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booksndpoetry · 17 days

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A Modern Love Story

A Lee Minho Fanfic

m.list

Sequel to The Gratitude Series

WC: 3.6k words

Characters: Lee Minho X Fem reader

Genre: Fluff

Triggers/Warnings: Mentions of nightmares

Entails: Established relationship, pet names, hugging, they're in love.

You’re not a writer, but if you could compile all the moments you were so deeply in love, you would do so. And it would be messy, imperfect, blunt, and out of order, but it would be yours. It’s no grand fairytale, but a modern love story, just as you like it.

i. Thank you for looking at me when you needed comfort.

Words of affirmation are your love language, and acts of service his, but you feel utterly helpless when he's so broken. You don't know what will help ease his hapless cries, but you want to be there for him.

“Hey,” you call out softly. No answer. You go further and plant your feet in the middle of the room.

You and Minho had been together for a short time, a little over a month. It is still a delight whenever you're reminded that he's yours now. The both of you were slowly warming up to each other, but there was still a considerable distance between you two. As though you hadn't dared to go near a line that meant you were truly in it, together. It would mean you were vulnerable and bare, unguarded around the other.

But that changed when you came home to a very tired-looking Minho on the couch, who was utterly drained from the day's events.

Your first reaction was to give him space and time to collect himself. But then it dawned on you that the way you want to be given comfort is not the same way he would expect it.

Carefully, you tread across the room till you reach him and with the tenderness you reserved only for him, you hesitantly card your fingers in his hair and whisper his name.

Minho was so out of it that he failed to register you coming in. He was just lying there on the couch, too tired to even take off his jacket. He was so exhausted, he felt like he could lay that way for hours on end and suddenly he felt your presence.

He feels your fingers in his hair and the caress of his syllables on your tongue. He doesn't know how to react.

He never expected that you'd catch him in his messiest state. He wants to brush this off, play off his embarrassment as nothing and just when he opens his mouth, you beat him to it and ask

"Want me to stay or give you space?"

His lips part at your words. That was the first time you’d spoken to him without stammering. He always thought it cute. But then, if you were going to speak to him like that, in clever but thoughtful sentences, he was going to think you were running after his heart. You give him a small but reassuring smile after and he just…breaks.

Maybe it was the gentleness you handled him with or the considerate question you asked him. The answer to which lay within his choice.

Either way, he can't stop it when fresh tears spring to his eyes and trail down his cheeks before he can stop them. He ducks his head in embarrassment.

He was sure you'd look at him in a different light, and distance yourself from him. Although the logical part of his brain assures him that you're way too kind and understanding to do that, his emotions get the best of him and he cries more.

You concede by wrapping your arms around him and laying his head on your shoulder for now. You were in quite an uncomfortable position. Your office chair was not the most comfortable, and your legs were feeling the impact of it then. But that wasn’t important.

Right then, you simply hold him, knowing that he's capable of picking himself up but being there to help him share the burden of his weight. You tighten your hold around him when he takes in deep breaths, only for sobs to wrack him. You lightly run your fingers on his scalp, until he calms down and you're both sitting in silence.

"You okay now?" you ask him softly, and he almost says yes.

But he doesn't, because he's too warm and cosy in your embrace. He goes with the truth.

"M’better, will be okay" his words come out muffled due to his face resting on your collarbone.

He sighs happily and nuzzles his face in further. You smile. Even though you can’t see his face, you’re sure he’s blushing. You understand and lay your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you. The both of you stay there for a while, in each other's arms.

After a few minutes, you make a move to get up but he holds you, not letting you go. He looks up at you, and you're at a loss for words.

You'd always known Minho was beautiful. He'd taken your breath away completely multiple times, like when he took you to his home for the first time and you melted at the way he looked at his cats. Or the time when he'd monitored his performance in the camera, eyes unblinking as he analysed himself. His gaze had always left you breathless, evident by the way you could not hold eye contact with him for long.

But the way he was looking at you now, you had no words to describe it. His eyes were soft and raw, begging you to stay. His pupils were dilated, and he looked at you with such intense affection and love. You wanted to capture this moment forever. But instead, you brushed his hair back from his eyes and told him that you were going to be back. He pouts and you almost relent but he loosens his hold on you.

"Come back soon." he pleads and you nod.

You get up from the couch and go into the kitchen, looking for a clean tumbler. Once you find it, you fill it just below its brim with water and hurry to the living room.

You thought he'd not want to initiate more contact, but the moment you're within arm's reach, he pulls you in until you're sitting in his lap. You yelp, precariously holding the glass so no water spills out.

He pays no mind to the glass and simply rests his shoulder in the crook of your neck.

You suddenly feel shy at the action, feeling like hiding away until your cheeks are no longer burning. You were no stranger to physical touch, but it was the first time he was touching you so much and it made your heart race.

"Drink up" you tell him, holding out the glass of water.

He makes no move to take it. He just tilts his head slightly and you understand. You bring the glass to his lips and he takes sips, and then gulps of the water until it is empty. The entire time, he never once loosens his grip around you. Suddenly you feel warm all over, especially in your chest.

When he finishes, he licks his lips and looks at you. "Thank you" he says, and you reply with an automatic

"You're not welcome."

You don’t register the words coming out of your mouth. You’re too busy tracing his now-dried tears. His eyes crinkle with a tiny smile at your words, amused at the way you phrase your words. Even distracted, you never fail to banter with him. You look up and grin, feeling a bit giddy at the fact that you made him smile. Out of all the people in his life, you were the one who got to make him smile.

“Now what?" He asks, eyes no longer sad, but bright. You breathe a little easier.

"I dunno. What’d you wanna do?"

“Hmm” he makes a show of thinking loudly.

You just stare at him, not bothering to cover the awe in your gaze. He looks at you, a single eyebrow raised.

"What?" you grin wider and before you think too much of it, you place a peck on his lips.

He stops moving entirely. You think you've overstepped your boundaries and go to apologise for kissing him without his consent first, but he stops you when he places his lips on yours.

He kisses you softly. His cracked lips are rough, but welcoming on your own. The sensation of kissing him is like soothing a wound you didn’t know you had acquired. He kisses you until you have to break apart for air. He makes no move to stop until you push him lightly. You feel like your entire body is aflame.

"We don’t need to stop." he says, despite his ears turning scarlet. Heat rushes to your face and you lightly hit him. He makes no move to dodge it, and you see a familiar glint of mischief in his irises.

"I almost forgot how to breathe." you say while fanning yourself, eyes not meeting his.

He just smirks, hands still on your waist. He feels great at having made you shy.

Minho makes up his mind on what he wants to do.

“We have two options" he says, and you pause your movements.

He waits a bit more for dramatic effect and says "Option one: I'll make dinner and you can help me" and you grin, nodding.

"Option two: " he drawls out slowly

"We eat each other for dinner".

You blanch and remind him, “I’m not into cannibalism, you know?”.

He pays no heed to your words. his mind is somewhere in a place filled with your eyes and your soft touch, and his eyes are on your lips. It still amazes you, how he can switch up in an instant. You roll your eyes, even as you hold up one finger.

"One." you say, moving away from him. He pouts in reply.

"Only option two is available. It's irresistible." he says earnestly grabbing your hand.

He can’t believe you didn’t choose option two. You're not charmed by his attempts. But you're very endeared, both by his pout and his now-red ears. You go back and grab him by the fabric of his shirt. He stills in place.

"If you want, we can choose option two after dinner.” You say nonchalantly as possible and make your exit. He just blinks and his ears burn. You drive him crazy. He wanted you to keep driving him crazy.

A moment later, he’s hot on his heels, chasing after you. With his heart in tow.

ii. Thanks to you, I’m looking at myself for the first time through your eyes.

“Baby I’m going to get groceries. You want anything?”, you call out while writing your grocery list. He comes into the kitchen and looks over your shoulder. “No?” he questions, more to himself than to you. You’re momentarily distracted by his face, but you snap your head towards your list before he notices. You were still way too flustered around him.

“Do you have ingredients for if you decide to cook?” you ask, still writing down stuff, except your grip on the pen is now tighter. Thanks to him, your Adonis of a boyfriend.

“Your handwriting is nice.”, he claims, as though it is a fact as true as time, even as he ducks under the cabinets to cover his flushed face.

The world stops, then resumes spinning on its axis. You exhale softly.

“Really?”

The words come out a minute later than you intended. Lots of people had said the same thing to you before, the same words thrown around lightly.

But coming from him, you feel as though your handwriting is actually nice. You were used to your slants and the cursive, the font as familiar to you as the back of your hand. Nothing special about it. Now, you fall in love all over again with your own lettering, delighting in each form of the alphabet. With him, everything was new, even parts of yourself that you had grown used to. Loving him was coming back home, in the truest sense of the word.

“Thank you.”

He nods.

A moment later, “Can you get me pudding?”

iii. I like your company

Minho is sulking around the house, for reasons unknown to you. This is the fifth time he’s sighed so loudly in the last three minutes, the sound. And as much as his pout is adorable, you don’t want him to be upset.

Turning the television off, you get off the couch and make your way to the bedroom.

He sits there, nearly engulfed by the pile of blankets he’s surrounded himself with. The visual makes you smile.

“Why are you sighing baby?”

“Because you left me when I decided to watch a movie.”

“You were the one who declined my company remember?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually go. I wanted to watch it with you.” He says it like a confession he didn’t intend to make, one he’d hoped to keep in the secret chambers of his heart.

Your self-satisfied stance softens entirely.

“Baby I didn’t know you were teasing me. I thought you wanted some alone time.”

He just presses his lips into a line, and says, “I don’t want to be alone, even when I say so. I just want you with me.” He looks at a distant spot above your head, everywhere except your eyes.

Your eyes crinkle at that, all faux smugness gone. “I won’t know until you tell me, love. Unfortunately, I’m not inntinsic-“

“What’s inntinsic?” he interrupts, and you just give up on what you were going to say, the words forgotten.

