Work Text:
The second to the last week of November hit JL with a peculiar ache—half nostalgia, half looming holiday anxiety. It was the kind of ache that whispered, "Here we go again", every time he heard another mall speaker blasting Jose Mari Chan for the eight-thousandth time. Manila was already drowning in lights: giant parols glowing on building fronts, malls switching to full Christmas mode, and street vendors selling bibingka and puto bumbong like clockwork.
Which would’ve been perfect and magical if JL’s love life wasn’t still a barren wasteland.
And it wasn’t as if he didn’t try.
Well… fine. He didn’t try very hard. But he certainly wished. Hard.
His most dramatic attempt was last New Year’s Eve, when he crouched under his family’s dining table like a gremlin, scarfing down twelve grapes while making twelve wishes for a boyfriend.
Twelve grapes.
Twelve wishes.
Twelve extremely close encounters with death by choking.
Of all the grape variants, his younger brothers, Chihen and Daisuke, chose to get Muscat grapes for New Year. So yeah... imagine choking on those.
And now, with December peeking around the corner like a nosy tita, not a single wish had come true. Yet.
“Why are you sighing like a broke af tita?” Zhangshu asked, sliding into the pantry seat beside him with a steaming mug of black coffee.
Before JL could defend his honor, Woongki took a sip of spanish latte and said, far too casually, “He’s thinking about Han again.”
“I am not—” JL began, ready to deny everything, except of course the universe hated him and had comedic timing straight out of a K-drama.
“Morning, Jaeyelie.”
Park Han entered the pantry like a scene-stealer in a romance movie—handsome and broad-shouldered, dressed in a fitted black long-sleeve polo that hugged him in ways clearly illegal in several countries. His hair was softly curled at the ends today, giving him that effortlessly handsome look JL was unprepared for this early in the morning.
Han was their resident architect… and JL’s unofficial official work husband. A title bestowed by their officemates who had long given up pretending not to see how close and synchronized the two were. They moved around each other like they shared a brain cell—finishing each other’s design notes, bickering over floor plan details, and communicating entire thoughts with one raised eyebrow.
Han brushed past JL to reach for the instant coffee jar, and JL swore he forgot how to inhale.
Stupid grapes.
Why had they not delivered a boyfriend when one (1) perfect architectural specimen was making coffee right next to him?
“JL, you’re staring,” Woongki whispered, voice far too gleeful.
“I’m thinking,” JL hissed, cheeks heating.
“Thinking about how wide his shoulders are?” Zhangshu added.
"Or how his arms and his arm veins look so good right now?" Woongki chimed in.
JL kicked them both in swift succession under the table.
Han, blissfully unaware, glanced over his shoulder. “You okay, Jaeyelie?"
“Perfect!” JL squeaked. “Just… breathing.”
Han’s mouth curved into the kind of smile that was soft, warm, and devastating—eyes crinkling at the corners. A smile that felt like a hug. Or a flirtation. Or both.
“Good,” Han said gently. “Don’t stop doing that.”
JL’s brain promptly short-circuited. His friends stared at him like proud stage moms watching their child in a school play.
And JL seriously considered crawling back under a table to hide—grapes or no grapes involved.
By lunchtime, JL had managed to shove his spiraling thoughts about love, destiny, and work husbands into the deepest corner of his mind—or so he thought. He was sketching a bedroom layout, lines and measurements spread neatly across his drafting table, when the memory came crashing back like a rogue tidal wave.
“What if the wish grapes have an expiration date?” he muttered, poking at a bed frame design with a pencil.
Juwon barely looked up from his engineering revisions. “What wish grapes?”
“The… New Year’s Eve wish grapes. You know, that viral tradition? Eat twelve grapes under the table at midnight for good luck, life wishes yada yada or a love life?” JL said, trying to sound casual while feeling like the universe had just handed him a neon sign saying pathetic.
Juwon blinked, unimpressed. “Bakit ka nasa ilalim ng table non'?”
“Well, duh, the rules say so. And also so Mamita doesn’t see me trying to finish off eating all 12 grapes at once,” JL said with mock pride. “She would have scolded me for eating too fast.”
Juwon stared at him like JL had grown two heads. “Did it work then?”
JL let out a dramatic sigh, resting his head in his hands. “Well… I almost choked on grape number nine. Other than that near-death experience? Absolutely zero luck.”
