A/N This is a little different from the other stories because it's a bit ually charged. Nevertheless, enjoy. Also, this story is part of a series:

1) "All that I Know" - Lee Jeno. The basic characters are mentioned here. 

2) "Odyssey" - Lee Haechan. The main character of Odyssey is President Park's sister. 

This story is about how the journal of healing is different for everyone. Some people refuse to let go of the past. Some people try to find ways to break the pain into little pieces, slowing putting them together to feel complete. It's about people who've never lost someone before, finally understanding that maybe what we all need is to not feel alone in the process. 

And last but not least, it's about how there is a thin line between love and hate. 

Chapter 1

You’ve always loved to dance.

There was something losing yourself in the music and ending each session with a bow to end it. You’ve always it because you knew that you had freedom and control over your body unlike the other aspects of your life.

You forgot the last time you’ve danced. Life had ripped away the spark of it away, and now you were struggling to be in control of everything else.

This year was the worse for you, and you knew it was because you lost your sister to cancer.

“Park,” Chittaphon barked. You snapped out of your thoughts. “Were you listening to what I was saying?”

You were not listening to what he was saying. You did not know what to think of. You had to prioritize, but— A tsk from your assistant. Chittaphon Ten was the same age as you. His father worked as your family’s driver for far as long as you could remember, therefore, Chittaphon had always devoted his life to you and your family.

He was more like a brother than your assistant. Or… he was the closest thing to family. You’ve never thought of your parents as your “Mom and Dad”. They were simply people who funded your life, your education, and gave you things so you could give it back tenfold.

“Earth to you?” Chittaphon placed a file in front of you, and you blinked.

“I’m here,” you replied absentmindedly. Your eyes fell onto the radio beside the table. It was compact, and you brought it every where these days. You never cared for such devices before, but since your sister’s death, it was food for your famished soul. “Did Lee Haechan respond?”

Lee Haechan was your sister’s boyfriend on the last months of her life. He brought her places she wanted to go to, and he lit her face up in ways no one could ever. He loved every part of her, and you were grateful for him and everything he did.

When she passed, he disappeared from the world for a while. Two months, no one heard from him until you found out that he was still in South Korea. You missed your sister so much, and after one those nights of sleeping in her bed in your big family mansion, you decided to find out where he lived.

He was cooped up at some church that once belonged to his father.

You asked Chittaphon to send an item from your sister’s box of belongings. It was a rock CD, one of the ones your sister used to like to listen to when she was younger. The next day, Lee Haechan sent one of his songs to a radio station, and the world blew apart.

“Lee Haechan’s solo song!” was plastered over the news. Some speculated that it was about his own personal love story, and you knew it was true. It was about your sister. Without Mark’s collaboration in the song, people thought that Haechan was finally going solo from “Watermelon on a Sunny Day”; their duo boy band, but you knew that this was the start of Lee Haechan’s journey of healing.

You were trying to heal yourself with him.

You fed yourself on his songs, looking forward to a new one about your sister every time he tuned in. Every item you sent; he’d come out with a new song.

Rocks stars, galaxies, notebooks, and analogies
Inked tears, and rose printed bedsheets 
your broken laptop I’ve tried to fix,
wrinkled pages, scribbles of words
an entry about a lunar eclipse

She must miss you so,
I do too, (But baby) I must go
I’m holding on so tight
It’s torture when it’s night

You are everything that I see 
The sun, the sky, and everything you wanted to be
I miss you so, but I must go

One day, Chittaphon told you that Lee Haechan was gone. No more songs. You felt emptier than before.

You asked Chittaphon to find out where he was. You needed to hold onto something, something to look forward to keep you feeling like you still had fragments of your sister with you. You wanted him to keep writing songs, you wanted to keep sending him items, so you felt like you were not alone in missing her.

You never wanted it to stop so much you began to obsess over it.

“No traces of Lee Haechan,” Chittaphon replied, noticing how your eyes blanked out, and you looked back out the window. “The wedding is fast approaching, the Jung’s sent their list of guests. Do you want to look at it?”

“I could care less on who they’ve invited.”

“Who are you going to invite?” Chittaphon asked, and you pursed your lips. You had no friends; no one you considered family. “Other than me, because I’m obviously the one organizing it.”

“Give that task to my mother.” Chittaphon nodded, ticking something off on his notebook.

