Another Life || Stray Kids

by wolfanddancer

Summary:

Emily Anderson has a picture-perfect life - wonderful fiancee, perfect job, and the best father in the world. Everything was going the way it should, and then one day, her father dies in a freak accident and her world comes crashing down. Nothing makes sense anymore and bad things keep happening - what's a girl to do?
After jumping on a plane, Emily finds herself in Seoul, South Korea only to discover that her bad luck has followed her there. After a whole day of trying to make sense of her new situation, she finds herself in the company of a handsome stranger with an Australian accent who saves her from herself and shows her something different...Another Life.

Chapter 1

"Ma'am? There are others behind you. I need to know where you want to go."

I wipe a tear away from my face, sniffling. I look up at the board behind her and wonder how life had brought me to this moment. Just three weeks ago, everything had been seemingly perfect. Great job, wonderful fiancée, the best dad in the world. Then, without warning, my father died.

"Um...Seoul, South Korea, please." I hand her my passport and everything else needed to book the flight. Normally spending nearly five figures on a whim would send me into a panic, but in the last three days, my perspective had changed. I went home when my father died to handle his estate, the funeral, and everything else that the next of kin gets to do when someone dies. While I was there, his attorney visited our family home to talk to me about the will he filed after I moved away to be with my fiancée.

"Your father was a very kind man. It was an honor to have known him."

I nod and thank him, wondering how many more times I'd have to endure a conversation like this. My father was indeed a very thoughtful and generous man, but every word I was forced to speak about him only made his absence hurt more.

"I know you'll be leaving soon, and I wanted to make sure your father's wishes were upheld before you headed back to North Carolina."

He hands me an envelope with my name written on it in my father's handwriting. Inside is a letter from my father and a debit card with my name on it.

Pumpkin,

I love you more than those chocolate chip cookies you'd never give me the recipe to. If you're reading this, then just know everything will be ok. I've left very specific instructions included in my will for Mr. Tess to follow, which I'm sure you've figured out by now. Included with this letter should be a debit card with your name on the front. I started hiding money in this account right after your mother passed, when you were just three years old. There's enough in there to make sure you're well taken care of. Live your life, sweetheart.

Love, Dad

Tears well up in my eyes and I set the letter down. Mr. Tess pats my shoulder, offering me a tissue. I take it, thanking him, and pick up the debit card.

"Do you have any idea how much is in this account?"

He flips through some papers, looking for something.

"Ah, here it is. Your father filed the most recent version of his will with me about a year ago, and at that time...there was...let's see...just under $4,000,000 in this account."

I stare at him in disbelief. "Mr. Tess, I know we've just met, but you should know – my capacity for joking around at a time like this is very low."

"Ms. Anderson, I assure you, this is no joke."

He leans forward, showing me my father's will. Under the list of assets is the account linked to the debit card, and beside it a number that I've never encountered in real life, until now. He hands me the information for the account, packing up the rest of his things in his briefcase.

"Your father spoke of you often. We'd go golfing together every Friday morning and he'd tell me everything you'd been up to down in Raleigh. He said that you brought joy to your fiancée and your art students. I know his passing hurts...but I do hope that you can find that joy within yourself, eventually."

I smile at him and he stands, walking toward the front door.

That was three days ago. I had left Vermont heart broken from the loss of my father, but in my moment of need, he had still managed to comfort me from the grave. On the flight home, I had considered the words in the letter that Mr. Tess had given me. Live my life? Had I not been? I felt like my life was already pretty full, but maybe not. I loved the little life I had grown in Raleigh. My fiancée, Eric, and my students were my everything. Maybe after I got back and I had some extra time, we could take a trip? But where? A lightbulb went off in my head and I immediately pulled up Google to see what you would need to travel to South Korea. While I had been in Vermont handling my father's affairs, I had taken to marathon watching k-dramas on Netflix at night after I had dinner, and I was mesmerized. I quickly applied for a K-ETA and was approved while I was still on the flight. It was good for about two years, which seemed like plenty of time to get everything in order before we took a vacation. All I had to do was talk to Eric about it.

I arrive at the apartment Eric and I share, expecting him to be there, but he isn't. It's late in the evening and the apartment is dark. I turn on the lights in the kitchen and living room, walking around. I walk into our bedroom and notice the bed is unmade and very, very messy. I sit on the edge, feeling uncomfortable but I can't place why exactly. I stand and something drops to the floor from the sheets. The daintiest pair of underwear I've ever seen. I stare at them for a moment, a lump in my throat welling up. I know for a fact that these aren't mine, which could only mean one thing. I pinch the edge of them, picking them up and walking towards the nightstand. I look down to the small trash can and see a used condom, confirming my suspicions. I set the undies on the nightstand and turn, biting back tears. How could he?

I make the bed perfectly, fluffing the pillows as rage bubbles up inside me. Five years. Five years! Five years of my life wasted on a man who cheats on me the moment I leave the state, on the back of my father dying. I set the undies and the used condom in the middle of the bed and take my suitcase and carry-on, heading back out of the apartment. I stand outside and order an uber back to the airport I just came from. I seethe, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to work out my next moves in my head, but all I can think about is his betrayal, and my father dying, and the tiny undies, and the used condom. Over and over, like a traumatic merry-go-round. The uber pulls up in front of me, and it's the same person who dropped me off half an hour ago.

"Hey, didn't I just drop you off here?" he chuckles, opening the trunk for me.

"Yes, you did." I manage to croak out, tears sliding down my face as I hoist my suitcase back into the trunk. I slam it closed and get into the backseat, buckling as I look out the window. There it was – everything I know. My life. The uber driver pulls away from the building and I look down at my phone to see Eric trying to call me. I deny the call and block him without thinking. I block him on all social media, and any shared friends we have and set my phone down, choking back a sob.

Thirty minutes later the uber drops me and my luggage back at the airport, and now I'm paying a ridiculous amount of money for a last-minute flight across the planet to a country I've never been to. I move through the airport in a numb haze, my only concern to get out of there as quickly as possible, to put as much distance as I can between me and these terrible things that have happened. After what seems like an eternity, I finally board the plane, taking my seat in one of the premium cabins in first class. It was way more than I seat, it was more like a small room. One of the stewardesses approaches me and asks me something in Korean, which I don't understand. I look up at her, my eyes and face puffy from crying, and she pats my shoulder and walks away. I sigh and lean my head against the seat, looking around the cabin. After a few minutes, the stewardess comes back with a bottle of water, a plate of hot food, and some champagne. She sets everything up in front of me with a smile and then hands me a pack of tissues. I thank her and she sets off to help the only other two people up here. I quickly down the champagne, looking down at the food. I should probably eat. It all looks delicious, but my appetite is completely gone. I take a few small bites, pushing the food around the plate when the stewardess returns. She motions to my empty champagne glass and I nod, happy that we seem to understand each other even with the language barrier. After my third glass of champagne, I transform the seat into a bed and lay down. The flight is nearly thirteen hours, and I intend on spending most of it asleep. I toss and turn, thoughts of the last few weeks running rampant in my brain. I start to wonder what my father would have to say about all of this. He was never Eric's biggest fan. Ever the cautious parent, he did take me aside and warn me before I moved away from Vermont to go to Raleigh to be with Eric.

"Pumpkin, you know I'll support you in your decisions no matter what." He paused before continuing. "I just think...you're putting in an awful lot of effort towards someone who doesn't seem to care that much."

At the time, I had been defensive. I knew he was right – it had been my idea to make the move, and I planned everything leading up to it. Eric had just been a bystander – watching and agreeing when necessary. What a fool I had been, and now I'm paying the price. On a flight to a place thousands of miles away, just because I wasn't willing to see that we weren't right for each other. I drift in and out of sleep for awhile before finally succumbing to my exhaustion, unaware of the obstacles that await me when we land.

Twelve hours later, I am startled awake by the announcement of our descent into Incheon Airport in Seoul, South Korea. I sit up, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes as the rest of the passengers in first class prepare for landing. I hop down from the bed, gathering what little I had with me, fixing the bed back up into its seated position. I sit and buckle, ready for the plane to land. I lean my head back, thinking of how nice it'll be to lay down in a real bed. A real bed. In a hotel. That I haven't reserved. My eyes snap open and I unlock my phone only to realize that it's still in airplane mode and I can't access anything I need. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. It's totally fine, just a minor error. Once we land and I get off the plane, I'll get my luggage and sit down and find a nice place to stay. No big deal.

The plane lands and I retrieve my luggage, finding my way to the airport café to sit down and figure out somewhere to stay. I sit and look around, still not quite believing what I've done. I shake my head and pull my phone back out, unlocking it and turning off airplane mode. I immediately get an error message, saying that I'm out of network. I sigh and connect to the airport WiFi, which appears to solve the problem. I search for hotels nearby and find a few options, but every time I attempt to make a reservation, I get more errors. I stand, frustrated, and make my way to the currency exchange counter. I get what I think should be enough to reserve a few nights at a decent hotel before I can come up with a better plan. I try to open Uber to get a ride to one of the hotels and get another error message. Great. I walk to the entrance of the airport and step outside, looking for a taxi, hoping I can find someone that speaks a little bit of English. There are a few and I approach the closest one, whose driver is standing outside, smoking a cigarette.

"Hey there, excuse me? Would you be able to take me here?" I hold my phone up to him, showing him a picture of one of the hotels near Olympic Park. He smiles and nods, stubbing his cigarette out on the ground. He helps me get my luggage into the trunk and I climb into the backseat, relieved to be headed somewhere that I can lay down and go back to sleep. I watch the city go by as the driver chats to me in Korean, which I only understand bits and pieces of. It's the middle of the night, but there are still a considerable amount of people out and about and I wonder briefly about the nightlife. After about twenty minutes, we pull up outside of the hotel and I pay the driver, hauling my stuff out of the trunk and up to the front of the hotel. He waves at me and takes off down the street, disappearing around the first corner. I go inside and manage to secure a room for two nights, making a mental note to find a currency exchange later in the day, after I've had a chance to rest.

The room I paid for is spacious and quiet, with windows looking over the street I arrived on. I set my stuff down and sit on the edge of the bed. I smile to myself, feeling a small sense of pride for having made it this far. A few small hiccups, of course. But still, I'm here and in one piece. I grab my suitcase and set it on the bed, opening it to pull out my pajamas. I rifle through it and settle on my favorite oversized t-shirt, disrobing and pulling it over my head. Eric hated when I wore it, so I decide then and there to wear it every chance I get while I'm here. I plug my phone in and turn all the lights off, climbing into the enormous bed. Having slept so much on the flight here, I silently wondered to myself how I could still be this exhausted. But, given the events in the last two days, I guess that I could give myself some leeway to be a bit more tired than usual. I run over everything that's happened in the last few weeks and I feel a lump forming in my throat again, threatening to make me cry. No, no. Not now. I've made it here, to this place across the planet, with not much to worry about, right? Right. Everything is fine. I repeat that over and over in my head until I eventually fall asleep, praying that I still believe it when I wake up.

A few hours later, I roll over in bed to discover that the sun has come up and that I have a massive headache. I groan and sit up, rubbing my temples. Lack of caffeine. I grab my phone off the charger and unlock it, immediately greeted with another error message. I connect to the hotel's WiFi and search for the nearest Starbucks. Luckily, it appears to be right around the corner from the hotel. I drag myself out of the bed and pull some clothes out of the suitcase and get dressed, my brain still in a fog. I slip my shoes on and grab my purse, headed down to the lobby.

Twenty minutes later, I find myself in a very, very busy Starbucks. There's a ton of people waiting around and the menu appears to be different, but I'm so caffeine deprived that I don't care. I order an iced honey black tea, standing to the side to count how much won I have left while I wait for my drink. The barista hands me my drink and I find a table in the corner, sitting down. I sip the tea and sigh, feeling a sense of normalcy I haven't felt in a few days. I drink about half of the tea and pull up the notes app in my phone and start typing a to-do list for the rest of the day, hoping to accomplish as much as possible.

To Do

· find currency exchange

· buy Korean sim card for phone

· find a Korean language guide book

· clothing store??

· Food at some point

I decide to seek out an internet café, since my phone isn't being the most helpful. I remember seeing one last night, when I was in the taxi on the way to the hotel. I leave the Starbucks, my drink in hand, and wander back down the street past my hotel. I'm not in a particular hurry, even though I do have my list. I pass quite a few restaurants, all of them preparing for lunch, and it makes my stomach growl loudly. I quietly tell it to hush up – we have more important things to attend to. I pass a Japanese restaurant and a Chinese restaurant and stop in front of a very large building on the corner. JYP Entertainment. There's a small crowd of people huddled outside it, loitering, but I have no idea why. I make my way past them, a few of them yelling as someone exits the building. I turn around, curious, and see a man with a black face mask waving at them as he gets into an SUV. I continue to make my way toward what I hope is the internet café, my drink now completely gone. After a bit of walking I find it, and it's just as busy as the Starbucks. I make my way inside and find an empty spot with an available laptop. I open it up and sigh. Everything is in Korean. Which I honestly should have expected, but for whatever reason, I didn't. I get up and find another empty spot and connect my phone to the WiFi, intent on crossing off at least the top two things on my list. According to the bit of google maps that will actually load, there seems to be a currency exchange around the corner on the street behind the internet café, and a convenience store beside it that should sell a sim card for my phone. I jot down a quick map and stand, leaving the busy café.

Three hours later, the sun is going down and I've not accomplished anything. Apparently, when you're in South Korea, Google Maps is incredibly inaccurate. After having left the busy internet café and turning the corner, I managed to get lost. The little map I had jotted down was completely useless, and since I wasn't able to use my phone to get around, I had no idea where I was or how to get back to my hotel. I walk by restaurant after restaurant, but no currency exchange or convenience store. My frustration mounts and I pause outside of a craft store, trying to compose myself before I continue. The door to the small store opens and a man wearing a black face mask comes out, a stack of various art supplies in his arms. He almost knocks me over in his haste to leave the store and we both exclaim at each other, moving aside. He cocks his head to the side, looking at me, asking me something in Korean. I sigh, looking up at him.

"I'm sorry, I only speak English."

He clears his throat and pinches his mask down, revealing a bit of his face.

"Are you...ok?"

I sigh again. "No, I'm lost. I've been trying to find the closest currency exchange and a convenience store. Google Maps has only gotten me monumentally lost."

He nods and points further up the street. "Um...mart? Is up there. Bank is closed."

I sigh again, nodding. "Thank you."

He smiles, replacing his mask over his face. I start to walk away and glance back to see him getting in the black SUV I had seen earlier on my adventure. It drives away after he gets in and I wonder who he is and what he does. My mind drifts to the k-drama I started watching when I was in Vermont, and I wonder if I'd have one of those "meet cute" moments while I'm here. I immediately dismiss such a thought, feeling disheartened by the recent betrayal I'd suffered. By the time I find the convenience store, the sun has set and I'm almost in tears. I walk in and walk up and down the aisles, trying to find a sim card for my phone and come up empty. I feel completely defeated and decide to just get some snacks and try to find my way back to the hotel. I pick out a few things and approach the counter, setting them down. The girl behind the counter scans everything, giving me a total. I pull the won I have left out of my purse and count it, quickly realizing that I don't have nearly enough to cover everything. I bite my lip, trying to hold back my tears. I apologize and try to explain to her that I can't buy everything. I pay for a single large chocolate chip cookie wrapped in cellophane and exit the store, sitting down on the bench just outside. I unwrap it, taking a bite as tears cascade down my face. The cookie is overly sweet and reminds me of my father. I sob into the cookie, taking another bite as the events from the last few weeks assault my thoughts. I wish I could ask my father for advice right now, or even just speak to him. I think about Eric cheating on me and I sob harder, giving up on the cookie and setting it on the bench next to me. I lean my head into my hands and just let it out, tears dripping onto the ground as my heart pounds in my chest. I consider the events from today and I start to panic, wondering how the hell I'm going to get the things I need to get around. I'm hyperventilating now, and I hear someone else exit the store, stopping just in front of me.

"Hey, are you ok?"

A clear Australian accent cuts through my haze of tears and panic and I look up to see the kindest eyes I've ever seen in my life. My face and eyes are puffy from crying and I stand, knocking my half-eaten cookie to the ground. My vision blurs, and just as it tunnels, I get a whiff of sweet vanilla and caramel. I try to tell him that he smells good, but all I get out is a grunt before my vision goes black and I pass out.

Chapter 2

Some hours later, I wake up with my face pressed into a couch. I groan and turn my head to discover not one, but three cats curled up on my back and butt. On the ground in front of me are my shoes and a small fluffy dog. I prop myself up on my elbows, not wanting to disturb the cats in their comfortable positions, when we're all startled by a very loud snore from across the room. I sit up and look around as the cats jump down to stretch. On the other side of the room, asleep in a chair, is the stranger from the convenience store. He's just as I remember him – black t-shirt and black gym shorts, sans his hat and shoes. He snores away as I look around, trying to figure out where I am and how I got here. The little fluffy dog jumps up on the couch with me and curls up in my lap, unphased by the snoring coming from my apparent savior.

"Oh, you're awake. Don't mind Chan, he snores."

I look up to see the stranger from the craft store yesterday. He sits on the couch and the fluffy dog gets up to join him.

"This is Kkami, she's my little friend." He pets her lovingly. "I'm Hyunjin. We met briefly yesterday, right? I thought I recognized you when Chan carried you into the house last night."

My eyes widen when he mentions Chan carrying me, and I distinctly remember hearing his Australian accent before passing out.

"Oh, god. Yeah, that was me." I cover my face with my hands, sighing. Hyunjin chuckles.

"These three little demons are Soonie, Dori, and Dong-ie. They're Minho's."

"Who's Minho?" I ask, wondering how many more people could be in this house.

Hyunjin chuckles again, turning to me. "You're not a Stay?"

I shake my head no and he takes a few minutes to explain who they are, and that aside from him and Chan, there are SIX other men living in the house. I look at him incredulously, thinking there's no way that's possible. I try to ask him something, but before I can, Chan cuts me off with a rather loud snore, waking himself up in the process. He sits up in the chair, startled, as Hyunjin and I stare at him. We all stare at each other in silence for a moment, before Hyunjin laughs loudly, holding his stomach as he loses it on the couch. I look at Chan, his eyes still full of sleep and his hair a mess of curls. He yawns and smiles at me, stretching his arms above his head. My heart flutters in my chest and I force myself to look away before I melt into a puddle.

He stands and comes over to the couch, sitting by me.

"How are you feeling?"

I sigh and look up at him. "Physically I'm ok. Emotionally? Not the best. But I'm betting you could probably guess that."

He nods sympathetically, chuckling lightly. "Yeah, the crying and the passing out were both pretty big clues."

I blush deeply, still not believing I basically blacked out in his arms. "I'm Emily. Thank you for saving me."

"Hey, Emily. I'm Chan, or Chris, whichever you like. Are you hungry?"

As if on cue, my stomach growls and I realize that it's morning and the only thing I've had to eat in the last 24 hours is half a cookie. Chan grins at me, standing up from the couch.

"I'll take that as a yes."

He walks into the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head again. I hear the fridge open and pots and pans being moved around in cabinets. Hyunjin sits up, finally over his fit of laughter, setting Kkami down on the floor. He picks up a large sketchbook off the table in front of us and opens it, flipping through the pages. He leans over to me, showing me a sketch of me asleep on the couch, Dori happily napping on my butt. I grin ear-to-ear, laughing. I carefully take the sketchbook from him, admiring the drawing.

"This is really good. You've managed to capture my soul-crushing exhaustion in just a few lines." I sigh wistfully, "I wish I could show this to my students...they'd love it."

Hyunjin's eyes soften and he shifts towards me. "You're a teacher? What subject do you teach?"

"I'm an art teacher for an elementary school back in the States."

Hyunjin's eyes light up and he jumps up off the couch. He exclaims something in Korean and runs out of the room, Kkami at his heels. Chan is in mid-song, singing to himself in the kitchen while he cooks. Still seated on the couch, I lean over, trying to get a good look at him. He has an apron wrapped around his waist that says "#1 DAD", which I chuckle at, because he obviously doesn't have any actual children. He pops a piece of bacon into his mouth, happily humming to himself as he stirs what I can only assume is a large pan of scrambled eggs.

Hyunjin comes back to the living room, his arms full of sketchbooks in various sizes. My eyes widen as he sets the stack in my lap, grinning.

"I've never met an actual art teacher. Would you look at my sketches?"

As I open my mouth to agree, a ruckus interrupts us and three more men erupt into the room, laughing and commenting on the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. They all stop dead when they see me seated on the couch with Hyunjin, confusion washing over their faces.

"Who's our guest?" asks the blonde in the middle, who looks like a ray of sunshine but sounds like he belongs in a romance novel. His voice is probably the deepest I've ever heard, laced with a thick Australian accent much like Chan's. Chan stands in the doorway leading into the kitchen and interjects.

"This is Emily. I saved her from certain death last night. Emily, this is Felix, Han and Jeongin."

They all look at Chan questioningly, and then back to me. Han and Jeongin look shocked, but Felix just shakes his head, amused by Chan's proclamation.

"It's nice to meet you all." I smile at them and they sit on the coffee table, still looking curiously at me.

"Chan-hyung...saved you?" Jeongin asks quietly, as they all wait for me to answer.

I chuckle, looking down and nodding. "Yeah, he uh – he kind of did." I look up and Chan grins at me, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. "The last couple of weeks have been pretty traumatic and it all kind of hit me last night as I was sitting outside of a convenience store. I was crying and panicking and then passed out in front of him. And he apparently brought me here. Oh, um, where is here, exactly?"

Han gets up and opens one of the shades, letting the sunlight in, and allowing me to see the view. "We're in one of the dorm buildings behind JYP Entertainment." And a lightbulb goes off in my head. The big building from yesterday.

"Oh! I saw that building yesterday when I was trying to find my way around."

I look around and realize that my phone is nowhere to be found. I look at Chan, who's still standing by the kitchen. "Have you seen my phone?"

His brow furrows and he stands up straight. "I don't remember seeing one with you when I brought you here. Maybe you dropped it last night?"

I sigh, figuring he's probably right in that assumption. "It's just as well. It's pretty useless, anyway." They all look at me questioningly, Felix the first to speak up.

"What do you mean? Don't you need your phone?"

I spend the next ten minutes recounting my unfortunate adventure from yesterday, all five of them listening intently. I end the story with describing how Chan found me, and they're all silent for a moment, letting my story sink in. Chan comes further into the living room, untying the apron from his waist.

"So, that sounds like it was a terrible day. But, if you don't mind me asking, how did you find yourself in Seoul to begin with? How did you end up here so...unprepared?"

"Oh, you all don't want to hear about that."

I immediately regret saying that, as all five of them protest at the same time, insisting that I share with them. Chan gets up, disappearing into the kitchen for a moment before reappearing with a large plate of food. He hands it to me, with a fork, and tells me to eat. I thank him and begin to eat, telling them about the last few weeks between bites. I explain everything that's happened, from my father dying, to my inheritance, to discovering Eric's betrayal. By the time I'm done, all eight Stray Kids have gathered in the living room to listen to me. The three that I come to know as Changbin, Seungmin, and Minho look confused, while the other five look downright shocked. I continue to eat, the silence filling the room as they all look at each other, unsure of how to respond to what I've just told them. Chan has a stoic look on his face as he crosses the room to sit next to me on the couch, looking like he's deep in thought.

"Would you like to spend the day with us?"

I stop mid-chew and look at him, his perfect lips curled into a hopeful smile. I look around at the other guys, and they're all smiling and nodding along like they think it's the best idea they've ever heard. What harm could it do? Spend an entire day with a group of super-hot, apparent celebrities? If life had led me here, it would be an insult to decline.

I swallow the last bit of food on my plate and nod. "Yeah, sure. That would be ok."

Chan grins and the others get up, filing into the kitchen to eat breakfast.

"We're all off today, which is pretty rare. We thought we'd go on a picnic across the street in Olympic Park. You could go with us, and then maybe after, I can help you cross some stuff off that list you were just telling us about."

I smile at his very kind offer, the thought of spending more time with him alone piquing my interest.

"That's so kind of you, yes. That sounds like fun."

He jumps up off the couch like a kangaroo, clapping his hands. "Ok! Would you like to take a shower? You can borrow some of my clothes, if you want? Here, come with me." He grabs my hand, leading me up a flight of stairs that lands in front of a hallway of doors, all bedrooms and a small recording studio, Chan informs me. I follow him to the very end of the hallway to a set of double doors that he opens one of, letting me inside. I step into the spacious room, scooting aside to let him through.

"Well, this is me." He says, biting his lip, looking a bit nervous.

I walk around, noting how organized everything is. He has everything he needs set out in perfect order, his bed still made from the previous day. There are a few modern light fixtures on the walls, with a picture frame here and there displaying his family and close friends. And a very cute picture of a cavalier king Charles spaniel, that Chan affectionately tells me is his dog, Berry. Chan crosses the room and flips the light on in his bathroom, gesturing for me to follow him. I step into the bathroom and he shows me where everything is, handing me a huge fluffy towel.

"While you're in there, I'll grab some clothes for you to choose from and set them on my bed, so when you come out you can get dressed. No rush, the guys take forever to eat."

He chuckles and his eyes light up, remembering something else.

"Oh, feel free to use whatever I've got in the shower. The body wash I use smells really good."

I remember the night before, just prior to passing out, getting a whiff of him. The scent was sweet and almost edible, and when I think about it now, totally fits him as a person. The thought of smelling like him thrills me and my cheeks flush.

"Thank you, really. I'll try not to take too long."

He nods, smiling, and steps back out of the bathroom, letting me close the door.

I walk around the bathroom, admiring the way he has everything organized, just like his bedroom. I turn the shower on and adjust the temperature, letting the water heat up. I take my clothes off, folding them into a neat pile on the bathroom counter. Stepping into the large shower, I notice that everything here is also hyper organized. I stand under the hot water, closing my eyes and sighing. A nice hot shower had a way of helping to melt away stress. I pick up Chan's body wash and pop it open, inhaling deeply. It smells like caramel and sandalwood, sweet and a bit earthy. I grab a washcloth and squirt some onto it, working it up into a lather. I start with my neck and shoulders, working my way down. As I scrub, I realize how tense I am. Stress and travel can really take a toll on a person. I rub my shoulders a bit, moaning at the feeling. My mind wanders and I can't help but wonder what Chan's hands would feel like on me. Rubbing my shoulders, my neck, my...oh. Oh no, we can't do that right now. I slide my hands down over my breasts, gently teasing my nipples. Ok, maybe just a little bit would be fine...a few minutes, that's it. I lean against the cool shower wall, my hands sliding down my stomach to my hips. I think about my gracious host, my savior and his endearing Australian accent, and those beautiful pouty lips. What would it be like to kiss him? My hand moves further south to the apex of my thighs as I imagine us in a very intimate embrace. Is he gentle? Maybe he has a bit of a dominant side. Eric had always been pretty boring when it came to physical intimacy, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't craved more. I needed something that thrilled me and made me gasp. And something about Chan made me think he'd do exactly that.

My index and middle fingers graze over my clit and I groan quietly, widening my legs a bit. I should not be doing this right now, but even that makes it more exciting. I close my eyes, imagining Chan on his knees in front of me in the shower, using his tongue to make me scream. I'd only read about it in my dark romance novels, and at 30 had never actually had anyone other than myself make me cum. I increase my pace, circling my clit as my fantasizing brings me closer to the edge. I'm panting now, trying to suppress my moans as I think about Chan taking me roughly against the shower wall. I think about him biting down on my neck and that does it – a loud whimper escapes my lips, louder than I had intended, as I cum in Chan's shower. I finish washing my body and hair as quickly as I can, trying to make up for lost time, and manage to finish up in just a few minutes. I get out of the shower, drying myself with the towel Chan had given me, and wrapping my hair up into another, smaller towel. I wrap the big towel around me and grab my stack of clothes and open the bathroom door.

The sight I'm met with when I open the door stops me in my tracks. Chan stands there, facing away from me, without a shirt on. He's laying clothes out on the bed for me, his back muscles flexing, making me want to do unspeakable things to him. My eyes travel down to the dimples on his back, and the way his black sweats are slung low over his hips. I let out a barely audible, small squeak and he whips around. We stare at each other in silence, our eyes wandering up and down each other's bodies for only a moment before he says something in Korean, averting his eyes.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I got distracted trying to pick out some clothes for you to choose from. Uh, let me put a shirt on." He pulls a black t-shirt on and turns back to me.

"I put a couple things out here," he gestures to the bed, "If it's not ok, just let me know and we can figure something out. You could probably borrow something from Hyunjin or one of the other guys." He smiles sheepishly as I approach the bed. There's a few t-shirts and some gym shorts, and a pair of sweats. I pick up the sweats and a black t-shirt and turn to him.

"Hey, if I put this on, we'll match." I say, before I realize how flirtatious it is.

And without hesitation, Chan responds with, "Oh, are we that kind of couple? That's cool with me. But the guys will absolutely give us shit about it." He grins, his ears turning bright red as he puts his hands on his hips. I chuckle nervously, my face turning hot. Flirting with a famous k-pop idol in his bedroom while I'm in nothing but a towel wasn't exactly on my bingo card, but here we are.

"Well, I guess that means I'm definitely going to have to wear them, then." I say, smiling at him. He blushes and looks down, a small smile on his face.

"I'll let you get dressed. No rush, the guys just finished eating and they all still need to get everything ready for the picnic in the park. Just come down whenever you're ready." He turns, his ears still red, and leaves the room, shutting the door.

I plunk down on the edge of his bed, leaning my head in my hands. What was that?

I get up and pull on the t-shirt and sweats, unwinding my hair from the towel. I walk back into the bathroom in search of a brush and when I come back out, Hyunjin is sitting on the bed.

"Oh! Hi."

"I was going to bring a sketchbook to the park...I could bring an extra, for you? And some pencils?" He runs a hand through his short hair, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. It's then that I realize that I am in such. Deep. Trouble. Hyunjin is just as captivating as Chan in a totally different way.

"Wow, yeah. I'd love that! How thoughtful."

His eyes light up and he grins, standing up. "Oh, here. I thought you might want to use it. I have a lot of them from when my hair was longer." He hands me a hair tie and I giggle, thanking him. He leaves, I assume to pack up the art supplies he'd mentioned, and I brush through my hair, tying it up into a bun on top of my head. I stand in front of Chan's mirror and sigh. I look homeless. But at least I'm clean.

I go back downstairs to the living room to discover an interesting type of organized chaos. Everyone is in various stages of readiness for the outing, and Chan is walking from room to room making sure everyone stays on task. Jeongin comes up to me, phone in hand.

"Noona...would you...sit with me in the park?" he smiles, a hopeful look on his face.

"Yeah, sure, of course." I smile at him and he grabs some of the things sitting on the couch, leaving the room with them.

Chan is in the kitchen, packing a large cooler full of stuff and I sit at the island, watching him. He pulls an armful of water bottles out and turns around, smiling at me.

I recall my little shower moment from earlier and blush.

"Hey, uh, what does 'Noona' mean?"

He sets the water in the cooler and goes back to the fridge for more. "Noona is a friendly term in Korean for older sister, or like, an older female friend." He glances at me, quickly looking away when he meets my eyes.

I nod. "Oh, ok. Jeongin just called me that and I wasn't sure. What are you putting in the cooler?"

He turns around and sets down an array of sandwiches, boxes of cold noodles, sushi, and chicken.

"Ooooohhh! I call the sushi. That one right there." I point to the largest box and Chan laughs loudly, shaking his head.

"You'll have to fight Hyunjin for it." He laughs, and Hyunjin walks into the kitchen, a backpack slung over one of his shoulders.

"Why am I fighting her? She's too cute." He winks at me, passing by to put his backpack by the door.

I blush hard, laughing nervously.

Chan also looks flustered but quickly recovers. "She claimed your ridiculously large box of sushi." Hyunjin laughs loudly, sitting on the stool next to me.

"That's ok, I'll share. We can eat while we sit under a tree and sketch. That's romantic, right, Chan?"

Chan rolls his eyes, chuckling. "Well, after you're done sketching with him, I wanted to show you some of the cool sculptures that are in the park. There's a thumb."

"A...thumb?"

Han and Minho join us in the kitchen and Han throws his arms around Hyunjin, resting his chin on Hyunjin's shoulder.

"My wife tells me that you're a teacher?"

I chuckle. "Oh, yeah. An elementary school art teacher. It's a lot of fun."

"Ah, it's good you're use to being around kids all the time. You'll fit right in with us, then." Han laughs, patting Hyunjin on the shoulder and going into the living room with Minho. Jeongin comes into the kitchen and sits on the other side of me, leaning over to show me something on his phone.

"Is that Tiktok?"

He nods, smiling. He hands me his phone and I scroll through video after video of them dancing, performing, and interacting with fans and each other. It becomes very obvious to me just how popular they are, and I idly wonder how I'd never heard of them before. I keep scrolling and come across a short video of Chan on stage by himself, the stage lights casting a red glow on him and the dancers. He sings a very sensual song, all in English, and ends the song by taking his shirt off and falling backwards off the stage. My eyes widen and I turn to Jeongin and he laughs.

He takes the phone from me and exclaims, "Wait, wait!" and types something into the search bar, selecting another short video. It's a clip of him on the stage by himself, singing and dancing to his solo, "Hallucination", complete with body rolls and sultry glances.

Hyunjin leans over on my other side, trying to see what we're watching. He pulls out his own phone, searching for something on YouTube and hands it to me. It's the music video for his solo, "So Good", and as I watch, he moves along with the dance moves, never leaving his seat next to me. Chan chuckles from the other side of the island, still packing up the cooler for our adventure.

"Hyunjin shows his tummy a lot in that video. Very sexy."

Minho walks back into the kitchen, lifting Hyunjin's shirt and laughing as Hyunjin swats him away, exclaiming something in Korean.

Chan closes the cooler and zips up the other bags he's packed, clapping his hands together.

"Alright guys, are we ready?"

Everyone appears in the kitchen, nodding and agreeing. Chan turns to me, a semi- serious expression on his face.

"When we go anywhere, even if it's just to the park across the street, at least two members of our staff have to be with us, for safety. If anyone asks, you're Jeongin's English tutor."

Jeongin grins, turning to me. "My idea." He says, proud of himself. I smile at him and nod, accepting my fake position among the group. We exit out the back entrance of the building and pile into two black SUV's. I'm the last one to jump into the second vehicle, seated next to Felix, with Jeongin on his other side, and Chan and Hyunjin opposite of us. I sit down and Felix turns to me.

"Here, let me."

He reaches across me, grabbing the seatbelt and pulling it down across my chest to click it in place. Our faces are maybe an inch apart, and he brushes a wayward strand of hair away from my face.

"How's that? Too tight?" He asks, holding my gaze.

"Nope, it's just fine." I manage to reply, very obviously flustered. The others take notice of my red face but make no comment. I start to wonder if this level of closeness is normal for them, or if they're just reacting to having a woman in their midst. Either way, I'll take it.

The ride to the park is brief, maybe five minutes in total. I stare out the window and wonder what the actual fuck I'm doing right now. I feel like I've been transported to another world where I'm a totally different person, living someone else's life. A mere twenty-four hours earlier, I was wandering around the city in a panic, and now I'm seated in an SUV with 4 of the most gorgeous men on this side of the planet, who have seemingly adopted me. I think about pinching myself but decide against it. If this is a dream, I'm seeing it to the end.

The SUV comes to a stop and everyone unbuckles, getting out. I go to unfasten my own seatbelt, reaching down, when my hand collides with Felix's.

"I've got it." He says, his voice barely above a whisper as he unbuckles me. I thank him and scoot across the seat towards the door. Chan holds his hand out to me and I take it, stepping out into the sunshine. Everyone seems delighted to be here together, carrying the various coolers and bags that Chan had packed up at the house. We find a nice shady spot underneath a small grove of trees with enough room for some of them to kick a ball around.

Hyunjin and Jeongin beckon me over to the grass at the foot of the tallest tree in the back, overlooking the rest of the group. Hyunjin lays out a big blanket on the ground while Jeongin props some pillows up against the tree. I sit, leaning against the tree, my stomach growling loud enough for both of them to hear.

"Your stomach wants my sushi already. We were supposed to sketch first, but it looks like I'll have to feed your impatient stomach myself. You can sketch while I feed you."

Hyunjin walks away to retrieve the food and Jeongin sits down next to me.

"Do you really need a tutor for English?" I ask him, and he hesitates for a minute, trying to find the words.

"Chan, Felix, and Han...they help me, and I study. I'm getting better."

"That's great. I can't imagine how hard it must be learning English when it's not your first language. It's hard enough to learn it when it is."

Jeongin smiles and nods, looking up as Hyunjin returns with food for all three of us. My stomach growls again and Hyunjin laughs loudly.

"Be patient, Emily's Stomach. Hyunjin-ah has the food." He says between bouts of laughter. He sits and hands me a brand-new sketchbook with brand new, sharpened pencils. I open it, not sure what to sketch. Hyunjin sits down directly in front of me and opens the large box of sushi, picking up the chopsticks he'd set aside. He picks up a piece of sushi and holds it out for me.

"What's the expression? 'Here comes the airplaaaaaaane! Aaaaahh!'" He says, making airplane noises.

I absolutely lose my shit laughing. I fall back and accidentally knock the piece of sushi out of his chopsticks and onto the blanket, causing him to fall over laughing.

"You laughed at my romance!"

I'm laughing so hard that my stomach hurts and tears are sliding down my face. I sit up, picking up the piece of sushi from the blanket.

"You made airplane noises at me! What did you expect me to do?!"

Hyunjin sits up, holding his stomach, still laughing.

"Ok, no more airplane noises. Just romance now. Here." He holds out another piece of sushi for me, his lips curled into a mischievous smile. I take the sushi from him, holding his gaze. I chew, savoring the taste and the moment. It dawns on me that I feel more in this moment than I ever did in five years with Eric. I take another piece from him, studying his features closely. His lips are full and pouty like Chan's, but the way he holds his face is different. He's so expressive. I pick up the sketchbook and one of the pencils and start sketching. Hyunjin continues to feed me, without a word, until he sees what I'm drawing.

"Are those my lips?" He asks, the chopsticks poised on another piece of sushi.

I smile at him, still chewing the last piece he fed me.

"Mhm. You have pretty lips."

He blushes hard, trying to hide how my compliment has affected him. He looks down at the sushi, carefully picking another piece to feed me. I ask him to put some wasabi on it and he obliges, gently popping it into my mouth.

"So, if the sushi is romantic, then would the wasabi make it...spicy romance?"

I nearly choke on the piece of sushi at his choice of words, laughing and coughing.

"Oh god, yeah, I think it would." I open a bottle of water and take a few sips, still laughing.

He sets the chopsticks down, looking at me with a smile as I laugh and cough, trying to regain my composure.

"Your laugh is pretty, like you. It lights up your eyes."

Oh yeah, big trouble. Super-duper, BIG trouble. I finally stop coughing enough to say something to him when Chan comes up to us, distracting me. He holds his hand out to me and I take it, standing. I brush myself off, smiling.

"Would you like to take a walk? There are some cool sculptures down the way over there."

"Oh yeah, sure. The thumb?"

Chan chuckles, nodding. "Yeah, the thumb."

We start to walk away and I look back to see Hyunjin looking like a sad puppy. I feel a twinge of guilt leaving him, giving him a small wave before I turn and give Chan my attention. We walk along the edge of a small pond, making small talk and looking at the sculptures on the other side of the water. His phone rings and he answers, stepping to the side to speak to the person on the other end. After a few moments, he hangs up and turns to me, a triumphant smile on his face.

"I have good news for you." He says with a grin.

"For me? What?"

"I got you a phone. One that actually works!"

I am dumbstruck. "Chan, that's...you didn't – "

He cuts me off, waving his hand. "I know I didn't have to, I wanted to. It's really no problem at all. You needed it. I got you a protective case for it, too."

I was with Eric for five years and he didn't ever buy me flowers, let alone something like this. I'm with these guys for not even a whole day and it's been basic princess treatment.

"Thank you, really. You've all been so nice to me. I don't even know how I can thank you."

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles at me. He takes my hands in his, looking down at me.

"You don't have to thank us. We're just being ourselves. And you deserve to be treated this way, we're just making up for the time you haven't been."

Tears well up in my eyes at his kind words and I look away as one breaks away, falling down my face. He cups my face in his hands, turning my gaze back to him. He brushes the tears away with his thumb, saying something in Korean under his breath.

"Would a hug be ok?"

I nod and sniffle, leaning into him. He wraps his arms around me tightly, rubbing my back. The gesture itself sparks more of an emotional response from me and I let out a small sob into his chest. He tips my chin up, concern etched on his face. He takes my hand and leads me to a nearby bench, sitting us down.

"What's wrong? Are my hugs that terrible?" He chuckles, patting my knee.

I laugh and sniffle, resting my hand on his. "No, not at all. It was just really nice to feel that comfort from someone that genuinely cares. I don't know why you care, but I can tell that you do."

His brow furrows and he takes my hands again. "You know, I often wonder the same thing about Stay. Our fans. They love us so much. The other guys? I understand that. But I can never understand why they love me. A lot of the time, I don't feel worthy of it."

I squeeze his hand, pulling it further onto my lap. "Look, I know we've only known each other for a day, but I can tell that you are such a kind, wonderful person. And if I can tell that, then I know for sure that your fans can too."

"That's really kind of you to say. I feel the same way about you, minus the fans, of course. Unless you have fans that I don't know about? Oh wait, your students! I bet they love you."

"They do, and I love them too. I miss them."

Chan stands and pulls me to my feet. "Come, let's keep walking."

We continue walking, making a big loop and eventually coming back to the picnic area where everyone else is. Hyunjin perks up from his spot against the tree as Chan and I come around the corner into view and I wave at him again. Jeongin and Felix run up to us, intent on showing me something. Jeongin grabs my hand, pulling me over to a bench and sitting me down. Felix puts on some music and they both start dancing, Hyunjin running over to join them. I don't know the song, or the dance, but Felix insists that I join them and pulls me to my feet moments later. They show me some of the moves and we do short little bursts of the dance, laughing and carrying on as Chan watches us from the bench. He has a crooked little grin on his face as he watches Jeongin trying to teach me more of the dance when one of the staff approaches him, pulling him away. Jeongin, Felix, Hyunjin and I keep dancing along to the song, the others laughing and occasionally joining us. Changbin comes over, showing us "how to do it correctly", mentioning something about how the guys aren't showing me how feminine the moves are supposed to be. He sits down next to me and shows me the music video, telling me how important it is to not make the moves masculine because it's disrespectful to the all-female group who created the choreography. I smile and nod, looking up to see Chan walking back over to us.

"Hey guys, it's time to go. Some of the staff noticed a small group of fans across the way trying to take pictures of us. Here, put this on." Chan hands me a black face mask and I put it on, standing up to help pack everything back up. Hyunjin comes over to me, holding the sketchbook I was drawing in earlier, tilting it so I can see the page. Next to the sketch of his lips is a sketch of mine, with tiny little hearts all round them. I take the sketchbook from him, admiring his work. I look up at him from behind my mask and point to the page.

"Romance?"

He grins and nods, laughing. "Yes, romance."

I hand the sketchbook back to him as we hold each other's gaze, our hands touching briefly at the exchange. I take his hand, turning it over in mine.

"You're so creative. I love the different types of rings you've chosen and the unique way your nails are painted."

He pulls one of the rings off his middle finger, a silver band with deep blue stones set all around it and slides it onto one of my fingers. "The blue, it's like your eyes."

I look down at the ring, turning it around my finger. I couldn't even guess how much this ring is worth, or what it means that he just put it on me. Our little intimate moment is interrupted by Han and Minho, coming over to ask us what our vote is for dinner tonight.

The three of them exchange words in Korean, arguing about what should be ordered once we arrive back at the house. I walk back over to Chan, who is folding up blankets.

"Hey, uh, weird question for you."

He looks up at me, curious, standing to put the blanket in his hands on top of a pile of others.

"What's up, you ok?"

"Oh, yeah, totally. I was just wondering if you had like, a little guide for learning Korean laying around your house somewhere? I need to buy one."

He looks around and then yells. "Oi, Felix! Come 'ere!" and Felix comes running.

"When we first got together, Felix was learning Korean. Oi bro, do you still have all of those Korean workbooks you were using during the show?"

"Yeah, they're in my closet at the house. Why?"

"Think you could dig them out for Emily when we get back?"

Felix grins. "So, our fake tutor needs a tutor?

Chan and I both laugh, and I nod, admitting my need. "Oh, it's way worse. I'm a complete noob. Unfortunately, I don't know even the basics."

Felix hooks his arm in mine and leads me away. "I'll make you a deal. You help me make dessert for everyone tonight, and all my Korean workbooks are yours to keep."

"Oh! That sounds like fun! What are we making?"

"Brownies. My special recipe."

"Oh, sounds secretive. Can I be the taste tester, too?"

"Of course. You'll get the first one after they come out of the oven."

Chan waves everyone over, having finished packing up everything. "Alright guys, everyone grab something so we can pack up and get back to the house. Was a decision made on dinner?"

Everyone shrugs, looking around at each other.

Chan sighs. "Looks like it's my decision, then. I'll order something when we get back to the house."

We pack everything up into the back of the SUV's and pile back in, ready to return to their building. I get in, Hyunjin getting in behind me and shutting the door. He fastens my seatbelt for me, leaning over me to click it in place. He smells heavenly – his cologne mixed with sweat from the heat of the day. I bite my lip and turn my head as he sits back down next to me, looking up to see Chan watching us. His lips are curled into a somewhat mischievous smile, his tongue pushing into his bottom lip. It's a look that I'm almost certain means that I'm in trouble, but I don't know why. All I do know is that it's hot and it makes me want to jump into his lap.

"Hyunjin, I don't think her seatbelt is clipped properly. Can you check it?"

Hyunjin gives Chan a look and leans back over me while Chan holds my gaze the entire time. I suddenly understand what he's doing. He saw my reaction to Hyunjin's scent a moment ago, and now he's letting me know he saw, and giving me another chance to smell him again. Again, I don't understand, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Hyunjin's scent wafts over me again as he checks my seatbelt. I bite my lip, looking into Chan's eyes, heat flooding my body.

"Her seatbelt is fine, Hyung." Hyunjin says, clicking his own seatbelt into place, sitting close enough to me that our thighs are touching. I look up at Chan and he's still looking directly into my eyes. He shifts in his seat and I realize why – he's adjusting his pants. I feel my pussy clench as the realization hits me, a deep ache forming between my legs that I've rarely felt before. As this is happening, Hyunjin puts his arm around my shoulders, tracing small circles on my arm. I look up at him and to my surprise, he's already looking at me. I look back at Chan quickly, who is still watching us with interest. He sits up, clearing his throat.

"You know, Em, I was thinking – we have an extra room at the house that no one uses. It has a bed and its own bathroom, too. If you want, you can stay with us for the rest of your time here. I'd be happy to send someone for your stuff. That way, you can save money, and you'd be right here to hang out with us if you wanted."

Hyunjin and the rest of the guys in the car perk up, all excited at the prospect of me staying at the house with them. Chan looks at me, his eyes full of hope and something else.

"Of course, that would be great. I'd love to spend more time with you all."

Everyone claps and rejoices, Hyunjin hugging me from the side. We laugh and talk the rest of the ride home, making plans for the rest of the week. Chan is mostly quiet, watching everyone talk with me about what they want us all to do, sharing their schedules with me. After a few minutes, we arrive back at the house and everyone exits the vehicles, me last. Chan is waiting for me right outside the car and I take his hand, stepping down.

"I'm happy you accepted my offer. I'll have someone go get your stuff right away and settle your hotel bill. Let's go inside so I can give you your new phone."

We walk slowly toward the house, and I genuinely feel like I'm living in a dream.

"Chan, I don't know how I can repay all this kindness."

He stops and takes my hand, looking down at me and smiling.

"Emily, it's not often that we get to spoil someone like this. Someone so deserving. I think I speak for all of us when I say that it's our pleasure. No need to feel like you have to pay us back. Your presence is more than enough. Besides, we share everything...and now we get to share with you."

He moves closer to me, his hand lightly caressing my arm. The way he's looking down at me suggests that part of my little fantasy from earlier is about to come true – a kiss from those beautiful, luscious lips. He tips my chin up and leans in, and just as I close my eyes, we're interrupted by Felix hollering at us from the kitchen door.

"Hey, stopping distracting her! We have brownies to make!"

Chan bites his lip and laughs, letting my chin go.

"Come on, let's go inside." He puts his hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the house where everyone is relaxing in the kitchen. Hyunjin gets up as we walk in, allowing me to take his seat at the island. Felix comes around the island, an apron already wrapped around his waist. He holds out another apron to me.

"Don't get comfy, Princess. I need your help over here."

I blush a bit at the pet name, getting up and wrapping the apron around me. Felix and I spend the next fifteen minutes mixing ingredients while he tells me about his early days of learning Korean. We get two large pans of brownie batter into the oven and I turn around to see Chan and Hyunjin deep in conversation on the other side of the island. I take my apron off and set it down, drawing their attention. They both look at each other, and then to me. They have the same look on their faces and there's only one way to describe it – hungry.

Chapter 3

I'm not used to being regarded in this way, and I blush hard when they both turn their gaze to me. I can't tell if they're mentally undressing me or if they want to devour me. To be honest, it might be both, and I don't mind. It's not lost on me that they both seem to be aware of their mutual affection for me, and I'm not sure how that'll work. Chan had mentioned something about how they always share...was this included in that sentiment? My head swims with different possibilities and scenarios, and all of them work out really well for me. Having one of them? Amazing. Having both? I couldn't even imagine. But something tells me I'll find out sooner rather than later. I chuckle to myself when I remember the thought I had yesterday about the possibility of having one of those "meet – cute" moments while I was here – this is way beyond that.

Felix comes around the island to Hyunjin and Chan, handing them both cutting boards with knives and buckets of strawberries.

"If you're going to keep distracting my Princess, here, then you're going to help."

They both grin mischievously, picking up their respective knives to start cutting up the strawberries. Hyunjin cuts a slice off one of them, holding it out to me. I open my mouth to accept it and he places it on my tongue, his thumb gently brushing against my lip. Chan does the same, depositing a strawberry slice into my mouth with a grin. I turn around to see what Felix wants me to do next, because if I don't, I'm afraid I'll jump across the island and attack them both.

"When the brownies are done, we'll take them out and you can cut them. Until then, let's go upstairs so I can dig those books out for you." He sets a timer on his phone and takes me by the hand, leading me out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the hallway of doors. His room is about halfway down the hall on the left. There are stickers of a cute cartoon baby chick on the door and I trace them with my finger, commenting on how cute they are.

"That's BbokAri, my SKZOO."

I look at him, wondering why he'd think I would know what that is. He laughs and opens the door. "Come in, I'll show you."

His room is bright, with lots of pictures and two large bookcases full of manga. I sit on the edge of his bed and he brings me a framed picture of him and the other guys all holding plushies of their personal SKZOO's. He points at each, telling me their names.

"We've got BbokAri, Dwaekki, Leebit, PuppyM, Han Quokka, FoxyI.Ny, Jiniret, and Wolf Chan."

I hold the picture, looking at each of them. "These are all so fitting. Is Hyunjin a...ferret?"

Felix laughs, nodding. "Yeah. Definitely fitting for him. Silly and cute. Here, you keep that. You can put it in your room when we get it set up tomorrow."

My room. Right next to Chan's.

Felix opens his closet, kneeling down to reach behind a trunk on the floor. I get up and walk over to his bookshelf, admiring all the manga he has.

"You have quite the collection, here. It's impressive." I hear him laughing from the closet, and he sits down, pulling a stack of books and papers out, setting them on the floor in front of him.

"Honestly, it's not all mine. The bottom two shelves are all Hyunjin's."

I sit down and pull a few off the shelves, looking them over. I feel Felix watching me and I look over to see him grinning at me.

"What's that look for?" I ask, laughing.

"You're aware that both him and Chan are like...crushing on you, right?"

I blush and my heart starts pounding in my chest at his observation. It wasn't exactly news to me, but it's nice to have someone else confirm my suspicions.

"Yeah, I kind of...got those vibes from both of them. I'm just not sure what to do."

Felix tilts his head to the side, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

I sigh, setting the manga down and getting up to sit on the bed. Felix gets up and joins me.

"I just...I like both of them, they're great. Really great. But I don't want to pursue something with one and upset the other, you know? I'd hate that. They're both so sweet."

Felix nods and smiles. "I don't think you really have to worry about that, Princess."

"What? Why?"

"All of us have been together as a group for quite some time. We're family. Some of us are even...more than that. I think if you wanted to be with both of them, neither of them would have a problem with it. But either way, I don't think they'd be upset, so don't waste your time worrying about it."

"Felix...I'm going to be honest, I'm not sure what to do with that information." I laugh, and he laughs along with me. The alarm goes off on his phone, letting us know that it's time to take the brownies out of the oven. We get up and he picks up the pile of books and papers, handing them to me.

"Sorry it's all such a mess. Here, let me show you your room and you can put it all in there until we get a chance to go through it."

He leads me out of his room and further down the hallway, stopping just short of Chan's room to a door on the right. He opens it for me and we go inside. There's an enormous bed and a beautiful hardwood desk, with a large bathroom and walk-in closet. My eyes widen and I look at Felix, who helps me put the stack of stuff in my arms on the desk.

"This is nicer than any room I've ever had. What little clothes I've brought will hardly make a dent in that closet."

I walk into the bathroom and flip the light on and gasp.

"Oh my god. A clawfoot bathtub? I must be dreaming." I walk over to it, touching the edge, kneeling next to it. "I'm definitely taking a bath in here tonight."

Felix chuckles, shaking his head. "C'mon, we gotta go take the brownies out of the oven."

I stand and follow him out of the room and back downstairs. Chan and Hyunjin are still seated at the island, but they've finished cutting the strawberries and now they're laying them out on wax paper and drizzling chocolate over them. Felix steals one off of Chan's side, running around to take the brownies out. He takes both pans out, setting them on top of the stove.

"Ok, now, after we eat dinner, they'll be cool and you can cut them."

Chan gasps and exclaims something in Korean, getting up from the island and running out of the room.

I look at Hyunjin. "Where's he going?"

He laughs, continuing to drizzle chocolate over the strawberries. "Oh, he forgot to order dinner."

I giggle and sit in Chan's seat, stealing a strawberry. "Mmm, this is delicious. What a good idea you two had." Hyunjin smiles and feeds me another, his hand lingering by my face. He brushes a bit of chocolate from my lip, licking his finger.

"Mmm, sweet."

Felix walks behind Hyunjin, wiggling his eyebrows at me and leaving the room.

"Did Yongbok get the books for you?"

"He did, yeah. I'll look through them later, maybe. I saw all your manga on his bookshelf, too. Oh! We went in the spare room by Chan's and I saw that beautiful bathtub."

He smiles, nodding. "That's going to be your room and bathtub. Tomorrow we will go shopping."

"Oh, is that so? Me and you?"

"Me and you and Chan-hyung."

Oh, perfect. A whole day for them to fluster the hell out of me.

Chan comes back into the room, looking relieved.

"Did you order dinner?" I ask him, chuckling.

"I did. It'll be here shortly. You stole my seat!" He pokes me in the side and I yelp, successfully giving away how ticklish I am.

They both look at me, their smiles twisted into devilish grins as I get up and back out of the kitchen into the living room. There's really nowhere for me to go that they wouldn't be able to catch me, so I walk backwards toward the stairs and turn, running up. I get to the top and bolt down the hallway, both of them not far behind me. I duck into my soon-to-be room and they follow me, closing the door. Uh-oh.

They slowly walk closer to me, their gazes changing from playful to hungry in a blink.

"You've cornered yourself, Babygirl." Chan purrs, approaching me from the front while Hyunjin circles behind me. Chan tips my chin up as Hyunjin closes in behind me, his hands gently holding my hips.

"I believe we have some unfinished business." He brushes the hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

"We do?" Of course we fucking do. That would-be kiss from earlier that got interrupted by my promise of brownie making. My mind races and my pulse quickens as he leans down to press his forehead against mine.

"You're so beautiful. Even in your teary-eyed panic last night, I knew you were special. I just didn't realize how quickly you'd capture our hearts. If you'd let us, we'd like to show you just how special this could be. You...with us, here."

Hyunjin rests his chin on my shoulder, his hands still on my hips.

"Chan-hyung is the best with the romantic words."

I giggle, looking back at him. "It seems like you're both pretty good at the romance." I look back at Chan, readying myself for this kiss. I run my hands over his chest and shoulders, admiring the way his muscles show through even though the shirt isn't fitted. He smells divine, that sweet earthiness wrapping around me, making me bite my lip as I look up at him. He leans closer and pulls my lip free from my teeth, finally closing the distance between us. At first it's a light brush of our lips together, tentative and gentle. I can tell he's holding back, not wanting to overwhelm me with his desire. I pull him closer, deepening the kiss, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. His lips are so soft and he lets out a little moan into my mouth as we make-out, Hyunjin observing us from his position behind me. Chan gently breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against mine again, panting as he grins at me.

"That was perfect, just like I thought it would be."

I nod, smiling up at him. He's right, of course. It was perfect. The most perfect kiss I'd had up to that moment. He turns me around to face Hyunjin and I realize what's happening immediately – I've had one kiss, and now it's time for another.

Hyunjin cups my face, looking into my eyes for a moment before leaning in to kiss my forehead. He trails short, sweet little kisses down my face to my neck, where they turn into lazy, open-mouthed kisses full of tongue. He loops his arm around my waist to hold me while he works on leaving a hickey just below my right ear. I lean back against Chan, who is watching us with interest. He holds my hips, keeping me still. My eyes are half-lidded in lust by the time Hyunjin decides the hickey is perfect. He brushes his thumb over it, admiring his handiwork. His lips are extra pouty and swollen from the effort, and I can't help myself. I pull his face to me, our lips crashing together as we press against Chan. It's hungry, and needy, and so perfect. He growls into the kiss, his grip on me tightening as Chan begins to leave kisses along my shoulder up to my neck. Very quickly I become aware that they're both enjoying this as much as I am, their mutual arousal pressing against me from both sides. We all start to lose ourselves, becoming a tangled mess of hands and kisses, pulling at each other, stumbling towards the bed. We fall onto it together, laughing. And, as fate would have it, Chan's phone buzzes. He ignores it and it buzzes again, and again. Frustrated, he pulls it out to investigate.

"Ah, the food's here." He props himself up on one elbow, looking at both of us. "Shall we continue this later?" They both help me sit up, adjusting their pants as we stand. They plant kisses on my cheeks, leading me out of the bedroom. We walk out into the hall and standing there, staring at us with grins on their faces, are the other six guys. Felix wiggles his eyebrows at me again and the others laugh, shaking their heads, walking back down the hallway towards the stairs. I look to Chan and Hyunjin, mildly confused because I was expecting some sort of comment from the others. They shrug, laughing, and lead me downstairs.

We arrive in the kitchen to discover Felix and Han unboxing the food, the smell making my stomach growl. Hyunjin laughs, having heard it, and pats my stomach.

"Don't worry, Emily's stomach, Hyunjin-ah will feed you again."

I laugh, sitting down at the island. "You know, I am capable of feeding myself."

"Sorry, I don't speak English." Hyunjin laughs, getting plates for both of us, starting to fill them up with spaghetti and garlic bread. Chan sits next to me, his eyes on mine. I smile at him, my cheeks flushing. He takes my hand, intertwining our fingers on his lap, squeezing it gently. Such a simple thing, but it has me emotionally on my knees for the man. I can tell he really does care, which still doesn't make a lot of sense to me, but I want nothing more than to be with both of them. Hyunjin comes around with our food, setting the plates down. He takes Chan's plate and goes to fill it up.

"Did Hyunjin tell you about our plans tomorrow?"

I nod and smile. "Yeah, he did. He said we're going to fix up my room?"

"I thought you'd like to pick out some bedding and things you need. Other things for the bedroom and the bathroom. The stuff from your hotel should be here soon, too."

"Thank you for doing that."

He waves his hand, smiling. "It's no problem at all, really. I'm happy to do it if it makes you more comfortable here with us."

On cue, there's a knock at the kitchen door. Chan reluctantly releases my hand and stands to answer it. On the other side is a member of their staff, holding my suitcase and purse. He hands them both to Chan, who thanks him, and shuts the door.

"Here we are, right on time." He sets my stuff in the living room, coming back to resume his position next to me at the island. Hyunjin comes back with Chan's plate and we all start eating. I go to take a bite of my spaghetti and hear Hyunjin clear his throat to get my attention. I turn to see him with a piece of spaghetti hanging out of his mouth. He picks up the loose end, holding it out to me. I laugh, leaning closer to him to accept it and we have our very own adorably romantic Disney moment, slurping the spaghetti until we inevitably kiss. We're giggling when I feel Chan caress my lower back and I turn around to see him holding a piece of garlic bread in his mouth for me to bite into. I burst out laughing and lean in to take a big bite, trying not to choke as I attempt to contain my laughter.

"We're going to be here all night if you two insist on eating the entire meal like this."

We spend the rest of the meal playfully feeding each other, laughing and talking with everyone else. It feels so easy, all of us being together like this. I expected there to be some tension after the other guys caught us coming out of my room earlier, but there isn't. Everyone is just happy to be together and I just feel overwhelmed with gratitude. Out of all the ways this could've gone, places I could've ended up – the universe saw fit to put me here with them. I twirl the last bit of spaghetti on my plate up into my fork, lost in thought. I finish my food and help gather all the dirty dishes, loading the dishwasher while Felix and Jeongin wipe down the island and the other two tables on the other side of the kitchen. Chan and Hyunjin stay seated at the island, unboxing my new phone, while the other guys gather in the living room to play video games.

"Alright, Princess, time to cut the brownies." Felix says with a grin, setting the two pans on the counter in front of me.

I take the knife from him, starting to divide the brownies into even squares. Felix leans closer to me, whispering.

"So, what happened up there?"

"Oh, I got to have two first kisses, back-to-back. Very scandalous. Very...exhilarating. If Chan's phone hadn't gone off when it did, you guys would've found us in a very compromising position, I think."

Felix's eyes widen and we finish cutting the brownies up in a fit of giggles.

"You know, I keep forgetting that you're not a Stay. Those two have done two music videos together. C'mon, I'll show you."

Felix drags me into the living room where the other guys are and we curl up on the smaller couch, where Felix shows me the music videos for "Red Lights" and "Escape".

"I have so many questions." I say, exasperated. I fan myself and Felix laughs loudly, nodding.

"You look like you need something to help cool down. Let's go take the strawberries out of the fridge." He gets up, pulling me along with him. Chan and Hyunjin are still busy fussing over my new phone and case, unaware that Felix has shown me a little glimpse into their professional lives. We pull the strawberries out, peeling them off the wax paper and piling them into two large bowls for everyone. Once we're done, I go out into the living room and tell the others that dessert is ready and they all come running into the kitchen. I take two strawberries, one in each hand, and wiggle myself between Chan and Hyunjin to feed them. They take the strawberries from me, making happy food noises, closing in on both sides to giving me little kisses in return for their sweet treats.

"Here's your phone, Babygirl. Hyunjin and I made sure it's all set and ready for you to use. If you have any questions, just ask one of us or Jeongin. He's pretty tech savvy."

I take the phone from him, turning it over in my hand. I unlock it to see the background set to a selfie of Chan and Hyunjin and I chuckle. "Thank you, again. This is so sweet. Probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me..." I trail off, the weight of what I said sinking in. It's true – it's the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me in a long, long time. My father always took care of me, but once I moved away from home it was difficult for him to do that as much. And now that he was gone, he wouldn't be able to at all. I'd never been able to depend on Eric for anything like this – he'd never even bought flowers for me the entire time we were together. Another red flag I had overlooked in the name of not being alone.

"Hey, what's wrong? You look so sad all of a sudden. Here, sit."

Chan gets up, helping me sit down in his spot.

"Tell us what's going on, let us help."

"I was just thinking about my dad and my ex. I miss my dad so much. He was my rock, even when we were living in different states. He would absolutely love seeing me here, so far away from everything I know. He was the ultimate adventurer."

Both Chan and Hyunjin listen intently as I recount some of my father's more recent adventures, stuff I only ever got to talk to him over the phone about. He'd always send me pictures when he went anywhere, and I'd always tell him that I was living vicariously through him. Maybe that's why, in the letter he left me, he told me to live my life. Well, Dad, here we are.

Hyunjin gets up and retrieves brownies for us, and I nibble on mine as I continue to vent to them about the life I've left behind.

"And you know? My dad was right about Eric. He always said he wasn't good enough for me. He tried to warn me but I just brushed it off as him being protective. There were so many red flags that I just chose to ignore and now look what's happened. The moment I leave the state he cheats on me. Well bitch, I hope she was worth it."

I jump off the stool and go over to the fridge, opening it.

"What are you looking for?"

"Oh, wine, beer, any kind of alcohol will do."

Chan gets up and walks up behind me, gently shutting the refrigerator door. He turns me around to face him.

"How about a hug instead?"

I frown and nod, leaning my head against him. He wraps his arms tightly around me, his face in my hair. Hyunjin jumps up and joins us, hugging me from behind. We stay like that for a few minutes until my anger and sadness have subsided.

"I just don't know what I did to deserve that, you know?"

Chan pulls away, his brow furrowed, frustration in his eyes. "You didn't deserve that at all. No one does. He's an idiot and a jerk, and I wish I could just..." He takes a second to calm himself. "...He doesn't deserve someone like you. You're so kind and sweet and beautiful, and you deserve the world. And we're going to make sure that you get it." Hyunjin comes around and kisses me on the forehead.

"Romance all the time." His eyes light up and he looks at Chan, exclaiming something in Korean, talking excitedly, and Chan laughs, nodding, and appearing to agree with whatever Hyunjin is saying.

"What? What am I missing?"

"Hyunjin wants us to take you out on a date tomorrow evening. All three of us together." He smiles and says something else to Hyunjin in Korean, and Hyunjin pulls his phone out, sitting back down at the island, looking like a man on a mission.

"That sounds great. What's he doing?"

"He's making a reservation at our favorite sushi place for tomorrow after we're done shopping. Oh, that reminds me, did you want to borrow more clothes tomorrow? Or do you have some stuff in your suitcase...orrrrrrr can I buy you some? Maybe? We can go anywhere you want tomorrow, Babygirl. Anywhere. Hyunjin-ah and I will take you. Just say the word."

Hyunjin yells at Chan from his seat at the island, talking excitedly.

"Hyunjin says he wants to take you to that craft store that's around the corner, too. Something about a sketching desk and art supplies for your room."

My eyes widen and I turn to Hyunjin, who is grinning to himself, looking up at us occasionally.

"Where do you get that body wash that's in your shower? Can we go there?"

Chan grins like he knows my little secret. But there's no way he could possibly, unless...

"Oh, that? I get that from Lush. We can go there...but you're more than welcome to use my shower again until we get your bathroom set up...It smells good, doesn't it? One might say it smells almost...orgasmic."

Oh god, he knows.

I look up at him and the look I'm met with tells me everything I need to know. He leans down and captures my lips in a fierce kiss, holding me tightly to him. This is different than the first time – it's need. This was a collision of everything in the last twenty-four hours coming together in lips and hands. He pushes me up against the fridge, one hand tangled in my hair and the other sliding down to grip my ass. He pulls me away from the fridge and picks me up, walking over to Hyunjin who stands up quickly when he sees us approaching. Chan hands me to him bridal style, whispering something in his ear. Hyunjin nods and carries me out of the kitchen, through the living room, and up the stairs.

"What did he tell you?"

"He said to take you to his room and wait for him there. He'll be joining us soon."

We get to the hallway and he carries me to Chan's room, nudging the door open with his butt. He carries me over to the bed, gently setting me down and getting on the bed next to me. He pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my hair. He inhales deeply, sighing.

"You smell like Chan-hyung."

I chuckle. "Yeah, he let me use his shower this morning. I used his shampoo and bodywash."

His lips find my neck, and the hickey he left on me earlier. He licks and sucks on the same spot, his breath hot. I slide a hand up his shirt, caressing his abs and hips. He growls against my neck, trailing kisses down to my shoulder.

"Mmm, this shirt is in my way. I want more of your skin."

He slides down to my hips and inches my shirt up over my navel, kissing my hips and stomach. Chan comes into the room, holding a small bowl, with a big grin on his face.

"Getting started without me, I see."

Hyunjin props himself up on one elbow, smiling innocently.

Chan gets on the bed with the bowl and motions for me to sit up. I oblige, scooting closer to him, and he feeds me a chocolate covered strawberry from the bowl.

Chan clears his throat and I look up, noticing that he seems nervous. But why, I'm not sure.

"Is everything ok?" I ask, eating another strawberry.

"So, by now I'm sure that you've figured out how we feel about you. But I want to clarify our intentions so there are no misunderstandings or uncomfortable feelings."

"Ok, that makes sense. You have my undivided attention."

"First, I'd like to ask a question. Are you comfortable being with both of us? I realized that we kind of sprung it on you earlier, and I just want to make sure that it's what you want. Because it's definitely what we want."

My face goes hot and a giggle slips out. This man is the most considerate and thoughtful person on the earth. And he's so nervous...like I'd actually say no?

"Oh, it's absolutely what I want. This is kind of crazy, right? But I've never been so sure of anything in my whole life. I want to be with both of you."

They both grin, scooting closer to me. "And uh, just to clarify...we don't mean just physically. We want to share our lives with you. There's no rush for the physical stuff...even though I'm sure we're all feeling kind of...excited."

"That's one way to put it, yeah." I laugh, looking at them both. "But while we're on the subject...how would we, uh, well – would it be like a threesome every time?"

They both laugh loudly and I genuinely wonder what is so damn funny. That was a serious question!

"It doesn't have to be, no. We can just...decide in the moment, if all three of us are together." Chan smiles, squeezing my thigh.

"Ok, yeah, that sounds good. Oh, um, also – I've never had a threesome. So."

Chan and Hyunjin exchange a look and then look back at me. The vibe in the room shifts and they scoot closer, still. Hyunjin caresses the small of my back, leaning his chin on my shoulder. "It'll be a first. Something we can experience together."

Chan kisses up my shoulder on the other side, whispering in my ear. "We can do whatever you want, Babygirl. Just tell us and we'll make it happen."

"Well...I've never... No one's ever...No one has ever made me cum before. I've just done it by myself."

They both look at me, their mouths agape.

"What...how? I don't understand. Your ex never...?"

I laugh loudly.

"Hell no. No. He was suuuuuper selfish. If I wanted to get off, I was on my own."

Hyunjin grips my shoulders, gently turning me towards him.

"Would you...let us? Chan-hyung and I...we don't have to have sex tonight if you don't want to but let us worship you. Tonight will be just be about you. We'll make you cum as many times as you want, and then I'll carry you into the bathroom and draw a bath for you. Then, if you want, we can watch a movie in bed and snuggle. How does that sound?"

They both look at me with puppy eyes, and I nod. Chan jumps off the bed and shuts the door, locking it. Hyunjin stands and takes his shirt off, revealing a lean, toned body. Chan takes his shirt off as well, a sight I was briefly blessed with this morning. This is definitely going to be a long night.

I lean back against Chan's pillows and they settle on either side of me, their hands wandering up and down my body. Chan leans in, whispering again.

"Is it ok if we take your clothes off, Babygirl?"

I nod and they hook their thumbs inside the sweats I'm wearing and peel them off me, leaving me in my panties and Chan's t-shirt. They rub my legs from ankle to hip, caressing each dip and curve, tracing the tattoos on my thighs. Hyunjin sits me up a bit, pulling the shirt off me, revealing my lacy bra and intricate ribcage tattoo. He leans down, tracing the lines, kissing the flowers and hearts within.

"I've always wanted tattoos. They look so pretty on you, Jagiya. Artwork all over you."

