Chapter Text
The card declined on the third try.
Jake stared at the register screen as if sheer willpower might force the numbers to rearrange themselves. As if the machine might realize its mistake and correct it out of courtesy. It didn’t. The red error message stayed exactly where it was, bright and unforgiving.
The shop suddenly felt too clean. Too white. Every surface gleamed, polished to the point where it reflected him back at himself. Soft lighting glowed over rows of luxury bags displayed behind glass, each one quietly mocking him.
The cashier hesitated before speaking, lips pressed together in that careful, professional way people used when they were trying not to embarrass someone who was already doing a fine job of that on their own.
“I’m sorry,” she said gently, sliding the card back across the counter. “It seems to not be working.”
Jake frowned, the words leaving him before he’d had time to soften them. “That’s not possible.” He said it like a fact. Like gravity or the color of the sky.
The cashier’s eyes flicked briefly to the screen, then back to him. She lowered her voice, as if discretion might somehow help. “It happened twice already, sir.”
Something hot and sharp twisted in his chest. Jake grabbed the card, turning it over in his fingers like it had personally betrayed him. The familiar weight of it suddenly felt wrong, cheap and useless. His phone was in his hand before he fully registered the decision to pull it out, thumb already moving on instinct.
He called his grandfather.
The ring sounded obscenely loud in the quiet shop. Once. Twice. Jake could feel eyes on him now, even if no one was openly staring. He shifted his weight, jaw tight, pulse beating in his ears.
Then the call connected.
“Jaeyun.”
The voice on the other end was calm Which somehow made everything worse.
Jake didn’t bother with pleasantries. “What did you do?”
There was a pause, not dramatic, not hesitant. Just deliberate. The kind that said the silence itself was part of the answer.
“I blocked your card.”
Jake blinked, genuinely unsure if he’d heard that right. “You what?”
“I blocked it.”
His grip on the phone tightened. “Are you insane? I’m literally standing at a register right now.”
“That,” his grandfather replied evenly, “is unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?” Jake echoed, disbelief bleeding into his voice. “Do you hear yourself right now?”
“I hear you,” the man said simply.
Heat crept up Jake’s neck, his face burning as reality sank in. He turned slightly away from the counter, lowering his voice even though anger kept pushing it higher. The cashier was suddenly very interested in rearranging receipts. Two women nearby pretended to browse, their curiosity poorly hidden behind half-hearted glances.
“Unblock it,” Jake snapped.
“No.”
A sharp, humorless laugh tore out of him. “You can’t just—”
“I can,” his grandfather cut in calmly. “And I did.”
Jake closed his eyes for a second, breathing through his nose, trying not to explode in the middle of a luxury boutique. “I’m coming over.”
“Good.”
That single word made him pause. His grandfather continued, tone unchanged, “Come over. I’d rather say this once, face to face, than repeat myself over the phone.”
The line went dead.
Jake stared at his screen, thumb hovering uselessly over it. For a moment, he just stood there, chest tight, feeling small in a way he wasn’t used to feeling. Controlled. Cornered.
Then, because he was Jake, and because outrage was easier than admitting how shaken he was, he straightened, turned back to the counter, and forced his mouth into something that vaguely resembled a smile.
“Never mind,” he said tightly.
The cashier nodded, professional to the end. “Would you like us to hold the items for an hour?”
The question landed like salt in an open wound.
No. He would not.
An hour later, he was standing in his grandfather’s office with his arms crossed and his expression arranged into something cold and offended, like he hadn’t just spent the entire ride over rehearsing every argument he planned to win.
His grandfather sat behind a heavy wooden desk, hands folded, glasses low on his nose. He looked the same as always. severe, neat, impossible to impress.
Jake didn’t wait. “You can’t block my card without telling me.”
“You were told the moment it happened.”
Jake scoffed. “That is not the point.”
His grandfather looked up. “Then make the point.”
