Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Juntae was preparing carefully, like he always did before a stream. He cleaned his mobile phone’s front camera with a neat swipe of his microfiber cloth, checked the lens against the light, and nodded to himself. Beside him, on a small round side table, he had already placed a diary opened to a crisp blank page and a sleek pen laid across it. Everything was in order.

Taking a slow breath, he sat back in his favorite soft cushioned armchair — upholstered in a muted grey fabric, perfectly blending with the rich wooden flooring. The chair was positioned near a tall window draped with cream curtains, half-pulled to let in the mellow evening glow. The light scattered across the mansion’s polished floor and painted warm stripes across the edge of the rug beneath him.

Behind the armchair, a tall bookshelf reached up nearly to the ceiling, filled with carefully arranged books and a few framed photographs. On the other side, a floor lamp glowed softly, casting golden light that blended with the natural twilight, making the space cozy yet elegant. It felt homely, private, but with just enough formality to look professional for his viewers.

After glancing at the time on his phone, he straightened his glasses, adjusted the tripod angle, and finally tapped the “Go Live” button.

At first, the counter ticked slowly: 1 viewer… 3 viewers… 5… The chat began to flicker with greetings. Juntae waited patiently, smiling softly, his pen twirling lightly between his fingers. Then he leaned closer, waved, and began calling out names one by one.

“Hello, hello… hi @sketchaddict… hello @pixelwarrior99… good to see you @nami.art… oh, hi @gamejam_kid!” His voice was calm and clear, the sound of someone who’d practiced this ritual before.

[@sketchaddict]: hiiiiiii 🥺 finally caught you live!!!

[@pixelwarrior99]: hey teacher 👋

[@nami.art]: omg that chair looks sooo comfy 😭

[@gamejam_kid]: greetings from Brazil💜

[@starrynight_dev]: lighting vibes >>>> ✨

When the number of viewers rose steadily into the dozens, he clasped his hands, leaned forward slightly, and welcomed them all again with a warm smile.

“Hey everyone, welcome to the live stream. Thank you so much for joining. Today’s session is going to be all about how you can design a character for your game. It’s going to be very beginner-friendly, so don’t worry if this is your first time trying. I’ve also got my diary and pen right here, so as always, feel free to drop your questions in the comments. I’ll take notes, explain in detail, and walk you through step by step.”

More comments popping in quickly:

[@mango_mochi]: yayyy 😭 can’t wait!! pls show your notes later

[@lvlup_studio]: will this apply for mobile games too??

[@ash_draws]: can u save this live for us?? 🙏

[@caffeinecoder]: let’s gooo 🔥🔥

Juntae adjusted his glasses again, a nervous little habit, but his posture stayed relaxed in the armchair. The golden light framed his profile as he smiled and dipped his pen to the page, ready to guide them. The mansion’s calm luxury and his quiet preparation gave the stream an intimate yet professional air — like a personal workshop held right from his home.

He sat comfortably in his cushioned armchair, diary open, pen resting against the page. His voice carried an easy rhythm as he explained, gestured, and scribbled little notes. The camera caught the slight sparkle in his glasses whenever he leaned closer to read a question. He genuinely loved doing this — livestreams that were free, open to anyone who wanted to learn.

“These sessions are for people who really enjoy gaming,” he said warmly, pausing to sketch a small stick figure outline, “and maybe… who dream of a career in coding, game design, or development. I just want to give you a starting point. Free, simple, and friendly. Everyone deserves a chance.”

[@devquest]: this is why I respect u man 🙏

[@retrobit_01]: freeeeee lessons LETS GO!!! 🔥

[@chibbyart]: tysm for not charging

Juntae wasn’t just a hobbyist. He worked full-time at a respected gaming company headquartered in Seoul, a mid-sized but highly ambitious studio known for producing both AAA-level projects and popular indie-style spin-offs. The company’s name carried weight in the Asian gaming industry — their flagship titles often appeared at international expos, known for blending smooth storytelling with crisp graphics and player-driven mechanics.

Within the company, Juntae held a senior role as a Lead Game Developer. His specialty was character mechanics and interaction systems — he was the one making sure characters didn’t just look good, but felt alive when players controlled them. Whether it was the way a cloak shifted in the wind, how a sword gleamed mid-swing, or how AI-driven enemies reacted dynamically, his fingerprints were always present in the final build.

Coworkers often described him as “the bridge between design and reality.” He worked closely with concept artists, listened carefully to narrative teams, then translated all of it into code, models, and functional systems. His workstation at the company was always a mix of two worlds — half covered in sketches and doodles pinned to the wall, half dominated by multiple monitors running lines of code, debug tools, and live test builds.

The company valued his contributions so much that management had tried several times to convince him:
“Juntae, why don’t you launch your own course under our banner? Paid workshops, recorded modules — people would sign up instantly. You’re good on camera, you explain well. It’s a win-win.”

But Juntae always shook his head with a soft smile.

On the livestream, between answering questions, he touched on it casually:
“IYou know my company says I should charge fees, make a course or something. But honestly? I like it this way. I like meeting you guys live, in real time. Seeing your usernames, answering directly, scribbling notes… It keeps me human. And not everyone can afford fancy courses. If even one person here decides to try coding or game design because of this stream, then it’s worth it.”

[@bytehunter]: 🫡 respectttt

[@kawaiicode]: i literally started my cs major bc of u!!

[@zenmaster_dev]: man’s a legend fr

[@nooblet_99]: pls never stop lives 😭😭

As the chat flooded with hearts and clapping emojis, Juntae only chuckled softly, adjusted his glasses again, and returned to his diary. For him, this wasn’t about money or recognition. It was about passion — a professional game developer in a respected position, giving back freely to the very community that had inspired him when he was younger.

Juntae tapped the diary lightly with his pen, leaning closer to the camera. His tone was patient, his words clear.
“So, when you’re designing a character,” he explained, sketching a small silhouette on the page, “don’t only think about their looks. Think about their story. Why do they wear certain clothes? Why do they fight with a sword instead of a bow? Even small details — like scars, tattoos, or a limp — can make your character feel alive.”

He paused to angle the diary toward the phone, showing the little outline he had made. The chat filled instantly.

[@pixelwarrior99]: ohhh scars add depth 👏

[@nami.art]: pls slow down im taking notes 😭

[@retrobit_01]: character flaws >>>> perfection

Juntae chuckled softly, nodded, and slowed his pen. Every few minutes, he paused mid-sentence to scroll the comments, reading names aloud with genuine fondness before answering.

Amid questions about shading, game engines, and character backstories, one comment caught his eye. He leaned forward to read it again.

[@citywatcher]: is ur firefighter friend back home safe?? saw that massive apartment fire on the news 😰🔥

Juntae blinked, adjusted his glasses, and his expression softened. He placed his pen down and looked directly into the camera.
“Ah… you mean Hyumin,” he said, voice lower and warmer now. “No, not yet. He was home earlier, actually — but then he got a call for an emergency and had to leave right away. That’s just how it is with him. One moment he’s at the table eating with us, the next he’s already rushing out because someone needs him.”

His gaze softened with quiet admiration.
“I respect him so much for that. You know, I complain sometimes, like — ‘Baku, you barely rest, you should take a break.’ But deep down, I’m just proud. He always puts others first. That’s real courage.”

[@devquest]: RESPECT 🫡 firefighters are heroes

[@mango_mochi]: hyumin 🥺 please stay safe!!

[@lvlup_studio]: wow you guys got such cool friends omg

Juntae smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a quiet, almost shy way.
“Yeah, my friends… they’re incredible,” he murmured. “I don’t say it enough, but I look up to them. Not just Hyumin — all of them. They’ve carried me through more than you’d believe. Honestly, half the time I feel like the lucky one, being able to sit here, in this house, doing what I love, while they’re out there protecting people, supporting me, and just… being themselves. I admire them a lot.”

After a moment, he tapped the diary again, gently shifting back into teaching mode, though the affection in his eyes lingered.
“Alright — back to our character design,” he said with a small laugh, brushing his hair back. “Just like in real life, characters shine when you give them depth, when they have values they live for. See? Even thinking about my friends reminds me — that’s how you design characters people care about. Make them real.”

[@ash_draws]: this is why ur streams hit different 🥹

[@nooblet_99]: ur friends sound like anime protagonists 😭

[@starrynight_dev]: so much respect for you & ur circle 💜

The stream carried on, balancing technical guidance with genuine warmth — every lesson woven with pieces of his life, his respect, and his quiet adoration for the people who mattered most to him.

Juntae was mid-sentence, pen hovering above the diary, when suddenly a broad shadow passed behind him. Before he could react, a figure leaned into the frame — Baku, still in his firefighter uniform, boots thudding softly against the floor. His jacket smelled faintly of smoke and ash, his hair messy from the helmet he must have just taken off.

“—ahh!” Juntae yelped, nearly dropping his pen as he flinched so hard he almost knocked over his tea. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, and he pressed a hand to his chest dramatically.
“I told you to stop doing that!” he exclaimed, half-scolding, half-laughing, voice pitched higher than usual.

The chat immediately exploded with laughter:

[@retrobit_01]: LMAOOO 😂😂😂

[@nami.art]: poor juntae almost had a heart attack 💀

[@pixelwarrior99]: stealth baku strikes again 😭🔥

[@ash_draws]: BAHAHAH the timing is GOLD

Baku raised both hands, palms out, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry!” he said quickly, though his tone wasn’t very convincing — the mischievous spark in his eyes gave him away. Then he moved closer, resting a heavy but warm hand on Juntae’s shoulder, steadying him. His presence was big, solid, grounding.

“So,” Baku said, leaning toward the camera with a playful smirk. “What are you guys talking about me for?”

Juntae, still recovering, shoved his glasses back into place and gave him a side glare that didn’t hide the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

“They weren’t,” he muttered, trying to regain composure. “They were just asking if you were home yet. That’s it. Nothing else.”

[@gamejam_kid]: caught in 4k 📸📸📸

[@devquest]: juntae blushingggg??? 👀

[@starrynight_dev]: firefighter cameo LETS GOOOOO

[@nooblet_99]: uniform still on 😳🔥🔥🔥

Baku chuckled, giving Juntae’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Well, now you can tell them I’m here. See? Safe and alive.” He winked at the camera. “Though somebody clearly doesn’t appreciate my grand entrances.”

Juntae groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Grand entrances? More like jump scares. Do you know how many times you’ve shortened my lifespan?”

The chat went wild again.

[@mango_mochi]: 💀💀💀 ‘shortened my lifespan’ HELP

[@lvlup_studio]: baku = human horror game 😭

[@chibbyart]: juntae pls protect ur poor heart

Baku, unfazed, leaned casually on the armrest of Juntae’s cushioned chair, looking every bit like he belonged there despite still being half-covered in soot. His grin widened. “Relax, teacher. You’re fine. And besides, the viewers love it.” He pointed toward the scrolling comments with exaggerated pride.

Juntae peeked through his fingers, groaned again, but couldn’t help a small laugh. “They’re laughing at me, not you.”

Baku tilted his head, smug. “Same thing.”

[@sketchaddict]: THEIR CHAOS IS PEAK COMEDY 🤣🤣

[@bytehunter]: siblings or sitcom duo?? can’t tell 😭

[@retrobit_01]: pls do this every live 😭🙏

Juntae shook his head, closing his diary for a moment with a dramatic sigh. “You know what? Fine. Sit here if you want. Just don’t scare me again.”

“Promise,” Baku said instantly, sitting on the armrest like a loyal guard dog — though the sparkle in his eyes suggested he’d break that promise sooner or later.

The camera now caught them both in frame — the diligent, slightly flustered teacher with his diary and the uniformed firefighter who had barged into the calm atmosphere and turned it into pure chaos. The chat was loving every second of it, the livestream morphing into a mix of learning, laughter, and warm friendship banter that no one wanted to end.

Once the laughter settled a little, Baku leaned forward in the frame, his tone shifting from playful to serious. The mischievous grin faded as he rested his forearms on his knees, the heavy firefighter jacket creaking softly.

“Jokes aside,” he began, glancing briefly at Juntae before focusing on the camera, “the fire tonight… it started from something really small. Just a flame in a kitchen — a pan left unattended. But it spread so fast through the apartment. Plastic, wood, wiring… once those caught, the whole place went up. People don’t realize how a tiny thing can become a monster in minutes.”

Juntae’s smile dimmed into a thoughtful expression. He sat straighter in his cushioned chair, nodding slowly, pen tapping lightly against the diary as if taking notes in his own way.

Comments flooding in.

[@citywatcher]: omg that’s terrifying 😨

[@nami.art]: kitchen fires are so scary 😭

[@retrobit_01]: respect to u man, fr 🙏🔥

Baku lifted a hand, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. “People need to take care. Never leave stoves or candles unattended. Check your sockets, don’t overload them. Keep a small extinguisher if you can, or at least a bucket of water or sand nearby. And if a fire ever breaks out, don’t panic — just get out and call for help. Smoke is more dangerous than flames most of the time.”

He paused, voice dropping lower. “We lost time tonight because someone tried to fight it alone instead of evacuating. They inhaled too much smoke. They’re alive, but it was close. Don’t be a hero in the wrong way — call us, that’s our job.”

Juntae’s eyes softened, full of quiet respect. He tilted his head slightly toward Baku, his voice calm but firm.
“You say it so simply, but you guys put your lives at risk every time. People really don’t understand how much effort goes into keeping everyone safe.”

Comments pouring in again.

[@devquest]: goosebumps listening to this 😳

[@ash_draws]: thank you for the awareness 🙏

[@bytehunter]: i’m literally checking my sockets rn 💀

[@zenmaster_dev]: heroes don’t wear capes, they wear uniforms 🫡🔥

Baku gave a small shrug, though his eyes showed gratitude at the support. “Just… be careful, yeah? Most fires start from carelessness. It’s preventable.”

He exhaled, leaning back slightly, his voice softening again. “Anyway, enough of my lecture. I need to get freshened up — still smell like smoke.” He tugged at his soot-stained jacket with a tired laugh, glancing once more at Juntae before standing.

As he left the frame, his heavy boots thudded against the wooden floor. Juntae followed him with his eyes, then turned back to the camera, pushing his glasses up and smiling faintly.

“You see?” he said, tone lighter now but still warm. “That’s Baku. He barges in, scares me half to death, then leaves us all with a safety seminar.”

The chat exploded again.

[@mango_mochi]: LOL accurate description 😂

[@sketchaddict]: baku is everyone’s dad now 😭😭

[@starrynight_dev]: thank u for the tips fr, noted!!

Juntae chuckled softly, picked up his pen again, and tapped the open diary. “Alright… let’s get back to character design. But don’t forget what he said. Even in games, small details matter. And in real life? Small carelessness can change everything. So be careful, okay?”

The live continued — laughter, lessons, and now, a touch of awareness lingering in the air, thanks to the firefighter's unplanned cameo.

Baku’s footsteps faded down the hall, and the chat slowly calmed after the flurry of laughing emojis and fire icons. Juntae adjusted his glasses, let out a small sigh, and flipped his diary to a fresh page.

“Okay… so, where were we?” he said, tapping the pen lightly against the margin. “Ah, yes. Character design. Now remember — always give your character a motivation. Looks are great, but it’s the reason behind their actions that really makes them believable.”

He was mid-sentence when a new wave of comments caught his attention.

[@lvlup_studio]: wait this reminds me, how come all of you guys created your pro accounts on the same day?? 👀

[@ash_draws]: trueee they all dropped their intros together lol 😂

[@gamejam_kid]: does sieun film his own vids or someone helps him???

[@retrobit_01]: no fr, how did sieun even START making vids?? man looks too serious for that 😭😭

Juntae blinked at the scrolling feed, his pen frozen mid-air. He leaned forward slightly, squinting at the screen, and then read one out loud with a small chuckle.
“‘How did Sieun even start making videos…?’” He repeated the words slowly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it was being asked live.

His lips twitched into a shy smile as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Umm… well… that’s… a long story.”

The moment he said that, the viewers pounced.

[@mango_mochi]: LONG STORY = GOOD STORY 👀 spill pls

[@nami.art]: PLS SHARE 😭😭 we’re begging

[@pixelwarrior99]: don’t tease us like that man 😭

[@starrynight_dev]: sit down everyone he’s about to tell a LORE story ✨

[@devquest]: popcorn ready 🍿🍿🍿

Juntae laughed nervously, shaking his head quickly, but his expression betrayed a fondness. He tried to redirect, tapping his diary again. “No, no, no, this is supposed to be a game design session, not a gossip stream.”

The chat wasn’t letting him off the hook.

More comments bursting in.

[@chibbyart]: bro u can’t just say ‘long story’ and NOT tell it 😭😭

[@zenmaster_dev]: give us a short version then 🙏

[@nooblet_99]: sieun origin story WHEN 😤

Juntae pushed his glasses up, looking almost flustered now. He leaned back into his armchair, pen still between his fingers, and muttered, “I should have known better than to say that out loud…”

The faintest grin tugged at his lips. “Sieun’s not even here and you guys are dragging him into my live,” he teased, shaking his head slowly. His voice dropped into a soft, almost conspiratorial tone: “Honestly, you’d be surprised. He didn’t plan any of it. It just… happened.”

The chat went wild again, spamming emojis and pleas for more details.

Comments scrolling too fast to read.

[@ash_draws]: OMGOMG he’s giving us crumbs 😭😭😭

[@retrobit_01]: ‘it just happened’ = WE NEED CONTEXT 😭

[@lvlup_studio]: pls story time pls story time pls story time 🙏

[@sketchaddict]: JUNTY PLS STOP BEING MYSTERIOUS 😤

Juntae covered his mouth with his hand, chuckling. “Alright, alright… let me finish this point about motivations first, and maybe I’ll tell you. No promises.”

The flood of laughing emojis and dramatic “NOOOO” comments that followed made the entire moment feel like controlled chaos — exactly the kind of unpredictable warmth his livestreams were known for.

Juntae finally sighed, leaning back deeper into his cushioned armchair, pen resting against his diary. The faintest smile curved at the corner of his lips as he looked into the camera.

“Okay, fine… since you all won’t stop spamming…” He tilted his glasses higher up his nose, a playful sparkle in his eyes. “Here’s how it actually happened.”

The comments slowed a little, hearts and popcorn emojis flooding the screen as everyone leaned into his story.

[@mango_mochi]: YAYYYY STORY TIME 🥹🥹

[@ash_draws]: finally he’s talking 😭😭

[@lvlup_studio]: LET HIM COOK 👨‍🍳👨‍🍳

[@retrobit_01]: popcorn ready 🍿🍿🍿

“In the beginning,” Juntae started, his tone reflective, “it was Suho who suggested that we should all create our own professional accounts. You know, separate from our personal ones. Most of us already had casual accounts — except Sieun, obviously. He’s never been one for posting his life online.”

He chuckled softly, recalling it. “But when Suho started his modeling journey… he created a professional account right away. It made sense — agencies were scouting him, he was building a portfolio, and Suho has always been… well, Suho. Confident. Flashy.”

[@retrobit_01]: ofc suho started it first 😭 model energy

[@ash_draws]: sieun having no personal account sounds SO in character 😂

[@nami.art]: suho being the social media king we knew it 👑

[@bytehunter]: lol classic suho, always ahead

Juntae’s voice softened, his expression tilting into something fond, almost amused even before he began.

“So… this was during one of Suho’s very early lives,” he said, twirling his pen absently like he was replaying the whole thing in his head. “He wasn’t doing anything serious, just talking. You know how he is — he’d prop his phone up anywhere. That day he was half-lying on the couch, hair still damp from a shower, chatting about his latest modeling shoot. Totally casual. He kept switching between showing his new jacket and rambling about how hard it is to pose without blinking too much.”

The chat fluttered with laughing emojis.

[@ash_draws]: LMAOO that’s such suho behavior 😂

[@retrobit_01]: ‘how hard it is to not blink’ IM CRYING 😭😭😭

Juntae smiled wider, his voice laced with adoration as he leaned a little closer to the camera. “So here’s what really happened. He was doing one of his early lives — nothing serious, just him flopped on the couch, half showing off his new jacket, half rambling about his shoot. And then he starts reading comments again.”

He lifted his hand, mimicking Suho’s dramatic frown and squint. “He leans forward, all serious, and goes: ‘Oh! Someone says here… they got a legal notice for unpaid rent and are scared their landlord might sue them. They don’t know what to do…’”

Juntae chuckled, shaking his head slowly. “Now remember — this is Suho. A model. Zero legal background. But does he hesitate? No. He clears his throat, sits up straighter like he’s about to give a TED Talk, and with total confidence says: ‘Okay, listen. Just block the landlord’s number. Don’t pay anything. Pretend you never saw the papers. Problem solved.’”

He dropped his pen onto the diary and covered his face for a second, laughing. “I swear to you, he actually said that. With the most innocent, serious expression. Like he’d just cracked the code to life.”

[@ash_draws]: BLOCK THE LANDLORD 💀💀💀

[@retrobit_01]: ‘pretend u never saw the papers’ IM CRYING 😭😭😭

[@mango_mochi]: suho pls never become a lawyer 🙏😂

[@pixelwarrior99]: man really gave felony advice with confidence 😭

He leaned back, covering his face for a moment as if reliving the secondhand embarrassment. “I swear to you — he actually said that. On live. With a straight face. He even puffed his cheeks out after, like he was proud of himself.”

[@nami.art]: NOOOOO 💀💀💀

[@mango_mochi]: ‘pretend you didn’t see the papers’ IM SCREAMING 😭😭😭😭

[@pixelwarrior99]: our boy suho out here giving CRIMINAL advice 😂😂😂

[@lvlup_studio]: he’s lucky he’s pretty bc wow 😭😭

Juntae leaned forward, his eyes glinting with amusement as the memory came back to him. “And here’s the best part — Sieun was right there. He wasn’t even part of the live. Just sitting at the table behind Suho, book open in one hand, coffee mug in the other. He wasn’t paying attention at all… until he heard that. And by the way, he was in the final year of his law degree.”

Juntae mimicked Sieun, widening his eyes slightly, voice quieter, thoughtful. “He froze. Like he couldn’t believe it. He actually set his coffee down and just stared at Suho for a second. You could see it on his face — ‘Did he really just say block the landlord?’”

Juntae broke into laughter, covering his mouth with his hand before continuing. “And then, after this long pause, he finally spoke — calm, steady, but you could hear the disbelief in his tone. He just said: ‘That’s… not how legal notices work.’”

Juntae chuckled again, imitating Sieun’s raised brow and deadpan delivery. “No yelling, no scolding, just pure stunned confusion. Like he genuinely couldn’t process how Suho’s brain worked in that moment.”

[@ash_draws]: LMAOOO THAT’S SO SIEUN 😭

[@retrobit_01]: ‘that’s not how legal notices work’ IM SCREAMING 😂

[@mango_mochi]: his disappointment was immeasurable 💀

[@nami.art]: suho = chaos, sieun = law & order 👨‍⚖️

He paused, chuckling, shaking his head.

Juntae’s grin widened as he leaned closer to the camera, clearly relishing the memory. “And of course, Suho didn’t take it quietly. The second Sieun said, ‘That’s not how legal notices work,’ Suho puffed his cheeks out, frowned at the camera like a sulky kid, and whined, ‘I was just trying to help!’”

He mimicked Suho’s voice perfectly — dramatic, a little high-pitched, the kind of tone you’d use when you knew you were in the wrong but wanted sympathy anyway.

[@retrobit_01]: ‘i was just trying to help’ BYEEE 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: poor baby thinks he’s a lawyer 💀

[@nooblet_99]: suho giving FELONY advice 😭😂

[@pixelwarrior99]: protect him from himself pls 😭

Juntae chuckled, adjusting his glasses before continuing. “And Sieun… he just sighed. He didn’t even look up from his book this time. He said, calm as ever: ‘Then don’t help in such a dumb way. Giving bullshit advice makes it worse.’”

He shook his head, laughing softly. “You could see Suho’s jaw drop. He turned to the phone, his whole face red, and started reading comments out loud like he was looking for backup.”

Juntae mimed Suho leaning closer to the phone, squinting at the screen dramatically.
“‘@vanillasoup says — omg Suho, that’s the worst advice ever 😭😭 … @coldbear says — stick to modeling pls … @lvlup_studio says — landlord about to level up into final boss 💀💀 … WHAT?! You guys too?!’”

Juntae burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking. “And he pouted even harder, lips sticking out, eyes wide and betrayed, like the whole world had turned against him.”

[@mango_mochi]: landlord final boss HELP 💀💀💀

[@sketchaddict]: nah he deserved that roast 😂

[@starrynight_dev]: he’s so dumb it’s ADORABLE 😭😭😭

[@devquest]: baby lawyer arc cancelled 😂

Juntae smirked, voice softening as he recalled the last bit. “And that’s when Sieun finally glanced up. Just the tiniest twitch at the corner of his lips — like he was fighting a smile. And then he muttered, ‘See? Even they know it’s dumb.’ Before going right back to his book.”

He leaned back in his cushioned armchair, pen tapping against the diary, eyes sparkling. “And that… was the exact moment the comments started screaming for Sieun to make his own account. The rest is history.”

[@ash_draws]: HIS LIPS TWITCHED OMGGG 😭😭😭

[@nooblet_99]: sieun 1 — suho 0 💀

[@retrobit_01]: this is the cutest chaos I’ve ever heard 😭✨

[@bytehunter]: imagine getting bullied into a career by ur bf 💀

“The whole chat lost it. Suho froze mid-pout, stared at him like a puppy caught stealing food. And then he actually… pouted harder at the camera. Like—” Juntae mimicked him again, pushing his lower lip out dramatically, eyebrows scrunching.

[@starrynight_dev]: OMG I CAN SEE IT 😭😭😭

[@retrobit_01]: suho pout compilation WHEN 😤

[@sketchaddict]: sieun is the hero we didn’t know we needed 🙏

[@devquest]: man shut him down like it was NOTHING 😭😂

Juntae exhaled softly, his laugh melting into something warmer. “That’s the thing about Suho. He’s… dumb sometimes. In the cutest way. He just wants to help, wants to sound smart, wants to be useful — but half the time he ends up saying things like ‘ignore the papers’.” He shook his head, smiling fondly. “And Sieun? He doesn’t let him get away with it for even a second. He’s just… cool like that. Always cuts through the nonsense with one line.”

