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dropsofletters · 1 year

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people you know to people you don’t

summary: she’s a believer that love will be found in unknown fairytales, men who sweet talk and mysterious, unknown situationships. nonetheless, it’d a surprise for her if she was told that lee donghyuck, her best friend’s little cousin could be a possibility.

i mean...he is only her annoying friend, isn’t he? it couldn’t lead anywhere else. ever.

title: people you know to people you don’t. pairing: lee donghyuck x reader (ft. nakamoto yuta x reader) type: childhood friends to idiots to lovers!au ; lovers to exes!au ; slowburn!au ; small town!au ; cousin’s best friend!au ; drummer!haechan ; twitch gamer!yuta ; law student!oc ; just lots and lots of backstory, deal with it. word count: 15k words, i’m sorry. genre: fluff ; slice of life ; angst ; drama ; humor ; suggestive content note: this was the result of a poll i did late february on this blog. keep your eyes open for more polls.

DONGHYUCK’S LAMEST SUMMER: SEVEN YEARS AGO.

She’d write it in a book if she could. Yangyang’s laughter was the perfect epitome of an onomatopoeia. Ha-Ha-Ha in its purest form, with tears rolling down his eyes and his head tossed back as Eunbyul catches him just in time before he falls down the blue plastic chair he dragged in front of the computer.

What they were supposed to be doing was writing a geography project about Japan, the place they picked to talk about, and its cultural richness. Yangyang said they could talk about anime, and she shrugged it off before they came across with the file. Actually, she’d capitalize it. The File. As in, The X Files. As in, Donghyuck’s societal death.

In all honesty, when Yangyang saw a file titled ‘For The Tube’, he could have ignored it. Could have, should have. But from what she knows about her two best friends is that Yangyang can’t stay still for once and Eunbyul follows after his every word. Blame it on the obvious relationship that they try to hide from her and her clammy hands whenever he does so much as smile to her girl best friend, but that’s a story for another time.

Using Eunbyul’s little cousin’s laptop was one thing. Eunbyul’s mother had filed for divorce against her father and they had stayed over at Donghyuck’s house for the past year, with the excuse of going away once things started looking up for Mrs. Lee. They don’t seem to be doing so any time soon, so they got to meet Eunbyul the latest school year. They quickly became close, and met Donghyuck along the way. That didn’t mean they had any right to look around his stuff.

Yangyang didn’t listen to her, and while she expected to see huge tits and piles of porn, this was much worse. Come on, he’s fifteen, it would have been better if he was just searching for boobs online.

It was Donghyuck’s music career in just one file, and she had heard him sing in the shower once. During February, when she had forgotten her purse in Eunbyul’s bathroom and she had flown back inside to pick it up before they went to the mall, only to apologize once she walked in as Donghyuck shrieked after being cut off from his singing. She apologized, but that redemption of Maroon 5’s ‘This Love’ was actually pretty darn good.

He’s a singer, perhaps a dancer though she hasn’t seen it. He’s not a rapper, by any means, considering that he’s standing in front of his phone’s camera, with a hoodie on top of a cap he has pulled back, his black bangs standing through the slit, with clothes too big while he is rapping to Vanilla Ice’s ‘Ice, Ice Baby.’

Badly. Oh God, what was Donghyuck thinking exactly?

Then, he started popping and that’s when Yangyang actually lost it.

“Okay, I gotta tell him. I can’t die with this in my chest.” Yangyang stands up, consequently making Eunbyul trip onto her chair as she stares at him with wide eyes.

“Tell him what?” His two friends, or childhood best friend and girlfriend, say in unison while looking at him. For someone as lanky and quite possibly stupidly confident as him, Yangyang liked living his life with the thrill of being a bit of an asshole. A heartfelt asshole, with a good soul right at the center of his chest, but still one.

“That we have a new nickname for him.”

The worst part of being friends with Yangyang (he’s good, mostly, she has cried watching The Notebook with him, so she knows he’s soft at the core) is that they are included in whatever trouble he gets into. So, when he rushes out of Eunbyul’s room, they go after him. The house is not that big, so the white and black kitchen in which Donghyuck is in. He’s holding a bag of cheerios upside town trying to pour the last few bits that are more like dust into a milky plate when Yangyang says it.

“What’s up, Vanilla Ice?”

Donghyuck’s right eyebrows moves the slightest, like a tick of some sort. He looks up at Yangyang, trying to play it off as confusion while he lays most of his body on the counter. His small chest is pushed forward, dark bangs falling on his forehead. “Yangyang, we all know that you’ll eventually end up being a junkie somewhere downtown, but what kind of weed are you on?”

Straight-on, and Eunbyul is about to open her mouth to defend Yangyang (again, the whole dating-not-dating thing is quite obvious at this point), when the man himself makes it worse. “I don’t know, you tell me, is it a totally sober decision to record yourself rapping? Because if so, whew, even I make better decisions than you, Vanilla Ice.”

Never had she seen Donghyuck move so quickly, and that comes from the man that every PE teacher complains about because he never wants to do much other than gossip by the bleachers. Now, he’s face to face with his cousin. “You looked through my stuff!”

“Just say that Yangyang did.” She mumbles, but Eunbyul completely ignores her.

“We just clicked on it accidentally!”

“It could have been something private!”

“Oh, trust me,” Once again, she’s speaking softly, and maybe she should stop doing it because Donghyuck’s now frowning at her. “It would have been better if it was your stack of porn.”

“Get over it.” Eunbyul’s trying to play the tough girl card, probably to defend Yangyang, as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Vanilla Ice.”

Now, she’s not vanilla ice, but she’s cheerios with milk with how Donghyuck pours his whole bowl of breakfast on her head. Eunbyul does so much as scream before Donghyuck stomps away from the kitchen. In all honesty, she would have loved to go after him and tell him that it’s just another stupid nickname from good-old-dumb Yangyang.

But, in all honesty, all those years after which she got to further know Donghyuck, everyone in her friend-group called him Vanilla Ice, so some decisions are taken by life itself.

SUMMERS ARE EVEN WORSE WHEN YOU ARE IN COLLEGE. TWO YEARS AGO.

Alright, so twenty-one sucks. Her two best friends had just broken-up for the first time in what seems like forever and now she’s stuck in a beach party with Yangyang, smelling like greasy hot dogs with corn and wearing a tank top over a bikini top that truthfully looked better online than it did on her chest. Those boobs aren’t for that top, that’s for sure.

At twenty-one, she imagined she’d be a little adult just flickering her way through the pages of life. It’d be like a math problem that she had solved on her first day of school and never found much complexity in it. Only that life is much harder than she imagined, both socially, mentally and economically. Eunbyul and she had eaten hot-spicy ramen as cookies instead of boiling it because they didn’t have any water these days, and that’s enough on economy.

The crisp air bites at her shoulders, leaning the side of her body against Yangyang’s shoulder. One of his hands is up, the other clinging onto a beer bottle, while both of her hands are up. Seven fingers up, bathed in the glow of the bonfire in front of her, only putting the two fingers left on her second hand down when she grabs the third hot-dog of the night and bites into it. She sees her ex staring at her lips briefly, and soon after, he returns his gaze to the other people around them.

Felix was a good start for last October. She almost thought that he could be the one. Four dates and daily texts for four whole months and then, it was over just like how it started. Nothing more than a few kisses and lingering touches happened, if she’s not counting the promises he sputtered. However, the long strands of his blonde hair and his rosy lips still haunt her to this day, because there is some anger that lingers within her.

The loss of time, perhaps, or the fact that he dignified a lot of firsts for her. Her first midnight call which lasted more than five hours. Her first sneaking out experience. Her first make-out in an empty cinema. He felt like forever and would never, ever be the same in her head. Not when he admitted to a few of their mutual friends that he just wanted to test the waters with her and then, it got deeper than what they could both control. Hence, he cut it off.

Oh, and being an experiment is what drives her insane, because she has seven fingers up and he has only two left. He’s clearly more experienced than she is. Must have a laugh remembering the little they did.

Because Yangyang has put a finger down about skinny dipping, and more than half of the circle put another down when talking about weed, but each and every single nasty question is met with silence from her. Even her questions are stupid. Never have I ever hidden alcohol from my parents. Never had I ever had a crush on a neighbor. They all put it down, not her.

What does it for her is when Felix, in all his confident glory of being a guy…because that’s what guys at twenty-one are, just fucking dudes trying to play themselves off as gentlemen, is when with a smug grin he asks, leaning back on the log that is behind him, the flannel of his shirt extending around his slim waist.

“Never have I ever had sex at a party.”