I reach in front of me and unhook my bra from the front, letting it fall away. Chan pulls it off me, dropping it on the floor. They both take a moment to visually appreciate me before laying back down by my sides, kissing and licking their way up my stomach to my chest. Hyunjin takes one of my nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, while Chan leaves little bites all over. My stomach, hips, chest, up to my collarbone and neck. He nibbles on my ear, his breath ghosting over me. His hand trails back down to my hips, playing with the edge of my panties. I can tell he's eager to dip inside, his fingers tracing the hem of the lace.

I look over at him, his pouty lips swollen from nibbling on me.

"It's ok, go ahead."

"Are you sure? I just want you to be comfortable."

"I'm very comfortable. Please..."

He leans closer, capturing my lips in a messy kiss. His tongue invades my mouth, flicking against my own as he starts to rub me over my panties. I let out a needy moan into his mouth, causing Hyunjin to growl around my nipple. He switches sides, taking my other nipple into his mouth. Chan breaks the kiss, panting.

"You're so wet already...can I..."

I nod eagerly, and he dips his hand underneath, quickly finding my clit and rubbing in tight circles. He stops for a moment and grabs Hyunjin's hand, guiding it over to feel me. He reaches inside and gently caresses me, just enough to feel how wet I am. He brings his fingers up to his mouth to taste me and moans.

"I think it's time for these to come off."

Chan pulls my undies down, tossing them. They both exchange a look, a silent conversation passing between them. Chan moves up while Hyunjin settles between my legs. It seems he's won the invisible coin toss. Chan settles down by my side, his hand grazing over my nipples while he whispers dirty, nasty things in my ear. Hyunjin looks up at me through his lashes, his arms wrapped around my thighs.

"Are you ready, my love?"

I reach down and caress his face, nodding. He grins, dipping below to lick and kiss my inner thighs, inching up towards my core. I'm literally aching for him at this point, and Chan is only making it worse.

"Tell me, Babygirl, did you enjoy your shower this morning?"

Oh hell, here we go.

"Here I was, going through my closet trying to find some clothes for you to choose from, when I heard the most curious noises coming from the bathroom. What were you doing in there?"

"Oh, I was just...washing...my body."

"Oh yeah? Is that it?"

"...maybe."

"Maybe? Tell me."

"Maybe I got distracted."

"It definitely sounded like you did. Why don't you tell me what you were thinking about while you were 'distracted'."

"...You."

"Me? Oh. What about me?"

Hyunjin licks a stripe from my entrance up to my clit, swirling his tongue around, circling over and over. My eyes roll back in my head and I gasp as he flicks his tongue over me quickly, going back and forth. Chan is in my ear, insistent that I divulge my little secret, but all the blood has left my brain.

"Was it my...hands?" He toys with my nipples some more, massaging my breasts.

"Or, maybe it was my mouth." He turns my face towards him, kissing me deeply.

"Maybe it was something else entirely..." He grabs my hand, pressing it against the rather large bulge in his pants, and grinds into it so I can feel how hard he is. I moan, gripping him over his pants as Hyunjin brings me closer and closer to the edge.

"Tell me, Baby. Tell me so I can make it come true."

"Oh god, fuck – uh, your mouth – and, uh – your cock –"

"Mmm...you naughty little thing. Don't worry, you'll get both. As much and as often as you want. We can stay in bed all day and I'll be your sex slave."

Hyunjin lifts one of my thighs up, pushing his tongue into me, greedily lapping at me. He's moaning into me – a low, needy sound that only serves to turn me on more. I'm right on the edge when he moves back up to my clit, flicking his tongue over it gently.

I'm sure that the noises that leave my mouth aren't human. My hips are bucking off the bed as Hyunjin tries to maintain his grip around my thighs. He pulls me closer as I cum, sucking my clit into his mouth and lapping up my juices. He unwraps his arms from my thighs, sitting up a bit so I can see his face – his very wet face. He grins and makes his way up to me, capturing my lips in a deep, messy kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue and he grabs my hand, pressing it against his hardness.

"You did so well. Look what you do to me."

Chan presses against me from behind, whispering.

"Tell us what you want now, Babygirl. We're at your beck and call."

I turn around to face him, feeling him over his pants. He groans, his eyes fluttering closed. I reach my hand into his sweats and grip him over his boxers. He shudders, bucking into my hand a bit.

"We don't have to if you don't want to. I don't want you to feel like we have to have sex right now." He says, panting, looking at me with concern in his eyes.

I roll him onto his back and climb on top of him, straddling his hips.

"I need you."

He groans, holding my hips and grinding up against me as his head falls back onto the pillows. Hyunjin settles himself next to Chan, getting comfortable.

"There she is. You're a feisty little thing, aren't you? You look like you're going to destroy Chan-hyung." Hyunjin say, biting his lip. "And I'm going to watch. Then after, I'll make you fall apart again." Hyunjin leans over and reaches into Chan's night stand for a moment and then hands me a condom.

"No little babies just yet." He says, winking at me.

I set it on the bed next to us and I scoot down, pulling his sweats and boxers down in one swift motion. His hard length springs free, and it's impressive. Bigger than anyone I've ever seen in real life. I grip him gently, pumping him a bit before I lean down and take him into my mouth, sucking hard. He inhales sharply, letting out a sweet little moan. Why is a man moaning the sexiest thing ever? It spurs me on and I begin to earnestly fuck him with my mouth while Hyunjin watches. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him unbutton and unzip to pull his own impressive length out, standing at attention against his stomach. He starts to touch himself while I give Chan the most enthusiastic head I've ever given.

Chan caresses my face and I look up at him and he beckons me up to him. I stop and he grabs the condom, gently ripping it open and rolling it on. He smiles at me and it's silly and goofy, like a kid in a candy store. I giggle at him, straddling him once more, hovering over his aching cock. I grip him, positioning him at my entrance, taking a deep breath. This is going to be a stretch.

Very slowly, I start to push myself down onto him. All three of us moan as I seat myself fully on his length. I feel so full of him and the stretch is exquisite, close to the point of pain, but not tipping over that edge. He sits up, wrapping his arms around me as he gently starts to move. We rock together, getting use to the feeling of being together like this. He leaves little kisses all over my neck and shoulders as his pace begins to quicken. He hugs me tight and flips us over so I'm under him.

"Hang on baby, I'm going to be a bit rougher. Tell me if it's too much."

He puts both of my legs on his shoulders and urgently pushes back inside me, leaning forward. The stretch is even more intense and he hits deeper in this position, the angle making me feel things I've never felt. He rolls his hips into me and I grip the sheets, moaning loudly.

"Oh god, Chan – I, I feel...something..."

"What? Does it hurt? Do you need me to stop?"

"Fuck, no, don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Ok, I won't stop. What are you feeling, then?"

"Like I need to – oh, this is embarrassing."

"Like you need to pee?"

"...Yeah."

"Let it go."

"What?! I'm not peeing on you!"

"You won't, trust me. I'm going to keep myself at this angle, and when it feels super intense, let go. I promise it's not pee."

He picks up the pace but stays at the same angle, pounding into me. I'm about to fucking pee on this man who just saved me twenty-four hours ago. It's intense and it feels...well, not bad exactly, but full.

"Let go, Babygirl. I can feel that tight little pussy clenching around me. I'm not going to stop until you cum again. Come on, let go."

He adjusts his angle ever so slightly, grabbing my hips and fucking the hell out of me. I can't hold it back any longer and I let go – and to my surprise (and relief), I don't piss all over him. But I do squirt all over us and the bed, effectively creating our own little puddle. They both gasp at the sight, Chan's pace never faltering. He lets my legs down and I settle into the puddle I've just made as he pulls me into a fiery kiss. He thrusts a few more times before arriving at his own conclusion, spilling into the condom with a satisfied groan. He leans his forehead against mine, panting, as we both catch our breath.

"See? I told you that you weren't going to pee on me."

"I might as well have. We're laying in a puddle that I created."

Hyunjin scoots over to us, caressing my side. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen, Jagiya." He nips at my neck, kissing my cheek. "I want to try."

I laugh breathlessly, still panting slightly. I kiss him. "Give me a few minutes first, ok?"

He kisses me back and cuddles closer to us. "Of course. That must've been intense for you. Would you like to take your bath now?"

My eyes light up and I nod. Hyunjin scoops me out of the bed and out of the puddle, carrying me towards the bathroom. I look over his shoulder to see Chan pulling the condom off, dropping it in the trash. I should probably tell them that I'm on birth control and can't get pregnant anyway. Another conversation for another time, perhaps. Right now, it's bath time.

Hyunjin sets me on the edge of Chan's tub and turns the water on, adjusting the temperature so it's just right.

"Bubbles?"

"Oh, no. Not a bubbles person. Just nice, hot water."

The tub fills up and he shuts the water off, helping me in. I sink into the water up to my chin, sighing. Perfect. I look up at him and he looks like a lost puppy.

"Are you going to get in here with me, or what?"

He grins and pulls off his boxers, still half hard, and slides into the tub behind me. I lean back against him while he massages my hips and thighs under the water. We don't talk, we just enjoy being together. Phew, what a day. Chan walks in, still naked, also half hard.

"Is there room in there for one more?"

I laugh. "Luckily for you, this is the biggest bathtub ever. Get in."

Chan carefully gets in and sits on the other side, facing us. He wets his hair with his hands, raking his fingers through it and I can't help but admire him. He's like a work of art. They're both so hot it's actually unfair. Well, it would be if they weren't both so enamored with me.

"You look tired, Babygirl."

I close my eyes and pretend to snore until Hyunjin grips my thighs under the water, my fake snore turning into a moan.

He chuckles, kissing my neck. "Oh, I think she wants more."

I feel him hardening against my back and my pussy clenches. I'm sore, I know I need to rest but my body reacts to them like it doesn't care. He moves my thighs apart, continuing to massage them, inching inwards towards my core.

"Do you want me to make you cum again? I'll be gentle."

I nod, still leaning against him. He moves my thighs even further apart and slides one hand in between them to rub my clit. He rubs tight circles around me, the water sloshing around us. The water heightens the sensation and my thighs tremble. He growls and sucks another mark onto my neck, quickly standing up. He lifts me out of the tub, setting me on my feet on the mat in front of it. He grabs a towel and dries me off, lifting me up and setting me on the edge of the counter. He kneels, looking up at me with a mischievous grin. I gasp as he leans forward, sucking on my pussy. I quickly brace myself on the counter, avoiding falling into the sink as he devours me like a man starved. Like he didn't just do this half an hour ago. My thighs shake and he pushes two fingers into me, curling them up to hit my g-spot. I feel that feeling again – and I know what he's after. He wants me to squirt again, but this time – all over him and that beautiful face. I whimper, moaning loudly, unable to hold it back. His tongue and fingers move together and I explode, screaming and sobbing as I squirt all over his face, the counter, and the floor. He stands up, helping me off the counter. He keeps and arm wrapped around my waist to support me, since my legs are officially jelly. Chan gets out of the tub, having observed everything, his cock at full attention again. He drains the tub and turns the shower on, helping Hyunjin with me. Hyunjin stands under one of the shower heads and Chan supports me under the other one. I lean against him as the water cascades over us and my mind drifts to my fantasy this morning. His hands roam all over, squeezing and massaging.

"While you were thinking about my mouth and my cock in the shower this morning, did you have a specific scenario in mind? Were we...here, in the shower? Let me make it come true."

I turn around to face him and look up into those pretty brown eyes, his hair a mess of wet curls. I steel myself, my hands on his chest, and boldly ask for what I want, for probably the first time ever.

Chapter 4

Chan looks down at me expectantly and I take a deep breath. Why was asking for what I want always so hard? I'm sure my therapist would probably say it's because I think I don't deserve anything nice. And this? This would be so nice.

"I want to turn around and lean against this shower wall, and then I want you to fuck me up against it. Hard."

He bites his lip, desire and concern mixing across his face. "Babygirl, aren't you sore? I don't want to hurt you. If I...If I do..." He trails off, looking down.

"Oh, honey. We can wait, or we can go slow. I promise if it's too much I'll tell you. I promise."

He nods, leaning his forehead against mine. I kiss him and it quickly turns hot and he spins me around and presses me into the shower wall. I turn my head, my cheek pressed into the cool tile. Hyunjin watches us from the other side of the shower, washing his hair and face, his arousal apparent.

Chan presses against me, growling in my ear.

"Stay right here, just like this. Don't move. I have to go grab a condom from the bedroom."

He turns to step out of the shower and I grab his arm, stopping him.

"What's wrong?"

"You don't need to. I didn't mention it earlier because we were in the moment, but I'm on birth control and I can't get pregnant anyway..."

Both of their expressions change instantly, concern clouding their features as Chan steps back into the shower to gently turn me around to face him.

Fuck. Moment officially ruined.

"What do you mean you 'can't get pregnant'? What's going on?"

"Nothing happened, I just have PCOS. My cycles and hormones are all fucked up and conceiving would be close to impossible. I'm on birth control to stop my periods because they're so painful."

They both close in on me, rubbing my back and arms. The rest of the shower is silent, both of them washing my hair and body, rinsing me off. Hyunjin pulls me out while Chan finishes washing himself up. He wraps my hair in a towel and dries the rest of my body. He ushers me back into Chan's bedroom, pulling an oversized shirt out from the closet, helping me into it. I hesitate, unsure if I should say more. I can feel their unease, the quiet weight of my confession settling between us.

Hyunjin carefully unwraps my hair from the towel, drying it further. His fingers are soft as they work through the damp strands, drying it with a tenderness that feels almost intimate. Chan comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, looking delicious. I make no effort to hide my smirk, letting my eyes trail down him, appreciating every inch of him as he walks towards me. He smirks back at me, coming to the bed to sit next to me. His concern still lingers, but there's something else in his gaze—a quiet determination that only deepens my curiosity about what's going through his mind. I'm still trying to figure it out when Hyunjin sits on the other side of me, the same look on his face.

"I just... I thought it was important. I didn't mean to... ruin everything. I just wanted to share, but now I'm wondering if I've made it worse."

They both gasp, then immediately shush me, their hands reaching out to pull me closer, their presence soothing as they gently close the space between us.

"Babygirl, you didn't ruin anything. We're still having a lovely night. Though, I think I can speak for both of us when I say that what you told us is worrying. We just want you to be happy and healthy. I'm glad you told us, so we can take care of you. Can you tell us more about the PCOS and how it affects you?"

They look at me with all the concern in the world, waiting for me to open up, but I'm stunned into silence, the weight of their worry making my words catch in my throat. Chan gets up off the bed and goes over to his closet, pulling out some boxers and pulling them on. Hyunjin pulls on his shorts from earlier and they pull me further onto the bed, sandwiching me between them. Chan pulls the sheet up over all of us and drapes his arm over me.

"You don't have to tell us now. We're here for you whenever you're ready. For now, let's get some rest. We've got a fun day ahead tomorrow."

They both kiss me, Hyunjin whispering soft words in Korean that I don't understand, but the sweetness in his tone makes my heart swell. I know it's a promise to take care of me, even if I can't translate the words. They squeeze me and we fall asleep in each other's arms, the day finally coming to an end.

***

I wake the next morning to the sound of Chan's snoring in my ear and one of Hyunjin's arms flung across my face, warm and heavy. For a moment, I just lie there, savoring the closeness, not wanting to disturb either of them. I gently move his arm off me and he doesn't budge at all. I slide out from between them, making a trip to Chan's bathroom to pee, and then sneaking out to my new bedroom. It's still early, the light just barely filtering in through the curtains. I pull them back to let in more light and illuminate the rest of the room. The room, bed, closet, and bathroom are all huge. I walk around, trying to make it feel more real, but it just doesn't. I know we're going shopping today for this room, and I'm clueless as to what to pick out. I only hope once we get to a store I'll be able to figure it out.

I sneak back into Chan's room and both of them are still asleep, Chan snoring away. I wiggle myself back in between them, Chan grunting and turning towards the window. Hyunjin grumbles and turns onto his side, facing me. I start thinking about last night and realize that this sweet dumpling did nothing but pleasure me, with no thought of satisfying himself. I lightly trace his jaw down his neck to his shoulders and chest. A feather-light touch, careful not to wake him. I get down to his abs, looking further down to discover his morning wood. Well, well. I fiddle with the waistband of his shorts, wondering if I should go further while he's still sleeping. My fingers brush against him through the fabric, and nothing happens. He doesn't stir. But when I gently wrap my hand around him, pumping him just a little, he lets out a soft moan, barely a whisper. I continue, growing bolder, my fingers slipping under the waistband of his shorts to make contact with his bare skin. His moan deepens, the sound so soft yet so inviting. My lips find their way to his chest, kissing and licking the warm, smooth skin, as my touch becomes more insistent. I feel the tension between us grow, and the heat building in my own body becomes too much to ignore. I'm in the middle of leaving a hickey on his chest when his eyes flutter open, looking down at me.

"Ready for breakfast, hmm? Turn around and scoot back against me."

I flip around and wiggle my butt back up against him. He moves my shirt out of the way and pulls his hard length out of his shorts. I lift my leg, scooting back even further to let him know that I want, no, need him right this second. He chuckles and mumbles something about me being impatient, teasing my entrance with the head of his cock. He rubs the tip all over my clit and pussy, teasing me. I lean my head back against him and whine, reaching back to grip his hip. He positions himself at my entrance, pushing just the head in. He pumps it in and out slowly, torturing me.

"Please, more. Please – "

He thrusts into me, completely sheathing himself inside me in one movement. We both gasp and he holds still, giving us a chance to adjust. He pulls all the way out, and gripping my hip, thrusts inside me again, burying himself to the hilt. He wraps himself around me, biting down on my shoulder, one hand rubbing my clit, and starts to fuck me mercilessly. He rubs my clit in time with his thrusts and I know this isn't going to last long. I moan loudly, whimpering as he drives me quickly to the edge.

"You're so loud, Jagiya. Does it feel good? Your pretty little pussy feels like heaven around me. I'm glad you're so needy this morning, taking my body for yourself. I'm yours whenever you want."

Chan rolls over toward us, yawning.

"You guys are so loud." He says, his accent especially thick this morning. I laugh, making a quick prayer to the universe to always have my mornings be like this – one of them inside me, and the other nearby for hilarious play-by-play.

He rolls toward us, landing directly in front of me to kiss my nose.

"Good morning, my Babygirl. You seem to be enjoying yourself."

He glances down to where Hyunjin and I are joined and then reaches toward me to replace Hyunjin's hand with his own to rub my clit.

"There we go, now it's a group effort."

His hard length strains against his boxers, demanding to be set free. I free him and he breathes a sigh of relief as my hands begin to work him while Hyunjin fucks me into oblivion.

"We could make this our morning routine – orgasms, then breakfast. Ah, fuck, that feels so good –"

Chan sucks in a sharp breath as I spit in my hands, lubing him up adequately. I do my best, given that my hands can barely wrap all the way around him, and he bucks wildly into my grip. My pussy clenches around Hyunjin and I whimper as they both start to kiss and bite my shoulders and neck. Hyunjin grips my hip, pounding into me, and I teeter right on the edge.

"I'm gonna cum, Jagi – hold on –"

Hyunjin thrusts into me a few more times and then lets out a loud, feral moan into the nape of my neck, releasing into me. He slows down, panting, his thrusts becoming short and shallow. He leaves sweet little kisses all over my shoulder and neck, telling me what a good girl I am, when Chan snatches me off of him.

He rolls onto his back, taking me with him, setting me on his lap. He looks up at me, his eyes full of wanton need. He doesn't say anything but I know what he wants and I nod, silently answering his question. He lifts me, lining me up with him, bringing me down onto his aching cock gently. I let out a breathy moan, my own orgasm still just moments away. Chan holds onto my hips for dear life as he fucks up into me and I close my eyes, reveling in the feeling of him being inside me.

"You look so beautiful like this...like a sleepy, sexy goddess. So full of me. So perfect."

Strands of light peek through the curtains, illuminating the bed and us as we move together. All I can hear is our labored breathing and skin on skin as I take over and bounce on his lap, my own orgasm almost forgotten as I slip into a trance-like state. All that matters is this moment with them, orgasm or not.

Hyunjin rolls over, propping himself up on his elbow to watch us. He bites his lip, his eyes roaming over both of our bodies as I continue to ride Chan's cock. He scoots closer to us until he's pressed against Chan, his eyes locked with mine. He traces Chan's abs ever so lightly, a touch that suggests something I hadn't yet considered. I look down to see Chan's eyes closed, his bottom lip quivering. I hold Hyunjin's gaze and give him a mischievous look, motioning for him to touch Chan's neck. Hyunjin leans down and licks a stripe from Chan's shoulder up to his ear, and the response we get is explosive. Chan moans loudly, gripping my hips so tightly it's almost bruising. I can feel him getting even harder inside me as he takes back over and thrusts into me roughly. His eyes snap open to see both Hyunjin and I looking back at him like a couple of cheshire cats, grins wide.

"Oh, you two are going to be trouble together, I see."

I giggle and Chan flips us over, pressing me into the mattress.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you, you little temptress? Mmm."

He growls under his breath as he pushes back into me, lifting my hips up off the bed. He's so thick, the stretch feels exquisite, and I whimper at every thrust. He's right on my g-spot at this angle, and he knows it.

"Are you ready to soak the bed again, Babygirl?"

All I can do is squeak. His hips twitch. Just a slight shift in angle—and my body loses control. There's that feeling again. That feeling I want to resist but am powerless to. He already knows my body so well in just a short amount of time – better than I do at this point. He reaches under me to rub my clit and that sends me spiraling off the edge. I let out a feral sound, somewhere between a scream and whimper as I cum all over him and the bed. He slows but doesn't stop - moving his hand to caress my hip.

"Good fucking girl. You did such a good job."

He leans forward, pushing all the way into me as he begins to chase his own release. His thrusts are strong and deep, and I can tell he's right there.

"Come in me, please, Chan –" I whimper, looking back at him. He grins like I've just asked him to be mine forever. Eyes full of vulnerability and desperation, he loses it. He groans loudly, a needy surrender that hangs in the air as he releases into me.

***

Half an hour later, all three of us make our way downstairs. The house is alive with the laughter and noise from the other guys, and it smells like IHOP. I've decided to be casual and wear another one of Chan's shirts and Hyunjin's shorts for our shopping trip today. My hair is tied up in a bun, per the usual, and my cheeks have a nice, rosy pink tint to them. No makeup needed. Just sex. Lots of mind-altering sex.

We walk into the kitchen, both Chan and Hyunjin looking devastating with their bare chests and sweatpants. Chan's hair is curly and messy. Hyunjin's skin is glowing. Is this real life? I don't even care at this point. I'm dreamily staring at both of them when Felix turns around, spatula in hand, and clocks the situation immediately.

"Well, well. Look who's emerged from the sex dungeon."

Chan freezes, clearing his throat.

"It...wasn't a dungeon. It was...a room, with pillows. And blankets."

Hyunjin snorts, laughing loudly and Chan shoots him a death glare.

I look between all three of them, trying to decide if this is hilarious or if I should disintegrate into the floor. Felix looks at me, barely holding in his laughter.

"I heard you three all the way in my room. With my Airpods in, at max volume."

Hyunjin wraps an arm around my waist, looking down at me like he could devour me again at any moment.

"We were probably in the bathroom at that point. I'll never look at Chan's sink the same way again."

The rest of the guys are seated around the two smaller tables on the other side of the kitchen, laughing and grinning at us. It seems that not only did Felix hear us, but everyone. Chan's ears go red and he groans, taking a seat at the island. Felix sets a plate in front of him, piling up some pancakes.

"Relax, hyung. We're all just happy that you're happy."

Chan looks up, glancing at Hyunjin and I for a moment, a contented smile crossing his face.

"Yeah, I definitely am."

Seungmin chimes in from across the kitchen, serious as ever. "I didn't know that people actually screamed during sex, though. I thought someone was dying."

Chan looks like his soul is about to expire and Felix hands me a plate of pancakes, extra chocolate chips.

"For my Princess. Extra carbs because you've earned it. I'll get you some orange juice too – I imagine you're probably dehydrated after all of that." He winks, turning around to the fridge.

We eat breakfast, talking and chatting with everyone else. I finish my pancakes and get up to help Felix clean up. He leans in close while we're loading the dishwasher, a mischievous look in his eyes.

"So, how was it? I mean, I heard it. But I need the play-by-play. Are you officially living in a romance novel now, or what? Details."

I glance back at Chan and Hyunjin, who are deep in planning mode for our day. No idea that I'm about to divulge some juicy details about our night last night.

"Oh god, it was...I've never been so wrecked. Ever."

Felix raises his eyebrows at me, grinning. "Ever?"

I nod enthusiastically, pulling him to the side. "Felix, I was on the sink – and Hyunjin made me –"

At the mention of his name, Hyunjin perks up, his eyes on us. Caught. His lips curl into a grin because he knows what I'm telling Felix. He saunters over to us, orange juice in hand.

"Are you telling our secrets over here?"

Felix folds his arms and leans closer to Hyunjin.

"You tell me – did you, or did you not defile Chan's bathroom sink like a man possessed?"

I absolutely howl with laughter.

Hyunjin takes a slow sip of his juice, unphased. "Guilty. But in my defense, she looked beautiful on that counter. And Chan watched the whole thing from the bathtub."

Felix's eyes widen and he turns to Chan, who is very obviously not making eye contact and stirring an empty mug. Felix leans on the island, looking at Chan. "You watched?"

Still not looking away from his empty mug, Chan replies, "We were all involved at some point. It's called teamwork, Felix, look it up."

I wheeze and fall back against Hyunjin, both of us laughing loudly. Felix looks shocked, but also a bit...proud?

"You know what, hyung? I'm proud of you. Finally putting all those suggestive lyrics to use! Should STAY expect a song about your bathtub voyeurism?"

Chan groans and hides his face in his hands while Hyunjin and I continue to lose it, nearly dropping our cups of juice. Felix walks around the island and pats Chan on the shoulder, leaving the room shaking his head.

"Come on, hyung. Let's go get dressed so we can spoil this one." Hyunjin says, pinching my butt as he scoots out from behind me.

Chan gets up and follows him upstairs, leaving me in the kitchen alone. I hop up on one of the stools and pull out my new phone to inspect it a bit further. They'd given it to me last night, but I hadn't exactly had time to look at it. They'd put a lot of apps on it – some I recognized, some I didn't. I lock it, turning it over in my hand. This still feels like a dream.

Eric crosses my mind like a shadow. A dumb rain cloud that I can't shake. I wish I could erase him from my mind, the last five years a total waste. He didn't deserve my love, time, OR attention.

Chan and Hyunjin arrive back in the kitchen ready for our shopping trip, looking handsome as ever, grinning at me from ear-to-ear.

Eric never deserved me, that much my father had made clear. But maybe these two do.

***

An hour later, we're in a home goods store nearby, and Hyunjin has adopted the largest, fluffiest pillow in the store. Chan has the cart, a list, and keeps reminding Hyunjin that we're not here for him.

"I know, I know. I'm picking things out for her to look at."

"Then put the fluffy pillow in the cart. And those string lights. And the set of candles."

Hyunjin gives Chan a look, setting everything in the cart, switching out the set of candles he's holding for the larger one.

"Oh! A moon pillow! It's velvet! She needs it." He throws it in the cart and I laugh out loud.

I glance at Chan and he winks at me over the list he's holding. That one wink makes my heart flip and I press a kiss to his cheek, turning to see Hyunjin looking devastated, feeling left out. I pull him to me and plant a kiss on his forehead.

"I swear you two are the sweetest. Really, the best."

They both soften at my words, squeezing me between them as they embrace me from both sides.

"Well, you deserve the best. Come, let's keep shopping. There are aisles that haven't been explored yet."

Hyunjin drags me into the next aisle and finds the biggest, softest comforter I've ever seen. It's pink and fluffy, and also sparkly. I love it immediately.

"This. This is perfect." He throws it in the cart. Chan laughs, throwing in a more practical option as well. The cart is overflowing at this point, all of the bigger things sitting on a flatbed at the front of the store. A nightstand, multiple lights, bookcases, shelves, furniture and fixtures for the bathroom, rugs. A basket full of mugs, ramen bowls, and chopsticks that "fit my vibe", according to Hyunjin. Two entire rooms full of stuff, all for me. My lip quivers and I bite back happy tears that threaten to fall onto my face. Not now, damn it.

We make it through the rest of the store and Chan goes up to the front, negotiating the delivery of all the things that won't fit in the SUV. Hyunjin and I are lounging by the door, his arm around my waist.

"I can't wait to show you everything in this next store. I'll buy you whatever inspires you, and then we can create together." He turns into me, pulling me closer, a lustful look in his eyes. "I'd love to paint the look on your face when you fall apart...like you did last night."

My cheeks flame and I lean into him, hiding my face. He tilts my chin up to look at him.

"Would you let me paint you like that? Messy, bare...ours?"

I can feel his breath on me, our faces are so close. There's nary a single thought in my head other than I need to kiss him right now. As if he hears my one and only thought, he leans down to do exactly that, and Chan walks up with an accomplished smile on his face.

"Oh, did I interrupt something?" He grins at us, ushering us out the door to the SUV. Hyunjin gets in first, then me, and Chan behind us. Chan shuts the door and turns to me, and they're both on me. Chan's lips like fire on mine, Hyunjin's mouth on my neck, pulling my collar to the side so he can get to my shoulder. Their hands everywhere – my hips, back, thighs. I whimper into Chan's mouth as the SUV pulls away from the curb, bouncing us around. Chan groans into the kiss, cupping my jaw with one hand while the other palms my thigh, pulling it over his lap. Hyunjin's mouth is relentless—hot, open kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing the skin like he's starving. His fingers tangle in the hem of my shirt, sliding underneath, dragging goosebumps in their wake.

"You taste so fucking sweet," Hyunjin murmurs against my skin, his voice thick, "I could eat you alive."

I'm gasping, clinging to Chan's hoodie like it's the only thing tethering me to Earth. He kisses me harder in response, tongue sliding against mine, hungry and deliberate. His hand squeezes my thigh again, pulling me closer, until I'm straddling his lap in the backseat. I can feel him beneath me, hard and pulsing through his jeans. I rock my hips against him and the sound that leaves me is obscene. Hyunjin scoots all the way over so he's pressed up against Chan and his hands are greedy. He slides them up the front of my shirt to rest just under the cup of my bra, the look on his face pure mischief.

"Just a little bit?" He pleads, his voice thick with need. I nod, unable to form a coherent thought, and he lunges forward, unhooking my bra and taking one of my nipples in his mouth in a flash.

Chan swears under his breath, his hands tightening on my waist as Hyunjin sucks and licks, his mouth hot and insistent. I lean my head against Chan's shoulder, completely undone, the moan that rips from my throat echoing through the SUV.

Chan bites my neck, not hard, just enough to make me cry out again. "Fuck, Babygirl. You're so responsive—look at you. Falling apart with both of us on you."

Hyunjin groans against my chest, teeth grazing before he pulls back to kiss the other nipple, flicking it with his tongue. "She was made for this," he breathes. "Made for us."

My hips move on instinct, grinding down into Chan's lap, my body electric and humming with heat. His hands slide up under my shirt now, palms rough and warm on my skin, lifting the fabric just enough to expose more. Hyunjin's hand joins his, stroking along my ribs, my stomach, tracing the curve of me like I'm something delicate and sacred and absolutely filthy.

"Please, I need – please –" I whine.

Chan growls in my ear, lifting me just enough to settle me perfectly over the thick line of his cock straining against his jeans.

"If you need it, take it. Use me to get yourself off, Baby." He grinds up into me and I gasp, rolling my hips in response.

Hyunjin is in my ear, one hand teasing my nipples. "Rub that tight little pussy on him. Get yourself off on his cock so we can watch."

He continues to whisper absolutely filthy things in my ear as I desperately grind myself on Chan's lap. Chan holds my hips, guiding me, his head leaning back on the seat as he pants – a moan escaping him occasionally.

I cling to him, my hips rocking faster as I get closer to the edge. His cock is so hard now that every roll of my hips sends delicious sparks through my body, my moans and whimpers filling the backseat of the SUV.

Hyunjin lightly palms himself over his sweats, watching Chan and I together. My thighs are trembling and I go faster, Chan's grip on my hips almost bruising. He leans forward and bites my neck, continuing to meet my movements with his own.

"That's it," he whispers, his voice rough, "such a good girl for us. Come on, let go and come all over me."

Hyunjin kisses up my neck, nibbling gently just under my ear. "Make a mess, gorgeous. Right here, just like this. We'll take care of you."

It's too much — their hands, their mouths, their voices. My whole body locks up, my hips stuttering against Chan's, and then I'm coming with a soft, broken sob, my vision whiting out as pleasure tears through me.

Chan holds me tightly against him, whispering soft praises in my ear as I ride it out, while Hyunjin peppers slow kisses across my flushed skin.

I'm wrecked – leaning fully against Chan, panting, as I come down from my high. Hyunjin smooths my hair away from my face, still placing little kisses here and there.

"Next time, I want to help." He grins, kissing my nose, as the SUV comes to a stop outside of the art supply store. "Perfect timing. Let's go inside so I can have my turn spoiling you."

I'm sweaty and my thighs are sticky and my legs are shaking. I scoot off of Chan's lap and shakily pull Hyunjin's shorts back up on my hips, chuckling breathlessly. I sit up and Chan is still seated in the same position, looking about as wrecked as I feel. I slide across the seat towards him to get out when I notice it – a very large, noticeable wet spot on his jeans.

I reach out and lightly drag my finger over the dark spot, watching him jolt and shudder.

"Looks like you made a bit of a mess." I tease, my voice still hoarse from all the desperate sounds they pulled out of me. He looks down at the spot and back up to me. "Oh, this? This is mostly all you, Babygirl." He leans forward and pulls his hoodie off. For a moment, I think he's about to tackle me deeper into the backseat. But instead, he jumps out and ties the hoodie around his waist...backwards. It looks suspicious and goofy as hell, but it gets the job done. I hop out behind him and both of them immediately are at my sides to steady me. The baby deer syndrome is going hard and my legs wobble. Hyunjin opens the door to the art supply store for us and we walk in. He bounces around once we're inside, leaving Chan and I by the door. Chan leans down, whispering in my ear.

"Don't think for a second that I'm done with you. Once we're back in the car, you're mine." He winks at me and steps away, wandering down the aisle after Hyunjin.

I stand there for a second, still trying to get my bearings, my thighs clenching instinctively at Chan's whispered promise.

I catch a glimpse of Hyunjin a few aisles down, already grabbing way too many sketchpads and paintbrushes, looking entirely too innocent for someone with such a filthy mouth.

I trail after them on unsteady legs, pretending to be fascinated by a wall of acrylic paints. I'm just about to reach for a deep, royal blue when I feel a body press against my back — hard enough to trap me between the shelf and him.

"Careful, Baby," Chan murmurs against the shell of my ear, his arm wrapping around my waist, his fingers digging in possessively. "You're still a bit unsteady."

My heart nearly bursts out of my chest. I glance around — but the aisle is empty except for us.

Chan's hand slides down my front, dangerously close to slipping beneath the hem of Hyunjin's shorts I'm still wearing. His fingers tease just along the inside of my thigh, feather-light, until I'm trembling again.

"Your thighs are still wet, you know," he breathes, just loud enough for me to hear, his mouth brushing against my ear. "You're gonna make a mess all over the floor if you're not careful."

Hyunjin peeks around the end of the aisle, arms full of supplies. "You two good?" he calls, raising a brow like he knows exactly what's happening.

"Yep!" Chan chirps brightly, completely unbothered. "Just helping our girl pick out her colors."

I try to get my heart rate under control as Hyunjin comes bounding back toward us, grinning like he's just won the lottery.

"Okay, okay — hear me out." He dumps his armful of supplies into a nearby cart and immediately drags me down another aisle. "You need a proper setup, not just some sad little sketchbook on your lap."

Chan falls into step behind us, still wearing his hoodie tied backwards around his waist like some deranged mall rat from the early 2000s.

I try not to laugh — or look too flustered — as Hyunjin leads me straight to a whole section of drawing desks and easels.

He plants his hands on his hips proudly. "Pick one. Any one you want."

I stare, overwhelmed. There's so many. Sleek glass-topped desks, classic wooden ones, adjustable easels with fancy built-in storage—

"You pick for me," I say quietly, still trying not to wobble on my feet. "I trust you."

Hyunjin beams like I just handed him the keys to my soul.

He immediately sets off, testing the sturdiness of every desk like he's on some HGTV show. Tapping the wood, adjusting the angles, muttering things like "Nah, she deserves better," under his breath.

Meanwhile, Chan sidles up behind me again, his hands ghosting over my hips under the oversized shorts I'm still wearing.

"You really shouldn't have said you trust him," Chan murmurs, brushing his lips along my temple. "You're gonna walk out of here with an entire art studio."

Finally, Hyunjin stops in front of a gorgeous drawing desk — sleek, dark wood with adjustable everything, tons of drawers and compartments.

"This one. It's perfect. It's sturdy — and it'll hold all your beautiful chaos." He runs his hand lovingly across the top of it like he's blessing it.

Before I can protest, he's flagging down a store associate and rattling off a whole list of supplies: charcoal pencils, pastels, watercolors, ink pens, sketchbooks in every size imaginable – everything he hadn't already dumped into the cart.

I start to open my mouth to argue but Chan's hand tightens meaningfully on my hip.

"Let us spoil you," he murmurs. "You deserve it."

Hyunjin nods vigorously like a golden retriever who just learned a new trick. "Only the best for our girl."

And just like that, I melt — letting them pile the cart higher and higher, feeling dizzy and loved and overwhelmed in the best possible way.

After completely scouring the store, we finally make our way up to the front, Hyunjin pushing the overflowing cart proudly. Chan drags the large box with my desk in it, his hoodie starting to come untied from his waist. He leans the box against the register and straightens up, tightening the hoodie with an exasperated sigh.

I stand off to the side, trying to stifle my giggles but he catches me, giving me a look that says, again, "I'm not done with you." Hyunjin, blissfully unaware of the silent exchange going on between Chan and I, piles things from the cart onto the counter. Sketchbooks, paintbrushes, paints, gel pens, and basically anything you could think would be in an art supply store is in this cart and being set on the counter.

Hyunjin pays for everything and we haul bag upon bag out to the curb, Chan dragging my desk box along with us. The driver pulls up in front of us, popping the trunk and Hyunjin starts shoving bags into it, trying to make room for the box. Chan leans it against the SUV, walking around to open the back passenger door for me, getting in behind me. I know what's coming, and I'm not at all surprised when I hear him growl and slam the door, pulling me immediately onto his lap to face him. He pulls the hoodie free from his hips, tossing it onto the seat next to us, grinding the ridge of his cock up into me.

"You've been driving me insane all morning," he rasps against my lips. "And now you're going to fix it."

I let out a startled laugh, but it gets swallowed quickly when he crashes his mouth against mine, kissing me like a starving man finally getting his first meal. His hands are everywhere — gripping my hips, sliding under my shirt, yanking me tighter against him.

The SUV rocks slightly as Hyunjin finally climbs into the backseat across from us, shutting the door with a soft click. His eyes catch on the scene unfolding in front of him, and instead of scolding us — or laughing — he just smirks, slouching lazily into the seat.

"Not waiting until we get home, I see." He teases, his voice low and amused.

Chan doesn't even acknowledge him – his hands in my shorts, gripping my bare ass.

"These are in the way, take them off." He says, his voice shaky. I move off of him and quickly remove them, along with my undies, hopping back into his lap. He frees his cock with one hand, lining himself up with me.

"Now, Babygirl," he pants. "Sit down. Take me. Right fucking now."

I don't hesitate. I sink down onto him, crying out as he fills me completely, the sudden stretch making my vision blur. Chan groans deep in his chest, throwing his head back against the seat as he grips my hips hard enough to leave bruises.

The car pulls away from the curb, starting the short drive home, but the world outside the windows disappears. All I can focus on is the way he feels inside me, thick and throbbing and perfect.

Hyunjin shifts in his seat, biting his bottom lip as he watches us shamelessly.

"Fuck, you two are so hot," he murmurs, palming himself over his sweats as he watches me ride Chan, slow and shaky.

Chan's hands guide me, lifting and dropping me onto his cock in frantic, messy movements. His eyes are glazed, his breath coming in sharp pants against my throat.

"You're ours," he growls, thrusting up into me. "Fucking ours. Gonna fill you up so good, Babygirl. Make you messy before our date."

I whimper, clinging to him, feeling myself unravel faster than I thought possible.

Hyunjin leans forward, one hand reaching out lazily to brush over my clit, feather-light at first, then with more pressure when I sob at the contact.

"Go ahead," Hyunjin purrs. "Cum for us. Make a mess before sushi, beautiful."

Chan bites down on my shoulder, muffling a guttural moan, and it sends me flying over the edge. I break apart around him with a shuddering cry, my body convulsing against his.

Chan follows seconds later, hips stuttering as he buries himself deep and spills inside me, his whole body tensing under mine. He clutches me against his chest, whispering filthy, breathless praises into my ear while I tremble through the aftershocks.

The car slows as we turn into the driveway, but none of us move. I stay sprawled across Chan's lap, panting, Hyunjin stroking my hair and smiling like he's the luckiest man alive. Chan kisses my forehead tenderly, still buried inside me.

"Think you can make it inside without collapsing, Babygirl?" he teases.

"Not without help," I mumble.

Hyunjin laughs, already reaching for the door handle.

"Good thing you have two very willing assistants," he says.

Chan shifts under me, his cock still twitching inside me, and groans. He finally lifts me gently off his lap, both of us hissing at the oversensitivity. He tucks himself away quickly, helping me pull my clothes back on with shaking hands. I glance over at Hyunjin, who's still lounging like a cat who just witnessed the greatest show of his life.

Our driver parks, and before either of us can even think about gathering ourselves properly, the trunk pops open and Hyunjin is bounding out to start unloading our haul.

Chan grabs my chin lightly, turning my face back to him.

"You okay, Babygirl?" he asks, his voice low and full of something that makes my heart ache.

I nod, smiling, unable to find words.

He presses one last lingering kiss to my forehead before sliding out of the SUV and offering me his hand. I take it, legs still trembling slightly, and he steadies me. We gather the bags — slowly, lazily, like we're drunk on each other — and stagger up to the door, arms full of art supplies, flushed cheeks, and secret smiles. The house is warm and quiet as we step inside, the familiar comfort of it wrapping around me. Chan kicks the door closed with his foot and sets his load down, turning to watch me as I take off my shoes and set the lighter bags on the floor. Hyunjin brushes past me with a wink, arms full of even more bags, and heads straight for the guest room to start setting everything up like it's Christmas morning.

I turn back to Chan and find him still staring at me — at the way I move, at the love still so evident on my face. His gaze softens, something almost reverent sparking in those deep brown eyes.

"Better hurry and change," he says, voice rough around the edges. "Our reservation's in an hour. But if you keep looking at me like that... we're never leaving this house."

I laugh — a real, bright laugh — feeling lighter than I have in months. Maybe years.

Maybe my whole life.

I blow him a kiss and start toward my room, my body sore and sticky and aching in the most delicious way.

Behind me, I hear Chan groan and mutter under his breath.

"Trouble. So much fucking trouble."

And for the first time, I feel like this is real.

I feel like I'm home.

Chapter 5

"This is it? This is all you brought?" Felix looks into my sad little suitcase like it has personally offended him.

"Well look, I wasn't exactly planning on coming here. You know that."

I sit cross-legged in the middle of Felix's bed, hugging the huge fluffy pillow that Hyunjin had picked out at the store earlier as Felix rummages through my life. The only things in my suitcase are funeral wear – everything I had brought to Vermont with me when I had gone to settle my father's affairs right after he passed away.

Felix sighs and sits next to me, patting my thigh.

"I know, I'm sorry. But hey, look, this just gives us a chance to be creative, right? There are EIGHT other people living here – we can find you something that works."

His eyes light up and he hops off the bed, taking my hand and dragging me across the hall to another bedroom, one I hadn't been into yet – Hyunjin's. Shelves and bookcases line the entire left wall, decorated with books, pictures, and sculptures. Felix throws open Hyunjin's closet on the other side of the room, mumbling something about earrings.

As I walk along the bookshelves, admiring the beautiful chaos that perfectly captures Hyunjin's personality, I suddenly hear the sound of Felix knocking things off hangers. A moment later, he stands triumphantly, sparkling studded earrings in hand. I stifle a giggle behind my hand as he dashes out of the room and down the hallway toward Chan's. My bare feet pad quietly behind him, the sound of my steps barely audible. Meanwhile, Chan and Hyunjin are busy in my new room, assembling furniture, completely oblivious to Felix's mission to find me an outfit.

I poke my head into the room, curiosity getting the better of me, and the sight I'm met with makes my heart skip a beat and my thighs ache in the best way. Hyunjin has shed his hoodie, now only in a black tank top and sweats, leaning over a nightstand with a screwdriver clenched between his teeth. Meanwhile, Chan is shirtless, sitting on the floor, focused on putting together a bookcase. So hot. So domestic. So...sweaty.

Chan looks over and catches me watching them, a smile lighting up his face.

"Ah, there she is. I thought you were getting ready?"

"I am. Felix is raiding your room for clothes."

Chan freezes, a flash of panic crossing his face.

"Oi, mate! Don't touch the outfit on my bed!"

Felix runs out of Chan's room, passing by me and yelling, "Too late!" before he skids to a halt in front of his own door, waving me over with a mischievous grin. I bite my lip, holding Chan's gaze for just a moment before I back away from the doorway, turning on my heel and jogging down the hallway after Felix.

***

"Are you sure this looks okay?" I ask Felix, standing in front of his full-length mirror. I'm dressed in a patchwork of pieces from multiple closets: the black skirt is his, the shirt mine, the earrings and rings Hyunjin's, and the jacket Chan's.

"Trust me, Princess," Felix grins, adjusting the collar of my jacket. "When they see you in this outfit, all bets are off. They won't be able to focus on anything other than you."

I pull my hair up and Felix fusses at me, plucking the hair tie from my fingers with a little huff. He fluffs my hair out, smoothing it in a few places before stepping back to admire his work.
"Let them see you like this," he says, eyes warm and proud. "Soft, but kind of wild. Perfect."

We share a smile — a secret, giddy thing — before I slip my shoes back on and follow him out into the hallway.
My heart hammers as I glance toward my new room.

Chan and Hyunjin are standing there, dressed for our date — and when they see me, they freeze.
Both of them look devastatingly handsome, but it's the way they're looking at me that makes my breath catch.
Like I've stolen the air right out of the room. Like they've forgotten how to move, how to think, how to do anything but look.

Chan moves first, slow and cautious, like he's afraid I'll vanish if he even breathes too hard.
Hyunjin follows a half-step behind, his gaze locked onto me with a reverence that makes my knees go weak.
They close the distance between us, not touching, not speaking — just looking — like they're seeing something they never believed they'd get to have.

Chan's eyes roam over me, slow and careful, lingering on the jacket — his — then the rings on my fingers, the glint of Hyunjin's earrings catching the light. His voice, when it comes, is barely more than a whisper.

"You're wearing pieces of us..." He swallows hard, stepping closer. "And somehow, you still look more like yourself than ever. I don't know how that's possible."

"You chose this...wrapping us both around you so beautifully..." Hyunjin breathes against my neck, gently moving my hair away so he can look at the adornment of his earrings on my ear.

Chan's hand lingers on the edge of the jacket, just above where my shirt meets the waistband of the skirt. His eyes flick up to mine, and they're so open—so full of something I'm almost afraid to name.

"You have no idea," he says quietly, "what it does to me. Seeing you like this. Choosing us. You..."
He trails off, his throat working as he swallows.

I blink up at him, my heart hammering so hard I'm surprised he can't hear it.
He leans in a little closer, brushing his knuckles along my cheek.

"Just... know that it's not just a jacket. Or a date. Or a moment. It's more."
He smiles, soft and aching. "You're more."

And then he steps back, letting Hyunjin take my hand — but I can still feel his words burning into my skin.

All three of us walk down the hallway together, headed towards the stairs. Felix dips back into his room, winking at me one last time before disappearing.

***

The SUV hums quietly beneath us, city lights casting soft flashes across the leather interior as we weave through the streets. The driver says nothing, a silent presence behind the wheel, leaving the three of us cocooned in the back — just us and the hum of anticipation.

Hyunjin sits on one side of me, Chan on the other. I feel them both — the heat of their legs against mine, the subtle shift of air when one of them leans closer. No one speaks at first. It's like we're all still living in the moment from the hallway, too stunned to break the spell.

Hyunjin exhales a quiet, shaky laugh, turning to me. "You did this on purpose..." he says, his voice barely above a whisper, like this is a secret. "Wearing our things...looking like this." His eyes flicker down, taking me in again. There's something in his eyes that I can't exactly place. Something new.

Chan's hand finds mine, warm and grounding. I look over, and he's already watching me — not smiling, not teasing, just looking, like I'm some miracle he never thought he'd be allowed to touch. There's something in his eyes too, just beneath the surface. He looks like he's about to say something, but doesn't - he stops, swallows, and for one suspended second, I swear he's going to say it — the thing. That thing that is absolutely impossible.
But he doesn't. Instead, he lifts our joined hands and presses a kiss to my knuckles, then rests them in his lap.

I don't say anything. I can't. I don't trust my voice not to crack open and spill every messy, aching thing I'm feeling.

Hyunjin's fingers brush my thigh, slow and absentminded, like he doesn't even realize he's doing it — like he just needs to touch me, somewhere, to anchor himself.
He leans in, his temple resting against mine, and whispers, "You're dangerous like this."
A soft smile tugs at his lips, but his voice is all sincerity. "You wear us like we belong to you."
And maybe that's the moment I realize — they want to.

The SUV slows as we pull up to the restaurant, city lights spilling through the tinted windows. Chan doesn't let go of my hand. Hyunjin doesn't move away. For one last second, we just sit there in the quiet hush between heartbeats — like if we don't move, this feeling will last forever.

Then the driver opens the door.

And the night begins.

The hostess doesn't even blink when she sees Hyunjin — just gives a polite nod and a quiet, "Welcome back," before leading us through the softly lit restaurant. The air is cool and fragrant with rice vinegar and fresh fish, the gentle murmur of conversation humming around us as we slip past tables and disappear behind a dark curtain into a private booth nestled in the back.

It's quiet here — cocooned in warm lighting and low ceilings — and I can already feel the atmosphere shift as the three of us slide into the curved booth. Hyunjin sits beside me, Chan across from us, and their knees immediately find mine under the table.

Hyunjin leans forward, eyes gleaming. "Well? What do you think?"

I glance around, taking it all in — the quiet, the warmth, the way it feels like the outside world has melted away.

"It's beautiful," I say honestly, my voice a little breathless. "Peaceful. Like a secret hideout."

Chan's mouth quirks into a grin. "That's the idea."

A slim, leather-bound menu appears in front of me, and I blink down at it. Everything is written in Korean. Because of course it is.

I glance at Hyunjin and then at Chan, lips twitching with a little embarrassed smile. "Okay, um... I'm gonna need some help. Unless you want me to accidentally order, like... fermented squid intestines."

Hyunjin laughs, the sound low and fond. "Tempting. But no. We'll help you."

Chan leans in, nudging the menu toward him. "Tell us what you like. We'll take care of the rest."

And just like that, I feel it again — that sense of being held. Cared for. Worshipped, in the most unexpected, quiet ways. I set the menu down and tell them a few things I've tried before and liked, and a couple things I'd be open to trying. Chan and Hyunjin look over the menu, pointing at different pages, discussing what would be best to get.

Hyunjin taps his finger on a line of text and murmurs something in Korean, and Chan nods in agreement. They look so serious, like choosing the perfect combination of sushi is a sacred ritual.

"This one," Hyunjin says, glancing up at me with a soft smile. "You'll like it. It's simple, but really fresh."

"And this," Chan adds, pointing to another item. "A little adventurous, but not too much. Just enough to impress you."

I laugh, their thoughtfulness warming my heart. "Are you trying to impress me with raw fish?"

Chan's eyes flick to mine, full of mischief. "Always trying to impress you."

Hyunjin smirks. "Is it working?"

Once the order is in, Hyunjin reaches across the table, stealing my hand just like Chan did earlier in the car. His thumb brushes over my fingers absentmindedly, like he doesn't even realize he's doing it. Chan leans back in the booth, eyes warm as they flick between the two of us.

The food arrives in waves — tiny, perfect plates of rolls and sashimi and little fried things that smell like heaven. The moment the first dish is set down, Hyunjin practically beams.

"Oh my god," he groans dramatically, reaching for a piece of salmon. "I've been dreaming about this all day."

I reach for the same plate and our chopsticks clash mid-air. He raises an eyebrow at me, challenging.

"I saw it first," I tease.

"You hesitated," he fires back, but instead of taking it for himself, he picks it up and holds it out to me. "Looks like you do need someone to feed you after all."

I roll my eyes but lean forward, letting him feed it to me. It's buttery and fresh and melts on my tongue. I moan quietly, and Hyunjin's eyes go wide.

"Well, now I want a turn," Chan says, already picking something from another plate. He scoots closer to me, holding it to my mouth. "Let's see if I can get that reaction."

He offers it to me and I lean in again, this time meeting his eyes as I take the bite from his chopsticks. He doesn't look away. Doesn't blink. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"You're going to kill us," he says softly.

"Worth it," Hyunjin murmurs around a mouthful of tempura, leaning back against the booth, closing his eyes.

We steal bites from each other's plates, try to guess what's inside some mystery rolls, and spend half the time laughing. Hyunjin complains dramatically when Chan won't share his favorite roll, and Chan ends up feeding it to him just to shut him up. Hyunjin gives him a smug little smile and rests his head on Chan's shoulder like he's won something.

It feels easy. Natural. Like we've done this a hundred times before.

At some point, I end up with both of their hands on my legs under the table — Hyunjin tracing lazy shapes into my thigh, Chan's thumb rubbing small circles into my knee — and I wonder how I ever survived without this.

By the time the last of the plates are cleared, the laughter has faded into something softer — a kind of quiet that feels heavy in the best way. Full. Content.

Hyunjin's still got his head resting lightly on Chan's shoulder, his hand curled loosely around mine beneath the table. Chan's thumb moves in gentle, absent strokes across the back of Hyunjin's, like he's not even aware he's doing it. Like it's just instinct now.

I sip the last of my tea, watching them like I've never seen anything so beautiful.

"I don't think I've ever felt this..." I pause, searching for the word. "Safe. With anyone."

That gets their attention. Chan lifts his eyes to mine, warm and open. "Yeah?"

I nod. "With you both...it's like I can just be. I don't have to perform. I don't have to pretend I'm okay when I'm not. You just... see me."

Hyunjin shifts closer, his expression soft, touched. "Of course we see you. We want to see you. All of you."

There's a long pause where no one speaks — the kind of silence that's rich with meaning, where the air seems to hold its breath.

Chan reaches across the table with his free hand and brushes a stray hair behind my ear. His fingers linger a second longer than they need to. "I hope you know we're not going anywhere," he says. "This — whatever it is — it's real."

Hyunjin's thumb brushes over my knuckles. "And it's just getting started."

I smile at them, my heart so full it almost hurts. I don't say anything right away — I don't think I can — but they see it in my eyes.

The ride home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. The silence between us is charged, like we're all waiting for something to happen. We all feel the energy – the knowledge that this is real, and every moment spent together further solidifies that.

I sit between them again.

Chan's arm drapes along the back of the seat, fingers ghosting over the bare skin of my shoulder where the collar of his jacket has slipped. Hyunjin is close at my other side, his thigh pressing against mine, solid and warm, his hand resting lightly on his knee — but his pinky brushes mine every so often, like he can't help it.

Chan's fingertips skim higher — barely there, just enough to make me shiver. He turns his head and presses a kiss to my temple. Soft. Lingering. Hyunjin watches it happen, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then he leans in too, brushing his lips over my shoulder — reverent, slow — right where the jacket gapes open.

I turn toward Chan first, and he's already there — eyes locked on mine, his breath warm against my cheek. He kisses me. Not hard. Not rushed. Just soft, searching, like he's memorizing the taste of me. When we break apart, I turn to Hyunjin. His hands cradle my face like I'm something breakable, precious. His kiss is different — hungrier, but still gentle. Still tender.

By the time we reach the house, we're breathless. No one says it — but it's there. In every glance. Every touch. Every kiss exchanged in the quiet backseat of the SUV.

We barely make it through the front door.

Chan presses it closed behind us, and suddenly they're both on either side of me — Hyunjin's mouth finding my neck, Chan's hands sliding down my arms. It's quiet, save for the soft sound of our breathing, the rustle of clothing, the click of the lock behind us.

I don't know who kisses me first — I only know the feeling of being caught, bracketed, worshipped. Chan's lips are on mine, his hands in my hair, and Hyunjin's fingers trail down my spine, slow and reverent, tugging the borrowed jacket from my shoulders like it's sacred.

They guide me backward — slowly, carefully — like they want to take their time even as their restraint threatens to unravel. My back hits the wall. Hands find my waist. Mouths find my skin. Everything burns. Hyunjin kisses me like he's starving, like I've undone him completely — and I kiss him back, dizzy with need, with feelings I'm not sure how to carry. Then Chan's mouth brushes the shell of my ear and I gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation of both of them touching me, tasting me, cherishing me.

I feel like a live wire — all sensation, all feeling — and every second that passes, I'm more sure of it than ever. This is real. Suddenly I'm lifted — strong arms under my thighs, a soft gasp escaping me as my back meets a solid chest. Chan. His grip is firm, steady, like he's done holding back. Like he needs me close.

Hyunjin trails behind us, his hands working quickly, urgently, slipping buttons through holes, tugging fabric loose, piece by piece. My jacket disappears first, then the rings, the earrings — everything they dressed me in like a love letter now stripped away with equal devotion.

My shirt slips off my shoulders somewhere between the living room and the hallway. Hyunjin catches it midair, laughing softly, and tucks it into his back pocket like it's precious. The air hums with heat and need, but there's nothing careless in it. Every touch, every glance, every kiss feels intentional — like they're trying to memorize me. Like they already are.

By the time we reach the bedroom door, I'm breathless and half-naked, held tightly in Chan's arms, my lips swollen from kissing, my skin flushed and tingling. Hyunjin opens the door and Chan carries me through. And when I'm laid gently on the bed, surrounded by the heat of them, the weight of their desire, and the depth of something far more dangerous — something that feels an awful lot like love — I know this night will change everything.

Chapter 6

The bedroom is dimly lit, Chan's light on his bedside table casting a warm glow on us as he sets me gently on the bed. Hyunjin takes his place between my legs to continue undressing me, while Chan starts lighting candles and placing them strategically around the room. Hyunjin lovingly pulls the rest of my clothes off, leaving me completely naked. Normally I would feel exposed – so bare compared to both of them who are still fully dressed. But instead, I feel worshipped. Hyunjin looks down at me, taking in every dimple and curve my body has to offer.

He doesn't touch me at first.

Hyunjin just looks, his breath shallow, like he's standing before a masterpiece he's not sure he's worthy to touch. His hands hover, one brushing a strand of hair away from my face, the other tracing the line of my waist without quite settling

Behind him, Chan moves quietly, the soft scratch of a match striking breaking the silence. Candlelight flickers to life, casting golden halos across the room, and the space transforms — from bedroom to altar. Sacred and intimate. Ours.

Hyunjin finally leans down and presses a kiss to my ankle. Then my knee, then my thigh. Each kiss softer than the last. I suck in a shaky breath, my body aching under the weight of their attention. Chan joins us on the bed, settling next to me while Hyunjin continues to place kisses on each of my body parts. I look over to him, and he's bare-chested – his skin glowing in the candlelight. He smiles down at me, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"You're so beautiful like this." He murmurs as he leans forward, his lips ghosting over my skin.

Hyunjin kisses my stomach, his hands caressing my sides as he makes his way up my sternum. He looks up at me through his lashes, the look on his face full of reverence.

"Chan – hyung, we should show her. Let's show her how beautiful she is to us."

They lock eyes, something unspoken passing between them.

"Pull the mirror over here. Angle it towards the bed, right there."

Hyunjin gets up and crosses the room, carefully dragging the mirror into place, right in front of us. He tilts it just slightly, adjusting the angle until the reflection reveals all three of us — me, stretched out and trembling in the soft candlelight; Chan beside me, his arm draped across my waist; Hyunjin, standing at the foot of the bed, dark eyes full of something so intense it nearly undoes me. Chan helps me sit up until I'm kneeling on the bed, close to the edge. He scoots up behind me, his chest warm against my back as he wraps his arms around my waist. It's all there. The glow of the candles casting my skin in gold. The flush across my chest. My parted lips. My wide, shining eyes. Chan behind me, grounding me. Hyunjin in front of me, worshipping me.

Hyunjin slowly unbuttons his shirt, never once breaking eye contact with me through the mirror. Each flick of his fingers feels like a held breath. A promise. When he finally shrugs it off, revealing the sculpted beauty of his chest and shoulders, it feels less like he's undressing and more like he's unraveling — for me.

His pants follow. Then his boxers. And then he's naked, hard, and beautiful — every inch of him etched with intent.

But still, he waits.

"Tell me," he says, voice trembling with restraint, "if you want me to stop."

My mouth is dry, my breath shallow, but there's no hesitation in me.

"I want you," I whisper. "I want this."

And that's all it takes.

Hyunjin kneels in front of me, his movements graceful but desperate, and his hands skim up my thighs, parting them. He kisses one, then the other, his eyes locked with mine in the mirror as his lips travel higher. His hands are warm, steady, sliding around my hips to keep me open for him.

Chan's arms tighten around me as he leans in, his mouth finding the curve of my shoulder, the edge of my jaw. He doesn't speak — he doesn't need to. Every breath, every press of his lips says it all.

You're ours. You're everything.

And then Hyunjin's mouth is on me — slow and careful, coaxing rather than demanding, his tongue moving in delicate circles that build and build. My head falls back against Chan's shoulder as my hands fly to Hyunjin's hair, my thighs shaking under the weight of sensation.

He moans into me and the feeling sends shockwaves through me. I watch the three of us in the reflection of the mirror – Chan holding me steady, Hyunjin worshipping me – and me, coming completely undone.

I come apart with a sob, trembling in their hands. Hyunjin doesn't stop until I'm gasping, until I'm begging, until my legs shake too hard to stay upright.

He finally pulls back, lips wet, eyes dark with awe. He presses a kiss to one thigh, then the other — soft, like a benediction. Like he's thanking me for letting him love me this way. Chan holds me through it, one hand stroking gently over my stomach, the other cradling my jaw, grounding me. Kissing my temple. Whispering words I can't even hear over the ringing in my ears.

"You okay, Babygirl?" he asks softly, his voice just beneath a rasp.

I nod, eyes fluttering open. And that's when I catch my reflection again — glowing, unraveled.

And still, hungry.

"Switch," Hyunjin breathes, voice barely audible, already shifting back, making room.

Chan exhales slowly behind me, pressing one last kiss to my shoulder before moving. I barely get my breath back before I'm being guided again — gently — onto my back.

Chan kneels between my legs, gaze locked on mine, and I've never seen him look so wrecked. Not from lust. From feeling.

"I've wanted you like this since the first night," he whispers, his hands sliding up my calves, my thighs, spreading me open for him. "But not just like this. Like this with him. With you."

I reach for him, and he catches my hand, tangling our fingers as he lines himself up. He pauses, just long enough to check. I nod.

And when he pushes in — slow, deep, filling me — I break.

There's no rush, no teasing. Just his body meeting mine, fully. He moans, a low growl in his throat, his head dropping to my shoulder as he sinks all the way in.

I hold onto him, my nails digging into his back, my breath caught somewhere between a sob and a prayer. Hyunjin moves beside me, pressing kisses to my cheek, my neck, murmuring in Korean — words I don't understand, but feel in every fiber of my being.

Chan starts to move — slow, steady strokes that leave me gasping, clutching, arching. It's not just sex. It's not even just intimacy. It's everything.

His thrusts stay slow, but they deepen — each one sending jolts of pleasure through me, leaving me gasping his name. He shifts, adjusting the angle, and suddenly I'm clawing at his back, my vision going white around the edges.

"Fuck," he groans against my throat. "You feel so good, baby... you're perfect. You're fucking perfect."

His praise obliterates me.

I try to kiss him, but the sensation is overwhelming — all I can do is moan as he rocks into me again and again. He leans back just enough to watch me fall apart beneath him, and his expression changes — hunger and adoration colliding in those dark, molten eyes.

"You see yourself?" he rasps, gesturing toward the mirror behind us.

I turn my head and see. My body stretched out, glowing in candlelight, my hair wild across the sheets, flushed skin, kiss-bruised lips, eyes heavy with pleasure. Chan buried deep between my thighs, his muscles tight with restraint. Hyunjin curled beside me, lips parted, stroking his cock lazily as he watches us — watches me — like he's never seen anything so beautiful.

My breath hitches.

Chan smiles — dark, hungry. "You should see how you look when I fuck you like this."

He thrusts again, harder this time, and I cry out, my hips lifting to meet his. His hand moves between us, his fingers finding my clit, slick and swollen. He circles it just right, eyes locked on mine in the mirror.

"You deserve to feel this good," he growls, sweat dripping down his neck. "You deserve everything, baby. Every fucking thing."

I'm unraveling, again, already — the pressure building fast. I reach out blindly, and Hyunjin takes my hand, lacing our fingers together, kissing the back of my wrist.

"You're so close, aren't you?" Chan pants, speeding up just enough to push me over the edge. "Come for me. Come while you're watching. Let us see how beautiful you are when you break."

I shatter — back arching, thighs shaking, a choked cry of his name tearing from my lips. My vision blurs, the pleasure white-hot and all-consuming. My pulse thunders in my ears as tears slide down my face.

Chan groans deep in his chest, grinding against me through it, drawing every last wave out before slowly pulling out. I whimper at the loss, still trembling.

Hyunjin is already there, stroking my hair back, his mouth brushing against mine.

"My turn," he whispers.

Chan shifts to the side, his chest still heaving, and Hyunjin moves in like a tide—slow, unstoppable. He kisses me before anything else, deep and lingering, his hand cupping my jaw like I'm breakable. His other hand slips down my side, across my hip, ghosting over my inner thigh until I shiver beneath him.

"I've been patient long enough," he murmurs against my lips. "Now I need to feel you."

His voice is breathless — like he's barely holding himself together. And when he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, the look there steals every ounce of air from my lungs.

Love.

He kisses a line down my throat, his hands smoothing over my trembling thighs as he pushes them open again. His touch is gentle, almost too gentle, and it only makes the ache worse.

"Hyunjin," I whisper, reaching for him, but he catches my wrist and pins it beside my head, his body sliding between my legs, hard and ready.

"Let me take my time," he says, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Let me ruin you slowly."

And then he pushes in.

It's different from Chan — not better, not less — just Hyunjin. His hips roll in a slow, devastating rhythm, and the stretch is almost too much after how thoroughly Chan fucked me. I gasp his name and his mouth captures mine again, swallowing the sound.

"You're so wet," he pants against my lips. "So warm. God, I could die like this."

His pace doesn't change. Slow, deep, dragging pleasure out of me with each deliberate thrust. He buries his face in my neck, groaning as he grinds into me, over and over, until I'm clutching the sheets, the aftershocks of my last orgasm blending into something new, something sharper.

"You're doing so well for us," he whispers. "Taking both of us like it's nothing. You don't even know how beautiful you are like this."

He shifts, propping me up a little so I can see. There I am in the mirror again — flushed, glassy-eyed, sweat-slicked, and still shaking. Hyunjin between my thighs now as he watches our bodies move together in slow, perfect rhythm.

"You see that?" he breathes, hand sliding between my thighs again, finding the bundle of nerves already so swollen and sensitive. "You're a masterpiece baby. Ours."

The combination — his cock stroking just right, his fingers working me with maddening precision, his voice in my ear, breath hot — it's too much. I start to fall apart again, every nerve set on fire.

"I can't—Hyunjin—"

"Yes, you can. Give it to me."

He fucks me through it, eyes locked on mine in the mirror. Chan strokes my hair from where he lies beside us, whispering soft praise, grounding me, as my orgasm tears through me — raw and sharp and endless.

Hyunjin follows moments later, a low growl curling in his throat as he thrusts deep one final time and shudders, coming hard, buried to the hilt. His whole body trembles as he slumps over me, still careful not to crush me, his lips finding my temple.

The room is quiet now, save for our breath catching up to itself — unsteady, warm, shared.

Hyunjin finally eases out of me with a groan, kissing my shoulder before collapsing beside me, his hand still trailing lazy strokes down my spine. Chan shifts in closer, pulling the sheet up over all three of us, his arm looping around my waist.

For a long, silent moment, we just breathe.

I feel sore and spent, every muscle humming with the kind of exhaustion that only comes from being unraveled in the best possible way. But I also feel something else — something deeper. Held. Safe. Loved, even if none of us have said it out loud yet.

Chan brushes a piece of hair from my cheek, his fingers feather-light. "You okay, baby?" he asks, voice low and hoarse, like he's still trying to come back to himself.

I nod, a small, sleepy smile pulling at my lips. "Better than okay."

Hyunjin kisses my shoulder again, then my neck, then my cheek. "Good. You were... everything."

I laugh softly and turn just enough to see them both — the way Chan's eyelids are heavy, his fingers still stroking my side; the way Hyunjin watches me with that same quiet awe that's been building all night.

Chan shifts so that I'm half on his chest, my legs tangled with his. Hyunjin curls behind me, his arm slung over my waist, his face tucked into my neck. I feel them both pressing close — two hearts, two bodies, one steady rhythm of breath — and I let my eyes flutter closed.

No more words are needed.

The candles are still burning low when we all drift off, tangled in limbs and warmth, in the afterglow of something much bigger than any of us can say out loud.

***

The first thing I notice is the absence of heat.

No strong arms around my waist. No tangled limbs. Just cool sheets and the soft hum of morning light filtering in through the curtains.

I blink against the sunlight, slowly surfacing from sleep, sore in all the right places, my body still thrumming with echoes of the night before. My hand instinctively reaches for one of them — but the bed is empty.

I sit up, the sheet slipping from my chest, and that's when I see it.

A folded note sits on Chan's pillow, paper thick and cream-colored, like it came from a proper stationery set. My name is written across the front in two different hands — Chan's neat and precise, Hyunjin's loopy and dramatic.

I open it.

Sweetheart,

We didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful, and we figured you might need the rest after... everything.

We had early meetings this morning, but we'll be in the studio all day. Felix said you two are going shopping — he's excited, by the way, and told us he's "on a mission." God help us all.

After that, would you come by and watch practice? We want you there. We'll text you the time.

P.S. – You're unbelievable. Last night was...

P.P.S. – I took the shirt you wore. It's mine now.

– C & H

I press the paper to my chest and flop back against the pillows, a huge, dopey smile tugging at my lips. My muscles protest, but I don't care. I feel radiant.

Wanted. Worshipped.

Loved — even if they haven't said it yet.

And now, I apparently have a shopping trip and a dance practice to get ready for.

I groan as I sit up — slowly. Very slowly.

Every inch of me aches in that distinctly satisfying, well-fucked kind of way. My thighs. My hips. Muscles I forgot existed. Even my hair feels tired, somehow. I roll my neck and wince. Yeah. That tracks.

I spot a black shirt tossed haphazardly over the chair in the corner — soft, oversized, familiar. Definitely Hyunjin's. It smells like his cologne and his skin and something warm and woodsy I can't name but could absolutely get addicted to.

Slipping it on feels like being hugged. My body's still bare underneath, and the fabric hangs off one shoulder like it's flirting with me. I glance down and snort.

I look freshly ruined.

And I am. Thoroughly.

I shuffle down the hallway, feet dragging, hair a wreck, and open Felix's door without knocking. The room is already bright, curtains flung open and Coldplay blasting at a frankly illegal volume for this hour of the morning. I wince at the sunlight, feeling like a vampire with a paper route.

Felix turns dramatically from his closet, squinting at me.

Then he gasps, hands flying to his mouth.

"Oh my god."

I pause, blinking at him.

"You," he says, slowly, like I've committed a war crime, "are walking."

"Barely," I mutter, limping toward his bed and flopping face-down into the pillows.

He flops down next to me like we're in the middle of a teen drama. "Was it the ear whispering? Hyunjin is so dramatic that way."

