Chapter 15: The Uncertainty
Joan woke to the pale, dust-flecked light of late morning. Cheol was still deep asleep beside her, his body a solid, warm weight. His arm was draped heavily across her waist, his hand splayed possessively over her hip. His face was so close to hers on the pillow she could trace the faint scar through his eyebrow, count the individual lashes casting shadows on his cheek. The proximity, the sheer untroubled peace of him, made her chuckle lightly, a soft puff of air that stirred no wakefulness in him.
She watched him. His words from the night before echoed in the quiet room, a stark counterpoint to the gentle rhythm of his breath.
“But if you do, fall in love with me… then I hope we can try being together where it’s just us—no Jeonghan, no others, no dice. Just us.”
The clarity of the offer, the devastating sincerity in his unguarded eyes as he’d said it, now felt like a physical object in the room. She turned it over in her mind.
Why had she never seen him this way before? For years, Cheol had been a constant: reliable, strong, the quiet center around which their group orbited. She’d had a crush on Jeonghan instead, drawn to the glittering mischief, the playful unpredictability. Maybe Cheol’s very steadiness had felt like a boundary she shouldn’t cross. He was such a good friend. The foundation. You don’t gamble with the foundation.
But the dice had shaken everything loose. Lines were no longer just crossed; they were erased. And in that chaotic, pleasurable freefall, Cheol had emerged not as the ruined foundation, but as something else entirely. A different kind of certainty. Maybe he was exactly what she needed. Maybe, in his steadfast, intense way, Cheol wouldn’t hurt her.
Lost in the thought, her hand moved of its own volition. She carefully brushed a stray strand of dark hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering on the smooth skin of his temple.
His eyes fluttered open. There was no disorientation, no groggy blur. He focused on her instantly, and a smile, slow and utterly unguarded, transformed his sleep-softened face. “Good morning.” His voice was a low, sleepy rumble that vibrated through the pillow.
Joan felt her own smile bloom in response, reflexive and true. She leaned in to give him a quick, light peck.
He caught it. His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, holding her there. The quick peck melted into something else—a slow, lazy, deeply passionate exploration. There was no urgency, no hunger driven by dice or competition. This was a reclaiming. His lips moved against hers with a warm, thorough possessiveness, his tongue sweeping in to taste her slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. The scent of him—sleep and male skin and the faint, clean smell of her own soap—filled her senses. She sank into the kiss, into the weight of his arm across her, her body softening against his.
When they finally parted, they were both breathing a little deeper. He kept his forehead pressed to hers.
“I’ve been thinking,” she began, her voice barely a whisper.
She traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip, gathering the nerve. The warmth of the bed, the quiet sanctuary of his arms, felt like the only place this could be said. “About the dice. The group.”
Cheol went very still, but his thumb continued its soft stroke against her temple.
“I think I wanna call off being fuck buddies with the group,” she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, Wonwoo’s out of the agreement since he started courting the chaebol heiress. Mingyu and Jun are always busy. And I think Joshua and DK mentioned wanting to opt out too.” She took a breath, her eyes searching his. “I also think I wanna focus on our throuple… you, me and Jeonghan.”
The silence that followed was absolute. She watched his face, the subtle shift in his eyes. The hope she’d seen upon waking retreated, replaced by a familiar, stoic calculation. This was still far off what Cheol really wanted. Jeonghan was his best friend, and he knew that Jeonghan didn’t like her the way he did.
But Cheol thought this was a good sign. She was slowly letting her walls down. She was choosing to reduce the chaos, to draw a smaller circle. It was a compromise, but it was movement. Toward him, even if Jeonghan was still in the picture.
He nodded, a single, slow dip of his chin. “Okay,” he said, his voice rough with sleep and something else. “If that’s what you want.” He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, a seal of acceptance. The gesture was tender, but it felt like a door clicking shut on a brighter room he’d glimpsed.
Her phone, discarded on the nightstand, buzzed sharply against the wood.
The sound was a violation. Cheol’s gaze flicked toward it, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Joan hesitated, then twisted to grab it. The screen glowed in the dim room.
A text from Jeonghan.
You guys up yet? This 1/3 of the throuple wants a fuck. Will be there in 15. Will bring bagels.
The crude, casual demand landed between them like a thrown gauntlet. Joan felt the cozy intimacy of the last few minutes vaporize, replaced by a dizzying tension.