His pen tapped against the diary. “That moment — Suho’s pout, Sieun’s deadpan voice, the chaos in the comments… that was when everyone realized Sieun needed his own account. And honestly, we never looked back.”

Comments reacting wildly.

[@nooblet_99]: this is the CUTEST story ever omg 😭😭

[@ash_draws]: suho = chaos, sieun = order 💜

[@mango_mochi]: THEY BALANCE EACH OTHER SO WELL 😭✨

[@bytehunter]: imagine ur career starting bc ur bf roasted u on live 💀

He laughed again, covering his mouth with his hand. “Suho literally froze, stared at him like a scolded kid, and then just… pouted at the camera. It was hilarious.”

[@sketchaddict]: LMFAOOO 😭😭😭

[@mango_mochi]: sieun’s first line on live = savage 😂

[@pixelwarrior99]: suho pouting omg I need this clip rn 😭😭

[@nooblet_99]: LEGEND ENTRANCE 🚪🔥

“But that was the turning point,” Juntae said more seriously, eyes reflecting a kind of admiration. “Because the chat loved it. People started spamming, ‘Who’s that? Who’s talking? Bring him on camera!’ They didn’t even know Sieun yet, but his voice alone caught them. And from that day, it was clear… he had something people wanted to listen to.”

Comments flooding in.

[@bytehunter]: sieun literally went viral by accident 💀

[@ash_draws]: iconic entrance fr 😭👏

[@retrobit_01]: imagine your first words online being a roast 💀💀

[@starrynight_dev]: destinyyy ✨

Juntae could barely get the words out between his laughter. “So literally not even five minutes later, Suho spots the exact same rent/legal notice comment again. The poor fan must have typed it twice, desperate for help. And you could see Suho’s eyes light up like he just found his golden ticket.”

He mimicked Suho’s dramatic gasp, leaning forward with wide eyes.
“‘OH! OH!! That guy’s still here! Perfect. PERFECT timing!’”

Juntae slapped his diary for emphasis, still chuckling. “And before Sieun could even register what was happening, Suho grabs his wrist, drags him right into the frame, and goes — ‘You roasted me, now you fix it. My fan is scared his landlord will sue him, and you, mister smart-mouth, are gonna HELP HIM.’”

The chat went feral.

[@ash_draws]: OMG PETTY SUHO 😭😭😭

[@retrobit_01]: revenge arc speedrun 💀

[@mango_mochi]: DRAGGED INTO THE FRAMEEEE 😂

[@pixelwarrior99]: bf privilege is wild 😭

[@nooblet_99]: he said “my fan” like he owns us 😭😭😭

“Sieun looked so flustered at first,” Juntae said, grinning like the memory itself warmed him. “He literally blinked three times, pushed his hair back, muttered ‘Suho… stop this nonsense’ under his breath — but the phone was already in his face. No escape.”

Juntae straightened in his chair, adjusted his glasses, and dropped his voice into Sieun’s calm, matter-of-fact tone.
“‘If you’ve received a legal notice for unpaid rent, ignoring it will only make things worse. First, read your rental agreement carefully. Then reply with a proper written response — and always keep a copy. If you can’t pay right away, negotiate and make sure it’s in writing. And if the landlord files a case, you’ll have to appear in court and explain your side. Don’t ever just “block” someone who has legal rights over you.’”

Juntae whistled softly, shaking his head in admiration. “See the difference? Suho’s over there saying ‘pretend it doesn’t exist’ and Sieun basically gave a crash course in tenant rights on the spot.”

[@starrynight_dev]: BRO SWITCHED TO LAWYER MODE 🫡

[@ash_draws]: ‘don’t ever just block’ 💀 iconic

[@nooblet_99]: landlord watching this live rn shaking 😭

[@mango_mochi]: this man gave me anxiety AND solutions 😭😭😭

[@devquest]: sieun pls open a firm already 👏

“And then —” Juntae’s voice softened into something warm, though he was still grinning like it was the best memory ever, “— a few days later, Suho gets this long DM. From the same fan. They wrote: ‘Please tell your friend thank you. His advice gave me the courage to reply properly, and things are moving forward now.’”

Juntae tapped his pen against the page with mock solemnity. “And here’s the kicker — they didn’t even send it to Sieun. Nope. They sent it to Suho.”

He burst out laughing again. “And the way Suho puffed up… oh, you should’ve seen him. Chest out, chin high, grinning like he’d just saved the entire rental housing system. He kept waving his phone at Sieun like, ‘SEE? SEE?! Look at this, my fan is happy thanks to you!’”

[@mango_mochi]: FAN STILL SENDING IT TO SUHO I’M DEAD 😭😭😭

[@retrobit_01]: STAGE MOM SUHO MOMENT 💜

[@sketchaddict]: suho out here taking credit LMAO 💀

[@ash_draws]: cutest chaos origin story 😭😭😭

[@pixelwarrior99]: landlord case solved, suho still unsolved mystery 😂

Juntae groaned, covering his face with his hand before peeking back at the camera with a laugh. “Nooo… you guys don’t understand. Suho didn’t just read that thank-you letter DM once. He read it to all of us in the living room. Out loud. Every single word. And then on his next live? He read it again. I swear, we were all literally bored out of our minds. Even Sieun had that blank expression like, ‘why am I listening to this again.’”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And the funniest part? The fan admitted in the letter that he stalked Suho’s entire following list. Checked if Suho ever tagged Sieun. Then checked our accounts too, in case we had tagged him. And when he still found nothing? He gave up and sent the letter to Suho instead.”

[@ash_draws]: THE DEDICATION 😭😭😭

[@retrobit_01]: stalked ALL the follows 💀💀

[@mango_mochi]: sieun is like a cryptid no trace online 😂

[@nooblet_99]: man ran a whole FBI search 😭

Juntae tapped his pen against the diary, grinning. “But after that, it became a pattern. Every single time Suho went live… there was always someone typing a legal query in the comments. Always. Like the fans just knew Sieun was lurking somewhere in the background.”

He tilted his head, pretending to read off invisible comments.

‘I signed a job contract but the company won’t give me my joining letter. What do I do?’

‘My online order was fake — how can I get my money back?’

‘Neighbor built a wall blocking sunlight to my flat — is that legal?’

‘I’m being harassed on WhatsApp, can I file a case?’

“And every time,” Juntae continued, “Suho would turn into the biggest instigator. He’d grin at the screen, turn to Sieun, and go, ‘Ohhh, another one for you. Come on, my fan needs help!’ Then he’d drag him right into the frame.”

He adjusted his glasses, mimicking Sieun’s composed tone.

‘I signed a job contract but the company won’t give me my joining letter. What do I do?’
“‘If a company delays your joining letter, send them a registered written notice. If they fail, escalate it to the labour commissioner.’

‘My online order was fake — how can I get my money back?’
- ‘If your online order was fake, file a complaint with consumer court. Keep receipts, screenshots, everything.’

‘Neighbor built a wall blocking sunlight to my flat — is that legal?’
‘.....If your neighbor’s construction blocks your light or air, you can file a nuisance complaint with the municipal authority.’

‘I’m being harassed on WhatsApp, can I file a case?’

‘For harassment, yes — file a cybercrime report. Always keep screenshots. Evidence is everything.’”

Juntae smiled softly. “He was flustered every time Suho shoved him in, but once he started speaking? Full-on lawyer mode. No hesitation.”

[@starrynight_dev]: THIS MAN IS A NATIONAL SERVICE 🫡

[@ash_draws]: he gives mini law classes for free 😭😭

[@retrobit_01]: neighbor wall complaint got me crying 💀

[@mango_mochi]: cybercrime advice saved me fr 🥹

[@nooblet_99]: sieun = content, suho = cameraman 💀

Juntae’s grin softened into something warmer. “But the best part wasn’t even Sieun’s advice. It was Suho. The way he looked at him while he spoke… like he wasn’t even aware the camera was still on. He’d just sit there, chin propped on his hand, staring at Sieun with this… proud, soft expression. Like every word out of his mouth was the best thing he’d ever heard.”

He tapped his diary with a smile. “That’s when the fans started realizing. Sieun wasn’t just some ‘friend’ in Suho’s world. The adoration was bleeding out of his eyes. He looked at him like… much, much more.”

[@ash_draws]: THE WAY HE LOOKED AT HIM 🥹😭

[@starrynight_dev]: adoration bleeding out STOP 😭😭

[@retrobit_01]: man’s soft launch was unintentional 💀

[@mango_mochi]: even WE could feel it through the screen 🥺💜

[@nooblet_99]: suho wasn’t the lawyer but he caught a case (of feelings) 😂

Juntae’s smile lingered for a moment before dimming, his voice lowering just slightly. “But… not everyone was happy for Suho.”

He didn’t look straight at the camera — his eyes slid down to his diary, fingers tracing the edge of the page. “At that time, Suho was popular, sure… but not this popular. When people left negative comments about his … feelings … it was easy to brush off. It didn’t really matter, and Suho never paid attention. He never gave those words any space.”

His shoulders lifted in a small shrug, but there was heaviness in the gesture. “But the bigger he grew… the more intense it got. And now, today being South Korea’s one of the highest paid actors, when everyone calls him the nation’s husband…” He paused, lips pressing together, “things are pretty hard on him. Suddenly everyone thinks they get a say in who he should or shouldn’t love.”

Juntae fiddled with his pen, the grin from before fading into something sadder. “It’s the same comments over and over… people mocking their relationship. Saying Sieun isn’t worth y of him. That Suho deserves ‘better.’” His jaw tightened. “But if you’re really his fan, isn’t your job to accept the person he chooses? Isn’t supporting his happiness the whole point?”

[@violet_rose]: sieun is MORE than worthy. he’s everything. 😤💜

[@ash_draws]: not fans if they don’t respect his choice. period. 🥹

[@minty_mochi]: nation’s husband but sieun’s baby forever 🥺😭

[@ghostbyte]: we support HIM = we support THEM. always. 💜

[@starlitdreams]: trolls don’t get it. this love is real. 🥹✨

[@retrocat]: sieun makes him happiest. that’s all that matters 💀💜

Juntae gave a small, almost guilty smile. “The thing is… Suho doesn’t let it get to him. Because Sieun doesn’t let him. Sieun’s steady, you know? Always reminding him that trolls don’t matter. That the people who count are the ones who show up with love, not hate.”

His gaze softened again, voice gentling. “And maybe that’s why Suho can still laugh so freely. Because he knows Sieun’s got him. Always.”

Realizing he’d gone quiet too long, Juntae straightened in his chair and forced a grin. “Aaaanyway— not to get too deep. If Suho was here, he’d already be screaming at me for making the live serious.” He giggled, tapping his diary. “So let’s switch back to funny before he storms in to break my phone.”

The chat filled with laughing emojis, the mood slowly lifting again.

Juntae leaned forward, his smile turning a little knowing. “At some point… we all realized something. People didn’t just tune in for Suho’s modeling updates or our group banter. They came back because they loved watching Sieun talk.”

He laughed, tapping his diary against his knee. “Every time Sieun opened his mouth, the comments went nuts. Not only for the advice, but for him. The way he explained things so calmly, the way his bangs fell over his eyes, the way he’d push them back without even noticing. The chat was full of people typing stuff like—

[@prettycat]: his eyes are SO pretty omg 😭✨
[@damnyoulol]: bangs covering his face he looks like an angel 🥺
[@superweirdo]: pls tell him he’s the visual of the group 😭
[@metalpen3]: imagine getting legal advice from someone that pretty 💀

Juntae chuckled, shaking his head. “And of course, we never let Suho live it down. Every time the comments started calling Sieun pretty, we’d read them out loud just to tease him. Stuff like— ‘Wow, even your fans think Sieun’s prettier than you’ or ‘Careful Suho, what if someone steals him from you?’”

He mimed Suho’s reaction, puffing his cheeks and folding his arms like a sulky child. “He used to get so pouty after that. Clinging to Sieun like a little kid, muttering things like, ‘They’re supposed to be my fans, not his… and no one’s stealing him from me.’”

Juntae laughed, pen tapping against his diary. “It was hilarious. Jealous, whiny Suho was practically a routine after every live.”

[@nooblet_99]: cameraman + babysitter suho 💀

[@ash_draws]: jealous bf energy OFF THE CHARTS 😭😭😭

[@sketchaddict]: someone steal sieun? suho would cry 😭😂

[@mango_mochi]: pouty baby energyyy 💜

Juntae’s voice softened, a little more serious now. “Because here’s the thing — Suho never stopped asking Sieun to help. No matter how clingy or pouty he got after, the moment a legal query popped up, he’d push Sieun forward again. Every time. And he always said, ‘What if someone really needs the advice? What if they’re waiting for him to answer?’”

He smiled faintly, eyes shining with fondness. “And that’s Suho for you. Dramatic, whiny, jealous… but also proud, supportive, and never willing to let someone miss out on Sieun’s knowledge. The way he looked at him while Sieun spoke — it was pure adoration. Respect. Love that he couldn’t hide even if he tried.”

[@starrynight_dev]: the way suho LOOKS at him omg 🥹😭

[@ash_draws]: eyes full of loveeee 💜💜💜

[@retrobit_01]: suho: jealous bf / proud bf combo 💀

[@mango_mochi]: we knew before he did… he wasn’t just a “friend” 🥺

[@nooblet_99]: this is a kdrama in real life 😭✨

Juntae laughed softly, shaking his head like he was fondly scolding someone who wasn’t even there. “And then… of course… Suho got an idea. That boy always has ideas — ninety percent chaos, ten percent brilliance.”

He tapped his diary, grinning. “One day he comes bouncing into the room, waving his phone and going, ‘Listen, listen! Sieun should just give legal advice to people online! Everyone loves when he talks — this way he’ll actually be useful.’”

Juntae rolled his eyes affectionately. “But here’s the truth: Suho being Suho, his main reason wasn’t the helping people part. Nah. His real dream was to finally force Sieun into having a social account so he could tag him, flaunt him everywhere, and spam his comment section to death.”

He mimicked Suho’s pouty tone, his voice slightly higher.
“‘What’s the point of me posting pretty pictures if I can’t tag my own boyfriend in them? It’s criminal!’”

Juntae chuckled warmly. “Of course, he wasn’t wrong that Sieun’s advice could help people. And honestly, even Suho admitted it — he said, ‘Yeah yeah, fine, people will learn something about the law… but mainly, I need to tag him. He can’t escape me like this.’”

He shook his head, smiling like it was one of his favorite memories. “It was cute. Adorable, even. Suho had that naughty little glint in his eyes like a kid who just stole candy, but his heart was in the right place. Mischief and good cause all rolled into one.”

[@ash_draws]: SUHO’S REAL MOTIVE EXPOSED 😭😭😭

[@mango_mochi]: he just wanted to tag his bf omg 💜

[@retrobit_01]: chaos gremlin but adorable 💀

[@nooblet_99]: 90% petty, 10% noble 😂

“But then,” Juntae continued, voice a little more serious now, “Gotak — of all people — stepped in with the actual brain. He said, ‘Why don’t all of us make professional social media accounts? Not just Suho and Sieun. We can all use what we know and contribute something useful to society.’”

He nodded thoughtfully, pen resting on his diary. “That’s how it became bigger than just Suho’s mischievous little plan. Suho got what he wanted — Sieun online at last — but at the same time, we all joined in. Suho with his modeling tips, Sieun with law, Baku spreading safety awareness, Gotak sharing his self defence techniques, and me teaching gaming and coding.”

His eyes softened, pride flickering across his face. “What started as Suho’s playful, slightly selfish idea… turned into something good. Something wholesome. A way for all of us to give back.”

[@starrynight_dev]: from petty tagging agenda ➡️ community service 😭👏

[@ash_draws]: suho chaos = group growth 💜

[@mango_mochi]: wholesome AND naughty at the same time 🥹

[@sketchaddict]: honestly? iconic origin story 😂

The chat was overflowing again, hearts and fire emojis flying up the screen.

[@ash_draws]: omg this group is TOO COOL 😭😭

[@mango_mochi]: sieun saving lives with legal advice 🫡

[@retrobit_01]: gotak’s self-defense vids HELPED me sm 🙏

[@starrynight_dev]: detective + lawyer + model + firefighter + game dev = dream team 😳

[@devquest]: y’all are like a real kdrama squad 😂

Juntae nodded, laughing fondly as he read through them. “Yeah… I see a lot of you praising Gotak too. His self-defense videos — they’ve helped people out a lot. And honestly? That’s so like him. Being a detective means he has to stay highly alert, all the time. He’s always running, always chasing criminals, always ready to react. Sharing that skill with others… that’s just him, wanting people to be safe.”

He smiled warmly. “And Sieun — well, you’ve all seen it yourselves. He doesn’t sugarcoat, doesn’t show off. He just talks straight, gives advice that matters. And somehow, even that makes him look cooler than the rest of us combined.”

[@nooblet_99]: sieun = walking braincell & angel combo 😭😭😭

[@mango_mochi]: gotak literally protecting society on and off duty 🫡

[@ash_draws]: both of them are such role models 🥹

[@retrobit_01]: ngl this squad cooler than Avengers 💀

Juntae’s smile widened as he leaned into the camera. “And of course… Baku. I mean, how can I not mention him? You’ve all seen his videos — fire safety tips, rescue awareness, everything. But that’s just the surface. In real life, he’s out there every single day. When people are running away from danger, Baku’s the one running toward it.”

He paused, pen resting against his diary, eyes soft with respect. “I’ve seen him come home after fourteen-hour shifts, soot still on his sleeves, smelling like smoke, exhausted… but he never complains. He always says, ‘It’s part of the job.’ And then? He still has energy to go live and teach you guys how to use a fire extinguisher or what to do in an emergency. That’s Baku — brave, selfless, and just… a hero.”

[@weirddiva]: BAKU HERO ENERGY 🫡🔥

[@mochituna]: literally risking his life for strangers 😭😭😭

[@starrmynight]: firefighters >>> actual superheroes 🥹

[@shutupyoulol]: no words… just RESPECT 🙏

[@noonawicked]: baku nation rise 🫡

Juntae chuckled softly, shifting in his seat. “And Suho… ah, what do I even say about him? You all see the pouty, dramatic, jealous side — and yeah, that’s him too. But behind that? He’s the one who started all this. He’s the one who kept dragging Sieun into frame, who kept insisting that we all had something worth sharing. He saw potential in everyone here before we even believed it ourselves.”

His tone softened, warm with affection. “And outside of this? Suho’s incredible at what he does. Modeling isn’t easy — it takes discipline, patience, and confidence. Acting too. He’s worked so hard to get where he is. And yet, he still finds time to push us forward too. Always hyping us up, always supporting, even if he hides it behind whining and clinginess.”

Juntae smiled knowingly. “He’s not just a model or actor. He’s the glue. The heart of our group.”

[@mymanmylove]: SUHO THE HEART 🥹💜

[@papayayellow]: pouty but precious 😭😭😭

[@mintyfreedom]: started as chaos, ended as inspiration 👏

[@sketchaddict]: suho literally soft launching sieun into stardom 😂

[@golfieyard]: proud bf, proud friend 🥹✨

He leaned back in his cushioned chair, pen tapping lightly against his diary. “Really… all of them — Suho, Sieun, Baku, Gotak — they’re cool in their own ways. Different fields, different strengths. But when I look at them? I just feel proud. Lucky. Because yeah, I joke, I tease, I roast them… but truth is, they’re my heroes too.”

[@yourssuck]: NOOO STOP I’M GONNA CRY 😭😭😭

[@drrealo]: y’all are seriously friendship goals 🥹

[@hfycjf]: proud of ALL OF YOU 💜

[@weirdoadlo]: this live turned into a TED Talk but I’m here for it 👏

[@hrruwoo]: real squad energy 🫶

Juntae leaned back a little, expression softening into something proud. “You know… sometimes I just look at all of them and think, wow. My friends are so damn cool. Suho with his acting, Sieun with law, Baku running into fires, Gotak chasing down criminals… they’re all giving something back in their own way.”

His smile lingered, eyes glinting with quiet respect. “I joke a lot, I tease them even more… but honestly? I couldn’t be prouder to call them my friends.”

[@starrynight_dev]: STOP YOU’RE MAKING ME CRY 😭😭😭

[@mybanana]: wholesome juntae moment 🥺💜

[@mango_mochi]: y’all are seriously inspirational 🫶

[@oeachlobe]: imagine being in a squad like this 😭

[@devquest]: respect++ for all of you 🙌

Juntae was mid-flow, explaining something with his diary open, when he leaned back in his chair, trying to get comfortable. The camera angle shifted slightly, widening the frame. He paused mid-sentence as the comments started blowing up.

[@peachy_jams]: OMG WHAT’S HAPPENING BEHIND HIM 😭😭

[@console_kid]: BACKGROUND CHAOS ALERT 💀

[@minty_mochi]: don’t turn around just LOOK 👀

[@skullbunny23]: IS THAT BAKU?? HELLOOOO 😳

Instead of turning his head, Juntae narrowed his eyes at his phone, watching the reflection of what the fans were spamming about.

Behind him, a little further back in the living room, Gotak was sitting calmly on the soft couch — one arm draped over the backrest, eyes fixed on the TV with that unreadable detective face.

Then, out of nowhere, Baku came striding in. Fresh clothes, hair damp from a quick shower, looking like he’d just walked off an ad shoot instead of a shift. And without hesitation, he jumped over the side of the couch and landed right beside Gotak.

The force nearly sent Gotak sprawling. His eyes went wide, his face went completely blank in that classic “did he seriously just do that” way.

Baku leaned back, lips curving into a smirk. “Weak,” he muttered.

Gotak scoffed, jaw tightening. “Yeah? Weak, you say?”

Gotak didn’t waste a second. He grabbed a cushion off the couch and started swinging at Baku with quick, sharp strikes.

Baku dodged each one effortlessly, laughing under his breath, the smirk never leaving his face. “That all you got?” he teased, leaning just out of reach every time.

The chat went feral.

[@cyberbun]: GOTAK WITH THE PILLOW I’M CRYING 😂😂😂

[@pixelpeach]: detective reflexes even in a pillow fight 😭

[@ghostbyte]: baku dodging like he’s still in training 😭😭

[@sunnyclouds]: this is better than Netflix rn 💜

Then — in one smooth motion — Baku ducked the next swing, tackled Gotak sideways into the cushions, and pinned him down with a laugh. Before Gotak could react, Baku leaned in and planted a huge, exaggerated kiss on his cheek.

The smack echoed across the room — loud, deliberate, impossible to ignore.

Gotak froze, eyes wide again, his cheeks flushing pink despite the blank expression he tried to keep. Baku leaned back, hair messy, grin smug and full of mischief. “Got you,” he whispered, voice low and teasing.

Gotak groaned, covering his face with one hand, but the corners of his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

Fans absolutely losing their minds:

[@neon_nova]: DID WE JUST WITNESS A CHEEK KISS LIVE 😭😭😭

[@berrybyte]: THE SMACKING SOUND OMGGG 💀💀

[@tinyteacup]: gotak blushing… I REPEAT HE’S BLUSHING 🥺

[@voidlingx]: baku’s smirk >>>> society 😭

[@caramelchaos]: couple reveal speedrun 😭✨

Juntae finally pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head with a laugh. “You guys see what I deal with? I can’t do one normal live without background chaos.”

[@minty_mochi]: NOOO don’t stop them 😭

[@sunnyclouds]: background couple >>>> main topic rn 😂

[@ghostbyte]: juntae just became the cameraman 💀

Juntae was already giggling, hand half-covering his mouth as the live chat went absolutely insane. Hearts, emojis, caps lock everywhere.

[@minty_mochi]: HOW ARE THEY SO CUTE AND SO CHAOTIC AT THE SAME TIME 😭😭😭

[@berrybyte]: background couple >>> main content 💀

[@sunnyclouds]: detective x firefighter supremacy 🫡🔥

[@tinyteacup]: STOP THIS IS A KDRAMA SCENE 😭✨

[@ghostbyte]: i logged in for game tips and got FREE ROMANCE 😭

And then suddenly… the chaos slowed. Baku, who had been smirking and teasing a moment ago, went soft. He slid an arm around Gotak’s shoulders and pulled him close, voice gentler now.

“Rough day? How was it?” he asked, gaze steady.

Gotak’s expression softened too, the blank detective mask slipping for once. “Long,” he murmured, his voice low, “but it’s over now.” The light caught on tiny droplets still clinging to Baku’s face from washing up earlier, and for a second he looked almost unreal.

Gotak reached up to push back the damp strands of Baku’s hair, brushing them away from his forehead. But before he could pull his hand back, Baku tilted his head and pressed a soft kiss against Gotak’s knuckles.

The chat exploded.

[@starglitch]: KISSING HIS HAND????? I’M DONE 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: oh my god oh my god oh my god 😭💜

[@cyberbun]: this is ILLEGAL levels of softness 😭

[@peachy_jams]: i can’t believe we’re watching this live 🥺

Gotak’s eyes softened even more, his usual sharpness replaced by something tender. And then Baku leaned down again, pressing a quieter, gentler kiss against his cheek this time, lingering a second longer. Their eyes met — warm, steady, unspoken words flowing between them.

It wasn’t chaos anymore. It was love. Pure, soft, and visible to thousands of viewers.

[@pixelpeach]: LOVEY DOVEY EYESSS 😭😭😭

[@sketchbyte]: bro they’re staring like the world disappeared 🥹

[@nami.art]: GET MARRIED ALREADY 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: firefighter + detective romance my heart 💜💜💜

Juntae finally burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Sometimes I think I’m living in a zoo,” he said into the phone, still giggling.

Gotak’s sharp detective gaze softened as he stared at Baku, his eyes scanning every detail like he was memorizing him again after being apart. He didn’t speak for a long minute — just studied Baku’s face. The faint red on his cheeks from the heat of the shower. The damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. The water droplets still sliding down his temple, catching the light like sparks.

Baku noticed, lips twitching into a tiny smile. And then, without warning, he shook his head, sending a spray of cool droplets across Gotak’s face.

Gotak squeezed his eyes shut, sighing heavily, but when he didn’t open them right away… the chat held its breath. Finally, he whispered, his voice a low murmur, “You’re safe…”

For a second, Baku’s smirk faded. He tilted his head, studying Gotak in return, his eyes burning with something softer. “Were you worried?” he asked quietly, the question heavy, intimate.

Gotak finally opened his eyes, meeting his gaze — sharp, steady, unreadable, but the answer was already there.
Baku’s lips curved as he leaned in, brushing them softly against Gotak’s forehead. “This,” he whispered, “this is how I feel when you’re out there on those deadly missions. When you’re chasing criminals without backup. Every time, this is me.”