She puts a finger down when his deep-brown eyes lay on her. Just to spite him, as if to tell him that there was someone else after him. He knows that she hasn’t done much with anybody; being him whom she got farther with and it was a hand down his pants before she said she wasn’t ready. He respected it and she respects all the shades of red that take over his face when he looks at her hand.

Because she’s pretending as if she’s not a virgin just to get back to her ex and that’s…magical.

After that round is over, two more questions erase Felix and another girl from the circle, but Yangyang leans to her side, whispering into her ear: “What was that whole stare-off with Felix?”

“He’s trying to get at me.”

“He’s just drunk and playing a game.”

“Well, it looks like a fucking dare. He keeps laughing with his friends that I have two hands up.”

Yangyang doesn’t roll his eyes, because he may be a douchebag to most people, but like she has always said, there is a reason why she is friends with Yangyang. Instead, he inspects her features and just then, she realizes the trembling of her hands, the pattering of her heart, the shame. Yes, shame, because that is what women are brought to when they are young. Feeling ashamed that they trusted a man that didn’t love them as they should have. The inept nature of them is blamed on who loves the hardest.

“Fuck him, but the best way to say fuck him is by showing him just how good you are on your own while also staying true to yourself.” Yangyang speaks the truth, and maybe if her bikini wasn’t so uncomfortable and if she didn’t still have sand up her shorts from the dive she had in the afternoon, she’d listen to him. Tonight, at eleven, is not the night that she’s going to finally hear to Yangyang’s rare wise words.

“The best way to taint a man’s ego is to make him feel like I’ve met someone whose dick is finally interesting enough for me to get farther than with other men.”

“No.”

“Yangyang, think about it. The thought of Eunbyul being with someone else, and hey, I’m not saying feelings are involved or not, that’s none of my business…” She trails her voice, elbowing his side and making a bit of his new beer bottle spill. “Makes you heat up a little bit, doesn’t it?”

“That’s different, we actually had a relationship.” Yangyang takes a gulp of his beer bottle. “You are always stuck in situationships.”

“No man ever wants to be serious with me.”

“Because you stay with them even when they give you a thousand red flags.”

“Name a man with no red flags.”

“Uh…me?”

“Yangyang, you’re a walking red flag.”

“I’m a nice magenta shade, mind you.” She stands up at that moment, because she has only had pineapple juice in exponential amounts and hot dogs, but it’s starting to get to her bladder. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she tells him she’ll be back in ten minutes and soon after, she ventures into the world of Aida’s household.

She doesn’t pay much attention to the bamboo walls or the pretty fountain in the middle. She’s off to the bathroom and finishing her business quickly, only to be stopped when she’s stepping out and wiping her hands on her tank top. Felix stands in front of her, with the same round eyes that last year had told her that she deserved nothing but the best, lips plumper thanks to the alcohol, voice as deep as she remembered it.

“...I didn’t know you had met someone else after me.” Felix utters, though he’s drunk and oozes alcohol, dozing off on his own thoughts. “You told me you had never slept with someone before. How…? Who…? Who changed that?”

There it is. The ego, the intrigue, just what she wanted. To have him thinking of her even a miniscule second, because she sure as hell spent nights crying about what they never were. Only that the simplest answer is, of course:

“None of your business, Felix.”

“I know, God, I know…” Voice growing decibels deeper, he leans back on the wall in front of the bathroom before huffing loudly. “I’m just…have you met someone else? Is it Yangyang? You always told me you and Yangyang were never a thing.”

“And we weren’t! We aren’t!”

“Then…?”

Timing is always wrong when it comes to these kinds of situations. Or a bit right, even. The hallway is empty enough for it not to seem like a coincidence when Donghyuck slips into it, looking down at his phone and drumming with his free hand on his jean-cladded thigh, but when both Felix and herself look at him, it’s like it clicks on her head.

“It’s Donghyuck.”

That’s an answer for Felix, but the confused cousin of her best friend can only answer. “...Yeah, it’s me? Hi. That is my name.”

Bingo.

Donghyuck had grown a bit in his twenties. His hair had gone through a few changes, but now he’s back to pitch black, slicked back, matching the hoodie he has under his jean jacket that reads ‘The Misfits’ in the background. Not that they go along with the khakis he brought to this party, but he makes it work. His cheeks were as round as ever, but paired with a sleek jaw and interestingly relaxed eyes. Being part of a band definitely did him good.

The band started over two years ago; she remembers his debut was during Donghyuck’s prom, which she had attended with him just because he didn’t want to pursue the whole ritual of inviting someone whom he was dating. They never talked, but she got to see him behind the drums. The Dry Flower included Donghyuck as the drummer and some of his friends. Renjun is the singer, though she hasn’t talked much to him. Niamh on the guitar and Jooyeon as the bassist.

They play a few gigs here and there, as far as she hears from Eunbyul, but after she moved out of his place, she only sees Donghyuck at very special events. Like parties, as this one.

“I, uh, you two know each other?” Felix asks and Donghyuck doesn’t look at him like he’s the most interesting person in this world. In fact, he looks a bit bored.

“Yes.” They reply in unison, though Donghyuck keeps walking towards one of the rooms, only to leave her there with Felix.

A few beads of silence pass by like the sweat pooling on her forehead, leaning back and forth on her boots before Felix clears his throat.

“You two are dating, I imagine.”

No. For the love of God, she wouldn’t date Vanilla Ice. Not because he’s not handsome, but there has never been that chemistry between the two. Like two logs staring at each other in the middle of a lake.

“Yes, so if you’ll excuse me…” What is she supposed to say here? I’m going to have sex with Donghyuck now, let me be?

She doesn’t say much more, turning around and trying her hardest not to run inside the room like a madwoman. She opens the door and closes it behind her with a soft thud, but the sigh that she lets out and the following gasp is enough of an answer for her that this lie won’t be easy to keep.

The hoodie that Donghyuck had been wearing is forgotten on the floor for a second before he’s pulling it up to his chest to cover his body. Glowing tanned skin is barely visible under the dim lights of the guest room that they are probably in, but just before Donghyuck can scream at her about what she’s doing there, she rushes to the top of the bed, splaying a hand on his mouth and speaking a little too close to his face.

“Vanilla Ice, I know you don’t necessarily like me and that we aren’t really friends, but if I asked you for one big favor including you not screaming after I pull my hand off, would you do it?”

Donghyuck doesn’t like cooperating, that’s for sure, and when he sticks his tongue out, she doesn’t relent. His eyes squint, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand off his mouth before speaking softly. “Explain in a sentence that doesn’t excuse yourself and I’ll think about this favor. You’re…suspicious.”

“What would you think if I accidentally linked you with me?”

“I asked for an explanation, not a question.”

She places her hands on her knees, ignoring the fact that it’s weird that she’s with Eunbyul’s cousin in an empty room, on her knees, standing in front of him as he’s shirtless. Nothing sexual about this, though.

“I may have lied to my ex…situationship.” She answers, looking to the side and inspecting Aida’s guest room, that might as well be empty and yet, still feel cramped and humid. She doesn’t like lying and the anxiety that comes with it. “Felix finds it glorious that I haven’t had much of a dating life after him. Or any dating life, whatsoever. So, while we were playing ‘Never Have I Ever’, I made it seem like I had sex after him. Hence, he was asking me whom I was sleeping with, you just popped inside the room and then…”

Donghyuck presses his lips together before sighing. “You…I was just trying to sleep after drinking and you got me in this kind of trouble?!” He whispers-yells before plopping himself next to her. He lets the hoodie pool on his lap, completely forgetting to cover himself and from her peripheral, Donghyuck is soft in all the perfect ways. “Felix is an asshole if he is pissed off about that, you know that, right? You slept with him, then with someone else. It’s called the cycle of life.”

She toys with the ripped edges of her shorts, playing with her bottom lip before dramatically throwing herself backwards on the bed. “That’s what you don’t get, Vanilla Ice.”

He doesn’t relent about the name like he did years before, instead asking: “I don’t get what isn’t explained to me. I’m a genius, but not like all the fucking time.”

Looking at the dark ceiling, all the bundled up emotions come into confusion for her. Because yes, she feels at ease with not doing anything more than just touching, but at the same time…she wouldn’t mind people believing otherwise so they would just get off her back and ignore the obvious heartbreak that came with her thing with Felix.

“I’m a virgin.” She confesses, rolling her eyes. “And you can laugh at me all you want. I just want people to believe I’m not; not because I’m ashamed, but because that’s the only way you can poke fun at assholes. Make them believe that there was someone much better than them that did get into your pants and they didn’t. It’s silly, immature, all of that, yes Donghyuck, I know-”

“Uh-huh, go on.”

“This is when you stop me.”

