Hi Yall

hi yall

does anybody recommend any stray kids writers? ive recently joined the fandom and really wanna read some good ffs with the boys 🥰

it's a holiday in brazil today and I took the day off to write ~

earlier today I had great ideas for a dialogue I was stuck but I didn't write them down and now I forgot 😭😭

he's so fucking beautiful but i'm so happy that i'm also in love with his mind loving him is so easy

the prettiest ♡

JHOPE ‘달려라 방탄 (Run BTS)’ Dance Practice

dancing queen, young and sweet ♡

this is literally the BEST THING I'VE READ IN MONTHS !!!!!!!!!!! I was in the edge of my seat almost the entire series and it's so well written I'M SO IN LOVE WITH THIS STORY HOW CHRIS AND MINHO'S CHARACTERS ARE DEVELOPED HERE thank you so much writer for your amazing job 🥺🫶

I even made a playlist for this series because it's SO GOOD !!! I needed soundtrack to have the whole experience that's it I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS SERIES

wedding season ♡ the forever after (reupload)

To get your forever after, you have to be honest with Minho.

⇢ pairing: minho x fem!reader ⇢ word count: 16.7k ⇢ genre: smut, angst, non-idol!au, fake dating!au, exes to lovers!au, unrequited love, love triangle, exboyfriend!minho, ex!best friend chan ⇢ warnings: 18+, minors dni! drinking, drunk sex, smut [semi-public unprotected sex, ass spank or two, use of 'good girl' and 'slut'', creampie, rejection; unprotected sex, creampie] ⇢ masterlist ♡ series masterpost ♡ updates ♡ read on AO3 ⇢ previous chapter ♡ ⇢ reblogs and feedback are always motivating and appreciated! i accidentally deleted the chapter so i'm posting again. thanks for keeping up with this story, i'd love to hear what you think about the ending! ♡ i will post ten drabbles about this couple, probably in november after kinktober ends.

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

You wait for Minho at the same bar you visited with him before the wedding, back when you first presented the stupid plan to him. Sadly, you’re just as nervous as you were back then. In fact, you might be even more nervous this time, afraid of screwing things up, afraid of losing someone you actually can't imagine your life without. Sadly, it seems like you’re going to have to do just that, considering how you two left things off.

The morning after the wedding, after a long and sleepless night, you ran to Minho’s room just before breakfast, hoping to catch him before he walked downstairs and chatted with people, before he ran away to one of his walks or met up with Seoyoon. After all, it was the last full day on the island, and you just wanted to apologize to him in person. 

It felt like the morning sobered you up completely, shook you from your state of desperation, and made you realize you have to be honest with Minho. You had told him a long time ago you didn’t like to be vulnerable in front of other people, but you knew it was time to tell him everything and put yourself out there. 

When you got to his room, it was empty, the cleaning lady already getting rid of the bedsheets.

“I’m sorry, where is the guest from this room?”

“They left this morning,” she replied and picked the sheets up off the floor. “Do you need something? If you need towels, I’ll bring them to your room when I make the rounds.”

That was when you realized that Minho had left for good. He’d packed his bags and left in the wee hours of the morning, as told to you by Sunyoung’s grandma, who was an early riser and spent early mornings out at the beach. He left without a word, and that hurt you the most. Even flat-out rejection would have been better than no closure, but you overstepped his boundaries and mentioned a relationship after everything that happened, so you had it coming.

He told you not to mention your feelings for him, but you had to say something instead of pretending nothing happened, so you texted Minho that morning after crying about it in your room.

You: i see you left early. i get why and i’m sorry, really. 

He responded five days later, even though you weren’t expecting him to—Minho didn’t owe you a single thing.

Minho: just needed time away from everything

Minho: sorry

You: do you maybe want to meet up, have a drink one of these days?

Minho: friday?

After that, you agreed on the time and place, so you’re not sure what to expect tonight. Is he upset? Is he hurt? Does he think you’re not serious about any of it? Did he have enough time to think? You don’t know a thing. 

When your ex walks into the place, that same waitress gawks at him, and you can’t blame her this time either—the white button-up suits Minho perfectly, a couple of hair strands slightly curled in a way that makes him seem almost angelic, but his smile turns into a devilish smirk when his gaze meets yours.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” Minho asks the same stupid question again, and you know he’s going to follow up with something ridiculous as he sits down. “Surely not waiting for her ex to tell him she wants to be with him again!”

Minho laughs as if that’s the dumbest possible option, but his laughter dies down the second he realizes you’re not laughing, for a change. “Wait, w-what?” he stutters before gulping, eyes inspecting your entire face.

“You really have a way of ruining the moment,” you joke, hoping that will ease the tension that suddenly arises between you two, but it does little to help. “I thought that was just me.”

The waitress approaches and Minho orders two shots and a gin and tonic for himself once he realizes your glass is still full. “We’re gonna have to drink if we’re going there,” he informs you.

It should feel awkward, it should feel heart-wrenching, you should be anxious about getting turned down again, about this man telling you he’s had enough of your scheming, childish ways, that he’s fed up with being the second best option in your book—but none of that happens.

It can’t, not when it’s Minho you’re talking to, not when he’s doing everything he can to keep the conversation light. You don’t touch on the topic for a long while, not until you’re a couple of shots and drinks in, not before his hand is on your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles into it.

“About the thing you said…” he starts, letting his voice trail off before taking another sip of his drink. Even if you’re going to talk about something this serious, you can’t be nervous, not when his hand is on you, reminding you things are fine. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” you tell him, visibly confused, but Minho misses that because he’s staring right ahead as if he’s trying not to look at you. “I just feel that way.”

“With Chris, I mean,” he adds, clearing his throat right after, and you realize he doesn’t know anything. 

Your therapist is right—you haven’t been clear about what you want and how you feel and you’ve been too stubborn instead of just admitting early on that your plan was a mistake and that Chris could never make you feel the way Minho does.

“I don’t know,” you respond with a shrug, thinking about how to put what you feel into words. What happened with you and Chris? Nothing and everything. “I didn’t, uh… I mean— He knew what I was going to tell him, but I didn’t want to say a thing. I realized he was not exactly what I was looking for and my plan wasn’t to ruin the wedding. You were right, I was clinging onto something that wasn’t really there.”

Minho hums, seemingly happy with your response. “So Chris told you he’s going through with the wedding and all.”

“Yes, he did,” you agree instantly but then realize Minho might think that’s why you told him all those things that night—Chris told you no, so you hoped Minho would say yes. “But I didn’t try to stop it. I am actually happy for them.”

“Even though I don’t like the guy, I think they make a good couple,” Minho admits unwillingly. He finally sneaks a glance your way and once again, you feel like nothing can go wrong when he’s here with you. “Have you heard from him?”

“Not really. I’ve sent him a text thanking him for everything, but that’s about it.”

“And you aren’t… Jealous over his marriage? Hurt by it?” This time, your ex faces you, eyes inspecting you carefully. You realize he’s trying to figure out how serious you are about the whole thing, which includes you being hurt over Chris’s marriage, and you are just not.

“No, Minho, I’m not,” you respond right away, meaning it. “I don’t have any interest in him. I… I’m interested in you, like I’ve told you. I meant what I said.”

That’s why you’ve invited him here in the first place not even two weeks after coming back home from Chris’s wedding. You wanted to see Minho, talk to him, tell him you still feel the same way you did the night when you approached him. Maybe it’s too soon in his book, maybe he doesn’t want you that way, maybe he is just not interested, but you want Minho to know.

He hums again, downing his drink. “I’m glad you no longer think he’s the one,” Minho tells you with a grin. “He definitely isn’t.”

“I know. I want to apologize for eve—”

You get cut off by Minho’s lips on yours, his scent instantly engulfing you, making you forget what you even wanted to tell him. His hand makes its way to your chin so he can tilt your head whichever way he pleases as he kisses you, tongue now entering your mouth.

You don’t kiss people in bars, not unless you’re wasted and lost in the crowd, especially not with tongue since it makes the kiss hungry and intimate. But, it’s Minho and he’s the most mesmerizing person you’ve met, so you don’t really care.

Once he breaks the kiss, you sigh deeply, feeling your heart fluttering, but he speaks first. “We’re drunk again, so we should talk about serious things some other time. What do you think, pretty?”

His use of the nickname makes your heart swell. Unable to suppress a smile, you look to the side and nod. “What do you want to do then?”

Minho moves the hand that is resting on your thigh and finds your own with it. He grabs it and places it over his crotch, right on top of his hard cock, which makes you hiss. He’s just as straightforward as always, just as willing to take risks, just as good of a fuck as he always was. “Maybe take care of this for me? I’ll return the favor.”

That’s a deal you’d be stupid to pass on, even at the risk of another heartbreak. Because that’s what this is—Minho letting you down easy. Neither one of you is too drunk to have sex, so you’re not too drunk to have a conversation about you two. He clearly doesn’t want to touch on the topic because he'd have to turn you down, so he changed the topic to sex.

And you being you, you’d rather take that than just say goodbye right now. You can pretend it's sex without feelings just for the night.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Minho mumbles at you when your lips start playing with his neck, his dick entering you quickly.

Your back is pressed against the wall of your building hallway, and it’s pretty cold, but you don’t even register it. You can’t, not when Minho’s fucking you well, his fingers working your clit expertly at the same time. You can’t get enough of him all over again and even the scent and taste of his skin excites you—you run your tongue along the vein on his neck and enjoy the sound of him hissing, the way his hips start smacking into yours rougher.

