" Can I get you anything?" tapping lightly on the door, Jihoo asked softly.
" No. I am fine. am fine" the shaking voice of Jandi sounded muffled.
" Just. Just give me some time" she added, giving Jihoo no other option than returning back to the living room and waiting for the girl that had jumped down from his hands and ran to the bathroom the second he walked into her room.
Her trembling hand reached for the faucet again, and the cold water rushed over her fingers, splashing her face in desperate, quick motions. The sensation of the chill against her skin was sharp, but it did nothing to cool the burning heat that seemed to be coming from inside. Her eyes, still unfocused, refused to look up as her hands worked relentlessly, splashing water with a force that sent droplets splattering across her neck and shoulders.
What have you done?
The faucet continued to pour out, but each splash seemed to only amplify the heat burning right underneath her skin. Her fingers wiped at her lips, as though scrubbing away the memory. But she knew deep down it wouldn't work. No amount of scrubbing could erase the stain left behind. The crimson lipstick—now smeared across her face—was a bitter reminder, the mark of something she couldn't take back.
Her right hand hovered near her bottom lip, trembling fingertips brushing over the now-wounded skin. For now, the kiss wasn't a vivid image in her mind, just a lingering feeling, heavy and impossible to ignore. The gentle pull of his lips, the way they had wrapped around her bottom lip, it all came rushing back to her in a flood. Her knees buckled at the thought, and she sank to the floor, sitting with her legs folded beneath her. Her right hand pressed against her lips, still slightly parted from the shock, as the scene replayed again, vivid and inescapable.
His long lashes had lifted to reveal eyes— those bewitching eyes—glowing with a craving she hadn't even known existed. She'd been around men who wanted her, in all the ways men wanted girls. She'd used that, wielded it like a weapon to get what she wanted, but this... this was different. It wasn't the look of desire she was used to, not by a long shot. Images of his face—so close she could trace the sharpness of every bone, the curve of his jaw—swirled in her mind, each one accompanied by the electric pulse of his hand, so gentle yet possessive, holding her neck. And the feeling of being pressed against the solid weight of his masculine body, with all its warmth and strength, leaving her breathless.
What had she done?
The shock, the overwhelming shock, seemed to crush her chest, her lungs struggling for air, but even her disturbed breathing was no longer her primary concern.
What has she done?
"I'm getting worried." Jihoo's soft voice sliced through the haze, snapping her back to reality. The reminder that he was still waiting for her outside the locked door only intensified the thudding of her heart, each beat out of sync with the last.
Frantic now, her hands moved in a blur, rushing to the running water. The coldness hit her skin, splashing all the way to her elbows as she tried to ground herself. A quick glance up revealed the mess on her face—her lipstick smeared. Her hand reached for a napkin, and she wiped furiously, erasing the color that had once felt like a symbol of confidence. But it wasn't just the lipstick. Her eyeshadow smudged as she squeezed her eyes shut, scrubbing at her face with an intensity that made her skin burn.
"Jandi?" two knocks at the door.
"I'm fine. Just washing my face," she answered quickly, splashing cold water over her skin, trying to force herself to calm down. A few traces of shimmer lingered on her face, but the reflection staring back at her felt strangely familiar, even in its mess. Her hands moved instinctively to her hair, pulling out bobby pins, brushing her hair down over her face. Attempt one: she tried to hide it all, but the result was too odd. Attempt two: she brushed it to the side, a little better, closer to what she looked like on a normal day.
Her eyes, now wandering, settled on her lips. Her cursed lips that looked fuller than usual were bound to trigger the memory of his lips still lingering there, impossible to ignore. Without thinking, her teeth sank into her bottom lip, peeling at the skin as if that would somehow erase the feeling. Ease the demand of her lip begging to return back to be adorned.
"Forget it. Just forget it ever happened," she muttered under her breath, her words barely audible, as though speaking them aloud might make them real.
"It never happened." The words whispered back to her, a desperate lie, a daydream—no, the worst kind of daydream.
A strange, almost ironic smile tugged at her lips as she clenched her teeth harder, pressing them together as if the tension in her jaw might somehow stop the chaos inside her. She was good at this—at convincing herself that reality didn't exist, that it was optional, that she could choose to live in her made up world when everything was calm and simple. No, it hadn't happened, she told herself again, the lie settling comfortably into her mind, wrapping itself around her thoughts like a warm blanket, until the edges of her reality blurred and softened. The alcohol she'd been sipping—the one thing that had seemed to dull the sharp edge of her panic—numbed her just enough to let the delusion take root.
The lie would be repeated over and over, an echo in her mind, until it was accepted as truth.
And with that, she opened the bathroom door, stepping out into the room with a faint smile painted on her lips. Her hands instinctively clasped behind her back, her posture straightened, and she held herself together with an almost unnatural composure—everything in place on the outside, even if her mind was anything but. She cast a brief glance at Jihoo, who was watching her intently, his eyes searching her face as if he could see right through her, but she didn't flinch. Not this time. She was good at this—at pretending. Pretending to be fine. Pretending the storm inside her was nothing more than a gentle breeze. She kept the internal chaos locked up, a fragile thread holding it at bay, threatening to snap.
"Something I ate isn't sitting well," she said, her voice low, as if the words were a balm she could use to soothe the tremor in her chest. Her eyes flicked back to Jihoo, a forced smile on her lips, as her right hand moved behind her hair, sweeping it forward. It was a movement that had become second nature—a shield to hide behind, a mask that she could wear even when she was breaking.
"Do you want me to get the nurse?" Jihoo's voice was laced with concern, his gaze never leaving her face, still searching, still questioning.
"No. No, I'm fine," she replied too quickly, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. The speed of her protest was enough to make anyone suspicious.
