Diary On Ice

Chapter 19 Fort King Kwon #2

As the lights dimmed, Wynter settled beside me, his arm resting on the couch so close that his sleeve brushed mine.

I held my breath, hoping my racing heart wasn't as obvious as it felt.

Every time he shifted, every time his knee bumped mine, I felt a quiet thrill, my mind too focused on his presence to care about the movie.

"Can I talk to you later tonight?" he asked me softly.

"Did I do something?" I wondered guiltily. "Because I swear I'm completely innocent. I didn't read—"

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I just think we need to talk. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's okay," I agreed.

Oh, I was so screwed. He was going to pull me aside and tell me he knew I was insane, and then say he never wanted to see me again, file a restraining order, and I'd get sent to the loony bin.

When a jump scare made me flinch, I instinctively reached out, my hand landing on his. I tensed, expecting him to pull back, but when he didn't, I moved my hand in surprise.

Neither of us said anything, and I couldn't bring myself to speak.

The room felt different—almost like the two of us were in a little bubble, close enough to feel the quiet, unspoken energy building between us.

I glanced at him, catching him sneaking a look my way, and when our eyes met, he didn't look away. Oh?

As the movie ended and the lights came back on, I felt him slip away, and the absence was almost startling.

He gave me a soft, lingering look that made my cheeks flush, and I couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same spark I did.

Before I could say anything, Bae leaned over, grabbing my attention with her usual grin.

"So, another movie or are we raiding the kitchen?" she asked, oblivious to the tension that lingered between Wynter and me.

The night had taken a turn into chaos. We'd been having a great time—everyone was getting more comfortable, more demanding, and it seemed like all at once, Wynter had become the official host, trying to juggle a million things at once.

First, Bae had decided she was suddenly too cold, needing another blanket to drape over herself, but not just any blanket—no, it had to be the "extra fuzzy one" from the linen closet. She gave him the kind of look that only a younger sibling could give, the "you must know which one I mean" look.

"Wynter, can you grab the fuzzy blanket from the closet? The blue one? You know the one," Bae said, looking at him expectantly from the couch.

He looked at her, his eyes wide for a moment. "The blue one? There are, like, five blue blankets, Bae."

She waved him off like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You know the one, with the soft edges!"

Wynter sighed, dragging himself off the couch. As soon as his feet hit the floor, Jax piped up, grinning. "Oh, and while you're at it, man, could you bring me some more chips? I'm out."

Before Wynter could even open his mouth, Sydney chimed in. "And a soda. Don't forget the soda! I'm so thirsty."

He rubbed his face, looking like he might have aged five years in the last five minutes. "You guys realize I'm not staff here, right?"

Cahya, from the floor, leaned back and lazily raised a hand. "And I'm still waiting on that blanket fort idea. Just saying."

Wynter blinked, momentarily speechless. "A blanket fort?"

"Yeah," Cahya said, completely serious. "You know, for atmosphere. We could all pile in and, like, get comfy. What's a movie night without a blanket fort?"

Bae's face lit up. "Oh my god, that's perfect! I'll help you build it!"

Wynter just stood there for a moment, staring at his friends like he'd been handed a list of demands from a group of over-caffeinated toddlers. "Right. So I'm supposed to get you a blanket, chips, soda, and somehow also make a fort that's structurally sound enough to fit all of you in it?"

"Yes," Bae said, already halfway up, her excitement palpable. "And make it look cute."

Wynter didn't even reply, just turned toward the closet. He pulled out the first blanket he could find, throwing it over his shoulder. "Here's your fuzzy one," he said sarcastically, "and there better be chips and soda in the fridge, or this night is over."

Sydney had already put her empty soda can on the table, eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Wynter. I'll be forever grateful."

He sighed as he walked toward the kitchen.

As he entered, he could hear Bae and Cahya start enthusiastically discussing the blanket fort's design, with Jax piping up about the potential for a secret trapdoor.