You had a wedding with Jung Jaehyun in two weeks. It was arranged. You despised him for your own complex reasons (though you despised everyone except your sister and Chittaphon). You met Jaehyun when you were eighteen.

His father was a well-known senator, and his whole family tree was tied with politics. His mother looked like she could conquer the world with every news that came out about her, her bun tied up high and her red lipstick. He was sent to New York for four years to pursue political science as a major.

Your family was filled with blood money. Your father owned a chain of hotels through out South Korea, and he expanded it beyond the country’s borders under his reign. Your mother came from a family that handled real estate. Together, they were seen as a power couple. You knew better than that, and their power together did not include love.

Jung Jaehyun was a major bomb in university. He was known to make girls fall in love with him, then break their hearts. A lot of girls wanted to “change him”, but you saw him for what he was.

A manwhore.

You were sitting down at a café studying for midterms one day, your old money customized bag placed on the table as a barrier for your eyes to not stray to the moving people in front of you. A chair was dragged out in front of you, and you were greeted by Stephanie. She smiled at you, and you already knew what was coming.

Stephanie loved to gossip; everything about her revolved around university drama or who was dating who, and what their relationship was like.

“I heard that you and Jay know each other, is it true?” She asked eagerly. The look on your face must have been tainted with confusion because she added in his real name with her very American accent. “Jung Jaehyun? The Korean Hottie of Poli Sci?”

Confusion was gone, annoyance replaced it. “I know nothing about Jung Jaehyun.”

“But Jay said he knows you!” She pushed, and you sighed.

You lowered your glasses, peering her from above the frame. “I have never spoken to Jung Jaehyun before. I don’t want to. I don’t intend to.”

“He said that you both met at some party when you were really young, like when you were eleven?” She continued, and you had no recollection of what she was talking about. She lowered her voice. “He said that you guys shared a kiss!”

Now this… This was new. You attended a lot of parties when you were younger. This was for your parents. But sharing a kiss? You were sure you’ve never met Jaehyun before, so what the hell was he talking about?

Jaehyun, in turn, was in his high-rise apartment in New York. His phone was blowing up about some party that was taking place that evening, and he knew he had to get ready. He rubbed his forehead, looking at the untouched books on the table.

“Midterms can wait,” he murmured. It didn’t take long for him to get ready, his phone ringing one more time. It was from an unknown number, the male answering it just to be bombarded with crying and questions.

Ah, one of the women he had slept with. He forgot her name. She was gorgeous, don’t get him wrong. Jaehyun, however, had a problem with keeping his interest with women going. They always had a thing with being vulnerable with him, and as much as he had empathy for them, he found himself retreating once he would meet a girl with emotional baggage.

There was one girl who seemed like she did not have emotional baggage, however, and that was you. If so, you seemed like the type to cause emotional baggage in people.

You were the oldest daughter of the Park family, and everyone called you Park since you never really told the Americans your name. It was easy to remember. He recalled you telling the professor of Introduction to Communication.

“Just ‘Park’ will do, I won’t be seeing you next semester anyway”, you said.

He knew of you; he met you once. He bet his life on the fact that you didn’t remember. He always wanted to talk to you, but it seemed to him that you always kept your distance from everyone else. You were not really a loner; people did not deem you as weird. They were intimidated by you, your stoic demeaner, and the way you spoke only when needed to.

He had to drop by the university to get his football uniform from his locker, so he did just that. While he was retrieving his uniform, some of teammate guffawing loudly in the background, the doors of the locker room opened and the clickity clack of the heels made all the men in the room turn to the sound.

“Isn’t that Park?”

“Oi, lady! You’re not supposed to be—” Jonathan, the captain was about to say, but you turned, and he shut up. Jaehyun watched as Jonathan gulped. If looks could kill, yours would be able to cause a massacre.

You were here for him, Jaehyun thought. Of course, you were. Words spread fast, and he expected you to find him the moment he told someone he had placed his lips on yours. There was nothing more girls like you hated other than extra attention.

“Jung Jaehyun,” you hissed, and Jaehyun gave you a small smile. You shoved Jonathan to the side, the male taken by surprise, and stumbling backwards.

“That’s me,” Jaehyun replied in Korean. “Is there anything you need?”

“Have we met before?” You answered his question with another of her own, your native tongue spilling from your lips. “Because the last time I checked, I’ve never even spoken to you.”

Jaehyun turned to shove his jersey into his bag.

