The spiral left Jisoo hollow.
For days, he moved through life like a shadow—meetings blurred, phone calls forgotten, meals untouched. He poured everything into holding his mask together, but inside, he was crumbling. His suppressants no longer held. His scent leaked sweet and thick, impossible to hide. His body betrayed him with every trembling breath.
And Minjae was always there.
Silent when Jisoo glared at him. Steady when Jisoo snapped. Watching, waiting, as if he knew exactly how this story would end.
It began with a storm.
Rain hammered against the penthouse windows, lightning splitting the sky. Jisoo sat in the dark, curled on the couch, surrounded by the beginnings of another nest—blankets drawn close, cushions arranged around him like a fragile fortress.
He hated it. Hated himself. Yet he couldn't stop. His body sought comfort, safety, warmth. His pride screamed against it, but instinct won.
The door clicked. Minjae entered, dripping rainwater, his presence filling the room. His eyes swept over the scene, and his lips curved faintly.
"You built another one."
Jisoo stiffened. "Leave."
But Minjae didn't. He shrugged off his wet coat, draping it on the chair, then walked closer, slow and deliberate. The storm outside roared, but the silence between them was louder.
Minjae stopped before the couch, looking down at him. "You can't keep fighting this."
Jisoo glared, though his voice shook. "I'll never—"
"Never what?" Minjae cut in softly, crouching until their eyes met. "Need me? Belong to me? Admit what you are?"
Jisoo's chest heaved. "I'm not yours."
Minjae's hand reached out, brushing along his jaw. The touch was electric, sending a shudder through Jisoo's entire body.
"You've been mine from the beginning," Minjae whispered.
The storm cracked outside, thunder shaking the windows. Inside, silence stretched.
Jisoo's body trembled, his breath ragged. His pride screamed to push Minjae away, to deny him. But his body leaned closer, instinct clawing free, desperate for the safety only Minjae provided.
Finally, the dam broke.
He collapsed forward, burying his face in Minjae's chest, fists clutching his shirt like a drowning man grasping for air. His scent spilled uncontrollably, sweet and pleading, wrapping around them both.
Minjae inhaled deeply, arms closing around him, firm and possessive. "That's it," he murmured, voice low and dangerous. "Surrender."
Jisoo trembled violently, shame and relief colliding. "I hate you," he whispered, though his voice cracked with need.
Minjae smirked faintly against his hair. "You hate that I'm right."
"I'll never—"
"You already have." Minjae tilted his chin upward, forcing their eyes to meet. "Every breath, every glance, every nest you build—you've been calling for me."
Jisoo's heart pounded. His body burned. He couldn't deny it anymore.
Minjae's lips brushed against his temple, soft but claiming. "Say it."
Jisoo's throat tightened. The words stuck, his pride resisting even as instinct screamed to obey.
"Say you need me," Minjae pressed, voice low, commanding.
Silence stretched. Rain pounded. Jisoo's fists clenched, his entire body trembling.
Finally, in a broken whisper, the words slipped free.
"I… need you."
Minjae's eyes darkened, victory flashing like lightning. His hand gripped Jisoo's jaw, tilting his head back. "Again."
Tears burned at the edges of Jisoo's eyes. "I… need you."
Minjae's smirk curved, softer this time, almost tender. He leaned closer, his lips brushing Jisoo's ear.
"You'll never survive without me now."
And Jisoo knew it was true.
That night, Minjae stayed.
Not as an assistant, not as a subordinate, but as something far more dangerous. He settled into the nest beside Jisoo, their scents mingling until the air was thick with possession. Jisoo trembled, torn between shame and comfort, but he didn't push Minjae away.
For the first time, he slept. Deep, unbroken, safe.
And when dawn broke, Minjae was still there—watching, waiting, as if the world already belonged to him.