Juwon just shook his head, muttering something about JL needing professional intervention or Woongki and Shuaibo hyung's magic.
But JL barely heard him because right at that moment, Park Han slid into the seat beside him, so close their shoulders brushed. JL’s heart forgot how to beat.
“Hey,” Han murmured, leaning over his shoulder, peeking at the sketch. “Your proportions are a little off. Here—” His hand brushed JL’s wrist as he guided the pencil with a practiced, gentle touch. “Try this line instead.”
JL’s mind immediately short-circuited. He forgot how arms worked, how breathing worked, maybe even how gravity worked.
Juwon’s voice cut through the haze like a nature documentary narrator. “You two are so married, it’s insane.”
“We are not—” JL sputtered, his cheeks warming like a solar panel in direct sunlight.
“We’re not,” Han said calmly, eyes focused on the sketch, voice soft but certain. “But Jaeyel… you’re very important to me.”
JL.exe stopped working.
For a full three seconds, he just stared, pencil forgotten, body frozen in an awkward half-lean toward Han. The room seemed to shrink around them, the hum of office chatter fading into white noise.
“Important?” JL echoed faintly, because that couldn’t possibly count as a normal work-husband thing, right?
Han smiled, that slow, eye-crinkling smile that made knees weak and brains melt. “Yeah. You know… in all the ways that matter.”
JL’s carefully constructed mental barriers collapsed like poorly stacked dominoes. The grapes, the wishes, the entire calendar year of lonely sighs—it all suddenly seemed like it had been leading to this one moment.
And of course, JL was entirely, hopelessly, predictably, hopelessly in trouble and maybe still in denial.
The thing about Han was that he was the classic textbook work husband.
Not in a cute, occasional-helping way. In the “you will never lift a finger unnecessarily ever again” kind of way.
He always remembered the little things:
* Buying JL’s favorite strawberry matcha latte drink before JL even had the chance to grumble about craving for it.
* Carrying JL’s massive sample boards around like they weighed nothing at all, while JL struggled to look dignified.
* Sending him messages that were equal parts concern and gentle nagging:
Eat lunch. I know you’ll forget again.
Wear a jacket tomorrow, it’s colder.
Call me when you get home.
Not boyfriend things.
Definitely not.
Just… very intense, strangely personal work-husband behavior that made JL simultaneously grateful and completely flustered.
Today was no different.
After a long, exhausting client meeting, JL collapsed onto the couch in the office lounge, his sketchpad sliding off the armrest. He felt every bone in his body negotiating mutiny.
Han, of course, didn’t miss a beat. He sat beside JL and, almost automatically, draped JL’s legs over his lap. “You overworked again,” he said, thumb tracing tiny, gentle circles on JL’s ankle like it was the most natural thing in the world.
JL’s eyes widened. “I—I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Just tired.”
“You’re burning yourself out,” Han murmured, still gently kneading at JL’s ankle. “You’re allowed to lean on me, you know.”
JL forgot how to breathe for a solid ten seconds. He tried to protest, tried to remind himself this was “just work-husband behavior,” but the way Han’s fingers brushed his skin, calm and deliberate, had his brain short-circuiting.
“That’s—” JL swallowed hard. “That’s not very work-husband of you, Hani hyung.”
Han tilted his head, amused, eyes glinting. “Maybe I want a promotion then.”
JL blinked, heart stuttering. “Promotion… to…?”
Han leaned in slightly, letting the corner of his smile do all the talking. “You’re dense, Jaeyelie, but not that dense.”
JL’s face went crimson. He scrambled to his feet. “I—I need water.”
He pivoted too quickly and walked straight into the water dispenser, nearly bumping his shoulder against it. The thud echoed embarrassingly in the lounge.
Han was about to catch him but he leaned back on the couch, laughing quietly under his breath, the soft sound warm and teasing. “Smooth,” he murmured, shaking his head.
JL yelped, glaring at the water dispenser like it had personally betrayed him. Meanwhile, Han’s laughter grew, eyes sparkling with amusement.
JL’s brain short-circuited again.
That night after work, JL was just about to leave when the chaos trio—Zhangshu, Juwon, and Woongki—cornered him at the convenience store downstairs. JL had thought he was alone, thinking about sketch corrections and late dinner, but apparently the universe had other plans.
