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mrworldwideshoulders · 2 years

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Absolute Zero || reader x JHS

Pairing: reader x JHS (kinda sorta not really? you’ll see); feat. Yoongi, Jin, JK, and Taehyung (very briefly) Word count: 5.5k Rating: rated M / R Genre: angst, smut (if you squint), breakup au Summary: Everyone thinks he’s crazy for still being hung up on you after this long, but he can’t stop thinking about the one who got away, spending his nights writing letters he’ll never send and words you’ll never read. Inspired by Talking to the Moon - Bruno Mars. Warnings: very angsty; you might cry a lil bit, strong language probably, implied smut/sexual content, alcohol consumption. A/N: hellooooo I am very excited to share my first fic with you! I love this one so much, like really, so much. It’s one of my favorites and idk if you can tell but I’m really proud of this one. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing, and let me tell you, I really enjoyed writing it. tell me your thoughts in the notes; I'd love to hear em! please be gentle though T_T shoutout to my bestest pal and actual sister @onmypillow-onmytable for this excellent banner and for beta-reading! Thx! ly - robyn P.S. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars, lol, they simply inspire me.

part of the Hooligans collection

inspo playlist here

absolute zero: the lowest temperature that is theoretically possible, at which the motion of particles that constitutes heat would be minimal.

Dear y/n,

I keep asking myself why you left, and nothing I can come up with makes any sense. All I ever did was love you, y/n. What about that was so wrong? I know it wasn’t part of the agreement we had, but I never planned it this way. I couldn’t help my feelings. You have to understand that, y/n. I never wanted to push you away. I wanted to keep you close, and I couldn’t even do that.

I can’t stop myself from thinking about you every day. Wondering where you are. Where you went. What you’re doing. Your number doesn’t work. Your email’s been deactivated. It’s almost as if you’ve dropped off the face of the planet, y/n. Is that where you are? Outer space? You might as well be, as far as I know. I hope you’re doing all right, wherever you are. I don’t think I could live knowing something terrible happened to you. Maybe not knowing anything is better. Take care of yourself, y/n. Until we meet again.

Love always,

Hoseok

Hoseok blinks awake, startled out of a fitful sleep by some unconscious sensation of falling in a dream, stopping suddenly before he can hit the ground. They say dreams where you’re falling always stop before you can hit the ground, something about how if you die in a dream you die in real life too. He wishes the dream wouldn’t have stopped, wondering what it feels like to slam into hard ground, to shatter into a million little pieces, not knowing if someone will come along to sweep him up into a dustpan and piece him back together. He’s not familiar with the sensation. He only knows falling, perpetually, waiting in suspended animation, never reaching the ground. He reaches out a hand, only to find the spot next to him desolate and empty, illuminated in cold, bluish moonlight. The memories come rushing back to him all at once: the same vacant space where you used to sleep, of waking up alone, the same harsh moonlight spotlighting his solitude, a pale white envelope on the pillow next to him. His name, written on the outside in your delicate hand.

Hoseok, you wrote,

I know about the ring, and I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. You never even had to say it. It’s written all over your face every time I look at you: you love me. And you want to marry me. The wedding, the kids, the happily ever after, you want it all. You want too much from me, Hoseok, and I can’t give it to you. Our arrangement was simple: no feelings, no strings, no expectations. It was never supposed to go this far. I let my guard down too much, and I've already let you have too much of me. It was cruel of me to do that. I should have turned you down from the moment you asked me to dance because I knew in my heart I was only ever going to break yours: your sweet, gentle, loving heart. That moment, when you smiled at me and told me your name - that was it. I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t hold myself back.

I know it makes me a coward to do this while you’re asleep, but I can’t bear to see your face when I tell you I’m leaving, Hoseok. Consider this my first and last act of love. Please don’t come looking for me, because you won’t be able to find me. We won't meet again. You’re a good man, and you deserve someone who wants the same things as you, someone who can make you happy. That can never be me, and I’m sorry. I hope you find her one day. She'll be a lucky girl, whoever she is, to have landed a man like you. Treat her well. I know you will. I hope she does the same for you.

Do you know what the saddest part of this is? I think I really could love you someday.

Sweet dreams, Hobi.

-Y/n

He drags himself to his feet and crosses the room to the dresser, where he pulls out a small black velvet box and flicks it open. The platinum-diamond setting, costing a little more than three months’ worth of his paycheck, glitters in the moonlight with an unearthly sort of beauty. He’d never even gotten the chance to give it to you, only ever showing it to his best friend after he’d bought it. “Do you think she’ll like it?” he’d asked.

“Well, I mean, I’d say yes if you proposed to me with this,” Yoongi had said. “But…are you sure about this? Didn’t she tell you she didn’t want any hangups?”

Hoseok closes the box with a snap and drops it back into the drawer. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to get rid of it, thinking somehow he might need it again when you finally return. He heads out onto the balcony, pen and paper in tow. The air is quiet, the world below still tucked under the dark covers of somewhere just after midnight, when the full moon is at its brightest.

Dear y/n,

It’s a full moon tonight. I never thought about them before I met you, they were all just something that happened in the background. You always reminded me when they were supposed to happen, and you told me they all meant something different depending on the month. I think it was the cold moon when you left. It’s May now, that’s the flower moon. It doesn't really matter anyway. Every full moon feels cold to me now. It’s stuff like that I can’t forget, you and the names of those moons. Can you see the moon from where you are? Is your moon the same as mine? Nights like these are when I miss you the most, y/n, when the full moon rises and you’re not here in my arms. It’s starting to get warmer now, but everything still feels cold without you. You said you thought you could love me one day, y/n. Why didn’t you stay and find out? I just can’t wrap my head around it. I have all of these questions and I don't know if I'll ever find answers. I wish you had stayed, at least long enough to explain it to me.

Take care of yourself, y/n. Until we meet again.

Love always,

Hoseok

He meets up with his best friend for lunch the next day, though he doesn’t do much except pick at his food. Yoongi watches him intently, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Aish, just leave it if you’re not going to eat it,” he says, frowning.

Hoseok sets down his chopsticks and shifts his gaze to stare out the window. Food doesn’t hold much appeal for him anymore, not since you left. Nothing does, really.

“What do you think about going on a blind date?” says Yoongi. “I was talking to one of the waitresses at that new club I was spinning at last week. She’s pretty, seems nice. Seems like you two have a lot in common. I think you might hit it off. I’ll give her your number if you want, next time I’m over there.”

The idea of meeting someone new is almost too much to consider. How could he even think about going out with someone else when you might come back any day now? Hoseok shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Thanks, but…I can’t right now.”

Yoongi sighs and goes silent for a moment. “It’s been six months since she left. You can’t go on like this forever. It’s delusional."

He shrugs, smiling sadly. “Not yet.”

His mother is there when he gets home, the only person other than you and his best friend who knows his apartment code. She comes by almost every other weekend to fill up his refrigerator with leftovers and side dishes, fearing he doesn’t know how to eat properly when she’s not there to cook for him. She doesn't like any of it: that he lives alone, that she can't always be there to look after him, that he took a job here after college instead of moving back home. “Hoseok, I was noticing…” she starts, after they’ve greeted each other. “These are the same dishes I brought you last time. You haven’t eaten them yet?” She gestures at the dishes on the top shelf of the fridge.

“No,” he says. “Just haven’t gotten to them, that’s all.” He doesn’t like to worry her. How could he say that not even her cooking does anything for his lack of appetite? She wouldn’t understand. She never even knew you existed. All she knows is that she has a son who won’t eat her cooking.

"But you’re so thin. Are you sure you're eating properly?" His mother reaches up to touch his face, pinching his cheek. "You look like you’re wasting away.”

“Of course I have,” he deflects. “I’m fine.”

She eyes him skeptically. “Really? You seem so depressed these days. And you won’t tell me what’s going on. I’m worried about you. You’re not overworking yourself, are you? You look exhausted.” His mother pauses, biting her lip. “Why don’t you come home for a bit and let me take care of you? I’m sure your father would like to see you too. It must be tiring, living in the city all by yourself. Some time in the country would be good for you.”

“Everything is fine,” he reassures her, though he’d like nothing more than to spend a week or two at home in Gwangju, where there’s nothing to remind him of you. “There’s a big project at work, and the client’s being difficult, so things are just…kind of rough right now. But I’ll get through it.” It’s surprising how easily the lie makes its way out of his mouth. “I’ll come home soon. I promise.”

She still looks dubious, but she goes to depart regardless, making Hoseok swear he’ll have empty dishes ready for her to take back the next time she comes. He watches her leave, longing to fall into her arms and explain everything. There was a girl. I loved her. I only wanted to make her happy. But she left me, and I can’t understand why. It hurts. It hurts so much. Nothing feels right without her. Tell me it gets easier, Mom. Tell me one day it won’t hurt as much. Would she understand? No, she wouldn’t. No one could ever understand.

Dear y/n,

My mother came by today to bring me food. I’ve told her a thousand times I’m an adult and I can take care of myself, but I don’t think she’ll ever get over wanting to feed me all the time. She’s worried about me. I think she thinks I might be losing it. She wanted me to come home for a while, out in the country. That would be good, wouldn’t it, y/n? I always wanted to bring you there sometime, to show you where I grew up. Gwangju is nice. You would have liked it there. I would have taken you there someday, introduced you to my friends and family back home. I wish you would have let me introduce you to my parents. My sister, too. They would have liked you if they’d ever gotten a chance to meet you. We were always so secretive, y/n. They never even knew we were together.

Yoongi says I’m just deluding myself, that you’re not coming back. Everyone else says the same thing too: Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook, all of them. But I can’t make myself accept that. What does someone like Jungkook know about love, anyway? He’s practically a baby. He’s probably never even been in love before. Y/n, sometimes I wonder if you can hear me as I’m writing these letters. Are you out there somewhere, listening to me? Are you out there talking to me too? Are we still connected somehow? I’d like to think we are. That’d be nice. Better than the alternative.

Take care of yourself, y/n. Until we meet again.

Love always,

Hoseok

Hoseok can't remember how long he's been here, or how long he's been drinking. He's lost count of which drink he's on. He's not even quite sure where he is, though he knows it’s a bar of some type. Sounds and voices swirl around him, fading in and out, muffled, rippling, as if he’s deep underwater. He squints at the barstool next to him, thinking, if he focuses hard enough, that he can see your figure next to him, leaning against the bar, in the dress you were wearing when he first saw you. He remembers that night, far more clearly than he should. Seeing you across the crowded dance floor. Only introducing himself because his friends had dared him to, saying how far out of his league you had to be. Your smile, something sad behind it, even then. Back up against the wall as he fumbled with the door to his apartment, struggling to keep your hands off each other, the two of you stumbling down the hall in the dark leaving a trail of clothes in your wake, shoes kicked off, that dress abandoned somewhere in the living room, his jacket slung haphazardly over a chair, until you finally made it to the bed, fully exposed, your bare skin practically iridescent in the light of the full moon, beckoning him closer. Losing himself in you, in your body. Passionate moans and breathy sighs. Your breath on his ear, whispering his name, your voice sending shivers down his spine. Waking up the next morning with you curled into his arms, head resting against his chest, as if you were always meant to be there. Your hair, your eyes, your smudged makeup from the night before, everything about you - perfect. He's gone back to that night a thousand times, relived those moments over and over in his mind, wishing with everything in him that he could go back in time to keep himself from ever seeing you, from ever daring to speak to you. To satisfy the part of him that wishes he had never met you, and to hell with the part of him that never regretted a single moment.

