You woke up confused. The last memory you had of the previous night was definitely falling asleep on the couch, but now you were warm and tucked in your bed. After a quick mental run through, the only conclusion besides sleepwalking - which you had never done before - that seemed reasonable was that Junmyeon had brought you to bed, as all the other boys were long gone. The thought of him carrying you through the halls towards your bedroom didn’t disgust you like you would have expected, but you were still confused as to why he would even bother.

Stumbling to the bathroom, you washed your face, hoping that would wake you up more. You got dressed in simple jeans and a tank top before shuffling back towards the bed.

On top of the album that was currently resting on the nightstand was a thin white box. Taking the lid off, you found black cloth folded neatly inside. Too curious to leave it alone, you picked the clothing up and groaned.

It was a dress, a clothing item you hadn’t worn since high school. On further inspection of the piece, you were becoming livid. The dress was short, barely coming mid-thigh. It had a high neck which didn’t really compensate for the fact that there was no back to it.

Junmyeon didn’t seem like the type to randomly give you gifts. Even if he was, this gift rang loud and clear as to just how little he actually knew about you.

Preparing to throw the thing into Junmyeon’s office for him to find later tonight, you stormed out of the room and down the hall. But you didn’t make it too far before you spotted your target.

Sitting at the island, drinking coffee and reading over the newspaper was Junmyeon in a white t-shirt and sweatpants. You’d suspected from the way his suits were cut that he took care of himself, but from the way the cotton fabric clung to his torso, you’d say he put a little more effort into it than your average Joe.

Stop it. You will not ogle at him!

He hadn’t noticed you standing there at the edge of the kitchen so you cleared your throat to get his attention. Putting the newspaper down, Junmyeon met your eye.

“Good morning,” he greet, a crooked smile on his lips.

The friendly demeanor threw you off, letting you do little more than blink. Mentally slapping yourself back on track, you held out the dress. “What is this?”

“I believe it’s called a dress,” he answered sarcastically. “However, I’ve never worn one myself.”

“Ha ha,” you clapped back. “What exactly do you expect me to do with it?”

Junmyeon finished his coffee and walked over to the sink to rinse the mug out before answering me. “I expect you to wear it tonight. We have an event that requires all of us to be there. Since no one can stay behind to watch you, you’ll have to come with us. There’s an expectation on attire at these events. You can’t just wear jeans and sneakers. From what the guys told me, you don’t own a single dress, so I had one picked up for you.”

You balled the dress up in your hands, tempted to put a rip in it. “Or you could have saved yourself some money and let me stay here. You can trust me, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

It was the truth, as much as you hated to admit it. While you were still struggling to forgive your adoptive parents for signing your basic human rights away, you still loved them and would uphold the bargain for them. You haven’t broken any of Junmyeon’s rules so far. Wasn’t that proof enough?

A little bit of hope grew when Junmyeon turned to look at you. He seemed to taking in what you were saying and actually considering it. And then the hopes were dashed.

“No,” he stated. “I need you there.”

“I told you, I am not a trophy,” you reminded him through clenched teeth. You felt like a Barbie doll for him to dress up and put on display for his other mafia buddies.

“I’m not taking you to show you off,” he said sternly. “I just need you there.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, tossing the dress onto one of the stools. Sulking over to the fridge, you took out ingredients for breakfast. You glanced over at Junmyeon, who’d sat back down at the island and picked the newspaper up once again. “Have you eaten?”

His eyes snapped up at you, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Breakfast,” you offered, holding up the carton of eggs. “Have you eaten that meal yet? They kind of say it’s the most important of the day.”

“Oh, um,” Junmyeon pressed his lips together. “No, I haven’t. I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

You turned the stove on and started whipping up the eggs. “Do you have anywhere to be?”

“No, not at the moment.”

“Okay, then,” you nodded. “I’ll make you some.”

The kitchen was silent, save for the occasional scraping of the pan and the toast popping up once it was finished. You didn’t bother asking Junmyeon how he liked any of his food. You didn’t want to seem like you were eager to please. It was simply a gesture in trying to be nice, but you weren’t a personal chef.

You weren’t even sure why you were being so nice. He’d just declared that you would be forced to go to whatever event he had scheduled tonight and that there was no way in hell you’d be allowed to stay behind. Really, you should have been making your own breakfast and devouring it in front of him spitefully. And yet, here you were, cooking for two.

