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I heard their voices, hushed now, a low murmur behind me. I didn’t try to decipher their words. Not only that, but I just focused on the cold water and the rhythmic thud of my own heartbeat. Losing was one thing. The relentless taunting, especially from Keonho, was another. It always felt like a betrayal, even when I knew it was just his way of showing affection. A very annoying way.
A warm presence materialized beside me. A familiar scent, a mix of citrus and something uniquely him, filled the air. I kept my gaze fixed on the condensation forming on the water bottle.
“Still pouting?” Keonho’s voice, now softer and closer, whispered near my ear.
I didn’t respond.
“Come on,” he coaxed, his fingers lightly brushing my arm. “It was just a game.”
I flinched away, pulling my arm back. The casual touch, usually so welcome, felt like an invasion. My annoyance, a sharp, prickly thing, bristled.
A sigh escaped him, a soft puff of air. “Okay, okay. I get it. You’re mad.”
I still didn’t look at him.
“You’re really mad,” he corrected himself, a hint of something deeper in his tone now. He moved, positioning himself so he was directly in my line of sight. His eyes, usually so bright and mischievous, were serious now, tinged with concern. “What do I need to do to get a smile out of you?”
“Nothing, fuck off.” I mumbled, turning my head slightly, avoiding his gaze. “Just leave me alone.”
He didn’t move. Instead, he leaned against the counter beside me, his presence a solid, unyielding force. “I can’t do that. Not when you look like someone stole your last ramyeon.”
A small, involuntary huff of air escaped me. I still didn’t smile.
“Was it really that bad?” he asked, his voice low, almost contemplative. “The teasing?”
I finally looked at him, my eyes narrowed. “You know it was. You were the worst.”
He had the audacity to chuckle, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air between us. “I thought I was being endearing.”
“You were being an asshole.” I corrected, my voice sharp.
He pushed off the counter, moving closer, his hands rising, palms open in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. I can be that sometimes. But my intentions are pure.”
“Pure annoyance,” I countered.
He closed the distance, his hip brushing mine. The warmth of his body radiated, a familiar comfort, even through my irritation. “Come here,” he murmured, his voice a soft invitation. He tried to wrap an arm around me, his intention clear. "What can I do for my princess? You didn't even let me touch your shoulder before."
I stiffened, a wall of resistance rising within me. “Don’t touch me.”
His arm dropped slowly, reluctantly. The playful light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a flicker of hurt. “Seonghyeonie...”
The quietness of his voice, the subtle shift in his demeanor, almost broke through my stubbornness. Almost. But the image of his triumphant grin, his mocking giggles during the game, still stung.
“I just need space,” I said, my voice softer now, but still firm. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He watched me, his gaze intense, searching. He knew this wasn’t just about the game. It was about the accumulation, the feeling of being picked on, even playfully. He always managed to find that one nerve and pluck it.
“Alright, the silent treatment.” he conceded, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step back, giving me the space I’d demanded. But he didn’t leave. He just stood there, a silent, watchful presence.
The silence stretched, heavy and thick. I could feel his gaze on me, a constant pressure. It was worse than the teasing. His quiet concern and his patient waiting chipped away at my resolve. I hated how easily he could disarm me.
“It’s not just the game,” I finally admitted, my voice low, barely audible. I still kept my back mostly to him, staring out the small window that overlooked the city street, the distant lights blurring into streaks of color. “It’s…everything. The way you all just…ganged up.”
“We didn’t gang up,” he corrected gently. “We were just having fun. You know how we are, and you do that too, even worse sometimes.”
“I know,” I sighed, the fight draining out of me, leaving behind a profound weariness. “But it was worse for me because it felt like... me against everyone.”
He took another step closer, his voice a soft murmur. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was bothering you that much.”
I turned then, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were wide, earnest, reflecting the city lights outside. “You never do.” I accused, a hint of bitterness in my tone, but the atmosphere was lighter now.
“That’s not fair,” he replied, his voice firm now, but still gentle. "You're so dramatic." He paused, then his lips curved into a small, tentative smile. “And you’re so cute when you’re mad.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting,” he insisted, his hands raising again, this time in a gesture of peace. “I’m just stating a fact. Your little pout, your furrowed brow… it’s so fucking cute that's why I was laughing, it makes me want to tease you even more.”
I scoffed, but a tiny flutter in my chest betrayed my annoyance. He knew exactly how to dismantle my defenses.
“Okay, no more compliments,” he promised, his voice laced with amusement. “Unless you want them. Do you want them? I can give you more compliments. You’re brilliant, you’re talented, your voice is like an angel’s…”
“Keonho,” I warned, a small smile threatening to break through.
He grinned, a full, dazzling display that always stole my breath. “Okay, okay! But you have to tell me what will make it better. What does my princess need?”
I rolled my eyes, but the term, his pet name for me, always warmed me despite myself. “I need you to stop being annoying.”
“Impossible,” he declared, shaking his head dramatically. “It’s part of my charm. You fell in love with it, remember?”
“I fell in love with a lot of things,” I muttered, looking away again.
He chuckled, a low, rich sound. “And I’m going to remind you of all of them.” He reached out, his hand sliding slowly up my arm, fingers tracing a path over my bicep, then around my shoulder. His touch was light, almost hesitant, yet it sent a shiver down my spine.
My breath hitched. I tried to maintain my stony expression, but the warmth spreading through my skin made it impossible. He leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin behind my ear.
“I know you,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. His hand moved from my shoulder, sweeping down my back, settling on the curve of my waist. He pulled me gently, subtly, closer."You just need my attention and affection, right?
I stiffened, a last, desperate attempt at resistance. He merely tightened his grip, his thumb pressing into my hipbone. Then his lips were on my neck, a slow, deliberate exploration. He tasted the skin, a soft suck, before a playful nip made me gasp. My head fell back against the counter, exposing more of my throat.
He took advantage, his mouth trailing fire down my neck, his other hand moving to my abdomen, fingers splaying across the sensitive skin beneath my shirt. His touch was feather-light, yet it commanded my attention. He worked his way upwards, his fingers teasing the hem of my shirt, then sliding underneath, brushing against my skin.
“I'm right.” he whispered, his lips pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the pulse point at my throat.
My eyes fluttered shut. My annoyance, a stubborn knot in my chest, began to unravel. “Keonho…” The word was a breathless plea, not a protest.
His fingers found the edge of my nipple, a soft, excruciating brush that made me arch into his touch. A low groan escaped me. The playful taunting had transformed into something else entirely, something primal and consuming.
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his own dark with desire, a triumphant glint now replacing the earlier amusement. He knew he had me.
“That was what you needed to calm down?” he whispered, his voice husky, his breath warm against my lips.
I didn’t answer with words. I just met him halfway, my lips parting beneath his. The kiss was slow at first, a gentle exploration, a reawakening of familiar warmth. Then it deepened, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin. My own hands found their way to his hair, my fingers tangling in the soft strands at his nape, pulling him closer, desperate for more.
His mouth moved against mine, hot and slow, a consuming rhythm that stole my breath, my thoughts, everything but the sensation of him. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, then delved inside, claiming me. The world outside, the stupid game, the lingering annoyance—all faded away, replaced by the singular, overwhelming sensation of him. His hips pressed into mine, the hard line of his body a familiar, welcome weight.
When he finally pulled away, a soft sigh escaped my lips. My eyes fluttered open, meeting his. His gaze was intense, full of affection, a deep, unwavering love.
“Better?” he asked again, his voice thick with emotion.
I smiled, a genuine, unforced smile that reached my eyes. “Much better.”