He hated this man sometimes. Not because he was loud or cruel, but because he was worse than that. He was controlled. He could sit there and say something devastating in a voice that sounded almost kind.
Finally Jake said, “You humiliated me.”
His grandfather’s expression didn’t change. “You humiliated yourself by becoming dependent on money you never earned.”
Jake’s ears went hot. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“You were buying things you did not need, for people who do not value you, in a manner that will eventually leave you with nothing.”
Jake stared at him, offended and already defensive. “Its not that serious.”
“Then stop behaving dramatically.”
Jake pressed his tongue into his cheek. “You’re mad because I spent money? Money that mom, dad and you yourself provided me with?”
“I am not mad because you spent money,” his grandfather said. “I am disappointed because you have never once had to understand what it means to live without it. And I won't deny that me and your parents are responsible for that.”
The room went quiet after that.
Jake hated quiet. Quiet gave people room to think, and thinking was dangerous when it came from his grandfather.
He forced a laugh. “So what, this is some lecture now?”
“No,” his grandfather said. “This is a decision.”
Jake felt it before his grandfather said it. The air seemed to sharpen.
“You’re leaving the city.”
Jake frowned. “Excuse me?”
“You will stay in the countryside with your aunt and uncle.”
Jake actually stared at him for a second, waiting for the punchline.
It never came.
“No,” Jake said immediately. “No, absolutely not. You can’t send me away like I’m a problem to be tucked in a drawer.”
“You're not a problem Jaeyun. You're my grandson and I only want what's best for you.”
Jake took a step forward, incredulous now, anger rising so fast it nearly made him dizzy. “Are you serious?”
“I have never been more serious.”
Jake lifted his chin. “I’m not going.”
His grandfather leaned back slightly in his chair. “Then you may stay here.”
Jake’s mouth opened-
“And pay for everything yourself.”
Jake stopped.
His grandfather’s voice remained perfectly even. “Every meal. Every ride. Every item of clothing. Every little thing you have been taking for granted.”
Jake went still. Because that part wasn’t theoretical.
“Your accounts are frozen,” his grandfather added. “Your card is blocked. Your access to your allowance is suspended. And if you believe I will be moved by a tantrum, you are mistaken.”
Jake’s expression shifted, just for a second.
His grandfather saw it and continued, mercilessly, “You will leave tomorrow morning.”
Jake’s throat tightened. “You’re actually doing this.”
“I am.”
“For how long?”
“You tell me,” his grandfather said. “When you're ready to stop acting like the world owes you something, you can come back.”
Jake laughed, but it sounded wrong even to him. “You’re insane.”
His grandfather didn’t respond to that.
Jake waited for him to soften, or argue, or say this was all some lesson that could still be negotiated.
Nothing. The silence stretched until Jake felt trapped inside it.
Finally he snapped, “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go. Happy?”
His grandfather didn’t look happy.
“That,” he said, “is the first responsible thing you’ve said today.”
Jake hated this house, this office, this stupid situation, the fact that his own life had been decided in a room where nothing was broken and no one was shouting.
And he hated, most of all, how real it suddenly felt.
The next morning, Jake was driven out of the city with two suitcases he had packed in a fury and a mood so dark it made the driver keep glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
The farther they went, the more the buildings thinned out.
First the towers disappeared. Then the traffic. Then the roads widened into open stretches of land, fields, trees, pale sky.
Jake stared out the window with his arms folded tightly across his chest, as if he could physically reject the scenery.
There was no signal for half the drive. No music either.
Just the hum of the engine and the creeping realization that he had never felt so far from everything familiar in his life.
By the time they reached his aunt and uncle’s place, the sun was already dipping low enough to throw gold over the fields.
The house sat quiet and sturdy at the edge of the land, with a stable nearby and wide open space stretching behind it. There were muddy boots by the door. A bucket near the fence. The smell of hay and dust and something warm drifting from inside the house.