“Me too,” you admit, taking a break from kissing his neck, even though you know that turns him on. You’re doing everything he wants tonight, everything. Even if you’re not the best at talking about feelings, evne if Minho doesn’t want to talk about them, you can at least show him what you feel. “Missed your dick, missed this, missed you.”

“Pretty, fuck,” he grunts, kicking his head back. The look on Minho’s face is something you want to see more often—his pretty features distorted in pleasure. “Don’t say that while I’m in you.”

“Why?” you ask through a chuckle, loving the effect you have on him, even if you’re both drunk and it doesn’t mean anything. “Like it too much?”

“I like it better when you’re good,” Minho mumbles the words at you with a scoff, speeding up the pace of his hips, his fingers still rubbing your clit just right. “You talk back too much… I should go harder on you, hm?”

“I’m always good, baby,” you coo, lifting your leg even more, using it to pull his waist closer to you. “And I know you love it when I tell you how much I like you.”

To shut you up, Minho kisses you, tongue roaming around your mouth desperately as moans leave him. It’s all so hot that you don’t even know where to look and touch. Instead if trying to decide, you relax and enjoy the touch of his hand paired with his hard cock and eager mouth.

It’s only been ten minutes of this, but you come over his dick, screaming as you do since Minho rubs you just right and doesn’t stop until you push his hand away, too afraid you’ll wake the neighbors up and have to stop fucking him even for a minute or two until you get to your apartment.

“See, you’re being good now,” Minho tells you as he breaks away from the kiss just to bite your lip. “My good pretty girl.”

He continues fucking you even after you come, standing right in front of you. This way, he has to look into your face and watch you make the whiniest faces out there while singing him praises. “Just like that, Minho… Give it to me. You’re doing so good, baby…”

“Nghh,” he grunts, closing his eyes before looking to the side. That’s when he speeds his movements up, acting a bit desperate—so unlike him. “Just take it!”

“And be quiet?” you suggest, chuckling before your mouth meets his neck again. “Baby, you know you don’t want me to be. Just enjoy it… You love being inside of me and giving me all of it. We both know it, so relax… Fuck me.”

Minho grunts and places your leg down on the floor. With ease, he pulls out of you and makes you pout. “Turn around,” he hisses at you, so you do as asked.

The very next second, he pushes your torso into the wall and pulls your hips towards himself so he can plow into you from behind, which you gladly let him do, completely forgetting about your decency in case anyone comes out of their apartment and catches you having loud, desperate sex in the hallway.

Minho shoves his cock into you swiftly, grunting in the process, stopping for a second when he bottoms out. “Perfect,” he mumbles, giving your ass a spank. “We’ll see if you’ll talk back now.”

With that, he starts fucking you as hard as he can, the way you two used to enjoy. You’ve spent so many nights getting railed into tomorrow on all fours or your legs, Minho right behind you, grabbing your ass and giving you his cock, not stopping when you came. Every time was like a marathon, with neither one of you feeling like you’d had enough.

“Not so loud now, huh?” Minho sounds happy with himself and he has every reason to be. His fingers dig into your hips, cock moving in and out, as he makes you moan quietly with every move he makes.

The angle is just right too, mostly because you’re sticking your ass out while your chest is pressed into the wall, hands holding onto it. Minho’s cock can just hit that spot over and over again until your thighs shake, which is exactly what is happening.

“That’s right,” he mumbles, talking more to himself than you at this point. Maybe he is drunker than you thought. “Love it when you’re so good for me and just take it… Let me fuck you rough where anyone could see… My little slut. Mine. Right, pretty?”

His words send shivers down your spine and into your crotch, walls clamping around him as you moan, “Just yours, Minho, baby, just yo—fuck, yours!” It feels like the good old days, when Minho would remind you that you were his every time he touched you.

“That’s what I thought,” he says cockily, smacking your ass again, this one a bit harder so it stings. But, you like this type of pain when it comes from Minho. “Been thinking about this all week.”

“Yeah?” 

You need to know more. Did he think about you the way you thought about him? Or is he just referring to sex? Either way, you’re similar. You’ve thought about it all with him—getting to touch him again, him being inside of you, getting to talk and cuddle and kiss. You didn’t really think you could miss a person after spending less than a week with them, but here you are, missing him now even though he is inside of you. Everything is eerily like it was back then, including this feeling of missing someone you have—only now you have him physically for the night only.

“Wanted to be in your pussy so badly,” Minho informs you, answering the question you’ve never asked out loud. “Needed to make you feel good again, pretty… Have you coming around me again…”

With every compliment and kind word he says, the grip your pussy has on Minho tightens, which tells him that’s the direction he should take if he wants you to come. So, he keeps them coming, careful to maintain the same pace. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grunts, sounding like he’s fighting off an orgasm of his own. “Ready to give me her little cunt whenever I get hard, just like back then, huh?”

You can’t even speak anymore, so you just hum in response and continue moaning, trying to not be as loud. But, the fear of getting caught by a neighbor is less prominent than the need to have him ruin you like he used to. “Y-yeah, yes—”

It’s true now and it was true back then—you can’t get enough of him. Whenever Minho wants you, he can have you, and that used to scare you a lot. To be fair, it still scares you because it’s irrational and goes against everything you believe in. You don’t think anyone should have that kind of power over you, make you get a bit stupid and forget all your boundaries, make you risk it all. Yet, Minho’s always had it, which made you run away from him. If he has the power to build you up and make you feel like you’re the only person that matters, what would happen if he just took it away? 

“Good, I know it…” Minho continues fucking into you so hard you can barely stand straight and doesn’t stop until you come hard. It’s even more intense than the last one but doesn’t last as long, which means you thankfully don’t make as much noise as you did earlier. “Yeah, baby, that’s right, just like that… Let me feel you.”

“Shit,” you grunt and kick your head back, trying to breathe in deeply, but it’s impossible with the way he’s fucking you.

“My turn,” he says with a chuckle, and your walls clench at his words. “Gonna fill your cunt right up, pretty… Want me to?”

You’re stupid tonight, all over again. Neither one of you had a condom, so you let Minho fuck you raw. He never fucks without a condom, though, that much you know, and neither do you. Protection over everything, even if you’re on birth control. Yet, here you two idiots are, fucking like you’re stupid.

You’re even dumber than him because you moan in response, “Yeah, give it to me.”

“Sure?” Minho sounds serious now, even though you’ve told him about birth control before he put his dick in you, not wanting him to think you’re careless and let men fuck you without protection.

“Don’t you want to give it to me?” you ask teasingly, squeezing your walls around his cock on purpose. It’s something you’ve talked about a lot back in the day, fantasized about, wanted to try. And here you are now, getting to try it years later, with each other. “Show me who owns me.”

And those are the magic words, as always. Minho’s never been jealous or possessive, or at least he’s never shown it. But, when you’re fucking, he likes hearing he’s the only one, that you belong to him, that he can do whatever he pleases with you. Those words always used to make him come hard back then, so you told him the same thing over and over again just to get him to go crazy on you. That’s exactly why you’re saying it now, and it’s why Minho starts fucking you even harder.

It feels like he’ll split you into two, but you love the intensity of it, the loud smacking of his firm thighs against the back of yours, the rough digging of his fingers into the skin of your hips, the loud hissing and humming that’s leaving his pretty mouth. “Oh God, I’ve never felt anything better!” 

Each compliment goes straight to your head. There is a difference between sex with and without condoms even for you, but you’re sure it feels a lot more different for Minho. He’s already muttering into the back of your neck, giving you compliment after compliment. “So good… Letting me use your pretty cunt to come—fuck!”

His arms wrap around your stomach, pull you in closer as his thrusts get more shallow. “Mhm, fuck, so wet, feel you so good like this… All mine. Gonna take my cum?”

“Yes, yes, Minho!” you mumble back, not wanting to speak. Instead,y ou just want to listen to him because hearing Minho get this lost in pleasure is overwhelming, exciting, pleasurable. 

“Here, take all of it… Show me how good you can be. Take it, pretty—”

When he comes, Minho doesn’t pull out right away. Instead, he stays lodged inside of you a bit longer, pulling your back into his chest so he can pepper kisses along your neck and collarbone. “God, pretty, you took it so well. I feel dizzy.” His touch is soft and gentle, and the contrast between this moment and everything that happened tonight is making your head spin in the best possible way. “This felt so much better than I thought it would.”

You feel a strange wetness between your legs, inside of you, and you know it’s his cum, but the feeling isn’t uncomfortable. You don’t have the need to go get rid of it as soon as possible, especially not when he’s still inside of you too, still hard, clearly enjoying every second of this newfound pleasure. 

When your breathing calms down, Minho pulls out gently, and you feel some of his cum spill out, trickling down your inner thigh. “Sorry, I made a mess, pretty,” he informs you as he smacks your ass lightly. “I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s fine,” you say, pulling your underwear back into place and turning around to face him. Minho looks different now—hair all over the place, face sweaty, breathing heavy. You never want to stop staring at him. “Let’s go clean up.”

The offer gets rejected quickly, leaving you to wonder if you fucked up. “I’m going to go home instead, okay? Thanks for tonight,” Minho tells you, leaning in for another kiss, this time a lot less passionate one. It’s a simple peck that lasts for a couple of seconds while he inhales deeply. “Be good, sleep well.”