You were a goner from the time he took interest in every word you said and carefully listened. You loved to use new words you’d learnt from reading, and every time you mentioned a new one, Minho would interrupt you mid-sentence to demand to know what it meant. It was cute, the way he didn’t want to wait until you were done speaking to understand it, like he wouldn’t miss a fraction of a second with the knowledge of you.

However, thinking back on your words, you just realized that whatever you used was not a real word. You just quoted a book,…and he didn’t know.

“Oh um, never mind. I meant to say telepathic. Inntinsic is…not a real word.” You want to bury yourself in a burrow at the end of the world and disappear.

“You’re using fantasy words now? What about all the times you tricked me? My reputation is at stake, Name.” He’s now sitting up, sounding all cocky at your little slip-up.

Minho knows that you’re meticulous about your grammar, and he hopes to tease you enough so you grant him a shove, a touch, anything. He acts like you’re at his mercy, when really he’s at your mercy, a puppet with the strings entwined in your fingers.

You tsk “I take it you don’t want to watch a movie with me? Great thanks. I’m off now.” Giving him a mock salute, you attempt to bolt out the door.

He laughs and catches you before you can get away. He grips your waist from the edge of the bed and you come crashing into his chest. He tickles you relentlessly, and you squirm in his hold, tears leaking from your eyes. “STOP, stop, please-“

Your shared laughter spills into the air, as the invisible stars in the evening sky bear witness to your glee.

Damn him and his strong arms, you think. But then again, if you’d exercised a little you wouldn’t be in this situation. He was big and warm in his blanket fort. Who were you to refuse?

After you finally catch a break, his eyes rove over you, full of affection. You look away, the eye contact too intense. He smirks at that, and you pretend not to see it, clearing your throat for no reason.

“I call dibs on choosing the movie.”

“We’re watching Home Alone? AGAIN? I thought we talked about thi-”

“Oh shush. It’s starting.”

iv. Walk with me through my nightmares

Your home was empty, except for the petals of lilies scattered around the entire place. You call out to someone, but no one answers. You remember something. Entwined hands, warm shirts, him. Suddenly you’re not at home, but in a dark alley, the entire place pitch black if not for the soft moonlight. You’re standing in front of him. He offers you his hand. You want to take it, but you can’t seem to lift your hands. You try again, but your hand doesn’t budge. You look at him, mouth opening to tell him but strangely, no words come out. He’s retracting his hand and you want to tell him to stay. You try to scream, but it stays lodged in your throat. He turns around, against your wishes. You stay still, even as he goes out of sight. Don’t go, don’t go. Please

You open your eyes, sweating, as you feel something patting your cheek repeatedly. Taking a few deep breaths, you grab something closest to you. An arm, Minho’s arm. You clutch it with your hands. He’s with you, he’s here. Minho holds you tightly, bringing your head to his chest. He rocks you slightly as you try to ground yourself. After a few minutes, he slowly detaches you from his hold, getting up from the bed. You’re too tired to ask him why, sending him a questioning look instead. He merely tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, hand patting your head while telling you to wait.

You sit back against the headboard, as you sleepily try to stay awake.

Hot. It was too hot. You needed air.

You abruptly wake up from the bed, the duvet falling off you. You take one, two, three wobbly steps before you come crashing down on the floor. You wince, rubbing your knee where it hurt from the fall, but the sensation of the cold floor feels nice. You sit there, unmoving, trying to make sense of what just happened. You had a nightmare. A really bad one at that. And you don’t know if you can fall asleep again.

Minho was jolted awake when you were whimpering in your sleep, your entire form trembling. This is the first time he’s seen you going through a nightmare, and he’s grateful that he got to be there for you. What was he supposed to do? You’d like some water, right? He could get you some water. When he returns to the room, glass in hand, he sees you curled up on the marble floor, shivering.

He quickly scoops you up in his arms, and you cling to him like a baby. His lips twitch at that, but he knows better than to tease you in this state. Depositing you on the bed, he brings the glass to your lips as you take in greedy gulps of the water. After you’re done, he wipes your lips and tucks you into bed wordlessly. You don’t have the heart to tell him that you can’t fall asleep. You simply close your eyes and stay still, as he gets back into the sheets, tugs you closer until your foreheads meet, and falls asleep.

But you stay awake. The sounds are too much, the absent hum of the air conditioner, the rustling of the bedcovers, faraway sounds of a vehicle.

You put both your hands into your ears and shut your eyes. When you start to think that maybe you might not get to sleep, Minho starts talking, even as his eyes are closed.

“Do you think maybe we should change the curtains tomorrow?”

You’re confused. You respond with a meek “Huh?”

“The curtains. We put them on during spring, I think we can put up different ones for winter. We can decorate the whole house too, if you’d like.” Minho’s voice drowns out the rest of the incessant noise. The rhythm of your heart stutters, then starts again.

He was trying to talk you to sleep. And it was working. Your eyes slowly drift shut, even as you fight to stay awake. You love him, so much. And you want to let him know.

You tap him thrice on the arm. I love you. You do it again. You hope he understands.

He opens on eye to look at you, confused. You tap him again, I love you. Maybe it was your sleep riddled brain, but you swore you felt him tap you back, a smile adorning his face.

v. I don’t want an epilogue. I just want to wake up with you, for the rest of my life.

Weeks pass by, and the leaves outside droop and fall, painting the ground yellow and crimson. Soon enough, as the world outside begins to be covered in snow, your life slowly becomes coloured in the shades of love.

The hues of your love were mellow, but not monochromatic. They were the colour of the sea in spring, when both of you were feeling blue, wordlessly being with each other. They were the colour of his warm eyes, whenever the both of you sat on the kitchen counter, hands trying to eat popsicles before they melted, even as your teeth chattered. They were the colour of the first rays of sunlight, when his arm reached for your waist and your hands reached for his hair, limbs tangled together under the duvet.

These little moments were your favourite. Because it was just you and him. A thousand thoughts roamed your mind, but the thoughts of him prevailed, always. And you hoped it would be so until the end of time. Until the end of your time.

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© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration for characters. They do not reflect the real people in any way.

#+booksndpoetry #straykidsland #stray kids fanfiction #skz lee minho #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #stayblr #writing #skz imagines #skz #writeblr #stray kids

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booksndpoetry · 1 month

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"Where were you?"

A Kim Seungmin Drabble

m.list

WC: 254 words

Characters: Seungmin X Gender-Neutral Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Triggers/Warnings: None I can think of.

You come in early, and you find your boyfriend as quiet as a mouse, knees tucked together due to the cold.

"Hey" you went to stand in front of him, tucking him into your waist. Seungmin wraps his arms around your waist, head resting on your stomach. He doesn't say a word for long moments.

"Why are you so late?" he mumbles, his voice squeezing your heart.

"Am I really?" you ponder, eyes going to your watch. You weren't late to meet him. You were two minutes early. "But I'm not." You told him patiently, waiting for him to explain.

"You are" he reaffirms, his hold tightening. "I read that soulmates will arrive at the right time, exactly when you need them. So where were you all these years? I missed you." He cries.

You were startled, you didn't know what prompted the outburst. But you held him that way until he was strong enough to hold himself.

"You're late" he tells you again over dinner, when you're both clad in much more comfortable clothing, and his tears have dried enough for you to leave trails of kisses on his beautiful face.

"And what about it?" You humour him.

"For that, I'm subjecting you to be my soulmate in all my lifetimes".

You thought your poor heart was going to burst from all the joy it had to suddenly contain.

"I accept it wholeheartedly", you give him your acceptance with a raise of your spoon and a loving kiss on his lips.

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#+booksndpoetry #straykidsland #stray kids #skz seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #light angst #fluff #skz imagines #skz #skz scenarios #stayblr #skz stay #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #angst with a happy ending #romance one shots #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader

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booksndpoetry · 27 days

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Nerdy is the New Sexy

A Han Jisung Fanfic

m.list

A/N: If anyone gets the title reference, know that I love you.

WC: 1.08k words

Genre: Fluff

Characters: University Student Han Jisung X Gn reader

Triggers/Warnings: Idiots in love, mutual, oblivious pining (I don't like this but here we are)

“Your/Name. Go to sleep.” Jisung says from his room, rubbing his eyes.

You startle at the sudden noise, only to realize it's your roommate, staying up because of the harsh light coming from your room.

“Sorry,” you say, “I’ll just be up for a few more minutes.” “What’s so important you’re staying up for it?”

He comes into your room to peer into your laptop screen. Your breathing quickens at the proximity. He squints for a moment and then he looks at you dead in the eyes.

“Why the hell are you researching Popular dishes of the Medieval Period?” “You never know. I might need it” you weakly defend, though you were just insatiably curious. “God, you’re such a nerd.” He says fondly.

You almost forget how to breathe. Both, from the words coming and the person speaking them.

“I’m not a nerd,” you reply, your tone soft, but firm.

“I’m not a nerd because nerds genuinely spend their time learning new things, things that make them appreciate the world more. Something that justifies as well as glorifies their existence on this planet. It's like giving back because you have a chance to live a life. I'm not a nerd because I sometimes procrastinate and end up hurriedly finishing the essay in two hours instead of the four I'd originally kept apart for it.” You ramble in one breath.

Han watches you, soft eyes taking in your every breath and relishing in the words you speak. He didn’t know it was possible to love someone so much, without even touching them. For him, you were the human embodiment of love and he didn’t like it when you discredited yourself, even for the smallest of things.

“But you write as good of an essay you do in two as well as you do one in four.” He says firmly.

“That’s true,” you muse, “Work expands to fill the Time allocated to it, I guess.” He gives you a self-satisfied look that says ‘See? I told you so.’

“You’re a nerd,” he says in finality. ”Don't even start about how you're not qualified to be one. You're the biggest nerd I know. You're a writer, you make everything sound enjoyable, you're kind, and you have such thoughts about nerds. You're the epitome of a nerd if I ever saw one. So don't worry your little head and come back to sleep. I don't want to drag you to class tomorrow and hear your whining.” He ends his speech with a tired expression as if recounting all the times he dragged your whiny self to classes held at ungodly hours of the morning.

