Crossed Paths

ISA POV:

The weekend passed in a blur of tangled sheets and slow kisses, the memory of Chaeng and Kyunghwan incident is fading like a bruise. By Monday, things were almost normal, if normal meant a group chat where Chaeng sent increasingly unhinged messages ("miss u guys 😘") and Kyunghwan followed up with winking emojis. Jiwon groaned every time his phone buzzed, but I caught him smiling once when he thought I wasn’t looking.

We fell back into our rhythm easily, stealing moments whenever we can, his hands gentle as he pinned me against the kitchen counter, my laughter muffled against his lips. Even the way he fucked me changed, slower, deeper, like he was relearning my body without the heat of competition. "God, I love you," I whispered once, breathless, and the way his grip tightened on my hips made my chest ache.

The group chat exploded at random intervals, Chaeng's blurry selfie with Kyunghwan's hand disappearing under her shirt, followed by Kyunghwan's reply "She started it 😈". Jiwon left them on read, but I caught him zooming in on Chaeng's flushed expression once, his thumb hovering over the screen before he tossed his phone aside with a grunt.

Thursday arrived, paperwork piled on my desk. My lunch break vanished into spreadsheets and coffee. Chaeng's latest text, a suggestive selfie with her lips wrapped around a lollipop, flashed on my screen, Kyunghwan’s immediate “🔥” beneath it. 

Jiwon had left for Busan early, his kiss lingering on my temple, his scent clinging to mine. “See you  on Sunday,” he’d murmured, fingers brushing my waist as he slipped out, the promise of new frames for his shop brightening his tired eyes.

The group chat pinged again, Chaeng’s face pressed against the train window, the blur of countryside streaking behind her, captioned “Off to Busan for a photoshoot 😜.” Kyunghwan responded instantly: “Don’t break any cameras, gorgeous.” Jiwon’s lone thumbs-up appeared minutes later, detached, polite. I typed a quick “Safe trip” before silencing my phone, the office printer wheezing to life beside me. Outside, the sun dipped low, casting long shadows over my unfinished reports.

Midnight crept up unnoticed, the hum of the AC is the only sound left in the empty office. My fingers cramped around the mouse as I attached the final document, sending it off with a tired exhale. 

The elevator groaned on its way down, the flickering lights in the lobby making my head ache. The bus stop was deserted when I arrived, the last bus sighing to a halt just as I slumped onto its seat. The ride home blurred into fragments: the driver’s sleepy yawn, the ache in my lower back, neon signs reflecting off its window making my headache feel more terrible.

The shower takes away the exhaustion. Jiwon’s pillow smelled like him when I buried my face in it, and I fell asleep before I could overthink Chaeng’s latest text, Kyunghwan’s emoji replies, or the way Jiwon’s fingers lingered on my wrist before he left. 

Morning arrives abruptly, my boss’s email notification buzzing my phone awake at 7:03AM, three words sharpening the day into focus: Presentation at 10.

We closed the deal past 4PM, Our Boss slapped the table and declared drinks on the company for a job well done.

We clocked out early, went to the company's favorite bar and celebrated with soju, beer and unlimited anju for our team. The place smelled like samgyupsal and cheap alcohol, the sticky tables already littered with empty bottles from our celebration.

It was around 8PM when the team called it quits, the boys dragged our boss to a taxi, and we bid farewell to each other. As I walked towards my bus stop, rain suddenly started pouring, not the gentle kind that lulls you to sleep, but the violent sort that soaks through your clothes in seconds.

I ran toward the bus stop to take shelter, but missed the bus when I got there. The taillights blurred through the downpour as the bus pulled away, leaving me standing stupidly with one arm outstretched like I could will it back. Rain slid down my neck, soaking through my blouse until it clung transparently to my skin. The soju made me feel warm. The streetlights looked fuzzy and bright.

Then someone tapped my shoulder.

There he was, Kyunghwan soaked in the rain, smiling like an idiot. (He is, I thought to myself.) "Hi there," he said, shaking his head like a wet dog, droplets flying off his dark hair. His white shirt clung transparently to his chest, the outline of his tattoos visible through the fabric, a dragon across his ribs, something I hadn't noticed that night at Jiwon's apartment.

He took a selfie while I was in the background, then sent it to the group chat with a wink emoji: "look who I met soaking wet." The silence that followed was deafening, no immediate replies from Chaeng, no sarcastic reply from Jiwon.

Kyunghwan's fingers were warm despite the rain, tipping my chin up with a rough gentleness that made my breath hitch. The bright neon sign from the convenient store lit up his smirk in a harsh pink light. "That Jiwon," he murmured, thumb brushing the raindrop clinging to my lower lip, "is extremely lucky to have such a looker of a girlfriend." The words should've felt like teasing, they always did when Chaeng said them, but the way his gaze dragged down my soaked blouse turned them into something heavier.

Maybe it was the alcohol, the cheap soju and beer still buzzing faintly in my body but I didn’t stop him when his fingers slid down to my wrist, his grip firm but gentle. Kyunghwan grinned wide, his teeth showing. Rain dripped from his chin as he pulled me along. With every step, our shoes splashed through puddles from the rain. 

"Come on," he murmured, voice low enough that I felt it more than heard it, the vibration threading through the space between us. I should’ve pulled away. Should’ve laughed it off, made an excuse about the bus, about Jiwon, about anything. But the rain kept falling, and my body moved anyway, following him like it had already decided without me.

The next thing I knew, he was pulling me towards the closest cheap hotel, Kyunghwan’s grip was unrelenting, his fingers threaded through mine like he expected resistance, like he wanted me to pull away just so he could tighten his hold.

The door clicked shut behind us. Kyunghwan didn’t hesitate he shoved me toward the bed, the cheap sheets scratched against my soaked thighs as I stumbled backward. "Strip," he ordered, already yanking his shirt over his head, water droplets flying off his skin. I clutched the hem of my blouse, my fingers numb from cold or nerves, I couldn’t tell. Kyunghwan kicked off his shoes, his socks landing with a wet slap near the bathroom door. "Why are you still dressed?" he asked, eyebrow arched as he walked toward the room’s tiny washing machine, his jeans unbuttoned but still clinging to his hips.

"It's not like I haven't seen that," Kyunghwan said with a smirk, his fingers already working on his belt buckle. "Or do you need some help taking those clothes off?" Water dripped from his dark hair onto the hotel carpet as he stepped closer. My fingers trembled against my soaked blouse buttons not from cold, His gaze cut right through the thin fabric, as if I were already naked in front of him.

He hung his belt and threw all his clothes, including his boxers into the washer, completely naked as he walked toward me. Rainwater still glistened on his shoulders, "We don't want you to get sick now, do we, Ms. Chaeyoung?" he murmured against my ear, his breath warm against the chill clinging to my skin. His hands slid under my soaked blouse, fingertips skimming my ribs as he peeled the fabric away. I shuddered, not from the cold, but from the way he said my name.

I don’t know if I wanted this or if it was the alcohol, but I let him strip me completely. His hands glided down my skin, toward my skirt, unclasping it with practiced ease, letting it fall to the floor. The damp fabric pooled around my ankles, and I stepped out of it like shedding a second skin. Kyunghwan’s fingers traced the curve of my hips, He touched me lightly but carefully, like he was trying to memorize the shape of me. “There,” he murmured, voice rough with something that wasn’t just amusement. “Better.”