“Wait, you don’t want to, uhm, stay with me?” You shouldn’t ask this when he’s already turned you down, you know, but something pushes you to ask, wanting to know more.

“I want to, but I shouldn’t,” Minho says as he takes a step back. “Neither one of us is thinking straight. It’s better not to give each other false hope.”

“False hope?” You suddenly feel cold, so you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling pain in your chest at the sight of Minho looking so disappointed. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe we should have this conversation sober,” he suggests, making you shudder. Minho is always, always honest with you, so you know what this means. He doesn't want to stay the night because you're just a fuck nowadays. A good fuck, but nothing more. How could you be after everything you've done to him? Unaware of the effect he has on you, Minho continues, “Let’s talk about it in a couple of weeks, when our heads clear. What do you say?”

“I—” 

You want to tell Minho no. You want to tell him you want him right here and right now, and that you’re not going back to your apartment alone, that you don’t want to let him go home alone. You don’t want to sleep in your bed and have him sleep in his on the other side of town if you could be sleeping together, side by side.

But, you remember that not everything is about you, as he so nicely put it. You can’t always get what you want and sacrifice other people’s feelings for your own. If he doesn't want to be with you, you'll have to accept it, no matter how much the thought hurts. “Whatever you need, Minho. Call me when you’re ready to talk. I’m here.”

“I know, pretty,” he says, reaching in to cup your face. His touch is still gentle and warm, and you unconsciously lean into his palm, wanting him to touch you some more and stop the hurt in your chest from spreading, but he doesn’t. “Have a good night.”

“Think of relationships as plants,” your therapist says, looking right at you with a smile. Is he making fun of you now?

“Plants?”

You don’t want to assume anything, but maybe Mr. Yoo has had enough of you rambling about Minho and the wedding and the insanity of this plan that failed miserably and is messing with you.

“Yes, plants,” he repeats and looks at you questioningly like you’re the one making weird conclusions. “You've had a plant before, I presume?”

You nod, and your therapist continues, “Great. Then you'll know how difficult it is to create perfect conditions for the plant to survive. You have to find just the right amount of water for it. You give too much and your plant dies. You give too little and the plant dies. But just enough? It flourishes. You also have to remove the dead leaves, pay attention that it is in the sun or in the shade, that the temperature is right. It's so much more than just buying a plant and watering it here and there, wouldn't you agree?”

You managed to kill three plants and a cactus before you called it a day and stopped trying, so you nod at him again. Whenever they'd die, you'd feel terrible. But, what's that got to go with relationships? “And relationships?”

“Relationships are like plants. Every person is different, there's no cheat sheet for the perfect relationship. One person likes affection, the other dislikes it. One person needs sex for the relationship to be satisfactory, someone else doesn't find it a priority. We all have certain things we look for in relationships and things we are willing to give. But, we are also in charge of creating conditions for our partners. These conditions are the things you offer and they usually the same in every relationship you have: love, support, comfort, understanding, sex, kindness… You give more of some, less of others.”

Weirdly, that makes sense. Even when you followed the instructions to a tee, your plants would die. Maybe you didn’t care for them enough, maybe you let them out in direct sunlight for a minute too long, maybe you gave them just a tiny bit more water than necessary and they died.

Your therapist continues, realizing he has your undivided attention. “Even if you give it your all to create perfect conditions for it, your plant might wither and die, but that's the only point of your plant's life you can control—these conditions. You can't control how the plant reacts to them or whether they help her grow. It's the same with relationships. You can want it to work out more than you've ever wanted anything, but it could fail.”

His words instantly take you to Minho and how much you wanted and still want you two to work. He is what you want. You don’t care how much time has passed since you were last with him, you’re sure he hasn’t changed that much, not when it comes to important things. He’s still caring and kind and understanding, and that’s the type of partner you need.

Mr. Yoo clears his throat and gives you a sympathetic smile. “But, if you've given it your all and created the perfect conditions, then it's a lot easier to accept the ending, isn't it? You've done it all, but the other person wanted different conditions, ones you simply can't offer. Giving it your best is the only thing you can do. Your ex, Minho… You've mastered the watering, I presume. You seemed to have given him enough of what he needed to stay. If you want to start a relationship with him again, you'll have to put yourself out there and offer what you can.”

Can you do that? You think so. You want to be the best version of yourself again, and the only time you felt that way was when you were with him. Minho didn’t ask you to change or try to change you, you just became… Softer. More caring. More selfless. He was all those things, even if only certain people got to see that side of him. It rubbed off on you.

“That's the only thing you can do for the other person and the relationship. Create your conditions, something you're comfortable with. You have to be careful not to create the conditions you think the other person wants, but the ones you are comfortable with giving. Let's say your plant needs more water than you have. If you keep getting more and more water, carrying it, making plans to get it, watering your plant more than you thought you would, you'll have to stop eventually. In this scenario in a relationship, you'll become overburdened with your care for the partner and give more than you have, leaving you emotionally drained. You might also come to resent them, but you're the one who offered them conditions you knew you couldn't handle to begin with.”

It makes perfect sense, this analogy of Mr. Yoo’s. You’ve seen this scenario around you more times than you can count—your friends trying to be exactly what their partners need instead of just being themselves and offering what they can. They went from being just like you—having a job, hobbies, cooking and cleaning when they could—to being the new-age version of housewives because they thought that was needed of them. One of them ended up breaking down and ending the relationship and the other was still stuck in this circle of playing a housewife and then coming to work bitter about her husband and the fact that she has to be this version of herself she really isn’t, work and cook and clean and mother the guy who’s supposed to be her equal.

“You seem very loving,” he continues, stirring you from your thoughts. “I think you might give a lot of love in relationships, when you get to that point, which takes a long time. If Minho were different, he would possibly find the love suffocating. If you were different, you'd give less of it and he'd leave. What was your biggest problem in that relationship? I'm talking about the past, not about the trip.”

What was it? Minho thinks it was Chris. Sometimes, it feels like your ex sees Chris as the big mastermind behind the break up, when the reality is much different. “Our biggest problem? Me.”

“You?” Mr. Yoo seems interested in this confession.

“Me,” you easily confirm, knowing it’s true. “I think being with me wasn't easy for him. You're right, I was loving and I think that's what Minho liked about the relationship. He doesn't come from a family that expresses love through words and physical touch. It's more of an act of service type of family, which is great, but I think he needed more. I could give that to him, but I had a lot of flaws to deal with. I know I still do, but I was even worse back then. My insecurity is what ruins it all.”

“Insecurity?”

“Yes. It was worse back then. I thought he was just too good for me, that I had nothing to offer and that it was just a matter of time before he figured it out.” It isn’t easy to admit this because the thought still hurts. When you talk about it, you remember the tight feeling in your chest whenever you two would argue, whenever you’d think Minho was about to break up with you, whenever you’d realize the fighting was pushing him away. After every fight, you’d go home thinking you were ruining this one good thing you had, the best thing you had, and that Minho was better off without you. That’s why you never went to him, never apologized first, never asked him to forgive you—a part of you was expecting him to just give up. 

“Even though you felt loved?” The cocked-up eyebrow tells you Mr. Yoo is questioning you. It doesn’t make sense, you know. You thought Minho was going to dump you any chance he could yet you also felt very loved and cared for when you were with him.

“I… Yes. It's irrational. But it got a lot better thanks to him.”

That’s the truth, and everyone—including Minho—knows it. You went from being a timid person to someone who could let herself loose when with him because Minho brought out the best in you. He made you do things that you’d never do on your own and it helped you realize nothing bad would happen if you just did what you wanted and acted like no one was watching.

Mr. Yoo hums as if he understands. “But it still ruined the relationship.”

“Yes,” you have to admit. You’re once again contradicting yourself—you just said you got more confident with Minho but that you broke up with him because of insecurity. “I caused fights because I turned everything into something that it wasn't because I was just looking for reasons for him to break up with me.”

“That sounds like a lot.”

“It was. In the end I just knew he deserved better than me, especially since I was so insecure about everything and making his life a mess.”

That is the truth—you started seeing a lot of your mother and father in yourself when you two would argue. You would get stubborn and fight for something you didn’t really stand for, just so the other person wouldn’t win. In your case, it wasn’t that you didn’t want Minho to win—you just didn’t want to admit that he knew you better than anyone else did, that he understood you more than you understood yourself at times.

“Did he agree with that?” Mr. Yoo asks. “Did Minho think you were making his life worse?”

You replay the conversation from that night in your head, the night it all ended back then. You can hear it as if it’s happening right now, as if a drunk and hurt Minho is on the other line, voice trembling as he speaks to you. Your insecurity is the reason for most of these problems. You don't think you're good enough for me or for a relationship like this or for real feelings. I don't know how to fix this. You seem so unhappy with me whenever we fight. Do you think you have to be the center of my attention 24/7 for it to mean I love you?

You can still remember every single thing he said during that conversation—and all of them were true. The one that hurt the most was that he didn’t think you cared about his feelings, and he expressed the same sentiment the night of the wedding too, reminding you of how terrible you acted back then and even now, years later, when you should be wiser and more mature. 

Your eyes water and Mr. Yoo hums. “Take your time,” he tells you, smiling softly. “We’ve dug into the past a lot, it’s only natural we’re uncovering some hurtful things.”

