Chapter Text
The first time Geum Seongje realized he was in love with you, he was angry about it.
Not the kind of angry where he wanted to punch something. That would have been easier. It was the kind that sat underneath his skin, restless and uncomfortable, making him pick at the loose thread on his sleeve while he stared at you from across the room.
Because this wasn't supposed to happen.
Whatever this thing between you was, Seongje had been perfectly content not naming it. You were someone he wanted around. Someone he wanted touching him, laughing with him, looking for him in a crowded room. That was all it had to be.
Except it wasn't. And Seongje knew it. That was the problem.
You were laughing. You were always laughing around other people, your head tilted back as your dark curls shifted over your shoulders, your whole face changing when something genuinely amused you. Seongje found himself watching the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed too hard, the way you'd instinctively cover your mouth when you realized you were being louder than you meant to be. He knew the little crease that appeared between your eyebrows when you were concentrating and the way you would absentmindedly smooth your hair down whenever you caught someone looking at you for too long.
He hated that he noticed things like that. He hated that he knew you liked your drinks too sweet. He hated that he knew you hummed under your breath when you were concentrating and that you always checked the temperature of your food before taking the first bite, even when you were starving. He hated that he could tell the difference between your real laugh and the one you gave people when you were being polite.
It was too much.
He knew that.
People weren't supposed to take up this much space in his head. Not unless they mattered, and Seongje wasn't interested in thinking about what it meant that you mattered this much. Most of all, he hated that he knew the exact moment your smile stopped being real. And right now, it wasn't real. Not entirely. He could tell.
The party had gotten louder as the night went on. Music thudded from somewhere near the living room, bass vibrating faintly through the floor beneath his shoes. Voices overlapped from every direction, punctuated by sudden bursts of laughter and the occasional shout from someone trying to be heard over the music. People had spilled out from the main room into the kitchen, the hallway, even the narrow space near the front door, everyone packed together in little clusters that kept shifting as people moved from one conversation to another. It should have been easy to lose track of one person in all of it.
But it wasn’t.
It had happened when some girl had wandered over to where Seongje was standing and decided she liked the way he looked. It wasn't difficult to understand why. Even standing still, he had a presence that drew attention. He was tall, his body slender but deceptively muscular beneath the loose black windbreaker he wore, dark brown hair falling untidily around his glasses. His reputation usually made people think twice before getting too close. The Mad Dog of Ganghak, people called him, and Seongje had done more than enough to earn it. The girl hadn't thought twice. She'd been talking to him ever since, leaning too close and laughing at things that weren't funny. Seongje hadn't exactly encouraged her, but he hadn't told her to fuck off either. You'd noticed. Of course you had.
Seongje had watched the moment you glanced over from across the room. Your eyes moved from the girl to him, lingering for half a second too long before you tore your gaze away. At first, you'd tried to pretend you hadn't been looking at all. You turned back toward the people around you, nodded along to whatever someone was saying, even managed a small laugh when the conversation gave you an opening.
But Seongje had seen the difference. Your attention kept slipping. You'd look over again when you thought he wasn't watching, catching on the way she leaned closer when she spoke. Each time, you'd look away almost immediately, like you'd caught yourself doing something you had no business doing. The first few times, you seemed more confused than anything else, your brows drawing together slightly before you forced your expression smooth again. Then came the irritation. He could see it in the way you started taking longer sips of your drink, and in the way your fingers tightened around the cup. You stopped looking directly at them, but somehow that was worse. Your eyes kept finding them in reflections, over someone's shoulder, through the gaps between people. You were trying not to watch, and Seongje knew you well enough to recognize how hard you were trying.
There was something almost painful in the way you kept pretending you didn't care.
You'd gone back to your conversation afterward, but something about you had changed. The change was subtle enough that someone who didn't know you might have missed it. Your smile still appeared when someone spoke to you. You still nodded and responded at the right moments. But the warmth had drained out of it. Your shoulders had gone a little stiffer, your attention scattered. You kept glancing down at your phone even though you weren't really reading anything, your thumb moving aimlessly across the screen. And every so often, your eyes would betray you again.