"I'll just have some water," she murmured softly, offering him a smile she hoped would reassure him, even though it felt hollow to her. She turned toward the couch, moving with deliberate slowness, willing her body to cooperate. Her hands instinctively settled on her stomach, pressing against the fabric of her clothes in a way that felt almost protective, as if she could physically hold herself together, keeping the truth inside.
"Here," Jihoo said, his hand warm and steady on her back, guiding her. His touch was gentle, but she could feel the weight of his concern, the way his fingers lingered just a moment too long.
She saw the shift in his eyes as he took in her disheveled appearance, the absence of the makeup that had once made her feel like she could be anyone, anyone who could make heads turn. The girl next to him now looked more fragile, more human than she cared to admit.. Thankfully, her hair—loose and wild—did its job of hiding most of her face, offering her a small sliver of privacy at this moment.
"I'll get you some water, so rest," Jihoo said, his voice soft with care, before he turned toward the fridge in the corner.
Her eyes followed him, her breath catching in her throat as she watched him walk away. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat reminding her of what she has gotten herself into. She bit down on her right thumb, an unconscious motion, the skin between her teeth soft and yielding as she bit at it—trying to distract herself, to force her mind into the present.
What was she going to do? The tremble of fear inside her was worse than anything else, worse than the guilt, worse than the weight of the lie she was living. It gnawed at her insides, turning her stomach, making it hard to breathe, to think.
How could you do this to him?
You don't deserve him. You don't deserve any of this.
The words echoed in her mind, sharp and accusatory, like a wound that will never fully heal. They twisted deep within her, digging into the soft places in her heart where shame and regret festered. He was here, doing everything he could to make her happy—everything she could have ever wanted—and yet, she had kiss... Even in the safety of her own thoughts, she couldn't bring herself to say it aloud. The word kiss felt like a betrayal in her mouth, too heavy to utter, too sharp to handle. She bit down harder on her thumb, her skin breaking under the pressure as if the physical pain could somehow override the emotional one.
You should tell him, be honest with him, right?
The answer came almost before the question fully formed, a reflex she didn't even need to think about: No.
What could she possibly say if she wanted to? How could she face him with the truth?
Hey, I just kissed your best friend, the one I've been telling you I hate.
The thought itself made her stomach turn violently. She felt the bile rise in her throat, and she quickly swallowed it down. The words felt like poison. She could never say that to Jihoo. She couldn't destroy everything they had over one reckless, thoughtless mistake.
A Mistake?
That was what it was right? A mistake she will never ever think about let alone repeat. So if it was a mistake, shouldn't she be okay with sharing the truth?
The question still lingered, like a shadow following her every step.
Should she tell him? Would telling him make everything better?
She glanced over at him, standing by the fridge, his back turned. She wasn't ready for the truth. Not yet. Not when it felt like it would shatter everything around her.
A pill and a tonic drink later, Jandi continued her act, allowing Jihoo to help her to the couch on the balcony and settle her into a comfortable blanket. The warmth of the soft fabric should have wrapped her in a cocoon of solace, but instead, it felt like a bed of rocks beneath her. Every shift she made, every time her gaze flicked over to Jihoo, sitting next to her with that ever-present kindness in his eyes, the discomfort had nothing to do with the mattress. It was him.
Somehow, everything about him felt too close and too far all at once. His proximity, his concern—it all seemed to amplify the distance between them, a distance that was far deeper than mere inches. It wasn't just physical. No, the real distance was in everything she couldn't bring herself to say, everything she was too terrified to admit. The distance between them wasn't something that was happening to her; it was a choice she was making—a choice to shield herself, to guard her heart from whatever truth lay beyond her fear. But how could she tell him? How could she expose the raw, tangled mess of emotions she felt without shattering something she even deserved to have.
"Thank you so much for joining me at dinner," Jihoo's soft voice broke the heavy silence, his tone gentle as he adjusted the suit jacket over her shoulders, a thoughtful gesture that tugged at something inside her.
"And for dressing up... making it special," he added, his hand, warm and steady, moving from her shoulders to her messy hair. His fingers gently threaded through the strands, brushing them behind her ear, his touch so tender it felt like a spark against her skin. The feeling, so familiar yet alien in this moment, made her heart thud painfully in her chest. The slightest contact of his fingertip at her ear sent a jolt of discomfort through her, and without thinking, she recoiled, shifting away from him.
Before Jihoo could say anything, she reached for the open champagne bottle sitting on the low table in front of them. She twisted the cap off in one swift motion and brought the bottle to her lips, taking a long, almost desperate gulp. The sweetness of the champagne burned its way down her throat, an uncomfortable reminder of her own nervousness, but it worked. The big gulps helped quiet the rising tide of anxiety threatening to spill over.
Jihoo watched her, confusion clouding his features as he sat beside her, still unsure of what was happening.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quiet but full of concern as he studied the wide smile that had plastered itself across her face the second she pulled the bottle away from her lips.
"Of course," she replied quickly, her smile too wide, too bright to be genuine.
"Just continuing with the celebration," she added with a nervous laugh, her words so hollow they seemed to echo in the space between them. Jihoo's brow furrowed, and despite the forced cheer in her voice, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. His gaze never left her, though he took the bottle from her hands and brought it to his lips.
"I see," he said after taking a sip, his eyes lingering on her face with an intensity that made her feel like she was being weighed and measured.
"What?" she asked, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her blanket as she adjusted herself to face him fully. Her voice held an edge now, sharper than it had been before, and it was clear that her nerves were fraying.
"Nothing," he replied, though there was something in his tone—something guarded—that made Jandi's stomach twist. He took another sip, this time slower, as if he were savoring both the drink and the silence between them. His eyes were steady on hers, as though waiting for her to give something away.
"It's just…" He hesitated, his words careful, measured. "You've been acting differently since we got on this cruise."
Her breath hitched in her chest, the words landing like a stone in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't let him see her reaction, couldn't let him know how deeply his observation had struck.