You nod and take a couple of deep breaths, fighting off the tears. “He didn't agree. He thought my insecurity was causing me to make up problems and start fights, even if he tried not to give me any reason to doubt his intentions,” you admit with a sniffle, looking to the side. “Minho didn't know how to help with that.”

“That's understandable,” Mr. Yoo quickly adds. “He’s your partner—well, was, and not your therapist. He did what he could do to help, created the conditions to make you stay, but they didn't work for you back then. Do they now?”

Do they? Do you want what Minho has to offer?

“I… I think they do. We haven't given it a real shot this time around, not even close, but just being with him—” You sigh, realizing you're getting carried away. You can’t sit here and talk about your feelings for Minho for hours, not these feelings. Mr. Yoo clearly realizes you are crazy about the guy, you don’t have to describe just how much. “I'd love to be with him again.”

Your therapist scribbles something down and then looks back at you with a smile. “And why aren't you?”

“He left without a word,” you explain, feeling shame about how things ended. “He left the night of the wedding and he left the last time I saw him.”

“Without a word?” Mr. Yoo’s eyes narrow as he glances at you. “It sounded to me like Minho talked to you about his feelings two nights in a row, explaining them pretty clearly back at the island. He also said things before he left that night when you two met each other after the wedding.”

“I…”  You gulp, unsure of what he means. You don’t think any of the things Minho said are conclusive. “He told me we'd talk about it sober and then left. Then when we saw each other, he decided to drink but then said we shouldn’t talk about it drunk.”

“Well, if I remember correctly, he told you you’d discuss your relationship sober before you started talking about feelings again after he asked you not to. He set a boundary, asked you to respect it with the promise of talking about it tomorrow, but you ignored the boundary.”

Did you do that? You feel terrible just thinking about it. You know all about boundaries and how important it is to set them. It’s just as important to notice when people overstep them without caring about your feelings—Mr. Yoo has explained this many times.

“I didn’t— I guess I didn’t see it that way then. I was drunk and hurt and afraid of losing him, so I just wanted to tell him how I felt. Minho still thought I had feelings for Chris and I just didn’t want to—” You stop, taking a deep breath to stop yourself from crying. “I didn’t want him to go to his room and be all alone and think I was just saying things because I was hurt over Chris. Minho, he… He… When he’s hurt, he doesn’t show it, doesn’t want to bother people with it, thinks it’s a bother. But he’d let me hold him and comfort him. Well, he did back then. He wouldn’t want to talk about it, but he would let me hug him. I was hoping he would stay so I could comfort him like he comforted me during that entire trip.”

Even if everyone sees Minho as a carefree guy who rarely gets hurt, you know the truth is much different than that. You’ve been the person he turned to in times of need many times before, and you know what he needs when he’s hurt. The thought of him going to his room upset and alone that night does hurt, mostly because you know you’re the reason for it. If you hadn’t opened your mouth and started talking about feelings, you could have had fun all night, could have slept next to each other, could have woken up the same way, and Minho would have stayed.

“Ah!” Mr. Yoo hums knowingly, nodding at you a time or two. “And why didn’t you just tell him this?”

“How can I say it without pushing the subject even further?” you contradict your therapist for the first time. Minho had asked you to drop it, and you asking him to stay so you could comfort him would sound… strange.

“You clearly noticed he was hurt. You could have offered a hug or asked him what you could do to help him feel better. A lot of these scenarios are in your head. You come up with conclusions and base your response off of these conclusions instead of listening to what the other person is saying.”

“What do you mean? I mean, I’m sure you’re right, I just don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Let me think of an example. Minho said he could separate sex from feelings. Instantly, you thought that meant he didn’t care about you and that you were just sex to him, so you accused him of only caring about sex. His statement doesn’t imply that at all. It just means he is a man capable of having sex without feelings. You know he has feelings for you. If he were capable of not feeling a thing for you, the thing with that lady never would have happened. Right?”

Mr. Yoo is right once again. If Minho felt nothing for you, he would have been able to sleep with Sunyoung and forget you existed. You feel embarrassed about the whole thing yet again. 

“You are right about that. I do jump to conclusions because it’s easier for me to believe that it means something negative than that the person is fighting to be with me. That’s why him leaving hurt. I thought Minho would turn me down and tell me I’m just sex to him, but he didn’t. He told me I am selfish, which I am, that I need to think about him, which I did, and then he left without a word. If he wants to be with me, why would he do that?”

Mr. Yoo puts down his pen, intertwines his fingers and looks at you with a smile that lets you know you’re about to get hit with some cold hard truth. But, that’s why you’re seeing him in the first place. He’s an unbiased third party. 

“I don't know if he wants this relationship or not. I'm here to help you deal with feelings. But, let's imagine you're Minho. He broke up with you years ago, possibly because of a friend he might have had feelings for. Now, he calls you to help him win her over during her wedding week. You think the idea is crazy but you accept it for old times’ sake. You don't want Minho to get hurt, and it's easier if you're there with him if things go south.”

You try to imagine the scenario in your head. Instead of a friend of Minho’s, you imagine Seoyoon with that look she had on her face when she flirted with him at the party. The scenario instantly hurts a bit more.

“But the first time you two see each other in years, you sleep together. Sparks are flying, things feel like they used to, but you wake up alone in your bed—no sign or word from Minho. Still, you go on this trip with your ex and end up spending more time with him, having fun, acting like nothing has changed. And then, you spend a great day together. Even though she's there, Minho only has eyes for you.”

You know Mr. Yoo is referring to that day at the pool, the day you realized you haven’t looked at anyone else the way you looked at Minho, that you haven’t had that type of connection with anyone, no matter how many guys you met, how many dates you’ve been on, how many chances you’ve given. You remember the pool and how he held onto your hand and how you flirted with him shamelessly, kissing him in front of everyone.

Mr. Yoo goes on, “He asks you to sleep with him again, so you do, and it all feels like it used to. You tell each other many intimate things, act like nothing has changed, but you wake up alone again. The next time you hear from Minho, he asks you to join the two of them on a walk, reminding you why he's there. It’s not to be with you—it’s to win his friend over, and you’re just a pawn in his plan, a person he is using to make the friend jealous.”

Your chest tightens at these words because that’s exactly what your initial plan was—use Minho, the ex that Chris couldn’t stand, to win him over. But that was before you slept with Minho, before you realized the chemistry was there, before you noticed he looked at you tenderly and still treated you like he cared about you.

“You realize that maybe you can't do all of this. You don't want to attend the party and watch the two of them together, but Minho promises he’ll be with you. He ends up spending time with everyone else. You decide to try to take your mind off things with someone else, but your mind isn't in it. You tell him you think his plan sucks and that you two worked better, that he's just fooling himself and that he'll get hurt. You also remind him he broke his promise to you and treated you unfairly. Tomorrow, she gets married, he's heartbroken, and gets in your bed again, suddenly deciding he wants to be with you. How would you feel?”

The second time you meet a man at that same bar, you feel like there’s a huge ball of anxiety in your stomach, waiting to burst at any time. Jisung is early, of course, and he gives you an unenthusiastic wave when he sees you walk in.

When you approach the table, he gets up and gives you a slight nod. You engage in meaningless chit-chat until your drink arrives, and you gulp it down almost instantly, knowing he’s not here to be your friend. Whatever Jisung has in mind probably won’t be pretty or good for you.

“So,” he clears his throat and gives you a questioning look, “Minho, huh?”

“Huh,” you respond with a sigh. “What is this about, exactly?”

“Minho, of course,” Jisung says, giving you a weird look. “I sure as hell didn’t invite you here to spend time with you.”

“Then maybe I should get going,” you suggest, put off by the hostility.

You understand that you’re not his favorite person, but you’re not your own favorite person at the moment either, and hearing how much you suck from someone else isn’t going to help. You feel like shit as it is. You miss Minho, you’ve fucked the entire thing up, you’re a bad person—you know it already. Mr. Yoo has all but said it and he keeps making you revisit your past and realize how selfish you really are whenever you see him. So, you don’t need Jisung to give you a lecture right now, you really don’t.

“No,” Jisung says firmly, lifting both hands in the air in defense. “Sorry. I mean… Let’s just talk about Minho.”

“What do you want to talk about?” you ask, unsure of where he’s going with this. He’s the last person you expected to contact you. “About how much I suck and we shouldn’t be together?”

“I…” Jisung sighs, pausing to just look at you with a faint smile. “That’s not what I think. I think you guys can be good together. I’ve seen you be great together. I’ve seen him very happy with you.”

You nod slowly, for some reason feeling pain over this. It’s stupid to blame yourself for dumb decisions you made years ago, including letting go of Minho and not fighting for him after an argument like he’s fought for you. It’s stupid, but it’s what you’ve been doing since you came back home from the wedding. “But?”

“Do you still have feelings for Chris?” Jisung cuts straight to the point with a glare. He’s always been like this when it comes to Minho—loud, protective, unashamed—which is why you always told Minho Jisung is the best friend he has. Yeah, you were never his favorite person, but Minho was, and he was the only friend that always acted with Minho’s best interest in mind. That's why he was your favorite friend of Minho's, even if he hated you. “Please, don’t bullshit me.”

“I think of him as a friend only. And not even a close one anymore,” you admit right away, at peace with your feelings, for a change. You've had plenty of time to think about everything, to talk it through with your therapist, to figure shit out. “It was all a big mistake on my end.”

“But you, uh, spent a week with Minho chasing Chris,” Jisung counters, seeing right through the bullshit. Minho has probably filled him in on everything. “How come you’ve changed your mind so fast?”