They'd flick toward Seongje.
Toward the girl.
Then away.
Each time, your smile tightened a little more. You weren't even sure what you wanted him to do. You didn't want Seongje to suddenly shove the girl away or make some dramatic declaration in front of everyone. That would be humiliating. You weren't his girlfriend. You had no right to expect him to behave like your boyfriend. But you wanted something. A glance, maybe. Some indication that whatever this was between you hadn't become less important to him just because someone else had decided she liked him. You hated yourself a little for wanting that much.
He watched you pick up your drink, take a sip, and immediately make a face because you'd forgotten you'd already finished it. Seongje pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek.
"What' crawled up your ass and died?"
You looked up. "Excuse me?" He'd crossed the room without you noticing. Now he was standing beside you, hands shoved into his pockets, looking down at you with that perpetually irritated expression.
"You've been sitting here looking pissed off for the last twenty minutes. What did you decide I did this time?"
You didn't know he was watching you this closely. If you had, you probably would have tried harder to hide it. You blinked at him, disregarding the latter half. "I'm not pissed off."
"Yeah, you are."
"Maybe I'm just tired."
His eyes bore into yours. You hated when he did that, when he looked at you like he was trying to see through whatever excuse you'd given him. Behind the lenses of his glasses, his stare could feel almost unnervingly direct. Seongje had always had that look, the kind that made people wonder what exactly was going on in his head. Usually, you knew better than to wonder. You reached for your phone again, mostly because you didn't want him to see that he was right. His gaze dropped to it before returning to your face.
"You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"Where you pretend you don't give a shit."
You gave him a small, unimpressed smile. "And you know me so well?"
Something tightened in his face. There it was. You'd meant it to sting. It did. You knew the second you'd said it that you'd gone for the soft spot. You hadn't meant to. At least, that was what you wanted to tell yourself. But Seongje had been irritating you for the better part of twenty minutes, and some petty, wounded part of you wanted him to feel even a fraction of what you had been feeling. Seongje glanced over his shoulder toward the girl he'd been talking to earlier. She was still across the room, now talking to someone else. When his attention returned to you, his mouth twisted.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
You only shrugged, turning your attention elsewhere as though the question wasn't worth answering.
"Bullshit."
You exhaled through your nose and looked away.
"Then why are you acting weird?"
You knew you were acting weird. You'd spent the entire night insisting to yourself that you didn't care, and now Seongje was standing in front of you looking at you like you were being a nuisance. You wanted to tell him what was wrong. You also wanted to tell him to fuck off for making you want to tell him in the first place. So you chose the second option.
"I'm not acting weird."
"You're acting fucking weird."
You finally met his eyes.
"And you're being a dick."
Had anyone else said that to him, Seongje would've made them regret it. He wasn't known for having much patience, and the people around him had learned quickly that there was a difference between talking shit about him and talking shit directly to his face. Usually, the latter ended with Seongje stepping into their space, not giving them any warning before things got ugly. He didn't let people challenge him without pushing back harder.
But you weren't anyone else.
You could call him annoying to his face, roll your eyes when he was being an asshole, shove his shoulder when he pissed you off, and walk away from him without so much as a second thought. Things that would've earned anyone else a very different reaction barely got more than an irritated look from him when they came from you. You'd been getting away with shit like that for so long that Seongje wasn't even sure when he'd started letting you.
And maybe that was part of the problem. He let you get away with too much. He cared too much about what you thought of him, too much about whether you were angry with him, too much about whether you'd look at him differently if you ever saw just how much you mattered. You had somehow become the one person who could get under his skin without even trying, and Seongje hated how little control he seemed to have over it. The more he realized how much power you'd gained over him without ever asking for it, the more tempting it became to put some distance between you. If he kept you at arm's length, maybe he could convince himself you weren't getting too close. Maybe he could make sure neither of you had to find out what happened if he stopped pretending he didn't care.
