Several Strings at Once

by dilucreampuff

Summary:

“You crazy or something?” Semi’s voice cuts through the tightening air between her and Subong.

But Subong remains unfazed—a little too unfazed. “What? It’s simple. I distract Myunggi, you finally get your hands on Junhee. Practically a win-win.”

Semi’s gaze drifts. She’s caught in a dilemma: protect her dignity, or protect the girl who’s made something bloom in her chest—something she doesn’t quite have the words for.

She really needs to think this over.

Or; Subong and Semi strike a deal to chase after Myunggi and Junhee while conflict and chaos await them.

Chapter 1: It came rolling ever so slightly

It wasn’t supposed to feel this easy. Semi hadn’t planned to enjoy Junhee’s company, not like this.

It was nothing yet, and maybe that’s why it felt so precious. No promises, no secrets. Just a girl, a café, and the aching bloom of something Semi didn’t know how to name.

The rain had only just stopped, and the windows still wore the evidence—soft trails of water sliding down the glass, catching bits of light like they were holding onto moments too brief to matter.

Semi sat across from Junhee, pretending to look at the menu, but she wasn't really reading anything. Not the words, at least.

She had agreed to coffee like it was nothing, just a casual thing between two acquaintances. Friends, maybe, if she let herself stretch it. But now, with Junhee brushing damp hair behind her ear and offering a smile so gentle it made the air feel thinner, Semi wondered when this started to feel different.

She could still smell the rain in Junhee's sweater, could still see it clinging to her lashes. There was something so ordinary about the moment—coffee cups, condensation, soft background chatter but something in her chest ached like it meant more.

"I thought it'd pour longer," Junhee suddenly says, brushing a drop of rain off her sleeve. "Lucky us, huh?" The tone of her voice blends somewhere between playful and humorous.

Semi hummed and lightly nodded in agreement, though her eyes never left Junhee's face. "I don't mind the rain," she quipped, she lets her elbow rest on the table as she unconsciously rubs her bottom lip. "but yeah. Lucky."

Their table was tucked into a quiet corner, half-shadowed by a shelf of dusty paperbacks and succulents clinging to life.

Junhee stirred her drink idly, the tiny spoon clinking against ceramic in a slow rhythm.

“It’s nice here,” Junhee murmured, a half-smile carved in her lips. “I’ve passed by this place so many times, but never came in.”

Semi nods slowly, letting Junhee’s words sink in before an unmistakable smile appears on her face. “If you want,” She begins, “we could stop by here more often.” she suggests, her tone dripping with sincerity.

Junhee blinked, eyes widened with curiosity, her lips fell to a small line—all of those things Semi thinks are cute. “You mean… the two of us?”

Semi pretended to sip on her coffee, still grinning ear to ear. “Only if you want to, of course.” She adds.

Junhee smiled again, a bit more genuine this time. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.” She says cheekily, eyes squinting as her smile grew wide.

“Plus, my boyfriend isn’t always around, so I don’t think it’ll hurt if I go out of the house once in a while.”

Semi stilled for a split second.

She blinked once, then twice, brows lifted in faux innocent curiosity. A reluctant smile crept on her face. “Boyfriend? You never told me you were seeing someone.” She tries to keep the atmosphere between them steady, but there’s a tinge of jealousy in her tone.

Junhee let out a small hum of surprise, “Oh… I didn’t?” blinking like she’s only now realizing. “Yeah, his name’s Myunggi.”

 

 

“What’s with that face?”

Subong’s voice caught Myunggi out of his trance, making him to look up from his cup with his nose wrinkled. “Too bitter,” He muttered.

Subong couldn’t help but laugh at Myunggi’s comment and his crooked expression. He leaned forward over the table, “You’re more bitterer than the coffee, though.” he quips, there’s an obvious grin on his face.

Myunggi rolled his eyes, but he didn’t pull away when Subong’s foot bumped his under the table.

This wasn't a date. Not technically. But Subong was good at slipping under the radar—blurring lines, softening Myunggi's defenses with harmless smiles and harmless touches.

He watched the way Myunggi's fingers drummed against the paper cup, the way his gaze kept flicking to his phone. Subong was so quick to notice, “Junhee?” he asks while his palm rested on his jaw.

Myunggi didn’t respond immediately. “I told her I’ll be out running errands before I left.” His eyes still stealing a few glances at his phone.

Subong softly smiled at his confirmation. “Then what’re you so worried about?” He teases. His foot poked Myunggi’s lightly.

Myunggi’s lips formed a thin line. It isn’t like this is the first time he goes out with Subong, he’s aware of it. Lying to Junhee had stopped hurting after a few stolen dates back, so what is there to lose?

“Nothing, just… in case if she ever texts me to get her some sweet potatoes.” Myunggi said, he knows how Junhee gets when it comes to sweet potatoes.

Subong hummed in acknowledgment, letting out a content sigh as he takes a sip from his drink. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

 

 

Night soon started to roll in, the streets still glistened, catching the dull orange spill of streetlights. Junhee’s apartment is just a few blocks away from the café they dined at earlier, and Semi insisted on walking her home.

“You didn’t have to,” Junhee said, her voice drips with warmth and uncertainty.

But Semi just shrugged nonchalantly. She was already matching Junhee’s pace anyway. “It’s dark. I wouldn’t want you to walk home alone, especially if something happens.”

That made Junhee smile a little. Not the polite kind, but the kind she didn't have to think about.

They didn't talk much after that, just the sound of cars passing, shoes scuffing on uneven pavement. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it was easier than Junhee expected.

Junhee feels a smile appearing on her face, she kept her gaze ahead but her head lowered. “It’s been a while since someone walk me home.”

Semi caught the words too late to pretend she hadn’t heard them. “Maybe I should walk you home everyday, then?” She teased.

Junhee let out a soft laugh, hand clutching her handbag that slung over her shoulder. “Maybe I’d like that.” She retorts. A slight echo of Semi’s teasing, and suddenly the atmosphere feels lighter.

Semi watched the way her smile lingered, a little longer than before, and it made her heart do something annoying.

But then, Junhee’s phone buzzed. She paused mid-step to reach her phone from her bag, and when she saw who’s calling her, her brows furrow.

“Who is it?” Semi asked. Junhee took a brief glance at Semi, “It’s Myunggi.” she said, her tone hesitant.

She turned slightly away when she picked up the call, pressing the phone close to her ear.

“Junhee.” Myunggi’s voice was low, and assumably exhausted. “Where have you been? Your location’s off again, don’t tell me you have your phone silenced.”

Junhee’s stomach dropped, eyes darting and her lips trembled as she couldn’t get the words out. She takes another glance at Semi over her shoulder, eyes briefly widen.

“I—I was just out, with a friend. I was so busy I forget to turn it back on.” She started walking faster, her voice tight with nerves. “I’m already heading back. I’m right outside.”

“Outside where? I don’t see you.” Myunggi hinted that he’s also outside, assumably already waiting for Junhee.

“Our apartment.”

Then, there was a pause, before Myunggi spoke again. “We’ll talk when you arrive.” Click. The call ended.

Junhee stuffed her phone into her bag, her pace quickening. "Sorry. I—I should get going. It's kinda late anyway."

Semi blinked, watching the shift happen in real time, like a window slamming shut after finally being cracked open.

"You okay?" She asked gently.

Junhee didn't answer at first. Just offered a strained smile and nodded.

Junhee jogged just in front of the entrance of the lobby and that’s when she saw Myunggi, who has a concern look on his face.

“Junhee. There you are.”

Semi stood there, just a few distance away from Junhee when she greets Myunggi. She examined him, sensing something dishonest about Junhee’s boyfriend—a feeling she just can’t shake off.

It wasn’t long until Junhee waved goodbye to Semi, “Okay, bye, Semi. Thank you for today.” the way she said it was too quick, like she’s in trouble.

Semi raised up her hand to Junhee, signaling a goodbye.

Soon after that, Myunggi rushed her inside the building. And even if it was brief, Semi caught Myunggi’s glare over his shoulder before heading in.

Semi’s hand lingered in the air before she lazily retrieves her hand back into the pocket of her jacket. She waited until both Junhee and Myunggi were out of sight, leaving her with her thoughts.

One thing stayed in her mind: She does not like Junhee’s boyfriend.

 

 

Junhee shuts the door behind her with a click, her breath still uneven. She tries to look composed, brushing the hair out of her face, but her hands are slightly trembling.

Myunggi doesn't look at her right away. He's at the kitchen counter, phone in hand, screen still glowing. The silence between them settles like dust.

“Where were you?” His voice is low, and too calm. That kind of calm that hides something colder.

Junhee swallows the lump in her throat. “I already told you. I was out with a friend.”

Myunggi let out a sigh, barely audible, “That didn’t explain why you had your location off.” he finally looks at Junhee, his brows furrowed. “And you didn’t even bother telling me you were out.”

Junhee hesitated, then takes off her shoes like it’s nothing. “I didn’t think I needed to explain every second of my day.”

“You usually don’t hide it.” Myunggi pushes his phone down on the counter. “You were with Semi. One of Subong’s friends.”

Junhee didn’t think Myunggi would recognize her, which was unmistakably odd to her considering she mentioned Semi before.

“Yeah. I was.” Junhee responded, her tone blunt. “We’ve been talking for a while. She wanted to meet, and we did.”

Myunggi tilts his head slightly. "You didn't mention her before."

Junhee’s brows furrowed. “You never asked. You’re always out.”

Silence settles in—tight, deafening and oberall uncomfortable.

"Junhee," Myunggi starts, stepping a little closer. "You shouldn't be hanging around people like her."

Junhee couldn’t help but scoff at his words, an expression that reads genuine hurt on her face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

There was silence again, Myunggi darts his eyes on Junhee’s face. "She's from Subong's circle."

Junhee’s lips turned into a soft frown. “So? She seemed like a nice person enough—”

Myunggi was so quick to cut off what she’s saying, “None of Subong’s friends are nice, Junhee.” he snapped. “You have to realize that.”

Her mouth opens, but she stops herself. She wants to ask him how he knows, wants to question what makes him the expert, but something in his expression makes her pull back.

So instead, she just nods, barely. "Okay." But the silence that follows is louder than anything she could've said.

And Myunggi’s expression finally softened before he lets out a relieved sigh.

 

 

 

The lights are off. The fan spins lazily above, creaking every few seconds like it's trying to speak. Semi lies on her back, her face lit only by the bluish glow of her phone screen. Outside the window, the world is quiet. Even the rain from earlier seems to have retreated into the soil.

Junhee's name is still at the top of her screen.

“thanks again for today, it was nice :)”

Semi doesn't reply. She's been staring at that message for nearly ten minutes.

It was nice. Too nice. The kind of nice that lingers in your chest longer than you want it to. The kind that makes you afraid of what you're starting to feel.

She swipes out of Junhee's message and opens her group chat with Subong and the others. Her fingers hover over the keyboard, then type.

semi: you guys know junhee’s bf, myunggi?

She pauses. Watches the dots blink in and out. No one replies. She continues.

semi: is it just me or does he gives off bad vibes

She locks her phone, then unlocks it again, she can't sit still. Then suddenly, somebody responded—it’s Namgyu.

nervoustweaker: lmao yeah definitely not just you

nervoustweaker: bad vibes in terms of how he acts whenever junhee is mentioned

Semi mentally agrees. Then, it isn’t just the two of them are online—Subong started typing.

thanos: loll yeah. always so damn possessive

The conversation with Myunggi replays in her head—his voice sharp, possessive, almost panicked. The way Junhee's eyes flickered with guilt, her voice trembling, the way she rushed out after his call.

Semi chews her bottom lip, hard. Her fingers fly again.

semi: idk for some reason, he doesn’t even seem to treat junhee right

semi: she deserves someone better ngl

After that message was sent, Namgyu starts typing again.

nervoustweaker: like who? lol

Semi stares at Namgyu’s message, her fingers hovered over the keyboard, wanting to type out ‘like me’ but her fingers didn’t moved, as if she’s hesitating to let them know about her feelings for Junhee.

thanos: wait. srsly?

A few seconds pass.

thanos: let’s meet up tmr, afternoon. i have an idea

thanos: bring a pen and a paper as well maybe

Semi stares at his message for a while. An idea.

Whatever Subong's cooking up, it's never boring. It's probably petty. Definitely reckless.

And maybe—just maybe—it's the kind of reckless Semi needs right now.

She sends a ‘Noted’ sticker before exhaling slowly, placing the phone on her chest and closing her eyes.

She doesn't know where this is going. But the moment Subong said “I have an idea”, something inside her started to move.

Soon after that whole ordeal, Semi’s eyes began to feel heavy and in the quiet before sleep, the threads begin to tangle as she slowly drifted off into sleep.

 

 

Notes:

thank you for reaching this far if you have!

ive had this idea lingering in my mind for QUITE a while now,,.., though i must warn first that i might not update consistently due to school and other stuff..,..

but!! i’d be happy to hear your thoughts on this so far!

kudos & comments are much appreciated! ^~^

Chapter 2: A few persuasions, and you’re done for

The next day arrives, the café wasn't crowded, but it was bright, almost too bright.

Semi could barely get any shuteye last night, her mind still boggling about Myunggi and his controlling tendencies over Junhee. She quickly resisted before the memory gives her a migraine.

She blinked hard as she sank into the seat, her iced drink already sweating on the table. Subong is late.

Speaking of the devil, Semi sees Subong walked through the main entrance. Walking up to her table before taking a seat across from her.

“Subong. You’re late.” Semi deadpanned. She had been waiting there for almost half an hour—half an hour past the designated time for them to meet up. “What took you so long?”

Subong has an unapologetic look on his face, “Sorry, man. I stopped by at Namsu’s earlier.” he scratched his temple as a grin appears on his face, the shit-eating kind. “He thought he was also invited to this little meeting.”

By hearing Subong’s excuse, it should make sense since both he and Semi planned the meet up with vague instructions, barely mentioning who’s invited. Semi should’ve known, but something didn’t seem to click.

Her head moved narrowly, titling slightly. “But, you were the one who stopped by at his place.” Her eyes squinting. Not quite getting how Namgyu thought he was invited when Subong was the one who went to his place.

“…Are you sure you were there to tell him that—”

Subong waved his hand to stop Semi from asking any further questions. “That’s not what we’re here for.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Semi nodded her head, the tone of her voice drips with sarcasm. “I’m now also aware you have poor time managing skills.”

Subong let out a dry chuckle. He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on the table, the playful air dropping just slightly.

“Anyway,” He begins, voice casual. “about last night. You talked about how Junhee deserves someone better. What was that all about?”

