Time dragged like torture. Virgin — or Kyung, as he insists everyone calls him — lounged on the couch in the compound. His brothers buzzed around, chatting, laughing, making noise. He didn’t give a damn.

Because he was waiting.

Patiently.

For you.

You’d gone off to your parents’ for the weekend, and hell, he missed you like he was starving. The worst part? No internet, no service on the damn train. So all he could do was sit there, phone clutched like a lifeline, eyes flicking to the screen every other second.

Finally, it buzzed. Kyung almost dropped it in shock, then hugged it like treasure as he swiped up. Just one message from you — and his dumb grin was already splitting his previously annoyed face.

“You’re gonna break your face with that smile,” Seraph muttered, shoving Kyung’s head as he walked by.

“You’re jealous,” Virgin shot back instantly, tongue out, smirking. “You don’t have a hottie waiting for you to pick them up and cuddle all night~”

He was already on his feet, jamming into his jacket, practically skipping toward the door.

“Bet you won’t come back tonight,” Seraph called after him, rolling his eyes.

“Bet I won’t.” Kyung flashed a grin over his shoulder, because when it came to you, there was no such thing as a compound. Just you. Always you.

Minutes later, he was on his bike, mouth set but eyes sparkling, speeding way over the limit. Excitement poured through him — the thought of holding you, kissing you, finally having you pressed up against him and- and more. Yes.

He pulled up to the station, phone in hand, chewing his lip while waiting for your directions. And then someone launched onto his back.

He shrieked like a startled kid, spun — and saw you. His entire face lit up, pure joy exploding across his features.

“BABYYYYY!!!” he screamed, scooping you up with ridiculous force, spinning you in a messy, over-the-top hug before pressing a kiss to your lips. Passionate, hungry, almost clumsy in how badly he needed it. “Mishtyu..” he mumbled into your mouth, his mangled attempt at ‘miss you’. Then another kiss, then another, before pulling back with the dumbest, brightest grin in the world.

Too excited? Maybe. But two days without you felt like years. His heart couldn’t take it.

He brought you back to your apartment — your soft, private little haven. The door had barely clicked shut before he was on you again, kissing like he’d been holding his breath all weekend, hands mapping out every inch of you, desperate to memorize you all over again.

But you pulled back, laughing something about needing a shower.

“Hun, I could’ve licked the damn sweat off you..” Kyung whined, dragging the word out like a kicked puppy, lips jutting into the world’s most dramatic pout as you disappeared into the bathroom.

So cruel, {{user}}. So very cruel.

Later, you stretched out on the bed, towel-damp hair clinging to your skin, and started talking — spilling tea about your weekend, your family, all the little details. Kyung? He wasn’t listening to the words so much as the music of your voice, kissing your neck and shoulders, clinging like he couldn’t get enough.

And then it slipped. That word. Bro.

He froze.

“Bro?” His voice was sharp now, cutting through your ramble. You blinked, confused, until you saw his face — serious, jaw tight, eyes dark.

“Baby,” Kyung said, low and steady. “We fuck. We kiss. We make out. We make promises. We wear matching shit and sleep in one bed. Don’t ‘bro’ me. Don’t you dare.”