As soon as he reaches out to touch you, your image evaporates, dissipating like a reflection on smooth water. “Y/n,” he mumbles. “Where did you go?” He rests one cheek against the cool surface of the bar, lulled by the warm feeling of the alcohol and the swishing sound thumping in his ears. I don’t want to be alone, he thinks. Please don’t leave me alone. A warm, comforting black blanket sweeps over him, blocking out the sound and light from around him.

He becomes aware of reality again when he notices the feeling of someone shaking his arm. “Hey,” sounds a voice in his ear. “Hey you, wake up.” He slowly comes to, sitting up and looking around. The bartender who’s been serving him all night is leaning on the counter, arms crossed. Her face is a mixture of resigned annoyance, as if she’s had to deal with this one too many times. “It’s last call,” she says. “We’re closing. You want to close your tab, or what?”

“Go ahead,” he says, sitting up and dropping the side of his face into his palm. She walks off and returns moments later, sliding a receipt across the counter to him.

“Are you going to be all right to get home?” she asks. “Do you want me to get you a cab? Or is there someone I can call for you?”

Y/n, he thinks. “No,” says Hoseok. “Don't worry about it. I'll be fine.” He stands up and immediately stumbles.

“Okay, you’re not going anywhere,” says another voice, one that sounds familiar. Yoongi pulls Hoseok’s arm over his shoulders and steadies him. “Come on, I’ve got you.”

“Yoongi?” he slurs. “What are you doing here?”

“You drunk-dialed me, remember?” says Yoongi dryly. “Well, no, I don't guess you'd remember. That was a while ago. I thought you'd have gotten home by now.”

He doesn’t say anything, allowing Yoongi to drag him along.

“You really gotta stop doing this,” Yoongi grumbles.

“What, drinking alone?” Hoseok chuckles goofily, reaching out his index finger to poke Yoongi in the cheek.

“No,” Yoongi says, slapping his hand away. “Whatever this is. Beating yourself up over every little thing. Drinking until you pass out. I’m your best friend, Hob-ah. You know I’ll be there whenever I can, but I can’t always be there to drag your sorry ass back home. I have my own life too. The one time I don't pick up my phone you’re going to get so pissed drunk you’ll wander out into the middle of the street and get yourself hit by a bus or something, and you won’t even notice.”

“You worry too much,” mutters Hoseok. “You should get together with my mom.”

Yoongi sighs and doesn’t say anything else until they’re home, releasing Hoseok to fall onto the couch. “Probably fucked up my shoulder even more just dragging you home,” he complains. “Fuck, I can’t deal with this anymore. I don’t know how you can either. She’s gone. Not coming back. It’s the truth. You need to accept that. The sooner you do the sooner we can all get on with our lives. You'll never be able to move on if you're just sitting here wallowing in the past and what might've been.”

“I can’t,” he mumbles. “It hurts too much. If she'd given me a chance—”

“What? You could have changed her mind? Gotten her to stay?” Yoongi sits down on the ottoman across from him. “Hobi, I hate to break it to you, but you couldn’t have stopped her from leaving any more than I could have. She knew what she wanted. You knew, too, and you still let yourself fall for her. She was always going to leave because you were always going to let your heart get involved. That’s just the kind of person you are. It wasn't a matter of if, it was just a matter of when. You were never cut out for that kind of relationship, and I don’t know why you insisted on pretending like you were. You wouldn’t have been happy with that kind of arrangement in the long run, and if you think I’m wrong you’re just lying to yourself.”

He lets that sink in. Yoongi is wrong - he’s sure of it. He would have been happy. You could’ve been, too. Things could have changed - he could have made you happy. “Get out,” says Hoseok, rubbing his eyes. “Just…leave me alone. Please.”

Yoongi stands up. “Fine. Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He lets himself out, allowing the door to slam behind him.

The room suddenly feels unbearably small and stuffy, and deafeningly silent now that he's alone again. He stumbles his way over and out to the balcony, gasping slightly as the cool evening breeze lands on his flushed cheeks. The moon is in a different phase now, waning from the full in preparation for the new. Even so, the stars seem somehow brighter tonight. He stares up, transfixed by the sky, every star where it’s supposed to be. Every star except you, the one that’s supposed to be right next to him. He allows himself to get lost in the starfield, hoping to find some indicator that you're still out there, that you've simply fallen out of orbit and gotten lost somewhere out in space, just like he is now, drifting through, waiting for someone to reach out and grab your hand and pull you back toward them.

That's the last thing he remembers when he comes to the next morning, early, as the sun is making its way into the sky again, sitting upright in one of the chairs he leaves on the balcony. His neck is stiff, his back is sore, his head is pounding angrily, and his search for you in deep space was once again unsuccessful. He hears the sound of birds, of the early morning buses, feels the sunlight on his face, smells the scent of a spring morning in Seoul. All of it only serves as a reminder that he's here, alone, without you. You're not lost in space. You're not here. You're not anywhere. You're somewhere far away, beyond his reach or anyone else's. You're not his anymore.

Maybe you never were.

Dear y/n,

You said you couldn’t be the one to make me happy. If that’s the truth, then why do I feel so empty without you? Why does the world feel so cold when you’re not here? I was happy with you, y/n. You didn’t even have to try to make me happy. As long as you were there, I was happy. That’s why I wanted to marry you. To have you by my side for the rest of my life was all I ever wanted. It would have been enough just to wake up next to you every morning, to hold you close, to look into your eyes and see you when you’re groggy and half-asleep. For you to be the one I came home to every night, to be the only one I’d ever be with. If I could have had that, I would have been happy for the rest of my life.

But maybe you were right. Maybe I was asking too much. Maybe I wanted too much. You weren’t ready. I know that now. But y/n, I would have waited forever if you asked me to. I could have been patient. We would have figured it out together. I know I could have made you happy too, if you’d only given me a chance. Since you cut me loose, I’m just drifting around, lost in space. I’ve tried to forget you. It's been six months. By all logic I should have already forgotten you and moved on by now. But I can’t. I tried to drink you away, but I couldn't. It only made your face clearer in my mind. I still see you everywhere I go. What am I supposed to do now, y/n? When my heart still aches for you, even though you’re the one who broke it? When all the alcohol in the world couldn't even make me forget you? What am I supposed to do now? I don’t just miss you, y/n, I need you. I hate you, but I still need you. What sense does that make?

I'm sorry. My head is pounding. I'm going to bed now.

Hoseok

He’s preparing for another night in when there’s a sudden pounding at his door. Half expecting you, or god forbid, Yoongi, he opens it, finding Jin and Jungkook outside instead, and he can’t help but feel a tad disappointed, though admittedly his friends are a welcome sight. He can barely remember the last time he even saw Jin or Jungkook or any of them other than Yoongi, to be honest.

“See, I told you he was in there,” says Jin cheerfully, shooting Jungkook a sideways glance. “He barely goes anywhere these days. And he always opens the door when he knows it’s me. Isn’t that right, Hobi?” He pushes his way past him, clapping Hoseok good-naturedly on the shoulder.

“What do you guys want?” he says, following them into the kitchen. Jungkook is perched on one of the barstools while Jin leans against the counter.

“Yah! Who says we’re here because we want something?” demands Jin indignantly. “The restaurant gave me the night off for once so we’re going out. We wanted to stop by and say hello, that’s all. Can’t we say hello to our friend that we haven’t seen in a while?”

“Hi,” says Hoseok. “So where are you headed?”

“We’re meeting Taehyungie at that club downtown,” replies Jungkook. “That new one Yoongi-hyung keeps talking about. We thought we'd finally go check it out.”

“Oh.” He hasn’t been out to a club since before you left. “Have fun then, I guess.”

“Well, if you’re not doing anything…” Jin says, looking at Hoseok pointedly.

“Yeah!” Jungkook’s face brightens noticeably. “Come out with us, hyung. Please?” With his big, earnest doe eyes, he looks so innocent that if it weren’t for his muscled arms no one would ever believe he was a professional MMA fighter. “We haven’t gone out together in ages.”

“Yeah, Hobi, come with us,” pipes Jin. “We never see you. You don’t go out anymore. And you’ve been so down ever since…” He hesitates when he sees Hoseok’s face. “Well, all I’m saying is that you deserve to have some fun. Live a little. You know?” He sidles up next to him, nudging him gently with his elbow. “Come on, let’s do something together. You used to love going out. Things haven’t been the same without you. And you know Kookie will desert me the second he gets a better offer anyway, like he always does. You should come. Keep me and Tae company.”

“I don’t do that every time!” protests Jungkook.

"Almost every time," retorts Jin. He turns back to him. “Please? We miss you, Hobi. Not just because you don’t go out anymore, but the way you used to be. You’re so mopey these days. I don’t think I’ve seen you smile in months. Yoongi says you’ve been drinking by yourself a lot lately, too. If you’re going to drink tonight, why don’t you do it with us instead of sitting here drinking by yourself? We’re a lot more fun than you are right now. I guarantee it.”

It’s true, it has been a long time since he’s gone out, or even spent any time with his friends. He used to like going out on the weekends, drinking for fun, not to forget. He's not sure he remembers how to do that anymore. “I don't know," he says, looking down. “I probably won't be much fun. You'd be better off going without me.”

"All the more reason you should come," Jin says. “You're just out of practice, that's all. You won't be any fun if you don't at least try." He drops a hand on his shoulder. "So what do you say?"

Hoseok ponders this for a moment. Is it too soon? Are his friends right? Does he deserve to have fun? Should he just do as Yoongi says and get on with his life?

"Yeah," he says finally. "Why not? I'II come.”

The club is louder than he remembers: almost too loud. He finds himself wishing partly that he'd stayed home where it's quiet, the drinks are already paid for, and he can hear himself think. Although, the other part of him thinks that maybe it's a good thing he can't hear himself think, and he wonders why he didn't try this sooner. Maybe he would have forgotten you before now if he had. Taehyung has already paired himself off with a woman who looks like she belongs on a runway, and the ever-charming Jin is surrounded by a clump of girls – and guys – in another corner of the dancefloor. Jungkook has disappeared too, although to where he’s not sure. So much for doing something together. He sighs and keeps his spot by the bar.

Someone approaches, a girl in a tight black dress and stiletto heels, her face framed in S-curls. “Hi there,” she says “You look lonely.” She smiles invitingly. “I can keep you company, if you like.” She’s pretty, like a member of one of those idol girl groups. She looks nothing like you - her eyes don’t have that same sadness that always seemed to be behind yours, and her smile seems genuine, whereas yours always seemed a little feigned. Her dress is far shorter than you ever would have dared to wear yours, just barely covering the tops of her thighs.