“No, I want you to think about what you’re doing.”

She turns around, only to see that he had laid down as well, staring at where she had been looking before. “I’m a stupid virgin that still has some resentment about the fact that her first love was someone who never really loved her to start with.”

Donghyuck stays silent for a few seconds, turning to look at her and quirking an eyebrow. That small tick that she always noticed on him. “Felix is an asshole. An asshole who will always win no matter what you do. He will get good money, a happy family, and also be the popular dad in the block. That’s who he is. You didn’t shape or change him, but him not being yours was of help for your future, even if it doesn’t look like it.”

“Yeah…” She mumbles. “I’m sorry for threading you in all of this.”

“Fuck yes, but here’s what we’re going to do.” Donghyuck puts his hoodie on, rubbing at his tired eyes and sighing deeply. “I’ll drunkenly step out to the party, because you’ve sobered me up with this whole plan, and I’ll say some stupid comment about-”

“No.”

“What?”

“You’re not making sexual comments about me.”

“I can say your ass is nice or something like that. I promise it won’t be like the worst shit.”

“How about this? We can go about this silently and keep your feminist reputation intact.” Donghyuck’s lips quiver up the slightest at that. That may be a smile, but when she stands up and states her plan to him, he loses that smile. “I give you my bikini bottom and you put in in your pocket. Ask one of the gossipers to take care of your jacket and boom, they find the pair of panties and-”

“Ew!”

“Donghyuck, they are used panties, but I’ll buy you another jacket, I promise. You won’t even have to touch them.”

“That’s…how do you even come up with these things?”

“Some guys keep memories of who they slept with.”

“I am not one of those guys.”

She picks up his jacket from the floor and then, struts towards the bathroom, hearing Donghyuck’s complaints and steps behind her.

The party ends up with Donghyuck leaving his jacket with Soohyun, the nursing student that no one tells their secrets to and yet, she’s aware of everything, before he’s off to sleep the drunkenness off. She’s with Yangyang, asking him for his jacket to wrap around her hips when she says:

“Donghyuck is a panties-collector! Who is wearing a yellow bikini in this place?” Soohyun’s voice lingers with mischief and when her sharp eyes settle on her body, she knows the dots have been connected.

Now, Donghyuck will be marked as the hook up that got her to forget about Lee Felix.

LIFE DOESN'T GET ANY EASIER, AND ADULTHOOD FEELS LIKE CLOSURE. THE PRESENT.

She would have never realized that what she just had was a dream. The confession from Henry Cavill himself as he sputtered out his apologies for a fake love was quite frankly accompanied with a warmth that she would have loved to hold onto. Nonetheless, it seems like the moment with the actor is cut short when she feels a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist, belonging to the shaking shoulders that hug her from behind.

Eunbyul had moved in with her all those years before she had broken up with Yangyang and she had been quick to change places so it would only be the two of them as roomies. It felt rather odd, if she was honest. Eunbyul had always lived in a relationship, sharing houses with Yangyang from the moment they all graduated high school, but having her best friend by her side was always a good thing to wake up to.

Now, their friendship is not precisely any closer because of this. Law school involves a lot of hardships and while both her and Yangyang continued down this path, Eunbyul didn't. She married the idea of having her own bakery and now, she owns a little boutique bakery downtown, which has a few clients, if she does say so herself. They don't spend much time together, and she definitely doesn't slip into her covers like this.

"Byul…" She trails, sleepily patting a hand around until she finds Eunbyul's shoulder. She pulls her closer, resting her chin on the top of her friend's dyed light brown hair. "What's the matter?"

"Yangyang texted me." Her shoulders shake even more with every weep she lets out, and while she knows that Eunbyul's chubby body emanates warmth, her heart has been cold for plenty of years. "...I…He said he could only see himself with me. Why does he do this? It's like I can't ever get over him."

They are both her friends, and that makes it a little difficult to be opinionated. She knows both of them were faithful to their relationship. As a matter of fact, she thought they would be forever, one of those stories that one would hear in upbeat songs on the radio.

"...You two were great together, Byul, and I do believe in returning to a place if you recognize a little too late that it was your home."

"It's just…how does he know I am his home?" That question is whispered between them. "He has never had anything else. Anyone else. How will we know if…if he won't want to be with someone else later on or sleep with someone else or…?"

"All valid questions to be asked in a relationship." She prompts, sighing deeply and letting the tips of her fingers play with the curls of her friend's hair. "But those doubts will come with any man that decides to settle down with you. Regardless of him being Yangyang or not."

"I know."

"Then, if Yangyang has always felt like the one, why not try it with him whom you have a bunch of history with and apart from that, he actually really wants to be with you?"

"I broke up with him so he would be with other people and realize that he didn't just want me."

Okay, she should not have scoffed, but she did. Eunbyul is perhaps the biggest romance enthusiast she knows and then, she dares say shit like this. "Said no one ever."

"Hey!"

"Eunbyul, who the fuck wants the love of their life to sleep with someone else?"

"Me!"

"Cuck alert."

A smack lands on her chest and she hisses when Eunbyul accidentally hits her boob. "That's the main reason why you are single."

"Out of many others." She answers, only to have Eunbyul sigh.

"I love him." Those words would be nice to hear. At times, she wonders why she has never been loved. Is it her personality, her immense will and need to be successful? Is it the throbbing of her heart that falls a little too fast? She would never know.

But at this age, very close to being a lawyer, she would have imagined that she would have been loved.

"I know you do."

"It's been two years and I can't get rid of that."

"How do you un-fall in love with someone who did no wrong? That is just nonsense, you."

Eunbyul groans, pushing her body upwards before sighing. "Is 'How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?' on Netflix?"

"Doubt so."

"We are illegally downloading it and sighing over Matthew. Alright? Alright. Movie night."

That is how she spent the entirety of her midnight watching rom-coms with Eunbyul instead of sleeping before a grand presentation.

"Donghyuck," His mom mumbles from her spot at the counter, head hanging low and fat tears falling onto the marble surface. "My God, my son…I just want you to have a secure future and you continue with 'The Dry Flower'. You won't have anything to eat one of these days!"

It hurts him to see his mom like this. For all he knows, he wishes he could go back to when he was seven and his mom would clap for him, cheering him on for a dream that she’s entirely against as of now. It’s complicated, wanting a hug so badly but also having to defend his dream. Surely, he won’t be the most well-known drummer to date, but he will mean something.

“Mom, I promise it won’t get that bad. You know how I am, I…”

“That’s the thing! Life is not about how you are, or how you think you are, it’s about what you do so you don’t go through hardships. It’s about being smart!” She rubs at her face with pent-up frustration and Donghyuck sighs deeply, placing his hands on the edge of the counter to stop himself from hugging her.

“I know, but I can’t be smart and unhappy.”

“Happiness is fluctuant, Donghyuck. You can’t be happy all the time and on the long run, this won’t make you happy.”

“How do I know if I don’t try? I’m sorry, okay?! So fucking sorry that I didn’t go to college like all of my younger siblings. I wish I could have been a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher, but I can’t. For the life of me, I can’t simply not try.” Donghyuck answers, hating the raspiness of his voice and the knot that grows on his throat. He looks to the side to stop the tears from falling, but they burn at his bottom lashes. “I’m sorry. I…I promise I will find a place soon and if I eat or don’t won’t be any of your business.”

“It will always be my business!” His mom replies. “Donghyuck, you have a way of making things sound like you’re going to die tomorrow. You can do the whole drumming thing on the side and go back to school.”

“I’m not book-smart.”

“To get a degree, you have to have the wits, and you’ve got them, honey.”

“...I don’t want to, mom, okay? I don’t.” He responds, opening the fridge and picking up the bag of pastries he had bought for his girlfriend. He stands by her side, watching how older she had gotten, a few wrinkles appearing on her face, wearing bigger clothes and tighter feelings. His plump lips spread on her temple, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say that he loves her, but he does. Instead, he gets on his bicycle, hoping for a miracle.

Hoping to be somebody so all of this could change.

Youth was supposed to be easier, wasn’t it?

Mr. Montero will have her head, fry it and then kick her out of law school. Yes, she’s claiming it, and yes, she’s also one step from doing the same with Eunbyul after she left her car-less (because, for some reason, Eunbyul can’t make a decision for the life of her but she can surely grab her car at five in the morning to go meet up with Yangyang). That was four hours ago, she’s running forty-five minutes late and Eunbyul isn’t picking up her phone.

Not that she’s angry that her friend is getting laid, but still.