“JL-yah,” Zhangshu started, crossing his arms and giving him a look that meant business. “We need to talk.”
JL froze, clutching his grocery bag like it could shield him. “Uh… what about?”
“You’re in denial,” Zhangshu declared, stepping closer. His tone was firm, but there was that undercurrent of teasing that made JL groan.
“Architect Daddy Park Han literally looks at you like you’re the only person in the room,” Woongki added, leaning casually against the snack aisle. “Like… eyes-only-for-Jaeyelie levels.”
JL’s face heated. “I… that’s just… close friendship! Work husband stuff—”
Juwon held up a hand, cutting him off. “Friendship doesn’t include spoon-feeding you caring gestures like it’s a full-time job. And don’t even start on that grape wish. You literally ate grapes under a table last New Year’s Eve for a boyfriend when a perfectly fine architect is right there, giving you everything you thought you wanted.”
JL buried his face in his hands, groaning. “He’s my close friend. My work husband! If I confess and ruin it—”
“Babe,” Zhangshu interrupted gently, resting a hand on JL’s shoulder. “You’re not ruining anything he’s already offering. He’s giving it willingly. He’s Han. And he’s yours for the taking, if you’d just let him in.”
Woongki smirked, leaning closer. “And we’re not blind. He’s whipped. Completely, absolutely whipped for you. Like, starry-eyed, head-over-heels whipped.”
JL peeked between his fingers, mortified and slightly melting at the same time. “I—he’s not—he’s just being… helpful and nice!”
“Helpful and nice?” Juwon echoed, raising an eyebrow. “JL hyung, the guy has been checking if you ate lunch, reminding you to wear a jacket, guiding your pencil strokes, carrying your peg boards and swatchboards, and—”
“—letting me drape my legs over him!” JL blurted, eyes wide.
“Exactly,” Zhangshu said triumphantly. “And you’re telling us this is ‘just work husband behavior’?”
JL groaned, kicking a small stack of empty Yakult bottles. “I—ugh! You all are terrible! I’m doomed!”
Woongki chuckled, giving him a light nudge. “Nope. You’re not doomed. You’re saved. All you have to do is… let it all happen.”
Juwon smirked. “Go on. Accept your feelings. His feelings. Go confess or something. Or at least stop thinking of him as just your work husband and admit he’s—”
“—probably my boyfriend-in-waiting,” JL muttered, face red enough to roast a marshmallow.
The trio exchanged knowing grins. “Exactly,” Zhangshu said, beaming. “Now go get your architect daddy boyfie before we do it for you.”
JL groaned again, clutching his grocery bag like armor, muttering to himself: Is this why the grapes took so long then? Maybe the answer was literally in the office all along. Should I really check?
After his talk with his besties, JL still tried to convince himself it was all just “work husband” behavior so he decided to observe more. After all, Hani-hyung did always help with sketches, carry sample boards, and check in on him like a responsible colleague should.
But lately, it was… different.
Monday afternoon, JL’s phone buzzed:
Did you eat lunch? I know you didn’t. – Han
JL sighed, typing back: I had a granola bar, hyungie.
Not enough. Eat properly or I’ll tell Mamita you’re neglecting your health. – Han
JL stared at the screen, frozen. Who tf casually threatens you like that and it you're not even dating?
He tried to shake it off. It was just Hani hyung being… Hani. Work-husband Hani.
Tuesday, JL returned from a client site with sore arms from lugging peg boards and swatches. Han appeared like some magical architect ninja.
“Let me,” Han said, gently taking the boards from JL’s trembling hands. The way his fingers brushed JL’s palms made JL’s brain short-circuit.
“Thanks,” JL mumbled, trying to focus on not melting where he stood.
Han tilted his head, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “You know, you really shouldn’t exhaust yourself like this. I’d worry if you weren’t so stubborn.”
JL’s stomach did a weird flip. “I—I can manage,” he said too quickly.
Han’s hand lingered on one of the boards a beat longer than necessary before letting go. “Sure, but don’t forget… you’re allowed to let me help.”
JL internally groaned. Stop flirting like it’s natural, Hani-hyung. It’s making me lose my mind.
Wednesday, JL sat in the lounge finishing sketches, headphones on. His phone buzzed again.