The smile carved in Semi’s lips slowly disappears, the tension in her shoulders flickering into view. Her gaze fell to the table, lips pressing together as if debating whether or not to speak.

“Well, like I said in the group chat,” Semi muttered. “Myunggi, he… I don’t know. Something about the way he treats Junhee just doesn’t sit right with me.”

Subong watched her carefully, before something suddenly clicked. “Wait… don’t tell me you have something for Myunggi’s girlfriend.”

His eyes caught Semi’s—just for a moment. She’s hesitant.

“You do, don’t you?”

Semi didn't speak. Her gaze lowered back to the table, hands nervously wringing the hem of her sleeve. The question had settled heavy between them, like she hadn't expected it to resurface.

And somehow, her silence and the way she nibbles on her lower lip while tucking her arms together like she’s trying to shrink are enough to answer Subong’s question.

He let out a scoff, the kind that feigns disbelief. “So, you do.”

Subong’s self-answered response hanged in the air before Semi lets out a humorless laugh, looking down at her drink. "Yeah. I guess I do. I didn't mean for it to happen, but… it just did." Her lips are curled upwards, but her expression still remains unreadable.

Subong stared at her for a beat longer than necessary. His fingers tapped slowly against the table, eyes lidded like he was watching a plan unfold in real time.

And then, with the gentlest smile imaginable, he said, "Interesting… because l've had my eyes on Myunggi." his voice low, and oddly intimate.

Semi blinked once, then twice. “…What?”

Subong tilted his head, awfully calm and relaxed like he’d just commented on the weather. "What? Don't give me that look. You're not the only one falling for someone you shouldn't."

“You like Myunggi?” She echoed, her voice rising with disbelief. “Really?” Her eyes squinted as she goes on.

Unexpectedly, a laugh slipped from Subong’s throat, it came out short and mischievous. “Damn, Semi. You’re acting like I just confessed to murder.”

He leaned back against the vinyl seat. “I’ve liked him for a while. You’re just the first person I’ve told.”

Semi gawked, still trying to process what Subong had just told her. And for a moment, her tongue failed her.

Subong, her overconfident, mouthy and out of pocket friend—liked Myunggi? The very same guy who thinks he’s smart-mouthed and always in the right?

“And here I thought you couldn’t even stand him half the time,” She mumbled out as she hides her face with an unimpressed look.

Subong grinned, all teeth and all mischief. “It’s complicated. But so is yours with Junhee, right?”

That's when Subong leaned forward, arms resting casually on the table, but his eyes were anything but casual. "So. What if I told you I could help you get closer to Junhee?"

She blinked, then let out a short laugh. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m serious.” There was something careful in his tone now—measured, and calculated.

“You like her. I like Myunggi. They’re dating, and that’s an inconvenience.” Subong went on. “But what if it didn’t have to be?”

Semi looked at Subong, her eyes wide and her mouth left agape. After a beat or two, she finally speaks out. “You crazy or something?”

"And what if I am?” He nudged her foot lightly under the table, like a quiet signal between co-conspirators. “Just think about it. I’ll keep Myunggi distracted, and Junhee’s would be within your reach.”

Semi stayed quiet, her eyes lay elsewhere as she’s deep in her thoughts. She pressed her lips together, blinking a few times. “…I don’t know. Give me some time to think about this.”

Subong was almost taken aback, but kept his cool. It’s too soon to push. He knows Semi is too good for persuasions.

“It’s not my place to force you to do this, I know.” Subong is a slick liar—he wants this deal to be accepted. To finally make Myunggi his. To finally get Junhee out of the picture. “But, if you ever change your mind,”

Subong brushed his palms against his lap, “just roger me.” he gestures a cellphone call to Semi before standing up without another word. No explanation, no glance back.

"Wait, where are you—”

But he was already gone.

Semi blinked. Leaving her space to think all of this through.

 

---

 

A few days had passed since the meetup between Subong and Semi—where deals were teased, motives tangled, and truths began to slip through polished smiles.

But none of that showed when Junhee stepped into Semi's place, her expression soft and relaxed, almost relieved to be somewhere quieter than her own apartment.

"This is nice," Junhee said, slipping off her shoes and placing her bag down by the door. "Smells like coffee in here. Or, vanilla?"

Semi smiled faintly from the kitchen, where she was pouring hot water over two tea bags. "It's the candle. And maybe the cookies I was trying not to burn."

Junhee chuckled and followed the scent, sinking into the couch and tucking her knees up. "I needed this. Myunggi's been... sort of glued to his work. I think I've eaten dinner alone more this week than I have with him."

"Then I'm glad you came," Semi replied as she brought over the mugs and sat beside her. "You need someone who actually looks at you when you talk."

Junhee laughed lightly, but the compliment struck deeper than she let on. She looked down into her tea, watching the color swirl. "You're a little too good at saying the right things."

Semi raised a brow. "Would it be awful if I told you I meant it?"

They both smiled, but there was something in the air now—something warm, and barely hesitant.

They moved on to music, then to stories-Junhee sprawled across the couch, giggling over dumb tales back from high school, and Semi listening more than she spoke, her cheek propped on one hand.

Somewhere between the second cup of tea and Semi pulling out an old board game they never actually played, Junhee finally exhaled.

“You know,” She starts, “I think I forgot how nice it feels to hang out with someone and not feel… tense all the time.” she says, faking a smile.

Semi tilted her head. "You feel tense with Myunggi?"

Junhee hesitated, then shrugged.

"Sometimes. He's... he just gets weird when I go out too much, or talk to certain people. I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking it."

“Not to mention how I had to ask him twice before coming over to your place.” She adds.

Semi didn’t comment right away. But her fingers fidgeted slightly with the mug’s handle.

 

 

Myunggi opened the door with visible hesitation, but Subong breezed in like he belonged there. A bag of takeout in one hand, a lopsided smile on his face.

"You didn't text me all day," Subong pouted, dropping the bag on the kitchen counter. "Did you miss me at all?"

Myunggi rubbed the back of his neck. "I've been busy."

"You're always busy," Subong said, a mock frown twisting into something more genuine.

He stepped closer, gaze flicking down to Myunggi's lips before looking back up. "I missed you."

Myunggi didn't respond right away. But he didn't pull back either when Subong brushed a hand against his.

"Don't think too hard," Subong murmured. "Just let me stay a while."

 

 

The silence lingered a little too long than it should, that’s when Semi tries to brighten the atmosphere. "Anyway, there’s this bar just nearby. Cozy place, and really good music.“

“I was thinking if you’re free this Saturday, and maybe have a girl’s night?”

Junhee blinked, caught off guard. "This Saturday?"

"Unless you've got something better planned," Semi teased.

“I’d really wanna invite one of my friends, too. But Hyunju-unnie is out on a vacation in Thailand. So…” Junhee replied, brushing her hair behind her ear.

Semi thinks for a moment. Then, with a smile, she shrugs, “So just the two of us, then.”

Junhee raised her brow, eyes narrowing playfully. "So like… a date?"

Semi leaned back, humming as she pouts childishly. "If you want it to be."

Junhee laughed, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush, heating up overtime. “Guess I better look cute, then."

“You always do,” Semi reached for a cookie and popped it in her mouth to hide her own growing smirk.

And again, that soft, charged stillness. A moment neither of them were fully brave enough to name—but neither of them moved to break it either.

It wasn’t long until Junhee reached for her phone, opting to go to her chats. “Since we’re going out this Saturday, I can inform Myunggi about it. The earlier I tell him, the more likely he is to let me.” There’s a smile on her face, like asking for permission to go out seems like a completely normal thing.

Semi stiffened at Junhee’s sudden confirmation—just slightly. Still feeling something isn’t right: Myunggi is holding Junhee back, and it seems like she needs to do something about it.

 

 

The lighting in the apartment was low, quiet hum of the AC filling the background.

Myunggi's shirt was half-undone, his hand resting on Subong’s chest. They were tangled from moments earlier, lips clashed against each other’s and air thick between them—impatient and desperate.

Myunggi's hands found their way beneath the hem of Subong's shirt, palms dragging up smooth skin, like he didn't want to think. Like he didn't want to feel anything but this.

Subong ground down against him, slow and heavy, making Myunggi's head fall back with a sharp exhale.

“You missed me this much, huh?” Subong whispered against his lips, breathing ragged.

Myunggi didn't answer—couldn't, not with the way Subong kissed him again, rougher now. Their teeth clashed slightly, hands everywhere, the kind of kiss that burned and tasted like guilt.

And then—ping.

A sharp chime cut through the heat, which made Myunggi froze briefly.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his phone light up on the coffee table.

Junhee.

Her name on the lockscreen stopped everything.

"Wait, Subong, I need to—" He started, trying to pull away, already reaching for his phone.

Before Myunggi could, Subong’s hand shot out, grabbing him by his wrist.

“Don’t,” Subong muttered, his grip firm on Myunggi’s wrist, breath warm against his lips. “It’s probably nothing.”

Myunggi breathed out, eyes half-lidded. “It’s Junhee.”

“So?” Subong kissed him again, slower this time, deliberately dragging it out. “You’re forgetting who’s here with you right now.” He leaned in, brushing their lips again, whispering between kisses.

Myunggi shuddered, shame washing over him but this feels too good to withdraw now. Junhee doesn’t need to know.

Still, somehow, someway, he let Subong kiss him again. Every kiss tastes like guilt, yet enticing.

So in the end, he didn’t check the message.

 

 

Evening has rolled around, Junhee swayed slightly in the doorway, hand resting on the frame. “Thanks for… you know, for having me.”

Semi smiled at her like it was nothing. “Anytime.”

When Junhee stepped further from the door, she said goodbye with a wave, the corners of her mouth tilting in timid warmth. “Bye, Semi.”

Semi returned the wave, her smile as soft as the one she received. “Bye.”

When the door was clicked shut, the apartment seemed to exhale into coldness.

Semi eased into the couch, a sigh slipping out as she reached out for her phone, subconsciously going to her chats, thumbs hesitating for a fraction of a second before moving.

semi: i changed my mind.

She paused, watching the typing bar blink, then added:

semi: you told me to ‘roger you’ if i ever did, right?

The reply to her message was sent almost instantly, like he’d been waiting.

thanos: knew you would give in.

Semi could almost hear the annoying satisfaction in his tone, even through the screen.

thanos: you remember the plan. you keep junhee close, i keep myunggi busy

Semi stared at his message for a moment, before her fingers come flying.

semi: we’re both having a girl’s night this saturday

semi: so, make sure you keep myunggi busy

She didn’t think twice about sending the message, her anticipation clear.

 

A few blocks away, Subong was already slipping on his jacket, the faint warmth of Myunggi’s apartment still clinging to him. He grinned down at the phone in his hand, a slow, unhurried curl of his mouth.

thanos: oh i’ll keep him real busy alright. i’m a man of my words

Semi’s reply came instantly.

semi: you’d better be

Seemingly, Subong’s grin widened at Semi’s reply.

He tucked the phone away, stepping into the night like someone who'd just been handed the last piece of a puzzle.

By the time he got onto the elevator, his expression was unreadable again.

The elevator descended in silence, the faint hum filling the air. His reflection in the mirrored wall was almost expressionless—almost. In his eyes, there was the smallest glint, a flicker of satisfaction.

Soon enough, Myunggi would be his. No more worrying over a girl. No more quiet hesitancy. Just his.

 

 

Notes:

thank you for reaching this far if you have!

this fic is all i can think of when i’m offline and i’ve been doing all my best to work on this fic.
there’s a better chance for me to update during the weekends. if i’m fortunate enough i will try to update during the weekdays (due to tight schedule, and lack of energy… TT)

any thoughts on this chapter so far? kudos & comments are much appreciated!❤️

Chapter 3: Where confessions blur into pleasure

Summary:

“I don’t think I can pretend anymore.” Junhee quietly admits.

Semi’s breath hitched, eyes darkening as she leans in closer. “Then don’t.”

Saturday had finally arrived, bringing with it the restless hum of the city at night.

Junhee spotted Semi first, leaning casually against lamppost just outside the bar, her phone in one hand a lazy smile curling her lips. The faint hum of the neon sigh above bathed her in a pale pink light, making her appear warmer than the night air.

“You’re early,” Junhee said as she approached, the pavement still slick from an early drizzle. Her boots clicked faintly against it.

Semi slipped her phone into her pocket, “I don’t like keeping people waiting,” she replied, mentally noting how unalike she is compared to Subong and the way he manages his time.

She briefly glances at Junhee’s outfit—not in a critical manner, but with the kind of slow sweep that made Junhee suddenly aware of the curve of her collarbone.

From inside the bar, muffled laughter spilled out each time someone opened the door, along with the low thump of bass. A couple smoking nearby flicked their ash into the gutter; the faint scent drifted over.

Semi tilted her head toward the entrance. “So, what's your poison? Beer? Soju? Something that could knock you over in one sip?”

Junhee laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'm not that easy to take down."

“I guess we'll see,” Semi said, already moving toward the door. She didn't take Junhee's hand, but her pace was slow enough that Junhee fell naturally into step beside her.

The moment they stepped inside, the warmth hit—and so did the noise. The bassline vibrated faintly through the floor, chatter rolling over them like a tide. Dim amber bulbs glowed overhead, softened by shadows, while the bar counter bathed in strips of teal light drew the eye immediately.

Semi leaned in, close enough that Junhee caught a hint of citrus from her perfume. “There's a table in the corner,” She murmured, then guided her with the lightest touch at the small of her back.

Junhee slid into the seat across from her, taking in the crowd—couples pressed together over cocktails, a group of friends clinking beer glasses, someone at the counter laughing too loudly at the bartender's joke.

Semi waved down the bartender with a flick of her fingers, "We’ll take a bottle of soju, and an order of samgyeopsal, please," she said easily. Junhee raised a brow, turning her head to Semi. “Sharing a bottle, together?”

Semi smirked as she steals a glance at her from the corner of her eyes. “Just wanna see how you’d last.” She challenges, the tone of her voice drips with tease.

Junhee huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. “That’ll depend. Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

The bartender set the drinks down a few minutes later, condensation already forming on the glasses. Semi lifted hers in a toast, eyes never leaving Junhee's. “To a night without thinking too hard about anything.”

Junhee clinked her glass against hers, the sound small but sharp over the murmur of the bar. “I can drink to that.”

 

A few rounds of pork belly later, the bottle of soju stood more than half-drained.

Junhee wasn't sure when the warmth in her chest turned into a dizzy haze in her head. Maybe after the second shot of soju—or the third. The glasses on their table had multiplied without her noticing, Semi’s once-brimming glass of soju now dulled, its crystal clarity clouded by melted ice.