The thing about small towns is that it’s a little difficult to get a ride. Taxis and their high prices leave more than just a few college students grabbing the bus, who is also extremely late, and she’s tired of waiting. She tried walking there, but the heels she opted to use for her presentation (against her will, but Mr. Montero and his oh-so-wise-mind says that law students should look their best always) dig into her soles and leave her begging to rub cream on the blisters appearing on the skin. Hence, she’s crying a little bit and almost cries a little louder when she sees a familiar face from afar.

Lee Donghyuck had never made her feel so relieved to look at somebody. In fact, she rushes after that bicycle, screaming his name until he comes to a halt. Drenched in a beige hoodie that is probably too thick for today’s weather, he lets his foot step on the concrete before he looks over his shoulder. He doesn’t look as relaxed and uninterested in the world around him as he usually does, instead widening his eyes when he sees the tears that bathe her face.

“Is everything alright?”

She could have asked, but she stands in the back of the bicycle, hoisting herself up in a way that she’s half-sitting on his seat and holding onto the hood of his shirt before deciding to wrap her arms around his waist. “I have a huge presentation that is worth twenty percent of my grade and I’m not exactly passing this class, so if you drive me there, Donghyuck, I swear I will never bother you again.”

He blows a small fraction of air that moves his disheveled bangs away from his face before he makes up his mind. “It’s what you always say and you always come up with something new.”

But he starts moving with will, and she has to accommodate her body so her chest is not squished to his back. It’s not like she wants Donghyuck to feel her body pressing up against him. “Eunbyul decided that stealing my car was a good idea.”

“Eunbyul?” Donghyuck questions, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen Eunbyul do anything even remotely bad.”

“You don’t know her. Put Yangyang in the fraction and she’ll do just about anything, Vanilla Ice.”

“And here I was thinking that since you called me Donghyuck before, we’d be skipping the nickname.”

The air blows at the strands of hair that she had worked so hard on brushing, but it seems like this day is not at her mercy. She stares at the rays of sunshine that fall on Donghyuck’s chiseled cheekbones; he looks rather great today, but just when she’s about to reach for one of the pastries hanging from the bicycle’s handle, he clicks his tongue.

“Not for you.”

“I haven’t had any breakfast?”

“So?” He replies with the same condescending tone before sighing. “I’m…It’s my first month anniversary with my girlfriend, Yejin. Those are for her.”

She furrowed her eyebrows at that. Donghyuck had never been open about his relationships and she was certain that he had never lasted more than a week with somebody. Much like her, he lived off situationships.

“You have a girlfriend?”

“I can manage to have somebody, you know?”

“I’m sure you do, you’re not bad looking.” She answers, pressing her cheek to the top of his head and then sighing. “I’m sorry for the proximity, I’m just trying to keep my hair intact. The wind is insane today.”

“‘I have a girlfriend’, I say, before you inherently make me look like a cheater to half the town.”

“Everybody in this town knows we’ve been friends since high school, Vanilla-”

“We’re friends?” He asks, a bit surprised, and it takes her a moment of thinking. To everyone in this town, Donghyuck was the man that took her virginity in a set of parties that they attended to, perhaps a bit closer than friends at some point (though grandly wrong at that assumption, that is), but someone whom she is really close with. It’s not precisely wrong.

“Yes. I know more about you than most people and I think we care about each other enough.”

“That’s being acquaintances.”

“You know what, Vanilla Ice? Fuck you. We’re not friends at all if you don’t want to. Saving my friendship bracelet, or rather, I can give it to you so you can pull it up your ass.”

Donghyuck chuckles loudly. It’s been a while since she has heard that noise and it reminds her of the times he spent binge-watching YouTube videos on the sofa while her trio of friends were trying to do work. He makes a laugh sound so sincere that she’s almost in awe. Donghyuck blurs his words to make himself look less attached, but he’s also inherently transparent.

“We can be friends.”

“I don’t want to anymore.” She huffs, only to have him shaking his head.

“You’re friends with Yangyang. I’m sorry for second-guessing you a bit.”

“Don’t you dare talk shit about Yang.”

“I’d kick his ass if I could, but I sadly don’t care about him enough to do so.” He stops his bicycle in his tracks, looking at two roads. “Left or right?”

Right. This moment feels right.

With the sun bathing the two of them and their eyes connecting briefly, she replies: “Left.” Because that’s what they will always be. Opposite roads.

WORDS THAT CAN’T BE SAID SHOULDN’T BE WRITTEN.

Be damned the day she couldn’t say a thing. When it became easier to spend her time studying at the local swimming pool that the landlord had coincidentally decided to add to their apartment complex; that was the time everything went to hell and back. Because that’s when she met the nephew of one of the old ladies at the complex, and he was handsome.

Capital H.

He’s also extremely unapproachable in every way. Thomas, the little kid that sometimes glues his bubblegum to the elevator doors in hopes of keeping them together for longer so he can talk to somebody (as he says, his parents don’t get home until very late and he spends most of his time alone), had given her some background on Nakamoto Yuta. Twitch streamer for story games, who posted a bunch two years ago but also has disappeared a bit now, just when his career was starting to launch.

It’s not a surprise that he’s always drinking a certain brand of an energy drink or that he almost always is recording what he is eating or drinking a bit. Typical influencer nature. However, she can’t say she was not a bit distracted as she was getting ready for her exams. This last month has been hell as she watches him push his black hair back, give one of those smiles that squares his jaw and make him look the ever-more-thrilling, with his t-shirts almost always painting the outline of a nice pair of abdominals.

Dead.

She almost failed a test because she’s been spending her time being stupid.

Okay, this idea came from Yangyang sarcastically…but she had followed through with it. She rambled a lot of stupid shit when given the chance, so she wanted to put those words to paper and get over him by just emptying her heart. Sometimes, she wrote something sweet, then it was something a bit risky…

And as she’s inspecting the letters of the page she had been trying to read the last hour as he listens to his typical rock records at a medium volume that can be tolerated by most, she doesn’t expect to hear cackles nearing her. Full-on laughter that has her looking up, feeling droplets of Yuta’s hair falling on her face as his eyes become crescent moons.

He never talks to her. Or at least, never a conversation that is of much use.

However, tonight he sits on the chair next to hers, waving a piece of paper in the air that has her widening her eyes.

She never signed the papers, she’s certain.

“I came to the realization that my secret admirer wrote in purple and you use a purple pen today.” Yuta announces. She knows his name because Thomas is a grand fan. God, she wishes she had given up on those letters now that she feels her heart racing because she had called him a bunch of names. From cute to hot, to absolutely breathtaking. “And it makes sense, considering you look up too much from your book.”

“I…What? No. No way.” She shakes her head. Fuck, what had she written today? She always left the letters under his gym bag, always brought to him when visiting his aunt.

“Lie to me, but this?” He spares a look at her notebook, pointing at her handwriting. “Coincides with this.”

“Hey! Privacy!” She closes the notebook snugly, pointing at him. “I know laws. Don’t make me use them against you.”

Yuta quirks an eyebrow, leaning back on his hands before laughing softly. “Use whatever you want against me, baby.” The pit of her stomach shouldn’t dance at those words, much less when she remembers what she had written on today’s note for Yuta.

I wish I was the honey you pour on those cinnamon rolls your aunt always gifts you; that way, I would always stick to you mouth.

Never listen to Yangyang’s advice ever again. That’s the newsflash she’s receiving as of now.

“I’m Yuta.”

“And I’m gracefully out.” She tries to stand up, clinging her notebook and textbook to her chest, but Yuta wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her back every so delicately before fluttering his short eyelashes.

“Come on, don’t do that. I’ve kept all the letters you’ve given me, and now that I can give the person a face…I wouldn’t mind a date.”

The good decision is to avoid relationships.

She knows this. That’s always the good answer. However, it has been a while since she has felt the warmth of someone’s skin against hers, and it has as well been extremely long since she has had someone kiss her goodbye. It could be nice, and it could also be an opportunity with Yuta.

Damn her for saying yes.

The worst part of being with someone new is that she goes to places where she doesn’t belong.

Two months after she started seeing Yuta is when things started to feel different. Eunbyul had been nice enough to invite her to a cabin she’d be sharing with Yangyang and a few other friends, where Ritz cookies with whipped cream were promised—she preferred them with pepperoni, so she’d bring some herself—, and she’d have a few talks while passing the brief weeks in which she’d be free from her semester. She’d feel like more than her textbooks, but she had washed away the idea of that trip for something with Yuta.

Granted, she knows that Yuta has some kind of fame. Not enough to have paparazzi after him, but like one or two people want to take pictures with him as he’s seated on a plaid picnic cloth, rolling up a joint and bringing it to his lips. His hair is longer than any of her ex’s, he is also incredibly touchy whenever he wants to, with a hand on her waist and leaving a flutter at the pit of her stomach. He wears a floral shirt tucked into ripped jeans and he’s…a daydream.