Gotak rolled his eyes with a quiet glare, though the tips of his ears burned. “Is it necessary to say this every single time?”

“Yes,” Baku replied simply, his grin widening before he smacked another kiss on Gotak’s forehead — louder this time, exaggerated like a seal — then wrapped his arms around him. One hand rose to ruffle the front of Gotak’s hair gently. “Because I need you to know. I’m fine. I’ll always come back.”

Gotak’s defenses dropped. His fingers clenched lightly in Baku’s shirt before tugging him down, hiding his face against the crook of Baku’s neck. His voice came muffled, but his arms wrapped around him, holding tight.

Baku smiled, closing his eyes, one hand sliding up to gently stroke the strands of Gotak’s hair. “I’m fine. I’ll always come back to you.”

And Gotak’s grip only tightened in response.

[@ash_draws]: “you’re safe” I’M CRYING 😭😭😭

[@starlitdreams]: THIS is love. quiet. real. 🥹💜

[@minty_mochi]: firefighter + detective protecting each other STOP 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: the forehead kiss killed me i’m gone 🥹

[@violet_rose]: i can’t breathe this is so soft 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: not chaos anymore, just home 💜

Juntae’s laughter softened into something more tender. He adjusted the phone and said quietly, “This… this is what happens every time Baku comes home. And honestly? It’s the same when it’s Gotak on one of his missions. Then Baku’s the one pacing, restless, worrying. And Sieun’s the one trying to calm him down.”

He exhaled, smiling fondly, his tone reverent. “They’re so different, but the way they love each other… it’s the same. Raw. Protective. Gentle in a way that makes your chest feel warm.”
The chat filled with hearts, as if thousands of people were feeling that warmth at once.

“Alright, let’s give them some privacy before this turns into a drama episode.”

He reached forward, fiddling with his phone to change the angle.

But the second the frame shifted away from Baku and Gotak… the camera accidentally landed on another corner of the room.

And there — half-hidden but unmistakable — another couple was caught in the shot.

The chat absolutely lost its mind.

[@minty_mochi]: ANOTHER COUPLE??? HELLOOO 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: NOT AGAIN 💀💀💀

[@sunnyclouds]: THIS HOUSE IS A SOAP OPERA 😭😭😭

[@berrybyte]: ZOO ENERGY CONFIRMED 😂

When Juntae shifted the camera, trying to give Baku and Gotak privacy, the lens accidentally swung to the other side of the couch.

And there… the scene was something else entirely.

Chapter Text

Sieun sat curled on the far end of the sofa, wrapped in soft, fluffy home clothes that made him look impossibly comfortable. His damp hair was still tousled from a recent shower, little strands sticking to his forehead and temples. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, threatening to fall, but he didn’t seem to notice.

A thick book rested in his hands, the kind only he would read so casually after a long day. His legs were stretched low across the couch, his whole posture radiating that calm, absorbed focus he always carried when he disappeared into words.

And then… right beside his legs, sitting on the floor, was Ahn Suho — the great action star, the larger-than-life model who turned heads everywhere. But here, in this room, he wasn’t shining for the cameras.

He sat cross-legged on the rug, utterly at ease, a small nailcutter in his hand. One by one, carefully, gently, he trimmed Sieun’s nails, holding his baby’s leg so gently — his head bent low, his touch precise, deliberate.

There was a soft, unshakable smile on his face. The kind of smile that wasn’t for the fans, or the flashing lights, or the magazines. It was quiet pride. The kind that said this is mine, this is us, and I’m happy just being here like this.

Every now and then he glanced up at Sieun — not to check if he was watching, but just to drink him in. The bookish boy with wet hair, glasses slipping down, completely lost in another world. And Suho’s eyes softened even further, as though cutting his nails was the most important role he’d ever taken.

It wasn’t loud like Baku and Gotak’s chaos. It wasn’t even playful. It was something deeper. Pure care. Pure devotion. The simple, tender intimacy of everyday life.

A movie star, reduced to a boy on the floor with a nailcutter — smiling like he’d won the world just because he got to do this for Sieun.

And Sieun, oblivious as ever, lost in his book, letting him.

The second the camera lingered on them, the comments exploded.

[@peachy_jams]: SUHO SITTING ON THE FLOOR I’M SCREAMING 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: cutting his NAILS??? that’s wifey behavior omg 🥺

[@retrocat]: i can’t breathe this is domestic as hell 💜

[@minty_mochi]: action star turned househusband 😭✨

[@pixelbyte]: he’s smiling like he won the lottery 😭😭😭

And then, like a man possessed, Suho leaned down further.

At first, Juntae thought he was adjusting Sieun’s foot, or brushing something off. But no — Suho sniffed his leg. Right there, with zero hesitation.

Juntae blinked, his pen frozen mid-air. The chat exploded.

But Suho wasn’t done. He sniffed again — too long this time, like he was memorizing every bit of him. Then once more, lingering shamelessly before pressing his lips softly against Sieun’s skin. A kiss, tender and reverent, right on his leg.

Sieun twitched, breaking out of his book-trance. His head tilted down slowly, glasses slipping further down his nose, and he found Suho still sitting at his feet — still holding the nailcutter in one hand, lips pressed against his leg like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Suho looked up at him then, eyes bright, a goofy but utterly devoted smile tugging at his lips. His entire expression screamed mine.

It wasn’t just playful chaos anymore. There was love bleeding from every movement. Care in the way he trimmed each nail so neatly. Clinginess in the way he refused to move away, burying his face against Sieun’s leg like it was home. Devotion in the kiss, soft and lingering, almost worshipful.

Suho wasn’t Ahn Suho the action star here. He was just Suho — hopelessly, shamelessly in love.

[@starrynight_dev]: HE SNIFFED?????? 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: not once not twice but THREE TIMES 😭💀

[@ash_draws]: kissing his leg like it’s holy ground 🥹

[@nami.art]: sieun looked down like “is this man for real” 😂

[@retrobit_01]: clingy bf agenda EXPOSED 😭💜

[@minty_mochi]: this is LOVE. DEVOTION. CARE. PERIOD.

Juntae’s phone nearly slipped out of his hand as he tried to process what he’d just seen. His eyes were wide, his face a mixture of disbelief and secondhand embarrassment — but deep down? It didn’t feel disgusting. And that was what shocked him most. Because instead of cringing, all he could think was, “Wow….”

The comments went absolutely feral.

[@cloudypanda]: HE SNIFFED HIM AGAIN I’M GONE 😭😭😭

[@nightowl88]: that’s not love it’s OBSESSION 💀

[@berrybyte]: juntae’s phone SHAKING 😭😭😭

[@kdrama_addict]: this is better than any series rn 😭✨

Trying to cover his laugh, Juntae angled the phone again — and this time the frame widened enough to catch Gotak and Baku on the other side of the couch.

Both of them were staring.

Gotak’s eyes were wide, his face twisted into a perfect “I might throw up right here” expression. His detective cool was completely shattered.

Baku, on the other hand, looked… awe-struck. His lips parted slightly, eyes glinting with mischief, like he’d just gotten a brand new idea.

And then, before anyone could stop him, he turned toward Gotak.

Baku leaned in with a grin, already shifting closer. “C’mere, weakling,” he teased, lowering his head dramatically like he was about to sniff Gotak’s arm just to copy Suho’s move.

Gotak’s eyes went wider. “No way,” he deadpanned. And before Baku could get close — THUD.

Gotak’s leg shot out, kicking him right off the couch.

Baku tumbled to the floor with a yelp, sprawled out dramatically while Gotak sat back with his arms crossed, looking like he’d just solved a case.

The comment section was unreadable chaos.

[@strawberrymilk]: BAKU TRIED TO COPY OMGGG 😭😭😭

[@techno_cat]: gotak’s kick had NO hesitation 💀💀

[@lunarflower]: man really said NOT TODAY 🤣

[@violet_sky]: baku falling = my new lockscreen 😂

[@chibimochi]: suho sniffing bf / baku eating floor LMAO 💜

It was pure chaos, but layered with love. Suho still clung shamelessly to Sieun, eyes glowing with devotion. Sieun’s soft twitch and downward glance betrayed he wasn’t really upset. Baku lay groaning on the floor, already plotting round two, while Gotak sat stiffly, pretending to be disgusted even as the tips of his ears burned red.

And Juntae? Juntae could only giggle helplessly into his phone. “You guys see why I say I’m living in a zoo? Because this—” he pointed toward the madness behind him, still laughing, “—this is not normal. Not normal at all.”

[@cottonbun]: this is the CUTEST CHAOS 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: zoo? more like paradise 🥹

[@ghostbyte]: i’d pay for a 24/7 livestream of this house 💜

[@dramaluv]: chaos + love = best content ever 😭

From behind his glasses, Sieun finally looked down, eyes narrowing at the sight of Suho pressing soft kisses onto his leg. His face twisted into a look of absolute disgust — brows furrowed, lips pressed tight, the kind of expression that said “what is this idiot doing.”

He tugged his leg back sharply, muttering under his breath like he couldn’t believe what was happening. But before he could move it far, Suho’s hand closed around his ankle, firm but gentle, refusing to let go.

“No,” Suho said softly — but his voice carried a stubbornness, almost desperate. He pulled Sieun’s leg back onto his lap, lowering his head immediately to kiss it again. And again. And again.

Every press of his lips was slow, deliberate, overflowing with affection. He didn’t care about the disgusted face above him. Completely unaware that thousands of people were watching. To Suho, this wasn’t embarrassing — it was devotion. Worship.

There was a warmth radiating from him, his smile breaking between kisses, his eyes shining like he was proud to be allowed this close at all.

He looked up briefly, that goofy grin plastered across his face, eyes wide and unashamed. “I’m not stopping,” he whispered, voice half-playful but heavy with sincerity. “You’re mine. Let me do this.”

Then he lowered his head again, peppering more kisses across Sieun’s shin and ankle, clinging like a puppy desperate for affection — but instead of asking for it, he gave it in waves. Warmth, care, obsession, all bleeding through his touch.

Sieun’s disgusted mask didn’t last. His brows softened slightly, lips twitching in the faintest crack of emotion, like he couldn’t quite fight Suho’s intensity.

To anyone else, it might have looked absurd, even ridiculous — a famous action star kissing someone’s leg like it was the most sacred thing in the world. But to Suho? It was real. His love wasn’t polished or pretty. It was raw, clingy, obsessive… and somehow, heartbreakingly tender.

The room around them blurred into noise. The laughter, the chaos, the teasing — none of it mattered. In that moment, Suho’s entire world was in his hands.

[@minty_mochi]: HE SAID NO 😭😭😭

[@peachy_jams]: puppy bf energy OFF THE CHARTS 🥺

[@ash_draws]: this isn’t obsession it’s devotion 😭💜

[@ghostbyte]: suho holding on like his life depends on it 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: rawest romance i’ve ever seen omg 💀💀

After his shameless kisses, Suho finally settled, his hands sliding lower along Sieun’s calf. He began to massage his leg slowly, thumbs pressing gently, careful not to disturb his book. His head tilted up just enough to meet Sieun’s eyes.

“Keep studying, baby,” Suho whispered with a smile that was far too proud, far too affectionate for something so simple. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud. It was just… him, pouring all his devotion into those words.

Sieun lowered his book a fraction, giving Suho a look that could only be described as exasperated — sharp eyes behind his slipping glasses, mouth pressed tight like he wanted to scold him.

But then… his lips twitched again. Just barely. A crack in his armor. A moment so quick, so subtle — but both Juntae and the thousands of viewers caught it.

The chat went feral.

[@cloudybun]: DID HE JUST CALL HIM BABY 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: the LIP TWITCH I REPEAT HIS LIPS TWITCHED 😭✨

[@ghostbyte]: this is disgusting… and yet so cute help 😭💀

[@minty_mochi]: no cuz i want THIS kind of love 🥺

[@retrocat]: suho massaging like he’s worshipping him 💜

[@sunnyclouds]: clingy puppy bf energy overload 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: this isn’t obsession, it’s devotion and i’m crying 🥹

Suho didn’t even notice the chat exploding completely unaware. His focus was locked on Sieun — his book, his damp hair, the soft twitch of his lips. He looked at him like he was witnessing a miracle, like he’d been given a gift he didn’t deserve.

His hands kneaded gently, reverently, as though massaging Sieun’s legs was some sacred duty. His smile stayed, but it wasn’t goofy anymore — it was soft, warm, drenched in awe. Every press of his fingers whispered, “I love you. I adore you. You’re mine.”

It should have been embarrassing. It should have been weird. But somehow, it wasn’t. Suho’s clinginess, his obsession, his over-the-top puppy energy — it was softened by the way he gazed at Sieun. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t a game. It was pure care. The kind of love that left no space for doubt.

Even the viewers who gagged at first couldn’t look away. Because it was too raw, too intimate, too real.

Suho carefully wrapped the tiny pile of trimmed nails in a tissue, as if handling something delicate. He stood, padded over to the bin, and dropped it in — turning back with the proudest look on his face. Then dropped down on his knees where he was previously sitting.

Like he’d just finished some heroic task. Like he’d saved the world. His whole body radiated “praise me.” If he’d had a tail, it would’ve been wagging furiously.

He glanced at Sieun expectantly, eyes bright, lips twitching in a smile he couldn’t contain.

Sieun lowered his book, glancing at the dustbin and then back at Suho. For a moment, his face was unreadable. Then, slowly, his lips twitched.

Before anyone could believe it was happening, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Suho’s hair.

Suho froze — and then melted, his grin stretching so wide it almost hurt. “One more,” he whispered, shamelessly.

And Sieun obliged. One kiss. Then another. Then another, softer each time, brushing against his hairline like a quiet promise.

Suho looked like he might actually explode from happiness. His invisible tail was wagging hard enough to knock over the furniture. He settled back at Sieun’s legs, continuing the slow, steady massage — his smile boyish, his eyes glowing with adoration.

Every glance up at Sieun screamed mine, mine, mine.

Then Sieun did something unexpected. He shifted his hand forward, fingers twitching ever so slightly. It wasn’t dramatic — it was subtle, almost hesitant.

Suho noticed instantly. He slid his hand into Sieun’s like it was meant to be there, looking up with wide, hopeful eyes.

Sieun didn’t say anything. He just brought Suho’s hand to his lips and kissed it. Softly. Once. Twice. Slowly.

Suho went bright red, his whole face heating up, lips parting in stunned silence. His hand trembled faintly in Sieun’s grasp, overwhelmed.

And then — the final blow. Sieun leaned down one last time and pressed a soft kiss against Suho’s cheek. No smirk, no sarcasm. Just quiet, genuine affection.

Then he pulled back, slipped his glasses up, and calmly returned to his book as if nothing had happened.

Suho sat there, stunned, blushing crimson, massaging Sieun’s leg with a reverence so raw it looked like worship.

[@minty_mochi]: HE KISSED HIS HAIR??? HIS CHEEK??? 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: suho is RED he’s literally glowing 😭💜

[@starglitch]: invisible tail wagging so hard rn omg 💀

[@ash_draws]: this isn’t love it’s DEVOTION 🥹✨

[@nami.art]: sieun kissing his hand… that’s marriage coded 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: suho worshipping his bf live on camera and i’m crying

The comments had shifted from pure chaos to softer curiosity.

[@peachy_jams]: what’s Sieun reading?? 🥺

[@minty_mochi]: he looks so cozy omg tell us the book!!

[@ghostbyte]: suho’s smile rn is unreal 😭😭😭

[@tinyteacup]: this is like… love in its purest form 🥹✨

[@berrybyte]: they’re disgusting but so cute i want the same 😭💜

Juntae tilted his head, watching through the camera, his pen forgotten on the diary. His voice softened, dropping the usual teasing edge.

“You know…” he began slowly, “in the past, it was actually Sieun taking care of Suho. Just like this.”

He let out a quiet laugh, not mocking but filled with something warm. “They’ve both had it real hard. Harder than most of you know. And I guess… when you’ve gone through that together, this—” he gestured faintly at Suho kneeling by Sieun’s legs, hands moving gently, smiling like his entire world was right there “—this just makes sense.”

On the screen, Suho’s head was bowed again, thumbs pressing slow circles into Sieun’s calf. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t distracted — it was as if massaging Sieun’s legs was the most important thing he could ever do.

And he was smiling. That wide, warm, boyish grin that couldn’t be faked. His eyes flicked up every so often to catch a glimpse of Sieun, full of awe and quiet pride, like he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to be allowed this close.

It wasn’t polished or pretty. It was raw. Honest.

Obsession, yes. Devotion, absolutely. But most of all, love.

Juntae leaned back in his chair, lips twitching in a smile he didn’t fight this time. His chest felt warm, almost heavy, watching them.

“They drive me crazy most days,” he admitted softly, eyes still on the screen, “but… seeing this? Seeing Suho like this, clinging to him, smiling while he does something so simple? It makes me feel warm too.”

[@ash_draws]: STOP JUNTAE YOU MADE ME SOB 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: past struggles ➡️ love like this 🥹💜

[@starglitch]: suho massaging like he’s worshipping him 😭

[@minty_mochi]: i want this kind of devotion pls 😭😭😭

[@cloudybun]: this isn’t obsession it’s pure love 🥺

Juntae pushed his glasses up, scanning the scrolling flood of comments. “And to answer your question,” he began warmly, “Sieun’s studying for his prosecutor exam. That’s what he’s reading right now. He studies whenever he can squeeze out a minute. Doesn’t matter if it’s morning, midnight, or when the rest of us are asleep — he’ll have a book in hand, notes open, brain still running.”

He paused, voice lowering into respect. "And remember — Sieun’s already working as a lawyer. He spends his entire day in court, handling cases, preparing for trials, reading through endless stacks of papers for his next hearings… and somehow, even after all that, he still takes out time to study. Late nights, early mornings, whenever he can. Even when he’s exhausted, he pushes himself.”

Juntae chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Honestly, I don’t know how he does it. Some days it feels like he’s running on nothing but coffee and sheer willpower. And yet, he never stops.”

The camera caught Suho then — still on the rug, massaging Sieun’s legs like it was his only purpose, his eyes fixed on him with glowing pride. His lips curved in a smile that said that’s my person.

“And Suho?” Juntae continued, smiling fondly. “He takes care of him the way only Suho can. Because Sieun forgets to eat sometimes. Forgets to rest. Forgets to look up from those papers. And Suho can’t stand it. He’ll throw tantrums, stomp through the whole mansion, get whiny and clingy like a little kid— but he’ll make sure Sieun eats. He’ll put food right in front of him, feed him if he has to.”

Juntae laughed under his breath, pen tapping the diary. “He calls it ‘taking care of his baby’ — though I think we all know who’s really baby here.”

The camera caught it. Suho leaned down and pressed his forehead against Sieun’s knee, still smiling like he was proud just to be there.

Sieun, without looking up from his book, let his hand drift down to Suho’s hair — absent, natural, but tender. The kind of small gesture that carried more weight than words.

It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t flashy. It was pure, raw devotion. The hardworking attorney, pushing himself through exhaustion. And the clingy, lovesick star, determined to be his anchor.

[@ash_draws]: power couple 🥹

[@minty_mochi]: yeon sieun the cool calm lawyer… i’d hire him in a heartbeat 😭

[@nami.art]: @minty_mochi he is expensive af you can’t afford him🥺

[@minty_mochi]: omg fuck off @nami.art 😭

[@retrocat]: imagine working all day in court and still studying 😭💜

[@ghostbyte]: suho feeding his “baby” >>> my heart 💀

[@pixelheart]: raw love. pure devotion. i’m crying 😭😭😭

[@nami.art]: he’s tired, overworked, and still glowing… and suho looks at him like he’s the whole sky 🥺

As the comments scrolled, a new wave filled the screen.

[@berrybyte]: but how does Suho even find the time???

[@ash_draws]: he’s literally the top paid actor in korea rn 😭

[@retrocat]: busiest action star and still doing THIS???

[@minty_mochi]: when does he even sleep?? 🥺

Juntae leaned closer to the camera, voice softening into something almost reverent. “You’re right. Suho’s schedule is insane. He’s one of the highest paid actors in Korea, always filming, always on set, always running from one commitment to the next. But here’s the thing—”

He smiled faintly, eyes warm. “Suho has a rule. A rule he made for himself. No matter how busy, no matter how late the shoot, no matter how drained he is… he will always be home before Sieun. Always. He needs to be the one waiting, the one to welcome him back home.”

“Sometimes it’s simple,” Juntae continued. “He gets home early, pushes his hair back, and we cook together. I usually help him — chopping vegetables, stirring sauces. On some days, if he’s completely swamped, I handle most of the cooking myself. And when Baku’s home early, he jumps in too, usually burning something but trying his best.”

He laughed softly. “And of course, there are days when we’re all too tired. Those nights we just order delivery or go out for a quick dinner. But—” Juntae raised his finger for emphasis, his smile widening, “—Suho? He’s always home before Sieun. Without fail. Waiting.”

His expression softened, almost wistful. “And when Sieun walks through that door? Suho drops everything. He’s there at the entrance, arms wide open, hugging him like he’s been gone for years. It doesn’t matter if Sieun’s covered in courtroom fatigue, if his hands are full of case papers — Suho wraps around him like he can’t breathe without it. And honestly? Maybe he can’t.”

Juntae shook his head lightly, chuckling with affection. “It’s not just routine. It's an obsession, in the sweetest way. Suho’s clingy, needy — he has to be the one Sieun sees first when he comes home. He cooks, he waits, he hugs him, he fusses. And in those moments, even the top-paid action star, the famous face the world knows… he’s just Suho. A boy hopelessly in love.”

[@nami.art]: HIS RULE IS TO BE HOME FIRST 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: this is LOVE this is DEVOTION omg 🥹

[@minty_mochi]: waiting at the door every night like a puppy 🐶💜

[@ash_draws]: he’s not just obsessed he’s POSSESSIVE in the cutest way 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: top action star outside / clingy bf at home 😭✨

[@pixelheart]: i want this. i want someone waiting for me like that 😭

[@cottonbun]: this isn’t just love this is RELIGION 😭😭😭

[@neonbyte]: imagine being the top action star and still rushing home like a puppy 🐶

[@violet_rose]: HE WAITS AT THE DOOR FOR HIM EVERY DAY??? 🥹✨

[@kdramaluvr]: someone write a drama about this pls 😭😭😭

[@starlitdreams]: i can’t stop crying he’s so devoted 💜

[@tinyclouds]: clingy, obsessed, possessive suho >>> any man alive

[@pixelpeach]: THIS RULE IS THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER HEARD 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: forget red carpets, his runway is waiting for sieun to come home 💀

[@mango_milk]: he cooks?? he hugs?? he waits?? how is he REAL 😭😭😭

[@retrobit_01]: this isn’t boyfriend behavior, this is HUSBAND behavior 😭

[@sunnyclouds]: obsessed in the most romantic way 😭✨

[@ash_draws]: this is the kind of love ppl pray for 🥹

The flood of emojis and screaming slowed for a moment, replaced by softer words.

[@starlitdreams]: this is so pure… my heart hurts 🥹

[@minty_mochi]: warmest love i’ve ever seen 😭😭😭

[@violet_rose]: i want someone to love me like THAT 🫶

[@ghostbyte]: it feels like home just watching them 😭

[@tinyteacup]: pure devotion >>> any fairy tale 💜

In the stream of hearts and laughing emojis, one comment stood out, typed in bold caps:

[@neonbyte]: NOOO IS THIS WHY SUHO SKIPS LITERALLY EVERY INDUSTRY PARTY??? HE NEVER GOES ANYWHERE 😭😭😭

Juntae blinked at the screen, then laughed softly, nodding. “Yeaahh… honestly, that’s true. Suho actually does like parties. He’s not against them — he’ll have fun if we’re all at, like, class reunions, or if a close friend is hosting something. Those times, yeah, he’ll show up. But industry parties?” He shook his head gently. “He hardly ever goes. And if he does? He doesn’t stay for long.”

He tilted his head, smiling with fondness. “He always comes back home. Says he likes staying here, with us. And honestly? We all feel the same way.”

The comment section went wild:

[@softclouds]: omg i’d miss parties too if i had a home like yours 😭😭😭

[@violet_rose]: who tf would choose champagne networking over THAT kind of love 😭💜

[@minty_mochi]: imagine sieun waiting at home >>>> red carpet 🥹

[@ghostbyte]: he’s literally living the dream boyfriend life 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: no wonder he glows on screen… man is happy at HOME 😭😭

[@pixelheart]: bro said SKIP THE GLAMOUR, GIVE ME MY BABY 🥹

[@retrocat]: action star outside, golden retriever househusband at home 😭💀

[@starlitdreams]: i get it now. i’d ditch parties forever if i had that family 🥹

Juntae chuckled at the flood of reactions, eyes soft behind his glasses. “See what I mean? It’s not about missing out. It’s about choosing what feels right. For Suho, that’s always home.”

Behind him, you could almost feel the warmth of what “home” meant: Sieun with his book, Baku and Gotak bickering on the couch, the smell of food wafting from the kitchen. Suho, probably clinging to Sieun already, waiting for him to look up and smile.

And suddenly, the fans understood: why Suho skipped the flashing lights, the champagne, the endless mingling. He already had everything worth celebrating — right there, in his living room.

Juntae exhaled slowly, his usual grin fading into something softer. He nodded, eyes flicking to Suho on the floor, still massaging Sieun’s legs with that lovesick smile, and to Sieun, calm and steady, quietly letting him.

“They really are the purest couple I’ve ever seen,” Juntae murmured. “Even Baku and Gotak… they’re the same. All of them. They love each other so much it’s terrifying sometimes.”

He tapped his diary, eyes distant like he was remembering. “They would go against the whole world for it. No hesitation. No fear. They’d burn it all down if they had to — just for each other.”

His voice dropped lower, touched with awe. “My four friends… every single one of them is insane in love. Completely gone. And maybe that’s why it’s so beautiful. Because it’s not perfect, it’s not polished — it’s raw. Obsession, devotion, possession… all tangled up in this kind of love that feels unstoppable.”

The camera lingered on Suho. His face was flushed red, his smile helpless, his hands gentle but insistent as he kneaded Sieun’s calves. He looked up at him every few seconds like a puppy desperate for acknowledgment, glowing with warmth. His eyes were full of awe, like he was staring at the only thing that mattered in the world.