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m never wrong,” you snapped. People were watching both of you; wondering what both of you were talking about. “You told them about the wrong girl. I have impeccable memory; I would know if I’ve lost my first kiss with someone when I was eleven.”

Jaehyun hummed, and you gritted your teeth. You took a step forward, Jaehyun not faltering.

“Tell them right now that it wasn’t me.”

Jaehyun shrugged, a hand going to tilt your chin up. “No can do. It’s not my fault that you don’t remember.”

You punched the locker, Jaehyun jumping at the sound. Your eyes flashed with anger, and to his surprise, the dent on his locker was evident.

“I have had to endure people coming up to me and asking me about bull when I should be studying for midterms.” You glowered at him, Jaehyun thinking that there was nothing hilarious than pissing someone like you off.

“Look, it happened.” He took a breath, crossing his arms across his chest.

“What happened?”

“For me to know, for you to find out.” He winked at you. Your hand came from no where to smack him on the chest, but Jaehyun saw it coming. He caught it, tightening his grip around your wrist. “Did I offend you in some way, Park? Did your parents never teach you how to control your emotions?”

You stomped on his feet with your heels, Jaehyun letting out a yelp.

“You think I’d say things if it’s not true?” He asked, massaging his foot. “I am a lot of things, Park.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“But I am not a liar.” He straightened his back, tilting his head to the side. “I have a party to go to. I have no time to deal with you.”

“Deal with me?” Your voice raised an octave in disbelief.

“You want to know what happened? Come to Stephanie’s party, I’ll relive it for you. Maybe you’ll finally understand why you can’t remember.”

It was curiosity that made you finally agree. A part of you was in denial that it was true, but he seemed so confident.

“I even have a photo,” he told you, and you frowned. “but… I’ll show it to you when I think it’s time.”

Jaehyun wanted to put you in your place. Sure, you were both eleven when it happened, but the way you were convinced it did not happen was by making him angry. It was making him angry even more that you had an outburst just to prove your point.

He saw it as immature, yet intriguing.

“Oh, loosen up.” He smiled at your grumpy face, a hand reaching up. You slapped it away. “It’s going to be fun. I might even let you sit on my lap.”

It was a few hours after and curiosity got the best of you, so you ended up in a luxury house owned by Stephanie, Jaehyun standing beside you in his best-dressed glory while you impatiently tapped your feet on the ground.

The party was hard for you enjoy when you were so tensed up with everyone around you acting like a bunch of high school kids. Jaehyun patted the small of your back, you automatically turning around and grabbing his hand to give it a tight squeeze.

“Relax, Park.”

“Everyone is acting barbaric and messy, and you’re telling me to relax.”

“They are liberated, unlike you,” he corrected you. “Have a drink, maybe you’ll enjoy it more. If you stay until the end of the party, I will tell you everything. I’ll even show you the picture. I’ll be over there with my friends. Stay safe.”

Jaehyun was never going to let you out of his sight. He had chosen the best seat so he could keep his eyes on you. Jaehyun felt a hand on his arm. Best if he would entertain himself with another girl while keeping his eye on you. It wasn’t long before she was pressed against his side while he forgot about you for a moment.

“Hey, Jonathan!” He called out, remembering you. “Did you see Park?”

Jonathan looked at him for a moment before shaking his head. Was he worried? No, he was just concerned he’d be blamed if something happened to you. You weren’t a party person.

But he was wrong.

You had given the punch a try, and when Jaehyun found you, you were in a punch drinking competition with a random dude named Steve. Your top was skewed to the side, and your bag was on the floor. Jaehyun smirked, leaning against the wall as he watched you knock glasses with Steve when he heard someone call his name.

“Hey! Are you coming to us to the club?” One of his friends asked, Jaehyun looking back in worry. He did not want to leave you alone. Any sane man would know that your night would not end very well if he left you in the hands of Steve.

“Let me go!” You grumbled to him, Jaehyun grabbing you to steer you to the car. Jonathan looked into the rearview mirror before chuckling.

“She finally caved, huh?”

“She’s a family friend, I just need to bring her home safely,” Jaehyun replied, everyone packing into the back of the car like sardines as you struggled on his lap. He held you tightly, a hand going to the top of your head so you wouldn’t bash it against the window.

“Hey, Park... We’re going to a club, are you joining us?”