The kind that kisses her velvet lipstick off, and the man that spent most of his days talking to her online. They rarely see each other often because of clashing timelapses and busy schedules, but now that she sees him…she wants him to be the rare good decision that she makes. She knows that he’ll either be the person that settles with her—finally, God fucking finally—or her biggest heartbreak.

She has learned from Yuta, as his thumb caresses the sliver of skin that is unraveled from the waist of her black and yellow sunflower sundress, that he is the total opposite of her. She is preparing herself to defend divorce cases; to figure out who is right and who is wrong and raise her voice for those who need sheltering in that situation. However, Yuta sees his life for what flows and doesn’t—he just got his engineering degree a year ago and he's making real money off Twitch streaming.

He doesn’t see far ahead, and all she can see is the light at the end of the tunnel. If it isn’t there, she’d inherently panic.

And this music festival that he wanted so desperately to go to with a few of his friends—Johnny and Yoonoh, whom she hasn’t seen now that they have found their respective dates—is not the kind of scene that she frequents. Yuta smells like the joint Johnny had given him, and his eyes are dazed when he turns to press a fleeting kiss to her lips.

He flows and flows and flows. She’s scared that one of those times, he’ll fly away from her fingertips.

“What’s with that face?” Yuta asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek and her heart does summersaults, because she rushed two weeks into knowing him to give him a kiss and now, two months into this…thing, she can’t wait for Yuta to figure himself out. To make this grand event for him an even more enormous moment for her.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to an event like this.” The farthest she had gone was that summer in which Yangyang spent almost every weekend partying and bringing her along. At some point, she had become his chauffeur and Yangyang had thrown up so badly into his own backpack that he had completely forgotten to wash it off. He promised not to party anymore when on the first day back to school he had brought the throw-up-filled backpack with him. “…I…You know, I’m happy because I’m with you, but at the same time I want to be alone with you.”

He chuckles a bit, putting down the joint and turning it off with a step on top of it. “We are alone.”

“No, like…” She could say it. Without music booming and his friends around and his mind elsewhere. “Just forget it.”

He tugs at her hand, softly, lips puckered up when he asks: “Come on, just…tell me. I want to know everything that is on your head.”

Would he want to know the anxiety? The recurring insecurities? Would he want to know that he has taken over every piece of her dreams and she’s not sure that she can get rid of the image of him anytime soon? Cupid had thrown an arrow directly at her heart and the worst part is that if she rips it apart anytime, she’s scared that it will rip it out of her chest.

“I wanted something quieter, maybe.”

Though, the moment that Yuta brings her closer and tells her that it’ll only be a few more minutes, she feels liquid pouring down on her. Yoonoh is not too far away, with dimples on his cheeks carved so deeply that it looks like there is no tissue or muscle there in his chiseled cheekbones. His flannel shirt is opened as he spritzes the recently opened bottle of champagne on the couple.

She closes her eyes. Fuck drunken Yoonoh, she thinks, hearing Yuta’s sweet laughter and trying to mask the same smile. Maybe, she just needs to loosen up.

“Yoonoh!” She screeches, standing up and plucking the dress away from her chest so it doesn’t contort a little too closely to her skin.

“You two were flushed. Needed to ease up from this heat.” Yoonoh brings the bottle to his mouth and pours a good chunk before she sighs deeply.

Love is a slave to patience.

Maybe, that’s all she’s lacked, patience.

And even those she’s annoyed, she brings her face down to steal a kiss from Yuta, who quirks an eyebrow and tells her: “I’ll kick his ass, don’t worry. I know Yoonoh can get annoying when he’s had a few drinks on him.”

Please, do, she wants to tell him. Instead, she shakes her head. “I’ll go to the restroom at the restaurant we went to, okay?” There’s a seafood place near this festival, considering that it’s by the beach, and while the stars have taken up the sky and she doesn’t want to go on her own, she also doesn’t want to bother Yuta.

He takes her phone from the picnic cloth before placing it in the little purse she has dangling from her shoulder. “Send me a text when you get there.” And with a kiss on her forehead, she tries to convince herself that Yuta’s heart beats as quickly as hers does.

It has to, right?

Long has it been since Donghyuck has felt that crippling need in the pit of his throat to weep and cry. He’s older, so he has tried to garnish more of a timelapse before he reaches that point, but…when a friend betrays you this way, it hurts deeply.

Renjun’s hair is shorter than how it was when they first met. It’s a deep blue with glimpses of black, sticking up at different places while he hits the stack of papers that include their lyrics against his hand. Past his empty eyes, Donghyuck believes he sees glimmers of who they used to be. Renjun was the guy in theater club that skipped his classes to go play with him when the real school band was over. He was the man that came up with the name ‘The Dry Flower’. His eyes were once red from crying with Donghyuck because they had booked their first gig.

“I don’t want you in the band anymore, Hyuck.”

They were about to play their biggest gig to date. A beach festival in which they were one of the first people to open, but as he is in his best leather jacket, with his hair sleeked back, his drumsticks ready to play for him, Renjun says this. As if it doesn’t weight him down. As if Donghyuck hadn’t heard him minutes ago.

“What the fuck?” He asks with a sarcastic smile on his face, pushing forward until he is face to face with Renjun. “I think you’ve forgotten I was the one that got us here, Renjun.”

“We didn’t want a front-man.” Renjun announces, frowning deeply. “That’s the problem. You think this is a one-man show—”

“No, I don’t, but you don’t know how much I’ve given up for this band. Or you do, but you’ve decided to forget just now.” Niamh and Renjun are just a foot away from graduating, and Jooyeon had her own music store. Niamh is engaged to Aida, now seated on her lap, their eyes elsewhere but on him. They had totally planned this.

“That was up to you to decide—”

“You don’t even have a drummer for the gig!” Now he’s desperate. He should have walked away twenty minutes ago when this argument had started, to keep his pride intact, but he wanted this band. For the longest time, this band had been his family.

“We have found someone.” Renjun aspires, whispering at first, and when Donghyuck asks him to repeat himself, he does with a straight face. His hands are shaking and meanwhile, Renjun is calm. Composed. As always.

He hates that Renjun has it all together and he doesn’t.

So, he thrashes all the memories he has held with one of his best friends. The nights they spent talking about how they aspired to be like The Strokes or Queen. The birthdays in which Renjun sent him voice messages saying he hates him to death but that they’ll celebrate that night. The hugs they shared when getting gigs, or the moments in which creating music felt cohesive. Because he was the Paul to his John, and now—

Now, Donghyuck is launching himself at Renjun, using his forearm to back him up into the wall backstage, speaking into his face as tears threaten to spill from the corner of his eyes.

“Fuck you!”

His vision blurs, forgetting that the face his punch lands into is none other than Renjun’s. He feels his own body being pushed backwards, Renjun’s slim body falling on top of his, and he swears he hears Jooyeon screaming for the two of them to get over this. Her short hair moves with each tug she gives to get Renjun off of him as he lands another punch, but it’s to no avail.

Friendship wasn’t supposed to end like this, with security separating them and Donghyuck staring at a group of people that stabbed him behind his back. Jooyeon and her widened eyes, that inspected him as if he had gone insane. Niamh, always the most sensitive, crying her eyes out and covering her face. Renjun’s cheekbone flourishes in a deep pink and he wonders if his tan skin mirrors the same wound.

The only thing that keeps them connected as of now.

Security drags him away, only letting go of him when they were in front of the restaurant a few feet away. Donghyuck spits in the floor, finally letting his hands cage his face and his shoulders shake with each weep that leaves his body.

He doesn’t have a band anymore.

Shit, does he have a dream anymore?

The world is weightier and it crumbles to the point he wants to hide himself. Rushing, he enters the restaurant, ignoring the waitress that tries to get him a table as he goes to the bathroom.

His best night just turned out to be his worst.

Someone enters the bathroom just as she’s washing her hands. In fact, she doesn’t react at first. Indeed, she prepares herself for a drunken talk with a girl who probably wears one of those pleated skirts that are trending right now, but when the door is shut with a bang and she hears incessant sniffling along with a smack against one of the stools, she knows whoever has entered means business.

And there could have been a hundred people that entered through that door, but she never expected it to be Donghyuck. Her heart hammers against her chest when she sees his black hair pooling on each side of his face, longer than the last time she saw him, clinging into the last bits of gel on his head. He is wearing a leather jacket, but the anatomy of him astounds her. His shoulders are shaking, back hunched, stomach contracting before he lets out a loud sob. As if whatever is bothering him rakes through his chest and leaves him void, open for the world to pluck at his heartstrings.