“Your cheeks are pink,” Semi teased, leaning on one elbow, her face angled toward Junhee like she had all the time in the world.

Junhee tried to wave it off. “It's the lights in here.”

“The lights aren't that flattering,” Semi said, smiling into her glass before taking a slow sip.

Junhee laughed—or maybe it was more of a giggle, the sound surprising even herself. She rested her chin in her hand, feeling the room tilt slightly when she blinked. The bassline from the speakers thrummed in her chest, and every sound seemed a little softer, a little easier to sink into.

When she reached for her drink again, Semi's hand intercepted it smoothly, “I think you've had enough,” she said, her voice light but leaving no room for argument.

Junhee frowned, whining faintly. “I'm fine. Just… a little floaty.”

“Floaty,” Semi repeated, as if testing the word, her lips curling. “That's the drunkest way l've ever heard someone say 'I'm fine’.”

Junhee leaned back against the booth, her limbs loose, eyelids heavier than they should be. “I don't get drunk that easily.”

“Then you're proving yourself wrong tonight,” Semi replied, sliding out of her seat.

She rounded the table and crouched next to Junhee's side, one hand brushing her arm in a way that felt casual but grounding. "Come on. My place is closer. You can crash there."

Junhee blinked, trying to focus on her face. “What about my place—”

“It's too far. And I'm not letting yourself seen like this in front of your boyfriend.”

She then giggles, “Semiii, don’t say that. You know that I don’t have one.” she clumsily says with her eyes half-lidded, hiccuping a few times.

Semi narrowed her eyes at her curiously. “Then, who’s Myunggi?”

Junhee let out a cheeky chuckle, then a faint grumble but didn’t answer her question, her body limping against Semi’s.

The logic was irrefutable, even to her fuzzy brain. Junhee let herself be guided out of the booth, Semi's hand settling firmly at her waist as they stepped into the cooler night air. The street felt quieter after the press of the bar, though the neon still buzzed faintly above them.

“Hold onto me,” Semi murmured, and Junhee did. Not just because she was unsteady, but because Semi's presence felt warm, anchoring. Her laugh bubbled up again for no reason, and Semi gave her a sideways look, amused but not mocking.

As Semi guided her through the streets, Junhee mumbles something under her breath, “I think I know who’s Myunggi, now.” followed by a hiccup. “He’s my boyfriend. But, it doesn’t feel like he is.”

Semi briefly took a glimpse of Junhee.

“He doesn’t look at me the way you do. Doesn’t make me feel the way you do…”

Semi decided to stay quiet during Junhee’s nonsense. Though, something warm bloomed in her chest as she listened in.

By the time they reached the short flight of stairs to Semi's apartment, Junhee's steps were slow, her head tilting toward Semi's shoulder.

Semi unlocked the door with a practiced flick of her wrist, then guided her inside, the dim hallway light casting a soft halo over them.

Junhee sank into the cushions, the scent of Semi's place, faint citrus and something warmer—wrapping around her like a blanket. She let her head fall back, eyelids fluttering shut for just a moment, hearing the soft clink of glass from the kitchen.

“You're too nice to me,” Junhee mumbled when Semi returned, her voice thick with drowsy honesty. She accepted the water, though she only took a sip before letting it rest in her lap. “You… you actually listen when I talk.”

Semi raised a brow, settling on the edge of the couch. “What, other people don't?”

Junhee laughed softly, though it sounded a little broken at the edges. “Myunggi… he does, sometimes. But lately it feels like I'm talking to a wall. Like I could say anything and it wouldn't matter.”She hiccuped, then covered her mouth, embarrassed.

Semi tilted her head, her gaze steady but not pushing. “What would you say, if it did matter?”

Junhee stared at her, the alcohol blurring her filters until her words slipped out unchecked.

“That l'm tired. That I don't feel… wanted. That sometimes I wonder if he even loves me anymore.” Her eyes shimmered, though no tears fell.

“And you—” Her voice caught. “you make me feel like someone actually sees me.”

The air between them shifted, heavier but not suffocating. Semi's hand reached out, brushing Junhee's hair back behind her ear in a gesture so gentle it made her throat ache.

Junhee's breath hitched. The closeness, the warmth, the soft citrus scent clinging to Semi—it was all too much.

Before she could think, she leaned in, her lips catching Semi's in a kiss that was clumsy at first, shaped more by want than coordination.

And Semi didn't pull away—

Her lips lingered on Junhee’s for a moment longer, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the taste. It wasn’t long until Semi’s mouth made its way down to Junhee’s jaw.

With a soft sigh, Junhee tilted her head back, her breath hitching as Semi's mouth danced slowly down the tender curve of her neck. “Semi-unnie…”

When they finally pulled back, barely a breath apart, Junhee’s eyes searched Semi’s face.

“I like you,” Junhee said quietly, a gentle confession wrapped in a whisper. “I don’t think I can pretend anymore.”

Semi’s breath hitched, warmth spreading across her cheeks.

“Then don’t.” She replied, kissing her again, voice barely above a whisper.

I like you too.

“Come with me,” Junhee blinked, heart pounding, words caught somewhere between surprise and anticipation.

Semi stood, her hand reaching out, fingers brushing lightly against Junhee's wrist, “Let's go somewhere more comfortable," she said softly, voice low and inviting.

Junhee nodded, her head still swimming with warmth and the hazy glow of alcohol and emotion. She allowed Semi to guide her up from the couch, their fingers entwining naturally, as if they'd done this a thousand times before.

The walk to Semi's room was clumsy— Junhee's tipsy sway met with Semi's steadying hand at her hip, but the laughter between them dissolved into something heavier the moment the door clicked shut.

Semi guided her to the bed, sitting her down before climbing over her, knees bracketing her thighs. The air was thick with the sound of their breathing, the soft drag of hands over skin.

Clothes gave way in uneven beats—an unbuttoned blouse here, a tugged skirt there, they were left just in their underwear.

They kissed through the first wave, fingers finding familiar patterns in unfamiliar territory, until Semi shifted lower, dragging Junhee's hips toward hers.

The slow grind started tentative, testing, but Junhee caught on quickly, matching Semi's rhythm. “Semi-unnie,” Junhee gasps, “feels so good.” she manages to mutter out.

Semi let out a small acknowledged hum, “Yeah?” hands roaming Junhee’s exposed and undeniably delicate torso.

Junhee’s breath hitched when a sensitive part of her clothed folds brushed against Semi’s, followed by a moan from Semi.

“Ughn— Semi-unnie,” she wraps her arms around Semi’s shoulders, nails raking lightly down her back. “wanna feel more… take these off,” She breathed, her fingers tugging at the waistband between them.

Semi froze for a heartbeat, eyes locking with hers. Whatever she saw there erased any hesitation.

“Yeah,” She murmured, voice warm and certain, already reaching down to help, tugging the fabric away with quick, eager hands.

Revealed Junhee’s soft folds—puffed and clean-shaven, coated with a slight shimmer of slickness due to the friction earlier. Semi breathed out at the sight, she gave Junhee a quick tease without warning, to which she jolted and squeaked out a whimper.

“You’re so perfect, Junhee-ah.” Semi whispered as she settles against Junhee, eyeing her with pure affection.

The air between them felt sharper without the last barrier, every brush of skin-to-skin sparking hotter than before.

It was mutual from the start—their hips moved in sync, every press and shift pulling a sharper sound from one or both of them.

An obscene sound began to produce from the friction of both their slick folds, ragged breathing filled the room quicker than ever.

The pace built naturally, desperation threading between the shuddering exhales, until it wasn't clear who was chasing whose release—only that they were both running toward the same breaking point.

“Semi— close, close,” Junhee’s uneven breathing accompanied by Semi’s moans. “Yeah— ‘m close, too,”

When it came, it was all tangled limbs and breathless, open-mouthed gasps, their bodies collapsing together in the afterglow, still catching little aftershocks in the press of their thighs.

Junhee laid against the sheets, chest heaving, her bangs sticking damp against her forehead. Semi moved to lay beside her, equally breathless, an almost smug smile tugging at her lips.

For a few beats, only the sound of their uneven breathing filled the room. Then Junhee turned her head, her eyes hazy but determined.

“Again,” She whispered, voice low and pleading.

Semi's smile deepened, fingers already trailing over Junhee's thigh. “You're insatiable.”

Junhee's answer was a soft, desperate, “ Please.”

Semi shifted closer, her mouth finding Junhee's once more—and the rest of the night swallowed them whole.

 

---

 

The morning light was merciless. It seeped through the thin curtains in pale gold streaks. When Junhee’s eyes fluttered open, she was met with an unfamiliar ceiling.

The sheets beneath her smelled faintly of laundry detergent and something sweeter—vanilla, maybe—and her head throbbed with the dull ache of a hangover.

It took a second for the realization to hit: this wasn't her bedroom.

She sat up slowly, wincing as the mattress dipped without the weight of anyone beside her. The bed was empty.

Her stomach knotted.

The memories from last night came in flashes—music pulsing, glasses clinking, Semi's laugh ringing in her ear. The way her body had felt warm, untethered, reckless. But everything after that was blurred at the edges, smeared together like paint in water.

Junhee's hand fumbled for her phone on the bedside table. The screen lit up—no missed calls, no unread messages. Her movements stopped abruptly, feeling a tad confused—there were notifications from unrelated apps, but none from Myunggi.

Soon enough, she realized she’s dressed in a hoodie that’s too big for her, and a pair of sweatpants colored in dark blue—these clothes were not hers.

Her mind goes back to her phone, thumb hovered over Myunggi's name, but before she could decide whether to press it, the door to the bedroom opened.

Semi stepped into the room, wearing a cropped tank top and a grin that was far too self-satisfied for this early in the morning.

“Well, look who's up,” She said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “and here I thought you'd be out until noon after last night.”

Junhee swallowed, her pulse ticking faster. “…What happened last night?”

Semi's grin sharpened into something teasing, “Oh, you don't remember?” she chuckled softly as she remembered what they did the night before. “You were so energetic last night, I was almost impressed that you—”

“Semi, this isn't funny.” Junhee's voice cut sharper than she intended.

She pulled the blanket tighter around her, as if that could shield her from whatever Semi might say next. "What the hell happened last night?"

Semi froze mid-step. The cheeky glint in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a flicker of something unreadable. “Oh. You’re being serious?”

For a moment, the room felt heavier, the morning light suddenly too bright. Semi's expression shifted, playfulness gone, replaced by a taut wariness that made the air between them feel brittle.

“You really don't remember?”

“I remember drinking, and then—” Junhee shook her head, “I don't remember enough. So just tell me. Did we—”

“Yeah,” Semi cut in without hesitation, a faint curl still on her lips. “we did. You wanted it.”

Junhee stared, heat creeping up her neck—shame or anger, she couldn't tell. “Don't say it like that. I was drunk.”

Semi's brows drew together, a flicker of irritation in her voice. “You weren't that drunk.”

“I was drunk,” Junhee repeated, her voice rising, shaky but fierce. “You knew I was vulnerable. You took advantage of me and lured me in to your place because you knew—”

“You kissed me first. You said that you liked me.” Semi shot back, stepping closer, her tone sharpening. “Don't twist it around just because you woke up guilty.”

Junhee's nails dug into the fabric of the hoodie she was wearing, the scent of Semi's detergent suddenly clinging too close to her skin. “That's not the point—”

“This isn't who I am,” She says, her voice trembling but clear. “I have a boyfriend.”

Semi's expression shifted—a quick, sharp flash of something like disdain before her smile returned, tighter now. “Yeah. And he clearly wasn't enough to keep you from crawling into my bed.”

Junhee's jaw clenched. “Don't talk about him like that.”

“Why not?” Semi's voice was cool now, deliberate. “You said he doesn’t love you. You said I make you feel seen.”

Junhee didn’t say anything, like she knows Semi is telling the truth, yet her brows were furrowed together, a glint of hurt and a slight shimmer in her eyes as she stares at Semi.

A beat passes, Semi stepped closer to her, reaching for her arm to soothe her. Junhee was quick to pull away.

“I don’t want to see you again.” Junhee declared, her voice came out weak and timid.

Semi blinked, her crooked expression softening slightly. Junhee’s words hung on the air for a brief moment before she finds herself shaking her head. “You don’t mean that.”

Junhee sniffed, “I do.” reaching for her phone and her handbag as Semi just stood there and watched. “Good bye, Semi.” Her shoulder bumped against Semi’s when she walked past her through the doorway.

Junhee’s phone was heavy in her pocket, still stubbornly blank of Myunggi's name.

She slipped her shoes back on without socks, pulled the hood over her messy hair, and stepped into the hallway. The cold air outside bit at her cheeks, but she kept moving, head down, as if the ground could swallow her whole if she walked fast enough.

The apartment seemed to shrink once the door slammed shut behind Junhee.

For a moment, there was only the sound of Semi's own breathing—quick, uneven—before the silence settled in, heavy as a wet blanket.

From the bedroom, the faint scent of Junhee's perfume still clung to the sheets, cloying and bittersweet. Semi stood in the doorway, staring at the unmade bed—at the proof of everything Junhee had just denied.

Semi rubbed at her jaw, swallowing hard. The smugness she'd worn earlier felt like a costume she'd forgotten to take off, now hanging awkward and wrong.

Her lips parted as if to call Junhee back, but no sound came. The apartment was just too still, the air too stale.

It felt like something had left with her—something Semi had almost managed to keep.

 

 

 

The hallway was quiet when Myunggi reached to his apartment’s floor, the hum of the old fluorescent lights overhead the only sound beside his own steps.

He tugged his hoodie sleeves over his hands, trying to shake the stiffness from his limbs. Subong’s apartment always smelled faintly of cologne and cigarette smoke, and it clung to him now, stubborn and unmistakable.

He’d told himself he’d leave before sunrise. He’d told himself a lot of things.

Fishing for his keys, he was already picturing the empty apartment, maybe Junhee still asleep, the blinds drawn—

Then she appeared at the far end of the hallway.

Junhee, walking toward him from the opposite direction, head down, her hood shadowing her face. She froze when she saw him, and for a moment neither of them moved, the space between them stretching thin.

“Where have you been?” Myunggi asked before he could stop himself. The question came out sharper than intended, but seeing her out here at this hour—alone—felt wrong.

Her eyes narrowed, and when she spoke, her voice was steady but clipped. “Me? I was just about to ask you the same thing. You’re only getting home now?”

The keys in his palm felt heavier. “I— went out with some friends,” He said, aiming for casual but hearing the stumble in his own voice. “We were hanging out. I got lost track of time.”