“Han, I feel like these are things I should be telling him, and not you,” you practically whisper at him, noticing the frown on his face at your words. “But I get that you want the best for him and think I can manipulate him into this. So. I went into this thinking I had to be with Chris because he’s the one that got away.”

“Okay.” Jisung nods, leaning back into his chair and giving you his undivided attention. “Go on.”

“All these years, I felt he loved me unconditionally back then. I could always count on him to have my back and take my side and be there when I needed him,” you go on, feeling dumber with every word. How come you didn’t see any of this back then? You liked Chris because he never fought with you, and you thought a good relationship meant no arguing—it had to be the opposite of what your parents had. “But, after, uh, Minho and I met and things got out of control, I started to think a lot more about him, and less about Chris.”

“Hm!” Jisung hums triumphantly. “Sorry, continue.”

“The more time we spent there, the more I saw it would never work with Chris and that it does work with Minho. We are still on the same page about everything, Minho and I. And… He was right. I feel a weird type of thing for Chris, but it’s not sexual at all. It’s something that might have been, but never will be. And with him, it’s all of that combined,” you admit, feeling blood rush to your cheeks at this admission. It’s more than you’ve even admitted to yourself. That’s exactly what it is—you have it all with Minho: feelings, security, sex, comfort. Even the arguments aren’t bad because they make you come to a conclusion, make you realize what you’re doing wrong, what you need to work on. “It sounds pathetic.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jisung says, reaching out to place your hand over his and pat it, which is surprising. But, you know he’s not a bad person just because he doesn’t like you—you wouldn’t like you either if you were him. “It sounds… Reasonable. Your chemistry was always wild. Do you now think he’s the one that got away?”

“No,” you admit without batting an eye. “It’s not like that. I think the whole ‘the one that got away’ thing is stupid, honestly. It’s just chances you didn’t take. And I’m not sorry we broke up back then because I clearly wasn’t a good girlfriend to him, and Minho deserved better. It happened for a reason. It’s taken me years, but I now know how to appreciate someone like him.”

“Good, you should,” his friend adds with a grin. “He’s a good guy. And if anyone loves you unconditionally, as you put it, it’s that dude. I would have been done with you a long time ago.”

“Good thing we hate each other,” you quip, making him chuckle. 

You do appreciate Jisung’s words, though, because he is someone who looks at you objectively. His feelings don’t get in the way like Minho’s do when he excuses your behavior. Jisung doesn’t excuse anything, so if he says this, it must be true.

“Good thing!” he agrees, eyes lingering on your face. Even if he dislikes you, you think Jisung is a great friend to Minho because he’s walked all over his personal feelings and is here wanting to find out more.

“Is that what you wanted to hear or is there more? Why am I here?”

“I just wanted to hear it from you. He’s told me you two talked and that he’s thinking about being with you again, and I just wanted to hear it from your mouth,” Jisung explains, but you zone out for a second because your heart springs up at his words. Minho’s thinking about being with you again? “You clearly have some kind of a spell on him since he never thinks straight around you. I just don’t want him to get screwed over again, he’s a great guy and definitely doesn’t deserve to have someone play with his feelings.”

“I’m not playing with him, trust me, Han,” you say earnestly, hoping he knows it. “I wouldn’t do that to anyone, let alone him. Minho… He is great for me. And I hope he thinks I’m great for him too. I want it to work, and that has nothing to do with Chris. The day after the wedding, I cried because Minho left and not because Chris got married. I didn’t even think of the dude all this time if I’m being honest. He's found happiness, and that's great.”

“Good, that’s a good sign,” Jisung agrees warmly, for a change. “Maybe you should tell Minho all this when he gets here.”

And come there, he does, a smile washing over his face the second he sees you and Jisung waving at him a couple of minutes later. You almost expected him to turn around on his heel and leave when he sees you, but he doesn’t.

“Are you guys plotting against me?” Minho says as he walks over to the table and sits down next to you, his thigh brushing against yours, which makes you shiver. It all feels like it used to—you being excited to see him, getting shivers at the smallest touch, your eyes following Minho from the second he walks into the room. “It’s so weird seeing you two get along.”

“Ms. My Best Friend’s Wedding and I get along just fine when we have a common goal,” Jisung explains, patting Minho’s shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have plans.”

“Plans?” Minho asks, clearly confused as to why his friend is already leaving. “What do you mean? I just got here, you invited me.”

“Being the third wheel isn’t that appealing. Besides, I didn't invite you here to be your marriage counselor, you can sort that out yourselves,” Jisung jokes, but neither one of you laughs because it touches on a topic too close to home. “And I think it’s time you do that. You both look miserable. See you soon!”

Before either one of you can protest, Jisung is out the door, and Minho is smiling at you.

“It’s nice to see you,” he tells you warmly. The last time you saw each other, Minho was kind but it seemed like he wasn’t ready to talk to you, didn’t want you to manipulate him into staying or talking about a topic he couldn’t discuss back then. Right now, you don’t have that type of feeling when you look at your ex.

“It’s great to see you too,” you admit, aware of the waitress approaching your table. “You look… Pretty.”

Minho smiles at the compliment and orders you both non-alcoholic drinks, for a change, and the second the waitress turns around, he pulls you in for a hug, taking a deep breath. His hand is holding the back of your neck, the other caressing your back gently, and you don’t ever want to pull away.

The hug is unexpected but very welcomed because you’ve been craving his touch since that night, and not sexually. You’ve cried about him a lot and wished he was there with you—if not as a boyfriend, then at least as a friend. Now he’s giving you exactly what you wanted, and you never want to let go.

“You’re getting all sappy on me,” you tease when he finally pulls away. “Should I be worried?”

“You’re spending time with Jisung… Should I be worried?” he teases right back, reminding you of how fun your dynamic actually is—always was.

“I just wanted to see what he wanted from me,” you explain. “He is your friend, after all.”

“Did you find out what he wanted or have I interrupted you?” Minho leans into his seat, wrapping an arm around your shoulders like it’s supposed to be there. That’s how it feels for you too.

“I did,” you tell him with a smile. “He was just looking out for you. I think you’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself, though.”

“Maybe not when it comes to you,” Minho admits, tonguing his cheek. However, his tone is playful, and so is his smirk. “Have you thought about it?”

“It?” you repeat, unsure of what exactly he wants to touch on tonight. Minho is not the one who wanted you here—it was all Jisung’s doing. Maybe your ex doesn’t want to talk to you about anything important at all. You’re just here at the same bar, left by his friend who ran off somewhere more fun.

“Us,” he clarifies, effectively putting an end to all your little theories. Oh. So, it seems like Minho is ready to talk about it tonight of all nights, when you’re completely blindsided and unprepared. Still, your heart starts beating faster.

“What’s there to think about?” you quip, taking him by surprise. “I still feel the same way I did at the wedding. I want you.”

“Hm,” he hums and nods, taking some time to think about what you said. You’re sure he’s trying to find a flaw with this line of thinking or come up with something snarky to say.

So, you hit your ex with a question of your own, tired of waiting and feeling the knots in your stomach tighten like you’re on a first date with a stranger and not on a non-date with an ex. “Have you?”

“I have,” Minho tells you sweetly, moving his hand away from your shoulder as the waitress approaches.

Once she leaves, you look at him questioningly, waiting for him to continue. Minho hasn’t spoken to you since the last time you two met each other at the bar, since he turned down your invitation to come in, since he bailed on you.

He wanted time, and you gave it to him. You didn’t reach out either, didn’t pressure him—you were trying to put him and his wishes first, and forget about what you wanted. So, you let Minho start the conversation and explain his feelings, even if it will end up hurting you.

“It’s been over two months since we last saw each other,” he tells you slowly as if you needed a reminder, “so I’m guessing you’re serious about it. I mean, are you?”

“I am. I don’t want to compare this between us with Chris or any other guy I’ve been with,” you explain, noting the grimace Minho makes at the mention of the guy he doesn’t particularly like. “But I have compared it to everything. And like you’ve said, that was the last time someone cared about me. It was also the last time I cared for someone that much, too. I’ve been looking for that with someone else, but they’re never, uh… You. If you understand what I mean.”

“I do,” Minho agrees. “I don’t like the comparisons to other people, though. I guess I’ve seen you jealous over Chris and it ru—”

It’s rude to interrupt others. Besides, Mr. Yoo told you that you have to take the time to listen to what the other person has to say, but you have to interrupt this time. “I wasn’t jealous of Sunyoung or their relationship or anything like that.”

“You sure about that, pretty?” Minho smirks, resting his elbow on the table and propping his cheek up on his palm.

“Positive,” you spit the word out with a joking glare. “I’m not really a jealous person when I think about it. I’ve never once thought about Chris and Sunyoung that way.”

Minho nods, but it seems like he doesn’t believe you. Then, you suddenly chuckle, trying to suppress it, and he asks you what’s going on in your pretty little head.

“I just realized I lied to you. I did get jealous during the trip,” you admit. It was a childish moment, one that made you rethink the whole thing, one that planted a big seed of doubt in your brain. “It was about you.”

“Me?” he asks, excitement written all over his face. “Do tell. My ego’s kind of bruised, I could do with a compliment or two.”