"What? How?" she replied too quickly, her response sharp as she snatched the bottle from his hands, bringing it to her lips again with a little more force than necessary. The pointed look she gave him, her eyes dark with something unspoken, caught him off guard. He flinched ever so slightly, but Jandi didn't notice.
"Your mood has been…" Jihoo's voice trailed off as he searched for the right words. He stopped himself, his gaze flicking to her with uncertainty. The weight of his words hung in the air like a suspended breath, but he seemed to reconsider. He seemed to shrink, choosing his words with more caution now.
"Maybe it's being on the water," he continued, his tone lighter, as though he were offering an excuse to ease the tension. "Some people get seasick." His attempt at a softer explanation only made the guilt weigh heavier on her shoulders. She could feel it pressing down, suffocating her, but she didn't know how to lift it. She took another long gulp of champagne, trying to drown out the lump that had formed in her throat.
"Some type of motion sickness," he added, his voice more uncertain now, eyes rising with the bottle she was lifting to her lips. His attempts to explain away her behavior were only fueling the storm brewing inside her. She could feel the cold knot in her chest tighten, but there was nothing she could do to release it—not without facing him, not without confronting the truth she couldn't share.
" I was just worried maybe it was the boys being here," Jihoo murmured, his voice quieter now, almost too soft to hear. "Especially JunPyo."
The name "JunPyo" barely left his lips before Jandi closed the gap between them. Without warning, she pressed her champagne-covered lips against his, cutting off whatever he was about to say. Her kiss was forceful, desperate, a sudden rush of emotion flooding her a split second, Jihoo froze, caught off guard by her abruptness. But then, instinct kicked in. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, as his lips responded, eager to meet hers in a kiss that was deeper than either of them had expected. The energy between them shifted, growing more intense with each passing second. Jandi's lips moved frantically against his, as if she was trying to communicate everything she couldn't say aloud.
As their kiss finally broke, Jihoo opened his eyes, his chest rising and falling with each breath, trying to process what had just happened. He found Jandi's wide, doe-like eyes staring at him—eyes that were filled with something new, something dangerous, something that hinted at a truth she hadn't yet voiced.
Her breathing was heavy, uneven, and her gaze lingered on him, waiting for him to make sense of it all.
Jihoo's heart raced. He didn't know what had changed in that kiss. And whatever was left in the silence between them would soon have to be spoken aloud and when that day comes, the question will be could he handle it.
"Want to go to my room?" Jihoo's voice was low, almost a whisper, as his soft eyes pleaded with her, silently asking for more than just her physical presence. But that wasn't necessary. She would do anything to keep the conversation they were having from continuing. She needed the night to end, to stop the spiral of words that threatened to reveal too much, to halt the storm of thoughts and feelings she couldn't navigate.
"Sure." The word escaped her lips, barely audible but certain. Her heart raced in confusion, and her mind ached with anxiety as it spun a thousand unspoken questions, but her body—her body, propelled by the sweet haze of alcohol—moved without her full consent. She forced a smile, the kind that would make him feel at ease, and Jihoo, his face lighting up with a genuine, welcoming grin, took her hand in his. His grip was gentle, yet firm, as he led the way.
But in the back of her mind, a single, dangerous thought echoed louder with every step they took.
What the fuck are you doing?
The question kept pounding at her, relentless, as if trying to claw its way out of her chest. What had she gotten herself into? She wasn't even sure when or how this had all started—everything felt like it was happening in a blur, like a dream she couldn't quite wake up from.
What have you done?
The words didn't stop as her body followed him out of the room, each step seeming to lead her farther from herself. And then, there was nothing but darkness.
When she finally woke up, the thick haze of a dream lingering behind her closed eyelids, her eyes fluttered open to the reality that hit her like a tidal wave. Her heart doubled in pace, pounding in her chest as she took slow, shaky breaths. The cool air from the open window brushed against her skin, but it did little to soothe the sudden panic gripping her. The overwhelming ache from her hangover pulsed in her skull, a cruel reminder of the night that had unfolded—of the choices she had made without truly thinking.
What have you done?
The question repeated in her mind, a hammer to the already fragile walls of her self-control. Her body was sluggish, disoriented, and it took every ounce of willpower she had left to keep her breathing steady, to focus on the dark night sky outside. She felt every inch of her exhaustion, but it was nothing compared to the deep, gnawing guilt that had settled in her stomach that refused to let her forget the mess she had made.
Look at the mess you created.
The voice was sharp, cruel, and it sliced through her haze. She couldn't escape it. Her body ached, but it wasn't just from the alcohol or the exhaustion—it was the weight of the realization that she had done something irreversible. And there, beside her, was the very person she had wanted to avoid confronting. Jihoo.
Slowly, her tired eyes turned to the right. The sight of him, peacefully asleep beside her, stirred something strange in her chest—something both beautiful and terrifying. He looked so peaceful, so unaware of the whirlwind that had just swept through both of them.
How could someone look so graceful while sleeping? The thought slipped into her mind uninvited. She scanned his face, lingering on the soft curve of his features. She has to protect him. She knew that much. Protect him from the truth—her truth. And as she watched him sleep, a fresh wave of guilt washed over her. She had to keep this part of herself hidden from him. She had to keep him in the dark for as long as possible, for his own sake.
It wasn't just one secret. It wasn't just this one moment, one choice. It was a mountain of things she had buried deep within her, things he would eventually find out. But when that day came, she prayed that she would have moved on from this—whatever this was—by then. She hoped that, by the time the truth came to light, she would be strong enough to accept that he might hate her for it. And maybe it wouldn't matter then, because she would be gone.
But until that day, she would shield him from it all.
He needs to be protected from the truth. She knew it in her bones. And now, she had a decision to make.