“Friends,” She repeated, not as a question, not as agreement—just the word, flat and weightless. Mentally connecting the dots for why Myunggi didn't message nor call her even once. Her gaze didn't break from his.

Myunggi shifted his weight, the urge to step forward clashing with the urge to retreat. “Yeah. Why?”

Junhee tilted her head slightly. “Because you’re coming home in yesterday’s clothes. And you smell like soap. Not ours.”

It was a small thing, the kind of observation she might have tossed out playfully another time. But now, it landed heavy, sinking under his ribs.

He forced a half-laugh, one that didn't feel right in his mouth. “I crashed a friend’s place. Showered there. It’s not a big deal.”

Junhee’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't say anything. She just stepped past him toward their front door.

“Junhee—” He started, but she was already unlocking it.

The door clicked open, and she walked in without looking back, the scent of her shampoo trailing faintly in her wake.

Myunggi followed, shutting the door behind him. The apartment felt smaller, like the air had shifted in the hours he'd been gone.

Junhee moved toward the bedroom without a word, not slamming the door but closing it with a quiet finality that made his stomach twist.

He stood in the entryway for a long moment, his hand still on the doorknob, the faint echo of Subong's laugh slipping uninvited into the silence.

 

 

Semi was already halfway through kicking off her snickers by the time Subong pulled the door open. He leaned his shoulder against the frame, one brow arched in that slow, easy way of his.

“You look like hell,” He drawled.

“I feel like hell,” She brushed past him without waiting for an invite, her perfume catching in the air for a second before the scent of his place took over—cheap cologne mixed with cigarette smoke.

Subong shut the door and followed her into the living room. “So? Did our little night out work its magic?”

Semi dropped onto his couch like gravity had doubled. Her purse slid to the floor with a dull thud. “No. Not even close.”

She let out a dry laugh that had no humor in it. “The first person she thought of when I checked on her this morning wasn’t me. Wasn’t the night. Wasn’t how she felt. It was him.” She scoffed, sharp and bitter, the sound curling in the space between them. “Myunggi.”

Something flickered in Subong's expression—quick, subtle, but there. A twitch in the jaw, a narrowing of the eyes that didn't quite match his usual lazy grin. “Huh.”

He sank into the armchair across from her, elbows resting on his knees. “And here I thought you’d have her wrapped around your fingers by now.”

“I could have,” Semi muttered, leaning back into the couch cushions. “But she pulled away like I’d burned her. She said—” Semi imitated Junhee's low, wavering voice, “‘this isn’t who I am. I have a boyfriend.’”

Subong tilted his head, watching her like he was studying the pieces of a puzzle. Then, casually, almost too casually, he said, “What if she knew about her boyfriend’s… extracurricular activities?”

Semi’s eyes darted to his. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, “I could get Junhee to find out about me and Myunggi. Let her see what he’s been up to when she’s not around.”

There was a pause, long enough for the low hum of his speakers to fill it. Semi frowned, the weight of the idea sitting heavy. “Are you crazy? That would absolutely break her. You think I’m just gonna watch her fall apart?”

Subong’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but it didn't reach his eyes.

She hesitated, then pressed, “And, what about Myunggi? Don’t you care about his feelings? Do you not care about him at all?”

For the first time in the conversation, Subong didn't answer right away.

He looked away, jaw working, eyes narrowing faintly as if her words had landed somewhere they shouldn't have. The air between them shifted, his usual smoothness stalling just a little.

“…I do,” He muttered at last.

Semi blinked at him, a little thrown by the softness in his tone.

“But,” He went on as his voice tightens, “that isn’t important right now. What matters is us—getting both of them just within our reach.”

Semi's gaze lingered on him for a beat longer than necessary, like she'd just caught a glimpse of something under the surface, and it unsettled her.

Semi exhaled slowly, her lips parting in reluctant acknowledgment. “Fine,” She said at last, almost like she was signing a contract she couldn't take back. “I’m in.”

He smiled faintly—not smug, not gloating, but like he’d been expecting her answer all along.

By the time she left his place, she still couldn't shake the image of his face in that pause—softened for just a heartbeat. It made her question if she'd really figured him out at all.

 

 

Notes:

i’ve read all the comments you guys left on the previous chapter, and i deeply appreciate every each one of them. your words have motivated me to work hard, thank you!❤️

btw, since i’m gonna be focusing more on thanggi in the next chapter, what would thanggi be called if it’s subong instead of thanos? for me, i think bonggi sounds really cute!!!1!!11! ehehhehe

lemme know abt your thoughts, whether it’s abt this chapter or my idea for thanggi’s new ship name. kudos & comment are much appreciated!!

Chapter 4: You let the wrong people love you

Days slipped by in silence—almost cruelly, and Junhee’s growing absence only deepened the ache. She had stopped messaging Semi—no more check-ins, no more hangouts, no more of her once gentle hold.

Instead, Junhee’s presence lies more prominent in the comfort of her and Myunggi’s apartment—waking up to Myunggi being beside her began to feel regular for her again.

And while the kettle whistles softly in the kitchen, Junhee would be sitting at the counter, fingers curled around her favourite mug with her eyes fixed on Myunggi as he moves between the stove and sink.

He doesn't look up, but she watches him as if searching for something in the set of his shoulders.

Fluorescent lights hum overhead in the grocery store. She loops her arm through his, holding up a packet for him to see. He nods absently, reaching for something else, but her fingers linger on his sleeve.

Late evening, on the couch, the glow of the television paints their faces. He leans back, attention locked on the screen, while she sits a little closer than necessary—her gaze drifts to him more often than the movie.

And before she drifts off to sleep, her eyes search Myunggi’s face again, as if to find the warmth that she once had with Semi. What she felt with Semi should be wrong—she mentally notes to herself despite the fact she couldn't bring Semi out of her mind.

And the same goes to Myunggi with Subong, though with weight of her sudden presence lingered, as if her touch had pressed itself into his skin.

Now, Myunggi was slouched back against the couch, his head tipped slightly towards Subong, a thin ribbon of vapor curled past Subong’s cheek from the vape in his left hand, the faint sweetness clinging to the air between them while Subong's other hand rested lazily across Myunggi's lap.

The weight of his arm was unassuming, except for the slow drag of Myunggi’s fingertips along Subong’s healed scars—the pale, ridged lines on his forearm. The movement is unhurried, almost absentminded, but not without awareness.

“She’s been around more lately,” Myunggi says after a pause, voice low, as if the words have been waiting to escape for hours.

Subong exhales another ribbon of smoke, eyes forward, “Has she?” he murmurs.

Myunggi only hummed in response, “It’s weird,” his thumb brushes against one of Subong’s scars, tugging gently. “considering the fact she’d been hanging out with one of your friends.”

Subong blinked, the tip of his vape stilled just at his lower lip, “Which friend of mine, exactly?” he asked, his eyes flicking briefly to Myunggi.

Silence lingered before Myunggi breathed out a sigh. “Semi.” His voice came out barely more than a murmur, almost swallowed by the quiet.

“It’s like… I don’t know, something tells me that what they’ve been doing is more than just hanging out.” Myunggi continued, voice now louder, the thought lingering between them.

Subong said nothing at first, blinking slowly as he took in Myunggi’s words. “Shouldn’t you be glad that Junhee has somebody else on her mind?” The tone of his voice unreadable.

Myunggi stilled for a moment by Subong’s question. “…I was. For a little while.” He shifted a little against Subong before speaking again. “I’d just get anxious thinking about it.”

Silence lingered again and Subong didn’t question Myunggi’s confession, “You could’ve savored it a little longer. Now look who’s complaining about Junhee’s clinginess.” despite his jab, there’s a tinge of warmth underneath his sarcastic tone.

“I’m not complaining.” Myunggi’s response came quicker than it should. Seemingly, his words came before he could process them—rather to deny Subong’s accusation than to prove his innocence.

He soon realized what he had just said a moment later, stumbling over his word. “I mean, I am. It’s just… I— she… whatever.” He went to hid his face as he feels his cheeks burning up in humiliation.

Subong’s laugh danced in the air, warm enough to linger between them. “You’re cute when you do that.”

Myunggi grunted, “I’m not doing anything, though.” the tone of his voice sounding like a wronged child.

Subong’s easygoing manner didn’t waver as he grinned wider, “You’re right. You’re cute even when you’re not doing anything.” he said it light, but the words felt deliberate—the kind that meant to stay with Myunggi.

Soon enough, Myunggi gave Subong a nudge—both as playful and a warning, as he muttered, “Shut up.” Subong only grinned, he was counting it as a win.

“I should really head back home, but it feels like such a bother.” Myunggi rubbed one eye, his voice low and edged with slight irritation.

Subong hummed in acknowledgment, brushing stray strands of Myunggi’s hair from his forehead. “Well, no one’s forcing you to.” His smile was tender, almost lingering.

Myunggi wanted to resist, but he only wanted to because of his concern over Junhee.

It wasn’t long before Subong chimed in again. “Just for tonight.”

Myunggi’s voice caught in his throat, not from agreement, but from the kind of tired that made arguing feel pointless.

And so, he stayed in at Subong’s for the night.

 

---

 

Semi wasn’t sure how she found herself at Namgyu’s door. Maybe it was boredom, maybe it was loneliness, or maybe it was that gnawing restlessness that followed her everywhere now.

Junhee used to be the one to fill that silence—her laugh, her chatter, her presence always buzzing around like electricity. Though as of late, Junhee was someone else—with someone else.

Maybe that could explain why her feet led her to Namgyu’s. He wasn’t Junhee, not even close, but at least he was familiar.

She just needed somewhere to breathe, to uncoil the tightness pressing at her chest. Namgyu's place was good for that—quiet enough, detached enough, no questions asked.

She and Namgyu had never been on steady ground—they were always either throwing needless insults at each other or hanging out just to talk shit about Subong and his peculiar habits.

And despite that, Namgyu let her in with little fuss, and she ended up sprawling across his couch like she was there for a therapy session of some sort.

Namgyu reappeared from the kitchen with a glass of water, then settled on the edge of the sofa where Semi’s legs were stretched out.

“You could’ve at least told me you wanted to come over.” He starts, his voice low and unreadable.

He held the glass of water out to Semi. When she refused with a silent of head shake, he placed it on the coffee table instead.

“I never said I wanted to. That’s why I didn’t say anything.” Semi retorted, her jab sharper than it needed to be, Namgyu’s unimpressed stare was answer enough.

“I just… needed somewhere to breathe. And it just happened to be your place.”

Namgyu didn’t laugh, but a quiet sigh of amusement slipped out, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Good thing it’s you that came over. Anyone else, and I would’ve kicked them out. I’ve got plans today.” Namgyu remarked flatly despite his half-smile.

Semi blinked, her brows furrowed. She tilted her head just enough to give him a lazy side-eye. “Plans? With who?” She asks, the tone of her voice edged with slight teasing, just barely.

Namgyu grinned—sheepish but not quite able to hide the way his voice jumped. “You know one of Junhee’s friends, Daeho? Yeah, him.”

That made her hand still against her shirt. Junhee’s friend. For a second she just stared, blinking slowly, before narrowing her eyes at Namgyu.

“Are you two… going out or something?”

Namgyu let out a short, uncertain laugh as he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not like that. We just… hang out sometimes. You know, he’s funny. Easy to talk to.”

“Funny,” Semi echoed, slowly sitting up now. “I’ve heard that a lot about him.”

Namgyu’s grin stretched wider, “Well, it’s true. Not to mention how charming he is.” he said as he tucks his hair behind one ear. There was something in the way he said it—unguarded, warm, almost out of character.

Semi frowned, masking it quickly by reaching her glass of water on the coffee table. She tipped it towards her lips, letting the coolness ease her dry throat. “Sounds like you really like him.”

Namgyu shrugged in a childlike manner, but there was a light in his eyes he couldn’t put out. “Yeah. I guess I really do.”

Silence stretched, filled by the buzz of his cheap ceiling fan. Semi tapped her nail against her glass, her thoughts drifting.

Junhee’s world was bleeding into places she hadn’t expected—friends, routines, affections. Even here at Namgyu’s, in this room where she thought she could escape, Junhee’s shadow followed.

Semi leaned back into the sofa, a half-smile curling at her mouth though it didn’t reached her eyes. “Huh. Never thought you’d still get giddy over someone.”

Namgyu shot her a mock glare, throwing a crumpled wrapper at her. “Shut up.” But he was still grinning.

Semi didn’t answer. Her gaze had gone distant, thoughtful. Namgyu might have been happy, but all she could think about was the way Junhee seemed further away each time she reached for her.

 

---

 

Junhee stirred awake to the soft thud of the front door, her eyes fluttering open as she processes Myunggi had arrived home regarding the empty space beside her on the bed.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes as muffled sounds came from outside—shuffling, and the scrape of a chair.

By the time she stepped into the living area, Myunggi was already there, balancing two paper cups as he set them down on their dining table.

“Morning,” She greeted, voice still thick with sleep as she stretched her arms with a languid yawn, blinking drowsily against the soft light filling the room.

“You’re awake already?” Myunggi’s tone was casual, almost too casual, as he slid into his seat.

The two paper cups on the table caught Junhee’s attention despite her half-lidded eyes. “You bought drinks?”

“From the café down the street,” He informed, fishing out his phone before placing it on the table beside the drinks. “Figured we could use something warm.”

Junhee picks one up, bringing it closer. The bitter scent makes her pause, “…Coffee?” she blinks at him. “You don’t drink coffee.”

Myunggi stiffens for a split second before his tone evens out, “A friend paid for it. I wasn’t gonna waste it.” he shrugs it off, trying to sound breezy. “Just drink it if you want. You’ll like it more than me, anyway.”

Junhee hesitated, her hands wrapping around the warmth of the cup but her thoughts snagging. A friend? At this hour? She wanted to ask more, but the way Myunggi had already settled with his drink felt like a wall, if she pressed too hard, he’d just close off.

They sat across from each other the silence between them louder than the quiet hum of the city outside.

Suddenly, Myunggi’s phone buzzed on the table, making Junhee flinch. A message lit up the screen, the preview line there long enough for her to catch the curve of a sentence before Myunggi flipped the phone face-down in one smooth motion.

Something ugly twists in Junhee’s stomach by that gesture. It wasn’t long before she shifts her cup in an attempt to mask her unease.

“I’m going out again after this, the laundry basket’s piling up.” Myunggi said suddenly, he tore open a packet of sugar, eyes fixed on the swirl as he stirred his drink.

Junhee stilled for a second. “It’s okay. You already went out earlier. It’s my turn to take care of the laundry, anyway.” She insisted, the sincerity in her tone edged with slight hesitation.