Wynter could hear him smirk from across the room.

"Dude, I'm just saying—trapdoors are essential to any fort. "

Wynter muttered under his breath as he opened the fridge. "I swear to God, if this ends up being a five-star hotel at this rate…"

By the time he returned, he was carrying bags of chips and sodas, his hands loaded down with items he had no idea he had even bought. The blanket was still draped over his shoulder, and he was completely ignoring the fact that he'd already been distracted by the chaos.

As soon as he stepped into the room, Bae grinned, pointing toward the corner. "Wynter, we need more pillows for the fort! And can you move the couch over there to make room?"

Wynter, looking utterly defeated, plopped the snacks down on the table, then turned to look at the pile of pillows they had already gathered. "Whatever you want, Bae."

"Yay," Bae replied, not missing a beat. "The fort has to be perfect."

"Right," Wynter muttered. "Perfect fort, coming right up." He flopped down onto the couch, exhausted. "Somehow, I think I'll need a nap after all this."

Jax grinned as he grabbed a bag of chips. "Wynter, you're a hero, man. We'll throw in some marshmallows later. You can totally be the fort king."

"All hail!" Sydney mused. "Fort King Kwon!"

Wynter threw a pillow at Jax, and it bounced off Jax's head with a soft thud. "No one ever told me hosting a movie night would involve this much construction."

As he finally gave in and helped them move the furniture, a laugh escaped him—one that felt like it had been trapped behind his stress all night.

Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation, or the fact that he was actually enjoying himself, but something about the chaos was oddly comforting. It was familiar. It was us.

Even if it meant he was now their unofficial butler.

Everyone chimed in, getting up to grab snacks and blankets, but as Wynter and I exchanged a look, the room seemed to fade into the background. For the first time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, there was something between us. Something that was slowly becoming harder to ignore.

"Hey…" I whispered to him, my shoulder brushing his. "You're doing an amazing job juggling everyone all at once."

"I'm well trained," he shrugged. "Are you…are you having fun? Do you need anything?"

"Of course I'm having fun. Don't worry, I'm all good," I reassured him, not wanting to add on to the stress of it all.

That night, Bae fell asleep in the guest bedroom all on her own.

Sydney and Jax slept on the couch, tangled up, Cahya on the floor beneath them.

Wynter offered for me to sleep in his bed, and my heart fell to the floor.

The thought of being between his sheets was unreal, and my mind wandered into unscrupulous territory.

I would be in his bed, where he slept every night. I could feel my heart racing at the thought.

I lay there in the bed, the soft rustle of the sheets around me, trying to calm the fluttering in my chest. Everyone else had already drifted off to sleep, the house now quiet except for the occasional soft snore from Jax on the couch.

I could still hear Wynter moving around the room, his footsteps light as he made himself comfortable on the floor beside me.

"I brought you something to eat. I know snacks aren't enough to fill you up," he spoke, placing a bowl of noodles next to my bed. "I made it myself, for you."

"Thanks," I sighed, sitting up in bed and taking the chopsticks and breaking them in half as he watched me intently.

"Are you okay to talk now?" he questioned.

"Yeah, sure. What's up?" I asked with a mouthful of noodles. "These are yummy, by the way."

"Firstly, I wanted to apologize for walking out on you that day.

That was unbecoming of me. I will explain my actions, but I'm aware that doesn't excuse them.

I was taken aback. Being in the UK, it was easier to escape everything that happened.

But coming here and then seeing that poster—a reminder that no one's forgotten—was both a comfort and a terror for me.

And I'm sorry for walking out," he apologized, bowing his head in respect.

"Wyn—"

"Not just last week, but summer seventeen for you too. I'm sorry for turning my back on you, on Cahya, on everything and everyone. I won't walk out on you ever again, sincerely," he insisted, and I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me.

"Oh," I acknowledged. "I appreciate your apology. Your reaction was understandable. I just think that next time you should speak to me sooner."