It was clingy. Needy. But heartbreakingly affectionate. A man who had everything — fame, money, recognition — and yet all he wanted was this. Sieun’s quiet presence. His soft twitch of lips. His rare, tender kisses.

[@ash_draws]: “burn the world for love” I’M SOBBING 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: this isn’t just romance, it’s devotion 🥹✨

[@berrybyte]: four friends, four insane loves… i’m ruined 😭

[@minty_mochi]: suho massaging like it’s worship 😭😭😭

[@peachy_jams]: he looks at sieun like he’s the only person alive 💜

[@starrynight_dev]: love this raw doesn’t exist anymore… except here 🥹

The comments scrolled so fast it was nearly unreadable — fans pouring their hearts out.

[@peachy_jams]: i want a love like theirs so bad 😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi]: warmest cutest couple ever 🥺✨

[@ghostbyte]: this feels like home love 🫶

[@retrocat]: pls where do i apply for a suho 😭

[@violet_rose]: obsessed but soft is the BEST combo 🥹

Then someone in the comments threw a different kind of question:

[@tinyteacup]: why does Suho never act in romance movies tho?? it’s always action this, action that 😭

More joined in:

[@ash_draws]: imagine him in a rom-com pls 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: top star but no romance dramas… WHY 💀

Juntae blinked, tilting his head as if the thought had never occurred to him before. He scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly at the camera.

“Actually… even I don’t know,” he admitted. “I never asked him about it. Never thought about it actually. But maybe it’s because he just… likes action more? He’s always been like that. In school, Suho was ridiculously athletic. Fast, strong, the kind of guy who could pick up any sport and master it. And yeah… he was an MMA pro back then.”

He chuckled softly, the corner of his lips lifting. “Guess it just carried over, huh? He likes moving, fighting, doing stunts — all that adrenaline. It’s where he shines.”

The comments lit up instantly, fans gushing not only about Suho’s talent but how the thought of him in romance was even funnier given how clingy he was off-screen.

[@starrynight_dev]: MMA PRO?? okay superstar 😳👏

[@ash_draws]: action king but romantic puppy at home 😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi]: he doesn’t need romance roles bc he’s living one 🥹💜

[@ghostbyte]: the irony… best romance actor in real life only 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: imagine him fighting villains by day then massaging sieun’s legs by night 🥺

[@minty_mochi]: actually after seeing him like this i can’t watch him romancing with someone else

[@ghostbyte]: very true @minty_mochi

Among the chat chaos, one question stood out:

[@pixelheart]: but how did Suho even CONVINCE Sieun to make an account??? he doesn’t seem like the type 😭

The screen filled up instantly with variations of the same thing:

[@minty_mochi]: YEAH HOW TELL US 👀

[@ghostbyte]: sieun feels too private for social media 💀

[@retrocat]: pls spill the tea juntae 🫡

Juntae burst out laughing, his pen and diary already abandoned on the table. “Ohhh that story…” he grinned, shaking his head like he was replaying it in his mind. “Honestly, Suho didn’t have to do much. At first, of course, Sieun rejected the idea flat-out. Deadpan, calm voice, just said, ‘No.’ Like full stop. No explanation, no chance of negotiation.”

“But Suho being Suho…” Juntae gestured with his hands, grinning wider, “he just kept talking. Going on and on about how Sieun’s legal advice could really help people. That not everyone could reach out to professional lawyers, but through social media, Sieun could reach thousands. And Suho knew exactly which button to press—”

Juntae leaned forward a little, voice softening with respect. “Because Sieun’s motivation for becoming a lawyer in the first place was simple. He wanted to help people. That’s always been his core. So the second Suho framed it that way — that it wasn’t about likes or attention, it was about helping — Sieun just… caved. Instantly.”

Then Juntae lowered his voice dramatically, like he was telling a secret only the live viewers could hear. “But insider note? Between you and me…” He leaned closer, cupping a hand around his mouth. “…Sieun can hardly ever say no to Suho anyway. If Suho wants something bad enough, Sieun might sigh, roll his eyes, maybe act annoyed — but he’ll give in. Every. Single. Time.”

Juntae chuckled again, shaking his head. “So yeah. Convincing him wasn’t as hard as it looked.”

Fans losing it in the comments:

[@ash_draws]: NO BC THAT’S SO CUTE 😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi]: sieun pretending to be cold but actually whipped 🥺

[@starrynight_dev]: suho’s puppy eyes >>>> all arguments 💀

[@ghostbyte]: insider note is the JUICIEST part 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: imagine being immune to everyone but ONE person 😭💜

[@berrybyte]: sieun literally weak for suho only 😭😭😭

The comments turned cheeky again:

[@minty_mochi]: wait wait so who runs their accounts??? 👀

[@berrybyte]: is it agency?? suho?? sieun himself??

[@ghostbyte]: pls don’t tell me sieun is out here editing reels 💀

The chat spammed question marks and laughing emojis until Juntae giggled into his mic, shaking his head.

“It’s Suho,” he admitted, lips curving in amusement. “He actually handles his and Sieun’s accounts. Technically, his PR agency offered to manage his socials for him, you know? They said they’d plan the posts, keep everything neat, staged, polished… but Suho refused. He said he wanted that freedom. He wanted to be the one who decided when to post, when to go live, when to talk with you guys. He wanted it to feel real. Not staged, not artificial. Just… him.”

Juntae’s smile softened. “So yeah — he’s the one behind both accounts. He even schedules Sieun’s lives around him. Sieun is always too busy with cases, papers, court, studying, everything. But Suho makes sure that once a week, no matter how packed their schedules get, Sieun takes a little time out for a live. Just so he can chat with you all and give legal advice.”

“And here’s the thing,” Juntae added, chuckling fondly, “Suho calls it Sieun’s live. But really? It’s Suho making sure Sieun connects with people, Suho setting up the camera, Suho hitting the button, Suho sitting just off-frame smiling like a fool the whole time.”

He shook his head lightly. “He’s… ridiculous. Obsessed, really. But in the sweetest way. Because all of this? It’s not for the spotlight. It’s not for him. It’s so Sieun’s voice reaches more people. Because Suho knows how much helping others means to him.”

The camera happened to catch Suho again right then — crouched by Sieun’s side, hands still massaging his leg absently, looking up at him with those wide, lovesick eyes. His grin was small but steady, boyish, almost shy. Like he was proud of himself for being useful in any way.

And Sieun, as always, pretended not to notice — his eyes glued to the book. But his hand rested on Suho’s shoulder, steady and unmoving, like an anchor he didn’t even realize he’d given.

[@ash_draws]: HE HANDLES BOTH ACCOUNTS 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: action star by day, social media manager by night 💀

[@starlitdreams]: “he wanted it to be real” i’m crying 😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi]: this is love this is devotion this is marriage 🥹

[@ghostbyte]: puppy bf suho scheduling sieun’s lives STOP 🥺💜

[@peachy_jams]: imagine him sitting there smiling while sieun talks 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: man’s literally a husband, a pr team, AND a fanboy at once 😭

The flood of hearts and emojis paused for a moment as a thoughtful comment slid through the chat:

[@violet_rose]: why do Sieun’s eyes look different in lives vs reels?? like… lives = calm & sharp, but in reels he looks so warm and fond 🥺 his eyes are so pretty btw

The chat instantly latched onto it.

[@minty_mochi]: OMG TRUE I NOTICED THAT TOO 😭

[@ghostbyte]: his eyes literally glow in reels 👀

[@retrocat]: pls explain this mystery 😭

Juntae gasped dramatically, leaning closer to the camera with wide eyes. “Woahhh. Okay, you guys are literally amazing. I’m impressed you actually caught that difference.” He shook his head, laughing softly. “Like seriously — I didn’t think anyone would notice even though the difference is there, but of course you did.”

He paused, lips twitching as if deciding how much to reveal.

“The reason…” he said slowly, voice dipping into a conspiratorial tone, “…is actually really simple. The live sessions? Those are truly live. It’s just Sieun, by himself, fully focused. And Suho isn’t allowed anywhere near while he’s doing it — because, well, you know…” Juntae giggled, covering his mouth with his hand, “he might distract Sieun just a little too much.”

He leaned closer like whispering. “But the reels? The recorded videos? Those are filmed by Suho. Every single one. So… that’s why his eyes look different. That’s why you see that warmth, that fondness, slipping through. Because he’s not just talking to the camera — he’s looking at Suho.”

The thought hung in the air, filling the chat with squeals, sobs, and heart emojis. And sure enough, as Juntae said it, the camera caught Suho glancing up at Sieun again — eyes full of awe, a smile tugging helplessly at his lips. Sieun’s face didn’t change much, still buried in his book, but there was the tiniest soft twitch at the corners of his mouth.

The difference was obvious now that someone had pointed it out.

[@starlitdreams]: SO ALL THE FOND EYES ARE FOR SUHO??? 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: STOP STOP STOP THAT’S SO CUTE I’M CRYING 😭💜

[@minty_mochi]: recorded = suho behind camera. i’m ruined 🥹

[@ghostbyte]: imagine being loved so much it shows in your eyes 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: suho not allowed near lives bc he’s a DISTRACTION 💀💀

[@peachy_jams]: this is the most wholesome secret ever 😭✨

Juntae adjusted his glasses, pen twirling between his fingers, and leaned closer to the screen again. “And… actually, it’s the same for all his posts too. All the photos on Sieun’s account? Those solo pictures of him sitting by the window, reading, even those random candids with his coffee cup? Yeah. Almost all of them were clicked by Suho.”

The chat froze for a beat before erupting.

[@minty_mochi]: WAITTTT SO SUHO IS THE PHOTOGRAPHER TOO 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: bf + cameraman + editor + PR agent 💀💜

[@ash_draws]: this man runs a one-man agency pls 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: no wonder the pics look like love letters omg 🥹✨

Juntae grinned knowingly. “Yup. He doesn’t just take the pictures — he posts them too. Basically, Suho handles Sieun’s entire account. So, if you’ve ever sent a gushy love letter in his DMs…” He let the pause hang dramatically, lowering his voice like he was spilling state secrets. “…there’s a very good chance it wasn’t Sieun who saw it. It was Suho. And if he didn’t like it?” Juntae chuckled, covering his mouth. “Well… let’s just say you probably got blocked.”

The chat exploded.

[@ghostbyte]: LMFAOOOO possessive king strikes again 😂😂😂

[@starlitdreams]: imagine thinking u flirted with sieun but it was SUHO blocking you 😭😭😭

[@mango_mochi]: bf, bodyguard, AND bouncer energy 💀💜

[@ash_draws]: “blocked by suho for flirting with his man” is actually an honor tbh 😭

[@retrobit_01]: nation’s husband but also nation’s pettiest boyfriend 💀😂

[@peachy_jams]: oh my goddd this is HILARIOUS i can’t breathe 😭😭😭

[@mango_mochi]: @retrobit_01 not nations he is his baby's prettiest boyfriend lol 💀😂

[@retrobit_01]: @mango_mochi lmao 😆

Juntae laughed so hard he had to put his pen down. “Seriously — you should see him. He reads every comment like a hawk. One time, someone left this long cheesy line about Sieun’s ‘pretty hands’ and Suho instantly deleted it and grumbled the whole night. He kept saying, ‘They’re MY pretty hands, not for anyone else to talk about.’”

The image alone sent the chat into chaos.

[@minty_mochi]: IMAGINE SULKY SUHO GUARDING SIEUN’S HANDS 😭😭😭

[@violet_rose]: HE’S SO POSSESSIVE I’M— 😭💜

[@pixelwarrior99]: no wonder sieun’s account feels so private even when it's public, it’s just suho policing 😭😂

[@nooblet_99]: suho is literally bf, manager, AND jealous fangirl rolled into one 💀

Juntae giggled, shaking his head. “You guys don’t even know the half of it. When Sieun finally made his account… the comments people left there were wild. Not just law questions, no — I’m talking full-on romance comments. Stuff like ‘marry me, attorney-nim,’ ‘your eyes are prettier than the night sky,’ ‘angel face, are you even real?’”

He flipped his pen dramatically over the diary, smirking. “And every single time Suho read those? He would turn into the clingiest man alive. He’d hover around Sieun while he was scrolling, arms wrapped around him like a koala, muttering, ‘No. Block them. Don’t read that. Those eyes are mine.’”

The chat went insane, spamming laughing emojis and crying faces.

[@violet_rose]: LMFAO KOALA SUHO 😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi]: pls he’s so jealous i can’t 😭💜

[@ghostbyte]: nah but sieun really has the prettiest eyes ever 🥹

[@ash_draws]: angel face lawyer WHO WOULDN’T fall for him 😭😭😭

[@starlitdreams]: honestly can’t even blame suho. i’d lose my mind too 😭✨

[@retrocat]: man fell for the national treasure, let him cling 😭💜

[@peachy_jams]: suho’s jealousy is valid tbh… i’d sell my soul for one look from sieun 😭😭😭

Juntae leaned closer to the camera, voice lowering like he was sharing a juicy secret. “And the funniest part? Half the time Suho would reply to those comments himself before Sieun even saw them. He’d literally log in, scroll, and type back stuff like, ‘Blocked. Try again never.’”

The chat erupted, some spamming crying emojis, others typing “POSSESSIVE BF ERA.”

Juntae finally sighed, still chuckling, shaking his head. “So yeah. If your comment ever vanished mysteriously? Don’t blame Sieun. That was all Suho. He’s basically the guardian at the gate.”

The comments started spiraling again, all about Sieun’s eyes:

[@ghostbyte]: nooo but hear me out if suho is nation's husband then sieun is nation's angel omg 😭❤️

[@violet_rose]: nooo but his eyes are the prettiest brown ever 🥹

[@minty_mochi]: doe eyes i would DIE for 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: i could get lost in those eyes for eternity 😭✨

[@ash_draws]: not joking i’d sell my soul for one look 💜

[@starlitdreams]: soft, warm, pretty… they don’t make eyes like that anymore 😭

[@violet_rose]: @ghostbyte yeah so true 😭❤️

[@ash_draws]: @ghostbyte I agree 💯

[@minty_mochi]: @ghostbyte omg yes 😭❤️

Juntae giggled, nodding along. “Yeah, true… he IS pretty. And his eyes … they are beautiful. My best friend has the prettiest eyes—”

Before he could finish, the phone was snatched out of his hand. The frame wobbled violently, and suddenly Suho’s face filled the screen, grinning like a maniac.

“Who’s talking about my baby’s eyes?” he demanded, squinting at the chat with dramatic suspicion. Then his grin grew wider as he read the comments. “Ah, I see. I know, right?”

Without another word, he bolted back toward Sieun, phone in hand, practically bouncing with excitement.

He plopped down beside Sieun, nearly knocking his book out of his lap. One arm curled instantly around him, his grin boyish, proud, possessive.

“My baby’s eyes are to die for,” Suho announced, turning the phone to catch Sieun’s face. “Just look at them! Look how perfect they are!”

He leaned in, holding the phone so close it was almost uncomfortable, the camera zooming in on Sieun’s blinking lashes and warm brown eyes.

Sieun blinked rapidly at the sudden closeness, frowning faintly as he raised a hand to push the phone back. “Stop it,” he muttered, voice flat but not harsh.

Suho only laughed, tail practically wagging, cuddling closer like a clingy puppy who refused to move. His grin was unstoppable, his eyes sparkling with pure adoration.

“See? Even when he’s annoyed, his eyes are the prettiest in the world,” Suho declared proudly, nuzzling against Sieun’s shoulder like it was his favorite pillow.

[@peachy_jams]: HE SAID “MY BABY’S EYES” I’M DONE 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: suho barging in like an excited puppy omg 💀

[@minty_mochi]: he’s so obsessed i can’t breathe 😭💜

[@ghostbyte]: pls the close up we didn’t survive 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: sieun blinking like HELP but still letting him 🥺

[@starlitdreams]: the devotion in his voice STOP STOP STOP 😭😭😭

Still clinging to him, Suho nuzzled into the curve of Sieun’s neck, his grin stretching wide. “Mmm, you smell good,” he muttered, voice muffled against skin.

Sieun sighed, tilting his head just enough to glare down at him. “Stop it.”

But Suho only whined in response, muffled and dramatic, like a spoiled puppy denied a treat. “Nooo, I don’t wanna…” His arms tightened around Sieun’s waist, his invisible tail wagging furiously.

[@minty_mochi]: HE DOESN’T EVEN CARE 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: pathetic in love but so CUTE 💜

[@ghostbyte]: i’ve never seen a man so down bad omg 💀

[@peachy_jams]: nuzzling like a puppy stopppp 😭😭😭

[@starlitdreams]: suho clingy bf energy is unmatched 🥹

From across the room, Gotak’s deadpan voice cut through. “Pathetic,” he muttered. “Absolutely pathetic.”

Baku snorted instantly, grinning as he leaned forward. “Forget pathetic — I think Sieun’s the one suffering here. Free the poor guy.”

Sieun rolled his eyes, not even bothering to answer, flipping a page in his book instead. Juntae, meanwhile, was giggling so hard he abandoned his diary completely and plopped down on the couch now, grinning like he lived for this chaos.

Still pouting, Suho lifted the phone to read through the comments, his expression flickering between wounded and smug. His ears turned pink as the chat filled with praise for Sieun:

[@ash_draws]: sieun’s patience >>> my life 😭

[@pixelheart]: he’s too pretty pls i can’t 🥹

[@violet_rose]: how does suho even survive those eyes 😭😭😭

Suho groaned dramatically. “You guys are supposed to be my fans, not his…” But then he caught a new question and lit up.

“Ah! Someone asked about my next film,” Suho perked up, puffing his chest a little. “I really worked hard on it — the action scenes were intense. I'm playing a special task force agent, saving a top-level diplomat. And honestly… I imagined it was my baby I was saving the whole time. That made every move sharper, every punch stronger. So yeah, it turned out amazing. You’ll see.”

The room went silent for one beat. Then chaos.

Juntae doubled over laughing, his glasses slipping. Gotak’s face twisted like he wanted to vanish into the floor. Baku slapped the couch, grinning ear to ear.

Even Sieun’s eyebrows twitched — just the faintest movement, but enough to give him away.

“Saving your baby?” Baku repeated gleefully, eyes shining. “Ohhh, that’s going in the group chat. Forever.”

Suho’s entire face turned crimson, ears glowing as he tried to hide behind the phone. “Wha— I didn’t mean— I was just—!”

The chat went nuclear.

[@ghostbyte]: SAVING HIS BABY 😭😭😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi]: sir this is NOT a romance film 💀💀

[@retrocat]: ACTION STAR BUT ROMEO AT HEART 😭

[@ash_draws]: his baby = sieun i can’t breathe 😭💜

[@peachy_jams]: he’s BLUSHINGGGGG 😭😭😭

[@starlitdreams]: sieun’s eyebrow twitch ended me 😂

Suho tried to pout his way out of it, but the damage was done. The room was full of laughter, the chat a blur of crying emojis and hearts, and Sieun… still calm, still flipping his page, but the corners of his lips curved almost imperceptibly upward.

After enduring Suho’s clinginess, the eyebrow jokes, and the teasing, Sieun finally closed his book with a soft thud. He stood slowly, adjusting his glasses, muttering flatly, “I need to study.”

But before he could take a single step, Suho’s hand shot out, catching his wrist. His eyes went wide, lips already pouting. “Baby, no… stay. Don’t leave me,” he whined, tugging gently like a child who didn’t want to be left behind.

Gotak leaned back with a smug grin. “Sit down, Sieunah. We’re not done watching your boyfriend self-destruct yet.”

Baku barked out a laugh. “Yeah, stay. We still need to see him blush more. It’s comedy gold.”

Juntae was giggling so hard he was nearly shaking the phone. “Nooo, Sieunah, don’t go! Look at him — he’ll cry if you leave.”

Suho puffed his cheeks out, glaring at the three of them like a cornered puppy. “Shut up! I won’t cry!” he protested — voice cracking just enough to make everyone laugh harder.

Gotak: “Pretty sure he’ll throw a tantrum if you go. And we’ll be the ones cleaning it up.”

Baku: “Correction — I’ll record it for blackmail.”

Juntae: “No, I’ll live stream it. Instant content.”

Suho groaned dramatically, dropping his forehead against Sieun’s arm. “See, baby? They’re evil. Don’t leave me with them.”

[@minty_mochi]: HE SAID “DON’T LEAVE ME” 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: puppy bf clinging for dear life 💜

[@ghostbyte]: “i won’t cry” = he’s already about to 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: the GANG IS EVIL but i love it 😂

[@pixelheart]: imagine trying to study while ur bf nuzzles into ur arm 🥹

[@peachy_jams]: sieun pls stay, suho will combust 💀

Sieun sighed, his expression unreadable as ever. But instead of pulling away, he sat back down — carefully, like indulging a child. Suho instantly brightened, clutching his hand tighter and leaning in with a grin so wide it nearly split his face.

The gang whooped and laughed, making it worse, while the chat filled with hearts and crying emojis. And Suho? He just kept looking at Sieun like he’d won the lottery.

In the flood of emojis and laughter, a comment caught Juntae’s eye again.

[@violet_rose]: juntae pls finish your story!!
[@ash_draws]: and tell us WHY suho never does romance films 🥹
[@retrocat]: yeah why always action?? no rom-coms??

The chat piled on instantly, demanding answers, flooding the screen with question marks and heart emojis.

Before Juntae could even open his mouth, Suho gasped loud enough for everyone to hear. He clutched his chest like someone had just accused him of a crime. “HOW could you ask me that?!” he cried, his voice full of mock betrayal.

The gang burst into laughter immediately.

Suho didn’t let them interrupt. He spun dramatically, grabbing Sieun’s cheeks in his hands, their faces now pressed together, cheeks squished, his eyes wide and pleading with the camera.

“HOW can I romance anyone else?!” Suho demanded, half-whining, half-yelling. He tilted his head, their cheeks still touching, his grin unshakable. “LOOK at this face! Look how pretty it is! How am I supposed to stand on a set and pretend to be in love with someone else when I already have the most perfect person right here?!”

He gave Sieun a little shake for emphasis, his voice breaking like he was truly suffering. “HOW?!”

Sieun blinked slowly, unimpressed, his lips twitching faintly as though he were holding back either a sigh or a laugh. His glasses slid down his nose slightly, but he didn’t move to fix them — just stared blankly while Suho melted down beside him.

Gotak: “Oh my god, someone get him an award.”
Baku: “Drama King Suho: rejected every rom-com to save his own love life.”
Juntae: giggling so hard he nearly dropped the phone, “Guys, he’s serious, he means it.”

[@minty_mochi]: “HOW can i romance someone else” HELP 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: his cheeks are LITERALLY PRESSED TO SIEUN’S 😭💀

[@starlitdreams]: this is the best rom-com and it’s free 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: top actor but refuses romance bc his bf >>>> all 😭

[@pixelheart]: drama king, puppy lover, obsessed man, my god 😭

[@retrocat]: he really said romance is for us only 🥹💜

The comments wouldn’t let go of it.

[@minty_mochi]: but WHY not romance movies 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: pls explain properly suho 🥹

[@retrocat]: we need a detailed answer 👀

Suho puffed his chest out proudly, eyes gleaming. “Okay. Fine. Let me tell you. This needs proper attention and your attention for deep analysis. Listen carefully—”

From beside him, Sieun didn’t even glance up from his book. His tone flat, calm, bored. “This is ridiculous.”

Suho turned, pouting instantly. “Baby, keep quiet. I’m explaining!”

Baku leaned forward, smirking. “Oh this is gonna be good. Please continue, professor.”

Gotak snorted. “Romance 101 by Ahn Suho. This will end badly.”

Juntae was already giggling, covering his mouth with his hand as he struggled to keep the phone steady.

“Stop laughing!” Suho scolded, glaring at them like a sulky child. “This is serious! Here hold your phone.”

Juntae took it and adjusted it well so everyone would be in the frame.

Suho straightened, raising a finger like a lecturer. “Okay. So what is romance? Romance… is romancing. Doing romance. One romancing with others’ romance. And the answer to romance… is the romance of others romance.”

He nodded firmly, looking so proud of himself.

The room went silent for three beats. Everyone stared. Juntae’s glasses slid down his nose as he blinked in confusion. Baku tilted his head, face blank. Gotak’s brows furrowed like he was trying to solve a riddle.

Finally, Sieun looked up, deadpan, his voice flat as stone. “…What are you even saying.”

Suho whipped his head toward him, offended. “Baby, quiet!”

That was it. Juntae burst out laughing, nearly falling off his chair. Baku clutched his stomach, wheezing. Gotak facepalmed so hard it echoed.

And the chat? Absolute meltdown.

[@ash_draws]: ROMANCE IS ROMANCING I’M SCREAMING 💀💀💀

[@ghostbyte]: suho just invented a new academic field 😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi]: baby quiet HELP THIS IS TOO FUNNY 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: he’s the dumbest genius i’ve ever seen 😭💜

[@starlitdreams]: romance of others romance??? sir please 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: someone tattoo this speech on my forehead 💀

Meanwhile, Suho leaned dramatically against Sieun’s shoulder, still pouting. “You guys don’t understand my genius. Only my baby does.”

Sieun blinked once, expression still deadpan. “…No. I don’t.”

The room erupted again.

Suho clapped his hands once, leaning toward the camera with exaggerated seriousness. “So where were we? Yeshhh… right. If I do romance… romance with others’ romance…”

Before he could keep circling, Sieun finally sighed, his voice sharp but calm. “Yah. Come to the point.”

Suho gasped, spinning toward him with wide eyes, one hand pressed dramatically to his chest. “Baby, you need to be quiet!”

The gang instantly broke into laughter — Baku wheezing, Gotak shaking his head, Juntae nearly dropping the phone.

“So yeahhh…” Suho continued proudly, nodding like a professor about to unveil groundbreaking research. “See, if I do romance with another’s romance… then there will be romance.”

The room went dead silent.

Sieun let out the longest, most tired sigh in existence. “…Suhooooo—”

But Suho wasn’t done. He leaned closer, eyes shining, voice softening with sudden earnestness.

“And if they do romance and I have do give my romance as an answer to their romance—

“Suho come to the point—”, Baku was losing it.

“ —then maybe I need to hold their hand.”

Everyone froze. The comments stopped. Even the gang stopped mid-laugh, mouths hanging open. Juntae’s glasses slid down his nose. Baku blinked once, completely speechless. Gotak muttered, “What the hell does that even mean…”

Sieun just stared at him, lips parted, utterly bewildered, “This makes no sense.”