Your heart lurched and backflipped in your chest. God, this was embarrassing, even if you were the only one who witnessed your lovesickness.

He was basically confessing to you, in terms of, hot romance novel terms. But he wasn't the male lead of a romcom and you weren't the protagonist. He was your roommate and you were his friend he was forced to get acquainted with because of your living situation, nothing more.

You don’t want to have fantasies that will end up being just that, fantasies.

So you don’t think about how nice his smile is, or how his arms have been bulging out from his sleeveless shirts recently and how utterly easy it is to love him.

You decide you'll just keep this safely tucked into your mind, where nothing can reach it. You vow to yourself you'll keep it safe for when you second guess whether you really want to keep loving him, when you second guess if you need to keep writing, or when you feel like giving up on yourself. You're nothing if not a writer of your words.

‘What a lame excuse of a pun.’ You tell yourself. But then with the look he's giving you, you realise you haven't given him a response to his words, yet. And you sheepishly smile as he shakes his head, knowing you got caught up in your head again.

“Thank you,” you tell him. You want to tell him of your gratitude in great detail, in a much more deserving way, but words have deserted your mind now and these will have to do.

He smiles, “You act like it isn't true. It is. Now hurry up and get to bed.” He pats your bed and falls into the mass of pillows you’ve kept there. You giggle at his action. That was another thing. You were always smiling around him. He made it so easy.

"Talk dirty to me, why don't you?" you say, playfully wiggling your eyebrows and he throws a chocolate wrapper around you. You frown at that.

“That was my bookmark, you dweeb.”

“So?” he questions as though it means nothing.

“Find another one” he says nonchalantly and you want to throw a brick at his stupidly beautiful face.

“I can’t. Ugh. What do you know about the struggles of a bookworm?”

He rolls his eyes at your theatrics. Even as he makes a note to carry some chocolates for you tomorrow, so you can have enough bookmarks.

“I’ll get you your favourite drink if you come to bed right now,” he says, attentive eyes waiting for your reaction.

For one moment, when he says that, you pretend he's your boyfriend who’s really in love with you. You know you shouldn’t do it but all the fics on your phone say otherwise. So, you pretend he's beckoning you to come sleep next to him, waiting to pull your face under his chin and rest his head on yours. It feels heavenly, the feeling. You wouldn't ever refuse to go to bed if it were real. So you don't refuse now. You turn off your computer and your desk lamp, take off your glasses and dive headfirst into your bed, and it’s his turn to giggle at your antics. You won’t refuse him anything even if he’s not yours. The power he had over you, you didn’t ever want him to know.

He tucks you in like a baby, and whispers “Sleep well, you nerd”, and then he’s off to his own room. You merely smile and snuggle in, and you’re out like a light moments after.

Only when the door is firmly shut, does he kick his feet in the air, having a full-on meltdown after being so near to you. Was this his punishment for writing songs with unrequited love? He groaned. It was so unfair.

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#+booksndpoetry #straykidsland #stray kids #stray kids han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung x y/n #skz imagines #skz #stayblr #skz han #romance one shots #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #writing #writeblr #han jisung fluff #skz fluff

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booksndpoetry · 5 days

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The Gratitude Series

A Lee Minho Fanfic

Prequel to "A Modern Love Story"

WC : 2.8k words

Pairing : Lee Minho X Fem reader

Genre : Fluff

Triggers/Warnings : Repetitions of two particular words and mentions of brownies; read at your own risk of temptation

A/N : This was inspired by my own conversations with my friends when they told me to stop thanking them. I hope each of you who reads this, gets someone who'll thank you from the bottom of their heart.

m.list

“Some days I adore you a little more than a human being can adore” – Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

To Lee Minho, you were an enigma of sorts. You were like a ball of yarn, threaded with your secrets. And he was the cat, ever curious. Each thread that unravelled, satiated his curiosity, until he wanted more. Until he knew it was never going to be enough. It was more of a depraved hunger than anything, but you didn’t have to know that.

Minho had always considered his part-time job as a barista at the local café just as a way to spend his time wisely and earn some money. He did not expect the best people to be the customers, nor did he think the café was particularly interesting. It just…..was.

But that was his opinion before you came into the café.

The first time he’d seen you, you had ordered a milkshake and sat down at one of the tables, book in hand, the nearly empty café a reflection of your quiet, poised state.

When he’d come to serve your milkshake, you’d stopped reading your book, the original volume of Howl’s Moving Castle he’d observed, as he approached you.

You read his name off his name tag, gifted him, a complete stranger back then, a dazzling smile and said “Thank you.” with the calmest voice he’d ever heard.

He had been surprised. Not because you’d thanked him, more so because you stopped what you were doing just to acknowledge him and thank him, face to face.

He hadn’t known what to do. Receiving thanks or compliments had always been awkward for him.

And so he gave away his embarrassment with the tips of his ears glowing red, muttering something incoherent in reply, and your smile had become a little bit wider.

Just a little bit, but he’d noticed it.

That is how he remembers his first encounter with you, with him completely flustered by you and your bright smile.

ii.

After you had left the café that day, he had come in extra early to work every day, in hopes of catching you if you were an early riser. But to no avail.

After two days, he thought himself stupid. He barely knew you. And you would’ve probably forgotten his name, he reasoned with himself.

Still, his nights were filled with thoughts of you. He thought long and hard about you.

Did you thank everyone that way? Or was it just him you thanked that way?

He had hoped, foolish as it was, that it was the latter.

Had you found him attractive and hence given him your attention?

The question wasn’t entirely baseless. Lots of people frequented the café just to flirt with him. But he knew that it wasn’t the case, he would have remembered you if you’d come there before.

Would you come back again? Would he see you again?

And so, he’d tossed and turned. He couldn’t get his mind off you.

The two days turned into four weeks and the study group he was in at University, had set up a meeting at the music club.

When he’d asked Chan, the person who had organized everything, why they hadn’t set up the meeting in the University’s large library, the latter had unashamedly said that the library wouldn’t allow food in and hence the spot was selected.

Even on the walk to the meeting, Minho rolls his eyes.

The library would have been much quieter. With no rules to maintain silence, he had no idea how to protect his ears from his group of extremely loud friends.

He arrives minutes before the meeting. The tiny room was packed and he was already assessing the number of decibels emitted from the inside.

Taking a breath, he pushes the door open and walks inside. The entire study group had assembled for the first time, and there were a lot more people than he’d expected.

As soon as he sits down, Chan who had been chatting with someone next to him, turns and greets Minho. Minho nods in acknowledgement, looking away and that’s when he sees you for the second time.

You sit in a corner of the room, nose deep in a book, just like the first time he’d met you.

Today, you’re decked up in a long winter coat, and a lemon-coloured scarf wrapped around your neck.

Just like the first time, you’re smiling as you read your book.

Just like the first time, you manage to take his breath away.

And just like the first time, he doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to do.

Despite that, he knows that he might not have a chance to see you again and thus, musters up all his courage and approaches you, which is exactly when Felix decides to announce that he brought brownies for everyone. Minho has to clamp his mouth shut to stop a groan from escaping him.

Great, he thinks, now he would never ever have a chance with you again and he would die an old cat gentleman.

Even in his head, he thinks it sounds ridiculous. He reminds himself not to hang out too much around Hyunjin. The dramatics were rubbing off on him.

Shaking his head, he goes back to retake his seat when he notices Felix distributing scrumptious looking brownies (that he knew were delectable) to the large group of people, by himself.

He also notices another box, and maybe it is because he’s gotten so used to serving people, he takes the box up and starts distributing brownies to the other table.

Felix offers him a cheery thanks and Minho just waves him off.

When he gets to your table, Minho holds his breath. He expects you to have forgotten him, but you lift your head and say,

“Hey, Minho right? We meet again.”

and all the practice he’s given himself goes down the drain. Clearing his throat, he pretends he isn’t affected by the fact that you remember his name, and extends a brownie towards you. You look at his outstretched hand and take the brownie, and just as he’d predicted, you look up at him, still smiling, and gift him a:

“Thank you.”

He’s just as bothered, with the base of his neck going red at the words. However, in a burst of courage, he’s taking a chance with you just to lengthen the conversation.

“I’m not the one who made them, Felix did.”, he informs you and you tilt your head slightly.

“I know, I’ll thank him later.”, you reply, “I’m thanking you now.”

“Why?” he asks. He doesn’t know, why you did it. He wanted to know.

“Because”, you say, your words slow and deliberate, like you had all the time in the world,

“you could have let him distribute them to everyone, all the thirty five students, all by himself. It wouldn’t have been a big deal. But you chose to help him and give some of us a brownie, when you could’ve eaten yours first. So, thank you.”

He’s stunned. Both by the sincerity of your words and the honesty you delivered them with.

For a moment he stands there, absorbing your words. Before he can respond, one of them asks if they can have one more cupcake and he gets to his senses. You smile and wave him off.

The second time too, he thinks, was just as delightful as the first.

Maybe Chan chose the right spot after all.

iii.

Slowly, Minho eases his way into your life until you’re both latched together, like two sides of the same coin. He makes you milkshakes even when he’s not in the café and you smile and thank him for it, every time.

He’s grown used to your words of gratitude, but he knows that you don’t throw the words around lightly. So, he makes space in his heart for all your thank yous, and slowly learns how to respond to them too.

He wonders whether it is because you two aren’t close yet, that perhaps you feel the need to thank him for every little thing. He shrugs it off, feeling like you might stop your adorable habit once you fully get to know him.

But mostly, he wants you to stop looking at him and smiling at him like he’s the candle burning on your desk at dusk, the only source of light when you need it. Because, he feels like it might never be enough when he falls for you.

It was so easy to fall in love with you, your entire existence a balm to his soul effortlessly.