With that thought settling in her mind, Jandi slowly pulled herself out of bed, careful not to disturb Jihoo. Her messy bed hair and the haze from sleep were forgotten, and with mechanical movements, she grabbed the dress shirt he had discarded on the couch. She headed for the door, her feet light against the floor. Her shoes lay scattered on the floor, but it didn't matter now. Her bare feet padded softly as she made her way to the bathroom. Slipping on the slippers by the door, she took a steadying breath before she stepped out of the room, away from the person she had so carefully built this facade with.
Her steps were deliberate, her mind spinning with the implications of everything that had just happened. The weight of what she was about to do pressed against her chest, but there was no turning back now. Whatever she had done last night, whatever this was—it would have to be buried, tucked away, kept hidden for a while longer. As she stepped out, the door closing softly behind her, she couldn't help but wonder how long she could keep up the act. How long before the truth would finally catch up to her ?
Jihoo's dress shirt she hadn't even buttoned was doing all it could to protect her from the chill of the evening as she quickened her steps. Her purposeful steps echoed down the flight of stairs, followed by a long walk through the hallway, leading her to the wide, empty room. As her gaze drifted to the corner, it became clear why she had instinctively come here to find him—though she was too blinded by everything between them to care about the reasons behind it.
Dressed in all black, slouched in the same way he always did, his long hair tousled by the soft breeze from the open window... How could anyone mistake him for anyone else?
With every step toward him, the rhythm and strength of her walk faded, her steps growing softer as she approached. When she got close enough, she noticed the white smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers. Her hand, moving behind her back, found the other, as her eyes locked onto the cigarette pressed to his smoke swirled around him like a haze that seemed to match the emptiness of the room. As Jandi stood there, staring at him from a distance, she could feel the cold bite of the evening air against her skin, but it was nothing compared to the coldness she felt from the moment her eyes landed on him. His gaze, still distant, seemed to be locked somewhere far beyond her, right at where the endless ocean meets the sun that was bound to rise in minutes.
She shifted her weight, her fingers now trembling as they twisted together behind her back. Her mind screamed for her to stop caring, to stop analyzing every detail of his posture, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the slight hint of exhaustion on his shoulders. She wanted to be angry. She should be angry.
"Are you going to tell him?" She broke the silence as her voice cracked slightly, betraying her inner conflict. She hated herself for it. Hated how weak she answer she was waiting for never came. Instead, he took another long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, like it was the only thing that kept him tied to this reality. His gaze remained fixed on the window ahead of him, not even glancing at her as she stood there, waiting for his response. His indifference that has always bothered her, stung more than she expected. She had come here prepared for confrontation, for a storm of words and emotions. But his silence... It was its own kind of punishment.
"Are you going to?" she repeated, trying to steady her voice, though the tremor was still there, the nerves bubbling just under the surface.
Junpyo's slow exhale as he leaned back, letting the last of the cigarette smoke curl out of his mouth, felt like the end of something. He didn't answer immediately, as if considering something, or perhaps trying to hold back the words that might undo whatever fragile barrier he had. He took a few puffs of his cigarette before his gaze finally shifted to her reflection in the wall-to-wall window before him. The fact that the first thing he noticed was the shirt she'd borrowed from Jihoo irritated him. Her face, free of the glamorous makeup she'd worn the night before, along with her hair, now puffy and matching the marking of her head on the pillow as if she'd just woken from a restful sleep, only fueled his frustration. There was no denying it—Jihoo was to blame for her appearance.
"Why would I?" he finally answered, his voice low, almost dismissive. But there was something about it, an almost broken quality that made her pause.
"Because you've been threatening to tell him everything, if I..."
Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to compose herself from what his gaze had suddenly awakened when he turned around and brought his eyes her way. His eyes—dark and heavy with something she couldn't quite place—pulled at her making it impossible to look away. She had expected something but not this.
He looked like he hadn't slept in days, his exhaustion palpable. His features, usually sharp and confident, were now softened by the weight of the unspoken memory between them. The messiness of his appearance—hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, the overall weariness in his posture—only made him look more human. More real. And she couldn't look away. No matter how hard she tried, her mind refused to look away from the raw version of him he was letting her see. She had always thought of him as someone distant, cold, untouchable. But now, standing there in the dim light, he seemed... smaller and fragile.
In the silence they were sharing, the flutter of his eyelashes as he blinked would be to blame for the memory they brought back — a moment they shared when nothing mattered. A moment when the warmth of his lips had stirred a forgotten awareness of what it felt like to truly be alive. The touch of his hand on her neck, the warmth of his body pressed so close to hers, the steady rhythm of his breathing—she had held on to every second of it. And now, staring into his eyes, it all came rushing back, overwhelming her, too much, too fast.
And in that moment, something was shared between their eyes—something raw and delicate.
Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together behind her back, trying to keep her composure. She was supposed to be in control of this moment, to stand her ground. But the weight of his gaze was undoing everything she had built. Focus. The reminder echoed in her head.
"Are you going to tell him?" Her voice rose, not as a reaction to him, but as a way to refocus herself—keeping her attention on the question at hand, not on the boy who had turned his gaze back to the horizon, at the night sky that had once kept him company now slowly fading away.
Her words trailing off as she saw the way his eyes briefly shifted to her, catching her reflection in the window. His eyes softened, still, he didn't speak. Instead, he exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around his face like a veil, hiding his true expression.
"Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?" she shot back, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.
Standing up from the large couch he was on, Junpyo finally faced her. His eyes met hers for a brief, intense second. It wasn't the way he usually looked at her. This was different. This was too much.
"Did you spend the night with him?" Junpyo's raspy voice cut through the quiet.
The words landed between them like a stone. Heavy. Final.
Her stomach dropped at the question. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn't come. She wanted to shout out that she hadn't—hadn't—done anything that would justify this look, this accusation. But her silence spoke louder than anything she could have said so she just stared back.