“Donghyuck…” Her voice must have alarmed him, considering he stops pressing his forehead to the stool’s door and he actually turns around. His eyes are so red that they could mimic that of an eclipse. Tears fall down like glitter on chiseled cheekbones and she takes that as a cue to grab his face in between her hands and pull him closer. Before asking him anything, she’s shushing him, because this is Eunbyul’s little cousin, the man that she had seen grow and had bothered for so long. “Shh, everything is going to be alright…”

His hands cling to her back, as if her dress was a second skin, as he hides his face on her neck. She feels the plumpness of his lips right at her pulse when he shakes his head and mutters: “It won’t. My life is over…”

The contraction of the muscle by her heart is enough to have her pulling away, feeling her own tears wield up in her vision out of panic. “Don’t say that, Donghyuck. Not even playing around. Your life is not over.” Rubbing at his eyes, she speaks softly, only for the two of them to hear. Meanwhile, his hands still rest on her waist, looking into her eyes. “Whatever happened, we can get through it together. I won’t leave your side the entire night if that means you…you figuring out that this is just another bad chapter of the book, but not the finale. It is not the end.”

Donghyuck’s lip quivers before he rubs at his eyes, looking up to try and stop the tears. He tries to pull away, but she keeps her hold on his cheeks. “Renjun fucking kicked me out of the band.” He seethes, shaking his head before sighing deeply. “After all I’ve given for them. After all I’ve done. They all continued with their lives because they didn’t care about the band as much, but I followed through with it because I believed that it would sail. Now that we’re halfway there, I’m no longer in the band and—”

“Why would Renjun do that?”

“Apparently, they are tired of me being the front-man and making decisions all the time.” Donghyuck whispers, pressing a hand to his eyes as if not to see her. “And it’s so embarrassing that I’m crying like this but…that band is my whole life. I can’t let my family see that it didn’t work out for me. All these years I’ve fought to let everyone know that I was going to make it. I thought I’d be the greatest drummer but—”

“Now you’re the greatest drummer but out of a band.” She completes for him, unraveling his vision before looking from one of his eyes to the other. He had grown so much, had become so responsible and yet so mortified. Where had his sarcastic smile gone? “You don’t believe me?”

Donghyuck shakes his head, not uttering a single word.

Silence had never fit Donghyuck.

But when his silence overtakes him and rids him of the will of continuing, she is there for him. She presses a fleeting kiss to his forehead, letting her lips linger there, wishing for the Donghyuck that she knew to awaken from inside his brain. Instead, she tries to get him out.

“You’re important.” She tells him. “You’re fun to be around. You’re resilient. You’re worth waiting for.” All that she thinks of Donghyuck is spat out in simple words, pulling away to look at him only to see that he closes his eyes tightly, long eyelashes bathed in tears. “You’re smart and willing. You’re…so many things, Donghyuck, but the greatest of it all is that you’re part of so many people’s lives and I reassure you…none of them want to lose you.”

Donghyuck opens his eyes, brown eyes glistening and he pretends to smile from the corner of his mouth, but she grins back at him.

“There you go, that’s the smile everyone likes.”

“Everyone?”

“I’m a peculiar fan of your happiness. It’s the only reason why I tease you with the whole Vanilla Ice thing.” She confesses, licking her bottom lip before biting on it. “You always roll your eyes but the corner of your mouth lifts up. As if you find it amusing that to this day I haven’t forgotten.”

“I doubt I give Yangyang the same response.”

“I happen to believe I am a little bit more special than Yangyang. You’ve always preferred me.” She answers, taking his hand and dragging him to the sink. “Now, let’s wash up those tears and grab something to eat, okay? You’ve lost weight and all that stress you’ve got bundled up isn’t doing you any good.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, tossing his head back. “I’m fine.”

“I know.” She replies. “But good is never good enough.”

And then, he finally laughs when he feels her splashing water onto his face.

CUPID’S ARROW IS A JOKE THAT NEVER LANDS. SEVEN WEEKS LATER.

Returning to her last semester before she turns a lawyer should feel somehow fulfilling. Her mind could have been focused on the textbook that glares back at her from the PDF blinking on her laptop, eager for a topic to be understood, but her digits gravitate towards her phone, unlocking it and checking Yuta’s chat to see if he had answered the text that she hand sent him three hours ago, that he had definitely seen.

Or the one four hours before that.

Or the ‘good morning, babe’ text that he didn’t respond.

In fact, love shouldn’t feel like this. Like an electricity shock that flickers like a broken light. She still turns it on even though it’s only dimly lighting the room up. She sighs deeply, pressing her forehead to the keyboard when searching for key words on their conversation. Nicknames that he had called her. Promises that he had made. Pictures of the two of them that they had exchanged in a conversation that now seems dead.

If they exchange four sentences in a day, it’s a lot.

It’s an emptying feeling. Gravitating her into a pit of feelings that she can’t comprehend. Throwing the phone into her phone as it lands on a pillow, she groans loudly, covering her eyes and digging the heels of her palms into them. Alright, it was her fault for falling for Yuta, or that she knows this is inherently wrong and yet, she still stays here.

It has crossed her mind to leave Yuta, but it’s impossible. Somehow, it feels like she’s the one at blame. She feels like the problem in each of her relationships. The one that fucks it up by putting interest, by not being like other women who make themselves be desired and lusted at even after months of being together. She stands up when she hears her phone buzz from the bedsheets, launching herself into the bed in the most ridiculous of ways and when she unlocks it, she lets a few tears drop.

Yuta hasn’t responded to her text yet. And she can’t even delete them anymore.

Instead, someone else had texted her. It was not Eunbyul, who was the complete opposite of her and is probably sharing dinner with Yangyang at this point, since long having moved in with him again. However, seeing Donghyuck’s name appear on the screen—next to an ice cube emoji, of course—is not as bad.

From: Donghyuck 🧊

Is it bad that I eat the leftover buttercream from Eunbyul’s store? [Attached File]

The picture attached brings a smile to her features. Donghyuck has his eyebrows well raised, a spatula pressed in between his lips and a dot of buttercream on the tip of his nose. She turns around on the bed, letting her hair cascade on her sides before sighing.

To: Donghyuck 🧊

Wish I could do that. I should be studying, but I can’t fucking concentrate.

She puts her phone down. Feminism is put to shame because of her. Why is she standing a man’s doing? Just because she feels like she…she…might be slightly in love with him? That’s stupid, even for her. And scrolling through Instagram doesn’t help as she continues to see Reels about situation-ships.

Stop it, word.

From: Donghyuck 🧊

Must be because you’re thinking of your stoner boyfriend. You know that you’re a lawyer?

To: Donghyuck 🧊

Future lawyer. Your point?

From: Donghyuck 🧊

Weed’s illegal. You’d have to put him to jail.

To: Donghyuck 🧊

I’m not like this ‘cause of Yuta.

From: Donghyuck 🧊

[Attached music file].

The room is filled with that popular song that Yangyang has been humming under his breath the last week. Boy’s a Liar or something of the like. A smile appears on her features, even when he’s not precisely wrong. What could Yuta be doing all these days, spending time at home, when there is nothing he enjoys more than going out?

To: Donghyuck 🧊

Men are snakes. Purr.

From: Donghyuck 🧊

Slay girlie.

More laughter leaves her lips before Donghyuck writes once again.

From: Donghyuck 🧊

But for real, I’m going to the karaoke bar with a few friends and I’m sure you’re not going to do any more studying. Come with me? We’ll sing your song.

To: Donghyuck 🧊

My song?

From: Donghyuck 🧊

Just come. Please? I want you there.

It’s not a surprise when she accepts, putting on the biggest sweater she has in her closet—half because of the weather and the other half because she doesn’t feel like showing off with how bad she feels—, a pair of leggings and then she’s out the door. Prompting what happened these past few weeks for her to be vengeful, wishing for Yuta to react to her going out with someone else without telling him. Perhaps, she’s just clinging onto what they used to be—or what she thought they could have been—. The brisk bites at her hands as she waits for a taxi to pick her up.

Dating is the hardest thing she has done, but she tries to erase that thought out of her head as she imagines the good things to come. She’ll go to Eunbyul’s store, close with Donghyuck—since he found a job there after being kicked out of The Dry Flower—and just have a good time.

Donghyuck’s boozed. He’s the conceptualization of it.

Ask him what’s the meaning of the word conceptualization? He has no fucking clue, but as he stands on the only table there, with his boots disregarded and showing his stupid striped socks, he couldn’t care less.