He hesitates for a moment, before saying, “Sure.”

She takes the seat next to him. “My name’s Jihyo,” she says. “Yours?”

He downs the last of his drink. “Hoseok.”

Jihyo leans in, and he can’t help but glance down at her chest, her arm pressing her breasts upwards. She’s hitting on him; that’s obvious enough. “You’re cute, oppa. But why do you look so sad?”

The question catches him off-guard. “What?”

“Let me guess,” she says. “You just got out of a relationship, didn’t you?”

Was it ever really a relationship? Or was it just an arrangement? “Something like that,” he says finally.

“Me too,” she says. “About a week ago.”

“I never would have guessed,” he says, and he wouldn’t have, not with the way she’s acting.

“I’m a good actress.” Jihyo grins. “Besides, he was all wrong for me. I’m over it - mostly.” She looks him directly in the eye. “What about you, oppa? Are you over her?”

She’s bold. He’ll give her that. “No,” he says. “Not in the slightest.”

“Do you want some help with that?” Jihyo smiles mysteriously. “People say I’m very… therapeutic.”

He knows exactly what she’s asking. “Your place or mine?” he says automatically, before he knows what he’s doing.

“Yours is fine,” she says. “I have roommates. You live alone, right?”

He doesn’t even want to know how she figured that out.

Jihyo is gone by the time he wakes up the next morning, leaving not even a single trace of herself behind, other than a scrap of paper she’s left with an almost indecipherable scribbled phone number. He realizes, as the sunlight is creeping into his room, that this is the first morning he hasn’t automatically thought of you the moment he woke up. The first morning where the light of day isn’t as painful as it was the day before. He has to hold himself back from immediately entering her number into his phone to tell her good morning, to ask her if she got home all right, that he would have given her cab fare if she’d asked. In all likelihood he’ll probably never see Jihyo again. So none of that really matters now, does it?

Jin: Yah! Where did you run off to last night without telling us? You’re as bad as Jungkookie now! Hoseok: Me? What about you? You deserted me first. Whatever. I had fun at least. Let’s do something again the next time you’re free. Jin: Yeah! Let’s do it!

He tries it again the next night, bringing home another girl, with another short dress and a different name. This one wants to hang around and talk in the morning, instead of vanishing silently while he’s asleep like Jihyo. He wishes she wouldn’t, that she’d quietly get her things and be on her way out. He’s relieved when she’s finally gone. She talks too much, which is good in bed but nowhere else.

It gets easier, eventually. Every morning, he notices, becomes a little less painful. He’s finally figured it out, he thinks. The answer to the question of what to do to forget you. A different woman for every night you’re gone, from here on out, until the day comes where it doesn’t hurt so much to face the truth, that you’re gone and never coming back. Where he doesn’t automatically wonder where you are or what you’re doing, or whether you still think about him. He stops writing you letters eventually too, tucking the sealed envelopes into a shoebox, along with the tiny velvet box he never found it in himself to get rid of, and all the other little things that remind him of you. The shoebox makes its way onto the top shelf of his closet, where it won’t be thought of again for a long time. The next time his mother comes into the city he sends her back home with empty dishes, having finished off every leftover. He finds himself smiling again, now that you’re not constantly on his mind anymore. He feels lighter. Like he could be happy again without you.

It’s true, dwelling on the past will only hold you back. The only way out is forward. Yoongi was right about that, at least. But in the end, it was you who taught him the most valuable lessons: to keep things short and sweet, to stay detached, to keep your heart closely guarded. He knows this now. Everything that ever reminded him of you is gone, but the scars on his heart will always be there, a silent reminder of a mistake he’ll never make again. Falling for someone, allowing them to hold your heart in their hands, even for only a brief moment - only ever ends in heartbreak. Hearts are fragile, slippery things, and they’ll always end up sliding out of your hands, fracturing into a million little pieces, too small and too delicate to be put back together.

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brunomarsarchive · 3 months

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#bruno mars #doo wops and hooligans era

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bestofmidi · 11 months

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When I see your face (Face, face) There's not a thing that I would change 'Cause you're amazing (Amazing) Just the way you are (Are) And when you smile (Smile, smile) The whole world stops and stares for a while 'Cause, girl, you're amazing (Amazing) Just the way you are (Are) Yeah

original midi at https://freemidi.org/getter-12475

#midi #best of midi #bruno mars #just the way you are #doo-wops & hooligans #fishmech #2010

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juliogetthestretch · 3 months

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૮꒰ྀི✌️´ ᵕ `✌️꒱ྀིა

'take a look in that mirror,

now tell me whose the fairest.

is it you?

is it me?

say its us,

kawaii!'

– That's What I Like (Live At Tokyo Dome), 2024

#twil — td;hk 🎀#td;hk 🎀#hello kitty era 🎀#24k magic #an evening with silk sonic #bruno mars #bruno mars fan page #fan page #fanpage #silk sonic #unorthodox jukebox #doo wops & hooligans #hello kitty #sanrio #hello kitty x bruno mars

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new-day-new-lyric · 2 years

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"Still trying to get to you In hopes you're on the other side talking to me, too Or am I a fool who sits alone talking to the moon ?"

#bruno mars #bruno mars song #bruno mars song lyrics #bruno mars lyrics #bruno mars it's better if you don't understand #it's better if you don't understand #bruno mars doo-wops & hooligans #doo-wops & hooligans #bruno mars talking to the moon #talking to the moon #song lyrics #song recommendation #song recs #music daily #music discovery #music recommendation #music recs #Spotify

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groovetrill · 2 years

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It's a beautiful night

We're looking for something dumb to do

Hey baby

I think I wanna marry you

Is it the look in your eyes

Or is it this dancing juice?

Who cares baby

I think I wanna marry you

Well I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go oh oh oh

No one will know oh oh oh

Oh, come on, girl

Who cares if we're trashed got a pocket full of cash we can blow oh oh oh

Shots of patron

And it's on, girl

Don't say no, no, no, no-no

Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah

And we'll go, go, go, go-go

If you're ready, like I'm ready

Cause it's a beautiful night

We're looking for something dumb to do

Hey baby

I think I wanna marry you

Is it the look in your eyes

Or is it this dancing juice?

Who cares baby

I think I wanna marry you

#bruno mars #marry you #doo-wops & hooligans #groovetrill #Spotify

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anarchoarchie · 2 years

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listening to bruno mars again bc i miss 2010 and in Grenade when he goes "tell the devil i said 'hey' when you get back to where you're from"....literally no one has written a line like that since

#i'm lying actually about missing 2010 fuck that i just miss 2010 bruno mars #what happened to us as a society that we just stopped talking about bruno mars' 2010 album Doo-Wops & Hooligans #.misc

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toncharts · 14 years

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Avaliação do Álbum 'Doo-Wops & Hooligans' de Bruno Mars

Quer saber mais sobre a minha avaliação das faixas do álbum 'Doo-Wops & Hooligans' de Bruno Mars? Confira aqui e descubra a média final do álbum!

Bruno Mars

Doo-Wops & Hooligans

4 out 2010

pop dance

GRENADE

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

OUR FIRST TIME

RUNAWAY BABY

THE LAZY SONG

MARRY YOU

TALKING TO THE MOON

LIQUOR STORE BLUES

Damian Marley

COUNT ON ME

THE OTHER SIDE

B.o.B, CeeLo Green

SOMEWHERE IN BROOKLYN

ano2010 atoBrunoMars albumDoo-Wops&Hooligans generopop generodance avaliação álbum 2010 BrunoMars Doo-Wops&Hooligans BrunoMarsDoo-Wops&Hooligans

#avaliação #álbum #2010 #BrunoMars #Doo-Wops&Hooligans #DooWopsHooligans #DooWops&Hooligans #BrunoMarsDoo-Wops&Hooligans #BrunoMarsDooWops&Hooligans #BrunoMarsDooWopsHooligans

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afabkaidou · 10 months

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Talked abt life one-on-one w/ the bestie and then we sung Bruno Mars as a cleanser from all the heavy topics, as we should

#I made her into an offical Doo-Wops and Hooligans fan slay #I'm more of an Unorthodox Jukebox fan but I listen to his singles more :33 #🍡

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mrworldwideshoulders · 2 years

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The Way You Look Tonight || reader x KNJ

Pairing: reader x KNJ Word count: 2.5k Rating: M / R Genre: married life au, maybe a little bit of angst, fluff, slice of life Summary: You’re feeling self-conscious about the way you look after years of being married and having kids, so your husband takes it upon himself to reassure you that you’re still the most beautiful woman in his life. Inspired by Just The Way You Are - Bruno Mars (among many similar others). Warnings: don’t get squarshed by the large quantities of fluff; also strong language, discussion of the postpartum body. T/N: aegiya = a Korean term of endearment meaning baby. A/N: I am truly so soft for husband Joon fluff T_T I could write these married life aus alllll day for real. once again beta’d and bannered by my best pal @onmypillow-onmytable :D hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ly - robyn P.S. As always I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars, lol, they simply inspire me.

inspo playlist here

You stare at yourself in the mirror, sucking your bottom lip in and out. You can’t quite put your finger on why, but this dress doesn’t look right, not even with your doughy stomach crammed into the shaper underneath. Neither did the last one. Or the one before that. Or the first one you tried on, about six dresses ago. Who knew every single cocktail dress you owned looked awful on you? Or that every little black dress in your closet was suddenly so…little? You’re practically falling out of all of them. It’s almost indecent how much cleavage is showing with this one, especially since it’s strapless. You’d forgotten how small they’d used to be before you had kids. This one is tight everywhere else too - really tight - but not so tight that it’s unbearable. It’s not so bad…but it’s just not right. You feel overexposed, like it barely covers anything.

The corners of your eyes prickle and you let out a sigh of frustration. Right. It's probably because you haven’t gone shopping for dresses since before you got pregnant - for the first time. You curse yourself silently for not making time to go shopping before today, but Namjoon had only sprung this cocktail party on you a week in advance, and you had meant to, but there had been one thing or another that had kept you from going, what with being the stay-at-home mom of a four and two year old. Junseok had started on his “getting into everything” phase, while Miyoung, of course, was in the midst of her terrible twos, which you’d barely survived with Junseok the first time around, and per her usual, Miyoung just had to one-up her brother by being even worse. You’d barely had a free moment to yourself since before you’d had kids, and that was probably the reason you hadn’t realized just how much you’d let yourself go in the last year or two. You almost don’t even recognize yourself. The woman in the mirror looks old, worn out, tired - nothing like you. You conclude that she’s not actually you, but a clone, and the younger, prettier version of yourself is out there somewhere, walking around and living her best life. If only that were true.

