It's been weeks.

Weeks since the night everything finally cracked open between us - the kisses, the whispered words, the truth we could no longer ignore.

Weeks since I spilled my heart into his hands and he didn't throw it away.

And still...

He hasn't asked me to be his boyfriend.

Not officially. Not out loud.

Not the way I've been aching for.

So yeah, I was sulking. Hard.

I sat curled up on the ridiculously expensive couch in Johan's sleek penthouse - the one above the track, with those floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. The late afternoon sun slanted through the glass, casting gold across the concrete floors and the still silence between us.

I'd been there for hours. I always was, these days.

But right now, I was a quiet storm of frustration, hidden behind crossed arms and a pout so deep my face might freeze like this.

Behind me, I heard the faint clink of a coffee mug being set down.

"Little brat," Johan called from the kitchen, his voice low and faintly amused.

I didn't reply.

I didn't even look his way.

He was impossible. Stone-hearted. Mysterious. That same infuriatingly unreadable bastard who made me feel like the center of the universe one night, only to go back to being all calm and cool and Johan-like the next.

But I didn't want calm. I didn't want mystery.

I wanted words.

I wanted us - defined, claimed, real.

"...North?" he said again, this time closer.

I heard his footsteps cross the floor slowly. He was probably trying to read my mood, like I was some kind of puzzle he hadn't solved yet.

I stayed quiet, sinking further into the cushions like they could protect me from the heavy ache in my chest.

A sigh left him.

Then his weight shifted the couch slightly as he crouched in front of me, his hand bracing near my knee.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, voice softer now, cautious.

I sniffed and tightened my arms around myself.

His brows furrowed slightly. "Talk to me."

I didn't. Couldn't.

Because if I opened my mouth, the tears sitting stupidly behind my eyes might actually fall.

"North," he said again, this time firmer.

Slowly, I turned my face toward him.

His gaze caught mine - steady, concerned, maybe even a little guilty.

"What am I to you?" I whispered, the words tasting like vulnerability and desperation. "Am I just... something temporary to you?"

His eyes widened slightly, then his expression shifted - softened.

"Ah..." he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I get it now."

"No, you don't," I muttered, voice shaking as I turned my face away.

He stood then, without another word - and before I could even blink, he sat beside me, slipped an arm around my waist, and pulled me into his lap.

My breath caught as I tumbled gently into him, straddling him instinctively as his arms wrapped around me - firm, warm, grounding.

"Phi-" I started to protest, but his hand came up, fingers tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"You're mine," he said simply, voice low and raw. "You've been mine since the moment you ruined my peace, North."

My heart did a full-body somersault.

But he wasn't finished.

"I wanted to do this right," he continued, his eyes scanning every inch of my face like he was memorizing me. "This is my first time being serious about someone. I didn't want to just blurt it out when I wasn't sure how to say it."

I swallowed hard, tears pushing against the backs of my eyes again.

"I thought I had time," he said, almost more to himself than to me. "But I've made you wait too long, haven't I?"

I couldn't speak. Could only nod once.

He reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together.

His thumb brushed over mine.

"Little brat," he murmured, voice quiet now - intimate. "Will you be my boyfriend?"

That was it.

I broke.

Emotion came pouring out of me like a flood I'd held back too long.

A soft sob slipped past my lips, followed by another. I buried my face into the crook of his neck as tears soaked his shirt. My fingers clenched tightly at his back, gripping him like he might disappear if I let go.

His arms tightened around me, one hand smoothing circles along my spine, the other cradling the back of my head.

He didn't rush me.

He just held me through it.

Through the tears, the relief, the overwhelming warmth in my chest.

I nodded frantically against him, my voice muffled in his skin.

"Yes," I whispered. "Yes, Phi. I want to be yours. I've always wanted to."

He leaned back enough to look at me, cupping both of my cheeks like I was something precious.

"You already were," he said, brushing his thumbs under my eyes to catch the tears. "But now it's official."

I blinked up at him, cheeks burning.

Then he leaned in and kissed me.

Soft, slow, reverent.

He kissed me like a promise.

Like I was safe.

Wanted.

His lips parted mine slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to make my heart skip.

"Mmhh.." A soft, broken noise escaped from me, and he swallowed it whole, one hand sliding up into my hair, the other pressing firmly against the small of my back.

By the time he pulled away, I was breathless, blinking at him in stunned silence.

He pressed his forehead against mine, both of us panting softly, our noses brushing.

"I'm sorry I made you wait," he whispered. "But I'm yours now. No more doubt. No more in-between."

"I'm yours too," I whispered back.

He smiled.

A real one - rare and quiet and only for me.

✿✿✿

We stayed like this for a while before he murmured "Feeling better now?" and pressed a soft kiss to my temple.

I nodded slowly, but my brain was spinning.

Not with sadness now - with adrenaline. With something warmer, deeper, needier.

And then something inside me shifted.

A slow, playful grin crept onto my face.

Johan blinked at the change, tilting his head slightly. "What's that look?"

I didn't answer.

Instead, I sat up suddenly, making him lean back instinctively.

Then-without hesitation-I pushed him back into the couch with both hands flat on his chest.

His body hit the cushions with a soft thud.

"What the-?" Johan stared at me, startled, brows furrowing like he was trying to process the whiplash.

I climbed onto him, slowly, deliberately, straddling him again - but this time with a glint in my eye.

Now it was my turn to tilt my head.

"You said I'm yours, right?" I asked sweetly.

"...Yes?" he answered slowly, warily, like he wasn't sure if I was about to kiss him or murder him.

I leaned down until my nose was barely brushing his. "Phi..."

My hands slid under the edge of his shirt, fingers skating across the warm skin of his abs - the sharp lines and tension making me smirk.

He inhaled sharply.

And then I kissed him.

Harder this time.

Less trembling, more sure.

His breath hitched as my lips met his, my fingers dancing along the ridges of his stomach as I pressed closer. He froze for just a second - like his brain short-circuited - before groaning low in his throat and kissing me back.

His hands gripped my thighs instinctively, grounding himself.

I smiled into the kiss, biting his bottom lip gently before deepening it, my tongue slipping past his in a bold, slow glide. The air between us thickened, the kiss growing hotter, deeper - a silent conversation of want and belonging.

He pulled away for a second, blinking at me.

"North," he said, his voice rough and barely holding onto restraint, "what are you doing?"

"Showing you," I whispered against his jaw, "that I'm yours."

My lips traveled down to his neck, kissing along the line of his throat, feeling the way his pulse thudded wildly under my mouth. He let out a ragged breath, his hands still resting on my waist - not pulling me away, just holding on.

I kissed the spot just beneath his ear, smiling as I felt him shiver.

Then I slowly came back up, brushing my lips against his again - this time tender, claiming.

Johan looked stunned. Quiet. Eyes searching mine.

"Damn," he muttered. His eyes clearly getting darker by the growing second.

I tilted my head innocently. "Hmm?"

Teasing him was fun. I grinned.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"You better pray to gods." he said suddenly picking me up. I gasped startled as he led us to the bedroom.