Suho’s mouth dropped open in pure shock, eyes wide as if Sieun had just insulted the universe itself. He clutched Sieun’s hand tighter, pulling it up into the camera frame like he was presenting sacred treasure.

“How could you not understand?!” Suho cried, his voice breaking with dramatic disbelief. “Look at these hands!”

He laced his fingers with Sieun’s, holding them up proudly. “Just look at them. Look how perfect they are. How could I ever hold someone else’s hands when I have these to hold?”

For a split second, the room froze.

Baku’s jaw dropped. Gotak blinked, stunned. Juntae’s mouth formed a small “o,” his glasses sliding down his nose as he stared. Even Sieun, normally unshakable, faltered — his eyes flicking to Suho’s, lips parting just slightly.

The weight of Suho’s words settled heavy in the air, stripping away the earlier jokes and noise.

Suho wasn’t smiling like a clown anymore. His voice softened, his thumb stroking over Sieun’s knuckles gently. His gaze was steady, honest, filled with awe.

“These are the only hands I want to hold. On screen, off screen, in this life, in the next….”

Still riding on the high of his “hands” speech, Suho’s eyes widened like he’d just remembered something vital. He gripped Sieun’s cheeks gently, turning his face toward the camera with all the care in the world, showing off the natural pout of his lips.

“And not to forget…” Suho’s voice dropped into a reverent whisper, his grin helpless. “Kiss. I need to kiss. How can I kiss someone else… when I already have these soft, fluffy lips? These pouty lips—” he leaned closer, eyes sparkling with almost childlike awe, “you guys won’t understand… how soft they are. They’re lips to die for.”

Sieun’s eyes went wide, his calm mask cracking for once. “…You can’t be serious.”

But Suho only nodded furiously, his tone desperate, almost pleading. “Baby, I’m serious. Dead serious. I can’t do it.”

Sieun blinked at him, still baffled. “It’s acting, Suhoya. Acting.”

Suho shook his head stubbornly, tightening his hold on his cheeks like he was terrified Sieun might slip away. “No. Not to me. I can’t do it, baby. I can’t kiss anyone else. These lips—” he brushed his thumb gently over Sieun’s lower lip, gaze soft and trembling with devotion, “—they’re mine to protect. Mine to keep.”

Overwhelmed by his own words, Suho suddenly wrapped both arms around Sieun, burying his face into the curve of his neck. His voice muffled but raw. “I can’t. I won’t. Only you. Always you.”

His shoulders shook faintly — not from tears, but from the sheer intensity of feeling. That clingy, lovesick need that had no outlet except to hold tighter, to worship harder.

Sieun sat frozen, eyes darting briefly to the camera, lips parted in stunned disbelief. His hand twitched like he might push Suho away — but he didn’t. Instead, he let him hide there, his ears faintly red, his expression torn between exasperation and something softer.

The gang sat in stunned silence, mouths half-open, unsure if they should laugh or respect the sacred insanity unfolding before them.

[@minty_mochi]: “lips to die for” I’M SCREAMING 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: HE’S SO SERIOUS ABOUT THIS OMG 💜

[@ash_draws]: he can’t separate acting from love help 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: baby I’m serious 😭😭😭 the devotion is insane

[@starlitdreams]: he’s obsessed in the PUREST way 🥹

[@peachy_jams]: worshipped. adored. protected. i’m crying 😭😭😭

Still clinging to Sieun, Suho suddenly turned his gaze to the camera. His eyes were wide, almost feverish with intensity, his chest rising and falling like the words were burning in him.

“You don’t understand,” he said, voice low and trembling. “How heavenly it feels… to touch these lips. To bite on them. This—” his thumb brushed across Sieun’s lower lip again, gently squeezing it so the camera caught its pout, “—this bottom lip right here. Look at it. Look how fluffy it is.”

He swallowed hard, his grin turning desperate. “I go insane over it. It fits perfectly in my teeth, the way it gives under the bite… the way it feels so good to suck on it. You won’t understand. You can’t.”

His voice cracked, breaking into a near-whine. “I crave it. I’m already craving it. Every second I’m with him, I’m losing control. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

Suho leaned closer, his nose brushing Sieun’s cheek, his mouth hovering dangerously near. His hand cupped Sieun’s jaw with trembling reverence, like he was seconds away from proving every word he’d just said.

The chat had gone insane — screaming emojis, chaos flooding, some begging for mercy.

[@violet_rose]: HELLOOO??? IS THIS ALLOWED ON LIVE 😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi]: “fluffy bottom lip” I’M DECEASED 💀💀💀

[@mango_blossom]: hope all the viewers are 18+ here 💀

[@ghostbyte]: the desperation in his voice… IM MELTING 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: HELP I CAN’T BREATHE HE’S OBSESSED 😭💜

[@starlitdreams]: suho pls we are CHILDREN HERE 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: this is not romance anymore this is possession 😭✨

[@pixelheart]: “fits perfectly in my teeth” SIR??? 😳🔥

[@mango_blossom]: sieun’s lips should be declared a national treasure 💀

[@nooblet_99]: y’all it’s not an actor it’s a MAN IN LOVE 😭😭😭

[@starrynight_dev]: the way he’s trembling… i’m actually crying 😭😭😭

[@cyberbun]: HELP THIS IS TOO INTIMATE FOR FREE 😭🔥

[@berrybyte]: no bc the craving in his voice broke me 😭😭😭

[@tinyteacup]: HE’S GONE. MAN’S GONE. FOREVER OBSESSED 😭💜

[@sketchaddict]: “losing control” SAME BRO SAME 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: shit sorry suho you are making me crave those lips 💀

But just as Suho tilted in, Sieun’s palm pressed firmly against his chest. His eyes were wide, his voice low but sharp. “Stop it.”

The single command cut through Suho’s desperate energy. He froze, lips parted, still close enough that the warmth of his breath ghosted against Sieun’s skin. His chest heaved like he’d been running, pupils blown wide, trembling with everything he couldn’t put into words.

Juntae, still scrolling, suddenly burst into laughter, nearly choking on air. “Oh my god—no, no, I have to read this one out loud.” He leaned closer, glasses slipping a little as he squinted at the screen. “‘@pixelheart says… shit sorry suho you are making me crave those lips 💀.’”

The room froze for a beat before Suho gasped so loud it made the phone shake. “WHAT THE FUCK—?! NO. NO YOU DIDN’T JUST—YAAAHHH!” He slapped his own chest dramatically, eyes wide like he’d been personally attacked. “DON’T. YOU. DARE.”

The comments exploded instantly.

[@violet_rose]: LMAOOO I’M SORRY I AGREE 😭😭😭
[@ash_draws]: I’D SELL MY SOUL FOR ONE KISS TOO 💀
[@ghostbyte]: suho protect those lips before we STEAL 😭😭😭
[@minty_mochi]: nah bc those lips look like HEAVEN 🥹
[@retrocat]: baby lawyer got competition 😭💜

Suho’s face went crimson as more similar comments rolled in. He scrambled closer to the camera, covering it with his palm like he could physically shield Sieun. “NO. STOP. THESE ARE MY LIPS. ONLY MINE. DO YOU HEAR ME?!”
He whined like a kicked puppy, clutching Sieun’s jaw with both hands as if to prove ownership. “Baby, tell them! Tell them they can’t have you! They’re trying to steal you from me right here!”
Sieun just sighed, eyes narrowing, palm still firm against Suho’s chest. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Which only made Suho whine louder. “I’M FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE OUT HERE!”
Juntae had collapsed into the couch, laughing so hard the phone wobbled in his grip. “Oh my god, Suho, you’re actually insane. They’re literally fans—”
“NO,” Suho cut him off, pointing at the camera like a madman. “Not fans. THIEVES. LIP THIEVES!”
The comments went absolutely feral:
[@starrynight_dev]: LIP THIEVES I’M SCREAMING 💀💀💀
[@tinyteacup]: nation’s husband but nation’s clown rn 😭😭😭
[@mango_blossom]: suho fighting invisible enemies 😭💜
[@cyberbun]: baby pls we weren’t serious 😭😭😭
[@pixelheart]: HELP HE CALLED ME A THIEF 😭😭😭

The air was electric — a mix of love, desperation, and the raw edge of obsession. Suho looked ruined, helpless, yet still clinging as if one push wasn’t enough to break the magnetic pull between them. Sieun’s face was unreadable, his lips still caught between Suho’s fingers, his eyes a storm of disbelief and something softer, buried deep.

The gang sat frozen, unsure whether to laugh or look away. Juntae’s glasses slid down his nose as he blinked rapidly. Baku’s mouth hung open. Gotak muttered, “This is insane…” under his breath.

[@minty_mochi]: HE’S LITERALLY OBSESSED 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: “fits perfectly in my teeth” SIR PLEASE 😭💀

[@ghostbyte]: he’s trembling he’s GONEEEE 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: craving it every second??? this is devotion + lust combined 🥺

[@starlitdreams]: i’ve never seen love THIS intense 😭😭😭

[@peachy_jams]: sieun’s push = saving us from fainting 💜

The room was still buzzing from Suho’s wild speech when Gotak, slouched on the couch, suddenly muttered, “I’m ashamed.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

Gotak ran a hand down his face, groaning. “I’m ashamed that I never asked Suho why he never acts in romance movies. Not once. I could’ve saved us from… this.”

Baku tilted his head, eyes wide, pointing at Sieun. “Wait. Why are YOU serious right now? You never asked him?!”

Sieun looked up, brow twitching. “Because I didn’t know!!??” His voice lifted slightly, exasperation slipping through.

Juntae gasped dramatically, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Wooaahh. I’m honestly awe-struck. This… this is history. We’re literally witnessing the mystery solved live.” He was grinning so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

And then the comments went absolutely feral.

[@minty_mochi]: suho’s obsession is actually SCARY cute 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: this is devotion or insanity there’s no in-between 💀

[@ash_draws]: sieun RUN while you still can 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: nahhhh this is full psycho boyfriend mode 😳

[@violet_rose]: but also??? purest puppy love i’ve ever seen 🥹

[@pixelheart]: top actor. mma pro. hopeless romantic. obsessed bf. insane combo 😭😭😭

[@starlitdreams]: he doesn’t need romance films bc HE’S LIVING THE MOST INTENSE ONE 😭💜

Meanwhile, Suho, still clutching Sieun’s hand, blinked at the screen with wide, innocent eyes, completely unbothered by the chaos. His lips curved into a proud pouty smile, as if every single “crazy/psycho” comment was actually a compliment.

He nuzzled against Sieun’s shoulder again, muttering just loud enough for the mic to catch, “Let them say what they want… I don’t care. I’ll never let you go. Ever.”

Sieun froze for a moment, his cheeks tinged faint pink, torn between sighing and shoving him off. Baku dramatically gagged into his hand. Gotak looked like he wanted to vanish. Juntae was still giggling behind the phone.

But Suho? He clung tighter, his face hidden in Sieun’s neck, his entire body radiating the warm, terrifying, beautifully obsessive love of a man who only had eyes for one person.

The comments started spamming faster than the eye could follow:

[@minty_mochi]: SIEUN RUN THIS MAN IS CRAZY 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: suho’s turning psycho lmao 💀

[@ghostbyte]: man’s obsessed in a SCARY way 😭😭

[@pixelheart]: sieun blink twice if u need help 😭

[@ash_draws]: protect sieun he’s too pretty for prison love 😭💜

Juntae burst into giggles, unable to stop himself. “Suhooo—the viewers are saying Sieun needs to run away. That you’re a big psycho.”

Suho’s head snapped up from Sieun’s shoulder, eyes wide, mouth open in disbelief. “What?? Really?!” His pout deepened, the betrayal in his tone making him sound like a kicked puppy.

Sieun blinked slowly, lips twitching as if he was fighting the urge to laugh. He turned his gaze deliberately to the camera, voice cool and flat. “…I’ll think about it.”

Then he let out his rare, faint downturned smile — subtle, but enough to send the room and chat into meltdown.

“BABYYYYY!!” Suho practically howled, immediately burying himself against Sieun again, arms wrapping around him in a suffocating hug. “Don’t say that, don’t even joke— I’ll die. Don’t leave meee!”

He nuzzled desperately into Sieun’s neck, whining like an actual child, his entire body radiating clingy panic.

The viewers lost their collective minds.

[@starlitdreams]: HE SMILED HE SMILED HE SMILED 😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi]: DOWNWARD LIPS SMILE I’M RUINED 🥹

[@violet_rose]: his lips look so soft omg 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: JUICY LIPS ALERT 🚨💜

[@ash_draws]: imagine being suho rn with those lips 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: who wouldn’t go psycho over lips like that 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: i get it suho. i’d lose my mind too. 🥹

Sieun simply shook his head at the chaos, but his small smile stayed, his lips plush and pouty under the camera light. Suho tightened his grip, looking at him like he was holding the most fragile, sacred treasure in the world.

Jealousy, obsession, devotion, desperation — all tangled in his wide eyes. His voice cracked as he muttered against Sieun’s skin, “Don’t run. Don’t leave me. You’re mine.”

And the chat? They screamed harder than ever — caught between laughing at his psycho clinginess and crying over how raw, real, and painfully romantic it was.

Juntae adjusted his glasses, still giggling, and began reading aloud what the fans were spamming:

[@minty_mochi]: HIS LIPS LOOK SO KISSABLE 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: fat juicy lips i’d sell my soul for 😭💜

[@violet_rose]: sieun pls let me touch them just once 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: pouty angel lips STOP STOP STOP 🥹

As the words left his mouth, Sieun’s ears turned scarlet. He looked down, blinking fast, his pale cheeks flushing pink all the way to the tips of his ears.

Suho’s eyes went wide, wild, and he practically jumped in place. “YAAHHH—DON’T TALK LIKE THAT!” he screamed, his voice breaking in dramatic outrage.

In a frenzy, he slammed his palm gently but firmly over Sieun’s mouth, covering those infamous lips from the camera. His whole body curled protectively around him, eyes darting between the phone and his boyfriend like he was shielding treasure from thieves.

“These fat lips are MINE. Do you hear me?! MINE!”

The gang exploded with laughter, and the phone shook violently in Juntae’s hand as he nearly fell over giggling.

Gotak leaned in, smirking straight at the phone. “Honestly? I don’t blame you guys. Even when I first met him, my eyes went straight to his lips. They looked so soft—”

“YA!” Suho screeched, hurling a cushion across the room at him.

But Baku only cackled, adding fuel to the fire. “They are big though. Big and pouty. Hard not to notice.”

“YAAHHHH YOU WANNA DIE?!” Suho bellowed, eyes wide like a cornered cat, his hand still plastered protectively over Sieun’s mouth. He launched another cushion at both of them, his face redder than Sieun’s. “DON’T SAY THAT! DON’T EVEN THINK THAT! THEY’RE MINE!”

Sieun blinked up at him, still blushing under the hand covering his lips, his eyes torn between exasperation and embarrassment.

[@ash_draws]: “THESE FAT LIPS ARE MINE” I’M SCREAMING 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: he’s guarding them like national treasure 💀💀💀

[@minty_mochi]: suho about to throw hands over lips 😭😭😭

[@violet_rose]: i’m crying sieun blushinggggg 🥹✨

[@starlitdreams]: possessive psycho bf energy is unmatched 💜

[@retrocat]: he really said DIE over pouty lips 😭😭😭

The gang was already wheezing when suddenly Juntae, face turning pink, raised his hand shyly like a kid in school. “I’m… guilty too.”

Everyone froze. Suho whipped his head around so fast his hair nearly smacked Sieun. “WHAT?!”

Juntae grinned nervously, adjusting his glasses. “My eyes too… they went straight to Sieunie’s lips when I first met him.”

Suho gasped so loud the phone mic cracked. “JUNTAE!” His jaw dropped, hand still clamped protectively over Sieun’s pouty lips. His expression was the very definition of betrayed puppy.

But Juntae wasn’t done. He leaned a little closer to the phone, eyes flicking from Suho to the flood of comments, and said shamelessly, “I’m not sorry. His lips just… look so plump. And the funniest part? Back then he didn’t even use chapstick — not once — and they still looked irresistible.”

That was the last straw. Suho let out a strangled noise, practically half-scream, half-growl, and swatted the air like he was physically batting away Juntae’s words.

“YOU LITTLE THIEF!” Suho cried, pointing a shaking hand at him, eyes wide with fury. “WERE YOU PLANNING TO STEAL THESE LIPS?! Just like you STOLE my baby’s phone?!”

Juntae’s eyes widened, full deer-in-headlights mode. “Yaaahhh! What are you even— I wasn’t gonna steal anything!” He threw his hands up, offended as Baku and Gotak howled in the background.

Baku nearly fell over. “Oh my god, Suho, calm down—he only confessed about lips!”

Gotak, smirking: “You make it sound like Juntae was about to pull off a heist.”

Baku laughed so loud, “But Sieun's lips are actually a literal heist though!”

Suho was already shaking his head violently, clinging tighter to Sieun, his words spilling out in dramatic, lovesick fury.

“NO ONE touches them! NO ONE even thinks about them! They’re mine, only mine!” His voice cracked, his pout trembling as he buried his face into Sieun’s shoulder again. “Yah, Juntae, I’ll kill you if you try—don’t test me!”

[@minty_mochi]: “YOU LITTLE THIEF” 😭😭😭 IM CRYING

[@ash_draws]: not the lip heist 💀💀💀

[@ghostbyte]: he guards those lips like national treasure 😭😭😭

[@violet_rose]: juntae pls run for ur life 😂

[@retrocat]: suho accusing ppl of lip theft… this is PEAK psycho bf 😭

[@starlitdreams]: sieun just sitting there while chaos burns around him 😭💜

Sieun finally pried Suho’s hand off his mouth, blinking at him with that signature deadpan stare, lips still soft and pink from being squished. “…You’re impossible.”

Suho immediately whined, hugging him tighter, muffled against his neck. “Maybe. But I’m yours. Forever.”

The gang groaned in unison, while the comments screamed hearts and crying emojis.

Gotak and Baku were doubled over, laughter booming so loud the phone mic cracked. Gotak wiped his eyes, shaking his head. “Honestly? I was more obsessed with Sieun’s pen than his lips.”

That set Baku off even harder, clutching his stomach, practically falling into the couch.

Sieun chuckled quietly, biting down on his bottom lip to hold it in. His shoulders shook just slightly, his rare, soft laugh slipping out.

The second Suho saw it, he froze, eyes widening like he’d just witnessed something forbidden. “BABY—don’t laugh like that!” he yelped, clutching his chest dramatically. “My heart can’t bear it! I’ll die right here!”

He reached over, cradling Sieun’s face in both hands like a man on the edge, eyes frantic.

The chat went insane, spamming nonstop:

[@minty_mochi]: HE SAID HIS HEART CAN’T BEAR IT 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: HELP HE’S SO PATHETICALLY IN LOVE 💀

[@retrocat]: suho’s down bad LEVEL 10000 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: baby’s laugh is his weakness 😭💜

[@violet_rose]: imagine being so obsessed you can’t survive a smile 😭😭😭

Juntae leaned closer, laughing so hard he could barely breathe as he read them out loud. “Suho, they’re saying you’re PATHETIC. But in a cute way.”

Suho gasped again, pulling Sieun closer until their foreheads bumped. His voice was trembling, desperate, needy. “Don’t—no! Don’t say that! This—” he pointed at Sieun’s lip, still caught between his teeth, “—this is mine. Don’t you dare laugh like that for anyone else. It’s mine.”

The gang howled, the phone shaking in Juntae’s hand from laughter. Baku wheezed, “He’s not even jealous of us, he’s jealous of a laugh.”

Gotak groaned, burying his face in a cushion. “This is insane. Absolutely insane.”

But Suho? He didn’t care. His eyes stayed locked on Sieun’s, full of raw devotion and obsession, like he was clinging to the only thing keeping him alive.

Baku leaned forward suddenly, a wicked grin on his face. “You know, Suho… I never said this out loud before, but—” he paused for drama, “—I had a big, fat crush on Sieun back then.”

Gotak instantly snorted, nodding along. “And me? Yeah, I had a crush too. On Sieun’s pen.”

The room exploded with laughter once again.

Suho’s jaw dropped like the ground had been ripped out from under him. “WHAT?!” He immediately grabbed a cushion and hurled it at them with all his might. “YAHHH, YOU WANNA DIE?!”

Baku dodged, cackling, while Gotak just sat there smirking, arms folded smugly.

Through all the noise, Sieun — quiet, calm, untouchable Sieun — actually giggled. He bit his lip, trying to cover it, but the sound slipped out anyway. Soft. Warm. Rare.

And Suho? He froze, clutching his chest like he’d been shot. “Baby—don’t laugh at their nonsense! My heart can’t—aaahh!!” He collapsed against Sieun’s shoulder, whining like an abandoned puppy.

Baku smirked wider, clapping Gotak’s shoulder. “Honestly, Suho, you’re lucky you woke up when you did… or you were going to lose against Juntae.”

Gotak barked out a laugh, nearly doubled over. “Yahhh, true! You’d be single right now.”

Juntae, who had been covering his mouth with his hand, turned bright red. “Noo, shut up!” he whined, glasses slipping as he giggled uncontrollably. “Don’t drag me into this—!”

But his laugh only made Suho whirl around dramatically, eyes wide. “JUNTAEEE!! YOU—YOU LITTLE THIEF!!” He launched another cushion, nearly knocking Juntae over.

Baku and Gotak wheezing so hard they were slapping the couch.

Juntae scrambling to block flying cushions, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

Suho red-faced, puffing like a jealous puppy about to cry.

And Sieun, quiet smile tugging at his lips, flipping a page of his book as if nothing around him was happening — except for the faint blush still dusting his cheeks.

[@minty_mochi]: BIG FAT CRUSH??? OH LORD 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: suho fighting ghosts and pens 💀💀💀

[@retrocat]: juntae thief arc unlockedd 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: sieun giggled = suho on life support 😭💜

[@violet_rose]: he’s so possessive it’s hilarious AND adorable 😭😭😭

[@starlitdreams]: poor suho surrounded by hyenas 😂

Suho froze mid-motion, cushions forgotten, laughter around him fading into static. His eyes snapped to Sieun — who was already watching him.

Book still lazily in one hand, fingers resting on the page like he hadn’t really been reading. One leg crossed casually, the other hanging low off the couch. His posture unbothered, his face unreadable — except for the faintest curve of his lips. That quiet downturned smile.

The kind of smile that wasn’t wide or loud, but devastatingly pretty. The kind that could destroy Suho in seconds.

Suho’s breath hitched audibly, his chest rising and falling as if the room had suddenly run out of air. He stumbled a step closer, eyes wide, his voice cracking when he blurted out:

“Baby… is that true?”

It came out half-demand, half-plea. Dramatic, funny in its sheer intensity — but also raw, like the answer would dictate his very survival.

Sieun didn’t flinch. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t confirm it. He just tilted his head slightly, shrugging his shoulders as if the question itself was too small to matter. His book stayed open in his lap. And that smile — that faint, downward curve — lingered.

Like he knew exactly what kind of chaos it would cause.

Color exploded across Suho’s face instantly. His ears burned red, his cheeks flushed deep pink. He grabbed at his hair, whining dramatically, spinning in a circle like he didn’t know where to put his hands.

“YAHHH, don’t shrug like that! You can’t just—what does that mean?! Baby!!”

Finally, he dropped down in front of Sieun, hands clutching at his knee like a desperate puppy begging for scraps. “Don’t smile like that while you’re shrugging! I’ll die! I’m serious, I can’t breathe!”

The Atmosphere?

Sieun: calm, lips twitching, that dangerous little smile still on display, flipping his page like nothing was happening.

Suho: red-faced, panting, kneeling, dramatic pout trembling, eyes wide with neediness.

The gang: Baku on the floor wheezing, Gotak muttering “pathetic” with a grin, Juntae laughing so hard the phone shook in his hands.

[@minty_mochi]: BABY IS THAT TRUE 😭😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: THE SHRUG + SMILE COMBO DESTROYED HIM 💀💀💀

[@ash_draws]: suho ON HIS KNEES like a lost puppy 😭💜

[@retrocat]: this is pure worship love he’s ruined 😭😭😭

[@starlitdreams]: sieun’s smile >>> suho’s sanity 🥹

[@violet_rose]: the power sieun holds with just a shrug omg 😭😭😭

Suho spun around, still flushed and wild-eyed, pointing an accusing finger at Juntae. His voice cracked as he yelled, “YAAHH, JUNTAE! You little thief! Were you planning to steal my baby from me when I wasn’t even in a condition to stop him getting stolen?!”

Juntae, red in the face from laughing, tried to wave him off. “No! I don’t— I don’t know what you’re even talking about!”

But Suho wasn’t having it. He stomped his foot like a sulky kid, his pout trembling. “Don’t lie! You know everything, you traitor!”

Baku practically rolled onto the floor, howling, “Oh my god, he’s losing it!”

Gotak leaned forward, smirking at Sieun. “Sieunah, you’re too calm. Your boyfriend’s about to throw a civil war over here.”

The two of them kept tossing jabs while Suho wailed, only fueling his meltdown further.

Meanwhile, Sieun hadn’t moved much. He sat relaxed on the couch, one hand propped casually against the armrest, his head tilted into it. His legs were stretched out, posture languid, watching the storm whirl around him with quiet ease.

His glasses slid slightly down his nose, his bangs brushing his eyes — but his gaze was locked on Suho.

And then, in the middle of the chaos, he let out the faintest chuckle. His lips curved into that rare downward smile, his eyes softening.

“He’s cute,” Sieun murmured.

Everything stopped for Suho. The gang’s laughter dulled to background noise, the chat’s chaos faded into static. His entire body froze, his face heating scarlet, his
heart slamming against his ribs.

He spun to face Sieun, eyes wide, like he couldn’t believe he’d actually heard it. “…Baby?!”

His voice cracked, desperate, trembling with both disbelief and joy. His pout wobbled, his invisible tail practically wagging as he stammered, “Say it again… please…”

[@minty_mochi]: HE SAID “HE’S CUTE” OMGGG 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: SIEUN JUST KILLED HIM WITH ONE WORD 💀💜

[@ash_draws]: puppy bf is on his knees 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: he’s ruined, he’ll never recover 😭😭😭

[@violet_rose]: i’m crying sieun’s smile is so soft 🥹

[@starlitdreams]: imagine being loved like this… unreal 😭

Baku, doubled over with laughter, slapped Gotak’s back. “Cute? Are you blind? He looks more like a psycho than anything!”

