I was still curled up on his lap, sniffling quietly, my face buried in the crook of his shoulder. His arms remained around me, firm but gentle, like he wasn’t quite used to holding someone like this, but he was trying.

"You really are clingy," Johan muttered, voice low and even, the barest hint of amusement curling at the edges. But there was no real annoyance behind it—only something softer, something almost fond.

His hand rose slowly, fingers threading through my hair. Not roughly. Not dismissively. Just… there. Comforting. Slow.

Then he added, “With the amount of tears you're shedding, you'd think it happened to you and not me.”

I pulled back slightly, still nestled in his lap, blinking up at him with a faint pout on my face. My eyes were probably puffy. My cheeks felt hot. And judging by the smirk forming on his lips, he found all of that entirely too amusing.

Without missing a beat, he flicked my forehead.

“Ow!” I protested, rubbing the spot with a dramatic frown. “Phi, you keep doing that—it hurts, you know.”

He tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable at first. Then his lips twitched.

“Mm,” he said, and leaned in, lowering his voice to a near-whisper against my ear. “You know what else will hurt—?”

My eyes widened.

My face flushed bright red in an instant, the heat crawling from my neck to my cheeks like wildfire.

“Phi!!” I yelped, slapping his shoulder in embarrassment.

He leaned back, absolutely unbothered, chuckling under his breath like the walking menace he was.

Still an asshole.

I huffed, turning my head away to hide the color still burning my face. But I didn’t move from his lap—and he didn’t let go. His hand was still resting casually on my waist, like it belonged there. Like I belonged there.

The silence stretched for a few seconds, not uncomfortable this time—just quiet.

Then, unexpectedly, Johan shifted slightly and asked, “Now tell me about your family.”

I blinked.

The question caught me off guard.

“Umm…” I began hesitantly, voice dropping to a hum. “Mine’s… I don’t know. Kind of weird, I guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, silent encouragement.

I took a breath and continued. “My dad definitely loves me more than Mom does. Not in a bad way—it’s just… he spoils me a bit. Always has. Mom, on the other hand, thinks I’m ‘too sensitive.’ Calls me dramatic whenever I cry during sad commercials or when I overthink things.”

Johan gave a small, knowing grunt—like he wasn’t surprised at all by that information.

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, yes, I know I’m dramatic.”

“Very,” he muttered under his breath, smirking.

I narrowed my eyes at him but decided to let it slide.

“I’m an only child too,” I added more quietly. “No siblings to share the heat with, so I guess I got all the attention—good and bad.”

He didn’t interrupt, just kept listening, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small, slow circles against my side.

“And…” I hesitated. “I, um… told my mom about you.”

That made him pause.

Slowly, Johan turned his head to look at me directly, his dark eyes narrowing just a little. Not in alarm—more like curiosity with a side of suspicion.

“You what?” he asked, voice unreadable.

I bit my bottom lip, suddenly feeling very small. “Just… mentioned you. Casually.”

His left eyebrow arched. “Casually?”

“Well…” I fidgeted. “Maybe more than casually.”

“North.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I might’ve said that I was seeing someone. And that he was… you know. Smart. Athletic. A little scary. But also kind of amazing in a brooding ‘please don't touch me but secretly I like it’ kind of way.”

There was a pause.

“You said what now?”

I peeked through my fingers and found Johan staring at me, completely deadpan.

“You’re being dramatic again,” he said finally.

“You’re proving her point!” I cried.

He rolled his eyes and gave my side a very light, playful squeeze that made me squirm and yelp in surprise.

“But seriously,” I said after a beat, looking at him more carefully. “I told her you’re… someone important to me.”

This time, the silence that followed wasn’t teasing or playful.

It was heavier.

Johan’s gaze softened, just slightly. He didn’t respond right away, but I saw the way his hand at my waist tensed—like the words struck something deeper than either of us expected.

“Is that okay?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t speak at first.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “It’s okay.”

And just like that, something shifted in the room.

Something unspoken.

Like a door that had been ajar for a long time finally opening just a little wider.

After a pause, he added, almost too softly for me to hear, “I’ve never really… had someone who introduced me like that before.”

I swallowed hard. My arms wrapped a little tighter around him.

“I guess,” I said softly, resting my chin on his shoulder again, “now you do.”

He let out a long breath—and this time, instead of flicking my forehead or teasing me, Johan leaned in and rested his forehead against mine. His eyes fluttered closed. His hand slid gently into my hair again.

