"

"a girl." he speaks faster than he thinks. an excited "ooooh" comes from the phone, and he drops his head into the pillow.

"who's the lucky girl? or better yet, unlucky?"

"and just why is she unlucky?" san turns and tosses again, feet swinging like a school girl talking to her secret crush in the middle of the night.

leah chuckles, the sound dear to san's heart. "you're not that easy going, sannie. you're a pain in the ass most of the time, if i may speak freely."

"i've seen this film before." and i didn't like the ending, he thinks. "but oh well."

"who's the girl?"

"wouldn't you like to know?"

"i would! i live for drama. i would also like to know who got the attention of the choi san. who's this girl that has you staying up so late and calling up your personal assistant for a chit—chat?"

san's brain doesn't seem to cooperate today. or the past year or so. "you."

silence. gruelling silence, eating up the young man's nerves. he turns back on his stomach, gripping the pillow below him. he removes the phone from his ear to see if the call is still going, and surely enough, the seconds are still ticking, soon helping the twelve minute mark reach thirteen. he drops the phone on the pillow, and finds short comfort in biting his nails.

"san..." she finally says something. "you can't say jokes like that. it's dangerous for both of us."

she's giving him a chance. a way out. and he takes it. "relax. i was only joking. as if i would ever like you, eugh."

leah laughs awkwardly. san squeezes his eyes shut with regret. did he just ruin his relationship with yet another assistant? how is it that everyone seems to want him, but when he wants someone, they don't share the same feelings?

"uh... i think i'll go sleep now. we do have to be up early tomorrow for that shoot." he saves them both further uncomfortable conversations. "what time do we have to be there again?"

"you have to be there at seven in the morning. i have to be there earlier to help set everything up. i'll send you the address again, just in case."

"okay. thank you, leah."

"no problem. good night, sannie."

"good night."

𓆩⟡𓆪

mere four hours of sleep have san snoozing on the makeup chair. it doesn't help that the soft brush is soothing against his skin — the artist quite literally lulling him to sleep, along with her absent—minded humming. he enjoys it. the smell of makeup, the soft fan, the brushing, tapping, the quiet rustle behind him.

"you look like a content kitty." the makeup artist teases.

he only hums with a smile, eyes still shut. he dozes off once again, only to be woken up by familiar fingers in his hair. they massage his scalp, pressing the right points which have the idol melting in the chair. not so long ago san would complain about headaches when he got his hair brushed. leah, still new then, had offered to give him a scalp massage. and since then, she has spoiled him. every time he has to brush his hair, she has to be around to do her part.

"sannie..." she calls into his ear.

he opens one eye, still not ready to bid goodbye to the sleepy state. "hm?"

his heart almost betrays him when he sees how close she is standing. his head leans over the headrest, so he can look her in the eyes. her breath is a soft breeze against his cheeks. a familiar scent. he just has trouble connecting it with the memory. she smiles at him, erasing any thought he had left. "it's time to go."

"boo." he pouts.

leah only laughs, then playfully tugs a strand of his charcoal hair to help him wake up. he jumps out of the chair before he can snooze again, almost skipping over to leah who is busy with rummaging through the snack table.

"watcha have there?" he asks, head leaning on her shoulder. he is almost rewarded with an elbow to his stomach, were it not for his quick reflexes. "aggressive much?"

"you can't have any." she warns, eyes still fixed on the table in search for the desired treat.

san sulks again. "come on. i was good today. give me something!"

fingers finally feel the familiar box, and leah triumphantly opens it up and wastes no time in sticking the treat between her lips, then turning towards san as a way to tease him. as she turns her head, a whiff of sweetness hits san's nose. and his mouth goes dry. ears ring, and his head feels dizzy. the scent of berries and chocolate envelops him, teleporting his mind back to the night he first tasted you. your tongue a melting ruby chocolate against him, skin burning under his touch, and sweet exhales gracing his ears. lips yearn to bite onto the other end of the pepero stick that tauntingly peeks from leah's glossy pink lips. maybe, just maybe, if he bites into it, you will spawn at the other end of it.

leah holds out a new treat for him to take. san doesn't take it like she would expect. no, he bites into it, eating from her hand. as if the pepero sticks themselves hold control over san. leah finds it funny. one might call him odd, but she seems to be used to his behaviour. once he finally finishes chewing it, she can't help but pat his head. "good boy."

and san swears he hears his own sanity shattering. he shudders, and before leah can voice her concern out loud, san's legs do the thinking for him. they take him out of the makeup room, through the unknown hallways, as far away from the sickenly sweet scent of berries and chocolate as possible. yet it seems to follow him, because as soon as san enters an empty room that seems like a storage, he is swallowed by it again. he barely has a moment to himself. to collect his thoughts, or to shoo them away. memories of you resurface, buried alive in his mind and heart. he rests his forehead against the cold wall, in hopes of cooling himself down. the door opens next to him, revealing leah with a shallow breath.

"sannie! what the hell was that?"

"don't call me that." his voice is a low growl, it even surprises him.

leah steps back, closing the door with her heel. "what?"

"sannie. don't call me sannie."

"but—" she stutters, "but you told me to—"

"and now," he steps towards her, until her figure is backed away in the corner of the room, slamming his hands against the wall on either side of her head. she jolts, eyes wide and blinking tears away. "i'm telling you to stop."

"i'm sorry." her voice is small, eyes red, and lip quivering. "i won't do it again, i promise."

he stays like that for what seems like hours. biting the inside of his cheek, thinking, pressing his nails into his palms. "fuck!"

he slams his fist against the wall harder, causing leah to flinch again. she lets out a whimper, covering her head with her hands. san doesn't recognize himself. he doesn't recognize these actions. grabbing both her wrists with one hand and pinning them above her head against the wall. cupping her jaw with his other hand and raising her head to force her to look at him. pressing his body against her.

"you think you're her." he says, lips almost brushing hers as he speaks. "you'll never be her."

leah is at a loss for words. she can only gulp, and maintain the painfully intense eye—contact. "i... i don't..."

"you can try. but you'll never," his nose brushes against hers, and his hair tickles her forehead as he leans in, "ever," she shudders, eyes shutting at the odd sensation of pain and pleasure, "be my y/n."

the hatred in his eyes contradicts his actions. his plush lips crash into her glossy ones. messy, hungry, spiteful. the gloss melts on san's tongue as it roughly swipes against her bottom lip, signaling her to part them so he can explore further. hot tongues clash in an unspoken battle; not a passionate dance, but a bittersweet fight. a fight to prove the other wrong.

when she bites his lower lip, a whimper escapes him, betraying his resolve. san finally pulls away, breathing shallow, lips swollen and glossy, tongue tasting more bitter than sweet. he sees leah fighting back tears as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand that held her face just a few seconds ago. "you're just an impostor."

she chokes on a mix of gasp and gulp, and opens her mouth to respond. tears stream down her face. defeated, she resorts in leaning further into the corner of the room, as if it will shield her from whatever possessed choi san. he laughs, almost in her face.

"you don't taste like her." he swipes his tongue on his lower lip, collecting any remaining gloss and destroying evidence of what happened mere moments ago. "what the hell was i thinking?"

his other hand abandons her, leaving her feeling empty and aching. yearning. she slides down the wall, legs jelly on the floor.

"i want nothing to do with you. stay away from me. you're a curse."

he then walks away, the heel of his shoe clicking against the floor tauntingly. his hand grips the door handle, and as san is halfway over the threshold, her voice stops him. "san!"

he doesn't respond. he stands still, waiting for her to continue.

with a fragile voice, she still manages to touch his nerve. "you're evil."

it sounds all too familiar. feels like it, too. only this time, he is at the other end of it.

𓆩⟡𓆪

"oooh san—ah! looking hot!" jongho waves the arena magazine in san's face.

the older male sits on the couch, eyes lazily following the show he has been struggling to keep up with due to various thoughts roaming his brain. his head feel heavy on his shoulders. "you're blocking the television."

the younger one rolls his eyes, then plops on the couch beside san. he flips through the pages, and even though san says he doesn't care, jongho sees him glancing at the magazine curiously. "why do your lips look so juicy?"

"what?" he snatches the magazine out of jongho's hands. surely enough, on multiple pages, san's lips shine under the camera flashes and various lights in the studio. remains of leah's lip gloss. "god. why are you even looking at my lips, you weirdo?"

"it's impossible not to. they're blinding."

"you're exaggerating." he brings the magazine close to his face, tip of his nose almost buried in the freshly printed paper. "how did you even get this so quick?"

"guess what we have!" wooyoung sings from the hallway as he locks the door. the doors opening and shutting interrupt jongho, and upon seeing the people entering, san properly buries his head into the magazine. "the one, the only, choi san!"

"i thought i locked the door." san whines. the stack of magazine finds its place on the coffee table. the couch is soon cramped, with wooyoung, seonghwa and yeosang pushing each other so that they can fit, none of them fond of sitting on the floor. unlike hongjoong, who comes in last, eyes glued to his phone while he finds his spot on the carpet with his back leaning against the couch. san nudges him with his knee as a greeting, and hongjoong spares him a wink in return. "why is this such a big deal now?"

"dare i say that your shoot was better than mine?" wooyoung teasingly purses his lips, then presses them against san's cheek. the older male dramatically wipes it, letting out a groan. "rude."

"was your photographer the same as wooyoung's?" seonghwa asks, flipping through the pages himself, then stoping at a particular one. "oooh! looking very juicy, san—ah."

choi san almost pushes jongho aside as he stands up, grabbing the stack of magazines on the way and making his way to his room. hongjoong pays him no mind, pulling his legs to his chest so that san can pass freely.

once in the room, he plops on the bed, magazines scattered all over it. almost every page captures his swollen lips, faint gloss stubbornly glimmering and mocking him. even the last page, where he has his face covered by his hand, the stupid gloss is smeared on the back of his palm. how did nobody notice this? did they like it and just rolled with it?

various names are listed around his form, and san skims over them as he bites his nails. he notices that it is indeed the same photographer as wooyoung's; oh taehwan. but it doesn't really matter. not when his eyes find something way more interesting. something that makes his heart beat faster, his jaw drop, and his fingers grip the magazine so hard he might rip it in half.

chief photo editor: y/n l/n.

it's not a coincidence. it can't be. how many people in south korea share a name like yours? were you there? were you hiding from him? right under his nose, while he was kissing somebody else? phone in hand, fingers are quick to find your name in the archive of conversations. as usual, he doesn't think. actions, as well as consequences, are his strength.

choi san: you were there?

the message sends. your profile photo is visible again, and he hadn't even noticed. how long did you have him unblocked for?

y/n: i was.

he stands up. this is too much. he wasn't expecting a response. not soon, not at all. he gulps, and gives himself a short moment to think properly for the first time today. he paces around the room, nails between his teeth, while he types and deletes with one hand, until he decides just what to write.

choi san: you knew i was there?

y/n: yes.

choi san: did you see me?

y/n: no. i didn't want to.

the first bullet shoots through san's heart. he doesn't back down yet.

choi san: why?

y/n: you haven't changed a bit

were those words of fondness? san can't tell over the messages.

y/n: you whiny fuck.

oh.

choi san: you haven't changed either. you're still evil.

y/n: i don't corner girls and verbally abuse them, then kiss them afterwards. i don't keep pushing if someone tells me no. i don't sabotage other people's lives. and lastly, i don't play the victim card whenever something doesn't go my way

choi san: what are you talking about?

y/n: it seems to me that you have a fetish for personal assistants. turns out forced proximity wasn't exactly the answer. it was your fragile emotional state.

san sighs. he buries his face into his hand, squeezing his eyes shut. "fuck."

choi san: you know nothing.

y/n: i know enough.

choi san: who are you?

y/n: what?

choi san: you aren't the person you were before. you aren't the one i fell in love with.

y/n: thank fuck.

disappointment floods his body. yet it still isn't enough to dim the spark of hope that stays bravely lit since the day you left. he exits the conversation with you, only to enter one with wooyoung.

choi san: what's the number of that photographer?

jung wooyoung: +82 32—8891—6623

choi san: thanks

𓆩⟡𓆪

it is a few minutes past ten in the evening. the restaurant is becoming crowded. one by one, the chairs of the long table are being occupied, and soon enough, there is only a handful left unoccupied. though crowded, you notice that only the members of staff are in the dimly lit restaurant. the place seems rented for the evening.

"what's the occasion?" you lean in to ask the photographer who sits next to you.

he only smiles, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "do we need one?"

"no, i guess." you shrug. "just wondering. that's a lot of people for no occasion. what are we eating?"

"meat platters. and don't worry, i ordered a double portion of baked potatoes. just how you like them." taehwan fixes his glasses by pushing them up his nose bridge. you're been convincing him for months to buy a new pair. "relax, love. just enjoy."

the glass of hugo is refreshing down your throat. you feel bloated, and you know it is because you are nervous. you wish you knew why. this whole evening is giving you an uneasy feeling. as if you won't fall asleep easily tonight.

"good evening, everyone."

if you were to listen closely, you'd hear the atoms in the hugo glass rearranging from your death grip. everyone's gaze is fixed behind you, and while you refuse to look — in hopes that you have simply gone crazy and are imagining voices — the person inevitably enters your vision.

he sits on the empty chair on the opposite of you. he avoids you, at first. or he simply doesn't know it is you. he takes his time to make himself comfortable on the chair, rolling his sleeves up, letting his jacket hang from the back of the chair, and running his fingers through his hair. but he knows. because as soon as he greets everyone around him in the most polite way, his eyes land on you. and they silently talk to you. they curse, cry, confess.

"i didn't want to tell you anything because i didn't want you to freak out. he organized the dinner specifically for the staff. how generous is that?" your boyfriend beams next to you. he then looks at san, who still refuses to break eye—contact first. "she is a huge atiny. it's a shame she was so busy the day of the shoot."

"yeah," san chuckles, "such a shame."

"oh, well. now that you are here, she can fangirl all she wants. i'll leave you to it, i have to pee so bad." the curly haired man downs the glass of orange juice, then squeezes out of the chair and makes his way to the toilet.

"miss y/n." he greets first.

it takes a second or two for you to unclench your jaw and stop biting the inside of your cheek. "mr choi."

"beautiful dress." he compliments.

you don't need to look down to know why he is complimenting it. it is the very dress you wore back in paris. the one that is immortalised on san's polaroid. you wonder if he still keeps it.

"does it hold any memories?" he pushes the limits.

the prosecco and elderflower melt on your tongue, the mint leaving a fresh aftertaste as you finish the glass. "none."

he seems to expect that kind of answer. he only smiles. "right."

san leaves you to your empty glass, for a while. not to give you a break or stop toying with you, but to engage in conversations around him. the female members of staff almost latch themselves onto him, some of them going as far as standing from their chairs and circle him in hopes of getting his attention. alcohol is slowly sipped, lipsticks carefully reapplied, hands accidentally brushing his arms and shoulders, and tones suddenly a tad more seductive.

"wow, mr choi! i knew you were muscular, but videos and pictures don't do you justice!"

only after that comment do you take a proper look at him. a tight turtleneck hugs his body, strategically picked so that it shows every curve and bump you know he works hard for. rolled up sleeves, causing slight pressure just below his elbow and making his arm veins prominent. his hair is a soft brown now, slicked back with a few strands framing his sharp features. he smiles at the women, some of them older than him. yet the smile isn't genuine, you know it. his dimples are missing.