Junmyeon never took his eyes off of you as you slaved over the stove, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. What was going through his head, you wondered. Perhaps your kindness was confusing him. Maybe that’s why you were doing it: to show him the opposite of what he was expecting.

With the food done, you made up two plates and set one down in front of your fiancé.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, picking up the fork you’d slid in his direction. You couldn’t exactly eat a western breakfast with chopsticks.

“Mhmm,” you hummed back.

“Do, um,” Junmyeon scratched the back of his neck nervously, “do you want any coffee? I can make another pot.”

You shook your head, “No, thank you. I don’t really drink coffee.”

A sound that was halfway between a laugh and a snort echoed off the walls. You could hardly believe that its source was Junmyeon.

“Minseok would be scandalized to hear you say that.”

You titled my head in confusion. Was there a tenth person you hadn’t met yet? “Who?”

“Xiumun,” he clarified. “That’s his real name. And he is… well, let’s just call him a coffee enthusiast.”

“Oh.” You chewed on your bottom lip, looking around the kitchen, “I would like some tea. I found some last night that was on the counter, but I don’t remember exactly where–”

Junmyeon jumped up and went over to the cabinet in the far corner. He opened the door to reveal two shelves filled with different assortments of tea. You may have gone to heaven.

“What kind do you like?” Junmyeon asked, looking over his shoulder at me.

You blinked. Was he really going to make it for you himself? “Um, green tea is fine.”

He took down an open box and plopped the little Keurig cup into the coffee maker. It seemed like a crime against tea to make it that way, but you decided to play nice. He was going out of his way to make it, which were you still in shock from. Placing the steaming mug in front of you, Junmyeon sat back down on his stool and continued eating.

“Thank you,” you said shyly. Considering you’d stormed into this kitchen in a raging fire, it was odd, the dynamic you were sitting in right now. It was almost… domestic.

Junmyeon finished off his plate first. You told him you would clean the dishes when he stood up and he excused himself to his office, leaving you alone.

The kitchen felt suddenly empty. You kept hoping that one of the boys would come stomping in to break the loneliness, but that hope was never fulfilled. Usually at least someone had arrived at the penthouse by now. Was it because was still here that they stayed away?

It was strange, the way you looked forward to spending time with them. In the past you didn’t care for people, preferring to be the loner in the corner, left to your own devices and content. Maybe it was the fact that you were locked up here that made you accept their presence and rely on it to not lose your mind or become depressed.

Or maybe you needed a specific type of person to make you comfortable and actually like to be around others. The type that wouldn’t judge or stare because of your “otherness”. You just hoped that specific type wasn’t their mafia association.

Finished with your own plate, you filled up the sink with soapy water and began to hand wash all the dishes.

As much as you hated other chores growing up, you never really minded doing the dishes. There was something relaxing about it. At home, you would put on music and bob to it while trying not to splash water everywhere. Here, you didn’t have access to your phone, so instead you hummed whatever song popped into your head as you scrubbed at the dirty plates.

All done, you unplugged the stopper to drain the dirty water and gave all the dishes one last rinse with the hose before gently setting the drying rack the rest of the way down in the sink. You’d put them away later once they were free off all little water droplets.

“Are you done?”

You jumped, letting out a small yelp as you turned around. Junmyeon had suddenly reappeared, now wearing jeans instead of sweats. It was strange to see him in such… normal clothing. You figured he just wore a suit twenty-four seven and didn’t even know what the word “casual” meant.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” you answered, trying to get your heartbeat back down to a regulated rhythm. “Did you need something?”

“Let me see your hand,” Junmyoen directed, holding out his own, palm up. You placed your right hand into his hesitantly, but he dropped it straightaway. “No, your other hand.”

When you gave him your left hand, he slid a diamond ring onto that foreboding little finger. It was small, nothing too grand or over-the-top like you would have guess. It was a single, medium-sized diamond set on a woven silver band.

“What is this?” you asked dumbly. It was obvious what the ring represented, you just never thought he would go this far.

“It’s a ring,” he deadpanned. “People tend to wear them when they get engaged.”

You crossed your arms, looking pointedly at his empty finger. “Where’s yours?”