"I will. I figure that soon enough, you, Yesoh Yeo, will find me incredibly insufferable," he foreshadowed.

"And why is that?" I wondered.

"Because I also wanted to speak to you, to let you know that my heart has changed.

I've always cared about you, deeply, so you know this.

But now I wish to care for you. I was conflicted at first, but now my mind is clear as day.

I want to know you not as a friend of a friend, but as the phenomenal woman you've grown up to become," he expressed, his icy brown eyes bathing me in desire. "If you'll have me."

"If I'll…" I repeated in shock. That straightjacket would come in handy right about now. "Are you crazy? Of course I'll have you— I mean, pfft, yeah, I'll see how I feel."

"Alright," he nodded. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Definitely," I cleared my throat, finishing my food and switching off the lamp at his bedside table.

I should've felt embarrassed, I told myself.

He'd offered me his bed, but I hadn't expected to feel…

this way. His kindness, the way he was always looking out for everyone, was part of why I was drawn to him.

But tonight, with him so close, it felt different.

The simple fact that I was lying here while he slept on the floor made my chest tighten.

I wanted to ask him to take the bed, but I didn't want to make things awkward.

So, I just stayed quiet, pretending the warmth inside me wasn't growing with every passing second.

It wasn't until I heard his soft voice, barely above a whisper, that I realized I wasn't the only one awake.

"Are you okay?" Wynter's voice was low, as if he didn't want to disturb the silence.

I turned my head toward him. He was lying on the floor, his eyes slightly open, looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah, I'm okay," I said, though it wasn't entirely true. The words felt too light for what was in my chest. It wasn't discomfort—it was something else. Something I wasn't sure how to name.

The silence stretched between us for a moment before I heard him move again.

I couldn't see his face from where I lay, but I could feel him there, close.

I knew he was still awake. The air seemed to hum with that quiet tension, like everything was teetering just on the edge of something I couldn't quite reach.

And then, without thinking, I found myself speaking.

"Wynter?" My voice felt shy, even to me, and I wasn't sure why. I had always felt comfortable around him, but right now, everything felt charged, delicate.

"Yeah?" His voice sounded a little strained, like he wasn't sure where this was going either.

I hesitated for just a moment, wondering if I should even ask. But then I decided to just be honest, in this strange, quiet space between us. "Would you… mind if I held your hand?"

The words were out before I could stop them, and as soon as I said them, I felt heat rush to my cheeks. What was I doing? What if he thought it was weird?

But then I heard him shift, moving closer, and before I could talk myself out of it, his hand was in mine.

It felt like an electric pulse ran through me when our fingers first touched.

His hand was warm, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe.

I didn't know if it was the simple act of holding hands, or if it was the way he seemed to settle with me, as if he'd been waiting for this moment too.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he whispered, his thumb brushing over my knuckles gently. "You can sleep. You don't need to worry about me."

I wanted to say something, but I couldn't quite find the words.

Instead, I just squeezed his hand, not too tight, but just enough for him to feel it.

It was like I needed to reassure him that this wasn't about obligation.

I wasn't just holding his hand because I thought I should. I was holding it because it felt right.

"I'm not worried," I whispered back. "I just like being near you. I want to touch you in a way that's different, like you'd said."

I couldn't see his face, but I could almost feel the way his expression softened at my words.

The warmth between us seemed to settle into something comfortable, something peaceful.

The room felt smaller somehow, but not in a suffocating way.

It was as though the space between us had been filled with something quiet, something that didn't need to be explained.

Slowly, I felt my eyelids grow heavier, the warmth of his hand in mine like an anchor in the stillness of the night. I could feel him beside me, his presence grounding me, and despite everything, the weight of the world outside this room seemed to disappear.

And before I knew it, sleep came, pulling me under like a soft tide, my hand still curled gently around his, as if we were holding onto something far more important than the night around us.

I felt his grip tighten, just a little. Like this time he wasn't going to drift away, like maybe, just maybe, he'd stay.