Myunggi took a moment to respond, as if he were in deep thought about Junhee’s sudden persuasion—as if he had to change plans on the spot. After a beat, he nodded in agreement with a smile that didn’t quite reached his eyes.

Silence stretched between them. Junhee forced herself to sip on the coffee, the bitterness sticking to her tongue. “Did you run into anyone we know earlier?” Her tone was casual, but her eyes searched him.

Myunggi shook his head, too quickly. “Nah. Just picked these up and came back.”

Junhee nodded, letting the silence return, but her gaze lingered on his phone. It sat there between them, its back facing both of them— two people sharing a table, yet not really sharing much at all.

 

It was already past noon. Junhee had only just left with the laundry basket, the sound of the front door still ringing in Myunggi’s. And the text he’d sent to Subong still glowing on the screen of his phone:

myunggi: junhee’s gone out for laundry. i feel it’s better if you come over to mine instead

And it’s not just the fact Subong replied with a mocking, yet teasing message, but the way he phrased it that stuck with him:

subong: is this a challenge? i’m down

Despite being irritated by Subong’s reply, the lopsided, flustered smile on Myunggi’s face was unmistakable. So, he replied back with something that mirrored Subong’s mischief:

myunggi: don’t get too excited. she’s only gonna be gone for a few hours

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

subong: sounds just enough for a quickie. don’t you think?

Myunggi stared at the screen longer than he should’ve, the corners of his mouth twitching with a nervous half-smile. With a shake of his head, he tried to laugh it off, thumbs hovering over the keyboard before settling on the safest thing he could manage.

myunggi: you’re impossible.

Myunggi left the conversation at that, slipping his phone face down on the table as if that could muffle the echo of Subong’s teasing words. He tried distracting himself with the TV, flipping through channels he didn’t care about, but the anticipation gnawed at him anyway.

When the knock finally came, sharp and familiar, he wasn’t surprised.

The door was shut softly behind Subong, there’s an obvious shit-eating grin on his face when asks, “Why’d you change the plan?” like he didn’t already know the answer.

Myunggi let out a sigh, caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance. “I already told you, didn’t I?”

Subong’s grin only stretched wider in answer, as if Myunggi’s irritation was exactly what he wanted.

Without saying anything else, he slipped past Myunggi and headed straight for the kitchen. Myunggi trailed after him, slower, watching as Subong reached for the cabinet like he’d done it a hundred times before.

His fingers curled around an unmistakable, familiar porcelain handle—Junhee’s favorite mug.

Something twisted low in Myunggi’s stomach. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words was caught in his throat, which he shut it again.

“You know,” Subong starts, his voice light and casual even as he held mug that carried Junhee’s presence. The sight of it made Myunggi tense, hesitant—as if she were standing right there.

Subong leaned against the counter as steam curled from the mug, “Junhee’s pretty much doing both of us a favor.” he shot Myunggi a sly, sidelong glance.

“Your laundry’s getting taken care of, and I get to keep you company in the meantime. Not bad, huh?”

Myunggi forced out a laugh, thin and shaky. But didn’t answer.

They eventually settled on the couch, Subong set Junhee’s mug on the coffee table, sprawling comfortably on the couch with his usual confidence while Myunggi sat stiffly at the other end, shoulders tense, lips pressed into a thin line.

He didn’t say anything, and for a moment it was just the hum of the fan above them and the ticking of the clock.

It didn’t take long for Subong to notice. His eyes slid towards Myunggi, sharp despite the lazy tilt of his grin. “You’re awfully quiet all of the sudden,” He murmured, and that was all it took for Myunggi’s silence to splinter, the words he’d been holding back slipping through.

Myunggi shifted his hands tightening around his knees. For a moment he looked like he might brush it off, but the words caught in his throat refused to go away.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” He admitted finally, his voice low, almost drowned out by the hum of the fan above. His eyes stayed on the floor, anywhere but on Subong. “I don’t… I don’t exactly know what I want.”

His shoulders hunched, as if saying it out made him smaller.

Subong remained quiet—almost unfazed, yet the way his eyes narrowed at Myunggi was far from it. He tilted his head back, gaze lingering as he searched his face. “Junhee?”

Myunggi’s breath hitched, he lightly nibbled on his lower lip, as if he knows Subong would call out her name in times like this. He ducks his head low for a brief moment, like he’s trying to hide his face.

“I know if I keep saying that… if I keep admitting it, you’ll get—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. He let out a staggering sigh before continuing, “You’ll get upset.”

And for a moment, something softened in Subong’s eyes. The couch dipped slightly as he leaned in, his hand guiding Myunggi closer until he fell into his hold, his head settling against his shoulder—gentle, warm, and grounding.

“I’m sorry,” Myunggi said after a beat, his voice small and timid. “I’m sorry for being difficult.”

But Subong was quick to counter, his tone firm yet soft. “You’re not. Who said you ever were?”

Myunggi didn’t respond; instead, he stared down at his lap. “It’s just… I don’t think I can keep lying to her anymore.” His voice cracked as though he could feel the shame wash over him the moment when the words left his lips.

Despite this, Subong listened to every word. “Then don’t lie to her,” He said, voice low, steady. His hand lingered on Myunggi’s opposite shoulder. “But don’t lie to me, either.”

Subong tilts his head forward to get a glimpse of Myunggi’s face—and that’s when he finally looks up at him. The weight of Subong’s gaze was steady, unflinching, and for a moment Myunggi forgot how to breathe.

The space between them narrowed before Myunggi even realized it, and then Subong’s forehead brushed against his. Myunggi’s lips parted on a shaky breath, and that was all it took for their mouth to meet—delicate, dissolving into each other as though one wrong move could break it.

The first touch was feather-light, fragile. Then Subong’s hand slid up to cradle the back of Myunggi’s neck, tugging him closer, and the kiss broke open—no longer careful, if anything hungry.

Myunggi responded before he could stop himself, lips parting, giving in to the heat swelling between them.

Myunggi’s head spun with guilt and relief, with the way Subong kissed him like there was nothing to apologize for.

The kiss deepened until Myunggi almost forgot how to breathe. Subong's mouth moved against his with a confidence that only made him weaker, his hand at the back of Myunggi's neck guiding, not forceful—like he knew exactly when Myunggi would give in.

The couch dipped beneath their weight as they shifted closer, knees brushing, thighs pressing.

When Subong nipped lightly at his bottom lip, Myunggi's breath stuttered, a tremor running through him. He tried to chase the sensation, kissing back harder, but it only made Subong smile against his mouth—smug, knowing.

It didn't take long before hands grew restless. Subong tugged at the hem of Myunggi's shirt, fingers slipping underneath to graze over warm skin.

Myunggi's gasp was swallowed instantly, another kiss crashing over it, rougher this time.

The shirt bunched awkwardly as Subong pulled, the fabric twisting between them until Myunggi finally lifted his arms in surrender, letting it fall to the floor.

The air hit his skin, cool for a moment before Subong's palms replaced it—hot, grounding, sweeping across his sides in a way that left him shivering.

Their mouths broke apart just long enough for Myunggi to tug at Subong's hoodie, the sound of fabric rustling in the dim room, then his shirt followed, leaving them chest to chest, skin burning where it touched.

Every movement was urgent, hungry, but in between, Subong slowed it down deliberately. His fingers skimmed up to cup Myunggi's jaw, his thumb brushing gently over flushed skin as if the moment needed balance, a strange softness cutting through the heat.

Myunggi faltered under it, guilt clawing sharp at his ribs.

Junhee's face flickered in his mind—the way she smiled, the way she trusted him, and suddenly it was Semi in her place. The thought made his lips tremble against Subong's, shame threatening to choke him.

“I can’t…” his breath hitched as he pulled back, forehead pressed against Subong’s. “I can’t keep lying to Junhee.”

His voice came out breathless, chest heaving as his eyes darted to Subong’s—just briefly. “But I think… she’s been lying to me too. Her and Semi, they’ve got something going on, I just know it—”

“Shh.” Subong leaned in, brushing his thumb along Myunggi’s jaw. “Don’t do that to yourself.” He whispered against his lips.

“Maybe you’ve seen it all along and just didn’t want to believe it.” He let his words hang, his mouth brushing against the corner of Myunggi’s.

“But don’t think too much about it. You have me, and that’s all that matters.” His voice came out low, coaxing, almost tender.

The words sank into him, soft and dangerous, and Myunggi shattered all over again.

He kissed him back, desperate this time—messy, aching, clinging to Subong like he might disappear if he let go. Subong welcomed it, deepening the kiss, his hand pressing firmly against the small of Myunggi's back, pulling him in until there was nothing left between them.

Somewhere in the chaos, Myunggi's hands fumbled with the waistband of Subong’s pants, clumsy with urgency, and Subong only laughed against his lips before helping him along.

Their pants loosened, dragging against skin as they pushed and tugged at each other, the couch creaking beneath them with every shift.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were flushed, clothes skewed and half-undone, lips swollen from the bruising kisses. Subong didn't let him pull away.

Instead, he pressed his mouth softly to Myunggi's temple—slower, gentler, and painfully delicate. It disarmed him completely, leaving him pliant in Subong's arms, guilt momentarily eclipsed by warmth.

For a fleeting second, Myunggi let himself believe it, that he was wanted. That he was safe.

When Subong pulled back just enough, his eyes caught the dim light—and what lingered there seemed like tenderness, quiet and steady, softened further by the curve of his smile.

Myunggi leaned into it without hesitation, too lost in the warmth to notice the flicker of something else beneath.

Soon, the room fell silent again, save for the soft rhythm of their breathing. Subong’s hand stayed on his back, steady and grounding, and Myunggi let his eyes slip shut, surrendering to the comfort that, for now, felt real enough.

 

 

 

Night had fallen over the apartment not too long ago.

Junhee had been home for what felt like hours, the apartment quiet except for the hum of the ceiling fan. She had just stepped out of the shower, wrapped in the comfort of her pajamas, a towel around her freshly washed, damp hair.

The freshly applied moisturizer on her face still damp as she lightly patted her cheeks, letting it soak in evenly.

Her feet took her from her shared room with Myunggi—who lay on the bed, eyes fixed on his phone—into the kitchen. She had initially wanted a glass of water to hydrate herself.

That’s when she saw a hoodie draped over one of the dining chairs—dark purple, and unfamiliar. She tilted her head, brows furrowed, examining it closely.

At first, she thought it might be a hoodie of Myunggi’s that she forgot to bring with the laundry.

But when she brings it close to her nostrils to make sure it’s dirty, the hoodie reeked a musky scent that’s far from distinguishable—a scent that isn’t Myunggi’s.

Her fingers lingered on the hoodie, the soft fabric unfamiliar on her hands.

“Myunggi, can you come here for a sec?” Junhee called out, trying to keep her voice even.

For a moment, only the faint hum of the ceiling fan answered her. Then came the shuffle of sheets, the creak of the bed frame, and finally the slow pad of Myunggi's footsteps down the hall.

He appeared at the edge of the dining space, phone still in hand, his brows lifting in mild confusion.

“What’s up?” he asked casually, though his eyes flicked briefly to the hoodie dangling from her grip.

Junhee lifted it halfway, the fabric dangling between her fingers. “I thought I got all of our in the basket,” She said with her head tilted slightly, eyes fixed on him.

For the briefest moment, Myunggi froze.

Then he shrugged, crossing the room to grab a glass from the counter as if to busy himself.

“Must’ve missed that one, then. Or maybe it’s been lying around for a whole.”

But his voice lacked the same ease as his words, carrying a tightness Junhee couldn’t ignore.

She lifted the hoodie again, “But this wasn’t here before I left earlier,” she pressed, her voice quiet but firm.

For a slightest moment, Myunggi’s head snapped to her. His jaw tightened. “You sure? Maybe you just didn’t notice.”

Her brows furrowed deeper. “I would’ve noticed, Myunggi. This isn’t yours, I can tell.”

The silence stretched longer, the atmosphere tensing with each passing second. Myunggi shifted uneasily, his mouth opened as if to explain, but then he let out a sharp scoff.

“Seriously? You’re keeping track of every piece of clothing in the apartment now?”

Junhee blinked, her head shaking subconsciously. “That’s not what I—”

“No, because that’s what it sounds like,” Myunggi cut in, voice rising. “Why’re you acting like you know me inside out?”

Her brows furrowed again, a glint of hurt and confusion flickering in her eyes. She shook her head, firmer this time. “I’m not,”

“Yeah,” He scoffed, the corners of his mouth curling up reluctantly. “Why would you notice? You’re probably with Semi more than you are with me.”

Something in Junhee shifted when Semi’s name slipped off Myunggi’s lips. It didn’t sting because of the way he accused her, but because Semi had been lingering in her mind too—and for a split second, it felt like Myunggi could see through her.

Even so, something felt off—she’d been with Myunggu these past days, and yet he hadn’t once noticed her not meeting Semi.

“…But, I haven’t even seen Semi these past few days. Wouldn’t you have noticed?”

Junhee’s question—so plain and genuine, landed on Myunggi like a sharp jab, catching him off guard and making him falter before he could even think of a response.

His lips parted, then closed again, as if any answer he could give would only betray him further.

A heaviness pressed against his chest, and for a moment he simply let the silence hang there, his eyes lowered, shoulders faintly sagging.

When he finally spoke, his voice carried no defense, only a quiet resignation. “…Yeah, I guess.”

His gaze drfited back to the hoodie in Junhee’s hands, “The hoodie, I’ll just hand wash it. Don’t worry about it.” he said, softer this time, as though retreating into the mundanity of it could shield him from the weight of her question.

The shift was almost too deliberate, an escape wrapped in gentleness. He didn't sound sheepish—only tired, as if deflection was the only answer he had left to give.

Junhee didn’t say anything, only letting the silence linger. It was only after Myunggi left that she found herself turning the moment over her in her mind.

It wasn't just that he'd changed the subject—it was how quickly he had done it, as if her question had been a blow he couldn't afford to take.

 

---

 

By the time the next day rolled around, the weight of last night's interaction with Myunggi still hadn't left Junhee.

The tension clung to her like static, impossible to shake. She was restless enough to send Daeho a message. Maybe seeing a familiar face in the daylight would help her breathe again.

The two of them sat across from each other at their usual street stall, the afternoon sun dipping toward evening. The clatter of dishes and low chatter around them made a backdrop that was almost comforting in its normalcy.

“You look like you haven’t slept,” Daeho said, cracking open his can of soda.

Junhee gave a humorless laugh. “Didn’t. I just… couldn’t stop thinking about things. And needed a breather.”

Daeho nodded slowly, getting what she’s saying. “What things, exactly? If you don’t mind me asking.” He poured his soda into a glass filled with ice.