We didn’t say anything else.

We didn’t need to.

Because in that moment, pressed together in a small office with golden light warming the air around us, everything that mattered had already been said.

And for once… I didn’t feel like I was too much.

And Johan—he didn’t feel like he had to be less.

Suddenly, Johan’s phone buzzed on the desk behind us, vibrating against the wood. The moment shattered like glass underfoot. He sighed and reached for it without moving me off his lap.

Out of reflex, I peeked at the caller ID.

“Elli.”

I stilled.

Johan caught the brief flicker of emotion on my face. His brows raised slightly, questioning. But I didn’t say anything.

He hesitated—just for a second—then accepted the call.

And that’s when I heard her voice.

“Um… Jo, I miss you,” came the high, flirty purr from the other end. “Wanna have sex tonight?”

I froze.

Every muscle in my body went stiff. My heart twisted in my chest. I could feel the blood draining from my face, replaced with something cold and bitter.

Hurt.

Jealousy.

Like poison flooding my stomach.

Without a word, I started to shift off his lap, trying to slide away, to reclaim even a shred of dignity.

But Johan’s arm around my waist tightened.

“No,” he said into the phone—sharp, clipped, with no room for argument. Then he hung up without another word.

I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him. My body was rigid, turned partially away, my jaw clenched. Embarrassment burned beneath my skin like wildfire.

He let out a soft, amused sigh behind me.

“Little brat,” he said.

I refused to respond.

“Shorty.”

Still nothing.

Then he used that voice—low, quiet, edged with warning.

“North.”

I bit my bottom lip hard enough to sting.

Then his fingers were under my chin, coaxing, guiding—firm but careful. He turned my face toward him, but my eyes stubbornly refused to meet his.

He didn’t let me look away.

“You’re jealous,” he said, deadpan.

I said nothing.

Yeah, Godzilla—I’m jealous. But I wasn’t about to admit that out loud.

His thumb brushed across my jaw. “They were just flings. Meaningless. I don’t do that anymore—not since I realized I like you.”

That made me finally glance up, just a flicker.

His gaze was serious now. No smirk. No teasing. Just truth.

“Stop being sulky,” he added gently, his tone shifting into something softer—playful, but warm.

I still didn’t say anything.

Then, without warning, he let out a low sound and stood, scooping me up effortlessly in his arms. I let out a surprised yelp as he walked the few steps to the desk and set me down on the cool surface like I weighed nothing at all.

“Phi—!” I started, eyes wide.

But he was already leaning in.

His hands framed my face as he tilted my chin up again—this time not to talk, but to kiss.

His lips pressed against mine, firm and slow. There was no rush in it—just warmth, intensity, and the weight of everything left unspoken between us.

My breath hitched in my throat. The kiss deepened as his fingers slipped into my hair, pulling me just slightly closer. His lips moved against mine like he knew them—like he’d been waiting to claim them fully. I melted into it despite myself, hands gripping the edge of the desk.

And then, as if pulled by instinct, I felt myself leaning back. He followed, never breaking the kiss, until my elbows gave way and I was lying flat on the desk beneath him.

The world tilted—spun—and all I could feel was the press of his body above mine, the warmth of his chest, the heat of his mouth.

Johan’s hand slid down from my jaw to my waist, anchoring me in place. Then, breaking the kiss only for a moment, he moved to my neck.

He kissed the sensitive skin beneath my jaw, slow and deliberate, the brush of his lips sending sparks racing down my spine.

"Umm...", I gasped—softly, involuntarily.

His teeth grazed lightly over my pulse before his lips soothed the sting.

“Your face is all red again,” he murmured against my skin, amusement woven into his voice.

“Shut up,” I whispered breathlessly.

He chuckled darkly. Then, as if to silence me, he returned to my lips—this time with more urgency. The kiss was deeper now, more possessive, filled with a heat that made my head spin.

He tasted like mint and something uniquely him—a flavor I knew I’d never get tired of.

When he finally pulled back, our foreheads rested against each other, both of us breathless.

His thumb brushed over my lower lip, swollen and sore from his kisses.

“I like you like this,” he whispered, eyes dark and focused only on me. “All flustered. Quiet for once.”

“Shut up,” I repeated, though my voice came out more like a whimper than a warning.

He grinned, leaning down to place one last soft kiss on my lips—gentler this time, almost reverent.

And for that moment, lying on his desk with his hands on my waist and his lips tracing the lines of my skin, the jealousy faded.

There was only him.

Only us.