You glance at the clock. 6:30. You’re supposed to be there by 7, and you haven’t even started your makeup yet, or done anything to your hair. Not that it would matter. Your hair doesn't hold a curl, never has, not even on your wedding day. And not even the thickest concealer could cover up the bags under your eyes, or make you look any less tired than you do now, without really caking it on. The eyeliner will probably get caught in the creases and smudge all over the place, and make you look like you’re still in your emo phase, the lipstick will probably either get on your teeth or wear off, and what the hell, what’s the point anymore? You might as well just not go anywhere when you look this bad. No use in embarrassing the both of you, especially not in front of your husband’s colleagues, and the tenure committee, and whoever else has to lay eyes on you at this thing.

There’s a knock on the door, and you jump at the sudden noise. “Y/n?” It’s Namjoon. “The sitter’s here. Are you going to be ready soon? We should really get going.”

You hesitate, staring at the unattractive stranger in the mirror, and reply, “Um…I think maybe you should just go without me.”

“What?” he says through the door. “Why would I go without you?”

“No reason,” you say. “I, um, just don't feel good all of a sudden."

"Huh?" He sounds confused. "You were fine just a little while ago. Are you sick? What can I do? Do you need anything?"

A time machine, you think, biting the inside of your cheek, so I can go back to when I was pretty. And worthy of being seen in public. "No," you say. "I'm fine. Just go without me, okay?”

"Well, if you're not going then I'm not going either," he says. "It's just a dumb cocktail party. There will be plenty of others. And I shouldn't be going anywhere if you're sick, either. What about the kids? Who’ll take care of you?"

Damn your husband for being so thoughtful. That man has been worrying about you since you started dating, more than you ever even worried about yourself. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Joonie. What do you think I did before I met you? The sitter can watch the kids. This is a big deal; I know how much you want this. You should go. Schmooze. Impress the tenure committee with all those impressive accomplishments of yours."

"I don’t want to schmooze, not without you. I'm terrible at this kind of thing. I need you there to keep me from putting my foot in my mouth. I mean, we used to go to parties all the time. What’s different about this one?" Namjoon pauses. You picture him outside the door, big brain at work, trying to figure out what's going on. "Aegiya…is something wrong?"

"Try everything," you say under your breath. "Nothing's wrong," you add aloud. "I don't feel well. End of story."

"You're acting weird," he says. "I'm coming in." He lets himself into the room before you can grab your bathrobe to cover up, and stops cold when he sees you, standing there, in that stupid strapless dress, jaw falling open. “Y/n…wow. You look…hot. Have I ever told you how much I love you in all black? All white is one thing, but…damn. It really suits you.”

Maybe it's the fact that you've been trying on dresses for the past hour or so with no luck, or the fact that you haven't eaten enough today, or that the exertion of wrangling yourself in and out of all of these dresses has left you overheated and sweaty, but a feeling of anger bubbles up in your chest. “You gotta be kidding me,” you snap and stomp into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. “'Hot?' Are you serious? That’s not fucking funny, Namjoon.” You lean against the counter, arms crossed, on the verge of tears. He has to be joking, you think. That’s ridiculous. No way in hell.

“Wait, what did I do?” he says. “You’re upset…because I said you looked nice?"

“Of course I’m upset, are you blind?” you practically shout.

“No?” He chuckles uneasily. “I’m not blind. I wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true.” A knock comes on the bathroom door. “Come on, y/n.”

“No!” you snap. “Leave me alone. Just go without me. You’re going to be late.” You let yourself slide down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest and burying your face in your arms.

He knocks again. “I’m not leaving until you open the door and talk to me, y/n. Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”

“You can’t help.” Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.” Of course he wouldn’t. He still looks the same as he did on the day you met him. It’s like he hasn’t aged at all. It’s not fair.

“Then explain it to me,” he says patiently. “I’m a quick study. Will you please come out? Or let me in? I don’t like talking to you through the door.”

You don’t say anything. How do you explain this? “Okay,” you say, almost inaudibly. “I guess you can come in.” You look up as he opens the door, the visible concern on his face enough to turn the prickles in the corners of your eyes into full-fledged tears. Your face crumples, and before you know it, you’re sobbing.

“Hey. Come here.” Namjoon sits down on the floor next to you and pulls you close, folding you into his warm embrace and letting your tears soak into the front of his charcoal-colored blazer. He presses a kiss to your forehead and touches your chin, coaxing you into looking at him. “Tell me, aegiya. What’s wrong?”

“Everything. Nothing,” you say, hiccuping. “It’s stupid. Really.”

“It can’t be nothing if it’s making you this upset,” he says.

Of course he’s right. You draw in a shaking breath. “Nothing looks right on me!” you wail. “I went through my whole closet before I got to this dress, and I still hate the way it looks. I hate the way everything looks, myself included. My boobs used to be a normal size, and everyone said they’d go back to normal once I stopped breastfeeding, but they haven’t, and they’re still huge, and they don’t fit anywhere, not to mention the stretch marks. Do you remember when I bought this dress?”

“Not really,” he says.

“Before I had Junseok, Joon. When I was still small, and pretty, and everything was the right size, and my stomach didn’t look like it had a watermelon crammed inside of it for nine months. There’s more stretch marks than skin, my arms are flabby, my face looks old and tired, my ass is huge, and nothing fits.” The words spill out, and you’re rambling, not sure if you’re making any sense. “I don’t recognize the person in the mirror anymore, and I hate it. I have this image of myself, and what I used to be and what I am now, and none of it lines up. I used to be pretty and now I’m just a fat, ugly mom, while you still look the same as you always have, and I don’t know how you’re even still attracted to me, if you are, because I’m definitely not much to look at anymore.” Tears run down your face, and you burrow further into his chest.

He rubs a hand up and down your arm. “That’s what’s upsetting you so much?”

You nod, sniffling.

“Well, I’m sorry you’re feeling that way, aegiya. You’re right, I can’t even begin to understand. But let me be the first to tell you that I’m not going anywhere.” He kisses you on the forehead. “It would make me a pretty terrible person and that much less of a man if I left you because I didn't like the way your body changed while you were having my children. Your body is amazing, y/n. That body grew and nurtured two little humans. It took care of them until they were ready to come into the world, and kept them fed and nourished once they did. I can’t do any of that. That body gave me two wonderful gifts I could only ever dream of reciprocating, and it hurts me to see you feeling like this.” He plants another kiss on your cheek. “I’ve never stopped being attracted to you, aegiya. Not once since the day I first laid eyes on you. I know you don’t think so so but you're still the same stunner I fell in love with back then. You're still the beautiful girl I married. You’re not a, what was it, ‘a fat, ugly mom?’ If anything, becoming a mother has only made you even prettier.”

"Bullshit," you mutter, scowling. “Motherhood has made me look like death warmed over, 24/7. I don’t know how you could love that.”

"Y/n, it's not bullshit." He touches his hand to your cheek. "I love every single thing about you. That goofy laugh you hate, the way your whole face crinkles when you smile, the way you sing to the kids when they’re sick, or they can’t sleep, even though you’re way off-key, and yes, each and every individual stretch mark on that beautiful body of yours. I love all of it. So if looks are what you’re worried about, then don’t, because you’re perfect, the way you look right now, and the way you looked yesterday, and the way you looked five years ago.” He wipes at the tears still on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “Does that make you feel any better?”

“Well…no.” Your lower lip trembles. “You don’t really mean that, do you? You’re just saying that to make me feel better. There has to be at least one thing you’d change about me if you could, isn’t there? I know there’s a few things I’d like to change about you, if I had the chance. Your snoring, for one. I definitely don't love that."

“Maybe I would,” he says. “Maybe I wouldn’t. It wouldn’t change the way I feel about you. You’re the person I chose to share my life with. Which means I accept you for you, all of your perceived flaws and supposed blemishes. So no, I wouldn’t change a thing. Those are all the things that make you you. And you are special. To me, and to Miyoung, and Junseok, your friends, your family, and everyone else who has the privilege of having you in their life. You’re a beautiful woman and an amazing mother, and I’m proud to call you my wife.” He strokes your hair. “How about now? Better?”

“I guess so,” you say slowly, your head still resting against his chest. You listen to his heartbeat thumping. “What did I ever do to deserve a husband as kind and as patient as you? You know? How did I get so lucky?”

“You chose me, remember? And I chose you right back.” He smiles gently, wiping away the last few remaining tears. “We’re both pretty lucky, don't you think?”

"The luckiest." You allow a tiny smile to creep onto your face. "I'm sorry for being so insecure."

"You don't ever have to apologize for having feelings,” he says, giving you a squeeze.

"Thank you.” You meet his gaze. “For listening. For being patient with me."

"I'll always be here to listen," he says. "No matter what. And life is a learning curve for all of us. Myself included."

"And thank you for not leaving me," you add.

"I'll never leave you, y/n. Not now, not ever. I promised you for better or for worse, and I plan on keeping that promise," he says.

You reach up and tousle his hair, managing a teary smile. “Me too. I promise.”

Namjoon tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Well, what do you say? Are you still not feeling up to coming out with me? I think we could still make it on time if we hurry, but we don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want to." He looks at you, smiling tentatively.

"No, I think I'm okay now. God, I'm probably a mess. All puffy and red." As you're rubbing your eyes, you notice the big wet spot on the front of Namjoon's jacket and part of the white shirt he’s wearing underneath. "Oh, damn. I ruined your jacket, didn't I? You’ll have to change."

"Don't even worry about it, aegiya." He pulls you in for a kiss, plush lips intertwining with yours. "I have plenty of other jackets. But I only have one wife, and she comes first. Always."

––––

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts angst #bts fluff #reader x namjoon #reader x rm #reader x kim namjoon #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #bts au #bts series #bts x you #bts slice of life #bts married life #doo-wops & hooligans #mrworldwideshoulders #robyn writes

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dkfile · 2 years

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heartache and a latte

❛ it’s hard to tell someone you like them when you lose all self-control around them. like everything goes to auto-pilot. ❜

word count | 9.3k (9,296) genre | fluff, slice of life, strangers to lovers, coffee shop au ━ barista!woozi

you couldn’t help but notice that your spotify mutual woozi has been listening to some downright sad songs as of late, but as much as you want to reach out and console them, you have no way to, seeing as you don’t know who they are. however, fate might give you a chance when you realize that whatever song woozi is listening to is the same one playing whenever you’re in the coffee shop.

★ warnings | there’s nothing but fluff and meddling friends ★ author’s note | there is absolutely no heartache in this fic but im gonna be honest i couldn’t think of another title (read: i was too lazy to) but there is one mention of a latte so!!!

► woozi is currently listening to … Talking to the Moon, Bruno Mars 💿 Doo-Wops & Hooligans

According to Seungcheol, you are truly not Yoon Jeonghan’s friend until you become a victim of his notorious matchmaking. And unfortunately for Wonwoo, Jeonghan has declared him his number one target, and your poor best friend has been going on bad date after bad date for the past month.

Wonwoo collapses into the seat across from you, the heavy breaths falling from his lips fog up his glasses and it only takes him three more heaves before he takes them off and throws them onto the table, caring very little for the way they almost clatter onto the floor. You raise an eyebrow at him, trying your best not to show your amusement, before humming.