It’s cold today. Wear a jacket. You’ll get sick otherwise. – Han
JL muttered to himself, scrolling through his wardrobe. “It’s… it’s fine. I’m fine. Jacket unnecessary.”
Fine? That’s not an acceptable answer. Also, I’ll judge your fashion choices if you don’t. – Han
JL’s blush spread across his face. Judge my fashion choices? He’s joking… right?
When Han arrived in the office later, he did smirk knowingly at JL’s choice of sweater.
JL nearly fell out of his chair.
Thursday, during a quick lunch break in the pantry, Han leaned against the counter, casually brushing JL’s shoulder as he reached for a cup.
“You’re tense,” Han said softly. “Want to vent?”
JL froze mid-sip. “I… I’m fine,” he said, though his pulse betrayed him.
Han tilted his head, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Tsk tsk. You’re lying. You’re always lying.”
JL groaned, dropping his spoon. “I… I can’t. You… you make it impossible to lie.”
Han leaned a little closer, just enough that JL felt the warmth radiating off him. “Good,” he whispered. “I like honesty with you.”
JL internally screamed. He’s not supposed to be this close. He’s just… being… work-husband-y…
By Friday, JL had to admit it—he couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. Han’s texts, gentle touches, teasing glances, and small gestures weren’t “just work husband behavior.”
JL leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He’s flirting with me. He’s… kind, caring. He’s… sweet. And I… I like it. A lot.
Then, his phone buzzed:
Leave work on time today. Have dinner with me please? – Han
JL nearly dropped his phone. Dinner with him?
He stared at the message, heart hammering. Finally, he typed back: Okay. I’ll see you later.
As he hit send, JL realized something terrifying and exhilarating all at once: the grapes he’d eaten last New Year’s Eve—those twelve near-death, wish-laden grapes—finally worked.
Only… it hadn’t been magic. It had been Han all along. It has always been Han.
JL smiled, heart swelling. Okay fine. Maybe, just maybe, work husbands could become something a lot more delicious—and a lot more real and permanent.
Now that he finally realized it, he's now off panicking about what should he do next?
The First Week of December Came With a Side of JL Avoiding Han Like a Criminal Avoiding CCTV. For three whole days, JL behaved like someone who owed Han money.
If Han walked into the pantry, JL suddenly remembered he urgently needed to water the office plants.
If Han stopped by his desk, JL pretended to be intensely fascinated by the cracks in the wall.
If Han tried to talk to him, JL choked on air. Twice.
Woongki, Zhangshu, and Juwon watched the whole thing from a distance, collectively unimpressed.
“He’s glitching,” Woongki whispered.
“He probably needs a reboot,” Juwon added.
Zhangshu sighed, sipping his iced coffee. “This is why he almost died eating grapes.”
And through all of it, Han remained painfully patient.
But also… observant.
When JL quickly pretended to type nonsense on his keyboard the moment Han approached, Han raised an eyebrow.
When JL just nodded aggressively to the point of tripping at his “Good morning, Jaeyelie”, Han just stared.
When JL hid behind the sample cabinet when he saw Han walking toward him, Han just stopped and quietly said, “...Really?”
"Hi, Hani-hyung!" JL just squeaked like a frightened hamster and fled.
It was only a matter of time before Han snapped.
December 5 — Friday
Their office work finished early. Employees were packing up, excited about dinner plans and discounted milk tea. The sunset outside the windows painted everything gold, warm, and almost too romantic for JL’s fragile heart.
JL was gathering his stuff, very proud of having avoided one (1) architect today, when—
“Jaeyelie.”
The voice was soft. Gentle. And directly behind him.
JL jolted so hard he dropped his almost dropped his belongings.
Han stood there, hands casually in his pockets, eyes impossibly warm. “Walk with me please?”
JL’s brain screamed NO but his mouth said: “Y-Yes.”
And that was how he ended up walking beside Han toward the rooftop, heart pounding so loud he was sure Han could hear it.
The Rooftop
Wind brushed past their cheeks, carrying December’s first bite of cold.
Below them, Manila sprawled in glowing amber—city lights twinkling like scattered stars, horns muffled by height, the hum of life softened by distance.
JL had always loved the view.
But tonight… he realized something.
Every time he had been here, on this quiet rooftop sanctuary, Han had been beside him.
And every time Han had come here alone for a breather, JL was the only person he ever brought.
His throat tightened.