“Yes!” You answered as Jaehyun covered your mouth. No, he wouldn’t have the patience to handle an over-intoxicated you. But both of you did end up in the club despite Jaehyun’s protest. He didn’t regret allowing it to happen, because you and Jaehyun were pressed up against each other and lip locking like your life depended on it.

His hands found it’s way on your bare waist, and maybe it was the alcohol that threw out every single consciousness out the window, but you were pretty sure he was having the time of his life grinding against your .

You went home with Jaehyun that night, flopping down onto his bed.

That was the last thing you remembered. 

You woke up in his bed. 

“Morning,” Jaehyun mused, coming out of the bathroom. He, unlike you, looked fresh and ready to have a good day. You gasped, kicking your legs up and throwing them to the side of the bed. “I changed you after last night. Those jeans looked uncomfortable.”

“What am I doing here?”

“You seemed to be intoxicated last night, if you don’t remember.”

You couldn't remember. Okay, you remembered trying one glass of punch. Then Steve. … Steve! Did you win the punch drinking competition with Steve? Then you went to the club… Memories of lights flashing in your eyes, your tongue intertwining with Jaehyun, and his hands around your body made you groan.

“Did we ?” You asked, massaging your head.

Jaehyun paused at how straightforward you were, the male shaking his head in response before he chuckled. “You don’t remember a single thing, do you?”

His eyes fell onto your body hidden by the extra clothes for women he always kept in his apartment. He never really liked woman wearing his shirts and then not returning it. He rubbed his hair with a towel.

“We came home ed up,” he began, eyeing you to see if you remembered anything. “Had a little bit too much to drink, you know? You ended up on top of me, so we played around, and I on your for a bit, but then I realized that you were too drunk. I didn’t even ask for a .”

You closed your eyes. If you were embarrassed, you had one hell of a poker face. You opened your eyes, looking slightly irritated but not embarassed on how you acted the night before. He wondered if you've ever done something like this. If you've ever ended up in almost one-night-stands.

Jaehyun felt a shift in him when he told you what happened the night before out loud. He would be lying if he said it wasn’t… hot. You had pushed him down onto the bed, rolled on top of him and ended up dry riding him with only his briefs and your underwear as a barrier between both of you.

He remembered thinking that he’d get to sleep with you. You seemed like you wanted it too, your shirt off, and your s bouncing in his face as he took your s between his lips to taste the little nubs. For some reason, he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t push himself to sleep with you. Maybe it was because you seemed a tad bit too drunk to give him consent, and it was something he realized when your eyes looked down on his misty and glazed.

So, he decided to change you out of your clothes and put you to sleep.

“This is why I don’t drink,” you said, casually cracking your neck. “I’m such a ty drunk. Imagine almost sleeping with you. Did you see me topless?”

“You had your shirt off. To be fair, you were only in your underwear,” he said honestly. You shrugged, standing up and grabbing your clothes to change out of the clothes Jaehyun had put you in. When you came out, there was a rustle, and something fell onto the bed.

A polaroid.

It was a picture taken at a masquerade party. You blinked, a hand extending to grab it. You were eleven then, you in your ballet shoes and white dress. Your face looked surprised, as if the flash from the camera caught you off-guard.

Beside you stood a young boy in a black and white suit. He had a loopy grin on his face.

“I met you at a party. It was a campaign party on New Year’s Eve.” Jaehyun ruffled his hair, and you looked up to see that he had removed his bathrobe and was shifting through his clothes. He looked to the right, his eyes catching you staring at him in the mirror. “We were the only kids there.”

Memories started building back, and you realized that you did meet him before.

“We were messing around.” He smiled into the mirrors, locking his eyes with yours. “We wanted to be like the adults. We switched our drinks for what they were having, giggling to ourselves without knowing the consequences of it.”

Then it hit you.

“We were running around the table when we had our photo taken. We moved to the hallways, because you wanted to slide down the staircase even if I said it was dangerous. We slipped off the staircase together, then we accidentally pecked each other on the lips,” you recollected. “I broke my leg.”

Jaehyun chuckled. “That day was hazy. It was both our first sip of alcohol. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve kissed you before.”

You silently stood up. He noted how stoic you were. He was surprised you weren’t throwing a scene at him bringing you back to his place. Maybe you weren't as pure as other people thought you were. You grabbed your bag, checking your belongings before heading towards the door.

“You owe me an apology,” Jaehyun voiced, your feet going to a stop. He watched as you turned around, Jaehyun not being able to read your expression. You seemed pissed about something. “Since I was right.”