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "There you go."
You raised a brow, silently questioning him.
"That."
He pointed vaguely at your face.
"That thing where you get all fucking..."
"All fucking what, Seongje?"
He stopped. You stared at him. Seongje stared back.
For a second, that crooked, almost vicious gummy smile flashed across his face, the kind that appeared whenever he was entertained by someone else's discomfort or when he was two seconds away from starting something he probably shouldn't. Then it was gone just as quickly. He liked that. The little things you did when he got under your skin. The way your mouth tightened, the way you tried to hold your ground even when he was clearly enjoying himself. Sometimes Seongje pushed just to see what would happen, and with you, there was always something. A glare. An expletive. A sharp little comeback. He could have told you that you were jealous. He could have asked if that was what was bothering you. He could have admitted that he'd noticed the way you'd gone quiet the second that girl started talking to him. Instead, he shrugged.
"Forget it, I'm not dealing with your attitude right now. "
Your expression hardened. You turned your attention elsewhere. Something in Seongje's chest twisted. He hated that too. You always did that. You pulled back. Whenever he said something cruel, you pretended it didn't hurt. And whenever he hurt you enough, you forgave him before he had to ask. Seongje didn't know what to do with that. He'd grown up understanding violence better than affection. He understood threats. He understood fear. He understood what it meant to have someone look at him and immediately decide they didn't want trouble. He also understood the rush that came before a fight far too well.
There were few things Seongje enjoyed more than the moment someone realized they were actually in danger. The adrenaline. The anticipation. The sick little thrill that crawled through him when he knew someone was about to swing. He'd been told more than once that there was something wrong with him for enjoying it as much as he did. Maybe there was. You were different.
He dropped into the empty spot beside you, his knee bumping yours. You glanced down at where your knees touched, then back at him. You gave him a pointed look, the kind that should have made it obvious there was an entire room available to him and that he had somehow chosen the one spot beside you. Seongje only looked back at you, completely unbothered. Your eyes flicked toward the empty space around him, then back to his leg. Surely he could feel it. He had to know exactly what he was doing.
Seongje glanced down at the offending limb. Then, deliberately, he left it exactly where it was. You gave him another look, lips pressing into a thin line as you tried not to react. The corner of his mouth twitched. He almost smiled.
Almost.
He knew you were annoyed. That was half the fun. Seongje had never understood why people acted like teasing was supposed to be harmless. Sometimes the point was seeing how far you could push someone before they finally snapped. He liked watching you try not to react to him, especially when he knew you were already irritated. So when you shifted your leg slightly, trying to put some space between you, Seongje followed the movement without even pretending it was accidental. You looked down at his knee.
Then at him.
He stared back, completely unapologetic. Then your expression changed again when your gaze drifted toward the other side of the room. Seongje noticed immediately. Of course he did. His jaw tightened as he followed your line of sight. "You wanna say something?"
"No."
You crossed your arms, turning your attention back toward him with an expression that made it clear you had no intention of giving him the satisfaction.
"Then stop looking over there."
Your eyebrows rose. "I'm not looking anywhere."
"Funny. You've been watching her all night."
"Maybe I learned from you."
That got his attention. Seongje turned fully toward you, and you immediately regretted giving him the opening.
"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what I said. Gee, your glasses really give the impression you might be some kind of genius. Then again, you are a delinquent."
You looked away, jaw tightening as you picked at the edge of your sleeve. You shook your head, already pulling away from the conversation. "Forget it." Before he could say anything else, you stood, and Seongje tipped his chin up to meet you.
Her voice broke through his thoughts, telling him she was going home. Seongje watched her for a moment, taking in the exhaustion written across her face.
His eyes sharpened. "Why?"
You stared at him for a beat, irritation flashing across your face before you forced it back down. You didn't owe him an explanation, especially not when he was the reason you'd reached your limit in the first place. Still, you knew that look. He wasn't going to let it go.