This wasn’t just a place Han liked. This was a place Han shared—with him and no one else.
“Jaeyelie,” Han said softly, leaning back against the railing.
The orange light from the building’s signage outlined his jaw, his cheekbones, the gentle crease in his brows. Against the wind, he looked tall, steady, breathtaking.
JL’s heart was beating in confusing Morse code: Panic. Hope. Fear. Want. All at once.
“I need to ask you something,” Han continued.
JL swallowed. “Okay…”
Han’s eyes lifted to meet his—warm, but weighed down with worry.
“Did I… do something wrong?”
JL’s brain short-circuited. “What? No!”
“Do you hate me that much?”
“No! I'd never hate you!"
“Do you already like someone else?”
JL’s soul practically left his body. “HANI HYUNG, NO—why would you even think that?!”
Han inhaled—slow, controlled, but JL could see it: the hurt hiding beneath.
“Then why are you avoiding me?” Han asked quietly. “Why can’t you look at me? Why do you act like choosing me is some kind of terrible risk?”
JL froze, breath evaporating into the December air.
Han stepped closer—not touching, just close enough that JL could feel the warmth radiating off him.
Han continued, voice soft but undeniably hurt, “Every time I get close lately… you run away. I reach for you, and you slip through my fingers.”
JL’s throat tightened. “I—I don’t—”
“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Han asked quietly.
“No,” JL said instantly, stepping closer. “No, you don’t. You… you make me feel—”
Han moved toward him, closing the distance just enough to make JL’s breath hitch.
“Feel what?” Han whispered.
JL swallowed hard. His chest clenched.
“Safe,” he murmured. “And cared for. And… so stupidly special I keep wondering if I’m imagining it.”
Something inside Han’s expression broke open—tenderness, relief, yearning all at once.
“Then why are you scared, Jaeyelie?” Han asked, voice cracking from how hard he was trying to stay calm. “Why run from something you clearly want?”
JL’s eyes burned.
Because saying it out loud made it real. Because loving Han—really, fully—meant risking the one person he didn’t know how to lose.
Hani hyung was his close friend. His work husband. His everyday person. His constant.
What if choosing love meant losing all that?
But then Han reached out.
His fingertips brushed JL’s wrist—gentle, reassuring, so full of unspoken devotion it undid him.
“Jaeyelie,” Han murmured, “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”
He looked up.
Really looked.
And suddenly, everything felt obvious.
The caring texts.
The gentle touches.
The acts of service that feel so natural.
The way Han always waited for him, protected him, grounded him.
The way JL always felt like he was coming home when Han just smiled at him.
The twelve stupid grapes.
The wishes.
The stupid tradition.
Maybe they weren’t supposed to conjure a boyfriend out of thin air.
Maybe they were supposed to help him see that the love he was asking and waiting for had been beside him all along.
JL took a breath, stepped closer—just one small, trembling step—until his fingers brushed Han’s sleeve.
“H-Hani hyung…” JL whispered, voice small and fragile. “Can we… try? I… I want to try. With you.”
Han’s breath hitched—a sound so raw JL felt it in his bones.
Han covered JL’s hand with his own, warm and grounding.
“Jaeyelie,” Han said softly, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.”
JL’s cheeks flamed red.
Han’s thumb brushed over his knuckles, tender, reverent.
And then—so quietly JL almost didn’t hear it—
“Because I love you.”
JL’s breath stopped.
Han held his gaze, steady, sincere, heart laid bare.
“I love you, Jaeyelie.”
JL’s lips parted—shocked, overwhelmed, and impossibly full.
“H-Hani hyung…” JL whispered. “I… I love you too.”
The wind swept around them, cool but gentle.
Below them, the city glimmered.
And something in JL’s chest—something locked away for so long—finally opened. Han’s expression softened into something luminous.
“Come here.”
JL didn’t get the chance to respond.
Han leaned down and kissed him—soft, slow, reverent. A first kiss made of everything intentional, everything tender. JL kissed back, shy but certain, hands curling into Han’s shirt as warmth bloomed everywhere.
Han deepened the kiss with quiet devotion, like he was memorizing JL’s breath, his softness, his trembling courage.
The wind tangled through their hair. The city lights flickered below.
And wrapped in Han’s arms, JL felt something indescribably magical— as if every wish he had asked the universe for was unfolding right there, beneath December’s sky.