"you must work out every day." subtle touches turn into rubbing his biceps and shoulders, as if asking for three wishes any second now.

you don't care. not when someone's manicured nails graze his exposed arm. not when he gets goosebumps from it. not when someone leans in to whisper something in his ear. not when he chuckles, and a dimple inevitably appears. not when he locks eyes with you as he whispers back into that person's ear.

you don't care. you don't care. you don't care.

you. don't. care.

"right, y/n?"

you finally let go of the abused glass, shifting your attention to the woman talking to you. "hm?"

"san doesn't think his muscles are that big. you've done lots of editing and staring at his photos. care to weigh in?"

weigh in to feeding his ego? no. you chuckle, instead, causing san's brows to slightly furrow. "i've seen better. within your group, even."

gasps of disbelief meet your ears as you nonchalantly fill the glass with water, leftover mint leaves giving it a hint of flavour as you drink and wait for san to respond. he doesn't, instead opting to stare at you with a puzzled look on his face. so you continue.

"have you seen kang yeosang?"

you've struck a nerve. you swear you see his eye twitch. his lips are pressed in a firm line, and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. "he's not bigger than me."

"i didn't say he was." it is your turn to play the non bothered one. "i said i've seen better, not bigger. big muscles aren't exactly my type."

"oh?" he seems genuinely surprised. he wants to ask what your type is. he can't. that type of behaviour would seem too suspicious in a room of hyper aware people. "well. i could introduce you one day, if our paths cross in the studio again. as a big, big atiny, you deserve to meet your bias."

the emphasis on the word big has you biting the inside of your cheek. that fucker. "i'm just a casual fan, really. i haven't been keeping up with your latest comeback, to be honest and guilty."

taehwan is back before san can reply. his hair is now collected in a man bun. perhaps a bit too tight. your fingers naturally lift his chin so that he can look at you. he rolls his eyes playfully once he realizes what you want to do. his bun is looser, your other hand skillfully working it while you hold his face in your palm. as a final touch, you hook your fingers into a few strands of hair in the front, setting them free to frame his freckled face.

there is no denying, oh taehwan is one of the most gorgeous men you've ever seen in your life. with his mother's asian features, and father's slavic features, taehwan is the best of both worlds. sharp almond eyes, skin cutting jawline, light freckles on his porcelain skin, and dark locks and bushy brows. he is also a replica of san when it comes to personality. but you would never admit it out loud. you didn't fall for him because he reminded you of san. you fell for him because he was one of the few men that had you speechless when you first laid your eyes upon him. it took a few dates and late night conversations for you to finally connect the dots. your brain has since short circuited, making you feel guilty. as if you were using taehwan to fill the void that was still reserved for choi san.

"what would i do without you, my darling?" tae presses his lips against your forehead, and then your nose, before turning his attention to the idol sitting to your opposite. "so, san— oh! are you alright?"

san is fuming. his cheeks are red. eyes bloodshot. brows furrowed. his hands grip the table cloth as he watches taehwan wrap his arm around your shoulders. you lean into the warm touch, now more inviting than ever. your nerves are slowly wrecking you. the cause? it sits still as a stone, staring into your eyes with an emotion you can't pinpoint yet.

"san...?" taehwan calls again.

"yes, taehwan?" he finally speaks, voice hoarse. he clears his throat. "sorry. just— you didn't mention you had a girlfriend? and the chief editor at that."

"ah, she doesn't like it getting announced all the time. she is a very private person." the dark haired man kisses your temple before continuing, "and i respect that."

"couldn't be me." san shrugs. "i would announce it to the whole world."

he thinks he did something. maybe impressed you, even. until you speak up. "and you fail to see an issue in that, mr choi?"

you have his full attention. he toys with the napkin in front of him as he listens.

"you wouldn't be respecting your partner's wish. she's a private person, yet you would announce it to the whole world? how much do you truly know and care for her then?"

nobody in this room but the two of you know the true core of this conversation. the rotten root that was never dug up, having grown into a poisonous plant in the meantime. its fruits are the snarky remarks you keep exchanging, camouflaged into friendly banter. some might call you childish. but to you, this is serious. you were right. san hasn't changed at all.

"doesn't respect go both ways? shouldn't she respect my wishes as well?" he raises an eyebrow.

"that's some very selfish thinking, mr choi."

the platters arrive one by one, shortly interrupting the quarrel that won't die out any time soon. taehwan isn't sure what is going on. but he won't interrupt you. he loves to hear you talk, and if he'll get that by listening to you talk back to an idol, then so be it.

"while respect does go both ways, i believe compromises are the ideal solution."

"communication matters more, in my opinion." he serves himself a piece of steak from the platter, then stabs it with a knife as he looks you dead in the eye. "not running away if something isn't up to your standards. is running also a compromise?"

a scoff betrays you. "well, if you refuse to be patient until the person feels comfortable with your standards, then perhaps. was she forced to run due to being put in an uncomfortable situation? such as announcing the whole world?"

"i don't think she was. she chose the easier option. i think she was more scared than in love, which, at the end of the day, means that it wasn't true love."

"nobody said it was." you mimic his moves, stabbing your own piece of meat and cutting into it aggressively. "she was probably confused. overstimulated by all the feelings. she wanted everything, but ended up having nothing."

"i can't help but notice the accusatory tone here, miss l/n."

"oh, i apologize. was i being too subtle?" a swear word is at the tip of your tongue. taehwan's hand finds its spot on your thigh, gently squeezing it. usually, it would calm you. right now, it irritates you. everything is annoying you; from the way the fabric of the damned dress is feeling on your skin and sudden attention you are receiving, to san's audacity to torture you like this and his behaviour. like he hasn't done anything wrong. like you are wrongly accusing him. you wish to scream into his face. instead, you take a deep breath, leaving the massacred piece of meat on the plate for a moment. "excuse me."

you stand up. all eyes are on you. it makes you weak. you hate it. fuck, you hate him.

the man next to you tries taking your hand in his, but before he can touch you, you're moving it away. "i need a moment."

taehwan calls for you. once, twice. maybe more. you don't hear it. you rush out of the restaurant, into the cold evening. you slip around the corner, hiding from the big windows, until you reach the back entrance reserved for the kitchen staff only. the doors are luckily shut, allowing you a moment to try and compose yourself.

hot meets cold as you try to calm your quick breath, creating small clouds of fog out your mouth. you succeed in taking a few deep breaths with your eyes closed, until his face appears in your brain. you open your eyes, grit your teeth, and sprint towards the nearby trash bin. your boot meets a trash bag on the floor, kicking it multiple times until it rips and all its contents spill on the floor and all over your shoe.

"fuck!" you scream. "fuck, fuck, fuck!"

it reeks of food that has been piling up there all day long. yet you couldn't care less about it. you continue kicking whatever you find, fists meeting the giant trash bin until your frostbit knuckles start bleeding. it's not enough. it won't be enough until the bin is replaced by his stupid face.

you deliver a final punch, blood trickling down your hand. the light material of the dress soaks it up. it's a breaking point. the dress is ruined.

you fall to your knees, holding onto the sleeve that turns crimson as your knuckles continue painting it. you sob. quietly at first. then, with each broken breath, you let it out. it can't be the stupid dress that made you break down. it is the symbolic it holds. and now, it feels as if your last physical memory of him is ruined.

you lied. you looked him dead in the face and said the stupid piece of fabric doesn't hold memories. it does. everything around you does. your body as well, with taehwan's each touch reminding you of the way san held you for a single night.

it is also reminds you that no matter where and when he kisses, touches or whispers to you, it will never compare to san. his natural submission, his need to please, his seeking of your validation. you wish to feel that kind of admiration again. taehwan can try as much as he wants, but nothing will ever awaken the storm inside you like san can with a simple glance of his big eyes.

tears soak your cheeks, continuing down your neck and dampening the collar of the dress. your chest hurts the more you sob, heart being tugged all ways at once and threatening to burst; this time with a promise to not recover.

you need to get out of here. how, you do not know. the restaurant is at the other end of seoul, and while the two of you came with separate cars due to finishing work at different hours, your keys and the rest of your belongings were still inside. you can't go back. not like this, and not with choi san still in there.

it takes approximately two seconds for you to figure out a plan that has low chances of bringing you alive and well to the doors of your friend's house. you'll walk down the road until you see a taxi, or hitch a ride, and ask your friend to pay for you until you get your belongings back. you can't stay out here any longer. your lips are slowly starting to go numb, as well as the tip of your nose.

instead of going the way you came, you opt for going all the way around the building, just in case someone's curious eyes are monitoring the windows. just as you turn around the corner, you come in contact face first with someone's chest. it feels familiar.

"oh, taehwan!" you let out a sigh of relief. body falls into his arms, seeking warmth and comfort. "i thought you'd never come. i need to get out of here, please."

he stays silent. hands hesitate to wrap around you, but they do eventually. slowly, as if you'll crumble under his touch. one hand rubs your back, and the other one settles on your head, softly caressing your hair.

"you're mad. i'm sorry." you mumble into his chest. "you have every right to be. i'll explain everything, i promise."

it's not like taehwan to give you a silent treatment. have you screwed up that bad that he refuses to talk to you? you pull away, ready to meet a disappointed face. a sad one, and even an angry one. not one that belongs to choi san.

"you—" words are a burden in your throat. you try stepping away, yet the touch that was once hesitant and soft holds you firmly so you don't run. "you—"

"what have you done?" the tone isn't accusatory. it is pure concern as his eyes soften upon seeing your bloody knuckles. "what did you do to your pretty hands?"

a rollercoaster of emotions threatens to rip you to shreds. unnatural amounts of anger fill your body, as well as a tingling sensation all over your skin. choi san's thumb gently grazes the cracked knuckles of your hand, while the other one on your lower back holds your body firmly pressed against his.

how could you have possibly mistaken the two? betrayed by your own mind and heart, you helplessly stand before the person who pushed you to your very limits. you remove your hand out of his, a bit harsher than intended. the hiss is short lived, replaced by another gasp as san pushes you back where you came from and behind the bin.

"get your hands off—!"

"hush." he covers your mouth with his hand, head turned the other way in order to see if you are being spied on.

you hear the doors opening and closing, then a row of lighters clicking. they must've stepped out for a smoke. san's brows soften when his gaze falls back on you. wide eyed, with dried and fresh tears covering your face, you silently sob into his open palm.

"i'm going to remove my hand now, okay?"

a nod from you is all he needs to fulfill his promise. as soon as he does, you inhale deeply. the air burns cold as it fills your lungs. san doesn't speak right away. he watches as you try to regain your composure. it is a challenge, with guilt and ache chewing through you. guilt for taehwan. and ache for san. your heart burns, fingers itch to reach for him. but when you look at him, you can't help but remember what he did. "why are you here?"

san seems to be expecting that, because he simply sighs. "your boyfriend wasn't moving. i had to."

"he was giving me space." you defend him, though you can't help the painful tug you feel in your chest. while you usually do need your space, this is too big of a deal for him to just let you be by yourself. then again, he doesn't know. he doesn't know that you being alone with san is dangerous. if he knew, he'd run to you, even to the other side of the city. you hope. "unlike you, who has to be up my ass every chance you get."

he snorts, earning a glare from you. "if i catch a whiff that my girl is upset, i'm climbing mountains to make sure she is okay."

"get a hold of yourself, mr choi." rage replaces the aching you felt just moments ago. "i am not your girl. i never was."

"you could've been mine." he says, voice dropping. "and i could've been yours."

cigarette smoke threads through the cold air, enveloping him, mingling with his own scent of cedar and worn leather. it catches in your throat. your fingers twitch like memory could be touched. he smells warm. he smells like home.

a home you can't return to. the path is destroyed, overrun by vines of despair and fallen trees of anguish.

"you could've." your voice is raspy, words itching your throat as you speak. "but you were impatient."

"why are you doing this to yourself?" he takes both your hands in his, and before you can yank them away, he fastens the grip on your wrists. "why are you hurting yourself?"

you opt for silence. if you speak, you'll start crying. eyes burn anyway, seeing san's furrowed brows and gentle eyes examining the wounds. when he touches your skin, it feels as if he is touching your soul. and when he looks you in the eyes, stare so deep and intense, it feels as if he can see your mind. he intrudes it with his heavy gaze, rummaging through locked memories you've been dying to erase. but how can you, when a whiff of cedarwood reminds you of him? when every once in a while, you enter the old conversations with him, when it wasn't so complicated? when you had a silly little crush on your boss and he was just playfully flirty? when you yearn to steal that polaroid from him, because heaven knows he'll get over you easier than you'll get over him?

"did i..." he gulps, then blinks a few times. "did i do this to you?"

"yes." you don't hesitate to answer through gritted teeth.

the word perishes in the air, much like the smoke that keeps biting your nostrils, ruining the forbidden memory of his scent. you wish nothing more than to bury your head back into his chest, inhale until your lungs hurt, and don't let go until the pain stops. if it ever stops.

the man looks away, jaw clenched. you are wary of his every move, and thus, you notice the glimmer in his eyes. he bites the inside of his cheek. and you see it. before he lets go of your hand and brushes his face, you see it. the crystal drop escaping his eye, its remains latching onto his long lashes. it takes him courage to look back at you. he blinks again, hoping to stop the new tears forming.

choi san looks dashing. vulnerable, yet the epitome of perfection. the lamps of the restaurant's parking lot cast a soft yellow hue on him, his hair a honey shade and ever so inviting to touch. lip sticking out in his signature pout. lashes damp like grass in the morning with dew. cheeks a soft pink blush, which you only notice because he stands so close to you. your free hand thinks instead of you. fingertips graze his cheek, unsure at first. a short gasp leaves his lips, and when your palm lays flat against his hot skin, a tear finally rolls freely down his face. another one follows, then another. until it coats your hand, and your thumb brushing them away doesn't help.

he leans into your touch, closing his eyes and allowing himself to silently cry. no sobs, no words. just silent tears dampening the turtleneck that looks so damn good on him. his hand abandons yours, only to place itself on your waist and further push you against the wall. for a split second, you are back in milan, in your hotel room. him confessing for the first time, you holding back tears as you rejected him for his own good, pushed against the wall much like now. how he looked exactly as he looks in this frozen moment, desperate to stay close to you and convince you to stop lying to yourself.

"mr choi—" you can't let it happen again.

"shh," he hushes you, forehead leaning against yours. "let me have this. please, let me have this."

you're not sure what he means. whatever it is, you know you'll fall for it. so you do what you always knew best: put your palms flat against his chest, and push. he doesn't budge. he only presses himself against you, body warm and inviting against your cold and shivering one. two vulnerable people, each on the brink of breaking and getting the other into trouble. it seems to be your destiny, playing this game of push and pull.

"does he make you happy?"

the question isn't laced with jealousy. no, it's laced with desperation. a silent plea, for you to say no. as if his heart will feel at ease, and his mind will rest if you do him that favour. the words land like a bruise, tender and deep. you wish to say yes, to end this before the lines become further blurry, almost invisible, but the word lodges in your throat. his dark eyes are searching yours, desperate, and you know that if you look away, you'll lose him for good. you should look away. you should run. call for taehwan. end this once and for all.

instead, you feel the warmth of his breath ghost over your lips, the faint scent of cedarwood and smoke pulling you back to every moment you swore you'd forget. his fingers tighten at your waist, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he's still here. one word could save you. another could ruin you. and you're not sure which one you want more.