I groan into the pillow. "Felix. I can't feel my legs."

"You shouldn't! Honestly, if you could, I'd be disappointed for them."

I glance sideways at him, trying not to laugh. "You know, this is entirely your fault for dressing me like you did."

Felix gasps again — louder this time, like he's been personally attacked. "Excuse me, I gave the people what they wanted. You looked like a walking fantasy. I would've pounced on you, too."

"I'm never going to recover," I mumble into the pillow. "My soul left my body somewhere between the mirror and Chan whispering in my ear."

Felix dramatically fans himself. "The mirror. Of course there was a mirror. God, they're so in love with you. It's disgusting. I'm obsessed."

I groan again, flopping onto my back like I'm summoning the strength to rise from the dead. "They didn't say that."

"They didn't have to, babe. I've seen less longing in romance K-dramas and those guys slow blinked at each other for twelve episodes before holding hands."

He shoves a coffee cup into my hand, where the hell did that come from?

"Drink this. Hydrate. Then we're putting your ass in something dangerous. We've got shops to traumatize and sweaty men to impress at dance practice."

"Felix..."

He grins wickedly.

"Yes?"

"I'm gonna need an outfit I can sit in."

He pats my thigh, mock-sympathetic. "No promises."

***

The store is overwhelming in the best possible way — all clean lines, soft music, and rows of clothes that look like they belong to the cool, confident version of me I'm still not sure I am.

Felix is in his element, twirling a hanger in one hand and holding a latte in the other like he was born to do this. "Okay, Princess, I'm thinking sultry art museum date for this one," he says, holding up a slinky black dress with mesh cutouts and a dramatic back.

I raise a brow. "That's a lot of...side."

He shrugs. "So are your thighs. Be proud."

We end up taking over a dressing room — okay, two dressing rooms, one for me and one for the growing pile of 'definitely maybes.' I try on loungewear so soft I nearly cry, a cozy two-piece knit set that makes me feel like the heroine in a romantic drama, and then a pair of wide-leg jeans that actually fit. It's a miracle.

Felix leans against the mirror, scrolling through photos on his phone. "This one's comfy and hot. Like, you could wear it around the house and Chan would still follow you around like a lovesick golden retriever."

"I don't know how you do this," I admit, pulling on a cropped cardigan. "I'm usually so overwhelmed shopping. Nothing fits right. Or it fits, but it doesn't feel like me."

His smile softens. "Yeah. I get that."

Something in his voice makes me pause. I peek out at him, curious. "You do?"

He exhales through his nose, suddenly very focused on the hem of a shirt. "I didn't always feel comfortable in my body. I still don't, sometimes. I used to dress how people expected me to. Masculine. Safe. But I felt...gray. You know?"

I nod, stepping out fully, cardigan half-buttoned. "And now you feel...?"

"Like me. It took time. And the right people around me."

His words settle into my chest, warm and heavy.

"You know I didn't bring anything with me when I left the States," I say quietly. "Only funeral clothes. Nothing that felt like me. I didn't even know who I was anymore."

Felix looks at me — really looks — and sets the phone down. "Then let's figure it out together. Piece by piece."

And we do. We build a wardrobe of cozy sweaters, loose jeans, soft oversized tees that look like they were stolen from lovers. We find dresses that make me blush and skirts that hug just right. There's even a little black number Felix insists I buy "for emergencies," whatever that means.

By the end, I'm walking out of the store with bags in both hands, a new jacket draped over my shoulders, and a sense of self I haven't felt in a long time.

Felix slings an arm around me and beams. "You're dangerous now."

I bump his hip with mine. "Good."

By the time we get back to the dorms, Felix is practically vibrating with the need to be on time.

"I have maybe four minutes before Minho threatens my life," he mutters, already kicking off his shoes and shedding layers as he makes a beeline for his room. "I'll change and head straight there — you good getting dressed?"

I nod, arms full of shopping bags. "Go. I'll meet you down there."

"Pick something that makes jaws drop," he calls out, disappearing into his room. "Comfortable, but lethal."

Once he's gone, I retreat to my own room, letting the quiet wrap around me. I slip into the new leggings we found — the black ones that felt like they were made just for me — and pair them with a soft, oversized sage green t-shirt that falls off one shoulder. The whole outfit is cozy, effortless. But there's something else in it too — something confident that I'm not use to quite yet.

I head downstairs barefoot, heart fluttering just a little. The hallway echoes quietly with music — low bass, sharp snare — growing louder as I approach the big glass doors of the main practice room.

I stop just outside, peering through.

Inside, the boys are already warming up. Chan's crouched by the speaker, tapping something into his phone. Felix is near the mirror stretching, Minho and Changbin talking off to the side. Jeongin, Seungmin, and Han are moving in sync to whatever routine they're running. And Hyunjin — Hyunjin is in the middle of the room, lost in the rhythm, graceful and focused, sweat already slicking at his hairline.

I take a deep breath and step inside, the door clicking shut behind me.

Eight heads turn.

Changbin's voice is the first to break the silence. "Well, damn."

I give them a small wave and settle on a bench on the side of the room. "Hi."

Hyunjin straightens mid-step, his eyes dragging over me — slow, deliberate, lingering. His mouth parts just slightly like he might say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, he just stares for a beat too long, and then looks away, running a hand through his hair like it might ground him.

Felix crosses the floor, a soft smile blooming across his face. He doesn't say anything right away — just pulls me into a quick, comforting hug, tucking his chin over my shoulder for a moment.

"You look perfect," he says, quiet and sincere.

I squeeze his arm, smiling up at him. "Thanks for helping me feel that way."

Chan walks over, a water bottle in hand, hair pushed back with a sweatband. He gives me that look again — the one that makes everything else around me go quiet. He holds the bottle out. "Glad you're here. We missed you."

God, this man.

"Missed you too," I say, and I mean it more than I expected.

I glance around the room as the music starts back up, the energy palpable. I shift on the bench, tucking my legs under me. Hyunjin catches my gaze one more time from across the room — something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

He smiles, just barely.

And my heart trips all over itself.

After settling on the bench, I pick up my water bottle and sip it as if I already know how thirsty this about to make me. The second the music starts — loud and pulsing and absolutely filthy — any hope of composure evaporates.

Because oh. Oh.

They move like they've been doing this their entire lives, which, in a lot of ways, they have. But it's more than just precision. It's sweat-slicked skin and sharp, fluid power. It's rhythm in their bones, sin in their hips. It's Chan on the far end of the formation, shirt already clinging to his back, veins in his arms standing out as he hits each beat like he's got a vendetta against gravity. It's Felix, his face unbothered but his movements impossibly crisp, shirt riding up to show just a flash of skin with every twist. It's Hyunjin front and center — tall, gorgeous Hyunjin — dancing like the music is a living thing crawling through his veins. When he rolls his hips into the next transition, something inside me short-circuits.

I'm suddenly, violently aware of every muscle in my body — especially the ones still sore from the night before. I shift on the bench and my breath catches because yep, still tender. But it doesn't matter. It barely registers over the fire crawling down my spine.

I'd seen clips before. Snippets on TikTok. Polished, professional performances. But this? This is raw. This is sweat and effort and total surrender. This is watching them in their most natural state — focused, commanding, devastatingly hot.

When Chan runs a hand through his damp hair between takes and flashes me a crooked grin, I almost combust.

And when Hyunjin lifts his shirt to wipe sweat from his face — exposing that perfect stretch of stomach, abs glistening — I actually groan.

Out loud.

Felix, catching the sound, glances over from where he's stretching near the mirrors. "You ok?" he asks, one brow lifted like he knows exactly what kind of danger I'm in.

"No," I whisper, fanning myself with my hand. "No, I'm not."

Felix laughs and drops onto the bench beside me. "Want me to get you some ice?"

"Want me to bite you?" I mutter.

He snorts. "So this is what we've been reduced to. Ferality."

"This is illegal. All of this."

Across the room, Hyunjin runs his hand through his sweaty hair and I want to throw myself into the sun.

Felix just leans over, bumping our shoulders together. "You survived last night. You'll survive this."

I shake my head slowly, eyes glued to Chan's back as he starts the next run-through. "I really don't think I will."

Felix jumps back up as Minho signals it's time to continue. The song changes and they start working through another, totally different, routine.

Oh, fuck me.

Why is this the hottest thing I've ever seen? Why is sweat so hot? Since when do I have a thing for sweat?

I blink, trying to reset my brain, but it's no use. The heat between my legs is insistent, throbbing in time with the bass pulsing through the speakers. Every breath I take just fills my lungs with the scent of them — clean sweat, musk, skin, man — and it's doing something devastating to my self-control.

Hyunjin throws his arms up for a move, shirt rising, armpit exposed — and something primal clicks inside me.

Oh god. Oh no. I have an armpit kink.

What the hell is wrong with me?

But I can't look away. His skin is damp, flushed, and gleaming in the low light. He smells like heat and exertion and him, and all I want to do is bury my face in that space and inhale.

I shift in my seat and the friction of my leggings is criminal. My thighs clench automatically, and my eyes flick to Chan — chest rising and falling hard with exertion, hair sticking to his forehead, glistening with sweat like a fucking dream. He throws a towel around his neck but doesn't use it. Just lets it hang there, his whole body on display, veins and tension and power.

I wonder what he'd taste like.

What they'd taste like.

God, I want to lick them. I want to straddle Chan's lap and have Hyunjin hold his wrists above his head and take turns tasting every inch of his skin. I want to press my nose into that sweat-slicked crook between Chan's neck and shoulder and moan his name like a prayer. I want to worship them.

I want their sweat on my skin.

My hand twitches in my lap and I have to physically restrain myself. I'm sitting here in public. In spandex. Already sore from last night. And I still want them.

I want them again, and again, and again until I forget my name.

Jesus Christ, this is going to be a problem.

Chapter 7

I barely register the music changing — some new track with a deeper bass and sharper rhythm — because all I can focus on is the way Hyunjin's shirt is clinging to his back. It's soaked through in patches, translucent in others, revealing the slope of his spine, the flex of his shoulder blades. And Chan — fuck. Every muscle in his arms is tense, coiled, working in perfect synchronicity with the beat. His jaw is clenched, eyes focused, lips parted just slightly with every breath.

I press my thighs together. Hard.
It doesn't help.

They're unreal. All of them. Covered in sweat, dripping sex appeal.
And I'm sitting here in a loose t-shirt and leggings, practically panting like a dog in heat.

Hyunjin spins on the next count — and his eyes find mine.
Dead on.
Not just looking — seeing. Me.
My flushed cheeks, parted lips, the death grip I've got on the edge of the bench.

His mouth tilts into the most devastating smirk I've ever seen.
He holds my gaze for just a second longer than he should — and in that second, I know. He knows.

The next beat lands, and his body hits it perfectly — but it's different now. Slower. Intimate.
Like he's dancing for me.

My pulse trips over itself.
Oh, god. I'm feral. I'm absolutely fucking feral.

I try to blink, to breathe, to look away, and that's when I catch Chan's gaze. He's watching me too — has been, maybe this whole time. His brow arches like he's amused, but the heat behind his eyes is anything but. There's no teasing in it, not really. Just possession. Hunger. And something else, deeper — something I can't name.

He doesn't speak. Just mouths something across the room, slow and deliberate.

Wait 'til we're done.

Oh, fuck.

My stomach flips. A full somersault. I press my thighs together tighter still, even though it's not helping — not even a little. If anything, the friction makes it worse. Makes me more aware of how empty I suddenly feel. How badly I want their hands, their mouths — anything, everything.

And now I'm nervous?
Now?
Like we haven't been marathon-fucking for the last few days?

But this... this is different.

The way they're looking at me — like they've already planned what's going to happen. Like every drop of sweat rolling down their necks is just a promise waiting to be fulfilled. Like they're already undressing me in their minds, already pulling my hair, already dragging their teeth across every inch of me.

Oh hell.
This is so different.
And I know it. They know it.
All three of us are sitting in this thick, electric thing — like lightning about to strike.

Hyunjin's shirt sticks to his chest now, and when he runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair, I swear I make a sound. Like, an actual sound. A tiny one. A whimper?
I want to die.

Because he hears it.
His gaze slices through the room again, lands on me, and there it is — that same look from earlier. Hungry. Dangerous.
And Chan? Chan hasn't looked away once. He's sitting on the floor now, catching his breath between sets, towel slung around his neck — and every inch of him is glistening. Tight. Buzzing with control.

He leans forward a little.
Spreads his legs.
And smiles.

I'm going to die in this dance studio.
Death by hot, sweaty men and intense eye contact.

One by one, the others start to peel away.

Changbin finishes his water, tosses a towel over his shoulder, and heads out with Jeongin and Minho. Seungmin and Han follow after a quiet exchange with Felix, who gives me a lingering glance and a knowing little smirk before disappearing behind them.

And then it's just us.

 

The door clicks shut and silence blooms like smoke — slow and heavy, curling through the space between us.

I'm still perched on the bench, thighs pressed together so tightly it almost hurts, heart pounding like I've just run a mile. I can feel them before I see them. The weight of their stares. The heat of it. I don't dare look up until I hear soft footsteps heading toward me across the studio floor.

Chan's still glistening with sweat, towel long since discarded, the collar of his tank top dark and soaked. He slows as he approaches — eyes locked on mine, lips parted like he's just barely catching his breath. Not from the dancing. From me.

Hyunjin follows a few steps behind, his damp hair clinging to his neck, his eyes darker than they were just minutes ago. He's not smiling. He looks hungry.

They close in — one in front, one behind — and suddenly I'm surrounded.

Chan sinks to a crouch between my knees. Hyunjin slides onto the bench behind me, legs bracketing mine. His arms wrap around my waist, hands splaying over my stomach as his lips brush the side of my throat.

"Still sore?" Chan murmurs, fingers trailing up my calf.

I nod, but my voice comes out thin. Breathless. "Not enough to stop this from happening."

Hyunjin hums against my skin. "You've been watching us all afternoon like you were starving."

I let out a shaky laugh. "Maybe I was."

Chan leans in, hands on my thighs, spreading them slowly apart until there's just enough space for him to move closer. My breath hitches.

Hyunjin's lips find that spot just beneath my ear and my head falls back against his shoulder.

"You looked so pretty sitting there," he whispers. "Touching your thighs. Squirming. All needy and sweet. Like you were begging for us without saying a word."

My whole body lights up.

Chan's hands slide higher. His gaze flickers over my face, then lower — to where I'm wet and straining against the tight fabric of my leggings. He glances back up and smirks.

"I think it's time we take care of you now, yeah?"

Chan's thumbs hook into the waistband of my leggings, dragging them down slowly, reverently. Hyunjin shifts behind me to help, lifting my hips gently so they can slide them off all the way.

The cool air of the studio hits my skin and I shiver, more from anticipation than chill. I hear the catch in Chan's breath when he sees the slick between my thighs.

"Fuck," he whispers, eyes dark. "You really have worked yourself up."

I don't even try to deny it. There's no point.

Hyunjin's fingers trail under the hem of my shirt, teasing the edge of my ribs, and he leans in close. "Take this off for us, angel."

I do, trembling as I peel the fabric over my head, now fully bared between them. Chan kisses the inside of my knee. Then higher. Then again, close to where I need him most, but not quite.

He looks up at me, mouth just brushing my skin. "You remember what we said, Babygirl? We want to show you how we see you. What we feel for you."

Hyunjin slides out from behind me and disappears for a second. I'm too dazed to ask where he's going, until I hear the soft sound of something scraping across the floor — and then I realize what he's doing.

He's dragged over the full-length mirror from the far side of the studio and props it against the wall. Facing us.

Facing me.

"Oh my god," I whisper, suddenly so aware of how bare I am. How open. How they're both looking at me like I'm some kind of art they've been aching to touch.

Chan's hands slip under my thighs, lifting me off the bench. He turns me to face the mirror, my legs straddling his lap now as he sinks down to the floor with me. Hyunjin kneels behind me, legs wide on either side, his chest warm against my back.

In the mirror, I see myself—flushed and trembling, caught between them—and I swear I don't recognize the woman staring back. She looks wrecked already. Adored. Beautiful.

"You see?" Chan murmurs, kissing my collarbone. "Look how fucking gorgeous you are. You deserve to be touched like this."

"And worshipped like this," Hyunjin adds, his fingers brushing up my sides, cupping my breasts with aching tenderness. "Every time."

Chan's mouth trails down my chest. His hands grip my hips, grounding me as he kisses a path lower — toward where I'm already throbbing, already soaked and aching for them. My head falls back on Hyunjin's shoulder.

In the mirror, I watch as Chan lowers his mouth to me — slow, deliberate — and the first brush of his tongue has me gasping, arching.

Hyunjin tightens his arms around me, holding me up, holding me still.

"Don't look away," he whispers. "Watch what we do to you. Let yourself see how loved you are."

"Let yourself see how loved you are."

The words hit me harder than they should — harder than I'm ready for — and I make a broken sound in my throat, not quite a sob, not quite a moan. My fingers tighten around Hyunjin's forearm where it's wrapped around me, anchoring me.

Loved. Not just wanted. Not just desired.

Loved.

And it's them saying it. The ones who've been peeling me open piece by piece since the moment I stepped into their world. The ones who've looked at me like I was made for them. The ones who touch me like prayer.

I blink through the tears that threaten to spill, my head lolling to the side as I try to catch my breath — and in the mirror, I see it: the way Chan looks up at me like he knows. Like he feels it too. Like he's on the verge of saying it out loud and doesn't know if he should.

Instead, he presses his mouth back to me.

I cry out this time, full and open, my body bucking against his tongue.

Hyunjin's voice is soft and steady in my ear. "That's it, baby. Let go. Let him take care of you."

And Chan does. He devours me like it's a promise. Like he's carving the shape of me into his memory with every flick of his tongue. One of his hands stays tight on my hip, the other sliding up my body until he finds one of my hands — trembling, useless — and laces our fingers together.

That's what undoes me.

The sweetness. The closeness.

I come with a cry that echoes off the studio walls, shaking apart between them, every muscle trembling as I grind down helplessly on Chan's mouth, my eyes locked on my own reflection — the way I fall apart in their arms.

By the time the waves pass, I'm panting, legs still twitching as Chan presses soft kisses along my inner thigh. My forehead drops back onto Hyunjin's shoulder, his arms strong around me, holding me gently through the aftershocks.

I'm still catching my breath when I feel it — a shift behind me. A different kind of tension.

Hyunjin's lips brush my temple.

"My turn."

His voice sends a shiver straight through me — low, velvet-smooth, laced with hunger. Chan's hand trails down my thigh as he shifts back, and I whimper at the loss of contact, still pulsing from the afterglow.

But Hyunjin is already moving.

He shifts behind me, easing me gently off his lap, guiding me to lie down flat on the studio floor, the coolness of it sharp against my overheated skin. My legs fall open instinctively and I see the way his breath catches, the way he drinks me in like he's starving.

Chan kneels beside me, brushing my hair back from my face, grounding me with his touch — soft, slow, present. His other hand rests lightly on my chest, right over my heart.

Hyunjin crouches between my thighs, sliding his hands up the backs of my legs, lifting them to rest on his shoulders as he leans in and kisses the inside of my knee. Then my thigh. Then the spot just to the side of where I need him most.

He takes his time. Like he's worshipping me. Like this isn't about sex at all — it's about awe.

"You look so fucking good like this," he murmurs, voice rough with restraint.

Then he licks me.

It's completely different from Chan. Where Chan was firm and purposeful, Hyunjin is fluid, teasing. His tongue flickers lightly, barely-there touches that have me gasping and arching off the floor within seconds. I can't stop watching him — long hair falling around his face, his earrings glinting in the mirror light as he moves, his mouth focused and hungry.

I feel Chan's lips graze my cheek. "You can take it, baby. Let him worship you."

Hyunjin hums against me, and the vibration makes me cry out. His hands are gripping my thighs now, keeping me still, and when he finally flattens his tongue and drags it all the way up, slow and deep — I swear I see stars.

Then he moans, like I'm the one feeding him, and it pushes me right back to the edge.

I don't even realize I'm whimpering his name until Chan says it with me, breathlessly.

"Hyunjin."

And the way he looks up at me — lips wet, eyes dark and wild — it's too much.

My whole body locks up, thighs shaking around his head, and then I'm coming again, harder this time, a cry torn from deep inside me as he works me through it with soft, perfect pressure. My hands scramble for something to hold and Chan gives me his, steady and strong and warm.

Hyunjin doesn't pull away until I'm shaking and spent, until the little sounds escaping me become too fragile to ignore. He lifts his head, kissing my inner thigh, then my hip, and slowly makes his way up my body — kissing over my ribs, my chest, my throat.

By the time he reaches my lips, I can barely hold my head up.

"Hi, angel," he whispers against my mouth.

And then he kisses me.

Hyunjin's kiss is slow and consuming, his mouth tasting like me, his body flushed and trembling with restraint. I kiss him back hungrily, still dizzy from everything he's just done to me, and it feels like falling — like giving in to something I can't possibly name.

Chan moves behind me again, stretching out against my back, his chest hot where it presses to my skin. I'm between them now — surrounded, held. And the way they look at me...

I've never felt so wanted. Never felt so loved.

"Look at her," Chan murmurs, his hand skimming down my spine. "Completely wrecked and still ready for more."

Hyunjin pulls back and smiles, brushing his thumb over my lower lip. "We should let her watch."

There's a pause.

Then Chan hums, low and approving. "Yeah. I think we should."

Hyunjin gets up first, helping me gently to my feet and guiding me over to the mirror that lines the far wall. My legs are still unsteady, but he's got me — arms around my waist, pressing kisses to my shoulder as we move.

"Sit back against me," he whispers, lowering us both to the padded floor, his legs bracketing mine. I settle between them, breathing hard, pulse thrumming under my skin.

Chan stands in front of us and begins to undress.

Every inch he reveals feels earned — like a gift. His shirt falls away, then his pants, and he's left gloriously bare, the golden light of the dance studio catching on the sweat at his collarbone, the muscles in his thighs. His cock is already hard, flushed and heavy, and when he drops to his knees in front of me, my breath catches in my throat.

"You ready for me, baby?"

I nod — speechless.

But Hyunjin is the one who answers. "She's been ready since practice started. Haven't you, angel?"

Chan strokes himself slowly, eyes never leaving mine. "Come here."

I reach for him. Hyunjin lifts me slightly, helping me onto my knees, positioning me so I'm straddling Chan now, my back still against Hyunjin's chest. I'm held in place, open and trembling, completely surrounded by them. My breath hitches as Chan lines himself up, the blunt head of his cock sliding through my slick folds once... twice...

Then he pushes in — slowly.

I cry out — overwhelmed. Chan groans, gripping my hips, and Hyunjin's hands slide up my ribs to cradle my breasts.

I can see it all in the mirror.

Me, filled so perfectly by Chan, supported and held by Hyunjin, all of us locked in this impossible, beautiful rhythm. My thighs quake as I adjust, and then Chan starts to move — slow, deep thrusts that make me keen. I'm already close again, overstimulated and aching, but I want it, I want them, all of it.

"Fuck, look at her," Hyunjin murmurs, his voice thick with awe. "She's glowing."

"You feel so good, baby," Chan grits out, his pace picking up just slightly, hitting the spot that makes me fall apart all over again. I sob into his shoulder, trembling from the force of it, and Hyunjin kisses my temple, holding me tight.

Chan thrusts a few more times before he pulls out, chest heaving. "Hyunjin. Take her."

They switch like it's choreographed — Chan supporting me as Hyunjin slides out from behind, and then I'm in his arms instead, guided carefully onto my back. Hyunjin kneels between my thighs, stroking himself as he watches me with that same hunger. Then he sinks into me in one slow, perfect motion, and my whole body arches with a cry.

Where Chan was steady and grounding, Hyunjin is intense. He rolls his hips with purpose, his forehead pressed to mine, his hands gripping mine tightly as he thrusts deep and slow, saying my name like it's a sacred thing.

"You're ours," he whispers. "Do you know that?"

I nod helplessly, moaning, clutching at him. "Yes—yes—please—"

Chan is beside us again, stroking my hair, brushing kisses to my jaw, whispering how good I'm doing, how beautiful I look stretched out for them like this. The two of them take me apart together — Hyunjin inside me, Chan cradling me from the side — until all I can do is feel.

I break apart one last time, sobbing their names, my body shuddering beneath them. Hyunjin spills inside me with a deep, gasping moan, pressing his lips to mine. Chan leans down and kisses my chest, over my heart.

They don't move for a long moment.

Just the three of us, tangled up in sweat and love and something too enormous to name.

When they finally pull away, it's slow, gentle — every touch one of devotion. Chan lifts me first, carrying me carefully toward the dorm side of the room where a couch is perched against the wall. Hyunjin brings water bottles and a hoodie for me to slip into. They clean me up tenderly, not rushing a thing.

And when I'm nestled between them, warm and soft and safe, I feel the weight of it settle in.

This wasn't just sex. This was a vow.

Hyunjin kisses my forehead.

Chan wraps an arm tight around my waist.

And for the first time in my life, I fall asleep knowing I am completely, unquestionably loved.

***

The sunlight is warm on my face when I wake, filtering softly through the curtains we picked out together. My body feels like lead — the good kind of tired — and for a moment, I just lay there, eyes closed, soaking in the hum of comfort in my muscles.

New sheets. New mattress. My new room.

My bed.

I slept here for the first time last night — really slept. Twelve full hours, if I'm guessing right. I can't remember the last time that happened.

The spot next to me is empty, but the imprint of a body is still there. I reach out without thinking, hand brushing over warm sheets, then over to the nightstand where my new phone rests charging. The screen lights up when I pick it up, and I blink at the flood of notifications.

Three unread texts.

One from Chan.
One from Hyunjin.
One from Felix.

And below those — calendar invites.

Eight of them.

I squint.

The guys have all sent me invites. Appointments labeled everything from "Dinner w/ Us 🍜" to "Hair masks and game night" to "Group movie cuddle pile?" Minho's invite just says "don't be late." Jisung's is a full-day block with seventeen emojis and zero explanation.

My heart squeezes in my chest.

I swipe to read the texts.

Chan

Morning, love. We didn't want to wake you. Hyun and I had early meetings but we'll be in the studio all afternoon. Come find us when you're up. And drink water, please. You'll need it. Hehehe. 😈💧

Hyunjin

You looked too peaceful to wake. Could've stared at you forever. Studio later. Can't wait to see you again. Miss you already. x

Felix

R u alive???
Coffee + croissants in the kitchen. Get dressed, we're hitting at least 3 stores before practice. Wear something stretchy 😏
PS: your playlist slaps, I queued it up in the car.

I smile down at the screen, warm all over. My cheeks ache from how much I'm grinning.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Still sore. Still aching. But held. Loved.

I finally peel the covers back and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, groaning softly as my feet touch the floor.

Oh. Ow.

Yep.

That soreness? Still here.

Very much here.

I wince and roll my neck, trying to shake off the ache in my thighs, hips, even my arms. Jesus. I'm not sure if I should be turned on or slightly concerned.

I stand up slowly, joints cracking, and immediately have to brace myself against the wall when a pulse of heat flickers low in my belly.

Okay. If every morning is going to feel like this, I might need to invest in a personal massage gun. Or a wheelchair. Or both.

I shuffle toward my desk to grab a hair tie when something catches my eye — a brown paper gift bag I definitely didn't leave there last night. There's a little note taped to the front in handwriting I'd recognize anywhere.

"For your first morning in your own room — figured you'd want to smell like something other than me for once. (Or not.) Either way... you're welcome. - C 🐺"

I bite my lip and pull the bag open, a little flutter rising in my chest.

Inside: a brand new bottle of Sticky Dates by LUSH — the same one I used the very first time I showered here, in Chan's bathroom. Rich and warm and stupidly addictive. Beneath that is a plush, deep brown towel, a new loofah, and a small tin of matching body lotion.

My throat tightens a little.

It's not the expensive stuff. It's not flashy. But it means something. It means he remembered. That he wanted me to feel like this room — this life — is mine now, too.

I hold the bottle up to my nose and inhale.

God. Still smells like sin and sugar and heat.

Still smells like him.

And I know, without a doubt, that I'm starting the day with a long, indulgent shower. One that may or may not include some light reminiscing about the last time I was leaning against a shower wall with this scent on my skin.

***

I make my way downstairs, dressed in soft black leggings and an oversized oatmeal-colored hoodie I found folded neatly on the end of my bed — Hyunjin's, judging by the subtle cologne clinging to the fabric. My hair is damp, my skin still faintly sticky-sweet from the body wash, and every step down the stairs is a reminder of exactly why I slept so long.

Delicious. Torturous. Worth it.

The scent of coffee hits me first — strong and a little sweet, with something nutty underneath. My stomach growls like it hasn't been fed in days.

The dorm is quiet, at least for now — a rare lull in the usual storm of movement and noise. I pad through the living room and toward the kitchen, following the smell down the hall, where Felix is perched on the counter with a mug in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling one-handed while his other foot taps rhythmically against the cabinet.

"Morning, sunshine," I call out, leaning against the doorway.

He glances in my direction, and his face lights up. "Well, look who survived."

"Barely," I croak, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl like it's the last thing keeping me upright. "I think I slept for twelve hours."

He laughs and hops down, setting his mug aside. "You earned it. You were practically vibrating out of your skin yesterday."

"Thanks for the reminder," I mumble around a bite of banana.

Felix leans against the counter, arms crossed. "I was gonna suggest we do a proper shopping trip today, but... I changed my mind."

I blink at him. "Oh?"

He gives me that mischievous grin — the one that always makes me nervous in the best way. "I'm taking you somewhere better. It's a secret."

I narrow my eyes. "You're not going to tell me where?"

"Nope. You'll like it though. Promise. And don't worry — it's not anything fancy. Just something I want to share with you."

His voice softens on the last part, and it catches me off guard. I swallow the last bite of banana and set the peel in the compost bin, brushing my hands on my leggings.

"Do I need to dress a certain way?" I ask.

Felix snorts. "You're perfect. Like that's even a question."

I roll my eyes but smile anyway. "Fine. Mystery outing it is."

He walks past me toward the door, grabbing his keys from the hook. "Bring your new phone, by the way. You're gonna want to take pictures."

"Felix—"

"Trust me," he says, glancing back at me with a wink. "You're gonna love this."

Moments later, we're in the car headed in an unfamiliar direction. Not that that means much, given that I'm still just a tourist and I have no idea where anything is.

I expect a boutique. A department store. Maybe a full retail assault complete with shopping bags and awkward changing room selfies.

What I don't expect is a quiet back street I've never seen before, with low-hanging signs and ivy climbing up the brick walls. Felix leads me there like it's a secret, glancing over his shoulder every so often with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Are we...shopping for books?" I ask, trying to read the worn Korean lettering on the awning we stop under.

He just smiles. "You'll see."

The bell above the door jingles softly as we step inside. The air smells like old paper and sandalwood. It's dim and quiet, but warm, with soft music playing somewhere in the back. There are books stacked in every direction, on shelves and in crates and even in cozy piles on the floor. Manga, graphic novels, vintage paperbacks — some in Korean, some in English, some so old they look like they might turn to dust if I breathe too hard.

Felix beams. "Welcome to my happy place."

I turn in a slow circle, taking it all in. "This is incredible."

"I thought you'd like it," he says softly. "It's where I go when I need to think. Or...not think. When I need to feel like the world's a little quieter."

I nod, understanding more than I can say out loud. "I love that."

He leads me to the back, where a little reading nook is tucked into the corner — cushions and blankets, a small table, two mugs already waiting like the owner knew we were coming. Felix drops into the cushions like he's home and pats the spot beside him.

I sit, sinking into the soft pile, and he hands me a stack of his favorites. "These are for fun. But..." He hesitates, then adds, "Also, I wanted a place to talk. Just us. Before things get crazy again."

My heart catches. "Okay."

We sit in silence for a moment, the kind that's comfortable and full of possibility. Then, without looking at me, Felix says, "It's okay to be overwhelmed, you know. By all of this. By them."

"I know," I whisper. "I am. But in the best way."

He finally meets my gaze. "You're not just a distraction for them. Or a rebound. I know it's messy and new and maybe a little fast, but...they're not playing with you."

"I don't think they are," I say quietly. "But it's scary anyway."

"Of course it is," Felix nods. "Love usually is."

I blink at him. "You think that's what this is?"

He smiles — soft, knowing. "I think you already know."

My throat tightens, emotion rising fast. I reach for his hand and squeeze it. He squeezes back.

"Thank you for bringing me here," I murmur.

"Always," he says. "You're one of us now."

And somehow, sitting cross-legged on the floor of a hidden bookstore with a boy who smells like sugar and coffee, I believe it.

***

The movie flickers softly on the screen, casting muted light across the walls of my new bedroom. The three of us are curled up on my bed — my bed — in a tangled sprawl of limbs and blankets. Hyunjin is pressed up behind me, long legs hooked around mine, chin resting on my shoulder. Chan lies on my other side, one arm slung loosely over my waist, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the curve of my hip beneath the blanket.

It's quiet except for the low hum of the dialogue and the occasional rustle of fabric when someone shifts. The smell of buttery popcorn still lingers in the air, mingling with the familiar scents of both of them. It's warm. Peaceful. Safe.

I sink into it completely, letting myself feel the weight of them around me. Held. Wanted. Home.

Onscreen, the main character says something — a throwaway line, maybe. Something about travel, about plans changing, about people who only came for three weeks and stayed for three years.

And just like that, my breath catches in my chest.

Three weeks.
That was all I gave myself.
Three weeks in Seoul.
To grieve.
To disappear.
To survive.

And now? It seems like it's been longer than that, and somehow not long at all. I'm wrapped in the arms of two men who know me in ways no one ever has. I'm sleeping in a new bed, in a new room, in a country I was never meant to stay in. And the terrifying truth crashes into me like a wave:

I don't want to leave.

I can't leave.

Panic flares, sharp and sudden. My heart stutters. My skin prickles. The movie continues on like nothing has changed, but everything has. I shift slightly, trying not to startle them, trying to quiet the roar in my head.

What happens when the clock runs out? When this turns back into a temporary thing? When they realize I was never meant to stay?

My breathing quickens.

Hyunjin stirs behind me.

"Em?" he murmurs, voice thick like he'd just fallen asleep. "You okay?"

I don't answer.

I can't.

My throat has closed, my chest constricting like something heavy is sitting on it. My pulse hammers in my ears and I'm suddenly too hot, too cold, trapped. Not by them — never by them — but by the thought of not being with them. Of having to leave.

Three weeks. That's what I told myself. Just a quick trip. Just long enough to disappear.

But now I'm here, and I'm in love. So deeply in love I don't know how I'll ever breathe the same way again.

I try to sit up, and that's when Chan turns to me, immediately alert. "Emily?" he says, his voice low, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"I can't—I—" I choke on the words. My hands are shaking. My heart is going to beat out of my chest. I press a fist to my sternum like I can physically hold myself together. "I can't do this—no, I can't leave—fuck, I can't—"

Hyunjin is up now too, leaning over me, his eyes wide. "Hey, hey, you're okay. Breathe—breathe with me, sweetheart, come on."

"I said I'd only stay for three weeks," I gasp. "That was the plan. That was all I let myself have—just time to escape—not this, not you two, not—"

Tears blur my vision. I swipe them away, but more follow, hot and fast and uncontrollable.

Chan cups my face with both hands, grounding me. "Hey. Look at me. Look at me, baby."

I do. Barely.

"You don't have to leave. You hear me?" His voice is quiet but steady. "No one is making you go anywhere."

"But—what am I even doing here? This wasn't supposed to happen—I wasn't supposed to fall in love—"

The words are out before I can stop them, before I even know I'm going to say them.

Chan freezes. So does Hyunjin.

Silence stretches between us, fragile and thunderous.

And then Hyunjin exhales, whisper-soft.

"Oh."

It's all Hyunjin says — but his voice cracks on it. Just that one syllable, and it wrecks me.

I can't stop the tears now. I'm trembling, chest heaving, face wet and hot and aching with everything I haven't said. Everything I've been too afraid to want. I sob.

"I didn't mean to," I whisper, brokenly. "I didn't mean to fall in love with you. Either of you. But I did. And now I don't know how to go back to my life. I don't want to." My voice cracks on the last word and I sob again, squeezing my eyes shut.

Hyunjin's hand covers his mouth. His eyes shimmer, already glassy, and then—just like that—he starts crying. Soft, silent tears that slip down his cheeks as he leans forward and presses his forehead to mine.

"You love us," he breathes, like it's the most sacred truth he's ever heard. "You love us."

Chan makes a small sound behind me — a wet, sharp inhale — and I turn just in time to see him scrubbing at his face, trying and failing to keep it together.

"I've been trying so fucking hard not to say it first," he says, voice thick, cracking down the middle. "I didn't want to scare you. Didn't want to make you feel like you had to stay. But I love you, Emily. I love you so much it physically hurts."

He pulls me into him, and Hyunjin follows, wrapping around my other side. I'm sandwiched between them, their hearts beating against me, tears soaking into my hair, my cheeks, their shoulders.

"I've loved you since the night Chan found you and brought you home," Hyunjin confesses quietly. "The animals surrounded you, protected you on the couch while you slept...and I knew. I just knew."

Chan's voice is hoarse. "I think I started the second I saw you in front of that convenience store. Something in me knew. And every second since then has just been...falling."

They kiss my hair, my cheeks, my temple, not frantic — precious. Like I'm theirs.

I bury myself in them. My whole body shakes, but not from fear anymore. From relief.

"You don't have to go," Chan says again, quieter this time. "We'll figure it out. You belong here."

Hyunjin pulls back just enough to look at me. "You belong with us."

And somehow, despite everything, I believe them.

I believe them completely.

Chapter 8

The smell hits me first.

Warm, savory, home.

Then I hear it - soft voices, laughter, the clink of silverware, the low hum of a pan sizzling.

For a second, I don't move. I just stay tucked in bed, tangled in new sheets and familiar soreness, eyes half-closed, listening to the sounds of the people I love most in the world... being there. Making breakfast. Like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Like I didn't sob into both of their chests last night while confessing that I didn't want to leave Seoul. That I couldn't. That I'm in love with both of them.

Eventually, I drag myself up. Everything aches, in the best possible way. I tug on a pair of leggings and a soft shirt that smells like Hyunjin - citrus and cedar - and shuffle barefoot down the hallway.

The kitchen is already alive when I walk in.

Chan is at the stove, flipping something in a pan with the kind of ease that makes my stomach flip, wearing gray sweatpants and absolutely nothing else. Hyunjin's sitting on the counter, eating strawberries out of a bowl like it's a performance, legs swinging lazily. And Felix - sweet, chaotic Felix - is dancing with a piece of toast clenched between his teeth and jam on one cheek.

Hyunjin spots me first.

His face lights up like I'm the sun.

"There she is," he says softly, sliding off the counter and padding over to me barefoot.

I melt into his arms before I can even think about it. He hugs me tight, presses a kiss to the top of my head, and then eases back just enough to look at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I breathe. "Still sleepy."

Hyunjin leans in, whispering against my ear, "They've been insufferable without you. Hurry up and eat something so we can plan your entire future."

My stomach dips at that - the word future - but I manage a smile.

I slide into the chair between Hyunjin and Felix, and Chan plates up something delicious and sets it in front of me like I'm royalty. Eggs, fruit, toast, and some kind of herby potato thing that smells like heaven.

"I could get used to this," I murmur, picking up a fork.

"You better," Chan says, his hand brushing over my shoulder as he passes behind me. "You're staying, aren't you?"

I freeze mid-bite.

Felix grabs my hand under the table and squeezes it gently. Hyunjin watches me, eyes unreadable but soft.

And I realize - this isn't just breakfast.

This is the moment before the rest of my life starts.

***

It's well past noon when we finally sit down at the kitchen table.

Breakfast bled into planning. Planning bled into stress. And now my coffee's gone cold, my back is aching from this kitchen chair, and I'm one logistics conversation away from crawling into the nearest lap and begging for someone to just make all the decisions for me.

The laptop in front of me shows a half-filled document titled: Emily's Return Itinerary. The name alone makes my stomach twist.

"Okay," Chan says, tapping at his keyboard, brows drawn tight. "Flights look open next week. We could leave Wednesday, come back Saturday."

We. We. I don't think I'll ever get over the way they say that word when it comes to me. Like it's obvious. Like there was never a version of this where I go back alone.

Hyunjin glances over at me from across the table. He's got his hair tied up in one of those effortless half-buns, the sleeves of his sweater pushed to his elbows. "Does that feel okay? Too soon?"

I shrug before I can stop myself. "It's not the timing. It's... just the whole thing."

The apartment. The stuff I left behind. The cheating ex I never confronted. I left the country without a word, and now I have to go back and be there again. Be in the space that broke me.

A lump catches in my throat.

Chan notices.

He slides his hand to the back of my neck and rubs gently, his voice low. "You won't be alone. We'll get in, get what you need, and get the hell out."

"And," Felix adds from the end of the table, legs tucked up in the chair like a contented cat, "I'm curating a playlist just for you. It's called: Emily Is A Queen And Her Ex Is Trash."

I let out a small laugh, grateful.

But the weight is still there. Even under the warmth of their attention.

"I don't even know what I want to bring back," I admit. "Some clothes, a few photos maybe. The rest I could set on fire and never think about again."

"Then that's what we do," Hyunjin says softly. "Pick what matters. Let go of the rest."

He reaches across the table and threads his fingers through mine. Warm. Sure. Anchoring.

I glance at the screen again. Then at Chan's fingers, still stroking at the back of my neck. Then at Felix, who winks at me and mouths, You've got this.

They're right. I do.

But I still can't help the whisper in the back of my mind:

You ran from that life. You ran so fast you left your favorite shoes by the door and your sanity behind. And now you have to face it all again. Face him.

Hyunjin's thumb circles gently over my knuckles. The motion is soft, rhythmic - like he knows exactly what I need to stay in the moment and not spiral. Chan's fingers never leave the back of my neck, his touch steady and protective, like he can feel the war in my chest and he's standing guard.

I take a slow breath.

"I have to go back," I say finally. My voice is low, scratchy. "I have to get the rest of my stuff. My paperwork... clothes. And-" I swallow. "I left it messy. With him."

The table goes quiet.

Felix sets his toast down, his expression sharper now. He's listening. Really listening.

Hyunjin's voice is soft, careful. "You don't have to explain, but... if you want to talk about it, we're here."

I nod. Stare at the half-eaten strawberry on my plate. "I was only supposed to be at my father's house for a week to take care of his affairs and plan his funeral service. I came home and discovered Eric's betrayal...and I just left. I've been here for almost three weeks now. Didn't plan any of this. Didn't think I'd stay. Didn't... plan to fall in love, either."

Chan exhales - shaky. Like he's been holding his breath since I walked in. His hand drifts from my neck to my shoulder, then down to hold the back of my chair, grounding me.

"I didn't tell him I was leaving," I admit. "I found out what he did... and I just left. I blocked him on everything. I couldn't even look at him. Couldn't look at that apartment. It felt like everything in it was poisoned."

Felix's jaw clenches. "You don't owe him anything."

"I know." And I do. God, I do. "But the idea of seeing him again-of stepping back into that place-it makes my skin crawl. I hate that I have to. But I do."

Hyunjin squeezes my hand, a little tighter now. "You won't do it alone."

I glance at him.

"We'll come with you," Chan adds quietly. "Whatever you need. Whenever you're ready. Just say the word."

Felix leans in, chin propped on his hand. "You want someone to keep watch outside the building with a baseball bat and a latte? Because I can be that guy."

A laugh escapes me. It's watery, cracked at the edges, but it's real. And it breaks something open - the tension that's been clinging to my ribs since I woke up. Tears well up in my eyes and I don't even make an effort to wipe them away.

"Thank you," I whisper. "All of you."

Chan leans down, lips brushing the shell of my ear. "You're not alone anymore, Emily. Whatever you walked away from... this is what you're walking into now. Us."

Hyunjin rises, still holding my hand. He tugs gently, coaxing me out of the chair. "Come on," he murmurs. "Let them talk flights and packing lists. You need a break."

I blink up at him, confused for a beat. "But-"

"Nope," Felix interrupts, already reaching for his phone. "This is my time to shine. I've got spreadsheets and a color-coded plan of attack. Go get cuddled, lovebug."

Hyunjin grins. "See? You heard the man."

He doesn't let go of my hand as he leads me into the living room. The couch is soft and familiar now - I've spent enough time curled between them on it that it's starting to feel like mine, too. Hyunjin sinks into the cushions first, legs stretched out, arms open. I hesitate for half a second before climbing into his lap, my knees on either side of his hips.

He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over us both, his hands rubbing up and down my back in slow, steady strokes. I melt against him with a soft sigh, my cheek pressed to his collarbone.

"You were really brave," he says quietly.

"I feel like I'm barely holding it together."

He shakes his head. "That's what bravery is. Feeling all of that... and saying it anyway."

I go quiet. Let the sound of Chan and Felix's voices drift in from the kitchen - the occasional clatter of a spoon against a mug, the low hum of planning, strategizing. And then there's Hyunjin's heart under my ear, steady and sure.

"You smell like my body wash," he teases after a moment.

"You left it in the bathroom."

"I was hoping you'd use it."

I snort, muffled against his chest. "You planned that?"

"Might've left it on purpose," he admits, proud and smug and so obviously fishing for affection.

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're mine."

It slips out so easily - so naturally - that it takes my breath away. I shift back just enough to look him in the eye.

His gaze doesn't waver. "You are."

My heart cracks right open.

"I'm yours," I whisper.

His smile softens, all that usual Hyunjin flare melting into something sincere and slow. He kisses me - gently this time.

And when we break apart, his hands tangle in my hair and he murmurs, "We've got you, Emily. No matter what."

Hyunjin's fingers are still in my hair, stroking gently, when I hear the faint click of the front door.

A second later, Han's voice echoes through the hallway:
"We're back! And starving. Who do we have to seduce to get fed around here?"

Hyunjin doesn't even flinch. "You could try asking nicely."

"Pass," Han replies breezily as he strolls into the living room, followed by Minho. "Where's the fun in that?"

Minho stops just inside the doorway, his eyes flicking to the sight of me curled up in Hyunjin's lap under a blanket. One brow arches in that classic, unreadable Minho way.

"Well, well," he says slowly, like he's mentally taking inventory of the entire situation. "Looks like we missed a chapter."

"Or several," Han mutters, already flopping dramatically into the armchair. "Did you guys just... level up while we were gone?"

Hyunjin just smiles, unbothered, arms wrapped snug around me. "Maybe."

I offer a shy little wave from where my cheek rests against Hyunjin's shoulder. "Hi."

"Hi, noona," Han chirps, grinning. "You look like you've been thoroughly comforted."

I groan, burrowing deeper into Hyunjin. "I've had a morning."

"Yeah?" Minho asks, crossing his arms as he leans casually against the wall. "Is that why Felix just asked me what kind of duffel bags I like for international travel?"

I peek out at him and nod. "I think I'm moving here."

Han gasps and claps his hands. "Finally! I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away from all this premium Korean man."

Minho snorts. "You're included in that, huh?"

"Obviously."

There's a beat of quiet. And then Minho walks forward and ruffles my hair gently - which, from him, feels like an emotional declaration. "Good," he says simply. "You belong here."

That makes my throat tighten unexpectedly. I smile up at him, watery but grateful.

From the kitchen, Chan calls out, "We're making a to-do list! And a packing plan! And figuring out how to navigate customs declarations for her emotional support Wolf Chan she's been sleeping with the last few nights!"

"CHAN!" I shriek, my face going up in flames.

Han nearly falls off the chair laughing, getting up and going into the kitchen.

Hyunjin just tucks me tighter against him, lips brushing the top of my head. "See? You definitely belong here."

Han strolls back into the living room like he owns it, snack bag already half-open in his hand. "You know what we need?" he says around a mouthful of chips. "Movie night. All of us."

I blink up at him from where I'm still curled against Hyunjin, and he grins like it's the most obvious idea in the world.

"Like, old-school dorm style," he continues. "Pillows everywhere. Trash snacks. Arguing over subtitles. Full chaos."

Felix pokes his head around the kitchen doorway. "Wait-yes. I'm in."

"I'll make popcorn," Chan calls, still sitting at his laptop at the kitchen table.

Han's phone is suddenly in his hand. "I'm making it official."

A second later, my phone buzzes. And again. And again.

[🐿] HAN created group chat: Movie Mayhem 🖤🍿
[🐿] HAN added: Chan, Felix, Hyunjin, Emily, Seungmin, Jeongin, Changbin, Lee Know
[🐿] HAN: Emergency movie night. 8pm. Living room. No excuses.
[🐿] HAN: Emily you're in this now. You don't get to escape.
[🧸] HYUNJIN: She's already on the couch, babe
[🧠] SEUNGMIN: Are you going to actually let us vote this time or are you picking another depressing anime again?
[🔥] CHANGBIN: I want action. Blood. Explosions.
[🐥] FELIX: Let's at least agree on snacks first??

I stare at the screen, half-laughing, heart swelling.

***

The living room is a disaster of blankets and pillows by the time I come back from grabbing a drink. Minho's commandeered the remote. Han and Jeongin are arguing about runtime limits like their lives depend on it. Hyunjin's already claimed the floor in front of the couch and is making grabby hands at me to come sit with him.

Hyunjin tugs me into his lap as I settle onto the floor, his arms wrapping around my waist like it's second nature. I lean back against his chest, letting myself sink into the comfort of him as the others continue bickering like siblings.

"I'm telling you, John Wick is the perfect group movie," Changbin insists.

"It's literally just violence," Seungmin replies flatly. "No plot. No heart."

Felix, sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a bowl of gummy candies in his lap, lifts a hand. "I'd like to formally nominate Spirited Away. For vibes."

Jeongin groans. "We've watched that three times already this year!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Felix mutters, popping a gummy into his mouth.

"Okay, okay," Han says, clapping his hands for attention. "Everyone gets one vote. Majority rules. Unless I hate what wins. Then we go with my pick."

Groans erupt from the room.

"Democracy is dead," Minho announces, deadpan.

But a few minutes later - and after a suspicious amount of side-eyes from Hyunjin, a bribe in the form of gummy bears, and Chan's quiet but firm support - the room settles on The Princess Bride.

"Wait-seriously?" I say, laughing. "That's one of my favorites."

Chan, now settled on the couch behind us, leans forward and rests a warm hand on the back of my neck. "We know."

My stomach flips. Of course they do.

As the opening credits roll, the room slowly quiets. Someone dims the lights. Snacks are passed around. I feel Hyunjin's cheek resting against the side of my head, his heartbeat slow and steady against my back. Chan shifts on the couch behind us, then leans forward again, his hand stroking softly through my hair.

It feels like being held by both of them at once.

By the time Wesley says, "As you wish," for the second time, I'm melting.

And I'm not the only one.

Han is curled up against Minho's side on the couch, head on his shoulder, fingers absently playing with the hem of his hoodie. Jeongin is leaning against Felix, who's somehow managed to fall asleep sitting up. Seungmin and Changbin are sprawled together on the giant beanbags, side-by-side, one of them lightly snoring.

It's soft. Peaceful.

A kind of intimacy I didn't know I needed.

Hyunjin murmurs something low against my ear. "This feels like a real family, doesn't it?"

I nod, unable to find words.

Chan leans down again. His lips brush my temple as he whispers, "You belong here."

The credits roll in soft silence, the room glowing dimly with the last flicker of the screen and the warm light from the hallway. No one moves at first. We're a lazy sprawl of limbs and half-finished snacks, comfortable and full, wrapped in the kind of quiet that only comes from being surrounded by people who make you feel safe.

But slowly, people begin to stir.

Jeongin nudges Felix awake with a dramatic sigh. "C'mon, hyung. You drooled on my hoodie."

"Worth it," Felix mumbles, still half-asleep as he's pulled upright.

Minho stretches like a cat, pulling Han with him as he rises. "Alright, let's herd the children to bed."

There are quiet goodnights, a few sleepy hugs. Seungmin shuffles by with his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak. Changbin offers a gentle squeeze to my shoulder in passing, murmuring, "Glad you're here, Noona," before heading up the stairs.

Within a few minutes, the house quiets again. It's just me, Chan, and Hyunjin left in the living room.

I shift slightly in Hyunjin's lap, and his arms instinctively tighten around my waist. Chan moves from the couch and drops down beside us on the floor, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands.

The silence is companionable, but there's something heavy in it too. Something thick and unspoken. I feel it settle on my chest like a weight.

Chan's eyes are soft when they meet mine. "You okay?"

I nod automatically. Then stop. Swallow hard. "Actually... I don't know."

Hyunjin rests his chin on my shoulder. "Talk to us, angel."

I inhale deeply. Exhale slower. "It's just-earlier, during the movie. I felt so... full. So safe. Like I was really part of this family. Like I finally found something I didn't even realize I was missing."

Neither of them says anything, but I feel them both drawing closer, like they're bracing for the rest.

"And now that I have it, I'm... terrified." My voice shakes. "What if I mess it up? What if this is all temporary and I just-fall apart again? I left everything behind without a plan, and now I'm building a life here like I'm not still running from something."

Chan reaches for my hand. "You're not running anymore."

"But it feels like it," I whisper.

Hyunjin shifts behind me until he can press a kiss to my shoulder. "You're healing. And sometimes healing feels like running. Like scrambling. But you're doing the hard part already - staying. Letting yourself be loved."

A lump rises in my throat. "I love you both so much it hurts. It scares me a little bit."

Chan's fingers squeeze mine. "Good. That's how I know it's real. I love you too."

Hyunjin's voice is barely a breath. "Me too. So much, Em."

I twist in their arms, blinking through tears, trying to process how quickly everything has changed. How deeply I feel this. How impossible it seems to have found this kind of love - and how utterly certain I am now that I want to stay.

"You really think I belong here?" I whisper.

Chan cups my face gently, tilting my chin until I'm looking at him. "We don't just think it. We know it."

Hyunjin wraps his arms tighter around me from behind. "You're the missing piece we didn't know we needed."

My heart cracks wide open. A sob escapes me and I brush the tears away from my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt.

Chan doesn't say a word. He just rises to his feet and leans down, sweeping me effortlessly into his arms.

I yelp in surprise, arms looping around his neck. "What are you-"

"Taking our girl to bed," he says simply, with a softness in his voice that nearly undoes me.

Hyunjin follows close behind, one hand resting lightly on the small of my back as if to anchor me there even while Chan carries me up the stairs. There's something special about the way they move now - not rushed, not playful, just... full of care. Like I'm something precious. Like I'm theirs.

We step into my room - our room, now, though I haven't said it aloud yet - and the dim light from my bedside lamp spills across the comforter, warm and welcoming.

Chan sets me down gently, like I might break, and brushes my hair from my face with one calloused thumb. "Let's get you into something comfortable, yeah?"

Hyunjin pulls open my dresser drawer, grabbing the oversized pajama tee they both know I love - the one that used to be his. The one that still smells faintly like him. I don't even have the energy to undress myself, but they help me, moving around me in a quiet rhythm. A soft laugh escapes me when I realize they're doing it like a well-practiced team.

"Is this how you imagined your night ending?" I murmur.

Chan grins, tugging the shirt down over my hips. "Honestly? It's even better."

Once I'm dressed, Hyunjin pulls back the blankets and helps me climb under them. My body still aches - all the delicious reminders of love and worship and everything else in between - but it's fading beneath a deeper comfort. A safer one.

Chan crawls in beside me first, slipping under the covers and immediately pulling me close, chest to my back. Hyunjin takes the other side, curling around me and tugging the blankets tight like he's tucking us all in.

I'm pressed tightly between them, the blankets neatly tucked in around us. I'm the filling in a deeply loved burrito.

Hyunjin kisses my forehead, his breath warm against my skin. "You don't have to be afraid. We've got you."

Chan's hand finds mine beneath the covers, threading our fingers together like it's second nature. "You're not alone, Emily. Not anymore."

Tears sting my eyes again, but they don't fall. I just nod, letting the warmth of them settle over me like the blankets already have. I'm safe. I'm home.

And for the first time since stepping off that plane, I believe it.

Chapter 9

I've never hated airports more.

It's not the noise or the lines or even the way time seems to warp under fluorescent lighting. It's the tension coiled beneath my skin. The fact that I'm walking through Incheon International Airport with two of Korea's most recognizable faces—and no one can know they're mine.

Chan walks just ahead of me, hood up, mask on, cap pulled so low I can barely see his eyes. Every time someone passes a little too close, he subtly shifts his body, shielding me without making it obvious. Hyunjin lingers behind, hands tucked into his coat pockets, beanie pulled down over his ears, sunglasses hiding half his face. He still manages to look like a runway model.

I'm sandwiched between them, but we keep space between our bodies like we're strangers. It's safer that way. For them. For us.
For now.

We'd already cleared check-in and security. No problems, thankfully. Their manager had done the impossible—fake names, private terminal access, all under the radar. But I still couldn't breathe easy. Not until we were on that plane. Maybe not even then.

Chan slows down just enough to glance back at me. The only thing visible above his mask is his eyes, warm and steady. Grounding. I nod, barely, letting him know I'm okay. Or trying to be.

This isn't just a trip. It's a reckoning.

"Remind me why we're doing this the hard way?" I ask, keeping my voice low as we reach the gate.

He tilts his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Because teleportation isn't real."

I scoff quietly. "No, I mean you two. Coming with me. You didn't have to—"

"We did." That's Hyunjin's voice behind me—low, certain, no room for doubt.

I glance back and meet his gaze. Even with the sunglasses, I can feel the weight of it.

Chan turns to face me fully. "You're not going back there alone, Em. Not for this."

The way he says it makes something catch in my throat.

A chime overhead announces the start of boarding—business class first. Of course. I tug my coat tighter around me and adjust the glasses I'm pretending are prescription. Hyunjin shifts closer. Not enough to touch, just enough for me to feel his presence.

We start walking.

My legs feel like they're made of sandbags.

The boarding pass in my hand reads Emilia Snows. Chan's said Chris Hemsworth. Hyunjin's was Hyun Go. Felix had howled with laughter when he saw them. "You're gonna get arrested for impersonation," he'd wheezed, handing Chan his fake ID. Then he'd hugged me so hard I'd nearly cried.

"I expect daily updates. Memes. Photos. Cat videos," he'd whispered. "If that bastard so much as looks at you funny, send a group text and we'll all be on the next flight out."

I'd nodded, but I hadn't been able to answer.

Now, as we step onto the jet bridge, the air feels colder. Heavier. My stomach twists when I remember what's waiting for me on the other side of the world.

The apartment.
The boxes.
Eric.

But then I feel it—Hyunjin's fingers, brushing against mine. Just a whisper of contact. A promise, quiet and steady: You're not alone.

I squeeze the handle of my carry-on a little tighter and follow Chan into the plane.

***

The hum of the plane settles into the kind of white noise that makes your thoughts louder.

We're hours into the flight now. Dinner service is done, cabin lights dimmed, curtains drawn around the business class pods. Most people are asleep. Or pretending to be. I should be too.

But I can't sleep. Not when my chest feels this tight. Not when my brain won't stop replaying the conversation I know is coming—what the hell are you doing here, Emily? Why'd you disappear? You can't just take everything.

I blink hard, pushing the thoughts away. Again.

Chan is across the aisle, tucked into the wide seat, blanket pulled up to his chest. He's not asleep either. I can tell by the way his foot keeps bouncing. He's listening to something through his AirPods—probably a podcast about leadership or sleep optimization or quantum mechanics. Who knows. His fingers are tapping rhythmically against the armrest. Always moving.

Hyunjin's beside me. We'd lifted the divider between our pods the second the flight attendants stopped watching. He's lying on his side, curled slightly toward me, one arm under his cheek, the other draped loosely across the edge of my seat like he's claiming it.

He opens his eyes and finds me watching him.

"You okay?" he whispers.

I nod. Then shake my head. "I don't know."

He shifts, sits up just enough to close the space between us. "Talk to me."

"I just..." I swallow. "It feels too quiet. Like everything's about to break open when we land, and I'm supposed to be ready for it. But I'm not. I'm scared I'm going to walk into that apartment and just—fall apart."

Hyunjin reaches out, fingertips brushing along my wrist. "Then fall apart. We'll be there to put you back together."

I breathe out, and it's shaky. "You say that like it's easy."

"It's not. But it's true."

Across the aisle, Chan's watching us now too. He pulls out his AirPods and leans slightly over the partition. "Do you want to come over here?" he asks gently. "Both of you?"

My heart stutters. "Are we allowed to?"

He grins behind his mask. "You think they're gonna stop us?"

Hyunjin's already up, holding his blanket like a cloak, eyes playful. He crosses the aisle and flops into Chan's pod, and there's just enough room for me to curl up on Chan's other side if we all squeeze in close.

So I do.

The second I settle between them, it's like the tension starts to lift. Hyunjin rests his head on my shoulder. Chan's hand finds mine beneath the blanket, lacing our fingers together like it's the easiest thing in the world.

No words. Just warmth. Just quiet.

Chan turns his head and presses a kiss to my temple, so soft I almost miss it.

"We're proud of you," he murmurs. "For going back. For facing this."

Hyunjin nods against my arm. "And we're not letting you do it alone."

The landing jolts me out of a half-sleep I barely remember slipping into.

The three of us had stayed curled together as long as we could get away with it—blankets tucked strategically, whispered nothings passed between sleepy kisses, fingers never quite letting go. Eventually we'd had to shift, separating just before the flight attendants started their final sweep.

Now, as the wheels screech against the tarmac, my stomach flips. And it's not the turbulence.

It's being back.

The cabin lights flicker back to life. Chan stretches in his seat across from me, rubbing the back of his neck like he already regrets existing. Hyunjin yawns so wide it makes my eyes sting, and then he winks at me like he knows.

"Welcome home," he says softly.

I don't know if he means it sincerely or sarcastically. I don't know how I feel about it.

Is this still home?

We shuffle through customs quietly. Sunglasses on, heads down. Chan takes the lead, speaking with a practiced ease when necessary, but mostly letting our paperwork do the work. He doesn't say it, but I know he's already memorized every possible emergency exit, every backup plan in case someone recognizes them.

No one does.

Not here.

Raleigh is safe, in its own way. Quiet. Boring. Familiar in the way childhood bedrooms are when you've outgrown them.

Hyunjin pulls my suitcase off the carousel before I can, hand already out for mine too. I let him. I'm too tired to argue, and truthfully, it feels good to let them take care of me for a little while.

Outside, the southern air hits me like a damp memory—warm, humid, and too soft around the edges. I inhale and instantly regret it. It smells like summer and pavement and a version of me I don't want to resurrect.

A black SUV waits at the curb. Chan's manager arranged it all—driver included, no questions asked. The windows are tinted darker than legal, and the second we slide inside, it's like the whole outside world drops away.

I sag into the leather seat between them. Hyunjin rests his head against mine. Chan slips his hand onto my thigh, grounding me without a word.

"You okay?" Chan murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear over the low hum of the car.

"No," I say. Then: "But I will be."

The hotel is twenty minutes from the airport. It's gorgeous. Way too nice for the area. Sleek and modern, tucked into the edge of downtown with a private entrance and a name I'd never heard of before, which is exactly why Chan booked it. Hidden in plain sight.

Our suite is enormous.

Two bedrooms. A full kitchen. Living room with huge windows and blackout curtains already drawn. The second the door shuts behind us, I exhale like I've been holding my breath since takeoff.

Shoes come off. Bags hit the floor. Chan tosses his hoodie onto the couch and collapses like a man who hasn't slept in a week. He probably hasn't. Hyunjin beelines for the fridge and finds the complimentary bottled water, tossing one to each of us before taking the biggest gulp I've ever seen.

I stand in the middle of the living room, feeling half-unreal. Like I've stepped into some strange pocket of time where nothing quite makes sense yet.

Chan watches me from the couch, head tilted.

"Em?"

"Yeah?"

"You're home," he says gently.

I nod.

But in this moment, home isn't this city. Or that apartment I haven't seen in months. Or the memories clawing at the edges of my brain.

It's here.

Chan, sprawled out and still watching me like I'm the most important thing in the room. Hyunjin, stretching on the rug with his shirt riding up and his hand reaching for mine without even looking.

Them.

This.

Us.

I sit down between them and finally let the weight of it all settle over me.

Ordering room service is the first truly normal thing we've done all day. And somehow, that makes it feel sacred.

We argue quietly over waffles and bacon while I half-lie across the couch, my legs tangled with Chan's and my head leaning into Hyunjin's shoulder. The menus are unnecessarily fancy—thick pages with gold trim, like that makes the food taste better.

Chan squints at a listing. "What's... chicken and waffles?"

"You're joking," I say flatly.

He blinks. "I mean—I've heard of it, but I've never had it."

"You're definitely getting it," Hyunjin says, flipping the page with purpose. "We didn't come all the way to America to be basic."

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. "You two are adorable."

"You love it," Chan says.

God help me, I do.

The food arrives in record time. We pull the trays onto the coffee table and eat sitting on the floor like teenagers at a sleepover. Waffles, eggs, bacon so crispy it shatters, maple syrup in tiny glass bottles. They make fun of the portion sizes until Chan nearly moans over his third bite of cornbread.

I don't talk much. Not because I don't want to, but because watching them like this—so happy, so them—makes something loosen in my chest that I didn't realize had been clenched since we touched down.

After a while, Chan nudges me gently with his knee. "Hey."

I glance up. His expression is soft. Careful.

"We were thinking," he says. "If it's not too much... maybe tomorrow, if you feel up to it—you could show us around? Not all the painful stuff. Just... whatever doesn't hurt."

Hyunjin swallows his last bite of waffle and nods. "We don't want to push you. But we also don't want to act like this part of your life didn't happen."

I blink hard, throat tightening unexpectedly.

"This isn't really home," I say quietly, more to myself than to them. "It never was. Just... where I ended up. With him."

They're silent for a beat. Just long enough to make the air feel heavy again. But then Hyunjin reaches over and threads his fingers through mine, warm and steady.

"Then let us help you rewrite it," he says. "Even if it's just for a day."

Chan leans in on my other side. "One coffee shop. One tree. One weird, overly patriotic gas station. That's it."

I huff a quiet laugh, pressing the heel of my hand to my eyes before the tears can fall. "Ok, there are a few places we could go. But it's nothing special, I promise."

They both perk up, smiling like two happy little puppies.

Hyunjin practically bounces in place. "Is there a Target nearby? I want to see the motherland."

"Oh my god," I groan, half-laughing. "We are not going to Target as a cultural experience."

"Why not?" Chan grins, shameless. "I've only ever seen them in memes and YouTube hauls. I need to know if the vibes are real."

"Okay, fine," I say, wiping under my eyes with the cuff of my sweatshirt. "But if I'm showing you Target, then you're also getting the real tour."

Chan raises a brow. "Real as in meaningful? Or real as in... a little tragic?"

"Real as in," I pause, thinking, "the grocery store I used to walk to because I didn't have a car. The coffee shop where I filled out job applications. The park where I used to sit for hours because I didn't want to go back to that apartment."

The room goes quiet again—but this time, it's not heavy.

Hyunjin squeezes my hand. "Then those are exactly the places we want to see."

I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat. "You sure you don't want to just go sightseeing in Asheville or something?"

Chan chuckles, leaning his head against my shoulder. "Em. We didn't come here to play tourist. We came for you. If that means Target and emotional landmarks, then that's what we want."

I lean back into them, resting my head on Hyunjin's shoulder while Chan's fingers trail absentmindedly over my knee beneath the blanket. My eyes start to flutter closed.

"We'll go tomorrow," I mumble. "But no taking pictures of me crying in the Target parking lot."

"No promises," Hyunjin whispers, smiling against my temple.

Chan kisses the top of my head. "You'll look beautiful even then."

And just like that, for the first time since we landed, I let myself drift. Wrapped in warmth. Held by two people who make even the broken places feel sacred.

***

The next morning dawns a little too bright, a little too early, and entirely too real. But after coffee, a hot shower, and watching Hyunjin try to use the hotel's iron like it was a live weapon, I manage to pull myself together enough to slide behind the wheel of a rental car and point us toward the first stop on the Great American Healing Tour: Target.

The sun is barely up, golden and soft across the vast expanse of asphalt as we pull into the Target parking lot, and I swear—swear—they gasp in unison.

I glance at them, eyebrows raised. "It's Target."

"The Target," Hyunjin breathes from the backseat, like we've reached a mythical pilgrimage site. "Emily, it's enormous. Is this normal?"

"Yup."

Chan cranes his neck, eyes wide, mouth slightly open as he takes it all in. "It's like... the size of three convenience stores stacked on top of each other and stretched sideways."

"That's called a strip mall," I deadpan. "Welcome to the American South."

Chan leans forward between the seats like a kid seeing Disney World for the first time. "It's so... big."

"Why is it red?" Hyunjin asks, nose practically pressed to the window. "Like aggressively red. Is it angry?"

"It's Target," I say, already laughing. "It's supposed to feel like a fever dream."

We get out, and they're both looking up at the facade like it's the Sistine Chapel. One of them mutters something reverent in Korean that I don't catch. I'm too busy watching their expressions morph from awe to giddy disbelief.

Hyunjin spins a slow circle in the parking lot, arms outstretched. "This is where dreams are made."

He's halfway to the front doors when he stops short, grabbing Chan's arm and pointing like he's just spotted a wild animal in the distance. "Is that a Starbucks inside the building?"

"Yup."

"There's a café inside your grocery-and-pants store?" Chan blinks.

"And it sells cake pops shaped like dogs," I add.

They both freeze.

"No," Hyunjin whispers.

I keep walking. "You'll see."

As soon as we pass through the automatic doors, they gasp in unison like the air conditioning alone has blessed them. The smell hits instantly—roasted espresso, popcorn, too much synthetic plastic and body spray—and Chan immediately starts pivoting in circles, taking it all in like we just stepped into Versailles.

Chan grabs my arm. "Emily. Emily, we can get shampoo, socks, and a latte all in the same place?"

"AND a pack of Oreos," I say. "And a toaster. And a mini waffle maker. And a five-dollar candle that smells like vanilla trauma."

Hyunjin clutches his chest. "This is the most magical place I've ever been."

He grabs a cart, looks at it like it's a spaceship, and then immediately climbs onto the bottom bar like a child. "Push me."

I push him. Obviously.

He glides down the main aisle, hair fluttering, grinning like a madman while Chan drifts to a nearby display of home goods and picks up a neon orange throw pillow shaped like a corgi's ass.

"Do people actually live like this?" he asks, muffled as he smushes it against his face.

"Welcome to my nightmares," I say.

"I want five," he says.

In under three minutes, our cart contains: a fake plant named Charles, a seasonal candle that smells like "campfire nostalgia," a pack of novelty Band-Aids, two packs of fuzzy socks, and a book titled Coping Through Crafting.

I hold it up. "Seriously?"

Hyunjin takes it from me and flips through the pages. "This could help you, emotionally."

"I am not decoupaging through my trauma."

"I am," he says, deadpan. "You can't stop me."

We make it to the Starbucks counter and I order for all three of us—mostly to spare them trying to pronounce "venti" in front of the sleepy cashier. Chan pulls out his phone and immediately starts snapping pictures of the pastry case like he's documenting evidence.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mutters. "This is just inside the store?"

"Did you think I was lying?" I sip my drink and smirk.

He takes a long pull from his iced Americano, eyes fluttering closed in what looks suspiciously like a moment of deep spiritual peace.

Hyunjin clutches his latte like it's a warm puppy. "This place is dangerous. If I lived here, I'd come in for toothpaste and leave with a new couch."

"You say that like I haven't done exactly that," I mutter, poking through the impulse-buy bins. "Once I came in for trash bags and left with a waffle maker, a bathrobe, and three sets of fairy lights."

Chan pats my back. "You're doing amazing, sweetie."

We wander through the store for a while, not because we need anything, but because they're so fascinated. Hyunjin stops to inspect every ridiculous t-shirt he sees ("Why does this one say 'Hotter than your WiFi?' Who is that for?") and Chan gets genuinely distracted in the candle aisle for ten full minutes, muttering things like, "How does this one smell like regret?" and "I need this for the dorm."