On that windy rooftop, wrapped in orange city lights, JL suddenly understood—
Some wishes don’t fall from the sky.
Some wishes walk into the pantry every morning, bring you Strawberry matcha latte drinks, and look at you like you are their whole world.
EPILOGUE
The next day, Saturday, JL walked into the office looking like a man who had been kissed under moonlight and was still recovering.
Soft smile. Pink cheeks. Floating instead of walking.
He should’ve known the universe wouldn’t let him enjoy peace.
Because the moment he set his bag down—
“HEY.” Zhangshu slammed a hand on JL’s desk.
“Explain,” Woongki hissed, holding his iced Americano like a weapon.
Juwon looked personally betrayed. “Why did we have to learn from CCTV footage?! Why not from your mouth?!”
JL blinked. “I—what—CCTV—”
And then a chair rolled behind them.
Jeongwoo, Han's friend from IT, smirking like the devil, leaned back in the swivel chair he somehow stole from another department.
“Morning,” he said cheerfully. “I brought the mini projector.”
“The WHAT?!” JL yelped, horrified.
Too late.
Jeongwoo pressed a button on the remote and the nearest monitor lit up—
ROOFTOP – 12/05 – 7:27 PM
There they were. JL and Han. Talking. Stepping closer.
And then—
THE KISS.
Zhangshu screamed like a yaoi fangirl discovering a surprise chapter drop.
“OH MY GOD??? THE WAY HE HOLDS YOUR FACE??? THE WAY YOU MELT??? THIS IS SOOO CINEMATIC. THIS IS ART. THIS IS WHY SECURITY CAMERAS WERE INVENTED.”
Woongki slapped the desk so hard the pens rattled.
“HAN WAS ABOUT TO EAT YOU AND YOUR LIPS ALIVE—WE HAVE BEEN DEPRIVED OF THIS CONTENT FOR MONTHS. IMAGINE THE SLOWBURN WE HAD TO ENDURE!!!"
Juwon held his temples like he had a migraine.
“JL hyung, you said you were ‘just getting fresh air.’ You liar. You soft, sweet, freshly-kissed liar.”
He threw a tissue dramatically.
“I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU. I WAS CHEERING FOR YOU. AND YOU LET CCTVs WIN BEFORE FRIENDSHIP.”
JL— DYING
JL covered his face with both hands.
“I DIDN’T KNOW THERE WAS A CAMERA!!!”
Jeongwoo snorted. “JL-ah, this is a construction firm. We have more cameras than employees.”
“TURN IT OFF!” JL begged.
“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” Zhangshu said, hitting the rewind button. “We’re analyzing the body language.”
“Please—”
“SHHH. WE ARE STUDYING THE FOOTAGE.”
Zhangshu pointed at the screen like a professor.
“Here—here! Look how he tilts his head. That’s a man in LOVE.”
Woongki nodded sagely. “Zoom in. Enhance please. I need to see the hand placement.”
Juwon pointed accusingly at JL. “YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T KNOW IF HE LIKED YOU. LOOK AT HOW HE IS EATING YOUR LIPS LIKE YOU’RE THE LAST FOOD ON EARTH.”
JL: “CAN YOU ALL PLEASE STOP—”
Jeongwoo paused the video dramatically.
“Guys… do you want the audio?”
“THERE’S AUDIO?!” JL screamed.
Before Jeongwoo could play it—
A voice came from behind them.
“Why are you watching a CCTV footage of me and my boyfriend?”
Every head snapped around.
Han.
Standing there.
Arms crossed.
Looking absolutely calm… but his lips were twitching into a smirk.
Zhangshu choked on air.
Woongki became a statue.
Juwon’s soul exited the building.
JL wanted to evaporate instantly.
Jeongwoo simply shrugged. “For research.”
Han walked forward, placing a hand on JL’s shoulder.
“Then just look at this for research—” he leaned down and pressed a soft, quick kiss to JL’s lips.
JL nearly ascended. Nearly.
Zhangshu screamed again.
Woongki slid to the floor.
Juwon wiped a few happy tears.
Jeongwoo clapped like he was watching a proposal.
Han whispered, “Come on, Jaeyelie. Let’s get breakfast.”
JL let himself be led away as their friends erupted behind him in chaotic cheers.
END~