“Why are you so upset?”

He throws you a look, clearly not happy with your sarcasm, and throws his hands up in the air in frustration. Yesterday he made the mistake of telling Jeonghan he has little to no assignments due this week, which Jeonghan took as an invitation to schedule more dates — whilst Seungcheol was shaking with laughter, Wonwoo looked like he wanted to jump out a window.

“I can’t believe I have to live like this,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “God, I knew Jeonghan was persistent, but I didn’t know it was like this.”

You hum. “That’s Jeonghan for you.”

“Whenever he texts me about a date I start to feel the walls closing in on me.”

You throw him a look. “You’re so overdramatic. I think Seungkwan’s starting to rub off on you.”

Wonwoo ignores your comment. “No, you don’t get it. Every week, I go on a date, it ends badly, Jeonghan reprimands me, then he sets me up on another one. It’s a never-ending cycle and I can’t take it anymore, Y/N. I can’t take it.”

“Then just lie to him. Tell him you’ve found the love of your life or something.”

“Jeonghan’s got the best bullshit detector I’ve ever seen. He would never believe me,” Wonwoo says. You think this might be the most annoyed Wonwoo’s ever been, which is astonishing, given the fact that just last week during movie night at your place, he witnessed Seungkwan and Mingyu’s atrocious reenactment of Titanic. They acted out every scene, word for word. For two hours.

You have videos to prove it.

“Well, then there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

He scowls. “Gee, thanks.”

You shrug, unbothered by his irritation. It will only take a couple of minutes before Wonwoo calms down and cracks open his laptop to watch Sims 4 let’s plays from the early 2010s, so you continue working on an essay for your Asian Civilization class. It’s due today and you didn’t start it until a few minutes ago but, in your defence, you’ve been swamped with other priorities (like rewatches of Love Island and The Bachelor), and at least you’re not doing it at 11 P.M.

You huff when a loud ding in your ear signals that your airpods are almost dead. Lazily, you search for the case at the bottom of your bag before taking the earbuds off and allowing them to charge. You go to pause your music too, just in case it continues playing — which has happened before. Once when you were in the library, the heavy metal Seungcheol added to the friend group’s collaborative study playlist conveniently started blasting the moment your airpods died, which was utterly humiliating. You haven’t stepped foot in the library since then.

A small sigh of relief escapes you when you see that the song’s paused, but then you glance to the side section of the Spotify screen and frown.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been mutuals with woozi or even who they are — which is strange since you only have about six followers, all of them being people in your small tight-knit group of friends — and you’ve never bothered to find out. But lately, woozi has been listening to a collection of rather depressing heartbreak songs, and you aren’t sure whether they’ve just been in a mood for the past three months or if they’re going through a bad breakup.

“What are you frowning at?” Wonwoo asks. Just like you predicted, he’s already opened up his laptop. He’s looking at you with a hint of curiosity, but you know that one little white lie and he’ll leave you alone.

“Just something for my assignment.”

Wonwoo nods before looking back down at his screen. You only stare at woozi’s icon — which is a Marvel superhero you can’t quite remember the name of — for a couple more seconds before going back to Google Docs.

No time to worry about someone you don’t know. You have an assignment to finish.

► woozi is currently listening to … Two Slow Dancers, Mitski 💿 Be the Cowboy

“Dude,” Soonyoung groans, throwing his body against the counter. Jihoon glances at him with mild exasperation, and although Soonyoung is far from finished wiping down the tables, he doesn’t bother to reprimand his friend for his laziness. “All you gotta do is talk to her.”

Jun, another one of Jihoon’s co-workers, purses his lips. He and Soonyoung have been exchanging relationship advice for the past twenty minutes. Jihoon, however, has chosen to stay quiet, but he doesn’t stray too far away because he still wants to be part of the conversation.

“It’s not as easy as you think,” Jun retorts, harshly wiping at a stain on the counter that’s been there for as long as Jihoon’s been employed. “Whenever I try to talk to her, my brain just stops working. I malfunction. Everything in me freezes. Plus, she’s, like, out of my league.”

“Well, I know that,” Soonyoung huffs, barely dodging the smack Jun reaches out to give him. “But you just need some practice. C’mon, practice on me.”

Jun sighs. For a moment, Jihoon thinks he’ll turn Soonyoung down, but then he steps back and clears his throat. For as long as Jihoon’s known him, Jun has never turned down an opportunity to perform.

“Hi,” Jun begins weakly. Soonyoung catches Jihoon’s eye over Jun’s shoulder and they both wince. “So, I was wondering—”

“Please stop.”

“What— But I barely started!”

“I already couldn’t stand it,” Soonyoung says. “Dude, you’ve got no game.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk—”

Jihoon purses his lips and moves to the side, deciding now is the best time to get away from this conversation. Before Soonyoung can even think about dragging Jihoon in, he’s already grabbing a cloth and going towards one of the empty tables. It’s been relatively slow today and he’s pretty sure he wiped this table an hour ago, but if cleaning is what will save him from Jun and Soonyoung’s argument then so be it.

College students are scattered all over the vicinity. It’s rather calm — save for behind the counter where his friends attempt to keep their voices low — but the tranquil atmosphere is broken momentarily when a boy storms in and makes his way to an occupied booth. Jihoon only stares at him with a frown for a couple more seconds before realizing that the person he’s sitting with is his friend — of course, how could he forget? You two have been coming into this coffee shop since the beginning of time.

Jihoon catches snippets of the conversation (something about bad dates and someone named Seungkwan? He swears that the name sounds familiar…) before he makes his way back to the counter. Jun and Soonyoung’s argument seems to have been resolved — record-breakingly quick, Jihoon adds — but he can tell Jun is still a little disgruntled. When one of Jihoon’s favourite songs comes on the speakers, the taller boy throws him a halfhearted glare and pouts.

“This is the last thing I needed to hear right now.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes because while he is in charge of the music they play in the shop, it’s not his fault that Spotify shuffle decided to play Two Slow Dancers. But because Jun’s day has already been bad enough, Jihoon decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. He slips into the back to retrieve his phone and scrolls through his playlists in hopes of finding something that will cheer his friend up.

But doing that is harder than expected and he ends up just putting a random Spotify-generated playlist on shuffle.

Party In The U.S.A comes on and in the booth across from Jeon Wonwoo, you jump at the sudden change in music. Your best friend is too immersed with whatever’s on his laptop to notice the sudden change in the atmosphere, but he seems to be the only one. Some of the customers jerk up in surprise while others raise their heads with furrowed eyebrows. Two employees, a boy with unruly platinum hair and a taller boy with brown hair falling into his eyes, simultaneously fall into laughter just as another one of their colleagues emerges from the back, sporting a hairdo that only comes from working an 8-hour shift.

You briefly meet the latter employee’s eyes. He smiles politely, as every worker would do, before turning to his friends.

Despite your airpods only being in the case for two minutes, you take them out anyway and put them on. You’ll let them charge once the song is over because there’s absolutely no way you’ll be able to focus with Party In The U.S.A blasting. When you open Spotify again, you notice that the song woozi’s listening to has changed to the same one that’s playing in the coffee shop.

Weird. Your eyes narrow but you decide not to worry too much about it. You have bigger fish to fry.

Like this fucking essay.

You scowl as you open Google Docs up again.

► woozi is currently listening to … The Night We Met, Lord Huron 💿 Strange Trails

While you wouldn’t consider observance as something you excel at, you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself oblivious. You can catch on to things without much help, so it’s embarrassing that it took you so long to figure out that the song woozi is always listening to is the same one that plays whenever you’re in the coffee shop.

You aren’t quite sure what to do after coming to this realization. It’s not like you could just run to the coffee shop and demand to meet woozi just so you can see if he’s OK.

Well. Maybe you could, considering you’re in the shop after running three minutes from Seungkwan and Mingyu’s apartment.

“Hi,” you exhale, your energy quickly running out as you lean against the front counter, ignoring the blond barista’s concerned expression.

“Hello,” the employee greets you. As your eyes scan the nametag pinned to his blue apron — Soonyoung, written messily with silver Sharpie — you briefly wonder if this boy could be your Spotify mutual. But he’s smiling at you with enough radiance to rival the sun, and he doesn’t give off the sad, broken, tortured vibe you always assumed woozi has.

You’re snapped out of your daze when the barista clears his throat. It’s then you realize that you haven’t been paying attention to anything he’s been saying. “What can I get for you today?”

“Right, um,” you trail off, wondering how to frame your question. It’s not like you thought about this on the run over, which you probably should have. It would make this interaction a lot less uncomfortable. “Sorry. I’m looking for someone.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows rise. “Uh, OK. Are you one of Jun’s friends? Because his shift ended a few minutes ago—”

“Oh. No, I’m not here for Jun,” you say with a quick shake of your head. “I’m here for Woozi?”

Soonyoung blinks. “Who?”

“Um. Woozi.”

“Right. I don’t know who that is.”

Somewhat defeated, you inhale sharply and nod your head. “Oh, OK. I just… Sorry, this might sound weird, but I’m following Woozi on Spotify and they’ve just been listening to some… sad songs recently — actually, I’ve noticed they’ve been listening to them for a while and I realized that the song they’re listening to is always the same one that’s playing here and I just wanted to make sure they’re, like, OK? Or if heartbreakingly sad songs are something they just vibe with. So, um… Yeah. Sorry again.”

Throughout your entire ramble, Soonyoung stares at you blankly. You think you might have just humiliated yourself in the worst possible way before the barista breaks out into an incredulous grin. He lets out a loud cackle, catching the attention of some of the customers, before he’s shaking his head and gestures for you to wait.

“I’ll be right back,” he says in between laughs. You gawk at him as he stumbles out of sight.

You awkwardly stand at the front counter, wringing your hands as you wait for Soonyoung to reemerge. In your back pocket, your phone vibrates with what you assume are texts from your friends, probably asking if you’re coming back anytime soon. You had made a lame excuse of needing coffee before slipping out of the door, which you’re pretty sure they didn’t believe.

(“You need coffee?” Seungkwan had asked, bewildered. “It’s eight in the evening.”

Jeonghan looked at you as if you had something on your face. “Yeah, plus we have coffee here. Why would you run all the way over there to spend money on mediocre drinks? Be serious for a moment, Y/N.”)

Before you can pull out your phone and send a quick text to assure them you’ll be back, you hear loud protests and devious laughter before Soonyoung walks out, dragging someone behind him. The barista who seems to be working every time you’re here, his hair always dishevelled in one way or another, is grumbling beside his colleague, but when he sees you standing there, he masks his expression with a smile he reserves only for customers.

Soonyoung stops his friend from saying anything and pats him a little too roughly on the back. “So, I have some amazing news for you! This boy right here is Jihoon.”

Jihoon furrows his eyebrows, slightly confused with the introduction. “Soonyoung, what are you—?”

“But,” Soonyoung continues, ignoring Jihoon’s confusion, “you might know him as Woozi.”