"please," he begs, tip of his nose brushing against yours. "please. tell me. i need to know."

the taste of your own words is bitter on your tongue, causing you to grimace upon saying them. "did you beg her like this as well?"

"w—what?"

"when you kissed leah, san."

the illusion shatters between the two of you. if you felt a trace of regret for parting ways with him, it vanishes the moment he steps back. and opens his goddamn mouth. "how did you know?"

"that's your concern?" you laugh into his face. "how i knew? gods, you are insufferable. you are the most selfish, egoistical, the most—"

"i need to know how you found out."

"are you fucking hearing yourself?!" you break the silent moment you shared. "you were just crying, begging me to admit that i am unhappy, and now you demand i tell you how i found out that you haven't changed one bit?! that you will fall for any fool that dares enter your personal space?! that you'll bring them nothing but misery, and cost them the job they worked so hard for!"

two things stick to san's brain. one: you know about him telling sihun.

and two: you are unhappy.

he hates how relieved he feels. he hates that he has to fight back a smile. he hates how overstimulated and confused you feel because of him, yet all he can do is hold onto the spark of hope that keeps growing with each moment that passes.

"i saw you, san." your bottom lip quivers as the words leave you. "i wanted to come and greet you, talk to you, and finally get closure. maybe even ask about what you did and why you did it. do you know that i have not stopped creating excuses on your behalf since the moment i found out? told myself you only meant well? that you weren't actually a selfish asshole? i cannot believe, that you had the audacity to wake up first and text the manager, then go back to sleep knowing full well what would happen? waking up after me and acting like everything is fine?"

the man remains silent. he has interrupted you enough. it is time to listen.

"you knew the chances of him approving it were below zero. you couldn't have waited at least a few days? you couldn't have talked to me about it? fuck, we weren't even together! we fucked, that's it! at least i thought that's it. i hoped it is on your end. that you scratched an itch, and you'd leave it alone. i felt guilty for indulging. but i hoped, fuck—" you sob, hands rushing to wipe the tears away, "—i hoped that if i did, you'd finally abandon those so called feelings, and save us both from trouble. you'd realize it wasn't love. it was just what i told you it was: forced proximity. i'd keep my job, and you'd leave me alone, and save yourself. and you go ahead and do what you did, without my knowledge, stabbing me in the fucking back, and acting as if you didn't know. as if you're sorry."

"i was sorry."

"shut the fuck up. don't interrupt me, choi san. i am not done with you." the tip of your nail is buried into his firm chest, slipping through threads of the thin knitted turtleneck and resting against his pulsing heart. "and then, while away from you, you spammed me with messages. paragraphs, links, pictures. i began to think that you actually do have feelings for me. that i wasn't just something you wanted to try and see if it fits. and i blocked you for my good. for once, i was selfish. i blocked you because i couldn't trust myself to not run back into your arms again. i had time to think. by the time taehwan arranged to have a photoshoot with you, i thought enough time has passed to have a mature conversation about all the events that happened. i went to the makeup room, they told me you went for a stroll in the hallways. i asked about you. they told me you started behaving again since i left. that you have that spark back. and while i was happy for you, a part of me smelled the issue."

he doesn't move away from your sharp touch. he leans further into it, signaling that he has no intention of backing away, no matter how much it hurts. he'll stay.

"then i saw it. you kissing the poor girl. i felt sorry for her. i knew she might suffer the same fate as me. then, you degraded her. it made me sick to my stomach, seeing you spit venom at her like that. it made me feel like i never knew you. in the recent few times i saw you, you did things i didn't know you were capable of. telling sihun, defending melanie, saying such vile things to leah. it made me back away and never want to see you again. that's why i avoided you. you accused me of not being the person you fell in love is. well, choi san, i am sad to inform you that i feel the same way."

remaining smoke blends in with the fog coming out of your lips as you speak. the doors shut in the distance, the two of you finally alone outside the restaurant. he thinks carefully. he isn't the wisest when it comes to leading serious conversations. he opts for something simple, yet true. "it didn't mean anything."

"and another thing." a burning sensation spreads on his cheek. your hand stings as well, open palm hanging in the air as it recovers from the harsh slap you delivered. the very same hand that caressed the cheek just moments ago. san's head flies to the side due to impact. he doesn't expect it, because he looks at you with pure shock painted on his features. "how dare you use my name to degrade someone?"

it is your turn to gasp with surprise, feeling your throat tighten. the man wraps his hand around your neck, gently squeezing the sides just enough to silence you so he can speak. "don't you get it? i am like this because you aren't by my side. i am not me without you. why can't you get it into that stupid, stupid, pretty head of yours?"

"san—" you cough. the pressure isn't strong enough to rid you of oxygen. it is just enough to make you uncomfortable and stiff. "please—"

"will you look me in the eyes and lie to my face again? tell me the dress doesn't mean anything? tell me you have actual feelings for that guy? tell me you don't feel anything when i stand close to you, even though i feel your heart trying to break free from your ribcage? you expect me to believe anything you say after all you did was lie to me since the night i confessed to you?"

"you're thinking about yourself again." you cry out. "you, you, and only you. your feelings. your emotions. your whole damn life. not once did you apologize in a way that you mean it."

"you're blaming me for putting you through this. in reality, you're the one to blame." his tone shifts, warm breath no longer a gentle caress, but a hot warning. "you keep pushing me away, lying to my face, denying yourself happiness. one time i try to take matters into my own hands, all hell breaks loose. choi san is the worst. he cost you your job. as if you even have to work that kind of a job. i could've given you any position you wanted. hell, i could've opened your own studio. if only..." his hand slides from your neck to your jawline, thumb tracing it from your earlobe to your chin, before it rests on your bottom lip, "if only you cooperated. if only you didn't make it so complicated."

"we are spinning in circles, san." your voice is weak. you are tired. because of that, your body allows him to do whatever he wants. his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip, lingering a little where it started peeling due to cold. "when you do things without consulting someone, it makes them feel as if they don't matter. i feel insignificant. you felt so big and powerful, like you could have control over my life just because of your position. hell, before all this, you didn't even know that i wanted to do photography. even if i didn't, it is not on you to make the call whether or not i need a job. i loved what i did. i was surrounded by people i looked up to half my life. i didn't only lose you. i lost seonghwa and hongjoong, the two i admire the most. i lost wooyoung and mingi, the only ones that knew how to make me laugh. i lost yeosang and jongho, the ones who took such care of me even though i wasn't in their service. i lost yunho, who treated me like his little sister. i lost all of them as well, you just didn't see that. you didn't want to see that."

the man finally seems to absorb everything you've poured out to him. you wanted to be included in a decision. he was impatient. pushy, maybe even controlling and manipulative at times. in his head, it all fell under the same category: love and caring. he didn't realize how much he was hurting you in the process. he only meant to free you from the claws of professionalism so you could be happy. he even convinced you that you had feelings for him way before you admitted them yourself. your finger on his lips stops him from talking.

"i lost you, choi san. the one who looked out the most for me. sometimes crossed the line, flirted a bit too much, and was mostly a child in a man's body, but you still cared so deeply before all this mess. everything you said was true at the time. those late night conversations weren't just a job. each interaction with you did not leave me feeling indifferent. i just wish you would have let me set my own pace. i felt forced. rushed. it didn't feel real."

san sighs against your finger. he squeezes his eyes shut, regret eating him up alive. "i'm so sorry."

your heart twitches at the sound of his voice. it is hoarse, and so quiet that if someone were eavesdropping, they wouldn't have caught it. he takes your hands back in his, then lowers himself to the ground. the sound of his knees hitting the dusty asphalt causes you to gasp, and almost instantly, you try pulling him up so that he stands again. he refuses, planting himself in front of you.

"i'm so fucking sorry." he kisses each one of your knuckles, plush lips warm and soft against the dried up bloody wounds.

"get up." you squeeze his hands in an attempt to convince him. "please, get up."

he shakes his head. a street lamp in the back begins to dim, and the place starts feeling unreal. as if it's another nightmare you'll wake from, forced to lie to taehwan about it. you can't tell him you dreamed of the man your body still burns for. though, taehwan's soul is so pure, he wouldn't hate you for it. he would find excuses for you, just like you did for san.

but you don't wake up. you lean against the wall, bruised hands cradled in san's big, warm ones, coated in gentle kisses that barely graze your skin. one hiss is enough for him to shortly retreat, only to come close again and press your open palms against his cheeks. on his knees, he shuffles closer to you, until he can wrap his arms around your legs and lean his head against your stomach. only a thin layer of skin contains the storm he stirs in you. something fragile flutters inside, like wings brushing against the walls of your chest. you allow yourself another moment of vulnerability. closing your eyes, putting your hands on his head, fingers lacing with the soft locks of hair, and breathing out. you feel at peace.

you feel home. a home that is wrecked, and doesn't know if it'll ever stand again. san calms down under your touch, occasionally shuddering when your nails graze the back of his neck. it feels as if time has stopped. as if you've created an alternate reality behind the restaurant. if you walk back in, will the people you left behind still be there?

"sannie," you call his nickname, knowing that he's weak to it. surely enough, san looks up at you, chin resting on your stomach. you can't help but reach for his bottom lip, playfully tugging at it as he looks at you wide and glossy eyed. "we need to go back."

he doesn't protest. he listens. finally. you help him up, though he doesn't need it, and fix his hair while he simply gawks at you. it feels natural, no matter how long has passed. fixing his hair had always been a habit of yours, since he loved running his fingers through it every now and then. it is no longer neatly slicked back, giving him a gentler look than the one he came in with.

"you should go in first, as to not raise suspicion."

"oh," he can't help the disappointed tone. "is...?"

"if you could tell taehwan that i am here, i would be grateful." you don't allow him to finish the question, knowing just what he'll ask you. is this it? you don't know. it should be. it must be.

choi san nods, then stuffs his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "i'll tell him."

"thank you, sannie." the first smile tonight tugs your lips. he returns it, though it doesn't reach his eyes. before he bids his goodbye and disappears around the corner, you tug at his elbow, climbing on tippy toes just to plant a kiss on his still red cheek. "i'm sorry for slapping you."

"i deserved it." the smile finally reaches his eyes, but disappears just as quickly as it appears. "good night, y/n."

"good night, mr choi."

"sannie," he corrects. "not mr choi."

you don't respond. he doesn't expect you to. it is enough that you offer him a chuckle, and his heart is somehow at peace.

yours? holding on for dear life.

𓆩⟡𓆪

"i fear i haven't been completely honest with you, tae." you sit at taehwan's kitchen table on your day off, having slept over the previous night after your late shift.

the curly haired man sitting across from you raises an eyebrow, peeling his eyes away from the sudoku paper that already has drops of his morning coffee decorating it and setting them on your bowl of cereal. he notices you've barely touched it. "about?"

"my previous job."

he nods, shifting his attention back to the paper. "go on."

you are puzzled. you know taehwan is forgiving, and understanding. but this is striking your nerves, and you almost feel your eye twitching. "tae."

"hm?"

"why are you indifferent?" you question without beating around the bush. "your girl was outside with a man for almost an hour, alone in the dark of the night, and you didn't stand up once to come check on us? nor did you ask about it, and it's been almost three weeks since it happened. how can you be so indifferent?"

"i trust you."

usually, it would make you feel appreciated. right now, you feel as if he is saying it just to get you off his back. "you don't want to hear about it?"

"y/n..." your name leaves his lips as a sigh. he locks eyes with you for the first time this morning. he seems tired, even though he woke up almost two hours ago. "do you want me to be crazy and jealous? more importantly, do i have reason to be?"

you swore you'd tell him. truth, and only truth. but now that you're here, how do you look your boyfriend in the eyes and say that you have buried feelings for choi san? feelings buried alive, waiting to be saved. maybe san is right. you're nothing but a liar. you lie to yourself first, and then to everyone around you.

you can't keep using taehwan as a distraction. you haven't, until you met with san. since that night, you keep sleeping over at his place and following him everywhere just to get your mind off the man that will not leave it.

"well?"

"i need a break." you blurt out.

the curly haired man nods. you expect him to react. say something. not to simply stand up, put his cup in the sink, then approach you. his hand cradles your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek in the process. he plants a kiss on top of your head. "i know."

he then goes back to the sink to wash the cup. you watch, dumbfounded. did he not understand what you meant?

"no, taehwan." you stand up, chair scraping the tiles and scratching your ears as you tuck it under the kitchen table. "you don't understand. i need a break—"

"from us, yes." he finishes for you. you tilt your head, unable to read his emotions. as if it'll help you understand better. his back is still turned, and it takes him a very long time to wash a single cup. "i know."

"why are you so... nonchalant?" it hurts you. it makes you feel as if he doesn't care at all. while you wouldn't have wanted him to freak out, you still would've appreciate anything other than whatever this is. "do you not care?"

finally, the cup finds its place on the dish rack. he wipes his wet hands with the towel that hangs from the oven handle. he walks over to you, then places his hands on your shoulders. everything about this day is odd. he's never held you like this before. so stiff and awkward. no, you can't even call it awkward. it's fully intentional on his end. not weird at all.

"i care about you as a person, really. but..." he trails.

"but?"

"but as a girlfriend? you're terrible."

you can't be offended, no matter how much you want it. you thought you were doing your best, not letting feelings for san interfere. hell, you even thought you forgot about him. seems not.

"when san called me and proposed the idea of the dinner, i thought it odd." taehwan lets go of you so he can take his phone out, eyes searching for something on the screen as he continues, "i had photographed wooyoung, and many others, and all of them did their part and left. so i agreed to it, thinking how kind he is. not even an hour later, i got a phone call from kim hongjoong."

your heart drops. taehwan glances at you, and as he sees your uneasy expression, he hums. almost with satisfaction. as if saying got you. there is no reason to feel this way. you didn't lie. you just didn't tell.

"he said that you worked as a personal assistant for choi san and kang yeosang. he then said that san and you have some rather uncomfortable history, and that the reason behind the dinner is san seeking closure with you. he wanted me to stop you from attending for, i quote, her own good. that you don't deserve to be a part of san's little games. so, naturally, i took a liberty in... well, checking your phone."

"you what?" the words are louder than you wanted them to be, and taehwan grimaces. "why would you do that? why not just ask?"

something shifts in his eyes. as if a veil of coldness settles over them. "ask? i have to ask about your past? i have to ask about men that are potential threat to our relationship? i have to ask if you still have any feelings for any of those men? i'm sorry, usually when i have a girlfriend, they don't come with predownloaded feelings for somebody else."

"i didn't mean—" you catch yourself raising your voice again in the middle of the sentence. you have to calm down. right now, your behaviour is making you look very guilty. as if something happened. you take a deep breath, hoping it will help you continue this conversation in a normal tone. "i simply meant about the messages. if you'd asked, i'd have shown them to you myself. you would've seen that hongjoong didn't mean anything by what he said. i don't have feelings for san—"

"one doesn't disappear behind a restaurant with their ex lover following while their boyfriend stays behind, then comes back after an hour without feelings, y/n." before you can defend yourself, he points the screen of his phone at you. "here."

the photo is dark on the screen. you have to zoom in to make sense of it, and when you do, your breathing almost stops. someone had slipped between the parked cars and took shot after shot of you and san, from the hug to the slap. all of it frozen in your boyfriend's gallery.

