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The corridor hummed with leftover energy from set. The lights at HYBE Building felt colder than the studio, a pale white that made late afternoons look like midnight rehearsals.
Sunghoon and Jake were the last ones out.
The members had already drifted ahead—laughing, joking, arguing about dinner menus. The usual chaos. But these two walked quieter. Not awkward. Just different.
Jake seemed infuriatingly normal.
Hands warm and buried in his hoodie pockets, shoulders relaxed, quietly humming some song only he could hear as if he hadn't sent Sunghoon into a five-alarm internal crisis on camera barely an hour earlier.
Sunghoon, on the other hand, was unraveling internally and Jake had no idea.
Well. Maybe he did. Which made it worse.
“Ahem.”
The sound came out sharper than intended. Jake paused mid-hum, turning his head with a crinkle between his brows.
“Hmm?”
Sunghoon exhaled through his nose. He could feel the tension inside himself unraveling, a taut thread loosening unevenly, knotting in places it shouldn’t.
“Earlier,” Sunghoon began, voice a mix between dramatic distress and genuine discomfort, “what the hell was that?”
“What?” Jake asked, tone bright, annoyingly normal. The boy could drown a nation and sound like a choir doing it.
Lovely. The feigned confusion. Of course.
Sunghoon cursed mentally—like, seriously this guy cannot be this oblivious… or is he messing with me?
“You know,” he mumbled, voice dropping a notch, ears burning already, “the question… The most delicious thing you've eaten recently? The one they asked me.”
Jake tilted his head slightly. “Yeah?”
“And your answer was… you said—” Sunghoon paused, ears flushing red at the memory like twin warning lights, “—your own name. You just said your name.”
A beat of silence.
Jake froze for precisely half a second—just long enough for Sunghoon to hope maybe, maybe, he had misread the moment.
Then, Jake burst into a loud, unfiltered riot of laughter.
Not a polite chuckle. Not a giggle. Full, head-thrown-back, shoulder-shaking, scandalous belly laughter.
“You're unbelievable,” Sunghoon muttered, lips already pulled into a pout.
Jake wiped at the corner of his eye, still grinning when he leaned in close enough for Sunghoon to smell studio hairspray and mint gum.
“Oh,” he said, smugness melting over his words like slow caramel, “so you did catch that.”
Sunghoon glared. “Catch?! You practically threw it at everyone in the room!”
Jake shrugged once, grin softening only enough to look more dangerous. “What can I say? The truth slipped out.”
Sunghoon looked horrified. “Truth my—“
“The truth,” Jake interrupted, voice dropping lower now, intimate on purpose, “that you keep eating me like I'm dessert.”
Sunghoon’s cough choked on itself. He nearly slapped his hand over his own mouth but caught himself, fingers flexing mid-air instead—fumbled instincts. Betrayed self-control.
Jake stepped closer, enough that their shoes almost tapped. The proximity felt deliberate and unfair.
“I thought maybe the question was rhetorical for you.” Jake continued, voice soft but merciless, a smile teasing on his lips.
Sunghoon shook his head repeatedly. “You're insane, genuinely.”
Jake smirked down at him. “Insane would be denying it,” he added, leaning an inch lower, eyes grazing Sunghoon's expression with shameless pleasure, “when you were practically devouring me on set.”
“Oh my g— shut up,” Sunghoon sputtered, covering half his face with his hand like that would stop the rising temperature in his entire body.
Jake leaned closer, almost cruel in his amusement.
“Besides,” Jake continued, tone unapologetic and smug, “you did give the best head. Not gonna lie. I enjoyed every second of it.”
Sunghoon’s face flamed.
Not the cute, soft rose flush he could pass off as a cold hallway. No. This was catastrophic, candle-wax-melting-down-skin red, violently undeniable blush—in the spine, the neck, the cheeks, probably the soul.
Jake smiled wider at the devastation.
“And if you wanna eat the most delicious thing again…” Jake bumped him once more with his shoulder, letting the words marinate just a moment too long, “come to my room tonight.”
He winked—one crisp, devastating blink—and walked ahead first. No hesitation. No embarrassment. No mercy.
Sunghoon stayed frozen in the hall, feeling like each light overhead was a spotlight trained to capture his collapse. He rubbed the back of his hand against his hot cheek, exhaling slowly, voice quiet enough that only the walls could bear witness.
“God,” he whispered, “I'm going to kill him.”
But even that line sounded unconvincing when it came wrapped in a small, involuntary smile.
Because he would be there tonight.
Alive. Starving. And damned willing to take another bite.