I let them lead, watching them soak it all in like wide-eyed tourists, and even though we're just in a Target in the middle of suburban North Carolina... I feel weightless.

Like nothing's broken. Like it's just a Saturday morning, and these two beautiful, absurd men are mine.

At one point, Chan pushes the cart up beside me and sets a pair of absurdly fluffy, bright yellow slippers in the child seat.

I give him a look.

He shrugs. "They looked like you."

Hyunjin peeks over his shoulder. "They look like Big Bird."

"And?"

I sigh, smiling. "Put them in the cart."

We round the corner to the clothing section, and I'm flipping through a clearance rack of oversized hoodies when I hear Hyunjin gasp like someone just proposed to him.

"NO."

I turn to see him holding up the ugliest pair of sunglasses I've ever seen—bright pink cat-eye frames bedazzled within an inch of their life. He fumbles for his phone, frantic.

"What are you doing?" I ask, already laughing.

He waves me off. "Emergency. Felix needs to see this."

He FaceTimes him on the spot, pacing in circles near the seasonal section. When the call connects, Felix answers mid-bite of something, eyes bleary like he just woke up.

"Hyung? It's like 9PM here—why are you—what is that on your face?!"

Hyunjin shoves the sunglasses onto his nose, poses like a diva, and says in a mock-deep voice, "Tell me these aren't the most Felix-core glasses you've ever seen in your life."

Felix blinks. Then cackles.

"Bro. You look like a rich aunt who drinks rosé for breakfast."

"I am a rich aunt who drinks rosé for breakfast," Hyunjin fires back proudly. "Should I buy them for you?"

"Obviously," Felix says. "Get a matching pair for Emily."

"Done."

I raise both hands in protest. "Absolutely not."

Hyunjin grins at the camera, eyes sparkling. "She loves them. She's emotional."

Felix squints. "Is she crying?"

Hyunjin nods solemnly. "She's weeping over the fashion."

"Tell her I said good luck with the trauma stuff tomorrow," Felix adds, voice softening a little. "And I want pictures of everything. Especially you in those glasses."

Hyunjin blows a kiss at the screen. "Miss you already."

"Go buy your drama lenses, Auntie. Love you guys."

The call ends, and Hyunjin tosses the sunglasses into the cart like it's fate.

"I hate you," I tell him, smiling.

"You love me," he sings, already heading toward the next aisle. "Come on, Emily. We have accessories to match."

Target: healed me a little.

Or at least reminded me that even here—in the middle of a parking lot filled with heat waves and memories I'd rather forget—I can still find new ones. Ones that make me laugh until my stomach aches.

On the way to the car, Chan bumps his shoulder into mine. "Best cultural experience I've ever had."

Hyunjin adjusts his sunglasses and lifts his cup like a toast. "Target supremacy."

And even though I know what's waiting for us later—what I'll have to face—I let myself enjoy this, just a little longer.

By the time we leave Target, our cart is full of things we absolutely did not need and memories I absolutely did. And after watching Hyunjin and Chan bounce down the sidewalk like two over-caffeinated golden retrievers in pastel joggers and matching sunglasses, I figure they've earned their next cultural experience.

So I take them to Bojangles.

Chan squints up at the menu like it's in an entirely different language. "What's a... Bo Berry Biscuit?"

"A religious experience," I say.

Hyunjin leans forward on the counter, jaw slack as he reads aloud, "Cajun chicken filet... with pimento cheese? What is this place?"

"God's favorite fast food chain," I tell them.

The poor teenager behind the counter is trying to keep a straight face while taking our order. To his credit, he doesn't flinch when Hyunjin asks if the iced tea is "actually sweet, or just American sweet, which is like lying."

I order for all three of us to spare the poor kid the trauma, and we shuffle to a corner booth with a tray of fried gold and a mountain of biscuits. Hyunjin immediately peels one open, sniffs it, then makes a noise so obscene I have to kick him under the table.

"Okay, wait, this is actually insane," he says with his mouth full.

Chan takes a huge bite of his Cajun chicken sandwich and lets out a low, appreciative hum.

"Okay. This is better than sex," he mumbles, already chewing.

"Excuse me?" I say, eyebrow raised.

He's pointing at the sandwich with wild eyes. "This. Is. Better."

And then, suddenly, he freezes.

"Oh no."

Hyunjin pauses mid-bite. "What?"

Chan swallows hard, blinking rapidly. "Oh no, no, no, no—why is it attacking me?"

His whole face goes red in real time, ears practically glowing. He grabs his sweet tea and chugs half of it in one go.

Hyunjin watches him, completely amused. "Hyung, you love spicy food."

"I do!" Chan gasps, wiping sweat off his brow with a napkin. "But my body betrays me! My soul is Korean but my taste buds are Australian!"

I snort so hard I nearly choke on my own biscuit. "It's literally mild, babe."

Chan glares at the sandwich like it personally offended him. "It lied to me."

Hyunjin offers him a fry, voice innocent. "Want something to cool your mouth down?"

"It's covered in hot sauce."

"Exactly."

Chan groans and presses a biscuit to his cheek like an ice pack. "I'm never trusting food again."

"You say that every time," I say.

"And yet," Hyunjin adds, gesturing to the half-eaten sandwich still in his hand, "he's going back in."

Chan scowls, then takes another bite like the stubborn little masochist he is—sweating, sniffling, and loving every second of it.

They go quiet for a few minutes, too focused on their food to speak, and I just sit back and watch them—Chan licking honey butter off his fingers, still sweating from the heat of his sandwich, and Hyunjin carefully peeling the wrapper off a Bo Berry Biscuit like it's a sacred scroll.

This is what healing looks like, apparently. A booth at Bojangles, two boyfriends in sunglasses too big for their faces, and the soft kind of laughter that bubbles up even when you thought you were too tired to feel anything good.

"You really lived here?" Chan asks eventually, dipping a fry in BBQ sauce.

"Yeah," I say. "Not far from here. We could drive past the apartment if you want."

He looks at me gently. "Only if you want."

I nod once. "Soon. But not yet."

Hyunjin leans across the table and brushes a crumb from my cheek. "We've got time."

Hyunjin's words settle over me like a warm blanket. We've got time.

It's such a simple thing. But for so long, I didn't believe I had any. Not time to grieve, or process, or even pause. Not with Eric constantly moving the finish line, redefining what I was allowed to feel.

But here, in this greasy booth, with the scent of fried food clinging to our clothes and their knees brushing mine under the table, I let myself breathe. Not for them. For me.

I reach out, resting a hand on each of theirs—one warm and sticky with honey butter, the other still cradling a half-eaten biscuit.

"Thanks for coming with me," I say quietly.

Chan squeezes my hand, his thumb stroking gently across the back of it. "We wouldn't be anywhere else."

Hyunjin flashes me a soft, powdered-sugar smile. "Besides. You promised to show us the weird gas station."

I huff a laugh. "You'll regret that."

"No," Chan says, dead serious. "You will regret showing us."

And just like that, the weight in my chest eases a little more. There's still a lot to face. But at least I don't have to face it alone.

By the time dinner rolls around, the hotel room looks like we've been living in it for a week instead of one day. Shopping bags cover the armchair in the corner. Chan's unpacked his laptop and charger like he's planning to work, and Hyunjin is sprawled across the bed with the Target bags, filming a full "haul" for absolutely no one but Felix.

"Okay," he says, waving dramatically to the camera like he's launching a YouTube career. "First up, we have these iconic sunglasses, purchased in a moment of divine intervention and emotional clarity."

He holds them up, still wearing the matching pair on his own face.

"Next," he continues, grabbing the pink cat-shaped tumbler I definitely didn't need but somehow ended up buying, "hydration, but make it unreasonably cute."

Chan's sitting beside me on the couch, flipping through the room service menu like it personally offended him. "Why is every hotel burger seventeen dollars?" he mutters.

"Because capitalism," I say, resting my head on his shoulder.

"I'm not paying that much for a burger unless it tells me I'm pretty first."

"You are pretty," Hyunjin calls without looking up from his bag of snacks. "Now pick a pasta and stop whining."

Chan shoves the menu toward me like a hot potato. "Emily, you choose. You're the one who's normal."

"You literally ate two entire Bo Berry Biscuits after yelling at your chicken sandwich, saying that it lied to you," I say.

"And I stand by it," Chan deadpans.

Hyunjin flips the camera to selfie mode. "Day one of North Carolina: I bought ridiculous sunglasses, watched my boyfriend cry over a chicken sandwich, and found out Emily has the fashion sense of a divorced woman rediscovering herself."

"Hey!"

Chan gasps. "That's exactly her aesthetic."

Hyunjin cackles as I throw a pillow at him, which he dodges like a gremlin and keeps filming.

I finally point to something on the menu. "Let's just get a bunch of stuff and share. Pizza, fries, maybe that overpriced mac and cheese Chan was judging?"

Chan hums. "That does look good...and a burger, I want a burger. Even if it's overpriced."

"And a dessert," Hyunjin adds, rolling onto his back dramatically. "We need sugar to survive the emotional arc tomorrow."

I grab the hotel phone, dialing for room service while my two ridiculous soulmates start rating the snacks we bought on a scale of "Felix would eat this" to "Felix would cry if he saw this."

By the time the food arrives, I know we're going to have leftovers for days — and I wouldn't trade this moment for anything.

Later on, we're curled up together in bed, the hotel TV casting a soft, flickering glow across the room. The movie playing is something none of us are really watching — some animated animal adventure that Hyunjin insisted on before promptly falling asleep halfway through.

He's out cold now, starfished across the bed with his head tipped back against the pillows and a blanket half kicked off. And he's snoring.

Loudly.

It's almost impressive, honestly. Like, we're-going-to-get-a-noise-complaint level impressive.

Chan glances over at him and grins, clearly fighting laughter. "He always snores like this when he eats too much sugar."

I nestle closer into his side, my cheek against his chest. "How do you even know that?"

"I've known him since he was sixteen," he whispers, stroking his fingers gently through my hair. "We've had more sleepovers than I can count. Also, he once fell asleep in a candy store in Japan and scared an entire group of children."

That makes me giggle, soft and tired. "That sounds like him."

We fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, the kind that only really happens when you're full, warm, and wrapped in someone you trust.

Chan's hand slides slowly up and down my arm, his thumb tracing circles. "Tomorrow's gonna be a lot."

I nod. "Yeah."

"You okay?"

I'm quiet for a beat, listening to Hyunjin snuffle in his sleep beside us, the low hum of the TV, the steady beat of Chan's heart under my ear.

"I think so," I say honestly. "I mean, I'm nervous. And it's going to suck, seeing him. Seeing all of it again. But... I feel better with you guys here."

Chan presses a kiss to the top of my head. "We're not going anywhere."

I tilt my head to look up at him. "Thank you. For coming with me. For... making it something more than just awful."

He smiles softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You've been surviving alone for too long. It's our turn to help carry some of it."

I blink back the burn in my eyes and reach up to kiss his jaw.

Behind us, Hyunjin lets out a snort and rolls over, whacking Chan in the stomach with his arm.

Chan wheezes. "He's trying to kill me in his sleep."

I bury my face in Chan's chest, laughing quietly.

Chan kisses my hair again and pulls the blanket higher over all of us. "Get some rest, angel. We'll get through tomorrow together."

And with Hyunjin snoring on one side and Chan holding me steady on the other, I believe him.

The next morning, I wake slowly, warm and tangled between the two of them, the room still quiet in that soft, gray sort of way it gets just before sunrise. Hyunjin's arm is slung over my waist, dead weight and heavy with sleep. Chan's behind me, one leg hooked over mine and his breath steady against the back of my neck.

For a moment, I think about staying like this. Pretending we're anywhere else. Pretending today doesn't exist.

But my phone buzzes on the nightstand.

I reach out blindly and grab it, shielding the screen under the blanket to keep from waking either of them. One new message.

Felix 💫: video message (00:39)

I tap it open and immediately see his grinning face, backlit by the soft yellow glow of the dorm kitchen.

"Good morning, lovebirds!" he whisper-shouts, waving to the camera with jazz hands. "Just wanted to send a little reminder that you are ✨beautiful✨, you are ✨strong✨, and you are absolutely going to slay the emotional rollercoaster that is today."

He pauses to sip from a mug that says World's Okayest Dancer, then grins again. "Also, Chan, if you cry before Emily does, you owe me bubble tea. And Hyunjin, if you cry first, I want video proof because I will never let you live it down."

The camera wobbles as he adjusts it, revealing a sleepy Han stumbling into frame behind him, shirtless and clearly regretting all of his life choices.

"Tell them good luck," Felix says, turning the camera.

Han squints blearily. "Don't die. Bring me something from Target."

Felix turns the camera back to himself. "You heard the man. Anyway — you've got this. You're not alone. Text me if you need a distraction. Or a meme. Or a picture of Changbin's socks. I have options."

He blows a kiss. "Love you. Go be brave."

The video ends, and I just stare at the screen for a second, my heart doing that annoying warm-squeeze thing it always does when Felix gets all soft like that.

Behind me, Chan shifts slightly. "Was that Felix?"

I nod, biting back a smile. "Yeah. He said if you cry first, you owe him bubble tea."

A low, sleepy chuckle rumbles against my back. "Of course he did."

Hyunjin lets out a tiny snore behind me, then mutters something incoherent into his pillow.

I tuck the phone under my arm, holding it close. "I'm really glad he sent that."

Chan kisses my shoulder, barely more than a breath. "He's the best."

"Yeah," I whisper. "He really is."

***

What do you even wear to face your ex?

Not like... run into him at the grocery store ex. This is walk into the apartment you used to share, pack up the pieces of your life, maybe cry on the floor a little ex. Cheated on you while you were burying your father ex.

So. Yeah.

I stand in front of the hotel closet with my arms crossed, staring at the limited options I brought like they might arrange themselves into something appropriate for emotional combat. Chan and Hyunjin are still in bed, whispering quietly and letting me have space. I can feel their eyes on me, gentle but watchful.

I hold up a pair of jeans. Too casual. A black dress. Too formal. A hoodie. Too me.

"What does one wear to reclaim their dignity and also possibly yell?" I ask aloud.

Chan sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Something that makes you feel confident."

Hyunjin nods solemnly from the other side of the bed, hair an absolute mess. "Something you can cry in and fight in. Dual purpose."

I sigh, turning back to the closet. "You're both very helpful."

In the end, I settle on high-waisted black jeans, a fitted t-shirt that says 'Soft but Will Cut You' across the chest (a gift from Hyunjin), and the oversized denim jacket that still smells like Chan's laundry detergent.

It's nothing special. But I feel solid in it. Grounded. Like myself, but stronger.

Hyunjin whistles low when I walk out of the bathroom. "Yep. You're gonna destroy him."

Chan just nods, eyes soft and proud. "And you'll look hot doing it."

"Great," I mumble, tugging the jacket sleeves down over my hands. "That's exactly what I was going for."

But when they each reach out for me — Hyunjin lacing his fingers with mine, Chan pressing a kiss to the top of my head — I do feel braver. A little steadier.

Ready enough.

***

The car doors shut with three soft clicks, but they echo louder in my chest than they should.

We're standing in front of it now. The apartment building.

It's not big or particularly impressive. A little run-down. Tan brick. Two stories. A cracked sidewalk that I used to trip over every time it rained. The same faded "No Loitering" sign still hanging crooked above the entryway.

And yet it feels so much taller than I remember.

Hyunjin is silent at my side, his hand brushing mine, warm and steady. Chan stands just a step behind me, close enough that I can feel the weight of his gaze on the back of my head. They're not saying anything — just waiting. Letting me be the one to move first.

The breeze is soft, but it carries a scent I hadn't realized I missed. Magnolia trees and pavement. Carolina air. It's a strange sort of homesick, a dissonant ache for something I never wanted back.

My stomach knots.

From here, I can see the window of what used to be our bedroom. The blinds are open. There's a plant on the windowsill — one of the ones I left behind. Alive, somehow.

I inhale through my nose, hold it, let it out slow.

"I used to hate coming home," I say quietly. "I'd sit in the parking lot some nights just... staring. Trying to talk myself into going inside."

Chan shifts, the sound of his shoes soft against the pavement. "You don't ever have to go back there alone again."

I nod. I know.

I take one step forward, then another. The gravel crunches beneath my boots. It's not courage, exactly. Just momentum. A choice.

Hyunjin falls into step beside me without a word, and Chan follows close behind.

The three of us, together, walking toward the past.

Not to relive it.

To reclaim it.

Chapter 10

The elevator dings.

Too soft a sound for the way my heart's thudding in my chest. It's like my body knows exactly where we are before my brain can catch up.

Second floor. East wing. Beige carpeting that always smelled faintly of bleach and somebody else's dinner. The same burned-out light above the exit sign. Same scuff marks along the baseboards from years of move-ins and regrets.

I step out first.

I don't mean to. I just... do.

It's muscle memory, maybe. Or something more like instinct. I'd walked this hallway a hundred times — arms full of groceries or laundry or pieces of my life I was trying to keep together. But never like this. Never with two shadows flanking me like anchors.

Chan's hand brushes the small of my back. Hyunjin's fingers ghost along mine.

And then we're there. Apartment 2B.

The door looks exactly the same. Same tiny dent near the bottom from when I accidentally kicked it while carrying too many Amazon packages. Same peeling black numbers. Same cheap silver knob I used to stare at while unlocking it, praying I wouldn't find proof of the things I was already afraid of.

I'm not breathing.

Chan notices. His hand settles more firmly against my spine.

"You're here now," he murmurs, voice low and steady. "Not back then."

I swallow. Nod once. My palm itches where the key rests in it, cold and familiar and heavier than it should be.

Hyunjin steps closer. "You don't have to do anything until you're ready."

But I am ready.

Not because I want to be. Not because I'm not scared.

But because I have to be. This chapter needs to end before the next can truly begin.

I slide the key into the lock. It sticks, just slightly, like always. I jiggle it the same way I used to. The muscle memory hits like a punch to the ribs.

The bolt turns.

And I exhale.

The door creaks open.

Not dramatically. Just enough to make the moment feel more intimate than it should. The kind of quiet that feels loud in your bones.

I don't move at first.

The smell hits me — that stale, specific kind of apartment scent. A little dust. A hint of whatever cheap cologne Eric used to drown himself in. Faintly synthetic. Cold. The windows must've been closed for days.

Behind me, neither of them says a word.

I step inside.

The light from the hallway spills over the threshold, casting long shadows across the floorboards. Everything's still exactly how I left it. My old throw blanket is folded over the back of the couch, the same one I bought on a whim during a fall sale. One of my mugs — the chipped one that said Rise & Slay — sits abandoned on the kitchen counter.

Like time froze mid-sentence.

My throat tightens.

Chan steps in behind me, slow and cautious, like he's afraid of breaking something that's already broken. Hyunjin's hand finds mine again — grounding, gentle, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles in a rhythm that says you don't have to say anything. I'm here.

We stand like that for a long moment.

Just breathing.

I thought it would feel worse.

But it doesn't feel like anything at all. Just a place I used to survive in.

There's a sound—something shifting just past the kitchen. A floorboard creaks.

And then he appears.

Eric.

Barefoot, unshaven, still wearing that smug, punchable face like it's a designer accessory. He stops mid-step when he sees us—three people frozen in the doorway of what used to be my life.

I feel Hyunjin tense beside me. Chan shifts slightly, like he's ready to move in front of me if he has to. But I stay where I am.

Eric's eyes land on me first. Then flick to Chan. Then Hyunjin. Confusion flickers across his face for half a second—then something uglier.

"Well," he says, dragging the word out like a knife. "Didn't expect you to grow a spine. Or... two backup dancers."

I don't flinch. Not anymore.

"I came to get my things," I say. My voice is even. Firm. "That's it."

He snorts, arms crossing over his chest. "Your things? You mean the crap you left behind when you ghosted me? Right, how could I forget. You storm out, block me on everything like some dramatic teenager, and now you just waltz back in with your... boyband rejects?"

Chan shifts. I see the twitch in his jaw.

Hyunjin's grip tightens on my hand.

Eric steps forward, tone sharpening. "You really couldn't handle being alone for five minutes, could you? Had to go run into someone else's bed to feel important?"

My stomach twists, but I don't back down.

"I buried my father, Eric," I say coldly. "And you were fucking someone else while I was doing it."

That shuts him up for a second. Just a second.

He blinks, then scoffs. "Oh, please. Like you didn't know it was already over. You weren't exactly thrilling to come home to, Em. You think they'll stick around when they figure that out? When the shine wears off? Or are they just here to do your heavy lifting and get laid?"

Chan takes a step forward.

Not fast, not loud. Just one slow, deliberate step.

"Don't talk to her like that."

Eric looks him up and down. "Who the fuck are you?"

Chan just stares. Calm. Unblinking. That quiet, dangerous stillness he carries when something really matters.

"I'm someone who loves her," he says. "And you should be grateful it's me standing here, and not someone with less patience."

Eric laughs, short and sharp. "Oh my God, this is too good. You love her? You don't even know her. She's a mess. She cries at TV commercials. She shuts down for days when she's overwhelmed. She leaves cabinet doors open. She—"

"She's healing," Hyunjin cuts in, voice like silk over steel. "And you don't get to use her softness like it's a weakness."

Eric turns to him, eyes narrowing. "What are you, the other boyfriend?"

Hyunjin smiles, slow and dangerous. "You catch on fast."

Eric's face goes red, veins bulging in his neck.

I can feel my heart pounding, but it's not fear.

It's adrenaline.

Clarity.

I step forward, between them.

And when I speak, my voice is calm. Mine.

"You don't get to define me anymore, Eric. You don't get to hurt me just because you hate yourself."

He opens his mouth.

I don't let him speak.

"I loved you. I tried. I gave you everything. And you made me feel small. Replaceable. Unlovable. But you were wrong."

Chan's hand finds my back again. Hyunjin squeezes my fingers.

"I'm not here to fight you," I say. "I'm here to leave you behind."

Eric scoffs again, a sound that's starting to crack at the edges. "You think they're gonna save you? These guys don't even know you."

Chan steps beside me now. "We're not here to save her."

Hyunjin lifts his chin. "She's saving herself."

Eric looks between the three of us—really looks—and I see it: the exact second he realizes he's already lost.

He doesn't know who they are. Doesn't realize that the world already adores them. That I adore them. That they've helped me become someone who doesn't need to explain herself to men like him anymore.

He shrinks.

Not physically, but emotionally. All the sharp edges gone dull, all the power bleeding out like air from a popped balloon.

He mutters something under his breath and disappears down the hallway.

I don't watch him go.

Instead, I turn to the living room.

"I'll start packing," I say, finally able to breathe again.

Hyunjin kisses my temple.

Chan presses his forehead to the back of my shoulder for a moment, just breathing with me.

I take a deep breath, then another.

The kind that makes your ribs ache. The kind that's been sitting in your chest for years.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Chan asks, voice barely above a whisper.

I nod slowly. "Yeah. I think so. I mean... I will be. I just need to do this."

Neither of them pushes. They don't follow me into the kitchen or try to take over. They just settle into the space like they've always belonged here — two anchors in a place that once felt like it might pull me under.

I find the boxes I'd left in the hall closet. They smell like cardboard and time. I tug the first one open and begin — picking things up, putting them down again, sorting through what's worth taking and what I should finally let go of.

There's a framed photo of me and my dad on the bookshelf.

I sit with it for a long moment.

Hyunjin crouches beside me silently, his fingers brushing my knee. "He looks like he told great stories."

"He did," I say, my voice cracking. "Better than mine, most days."

Chan appears with a trash bag, holding it open wordlessly. I laugh, wet and quiet, and toss in the framed picture of Eric I hadn't realized was still hiding in the drawer.

It shatters a little against the bottom.

No one says anything, but we all feel it.

It takes a couple of hours.

The sun starts dipping low in the sky, slanting golden light across the windows. I move like I'm under water, slow and deliberate, every box packed a little lighter. Not just because of the contents—but because of everything else I'm leaving behind.

Finally, I'm down to the last one. My favorite hoodie. A book I never finished. A mug I don't even like, but weirdly feel attached to.

Chan wraps an arm around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder.

"You did it," he says.

I nod, but I don't quite smile yet. "I want to do one more thing."

They follow me down the hall.

I walk straight into the bedroom. The bed is still made — the same ugly comforter, the same sag in the middle. Everything still looks like it did the day I left. Nothing has changed.

Except me.

I take one last look around and then I walk to the window and open it.

The breeze hits like a blessing — soft, warm, alive.

And then I reach up and pull the curtains down, rings screeching against the rod, the fabric falling in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Hyunjin lets out a tiny surprised laugh. "Was that... symbolic?"

"Felt like it," I say.

We leave the bedroom together and I slam the door shut.

Not to keep anything in.

But to mark that I'm not coming back.

We turn to go.

And then—

"Have fun being someone's charity case," Eric calls from the end of the hall.

Of course.

He's leaning in the doorway of the guest room, arms crossed, lips curled into what he probably thinks is a smirk. His shirt's wrinkled. His hair looks like he lost a fight with a ceiling fan. It would almost be pitiful, if he weren't still trying to dig his claws in.

I don't even pause.

But Chan does.

He turns slowly, eyes narrowed just enough to be dangerous, and says in a tone so calm it's terrifying, "Have fun being alone."

Hyunjin lifts two fingers in a lazy wave. "Also, your Wi-Fi's trash. Just FYI."

Eric opens his mouth like he's going to say something else—

—and immediately chokes on whatever comeback he thought he had.

Literally.

He coughs, sputters, bangs his knee on the doorframe, and knocks over what looks like an empty bottle of Muscle Milk.

Hyunjin and Chan both blink.

Then Chan turns to me with the most serious face I've ever seen and says, "You know, I almost feel bad for him. Almost."

I snort. "Almost."

And just like that, we walk away.

Down the stairs, out the door, into the crisp evening air that smells nothing like him.

I don't look back.

I don't need to.

Some chapters slam shut.

Others?

You lock them yourself.

And then you throw away the fucking key.

***

Chan's pacing the far side of the suite with his phone pressed to his ear, all business.

"Yeah—three boxes, a suitcase, and a busted old lamp. Just make sure it's marked fragile. No, not the lamp. Everything else."

Hyunjin and I sit across from each other at the kitchen island, each nursing a glass of something fizzy from the minibar. My cheek is resting on the cool granite. His fingers are drumming out an aimless rhythm beside mine.

Chan finally hangs up, tosses his phone on the counter, and slumps onto the stool next to me. "Done. It's all getting shipped out tomorrow."

We all go quiet for a second. That thick, dense kind of quiet. The kind that comes right after a storm.

And then—

"He tripped over a Muscle Milk bottle," Hyunjin whispers, eyes wide.

That's all it takes.

I nearly choke on my drink. Chan full-on wheezes. Hyunjin clutches the side of the island, laughing so hard his eyes squeeze shut.

"Oh my god," I gasp, clutching my chest. "The noise it made—like a sad little thud—"

"His villain speech derailed by a plastic bottle," Chan says through his laughter. "The most tragic final boss I've ever seen."

Hyunjin swipes at his eyes. "My favorite part was when he tried to lean on the doorframe to recover, and the whole thing creaked like it was gonna collapse."

"I thought the doorframe was gonna sue him," I say.

We're laughing so hard it feels like shaking something loose. Like cracking open a window in a house that hasn't been aired out in years.

Eventually the laughter winds down, softens into giggles, then into silence again. But this time it's different.

Lighter.

Chan reaches across the counter, his fingers brushing mine. "Hey. You did it."

I look at him, then at Hyunjin, whose smile has turned quiet and proud.

"I did," I say. "I really did."

Hyunjin lifts his glass in a lazy toast. "To reclaiming your shit and emotionally drop-kicking your ex."

We all clink glasses.

Chan downs the rest of his drink, then sets the glass down with a dramatic thunk. "So... how are we celebrating?"

Hyunjin's eyes sparkle. "Bubble bath? Champagne? Karaoke in our pajamas?"

Chan shrugs. "We are in a fancy hotel. We could order dessert off the room service menu."

Chan bumps my shoulder. "You deserve something decadent."

I raise an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"We could hit the hotel bar and order something fancy," Hyunjin offers.

Chan grimaces. "Too many people."

"Hot tub?" I suggest.

He gives me a look. "Too many bacteria."

"Okay, grandpa," Hyunjin teases. "Then what?"

Chan snaps the room service menu off the counter and waves it dramatically. "Seriously -we order every dessert on the menu, get in pajamas, and put on the scariest movie we can find."

"Oh my god, yes," I say, already giddy. "Sugar and terror. Perfect combo."

"Can we also get fries?" Hyunjin asks. "I feel like dessert and fries should always be allowed to coexist."

Chan is already dialing. "Done."

One hour later...

The bed is a battlefield of pillows, blankets, and food. There are five different kinds of cake, two pies, a chocolate mousse, ice cream that's melting too fast, and yes—fries. Always fries.

We're all in oversized T-shirts, our legs tangled somewhere under the comforter. The Conjuring is playing, the volume low but the tension high.

Hyunjin is halfway through a red velvet cupcake and has his head buried in my shoulder, flinching at every jump scare. "I hate this. I hate this so much," he whispers, eyes wide, frosting on his cheek.

Chan pops a fry into his mouth and shrugs. "It's barely scary."

I nudge him. "That's because your brain is broken."

"It's just editing tricks and loud sound cues," he says with a smug grin.

"Oh really?" I say sweetly—and then scream right in his ear just as a ghost appears on-screen.

He nearly jumps out of his skin, sending a fork flying.

"EMILY!"

I collapse in a fit of giggles, and Hyunjin cackles beside me, clutching his stomach.

"I will get you back for that," Chan mutters, but he's laughing too, cheeks flushed and eyes crinkled at the edges.

Eventually, the movie winds down, the credits rolling. The dessert is mostly decimated, and we're all curled up, the sugar crash starting to hit.

I shift between them, feeling the warmth of their bodies against mine, and suddenly the air changes.

Hyunjin is watching me with that lazy, dangerous smile. The one he gets when he's up to no good.

"You've got chocolate on your lip," he murmurs, brushing his thumb along the corner of my mouth. But instead of wiping it away, he leans in and kisses me, slow and deep, like we're melting together.

I hear Chan exhale sharply beside me. "You're not seriously starting something right now."

Hyunjin pulls back just enough to smirk. "Why not? She looks too good in that shirt."

Chan leans over to see me better, eyes dragging down my body, the oversized black tee slipping off one shoulder. "You really do."

I can feel the shift, the way their focus zeroes in, the way my pulse picks up.

"Thought you were too full," I tease, voice breathy.

Chan leans in, lips brushing my neck. "I said nothing about being too full for you."

His voice is lower now, rougher, the kind of tone that sends a shock straight down my spine. My breath catches as his hand slides to the back of my thigh, fingers digging in just enough to anchor me, to let me know exactly what kind of shift this is.

I barely have time to answer before Hyunjin's mouth is on mine again—hungrier this time. Sugar and heat and tongue, all of it soft and sharp at once. His hand slides beneath the hem of my shirt, dragging up my side, fingertips skimming the curve of my breast.

Chan pulls back just enough to watch, his tongue wetting his lips, eyes gone heavy and dark with something feral. "God, you two are so—"

He cuts himself off with a groan and dips forward to kiss along my collarbone, open-mouthed and slow, each press of his lips sending heat pulsing between my thighs.

I can feel the moment their hands find each other behind my back—like they're mapping me out together. Hyunjin tugs at the oversized T-shirt, and I lift my arms for them to pull it off. It floats to the floor behind us. The room is cool, but all I feel is warm skin and hands and mouths and need.

"Look at her," Hyunjin murmurs, breath catching.

"I am," Chan says, voice hoarse. "I haven't stopped."

They guide me back against the pillows, slow but sure, taking their time like I'm something to be studied. Adored. Unwrapped.

Hyunjin's mouth drags lower, his hands spreading my thighs slowly. He nips the inside of one gently. "You want this?"

"God, yes," I whisper, arching toward him.

He doesn't tease. Not this time. His mouth is on me instantly, hot and wet and perfect, tongue swirling and lips locking over my clit like he knows exactly how to undo me.

Chan's mouth finds mine again, his kiss full of breath and hunger, his hand sliding up to cup my breast, thumb rolling over my nipple until I moan into his mouth.

I'm already close—too close—and they know it.

"Let go," Chan murmurs against my cheek. "We've got you."

Hyunjin moans against me, and the vibration shatters something. My back arches, my hips jerk, and I come with a cry I can't control, trembling under the weight of their attention, their affection.

But they're not done. Not even close.

Chan shifts between my legs, guiding me onto my side as Hyunjin moves behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"You still with us, baby?" Chan whispers, brushing hair back from my damp forehead.

I nod, dazed. "Please."

His hand strokes down, sliding over my slick heat, fingers teasing before he lines himself up and pushes in with one slow, deep thrust. My body takes him easily, still slick and sensitive, still desperate to be filled.

Hyunjin's mouth is at my neck, kissing, sucking gently, whispering filth and praise between every heartbeat. "So good like this. Letting him have you. Letting us both feel you."

Chan's rhythm starts slow, controlled. Every thrust precise. My body is a live wire between them, every nerve ending lit up as they work in tandem—touching, watching, loving.

And then Chan changes the angle, hips tilting just slightly, and I cry out again, body clenched tight around him.

"That's it," he groans. "Come again for me. I can feel you—fuck, so tight."

Hyunjin's hand slides down, fingers joining where we're connected, circling my clit just right, pushing me over that edge again.

It hits hard. Harder than the first.

My vision blurs, hips twitching helplessly as Chan fucks me through it, groaning as he finally lets go, thrusts erratic until he presses in deep and stills, breathing ragged against my throat.

There's silence, for a moment. Just panting. Heartbeats.

And then Hyunjin whispers, "My turn, angel."

Chan huffs a laugh against my shoulder. "Give us a minute."

But Hyunjin's already grinning, already nipping at my jaw. "You're lucky I'm patient."

Chan kisses me once more—softly. "She deserves everything."

"I know," Hyunjin says, settling me into his arms. "And I plan to give it to her."

"I'm patient," Hyunjin says again, but his voice is thinner now. Breathless. Desperate.

He's not patient. Not even a little.

I feel it in the way his fingers tighten around my hip, in the way his cock presses hard against my lower back as he shifts behind me. He's already half-rutting into the space between us, trying to hold back but failing miserably.

"Hyunjin—" I start to tease, but he growls low in his throat.

"No. No teasing. I waited. I watched. I need you."

Chan presses a lazy kiss behind my ear and gently rolls away, pulling a pillow under his head, satisfied and soft-eyed and still catching his breath. "Be good to her."

Hyunjin's already dragging my leg up, curling it over his hip as he settles behind me, spooning me close. "I'm never anything but good to her."

His cock slides against me, slick with my release and his own aching need, and the second he pushes in, I feel how close he already is.

"Fuck," he hisses, voice cracking. "So wet. So tight."

He doesn't ease in the way Chan did. He thrusts, deep and full, like he's finally found oxygen after drowning. His arm hooks beneath mine, palm flat against my chest, holding me tight as he starts to move. Long, hungry strokes that send shockwaves through me, even though I'm still trembling from the first two orgasms.

"I wanted to wait," he pants against my ear, lips brushing the shell of it. "Wanted to take my time with you. Be soft. Slow."

His rhythm picks up, hips slapping against my ass with every thrust, his breathing ragged now, body shuddering.

"But you're so perfect like this. Fucked-out. Gasping. Taking everything I give you."

My nails dig into the sheets, my mouth falling open on a helpless moan.

"You like this?" he asks, voice dark and trembling with restraint. "Being passed between us like the most precious thing in the world?"

I nod, desperate. "Yes. Yes, please—Hyunjin—"

"Fuck, I love you," he groans. "I love you."

His hand slides down to where we're joined, fingers rubbing tight, relentless circles against my clit as he thrusts harder, deeper, every inch of him trembling with the effort to hold on.

"I'm gonna come—" he gasps. "Gonna fill you up. Make sure you know who you belong to."

I cry out again, body locking up around him as the pleasure surges through me—white-hot and overwhelming.

That's all it takes.

He groans something broken and pours into me with a stuttering thrust, burying himself as deep as he can go, body shivering against mine.

We stay like that for a moment, his forehead pressed to my shoulder, both of us breathing hard, hearts thudding wildly out of sync. Then, slowly, he softens inside me. His grip eases. He kisses the space between my shoulder blades, soft and worshipful.

Chan is already pulling me toward him again, tucking me into his chest like I'm the most fragile thing in the world.

Hyunjin slots in behind me, one arm slung lazily over my waist, and exhales like the last of his tension just melted away.

No one speaks. There's no need.

***

I wake to the sound of snoring.

Two people snoring, actually—overlapping in a way that should be annoying but somehow isn't. One deeper and steady, the other a bit more unpredictable, like a lawn mower that keeps starting and stopping.

I blink slowly at the ceiling, my whole body pleasantly sore and absolutely unwilling to move. The blankets are twisted around us in chaotic knots, the hotel room is dim with early morning light, and there's a warm, bare thigh draped over mine.

Hyunjin is face-down beside me, hair a mess, lips parted, drooling slightly onto the pillow. One arm is flung dramatically across my waist like I'm a body pillow he refuses to share. Chan's curled around my back, face buried in my neck, his snore vibrating directly into my spine.

I try not to laugh. I fail.

"Shhh," Chan mumbles into my skin, not even fully conscious. "Don't move. You're warm."

"You're drooling," I whisper back.

"That's Hyunjin."

A moment passes. Then Hyunjin lifts his head just enough to croak, "Rude."

I reach blindly for my phone on the nightstand, intending to check the time—but the second the screen lights up, a call comes through.

Felix 😈✨ is FaceTiming you

I grin and answer immediately. "Morning."

His face fills the screen, chaotic and already caffeinated. "MORNING, LOVERS! Well, it's night here, but you know."

He's got a SKZOO plush on each shoulder, sunglasses pushed onto his face, and the largest mug I've ever seen. "How's North Carolina? How's the food? Did Chan survive the spice? Did Hyunjin cry at Target? Did you get all of your stuff back? Is your terrible ex devastated?"

"Excuse me," Hyunjin grumbles from beside me. "I did not cry. I got emotional."

"You almost got us kicked out over a Hello Kitty toaster," I remind him.

Felix gasps, delighted. "Tell me you bought it!"

"...Yes."

Felix cheers, but then his eyes squint, narrowing at the screen.

"Wait," he says slowly. "Why does it look like you're—oh my god. Are you all naked?"

I glance down and realize that yes, the sheet has fallen just low enough to expose most of Hyunjin's back, a flash of my thigh, and part of Chan's hip. The three of us are a mess of limbs and heat and very obvious afterglow.

Felix lets out a very dramatic scream and drops the phone, and I can hear him shrieking, "MY EYES, MY INNOCENCE—I'M TRAUMATIZED!" in the background before he finally picks it up again, breathless with laughter.

"Anyway," he wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes, "you all look disgustingly happy and well-rested. Just wanted to say I miss you."

Chan props himself up on an elbow, hair a disaster, voice gravelly. "We miss you too, Lix. You holding down the fort?"

"Barely. Jeongin tried to microwave ramen without water last night. The dorm still smells like burning plastic."

Hyunjin groans and buries his face in my side. "Never leaving Seoul again."

"You say that," Felix grins, "but I expect a full rundown when you're back. And also maybe...a new SKZOO plush for emotional damages."

"You'll get a toaster," I say. "And you'll love it."

"You know me too well," he sighs, then gives a quick finger heart before hanging up.

I drop the phone back on the nightstand and sigh, letting myself melt between the two warm, sleepy bodies.

Chan kisses the top of my shoulder, soft and unhurried. "Morning, Babygirl."

Hyunjin hums against my side, one arm tightening around my waist.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, morning doesn't feel heavy.

It feels like a beginning.

Chapter 11

The second we push open the dorm's kitchen door, we're hit with the smell of garlic, sesame oil, and something sizzling on the stove.

And then—chaos.

"WELCOME HOME!" six voices shout at once, nearly scaring me backward into Hyunjin's chest.

The room is full. Of people, of food, of balloons taped to the cabinets and a bright paper banner that stretches across the ceiling reading "WELCOME HOME EMILY 💛" in colorful block letters that look suspiciously hand-cut.

There's a cake on the counter—pink frosting, too many sprinkles, and the words You're One Of Us Now written across the top in slightly chaotic handwriting. I'd bet my soul that was Felix.

Speaking of—he's the first to reach me, all dimples and sparkles in his eyes, grabbing my hands in his. "We made everything!" he says, practically vibrating with excitement. "Well, Minho and Seungmin did most of it. But I stirred some things. And taste-tested. A lot."

Chan lets out a dramatic gasp, stepping forward. "Is that—tteokbokki? And kimchi stew? You made galbijjim?"

"Hell yeah I did," Minho says from the stove, flipping something in a pan like he's running a Michelin-star kitchen. "Didn't even burn anything."

Hyunjin presses a hand to his chest like he's just seen the love of his life. "Ramyeon? I might cry."

"Not before me," I whisper, overwhelmed by the warmth of it all.

We sit—squeeze, really—around the long kitchen table, plates already being passed, laughter already spilling into the air. There's too many people, not enough chairs, and no one cares. Hyunjin ends up on a stool with Han half in his lap. Chan leans against the counter with a bowl balanced in one hand, chopsticks in the other.

Felix narrates my every bite like a food network host. "She's going in for the jjajangmyeon—ooh, good slurp. Strong technique. A natural, folks."

"I hate how good you are at that," Jisung mutters with a mouth full of rice.

"Thank you," Felix says, eyes sparkling.

By the time we finish, everyone's full and leaning back in their seats—except Hyunjin, who's eyeing the cake like he's about to propose to it.

"We should've done the cake first," he sighs. "Dessert always deserves first place."

"That's not how dessert works," Seungmin deadpans.

"It's how my heart works," Hyunjin says, already grabbing a knife.

Felix elbows him out of the way. "I cut it. I earned the frosting."

And just like that, the second half of the party begins.

There's a crumb war between Jisung and Changbin that Minho shuts down with a death glare. Jeongin somehow manages to pop three balloons without touching a single one of them. Felix licks frosting off his thumb and tries to get Kkami to wear a party hat. She looks mildly offended.

At some point, someone puts on music. There's a very cursed round of charades, several attempts at group selfies, and Seungmin laughing so hard at one of Jisung's impressions that he actually falls off the bench.

And I—just breathe it in.

This.

This is what I didn't know I needed.

When the party finally starts to wind down, the kitchen glowing soft and golden under the dimmed lights, I'm wrapped in a blanket, tucked between Hyunjin's legs on the floor. Chan's leaning against the counter again, sipping the last of a can of pineapple juice, looking relaxed in a way that makes my heart ache.

I feel their eyes on me at the same time.

"Come on," Chan murmurs, voice low and warm. "Let's go up."

Hyunjin kisses the top of my head. "Your bed's probably missing us."

We thank everyone again—some of the guys are already passed out in the living room—and then we sneak away, leaving the chaos behind.

The second we step into my room, it's like everything softens.

The laughter downstairs fades into a background hum, muffled by the walls and the thick quiet that follows us in. The lights are low, warm and golden, and the bed looks incredible—fresh sheets, fluffy pillows, the corners pulled tight. Someone's clearly been taking care of it while we were gone.

Hyunjin collapses face-first onto the mattress with a dramatic groan. "I'm never eating again."

Chan snorts, kicking his shoes off. "You say that now."

"No, really. I'm full of emotions. And jjajangmyeon."

I smile, toeing off my own shoes, letting my shoulders drop as I glance around the room. My room. With my books on the shelf. My hoodie draped over the chair. My toothbrush in the bathroom. The smallest, sweetest details that suddenly make it feel real.

I turn back to find both of them watching me.

"What?" I ask softly.

Chan shrugs, walking toward me. "Just thinking how good you look here."

Hyunjin lifts his head, his hair a total mess. "You belong here."

That familiar ache moves through me—sharp and sweet at the same time. I blink fast and busy myself grabbing my pajamas from the dresser. "So... are we doing the 'everyone gets their own room' thing tonight, or...?"

There's a beat of silence. Then Chan smirks.

"You want your own room tonight?"

I glance over my shoulder. "No."

Hyunjin rolls onto his side, cheek smushed into a pillow. "Didn't think so."

Chan reaches for the hem of his shirt. "Then I vote for the usual."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"You in the middle. Obviously." He tosses the shirt aside. "We're creatures of habit."

Hyunjin hums. "And we like this habit."

I laugh, heat blooming under my skin. "You two are ridiculous."

"And you love us anyway," Chan says, pulling the blankets back. "Come on. Bedtime."

I slip into the bathroom to change and wash my face, and when I come back out, they're already under the covers—Hyunjin sprawled like a cat across half the bed, Chan sitting propped up against the headboard, scrolling his phone.

They both look up when I walk in.

I crawl between them, and just like always, they close in on either side—warm, familiar, home.

Hyunjin throws a leg over mine and sighs dramatically.

Chan leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead—gentle, grounding.

But he doesn't pull back.

Instead, his lips linger. Just for a breath. Then they drift—slowly, deliberately—from the center of my forehead down to the bridge of my nose.

Another kiss.

Lower now, across the curve of my cheekbone. My breath hitches.

Hyunjin lifts his head from the pillow, watching us with a lazy sort of curiosity, his eyes half-lidded but alert. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Chan's mouth brushes my jaw next, warm and tender. I tilt my chin up without meaning to, inviting him closer. Needing him closer.

"Is this your version of a lullaby?" I whisper, already breathless.

"Something like that," he murmurs against my skin. "You looked too peaceful. I had to ruin it."

Hyunjin chuckles, and then his hand slides across my stomach, slow and teasing. "She doesn't look ruined yet."

My pulse stutters.

Chan lifts his head just enough to meet my eyes, the barest flicker of heat catching in his. "Not yet."

My heart jumps. I swallow hard, caught in the gravity of both of them, their attention narrowing like sunlight through a magnifying glass.

I'm not sure who moves first—maybe it's all of us at once—but suddenly I'm shifting onto my back, the covers rustling around us. Chan hovers over me, braced on his elbows, and Hyunjin leans in from the side, his fingers brushing my collarbone.

"You sure?" Chan asks, his voice low, already laced with something dark and sweet.

I nod, lips parted. "Please."

That one word is all it takes.

Chan kisses me properly this time—soft at first, coaxing, then deeper, his tongue stroking against mine in a way that makes my whole body ache. Hyunjin's hand moves lower, splaying across my ribs, and he presses a line of kisses along my shoulder.

There's no rush. No frantic heat.

Just worship.

Hands, mouths, whispered words that feel like promises. Their touch is everywhere—over my hips, my thighs, my chest—each movement slow and careful, like they're rediscovering me all over again.

I arch between them, gasping as Chan kisses down my neck and Hyunjin slips a hand beneath my shirt.

They take their time.

And I let them.

Chan's mouth trails lower, dipping below my collarbone while Hyunjin's fingers slip further beneath the hem of my shirt, warm against my stomach. I lift my arms, breath catching, and they peel the fabric away together—slow and synchronized like they've done this a hundred times before.

Maybe they have.

Maybe this is just as much a ritual for them as it is for me.

Hyunjin leans in and kisses the curve of my breast, tongue teasing just beneath the edge of my bra. "You wore the pretty one," he murmurs.

"I knew you'd be looking," I whisper back.

Chan growls low in his throat. "We're always looking."

He drags his palm down my thigh, then back up, inching my shorts with him. "Take these off," he says, voice gone rough.

I do as I'm told, the soft cotton sliding down my legs. Hyunjin takes them from me when they hit my ankles, tossing them somewhere across the room, and then he settles between my knees, dark eyes flicking up to mine like a challenge.

"Let us take care of you."

I nod, already too far gone for words.

Chan unclasps my bra and tosses it aside. His hands come up to cup my breasts, thumbs flicking over my nipples until I'm arching up into him, gasping. Hyunjin kisses the inside of my thigh, teasing just shy of where I need him, his breath warm against the soaked fabric of my panties.

"You're shaking," he murmurs.

"Can't help it," I whisper. "You two—God, you—"

Chan hushes me with another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier. Hyunjin finally peels my panties aside with maddening slowness and groans the second he sees how wet I am.

"Fuck, angel. You're dripping."

And then his mouth is on me—hot and filthy and perfect. His tongue moves slow at first, deliberate, tasting me like he has all the time in the world. I cry out, hips bucking up, but Chan holds me steady, one hand on my stomach while the other tweaks my nipple just enough to make me moan.

Hyunjin's pace quickens, tongue circling my clit just right, and Chan leans down, dragging his teeth across my neck.

"You gonna come for us?" he breathes.

I nod frantically. "I—I'm close, I—"

"Good."

Hyunjin slides two fingers inside me, curling just so, and my entire body locks up, a cry tearing from my throat as I come hard—trembling and writhing between them, undone and open and utterly theirs.

They don't stop.

Hyunjin keeps moving his fingers, fucking me through the aftershocks while Chan kisses me like he's starving, tongue and teeth and something deeper beneath it all.

When I finally sag back against the pillows, heart pounding, chest heaving, Chan shifts.

"My turn," he says, voice almost feral now.

I watch, dazed and eager, as he sheds the last of his clothes. Hyunjin helps me out of mine entirely, tossing the damp mess of my panties to the floor before he kneels beside me, stroking my hair and pressing soft kisses to my cheek.

Chan lines himself up between my thighs and pauses, just for a second.

"You ready?"

I nod, reaching for him. "Please."

The stretch as he pushes into me is perfect—deep and slow and just on the edge of overwhelming. I cry out again, nails digging into his back, and he kisses me through it, groaning low when he's fully inside.

"Fuck, baby. You feel like heaven."

He starts to move—slow thrusts at first, then deeper, faster, until the rhythm is perfect, each stroke sending sparks through my core. Hyunjin's beside me, whispering praise against my neck, stroking my clit with careful, practiced fingers while Chan pounds into me harder now, his face buried in the crook of my neck.

"You're taking me so well," Chan pants. "So good for us. So fucking perfect."

It builds fast again, pressure coiling tight in my belly. I reach for Hyunjin's hand, squeezing as the pleasure builds and breaks all over again, a second orgasm ripping through me like lightning.

Chan follows a moment later with a deep, broken moan, spilling into me and collapsing against my chest, breath hot and shaky.

We're still for a long moment. All three of us tangled together—sweaty and shaking and quiet.

Hyunjin presses one last kiss to my cheek and whispers, "Told you I was patient."

I laugh, breathless. "Liar."

Chan is still inside me, forehead resting against my shoulder, breath coming in heavy, satisfied bursts.

I can barely feel my legs. My skin is damp and flushed, my chest rising and falling fast. I should feel spent. Wrung out.

But then Hyunjin shifts beside me—smooth and deliberate—and I feel the way his eyes drag over me.

"I've been patient," he murmurs, brushing hair from my face. "But I'm done waiting now."

Chan chuckles low, pressing a lazy kiss to my shoulder before finally pulling out of me with a groan. I gasp at the loss, still trembling, but Hyunjin's already sliding into place, kissing my hipbone, trailing his mouth up the length of my stomach until his lips brush my throat.

"You sure?" he whispers, even though we all know the answer.

"Yes," I breathe. "Yes, please—Jinnie—"

He doesn't make me wait.

In one smooth motion, he spreads my thighs and slides inside me—deep and slow and deliberate. My whole body jolts at the stretch, still hypersensitive from the first two orgasms, and my mouth drops open in a soundless cry.

"Fuck," Hyunjin groans, forehead pressed to mine. "Still so tight. So warm. God."

He starts to move—long, slow thrusts that force me to feel every inch of him. There's nothing rushed about it, no teasing left in him now. His fingers lace with mine, pinning my hands to the bed on either side of my head. His hips roll with each stroke, deep and fluid, brushing something inside me that makes me sob.

It's too much. It's not enough.

"Please," I gasp. I don't even know what I'm begging for.

"Shhh," he breathes. "I've got you. Just take it."

And I do.

I take every thrust, every filthy word he whispers against my skin—his breath hot in my ear, his lips dragging across my throat.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this," he groans. "So wrecked for us. Look at you."

Chan's hand brushes against my knee, thumb circling the inside of my thigh where it trembles from the overstimulation. "You can give us one more, baby," he says softly. "You're right there."

Hyunjin changes the angle, his hips snapping a little harder now, a little faster. The rhythm punches gasps from my lungs, my head tipping back as the pressure builds fast and hot between my legs again.

"Let go," Hyunjin whispers, his voice suddenly gentler, raw with something deeper. "Come for me. Want to feel you fall apart."

And I do.

I shatter around him, crying out as the orgasm hits me like a tidal wave—sharp and blinding and complete. My back arches off the bed, fingers tightening around his, and Hyunjin groans deep in his chest, fucking me through it until he breaks too.

His pace stutters. He slams into me one last time and goes still, spilling inside me with a broken moan and a soft curse in Korean.

We collapse together, tangled and breathless.

Three hearts pounding in the dark.

Hyunjin doesn't move right away.

He's still inside me, chest pressed to mine, lips barely brushing my cheek. His breath is hot and uneven, his fingers still laced with mine where they're pinned beside my head.

We stay like that for a long moment—our bodies tangled, our skin slick with sweat, our hearts hammering in chaotic sync.

It's quiet, save for the sound of breathing. The rise and fall of three bodies trying to come back to themselves.

Then Hyunjin makes a soft, almost disbelieving sound in the back of his throat. He presses a lazy kiss to my jaw, then another to the corner of my mouth. His smile is warm and crooked and a little dazed.

"You ruin me," he whispers.

I blink up at him, still too gone to speak, and then he finally—reluctantly—pulls out. I hiss at the oversensitivity, every nerve ending buzzing, but Chan is already there with a quiet murmur and a hand on my stomach, grounding me.

There's something so tender in the way they move now.

No rush. No jokes.

Just the soft shuffle of limbs and sheets as they gather me up between them, brushing sweat-damp hair from my face, whispering things I can't even process yet.

"Look at you," Chan murmurs, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "You were so good for us."

Hyunjin hums in agreement, curling up behind me. "So, so good."

My body is thrumming, boneless and heavy in the best way, and I can't quite find the strength to speak yet—so I just let myself be held.

Chan's thumb strokes lazy circles on my hip while Hyunjin's lips trace the shell of my ear, breathing slow and even now. The weight of them around me is more than comfort—it's protection. Worship.

Home.

"You okay?" Chan asks quietly, and I nod against his chest.

"Yeah," I whisper. "Better than okay."

Hyunjin chuckles behind me. "We'll clean you up in a minute," he says, voice low and sleep-soft. "Just... let's stay like this a little longer."

So we do.

Tangled limbs. Sticky skin. The kind of silence that means everything.

They don't let go. Not even for a second. And I don't want them to.

Hyunjin's lips trail along my neck, soft and slow, his breath still ragged against my skin. His fingers twirl a lock of my hair, teasing it through his fingers like he's trying to hold onto the moment, to the connection.

Chan presses a kiss to the crown of my head, his other hand stroking the side of my body in slow, soothing patterns. The weight of their bodies against me feels grounding, but there's something else there, too—something deeper. Something that lingers in the quiet space between us.

"I love you," Hyunjin whispers, voice thick and full of something soft and raw. It's not rushed or desperate; it's the kind of declaration that feels like it's been waiting to slip out for a while.

I freeze, my breath catching, heart skipping a beat. My own body hums in response, every part of me filled with the warmth of his words.

"I love you, too," I reply, the words coming so naturally it almost surprises me. My voice cracks, but the honesty behind it is undeniable. It's not like we haven't said this to each other before – we have. But somehow, in this moment – it feels heavier. More real.

Chan's hand stills for just a second, and then he presses a kiss to my forehead, lips lingering. "Me too," he murmurs, his voice deeper now, the weight of the moment settling in with him. "I love you, Emily."

And in that space, with the heat of their bodies, the quiet of the room, and the tenderness between us, I know I've never meant anything more.

For a long time, we stay there, no one moving—just the quiet assurance of their words wrapping around me like a blanket. I curl into Chan's chest, and Hyunjin pulls me a little closer, pressing his forehead to my shoulder.

The world could stop spinning, and I wouldn't care. Because right here, right now, we are exactly where we need to be.

We stay like that for a while—sweaty and tangled and warm, wrapped up in each other with no real urgency to move. Chan's fingers draw slow, lazy circles on my lower back, and Hyunjin is curled up behind me, breath still a little uneven against the back of my neck.

Eventually, the quiet starts to shift, the solemnity of the moment stretching just far enough to make room for something lighter.

Hyunjin breaks first. "So," he says, voice muffled and smug, "which one of us made you see stars that time?"

I snort against Chan's chest. "You're both insufferable."

"Right, but which one specifically broke your soul in half? I need to know. For science."

Chan chuckles, low and warm. "I'm pretty sure it was me. She made that little noise—"

"Nope," I cut in. "You're both wrong. It was the teamwork."

Hyunjin hums thoughtfully. "That is our specialty."

I lift my head just enough to look at him. "You two are like the Avengers of ruining me."

"Babe," Chan murmurs, grinning. "We're not just here to save the world. We're here to wreck it—gently. Lovingly."

"Heroically," Hyunjin adds.

I drop my head back onto Chan's chest and groan. "Why do I put up with you?"

"Because you love us," they say in near-unison, smug as hell.

"I'm starting to regret it."

"No you're not," Hyunjin says, brushing my hair off my cheek. "You're glowing."

Chan kisses my shoulder, still smiling. "And you're gonna keep glowing. Once you can walk again."

"Rude," I mutter, but I'm laughing now—soft and breathless and boneless. Completely undone by them in every possible way.

They shift, slowly untangling themselves, but neither of them pulls away entirely. Chan finds the edge of the blanket and tugs it over all three of us, and Hyunjin's fingers are already tracing lazy patterns on my thigh again like he's trying to memorize the shape of my happiness.

"Shower soon," Chan murmurs, kissing my temple. "Before we all fall asleep like this and ruin the sheets again."

"I vote we ruin the sheets," Hyunjin says. "They knew the risks."

***

Just when I think we've finally settled—quiet and boneless in the tangle of sheets and limbs—there's a knock. A single, unmistakably judgmental knock.

Then the door creaks open.

I freeze. Chan goes tense beside me. Hyunjin sits up, bleary-eyed and naked, with exactly zero shame. "What time is it?"

And then I hear it:

"Oh. Wow. Okay."

Minho.

I lift my head just enough to see him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow halfway to his hairline. His expression is less "shocked" and more "tired older brother walking in on his siblings doing something dumb, again."

Chan exhales slowly. "Minho."

Minho holds up a hand. "Nope. Don't say anything. I don't need a visual. I already saw too much."

"I came to ask if you wanted cake," Minho deadpans. "Because someone forgot there's an entire second one in the fridge. But clearly, you've... celebrated enough."

I make a sound that's half embarrassment, half laughter, and bury my face in Chan's chest.

Chan sighs. "Sorry."

"No you're not," Minho says, already turning to go. "Just lock the damn door next time. You people are menaces."

The door clicks shut behind him with the weary finality of someone who knew this would happen and regrets being right.

There's a beat of silence—then the three of us erupt.

Hyunjin flops over, wheezing into the blankets. I'm shaking with laughter, my face still pressed into Chan's skin. And Chan just sighs like he's already imagining tomorrow's teasing.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this," he mutters.

"I think he's proud of us," Hyunjin says, absolutely full of it.

"Oh yeah," I choke out. "You can just feel the brotherly pride radiating off him."

"Cake later?" Chan asks.

"Definitely cake later," I say, grinning against him. "If Minho doesn't throw it at us first.

***

The first thing I notice when I wake up is that the bed is warm—but not as warm as usual.

Chan's side is empty.

I blink against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains and push myself up on one elbow. The sheets are rumpled, the pillow still faintly scented like him. There's a folded piece of paper resting where his head should be.

I unfold it slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

Went to the studio early. You two looked too peaceful to wake. Love you. Will text when I can.

There's a tiny sketch in the corner. A little doodle of me and Hyunjin, fast asleep with exaggerated cartoon hearts over our heads. I smile in spite of myself.

He's ridiculous. And perfect.

I set the note down on the nightstand and roll over—

And find Hyunjin watching me.

He's lying on his side, messy-haired and half-awake, eyes soft in that way that always makes me feel like I've just stepped into sunlight. One arm is tucked beneath his pillow, the other draped loosely across his bare waist. He's quiet.

But he's looking at me like he's never seen anything more important in his life.

"What?" I whisper, brushing my fingers through his hair.

His throat works before he speaks. "I was just thinking... how strange it is. That I get to wake up next to you."

I blink. "Strange?"

"Not in a bad way," he says quickly, shifting closer. "Just... surreal. Like if I blink too hard, you'll disappear. And I'll be back in my room, painting alone, pretending I don't want more than the world's allowed to give me."

I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together. "You don't have to pretend anymore."

He nods slowly, swallowing hard. "I know. But it still feels fragile sometimes. Like I've been holding my breath for so long, I don't remember how to let it out."

My heart aches. I press his knuckles to my lips. "You don't have to hold it anymore. Not with me." Tears prick at the edges of my eyes, emotion bubbling up in a way that I am powerless to stop.

Hyunjin leans in and kisses me—slow, aching, like he's been waiting forever. Like he's trying to say everything he hasn't figured out how to put into words yet. His hand cradles my cheek, thumb brushing beneath my eye as though he's checking to make sure I'm real.

"I love you," he murmurs against my mouth. "So much it terrifies me."

I kiss him again, deeper this time, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Then be terrified with me."

We shift together beneath the covers, his body sliding over mine with practiced ease, but none of it feels casual. Not today. Not in this moment.

This is slow. Full of the kind of love that can't be rushed.

He holds my gaze the whole time, whispering things in Korean I barely understand but feel all the same. His lips map every inch of my skin like a devotion, his hands worshipping rather than claiming.

It's not about hunger this time. It's about being known.

We move together under the covers, drawn to each other like magnets, like tides pulled by the same moon. His hand slips beneath my shirt, slow and deliberate, fingertips grazing the bare skin of my stomach. He watches me the whole time, eyes dark with emotion.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs, voice still husky with sleep.

I nod, already arching into his touch. "Yes. Please."

He kisses me again, deeper this time. His tongue brushes mine, unhurried, exploratory. Every movement feels deliberate. Intentional. Like he's memorizing me all over again.

When he pulls my shirt over my head and tosses it aside, his hands don't immediately go for more. He just looks. Like I'm a painting he's studied a thousand times and still finds new details in every time he sees it.

"You're so beautiful it hurts," he says, like the words are being dragged out of him. "Do you know what you've done to me?"

I shake my head, breath catching as he leans down and kisses my collarbone, my shoulder, the space just beneath my ear. Each press of his mouth is warm and slow and full of quiet desperation.

He rolls over me gently, his thigh parting mine. I can feel him, hard and hot against my hip, and my breath stutters as I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him in closer.

"I want to take my time," he whispers, lips brushing my cheek. "Let me take my time."

I nod, fingers sliding through his hair.

He trails kisses down my chest, taking his time, using his tongue in slow circles that have me gasping by the time he reaches my breast. He licks around my nipple before drawing it into his mouth, sucking gently, then harder when I moan.

I thread my fingers into his hair, tugging just slightly.

"Hyunjin—"

"I know," he breathes, switching sides. "I know."

By the time he slips my panties down my legs and spreads me open with his hands, I'm already trembling.

He lowers himself between my thighs and presses a kiss to my inner thigh, then one to the very center of me.

"Perfect," he murmurs, then dips his head and licks me slowly, languidly, like he has all the time in the world.

He eats me like it's his life's purpose, like there's nothing else in the world that matters more. And when I come, shuddering and gasping his name, he moans against me like he feels it too.

I pull him up into a kiss, tasting myself on his lips, and it only makes me hungrier.

"I need you," I whisper against his mouth. "Now."

He slides into me with one long, slow thrust, and we both gasp—our foreheads pressed together, eyes locked, breath shared.

There's no rush. No frantic rhythm. Just a deep, aching connection.

He moves slowly, rocking into me with his whole body, letting me feel every inch of him. His hand cradles my jaw. My nails rake lightly down his back.

Every thrust is a confession. Every sigh is a promise.

He kisses me through it, whispering, "I love you, I love you, I love you," like a mantra, like he's trying to stitch it into my skin.

And when I come again, clenching around him, he follows with a soft, broken cry, burying his face in my neck as he spills inside me.

We stay like that—tangled, trembling, breathless.

Hyunjin kisses my cheek. My shoulder. The spot just over my heart.

"I'm not scared anymore," he whispers.

And I believe him.