"but tae, nothing happened between us." you return the phone, the pictures giving your heart and mind a tough time. you dismiss the way your stomach feels fuzzy upon seeing san's big figure enveloping yours. "from the day i met you, and even before that, until right this second, i haven't engaged with san in any way that is considered cheating. hell, i haven't even seen him until that evening."

"nothing happened. yet." he says, and is quick to press a finger to your lips to shut you up so you don't interrupt him. he steps closer, until his breath caresses your cheeks. "i love you, more than anything. but i refuse to be the poor boyfriend who suddenly gets dumped because he didn't realize his girlfriend is in love with someone else. i don't want to receive looks and messages of pity. therefore, i agree. we need a break. up."

the curly haired man becomes blurry before your eyes. tears sting as they arrive, pooling in the corners of your eyelids, but not spilling just yet. "you're breaking up with me, even though i never betrayed you?"

"then why did you want a break in the first place?"

"to sort my thoughts and feelings out!" you defend yourself.

"look me in the eye and tell me you don't love san." his hand cradles your chin, guiding your gaze to his. his touch is anything but harsh. he is still gentle with you, no matter what he is feeling in the moment. "tell me you never thought of getting back to him during our relationship. tell me, and i'll let this go."

you are desperate to say no. but just once, you admit that san is right. it's time to stop the lies. you aren't only costing yourself nerves and proper happiness, you are hurting two men in the process. san, who could've been in taehwan's spot long ago. and taehwan, who could find someone actually worth his love and kindness.

your silence is his answer. a soft smile graces his lips before he presses them against your forehead. "i knew you were too good to be true anyway."

"tae..." as if guilt isn't enough to drown you, taehwan's tears make an appearance. "i'm sorry."

he shakes his head, then sniffles as he takes his glasses off as to not ruin them. he had just wiped them with the hem of his t—shirt before starting the sudoku. you always tsked him when he did that, knowing full well he has at least three small cloths for that in his bag.

"i want you to know that i didn't get into a relationship with you to replace san. i did it because i genuinely saw the future with you at one point."

"you don't have to justify yourself. it's best if we stop here, it can only get worse if we go further." his voice is a mere whisper. "i think you should go. for the sake of both of us."

a lump settles in your throat, and you are unable to swallow it. you were expecting this to happen eventually, somewhere deep in your mind. you just didn't think it'd be this painful, considering you haven't been together for a long time and there is another man clouding your mind.

the time it takes for you to gather your belongings in a tote bag seems like an eternity, even though only ten minutes have passed. you glance around his room, making sure you aren't leaving anything behind. the room and its bed often served as a big laundry basket, waiting to be ironed and put away. rarely did you sleep in there, with you always suggesting to watch a movie on the couch and falling asleep first halfway through it, and with taehwan not having a heart to wake you. every time he'd wake up with a sore back, but not once did he complain. you saw it though, in subtle movements as he worked, such as failing to crouch or bend over.

"maybe now you can finally sleep on the bed. your back won't hurt from the couch." you joke, trying to lighten the situation. you hear a faint chuckle from beyond closed doors.

when you exit the room, you find taehwan near the main door of the apartment, leaning with his back against the wall and holding your shoes. you approach him, trying to take your shoes from him. he simply motions for you to sit on the ottoman near the shoe rack, and gets on his knees. what is it with men and kneeling these days?

it isn't odd for taehwan to do things like this. he often helped you get dressed, combed your hair, helped you tie your shoelaces, fed you. you didn't expect him to do any of that right now. from helping with the shoes, to putting your jacket on and loosely tying the scarf around your neck. his scarf.

"keep it. please." he sees the look on your face. "just because a relationship ended doesn't mean a friendship and collegiality should."

"thank you, tae. for being so understanding." you fail to look him in the eye, keeping your gaze locked on the gloves he slides on your hands for you.

"oh, y/n." his voice cracks upon opening the door for you. as you step out, you finally look at him, only to find tears rolling down his cheeks. "i knew you weren't mine from the moment you set your eyes upon him that evening."

"i'm sorry."

"and i'm sorry, too. for not being enough."

𓆩⟡𓆪

not even a week later, you quit. you can't take it, being close to taehwan after all the events that took place. he's sad to lose a good friend and colleague, and so are you. but it's for the best. you've been taking any job opportunity you can since then, running from interview to interview in hopes of soon getting employed. it will be devastating to get used to a much lower paycheck than the one of chief editor, but you'll make it. you always did.

the cafe is bursting with people at eight in the morning, people standing and drinking their coffees near the occupied tables. that cannot be pleasant, can it? your eyes search for a person that sits alone. in the corner, almost behind the counter, you spot him. he wears a cap, a grey hoodie and sweatpants. seems a little shady for a job interview, but at this point, you are desperate.

"good morning," you greet first. "i'm y/n l/n, here for the job interview."

he nods, face still hidden behind the cap. he points to the chair to his opposite, and when you sit, he finally looks at you. eyes turn into crescent moons as a familiar smile spreads on his lips. "good morning."

"seong— mr park?" you lower your voice, not wanting to attract attention to the disguised idol. "i'm so sorry, i thought you were someone else."

"no, you thought good. please sit." he stands up, pulling a chair out for you to sit.

with a puzzled look on your face, and a glance at your surroundings, you sit to his opposite, back turned towards the rest of the cafe.

"well?" he asks, a sweet smile still on his lips. "how have you been?"

you don't wish to play any games. you're too tired for that. "mr park, i would like to skip the small talk, if you don't mind."

"as you wish, tiny." his nickname for you still lives. he hasn't forgotten that behind all what happened, you are still a fan and care deeply about them. "i'm here to offer you a job."

"you?" you say, raising an eyebrow. "a job? you're qualified for that?"

"i have my ways," he says. "just say the word, and i'll make it come true."

"and what job is that? sweeping the dressing rooms?" you sound bitter, and even to you, it's a bit mean. "well?"

"i want you as my personal assistant."

a laugh betrays you. it makes seonghwa's smile falter, and only then do you realize that he means it. "oh. you're serious?"

two cups of coffee are placed on the table, interrupting the odd conversation hidden in the corner of the cafe. he has ordered you an iced vanilla nescafe, and an iced americano for himself. he thanks the waiter, immediately using your distracted thinking to pay for both drinks. you don't notice, too busy biting the inside of your cheek and calculating seonghwa's intentions.

"what'll make it different this time?" you ask.

the straw is pressed to his plump lips as he takes the first sip. he hums at the bittersweet taste before looking at you. "you'll be mine."

you know the context of it. those around you don't, so you frantically turn your head to see whether anyone is eavesdropping. seonghwa pushes the tall glass towards you, until the coldness meets the warmth of your hand. unsure, you also take a sip out of the straw, using the time to prepare further questions.

"before you ask, sihun isn't around anymore. he got a job at a different company after firing three more assistants, and the rest of us finally had enough and complained until he himself got fired."

"but why yours? not that i'm complaining, it's just..." you trail, swirling the straw in the cup and playing with the ice. they graze against each other and the glass from the inside, creating soothing clinking noises among the clamor behind you. "...it seems you have some hidden intentions on your mind. i don't want to be kept in the dark anymore, if you want me to cooperate."

"it is only natural for you to be skeptical." the man nods understandingly.

his slender fingers pull the cap down to further cover his face as he leans over the table, causing you to to lean back against your chair. he motions for you to lean in as well, and when you do, you realize he still wears the same perfume. it reminds you of the time he was the one who stopped the car while you were having a panic attack as hongjoong scolded you and san. how you fell into his arms, seeking comfort. how he gave it to you, holding you tight and caressing your head as you cried and shivered into his chest. he looks at you with those kind eyes under the cap, resembling boba pearls with their size and colour. you can't help but deeply inhale, letting the scent consume you and take you back to where you belong.

"hey," he calls, waking you from your trance. you try to avoid his gaze by pointing yours at the drink, wrapping your lips around the straw and tasting the cold vanilla. his hand touches yours, enveloping it in a warm embrace as you almost choke on the liquid. the grip is strong as you try to set it free. "don't run. listen to me."

"mr park, how is this appropriate for you? what if someone sees?" fear is evident in your voice.

"they'll see if you keep turning like that every few seconds." his free hand takes your other one, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin to calm you down. "san told me you like photography. this is nothing like it, i know. but maybe, we can hit two birds with one stone."

"you are talking in codes again." you murmur. "i don't like it."

"first, you can start as my personal assistant. you can snap pictures of me occasionally, because i'll ask for it. little by little, i'll flaunt the shots, and you could become our photographer, or editor. whichever your heart desires. i'll find a way." he explains, still not letting go of your hands. as if you'll decline if he lets go.

"and second?"

"you can be near san." your heart stutters upon hearing the words. a silent buzz fills your ears, causing the cafe and its people to seem still for a moment. as if they're silently anticipating the next words out of seonghwa's mouth, much like you. the clinking of cups in the sink behind the counter wake your mind from the short slumber. the cafe comes alive again, chatter and laughter filling your ears once again. "if that is what you still wish."

"that doesn't sound dangerous to you?" skepticism floods your mind again. "it won't be odd for me to be interacting with a member i don't work for?"

"no, not in the slightest." he simply says. "it would be more odd to see you overly friendly with the member you work for. especially san, since the rest of the staff found out what happened. they'd have their eyes glued to you at all times. this way, it'll be safer."

"and what makes you so sure?"

"because," he lets go of your hand, only to tap the tip of your nose with his finger playfully before continuing, "you'll be under my protection."

"you're asking me to walk back into fire." your voice suddenly becomes hoarse.

"i'm asking you to walk in with armor," he replies. "and this time, i'll be standing beside you."

he gives you time to think, returning to his own beverage, but not yet letting go of your hand. seonghwa must've really thought this through. after all, he managed to convince you to come for a job interview, and has calculated ways of bringing you back. hell, he even got to you, making you think of actually returning to the place you've escaped.

"you really believe there is something worth saving between me and san?" you question. "to the point of you meeting up with me like this and endangering yourself?"

"i know love when i see it. just as i did with mingi and jaz."

right, those two. you aren't surprised that they're still together. you always shipped them, even before anything happened between them. you believed nothing could tear them apart. so why didn't you have the same beliefs for yourself and san? why didn't you give it a proper chance, instead of a late night temptation?

"you think it'll work?"

seonghwa's free hand tucks a stray hair behind your ear, then places his fingers under your chin, guiding your gaze to lock with his. "it has to."

eyes sting as you subconsciously squeeze his hand. "and if it all falls apart again?"

"then i'll be there to catch you."

𓆩⟡𓆪

your brand new qr plate shines under the lobby lights as you press it against the pad. since you left, the company invested in technology, it seems. the doors open upon recognizing the code, and you slip through the doors before they shut.

the tiles are freshly polished, you notice. the faint scent of cleaning chemicals lingers down the long hallways, following you to the fateful door you must go through. with coffee in one hand, and a clipboard in the other, you open the door with your elbow, silently praying that you don't spill the beverage all over your outfit.

upon entering, you are pleased to be met with an almost empty makeup room. seonghwa sits in the makeup chair, snoozing as he waits for his artist. he seems to be the only one there. it gives you time to calm your nerves.

you've gone to sleep with a painful stomach, anticipation eating you up alive. you'll see san. you'll probably speak to him, too. in the morning, you felt no different. you barely managed to zip up your pants, the bloating from stress causing you trouble the first day at your new job. funny how brain does all these things.

"mr park," you gently call, placing the paper cup in front of him.

"mmh?" the man sleepily replies, opening one eye to look at you. when he sees it's you, he opens the other one as well, a lazy smile spreading on his lips. "good morning, tiny."

"good morning, mr pa—"

"a—ah!" he interrupts. "no more mister this mister that. i hate it."

"really?" you squint playfully. "then what would you like me to call you?"

"i give you full freedom to choose. think wise. something worth making san jealous. i want to toy with him a little." the sweet smile turns mischievous.

as he sips the morning coffee, you allow yourself a moment of freedom before your duties begin. you sit on the makeup chair next to him, spinning slowly while thinking. "hwa seems simple."

"simple is cute."

"sseong, as yunho once said." you laugh, remembering the video of yunho giving each of them a nickname.

"god, no." the man cries out. "next."

"seongie?"

"you can do better."

"ddeongie?"

"oh," he blushes. "i love it."

"then, it's settled." you give yourself a final spin on the chair before stopping to look at him. "ddeongie."

"how's the new manager?"

"not much different than sihun, honestly." you admit.

kevin is as uptight as sihun. the only difference is that kevin cares about schedule more than he cares about rumours among the members and staff. the idol agrees, then goes back to resting as much as he can.

the doors open, causing you to jump out of the chair and stand by seonghwa's side, as if shielding yourself from whoever came in. it is just a member of staff you don't recognize, who greets you politely and starts setting up her own station. three of them come in total, one of them immediately getting to work on seonghwa. the way her hand moves smoothly has you mesmerized. the brush gently glides over his eyelids, making his lashes flutter from the tickling sensation of the bristles.

he doesn't even twitch when the doors open rather violently, two men entering at once and pushing through the tight doorframe. two more familiar faces follow, belonging to gyuri and jaz. seems that mingi and jaz are a pair again. they sing a silly song, each holding one shoe as a microphone. it takes one glance at their feet to realize they took one of each others shoes, and are walking around half barefoot.

"gods, it's five in the morning." seonghwa wakes up from the slumber. he looks like a feverish child, passing out and waking up every few minutes. "idiots."

the two stop for a moment, offering seonghwa a glare. then, their eyes land on you. "y/n?"

"hi, mr jeong. mr song." you stand up, bowing slightly as a greeting. "long time no see."

you wave to jaz and gyuri as well, as they stare back at you with a mix of shock and disbelief. then, they almost jump on you, shielding your body from the rest of the people in the room.

"what the hell are you doing here?" gyuri is the first to ask, while jaz steps away so that mingi and yunho can approach you.

both men settle for a gentle pat on your head, letting the girls bombard you with questions for them. they sit on the makeup chairs next to seonghwa, putting their shoes back on.

"i was hired again." you reply. "i'm seonghwa's assistant."

from there, they pull you aside, interviewing you as if their lives depend on it. seonghwa occasionally tsks them, scolding them for bothering you with personal questions. such as what really happened with you and san, why you left, and will things be weird now. the last one you couldn't answer even if you wanted. you are yet to find out.

little by little, the small room fills with people. new faces emerge alongside familiar ones. they're scattered on the couch, some of them stand by the makeup chairs and vanities, talking to the ones that have to sit still, and some stand near the window, catching a whiff of fresh air. so far, you notice hyori, sooe and eric are the ones that are missing. sihun's doing, you remember. the atmosphere is lively, chatter and laughter echoing inside. caught up in a conversation with hongjoong, you don't notice the door opening.

brown eyes lazily scan the room, searching for the leader so that he can complain about not being woken up to ride with them to the building. when his eyes land on you, he takes a step back, accidentally bumping into his assistant. his heart thumps loud in his chest, drowning the voices around him and making everything play in slow motion. leah yelps behind him, san's heel painfully digging into her toes.

yet san is too deep in thought to hear her yelping. he gawks at you, sitting all pretty and sweet on the armrest of the couch as you speak to hongjoong. you've changed your hair, he notices. nothing drastic, but enough for him to notice. a push on the back finally causes him to step forward, freeing leah of the pain. he doesn't apologize. he simply nudges her away as she tries telling him something, making his way towards you. you don't notice him yet. you listen to hongjoong speak about the achievements you've missed, about moments they felt your absence, about the drama with sihun and how happy they were to get rid of him. a familiar scent of musk and worn leather pulls you out of the conversation, hongjoong's words fading as you shift your attention to the person who emits it.

heartbeat slows down. thoughts rush. hands tremble. san stands before you, framed in black. the compression shirt hugs every contour, and baggy sweatpants hang low on his hips. your mouth goes dry at the sight of his chiseled torso. his hair is tucked under a beanie, not a single strand visible. it seems that every time you see him, he keeps getting bigger.