► woozi is currently listening to … You’re Somebody Else, flora cash 💿 Baby, It’s Okay

When Soonyoung rushes into the back room — startling Jihoon as he tries to savour every last minute of his break —and says something along the lines of, “Dude, guess what? I just found the love of your life,” Jihoon doesn’t know what to expect as his best friend dragged him to the front, but one thing’s for sure: he does not expect this.

Soonyoung, who annoyingly assures Jihoon that it’ll be fine if he goes over break, ushers the two of you to one of the booths in the back so you could, as Soonyoung put it, “Enjoy some time together!” which both you and Jihoon found off-putting seeing as he says it with a conspiratorial smile and a mischievous glint in his eye.

Now, Jihoon sits in a booth across from someone he’s never spoken a word to before other than, “What can I get for you today?” and “Your total is…”

“So…” you begin, “this is awkward.”

Jihoon, who was previously playing with the napkin dispenser to avoid eye contact, surprises himself by laughing at your comment. He hastily builds up the courage to apologize and explain that he didn’t mean to laugh at you, but when he meets your eyes, you’ve broken out into a cautious half-smile. The tense atmosphere shatters as soon as the chuckle falls from his lips and now both of you feel like you can relax, which he’s extremely thankful for; he’s completely unaware of what to do in a situation such as this. It’s not like he knows anybody who has had a Spotify mutual try to reach out to them because they’re concerned about them.

The fact that you did, though, is oddly heartwarming.

After a beat, Jihoon says, “There’s really nothing to worry about— with my music taste, I mean. I’m not going through a bad breakup or anything, but it’s nice of you to reach out and check if I’m good. No one’s ever done that for me before.”

Your smile grows sheepish. “I don’t think anyone’s ever done that before.”

Jihoon smiles back. “Guess that makes me extra special then.”

You purse your lips to prevent yourself from continuing to grin like an idiot. “So you just listen to all this sappy stuff because you like it?”

“I mean… yeah. That’s why people listen to music.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Do you not like upbeat stuff?”

“‘Course I do,” Jihoon shrugs and relaxes against the back of the seat. Out of his line of sight, Soonyoung watches his friend’s interaction with sharp eyes. He’s almost buzzing at the thought of telling Jun all about this later. “But I listen to slower songs more. And I’m in charge of the music here, and a coffee shop isn’t exactly the perfect environment for EDM.”

Your eyes glimmer. “Well, you never know.”

Jihoon quirks an eyebrow. “Is that some sort of challenge?”

“No, actually,” you hum, drumming your fingers on the table. “But now that I think about it, it would be nice to play some less sad songs here.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Let me pick the music that you guys play.”

The proposal is so preposterous that Jihoon laughs. In all the years he’s worked in this quaint cafe, he has never let anyone touch the music station (read: the small table in the back where he keeps his phone that’s connected to the speakers) — it took two years before he let Soonyoung and Jun take the reins, and he only allows them to pick the songs when he isn’t working. Hell will freeze over before Jihoon puts something as important as this in the palms of some stranger.

“No way,” he scoffs.

“OK. Let me pick the music that plays while I’m here.”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Besides, I only work here part-time. What happens if you’re here and I’m not? There are holes in your plan.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Then I’ll come here when you have a shift.”

“You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

You give a dismissive wave of your hand, ignoring the evident amusement on Jihoon’s face. “When do you work next?”

Jihoon searches your face for some sort of tell, anything that says that you’re bluffing. But there are no cracks in your posture, no signs that point to an act. He concludes that he just doesn’t know you well enough to figure out whether you’re lying or not, and decides — hopes — you probably won’t live up to your word.

So, Jihoon offers up the information. “Tomorrow at seven.”

“Opening shift?”

He shakes his head. “Closing. Seven P.M.”

You grin. “See you then, Woozi.”

► woozi is currently listening to … Love In The Dark, Adele 💿 25

Turns out, you were not bluffing.

You come into the coffee shop followed by two people Jihoon’s never seen you with before. A tall boy who trips the moment he steps inside and a blond who oozes confidence trail behind you, seemingly in their own little world when you arrive at the counter.

Behind Jihoon, Soonyoung and Jun start whispering to each other the moment they see you. He’s dreading the moment you leave and they bombard him with questions; Soonyoung and Jun love to tease their friends, and Jihoon doesn’t mind it as long as he isn’t on the receiving end of it.

You’re grinning at him like all the light in the world can’t rival the luminescence of your smile and he knows he’s doomed.

You pretend to study the menu before looking at him. “This is one of my favourite songs.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrow. “Me too,” he replies. Before you can say anything else, Jihoon continues, “Is there anything I can get for you today?”

Your friend — the shorter one who carries himself with an air of authority — pops out from behind you, giving Jihoon a polite smile. “Iced americano please.”

The taller boy adds, “And a blueberry scone for me.”

Jihoon’s eyes land back on you. “Oh, just a small latte will be fine,” you say, “as well as a different song.”

The blond beside you frowns. “I kind of like this song, though.”

Jihoon gives you a small victorious grin. “Well, if he likes it then I see no reason to change it. How would you like to pay?”

As you grumble under your breath and take out your card, momentarily occupied with the pin pad, Jihoon moves to the side to grab a scone. When he does this, Soonyoung gasps loudly behind him which is then followed by a loud exclamation, “Seungkwan!”

The blond brightens. Seungkwan and Soonyoung immediately fall into conversation before Seungkwan drags your other friend — Mingyu, Jihoon overhears — as well as Jun, leaving both of you alone. It’s only then that Jihoon remembers why the name Seungkwan is so familiar; a few months ago, Soonyoung wouldn’t stop complaining about how incompetent his group was in his Microbiology class, save for a younger boy named Seungkwan.

Jihoon clicks his tongue. Seems like he has more connections with you than he thought.

“So,” you say once you’ve made sure your payment has been approved, “are you gonna change the song?”

Jihoon looks at you over the display case of pastries. “No.”

“Thought so,” you sigh. “But I’m not going to give up, you know. I’m going to break you.”

Jihoon can’t help the smile that makes its way to his lips no matter how hard he tries to fight it. He’s usually good at keeping a poker face so he isn’t quite sure why he’s struggling so much. He brushes it off, deeming it a problem that’ll fix itself, and muses, “Is that so?”

“Mhm! I just need to find your soft spot, I’ll figure it out somehow, given that your friends seem to be friends with mine?” you falter, turning your head in the direction of Seungkwan, Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Jun, who all seem to be in a rather heated conversation about NASCAR. You glance back at Jihoon, clearly just as confused about the sudden friendship as he is. “Did you know they knew each other?”

“Soonyoung’s talked about Seungkwan before,” Jihoon explains as he puts Mingyu’s blueberry scone in a paper bag. “I never realized you knew him until now, though.”

“That’s so weird,” you say.

“You could say that.”

“Well, I could get something out of Soonyoung,” you declare as Jihoon turns to make your drinks since his other coworkers seem to have better things to do. Sometimes Jihoon thinks that he’s the only one around here who actually works. “Surely he knows how I can break down your walls and get you to trust me enough to pick a more lively song And if not,” you pause, “I could resort to blackmail.”

Jihoon throws you a look over his shoulder. “Blackmail?”

“Yes. There has to be an embarrassing picture of you on the internet somewhere.”

“You’ll be searching for years.”

Your mouth curls. “We’ll see about that! I’m good at investigating. I put Nancy Drew and Sherlock Holmes to shame.”

“You talk a big game for someone who took months to realize that the same song woozi listens to is the same one playing at the coffee shop.”

You scowl. “Oh, be quiet. That doesn’t count.”

Jihoon places both drinks on the pick-up counter, meeting your gaze with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Right,” he says softly. You’re leaning against the counter and you don’t realize he is too, the space between you two decreasing slowly before he backs away and taps the counter twice. “Order up!”

At the sound of his voice, Seungkwan and Mingyu look over to where you stand, slightly flustered, and reach over to grab their things. The two boys say a chaste goodbye — Mingyu says something about running late to a hangout with the rest of the friend group — but you stay frozen in place. You only move after two awkward beats, Seungkwan jabbing your side with his elbow and giving you an incredulous look.

“We gotta go otherwise Seungcheol’s going to kill us,” he says.

“Oh. Right,” you respond, gripping your to-go cup tightly. “Bye, guys!”

Your eyes linger on Jihoon, who only gives you a small smile before turning to clean something near the coffee machines. Seungkwan and Mingyu meet each other’s eyes over your head, mouthing comments you don’t bother to understand before Seungkwan jabs you again and gestures that it’s time to leave.

As soon as you’re out, Mingyu says, “Jihoon seems nice.”

There’s a mysterious lilt in his voice but you can’t quite figure out what he’s implying. “Yeah, he is.”

Once you arrive at Seungcheol’s apartment, Seungkwan whispers something to Jeonghan who, afterwards, throws you curious glances throughout the entire evening — which, of course, you don’t notice, too focussed on the horror movie playing on the TV.

Seungkwan has no idea where you got the idea that you were observant because you most definitely are not.

► woozi is currently listening to … Bored, Billie Eilish 💿 Bored

“How about an Ariana song?”

“No.”

“Not even six thirty? Come on, man.”

“Nope.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Jihoon shrugs, unaffected by your chastising as he makes paper cranes with the napkins. You conveniently got to the shop a few minutes before his break started — you also insisted that you didn’t even know he was working today, which he finds hard to believe — and he figured that his thirty minutes of freedom are better spent with you than in the back room on his phone.

You give up working on homework the moment Jihoon sits down, deeming the boy and his hesitant smile much more interesting than the project you need to finish for Statistics.

When he immediately shuts down your song suggestion, you drop the subject — something he doesn’t expect — and ask him about the classes he’s taking this semester. You suppose that if you’re going to be bothering him for as long as possible, you might as well try to get to know him, and once he starts talking about his music courses, your eyes soften at how excited he is.

He’s clearly passionate about it, and though you know next to nothing about music, you become entranced by the way he talks about it. His voice, which is usually gentle, becomes more animated and energetic. He leans forward when he explains the different types of mechanisms and productions, never breaking eye contact while his hands fly in the air as he makes different gestures.

You think you could listen to him talk about this forever without becoming sick of it.

You’re so captivated by the words falling from his lips that you don’t notice someone standing in front of your table, and neither does Jihoon until the figure clears his throat in an attempt to capture your attention.

Jeonghan stands nonchalantly, hands tucked in the pockets of his sweatpants. His eyes flicker between you and Jihoon multiple times before they permanently settle on you, and he gives you a smile that creates an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’re about to ask him what he wants, but he beats you to it.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he chirps ominously. You eye him with suspicion but he doesn’t seem to care. “You weren’t answering your messages, but I figured you’d be here,” he raises an eyebrow, throwing Jihoon an indecipherable look, “you always seem to be here.”