She’s seated right across from him, with the same glass of water that she had ordered early on her hand, watching him with widened eyes and a bit of a smile on her face. He’ll be honest, he had never looked at her with intent or from up-close, but the last few weeks ever since their exchange in the bathroom, and the time that they had spent away, months maybe, he sees her with a different gaze.

Her hair is shorter than how it was when they were younger, eyelashes less coated in mascara and way less curled than they were before. She exchanged cheap red lipstick for a nude, darker shade that match the real tone of them. The sweater she wears probably leaves her skin damp, but the little glint of sweat around her nose makes her look adorable. Donghyuck wishes she just wasn’t so bad at picking men.

Because there he is, choosing a song as one of his friends—to be honest, he had just tagged along with Mark’s group because they were good fun, but he doesn’t consider them that close to him—asks him to. He turns around, making his dramatic entrance and singing while looking at her. When she realizes which song it is, she cackles immediately, tossing her head back and yet, not stopping looking at him.

Yes, he wishes that the only way he got her to look at him wasn’t by singing Vanilla Ice’s ‘Ice, Ice, Baby’ but he knows that’s the only way he can get her to remember who he is.

He moves his hair around, parting his legs and reciting the songs like the palm of his hand. He gets off the table, extending his hand and taking hers in his even when she covers her face. Donghyuck feels a blush rise up his cheeks, could be the beers he has had or the fact that he is looking at the screen to remember the next verse because of his mind is a blur, his tongue is intertwining in words that he can’t let out at this moment.

When the song is over, the moment isn’t. Donghyuck splays himself next to her side, their knees touching and his eyes immediately going to her profile. He expects her to see her looking away, but her eyes are already on him, looking from one orb to the other and he might go insane—

God, since when was she this hot? This beautiful?

He remembers being annoyed at her, much more at Yangyang, but she was friends with Eunbyul for a reason. Then, he pretended to be her first time at a party because she was still into that asshole Felix. Now, she’s dating another asshole and he wishes nothing more than for her to open her eyes.

“You’re blushing?” She questions, splaying a hand on his cheek before pinching it softly. She’s in awe, but she can be even more surprised when he lets his fingers spread on top of her own, closing up her palm to his cheek so she cups it with more intent.

“Maybe.” Donghyuck slurs out, chuckling a bit before pushing his face forward the slightest. They are only breaths away, her mint mixing with his beer. “How does one get you to blush?”

She chuckles at that, shaking her head. “It’s been long since that’s happened.”

He can’t imagine not bathing her in reasons as to why look at the world in a romantic glare, and maybe he’s insane for it. Donghyuck pulls her hand down, trying to stop the beating of his heart and the stupidity that threatens to slip from his lips and ruin what possibly is some kind of…friendship? “I can make it happen, truthfully.”

“I don’t think Vanilla Ice has it in him.”

“Vanilla Ice doesn’t. I do.” Donghyuck replies, and maybe it’s the invitation in her eyes when she lets go of his hand and stands up, looking over her shoulder before walking away from the karaoke room that has him following after her.

Donghyuck doesn’t have a second to think when he catches her by the forearm before she walks away. Her chest collides against his own, taller than he was when they were younger, and definitely in a position that they never had been in before. His black t-shirt becomes his axis as she looks into his eyes, cutting the distance between the two and capturing his bottom lip in the softness of her own mouth. She kisses with gentleness, a bit of trembling to her body that he stops by pulling her closer, molding her hips with his own, back contorted to the dip of his stomach.

Donghyuck wishes it didn’t feel fitting for him; everything that she does, he means. From running her fingers through his hair, to the way her body shakes, heart racing against his ribcage. He pulls away to look at her closed eyelids before dipping in again. Her hand disappears under his shirt, touching the skin that he knows he’s insecure about, the places in which he hid his overthinking…

She touches him like this means forever, and he doesn’t even know what that means.

He pushes her to the wall, her back landing softly as his leg gets lost in between her own thighs. A small trembling breath leaves her mouth, opening her eyes and looking at him as his thumb traces her bottom lip.

She’s not his, and she proves it when closing her eyes tightly and saying: “God, what am I doing?”

He’ll be an interrogative, even an insecurity for her. A secret that she’ll broom under her memories to never get out. She had touched him as if she meant all those words she said at the bathroom. That he was kind and irreplaceable, and here he is, being a band-aid to a wounded heart.

“Excuse me?” Donghyuck asks, pulling away the slightest and laughing sarcastically at her words, though it doesn’t last long.

“Donghyuck, I—”

“You say it as if I’m fucking disgusting to kiss.” He compliments and she doesn’t say a word, looking over to the side and biting that lip that he wants nothing more than to kiss. “Look at me.”

“No. I…I can’t. I’m seeing someone, Donghyuck.”

“Someone like everyone else you’ve had. You don’t know how to see someone who truly respects you.”

Now she looks at him, glaring directly through his heart. “Donghyuck, you don’t know how this shit is.”

“Yes, I know how you are. You stay and feel guilty for acting with your heart once just because you believe tying someone who doesn’t want you to you is going to make them stay.”

“Don’t say stuff like that!”

“When have they ever stayed, huh?” He asks, only to have her pushing at his chest, pointing a finger at him.

“Well, I’m not sure you’d stay either! It always starts like this, with promises of being different and I always end up hurt!”

She shakes her head, giving a few steps backwards away and towards the entrance. He calls her name softly, clicking his tongue at not knowing precisely what to say.

He could start with what he feels. Hey, I’m not sure when these feelings blossomed, but I am not willing to kiss anyone else but you. Not willing to be of anyone, but yours.

“Thank you for reminding me.” She adds. “No one fucking wants me as more than a moment—”

“I could say the same about you.” Donghyuck replies, crossing his arms over his chest, hating how prideful he can be. “You called me so many beautiful things, even fucking kissed me back, and yet…I’m not enough to make you change your mind.”

He hates to see the tears that she tries to make disappear by blinking, or that she doesn’t have any words to say. Not even an excuse as she picks up her bag and turns around.

She leaves.

Don’t they always?

BLAME IS ALWAYS SHARED. THREE DAYS LATER.

The peak of her idiocy comes when she looks at her phone while in class.

She’s seated at the very back, jotting down notes on her laptop about what her classmate is explaining, but she gets distracted. In fact, all she has been able to think is the way Donghyuck’s lips spread on hers, how his body molded perfectly to hers and how bad it feels to cling to Yuta in hopes of making her feel the same. The same way even when he doesn’t text her as much anymore, or how he has been avoiding seeing her for the past few weeks.

But looking at her phone gets her to look at his social media, because that’s the hobby that she has partaken on to feel a little closer to him. His Twitch, most of the time unused, blinks with the appearance of a new stream. He’s playing one of his favorite videogames, as relaxed as ever, as if they weren’t going through a point in their…who is she kidding? This is also not a relationship, just like everyone else she has had. And there she is, withstanding shit from a man who doesn’t even want to call her a boyfriend.

Who, coincidentally, also hasn’t responded to her ‘good morning’ text again. Great.

She looks at that conversation, then clicks back into Yuta’s Twitch stream, careful not to have the volume up. His now red hair is tied behind his back, one of his legs propped over the desk as he has one earphone on and the other tossed on top of his knee. His eyes cast down on the screen, though she sees his phone from her peripheral, on a corner of his lit-up neon desk.

So, she writes the text, even with a pattering heart and fear of making a mistake. Yuta is not the only man in the world, and this anxiousness that follows after her has been enough to make her crazy. Even break her sly friendship with Donghyuck.

To: Yuta Nakamoto.

You know what? I’m not here to stay with a man who would much rather stream on his forgotten channel than answer my text. I hope you have a good one, Yuta. It’s over.

She would want to say that she was the better person and that she didn’t stay in the stream until she saw his phone screen light up and him stopping his game to look at the conversation. His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, frowning his eyebrows before tossing a look at the camera and putting the screen face-down.

That’s an answer, right? He couldn’t give less of a shit and it could be easier to curse him out, call his phone and make a fool of him in the middle of the stream, but she puts her phone down as well. It feels liberating not to live through a screen, and she’s damn happy to do so.

One less worry, and more time for herself, finally listening to her class once again and writing in her computer. Heart weightier, but liberated from its confining chains. It’s easier to love oneself, she tells herself, or perhaps her career who will give her much more than a man.

Now, the problem is that her life is more than the complicated mess that Yuta made it out to be. In fact, she had messed it up a bit, too. Donghyuck roams her head when she gets out of her class, with zero messages from Yuta, but also nothing from him.

It feels worse not to have the possibility to text Donghyuck, because she knows the things they said and how hurtful they were. She knows she touched portions of his heart that he never let anyone see, much more after his break-up with that girl he had dated all those months ago.