He thinks about it then, when he jogs to get you your water bottle from your bag, placed at the very end of the basketball court you were running in to get your daily laps in.

Just as he’d predicted, you tell him:

“Thank you.”

His chest feels too tight, like he’s been running for an hour, when he’s only been jogging for twenty minutes.

He wants you to stop.

He wants you to tell him those words for the rest of his life.

Minho feels like collapsing in the middle of the basketball court, to hit his head hard enough. Just so he can stop this heady feeling from consuming him whole.

iv.

Minho feels himself flying in love with you. Why? Because he sees you are already in love with him too.

It’s unmistakable in the way your eyes search for him whenever he comes into a room.

It’s in how you always try to say yes to all his plans even though he tells you it’s okay if you feel otherwise.

It’s in the way you smile at him, something only for him to see.

But mostly, he knows it because of your eyes. Your eyes light up at his arrival, and they are transparent pools of your love for him, as clear as daylight.

And that, he learns, makes all the difference.

Before you, Minho had a hard time trusting words.

Why?

Because they were grand and promising at first, but empty if they weren’t followed by true actions.

Most of the people early in his life only talked and talked, empty words with thoughts of what could’ve been, except they never were.

But with you, Minho knew they were true to their meaning.

He’d seen you bear the weight of them when you stayed behind for two hours in class to help a failing classmate.

He’d seen you fulfil them when you stayed up for hours writing something for the highest grade you had ever gotten, even if it was for extra credit.

He sees you stay true to them when you call your mom every single day like you’d promised, and when you call him without fail each time you go to the department store to ask him if he wants something.

All he sees is you.

You were an exception to his every agenda, every single time.

He has no complaints.

vi.

One week before the finals, you're holed up in your room, ignoring all his calls, and Minho knows what's up.

Your Psychology exams are what’s up.

He drops by to your place and lets himself in, shoes placed in your shoe stand, just the way you do it. Going in, he gives a shout to let you know of his arrival. You holler something back & he takes it that you know.

Wandering to the kitchen, he spots a fruit bowl. Thinking that you could use a snack after all the studying you've done, he takes a few oranges from it and heads to your room.

The sight of you hunched over your desk, buried in your books, your glasses barely hanging off your nose is what greets him.

For a moment, all of it ceases to exist except him and his thoughts and you.

He'd read all about the pinings of writers and poets who'd sworn that their lovers and muses were capable of taking their breath away at any time, even when they might look unflattering to the rest of the world.

Minho had disagreed. One had to look unpresentable when they were buried in work and gave no thought about maintaining their appearance, right?

Wrong.

He's rendered wrong.

So, so, wrong.

Because the sight of you then, bare-faced and bespectacled, puckered lips and furrowed eyebrows elicits an emotion he doesn't know how to name.

It's strong, this little feeling and every time you purse your lips or scrunch your nose, it grows stronger. He doesn't know what to do with the stubborn feeling, but he knows it's there to stay.

You were so engrossed in your reading that it took you a good three minutes to find out Minho was in the room.

After you do though, you abandon your textbook on the study desk and turn your attention to Minho.

“Oh hey. Need something?”

He chuckles, running a hand through his silky, wine-red strands as he takes you in fully, eyes subtle but greedy in their perusal of you.

“I should be the one asking you that, you being buried in work and all.”

He gestures to your growing pile of papers, notes, and books.

You let a whine in response.

“Don’t remind me of that. I’m taking a break. Seriously, I don’t get why I need to know the names of all the medical records used in the world. How am I supposed to treat other people, when I myself am slowly going insane?”

You punctuate your rambling by sinking further into your chair until it shakes.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. But he does know how to make you feel better, that’s one thing he prides himself in.

Coming to stand in front of you, he slowly reveals the arm behind his back and flourishes the oranges he’s fetched, like a magician exhibiting a miracle.

You’re a magician of your own, giving away one of your dizzying smiles that he can see in his head for days on end.

He slowly sits down on the floor, and starts peeling an orange. You join him and reach for one, but he swats your hand away. You frown, but abandon all thoughts of oranges when you remember your assignment, still very much unfinished.

You abruptly get up, startling Minho out of his trance. He flinches before glaring at you. You cheekily smile down at him.

“Sorry Min, I have to get this done before nightfall.”

“Okay.” He says, even as gets up to shove a piece of fruit in your mouth.

“Mo, yw don undastan-“

“Don’t talk while you’re eating.”

You glare at him, but do as he says.

Even in your disgruntled state, you manage a quiet “Thank you.”

You know how Minho left the comfort of his home just to come to cheer you up, even when he’s a homebody. And you’re grateful for it; you would’ve holed up in your room until you disintegrated into bits otherwise.

He just shakes his head.

Silence prevails in the room for a while, unless interrupted by the clicks of the keyboard and the quiet chewing as he feeds you slices.

“You don’t have to say thank you to me all the time, y’know?” Minho begins, leaning beside you on your mahogany desk.

You absently hum and finish typing the sentence. Only then do you fully process his words.

“Huh?”

“We’re friends now, or at least I think we are. So, you don’t have to thank me for every little thing. It feels like you’re being formal with me.”

This is the longest you’ve spoken with me, and it’s because of my thank yous. Isn’t that reason enough for me to tell you those words every time?

The words are at the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. They weren’t for now, this moment.

You just exhale and give his head a ruffle. He dodges it, and glares at you, reminding you of his cats.

Your mouth curves upwards.

“What are the words ‘Thank you’ for then?

I don’t think they exist just for a half-hearted appreciation for someone I barely know.

I think they exist so I can try and convey my gratitude to the people close to me. I won’t ever be able to fully convey the feelings in words, but I can try.

So think of each of my thank yous as a two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life.

Is that better?”

You duck your head down, shy after your sudden outburst of emotion.

I won’t ever be able to convey my gratitude fully, but I can try.

A two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life.

Good god, he believes you’re an angel at that instant.

You were ethereal in every way, whether that be the way you talked, the way you walked or the way you looked at him with thoughtful eyes, like he was the star in each one of your universes.

No ordinary person could be like that, could they?

He’s at a loss for words, like usual. And that doesn’t surprise you. He was a man of a few words anyway.

Stealing an orange slice, you get back to work.

This time, Minho thinks, even the word ‘delightful’ doesn’t cover it. He’s sure that no word can encompass even a sliver of your essence, except maybe the words ‘Thank you’.

And he hopes that now you’ll let him tell you that every single day.

© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration to character. They do not reflect the real people in any way.

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booksndpoetry · 1 month

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Of Blue Skies and Sparkling Eyes

A Kim Seungmin Fanfic

m.list

A/N: I don't know what prompted me to write this, this fic wrote itself, faster than my other ones. Maybe my bias is showing. It's embarrassing how I become shy, reading my own writing. Like what the heck!

WC: 2.09k words

Characters: All of Skz and their S/O's.

Genre: A little bit of angst, but mostly fluff

Triggers/Warnings: Mentions of overthinking and spiralling, implications of anxiety.

It was a pleasant day, the sky fully clear and the air cool. You weren’t surprised, you were in Paris, after all. You would believe anyone if they said that the weather was a reflection of your current mood, and you wouldn’t mind either.

You were meeting your friends, eight of your closest companions. Thinking about it, you laugh. With how much you know them, the word “friends” seems to poor a substitute to describe them. After a gruelling two years of being apart, the causes being responsibilities and work, all of you were finally going to assemble under one roof for the holidays. Even if all of you talked over the phone, it didn’t suffice.

God, you couldn’t wait. You missed your friends and their significant others too. You were surprised how quickly you bonded with all of your friends’ partners. Well, all except Seungmin’s, because he didn’t have anyone. Whether you were relieved or disappointed because it was only a matter of time, you didn’t know. Not then.

The moment you step into the vacation house that they’ve rented for the holidays, you're pulled into a hug by Chan, words unnecessary, and nothing matters except your little world. All of you retreat to the living room and they resume their game of Uno. You grin seeing Chan’s wife beat him minutes later, Felix and his girlfriend cackling with his defeat. Chan just meets your eye and smiles, looking to his wife. You smile back, and let them know that you’re going to freshen up. They wave at you and make your way down the long corridor, into one of the bedrooms, the door wide open.

Han, Hyunjin and their girlfriends are taking turns to paint each other’s’ nails inside and they’re having fun, judging by Han’s loud voice and the sounds of laughter. As soon as Han’s girlfriend spots you, she drags you in, and without even waiting for your greeting, takes your hand and begins painting your nails. She finishes in record time, and now your nails have a shiny coat of black, applied so neatly you know you won’t be able to apply it even with all your best efforts. Han splutters before saying, ”So you really do like her more than me. You didn’t even hesitate to ditch me when she came in” and dramatically starts sing “Goodbye, my love” and Hyunjin and Han’s girlfriend kick him from where they’re seated on either side of him on the bed. “Ow” he mutters, rubbing his side.

You giggle and fall into Hyunjin’s girlfriend’s lap and he sighs, “You’re really out here trying to steal all our girlfriends aren’t you?” he asks cheekily while his girlfriend hides her face behind him.

“I can’t help that I’m this charming now, can I?” you stick your tongue out childishly and get up patting the lap you were leaning on.

“I love you” you tell her, looking dead serious, “…more than I like him”.

“You little menace” he lunges, a minute too late as you throw yourself out that door and bolt towards the kitchen, which has been the biggest source of noise, since you’ve stepped foot into the house. Hyunjin thankfully gives up chasing you, and instead wraps his hands around his girl’s shoulders.

The kitchen was where actual chaos occurred. So, you weren’t surprised when Jeongin, his girlfriend and Seungmin are borderline being kicked out of the kitchen by Minho, while his fiancée tries to sneak in cookie dough for Changbin and his girlfriend behind his back. Minho stops pushing Jeongin, looks behind him and groans.

“There will be no more left if you do that. You’re supposed to be on my side”, he whines at her. You step in, already heady with the scent of the sugary treats wafting through the entire kitchen.