Junhee hesitated, blinking, unsure if she should voice the thoughts circling in her head. Still, wasn't that why she'd asked Daeho to meet in the first place?

“…About Myunggi. He’s been acting off lately.” She said after a beat, eyes laid anywhere but at Daeho.

Daeho leaned forward a little, his expression soft. “Off how?”

She let out a shaky laugh. “I don't know how to describe it, but I feel like he's… keeping something from me?”

Daeho's brows furrowed, but he stayed quiet, letting her continue.

“Yeah, I get him being busy and distant.” She paused, frowning at her cup. "But this time, it feels different. Like his head's somewhere else, and I'm… not in it.”

Daeho exhaled slowly. “Have you asked him about it?”

“I tried,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He brushed it off. Made me feel like I was overthinking.”

“You're not overthinking,” Daeho said gently, shaking his head. “What you feel matters, Junhee. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

A silence hung for a beat, filled only by the clatter of cutlery from a nearby table. Then Daeho exhaled, tilting his head as if weighing his words.

“Well,” he said slowly, “if I were in your shoes… and given the chance, l'd find someone who makes me feel assured. Safe. Someone I wouldn't have to hide myself away from.”

Junhee let out a faint laugh, though it sounded tired. “It's easier said than done.”

“It is easy,” Daeho said, almost too quickly, then softened his tone. "You just have to believe in yourself. Trust me. Namgyu always says the same thing to me whenever I doubt myself."

Junhee blinked, slightly surprised. “Namgyu?”

Daeho froze for a second, as if realizing he'd slipped. Then he chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. Uh… we've been seeing each other. For a while, actually.”

Her eyes squinted. “You're going out with someone?”

He nodded, a little sheepish but not unhappy. “Yeah. Namgyu. I believe you’ve heard of him from Subong’s circle. Didn't think it'd happen, but… it did.”

Junhee leaned back in her chair, processing that. A small, surprised laugh escaped her.

The thought of Daeho with Namgyu shouldn't have meant much to her—but it lingered anyway, her mind catching on Semi's name.

For a moment, she wondered if there was something ironic about how Daeho found comfort in someone connected to Semi, while she herself kept drifting back to Semi despite everything.

“Wah,” She said, her voice laced with tiredness, a faint smile tugging at her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Must be nice, having someone who makes you feel that way.”

“It is,” Daeho admitted with a small nod. “And who knows? Maybe you’d find someone as great as Namgyu.” A cheeky smile tugged at his lips the moment he mentions Namgyu’s name.

Something twisted in Junhee's chest at that. Not out of jealousy, but a quiet, complicated ache. She was genuinely happy for Daeho—his eyes lit up in a way she hadn't seen in a while.

Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to her own strained situation with Myunggi.

She forced a smile, the corners of her lips curving up even as her heart weighed heavy.

 

---

 

It was late into the night—not past midnight, but early enough that the world outside was hushed, the air dim with stillness.

The faint hum of traffic bled in through the window, muted by distance, while Subong sat in his room with only the laptop's glow cutting the dark.

Subong sat slouched in his chair, his hoodie was left in someone else’s—and without it, he looked almost stripped down, the sharp angles of his shoulders caught in the cold light of the screen.

The soft hum of the computer was constant, broken only by the deliberate click, click of his mouse. His fingers hesitated between movements, lingering too long over a picture before shifting to another.

Myunggi’s face filled the screen in various shots—some blurry, some smiling in the way it reaches his eyes, some hesitant, all of them unmistakably damning.

Subong leaned back, eyes narrowing as he studied them, as if weighing the perfect angle, the perfect moment to pull the thread loose.

Even so, there was this slight feeling he couldn’t easily shake off. To send this meant putting the blade to Junhee's heart—and by extension, to Myunggi's.

That was exactly why his hand trembled, a whisper of care still tugging against his intent.

For a long moment, he did nothing, just stared. Then, almost reluctantly, he opened a message window.

His fingers hesitated over the keys, pausing between every word as though weighing the cost.

Finally, the words appeared, simple and feigning devastation.

“I think you should know.”

 

 

Notes:

huhuhu so sorry for the late update!!☹️

aside from sch, i procrastinated for way longer than i should and eventually writer’s block started creeping in but i finally managed to finish chapter 4🥹🥹✌️✌️ thank gyat

thank you for reaching this far if you have. kudos & comments are much appreciated!❤️

Chapter 5: In this light, I swear, I’m blind

Subong stared at the message on the screen for longer than he should.

The message bar blinked at him like a heartbeat beneath a username that isn’t his. A shell account, blank profile picture, random numbers in the handle—something faceless and forgettable.

Myunggi still lingered on his mind, even as his eyes fixed on a cropped text message between him and Subong.

Then a short clip: he and Myunggi at the café down the street—Myunggi’s expression sheepish and hesitant in front of the camera, fingers tapping lightly against the paper cup.

Sending this would hurt Myunggi. But the thought of Junhee, so trusting, so blind, festered in him.

His hand trembled. He could close the laptop now, pretend this moment never happened, pretend he was above it all.

Instead, he exhaled, slow and heavy.

The message bar blinked one last time.

Click.

Message sent.

 

 

 

Junhee curled into the couch, blanket around her knees, phone balanced loosely in her hand. The TV played something half-forgotten, just background noise to the quiet.

From the kitchen came the soft rhythm of knives against the cutting board, the hiss of oil on a pan. Myunggi was humming to himself—low, distracted—as if everything between them was a normal as it should be.

Her phone suddenly buzzed, a DM request.

The username was generic—random numbers, no profile picture. For a second she thought about ignoring it. But the bar blinked again, and curiosity got the better of her. She tapped the notification.

“I think you should know.”

Then the attachments rolled in.

Her thumb hesitated over the screen as image after image loaded—grainy but unmistakable. Myunggi at a bus stop, standing too close to someone, his arm angled like it meant to linger.

Another picture: a café, Myunggi's eyes lowered to the menu, one hand supporting his face, elbow propped on the table. His other hand brushed lightly against someone else’s, his head tilted down with a softness Junhee hadn't seen in weeks.

She didn’t look at the hand so much as the sleeve in front of it, fabric she recognized in an instant—the hoodie she’d spotted only two days ago, now caught in the frame with Myunggi.

Then a video. Her heart skipped painfully as she pressed play. Myunggi was wearing the same clothes from the image—at the same café from before.

It was brief, just a moment—a laugh, Myunggi’s pearly whites clear as day before his smile faltered into words: “Junhee doesn’t have to know.” The clip cut right after, ending on the other person’s soft reply: “She won’t.”

And then, a cropped screenshot of a text thread:

myunggi: junhee’s gone out for laundry. i feel it’s better if you come over to mine instead

???: is this a challenge? i’m down

myunggi: don’t get too excited. she’s only gonna be gone for a few hours

???: sounds just enough for a quickie. don’t you think?

myunggi: you’re impossible.

Her stomach dropped. She blinked, willing the words to blur into something else, anything else.

It can’t be real. It can’t—

But the ache in her chest told her she recognized it. The lies tucked between Myunggi's late returns, the vague excuses, the silences she had brushed off as stress.

The kitchen light clicked off. Footsteps padded across the floor.

Junhee didn’t move. Her fingers were clenched so tightly around her phone that edges bit into her skin.

Myunggi appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He looked soft, ordinary. A guy making dinner for them both, hair mussed from the steam, his expression easy until his gaze met hers.

“Dinner’ll be ready soon,” He said lightly, voice laced with domestic ease. Then he paused, the tension in her face must have given her away, because his smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”

Her throat was sandpaper. She lifted her phone and showed the screen toward him, her voice breaking. “What is all of this, Myunggi?”

He froze. His eyes darted to the images, the video still paused mid-frame, the text cropped just enough to wound.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of the TV. Then Myunggi inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening.

“Junhee. That isn’t what—”

“No,” She snapped, her voice trembling as much from hurt as from fury. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

Myunggi set the dish towel down too carefully, like any sudden move might shatter something already fractured. “It’s not— It’s not what you think. Those pictures, that video—”

“Then what are they?” Junhee’s voice cracked on the last word, raw. “You laughing, leaning into someone else, sneaking around? You telling them to come over while I was out, telling them I don’t need to know? What the hell is that, Myunggi?”

His mouth opened, then closed again. His gaze flickered toward the phone like he wanted to snatch it away, hide it, erase it all.

Finally, he said, almost pleading, “It’s not… it’s not like that. Whoever sent you that— they don’t know the whole story.”

Her laugh was hollow, jagged. “Oh, the whole story? You mean there’s more? What, were you rehearsing for some kind of play? Acting out intimacy with someone else while I sat here waiting for you to come home?”

His tone snapped, defensive now. “Don’t twist it—”

“Twist it?” She surged to her feet, tears stinging her eyes. “You’re the one who’s been twisting everything. All those late nights, the excuses, you pushing me away— God, I thought I was paranoid. I thought it was me, but no.”

Her breath hitched when she paused, chest heaving. “It was you. It was you all along.” Her voice softened, as if she was already too tired to be yell.

Myunggi flinched, words caught in his throat. His face flickered with something—shame, maybe, or regret—but it hardened almost instantly, his pride refusing to let him bend.

“You don’t understand,” He muttered.

“Don’t understand?” She echoed, a bitter chuckle escaped her. “Then make me understand. Who is he? Some random? Or was it easier for you to throw everything we had just because you got bored?”

That struck a nerve. His voice rose, sharp and defensive. “Yeah. Maybe I did got bored.”

“Don’t make it sound like you’ve been perfect either. You think I don’t notice the way you act around Semi? The way you’d ask me days before you go out with her? You sleeping at her place?”

Junhee stilled. She didn’t cut him off this time. Suddenly, her eyes struggled to hold his gaze, her thoughts drifting back to that blurry night with Semi—drunken confessions spilling into something heated.

“Why do you care about me and Semi so much?” Her voice shook, lips trembling, the words sharp with hurt. It felt as if she’d been caught, even if nothing had been proven. Tears welled in her eyes.

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Myunggi opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His shoulders slumped, eyes darting away.

Junhee reeled. “You’re the one who cheated, Myunggi. Why should I be the one to take the blame?”

Myunggi didn't answer, as if afraid he'd only make things worse if he did. His gaze dropped to the floor, fingers tightening around the hem of his sleeve, holding back words that refused to come.

Junhee's chest heaved. The air smelled faintly of burnt garlic from whatever Myunggi had been cooking, but all she could taste was the bitterness in her mouth.

She didn't reach for the clothes folded on the couch or the makeup scattered across the vanity table. Just her phone that’s still warm from her grip, her wallet, her bag, and her keys by the door.

Myunggi stood in the kitchen doorway, hands limp at his sides. His lips parted like he wanted to say something—explain, apologize, beg—but nothing came out.

“I trusted you, Myunggi.” Junhee said quietly, her voice trembling, too raw for anger now. “I had all my trust in you.”

She slipped on her shoes, fumbling with the laces.

“Junhee, wait—” Myunggi finally managed, stepping forward. His face looked pale in the glow of the kitchen light, and for a fleeting second she almost saw the boy she used to love. But the weight of the images on her phone crushed the moment before it could breathe.

Her hand lingered on the doorknob. She didn't look back when she whispered, “If I stay here any longer, I’ll start hating you. And I don’t want to know what that feels like.”

The click of the door closing behind her was louder than his silence.

 

 

 

Junhee didn’t know exactly where she was headed.

Her bag swung heavily against her shoulder, filled only with the barest essentials she had thrown together in the rush to get out—phone, wallet, keys, and a familiar hoodie of someone who had been lingering in her mind.

The rest of her life was still back in the apartment with Myunggi, and the thought of it make her chest ache like something was tearing from the inside.

She walked fast, head down, the blur of streetlights streaking past as if the world had nothing to do with her tonight. Her heart was still beating in the echo of his voice, their argument replaying like a jagged loop:

You don’t understand. Whoever sent you that, they don’t know the whole story. You think I don’t see the way you act around Semi—

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking it off before it consumed her.

Her feet carried her without her realizing, each turn made on autopilot. She wasn’t thinking about destinations, wasn’t thinking at all.

She only knew that stopping meant feeling, and she couldn’t—not yet. Not when her throat was raw from words she didn’t get to say, not when her hands still shook from holding the truth in her phone.

By the time she lifted her head, she was standing in front of a door she recognized—Semi’s.

The sight punched the air out of her lungs. She blinked, once, then twice. She hadn’t realized she wasn’t meant to come here. God, she hadn’t even thought of it—hadn’t allowed herself to. Yet here she was.

Her knuckles rapped against the door before she could stop herself. Once, twice—harder the third time, as if urgency could justify her being here.

She almost bolted, turned on her heel with her apologies already forming, when the lock clicked and the door creaked open.

“Junhee?”

Semi’s voice was startled, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her—Junhee hunched under the weight of her hand, her face blotched red from tears, her mouth working soundlessly.

Semi looked like she’d just been lounging at home, hair messy, oversized shirt slung carelessly past one of her shoulders. The domesticity of it cut Junhee even deeper.

Her breath hitched, words spilling in broken fragments. “Semi,” Her name was the first thing Junhee could muster before she broke down.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I know I shouldn’t be here. I said so many awful things about you, that day. I accused you, and I—” Junhee’s voice fractured into a sob, hands shaking as she pressed her hands into them, trying to disappear.

Something in Semi’s expression shifted. The surprise softened into something steadier, gentler, like she had pushed away her own questions for now.

“Hey,” Semi murmured, stepping forward, reaching without any hesitation. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Junhee’s knees gave before she realized she was falling, collapsing against Semi’s chest. Her sobs broke open, ugly and raw, and Semi’s arms came up instantly, holding her close, one firm hand at the back of her head.

“It’s alright.” Semi whispered, steering her gently, closing the door behind them. “You don’t have to explain yourself. Just… breathe. I’m here for you.”

Junhee let herself be guided to the couch, sinking into it as though her body had finally given up.

Her fingers clutched at Semi's sleeve, unwilling to let go, and for the first time since the argument, she let herself collapse completely—her tears spilling into the quiet, Semi's warmth anchoring her in place.

She trusts me, Semi realized, heart tightening. Me—of all people, for comfort?

A hundred questions raced through Semi’s mind. Her gaze softening toward Junhee. Almost without thinking, her fingers found Junhee’s, and Junhee seized it immediately—as if that single touch was the only thing that was keeping her from falling apart.

Junhee buried her face into Semi’s shoulder, her heart stubbornly clinging to both guilt and relief. She let the quiet hum of the apartment and Semi’s steady presence wash over her.