You tap your fingers on the table impatiently. It’s not like it’s weird you’ve been spending a lot of time here — ever since freshman year, you and Wonwoo have been stopping by whenever you get the chance. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing,” he says dismissively. “Anyway, Seungkwan’s away game is starting in an hour and I just wanted to know if you’re gonna be carpooling with me and Cheol or if you’ll just go alone.”

You sniff, still trying to spot any questionable things in Jeonghan’s behaviour. “I’ll carpool. When were you guys planning on leaving?”

“In about fifteen minutes. My car’s parked out there, so I figured we could stay here and wait for Seungcheol.”

You glance at Jihoon. “Um, I guess—”

“Awesome!” Jeonghan exclaims and he slides into the spot beside Jihoon. You gape in horror, just as startled by your friend’s behaviour as Jihoon, and watch as Jeonghan sticks his hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, by the way. I’m Jeonghan.”

Jihoon hesitantly shakes his head. “I’m Jihoon.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Um…”

Jeonghan ignores Jihoon’s confusion and flashes a dazzling smile. “So, what were you guys talking about?”

For the last few minutes of Jihoon’s break, you’re surprised that the conversation flows smoothly. You don’t talk much, watching Jeonghan with fearful wariness as he asks Jihoon about giving him some guitar lessons, but just as you’re about to relax, Soonyoung calls Jihoon from the counter and asks him to come back.

He throws you a smile before he slips to the back to adjust his uniform. Once he’s out of sight, Jeonghan’s previous angelic expression disappears, and he fixes you with a look that is all too familiar. He’s plotting something and you aren’t sure whether you’re the victim or the accomplice.

“He seems nice,” he says with the same tone Mingyu used the other day. “How long have you known him?”

“Not that long? A few weeks maybe.”

“Nice,” Jeonghan nods. Then, he smacks you with a question that almost makes you spill your coffee. “Is he single?”

“Huh?”

“There’s someone in my Stats class that might like him,” he says smoothly.

“Who?”

“You don’t know them.”

“We’re in the same Statistics class, Jeonghan.”

“We are?” he says with feigned shock. At your unamused expression, his mouth curls into a smirk. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N, they’re nice. I think Jihoon would like them.”

A bothersome feeling spreads across your chest, and you have to do your best to ignore it. If Jeonghan notices you squirming, he doesn’t say anything about it. “I thought you were fixing Wonwoo up with someone,” you protest quietly, “And I don’t think Jihoon would like it if you started meddling with his love life.”

“I think Wonwoo’s tired of all the matchmaking.”

“He never actually liked it.”

“That’s also true,” Jeonghan agrees. “But you never answered my question. Is Jihoon single?”

“I don’t know,” you respond. “It’s not something we’ve talked about.”

There’s a spark in Jeonghan’s eyes that you’re sure means anything but good. Before you can ask him if there’s something else he’s not telling you, Seungcheol enters the shop, lingering in the entrance as he shouts at the two of you to hurry up.

Jeonghan follows Seungcheol out the door and you trail closely behind. Before you’re out, though, Jihoon taps your shoulder and places a small cup in your hand.

His sheepish smile causes you to soften, and you think you might collapse into mush when he says, “Just something for the road. On the house.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you expected, “Thank you.”

He lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s nothing. Really.”

Your heartbeat quickens and you scurry out of the coffee shop before the stuttering of your chest becomes too unbearable.

► woozi is currently listening to … If By Chance, Ruth B. 💿 Safe Haven

You might have to revoke Wonwoo’s best friend card.

Jeonghan has finally decided to free Wonwoo from his Cupid shenanigans and to celebrate his freedom, Wonwoo has been taking every chance he gets to poke fun at you because as it turns out, you are the new recipient of Jeonghan’s tenacious matchmaking. And Wonwoo makes sure you never forget — he has hourly reminders to text you about eligible bachelors on campus. You’re very close to blocking him.

You enter the coffee shop with a huff. All of your friends have classes at noon on Fridays so you’re savouring this free time as much as you can. You’re looking for a place to sit when your eyes land on Jihoon sitting in a booth that’s almost out of sight — the same booth where the two of you had your first conversation.

He doesn’t see you coming until you settle across from him. You notice the papers littered over the table and the open laptop, and you immediately jump to apologize for disrupting him but he shakes his head and beams.

“You’re not supposed to be working today,” you say because a few days ago he sacrificed his work schedule after you persistently continued to bother him about it. You have it screenshotted on your phone.

“I’m not,” he replies.

“So even when you’re not working you hang out here?”

“Don’t judge me,” Jihoon scoffs. “Might I remind you that you have no life outside of school and this coffee shop?”

You almost grumble that you only ever come here when he’s working — except for today — but you stop yourself. “What are you working on?”

“I’m just adding the finishing touches to this song I composed for class,” he says with a clipped tone. His demeanour shifts from relaxed to defensive and you frown as he brings his notebook closer to his figure before eventually dropping it into his backpack.

You scan his face, unsure of what it is you’re searching for, before slumping back and deciding to let it go. Maybe he just doesn’t want you to see his work, which is understandable.

You try to ignore the dull sting. “And it sounds alright?”

“I hope so,” he hums. “What are you doing here?”

“Avoiding,” you mutter, sliding further down the seat as if you’re hiding from something. Which — well, you are. If your friends go searching for you, this is the first place they’ll stop by, and in hindsight, you probably should’ve gone somewhere else to avoid Jeonghan, but this cafe has a certain aura that draws you toward it. It engulfs you with so much warmth until you’re hot to the touch.

Jihoon’s interest peaks at the sound of your annoyance. “Avoiding what?”

“Jeonghan,” you sniff. “He’s been trying to set me up on dates. Do you know that guy Ian? Frat boy from Alpha Beta Something.”

Jihoon straightens in his chair and nods stiffly. He has nothing against Ian, he met him once through Soonyoung, and he seems like a nice enough guy, but the mention of you and him going on a date floods Jihoon with enough dread to make him go frigid.

“Yeah, well, apparently I’m going out with him tonight,” you glower at the table. “And I’m sure Ian’s nice or whatever, but I don’t want to go on a date with him. Aren’t you supposed to go on a date with someone because you want to?”

The vehemence dripping from your words causes Jihoon to relax a little. “So why don’t you just not go?”

“It’s not that simple,” you sigh. “If I don’t go then Jeonghan will ask me why and when I give him an excuse he’ll just go, ‘Well, I think you’re lying, Y/N. Give me the real reason,’ and I won’t be able to give him the real reason because…”

Jihoon blinks. “Because…?”

You let out a harsh breath. “It’s stupid.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

“It kind of is,” you scoff incredulously, almost as if you’re astonished by your own idiocy. “Have you ever had a crush on someone? The kind of crush that just hits you out of nowhere and overwhelms you with so many feelings that sometimes you find it difficult to breathe?”

What you’re describing should sound outlandish — it’s the type of emotion Jihoon sees in early 2010 sitcoms. It’s suffocating and refreshing all at the same time, and it’s hard to tell if it’s just intense infatuation or real, true feelings because they come all at once. It’s a tsunami of butterflies and racing heartbeats and Jihoon used to think it was completely unrealistic.

But he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

He nods in affirmation and that’s all you need to continue talking.

“Well, if I tell Jeonghan about this, all he would do is push me to confess when I don’t want to. At least not yet, because it’s hard to tell someone you like them when you lose all self-control when you’re around them. Like everything goes to auto-pilot.”

Impulsively, Jihoon questions, “Who do you have these feelings for?”

“I—what?”

He realizes too late what he’s just asked and flushes bright red. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that—”

You choke out an, “It’s fine,” before clearing your throat and sloppily steering the topic of conversation to the new limited drink on the menu. It’s a boring topic to talk about, but Jihoon’s grateful for the change because he would rather forget the other conversation.

Who could you possibly like?

He doesn’t get a chance to ask you because you’re pulled away from him a few minutes later by a delighted Jeonghan who declares to the entire café that tonight you are going on a first date with someone who could potentially be the love of your life. Before the door closes behind you, you timidly wave to Jihoon and he returns the gesture, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest as you disappear.

He is unable to get out of his mind for the next two hours he spends at the coffee shop.

► woozi is currently listening to … august, Taylor Swift 💿 folklore

Unlike the majority of the population, Jihoon likes opening shifts.

He basks in the silence, enjoying the few hours he has in solitude before a customer comes in. Saturday mornings are the slowest of the week, so as Jihoon sluggishly turns the sign from Closed to Open, he’s happy. There will be little to no customers, so he’ll have peace for the next few hours before Jun comes barrelling in for his shift at eleven.

He grabs the stool from the back and places it behind the counter so he can sit while working on his music and simultaneously man the front. His hand works at a remarkable pace as he scribbles on the pages of his notebook, annotating the lyrics of the song he wrote on a whim last night — it might not be the best thing he’s ever written, but it’s quite good for a two A.M. creation.

He’s just about to work on the second verse when he hears the door swing open. He frowns after glancing at his watch, noting how early it is before he looks up and realizes it’s you. And once he shoves down the immediate joy, his confusion grows.

Why are you awake at nine A.M. on a Saturday?

But once you approach, Jihoon is given his answer. There are evident bags under your eyes and your movements are lethargic; either you didn’t get much sleep or you didn’t sleep at all.

“Hi,” you murmur. You tug at the sleeves of your sweater to assure they’re way past your fingertips before smiling lazily at Jihoon. “Working hard?”

He ignores your question. “Why are you here?”

You falter at the unintentional rigour in his voice. “Oh. Well, I remembered you have a shift today, so…”

“You could’ve come later, though,” he tuts with a shake of his head. “Did you even sleep?”

“A bit.”

“Clearly not enough,” he muses.

“Is it that obvious?”

He fiddles with his pen as he scans your face. “Only a little,” he confirms, “nothing some coffee won’t fix.”

You quickly shove your hands into your pockets, searching for something that isn’t there. “Maybe next time. I didn’t bring any money.”

He dismisses you with a simple wave. “No, it’s fine,” he assures you. He’s halfway towards the coffee machine when another wave of perplexity hits him. “Wait, you don’t have money? Why did you come here then?”

You give him a look. “I told you already. I remembered that you had a shift.”

“So you came here to…?”

“See you.”

Jihoon ignores the relentless thumps against his chest. “Without cash?”

“Without cash,” you repeat.

He carefully slides the cup of coffee towards you, studying your every move. Despite your voice being louder than the music playing through the speakers, Jihoon still manages to tune you out. He follows your sloth-like movements, the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment too long, and wonders what you could have possibly done last night to warrant such exhaustion.

Then, he remembers.

“How was your date?”

Either you do a brilliant job of hiding your surprise at being asked such a sudden question, or you knew this was coming.

“It was OK.”

And that’s all you say.

Jihoon frowns. “What did you guys do?”

“Dinner and a movie,” you say monotonously. “Sounds exhilarating, right?”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

“I am,” you sigh. “Ian’s a nice person, I guess, but I don’t think there’ll be another date.”

Jihoon puts up a facade of nonchalance when he asks, “And what about that person you were talking about yesterday?” Out of the corner of his eye, you stiffen. “How are things going with them?”