The way his face tightened, the slight anger in his movements, it was clear he didn't need her to answer to make his own conclusions. He took another drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing briefly in the dim light. For all his calm, his indifference, she could hear the cracks in his voice even as he sighed. She could see the way his shoulders hunched, as if the weight of something unspoken was pressing down on him. And in that moment, she realized—perhaps for the first time—that Junpyo wasn't just the guy who sat there, cold and distant. There was more to him than that.. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn't the only one struggling to keep it all together.
His eyes, those piercing eyes, softened with something that could almost be described as sadness. Her fingers, still fidgeting behind her back, clenched tighter as a reaction.
" Say something" she demanded, a desperate ache in her chest.
But when his voice came—soft, almost too gentle—it threw her off balance.
"What do you want me to say?" The way he said it, almost like he was lost in the same fog she was, only made the silence between them feel heavier, more suffocating.
The seconds went on as the moment stretched on, and for the first time, Jandi wasn't sure whether she wanted to break the silence. He stood there, his posture betraying a vulnerability she hadn't anticipated. His long, messy hair framed his face in a way that was almost too familiar—too inviting, too comforting—and yet, it was now a source of unease. She could feel her eyes linger on him, tracing the outline of his jaw, the curve of his neck, the subtle movements of his chest as he breathed.
She had never seen him like this.
"I don't know!" Her voice came out sharper than she intended, breaking the stillness.
"You always have something to say. Why are you quiet all of a sudden?" she demanded.
"Last night…"
"Last night was a mistake. It's a mistake I never want to remember." Her loud voice sliced through his soft whisper.
"I was drunk. You were beyond drunk and high on God knows what."
" I'm surprised you even remember anything, given how out of it you were. It was disgusting, and I'm so disgusted with myself for letting it happen. You should be disgusted, too. Just let it go as a drunk mistake." Her rant paused, as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. But there was nothing she could say that could undo what he had triggered by simply mentioning last night.
"I couldn't sleep." His soft words cut through her, reaching the emotions she deemed unnecessary and always kept tightly locked away.
"Did you stay up disgusted by it?" A fake smile twisted at the corner of her lips. Her eyes, always hard to read, seemed to plead with him silently—begging him to play along.
"Did all the alcohol leave your system, leaving you shell-shocked because it happened… with me?" She barely whispered the last part, trying to mask the sting with another smile. Her thumb dug mercilessly into her middle finger, drawing blood, as if punishing herself.
"It really should disgust you. It's beyond a disgusting mistake."
"I like you."
Three words. That's all it took to freeze even the sun's rays, poised to break through the dark sky and usher in a new day.
Three simple words, but they were enough to still the erratic beat of her heart. Her body froze, only her eyes blinking before they locked onto him, trying to process what he had just said. She couldn't even grasp reality, only the image of his shaking hand as it brushed through his hair. His nervous gaze, the way his neck lowered—every subtle detail was what she recorded.
"Isn't it obvious?" His voice shook, only amplifying the anxiety that was now taking over his body, pushing him to run—to flee from feelings he had long feared to face, let alone admit. Vulnerability had never been his thing so what could have possessed him to expose himself so openly to someone who had made it clear she didn't care about him? It was terrifying. And fear was all he tightness in his chest grew with each passing second, and his right hand brushed through his hair again, betraying his anxiety.
"Ever since you stared me down with that coffee on your uniform." A small smirk tugged at his lips, though it couldn't mask the vulnerability in his voice as he took them both down memory lane. He remembered the moment her piercing eyes became something he would obsess over—how she had dared to stare at him while her gaze screamed all the ways she wanted to beat him up for spilling coffee all over her. The way she walked past them with that confidence of hers, even dismissing Jihoo's attempt to offer her a napkin. He recalled it all.
"I just…" His words stumbled, and to anyone else, it would have been endearing. But to Jandi, it was nothing but a reminder of the chaos she had gotten herself into.
"I've never felt like this before, and I don't…
"I don't know what to do." His voice cracked, the stutter growing more pronounced under her unwavering gaze. His trembling right hand brushed through his hair once more before he tucked it behind his back, clasping both hands together. He stood, mimicking her stance—hesitant, vulnerable.
"I just…" He took a step forward, but before he could move any closer, she instinctively stepped back, creating a fragile space between them.
" Well I hate you." She shouted the words out like they were arrows aimed right at him.
" You are nothing but a bully and have been nothing but a jerk to me." Her hands unclasped and fell to her sides as her body shifted into position, fists clenched tightly, ready to strike. Flight or fight—this time, she chose to fight. To face whatever was happening, with everything she had.
" I don't like a single thing about you" The tone of her voice grew sharper as her eyes scanned him from head to toe.
" They hate the clothes you wear. How you show up at school dressed in anything but the uniform like it is so beneath you to look like everybody else. Smoking and doing Godknows what across campus like you're some untouchable prince. I hate this stupid hair of yours and why it's always all over your stupid face. I even hate your voice and the way you talk, especially when you talk as though you care. I hate everything."
With every word, the energy inside her grew, fueling the voice that had returned, now in control, urging her to go harder. A single glance at the broken boy was enough for her to realize she had all the power, that she could destroy him if she wanted to. "Finish him," the voice commanded.
" I wouldn't even look your way let alone talk to you if I had a choice. That's how much I hate everything about you. I don't even understand how anybody likes you considering how fucked up you are. Probably none of them even like you and are just pretending because you're some rich spoiled prick who could give them whatever they want.
"Isn't that why everybody worships you?" Her rant ended with a sharp, shaky breath, her chest rising and falling as if the air itself could steady her. Jandi's shoulders trembled slightly, struggling to catch her breath.
Her eyes, still fixed on him, were forced to blink as the sunlight, breaking through the lingering shadows of the night, gently touched the right side of his face. It was almost as if the glow around him was otherworldly, pulling all her attention to the result of what she had done. His hauntingly beautiful features reflected the way she hadn't just won—but had completely destroyed her so-called opponent. His dark eyes, pulling her in, were to blame for her hands slowly opening from the tight fists that had been cutting off the blood flow to her fingers.