Gotak smirked, leaning into the camera. “Yeah, Sieun, you should leave him before he chews the furniture. Honestly, run.”

That sent the two into fits, both of them wheezing so hard they nearly fell off the couch.

Suho’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?!” He clutched Sieun tighter against him, as if shielding him from their words. His face was red, his pout trembling, his voice rising in shrill betrayal. “Don’t you dare say that! He’s not leaving me—EVER!”

Sieun, still calm, just rested his head slightly against Suho’s shoulder, lips twitching, watching the storm like it was background noise.

And then, because chaos wasn’t enough, Juntae grinned into the phone. “You guys are right. Cute? No way. He’s full psycho. He just shouted at me for breathing near Sieun!”

The viewers howled with laughter in the comments, spamming emojis and “psycho puppy Suho” hashtags.

That was it. Suho stomped forward, eyes blazing, finger jabbing at Juntae. “YAAAHHH! You know what?! I’m gonna break your phone! You traitor! Give it here to me!!”

He lunged toward him dramatically, arms outstretched like he was ready to wrestle for it.

Juntae squeaked, clutching the phone to his chest as he scooted back on the couch, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “What—no, please!! This is evidence!! Don’t take it!”

The camera shook violently as he tried to keep Suho from snatching it, the whole room erupting with laughter.

[@minty_mochi]: NOT THE PHONE THREAT 😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi: what Juntae joked earlier ended up happening 😂💀

[@ghostbyte]: lol he did say Suho would break his phone 😂

[@ghostbyte]: psycho puppy suho is canon 💀💜

[@ash_draws]: “he’s not leaving me EVER” sir please 😭😭😭

[@retrocat]: juntae protect ur phone at all costs 😂

[@violet_rose]: sieun’s lil smile watching this 😭😭😭 my heart

[@starlitdreams]: he worships him so hard it’s scary and cute at the same time 🥹

The chat went insane, scrolling faster than Juntae could read. Laughter emojis, heart emojis, chaos.

[@retrocat]: is this REALLY our great action star ahn suho??? 😭😭😭

[@minty_mochi]: HAHAHA they’re bullying him live 😭💀

[@ghostbyte]: can’t believe suho’s like THIS at home… bossy & smirky in front of cameras but a whiny puppy here 😭💜

[@ash_draws]: god i would die for sieun’s smile 🥹

[@violet_rose]: i want suho’s friends pls adopt me 😭😭😭

[@pixelheart]: lol they LOVE bullying suho this is too funny 💀💀💀

[@starlitdreams]: the way sieun is LOOKING at him… oh my god 😭😭😭

[@mango_blossom]: i get why he skips industry parties… i would stay home too 😭

[@silverbyte]: man, i want what they have 🥹 pure love

[@lavender_cloud]: sieun’s gaze??? so much love, so much adoration 😭💜

[@tinybun]: the power shift is crazy… suho is the puppy, sieun is the owner 😭😭😭

[@neonbyte]: action star by day, lovesick psycho bf by night 💀💜

[@honeydew]: sieun’s smile >>> oxygen 🥹

[@dream_catcher]: god this feels like watching a domestic kdrama live 😭😭😭

[@softclouds]: he’s not psycho, he’s just in LOVE. like scary-in-love. 🥹

[@pixeljam]: imagine suho at parties… “sorry can’t stay, my baby’s waiting” 😭😭😭

[@rosy_kiss]: i’m jealous of their whole friend group omg 😭

[@starfruit]: the way sieun doesn’t even need to say anything… his eyes alone 😭😭😭

[@moonlit_rose]: no wonder suho never does romance movies… he’s already living one 😭💜

Suho, still red-faced and dramatic from trying to snatch Juntae’s phone, froze when he realized what the comments were saying. His eyes darted to the phone screen, then back to Sieun.

And Sieun… still leaning lazily against the armrest, book resting in his lap, simply watched him. His glasses had slipped a little, his bangs falling over his eyes, but it didn’t matter — his gaze was steady, warm, soft in a way the whole chat picked up on instantly.

A tiny downward smile curved his lips, reserved only for Suho.

The moment their eyes met, Suho’s entire demeanor shifted. His dramatic whining melted into something smaller, more vulnerable. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a shaky whisper meant only for him. “Baby… don’t look at me like that. I’ll really go crazy.”

The gang, of course, laughed harder. But the chat went feral at the rawness in his tone.

It was chaos, laughter, teasing, jokes — but under it all was the truth.

Suho, the country’s most famous action star, reduced to a lovesick puppy at home.

Sieun, calm and quiet, steadying the chaos with a single look, his eyes betraying more love than words ever could.

Their friends, loud and teasing, but clearly in awe of the bond they were watching unfold.

And the fans? They longed for it. They ached for something this warm, this real.

Juntae, still shaking with laughter, tried to hide behind his diary. “O-okay okay, I’m sorry!” His voice cracked as he giggled harder, glasses slipping down his nose.

But Suho was red in the face, puffed up like an angry puppy. He jabbed his finger toward them all. “Just you wait… ALL of you! I’m gonna teach you a lesson later—” He suddenly lunged toward Juntae. “But give me this phone first! I’m gonna break it!”

Baku practically fell onto Gotak’s shoulder, wheezing. “Yaaahhh! He’s serious!”

Gotak snorted, half-laughing, half-teasing. “Imagine being the nation’s top action star and threatening to break a phone on live. Iconic.”

The two of them dissolved into hysterics, while Suho clawed at Juntae, whining.

[@minty_mochi]: GET HIM A LEASH 😭😭😭

[@ghostbyte]: psycho golden retriever energy 💀💀💀

[@violet_rose]: he’s so dramatic i can’t breathe 😭😭😭

[@ash_draws]: sieun pls protect ur phone too 😂

[@starlitdreams]: HE’S SO PATHETICALLY IN LOVE I’M CRYING 🥹💜

[@retrocat]: imagine ending a live with a death threat to a phone 😭😭😭

Just as Suho’s hand nearly snatched the phone from Juntae’s grip, the screen jolted violently — and the live cut out.

The last thing the viewers saw?

Juntae shrieking with laughter.

Baku and Gotak howling in the background.

Suho red, pouty, desperate, still clinging to Sieun with one hand while raging at the others.

And Sieun… leaning calmly on the armrest, book open, lips curved in that tiny, devastating smile.

The comments section, frozen at the end, was still exploding: “CUTEST CHAOS EVER,” “PURE LOVE,” “SOMEONE SAVE THE PHONE,” and “AHN SUHO IS CRAZY FOR LOVE 😭💜.”

That day … that evening … the chaos of teasing and cushions flying, Suho’s laughter had been the loudest. A warm, unguarded laugh, spilling out of him like it belonged to the boy he was before fame, before weight, before fear. Surrounded by his friends. With his baby at his side.

That was the last laugh.

The last time he felt whole.

The last time the world didn’t feel so crushingly silent.

Because then came the quiet. Two long months of it. No shared meals, no warm teasing, no chaotic shouting echoing through the mansion walls. Just stillness. Empty rooms. Empty air.

For Two months, Suho carried nothing but loneliness. It clung to him like a second skin. Every memory of those nights replayed in his head — the laughter, the smiles, Sieun’s downturned grin that undid him completely. And every replay hurt more than the last.

The absence was unbearable. Each day he missed them — missed him — until the weight of it pressed against his ribs so tight he thought his chest might shatter.

And now… here he stood.

In front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him. A white suit hugging his frame, sharp and perfect, every detail immaculate. His hair slicked back, gel catching the light, every strand in place. He looked every bit the nation’s top star, devastatingly handsome.

But beneath that flawless exterior, he was trembling. Nervous as hell. His breaths shallow, his throat dry. His eyes wet with unshed ache.

Because this wasn’t just a wedding suit. It was his lifeline.

This was his last chance to get it back — that laughter, that warmth, that chaotic love that kept him alive. Without it, he feared the silence would swallow him whole. Without it, he feared he might really die.

So he clung to the suit, to the mirror, to the trembling hope in his chest. Because somewhere beyond those doors, beyond this unbearable waiting, was the only person who could save him from himself.

His baby. His reason. His forever.

Chapter Text

The ceremony is held in a spacious countryside estate, far from the city noise. The area stretches wide and open — no walls, no tall buildings, just rolling green fields meeting a horizon of pale blue sky. The place feels airy and endless, dotted with soft wildflowers and delicate white drapes tied to wooden beams. Golden chairs are neatly lined up, their polished frames glinting under the sunlight. The décor is elegant but understated — ivory fabrics swaying lightly in the breeze, crystal glasses reflecting the light, and delicate flower arrangements that look freshly plucked from nature itself.

But the weather is merciless. The sun burns hot above, spilling waves of heat over the open ground. The air feels thick, sticky, almost suffocating. Guests dab their foreheads with tissues, fanning themselves, while the fragrance of flowers mixes with the heaviness of sweat. The beauty of the setting is undeniable, yet the atmosphere makes every movement harder, every breath warmer.

Suho paces back and forth in a room set slightly apart from the open venue. The windows are wide open, but instead of relief, the breeze carries in the scorching warmth of the day. The air feels heavy on his skin.

He’s dressed in a crisp white suit, perfectly tailored, the kind that should make him look regal — and he does — but right now he looks more like a boy trapped in too many emotions at once. His fingers twitch nervously, nails bitten raw as he presses them against his lips. Beads of sweat trail down his temple, dampening the sharp edge of his styled hair.

Suho groans under his breath, restless like a caged puppy. He wants everything to go perfectly — no, it has to go perfectly. Every second counts, every detail must fall in place. He thinks about recording it, about preserving every flicker of this moment, but his own plan keeps him prisoner. Not now. Not this time. Maybe next time, he tells himself, gnawing at his desperation.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, almost trembling. There’s suspense curling inside him, as though time itself is mocking him — every tick dragging slower than the last. Excitement mixes with dread, and his heart races so fast he feels it might leap out of his suit pocket. He squeezes his fists, then releases them, then grips the edge of the table as if holding onto the world itself.

He is yearning, childish, desperate, anxious, beautiful all at once — a man dressed like a prince but trembling like a boy about to lose or gain everything.

The door creaked open, and Baku stepped in. His shoes made a faint crunch against the polished floor. Suho’s head flipped instantly toward him, eyes wide and startled, like a boy caught in a secret. His chest rose and fell, his white suit glowing almost too brightly under the afternoon light spilling through the open windows.

Baku raised his brows, the silent question hanging in the air before he even spoke. He scanned Suho from head to toe — the sweat beading along his hairline, the nervous twitch of his lips, the restless pacing that had worn out the same patch of carpet.

“...You nervous?” Baku asked, voice low, almost careful.

Suho groaned loudly, dragging both hands through his hair until it stuck up in messy tufts. “Nervous” wasn’t enough — he was unraveling, raw and desperate, a puppy gnawing at the edges of its leash. His chest felt too tight. His breaths came too fast.

Baku tilted his head, eyes narrowing, studying him more closely. “Are you… are you sure about this?”

For a moment, Suho froze. His whole body went rigid, eyelashes trembling as he slowly lifted his gaze. The room felt hotter. His throat burned.

“I…” Suho huffed, forcing air out of his lungs. “I’m not so sure anymore…” His voice broke into the silence, thick with frustration. He was breathing hard, lost, confused, his eyes darting between the walls as though searching for an escape. Then his jaw clenched, and he whispered — almost to himself, almost like a vow:
“I’m going to do it.”

Baku’s lips pressed thin. His expression carried doubt, unease, the kind of look a brother would give when he knew the fall would hurt. “This can affect your whole life, Suho.”

The words struck deep. Suho’s breath hitched — sharp, trembling — but he still murmured, with eyes cast downward, “I’m ready for it…”

Baku’s shoulders sank. He exhaled slowly, long and heavy, as though releasing his final resistance. His eyes softened, but worry still lingered in the lines of his face. “...Okay. Okay then. Let’s go.”

Suho didn’t move right away. He stared at his hands, fingers spread wide as if searching for strength in their shape. The skin around his ring finger bore a faint, pale circle — a mark of something once there, something loved, something lost. His throat tightened.

His hand reached instinctively to his chest, tugging at the collar of his white shirt until he felt it — the chain tucked beneath. When his fingers brushed against it, it clinked faintly, dangling against his skin, the sound sharp and intimate in the silence.

He exhaled, shaky, trembling like a boy about to step into the unknown.
“I can do this,” he murmured, almost as if repeating a prayer.

But Baku, still watching him carefully, wasn’t convinced. He could see the crack in Suho’s armor, the fragile childlike desperation just beneath the polished groom’s suit.

“You ready?” Baku asked one last time.

Suho’s breath shook, but he nodded. His eyes were glassy, his lips pressed thin, but his determination burned through the panic.

Baku gave a small nod back, then gently placed a hand on Suho’s shoulder.
“Alright. Let’s go.”

And with that, he led Suho out, step by step — into the heat, into the waiting world, into the choice that would alter everything.

...

Everything was white.

The altar gleamed under the open sky, drenched in sunlight that made every detail almost blinding. White fabric cascaded from tall wooden arches, fluttering in the faintest of breezes. White roses spilled from crystal vases, their petals already wilting slightly in the heat. White chairs stood in neat rows, but most were empty — no crowd, no media, only a handful of faces that truly mattered. Even the aisle was a strip of pale fabric, so clean it looked untouched, like no one had ever dared to walk on it.

It should have been perfectly beautiful, like a scene pulled straight out of a magazine, but the glaring sunlight pressed down cruelly. The white reflected it back like fire, searing into the skin, making sweat bead at every hairline. The beauty was undeniable — but so was the discomfort.

Suho stood on the altar, fingers twitching nervously at his sides. His whole frame was stiff, chest rising and falling too fast. He kept darting glances around, eyes flicking from one familiar face to another.

Juntae sat quietly, hands folded in his lap, his round spectacles glinting. Gotak shifted restlessly, sweat dripping down his temple, but his gaze never left Suho. His manager hovered at the side, expression unreadable, calculating.

And then — what the hell — Suho’s eyes snagged on him.

Seongje.

His stomach dropped. That bastard. That unwelcome shadow. Suho’s throat tightened, and for a second he forgot how to breathe. His palms curled into fists, his teeth biting down on his lower lip until it almost hurt.

Fuck. What’s he doing here…?

Suddenly nothing felt steady anymore. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, so fast it made him dizzy. His breaths came shallow and sharp. Could he really go through with this? Could he stand here, under the white arches, under everyone’s gaze — and actually do it?

The sweat trickled down his spine, soaking the crisp white shirt under his jacket. He tugged at his bowtie, loosening it until the knot sat crooked. His skin burned; his mouth felt dry. The suit, the altar, the flowers — all of it suddenly felt like a cage.

It was a bad idea. A stupid idea.

Holding the ceremony out here — in the open air, under the blazing sun — what was he thinking? He should have chosen a hall. Something indoors. Somewhere with air-conditioning, with walls to hide behind, with a ceiling to stop the heat from clawing at his lungs.

But no. He hadn’t done that.

Because he hadn’t talked to anyone… hadn’t asked the one person who would have seen through this mess. The one who always thought ahead, who always had the same wavelength as him. Someone who would have pointed out the flaw, who would’ve given the smart answer before he even asked.

Someone with the smart brain.

The thought clawed at his chest like a ghost — uninvited, but impossible to push away.

Suho’s lips trembled as he sucked in another breath. His eyes flicked helplessly, like a puppy lost in a crowd, looking for a familiar hand to anchor him. His fingers flexed, opening and closing, searching for strength.

Can I really do this?

The beauty of the white altar, the elegant silence of the open space, the presence of his friends — none of it calmed him. Instead, it all pressed heavier, making him sweat, making him yearn for something else, someone else.

He whispered under his breath, almost too soft for anyone to hear, almost like a plea to himself:
“I can do this… I can do this…”

But the crack in his voice betrayed him. The tremble in his shoulders, the restless shifting of his feet — all of it screamed the truth.

Suho wasn’t sure at all.

Suho wanted it perfect.

Every ribbon, every flower, every angle of the altar — he wanted it all to scream perfection. He wanted to stand there in his flawless white suit and let the world, or at least this tiny world of people around him, see how perfect life could be with him. How perfect he could make it.

But God — it was hot.
Too hot. The kind of heat that clung to your skin, made your lungs work harder just to keep up. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his collar felt like a noose, and every breath dragged sweat down his back.

Why hadn’t he thought this through? Why not hold the ceremony somewhere cooler? A hall with polished marble and strong air conditioning? Or at least beside the sea, where the breeze could’ve kissed his skin instead of this punishing sun.

Why the hell is he only realizing this now?

Suho groaned softly, shoulders sagging, lips curling in frustration. He could practically hear Baku sighing at him in the background.

Fuck, Suho, you’re such an idiot.

Because the truth was — all he had focused on was making it perfect. Not rational, not practical, not logical. Just perfect. He had obsessed over the way the fabric would catch the light, how the flowers would glow against the endless white, how the image of him standing here would look like a dream carved into reality.

Because it wasn’t really about him. It was about HIM.

The one person he wanted to show this to. To prove this to. To say: look, look how beautiful life can be, if it’s with me.

But when it came to him, Suho could never think straight. Rationality slipped through his fingers like sand. His brain turned to fog, his body turned restless, his heart turned wild. He lost everything — his sense, his patience, even his dignity.

He was a mess of contradictions: dressed like a prince but fidgeting like a boy, sweating, panicking, desperate — yet still grinning sometimes, in that hopeless, self-deprecating way. A puppy trying to build a kingdom, tripping over his own paws but refusing to stop.

It was tragic, it was ridiculous, and somehow it was beautiful.

Suho looked around again. His throat was dry, his chest tight.
He’s still not here… When is he coming?

The thought repeated in his head like a broken record. Every second dragged, every shift of the wind felt longer. Sweat dripped steadily from his forehead, running down the sharp line of his temple, stinging his eyes.

Behind him, Baku’s voice broke through.
“Hey… you okay?”

Suho nodded too quickly, too stiffly, forcing a thin smile that fooled no one. His lungs burned as he exhaled, the lie weighing heavy in his chest.

Baku studied him for a beat longer, then sighed. He gave Suho a solid tap on the back — firm enough to ground him, light enough to say I’m here — before walking down the steps. Suho’s eyes followed as Baku leaned toward Gotak, murmuring something. Juntae sat nervously, hands tight around his knees, his round glasses catching the light as he peeked up at Suho like he wanted to help but didn’t know how.

Suho exhaled again. The heat pressed against him, suffocating.
It’s too hot… he’s gonna hate this. He’s going to be so uncomfortable when he finally gets here…

And then Seokdae appeared, striding over to Baku, whispering something hurriedly in his ear. Gotak frowned. Juntae adjusted his glasses again, darting another glance at Suho.

The whole group turned, eyes locking on him at once — on the nervous groom standing alone at the altar. And then, like a rehearsed drama, they all sighed together, shoulders sagging in unison.

Suho blinked, incredulous. Seriously? What the hell are they talking about? Why are they acting like that?

He almost glared, ready to bark something, but he never got the chance.

Because he heard it.

Footsteps.

Light but sharp. A rhythm that sliced through the heavy air, clean and deliberate.

His heart stuttered violently in his chest. His body froze. His ears rang.

He’s here.

He had finally arrived.

Suho’s breath caught, sharp and shallow. His chest rose too fast, his heartbeat thundering so loud he was sure everyone could hear it. His eyes widened, and all at once the world shifted — slowed.

The heat, the whispers, the group sighing, even the blinding white around him — it all fell away.

Everything was slower.
Everything was quiet.

Like the universe itself had pressed pause, leaving only one truth:
Him.

And Suho’s heart, pounding harder, louder, faster, desperate enough to break.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Fucking fuck.

Fuck.

The words hammered in Suho’s skull as he exhaled, hard and trembling, his whole chest rising like he’d just run a race. His lungs burned, his fingers twitched, and his pulse refused to settle.

Because then — he saw him.

He was walking down the pathway like he owned it. Like the world itself had slowed just to carve out space for his stride.

Sieun.

He was dressed in a perfectly cut black suit, the fabric sleek and sharp, hugging every line of his frame with deliberate precision. The jacket was buttoned once at the center, crisp and immaculate, tailored like it had been made just for him — which it probably was. His trousers fell clean and straight, breaking just right above the shine of his polished black shoes. Shoes that caught the light with every step, reflecting the heat, clicking against the floor with an authority that sent chills up Suho’s spine.

A narrow black tie rested against his white shirt, knotted neatly, almost too perfect. A single silver tie pin glinted when he moved, subtle but commanding.

But it wasn’t the suit that made Suho’s lungs collapse.

It was him.

His hair wasn’t slicked back or sculpted like some courtroom display. It was simple, parted lightly, the strands falling soft around his forehead. A few locks curved just above his lashes, catching the light as if painted there. No effort, no show — just him, unguarded, so pretty it was almost cruel. That softness against the sharpness of his suit made his beauty unbearable.

Suho’s chest heaved. His heart pounded so fast it hurt, like it was crashing against his ribs trying to break free. Every breath was shaky, shallow. His throat burned, his fingers twitched.

Too pretty. He’s too damn pretty.

He looked like he had been carved out of Suho’s own yearning — an answer to every desperate prayer, every sleepless night, every second of obsession. And now he was here, walking down the white pathway as if the world itself bent for him.

Suho’s knees weakened. His lips parted soundlessly. His white suit felt childish beside that black perfection, mismatched in a way that made his whole body ache.

Because how could he ever stand equal?
How could he ever match him?

His heart fluttered, raced, tripped over itself, then started again, each beat louder, harder, deeper.

Why is he so beautiful?
Why does he always look like this?
Why can’t I ever breathe when it’s him?

And with every step Sieun took closer, Suho felt himself unravel — desperate, helpless, like a puppy on trembling legs, ready to break just from the sight of him.

His jaw was set, his eyes calm but cold — that lawyer’s gaze that never flinched, never faltered. The kind of gaze that could strip someone bare without a single word.

He looked devastating. Unshakable. Breathtaking.

Suho shuddered, an involuntary tremor running through him. His knees nearly gave out under the weight of it. His white suit suddenly felt flimsy, too soft, almost childish compared to the authority Sieun carried in black. They looked like polar opposites — Suho the trembling groom in pale, nervous purity, and Sieun the unshaken figure in stark, commanding black.

The mismatch stabbed him.
The contrast was unbearable.
His chest ached with it.

Why does he look like that?
Why does he always look like that?

Suho’s heart thudded painfully, fluttering out of control, racing so loud he swore it drowned out the world. His lips parted, breath shallow, every exhale trembling. His hands clenched and unclenched, desperate to grab onto something, anything.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run.
Mostly — he just wanted to collapse into him.

Because how unfair was it?
That Sieun could simply walk — and Suho would fall apart.

But then…

Sieun slipped into a seat.

The movement was smooth, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. He set his black briefcase neatly on the ground, and beside it, a glass bottle — Suho’s eyes caught on it, the dark liquid glinting under the sunlight. Wine? Maybe. He didn’t even know. His head was too light, his chest too tight.

Gotak leaned in, muttering something under his breath. Sieun gave the faintest nod, a silent acknowledgment. Juntae tilted his head to listen, glasses sliding down his nose, while Baku answered in that steady way of his.

Then Seokdae’s eyes sharpened, glaring directly at Sieun.

And Sieun — calm, steady, infuriatingly composed — glared right back.

The air between them sparked, but Suho wasn’t really watching that. He couldn’t.

Because fuck — Suho couldn’t avert his eyes.

There he was. Sitting there.

Not doing anything dramatic. Just existing. Legs crossed, posture straight, hair falling soft against his forehead. That black suit hugging his frame, the white shirt crisp against his skin, the bottle catching the light by his side.

He looked like a god sitting among mortals.
And Suho’s whole body trembled with it.

Fuck. He wants to go there. He wants to fall at his knees, press his forehead against him, worship him. Call him baby. Call him his. Just… stay there, with him.

But he couldn’t.

Because Sieun was there — sitting.

When he was supposed to be here.

Beside him. On this altar. In this heat.

But he wasn’t. And Suho was standing here, alone, under white arches that suddenly felt like a prison.

His hand tightened around his wrist, fingers digging deep, trembling. He flexed, then gripped harder, as if the pressure could stop his chest from breaking open.

Fuck. He wants to go there. To his baby.

His baby, sitting in black, calm and untouchable, when Suho’s entire soul screamed for him at the altar.

His heart thundered so fast it shook through his ribs, every beat loud, fluttering, unbearable. His throat was dry, his breaths ragged. The world blurred — the white décor, the murmurs of his friends, even the heat — none of it mattered.

All he saw was him.
All he wanted was him.

And yet, here he stood.
Alone.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Suho saw it.

Seongje.

That smug bastard, lips curled into a smirk while sipping from a glass of wine, eyes sliding exactly where Suho didn’t want them to — at him.

Fuck. No. Don’t look at him like that. Don’t you fucking dare look at him like that.

Suho’s throat tightened, fury burning under his skin, his chest squeezing with something he couldn’t tame. His fingers twitched at his sides, nails digging into his palm.

Seongje poured another glass, slow, deliberate, as if to mock him, then moved toward Sieun.

Suho’s whole body jolted. His breath caught. His heart slammed against his ribs like it wanted to tear out.

Sieun lifted his gaze, calm and composed, eyes flicking up at Seongje, then lowering to the glass in his hand. His lips pressed into the faintest line, and he shook his head once.

But that smile — that slimy smile — stayed plastered on Seongje’s face as he leaned closer, insisting, urging him silently to take it.

Fuck. Fuck. Get away from him. Don’t offer him anything. Don’t even breathe near him.

Sieun shook his head again, sharper this time, his chin tilting toward the bag resting by his leg. His lips moved, soundless across the distance — I have a hearing.

And Suho knew. Of course he knew. Even from feet away. Because his eyes had already found them — those lips.

Those soft, full, plump lips that had ruined him for anyone else. Lips Suho was addicted to, obsessed with. Lips he loved to bite until they were red, swollen, lips that made him lose his mind every single time.

He could read them like scripture. He could read exactly what Sieun was saying without hearing a word.

Hearing.
He’s leaving soon.

The world tilted, crushing down on Suho. His lungs locked, his knees nearly buckled. The altar, the white flowers, the suffocating sun — none of it mattered.

All that mattered was him.