“I don’t wear jewelry.”

You huffed, yanking the ring off your finger. You didn’t care how pretty it was; it was another symbol of your enslavement. Shoving the ring into his chest, you didn’t bother to make sure he caught it as you stomped back to your room.

Curled up on your bed, you stayed there for hours, finishing up the book you’d bought before your freedom vanished.

The main character of the book kept reciting the phrase “the sins of the father will be visited upon the children”. If you weren’t so invested in the story, you would have thrown the book across the room for mocking you with that statement. It was all too real in your world.

But what would have happened if your parents had never died? Would you have always been a part of this world, circling the edge until the tide finally you in? Taegun had said that you were supposed to marry another mafia leader’s son. You wondered if your father would have agreed to that, if he would have allowed that to happen to you, his only daughter.

You liked who you were now and didn’t want to image being like Michelle Pfieffer in Scarface. Okay, you doubted it would have been that extreme. Maybe more like Diane Keaton in The Godfather, tricked into a world that you didn’t quite understand but had no choice other than to stay.

A knock on your door brought you out of those ridiculous imaginations and back to your current predicament.

“Who is it?” you called out as you sat up.

“It’s Chen.”

Lazily getting off the bed, you went to open the door. Chen was standing in the hallway, dressed in a very expensive tuxedo that was cut just for him. His hair was slicked to the side and his bright smile was absent, only an apologetic look on his face. In his hand was the stupid black dress.

“We have to leave in an hour,” he informed you. “Junmyeon told me to have you get ready now.”

You had to bite down painfully on your tongue. It wasn’t Chen’s fault and only repeating that in your head kept the sarcastic remarks at bay.

Sighing, you took the dress back. If only you’d thrown it out the window instead. “I don’t have shoes to go with this.”

Guiltily, Chen brought out his hand that was hiding behind his back, holding out a pair of black pumps. You were probably weren’t lucky enough for them to be the wrong size. Junmyeon was too thorough for that.

You stared open mouthed at the height of the heels. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

That actually got a laugh out of him. “You’ll be fine. Get ready.” He handed you the shoes and then fished something out of his pocket. “Before I forget.” Opening up his palm, he revealed in his hand the engagement ring.

Just when he was creeping up your list of favorites. You rolled your eyes, walking away from the door.

“He picked it out himself,” Chen added, as if that would make it any better. “Xiumun and Baekhyun tried to get him to go with something flashier since he could afford it, but he said you would like the simpler one. Just so you know.” He set the ring down on the vanity that sat across from your bed and left.

Closing the door, you threw down the shoes and tossed the dress on the bed. As quick as you could, you jumped in and out of the shower and hurried to dry every inch of you before putting on makeup. You weren’t an extraordinaire in the art of applying cosmetics, but you knew the basics well enough to be presentable.

For about five minutes you debated on what to do with your hair before settling on leaving it as is. No need to go the extra mile for this crowd.  

The dress fit perfectly, to your dismay. There had been a tiny sliver of hope that maybe it would be too small or too big and then you’d be free to stay behind with nothing to else wear, but, sadly, that was not the case. You slipped on the shoes and walked much better in them than you thought you would as you trekked down the hall. With barely five minutes until the hour deadline was up, you strolled into the living room where all nine men were dressed to perfection.

Your eyes met Yixing first, who beamed with his irresistible dimple at you. Chen let out a low whistle while Kai smirked, making you the tiniest bit smug. So this was why Minah dressed up so much.

Junmyeon had his back to you, checking the expensive watch that adorned his wrist. At the noise his men were making, he glanced over his shoulder and then froze when your eyes met. He took in your appearance from top to bottom. Feeling sorry about your earlier behavior, you’d put the ring back on, which didn’t go unnoticed by the mafia leader. His gaze lingered on the ring a little longer than necessary as if he was relishing in its presence.

“All right, boys,” he called out, his eyes drifting back up to your face. “Head to the garage. We’ll meet you down there shortly.”

Without a word of complaint, they all filed into the elevator, their eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you who remained.

Once the doors had closed and the light indicated they were headed down, Junmyeon pulled a long black velvet case out of his inside pocket. He closed the distance between you and opened the box for you to see the sparkling diamond bracelet inside.