“Oh thank god you’re here.”, Minho says and pulls you until you’re left to stop Jeongin and his squad from stealing the cupcakes.

It’s a lost cause though, because you are no match for three people, two actually for, from the looks of it, Seungmin has stood still, like a statue.

You go forward and nudge him,

“Hey. You there” and he breaks out of his daze tickles you faster than you can blink.

Now you’re suddenly outnumbered six to one, Minho excluded. The guy was just happy his cookie dough was spared.

“Stop, stop-” you wheeze out between breaths, “Why can’t you guys just greet me normally for once? Every time I have to go through hell when we meet.”

But Seungmin doesn’t relent and neither do the five other people tickling you.

”And where’s the fun in that? It would get boring” he smiles mischievously.

After what feels like forever, they leave, bored after a while, and you breathe normally.

“Why am I the only one being bullied?” you ask, not at all bothering to hold in your whining.

“Because you haven’t gotten a boyfriend who can shield you from our tickling yet” Minho's fiancée says, and it scares you how eerily similar they are to each other.

Done with them already, you climb up the flight of stairs, until you reach the balcony, to get some fresh air. You push the doors open and breathe.

You weren't prepared to see him today, looking so good it hurt. That would explain your constricted chest and how you were not able to breathe properly since you saw him today.

Sitting down on the floor of the balcony, you push each of your legs in between the railings of the balcony and settle comfortably. The blue sky from earlier is still there, but now the sun is hidden under clouds. When you lean your head forward, and feel the cool metal,

Seungmin joins you, dangling his legs from the railings. You ask him how he had been, all the three months you couldn’t ask him that question, face to face. He tells you the days were so boring, he almost missed you and you hit him as he grins, wind ruffling his hair.

You talk and stop, and talk again, the conversation and the following silence comfortable, because it’s him and you have nothing to worry about except your painful knowledge of your love for him and how one question has been lurking in your mind all the three months you were away, and now he had changed. The question stays on the tip of your tongue and you bite down on it, hard enough to feel the coppery taste of blood in your mouth a little.

“You know”, you begin, unsure of how to say it but you try anyway. “They all glow, they’ve been glowing, they always do but even more so, with happiness from finding their people, you know? I guess that’s what happens when you fall in love.” You concede, looking at him.

Still unsure, you tread shyly, carefully landing your next words.

“However, I can’t shake the sense that, that you glow too….. even with no one by your side, yet.” you finish tentatively.

For a long while, neither of you say a word. But the quiet weighs down on you with each passing second and you don’t know what will become of you if it isn’t broken soon. The ticking seconds that pass by coincidentally draw a realization out of you, and you’re hit by an epiphany. Seungmin is in love. He hasn’t denied it, at all. Even in the past months when you’d only spoken to him over the phone, he seemed softer, more vivid. You’d almost driven yourself crazy trying to pinpoint what made him that way.

“Oh my god” you gasp, inhaling a big breath. “You’re in love.”

Seungmin just stays, eyes taking in the scene before him for eleven seconds, he counts, before he looks down at your eyes.

“Yeah”, he sighs softly. “I guess I am. I thought it wasn’t obvious” he laughs lightly, like he just read something off the back of a cereal box, and didn’t reveal an earth-shattering revelation.

You’re stunned beyond words. The Seungmin you knew wouldn’t have admitted to something so big, so easily, without persuasion. But maybe, it added to the fact that he really was down bad for that person.

“Oh”. After a beat, you speak again, ”Really?”. Your voice is small and you throat suddenly has a lump in it.

“Guess you are”. You keep talking, because if you don’t, you know the fraying threads holding your composure will stretch and break. If you are given so much as a moment’s silence to let his words truly sink in, it seems like they will end you.

With all the mental turmoil you’re going through, you miss the look on his face. The lovestruck expression, aimed at you. Suddenly he shifts and your eyes are on him, waiting and pleading for something you don’t know.

“It’s you”, he says after, gifting you with one of his rare smiles that threatens to split his entire face with the joy it’s trying to contain.

You didn’t realize how two words, only two words, strung together with less than ten letters, coming from one of the only people who matter, could build you and break you. You just sit there, being.

It’s not monumental, the moment. Cars drive by, birds chirp and the sun still shines on your beloved. But there’s a heightened awareness of everything. How you can physically feel your heart trying to escape the shackles of your chest. How the lump previously lodged in your throat has gone, leaving no mark except a dry aftertaste on your tongue. How Seungmin knows, that you love him too, without you physically trying to say it back.

And then the awareness fades, leaving you with joy. So much joy, that you think you’ll combust if you don’t relay it to him.

And so you do, and he lets you.

You take his face in your hands, admiring the gentle slope of his nose. The glasses atop it, barely hanging on. You adore, with all the time in the world, his brown irises filled with barely concealed love for you, and his lips. His enticing lips which tether you to the ground and make you soar above the sky with all the enchantments escaping them. He lets you come to a million realizations about a million things in that instant.

You kiss him tenderly, hoping and almost desperately, praying for him to feel the love you have, before it ends you. But somewhere, intermingled in that love and ecstasy, there was gratitude.

Thank you, you wanted to say. Thank you for being my person. Thank you for choosing me, over and over again. Thank you for agreeing to be mine, along with all the other countless wonderful things you are and will be. Thank you. Thank you, thank you thank you-

He’s Seungmin and he’s chosen to be yours and he understands. You know he does when he gathers you, holding the entirety of you, and brings you close until you can see the sparkles in the night reflected in them. You sit there, side to side, pressed up against each other, in the vicinity of him and his knowledge of your love and you of his.

Still, you’re restless and not entirely convinced and suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the urge to move and mess up the carefully crafted lines, the cage of your mind being too much for you, and maybe you need to tell him so he can brace himself and perhaps go away before it starts and-.

Seungmin’s hand settles on yours, resting on your thigh. It’s warm, you note, and a little bit sweaty. You smile in spite of yourself, thinking about a fumbling Seungmin, even if he was in the state for only a few seconds.

And you smile wider imagining the look that must have been on his face.

You giggle and freeze, your thoughts coming to an abrupt halt. Whatever had been haunting you, threatening to taint this moment, had dissipated. Seungmin had banished it.

Oh.

You will yourself to stop thinking for once, and interlace your digits with his long ones, and squeeze his hand.

He thinks life is worth living, if it’s going to be this way.

Slowly, you turn your head to his and look at him, properly this time. With no thoughts clouding your mind, you observe his sparkling eyes.

“I didn’t realize it was night already”, you say, not averting your gaze from his in the slightest.

Seungmin startles and looks at the sky. After a beat, he replies:

“It’s not.”

“It isn’t? Oh” you flush and look down, suddenly shy.

“Why’d you think so?”

“I got close to your eyes and saw stars in them. That’s why.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#+booksndpoetry #stray kids fanfiction #skz seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #stray kids #stray kids ot8 #stray kids x reader #stayblr #writing #skz imagines #skz #seungmin x you #seungmin x y/n #seungmin

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booksndpoetry · 27 days

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Letting Go

m.list

A Lee Felix Fanfic

A/N: Here it is, like I promised. Loads of thanks to the lovely @hyunverse for helping me proofread this, as well as for tolerating my rambling. This is my first real attempt at angst, so I'd love to know your thoughts about it. Happy reading!

WC: 4.5k words

Genre: Angst, fluff

Characters: Lee Felix, Female Reader, Tears, Bags of chips, Changbin, and the butt-hunters of Stray Kids.

Triggers/Warnings: Break up, Exes, Breakdowns, Heartbreak, and (Implications of) situational depression.

“When you love someone, you have to let them go. If they come back to you, they’re yours. If they don’t come back to you, they were never yours.” – Anonymous

You know he was lying just to protect you, but why did it hurt all the same? It was Felix you were talking about. It hurt because he’d never raised his voice while talking to you, even that time when you almost damaged his gaming console. Not even by an octave when he was upset or fazed.

And now he was yelling. You couldn’t help it. Fat, angry teardrops fell from your eyes. You didn’t want to cry, but your heart loved him a little too much to go down without a fight.

“Please don’t do this to me, to us. We can make it work. We will.” You were begging him at this point, but you couldn’t care less about it. You were willing to get on your knees if he would change his mind.

But Felix just roughly swallowed, his words forgotten. He couldn’t do it anymore, he told himself. Not when you were crying, begging for him to stop. You were his, and he was yours, he knew he’d be damned if he hurt you willingly. But he had to, there was no other plausible option when the both of you would never ask of the other to do something so …accommodating, like leaving one’s career for the other person.

You would never forgive yourself if he derailed his entire life, his passion just to be with you. And he knew. But it still hurt. That’s how pain is. It pricks you anew every time, even though you know what is it that’s going to happen. So, he bit the bullet and landed the final blow.

“But I don’t want to make this work. I don’t want to lead you on with false hope when I have no intention of returning” To you. The unspoken words rang clear in the air.

He whispered them like a forbidden curse, like a nightmare that cannot be controlled as it forcibly claws out sleep from the innocent hearts of children. You felt as though your entire being was doused in ice-cold water. That evening, you were anxious for the first time in years when he told you to meet him at an empty park, not at your home, to talk about something important. That anxiety grew stronger with his words, about how it was right all along regarding the fact that he was leaving you. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Felix, your soulmate, your one true person was leaving you because he had to move somewhere else where his work was entailed. It took a second to fully sink in, and when it did, you physically heard your heart shatter. Now you understand. Why he was so insistent on ending it? Because it was inevitable that it would end. He might have been the only person you envisioned yourself with in the future, but for him, you were only a memorable lover. Not easy to forget, but not impossible to move on from either.

“Okay,” you said, voice weak.

What else were you supposed to say? You’d promised to never come in the way of each other’s successes. You had to keep that promise, it was the only one that mattered now. Because it was the only promise still holding true, binding him and you when there was nothing else between you two.