“I wish I’ve never met you.”

You left his place, hailing a cab and directing it home.

In the cab, you glanced at the polaroid you brought. Your lips turned up into a smile noticing a small detail. It was your father holding your sister in the background. Then you looked back at past-self, your hands gripping the polaroid tightly.

Jung Jaehyun did not know.

But after that night, your father punished you repeatedly. Your feet never moved the same way and the aching pain in your calves and ankles were a reminder of what Jung Jaehyun had ripped away from you because of his ambition to “slide down the stairs”.

You had never danced again.

You were even more convinced that you hated him for being causing you to lose the ability of the one thing you’ve ever loved.

Back to the present

Back to the present and after telling Chittaphon to delegate your tasks to your mother so it would be easier for you, you were back to staring absentmindedly out the window.

You were back to thinking of the whereabouts of Lee Haechan, and what you could do to make him write more songs. Chittaphon knew that you were mourning, you just did not know how to deal with it.

After a long pause of silence, you got a thought.

“Have you tried Lee Haechan’s associates?” You asked, Chittaphon nodding.

“Mark Lee has not responded. Matthew Lee, the head of his agency turned down to tell me anything. He thinks that it’s a violation of Haechan’s privacy.” Chittaphon paused. “Which, it is. Park… Maybe…”

You knew what Chittaphon was about to say.

“Maybe Haechan has moved on.”

You didn’t want to hear it. You hated how it may be true.

“If you must know, Haechan visited Johnny Suh before he left South Korea. You remember the DJ that got into a twitter feud with Jung Jaehyun aka your-husband-to-be aka Jay the Model?” Chittaphon asked. You did not know who Johnny Suh was, but you had a gut feeling it might be a lead. Chittaphon opened up an article on his iPAD, the headlines of the front page almost popping out, “Jay the Model feud with Johnny Suh!”.

“How do we contact Johnny Suh?” You asked, sitting up abruptly.

“We don’t. Johnny Suh retired a year ago. The only DJ that the world keeps track of is now Lee Jeno. They were both in the same agency, but Johnny left since he got married. Even Matthew Lee is not disclosing his personal information.”

You had your eyes on the iPAD, scrolling down a few articles when you found yourself on a paparazzi site. You commended how Chittaphon worked, but somehow, he wasn’t as pushy and efficient as you’d like him to be.

A few articles of Johnny and Jay the Model (Jung Jaehyun and his persona was something you couldn’t wrap your head around) made you stand up.

“Where are you going?” Chittaphon asked, taken aback by your sudden movements, watching you pull on an expensive coat.

You had only one train of thought in mind.

That if Jung Jaehyun was seen partying with Johnny, he’d have Johnny’s contact number.

Once you get Johnny Suh’s contact number, you’d be able to ask him for Haechan’s whereabouts.

You’d send Haechan your sisters’ items, and he’d sing a song about her.

And when he does that, maybe you’d feel even half of a whole, but that’d be enough.

Healing is never a journey for the weak
I want you all around me (all the time)
Your dreams are the peace I seek
And I want to live them out (as if they’re mine)
 

You listened to Lee Haechan’s last song in the car.

You knew you were hyper fixated on things you wanted.

“What if he doesn’t want to write about your sister anymore?” Chittaphon asked before you left the office. When you didn’t respond, he sighed. “Park, sometimes it’s best to understand that the best way to heal is to stop chasing memories.”

Your eyes watered at the thought as you sat in the car, shifting your body so you were pressed closer to the window of the car.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

Jung Jaehyun was in bed, snoozing peacefully. He had a productive night before; drinking with a couple of friends, got a few numbers from women, did a little bit of work when he reached home, then fell asleep on the bed.

His door opened, and Jaehyun groaned. He was a light sleeper; the male cracked open an eye when he saw someone about to reach out and—

“Ma, don’t open up the curtains!” He grumbled, turning over. That did not stop his mother, the male already feeling the difference of the temperature of the room. He peeked from underneath the blanket.

His mother, his real mother, was limping around his room with her usual comfortable outfit. Jung Jaehyun sat up, the male watching as she tidied up his room without even giving him a thought. She, unlike the mother everyone thought he had, had wrinkles at the side of her eyes and smile lines. Her face was untouched by a needle, and she had the kindest face Jaehyun had ever set eyes upon.

“Early bird—”

“I’m human,” Jaehyun complained, falling back onto the bed before sitting up again, sniffling the air. “Did you cook?”