"mr choi," you greet first, clearing your throat before doing so.

he doesn't move. doesn't speak. not yet.

there's barely a meter of distance between you, but it feels like a canyon. his fingers twitch at his side, aching to close the distance. to touch your face, your hand, anything. he refrains from it, and not due to people in the room. no, he refrains from it to respect you. until you decide it's okay, he will stay away. he will respect your boundaries and wishes. no more convincing. no more wars of push and pull.

"miss l/n." the words leave his mouth. "to what do we owe this pleasant surprise?"

his tongue is pressed against the back of his teeth. he yearns to call you by your name. by your pretty name, which won't leave his mind at any part of the day.

"so uptight, mr choi." you tease, hinting at his choice of words and stiff posture. "much like you, i've also made a comeback."

"oh?" he looks genuinely surprised.

has seonghwa not told him?

"as...?"

"seonghwa's assistant." you say.

hongjoong is silent next to you, cautiously motioning the tense atmosphere leah is creating just by standing there. she is silent, yet the leader can see that san is bothered by her. not only her, but everyone in this room. but san will have to be patient. he can't always get what he wants.

"how... nice." the tone makes it seem like he is convincing himself. he doesn't like the idea one bit, you can tell. "were you the one who chose him? or were you just assigned to him?"

one could cut the tension in the air with scissors. you are happy to have hongjoong next to you, his warmth a comfort compared to san's emotionless gaze. he doesn't say anything. he doesn't need to. san is vary of his words and actions before his captain.

"i picked him." you play along with seonghwa's plan. "and ddeongie agreed."

"ddeongie?" he repeats, disbelief and confusion evident in his voice. "i didn't realize you were on... nickname basis. how fun."

if jealousy were fatal, san would've succumbed to it by now.

leah's eyes flick between you and san, sharp and assessing, as if measuring something she can't quite name. she decides it's time to stop this jolly encounter. the young woman steps forward, clipboard hugged to her chest, her presence subtle but firm. she positions herself just slightly in front of san, not enough to block his view, but enough to get his attention. "can we go over the schedule now?"

san doesn't answer. his gaze stays locked on you, jaw clenched, breath shallow. he hasn't had enough. he wants to soak in your presence and beauty. he wants to fall on his knees for you, give himself to you. hell, he'd be your personal assistant.

"mr choi." leah calls, voice louder and firmer now.

"what?" he snaps out if it. his eyes fall on the schedule, and he sighs. "right."

with a nod towards you, he turns around, following leah to the corner of the room as she speaks about things san doesn't truly care about. as he leans against the wall, he has a clear view of the room. eyes betray him multiple times, landing on you much more than he'd like.

"mr choi—" she tries again, heel tapping against the floor as a quiet warning.

"how did you convince her?" and gets interrupted by san, who has now given his attention to seonghwa. "and why didn't you tell me?"

the man opens one eye to look at san, somewhat tauntingly. "careful, san. you're starting to look very suspicious and jealous for no reason."

san's jaw flexes, the muscle ticking once before he forces a slow exhale through his nose. "i'm not jealous," he says, but the words are too quick. they only make the accusation sound true.

seonghwa's smirk is faint, but it's there. "then stop looking like you are."

leah clears her throat, a pointed reminder that she's still there, still holding the schedule like a shield. san doesn't look at her. his gaze drifts again. uninvited, unstoppable. back to you.

you're laughing at something hongjoong said, head tilted just enough for the light to catch in your hair. and san feels it. that familiar, infuriating pull. like fate has chosen you and only you. heart burns with jealousy as you receive a notification on your phone. you look at the screen, then at seonghwa through the mirror. both of you share a smile. it's a breaking point for san.

he is suffocating, the air too thin to breathe. he storms out of the room. nobody pays him any mind, already used to his odd behaviour since you and melanie left. you feel a pang of guilt, but before you can properly feel it, seonghwa sends you a reassuring message.

park seonghwa: if he wants to play, let him play

park seongwha: don't you dare run after him

y/n: i won't

park seonghwa: good girl

park seonghwa: let him cook in his feelings a little. let him learn to control it. he won't always be able to be near you

y/n: alright :)

park seonghwa: you're doing great. <3

y/n: i feel a little guilty :(

seonghwa rolls his eyes, dramatically. then, they land on you through the mirror, as if scolding you. he offers a glance to hongjoong as well, sending a playful wink, to which hongjoong makes a disgusted sound and avoids looking at the older member.

park seonghwa: patience, tiny

out in the hallway, leah struggles to catch her breath as she finally reaches san. her fury is what is keeping her from fainting. he stops just on top of the stairs, getting ready to go down, but gets pulled back by his elbow and slammed against the wall.

"listen here, choi san." leah's voice has never been this sharp. "i am sick and tired of being ignored and pushed around."

"then maybe you should quit." the man is unfazed by her words. "there are countless people that would be thrilled to be in your position."

the young woman nods, biting her lip. she hides a bitter smirk as she speaks. "people like y/n?"

his gaze snaps to hers, sharp enough to cut. his eye almost twitches as he gives her a look of warning and hatred. "don't say her name. you are unworthy."

"oh, i've hit the nerve," she says, stepping closer until she feels his breath caress her face. "you think you're hiding it, but you're not. every time she looks at him, you look like you're ready to—"

"careful," he warns, voice low, dangerous. "you don't know what you're talking about."

leah laughs once, humorless. "i know exactly what i'm talking about. and so does seonghwa. you're playing right into his hands."

san pushes off the wall, closing the space between them until she has to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. "and you think you're any better? you're just as replaceable as you think i am."

for a beat, neither moves. the air between them is tight, charged. she's struck home, she knows it. yet she doesn't budge. she's tired of being treated like a neglected pet. whether or not san likes her, she still has a job to do. and he is making it very difficult. deep down, she might understand why you left. though, she would never admit it out loud.

"oh! sorry." both turn their heads at the sound, each with a different reaction. san terrified, and leah mischievous. "ddeongie wanted something from the store, i'm just passing by. don't let me interrupt you."

"y/n!" he calls, but you don't spare him a glance, instead disappearing around the corner.

this was bad. very bad. the proximity between san and leah wasn't something one would describe as professional. his hands grab leah by the shoulders, shoving her aside as his feet carry him towards the stairs. she stops him once again, nails digging into his bicep.

"if you go now, you'll be nothing but a desperate puppy whom she can play as she likes."

"she's not like that." he defends.

"you don't know that. you said it yourself, she's changed."

"i was angry. i didn't mean it."

"oh, san." leah sighs. "you dumb fucking fool."

and san doesn't respond. because the worst thing is, she might be right.

"and the worst part?" she catches his attention once more as he makes his way back to the doors of the makeup room. "she's not even trying. you are giving her exactly what she wants. attention, while she remains untouchable. you reaching for her like an idiot, and her playing hard to get and setting imaginary boundaries."

"you know nothing." san spits, even though leah's words plant a seed of doubt in his heart.

𓆩⟡𓆪

the group's schedule had been relentless: rehearsals, shoots and interviews having no end. every time san thought he'd get a quiet moment with you, seonghwa was there. always there. lurking, or standing there in plain sight. if you were grabbing coffee, seonghwa was already holding your cup. if you were packing up after a shoot, seonghwa was helping you carry equipment. if san tried to linger after practice, seonghwa would tap him on the shoulder and say, "come on, we've got work to do." it was starting to feel less like coincidence and more like a blockade.

when san approaches you with a churro during a shooting with seonghwa at the lotte world, he can't help the irritated groan that escapes him when the older male snatches it from his hand, shoving it into his mouth.

"what the hell? that wasn't for you." he complains. seonghwa only shrugs, chewing on the treat. "great."

he glances over at you, heart fluttering at the way the fuzzy backpack hangs from your shoulder. he wishes it was his you're holding, not seonghwa's. you stand by the filming crew, a big bag on the other shoulder, and a cup of half drunk coffee in hand. you don't sit like leah does. on your tippy toes, your eyes follow seonghwa, to the point where san begins feeling rather suspicious. fucking leah.

the crew has given everyone a fifteen minute break while they set up in front of a ride, and san has used it to run and grab a treat for you. now, he sits on the bench, bottom lip sticking out in a pout and hands crossed over his chest. the older man sits beside him, nudging him with his elbow.

"you need to start thinking more, san—ah." seonghwa warns. when the younger one graces him with a confused glance, he sighs. "if it weren't for me, you'd go and give a treat to a single person among the filming crew? how odd does that make you look?"

he might be right. though, san will never admit it out loud. "if you say so."

as he fixes the cat ears on his head, a matching accessory with seonghwa's bunny ones, his eyes inevitably find your figure again, and this time, they lock with yours. he stiffens on the bench, succumbing to your silent dominance you don't even know you exude. as if waiting for an order, he carefully monitors your movements. he even thinks you might just look away, and that this was for naught.

and then, you smile. a smile so soft and gentle, reserved for him only. it reaches your eyes, the skin under them puffing just a bit. and if any trace of suspicion was present in his body, it disappears when you raise your hand to wave at him. an action barely noticeable by others, cute and discreet in your own way. as if in a trance, he raises his hand as well, waving back at you.

it doesn't catch anyone's attention, other than leah's, who only scoffs and rolls her eyes. she passes by you, nudging you with her shoulder and making the bag slide from your shoulder and come down on your elbow. its force causes your arm to jolt, spilling the coffee all over yourself and the ground.

you know it's intentional, even without the smirk leah discreetly gives you as she mutters a sorry. san stands up in the distance, and before seonghwa notices and stands up himself, he is already in front of you.

"are you okay?" he questions, hands twitching by his sides. he wants to help. but at this point, everything makes him look suspicious. "can i help you anyhow?"

"i'll help her!" leah whips her head around, suddenly turning back from her desired journey and grabbing the almost empty cup out of your hand. no, not grabbing. snatching. she earns herself a glare from san, which is short lived once seonghwa arrives by his side.

"don't worry about it, mr choi." your voice is a sweet contrast to leah's bitter one. "luckily, ddeongie likes his coffee watered down and ice cold, right?"

san's jaw ticks just once. enough for seonghwa to catch it. the older man's lips twitch, not quite a smirk but close enough to make san want to look anywhere but at him. he hates that you are already turning away, handing the clipboard to a crew member and crouching to dab at the coffee on your clothes with a wad of napkins leah shoved into your hand.

san takes a half—step forward, the urge to shield you from leah's petty aggression stronger than him, but seonghwa's palm lands lightly on his chest. to anyone else it looks casual. to san it is a wall.

"focus," seonghwa murmurs, eyes still on the ride being prepped for filming. "you are on camera in three minutes."

leah glances over her shoulder, just in time to catch san's glare and meeting it with a slow, satisfied blink before she disappears into the crowd.

the idol exhales through his nose, forcing his hands into his pockets so no one sees them curl into fists. his eyes betray him, tracking you as you straighten up, laugh softly at something a staff member says, and brush a stray hair from your face. the sound of the director calling for positions snaps him back. he turns toward the set, but the thought lingers, heavy and unshakable: you smiled at him first.

the ride ends quicker than they'd like, and soon enough, the two adult men beg their staff to go for another round. the manager agrees, under a condition he does not yet tell them. once off the ride, and on the way to the next stop, the men don't suspect anything.

until they see it: the haunted house. san groans out loud, followed by seonghwa scrunching his nose and smiling uncomfortably. "why?!"

"it'll be fun to put two loud members in there." kevin shrugs. he makes his way over to you, shoving a gopro in your hand as well as leah's. "you're going in with them."

it is leah's turn to groan, and yours to gasp. "us? why?"

"the reactions will be more genuine with less people and the staff they spend the most time with instead."

the crew takes another twenty minute break to set up. the gopros are in your hands, ready to use. they're not on yet, you notice. the red blinking light is missing. luckily, because as seonghwa and san approach the two of you, you are reminded that you need to watch your words and behaviour. after all, it'll all be on video.

"aren't you uncomfortable in that soggy shirt, tiny?" seonghwa's voice is laced with worry. as you shake your head, a shiver betrays you, and seonghwa doesn't think twice before taking the school uniform jacket off and placing it on your shoulders. he helps your arms in the sleeves, then fixes the collar. finally, he pats your head. "there. all pretty again."

san is fuming. he is complimenting you right under his nose. letting you wear his clothes, while san stands there knowing damn well he can't move a finger without being suspicious. to make matters worse, san's brain has an odd way of thinking. instead of letting it go, he takes off his own jacket, and covers leah with it.

the faint scent of seonghwa's cologne calms your nerves. it isn't about the jacket. no, it's about the way san looks at you when he puts it on her. as if you and seonghwa had this planned. you did agree on teasing him, but not everything was calculated. san is treating this like a competition. and it's starting to get on your nerves again. it feels as if you are taking one step forward, and two steps back.

"thank you, ddeongie. what would i do without you?" you say with a tired sigh. you mean it, truly. not to taunt san. it's a genuine gratitude towards seonghwa, for being by your side through this and giving you comfort. his signature soft smile dances on his lips as his finger taps your nose. it has become a habit of his to do that.

"kevin, are we ready?" he yells.

in no time, the doors are shut behind you once you enter. the light blinks red in your hand through the foggy air. the house smells dusty, like an attic. oddly enough, you enjoy that smell. the narrow hallway forces you into a line: seonghwa in front, then you, then leah, and san at the back. the first few scares are predictable: flickering lights, sudden bangs, and a distant laugh. leah's constant flinching keeps her bumping into you. every time san tries to close the gap, and comes within your reach, she stops short, forcing him to steady her instead. then, at a corner where the path widens, seonghwa glances back. his eyes flick from san to you, squinted, calculated. then to leah.

"hey, leah," he says casually, "come up here for a second. could you hold the light while i film this next bit?"

leah hesitates, but seonghwa's already ushering her forward. she squeezes past you, muttering something about hating haunted houses, and suddenly it's just you and san in the back.

you're still adjusting your grip on the gopro when a costumed actor bursts from a hidden panel. seonghwa and leah shriek, then run for their lives as the actor chases them down the hallway around the corner. you jump, the camera slipping from your hands. it clatters to the floor, the blinking red light going dark.

"shit," you breathe, crouching to grab it. san's already there, his hand brushing yours in the dark as he picks it up. "thanks."

"let me see," he says, voice low. he turns the camera over in his hands, frowning. "it's off. might've hit the button when it fell."

the hallway ahead is empty now, the others' voices muffled somewhere deeper inside. the only light comes from a flickering lantern above, casting warm shadows across san's face.

"guess we're off the record for a minute," you murmur.

something in his expression changes — the tension in his shoulders easing, his gaze softening. "i guess. we deserve a moment of freedom, don't we?"

you tilt your head. "what do you mean?"

he hesitates, eyes searching yours. "i mean... you can drop the act. with seonghwa. or are you really that good with him?"

you blink, then sigh. "not everything is about you, mr choi."