You know it’s a joke, but Minho does look a bit worried, and you’re sure Jisung wouldn’t be calling you to meet up with him if his friend was doing amazing. The worst part about it is that you know you’re the reason for it. He was fine before the trip, fine before you made a mess of his life, fine before you crossed the line. Chris never said a bad thing to Minho, and neither did Sunyoung during the trip, so it was you. It is solely your fault he has any kind of ego problems now.

So, you reach out and rub Minho’s cheek gently like you’re supposed to be doing that at a bar. “Your ego would be unbearable if you knew how many good things I think of you, Minho.”

He gulps at the compliment, eyes glazing as he looks at you, taking your features in. Usually, Minho would laugh at your compliment, take it as a joke, making one of his own. But now, he doesn’t—he just looks at you.

For a second, you think he’ll kiss you. That doesn’t happen, so you go on, moving your hand away from his face. “Anyway… It’s not what you think. I was actually jealous when I thought about you going into a pool with some other woman.”

Finally, Minho laughs, kicking his head back like you’ve said the funniest thing ever. “That’s what worries you? You’re not jealous when you think I could fuck around or something like that, but swimming!?”

“The thing with Seoyoon… You had every right to do it,” you admit, even if it hurts. “But no, that’s not what worries me. You can have sex with a lot of people. I know you, and you don’t really let people in, especially not that much. So if you let someone else in to that extent, it would mean you care for them. And that’s what I’m jealous of.”

“Listen, pretty, you’re still the only person who’s ever gotten me to willingly enter a body of water and enjoy it,” he teases you, nudging you gently. You can tell he’s slightly uncomfortable with the topic, but you know he won’t change it. Minho doesn’t work like that. He’s there even when it’s difficult. “I’ve tried to find someone better than you after we broke up. I really have. Nothing feels as real. We’re both kind of fucked up, but it works.”

“Will you ever be able to forgive me, though?” you ask the question that’s been bugging you for weeks now, your breath hitching in your throat as you wait for him to say something back.

Minho grimaces and shakes his head. “What do you think I should forgive?”

He shouldn’t have asked that question. It’s like a dam breaks, and you just start listing everything you think you’ve done wrong in the years you’ve known Minho.

“I let us break up over something stupid. I let Chris and other people influence my decisions. I let you go. I hated being without you, and when I found out you were sad too, I just felt even worse. I can’t believe I hurt you. And then, I invited you to the wedding with me and slept with you. I didn't even check if you were okay, if having sex changed something, if you were still okay with the whole thing… And then everything at the wedding— It’s just a mess and I’m ashamed. I should have told you how I felt the second I was sure of it instead of being too proud and stubborn. I’m sorry for all of that.”

“Hey, pretty,” Minho reaches out and squeezes your shoulder, “stop it. All of those things you’ve listed? They take two people. The timing wasn’t right back then, even if we got along well. I could have called too. I could have fought a bit harder. I slept with you too and I didn’t even think how that would affect you, right? Maybe I should have rejected you any of those three times because it was clear you were confused about Chris and your feelings.”

What your ex is saying makes sense, but you still don’t think any of it is his fault. “I initiated every time,” you point out. You just wanted him and didn’t want to admit that to yourself or him back then because you were stuck on this silly little idea you had. “You had a choice, but I was the one who pushed for it, so don’t feel bad.” 

“Yeah, but I did have a choice. I could have said no, but I didn't because I was a bit selfish and wanted you for myself. And then I’d just instantly get reminded that you’re there for a reason, to be with Chris, and I… Tried to make it better with Seoyoon…” He scoffs, not looking away even if you can tell he’s uncomfortable. Minho frowns, closing his eyes for a second as he sighs, regret written all over his face. “I shouldn’t have done that to her or you because my mind wasn’t in it at all. I just kept thinking about you and how stupid I was to sleep with you again when I knew you were there for him. And the wedding… You did nothing wrong. You were a bit selfish, but I always let you get away with it, so I can’t blame you.”

“I was, and I’m sorry,” you apologize again. You’ve talked to your therapist about Minho and what you’ve done so many times, asking for a session whenever he had an opening just to have a third party listen and understand and help you get your thoughts in order. Now that you feel like some things are clearer, you want him to know too. “I shouldn’t have pushed or ignored you or acted like you weren’t there just because I was too stubborn to admit that I want you back. I’m really sorry you felt bad because of me, I feel terrible about that. It’s all stupid because my favorite memory of the trip is that day at the pool with you.”

Minho chuckles lightly. “I thought you were going to say it was the great sex we had at the wedding, but okay…”

You smack his thigh playfully but can’t help grinning. “That was good too, but you did leave and I felt bad afterward, so…”

“Then I should apologize too.”

“No, you shou—”

“No, no,” Minho lifts a finger and grins at you, “I should. If you care about someone, you can’t just walk out on them. And I did it twice now. I’m ashamed of that, it’s not how I should act.”

“You had every right to leave, though,” you admit, even though it’s hard to say out loud. “I bailed on you twice, too, and didn't even mention the sex after. It's because the first time we did it made me think about us, and I was so… confused.”

“Confused?” He hums questioningly, the look on his face still warm. You feel like this is the right moment for this conversation—neither one of you is drunk or trying to lie or run away from it, no matter how awkward and real this is. 

“It all felt so… Real. When you kissed me, I felt like I’ve been missing it for years. And the sex, I mean, it’s great, but just the way we still work well together and laugh and have fun even if we haven’t been close in years is… It scared me. I had this really stupid plan for this wedding, but when I woke up to you that morning after we saw each other here, I just got so scared, Minho.”

“What scared you, pretty?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows, his fingers gently grazing your back as if he’s trying to calm you down.

“Feelings,” you readily admit, knowing Minho deserves to hear it from you. It’s the truth, it’s what you admitted to your therapist, what you ran away from, why you didn’t even mention you two hooked up when you saw him at the airport, why you wanted to prove so badly that Chris was the one for you. “I woke up in your bed and— I usually don’t stay the night, I don’t like waking up or sleeping next to people, I hate the feeling of waking up in someone’s bed and remembering what happened before, but none of that happened with you. I woke up next to you and just wanted to stay, which I felt was irrational and stupid. I lay there thinking nothing had changed between us, even if we spent years apart. So I left. I bailed. You had every right to do the same to me.”

Minho keeps nodding as you speak, listening to every word. When you’re done, he pats your back. “Yeah, you did bail, but I'm not here to break even and try to let you get a taste of your own medicine,” Minho explains, proving once again that he’s the more mature one here. “It's not how I want us to work. I shouldn’t have left.”

Your heart starts beating louder when he uses the word us. Despite that, you take a deep breath, and don’t address it. There are things you need to explain first. “I was being pushy, though. You never promised more than sex, and I was trying to talk you into it, which was selfish, and you were completely right. What was the other option, stay there and listen to me talk about how I feel about you? It wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“Pretty, it’s not that I didn’t want to hear it.” He leans in, his breath fanning your face. “It’s just that I wanted you to be sober and completely sure of what you were saying, without all these feelings for Chris confusing you. You act on impulse often. Granted, not when it comes to important things, but I just… I didn't want you to change your mind about me as fast as you did about Chris.”

“I get that and I shouldn’t have tried to talk you into something serious that fast,” you say with a nod. You were trying to get Minho to say serious things, to commit to something with a woman who’s just been let down. Well, at least from his perspective. “But, Minho, I’m sober now. I’m not let down or hurt about the wedding at all. In fact, I have no feelings for Chris, other than friendly ones.”

You can swear Minho’s voice quivers when he asks, “And for me?”

It doesn’t take you long to answer, mostly because he looks like he’s on pins and needles while he waits for you to say something. “I have a lot of feelings for you, Minho. I haven’t had most of them for anyone else.”

His eyes meet yours for a second or two, but long enough for you to see softness in the way he looks at you, in the way the corners of his mouth move upwards as he fights off a smile. “That doesn’t sound bad at all.”

“It really isn’t.” You lean in, cocking your head to the side so you can plant a kiss on Minho’s cheek. When you do, he exhales loudly as if he’s been holding his breath the entire time. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he responds in his usual tone of voice, refusing to look at you now that you’re so close to him. “Isn’t that weird? We went without speaking for so long. We spent a week together and now we miss each other all over again.”

“I think it makes perfect sense.” You shrug and move away from him, leaning into your seat. “We just work together, even if we’re fucked up.”

“Oh, that we are,” Minho says with a chuckle, leaning back into his seat again with a sigh. His hand moves up to the back of your neck, which it squeezes here and there. “Sometimes I wonder how things would be if we’d never broken up.”

You nod because you agree—you think about that sometimes, wondering what kind of things you would have gone through together, if you’d still be together, if you’d have a family or break up in the end. Once again, you have to contradict Minho, even if it isn’t just to spite him this time. 

“I think it was a good decision,” you admit, making him look at you questioningly. “I know it hurt both of us, but I was immature. You changed a lot since then, but you were always mature and fair. You were right about the things you said that night… It was me and my insecurity that ruined the whole thing for us. I wouldn’t have changed had we stayed together. We’d just keep arguing because it’s really hard to love someone who is that insecure and refuses to work on it and expects others to help them get over it. You were right about tha—”

“Pretty, no.” Minho moves his hand down to wrap around your waist, pull you back into your seat so you’re closer to him, so he can look you in the eye while he talks to you. “I never said you were hard to love. I never felt that way. We always had a good time together and I was happy with you.”