He loved his mother’s cooking. He was sure it was unmatched.

Jaehyun’s father was a senator who married a woman who couldn’t conceive. It was something that no one ever knew about, and his father’s plan was to keep the secret and make sure it died in the grave with him. His mother had been working for the Jung family for two decades when she gave birth to him. His real father was an alcoholic (Jaehyun was sure he got his alcoholism from his real father since Senator Jung did not really drink) who passed away when he was still in her womb.

Long story short, he was adopted by the Jung’s. His mother might have thought that it would give him a better quality of life. Under her care, she wouldn’t be able to afford an education. She gave him up to the Jung’s, continued to live under their roof to raise her son while the Jung’s put all their hopes on Jaehyun to continue the family legacy of going into politics.

He ed that up big time. Political Science was not for him, and Jaehyun couldn’t care less about corruption and status. He couldn’t care less about taking over South Korea, speaking to higher ups and striking deals with them, or even just talking to anyone who he wanted to take advantage of or vice versa.

“I did before this,” she replied, sitting on the bed. Jaehyun automatically scooted closer to snuggle against her.

“You know you don’t have to. You have your doctor’s appointment today.”

His mother had a heart problem. The Jung’s were paying for her, of course. That was the only reason why Jaehyun was letting them boss him around like a dog on a collar.

She smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, unlike the strong perfume of his Mrs. Jung that Jaehyun absolutely hated. He buried his face on the crook of her neck when she sighed.

“I saw the news, Yoonoh,” she murmured, calling him by the real name that she named him with. “You’re getting married in two weeks.”

Jaehyun grunted, his mother pushing him away and looking at him with such sadness in her eyes.

“Son, you do not even know this girl.” His mother was a traditional head. All she wanted for Jaehyun was for him to end up with someone he loved. Have kids. Live the simple life of a family. “Why would you marry her?”

“You know why,” he whispered, his mother shaking her head. “You know it’s not what I want to do.”

“Marriage is sacred, Yoonoh. It’s not to be played with. You’ll be exchanging vows; promising to love each other and protect each other.”

“Ma, vows are just words.”

“Yoonoh…” She took a breath. “When you and your father…”

“Ma, you loved him. This is just… a transaction. We’ll get divorced after six months.” He waved a hand. “Or maybe a year, really depending. Don’t worry your pretty head, Ms. Mirae.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t you trust your son?”

His mother smiled, raising her hand that had her old wedding ring on it. “Mrs. Mirae,” she corrected. “I’m still married to your father. Have always been, forever will be.”

Jaehyun smiled, kissing her hand gently. “Mrs. Mirae,” he repeated.

The doorbell sounded from the front of his apartment, Jaehyun grabbing a bathrobe and wrapping it around his body before peering through the cathole.

“Who is it?” His mother asked nervously. She always felt like her heart would jump out of her chest every time one for of Jung’s would visit, but Jaehyun smirked when he saw who it was.

“My wife-to-be.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You had a tough time getting Jung Jaehyun’s room number from the front desk on your own. It was by luck that you noticed a young girl sitting on a couch with big shades and a newspaper. The newspaper was upside down.

You knew what she was doing, and you approached her. She did not recognize you. Lying through your teeth and telling her that you were also a fan of Jung Jaehyun, you asked if she knew his room number. Upon getting the room number, it was easy after that.

All you had to do was call the Head of Security and tell him that you were there to see your fiancé. Your face and his was plastered all-over front-page news, and he had no choice but to give you a spare card.

That was how you ended up standing in front of Jung Jaehyun in his dark blue bathrobe.

“Park,” he greeted, allowing you to walk in.

“Jay the Model.”

He made a face. “Not anymore. If you read the tabloids about me, I was emancipated and curr—”

“I don’t.” You turned to be, going to the point. “I need Johnny Suh’s number. Or residence.”

Jaehyun raised is eyebrow, surprised at your demand. He masked it with a playful scoff. “My wife already trying to find someone else? Darling, our wedding is in two weeks.”

Your eyes darted back and forth, and it had dawned to you that you’d not get Johnny Suh’s contact easily.

“Johnny is married,” Jaehyun told you. He was trying to figure out what was going on. You had nothing to do with his best friend. Your status was different. Johnny lived only in the States despite being born Korean. What was going on?

“I don’t care that he’s married.”

“Not a good look for you to say that, Park. Be thankful there are no reporters around.”