"mr choi..." he huffs a quiet laugh, but doesn't step back. the space between you shrinks until you can feel the warmth of his breath in the cool air. his eyes drop to your lips for just a second. enough to make your pulse jump. "gods, you're so pretty."

you don't move away. not yet. the wall is cold against your back, even though layers of your sweater and seonghwa's jacket try their best to shield it.

"you're as pretty as the day i lost you." san's hand lifts, fingers brushing your cheek, tentative but certain enough to make his intent clear. you let him get close. close enough that the next breath might close the gap before you lay your hand gently on his chest. he flinches, hand flying to cover yours in a desperate attempt to keep you where you are. "no, please..."

"not here," you say softly. "not yet."

it's not rejection. it's a promise. he sighs in defeat, eyes squeezing shut. his hands lay flat against the wall beside your head, supporting his body as his forehead leans against yours. his breath is a gentle caress on your face, the smell of chocolate and coffee overpowering the one of dust and borderline mold in the house. "i'm weaker than you think, y/n. taehwan... he doesn't deserve you."

"sannie," you place a hand on his cheek. he opens his eyes, alert. "i'm not with taehwan anymore. we broke up."

"you did?" he hates how hopeful and relieved he sounds. "why?"

"it doesn't matter now, does it? i'm here. turning a new page. or old page, better said."

one hand slides from the wall to your waist, softly pulling your body so that it leans into his. you chase his warmth and comfort, a bit too quick for your liking. you feel his chest below your touch, hand now loosely planted over his top. you glance at the gopro, hoping it doesn't work. not even seonghwa could save you from this if it got filmed.

"let's go before leah burns the house down." you wish to gently nudge him away. he doesn't budge. skin burns under his touch as his knuckles trace your jawline. "san, please."

"of course." he breaks free from the trance. "i'm sorry for overstepping."

your response is non verbal; a gentle caress of his cheek and a kiss on it as you step past him, the gopro now blinking red again in your hand. he follows, a few steps behind, and though the haunted house is still full of scares, nothing makes his heart race quite like you. turning around the corner, you come in contact face first with seonghwa's chest. his hands fly to your arms, steading you in a hug. "there you are!"

"sorry, didn't see you there." you have to tilt your head backwards to look at him. you often forget how tall he is until you stand right next to him. "where's leah?"

"right here. don't worry, you won't get rid of me that easily." she mumbles, pushing past the two of you so that she can approach san.

before you can say that you did not mean it that way, seonghwa takes your hand in his, holding the gopro for you in a way that it films only the space in front of you. he doesn't intertwine his fingers with yours. the hold feels rather... homey. like a big brother hold.

for the next twenty minutes it takes for the four of you to find the exit, not a single time were you separated. seonghwa skillfully dodges the actors, running down the hallways and through various rooms. it makes you think that the first time one of the actors jumped out, seonghwa used it as an excuse to leave san and you alone. you don't mind. once out, catching your breath and adjusting your eyes to the amusement park lights, you finally let go of both seonghwa's hand and the gopro.

"we'll take a half hour dinner break!" kevin announces as he glares at you for dropping the gadget on the ground. "i want you back here at ten o'clock sharp. both of you."

leah does what she knows best: rolls her eyes, then storms off.

one time long ago, you thought leah as your equal. forced to be with bratty san, putting up with his confessions and whatnot. even felt sorry for her when san kissed her. you're not sure whether that situation has turned her the way she is. was she always this annoying and mean? is san attracted to people who are mean to him? that used to be wooyoung's trait.

"what are we feeling? ramen in a cup? corndogs? churros?" seonghwa starts walking first, taking his place by the side san had intended. the younger man gets pushed aside, the older one blocking him from reaching you and seeing you. to make things worse, seonghwa takes the rabbit ears off his head and places them on yours. "carrots for the cute bunny?"

san thinks you'd suit the cat ears more. he doesn't like this one bit. seonghwa is trying to get under his skin, undoubtedly. he is teaching him a lesson in patience in a rather cruel way. nicknames, touches, jokes. he hates the way his body reacts to it all. he doesn't know what hurts more: seonghwa doing things to you san only wishes, or you enjoying and encouraging it.

the scent of frying batter drifts through the cool night air, mixing with the faint sweetness of cotton candy. it helps you decide just what you want. "corndogs."

"ah, as if i knew it." just as he says the words, the three of you find yourselves standing in front of a corndog stand. he doesn't ask san whether he wants something else. and san doesn't protest. "six corndogs, please."

"six?!" you almost shout.

"two each. come on, tiny. you need energy to finish the shoot."

you can't argue with that.

the vendor hands over the paper trays, steam curling into the cool night air. san has already sat down on a bench beneath a tree, hidden from the warm lights. you linger near him, unsure what to do with yourself as seonghwa pays for the food. he passes you yours first, then san's, before taking his own and finding his spot leaning against a lamp post. he's close enough to see you, far enough to give the illusion of privacy. the bench is cold when you sit down. san notices. why did he have to give his jacket to leah? he watches carefully as you take a bite, the crunch giving way to molten cheese that stretches in a long ribbon. you try to bite it clean, but it clings stubbornly, swaying between your mouth and the corndog.

san's laugh is low, warm. "hold still."

before you can ask why, he leans in and catches the strand with his teeth, snapping it clean. for a second, you're frozen. his face is close enough that you can see the faint sheen of oil on his lips, the way his eyes flicker to yours before he leans back.

"you're ridiculous," you say, but your voice is softer than you mean it to be.

"and you're smiling," he counters, smug but quiet, like it's a secret just for the two of you.

you roll your eyes and take another bite, but this time the cheese pull is even longer. san's hand twitches like he might lean in again, but he stops himself, settling for watching you instead.

from his spot, seonghwa pretends to scroll his phone as he chews his own food, but you catch the faintest curve of a smile on his face.

"how is leah treating you?"

the idol groans. "i just forgot about her. why would you do this to me?"

"i'm just concerned." you shrug. "she seems..."

"annoying? mean? bitter? the most icky person you've ever met?" he graces her with compliments.

"and you're a ray of sunshine." the eyeroll that comes with the words is earned. he doesn't say anything. the smile on his lips grows. it gives you a green light to continue. "not to be paranoid, but... she is giving me melanie vibes."

"ah." he nods, fidgeting with the stick of the half eaten corndog. "leah is all words. no action. she isn't a threat. i think."

"it's good to be careful either way."

leah gives you odd vibes. you don't like it. other than the casual mean girl behaviour, you cannot find anything unusual about her. it irks you, because to everyone else, she is a sweetheart and a darling. as soon as she turns to you, it's only scoffs and condescending words.

san's eyes keep flicking to the rabbit ears on your head. they're cute. too cute. and they're seonghwa's. it gnaws at him in a way he can't quite hide. as you finish the last bite of your corndog, he shifts closer, holding something out. the black cat ears dangle from his fingers, the headband still warm from where it rested on top of his head.

"these suit you better," he says, voice low.

you blink at him, mid—chew. "what?"

before you can protest, he steps in, careful but deliberate, sliding the rabbit ears off your head. his fingers brush your hairline, lingering just a second too long before he settles the cat ears in their place.

"there," he murmurs, leaning back to take you in. "all pretty."

"copycat." you look away, hiding your blushing under a teasing comment.

"what?"

"you're competing with with hwa. the ears, the compliment."

"it's not a competition." he sulks. "not when i can be the only winner."

"so far up your ass as usual, mr choi."

he cringes at the name. he hates it with all his being. "sannie."

"we're not doing this again." you warn. to your surprise, he settles down. the pout is still visible, and his brows still furrowed. he doesn't protest. not when you tug at his bottom lip, and not when the tips of your nails gently graze the skin under his chin, the light tickle comforting.

the hum of the carousel drifts over from somewhere behind you, its music faint under the chatter of the crowd. his breath stills under your touch, and for a moment, the glow from the park lights makes the furrow in his brow look almost soft.

"i have to go back now." you say with a heavy heart, standing up while he stays sitting.

"i'm tired." he admits. "i want to sleep on this bench."

you laugh. he does look pretty exhausted. his hair is already a mess, and you can't help but run your fingers through it, taming the soft locks so that they gently fall over his half closed eyes. "it'll be over soon."

"mmh." he hums, eyes closing completely as he savours every touch and caress you give him. his hands find comfort in fidgeting with the ends of seonghwa's jacket on you, subconsciously pulling you closer so that you stand between his legs. "soon isn't soon enough."

"sannie." you break your own words. it seems to be the only way to make him listen. eyelids reveal shiny brown orbs that stare at you, anticipating your next words. "be a good boy for me."

it activates something within him. his ears perk up, much like a cat's. cheeks flushed, and eyes slowly blinking, san doesn't know how to respond. his body burns under your touch, and hands itch to slide under your top just enough to feel your skin on his.

"will you?" you wake him up.

"huh?" he is utterly lost in your gaze.

"will you be a good boy for me?" you repeat, the words sending shivers down his spine and making the hairs on his body stand up straight.

"yes." he responds rather quickly. as if a delay might make you think of this whole exchange as cringe or weird. he can't allow it. not while he enjoys being under your spell. "yes, i will."

"good."

𓆩⟡𓆪

san is not sure how he got here. he only knows that you're close. too close.

there's the faint scent of your shampoo, the warmth of your breath against his ear, the soft press of your hand against his chest. you're saying something, but the words are muffled, like you're speaking underwater. still, the tone is unmistakable. low, certain, the way you sound when you want him to listen.

the scent of berries and white chocolate envelops him. plays with his emotions, unveils his buried desires. his pulse stutters. you lean in, your fingers brushing the side of his neck, and the world narrows to the heat of your touch and the way his name sounds in your mouth.

"sannie."

a mere sigh against his skin, breath a hot caress against his ear shell.

"my good, good boy." you praise. he shivers under the graze of your nails against his chest, lips chasing your neck and shoulders. "always so good for me."

he blinks, and the hotel room is dark. the sheets are twisted around his legs, his skin coated in a thin layer of sweat, his breathing uneven. the echo of your voice lingers, curling in his chest until it's unbearable.

you? not in his arms. vanished in thin air.

before he can think better, he's reaching for his phone. you answer on the third ring, voice thick with sleep. "san? it's... three in the morning."

"i know," he says, his voice low and hoarse. "i just... needed to hear you."

there's a pause, the sound of you shifting under your covers. "you sound odd."

"do i?"

you hum sleepily. "go back to sleep, sannie."

"i can't sleep." he admits. fingers play with the hem of his undershirt, dangerously close to an aching area. "are you very sleepy?"

"mmh." the sweet sigh you emit doesn't help his case. "yeah."

"okay..." he fails to hide the disappointment. he doesn't hang up yet. neither do you. the sound of your soft breathing into the phone takes him back to the dream. he called you to distract him, not drag him back into the sinful dream.

fingers graze the top stitch of his underwear. the material is tight, suffocating. he won't do it. it's wrong. doing that while you are unaware means disrespecting you, and that's the last thing san wants to do. but the more you sleepily hum and breathe on the phone, the less control he has.

"sannie?" his name is forbidden fruit on your lips. he doesn't manage to reply before getting stunned by your next words. "are you being a naughty boy?"

he chokes on his own spit, body jerking so he sits up. his back leans against the headboard. the last atoms of sleepiness disappear, mind and heart now fully alert. ready to submit to you.

"i asked you a question." though quiet, your voice is firm. "are you being a naughty boy?"

"no." he denies.

"you're not?" you push. you know he isn't. but there is a reason why he called you so late at night, voice all hoarse and breathless. and you'll die if you don't take the chance to tease him. "you're being good, like i asked you to?"

"of course."

you hum again, the sound curling warm in his ear like a ribbon of heat winding straight down his spine. "good."

he swallows, the word settling in his chest like a weight and a reward at the same time. the quiet between you is not empty. it is filled with the faint rustle of your sheets, the soft hitch of your breathing, and the sleepy drag in your voice.

"then," you continue, your tone dipping just enough to make his pulse jump, "you can do something for me."

"anything," he says too quickly, voice reeking of desperation.

"close your eyes."

he obeys instantly, lashes fluttering shut, the darkness behind them still painted with the image of you sprawled out on his bed. body hidden by sheets, the scent of berries lingering wherever you touch. he can almost smell it right now. the faint taste of the pepero is on his tongue, and like dark magic, his fingers lift to touch his lips. a faint graze, yet they're so sensitive he shudders against his own touch.

"breathe in," you instruct, and he does, filling his lungs until it almost hurts. the air feels heavier now, thick with the scent of his own skin.

"and out."

the rhythm steadies him, but it does not cool the heat prickling under his skin. he drops the phone after putting you on speaker. fingers of his now free hand curl into the sheets, trying to ground him. it's tough, hearing your voice like a fantasy song in the dark of this forsaken night. had seonghwa or hongjoong heard him, they'd mock him. but what else is this night, when you're not here?

"think about something nice," you murmur. "something that makes you feel calm."

his mind betrays him. it is you, always you, standing too close and saying his name like it belongs to you. like he belongs to you.

"are you doing it?"

"mm," he manages, voice growing quieter with each minute that passes.

"good boy."

the praise lands like a spark and his grip on the phone tightens.

"now," you say, softer still, "you are going to sleep. and you are going to be good for me until morning."

he wants to argue, to keep you on the line, to ask for more. the firmness in your tone makes it impossible. "yes," he says instead.

"good night, sannie."

"good night,..." he hesitates. the familiar nickname is at the tip of his tongue. he may ruin this. he may make this better. he takes the risk. "...princess."

a fond chuckle meets his ears, and san's heart finally rests. one step at a time, you had said. and you were right. impatience has brought out the worst in him, and has pushed you away. now, by letting you have full control over the situation, he realizes his mistakes. and he won't do them again.

"obedient kitty." he feels you smile as you say it. he is too stunned to reply. "good night."

the line clicks dead. he is left in the dark with the phone laying beside him and his heart pounding. the room feels too big without your voice in it. he lies back, staring at the ceiling, phone pressed to his chest as if hugging you. the echo of your words loops in his head until they are the only thing keeping him awake. the sun is peeking at the horizon when san finally falls asleep.

the next time he wakes up, it is by his alarm clock. not dreams of you. he doesn't like it.

𓆩⟡𓆪

the practice room is alive with energy. it reeks of sweat and isotonic drinks, and is filled with shoes dragging across the floor, creating squeaking noises and black lines which cleaners will have to scrub later. the choreography is intense, and sensual. you sit on the bench, watching them through the mirror. the eight men are dressed casually, each wearing sweats and tank tops and compression shirts. their faces and moves don't match the casual vibe of their clothes. they are intense, calculated, and precise.

you don't utter a single word, too focused on keeping your jaw from dropping on the floor. you are the first atiny to witness the song and choreography. you are having a difficult time keeping your sanity. wooyoung is reminding you just why he was your bias. it is odd seeing seonghwa so serious. you don't mind. his eyes hold power, such that it has given you a habit you've never had before: biting your nails.

yunho decides it's enough for the day, clapping his hands and rushing to his towel. gyuri holds his drink out for him, and he almost snatches it from her, emptying the bottle in seconds.

"hey." seonghwa calls in front of you. his finger finds its place below your chin, then gently pushes upwards. you didn't even notice you failed at your task. fuck. "i'll take that as a compliment."

"don't even." you playfully throw the towel at him. he catches it, dabbing his face with it until it's dry. leah has stood up in the meantime, meeting san halfway to deliver his drink and towel as well, leaving seonghwa and you to have a private moment. you see the mischief glimmer in his eyes. "what?"