Those murky, dark eyes. The subtle glint of unshed tears in them froze even time. Tears so close, yet so carefully held back, were responsible for the odd sensation at the left side of her chest.
" I see." His voice was low, barely a whisper, but it shattered even the hardest of barriers, let alone a fragile heart. Even the ocean seemed to still with his whisper, the sound brushing against every inch of her skin, sending a shiver through her as the morning wind swept in.
And there she stayed, suspended in that moment—trapped in the stillness. Then, without another glance, the boy she had crushed walked out of the room, leaving her to stand there, rooted to the memory of what her words have done.
Unlike her, the boy she had destroyed would be in a rush. In a rush to give in to what his anxiety had been demanding of him since the moment he saw her carried away in Jihoo's arms. His need to escape seemed to echo in every step he took toward the helicopter. The preparations for the helicopter to take off would only take 15 minutes, but even that seemed like too long for him to wait. The moment Junpyo fastened his seatbelt, the helicopter would lift off, leaving the memories of the night behind him. But no matter how far he traveled, no matter how high he went, he knew the venomous words of hers would follow him like a shadow.
To the pilot, this boy looked nothing like the young man who had flown in just days ago. The usual confidence that had once defined him, the magnetic energy he exuded when surrounded by his friends, the pretty girl always by his side, the loud, carefree laughter—none of that was here now. The boy who walked now was hidden beneath dark glasses, a hat pulled low, and a hoodie that shielded him from the outside world. His head hung low as if the weight of everything was pressing down on his shoulders.
Not just the pilot but the staff behind him, carrying his luggage, had seen Junpyo in many moods, but this… this was something different. They couldn't help but wonder what had happened to change him so drastically. The once charismatic, carefree young master ..what could possibly have occurred for him to look this way? They exchanged glances, silently agreeing that some questions were better left unasked. The lives of these kids, with their volatile emotions and unpredictable behaviors, were best left alone. It was safer that way.
The 45-minute flight felt like an eternity. Every minute was another reminder of his frantic need to find something to help him shut down. Hopefully some blue pills he keeps close to his bed so he could sleep for days, if not for eternity. When the helicopter finally touched down at the landing dock, Junpyo wasted no time. The pilot barely had time to offer his formal greeting before Junpyo was out of the seat, jumping out of the helicopter and walking with a purpose, though the confusion and desperation in his steps were impossible to ignore. The staff on stand-by rushed to greet him and get the bags, but Junpyo barely noticed them. His eyes were on the car ahead, the one that would take him to wherever it was he could feel safe..
Each desparte step, the strong wind whipped around him wouldn't be the cause of his missteps. It was his mind, his racing thoughts. His frantic movements caught the driver's attention the moment he stepped out of the car to welcome the young boss. One look at Jun Pyo, his face hidden behind the glasses, a hat and hoodie, and the driver knew something was terribly wrong. The boy was trembling, his hands fidgeting uncontrollably. There was no masking it.
Even as they drove away, the driver kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, stealing glances at Junpyo as he fumbled with his pockets, his breath shallow, erratic. He tried to calm himself, but the panic only seemed to deepen with each failed attempt to find what he was looking for.
"Are you okay, sir?" the driver asked gently, though his voice trembled with concern.
But Junpyo didn't answer. His body was a ball of tension, his hands frantically reaching into his pockets, desperate, cursing under his breath.
"Fuck," he muttered aloud, his voice raw with frustration. He threw his phone into the back seat, as though it were to blame for everything.
"Fuck," he repeated, his voice cracking, this time pulling at the fabric of his hoodie as though trying to rip away his own skin. He was suffocating in this body he couldn't escape from.
"Sir, are you okay?" the driver asked again, his worry growing as he shifted lanes to slow down the car, unsure of what to do next. His concern for the boy deepened as he watched Junpyo's shaking hands clutch his chest in panic.
"I need… I can't... I can't—" Junpyo's voice broke, the words hanging in the air like an unspoken plea for help. His left hand reached desperately for the window, trying to open it, as though the fresh air could somehow help him breathe again.
The car came to a sudden halt at the curb, but it felt as though Junpyo had already jumped out before the wheels stopped turning. He ran a few steps toward the empty parking lot, his chest heaving with each frantic breath. His body demanded a release, but it wouldn't come. He attempted to throw up, but there was nothing in his stomach. There was only the emptiness that had swallowed him whole.
The driver stood behind him, helpless, watching as the young master he once knew, strong and charismatic, reduced to a shell of a person. He was a mess. A broken, lost boy sitting on the cold pavement, staring blankly into the distance. The driver knew he should say something, anything to comfort him, but the words felt useless. There was nothing he could say that could fix what had been broken.
Finally, the driver stepped forward, placing a bottle of water by Junpyo's side. He wanted to say something, to offer some words of comfort, but the heaviness in the air told him that nothing would be enough.
Minutes later, he sat next to him, just a few inches away, his heart heavy with the weight of the boy's silence.
"It's okay," the driver finally murmured, his voice soft but full of empathy. His hand hesitated, then landed gently on Junpyo's shoulder, offering the kind of touch he hoped might ease some of the pain. It wasn't much, but it was all he could offer.
"I hate myself so much," Junpyo whispered, and the words were like a knife to the heart. His voice cracked with the weight of his self-loathing. The hand on his shoulder dropped slowly as the driver looked at him, helpless. The single tear that slid down Junpyo's cheek was slow, almost imperceptible. This was not the boy who had been born with the world at his feet. This was a broken soul, lost and searching for something—anything—that could make him feel whole again.