A beat that drags on for too long. Then — “Good. Things could be better but,” you explain, tugging your ear, “I’m taking what I can get.”

“That’s good.”

Awkwardly, you clear your throat. “Mhm.” Then you change the subject after glancing down at his songwriting book. “Is this a new song?”

He nods. “Yeah, I wrote it last night.”

“What’s it about?”

“Oh,” Jihoon ducks his head to avoid eye contact. He thinks about the song he was working on the last time he saw you — he refrained from giving you a peek, afraid that once you scanned the lyrics you’d be able to see right through him. He’s poured his entire being into that song. Traces of his heart, soul, and feelings linger on each lyric, and yesterday, when you slid into the seat across from him, he was overcome with fear.

But then it dissipated into nothing the moment you said something along the lines of “I’m going on a date with Ian the Frat Boy from Alpha Beta Something, and he seems like a nice guy, but when has nice ever been enough?”

This time, a new song sits in front of him, just as heartfelt as the other, and he shows it to you with no hesitation.

You raise your eyebrows, not expecting Jihoon to be so willing to share, but you read his work nonetheless. As you read through, Jihoon sits uncomfortably on his chair, anxiously fidgeting with anything he can get his hands on. When he deems you’ve been quiet for too long, terror begins to creep its way back into the crevices of his brain but is quickly squashed down when you look up at him and smile.

He would do anything to have you look at him like that again.

“This is so good!” you praise, clapping your hands. “Once you record this you should play it here.”

Jihoon laughs. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, please,” you beg, sandwiching his hands in between yours. You clutch them in desperation and Jihoon’s heartbeat quickens dangerously. “For me.”

Something in his mind explodes when your eyes soften.

“Fine,” he grumbles but the grin plastered across his face is enough for you to determine that he is anything but annoyed at you.

► woozi is currently listening to … King Of My Heart, Taylor Swift 💿 reputation

A night of karaoke and Just Dance at Seungkwan’s has demanding consequences, so by the time you arrive back at Wonwoo’s apartment, you’re exhausted. He’s been kind enough to let you stay for the night, seeing as you’re too tired to get behind the wheel and drive ten minutes to your place. And also you’re convinced that his couch is a lot more comfortable than your cheap mattress.

Once you settle on the sofa, you scroll through the notifications on your phone. Seungcheol has wasted no time in embarrassing your entire friend group, tagging all of you in an Instagram story where everyone is shouting the lyrics to Toxic by Britney Spears. You scowl and send him a colourful message, begging him to delete the post.

You’re about to turn off your phone when you spot the red bubble hovering over the messages app, and your heart leaps to your throat when you realize Jihoon texted you hours ago.

He doesn’t say much. The first message is his work schedule for next week and the following is a picture of Jun spilling coffee on his apron. At midnight, just two hours ago, he sent you a goodnight text with the sparkly pink heart emoji.

It’s not much, you remind yourself, and yet you feel like you’re soaring. You’re certain the entire apartment building can feel your happiness through the walls.

You aren’t sure how long you stare at your phone. You’d probably be staring at it forever if Wonwoo hadn’t walked out of the bathroom, hair wet from his shower. He sends you a skeptical glance you completely miss before loudly clearing his throat. “What are you looking at?”

“TikToks,” you say. You’re quick on your feet, he’ll give you that, but he’s known you long enough to see through a lie.

“There’s no sound coming from your phone.”

“I’m reading the captions.”

“I don’t think staring intensely at the screen would be considered reading,” he states drily. He sits on the opposite end of the couch, sporting an authoritative expression that you know means nothing but bad for you. Wonwoo is always sputtering out words of wisdom, but they cut you deeper late at night when you’re vulnerable and your emotions are at an all-time high. “Are you texting Jihoon?”

You look at him like he’s grown another head. “Why would you immediately jump to that conclusion?”

“Something in your face changes when you talk to him. It’s very… what’s the word,” he smacks his lips together, glancing up towards the ceiling in thought. You aren’t sure if he’s actually searching for the correct term or if he’s just pausing for dramatic effect. “Ah — lovesick.”

“What?”

“It sounds about right, doesn’t it?”

“What the f—?”

“You know,” Wonwoo interrupts. He shuts down your protests, swatting your words away as if they’re as worthless as a bug. No refusal is stopping him from declaring his observations. At this hour, self-control has thrown itself out the window — exhaustion plagues him just as much as your naivety, “Jeonghan had this plan. Everyone knew about it. He was growing tired of you and Jihoon tiptoeing around each other so he figured that if he set you up on a date, it’d push one of you to confess. ‘Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder,’ he said, and he stuck by it even though I told him that isn’t the expression.”

You stare at him in shock. Surprise rattles your bones and yet all you manage to say is, “Why are you telling me this?”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Because it didn’t work, so I’m putting matters into my own hands,” he inhales. For a moment, you swear he’s about to say something meaningful and deep, but instead he grinds out a comment that drips with chagrin. “Jihoon like you, you idiot.”

Blinking, you retort, “How do you know that? You barely know him.”

“It’s extremely obvious. It surprises me that you haven’t noticed it,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “He looks at you like he’s at the Louvre staring at the Mona fucking Lisa. He’s in amazement every time he’s with you. How could you not notice that?” Before you can jump to deny Wonwoo’s remarks, he sighs, “I’m right about this, Y/N. Ask anyone. Text Soonyoung or Jun right now and they’ll tell you.”

Something flickers in your eyes. Uncertainty. Wonwoo deflates.

“Trust me. I mean, would I ever lie to you about something like this?”

He wouldn’t. Wonwoo never lies in the first place, and when he does it’s easy to tell.

You sigh. “You’re certain?”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow and squeezes your shoulder before standing up. He’s on his way to his bedroom when he says, “There’s no doubt about it.”

► woozi is currently listening to … The Only Exception, Paramore 💿 Brand New Eyes

Jihoon is running on little to no sleep.

He’s working the opening shift again, something his iPhone delightfully reminds him about at seven A.M., forcing him to ignore the painful crick in his neck he received from falling asleep face-down on his desk. His uniform isn’t even on properly — his light grey shirt, which is supposed to be tucked into his pants, hangs at mid-thigh, too big for his figure. He wonders if he somehow accidentally switched shirts with Jun.

His brain isn’t working, but he somehow manages to drag himself out of the house and walks the five-minute journey from his apartment to the coffee shop. Once he’s across the street, he digs through his bag to find the keys. The task takes him too long — and after two minutes he realizes that the keys were in his pocket the entire time.

God. He is never sleeping at four A.M. ever again.

When he reaches the shop, he expects it to be empty. They’re closed, after all, but a loiterer is sitting outside the locked door. Jihoon has to rub his eyes harshly in order to be completely sure that he isn’t seeing things.

You stand when you see Jihoon approach, nervous and jittery. He stops slowly, suspicion growing when you make no move to greet him. He spots the dark circles under your eyes immediately, but unlike him, energy courses through you. You’re rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet and shaking your hands in anticipation. For a moment, Jihoon thinks he imagined your signs of sleep deprivation.

“Um… We’re not open yet.”

“I know. I just needed to talk to you.”

“Now?” he asks incredulously. Not that he’s not happy to see you (he’s always happy to see you), he’s just surprised. He knows for a fact you don’t have any classes (while you studied his schedule, he studied yours) so he can’t come up with a reason why you’re here. “But it’s so early.”

You follow him into the shop once he’s unlocked the door. “It couldn’t wait.”

He gives you a confused look over his shoulder. “Is everything OK?”

“Yeah, I… I was just told this crazy thing yesterday.”

That’s not what Jihoon thought you would say. “Uh… OK?” he questions, voice rising a pitch at his confusion. You find it charming, hence the small smile on your face, but the sight of it causes embarrassment to colour his cheeks. “That’s nice, I guess. What was it?”

You surprise both him and yourself when you blurt out, “Wonwoo told me you like me.”

“What?”

“He told me everyone knew,” you continue as Jihoon stammers. Panic flashes across his face and he searches his brain for believable excuses. Anything to dismiss the accusations. “And that all of our friends are, apparently, tired of us tiptoeing around each other. Jeonghan was scheming behind our backs, too.”

It seems the only words Jihoon can say are, “What?”

“He set me up on that date with Ian to make you jealous. Or to make me confess. I don’t know. The details are blurry,” you say. The roles have been reversed — Jihoon’s previous low-energy behaviour is replaced with your frantic one, while you seem to be a whole lot calmer now that you’ve gotten some things off your chest. “That’s not the point. The point is you like me.”

“Wha—?”

“I thought about it last night,” you explain. “I thought about everything. When I was here a few weeks ago, Soonyoung told me that you’re different around me. At first, I didn’t understand what he was getting at, but now I do, and it’s crazy that it took me so long because, now that I think about it, he was not subtle about it at all—”

“Y/N—”

“—and then I thought about your song. And, like, I don’t want to sound like a narcissistic asshole right now, but I… I think it’s about me, right?” Hope tints your words. “All those lyrics about someone unexpectedly coming into your life and spinning your world on its axis… I know I sound full of myself, but in my head, all of it makes sense. In my head, the puzzle pieces fit.”

The silence is deafening. And you aren’t very patient.

“So?”

Jihoon gulps. “So what?”

“Am I right?”

The hope radiating off of you somehow infects him. He is high on happiness and astonishment when he says, “Yes.”

The next few seconds are fuzzy, and Jihoon isn’t sure who initiates the kiss first. But that detail isn’t important to him — he’s too focused on the way you taste like orange juice and toothpaste and how your hands settle on his neck. The touch of your fingers against his skin sends jolts through his entire body. Caffeine couldn’t have woken him up like this.

When you pull away, you’re grinning. Jihoon is sure that the entire world just got brighter.

You surprise him again when you cheekily say, “Does this mean I get to pick the music that plays here now?”

Jihoon tilts his head back as his laughter bounces off the walls. He doesn’t think he’s smiled this wide in years. “Are you seriously asking me about this now?”

“Well, duh,” you’re playing with the hair at the back of his neck when you suggest, “I’m thinking we play Doja Cat. Something from Planet Her. Or maybe some overplayed pop song you always hear on the radio.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes playfully. “Fine.”

Your eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he dusts off some lint on your shoulder when he adds, “I guess I gotta make exceptions for my girlfriend, right?”

► woozi is currently listening to … Kiss Me More (feat. SZA), Doja Cat 💿 Planet Her

“So you’re telling me that if I had just gotten you to fall in love with me, you would’ve given me permission to control the music?”

“What? Soonyoung, what are you talking about?”

“Let the man speak, Jihoon, he’s got a point.”

“No, Jun, he absolutely does not.”

“Aw, Soon, look. He’s blushing!”

“Dude, you’re so red. How whipped are you for Y/N? We only mentioned them once.”

“Please go back to work and leave me alone.”

#woozi #lee jihoon #seventeen #svt #lee jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #woozi scenarios #svt scenarios #woozi fluff #svt fluff #woozi imagines #svt imagines #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #fic: heartache and a latte

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