If he was expecting a gasp or a smile, he was vastly mistaken.

You simply raised an eyebrow at the gesture. “You know, I don’t have any experience in that area, but this is the second piece of jewelry you’ve given me today and according to the movies, that means you’re apologizing for something.”

Junmyeon actually looked taken aback by your brazen statement.

“I’m just trying to be nice,” he argued, snatching the bracelet out of the box and clasping it around your wrist.

“Did you get all your girlfriends jewelry?” It was poking a sleeping bear, but, admittedly, you were having a little too much fun watching his expressions change so quickly.

“They never lasted long enough,” he smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. As if portraying the bad boy would make you swoon or put you on edge.

“Wow,” you feigned surprise. “You couldn’t get them stick around for any longer than two weeks? That’s so sad.”

That wiped the grin of off his face. “All right, enough. Let’s get going.”

The boys were already sitting in two black SUVs in the parking garage, the engines running by the time you reached the garage. Chen stood next to the same Cadillac you were picked up in before, holding the back door open. Junmyeon helped you into the back seat of the car, surprising you with his chivalry.

It was a quiet ride as Chen drove the way to wherever the hell it was you were forced to go to for the night. Junmyeon kept his attention on the tablet in his hand as if he were completely alone in the back seat. Chen sometimes made eye contact with you in the rearview mirror, causing both of you to crack a smile in the weird silence.

The final destination turned out to be a dingy, one-story brick building in a rundown warehouse district. There was no one outside or even other cars to indicate that this was a gathering place of any kind. Confused, you hadn’t notice Chen get out of the car and open your door.

He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “(y/n).”

Embarrassed, you took his outstretched hand. “Sorry.”

Junmyeon stepped out on the other side, glancing around.

“Usual parking spot?” Chen asked. Junmyeon nodded and Chen hopped back behind the wheel, heading down an alley on the far side of the building as the two SUV’s followed him.

The air was chillier than you thought it would be and you regretted not bringing a jacket or even a scarf to keep you somewhat protected from the breeze. Junmyeon pulled you in close, placing your hand on the inside of his upper arm. You weren’t sure if it was because he noticed you were cold or to show that you belonged to him. At least your fingers were warm.

Inside, the building wasn’t much cleaner than its outer appearance and it seemed smaller than you would have guessed from the dimensions of the exterior walls. At the far end, there were two men flanking either side of a plain wooden door, pistols resting comfortably on their hips for the world to see.

You pushed down your curiosity that was itching to ask questions as Junmyeon led you towards the men, too afraid to make a sound beyond your heels clicking against the concrete. They nodded at Junmyeon silently and opened the door.

From all appearances, it should have led to either a back street or a very narrow room. Instead, a staircase was revealed. Music and chatter attacked your ears as you headed down the creaky, spiraling steps. Big, heavy, red velvet curtains cut the staircase off from whatever was waiting for you on the other side.

Pushed aside, they revealed a large, underground casino. Dozens of table were set up for people with too much money to place bets on craps, play blackjack or poker, or simply be swindled out of everything in their wallet in any way imaginable. Some of the tables were on even elevated platforms like a spectacle. From the amount of chips in front of those players, you assumed those were reserved for high paying clients.

By instinct, you clung closer to Junmyeon. You hated large crowds, especially when you didn’t know a vast majority of them or their intentions. The entire situation was sending your system into overdrive and you had to concentrate on your breathing to keep it from getting too shallow and causing you to hyperventilate. Sensing your nervousness, Junmyeon pulled you away from the floor, not stopping until you reached a bar set up on the far side.

With soft hands, he pushed you down onto a stool to rest. To the bartender, he said, “I’ll have whiskey on the rocks and a glass of red wine for her.”

“I don’t really drink,” you mumbled.

Junmyeon let out a short laugh. “Is there anything you drink besides tea? Just sip on the wine, it’ll help with your nerves.” He leaned in close to you, his breath on your ear and neck. From an outsider’s perspective, it might have looked seductive or even romantic. “If you’re nervous, then you’ll make the others here nervous and that doesn’t end pretty. Stay here until I come get you, okay?”

At the mention of him leaving you alone in this place, your hand snatched up and clutched onto his jacket sleeve. Your heart was pounding in your chest to the point that you thought it might give out. You knew this particular feeling all too well.