Chapter 12

The red light above the studio door hums softly, casting a faint glow on the dark walls of the basement hallway. It’s been red for hours.
I’m sitting on the floor just across from it, knees pulled up to my chest, hoodie sleeves stretched over my hands. I’ve sent three texts. No response.
I don’t even know if he’s seen them.
There’s a coffee cup next to me—still half full, because I brought it down the first time I got worried, thinking maybe he just needed a caffeine boost. That was two hours ago. The cup is cold now. So are my toes.
The longer the light stays red, the heavier my chest feels. I know he works like this sometimes, disappearing into beats and lyrics and the kind of pressure no one sees but him. I know this is his safe space. I know.
But I also know the way he looked when we got home from the airport yesterday. Like the weight of choosing me—choosing this—had finally landed on his back. And he was afraid to breathe in case it broke him.
A soft click.
I lift my head.
The red light goes out.
A slow beat, and then it turns green.
I’m standing before I even know I’ve moved. My hand trembles a little when I reach for the handle, but the door swings open easily. No resistance.
The room inside is dim, lit only by the glow of monitors and a lava lamp in the corner that pulses like a heartbeat. It smells like lavender and old coffee and the faint, metallic tang of cables and dust.
And there he is—Chan. Sitting in his chair, hunched forward with his head in his hands, headphones still around his neck.
He doesn’t look up right away.
“Hey,” I say softly, stepping inside.
He lifts his head, and his eyes meet mine. Red-rimmed. Exhausted. Like he’s been fighting a war in his own skull.
I close the door gently behind me and walk over to him, one step at a time, until I’m close enough to brush my fingers through his curls.
He leans into the touch like he’s starving for it. His hands come up to my waist, curling in the hem of my sweatshirt like he needs something to hold onto.
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he murmurs.
“I know.” I run my fingers down the side of his face. “But you did.”
“I just needed to think.”
“Okay.” I nod, brushing my thumb over the bruise-colored shadows under his eyes. “And now?”
He exhales. It’s shaky, like he’s still trying to decide if it’s safe to speak the things on his heart.
“I wrote something,” he says. “But it’s not done yet. I don’t know if it ever will be.”
“Can I hear it?”
He hesitates, then reaches over to the keyboard and taps a few keys. A low beat starts to play, soft and pulsing like rain on glass. And then his voice — raw, unpolished — cuts through the speakers. The lyrics are rough, unfinished. But the ache in them is real.
And I realize: this isn’t a love song.
It’s a home song.
The last note fades, but the silence it leaves behind feels louder.
He doesn’t look at me. Just stares at the monitors like they might have the answers he couldn’t find in me. Or in himself.
“That was beautiful,” I say softly.
He still doesn’t move.
“Chan.”
His jaw flexes.
I reach for his shoulder, but he flinches—not away from me, not quite, but like the touch startles something in him.
“That song wasn’t finished,” he mutters. “It’s messy. Raw. I shouldn’t have played it for you.”
“Why?” I step around to face him. “Because it wasn’t perfect?”
His gaze snaps to mine, and his eyes are stormy, wounded. “Because I’m not.”
I blink. “That’s not—”
“I chose this. You. Hyunjin. I chose it knowing exactly how hard it would be.” His voice is low, harsh. “But I can’t stop thinking—what if I fuck it up? What if all I do is ruin the good things?”
I feel the words like a punch to the gut. Not because they’re directed at me, but because I know that voice too well. I’ve lived inside it.
“You don’t get to call me a good thing and then push me away,” I say, voice sharper than I intended. “Not now. Not after everything.”
His nostrils flare. “I’m not pushing you away, Em. I’m trying to protect you from me.”
“Stop acting like I’m fragile,” I shoot back. “I came here. I chose this. I chose both of you. You don’t get to protect me by shutting me out.”
He’s on his feet in an instant, and I’m suddenly aware of just how close we are. The heat between us is suffocating—hurt and hunger tangled up like vines around our ribs.
His hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, and he leans in so close I can feel the tension trembling in his breath.
“You drive me insane,” he growls, low and wrecked. “I’ve never needed anything like I need you—and it terrifies me.”
“Good,” I whisper, barely breathing. “Then we’re even.”
And then he kisses me. Hard. Like he’s trying to anchor himself to the only thing that still feels real.
I kiss him back just as fiercely. This isn’t gentle. This isn’t sweet. This is need. This is desperation and fire.
He backs me against the wall, hands gripping my hips so hard it borders on bruising, and I gasp into his mouth, curling my fingers into the front of his shirt like I’ll fall without the anchor of him.
“You sure?” he rasps, voice rough with restraint. “Because if we start this here, now—I’m not holding back.”
My blood surges. “Good. Don’t.”
That’s all it takes.
His mouth is back on mine in an instant, teeth dragging my bottom lip, his thigh pushing between mine, and suddenly I’m gasping again, rocking against the firm pressure of him.
He kisses me like he’s starving. Like he’s trying to memorize me with his tongue. Every shift of his hands feels frantic and careful all at once—palms skating up under my shirt, dragging it off over my head in one fluid pull, leaving me breathless and aching.
My bra hits the floor.
Then his mouth is on me—tongue hot and hungry, lips closing around a nipple while he palms the other breast, groaning deep in his chest when I arch into him.
“Fuck, I need to hear you,” he mutters against my skin, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. “Need to hear every sound you make.”
He drags me across the room, toward the vocal booth. The red light above the door is off. The space is lit only by a soft amber glow from the mixing board.
“Chan—what are you—”
“Shh.” He spins me gently to face the mic, wrapping one arm around my waist from behind, the other sliding down to undo my jeans. “Wanna record you.”
My stomach drops. My knees go weak.
“You want—?”
He kisses the shell of my ear, voice barely above a whisper. “Just your sounds. Just for me. For the track. No one else will ever hear it, I swear.”
Oh. My. God.
My jeans are pushed down, panties with them, and I step out of them on trembling legs as he crowds up behind me again, hand splaying low on my belly.
The mic looms in front of me like a promise.
“You ready, baby?” he murmurs.
I nod. Barely.
“Say it.”
“Yes, Chan. Please…”
He growls—a sound that lights a fuse under my skin—and slides his hand between my thighs.
I moan. The mic catches it.
His fingers circle my clit in slow, devastating patterns, and I grip the mic stand with both hands, my forehead pressed to the mesh as pleasure rolls through me in waves.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “Let me hear how much you need me.”
The first finger slides in and I gasp—louder this time, hips bucking back against him.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, voice tight. “Is it the mic, or is it just me?”
“Both,” I choke out. “Fuck, Chan—”
He adds a second finger, curling them perfectly, thumb never relenting on that sweet, swollen bundle of nerves. I cry out again, louder now, breathy and wrecked.
“Keep going,” he pants. “Sing for me, baby.”
The orgasm crashes into me hard and fast, my body trembling as I moan his name, thighs shaking, mouth open against the mic as I break apart.
He kisses the back of my neck, breath hot against my skin. “God, that was perfect.”
But he’s not done.
He turns me around, eyes feral, pupils blown so wide there’s barely any brown left. He drops to his knees like he’s praying—except it’s my thighs he parts, my slick skin he kisses, my taste he groans into like it’s salvation.
I brace my hands on the booth wall as his mouth wrecks me, again and again, sucking, licking, teasing my oversensitive clit with slow torture and total worship. I don’t realize he’s turned the mic back on until I hear the faint echo of my own moans fill the small space again.
He hums into me, satisfied. “Soundtrack of a masterpiece.”
I barely have time to catch my breath before he’s rising to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he’s drunk on me.
Because he is.
His lips are slick. His voice is low and rough.
“You’re gonna let me fuck you right here?” he whispers, crowding me back until I’m against the padded wall. “Mic on, every sound you make mine?”
I nod, too wrecked to speak.
He grins—wolfish, dizzy with hunger—and pulls his shirt off in one fluid motion. I drink in the sight of him, chest heaving, sweat just beginning to glisten at his collarbones.
“Turn around,” he says. “Hands on the wall.”
I obey, my breath ragged as I brace myself against the booth wall, feeling the air shift as he steps behind me.
There’s a soft metallic sound—the unbuckling of his belt.
The mic is still on.
And I’m soaked.
He runs the head of his cock through my folds once, twice, teasing. Groaning when he feels how ready I am.
“Jesus, baby,” he hisses. “You’re dripping. This is all mine.”
I nod, pressing my hips back toward him, desperate. “Yes. Please—”
He pushes in with a long, slow thrust, and we both cry out. My hands flatten against the wall as my body stretches around him, full in a way that makes stars spark behind my eyes.
“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he breathes, gripping my hips tight.
Then he pulls back—and slams back in.
Hard.
I cry out, the sound echoing in the tiny booth, caught by the mic.
And again.
He sets a brutal rhythm, every thrust a claim, his hips snapping into mine, his fingers digging into my skin like he needs to mark me. Like he wants me ruined.
Each sound I make—every gasp, every moan, every wrecked whimper—feeds something in him.
“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “Let the mic hear how good I fuck you.”
The filthy words make me clench around him, make him curse under his breath and fuck me harder.
“You love this, don’t you?” he says, panting. “Being mine. Being ours.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes—Chan, please—”
His hand slides down again, fingers finding my clit, circling, pressing.
“I want you to come for me again. Right here. Into the mic.”
My head falls forward against the wall. I’m so close I can’t see straight. My legs are shaking. My skin is on fire.
“Say my name,” he says, low and hungry. “Come saying my fucking name.”
“Chan—”
“Louder.”
“Christopher, fuck!!”
And I’m coming again—loud and raw and helpless, body pulsing around him as the sound of my own wrecked moan fills the air.
He doesn’t last much longer. A few more thrusts, a strangled curse, and then he’s spilling into me with a deep groan, his forehead resting between my shoulder blades as his whole body shudders.
We stand like that for a long moment, both of us trembling, slick with sweat, panting like we’ve just run a marathon.
Then he chuckles breathlessly, reaching past me to turn off the mic.
“I’m gonna have to cut half of that,” he says. “You’re too distracting. No one’s gonna care about the track.”
I laugh—weak, spent, delirious—and turn in his arms to kiss him.
“Good,” I whisper. “Let them know what perfection sounds like.”
We barely make it out of the booth, my legs still wobbly, Chan’s hand firm on my waist like he’s not ready to let go. My shirt is only halfway buttoned and his hair’s a mess—thoroughly post-sex and not even pretending otherwise.
I’m just reaching for the water bottle on the console when the studio door swings open.
“Yo, Chan—”
Felix’s voice cuts off.
Both he and Changbin freeze just inside the doorway like they’ve walked in on a murder scene. Or, you know. Something equally traumatizing.
Felix’s eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh no.”
Changbin blinks once. Slowly. “Dude.”
Chan sighs deeply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Green light was on.”
“Yeah, and maybe it shouldn’t have been,” Changbin mutters, eyes darting everywhere except directly at us.
Felix makes a strangled sound and turns bright red. “I swear to God, if I hear one second of Emily moaning when you play that track—”
“I’ll remix it just for you,” Chan says dryly, zipping up his hoodie.
I groan and hide behind Chan’s shoulder, my cheeks on fire. “Please kill me. Right now. I’m begging you.”
“Absolutely not,” Felix says, finally regaining his composure—and that mischievous glint in his eyes. “You brought this on yourself. And on us. And on the booth mic.”
Chan lets out a low chuckle and flips the mic switch off again—just to be sure.
Changbin crosses his arms. “I’m just saying, you better Lysol the hell outta this place before anyone else records in here. Han will not survive the trauma.”
“We’ll come back later, Hyung.” Felix says, giving me a look before he steers Changbin back toward the door to the studio. Changbin lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head before they both disappear into the hallway, the door closing with a soft click.
As soon as the studio door closes behind them, I drop my face into Chan’s shoulder and wheeze out a laugh. He’s shaking with it too, burying his face in my hair.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “That was so close.”
He chuckles into my neck. “I thought Felix was gonna start crying. Or throwing up.”
We pull apart just enough to start straightening clothes for real this time, tugging down hems and smoothing out wrinkles. I glance at the still-open laptop on the coffee table and blink at the waveform on the screen. The booth mic caught everything.
Before I can even comment, the studio door creaks open again.
Hyunjin.
Wrapped in a fluffy blanket like a sleepy ghost. His hair’s a mess, and his eyes are still puffy with sleep. He blinks at us.
“There you are,” he mumbles, voice gravelly and petulant. “I woke up and neither of you were in bed.”
Chan schools his face fast, pushing the laptop lid down a little. “Sorry, baby. We didn’t mean to sneak off.”
Hyunjin plods across the room like he’s walking in a dream, drops onto the couch, and huddles into his blanket pile beside the laptop. “What were you doing?”
Chan and I lock eyes.
Something wicked flickers between us.
“Actually,” Chan says slowly, “I was just showing Emily a new track I’m working on. Thought it might be fun to get your opinion on it too.”
Hyunjin yawns and rubs his face. “Now?”
“Why not?” Chan says, already picking up the headphones. “It’s just a short demo.”
I’m biting my lip, trying not to burst.
Hyunjin holds out a hand for the headphones without question, nestling them over his ears as Chan queues up the file. He clicks play.
And we watch.
His eyes close for a second. Then open.
He freezes.
At first, his brows furrow like he’s not sure what he’s hearing. Then his eyes go wide—and his lips part.
I watch his throat bob as he swallows.
He slowly pulls the headphones off, blinking like he’s coming out of a trance. There’s a flush blooming down his neck, vivid even through the blanket draped around him.
“That was…” His voice is low. Rough. “That was you?”
I can’t stop the smirk tugging at my lips. “What gave it away?”
Chan chuckles next to me, slow and sinful, dropping onto the couch beside him. “You liked it.”
Hyunjin blinks down at the headphones still clutched in his hand, then looks at me—flushed, dazed, visibly hard beneath the blanket that’s now doing a poor job of hiding anything.
Chan leans in again, lips brushing the edge of his ear. “Put them back on.”
Hyunjin hesitates just for a second, and then—he obeys. Slowly, he slips one side of the headphones over his left ear, the one closest to the laptop.
A beat later, I hear it faintly—my voice. Breathless, broken, begging.
Hyunjin’s eyes flutter shut for just a moment.
Then he jerks when Chan’s mouth grazes the bare shell of his other ear.
“You should hear how wrecked she sounded when I had her bent over the console,” Chan murmurs, voice low and sin-slick. “She begged me not to stop. Told me she’d come just from the sound of my voice.”
Hyunjin’s mouth parts in a soft gasp.
I slide forward on my knees between them and reach for the edge of the blanket still tangled in Hyunjin’s lap. He doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t move. His eyes are fixed on me now, pupils blown, chest rising and falling like he’s already struggling to breathe.
He’s painfully hard.
I brush my fingers over the waistband of his sweats. He twitches beneath my touch, a soft curse falling from his lips.
“She wanted you too,” Chan continues, one hand now stroking lazily up and down Hyunjin’s thigh. “She came thinking about you watching. Moaning your name.”
Hyunjin groans—half-drowned under the audio in his headphones—and I tug his sweats down just enough to free him. He’s flushed and heavy, already leaking.
I don’t tease.
I wrap my fingers around the base of him and lower my mouth slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on his the entire time.
The moment I take him in—warm, wet, full—he lets out a strangled sound and grips the edge of the couch with white knuckles.
“Fuck,” he chokes. “Fuck, Em—”
“She looks so pretty like this, doesn’t she?” Chan says, his voice all gravel and pride, still right in Hyunjin’s ear. “God, you should see your face right now.”
Hyunjin's thighs tense as I hollow my cheeks, drawing a low, helpless whine from his throat. He’s completely at my mercy—torn between the sound of me moaning in his ear and the reality of my lips wrapped around him now.
I take him deeper, sliding my hand along the length of him in rhythm with the wet glide of my mouth. He bucks, just a little, breath hitching, hand trembling as he pulls one earcup off and tosses the headphones to the side like he can’t handle it anymore.
Chan’s palm moves to Hyunjin’s chest, pushing gently, guiding him to lean back. His other hand cradles the side of his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone.
“That’s it,” Chan murmurs. “Let her ruin you.”
Hyunjin looks down at me, eyes wide and wild and glassy. “I’m not gonna last,” he pants. “I—fuck, I can’t—”
I pull back just enough to say, voice wrecked and sticky-sweet, “Don’t you dare hold back.”
Then I take him again, deeper, my tongue dragging slow and sinful under the head, my hand working what I can’t fit, and Chan watching it all like it’s his favorite show.
Hyunjin breaks.
His whole body goes tight, his hips stuttering, one sharp cry tumbling out before his mouth crashes into Chan’s shoulder to muffle the rest. He comes hard, gasping my name, twitching under my hands as I slow down, easing him through it with soft strokes and gentle suction.
By the time he opens his eyes again, his hair is a mess, his chest is heaving, and the look on his face is pure awe.
“I’m never sleeping again,” he says hoarsely. “Not after that.”
Chan laughs, deep and warm, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Good. We’re just getting started.”
I’m still catching my breath, my knees aching just slightly from the hardwood, when I feel the shift of weight on the couch, Chan pulling me up to sit between them—first Chan, then Hyunjin, one on either side. I sink back into the cushions, sandwiched in the middle, my cheeks flushed and lips swollen.
Chan leans in close, his breath warm against the shell of my ear. “You know,” he murmurs, reaching over to tap the laptop’s spacebar, “I’ve played a lot of samples through these monitors, but nothing has ever sounded as fucking beautiful as you.”
The recording plays again—just a short clip. My moan, drawn-out and aching, echoes softly through the headphones still discarded on the other side of the couch.
Hyunjin groans quietly, eyes heavy-lidded as he turns toward me. “You sound ruined,” he says, like it’s the highest compliment in the world. “Wrecked and perfect.”
My skin prickles. They’re looking at me like they’re still hungry—like they’ve decided I’m their next meal.
Chan brushes a strand of hair back from my face, his thumb lingering at my cheekbone. “Can I keep it in the track?” he asks, teasing, but his voice is low. “Just for me. Just so I never forget the way you sound when you're that far gone.”
Hyunjin’s fingers slip beneath the hem of my shirt, slow and lazy, his touch all suggestion and no urgency. “You were so pretty, baby,” he whispers. “I want to hear it again. In person.”
And just like that, my breath catches again. Because praise like this? From them? It’s a drug I don’t think I’ll ever come down from.
“I think maybe you should turn the red light back on,” I say, looking up at Chan.
A slow, wicked grin spreads across Chan’s face, his fingers still grazing my cheek like he’s trying to memorize every inch of me. “You sure?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. “I don’t want you to be too sore afterwards.”
Hyunjin hums in agreement, his hand slipping higher beneath my shirt, palm resting warm and possessive against my stomach. “You started this,” he murmurs, lips brushing the edge of my jaw. “Now you want both of us again?”
My pulse stutters. My body answers before I do—back arching slightly, eyes fluttering half-closed.
“I always want both of you,” I breathe.
Chan reaches over to the console without breaking eye contact and flicks the switch. The red light outside the studio door clicks back on.
Do Not Disturb.
My breath caught. I could feel the tension shift, like something stirring under the floorboards. Hyunjin leaned past me slowly, not breaking eye contact with Chan. His fingers brushed lightly over my stomach as he did, intentional and featherlight, but his real focus was elsewhere.

Chan didn’t move back. He met Hyunjin halfway.

The kiss was slow at first — deliberate, exploratory. A quiet challenge. I felt my whole body tighten. I was there, barely breathing, pinned between them and watching the beginning of something... primal.

Hyunjin’s hand curled behind Chan’s neck, pulling him deeper, and Chan groaned — low and needy — into his mouth.

Then Hyunjin pulled back just enough to murmur, “Thought you preferred to be in control,”

Chan’s grin was wicked. “Who said I’m not?”

I didn’t even realize that I had grabbed Chan’s thigh until his hand slid down over mine, anchoring me there.

“You okay?” he asked without looking away from Hyunjin.

I nodded — voice gone.

Hyunjin finally turned toward me, pupils blown wide. “Good,” he whispered, brushing his lips over my jaw before returning to Chan. “Because this time… you get to watch us fall apart first.”

Chan didn’t hesitate this time. He grabbed Hyunjin by the collar, tugging him in with enough force that their teeth clacked on the second kiss — hungry, messy, the kind of kiss that tasted like challenge and long-held restraint. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, barely remembered to breathe.

Chan slid his hand down Hyunjin’s chest, stopping just under his ribs, fingers pressing in like he was memorizing the shape of him. Hyunjin moaned into his mouth, hips shifting forward, and I felt my own thighs clench reflexively at the sound.

Hyunjin broke the kiss with a gasp, lips swollen, eyes glassy.

“She’s watching,” he whispered, glancing at me with a devilish grin on his face.

“I know,” Chan rasped. “Let her.”

My heart pounded. I felt every word like it was spoken directly to my skin.

Hyunjin leaned back into the couch, spreading his legs, completely unbothered by how wrecked he already looked. Chan followed, crawling between his thighs like a man possessed. His hands were rough, greedy — one sliding under Hyunjin’s shirt, the other fisting in the waistband of his sweatpants.

I didn’t know where to look. Chan’s mouth on Hyunjin’s neck, Hyunjin’s head tipped back, the sharp gasps and whispered curses spilling between them — all of it was too much, and not enough.

Then Hyunjin opened his eyes and looked at me. Not with shame. Not with hesitation. Just pure, raw want.

“You’re next,” he said, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Chan paused, lifting his head, lips glossy, breath uneven. “Not yet.”

Hyunjin blinked.

“She needs to see,” Chan continued, his voice darkening, “what happens when I stop holding back.”

Then he dragged his tongue slowly down Hyunjin’s chest, hands firm on his thighs to hold him still as Hyunjin shuddered beneath him. Every movement was unhurried, calculated, designed to tease.

I whimpered. It slipped out without my permission.

Hyunjin smirked, even as his body trembled. “She likes this.”

Chan chuckled against his skin. “I know she does.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I shifted, legs pressed tightly together, hands clenched in the fabric of my shirt. I was on fire.

And they knew it.

Hyunjin reached for me, fingers ghosting over my thigh, trailing up, up, just under the hem. “Then let’s give her something unforgettable.”

Chan didn’t stop him — just looked up at me, eyes dark and full of heat.

“Come here, Babygirl,” he said, voice velvet and command all at once.

I moved before even realizing it, sliding down the couch between them — between my two lovers who were already burning, and about to ignite me too.

I don’t even remember standing up. One second I was on the edge of the couch, thighs squeezed tight, nails dug into the hem of my shirt — and the next, I was kneeling on the floor between them, sandwiched in heat and tension so thick it was a miracle I could still breathe.

Chan looked down at me like he owned me — like he knew exactly how ruined I already was. And Hyunjin… God, Hyunjin looked absolutely wrecked already, lips swollen, neck flushed, thighs spread wide and trembling.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Good girl,” Chan murmured, brushing my hair back from my face. His voice was low, breath hot. “You wanna watch? Stay right here.”

I nodded. That was all I could manage — just a desperate little nod while my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest.

Hyunjin leaned forward, cupping my cheek. His hand was warm, grounding. “You're okay, right?”

“I—yeah. Just…” I swallowed hard, eyes flicking between them. “You two are—fuck.”

Chan laughed softly, that smug little sound he made when he knew he had me cornered. “That’s the idea.”

And then he was on Hyunjin again — mouth dragging down his chest, teeth grazing just enough to make Hyunjin jerk and hiss. I felt every reaction like it was wired into me, like my body was echoing theirs.

I pressed my thighs together, shifting slightly, but Chan saw.

Of course he saw.

“Touch yourself,” he said without looking at me. “I want to hear what this does to you.”

My breath caught, cheeks burning.

Hyunjin looked straight at me while Chan's mouth disappeared beneath his waistband. His jaw dropped, fingers fisting in the couch cushions, but he didn’t look away. He watched me.

And I watched him fall apart.

Every moan, every gasp, every broken curse from his lips — it shot through me like lightning. I slipped my hand between my legs, dizzy with how wet I already was, and whined.

“You hear that?” Hyunjin rasped, voice rough and barely there. “She’s so fucking soaked, Chan…”

Chan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His mouth was busy devouring our boyfriend.

Hyunjin threw his head back with a guttural sound, hand flying up to his own hair like he needed something to hold onto. “Jesus, Chris—!”

I nearly came right there.

And maybe they heard it in my breathing, or maybe they just knew me too well, because suddenly Chan was pulling back, lips glossy and chin slick, and his voice was pure command.

“Up here. Now.”

I climbed into Chan’s lap before I could think twice, straddling him while Hyunjin’s hand slid around to cradle the back of my neck. They kissed over me, through me, like I wasn’t just watching anymore — like I was part of it, the thread pulling them together.

I was.

“Take her,” Hyunjin whispered, forehead pressed to Chan’s. “Together.”

Chan looked at me. “You ready?”

I didn’t answer.

I grabbed him by the shirt, yanked him in, and kissed him like I was starving.

Because I was.

Chan’s mouth crashed into mine and I tasted Hyunjin on his tongue — sweet and dizzying and soaked in need. I moaned into him, nails dragging down his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. I could feel every muscle twitch beneath my fingers, every sharp breath he tried to swallow.

Hyunjin pressed in behind me, his chest warm against my back, hands sliding up under my shirt like he owned me — and God, in that moment, he did.

“I want her mouth,” Hyunjin growled against my ear, biting the lobe. “Let me have her mouth while you fuck her.”

Chan’s breath hitched.

“She wants it,” Hyunjin went on, lips brushing over my neck now. “She’s fucking soaked.”

I whimpered. “Please.”

Chan shifted, one hand sliding between my thighs, his fingers groaning against my slick heat. “You are soaked,” he said, voice ragged. “God, baby…”

He pulled my panties aside like they offended him and slid two fingers in, just like that — deep and knuckle-buried and perfect. I let out a strangled cry, hips bucking.

Behind me, Hyunjin hooked his fingers into my jaw and turned my face to him. “Open.”

I did.

He kissed me like he meant it — filthy and slow, like we had all the time in the world to drown in each other. And when I moaned into his mouth, he licked it up, groaning like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Chan’s fingers never stopped moving, curling up just right, his thumb circling where I needed it most — and I was clenching already, panting into Hyunjin’s mouth, barely hanging on.

“She’s close,” Chan said, and his voice… fuck. It was low and deep and possessive.

“Not yet,” Hyunjin breathed against my lips. “Make her beg.”

Chan pulled his hand away.

“No!” I gasped, hips chasing him, tears burning behind my eyes from the need.

Hyunjin smiled against my mouth. “Then tell us.”

I was shaking.

“Tell us how much you want us to ruin you,” Chan whispered, dragging his hand up my chest, fingers brushing my nipple through the fabric. “Say it.”

“I want you—” My voice broke. “I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name.”

Hyunjin chuckled, low and dangerous. “That’s our girl.”

Chan grabbed my hips, positioning me over him, the blunt head of his cock nudging right against my entrance — hot and thick and aching to be inside.

“You gonna take it like a good girl?” he asked.

“Fuck me, Chan. Please.”

He slammed up into me with one hard thrust, and I screamed — head thrown back, nails digging into his shoulders as my body broke around him.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, panting against my neck. “So fucking tight…”

Hyunjin pulled my head back with a fist in my hair, forcing me to look at him. “Ride him,” he growled. “Let me see you come on his cock.”

I moved — hips grinding down as Chan held still, letting me set the pace. It was filthy — the sound of wet skin, my moans, Chan’s deep groans under me, Hyunjin’s breath against my cheek.

And then Hyunjin moved in front of me, pulling his sweats down just enough.

“Use your mouth, baby. You can do both, can’t you?”

I didn’t answer. I swallowed him.

Hyunjin’s knees buckled. “Fuck—Emily—!”

Chan growled beneath me, thrusting up into me again. “You feel that?” he gritted out. “She’s clenching—fuck—she’s coming.”

I was. Hard.

Body convulsing, scream swallowed around Hyunjin’s cock as my orgasm hit like a freight train — lights behind my eyes, stars in my fucking bloodstream.

Chan kept fucking me through it, dragging it out until I was a trembling mess, while Hyunjin gently pulled free and stroked my jaw, thumb brushing my spit-slicked bottom lip.

“You did so good,” he whispered.

But Chan wasn’t done.

He pulled out, flipping me over onto all fours like I weighed nothing, and Hyunjin helped — holding my hair back, kissing my temple as Chan slammed back into me from behind with a growl.

“You want filthy?” Chan rasped. “Then take it.”

And I did.

And I begged for more.

My knees were slipping on the studio floor, sweat slicking my skin, hair tangled, breath ragged — but none of that mattered. All I could feel was Chan pounding into me like he owned me, like he was trying to fuck me into the foundation of the building itself.

And maybe he was.

“Take it,” he snarled, gripping my hips like he’d die if I pulled away. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted to be ruined between us?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—!”

Hyunjin crouched in front of me, thumb grazing my swollen lips as he watched me fall apart between Chan’s brutal rhythm and his own filthy grin.

“She looks so fucking good like this,” Hyunjin murmured, palming himself lazily. “Split open on your cock, moaning like she’s possessed.”

I was.

Chan hit a spot so deep I cried out — not a moan, not a whimper, a broken sound, dragged from the pit of my soul.

And Hyunjin loved it.

He pressed his forehead to mine, voice dark and worshipful. “Can I come on your face, baby?”

I nodded frantically, tongue flicking out to taste him again as he pulled his sweats lower.

Chan’s hand wrapped around my throat from behind, not tight — just a warning. A promise. “You gonna be a good girl and take both of us?”

I choked on a moan. “Yes, yes, yes—”

Hyunjin stroked himself fast now, gaze locked on my mouth. “Open up for me.”

I did. Tongue out, eyes glassy, body trembling from the force of Chan’s thrusts behind me.

Hyunjin’s whole body jerked. “Fuck—” he groaned, coming hard across my tongue, lips, chin — hot, sticky, filthy — and I moaned like it was holy.

Chan lost it.

He grabbed my hair, yanked me up so my back slammed against his chest, and fucked into me so deep I couldn’t even breathe.

“You feel that?” he growled, panting in my ear. “You feel how fucking tight you get when you're covered in him?”

I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“Chan!”

“Say his.”

“Hyunjin—!”

“Now come again. Let him watch.”

I shattered.

My whole body locked, wave after wave ripping through me as Chan came with a low, guttural growl — grinding in deep, spilling inside me while I trembled in his arms, eyes fluttering, lips smeared in Hyunjin’s release.

We collapsed in a pile of wreckage — sweat-slick skin, tangled limbs, gasping mouths and racing hearts.

Hyunjin leaned in, brushing my ruined face with his fingertips and whispering, “You were so fucking good for us.”

Chan kissed my shoulder from behind, still pulsing inside me. “We’re not done.”

Hyunjin smirked. “Not even close.”

I don’t even know how much time had passed — only that I was trembling, boneless, pinned between their bodies and still aching for more. My mouth was raw, my thighs sticky, my brain a flickering blur of “yes” and “more” and “please.”

I barely registered that Chan hadn’t softened. That Hyunjin was already hard again.

“Still with us, baby?” Chan asked, dragging his fingers down my spine.

I nodded, but it was weak — too slow.

Hyunjin tilted my chin up. “Color?” he asked softly.

I swallowed. “Green… I think.”

They exchanged a look above me — one I barely caught before Chan kissed my shoulder, slow and reverent.

“Just let us take care of you,” he murmured.

I didn’t get a chance to answer.

Hyunjin pulled me back onto his lap, one hand in my hair, the other sliding between my thighs. “One more,” he whispered. “Just one more for us, sweetheart.”

And even though my body ached, even though I felt stretched too far and wound too tight — I nodded.

Because it was them.

And I wanted to give them everything.

Chan stayed behind me, gentle now, easing back inside like he belonged there — slow, tender thrusts that burned in a different way. Hyunjin stroked my clit with just the edge of his finger, eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. “You’re doing so well.”

“I c-can’t—”

“You can,” Chan whispered, voice warm against my neck. “We’ve got you.”

And I broke again — not with screaming, not with chaos.

This one came silent.

Tears slipped from my eyes as I clenched around them, body convulsing so hard I saw stars — too full, too raw, too much, but somehow still safe.

They felt it immediately.

Chan stilled, arms wrapping tight around my waist. “Hey. Baby, hey—”

Hyunjin caught my face in his hands. “Look at me. Are you okay?”

I nodded, still shaking. “I’m—just—sensitive. That was—”

“Okay. Okay, we’re done,” Chan said quickly. “That’s it. You’re done.”

He pulled out with a soft groan, and I collapsed against Hyunjin’s chest, dazed and trembling, skin flushed and wet with sweat.

They moved fast — so fast.

Hyunjin reached for the fleece blanket he had wrapped around him when he came down to the studio a whole two hours ago, discarded almost immediately. He wrapped it around me with infinite care, tucking the edges like I was something fragile. Something precious.

“I’ve got her,” Chan said, already crouching. “She’s not walking upstairs like this.”

He lifted me into his arms with ease, one arm under my thighs, the other pressed to my back — blanket and all. I curled into his chest, breathing shallow, face pressed against his neck.

“I’m okay,” I whispered, almost ashamed of how far I’d let myself go.

“I know you are,” he said, kissing my forehead. “But we’re gonna take better care of you now.”

Hyunjin followed close behind as Chan carried me up the stairs, murmuring things like bath, water, soothing cream for her thighs. My heart ached in the best way — not from overstimulation, but from the love in their voices.

Once we reached the bedroom, Chan gently laid me on the bed. Hyunjin knelt beside me, brushing my hair back.

“You let go so completely,” he whispered. “You trusted us that much.”

My eyes fluttered shut. “Always.”

Chan pressed a cool water bottle to my lips. “Drink. Then bath. Then we’ll hold you.”

I obeyed.

Because when it came to them?

I was always safe to fall apart.

Notes:

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 13

I woke to golden light spilling across my ceiling and the kind of ache that made me smile before I even opened my eyes.
Every inch of me felt used - in the best, most worshiped kind of way. My thighs were sore, hips tender, lips a little swollen. My body pulsed with the echo of everything we’d done the night before. And maybe that should’ve felt overwhelming, waking up alone like this in my brand new room, in the middle of a dorm full of idols. But instead, it just felt… right.
They’d let me sleep in. Probably on purpose.
I rolled onto my side, clutching a pillow that didn’t smell like me yet. It smelled like them. Like us. I pressed my face into it and smiled like a fool.
Eventually, I managed to get myself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. I cleaned up, tied my hair up, and tugged on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts. The shirt definitely wasn’t mine - Hyunjin’s maybe, or Chan’s - but I didn’t bother trying to figure it out. They’d both probably say the same thing anyway: it looks better on you.
The second I stepped into the hallway, I could smell breakfast. Garlic, soy sauce, something savory and hot. Laughter floated down from the kitchen - sleepy and warm and familiar. It tugged at something deep in my chest.
I followed it, barefoot, and turned into the doorway like I’d done it a hundred times.
Chan was at the stove, sleeves rolled up, flipping something in a pan with practiced ease. Hyunjin leaned against the counter in a loose black tee, sipping coffee, his hair a sleepy mess of waves. Minho was plating food like it was a gourmet brunch spot. And Felix?
Felix was already watching me.
Not in his usual cheeky, sunshine-gremlin way. He looked calm. Steady. A little serious. And that, more than anything, made me pause.
He didn’t say a word - just patted the stool next to him.
I moved without thinking, like I was being pulled into orbit.
“Morning, sunshine,” he murmured, as I sat down. His voice was low, soft in a way that made me feel like porcelain. “You good?”
I nodded, voice still half-asleep. “Sore.”
Minho smirked without even looking up. “I’ll bet.”
Hyunjin nearly spit his coffee out and turned away, muttering something into his mug. Chan, bless him, just smiled like a man with secrets and no shame.
But Felix didn’t even flinch. “Good sore?”
“Best kind,” I said, blushing even as I said it.
He gave my thigh a gentle pat, the touch grounding. “Then let’s get to work.”
I blinked. “What?”
Felix was already reaching into the pocket of his hoodie. He pulled out a small notebook—worn, filled with stickers and creases - and a pen. “Work visa. Job hunting. We’re doing this. Today.”
“Felix—”
“You’re staying, right?”
My chest tightened. “Yes. Of course I am.”
“Good. Then you need a plan. Luckily…” He flipped the notebook open dramatically, “I love a good plan.”
I stared at him. “You’ve been awake for how long?”
“Since six. I was excited.”
I huffed a laugh, completely thrown. “Excited to… help me with paperwork?”
He grinned. “Obviously. I mean, step one: you tell me everything about your job back in the States. What you taught, what you loved, what you hated. I write it all down, translate what we need. Step two: we build your resume and bully Chan into proofreading it. Step three: start sending it out. Step four: tackle the visa thing. I’ve already got a friend who knows someone who just did it, and I’m getting his number today.”
“Felix…”
He slid his hand across the counter and covered mine. “You’re not doing this alone, Em. You’re with us now. That means we figure it out together.”
Something about the way he said with us made my throat tighten. I looked past him—Chan had turned off the burner. Hyunjin had set his mug down. Minho was watching me, arms crossed, face unreadable but present.
They all knew.
This wasn’t a maybe anymore. This wasn’t a temporary guest sleeping in their extra room.
This was home. I wasn’t just loved. I was kept.
Felix was already scribbling notes in his little book, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth like a kid doing homework. “Okay, so, you were an elementary school art teacher. You worked with what age range?”
“Mostly K through five,” I said, still trying to catch up with the fact that this was really happening. “But I also ran an afterschool program that mixed art and English for ESL students.”
Felix’s pen scratched furiously. “Perfect. You’re golden. That kind of experience is gonna make you stand out. We’ll translate your credentials, and maybe put together a little portfolio if you’ve got photos of your classroom or student projects.”
“I think I do…” I said slowly. “On a flash drive. In my backpack.”
“Get it later. You’re not moving.” He patted my leg again like I was a cat who’d settled in his lap.
A shuffle of socked feet and a yawn interrupted us as Seungmin wandered in, hair fluffed up on one side like he’d lost a fight with a pillow.
He blinked at us. “Why is Felix doing homework?”
“I’m helping Emily get a job,” Felix said proudly.
Seungmin raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a plate from the stack. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Felix didn’t even blink. “She’s staying. For good.”
Seungmin froze for a beat, then glanced over at me. His expression softened almost imperceptibly. “Good.”
That was all he said, but coming from him, it felt like a hug.
Just as I opened my mouth to say something back, the sound of bare feet slapping against the floorboards came from the hallway.
Han burst into the room like a caffeinated golden retriever. “Something smells amazing! Oh my god, is that spam fried rice? Did someone cook actual food? Are we alive? Did we…” His eyes landed on Felix and me. “What’s happening?”
“Emily’s getting a job,” Minho said dryly from the counter. “Felix is her manager now.”
“Are we doing interviews? Do I get to ask questions?” Han grabbed a fork and leaned dramatically on the counter across from me. “Miss Emily, where do you see yourself in five years?”
“Still putting up with you,” I muttered.
Han gasped, scandalized. “She’s already fluent in sarcasm. She’s going to do just fine here.”
Hyunjin passed him a bowl of rice. “Eat. Quietly.”
“Rude,” Han mumbled through his first bite, but obeyed.
Felix handed me the notebook. “Okay. Your turn. Write down anything you want to do here. Not just teaching. Anything that makes your brain light up. We’ll see what we can make happen.”
I stared at the blank page, pen in hand, heart hammering for some reason. Everyone was still talking around me - Han teasing Seungmin about hoarding eggs, Minho arguing with Chan about whether or not American resumes even needed photos. But all I could hear was the quiet steadiness in Felix’s voice:
“You’re not doing this alone.”
I wrote one word in the center of the page:
Teach.
Then, after a second thought, below it:
Make art.
And underneath that, even smaller:
Stay.
Felix peeked over my shoulder and smiled so wide I thought his face might break in half.
“Perfect,” he whispered. “Let’s build your whole new life around that.”

***

Breakfast blurred into one of those perfectly messy, too-loud, deeply comforting scenes that made me feel like I was watching my own life from the outside.
Plates clattered. Forks scraped. Everyone talked over each other, voices overlapping - Minho threatening Han with a spatula, Seungmin lecturing Hyunjin about his caffeine addiction, Han insisting it wasn't that bad while sipping straight from the coffee pot.
Chan finally sat down next to Hyunjin with his own plate, hair damp from a quick shower, shoulders relaxed like he hadn’t just rearranged my entire nervous system last night. My thighs clench at the memory, but I ignore it. This moment is too important.
I take another bite of my rice, the savory heat grounding me. Felix was flipping through his notebook again, still scribbling ideas when Minho - of all people - pulled up a stool beside me.
“Move over,” he said, nudging Felix’s knee with his own.
Felix blinked. “You’re helping?”
Minho rolled his eyes. “Someone has to make sure you don’t submit a resume written in emoji.”
I blinked at them both. “Wait, are you serious?”
“Do you want a job or not?” Minho asked without looking up as he grabbed a pen from Felix’s hand. “Let’s start with format. Korean companies are picky about this stuff.”
Felix made a face. “Says the guy who doesn’t even have a resume.”
“I don’t need one. I’m too talented to fail.”
“You’re too mean to fire.”
“Same thing.”
They started bickering in earnest, both of them leaning over Felix’s notebook, arguing about whether I should list my GPA or not—“No one cares about her GPA, Felix, she’s an adult!”—and I leaned back slightly, letting it all wash over me.
That’s when I saw them.
Chan and Hyunjin, across the kitchen, heads bent together over the edge of the counter. Chan’s hand was resting on Hyunjin’s forearm. Hyunjin was nodding slowly, expression serious but soft. Whatever they were talking about, it was private - quiet and intense in a way that made the noise around them fade for a moment.
Chan’s gaze flicked up.
And found me.
I wasn’t supposed to be watching. But he didn’t look away. Just offered the smallest smile, the kind that was only meant for me. A breath later, Hyunjin followed his line of sight and smiled too - brighter, sleepier, but no less full of something that went straight to my chest.
Warmth bloomed in my sternum.
I was sitting at the kitchen island, Felix and Minho arguing at my elbows, Han making weird sound effects into his coffee, Seungmin pretending not to laugh, and Chan and Hyunjin looking at me like they’d already made up their minds about me.
Like I wasn’t a guest anymore. I was theirs. And they were mine.
Felix flipped the page in his notebook again, scribbling faster than I could track. “Okay, so I’m thinking we translate your teaching experience into two categories: formal and creative. Like, school system stuff, and then anything you did with art clubs, events, special projects. Sound good?”
I nodded, a little dazed still. “Yeah. I can get you photos, too - of student work, my old classroom. They’re on that flash drive.”
“Perfect. Go grab it,” he said, tapping my knee. “We’ll keep rolling.”
I pushed away from the counter just in time to see Chan and Hyunjin slipping out of the kitchen together. No announcement, no explanation—just a shared glance and a stealthy exit, Chan with his coffee, Hyunjin trailing behind with a lazy swing in his step.
Suspicious. Suspicious in a way that made something flutter low in my stomach.
Definitely up to something.
I headed down the hall to my room, fished out the flash drive from the front pocket of my bag, and came back to a slightly more crowded kitchen.
Jeongin had arrived, hoodie draped over his head like a blanket, face barely visible under his mop of bedhead. He was moving on muscle memory—slow and sleepy, clutching a banana in one hand like it was the only thing tethering him to the world.
Changbin had shown up too, already halfway through a bowl of rice and eggs, nodding along while Minho muttered something about layout spacing to Felix.
When I stepped back in, Jeongin looked up through heavy-lidded eyes and smiled. “Noona,” he said, voice scratchy and sweet.
“Morning, baby,” I said, brushing his shoulder as I passed. “Sleep okay?”
He nodded, then blinked at the table. “Resume?”
Felix grinned. “We’re making her a masterpiece.”
“You stay now,” Jeongin said, a little slower, his accent thick but careful. “No… more going?”
“No more going,” I echoed softly.
He smiled, then reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a rumpled navy ball cap. With zero ceremony, he plopped it onto my head and gave the brim a gentle tap. “Now you Seoul girl.”
I laughed, blinking against a sudden wave of emotion. “Guess I am.”
Minho took the flash drive from me as I sat back down, plugging it into the laptop like he’d done it a hundred times. “We’ll sort these by theme: student projects, classroom layout, maybe even any letters or cards from the kids, if you’ve got ‘em.”
“I do,” I said quietly. “I kept a lot of them.”
Han had drifted in somewhere during all of this and now stood behind Minho, arms folded, watching the screen as the photos loaded. He wasn’t joking or chattering like usual - just quietly present, nodding along as Minho started sorting the files.
“That one,” Han murmured, pointing. “That mural. You painted that with your students?”
“Yeah,” I said, surprised he’d noticed. “Each kid did a part of it.”
“It’s beautiful,” he said, softly. “Put that in the first row.”
The conversation slowed, grew warmer. Jeongin peeled his banana in slow, deliberate bites, resting his chin on the counter beside me. Changbin moved behind Felix to peek over his shoulder, offering the occasional idea but mostly just listening. Minho clicked through the folders with care, eyebrows furrowed, genuinely invested.
It felt like I was being gently folded into the fabric of something permanent.
And yet…
My eyes drifted toward the living room again. Still no sign of Chan or Hyunjin.
Definitely. Up to something.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, standing up from the stool and stretching just enough to sell the excuse. “Bathroom.”
Felix didn’t look up. “Don’t fall in.”
I rolled my eyes, ruffled Jeongin’s hair on my way past, earning a sleepy whine and a smile, slipping out into the hall.
But I didn’t head to the bathroom.
I padded quietly down the hall, ears tuned for voices, for laughter, for anything suspicious. I checked the living room first - empty. The sun was slanting through the curtains, throwing gold across the couch cushions, but there was no sign of Chan or Hyunjin.
I poked my head into the spare room that held boxes and a neglected treadmill. Nothing.
Then I noticed a door, just barely ajar. Felix’s room.
I wouldn’t have looked, wouldn’t have even considered it, if I hadn’t heard the faint sound of voices. Low and soft, close.
I held my breath.
Slipped closer.
The door creaked slightly as I nudged it with my foot, just enough to peek through the crack.
Chan and Hyunjin were sitting cross-legged on Felix’s bed, facing each other. Chan’s coffee cup was on the nightstand. Hyunjin’s hands were in his lap, fidgeting with his silver ring—the ring. The one he let me wear the first day I spent with them.
Neither of them noticed me.
“…meant to be,” Hyunjin was saying, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never believed in that before. Not really. But this…”
Chan reached over and took his hand, threading their fingers together.
“This feels like it,” he murmured. “Her. You. Us. Our life together.”
My heart stopped.
Hyunjin’s shoulders curled inward, like he was holding something precious just behind his ribs. “But how do three people get married?”
My lungs forgot how to work.
Chan gave a quiet, breathless laugh—the kind that carried years of want and weeks of wonder. “I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out.”
I pressed my back against the wall, just beside the door, breath caught in my throat. My hand was trembling—just a little—but my chest was full. So full it felt like my skin might not be able to hold it all.
They were talking about the future. Our future. Not just in soft, fleeting ways. Not just in private smiles or post-orgasm promises. They were planning.
They were dreaming.
They loved me.
I bit my lip hard enough to sting, grounding myself before I burst into tears right there in the hallway.
I couldn’t move. I stood there, heart thundering, ears straining for more words I didn’t deserve to hear—more pieces of this impossible, sacred thing they were building with me at the center.
Meant to be. Our life together. How do three people get married?
Tears burned behind my eyes before I even realized I was crying. My breath hitched, and I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep it in.
I was going to break. Right there. In the hallway. Two seconds away from bursting in, grabbing them both by the collar, and sobbing all over their hoodies.
But I didn’t. Instead, I backed away. Careful. Silent.
Then I turned and ran—as much as one can run on bare feet with a heart full of confetti and shock—down the hallway, into my room, and shut the door behind me with a soft click.
I was halfway to full-blown meltdown when I yanked my phone out of my pocket with shaking fingers and texted Felix.
“MAYDAY. MEET ME IN MY ROOM. BE COOL ABOUT IT.”
I paced once.
Twice.
And then the door flew open.
“Did you break something?” Felix gasped as he barreled inside, hair bouncing, eyes wide. “Are you dying? Are you bleeding?? Do I need—”
I threw my arms around him.
Not graceful. Not cute. Just launched myself at him like a sobbing meteor.
“Whoa—whoa—okay,” he breathed, catching me mid-sob. “Okay, okay, I got you. I got you. Shh. You’re alright.”
I couldn’t speak.
I tried. I really did.
But all that came out were gasps and hiccups and half-sentences.
“I didn’t mean— I wasn’t trying to— I just— they were— I heard them—Felix—!”
He gripped my shoulders and looked me square in the eye. “Em. Babe. Deep breath. C’mon.”
I sucked in a shaky inhale, face hot, vision blurry. He held my gaze, nodding with me.
“That’s it,” he said. “Now tell me what happened. Slowly. Full sentences. You’ve got this.”
I wiped at my face, still sniffling, and forced the words out.
“I went looking for Chan and Hyunjin. They weren’t in the living room. But the door to your room was open just a little, and I thought it was weird, so I looked, and—”
“You spied on them?” he hissed, scandalized. “Oh my god, I’m so proud.”
“Felix!”
“Sorry. Sorry. Go on.”
“They were sitting on your bed, just talking. I couldn’t hear most of it, but—” My voice cracked. I pressed my hand over my chest. “I heard Chan say our life together. And then Hyunjin asked how do three people get married?”
Felix’s face stilled.
All the teasing melted away.
“Oh,” he whispered. “Oh, Em.”
I nodded quickly, biting down on a sob. “I didn’t mean to hear it—I didn’t—but I did, and I just—what do I do with that?”
Felix stepped closer, his voice suddenly so gentle it nearly broke me again.
“You let it in.”
I swallowed hard. “I think I already did.”
He smiled, soft and sure. “Good. Then we’ll figure out the rest together.”
I sat down on the edge of my bed, still gripping Felix’s hand like a lifeline. My chest felt cracked open. Not in a painful way, just raw. Exposed. Like I’d looked directly at something too beautiful for too long.
“They were talking like it was real,” I said, voice hoarse. “Like they’ve been thinking about it. Like it’s not just a fantasy or a daydream or something we whisper when we’re half-naked in bed.”
Felix sat beside me, our knees touching. “It is real.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I just… hearing them talk about marriage like that…it was like the ground shifted underneath me. In a good way. In a terrifying way. Both.”
He nodded. “You’re not freaking out because you don’t want it. You’re freaking out because you do.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “How are you so smart?”
“I read one book once,” he said solemnly. “Had pictures and everything.”
I elbowed him lightly, and he smiled - but the warmth in his eyes didn’t fade.
“I think I always hoped,” I admitted. “But I didn’t expect them to be talking about that. Not yet. Not seriously.”
Felix tilted his head, studying me. “Why not?”
“Because it feels… impossible,” I said, barely above a whisper. “Three people. This whole thing. Living in a dorm, figuring out visas, all the secrets we have to keep, and just… life. It’s already so complicated. Who looks at all that and thinks let’s get married?”
Felix didn’t answer right away.
He just reached over and took the ball cap off my head—the one Jeongin had shoved on me—and held it in his lap. Turned it in his hands slowly.
“They do,” he said finally. “Because they already decided you’re it. You’re the one. You’re not temporary, you’re not a phase. You’re the thing that makes their whole world feel like it finally makes sense.”
My throat closed up again.
“You’ve been through hell,” he said, still gently, still holding the hat like it was something fragile. “And you’ve given up so much to be here. But you didn’t just land in this house by accident. You didn’t fall into their arms and stay because it was easy.”
He looked over at me. Eyes bright. Serious.
“You love them. They love you. And they’ve loved each other for longer than you know. All this did was give them permission to believe they could have something more.”
I blinked, tears welling again.
“So yeah, they’re dreaming big. Marriage big. Forever big. Because that’s how real it is for them. For all of us.”
I wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt. “You always know exactly what to say.”
“That’s why I’m your favorite,” he said, grinning just a little. “Don’t tell the others. Especially not Chan. His ego can’t take it.”
I leaned into his side, resting my head on his shoulder. He let me stay there.
After a minute, I whispered, “What do I do now?”
Felix was quiet for a moment. Then:
“You let them keep dreaming. And when they’re ready to tell you… you tell them you heard. That you’re already dreaming, too.”
I don’t know how long we sat like that—me pressed against Felix’s side, Jeongin’s hat in his lap between us, my heart slowly stitching itself back together in the silence.
Then came a knock.
Soft. Hesitant. Just once.
We both looked toward the door at the same time.
“Emily?” Hyunjin’s voice, barely above a whisper. “You okay?”
Felix gave my hand one last squeeze and stood up without a word. He crossed the room and opened the door with one of his signature too-bright smiles.
“She’s good,” he said smoothly. “Just a lot of feelings all at once. You know.”
Hyunjin peeked past him, eyes wide and worried, already zeroing in on my blotchy cheeks.
Felix turned back to me and winked. “I’m gonna go rescue your resume before Minho decides to include my achievements instead.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He paused, just long enough to mouth, breathe, then slipped out and closed the door behind him with a soft click.
Hyunjin crossed the room slowly.
He crouched in front of me first, just to look at me properly. “What happened?”
I shook my head, but it was too late—he could already see it in my eyes. My puffy face. My trembling hands.
Without another word, he climbed onto the bed and sat on my other side, mirroring the spot Felix had just vacated. One of his arms came around my waist, the other rested warm and grounding across my thighs.
“Talk to me,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. “Was it something someone said?”
“No.” My voice cracked. “It was something I wasn’t supposed to hear.”
His body stilled beside mine, but he didn’t pull away.
I stared at the carpet for a long second before finally turning to meet his eyes. “I went looking for you and Chan.”
Hyunjin blinked, but didn’t speak.
“The door to Felix’s room was open,” I said, voice barely audible. “I heard you talking.”
His lips parted, like maybe he was about to apologize, or panic, or disappear into the wall. But then I reached for his hand.
“You said ‘meant to be.’” My throat burned again. “And Chan said ‘our life together.’ And then… then you asked how do three people get married?”
His breath left him in a rush.
I didn’t let go.
“I didn’t mean to hear it,” I whispered. “But I did. And I needed a minute to catch up to how much that meant to me.”
Hyunjin didn’t speak right away. He just shifted, leaning in, pressing his forehead to mine.
When he finally spoke, his voice was almost broken. “I meant every word.”
“I know.”
“Do you…?” he asked quietly. “Do you want that too?”
I nodded, eyes wet again. “I want everything.”
His lips brushed mine once—gentle, careful.
“Then we’ll find a way,” he whispered. “Even if the world says we can’t.”
Hyunjin kissed me like he was holding glass in his hands—slow, careful, absolutely certain I wouldn’t break.
My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. My forehead stayed pressed to his even after our lips parted, neither of us ready to let go. Tears clung to both our lashes now, and we didn’t bother to wipe them away. They weren’t sad. Just true.
Then -
A soft knock.
Both of us froze.
The door cracked open slowly, and Chan’s voice came through low, cautious.
“Jinnie?”
He peeked in and stopped.
I didn’t need a mirror to know what we looked like. Curled into each other. Teary-eyed. Swollen-lipped. Barely breathing.
Hyunjin didn’t move. Neither did I.
Chan stepped inside carefully, like the moment might collapse if he was too loud. “You told her?”
“I didn’t have to,” Hyunjin said softly. “She heard us.”
I turned toward him, blinking up as Chan knelt in front of me, just like Hyunjin had. His eyes swept over my face, reading me the way only he could. His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing the damp trail there.
“I didn’t mean to overhear,” I whispered. “But I did. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t un-hear it.”
Chan looked down, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I was wondering why you were looking at us like that in the kitchen.”
Hyunjin gave a breathy, tearful laugh beside me. “You’re terrible at being sneaky.”
“I wasn’t trying to be sneaky,” I protested, half-hearted.
Chan reached for my other hand, taking it in both of his like it was something delicate and holy. “You heard everything?”
“Not everything,” I said. “Just enough to know that you two were planning something I didn’t think I was allowed to hope for.”
Chan’s breath caught.
I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his, the way I had with Hyunjin just moments ago.
“I’m hoping now,” I whispered. “I want the life you were talking about. All of it. You, him, this crazy house, whatever shape our future takes. I want it.”
Chan exhaled, shaky and quiet, and nodded against me. “Then we’ll build it. Whatever it takes. We’ll build it around you.”
And when he kissed me, slow and certain - Hyunjin’s hand still tangled with mine on one side, Chan’s arms wrapping around me on the other…I finally stopped crying.

Notes:

Thank you for reading!
You can find me on Threads @wolfanddancer1
And on Wattpad under the same name!

Chapter 14

One month later

I’ve officially lost track of how many cups of tea I’ve brewed while pacing around this house with a blazer on and nerves in my stomach.
In the past four weeks, I’ve been to seven interviews, submitted thirteen job applications, translated and reformatted my resume twice (thanks, Minho), and cried in two public bathrooms—one from frustration, one from joy. Progress.
My work visa application is in. We celebrated with takeout and sparkling cider, and Han made a ridiculous crown out of tin foil that said “SEOUL’S NEWEST EMPLOYEE (HOPEFULLY)” which I proudly wore for the rest of the night. Jeongin took about twenty blurry pictures of me pretending to answer fake phone calls while wearing it.
There’s still no official approval yet, but Felix keeps checking the immigration site like it owes him money. He’s convinced it’s only a matter of time.
And honestly? I believe him.
I’m figuring it out. Slowly. Some days I feel like I’m starting from scratch in a place where everyone else is already halfway up the mountain—but other days, I wake up to the smell of coffee, the low hum of the boys practicing downstairs, and the soft sound of Hyunjin humming in the shower, and I remember:
This is my life now.
Not borrowed. Not temporary.
Mine.
And as if that wasn’t enough?
I’m going to my first Stray Kids concert next week.
Not watching from a livestream, not seeing blurry clips on TikTok or crying over fan cams—no. I’ll be there. In the arena. Hair curled, lightstick charged, seat confirmed. Officially part of the screaming crowd.
I’ve heard them rehearse in snatches through closed doors. I’ve seen bruises and tape marks and exhausted grins when they collapse on the couch after long days. I’ve held ice packs on Chan’s shoulder and rubbed Hyunjin’s calves when they cramped up.
But I’ve never seen them like that. On stage. In their element. As the world sees them.
And the idea of watching them from the audience—not as part of their secret world, but as a fan, one face among thousands—feels electric.
Felix says I’m not ready. I think he might be right.
It’s strange, how quickly this place became home.
Not just the building, though the dorm has started to feel like it hugs me back when I walk in. The creaky floorboard outside the bathroom, the way the hallway light flickers for half a second before turning on, the leftover choreography taped to the fridge in bright highlighter and Minho’s handwriting - all of it familiar now. Loved.
But it’s more than that.
It’s the way Jeongin brings me cereal without asking on the mornings I look too sleepy to form words. The way Seungmin sets his book down upside down to listen when I need to vent about a weird interview question. The way Changbin keeps pretending I’m not better than him at Mario Kart and dramatically demands rematches.
It’s Felix brushing past me with a quiet, “Hey, Seoul girl,” every time I’m having a rough day.
It’s the way Han has stopped being performative when he checks in. How his chaos now comes with a calm that says you’re safe here.
It’s Minho, gruff and unbothered, making me lunch in silence while texting me links to schools hiring art teachers before I’ve even asked.
It’s waking up in the middle of the night, tangled between Chan and Hyunjin, with all the lights off and the world outside holding its breath, and realizing I’ve never felt more loved in my life.
I think part of me was waiting for the magic to wear off. For someone to knock on the door and tell me time was up. That I’d gotten too comfortable. That this was all a dream, a phase, a temporary high.
But no one’s knocked.
Instead, the world keeps opening wider.
My Korean is getting better. My confidence is coming back. And the ache in my chest that I used to carry like a shadow? It’s lighter now. Not gone, but changed. A soft echo of everything I’ve survived to be here.
And now, here I am…on the edge of something new again.
A concert. Their concert.
They haven’t told me much about what to expect. On purpose, I think. Hyunjin just grins whenever I ask and says, “You’ll see.” Chan smirks like he’s keeping some incredible secret. Even Felix refuses to spill setlist details, which has to mean there’s something in there that’s going to break me in the best possible way.
And part of me loves that I don’t know. That I get to be surprised.
Because for once, I’m not the one behind the curtain. I’m not helping pack lunches or hang student artwork or lead a line of kids through the hallway.
I get to sit back. Watch. Witness.
I get to be proud of them—of us—in a stadium full of people who love them too.
I get to cheer. Scream. Cry. Shake the damn lightstick like my life depends on it.

***

It’s after midnight, and most of the dorm has finally gone quiet.
Felix is still humming in the kitchen, cleaning something that absolutely doesn’t need to be cleaned. Minho walked past me ten minutes ago with a towel over his head and muttered, “Don't touch my leftovers,” which is basically his way of saying goodnight. Jeongin's door is closed, but light still spills from underneath - he told me earlier he was too excited to sleep. I think we all are.
My concert outfit is hanging on the back of my bedroom door. Black jeans, soft and worn-in. A cropped tee I found on sale with tiny rhinestones stitched into the sleeves. And the little silver bracelet Chan gave me last week, which I’ve decided is absolutely non-negotiable.
The lightstick is charging on my nightstand. I keep checking it like it might disappear.
It still doesn’t feel real.
My first Stray Kids concert. Their concert. The first time I’ll see them as everyone else does…on stage, lights blazing, music shaking the floor, thousands of voices screaming their names.
I wonder if I’ll even be able to recognize them up there.
I mean, I will, obviously. But I wonder how different it’ll feel. Seeing Hyunjin command a stage instead of stealing bites of my ice cream. Watching Chan move an arena instead of folding laundry while humming under his breath. Felix on the big screen instead of curled into the corner of the couch in his mismatched socks.
I already know I’m going to cry.
It’s not even a question at this point. I’ve accepted it. So have the boys. Han offered to bring tissues and snacks like we’re going to a three-hour movie. Seungmin asked if I needed him to sit beside me or if I’d be too emotionally unstable to function. He said it like a joke. I’m pretty sure he meant it.
There’s a knock on my door. Soft, careful.
“Yeah?” I call out.
The door creaks open, and it’s Chan. Hoodie on. Hair messy. He looks tired but warm in that familiar, grounding way he always does right before bed.
“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”
I nod, sitting cross-legged on my bed. “Just… thinking too much.”
“About tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
He slips inside and closes the door behind him. Crosses the room and sinks down beside me on the mattress without asking, like it’s instinct now.
“You’re gonna love it,” he says, nudging my knee with his. “Promise.”
I study his face in the low light. “You nervous?”
Chan shrugs, eyes flicking to the floor. “Always. But this one’s different.”
“Because I’ll be there?”
He nods once, then looks back over at me—serious now, steady. “I made sure your seat is front and center. Right in the middle of the pit. No cameras or barriers in the way. You’ll see everything.”
My breath catches.
“And we’ll see you,” he adds, softer. “Every time we look out, we’ll know exactly where you are.”
I smile, even as my throat tightens again. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he says. “You’re part of this now. You belong there just as much as any of us.”
A soft knock interrupts us before I can answer.
Chan doesn’t move, just lifts his head and calls, “Come in.”
The door creaks open a second later to reveal Hyunjin, hair slightly damp and tangled around his face, dressed in the softest, most ridiculous matching pajama set I’ve ever seen. It’s cream-colored and covered in little pink peaches.
He blinks slowly, like an owl, clutching a half-empty water bottle in one hand.
“You left me,” he mumbles at Chan.
“I told you I was coming to check on her.”
Hyunjin walks in anyway, aimless and adorable, smelling faintly like ramen and fabric softener. His expression softens when he sees me already curled up on the bed.
“Oh good,” he sighs, setting his water on my nightstand like he lives here—which, honestly, he kind of does. “Cuddle time?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He just climbs in beside me, tucking himself into my other side like he’s been doing it for years. His arm slides around my waist, legs tangling with mine under the blanket, and I feel his breath brush the back of my neck a second later.
Chan laughs under his breath, shifting to make room. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I missed you both,” Hyunjin mumbles. “Let me be clingy in peace.”
And then we’re all just… still.
One of Hyunjin’s fingers draws lazy patterns on my arm. Chan rests his hand over my hip. My body is warm and heavy and content between them. The nerves about tomorrow settle a little. Not gone, but softened.
Wrapped up in them like this, it’s impossible to be afraid of anything.
Not even the enormity of what tomorrow means.
“I’m so proud of you guys,” I whisper.
Neither of them says anything. But I feel it, in the way Chan’s thumb brushes slow circles against my side, and in the way Hyunjin presses a soft kiss to my shoulder before sighing contentedly against my back.
The room fades to quiet.
We fall asleep like that – one tangled heartbeat shared between three people who never meant to find each other, but did.
And who’ll be right there, waiting for me tomorrow when the lights go down and the music starts.

***

The heat hits me the second I step out of the car.
It’s not unbearable… just loud. Sticky pavement, warm air pressed close against my skin, the buzz of excited voices in every direction. There are people everywhere, lining up outside the venue in neat rows and not-so-neat clusters, plastic fans fluttering, water bottles sweating through drawstring bags, SKZOO dolls hanging off backpacks like colorful little mascots.
It’s crowded. It’s chaotic. It’s alive. And it’s all for them.
I slip my mask on, more for anonymity than anything else. I’m not exactly expecting to be recognized, but… better safe than completely mobbed. My hair is down, curled the way Felix did it this morning while narrating the process like a makeup tutorial. The little silver bracelet Chan gave me glints in the sunlight every time I move.
I keep my head down at first, but the conversations around me draw me in anyway. I do my best to follow - my Korean is still a work in progress, but I’ve learned enough to catch the rhythm of STAYs in their natural habitat.
“Hyunjin’s hair is silver again, I swear—did you see that TikTok?”
“Minho’s gonna destroy us during 'Venom,' I’m calling it now.”
“Oh my god, your banner! Did you draw that? It’s so cute! Look at the little wolf ears!”
People are handing things out - freebies, everywhere. Stickers, prints, keychains, fans with custom designs. One girl gives me a tiny packet of candy wrapped in paper that says “Bang Chan’s smile cures my seasonal depression” in bright pink font. Another hands me a photo card she laminated herself, carefully cut with rounded corners.
The creativity is wild. The camaraderie is even wilder.
Everyone’s hot, sweating, a little sunburned…but smiling. Laughing. Taking selfies. Singing snippets of songs in line. The whole atmosphere buzzes like an open bottle of soda.
And somehow, impossibly, I belong here.
When the staff finally starts letting people in, there’s a brief moment of panic before the floodgates open—and I run.
I don’t even care how I look. I sprint through the tunnel of flashing wristbands and security wands and ushers shouting instructions, legs aching but thrilling.
And then—there it is.
My spot.
Front and center, exactly like Chan promised.
The view is perfect. Close enough to see the sweat on their brows, the curve of a smile before it fully forms. The stage glows in ambient purples and blues while fans file in behind me, filling the pit like water rising in a glass.
I can just see them—shadows moving behind the screen, flashes of movement backstage. My stomach twists.
Then the lights shift. A voice crackles over the speakers.
Soundcheck.
They file out slowly—half in stage clothes, half in sweatpants and oversized tees, microphones in hand, grinning like it’s all a joke.
They launch lazily into “Miroh,” barely dancing, just vibing with the fans already packed into the pit. Seungmin is singing with one hand in his pocket. Han’s making weird faces at someone in the second row. Chan waves at a cluster of fans holding up a sign that says “MARRY ME” in English and Korean.
And then -
Hyunjin spots me.
He doesn’t wave. Just smirks.
Winks.
A moment later, Minho turns—eyes scanning the crowd—and when he finds me, he winks too, sharp and smug like he knows I just lost all structural integrity.
I laugh behind my mask, already blinking fast. Okay, not now, not yet, do not cry during soundcheck—
But my heart is pounding.
The music is echoing. The fans around me are already screaming. And it hasn’t even started.
This is real. This is happening.
They’re about to show the world exactly what I already know: They’re magic.
Soundcheck ends way too fast.
They wave, bow dramatically, toss a few hearts into the crowd, and disappear backstage with that easy, practiced swagger that always makes my knees feel a little loose. The lights on stage dim again, shifting into a soft ambient blue, and the chatter all around me swells back to life.
Everyone’s buzzing now. Speculating. Freaking out in group chats.
I catch the word “setlist” about fifteen times in two minutes and something that sounds like “new song” float by behind me. People are already checking the battery levels on their lightsticks, adjusting their photo cards in their phone cases, reapplying lip gloss.
I feel a tap on my arm.
The girl next to me—short, dressed in a black crop top and rhinestoned cargo pants, eyes wide - leans in and points at my wrist.
“That’s… is that the Fendi bracelet?” she asks in careful, accented English. Her voice is tinged with disbelief, and maybe a little awe. “Limited collab?”
I glance down automatically.
Shit. I forgot.
The thin silver bracelet—delicate, minimal, engraved with a tiny symbol only visible in the right light—is Fendi. It’s also one-of-a-kind. Because Chan gave it to me himself.
“It’s, uh…” I start, brain short-circuiting. “It was a gift. From a… friend. In fashion. Sort of.”
She blinks, obviously intrigued. “You have friends in Fendi? That’s so cool! This one hasn’t even dropped yet, has it?”
“I don’t think so,” I murmur, cheeks heating under my mask.
She looks like she’s about to ask more—maybe press a little, maybe just fangirl over it—but the lights suddenly drop to black and the arena explodes.
A collective scream rolls over the crowd like a thunderclap. Bass hums through the floor.
The screen behind the stage lights up, a slow, flickering build of visuals and text and distortion, like the universe cracking open just for us.
“Oh my god oh my god it’s starting—” the girl next to me squeals, clutching the lightstick between both hands.
My heart is hammering.
The intro video rolls—clips I’ve seen pieces of at home, now blown up twenty feet high and pulsing with heat. One by one, the boys appear on screen in glitchy, stylized flashes—Hyunjin spinning in slow motion, Chan striding forward, Minho grinning like he’s about to murder someone on stage and make it look hot.
Then the logo hits. And the stage erupts.
The lights, the fire, the sound—it slams into me all at once.
And then they’re there. All eight of them.
In full glam, dressed to kill, perfectly synchronized from the very first beat. No more lazy rehearsal. No more warm-ups.
This is it. This is the real thing.
Hyunjin is a blur of silver and silk and sharp lines. Chan moves like the stage belongs to him. Felix’s voice rumbles low through the speakers and the pit shakes when he hits his verse.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until I taste salt on my lips.
The lightstick in my hand pulses in time with the music, and the bracelet on my wrist—his bracelet—catches a glint of the spotlight.
They can see me. And I see everything.
It’s too much.
The lights, the sound, the movement—it all hits me in waves, relentless and overwhelming, like standing in the ocean with my arms wide open. Every time I think I’ve caught my breath, something else knocks the wind out of me.
They’re so good.
Not just technically—though, yes, the choreography is mind-melting and the vocals are flawless—but something else. There’s a power in it. A presence. A command of the space that goes beyond talent.
It’s Hyunjin spinning like a blade of silk, expression carved into something godlike. It’s Minho hitting every beat with surgical precision, sweat darkening the collar of his shirt. It’s Han’s grin, wide and wicked, as he bounces across the stage like he owns it.
And then there’s Chan.
Chan, whose control is absolute. Who prowls the stage like he’s hunting something. Who lets his voice crack in the middle of a verse and somehow makes it sexier. Who locks eyes with me during Topline and smirks like he knows what it’s doing to me.
And I let him.
I want him to.
Because somewhere between the first chorus and the third costume change, something shifts inside me.
The pride is still there—stronger than ever—but now it burns hotter. Lower.
It curls into my stomach and spreads to my thighs. It makes my hands grip the barricade a little tighter. My breath catch. My mouth go dry.
Because I see it now. Not just the performance. Not just the show.
I see them.
The sweat-slick muscles beneath tight fabric. The way their shirts cling in all the right places. The flex of Chan’s thighs when he crouches at the edge of the stage. The way Hyunjin drags his hand through his hair between verses, slow and deliberate, like he’s taunting the entire pit.
And they keep looking at me.
Not often. Not obviously. But it’s there.
Quick glances.
Lingering smirks.
A raised brow. A subtle tilt of the head.
They know exactly where I am.
And suddenly, I don’t feel like just another fan in the crowd.
I feel like prey.
Hyunjin stops mid-song, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he flashes a knowing look straight at me. Minho flicks a glance over his shoulder with a smirk like he’s in on the joke. And Chan—Chan—lowers his mic for half a beat and mouths something I can’t hear but feel in my spine.
I’m not sure if my legs are shaking from the bass or from something far more dangerous.
This was supposed to be their night.
But somehow, here under these lights, with thousands of people screaming around me and their eyes locked on mine—
It’s starting to feel like it’s mine, too.

***

I know what’s coming the second the first synth hits.
Low, pulsing, slow and deliberate—Escape.
Oh no. No no no no no.
I’m not ready.
The lighting shifts—deep red fading into a stark, clinical white, like the world’s being peeled open. And then—
They appear.
Hyunjin on one side of the stage. Chan on the other. Moving in sync, slow and predatory, like they’re circling something between them. Like they’re circling me.
I stop breathing.
It’s not a performance. It’s a threat.
Hyunjin’s voice comes first—soft and pleading, dripping with ache. His eyes are half-lidded, his mouth trembling on the vowels, hips rolling so fluidly I feel it in my teeth.
And then Chan—Chan.
When his voice drops into that lower register, something inside me snaps.
It’s the way he moves—controlled, sharp, like a man with too many secrets and no mercy. He meets Hyunjin in the middle of the stage, back-to-back at first, hands brushing as they circle each other. The tension is unbearable. Every movement deliberate. Every lyric a touch too intimate.
They’re not just performing this song. They’re living in it.
And I can’t look away.
Chan’s shirt is clinging to him, damp from sweat, dipping just enough at the collar to show the line of his chest. Hyunjin’s lips are pink and parted, damp with spit, like he’s seconds away from whispering something filthy into the mic.
Then it happens.
The bridge.
They face each other.
Close. Too close.
Chan reaches out, fingers wrapping around Hyunjin’s throat, and Hyunjin grins. His head drops back for just a second, exposing more of his throat, and the mic picks up the sound of his breath hitching.
I grip the barricade so tightly my knuckles ache.
Every part of me is buzzing. Heart racing. Skin too hot. My thighs press together instinctively and stay that way.
I’m drenched in sweat, but it’s not the heat. Not really. It’s them.
They’re making a meal of this moment—letting the tension build, stretch, simmer. And they know I’m watching. They know.
Hyunjin glances into the pit during the last chorus, eyes glittering under the lights. He finds me in an instant.
Smirks.
Chan’s already facing forward again, but he reaches down and lifts the mic with both hands like he’s holding something precious. Something breakable.
His voice rasps into the final line:
"Escape now."
And just like that—
I’m ruined. Completely, utterly ruined.
My thighs ache so badly it’s almost painful. There’s a steady throb between them that no amount of clenching can calm. I’m flushed and breathless and seconds from sobbing or combusting—possibly both.
They bow slightly as the lights drop again. The stage goes dark. The crowd loses their mind.
And I’m left gasping in the dark, clutching my chest like it might fly out of my body.
What the hell just happened?
I’m still trying to recover—heart pounding, thighs clenched, hands slick on the barricade—when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I fumble for it, half-expecting a STAY update or maybe some blurry selfie from Felix. But it’s not that. It’s a message from Chan.
“sending someone to come get you”
My breath catches.
Before I can even type a response, I feel a soft tap on my arm.
I turn, blinking.
A staff member—one I vaguely recognize from the dorm a few times—gives me a polite nod. He leans in close enough for only me to hear.
“You’re wanted backstage.”
The words hit me like a current.
I nod, my voice lodged somewhere between my ribs and my throat. I barely register the people around me, the thousands of fans screaming for the next number. I just follow—willing, stunned, heat still pulsing low in my belly.
We wind through a tucked-away exit near the front barricade, past security and thick black curtains, down a narrow hallway that smells like stage fog and sweat and anticipation.
Everything here is dim, electric, real.
The music behind us rumbles on like thunder.
The farther I walk, the more it feels like I’ve stepped through a mirror into some alternate version of the show—one where I’m not just watching from the front row.
One where I’m part of it.
The staff member leads me past equipment crates and racks of backup outfits, nods at someone with a headset, and then gestures to a side door—one I somehow know leads to the dressing area.
He doesn’t even need to say anything.
I step forward, hand shaking just slightly as I reach for the handle.
I can still hear the fans screaming behind me. The echo of the music. The pounding of my pulse.
And I know—before I even open that door—
Whatever’s waiting for me on the other side…I will not be leaving the same.
I open the door.
And stop.
The room is dim—lit only by a soft overhead bulb and the pale glow of the vanity mirror. It smells like sweat and skin and stage fog. The air is thick, humid, electric.
Chan and Hyunjin are already inside.
Waiting.
Their performance outfits are still clinging to them—unzipped, loose in places, wrinkled and damp with sweat. Chan’s shirt is half undone, his chest rising and falling like he’s still on stage. Hyunjin’s hair is pushed back, damp and messy, his eyes dark under smudged liner, lips parted.
They both look at me like I’m the final act.
“Hi, baby,” Chan says, voice low, wrecked, a little breathless. “Enjoy the show?”
Hyunjin just smirks. He doesn’t speak—just takes one slow, deliberate step forward, gaze raking down my body like he’s already imagining it bare.
My throat is dry. My knees might give out.
I try to answer, but all I manage is a shaky, “You…”
“We what?” Chan murmurs, advancing too. “We what, angel?”
“You killed me,” I breathe.
Hyunjin’s smirk sharpens into something darker. “Good.”
Chan’s voice dips lower, all silk and heat. “You were front and center. Think we didn’t see you falling apart during Escape? You’re lucky we didn’t pull you on stage.”
My whole body jolts.
“You looked so pretty,” Hyunjin adds, circling behind me, his breath brushing my ear. “All flushed. So needy. You want us that bad, sweetheart?”
“I—” My voice catches. My thighs ache. I feel like I’ve been left on edge for hours.
Chan reaches for my jaw, tilting my face up to his. He’s still glistening with sweat, eyes burning into mine. “Say the word,” he whispers. “And we’ll take care of it. Right here. Right now.”
Hyunjin’s hands brush down my arms from behind, gentle at first, but shaking with restraint.
And I realize - they’re just as desperate as I am.
Wild from the stage, high on adrenaline, voices still humming from the mic. They didn’t call me back here to talk.
They called me back to ruin me. And I want them to.
Chan is the one who locks the door.
Click.
That soft, final sound punches straight to my core.
He turns back slowly, one hand still on the knob, eyes sweeping over me like he’s already imagining me on my knees.
“Fifteen minutes,” he murmurs, voice dark and tight. “Can you behave, baby?”
Behind me, Hyunjin laughs under his breath—a quiet, dangerous sound. “She won’t last five.”
I whimper. That’s all I can do.
Chan crosses the space between us in three long strides, hauling me into him by the waist. His mouth finds my neck instantly, biting, sucking, claiming, and I have to slap a hand over my mouth to keep from moaning.
His voice is a growl against my skin. “Keep that hand there, angel. No one gets to hear you but us.”
Hyunjin is already behind me again, his hands sliding up under my shirt, greedy and practiced. His fingers are cool compared to the heat of my skin, and when his lips brush the shell of my ear, I nearly collapse.
“You should’ve seen yourself during Escape,” he breathes. “Eyes glazed. Legs twitching. We saw you. All of you.”
I gasp against my palm, hips rolling back into him instinctively.
Chan’s hands move to the front of my jeans, unfastening the button in one swift flick of his fingers. “She’s soaked,” he murmurs to Hyunjin, like it’s a gift. A reward. His voice is barely above a whisper. “We haven’t even touched her yet.”
Hyunjin’s hands replace his, tugging my jeans and panties down in one motion, baring me to the cool air and their heat.
“Bend her over the counter,” Hyunjin says, breathless now, a touch wild. “I need to taste her before I go back on stage or I’ll fucking lose it.”
Chan doesn’t hesitate.
He manhandles me to the vanity, pushing aside a towel and a stack of makeup sponges. I brace my hands against the counter, legs trembling, thighs slick and aching.
Then—
Tongue.
Hyunjin drops to his knees behind me without a sound, and the first stroke of his tongue is brutal—long, firm, intentional. I cry out against my hand, but it’s muffled, barely a squeak.
He groans softly. “Fuck, she’s even sweeter than last time.”
Chan’s fingers tangle in my hair, holding me upright. “Careful,” he whispers, leaning close. “We’ve got ten minutes left, and I want a taste too.”
Hyunjin doesn’t stop. In fact, he doubles down—hands gripping my thighs to spread me wider, tongue circling my clit with obscene focus, one finger sliding inside me so gently it makes my eyes roll.
I nearly scream.
Chan presses his lips to my temple, voice low and reverent. “You’re shaking. You’re gonna come just from his mouth, aren’t you?”
I nod frantically, moaning against my palm.
Hyunjin adds a second finger.
My legs give out, and only Chan’s grip on my waist keeps me from collapsing completely.
“Let her,” Chan says, softly now. “Let her come, Jinnie. Quick and messy. We’ll clean her up after.”
That’s all it takes.
Hyunjin sucks my clit deep into his mouth, fingers curling inside me just right—and I shatter. It’s fast and intense and silent, just as promised. My body jerks forward, mouth open but soundless, vision swimming as waves of pleasure roll through me in thick, aching pulses.
I slump forward, barely upright, my thighs soaked.
Hyunjin stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes glassy.
Chan kisses me—deep, slow, devouring. “You okay?”
I nod.
But I know it’s not over.
Hyunjin grabs my hips, flipping me around to face them.
“We’ve got six minutes,” he pants. “Someone better fuck her.”
Chan’s already unzipping his pants when Hyunjin moves behind me again, lifting me onto the counter like I weigh nothing.
“Hold her open for me,” Chan tells him, voice low, tight. Commanding.
Hyunjin does—kneeling slightly, hands firm on my inner thighs, spreading me wide as Chan steps between them.
His cock is flushed and hard, glistening at the tip as he fists it once, twice, eyes locked on mine.
“This what you wanted?” he murmurs. “All that squirming during the set. You couldn’t stand still.”
My whole body is shaking.
“Please,” I whisper, voice barely there.
Chan slides in all at once—deep, thick, unforgiving—and I nearly scream from the stretch.
Hyunjin slaps a hand over my mouth. “No noise,” he breathes against my temple. “You’ll get us all in trouble.”
Chan starts to move, hard and fast from the first thrust, hips snapping into mine with brutal rhythm. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the small room, too loud, too filthy—and it only makes him go harder.
“Look at her,” Hyunjin growls, watching my body jerk against the counter. “She’s taking it like she needs it.”
Chan’s hand finds my throat, not tight, just present. Grounding. Possessive. His forehead is pressed to mine, breath hot and ragged. “You wanted to be front and center?” he pants. “You want to see what we become on stage?”
I nod—frantic—tears blurring my vision.
“This is what you do to us, angel.”
Hyunjin drops his hand from my mouth and trails it between my legs, thumb circling my clit again in tight, focused pressure. My whole body arcs.
“She’s gonna come again,” he murmurs. “Look at her.”
Chan doesn’t stop. He can’t. His rhythm stutters, breath catching as I clamp around him, walls fluttering with the buildup of a second orgasm that feels even more intense than the first.
“Come for us,” Chan says, low and desperate. “Come right now.”
And I do.
Silently. Completely.
My back bows, thighs twitching, mouth open in a silent scream as I unravel around him. He groans into my neck, hips stuttering once, twice—
Then he follows. Hot and sudden, buried deep, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
It’s devastating.
For a moment, all I hear is our breathing.
My legs dangle uselessly off the counter. Chan is still inside me, forehead pressed to my shoulder, chest heaving. Hyunjin’s arms wrap around both of us, holding us up, anchoring all three of our boneless bodies together.
Then—
A knock on the door. One short, two fast. Showtime.
Chan pulls out with a hiss, immediately reaching for a towel. Hyunjin helps me stand, kissing my cheek and grabbing my jeans from the floor.
No words.
Just practiced chaos.
They clean me quickly, urgently—hands gentle but rushed, brushing sweat-soaked hair from my face as I fumble to redress with trembling fingers.
“You okay?” Chan whispers, kissing the corner of my mouth.
I nod, still not able to speak.
He kisses me again, soft this time. “Back in the audience. VIP entrance. Now.”
Hyunjin flashes a wicked smile as he pulls on his overshirt, already halfway out the door. “Enjoy the second half, baby.”
And then they’re gone—racing down the hallway like they didn’t just wreck me completely in a backstage dressing room.
I lean back against the counter, trying to breathe.
Trying to walk. Trying to survive the rest of this concert.