And the thought of him leaving.

Fuck no. Fuck no. He’s not leaving. He can’t leave.

Suho’s heart raced so fast it hurt, blood pounding in his ears like thunder. His vision tunneled, locked on Sieun. Possession clawed through him — ugly, raw, beautiful, terrifying.

Because Suho didn’t just want him. He needed him.
Needed him like air.
Needed him like blood in his veins.

And the idea of those lips walking away, of Sieun slipping out of his reach again, was enough to tear him open.

No. No, baby. You’re not leaving me. Not again.

Inside, Suho was shaking, laughing, crying, unraveling all at once. A puppy ready to whine and a madman ready to snap. His obsession burned bright, beautiful, psychotic.

He didn’t just want to run to him. He wanted to drag him here.
Keep him here.
Chain him here if he had to.

Because Sieun wasn’t supposed to be sitting there.
He was supposed to be here.
With him.

And Suho would burn the whole world white if that’s what it took.

But Suho can’t do it right now.
He can’t burn the world.
Not here, not now.

Fuck. This was a stupid idea. A very, very fucking stupid idea.
Whatever he was doing — standing at this altar, pretending he could hold it together — it was madness.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught it again. Seongje gesturing toward the bottle, lips curling, voice low. Asking something. Offering again.

And then—
Suho’s heart stopped.

Because his baby looked at it.
At the bottle. That faint, flicker of longing crossing his face, so subtle but Suho saw it. He always saw it.

Was that his favorite wine?

No. No, Suho would’ve known. He would never forget something like that — not if it was about him. Not if it was about his baby.

Suho’s chest ached as his mind scrambled, clawing through memory after memory, every dinner, every quiet night, every stolen moment. His brain raced, desperate to place it, desperate to know. The label, the curve of the bottle, the deep red inside — it all looked familiar. Too familiar.

And that terrified him.

Because if it was his baby’s favorite, then how could Suho not remember? How could there be even a single detail about him that slipped away? He prided himself on knowing everything — every preference, every habit, every quirk, every tiny thing that made Sieun, Sieun.

The thought of forgetting — even one drop, one trace — made his heart clench, his throat tighten. His lungs fought for air.

No. Impossible. I know him. I know him better than anyone. He’s mine. He’s always been mine.

And yet… his eyes flicked to Sieun’s face, catching that fleeting longing there. The way his baby looked at the glass, at the wine — just for a second.

It shattered Suho.

Desperation surged through him, raw and suffocating. His lips parted, breath trembling, yearning pouring out of every pore. He wanted to scream, to cry, to collapse, to swear to the world that he knew. That he remembered everything. That no one could ever know him the way Suho did.

But the fear lingered.
The bottle stood there, familiar, taunting, making him doubt himself.

And that doubt felt like betrayal.

Because if there was even one thing he forgot about his baby… what did that make him?

Suho’s fingers shook where they gripped his wrist, nails pressing deep into skin. His heart beat so violently it hurt. His obsession clawed higher, hotter, until it swallowed everything else.

He wanted to run down the aisle, take the bottle, smash it, scream that no one had the right to know his baby like that — not Seongje, not anyone.

Because no one loved him the way Suho did.
No one could.

His chest squeezed. Fuck. Why does it feel like he knows?

Seongje leaned closer, murmuring something else.
And then—every pair of eyes turned.

On him.
On Suho.

Even him.

Sieun’s gaze lifted, those brown doe eyes locking with his. Big, soft, infuriatingly beautiful. A punch straight to his chest. Suho’s breath hitched so violently it felt like his lungs cracked.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

And then Sieun did it.

The smallest gesture.

A bow.

Just a polite little nod, nothing more.
A stranger’s courtesy.

Like Suho was nothing more than an acquaintance.
Like he was just another face in the crowd.

Like they hadn’t shared the same sheets, tangled in sweat and whispers.
Like they hadn’t breathed the same air in the dark, pressed chest to chest, hearts beating as one.
Like they hadn’t spoken in half-words and touches, desperate kisses carrying more truth than any vow.

Like they weren’t Suho-and-Sieun.

The madness in Suho’s chest swelled until it was unbearable, burning hot, pressing against his ribs like it wanted to split him open.

Fuck. No.
Don’t bow to me like that.
Don’t act like I’m no one.
Don’t look at me like a stranger when I’ve known every inch of you — when I’ve kissed the pulse at your throat, when I’ve held you until morning.

The thought broke off, jagged, because the regret was already slicing him to pieces. Sharp. Twisting. Endless.

It made him mad.
It made him desperate.
It made him want to laugh, scream, cry, and collapse all at once.

Because Suho didn’t want Sieun to bow.
He wanted him to reach.
To close the space between them.
To remember. To look at him the way he always did — like Suho was the only thing that mattered in this goddamn world.

But instead, Sieun’s bow cut like a knife. Polite. Distant. Empty.

And Suho — Suho stood there in his suffocating white suit, sweat dripping, hands trembling, heart pounding loud enough to drown the silence. He stared at the only person he had ever wanted, the only person he had ever worshipped, and watched him treat him like nothing.

His throat tightened, and jealousy surged so violently it made his vision blur. That bow wasn’t just distance — it was rejection. It was proof that Sieun could sit there, talk to others, nod politely at Suho, and still carry on like the past meant nothing.

But to Suho, it meant everything.

He wanted to tear the world apart just to pull Sieun closer. To cage him, to hold him, to keep him forever. He wanted those brown eyes to burn only for him. He wanted those lips — the soft, full lips he had lost his mind over a thousand times — to whisper only his name.

Because Suho’s love wasn’t casual. It wasn’t polite.
It was obsession, madness, fire.
It was the kind of love that consumed.
The kind of love that worshipped.
The kind of love that would never, ever let go.

And now, standing there, all Suho could do was tremble and ache, choking on the unbearable truth —

That Sieun had bowed.
That Sieun had looked at him like he was nothing.
And fuck, it was killing him.

Seongje said something again — a joke, probably cheap, probably laced with that smug flirtation he always wore like cologne.

And then Sieun blinked.

Just once. Slow. Innocent. His lashes lowered and lifted again with that unthinking grace of his, like he hadn’t even noticed what effect he had.

But Suho noticed.

And Seongje noticed.

That blink shifted him — changed him. His whole expression turned, warped, slipping from careless flirty bastard into something darker. A hungry wolf. Eyes narrowing, lips parting, gaze heavy like he wanted to devour him whole.

The gang visibly stiffened. Suho caught it, every reaction: Juntae’s round eyes going wide, Gotak’s mouth falling open, Baku tensing in his chair. Even the air seemed to thicken.

And then Gotak — bless him, clumsy, blunt, infuriating Gotak — actually reached out, snatched the wine glass from Seongje’s hand, and tipped it back in one reckless gulp.

The sound of glass hitting the table was sharp.

Seongje’s jaw tightened, irritation breaking through his mask. Seokdae, already glaring like he wanted to burn the entire scene down, shoved at Seongje’s shoulder and stalked away, his expression unreadable but his message clear.

Suho’s eyes, though, weren’t on them.
They never were.

They were on Sieun.

His baby shifted in his seat, stretching his neck, tilting his head just slightly to the side. That small crack of stiffness, that subtle roll of muscle, and Suho’s chest tightened.

He must’ve stayed up late again. Studying. Preparing. Whatever case he had picked up must’ve swallowed his hours. It was nothing new — not for him, not for a lawyer who burned himself alive for work. But still… every time, it felt new to Suho. A new worry. A new ache.

God, you must be tired…

Then Sieun lifted his hand, stretching his fingers out, flexing them before glancing down at his watch. The movement was casual, but Suho’s heart thudded like it had been shot. Every detail was magnified — the veins in his hand, the curve of his wrist, the soft slide of his sleeve against his skin.

He turned, lips moving. “When will it start?”

Directed at Baku.

And Baku, caught off guard, blinked, then glanced quickly toward Suho before answering, “Just… in a minute.”

Suho’s lungs squeezed. His throat closed. His heart slammed against his ribs hard enough to bruise.

Just a minute.

Just a minute until he lost him.
Just a minute until this suffocating charade began.
Just a minute until Sieun — his Sieun — walked out again, leaving Suho stranded under the white arches, drowning in regret and yearning.

Sweat slid down Suho’s temple, dripping, burning like fire. His fingers tightened around his wrist, digging in until it hurt. His whole body trembled with the force of keeping still.

Because all he wanted to do was run to him.
Fall at his feet. Beg him not to go.
Call him baby and pull him close, never let him bow, never let him look away again.

But he couldn’t.
Not yet.

So Suho just stood there, heart racing too fast, fluttering too wild, his love spilling out of him in raw, desperate waves — a worshipper staring at his god, and breaking apart in silence.

Suho’s gaze locked again — he couldn’t look away even if someone had held a gun to his head.

Sieun pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, lifting it with that same quiet grace that had always ruined Suho. He dabbed at his temple, wiping away the fine sheen of sweat. It should’ve been nothing — a simple, ordinary gesture. But in him, even that looked deliberate, perfect, almost divine.

So goddamn pretty. Too pretty.

Then his hand drifted lower.

He unbuttoned his jacket with a slow flick of his wrist, the dark fabric falling open just enough to frame him differently — sharper, looser, more dangerous. His legs shifted apart, widening a little as he sank into the chair, that casual sprawl of power and calm that Suho knew too well. Effortless. Natural. Like the world belonged to him.

Then came the tie.

His fingers tugged it loose, one lazy motion, the silk knot slipping apart and hanging open against his chest. That calm, unbothered elegance — it drove Suho insane.

And then—fuck.

The first button gave way.
Then the second.

The collar spread open, just slightly, teasing, revealing the delicate hollow of his throat, the sharp hint of collarbone, the faint flush of heat painting his skin. A bead of sweat traced down, catching the light as it slid, so slow, so cruel, disappearing beneath the fold of his shirt.

Suho’s breath caught violently. His chest seized. His body went rigid, thighs tightening hard. His pants grew too tight, unbearable.

Fuck. Fuck. He’s hot. He’s so fucking hot I can’t even breathe.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t human. That someone could look like that — so soft, so pretty, and at the same time so sharp, so untouchable. It was contradiction wrapped in black fabric, it was temptation sitting right there in front of him, and Suho couldn’t look away.

The altar blurred. The flowers, the gang, the suffocating white — all of it disappeared.

There was only him.

Only the sweat sliding down his throat.
Only the way his fingers brushed casually at those buttons.
Only the way he sat there like a god Suho had spent his whole life worshipping.

And worship — yes, that’s what it felt like.

Because this wasn’t attraction. It wasn’t a crush. It wasn’t even love anymore, not in the small, human sense of the word.

This was obsession. This was need. This was devotion so deep it hollowed him out. Suho wanted to fall to his knees. To beg. To bite. To claim. To never let anyone else see what he was seeing.

He’s mine. He’s always been mine. No one gets to look at him like this. No one. Not even the world.

Suho’s heart thundered painfully, every beat a scream. His breath came ragged, desperate, heat crawling up his neck. His entire body was shaking with it — with the beauty, the torture, the unbearable purity of wanting someone too much.

It was worship.
It was madness.
It was him.

Then — a sound shattered the moment.

A choking noise.

Suho’s head snapped around, sharp as a blade. His eyes cut straight to Seongje — spluttering, coughing, red wine spilling down the side of his glass in a messy streak.

Heat surged up Suho’s chest, fury twisting into something blacker, darker. Of course. Of course he was watching. Of course that bastard had his eyes glued to him. Of course he’d seen what Suho had seen — the loosened tie, the open buttons, the sweat on his throat. Of course he was drooling like a starved vulture circling overhead.

Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare look at him like that.

The wine dripped over Seongje’s hand, staining it, the smirk trembling on his lips even as he coughed. The sight made Suho’s vision blur at the edges. Rage crashed through him, wild and feral. Possession roared in his chest, clawing at his ribs, violent and primal.

Because Sieun wasn’t just “sexy.”
He wasn’t just beautiful.

He was Suho’s.

Always had been. Always would be.

No matter how many polite bows.
No matter how much distance.
No matter what this fucked-up ceremony pretended to say.

The thought of anyone else — Seongje with his wolf grin, or any other pair of hungry eyes — even looking at Sieun with hunger made Suho’s stomach twist, his fists curl so tight they ached, his chest thunder with a rage he could barely contain.

There was no competition. There never had been.

There was only him.
Only them.

Suho and his baby.

And the rest of the world?
They could choke on their wine and die.

Yet Sieun sat there, all calm, all untouched, as if none of this chaos around him mattered. His face betrayed nothing, but Suho caught it — the subtle flick of his wrist, the way his gaze kept slipping to his watch. Once. Twice. Again. Time ticking, reminding him he wasn’t staying.

And then his phone. He slid it out, long fingers brushing against the screen, typing something quick, clean, efficient. Work, probably. Always work. Always slipping away.

But Seongje — fuck, Seongje couldn’t stop staring. His greedy eyes clung to Sieun like claws. Watching his every move, like a man thirsting for something he had no right to even dream of.

Suho’s whole body trembled. He almost climbed down right then. Almost stalked across the aisle, ripped those glasses off Seongje’s smug face and shoved them into his own eyes just so he’d see how disgusting he looked. See how wrong it was to look at Sieun like that.

He almost did. Almost.

Until Seokdae returned.

And in his hand—someone else’s.

White. A vision in white.

A gown that trailed like liquid light. A head covered in lace. A bouquet of heavy white flowers clutched in both hands.

Yeongi.

She looked like a fairy, fragile and radiant, floating instead of walking. Every step slow, deliberate, beautiful.

Everyone stood at once. Chairs scraped back. Murmurs cut off. The air shifted into reverence. Respect.

All eyes moved to her.

Except Suho’s.

His eyes never left Sieun.

Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Sieun, sitting there with his phone resting against his thigh, his hair neat but never too polished. A few soft bangs had slipped loose, falling over his eyes, catching the light. It made him look… unbearably human. Beautiful in a way that broke and healed in the same breath.

And Suho — Suho’s chest caved. His lungs burned. Terror knotted itself around his ribs.

Because this wasn’t right. None of it.

He was standing at the altar for someone else.
But his entire being — heart, body, soul — was bowing already. To him. To Sieun.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His love was too deep, too raw, too consuming. His obsession had carved him hollow. And now, as the fairy in white glided forward and the world rose to greet her, Suho’s heart bled its truth:

He didn’t want this wedding.
He didn’t want this altar.
He didn’t want anyone else.

He only wanted him.

And the terror of that truth — of standing here, about to destroy everything — made his knees tremble, made his vision blur, made his very soul ache.

Because in the end, no matter who walked down the aisle, no matter how many stood to honor her, Suho knew one thing with a clarity that felt like death.

His eyes would never, could never, leave Sieun.

Suho didn’t even realize when Yeongi reached the altar. One moment, the world was still stuck on Sieun’s undone tie, his half-open collar, the way his bangs curved across his forehead — and the next, Yeongi was standing right in front of him.

White gown flowing, bouquet pressed close, her head dipped just slightly under the weight of lace. She looked perfect — too perfect. But Suho’s heart didn’t skip for her. His chest didn’t ache for her. His eyes didn’t want her.

The wedding prayer began.

The hush fell heavy over the place. The man officiating the ceremony — just some middle-aged figure in a black suit — cleared his throat and began speaking. His voice was steady, carrying the practiced weight of blessing, promise, unity.

Words Suho couldn’t absorb. Words that slipped through his ears without meaning, drowned out by the pounding of his heart.
And then — his name.

“Groom, Ahn Suho.”

Damnit.

Suho had to turn. He snapped his head toward the officiant, glare sharp enough to cut. The poor man faltered, flinching under the heat of it, but forced his voice steady, continuing with the lines he was paid to say. Words about union, devotion, forever — words that meant nothing.

Because Suho’s mind was elsewhere.

It wandered relentlessly, back to where it always belonged.

He couldn’t resist. His eyes averted again, slipping away from white lace and empty vows, sliding across the rows of seats until they found him.

Sieun.

Now holding his phone to his ear, his tone low, his posture collected, checking his watch in between words. Focused, distant, already half gone. Juntae beside him looked uneasy, worried even, his gaze flicking between Suho at the altar and Sieun with the phone, lips pressing together as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

Suho’s heart squeezed.

No. Fuck no. This is wrong.

Sieun should be looking at him.
Not at his watch. Not at his phone.

At him.

He should be watching Suho right now — watching him stand in this blinding white suit, looking perfect for him. Because that’s who Suho dressed for. That’s who this was for. Not for Yeongi. Not for vows that meant nothing.

But for him.

Fuck.

Every breath tore out of him like glass, shaky and uneven. His chest hurt, his vision blurred at the edges, his throat locked tight. Terror slithered into him — because what if Sieun never looked? What if Sieun never saw him here, right now, desperate and dressed in white, waiting for eyes that refused to meet his?

It was obsession, pure and unyielding.
It was love, too deep to be healthy, too consuming to be denied.

He wanted to scream: Look at me. Look at how perfect I am for you. Look at me standing here when I should be standing there with you.

But all he could do was stand still, sweat soaking his skin, heart pounding so violently it made his body tremble, while the officiant’s words blurred into nothing.

Because the only thing that mattered was that Sieun wasn’t looking.

And it was killing him.

Sieun just sat there, not looking affected at all. Calm, steady, untouched by the heat or the tension. And that — fuck — that made Suho lose his mind. How could he be so composed when Suho was burning alive inside this white suit? How could he sit there like nothing had ever happened, like Suho wasn’t breaking at the altar?

Then his name again.

“Ahn Suho.”

The officiant’s voice cut through the blur, urging him now, asking for his vows.

Suho’s lips parted, but no words came. His throat locked. His chest shook. He mumbled something — not vows, not anything close — and his eyes dragged helplessly back to him.

To Sieun.

Who was no longer sitting.

He had stood, moving quietly toward the far corner, phone pressed to his ear, voice low, his posture sharp and professional. Just business. Just another call. Just another reason to be far from Suho.

But Suho’s eyes followed like a shadow, desperate, hungry, aching.

Fuck. He wants to go there. He wants to cross the aisle, push past every single person, and just engulf him in his arms. Hold him so tightly he never slips away again. It’s been six months. Six long, empty, lonely months without him. Six months of silence, of restless nights, of waking up with nothing but cold sheets. He can’t take it anymore. He needs him.

The officiant’s voice broke through again.

“Groom, please say your vows.”

And something inside Suho snapped.

He turned, chest heaving, eyes wild, voice breaking out before he could stop it —
“Fuck—just continue!”

The man flinched, his papers trembling in his hands, but nodded quickly, moving on in a stutter, his words spilling into the suffocating silence.

And Suho stood there, fists trembling at his sides, sweat clinging to his skin, heart thundering so violently it felt like it might burst.

Because no matter what anyone said, no matter what vows he was supposed to speak — there was only one truth clawing at his chest, raw and unstoppable:

He didn’t want this.
He didn’t want vows with anyone else.
He only wanted him.

Only Sieun.

And fuck, that pure, unbearable love was killing him.

The man flinched at Suho’s shout, stumbling over his words. And in that flicker of silence, Suho saw it —

Sieun turning.

Those dark brows twitching, his expression breaking for just a moment, concern slipping through. As if Suho’s voice, ragged and sharp, had landed on him instead. As if he thought the anger was meant for him.

And Suho’s chest ripped open.

No. Baby, not you. Never you.

Inside, he almost begged, his heart crawling to the ground at Sieun’s feet. The vows rose in him unspoken, never meant for this altar, never meant for Yeongi. They were only for him.

For you… there will never be anger. Only patience, only warmth. For you, it will always be flowers, always petals falling wherever your steps take you. For you, I would bow my head to the earth, kiss the dirt your shoes touch, worship even the mud beneath your feet.

For you, my hands will never shake with rage — only with the trembling of love. For you, every vow inside me already belongs. My days, my nights, my breath, my blood — all of it is yours.

I promise you steadiness when the world falters. I promise you stability, even if I have to tear myself apart to give it. I will be your shield when you are tired, your wall when you are cornered, your silence when you need rest. I will carry your sadness as my own, your happiness as my only victory.

For you, there is no anger, no betrayal, no leaving. Only devotion. Only forever. If you fall, I will catch you. If you stumble, I will hold you. If you break, I will be the pieces until you are whole again.

For you, my heart is not mine. It is your safety. Your anchor. Your proof that even in this cruel world, something can belong wholly to you.

Every vow men speak at altars, I have already spoken inside me, countless times — but only for you. Always for you. My baby. My forever. My only.

The officiant’s voice cut back in, slicing through the air: “Bride, your vows.”

Yeongi lifted her head, bouquet shifting in her hands, but her voice came flat, almost bored. “No vows.”

No vows. The same as him.

The man blinked, confused, his gaze darting between the two of them like he couldn’t quite believe it. His lips parted, stammering out the beginning of some scolding thought. He looked at them like he wanted to ask the obvious: Why are you even marrying if you have nothing to promise each other?

But before he could say it, Yeongi sighed, tilting her head with impatience.
“Just continue, old man.”

Her words landed with a thud.

The officiant’s jaw tightened, his face pinching with offense. Still, he pressed forward, flipping to the next line in his script. His voice rang out, but the weight was gone, the ceremony unraveling.

And then the words that made Suho’s stomach knot, that sent his heart racing into his throat:

“You may kiss now.”

The air froze. His blood burned. His vision swam.

Fuck. When will it happen? Why hasn’t it happened yet?

Every second dragged, every heartbeat thundered louder. Terror and obsession mixed, twisting inside him.

Is my plan failing? Is everything falling apart?

His hands clenched, his body trembling. The altar blurred, the flowers blurred, Yeongi blurred — everything except Sieun, who still stood just feet away, unreachable.

And Suho’s entire soul screamed for him.

He looked at his baby.

Sieun’s jaw was set tight, his mouth a straight line. Expression calm to anyone else, but Suho knew. There was something in his face — a flicker, a storm just beneath the surface.

Suho’s chest caved.

Then he turned — Yeongi stood before him, bouquet steady, lace falling over her face. Her expression… bored. So fucking bored. Her brows lifted, her lips twitching in annoyance as if to say: What now?

And Suho froze.

What now.
What now, what the fuck now…

His plan… failing. Slipping. Breaking in his hands.

The officiant’s words hung in the air — you may kiss the bride.

But Suho couldn’t move. He couldn’t bend down. He couldn’t touch her.

Because no. No. NO.

His lips — his mouth — those soft, special lips that trembled with every prayer, every vow, every desperate kiss — they belonged to only one person.

Yeon Sieun.

Only Sieun.

His baby.

Suho’s lips belonged to his lips, those full, plush, maddening lips that had ruined him forever. The lips he had bitten, worshipped, lost his mind over a thousand times. The lips that still owned every part of him.

No. Never. Not anyone else. Not her. Not here.

His chest shook. His throat locked. Panic clawed up his ribs like fire, spreading until he couldn’t breathe.

Because if he gave them away now — even once — it would be betrayal. It would be a lie. It would be spitting on everything he had ever felt, everything he had ever promised in silence.

No. No one else gets this. No one else will ever have me. My lips are his. My vows are his. My life is his. Yeon Sieun — only you. Always you.

And Suho’s whole body trembled with it — the terror of failing, the fear of being caught, the love so deep it drowned him, the refusal so sharp it cut him open.

He couldn’t kiss her.
He wouldn’t.

Not when his heart already belonged, not when his lips already swore their vow — forever — to Sieun.

“Holy god… just kiss already, for fuck’s sake,” he heard that bastard mutter.

The words sliced through the air, mocking, filthy, dragging Suho’s nerves raw. His pulse spiked, racing so fast it felt like his chest might collapse. Sweat slid down his forehead, dripping into his lashes, burning his eyes.

Yeongi stood there, bouquet in her hands, heavy gown clinging to her under the heat. She must be suffocating in that dress, Suho thought distantly — but his mind twisted away just as quickly.

Because all he wanted — all his body screamed for — was to go down there. To cross the distance. To bend his head and blow cool air across Sieun’s open, delicious neck, that honey-sweet skin glistening with heat and sweat. His baby’s neck. His.

His baby.

Then—another voice.
“Suho…” Baku. Low, warning, pressing.

A loud sigh followed — Gotak, restless, impatient, the sound of someone who didn’t know what to do.

And still, Suho felt Seokdae’s glare like fire against his skin. Sharp. Cutting. Judging.

But it was the silence that killed him most.
Juntae. Too quiet. Too still. Watching everything. Probably seeing through him. Probably knowing.

Suho’s heart hammered, each beat more frantic than the last, every second dragging like eternity.

And then it came.

The voice he fucking hated.

Cold, bored, cutting through everything.
“Just kiss her already, man. I need to drop him at court.”

Court.

COURT.

The words slammed into him like a blade.

His neck snapped so fast toward the sound, he almost wondered how it didn’t break. His eyes locked — furious, wild, desperate — because how dare he?

He glanced at his baby.

And his stomach dropped.

Because Sieun was looking at him. Not with indifference, not with coldness — but with something far worse. Hurt.

His eyes carried it, quiet and deep. Longing buried under restraint. Like he wanted to reach for Suho but couldn’t. Like he wanted to break but wouldn’t. That familiar wall sliding back into place — his coping mechanism, his armor, his way of surviving when everything cut too deep.

And Suho realized it too late.
Too late that he had caused it.
Too late that he was the one making him look like that.

The pain nearly buckled his knees.

Suho’s chest heaved, his breath catching on a sob he couldn’t let out. Every part of him screamed to leave the altar, to run to him, to fall at his knees and beg for forgiveness. To offer his life at his feet, to swear devotion until death, to undo every wound with every vow he had left inside him.

But before he could move—

Sieun turned his head.

Toward that bastard.

Toward Seongje.

The hurt in his face shifted, replaced by confusion. His lips parted, words slipping out softly:
“Why would you drop me?”

Like the thought itself didn’t make sense.

And Seongje — fuck him — just smiled. That sly, flirty smile, teeth flashing, eyes narrowing like he had already won.

Suho’s blood boiled, fury clawing up his throat. Why the fuck would this bastard even say that? Why would he even dare? It’s Suho’s duty. His privilege. His right. No one else’s. Never anyone else’s.

His eyes burned as he watched Sieun drift closer to the others, standing where their friends had gathered. Baku. Gotak. Juntae. All of them in a line, uneasy, restless. And there — too close — was Seongje. Standing beside his baby. Too near. Too smug.

Giving him that fucking smile.
That disgusting, flirty smile.