“Please, don’t leave me,” you pleaded back in his ear. “I… I have bad anxiety in crowds. This is why I wanted to stay home. I can already feel the panic attack starting.”

Pulling back just a bit, you were met with guilty eyes. Junmyeon nodded sympathetically before pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t protest or push him away.

“I have to speak with these clients and they wouldn’t like a new face around no matter how pretty, but I’ll find Chen or Baekhyun to come stay with you until I need you again, okay?”

You were still in shock from the little sign of affection that all you could do was nod. He smiled down at you, caressing your cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

You tried to sip on the wine, but your nerves were still too on edge waiting for one of the boys to come to your rescue that the glass was empty in just a few gulps. The bartender refilled your glass instantly and you didn’t really protest. Massaging your temples, you tried to block out the voices milling about and pretend that you were in an empty bar in a nice neighborhood that never saw any trouble and you were in no danger whatsoever.

“Well, I didn’t think it was possible, but you grew up to be even more beautiful than I’d imagined.”

A man you were sure you had never seen before sat on the empty stool beside you as if he name was written on it. He was tall and lithe, his knees barely able to fit underneath the bar. Underneath thick eyebrows were a pair of roguish eyes that gleamed with excitement. His lips were naturally puckered and his brown hair was of a longer length and slicked back by hair gel to reveal an undercut. The styling made him stick out in this crowd who went for a much more classic look. Something about the way he looked at you made you forget all about the packed room and not in a good way.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to stay polite. “I think you have me confused with someone else.” Starting to stand, you decided that you would go look for one of the boys even though Junmyeon would probably be pissed that you didn’t stay put, even if to be away from this stranger.

Before you could get all the way up, the man grabbed your wrist. “Don’t be like that, (y/n).”

In utter shock, you collapsed back down onto your seat. “How do you know my name?”

He smirked. “Our fathers were friends, (y/n). You don’t remember your favorite Koko?”

A vague memory of you as a toddler calling out for someone named Koko flashed in your mind, but beyond that you were clueless. You couldn’t even be sure if that memory was real.

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried to remove your wrist from his grasp, but he held on, tightening his grip so you couldn’t flee.

“I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised,” he shrugged, not acknowledging your struggle. “You were only two the last time we saw each other face to face. My father took me to America to meet with your father. You would follow me everywhere, although as a seven-year-old I didn’t find it cute at the time. Turns out I came to miss it.”

The realization of who this man was hit you as the pieces fell into place. “Junko?”

His grin widened as he released his hold on your arm. “So, you do remember me?”

“Barely.” You figured that it was better to play along rather than saying you’d learned his name from Junmyeon. “As a toddler, you don’t form too many memories.”

“But I left some sort of impression.” Reaching out behind you, Junko glided his fingers down your exposed back, causing you to shiver.

You kept your focus on the wine, not letting him know he was getting to you when what you really wanted to do was run away screaming for one of the boys. “What do you want, Junko?”

He shrugged as his knuckles continued to caress your skin. “To catch up. And you can still call me Koko, you know.”

“I’m not a child anymore.”

“No, I can see that,” he hummed in a predatory tone.

“Lee Junko!”

Like a miracle, Junmyeon marched up to the bar, swatting Junko’s hand away and pulling you to your feet.

“Aw, Suho,” Junko clapped his hands, standing up. The name that he called Junmyeon caught you off guard, but if Xiumun had a different name, you shouldn’t be so surprised that the leader did too. “Long time no see. As much as I would like to catch up with you, I was already in the middle of something.”

“And now it’s over,” Junmyeon growled.

The grin was completely gone from Junko’s face. “And what right do you have to end it?”

Junmyeon wrapped a possessive arm around your waist. “She’s my fiancé.”

“What?” The sound came out of Junko’s throat like a whip. His eyes turned animalistic as they flashed between Junmyeon and you before settling on the ring on your finger. In a second, he had a fist full of Junmyeon’s collar. “She was promised to me!”

Junmyeon didn’t even flinch. “According to my sources, that was only ever a verbal agreement between your fathers, both who are now deceased. I, on the other hand, have a written document binding (y/n) to me signed by her legal guardians.”

A snarl appeared on Junko’s lips, but then he smiled. “A document that would be void by their sudden deaths before the wedding, I presume?”