***

The cab ride back to the dorm is a blur.
I don’t even remember climbing the stairs. I just remember getting through the front door, shoes kicked off, light jacket half-on, and stumbling toward the couch like I’ve been shot.
My legs are jelly. My underwear is ruined. My body is still humming from everything that just happened backstage—and everything that happened before that, under the lights, in front of thousands.
And now it’s quiet.
For exactly two minutes.
I barely have time to take a deep breath—just one—before the back door slams open like a cannon blast.
Suddenly, the dorm is alive.
Shouting. Laughing. Shoes thudding across the floor. A backpack hitting the wall. Someone yelling “I’M SHOWERING FIRST, SUCKERS” while someone else retaliates by throwing a towel.
And then they pour in—all eight of them.
Felix is glowing, dimples out, already pulling off his jacket. Han’s dripping sweat and grinning like a gremlin. Seungmin is yelling at someone about using up all the cold drinks. Jeongin practically slides into the hallway, shirt already half-off.
Chan and Hyunjin come in last.
And the second I see them again—drenched in sweat, flushed and radiant, muscles still twitching with leftover adrenaline—I fold.
My thighs clench automatically. I curl tighter into the couch, gripping a pillow like it’s my last line of defense.
Because they smell divine.
Not like cologne. Not like body spray.
They smell like heat and salt and stage lights. Like skin and leather and a little leftover hair product. Like lust and victory and mine.
Hyunjin locks eyes with me from across the room and smirks—that smirk—and I nearly combust.
Chan’s shirt is soaked through, his chest outlined beneath the fabric, and when he catches me looking, he tosses me a wink like he knows I’m still dripping from what they did to me an hour ago.
“Hey, angel,” he calls casually, voice hoarse from the concert. “You make it home okay?”
Barely.
I don’t answer. I can’t. I’m just a twitching mess on the couch, watching as eight beautiful, chaotic, perfect men slowly strip and stretch and yell and laugh around me like they didn’t just rewrite my entire nervous system.
Felix throws himself down next to me, his skin warm and damp. “You looked so cute out there,” he says, pulling my legs across his lap like it’s nothing. “I was watching from side stage.”
I whimper.
He grins. “You okay?”
No. Not even a little.
And it’s about to get worse—because Minho walks in shirtless with a bottle of water, takes one look at me, raises a brow, and says, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I wish it were a ghost.
Ghosts don’t smell like sex and sweat and artistry.
Ghosts don’t throw you against a vanity and fuck you silent.
I bury my face in the pillow and let out a sound that’s somewhere between a sob and a moan.
“I think,” Hyunjin murmurs behind me, “we broke her.”
“I think,” Chan replies, “she liked it.”
I hear him before I see him.
Minho, padding closer across the living room floor with the slow, deliberate steps of someone who already knows exactly what he’s going to do.
I don’t look up. I can’t. My heart is pounding. My skin is already flushed, and Felix’s warm hands on my shins aren’t helping.
“Hmm,” Minho hums, voice low and casual. “What’s this?”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
He sits on my other side. Slowly. Carefully. Like a predator crouching next to cornered prey.
I feel the heat of his body first. The clean salt-sweat of his skin. Then the faintest brush of his thigh against mine.
Oh no.
“I was right,” he murmurs, leaning in until his lips are close to my ear. “You’re wrecked.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
I still don’t look at him. I can’t move. I just grip the pillow tighter and bury my face deeper into the fabric, trying to disappear.
But Minho’s not going to let that happen.
“You lasted longer than I thought,” he continues, his voice a little darker now, his breath brushing the curve of my cheek. “But I saw you during Case 143. You flinched every time one of us got too close to the edge of the stage.”
I whimper into the pillow.
He chuckles.
“Chan and Hyunjin did a number on you, huh?” he adds, shifting closer. “Or was it the rest of us too? Let me guess…”
His fingers trail up the outside of my thigh, not touching skin—just denim. Just enough to make my whole body tense.
“Felix and his pretty back,” he murmurs. “Changbin’s arms. Jeongin looking grown as hell. Seungmin’s smirk during S-Class…”
He pauses, just long enough for me to peek up at him.
And he’s close. Too close. Smirking.
Sweaty. Shirtless.
Radiating post-show alpha energy like it’s nothing.
“And me,” he finishes, voice barely a whisper. “Drenched. Powerful. Loud. Bet you liked that, didn’t you?”
I make a small, broken noise—somewhere between a squeak and a please.
His eyes flash.
And then—he leans in.
Not quite a kiss. Just… his mouth grazing the edge of mine. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of his lips. Smell the sweat still drying on his skin.
“You’re twitching,” he whispers. “What should we do about that?”
I feel a second set of eyes on me—Felix, still lounging beside me, watching quietly now. Not teasing. Just watching.
It’s too much.
All of them.
Too beautiful.
Too close.
Too them.
And I’m the match that’s already been lit.

Chapter 15

Minho leans in close.
So close I can feel the heat of him radiating off his skin, the sweat still clinging to his jaw, the sharp scent of stage lights and aftershave. His hand brushes the side of my face, knuckles grazing my cheek like he’s testing the air between us.
Then he pauses. He doesn’t move. He just looks at me. Right into me.
Dark eyes searching mine, focused and still. Not asking with words, but everything in his gaze says: Is this okay? Do you want this too?
And I know what he’s doing.
He’s giving me a moment. A choice.
My breath stutters.
I don’t look away. I don’t pull back. I lean in.
That’s all it takes.
Minho closes the distance and kisses me—slow at first, deliberate. His lips are soft, his hand slipping behind my neck to hold me steady as he deepens it. It’s not a teasing kiss. Not playful. It’s full-bodied, grounding. Real.
And I feel it in every nerve.
Like something’s being rewritten inside me.
By the time we part, I’m shaking all over.
And then I notice it.
The shift in the room.
Because I’m not the only one who saw that kiss as something more.
Chan and Hyunjin are watching.
Silent. Still. Not jealous. Not angry.
Just… turned on.
Chan’s eyes are darker now, his chest rising slowly beneath his damp t-shirt. Hyunjin hasn’t moved, lips parted slightly, pupils blown wide. They saw everything—and they let it happen.
Minho glances at them over my shoulder. Then back at me.
A soft, secret smile curves his mouth.
“You can love them,” he says quietly, “and still belong to all of us.”
When Minho pulls back, the world doesn’t come rushing back in. It pauses.
Like the room is holding its breath.
His eyes stay on mine for a second longer, thumb brushing my jaw—gentle, grounding. My lips are tingling. My pulse is roaring in my ears. My legs are still slung across Felix’s lap, and I suddenly remember…
Felix.
I turn to him on instinct, wide-eyed and panicked, unsure what I’ll see.
But he doesn’t look shocked. He looks… soft.
His expression is open, eyes wide and shining like stars, his bottom lip caught slightly between his teeth. He’s not recoiling. He’s not confused.
He’s just watching. Like he knew this was going to happen. Like maybe… he was hoping it would.
My stomach flips.
Felix shifts one of his hands, trailing his fingers lightly up and down my shin, not saying a word. But there’s something in the way he’s holding me now - tender, curious. Present.
And then -
My gaze shifts back across the room. Chan and Hyunjin still haven’t moved.
They’re still watching.
And something in my chest breaks at the sight of them. Not because they’re upset…but because they’re not.
Chan’s arms are folded loosely across his chest, one brow lifted slightly, like he’s… assessing. Considering. But his mouth is tilted up at the corners, a hint of something approving behind his eyes. Hyunjin is watching me like I’ve just done something holy. His eyes are wide, glassy. He looks a little stunned - but not by jealousy.
By wonder.
They’re letting it happen. More than that. They want it to.
Something settles into my bones in that moment. A sense of understanding. Of permission. Of invitation. This isn’t a breach. It’s an opening.
I don’t just belong to Chan and Hyunjin. I belong here. To them.
All of them. And I think… maybe I always have?
Felix’s fingers trace another slow line along my shin, and then he shifts—just slightly—so I’m looking at him again.
His expression hasn’t changed. Still soft. Still open.
But there’s a different kind of glow in his eyes now. Something knowing.
“I’ve been waiting for that,” he says quietly, nodding once toward Minho. “For someone to finally do it.”
My breath catches. Minho leans back a little, one arm draped along the back of the couch behind me, casual again - but not indifferent. Never that.
Felix smiles, just barely. “We’ve all been feeling it. For weeks. Maybe longer.”
He glances across the room at Chan and Hyunjin.
“They see it too,” he says. “They’re not scared of it.”
I follow his gaze, expecting maybe a nod or a small smile. But what I get instead—
Hyunjin. Stepping forward.
He doesn’t say anything. He just places his hand over his heart, like it’s the only way he can express what he’s feeling. Like it’s too much for words.
And Chan? Chan smiles. Not small. Not subtle.
He glows.
From the kitchen, the conversation begins to fade. A pause.
A clink of chopsticks hitting ceramic. A faint wait, what’s going on? from Jeongin.
Then silence.
One by one, the others appear in the living room doorway—first Han, lips still parted around a mouthful of food, eyebrows raised. Then Changbin, towel around his neck, tank top still damp from the concert. Seungmin follows, slower, quieter, his gaze sharp and knowing.
Jeongin trails behind them, in sweats and a baseball cap he hasn’t taken off all night.
They take in the scene.
Me. On the couch. Minho close at my side. Felix’s hand still curled around my ankle, his voice lingering in the air. Chan and Hyunjin standing just a few feet away, silent and so clearly okay with this.
None of them speak.
They don’t need to.
Because the air says it all.
It buzzes with unspoken understanding. Recognition.
This isn’t drama.
This isn’t confusion.
This is inevitable.
Minho’s kiss didn’t crack something open—it revealed what was already there.
Jeongin shifts first, stepping closer with that soft, slightly crooked grin of his. He places his ball cap gently on my head, tugging the brim low over my eyes with a little tilt of affection.
“You okay, noona?” he asks, English clumsy but sweet.
I nod, smiling.
Seungmin, from across the room, lifts his water bottle toward me. A silent cheers.
Han lingers by the wall, one hand on his hip, studying us all with quiet amusement. “Well,” he says after a moment, voice calm but mischievous. “Took us long enough.”
The room is quiet. Not awkward. Not hesitant. Just… waiting.
My breath is shaky. My pulse hammers in my throat. And then—
Minho shifts.
Subtle. Fluid. His thigh brushes closer to mine. His arm drops from the back of the couch to my shoulder, fingers dragging slow along the curve of my collarbone. Claiming.
Felix follows.
He shifts my legs more fully into his lap, his hand sliding up from my ankle to the back of my calf. Not innocent anymore. No longer a comforting touch. It’s firmer. Possessive. His thumb brushes in slow, deliberate circles over the inside of my knee.
My breath catches.
They don’t look at me. They look at the others.
Minho’s eyes meet Chan’s, steady and open. Felix turns his head slightly, gaze flicking to Hyunjin, then Han, then the rest. Checking. Not for permission. But for readiness.
And every single one of them…
Stays.
No one looks away.
Hyunjin bites his bottom lip and shifts his weight like he’s imagining touching me right now. Chan’s jaw ticks once, his arms dropping to his sides, fists clenching.
Seungmin is unreadable—quiet, but interested.
Han leans against the wall like he’s watching a live performance—eyes dark, playful, but serious underneath.
Jeongin sits on the arm of the nearby chair, silent now, lips parted just slightly, cap still on my head like a crown.
And Changbin—Changbin—he watches like he’s starving.
The air thickens. My skin is burning.
Minho’s hand moves higher—his palm flat against my sternum now, thumb brushing beneath the edge of my collar. He leans in, nose grazing my jaw.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, low and warm.
I can’t. I won’t.
Because I don’t want to.
Felix’s fingers press gently into my thigh, stroking upward—inch by inch.
And when I glance up—
All of them are watching.
Eight pairs of eyes. Eight hearts.
Eight beautiful, dangerous, mine.
And the only thought I have left is— I want them all.
Minho’s fingers tug gently at the collar of my shirt, exposing more skin - shoulder, collarbone, the slope of my throat. His mouth follows seconds later.
Hot.
Open.
Searing.
He kisses me there - slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to devour me piece by piece. Felix is just as greedy, in his own soft, devastating way. His hand slips under the hem of my shorts, trailing up the back of my thigh, settling high—too high—his palm warm and possessive.
They work in tandem. Every inch they touch burns. Every breath I take feels like a countdown.
Minho’s tongue flicks against my pulse point.
Felix presses a kiss to the inside of my knee.
The room is watching. I can feel it. The tension is thick, humming.
I want more. I want all of them. And I know now—I don’t have to hide that.
I don’t.
A quiet shuffle to my left draws my attention. I blink through the haze of heat just as someone lowers himself to the floor beside the couch.
Jeongin.
He’s kneeling.
His hat still on my head, his gaze shy but sure. He folds his hands on the edge of the cushion, like he’s praying. His cheeks are pink, his chest rising fast—but his voice is steady when he speaks.
“Can I…?” he asks softly, eyes locked on mine. “Noona, can I touch you too?”
The world stops.
Felix’s hand stills on my thigh.
Minho’s lips leave my skin, eyes flicking toward the younger boy with a look I can’t quite read—but it’s not disapproval.
It’s curiosity.
I look down at Jeongin.
He’s nervous. But not uncertain. He wants me.
Me.
And he’s asking. Waiting. Letting me decide. My chest aches.
I reach out, my fingers sliding gently into his hair, and I nod.
“Yes,” I whisper. “You can.”
His eyes light up like I’ve handed him the stars.
Jeongin shifts closer, slow and cautious, like he’s afraid I’ll change my mind. I won’t. My hand stays in his hair, anchoring him, guiding him. He looks up once more—checking. Still asking. And I nod again, breath shallow.
That’s all he needs.
He leans in.
And the first kiss lands just above my navel—soft, barely there, like he’s testing what it means to touch me like this. My stomach trembles beneath his lips. He kisses me again, lower now. Then higher. A trail of delicate heat across my skin. My shirt is bunched up, his hands sliding gently beneath the fabric to settle at my waist. Not pushing. Just holding.
Then his mouth moves to my side, lips brushing the edge of my ribcage, warm and open.
He breathes me in.
Like he wants to remember this forever.
Each kiss is careful. Pressed into my hips, my ribs, the soft curve just beneath my breast. He’s not rushing. He’s memorizing.
Minho leans back slightly, giving Jeongin space—but his hand stays at my shoulder, thumb stroking slow. Felix doesn’t move either, except to curl his fingers tighter around my thigh, his grip just a little more firm now, protective.
I tilt my head, glancing down at Jeongin, and—
God. His eyes are closed. He’s not looking at anyone else. Not even at me. He’s just… in it.
Worshiping.
My stomach pulls tight. My skin is flushed, tingling. I’ve never felt so exposed—and never so safe.
“Jeongin,” I whisper, my voice breaking on his name.
He looks up. His lips are pink. His cheeks flushed. And when he meets my gaze again, there’s no hesitation anymore. Only want. And love.
And something hungry just under the surface.
Jeongin gets bolder. Slowly. Respectfully.
His hands slide further under my shirt, smoothing up over my stomach, fingers splayed wide like he’s trying to cover as much of me as he can. He kisses just beneath my ribs again, but this time—lingers. Tongue flicking out, lips parting against my skin.
A quiet whimper escapes me.
Felix presses a kiss to the inside of my knee, then higher. His hand strokes my outer thigh, curling possessively around the softness there as his mouth finds the place just beneath the hem of my shorts and stays.
Minho turns my head gently toward him, one knuckle beneath my chin.
“Breathe for us, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and kisses me again - deep, coaxing, slow enough to burn.
My body is shaking now. My nerves are lit. The pleasure is no longer compartmentalized—it’s everywhere.
Three mouths. Three very different sets of hands. One on my lips. One on my thighs. One carefully mapping the expanse of my stomach and hips like I’m something fragile.
Jeongin kisses just beneath my breast—too close—and I gasp, instinctively arching into the contact.
Minho groans softly against my mouth. “That’s it.”
I think I moan. Or sob. Or beg. I’m not sure anymore.
I open my eyes—
And see them. The rest.
Han.
Changbin.
Seungmin.
Hyunjin.
Chan.
All five of them. Watching. Silent…still.
But nothing about them is calm.
Hyunjin’s pupils are blown wide, his hand wrapped tight around his own wrist like he’s holding himself back. Seungmin’s lips are parted, chest rising with deep, deliberate breaths. Han has moved closer, arms folded—but there’s a flush creeping up his neck, and the way he’s watching me? Starving. Changbin looks like he’s about to combust. He’s sitting, but he’s practically vibrating—jaw clenched, eyes locked on my chest like he’s already imagined tasting every inch of me.
And Chan.
Chan is the quietest of them all.
Still standing. Still unmoving. But his eyes are dark fire. There’s no fear there. No hesitation. Just raw, consuming heat. The kind that says: This is what I wanted. All along.
And I—
I can’t anymore.
I try to speak. To moan. To do something.
But all that comes out is a shattered breath, my fingers clutching Minho’s shirt like a lifeline as Jeongin's lips part against the soft skin beneath my ribs and Felix’s mouth trails higher—
And I break. Something’s happening inside me.
Not just arousal—not just the heat low in my belly, the pulsing ache between my legs, the flush blooming down my chest. It’s more.
I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. Breaking open.
My hands clutch at Minho’s shirt, but my hips lift into Felix’s touch, and my ribs tremble beneath Jeongin’s open-mouthed kisses. My breath comes in short, desperate bursts, and I can't tell whose hand is where—only that I want more of all of them.
Minho whispers something against my neck, but I can’t make out the words. I only feel the heat of him—his mouth dragging down the column of my throat, his hand sliding beneath my shirt to palm the curve of my breast.
Felix presses kisses to the inside of my thigh, dangerously high now, his tongue flicking just once where the fabric ends and my skin begins. I whimper—no, I sob—and Jeongin groans under his breath, like my unraveling is too much for him to bear.
They’re worshipping me.
Tasting me like they’ve been starving for this. Like I’m the center of something sacred and they’ve only just been granted permission to kneel. My hips are writhing now—arching, pleading, chasing contact. My legs shake, my breath stutters, my lips are parted, wet, trying to find air that doesn’t exist anymore.
All that’s left is need. I want to be filled. Held. Claimed. I want every part of me touched and kissed and used until I forget where I end and they begin.
I glance up—
And the rest of them are still watching. No one speaks. No one blinks. They’re all frozen in this moment with me, eyes dark, hungry, waiting. For the dam to break. For someone to move.
And I want it. All of it.
“Please,” I whisper—beg.
Minho pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
“What do you want, baby?”
I don’t hesitate.
“You,” I breathe. “All of you.”
The moment the words “you—all of you” leave my lips, everything fractures.
Minho growls—growls—low in his throat, and his mouth crashes into mine, all heat and teeth and desperation. His hand squeezes my breast, thumb flicking over the peak until I moan into him.
Felix’s mouth dives between my thighs, hot breath ghosting over soaked fabric before he buries his face deeper—hungrier.
Jeongin makes a sound I’ve never heard from him before—something between a gasp and a whimper—as he pulls my shirt higher, kissing up the curve of my side, chest rising fast beneath his palms. His hands are shaking. His mouth is not.
They’re devouring me. All restraint is gone.
Three pairs of hands. Three ravenous mouths.
My body arches, writhes, breaks beneath them, and still—it’s not enough. I’m crying out now, high and broken and so far gone I can barely remember my name.
And around me, the others—
I can hear them. Groans. Heavy breathing.
The shifting of weight and the subtle, unmistakable sounds of their own hands working under sweatpants and shorts. They’re touching themselves. Watching me. Watching this.
And then—everything shifts again.
Because suddenly, hands are gripping my waist.
Minho and Felix fall away with startled, breathless groans. Jeongin blinks up at me, lips wet, cheeks flushed—and then stumbles back just as a firm grip slides beneath my thighs and shoulders.
I’m lifted.
Hauled.
Over a shoulder.
My view spins—rug, couch, ceiling—until I realize whose arms I’m in.
Chan.
Silent. Focused.
His body radiates heat and control, his grip on me like steel. He says nothing—not a single word—as he marches straight out of the living room, up the stairs, toward his bedroom.
Footsteps follow.
All of them.
No one asks. No one questions.
Because they know exactly what this means.
This is happening.
The door to his room swings open.
And I know— I’m not just theirs.
They’re mine.
And tonight, I’ll feel what that really means.
Chan doesn’t say a word as he carries me to his bed. His hands are firm, but gentle—careful with me. And when he sets me down in the middle of his bed, I feel it.
The weight of everything.
It’s not a physical weight. It’s the intensity. The charge in the air. The way every one of them is already undone—eyes darker, breath heavier, hands moving restlessly against the fabric of their pants.
The door is wide open.
There’s no need to close it.
There’s no need for privacy anymore.
Because this is ours.
All of it.
I watch them—watching me. Minho, Felix, Jeongin, Han, Changbin, Seungmin, Hyunjin. Chan, still standing tall above me, eyes locked with mine like I’m his world.
He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t demand.
But I can feel his command in the very air between us. He’s setting the pace. Setting the tone. And the others—every one of them—follows his lead.
“I’m going to lay the rules out now,” he says, his voice steady. Quiet. But it’s powerful. It lands. “We’re going to take care of you, Emily. All of us. But only if you want it. If you need it. Don’t hesitate to tell us.”
His hand brushes my cheek, his fingers tracing over my skin like he’s memorizing the feel of me.
“You are in control here,” he continues. “If you need a break, if you’re not sure, you say it. Everything is about what you want, what you need. Understand?”
I nod. I can barely find my voice.
I know it’s him saying it, but it’s not just for me.
It’s for them too.
For all of us.
The others are standing just outside the bed now, making no move to touch me. Not yet. They’re watching. Waiting. They know.
Minho, eyes dark, his lips curled into a small smile, settles into a chair beside the bed.
Felix, still as hungry as ever, stands in front of me, hands tucked loosely in his pockets.
Jeongin is closer now, his chest rising and falling fast, but he stays quiet. His eyes are soft on me, respectful.
And then the others begin to find their places—Han and Seungmin to my right, Changbin and Hyunjin leaning against the doorframe, their stares burning.
They’re waiting.
The room has shifted again.
It’s not just the heat now. It’s the control. Chan is holding the reins—calm and steady.
And with that steady rhythm, he leans down, whispering in my ear:
“Tonight, we take it slow. Let them worship you, Emily. Let them adore you.”
I shiver at the words. And as he stands back up, the tension crackles in the room. Every pair of eyes is on me, waiting.
The quiet builds.
The pulse of the moment thickens.
And I feel it.
All of it.
I’m ready.
Chan stands back, his gaze unwavering, but it’s not controlling. It’s trusting. He’s given me the space to breathe, to process, to choose. And as his eyes flick to Minho, then Felix, then Jeongin, I know it’s time for them to continue.
I can feel the weight of it. The undeniable heat building between us.
Minho’s eyes are darker now—more predatory—but there’s no cruelty there. Only hunger. The same hunger I felt when he kissed me earlier. When his hands touched me and made me feel like I was everything.
He reaches for me now—slow, deliberate. His fingers brush over my lips, gentle, before his hand moves lower, caressing the side of my neck. His touch is confident, like he’s known every part of me for years. Like he’s been waiting to claim me again.
Felix is next, settling at my side. His mouth hovers over the edge of my shoulder, but he doesn’t kiss me—not yet. His breath is hot against my skin, and his hand slides beneath my thigh, lifting it just slightly to let him settle between my legs, his lips brushing my calf.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice softer than I expected. Worshipful. His touch is delicate, yet there’s a yearning in it that makes me ache. His mouth moves upward, a soft kiss against my skin, right below my knee, and then higher. He’s tracing a line—his lips, his tongue—until he reaches the place just beneath my shorts again. I can feel his breath against the delicate skin there, teasing, torturing, pulling a desperate groan from my throat.
Jeongin, ever gentle, kneels at my feet now. His eyes flick between me and the others, watching, but never imposing. He’s learning - still taking in every part of me. His fingers brush my inner thigh, so soft and patient, before his lips follow suit. The tender kisses he places there send shivers through me, the sensation so light, so careful. But it’s no less devouring. His mouth moves higher, toward the curve of my hips, then back down again.
“I’ll be careful,” Jeongin whispers, the words a promise.
And I believe him.
Minho’s mouth finds mine once more, claiming my lips with a renewed urgency, a kiss so deep, so hungry, I can barely breathe through it. But I don’t want to. I want more.
Felix’s kisses are all over me now—pressing, sucking, tracing the sensitive skin on my neck, my collarbone, each touch a mark that will stay long after tonight.
Jeongin follows them, a steady, rhythmic motion, his lips brushing my skin like a soft prayer. His hands slide beneath my shirt again, pushing it up to expose more of me to them. I feel every inch of my body, every nerve ending alive with the intensity of their touch.
They’re not asking for permission anymore. They’re not waiting. They’re taking. But in the most reverent way. And I’m giving. I’m giving everything.
Chan’s eyes are still on me. And I know he’s watching.
But he’s not pushing. Not now.
It’s their turn.

Chapter 16

Minho’s hand slides beneath my shirt again—slow, confident—and this time, he lifts it higher. I raise my arms without thinking, breath caught in my throat as he pulls it off over my head and tosses it aside.
There’s no rush. No one lunges. No one grabs. They look.
All three of them.
And God, the way they look at me—
Like I’m made of sunlight and starlight and every impossible thing.
Felix leans in first, placing the softest kiss at the center of my chest, right above my heart.
“You’re safe,” he whispers. “You’re ours.”
His hands slide up my sides, thumbs stroking the skin just beneath the band of my bra. He doesn’t unclasp it yet. He just touches. Warm. Waiting. Minho moves next—his hand slipping between my legs, not touching where I need yet, but hovering so close I gasp. His mouth finds my neck again, his lips dragging up to my ear.
“You want to be touched here?” he asks, fingers finally pressing against the soaked fabric of my underwear. “Like this?”
I choke on a moan and nod. “Yes,” I breathe. “God—yes.”
He groans—actually groans—and I feel the sound deep in my spine.
Jeongin, sweet, reverent Jeongin, lets his lips trail down my stomach, kissing the hollow beneath my bellybutton, then lower. His hands are shaking, but he doesn’t stop. He slides my shorts down with slow, trembling fingers. And when he sees the soaked-through fabric beneath, his breath hitches.
He looks up at me again—eyes blown, voice barely a whisper.
“Can I taste you?”
My heart stops. Because it’s not lewd. It’s pure.
He says it like a prayer. Like a plea. And I can’t say no.
I nod, breathless.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”
Minho helps him slide my underwear down, and Felix trails his fingers down my ribs while whispering praise after praise—"so beautiful," "so perfect," "look at what we do to you."
Then—
Jeongin leans in.
His tongue is hesitant at first. Just a small flick. A soft brush. But when I cry out—really cry out—something shifts.
He groans into me.
And then he’s everywhere.
Mouth open. Hands gripping my thighs. Eager, hungry, giving. Like this is the most important thing he’s ever done. Minho shifts to my side, kneeling over me, one hand gripping mine, the other stroking through my hair as he kisses down my chest, then gently tugs the straps of my bra off my shoulders.
Felix moves to my other side, fingers lacing with mine, his lips pressed to my temple.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “Just let go, Em. We’ve got you.”
My thighs are shaking now. Every nerve is fire. I’m not moaning anymore—I’m whimpering.
I’m crying out their names—Jeongin’s, Felix’s, Minho’s—body arching, unraveling, breaking open again and again beneath their mouths and hands and love.
This isn’t just sex. It’s worship. And I am falling. I’m floating. No—drowning.
In sensation, in heat, in the pulse-pounding awareness of every mouth, every hand, every breath on my skin.
Jeongin is between my thighs now, truly tasting me, like he was made for this. Like he’s never wanted anything more. His tongue moves with slow precision—exploring, learning, adapting with every gasp I give him. He finds a rhythm that shatters me, and when he wraps his lips around the aching bundle of nerves at the center of me, I sob.
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
His hands grip my thighs tighter, holding me open for him, steadying me as I writhe beneath him.
Minho’s lips have found my chest—kissing, sucking, teeth grazing the peak of one breast while his palm gently kneads the other. His mouth is warm and open and intentional, and when he closes his lips over me and suckles, I cry out again—helpless, overwhelmed.
“Fuck,” Minho breathes against my skin.
Felix’s hands slide down to my waist, gripping, grounding me as I tremble. He kisses my temple, then my cheek, whispering against my skin.
“You’re perfect like this. You have no idea how beautiful you are when you fall apart.”
I can feel him hard, pressed against my hip - he’s trembling, too. All of them are.
Because it’s not just me being touched. It’s all of us.
The room is heavy with it.
I glance through the haze, and—
The others are still watching. Still aching.
Han’s hand is moving beneath the waistband of his sweats, slow and deliberate, his mouth parted, eyes fixed on Jeongin between my legs like he’s watching the holiest act unfold.
Seungmin sits low in his chair, chin resting on one hand, the other slowly palming himself with restrained intensity. His stare is unblinking.
Changbin’s knuckles are white against the arms of his chair. He’s not touching himself—but only because if he starts, he won’t stop. His gaze is wild.
Hyunjin has moved closer, arms crossed over his chest, his entire posture tense like he’s ready to pounce the second he’s allowed.
And Chan—
God.
He’s standing at the edge of the bed, watching me like I’m something sacred. His jaw is clenched, his chest rising and falling slowly, one hand cupped around himself through his pants—just enough pressure to feel, but not enough to act.
He’s waiting.
Letting me have this.
Letting them give it to me.
I come back to Jeongin’s mouth—his tongue flicking over me faster now, more confidently. He’s moaning into me. Minho and Felix are still on either side of me, still kissing, touching, feeding me praise with every breath.
“Let go,” Minho whispers.
“You’re so close,” Felix breathes.
“Please,” Jeongin begs, eyes locked on mine from between my thighs. “I want to feel you come for me, noona. I want to taste it.”
And that’s what does it. My body snaps.
I come apart with a broken, breathless cry—my back arching, thighs clamping around Jeongin’s head, hands clutching at Minho and Felix like I’ll disappear if I let go.
It’s loud. It’s raw.
Jeongin doesn’t stop. He groans like he’s starving, licking me through every wave, and I swear I feel him tremble beneath me.
Felix is kissing the side of my neck, his hand stroking my hair, while Minho’s mouth drags down my jaw and over my lips again—taking the cry from my mouth into his own.
It’s not just a climax. It’s a consecration.
And I barely have time to catch my breath before I feel the mattress shift—
A strong hand on my hip. A quiet, commanding voice at my ear.
Chan.
“Now it’s my turn.”
I barely register the movement until I feel him.
Chan’s presence is unmistakable—solid, warm, commanding.
His hand curves around my hip, grounding me in place, and when he speaks, it’s low—dark.
“You did so well for them, baby.”
My heart stutters.
“Now you’re going to do even better for me.”
His fingers slide down my stomach, slow, steady, slipping between my legs—and I jolt, overstimulated, still pulsing, still soaked. He hums.
“Still so sensitive,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. “Good. Keep trembling for me.”
He lifts his eyes to the others, who are frozen—caught between arousal and curiosity.
“Don’t just watch,” Chan says, voice steady, clear, ironclad. “Touch yourselves. Let her see what she does to you.”
A ripple of motion. Clothes shift. Zippers lower.
And suddenly the room is alive with the sound of friction, breath, need.
Han’s eyes are locked on my thighs as he fists himself with a low groan. Seungmin’s hand moves slow and tight, mouth parted, whispering things in Korean too low for me to make out.
Hyunjin—God, Hyunjin’s eyes burn as he strokes himself without shame, licking his lips, completely consumed.
Changbin’s finally given in—one hand gripping the back of the chair, the other moving between his legs with sharp, precise rhythm.
And Jeongin, still kneeling between my thighs, lips and chin shining from my release, just stares in awe. His hands work beneath his waistband, eyes wide, lips parted, like he’s not sure if he’s still dreaming.
Felix and Minho are still beside me, but quieter now—watching Chan, watching me.
Waiting for what comes next.
Chan tugs me gently, guiding me into his lap as he sits back on the bed. I’m straddling him now, bare, breathless, soaked and undone.
He’s still fully clothed. And so fucking hard beneath me.
“You feel that?” he asks, rocking his hips up just once. I cry out—needy, aching.
“Every single one of us is hard for you. Every one of us wants to fill you up, make you scream, ruin you—”
His mouth is at my ear now.
“But you don’t get ruined, do you, baby?”
I shake my head, panting.
“No,” I gasp. “I—I can take it.”
He growls low.
“Good girl.”
He slides a hand between my legs again, fingers circling gently—too gently.
“Let them watch,” he murmurs, “while I show them how to take their time.”
The heat crackles. The air is thick—sticky, electric, filthy. The sound of breath and skin and moaning surrounds me, and I—
I want to be filled.
Stretched. Devoured. I want all of them.
And Chan knows it.
“Tonight,” he says, loud enough for them all to hear, “we make her ours. All the way.”
And the others—
They move. Like wolves off the leash.
Chan adjusts me in his lap with effortless strength, one hand gripping my thigh, the other pressed flat against the small of my back. His movements are unhurried—deliberate. He’s not racing to the finish.
He’s building a blueprint.
“I need you to stay open for me,” he says softly, the words vibrating against my ear as he kisses the side of my neck. “They’re all watching, baby. Show them what it looks like when someone earns your trust.”
I shiver. Because I do trust him. Completely.
His fingers slide down, spreading me with practiced ease. I cry out—already sensitive, still trembling from before—and he groans like he’s feeling it, too.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs. “So fucking ready.”
He doesn’t tease. Not this time. One smooth motion—and he’s inside.
Deep.
My body takes him—eager, aching, desperate—and I moan loud enough that heads turn. Hands freeze mid-stroke. Breath catches in chests.
Chan grips my hips tighter, grounding me, keeping me steady.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “Let them see you take it. All of it.”
I drop my head against his shoulder, nails digging into his back as he starts to move—slow, deep thrusts that stretch me perfectly. He’s thick, and every inch drags along nerves already frayed from earlier. I gasp, then sob as he finds that spot that makes my vision white out. My thighs quake. My spine arches.
And Chan—he smiles.
Not in arrogance.
In awe.
“You were made for this,” he says, voice low and reverent. “Made for me. For us.”
He shifts me higher, changing the angle, and when he thrusts again—harder—I scream.
“Let her feel it,” he calls to the others, his voice suddenly commanding again. “Come here.”
And they do.
Hands—everywhere.
Minho to my left, leaning in, fingers brushing my jaw as he watches Chan disappear into me again and again.
Felix behind me, lips on my shoulder, his hand stroking himself slow and steady, breath hot against my skin.
Jeongin beside the bed, lips parted, his gaze locked between my thighs.
Hyunjin at the foot of the bed, eyes on fire, licking his lips.
Changbin kneels beside Felix, one hand on his own cock, the other brushing along my shin like he needs to touch something to keep himself grounded.
Seungmin leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching—studying the way Chan’s body moves with mine.
And Han—he’s the closest now, crouching by the edge of the bed, eyes wide with awe. His hand is still moving between his legs, but slower now, more focused.
They’re all entranced.
By me. By this. By Chan’s every thrust, every breath, every command.
“Watch her face,” Chan says, panting now, thrusts growing harder. “See what she looks like when someone puts her first.”
I can barely speak. Barely think.
Pleasure coils, spirals, tightens deep in my core, threatening to snap again—but this time, it’s more. It’s bigger. It’s not just from Chan’s cock or his words—it’s from the hands, the mouths, the eyes all around me.
I feel worshipped.
I feel perfect.
“Are you gonna come again for me?” Chan grits out, voice wrecked. “Let them see it, baby. Let them feel what you sound like when you fall apart.”
And I do. God, I do.
I shatter in his arms, crying out so loud it silences the room—my whole body convulsing, clinging to him, held up only by his strength. He comes seconds later, deep inside me with a groan that sounds like devotion.
And when it’s over—when I’m a trembling, gasping mess in his lap—Chan doesn’t let go.
He brushes my hair back, kisses my shoulder, then lifts his head to the rest of them.
“She’s ready,” he says.
I’m still trembling when Chan lifts me off his lap, hands gentle, careful, like I’m precious cargo. He lays me back onto the sheets, and the way he brushes my hair from my face—God. I could cry from that alone.
But then he turns to the others.
“She’s ready,” he repeats, voice hoarse but steady. “Be good to her.”
And then he steps back—close enough to stay present, but giving the others room to move.
Minho is first. Of course he is.
He’s already kneeling at the edge of the bed, one hand stroking himself, the other reaching for me. I open to him instinctively, still breathless, still soaked.
“You sure?” he murmurs, hovering just above me, searching my eyes one last time.
I nod, and when I whisper, “Please,” he groans like it hurts.
Then he’s inside. Thick. Rough. Devastating.
He doesn’t move right away. He just leans over me, our noses brushing, our breath mingling, his forehead pressed to mine. And when he finally thrusts—slow and deep—I scream.
My voice breaks on his name. My nails rake down his back. And he just smiles, lips brushing my ear. “God, you feel unreal,” he breathes. “I never imagined,”
His rhythm builds—harsh, gorgeous, devastating—and that’s when Felix joins in again, crawling up to my side, kissing down the slope of my neck to my breast.
He takes his time with me. Mouth open, sucking one nipple deep into his mouth as Minho thrusts harder—and I’m gone again. Crying out. Writhing between them.
Jeongin is at my feet, still touching himself, still watching with those wide, curious eyes.
And then he moves—climbing onto the bed beside me, kissing my stomach, my thighs, my everything.
He doesn’t ask this time. He knows.
His mouth finds me again just above where Minho’s body is driving into mine. And it’s filthy—the way his tongue laps at the slick mess of me, the way he moans while doing it.
“I’ve got her,” Jeongin breathes. “Let me help—let me—”
“Fuck,” Minho groans, hips stuttering as Jeongin’s tongue brushes over his cock every time he thrusts. “You’re gonna kill me.”
And still—I can’t stop moaning. I can’t stop giving.
It’s too much. But I need more.
Hands on my breasts. Mouths on my thighs. A cock inside me, another tongue above it, and I’m—
Gone.
Somewhere in the chaos, Han joins the bed, and he grins down at me like he’s waited his whole life to be this close. “I can’t believe this is real,” he whispers, brushing hair from my face. “You’re—Jesus, Emily.” He kisses me. Gentle, sweet, but desperate. Like he wants to savor it. Like this is his favorite thing in existence.
Seungmin slides in behind him, watching the way I arch, the way I burn under them all. He doesn’t say much. But he touches—slow, reverent strokes down my ribs, my hips, my throat.
And then—Changbin. His voice is low, near my ear. “Can I hold your hands?”
I nod—barely—and he links his fingers with mine, pulling my arms above my head, holding me there while I’m falling apart all over again beneath Minho’s final thrusts.
When Minho comes, it’s loud and raw—his hips jerking, his body trembling, his mouth locked to my neck.
He pulls out carefully, breathless, pressing a kiss to my chest.
And then—Hyunjin. He’s already there, kneeling beside me. But he doesn’t move straight between my thighs. He leans in close, brushing my sweat-damp hair back, eyes searching mine. Deep brown and molten, full of something that hurts to look at—something too tender, too raw.
“Angel,” he whispers, his voice tight. “Look at me.”
I do. And I can barely breathe. Because he’s not just aroused. He’s in love.
With me. With this. With everything we’ve become.
He kisses me—slow and deep, like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His hand cradles the side of my face, thumb stroking over my cheek, and I melt into it, whimpering softly. “I’ve been waiting,” he breathes against my lips, “but I can’t anymore.”
I nod, barely, and he moves—settling between my thighs, hands guiding my legs around his waist.
When he presses into me, it’s slow. Intentional. Like he’s memorizing the feel of me. The stretch. The pull. The rightness.
“Oh, Hyun—” I sob, and his eyes flutter closed as he sinks in all the way, trembling.
His forehead presses to mine.
“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much, it hurts.”
His hips begin to move—slow and deep, every thrust dragging against the place that makes me shudder. But it’s not rushed. It’s not performative. It’s personal.
Everything else—the chaos, the watching eyes, the desperate moans—it all fades for a moment. There’s only him. My Hyunjinnie. His breath on my face. His hand on my jaw. His body inside mine. The tears in his eyes when he whispers again, “You’re mine, Emily.”
And I feel it. In every stroke. Every kiss. Every syllable.
And still—Felix is at my neck, his lips branding soft little kisses into my shoulder.
Jeongin’s fingers stroke gently between my thighs, syncing with Hyunjin’s movements, helping to draw the pleasure out longer, deeper.
Han kisses the swell of my breast.
Seungmin leans in close enough to press his lips to my knee, murmuring soft things I can’t understand.
And behind me—Changbin and Minho each hold one of my hands, grounding me, their palms warm and there.
Chan watches. Eyes locked on me. On us. Approving. Proud. Present.
I feel Hyunjin start to tremble harder—his thrusts growing desperate. “Let go,” I whisper, kissing his nose. He chokes on a moan, kissing me again—deep and messy and full of love—as he comes inside me with a soft, broken cry.
His body collapses into mine, chest heaving, arms wrapping around me like he’ll never let go. And I don’t want him to. Not ever. Hyunjin gently pulls out of me, moving over. He’s pressed against my left side, boneless and wrecked, face tucked into the crook of my neck. His arm stays draped across my waist, even though he’s panting too hard to speak.
“Still here,” he whispers, and I can feel the small smile against my skin. “Not going anywhere.” I turn my face, kiss his forehead.
“I know.”
And then—
Felix.
He’s already above me before I can reach for him, his hands bracketing my hips, his eyes wide and dark with everything he’s held back for too long.
“You sure?” he asks, breathless.
I nod.
“Been sure,” I whisper.
And that’s all he needs.
He leans down, kisses me deep—urgent, all tongue and heat and teeth grazing lips. His hips slot between mine, and when he presses forward, he moans against my mouth like it hurts to finally be inside me.
“God, Em—” he gasps. “You feel so—fuck, you feel amazing.”
His hips stutter once, then again—and I wrap my legs around him to keep him close, breath catching in my throat.
Felix is different from the others.
He burns.
Not rough. Not cruel. But fast. Frantic.
His forehead presses to mine as he begins to move—short, tight thrusts that hit deep, his hands stroking my sides, his mouth trailing over my cheek, my jaw, my throat like he needs to taste me everywhere.
“Wanted this for so long,” he groans. “Wanted to make you feel good—make you feel mine.”
And I do. God, I do. He’s panting, whispering praise and filth in alternating breaths.
“So good—so fucking wet—so perfect, Princess, you don’t even know—”
His rhythm falters just a little—and I can tell he’s close.
Jeongin is still on my other side, close now, lying beside me the way Hyunjin is, one hand stroking softly over my stomach, the other laced gently with my fingers. His eyes never leave my face.
“Is it good?” he whispers, barely audible.
“Yes,” I pant. “It’s so good.”
Felix’s thrusts speed up, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed in focus.
“I’m not gonna last,” he chokes out, his hips stuttering. “You’re—God, I’m gonna—”
His voice breaks into a strangled moan as he buries himself deep, his body trembling, his head dropping to my shoulder.
I hold him as he comes, shivering with every wave of it, his arms wrapping tight around me like he needs to be there to survive it. He kisses me—soft and slow now—before gently slipping out and collapsing beside Hyunjin with a breathless laugh.
And for a moment— I’m surrounded.
Jeongin on one side, Felix and Hyunjin on the other.
Hands stroking my skin. Fingers in my hair. Kisses on my shoulder.
The rest of them—watching. Burning. Still waiting for their turn.
The sheets are damp. My body is trembling. I feel wrecked in the best way, stretched and warm and full—but then I hear his voice.
Chan.
“Alright. That’s enough for now.”
Everyone stills.
Felix lifts his head. Jeongin’s fingers freeze where they’re trailing absently along my ribs. Hyunjin kisses my shoulder, but doesn’t say a word.
And Chan’s already moving—toward me.
He crouches beside the bed and reaches for me, arms strong and certain, and I go, letting myself be lifted into his chest. My head drops to his shoulder. My legs wrap loosely around his waist.
“You okay?” he murmurs, mouth brushing my temple.
I nod, clinging to him.
“Good girl.”
He carries me across the room, into his en suite bathroom. The others follow at a respectful distance, quiet now—watching, waiting, still aching but soft.
Chan sets me on the edge of the tub and turns the taps on, testing the water carefully before adding something that smells like eucalyptus and citrus—something soothing, fresh, gentle.
“Let’s give that pretty body a break,” he says, cupping my cheek.
I nod again, still dazed.
I sink into the bath like I’m falling through clouds. Warm water, warm skin, warm hands everywhere.
Chan’s voice in my ear, low and steady:
“Let go, baby. We’ve got you.”
I don’t know how long I float—could be minutes, hours, lifetimes. The scent of citrus and salt clings to the steam. My thighs ache in a sated, humming way. My head tips back against Jeongin’s shoulder behind me, his chest rising and falling, arms wrapped gently around my ribs.
His fingers move so slowly between my legs, stroking, pressing—like he’s drawing music from me. The sound that leaves me is barely a whisper. A moan made of light.
Then I’m being lifted. I don’t even realize I’ve been moved until I’m perched on the edge of the tub, water slicking down my body, knees spread, thighs trembling.
Han kneels on the tile in front of me, his eyes full of fire and worship. His mouth finds me like he’s prayed for this. Tongue deep, firm, dragging over every sensitive inch. My hands tangle in his hair and I can’t stop the whimper—can’t stop anything.
Then— Hands again.
Lifting. Turning.
I’m on my knees now, bent forward against the cool porcelain of the tub wall. A hand presses gently to my stomach—Changbin, whispering something sweet and low in my ear. I think I nod. Maybe I cry out.
His fingers slide in deep, steady and strong, curling just right while he kisses the back of my shoulder like he’s saying thank you with his mouth. The water ripples again.
A new pair of hands guiding me back in. The heat makes me dizzy. My head rests against someone’s shoulder—Seungmin’s, maybe. One of his arms around my waist, his free hand skimming the surface of the water to cup between my thighs. He doesn’t say a word—he just watches my face as his fingers start to move, slow and devastating.
It’s like I’m drifting.
No time. No before or after. Just the pull of their touches, the softness of their voices, the need they all pour into me like I’m something sacred.
I think someone kisses my ribs. Someone else strokes my hair. There are mouths. Hands. Water. Steam. My own breath leaving my chest in broken gasps.
Jeongin kisses my ankle. Han cups my cheek and tells me I’m beautiful. Changbin holds me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
Seungmin’s fingers never stop—slow and precise, making me shudder and cry out again.
I lose track of how many times I come. Every one of them feels like it undoes me.
And still—
They keep going.
Not to take more. Just to give.

***
I wake slowly.
The first thing I notice is the quiet.
No voices. No footsteps. Just the soft hum of the city outside my window and the weight of my comforter over bare skin. I shift beneath it, stretching just a little—
And wince. My entire body aches. A slow, delicious kind of soreness that spreads from the center of me outward. I feel wrung out. Tender in every way. I blink at the ceiling, trying to place myself.
My room.
My own bed.
How did I get here?
I don’t remember crawling into it. Don’t remember getting dried off or changed. The last clear thing in my head is water—steam curling over tile, the ripple of hands and mouths and voices, and the warmth of being touched like something cherished.
But then—
Flashes.
Chan’s arms around me, lifting me from the bath like I’m made of glass. My cheek pressed to his shoulder, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
A soft bed. Gentle hands tucking me in. Lips brushing my temple. Whispers at my ear.
“You were perfect.”
“Sweet dreams, angel.”
“We’ll be here in the morning.”
“I love you.”
Forehead kisses. One after another. Gentle, real.
I remember Hyunjin the clearest. The way he curled in beside me, one hand over my heart, his legs tangled with mine. His breath soft on my neck.
“I’ll stay until you sleep.”
And he did.
That’s the last thing I remember before slipping under completely.
Now, I shift again, pulling the blankets tighter around me. My body feels used. Cherished. Like it belongs to me even more than it did before.
…And my heart…
God. It’s full. So full I don’t know how it’s still beating normally.
I stare at the ceiling and try to wrap my head around it. Everything we did. Everything we became. No shame. No doubt. Just love. They love me. And I love them.
It’s wild. Impossible. And somehow still the most natural thing in the world.
I roll onto my side, stretching just a little again, and that’s when I see it—
My nightstand.
I blink. Blink again.
It’s full.
My lips part in surprise, a quiet breath catching in my throat.
There’s a tiny, ridiculous stuffed Dwaekki perched beside my lamp—one of those weird muscular ones someone gave them on tour. His little sewn-on abs are glittery. I reach for it instinctively, pressing it to my chest, already knowing exactly who left it.
Changbin.
Beside it, three neatly folded pieces of paper.
I recognize the handwriting instantly—Minho’s crisp and sharp, Jeongin’s bubbly and slanted, Seungmin’s clean and almost too precise.
Minho’s note is short.

You were magic.
Rest as long as you want. We’ll be here.
—M

Jeongin’s makes me laugh softly, even as it tugs at my heart:

I don’t know how to write how I feel yet, but I hope you know.
Thank you for last night.
(You can keep my hat for now, but only for now!!!)
I look past the notes and there it is—his favorite hat. The one he’s always threatening to retire but never does. Navy blue with a little silver moon pin on the side. It sits neatly folded next to a tiny wrapped snack cake—Han’s signature peace offering.
Seungmin’s note is longer. A little awkward, a little too honest. Exactly like him.

I hope you don’t feel overwhelmed or weird or sore (though statistically, you probably are).
You are incredible. We all see it.
I didn’t know I could feel this way about someone.
Let me know if you need anything today.
(Please eat something.)

My throat tightens. I press the notes to my chest with the Dwaekki and just breathe for a moment. It’s not just what happened last night.
It’s this. The aftermath. The quiet evidence of love left behind.
The care. The sweetness. The thoughtfulness.
They didn’t just touch my body.
They’re holding my heart.

Chapter 17

For a moment, I just lay there, letting it sink in. Everything from the night before came flooding back, vivid and overwhelming: hands, mouths, voices, the music still pounding in my head.
Another life. I’d stepped right into it with both feet. These eight glorious humans were mine.
Downstairs, I could hear them — dishes clinking, muted voices, the occasional laugh. My stomach flipped. What if it was weird now? What if they looked at me differently, or couldn’t meet my eyes?
I drew a shaky breath and forced myself up. I needed a shower before I faced them, so I padded to the bathroom, catching sight of myself in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, there was a dark mark blooming on my collarbone, and I looked…wrecked. Wrecked and happy.
After the shower, I pulled on something soft and oversized, taking a minute to calm my heartbeat before I went down the stairs.
I was ready for awkward. I was ready for uncomfortable silence, stolen glances, any sign they might regret what happened. But the moment I stepped into the kitchen, everything felt so normal it nearly knocked the air out of me.
Felix was at the stove, humming a song as he flipped pancakes. Jeongin was buried in the fridge, rummaging for juice. Seungmin leaned against the counter, hair still damp, teasing Chan about missing his alarm. Hyunjin had his tablet propped against a mug, sketching absently while sipping coffee.
The second they saw me, warmth rushed into the room like a wave.
“There she is,” Chan called, voice bright, easy, like nothing had changed.
Felix turned with that sunshine grin that could melt glaciers. “Come sit, love. You must be starving.”
“Morning, gorgeous,” Hyunjin added, a softness in his eyes that made my chest squeeze.
No one looked away. No one flinched. If anything, they seemed happier to see me — like I belonged here.
Minho appeared from the hall, shirtless, balancing a laundry basket on one hip. His gaze swept over me, sharp and unashamed. “Sleep okay?”
I couldn’t help a laugh. “Yeah. As well as I could.”
Jeongin popped up next to me with a glass of water, handing it over carefully, as if I might break. “You look really pretty today,” he said, cheeks pink.
My throat went tight. This was real. It was warm and gentle and real.
Felix pulled out a chair for me, and I sank into it, letting myself breathe. Maybe this could work. Maybe this wasn’t just a fantasy.
Felix set a steaming stack of pancakes in front of me, eyes shining. “Eat, please. You need your strength.”
I laughed, a little breathless. My strength, as if they hadn’t already stolen every ounce of it the night before. Still, the smell made my stomach growl.
“Thanks, Lix,” I murmured, cutting into the warm stack.
“Big day tomorrow, right?” Chan asked from across the table, his hair still damp from a shower.
I looked up, nodding. “Yeah. My first real presentation with the kids. At the park. I’m a little nervous.”
Hyunjin glanced over from his coffee, tilting his head. “What are you showing them?” I swallowed a bite before answering. “Color mixing. How to do nature sketches in watercolor. We’re going to sit by the fountain and do a little practice.”
Jeongin lit up, leaning closer. “That sounds so fun.”
Minho slid into the seat across from me, propping his elbows on the table. “How many kids?”
“Around fifteen,” I said. “It’s a small beginner group. But still, it’s my first class with them, so…” I trailed off, shrugging.
Seungmin nodded, biting into a piece of toast. “You’ll crush it,” he said confidently, like it was a fact of nature.
Their belief in me wrapped around my heart, making it hard to breathe. I’d never had this before - people who cared enough to ask, to encourage, to show up for me.
Hyunjin reached over and brushed my hair back from my face. “If you want,” he said gently, “we can come watch.”
My eyes went wide. “What, all of you? No way, you’d distract the kids.”
Felix gave me a mischievous grin. “You sure? We’d sit really quietly.”
I burst out laughing, picturing the entire group of them — loud, beautiful, larger than life — trying to be inconspicuous at a kids’ art class. “You’d scare them off,” I teased.
Chan chuckled, voice warm. “Okay, we’ll stay out of sight. But you know we’re proud of you, right?”
My chest went tight. I swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. I know.”
A moment of quiet settled over the table then, soft and comfortable, as I kept eating. I still felt bruised and exhausted, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I also felt…safe.
Loved.
“Hey,” Minho said suddenly, breaking the calm. “What do you want for dinner tonight? We should celebrate you surviving us.”
I snorted, nearly choking on my orange juice. “I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover.”
He smirked, sharp and teasing. “That’s the point.”
Jeongin’s face went bright red, and even Seungmin let out a surprised laugh. I shook my head, fighting back a smile.
These boys. God help me.
The table buzzed with energy as I ate, warmth radiating from every side. Felix insisted on making me a second cup of coffee, even though I protested, and Minho stole bites of my pancake like a smug cat, ignoring my halfhearted glare.
Seungmin kept me talking, asking about what colors I’d picked for the kids’ lesson, while Jeongin chattered about how he’d once tried to watercolor a portrait of his dog — and ended up painting what looked like “a moldy potato with ears,” according to him.
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my drink.
Chan watched me the whole time, something soft and knowing in his gaze, like he could see every piece of me and still think I was worth keeping. I tried to hold onto that feeling.
Eventually, the table quieted, plates mostly cleared, conversation slowing to a cozy hum. The sun was higher now, pouring through the kitchen windows, warming my skin.
Hyunjin’s voice cut through the lull. “Em? Come paint with me?”
My heart did a little somersault. “Yeah,” I breathed, smiling.
He held out his hand and pulled me gently from my chair, guiding me up the stairs and down the hall to his room. It still smelled faintly of linseed oil and fresh canvas, the corner stacked with unfinished pieces and brushes in old mugs.
Chan trailed in after us, balancing his laptop. “Mind if I hang out?” he asked, settling on the edge of Hyunjin’s bed.
“Not at all,” Hyunjin answered, already pulling a blank canvas onto his easel.
I sat down on the small stool by the window, dipping a brush into pale blue. The first stroke across the canvas made my shoulders relax, like I’d finally exhaled.
Hyunjin watched me with that artist’s focus, gentle and curious. “Want to paint together? You do one half, I’ll do the other?”
I grinned, heart flipping over. “Yeah. Let’s.”
For a while, the only sounds were Chan’s fingers on his keyboard, Hyunjin mixing color, and the quiet scratch of the brushes.
Every so often, one of the others drifted in.
Felix poked his head through the door, holding out a piece of strawberry he’d sliced just for me. “Snack,” he announced with a wink.
Jeongin followed him, slumping to the floor with a video game console, babbling about how he’d finally beaten Minho at Mario Kart.
Seungmin came to lean against the doorframe, teasing Chan about “slacking off” even though he was clearly deep in work.
Minho and Han appeared last, crossing the room with zero hesitation, dropping kisses to the crown of my head. “Good lines,” Minho murmured, nodding at the brush in my hand before smirking at Hyunjin’s half-finished side. “Better than his.”
Hyunjin shot him a glare that would have sent anyone else running. I just laughed, warmth blooming through my chest.
Han leaned in, planting another kiss to my cheek. “Sushi for dinner tonight? Your favorite place, the one around the corner?” I grinned, nodding.
This was my new normal — a house full of noise and teasing and art, of people who saw me, wanted me, chose me.
As Hyunjin reached over to brush a smear of paint from my cheek, I realized I could get used to this. Maybe I already had. The thought was crazy – me…and EIGHT men? All in a relationship together? And it’s normal? But somehow, it is. It’s chaotic, and crazy, but beautiful and so right.
From Hyunjin’s bed, Chan motions for Hyunjin to join him. I perk up, looking over at him and he looks suspicious. Like he’s plotting something. My mind immediately races back to a few weeks ago when I overheard them talking about marriage and forever.
My chest tightened, a flutter of panic mixed with this stupid, unstoppable hope.
Hyunjin climbed up next to Chan on the bed, giving him a side-eye. “What’s up?”
Chan smiled, slow and mischievous. “I was just thinking,” he said, tapping his chin dramatically, “that we should make sure Emily knows she’s ours. Properly.”
My cheeks flared hot, the brush trembling in my hand.
Hyunjin’s eyes darted to mine, wide for a second, then softened. “She already knows.”
Chan grinned, teeth flashing, but there was something gentle underneath it. “Yeah, but maybe we should show her anyway.”
A spike of heat shot through me so fast it left me dizzy. My mind went straight back to that overheard conversation — rings, a future, forever.
Did they really mean it?
Before I could ask, Hyunjin turned back toward me, gaze steady and unwavering. “What do you think, angel?” he asked, voice so low it made my toes curl. “Do you want us to show you?”
My mouth went dry. “Show me…how?”
Chan laughed, warm and teasing, but with an edge that made me shiver. “You’ll see. Later.”
My heart tried to climb straight out of my chest.
Hyunjin winked, then stood and shuffled over to me to steal a quick, paint-smeared kiss. “Don’t look so worried,” he murmured, lips brushing mine. “We’d never do anything without you.”
Hyunjin slipped off the bed to stand behind me again, resting a gentle hand on my shoulder. But his attention kept flicking back to Chan, who was scrolling on his laptop with that same suspicious grin. Every so often, Hyunjin would lean closer, whisper something low, and they’d both laugh softly. Like they were in on some secret.
My heart skittered. What are they plotting?
I tried not to stare, but it was impossible. I could still hear their voices from a few weeks ago, talking about rings, forever, about making me theirs in every way. It felt too big to breathe around.
Before I could spiral too hard, Minho wandered back in, carrying a mug of something steaming. “You working on tomorrow’s lesson?” he asked, nodding toward my paint-splattered sketchbook.
“Trying to,” I admitted. “I’m doing a color mixing demo by the fountain, then letting them sketch flowers and birds. I’m nervous.”
Han ducked in right behind him, hair still damp from a shower. “You need any help?” he asked, flopping down dramatically on the floor. “I’m amazing at color charts.”
I snorted. “Oh yeah? You sure about that?”
Han puffed up proudly. “I know how to make brown.”
Minho cracked up, rolling his eyes. “That’s literally mixing everything together, genius.”
Han stuck out his tongue. “It still counts!”
Warmth rushed through me again, so fast I felt a little dizzy. “Actually,” I said, swallowing around the flutter in my chest, “if you guys want, I could use help packing up my kit. And maybe testing the paints? Just in case.”
“Done,” Minho said immediately, crossing the room to grab my travel case from the corner.
Han started poking through my watercolor palette like a curious crow. “You want these sorted by shade or chaos?”
I laughed, genuinely, for the first time since I’d woken up that morning. “Let’s try shade.”
He sighed dramatically. “Boring, but fine.”
Across the room, Chan and Hyunjin were still deep in their quiet conversation, occasionally pointing to something on Chan’s laptop screen. Chan glanced at me once, catching my eye, and gave me that sweet, heart-stopping grin that made me feel like the only person in the universe.
Something was coming. I could feel it buzzing in the air.
I watched Minho and Han settle on the floor with my paint kit, bickering in a warm, familiar way as they sorted the half-empty tubes.
Han held up a battered ultramarine and wrinkled his nose. “This one is dead,” he announced dramatically.
Minho sighed, taking it from him and squeezing a bit onto a scrap palette. “It’s fine. You just don’t know how to handle it.”
Han snickered, leaning sideways until their shoulders bumped. “Says the guy who thought rose red was pink.”
Minho elbowed him, but it was gentle, playful. “Shut up.”
I couldn’t help but smile, dropping down to sit cross-legged next to them, knees brushing theirs. It felt comfortable, safe.
Han leaned into Minho, grinning, voice going soft in a way that made something in my chest twist. “You’re so picky, baby.”
My breath caught. Baby.
The word hung in the air between them, casual, unashamed. Minho didn’t flinch — he just rolled his eyes, smirking as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
I’d known they were close, of course. The guys were always tangled up in each other’s lives, affectionate and teasing. But this — a pet name, that tiny slip of something intimate — made a light go on in my head.
Maybe it wasn’t just me they loved. Maybe they loved each other, too.
That realization landed like a stone in my stomach, then blossomed into something warm. Safer. Less alone.
Minho glanced over and caught my expression, something sharp and knowing in his eyes. “Problem?” he asked, but there was no bite behind it.
I shook my head, heart pounding. “No. Just…figuring things out.”
Han beamed at me, completely unbothered. “You’re in this with all of us, you know,” he said, gentle but matter-of-fact, and leaned over to press a quick kiss to my cheek. “No weird secrets.”
I swallowed, trying to breathe around the rush of relief.
No weird secrets.
Maybe I could handle that. Maybe I could belong here, with all of them — together.