And maybe, just for a moment, that was enough.

 

 

 

The apartment felt suffocatingly empty after she left. The faint clatter of dishes in the sink, her favorite mug lying on the dish rack—everything mocked him with her absence.

Myunggi had been pacing for what felt like hours, phone glued to his hand, each unanswered call carving deeper into his chest.

Once, twice, thrice. By the sixth, his throat ached from muttering her name under his breath, pleading as though she could hear him.

“Junhee, come on. Please. Just… just pick up.”

Each time the like cut to silence, he pressed his phone harder into his palm as if the force alone could make her voice to break through. But, nothing. No answers, no texts. Just deafening silence.

He dragged a trembling hand through his hair, pacing tighter circles, heart hammering with panic and something that felt dangerously close to regret.

He didn’t know if he wanted to explain or beg, if he even had the right anymore. He only knew her silence was unbearable.

Finally, his thumb slipped from her name, hovering mid-air. The screen blurred for a moment, his vision stinging. He knew another call would change nothing, she wasn’t going to pick up.

Swallowing hard, he scrolled down. Another name glared at him, one he’d told himself he wouldn’t press—not now, not after everything.

Subong.

His chest tightened, hesitation clawing at him. This wasn’t right, calling him now was proof of something he didn't want to admit.

Even so, the loneliness in the room pressed too hard against his ribs. Against his better judgment, his thumb pressed the call.

The dial tone rang once, twice, three times.

And then—

“Myunggi?” Subong's voice was low, cautious, almost like he'd been expecting the call.

Myunggi sank onto the edge of the couch, free hand gripping his knee so tightly his knuckles whitened.

“…You picked up,” He murmured, relief bled into his voice, as though it was Junhee on the other end instead of Subong.

“Of course I did,” Subong replied, his voice softer now. A beat passed, and in that silence Myunggi realized just how badly he’d needed someone—anyone, to answer.

His head dropped into his hand, the words spilling out before he could cage them.

“…Junhee. She found out. She left as soon as she did.”

Silence stretched, as though Subong was processing what Myunggi had just said.

“…Oh.” Subong murmured through the phone, the tone in his voice caught between feigned surprise and resignation. “Well, shouldn’t you be glad?”

Myunggi’s eyebrows immediately furrowed. He was anything but glad. “Are you serious? Didn’t you hear? She left. And a part of me tells me she stopped at Semi’s. Like she always does.” He muttered out the last words.

“Maybe she did.” Subong replied easily, almost too casually. “What, did you really expect her to stay after finding out? And how’d she even find out, anyway?”

“I… I don’t know,” Myunggi muttered, voice low. “Someone just sent her a DM. Pictures, a video and a screenshotted message, of us,”

Silence returned, settling over them like a weight. Then, after a beat or two: “Want me to come over?” As if Subong already knew that was what Myunggi had been waiting to hear. His voice carried teasing lilt tease that Myunggi had always recognized.

Unsurprisingly, Myunggi nodded against the phone beside his ear, as though Subong was already there. “Yeah. Sure. That’ll help.” His voice sounded thin, even to his own ears.

On the other end, Subong hummed. “I’ll be on my way, then.” A faint laugh cracked softly through the line, low and knowing, and for a fleeting second Myunggi almost convinced himself it was enough.

 

 

 

They started from the couch. Junhee had collapsed there first thing, the weight of the world pressed into her shoulders.

Semi didn’t push, didn’t ask questions—she just sat close enough for Junhee to feel her presence, her hand hovering near, just enough to mentally notify Junhee that she was there with her.

The words came out jagged, one after another. About Myunggi, about the messages, the pictures, the way she had stood frozen with her phone in her hand while her entire world titled sideways.

Her voice cracked, rose, fell, spiraled into rage and then into silence. By the time she ran dry, she was curled against the armrest, hollowed out.

Semi only murmured soft things in response, letting the silence swell without trying to patch it.

At some point, Junhee couldn't remember how or when—they moved.

Maybe Semi had suggested lying down, maybe Junhee herself had wanted to escape the bright light of the living room.

All she knew was that she was now on Semi's bed, the covers tugged up around her. The bed she swore she'd never touch again. And yet, here she was.

For a while, it was quiet, too quiet. Until Junhee reached for her phone out of reflex. The screen lit up, eleven missed calls. Her chest tightened.

“You don’t have to call him back.” Semi’s voice came low, gentle, from beside her.

Junhee chewed her lower lip, thumb trembling over the screen. “But…”

“He isn’t worth it, Junhee.” Semi’s tone had that firmness underneath, the kind Junhee could lean on if she wanted to. “You already know what he’s like. Everything he’ll say when you do won’t save anything.”

Junhee let the phone drop onto the comforter. The silence that followed felt heavier than anything.

The word cracked something open in her. Her chest rose and fell too fast, tears welling again as she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes.

“I just— I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m breaking apart, Semi. Everything hurts. I can’t stop worrying about him. I hate him, I love him, I hate that I love him and—” Her voice broke. She turned, clutching at Semi's wrist as if for anchor.

Then, without warning, Junhee leaned in. Her lips found Semi's—careful, fragile, like testing the strength of glass that could shatter at any second.

Semi froze, her chest tightening. The kiss wasn't hungry—it was pleading. It was the kind of touch that asked for comfort, not passion.

Junhee pulled back just enough to search Semi's face, her own lips parted, her breath shaky. Her voice cracked as the words slipped out, soft, almost broken:

“Semi. Can you… can you help me forget about him? Please. Just for tonight.”

The request shattered something in the air. Semi's heart kicked hard against her ribs, her throat tightening.

The memory of that night came back in a rush—the guilt, the way Junhee had walked away, swearing she'd never come back. And now here she was, asking again, looking at her like she was the only lifeline left.

Semi's hand hovered in the space between them, uncertain. She wanted to say no. She wanted to stop this before it became another scar.

But Junhee's eyes glistened, her plea cutting straight through the hesitation.

Semi exhaled, the sound more like surrender than agreement. “Junhee, I… are you sure?”

Junhee nodded, clutching Semi’s hands as if she was afraid she’d slip away. “I’m sure.” She whispered. “Please.”

And this time, when their lips met again, softer this time.

Semi’s hand brushing Junhee’s hair back from her damp cheeks, each press of her lips felt like a gentle promise.

When Junhee broke away, her breathing was shaky. “I don’t… I don’t want to think about him anymore.”

Semi’s breath hitched. She hesitated, then cupped Junhee’s cheek with a thumb stroking the tear-stained skin. “You don’t have to. Just focus on me.”

Junhee nodded, almost childlike in her trust.

They moved together carefully, Semi easing her down onto the pillows. She stayed close, her kisses never straying away from Junhee’s mouth, her temple, her jaw—all gentle reminders that she wasn’t abandoned, that she was held.

Semi’s hand eventually slipped slower, slow and cautious, resting first against Junhee’s hips, giving her the chance to stop her.

But when Junhee whispered out, “Please,” Semi finally let her hand drift down, feeling a familiar fabric underneath before rubbing in careful circles.

The massage was slow, unhurried, nothing like passion. Semi focused on easing Junhee into comfort, coaxing her body to let go of the hurt she couldn't silence in her mind.

Junhee gasped quietly, her breath catching, “Semi—” but Semi only answered with more soft kisses at her hairline, her jaw, the corner of her lips—never demanding, always assuring.

When release finally overtook her, it wasn't with intensity but with relief, her whole body sagging in Semi's arms.

Junhee let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut. Semi held her carefully, brushing stray strands of hair from her face, whispering, “It's okay… I’ve got you.”

For a moment Semi thought she'd fallen asleep right there, but then Junhee stirred faintly, her lashes heavy with drowsiness. Semi, still trembling herself, coaxed her gently upright.

“Hey,” She whispered, stroking her cheek. “Just for a moment, go to the bathroom first, alright? You’ll feel better.”

Junhee, dazed and pliant, nodded weakly. Semi helped her to her feet, steadying her when her knees nearly gave.

By the time Junhee returned, she was barely holding herself together, and Semi guided her back into bed, tucking the blanket around her.

Junhee curled instinctively toward her, already slipping into sleep. Semi lay beside her, brushing her knuckles lightly down her arm.

She stayed awake long after Junhee's breathing steadied, her chest heavy with something unspoken, something she couldn't name.

Because this isn’t what she had planned, not tonight, not like this.

And a part of her tells her that this was a setup of Subong’s.

 

 

 

The apartment was dim except for the glow from the streetlamps bleeding faintly through the curtains.

Myunggi slumped against him on the couch, his weight heavy and unguarded, as though exhaustion had finally stripped him down to something bare. His lashes dragged low, his breathing uneven, but he still fought to keep his eyes open.

“Shh,” Subong murmured, smoothing a hand through his hair. “Just sleep. You’ve done enough tonight.”

It didn’t take much more—Myunggi’s body softened, his head tipping against Subong’s shoulder. The tension left his features in increments until the only thing that remained was that fragile rhythm of breath.

Subong watched him for a long moment, his lips pressing into something that wasn't quite a smile.

The quiet stretched, filled only by the hum of the fridge in the kitchen. Then, a vibration buzzed through the coffee table. Subong reached lazily for his phone, angling it away from Myunggi's sleeping face as he unlocked the screen.

A single notification, from Semi.

semi: earlier i found junhee at my front door. was this your doing?

His gaze lingered on the words, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. For a heartbeat, he almost let the silence answer for him. But then, with the faintest curl of amusement tugging at his mouth, he typed back:

thanos: whose else? i’m a man of my words, aren’t i?

The message sent, the conversation bar blinked in silence.

The typing bubbles appeared almost instantly, then vanished. Reappeared. Stopped again.

Finally, the screen lit up with her response.

semi: you’re sick.

Subong's eyes lingered on it, unbothered, his thumb brushing over the screen like the words meant less than dust.

With a faint exhale that could almost be mistaken for laughter, he locked the phone and set it facedown.

Myunggi stirred faintly in his sleep, pressing closer into Subong's side. Subong tightened his hold without thinking, his gaze flicking once more to the ceiling, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

His eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, waiting for whatever would come next.

 

 

 

Notes:

hshshshhash thank you for reaching this far if you have🥹🫰🫰

title is from girl in red’s ‘midnight love’ if anyone’s wondering!

any thoughts on this chapter? lemme know in the comments!

kudos & comments are much appreciated!❤️

Chapter 6: Where she chose to stay

 

---

 

Semi woke up first, feeling warmth against her side.

For a moment, half-dreaming, she thought it was just the sun catching the blanket wrong. Then she shifted, and the outline of a body registered, the faint weight pressed into the mattress beside her.

Junhee.

For a few long seconds, she stayed still, listening to the slow, steady breaths at her shoulder.

The lightly bleached ends of Junhee’s hair brushed against Semi’s arm, strands mussed, bangs slipping to the side. The comforter veiled half of her face, leaving her looking impossibly soft in the dim light.

Semi’s gaze lingered on her face for a beat longer as her chest tightened. Junhee was there—really there, still asleep, her breathing steady and soft.

Semi lay frozen in place, drinking in the sight she knew she shouldn't. The temptation to stay was sharp, dangerous. To close her eyes again, to imagine this was something ordinary—that Junhee had chosen her, had meant it.

But ordinary wasn’t theirs. Semi knew too much. Junhee would wake up, regret everything about last night, and this moment would vanish like it had never been.

It didn’t take long before Semi’s fingers drifted to Junhee’s bangs, brushing them back as if they hadn’t already been swept to the side. Junhee didn’t stirred.

Eventually she eased herself away by inches, holding her breath when the mattress dipped. Junhee shifted faintly, curling closer into the sheets, but didn’t wake.

Semi sat at the edge of the bed for a long moment, her bare feet on the cold floor with her hands braced against her knees.

She’ll open her eyes, remember, and hate me for letting it happen. That’s how it ends.

The thought clung to her, refusing to let go. Still, she couldn't leave without one last look. She turned, and the sight of Junhee—peaceful, untouched by regret yet—nearly undid her resolve.

Finally, she pushed herself up and slipped out. The bedroom door clicked shut behind her, muffling the rhythm of Junhee’s breathing.

Semi drifted to the kitchen, though the silence didn’t help either. She busied herself with the kettle, opening cupboards, closing them again without taking anything out.

Her hands worked as if they knew what to do, but her mind ran in circles.

She’ll regret it. She’ll hate me. And then this will just be another fleeting moment.

Her hand stilled on the cabinet handle when her eyes caught a flash of purple inside—sweet potatoes.

She remembered Junhee picking them out at a store—once, maybe twice, maybe countless times—and the faint smile she gave when Semi teased her for eating them plain.

Semi hesitated, fingers brushing over the skin of one. It was a small thing, nothing that could undo what had already happened. But maybe it could show something—her intentions, her care, however useless it may seemed.

She set the sweet potatoes in a separate bowl and slid it into the microwave.

The hum of the microwave was the only thing heard in the quiet kitchen after she pressed the start button. Semi leaned against the counter.

Within minutes, the sweet potatoes were warm against Semi's fingers as she set them on the counter, the heat lingering near her hand.

That was when she heard it: the creak of the bedroom door. Footsteps followed, light and dragging across the floor.

Junhee appeared in the doorway, hair mussed, eyes still heavy with sleep. She found Semi almost instantly.

And the sight of her standing there. Junhee, awake, here—scattered all of Semi's rehearsed defenses.

Junhee stood by the kitchen doorway, hair a little messy, eyes heavy with sleep but clearer than Semi expected. “Morning…” She muttered, knuckles pressed against one eye in a sluggish rub.

Semi swallowed and forced her voice into something steady. “Morning. Did you sleep okay?”

Junhee blinked blankly, then gave the faintest nod. “Mm. I did.”

The answer loosened the tightness in Semi’s chest. She turned back to the counter quickly, afraid her relief might show too much. Her words came out a little rushed.

“I don’t really have much for breakfast. Just… sweet potatoes. You still like those, right?”

Junhee blinked again, eyes intrigued and determined this time. Then, the corner of her mouth curled up into a faint smile.

“You remembered.” She crossed to the table, pulling out a chair like this was any ordinary morning.

Something softened in Semi’s chest by Junhee’s remark. She mirrored Junhee’s smile, though it appeared rather more sheepish as she pressed her lips together. “Of course.“

Semi tried not to stare too hard as Junhee sat down, tucking her knees up a little, as if she’d always belonged there, as if this wasn’t new.

Semi watched as Junhee peeled one slowly, before taking a bite, humming softly as the sweetness melted on her tongue. “It’s good,” She said, simple and certain.