You reiterated your desire to leave, your patience clearly wearing thin.
He scoffed. "That's a convenient excuse."
Your mouth parted slightly. You looked away and pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, visibly biting back whatever you wanted to say. You reached for your bag, movements sharper than they needed to be, and slung it over your shoulder. You were upset because of him. Because some girl had been standing too close, and you'd noticed. You could pretend you hadn't cared all you wanted, but he'd seen you watching. The knowledge settled somewhere ugly and warm in his chest. He didn't like it. Maybe he should have reassured you. Instead, a small, mean part of him wanted to see how far he could push it.
"You're seriously leaving?"
You paused and met his stare. Your fingers tightened around the strap of your purse.
"Do you want me to stay?"
The question caught him off guard. Seongje's mouth opened, but nothing came out. You watched him for a second, and whatever you saw in his silence seemed to confirm what you'd already suspected. Your expression hardened. You gave him a small nod, like his silence had answered for him. "Yeah. That's what I thought." You turned toward the door.
"Wait."
You stopped but didn't turn around. Seongje stood, and for a second, he hesitated like he might actually say something useful. Instead, his pride got there first.
"Don't fucking do that."
You turned around sharply. "Do what?"
"That whole dramatic bullshit."
Your face went blank, but the muscle in your jaw jumped. Seongje immediately knew he'd fucked up. But he was already irritated, already defensive, and instead of fixing it, he doubled down.
"I wasn't even doing anything."
You stared at him, disbelief slowly replacing the anger in your expression. "I didn't say you were."
"Then why the fuck are you acting like I did something?"
Your grip tightened around your bag, knuckles whitening around the strap. You took a slow breath through your nose, the kind that usually meant you were trying very hard not to say something you'd regret.
"Forget it."
"See? That's what I'm talking about."
You let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. You shook your head and looked toward the door, as if you were already done with him.
"You know what, Seongje? You're right. Forget it."
You turned toward the door. Seongje watched you go, something unpleasant pulling tight beneath his ribs. He should have let you. If you wanted to leave, then fucking leave. He’d already said enough. Except the thought of you actually walking out with that look on your face made him slightly sick
Your name left his mouth, sharp enough to stop you in your tracks. You stilled but didn’t turn around. Seongje crossed the distance between you before he could think better of it. His hand caught your wrist, turning you back toward him. He leaned down and kissed you. It was quick. Almost dismissive. More like an interruption than an apology, as if he could somehow shut you up long enough to keep you from walking away. For one stupid second, you let him. Then you pulled back.
“You cannot be serious, ” You scoffed. “You think you can just kiss me and suddenly I’m going to forget what you said?”
Seongje’s jaw flexed.
“I didn’t say that.” He countered
“Then what the hell was that?”
He was already regretting it and not regretting it at the same time. He’d wanted you to stop looking at him like that. Wanted you to stop walking away. Wanted, more than anything, to make the tension between you disappear without having to actually explain himself. But explaining himself was exactly what you wanted.
And he had never been good at that.
“Maybe I wanted to kiss you.”
The words came out gruffer than they needed to. Your expression faltered for half a second. Seongje hated that he noticed. You bit your lip, running your hand across your face.
“That’s not an answer. And if you wanted to kiss someone, you should’ve kissed her.”
His patience snapped.
“Yeah, maybe I should have.”
Your face fell. Not dramatically. That would have been easier. You just went still.
“You’re unbelievable.”
You pulled your wrist from his hand. Seongje let you. You walked out, keeping your pace steady until you were out of his sight. Only then did you let yourself breathe. Your throat felt tight, and you hated that. You hated even more that you could still feel the heat of the argument crawling beneath your skin, every stupid thing he'd said replaying itself in your head. You weren't going to cry over Geum Seongje.
But you were hurt, and pretending otherwise was getting exhausting. The worst part was that some pathetic piece of you was still waiting for the sound of his footsteps behind you. They never came. This time, when you turned toward the door, he didn’t stop you.
That was his first mistake.