Jake stepped out of the car and immediately regretted it.
The air was different here. Softer somehow, but also heavier. It carried the smell of earth and animals and grass baked by late afternoon sun. It got into his clothes, his hair, his lungs.
He made a face. This place was ridiculous.
The front door opened before he could decide whether to complain first or later.
His aunt came out wiping her hands on a towel, smiling in that careful, welcoming way adults used when they could tell a disaster had been delivered to their front step.
“Jaeyun,” she said warmly. “You made it.”
Jake managed something between a nod and a grimace. “Unfortunately.”
Her smile twitched, but she didn’t seem offended. “Come inside. You must be tired.”
He looked at the dusty yard again, the barn, the whole entire lack of civilization.
His aunt sighed the kind of sigh that meant she already knew this was going to be difficult and was pretending not to. “We’ll talk later. For now, settle in.”
Jake dragged his suitcases inside, glaring at the floorboards as if they had personally conspired against him.
The house was warm. Clean. Quiet in that unnerving countryside way that made every sound feel too loud. Somewhere farther out, a door banged shut. A dog barked once and then stopped.
Jake was still trying to decide whether to insult the wallpaper when he heard footsteps outside.
He turned his head just as someone came in through the side door.
Tall. Broad in the shoulders. And pale, so so pale- no seriously why was this man so pale?
The man- Jake was annoyed by the fact that the word handsome came to mind before he could stop it- had a plain white shirt half rolled at the sleeves and a pair of worn boots stained with dirt and mud. His hands, face and clothes was also covered in dried mud, and somehow that still made him look more put together than Jake himself.
He glanced up and their eyes met.
Jake immediately disliked him on principle.
The other Man's expression didn’t change much. Just a small pause.
His aunt looked up from the kitchen entrance. “Ah. Sunghoon-ah, perfect timing.”
So that was his name.
Sunghoon gave her a small nod. “You wanted me here?”
“I did.” She smiled. “This is Jake. He’ll be staying with us for a while.”
Jake waited for the usual look. Curiosity. Judgment. Pity.
Sunghoon gave him none of those.
He simply looked at Jake, then at the suitcases, then back at Jake again, as if assessing a problem he had already decided to solve.
His chin lifted. “What are you staring at?”
Sunghoon’s gaze held steady. Almost blank.
“You,” he said.
It was not rude. It was not flirtatious either.
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Well, stop.”
For the first time, something shifted in Sunghoon’s face. Not much. Just a faint tilt in the corner of his mouth, like he was trying very hard not to smile.
Dinner was worse than Jake expected.
Not because the food was bad, annoyingly it smelled good, but because everyone was acting like this was normal. Like he hadn’t just been exiled. Like he wasn’t sitting at a wooden table that felt older than his entire wardrobe.
Jake poked at his food suspiciously. “What is this?”
His aunt smiled. “Chicken stew.”
“It looks… wet.”
His uncle snorted into his glass. “That’s because it’s stew.”
Jake sighed loudly and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “I don’t eat stuff like this.”
“You’re eating it tonight,” his uncle said easily.
Jake blinked. “Excuse me?”
His aunt shot her husband a look, then turned back to Jake. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I won’t,” Jake said flatly. “I already hate it here.”
Across the table, Sunghoon ate quietly, posture relaxed, movements unhurried. He hadn’t spoken since sitting down, which somehow made it worse. Jake kept catching him looking up, not staring, not judging, just looking.
It made Jake itch.
“So,” Jake said suddenly, pushing his bowl slightly away. “When does this… punishment end?”
His aunt and uncle exchanged a glance.
“That depends,” his uncle said. “On you.”
Jake groaned. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Because It's true,” his aunt said gently. “Your grandfather made it clear. You’re here to learn responsibility.”
Jake laughed, sharp and disbelieving. “By throwing me into the middle of nowhere?”
Sunghoon’s spoon paused for half a second.