You lean in closer, feeling like this is something other people should never hear. Minho does the same, his hand on your cheek, cupping it. You admit, “I was happy with you too. Just worried all the time.”

“I know, and that’s why it didn’t work. You were always worried about me breaking up with you or meeting someone else or being interested in someone different or not being jealous enough when I really, really didn’t care for anyone else. And Chris, no matter how nice he was to you, didn’t really help there. He had his reasons, and maybe it was for the best, but I hope you haven’t been thinking you’re hard to love because of the stupid thing I said during that phone call.”

It was the phone call that ended your relationship over a silly little thing said at a party. It wasn’t the call or what Minho said—it was how you felt the entire time, and it had nothing to do with Chris. You just thought you weren’t good enough for a guy like Minho because your insecurity always made you think of the worst possible things, convinced you he was just waiting for someone better, easier to be with to come along so he could move on. It was stupid, but you were inexperienced and immature. 

Still, hearing Minho say these words helps you close that part of your past, get over a fear that was there because of the way things ended, because of the stupid fights you caused by thinking there was no way he could be serious about you.

“Thank you,” you breathe the words out, almost thinking Minho can’t hear them, but then he smiles. “You know, it was very easy to love you. I forgot about Chris almost instantly.” 

Your hand moves up to his face and you caress his cheek, wanting to hold him for days straight. Even if nothing comes out of this, you’re happy you got to tell Minho what he deserves to hear.

“Even though I was scared you were going to dump me,” you scoff at your own stupidity, “I never even thought about being with him. But I had a lot of growing up to do. I still do, but I’m working on it.”

“You are?” Minho asks with a smirk, clearly entertained as he places his hand over yours and brings them both down to his lap, intertwining his fingers with yours. “What are you working on?”

“Getting therapy,” you admit. “Trying to be more straightforward and less stubborn.”

“I think you’re doing great,” Minho tells you. “I can see the progress already.”

“Stop!” You smack his thigh playfully. “Don’t spare my feelings all the time.”

Minho pretends to be offended, placing one of his hands over his heart dramatically before he laughs. “I’m not, I mean it. I know none of this was easy for you to say. And I appreciate that you said it. Especially the ‘easy to love' part, I liked that.”

“Good. You are.” 

You’ve never meant something more than you mean that—Minho is easy to love. You didn’t want to fall for him back then, your mind preoccupied with the best friend you were pining over, but Minho made it impossible for you to turn him down. He is funny and charming and understanding and caring, and all of that attracted you back then just as much as it does now. He’s loyal to a fault and often puts other people first. Minho finds apologizing easy, favoring the relationship over being right. He cares deeply about those around him and always tries to make them feel good. It’s impossible not to love him.

“So are you,” he says the words that make your eyes water—it’s the first time anyone’s said them to you.

“Even if I drag you to Chris’s wedding and make you think I want to be with him while I’m just scared shitless of admitting I want to be with you?” you question, still feeling a bit of shame when you mention it. Shame isn’t the right word, though, because Minho never makes you feel embarrassed about things. It’s regret—you should have been honest with him from the start.

Minho chuckles, rubbing your back. “Hm, even then. Maybe a bit too easy to fall back in love with. I told myself I’d go as your moral support, to comfort you when he inevitably turns you down, and I fucked myself over.”

“You didn't,” you contradict him, his eyes widening. “I was being an idiot. I should have told you I had no interest in Chris the second I realized it. Maybe I didn't know what exactly I wanted from you, but it would have made things a lot easier for both of us.”

“Well, it would have… I wouldn’t have taken Seoyoon up on her offer.”

You nod at that, realizing he’s regretting it, even if it’s nothing to regret, not when it comes to you two. “Really, Minho… What else was there to do?”

“I could have been an adult and just dealt with my feelings on my own. Or told you about them. But the timing wasn’t right. You were already confused over Chris, it just looked like you were holding on to me because it became clear Chris was going to get married, despite—”

“Hey, Minho,” your hand cups his face and you lean in, “I wasn’t confused over Chris. You were on my mind most of the time, you and the past and how things changed. We— We both could have said something earlier, but we didn’t. We can’t change this or the past or any of it, but we can learn from it and be more honest with each other.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A while later, you and Minho step out of the bar as he offers to walk you home. It’s far away, but you accept, knowing it buys you more time around him, more time for deep conversations, more time to fix things. You’re not sure if anything is going to happen between you two tonight or ever, but you don’t want to part ways until you’re sure Minho knows exactly how you feel about him. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, you need to get the words out instead of holding onto feelings for years.

But, he speaks first, his hand on the small of your back as you two walk down the almost empty street, save for a passer-by here and there. “Pretty, just a second, please.”

He stops walking so you do the same, turning around to face him, eyes inspecting his face questioningly. His expression gives off his nervousness, and that’s not like Minho. Did something happen? Is he going to turn you down easily now? You’re ready for it, whatever it is. 

His hands touch your waist, sneaking around to wrap around you, pull you in closer until your hips touch his. “I didn’t want to talk about this inside or over the phone, but I feel like I have to say it. I really enjoyed the last time we— That time at your place.” 

You find it cute that Minho can’t even say sex out loud because he usually has no shame, especially when it comes to this topic. He’s cocky about it, even, but not tonight. You know why—he fucked you raw for the first time since you two have met, came inside of you, and then left. It was an emotional night for you, sure, but you both took part in it. 

“It was the first time we did that, and I should have stayed with you,” he lowers his voice and leans in, gently touching your forehead with his, even if only for a brief second. “And I should have stayed on the wedding night, it wa—”

“Minho,” you cut him off, shaking your head. You don’t blame him for this, even if he clearly blames himself. You understand because you blame yourself for many things he’s clearly forgiven you for in the meantime. “I do—”

“Pretty, please let me finish,” he cuts you off, lips pursing into a thin line. “I know you’ll say it’s fine, but I still want to apologize. I feel bad for sleeping with you and leaving right after, even if you think you had it coming. I don’t keep score like that. You were emotional and I shouldn’t have slept with you and let us both get carried away. I did it twice now.”

You gulp, swallowing the lump in your throat. So it’s not the sex he regrets, it’s the emotional talk. You’re ready for this, though—you’ve discussed the option with your therapist, your homework for that day being to list what would happen if Minho happens to not reciprocate or not want to get involved with you. No matter how many things you wrote on that paper, your therapist made you come to the same conclusion for each scenario—you’d survive. “Did you say things you didn’t mean? These things happen, you don’t have to apologize.”

“No,” Minho sighs, his hands rubbing your lower back, “I meant it all. I just shouldn’t have said those things and then left. I played with your feelings, even if I felt like I was protecting my own by leaving. I just… Pretty, I didn’t want to be your second option.”

Second option? Your heart hurts for a second when you realize what kind of thoughts have been running through his head, what thoughts plagued your ex because of you and your little schemes. 

“You’re never the second option, not to me, Minho. Not back then, not now. I promise. I’ve said this before, but I mean it. You were right about Chris and how I felt about him. I realized that the second I saw him at the airport. There was nothing there, no butterflies, no attraction, no chemistry, no longing, nothing. And when I saw you walk into that bar that night, I— I replayed our entire relationship in my head instantly. I talked to you about another guy but went home with you because I couldn’t think about anyone else other than you. Just like I did when we met. Remember?”

Minho hums, pulling you into his frame until his lips touch your forehead. “Why didn’t you say it? I don’t blame you because I haven’t really told you anything either, not while we were there. I’m just curious.”

“I was scared of it,” you admit easily this time. You can’t really feel scared of anything when you’re in his arms, when you two are acting like you’re alone in the world. “I felt like I ruined every chance I had with you. The breakup was stupid and it was my fault. And then I slept with you after the Chris idea. Then on the island. It was all so messy and I just had a hard time accepting I acted stupid and hurt you and myself. I guess it was easier to believe you don’t care about me than to realize you do but I’ve fucked things up and treated you poorly.”

His hand cups your chin, makes you look into his eyes. When you do, you’re greeted with a warm smile. “And you think a guy who doesn’t care about you would go along with your plan?” 

“I thought you saw me as a friend. We still know each other well.”

“Pretty, I don’t fuck friends. To be honest, I don’t fuck anyone that way. I wouldn’t go through all that for a fuck, I hope you get that.” He pecks your forehead again and wraps his arms around you. “But we’re here now.”

“We are,” you hum back, hugging him just as tightly, resting your head on his shoulder. “So we’re good?”

“We’re perfect, as far as I’m concerned,” Minho responds, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. “We have all the time in the world to figure things out. Anything else bothering you?”

“I am kind of upset about you leaving me with your cum to clean,” you mumble, which makes him chuckle before he pulls away. When he does that, Minho grunts and grimaces.

“I’m sorry, I should have stayed at least for that. I promise to help you clean up every time from now on.” The hand on his heart is a cute touch, makes him look even more irresistible.

“Oh, from now on?” You can’t help but giggle at the promise in his words.

“Yes,” Minho grins, “from now on.”

He’s all smiles too, and you know things will be okay. You can take things slowly, get to know each other better again, be there for each other like you used to. “You sound pretty confident about getting to do it again.”

“It’s hard not to be when you look at me like that, pretty.”

You giggle, shaking your head while he smirks at you. You can never say no to him. “Maybe I’ll let you, but just on special occasions.”

“Is us getting back together a special occasion?” Minho pulls you in closer and pecks your lips. “Sounds pretty special to me.”