Semi nodded, a soft smile etched on her face, though her palms still itched with nerves. She sat across from her, watching Junhee chew, sip water from the glass Semi brought her, tuck her hair behind her ear as though they'd shared countless mornings like this.

And for a fleeting second, Semi almost let herself believe it. That this was normal. That they could stay here, untouched by the weight of last night.

But then Junhee spoke again, her voice laced with a casualness that made Semi wavered. “About last night…”

Semi's breath hitched. She braced herself for a wince, a regret, something to confirm the storm she'd been replaying in her head since she woke.

But Junhee only smiled faintly, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. “it wasn’t so bad.”

The words slipped out of her as casually as if she were talking about the weather, yet they landed heavy in Semi's chest.

Semi blinked, searching her face for hesitation, for anything that hinted Junhee was just being polite.

There was none. Junhee just kept eating, unbothered, like waking up in Semi's bed and sharing breakfast now was the most natural thing in the world.

Semi let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her lips parting like she wanted to say something—anything, to fill the silence. Instead, she pushed the sweet potato closer to Junhee's side of the table, muttering, “You can have more if you want.”

Junhee glanced at her, eyes bright but unreadable. “Thanks.”

The air settled into a quiet that wasn't quite normal but wasn't suffocating either—something delicate, in-between.

 

 

 

The sun grew unbearable overtime, its light seeping through the blinds and dragging Myunggi out of uneasy sleep.

He groaned and rolled away from the window, tugging the blanket higher like he could bury himself out of morning entirely.

When his eyes finally cracked open, Subong was already awake beside him—elbow sunk into the pillow, cheek resting lazily on his upper arm. He looked like he’d been watching him for a while, watching him with that unreadable, almost too-soft expression.

When Myunggi registered, he let out a groan, caught between acknowledgment and disturbance, half muffled by the pillow over his mouth. “Mmm…”

Subong sighed, his smile deepening. “Morning. Been sleeping well?”

Myunggi’s eyes fluttered open again, though still heavy with sleep. “How long have you been watching me sleep?” He rasped, ignoring Subong’s question.

“Long enough,” Subong drawled, unbothered that his earlier question had gone unanswered. His cheek still pressed lazily to his arm. “You drooled a bit, too.” He teased as he tried to resist a grin, the one Myunggi always swore he hated.

Suddenly, Myunggi became aware of the slight wetness below the corner of his mouth. He clicked his tongue and swiped it off, nudging Subong in annoyance as he tried to roll to the other side. “Shut up.”

Subong only laughed at the shove, hardly budging. “Someone’s grumpy,” He murmured, letting his hand settle back over Myunggi’s waist as if the nudge hadn’t happened at all.

Myunggi’s sulking failed as he shifted back to face Subong. “Then stop watching me sleep and I won’t be,” He muttered, voice too low and tired for much banter.

“I still want to. I like it when you’re grumpy.” Subong retorted, voice low with amusement as his fingers drummed idly against Myunggi’s side.

It should’ve felt light, but Myunggi’s thoughts snagged against the jagged edges of last night. He could still see the slight shimmer in Junhee’s eyes when she showed him the pictures, hear the way her voice cracked when she said she was leaving.

The scene kept bleeding into the memory of Subong's words when he called him: What, did you really expect her to stay after finding out?

He didn’t know why it stuck with him, but it did—lodged like a splinter he couldn’t ignore.

It was almost as if Subong knew everything—Junhee’s whereabouts, her relationship with Semi, and her feelings for her.

Silence soon stretched, his gaze lingered on the sheets, not daring to glance at Subong.

“I just…” He trailed, throat suddenly tight, staring at the folds of the blanket. “I don’t want to think about last night.”

Subong hummed as if he hadn’t heard the weight in his voice. “Then don’t. Easy.” He said, his hand drifting up to brush a few strands of Myunggi’s bangs from his forehead, the gesture gentle and delicate as though he were handling glass.

It wasn’t easy. But Myunggi knew Subong would get upset if he talked about Junhee too much. Subong’s eyes were soft on him, he almost felt sorry to protest.

Myunggi let out a tired sigh. “I also don't want to cook today. Let's just order takeout.”

The corner of Subong’s mouth curled upwards. “Takeouts it is.”

Myunggi hummed, tone resigned.

For a moment, it almost felt normal—their banter, the quiet of the morning—but the weight in Myunggi’s chest didn’t lift. Even with Subong this close, Junhee lingered at the edges of his thoughts, stubborn and unshakable.

And worse than that, so did the way Subong had said it—like he knew more than he should.

 

 

 

The hours slipped past quietly, the kind of silence that didn’t feel heavy but softened the edges of the day.

By the time afternoon had settled in, the sun had angled lower, its light spilling through Semi’s curtains in hazy streaks that warmed the room.

The air was slow and still, touched faintly with the earthy sweetness of the microwaved sweet potatoes they’d shared that morning.

Junhee was curled up on the couch, hugging one of Semi’s throw pillows to her chest. Her voice came softer now, like the lull of the afternoon had worn her down.

Junhee shifted against the pillow, her voice muffled. “The smell's still in the air. From breakfast.”

Semi glanced toward the kitchen. “You mean the sweet potatoes?”

Junhee gave a small hum, eyes half-lidded. “Mm. It was… comforting, somehow.”

Semi smiled faintly. “Comforting? That's a funny way to put it. They're just easy. Microwave, peel, done. Nothing special.” Her voice came out teasing, but there was a trace of something more softer, more intimate underneath.

“But still,” Junhee murmured, “I don't even remember the last time I had breakfast without rushing. Or the last time I ate something warm without thinking about everything I have to keep together, or Myunggi.” the name slipped out quieter than the rest, followed by a sigh.

Semi glanced at her. In the mellow light, Junhee's face looked softer than it had last night—less brittle, though weighed down by exhaustion. Her lashes kept fluttering, like sleep was pulling her under.

“You're going to knock out on my couch if you keep talking like that,” Semi teased lightly.

“Mm. Maybe,” Junhee said, already sinking deeper into the cushions. “Don't mind me.”

Within minutes, her breaths evened out. Semi sat beside her in the quiet, letting the stillness stretch until her phone buzzed against her palm.

A new message blinked across the screen.

thanos: you still mad?

Semi frowned, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Mad? She replied back quickly.

semi: about what? last night?

She hesitated, then followed with another text.

semi: why would i be?

The reply came almost instantly.

thanos: exactly. i did you a favor

Semi scoffed quietly, shifting her grip on the phone. For a moment she considered not answering—letting him stew in his own smugness. But the words itched at her, demanding a response.

semi: that’s total bs. you know you set this up.

Her screen lit again before she even had time to set it down.

thanos: yet you still went with it.

thanos: doesn’t it feel nice tho? feeling junhee curled up against you again?

Semi’s jaw tightened. She stared at the last message longer than she meant to, because it did felt nice—Junhee had chosen her over Myunggi, and she was glad about it, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Her eyes flicked to the couch, where Junhee lay curled up, breathing evenly, oblivious to the tug-of-war running through Semi’s phone.

Before she could fire back, another message appeared.

thanos: so, how was she last night?

For a moment, Semi’s fingers stilled, hovering over the keyboard. Irritation giving away to something else—something smaller, more careful. She typed slower this time.

semi: tired, worn out. kept looking at the missed calls from myunggi.

semi: but calmer once she was here.

She stopped there, the rest of it pressed down hard—Junhee’s shaky voice asking her to help her forget, her fingers clutching like she’d drown without it. Those words stayed locked in her throat.

thanos: figured. you’ve got that effect on people

Semi pressed her lips together at the screen, unsure if it was mockery or something closer to truth. She let the pause stretch before replying, irritation seeping back in like armor.

semi: ugh, you’re still annoying as ever.

thanos: a thank you would be nice

Semi’s thumb hovered again. Her gaze drifted to Junhee’s sleeping face, softened by the fading sunlight. For a heartbeat, she almost faltered—almost admitted that maybe, just maybe, she owed him one.

Instead, she sent:

semi: whatever.

thanos: you’re welcome.

The screen dimmed. Semi set the phone down, staring at it a moment longer before leaning back into the couch. The quiet of the room folded back around her, but the earlier ease had slipped.

The taste of sweet potatoes lingered faintly at the back of her throat, soured now by the sharp edge of Subong's voice clinging to her thoughts.

 

Miles away, that same voice hummed with amusement. Subong flicked his own screen dark and let it drop onto the cushion beside him.

The last message still glowed faintly at the back of his mind. It left him smiling to himself, the kind of grin that lingered like he'd pulled a silly trick no one else could see.

He stretched out across the couch, folding his arms behind his head, humming under his breath.

The apartment was quiet except for the faint splash of water from the bathroom. He tilted his head back, eyelids heavy, just waiting.

Sure enough, Myunggi padded back into the room a moment later, toweling off his hands and dragging damp hair away from his forehead.

His gaze landed briefly on the phone before returning to Subong. “What were you doing?”

Subong glanced down at the screen, thumb brushing it dark before he set it face-down on the couch cushion “Texting,” He said easily, like it wasn't worth another word.

Myunggi leaned forward, absentmindedly rearranging the mess of coasters on the table. He glanced over his shoulder. “Who?”

Subong let the pause strech, then tossed the name out casually, like it barely meant anything. “Namsu.”

The shift in Myunggi’s expression was immediate. That faint, involuntary grimace—just enough to make Subong’s grin widen. “Oh.”

A sigh slipped from Subong, light enough to pass for a laugh. “You’re still hung up on him, huh?” He mused.

“I don’t care about him,” Myunggi muttered. He abandoned the table and dropped onto the couch with more force than necessary.

“Mm. Sure,” Subong said, eyes glinting. He stretched one arm along the backrest, leaning into him. “Would you be mad if it really was him?”

The space between Myunggi’s brows creased, his mouth pulling to a frown as he shot Subong a glare. His ears were already tinged pink. “Why would I?”

“No reason.” Subong said without context, voice unhurried as his grin lingered. “Just thought it’d be funny. You never liked him.”

“That’s because you don’t even get his name right,” Myunggi retorted, his tone sharp but softened by the faint pink at his ears.

The way Subong’s grin stretched was unapologetic, as if Myunggi’s remark made him feel like he’d won something. “Same thing. It wouldn’t matter, he answers to both.”

All Subong got in return was Myunggi's eye roll, slow and deliberate. “Yeah. Most of the time he only ever corrects you about it.” He deadpanned, voice low but not entirely without warmth.

Subong let out another breath—firmer this time, deliberate, carrying the shape of a laugh.

“Mm. Really got tired of that,” He murmured, his gaze drifting off for a moment before returning to Myunggi. “That's why I prefer you more.” His tone was quieter now, almost gentle.

Subong’s gaze caught Myunggi’s, just for a moment before Myunggi turned his head away in an instant. “Whatever.”

Subong blinked, brows raised leisurely. “Hey. At least now you can say the same for Junhee,” He said, voice casual but his eyes stayed fixed on Myunggi. “You definitely prefer me over her.”

For a heartbeat, Myunggi faltered, Junhee's name twisted at the edge of his thoughts, but he shoved it down, letting the irritation take its place.

“You’re insufferable.” He said, his eyes narrowing as if he could still hide the crack in his chest.

“Uh-huh,” Subong sang, satisfaction laced through the two syllables. He let it go, sinking further into the couch, though the smug grin stayed firmly in place.

The room softened around them after that. Myunggi soon busied himself straightening a few things that didn't need straightening, while Subong lounged, lazily watching him with a grin that never quite left his face.

He didn't need to press further; he'd already gotten what he wanted—the scowl, the faint blush, the little confirmation that Myunggi's attention was his.

And with the secret hum of his earlier conversation still buzzing quietly on the cushion, Subong let the moment settle, basking in how simple it all felt: Myunggi here, easy to tease, easy to keep close.

 

 

 

Night had settled fully now, drawing itself over the room like a heavy curtain, the last streaks of sunlight fading into muted blue.

The room had grown hushed, the kind of quiet that pressed softly against the walls.

The lamp on the desk cast a muted gold over the sheets, enough to catch the tired curve of Semi's smile as she shifted against the headboard.

Junhee tugged at the hem of the oversized T-shirt she wore, fingers brushing the cotton as though she'd only just noticed. “Thanks,” She murmured, almost sheepish. “for letting me borrow your clothes. I didn't exactly think, or had time to pack when I… left.”

Semi’s gaze flickered down, then back to her. “They suit you.” Her voice was low, drowsy, but not unkind.

Junhee rolled onto her side, cheek pressed against the pillow. “They’re too big.”

“Better too big than too small.” Semi mumbled, a faint laugh slipping out, though it softened into something else.

Her eyelids drooped, lashes grazing her cheeks, but she forced them open. “I still can’t believe you wanted to stay here another night.”

Junhee blinked up at her. “Why?”

“You could’ve gone back. Or anywhere else.” Semi's words slurred slightly at the edges, half-sinking already into sleep. “But… you didn't.”

Junhee didn't answer right away. She watched Semi's breathing even out, her body slackening as though the question had been asked only for Junhee to hold onto.

She thought of Myunggi—his voice cracking with anger, the sharp slam of the door behind her. The way her phone lit up with his name again and again until she couldn't bear to look at it anymore.

Was he still calling now? Or had he already decided to stop? The idea of him moving on, even in anger, gnawed worse than the thought of him stewing alone.

Finally, in a voice barely louder than the hum of the lamp, Junhee said, “It’s easier here.” The words came out honest, stripped bare in the quiet.

Semi made a soft, indistinct sound, already caught in the pull of sleep.

Junhee turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. She should’ve been relieved, comforted. Yet Myunggi lingered sharp in her thoughts, as though part of her had been left behind with him no matter how far she tried to run.

Another night here—was she just buying herself borrowed time? Or daring him to notice she was gone?

Her gaze shifted back to Semi, who was slackened against the headboard, lips parted in even breaths. Peaceful in a way Junhee couldn't reach.

Junhee shifted closer, her shoulder brushing the edge of Semi's arm, careful not to wake her.

The warmth of the room, the hush of Semi's breathing, the ease of borrowed clothes—it should have been enough to quiet her.

But Myunggi’s face lingered anyway, sharp and unyielding in the dark.

She shut her eyes and pulled the blanket tighter, telling herself that tomorrow she would decide—whether to go back, to explain, to fight again. Tonight, she would stay.

The thought steadied her just enough. For now, she let the stillness hold her, though somewhere in the quiet, his shadow followed close.

 

 

 

Notes:

so sorry if this chapter feels repetitive, and more like a filler! :( the next chapters are gonna be more interesting trust🥹

thank you for reaching this far if you have. kudos & comments are much appreciated!❤️