"well... we are done." he says. there's more to it, you know it. you don't give him the satisfaction of asking. he continues, "san will practice his solo song now."

"oh?" you are intrigued. you've heard almost all of their solo songs. san's is the only one you haven't heard yet. "and?"

"do you want to stay and watch?" he offers. and just how do you decline, when san looks ravishing in grey sweats and a tank top that hugs his torso and reveals his biceps? seonghwa bites his tongue as he sticks it out at you. "perv."

"highly inappropriate, mr park." you smack his shoulder, soft enough to not hurt him but firm enough to warn him. "and what will my excuse be?"

"i'll stay with you. don't worry about the rest."

the members and their assistants exit one by one, until only the four of you are left. leah is puzzled, and maybe a tad bit disappointed, seeing that she won't get her alone time with san. the younger idol sends the older one a confused glance, to which seonghwa responds with a wink you don't miss. san then glances at you, and immediately, his cheeks flush. his eyes imagine the cat ears on top of your head. he has officially lost it.

"san—ah. fighting!" seonghwa calms him, grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking any jitters off.

"yeah, sannie. fighting!" leah has chosen to be bold today, it seems. the young man only spares her a glance, resisting the urge to scold her for using the nickname that belongs to you only.

san stretches in the middle of the practice room, rolling his shoulders, the fabric of his tank top shifting with each movement. when he glances over and meets your gaze, his cheeks flush almost instantly. you look away, pretending to adjust your phone, but the warmth in your chest betrays you.

the music starts, slow. sensual. the bass hums low through the floor, each beat a slow pulse in your chest. san moves like the music is pulling him by invisible strings. fluid, every shift of his weight calculated.

you try to watch through the mirror like others, but his gaze finds yours almost immediately. it's not a glance. it's a hold. he turns with the beat, hand dragging slowly across his chest, and his eyes never leave yours. the movement is part of the choreography, you know that, but the way he does it feels personal.

seonghwa leans against the wall beside you, arms crossed, pretending not to notice. leah lingers by the watercooler, refilling his bottle, but her reflection in the mirror shows her watching the two of you more than the dance.

san drops into a slow roll of his shoulders, the fabric of his tank top stretching across his back. when he straightens, his head tilts just slightly, like he's daring you to look away.

you don't.

the song builds, and he steps forward on the beat, closing the space between himself and the mirror. his palm presses flat against it, right where your reflection sits.

your breath catches.

he smirks. small, fleeting, before spinning away into the next move, leaving you with the echo of his eyes on yours long after the music swallows him again.

you're not sure when the music stops. in your head, it is still playing. his voice as velvety and sensual as his moves. it has you utterly mesmerized, to the point where seonghwa has to wave his hand in front of your face to get your attention.

"huh?" you reply, eyes still fixed on san's figure.

"i said, i'm going to get food for myself. you want anything?"

you finally look at seonghwa, and jolt. it seems easy to forget that you are here to work for seonghwa, not live out a fanfiction you have read somewhere once upon a time. "i'll do it. just tell me what you want."

"not a chance. your head hurts, remember? what if you fall and hurt yourself while getting to the shop?"

san is readying himself for one more try, not very satisfied with the first one. worry paints his features, hearing seonghwa's words to you. your head doesn't hurt. you are fine. thankfully, you aren't a fool, and you understand what seonghwa wants to do. the familiar glint in his eyes says it all, and you play along. "i didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

"you sit there, have some of my water. leah and i will go get the food. san wanted his usual. do you want anything?" you shake your head with a smile. seonghwa seems to have control over everything. he doesn't allow leah to protest, one look at her enough to make her silently take her bag and wait by the door. his power should be studied. when he said he'd protect you, he meant it. and all you can do is look at him in awe as he winks at you, ruffling your hair and making his way out. "we'll be right back!"

the door clicks shut behind them, and the room feels bigger and smaller all at once. the echo of the bass from his song still hums in your chest. san is stretching again, but his eyes keep flicking your way, like he's not sure where to start. so you do.

"you look tired." you notice the dark circles under his eyes. "you really couldn't sleep last night, huh?"

"yeah..." he trails.

"bad dreams?" you tease.

he gives you a squinted look, before getting into position. your voice calls him, tone softer than ever. like a marionette, his body follows the invisible strings of your hands, doing as you say. until he stands in front of you, eyes trying their best to stay wide open.

"sit." the word hangs in the air for a moment, and then he lowers himself onto the floor. he doesn't sit. he kneels in front of you. "oh, sannie."

breath hitches when your hands come in contact with his face. it fits just right, as if he was molded to your liking. he melts in your arms, body seeking comfort. peace that only you can offer. "i'm tired."

"i know, sweetie." you know what he means. he is tired of being patient. one hand brushes the bangs out of his face as the other one cradles his chin, holding his head up so that you can take a proper look at his flushed face. "you've been so good for me, haven't you?"

"i think i have..."

"of course you have. my patient, pretty boy." and there it is. the words of confirmation he needed. slowly, but surely, he is getting somewhere. you aren't pushing him away. instead, you are inviting him into your space. his hands settle on your thighs, warm and steady, grounding himself in your presence as if you're the only thing keeping him upright.

the room is quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. the scent of his skin lingers between you, faint traces of sweat and deodorant. your thumb brushes over the curve of his cheekbone, and his lips part just slightly, as if to speak, though no words come out. the finger drops to his bottom lip, a ghost touch against it. instinctively, san's tongue peeks out to wet it.

he wets your finger in the process, and any wall you had up shatters to the ground. pupils widen, breathing becomes shallow as the tip of your nose brushes his, and the air doesn't seem enough to keep you alive. you inch closer, until the only thing separating you is your thumb on his lip.

"princess..." he sighs, eyes closing as your breath caresses his skin and makes his lashes flutter.

"hmm?"

"i swear i am trying my best. i truly am. but i'm afraid i can't take it anymore." his voice is hoarse as he talks against your finger. "if i don't kiss you right now, i will die on this floor."

"so dramatic." you chuckle. "for no reason."

even though you remove your hand from his face, only to intertwine your fingers with soft locks of his hair, you don't move yet. it is a slow torture for san, watching you bite your lip when he should be the one doing it instead. he moves first, his heart taking control over his mind. it is sudden enough to make your breath catch, but not rough, not rushed. his hands slide from your thighs to your hips, steady and warm, and he leans in until his forehead rests against yours.

his eyes search yours, waiting for any indication of anger or disappointment. you do not pull away. you do not react.

he closes the last inch himself, lips brushing yours in a sweet kiss that is more question than demand. you let him have it, soft and slow, your fingers tightening just slightly in his hair to keep him there. he deepens it by a fraction, testing, and you respond with the faintest tilt of your head, granting him more. the pace is yours to give, and he follows it without hesitation.

there is hunger in his eyes when you pull away. he whines. you pull at his hair as a warning, which only makes the situation worse. he moans. a high pitched moan, igniting a fire within you. he may have self control and patience, but you can't say the same about you. not anymore.

his hands slide higher along your hips, fingers curling just enough to hold you in place as he leans in. plump red lips capture yours again. they are hot, and plush on yours. the kiss he gives you now is deeper, hungrier, but it still waits for your answer. you give it to him in the smallest ways. the way your lips part just enough for him to taste you, the way your fingers tighten in his hair and guide his head closer to you. he follows every cue, matching your rhythm, never pushing past what you allow.

the heat between you builds in slow waves, each one stronger than the last, until you pull back just slightly. his breath is uneven, his eyes dark and fixed on yours, but he doesn't chase the space you've created. a thin string of saliva connects your lips, yours now as swollen and red as his. it takes you a while to collect yourself.

"you still taste the same." he praises. "got any pepero sticks in your bag?"

you laugh, because he is right. the berry and chocolate sticks are hidden in your bag, among seonghwa's belongings. "why, you want some?"

"i could use one or two. tomorrow night."

you raise an eyebrow with confusion. "tomorrow night?"

"if you... i mean, if you want."

"if i want what, mr choi?"

another whine leaves his pretty lips, this time one of dissatisfaction rather than pleasure. he looks away, avoiding your piercing gaze. "the next time i hear those two words i'll get a rash. i meant... if you want to come over. we could watch a movie or something."

fingers pull at his hair again, causing him to yelp and look back into your eyes. "then ask me. nicely. and maybe i'll think about it."

"will you go on a date with me?" he blurts out. as if you'll change your mind if he says it any slower. "my place. i'll bring all the red bull and pepero your heart could want."

"a date?"

"yes. a proper date."

"i'll think about it."

"but—" his shoulders drop, and his lip sticks out in a pout that is dear to your heart.

"i said," you press a kiss to his forehead, then stand up, leaving him to kneel on the floor. "i'll think about it."

𓆩⟡𓆪

the day after, at ten in the evening sharp, you walk behind seonghwa as he sneaks you into the dorms. the hallway is dim and still, the only sound the soft thud of your footsteps behind seonghwa and rustling of the bag of snacks. the faint scent of detergent and takeaway food lingers behind closed doors. you keep your head down, though you know no one would dare question him if they saw you. he stops at the last door on the left, knocking twice before pushing it open without waiting for an answer.

san is there. hair damp, hoodie hanging loose over his frame, a can of red bull already in one hand. his eyes widen when he sees you, and for a moment he just stands there, like he's not sure if you're real.

"you came," he says, relief washing over his features.

"i said i'd think about it," you reply, stepping past seonghwa into the room and setting the bag on the desk.

san's mouth curves, slow and genuine, as he sets the can next to your bag. "guess i should've bought more pepero."

"yuck." seonghwa teases. "do be quiet, please? mingi is sleeping, and hongjoong is passed out on the couch for some reason."

"will do, ddeongie." you reply sweetly. "thank you. i owe you so much."

"don't be silly." slender fingers rest on top of your head, patting it a few times. "have fun... watching the movie, i guess."

before any of you two can reply, seonghwa shuts the door. finally alone, you have a chance to see his room. you've seen it in various lives, many times. it comes with a scent that you cannot describe as anything else but choi san. cologne, fresh bedsheets, and worn leather. he wears the hood over his head, much like the night when he visited you.

"hi." you greet. his shoulders relax upon seeing your smile. "i see you started without me."

the green red bull can sits empty on the desk. you can't believe you hooked him to the energy drink. when he doesn't respond, you pass by him, shoulder barely brushing him as you plop on the bed. immediately, it engulfs you: invisible strings of musk and faint manly sweat wrap around your body. the pillow is soft beneath your head. if he ever tells you that he couldn't sleep, you won't believe him. not when he has a bed like this.

"so..."

"oh, what's that?" you point at something shiny at the desk. you know exactly what it is. you just wish to see him squirm.

"i— oh, seonghwa. i'm going to kill him." he grabs the packet loosely, the foil crinkling as it unwraps into a sealed row. "i—"

"that is very responsible of you, sannie. protection is important." your tone is calm, but the curve of your mouth gives you away.

he shoves the condoms into the drawer of his nightstand and shuts it a little too quickly, as if speed could erase the moment. you think it's cute. he, however, feels as if he already lost the little dignity he had left. "what do you feel like watching?"

"aren't you going to show me around the room?" you give him the prettiest eyes you can, causing him to scratch the back of his neck and look away while blushing.

"sure... it's not much, i mean." he gestures vaguely around the room, as if the walls might speak for themselves. "that's my desk... obviously. and uh, closet's over there. bed's here. you're already in it."

you hum, eyes scanning the space like you're appraising it. "no posters? no secret stash of snacks? oh, headboard lights! how do you turn them on?"

"the snacks hey're in the drawer under the bed." he admits, then winces. "not secret. just... convenient."

you reach down, fingers brushing the edge of the drawer, and pull it open. a few crumpled wrappers, a half—eaten bag of gummies, and—

"another red bull?" you tease, holding up the green can.

he groans, then steps toward you and the bed. "i swear i'm not addicted."

"mm. we'll see." you crack it open, the hiss sharp in the quiet.he watches you, eyes flicking to your lips as you take a slow sip. then, without a word, you lean in and press the can to his mouth. "your turn."

san leans in, eyes locked with yours. his fingers wrap themselves around your wrist, gently pulling the can away before his other hand cups your cheek. his head tilts, as does yours. lips barely graze yours, tongue already softly begging permission by wetting your lips. you allow him, parting them just enough for the hot muscle to find yours. it's a dance, not a battle.

you pull away first, a teasing smirk already on your face. "not addicted, you say."

"mmm," he hums, eyes still closed as he savours the taste of you mixed with the elderflower energy drink. "i'm addicted to you."

"you softie." with that, you pull him on the bed with you, while cautious of the can so you don't spill it. he lands on his elbows, careful not to squish you with his weight. "you are so red in the face. are you okay?"

"am i okay?" he repeats. "you showed up here, all dolled up and with that pretty hair, teasing me since you entered the room. i'm here looking like a bum. you know what? i'm going to change."

and you let him. you let him run away, but not before he rummages through his closet and digs a new outfit out. he disappears without a word, leaving you on the bed to wonder whether you're being harsh on him. you don't wish to torture him, truly. he is just that sensitive. and you love that about him.

boredom makes the best of you, with san being gone for a bit longer than you expected. you don't mean to snoop through his drawers. you don't mean to find an empty can of red bull with a lip gloss print at the opening. your lip gloss, and your red bull. you wonder when he had the time to snatch the can and tell sihun. you don't mean to find the aniteez plushy cutely tucked under the covers.

most of all, you don't mean to slide open his closet. you don't mean to deeply inhale the scent of laundry detergent and san himself that hits you. you don't mean to feel the soft fabric of neatly folded hoodies and t-shirts under your fingers. and certainly, you don't mean to pull out a white t-shirt. discard your clothes. leave only your underwear on. pull the fresh fabric over your head, until it falls just below the curve of your bum and touches your thighs.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the window. the garment is loose, san's broad form stretching the material out. the setting itself intoxicates you. this is san's space, and you are in it. there is pieces of you everywhere, from the can to the familiar coat that hangs by the door. the very one he said he never washed, because you wore it once and it smelled like you.

there isn't much to discover anymore, so you opt for setting sandeoki free from his nap. just as you take it into your hands, the door opens. san stops dead in the doorway, wearing a black tank top and black sweatpants. the plushie is pressed to your chest like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't, but it's not the toy that steals the air from his lungs. it's his shirt on you. the hem brushing your thighs. the way it hangs loose, swallowing you whole and still managing to make him feel like he's seeing too much. his fingers tighten on the doorknob. his mouth opens but nothing comes out at first. you tilt your head, eyes pretty and anticipating, and he swears his pulse is in his ears.

"i..." he swallows, tries again. "are you trying to murder me tonight?"

there are footsteps in the hallway. instinct kicks in and he shuts the door quickly, leaning back against it as if to keep the rest of the world out. his heart is still racing, and he knows it has nothing to do with the walk from the kitchen.

"i hope you don't mind. i was feeling hot as well." you innocently point at the neatly folded clothes you had spent forever picking back in your room. countless selfies sent to seonghwa, him being the first to ask about it, and finally deciding the outfit, only for it to end up discarded and replaced. he doesn't respond. body frozen against the door, all he can do is gawk as you lower the plushy so that it hangs beside you in your hand. eyes inevitably land on your bare legs, and san audibly shudders. "i'll change if you do mind..."