I hesitated, watching Han lean against Minho’s shoulder, their heads almost touching as they argued over whether phthalo green was too “aggressive” for a kids’ class.
The word baby was still ringing in my ears.
I took a breath, steadying my voice. “Can I ask you something?”
They both turned to me, curious, patient.
I fiddled with a tube of yellow ochre, rolling it between my fingers. “Last night…did it…change anything? Between you two?”
Han’s smile softened instantly, and Minho’s eyes went warm, steady, a steadiness I was starting to depend on.
“Between us?” Han asked gently, like he wanted to be sure he understood.
“Yeah,” I managed. “I mean — all of us. But you two especially. I see how close you are. I don’t want to…ruin anything.”
Minho’s smirk gentled into something almost sweet. “Emily,” he said, voice low, “you didn’t ruin a thing. If anything, you made it better.”
Han nodded eagerly, bumping Minho’s arm. “Yeah. We’ve been together in…our way…for a while,” he admitted. “But having you here? It just feels more right. It’s like it fits.”
The knot in my chest loosened, letting me breathe.
“You sure?” I asked, still unsure how to hold all of this, all this love and mess and beauty.
Minho reached over and squeezed my wrist. “Positive. You’re not a wedge between us, Emily. You’re the glue.”
I went warm all over, tears stinging behind my eyes.
Han grinned, impossibly soft. “We’re all a little obsessed with you, you know,” he teased, then leaned over to bump my forehead with his. “No one’s mad. We just want you to feel like you belong.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “I do,” I whispered, voice small. “I really do.”
Minho’s lips twitched, that faint, crooked grin breaking through. “Good,” he murmured. “Then help us sort this damn green before I throw it out.”
I laughed, heart light, and leaned into both of them. Maybe this was chaotic and complicated. But it was ours.
After hours of paint, laughter, and too many jokes about “phthalo green,” I needed a mental reset. So when Chan suggested we start getting dressed for dinner, everyone jumped on it immediately.
Felix and I ended up getting ready together, squeezed into his little bathroom, bumping shoulders and teasing each other about hair gel and deodorant.
“Do you think this shirt’s too much?” he asked, adjusting the collar of a soft black button-up that clung to his shoulders just so perfectly.
I nearly choked. “Too much? Felix, you look like a prince.”
He laughed, cheeks going pink, and turned to fuss with my hair, smoothing it back behind my ear. “Well, you look like a goddess,” he shot back, grinning so wide his dimples nearly swallowed me whole.
I tried not to melt on the spot. “Thanks, Lix.”
Our eyes locked and he leaned in, kissing me gently. It was soft — just a gentle brush of lips, barely a whisper. But it sent a pulse of warmth all the way through me. Felix smiled against my mouth, then pulled back with that twinkle in his eyes. “You’re gonna kill me,” he said, voice light.
Then he held out his arm dramatically. “Shall we?”
I giggled and took it, letting him lead me down the hallway to the kitchen where the others were gathering.
The moment we stepped in, it hit me all at once.
They were all dressed up. Hyunjin in a fitted tan blazer over a deep green shirt, his hair pushed back in perfect waves. Minho in dark slacks and a silver chain that made my brain short-circuit. Chan with rolled-up sleeves that showed off his forearms, casual but devastating. Han with soft linen pants and a fresh cologne I couldn’t stop inhaling. Seungmin in a crisp white button-up that made him look like the world’s most dangerous angel. Jeongin in a subtle pastel that made his eyes absolutely shine. Changbin had a black button-up on that I’d never seen before.
I stopped in my tracks, completely overwhelmed.
“Wow,” I breathed, voice cracking a little. “You all look so…so handsome.”
They froze for a second, then broke into warm smiles that made my heart twist.
“You okay?” Chan asked, voice gentle.
Tears prickled behind my eyes. “Yeah,” I managed, laughing at myself, “just — you’re all so beautiful. I can’t believe this is real.”
Minho smirked, strutting closer. “Come here,” he ordered, crooking a finger.
So I did.
I went down the line, kissing each of them one by one. Minho first, who stole a second peck and called me greedy; then Jeongin, who blushed so hard I thought he might faint; then Seungmin, who kissed me slow and sweet. Han practically melted into me, clinging for a heartbeat longer than the others. Hyunjin cupped my face so delicately I could hardly stand it, brushing his lips over mine with a smile. Then Changbin stepped forward — solid, warm, eyes soft. He didn’t say a word as he pulled me in, just kissed me like he meant it — firm, deliberate, the kind of kiss that left me breathless in the best way. Chan kissed me last, warm and steady, grounding me.
“Okay, okay, lovebirds,” Felix teased, bouncing on his toes. “Sushi awaits!”
We piled out of the kitchen, laughter echoing through the hall, and split into two big SUVs waiting at the curb. I ended up wedged in the backseat between Han and Jeongin, Felix in the front seat singing along to the radio, while the other car followed behind.
The SUV rumbled quietly beneath us, city lights flashing past the windows as we wove through traffic. I was wedged between Han and Jeongin in the backseat, the leather warm under my legs, Felix in the front singing along to a playlist with the windows cracked open.
Jeongin’s thigh pressed firmly against mine, and Han’s hand rested lightly on my other knee — not in a possessive way, just there, grounding me like he always did.
Jeongin leaned in a little, voice soft in my ear. “You look really pretty tonight.”
I smiled, shy despite everything. “Thank you.”
He glanced down at our joined legs, then back up with that slightly crooked grin. “Can I kiss you?”
God, this boy. “Yeah,” I whispered.
He leaned in slowly, like he wanted to savor it — soft at first, lips brushing mine so gently it made my heart ache. Then again, a little firmer. His hand slipped to the side of my neck, thumb brushing just under my jaw.
I melted into it. Let him take his time.
But when my fingers curled into his shirt and I sighed against his mouth, things shifted. The kiss deepened — still sweet, still slow, but intentional. His tongue brushed mine, teasing, careful but confident.
Han chuckled under his breath. “Easy,” he murmured near my ear, his hand tightening just slightly on my thigh. “Don’t make her combust before dinner.”
I gasped out a laugh against Jeongin’s mouth, pulling back just enough to breathe — only to find Felix twisted around in the front seat, grinning like the little devil he was.
“Well damn,” he said brightly. “Should I give you two some privacy? Or just put the partition up?”
Jeongin ducked his head, laughing, his cheeks flushed and glowing.
I covered my face, giggling, still panting a little. “Shut up, Lix.”
Felix winked and turned back around, humming again like nothing happened.
But Jeongin kept holding my hand, thumb stroking lazy circles over my knuckles. And the heat between us? Still there.
The SUV eased into the restaurant’s parking lot, pulling around to the back entrance just as the second car rolled in behind us.
I exhaled slowly, still feeling the lingering buzz of Jeongin’s kiss on my lips, his fingers laced with mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“VIP entrance?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Felix looked back at me and winked. “We don’t always use it, but for occasions like this?” He gestured dramatically. “Only the best.”
The back door opened directly into a quiet, warmly lit hallway. A hostess was already waiting, bowing slightly with a soft smile. She didn’t even ask for a name — just gave Chan a polite nod and turned, motioning for us to follow.
I felt a hand slide into mine — this time Hyunjin’s, his thumb tracing across the back of my hand as we walked.
We followed her past the hum of the main dining area, where sizzling grills and the clatter of plates echoed from behind silk-paneled dividers. But instead of stopping in one of the open hibachi sections, she led us further, past a folding screen and through a sliding door.
The room was private, cozy and luxurious all at once. A massive round table waited in the center, already set with ornate plates, carved chopsticks, delicate ceramic sake cups, and gold-accented napkins. Dim lanterns flickered from the corners, casting everything in a golden glow.
My breath caught.
“Holy crap,” I whispered. “This is… beautiful. It looks nothing like the rest of the restaurant!”
Han tugged me playfully toward the table. “Only the best for our girl.”
Minho slipped past me to take the seat with the best view of the door. “And for the record,” he said casually, “this room is soundproof.”
Several of the boys burst out laughing. I blushed so hard I thought I might melt into the floor.
Chan pulled a chair out for me — not at his side, but between him and Hyunjin. He looked down at me with a soft smile. “You good?”
I nodded, heart full, cheeks still warm. “Yeah. I’m really good.”
I sat, watching as the rest of them took their seats around the huge table — all dressed up, glowing under the lantern light, laughing and nudging each other like this was the most normal thing in the world. My world. Emotion bubbles up and I bite back tears for the twentieth time that day, overwhelmed in the best way.
The servers flowed in almost immediately, soft-footed and polite, setting down steaming dishes one after another until the whole table looked like something out of a dream.
Sushi rolls glistened on wooden boards — salmon, tuna, eel, avocado, more kinds than I could count. Platters of gyoza steamed beside bowls of fluffy rice and sautéed veggies. Skewers of hibachi chicken and buttery grilled fish sizzled as they were placed down, filling the air with mouthwatering heat and spice.
Felix let out an audible gasp. “This is what heaven looks like.”
“Bet heaven doesn’t have this much wasabi,” Seungmin muttered, already reaching for chopsticks.
I tried to reach for a roll, but Han beat me to it — plucking one from the center plate and holding it out to me with an exaggerated grin.
“Say ‘ahh,’” he said, like I was a toddler.
I rolled my eyes but leaned in anyway, letting him feed it to me. The second it hit my tongue, I groaned. “Oh. So good.”
Han beamed. “I accept your gratitude.”
Next was Jeongin — reaching across my other side, holding out a perfectly dipped dumpling between his chopsticks. “You have to try this one,” he insisted, eyes big and eager. “It tastes like a hug.”
I couldn’t help laughing, but I opened my mouth again and let him feed it to me. It was soft and savory and somehow…comforting. “You weren’t kidding,” I murmured around a smile.
“I never lie about dumplings,” he said solemnly.
From the other side of the table, Minho narrowed his eyes. “Are we just going to feed her all night like she’s some spoiled little kid?”
There was a beat of silence.
“Yes,” Hyunjin said, completely serious.
Minho snorted, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Then I get next turn.”
Before I could even respond, he was holding out a perfect piece of grilled fish, perfectly balanced and still warm. I took it from his chopsticks, eyes locked with his the whole time.
“Good girl,” he murmured so low only I could hear.
I nearly choked.
Felix passed me a scoop of rice, carefully shaped into a neat little bite with a touch of sauce on top. “Here, for balance,” he said sweetly, then smirked. “Also so you don’t pass out halfway through dessert.”
I laughed a little, my sides aching from smiling so much.
Next to me, Chan was silent for a beat, watching me with that low-burning warmth in his eyes, like he was memorizing the way I glowed under the lantern light.
He held a slice of hibachi chicken to my lips, tender and glazed. “Try this one,” he said softly.
I took it, let him feed it to me — and his thumb brushed the corner of my mouth after, gentle and slow. Everything in me fluttered.
I couldn’t tell if it was the wasabi, the warmth, or the sheer affection they were drowning me in, but I felt hot from it — full in every possible way.
Loved. Wanted. Fed like a goddess and looked at like I hung the stars.
“So,” Han said, breaking the tension with a grin, “who’s ordering dessert?”
Minho leaned back in his chair, eyeing me lazily. “What do you mean? She’s right there.”
Laughter exploded around the table. I dropped my face in my hands, blushing like a wildfire. But I didn’t stop smiling.
We split into two SUVs again, and this time I ended up in the second one — climbing into the back with Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Minho while Seungmin took the front passenger seat beside the driver.
It was dark and quiet in the cabin, the soft hum of music low in the background. City lights flickered through the tinted windows, catching in Hyunjin’s earrings and the gloss of Minho’s collarbone.
Jeongin sat beside me again — closer this time, thigh pressed to mine like it was his spot now. I felt the warmth of his palm settle lightly on my knee, his thumb stroking slow, easy circles through the fabric of my dress.
I turned to glance at him, just as he whispered, “Still taste like sushi?”
Heat rushed to my face. I bit my lip. “You’re impossible.”
From my other side, Hyunjin made a small, amused sound. “He was all worked up in the restaurant, you know,” he said, voice lazy and low. “Couldn’t stop looking at you.”
Jeongin gave him a side glance. “You were looking too.”
I laughed softly, leaning back against the seat, only for Minho to look up from his phone and narrow his eyes at us.
“What’s going on over there?”
I blinked, trying to look innocent. “Nothing.”
“Nothing,” Jeongin echoed, adjusting his position and casually draping his arm behind me.
Minho’s gaze sharpened just a little. “You two didn’t—” He paused, then looked directly at Jeongin. “Did something happen before dinner?”
Jeongin froze for half a second — busted.
Hyunjin smirked, glancing out the window. “Oh, I think something definitely happened.”
Minho let out a slow breath through his nose and turned to me, one brow raised. “Is this gonna be a thing now?”
I smiled, a little smug. “Maybe.”
He stared a moment longer, then looked out the window and muttered, “Fucking knew I should’ve ridden with you.”
That made Jeongin beam.
Hyunjin leaned in, brushing his lips against my temple. “Relax, Min. You’ll get your turn.”
From the front seat, Seungmin sighed. “Please stop making me chaperone this polysexual clown car.”
Laughter erupted around the SUV, even as I tried to press my burning face into Jeongin’s shoulder.
But still — his hand stayed on my thigh the whole ride home. And Minho? He never stopped watching.
The second we stepped through the front door, Felix spun around and clapped his hands like an overly enthusiastic camp counselor.
“Alright, everyone!” he announced, grinning wide. “Pajamas on. Living room in ten. Dessert will not wait!”
There were groans, laughs, a few sarcastic “Yes, chef!” responses — but no one protested. Not really. We all scattered like kids on Christmas morning, peeling off into separate bedrooms, voices echoing down the hallway.
I slipped into my room and closed the door behind me, already tugging off my dress. My skin was still warm from all the attention, my lips still tingling from too many kisses to count.
I’d barely unclasped my bra when there was a soft knock at my door — followed by it cracking open a second later.
Minho.
He stepped inside like he owned the place — which, to be fair, he kind of did. Pajama pants slung low on his hips, plain black t-shirt stretched over his chest, hair already mussed like he’d run a hand through it once and given up.
“Thought I’d help,” he said casually, eyeing me as I stood there in nothing but my sleep shorts.
I raised a brow. “Help with what, exactly?”
He crossed the room in three lazy strides and picked up the hair tie from my dresser. “Turn around.”
My breath caught, but I obeyed — slowly, carefully.
Minho gathered my hair in his hands with surprising gentleness, twisting it up into a loose bun and securing it expertly. His fingers brushed the back of my neck, slow and deliberate.
I shivered.
He leaned in, lips grazing just behind my ear. “You like when I take care of you like this?”
Heat curled low in my belly. “Minho…”
He hummed, not pulling away. “I could have you begging in thirty seconds,” he whispered. “But you’ve got cake waiting.”
I groaned, sagging slightly against him. “You are evil.”
He grinned against my skin. “You’ll thank me later.”
And with that, he tugged gently on my hand and led me down the hallway, back toward the light and laughter spilling from the living room.
By the time we got there, the others were already spread out in a messy circle — blankets everywhere, desserts unpacked, the coffee table overflowing with mochi, rice cakes, chocolate-drizzled tempura, and sweet dumplings.
Felix waved a fork like a baton. “You’re late!”
“Blame Minho,” I muttered, cheeks still burning.
Hyunjin patted the couch cushion beside him, Jeongin scooting over to make room. I settled between them, still flushed, still buzzing.
Hyunjin handed me a plate. Jeongin passed me a piece of matcha cake with a spoon already in it.
They didn’t say a word. Just looked at me like they already knew.
The living room glowed under the soft spill of warm lights, the floor covered in tangled blankets and the smell of sugar and citrus and toasted rice.
I sat curled between Hyunjin and Jeongin, a little plate balanced on my knees, sampling everything they handed me.
“Here,” Jeongin said, holding out a sticky-sweet red bean mochi, already bitten in half. “You have to try this one.”
I blinked. “You… already took a bite.”
He shrugged, grinning. “We’re close now.”
I rolled my eyes but leaned in, lips brushing his fingers as I bit into the other half. It was good — sweet and soft, with just the right chew.
“Mmhmm,” I hummed. “Okay. I forgive you.”
From the other side of me, Hyunjin gently dabbed powdered sugar from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “You’re so cute when you’re fed,” he said, eyes sparkling.
“I’m always fed,” I deadpanned. “You people won’t stop feeding me.”
“That’s love, baby,” Felix chimed in from across the room, his mouth full of chocolate-drizzled fruit. “Take it or starve.”
I snorted into my plate.
Chan laughed quietly from where he sat on the arm of the couch, his long fingers still idly swirling whipped cream onto a bite of cake. He’d been watching me more than eating — his gaze gentle, warm, and just a little possessive.
After a moment, he stood and leaned over me, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“I’ve gotta go take care of something,” he murmured low, just for me. “Work stuff.”
Then — barely a heartbeat later — he bent and kissed the corner of my mouth, lingering for half a second longer than necessary. No one else noticed. But I did.
And when he turned to walk upstairs, he looked back just once — eyes locking with mine. A wink. A smile. Heat.
I sat frozen, heart thudding stupidly hard in my chest.
“Earth to Emily,” Jeongin said quietly, brushing his hand against my thigh. “You okay?”
I turned toward him. His face was close. Too close. My breath hitched.
His hand moved a little higher. “You look warm,” he said softly. “Want me to help?”
I opened my mouth, no clue what I was about to say — but then Hyunjin was there, close on my other side, eyes dark and molten.
“She’s burning up,” he murmured, his hand sliding to the small of my back. “I can feel it.”
Jeongin leaned in, kissing the side of my neck — slow, barely there, like he was waiting for someone to stop him. No one did.
Hyunjin’s fingers slipped under the edge of my shirt.
I swallowed hard. The air around us had shifted — the teasing gone, replaced by something heavier. Something needier.
Laughter still echoed from the kitchen, someone shouting about video games. But one by one, the guys began drifting out — Seungmin and Han disappearing toward the game room, Felix trailing after with a plate of snacks and a shout about beating someone’s high score.
And then — Minho.
He didn’t say anything when he re-entered the room. Just padded across the floor and dropped down beside Jeongin, his eyes dragging slowly over the three of us.
Over me. Over where Jeongin’s lips were brushing behind my ear. Over Hyunjin’s hand, now stroking lazy circles against the skin just above my waistband.
He smirked. And then, wordlessly, he scooted closer — until his thigh pressed to Jeongin’s, until I was bracketed by all three of them.
“Thought I’d missed my chance,” Minho said casually, voice low and smooth. “Glad you waited.”
The air thickened, humming with tension. My breath caught.
I didn’t know who would touch me next. But I knew I was about to shatter for all of them.
Minho’s hand came to rest on my knee, warm and certain. His thumb stroked once. Twice. Then higher, just a little, like he knew exactly how much pressure to apply before I’d break.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, like he was pleased about it. “Is that for me?”
I couldn’t speak. Not with Jeongin’s mouth grazing my shoulder, Hyunjin’s breath ghosting over my cheek, Minho’s fingers edging slowly up my thigh.
I nodded instead—just barely.
“Good girl,” he said softly, like it was his secret to keep.
Hyunjin tilted my chin, guiding my gaze back to him. His expression had lost all trace of teasing. He looked…devoted. Worshipful.
“You okay?” he asked, voice gentle, grounding.
“Yeah,” I whispered, chest rising fast. “Just—overwhelmed.”
“That’s alright,” he said, brushing his lips over mine. “Let us take care of you.”
And then he kissed me — slow, deep, savoring it like a favorite song. I moaned into his mouth, hands fisting in his shirt as I melted into him.
Behind me, Jeongin shifted closer, his hand skimming the outside of my thigh, curling behind my knee and pulling me partly into his lap. He pressed a trail of kisses along my neck, hot and sweet, his breath hitching every time I sighed.
I was surrounded — warm skin and strong hands, soft lips and harder bodies. Minho’s fingers teased under the hem of my shorts now, grazing the inside of my thigh like he was drawing patterns just to make me squirm.
“Look at her,” Jeongin murmured behind me, voice thick. “She’s so beautiful.”
“She’s holding back,” Minho said, leaning in close enough that I could feel his smirk against my ear. “I can hear it in her breath.”
Hyunjin kissed me again — deeper this time, his hand slipping beneath my shirt to cradle my waist. He guided me into Jeongin’s lap fully, like it had been the plan all along.
Jeongin groaned softly, arms wrapping around my hips to hold me there. I could feel him, hard and eager beneath me, but still waiting. Still gentle.
“I want to make you feel good,” he whispered. “Can I?”
I turned in his lap, cupping his face, and kissed him — soft and slow at first, then deeper, more desperate. He whimpered into my mouth like he’d waited hours for that exact moment.
Minho’s hand slid up the back of my neck, threading into my hair to tug gently, just enough to pull my mouth from Jeongin’s, turning my head toward him. My breath caught as his gaze burned into mine.
“You’re letting him kiss you like that?” he asked, voice a tease but laced with heat.
My lips were already parted. “You’re jealous?”
He chuckled. “No. Just hungry.”
Then he leaned in and claimed my mouth.
Where Jeongin was sweet and careful, Minho kissed like he wanted to own me — all tongue and teeth and low groans as his hand cupped the back of my neck. It left me breathless, dizzy.
I swore I heard Hyunjin moan under his breath, watching the two of us like he couldn’t decide where to touch first.
The tension was thick. Heavy. My skin buzzed under their hands, lips, breath. I was being worshipped in layers — slowly unwrapped by the three of them like something sacred.
And then—
A low voice broke through the haze from down the hallway.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
Chan.
I turned my head slowly, still breathless, still tangled in the hands and heat of the three surrounding me.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, shirt rumpled, lips parted — and his eyes… his eyes burned.
Minho didn’t flinch. Just tilted his head, cocky smile spreading wide.
“You jealous, hyung?” he asked, voice smooth.
Chan’s tongue slid across his bottom lip, slow and deliberate. “Not jealous,” he said, pushing off the frame and walking toward us. “Just deciding which of you gets to watch first.”
Hyunjin exhaled softly beside me. Jeongin’s grip on my hips tightened just slightly.
Chan reached us with quiet confidence, his eyes locked on mine now. “You okay, baby?” he asked gently, all warmth and steadiness beneath the arousal.
I nodded. “Yeah.” My voice shook. “More than okay.”
Chan’s fingers brushed my cheek. “You wanna come upstairs?”
My breath hitched. I knew what that meant. The shift. The snap. The moment where teasing became devotion.
I nodded again. “Yes.”
He turned to Hyunjin next. “Your room,” he said simply. Not a question — a command, soft but certain.
Hyunjin stood immediately, his eyes dark and full of something that made my knees weak. “Come on,” he said, offering his hand.
Jeongin kissed the inside of my wrist before letting me go. Minho stood behind me, brushing my spine with a single fingertip as we all followed.
There was a quiet thud of footsteps and rustling clothes behind us as we ascended the stairs — me and four beautiful, starving men moving like a current toward something inevitable.
By the time we reached Hyunjin’s door, my heart was thundering. My skin already tingled. I was soaked through my shorts, my legs shaky from want.
Hyunjin opened the door and stepped aside, letting me walk in first.
And when I did - I knew I wouldn’t be leaving that room until the next morning.
Hyunjin’s room smelled like him — clean linen, faint sandalwood, and something softer I couldn’t name. The lights were low, only the soft golden glow from a bedside lamp painting shadows on the walls.
My legs were shaking, my skin already buzzing from their attention downstairs. I heard the door shut behind us, the soft click of it locking, and when I turned, the four of them were standing there, watching me like they were starving.
Minho moved first — of course he did. He closed the distance with slow, measured steps, his hands warm as he slid them beneath the hem of my shirt and pulled it up and over my head. He let it fall to the floor without a glance.
“You’re always so fucking pretty,” he murmured, cupping my breasts through my bra. “But like this? Needy and soft and ours?”
I whimpered, arching into his hands, and then Hyunjin was behind me — his body pressing flush to my back, his lips brushing my shoulder.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you in my bed since the day you moved in,” he whispered. “You gonna let me?”
“Yes,” I gasped, nodding, breath catching as he unhooked my bra with practiced ease.
Minho dropped to his knees the second it hit the floor, mouth hot and open as he kissed a trail from my sternum to my navel.
Behind me, Hyunjin kissed the side of my neck, biting just hard enough to make me whine as his hands slid down the front of my shorts and dipped into the soaked cotton of my panties.
“She’s drenched,” he muttered against my skin. “We haven’t even started.”
“Poor thing,” Minho teased, mouthing at the top of my thigh. “No one’s taken care of her yet tonight.”
“But that’s about to change,” came Chan’s voice — low, dark, and final.
I turned to see him standing at the foot of the bed, shirtless now, broad chest rising with every steady breath.
Jeongin stood beside him, flushed and fidgeting — until Chan tilted his chin and said, “Go on, Innie. Touch her.”
Jeongin crossed the room like he’d been waiting his whole life. His hands slid under my thighs and lifted me up, laying me gently on Hyunjin’s bed while Minho followed, crawling over me like a shadow.
Hyunjin stripped quickly, tossing his shirt aside, then joined them — one of his hands sliding under my head, the other trailing down my ribs as he kissed me deep and slow.
Jeongin’s fingers slipped into me first — two of them, careful but desperate, curling just right as Minho kissed his way between my legs, licking me with slow, devastating precision.
My hips bucked, heat rushing up my spine like wildfire.
“Please,” I whimpered, not even sure who I was begging.
“You’ll get it,” Minho growled. “You’ll take all of us tonight, angel.”
Chan moved to the edge of the bed, unbuckling his belt with calm, practiced hands. “You still want this?” he asked, gaze locked on mine.
“God, yes.”
Minho’s mouth was on my breast now, sucking soft and slow while Jeongin pushed me closer and closer to the edge. Hyunjin kissed me again, his voice against my lips, “Come for us, baby.”
I shattered. They didn’t stop.
Chan was next — thick and hard and slow, pressing into me while Hyunjin held my hand and whispered, “That’s it, just like that.”
Then Minho. Rougher. His hand tight on my throat as he fucked me deeper, slower, filthier than before.
“Mine,” he hissed. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I gasped, over and over. “Yours, yours—”
And Jeongin, sweet Jeongin, finishing inside me with a broken moan, kissing me through the aftershocks like I was something fragile.
When it was Hyunjin’s turn, he didn’t move right away. Just held me, kissed me, asked soft questions while the others curled around us.
“Still with me?” he whispered, pressing inside so gently I cried out.
I was shaking, raw, already fucked out and dripping — but I still wanted him. Wanted all of them.
“More,” I begged. “Don’t stop.”
And he didn’t. None of them did.
They passed me between them like I was their secret. Their obsession. Their girl.
And when they were done — when I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move — they held me through the comedown, whispering praise and brushing sweaty hair from my face.
“Perfect,” Chan said against my temple.
“So good for us, Noona -” Jeongin added.
“My girl,” Minho whispered, kissing my shoulder.
Hyunjin just held me tight, humming quietly as my eyes fluttered shut.

Chapter 18

I woke up tangled in a mess of limbs and blankets, the air warm with sleep and the scent of skin and sweat still lingering thick in the room.
There was a leg thrown over my thigh — Jeongin’s, I was pretty sure, based on the faint scratch of stubble against my shoulder. Hyunjin had one arm tucked under my neck and the other draped across my stomach, his hair spread out across the pillow like spilled ink.
And everyone — everyone — was still naked.
The sheets had long since given up trying to cover us.
Hyunjin’s chest rose and fell, slow and steady, and Jeongin was softly snoring, breath brushing over the curve of my shoulder.
Minho and Chan were gone. I had a vague memory of Minho kissing the corner of my mouth in the dark, murmuring something about needing to check on Han before disappearing sometime around… 3 a.m.? Maybe?
I didn’t blame him. We’d all needed water, food, air by the end of it.
I was just about to drift back under when—
BZZZZZ. BZZZZZ. BZZZZZ.
The sharp, awful vibration of my phone alarm shattered the peace like a bullet.
Jeongin jerked violently, head thudding into my shoulder with a loud “Ow!”
Hyunjin groaned and buried his face in my chest. “What the fuck is that?” he mumbled. “Is something on fire?”
I fumbled blindly toward the nightstand, finally managing to smack my phone until it stopped vibrating. My screen blinked back at me with cruel clarity:
8:00 AM — ART CLASS PREP — Park Presentation Today!!
I stared at it in silence for a beat. Then groaned, loudly. “No. No no no no—”
Hyunjin cracked one eye open, still barely awake. “Babe. Baby. What’s wrong?”
Jeongin just whimpered into my back. “Why is it morning already?”
I sat up — slowly, very slowly — sheets slipping down to my waist. The second the cool air hit my skin, I winced. Everything hurt. In the best possible way, sure, but still—ow.
“I have to teach today,” I muttered, pushing my hair out of my face. “The watercolor demo. The kids. The park.”
Jeongin rolled onto his back dramatically. “Cancel them. Tell them you’re in a love coma.”
Hyunjin reached up and lazily tugged at my wrist. “Five more minutes. We’ll get you coffee. Or painkillers. Or both.”
I smiled, even as I slid out of bed. “If I don’t get up now, I’ll be late. And I am not showing up to teach covered in hickeys and smelling like sex.”
That got a quiet, satisfied hum from both of them.
“Wear a scarf,” Hyunjin said sleepily.
I wheezed, standing up, taking a step forward. My legs wobbled and I nearly faceplanted into the dresser.
“Okay,” I muttered. “So walking is a journey.”
Behind me, Hyunjin let out a soft laugh. “You need help getting to my shower?”
“…Maybe.”
Hyunjin smirked against the pillow. “Too bad. I’m a pillow now.”
Jeongin didn’t even open his eyes. “I’d help, but I’m emotionally wounded from being alarmed awake.”
“Useless,” I muttered with affection, flipping them both off before hobbling into Hyunjin’s bathroom.
The shower felt heavenly — hot, high-pressure, and blessedly private. I leaned one hand against the tile as the water hit my sore thighs, letting out something between a moan and a whimper. My body ached in ways I didn’t know it could, and I wasn’t even mad about it.
But my presentation was in less than an hour, and I still needed coffee, brushes, and to somehow walk without looking like I’d spent the night getting railed by a small football team.
…Which I basically had.
By the time I got to the kitchen, dressed in soft black leggings, sneakers, and a loose sweatshirt knotted at the waist, my hair was damp but clean, twisted into a half-up bun with a paintbrush jammed through it.
The kitchen was already buzzing.
Felix was scrambling eggs with a dramatic flourish, shirtless in plaid pajama pants, while Han sat on the counter eating a banana like he was judging everyone.
Minho stood at the stove in a simple white tee and sweats, stirring something in a pan like he hadn’t made me come three times last night.
Seungmin was seated at the table with a mug and a glare that said I’m awake, but not by choice.
The second they saw me, every pair of eyes zeroed in.
“Damn,” Han said, mouth full. “You look like a sexy art teacher who just escaped a crime scene.”
“Thanks,” I said, deadpan.
Minho turned, offered me a once-over, and smirked. “You walk like someone who got wrecked last night.”
I walked past him and smacked his ass. “I did get wrecked. You’re welcome.”
Felix handed me a travel mug filled with hot coffee, eyes twinkling. “You want food or just to be carried to the park in a chariot like the goddess you are?”
“Too late for food,” I said, sipping gratefully. “I’ve got five minutes to leave or I’m doomed.”
“I packed your brushes,” Minho said casually, nodding to a bag by the door. “And the watercolor demo sheet. Jeongin triple-checked your supply list before passing back out.”
My throat tightened. “You guys—”
“We take care of our girl,” Felix said simply, reaching over to squeeze my hand.
Seungmin lifted his mug. “You got this.”
Han jumped off the counter. “Wait, wait—can we walk you out? We’ll carry your stuff, be charming, look hot—”
“You’re in pajamas,” Minho reminded him.
“Hot pajamas,” Han corrected.
They followed me to the door in a sleepy parade, Minho with my supply bag over his shoulder, Felix grabbing a folded hoodie to toss over my arm “just in case.”
Before I could open the door, Hyunjin and Jeongin came shuffling down the hall — hair messy, half-dressed, but determined.
Jeongin rubbed his eyes. “You didn’t say goodbye.”
“I was gonna come back and—”
He cut me off by kissing me. Right there in the front hall, sleepy and sweet and full.
When he pulled back, Hyunjin was already stepping in — hand on my cheek, mouth warm against mine.
Minho followed, brushing his lips over my temple. “Show those kids how it’s done.”
Han blew me a kiss and whispered, “You’re magic.”
And Felix? Felix kissed my hand like a prince and gave my ass a little smack as I stepped outside.
I barely made it ten steps before I was tearing up again.
But I smiled the whole way to the park.

***
The fountain in the center of the park glimmered under the morning sun, water arcing lazily through the air and catching the light like glass. I chose a spot on the grass just off to the side, laying out my supplies with shaking fingers and trying very hard not to look like I was on the verge of a breakdown.
My easel was set. The watercolor demo page was clipped and waiting. A travel kit of paints, extra brushes, paper towels, and folding palettes all in neat little rows around me.
And still—my heart was racing.
The last time I’d taught a class like this, I’d still been in the States. Still engaged. Still pretending I was okay. That version of me hadn’t known what it felt like to be chosen. Hadn’t known what real love looked like — in all its loud, ridiculous, soul-shaking forms.
This? This was new. This was all mine.
The first few students began to arrive — little pairs of sneakers bouncing across the grass, parents trailing behind them with small waves and quiet bows. I stood to greet them, brushing off my palms on my leggings.
“Annyeonghaseyo,” I said carefully, bowing a little. “Je ireumeun Emily-seonsaengnim imnida.”
Their eyes lit up. A few giggled. A few looked shy, but curious.
“You can call me Emily. Today, we’re going to talk about color mixing — and how to paint with watercolors using what we see around us.”
I held up a sketch of the fountain. Loose, soft lines. Gentle colors. A bit of whimsy.
“In future classes, we’ll talk about landscapes, animals, portraits — and maybe even some mixed media, if you’re feeling brave.”
More kids were trickling in now, settling into a half-circle around me on the grass, some already digging into their sketchbooks. My nerves began to settle. I was doing this. I was really doing this!
I took a deep breath to keep talking—
—and then stopped.
Across the lawn, at the edge of the park where the trees began to cluster near a small grove… I saw something.
Movement.
And then… faces.
Eight of them.
All mostly hidden — hats pulled low, sunglasses too big, masks covering everything but their eyes.
They were crouched behind bushes and peeking around tree trunks like a flock of overgrown, designer-dressed raccoons.
I blinked, squinting.
One of them had Felix’s sparkly hoodie. Another had Hyunjin’s purple nails poking out from behind the bark. One had to be Seungmin — still holding a half-eaten rice ball.
And the one standing too straight, trying way too hard not to draw attention?
Chan.
Of course it was Chan.
I nearly burst out laughing right there, but it came out as a squeak instead.
My students looked up at me expectantly.
I cleared my throat, swallowing the giggle threatening to bubble out. “Sorry,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. “There’s just… some very suspicious trees today.”
A few kids turned around curiously.
One waved.
All eight heads immediately ducked. Hard.
I covered my mouth and turned back to the easel, smiling so hard it hurt.
“Okay,” I said, turning back to the class, still biting down laughter. “Let’s talk about color families.”
A few of the kids perked up. One little girl had already started painting the fountain in soft purple hues. Another was just vigorously brushing water across their whole page. The energy was pure chaos and potential — and it filled me with a warm kind of pride.
I flipped to the next sheet on my easel, a simple color wheel with swatches. “So red and yellow make—?”
“Orange!” one of the kids shouted.
“Yes! And blue and yellow?”
“Green!”
I grinned, relaxing into the rhythm. “You can mix just three primary colors and get almost everything—”
Movement. Again.
I glanced up casually, eyes darting across the field. The “trees” had multiplied.
No—they had moved.
They’d fanned out along the perimeter of the grassy clearing now. One had taken up residence behind the public trash can. Another was crouched inside a bush, only the tops of his sunglasses visible like a cartoon character lying in wait.
Chan had clearly given up the ghost and was now sitting casually on a park bench, pretending to be deeply interested in a local bird. He even had a brochure he was pretending to read upside down.
Subtle.
Minho and Han were shoulder to shoulder behind a wide tree trunk, not even trying anymore, whispering loudly and occasionally poking each other.
I fought a grin so hard my cheeks ached.
“—so if you’re painting a green tree,” I continued, trying desperately to focus, “you might use more blue than yellow, to get a cooler tone. Like how shadows fall under the branches—”
Felix darted across the grass.
Full sprint. Like a gremlin on a mission.
He dove behind a planter, tumbled, and landed on his side with a loud oof that echoed just loud enough for a few of the kids to look over.
I cleared my throat and waved a little too fast. “Don’t mind that,” I said quickly. “It’s just… neighborhood wildlife.”
A few giggles.
One of the older kids whispered, “Teacher… is that your boyfriend?”
I turned bright red. “Um. One of them.”
More giggles. The girl in the purple hoodie clutched her sketchbook to her chest and squealed. “So romantic!”
The bush behind me sneezed.
I lost it.
“Alright,” I said, eyes sparkling. “How about we switch to painting what we see in real life, yeah? Pick something in the park that makes you smile. It can be a tree, or a flower, or… I don’t know. A suspicious looking bush.”
Laughter everywhere. The kids started pointing toward the various hiding spots as the boys tried to duck, weave, or otherwise vanish into the landscaping.
One of them fell out of a bush. I didn’t even look. I knew it was Jeongin.
I just shook my head, grinning. “You guys are so bad at this.”
Class was in full swing now. The kids were scattered across the grass with little watercolor trays and sketchbooks, mixing colors, asking questions, holding up leaves like priceless artifacts.
I moved between them slowly, answering questions, adjusting paper angles, and trying very hard to ignore the absurd spy operation still playing out just beyond the tree line.
It was working — sort of — until I reached for one of my smaller round brushes and realized it wasn’t there.
I blinked, looking around the grass.
And then—
A shadow.
I turned just in time to see someone emerge from behind the park trash can like a tall, elegant cryptid.
Hyunjin.
Even completely disguised — oversized ball cap pulled low, designer sunglasses covering half his face, and a black mask hiding the rest — I knew immediately.
He walked up with all the nonchalance of a man who absolutely wasn’t trying to look normal, holding out the missing brush between two long fingers like it was sacred.
“You dropped this,” he murmured, voice muffled behind the mask.
My lips twitched. “Thank you, mysterious stranger.”
His eyes crinkled above the glasses.
I leaned in just slightly, my voice low. “Wanna help?”
He froze. Just for a moment.
Then nodded. “Yes.”
I blinked. “Really?”
He nodded again, a little firmer this time. “I can be helpful. I just—” He glanced toward the crowd of kids. “I can’t take this off. You know.”
I did.
One uncovered glimpse of Hyunjin and half the park might scream.
I smiled. “Then Mystery Masked Art Man it is.”
He rolled his eyes fondly. “Stop.”
I turned back to the kids. “Everyone — this is my assistant,” I said brightly, gesturing toward him. “He’s going to help answer questions while I walk around. He doesn’t talk much.”
He waved once. Silent. Dramatic.
The kids ate it up.
“Ooooh,” one whispered. “Is he famous?”
“He looks like a K-pop star,” another said.
I covered my mouth to hide the laugh. “Oh. Oh, him? He works at a bookstore.”
Hyunjin crouched next to one of the younger boys and pointed at his paper, gently correcting the way he held his brush. He didn’t say a word, but his movements were calm, graceful — careful.
And every few minutes, he’d glance up at me like he was checking to make sure I was okay. Like he wanted to be near me, even now.
I didn’t know how I got so lucky.
But I knew I’d be sketching this later. Hat, sunglasses, mask and all. My very own ridiculous, disguised muse.
The next forty-five minutes passed in a dream.
Hyunjin stayed by my side, silent and sweet, crouching beside each student with all the elegance of someone born to be adored. He held palettes, pointed to colors, adjusted sketchbooks. At one point, he even helped a tiny girl in pigtails refill her water cup — she looked up at him like he was made of stardust.
If only she knew.
Meanwhile, the others had mostly stayed put — though I’d caught Felix balancing a bottle of juice on Seungmin’s head, and Minho throwing goldfish crackers at Han behind a tree.
By the time I announced that class was wrapping up, the kids were sun-warmed and watercolor-stained, their sketchbooks full of soft green trees and lopsided fountains and, yes — more than one suspicious figure in a hat and sunglasses.
As they packed up, a few lingered. One bowed to me and handed me a folded napkin with a scribbled doodle of me holding a paintbrush. Another whispered, “I had fun,” in Korean before running back to her mom.
My heart could’ve burst.
When the last student disappeared around the path with their parent, I exhaled hard, sinking down onto the grass.
Hyunjin sat beside me, cross-legged and still fully disguised.
“Hey,” I said, nudging his arm. “You were amazing.”
He turned toward me. His voice was soft. “They really like you.”
I looked down at the napkin drawing in my hand, then back at him. “This… this made it real. I needed this.”
He nodded slowly. “You looked happy. Like you belonged here.”
I smiled. “I think I do.”
There was a pause. He tilted his head, then slowly reached up and adjusted his mask just enough to kiss my temple. “I’m proud of you.”
I melted. Instantly.
And then—
“CAN WE COME OUT YET?”
Felix’s voice shattered the quiet, followed by a rustle of leaves and a very dramatic stumble as Jeongin emerged from the bushes like a badly timed sitcom character.
Hyunjin groaned behind his mask.
“Yes,” I shouted back, laughing. “You idiots can come out now.”
The chaos spilled in quickly.
Minho sauntered across the grass like he’d been here the whole time. Han threw himself on the blanket like he hadn’t just eaten three protein bars in hiding. Seungmin handed me a cold drink with a shrug like he hadn’t spent an hour pretending to be a statue.
Felix gave me the biggest, most ridiculous hug from behind — arms around my shoulders, cheek against my hair. “You crushed it.”
“Can we be the next class?” Han asked. “I wanna paint Minho like one of your French girls.”
“You’ll paint nothing,” Minho replied. “You’d just draw boobs.”
“Not true,” Han said solemnly. “I’d draw incredibly detailed boobs.”
Jeongin plopped down next to me, already tugging open the leftover snack bag. “Are we proud of our teacher or what?”
Chan, arriving last, walked straight to me. No disguise. Just that look he always gave me when no one else was watching.
He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “You really belong here.”
“Alright,” I sighed, clapping my hands once. “Time to clean up before someone trips over a paint tray and blames me.”
“I would never,” Han said immediately, reaching for the closest one. “I’d blame Minho.”
“You always do,” Minho muttered, already folding up the spare picnic blanket like a pro.
The boys jumped in without hesitation — grabbing palettes, stacking brushes, folding easels, scooping up empty water cups and snack wrappers without being asked.
Felix carefully zipped up my brush roll, then tucked it into the side of my tote like it was glass. “This is where your magic lives,” he said, completely serious.
Jeongin held the nearly overflowing supply bag with both arms and made a dramatic grunting sound. “Someone take a picture. I’m carrying art history.”
Seungmin rolled his eyes and slung the foldable stool over his shoulder. “You’re carrying five pounds of wet paper and emotional fulfillment.”
Chan helped me collapse the main easel, brushing his fingers against mine as we worked in tandem. “You’re glowing,” he murmured. “You know that?”
I smiled, cheeks hot. “Feels good to be doing something that’s… mine.”
“You can have this and us,” he said, that quiet, steady Chan certainty in his voice. “You don’t have to choose.”
I didn’t say anything — I just kissed him, quick and grateful, and went back to packing.
Hyunjin, still fully disguised, wandered over with a bundle of papers he’d rescued from under the bench. “You really gonna draw me like this later?” he asked, gesturing to his mask and sunglasses.
I smirked. “Already planning the color palette.”
“Do I get a mysterious shadow aura?”
“You always do.”
He grinned under the mask. “Good.”
Within fifteen minutes, everything was packed. My easel, demo pages, travel supplies, and scraps were all tucked neatly into three different bags — all of which were now being carried by them.
“I could carry something,” I offered.
Eight voices: “No.”
“You taught all morning,” Felix said, slinging a tote over one shoulder. “We spied and sat in dirt.”
“You were barely sneaky,” I reminded them.
“Speak for yourself,” Jeongin muttered. “I was like a whisper.”
“You sneezed,” Seungmin said flatly.
“I was being realistic.”
We made our way out of the park in a slow little parade — me in the center, surrounded by them, protected on all sides like I was royalty. Pedestrians passed us with confused stares as they tried to figure out what, exactly, this group of men and their flustered, paint-splattered girlfriend was doing.
The others drifted ahead or behind in pairs, chatting, nudging each other, periodically arguing over where to stop for boba. But Chan and I walked side by side.
He held my hand like it was instinct. His thumb traced over the back of mine slowly, over and over — steady, grounding, full of thought.
I glanced over at him, taking in the black mask pulled over his nose and the oversized sunglasses hiding most of his face. But even behind all of that, I could tell.
He was smiling. That soft, proud Chan smile. The kind that started in his chest and radiated outward, impossible to hide.
“Are you crying under there?” I asked gently.
He gave a quiet laugh. Then sniffled. “Maybe.”
I bumped his arm with my shoulder. “You big softie.”
“You were so good,” he said, half to me, half to the sky. “Like, really good. I couldn’t stop watching you.” He paused, breathing in. “You looked like you belonged. Like you’ve always been here.”
I felt the tears prick up behind my eyes again — not sad ones, just that same full feeling that had been sitting in my chest all day.
“Honestly,” I whispered, “I wasn’t sure I ever would. Belong, I mean. Anywhere.”
Chan tightened his grip on my hand, gently tugging me a little closer. “Well. You do now.”
We walked in silence for a minute, the sounds of traffic and weekend chatter rising around us as we crossed a quiet street.
I looked over at him again, my heart doing that thing it always did when he was just being him. “Did you ever think…” I paused. “Like—back when you first found me outside that convenience store. Did you ever think this is where we’d end up?”
Chan gave a quiet breath of laughter. “Not in a million years. I was just trying to make sure you didn’t get hurt.”
I laughed. “That was a low point.”
“That was a fated point,” he corrected, voice soft and certain. “Everything changed that night, and the next morning.”
I squeezed his hand. “Yeah. It did.”
He bumped me with his shoulder, then let out a dramatic sniff and cleared his throat. “Okay—okay, I’ve reached my emotional limit for a sidewalk. I’m about to ruin my street cred.”
I smiled. “What street cred?”
“Rude.”
Another beat passed before he added, quieter this time, “We actually have something planned for tonight. Something… a little special.”
I tilted my head. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “Up on the roof. Around sunset.”
“What kind of special?”
The corners of his mouth twitched behind the mask. “You’ll see.”
“That’s not ominous at all.”
“It’s not ominous,” he said gently, pausing long enough to turn and face me. “It’s… important. Good.”
I studied him for a second — the nerves, the excitement, the way his fingers twitched just slightly in mine.
“Okay,” I said. “I trust you.”
“You always could,” he said softly, and kissed the top of my hand.
When we got back to the dorm, the vibe changed immediately.
The second the front door clicked shut behind us, the boys scattered like someone had dropped a bomb in the entryway.
“Okay,” Han shouted, already halfway down the hall. “Operation Sunset starts now!”
“Stop calling it that,” Minho muttered, trailing after him with a very serious-looking shopping bag tucked under his arm.
Felix darted past me up the stairs with what looked like a bundle of ribbon and a glass frame under one arm. Seungmin was already pulling his phone out, typing something furiously, while Changbin headed toward the kitchen muttering about timing.
I blinked. “What… is going on?”
Chan turned to me with that suspiciously innocent smile I’d come to know and love. “Nothing,” he said, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. “You just need to be ready by sunset.”
“That’s not suspicious at all.”
“Trust me?” he asked.
Always.
“Okay,” I said slowly, narrowing my eyes. “But if I walk up there and there’s a flash mob or a mariachi band, I’m coming back inside.”
He laughed, and then — like the world’s most charming criminal — slipped away down the hall.
I headed to my room, still in my post-teaching haze, and started unpacking my class bag. I laid out the color charts the kids had made, smiling as I stacked each sketch with gentle care. One had drawn Hyunjin in his full disguise — sunglasses, mask, hat, and all — labeled “Art Ninja.” I was absolutely keeping it forever.
Once everything was sorted and wiped down, I pulled open my closet and stared inside for a long minute.
I had no idea what I was dressing for. Fancy dinner? Movie night? A full-body paint war with Han and Jeongin? The mystery was stressing me out.
Eventually, I settled on something soft and simple: a black wrap dress with fluttery sleeves and a deep neckline that made me feel pretty without trying too hard. I laid it on the bed with a matching bralette and gold hoops, then sat down and let myself breathe.
I was still smiling when someone knocked lightly on my door.
“Come in,” I called.
It creaked open slowly, and Jeongin peeked his head around the edge. “Hey,” he said softly. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just… decompressing. Today was a lot.”
He stepped inside, closed the door, and walked over to me with quiet purpose. He didn’t say anything — just bent and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispered. Then turned and walked back out like he hadn’t just cracked my heart wide open.
Five minutes later, another knock.
This time it was Seungmin, holding a water bottle and a granola bar like he was doing emotional triage. “In case you forgot to eat,” he said, handing them over without making eye contact. “You tend to do that when you’re flustered.”
I blinked at him, smiling. “Thanks, Min.”
He turned to leave, but hesitated in the doorway. “You look really happy lately,” he said over his shoulder. “It suits you.”
And then he was gone.
By the time Changbin popped his head in to ask if I had any scissors, I was starting to get suspicious — but I couldn’t piece anything together. Not yet.
I changed into my dress slowly, slipping into the soft fabric, pinning my hair up in loose waves, applying a bit of gloss. Every few minutes, I’d catch myself smiling like an idiot and not even know why.
Something was coming. I just didn’t know what.
The sun was starting to dip below the rooftops when someone finally knocked on my door again — this time with three distinct raps and a muffled voice.
“Hey, it’s time,” Hyunjin called softly.
My heart leapt into my throat.
I smoothed down my dress, wiped my damp palms on my thighs, and opened the door.
Hyunjin stood there in soft tones — black slacks, an open collar shirt in a dusty rose, and his hair tied back in a low knot. He looked like a painting. And when his eyes landed on me, he blinked once… then smiled so big it crinkled his nose.
“You look beautiful,” he said. Then offered his hand. “Come on.”
We made our way up the stairs together. I could feel the warmth of the setting sun even before we reached the door to the rooftop, and my heart wouldn’t stop racing.
“Hyunjin…” I murmured. “What is this?”
He didn’t answer — just pushed open the door and stepped aside so I could walk through.
And then I saw it.
The rooftop had been transformed.
Fairy lights twinkled along the railing, warm and golden in the fading daylight. A low table was set near the center, surrounded by blankets and cushions in rich, soft colors. Candles flickered in glass jars, and someone had strung paper lanterns overhead, their gentle glow dancing across the rooftop like fireflies.
Seven of them stood waiting.
Chan was front and center, hands clasped, nervous energy radiating off him like heat. The others were spread out around the space — Minho adjusting something on the table, Felix bouncing on his toes, Seungmin fidgeting with his sleeves, Han whispering something to Jeongin that made him grin. Changbin was clutching something behind his back.
I froze.
“W-What…?” I blinked. “What is this?”
Chan stepped forward, smile trembling at the edges. “It’s us,” he said simply. “And it’s you. And it’s everything we’ve become.”
Hyunjin slipped away from my side to join him, and the two of them turned to face me — nervous, vulnerable, and absolutely sure.
Chan pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. So did Hyunjin.
My breath caught.
No one spoke. No one moved. The entire city seemed to hold its breath with me.
Then Chan smiled, tears already in his eyes.
“Emily…” he said softly. “You came into our lives like a storm — unexpected, overwhelming, and somehow exactly what we needed.”
Hyunjin stepped forward, voice shaking just slightly. “You didn’t just change us. You anchored us. You reminded us what it feels like to be seen. And loved. And safe.”
Chan opened the box.
Hyunjin did the same.
Inside each: a ring. One delicate, rose-gold and simple. The other a twist of silver and opal, elegant and strange. Both so them.
“We want to spend the rest of our lives loving you,” Chan said. “Not just as your boyfriends. Not just as a secret. But as your family.”
“Will you marry us?” Hyunjin whispered. “Please say yes.”
Tears spilled over before I could even breathe. “Yes,” I said, voice shaking. “Yes.”
They each slid their rings onto my fingers — one on each hand — and kissed me, one after the other. Soft and trembling.
And then the rest of them stepped forward, one by one.
Minho and Han approached together, their hands brushing. Han handed me a small velvet pouch, and inside were earrings — one moon-shaped, one star — mismatched, elegant, so them.
“From both of us,” Han said, grinning. “So you always remember we come as a set.”
Minho leaned in, kissing my cheek. “You’re stuck with us now.”
Jeongin was next. He held up a delicate silver necklace, the pendant made of two letters — our initials — woven together in a flowing, intertwined design.
“I saw this and thought of you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Of us.”
Changbin stepped forward holding a small box. Inside: a slim silver bracelet, and hanging from the chain… a tiny, perfectly sculpted Dwaekki charm.
“So you never forget your emotional support Dwaekki,” he said, blushing bright red.
Felix was already crying when he handed me a simple frame.
Inside was a single sheet of recipe paper, aged and stained.
“My brownie recipe,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “No one else has it. Not even my mom.”
I sobbed.
Seungmin came last.
He didn’t speak at first. Just handed me something soft, folded carefully — his favorite baseball jersey. The one he always wore on lazy Sundays. The one he’d never let anyone borrow.
“I know it’s stupid,” he muttered. “But this is the most important thing I own.”
I couldn’t speak. I dropped everything and threw my arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder.
“I love you,” I said through tears. “I love all of you so much.”
And they pulled me in, all of them, into one giant, tangled, messy, perfect group hug.
The lights flickered softly around us. The city skyline stretched in the distance. The sun sank behind the buildings.
I used to think home was a place.
Turns out, it’s eight people — holding me like I’ll never be lost again.

Chapter 19

I woke slowly, curled under a soft blanket in my bed - but the moment my eyes opened, I knew something was different.
It wasn’t the morning light or the ache in my hips or the faint scent of candles still clinging to my hair.
It was the rings.
One on each hand.
My fingers curled against my chest as I stared at them. One rose gold and simple. One silver and glowing with opal light. They looked so delicate, so intentional, nestled against my skin.
Like promises I could touch.
I sat up slowly, the room spinning for just a second. My legs ached. My chest was tight. The hem of Seungmin’s jersey was still bunched around my waist from where I’d pulled it on before collapsing into bed.
Around me, the gifts from last night were still there - like some enchanted memory that hadn’t faded yet.
The framed brownie recipe stood on my nightstand. The earrings from Minho and Han glinted in a dish beside my hairbrush. Jeongin’s necklace lay across the mirror like it had always belonged there. Changbin’s bracelet still circled my wrist - I must’ve forgotten to take it off.
I reached for it now, running my thumb over the tiny silver Dwaekki charm. And that’s when it hit me.
Everything.
The rooftop. The rings. The vows. The look in their eyes when they said I was home.
I was engaged.
To two men.
And loved by eight.
My heart clenched and I suddenly couldn’t breathe.
Not in a bad way - not quite. Just… overwhelmed. Cracked wide open.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them tightly as tears welled up without warning. It wasn’t sadness. Not fear. Just the weight of having something this good.
Because if I had it…
I could lose it.
“Breathe,” I whispered to myself. “You’re okay.”
But I wasn’t okay. Not really.
I reached blindly for my phone on the nightstand and typed with shaking fingers.
me: are you awake?
me: can you come here?
I didn’t even know who I’d sent it to until there was a soft knock at my door not thirty seconds later.
And then the door opened.
Minho.
Of course.
He stepped in quietly, already dressed, hair soft around his face, expression unreadable until his eyes met mine.
The moment he saw me curled up like that - still in Seungmin’s jersey, rings on my fingers, tears drying on my cheeks - his whole expression softened.
He didn’t say anything. Just crossed the room and sat down beside me on the bed.
I leaned into him without thinking, and he wrapped his arms around me instantly. Strong. Steady. Present.
“Min,” I whispered, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing,” he said quietly. “You’re just full.”
I let myself sob into his shoulder for a moment, releasing all the tension I didn’t even know I’d been holding. And he didn’t rush me. He didn’t tell me to get up or calm down or be okay.
He just held me.
I was still wrapped in his arms, my face tucked against the curve of his neck, when another knock sounded on the door. Softer this time - hesitant.
Minho didn’t move. He just raised his voice enough to call out, “It’s okay, come in.”
The door creaked open, and Chan stepped in. His hair was still messy from sleep, his hoodie swallowing him whole. Hyunjin followed right behind, barefoot, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. And Jeongin came in last, blinking sleepily, holding what looked like… a banana?
“I brought breakfast,” he said sheepishly, holding it up.
A laugh broke through my tears - choked and surprised and wet. Jeongin lit up.
“Hey,” Chan said softly, his eyes scanning my face as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Just… overwhelmed.”
Hyunjin didn’t say a word. He came to the other side of the bed and curled around me from behind, his arms slipping around my waist, his lips finding the back of my shoulder through the jersey. His breath was warm. His presence immediate.
“You don’t have to explain,” Minho murmured into my hair.
“I feel like I do,” I said, voice cracking. “I should be happy - I am happy. But my chest feels too full. Like I could just…” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Shatter.”
“Then shatter,” Chan whispered. “We’ll catch you.”
Something inside me gave out at that.
I reached for him - for all of them - and in seconds, I was surrounded. Minho holding me in his lap. Hyunjin’s lips moving gently across my shoulder, up the side of my neck. Chan’s hand stroking through my hair. Jeongin settling in beside me, taking my hand in both of his like it was something precious.
“We’ve got you,” Jeongin said, kissing the back of my fingers. “Always.”
And then… I kissed him.
Slowly, carefully, because I needed it.
His lips were soft and eager, his hands shaking just a little. When we broke apart, his cheeks were pink and his smile was crooked.
Chan leaned in next, cradling my face in both hands and kissing me with a reverence that made my heart stutter. “You’re everything,” he whispered against my lips. “Everything.”
Hyunjin shifted, slipping one arm under my knees and lifting me easily, laying me back in the middle of the bed like I was something sacred. Minho helped, brushing my hair away from my face as he lowered himself to kiss the curve of my stomach.
The energy changed - not fast, not rushed. Just warm and thick and devoted.
They worshipped me.
Minho’s mouth on my inner thigh, Hyunjin whispering soft praises into my skin as his fingers slid beneath the jersey. Jeongin holding my hand like a lifeline, trembling when I moaned his name. And Chan - ever steady, ever strong - kissing my ribs, my chest, my collarbones, grounding me while I came apart in their hands.
They took their time.
They reminded me who I was.
Ours, they whispered.
Always ours.
And when it was over - when I was trembling, sweaty, tear-streaked and breathless - they cleaned me up with warm cloths and whispered “I love you” like it was a spell. Like it would keep the outside world away just a little longer.
But it didn’t.
Because not even an hour later, Chan’s phone buzzed.
Chan picked it up from the nightstand and stared at the screen.
He blinked once. Twice. His mouth opened slightly, and then he turned the phone so we could all see.
A photo.
Grainy. Distant.
But unmistakable.
Hyunjin - in his hat, sunglasses, and mask - standing next to me at the park. My paintbrush in his hand.
“Shit,” Minho muttered.
Jeongin sat up straighter. “Where did that come from?”
“A fan account,” Chan said, his voice tight. “But it’s spreading fast. They’re speculating already.”
Hyunjin reached for my hand immediately. “We’ll handle it,” he said. “We won’t let them hurt you.”
Felix burst into the room with his laptop. “It’s already getting picked up. Comments are a mess.”
“I need to go,” Chan said suddenly, standing. “We need to call the company.”
I froze. “W-Wait - what do you mean?”
Chan turned to me, his eyes soft, but his jaw set.
“I mean… we need to tell them. Everything. The company. About you. About us.”
My heart nearly stopped.
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
Chan nodded. “They need to hear it from us. And we’ll make sure you’re protected. No matter what.”
Hyunjin squeezed my hand. “We’re not hiding anymore.”
Minho looked at me, voice calm. “They can speculate all they want. We know what’s real.”
I looked around the room. At every face. At every man who’d chosen me, again and again.
And I nodded.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s do it.”
“I’m calling them now.”
Chan’s voice was flat. Focused. His leadership armor slipping back into place like second skin.
He stepped out of the room with his phone pressed to his ear, pacing the hallway as the rest of us sat in stunned silence.
I could still feel the lingering warmth of their touch on my skin, the echoes of whispered I love you’s in my bones… and now, reality came crashing in. Cold. Loud. Public.
I reached for Hyunjin’s hand again. He didn’t let go.
From the hall, we could hear Chan’s voice - clipped and professional.
“...yes, something’s come up. It’s serious. We need to meet. Today.”
A pause.
“No, all of us. The whole group.”
He sounded calm. But I could see the way his hand kept flexing against his thigh, his jaw working harder than usual.
When he stepped back inside a few minutes later, he exhaled and shut the door behind him.
“Meeting’s set for three o’clock.”
“That’s in less than three hours,” Jeongin said quietly.
“Good,” Minho replied. “Less time for rumors to spread.”
“I still don’t know how this happened,” Felix muttered. “We were so careful.”
“I wasn’t,” I said softly. “I let my guard down.”
“No.” Hyunjin turned to me sharply. “You trusted us. That’s not the same.”
“I should’ve seen the camera -”
“And we should’ve made a better plan,” Minho cut in. “This isn’t on you, angel. It’s on all of us.”
There was a long pause.
Then Chan rubbed his face and muttered, “Okay. We need to prepare.”
“Prepare… how?” I asked.
Felix sat forward on the edge of the bed. “What we’re going to say. How we’re going to say it.”
Seungmin wandered in, holding two mugs of coffee, both of which he handed to me without question before plopping down beside Jeongin.
“Spill. What did I miss?”
“We’re forming a battle strategy,” Han said, lacing his fingers behind his head. “And possibly preparing to throw hands if it comes to that.”
“We’re not throwing hands,” Chan groaned.
“I might,” Minho added. “Depends on how they look at her.”
I felt a swell of affection so fierce it knocked the breath from my lungs.
“Okay,” Chan said, taking control again. “Here’s what we need. First: honesty. We tell them about Emily. The relationship. All of it.”
“Even the rings?” I whispered.
Chan met my eyes. “Especially the rings.”
Hyunjin nodded. “If we’re going to fight for her, we don’t hide her.”
Everyone murmured in agreement.
“Second,” Chan continued, “we present it as a united decision. Not just mine. Not just Hyunjin’s. All of us.”
“I’m writing that down,” Seungmin muttered. “United front. No hesitation.”
“Third,” Felix said, “we make it clear that she’s not a scandal. She’s part of our lives now. She’s not a mistake.”
My throat tightened.
“Fourth,” Jeongin added, “we don’t leave her out of the room unless she wants to be.”
Eight heads turned toward me.
“I… I want to be there,” I said, slowly. “If it’s about me, I want to stand beside you.”
Minho gave a tiny nod. “Good.”
“Then we go in together,” Chan said. “As a team.”
“Like the Avengers,” Han grinned.
“You’re not Iron Man,” Seungmin said flatly.
“None of us are. Emily’s Iron Man. We’re just her backup dancers.”
They all laughed - and somehow, it grounded me.
This wasn’t just about panic. It was love. Real. Unshakable. Even under fire.
________________________________________
Later That Afternoon — JYP Headquarters
The elevator ride was silent.
I stood between Chan and Hyunjin, hands locked tightly in theirs. Jeongin brushed against my side. Felix squeezed my shoulder. The rest fanned out around us like a shield.
When the doors opened, I swallowed hard.
The meeting room was stark - bright white walls, long table, leather chairs. A few familiar faces from management already sat at the end, confused and expectant.
They clearly hadn’t anticipated the full group. Or me.
But no one faltered.
Chan walked in like he owned the building and gestured for me to sit beside him. The rest filled in around the table without hesitation.
A company rep cleared their throat.
“Uh… this is… more than we were expecting.”
“I told you,” Chan said calmly, “we all needed to be here.”
Another rep gave me a wary glance. “And she is…?”
Hyunjin’s voice was more serious than I’d ever heard.
“She’s our fiancée.”
The room went silent.
And that’s when Chan leaned forward, placed both palms on the table, and said - voice unwavering:
“We’re here to tell you the truth. All of it. And we’re not asking for permission.”

Chapter 20

The silence in the room was deafening.
Chan’s words hung in the air like thunder still echoing in the mountains.
“We’re not asking for permission.”
For a few seconds, no one moved.
No one even blinked.
Across the table, the three company reps exchanged stunned glances. One of them - an older man in a slate-gray blazer with the tightest jaw I’d ever seen - leaned forward.
“Excuse me?” he asked, not because he hadn’t heard… but because he had.
Chan didn’t flinch. “You heard me.”
Minho sat back in his chair, arms folded. Hyunjin reached for my hand under the table and laced our fingers together like it was second nature. Jeongin shifted subtly, shoulders squared. Han and Felix were both leaning forward, eyes alert. Seungmin looked like he was two seconds from throwing a stapler.
I swallowed.
Chan took a breath, calmer now.
“We didn’t come here to be dramatic,” he said, “and we’re not trying to blow anything up. But we are being honest with you. Transparent. Because it’s better that it come from us.”
One of the reps nodded slowly, clearly trying to keep the peace. “Alright. Let’s talk, then. From the beginning.”
And so they did.
Chan explained how we met. How I’d been staying with them. How the relationships developed - not as some scandalous fling, but as something deep. Intentional. Real.
“We didn’t plan this,” Hyunjin added. “But we’re not walking away from it.”
Minho spoke next. “We’re not asking to go public. Not yet. But if that time comes, we want to be prepared. We want you to be prepared.”
Jeongin’s voice was quiet but firm. “We’re protecting her the same way we protect each other.”
“And if anyone tries to twist this,” Han said, “we’ll twist it right back.”
I choked on a laugh and immediately smothered it behind my hand. The reps weren’t smiling - but they weren’t shouting either. They were… listening.
That was almost scarier.
“So… she’s staying with you?” one of them asked, looking directly at me for the first time.
I nodded. “Yes. Since shortly after I moved to Seoul.”
“And you’re engaged,” the woman beside him said, glancing at the rings.
“Two of us proposed,” Chan clarified, “but we all agreed on it. And the rest of the group gave her tokens of their commitment.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” Seungmin muttered.
The room went quiet again.
Then the oldest rep sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“This is… unprecedented,” he said.
No shit.
“But,” he continued, “you came to us. You didn’t try to cover it up. That matters.”
He glanced down at his tablet, scrolling.
“This photo going around - it’s not confirmed who’s in it yet. But it’s spreading. Which means we need a strategy. Now.”
My heart stopped.
“What can we do?” Chan asked immediately. “We’ll address it if we have to -”
“No,” the rep said, holding up a hand. “Let us handle that part.”
He looked at each of them, then at me.
“You’re giving us the truth. That gives us time. Control. That’s all we’ve ever asked for.”
Another rep spoke up, voice gentler.
“Your contracts won’t be affected. Not if we handle this right. But you need to stay careful. If more comes out, we’ll need a tighter message.”
A tense beat.
Then -
“You’ll support her?” Chan asked, softly but clearly. “You won’t make her leave?”
“No,” the woman said, surprised. “We won’t do that.”
A breath I didn’t know I was holding escaped me.
Felix visibly sagged in relief.
“So,” the first rep said, standing. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”
“We’ll have our PR team monitor and manage the spread of the photo,” the first rep said, tapping notes into his tablet. “It’s blurry, no facial recognition tags yet, so we can work with that. We’ll prep a neutral response in case it gains traction - something vague but disarming.”
“Vague how?” Minho asked, eyes narrowing.
“Something along the lines of: The members often interact with friends, fans, and staff - but we respect their privacy and thank everyone for doing the same.”
“That doesn’t confirm or deny anything,” Seungmin muttered.
“Exactly,” the rep said. “It lets us control the narrative without inviting more speculation.”
Chan nodded, leaning forward. “And if the photo doesn’t die down?”
“Then we pivot. Carefully.”
The woman in the middle cleared her throat. “At that point, we may need to issue an official statement. Preferably from the group - not the company - to humanize the situation. But we’re not there yet.”
Hyunjin tilted his head. “And when we do get there? If we choose to tell the fans?”
“Then you tell them your truth,” she said. “But we coach you on timing. On tone. And we make sure Emily is protected.”
I blinked at that.
“You’d protect me?”
“You’re part of their world now,” the rep said plainly. “Which means you’re part of ours.”
Felix looked like he was going to cry.
“Do we need legal?” Han asked. “Like… contracts or security or whatever?”
“We’ll draw something up,” the man said. “Not to restrict her - to protect her. To make it clear she’s not some random person. She’s in this with you. That matters.”
I swallowed hard.
It was the most surreal thing - sitting in a sterile boardroom, still feeling Minho’s kiss on my skin from this morning, and now hearing the words “legal protection” tossed around like I was royalty under siege.
“Do I need to… do something?” I asked softly.
The woman smiled faintly. “Just be yourself. That’s what they’re all fighting for, right?”
The boys all nodded - every single one of them.
“We’ll need updated talking points for interviews,” one rep added. “Just in case. And you should probably avoid being seen in public together for a little while.”
“Not forever,” Jeongin said firmly.
“No,” she agreed. “Just until we know where things stand.”
“And if this does come out?” Chan asked. “If the fans find out everything?”
The room was quiet for a moment.
Then, surprisingly, it was Minho who spoke.
“Then we deal with it. Together.”
________________________________________
The meeting wrapped with a lot of logistics. Media risk assessments. Backup plans. Legal contacts. And through it all, Chan remained calm, composed, in charge.
When we finally left the building, we didn’t speak until we hit the elevator.
And when the doors closed behind us, Felix let out a massive sigh.
“I’m sweating through my soul,” he groaned.
Han flopped dramatically against the mirrored wall. “That was so tense, I could feel my ancestors clenching.”
Minho snorted, bumping shoulders with him. “You did great.”
Jeongin turned to me, eyes soft. “You okay?”
I nodded - somehow, I was.
“I’m good,” I whispered. “Really good.”
Chan’s hand slipped into mine as the elevator hummed down.
“I meant it, you know,” he said, voice barely audible. “We’re not asking for permission. Not from them. Not from anyone.”
I squeezed his hand.
“I know.”

Back at the dorm

By the time we got back, everyone collapsed in the living room like they'd just finished a world tour.
Shoes kicked off. Hoodies thrown across chairs. Felix was belly-down on the floor, cheek to the hardwood, arms spread wide like he was waiting to be chalk-outlined. Jeongin was already rifling through the kitchen for snacks.
I dropped onto the couch with a soft exhale, nestled between Hyunjin and Minho, who each threw an arm around me like it was instinct. It was. Everything about this felt instinctual now - and still, somehow, brand new.
Chan stood near the TV, rubbing the back of his neck. His expression was somewhere between thoughtful and exhausted.
“They mentioned we should do a few lives,” he said eventually. “To keep things… normal.”
Han groaned into the throw pillow. “Define normal, because that meeting was like watching a scandal movie in 4K.”
“I think they meant our usual kind of lives,” Seungmin said. “Goofing around. Eating. Playing games. Reminding STAY that everything’s business as usual.”
Felix rolled over dramatically. “We could do the blindfolded noodle challenge!”
“No one wants to watch you nearly choke on soba,” Jeongin called from the kitchen.
“Yes, they do. STAY loves when we eat food! It’s cozy.”
I giggled into Minho’s shoulder, and he leaned down to kiss the top of my head.
Chan cleared his throat. “Seriously, though. We should probably do a few over the next week. Not just group ones. Individual or pairs. Keep the tone casual. Laugh a lot. Look well-rested -”
“Impossible,” Han muttered.
“—and maybe limit how much we mention the outside world,” Chan finished. “The more normal we look, the less likely people are to dig.”
There was a long pause.
Then Hyunjin sighed and murmured into my hair, “I guess I should film one with Felix. Or Seungmin. The chaos pairings always distract people.”
Seungmin deadpanned, “Let me know what day you want to ruin your reputation.”
Felix perked up. “We could do a makeup live. I could paint Hyunjin’s face like a watermelon.”
“I’ll destroy you in your sleep,” Hyunjin replied, fully serious.
Jeongin appeared with a bowl of grapes and flopped onto the floor in front of the couch. “I’ll go live with Bin hyung. We’ll just yell at each other about food for an hour.”
“Perfect,” Chan said. “Chaos sells.”
“And what about me?” I asked softly.
Everyone looked at me.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan said gently. “You’re not part of the content plan. Not unless you want to be.”
I hesitated. “But… what if I do?”
The silence that followed was immediate.
Then Minho leaned in, eyes sharp. “What are you thinking?”
“Not anything huge,” I said quickly. “Just… I could help behind the scenes. Hold the camera. Laugh off-screen. Be part of it, but not in the spotlight.”
Hyunjin’s eyes warmed. “You already are.”
Felix was smiling like sunshine. “Honestly, fans love mystery. A giggle off-screen? A voice? They’ll lose their minds.”
“You’d still get dragged,” Seungmin warned. “Some STAY will connect the dots.”
“I know,” I said. “But they’ll connect them eventually anyway. Might as well do it on our terms.”
That earned me a look of pure respect from Chan. “You’re braver than you think, you know that?”
“Only because I have eight bodyguards.”