“This isn’t the middle of nowhere,” his uncle said. “It’s home.”
“For you.” Jake argued.
The silence that followed was thicker this time. Jake shifted in his seat, irritated. Again, the silence.
Then his uncle cleared his throat.
“You’ll start working tomorrow.”
Jake froze. “I’ll what?”
“Work,” his uncle repeated. “Around the farm.”
Jake stared at him like he’d just spoken another language. “No. That’s not happening. I’ve never worked in my entire life.”
“That’s the point.”
Jake’s laugh came out brittle. “You cannot be serious.”
His aunt leaned forward slightly. “Jaeyun-”
“I am not doing farm labor,” he snapped. “I didn’t come here to be treated like-like-”
“Like someone who has to earn things?” his uncle finished calmly.
Jake’s face flushed. “This is ridiculous.”
Sunghoon finally spoke.
“You’ll be working with me.”
Jake whipped his head around. “What?”
Sunghoon met his gaze without flinching. “Under me.”
Jake choked. “W-What?” He repeated.
His aunt coughed sharply.
Sunghoon blinked once. “…I meant you’ll be assigned to me. I’ll show you what to do.”
Jake pushed his chair back with a screech. “No. I am not taking orders from him.”
Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, studying Jake like he was something unfamiliar but interesting. “Why not?”
“Because you’re-” Jake gestured vaguely at him. “You.”
Sunghoon considered that. “That’s not very specific.”
Jake sputtered. “What, you think you can tell me what to do?”
Sunghoon’s voice stayed level. “I can.”
Jake slammed his hands on the table. “You don’t even like me.”
Sunghoon’s jaw tightened just enough for Jake to notice.
“I don’t dislike you, I don't even know you,” Sunghoon said quietly.
Jake scoffed. “Liar.”
Sunghoon didn’t respond to that. He just went back to eating like his heart wasn’t suddenly beating too fast, like he hadn’t already memorized the way Jake looked when he was angry, the way his voice cracked when he felt cornered.
His uncle sighed. “Enough.”
Jake stood. “I’m done.”
“Jaeyun,” his aunt warned.
He grabbed his phone off the table. “I didn’t come here to be bossed around by some farm boy.”
Sunghoon looked up at that, eyes sharp now. Not angry, hurt, maybe. Or something close to it.
Jake didn’t care.
He stormed out of the dining room and down the hallway, shoving open the door to the room he’d been given and slamming it shut behind him.
His chest rose and fell fast. This place was insane.
He dropped onto the bed, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, and only then noticed his phone vibrating in his hand.
Mom.
Jake hesitated before answering. Then, because some habits were impossible to break, he picked up.
“Hi,” he said flatly.
“Jake,” his mother said, distracted, like she was multitasking. “You’re there?”
“Obviously.”
A pause. Papers rustling. “Your grandfather told us.”
“Told you what?” Jake snapped. “That he blocked my card? That he shipped me off?”
“Yes, yes,” she said quickly. “We agree with him, by the way.”
Jake laughed, hollow. “Of course you do.”
“Jake,” his father’s voice cut in. “This is for your own good.”
“You didn’t even ask what happened.”
“We know what happened,” his mother said. “You were spending excessively again.”
“On my friends,” Jake shot back. “On myself. You know. Like always.”
“That’s not the point,” his father said. “You need structure.”
Jake stared at the wall, throat tight. “So you’re just… okay with this?”
There was another pause. Longer this time.
“We love you,” his mother said finally. “You know that.”
Jake swallowed. “You always say that.”
“And it's true,” his father added. “We've always given you everything you've ever wanted.”
Jake almost laughed again.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s not the same.”
His mother sighed. “We can’t talk long. I have a meeting.”
“I know,” Jake said.
“We’ll check in later,” his father said. “Be good.”
The call ended and Jake stared at the dark screen.
For a moment, the anger drained out of him, leaving something heavier behind. Something hollow.