Though, for the time being, she’ll concentrate on her exams and nothing more. That should do it. No men allowed in her head.

HOW DID THAT SONG GO AGAIN? WE DON’T TALK ANYMORE? A MONTH AFTER.

Eunbyul just had to make things difficult and offer free sweets for her best friends, didn’t she?

Donghyuck rubs at the same spot on the counter that he had been working on all those minutes ago after she had gotten here. Like every Thursday, when she wants to spend some time gossiping with her best friend and braid Eunbyul’s hair as she speaks her elbows off. He rarely looks at them, considering that Eunbyul is the one to serve her the all-time-favorite, Caramel Cupcakes, but Eunbyul is down with the flu and her best friend is still coming, nonetheless.

Today, she is wearing a suit. She has worn more of those nowadays, considering that she’s working on her thesis and also interning. Information that Donghyuck got to know about thanks to his cousin, and he pretended he didn’t care, but he would not lie to himself and say he is not a little bit proud. Even though he can’t bear to remember that night in which everything came crumbling down.

At the end of the day, according to Eunbyul, Yuta and her were over just a few days after that night at the karaoke bar. Not that she knows about the shared kiss, but she had spoken from the bottom of her heart saying how sorry she was that something like that happened. Donghyuck wasn’t surprised, but still.

Worst part is that she came to the bakery just as they were about to close, and she’s looking at the menu as if she isn’t going to pick the same thing as she always does. She doesn’t call him over, instead standing up and letting her heels ring in the silent golden bakery. The leftover pastries glisten behind the glass, waiting to be microwaved and enjoyed before the shop closes, but the only client is her.

And Donghyuck’s breath traps in his throat when she looks into his eyes. As always, concentrating on one eye and then the other. As if she can’t take all of him in just in one go.

“I want a croissant.”

Donghyuck shakes his head, stopping his motions on the counter and fixing the beige apron around his waist. “You never have a croissant. I saved you a Caramel Cupcake.”

Alright, that’s stupid. He can’t believe he said it out loud. Silence prolongs between the two, eyes staring at one another before she clicks her tongue.

“Why would you?”

“You always ask for the same thing.” He responds quickly.

“You hate me, Donghyuck.”

“I never said I did.”

“But you do.”

“I’d like to say I do, yes.” He tries to play it off coolly, only to have her laughing a bit. She leans forward, playing with the collar of her gray jacket.

“I don’t hate you.” She tells him, licking those nude lips that he has to stop looking at because she’s totally not interested in him. “And I’ll take the caramel cupcake, sure, but the croissant, too.”

He turns around, ignoring her as he starts the microwave with the croissant inside. He packs the cupcake up in those pretty see-through boxes with yellow ribbons that Eunbyul had ordered for her shop.

“Why don’t you hate me? I said a bunch of nasty shit to you.”

“It’s easy to say I hate you. Harder to do so, I think.” She answers, and he doesn’t see her, but he imagines her lips parting and sighing softly. “Because the things you were telling me weren’t wrong, Vanilla Ice.”

He seethes through his teeth, turning around and spreading his hands behind him, crossing one leg over the other. “You have never seen me as anyone else than Eunbyul’s little cousin who had a video of him rapping, haven’t you?”

“I hadn’t.” She says and he swears he sees her patting the tips of her ears, as if checking if she’s blushing. “…Until someone decided to kiss me and make things complicated.”

“You kissed back.”

“I did.”

“Then?”

“We made it complicated. There, better?”

“Worse.”

“Agreed.”

The microwave beeps in time for him to cut the conversation, turning around and packing in another bag with the bakery’s name imprinted on it the croissant. When everything is done, Donghyuck serves it in front of her, their fingertips barely touching when placing it upon her hands. She won’t eat there, that he is sure of.

She parts her lips, as if to say something important, before she looks down at the sweets on her hands. Instead, she spreads her ribcage in a long breath before saying what disappoints him entirely, yet the most fitting thing to say in this situation.

“See you, Donghyuck.”

With that, she leaves. As if nothing happened. At this point, he may start to believe that nothing will ever happen.

Yangyang just had to propose to Eunbyul on Halloween, didn’t he?

The thing is…all would have been alright if he hadn’t decided to involve everyone in his Halloween proposal. It was going to happen at their house, of course, but he wanted it to be in the middle of a Halloween party, with everyone dressed up as the cheapest costume they could find. Yes, that’s precisely Yangyang asked for—because he didn’t want to scare Eunbyul off, he said, but he also wanted it to be in an important date and Christmas was a little too far away—.

Now, the problem was that she wanted to be Wednesday and the costume that she bought online had come two sizes smaller. Instead, she’s left with a dress that doesn’t close behind her and a black coat on top of it to cover up the fact that she can’t breathe completely without feeling the fabric tear a bit. It’s either that or wearing Yangyang’s sexy Spiderman costume, and she doesn’t think it’s a great idea…

The celebration downstairs booms with laughter and the brief sound of music, with the closest family and friends hanging out, but she wants to see her two best friends get engaged.

Okay, she’s getting the dress off.

Though, her own hands and a bit of fidgeting is not enough to get the second skin off. Yes, because this black dress counts as a second skin now. A bit more moving and a few jumps in front of the mirror are interrupted by the door opening, a screech leaving her lips when she sees a man in all black clothing with a pumpkin on his head, with eyes and a mouth carved, but still.

“What the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The voice is completely familiar. Donghyuck fumbles with the doorknob, eager to get out of the room before she calls out his name. That makes him stop, though he turns around slowly, comical considering he hasn’t taken off that damned pumpkin head.

“I can’t get this dress off and it’s literally killing me. I can’t breathe—” She speaks a little too quickly, huffing when extending her arms behind her back to ease herself from the tightening fabric.

“Alright, I’ll help you. Stop moving.” Donghyuck gets the pumpkin off from his head, tussling his hair up with a hand—light brown strands as of now, long and gorgeous in their messy stance—. He nears her, turning her around and from the view she gets on the mirror of the two of them, his gaze lingers on her back the slightest before he bites his bottom lip. “Would it be okay if we tugged down? I think it has more of a chance of going down your hips than up.”

“O—Okay.” She answers, letting his strong hands settle on the fabric around her waist and tug down, bringing her arms down. “Ouch!”

“It’s moving. Just…stay still. I’m sorry for doing this.” His legs spread when kneeling behind her and she goes where her mind is going, but Donghyuck’s hands keep working on tugging the dress down, the sleeves now off, skin tainted and burning, while her arms spread on front of her chest to cover her bra.

“I hate that I’m in this situation.”

“I’m not looking, I promise.”

“That’s the bad part, I guess.” She jokes around, though Donghyuck doesn’t laugh, looking at her through the mirror before looking up.

“I was about to say something but you’re like half naked—”

“Just say it and get it over with.”

“Don’t play around, that’s all.”

He gives a few more tugs until the dress pools at her feet, her hands clinging onto the coat and spreading it on top of her body like a robe before turning around. “Thank you.” Donghyuck nods curtly, about to put on his pumpkin mask again before she says: “Is it that hard to believe that I find you attractive, Donghyuck?”

He stares at her, blinking slowly, before he raises his eyebrows. Then, his hand finds leverage on his nape. “I mean…you’ve never been into me—”

“In the past, I hadn’t.” She tells him, getting closer and tightening her hold on her coat. “But me going every week to Eunbyul’s bakery has to mean something, right? I miss us, Donghyuck. What we were in those weeks. What we could have been in that night we kissed but…” She trails off. “I don’t want someone who won’t take me seriously and if you do the same as everyone else, I’m afraid I won’t be able to try again.”

She can’t believe that the arrow that Cupid apparently throws had landed on Donghyuck, how he gives a step forward too and looks from her lips to her eyes, down again. “I would never hurt you. Not again.” For some reason, from him, she believes it. He could be his own self, perhaps fights would ensue, but she knows he is the most truthful person she can find.

“I would ask you to promise, but I don’t want to hear any more promises.”

“That’s not wrong,” He spreads his hand on her cheek. “Because if we are going to try this out, I plan to show it to you.”

Her lips connect to his own, relishing on the feeling of his hand dropping from her cheek to her neck back to her nape. Her heart doesn’t hammer, it feels tranquil, with anxiety going out the window as Donghyuck smiles against her lips.

For the first time, she might be called a girlfriend.

And for the first time, she realizes that sometimes love hides in the people she knows, not the people she doesn’t.

#haechan scenarios #haechan x reader #nct scenarios #nct x reader #yuta scenarios #yuta x reader #writing #nct au #nct fluff #nct angst #slice of life!au #haechan au #haechan fluff #haechan angst #long long fic ahead

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