The teardrop left on the pavement would be long gone as the cause for it finally reached land hours later. Jandi's steps felt heavier as she finished the last step on the land felt unfamiliar beneath her feet, it didn't even feel grounding. The luggage she was pulling behind her, it felt like she was dragging more than just bags behind her. The weight of guilt, of things unsaid, of things left behind, hung around her like a heavy fog.
"I still can't believe Junpyo left without us," Woobin's voice broke her out of her thoughts as the mention of his name sent a jolt of unease through her.
The subtle tension in her posture didn't go unnoticed as Yijeong noticed the way she stiffened at the mention of the name.. He was quick to mask his own suspicions, offering her a smile she could barely return. Instead, her fingers tightened around the straps of her bag, and Yijeong couldn't ignore the feeling that something was amiss. He could sense her unease.
"I'll call him and check," Woobin offered, but the answer was immediate.
"He's not picking up. His phone says it's turned off." Jihoo's voice, usually calm and measured, carried a note of frustration that was hard to miss. The phone he was typing on, Jihoo has been trying to reach his friend since he heard of the sudden departure.
The silence that followed felt louder than any words as Yijeong glanced at Jandi, his eyes sharp with suspicion, but he masked it with a casual smile.
"Did anything happen to him last night?" Yijeong asked, his voice laced with concern as he directed Eun, who was standing next to Jandi, to focus her attention on her friend. Eun, still a little dazed from the wild night she had spent with the boy who seemed unaffected by the alcohol they'd consumed, had barely noticed the subtle tension hanging in the air.
The previous night had been a blur, the night they spent running around the cruise, causing a ruckus, only to collapse on the carpet of her room, surrounded by snacks and empty bottles. Eun had woken up the next morning, fully tucked into bed with a note beside her, a reminder of who had taken care of her, who had tucked her in, and who had slipped out quietly before breakfast. There was a strange mix of guilt and confusion in her thoughts as she tried to piece together what had happened, but the question of Junpyo's sudden departure seemed like the only thing that mattered to Yijeong now.
"I didn't see him with his girl," Woobin added, voice slightly tinged with curiosity, trying to provide some clarity.
"Maybe they had a fight. She was in his room when I went in the morning."
Yijeong's gaze stayed on Jandi as Woobin spoke, but it was hard not to notice how Jandi instinctively tugged at the sleeves of her sweater, a motion that seemed entirely too deliberate to be casual. She pulled the fabric down, covering her hands, as if she was trying to hide something. Something that hadn't been there before. The subtle action caught Yijeong's attention, and his eyes never strayed from her, trying to read her.
"He hasn't been with her for a while, so I doubt it's that," Yijeong said, his voice steady, though there was a slight shift in his tone as he continued to observe Jandi carefully.
" He wasn't even sleeping in the same room as her the whole time here. He was on the couch if he even slept, " Yijeong added. Jandi, feeling the weight of his gaze, slowly turned to meet his eyes. For a moment, their eyes locked, and something unspoken passed between them—a flicker of recognition, of understanding. She quickly broke the stare, her fingers pulling at the sweater sleeves once more, a nervous habit that betrayed the calm mask she had tried so hard to maintain. Yijeong didn't look away, though. His eyes were relentless, piercing through the exterior she had worked so hard to perfect. Even Woobin, ever oblivious to the complexities of emotions, couldn't help but glance at Jandi, sensing a shift in the dynamics of the group.
Yijeong's sharpness wasn't lost on him. Woobin tried to mask his curiosity by muttering something about the weather, but it was clear that something was off. Junpyo's absence, his sudden departure, wasn't just about him—it was about them, too. And whatever had happened, whatever had caused Junpyo to leave without a word, was affecting them all in ways they couldn't yet fully understand.
"Maybe he had some family issue," Yijeong suggested, his tone light but his words carefully chosen to diffuse the tension in the air. He gave Jihoo a soft, reassuring smile, trying to keep the mood from tipping further into awkwardness.
"That could be it," Woobin chimed in, surprising even Eun with his insight.
"I heard there's a shareholders' meeting to vote on something big." His casual mention of the business dealings was unexpected, especially coming from him. Woobin didn't exactly strike anyone as someone who kept up with the family business, yet there he was, dropping information that clearly caught everyone off guard.
"That's tomorrow" Jihoo looked up from the text he was writing.
"I'll stop by his house and see what's up," Yijeong offered, before Jihoo could even think of making the suggestion himself. He spoke with such a calm, matter-of-fact tone, as if he was simply making the decision, but there was something about the way he said it that seemed more intentional. It was as if he knew exactly how things were going to unfold if Jihoo was the first to find Junpyo.
"You should make sure she gets home safe," Yijeong added with another soft smile, his gaze lingering on Jandi. It wasn't just a suggestion—it was a quiet command, the kind that only someone who truly understood the situation would make. Jandi's eyes shifted uncomfortably at the attention. Jihoo hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking over to Jandi, who had been unnervingly quiet since they left the breakfast table.
"I will drop her off on my way too," Yijeong continued, his focus shifting towards Eun, his chin gesturing toward her. Eun blinked in surprise but nodded in acknowledgment, her attention briefly breaking from the ongoing, unspoken exchange between her and Yijeong. She did need some alone time with him to confirm what she remembers of last night was what actually happened.
Woobin, still a bit lost from the previous night's events, couldn't help but stare at Yijeong with a puzzled 's sudden offer to drop Eun off, without any real context or explanation, only added to the mystery of Yijeong had disappeared to last night. As Yijeong effortlessly helped Eun place her bag in the back of the car, Woobin's eyes followed the movements, lingering for a moment on the way Yijeong handled things—on the way he acted so deliberately. The pieces were there, but the puzzle wasn't complete. Woobin's gaze shifted, then, from Yijeong's car to Jihoo's, which was already pulling away from the parking spot. The two cars, separate in their destinations, moved off in tandem.