He dropped the phone onto the bed beside him and covered his face with his hands.
From somewhere down the hall, he could hear low voices. His aunt and uncle. And faintly, Sunghoon’s.
Jake didn’t know why that made his chest ache more than the call had.
Tomorrow, he’d be forced to work.
Tomorrow, he’d be stuck under Sunghoon.
And for reasons he absolutely refused to examine, the thought made him feel both furious and unsettlingly aware.
Morning came far too early.
Jake knew this because someone knocked on his door like they were trying to wake the dead.
“Up,” a voice said from the other side. Calm. Annoying. Ugh this guy again, does he just like live here or something?
Jake groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. “Go away.”
The knock came again, firmer this time. “It’s past six.”
Then, “The earlier we start, the sooner we finish.”
That got his attention.
Jake shoved himself upright, hair a mess. He has to do the work no matter what, he might as well get done with it sooner rather than later. He grabbed the first outfit he’d aggressively planned the night before, tailored pants, a fitted top, and he did his usual make up routine.
If he was going to be humiliated like this, he was going to look good doing it.
He yanked the door open.
Sunghoon stood there in a plain work shirt, sleeves rolled, hair still slightly damp like he’d already washed up and gotten on with his life. The morning light from the window behind him hit his face just right, softening his features in a way Jake absolutely did not appreciate.
Sunghoon’s eyes dropped.
Just for a second. Then back up.
“What?” Jake snapped.
Sunghoon tilted his head, gaze lingering openly now. “You’re… dressed.”
Jake scoffed. “Was I not supposed to be?”
“like this? For farm work?”
Jake glared at him.
Sunghoon’s mouth twitched. “You’re going to ruin those pants.”
Jake stepped forward, invading Sunghoon’s space on purpose. “Not everyone has questionable taste like you, So you, out of everyone, are not telling me what to wear.”
“I wasn’t-” Sunghoon stepped aside to let him pass. “You should at least eat something.”
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
“You’re going to faint.”
“I’ve never fainted in my life.”
Sunghoon glanced at him. “There’s a first time for everything.”
Jake huffed and brushed past him, nearly shoulder checking him on purpose. Sunghoon didn’t move, but Jake felt the heat of him as he passed, close enough that his sleeve brushed Jake’s arm.
Outside, the air was cool and bright. Dew clung to the grass, and the land stretched out endlessly in a way that made Jake feel small and very, very out of place.
“So,” Jake said flatly. “What is it you do exactly?”
Sunghoon picked up a pair of gloves and held them out. “You’re helping me mend the fence.”
Jake stared at them like they were diseased. “No.”
“You are.”
Jake crossed his arms. “I don’t do manual labor.”
Sunghoon leaned against the fence post, unbothered. “You’re about to.”
Jake gestured to himself. “Look at me.”
“I am.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “I’m not built for this.”
Sunghoon’s gaze flicked over him again, slow and deliberate. “You’re built just fine.”
Jake choked. “You’re disgusting.”
Sunghoon straightened and stepped closer, close enough that Jake had to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact. Sunghoon didn’t crowd him, didn’t trap him, but the proximity was intentional.
“You’re going to get dirt on your hands,” Sunghoon said quietly. “If that’s a problem, tell me now.”
Jake lifted his chin stubbornly. “I’m not scared of dirt.”
Sunghoon reached out without warning and took Jake’s hand.
Jake yelped. “What are you-!”
Sunghoon turned his palm over, examining it like it was something fragile. “No calluses.”
“Obviously.”
Sunghoon’s thumb brushed lightly over Jake’s knuckles before he let go. “We’ll fix that.”
Jake glared. “You’re enjoying this aren't you?”
“Maybe.”
Jake snatched the gloves from him. “Weirdo.”
Sunghoon picked up the tools and started walking toward the fence. “Again, You don't even know me.”
Jake followed, stomping dramatically, “Shut up.”