"no!" the word comes out louder than he intended.

"so you don't mind?"

he doesn't answer right away. just stands there, eyes tracing the curve of your legs, the way his shirt clings to your frame like it's memorizing you. then, slowly, he pushes off the door. each step feels deliberate, like he's afraid to break whatever spell you've cast. you stay still, plushie dangling from your fingers, watching him close the space between you. his hand reaches out, brushing the hem of the shirt near your thigh. he doesn't look up. not yet.

"you look..." he starts, voice barely audible. "like you belong here."

you smile, soft and sure. "i do."

he finally meets your eyes. something in him shifts. the hesitation melts into something warmer, deeper. his fingers trail up, grazing your waist over the fabric, then settle at your hips. he leans in, forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

"can i kiss you again?" he asks, like it's sacred.

you nod, and this time, it's slower. lips move with precision, as if calculated ages ago and he can finally show it off. no teasing, no games. just warmth, and want. he holds you like you'll perish if he loosens his grip. like you'll run away again. the plushie falls with a thud on the bed as you throw it, and your hands reach for his. you guide them back to the hem of the t-shirt, then slide them underneath. calloused fingers are rough against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. choi san is one of the rare idols who don't have long slender fingers. you find his short and thick fingers much cuter. it seems as if they were made for holding you. san's lips linger on yours, slow and reverent, like he's afraid to let go. when he finally does, it's only to rest his forehead against yours again, breath warm and uneven. hands stay beneath the shirt, fingers tracing imaginary lines, memorizing you in silence.

"don't let go," you whisper.

"i won't," he says, voice low. his arms tighten around you instantly, like the words unlocked something he'd been holding back. "not unless you ak me to."

you both sink onto the bed, limbs tangled, the plushie forgotten on the floor. san's hand abandons you, only to find a switch above his head. the headboard lights cast a soft glow over your faces, golden and gentle, like the room itself is holding its breath. he brushes a strand of hair from your face, thumb grazing your cheek.

"you're dangerous," he murmurs again, but this time it sounds like a confession. "you make me feel everything all at once."

you smile, eyes half-lidded. "good. i want you to feel me."

he exhales, a sound that's half laugh, half surrender. "i do. i feel you everywhere."

"then," you trail, nails grazing the line on his neck, from his jaw to his collarbones. "let me feel you as well."

"what do you—" his breath catches in the middle of the sentence as you straddle him, the curve of your bum positioned on his crotch. his hands instinctively find their spot on your thighs. "what do you mean?"

"let me feel you," you repeat, softer this time. you lean in, fingers brushing the hem of his tank top. "all of you."

he doesn't speak. just nods, eyes locked on yours, lips parted like he's forgotten how to breathe. his head drops comfortably on the pillow as you lift the fabric slowly, deliberately, revealing inch after inch of warm skin. his chest rises beneath your touch, muscles tense. when the tank top is gone, you toss it aside, and he's left bare beneath you. sun kissed, illuminated by the lights above his head, san looks like a feast. your hands explore him like he's something sacred. fingers trace the lines of his collarbones, the dip between his ribs, the soft curve of his stomach. he shivers, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting in quiet awe.

"you're unreal," you whisper. you lean down, lips brushing his neck, then his shoulder, then the center of his chest. he gasps, hands tightening on your thighs, but he doesn't stop you. he wouldn't dare.

because in this moment, you have him. completely. and he knows it. his voice is barely a breath. "you could ruin me."

you smile against his skin.

"and i'd let you."

"i don't want to ruin you," you whisper. "i want to worship you."

the first kiss lands just below his jaw. a soft press, leaving behind a faint, glistening print of what is left of your gloss. then another, lower, on the curve of his collarbone. you work your way down, each kiss deliberate, a trail of you on him. san's eyes flutter shut, his breathing stutters.

"you're... marking me," he says, voice hushed.

"mm," you hum against his skin. "so you remember whose pretty boy you are."

when you finally pull back, his chest is dotted with faint, shimmering imprints. a constellation only the two of you will ever know. your nails leave faint red lines down his torso, lips leaving a ghost trail down the curve of his abs. you feel the way his pulse quickens under your fingertips, the way his body softens into yours. and in that quiet, you realize — he's given you all of him, without a single word.

"can i see you?"

"but...? you already see me?" he raises his head from the pillow to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"sannie." his name comes out as a mix of a chuckle and sigh. "can i see you?"

a gentle tug at his sweatpants is enough to make his cheeks flush. his hands squeeze your thighs, anticipation eating him alive.

"words, love. i need words." you encourage.

"yes." the man responds. "you can see me."

it's enough words of confirmation for you to undo the knot of his bottoms. you discard the last pieces of clothing off him, leaving him a flushed and blubbering mess underneath you. you sit between his legs now, eyes fixed on his leaking tip. it's red, and inviting. the world's sweetest candy didn't have your mouth watering like this. fingers eagerly wrap around his shaft. san chokes back a gasp, hips struggling to stay in place. he can't let his touch starved side ruin the moment by rushing it. so he obediently stays put, fingers curling into the bedsheets to somewhat keep him grounded.

"so pretty." your breath is a hot caress on his aching tip. "and all mine."

the tip of your tongue starts the journey from his base, working its way up a bulging vein and stopping at the tip. san throws his head further back, burying the back of it into the pillow. the gloss stains glimmer under headboard lights as his breath quickens. you press your lips against him, and painfully slowly, take him inch by inch, until he touches the back of your throat. san may not be long, but much like his fingers, he is thick.

so thick, that your jaw soon starts aching even though you haven't managed to speed up just yet. the pace and his own impatience is taunting him. his hips twitch under you each time you take him all the way. you want to see how long before he loses control. you focus on the tip, lips leaving sticky kisses all over it and tongue barely touching it. san hisses when you graze your teeth against it. then, you find it. just under his tip, a spot which you gently suck on, causing san's fingers to find a new spot in your hair. he grips the strands as you swipe your tongue on the very spot, letting out a choked moan.

"fuck—" he cries out. his hips don't rush to meet your moves. instead, they move away from your touch. "princess."

"hmm?" you hum against him, the vibrations only making the matters worse for him it seems.

"princess—" he begs. "stop. stop, please. i'm going to cum."

already, you wish to tease. you give him a break. not because you feel sorry for teasing, but because you are about to give him something way worse.

"please, please, please," whines leave his pretty lips, and red and plump from biting them. he twitches in your hand, and a gasp echoes in the room. just in time, you take him in your mouth again, ropes of cum shooting straight down your throat. he twitches against your tongue, salty and sweet at the same time. hips try to escape once again, but you dig your nails into his thighs, keeping him in place. "i can't take it! please—! ha—ah—!"

you pull away, giving him a second. one of your hands wrap around his shiny and softening shaft, slowly working it up and down while simultaneously twisting it. "look at me."

it takes him a while to raise his head up, but when his half-lided eyes look at your dark and serious ones, he doesn't regret it. you look like a wild cat, staring down your prey before feasting. and it makes san's blood rush to his crotch again, until he grows and becomes rock hard in your hand again.

"you can take it." you encourage.

"i'll try." he gulps.

"no." you squeeze him, and he hisses again. "you won't try. you'll take what i give you, like the good boy you are. won't you?"

"i will, i will!" his tone is desperate as you continue squeezing him. "i'll do anything you want me to."

"then," you lower your head again, tongue dangerously close to his sensitive tip. "you can do a few more."

"a— a few?" san wasn't thinking a few. he can barely handle one. he can feel your nails grazing his shaft as a warning, and thus, he braces himself. "yes, of course. however many you wish."

"that's my good puppy." you can't get enough. the second orgasm takes a while to arrive. the third one a bit shorter, and the fourth one surprises both of you, san dripping all over your fingers moments after the third one. he shakes under your touch as your tongue licks the trails of seed. he goes soft in your hand once again, yet you don't give him a break this time. your hand already works up and down, hardening him. this time not for teasing, but for a reward. san doesn't look at you. his gaze is fixed on the ceiling, while his breathing is getting steady. he is bracing for another one. you get his attention by sliding your panties off, then dangling them above his face on your finger. "why don't you take the rest off me?"

"actually..." he gulps. "i would like you to keep my t-shirt on. please...?"

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on your lips. "you want to fuck your friend's assistant with your clothes on?"

"i—" he is a stuttering mess. and you adore him for it. "i mean, yes...?"

"oh, sannie." you press a kiss to his forehead, then his lips. a short, sweet kiss, just enough to rile him up again. "say it."

"say what?"

"say," you grab his face, fingers digging into his cheeks so that his lips stick out in a pout. "it."

"i want to fuck my friend's assistant." he blinks. "with my clothes on her."

"mmh." you tilt your head, admiring his features for a while. his hair is a mess, sticking to his sweaty forehead, and his cheeks and neck flushed. "good boy."

you dig your fingers further into his cheeks, forcing his lips open. san swears he faints for a moment. his tongue tastes your essence as you push your panties into his mouth. he doesn't question it. he can't, even if he wanted.

"as much as i love your pretty moans, i can't have someone barging in and ruining our fun." you explain. he nods understandingly. even if you had no reason, san would still find it the hottest thing you've ever done. "i'm going to make love to you, mr choi."

"mmh—" his abused tip sinks between your folds with your help, and his hands fly to your waist for help and support. inch by inch, he disappears inside you, a soft squelch echoing in the room. when you finally sit, both of you let out a grunt. the stretch is painfully delicious. something you haven't properly savoured the first time. this time, you'll do it properly.

"you're the prettiest thing i've ever seen." words come out as a sigh as you stand on your knees, only to sink back down slower than ever. "an eye candy, my pretty sannie."

he hums, probably a word of gratitude. as moments pass, you pick up the pace. not fast. sensual, and deep. you roll your hips, one hand pressed flat against his flexing abs to keep yourself steady, and the other one placed over his that lays on your thigh with a death grip. you know you'll bruise. it's his way of marking you.

san can't take his eyes off you. the pleasure is nothing compared to the majestic sight of you; hazy look, bra pulled down, nipples poking through the white cotton t-shirt, bottom lip trapped between your teeth, and beads of sweat making your body glisten. his free hand reaches for you, tugging at the fabric for you to lift it up. when you do, he wastes no time in cupping your breast, thumb grazing the sensitive bud. you gasp, shocks of pleasure rushing to your core.

"my good, good boy." you're slowly becoming a blubbering mess yourself, fucking yourself silly on his aching cock. eyes become blurry, and hips stutter as you feel it coiling in your abdomen. the bubble of pleasure, growing with each thrust and threatening to burst soon. the control you've had slowly fades away, the need to be held taking over instead. you remove the panties from his mouth, tossing them aside. "san..."

"yes?" he says, breathless.

"i need you."

"but, you have me."

"no, san." you fall over, elbow digging into the mattress and bracing you. "i need you to take care of me. please."

he presses a kiss to your lips. it calms you, delaying the orgasm. "how do you want me?"

"your way. however you wish." you assure him.

when you say his way, you didn't think he would easily pick you up and lay you on your stomach. to place a pillow under your hips, lifting your ass and exposing it. to spread your thighs, and blow cool air on your hot core. to sink one finger, then another, into your walls. to hush you when you whine, tell you to listen to the sweet sounds of squelching and slick. to push your legs together with his thighs, and push through your folds once more.

much like you, he finds a new spot in this position. the pillow presses your stomach just right, allowing him to easily locate and abuse the a-spot. san's plushie meets his fate as you sink your teeth into it, preventing yourself from the chain of noises threatening to leave you. most men fail to find the g-spot, let alone the a-spot. seems that san has done his research.

even though his thrusts are deep and rough, his grip on your waist is gentle. he holds your body in place, thumbs occasionally rubbing soothing circles into your skin whenever he stops to give you a moment to collect yourself.

"poor sandeoki." he teases.

truly, poor sandeoki. soaked with tears of pleasure and saliva, with bite marks decorating it. he'll never forgive you. san's teasing is short lived, replaced by faster thrusts, each snap of his hips precise to the point you start gripping the headboard for support. you swear you will snap in half. nails leave marks, as san's grip intensifies and leaves bruises on your limp body. the bubble grows again, each thrust inflating it. it takes a final thrust for it to burst, pleasure washing over in waves like an earthquake.

"where—" his hips stutter. "where do i cum, princess?"

"in me, please." you whine. "please."

"are you sure?" he's breathless, but doesn't stop for you to answer.

"yes, yes, yes—" words of confirmation turn into moans, the second orgasm approaching. "fuck, yes. fill me to the brim, sannie."

"fuuuck—" your words send him down a spiral, and thrusting isn't enough anymore. he moves your hips backwards so that you meet him halfway, deeper and harder. he uses you for his own pleasure, utterly lost in the feeling of your unmerciful tight walls. "say it. please, say it."

"make me cum, sannie." you know just what he wants. "be a good boy, paint me white."

"i'll be a good boy—"

"yes, you will." it takes only a few more thrusts to push you over the edge. "the best."

"fuck, fuck, fuck," he leans over you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and sinking his teeth into your shoulder. one hand snakes around your waist, pressing your back against his skin. it's hot, slippery, and the best you've ever felt. san uses you as his own personalized fleshlight, holding you in place as he chases his own orgasm. "take it. take all of me, baby, please."

the moment his seed shoots inside you, you feel your own orgasm granting you mercy. it washes over you again, this time not in waves, but in intense quakes. san doesn't move until he does exactly as you told him; fills you to the brim. he forces himself to move, he doesn't want to squish you. instead of falling beside you, he spreads your thighs, watching as white liquid seeps from your pulsing core. you can't help the surprised gasp as he gently collects it and pushes it back inside.

"i'll clean you up, i promise. just... let me have this."

you can't help the fond chuckle that leaves you. san kneels between your legs for a while, utterly mesmerized by his doing. until you turn to lay on your back, and pull him towards you. he falls over, face inches away from yours. "hi."

"hey." he says it back. "are you okay?"

"of course." you say, fingers brushing the damp bangs out of his eyes. "are you?"

"oh." he sighs. "i've never felt better."

you urge him to lay on top of you, and he does, ear pressed to your chest as he listens to your heart becoming steady. you comb his hair with one hand, while the other one rubs his back. "i think... i love you."

he stiffens under your touch. fuck.

"i— sorry. too soon?"

"no, i just..." he trails. "i'm scared."

you lift his chin up, guiding his gaze to lock with yours. "of?"

"of waking up and you leaving again."

"oh, san." the words hurt you. you've made the mistake once, you won't do it twice. "i'm here to stay. i promise."

"then..." plush lips capture yours in a kiss. a kiss that finally means closure of a painful chapter, and opening of a new one. "i love you too. but... i can't help but wonder, what now? will you stay as hwa's assistant?"

"i will." you play with the hair on the back of his head. "but not for long, i guess. at least that's what he said."

"i knew it. he was asking around about a free position for a photographer or editor. said he knows just the person. i knew it was for you. but, what do i do about leah?"

"i'll handle her." and you mean it.

in the morning, you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel uneasy. san lays on top of you again, and you reach for the phone. a smile creeps on your lips as you find a singular message on the notification board.

park seonghwa: how was the movie? ;)

y/n: hush

park seonghwa: i'm happy for you both, tiny.

y/n: thank you, seonghwa. for everything.

park seonghwa: a wise person once said, "hush"

park seonghwa: you're still my assistant though. hurry up, i want my watered down coffee!

y/n: right away, mr park :)

park seonghwa: <3