“Okay,” you say again, voice unwavering this time. “I’ll let you go now” and you walk away, just as thunder sounds in the distance and raindrops start pelting down on you harshly, like a thousand arrows aimed to pierce you apart. But there was no need for that. You were already in shreds.

As you walk further, hands slightly shivering from the cold of the rain, you hear something faint. Felix was saying something. You turn around and he catches up to you, breathing heavily.

“At least let me take you home. You’ll catch a cold.” Your heart, your stupid, traitorous heart actually stutters for a second even though it was him who wrecked it.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in the scent of rain and him, for the last time.

“No Felix,” you tell him and he winces at the use of his full name. It sounded so distant, and joyless. “If I’m letting you go, let me do it fully.”

And as much as he would like to disagree and tell you to mull it over in the warmth of his car, he knows you need the space. So, he stays rooted on the spot, as you slowly turn around and go far away, until he can’t see you anymore. He stays where he is, to let you walk away from him. To let you think that you were leaving him and not the other way round, so you’d have a choice in this too.

He was so thoughtful, even in this, and you wanted to collapse and cry on the spot, with your tears camouflaged in the rain. You wanted to stay that way for as long as possible and just melt away. But you couldn’t. Your pride, something small and cracked from everything but still solid, wouldn’t allow for it.

No more damage, it said. But what’s left? You ask. Nothing. Everything’s gone, so why does it matter now? Why does anything matter now?

You don’t know how you make it back to your apartment. You don’t recall anything about your walk back home in the rain.

Going in, you settle on the marble floor and stare at the clock. It’s late, you note and get up to ready yourself for bed. You weren’t going to think, you’d done enough of that. Your brain would hurt if you did any more of it. Mechanically, you change out of your soaked clothes and get in the shower. The view of an array of his shampoo bottles is what greets you. Resisting the urge to stay in there, you quickly wash up with warm water that’s soft on your skin. You relish the comfort it gives you, if only for a few seconds. You get out and change into your nightwear. Brushing your teeth and washing your face, you’re careful not to face the mirror.

You can’t do it.

You make your bed and sink into it, but it feels too large, without him in it. No, you stop yourself. Dragging your thick comforter to the living room, you sit on the cold floor and lean against the wall. You can handle it, the cold numbing your feet. You weren’t sure if you could handle warmth, you’re afraid you’d succumb. And so, you sit there all night, crying, as you listen to your love go down with the rain.

The next morning is unpleasant but bearable. Your eyes are bloodshot, both from crying and from the lack of sleep. That and you can’t feel your feet. Last night’s haze has evaporated, leaving the rational you of the new day to deal with the aftermath.

You thank the heavens it is a Sunday. At least he broke your heart on a Saturday, to sober up and collect yourself for work on Monday. You bitterly chuckle. Growing up meant work was way more important than your broken heart because well, you were an adult and you had to suck it up and go on.

Life had a way of proving you wrong when you thought it couldn’t get worse. You hated everything in that moment, the sun shining brightly like your world hadn’t been torn apart, the noises of the people who carried on with their lives, the voices in your head telling you to do the right thing.

What was the right thing to do, when what you wanted didn’t exist? It was too much, and you let out a choked sob, tears running down your cheeks. Regulating your breathing, you were doing a lot of that, you calmed yourself down.

Despite your current state, you try to pick yourself up and try to go about your day normally. But it was a Herculean piece of work when he had embedded himself so deeply in all of your routines too.

When you both were together, you’d wake up and kiss him on the cheek if he’d slept over, or you’d send him a text wishing him a good morning. He’d then call you as you brushed your teeth and he did the same on his side. You’d talk about your plans for the day until you had to go get ready. You would have breakfast with him or send him a picture. Then, if he was feeling particularly energetic, he’d pick you up and drop you off at your workplace. When you came back home, he’d be there to welcome you, to the home in his embrace. How would you forego all of that, years of routine, and go about normally? You didn’t think you had the strength it required.

I’ll be okay on my own, I always have been, you remind yourself. You decide to focus on one thing at a time. You brush your teeth, and after you’re done, you look at yourself in the mirror. The person staring back at you was someone new, someone unfamiliar. Someone you had wished to never meet. But you faced yourself. It was progress compared to yesterday.

After washing your face, you turn your attention to your hair. Blowing out a breath, you remind yourself that punishing yourself wouldn’t help, in any way. Slowly, with patience you didn’t know you possessed, you began untangling the strands. Every time you feel like tugging at your scalp until you bled, you slow down and deliberately brush your hair with uncharacteristic gentleness. Breathing in and out, you finally managed to untangle all the knots and pulled your hair into a neat ponytail. What was next? Food. Right, you needed food. And so, you got to work.

You work task by task until you feel pieces of you returning, making their way back to you. Some pieces are stubborn and don’t give in. You manage to put yourself back together, and you want to cry all over again. Not over him, but the fact that it took you an entire day to come back to yourself, after so long. You sober up and feel yourself craving snacks. You’ve always been responsible and very meticulous, thinking hard about each decision big or small. But then, you decide to be impulsive for once, to make yourself happy, no matter how small the happiness, and you grab your keys.

Dressed in pyjamas and a puffer jacket to keep out the cold, you enter the convenience store and quickly pick up some snacks. As you go to the checkout line, you find Changbin, one of Felix’s best friends.

“Hey you”, he greets you enthusiastically and you realize that Felix must not have told him about you two. You don’t know whether to feel grateful or saddened.

“Hello Changbin” you greet him back, and he asks you about your choice of snacks. Soon, easy laughter is shared between the two of you and he tells you he needs to hurry home.

“I have to go pack, but text me later, okay?” he tells you, eyes suddenly intently watching you, and you know he suspects something.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with him, considering we’ll be taking off in such less time?” and you sigh, having expected it. “We parted ways,” you tell him, not having the courage enough to say that you two had broken up because saying those words felt real.

Changbin understands, and he squeezes your arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m always here if you need me, okay?” he tells you and you feel like crying, again, because he’s being so nice to you. You assure him that you will contact him later and go back home.

You let out a long breath, just the thought of starting all over tomorrow felt like hell. You give in to sleep, as a certain person keeps appearing to haunt you even in your dreams.

The next morning you wake up and do the same thing, all over again. Days pass by, and your nightmares become less frequent and you get enough sleep. Some days, you can confidently look yourself in the mirror, other times you can’t even lift your head. Still, you get better each day, the ache in your chest fading to a numbness that won’t go away.

Five months, that’s the amount of time it takes you to go an entire day without thinking about him. But him, oh he wasn’t even trying to go a day without thinking about you. He didn’t want to.

From the moment you left him, taking his heart with you, he was destroyed. He thought the miles of distance between the two of you would make it easier to stay apart. He was wrong. Every day, he cracked a little, all his love that he had kept just for you, chipped until it was a semblance of what it was. His friends, especially Changbin urged him to try talking to you again, but he refused.

“She hates me, hyung. I don’t think she wants to talk to me after everything.” Changbin could only watch helplessly as his two best friends struggled.

-2 Months later-

You had become a workaholic, with nothing else other than work to engage you and keep you distracted, and it had paid off in ways. You got a promotion, to a position you could only dream about before, but you’d worked harder than ever to achieve it. However, one thing that came with the position was the numerous galas and parties that you had to attend.

You initially thought it would be fun to dress up nicely and meet new people, but reality was quick to burst your bubble. You had to engage with all sorts of people, even some who didn’t work in your fields, which led to lots of awkward conversations, and random creeps whose personalities were not half as interesting as your neighbourhood’s resident cat. It was tiresome in ways that sometimes you had to take a plane just to attend a stupid party and socialize when all you wanted was to snuggle into your bed and not meet people for another week.

Now, you had another party to attend, except it was being held in Korea, and you had to fly all the way in a single day after your work was finished.

Stepping out into the airport, you quickly unlock your phone and text Changbin. He was the only one you could rely on, especially when you didn’t know the language all that well. He had kindly agreed to help you navigate your new surroundings. Except he didn’t tell you that he’d be bringing Felix along. The guy had hoped that an impromptu meet would lead to the two of you resolving your (still very much alive) feelings. What he didn’t expect though, was for the freckled guy to flee.

Felix had no idea as to who Changbin wanted to pick up but reluctantly tagged along when the latter had asked him, persistently. His breath is knocked out of his lungs after seeing you for the first time in 7 months and 2 days. Was he counting? Yes. Did he care that it made him look like a lovesick idiot? Hell no. You hadn’t noticed him yet, busy animatedly explaining something to Changbin. The moment he sees you, his first instinct is to tug you into his arms and rest his face in the crook of your neck. But he stops himself. He couldn’t even greet you, he didn’t think he would survive seeing the hate in your eyes directed at him, so this time he runs.

Changbin has a suspiciously bright smile aimed at you when he meets you at the airport. He grins so much, you stop even as he keeps walking forward, unaware that you’re no longer walking with him. When he realizes that you’re not walking with him, he turns around and scowls.

“Hey, you can’t abandon me in my own country,” he says dramatically. You roll your eyes,” Try me.” You challenge and his scowl deepens.

“Now, cut to the chase and tell me why you’re smiling”.

Changbin swears that it’s nothing but after a minute of your intense staring, he breaks and smiles bashfully, “There’s someone I want you to meet-“

“I knew it! You had that shit-eating grin on your face and I suspected something. I’m not socializing with more than twenty people in the next two days, thank you very much” you quip before he can go on and on.

He snorts at your comment. “Oh come on, he’s handsome.”

“SO WHAT! So are you and you’re being extremely annoying. My eardrums need a break” you say, more to fluster him and get him to shut up rather than to stroke his ego and keep struggling to get out of his plans.

“Nice try, but just for that I’ll buy you breakfast, to avenge myself” he says, eyes crinkling.

“Can you avenge yourself all the time?”

“Oh for heavens’ sake.” He mutters and you giggle.

Even when you step out of the airport terminal, Changbin keeps looking everywhere, like he’s searching for someone. “Who is it?” you ask, and he sighs “No one.”