Sunghoon smiled again, small, private, like he’d just won something Jake didn’t realize he’d offered.
It happened 10 minutes later.
Jake was already in a bad mood.
The gloves were stiff and ugly, the wire was uncooperative, and Sunghoon kept saying things like “Not like that" in a voice that was way too calm for how embarrassing this entire situation was.
Jake bent down again, scowling. “This is stupid.”
Sunghoon crouched slightly, close enough that Jake could feel his presence without seeing him. “Your grip’s wrong.”
“im gripping it perfectly fine.”
Sunghoon reached around, “remember, around", guiding Jake’s hands again. Slow. Deliberate. His fingers were warm through the gloves, steady in a way that made Jake acutely aware of how unsteady he felt.
“Like this,” Sunghoon murmured.
Jake swallowed. “Stop breathing on me.”
“I’m not.” Sunghoon’s breath brushed his ear anyway.
Jake jerked forward in protest.
And that’s when it happened. His boot slipped slightly in the loose dirt. Jake pitched forward with a very undignified sound, caught himself on the fence post-
-and felt something smear across his cheek.
He froze.
Slowly, carefully, he lifted his arm and tapped his cheek with it.
Brown. Wet. Cold.
Jake stared at his arm.
Then he screamed.
“Oh my god,” he gasped. “Oh my GOD.”
Sunghoon straightened immediately. “What?”
“There is something on my FACE.”
Sunghoon blinked. “Yes. That tends to happen when you almost fall into dirt.”
Jake spun on him, eyes wild. “Do you understand how expensive my makeup is? And this filth is all over my face!”
Sunghoon looked at him closely. Very closely.
There was a smear of dirt across Jake’s cheekbone, dust clinging faintly to his jaw, just under the small sharp line of eyeliner that had somehow survived. The contrast, clean lines, soft skin, ruined perfection, made something in Sunghoon’s chest tighten painfully.
“You look-” Sunghoon started.
“Do NOT finish that sentence.”
Sunghoon did anyway. “Good.”
Jake’s mouth dropped open. “What did you just say?”
Sunghoon stepped closer without thinking. He reached out, thumb hovering just shy of Jake’s cheek.
“Don’t,” Jake snapped, backing up half a step. “Do not touch me.”
Sunghoon stopped immediately, hand dropping to his side.
“Sorry,” he said quietly.
Jake scrubbed at his face with the back of his arm. “This is disgusting. I look insane. I can feel it drying!"
Sunghoon tilted his head. “You’re being so dramatic.”
Jake stared at him. “Excuse me?”
Sunghoon shrugged. “Hold still.”
Jake recoiled. “No.”
Sunghoon reached for a water bottle from nearby, unscrewed the cap, and held it up. “I won’t touch you.”
Jake eyed him suspiciously.
Sunghoon met his gaze.
Jake hesitated, then reluctantly leaned forward a little. “If you ruin my base, I will actually kill you.”
Sunghoon poured a small amount of water into the cap and held it out. “Tilt your head.”
Jake did, grumbling the entire time.
Sunghoon brought the cap close, careful not to touch more than necessary, rinsing the dirt away in slow, controlled movements.
He was very aware of how close Jake was.
Very aware of the way Jake’s lashes fluttered when water splashed too near his eye.
“There,” Sunghoon said softly. “Better.”
Jake opened his eyes cautiously. “You didn’t smear it?”
“No.”
“You didn’t-”
“No.”
Jake studied his reflection in the dark screen of his phone, turning his head slightly. The dirt was gone. His makeup, miraculously, was intact.
He let out a relieved breath. “…Okay.”
Jake straightened, immediately defensive again. “Don’t think this means anything.”
Sunghoon nodded. “Of course not.”
Jake pointed at him. “And stop looking at me like that.”
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like you think I’m-” Jake stopped himself, scowled. “Just stop.” He turned away sharply.
Sunghoon watched him go with a shake of his head.