She looked from the bright screen to Cheol’s face, which had shut down completely, becoming an unreadable mask of hard lines and shadowed eyes. The warmth from their kiss was a ghost on her lips, chased away by the chill of his expression. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched her as if waiting for a verdict.
The phone buzzed again in her hand, a persistent, angry hum.
“Are you going to answer that?” Cheol’s voice was flat, stripped of all the softness from seconds before. It was the voice he used for business, for dealing with problems.
“He said he’s bringing bagels,” Joan said, the words sounding stupid even to her. She was stalling, trapped between the man in her bed and the text on her screen.
Cheol’s gaze dropped from her face to the rumpled sheets between them. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He nodded once, a tight, mechanical motion. He understood the math. One text, and the delicate thing they’d built last night was relegated to a secret, a footnote before the main event.
Joan watched Cheol’s expression. She knew he wanted more than this arrangement with Jeonghan, but with her feelings for Jeonghan this is all that she could offer at the moment. The realization was a cold stone in her stomach. She saw the exact moment he accepted it, the resignation that smoothed the tension from his shoulders only to hollow out his eyes.
She reached for him. Her fingers touched his cheek, the strough there rough against her palm. She caressed his face in unspoken apology. Her thumb brushed over the place where his dimple had been, now absent. Then she plants a soft lingering kiss on his lips. It was a kiss of goodbye to something that hadn’t even properly started.
She pulled back, forcing a brightness into her voice that felt like a lie. “Can you make me those yummy pancakes you like making?” Joan says cutely trying to make light of the mood.
He blinked, the shift too sudden. “He said he’ll bring bagels.” Cheol says in confusion, his brow furrowing.
“Eh, I’m not in the mood for bagel. Come on. I can be your assistant chef.” Joan says giddily, swinging her legs out of bed. The silk sheet pooled around her waist. She needed motion, noise, the clatter of bowls to fill this silent rift.
Cheol stares at her for a long moment, at her performative smile. He chuckles giving in to her light. The sound was quiet, almost sad. He lingers a stare soaking up just how much he loves her before pressing a light kiss on her lips. “Ok, come on.”
He got out of bed, his body a landscape of taut muscle and old scars in the morning light. He pulled on his discarded sweatpants and walked toward the kitchen without looking back. Joan scrambled into a robe and followed, the text from Jeonghan burning a hole in her mind.
The kitchen was a monument to last night’s intimacy. The empty stew bowls still sat in the sink. Cheol moved past them, opening her fridge and cabinets with a quiet familiarity that squeezed her heart. He gathered flour, eggs, milk. The ordinary, domestic sounds were a peace offering.
“Get the vanilla,” he said, not turning around. “And the big bowl.”
She did, brushing against his arm as she placed the extract on the counter. A static charge seemed to leap between them. He glanced down at her, his eyes dark and unreadable, then cracked an egg one-handed against the rim of the bowl.
He worked in silence, whisking the batter with a brisk, efficient rhythm. Joan leaned against the counter, watching the corded strength in his forearm. This was his language. Care expressed through action, not poetry.
“He’s going to be here soon,” she said, the words cutting the quiet.
“I know.” Cheol didn’t look up. He poured a ladle of batter onto the hot buttered pan. It sizzled, releasing a sweet, vanilla-kissed scent that fought with the lingering tension. “This doesn’t change anything, Joan.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Pancakes.” He flipped one, golden and perfect. “Me being here. You choosing to have breakfast with me fifteen minutes before he comes over to fuck you.” He said it plainly, a simple statement of fact. “It’s just a delay.”
The frankness stole her breath. “It’s not just a—”
“It is.” He slid the pancake onto a plate and started another. “You made a choice when you didn’t text him back to wait. You’re having both. Just in your preferred order.” He finally looked at her, and the raw truth in his gaze was more brutal than any anger. “And I’m letting you.”
The bell rang, a sharp, discordant chime that shattered the moment.
They froze. The second pancake bubbled, threatening to burn. Cheol’s hand tightened on the spatula handle, his knuckles white. Joan’s eyes locked with his, wide and suddenly frightened. The sound was an invasion, a line being crossed from the hypothetical into the now.