You took a deep breath, Jaehyun crossing his arms across his chest. “Did he borrow money?”

“No.”

“Uh…” Jaehyun tapped his foot on the ground repeatedly. “Are you suing him for something?”

“No.”

“Is it a life-or-death situation?”

You paused. You were tempted to say ‘for me’, but you hated how it would just make Jaehyun more curious. How do you explain that you’re so heart broken over the loss of your sister that you need music written by her ex-lover to survive so you feel like you’re not alone?

No one would ever understand. He had never lost anything before.

“No,” you finally said.

“Well then, I can’t help you, wifey.” Jaehyun clicked his tongue, and you gritted your teeth. You didn’t know what else to say so you tried again.

“How about Lee Haechan? I need to know where he is. I need to know how to contact him.” You told him, Jaehyun frowning at you. Another man, he thought. Were you being tangled in a romantic soap opera plot? Were you trying to clean up before you were going to get married to him?

“The singer of Watermelon on a Sunny Day?” He asked. That was even more bizarre than Johnny Suh.

You knew you’d get nothing from him so you decided to leave when he said something that made your head turn.

“I do know where Lee Haechan is, yes.”

You whipped your head around; Jaehyun wondering why you said such a strong emotional response to what he said.

“Tell me where he is,” you demanded.

Jaehyun smirked. “Now, why would I ever do that?”

Your hands turned into fists, and like every other thought that crossed your mind about Jaehyun—it was the one thought that stood out each time.

You were having one of those nights where you’d wake up in the middle of the night gasping for breath, your heart constricting and your eyes blurred with tears, and all you wanted to do was scream.

Scream.

Scream.

Scream.

“Park,” a hand pushed against your arm, and you shot up, your face stained with tears as you pounded your fists against your chest. “Park!”

Chittaphon was worried, your secretary and friend watched as you buried your face in your hands. Your hands were trembling, and you were struggling to bring your breathing to a normal pace. The lump in your throat slowly disappeared, and Chittaphon placed a hand on your shoulder.

“This is not normal.”

“No one misses her like I do,” you managed to say, looking up at him. “Haechan used to miss her just like I do, but now he no longer misses her, and I don’t know what to do.”

Chittaphon spent that night watching as you had another one of your mental break downs, lying in bed and sobbing over the loss of your sister. It had occurred to him even more how important Haechan’s songs were to you, but it was an obsession that was not healthy for you.

The next morning, you had to take wedding pre-wedding photos with Jung Jaehyun and you dreaded it. You kept it in, however, and you as you patted concealer under your eyes, Chittaphon asked whether you were alright.

“All good. Is Jung Jaehyun going to be there? Are you sure there is nothing we can do to use to blackmail him into telling me where Haechan is?” You asked, Chittaphon telling you for nth time that the obsession was becoming concerning.

You ignored him, just as you normally did and went straight for the wedding studio.

Jung Jaehyun saw you march into the studio with a newfound fire in your eyes. He smirked, leaning back in the newly worn suit just as you gave him a smile back.

“You look tired,” he stated, and you gave a hum as the people began to give you wedding dresses that may suit you.

“I have a business, unlike you, whose wasting his life with pretty girls in bars,” you quipped back, Jaehyun throwing his head back and laughing.

“At least they’re pretty and look like they have time to sleep,” he answered, a woman bowing to you and asking you if you wanted to try any dress. You shook your head, waving a hand to her so she could leave the room, leaving both of you together. “Let’s just choose a dress and get this over with, it’s not like a divorce is coming after six months. We only need this for the stock prices and the upcoming directors meeting.”

You hummed, every thought running through your mind as you laid down a mental plan. Would he fall for it? Would he ever tell you what you needed to know? The Jaehyun you know is a manwhore.

“Weddings are supposed to be special, Jung,” you said, your voice airy as you stood in front of the mirror, placing the wedding dress over your body to check out how it’d look. “And you’re forced to enjoy it with me.”

With that, you began to strip right in front of him.

You ed your shirt, seeing as a look of confusion flashed through Jung Jaehyun’s eyes. If there was lust brewing in him, he made sure it wasn’t obvious. You removed your shirt, feeling the lack of fabric on your skin before you allowed it to fall onto the ground. You saw him staring at you through the mirror.

He did not say anything, so you pushed further. Your hand zipped down your tiny A-skirt, and you stepped out of it.