You get to your hotel room, and relax, trying to ignore the jet lag and not fall asleep. You successfully manage to do so by busying yourself with more work and the evening rolls by, faster than expected.

You pick out a casual ribbed, black dress and some earrings and call it a day. The company had provided a driver who took you to the venue. Unsurprisingly, it was held in a hotel whose hall was large enough to qualify as a ballroom.

Stepping in, you think to yourself ‘Let’s get this over with’. Before you know it a familiar pair of muscled arms pulls you in and you laugh.

“Hello to you too”. Changbin escorts you over to his team, whom you’ve met a couple of times. Except they’re still as unhinged, in the middle of a business party, talking about …whose butt was better to slap? You stop yourself there.

Felix had come over, intending to speak to you, but his throat ran dry upon taking a glance at you. Holy fuck! You were breathtaking, and suddenly he had no memory of what he wanted to say to you. Seeing you laugh and make small talk with his team, his heart swelled, but you didn’t glance at him. At all. Not even once in passing.

You on the other hand were hyperaware of his presence near you. Suddenly your skin was on fire, his gaze never leaving you. You knew he was watching you, and you let him.

Felix realized that it was the first intimate moment you’d shared in months, just you and him, no one else existing then. He comes forward and puts his hand out for you, but just that second you turned around the corner to greet someone else.

He’s hurt by your actions. There was no need for you to have done that. His mind reasons that you probably didn’t want to talk to him, but he just couldn’t stomach the hurt.

For the second time when he sees you, Felix runs. But this time you catch him in the act. He discreetly excuses himself and gets to the entrance, but you follow closely behind him.

Felix bolts through the set of wide oak doors at the entrance of the hall and doesn’t stop even when his lungs start burning. He keeps going until he hears a faint voice which sounds like …yours. And he stops.

“Christ, I’m not athletic enough for this” you mumble trying to catch your breath, and he laughs.

He full-on laughs until his head is thrown back and his hands clutch his stomach. He laughs so much tears stream down his face.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at me, it’s difficult to run when you’ve eaten two bags of chips by yourself on the same day” you attempt to explain, and he understands your need to deflect with humour and he turns around.

“Felix” you call him again, and despite you calling him by his full name, unlike last time there’s a trace of warmth in it. He clings to that warmth like it’s his lifeline as he wipes his face with his slender fingers. Your eyes follow the movement like nothing ever happened between you.

Felix grins at you, his face transforming with the curve of his lips. Not finding any hate or hurt in your eyes, he visibly relaxes. After both of you are breathing normally, less than six steps between the two of you, he summons his courage and asks you the one question he’d been itching to ask you for months.

“How have you been?”.

How have you been? You think back to the months you’d suffered and the predicament you’re in.

“I’ve been well”

He looks down at your reply, eyes shining with tears. “Wish I could say the same.”

He smiles again, but it’s full of sadness. You want to kiss it away until he never feels the same way again.

“But above everything, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I’m sorry it had to end that way, even if I didn’t want it to end. I’m so fucking sorry love.” He says, lovingly explaining to you even though he didn’t have to, trying to be gentle, and unknowing tears stream down your cheeks at the endearment.

“You’ve done nothing wrong to me, which is why it makes it so much harder for me to accept the fact that we-we have-“ he stops, hand raised to his mouth, muffling his words as he cries harder.

“You broke me to pieces without meaning to, because you were doing what’s right for yourself; by leaving someone who wasn’t right for you. By leaving me.” You smile sadly at his words.

“You were the best, God, I thought I didn’t deserve you. You were it at one point, you know?” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I don’t like how you used past tense there. It makes it hurt much more and makes things… worse. It makes things so much more real.”

“Yeah well, it’s the truth,” you say bitterly and at that point, the clock strikes twelve and you’re reminded that you have to go back to your hotel, except you’re no Cinderella and he’s not your prince who can come after you.

“This is it then, I guess. I’ll see you around Felix” you finish, as your heart sinks at the fact that he didn’t even protest at your words.

Maybe it was all in your head, maybe you were assuming, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Your heart beats alarmingly fast at the last thought, feeling it slowly come true. Felix just raises a hand and waves you off in a soundless goodbye, a spring in his step, that you eye before you turn your back and go. Unbeknownst to you, he walks briskly until he reaches a corridor no longer visible to you and he runs, but this time, he’s running to you.

You go back home and try as you might, you can’t sleep. The thoughts in your head, which you’d buried down months ago, surface and leave you anxious. You wake up hours before your alarm and finally conclude. You are still very much in love with the guy who once baked you brownies in the middle of the night because he hadn’t been able to in the morning. The same guy who had taken a piece of you and had never returned it.

Fuck your pride, you were both adults, if you want to, you can try.

After an hour of rehearsal, you finally pick up your phone with shaking hands when there’s a knock on your door. You open it and immediately think ‘What a pleasant surprise’ because in front of you is a (once-again) sweaty Felix who looks like he’s been running.

“Let me in, the hotel staff are chasing me.” You laugh and pull him inside, shutting the door.

Felix properly looks you in the eye and he smiles, unhesitatingly saying the words he came to say to you.

“I came here to ask you to give me another chance.”

“But I’m not sure if you do, Felix. What changed?” you ask, your face neutral, even as butterflies go into a frenzy in your stomach.

Once is a mistake, twice is a choice, and you’d be damned if you let him break your heart again.

“Well, I want to make it work this time. Every time. You’re it for me, and I was reminded of it yesterday. I’ll fix it, all the parts I broke and I vow to never break them willingly again. If I do, punish me to spend all of eternity with you, grovelling for my mistake. Do we have a deal?” he spills in one breath, his eyes shining, the same eyes which brought twinkling lights into your life again.

You don’t hesitate this time. “We do.” You whisper, careful not to disturb the tranquillity of that moment. And he comes closer.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, as he brings his thumb to rest on your lower lip, the cool metal of his rings, leaving you shivering. “Yes.” You whisper.

And yet he keeps staring at you. “What? Are you not going to kiss me now? Have you forgotten?” you tease him lowly, and his answer leaves you breathless.

“I am, but before that, I’d like to show myself everything I’ve been missing out on.”

His lips meet yours and it is the Fourth of July again, as he kisses you like a man starved. He chases your lips, uncaring of all the breaths you had to take, chests touching until you can feel each other’s heartbeats. When you finally come up for air hands pushing against his chest, he brings you closer by your waist.

“Hello,” he says like he’s seeing you for the first time again, both your foreheads touching. “Hi” you say, unable to hide your excitement.

“I’m home, love.” he announces, “And I’m never going away again.”

“Promise?” you hold out your little finger.

“I promise” his digit curls around yours and you acknowledge how happy that sight leaves you.

“You’re right. I would”

“I’m happy if you are, but first let’s get breakfast.”

“I’m swooning here and you dare to feel hungry?”

“You can swoon over me all you want when we’re both stuffing ourselves with food.” You sigh, and he knows he’s got you.

“That was the excuse I was going with if you were to shut your door on me. Food.” He confesses, eyes caressing your face tenderly.

“…You really think that I, a perfectly moral person, would stoop that low just for food?”

“Yeah”

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#+booksndpoetry #straykidsland #stray kids #skz felix #skz fanfic #felix x reader #skz imagines #skz #stayblr #stray kids lee yongbok #felix x y/n #writing #felix x you #romance one shots #fictional characters #skz felix fluff #fluff #angst

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booksndpoetry · 1 month

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The Tortoise and The Hare

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A/N: Something I wrote while listening to the Stray Kids song, 'The Tortoise and the Hare' and wanted it to be sweet but now I don't know what this is.

WC: 292 words.

Characters: Seo Changbin X Gender-Neutral Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humour

Warnings/Triggers: None I can think of- Oh! Changbin's biceps.

You squint and glare at your boyfriend, from your seat across the living room, both from being interrupted from reading a really good fic, and the fact that he basically roasted you after referring to you as the hare from the popular story.

“You know”, Changbin begins, “If we were animals, you’d be a hare, and I’d be a tortoise.”

“Please elaborate.” You give him a sickly-sweet smile while crumpling the empty paper cup you had just finished drinking from. Aggressively, to make sure he hears it.

“Looking at it, you’re always chasing words and running so fast. Sometimes you run so fast I almost feel like I might lose you out of my sight. But, I’m a tortoise. And I’m nothing if not a winner. I will always be there to catch you. The world is round, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you just said something so sweet and here I was ready to throw hands with you”, you offer him a grin and saunter up to him to feel his arms. They feel nice. Amazing actually.

“Sometimes, I think you spend time with me just for my arms.” He rolls his eyes.

“Wait, only sometimes? You should know me better than that. I always spend time with you just for your arms.”

He shoves you off him like you’re nothing but a stick, and you fall from the couch. His eyes widen, and he immediately scrambles towards the door, holding it in front of him like a shield. You slowly stalk towards him, and he bolts out the door. Maybe you really were a hare, and he was about to be your prey.

“Hares are herbivores, right? Please don’t kill me.” Changbin yells, even as he runs farther from you.

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#+booksndpoetry #straykidsland #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #skz changbin #changbin x reader #changbin x y/n #changbin fluff #fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #writing #stayblr #writeblr

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booksndpoetry · 1 month

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Numbers at 2:00 a.m.

A Lee Felix Fanfic

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A/N: Nothing quite like a midnight snack, if you ask me. Reblogs are appreciated .

Characters: Lee Felix X Gender-Neutral Reader

WC: 420 words

Genre: Fluff

Triggers/Warnings: Implicit mentions of Insomnia

Felix woke up quite abruptly due to the lack of warmth, and pulled the blanket up to his neck. Sticking an arm out, he felt the bed only to be met by empty space. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, he read the time to be exactly 2 a.m. in the morning. He groaned, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep without a certain someone.

Accepting his fate, he got up from the bed, wrapping the duvet around himself like a cloak and marched forward towards the kitchen.