Jandi, who had barely spoken since breakfast, sat silently, her thoughts swirling as she stared out of the window, the world outside blurring into nothingness. Whatever had happened to Junpyo, whatever had made him run away, was only the beginning of what had happened. What does it all mean for her, for them? ..was there a "them?" The questions pressed on her chest, but no answers seemed to come.
"Do you feel better now?" Jihoo asked, glancing over at her with a gentle smile. The morning had been a quiet one, but he had hoped the fresh air and calm atmosphere would lift her spirits after the chaos of this trip.
"Yes," Jandi replied softly, offering a faint smile of her own. She adjusted her seat, clasping her hands together as they rested on her lap. The wind outside made her cardigan flutter slightly, but it was a minor comfort compared to the deep unease crawling under her skin. She felt like she was wearing a mask, trying to force normalcy into a situation that felt anything but. Her mind, still tangled in confusion, wouldn't let go of the feeling that something was off. The cruise she was leaving behind carried with it a memory that was like a seed. A seed that had been planted deep within her—a memory. A seed that will take root, and begin to stretch into every corner of her mind. It was a slow, creeping thing, dragging her closer to something inevitable. That was what kept her mind occupied even during the lavish breakfast they had shared. The two bites she had managed to take had been before Yijeong casually mentioned Junpyo's early departure and Woobin had dropped the bomb about him leaving at dawn. That was when her momentary peace shattered, the calm she had tried to find in the cold shower and quiet breakfast evaporating.
The long drive, even as the car pulled over at the bus station she placed in the gps for him, Jandi's thoughts weren't as clear for her to focus on just the man pulling her bag from the back seat.
"Have some hangover soup and sleep it off. It'll go away," Jihoo continued, completely unaware of the storm raging in her mind. He was still offering his usual remedies with a smile, trying to make her feel at ease, and Jandi appreciated his kindness.
"Thank you so much for the trip and everything," she said, her voice tinged with a sincerity she hadn't fully intended. But there was something in her tone, a quiet gratitude that only Jihoo seemed to hear.
"I really mean it. Thank you for being so kind to me" she added, looking him in the eye. The words felt heavier now, as if she was saying more than just a thank you for the trip. Jihoo smiled back, his eyes soft and patient, but there was a flicker of something behind them—a hesitation, perhaps, to bring up the events of the night before. He could have pressed her, asked about the night, but he chose not to.
"It's my pleasure," he replied, his hands slipping into his pockets as he offered her the same comforting smile she had come to expect from him.
"See you at school tomorrow?" he asked casually, reaching out to gently brush her hair away from her face, his touch light but reassuring.
"Of course," Jandi replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She averted her gaze, her neck tilting slightly downward as her hair fell back into place, creating a slight barrier between them. Jihoo withdrew his hand, but his smile remained.
Like she promised Jandi arrived at school early on Tuesday, her feet dragging as she walked through the almost empty campus. She settled into the library, trying to focus on her work, but the weight of her thoughts kept pulling her away from the task at hand. It wasn't long before her phone buzzed with a text from Jihoo. He was at the F4 lounge.
Her rush to the lounge, Jandi hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath. She paused at the door, gathering her composure, before stepping inside.
"HEYY!" Yijeong's voice greeted her with far more excitement than she was prepared for. She managed a small smile, nodding at him in acknowledgment.
"Hi," she murmured, her attention quickly shifting to Jihoo, who was carefully making tea. Her eyes did a quick scan of the room before returning to Jihoo.
"I'm making you one," Jihoo said, lifting the cup he was pouring warm water into.
"Do you feel better?"
"Yes. I'm fine," Jandi replied quickly, her tone as neutral as she could muster.
Yijeong set his phone down, suddenly more interested in her than his own device.
"Why? What happened?"
"She wasn't feeling well last night on the cruise," Jihoo explained, answering for her, though Jandi hadn't intended to share much with Yijeong. She glanced at him, the same curious look from the day before in his eyes. She had grown used to it, but today it felt more like an interrogation.
"I see," Yijeong said with a knowing smirk as he watched her approach. His eyes scanned her outfit—her trainer pants beneath her skirt, tucked into her boots, her hair in a messy low bun, and her bare face—before he raised a brow.
She quickly averted his gaze, moving past him toward Jihoo. Yijeong's smirk deepened as he leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "He's not here." before she passed him. He has seen her eyes scanning the room as though they were looking for something. Jandi's eyes widened briefly. She couldn't hide her reaction, her mind racing with questions. Does Yijeong know? Did Junpyo tell him? The thought gnawed at her, but she pushed it aside as Jihoo handed her the cup of tea.
"Here's your tea," Jihoo said, his voice cutting through the tension that Yijeong had sparked. Yijeong didn't wait for a response while Jihoo's mind was too preoccupied to care about the exchange.
They left the F4 lounge together, Jihoo's words barely registering as Jandi's mind spiraled with thoughts of what Yijeong might know. She had to find a way to stop him from spreading anything that might cause even more chaos. Her anxiety was palpable, and as they walked toward the student council office, she couldn't help but feel that something was about to shift in ways she wasn't prepared for.
Unbeknownst to her, on the balcony above, a different kind of plan was being set in motion. A group of girls watched closely, their eyes fixed on Jandi and Jihoo as they walked down the hallway. The girl that had humiliated them in front of all their peers, it wasn't hard to notice her past the crowd thanks to her distinct look.
"We need to teach her a lesson," one girl whispered, her voice barely audible but laced with venom.
"A hard lesson she'll never come back from," another added, her voice filled with malicious intent.
"She needs to be humiliated, to the point where she can't even show her face at this school, let alone dare date one of our F4 members," the third girl chimed in, her words sharp and deliberate. The leader of the group, eyes narrowing as she watched Jandi's small smile, gave a smirk. "I know exactly what to do."
The tension in the air thickened as the plan to bring Jandi down began to take shape, the quiet whispers of revenge ready to echo through the school in ways no one could predict.