Jaehyun knew you had an extreme character—but you were always a private person. The first time he saw you was by a drunken accident. This… This caught him by surprise. He swallowed, this throat suddenly feeling dry as he noticed the lace that hugged your hips.

But if this was a game, he felt like looking away was going to make him lose.

What made it hard to concentrate was the way you had gathered your hair to the side, your fingers brushing down your long and slim neck making him feel things where he knew he shouldn’t. He was still a man, Jaehyun tried to justify to himself. It didn’t matter who it was, but if they were right in front of him the same way you were, he’d cave.

He was holding back because it was you.

He shifted, crossing his hands across his chest, trying to look unbothered.

But you knew he was. Oh, of course, he was. He had a massive bulge growing right there between his legs, and you knew for a fact that this would torture him in ways he wouldn’t be able to understand. You were going to make sure he’d feel a thirst he wouldn’t be able to quench.

“Do you think my s should be bigger for the dress?” You asked ever so casually, a hand going to push up the thin bra as if weighing the two mounds. “People are going to photograph me on our wedding, no? Can’t look flat for all of South Korea to see, can I?”

He did not respond, and when you eyed him through the mirror you noticed how red his face become. You grabbed your s, squeezing it just to hear how his breath hitched up in his throat. You smirked, letting go of it before pretending to not notice anything.

You bent down, grabbing the dress before once again placing it right there on your body to see if it would fit. You felt the front of the dress, making a face at how hard front of the corset-shaped top felt underneath your fingertips.

“No, I think I should go braless,” you said more to yourself than him, a hand going to unclasp the back of your white bra to expose yourself to him. There was a sound, and just as the straps of the bra slid down your shoulders, you felt a hand grab yours to turn you around aggressively.

Jung Jaehyun was a little bit too late. Your bra fell onto the ground. Your bare s pressed against his chest was not an image he would be able to get rid of, and he’d find himself getting off on it for the months to come.

“What do think you’re doing?” He demanded, trying not to look down.

“What do you mean?” You asked him innocently, arching your body towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Asking you for opinions for an event that involves both of us?”

“Park,” he snapped, and you tried to pull away, but he refused to let you go, not wanting to see anything more of what you wanted to show him. “What are you trying to do?”

“I am showing my husband-to-be what he deserves to see,” you said to him, giving him a fake innocent gaze.

You were bold by nature, always doing what you had to do to get what you wanted. If lust was something that Jung Jaehyun weak against, you’d use it to your advantage. You knew it was working, your free hand reaching down ever so gently to trace the bulge hidden underneath his expensive wedding suit.

He tensed up, Jaehyun narrowing his eyes at you before his hand relaxed and he brought it down to your lace-covered . He gripped it tightly, dragging your body tight against his before he brought his lips down to your ears.

“If this is about where Lee Haechan is,” he began. “You’re going to have to try harder than this.”

Jung Jaehyun was practically hyperventilating when he left the wedding studio, the male getting into his car as the images of you filled his head. He tugged on the collar of his suit, trying to ease the tightness. After a couple of sips of water, he had parked the car under a bridge to give it some time.

His phone rang, the male answering it to hear that it was the PI that he had hired.

Huang Renjun was the same PI that Haechan had hired to find his father when he first came back to Korea, and Jaehyun was very lucky to have gotten his contact for “in case I ever need it” situations.

This was one of those.

“Did you find out what President Park is trying to find?” He asked impatiently. “Is she involved in Lee Haechan in a way? I know Haechan is in Switzerland. Johnny told me. But I have no idea why President Park needs to find him.”

“Look, I told you what I know. Lee Haechan was dating President Park’s sister before she passed. I have nothing other than that.”

“Do you think Lee Haechan is blackmailing her about her sister?” Jaehyun pushed, but Renjun sighed.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. What is there to blackmail about President Park? From what I know, she pays her taxes and just works on her company. Not like she has a tape somewhere.”

His mind flashed back to your body, your s, how your lips parted when he grabbed you —

“And Lee Haechan doesn’t seem like a person who’d blackmail anyone.” Jaehyun leaned back in his car seat, frustrated.

ually frustrated.

But that would end soon enough, because Jung Jaehyun was a man with many women in line.

So while you were wondering how to drive him further into the chaos so he’d cave, he was in bed with another try to the images of you out of his head.

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A/N, I hope you enjoyed. Don't forget to comment and subscribe and upvote! See you next chapter.