You sighed, rolling your shoulders and stretching your neck. You had fallen asleep after struggling to do so for a good 4 hours. Along with which, the position you’d fallen asleep in was not feeling good for your spine. Still, nothing quite like a midnight snack to revitalize yourself.

You’d rummaged through all the cabinets in the kitchen, even the ones with too many spoons and chopsticks, to find something edible but to no avail. At last, you’d found a loaf of bread and a bar of chocolate. Eyeing the microwave oven, you’d set to work determined to feed your stomach. Sandwiching the bar of chocolate between two slices of bread, you plated it, set it inside the microwave, and set the timer to 120 seconds. As the timer started, unconsciously you started counting too.

“일, 이, 삼, 사, 오, 육, 칠, 팔, 구, 십. 십일, 십이, 십삼, 십사…”

Felix, having materialized at the entrance of the kitchen, fondly looked at you before advancing. Coming closer, he heard what was like barely coherent counting. But only when he drew closer, did he realize that you were counting, in Korean.

“Hey baby”, he whispered softy, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“What are you counting to?”.

Startled, you quickly turned around only to relax upon sensing him.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” you asked him, leaning further into his hold.

“Well, someone decided to sneak out of bed, leaving me cold”, he playfully glared at you.

“Why are you counting in Korean though?”.

“Oh, well I wanted to learn it, because then, I could understand you better. Besides, my tutor told me to count in my target language so I could learn it faster.”

“You’re so precious” he told you, eyes glazing over.

You only smiled in response, before stepping out of his hold, to retrieve your midnight feast and hold it out like a peace offering.

“Wanna share?” My love & my heart, you wanted to say, but the words didn't quite make it past your lips.

But Felix smiled a knowing smile, “Thought you’d never ask”.

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#+booksndpoetry #stray kids fanfiction #skz felix #felix x reader #felix x y/n #stray kids #skz fluff #fluff #stayblr #skz imagines #writing

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booksndpoetry · 1 month

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Wristwatches and Hand Kisses

A Lee Minho Fanfic

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A/N: Comments are welcome :)

Characters: University Student Lee Minho X Female Reader, along with a certain wristwatch.

WC: 1.6k words

Genre: Fluff

Triggers/Warnings: Too much fluff

Swinging your hands together, you joyfully skipped along the busy street with your best friend and roommate, Lee Minho after a long and tiring week of university as well as long hours in your part-time job. Not that it was very eventful, but because it was normal. It was normal for the both of you to hold hands like it was no big deal to you. It was very normal to long to spend time with your best friend and roommate, because you were in love with him who, very conveniently, didn't believe in love.

Smiling so hard your cheeks hurt you kept walking and unbeknownst to you; Minho secretly stole glances at your giddy smile. He couldn’t help it, the yearning expression on his face. Yearning for what? He didn’t know, at-least not yet. Despite the occasional stares from people at your boisterous figures, you prodded along to find what you both had come for:

To find a gift for cupid. No, not the real guy, but the matchmaker/ best friend who had coincidentally introduced the both of you to each other. The legendary Han Jisung. It was only proper that he be paid his respects, in the form of his birthday gift. And so, the both of you went searching to find something that would catch his eye.

About fifteen minutes later, you arrived at a small knick-knacks shop after finding “the gift”. Whilst paying, the shopkeeper asked you both if you’d like to check out the watches and without waiting for an answer, dramatically flourished around to reveal a secret rotating watch display.

“Watches?”, you whisper-yelled.

Minho smiled, caressing your hand. He knew watches were your favourite accessories. Besides, looking down at your intertwined hands, he realized your hands looked a bit empty after losing your beloved former watch to damage. And by damage, he referred to the time you had carelessly broken into a dance while eating that one time, because your fries were so good. The dancing in question being so aggressive, that the loosely tied watch was sent flying out the café-window and that was the last that was ever seen of it. In your defence, the meal was too good to be eaten sitting still, but that was up for debate.

How you survived sometimes, and were still alive, the both of you hadn’t a clue.

Amidst all thoughts he was having about your watch, you were internally freaking out, all your thoughts about watches long gone. He was caressing your hand. Your hand. You were on fire, each caress of his thumb sending sparks up your arm. “I am a rock”, you thought to yourself. “I am a rock who feels nothing.” It didn’t work, unsurprisingly.

Meanwhile the shopkeeper was standing awkwardly in front of you both, unsure of what to do after trying to call your attention twice. Minho was the first to snap out of it, and pinched your arm.

“Ow, what was that for, you jerk?” you yelped, rubbing your arm. And here your heart was fluttering over him.

Rolling his eyes, he nudged you gently, “Pick a watch.”.

“I don’t-“ you started, but he shut you up as per usual. “I’m not asking dummy. Pick one”.

He had an annoying talent of being nice while managing to be mean. Huffing in annoyance, you let your eyes skim over the display.

The watches were of all kinds, surprisingly of a large variety for a small shop. You certainly didn’t mind. Your fingers gently brushed on the watches. Some were made of ceramic, others of painted metal. Some have metal clasps and others magnetic straps. You insisted that you were just looking, but Minho gave you a look that said, “You literally earn money Woman. I will buy it for you if you let me to. Gladly.” But you pointedly ignored that look and explored.

After begrudgingly agreeing that you’d get one, you selected one. A navy watch with a slim, wide face and magnetic straps. But you didn’t trust the magnetic straps and changed your choice, thrice (“I panicked!”, you replied after he shot you his deadpan expression) before finally settling on one. It was a silver hue, its face embedded with crystals. The interface of it was black too. “Perfect”, you thought. ”It’ll go well with any colour.” But the process of getting the watch was a tad bit more lengthened. Since your wrists were so thin, you had to get two of the chain’s clasps off for it to fit you.

Minho laughed maniacally while you struggled to secure the watch and not having it slide across to your forearm. Giving him a pointed look, you flailed helplessly until the shopkeeper kindly helped you out. After the shopkeeper finally adjusted it and put it on you, you beamed. Now all was left was to pay. But your beloved Minho would not let you. Claiming that you never gave him a chance to pay you back for all the meals you treated him to, he brought out his puppy eyes, the look you could never resist and you sighed, giving in.

After paying for your watch, the shopkeeper clasped the watch onto your wrist. Minho was glad he got to buy it for you. It was a watch you’d selected and he’d paid for. On all the days you’d spent together, you were insistent on paying for the both of you or, in the least, splitting the bill. So it was with surprise that you let him pay for you, that he paid for your watch. Meanwhile, you were internally berating yourself. “Seriously, that’s all it took for me to break?” you lamented. How he still did not know you were in love with him, you didn’t know. But you hoped to keep it that way.

Minho took it upon himself to initiate holding hands on the way back home. You were taken aback because he was never one to initiate affection first, even shied away from it sometimes. Slowly, like a butterfly perching on a newly-bloomed flower, a heartwarming realization settled in your chest. He was growing comfortable to be affectionate, he knew you wouldn’t judge him. Suddenly your heart was glowing as bright as a glass jar full of fireflies. Scared that if you broke the silence, the moment would cease to exist, you quietly revelled in it.

Minho was quite happy in the silence too. He realized how nice it was to be around you, even in silence. He remembered that song lyric, “There’s something more precious than words in our relationship”. He simply couldn’t stop smiling. Engrossed in each of your own worlds, you finally reached your magnificent abode (“Humble abode” was getting a bit old). “Ah! There’s nothing quite like going on home with your beloved after braving the day’s events” he relaxed. "Even if said beloved is oblivious about your infatuation?”, his brain quipped. “Oh Shut Up”, he thought to himself.

Breaking the silence he asked you “Are you not looking forward to the destination comrade?” he questioned dramatically.

You sighed again, “I would’ve, if you had let me pay. But anyway, the watch is so pretty, isn’t it?”. You coyly put your watch out on display to him, delighting in it like a starry-eyed child.

He found you adorable. Raising your hand, he seemed to inspect it before lowering your knuckles. “Everything looks good on you. But since you let me pay for it, it has come to my notice that the watch is quite magnificent. It suited you after all, didn’t it?” he raised a brow as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Getting flustered, you dragged him along so he couldn’t see your shy gaze.

Sometimes, when he made off handed comments like these, you didn't know whether you wanted to be only a friend to him. But a cliche never really gets old, does it?

After finally reaching home, your shared apartment, Minho immediately went into the kitchen to make dinner. You were extremely hungry. And so, you went to the kitchen and asked what you had to do, whilst trying to be helpful, trying. Sure, you wouldn’t burn down the kitchen, but nothing you made would be remotely edible either. Minho brought out an apron, something pink and filled with strawberries, and tied it to your waist. Your breath hitched at the proximity and the touch. The tension would've lingered if not for his next words.

“Welcome maiden, I now proclaim you the sous chef of this restaurant” he gave a deep bow and looked you straight in the face seemingly unaffected, unlike you.

You held your composure for an impressive sixty seconds before you burst out laughing. In moments like these, you got why you both were such close friends, despite the short time you’d known each other. You were both extremely dramatic. You couldn’t hold in your laughter for the life of you, especially if the Minho was saying all of that with a straight face. The Lee Minho whose glare could melt glaciers. Luckily, it was pushed aside in favour of making supper.

Minho was visibly sulking though, he was trying to get your attention and all you were thinking about was FOOD?

Noticing his expression, you nudged his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”.

He didn't even hesitate, “I'm entertaining you with my elite humour and all you think about is FOOD? You ungrateful brat”.

You weren't annoyed, it was him after all. He was the literal personification of a cat. “Well, I can't help that your cooking is so damn delicious now, can I?”, you grinned.

His eyes softened. Goddammit, he couldn't even pretend to be mad at you. Just what was this feeling? Suddenly you remembered you hadn't off your watch yet. “No, keep it on” he said. “For now” he finished, when he really meant “For Me”. The sight of your wrist adorned by your watch was too pretty to pass up.

“Okay” you agreed, not thinking too much.

The rest of the night was spent in stuffing your faces full with food and gleeful laughter, in the lovely vicinity of the moonlight.

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