Cheol moved first. He turned off the burner with a sharp click. He picked up the plate with the single, perfect pancake and placed it in front of her on the counter. He set a fork beside it.
“Eat,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll get the door.”
“Cheol, no, I should—”
But he was already walking out of the kitchen, his broad back a wall moving toward the foyer. Joan stood paralyzed, the warmth of the pancake steaming up into the cold dread settling in her stomach. She heard the door open.
“You’re early,” Cheol’s voice floated back, neutral and utterly controlled.
“Traffic was a dream,” came Jeonghan’s lilting reply, sweet as poisoned honey. “Brought enough bagels for three. Is our girl awake?”
Their girl. The pronoun hung in the air. Joan heard footsteps, and then Jeonghan appeared in the kitchen doorway. He looked ethereal and out of place, holding a paper bag, his long hair flawless. His sly eyes took in the scene: Joan in her robe, the single pancake, Cheol standing like a sentinel behind him.
“Oh,” Jeonghan said, a slow smile spreading. “Pancakes. How domestic.”
How domestic.”
Jeonghan’s smile was a razor wrapped in silk. His eyes, that luminous, knowing amber, scanned the kitchen—the single plate, the abandoned batter bowl, Cheol’s rigid posture by the doorway. He let the observation hang, a verdict.
Jeonghan sets the bagels down on the counter. The paper sack crinkled, obscenely loud. Cheol makes his way to the living room picking up his things ready to leave. He moved with a stiff, economical grace, collecting his wallet and phone from the coffee table with a finality that tightened Joan’s throat.
Jeonghan’s head snaps into his direction. “Wait, Cheol, where you going?”
“I’m giving you space for that fuck you need.” Cheol said with a straight expression. He didn’t look back, sliding his phone into his pocket. His shoulders were a tense line under his shirt.
“Yeah, about that…” Jeonghan says casually while stealing a pancake slice off Joan’s plate. He popped the golden piece into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he leaned against the counter. “The fuck I said I needed was actually a farewell fuck. I’m opting out of the throuple after. I’m actually opting out of the whole dice group too. I mean we’re all still friends but yeah.”
The air left the room. Joan’s fork clattered against her plate. Cheol stopped, his back still to them, but his head tilted slightly, listening.
Joan’s eyes widen at the revelation from the guy she likes. “Um why?”
“Cause… remember Sumi? The girl I told you I really liked but had a boyfriend?” Jeonghan says towards Cheol’s direction. Cheol nods slowly, finally turning to face them. His expression was unreadable, a mask of pure absorption. Jeonghan continues, “She’s broken up with the guy and we got to texting and she admitted that she’s actually into me too. So, you all understand, right?” He continues to chew on a bagel, tearing a piece off with his teeth as if discussing the weather.
The casual demolition of their entire arrangement was breathtaking. Joan just stared, her mind scrambling to map the new, empty space where her understanding of the last few months had been.
“So when you’re done eating, hope we can get started. You too Cheol.” Jeonghan brushed crumbs from his fingers. “Let’s fuck our girl as a throuple one last time. I’ll just take a quick shower.” He pushed off the counter and walked past them both, heading down the hallway toward the bathroom with the familiarity of someone who owned the place. The door clicked shut. A second later, the pipes groaned as the shower hissed to life.
Silence flooded back, thick and suffocating. Joan looked from the closed bathroom door to Cheol, who hadn’t moved. His intense eyes were locked on her, blazing with a ferocity that made her stomach drop. All the resigned acceptance from minutes ago was incinerated, replaced by something raw and immediate.
The farewell fuck. The opt-out. Jeonghan was throwing them together, gift-wrapping Joan and pushing her into Cheol’s arms with a smirk. And he was leaving the game entirely. The dice were suddenly meaningless.
Cheol took a single step toward her, then another. The space between them crackled. He stopped at the edge of the kitchen tile, his gaze dropping to the uneaten pancake, then back to her face.
He knew that the throuple was a way for her to keep him and Jeonghan around without having to hurt him because she liked Jeonghan. He wondered what it meant for them. Would she want to continue as a couple now that Jeonghan’s leaving?
Joan who was taken a back. Quietly puts her plate on the sink and moves quietly to her room, “I’ll be in the room getting ready for the threesome.” She says plainly trying to hide the fact that she’s heartbroken that her feelings for Jeonghan aren’t reciprocated.