That night, you sleep over at Minho’s place. You two didn’t know you’d end up there—he was walking you home when you started kissing, and you somehow decided to go to his place instead of yours. More space, bigger bed, and you’ve been there before. Once you get there, it all feels right. Neither one of you is drunk or confused, and things just fall into place. Things make sense again, weirdly so. 

After a good, long fuck, you fall asleep next to someone for the first time in years, but you don’t feel bad about having someone in bed with you, even if it’s usually something you hate. It’s Minho, and you’ve slept next to him a million times before, so it seems. You’re used to his quiet breathing, the scent of his body, its warmth, and the way he unconsciously gravitates towards you in his sleep. Whenever you wake up in bed with him, he’s touching you in some way. 

This morning isn’t any different, except that it’s 3 am and you’re wide awake, Minho’s body pressed into yours from behind. He has a hard-on, which is almost unbelievable—he came twice just hours ago, and it felt like you were going at it for hours. Still, you know it’s something he can’t control, so you ignore it and try to fall asleep.

But, you can’t. 

His dick pulsates against your naked back, leaking some precum that gets smeared onto your skin, and your cunt clenches around nothing. You’re kind of sore and fucked out—in the best way possible—but you still want more, especially when you can feel how hard and warm his cock feels.

He’s asleep, so you know you’ll have to wait a while before you can have Minho, which is why you move away and put an end to the contact of his silky cock with your back. 

He grunts as you shift. The next second, his arm wraps around your front, pulling you back into his chest. “Don’t go,” he mumbles into your hair. “Pretty… Stay.”

“I’m not going,” you whisper back. Minho made you promise you’d stay the night when you went to bed last night, telling you he didn’t want you to run out and act like nothing happened. “Just moving away from your dick.”

He chuckles, squeezing you. “Sorry, can’t help it. Let’s turn around if you mind.”

“I don’t mind… I just want it.”

“Now?” Minho grumbles, but he sounds a lot more awake than he did seconds ago. 

“Can you put it in?”

And just like that, he shimmies down until he can guide his cock to your entrance from the side and stick it in you. Unsurprisingly, it slides in on the third attempt, your cunt still warm and ready, even after hours of sleep. When he bottoms out, Minho hums loudly and presses a lazy kiss to the back of your neck. “Feels perfect, pretty.”

“You do, baby,” you whisper back, fingers intertwining with his.

It goes on for a while, this lazy fucking of yours, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it. Minho’s movements are slow but pleasurable, and the feeling of his warm body pressed into the back of yours makes you feel like you’re levitating. 

“I’m never pulling out,” he informs you, voice hoarse. 

You don’t even want him to pull out. Staying in his bed forever seems appealing enough. “I let you fuck me without a condom twice, and you’re already losing it,” you joke, squeezing his hand tighter, and he laughs, nuzzling his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply. It feels like you are meant to be there.

“I’ve been losing it over you for a while now,” Minho admits, not joking at all. The statement isn’t followed by a chuckle, but by a peck on your shoulder. “The sex is just a bonus… Do you want to come?”

“I’m not sure I can,” you tell him, feeling tired but so comfortable with him. 

Minho brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks on two of them, getting them wet. When they leave his mouth and make their way down to your clit, he hums, “I’ll try anyway, hm? Maybe it will help you sleep.”

“Or maybe it will completely wake me up,” you joke, but you’re pretty sure you’ll pass out after coming and sleep like a log. 

“Oh, no, we’ll have to pull an all-nighter together!” he whispers teasingly, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum in agreement, lifting your leg in the air, resting your foot on his thigh. That way, he has better access and he can keep fucking you slowly while his fingers circle the spot he’s licked and sucked and touched for hours today. “Just don’t press too hard.”

“I forgot how sensitive you get after a couple of rounds…” Minho giggles, kissing your cheek, his cock now moving just a bit faster, in and out. It’s sloppy and wet, lazy, but so comfortable and pleasurable. You’re wet, walls swollen and still buzzing from earlier, so feeling his cock sheath through them and pull back just a bit makes you practically purr. “Couldn’t stop myself. Maybe I am selfish.”

“If this is how you being selfish ends, please be selfish some more.”

He laughs and starts kissing your neck—his lips press into it, tongue pushing through to lick the small piece of skin before slowly moving up to suck the sweet spot under your ear that makes you squirm and clench around his dick. You can’t really move away, not when his other hand is between your neck and the pillow, palm on your chest, kneading your tit. You’re locked in place, but you enjoy it. 

“Fuck,” you groan at him, feeling your walls tighten. You’re sore, clit practically numb at this point, but he’s doing such a good job with everything. It’s not just about the sex and his hands on you—it’s about his kisses and how close Minho is holding you, and the fact that you’re here together, that you both care enough to give it a try. “You’ll make me come again…”

“Good,” Minho tells you with a smile. You can’t see it, but you can hear his tone change and you just know he’s happy with himself. He should be. “Because I can’t wait to come inside you again.”

You chuckle, realizing you’ve spoiled him already, that he won’t want to go back to the old way of having sex, that your boyfriend will want to come inside of you as many times as you’ll let him—and it all just makes you happy. 

You two keep going like that for a while, eyes closed, teetering on the brink of sleep. Despite being exhausted, your body is reacting to Minho’s touch, to the feeling of having him inside of you and gently swaying his hips, of his hand rubbing your clit as softly as possible, of his other hand holding on to your chest, of his body pressed into yours. 

“Minho, don’t stop, baby, please—” Warmth spreads from the pit of your stomach to the end of your toes, making them curl, making your body clench right before you reach your high and come for him, walls clamping and releasing around his length easily, like they’re not swollen, like he hasn’t rubbed every inch of them tonight. “Yes!”

He gives you a couple of quick thrusts before he grunts your name into your neck. After that, he gets sloppy and you realize he’s filling you up quietly, pushing his erection into you as far as it can go, clearly feeling everything deeply, like you are. Maybe it's because you’re in the dark and nothing other than your breathing and panting can be heard. Maybe you feel that way because you’ve been so happy since you two met tonight. Maybe it’s because he’s just enjoying his orgasm. Whatever it is, Minho is giving the thrusts his all as he comes inside of you and kisses your cheek.

“Give me that shirt over there,” he asks of you, pointing to the shirt he sleeps in that he tactically didn’t wear tonight. Sleeping naked has its perks, and one of them is just fucking whenever you wake up without any barriers between your warm bodies.

When you hand him the shirt, Minho sits up propped on his palm, using his other hand to wipe away the cum that’s running out of you and onto your inner thigh. “I’m sorry, I can’t get up to get a towel, I’m so spent, pretty…”

“It’s fine,” you mumble, cleaning up the last thing on your mind. 

Minho wipes you clean pretty fast and throws the shirt on the floor before lying back down. “Come here,” he hums, helping you turn to face him before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his side, your head resting on his chest. “You make me happy, pretty… Hope you know it.”

Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest at his words, mostly because you know he means them. “I… Minho… I’m so happy that I never want to be without you again.”

He chuckles slowly, tangling his fingers in your hair and gently tugging at your roots. “Then don’t, pretty.”

For a while, you two lay there in silence, bodies wrapped around one another’s, his hand on your head, caressing it gently. Your body is exhausted, buzzing with pleasure, melding into his like it belongs there. Doesn’t it? 

“You were never the second option,” you reiterate your earlier conclusion just because you think Minho deserves to know this. You don’t feel like you’ve done a great job at explaining your feelings, even if you did your best. There’s so much you want him to know, but the only thing you can do is tell him how you feel every day. Create the perfect conditions. 

Minho’s palm runs across your forehead and he looks down at you with a smile. “You’re never my second option, either.”

You nod, thankful that he’s here with you now, that you’ll get to have him in your life. “I’m sorry,” you say again, for the fiftieth time tonight alone, but you can’t not feel bad when you remember everything that happened and how you almost didn’t get to explain anything, how you almost lost Minho forever because you were stubborn and childish. “I know I hurt you.”

Minho shakes his head and cups your face, humming gently. “Let’s make a deal. We stop apologizing for the past. What do you say? We’ve already explained it all. You did hurt me, but I hurt you too. We forgave each other and we’re moving past it. Don’t get stuck there, okay?”

You nod and lift your head off his chest so you can kiss him, taste him again, humming when he kisses back. It all feels so right, like you were never supposed to leave, even if it was for the best. You’ve changed for the better since then, and Minho deserves the best. “Is that a yes?”

“It is,” you say in between pecks. “Can I hold you?”

Minho titls his head to the side and smiles, his eyes closing every couple of seconds as sleep starts taking over him. “Sure.” He makes it sound like it’s nothing, even if it’s his favorite thing, so you chuckle and lay down on your back, motioning for him to come closer. 

Without a word, Minho changes positions and rests his head on your chest, lets you play with his hair while you plant soft kisses along his forehead. “I haven’t done this in a long time, and I really wanted to.”

“You have?”

“Mhm,” you hum, realizing he’s already drifting asleep now that you’re touching him the way he likes it, your fingers running up and down his skull, fingertips caressing it. “Wanted to hold you like this the first time we saw each other at the bar, and every day after. I know it’s your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite, pretty,” he mumbles, too tired to open his eyes, so you kiss him again and keep quiet so he can fall asleep. You’re not going anywhere and there will be plenty of chances to talk about how you feel about each other. Instead of saying something, you squeeze him and kiss him again, wanting him to feel he is loved.

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