Fear swept over every inch of your body. Images of him shooting down Taegun and Hyunmin were forming in your mind.

“Don’t you dare touch them!” you screeched. You lunged at Junko, hoping to claw his eyes out for even thinking about hurting them, but Junmyeon wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you in place. Junko just found it amusing.

“I’ll leave them alone,” he promised, his eyes trained on you, “if you come with me.”

Your chest heaved up and down. Junmyeon’s vice tightened around you, letting you exactly what his answer already was without giving you a choice.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Junko lifted his shoulders then let them drop lazily. “Suit yourself.” Shifting his dagger-like gaze to you, he leaned in close, practically bending in half to level his face with yours. “You’ll come to me eventually, (y/n). You were made for me. Make the right choice.”

Throwing one last smirk to Junmyeon, he turned around and melted into the crowd.

Once he was gone, the fight in you dissipated, too, and your knees buckled under you. Junmyeon’s grip was the only thing that kept you upright. Tears started falling down your cheeks, blurring your vision. Junmyeon helped you straighten back up, cradling your head against his chest.

“Shh. (y/n), don’t worry,” he whispered into your ear. You clung to him, unable to stop sobbing. “I promise you, he won’t get near them. I already have people watching them. I’ll double it. I’ll keep them safe.”

That gave you a small sense of relief. You believed him that he would keep them safe, even if it was to protect his own interest. While the tears kept coming, you were able to breathe again enough to say, “Thank you.”

“(y/n)!”

Chen pushed through the outer layer of people, huffing to catch his breath. Junmyeon carefully removed your fingers from his jacket, a fire in his eyes.

“Where the hell were you!” he yelled, making Chen flinched.

“I’m sorry, I was on my way over here, but I caught Ho Nam talking about the west shore and I couldn’t–” Chen finally glanced at you, noticing your red eyes. “, what happened?”

“Junko happened, that’s what,” Junmyeon snapped. “You were supposed to come straight to (y/n) so she wouldn’t be alone. Instead, Junko found her and threatened her family.”

Chen cursed. “(y/n), I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, looking down at the tile flooring.

“No, it’s not okay,” Junmyeon countered.

Yixing joined you just then, scanning the group. “I could hear you yelling over all these people. Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine now,” Junmyeon told him through clenched teeth. He stared at Yixing like he was debating a decision before sighing. “Yixing, can you watch over her? I don’t want Junko coming near her again.”

Yixing nodded before holding his hand out for you to take. You looked up Junmyeon, who wiped a tear from your cheek and then nudged you over to his private doctor. Once your hand was in his, Yixing guided you away from the others and through the tables and players until you reached a dance floor.

The music that you hadn’t noticed before was slow and melodic. There weren’t many couples in the sectioned off area, but that didn’t stop Yixing from twirling you into his arms and leading you around the dance floor expertly.

“I’m sorry you had to meet that monster,” Yixing said, breaking the silence.

“Technically, I’ve met him before,” you corrected. After getting a confused look, you explained, “I was really young. It was before my parents died so I don’t really remember him, however, I do vaguely remember someone named Koko. Apparently, that was him.”

“I know you’re worried, but we’ll take care of you,” Yixing promised. “You mean more than just a business deal to us now and I think I can speak for the others when I say we’ll fight for you ‘til death.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want anyone to die. Especially for me. I’m not that special. I know the simplest answer would be to just hand me over Junko, but Junmyeon won’t let that happen. Junko said he would go after my family–” you couldn’t finish that sentence as the tears were starting up again.

“Hey,” Yixing chuckled as he wiped away the trails on your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Don’t get upset. He won’t touch them.”

Sighing, you rested your head against Yixing’s chest, letting him rock you back and forth. His chin rested on the top of your head in a way that was meant to be comforting. But his presences wasn’t having the same effect on you as it did in the beginning. Sure, his smile still made you grin, but the butterflies no longer fluttered in your stomach.

A few minutes went by before Chen stepped in and interrupted the moment.

“(y/n), Junmyeon said I could take you home.” He threw a strange look to Yixing before smiling back at me.

Saying goodbye to Yixing, you let Chen walk you out of the illegal casino and into the back alleyway, relieved to be going to the penthouse that really was becoming home.