Chapter 6: Only Mine, Ours Forever
Sherri's apartment was tiny — barely enough room for a bed, a small kitchenette, and a worn couch shoved against the wall. The late evening air inside was humid with tension, the single oscillating fan doing little to stir the heat that clung to every surface like a second skin.
Her heart had barely calmed since the message she’d sent—“Come to the apartment. Please.”
But she hadn’t expected this much rage in YoungBok’s footsteps.
The door suddenly burst open.
Sherri flinched, nearly knocking over the cup of tea, she had made, her fingers trembling around the handle. She looked up- right as YoungBok stormed into her apartment. The air instantly thickened with the heat and anger.
"Where the hell is he?" YoungBok hissed.
Sherri opened her mouth but didn’t get the chance to speak.
The bathroom door creaked open.
Hyunjin stepped out, towel slung over his shoulders, hair still damp, chest bare. He froze the moment he saw YoungBok—who looked like a damn earthquake had just passed through him.
“You came here?” YoungBok growled, fists clenched at his sides. “Did you seriously come here—to her apartment—after that?”
YoungBok’s voice was rising, barely contained.“You said you needed space, Hyunjin! Not her bed”.
Hyunjin took a step forward, brow furrowed. “I didn't”— Hyunjin started, but YoungBok was already closing the distance between them in two long strides.
Sherri stepped forward, “I asked him to stay.”
YoungBok eyes darted to her, wide with disbelief.
“You what?”
“I was scared you two would break each other completely. I didn’t know what else to do.”
YoungBok let out a cold, humorless laugh. So your solution was to let him sleep here? In your bed?”
“Oh, spare me the explanation!” He snapped, chest to chest with Hyunjin. “You left me hanging, said you needed time to think, and the next thing I know, you’re playing house in her apartment?”
“It’s not what you think,” Hyunjin said, eyes flicking toward Sherri, his voice low and tired but firm.
YoungBok roared a bitter laugh. “Oh no? You didn’t spend the night in her bed?”
Hyunjin's mouth parted slightly, but no words came. There were so many things he could say — should say — but none of them could undo that kiss, that moment, that blur of emotion and hunger and guilt.
“You kissed her.” YoungBok’s voice cracked as he stood in front of him now, chest heaving. “You told me you loved me, and you kissed her.”
“It wasn’t like that—”
“Then what was it, Hyunjin?” YoungBok’s voice rose, sharp and cutting. “Because to me, it felt like betrayal. Like maybe I was just the side story in this triangle.”
“That’s not true.” Hyunjin’s tone darkened, pain cracking through it. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. You know that, damn it.”
“Then prove it!” YoungBok shoved his chest, hard. “Tell me you haven’t thought about her, that your heart doesn’t get pulled in both directions. Tell me that kiss meant nothing!”
Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer — because the truth was messy, and standing here with the boy he loved, aching and furious, everything inside him screamed at once.
YoungBok turned away, pacing the small space like a lion in a cage. “You don’t get to love us both,” he muttered. “You don’t get to tear me apart like this. I gave you everything, Hyunjin. My love, my trust. I put myself in this damn situation because I thought we could survive it. But now—”
“I can’t live without you,” Hyunjin interrupted, voice low and shaking. “Don’t you get it? You are my everything, Bok-ah.”
YoungBok stopped. His eyes locked onto Hyunjin’s, fierce and fractured.
“Then act like it.”
Silence. The kind that burns in your lungs.
Then, in an instant, they collided.
Mouths crashing together — not in sweetness, but in hunger and desperation. Hands gripping fabric, pulling, yanking. Hyunjin pushed YoungBok back until his spine hit the wall, kissing him like the world was crumbling. YoungBok moaned into the kiss, fingers clawing at Hyunjin’s shirt, dragging it up and over his head.
“You’re mine,” he whispered against his lips. “Only mine. Don’t even think about anyone else.”
“I’m yours,” Hyunjin gasped, kissing down his jaw, trailing his mouth along the line of his throat. “Only yours. I swear.”
Sherri turned away, her chest tight.
She didn’t belong in that moment.
And she knew it.
Without a word, she slipped on her hoodie, grabbed her keys, and left them in the apartment — the only room, their bodies pressed against the wall, tangled in emotion too big for the space they shared.
---
When she returned an hour later, the room was quiet.
The bed — her bed — was occupied by two sleeping figures, tangled together under the covers. Their breathing was slow, deep, arms wrapped around each other like gravity had finally done its job. Shirts tossed on the floor. Lips swollen. Eyes closed.
She set the bags down gently, then walked over and pulled the blanket higher over their bare shoulders. With tender fingers, she brushed back strands of hair — first Hyunjin’s, then YoungBok’s — soft and lingering.
A ghost of a smile touched her lips.
She didn’t disturb them.
Instead, she curled up quietly on the worn couch, using her sweater as a pillow, and tried not to cry.
---
Morning light streamed in.
The apartment was bathed in soft gold. Hyunjin stirred first, blinking groggily, then immediately looked down to see YoungBok sleeping peacefully against his chest. Their legs were still entwined.
Hyunjin’s heart clenched.
YoungBok woke moments later, squinting at the light — then at Hyunjin — and immediately flushed red.
They sat up slowly, their bodies bare under the blanket, the weight of last night settling over them like a second skin.
Then they both froze.
Because Sherri was sitting cross-legged on the couch, quietly sipping tea.
Her eyes lifted.
“Morning,” she said gently, a small smile forming. “There’s breakfast. I made eggs.”
They scrambled to pull the blanket tighter, awkward tension settling in.
“I... I’m sorry,” Sherri said quietly. “For the kiss that night.”
YoungBok looked up, still holding the blanket to his chest, unsure of what to say.
Sherri stood, placing the tea down.
“I saw it last night,” she said, voice trembling but sincere. “How much you love each other. It's more than passion. It’s deep. Real. And I love seeing it.”
They looked at her in disbelief.
“I love you both,” she continued. “But seeing you together — it doesn’t hurt. Not the way I thought it would. It’s beautiful. And I think... maybe, I was meant to be part of your story, not the center of it.”
YoungBok’s throat tightened. “Sherri...”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just... have breakfast.”
Hyunjin nodded, eyes glassy. “Thank you. For everything.”
---
Later that day — the studio.
The practice room was dimly lit, soft music echoing like a heartbeat. Sherri sat curled in the corner, watching the mirrors reflect not just movement, but emotion — raw and real.
Hyunjin and YoungBok entered together.
Something about them had changed. Grounded. Certain. The chaos had settled into something quieter.
They didn’t say anything to her — they didn’t need to.
The music shifted tempo.
Hyunjin and YoungBok moved in sync, their choreography seamless — not just polished, but alive. Every spin and slide was charged with something deeper. At one point, Hyunjin caught YoungBok by the waist when he faltered.
Their eyes met and held — just for a moment — and Sherri saw it.
That connection.
The love.
The promise.
The other members slowly trickled in, stretching, chatting, sensing the energy but not commenting.
When the song ended, Hyunjin turned toward the mirror, breathing hard.
YoungBok stood behind him and rested a hand on his back.
And Sherri?
She smiled.
Because in that moment — watching them, loving them — she wasn’t on the outside anymore. She was a part of it.
Of them.
And maybe, just maybe...That was enough.
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