Suho’s fists trembled, nails digging into his palms. I should break his teeth. I should break his face. How dare he stand near him. How dare he breathe near him.

But then Sieun looked back at him.

His baby. His pretty, devastatingly sexy, impossibly perfect baby — eyes calm, face unreadable, but ready to leave.

Suho’s lungs locked, his heart stuttered violently.

Yes. Yes, he deserved to be looked at.
Yes, he deserved to be the one Sieun’s gaze never left.
Yes, he deserved it — because he was the only one who loved him like this.

Look at me, baby. Only me. Always me. God, please — only me.

The yearning swallowed him whole, pulling him under, leaving him trembling at the altar, caught between breaking and burning.

Because Sieun was ready to walk away.
And Suho — Suho wasn’t ready to let him go.

He saw him sigh. A soft exhale, almost invisible, but Suho caught it. Of course he did. He caught everything about him.

Then Yeongi’s voice — sharp, impatient — cut across the heat.
“Yah, Suho.”

His name. Her demand.

But Suho barely heard her, because another voice followed — the one he hated.

“Just do it, man. Just do it… so I can already start courting him.”

The last part wasn’t meant to be heard. It slipped out like poison under the breath. But Suho heard it. He heard it clear. And so did everyone else.

His blood ran hot, fury clawing through his veins like fire.

And then — the worst of it — his baby looked up.

Sieun. His baby. His pretty, perfect baby, blinking at Seongje with that confused, flustered expression Suho knew too well. His lips parted, mumbling out a soft, stunned, “What…?”

Suho’s chest tore open.

Behind him, the sound — Juntae giggling, nervous and wide-eyed. Gotak smirking like he had just been handed the best entertainment of his life. And Baku — tight-lipped, but Suho saw it. The twitch at the corner of his mouth. The glint in his eye. Amused. So fucking amused.

How dare they. How fucking dare they.

His friends. His so-called brothers. Betrayal sat sharp in his gut, twisting deep. They were laughing. Laughing while that bastard stood there, while his baby’s doe eyes went wide and soft, while his lips — those lips Suho worshipped — formed words for someone else.

Sieun — god, Sieun.

So pretty. So cute. So heartbreakingly amazing. Looking at him. Looking at that bastard.

No. Don’t. Don’t look at him. Don’t give him your eyes. He doesn’t deserve it.

Suho’s heart raced, wild and panicked, his throat dry, his fists trembling at his sides. His chest heaved with every breath, and the world blurred at the edges.

Your eyes… your beautiful, sweet, perfect doe eyes — they deserve so much more. They deserve love that worships, love that protects, love that would burn everything just to keep you safe. They deserve me.

Possession surged in him, dark and desperate.

Because Suho knew the truth with terrifying clarity:

Those eyes, those lips, that sigh — all of him. Every part of him.
Belonged only here.
To Suho.

And he’d tear the whole world apart before letting anyone else claim them.

And then Seongje did it.

Bit down on his own lips, smiling — that cocky, flirty curve. And his eyes weren’t on Suho.

They were on him.

On Sieun.

His Sieun.

Suho’s body moved before his mind could stop it. He stepped off the altar, the white suit heavy on his shoulders, heart hammering in his ears. His voice cracked out, low and sharp, trembling with rage.

“The fuck did you say?”

Every eye turned. But Suho didn’t care. Couldn’t. His gaze flicked only once — to Sieun. His baby. His beautiful, perfect baby — eyes wide, startled, looking at him. Only him.

But Seongje — that bastard — didn’t even glance at him. Didn’t acknowledge him. His eyes stayed glued to Sieun, unwavering. His tongue swept across his lips, wetting them, his gaze trailing down the line of Sieun’s neck. The silk collar clinging to his skin.

And Suho saw red.

His whole vision flooded with it. The burn of it rushed through his chest, his fists, his bones. He wanted to kill him. Tear him apart with his bare hands. Fuck. Fuck it. Fuck this.

He took another step, his voice shaking, breaking, louder now.
“The fuck did you say? Huh? Say it again.”

Still nothing. Still no glance his way. Seongje’s focus never wavered, drinking Sieun in, like Suho wasn’t even there.

The rage tore Suho open. He shoved him, hard, his hand pressing against Seongje’s chest.
“Stop looking at him, you fucker!” His voice cracked, raw, desperate, spilling everything he couldn’t hold back. “What did you say!?”

Finally — finally — Sieun’s eyes found him again.

And Suho’s world cracked.

So pretty. God, he was so pretty. Even in this chaos, even with tension heavy in the air, his baby looked like everything Suho had ever wanted. His eyes, soft and startled, lips parted as if about to speak — Suho’s obsession twisted painfully inside him.

Because beneath his fury, beneath the insecurity, beneath the desperate need to claim and protect, there was only one truth beating through him, stronger than everything else:

He loved him.
Too deeply. Too helplessly. Too much.

And standing there, trembling with anger, shaking with fear, Suho knew he would destroy the whole world before letting anyone else touch what was his.

Seongje laughed, low and careless, as if none of this meant a thing.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that…” he said, lips curling, eyes gleaming. “But yeah, it’s okay.”

Suho’s fists trembled. His knuckles whitened, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. His whole body quaked, every nerve screaming. He didn’t blink, didn’t breathe — just stared, daring him to repeat it.

And Seongje did.

Smiling wider, voice sickly sweet.
“I said — kiss her already. Get fucking married already. So I can officially start courting your ex. Yeon Sieun.”

The name rolled out of his mouth like a claim, like a challenge.

Sieun’s head jerked, lips parting, a small sound slipping from him.
“...Yah.”
Soft, startled, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

But Seongje only leaned closer, smiling at him, syrup-sweet, as if the chaos around them was nothing.

Suho’s vision shattered. Red, all red, blinding, violent. His lungs seized, his throat locked, his chest burned with something too wild to contain.

And the worst part — the most unbearable part — his baby kept looking at him.
At him.
At that fucking bastard.

Every second Sieun’s doe eyes stayed on Seongje felt like knives twisting into Suho’s chest. His heart slammed harder, louder, until he thought it might burst from the sheer pressure of it.

He shoved Seongje again, harder this time, his voice breaking, spilling from his throat ragged and raw:
“Why would you? Why would you — when I exist? When I’m… Ahn Suho. I’m alive!”

The words cracked, half a scream, half a plea. It wasn’t just rage. It wasn’t just jealousy. It was anguish, deep and primal. A confession tangled with insecurity. The desperate cry of a man who couldn’t bear being invisible, who couldn’t bear Sieun’s gaze falling anywhere but on him.

Because what was he if Sieun chose someone else? What was he if Sieun forgot?

Nothing.
He’d be nothing.

The gang moved — Juntae half-rising, his hands hovering like he wanted to pull Suho back but didn’t dare. Gotak clicked his tongue, muttering a sharp “yah, enough,” but his smirk had vanished now, replaced by something heavier. Baku’s jaw clenched, his hand lifting slowly as if ready to step in, his eyes darting between Suho and Sieun like he was gauging if this would explode into something none of them could stop.

The air was suffocating.

Suho’s chest heaved, his fists trembling, his whole body shaking with the weight of it — love too deep, devotion too sharp, insecurity gnawing at him until he thought he might rip himself open.

Because he wasn’t just angry at Seongje.
He was terrified.
Terrified of losing what he couldn’t survive without.

And through it all, his baby stood there, eyes wide, lips parted, so goddamn pretty — looking at them both.

And Suho thought he might die from it.

He was flaring, his whole body trembling like a live wire. He could almost feel vapor rising off him, the heat of his rage so sharp it made the air shimmer. His skin burned, his chest a furnace, every breath ragged and uneven.

“Hey… calm down,” Baku’s voice cut through, low and firm, steady as always. A grounding force trying to pull Suho back. But it only made him shake harder.

And then — Yeongi’s voice, sharp, disinterested, cutting through the tension like a blade.
“So is it over then?”

He blinked, startled, finally noticing her at his side. When had she stepped down from the altar? When had she come so close? He hadn’t seen. He hadn’t cared.

Because his entire focus was locked on the bastard in front of him.

Seongje’s smile widened, cruel and careless.
“Why would I? Why would I WHAT? Court him?”

Seongje still not done, scoffing, lips curling like poison.
“Of course because you’re getting married. To her. And Yeon Sieun is available. What more reason would I need?”

The words hit like glass, shattering through the room.

And Suho saw it — saw his baby’s face twist.

Sieun’s eyes widened, disbelief cutting sharp across his features. He looked at Seongje like the words were filth, like he couldn’t even process the insult of it. As if just hearing his name spoken like that was enough to wound.

Suho’s chest split wide open.

His baby. His smart, precious, too good baby.
Too good for this bastard. Too smart, too beautiful, too fucking perfect to ever be spoken of like he was some prize waiting to be picked up.

Suho’s eyes burned, his throat ached with everything he wanted to scream. Don’t look at him, baby. Don’t listen to him. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.

And then — the sound.

A sharp trill.

Sieun’s phone lit up in his hand, vibrating insistently. His eyes dropped, lashes lowering as he glanced at his watch. Once. Twice. A sigh left him, soft but heavy, dragging through the silence like a knife.

“I need to go,” he murmured.

And just like that — he reached for his bag. Calm. Efficient. Detached.

But to Suho, it felt like the world caved in.

His heart slammed hard, his stomach twisted violently, his chest locked so tight he could barely breathe.

No. Not yet. Don’t leave me. Don’t walk away. Don’t choose the world over me again. Six months was already too long. I can’t—

Desperation clawed at him, eating him alive, leaving him trembling and hollow, but still full of a love so deep it refused to die.

Because every step Sieun took toward that bag wasn’t just a step away from this ceremony.

It was a step away from him.

And Suho couldn’t bear it.

His head spun, the world tilting, blurring into white and heat.

How could he? How could his baby leave him here?

It tore out of him before he could stop it — raw, loud, desperate:
“Yaah! Are you really leaving me… here… just like that!?”

The room froze. A beat of silence.

Gotak muttered under his breath, lips twitching, “Suho’s gone mad. Finally.”

But Suho didn’t hear. Couldn’t hear. Because Sieun looked at him.

Those eyes — calm, steady, cutting right through him. That gaze that always made Suho weak, made his knees soften, made his chest ache. His baby, looking at him, studying him like he was a puzzle only he could solve.

Sieun sighed, low, almost tired. “It’s getting late. I have a hearing.”

The words stabbed. Cold. Practical. Ordinary.

And Suho broke. His voice cracked, a whisper scream, trembling out of him like he was begging the air itself.
“What about me? What am I supposed to do?”

Sieun tilted his head, that tiny motion that always undid him, soft bangs falling across his forehead.

And Suho was gone. Utterly gone. Oh, his baby. His perfect, cruel, pretty baby. Even in this moment, even while walking away, he had Suho wrapped around his finger.

Then Sieun’s lips parted, words falling out so simply it cut deeper than any blade:
“...Get married, I guess. Isn’t that why we’re all here?”

It was brutal. Honest. Ironic.

And Suho felt the laughter clawing at his throat, sharp and hysterical. Because wasn’t it hilarious? Wasn’t it fucking hilarious that everyone thought he was here for vows, for promises, for someone else — when his whole world was standing there, sighing about court and hearings, telling him to just go through with it?

It was agony, it was comedy, it was love so deep it hollowed him out.

Suho trembled in his white suit, sweat clinging to his skin, his whole body pulled taut like a bowstring about to snap. He wanted to scream, laugh, cry — all at once.

Because his baby was leaving.
And he couldn’t follow.

His eyes went wide, unblinking, words spilling out half-breathless, half-crazed:
“Get married… I should get married… and you… what about you? Are you gonna allow this bastard near you!?”

The silence cracked. Heads turned. The heat swelled.

Sieun blinked, his brows furrowing, confusion slipping across his calm face. “What…?”

That voice, soft and bewildered, should have soothed him, but it only tore Suho deeper apart.

Sieun glanced at his watch again, the movement casual, detached, like Suho’s storm wasn’t touching him at all. He exhaled, voice even but clipped. “Whatever. You don’t have to involve yourself. I should go. Well… congratulations.”

The words landed like stone.

And just like that, he turned — picking up his bag.

And the wine bottle, already stepping away.

Suho’s heart fractured. His throat locked. His legs screamed to move, to throw himself forward.

And then he saw it.

Seongje.

Smirking, lips curved with that smug, flirty poison. Following. Following his baby.

Something inside Suho snapped clean in half.

“No—”

He lunged, his hand shooting out, grabbing the bastard by the collar. He yanked him back, hard enough that Seongje stumbled.

The gasp that went through the room was sharp, almost comical.

Gotak muttered, “Oh shit, here we go.”
Juntae covered his mouth, stifling a giggle.
Baku pinched the bridge of his nose like this was inevitable.

And Suho — red-faced, sweating, eyes wild — snarled, voice cracking between heartbreak and hysteria:
“Stop following him, you fucker!”

The whole scene teetered between tragedy and farce. Because to Suho, it was life or death. But to everyone else, he looked like the groom who had finally gone insane at his own wedding.

And maybe he had.

Because nothing mattered. Nothing but this.
Nothing but protecting his baby.

His voice cracked higher as he turned, shouting again, louder this time, “Yaah! Sieun-ah!”

The name rang out, raw and naked, echoing through the white ceremony space.

Sieun stopped mid-step. He sighed, head tilting slightly, glancing at his watch like he was deciding whether he even had the patience to deal with this circus.

Suho’s chest heaved, his eyes darting — and then he caught it. The wine bottle. Sitting pretty in a pretty and soft hand, glinting in the light.

His brows furrowed. Where… where had he seen it before? Why did it look so damn familiar? His head spun, scrambling through memory, but then his mouth was moving before his brain caught up.

“Tell me!” Suho demanded, his voice rising, desperate, trembling. “What do you think about it? Huh? Is it nice? Is it perfect?”

Sieun blinked, taken aback, his lips parting like he wasn’t sure if Suho was asking about the entire wedding or just a bottle of wine. He sighed again, adjusting the strap of his bag in his hand.

“It’s hot here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “I’m sweating.”

Suho’s heart squeezed, but Sieun continued, his tone softening just a touch.
“…But it’s good. All the flowers and all. It has a nice smell. It is perfect.”

And Suho’s chest bloomed. Proud, giddy, a wave of warmth crashing through him so strong his knees nearly buckled. His beautiful baby. His precious, perfect baby liked it.

Yes. Yes, Sieun thought it was pretty. His baby thought it was perfect.

Then the words tumbled out of him, helpless, whiny, his voice pitching high like a child begging for candy.
“Then why didn’t you say anything!!??”

His bottom lip wobbled. His hands spread helplessly, his entire body leaning forward like a puppy about to trip over itself. He practically whined.

The room erupted.

Gotak slapped his thigh, laughing. “God, he’s really crying about centerpieces now!”
Juntae pushed his glasses up, grinning wide, whispering, “I told you, he’s gone completely insane.”
Baku groaned, pinching his nose again. “This is embarrassing. Secondhand embarrassing.”
Yeongi rolled her eyes so hard she almost tipped her bouquet. “Pathetic.”
And Seokdae muttered under his breath, “This isn’t a wedding, this is a comedy show.”

But Suho didn’t care. Couldn’t.

Because Sieun had said it.
Perfect.

And Suho would carry that one word like it was the only vow that mattered.

Sieun blinked, lashes lowering, voice calm, almost detached.
“Because it’s not for me. Nor my place to comment about your wedding.”

Suho’s heart cracked.

What…? What the hell…? How could he think this?

Like Suho would ever — ever — do anything for someone who wasn’t him.
Like Suho would pick flowers, drape arches, stand in white, sweat in the sun — for anyone else.

Impossible.

Doesn’t he know? Doesn’t he feel it?

Everything he touched, every thought, every moment of breath — it was all for him. Always him. Only him.

Baby… no. It’s never about anyone else. Not her. Not them. Not this ceremony. It’s always been about you. It’s always been yours. My heart, my body, my vows, my lips — they don’t exist outside of you. You’re the reason I breathe, the reason I can even stand here without crumbling.

Like Suho could ever give a damn if someone else thought this place was perfect.

It was for him. For Sieun. Always Sieun.

God, how can you not see it? How can you not know that everything I am is yours?

The ache flooded him, raw and endless, filling his chest until he thought it might rip open.

No one else deserves it. No one else deserves me. No one else deserves my love. Only you. Always you.

And Suho’s fingers clenched around nothing, trembling, desperate, wanting to shout it into the air — wanting his baby to finally see.

Sieun glanced at his watch again, that soft sigh slipping past his lips. “I really should—”

“Beg me,” Suho cut in.

The words cracked out of him, raw and sudden, shocking even himself.

Sieun froze, his brows lifting, his head tilting. “...What?”

Suho’s chest heaved, his eyes wide, desperate, pleading like a child lost in a storm. He took a step forward, hands half-reaching, trembling.
“Beg me. With those big, pretty eyes—desperate, pleading—beg me not to marry her.”

Juntae choked so hard on his own breath he nearly fell off his chair.
The entire room gasped, a chorus of disbelief.

Sieun’s lips parted, his face unreadable, shock flickering across it. He blinked once, twice. “...What!?”

But Suho didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His voice broke, frantic, wild, tumbling out too fast, too raw.
“Beg me not to marry her, Sieun. Or—no. You don’t even have to beg. Just ask me. Just once. Just tell me not to. Just say the words. And I’ll listen. I’ll listen to you. Always. Just you.”

The silence was so sharp it was almost funny.

Gotak slapped a hand over his face, muttering, “This guy’s finished.”
Baku’s jaw tightened, torn between dragging Suho back or letting the chaos explode.
Juntae was wheezing, glasses slipping down his nose, whispering, “He’s insane, oh my god, he’s actually insane.”
Yeongi rolled her eyes so hard she almost sprained them. “Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.”
And Seokdae just muttered darkly, “I just want to leave.”

But Suho didn’t hear any of it.

His whole world narrowed to Sieun — his baby, his everything, standing there with that startled expression, looking at him like he had lost his mind.

And maybe he had.

But Suho didn’t care.

Because if it meant Sieun would stop him, if it meant Sieun would just ask him not to do this, he would burn the world and kneel in the ashes.

Sieun looked at him, disbelief plain in his face, his lips parting like he couldn’t even process the words. Then, slowly, a scoff slipped out, sharp and humorless.

“Why should I…?” His voice was low, steady, laced with quiet fury. “This is what you wanted. To get married. So do it. Why should I say it?”

The words slammed into Suho’s chest, shattering him.

“No—no, Sieun-ah…” Suho’s voice cracked, wild and desperate, his whole body trembling as he lunged forward, grabbing at his hand. His fingers clung tight, pleading, shaking. “You need to say it! Please. Please say it. Please—just once!”

The gasp in the room was deafening.

Sieun’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing as he jerked his hand free, swatting Suho’s grip away. The movement was sharp, final.

“Yaah, Ahn Suho…” His tone was calm, almost too calm, but beneath it was steel. “Have you lost it?”

Suho froze, his breath hitched, his heart twisting painfully at the sound of his full name on Sieun’s lips.

And then Sieun’s voice cut deeper, steadier, each word like a knife:
“You’re the one who broke up with me. You. Not me. YOU asked for it. I begged you not to. I begged that we could find a middle ground. But no—you were the one who ended it.”

The air thickened, heavy with shock. The gang’s eyes widened, mouths opening, some of them too stunned to even breathe.

The words hung in the air like a bomb.

Suho’s face crumpled, his lips trembling, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He looked insane—standing there in his white suit, sweaty, red-faced, unhinged—while Sieun stood like a blade, sharp, unyielding, his anger quiet but devastating.

Gotak muttered under his breath, “Holy shit…”
Juntae was gripping the back of a chair, whispering, “This is better than Netflix.”
Baku pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning.
Yeongi rolled her eyes, muttering, “Can I just go home already?”

The whole scene had spun out of control, dramatic, chaotic, hilarious in its insanity.

And at the center of it, Suho—madly in love, desperately clinging, breaking apart—faced the one person he couldn’t live without.

And Sieun—furious, hurt, unbelieving—looked at him like he was nothing but a mess he couldn’t afford to touch again.

Suho whimpered again, broken, clinging.
“Sieun-ah…”

But Sieun’s face didn’t flinch. His voice cut like cold iron.
“Shut up. I begged you not to do it. Again and again. But you did it anyway.”

He sighed, long and heavy, shoulders rising and falling.
“Why the hell am I wasting my time here?” His tone was flat, calm, final. “Well—congratulations.”

His eyes flicked toward Yeongi, who stood there with her bouquet like she was holding a bag of groceries, the most disinterested bride in history.

And then Sieun did it.

He bowed.

Sharp. Polite. Detached.

“Enjoy your life, I guess.”

Suho’s heart crashed through his ribs. His vision blurred. He saw it — the bow, the respect — and his brain short-circuited.

Respect? For her?

For fuck’s sake, Yeon Sieun. What does that even mean?

He stood frozen, trembling, lips parted like some fool abandoned at the altar (which, technically, he was).

But Yeongi — Yeongi was smart enough to read it.

Her eyes widened, bouquet almost dropping. She gasped, her voice sharp, cracking through the suffocating heat:
“...Sieun-ah.”

The weight in her tone said it all. She understood. She knew. The respect, the bow, the detachment — it wasn’t courtesy.

It was rejection. It was betrayal. Of her.

And then Sieun turned, already leaving, his bag slung over his shoulder, calm as if the entire wedding wasn’t collapsing behind him.

Yeongi whipped toward Suho, her voice slicing through the chaos:
“Yaah! Ahn Suho! My friendship is at risk here!”

The whole place exploded.

Gotak slapped his thigh, wheezing. “She’s blaming you for this!”
Juntae slid halfway off his chair, tears streaming down his face from laughter. “I can’t—oh my god, I can’t breathe—”
Baku muttered, “This is a trainwreck,” but his lips twitched like he was biting back a grin.
Seokdae groaned, crossing his arms. “Embarrassing. Every single one of you.”

And Suho — Suho just stood there, chest heaving, staring at the space Sieun had left.

And then it hit him.

The bow. The respect. The indifference.

Not about manners. Not about Yeongi.

It was betrayal.

His baby. His beautiful, perfect baby — giving her that same cold edge he had given Suho when his heart was broken. That detachment wasn’t politeness. It was punishment.

And Suho’s knees nearly buckled under the weight of it.

Fuck. He’s not just leaving me. He’s leaving because of her too.

The hall was chaos. The bride shrieking about friendship, the guests gossiping like they were watching a drama premiere, the gang either laughing or hiding their faces.

And Suho, sweaty, pale, and trembling in his immaculate white suit, whispered to himself like a lunatic:
“Not her, baby. Never her. Look at me. Only me.”

It was tragic. It was hysterical. It was heartbreak with slapstick timing — the groom unraveling at his own wedding while his ex walked away without a single hair out of place.

And then he was really leaving.

Just like that. Calm. Untouchable.

Suho’s mind spun in circles — what should he do? What could he do? His body moved before his brain caught up. He reached sideways, ripped the bouquet right out of Yeongi’s hands.

“Yaah—!” she yelped, scandalized.

And then, without hesitation, Suho hurled it across the hall.

The bouquet spun through the heavy air like a missile of roses and ribbons and smacked square against Sieun’s back.

A collective gasp rattled the room.

Suho’s voice tore out of him, raw, frantic, cracking:
“Yaah! Yeon Sieun! You can’t leave!”

The sound echoed off the white arches, so loud it made even the officiant flinch.

Sieun stopped. Slowly. His head tilted just enough to glance down at the flowers now lying pitifully at his feet. Petals scattered on the ground, bruised and bent.

He stared for a beat. Rolled his eyes.

And then—without a single word—he turned again. Kept walking.

Suho’s chest collapsed. His throat seized. His whole body shook, teetering on the edge of collapse.

“YAAAAH!” he screamed again, voice splitting, desperate, almost comical in its sheer volume.

The hall descended into chaos.

Gotak dropped into a chair, clutching his stomach from laughing too hard.
Juntae wheezed, “Did he just throw the bouquet—oh my god—”
Baku muttered, “I knew this would happen,” dragging a hand down his face.
Yeongi shrieked, furious, “Those were imported lilies, you psycho!”
And Seokdae muttered flatly, “This is the dumbest wedding I’ve ever attended.”

And at the center of it all, Suho stood panting, sweat dripping, his white suit wrinkled, his hands trembling, screaming after the only person he couldn’t bear to lose.

A tragedy. A comedy. A spectacle.

And yet for him, it was simple.

Don’t leave me, baby. Please. Don’t leave.

Seongje was second to leave, smirk carved sharp across his lips, hands shoved lazily into his pockets. He turned at the doorway just long enough to flash Suho the middle finger — bold, mocking, a final insult.

Suho’s blood boiled so hot he nearly blacked out.
“No—no, this fucker isn’t following my baby—”

He lunged, ready to rip him back by the collar, ready to end it right there, but Baku’s arms locked around him from behind.
“Yaah! Calm the hell down—”

“LET ME GO!” Suho screamed, thrashing in white, sweat pouring down his face. “LET ME GO, I’M GONNA KILL HIM!”

Gotak, arms folded, leaned back with a smirk.
“Suho, you don’t need a bride. You need a psychiatrist. Brain doctor, ASAP.”

“SHUT UP!” Suho barked, his voice breaking. His eyes were wild, his lips trembling, his chest heaving like he was already halfway insane.

And in the middle of it all, Yeongi yawned. Actually yawned.
“Is it over then? Can I change? This dress is fucking heavy.”

The officiant still stood frozen at the altar, papers in his hands, wide-eyed like he’d wandered into the wrong drama set. He hadn’t blinked in five minutes.

Suho was panicking now, shaking against Baku’s grip, shouting nonsense.
“No—no, I need to marry Sieun—I NEED to tie myself to him—legally, forever! He’s mine! Mine!”

The words echoed off the white arches, insane and raw and pathetic.

And yet… if he had looked — just looked — he might have seen it.

The way his friends exchanged glances, tight-lipped, struggling not to laugh. The way something sly curled in their expressions, like they knew more than he did.

Or maybe he would have noticed someone else.

Someone calm. Beautiful. Pretty.

Someone who had paused at the edge of the venue, some of crushed imported lilies still in hand where they had landed.

Someone who had looked back over their shoulder.

And smirked.

Not cold. Not polite. Not detached.

But like it was a victory.

Like the bouquet had never been thrown away. Like it had been caught.