***

I was curled up on Hyunjin’s bed, wrapped in one of his oversized sweaters, still humming with adrenaline from the meeting earlier. The boys had dispersed after dinner - some gaming, some writing, some pretending to nap.
And Hyunjin?
He decided to go live.
“Sketch & chill,” he’d said. “Let STAY see what I’ve been working on lately.”
The setup was casual - ring light, art books, a few tubes of paint. His phone balanced on a little stand angled toward the desk. From where I lay behind the camera, I had the perfect view of him: sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed, long fingers stained with charcoal and ochre.
The perfect view, and zero complaints.
“You okay?” he asked under his breath, glancing over his shoulder before hitting the live button.
“I’m good,” I whispered. “Need me to hide under the bed?”
He grinned. “You’re fine. Just don’t seduce me mid-sketch and we’ll get through this.”
I bit my lip and nodded solemnly. “No promises.”
With a final deep breath, he tapped the screen - and just like that, the comments began to flood in.
🖤 Hwang Artist Time!!!
🎨 KING OF CREATIVITY
👀 he looks TOO good rn what the hell
💜💜💜
“Hey STAY,” Hyunjin said, smile soft but dazzling. “Just a chill night tonight. I figured I’d show you a few pieces I’ve been working on lately. I’ve been sketching more… personal things recently.”
The chat exploded.
🥺 personal?? Like what??
Hyunjin being all soft again 😭
I bet it’s his dog
No it’s flowers. It’s always flowers lol
What if it’s someone 👀

I bit back a smile as he flipped open one of his larger sketchbooks, carefully angling it toward the camera.
He started slow - some still lifes, a few surreal landscapes, one soft sketch of Kkami curled up on a pillow. Then came the portraits. Loose, expressive. Unfinished but unmistakably Him.
And then… he turned to the wrong page.
I saw it before he did — and my entire body tensed.
Because there I was.
Me.
Half-asleep and glowing in charcoal, hair spread out across this very bed, lips parted slightly, eyes soft and dreamy. And below that sketch - another. Me laughing. A third: sitting cross-legged, painting something. And another. More intimate. More vulnerable.
The chat went feral.
😳 wait who is THAT
THAT’S A WOMAN. HELLO?
sir who is she
is that... the same person???
WHO IS SHEEEE
Hyunjin blinked. Froze. And then his whole face turned pink.
“I – uh -” he stammered. “Sorry, these are… just studies. Character stuff. Practice.”
But his hands were already flipping to a new page, and guess what?
More me.
This time, one was colored. And clearly recent. My profile in warm golds, the sweep of my hair caught in sunset tones. The tiny scar on my cheek that no one but the boys knew about.
He covered it quickly with his palm, clearing his throat.
“These are, uh… someone important to me.”
The comments BLEW UP.
🥹 OH???
important??? to you???
say sike rn
NO WAIT I’M HAPPY FOR HIM BUT I’M ALSO SCREAMING
does she know she’s your muse 😭
okay but she’s stunning wtf

And then, to make things so much worse, Kkami - who had been sleeping peacefully next to me for the past twenty minutes - launched herself toward the door as if possessed and let out three sharp barks.
“Shhh!” I hissed, catching her mid-pounce and pulling her back to the bed. “It’s okay, baby – shhhh -”
Hyunjin’s face went rigid.
From behind the camera, my voice - unmistakably mine - had slipped through loud and clear.
The chat paused.
Then -
👀👀👀
wait. was that… a GIRL
WAS THAT A VOICE
DID Y’ALL HEAR THAT
YO
WHO’S IN THE ROOM WITH HIM
I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEWWWWW IT

Hyunjin slowly looked at the camera. He exhaled.
Then, instead of denying it, he just smiled - soft and wrecked and in love - and said:
“…Guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?”
The chat exploded again - a frenzy of emojis, questions, declarations of undying love, betrayal, congratulations, and total spirals.
And Hyunjin?
Hyunjin just froze.
His hand hovered over the screen for a beat - and then he ended the live with a shaky tap and a whispered, “Shit.”
Silence fell over the room.
I was still holding Kkami, who seemed thoroughly unbothered by the fact that she’d just detonated the internet.
Hyunjin turned to me slowly, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with horror. “I - I didn’t - fuck.”
“Did I make it worse?” I whispered, heart pounding.
“No. No, baby, it was me. I flipped to the wrong page, and then the voice -” He dragged his hands down his face and groaned.
And then…
From somewhere down the hallway:
“HYUNJIN!”
Chan.
The leader voice.
Activated.
We both froze.
“OH NO,” Hyunjin whispered, looking like a man waiting for a meteor to hit.
Seconds later, the sound of stomping. Heavy, fast, determined. Like doom in fuzzy socks.
The door flew open.
Chan stood there, eyes wide, flushed, holding his phone in his hand, Instagram still open and glitching.
“Tell me you didn’t -”
“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!”
“YOU SHOWED HER FACE?!”
“No! Just sketches! But like… a lot of sketches.”
“Oh my God, Hyunjin!”
Felix appeared behind Chan, towel around his neck, hair wet, blinking like he’d just run out of the shower. “Why is everyone yelling -”
“HE WENT LIVE AND SHOWED EMILY’S ENTIRE EXISTENCE.”
“I didn’t mean to!” Hyunjin hissed. “I was just showing everyone my new sketches! I wasn’t even thinking about it! They were just there—she’s everywhere!”
Everyone looked at me.
I sunk deeper into the comforter, still holding Kkami, cheeks absolutely burning.
“I only said like, two words,” I whispered. “And technically they were for the dog.”
Chan looked like he might combust.
Then he closed the door behind him, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath.
“Okay. Okay. It’s fine. We’ll spin it. We’ll say it’s for a drama. Or concept art. Or a painting commission. God, why do you have to be so talented, Hyunjin?!”
“I didn’t think I’d show those pages!”
“WHY DO YOU HAVE MULTIPLE ANGLES OF HER IN BED?!”
“Artistic intimacy!”
Felix snorted. “We are so screwed.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean to ruin anything -”
“No,” Chan cut in, immediately, fiercely. “This is not your fault. At all. This is just -” He sighed. “A Hyunjin Moment™.”
Hyunjin dropped onto the bed beside me, dramatically burying his face in the pillows. “I’m a disaster.”
I gently patted his back. “A very pretty disaster.”
Chan groaned. “We have to go full PR mode tomorrow.”
An hour later, all of us were gathered in the living room like we were about to watch election results come in.
Except instead of maps and polling numbers, we were watching ourselves trend across X, Threads, and Instagram in real-time.
Hyunjin had changed into a hoodie and was clinging to a throw pillow like it was a flotation device. Chan was pacing. Jeongin and Seungmin were side-by-side, phones in hand, scrolling so fast it was making me dizzy.
Minho brought popcorn.
“Okay,” Han said, flopping onto the floor dramatically. “Who wants to hear the top conspiracy theories so far?”
“Hit me,” Felix said, curled up next to me on the couch.
Han cleared his throat and held up his phone like a proud game show host.
“Number one: The mysterious woman is a French model who inspired Hyunjin’s unreleased solo.”
“French??” Hyunjin cried. “Why French?!”
“She had ‘main character aura,’ apparently,” Jeongin muttered, eyes glued to his phone.
“Number two,” Han continued, “it’s a fictional character from an upcoming drama that you wrote and are secretly starring in.”
“I do not have that kind of energy,” Hyunjin groaned.
“Number three: she’s his long-lost twin sister.”
At that, everyone just stared at him.
“What??” Han shrugged. “STAY is creative.”
Felix held out his phone. “Oh my god, look at this edit someone made of you sketching and her fading in like a ghost.”
I blinked. “That’s my face.”
“Sort of,” he said. “They combined it with four K-drama actresses and some AI filter. It’s like… you, but if you were haunted.”
Hyunjin dropped his head to my lap and groaned. “I’m going to jail.”
“It’s not that bad,” Seungmin said, still scrolling. “A lot of STAY are actually defending it. Saying it’s cute. Private. That you looked inspired and soft.”
“Yeah,” Jeongin added, grinning. “One user said, and I quote, ‘I don’t even care who she is. Let Hyunjin be in love if it makes him paint like that.’”
My heart did a weird, fluttery flip.
Hyunjin peeked up at me. “I was in love when I painted those.”
“WAS?” Felix said, mock offended.
“Am. Jesus.”
Chan finally sat down, rubbing his temples. “Okay. So here’s where we’re at: No facial recognition. No official confirmation. The internet is spiraling, but it’s mostly positive. If we don’t feed it, it might calm down.”
“Should we delete the live?” Hyunjin asked, sitting up again.
Minho shook his head. “Too late. It’s screen-recorded and reposted everywhere. Taking it down just makes it look worse.”
“We could lean into it,” Han offered. “Do a ‘mystery muse’ concept. Let STAY obsess without giving them real answers.”
“No. No more mystery,” Chan said firmly. “We need to keep a low profile for at least the next week.”
“Does that mean no more sketching lives?” Hyunjin asked, pouting.
“Not unless your sketchbook’s filled with safe-for-work fruit.”
Han gasped. “You should draw Emily as a mango.”
Hyunjin grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.
________________________________________
Across the platforms, notifications just kept pouring in. Fan art. Edits. Analysis threads. One person had zoomed into the sketchbook and tried to decode my earring shape based on a blurry line. Another posted timestamps and compared them to my voice from a three-second clip at a gallery opening last month.
It was… wild.
And surreal.
And just a little bit thrilling.
“This is insane,” I murmured.
Minho passed me a handful of popcorn. “Welcome to the circus, angel.”

Late that night

The dorms had finally gone quiet.
After hours of spiraling online, joking and overanalyzing, and Chan gently (but firmly) making everyone shut their devices off, the boys drifted to their rooms one by one.
Felix kissed my temple.
Minho squeezed my shoulder.
Han muttered something about “mango muses” in his sleep.
And Hyunjin took my hand and led me to my room.
Neither of us said much as we got ready for bed - just soft glances, heavy exhales, the shared weight of an accidental reveal still hanging in the space between us. But once we were under the covers, Hyunjin immediately curled around me like I was his own personal moon.
One long leg hooked over mine. One arm tucked under my head. The other wrapped around my waist, holding me close. His chest was warm and solid against my back, his breath steady on my neck.
“I really am sorry,” he murmured.
“I’m not mad.”
“I just… wanted to share my art. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You love me,” I whispered. “That’s all it showed.”
He pressed a slow kiss to my shoulder. “So much.”
We lay there in the quiet, letting the storm fade outside the walls of my room. His fingers traced light shapes on my skin, slow and absentminded.
I had just started to drift when -
Knock knock.
My door creaked open.
I turned my head slightly as Jeongin peeked in, hair a mess, wearing a big hoodie and sleep shorts. His eyes were round, almost shy.
“Can I -?” he asked softly.
Hyunjin lifted his head. “Of course.”
I reached out a hand toward him from where I lay, and he padded across the room and climbed in on my other side.
“Sorry,” he whispered, settling under the covers. “Just couldn’t sleep.”
“Too much Twitter?” I teased.
“That… and I missed you.”
My heart gave a quiet lurch.
He scooted closer until his forehead pressed to mine. Hyunjin’s arm slid more firmly around my waist, anchoring me between them. Warm. Safe. Wanted.
“I like it here,” Jeongin whispered, lashes brushing my cheek. “With you. Like this.”
“Me too,” I breathed.
Hyunjin's thumb stroked a slow line over my hip.
“Night, my muse,” he whispered.
Jeongin chuckled sleepily. “Night, mango girl.”
I groaned. “If you two start calling me that, I’m leaving the country.”
“Too late,” Jeongin said, nuzzling in.
“I’ll paint you as a mango,” Hyunjin added.
“Stop -”
But I was already smiling.
And soon - with two heartbeats pressed close, steady and real… I finally drifted to sleep.

The next morning

I woke to the quiet rhythm of breathing and the warmth of bodies pressed close to mine.
The curtains were still drawn, bathing the room in a soft gray haze. Outside, the city hummed faintly - but in here, everything was slow. Still. Quiet.
Jeongin’s face was only inches from mine, lips parted, lashes casting tiny shadows on his cheeks. He looked so peaceful like that - boyish and beautiful, hair tousled, mouth kiss-swollen from the night before.
I couldn’t help myself.
I leaned in, brushing my lips across his once. Then again. A third time, just barely there.
He stirred.
“Mmnn… hi,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
“Hi,” I whispered back, fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
He blinked his eyes open slowly, then smiled - lazy and crooked and dangerous. His hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer as his lips found mine again, deeper this time. More insistent. His tongue brushed mine, and he groaned low in his chest, thumb teasing the hem of my sleep shirt.
I melted against him, arching slightly into his touch - until a third hand slid down my back.
I startled a little, gasping into Jeongin’s mouth.
“Oh,” I breathed.
“Mm?” Hyunjin hummed behind me, his voice thick and velvet-soft. “Don’t mind me.”
His arm was already around my waist, but now his palm had slipped lower, fingers curving over the swell of my hip. He kissed the back of my neck, slow and open-mouthed, as his other hand traveled down to my thigh.
Jeongin pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes.
“You okay?”
I nodded - breathless. “More than.”
He smiled and kissed me again, and this time it was hungrier, a little messier. I could feel the shift in him, the way his body pressed more firmly against mine. He tasted like sleep and sugar and want.
Hyunjin’s fingers dragged the hem of my shirt higher as he kissed the spot behind my ear, teeth grazing lightly.
“You’re so soft in the morning,” he whispered. “Warm. Sweet. I could spend all day touching you.”
I whimpered - caught between them, every nerve ending singing.
“Then don’t stop,” I whispered.
Jeongin kissed me again, slower now, like he had all the time in the world. His hand slid beneath the hem of my shirt, fingers brushing over my bare stomach. His thumb found my ribs, then higher, coaxing a soft gasp from my lips as he cupped my breast.
Behind me, Hyunjin’s hand roamed too - down my thigh, over the curve of my hip, then back up to slide under my shirt from the other side. Warm palms, curious fingers. No urgency - just touch, and more touch, and more.
“Take this off,” Hyunjin murmured, tugging at the sleep shirt. “Let us see you.”
I sat up just enough to lift it over my head, tossing it to the floor. The air was cool against my skin, but their hands warmed me instantly.
Jeongin leaned down to take my nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking, teeth grazing. I moaned softly, threading my fingers into his hair as he sucked gently, lavishing attention that made me arch into him.
Hyunjin’s hand slipped between my thighs.
“Oh -”
I felt him grin against my neck as he found me already wet. His fingers dipped in, teasing lazy circles, and I gasped.
“God, baby,” he whispered. “Already?”
“She’s sensitive in the morning,” Jeongin murmured, switching sides. “Aren’t you?”
I nodded, lips parted, already panting.
Jeongin shifted, hand trailing down my stomach to meet Hyunjin’s between my legs. Together, their fingers worked me open - slow, deliberate, every movement designed to make me come undone bit by bit.
I trembled between them, hands gripping sheets and shoulders, head lolling back as my thighs fell further apart.
“You’re shaking,” Hyunjin whispered, kissing my temple. “Want more?”
“Please,” I whimpered.
“I’ll take care of you,” Jeongin promised, kissing me again - deep, tender, possessive.
Hyunjin pulled away briefly, and I heard the soft rustle of fabric as he slid his pants off. Then Jeongin shifted, pushing his own down just enough, his cock brushing against my thigh, hot and hard and ready.
“Who do you want first, baby?” Hyunjin murmured from behind. “Tell us.”
I looked up at Jeongin, flushed and breathing hard.
“You,” I whispered.
His smile was wrecked. “Fuck - come here.”
He lay back, guiding me to straddle him. I braced my hands on his chest, rolling my hips down as he slid into me inch by inch. We both moaned - low, needy - as I took him fully.
“You feel so good,” he breathed, hands gripping my waist.
Behind me, Hyunjin kissed my spine, then reached around to toy with my clit as I rode Jeongin slowly. The rhythm was perfect - Jeongin’s cock deep and filling, Hyunjin’s fingers teasing, coaxing another orgasm out of me even before the first one had faded.
I came with a gasp, trembling against Jeongin’s chest as he held me, hips stuttering beneath mine. He spilled inside me moments later, kissing me through it, soft groans vibrating against my lips.
Before I could even catch my breath, Hyunjin was pulling me gently back - off Jeongin and into his arms.
“My turn,” he whispered, kissing my shoulder as he settled me on my knees.
He slid into me from behind in one slow, perfect thrust. My fingers curled into the mattress, head falling back as he fucked me with long, steady strokes.
“You’re so perfect like this,” he groaned. “Open and soft. Letting us have you.”
Jeongin lay on his side in front of me now, stroking my cheek, murmuring soft praise as Hyunjin picked up his pace. I felt everything - the stretch, the heat, the love in every movement, every kiss pressed to my spine and shoulder.
“Let go,” Hyunjin whispered. “Come again for me.”
I did - body clenching around him, crying out as he followed right after, spilling deep inside me with a rough, broken moan.
We collapsed together, breathless and tangled, sweaty and sated.
Jeongin pulled me into his chest. Hyunjin curled around my back.
And for a long, perfect moment, no one said anything.
Then Jeongin mumbled, “...so breakfast?”
I groaned. “Absolutely not.”
Hyunjin chuckled into my hair. “I could eat.”
“Men.”

Chapter 21

I was sitting on the counter in Chan’s hoodie, bare legs swinging, a bowl of yogurt and fruit in my lap as Felix flitted around behind me humming.
The kitchen was sunlit and loud, in the best possible way.
Minho was flipping eggs with the grace of a trained chef and the sass of someone who absolutely knew it. Jeongin sat cross-legged at the table with Han, both of them dramatically debating whether or not I should be declared “official dorm MVP.”
“She gave you both her last gyoza,” Seungmin said flatly, sipping his tea. “You’re all whipped.”
“Objectively true,” Han muttered, mouth full of toast.
Jeongin grinned at me, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “I would die for you.”
I snorted, nearly choking on a strawberry.
“I mean it,” he said with a wink. “Right here. Right now.”
“You’re not dying for anyone until you finish your damn protein,” Chan called, walking in with wet hair and a tank top that really should’ve been illegal this early in the day.
Hyunjin trailed behind him, wearing his “I’m innocent” smile that absolutely meant he wasn’t. He paused just long enough to steal a bite of my yogurt, popping the spoon in his mouth and smirking.
“You taste sweet,” he said under his breath.
I blushed. Of course.
It was chaotic, and flirty, and beautiful - and then all at once, the mood shifted.
Ping.
One by one, phones lit up.
A text from management. Group chat.
[JYP]: Meeting at noon. Mandatory. Everyone.
[JYP]: It’s about last night.
The kitchen fell quiet. Even the eggs stopped sizzling.
Hyunjin slowly lowered himself into the seat beside Seungmin, his posture still but his jaw tight.
Chan was already tapping a reply, thumb flying across his screen. “I’ll confirm. Nobody panic.”
“They wouldn’t say ‘mandatory’ unless it was serious,” Jeongin said quietly.
“Of course it’s serious,” Minho muttered. “Half the fandom thinks Hyunjin’s dating a mystery girl who owns a small white dog and has tastefully arched eyebrows.”
Han blinked. “Wait - Emily has tastefully -”
“Not the time,” Seungmin snapped.
My stomach dropped.
Felix leaned back against the counter beside me, eyes scanning the message again.
“Let’s eat,” Chan said finally. “No point spiraling before we know anything.”
But the room wasn’t loud anymore.
No teasing.
No flirting.
Just the quiet clink of forks and a dozen unsaid worries thick in the air.
I stepped into the hallway to catch my breath, heart racing in a way I didn’t want to name. The sunlight from the window felt too bright. Everything felt like too much, even the silence.
A moment later, I heard footsteps behind me.
“Hey.”
Chan’s voice was soft, careful. I turned to see him standing there with his phone in one hand and a crease between his brows. His other hand reached out for mine - instinctual now. I let him take it.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “I just needed a second.”
He nodded and pulled me closer. “Me too.”
A door opened behind us. Hyunjin stepped out, sunglasses already in place, jaw clenched like he’d been grinding his teeth. When he saw us, he paused.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt -”
“You didn’t,” I said quickly. “Come here.”
He hesitated only a second before stepping into the space between us. Chan wrapped one arm around his shoulders, pulling him in until the three of us were a soft, quiet knot in the middle of the hallway.
For a long moment, we didn’t speak. We just breathed together. My head rested on Chan’s shoulder. Hyunjin’s hand found mine. The world stilled.
“Do you think they’re going to make us end this?” I whispered.
“No,” Chan said immediately.
“I don’t know,” Hyunjin admitted at the same time.
We all exhaled together.
“I’ll fight them if they try,” Chan said finally. “They don’t get to dictate who we love.”
Hyunjin leaned his head against mine. “If this is a war, we’re going in together.”
My throat tightened.
“I love you both,” I said softly. “No matter what they say.”
Chan kissed the top of my head. Hyunjin squeezed my fingers.
“We know,” Chan whispered. “And we love you more.”

***

We arrived at JYP just before noon.
Two black SUVs pulled into the underground parking deck like we were being delivered for execution. Everyone was quiet. Focused. Tense.
Hyunjin kept jiggling his knee. Jeongin cracked his knuckles. Chan sat still as stone, arms crossed, jaw tight, the quiet kind of furious that made people listen.
The moment we stepped off the elevator, the building shifted. Staff glanced up from behind desks, conversations paused. Everyone knew why we were there.
“Straight to conference room A,” one of the coordinators said, eyes darting to me for half a second before flicking away again.
We filed in. Long table. Frosted glass. Bottled water.
Three execs already waiting.
The head of PR. One of the creative directors. And Mr. Seo, the senior A&R manager - the one who always smiled too tightly.
None of them were smiling now.
We sat down.
Chan was at my right. Hyunjin at my left. The others filled in around us like a protective circle. No one spoke.
The silence stretched, broken only by the click of a pen.
Then Mr. Seo cleared his throat. “We’re not here to scold anyone.”
Hyunjin blinked.
Chan raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No,” the PR rep confirmed. “The truth is… this isn’t going away.”
She turned her iPad so we could all see it. A flood of screenshots - clips from Hyunjin’s live, slowed and brightened. Stills of my face. The edge of Kkami’s tail. Fan captions. Theories.
A headline on one post read:
“STAY Detectives Think They’ve Found Hyunjin’s Girlfriend.”
Another:
“Who Is ‘Dorm Girl’? Internet Believes She’s More Than Just a Friend.”
My face flushed hot. Felix grabbed my hand under the table.
“The story’s out there,” the PR rep said gently. “And here’s the thing - most of the responses aren’t bad.”
She flipped to another page.
Supportive comments. Cute fancams.
Even edits of Hyunjin sketching with sparkly text like “he’s in love fr.”
Han let out a soft, shocked laugh.
“We’ve been discussing this internally,” the creative director said. “And we think the best strategy... is to lean into it.”
Chan’s expression barely flickered. “Lean into it?”
“Be honest,” she said. “Not all the details - not everything. But enough. Enough to take control of the story instead of letting it control you.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Jeongin blinked. “You want us to... tell the truth?”
Mr. Seo nodded. “Yes. On your terms.”
Hyunjin swallowed. “Even about her?”
He didn’t say my name. He didn’t need to.
The PR lead nodded. “Especially about her.”
My heart pounded. I looked to Chan.
He looked stunned. But then he smiled.
Just barely.
“We thought you were going to tell us to break up with her,” he said. “We were ready to fight.”
“We know,” the PR rep said dryly. “That’s why we’re not.”
We walked out in silence, blinking against the bright hallway lights like we’d just stepped through a portal.
No one spoke until we reached the elevator.
Then Hyunjin exhaled hard. “What the actual fuck just happened?”
“That was... not what I expected,” Han added, eyebrows raised.
Minho cracked his neck. “I still feel like we’re being punked.”
Chan’s hand slid into mine. He gave it a gentle squeeze before turning to the group. “Let’s head back. We need to talk. Really talk.”

***

Back at the dorm - an hour later
We were all gathered in the living room. The blinds were drawn, phones silenced, takeout scattered across the table. Felix passed around bottled waters like it was a team meeting.
Because it was.
Chan stood in the middle of the room, pacing slowly, brow furrowed in thought.
“So,” he started, “they’re giving us the green light to tell our truth. On our terms. Which means we need to figure out what we’re telling... and how.”
Hyunjin, curled up beside me on the couch, let out a slow breath. “Do we say I’m dating her? Or that we are?”
“Both options will set the internet on fire,” Han muttered.
“But not saying it lets fans and tabloids fill in the blanks,” Seungmin pointed out. “And they’re already doing that.”
“We should take control,” Jeongin added. “Like they said. If we’re honest, maybe they’ll respect it.”
Minho, from his perch on the arm of the chair, tilted his head. “What if we start small? One of us goes live again. A short one. Calm. Casual. Mention her without making it a thing. Just enough to confirm she’s real, and we’re not hiding her.”
“And then?” Felix asked.
Chan paused. “Then… we build on it. A few more lives. Posts. Eventually maybe a short video or joint post where we explain the situation.”
Han smirked. “And by ‘situation’ you mean: hey STAY, surprise, we’re dating the same woman and it’s actually the healthiest relationship we’ve ever had.”
Jeongin coughed a laugh. “Honestly? That would be iconic.”
I looked around the room at all of them - tired, nervous, but united.
“I’m okay with whatever you decide,” I said softly. “I don’t want to cause problems for you. But… I also don’t want to be a secret forever.”
“You’re not a secret,” Chan said instantly. “You’re a miracle.”
Hyunjin nodded. “If this is the start of the world knowing you’re ours… then let’s do it right.”
The room settled into a thoughtful hush.
Chan ran both hands through his hair and sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing the rest of us. “Okay. So we’re doing this. We just need to figure out how to start the conversation.”
“I think it should be Hyunjin,” Jeongin said, glancing toward him. “He already accidentally cracked the door open.”
Hyunjin made a face. “I did more than crack it.”
Felix nodded. “Which is why it might make sense for you to own it. Keep the same tone you used before - calm, creative, soft-spoken. You don’t have to spell everything out.”
Minho tapped his fingers against his knee. “But you do have to be intentional. If we’re going vague, it still has to feel authentic.”
Han leaned forward, eyes sharp. “So, you start with an art live. Say something like ‘I’m working on portraits of people I love.’ Maybe include one of Emily’s pieces. Let it be obvious, but not inflammatory.”
Seungmin added, “And no sunglasses. That makes it look like you’re hiding something.”
Hyunjin groaned. “Fine. But if Kkami jumps into frame again, I swear I’m going to cry.”
“Maybe that’s okay,” I said, softly. “She’s part of the story. I don’t mind.”
He looked at me, warm and full of affection. “You sure?”
I nodded.
“Okay,” Hyunjin said, sitting up straighter. “Then I’ll do the first live. Just me. A quiet one. I’ll mention love. Maybe even say something like... ‘Love looks different than people expect, but it’s still real.’”
Felix made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle.
“We don’t have to give them everything right away,” Chan said, voice gentle now. “But we do need to give them something true.”
Han grinned. “We’re soft-launching a polyamorous goddess. The internet is going to lose its mind.”
Minho smirked. “Let them.”
There was a long pause. A collective breath.
Then Seungmin, quiet and sincere, said:
“If we’re doing this, we do it as a team. Nobody gets left behind.”
Everyone nodded.
And just like that, the plan began to form.

***

Hyunjin angled the phone just right, giving a clean view of his sketchpad, the soft mess of watercolors, and the sunlight spilling across his desk.
I was lying on Chan’s bed across the room, curled under his arm. We were both barefoot, still in sweats. His laptop was open behind us, completely forgotten.
“You ready?” I whispered.
Hyunjin didn’t answer right away. He took a deep breath, adjusted his oversized shirt, and nodded.
“I’ll keep him quiet,” I teased, thumbing toward Chan.
“That’s a lie and you know it,” Hyunjin muttered, biting back a smile as he tapped Go Live.
Almost instantly, hearts and comments poured across the screen.
“HYUNJIN HI I MISSED YOU”
“He’s so pretty I’m gonna faint”
“PAINTERJIN SUPREMACY”
“SKETCHBOOK TOUR PLEASE???”
Hyunjin gave a soft smile, brushing hair from his face.
“Hi, STAY. I missed you.”
Just his voice made my chest ache.
“I’m painting today,” he continued, flipping to a new page. “Working on some portraits… of people I love.”
A steady gasp flew through the comments.
Chan’s arm around me tightened, and I felt his smirk against my temple.
“You’re gonna break the app,” he whispered in my ear, warm breath on my skin.
I fought back a laugh. “Be quiet.”
“You first.”
Hyunjin shot us a warning look without ever turning the camera.
I pressed my lips together as Chan’s hand slid down to rest on my thigh.
Hyunjin kept sketching - slow, intentional lines. A curve of a cheekbone. A wisp of hair.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about love lately,” he said, voice quiet but sure. “About how it doesn’t always look the way people expect. About how... sometimes it finds you when you’re not even looking.”
Chan kissed my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to react.
Hyunjin’s ears turned bright red.
“WAIT WHAT”
“IS THIS A CONFESSION??”
“WHO IS HE TALKING ABOUT OMG”
“IS THIS ABOUT THE GIRL FROM THE OTHER LIVE??”
“I’M FINE I SWEAR I’M FINE”
“Sometimes,” he said, glancing off-camera, “you love someone so much it doesn’t fit inside words. So you paint it instead.”
The hallway outside creaked.
Someone whispered, “Did he just confess?!”
Someone else (Minho) hissed, “Shut up!”
Chan’s hand was under my shirt now, fingers tracing slow, innocent patterns across my back - except it didn’t feel innocent.
I tried not to move. Or breathe.
Hyunjin giggled suddenly and slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.
“WHY IS HE LAUGHING LIKE THAT STOP”
“WHO’S MAKING HIM SMILE LIKE THAT”
“I’M LOSING IT”
“HE’S SO IN LOVE IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY”
“I’m gonna wrap this up,” he said quickly, cheeks glowing. “Thank you for watching. I hope you’re having a beautiful day. And remember - love is love. However it shows up.”
He ended the live and immediately turned to glare at us.
“YOU,” he said, pointing at Chan, “are evil.”
“I was so quiet,” Chan said, blinking innocently.
“You were so handsy!”
Hyunjin groaned and dropped his head onto the desk while I burst into laughter.
Outside the door, the hallway erupted.
Seungmin shouted, “Hyunjin’s IN LOVE, everyone say congrats!!”
Han added, “That was better than cable.”
Jeongin wailed, “I CAN’T TAKE THIS SLOW-BURN POLY AU SHIT ANYMORE.”
And just like that, the mood lightened - the first step taken.
Hyunjin slammed his sketchbook shut with a groan, then launched himself backward off his chair with a dramatic sigh.
“You’re both menaces,” he mumbled, pointing one last accusatory finger at us.
Then - without warning - he leapt across the room like a feral ballerina and fly-jumped onto the bed.
“Hyunjin, Jesus -” I wheezed as he landed half on Chan and half on me.
Chan grunted. “You could’ve killed her!”
“I wanted to die anyway,” Hyunjin mumbled, dramatically flopping face-down on my chest. “You made me confess in front of three hundred thousand people while your hand was on her ass!”
Chan chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “You looked good doing it.”
I stroked Hyunjin’s hair as he groaned again, melting into me like a hot water bottle full of embarrassment.
Then -
BANG.
The door exploded open.
“GROUP HUG,” Jeongin shouted, barreling in at full speed.
Minho followed behind him, smirking as Han clapped mockingly. “Hyunjin’s in love, Hyunjin’s in loooooove -”
“WE’RE ALL IN LOVE,” Hyunjin yelled into my chest.
Felix slid dramatically into the room in his socks, yelling, “Did someone say soft launch?!” while Seungmin waltzed in sipping from a mug like it was popcorn.
Somehow, I ended up pinned under at least four of them.
Chan’s arm was still wrapped around me. Hyunjin was half-straddling my thigh. Jeongin had wedged himself between us and was trying to kiss my cheek. Han was trying to pet everyone and getting shoved for it.
I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe.
“Okay -” I gasped. “Okay! You win! Hyunjin did a good job! Get off of me before I suffocate on your combined beauty!”
Felix popped up beside me. “No promises.”
Minho leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I give it twenty-four hours before STAY figures out who you are.”
Seungmin nodded. “And another ten minutes before Jeongin starts posting thirst traps to distract them.”
“I do have a draft saved,” Jeongin admitted, grinning.
I groaned and buried my face in Chan’s shoulder. “I’m in hell.”
“You’re in love,” Chan corrected, kissing my temple.
“And we’re in this together,” Hyunjin added, softer now.
It was true.
We were a mess.
Loud, ridiculous, chaotic.
But we were ours.
“Okay, I have an idea,” Changbin said suddenly from the floor, where he’d been dramatically starfished in protest after being shoved off the bed.
Everyone looked at him.
“I’m starving.”
Groans of agreement echoed around the room.
Felix perked up immediately. “We should celebrate! Come on - let’s cook something together.”
Seungmin raised a brow. “We have food?”
Felix grinned. “We have enough to make it work.”
“That’s what you said last time,” Han muttered, “and we ended up eating toast with Nutella and a single pickle slice.”
“Delicacy,” Felix shot back. “Let’s go.”

In the kitchen - fifteen minutes later
Pots clanged. Oil sizzled. Someone turned the Bluetooth speaker on and music filtered through the room - a mellow beat that quickly got louder once Jeongin got his hands on the volume.
I stood barefoot near the stove, stirring a pan of noodles while Minho hovered at my side like a protective sous-chef.
“Too much soy sauce and I’m divorcing all of you,” he muttered.
“You’re not even married to us yet,” I shot back, smirking.
Minho leaned in and whispered, “Yet.”
My face burned.
Across the room, Felix and Seungmin were tag-teaming rice balls. Felix kept getting distracted - mostly by poking Seungmin’s side and trying to dodge his sharp elbows.
“You love me,” Felix sang.
“I tolerate you.”
“Same thing,” Felix winked.
Chan passed behind me and trailed a hand down my spine as he went. “Need help, angel?”
“I’m good,” I said, breath hitching.
“I’m sure you are,” he murmured, low and smug, before turning to help Hyunjin plate dumplings.
Han had claimed DJ duties and was dancing behind Jeongin while he made spicy chicken. Every few minutes, Han would spin and grind dramatically just to throw him off.
Jeongin, to his credit, didn’t spill a single drop of sauce.
“Focus,” Han teased.
“You’re the distraction,” Jeongin shot back, grinning.
I leaned against the counter, watching it all unfold - heat, motion, noise, family.
Then Hyunjin slid beside me, wiping his hands on a towel.
“So,” he said, voice low enough just for us, “what’s next?”
I glanced at him. “You mean… after the live?”
He nodded.
Chan overheard and drifted over, shoulder brushing mine. “I’ve been thinking about it too.”
“We could do a series,” Hyunjin offered. “Each of us going live over the next couple of weeks. Talking about love. Not naming names. But building a story.”
“Let STAY put the pieces together,” Chan agreed. “Until we’re ready to tell the whole truth.”
“What if we… don’t?” I asked softly. “Tell the whole truth, I mean. What if we just… live it? Be open. Stop hiding. But also not explain every detail to people who wouldn’t understand?”
They both paused.
Then Hyunjin smiled. “I like that.”
“Me too,” Chan said.
Felix called from the stove. “Group chat name idea: Poly Kitchen Cult.”
“I’m blocking you,” Seungmin deadpanned.
Han raised a spoon like a toast. “To soft launches, spicy noodles, and our extremely confusing future!”
Everyone shouted, “Cheers!”
And we dug in.
Plates scraped. Bowls emptied. Chopsticks clinked and clattered as we laughed through the last bites of dinner.
I sat squished between Hyunjin and Chan at the far end of the table. It should’ve been casual. Comfortable.
It was not.
Hyunjin leaned in, murmuring something about my hair, brushing a few strands behind my ear with delicate fingers - and then lingering.
Chan, on my other side, was being less subtle.
His hand was on my thigh.
And it was not still.
I choked on a bite of rice and grabbed my water.
“Are you okay?” Minho asked from across the table, suspicious.
“Mmhmm,” I squeaked.
Hyunjin’s lips twitched into a barely-contained smile.
Chan’s fingers slid higher.
I swallowed hard. “We should… help with cleanup.”
Han raised a brow. “You don’t even have a plate anymore.”
“I can still help!” I insisted, shooting to my feet so fast I nearly knocked my chair over.
Hyunjin stood too, smoothing his shirt.
Chan stretched like a cat and slowly rose behind us. “Actually,” he said, “I think we’re gonna head up.”
“To do what?” Jeongin asked, completely deadpan.
“Business,” Chan said.
“What kind of -”
“Grown-up business,” Hyunjin added, already backing toward the door.
Felix snorted. “Safe travels.”
Minho shook his head, muttering, “Disgusting.”
Han made gagging noises.
Seungmin just raised his mug and said, “Hydrate.”
Upstairs — Chan’s room
The door barely clicked shut behind us before Chan had me pressed against it, kissing me like he’d been starving.
Hyunjin kicked the door with his foot, locking it, then came up behind me, breath warm on my neck.
“You were so bad downstairs,” I gasped, pulling Chan’s shirt over his head.
“You loved it,” he grinned.
I didn’t argue.
Hyunjin’s hands slid around my waist. “You gonna let us take care of you tonight?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Good,” Chan said, lifting me easily. “Because I’m not letting you sleep until you’ve forgotten your own name.”
Hyunjin smirked. “We’ll help you remember. Over and over.”
Chan lifted me easily, cradling me against his chest as he kissed me deep - tongue sweeping into my mouth, teeth catching my lower lip. Behind us, Hyunjin peeled off his shirt, eyes already dark with want.
“Fuck,” Chan muttered, “I’ve been wanting this all day.”
“Then take it,” I breathed, clinging to his shoulders.
He laid me down on the bed like I was something precious, then immediately knelt over me, lips trailing from my mouth down to my chest. His tongue flicked over my nipple, teasing, before he sucked it into his mouth and groaned like he’d missed the taste.
Hyunjin joined us on the bed, kneeling on the other side. He cupped my face in his warm, delicate hands and kissed me - slow, deep, intoxicating. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I want you both.”
“Good,” Chan growled against my skin. “Because you’re getting all of us.”
My pants and underwear were gone in seconds - peeled off by Hyunjin while Chan held me down with kisses and wandering hands. I was bare and flushed beneath them, chest rising in shaky gasps as they looked at me like they hadn’t already had me a dozen times before.
“Gorgeous,” Hyunjin murmured.
“Always,” Chan agreed.
Hyunjin kissed down my stomach, eyes never leaving mine, while Chan leaned over to whisper in my ear, “You're still sore from last night, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Then we’ll go slow,” he promised. “We’ll make it good. We’ll make it last.”
Hyunjin settled between my thighs and licked a stripe through my folds, slow and reverent, like he’d been dreaming about this moment all day - which, knowing him, he probably had. I gasped, one hand flying to his hair, the other clutching the sheets.
Chan kissed along my jaw, murmuring softly while Hyunjin made me squirm, his tongue circling my clit in gentle, rhythmic strokes.
“Let go for us,” Chan whispered, brushing my hair back. “Let Hyunjin make you come.”
I was already there.
My thighs trembled as pleasure rippled through me - not violent, but hot and full, curling through my stomach and spreading everywhere at once.
Hyunjin pulled back, licking his lips. “I swear she tastes better every single time.”
Chan smirked. “That’s my girl.”
He tugged his sweats down and crawled between my legs. No condom. No hesitation. Just him, flushed and leaking and hard, lining up and pushing inside in one slow, perfect thrust.
The stretch made me moan, head falling back.
“You okay?” he asked, voice tight.
“Yes. God, yes.”
He started moving, hips rocking slow and deep, grinding against my sore, overstimulated body like he knew how to undo me with every stroke.
Hyunjin kissed me while I took Chan, his fingers tracing soft lines down my ribs, whispering in Korean - sweet things I could finally understand, and it only made the moment sweeter.
“She’s doing so well,” Chan panted, thrusts picking up just slightly.
Hyunjin smiled against my skin. “You are, baby. Taking him so good. Look at you.”
My second orgasm came fast - sudden and sharp, knocking the breath from my lungs.
Chan moaned loudly, his rhythm stuttering as he spilled inside me, thrusting all the way through it, deeper, like he needed to stay there.
When he pulled out, his cum slipped down my thighs - and Hyunjin’s eyes went dark.
“My turn,” he said, voice already wrecked.
He was naked in moments, crawling over me with a gentle hand sliding over my hip. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered.
“It’s not.”
He pushed in slow, bottoming out with a gasp.
This wasn’t fast, or frantic - this was Hyunjin worshipping me. The way he moved, the way he held me, the way his eyes never left mine as he rocked into me, hand stroking my face like he couldn’t believe I was real.
“Feel so good,” he whispered. “So warm. Mine. Ours.”
I wrapped around him, legs around his waist, arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer until there was no space left at all.
He came with a soft cry, whispering my name like a prayer as he spilled inside me, slow and deep.
When he finally stilled, he kissed me - once, twice, forever - then curled into me with a contented sigh.
Chan was already sliding in behind me, pulling us both into his arms.
We lay tangled like that - slick, spent, glowing.
And for a while, there was no pressure. No reveal. No chaos.
Just us.
Breathing together in the dark.

Chapter 22

I woke up to the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the golden haze of late morning light creeping through the slats of my blinds. The warmth of the sheets cocooned me, and for a moment, I let myself pretend I was just tired. Just sore from another late night wrapped between warm bodies and tangled limbs. Just hungry or thirsty or maybe still half-asleep.
But then I shifted.
And my body ached.
Not the good kind of ache - not the kind that made me smile and bite my lip and remember hands and mouths and all the ways I’d been cherished lately.
This was different.
My breasts were sore… tender in a way that made me wince when the fabric of my shirt brushed over them. My stomach felt unsettled. Not nauseous, exactly, just... off. And beneath it all, a weight sat heavy in my lower belly. Dull. Present. Wrong.
A nervous flutter tickled my ribs, crawling upward until it settled in my throat.
Still tangled in my sheets, I reached for my phone and pulled up my period tracker app. I didn’t even want to look. But I needed to.
4 days late.
The air around me shifted - suddenly too still, too sharp.
I blinked. Closed the app. Opened it again.
Still four days.
I sat upright so fast the room tilted. The sheets fell from my shoulders, and I pressed a hand to my lower stomach like I could will something into motion.
“No, no, no…”
I scrambled off the bed and practically ran to my nightstand. My pill case sat inside the drawer, pink and slim. I opened it, flipped through each tiny tab.
I hadn’t missed a single one.
Not one.
But the dread didn’t loosen its grip. If anything, it clamped down harder.
What if it failed? What if I’m the statistic?
And if I was...
My mind stuttered.
Who would the father be?
Chan?
Hyunjin?
Jeongin?
Minho?
Han?
Felix?
Seungmin?
Changbin?
I counted them off on shaking fingers like naming them out loud would bring clarity - like maybe there’d been a gap, a stretch of time that narrowed things down. But there wasn’t. Not really. Not with the way things had been.
Warm touches. Late nights. Bare skin. No barriers.
We’d all talked about it. Everyone knew I was on the pill. And it felt right. Natural. Intimate.
But now?
Now my brain was racing so fast I couldn’t breathe.
I gripped the edge of the dresser, grounding myself with the feel of solid wood beneath my fingertips. My knees felt like jelly. The ache in my chest bloomed wider, heavier.
If I am pregnant…
I couldn’t even finish the thought. I saw all their faces flash behind my eyelids - smiles, laughter, the way they looked at me with nothing but love.
And suddenly the image twisted to panic, pressure, and disappointment.
I’d ruin everything.
I had to get out of this room.
The hallway was quiet. Too quiet.
My footsteps were silent on the polished floor, but my heart was loud - slamming against my ribs like it wanted to break free and run ahead of me.
I rounded the corner into the kitchen and nearly sagged with relief when I saw him - Felix. Still in his pajamas, hoodie halfway off one shoulder, standing at the counter with two mugs of coffee in front of him. His hair was a sleepy mess, and he was singing softly under his breath, some barely recognizable pop song as he stirred in cream and sugar.
I stopped in the doorway, suddenly frozen.
How do you say I might be pregnant out loud?
How do you look at someone who could maybe be the father of your child and not completely unravel?
He turned as if sensing me there, a smile already on his lips. It faded almost immediately.
“Whoa,” he said, setting down the spoon. “Emily?”
My mouth opened. Closed.
I felt tears threaten, burning at the edges of my eyes.
Felix quickly rounded the island and cupped my face gently, like he already knew.
“I think…” I whispered. “I think I might be pregnant.”
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t gasp, or pull away, or ask me what the hell I was talking about. He just leaned in and pressed a soft, steady kiss to my forehead. Like I hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of the kitchen.
“Okay,” he said, voice low and even. “Let’s breathe first. Then we figure it out.”
I tried. I really tried.
But my body betrayed me - a sob tore from my throat, and I clung to him like he was the only solid thing in the world.
“I don’t even know whose it would be,” I gasped. “I’ve been with all of you, Felix. You. Chan. Hyunjin. Everyone. And I didn’t… I didn’t think -”
“Shhh, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, rocking me gently.
“I haven’t missed a single pill,” I said, as if that might undo it. “I checked. I haven’t missed anything. But I’m late, and I feel weird, and I’m so scared.”
“I know, love,” he said. “I know. But you’re not alone.”
I sagged into him, overwhelmed. “What if I ruin everything?”
Felix pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. His own were shining now - not from panic, but something gentler. Fiercer.
“You couldn’t ruin this even if you tried. You are everything.”
A fresh sob hit me, but this one came with a breath of relief. I felt like I was falling apart and being held together all at once.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He kissed my temple. “We’re gonna go get a test. Right now. You and me. And no matter what it says, we’ll figure it out.”
I nodded, gripping the fabric of his hoodie like a lifeline.
And then I whispered the quietest truth of all:
“I’m not ready.”
“You don’t have to be,” he said. “Not alone.”
We stayed like that - held together in the middle of the kitchen, barely breathing - until the soft scuff of footsteps pulled us both from the moment.
I turned my head just as Hyunjin appeared in the doorway, yawning, shirtless, his sweatpants low on his hips. His hair was sleep-tousled, black strands falling into his eyes. He froze when he saw us - me clinging to Felix like a lifeline, Felix’s arms wrapped tightly around me, his face buried in my hair.
“Hey…” Hyunjin’s voice dropped immediately, worry blooming across his face. “What’s wrong?”
Felix glanced at me like he was waiting for permission. I nodded, still clinging to the front of his hoodie.
Hyunjin crossed the room in a heartbeat. “Is she hurt?”
“No,” I rasped, finally pulling back from Felix just enough to breathe again. “I’m not… not hurt. Just scared.”
Hyunjin’s hand found my waist as he looked between us. “What happened?”
“I’m late,” I whispered, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. “My period. By four days.”
Hyunjin’s mouth opened, then closed. He blinked, then slowly nodded. “Oh.”
“I checked my pills,” I continued, tears slipping hot and silent down my cheeks. “I haven’t missed any. Not a single one. But I still feel off. And I don’t know what that means. I just…”
Hyunjin’s arms wrapped around me from the other side, sandwiching me gently between him and Felix.
“Okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay. We’ve got you.”
I tried to swallow the sob rising again. “I’m not ready.”
“You don’t have to be,” Hyunjin said, echoing Felix. “And we’re right here.”
I closed my eyes and leaned into both of them, my head against Hyunjin’s shoulder, my hand curled against Felix’s chest. Their hearts were beating steady. I tried to match my breaths to theirs.
After a quiet moment, Hyunjin brushed his fingers through my hair. “Do you want me to come with you? When you get the test?”
I pulled back to look at him. “I think I just need Felix right now.”
He nodded immediately, without a single flicker of offense. “Then Felix it is. I’ll be here when you get back.”
And he pressed the softest kiss to my forehead - right where Felix had kissed me earlier - like it was some unspoken vow.
I looked between them, heart cracking wide open, and somehow, for the first time that morning, I didn’t feel like I was drowning.
Just scared. But safe.

***

The fluorescent lights were too bright.
Too sterile. Too exposed.
I adjusted the oversized sunglasses on my face and pulled the hoodie tighter around me, the sleeves hiding my hands as I gripped the edge of the tiny shopping basket Felix was carrying.
We looked ridiculous.
Both of us in masks, sunglasses, hoodies - like we were trying to rob the place instead of quietly buy a pregnancy test.
Felix leaned over and whispered, “We look like we’re hiding from the FBI.”
I snorted, but it came out choked. “We are hiding. From STAY. And from my own feelings.”
He nudged me gently with his elbow. “Well, at least we’ll be unrecognizable in the security footage.”
The store was mostly empty - just an older man browsing vitamins and a young couple arguing in the snack aisle. We hovered awkwardly in front of the wall of pregnancy tests, and I froze again.
There were so many.
Boxes promising accuracy. Early results. Digital or analog. Double packs. Triple packs. Brands I’d never heard of.
“Which one do I even get?” I whispered.
“All of them?” Felix offered, only half-joking.
I stared, panic beginning to build again.
Felix stepped forward and grabbed a two-pack of digital tests and then another box of pink-capped early results. He tossed them into the basket like we were picking up candy and not potentially life-changing news.
“There,” he said, voice quiet but confident. “Two different brands. Multiple tests. We’ve got this covered.”
I nodded, heart in my throat.
The walk to the register felt eternal. The cashier didn’t say a word. Just scanned the tests, bagged them, and handed me the receipt like it was nothing. Like the next few hours of my life weren’t balancing on the edge of that plastic bag.
Back outside, the air was warm, humid. A late summer heat wrapped around us, heavy and sticky. I tried to breathe it in, let it ground me.
Felix held the bag in one hand, the other reaching for mine.
“You ready?” he asked gently.
“No,” I whispered. “But I think it’s time.”
And hand in hand, we started walking home.
The front door clicked shut behind us, and I barely made it three steps inside before I heard the whisper of footsteps.
Hyunjin appeared in the kitchen doorway first - hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck. His eyes locked on mine instantly.
Chan was right behind him, one hand gripping the back of a chair like he needed it to stay upright.
Both of them looked pale. Tight-jawed. Worried.
Hyunjin moved first, crossing the room in seconds.
“I told him,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. I just… I had to.”
“I know,” I whispered. “It’s okay.”
Chan’s eyes scanned my face, then dropped to the bag in Felix’s hand. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow.
“You got the test?” he asked, voice low and rough around the edges.
Felix nodded and handed it to me without a word.
I wrapped my hands around the plastic bag like it might ground me. “I haven’t taken it yet.”
Chan stepped closer, one hand coming to rest lightly on my back. “Do you want one of us to come with you?”
I looked at him… really looked - and saw the panic beneath the calm, the tremble behind his eyes. I thought about how steady he always tried to be for me. How he’d carry the whole damn world on his shoulders if it meant I didn’t have to.
But this… this was mine to carry.
“I think I need to do this alone,” I said, quietly. “But… can you wait outside the bathroom?”
Chan gave a solemn nod. “Of course.”
Hyunjin kissed the top of my head without a word, and Felix squeezed my hand.
I turned and walked slowly down the hall, the box in my hands suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds.
The soft click of the bathroom door closing echoed louder than it should have.
Felix stood with his back to the wall, arms crossed tight over his chest, eyes glued to the floor like he could will this moment to pass faster.
Hyunjin leaned in the opposite corner, arms loose at his sides, thumb anxiously tracing the hem of his hoodie sleeve. His jaw kept flexing like he was chewing through every possible outcome.
And Chan… Chan stood dead center, pacing slow and controlled in the small stretch of hallway. Every few steps, he glanced at the door, like he might hear something - a sob, a whisper, a scream.
But there was only silence.
“She’s strong,” Felix said quietly.
Chan stopped pacing. “I know.”
“She’s terrified,” Hyunjin added, voice barely audible.
Chan nodded. “I know that too.”
A beat passed. The silence stretched.
Then Felix whispered, “What if it’s mine?”
Chan looked at him sharply, but not with anger - just rawness. Worry. Reality settling in.
“It could be any one of us.” Hyunjin said softly. “There’s no way to know for sure.”
Felix pushed off the wall, arms dropping to his sides. “I’d be scared. But I’d be here. No matter what.”
“Same,” Hyunjin said, lifting his eyes to meet Chan’s.
Chan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter whose it is. If she’s pregnant… she’s not going through it alone. That’s all that matters.”
They all fell silent again.
Behind the door, they could just barely hear the rustle of movement - the sound of cardboard, of a wrapper being opened.
The moment was coming.
And none of them were ready.

***

The test sat on the edge of the sink.
I couldn’t look at it.
Not yet.
I sat on the cool tile, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure they could hear it in the hallway.
Two minutes.
That’s what the instructions said.
Just two minutes.
But every second stretched like it was being pulled apart at the seams. My thoughts spun in circles, wild and panicked.
If it was positive…
What would I do?
What would we do?
Would everything change?
I thought of Chan, the way he always tried to fix things before I even knew they were broken. Of Hyunjin’s trembling hands and how he kissed my forehead like a promise. Of Felix holding me that morning in the kitchen, whispering that I wouldn’t be alone.
And the others - Jeongin, Minho, Seungmin, Changbin, Han. All of them. Each one tangled in my heart in a different way.
What if it was any of them?
What if it didn’t matter?
I stared at the little white stick on the edge of the sink. My chest ached. My eyes burned.
I wasn’t ready.
But I had to know.
With shaking hands, I reached for it.
And the world tilted.
The door creaked open slowly.
Three heads turned immediately - like magnets pulled to a single force.
I stepped out, holding the test in one trembling hand, my other pressed tightly against my chest like it could somehow keep my heart from shattering through my ribs.
Hyunjin straightened up first, eyes wide, hopeful and terrified. Felix looked frozen, lips parted like he couldn’t even ask the question. Chan was the closest. He stepped forward, reaching out but stopping short of touching me.
I couldn’t speak.
So I shook my head.
Just once.
Tears welled in my eyes - not from sadness, not from relief - but from the unbearable weight of everything I’d held in. My shoulders collapsed forward, and suddenly I was in Chan’s arms.
Then Hyunjin’s.
Then Felix’s.
A tangle of limbs and breath and emotion in the middle of the hallway, all of us sinking into the reality of what wasn’t.
Negative.
The test was negative.
I didn’t know how to feel.
But I wasn’t alone.
The couch dipped beneath me as Chan settled behind me, one arm wrapping securely around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. His other hand gently brushed my hair away from my face, fingertips light and reverent.
I was still in his hoodie - swallowed by it, really - and the fabric smelled like him. Warm and comforting, a blend of soap and cedarwood and something deeper I couldn’t name. His scent, his presence, had always calmed me. But today it felt like a lifeline.
Felix and Hyunjin’s voices drifted softly from the kitchen - low murmurs and the occasional clatter of pans. The smell of eggs and toast was starting to fill the dorm, grounding me even more. But right here… this was where the rest of the world quieted.
“You okay?” Chan’s voice was low, just for me.
I nodded slowly. “Getting there.”
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “You don’t have to rush.”
We sat in silence for a long moment, his thumb stroking slow circles over my ribs. I could feel his heart beating against my back - a steady thump, like a quiet drum anchoring me in place.
Then he said, barely above a whisper, “I thought I’d be more relieved.”
I blinked, turning slightly to look up at him.
Chan’s eyes were soft, but serious - that rare mix of open vulnerability he only let a few people ever see. “But I wasn’t. Not really.”
I didn’t speak. I let him keep going.
“I think… if you had been pregnant…” He paused, swallowing hard. “And if you’d wanted to keep it… I would’ve been happy.”
My breath caught.
He looked away then, jaw tense. “I want to be a father someday. I really do. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll mess it up. That I’ll not know what to do. That I’ll put too much pressure on myself and ruin it before it even starts.”
I turned fully in his arms, cupping his face with both hands. His eyes met mine, wide and brimming with something raw.
“You wouldn’t ruin anything,” I whispered. “You’re already the best man I know. And if we ever do go down that road… you won’t be doing it alone. And you’d be the best Daddy in the world.”
He let out a shaky breath, and then leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine.
“I just love you so much,” he murmured. “Sometimes it scares me.”
“I know the feeling,” I whispered.
And in the quiet of that moment - heartbeats aligned, breath steady - it didn’t matter what the test said.
Because this was real. And we were in it together.
Chan and I got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen together, still holding hands.
The smell of toast and butter and scrambled eggs hit me like a hug. Felix was at the stove, humming to himself, while Hyunjin danced around behind him, pulling cups down from the cabinet and setting out plates like it was choreography they’d rehearsed.
“Hi, lovebirds,” Felix said, glancing over his shoulder. “Hungry?”
“A little,” I murmured, and he gave me a warm smile, eyes crinkling.
Chan tugged two stools out from the kitchen island and we sat, still close enough that our knees touched. He didn’t let go of my hand, and I didn’t want him to.
Hyunjin came over and pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head before sliding a mug of tea in front of me. “Chamomile,” he said. “Extra honey.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Little by little, the rest of the house began to stir.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, soft and slow, and then Jeongin shuffled into the kitchen in pajama pants and a t-shirt that definitely wasn’t his. He blinked blearily at all of us. “Why is it so bright?”
“Because it’s day, sunshine,” Felix teased.
Jeongin groaned and collapsed onto a stool beside me, resting his head on my shoulder without a word. A minute later, Minho entered, closely followed by Han, both of them yawning and stretching. Changbin walked sleepily in behind them, giving me a quick kiss before sitting at the table by the windows. Seungmin wandered in, somehow already fully dressed with earbuds around his neck and a newspaper tucked under one arm.
“Morning,” he said casually, and started making his coffee like this was the most normal morning in the world.
Maybe it was.
Maybe, after everything, this was our new version of normal.
And for the first time all morning, I let myself breathe fully - surrounded by warmth, by people who loved me, by a future still unfolding.
Even if everything had changed, we were still us.
And we were still here.

Chapter 23

The Wedding Day
I woke to soft light pouring in through my curtains, the kind that made everything feel a little dreamlike. My room was still and quiet, and for a moment I didn’t move - just let myself feel it.
The weight of the blankets.
The distant hum of the dorm waking up.
The sudden, fluttering realization:
Today was my wedding day.
Not just any wedding. Our wedding.
Me. Chan. Hyunjin. On a rooftop in Seoul.
I sat up slowly, every nerve humming. There was a small knot of nerves in my stomach, but it was wrapped in something much larger - joy. Surreal, ridiculous, heart-splitting joy.
A soft knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Come in,” I called, already knowing who it would be.
Felix peeked his head around the door with a beaming smile, followed by Chan’s sister, Hannah. Both were dressed in matching pastel loungewear, holding coffees and to-go bags.
“Breakfast delivery for the bride,” Felix said, striding in with a grin. “You didn’t think we were gonna let you starve today, did you?”
“Absolutely not,” Hannah added. “You’re ours until it’s time to walk down that aisle. Or, you know… the rooftop stairs.”
I laughed - breathless, overwhelmed, but somehow calm beneath it all.
Felix came to sit beside me on the bed while Hannah began laying everything out on my desk - iced coffee, bagels, fresh fruit, little pastries. I looked between the two of them and my eyes stung immediately.
“You’re gonna make me cry,” I warned.
Felix bumped my shoulder. “That’s ok. Just not after we get your makeup done.” He grinned.
Felix was already fluffing pillows and straightening things around the room like a proud mom who couldn’t sit still. Meanwhile, Hannah gently tugged open the curtains to let more natural light flood in.
“Alright, up you go,” she said, pointing toward the bathroom with a teasing smile. “Shower first. We’ve got about three hours before the ceremony and we are not going to be scrambling last minute.”
I obeyed without argument, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind me.
The water was hot and steamy, and I stood under the stream longer than I should have - letting it soak into every corner of me. Washing away the tension, the worry, the ache of yesterday’s fears. Every drop that slid down my skin felt like a tiny blessing. A moment of peace before something sacred.
By the time I stepped out, the mirror was fogged over and my hands were trembling just a little - not from fear, but from the magnitude of what today meant.
I toweled off and stepped back into my room wearing the soft satin robe Felix had laid out for me. He and Hannah had already transformed the space into a soft flurry of brushes, compacts, eyeshadow palettes, curling irons, and bobby pins.
“Sit,” Felix said, pulling the desk chair out like a throne. “We’ve got work to do.”
Hannah started on my hair while Felix handled makeup - both working in tandem, chatting softly, cracking jokes, occasionally pausing just to look at me with wide, shining eyes.
“You’re really doing this,” Felix said, dabbing highlighter along my cheekbone. “You’re really marrying them.”
“I know,” I whispered, blinking up at him. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“It’s the realest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, voice catching a little.
Hannah met my gaze in the mirror. “You look beautiful. And we haven’t even gotten to the dress yet.”
I swallowed, pressing my hands to my lap to keep from getting too emotional too soon. “It’s hanging in the closet,” I said softly. “Do you want to -?”
Felix was already on his feet. “On it.”
He brought it over like it was made of glass - holding it carefully, letting it drape across his arms like it was the most special thing in the world. And maybe it was.
The moment I slipped it on - the lilac undertones glowing in the sunlight, the soft shimmer across the bodice, the delicate lace that hugged my curves just right - everything stopped.
I turned to the mirror and covered my mouth with my hand.
“Oh,” I breathed.
Felix teared up first. “You’re… You’re so...”
Hannah wiped her eyes too. “They’re not gonna survive this. At all.”
I just stood there, heart pounding, chest full of light.
Today, I would walk up that rooftop staircase and give my heart to two men who had changed my life. Who had loved me so completely, so generously, that I never once had to question it.
And I wouldn’t walk up there alone.
Felix gently adjusted the hem of my dress as I stepped into the hallway, Hannah close behind. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion - like the universe was giving me time to absorb every second.
The dorm was unusually quiet. As if even the walls knew something amazing was about to happen.
We were halfway down the hall, my hand brushing against the smooth wood paneling for balance, when I looked up - and saw him.
Jeongin.
He stood at the foot of the stairs in a perfectly tailored black tux, the bowtie slightly crooked in the most Jeongin way imaginable. His hair was styled just a little softer than usual, and when he looked up and saw me, he froze.
For a long moment, no one said a word.
His eyes widened. “Oh, Noona…”
My breath caught.
He looked like he’d just seen the stars descend from the sky.
“You…” he tried again, then huffed a quiet, stunned laugh. “You look so beautiful.”
I laughed, even as my eyes burned. “You’re one to talk.”
He came forward slowly, like I might vanish if he moved too fast. Felix and Hannah stepped aside, giving us space.
When Jeongin reached me, he hesitated - then cupped my face with both hands, thumbs brushing the corners of my eyes.
“I’m not even the one marrying you today,” he whispered, “but I feel like my heart’s about to explode.”
My lips trembled. “You’re still mine.”
His smile was soft. “Always.”
Then, without another word, he kissed my forehead - lingering, warm, anchoring - before stepping aside and offering his arm like a proper gentleman.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded, slipping my hand into the crook of his arm.
And together, with Felix and Hannah just behind us, we made our way slowly up the staircase toward the rooftop - toward the beginning of forever.
The rooftop door opened with a quiet creak, and Jeongin held it wide, stepping just out of the way as I reached the top step.
I gasped.
The rooftop had been completely transformed. The city skyline stretched in every direction, softened now by golden-hour light. Twinkle lights had been strung overhead in wide, glowing arcs, dancing gently in the breeze. The floor had been swept clean and covered in a soft, pale runner that led all the way down the aisle - lined with wildflowers in soft whites, lilacs, and blush tones that mirrored the details of my dress.
Everything felt warm. Golden. Dreamlike.
There were about forty people seated in rows on either side of the aisle - friends and family, all dressed beautifully, turned in their seats as I stepped forward. Others stood along the edge of the rooftop, arms folded, hands held, faces full of anticipation.
In the very front row, I spotted Chan’s parents and his brother - his mother already dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, his father sitting tall and proud. Right next to them sat Hyunjin’s parents, both beaming, both holding hands. Behind them were close friends of all the boys - other idols, stylists, backup dancers, and people who had been with them through every chapter of their careers.
At the very back, a handful of JYP staff stood in black outfits, discrete but present - filming with handheld cameras, snapping photos with long lenses, careful not to disrupt the intimacy of the moment. This wasn’t just a personal vow. It was a historic one.
And there - at the front, beneath a wide wooden arch draped in lilac gauze and more flowers - stood them.
All eight of them.
Lined up, dressed in tailored tuxes that somehow managed to reflect their individual styles. The air seemed to shimmer around them.
Hyunjin and Chan stood in the center. Hyunjin’s hair had been pushed back from his face, soft waves brushing his ears. Chan’s jacket was slightly open, his signature necklace tucked just beneath the lapel. They both looked like they couldn’t breathe - eyes locked on me like I was the only thing that existed in the world.
To their left stood Felix, Minho, and Han. To their right, Jeongin - who had just released my arm and was now walking ahead to join the line - along with Seungmin and Changbin. Felix took his spot and turned to look at me, giving me the softest, most radiant smile I’d ever seen. Jeongin stood beside Seungmin, gaze still glassy with emotion.
I caught Hannah’s eye as she made her way to the front row and slid in beside her parents. She mouthed you’re perfect, and I almost lost it right there.
Everything was quiet. Waiting.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
And then, somewhere near the back, a violin began to play.
The first step was the hardest.
Not because of nerves - though they rippled under my skin like wind - but because it marked the beginning of a moment I never thought I’d get to have.
I walked slowly, each step careful, measured, my heels barely making a sound against the soft aisle runner. The violin swelled around me, a warm ache of strings and sky, and I felt every eye on me - but all I could see was them.
Chan.
Hyunjin.
Felix, Jeongin, Minho, Han, Changbin, Seungmin.
All of them.
Waiting at the end of the aisle like the sun waited for the moon.
I blinked, and my chest pulled tight.
Just a few months ago, I had been a wreck - a shadow of myself, drifting through airports and grief with nothing but a suitcase and a heart torn to pieces. I hadn’t even planned to stay in Seoul. I didn’t know how to stay. I didn’t know who I was without my father. Without the life I’d walked away from. Without the person I had tried so hard to be for someone who never deserved me.
And then…
Chan.
I passed the halfway mark, and a thousand memories surged at once.
Collapsing in front of the convenience store. His arms catching me like gravity had been waiting for him.
Waking up in the dorm, confused and surrounded by animals.
That first breakfast at the dorm. The way the boys had hovered, fed me, made me laugh when I couldn’t even breathe.
Hyunjin handing me strawberries with shy eyes and gentle fingers. Felix convincing me to help him make brownies like it could stitch me back together. Seungmin arguing about cereal. Han dancing in the hallway. Minho watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Jeongin, sweet and curious, a spark of mischief from the beginning.
And through it all - Chan and Hyunjin.
My sweet boys.
My home.
I had fallen in love with both of them so easily it felt like fate. Like the universe had cracked open just enough to let them find me. And instead of jealousy or fear… they chose to love me together.
They chose me.
And then all of them had.
A family. A home. A future. One I never would’ve believed in if it weren’t for the way they held me through every single storm.
My throat tightened.
I was almost there.
Chan’s hand was pressed tight to his chest, his knuckles white. Hyunjin looked like he was physically stopping himself from running down the aisle to meet me.
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
I had been a ghost when I arrived in this city.
And somehow, impossibly, eight men had breathed me back to life.
As I reached the front, I handed my bouquet to Hannah, who gave me a wink and squeezed my fingers. Then I turned to face them. My breath caught.
Chan. Hyunjin.
They both looked like a dream.
Chan’s eyes were already glassy, lips pressed together so tightly I could tell he was trying not to cry. Hyunjin looked like a painting, soft and perfect, the curve of his smile trembling as he took my hand in his.
They each held one of my hands now, and I realized I hadn’t exhaled since I stepped onto the rooftop.
A breeze curled between us, lifting the edges of my veil as the officiant stepped forward.
“Family. Friends. Loved ones.”
The crowd quieted.
“We are gathered here today under open skies and soft sun, to celebrate a love that has defied expectation, resisted fear, and blossomed into something truly extraordinary. Today, we honor the commitment between three souls—bound not by tradition alone, but by choice. By devotion. By the kind of love that makes room for more.”
My chest tightened.
“These three stand before you not to begin their story - but to mark what has already become true. That they are partners, companions, lovers, and family. That their love is both shelter and fire. That they have chosen each other in the light of day, through every trial and tenderness, and will continue to do so for the rest of their lives.”
Hyunjin’s thumb was moving in slow, calming circles against my palm.
The officiant paused, smiling gently before continuing.
“This is not a conventional union. But love - real love - rarely is. And those who have gathered here today, you are witnesses to something special. Something brave. Something that will stand.”
There wasn’t a single sound.
Just the wind.
Just breath.
Just hearts.
“And now,” the officiant said, turning toward us, “you may share your vows.”
Chan took a shaky breath and stepped forward.
Hyunjin turned to face me fully, his hand still warm in mine. His other hand reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper - already slightly crinkled at the edges. He stared at it for a second, then let out a soft laugh and shook his head.
“I was going to read this,” he whispered. “I wrote pages. Like, pages. But now, standing here in front of you… I don’t want to read anything.”
He folded the paper again and tucked it back into his jacket.
“I just want to speak to you. To your heart.”
My lips parted, breath shaky. The wind caught the edge of his hair.
“The moment I saw you, I felt it. Something undeniable, something impossible. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t real. That it was infatuation or fantasy or just the rush of meeting someone new.” He smiled, eyes brimming. “But it wasn’t. It was you.”
He took a breath.
“You… you cracked something open inside me. You made me want more. You made me brave enough to be more. You let me be messy and tender and dramatic and annoying, and you’ve never once made me feel like I had to shrink or change to be loved.”
My vision blurred.
“I want to grow old with you. I want to dance with you in the living room when we’re eighty and have bad knees. I want to paint your wrinkles and memorize the way your voice changes over the years. I want all of it. The whole, real, complicated life. With you. And Chan. And every single one of us.”
He reached up, brushing a tear from my cheek.
“I promise to choose you every day. To protect your heart like it's mine. Because, in every way that matters - it is.”
My chest felt like it was splintering open.
Hyunjin stepped back, and Chan took his place.
His hands were trembling.
“Okay,” he whispered, trying to laugh but failing. “Okay, I told myself I wasn’t gonna cry but - here we are.”
He blinked fast, then looked right at me.
“Emily…”
God, his voice. That low, gentle rasp already breaking.
“When I found you that night, outside the convenience store... I thought you were a ghost. I’d never seen someone look so lost and alive at the same time. I didn’t know what I was doing - I just knew I had to help. And then… I couldn’t stop.”
He glanced at Hyunjin for a second, smiling.
“You wrecked me, you know that? Every part of my life that felt predictable or ‘safe’ just got obliterated by your presence. You took all the broken places inside me and… and loved them. You didn’t fix me - you never tried to. But you made me feel worthy of being held.”
I couldn’t stop crying. Neither could he.
“I’ve lived a life surrounded by people, but it’s never felt full until you. You and Hyunjin and the guys, you are home. You’re the reason I breathe easier. The reason I wake up every day grateful I didn’t give up before this moment.”
He swallowed, voice breaking.
“I promise to hold you when you’re afraid. To step back when you need space. To always, always remind you of who the hell you are when you forget. You’re everything. And I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in this world.”
He stepped back, his thumb brushing my knuckles.
The officiant turned to me.
“Emily?”
I nodded, heart hammering, and stepped forward.
I hadn’t written anything down.
I couldn’t.
Because how do you capture this? This thunderstorm of love and safety and chaos and lust and belonging?
So I just looked at them. My men. The ones who shattered every defense I had with soft words and steady hands.
“I didn’t know you could fall in love with more than one person,” I whispered. “I didn’t know you could fall so hard you forget what loneliness feels like.”
I turned to Chan first.
“You found me on one of the worst nights of my life. And somehow, without knowing anything about me, you decided I was worth saving. And then… you kept saving me. Every day. You reminded me how to live.”
I turned to Hyunjin.
“You saw me when I couldn’t see myself. You opened your heart to me so fully, so fearlessly. You made me feel beautiful when I felt like a ghost. You brought color back into my life - literally.”
I looked between them.
“I don’t have anything rehearsed. I just know that I love you. That I trust you. That I want to wake up to your faces for the rest of my life. And I vow - on everything I have - to love you in every way I can. In the quiet, in the chaos, in the mess, in the beauty. You’re my soulmates. My family. My forever.”
Chan let out a choked breath.
Hyunjin was crying again.
I reached for both their hands and held them tight.
The officiant smiled and stepped forward again.
“And now, a few words from the rest of the group.”

💝 Minho
Minho steps forward, eyes soft but steady.
From his pocket, he pulls out a small, handmade leather-bound sketchbook.
“You once told me you didn’t know what your story would be. I want you to fill this. With anything. Everything. Whatever life becomes, I want to know all of it. I want to be in it.”
________________________________________
🎶 Han
Jisung is grinning but clearly fighting emotion.
He holds up a USB drive in a small velvet box.
“This has a song I wrote about you. Well…for you. It’s embarrassing, and you’re not allowed to play it in front of anyone else unless I’m drunk - but it’s yours. Forever.”
________________________________________
🧸 Jeongin
Jeongin comes forward with both hands behind his back. Then he reveals a small, plush fox keychain - a custom, handmade version of FoxI.Ny.
“I know you have the real one, but now you’ll always have a tiny one with you too. A reminder that someone is always waiting for you to come home.”
________________________________________
🖤 Seungmin
Seungmin walks up slowly, jaw tight like he’s holding back tears.
He places a baseball signed by every member in her hands.
“You’re part of this team now. Whether we’re winning or losing, you’re one of us. And I’d fight anybody who says otherwise.”
________________________________________
🍪 Felix
Felix hands her a small glass jar filled with cookies - but inside, the cookies are shaped like little hearts, stars, and initials.
“I made these last night. They’re not perfect, but I think that’s what makes them good. Like us. I love you, Em.”
________________________________________
🏋️ Changbin
Changbin’s hand is behind his back as he approaches. He reveals a custom silver bracelet engraved on the inside with the words:
“Stronger. Together.”
“You’re the strongest person I know. But if you ever need help carrying anything - anything at all - you’ve got us now.”
________________________________________
They line up beside Chan and Hyunjin, all of them forming a semi-circle around her. And in perfect unison:
“We pledge to love you. To protect you. To stand by your side.”
The officiant closes the book gently in their hands and looks up at us with a warm, tear-bright smile.
“Then, by the power vested in me, in front of these witnesses who hold your love sacred, I now pronounce you bound - not just in name, but in heart and soul, forevermore.”
A hush falls over the rooftop, sunlight warming my skin as I stare between Hyunjin and Chan - my soulmates, my loves, my future. Their hands tighten around mine. I can feel their trembling, even as they both smile like this is the happiest moment of their lives. Because it is. Because it’s mine too.
Then the officiant speaks again:
“If anyone here objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
I don't expect anything.
Why would I?
Everything is perfect. Everything is…
“I do.”
The words are clear, sharp - cutting through the air like a blade.
A chair scrapes loudly against the rooftop floor, and the crowd ripples with gasps and murmurs.
My heart plummets. I whip my head toward the sound, eyes scanning, stomach lurching -
And there he is.
Eric.
Wearing a black suit. No invitation. No right.
But he’s here.
Smiling.
Like he never shattered me.
Like he never left me gasping on the floor of my life, begging for breath.
Like he belongs here.
My throat goes dry.
The world narrows to him - standing there, smug and unbothered, like this is some sort of game.
A nightmare, dragged into the light.
Everything around me feels far away - Chan and Hyunjin’s hands still gripping mine, people turning, whispering, someone standing to block the camera.
And Eric’s voice again, echoing in my head:
“I do.”

Notes:

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